470S T( Gal'way Creed of love THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ! ■ i ^'' M ^\ THE CREED OF LOVE AND OTHER POEMS By VERE VISCOUNTESS GALWAY PRIVATELY PRINTED BY MESSRS. HATCHARD PICCADILLY, LONDON 1895 ?K To THS F%TSfNiT)S I LOVS. 9180£0 CONTENTS THE CREED OF LOVE I HER PROFILE 5 SUCCESS 7 PARTING AND MEETING 9 TFUTH AND THE MAN lO love's palm 13 isolden's liebestod 14 AN AMULET 17 women's RIGHTS .... 19 THE FAIRY GODMOTHER . 21 THE STORY OF THE ROSES 23 love's VICTIMS 27 A FINNISH TRAGEDY 29 FROM THE RUBAIYAT • 32 ALL souls' day .... . .38 THE SACRIFICE • 39 AN AFGHAN VENGEANCE . 42 THE WRECK. . 46 CONTENTS. A MINIATURE ..... LARES AND PENATES THE MARQUIS OF DUFFERIN AND AVA FEDERATION ..... SAVONAROLA . . . . , FESTINA LENTE .... ST. HELENA FAGE 49 52 55 58 63 65 68 THE CREED OF LOVE. TWO suns of love make day of human life.' So says the poet sage, but may we not Still further go, and add th' eternal too ? Love is the consecration of the world, The best of earthly things we may know here, As love divine, commiserating men, Saved a world lost, so perchance even ours, Feeble and immature, we know it is. Sometimes contains an element, a spark, Which now may glow, and now may seem extinct, But all the while vitality retains ; This love, which oft demands self-sacrifice. And friendship true, where passion enters not E'en self-effacement, all for love's dear sake; All these the thorns, round the sweet rose of love, Which makes Its blossom priceless. In days gone by, brave knights went nobly forth ; B ( 2 ) And did great deeds, to please their ladies fair ; They fought the Paynim, and they freed the slave, Beneath the symbol of the Cross they strove. It is not ours to do such deeds to-day, The times are changed, for better and for worse. More learned we than our forefathers were. But is the world the better ? Tell me that ! Belief in little, be it good or bad ; And like the Church that Mighty Voice rebuked, We must admit we're ' neither cold nor hot.' Although the world may. Love can never change, And, being eternal, it can never die ; If we believe Love died to save the world, For Love's own sake, for no ulterior aim, But very pity of us fallen men, Shall we not firmly cherish the fair hope, This power of love we hold is given us To help and strengthen those we hold most dear ? Maybe, they never know, and never guess Our life, our prayers, enfold them safe alway ; Our thoughts are with them oft, their joys our joy. Their sorrows ours, in weal and woe alike, Without a thought of ill, and asking nought But what is for their welfare. This may be never known, and better so, Because the world, the prurient, vulgar world, ( 3 ) The world of vice and passion, envy, spite. And all that's hateful, cannot understand, And would not, if it could. Fair flowers are soon destroyed by careless hands, So from the world, in casket of our hearts. Treasure we up our love, and keep it hid. It may indeed be our sweet privilege To suffer for that love, or even die (For better die to live, than live to die). But that's accorded to a chosen few. Still if we steadfast keep the goal in sight. Scorning the lets and hindrance of this world. The time will come when we must pass away. And good and evil done shall sifted be. That love will surely evermore endure. That faith will hold, and those we so loved here. Will then rejoin us, by some sweet power held As by th' invisible chain our fancy weaves. What Heaven may be, we cannot even guess, But where our love there is our treasure hid ; And lonely we, in fair Elysian fields. Without the souls we bound unto our own With bonds so sacred. It may be. Though absent in the flesh, our spirits may Permitted be o'er those dear ones to watch. And help them in their need, unguessed by them. ( 4 ) But carrying on the spirit of the love Though for the moment severed. So pray we to the Love that giveth all, So hope we from the Love that knoweth all, Creator of that Love which bindeth us In his own time to bring us to that Love That, lost ourselves, we 'may therein be found. HER PROFILE. A wealth of golden hair, with chestnut shades, Which ripples back, with lovely little curls, Behind the shell-shaped ear it dare not hide ; The broad low brow, as snowy white and soft As ever were the wings of Venus' doves. Shows up the firmly pencilled eyebrow dark ; The little nose is straight, and if the tip Is chisel'd off, 'tis but to show the more The generous nostril and its shapely curve ; The eye full hazel, sometimes light, now dark, According to the owner's passing mood, And set in full beneath the envious lid, Which raised, reveals the circling iris large : On meeting mine the pupil so expands It, in the iris each in each seems merged. Till that soft eye is dark as Eastern maid's, The eyelash long, and thick, and jetty black. The lower curled upon the ivory cheek, A study quite divine in black and white. The lip is short, the mouth like Cupid's bow, Geranium lips reveal the little teeth. ( 6 ) Firm, white, and even they ; A smile, a laugh as merry as a child's Reveals a dimple in the cheek I love ; A perfect curve sweeping from ear to chin Gives dignity and charm to this fair face ; So does the neck so beautifully set, And kissed by tendril curls just at the nape. Far whiter it than are the rows of pearls Which nestle there. A shoulder gleams Through shrouding veil of even filmiest gauze And here my profile ends ! I SUCCESS. You ask me for the secret of success, And asking this you set a question hard. Join you much tact to perfect self-control : If you'v^e succeeded, it is due to this ; if you have failed, it's merely want of this (But failure is a word I do not love). Add but the touchstone of tenacity. And you must win, if Heaven has given you brains To know your measure ; that's where most folk fail. To seize your moment always ready be ; It may be you must handle it with care. Or grasp it like a nettle — you must judge. Be all things to all men, but always true To your own standard, never budge an inch For any one, when once you know you're right. Make sure what is your goal, then fix your mind Upon it, and let nothing intervene. Never say die, once only can we die, Early or late, accident, fell disease, Better the former, but 'tis as God wills ! Will not success bring happiness ? Why that ( 8 ) Is quite another story. Only this, No pleasure lies in failure. Take your choice. Few citadels are carried the first rush, And failure once may mean next time success, If you both patience have, and strategy. Thus, any way, it must solidify Your character ; that is something gained. I will not say success means happiness, Or what is happiness, until I'm dead. Ah ! then I cannot answer. We must wait. •PARTING AND MEETING. We said but little. Is there much to say When one you love is going for years away ? One only feels a desperate regret : If thus to part why had one ever met ? Yet this is folly. Life with love lived out Were better left unlived, without a doubt. Why should we pine for an existence grey, And not enjoy the sunshine whilst we may ? But though our words are few, our thoughts mean much. When, for the last time, a dear hand we touch. Perhaps it's but a hand-clasp and a sigh Amongst a careless crowd. Oh, Love ! good-bye ! So he is gone, and I must here remain, Ah, those left lonely suffer greatest pain. The chequered years pass by, of trifles rife Which after all make up the Book of Life. And he returned at last, and so we met: I heard him whisper, with a vague regret, ' It must be quite ten years come next December, She once was pretty, if I quite remember.' 10 TRUTH AND THE MAN. {From the ' Talmud.^) The Angels clustered round the great white Throne, The flight arresting of their mighty wings, Of countless tints, pearl, iridescent, white, Before the presence of the All-Adored. The world was perfect, finished, new create, No spot nor blemish could be found therein In bird, or beast, or flower ; all was there To joy the senses or delight the eye Except the crown of ail Creation — Man. So the All-Father mused upon his work, Satisfied he that it was fair and good. Then from the elements of earth evolved A newer form, and different from all else. It lay before the Glory on the Throne Untouched as yet by vital spark of Life, Like perfect marble statue it lay there. Inanimate, waiting the Father's will : This graceful form of symmetry expressed His latest mark of love and favour sent. The Angel forms with loving interest bent Over the silent thing, and then they cried, ( II ) And the bright morning stars the song took up, ' A being, O God, create, on earth to sing Thy praise, as we do ever sing it here.' Then other Angels came, and fain implored : ' Hear us. Almighty King, create no more. Lest the«weet harmony enjoyed on earth Like that in Heaven, should ever be destroyed.' Then came an Angel with great pinions white. And sweetest face, who forward lowly bent. ' O Father dear, make him as Thou,' it prayed ; ' With heavenly pity I will fill his heart. That for his sympathy for all on earth, In loving him, so shall they love Thee more.' So spake kind Mercy's Angel, but with tears An Angel, with soft pinions like a dove's. Knelt humbly there before the Mercy-Seat, With piteous accents to the Presence there The Angel fair of Peace beseeching cried, ' Create him not, O God ! Thy peace disturbed. Confusion, horror, war, will blot the earth ! Thou wilt no longer find a peaceful spot 'Mongst all Thy works on earth.' In trumpet-tones then Justice' Angel spoke, Folding his gorgeous, iridescent wings. Excelling the gay peacock in their sheen, And sheathing 'fore the Father his great sword : ( 12 ) ' But Thou wilt judge him, God, and thus must he Unto my sway, as others, subject be.' Then came Truth's Angel, with bright burnished wings, Swift borne on them towards the Throne of Light, And in imploring accents yet besought, ' Pause, O great God of Truth, in sending man To the dear earth, thou sendest falsehood too.' So all the Angels ceased, and in high Heaven There fell a silence, broken at the first By rustling sound of wings, but soon it merged Into a silence deep as that of death. And ever waxed the glory on the Throne, Till glowed a spendour, dazzling, wonderful ; And from its radiant midst, a still small voice Made itself heard 'mongst all that glorious host. Which no man ere could number. It spake thus : ' O Truth, with Man thou too to earth shalt go. Remaining yet a denizen of Heaven, To ever float betwixt the earth and here, A sweet connecting link between the two For evermore.' So ceased the voice. Then lovely Truth caught up the silent form, And bore it far away to earth's fair fields ; Tenderly laid it 'neath a spreading tree. The vital spark was placed on Adam's lips. And thus it was he woke in Paradise. 13 LOVE'S PALM. Love is a Palm, at first a tiny plant, The soil that suits it best is Happiness, Give it but that and it will grow apace ; Feed well its roots, and it will spathes put out Vigorous and strong. Give it the Sun of Love And it will shoot across the fair blue sky Its feathery branches. But, charming Lovers, mind you ever this. Just one sharp frost, and you may find your Palm No more as you would have it, strong and fair. But sickly, pinched and yellow, dying fast. The frost of cold indifference has reached Its heart. Alas! the truth is all too plain, It ne'er will grace Love's Garden fair again. H ISOLDEN'S LIEBESTOD. Thrice happy Iseult. Though you loved and lost, You lost to gain. Death was more kind than Life, And in that Death you triumphed ; he you loved Sent for you in his need, and swift you came As the white sail which love and pity spread Would bear you to his side : naught but the hate Of her your namesake (but your bitter foe) Baffled your purpose, though it missed its mark. When Tristan, wounded, cried, "' See you the sail — Iseult's white sail, who comes to bring me life ? ' In jealous hate she hissed, ' The sail is black,' Though white hued as the milky-breasted swan It clave the waters blue, as well she saw, But he, crying aloud, ' Iseult, my love. The love I trusted, hast t/iou broken faith ? Hast i/toi^ forgotten ? What is life to me ?' With groans despairing, turned him to the wall. And whispering ' Iseult ' with his latest breath Stretched himself out and died. So she, Our Irish Iseult, flying to his side. Found but the corpse of him, her only love. ( 15 ) What was King Mark to her, or marriage vows, What was the other Iseult standing there ? Why less than nothing ; for her thoughts flew back To happy days at her old father's Court In distant Erin, where as youth and maid They to each other all in all had been. She ne er remembered in the lapse of years What was all past and gone, of faith forgot, But, as a woman loving heart and soul, Forgave him everything. Careless of life, heedless of aught on earth, She threw her arms about the lifeless clay With a despairing cry that filled the room. She kissed the glazing eyes, whose chiefest joy Had been her queenly self, the lips, scarce cold, Whose earliest love vows had been hers alone ; Thus Death, being moved by sight of so much woe, Laid his kind hand on her. One pang, one kiss And her soul sped over the silver sea To him she loved. So they were joined again, Although in Life, in Death divided not. So she, Iseult, the wife, the jealous one. Was left with nothing but the senseless clay Of him she loved and her she hated most. So interlaced the two, that to their rest They were together laid. ( i6 ) Pity we Iseult live, not Iseult dead, Most happy she, in that she Hved to love. Twice happy she, since for that love she died, Thrice happy Tristan and Iseult the fair ; For the great mind who made the world and us So rich in music, ga.ve j/ou lasting fame. As long as music lives, to make our hearts Throb and vibrate, and waft our souls away To the far realms of subtlest harmony. So will the great Isolden Liebestod Delight and speak to those who understand, And turn our minds through the long ages back Unto the days when Iseult lived and loved, And left a tender story. I 17 AN AMULET. A CHARM you've given me to always wear From distant Egypt. I shall prize it much, Although the charm that ever warms my heart Is just the basilisk of your own eyes, And the dear voice I love to call my name. This little scarab of a turquoise blue, What are the figures meant to represent That I see engraved upon its base ? Tell me, are these Osiris, Isis, old Horemkhu, Thoth, or Pset the Terrible, Anubis, Psakt, the godlike Cat or Dog, Nephtys, or even ' Nilus' ancient worm,' Thus pictured forth ? Has it been found In mummy case of ancient Queen or King, Lapped in the sere clothes that encase the dead In some dark quiet tomb of countless age. Until unearthed by robber Arab hands ? Maybe, some priest deep learned, and well versed In all the wisdom of the mystic East, Who read the stars as though they were a book. Whose lore foresaw the future, knew the past, C ( i8 ) And magic practised, once its master was, Though dying in the end like other men. (For what is science pitted 'gainst King Death ?) Against a soldier's heart it may have beat, A general learned in the art of War And also that of Love. Many a koss It journeyed over Ethiopian sands Against the might of Babylon's great hosts And Fair Semiramis, the valued gift Of one who sighed and prayed for him at home. It may have once belonged to some dark maid, Who only used the magic of her eyes Three thousand years ago to gain her aim And win it as a love-gift. What a tale This little keepsake might to us reveal If it could speak, I will wear it aye, And love it ever for its donor's sake, As well as for its own. Such gifts are worth Ten million times their value in Love's eyes. I 19 WOMEN'S RIGHTS. What noise is this that irritates our nerves ? Wherefore this throng of women, eager faced, Loud voiced, and arguing, all of them at once (At this I marvel not, 'tis woman's way). Not lovely these, for Beauty it would seem 's Conspicuous by its absence, so is charm. I try to grasp the catchwords of their speech, ' Rights,' ' Wrongs,' ' Equality with Man,' ' A Vote,' ' The Franchise,' ' The same law for both,' Was ever such a catalogue before .-' Mistaken souls, go home and ponder well The golden lessons dear Dame Nature taught, Women we are whether we will or no So wherefore try to masquerade as men. In many ways we have the better part. The good we have why should we cast away ? We have done more to civilise the world Than have the men. Indeed, for countless years Our mission's been to help and humanise, To soothe, to bless, to elevate mankind. And make each generation following on ( 20 ) More worthy and more useful. We must set Examples bright as are the evening stars, And loved and loving pass along Life's ways. Some rights there are, I grant you, and these rights I would not only swift demand, but take. Give me a right to make the house I love The happiest spot for those I love still more ; Give me the right to love and to be loved, By right of sympathy with each and all, Give me a right to choose and keep my friends, For what is life without the Sun of Love ? Give me a right to call the poor my friends. For friendship is the sweetest thing on earth : Give me the right to make my children's lives As sweet and free from care as well may be ; Draw other bonds still closer and more close, And as sound seed in fertile soil well till'd Assurance gives of harvest's golden grain, So, scorning all that's poor, and mean, and small, Make life more full as speed the passing years, Till, on the day fixed for my passing hence, I claim as right the full six feet of earth Where all are equal. After that Nought but the clemency for which we pray. Such are our Rights, such is the end of them. 21 THE FAIRY GODMOTHER. They bid me be your Fairy Godmother ; What shall I say? What are the gifts I must endow thee with On thy Hfe's way ? Responsibility I own is heavy, And I must pause And give respect and due consideration To Nature's laws. First I would have thee good, though never goody, Endowed with tact. Alas ! I feel it was the quality That Eve so lack'd. Of beauty I will give thee a full measure, But not too much, For half earth's trouble and vexation Is caused by such. Full meed of health be thine, the greatest blessing I can bestow ; Enough of wealth, to save that care and trouble Too many know. ( 22 ) The jewel of contentment I will give thee And spirits high, I never heard of one who felt the better For moons to sigh. The crowning gift I keep until the latest, I give thee charm ; But use not this a woman's best possession To others* harm. And now I think I've well endowed thee, dearest, With all you need, So the last words I'd say before I vanish Are just ' God speed.' 23 THE STORY OF THE ROSES. You ask me to give you a rosebud From the basket gathered to-day, But it's an invidious selection When you think what the roses say. What ! you've nev^er known the old story, And never have heard it said, What mean their different colours, Pale, yellow, white, or red ? In old, old days, when the world was young And the garden of earth was fair. And hell was empty— for men were good, So the Devil had no fun there, He walked abroad (as he perhaps does now) In a temper not all serene, To mischief make, to study mankind. And see all there was to be seen. ( 24 ) He noticed 'mongst all the blossoms fair That graced the terrestrial bowers, For beauty and perfume loved alike, The roses were favourite flowers. He hobbled off with his cloven hoof To the lowest depths of dread Hell, A sinister smile on his visage vile. He'd a scheme which he thought promised well. A potion he brewed, and back he flew, And when all men sound sleeping were. With potions he watered the roses then And beguiled them with promises fair. The roses with hearts orange-tinted. Bring the love of gold or power, And hard as iron the dominant will Which seeks nothing but wealth's rich dower. The roses so velvety crimson Are passion's deep symbol and hue. And shame and sorrow, and even crime, Their votaries will aye pursue. The brighter pink roses are love-gifts ; When Satan (the fiend) interferes (We know it too often will happen) Love brings nought but trouble and tears. ( 25 ) The pale tea roses are friendship's own, But even here's sometimes a smart And heart-ache, and secret trouble gnaws, For the dearest of friends must part ; And the thorns that cruelly wound us And wiUi which these buds are e'er set Are the fears that at a distance Our friends may be apt to forget. But when he came to the sweet white rose, She said, ' I'll have nothing from you, My earthly life is the briefest one, But I have a duty to do. My blossoms so white will to-morrow On a maiden's bier gently lay, And with the evening sunset so bright We will end this Life's little day.' So thus Satan retired baffled As far as the fair white rose went. But the potion worked in the others And they gave forth far sweeter scent. How much the sin of the world is due To the rose and the Devil's brew I really can't unfathom at all, I but whisper the tale to you. ( 26 ) You ask for a rose from my basket, I know not which owe yoii would say ; But as / have told you the story I'll just choose you the one to-day. I'll have nothing of gold or passion, I'm not certain about the pink. So I offer a pale tea rosebud, Will you take it, do you think ? 27 LOVE'S VICTIMS. Ah ! Love is as old as the hills they say, Yet for some it was born but just yesterday And will be dead by to morrow — A God-given gift to all lovers true ; But to the heedless, and they're not few, 'Tis a fruitful source of sorrow. Love shows no mercy, its victims lie In serried ranks ; whether fight or fly, Your doom is sealed from the minute The blind God loosens his lethal dart And the golden shaft has pierced your heart, No matter if you would will it. 'Gainst King or Kaiser his hand's not stayed, Cophetua's here with his beggar maid ; And in immutable sequence. From the dullest clown to the wisest brain Which has mastered all that man may attain. Nay ! Here is the greater frequence. ( 28 ) There is Love as light as summer air, Which passing, scarce leaves a warm breath there On the flowers it kissed so lightly. It easy comes, it as lightly goes, As the daisies which now are tightly closed Will to-morrow bloom so brightly. There's the love that scorches and burns and sears, It will last for months, it may last for years. Ah, me ! 'tis the shirt of Nessus. No martyr ere suffered more poignant pangs. The more so if Jealou.sy's poison-fangs Heart gnawing must aye oppress us. It comes to the young, it comes to the old. From friendship it ripens to love untold, Of love at first sight they whisper. The Pearl of great price or Damnation sure. The joy of the world, or the sirens' lure. And the parting lovers' Mizpah ! Oh, be it blessing, or be it our curse, Our lives were empty or something worse Were it not for Love's refining. So drag we exultant our golden chain, If reap we the pleasure, then scorn we pain, Life's far too short for repining. ( 29 ) A FINNISH TRAGEDY. On the f^c, shores of Bothnia's distant gulf A while I tarried some short years ago, And by some chance, acquaintance there I made With a young girl, only a few months wed ; Blue-eyed, fair-haired, and slim, and very shy, Counting perchance some eighteen summers then. Her husband, vulgar, most unpleasing man, Treated her like his chattel or new toy As pleased his fancy coarse. His sixty years He carried none so well. Ah ! the poor child, I pitied her with all my heart and soul, She loathed him so, that coarse, repellant man. She had a cousin, one Carl Ericsson, Who owned a boat, and traded here and there Amongst the towns that fringe the Bothnian Gulf, A Swede was he, and active, fair and tall, And how she loved him, liow her face lit up When his firm footfall on the gravel path Announced his coming. He loved Thora too. She had been sold, to pay her father's debts, To the old man, alas ! who called her wife, ( 30 ) When Ericsson was far away at sea, And nothing knew of what had passed at hom° (My story is as old as are the hills). The day he came, there was a stormy scene ; But for a time things smoothly seemed to go, And if she and her Carl were sometimes seen With skates and sleigh, why they just cousins were, And she was young, and winter days are drear. The boat was beached, her husband better loved To count his wealth in the dark general store, And so that lengthy winter passed away. The summer came at last, the brig was gone, And Ericsson, of course, was gone in her ; But Thora now sat listless in the house. And nought would rouse her from her lethargy, Though now and then she started, as if one Had whispered something awesome in her ear. One summer's night, lit by the midnight sun. Their house roused others by the cries of pain That issued thence. The neighbours, rushing in. Found the old man in torture ; writhing there In agonies he died. Thora seemed As one entranced, and evil whispers grew ; So they examined the last cup he drank, And there the fatal arsenic was found ! Never a word was uttered by his wife, ( 31 ) Until she came before her country's Judge, And questioned was if she accomplice had. She gasped and started, Hke some timid fawn ; But when they pressed her sore with questions hard, She murmured, 'None.' 'Twas but to hide her shame, She knew he would have killed her and the child Had he but known ! This was her poor defence. So, proved unfaithful wife and murd'ress both, The last dread sentence of the law was passed. The people whom she oft had helped and nursed In need or sickness now like tigers rose, Growling as if they'd seek for her heart's blood. Setting aside all justice and the law That strict forebore to kill two lives in one ; Judges and executioners they were. They dragged her to the hill behind the town. And burnt her there. That beacon bright Guided Carl's ship, and brought him safely home, To face this modern tragedy. 32 FROM THE RUBAIYAT— VERSE 70. ' My soul returned to me And answered, "Thou thyself art Heaven and HelP" I STOOD upon a wind-swept peak alone, Enwrapt in stress and storm unutterable ; For I in wandering far had lost my way Seeking the happiness I could not find. The forces of the earth and air let loose Filled all that desolate spot with fearful din, Until a whirlwind caught me where I stood And swept me from my foothold, carrying me Outwards and onwards through the murkest night, Till I had left the storm and stress behind. And through the morning mists which curv'd away. More delicate than ever maiden's veil. The sun rose in a primrose-tinted sky. Changing from rose to blue. I found myself In a green valley carpeted with flowers, Where noble trees upreared their stately forms. Beneath their shade, the white anemones Spread out their starry breadth and fairy forms ( 33 ) The orchis pushed its purple-headed bloom Through the grass blades and their luxuriant growth; The violet scented every little nook, Whilst on the borders of the crystal brook, Which ever softly murmured down the vale, The wild forget-me-not peeped up with shy eyes blue. A fringe of trees and shrubs, a noble gate, Whose open doors invited strangers in And ample promise gave of garden fair. Enticed me in, a trespasser indeed. Shyly I entered and remained entranced, For, from the marble pavement where I stood. Stretching away as far as eye could reach, Rose terrace upon terrace, statue decked. And 'neath the shade of cypress and of yew Cool fountains splashed, with pleasant soothing sound, The ilex and arbutus shining green, The tamarisk and feathery bamboo, Made a deep background for the lighter joys That clothed the foreground. Myriad roses bloomed Of every shade, and fair delphiniums blue Shot up towards the even bluer sky. The velvet pansy at the lily's feet. Which turned its broad-rayed petals up to Heav'n, And scenting all, rivalled the sweet tube rose. The cannas flaunt their gay flamingo flowers, D ( 34 ) And waterlilies, golden, white, and pink, Sail on the bosom of the pools that gleam Amidst the trees, which promise soothing shade. The paths are greenest turf, clean-shaven, trim. Recessed I see a curving marble seat, White glistening in the brilliant noonday sun, A tiny temple sacred to the doves, Which coo, and coo, and here delight to dwell, Of marble white, all colourless 'twould be But for the clematis. Corinthian shafts. Which slender spring to bear the arching roof, Are here and there wound with a tendril fair, Pressing its purple stain upon the white. The brilliant parroqucts and parrots green Chatter away amongst the fruits and flowers And now and then indulge in circling flights For the pure joy of living. Pleased I see Not far ahead of me a building fair, A Bara Dari, welcome resting place Where I may sit and dream away a while. Hastening my steps, I near and nearer draw. Sweet sounds of music issue thence to greet The weary wanderer. Sweet lute and lyre Blend each with each, and ever blending still With voices soft conspire to lure me near. That music sweet thus slowly drew me in. ( 35 ) As snake by charmer ever must be drawn, A room of marble cool, the jewelled walls In wondrous patterns cunningly were wrought ; The chunam ceiling was itself inlaid With little mirrors. All was beautiful. And 'neath the dome, in basin oval-shaped And sculptured in the marble flooring fine, A sparkling fountain played and cooled the air. Beside the fountain, on a cushioned seat. Sat one whose merry eyes with wonder gazed At the fair trespasser, red-handed caught. He drew me down beside him, kindly tried To rid me of my fears. They vanished soon Beneath the magic of his voice and look. That thrill magnetic, and which has no name, Entered my soul, and all the world was gold. Never the fruit of the Hesperides Was fair as that of which we did partake ; The juice of grape was nectar from his hands. But sweeter far to me his eyes, his voice. Stealing my soul whether I would or no, Till, in a maze of joy, I lost myself. And still the music's strain first rose, then sank, Men's deeper bass the antiphone took up, Answered by sweet girl-voices far away ; Whilst from above, I know not whence it came, ( 36 ) Young boys in lovelier canticles replied. Ah ! Life and Love are good — and so I slept. Down, down, down, down. Will nothing stop me ? Vainly I clutch at space, At empty forms which only mock my pain ! I sink to depths unfathomably deep. Alone, always alone. What torture this Silence, the silence which you even feel, Wrapped in grey mists impenetrable, thick. Falling through space ! Launched into depths unknown, With every nerve, alas ! keen strung to feel The nameless pain which cannot be defined. At last I hang suspended in vast space, Enveloped in an ever-moving mist Which never breaks, but always weaves itself Into terrific shapes, each one more weird Than was its predecessor. Loud I cry With horror, and my own voice mocks me back. I shuddering sink to silence, I hid my face In my own hands, and then, alas for me ! The long array of deeds ill done unwinds. No crimes, perhaps, but the unending roll Of little sins long since forgot by me ; But dread remorse seized me in iron clutch, And I drank deep of this his gruesome cup. ( 37 ) Vainly I writhe, I cannot free myself From the just penalty. I cannot pay. Despair has laid his hand upon my heart, And I throw out my hands, I scarce know why, In abject supplication. Raising myhead, it seems a gleam of light Pierces the darkness that environs me. I gaze, and gaze, and gazing still I pray, Till from the whirl and swirl of those black clouds Which seemed to choke me, a far distant star Evolves itself from the dispersing mists. So small and faint I scarce its form discern ; But hope eternal springs, and as I watch Adown the slender shaft of light it casts A shadowed form descends. The emblem dear Of hope, salvation, and the other world Where we would be. Joyful this cross I grasp, And clinging, feel that I am safe at last, Whilst angel-voices whisper in my ear, ' He knows about it all, He knows, He knows !' ( 38 ) ALL SOULS' DAY. Of ail the days which garnered mal