UC-NRLF 
 
 lfc.7 
 
GIFT OF 
 A. F. Morrison 
 
IN MY LADY'S PRAISE. 
 
IN MY LADY'S PRAISE 
 
 BEING 
 
 poems, l> anb IRew 
 
 WRITTEN TO THE HONOUR OF 
 
 FANNY, LADY ARNOLD 
 
 AND NOW COLJ.EC^ED FOR H^R MEMORY 
 
 BY- 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I, 
 t( 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE LIGHT OF ASIA, ETC. ETC. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL 
 1890 
 
 [All rights reserved] 
 
GIFT OF 
 
 TSaflantgne 
 
 AND oo. 
 
 ' 
 
753 
 
 in 
 IS10 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 " GOOD-NIGHT ! NOT GOOD-BYE ! " $ 
 
 INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 A CASKET OP GEMS 
 
 F. FIRE-OPALS 15 
 
 A. AMETHYSTS 19 
 
 N. NEPHRITE, JADE 2$ 
 
 N. NACRE AND PEARLS 26 
 
 Y. YACUT, TOPAZES . . . . . . 3! 
 
 M. MOONSTONE 36 
 
 A. AQUAMARINE 42 
 
 B. RUBIES 45 
 
 I. IDOCRASE, GAHNETS 54 
 
 A. AGATES 58 
 
 A. AMBER AND LAZULITE 6 1 
 
 D. DIAMONDS 71 
 
 E. EMERALDS 75 
 
 L. LIGDRE, JACYNTHS 82 
 
 A. AN AUREUS . . . . * . . . .92 
 
 I. IOLITE AND IVORY 99 
 
 D. DAWN-STONE Ic8 
 
 E. ECCLASE AND ESSONITE 117 
 
 M92339 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 OCTOBER 123 
 
 DEDICATION OF A VOLUME OF TRANSLATIONS . . .124 
 
 To "STELLA" 125 
 
 A DUET 126 
 
 ON A CYCLAMEN . . 127 
 
 IN HAPPY DAYS 128 
 
 To A SLEEPING LADY 129 
 
 'STUDENTS' DAY" IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY . . .131 
 
 MEMORIES 137 
 
 IN ABSENCE 138 
 
 IN THE DEATH-CHAMBER ....... 143 
 
 Sic SINE VITA 144 
 
"<3oot> Wfflbt! not 
 
 (Her last words, March 15, 1889.) 
 
 / saw my Lady die ; 
 
 And He, who ofttimes cruel t's, dark Death, 
 Was so deep-sorrowful to stay her breath, 
 
 He came, all clemency : 
 
 He would not let her know ; 
 So well he loved the bright soul he must take 
 That, for our grieving, and her own fair sake, 
 
 He hid his shaft and bow : 
 
 Upon her lips he laid 
 
 That "kiss of God" which kills, but does not harm; 
 With tender message, breathing no alarm, 
 
 He said " Be unafraid ! " 
 
 Sorrow grew almost glad, 
 Pain half-forgiven, parting well-nigh kind, 
 To mark how placidly my Lady's mind 
 
 Consented. Ready-clad 
 
IN MY LADY'S PRAISE. 
 
 In robes of unseen light 
 
 Her willing soul spread wing ; and, while she passed, 
 " Darling ! good-bye ! " we moaned but She, at lasf, 
 
 Murmured " No ! but Good-Night I " . 
 
 Good-night ! then ! Sweetheart ! Wife 
 If this world be the dark time, and its morrow 
 Day -dawn of Paradise ', dispelling sorrow. 
 
 Lighting our starless Life. 
 
 Good-night ! and not Good-bye ! 
 Good-night ! and best " Good-morrow ! " if we wake ; 
 Yet, why so quickly tired? Well, we must make 
 
 Haste to be done, and die I 
 
 For dying has grown dear 
 
 Now you are dead, who turned all things to grace; 
 We see Death made pale slumber on your face ; 
 
 Good-night! But is Dawn near? 
 
 Flowers rich of scent and hue 
 We laid upon your sleeping-place. And these, 
 Flowers of fond verse, which once had gift to please 
 
 Being your own take, too ! 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 'TWAS I who sang how Sultan Shah Jahan 
 Built the white House of Death for Arjamand 
 On Jumna's shore ; how,* " all for lordly love. 
 The marbles were Mukrani Jey pore's best 
 Brought seventy koss in creaking cattle- wains ; 
 The sandstone Futtehpur's ; how the gems came 
 Over a hundred wastes, a thousand hills, 
 By camel-caravan, ten thousand bales, 
 From Balkh, Iran, and far-off Khorasan : 
 What crores the Emperor lavished on his Taj ; 
 What lakhs of workmen toiled for what long years 
 Accomplishing the Death-Place of his Queen : 
 All for her love ! Dying at Burhanpur, 
 She spake to him : ' Oh, Sultan of the Age ! 
 Life of my soul ! who lov'dst me so, and knowest 
 How well I loved ! now pass I, leaving thee 
 Last child and latest kiss. Let all the world 
 Know thy large love and mine, and build for me 
 For Mumtaz dead, thy Persian wife, a Tomb 
 
 * From "With Sddi, in the Garden." 
 
io IN MY LADY'S PRAISE. 
 
 Which earth shall marvel at, and all men land, 
 Extolling thee and not forgetting me.' 
 
 . wed : { Yea ! but, by God the Truth ! 
 
 , ; < ' Th^ thing shall be ; the world shall know of thee ; 
 <' tfliou tfhtoJt'.'lwTfl snch a tomb ! ' Whereon she died, 
 
 And Shah Jahan builded the Taj Mahal." 
 
 So did I sing the Sultan's lordliness. 
 
 But you my Arjamand, my bright One, lost ! 
 My New- World Wife ! my Lady of the West, 
 Who, from so far-off, came to be so near 
 No snow-white marble blocks have I to pile, 
 No throng of wise artificers to toil, 
 No kingdom's treasures at thy grave to pour 
 As gold were safflower, as if silver were 
 Jungle-blooms stripped, and jewels fountain-drops. 
 Only these jewels* have I, which were cut 
 White from the mind, and blood-red from the heart ; 
 Only my verses have I, which I built 
 Line by line, for thee living, and now roof 
 With sorrowful last words, and coping-stones 
 Of fond farewell. Yeb sleep not thou o'er-humbled ! 
 It may be these shall last when those are crumbled. 
 
 * "The Casket of Gems." 
 
THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 [PARTLY WRITTEN IN 1870.] 
 
" But your name men shall know, 
 Reading these jewelled letters which compose 
 Its gentle music ; for my verse will go 
 
 Glad with the light of Love and you to days 
 When better poets live, and Life, made strong 
 
 By sheaves of our sad sowing-time, shall praise 
 Ladies we sang, and graces of our song." 
 
 Vid. page 118. 
 
THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 DEIGN, Sweetheart! deign to take what true 
 
 love sends, 
 
 Its daily gift set fair in gentle song ; 
 Where if verse fail heart's faith would make 
 
 amends, 
 So earnest, speech, at best, must do it wrong. 
 
 All lonely as I sit, a fancy raised 
 
 Lightens the heavy hour's dull incompleteness : 
 " Why is she sweet and good save to be praised, 
 
 Or I a singer save to praise her sweetness ? " 
 
 Some whisper from the Silence ! Who can say ? 
 
 Poets, before, have found new music so ! 
 At least, hereby, what I thought, day by day, 
 
 Your eyes will read, and tender breast will know. 
 
14 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And all spheres, Dear ! are servants unto Love ; 
 
 And all things in the world obey a Poet ; 
 And once they say the letter Yod did move, 
 
 And cried aloud to Heav'n Mishna doth show it ! 
 
 Therefore I bid these Letters each of them 
 Be messengers of splendour to you now ; 
 
 Each minion casting at your feet some gem 
 
 Worthy your white neck, or your arm, or brow. 
 
 If one should falter if one fail herein 
 
 Denounce the traitor ! It shall surely bring 
 
 111 to that slave, as when an Arab Djin 
 
 Vexed Suleiman, or mocked Aladdin's ring ! 
 
FlRE-OPALS, Fanny, from the magic cell ! 
 
 First of my alchemy, but not its best 
 Let me lay these upon your hands, and tell 
 
 Why they seem not unworthy there to rest. 
 
 For since God chained, in nether rock and bluff, 
 Those radiant, sinful Angels, rebel found, 
 
 Were ever in the midst of dead dull stuff 
 Such burning, flashing beams of glory bound ? 
 
 I think a broken rainbow would look so, 
 If we could come at it, and steal a tittle 
 
 When the Arch- Architects of air forego 
 
 Their work, and leave it drifting loose a little. 
 
 I pray you gaze a while on these lit stones 
 By fancy fetched from Australasian steeps, 
 
 Where moony pearl sets blazing scarlet tones, 
 And pale gold melts to green, and amber leaps 
 
16 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 To bloomy violets ; and celestial blues 
 
 Flicker to rose and ruby. You shall turn 
 
 Nowise these jewels, but their shifting hues 
 To some new brilliancy will swiftly burn. 
 
 So shall true lady bend no faithful love 
 
 Toward some new need, but from its patient heart 
 
 Rays of an unexpected light will move, 
 And richer colours from its spirit start. 
 
 Mark, also, when the " noble opal " feels 
 
 Your palm's warm glow, its dancing beauties brighten 
 Breathe on this Hydrophane the rose-tint steals 
 
 From point to point ; and sea-green flashes lighten 
 
 The sleeping flint ! Or, lay this Hyalite 
 One instant 'mid the laces of your dress, 
 
 Then note its sudden splendours ! So, 'tis right 
 Love's colours be drawn forth by tenderness. 
 
 Yet, here is why I prize the shifting gem, 
 And why I lay it on that dear right hand, 
 
 Of all earth's common things the core of them 
 
 Is humblest : Sweetheart ! pray you understand ! 
 
OPALS. 17 
 
 Mean rubbish of the road-heaps ; silicates 
 
 Which gather in chalk-hollows, where, sea-bred, 
 
 Millions of billions, tubes and tunicates 
 
 Laid down their limy shells, Nature's small dead. 
 
 Who would have thought there should be use, or other 
 
 Service, for such lost Atoms of the main 
 When, sinking through the seas, they give the Mother 
 
 Their tiny life- garbs, to lay up again ? 
 
 But She, who hastes not, wastes not, scorns not takes it, 
 Each relic of her nameless children gone, 
 
 Stores her sea-oozes with their spoil, and makes it 
 Chalk down, or marble vein, or quarry- stone. 
 
 Till ages thence of ruined numrnulites, 
 Pharaohs their pyramids majestic build ; 
 
 And Pheidias, from a tomb of trilobites, 
 
 Calls Pallas forth, radiant with helm and shield ! 
 
 So this fair wonder ; 'tis the draff of rock 
 
 Melted in fires of under-world, or broken 
 From snow-swept crag, or shorn in earthquake-shock ; 
 
 Of storm, and stress, and wreck the splintered token. 
 
 B 
 
18 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And yet, because Day's white rays evermore 
 Find their way back into such flinty things, 
 
 They glow like Seraphs' feathers. None is poor ! 
 
 None mean ! Heaven's light can make them mates 
 for kings ! 
 
A. 
 
 HEREWITH, an Amethystine Cup ! see, Dear ! 
 
 How soft and pure the liquid purple swims ! 
 Tis the Maid's stone : she hath no fault or fear 
 
 Whose untouched lips drink from such chalice-brims ; 
 
 Whose virginal cold fingers clasp this stem 
 To quaff the sober wavelet of the streams ; 
 
 And, if she wear an Amethyst, the gem 
 
 Keeps her sleep calm, and innocent her dreams. 
 
 It should be coloured as though violet satin 
 
 Changed to translucent crystal with clear glow 
 
 Of rose-red 'gainst the Sun : the learned Latin 
 " Eyelid of Venus " styles it, tinted so. 
 
 Or you may wear Avanturine with spangles 
 
 Of golden brown ; or Chrysoprase which gleams 
 
 Pale apple-green ; or Rose-quartz that entangles 
 Blushes of dawn, with white and lilac beams : 
 
20 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Or Sard, the Carver's gem ; or Bloodstone sombre 
 Spotted from veins of Christ the legend says 
 
 Or Prase ; or Plasma, sea-grey stained with umber ; 
 Or Chalcedony, quenching silver rays 
 
 In milk. These all be sister-miracles 
 
 Of Amethyst ; treasures of gnomes, brought up 
 
 From distant caverns where the chill snake dwells 
 'Mid poisonous flow'rs. Yet, most regard my cup 
 
 Far-fetched and wonderful ! If you would know 
 Whence came so fair a work of mortal hands, 
 
 Learn it lay buried many fathoms low 
 Under a temple- tank in Indian lands. 
 
 (Elian " the honey-tongued " its story writes 
 In pleasant Greek ; one, named Heraclia, 
 
 A great Dame in her Garden of Delights 
 Saw a young stork fall on the public way : 
 
 Some cruel arrow-barb had hurt its wing 
 
 Spread for long flight to Coromandel's shore ; 
 
 Piteous, in dust and blood, the affrighted thing 
 Lay : but she sped, and gathered it, and bore 
 
AMETHYSTS. 21 
 
 Soft-folded on her breast into her bower ; 
 
 And there, with soothing balms and unguents strange, 
 Healed his harsh wound, and gave him back the power 
 
 Of those broad painted pinions, to outrange 
 
 The flying crudded rack, poised in high air. 
 
 Ah, the stork's happy cry when first he rose 
 Over the city-roofs, and spied full clear 
 
 His road athwart the blue as a fowl goes 
 
 On shoulder of West wind to warm Malay ! 
 
 A little grieved she that her bird sprang forth 
 So gladsome. Afterwards on that same way 
 
 When Spring brings back the storks from South to 
 North ; 
 
 While she did pace towards the Altar-stair, 
 
 Out from the clouds that glad cry rang again : 
 
 And lo ! th' astonished people were aware 
 
 Of a great fowl, which clanged, and left his train 
 
 Of friends ranged wedge-wise. Lighting at her feet 
 There he let fall this beauteous sculptured cup, 
 
 And laid his neck against her bosom sweet 
 For love of her : then, swiftly soaring up, 
 
22 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Was never seen again ! Heraclia 
 
 Quaffed from no other vessel, all her life ; 
 
 And poisons could not harm her ; nor books say 
 Pains or plagues touch her ; widow, maid, or wife ! 
 
 But when she died, and this rare goblet lay 
 Beside her bier, there came a whirr of wing 
 
 Under the marble porch ; and bore away 
 The precious gift. So fell it to the King 
 
 Of Coromandel : and when he was slain 
 In Chittur, s.ome one hid it in the tank. 
 
 I bade my minion fish it up again, 
 
 And bear to thee. Drink as Heraclia drank ! 
 
N. 
 
 NEPHRITE, herewith ! the sea-green China Jade ; 
 
 A sacred stone ! If you would magic try 
 Carve I. 8. I. I on a square well-made, 
 
 (Its demon-number) in the charactery 
 
 Of hieroglyphs for Egypt knew this well 
 And named it Nilion from her ancient river ; 
 
 In Babylon 'twas dedicate to Bel ; 
 
 Kings sealed decrees therewith ; aye ! and, or ever 
 
 A Spaniard's eye from Darien surveyed 
 Amazed the blue Pacific's endlessness, 
 Those feather-cinctured Aztecs worshipped Jade 
 And graved their Gods upon it ! Well ! impress 
 
 The figures ; set it in pure gold, and breathe 
 Thrice at the dawning on it, thrice at night, 
 
 Repeating " Thoth " five hundred times ; then wreathe 
 A red thread round it afterwards no wight, 
 
24 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Be he crowned Prince, or Lord, or Common man, 
 Saith nay to any wish that shall arise ! 
 
 But you you smile ! knowing how Woman can 
 Weave stronger spells with jewels of her eyes. 
 
 Leave, then, the amulet. Still, if you take 
 A bead of grey Jade, cut with Shiva's mark, 
 
 'Tis sure by Hindoo mantras not one snake 
 Will dare to cross your pathway in the dark ! 
 
 You " will not walk," say you, " where such be found/ 
 
 Eve of a safer Paradise ? Then, see 
 How daintily the pale green Nephrite-ground 
 
 Backs the hot rubies in this jewellery 
 
 Of Muslim art ! An Amir's dagger-hilt, 
 Patiently polished for his angry hand ! 
 
 Note how the damasked waving blade is built 
 With blood-channels, and all its beauty planned 
 
 To kill, kill, kill ! exquisite devilry 
 
 Of arabesques of death, wrought without joint 
 
 'Mid two pure rows of seed-pearls, running free 
 Hither and thither in a slot ; keen point 
 
JADE. 25 
 
 Like a snake's tooth ! Heed the gold script inlaid 
 All up and down the steel like trickling blood ! 
 
 Ya Jannat " Ah, the Garden ! " that is said 
 To signify one little thrust makes good 
 
 The road to Paradise ; and see, writ deep 
 
 Bi maruf ullali " by God's love and fear, 
 
 To whomso 'tis appointed I bring sleep 
 
 Deeper than poppies ! " Yet another here 
 
 A lovely masterpiece of mortal spite 
 
 Hafted in delicate Avanturine ; 
 Sumptuously set with ruby stars of light 
 
 As if a foeman's gore congealed had been 
 
 In drops about the gilded guard : its badge 
 
 Al Tiamdu wa al manat Lillahi 
 " To God be praise and glory ! " meaning rage 
 
 To consecrate ! And all this gear to see 
 
 Of Jade and gems, embellishing mere Hate ! 
 
 If craftsmen to cold murder lend such grace 
 What should they do for Love ? Ah, Sweetheart, wait ! 
 
 My slaves shall seek gifts in a gentler place. 
 
N. 
 
 NACRE, and Pearls of Ormuz, now I fetch 
 
 From the bright stores of Love's enchanted Palace 
 
 Know you, perchance, how that poor formless wretch- 
 The Oyster gems his shallow moonlit chalice ? 
 
 Where the shell irks him, or the sea-sand frets, 
 There, from some subtle organ, he doth shed 
 
 This lovely lustre on his grief, and gets 
 
 Peace, and the world his labour, being dead. 
 
 Ah, patient foolish fish of the Orient seas ! 
 
 What else do we, the Poets, serfs of men, 
 But pour our souls out in soft verse, to ease 
 
 Our aches, and die ; and people make us then 
 
 vVealth, whence they draw musical ornament 
 For lovers' use, and sweet wise things to say ; 
 
 And wonder if the Lady did relent, 
 
 Or keep the pearls, and throw the life away. 
 
PEARLS. 27 
 
 For here be pearls, too ; pearls of lucent ray 
 
 For some one strung to mark her where she goes 
 
 A Pearl of women ; and when others say 
 
 " Oh, you glad Lady ! who did give you those : 
 
 " Pearls of white thought, pearls of a lasting love ? " 
 Then will you finger them on your fair throat, 
 
 And answer : " These came deeper than from grove 
 Of sea-trees, green beneath the diver's boat ! 
 
 " Full many a fathom down I hanselled them 
 In heart of him who did not grudge, indeed ; 
 
 He would have melted Cleopatra's gem 
 In wine of verse, if I had said c I need 
 
 " ' New splendours for my necklet ? ' On one day 
 I did not know he lived ; and that day's morrow 
 
 I knew he loved me well ; and thence alway 
 I am his peace and pain, his crown and sorrow ! " 
 
 " Ah," they will cry, " for such strong faith, Pardie ! 
 
 We, now, had shown great favour ; pearls are much ! " 
 But thou, wear, and speak nought ! I give them thee 
 
 Free of all price, and a king's hoard of such. 
 
28 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 There was a King promised his beauteous Queen 
 A virgin necklace of pure matchless pearls 
 
 Which ne'er before had worn or threaded been, 
 Milk-white from where the Arab fisher furls 
 
 His sails of mat ; and stoops and plunges in, 
 And sees the light fade farther from his eyes, 
 
 And hears the dreadful, weltering, waters' din ; 
 Yet dares the agony, and grasps the prize; 
 
 Sinking a slave, with hardly means to feed ; 
 
 Eeturning, gift-giver to Queens and Kings, 
 The brine choking his lips, the bladdered weed 
 
 Tangling his feet, but those pale precious things 
 
 Safe in his loin cloth ! And, perchance, one day 
 He watched the high Sultana pass in state ; 
 
 The necklace warm between her breasts, her way 
 Lined by a worshipping crowd, her sceptred mate 
 
 Proud of that pearled Consort. And his heart 
 Would laugh within him saying, " Lord of lands ! 
 
 In what thou lovest I, too, claim a part ! 
 She is so fair because these toilsome hands 
 
PEARLS. 29 
 
 " Tore from the waves their wealth. Yea, Pearl of pearls! 
 
 Lulu-'l-maknun ! than Houris lovelier, 
 That hast the black eyes of the Prophet's Girls 
 
 Promised in Paradise, and mouth of myrrh ; 
 
 " In next life after this whose wilt thou be, 
 
 His that gave gold for thee, or mine, who went 
 
 Across the shark's jaws to the nether sea, 
 
 Nigh dead for breath, that thou might'st pace 
 content ? " 
 
 So, Queen of mine ! I am that Eastern King ! 
 
 These pearls were never strung which I send thee ; 
 I ransacked unknown gulfs for them, I bring 
 
 New moonlight wonders from an unsailed sea. 
 
 Nay, and my Pearl ! I am that Arab Diver ! 
 
 I stooped and plunged for you into the wave, 
 Eeturning rich yet richer, when forever, 
 
 The treasure of the upper air I have ; 
 
 If not ! Ah, life's light quenched, and life's faith broken! 
 
 How fares it with pearl-fisher dead and foiled ? 
 Lost ! tossing on the billows for a token 
 
 Of his large hope, he drifts where he had toiled ; 
 
30 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 A.nd sea-birds which are like sharp thoughts consume 
 him ; 
 
 And hideous fish fierce as love-longings tear 
 The heart that beat so bold ; and storm-clouds gloom him 
 
 Out from the sight of Heaven. Pity him, Dear ! 
 
Y. 
 
 Ydcut Asfur : so the swart Sonar names 
 These golden-lighted topazes from Ind : 
 
 If you should heed his tale, their yellow flames 
 Gleam in the dark so that a man may find 
 
 A path thereby ; or read in Holy Writ ; 
 
 Or see her lips whose neck lies on his arm ; 
 Also the topaz (levigating it) 
 
 Cures sleeplessness, scant breath, and fever's harm ; 
 
 Soothes anger ; strengthens wit ; counterchecks spells ; 
 
 Aids divination, and on cups inlaid 
 If poison lurk within, faithfully tells, 
 
 Becoming pale ! Albertus Magnus said 
 
 It was Draconium a Dragon's bone 
 
 (Black and pyramidal) which rendered sight 
 
 To Theodosius. Nay, indeed, the stone 
 
 Was Topaz ! Shall I give you this aright ? 
 
32 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 'Twas in those times when birds and beasts could talk, 
 Who now are wiser than to know too much ; 
 
 When newer eyes saw Shades and Angels walk ; 
 
 And younger hands feared not God's hand to touch ; 
 
 The ' Gesta Eomanorum ' tells it : he, 
 
 The blind great Caesar, hung a brazen gong 
 
 Before his Palace-gate, whither nocked free 
 All citizens, and whoso suffered wrong 
 
 Might beat the brass and speak lofty or low 
 Into that Emperor's ear, patient reclining ; 
 
 The purple wrapped around his sightless brow, 
 But in his soul the Light of Justice shining. 
 
 Thus, one day came a snake which had her young 
 Under the gateway-tower : she, sharply hissing, 
 
 Struck with her coils the echoing gong that hung 
 Against the porch. Thereon, Caesar dismissing 
 
 The dark-eyed girls who fanned him cried in Greek 
 " Have entrance, friend ! " And, gliding in, the Snake 
 
 Did homage with her crest in dust ; then, meek 
 Addressed the Master of the East : " I make 
 
TOPAZES. 
 
 33 
 
 " My nest beneath thy wall, where, yesternight, 
 Safe slept my brood^to me more fair and brave 
 
 Than those rich ropes of sards and jacinths bright 
 Binding thy head-cloth : but, while I, thy slave, 
 
 " Wandered for food, there stole a porcupine 
 Into my hole, and ate my snakelets three ; 
 
 And hath my wonted house, as 'twere not mine ! 
 And will not yield ! Now, therefore, unto me 
 
 Grant justice, Caesar ! " Then, the sightless King 
 
 Gave straight command they kill that beast, and lead 
 
 The Serpent safely homeward. And this thing 
 Was wrought ; and men lightly forgot the deed. 
 
 But, on the morrow, at the hour of noon 
 When Theodosius on his day-bed slept 
 
 Jewelled with many a jet and amber moon, 
 
 And ringed and gilt, a monstrous serpent crept 
 
 Over the patterned pavements, clomb the bed ; 
 
 And, gliding to the cheek of Csesar, laid 
 From its wide jaws, thick-set with fangs and red, 
 
 A Topaz upon either lid ! Affrayed 
 
34 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 The Guards beheld, and would have slain the Worm 
 Save that it uttered : " Let me pass with life ! 
 
 Eouse ye your Lord ! then will all men affirm 
 I pay full court-fees for my righted wife." 
 
 And lo ! when Theodosius waked, his eyes 
 
 Were purged of cloud ! the blessed beam of Day 
 
 Shone once more, his to joy in ; and surprise 
 Fell on the city. But Love wins alway ! 
 
 Two marvels hath the Topaz ! When 'tis laid 
 The light wine-coloured jewel in the sun, 
 
 Day by day you shall mark its glories fade ; 
 Golden and crimson lustres, one by one, 
 
 Perishing into paleness ! Lesson-laden 
 
 The gem's deed is, for see you not a token ? 
 
 Was never tender secret of fair maiden 
 But lost its deep delight in being spoken. 
 
 Again, take amber-yellow Topazes ! 
 
 Heat them safe-packed in crucible and lay 
 All glowing on white stone ; and then, as is 
 
 The dying dolphin's change, or shift of Day 
 
TOPAZES. 35 
 
 Melting to Night, so show the strange adornings 
 Of this gem cooling : first, like ice it gleams 
 
 Hueless, then steals a tender tint of morning's 
 Soft earliest saffron ; afterwards it beams 
 
 Such faint pale pink as white hedge-roses blush with ; 
 
 And last all suddenly a rosy glow 
 Shoots through the stone, as rich as rubies flush with ; 
 
 Kemaining fixed ! Who made the Sun doth know 
 
 Why this should be ! Yet, clasp these jewels, too, 
 Near to your heart ! My next slave flies to bear 
 
 Stuff for that structure which I promised you, 
 A Fairy Palace, richer than Kings rear. 
 
MOONSTONE, and Malachite and Almondine ! 
 
 These for the Pleasure-Place I build with song, 
 Since you did say : " Now, lodge me like a Queen ! 
 
 Feign me a Bower of Fancy ! Love is strong ! " 
 
 Here, then, I dream a dream to house you in, 
 A Palace for my Princess, saying that : 
 
 The spot shall be where the great hills begin, 
 Rolling in dark waves from the Deccan flat. 
 
 This way on Maharashtra's plains they look ; 
 
 That way to mountains and the Arab sea ; 
 A forest, full of many a tangled nook, 
 
 Clothes the grey crags with green embroidery. 
 
 Fair is the scene, and sweet the seasons all ; 
 
 The folk Mahrattas ; pastoral, simple, brave. 
 Thither my fairy architects I call, 
 
 And there a lovely Indian home I'd have ! 
 
MOONSTONE. 37 
 
 Like to abodes of the East, the stateliest planned, 
 
 With white wide walls, high domes, gates gold and red ; 
 
 Pillared chabootras, dark with shade, shall stand 
 Round the first court, where steps of marble spread 
 
 Before a pierced-work porch, whereby you pass 
 To inner coolness, through a columned cloister, 
 
 Whose roof rose-crystal polished thin as glass, 
 Lights the veined pavements, all of alabaster. 
 
 Scented strange woods shall frame the chamber-doors, 
 Fountains of fragrant waters will be there ; 
 
 Along the ways, and winding stairs, and floors 
 Delicious things of Art shall make it fair ! 
 
 Blossoms of unnamed hues and odours fine 
 
 Shall deck the courts for you the Flower of All ! 
 
 Birds in the orange-walks and lanes of vine 
 
 Shall know your name, and come when you do call ! 
 
 Flowers, too, shall glow of never-fading bloom, 
 
 On screens of Jasper wrought, fencing the Bower, 
 
 Such as one sees in that white Temple-Tomb, 
 Reared by great Shah Jehan on Jumna's shore, 
 
38 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 To keep for ever famous Mumtaz' name 
 The Lady of his Throne a hundred gems, 
 
 Cut to their burning hearts one flower to frame ; 
 Then inlaid on the slabs, in anadems, 
 
 And wreaths, and arabesques of rare conceit, 
 A changeless garden, where the happy eye 
 
 Lights nowhere, but some posy, costly-sweet, 
 Fills it with joy of daintiest jewellery. 
 
 I will have columns such as Solomon 
 
 Commanded of his Djins naming The Name 
 
 Cut in the blue of that dread signet stone, 
 His magic Sapphire ; columns such as came 
 
 Across the Aramcean sands, across 
 The Erythraean billows ; syenite, 
 
 Black porphyry purple-veined, the satin gloss 
 Of onyx ; coral, crystals, chrysolite, 
 
 With abaci of silver. I will have 
 
 A milk-white warm pavilion in the midst, 
 
 Such as Siddartha, Prince of India, gave 
 To bright Yasodhara. Whisper thou didst 
 
MOONSTONE. 
 
 That " Love is rich ; " and what, then, shall prevent 
 Our Palace with such Amethyst lamps to light 
 
 As gleamed o'er Cleopatra's sleep, and sent 
 
 Rayc of soft splendour through th' Egyptian night ; 
 
 Dimming Mizar and Algol ? What forbids 
 To ordain such hangings as Aladdin chose 
 
 Of blue and amber silks ; and coverlids 
 
 Stiff with sewn gold and seed pearls ? Ay, or those 
 
 Carpets of Iran woven thick with tints 
 
 Of peach and tulip ; and sweet secret times 
 
 Of Leila and Majnun ; and pictured hints 
 Of lovers' bliss ; and tender subtle rhymes 
 
 From Persian verse seggadehs gay, where fall 
 The henna-stained small feet of Shiraz girls 
 
 Softly as snow on roses. Therewithal 
 
 A pleasaunce shall extend, where a stream purls 
 
 Cold from the crags, the sunny lawns along, 
 
 Sparkling from stone to stone ; bordered by ranks 
 
 Of blue and crimson lotus, and a throng 
 
 Of plumed palms shading all the dappled banks 
 
 39 
 
40 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 With shifting fans ; and underneath the palms, 
 Moon-flowers, musk-roses, and the silvery spear 
 
 Of aloes, and the champak's star of balms, 
 With milky mogras, breathing far and near 
 
 Breath as from Paradise ; Oh, and the walks 
 (New-watered every dawn) cut low and high 
 
 With runnels, where the mountain-water talks 
 Music to doves and mynas, nesting nigh ; 
 
 Ofttimes o'erleaped by golden-coated hordes 
 Of antelope, the bucks leading the way ; 
 
 The limpid-eyed light does following their lords, 
 Their shyness gone ; friendly, and safe, and gay : 
 
 For in our Palace peace and love shall reign, 
 And all fair creatures of the air and earth 
 
 Be friends of man, who, elsewhere, pays his pain 
 
 With pain and harm to these ; though Death and Birth 
 
 Are one for all, and Life the self-same sadness, 
 Where Love and Pity rule not ! There shall be 
 
 For gentle service faces full of gladness ; 
 Willing swift feet, and happy vassalry ; 
 
MOONSTONE. 41 
 
 For good it is to obey where Love is master, 
 And freest he who serves the noblest Queen ; 
 
 Therefore, thou minister ! bring fast and faster 
 Moonstone, and Malachite, and Almondine ! 
 
A. 
 
 AQUAMARINE from Fancy's treasure-hall ! 
 
 Yet sad to-day for me this sea-green stone ; 
 For on the Channel-sands your light feet fall, 
 
 And I, among these millions, walk alone. 
 
 But, wave-stained jewel ! shine with brighter thought ! 
 
 It was across the Deep years back she came ; 
 The billows, which are of thy colour, brought 
 
 That gentle face to us. For this I name 
 
 The Beryl, water-tinted, as one stone 
 
 To spell you. On its lucent face is writ 
 
 fiaicpov airea-n TOTTO? " all alone, 
 
 Far hence, among the wine-dark waves, they sit." 
 
 The " happy Isles," he means, who carved that line ; 
 
 For ancient sailors told a mystic story 
 How some had seen, had touched in joy divine 
 
 Makaron nesous, at the " Groups of Glory," 
 
AQUAMARINE. 43 
 
 The sweet " Sea-Paradise " so hints this Greek ! 
 
 Ah, if wave-coloured gem could guide us there ; 
 And we, far voyaging, might sight some peak 
 
 Unknown, unnamed cleaving the tranquil air 
 
 With pinnacles which feel no storm, and steeps 
 Lawny and lovely, where Death does not come, 
 
 Nor change, nor hate, nor care ; but alway sleeps 
 The purple main around the perfect home ! 
 
 Where we should find delightful friends and lovers, 
 
 And hear no word of woe on any lip ; 
 Opening glad eyes, as when the Dawn discovers 
 
 A sky of blue and gold, and ill dreams slip 
 
 Back to that gloom which bred them : where the wonder 
 Of "whence" and "why" and "whither" would be 
 known ; 
 
 And we should lie, like Gods, above the thunder, 
 The Past perceived, the Future sure and shewn ; 
 
 Such were great magic ! But the Isles in mind 
 Rise farther than the farthest ocean, Dear ! 
 
 Thither to sail with e'er so fair a wind 
 
 Asks more than toil of many a wandering year ! 
 
44 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 We shall not reach them, save with Earth for vessel, 
 Sky for our sea, and for long voyage Life ; 
 
 But if Love steers, at last our sails may nestle, 
 
 Furled in those far-off Isles past storm and strife. 
 
RUBIES, with Pearls ! That's Nature's jewellery ! 
 
 Look in your mirror when you speak my name, 
 And while you say it you may plainly see 
 
 Those charming reasons why I write the same ; 
 
 Pearl-rows which gleam through rose-leaf lips of grace 
 
 Ah, no ! I will not weave such worn-out posies ; 
 I had a higher fancy for this place 
 
 Than rhymes which jingle " rubies, pearls, and roses." 
 
 For these are Mdnikas stones true and good, 
 
 Which my spell brings from Burmah's steaming grove. 
 
 Such have the colour of the drop of blood 
 Shed on the white neck of a wounded dove. 
 
 Of such was carved the magic vial filled 
 
 With water from the " Fount of Youth " that wells 
 
 Behind the " Sea of Darkness ; " water spilled 
 By Sultan Suleiman. Ben Ali tells 
 
46 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 This legend, done in Persian, from the Book 
 " Lights of Canopus " how the Hebrew Khan 
 
 Sate on the cloud-roofed mountain-tops which look 
 This way on Ind, that way to Khorasan. 
 
 Angels and Djins and Peris round the king 
 
 Paid homage, mixed with man and beast and bird, 
 
 For on his finger was the Sapphire-ring 
 
 Graved with the name of God, which whoso heard, 
 
 Hearing, obeyed. Wherefore the Eagles flew 
 
 Against the sun, to shade him; she-bears brought 
 
 Wild honey ; snakes their jewels ; flowers upgrew 
 To make a footstool for his feet. Outraught 
 
 Over the Earth his sceptre none withstood 
 In lands, or seas, or nether- worlds, or sky 
 
 Where like to glassy fish in glassy flood, 
 Blue in blue hyaline the Spirits lie 
 
 Un viewed, but living : and, this thing was seen ; 
 
 There drifted from the Pass a darksome cloud 
 Which, gliding nigh the mountain-crests between, 
 
 Took vast and filmy form, at first a shroud 
 
RUBIES. 47 
 
 That seemed to wrap some phantom-head ; but, soon 
 A shape of grace whose light and colour gleamed 
 
 From gold of setting sun, pearl of new moon, 
 
 With wings of waving sapphire, hair which streamed 
 
 Curled jacinth on the breeze ; garments of amber 
 Draped vaguely from an azure girdle-band ; 
 
 Great breasts of rounded rose, veils that enchamber 
 A half-spied awful countenance ; a hand 
 
 Slow-issuing from the shade, holding a cup 
 Cut from the sunset's ruby, light compressed 
 
 To solid splendour " Drink this liquor up ! " 
 
 A voice cried : " drink, dread King ! The high behest 
 
 " Of Him Whose Name is on thy Signet- Stone 
 Wills I bring water from the Well of Life ; 
 
 Of all men, Suleiman ! to thee alone 
 
 God proffers this ! a draught with power so rife 
 
 " That, quaffing it, thy flesh and blood shall take 
 Even as an Angel's, comely, changeless youth ; 
 
 Days without end, delights of sense to make 
 Immortal years seem few ; insight of Truth 
 
48 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Such as thy Soul hath craved for. Drink or spill ! 
 
 Have here this Vessel with its dancing draught ; 
 My errand is performed ! Judge how ye will, 
 
 Suleiman and the Counsellors ! " A waft 
 
 Of sighing wind scattered the waning shape ; 
 
 In the King's grasp the Euby Vial shone ; 
 Far down the Pass from splintered cape to cape 
 
 Faded the breaking cloud-flecks, one by one. 
 
 But, when the strange Voice ceased, Suleiman mused : 
 " Yea ! good it were to drink this gift of God ; 
 
 Good to repair my days and nights misused, 
 Treading with wiser steps life's ways retrod : 
 
 " Good to win back the fiery speed of youth 
 In veins which slacken ; good to ever guard 
 
 My kingdom ; to strip bare beautiful Truth 
 
 With eyes undimmed, heart's hot desire unmarred, 
 
 " Wholly possessing her, naked and pure ; 
 
 Myself ever renewed, joyous, and strong ; 
 Good, too, it were to have my years endure, 
 
 That God's fair Temple, which I fashion long 
 
RUBIES. 49 
 
 " May grow to perfect glory ; and my wars 
 Close in sure peace, I seeing, age by age, 
 
 My people prosper under wider stars, 
 
 In larger lands ; till, on the great last page 
 
 " Of this World's Book Suleiman's name shall shine ! 
 
 Yea ! I will 'drink ! Yet, ye who gather near, 
 Djins ! Angels ! Beasts and Fowls, Servants of mine ! 
 
 How counsel ye your King ? Fain would I hear." 
 
 With loud acclaim, " Drink, happy King ! " said they ; 
 
 And one with dark plumes folded, evil-eyed, 
 Sakhrah the Dev who, later, stole away 
 
 Suleiman's signet-ring low bending, cried : 
 
 " Drink, Lord of Lords ! the gold of youth is bright, 
 And dull the silver of slow-creeping eld ; 
 
 And dear are wealth and power ; and soft the night 
 By dawn of lovely ladies' eyes dispelled ! " 
 
 And Shir the Djin spake : knowing magic best 
 " Drink, Friend of God ! the Earth's weal rests on thee 
 
 As sleeps an infant on a nursing breast ; 
 
 It were not well thy Throne should vacant be ! " 
 
 D 
 
50 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And Amberin the Peri, gliding close 
 
 With flutter of white plumes, said, " Drink, my King ! 
 The joys of men and Devs in thee repose 
 
 As gems are held in cirque of golden ring ! " 
 
 Assad the Lion answered for the beasts, 
 
 Laying his shagged mane at the Monarch's feet, 
 
 " Drink, Master of all forests ! Thy brave feasts 
 Have known no wine like this, subtle and sweet ! * 
 
 And Sag, the Seal, moist from the Indian main, 
 
 Drooped his black fins, and bellowed : " Sovereign, 
 drink ! 
 
 The Water-creatures and the Fish are fain 
 
 That thou shouldst live for ever ! " From the brink 
 
 Of Baikal flew the Locust, chirping : " Khan ! 
 
 Drink ! for all things which burrow, creep, and buzz, 
 Trust thee to help them, helping beast and man : 
 
 And Who doth raise the dead from one bone, Luz, 
 
 " Gives thee at one draught Angelhood ! " Spake last 
 Hud-hud, the Lapwing, piping : " I have seen 
 
 The glory of Queen Balkis now o'erpassed ; 
 
 Drink, Lord ! for never such a gift hath been ! * 
 
RUBIES. 51 
 
 But glancing sternly round, quoth Suleiman : 
 
 " Are all things here ? Hath none some other rede ? 
 
 Lo ! ere I drink, and pass to God from Man, 
 Is every counsel uttered ? " " Hast thou need, 
 
 " Great King ! " the hill-fox barked, " to hear what word 
 Kiimri will speak ? She tarrieth on her nest ! 
 
 I spied her in the thorns ! " " Send forth a bird 
 To summon her ! " quoth he. At such behest 
 
 Came Kiimri, flying from her tree ; the Dove 
 Who hath the neck of purple, and the wings 
 
 Of silver, and the breast filled full of love : 
 
 Heaven's softest creature. Spake she : " King of 
 Kings, 
 
 " Pardon thy handmaid that she stayed to brood 
 
 Twin eggs which must not chill ! Thy dread command 
 
 Passed unto me, and I have left my wood ! 
 
 What dost thou with the red cup in thy hand ? " 
 
 " I hold from Heaven a draught of life immortal, 
 
 The Ma-ul-Haiyat ! " Suleiman replied : 
 " If I shall quaff, Death's dark and hateful portal 
 
 Never can gape for me ! " Then, Kumri sighed : 
 
52 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Ah, mighty Lord ! how should a little bird, 
 Which only knows to nest and brood and coo, 
 
 Counsel great Suleiman ? Yet be this heard ; 
 Hath He, Who gave the water, given, too, 
 
 " The boon that whosoever holds thy heart, 
 Queen, lover, friend, concubine, daughter, son 
 
 May in the magic potion take their part ? 
 
 For then this guerdon were a precious one ! " 
 
 " Nay ! " the King said, " to me alone the cup ! 
 
 Not larger, see ! than those eggs thou didst leave ! 
 I am commanded if I will to sup 
 
 Its last bright drop ! " Then, moaned the Dove, 
 " I grieve 
 
 " They counsel thee to drink ; for all will go, 
 
 Thy Queens, thy children, ministers, and slaves ; 
 
 Thy best belov'd will be as last year's snow 
 
 On these hot mountains ! Thou wilt rule mid graves : 
 
 " Dead thou though livest with thy dead ; and see 
 Lip after lip, pressed once to thy lip, press 
 
 The bitter brim of Fate's black cup ; and be 
 Sad in thy splendour, with such loneliness 
 
RUBIES. 
 
 " As deserts know not, nor the lifeless main : 
 
 Thy Earth around thee will grow old and grey ; 
 
 Thy Kingdoms pass ; thy fields fall wild again, 
 But thou too favoured shalt be young alway 
 
 " With memory only old ; yet, that will taste 
 
 Death in the dust which blows from every tomb ; 
 
 Death in the flowers which wave in every waste, 
 Death in the mid-day light, death in the gloom ! 
 
 " Lord of all Kings ! forgive ! Love bids me speak ! 
 
 If her mate cometh not the wild dove dies ! 
 I would not drink hereof, who am so weak, 
 
 Lest I might lose by gaining : Love is wise ! " 
 
 Thereon departed Kumri flying hard 
 
 To find her nest ere the twin eggs should chill : 
 
 And Suleiman the King, upon the sward 
 
 With eager hand the magic draught did spill. 
 
 53 
 
I. 
 
 IDOCRASE ! Garnet from the Hills of Flame 
 
 A stone thus known hides in dark Hentha's glade 
 
 Which , when the Indians find, with joy they name, 
 And proving toil no more ; their gain is made : 
 
 The " Noble Garnet ! " There the colour lives 
 So fine and rich no wheel can cut it dim : 
 
 Flake it, or break it, every splinter gives 
 
 One glorious crimson glow from core to rim ; 
 
 The colour of the blood of a man's heart 
 
 When between red and purple it doth sweep 
 
 Through the chief vein of all ; nay, or a part 
 
 Of the heart's self, carved where the life lies deep. 
 
 So if you say " such praise is common speech ! " 
 And " I have heard these tender things before ! " 
 
 Ah, Sweetheart ! let my Indian Garnets teach 
 A better word to you, a wiser lore ; 
 
GARNETS. 55 
 
 For these are cut, Dear ! from a heart of faith ; 
 
 The colour of Love's blood within them glows. 
 Know you a mystical Purana saith 
 
 There lurks in Balkh, under the lower snows, 
 
 A gem so hued, like purple wine congealed, 
 Styled Chintasiddhi (that's " Desire fulfilled "), 
 
 And, whoso lighteth on it, goes afield 
 
 Where two streams meet ; and water being spilled 
 
 From forth his palm to all six quarters then 
 
 He whispers " OM " the stone laid on his tongue, 
 
 And therewith, from the forest or the glen, 
 A red she-wolf advances, great with young, 
 
 Who speaks a word ; and, if the man hath learned 
 The counter-word, that wolf will whine and moan ; 
 
 And sudden to a red-haired woman turned 
 Cry out : " I am the Servant of the Stone ! " 
 
 " Command me as thou wilt ! " Then, if he wills 
 A feast be spread for him on plates of gold ; 
 
 A palace builded in the hidden hills, 
 
 With courts and gardens wondrous to behold ; 
 
56 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Or, if lie will a magic horse with wings 
 
 To bear him through the Blue ; or mail of proof 
 
 No steel can pierce ; or if his fancyings 
 
 Lean towards lovely wives, or wealth, or woof 
 
 Of Kashmir silks with warp of silver thread, 
 
 Or pearls, or poisons she with blood-bright locks 
 
 Fetcheth them all ! You shake a dubious head ? 
 You think the heathenish Purana mocks ? 
 
 Oh, but the Talmud hath a passage, Dear ! 
 
 The grave, great Talmud telling how one flouted 
 
 Eabbi ben Zachai, at the hour of prayer, 
 
 Who said, while that rash unbeliever doubted, 
 
 Jahveh would build gates for Jerusalem 
 
 Of pearls and garnets, measuring every way 
 
 Full thirty cubits every stone of them 
 And cut them to ten cubits ; and so lay 
 
 Thresholds and lintels. Yet, that scorner laughed ! 
 
 But, next moon, sailing on the Joppa sea, 
 A white wave cast him over, and he quaffed 
 
 Salt drink of Death, down-sinking horribly ; 
 
GARNETS. 57 
 
 And touched the oozy bed ; and saw affrayed, 
 Sea-angels there, who rolled great pearls and stones 
 
 Full thirty cubits broad and long ; and made 
 Blocks of their mighty beauty. So his bones 
 
 Quaked at the sight, for all their angry eyes 
 
 Burned on him ; and he spake : " Oh, Angels ! say 
 
 Why cleave ye these ? " They answered, in stern wise, 
 " We cleave these pearls and carbuncles to lay 
 
 The portals of the Holy City ! " Judge 
 
 If he came back in better mind what time 
 
 They washed his mouth clean of the weeds and sludge, 
 And heard his trembling tale ! Ah, Darling ! rhyme 
 
 Kelates not half the marvels which lie hid 
 
 Behind our mocking light ! My next slave goes 
 
 To stranger spots than he ; and, since I bid, 
 
 Brings thee a Gem from Aaron's breast-plate rows. 
 
A. 
 
 THE third row of the holy Breast-Plate stood 
 " Agate, and Ligure, and an Amethyst." 
 
 Great Jewels, graven with the tribes of God, 
 
 Hallow my page ! and thou, be thy brow kissed 
 
 By Seraphim, as I hang this above it ; 
 
 Thy hands held up by Cherubim to pray ; 
 Thy soul made sure that splendid spirits love it ; 
 
 Thy feet set fast upon the blissful way ! 
 
 For, though I bring thee hither but in fiction 
 " Ephod of blue and gold," with mystic gem, 
 
 Let my verse pass, but be its benediction 
 Lasting, and crown thee like a diadem ! 
 
 Since prayer fulfils itself which rises rightly 
 
 From lips by gentle love made true and sweet; 
 
 So, let these belted Agates glitter brightly ; 
 As when Haroiin cast beneath his feet 
 
AGATES. 59 
 
 Coats of the camp, and donned white robe and mitre ; 
 
 And round his waist the " curious girdle " tied ; 
 And drew the thongs and gilded ouches tighter, 
 
 Hanging his breast-plate high Oh, beautified 
 
 By wondrous work of " gold and blue and crimson, 
 On fine-twined cloth " the gold beat out four-square 
 
 A span each way ; and gold chains linked the rims on, 
 With fourfold ranks of jewellery set fair, 
 
 First Sardius, Topaz, and the Jaspis green ; 
 
 Next Smaragd, Sapphire, and an Adamant ; 
 Third, Ligure, Agate, Amethyst were seen 
 
 Laid on chased beddings ; and the fourth line burnt 
 
 With Beryl, Onyx, Chrysolite : each stone 
 
 Carved with a Tribal name ! And he would go 
 
 Behind the Veil ; where shut from Earth, alone 
 He saw and heard what Israel might not know ; 
 
 For there the Ark was, and the Cherubim 
 
 Beat from pure gold, with golden pinions spread 
 
 Shading the Mercy- Seat. There God with him 
 
 Talked ; and none other heard the dread words said. 
 
60 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 But, if the days were evil if the camp 
 
 Had sinned the Agate changed its white to black ; 
 Waned the green Smaragd like a dying lamp ; 
 
 The Sapphire half its heavenly blue did lack ! 
 
 Ah ! if our gems of human love we bore 
 
 Behind that Veil, would many any keep 
 
 Their beauty of the laughing Day ? Would more 
 
 Be dimmed, than brightened ? See what legions weep 
 
 Of love-lorn maids for wooers proved untrue ! 
 
 What cohorts of true wooers curse false maids ! 
 Let us not enter in ! Enough, if you 
 
 Are fair, and I your poet fond, who braids 
 
 These jewelled fancies for your hair ! At last, 
 I think where Love has lived, it cannot die ; 
 
 Its flame may wane, its lustrous light seem past, 
 But what once shone shines on eternally ! 
 
 Yes ! lift the Veil ! In that dread darkness pray I 
 Heaven make your years all happy till we know 
 
 Th' Angelic peace compass and fill you say I 
 And God's love come when Earthly love must go ! 
 
AMBER ! You shall have Amber beads to bind 
 Your smooth brown hair threaded with Lazulite ! 
 
 I send my minion on swift wings to find 
 
 These hidden spoils of Earth for your delight : 
 
 And when round the Madonna's painted head 
 You limn aerial backgrounds, do you know 
 
 That the soft azures which your pencils spread 
 Come from this Lazulite gold- spangled so ? 
 
 " Ultramarina," those same sea-blue stones 
 Dug from dark caverns fringing Baikal's lake 
 
 The lucent airs, and large etherial tones, 
 And passages of painter's skies do make. 
 
 I think if you should delve such Lazulite 
 
 As hides within my heart all gold and blue 
 
 The gold of it would make your days seem bright, 
 The blue of it might arch fair skies for you : 
 
62 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Well ! ta,ke or leave ! You are too rich to need it ; 
 
 And love is sorrow so say all the wise 
 Though lovers never yet have deigned to heed it, 
 
 Since first your sweet sex cost us Paradise ! 
 
 Is Love so sad ? This Amber, clear and golden, 
 Wept from great trees which, when the woods began, 
 
 Waved boughs, it may be, over lovers olden, 
 Shaded their slumbers, built primeval man 
 
 His nuptial bowers : for, see ! the bead encloses 
 Winged things which fluttered in life's goodlihead ; 
 
 Here is embalmed memory of meadow- roses, 
 An epitaph on unseen summers dead. 
 
 So, too, for me, the Indian name of Amber 
 Enshrines the pathos of a Buddhist page : 
 
 Ah, now ! no story for a lady's chamber ! 
 Only the fable of some old-world Sage ! 
 
 Yet, you shall hear : she was Suvarna, " Shining," 
 The soft word pictures all the grace we praise 
 
 In Beauty's inner beam, subtly combining 
 Body and Soul, a perfumed lamp whose rays 
 
AMBER AND LAZULITE. 63 
 
 Gleam dim through alabaster. Legends note us 
 Her " eighteen perfect points," the fragrant hair ; 
 
 The eyes clear-cut as petals of the lotus ; 
 The shapely nose, the little faultless pair 
 
 Of ears carved shell-wise, and the close-set bosoms 
 Rounded " like tortoise-shell ; " the brown soft arms ; 
 
 Small hands, fine feet, mouth " red as bimba-blossoms," 
 Gait of a pacing roe, form showing charms 
 
 Like Sachi's, Queen of Heav'n. Lords did adore her, 
 Ranas and Khans from many wondrous lands : 
 
 Kings came on elephants to kneel before her, 
 Their kingdoms' jewels in their humbled hands. 
 
 When she would dance it seemed like Music moving, 
 Visible, living ! When she sang, the Rose 
 
 Forgot its nightingale ! the Ko'il loving 
 Stayed in his midway note to listen close ! 
 
 When one had seen Suvarna- says my story 
 Fresh from the bath, in robes of gold and red, 
 
 Her beauty glittering forth with youth's full glory, 
 Glad, in her palace, on an ivory bed ; 
 
64 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 All women seemed her shadows ! Still 'tis written 
 
 Lovers were many, but beloved none : 
 Not once with Kama's arrow sank she smitten ; 
 
 This sun-light Lady wearied of the sun ! 
 
 Then she heard Buddha preach ; and fierce upon her 
 Fell passion for that holiness he taught : 
 
 She would i Bhikshiini ' live ; no heart should own her ! 
 Freed should her soul be, and her footsteps brought 
 
 Into the Noble Path ! " So went she lonely 
 Climbing the hill-side to Lord Buddha's Cave ; 
 
 Hungering for Best and Righteousness, those only- 
 Thirsting for sweet melodious words which save. 
 
 But, on the midmost steep, whose rugged ways 
 Wounded the rose-red palms of her light feet, 
 
 A streamlet brimmed a pool : Suvarna stays 
 To sit and drink the water cool and sweet. 
 
 Thus, bending in the shadow of the mountain 
 To dip her hand and sip the crystal wave, 
 
 Like a steel mirror the translucent fountain 
 Back to her gaze her own bright image gave. 
 
AMBER AND LAZULITE. 65 
 
 There was the braided splendour of her tresses ! 
 
 There the deep wonder of her large dark eyes ! 
 There the brown neck and breast, made for caresses, 
 
 The flower-soft mouth, the shadowed charm which lies 
 
 In curve of nape, and sweep of silken shoulder ; 
 
 The supple tapering waist, the swelling round 
 Of hip and shapely limb : her own beholder 
 
 Suvarna marvelled at the form she found. 
 
 " Was I so fair ? " she sighed : " Well might they love 
 me, 
 
 Kajas and Sirdars ! And what days we had, 
 Good, glorious days ! before the ache did move me 
 
 To hear this Kishi. Am I sane or mad 
 
 " To mount his hill ? The Gods have given me beauty 
 As to the Ketuk-flower they gave perfume ; 
 
 And gold bands to their bees ! Is it not duty 
 The bee should suck the honey of the bloom ? " 
 
 Therewith her tears welled, falling pearl by pearl 
 Into the pool, which broke its glass with ripples ; 
 
 Vanished the image ! Then the Indian Girl 
 Tied the silk choli-strings beneath her nipples ; 
 
66 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And drew her sari round ; and, rising, turned, 
 Taking the downward path, and softly saying : 
 
 " Nay ! for such grace and youth must not be spurned ! 
 I was not made for penance and for praying : 
 
 " Some last, best, lover waits me ! " So, she runs 
 Laughing, adown the slope distantly hearing 
 
 Gay murmurings of the town, and pleasant tones 
 Of pipe and lute ; and feet of hamals bearing 
 
 Brides to their bridegrooms, " They who will may tread 
 The Noble Road," quoth she, a be mine the valley 
 
 Where pleasure lives ! " But Buddha overhead 
 Calm in his cave beheld Suvarna's folly ; 
 
 And pitied her ; and, pitying, sought to save : 
 So (saith the tale) by magic utterance stripping 
 
 His own form off, assumed the aspect, brave 
 
 And winsome, of a Nautch-Girl, featly tripping 
 
 Along the Damsel's path ; more heavenly fair, 
 
 Comelier and brighter than Suvarna's brightness ; 
 
 With tender wistful gaze, and gracious air, 
 
 Soft happy smile, and steps of dancing lightness. 
 
AMBER AND LAZULITE. 67 
 
 Amazed, enchanted, " Ah, thou loveliest One ! " 
 Suvarna cries : " Oh, not of Earth, but Heaven ! 
 
 What is thy name ? what errand goest thou on ? 
 Beautiful, perfect, Sister ! art thou given 
 
 " To comfort and confirm me ? Come with me ! " 
 Answered the stranger, soft as running water, 
 
 Or wood-doves cooing " Sweet such company ! 
 I am content ! " And so Suvarna brought her 
 
 With tender hand in tender hand enlacing, 
 
 And hearts close- beating, and commingling eyes, 
 
 Far down the hill. As that bright pair went pacing, 
 Melted with gentle love Suvarna sighs : 
 
 " Shiva ! how fair thou art ! th' Asoka's honey 
 Draws not the sunbird as thou drawest me ! 
 
 More than to list the wisdom of the Muni 
 It were to rest thy head upon my knee, 
 
 " And weave thy waist a girdle with mine arms, 
 And press a thousand times thy mouth of wonder : 
 
 Dear ! let us sit the sun grows hot ! thy charms 
 
 Ask shade, like palm-buds in the month of thunder ! " 
 
68 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 So sate they down ; and, locked in close embraces 
 Fed on each other's fairness love for love 
 
 Hands joined, arms twined, locks intermixed, soft faces 
 Nestled together like a dove with dove : 
 
 Till, fondling her to rest, her silk lids kissing, 
 Toying with taper hands, and smooth dark skin, 
 
 Suvarna's self sank into sleep, yet pressing 
 
 That beauteous maid her circling arms within. 
 
 All the fierce noon and afternoon they slumber ; 
 At eve the Indian girl, starting, awoke : 
 
 I said this was no tale for lady's chamber ! 
 Ah, can you bear to hear what terror broke 
 
 On sad Suvarna's gaze ? Clasped to her heart 
 A festering corpse tainted the air ; its bones 
 
 Kidged the shrunk flesh ; the putrid inward part 
 Blotched it with green and purple ; cold as stones 
 
 Glared its glazed orbs ; all the fair grace was fled 
 Like gold fruit mouldered, or a lily's crown 
 
 Withering to foulness ! Oh, that awful Dead ! 
 Suvarna flung her horrid playmate down, 
 
AMBER AND LAZULITE. 69 
 
 And shrieked, veiling her eyes ; and ran a space, 
 Wringing her palms. Then, nigh at hand, she saw 
 
 Lord Buddha looking on her tearful face 
 With countenance of majesty and awe. 
 
 " Daughter ! " spake he, " for this thing thou hast left 
 The path which should have led thee unto bliss ! 
 
 Lo ! as the flower fades and the fruit is reft, 
 Love ends in parting, Beauty fails to this ! 
 
 " As she was, so shalt thou be, and thy kind ! 
 
 Nay, if it chagrined thee to kiss a skull, 
 Be done with Love ! always red lips behind 
 
 Grin those white jaws for flames of funeral ! 
 
 " And worse things be than funeral pyres, or parting ; 
 
 The Spirit, sick with passion and sweet pain, 
 Flits back from Death to Life for direr starting 
 
 On Earth's wild wheel, and builds its house again : 
 
 " Since, what thou art, thou makest ! Trishna breeds it ! 
 
 Thine is the prison, and the gaoler thou ! 
 The snake which poisons man his own heart feeds it ; 
 
 Yet if thou wilt wake from this madness now, 
 
70 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Vanquish thy longings ! Come ! there is no sorrow 
 Like Pleasure ; no delight like passions slain ! 
 
 But if thou lust for life the stern To-morrow 
 Will find thee lost in thy self-chosen gain, 
 
 " As the grey crane dies by the dried-up lake 
 Where she laid foolish eggs. Meditate Truth ! 
 
 Enter the Noble Way ! Wise barter make 
 
 For blest Nirvana with thy grace and youth ! " 
 
 Then did Suvarna, with impatient hand, 
 
 Tear from her neck the amber beads and gold ; 
 
 Shook down her tresses from their jewelled band, 
 And cut, and cast them from her ; wild and bold ; 
 
 And meekly followed Buddh. Was that done well ? 
 
 Ah, Love ! love is so lovely, who can say ? 
 I only know this life ! if Love be Hell 
 
 Then Hate is Heaven ! Let us not go her way ! 
 
D. 
 
 DIAMONDS ! Now womanlike your eyes grow brighter 
 Flashing the sparkle back of such fair things ; 
 
 Hold both hands up ! I sent a demon-fighter 
 To wrest these wonders from barbaric kings : 
 
 j almdsh, hira, hetih ! white, and blue, 
 The naming golden sort, the black, and pink ! 
 Here be brave carcanets and cirques for you 
 
 A- blaze with beams, cut sunlike ! Did you think 
 
 Poets were poor ? Nay ! if our fancy choose 
 
 To delve old Earth, down to her deepest treasures, 
 
 Or spoil black-bearded Sultans, see ! the Muse 
 Denies her children no such airy pleasures. 
 
 And wise men wot Golconda's brilliant gem, 
 
 Tried in the fire, turns black, mere common fuel. 
 
 But these, my fairy stones, outvalue them, 
 
 Time-proof and flame-proof! Here's a beauteous jewel 
 
72 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 My minion brings the " Syamantakan ; " 
 Satrajita the King worshipped the Sun 
 
 At dawning when his rosy course began, 
 At evening when his golden road was run ; 
 
 Keciting holy Gayatri, and given 
 
 To all high deeds, a pious Prince and tried ; 
 Wherefore one morn 'tis said that Lord of Heaven, 
 
 The Kegent of the Sun, stood by his side ; 
 
 Unclasped a crest-gem from his crown, and bound it 
 On Prince Satrajita, bending in prayer, 
 
 The folk of Dwaraka, much-wondering, found it 
 At the King's throat, burning the dazzled air 
 
 With beams of glory : and the influence shed 
 From that enchanted stone caused rain to fall ; 
 
 Averted serpents, pests ; quickened the dead ; 
 Brought victories to the Eealm, fortune to all 
 
 If good men wore it ; but an evil one 
 
 Died of its lustre. Oh, you laugh ! yet listen : 
 
 Prasena, the King's brother, put it on 
 
 And rode a-hunting with that gem a-glisten 
 
DIAMONDS. 73 
 
 Over his head-cloth ; and a Lion slew- 
 Horseman and horse ; but Jambaban the Bear 
 
 Killed the strong beast, and took the spoil, and threw 
 The sun-gem to his youngest cub to wear : 
 
 For Krishna tracked their foot-prints ; pierced the wood ; 
 
 Came to the cavern black, heard the Bear mother 
 Say : " Sleep, my Babe ! now will our days be good ; 
 
 This is the Sun's great Diamond, and none other ! " 
 
 She, seeing Krishna, " Ahi ! ahi ! " roared : 
 
 Then Jambaban rushed forth, and waged fierce fight ; 
 
 But lost the Sun-stone to its doughty Lord ; 
 Who died a-bed, slain for that jewel bright. 
 
 A wild, rude, Sanskrit story ! Yes ; but wrought 
 With touches of old wisdom 'broidered in it ! 
 
 Flash ' Syamantakan ' in light of thought 
 
 And note this gleam : white knowledge, if we win it, 
 
 Is granted from One Source for joy or dolour 
 To whomso hath it, Prince, or Man, or Beast, 
 
 Yet, as each crystal by its inner colour 
 
 Stains the pure beam enkindled from the East, 
 
74 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 So shall the nature of each soul, endoubled 
 By will on mind, dye fair or dark that ray. 
 
 Oh, you may wear this Diamond, Dear ! untroubled ; 
 Look ! on your neck it glitters clear as Day ! 
 
E. 
 
 EMERALDS ! The colour, Fanny ! of the light 
 Sifted through lime-leaves on a summer-noon; 
 
 Or curl of crested wave, when foam-bells bright 
 Fringe the green furrows of the sea in June. 
 
 Such should true emeralds be ! green it is said 
 As throat of parroquet ; or spark quick-twinkled 
 
 From fire-fly's lamp ; or fresh unfolded blade 
 Of water-grass ; or lotus-leaf unwrinkled 
 
 New risen 'mid the pool, or glow which fringes 
 The gleaming amethysts in the peacock's train : 
 
 Sourindro Mohun holds " all Virtue hinges 
 On tints like these, and, if there show a stain 
 
 Yellowish or clouded, do not seek to heal 
 
 Snake-bites with such, nor carve a love-name on 
 
 them ! " 
 But mine are { Marakats ' whose hearts reveal 
 
 Greener and greener glories as you con them ; 
 
76 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 A necklace for a queen ! Not that you need it ! 
 
 One gem-mark was already on your neck 
 Set by the Power who made us as I read it 
 
 Your throat with one soft little foil to speck 
 
 For contrast's sake : as lovely dames, who brightened 
 With high-bred charms King Louis' court or Anne's, 
 
 Laid on their damask cheeks patches which heightened 
 The tender pink, just spied above their fans. 
 
 Yet, be you heedful of this lucent jewel, 
 
 Soft as the moon-ray seen through leaf-green waves 
 By those sea-maids whose love, earnest but cruel, 
 
 Draws down the sailor, dead, to their cold caves : 
 
 For wise men write that, like as diamonds hidden 
 
 Under the pillow of a sleeping bride, 
 Will make her closed lips open, all- unbidden, 
 
 To tell if ever any lips beside 
 
 Touched their ripe crimson, so the Emerald's hue 
 By reason that this is the stone of Faith 
 
 Eeports when plighted lovers prove untrue, 
 Ever so widely parted ! Mansoor saith : 
 
EMERALDS. 77 
 
 It burgeons for true love, like sprays of henna ; 
 
 But withers, at a broken vow to white, 
 Or falls in tintless fragments. Avicenna 
 
 Bade breathe upon it, at the morning light, 
 
 And, if the One belov'd were false, a mist 
 
 Would pass athwart its verdant lustre, telling 
 Of oaths forsworn ! When frail Zuleika kissed 
 -Yusuf, her Lord, in Pharaoh's palace dwelling, 
 
 Knew by his signet. Doubt you that was so ? 
 
 Yet think how stones are built in Earth's abysses ! 
 What wonderful dark secrets Gnomes must know ! 
 
 How they may hear men's whispers, sighs, and kisses, 
 
 Living in gems as Celsus held they live ! 
 
 When George the Third was throned, an emerald fell 
 
 Out from his crown ; and, did the Fates forgive ? 
 America was lost ! you know it well ! 
 
 But still you smile American by birth 
 
 Thinking that loss a gain ! Well, I'll be grave ! 
 
 Esteem the emerald noblest stone of Earth 
 When you shall hear the Queen of Sheba gave 
 
78 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 An emerald vase to Suleiman the King, 
 
 Cut from the mother-crystal flawless, shining 
 
 By life-long labour. Oh, a perfect thing, 
 
 Leek-green, playing to blue and gold ! Eeclining 
 
 Within his summer-tent Suleiman bade 
 Amru his steward bear it to the Palace : 
 
 At the first step which bearded Amru made 
 
 Down sank he dead ! The precious carven chalice 
 
 Had fall'n, in ruined beauty ; but, a wretch 
 White with the third degree of leprosy 
 
 Begging against the gate, his arm did stretch, 
 
 And caught the glowing cup, and saved ! And, see ! 
 
 Clean grew his flesh, again, as babe's new-born ! 
 
 Then the King gave command Balkis the Queen, 
 Be brought to audience on the morrow's morn ; 
 
 And, awful-eyed, he told what deeds had been : 
 
 How this was dead, that healed. But she replied, 
 Low-laughing ; " King ! It was not cut to give 
 
 Into the hands of liars ! Amru died 
 
 Touching the Gem of Truth ; thy slave will live 
 
EMERALDS. 79 
 
 " Henceforward whole, because whole was his mind ! 
 
 The mother-stone of this had virtues vast ; 
 Only true lips must touch it ! False will find 
 
 Thy Hermon honey slay therein ! 'Twill cast 
 
 " All ills from such as keep a sinless heart ! " 
 
 Then quoth King Suleiman, " Which man is he, 
 
 Save my poor Syrian who did bear the smart 
 
 Of God's hard hand yet love Him ? Let him be 
 
 " My Steward ! Let the dreadful Cup be laid 
 Within the Temple of the Lord ! " So fell it 
 
 To keeping of the Priests. When Caesar made 
 Judsea a spoil, some Roman lord did sell it 
 
 To one who kept that " furnished upper room " 
 In whose sad walls the Master sate at meat 
 
 With His disciples, 'ere the deed of doom, 
 
 And the Last Supper's bread did meekly eat ; 
 
 And the Last Supper's wine meekly did pour, 
 Saying : " These be my Body and my Blood ! 
 
 Do this in my remembrance ! " At that hour 
 The emerald cup of Sheba 'twas which stood 
 
So THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 At Christ's right hand ; and in that cup did glisten 
 The noblest wine which ever vine did shed ; 
 
 Soothing with peace the souls of all who listen, 
 Feeding the spirits of the quick and dead. 
 
 Then the Crusaders won it ! Ninety fell 
 
 Fighting round Godefroi for the beaker golden : 
 
 That Cup which kissed the mouth of Christ they tell- 
 Was wet with gore ! A Paynim of the Soldan 
 
 Lay, slain by twenty wounds, clutching the thing. 
 
 The soldiers of the Cross freighted a ship 
 Proud Genoa's swiftest caravel to bring 
 
 The prize to Italy : and no man's lip 
 
 Dared touch it, all those quiet centuries 
 It lay in San Lorenzo. Next, it came 
 
 To France, or Spain, some tell : but he, who is 
 Our Master, and the noblest English name 
 
 Of living singers holds (in Arthur's lay), 
 
 Arimathcean Joseph brought it here 
 To Glastonbury, where the black-thorn spray 
 
 Blossoms at Christmas, every mindful year ; 
 
EMERALDS. 81 
 
 Nay, that one saw it ! saw the glorious Grail ! 
 
 (Percival's Sister pious, meek, a maid) 
 Glide, with a sudden radiance, rosy, pale, 
 
 Down a long silvery moon-path, through the shade : 
 
 " Rosy," " rose-red " he sings " and, in it, beatings, 
 As though alive," and music, heavenly-tender 
 
 Better than we can blow or touch, with meetings 
 Of tones celestial ; and a burning splendour 
 
 Of Angels' feathers, fanning airs unfelt ; 
 
 And crimson samite draped ; and stars which darted 
 Hither and thither, leaving lines that melt 
 
 In sparkles on the Blue ; and dim shapes started 
 
 Forth from the Void ! Yet, only three, or two 
 Believed with Arthur ; he " who knew alway 
 
 Himself no vision, and the high God knew 
 No vision," nor Lord Christ. But still I say 
 
 The Cup was Emerald, glassy-green ! I trow 
 
 Where now it is, but dare not have it given ; 
 Could even Galahad dare ? Could Arthur ? No ! 
 
 Dear lips of Christ ! Kich wine, vintaged in Heaven ! 
 
 P 
 
L. 
 
 LIGURE ! the holy * Leshem,' now I bring, 
 Judgea's Gem, Jacynthus styled of old : 
 
 Mark how the sunbeams flood with gold this thing, 
 And how its dark heart stains th' imparted gold ! 
 
 Jacynth, the stone which has a sister-flower ; 
 
 The jewel wine-red, and the blossom, too : 
 These both were snow-white once, until the hour 
 
 When God Apollo Hyacinthus slew. 
 
 Ever since then at, at is on the blossom 
 And at, at writ upon the stone as well ; 
 
 And the life-blood from the Greek boy's hurt bosom 
 Mars both with blackness, so old legends tell. 
 
 Ligures they wore, set in an iron torque 
 At Rome, on midnights, laying Le'mures 
 
 When May's Ides came, for then the Ghosts did walk ; 
 Then were the Lemuralia. All the trees 
 
JACYNTHS. 83 
 
 Drowsed in the Court; streets sleeping still no sound! 
 
 Save if an owl screeched, or a town-dog bayed 
 Seeing the sheeted Shades pass o'er the ground 
 
 Tip-toe, a-glide, with eyes which made afraid. 
 
 But he would steal the House-master barefoot, 
 Softly, not speaking any word for dread ; 
 
 Yet snapping oft his fingers, if some root 
 
 Of vine or fig tripped him, like some one dead 
 
 At devilish tricks. But, when all mute he came 
 Safe to the fountain, there he laved his face, 
 
 And hands ; and rubbed the Ligure, whispering name 
 Of every restless Lar haunting the place. 
 
 Next in his mouth he put the nine beans black, 
 But must not glance behind, turning to go ; 
 
 While, one by one, he flung them o'er his back, 
 Muttering " his f obis meam redimo 
 
 Domum f " " With these black beans I buy content." 
 Ite, paterni Manes f " Good Souls, quit ! " 
 
 Then, nine times beat a sheet of brass, and sent 
 The Ghosts to Hades, where their fellows flit. 
 
#4 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Poor Ghosts ! Love would not fear ! Love dreads not 
 death, 
 
 Nor doom, nor darkness ! See this Jacynth brought 
 From Hedjaz ! On its gold a verse which saith 
 
 " With thee was well, Beloved ! " and, inwrought 
 
 The Cross of Christ with Islam's crescent moon ! . . . 
 
 A Christian maiden loved a Muslim youth, 
 And he loved her ; oh, heart and soul, Majnun 
 
 Loved Mariam the Nazarene. In sooth 
 
 One look wrought all ! Young Majnun did repair 
 Mosque-wards to pray ; the loud-voiced Muazan 
 
 Stood white against the blue ; in either ear 
 
 Pressing his thumb, and crying, " Ash'had-do-an 
 
 La-illatil-M-la-ho ! " " Ye Faithful ! know 
 There is no God but God ! " Eya ul-as-salaat 
 
 " Quicken your steps to pray ! " As-sal-la-to 
 Khyrun min an-naum, " Better, Believers ! that 
 
 Ye pray than sleep ! " This cry was in his ears, 
 The faith of Allah in his heart firm kept ; 
 
 When Mariam passed and glanced : and lo ! the years 
 Found their crowned instant : Love, full-plumed, up 
 leapt ! 
 
JACYNTHS. 85 
 
 Beautiful was she as upon its stalk 
 
 The tulip newly nodding ; heavenly-sweet 
 
 The music of her voice ; when she did walk 
 
 The glad grass seemed to kiss her light fine feet ! 
 
 Face, form, as 'twere a Houri in the house ; 
 
 Eyes so divinely lustrous that their splendour 
 Filled every heart with worship ; and her brows 
 
 Drawn like black bows over the eyelids tender, 
 
 And shadowy lashes ; and her teeth of pearl 
 Between the rose-leaf lips ; and rounded arms, 
 
 And high white bosoms ! Such a Christian Girl 
 The Prophet had forgotten for her charms 
 
 Amina and Khadidja ! So they loved, 
 Body and soul and blood blended to one 
 
 In burning passion ; and this passion proved 
 Sorrow, as always. Majnim was Said's son 
 
 Sheykh of the Gate, a hot Believer : she 
 
 Sole child of Nicolas the Merchant. Never 
 
 Dared they to meet if night's complicity 
 
 Veiled not their trembling joys. Cruel ones ever 
 
86 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Watched them, incensed an Infidel's pale face 
 
 Should draw an Islamite with Sorcery ; 
 Incensed a Maid of Christ should yield her place 
 
 'Mid saints, a Muslim's Light o' Love to be. 
 
 But, through the jealous lattice of her bower 
 Sometimes he took the comfort of her eyes 
 
 And by the lute's low voice, or some dropped flower 
 Knew it was well with her, or otherwise. 
 
 For many waters shall not overflow, 
 
 Nor sharpened daggers daunt, nor angry faces 
 
 Affright, nor bitter doctrines check, nor woe 
 Change a true love, which in the holy places 
 
 Kneels nearest God. Yet, on our little star 
 Purged must it be by Sorrow's fellowship ; 
 
 And pale the visages of lovers are 
 
 With earthly griefs, when happy lip meets lip 
 
 In those Elysian meads where Death is dead. 
 
 So, on this parted pair, and on their city 
 Fell evil times ; the Plague, with footsteps red 
 
 Strode through the Land, slaying sans pause or 
 pity 
 
JACYNTHS. 87 
 
 Wife, husband, youth and age. A strong man stood 
 One moment whole, the next, there crept a thrill, 
 
 Like the cold breath of Azrael, through his blood ; 
 
 His eyes dimmed, breath came quick, body grew 
 chill ; 
 
 Spasms rent his frame ; his poisoned flesh waxed white 
 With blotches ; soon he sank in mortal pain ; 
 
 Save where, after deep trance, Nature's kind might 
 Flung the taint forth : then quick he rose again. 
 
 Thus, on the self-same day, the Pestilence 
 
 Smote these fair lovers, fated bitterly. 
 Sighed Majnun, 'mid his friends : " Now go I hence, 
 
 Never again my Lady's face to see ! 
 
 " Never again in this world ! Nay and worse ! 
 
 Never in that beyond ; for she will be 
 Where Christians are. Sing not another verse 
 
 Of the Death-Sura ! Pray no prayers for me 
 
 " To Allah ! If a Mussulman I die 
 
 I shall gain Paradise, but not with her; 
 Christ ! take me where she goes ! Lord Isa, I 
 
 Am Nazarene, as Mariam ! " The stir 
 
: THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Of Mollahs rending robes, and curses bitter 
 Of angry kin, his earnest accents drown ; 
 
 In a waste place the bearers of his litter 
 Unburied flung that outcast's body down. 
 
 But while for Mariana's sake Majnun foreswore 
 Friends, Faith, and Paradise, his lady lay 
 
 Sick as to death not knowing how they bore 
 Her chosen forth and all that piteous day 
 
 " Majnun ! " she sighed, " Oh, Majnun, Pearl of Lovers ! 
 
 Death cometh, and we shall not meet again ! 
 Nevermore, my Soul's Life ! the black grave covers 
 
 Thy poor white Dove, whose feathers thou wert fain 
 
 " Ofttimes to smooth and kiss ; and, woe is me ! 
 Whither I go there canst thou never come ; 
 
 For thou art of the Prophet's tribes ; and we 
 Another people, with another home 
 
 " Beyond this world. But, see now, Jesu tender ! 
 
 In all thy Father's Houses which would give 
 Best to my soul ? what untold joy and splendour 
 
 Could comfort Mariam, if she might not live 
 
JACYNTHS. 89 
 
 " Forever, and forever, and forever 
 
 With Majnun, be that Heaven, or be it Hell ? 
 If he may come where Thou art never never 
 
 Oh, Christ, my Lord ! then let me go to dwell 
 
 " In what place for his peace Allah is keeping ! " 
 And those around her bed chided the Maid, 
 
 Deeming she raved ; but dreamlike, as if sleeping, 
 Soft went she on, and this in whispers said : 
 
 " Dear God, forgive ! if pardon for such sin 
 Hath been or can be ; still, I cannot take 
 
 A path beyond the tomb he walks not in, 
 
 A heaven he will not share. Therefore, I make 
 
 " Sad choice, but settled : letting go Thy love 
 Ah, gentle Christ ! lest I lose his, and sit 
 
 Amid Thine angels in the bliss above 
 
 Winning Thy blessed peace, and hating it 
 
 " For lack of Majnun. Is it Heaven's command 
 None shall attain it, save at thy fair feet ? 
 
 Then he will not attain ! But I must stand 
 Beside Majnun before the judgment-seat ! 
 
QO THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Oh, any Death save parting ! any doom 
 
 Except what sunders us ! Forgive, dread Lord ! 
 
 Friends, is it evening ? round me swims the room ! 
 Listen ! bury sad Mariam in the yard 
 
 " Where lie the Muslims of our quarter. Yea ! 
 
 I bid ye list I, who was Nazarene 
 All my true maiden years, die here to-day 
 
 A Mussulman! ! What his faith hath been 
 
 " That same is mine ! hear me ! I testify 
 
 There is no God but Allah, and " They smote 
 
 The little trembling lips, and drove that cry 
 Of tender heresy back in her throat, 
 
 Whose milky beauty throbbed and hushed. And, then, 
 Scorning the renegade, they tore the Cross 
 
 From her cold breast, and bade the " bearing-men " 
 In that waste spot her shamed body toss 
 
 Where Maj nun's lay. So, thus it was beheld, 
 When the Moon rose upon the dismal plain, 
 
 The jackals, prowling 'mid the corpses, yelled 
 And fled, to see a dead man rise again; 
 
JACYNTHS. 91 
 
 For Majnun rose, healed by his trance ; and spied 
 Death-pale, yet breathing, moving, beautiful, 
 
 Mariam his lady, Mariam at his side ; 
 
 Mariam ! and life not finished ! Dutiful 
 
 With tenderest lips he touched her face, her head ; 
 
 Warmed with his breast her bosom ; chafed her feet 
 Full-softly, like two fair white birds, half-dead ; 
 
 And spake her name, murmuring such love-words sweet 
 
 That through the numbed sense to the drowsy heart 
 Stole their awakening music, and she lifted 
 
 Her silken lids, and gazed and with glad start 
 Flew to his neck. Oh, when were lovers gifted 
 
 With such a splendid moment ? For some space 
 Hung they together, feeding life with kisses, 
 
 Each kiss a cordial then they left that place 
 
 With faint rejoicing steps. And what long blisses 
 
 Were theirs for many years verse cannot tell. 
 
 Dear ! do you like my Jacynth for its story ? 
 Yet, where, at Death, those loving souls did dwell 
 
 Who knows ? God's many names may have one glory ! 
 
A. 
 
 " WHAT ! A gold coin amid these jewelled treasures ! 
 
 Why send me such a relic ? " so you say 
 " Good to enhance some antiquary's pleasures ; 
 
 Stamped for dead people, in a buried day ! " 
 
 True, now, but look a little ! If one ponder 
 The legend of this piece, its gold may shine 
 
 With lustre leaving dull the gems of wonder 
 Which I did lay in those dear hands of thine. 
 
 An Aureus of the Eoman Empire see ! 
 
 And, on its face, in plain imperial letters, 
 MARCUS AUEELIUS ANTONINUS He 
 
 Was Master of our earth. Rome's iron fetters, 
 
 Linked over lands and seas, were held by him, 
 The awful purple of the Cgesars wearing ; 
 
 And triumph- crowned ! for, mark, along the rim 
 DEVICTIS MARCOMANNIS. He was bearing 
 
AN AUREUS. 93 
 
 That year Pannonian laurels (one six eight 
 
 In era of our Lord). Gaze on the face 
 Pictured from one most noble, wise, and great, 
 
 First of his age, and foremost of his race. 
 
 Consider ! Pious souls have been, but he 
 
 Feared Heaven, worshipped himself! And just have 
 
 been ; 
 But he, higher than Law, bowed down to be 
 
 Law's officer ! Well-taught, in books deep-seen, 
 
 Daily he sate at school ! Master of war, 
 
 Bloodshed he stayed ; pitied his vanquished foes ; 
 
 Pardoned his haters ! Set far off, a Star 
 
 Of sovereignty, he ranked himself with those 
 
 Born to serve Man ! Enriched with all the East, 
 With all the West ; Lord of the wealth of Borne ; 
 
 He lay on earth, drank from the stream, made feast 
 Of fruits and roots ! Yet, to rear porch and dome 
 
 Stately at Athens, splendid on old Nile ; 
 
 To dower learning, scatter truth, spread good ; 
 To help the thoughts which help mankind meanwhile 
 
 For those he poured his sesterces in flood ! 
 
94 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Majestic, melancholy, lofty, mild ; 
 
 Holier than saints, than sages more enrapt ; 
 One hour listening to Fronto like a child, 
 
 The next, in royal paludamentum lapped 
 
 Governing the world ! Ah, measure what a man ! 
 
 White in an age dark and unbeautiful : 
 Highest, yet humblest : since the kings began 
 
 No heart so kingly, large, and dutiful. 
 
 Eegard him ! does my Emperor pleasure you ? 
 
 Being but a man I only know that here 
 If we shall set apart some three or two 
 
 The flower of humankind blooms bright and dear. 
 
 This is the best we are ! " Yerissimus " 
 
 Hadrian did style him ! When the Senate named 
 
 Marcus sole Cassar, spake he : " Seat with us 
 My Lucius Verus also ; I were blamed 
 
 " Keeping no place upon his Father's throne 
 
 Whose Father loved me." When the eagles fled 
 
 Before the Marcomanni, he alone 
 
 Loathing red war the reeling legions led 
 
AN AUREUS. 95 
 
 To victory. At his life too pure to pleaso 
 Avidius Cassius aimed, joining foul hands 
 
 With Cesar's beauteous Empress : foiling these 
 The loving peoples and the loyal bands 
 
 Slew that arch rebel, sent his severed head 
 A tribute to the Court ; but Marcus sighed 
 
 Seeing the bloody gift ; and, musing, said : 
 " Happier I were to pardon ! " when he spied 
 
 The accusing list, setting in deadly row 
 
 Names of the plotters, royally he rends 
 The scroll to shreds ; quoth he : " Let me not know 
 
 Mine enemies, till I have made them friends ! " 
 
 And as he lived, so died he ; grand and meek, 
 
 Maintaining Antonine's sublimity, 
 Who, for last watchword, hardly strong to speak, 
 
 Gave the centurion " Equanimity." 
 
 Hear Marcus teach : " If thou with Gods would'st dwell, 
 Keep a contented mind ; follow that guide 
 
 Whom Jove hath lodged within thy breast to tell 
 His will, and lead thee to the better side. 
 
96 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Either the Universe is Chaos, Chance ; 
 
 Or else the Universe is Order, Law ; 
 If that die ! and let pass the drunken dance ; 
 
 If this live and rejoice, in Love and Awe. 
 
 " Offer that inner rule of Heaven's high Lord 
 A strong soul ripened by the life below ; 
 
 A soldier at his post waiting the word ; 
 A heart too grateful to be loath to go. 
 
 " All which befitteth thee, befitteth me, 
 
 Thou Scheme of God ! What to thee cometh right 
 To me comes right : if life or death it be 
 
 So let it be ; good is it in my sight, 
 
 " If good in Jove's ! Oh Mother Earth ! I take 
 My rest with thee, right gladly lying down ; 
 
 What ! shall the poets praise Athens, and make 
 Songs to the City of the Violet Crown, 
 
 " And none praise Jove's great City, where we spent 
 Our span of years ? J Twas sweet therein to dwell ; 
 
 Yet being bid to quit, go well content ! 
 No tyrant orders ; no harsh laws compel ! 
 
AN AUREUS. 97 
 
 " Who opened thee the City-gates, now closes ; 
 
 Who named thee freeman, sends thee off the wall : 
 Depart obedient ! Is there one supposes 
 
 The Ruler of the Rulers knows not all ? 
 
 " Depart submissive, glad ! Die unrepining ! 
 
 There is a Greater guardeth thee than thou, 
 Dearer than to thyself thy life's combining 
 
 Was to the Cosmos ; death is better now ! " 
 
 Was he not perfect ? Will you scorn to wear 
 
 His aureus 'mid the gems ? Yet lurking wonders 
 
 Perplex male minds, studying your strange sex, Dear ! 
 For gazing on his countenance one ponders 
 
 That grudge Faustina bore him. She his wife 
 
 Sharing the Purple, Lady of his glory, 
 Stained the imperial honours of his life 
 
 With shameful passions. Nay, I spare the story! 
 
 They knew it to the lowest Roman slave : 
 
 Living he would not punish ; dead he made her 
 
 Obsequies splendid ; stateliest mourning gave, 
 And in a glorious milk-white tomb he laid her. 
 
98 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Ah, you will wear ! You sternly judge Faustine ! 
 
 Yet one point more : his sword he whetted sharp, 
 To smite the followers of the Nazarene ; 
 
 Hated the Christians, and burned Polycarp 
 
 For Home's great sake ! You lay it by again ! 
 
 But, this at best we are ; doubtless, 'tis pity 
 He could not love our gentle Christ, nor win 
 
 One woman's breast. Still, when he died, his City 
 
 Voted him God ; and every citizen 
 
 Bought bronzes of him, built them shrines at home ; 
 Made him their household Lar, their Man of men ; 
 
 Faustina's fool, Christ's foe, crowned saint of Eome ! 
 
I. 
 
 SEE now ! an Ivory Casket for your treasures, 
 Cut from a tusk some lord of Elephants 
 
 Yielded, besieged amid his forest-pleasures, 
 By circling foes. The creamy surface vaunts 
 
 Turquoise, in blue stars set, with lolite, 
 
 That violet-tinted gem which somewhile hides 
 
 In Indian hills. Azures and purples bright 
 Play daintily across its sparkling sides ! 
 
 And, look ! the Casket bears so rich a labour 
 Of chiselled work, and stones, it may have been 
 
 By day the white delight, at night the neighbour 
 Of the soft slumbers of some Hindoo Queen. 
 
 It may be wrought who knows ? of ivory 
 Taken from tooth of Raja Megh Koomar. 
 
 A famous Prince of Magadha was he, 
 Gentle in peace, and generous in war, 
 
ioo THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 An elephant, in his last life but one, 
 
 'Tis the Jain story for a woodland- fire 
 Brake forth, consuming trees and grass. Undone 
 
 The forest-creatures died. Wider and higher 
 
 The red tongues raged ; whereat this kingly beast 
 Betook himself for flight ; when from the reeds 
 
 A striped bush-mouse, of all things last and least, 
 Leaped forth, and ran between his feet, and pleads 
 
 To Raja Megh : t( Ahi ! great Prince ! permit 
 
 I take asylum from this dreadful flame 
 Betwixt thy mighty legs ! " Megh looked on it : 
 
 " Small art thou ! " quotha "yet is life the same 
 
 " Brother ! for thee as me. Stay where thou art ! 
 
 I never spurned aught living, nor shall now ; 
 Sit close and fear not ; I will not depart ! " 
 
 Therewith he faced the fire, wielding a bough 
 
 Of thick-leaved Sal, to beat the heat away ; 
 
 Which curled and hissed, and scorched, blistering one 
 
 limb 
 And all his length of trunk, so sore they say 
 
 Megh died ere night j but saved the mouse. And him 
 
10 LITE AND IVOP.Y. IQI 
 
 In the next life the just Gods made a king. 
 
 Mark, too, your casket's milky ^i3es, : how' full' * * 
 Of imagery ! Here's a subtle thing 
 
 A banyan-tree, whereat, with steadfast pull, 
 
 Toils a tusked Elephant to lay it low ; 
 
 And 'mongst the dropping branches two which bear 
 A long-tailed clinging monkey, feeding so 
 
 On the red figs, he has no eyes to fear 
 
 Those two rats, one so black, and one so white, 
 Which nibble at the branches : but beneath 
 
 A pit gapes, where you see the lurid light 
 
 Of snake-shapes twisting, and grim signs of death. 
 
 Shall I interpret ? Life's the banyan tree ; 
 
 Which Death, the elephant, in dust would lay; 
 And the poor foolish ape is Man ; and, see ! 
 
 This black rat is the Night, the white the Day, 
 
 Which ever gnaw, in turn, at life's thin branches 
 Whereto man clings ; till, blind with sense and sin, 
 
 Fat with world's figs, down rolls he to those trenches 
 Dug by Death's feet, with serpents hid therein. 
 
; 'lE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 Bi)t;lxer,(x's a fairer legend carved \ A balance 
 Wueiein ; they weiglva Prince against a Dove; 
 
 An Eagle looking on I the Eagle's talons 
 Bloody ; the Prince's face alight with love I 
 
 Shall I interpret ? Eaja Sagaras 
 
 This is ; for kindly heart of large renown : 
 
 One morning, when in full Divan he was, 
 
 A white dove through the lattice fluttered down, 
 
 Her silver plumage pink with blood, and ruffled ; 
 
 And, following on fierce wings, an Eagle. She, 
 Nigh dead with fear, her fainting pinions muffled 
 
 In the King's breast-cloth, seeking sanctuary 
 
 Close to his heart. Then screamed the cruel bird 
 " Give me my prey, just King I " But Sagaras 
 
 Fondling the Dove, said : " Never is it heard 
 A prince repelled his suppliant \ " Hot as brass 
 
 Glared the great Eagle's eyes while it did cry : 
 " I conjure thee by justice \ She is mine I 
 
 We drave her from the wood, my mate and I, 
 We hunger I give the pigeon's meat or thine I " 
 
IOLITE AND IVORY. 103 
 
 " Thou hast thy right," answered the King, " but I 
 The right to ransom ; bring me scales, and weigh 
 
 My flesh against this dove's." So, fearlessly 
 Drew he a sword, and lopped his hand away. 
 
 The bird weighed more ! More of his bleeding flesh 
 Shore that kind Prince ; yet still mounted the scale ! 
 
 Add what he would, heaping fresh gifts on fresh, 
 The Dove proves aye the heavier ! To prevail 
 
 Into the balance then himself he laid, 
 
 Pallid and fainting, " for " quoth he, " a King 
 
 Were liever dead, and eagle's food, than made 
 A shame through ages, doing such a thing ! " 
 
 Thereat the legend runs the Drums of Heaven 
 Beat tender music, and strange blossoms rained 
 
 Out of the sky ; and from those oceans seven, 
 
 Which ring our Earth, came Spirits of Bliss, constrained 
 
 By such sweet deed to show themselves, and praise 
 
 My Raja carven here : also the Dove 
 Shook off her feathers, and great Uma was 
 
 Shiva's fair Queen, Mother of Light and Love ! 
 
104 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And the black Eagle into Dharma turned 
 The God of Justice ; and the Raja's hurts 
 
 Were healed ; and all the hearts of people burned 
 With worship ! So had Mercy her deserts. . . 
 
 Another sculptured side ! A mango-tree 
 Laden with fruit : one who a hatchet bears 
 
 Of black hue ; one breaking a branchlet, see ! : 
 Blue-visaged ; while a third, red-featured, tears 
 
 Raw mangoes down : a fourth sits in the leaves 
 Eating the ripest ; he is yellow : five 
 
 Is this light-tinted Eishi who receives 
 
 The fallen fruit, and passes. Shall I give 
 
 Interpretation ? 'Tis a parable 
 
 Of mortals using life and living things ; 
 
 A Hindoo Artist's fable ; he would tell 
 
 By colours who is wise, and which man brings 
 
 Shame on himself and sorrow to his kind. 
 
 Black, with vile selfishness, is he that goes, 
 To hew the tree for mangoes to his mind ; 
 
 Conquerors and criminals are such as those. 
 
IOLITE AND IVORY. 105 
 
 And not quite black but blue this egotist 
 Who breaks a branch to reach some rosy fruit ; 
 
 Such be seducers, profligates ; I wist 
 
 Small thought have they of the sad withered shoot ! 
 
 A little fairer- tinted red is he 
 
 Who will not harm branchlet or trunk ; yet mounts 
 Into the thickest harvest of the tree, 
 
 Plucking what comes : and this man yellow 
 counts 
 
 Better complexion still, who only takes 
 
 The ripe fruits, made for eating. But the best 
 
 Behold him in that patient saint who makes 
 The fallen ones suffice ! His hues attest 
 
 (White or wheat-coloured) that the carver meant him 
 The sweet contented soul who seeks small share 
 
 Gratefully, and goes by : since Heaven hath sent him 
 To serve and work, not feast and wanton here. 
 
 Ah ! the last panel ! Asia's secrets those, 
 
 Cut with proud patience on the creamy tooth ! 
 
 Here you divine a form serene which shows 
 
 Smooth perfect limbs, and glorious grace of youth ; 
 
io6 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 One side all male, and one all tender woman ; 
 
 The right-half God, but Goddess all the left ; 
 With braided hair, full bosoms, beauties human : 
 
 Over its head a bat, and water-eft ; 
 
 Beneath, a climbing plant shoots three-fold leaves, 
 With pale blue flowerets. Tis our Hindoo's way 
 
 To teach how " Maya's " subtle art deceives 
 By double sexes, forms of things which play 
 
 In various disguise of " He " and " She," 
 
 Of serpent, beast, and bird ; of moving lives, 
 
 And lives not moving. " All is phantasy ! 
 There is one Being only ! " this he strives 
 
 To carve upon the casket, showing us 
 Ardhanarishwara female and male 
 
 Who hath both natures ; and the bat proves thus 
 That mouse and bird unite, as skin and scale 
 
 Meet in the eft. The plant with triple leaf 
 Ah, that's a marvel of our Indian jungle ! 
 
 Dull botanists who flout the sweet belief 
 
 That Dryads live, and with harsh Latin bungle 
 
IOLITE AND IVORY. 107 
 
 Tree use and beauty those have never told 
 
 Half ardently Desmodium's miracle ! 
 If you should watch its buds of blue and gold 
 
 And light green leaflets, you would see them tell 
 
 Minute by minute the day-watches all, 
 
 And all the hours of night, ever alert ; 
 One petiole rising while the others fall ; 
 
 A herb which lives and moves, and doth assert 
 
 A soul of sentience overpassing bounds 
 
 Set for the leafy world. Have we not seen 
 
 In sunny Singhalesian garden-grounds, 
 
 The grasses shrink where our quick steps had been, 
 
 Modest and timid as a maid that blushes, 
 
 But is not to be touched ? Flowers, too, there be 
 
 Which sparkle flame in opening ; one that flushes 
 Scarlet, at sunset only. Briefly, he 
 
 Our Hindoo thinks men, creatures, trees all one; 
 
 He calls Desmodium a mystic name. 
 But close the Casket's lid ! I were undone 
 
 If this should weary you. Now shines the flame 
 
D. 
 
 OF Dawn- stone ! rare Sandastros ! piedra pur a ! 
 
 My servants bring this gem from Yucatan : 
 See ! in one light 'tis ruddy like Aurora, 
 
 And in another pallid gold. . . . A man 
 
 Died, save for this ! Ah, but so long ago 
 
 You need not sigh ; yet, if you ask the story, 
 
 Believe that every jewel here below 
 
 Hath some Familiar dwelling in its glory. 
 
 How shall we question now ? Mark, on the gem, 
 Strange signs incised Mexican symbols graved 
 
 By Montezuma's priests the speech of them 
 
 Was Aztec : let the stone be three times waved, 
 
 And say, in ancient Aztec phrase, demurely, 
 
 " Sprite of the Jewel, speak ! whence springest thou ? 
 
 What is thy tale ? " Oh, it will answer, surely ! 
 Behold ! a little brown-eyed damsel now 
 
DA WN-STONE. 109 
 
 Appears, in feathered garb, and plaited tresses, 
 As the soft Indians used when Cortez came ! 
 
 Listen ! with low obeisance she addresses 
 The mistress of the stone : 
 
 " My wearer's name 
 
 " Was young Ayani daughter to the priest 
 
 Of Tezicatlepotchli, God of day ; 
 In Anahuac, at the yearly feast, 
 
 The fairest captive youth they chose, to lay 
 
 " Bound, on the Blood-Kock of the Pointed Hill 
 The Teo-calli for thus was our Law : 
 
 The people beat the snake-drums, and blew shrill 
 
 Their pipes of bone, whilst the Chief-Priest did draw 
 
 " His knife of splintered itztli through the flesh 
 Cutting from East to West ; and so did take 
 
 The throbbing heart away, and burn it fresh 
 Upon the Sun-God's altar. But to make 
 
 " Costlier that noble offering to Heaven, 
 
 For twelve glad moons before the day of doom 
 
 Honour and love to the fair boy were given ; 
 They built him in the Golden House a room 
 
I io THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Like a God's chamber, gay with many a thing 
 Of grace and ornament ; and richly laid 
 
 With cougar-skins and mats : where slaves did bring 
 Each eve baskets of grapes, and cakes new-made, 
 
 " With cactus-wine and honey, spreading soft 
 His bed for love and sleep ; since always there 
 
 Tender ones waited, waving high aloft 
 
 Fans of pied feathers, that the fragrant air 
 
 " Might kiss his brow and cheeks. And lovely gardens 
 Opened beyond the chamber, where there grew 
 
 All the fair fruits our southern summer hardens, 
 Stately great trees, and blooms of every hue. 
 
 " And there would lie Ayani, with her lover, 
 For she was noblest, and our law was this ; 
 
 That till those twelve good moons were past and over- 
 The sweetest lips, the proudest breasts were his, 
 
 " The best the Land could give. Mine was the jewel 
 Her throat bore when its dusky beauty spread 
 
 In those swift hours of joy, tender and cruel, 
 A pillow for his happy, fated head. 
 
DAWN-STONE. m 
 
 " There would Ayani lie, making delight 
 
 For him whose heart must smoke upon the stone : 
 
 Girding with buds of river-roses white 
 
 That breast the flint must open, flesh and bone ! 
 
 " And she would sing our ancient temple-song 
 Sad and bewitching saying Life is this : 
 
 A dream whose vague delight lasts never long; 
 A swift night swallowing up brief day of bliss : 
 
 " Or, with low kissing-cry would call away 
 
 The humming birds, that quivered at the blooms, 
 
 To nestle in her neck and hands, and lay 
 The honey-quest aside, trilling their plumes 
 
 " To please the pair. This glory of my gem, 
 Which trembles with the colours of the Morn, 
 
 Hath no such radiance as the tints of them 
 Winged jewels of their Garden. One was borne 
 
 " On pinions of pale green, melting to black 
 By bronze and russet passages, its head 
 
 Alight with blazing ruby, and its back 
 
 Afire with flashing sapphire. Some word said 
 
H2 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Would bring that tiny splendour, glittering, 
 Forth from the trumpet-blossom's perfumed cup, 
 
 To brood amid Ayani's hair, each wing 
 Brilliantly spread, and the crest lifted up 
 
 " A tongue of flickering flame. And one bird dressed 
 All silver and soft blues, with tufts of silk 
 
 At each white flank would fly fond to her breast, 
 And hang between its hills of tinted milk, 
 
 " Darting in play his bill's black slender curve, 
 Now this side and now that, as if what grew 
 
 On those hill-tops were buds enough to serve 
 For flowers and nectar. And another flew 
 
 " Whene'er Ayani summoned to her lip, 
 
 A little starry speck whence keen beams gleamed 
 
 Of gold and purple, in bright fellowship 
 
 With dark green gorget, and a neck that seemed 
 
 " Plumaged from rainbows. ' Feed ! my Rose-ball, Feed ! ? 
 
 The girl would murmur, and the bird would poise 
 His bright enamelled breast, and blossomy head 
 
 Before her open laughing mouth, with noise 
 
DAWN-STONE. 113 
 
 " Of whirring wings ; plunging the amethyst 
 Of his small frontlet, and his gold-mailed neck 
 
 Into that rosy hollow sweet, I wist, 
 As any rose's heart and feign to suck 
 
 " Ayani's honey ! Yet another minion 
 
 Corseletted all in crimson scales, and thighed 
 
 With topaz and with turquoise ; either pinion 
 
 Splashed with red gilding, and each shoulder dyed 
 
 "Blood-purple he would perch upon her ear, 
 Sit in its pearly cavern ; you had thought 
 
 A live fire-opal from Papantla there 
 
 Burgeoned and blazed ! With other cries she brought 
 
 " Other fair woodland creatures ; lizards plated 
 With grey and amber armour ; mottled snakes 
 
 Pink-mouthed and sheeny ; great-eyed musk-deer, sated 
 With browsing flowers. The jacamar, who makes 
 
 " A nest in reeds, left its red eggs to go 
 
 Where the girl called ; the grunting peccaries 
 
 Gazed at her through the aloes ; white as snow 
 The egrets clustered round her. He that lies 
 
ii4 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " Couched in the canes, a terror of the wood, 
 
 The clouded jaguar, when Ayani sung 
 Dropped the red fragments from his jaws, and stood 
 
 At the brake's edge to hear. Slowly unclung 
 
 " His coils the anaconda from the limb 
 
 Where he lay knotted ; and, all spell -bound, drew 
 His massive freckled folds through twilights dim 
 
 Of the deep forest, hastening near to view 
 
 " That soft-voiced woman. All along the leaves 
 Of the Eoyal lilies, where their lush growth lies 
 
 Crowning with green and red the river- waves, 
 The plovers raced to greet her. Butterflies 
 
 " Azure and silver-dappled, black and gold 
 
 Drew towards her as they draw to some bright blossom ; 
 
 Ah, for a jewelled queen ! 'twas to behold 
 Ayani with the sun-birds in her bosom, 
 
 " And those gay fluttering fulgencies alight 
 
 On her dark hair ! She had such charm of love 
 
 'Twould stay the nursing toucan in her flight, 
 And fetch the hungry condor from above 
 
DAWN-STONE. 115 
 
 " To circle nigh : the clavin singing sweet 
 Beyond all warblers and four-handed folk, 
 
 Bonnetted, furred, hook-tailed, all to her feet 
 Crept wooingly, and took the gentle yoke, 
 
 " In joy and peace, of young Ayani. So 
 Flew the delicious days, till that day came, 
 
 The last of love. < Honey of life ! Dost know ? ' 
 The captive said : ( to-morrow morn the flame 
 
 " < Will eat the heart which so adores thee ? ' ' Dear ! ' 
 The Girl made answer : ' I was set to soothe 
 
 Thy dying times, not love thee : yet, this year 
 Hath made our spirits one ! Ayani's youth, 
 
 " c Ayani's mirth and comfort go with thee ! 
 
 Alas, the hateful stone ! the cruel knife ! 
 The awful God ! But, if this offering be, 
 
 How shall I live alone, who am thy wife, 
 
 " c Great with thy child ? Look now ! 'tis dark ! array 
 thee 
 
 In my bark mantle ; bind around thy waist 
 My belt of feathers. Fly ! If any stay thee, 
 
 This jewel is the sign ! Speak nothing ! Haste ! 
 
ii6 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 " ' Show them my stone, and pass ! Hide in the wood ! 
 
 Less bitter are the beasts than men who pray ! ' 
 Vainly he clung and kissed ; vainly withstood, 
 
 She thrust him forth to save him. When 'twas day 
 
 " They found him fled. Then, all the angry folk 
 Cried death against Ayani, who had cheated 
 
 Great Tezicatlepotchli of his smoke 
 
 Of sacrifice. But she their spite defeated ; 
 
 " For, lying bound, she summoned from the brake, 
 By some low word her woodland creatures knew, 
 
 And understood a slender ribboned snake 
 
 Which coiled, obedient, round her wrist, and drew 
 
 " One ruby blood-drop, with right-loving tooth. 
 
 So did Ayani win escape. My gem 
 
 Hath this for story ! " 
 
 If thy tale be truth, 
 
 Sprite of the Stone ! who would not pity them ? 
 
E. 
 
 EUCLASE ! and Essonite ! the last and rarest 
 With Evening Emerald, surnamed Peridot ! 
 
 Now will fair ladies envy you, my Dearest, 
 For this full Jewel-Casket you have got ! 
 
 Euclase ! Not many an eye hath viewed the wonder ! 
 
 A secret of Brazilian streams, which bring 
 Once in twelve moons to sight the schist- drifts under 
 
 The tender glories of this subtle thing. 
 
 Sometimes a honey-yellow, sometimes green 
 
 As leaves against the light, then shot with flakes 
 
 Of pale sea-blue, but all three Colours seen 
 As Nature wills ; for the keen crystal takes 
 
 No touch of wheel. Its fragile charms forbid 
 A goldsmith's labour ; when the Maker made 
 
 Euclase, " Let there lie, in My Rivers hid, 
 
 " One perfect thing man shall not mar ! " He said. 
 
n8 THE CASKET OF GEMS. 
 
 And Essonite styled " stone of Cinnamon " 
 The garnet Greek and Tuscan used to grave 
 
 With beauty, best and sweetest under sun, 
 Faces of Gods, and Heroes great and brave ! 
 
 Gold, fired with crimson beams, so glows this gem, 
 Cut to a beetle's shape, the sacred Scarab 
 
 Of dead Egyptians. Note the signs of them 
 Quaint hieroglyphs ! Some CEthiop or Arab 
 
 Wore this in life and death ; and no man knows 
 
 His name or deeds ! But your name men shall know 
 
 Reading these jewelled letters which compose 
 Its gentle music ; for my verse will go 
 
 Glad with the light of Love and you to days 
 When better poets live, and Life, made strong 
 
 By sheaves of our sad sowing-time shall praise 
 Ladies we sang, and graces of our song. 
 
 Last comes my Peridot, the stone of Eve, 
 Tinted as evening skies are when their blue 
 
 Blends with the gold and grey, till we believe 
 Asphodel valleys open, and 'tis true 
 
EUCLASE AND ESSONITE. 119 
 
 That blessed spirits tread green meads in Heaven. 
 
 This is the " precious olivine " men trace 
 In cliffs of Nile ; and sometimes it is* riven 
 
 From those black massy bolts hurled out of space 
 
 Upon our Earth. Whence come they ? Birds of wonder, 
 
 Flying on fearful pinions from the Vast 
 Wherein all swims ; lighting, mid flame and thunder, 
 
 In the scorched fields. The Indian blacksmith's blast 
 
 Forges a sword therefrom of splendid water : 
 I pluck a jewel, Dear ! for Love can bring 
 
 Gladness from grief, high hope from death and slaughter, 
 Light out of Darkness, good from everything ! 
 
October, 
 
 (Written in description of a picture painted by her.) 
 
 A BOLD brunette she is, radiant with mirth, 
 Who comes a-tripping over corn-fields cropped ; 
 Fruits and blown roses from her full arms dropped, 
 
 Carpet her feet along the gladdened earth. 
 
 And on her brow glitters a careless crown 
 Of bronzed oak, and apple-leaves, and vine ; 
 And russet-nuts and country berries twine 
 
 About her gleaming shoulders and loose gown. 
 
 Like grapes at vintage, where the ripe wine glows, 
 Glows so her sweet cheek, summer-touched but fair; 
 And, like grape-tendrils, all her wealth of hair, 
 
 Gold on a ground of brown, nods as she goes : 
 
 Grapes too, a-spirt, her brimming fingers bear 
 A dainty wine-press, pouring wet and warm 
 The crimson river over wrist and arm, 
 
 And on her lips adding no crimson there ! 
 
124 IN MY LADTS PRAISE. 
 
 Ah ! splendid autumn hours fly not so fast ! 
 
 Let this rich Lady long with us delay ; 
 
 The sunset makes the sun so wished-for stay ! 
 Of three sweet months the loveliest and the last ! 
 
 But after laughter ever follows grief, 
 
 And Pleasure's sunshine brings its shadow Pain ; 
 
 Even now begins the dreary time again, 
 The first dull patter of the first dead leaf. 
 
 2Det>ication of a Dolume of ^Translations* 
 
 FLOWERS from Greek gardens, Fannie ! old turned new, 
 
 Doric, ^Eolic, Attic gathered here : 
 You made the pleasant sunshine where they grew ; 
 
 Such as the growth is, have the blossoms, Dear ! 
 
ZTo "Stella." 
 
 SWEET Planet ! strangely seen, suddenly loved 
 
 At the first eye-glance of our midnight meeting ! 
 I look back on the ways whereby I moved 
 
 To this fair fate, my lonely life completing : 
 I did not seek you, Dear ! no vision tender 
 
 Bade me expect you by my rayless road ! 
 There was no dreamy dawning of the splendour 
 
 Your white light shed ! no morning-grey that showed 
 Where my Star waited under life's horizon 
 
 Ah, far, pure, silvery Star ! set not again ! 
 Better no lamp to fix the sailor s eyes on, 
 
 Than one brief beam cast on the cold dark main ! 
 
H Duet 
 
 HE: 
 
 " AH ! if you knew ! if I dared to discover 
 
 Half that my heart feels to-day : 
 If there were words for so faithful a lover, 
 
 Fair enough, fond enough, say ! 
 Would you be vexed at my passionate pleading? 
 
 Would you believe it was true ? 
 How would the beautiful eyes look, conceding? 
 
 Rebuking ? Oh, Sweet ! if you knew ! " 
 
 SHE: 
 " How can I know, when a glance of relenting 
 
 Stays the love- whisper, half-said ? 
 How can I know when, while I am consenting, 
 
 c No ' is the sentence you dread ? 
 Sometimes I think I should never believe you, 
 
 Sometimes my thought is not so ; 
 If you speak nothing, no answer can grieve you, 
 
 Only then what can I know ? " 
 
<S>n a Cyclamen, 
 
 (Plucked at Cana of Galilee, awl presented to her, as a Bride}. 
 
 ONLY a Flower ! but, then, it grew 
 
 On the green mountains which en-ring 
 
 Kana-el-Jelil ; looking to 
 
 The village, and the little Spring ! 
 
 The Love which did those bridals bless 
 Ever and ever on these shine ! 
 
 Make happier all your happiness, 
 And turn its water into wine ! 
 
3n 
 
 THE harvest-moon stands on the sea, 
 
 Her shining rim's ad rip ; 
 She gilds the sheaves on many a lea, 
 
 The sails on many a ship ; 
 Glitter, sweet Queen, upon the spray, 
 
 And glimmer on the heather ; 
 Bight fair thy ray to show the way 
 
 Where lovers walk together. 
 
 The red wheat rustles, and the vines 
 
 Are purple to the root, 
 And true love, waiting patient, wins 
 
 Its blessed time of fruit. 
 Lamp of all lovers, Lady-moon, 
 
 Light these glad lips together 
 Which reap alone a harvest sown 
 
 Long ere September weather. 
 
ZTo a Sleeping 
 
 DARLING ! as you lie there sleeping, with the holy angels 
 
 keeping 
 Watch and ward around your pillow, shading it with 
 
 wings of gold 
 Sentinels whose happy duty is to guard your grace and 
 
 beauty 
 While you lie there dreaming, seeming all your sweet 
 
 self, calm and cold, 
 Who would think that the true treasure of that casket, 
 
 beyond measure 
 
 Rich, and fair, and finished, is not where the quiet cas- 
 ket lies ? 
 
 That they see the palace-portal set ajar, and the Immortal 
 Gone forth from its rosy gateway, locking satin lids on 
 eyes? 
 
 Yet so it is. Sweetest woman ! and what's there is but the 
 
 human 
 Robe and raiment which your spirit wears, to walk with 
 
 all the rest, 
 Regal raiment ! Ah ! the silky wavelets of that hair ! the 
 
 milky 
 Whiteness of the brow, the neck, the small hands folded 
 
 o'er the breast ! 
 
 I 
 
130 IN MY LADTS PRAISE. 
 
 As a Queen's grace seems to linger in the pearl-strings 
 
 which her finger 
 Loosened so thy soul leaves glory on that sleeping form 
 
 of thine ; 
 But the slender, fair, still body is not that which most I 
 
 worship, 
 
 And your soul my Pride ! my Bride ! is here, and 
 talking low with mine. 
 
 All because, at such an hour, Love hath so much charm 
 
 and power, 
 Life hath so much deeper knowledge of its march and 
 
 mystery, 
 
 That so soon as I invite it coy no longer, but delighted, 
 Forth thy quick and gentle spirit comes for fellowship 
 
 with me. 
 And, beside my spirit sitting, thoughts with deep thoughts 
 
 interknitting, 
 Speaking plainly in a silence clearer, dearer far than 
 
 speech, 
 Mine grows all thine inmost being ; and I see thee more 
 
 than seeing 
 
 I and thou as one together; blended, ended, each in 
 each. 
 
"Stu&ents 1 Da" in tbe IRational Gallery 
 
 (Written when she was copying the Madonna of Perugino. May 1868.) 
 
 OUT of all the hundred fair Madonnas 
 
 Seen in many a rich and distant city 
 
 Sweet Madonnas, with the mother's bosoms ; 
 
 Sad Madonnas, with the eyes of anguish ; 
 
 Rapt Madonnas, caught in clouds to heaven 
 
 (Clouds of golden, glad, adoring Angels ) 
 
 She of Florence, in the chair so perfect ! 
 
 She that was the " Grand Duke's" wealth and glory, 
 
 She that makes the picture " of the Goldfinch," 
 
 Ghirlandajo's, with the cloak and jewels, 
 
 Guide's Queen, whom men and angels worship ; 
 
 Delia Robbia's best ; and that sweet " Perla " 
 
 Seville's bright boast Mary of Murillo, 
 
 (Painted so they vow " with milk and roses ") 
 
 Guido Reni's Quadro at Bologna, 
 
 Munich's masterpiece, grim Durer's Goddess ; 
 
 Yes ! and thy brave work Beltraffio mio ! 
 
132 IN MY LADTS PRAISE. 
 
 Many as the lessons are I owe them, 
 
 Thanks and wonder ; worship ; grateful memories, 
 
 Oftenest I shall think of Perugino's. 
 
 Do you know it ? Either side a triptych 
 Stands an armed Archangel as to guard her 
 Glorious with great wings, and shining armour : 
 In the middle panel, pure and tender, 
 Clasping close her hands, with adoration, 
 (All the Mother's love the Mortal's worship 
 In their yearning, in their reverence, painted) 
 Gazes Mary on the Child. A seraph 
 Holds Him, smiling, at her knees ; and, smiling, 
 Looks she down, with spirit humbly-happy, 
 Full to heart's brim of the Peace of Heaven. 
 Reverence mingles with the Mother's passion, 
 But no touch of sadness, or of doubting. 
 Far away a river runneth seaward, 
 (Little now like Truth like Truth, to widen) 
 Leads the light across a blue dim country, 
 Under peaks by forests to the ocean : 
 Soft and warm, a pearly sky broods over 
 Where three Winged-Ones, at the Father's footstool, 
 Sing the " peace and good-will " song to mortals. 
 
"STUDENTS' DAY. 3 ' 133 
 
 If you ask me why that Perugino 
 Of the rest can never be forgotten, 
 Let this serve : I learned a lesson by it, 
 Watching one whose light and faithful fingers 
 Following touch by touch her lovely labour 
 Caught the Master's trick, and made him modern. 
 While she bent above her new Madonna, 
 Laid the lucid smalts, and touched the crimsons, 
 Swept the shadows under the gilt tresses, 
 Smoothed the sinless brows, and drooped the eyelids, 
 What the Master did, so also doing, 
 I bethought me " True and good the toil is ! 
 Noble thus to double gifts of beauty ! 
 Yet, alas ! this ' peace and good-will ' anthem, 
 If the dear Madonna knew what ages 
 Slowly following ages would creep o'er us, 
 And those words be still as wind that passes, 
 Breathing fragrance from a land we know not, 
 Sighing music to a tune we catch not, 
 Stirring hearts, as leaves, i' the night, a little 
 Shake, and sleep again, and wait for sunlight, 
 (Sweet, glad sunlight ! oh, so long a-coming !) 
 Would she smile so ? I had painted rather 
 (While she listened to those singing Angels,) 
 
i 3 4 IN MY LADY'S PRAISE. 
 
 Mary, with a sword-blade in her bosom, 
 
 (Sword that was to pierce her heart, of all hearts ! ) 
 
 I had shown her with deep eyes of trouble, 
 
 Half afraid to credit that Evangel ; 
 
 I had limned her ' pondering all those sayings, 7 
 
 All our later agonies foreseeing, 
 
 After all our years have heard ' the tidings.' " 
 
 But the Artist, painting bold and largely, 
 Washing soft and clear the broadening colours ; 
 With a liberal brush, at skilful working, 
 Linking lights and shadows on the visage, 
 Dropped by hazard there one drop of water ! 
 " Lo, a tear ! " I thought ; " that teaches Pietro ! 
 That is wiser than the Master's wisdom ! 
 Now the picture's meaning will be perfect ! 
 For she could not be so calm Christ's Mother 
 Could she ? even though Archangels kept her ! 
 Could she ? even though those sang in Heaven ! 
 Knowing how her world would roll beyond them, 
 Twenty centuries past this sacred moment, 
 Out of sound of this angelic singing ; 
 Loaded with the wrongs Christ's justice rights not, 
 Keddened with the blood Christ's teachings staunch not, 
 
"STUDENTS' DAY." 135 
 
 Reeking with the tears Christ's pity stays not : 
 Let the tear shine there ! it suits the story ! 
 Tear and smile go wondrous well together ! 
 Seeing that this song was sung by Angels ; 
 Seeing that the foolish world gainsays it. 
 That one lustrous drop completes the picture ! 
 You forgot it ! Peter of Perugia ! " 
 
 Ah ! I did not know an Artist's wisdom ! 
 I had still to learn my deepest lesson : 
 She I watched, with better thought inspired, 
 Took some tender colour in her pencil, 
 (Faint dawn-colour, blush of rose I marked not !) 
 Touched the tear, and melted it to brightness, 
 Spread it in a heavenly smile all over, 
 Magically made it turn to service ; 
 Till that tear, charged with its rosy tintings, 
 Deepened the first sweet smile, and left it lovelier, 
 Like the Master's work, complete, sufficient ! 
 
 Then I thought : " Pietro's wise Madonna 
 Was too wise to weep at little sorrows ! 
 Christ, and She, and Heaven, and all the angels 
 Last ; 'tis sin, and grief, alone which passes ! 
 
136 IN MY LADTS PRAISE. 
 
 Roses grow of dew, and smiles from weeping ! 
 Sweetest smile is made of saddest tear-drop ! 
 She hath not forgotten we shall suffer ! 
 In her heart that sword to the heft is planted, 
 But, beyond the years, she sees Time over ; 
 Past the Calvary she counts ' the mansions/ 
 Dear Madonna ! wise to be so happy ! 
 Should you weep, because we have not listened ? 
 We shall listen ! and His mother knows it ! " 
 
 This is why of many rare Madonnas, 
 Most of all I think on Perugino's ; 
 I who know so many more and love them ! 
 This is why I thank my gentle artist, 
 She who taught me that, a student's wisdom ! 
 
/I&emories. 
 
 THEY never will read it, in this sad face, 
 How I came, at last, to my Lady's grace ; 
 If they saw my heart they would hardly know 
 It lies so close, and it lurks so low : 
 
 So womanly went she, so gladsome and good, 
 The charm of her never was understood ; 
 Till I for whom was the secret fine 
 Found her, and wooed her, and won her for mine. 
 
 She knows she only ! how slow and sweet 
 My love grew up from the palms of her feet, 
 From low at her foot to high on her brow, 
 From Dear and Dearer to Dearest till now. 
 
 There is none of her none that I may not love, 
 Beauty of earth, or bright spirit above ; 
 But only the Angels and Fannie know 
 Why, living and dying I love her so. 
 
3n Hbsence. 
 
 (Written in 1872, and found among her papers.) 
 
 AT home I sit without you, 
 
 And find that " home " is you ; 
 Homeless at home, to miss you makes 
 
 The soft words sound untrue : 
 Not twice ten leagues divide us 
 
 A thousand they appear, 
 Because to part heart's beat from heart 
 
 Leaves entry- gate for fear. 
 
 Are you safe well and sleeping ? 
 
 You cannot answer me ! 
 Why should the faint electric pulse 
 
 Throb under all the Sea, 
 And mighty Love, past range of speech, 
 
 Be dumb and deaf and blind 
 Beyond such space as takes your face 
 
 Too far for eyes to find ? 
 
IN ABSENCE. 139 
 
 Dearest ! I touch, with trembling, 
 
 A cup of fate and fear ! 
 Your chair, your book, the rose you wore, 
 
 Your hat, your gloves are here, 
 But not what gave them charm ! Lone seems 
 
 This room, and lone above 
 Will be I know when there I go 
 
 The nest of my white Dove. 
 
 I touch a cup of sadness ; 
 
 Tasting the topmost drop 
 Of what if God should bid me drink 
 
 Would make all singing stop : 
 Suppose that never more you came ! 
 
 As one who sets wild lips 
 To dark drugged bowl, so my rash soul 
 
 At that dread fancy sips ; 
 
 And, then, recoils in fancy 
 
 As lips draw back in haste 
 From the first deadly flavouring 
 
 Of the sharp poison-taste. 
 Ah ! Heaven be praised ! To-morrow, you 
 
 Will sit in the old chair, 
 
140 IN MY LADTS PRAISE. 
 
 The leagues will change to kissing-range, 
 And I shall stroke your hair. 
 
 Yet, since it might be, Darling ! 
 
 And being I should need 
 To say a hundred hurried things 
 
 Of which Death takes no heed, 
 I write one word of all those words 
 
 As true as truth can be, 
 For you to read, come back with speed 
 
 Bright and alive to me : 
 
 And this it is : I love you 
 
 For troubles, cares, and fears ; 
 For faults and foolish angers, 
 
 And whims and tiffs and tears, 
 For sulks not less than sweetness, Sweet ! 
 
 For faith no more than doubt ; 
 Not counting nought those hours which brought 
 
 Fondness by fallings-out. 
 
 Yes ! and if Fannie ! never 
 
 You sate by me again, 
 And this feigned thought of sadness 
 
 Were settled lasting pain, 
 
IN ABSENCE. 141 
 
 I should not say, " would I had shewn 
 
 A nobler constancy ! " 
 As you in Heaven were all forgiven 
 
 So I on Earth must be. 
 
 If you were dead I should not 
 
 Wish I had loved you more, 
 Because heart-full is full what failed 
 
 Was body, when souls soar : 
 But I should wish forgotten 
 
 Rash acts and thoughts unkind 
 Which chanced ere while that I might smile 
 
 Your soft faults out of mind. 
 
 Well ! one small word tells all things ! 
 
 " Love," " Love " concludes, begins, 
 Defines explains exemplifies, 
 
 Conciliates, comforts, wins ; 
 Assoils the sins we could not 'scape, 
 
 Sets right our wrong, and ends 
 All grief of this with one soul-kiss 
 
 Which links us lasting friends. 
 
 Then hear it, Wife ! This midnight 
 My spirit speaks to you 
 
142 IN MY LADY'S PRAISE. 
 
 That word of changless meaning 
 By solitude made true : 
 
 For, Sweet ! if planets parted us 
 Instead .of leagues twice ten, 
 
 As I who write love you to-night, 
 So should I love you then. 
 
 June 6, 1872. 
 
3n tbe 
 
 Now thou art come into thy blissful rest 
 Forget me wholly, Dear ! if to remember 
 
 Troubles thy sojourn with the spirits blest, 
 
 Dulls thy Heaven's June with clouds of Earth's December. 
 
 Be happy as God wills ! It were ill love 
 To cling about an Angel's golden raiment 
 
 Grudging her passage to the peace above, 
 
 Asking from Paradise some gift for payment. 
 
 Be speechless, still, reposeful, proud ! Respond, 
 
 By no reviving rose on that white cheek, 
 To my last cry, despairing, doubting, fond ; 
 
 To this impassioned summons which I speak ! 
 
 Have thou no heed, so that with thee 'tis well ! 
 
 Kissing thy cold lips on this mournful morrow, 
 Me thinks they say, " I am too glad to tell 
 
 One joy ! " What matters, then, if I must sorrow ! 
 
 March 16, 1889. 
 
Sic sine vita 
 
 Divere quam suave est ! sic sine morte mori ! 
 
 " WHAT Adonai's is " great Shelley said 
 
 " Why fear we to become ? " And that's well posed, 
 For, since you can lie there, dear Mayflower ! dead, 
 
 With eyes which were so bright for ever closed, 
 And lips which were so lightsome shut for ever, 
 
 And hands which were so busy meekly linked, 
 And laugh, never again to ring ah, never ! 
 
 And loving heart so still why ! Death has winked 
 Over Love's foolish head at Life, revealing 
 
 The riddle of his message. Now we know, 
 For us and others, that what seemed such stealing 
 
 Of our heart's treasure, was not really so. 
 God, making her, must love her that's most certain ! 
 
 So she was weary and He drew her curtain. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED B\ BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON. 
 
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S 
 WORKS. 
 
 " The perusal of Sir Edwin Arnold's pages is an intellectual 
 and humanising treat? ASIATIC QUARTERLY REVIEW. 
 
Sir Efcwin Brnolfc's poetical Worfes. 
 
 Imperial i6mo, parchment, pp. 144, price 35. 6d. 
 
 N MY LADY'S PRAISE: 
 
 BEING POEMS OLD AND NEW, 
 
 Written to the Honour of Fanny, Lady Arnold, 
 
 AND NOW COLLECTED FOR HER MEMORY, 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 " Good-night ! not Good-bye ! 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 A Casket of Gems 
 
 F. Fire-opals. 
 
 A. Amethysts. 
 
 N. Nephrite, Jade. 
 
 N. Nacre and Pearls. 
 
 Y. Yacut, Topazes. 
 
 M. Moonstone. 
 
 A. Aquamarine. 
 
 R. Rubies. 
 
 I. Idocrase, Garnets. 
 
 A. Agates. 
 
 A. Amber and Lazulite. 
 
 D. Diamonds. 
 
 E. Emeralds. 
 
 L. Ligure, Jacynths. 
 
 A. An Aureus. 
 
 I. lolite and Ivory. 
 
 D. Dawn -stone. 
 
 E. Euclase and Essonite. 
 
 2 
 
 October. 
 
 Dedication of a Volume of Trans- 
 lations. 
 
 To "Stella. " 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 On a Cyclamen. 
 
 In Happy Days. 
 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 
 "Students' Day" in the National 
 Gallery. 
 
 Memories. 
 
 In Absence. 
 
 In the Death-Chamber. 
 
 Sic sine vita. 
 
Sir JEfcwin Hrnolb's "SLafcs's praise." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 MORNING POST. "Possess considerable merit, and indicate a 
 keen appreciation of and admiration for her in whose honour 
 they were composed" 
 
 SATURDAY REVIEW. " The poet's fancy ranges with character- 
 istic ease and buoyancy through many a rich field of legend and 
 history, and does not disdain to add to the poetic garnering 
 somewhat of the spoils of science? 
 
 ACADEMY. " Very sweet and sacred would seem to have been 
 the love of which Sir Edwin Arnold allows us to be partakers 
 through the fellowship of grief and song? 
 
 WHITEHALL REVIEW. " It will be the cherished possession of 
 all Sir Edwin Arnold's friends? 
 
 GRAPHIC. '''Admirers of Sir Edwin Arnold's imaginative 
 and poetical gifts will not be willing to remain without the 
 volume in which is enshrined the thoughts which have come of 
 the breaking up of a domestic alliance, to all seeming of idyllic 
 happiness? 
 
 WORLD. "His dedication is an exquisite specimen of that 
 spirit of love which pervades the books* 
 
 SOCIETY. " This is indeed a noble addition to our store of 
 elegiac poetry? 
 
 OBSERVER. " A graceful and pathetic tribute to the memory 
 of one whose passing away extinguished for a time the light of 
 his heart and home? 
 
 LITERARY WORLD. "Contains some very beautiful thoughts. 
 . . . There are passages in these poems that deserve to live. . . . 
 The ' Casket of Gems ' is well described as such, and we commend 
 it to all lovers of poetry? 
 
 BRITISH WEEKLY. "Necessarily mournful, yet rich with 
 imagination, and worthy of the poems that have preceded it 
 from the same pen? 
 
 LLOYD'S NEWS. "Comes like a fresh and inspiring breeze 
 from the mountain heights, chasing the gloom of those who 
 would have us believe that there is an end of chivalry, and that 
 life is all a failure? 
 
 FIGARO. " Some of them are very beautiful, and others in- 
 tensely pathetic? 
 
 SCOTSMAN. "Has beauties enough of its own to make it 
 heartily enjoyed by all lovers of poetry? 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 3 
 
Sir Efcwin Brnolfc's poetical Worfes, 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 375, price 73. 6d. 
 
 POEMS: 
 
 NATIONAL AND NON-ORIENTAL. 
 WITH SOME NEW PIECES. 
 
 Selected from the Works of 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 Author of "The Light of Asia," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Four Crowns. 
 
 Serenade. 
 
 Oxford Revisited. 
 
 To H.R.H. the Princess 
 
 The Emigrant. 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 of Wales. 
 
 The Three Students. 
 
 The Altar of Pity. 
 
 The First Distribution of 
 
 Jam Satis. 
 
 The Cholera in Italy. 
 
 the Victoria Cross. 
 
 Aristippus. 
 
 The Wreck of the " Nor- 
 
 In Memoriam. 
 
 Erne. 
 
 thern Belle." 
 
 Florence Nightingale. 
 
 To F. C. H. 
 
 A Home Song. 
 
 Congratulatory Address. 
 The Order of Valour. 
 
 From Sappho. 
 From Anacreon. 
 
 Fond Fancies. 
 On a Dead Lady. 
 
 On the Death of the Prin- 
 
 Nemesis. 
 
 Lydia. 
 
 cess Alice. 
 
 Love and Life. 
 
 The Lost Pleiad. 
 
 Havelock in Trafalgar 
 
 Two Idylls of Theocritus : 
 
 Amadis of Gaul to Don 
 
 Square. 
 Adelaide Anne Procter. 
 
 By the Fountain. 
 The Spell. 
 
 Quixote de la Mancha. 
 The Shadow of the Cross. 
 
 To America. 
 
 Lament of Adonis. 
 
 Christ Blessing Little Chil- 
 
 Armageddon. 
 
 Prayer to the Muses. 
 
 dren. 
 
 To Matthew Arnold. 
 
 A Dedication. 
 
 On a Cyclamen. 
 
 Song of the German Sol- 
 
 With a Volume of Trans- 
 
 The Twelve Months. 
 
 diers in Alsace. 
 
 lations. 
 
 In Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Berlin. The Sixteenth of 
 
 Dedication of a Book. 
 
 Atalanta, 
 
 March. 
 
 The Epic of the Lion. 
 
 Life. 
 
 
 Nencia. 
 
 Hadrian's Address to his 
 
 " 
 
 The Stratford Pilgrims. 
 
 Soul. 
 
 Hero and Leander. 
 
 "Students' Day" in the 
 
 The Depths of the Sea. 
 
 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 National Gallery. 
 
 The Heavenly Secret. 
 
 The Three Roses. 
 
 The Knight's Tomb at 
 
 An Adieu. 
 
 He and She. 
 
 Swanscombe Church. 
 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "On the th instant, 
 
 Alia Mano Delia Mia 
 
 A Farewell. 
 
 Drowned whilst Bath- 
 
 Donna. 
 
 A Love-Song of Henri 
 
 ing." 
 
 The Hymn of the Priestess 
 
 Quatre. 
 
 Dream-land. 
 
 of Diana. 
 
 In Memory of S. S. 
 
 A ma Future. 
 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 
 Epitaph written for the 
 
 Llangollen. 
 
 To Stella. 
 
 Same. 
 
 The Two Wreaths. 
 
 Inscribed upon a Skull 
 
 Obscure Martyrs. 
 
 Almond Blossom. 
 
 picked up on the Acro- 
 
 Wilfred H. Arnold. 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 polis at Athens. 
 
 The Rhine and the Mo- 
 
 All Saints' Day. 
 
 The New Lucian. 
 
 selle. 
 
 4 
 
Sir Edwin Hrnold's Selected poems* 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. "Among so much that is striking in 
 thought or diction it may be difficult to select favourites, and im- 
 possible to award absolute priority of merit; but the short set 
 of verses called * Atalanta] and another on Mr. Burn Jones's 
 picture of* The Mermaid] entitled * The Depths of the Sea] come 
 as near poetical perfection as any in a volume which will delight 
 all to whom English poetry is dear" 
 
 MORNING POST. "Sir Edwin Arnold, in the work under 
 notice, purposely turns from the glowing magic of his Eastern 
 verse, and complies 'with a desire that a selection should be 
 made from his non-Oriental poems} There is consequently great 
 variety in this volume, which contains also many fine and 
 scholarly renderings from French, German, and other poets, 
 besides some * new pieces .'" 
 
 ECHO. " We thank the author for this volume of selected 
 non-Oriental poems, which contain many things which the world 
 would not willingly let die." 
 
 ST. JAMES' GAZETTE. "Assuredly as Catholic as it is musical" 
 MANCHESTER GUARDIAN. "Exceedingly pleasant verse" 
 
 SCOTSMAN. "A goodly volume of goodly verse. . . . These 
 poems are of uniformly exquisite workmanship, and in many 
 the verse is rich and glowing. They are all inspired by pure 
 and lofty sentiment and noble* ideas. They possess unusual 
 grace of form and expression" 
 
 SATURDAY REVIEW. "As a selection the volume shows unusual 
 care and discrimination. It comprises some new poems, in 
 addition to many old favourites, sure of welcome by all lovers of 
 poetry? 
 
 WESTMINSTER REVIEW. " They are as refreshing as a breath 
 of air after long confinement in a crowded room? 
 
 BOOKSELLER. "A most masterly composition" 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 5 
 
Sir lEfcwin Hrnoifc's poetical Morfes. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. x. and 212, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 OR, 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 Being the " Ishk " or Third Chapter of the " Bostan " of 
 the Persian Poet Sa'di. 
 
 Embodied in a Dialogue held in the Garden of the 
 Taj Mahal, at Agra. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. &c. 
 
 IN this work, which is dedicated to the Earl of Dufferin, 
 the Author, after minutely describing the beautiful Tomb and 
 surrounding Gardens of the Taj Mahal, introduces a group 
 composed of a learned Mirza, two singing-girls with their 
 attendant, and an Englishman, who pass the night in the 
 Mosque attached to the famous Monument, reading the 
 Chapter of Sa'di upon " Love," and conversing upon that 
 theme, with accompaniments of music and dancing. The 
 larger portion of the Book is original, and comprises, besides 
 the included translations from Sa'di, many lyrical pieces in 
 the Persian manner, sung by the accomplished musicians, 
 
 and also several novel Oriental Tales illustrating the dialogue. 
 6 
 
Sir JE&wfn Hrnolt>'8 "Mitb Sa'Oi." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 MORNING POST " From first to last Sir Edwin ArnohVs 
 work is rich in gems of thought, conveyed now in words of 
 brilliant imagery \ sometimes of deeper import, again of exquisite 
 feeling, but testifying one and all to his absolute assimilation of 
 the genius of the East." 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. "The charm of the volume is greatly en- 
 hanced by the mingling of dramatic narrative with love, lore and 
 philosophy ; and those who in this shape first become acquainted 
 with Sddi's poetry and quaint wisdom will owe a lasting debt 
 of gratitude to the accomplished translator." 
 
 ECHO. "Another volume of charming verse from the fat- 
 East. . . . That they are charming there can be no question : 
 the only question is whether they are not too charming so 
 charming as to be almost enervating" 
 
 ACADEMY. ". . . The perusal of these poems has something 
 of the effect of a change of climate : we open the book, and forth- 
 with leave behind our modern practical life, to find ourselves in 
 a spiritual region of yearning, and ecstasy and high-strung 
 devotion. We close it, and come back to our work-a-day with a 
 feeling as if we had been breathing a softer and purer air" 
 
 SPECTATOR. " The plan of Sir Edwin Arnold's latest poem 
 is simple but ingenious. . . . He displays a considerable com- 
 mand of picturesque imagery, and a flowing narrative style. 
 His verse is often melodious." 
 
 WHITEHALL REVIEW. " We could quote and quote and quote 
 again, filling our columns with orient pearls, and yet leave the 
 treasures of this book well-nigh untotiched" 
 
 BRITISH WEEKLY. "His verse has all its old dreamy charm', 
 one could give himself up to it in the sun for hours" 
 
 ST. STEPHEN'S REVIEW. " ' Sa'di's ' poems go straight to the 
 heart. . . . It is not going too far to say, that for captivating 
 interest, for situations on which the mind hangs spell-bojmd, 
 and for exquisite touches of human nature andsublimest'fyathos, 
 the author of ' Tfie Light of Asia 1 has in this exquisite idyl 
 surpassed himself" 
 
 LITERARY WORLD. " We hope Sir Edwin Arnold will long 
 be spared to give us more of his delightful and scholarly Oriental 
 poems, instinct as they are with the truest spirit of Eastern 
 philosophy and life." 
 
 LIVERPOOL MERCU RY. " Glowing with sensuousness, the light, 
 the colour of the East. . . . The ballads and love songs are 
 especially fine, and the work as a whole will add to its authors 
 already not inconsiderable fame" 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 7 
 
Sir Efcwin Hrnolb's poetical TKHorfea 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 264, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 LOTUS AND JEWEL. 
 
 CONTAINING- 
 
 "IN AN INDIAN TEMPLE," 
 
 "A CASKET OF GEMS," 
 "A QUEEN'S REVENGE." 
 
 With other Poems. 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 In an Indian Temple. 
 A Casket of Gems. 
 Introduction. 
 
 F. Fire-opals. 
 
 A. Amethysts. 
 
 N. Nephrite, Jade. 
 
 N. Nacre and Pearls. 
 
 Y. Yacut, Topazes. 
 
 M. Moonstone. 
 
 A. Aquamarine. 
 
 R. Rubies. 
 
 I. Idocrase, Garnets. 
 
 A. Agates. 
 
 A. Amber and Lazulite. 
 
 D. Diamonds. 
 
 E. Emeralds. 
 
 L. Ligure, Jacynths. 
 
 A. An Aureus. 
 
 I. lolite and Ivory. 
 
 D. Dawn-stone. 
 
 E. Euclase and Essonite. 
 8 
 
 Laila. 
 
 In Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Atalanta. 
 
 Life (from Victor Hugo], 
 
 Hadrian's Address to his Soul. 
 
 The Depths of the Sea. 
 
 The Heavenly Secret. 
 
 An Adieu. 
 
 The Indian Judge. 
 
 Jeanne (from Victor Hugo}. 
 
 A Rajput Nurse. 
 
 Zanouba's Song (from the Persian}. 
 
 The Snake and the Baby. 
 
 From a Sikh Hymn. 
 
 A Farewell (from the French). 
 
 A Love-Song of Henri Quatre. 
 
 From the Sanskrit Anthology. 
 
 Basti Singh's Wife. 
 
 In Memory of S. S. 
 
 Epitaph on the Same. 
 
 From the Sanskrit. 
 
 Grishma ; or, The Season of 
 
 Heat. 
 A Queen's Revenge. 
 
Sir Efcwin Hrnolft's "Xotus an& Jewel/' 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. " Steeped in the lore and penetrated with 
 the love of India, Sir Edwin Arnold has accomplished that 
 which few other men would venture to attempt. He has brought 
 to English ears and English hearts the strange and wonderful 
 meanings of the Vedas and the Puranas, blending the mystery 
 of Hinduism with the clear and noble sweetness of English 
 verse." 
 
 DAI LY N EWS. " If Sir Edwin Arnold owes his inspiration as 
 a poet to Indian air, where his imagination loves to dwell, and 
 his fancy seems radiant with all the light and colour and redolent 
 of all the perfumes of the East, he has in these pages shown that 
 a poet is a poet all the world over, wherever the still sad music 
 of humanity is heard? 
 
 PALL MALL GAZETTE. "Fully maintains Sir Edwin Arnold^s 
 reputation. It contains three principal poems, of which the first 
 in order, 'In an Indian Temple j seems to us the best. The second, 
 1 A Casket of GemsJ is full of delicate and graceful fancy, its 
 diction is rich even to gorgeousness, while passages showing 
 depth of feeling occur again and again. The third, 'A Queen's 
 Revenge,' is a translation from the Sanskrit of the Mahdbhdrata. 
 Powerful certainly it is, and it casts, as the author remarks, a 
 curious light on ( ancient Indian life and manners? " 
 
 ECHO. " Sir Edwin Arnold is always very pleasant read- 
 ing. He takes us out of our surroundings, and puts us down 
 in an entirely different country" 
 
 WHITEHALL REVIEW. "Sir Edwin Arnold is apoet, a scholar, 
 and a student ; he knows what he is writing about, and he 
 writes beautifully. . . . He has brought many precious Eastern 
 things to our market, and so we are very grateful to him." 
 
 ACADEMY. " The book is full of charm" 
 
 BRISTOL MERCURY. "Every one who loves poetry should get 
 this collection, and we shall be surprised if they do not say, when 
 they have read it, that the writer is a true poet? 
 
 SCOTSMAN. "Style and rhythm are, as in all this author's 
 poems, rich and melodious, the imagery is beautiful and appro- 
 priate, and the thoughts warm and noble." 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 A2 9 
 
Sir jEfcwin Hrnolfc's poetical Morfes. 
 
 Crown Svo, pp. xiv. and 173, cloth, price 55. 
 
 THE SONG CELESTIAL; 
 
 OR, BHAGAVAD-GITA. 
 
 (From the Mahdbhdrata.} 
 
 Being a Discourse between Arjuna, Prince of India, and the 
 Supreme Being, under the form of Krishna. 
 
 Translated from the Sanskrit. 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Distress of Arjuna. 
 The Book of Doctrines. 
 Virtue in Work. 
 The Religion of Knowledge. 
 Religion of Renouncing Works. 
 Religion by Self- Restraint. 
 Religion by Discernment. 
 Religion by Service of the Supreme. 
 
 Religion by the Kingly Knowledge and the Kingly Mystery. 
 Religion by the Heavenly Perfections. 
 The Manifesting of the One and Manifold. 
 Religion of Faith. 
 
 Religion by Separation of Matter and Spirit. 
 Religion by Separation from the Qualities. 
 Religion by Attaining the Supreme. 
 The Separateness of the Divine and Undivine. 
 Religion by the Threefold Faith. 
 Religion by Deliverance and Renunciation. 
 
Sir Efcwfn Hrnolfc's "Sono Celestial," 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 TIMES OF INDIA. "Sir Edwin Arnold has, in fact, presented 
 us with a new poem of beatitiful diction and splendid rhythm, as 
 indeed might have been expected from such a master of the 
 intricacies of versification" 
 
 MORNING POST. " Sir Edwin Arnold has once more enriched 
 our literature with a treasure drawn from the mine of Indian 
 lore. . . . If l The Song Celestial ' offers less narrative interest 
 than other works previously translated by Sir Edwin Arnold, it 
 excels them in elevation of tone, the effect of which is rendered 
 still more complete by the authors power and grace of diction? 
 
 LITERARY WORLD. " Sir Edwin Arnold merits our warmest 
 thanks for his scholarly and highly poetic rendering of this 
 famous poem? 
 
 LIVERPOOL MERCURY. "One feels the better for a book like 
 this which Sir Edwin Arnold has given us. That fulness of 
 thought and simplicity of presentment which everywhere distin- 
 guishes Eastern literature is nowhere more conspicuous than in 
 this admirable translation. The blank verse is strong and yet 
 pliable, easy to read and very musical, clear and yet strenuous? 
 
 LEEDS MERCURY. "Sir Edwin Arnold has again achieved 
 a notable success in a difficult task . . . he has given us a most 
 readable and attractive metrical translation of the loftiest and 
 purest of the episodes of the huge Mahdbhdrata? 
 
 SHEFFIELD INDEPENDENT. "In Sir Edwin Arnold^s trans- 
 lations these exquisite melodies captivate the English ear, and 
 lead one to wonder what they must be like in the Sanskrit text? 
 
 CHRISTIAN WORLD. "Far surpasses its predecessors in poetic 
 grace and attractiveness? 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 ii 
 
Sit Efcwin Hrnoifc's poetical Worfes, 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 406, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 THE SECRET OF DEATH. 
 
 (From the Sanskrit.} 
 
 WITH SOME COLLECTED POEMS. 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction. 
 The Secret of Death. 
 Hero and Leander. 
 The Epic of the Lion. 
 Nencia. 
 
 The Rajpoot Wife. 
 The Caliph's Daughter. 
 The Stratford Pilgrims. 
 Vernier. 
 King Saladin. 
 The Rajah's Ride. 
 A Bihari Mill-Song. 
 Hindoo Funeral Song. 
 Song of the Serpent-Charmers. 
 Song of the Flour-Mill. 
 "Students' Day" in the National 
 
 Gallery. 
 The Knight's Tomb at Swanscombe 
 
 Church. 
 
 Adelaide Anne Procter. 
 The Three Roses. 
 Alia Mano Delia Mia Donna. 
 The Hymn of the Priestess of 
 
 Diana. 
 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 To Stella. 
 Lines Inscribed on a Skull picked 
 
 up on the Acropolis at Athens. 
 Dedication of a Poem from the 
 
 Sanskrit. 
 
 The New Lucian. 
 On the Death of the Princess Alice. 
 Facies Non Omnibus Una. 
 
 12 
 
 Armageddon. 
 
 The Four Crowns. 
 
 Havelock in Trafalgar Square. 
 
 Oxford Revisited. 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 The Altar of Pity. 
 
 The Cholera in Italy. 
 
 Rest. 
 
 The First Distribution of the Victoria 
 
 Cross. 
 
 The Wreck of the "Northern Belle." 
 A Home Song. 
 Fond Fancies. 
 The Landing of the Princess of 
 
 Wales. 
 To F. C. H. 
 He and She. 
 
 On a Dead Lady (from the Italian}. 
 The Three Students. 
 Serenade. 
 
 Lydia (from Horace]. 
 Dante and his Verses. 
 The Lost Pleiad. 
 Amadis of Gaul to Don Quixote de 
 
 la Mancha. 
 
 The Shadow of the Cross. 
 Christ Blessing Little Children. 
 On a Cyclamen, Plucked at Cana of 
 
 Galilee. 
 
 A Discourse of Buddha. 
 The Twelve Months. 
 A Dedication. 
 Translation from the Greek. 
 
Sir E&win Hrnolfc's " Secret ot Beatlx" 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 MORNING POST. "Each new work of Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 shows his style to be as vigorous, his imagination as fertile as 
 ever. He is unequalled as an exponent of the treasures to be 
 found in the rich mine of Oriental literature. . . . In the first 
 three ' Vallis* or ' Lotus Stems* of the ' Katha Upanishad] the 
 purest philosophical doctrines are conveyed in a species of par- 
 ables, full of Oriental imagery and vivid colouring? 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. " Nothing can exceed the graceful purity, 
 the sympathetic and reverent tenderness, with which * this lovely 
 lotus-blossom ' is unfolded by its faithful admirer? 
 
 GLOBE. " The story is told with a truly Oriental wealth of 
 imagery, and is no less vivid in its landscape than subtle in its 
 philosophy? 
 
 MORNING ADVERTISER. " Every poem in the present collection 
 will amply sustain Sir Edwin Arnold's reputation as a writer of 
 English verse of undoubted originality, versatility, and power? 
 
 SCOTSMAN. " Translations and original poems alike give 
 proof of a scholarly and cultured taste, and of grace and dignity 
 of diction; and not seldom of a fine combination of vigour of 
 phrase with delicacy of thought? 
 
 ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS. "He has drawn upon the 
 treasures of Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, French, and German, for 
 his varied and interesting collection; and his touch is that not 
 only of a cunning hand, but of one who feels that respect is due 
 to what he touches? 
 
 THE WHITEHALL REVIEW. " 'The poem is a great, almost a 
 priceless, contribution to religion, to poetry, and to thought? 
 
 LITERARY WORLD. "// can hardly fail to meet with a cordial 
 welcome from those readers who never tire of the humbler 
 poetry which sings of love, and loss, and longing themes as old 
 as life itself, but which never lose their freshness and their charm. 
 A collection of poems like this, in which are gathered together the 
 gleanings and the memories of many years, is to a sympathetic 
 reader almost like an hour of talk face to face; we expect a book 
 and we find a man? 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 13 
 
Sit Bbwfn Hrnolfc's poetical 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xii. and 282, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 INDIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 (From the Sanskrit of the Mahdbhdrata.} 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 SAVITRl; OR, LOVE AND DEATH. 
 NALA AND DAMAYANTI. 
 THE ENCHANTED LAKE. 
 THE SAINT'S TEMPTATION. 
 THE BIRTH OF DEATH. 
 THE NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER. 
 THE GREAT JOURNEY. 
 THE ENTRY INTO HEAVEN. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM PREFACE. 
 
 ' ' The present volume contains (besides the two Parvas from my 
 'Indian Poetry') such translations as I have from time to time made 
 out of this prodigious epic (the Mahabharata), which is sevenfold greater 
 in bulk than the Iliad and Odyssey taken together. The stories here 
 extracted are new to English literature, with the exception of a few passages 
 of the ' Savitrl' and the ' Nala and Damayantl,' which was long ago most 
 faithfully rendered by Dean Milman, the version being published side by 
 side with a clear and excellent Sanskrit text edited by Professor Monier 
 Williams, C.I.E. But that presentation of the beautiful and brilliant 
 legend, with all its conspicuous merits, seems better adapted to aid the 
 student than adequately to reproduce the swift march of narrative and 
 old-world charm of the Indian tale, which I also have therefore ventured 
 to transcribe, with all deference and gratitude to my predecessors." 
 14 
 
Sir E&wfn Hrnolfc's "SnWan 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. "Nobody who reads the heart-stirring 
 epics put into magnificent rhythm which are contained in this 
 book can ever again affect to despise the people whose genius 
 established such an imperishable monument? 
 
 DAILY NEWS. "From these mighty poems the author well 
 describes these Indian epics, compared with which Homer is a 
 modern ; he has translated some beautiful and touching episodic 
 legends, and readers of ' Sdvitri; or, Love and Death] and of 
 ' Nala and Damay anti] for example, will feel grateful to him 
 for having revealed to the somewhat jaded sensibilities of our 
 poets of to-day such a mine of inexhaustible spiritual fertility, 
 and such treasures of emotional tenderness and imaginative 
 freshness and simplicity" 
 
 GLOBE. "All the idylls are marked by the grace of diction 
 and tenderness of tone which are among Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 leading characteristics, while it needs scarcely to be said that 
 the style is pure and elevated throughout. The imagery, too, 
 is full of force and fire" 
 
 FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. "In his recently published volume of 
 ' Indian Idylls] Sir Edwin A mold continues his task of interpret- 
 ing to English readers the tender thoughts and graceful imagery 
 of the East. The volume consists of eight graphic pieces from the 
 
 * Mahdbhdrata] one of the two colossal and unparalleled epic 
 poems of India, which were not known to Europe even by name 
 till Sir William Jones announced their existence? 
 
 ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE. "Sir Edwin Arnold has eaten of the 
 lotus-fruit of Eastern song, and finds it hard to leave it. And 
 of this we are far from complaining, seeing that this taste of 
 his has enabled many of us to travel into f realms of gold ' 
 which we could hardly enter without some such skilful guide? 
 
 NEW YORK TIMES. "The ' Indian Idylls' partake of the 
 same character as his previous works, ' The Light of Asia] 
 
 * Pearls of the Faith] and others, being deeply imbued with the 
 spirit of Oriental poetry, and having the power of rendering 
 that spirit in English language with a verisimilitude and force 
 which cannot fail to convince the reader of the truth of its 
 colouring" 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 15 
 
Sir Efcwin Hrnolfc's poetical Worfes. 
 
 Crown Svo, pp. xiv. and 320, with green borders, 
 cloth, price js. 6d. 
 
 PEARLS OF THE FAITH; 
 
 OR, ISLAM'S ROSARY. 
 
 Being the Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah 
 (Asma-el-'Husna). 
 
 With Comments in Verse from various Oriental Sources. 
 As made by an Indian Mussulman. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 Allah. 
 
 Ar-Rahman. 
 Ar-Raheein. 
 Al-Malik. 
 Al-Kuddtis. 
 As-Salam. 
 Al-Maumin. 
 Al-Muhaimin. 
 Al-Hathim. 
 Al-Jabbar. 
 Al-Mutakabbir. 
 Al-Khalik. 
 Al-Bari. 
 Al-Muzawwir. 
 Al-Ghaffar. 
 Ai-Kahhar. 
 Al-Wahhab. 
 Ar-Razzak. 
 Al-Fati'h. 
 Al-'Alim. 
 Al-Kabiz. 
 Al-Basit. 
 Al-Khafiz. 
 Ar-Rafi. 
 Al-Muhizz. 
 Al-Muzlll. 
 As-Saml'h. 
 Al-Bazlr. 
 Al-Hakim. 
 Al-Hadil. 
 Al-Latlf. 
 Al-Khabir. 
 Al-Hallm. 
 Al-'Aziz. 
 16 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Al-Ghafir. 
 
 Al-Muktadir. 
 
 Ash-Shakir. 
 
 Al-Mukaddim. 
 
 Al-'Alee. 
 
 Al-Muakhkhir. 
 
 Al-Kabir. 
 
 Al-Awwal. 
 
 Al-Hafiz. 
 
 Al-Akhir. 
 
 Al-Muklt. 
 
 Ath-Thahir. 
 
 Al-Hasib. 
 
 Al-Batin. 
 
 Al-Jamll. 
 
 Al-Wali. 
 
 Al-Karim. 
 
 Al-Mutahali. 
 
 Ar-Rakib. 
 
 Al-Barr. 
 
 Al-Mujlb. 
 
 Al-Tawwab. 
 
 Al-Was'ih. 
 
 Al-Muntakim. 
 
 Al-Hakira al Mutlak. 
 
 Al-Ghafoor. 
 
 Al-Wadood. 
 
 Al-Rawdf. 
 
 Al-Majid. 
 
 Malik-ul-Mulki. 
 
 Al-Bahith. 
 
 Dhu'l jalal wa Ikram. 
 
 Ash-Shahid. 
 
 Al-Muksit. 
 
 Al-Hakk. 
 
 Al-Jami'h. 
 
 Al-Wakil. 
 
 Al-Ghani. 
 
 Al-Kawi. 
 
 Al-Mughnt. 
 
 Al-Mateen. 
 
 Al-Mu'hti. 
 
 Al-Wall. 
 
 Al-Mani'h. 
 
 Al-HamldL 
 
 An-Nafi'h. 
 
 Al-Mfthsi. 
 
 Az-Zarr. 
 
 Al-Mubdl. 
 
 An-Noor. 
 
 Al-Mu'hid. 
 
 Al-Hadl. 
 
 Al-Mo'hyi. 
 
 Al-Azali. 
 
 Al-Mumit. 
 
 Al-Bakl. 
 
 Al-Haiy. 
 
 Al-Warith. 
 
 Al-Kalvftm. 
 
 Ar-Raschid. 
 
 Al-Wajid. 
 
 Az-Zaboor. 
 
 Al-Wahid. 
 
 
 As-Samad. 
 
 Notes. 
 
 Al-Kadar. 
 
 
Sir je&wfn Hrnol&'s " pearls of tbe ffaitb.' 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 TIMES. "Sir Edwin Arnold has succeeded in producing a 
 delightful collection of Oriental stories in verse? 
 
 ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS (G. A. SALA). " / am reading 
 Sir Edwin Arnold?* book with intense delight, for the sake of 
 its majesty and eloquence, its wealth and beauty of imagery, and 
 its sweet and harmonious numbers? 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. "// will take its place in contemporary 
 literature as of the highest class." 
 
 STANDARD. "Sir Edwin Arnold has caught the spirit of the 
 Eastern original, so childlike and yet so sage, so simple yet so 
 profound, so tender in feeling yet so strong in sense? 
 
 DAILY NEWS. " In the present poem he sets to musical words 
 the rosary of an Indian Mussulman, and really displays an 
 astonishing wealth and variety of mystical and devotional 
 imagery and allegory, not without a keen perception of the finer 
 and larger human feeling and instinct which has given to the 
 faith of the Moslem its fascination, and is, perhaps, the secret 
 of its power? 
 
 DAILY CHRONICLE. "The subject is invested with fascinating 
 beauty by the wealth of Oriental illustratiotts displayed? 
 
 SCOTSMAN. "Sir Edwin Arnold brings to the performance 
 of his task peculiar qualifications great poetic gifts, broad 
 sympathies, and extensive knowledge of Oriental tongues, ideas, 
 and methods of thought? 
 
 SOCIETY. " There is such a delightful imagery and rhyth- 
 mical cadence in every line that it positively thrills one with a 
 feeling of abounding pleasure. 7* he air of pure devotion, the 
 unsurpassable power of description, the inimitable eloquence and 
 wonderfiil grace, displayed with a lavish profusion, render this 
 work almost peerless? 
 
 VANITY FAIR. " We cordially recommend this book to those 
 who know the world of Islam and to those who do not. The 
 former will be pleased to see in an English dress that which 
 they have admired in its Eastern garb ; the latter will be sur- 
 prised to find how much the Mohammedan traditions resemble 
 those which they have been accustomed to revere both in the Old 
 Testament and the New, and to admire in some of the more 
 solemn portions of the ' Arabian Nights?" 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 17 
 
Sir Efcwin Brnolfc's poetical Worfes. 
 
 Post 8vo, pp. viii. and 270, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 INDIAN POETRY: 
 
 CONTAINING "THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS," 
 
 From the Sanskrit of the " Gita Govinda " ofjayadeva; Two 
 
 Books from " The Iliad of India" (Mahdbhdrata\ "Proverbial 
 
 Wisdom" from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa^ 
 
 and other Oriental Poems. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Indian Song of Songs 
 Introduction. 
 Hymn to Vishnu. 
 
 Sarga the First The Sports of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Second The Penitence of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Third Krishna Troubled. 
 Sarga the Fourth Krishna cheered. 
 Sarga the Fifth The Longings of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Sixth Krishna made bolder. 
 Sarga the Seventh Krishna supposed False. 
 Sarga the Eighth The Rebuking of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Ninth The End of Krishna's Trial. 
 Sarga the Tenth Krishna in Paradise. 
 Sarga the Eleventh The Union of Radha and Krishna. 
 
 Miscellaneous Oriental Poems 
 The Rajpoot Wife. 
 King Saladin. 
 The Caliph's Draught. 
 Hindoo Funeral Song. 
 Song of the Serpent Charmers. 
 Song of the Flour-Mill. 
 Taza ba Taza. 
 The Mussulman Paradise. 
 Dedication of a Poem from the Sanskrit. 
 The Rajah's Ride. 
 
 Two Books from the " Iliad of India." 
 The Great Journey. 
 The Entry into Heaven. 
 
 The Night of Slaughter. 
 
 The Morning Prayer. 
 
 Proverbial Wisdom from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa. 
 
Sir E&wfn Brnolfc'0 "3-nMan 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 TIMES. "/ this new volume Sir Edwin Arnold does good 
 service by illustrating, through the medium of his musical 
 English melodies, the power of Indian poetry to stir European 
 emotions. ' The Indian Song of Songs ' is not unknown to 
 scholars. Sir Edwin Arnold will have introduced it among 
 popular English poems." 
 
 MORNING POST. " Complete mastery of the English language, 
 combined with genuine poetic fervour, has enabled the translator 
 of" The Indian Song of Songs* to spread before his readers a 
 feast of dulcet sounds and lyrical language. Music seems to flow 
 from his pen as naturally as rain from the cloud or song from 
 the throat of the thrush? 
 
 STANDARD. " The poem abounds with imagery of Eastern 
 luxuriousness and sensuousness ; the air seems laden with the 
 spicy odours of the tropics, and the verse has a richness and a 
 melody sufficient to captivate the senses of the dullest" 
 
 SCOTSMAN. "Sir Edwin Arnold has translated into English 
 verse, from the original Sanskrit, the ' Gita Govinda, or Song of 
 Govind] a sort of Indian parallel to the Hebrew song so called 
 of Solomon. . . . Sir Edwin Arnold exhibits himself a master of 
 the accomplishment of verse. . . . The volume furnishes an hour's 
 very agreeable and refined poetical reading" 
 
 ACADEMY. "// has been reserved to Sir Edwin Arnold to 
 give us such a version as can convey to the European reader an 
 adequate idea of the beauty of Jayadevds verse. It is the best 
 yet published, and is not likely to be soon surpassed" 
 
 LONDON QUARTERLY REVIEW. " Sir Edwin Arnold has be- 
 stowed his unquestionable poetic talents on a very worthy object 
 in translating the Sanskrit idyll, ' Gita Govindj into English 
 verse. . . . ' The Indian Song of Songs ' is distinctly a new pos- 
 session for the lovers of English exotic poetry" 
 
 OVIIRLAND MAIL. " The translator, while producing a very 
 enjoyable poem, has adhered with tolerable fidelity to the original 
 text? 
 
 THE ENGLISHMAN (CALCUTTA). "/ Sir Edwin Arnold this 
 beautiful composition has found at once an elegant translator. 
 He has contrived to present the ' Song of Songs ' in a dress, while 
 it presences the spirit of the original, that can hardly fail to 
 fascinate the English reader. It has none of the stiffness of a 
 translation, and no more of strangeness than necessarily belongs 
 to Oriental metaphor and imagery? 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 19 
 
Sir B&win arnolfr'g poetical Morfes. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xii. and 294, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 Also Pott 8vo, cloth gilt, or half parchment uncut, price 35. 6d. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF ASIA; 
 
 OR, THE GREAT RENUNCIATION. 
 
 (Mahabhinishkramana.} 
 Being the Life and Teaching of Gautama, Prince of India, and 
 
 Founder of Buddhism. 
 (As told in Verse by an Indian Buddhist.) 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 An ILLUSTRATED EDITION is also published, 
 Small 4to cloth, price 2 is. 
 
 EXTRACT PROM PREFACE. 
 
 " In the following poem I have sought, by the medium of an imaginary 
 Buddhist votary, to depict the life and character and indicate the philosophy 
 of that noble hero and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the founder of 
 Buddhism. 
 
 "A generation ago little or nothing was known in Europe of this great 
 faith of Asia, which had nevertheless existed during twenty-four centuries, 
 and at this day surpasses, in the number of its followers and the area of 
 its prevalence, any other form of creed. Four hundred and seventy millions 
 of our race live and die in the tenets of Gautama ; and the spiritual domi- 
 nions of this ancient teacher extend, at the present time, from Nepaul and 
 Ceylon, over the whole Eastern Peninsula, to China, Japan, Thibet, Cen- 
 tral Asia, Siberia, and even Swedish Lapland. India itself might fairly be 
 included in this magnificent Empire of Belief; for though the profession of 
 Buddhism has for the most part passed away from the land of its birth, 
 the mark of Gautama's sublime teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
 modern Brahmanism, and the most characteristic habits and convictions of 
 the Hindus are clearly due to the benign influence of Buddha's precepts. 
 More than a third of mankind, therefore, owe their moral and religious 
 ideas to this illustrious prince ; whose personality, though imperfectly re- 
 vealed in the existing sources of information, cannot but appear the highest, 
 gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, with one exception, in the history of 
 thought. ... To Gautama has consequently been granted this stupendous 
 conquest of humanity ; and though he discountenanced ritual, and de- 
 clared himself, even when on the threshold of Nirvana, to be only what 
 all other men might become the love and gratitude of Asia, disobeying 
 his mandate, have given him fervent worship. Forests of flowers are daily 
 laid upon his stainless shrines, and countless millions of lips daily repeat 
 the formula, ' I take refuge in Buddha ! ' 
 
 " The Buddha of this poem if, as need not be doubted, he really existed 
 was born on the borders of Nepaul about 620 B.C., and died about 
 543 B.C. at Kusinagara in Oudh. In point of age, therefore, most other 
 creeds are youthful compared with this venerable religion, which has in it 
 the eternity of a universal hope, the immortality of a boundless love, an 
 indestructible element of faith in final good, and the proudest assertion ever 
 made of human freedom. . . . My purpose has been attained if any just 
 conception be here conveyed of the lofty character of this noble prince, and 
 of the general purport of his doctrines." 
 
Sir je&wfii Hrnolfc's "3Li0bt of Hsia," 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 INTERNATIONAL REVIEW (OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES)."// is 
 a 'work of great beauty. It tells a story of intense interest, 'which 
 never flags for a moment ; its descriptions are drawn by the 
 hand of a master with the eye of a poet and the familiarity of 
 an expert with the objects described; its tone is so lofty that 
 there is nothing with which to compare it but the New Testa- 
 ment; it is Jull of variety, now picturesque, now pathetic, 
 now rising into the noblest realms of thought and aspiration; 
 it finds language penetrating, fluent, elevated, impassioned, musi- 
 cal always, to clothe its varied thoughts and sentiments" 
 
 MORNING POST. " Sir Edwin A mold, one of the most musical 
 and thoughtful of modern writers of verse, has given to the 
 world in ' The Light of Asia' a poem which is for many reasons 
 remarkable. . . . Not the least of his merits is that he writes 
 such pure and delicious English. . . . ' The Light of Asia* is a 
 noble and worthy poem? 
 
 SPECTATOR. "Perhaps the only poetic account in a Europeati 
 tongue of an Asiatic faith which is at all adequate, and which 
 seems destined to bring its author a singular fate. It is being 
 translated into Asiatic tongues ; and it is quite possible that 
 two hundred years hence Sir Edwin Arnold, half forgot fen at 
 home, except by students, may amongst the innumerable peoples 
 who profess Buddhism be regarded as a psalmist." 
 
 BOOKSELLER. " The subtle melody of Sir Edwin Arnolds 
 verse, apart Jrom the absorbing interest of his theme, is more 
 than sufficient to account for the sustained favour with which 
 his wonderful poem is regarded? 
 
 CALCUTTA ENGLISHMAN. "/ Sir Edwin Arnold, Indian 
 poetry and Indian thought have at length found a worthy Eng- 
 lish exponent. He brings to his work the facility of a ready pen, a 
 thorough knowledge of his subject, a great sympathy for the people 
 of this country, and a command of public attention at home? 
 
 THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
 
 TIMES. " The volume differs agreeably from most modern 
 editions de luxe in being of a portable size." " 
 
 ATHEN/EUM. "Our notice of the illustrated edition of the 
 ' Light of Asia' may be confined to the neat and careful wood- 
 cuts which illustrate the text almost all Buddhist sculptures 
 selected to suit the poem, some of them being 2000 years old, and 
 representing scenes in the life of Gautama Buddha, the founder 
 of Buddhism and hero of Sir Edwin Arnold's verse." 
 
 SATURDAY REVIEW. "A dmirers of Sir Edwin A mold's suave 
 and melodious verse will welcome the illustrated edition de luxe 
 of the * Light of Asia,' which is handsome in paper and print, 
 and of convenient bulk." 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 21 
 
Sir Bfcwin Hrnolfc's Oriental poetry* 
 
 UNIFORM EDITION, 
 
 The following Eight Volumes may be had, uniform in size 
 and binding, price 2, 8s. Sold only in Sets. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF ASIA; 
 
 OR, THE GREAT RENUNCIATION. 
 
 INDIAN POETRY: 
 
 THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS, &c. 
 
 PEARLS OF THE FAITH; 
 
 OR, ISLAM'S ROSARY. 
 
 INDIAN IDYLLS, 
 
 FROM THE SANSKRIT. 
 
 THE SECRET OF DEATH. 
 
 FROM THE SANSKRIT. 
 
 THE SONG CELESTIAL; 
 
 OR, BHAGAVAD-GITA. From the Sanskrit. 
 
 LOTUS AND JEWEL, 
 
 WITH TRANSLATIONS FROM THE SANSKRIT. 
 
 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 For description of the separate volumes, see previous pages. 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 22 
 
tbe same Hutfoor. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. 324, cloth, price 75. 6d. 
 
 INDIA REVISITED. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 With Thirty-two Full- Page Illustrations, from Photographs 
 selected by the Author. 
 
 "// is beyond all comparison the very best description of 
 India, as it looks to the intelligent European traveller, that ever 
 was written. Numbers of us have seen India as Sir Edwin 
 Arnold saw it; but only a man of genius could have thrown 
 his impressions upon paper in the way that he has done. No 
 one, whether he knows the country or does not know it, will rise 
 from the perusal of the volume without a quickened sense of 
 the vast responsibilities which we have undertaken in India, 
 and a quickened affection for the Indian people? The Right 
 Hon. Sir M. E. GRANT-DuFF, ex-Governor of Madras, in the 
 " Contemporary Review." 
 
 SPECTATOR. "No one who takes it up will lay it down 
 unfinished, and no one will lay it down without knowing that 
 he has obtained something he never possessed before, that he has 
 solidly benefited in some way which even to himself he can 
 hardly explain. ... The reader has seen India, or part of it, as 
 if he had been there himself? 
 
 MORNING POST. " The most graphic account of the peoples, 
 ideas, and aspects of contemporary India which has hitherto been 
 produced." 
 
 ATHEN/EUM. " A series of glowijig word-pictures. The illus- 
 trations, copied seemingly from photographs, are numerous and 
 well-chosen, especially the architectural views? 
 
 BIRMINGHAM DAILY Posy. " We know of no book of so unpre- 
 tending a nature which imparts so much valuable information 
 on India? 
 
 MANCHESTER EXAMINER. " We cannot help unconsciously 
 identifying ourselves, until we almost believe that we are 
 indeed hearing and seeing the things of which we are reading." 
 
 SCOTSMAN. " Written in a charming style. . . . Scenes and 
 characters are brought before the mind with a wondrous reality" 
 
 ASIATIC QUARTERLY REVIEW. " The perusal of Sir Edwin 
 Arnold* s pages is an intellectual and humanising treat? 
 
 INDIAN DAILY NEWS (CALCUTTA). "Those of us who have had 
 experience of Indian life can follow him, and live our lives 
 again in his pages? 
 
 TIMES OF INDIA. " A charming book? 
 
 LONDON : TRUBNER CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 23 
 
tbe same Hutbor. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. 62, cloth, price is. 6d. ; paper, is. 
 
 DEATH-AND AFTERWARDS. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. 
 
 Reprinted, with Supplementary Comments, from the 
 Fortnightly Review. 
 
 MORNING POST. "Its views are novel, and often consoling, 
 and the manner in which they are expressed has the refined 
 grace of all which proceeds from Sir Edwin Arnold's pen" 
 
 GLOBE. " There is much matter for rejection in these thought- 
 ful pages" 
 
 ECHO. " Profoundly interesting." 
 
 WESTMINSTER REVIEW. "Has no doubt been read with plea- 
 sure by many" 
 
 MANCHESTER GUARDIAN. "A notable essay on the problem of 
 immortality. . . . Sir Edwin Arnold's booklet is likely to attract 
 attention" 
 
 BRISTOL MERCURY. " There are, undoubtedly ', many original 
 and quaint ideas set forth in the book" 
 
 ABERDEEN DAILY FREE PRESS. " This subtle and suggestive 
 essay on the immortality of the soul, by one of the most cultured 
 of living poets . . . is inspired by a pure and emphatic faith, 
 based on thorough scholarship and poetic insight" 
 
 BRITISH WEEKLY. "Sir Edwin Arnold has been wisely 
 advised in reprinting from the Fortnightly Review his article, 
 'Death and Afterwards.' It effectually breaks windows 
 through the prison walls which materialism and unbelief build 
 around us, and suffers us to breathe an ampler air. Nothing 
 could surpass these few pages in felicity of statement or in 
 persuasiveness. " 
 
 LONDON: TRUBNER CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 24 
 
AN INITIAL FINE OF 
 
 25 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY