V J^ nia THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / ^ « « DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI, Whose Eaely Friendship Bbightened many Days of my Life, AND whom I never CAN FORGET. W. A. 811330 y CONTENTS. FLOWER PIECES. FLOWERS AND MONTHS. PAGE DAISY ---.... 3 SNOWDROP ------- 4 DAFFODIL ----... 5 PRIMROSE ----... 6 HAWTHORN ---... 7 WILD ROSE ------ 8 HONEYSUCKLE ---... 9 MEADOWSWEET - - - - - - 10 HEATHER ------- 11 IVY ....... 12 CHRYSANTHEMUM - - - - - - 13 GORSE ----... 14 FLOWERS AND POETS. PRELUDE - - - - - - - 16 WALLFLOWER - - - - - - 17 HONEYSUCKLE - - - - - - 17 BOSES ---.-.. 18 AGAVE ------- 19 HYACINTH - - - - - - - 19 EGY'PTIAN LOTOS - - - - - - 20 SWEETBRIAR - - - - - - 20 BLUEBELL OF SCOTLAND - - - - - 21 JASMIN - • - - - - - 21 TIGER-LILY - - - - - 22 GARLANDS - - - - - - - 23 POSTSCRIPT - - - - - - 25 TO EARINE - - - - - - - 26 WAY'SIDE FLOWERS - - - - - 28 THE CHOICE - - - - - - 29 IN A GARDEN - - - - - - 31 AT A ■\VINDO^V - - - - - - 32 vni CONTENTS. DAY AND NIGHT SONGS. I'Af: E 'THESE LITTLE SONT.S ' - - . . . ,'j(5 SPRING. THE LOVER AND UIRUS - - - - .37 A HOLIHAY - - - - - - 39 IN A Sl'IilXC GROVE - - - - - 40 THE LirrLE DELL - - - - - - 41 A SEED - - - - - . - 4.3 A VEHXAL VOLUNTARY - - - - - 44 BY THE MOKNIXG SEA - - - - - 47 'FOIK DUCKS ON A POND* - - - - 48 WINDLASS SONG - - - - - - 49 THE FIELDS IN MAY - - - - - 50 SPRING IS COME - - - - - - 52 A RAINBOW - - - - . - 54 ACROSS THE SEA - - - - - - 56 SUMMER. THE MOWEKS .... - 57 ON THE SUNNY SHORE - - - - - ,'J9 THE WAYSIDE WELL - - . - 60 HALF-DREAMING - - - . - - 62 EVEY - - - . - - - 63 AN EVENING - - - - . - 64 THE QUEEN OF THE FOREST - - . - 65 IN A BROKEN TOWER - . - - - 67 AFTER SUNSET - - - - . - (jD IN THE DUSK - - . - - - 70 ^OLIAN HARP: 'O PALE GREEN SEA* - - 71 ON THE TWILIGHT POND - - . - - 72 UNKNOWN BELOV'd ONE - - - - - 73 SERENADE - - - - . - - 74 A UTUMN. AUTUMNAL SONNET - - - . - 75 -4:0LIAN HARP: 'HEAR YOU NOW ' - - - 76 -*:OLIAN HARP: ' W ILVT IS IT THAT IS GONE?' - - 78 AWAKING - - - - - - - 79 AN AUTUMN EVENING - . - - - tjO CONTENTS. ix PAGE EOBIN EEDBREAST- - - . - - 82 THE SHOOTING ST4R - - - . - 84 THE VALLEY STREAM - - - - - 85 SOLUS 86 ^OLIAN HARP : ' WHAT SAITH THE RIVER V - . 87 LATE AUTUMN - - - . . - 89 TWO MOODS - - - - . - 90 TWILIGHT VOICES - - - - - - 92 A GRAVESTONE - - - - - - 94 95 WINTER. ' O HOW DIMLY ' BARE TWIGS - - - - - - 96 FOOTSTEPS - - - - - - - 97 ^OLIAN HARP : ' IS IT ALL IN VAIN ?' - - - 99 THE LIGHTHOUSE - - - - - - 100 NIGHTWIND ---... 102 ANGELA - - - - - . - 103 ON THE LONGEST DAY - - - - - 105 THE WINTER PEAR ----- 106 HALF-WAKING --.... 107 WINTER CLOUD - - - - - - 108 FROST IN THE HOLIDAYS - - - - - 109 'the boy FROM HIS BEDROOM-WINDOW ' - - HI 'OH ! WERE MY LOVE ' - . - - . 112 SONG : ' O SPIRIT OF THE SUMMERTIME !' - - 113 RISING OF JUPITER - - - - - 114 WINTER VERDURE- - - - - 117 EVENING PRAYER - - - - . - 118 BALLADS, Etc. LADY ALICE -.-.-. 121 KING henry's hunt - - - - - 124 THE TOUCHSTONE ------ 127 THREE FLOWERS -----. 129 THE WONDROUS WELL - - - - . 131 BLACK NIGHl' - - - - - - 132 THE POOR LITTLE MAIDEN - - - - 133 ST. biargaret's eve - - - - - 135 THISTLEDOWN - - - - - - 137 X CONTENTS. PACE THE HriiiiLK ...... i;v.) THE 1)1 KTY OLD MAN - - - - 140 VKNCS OF THE NEEDLE ..... 143 THE WITCH-HKIDE THE ULLAISY 14*.» 151 154 156 Ito 14r. KDIJGET ME NOT - - - - " 1^7 THE OLD SE.XTON - - - - - SQUIRE CURTIS ..... EMILY ....-- THE BULL ------ THK M.VIDS OF ELFIN-MERE - - - -159 MAKY - - - - - - - 1(31 TOWER AND FIELD - - - - - 163 THE FAITHLESS KNIGHT ----- 165 SIR HUGH DE LA POLE - - - - " '^^ DOWN ON THE SHORE . - - - 170 OUTWARD BOUND ------ 171 HOMEWARD BOUND - - - - ' i~ THE SLAVE SHIP - - - - - • j^4 nanny's sailor lad - - - - 175 cape ushant - - - - - 177 the pilot b0.\t .----- 17!) TRANSLATED OR ADAPTED. THE SAILOR ...... 183 KOST.\S - - - - - - 185 THE FISHERMAN - - - - - - 187 THE queen's page . . . - . l.S'J TO THE TETTIX ----- 190 FLOWER PIECES. ' Beaidij too is infinife.' Flower Pieces and other Poems by William AUingham, with two de- signs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. JVofe. — ' The Maids of Elfinmere ' woodcut has for some years been very rare and much sought after. The copies now pubHshed are all that remain from the original print- ing, those on large paper being selected impressions. ' The Queen's Page ' has never before been made public : the cir- cumstances in which it was designed are described in the volume. FLOWER PIECES. FLOWERS AND MONTHS, I. DAISY. DAISY— ' Day's Eye '—on this New Year's Day Opening thy circlet on our grassy mount To greet the low-arch'd Sun far south-away, As mystically perfect each small ray As the vast billow of light and life whose fount, Glorious beyond conception, yet doth count Only as one flow'r in God's garden, — yea, Face, little Bloom, our King-Orb, front to front. Ye both are creatures of one substance wrought In deeps beyond our subtlest exploration. Thence into living form and due relation Lifted by power that works in beauty : nought So made but with its home too in Man's thousrht. Microcosm of the whole divine creation. 1—2 FLOWERS AND MONTHS. II. SNOWDROP. {In Time of irar.) Fair IMaid of Fdn-iuiry — droji of snow Enchanted to a tlow'r, and tluTewitliin A dream of April's green — who without sin Conceived wast, but how no man may know ; I would thou mightest, being of licavenly kin, Pray for us all (tliy lips are pure, altho' The soil be soak'd with tears and blood), to win Some ruth for human folly, guilt and woe. A flitting phantasy and fond conceit ! Yet mark this little white-green bell, three-cleft, Nor say of miracles the Earth's bereft. Lo, for our comfort, here is one complete : And aft(;r this the whole new spring-time left, And all the roses that make summer sweet. FLOWERS AND MONTHS. III. DAFFODIL. Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn, Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill And every valley rings — O Daffodil ! What promise for the season newly born ? Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn, O'ertiow the world, then fruited Autumn fill Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn 1 Tantarrara ! the joyous Book of Spring Lies open, writ in blossoms ; not a bird Of evil augury is seen or heard : Come now, like Pan's old crew we'll dance and sing, Or Oberon's ; for hill and valley ring To March's- bugle-horn, — Earth's blood is stirr'd. FLOWERS AND MONTHS. IV. PRIMROSE. The rancour of the East Wind qucllM, a thrush Joyfully talkini^ on througli i^Iittering rain, see the yellow tufts along the lane, Crowding the copse round ever}'^ budded bush, Dotting the dingle by its brooklet's gush, And elm-path's mossy border, — who not fain To drink their tender sweetness, cool and fresh, The very breath of Spring, return'd again t The Child's Flow'r, in the childhood of the year : Our slopes and woods ])Ut yesterday were drear ; Now all the country breaks into a smile Of Primroses, and Youth is full of cheer ; This fragrant vernal breeze in some, the while. Waking olil thoughts, unutterably dear. FLOWERS AND MONTHS. HAWTHORN. A GREEN world, prankt with flow'rs, and fill'd with songs ; And if our woodlands have their own May-Queen, Surely to thee, fair May, this crown belongs, "With cluster'd pearls upon thy robe of green, And broideries of white bloom ; or all one sheen Thou and thy maidens, Avorshipp'd by the throngs In various verdure — tho' sad Yew is seen Still with the black cloak round his ancient wrongs. Soft winds o'er sunlit grass bear news of thee. Blue, darkening, feels the moonrise. Then, elate Thy coaxing Nightingales whose love is great For thee, sweet Thorn, not sharp as feign'd to be, Call hearts and lips — -how loth to separate ! — Into the shadow of the trysting-tree. 8 FLOWERS AND MONTHS \1. WILD KOSE. So]\rE innocent girlish Kisses by a oliavm Cliangiid to ii flight of small pink IJutterflies, To ^\aver under June's delicious skies Across gold-sprinkled meads — the merry swarm A smiling powerful word did next transform To little lioses mesh'd in green, allies Of earth and air, and everything we prize For mirthful, gentle, delicate, and warm. See, Rosie ! sure thy sister-flow'r it is (Bum Sylredris one hath named thee well) ; Methinks I could imagine gloomy Dis AVhirling you, with a Avildrose wreath, to — dwell In Hades. Only one thing sweet as this, One thing — come closer — nay, I'll never tell ! FLOWERS AND MONTHS. VII. HONEYSUCKLE. First a cloud of fragrance. Then one sees Coronets of ivory, coral, and gold, Full of luscious treasure for the bees, In their hedgerow-wreathage manifold Clustering, or outswinging at their ease, Watching in the hayfield those who hold Scythe and rake, or overpeering bold Dusty wayfarers 'twixt roadside trees. Honeysuckle-scented Summer Night I Leaves above and dewy woods around, Save the purring nightjar not a sound, Save the tender glowina; stars no lie-ht, — Thou hast hid thy lovers out of sight, Bower'd, or wandering through enchanted ground. 10 FLOWERS AND MONTHS. VIII. MEADOWSWEET. Throuch grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream — Fringod with its flags and roeils and rushes tall, And Meadow-sweet, the chosen from them all By wandering children, yellow as the cream Of those great cows — winds on as in a dream By mill and footbridge, handet old and small (Red roofs, gray tower), and sees tlie sunsft gleam On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall. There, once upon a time, the heavy King Trod out its jjerfume from the Meadowsweet, Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet, In stately dance or jovial l)anqueting, When all was new ; and in its wayfaring Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat. FLOWERS AND MONTHS. 1 I IX. HEATHER. Vast barren hills and moors, cliffs over lakes, Great headlands by the sea — a lonely land ! With Fishers' huts beside a yellow strand Where wave on wave in foam and thunder breaks, Or else a tranquil blue horizon takes Sunlight and shadow. Few can understand The poor folk's ancient tongue, sweet, simple, grand. Wherein a dreamy old-world half awakes. And on these hills a thousand years ago Their fathers wander'd, sun and stars for clock. With minds to wing above and creep below ; Heard what we hear, the ocean's solemn shock, — Saw what we see, this Heather- flow'r aglow, Empurpling league-long slope and crested rock. 12 FLOWKIIS AM) MONTHS. X. IVY. OuEEN leaves, green flow'rs, green berries, gothic fret Ot" woven green, from year to century, — On ground, wall, wayside, mountain-crag, old tree, In town or wilderness, the living net Of Ivy richly clothes bare povert}'. Adds to the stateliest house a beauty yet, Pathos to ruia'd arch and parapet, With cottage, church-tower, tomb, can well agree. No luck misfits thee, Ivy, great or mean, Mirthful or solemn ; riglit for Pluto's bower, Bacchus's jolly garland. Now, seren<>. You WL'lcome winter, choose for time to flower The misty month when most things croucli and cower. Green is Youth's colour. Hail, Prince Evergreen ! FLOWERS AND MONTHS. 13 XI. CHRYSANTHEMUM. The rustic family of Oxeyes claim A royal Cousin, clad in purple and gold, Pearl, ruby, fleecy colours such as fold The couching sun, and with a lofty name, Chrysanthemum — appearing bright and bold To startle poor November with a flame Of sumptuous flowerage, making summer tame. And flush with Eastern pomp the dark and cold. Voyager from Japan and broad Cathay, The slant-eyed Yellow People love thee much (All Humans love a flow'r), and know the way To iix their garden favourite with fine touch In shapes of art : how joyful we to clutch Their gifts — but shall we clasp their hands one day 11 FLOWERS AND MONTHS. XII. GORSE. Bloom of the Common, common bloom, gold honey, Sweet like a healthy life in every season, Nature still grows thee, Gorse, regales her bees on Stretches of Knglish land, wide, windy, sunny, Free from tiie fetters of that monster, Money, Big with delusive promise full of treason ; Harbours the wren, the furzeling, and the coney, Feeds goose and ass there, — .Soul too, lord of reason, Wild wealth of merry May, of dim December ! Swedish Linnauis fell U]>on his knees To thank with joy the Everliving Power (No scraps of lore forbade him to remember) Giving such wondious beauty to a Flower, To Man the beautydoving eye that sees. FLOWER PIECES. 25 FLOWERS AND POETS. Long years ago these Flowers were cull'd, ^ Enhvining gentle Names: By younger hands he others pull'd 2'o garland other fames. 16 FLOWERS AND POETS, PRELUDE. Likeness, ofter fouml than sought Or by wit's exertion wrouglit, Here 'tween two delights exprest, Li the various tinge is Jrest Playing on it from attection's .Sympathizing recollections. When you tinurouche you'd been, If there should ray through the forest gloom edge, lender tlie jungle-grass's white plumage, Two sudden stars of fierce red hre Just in front, and nigher and nigher Crawling, you saw — and those eyes unwinking Tied you from running, upheld you from sinking, Till the claw'd yellow JStrenglh all swarthy liai'r'il, With that serpenting tail stretched still' and hard ►Should crash Our gentle garden-border, Can it feed us with fancies of murder ? Lily that set us oft" on such freaks liich with dark splendid spots and streaks, A crown on a sceptre— blame you 1 or else us ? Surely not him ! — but see ' Paracelsus.' FLOWERS AND POETS. 23 GARLANDS. In idle shade to mark them one by one We may not loiter, for the waning hours Through garden, field, and woodland haste us on, To match no meaner flowers. This Passion-Flow'r, the delicate and strange And dim, as though half-faded into air By enchantment, or awaiting some high change. Let none hut Coleridge wear. Midst quaintly crumpled leaves the Violet Hides close and warm its tufts of sweetness blue, For Hood ; — and if his flower be softly wet, Say, is it more than due ? Aspiring, shrinking, Lily of the Vale, The word ' Elizabeth ' is faintly toll'd From all thine arching chime of silver pale In dark green turret- fold. Run, children ! run away to Mary Howitt With early Primrose-bunches and a song. To Barnes (true poet, if not many know it) Let Apple-bloom belong. ' The milk-white Thorn ' where ploughmen at mid- day And lovers in the friendly gloaming sit, And every wild-bird brings its sweetest lay, For whom but Burns is fit 1 Geranium, thou, methinks, for Emerson ; The choice and home-familiar, featly blent, Mystical naivety, fresh antiqueness, run Through shape, fine hues, and scent, 24 FLOWERS AND POETS. And Thomas CAiu.ylk — think yon lin lioing named Among the Muse's children, 'twould iitiVnd her t < )r Queen of Flow'rs refuse the Cactus claim'd For ruggeduess and splendour 1 The shadows fall : so, tjuickly as we may. We touch for Heurick, never sad or cold, This Meadowsweet that borders fields of hay ; For CiiAi'MAX, Marygold : The flaming Peony with Marlowe mate ; The Rhododendron give to Dryden's charge ; To Bex the Dahlia, liurly-elaborate. Iris to holy George. Lavender, Quarles ; Sweet-William's honest face, Marvel; John Fletcher must Convolvulus get ; TurE the Camellia, nursed for lamplight grace; Goldsmith the Mignonette. *o' The dark sward's spirts of early Crocus flame, Purpurc, and Or, and Argent, do thou take, Boy CHATiEirroN ; and ' crown'd with a golde:i dream,' This angel Lily, Blake. Elliott's, a Foxglove from the Yorkshire fells ; This double Cowslip must be Cowper's right ; Hemans's Gillyflower; and L. E. L.'s, Anemone, the white. Eich Pansy, gravely * freakt.' to Wordsworth goes ; To Byron, Sunflower ; Moore, the gay Sweet-Pea, FIowcr-lMitterfly ; where Southey's blazon grows In Garden Poppy see. FLOWERS AND POETS. 25 Give Hogg the Wild Tliyme from a faiiy knowe ; And Eamsay, Broom ; and Allan Cunnincjhajsi Scotch Whin ; and Clare the Buttercup. Allow -: For Daisy, Bloo.mfield's claim. May Landor not disdain thee, Asphodel ! Ah, Edgar Poe, the Dwale. the Dwale's thine own. Methinks the wholesome Heather suits thee well, Brave Irish Ferguson. Campbell, the choice Auricula is thine. Cultured, compact ; the Hollyhock's firm pride Macaulay's ; Double Rocket, hearty and fine. For Clough we lay aside. Light melts from heav'n. Our curfew be the same As folds the latest of these happy clans. New bridals may another day proclaim, And none forbid the banns ! POSTSCRIPT. Once (oh, not immodest deem Your friend, if he relate his dream) Fast asleep as I was laid In translucent summer shade, Flora came, and stooping down, Bless'd me also with a crown, For adding, over all her dowers. One new sweetness to the Flowers. Woven of what bloom or leaf Never knew I : to my grief, When I lifted hand to head Swift th' unreal honour fled. 26 FLOWER PIECES. TO EAKIX^. ' Earing, ' Who had luT very being', ant.anty too is infinite. AT A WINDOW. To Search the rouml Earth, and TToavons afar, Man is the highest tliini; you find : Yet all the puwers of all mankind Drawn to a point, could never make One scented little Ja'^min-Star Of these that hy oui' window shake As stirs the fitful evening wind, Showing, in purple depth between The frondage, Sirius glancing keen. Look back into the twilight room. And sec amid the tender gloom Our favourite Picture glimmering rich, Our dear Greek Goddess in her niche, Our fifty ]iriceless Books a-row, And !Music where she mildly waits To open with a toucli Heaven's gates. Say hath not Art, man's proper power. Its world of miracles to show 1 The boundless Avorld of star and flower, All that exists, above, below. FLOWER PIECES. 33 Is chaos, blind and deaf and dumb, Until within the Soul it come (That essence of its gross), perceive Itself at last, and instant weave A Universe of Beauty, wrought Of interflow, within, without, — Soul's joy : which in its own fine ways Art expresses and conveys. How Nature hides her music-tones ! IMore deeply than her precious stones. How we have found and set them ! Nay, To-night, Love, do not sing or play, But improvise — A Starry Night, And Beautii too is infinite : Its source the Loving Soul, a Face Like yours its choicest dwelling-place. DAY AXD XIGHT SONGS. 3—2 TITESr-: little Songs, Found liL-rc and there. Floating in air By forest and lea, Or hill-side heather, In houses and throngs, Or down 1))' the sea — Have come together, How, I can't tell : But I know full well No witty goose-wing On an inkstand begot 'em ; Eemeniber each iilace And moment of grace, In summer or spring, "Winter or autumn. By sun, moon, stars. Or a coal in the l)ars, In market or church, Graveyard or dance, "When they came without search, Were found as l)y chance. A word, a line, You may say ai"c mine : But the best in the songs, "Whatever it be, To you, and to me. And to no one belongs. DAY AND NIGHT .SONGS. 37 SPBIXG. THE LOVER AND BIRDS. TITITHIX a budding grove, ' ' In April's ear sang every bird his best, But not a song to pleasure my unrest, Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love. Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest. To every word Of every bird I listen'd, and replied as it behove. Scream'd Chaffinch, 'Sweet, sweet, sweet! Pretty lovey, come and meet me here !' ' Chathnch,' quoth I, ' be dumb awhile, in fear Thy darling prove no better than a cheat, And never come, or fly when Avintry days appear. ' Yet from a twiir With voice so big, . The little fowl his utterance did repeat. Then I, ' The man forlorn Hears Earth send up a foolish noise aloft.' ' And what'll he do 1 what'll he do V scoffd The Blackbird, standing in an ancient thorn, Then spread his sooty wings and flitted to the croft With cacklinsf lauch : Whom I, being half Enraged, call'd after, giving back his scorn 38 SPRING. ■\Vorse niock'd tho Thrush, ' Die ! die ! Oh, could he do it 1 could he do it 1 !Nay '. Be quick ! be quick ! Here, here, here !' (went his lay) 'Take heed! take heed!' then, 'Why? why? why ? why ? why ? Sec— ee now ! see — ee now !' (he drawl'd). ' Back ! back ! back ! K-r-r-run away !' O Thrush, be still ! Or, at thy will, Seek some less sad interpreter than I. ' Air, air ! blue air and white ! "Whither I flee, whither, whither, O whither I flee!' (Thus the Lark hurried, mounting from the lea) ' Hills, countries, many waters glittering bright, Whither I sec, whither I see ! deeper, deeper, deeper, whither I see, see, see !' ' Gay Lark,' I said, ' The song that's bred In happy nest may well to heaven make flight.' ' There's something, something sad, I half remember ' — piped a broken strain. ^^■ell sung, sweet Kobin ! liobin sung again, ' Spring's opening cheerily, cheerily ! be we glad !' Which moved, I wist not why, me melancholy mad, Till now, grown meek, With wetted cheek, Most comforting and gentle thoughts I had. SPRING. 39 A HOLIDAY. Out of the city, far avray With Spring to-day ! Where copses tufted \yith primrose Give me repose, Wood-sorrel and wild violet Soothe my soul's fret, The pure delicious vernal air Blows away care, The birds' reiterated songs Heal fancied wrongs. Down the rejoicing brook my grief Drifts like a leaf, And on its gently murmuring flow Doth glide and go ; The bud-besprinkled boughs and hedges, The sprouting sedges Waving beside the water's brink. Come like cool drink To fever'd lips, like fresh soft mead To kiue that feed. Much happier than the kine, I bed IM}^ dreaming head In grass ; I see far mountains blue, Like heaven in view, Green world and sunny sky above Alive "with love ; All, all, however came they there, Diviuelv fair. 40 SPRING. Is this the better oracle, Or what streets tell ? base confusion, falsehood, strife, Man puts in life ! Sinlc, thou Life-jNIeasurer ! — I can say 'I've lived a day;' And j\Iemory holds it now in keeping, Awake or sleeping. IN A SPEING GEOVE. Here the white-ray'd anemone is born, AVood-sorrel, and the varnisli'd buttercup ; And primrose in its purfled green swathed u[). Pallid and sweet round every budding thorn, Gray ash, and beech with rusty leaves outworn. Here, too, the darting linnet has her nest In the blue-lustred holly, never shorn, Whose partner cheers her little brooding breast, I 'i ping from some near bough. simple song ! O cistern deep of that harmonious rillet, And these fair juic}^ stems that climl) and throng The vernal world, and unexhausted seas Of flowing life, and soul that asks to fill it. Each and all these, — and more, and more than these ! SPRING. 41 THE LITTLE DELL. Doleful was the land, Dull on every side, Neither soft nor grand, Barren, Ijleak, and wide ; Nothing look'd with love ; All was dingy brown ; The very skies above Seem'd to sulk and frown. Plodding sick and sad. Weary day on day ; Searching, never glad, Many a miry way ; Poor existence lagg'd In this barren place ; While the seasons dracg'd Slowly o'er its face. Spring, to sky and ground. Came before I guess'd : Then one day I found A valley, like a nest ! Guarded with a spell Sure it must have been. This little fairy dell Which I had never seen. 42 SPRING. Open to the blue, Green banks liemm'd it round A rillct waiuler'd through With a tinkhng sound ; Briars among tlie rocks Tangled arbours made ; Primroses in Hocks Grew beneath their shade. ]\Ierry birds a few, Creatures wildly tame, Perch'd and sung and Hew ; Timid field-mice came ; Beetles in the moss Journey'd here and there ; Butterflies across Danced through sunlit air. •o' There I often redd, Sung alone, or dream'd ; Blossoms overhead, Where the west wind stream'd Small horizon-line. Smoothly lifted up, Held this world of mine In a grassy cup. The barren land to-day Hears my last adieu : Not an hour I stay ; Earth is wide and new. Vet, farewell, farewell ! May the sini and show'rs Bless that Little Dell Of safe and tranijuil hours ! SPRING. 43 A SEED. See hoAA' a Seed, which Autumn flung down, And through the AVinter neglected lay, Uncoils two little green leaA'es and two brown, "NA'ith tiny root taking hold on the clay, As, lifting and strengthening day by day, It pushes red branchlets, sprouts new leaves, And cell after cell the Power in it weaves Out of the storehouse of soil and clime, To fashion a Tree in due course of time ; Tree with rough bark and boughs' expansion, "Where the CroAv can build his mansion. Or a Man, in some new May, Lie under whispering leaves and say, ' Ai-e the ills of one's life so very bad When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad T As I do nov/. But where shall I be When this little Seed is a tall green Tree 1 44 SPRING. A VERNAL VOLUNTARY. Come again, dcliglitful Spring, Hasten, if you love us ; Let your woodbine-garland swing, Vault the blue aljove us ! Nay, already she is here : Stealthy laughters quiver Tln-ough the ground, the atmosphere, \Vood, and bubbling river. Sweet the herald west wind blows, Green peeps out from melting snows ; Snowdro})-tlow'r, and crocus, dawn With datibdil around the lawn ; Their bushy rods the sallows gild ; The clamorous rooks begin to build, Watch the farmer dig and sow In his miry fields below, Gravely follow in the furrows Picking where his plough unburrows. Pearl-white lambkins frisk and bleat Or kneeling tug the kindly teat ; The roguish rat is cree]>ing nigh His darksome cavern ; low and high, Through sun-gleam or soft rainy gloom, Like children coursing every room Of a new house, the swallows glance, Wafted over Spain and France From the sultry solemn Nile's Mysterious lakes of crocodiles, And the desert-lion's roar, To a greener gentler shore. Native lark fronr stair to stair Of brilliant cloud and azure air SPRING. 45 Mounts to the morning's top, and sings His merry hymns on tremljling -wings, Tireless, till the cressets liigh Twinkle down from cooler sky. AVhat beholds he on this earth ? A rising tide of love and mirth. — And was it I who lately said, 'Mirth is fled, and Love is dead,' For chill and darkness on the day. As on my weak and weary spirit lay 'I AVelcome, every breeze and show'r 3 Sun that courts the blossom ; Every new delicious flow'r Heap'd for Maia's bosom ! Every bird ! — no bird alone, Alwaj's two together ; Spring inspiring every tone, Flushing every feather. Verdure's tufted on the briar Like crockets of a minster-spire ; Free sprouts the youngling corn ; a light Is on the hills ; dim nooks grow bright In blossom ; now with scent and sight And song, the childhood of the year Kenews our own ; avc see and hear, We drink the fragrance, as of yore, — A gleam, a thrill, a breath, no more. Away, dull musing ! who are these Under the fresh-leaved linden trees ? Three favourite Children of the Spring, AVho lightly run, as half on wing, Dorothy, Alicia, Mary; Over moorlands wide and airy, 46 SPRING. Deep in dells of early Uow'rs, They have been abroad for hours, Flow'rs themselves, and fairer yet Than primrose, windtlow'r, violet, Or even June's wild-rose to come. Frost never touch their opening bloom The tender fearless life to check ! — Alicia's hat is on her neck, With Hying curls and glowing face And ringing laugh, she wins the race ; Her eyes were made for sorrow's cure. And doubts of Heav'n to reassure. V^eils of fresh and fragrant rain Sinking over the green plain. Founts of suimy beams that lie Scatter'd through the vernal sky, The million-fokl expanding wood.s. Are less delightful than these children's moods. 'Tis not life, to pine and cloy ; Sickness utters treason ; Best they live, who best enjoy Every good in season. Glad, with moisten'd eyes, I learn April's own caressing : Chililrcn, every month in turn Bring you three a blessing ! SPRING. 47 BY THE MOENING SEA. The wind shakes up the sleepy clouds To kiss the ruddied Morn, And from their awful misty shrouds The Mountains are new-born : The Sea lies fresh with open eyes ; Night-fears and moaning dreams Brooding like clouds on nether skies, Have sunk below, and beams Dance on the floor like golden flies, Or strike with joyful gleams Some white-wing'd ship, a wandering star Of Ocean, piloting afar. In brakes, in woods, in cottage eaves, The early birds are rife. Quick voices thrill the sprinkled leaves In ecstasy of life ; With silent gratitude of flow'rs The morning's breath is sweet, And cool with dew, that freshly show'rs Round wild things' hasty feet; But heavenly guests of tranquil hours To inner skies retreat. From human thoughts of lower birth That stir upon the waking earth. 48 SPRIXG. Across a thousand leagues of land The niij^hty Sun looks free, And in their fringe of rock and sand A thousand leagues of sea. Lo ! I, in this majestic room, Real as the niiglity Sun, Inherit this day and its doom Eternally begun. A world of men the rays illume, God's men, and I am one. But life that is not pure and bold Doth tarnish every morning's gold. Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing To remember for years — To remember with tears ! SPRING. 49 WINDLASS SONG. Heave at the windlass !— Heave 0, cheerly, men ! Heave all at once, with a will ! The tide quickly making, Our cordage a-creaking, The water has put on a frill, Heave ! Fare you well, sweethearts ! — Heave 0, cheerly, men ! Fare you well, frolic and sport ! The good ship all ready, Each dog-vane is steady, The wind blowing dead out of port. Heave ! Once in blue water — Heave O, cheerly, men ! Blow it from north or from south ; She'll stand to it tightly, And curtsey politely. And carry a bone in her mouth, Heave ! Short cruise or long cruise — Heave 0, cheerly, men ! Jolly Jack Tar thinks it one. No latitude dreads he Of AYhite, Black, or Red Sea, G-reat icebergs, or tropical sun. Heave ! One other turn, and Heave 0, cheerly, men ! Heave, and good-bye to the shore ! Our money, how went it 1 We shared it and spent it ; Next year we'll come back with some more. Heave ! 00 SPRING. THE FIELDS IX MAY. What can better please, ^^'hen your mind is well at ease, Than a walk among the green fields in May 1 To see the verdure new, And to hear the loud cuckoo, While sunshine makes the whole world gay : When the butterfly so brightly On his journey dances lightly, And the bee goes by with business-like hum ; When the fragrant breeze and soft Stirs the shining clouds aloft, And the children's hair, as laughingly they come When the grass is full of flowers, And the hedge is full of bowers, And the finch and the linnet piping clear, ^\'here the branches throw their shadows On a footway through the meadows, With a brook among the cresses winding near. Any pair of lovers walking On this footway in sweet talking, Sweeter silence, often linger and delay, For the path, not very wide. Brings tlicm closer, side by side, Moving gently through the happy fields of May : SPRING. 51 Till they rest themselves awhile At the elm-o'ershaded stile, When stars begin to tremble in the blue, Just to hear a ni£;htinc;ale, Near our village in the vale, To his sweetheart singing carols fond and true : Evening wind, and brooklet's flow, Softly whisper as they go. Every star throbs with tenderness above ; Tender lips are sure to meet, Heart to heart must warmly beat. When the earth is full and heaven is full of love. Oh, I would the song I sine; Might to me a sweetheart bring. For companion through the green fields of May ! She should nestle in my heart, And we never more should part, While the summers and the winters roll'd away. 4—2 52 SPRINCi. SPRING IS COME. Ye coax the timid verdure, Along the lulls of Spring, Blue skies and gentle breezes, And soft clouds wandering ! The quire of birds on Ijudding spray, Loud larks in ether sing ; A fresher pulse, a wider day, Give joy to everything. The gay translucent morning Lies glittering on the sea, The noonday spriiddes shadows Athwart the daisied lea ; The round sun's falling scarlet rim In vapour hideth he ; The darkling hours are cool and dim, As vernal night should be. Our Earth has not grown aged. With all her countless years ; She works, and never wearies. Is glad, and nothing fears : The glow of air, broad land and wave, in season re-appears; And shall, when vanish in the grave These human smiles and tears. SPRING. 53 Oh, rich in songs and colours, Thou joy-reviving Spring ! Some hopes are chill'd with winter Whose term thou canst not bring, Some voices answer not thy call When sky and woodland ring, Some faces come not back at all With primrose-blossoming. The distant-flying swallow, The upward-yearning seed, Find Nature's promise faithful, Attain their humble meed. C-reat Parent ! Thou hast also form'd These hearts which throb and bleed ; With love, truth, hope, their life hast warm'd, And what is best, decreed. 54 sPKixo A RAINBOW. Cloud rolls iq) from the west, Blotting the sun in the sky ; Rain pours down from its breast, Stone nor leaf is dry. Cloud rolls off to the east, Sun shines out afresh ; All things, greatest and least, Laugh in a diamond mesh. Vast arch springs from the plain, Lovelj', of seven-fold hue, Built by the sun and rain ; Melting swiftly from view. Sol, that painter of ]iow'r, Shows on his palette there The colours of every flow'r, Of earth, of sea, and of air. It is not seen of the l)irds That hop and flutter and trill, Or the placidly grazing herds, Or the Hock of sheep on the hill. SPRING. 55 Storm, shadow, and ray Triumph and disappear; Hour melts into day, Day melts into year. Force changes and flows ; Nothing is lost or spilt. Soul, who art watching these shows, Kate thyself as thou wilt, Curve and colours are thine, Thine are the eyes to see : Natural, human, divine, This is of Heaven and of Thee. -ft a iM tir 5G SPRING, ACROSS THE SEA. I walk'd ill the lonesome evening, And who so sad as I, When I saw the young men and maidens Merrily passing by. To thee, my Love, to thee — So fain would I come to thee ! While the ripjjles fold upon sands of gold, And I look across the sea. I stretch out my luuuls; who will clasp them I I call, — thou repliest no word : Oh, why should heart-longing be weaker Than the waving wings of a bird ! To thee, my Love, to thee — So fain would I come to thee ! For the tide's at rest from east to west, And I look across the sea. There's joy in the hopeful morning, There's peace in the parting day, There's sorrow with every lover Whose true-love is far away. To thee, my Love, to thee — So fain would I come to thee ! Antl the water's Ijright in a still moonlight, As I look across the sea. 'o' DAY AND NIGHT SONGS. 57 ^^ SUMMER. THE MOWERS. 7HERE mountains round a lonely dale Our cottage-roof enclose, Come night or morn, the hissing pail With fragrant cream o'erflows ; And roused at break of day from sleep, And cheerly trudging hither, — A scythe-sweep, and a scythe-sweep. We mow the grass together. The fog drawn up the mountain-side And scatter'd flake by Hake, The chasm of blue above grows wide, And richer blue the lake ; Gay sunlights o'er the hillocks creep, And join for golden weather, — A scythe-sweep, and a scythe-sweep, We mow the dale together. The goodwife stirs at five, we know, Tlie master soon comes round, And many swaths must lie a-row Ere breakfast-horn shall sound ; Sweet vernal-grass, and foxtail deep. The spike or silvery feather, — A scythe-sweep and a scythe-sweep, We mow them down together. 58 SUMMER. The noon-tide brings its welcome rest Our toil-wt't brows to dry ; Anew with merry stave and jest The shrieking hone we ply. White falls the brook from steep to steep Among the rocks and heather, — A scythe-sweep and a scythe-sweep, We mow the dale together. For dial, sec, our shadows turn ; Low lies the stately mead : A scythe, an hour-glass, and an urn — All flesh is grass, we read. To-morrow's sky may laugh or weep. To Heav'n we leave it whether : A scythe-sweep, and a scythe-sweep, We've done our task together. SUMMER. 59 ON THE SUNNY SHORE. Checquer'd with woven shadows as I lay Among the grass, blinking the watery gleam, — I saw an Echo- Spirit in his bay, Most idly floating in the noontide beam. Slow heaved his filmy skiff, and fell, with sway Of ocean's giant pulsing, and the Dream, Buoy'd like the young moon on a level stream Of greenish vapour at decline of day, Swam airily, — watching the distant flocks Of sea-gulls, whilst a foot in careless sweep Touch'd the clear-trembling cool with tiny shocks, Faint-circling ; till at last he dropt asleep, Lull'd by the hush-song of the glittering deep Lap-lapping drowsily the heated rocks. GO SUMMER. THE WAYSIDE WELL. Greet thee kindly, Wayside Well, Li thy hedge of roses ! Whither drawn by soothing spell, Weary foot reposes. With a welcome fresh and green Wave tliy border grasses, By the dusty traveller seen, Sighing as he passes. Cup of no Circean bliss, Charity of summer. Making hapi)y with a kiss Every meanest comer ! Morning, too, and eventide. Without stint or measure, Cottage households near and wide Share thy liquid treasure. Fair the greeting face ascends, Like a naiad's daughter. To the peasant lass that bends To th}' tremljling water. When a lad has brought her pail Down the twilight meadow, Tender falls the whisi)erd tale. Soft the double shadow. SUMMER. 61 Clear as childhood's is thy look, Nature seems to pet thee, Fierce July that drains the brook Hath no power to fret thee. Shelter'd cool and free from smirch In thy cavelet shady, O'er thee in a silver birch Stoops a forest lady. Mirror to the Star of Eve, Maiden shy and slender. Matron Moon thy depths receive, Globed in mellow splendour. Bounteous Spring ! for ever own Undisturb'd thy station ; Not to thirsty lips alone Servino- mild donation. '& Never come the newt or frog, Pebble thrown in malice, Mud or wither'd leaves, to clog Or defile thy chalice. Heaven be still within thy ken. Through the veil thou wearest,- Glimpsing clearest, as with men. When the boughs are barest. 02 SUMMER. HALF-DREAMING. In morninp; mist and dream I lay, And saw, mctliought, two iJabes at play, In a green garden, girl and boy ; With Lucy painting in her cliair, The sunshine catching golden hair At moments when she lifts her head To look at these, and share their joy. Kind happy Dream ! — Ah, sting of woe ! This nsed to he, long time ago. The Mother and the Babes are dead, And I am old and lonely : lied Life's pleasure now, itself a dream. How long a dream lasts, who can say, Or how it drifts and intcrshifts 1 1 woke, I saw the sunny beam, I heard the shrieking of the swifts, Then tlnng my curtain Ijack. Below, Two merry faces all aglow Look up, ' Good morning, dear Papa ! Mamma is coming home to-day.' Grant us to taste, Ye Mystic Powers, Our happy hours, — how they haste ! SUMMER. 63 EVEY. Bud and leaflet, opening slowly, Woo'd with tears by winds of Spring Now, of June persuaded wholly, Perfumes, flow'rs, and shadows bring. Evey, in the linden alley. All alone I met to-day, Tripping to the sunny valley Spread across with new-mown hay. Brown her soft curls, sunbeam-sainted. Golden in the wavering flush ; Darker brown her eyes are, painted Eye and fringe with one soft brush. Through the leaves a careless comer. Never nymph of fount or tree Could have press'd the floor of summer With a lighter foot than she. Can this broad hat, fasten'd under With a bright blue ribbon's flow, Change my pet so much, I wonder, Of a month or two a^^o 1 *o^ Half too changed to speak I thought her, Till the pictured silence broke. Sweet and clear as dropping water, Into words she sung or spoke. G4 SUMMER. Few her words ; yet, like a sister, Trustfully she look'd and smiled ; 'Twas but in my soul I kiss'd her. As I used to kiss the child. Shadows, which are not of sadness, Touch her eyes, and brow above. As pale wild roses dream of redness, Dreams her innocent heart of love. AN EVENING. A Sunset's mounded cloud ; A diamond evening-star ; Sad l»lue hills afar ; Love in his shroud. Scarcely a tear to shed ; Hanlly a word to say ; The end of a summer day ; Sweet Love dead. SUMMER. 65 THE QUEEN OF THE FOREST. Beautiful, beautiful Queen of the Forest, How art thou hidden so wondrous deep ? Bird never sung there, fay never morriced, All the trees are asleep. Nigh the drizzling waterfall Plumed ferns wave and wither ; Voices from the woodlands call, ' Hither, hither !' Calling all the summer day, Through the woodlands, far away. Who by the rivulet loiters and lingers, Tranced by a mirror, a murmur, a freak ; Thrown where the grass's cool fine fingers Play Avith his dreamful cheek ? Cautious creatures gliding by, Mystic sounds fill his j^leasure. Tangled roof inlaid with sky. Flowers, heaps of treasure : Wandering slowly all the day, Through the woodlands, far away. 66 SUMMER, Late last nii^ht, betwixt nioonliglit ami inoiiiing, Came She, iintlioiight-of, and stood by his bed : A kiss for love, and a kiss for warning, A kiss for ti'ouble and dreatl. Now her Hitting fading gleam Haunts the woodlands wide and lonely ; Novv, a half-remember'd dream For his comrade only, He shall stray the livelong day Through the forest, far away. Dare not the hiding Enchantress to follow ! Hearken the yew, he hath secrets of hers. The gray owl stirs in an oaktree's hollow, The wind in the gloomy firs. Down among those dells of green, Glimpses, whispers, run to wile thee ; Waking eyes have nowhere seen Her that would beguile thee — Draw thee on, till death of day, Through the dusk woods, far away. SUMMER. 67 IN A BROKEN TOWER. The tangling wealth by June amass'd Left rock and ruin vaguely seen ; Thick ivy-cables held them fast, Light boughs descended, floating green. Slow turn'd the stair, a breathless height. And far above it set me free. When all the golden fan of light Was closing down into the sea. A window half-way up the wall It led to ; and so high was that, The tallest trees were not so tall That they could reach to where I sat. Aloft within the moulder'd Tower Dark ivy fringed its round of sky. Where slowly, in the deepening hour, The first faint stars unveil'd on hi2;h. The rustling of the foliage dim, The murmur of the cool gray tide, With tears that trembled on the brim, An echo sad to these I sigh'd. 5—2 GS SUMMF.It. Sea, thy lipple's mnuiniul tune I — The cloiul ah>iig the sunset sleeps, The i)haiitom of the gokleu moon hi kindled in thy quivering deeps, Oh, niouiiii'uUy ! — and I to (ill, Fix'd in a ruin-window strange, Some countless period, watching still A moon, a sea, that never change ! The guided orb is mounting slow ; The duteous wave is el>l)ing fast ; And now, as from the niche 1 go, A shadow joins the shadowy past. Farewell, dim liuins, tower and life. Sadly enrich the distant view ! And welcome, scenes of toil and strife ; To-morrow's sun arises new. SUMMER. 69 AFTER SUNSET. The vast and solemn company of clouds Around the Sun's death, lit, incarnadined, Cool into ashy wan ; as Night enshrouds The level pasture, creeping up behind Through voiceless vales, o'er lawn and purpled hill And hazed mead, her mystery to fulfil. Cows low from far-off farms ; the loitering wind Sighs in the hedge, you hear it if you will, — Tho' all the wood, alive atop with wings Lifting and sinking through the leafy nooks, Seethes with the clamour of a thousand rooks. Now ever}' sound at length is hush'd away. These few are sacred moments. One more Day Drops in the shadowy gulf of bygone things. 70 SUM.MEK. IX THE DUSK. Welcome, friendly stars, one by one, two by two ! Voices of the waterfall toning in the air ; And the wavy landscape-outlines bliirrM with falling dew. As my rapture is with sadness, because I may not share, A nd double it by sharing it with (liee. — Cloudy fire dies awuy on the sea. Calm shadowy Earth ! she lies musing like a saint ; Wearing for a halo the pure circlet of ttie moon ; From the mountain breathes the night-wind, steadily, tho' faint ; As I am l)reathing softly, 'Ah! niight some heav'nly boon Bestow thee, my Bclov'd One, to my side !' — Like a full, happy heart flows the tide. SUMMER. 71 ^OLIAX HARP. O PALE green sea, With long pale purple clouds above — ■ "What lies in me like weight of love ? What dies in me "With utter grief, because there comes no sign Through the sun-raying West, or on the dim sea-line ? salted air, Blown round the rocky headlands chill — What calls me there from cove and hill ] What falls me fair From Thee, the first-born of the youthful night 1 Or in the waves is coming through the dusk twilight ? O yellow Star, Quivering upon the rippling tide — - Sendest so far to one that sigh'd 1 Bendest thou. Star, Above where shadows of the dead have rest And constant silence, with a message from the blest ? 72 SUMMER. ON THE TWILIGHT TOXD. A siLVDoWY fringe the fir-trees make, AMiere sunset light hath been ; The h'linid thrills to one gold fluke, And IJespenis is seen ; Our boat and we, not half awake, Co drifting down the pond, While slowly calls the rail, ' Crake-crake,' l-'rom nieadow-tlats bejoud. This happy, circling, bounded view Embraces us Avith home ; To far worlds, kindling in the blue, Our upward thoughts may roam ; Whence, with the veil of scented dew That makes the earth so sweet, A touch of astral brightness too, A peace — which is complete. SUMMER. 73 UNKNOWN BELOV'D ONE. UNKNOWN Belov'd One ! to the perfect season Branches in the lawn make drooping bow'rs; Vase and plot burn scarlet, gold, and azure ; Honeysuckles wind the tall gray turret, And pale passion-How'rs. Come thou, come thou to my lonely thought, Unknown Belov'd One. Now, at evening twilight, dusky dew down-wavers. Soft stars crown the grove-encircled hill ; Breathe the new-mown meadows, broad and misty ; Through the heavy grass the rail is talking ; All beside is still. Trace with me the wandering avenue, Thou Unknown Belov'd One. In the mystic realm, and in the time of visions, I thy lover have no need to woo ; There I hold thy hand in mine, thou dearest. And thy soul in mine, and feel its throbbing. Tender, deep, and true ; Then my tears are love, and thine are love, Thou Unknown Belov'd One ? Is thy voice a wavelet on the listening darkness 1 Are thine eyes unfolding from their veil ? AVilt thou come before the signs of winter — Days that shred the bough with trembling fingers, Nights that weep and wail 1 Art thou Love indeed, or art thou Death, Unknown Belov'd One 1 SUMMER. SERENADE. Uii, hearing sleeji, ami sleeping hear, The while we dare to call thee dear, 80 may thy dreams be good, altho' The loving power tliou dost not know. As music parts the silence,— lo ! Thrtjugh heaven the stars begin to peep, To comfort us that daikling pine Because those fairer lights of thine Have set into the Sea of Sleep. Yet closed still thine eyelids keep ; And may our voices through the sphere Of Dreamland all as softly rise As through these shadowy rural dells, Where bashful Echo somewhere dwells, And touch thy spirit to as soil replies. May i)eace from gentle guardian skies. Till watches of the dark are worn, Siu-rouud thy licd, and joyous morn Makes all thi' chamber rosy bright ! Good-night ! — From far-oft* fieMs is borne The drowsy Echo's faint 'Good-night,' — Good-night ! Good night ! DAY AND NIGHT SONGS. 75 A UTUMN. AUTUMNAL SONNET. lyOW Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, ^^ And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night by night the monitory blast Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes, Or grim wide wave ; and now the power is felt Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt. Dear friends, together in the glimmering eve. Pensive and glad, with tones that recognise The soft invisible dew in each one's eyes, It may be, somewhat thus we shall have leave To walk with memory, when distant lies Poor Earth, where we were wont to live and grieve. 70 AUTUMN. .'EOLIAN HAKP. Hear you now a throbbing wind that calls Over ridge of cloud and purple Hake 1 S;ul tlie sunset's niiii'd palace-walls, J)im the line of mist along the lake, — Even as the mist of Memory. the summer-nights that used to be ! An evening rises from the dead Of long-ago (ah me, how long !) Like a story, like a song. Told, and sung, and pass'd away. Love was there, that since hath Hed, Hope, whose locks are turn'd to gray, Frieiidshij), with a tongue of truth And a beating heart ot youth, Wingt'd Joy, too, just alighted, Ever-welcome, uninvited ; T,ove and Friendship, Ho|)e and Joy, \\ illi arms iihout each oilier twined. Merrily watching a crescent moon, Slung to its gold nail of a stai', ( )vt'r the fading crimson Itar, Like a hunter's horn : the happy wind AUTUMN. 77 Breathed to itself some twilight tune, And bliss had no alloy. Against the colours of the west Trees were standing tall and black, The voices of the day at rest, Night rose around, a solemn flood, With fleets of worlds : and our delightful mood EijDpled in music to the rock and wood ; Music with echoes, never to come back. The touch upon my hand is this alone — A heavy tear-drop of my own. Listen to the breeze : ' loiterin"- Time ! — Unresting Time ! — -0 viewless rush of Time !' Thus it calls and swells and falls, From Sunset's wasted pal ace- walls, And ghostly mists that climb. AUTUMN. ^OLIAN HARP. \\'iiAr is it that is gone, we fancieil ours ? O what is lost that never may be told ? — We stray all afternoon, and we may grieve Until the perfect closing of the night. Listen to us, thou gray Autumnal Eve, "Whose i:)art is silence. At thy verge the clouds Are broken into melancholy gold ; The waifs of Autumn and tlie feeble flow'rs Glimmer along our woodlands in wet light ; Within thy shadow thou dost Aveave the shrouds Of joy and great adventure, waxing cold, Which once, or so it seem'd, were full of might. Some power it was, that lives not with us now, A thought we had, but could not, could not hold. sweetly, swiftly jjass'd ! — air sings and nuuinurs; Green leaves are gathering on the dewy bough : O sadly, swiftly pass'd ! — air sighs and mutters ; Ked leaves are dropping on the rainy mould. Then comes the snow, unfeatured, vast, and white. what is gone from us, we fancied ours ? AUTUMN. 79 AWAKING. A Golden pen I mean to take, A book of ivory white, And in the mornings when I wake The fair dream-thonghts to write, Wiiich out of heav'n to love are giv'n. Like dews that fall at night. For soon the delicate gifts decay As stirs the miry, smoky day. * Sleep is like death,' and after sleep The world seems new besrun. Its quiet purpose clear and deep. Its long-sought mt-aninu' won ; White thoughts stand luminous and firm Like statues in the sun ; Refresh'd from supersensuous founts The soul to blotless vision mounts. ' Sleep is like death.' Is death like sleep ? A waftage through still time ? And when its dreams of dawn shall peep What strange or alter'd clime Will they foreshow I No man may know ; Though some few souls may climb So far as faintly to surmise The master-secret of the skies. 80 AUTUMN. AN AUTUMN EVENING. Now is Queen Autumn's progress through the land Ucr busy, sunhrown suKjects all astir, I'repuring loyally on every hand A golden triumph. Earth is glad of her. The regal curtainings of clouds on high, And shifting splendours of the vaulted air, I']x])ress a jubilation in the sky, That nobly in the festival doth share. With arohiuLr garlands of unfinger'd green, And knuls of fruit, a bower each highway shows; Loud busy Joy is herald on the scene To Gratitude, Contentment, and liepo.se. Lately, when this good time was at its best, One evening found nie, with half-wearied pace. Mounting a hill against the lighted West, A cool air softly Howing on my face. The vast and gorgeous pomp of silent sky Embathed a harvest realm in double gold ; Sheaf-teiited fields of bloodless victory ; Stackyards, and cottages in leafy fold, A\'henct! climb'd the blue smoke-pillars. Grassy hill And furrow'd land their graver colourings lent ; And some few rows of corn, ungaruer'd still, Like aged men to earth, their cradle, bent. A\'hile reapers, gleanens, and full carts of grain, With uiidisturbiiig niotiDii and faint sound Fed the lich calm o'er all the vsumptuous i)lain : Moiuitains, imbued with violet, were its bound. AUTUMN, 81 Among the sheaves and hedges of the slope, And harvest-people, I descended slowly, Field after field, and reach'd a pleasant group On their own land, that were not strangers wholly. Here stood the Farmer, sturdy man though gray, In sober parley with a stalwart son. Who had been reaping in the rank all day, And now put on his coat, for work was done. Two girls, like half-blown roses twin, that breathed The joy of youth untroubled with a care, Laugh'd to their five-year nephew, as he wreathed Ked poppies through his younger sister's hair. Their homestead bounds received me with the rest ; The cheerful mother waiting at the door Had smiles for all, and welcome for the guest, And bustling sought the choicest of her store. gentle rustic roof, and dainty board ! Kind eyes, frank voices, mirth and sense were there ; Love that went deep, and piety that soar'd ; The children's kisses and the evening pray'r. Earth's common pleasures, near the ground like grass, Are best of all ; nor die although they fade : Dear, simple household joys, that straightway pass The precinct of devotion, undismay'd. Eeturning homeward, soften'd, raised, and still'd ; Celestial peace, that rare, transcendent boon, Fill'd all my soul, as heav'u and earth were fill'd With bright perfection of the Harvest Moon. ^•2 AUTUMN. EOBIN liEDBREAST. (A Ch'dd's Sonrj.) GooD-r.YK, good-bye to Summer ! For Summer's neai'ly done ; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the siui ; Our Thrushes now are silent, Our Swallows flown away, — Ikit liobin's here, in coat of brown, \Vith ruddy breast-knot gay. Kobin, liobin Kedbreast, O Robin dear ! Xiobin singing sweetly In the falling of the year. Bright yellow, red, and orange. The leaves come down in hosts ; The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts ; The scanty pears and apiiles Hang russet on the bough. It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Bobin, Bobin Bedbreast, U Bobin dear! And welaway ! my Bobin, For pinching times are near. AUTUMN. 83 The fireside for the Cricket, The wheatstack for the Mouse, When trembhng night-winds whistle And moan all round the house ; The frosty ways like iron. The branches plumed with snow, — Alas ! in Winter, dead and dark, Where can jooor Robin go ? Robin, Robin Redbreast, Robin dear ! And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer. 6—2 84 AUTVMN. THE SHOOTI^'G STAR. Autumnal night's deep azure dome Darkcn'd tlie Unvn and terrace high, AA'hcre groups had left their music-room For starry hush and open sky, To ^vatch the metpors, how they went Across the stately firmament. As "Walter paced with Josephine, The loveliest maid of all he knew, Touch'd by the vast and shadowy scene, Their friendly spirits closer drew, Beneath the dim-lit hoIloAv night, And those strange signals moving bright. 'A wish,' said Walter, — 'have you heard — Wish'd in the shooting of a star. Fulfils itself V * Prepare your word,' Said Josephine ; ' there's nought to mar 'J'he shining chance.' ' And may 1 tell V ' no ! for that would break the spell.' But now a splendid meteor flew, And ere it died the wish was made, And won : for in a Hasii they knew The happy truth, so long delay'd, AVhich months and years had never l)rouglit,- Froni this bright fleeting moment caught. AUTUMN. 85 THE VALLEY STREAM. Stream flowing swiftly, Avhat music is thine ! The breezy rock-pass, and the storm-wooing pine, Have taught thee their murmurs, Their wild mountain-murmurs, Subdued in thy liquid response to a sound Which aids the repose of this pastoral ground, Where mingles our valley an awe with the love It smiles to the sheltering bastions above : Thy cloud-haunted birthplace, Stream, flowing swiftly ! Encircle our meadows with bounty and grace, Then move on thy journey with tranquiller pace, To find the great waters, The great ocean-waters. Blue, wonderful, boundless to vision or thought : — Thence, thence, might thy musical tidings be brought One waft of the tones of the infinite Sea ! Our gain is but songs of the mountain from thee, Child of the Mountain ! O Stream of our Valley ! And have we divined what is thunder'd and hiss'd Where the lofty ledge glimmers through screens of gray mist. And raves forth its secrets, The heart of its secrets ? Or learnt what is hid in thy Avhispering note Mysteriously gather'd from fountains remote To the peak and the fell 1 what music is thine. Thou swift-flowing River, if soul's ear be fine, Far-wafted, prophetic, Thou Stream of our Valley ! 86 AUTUilN. SOLUS. Autumn and sunset now have double-dyed The foliage and the fern of this deep wood, The sky above it melting placidly All crimsonings to gray. No sound is heard. The Spirit of the Place, like mine, seems lull'd In pensive retrospection. One more Spring, And one more Summer past, and one more Year. Anim the distant bell begins to chime. And calls me homeward, calls me to a home As lonely as the Forest, peopled but \\'ith memories, and fantasies, and shadows. These wait for me this evening. What beyond ? The silent sunset of a lonely life ? Norley Wood. AUTUMN. 87 ^OLIAN HAEP. What saith the river to the rushes gray, Eushes sadly bending, Eiver slowly wending 1 Who can tell the whisper'd things they say 1 Youth, and prime, and life, and time, For ever, ever fled away ! Drop your wither'd garlands in the stream, Low autumnal branches, Round the skiff that launches Wavering downward through the lands of dream. Ever, ever fled away ! This the burden, this the theme. WTiat saith the river to the rushes gray, Rushes sadly bending, River slowly wending? It is near the closing of the day. Near the night. Life and light For ever, ever fled away ! Draw him tideward down ; but not in haste. Mouldering daylight lingers ; Night with her cold fingers Sprinkles moonbeams on the dim sea-waste. Ever, ever fled away ! Vainly cherish'd ! vainly chased ! 88 AUTUMN. What saith the river to the rushes gray, liushes sadly bending, Ifiver slowly wending 1 Wlierc in darkest glooms his bed we lay, Up the cave moans the wave, For ever, ever, ever tied away ! \ AUTUMN. 89 LATE AUTUMN. October — and the skies are cool and gray O'er stubbles emptied of their latest sheaf, Bare meadow, and the slowly falling leaf. The dignity of woods in rich decay Accords full well with this majestic grief That clothes our solemn purple hills to-day, Whose afternoon is hush'd, and wintry brief. Only a robin sings from any spray. And night sends up her pale cold moon, and spills White mist around the hollows of the hills. Phantoms of firth or lake ; the peasant sees His cot and stackyard, with the homestead trees, Islanded ; but no foolish terror thrills His perfect harvesting ; he sleeps at ease. 90 AUTUMN. TWO MOODS. I. Slow drags this dreary season ; The earth a lump of lead ; The vacant skies, blue skies or brown, Bereft of joy and hope. I cannot iiud a reason To wish I were not dead, — Unfasten'd and let glide, gone down A dumb and dusky slope. I recognise the look of care In every face ; for now I share What makes a forehead wrinkles wear, And sets a mouth to mope. A sombre, languid yearning For silence and the dark : Shall wish, or fear, or wisest word, Arouse me any more 1 What profits bookleaf-turning ? Or prudent care and cark 1 Or Folly's drama, seen and heard And acted as before ? No comfort for the dismal Day ; It cannot work, or think, or pray ; A shivering pauper, sail and gray, With no good thing in store. AUTUMN. 91 II. What lifts me and lightens ? Enriches and brightens The day, the mere day, the most marvellous day ? pleasure divine ! An invisible ■uine Pours quick through my being; broad Heaven is benign, And the Earth full of wonders, and both of them mine, — What first shall I do, shall I say ? See the bareheaded frolicsome babes as they run Go skipping from right foot to left foot in fun, — 'Tis the pleasure of living ; Too long I've o'erlook'd it, In sulk and misgiving, And lunatic fret ; But it wakes in me 3'et, Though the world has rebuked it : city and country ! landscape and sun ! Air cloudy or breezy. And stars, everj^ one ! Gay voices of children ! All duties grown easy, All truths unbewild'ring, Since Life, Life immortal, is clearly begun ! 02 AUTUMN. TWILIGHT VOICES. Now, at the hour when ignorant mortals Drowse in the shade of their wliirling sphere, Heaven and Hell from invisible portals Breathing comfort and ghastly fear, Voices I hear ; I hear strange voices, flitting, calling, Wavering by on the dusky blast, — ' Come, let us go, for the night is falling, Come, let us go, for the da}^ is past !' Troops of joys are they, now departed ? Winged hopes that no longer stay ? Guardian spirits grown weary-hearted? Powers that have linger'd their latest day ? What do they say 1 What do they sing ? I hear them calling, Whispering, gathering, ilying fast, — ' Come, come, for the night is falling ; Come, come, for the day is past !' Sing they to me 1 — ' Thy taper's wasted ; Mortal, thy sands of life run low ; Thine hours like a Hock of birds have hasted ; Time is ending ; — we go ! we go I' Sing they so 1 Mystical voices, iloating, calling ; Dim farewells — the last, the last ? — ' Come, come away, the night is falling Come, come away, the day is past !' *o > AUTUMN. 93 See, 1 am ready, Twilight Voices ; Child of the spirit-world am I ; How should I fear you ? my soul rejoices. speak plainer ! draw nigh ! Fain would I fly ! Tell me your message, Ye who are calling Out of the dimness vague and vast 1 — Lift me, take me, — the night is falling ; Quick, let us go, — the day is past ! 94 AUTUMN, A GRAVESTOXE. Far from the churchyard dig his grave, On some green mouml beside the wave ; To westward, sea and sky alone, And sunsets. Put a massy stone, With mortal name and date, a harp And bunch of wild flowers, carren sharp ; Then leave it frfce to winds that blow, And patient mosses creeping slow. And wandering wings, and footstep rare Of human creature pausing there. AUTUilN. 95 HYMX. Hovv dimly walks the wisest On his journey to the grave, Till Thou, Lamp of Souls, arisest, Beaming over land and wave ! Blind and weak behold him wander, Full of doubt and full of dread ; Till the dark is rent asunder, And the gulf of light is spread. Shadows Avere the gyves that bound him ; Now his soul is light in light ; Heav'n within him, Heav'n around him, Pure, eternal, infinite. -•^1^ 06 DAY AND NIGHT SONGS. WINTER. BAEE twigs in April enhance onr pleasure ; \Ve know the good time is yet to come ; With leaves and flow'rs to fill Summer's measure, And countless soncs ere the birds be dumb. 'O"- Pare twigs in Autumn are signs for sadness ; We feel the good time is well-nigh past ; The glow subdued, and the voice of gladness, And frosty whispers in every blast. For perfect garlands just now we waited ; Already, garlands arc turning sere ; And Time, old traveller, like one belated, Hunies on to fulfil the year. Ah, Sjtring's defects, and October's losses ! Fair hope, sad memory ! — but grieve not thou In leafless dells, look, what emerald mosses ; Nay, secret buds on the wintry bough. WINTER. 97 FOOTSTEPS. Sound of feet In the lonely street, Coming to-night, — coming to me ? Perhaps (why not ? it well may be) j\Iy dear old friend From the world's end, At last. How we shall meet, And shout and greet, (0 hearty voice that memory knows !) Till the first gush and rush be past. And smoother now the current flows; Plenty on either side to tell, Sharing joj', and soothing pain As friendship's tongue can do so well Hush ! hark ! I hear, in the dark — Only the footsteps of the rain. n. Stay ! stay ! Coming this way Through the dull night — perhaps to me— Coming, coming, coming fast, (And why may not such things be ?) A messenger's feet In the lonely street, With some good wonderful news to say At last. 7 98 WINTER. A word has been spoken, A bad spell broken, INIen see aright, All faces are briglit, For the world to-morrow begins anew ; There's much to plan, and plenty tu do; Away ! search, sift the country through, And say at once to a certain few : * Come, for our gain. We know you, and now we have work for you. Hush ! hark ! I hear, in the dark — Only the footsteps of the rain. III. Close, close. Outside the house. Steps approaching ! — are these for me 1 Coming gently, coming fast, (And O, if this can be !) — Out of the strife Of selfish life My Love has fled of a sudden, — 'tis She, At last ! Here she stands, Eyes and mouth and tender form True and warm ; My dream of many a lonely year ; Stretches her liands — No doubt or fear — ' See, my Love, 'tis all in vain To keep true lovers iiartcd. If they be faithfubhearted !' Hush ! balk ! I hear, in the dark — Only the footsteps of the rain. WINTER. 99 ^OLIAN HARP. Is it all in vain ? Strangely throbbing pain, Trembling joy of memory! Bygone things, how shadowy Within their graves they lie ! Shall I sit then by their graves, Listening to the melancholy waves 1 I would fain. But even these in vapours die : For nothing may remain. One survivor in a boat On the wide dim deep afloat, When the sunken ship is gone, Lit by late stars before the dawn. The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are dumb. The ship is sunk full many a year. Dream no more of loss or gain. A ship was never here. A dawn will never, never come. — Is it all in vain ? 7-2 100 WINTER. THE LIGHTHOUSE. The ])lmi, ijulbi 0, 'You shall be quceii of all that's there, Love me tine ! ' A gray old harper sung to me, The waves roll so (jaily 0, " Beware of the Damsel of the Sea !" Love vie true ! 'In liall he harpeth many a year, The waves roll so (jaibj 0, * And we will sit his song to hear, Love me true / * I love thee deep, I love thee^true,' The leaver roll so gaili/ (), ' But ah ! 1 know not how to woo,' Love me true !' Down dash'd the cup, with a sudden shock. The waves roll so gaily 0, The wine like blood ran over the rock, Love me true ! She said no word, but shriek'd aloud, Tlie ivarcs roll so gaili/ 0, And vanish'd away from where she stood. Love me true ! I lock'd and barr'd my castle door, The leaves roll so !/"ili/ 0, Three summer days I grieved sore, Love me true ! For myself a day and night, The u-aves roll so gaihj 0, And two to moan that lady bright, Love me (rue/ THISTLEDOWN. 137 THISTLEDOWN. {A71 English Rural Custom. ) Long ago, — a little girl, Smooth of cheek and dark of curl, Like my daughter's nearly, — I gather'd for my bridal bed Many a hoary thistle-head Before the Hying tufts were shed. And saved them up so dearly. the happy days and dreams ! Endless Present, — lit with gleams Of a wondrous Future ! Day, and week, and month, and year. Glide, — and what know you, my dear ? And what know I ? little sphere Of every mortal creature ! Life has pleasure, life has pain, Passing, not to come again, Blackest hours and brightest. Time takes all things, all must go ; Byegones vanish — is it so 1 Gone and lost for ever ? — No ! Not the least and lightest. ■^~- - — - ^ «i « W i i» i ■i rm ii 1. «< m t i , 138 BALLADS, ETC. In Age, we laugh at dreams of Youth. Are Age's dreanas more like the truth? And what is life hut feeling ? The world is something, none can doubt. But no one finds its secret out ; To childhood, and to souls devout. Comes the best revealing. Gay at heart are you, my child, Gathering downy thistles wild ; Cares nor fears oi)press thee ; Gathering up, for joy, for moan. When all these autumns, too, are flown, The bed that you must lie upon. — God protect and bless thee ! THE BUBBLE, 139 THE BUBBLE. See, the pretty Planet ! Floating sphere ! Faintest breeze will fan it Far or near ; World as light as feather ; Moonshine rays, Rainbow tints together. As it plays ; Drooping, sinking, failing, Nigh to earth. Mounting, whirling, sailing, Full of mirth ; Life there, welling, flowing, Waving round ; Pictures coming, going, Without sound. Quick now, be this airy Globe repell'd ! Never can the fairy Star be held. Touch'd — it in a twinkle Disappears ! Leaving but a sprinkle, As of tears. ■- «»- 140 LALLADK, ETC. THE DIRTY OLD MAN. A LAY OF LEADENHALL. In a dirty old house lived a Dirty Old IMan ; Soap, towels, or l)rushes were not in his plan. For forty long years, as the neighbours 0 BALLADS, ETC. It is past the ringing hour ; There is silence in the tower ; Have that on a pinnacle A rohin sits, and sings full well. Hush — at length for prayer they toll God receive the parted soul ! SQUIRE CURTIS. 151 SQUIRE CURTIS. Squire Curtis had a cruel mouth, Tho' honey was on his tongue ; Squire Curtis woo'd and wedded a wife, And she was fair and young. But he said, ' She cannot love me ; She watches me early and late ; She's meek and good and cold of mood.' — His liking turn'd to hate. One autumn eve they rode through the woods, Far and far away ; ' The dusk is drawing I'ound,' she said, ' I fear we have gone astray.' He spake no word, but lighted down, And tied his horse to a tree ; Out of the pillion he lifted her ; ' 'Tis a lonely place,' said she. Down a forest-alley he walk'd, And she walk'd by his side ; ' Would Heav'n we were at home !' she said, ' These Avoods are dark and wide !' He spake no word, but still walk'd on ; The branches shut out the sky ; In the darkest place he turn'd him round — ' 'Tis here that you must die.' 152 BALLADS, ETC. Once she shriek'd and never again ; He stal)b'd her with his knife ; Once, twice, thrice, and every blow Enough to take a Hfe. A grave was ready ; he hiid lier in ; He till'd it up with care ; Under the brambles and fallen leaves Small sign of a grave Avas there. He rode for an hour at a steady pace, Till back to his house came he ; On face or clothing, on foot or hand. No stain that eye could see. He boldly call'd to his serving-man, As he lighted at the door : ' Your Mistress is gone on a sudden journcy,- !^^ay stay for a month or more. ' In two days I shall follow her ; Let her waitintr-woman know.' ' Sir,' said the serving-man, ' i\Iy Lad}' Came in an hour atro.' Squire Curtis sat him down in a chair. And moved neither hand nor head. In there came the waiting-Avoman, ' Alas the day !' she said. 'Alas ! good Sir,' says the waiting-woman, ' What aileth ni}- Mistress dear. That she sits alone without sign or word ? There is somethinir wronic, 1 fear ! * Her face was white as any corpse As up the stair she pass'd ; She never turn'd, she never spoke ; And the chamber-door is fast. SQUIRE CURTIS. 153 ' She's waiting for you.' ' A lie !' he shouts, And up to his feet doth start ; ' My wife is buried in Brimley Holt, With three wounds in her heart.' They search'd the forest by lantern light, They search'd by dawn of day ; At noon they found the bramble-brake And the pit where her body lay. They carried the murder'd woman home, Slow walking side by side. Squire Curtis he swung upon gallows-tree, But confess'd before he died. A venerable trusty Man With hair like drifted snow. Told me this tale, as from his wife He learn'd it long ago. ' Her father-, Sir, in early days, Lived close by Curtis Hall ; Many's the time he heard folk tell Of what did there befall. ' The story's true from first to last ; His name was Henry Dabb ; Died Christmas Eve at eighty-four,- You'll read it on the slab.' 154 BALLADS, ETC. EMILY. 'Good evening. Why, of course it's you ! You " half imai;ineil," — I knew ! There, there, don't make a fuss, my dear, Come in and let's have supper here. ' You're married now, Frank ; yes, I heard ; And looking bright, upon my word. Ami I ? — a little thin or so ? — You can't make cottage-roses grow In London, can you ? — dear me ! But never mind; it's life, you see. ' Her name — don't tell me ; I don't care. Of couise you make a loving pair. Your jolly healths ! Why, there you sit. And never eat or drink a bit. " How well I'm drest " — you think so, eh 1 You like my hair done up this way ? 'Oh don't go yet, Frank ! stay, do stay Five minutes longer ! please don't go ! I'm not Ht company, I know — But just this one time — just this last I ' D'ye ever think of days gone past. When 3'on and 1 a-courting went, So loving, and so innocent t Our walks, our little messages, Our notes, our (puirrels ; after those, EMILY. 155 Our makings-up — were we not Rare fools 1 Then, of a sudden, came The desperate quarrel, and for what 1 For nothino; ! I was most to blame. 'O ? ' What use in crying 1 Ain't it funny ? Naj^, my good sir, I don't want mone3^ I don't, Frank; no, I don't indeed. Why, I can lend you if you need. Stop, I'll take this ; Til tell you why ; X little locket I shall buy, (Now mayn't I ?) big enough to hold A lock of hair, that you forgot, And so I kept it back. ' How cold The night-air strikes when one's so hot ! Ah, you won't kiss me now. All right, Ta, ta, Frank ; off you go ; good-night !' 15G IJ.VLLADS, KTC. THE BULL. It's true, a beast is but a beast : Man ! be thou no less, at least. Plaudits shake the Circus round, No sluggard hath this Bull been found, Three liorses furiously he gores, Pushes hard the Picadors, In one mad sweep the Chulos drives Over the barrier for their lives, And, tail outstretchVl, black head low-bow'd, Nucleus of a dusty cloud, Flies round the orbit free of check, Stung by the javelins in his neck. What strikes the throng with such amaze ? Why start they from their seats to gaze ? One lonu' low whistle hath the force To curb the monster in his course ; From the seats a rustic Stranger Vaults into the ring of danger, Mildly calls the Bull l)y name, ' Soberbio !' — and never came A lamb more meekly to a child Than comes to him the Strong and Wild. Join'd in a gentle grou]) they stand ; The hot Bull licks the Herdsman's hand, THE BULL. 157 Whose other strokes his shivering ear And soothes away the rage and fear ; Till — see ! — with a contented moan He lays his tortured body down, And of his mountain pasture dreams, Amid the cool Sierra streams. The Crowd a general pity share. That simple Herdsman could not bear His favourite's pangs, and thus hath sought His old friend's side, distrusting nought. Trusting the faithful Beast aright, Whose rankling pain, tumultuous fright, Mock'd despair, revengeful rage. One voice can with a word assuage. Is it not so 1 — Nay, fool, not so ! This is a portion of our show ; Contrived a novel zest to bring To the arena's bloody ring, For even bull-fights pall at length ; And with his courage and his strength The Brute's affection, duly paid for, Helps our pastime, — what else made for 1 Plaudits roar the Circus rt)und. The black Bull, startled by the sound, Eemembering all the wrong and pain, Plunges to his feet again And whirls the Herdsman over his head, — ' Madre Santa ! he is dead !' A purse out of the wretch's breast Drops before him to the dust. And there with twisted neck he lies Motionless upon his prize. 15S UALLAK.S, ETC. Din springs up and mail commotion, As on glossy tropic ocean Fierce tornado's tiail may strike ; ISrilliant Chulos, leopardlike, Bound in to the Ili-rdsnian's aid. Too late. He now is Itoth ways paid May all that true aflfection sell Find it i)rofit them as well ! THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE. 159 THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE. When the spinning-room was here, Came Three Damsels, clothed in white, With their spindles every night ; One and two and three fair Maidens, Spinning to a pulsing cadence, Singing songs of Elfin-Mere ; Till the eleventh hour was toll'd, Then departed through the wold. Years ago, and years ago ; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow. Three white Lilies, calm and clear. And they were loved by every one ; Most of all, the Pastor's Son, Listening to their gentle singing. Felt his heart go from him, clinging To these Maids of Elfin-Mere ; Sued each night to make them stay, Sadden'd when they went away. Years ago, and years ago ; And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth hloic. Hands that shook with love and fear Dared put back the village clock, — Flew the spindle, turn'd the rock, Flow'd the song with subtle rounding. Till the false ' eleven ' was sounding ; IGU I'.ALLADS, ETC. Tlion these Maids of Eltiii-Mcre Swiftly, softly left the room, Like three doves ou snowy plume. Years ago, and years ago ; And the tall reeds sigh as the vnnd doth hloiv. One that night who wander'd near Heard lamentings by the shore, Saw at dawn three stains of gore In the waters fade and dwindle. Never more with song and spindle Saw wc jMaids of ElHn-Mere. The Pastor's Son did pine and die ; because true love should never lie. Years ago, and years ago ; And the tall reeds sigh as the icind doth hloir. MARY. 161 MARY. Mary's but a \ovf\y maid, Very wise and gentle ] Proud Lucinda's rich brocade Proves her father's rental. Where the lamps and jewels glow, Doth Lucinda bask it ; Cottage roof where roses blow, You're my Mary's casket ! See, in whim, Lucinda bright Flings her glances my way, As a travelling duchess might Wander down a bye-way. Love the brook, the village inn, — ' Here to live and die now ! Ah, new horses — off we spin : Little place, goodbye now !' Nay, my lady, by your leave. Wasted fall those glances ; You yourself alone deceive, Dangling toyish fancies. There, in all your charms array 'd. Calm I look you over ; Mary's but a smiple maid, I am Mary's lover. 11 !()•_' BALLADS, ETC. Sweeter fur iii\ Mary's sn)ile, Tender, trutlifiil, gracious, Tliaii tlio lady'.s lioneyM wile, Delicately ineiulaciuus. Give me Mary's finger-tips, Rol)l)'tl of half their whiteness, Kather than Lucindas lijJS, W'reath'd in languid brightness ! A tliousand l)eauties, fair and l)ro\vn, I've seen, of every station : Like my Mar}', never one ; She's new as Eve's creation. And hid was this delightful girl Where no man could discover. Till I, most happy, found the pearl, — I am Mary's lover. Fresher far than flowery wood When the spring awakes it, Brighter far than morning cloud When the sunshine takes it, ]\Iary's love — and pure as Heav'n : tliou best and dearest ! All thy love to me is given, All my soul thou cheerest. TOWER AND FIELD. 163 TOWER AND FIELD. A Hermit sat in a lonely tower, Heaping knowledge hour by hour ; Searching through all lives, all forces, All beginnings, and all courses ; Tracing on, from old to new, How rounded worlds from chaos grew ; Sifting all matter's form and plan. Within the utmost reach of man ; All dependence, all relation. Through the system of Creation. Of man's mind too, and its modes. Disentangling all the nodes. To that limit where extremes Interpenetrate like dreams, Where the eager wings in pain Struggle madly to sustain The soul in void, — where rises ever A wall of blank to man's endeavour. One day came a Shepherd Lad To where the Hermit plied his task : The Hermit raised his head to ask What knowledge was the best he had. ' A crowded, various earth is spread Around my footsteps,' said the Youth ; ' A great Heaven is above my head. To love and hope in simple truth, To reverence God, whate'er befall, — This is best, this is all.' 11—2 164 BALLADS, ETC. Then did this Hermit take the Boy, And teach him all that he could teach ; And, after many years, he said, 'All knowledge in the human reach Is thine, to use and to enjoy. What count'st thou l)est ?' Hh answer made, ' Increase of knowledge is good and sweet. That the soul may shun deceit ; And the best is this in sooth — To love and hope in simple truth, To reverence (led, wliate'er befall. This is best, this is all.' THE FAITHLESS KNIGHT. 165 THE FAITHLESS KNIGHT. It is a careless pretty may, down by yon river-side ; Her face, the whole world's pleasure, she gladly hath espied ; And tossing back her golden hair, her singing echoes wide ; When gaily to the grassy shore a youthful knight doth ride. II. And vaulting from his courser, that stoops the head to drink, And greeting well this Maiden fair, by running water's brink, He throws about her slender neck a chain of costly link : Too courteous he for glamourie, as any may might think. III. All through the flowery meadows, in the summer evening warm. The rippling river murmurs low, the dancing midges swarm ; But far away the pretty may, nor makes the least alarm, Sits firm on lofty saddle-bow, within the young knight's arm. IGG BALLADS, ETC. IV. Now months are come, and months are gone, with sunshine, breeze, ami rain ; The song on grassy rivcr-sliure you shall not hear again ; The proud knight spurs at tournament, in Germany or Spain, Or sues in silken Ijow'r to melt some lady's high dis- dain. And thus in idle hour he dreams — 'I've wander'd east and west ; I've whispered love in man}- an car, in earnest or in jest ; That summer day — that pretty may — perhaps she loved me l)cst? I recollect her face, methinks, more often than the rest.' SIR HUGH DE LA POLE. 167 SIR HUGH DE LA POLE. Sir Hugh bk la Pole was a sturdy old knight, Who in war and in peace had done every man right ; Had lived with his neighbours in loving accord, Save the Abbot and Monks, whom he fiercely ah- horr'd, And to their feet alone refused oak-floor and sward. n. With guests round his table, good servants at call, His laughter made echo the wide castle-hall ; He whoop'd to the falcon, he hunted the deer ; If down by the Abbey, his comrades could hear — ' A plague on these mummers, who mime all the year !' III. And now see him stretch'd on his leave-taking bed. " Five minutes ago with a calm smile he saiil, * I can trust my poor soul to the Lord God of Heaven, ' Tho' living impriested and dying unshriven. ' Sa}^ all of you, friends, " May his sins be forgiven !" ' IG8 r.AI.LADS, ETf. IV But some wlio are near to liim sorely repine He thus sliould decease like an ox or a swine ; So a message in haste to the Abl)ey they send, When the voice cannot ring, an