-J ij»;ni jui ' *\/J I I T^ J \^ 1^' %0JI]V3J0^ ^OJUVDJO"^ ^5MEUNIVER%. o ^OF-CAlIFO%^ "^^AHvaan-^^ OS >\cOF-CAlIF0% '4: 00 ^ .•H.' Cl;. ^\^EUNivER% ^mm '^/5a]All| AWEUNIVER% ANCElfj^ ^\Nt-lIBRARYQ^ ^ ^>^t-LIBRAF '^.i/OJIlV} .5MEUNIVER% ^VlOSANCElfx^ ^OFCALIF0% .^,0F-CAIIF cic: l ADVEilTISEMENT. The following Poems are not the productions of one, who lias devoted, or who has been able to devote, the ijriucipal part of his time to the cultivation of the glorious art, of which he was born a lover. Ou the contrary, they have been chiefly composed during the intervals of professional leisure, when his health permitted him to devote to the lyre the time which was unengrossed by more imperious engagements. They are now, for the first time, collected and arranged, from the Publications in which they have, at different times, been inserted. Their appearance in this collective form is owing less to him- self than to others; but he is above the common hj-pocrisy of introducing them to the world under the apprehension that they are undeserving of its notice. Had he thought, or did he think them unworthy of the public eye, the pnblie eye would never have seen them. Having freciuently experienced in the perusal of miscellaneous poetry, the chilling effect which is produced by the rapid and unprepared transition "from grave to gay, from lively to severe"-- the pain which is occasioned by the rude and constant interruption of the previous train of association, when epigram is followed by elegy, and the beautiful by the burlesque,-- the Author thought of arran=-ing the Poems of his collection in a manner which, in part at least, would obviate this objection. By distributing them under different heads, he has accommodated them, as far as possible, to the various moods of mind, in which the volume may be opened; and though he would not willingly incur the censure of affectation, it will give him little pain, if his object be at- tained. He has only to hope that the Poems, thus collected, will be as favorably received, as they have previously been in their original form. From various and distant parts of the world, he has received assurances, that they have been read with pleasure and mentioned with praise; and in that Public, which he has found a friend before, he may hope to find a friend again. « Crediton. CONTENTS. BOOK I. LYRIC. The Miflsliipman's Song 1 Evening 2 Ode oil the Resurrection of Greece 3 Homer on the Banks of the Scamander 5 Lay of the Wandering Arab 10 H3nin to the Stars 12 Fragment of a Projected Ode on the luiluence of Fancy upon Mythology 15 To the First Swallow of the Year IG The Harp of Tears 21 Love 21 Evening Stanzas 23 Hymn to Libeity 2t Stanzas on the Execution of GL'ueral Riogo 30 The First Tale of Love 33 Lines written on an Evening of June 31 Written at 3Iiduight 36 To the First Primrose of the Year 37 On seeing the Name of Robert Emmet writ ton in his own hand npon one of his school books 33 Dirge for the Last Inca, supposed to be sung by a Peruvian Bard at the Tomb of Atahualpa .... 41 b 11 • CONTENTS. Serenade iH Lament of Alc.ccus upon {.Iw aimiviM'sarv of his Hcjcclioii by Sappho 47 Naval Ode, on the Dcpartnre of a Briiisli Man-of-war, to join the Alhcd Sqna(h-o!)s in the Mediterranean . . 51 BOOK 11. HISTORICAL, The Ten Thousand at the Sacred Mount 67 The Landing; of Agiippina witli tlie Ashes of GermanJcus 61 The Two Dreams of Julian 72 The Eve of Salamis 80 BOOK III. DESCRIPTIVE. Sunset 93 Starlight 9G Palmyra l«'l A Stroll in Marth 110 A Sea-Side Reverie 118 BOOK IV. DIDACTIC AND DEVOTIONAL. Alexander at Paradise 125 Thoughts on the Influences of Religion 131- Moral Lines 136 CONTENTS. iti Written at Sunset 137 Sorrows and Consolations 139 Fable 141 Hymn of Mary Magdalene 143 The Fall of the Leaf 144 The Bec-Hive 148 Morning 149 The Lily 152 Stanzas 153 The Devv-Drop . 155 Earth and Heaven 157 BOOK V. ELEGIAC. ^: To the Memory of Lord Byron 163 On reading some Poetry by a Young Lady now no more 16G Lines to the Memory of a Young Friend 167 On the Grave of a Friend 170 The Poet's Mourner 173 BOOK VI. LEGENDARY. Tiie Children in the Snow 177 The Star of Pomeroy 1S5 The Legend of the Copleston Oak ,^ . . 195 The Maid of Orkney 210 iy CONTENTS. BOOK VII. ANOMALOUS. A Grecian Droam 215 On a Portrait of Lord Byron 218 Thoughts in the Amphitheatre at Mount Edircunibe . . 219 Poetry 220 Sonnet 1. — To the Ruins of Ionia 221 2.— To Greece 223 . 3.— To Spain 223 4.— The Wood-Storm 224 . 5. — The Approach of Autumn 225 G.— To the Reader 226 TO GLORY. Soul of the far, but uuforgotten Past! Queen of the sword and Lady of the lyre! Spirit of thoughts too high, of deeds too vast, To fear, like clay, the waste of flood and tire, Or darkly perish on Oblivion's pyre — Whence, like the birds from Meninon's pile, they spring. Born from the dust, but not witli years to tire, Or furl in death the everlasting wingi Teach me. Oh teach me, but for once to fling My hand thy own triumphal harp along — To strike one strain, whose echoes yet may ring Above the spot where rests a friend of song! — Do I but dream the laurel yet may wave Memorial verdure o'er its votary's grave? Bm^ of (jTaetislic, BOOK I. LYRIC. DfUJ0 Of (ffa^talir* THE MIDSHIPMAN'S SONG. Tis a time of pride, when the bark is prancing, Like an Arab steed, o'er the waste of waves. While her path behind in light is glancing. And the fire-white foam her boltsprit laves! Then, then is the time for proud emotion — And if in the bosom a proud one sleep, 'Twill awaken to dance to the music of ocean. And sweep with the winds o'er the weltering deep! With my bark through her own blue path careering, I never can envy the landsman's bliss; — No sun on the shore ever shone so cheering. As it sparkles down on a world like thisi What music can make the heart so sprightly. As the roll of the billows ia the breeze? DEWS OF CASTALIE. What ball, upon earth ever shone so brightly. As the stirring dance of the sunlit seas? EVENING. Oh, this is the hour, the charmed hour. When the last faint gale of parting day Gives a kiss and a tear to each closing flower. And sighs as it fleets away; When visions of pure and holy Love, Like the dreams of the spirits in bliss above. Make the spell-bound heart their home, — And the sorrows of Memory cease to grieve. And Fancy and Hope a chaplet weave Of happier hours to come. This, this is the hour, the lovely lone hour. When Music floats on the glimmering wave: Though luU'd are the notes of each greenwood bower. And Echo sleeps in her twilight cave. DEWS OF CASTALIE. Yet along the side of the heath-clad mount. And by the light fall of tlie silver fount, Spirits are touching Iheir viewless wires And the dying breeze. That moans through the trees. Is charg'd with the tones of unearthly Ij'rcs. ODE ON THE RESURRECTION of GREECE. Ye, who for freedom bled, Immortal Dead, Hear in your lonely urns — Your country's Iron Age is fled Your country's Age of Gold returns? Oh, let it wake each grave, Ye holy Brave, Who drew the laurell'd sword. And spum'd in blood, from field aud wave, The ser\-ile Orient's despot lord! 4 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Spartan ! Thermopylae Will yet be free! — Thy own proud Marathon, Miltiades! remembers thee, Nor shames the dust of heroes gone. The fame-resounding main Rolls free again — Hear it, Themistocles ! — No more shall Greece behold in vain A tyrant's flag insult her seas. Her glad ^Egaean's tide Shall lave with pride A thousand slaveless isles; — Those crimson waves, with murder dyed. Shall gleam in Freedom's prophet smiles! Sweet Homer's clime once more. Its thraldom o'er. DEWS OF CASTALIE, Shall to those deeds aspire. Which yield to Fame her lofty lore And wake the thunder-bf-eathing lyre. And Glory's "flowers of gold" Shall yet unfold Their bloom in freeborn song; While despots tremble to behold The land, the race, they dared to wrong! Ye, who for Freedom bled. Immortal Dead, Hear in your lonely urns — Your country's Age of Tears is fled. Your country's Age of Fame returns ! HOMER ON THE BANKS of the SCAMANDER. Lone stream! and is this all Thy banks recall, 6 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Of valour, glory, grief and beauty gone ? Retains tliy silver flood No trace of tears or blood ? And towers thy Troy in Homer's dreams alone ? Are these the scenes deplored. Where shield and sword Bade the red field with splendid terrors burn? Did e'er this sAveet wind's breath Waft the dread sounds of death. Or charger's hoof the flowers of Xanthus spurn? Was it yon desert shore, That held of yore A thousand keels, and shook with war's alarms? Or o'er yon summits proud, Pavilion'd round with cloud, Did the lone Thunderer launch his burning arms?- Alas! long years yon sun DEWS OF C4STALIE. His race has run — And Glory's rainbows in Time's cloud expire; — Yet gleams of splendours gone Still gild their misty throne, Themes of the Sage's thought, the Minstrel's lyre. Oh, idly glorious wave. Where once the brave Slak'd their last thirst, and swell'd the crimson tide,- Lo, one sole lingerer roves. To gaze on Ida's groves. And dream of Troy by Dardan Xanthus' side! Can he behold in vain Thy haunted plain, Thy river, murmuring still of days no more — Nor strike the lofty shell, Their deeds and fates to tell. Who bled, or triumph'd, on Scamander's shore? 8 DEWS OF CASTALIE. No! Would the torch of Fame Might wake to flame His harp, and fire his soul with awful joy, — Till on bright Helle's flood Immortal navies rode. And Ida smil'd upon a deathless Troy! — So let Song's children live — Mid thoughts that give All the rich sunshine back of clouded years j And cull the purest blooms From this, their world of tombs, To crown the bowl whose wine so oft is tears! Free, fair as Ida's streams. Melodious dreams Should o'er their hearts in sunny beauty roll, And lave their lives from all That spreads a mournful pall O'er the cold world and o'er its votary's soul. DEWS OF CASTALIE. S How rich the Minstrel's dower. Were his the power To bid for ever Hve the faded name — To light his Song sublime By the dim waves of Time, Till farthest years roll'd brightening in his fame! Such be the wanderer's lot. Who, lone, forgot, Strikes his lov'd lyre beside a stranger-wave! Not, Oh not all in vain Be pour'd the enthusiast strain, Which breathes his deep hope of a glorious grave! Spirits of Song! Oh fire His heart and lyre — To him the far and phantom Past unfold, — Till bright o'er Lethe's tide The Star of Glory ride, And tinge its dark waves with prophetic gold! 10 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Then, though this frame be clay. Yet o'er luy lay Ages may pass, revering nations burn; — Green Ida's floods may be Immortal tears for me. And even green Ida's self her Minstrel's urn! LAY OF THE WANDERING ARAB. "Away — away, — my barb and I," — As free as wave, as fleet as wind. We sweep the sands of Araby, And leave a world of slaves behind I 'Tis mine to range in this wild garb. Nor e'er feel lonely, though alone j-^ I would not change my Arab barb. To mount a drowsy Sultan's throne! Where the pale stranger dares not come, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 11 Proud o'er my native sands I rove; An Arab tent my only home. An Arab maid ray only love! Here Freedom dwells without a fear-^ Coy to the world, she loves the wild: Who ever brings a fetter here. To chain the desert's fiery child ? What though the Frank may name with scorn Our barren clime, our realm of sand ? There were our thousand fathers born — Oh, who would scorn his father's land? It is not sands that form a waste. Nor laugliing fields a happy clime; — The spot, the most by Freedom grac'd, Is where man feels the most sublime! "Away — away, — my barb and I," — 13 DEWS OF CASTALIE. As free as wave, as fleet as wind. We sweep the sands of Araby, And leave a world of slaves behind? HYMN TO THE STARS. Aye, there ye shine, and there have shone, In one eterniil "hour of prime," Each rolling, bumingly alone. Through boundless space and countless time! Aye, there ye shine — the golden dews That pave the realms by seraphs trodj — There through yon eclioiiig vault diffuse The song of choral worlds to God ! Ye visible spirits! bright as erst Young Eden's birth-night saw ye shine On all her flowers and fountains first. Yet sparkling from the hand divine, — Yes, bright as then ye smil'd to catch DEWS OP CASTALIE. 13 The music of a sphere so fair, Ye hold yon high immortal watch. And gird your God's pavilion there. Gold frets to dust — yet there ye are; Time rots the diamond — there ye roll, In primal light, as if each star Enshrin'd an everlasting soul! — And do they not? — since yon bright throngs One All-enlightening Spirit own, Prais'd there by pure sidereal tongues. Eternal, glorious, blest and lone? Could man but see what ye have seen. Unfold awhile the shrouded Past, From all that is, to what has been. The glance how rich, the range how vast! The birth of time — the rise, the fall. Of empires, myriads, ages flown. Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worships — all C 14 DEWS OF CASTALIE. The things whose echoes are not gone. Ye saw rapt Zoroaster send His soul into your mystic reign-. Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend. The living hills his mighty fane! Beneath his blue and beaming sky. He worshipp'd at your lofty shrine; And deemed he saw, with gifted eye. The Godhead in his works divine. And there ye shine, as if to mock The children of a mortal sire: The storm, the bolt, the earthquakes shock, The red volcano's cataract fire. Drought, famine, plague, and flood, and flame, All Nature's ills, and Life's worse woes. Are nought to you — ye smile the same. And scorn alike their dawn and close. DEWS OF CASTAy.lE. 15 Aye, there ye roll — emblems sublime Of Him, Avhose spirit o'er us moves. Beyond the clouds of grief and crime, StilJ shining- on the world He loves; — Nor is one scene to mortals given That more divides the soul and sod. Than yon proud heraklry of Heaven, Yon burning blazonry of God ! FRAGMENT of a PROJECTED ODE On the influence of FANCY upon MYTHOLOGY. Inspired by thee, the Grecian swain, On some green cape's delicious brow. Gazing upon the glorious main That spread its purple robe below, With eyes half closed in reverie. Has seen the Ocean's Kin^' afar. And the young Sisters of the Sea Floating around his pearly car: — 16 DEWS OF CASTALIE. He sees their locks, that fringe the while With braided green the deep they lave — And that superb immortal smile AVhich, where it lingers, lights the wave! lie knows the strain that swoons along His golden East's voluptuous tide To be the Nereides' distant song Around their Monarch's path of pride! And there, as slumber heavier falls. Fond Fancy still his eye beguiles; With Nymphs he treads the blue deep's halls. Or, with the Just, their Shining Isles! To THE FIRST SWALLOW or the YEAR. Art thou return'd, swift racer of the skies, To course the breezes of my land again, And o'er these northern meads To skim the new-born flowers? DEWS OF CA.STALIE. 17 In what far zone while Winter darkened here, Ilast thou forgot the tempest left behind? O'er what strange seas displayed Thy heaven-directed wing, — To find the Summer which thou lov'st so well. To shun the ills which thou hast power to flee, And in some bright sojourn, Thy vagrant bliss enjoyj — Where foreign skies with vernal sapphire glow. And deep savannalis spread their virgin store Of greenest solitudes, s. And never -trodden flowers? But, whencesoe'er thou com'st, alike receive The lonely welcome of a simple lay. From one who fondly strives To weave his heart in soag. IS DEWS OF CASTALIE. Fleet pilgrim, bound to Summer's fragrant sliriae. Tracing her flight o'er ocean's dark-blue zones. Where'er her wing she rests The girdled world around — I hail thee, prophet of those fairy hours. Ere long to dawn upon our hearts and isles, When Nature yet once more Her bridal robe shall wear, Aiid braid her tresses with the glowing rose. And breathe profounder azure o'er the skies, And bid old Ocean tunc More soft his awful lyre. Soon will the thorn be hoar with May's rich snow. The lilac soon its flowery plumes display, And lithe laburnums wave Their locks of pendent gold. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 19 Even now 'tis sweet to dream of future hours, In the brown umbrage of the wood consumed, AVheu high the noontide sun Shall pour the burning day, — To dream of hours, when we shall muse on Truth In the green school of Nature; or call up The beautiful in death, By spells of magic song; — Or roam, perchance, the deep and leafy glen. Listing the clear brook, and the pastoral bell, "While many a quiet bleat Makes peace more peaceful still, And, lost by fits, the cuckoo's plaintive note, Mellow'd by distance, swoons along the vale. Borne on the sunny breath Of evening's golden fall. 20 DEWS OF CASTALIE. These are thy tales; and for them once again Welcome, fleet Halcyon of the Land ! Oh, long Float on these northern winds. And haunt our island flowers! — Enough of thee; — but there is One, to whom Even thou, frail thing of dust, canst lift the eye Of him, whose spirit owns. In all His works, the God. O Thou, whose word directs the swallow's flight, Guide of her path, and guardian of her way — Whose power upholds her wing Thine own wide waters o*er; — Led by Thy love and by Thy strength sustained, So may we safely pass our stormy world, And reach the shores of rest, The summer land of God! DEWS OF CASTA LIE. 21 THE HARP OF TEARS. Love, once on a time, with Sorrow his bride. Was amid the Nine bright Sisters' choir. And, as Sorrow was brushing a tear aside. It fell on the strino;s of a Muse's lyre. Oh, the golden chords had a smd before. But the warm drop gave them a heart beside; And Love has hallow'd the sweet harp more. Ever since it was wet by his tearful bride. LOVE. Oh Love ! what may thine emblem be ? — Thine is the Sybil's branch of goldj — Which gives us even on Earth to see Elysium's glittering gates unfold: And thine the foot of elfin power. Whose touch can make the spirit glow, Like the green ring that gems the moor. 22 DEWS OF OASTALIE. An emerald in a waste of woe. Such art thou when thy path is sweet. And leads o'er hope's delicious plain — • When youthful hearts in music meet. As summer winds the warbling main: Such is thy power, when thou dost come With wing of light and breath of flowers. And waken in thy votary's home, The lyre that rung in Eden's bowers. But Ah! far darker powers are thine — To bid fond hearts in vain to glow. No rose to bloom, no ray to shine. And lay young Hope in ruin low! — O baffled Love! thine are the hues That shroud in gloom the march of years j And, as the glow-worm lights the dews, Thou glimmerest on the dark heart's tears. DEWS Ol- CASTALIE. 28 EVENING STANZAS. Clouds of dun purple wrap the west. And white mists fringe the cold blue hills; The last breeze sighs o'er earth's duu breast, One lone rook seeks his distant nest. And breath, condensed from flowers at rest, The dreamy air with richness tills. As yet no drop of summer dew Bathes the brown leaf, or beads the flower j No solitary star looks through The desert sky's pale misty blue; But solemn Evening queens the view And Day and Night revere her hour. It is the hour for love — but not The hour for vain and vulgar lovej The Genius of each twilight spot Whispers of loved ones imforgot. Whose spirits haxmt the heart's deep grot. 24 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Whose love will bless its heaven above. It is the hour for thought — but far Be thoughts of guilt, of grief, or gain! Far hence be passion's withering war. Regret, remorse, and care's harsh jar. Pride, hate, revenge, and all that mar The music of the heart with pain ! — But every sweet and sacred glow To this soft hour of peace be given ! The sigh that speaks nor guilt nor woe; The tender calm; the melting throe; The thoughts that brighten as they flow. And warble to the waves of heaven ! HYMN TO LIBERTY. Sweet Liberty, wake thee ! too long hast thou slumbered — Can thy dreams be so dear, that they tempt to sleep on? DEWS OF CASTALIE. 25 Cast thy fetteis away, and the voices unnumbered Of a glad world sliall tell that thy thraldom is done ! Oh shall not, ere long, that soiled mirror be shivered. Which is dim with the sighs of pale Glory for thee; And the bright Sabbath dawn, in which millions delivered Shall lift their first hymn to the God of the Free ? Take the wings of the morning, fly over the world — There is many a land where the tyrant is lord; — Yet, oh shall not in all thy proud flag be unfurled. And the tree of life girt by thy cherubim-sword > The Persian who dared with the scourge and the fetter Insult the free waves of the Hellespont-sea, Did he do, sacred Freedom! aught wiser or better Thau those who lay scourges and fetters on thee? No, thy tides will yet rise in their strength and their scorn To wash every vestige of slavery awayj %G DEWS OF CASTALIE. And the thrones will grow pale in the light of thy morn. As the night-stars are drowned in the gold waves of day. One flood of redemption will sweep o'er the earth. That thy own victor-ark on the deluge may ride. And the peace-hallowed olive will be the first birth Of the world when at length the proud waters subside. Then, Oh then, shall arise, in its splendour millennial. The sun of free Truth o'er the mountains of Time; And Earth shall again wear the verdure perennial. And the amaranth she wore in her paradise-prime. Then at length in the wilderness fresh springs shall murmur^ Then at length in the desert strange roses shall bloom; While each year, as it passes, will rivet yet firmer Every bond of the rights which the nations resume. Say not, think not, the age, which the poets call Golden, Has passed from this bleak world for ever away; DEWS OF CASTALIE. 27 That no sunburst of promise will ever embolden The eagle to mount to the throne of the day! Already — already — the irons are starting From the hands of the millions thev pinioned so lonsr; Already the beams of young Freedom are darting On the statue they warm till it hails them in song. In the World of the West the bright ensign of Union Is floating o'er nations enlightened and free; And soon will all join in the splendid communion From the heart of the land to the isles of the sea ! The pure laurels of Washington yet will be green In the realms where the Inca and Spaniard hav« reigned; And the Andes will look down on one happy scene Of glory redeemed, and of freedom regained. And Hellas — dear Hellas! — the same brilliant standard From Eurotas to Dirce ere long will be thrown 2S DEWS OF CASTALIE. Abroad in those winds, which for ages have squandered Their sweet breath on the flag of tlie despot alone. No more shall the Greek in degenerate terror, Brook the scourge and the chain in the shade of the sword; No more shall the free wave of Salamis mirror The colours that tell of an Ottoman Lord ! In vain may the bands of the Orient environ The hosts of a nation with glory on fire; — No slave will unhallow the death-land of Byron, No freeman forget the last notes of his lyre ! And thou, too, Riego! how fond was the dream That thy blood would cement up a half-fallen throne — That the hearts of the race thou didst rise to redeem Only caught the proud pulses of hope from thy own! Thy patriot-sword may be sheathed for awhile. But it yet will be drawn by a patriot's hand, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 29 And the Spirit of Freedom will look down and smile, A.S she waves her bright wing o'er a t3Tantless land. Over Spain's hundred liills, and her beautiful valleys, The cry of deliverance yet will be heard; And the serf in her huts, and the slave in her galleys, Wiii feel their hearts leap at the paradise-word. Forl)id it that any unhallowed Ailiaace Should hold the crushed nations for ever in thrall — That the few should long bid their imperial defiance To the reason, the faith, and the glory of all! No! mankind will yet wake to a loftier duty, Than that which enjoins them to sink into slaves; And their eyes will be opened, though late, to the beautv Of Truth that ennobles, of Freedom that saves ? Thy first steps, lovely Liberty! sometimes may falter — But thy march will not cease, nor thy banner be furled, D 30 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Till thy conquering hand shall have reared a proud altar To the God of the Free o'er the thrones of a world! STANZAS ON THE EXECUTION of GENERAL RIEGO. Ungraleful Spain! Riego's gone, — Cau lives like his Ipe given in vain } Was it for nought thy gallant son, The last of Spaniards, died for Spain? Go hail, before yon iron throne. The royal traitor's abject reign — Forget, forgive, a realm undone. The invader's sword, the vassal's chain! But no, wronged land! it cannot be — Tiiou wert not made the clime for slaves: Tiiou yet hast sons who feel for thee, Whom the yoke bows but not depraves. The stranger's eye from far may see There sleeps a storm on Spanish waves; DEWS OF CASTALIE. 31 The lordly race will yet be free. Or proudly rest in freemen's graves. What though along their lovely land The venal Gaul his steed has driven. To bind again with ruthless hand Her chains, for one bright moment riven ? Her gray Sierras still command A thousand scenes to glory given, Where Freedom's flag will yet be fanned By all the winds of smiling heaven'! Riego's gone — and Spain once more Obeys a princely reptile's nod. Who claims (the tyrant's only lore) The right to wrong the world of God: — A meaner miscreant ne'er before On God's free world to scourge it trod; — Alas, that such have power to pour The blood that stains a despot's rod! — 32 DEWS OF CAST/VLIE. As die the brave, Riego died — Witli Freedom's Martyrs lives his name — But oil ! that, stretched in martial ■pride, His corse had graced the tield of fame! Yet Riissel's nerve the scaffold tried. And Emmet met the tree of shame: — Round each dark spot where freedom sigh'd, Such memories twine a sword of flame. Riego's sword is broke — but not Lost is his glory near or far; His deeds shall yet be unforgot In future fields of happier war; — In the freed peasant's peaceful cot His praise shall wake the sweet guitar; While Bourbon's name his gore shall blot. His own shall shine — his country's star! And thou, his land! thy Pyrenees — Where they not piled to fence the FreeY DEWS OF CASTALIE. 33 Still wilt thou drain the bitter lees Of woes and wrongs for years to be? Rise in thy might — arise, and seize The birthright long vvitheld from thee; And sound in every Spanish breeze The dirg6 of buried Slavery ! The first TALE op LOVE. Ah, see \vhere the tender tale is telling — To her downcast eye the glad tear rushes, Tlie deep sigh of bliss from her bosom is swelling. And her cheek, half averted, is burning with blushes! Nor yet does she open her heart's recesses. Half doubling her joy, and half believing; In secret the spot and the moment she blesses — But her lips faintly murmur that men are deceiving, While, looking fond triumph, her raptured lover Presses the arm that on his reposes, 31 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Reads in her mien what no tongue could discover. And tells her her path shall be all over roses: And brightly as swells the moonlight ocean, When the breath of a sweet summer-night floats over. So heaves her fair bosom with tender emotion, So soft on her ear fall the words of her lover. Oh, who but has felt or fancied the pleasures A moment of love so pure can awaken ? And what is the ivorld, with its toils and its treasures, That for it tiiis floweret of Heaven is forsaken ? Give the lover, with her whom he loves at even To rove by the stream of their own dear valley — To the cold hearted world be its vanities given .' Our life is too short with its spring-flowers to dally. LINES WRITTEN ON AN EVENING OF JUNE. Oh, 'tis soothing to list where the lone woodlark sings. In the beautiful haze of a summer day's even. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 33 While soft dews and pure incense the passing gale flings. And the star of love gleams like a spirit in heaven! Oh, 'tis soothing to list, at that magical time. To the whispers that breathe through the glen and the bower. To the low breeze that mellows the far evening chime. While it prints its sweet kisses on wave, leaf and flower! — For there dwells a deep charm in that dim vesper hour, Which recalls to the heart all it ever held dear. Which awakens past sorrows, but softens their power, And embalms every sigh, and illumines each tear. Oh ! how dear in that hour are the lone lover's dreams, When the Spirit of Beauty moves brightly along; When alone in the blue sky the light of love gleams. And the winds are all fragrance, the echoes all song! But far svt'eeter than all are the dreams that remove From the eye of the mourner the shroud of the tomb, 36 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And lay open, where, radiant in glory and love. The loit blossoms of Earth in their own Eden bloom ! WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. AVho can ever look up to yon beautiful arcli, Where the moon shines in holy and hallowing lighf. And the planets lead round her their radiant march Through the shadowy depth of the azure midnight; — Who can ever look up to those beautiful orbs. Nor dream that he breathes in a world all unknown. Where the music of heaven his spirit absorbs, And thrills from a heavenly heart to his own ? Oh tliese are the moments to dream on the dead And think where each dwells in his own happy isle; And the tear that in these blessed moments is shed, Leaves a trace on the heart never left by a smile. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 37 To THE FIRST PRIMROSE of the YEAR. Child of the early year, Thy stormy lullaby Sweeps o'er my ear In the rude wind's wintry sigh. Thou look'st in beauty forth. To tell the tale of spring. Ere yet the North Has unfurled his cloudy wing — In other zones to reign, Through polar pines to roar, Aiid lash the main On the sullen arctic shore. The winds thy cradle rock. To their stern melody. As if to mock At thy pale fragility. 38 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Yet there thou blooraest on Like worth by sorrow tried, Rearing its crown Mid the storms of time and tide ; — And looking to the sky, Where all such flowers shall wave (No more to die) In the winds beyond the grave. On seeing the NAME of ROBERT EMMET written IN HIS OWN HAND UPON ONE OF HIS SCHOOL-DOOKS. This was written when he was a light gay boy. Whose voice was to fire the listening band Of the brave who arose, with tearful joy. For the rights of their desolate father-land. All, little he thought when he traced those words. That his sun should go down in a sky so dim. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 39 That a scaffold sliould break his heart's fine chords, And the grave of tlie felon be dug for hmiJ Ah little he thought, when he \vrote that name. It ever would act as a talisman-spell. To awaken the blush of his country's shame. That in vain the Wallace of Erin fell ! Yet happy in death, since he now no more Shall gaze, with a heart to madness stung. On tlie curse that withers his parent shore And the tears from her friendless millions wrung; — Since he now no more can share or see The chains from the depth of his soul abhorred — The chains of the race, whom he rose to free, When he drew in their name the sacred sword I Could he now return, and behold the land For which he had felt with a lover's love — 49 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Could he hear a nation iu vain demand The mercy denied, except above; — Could he feel the weight of his country's load — See her fields of dearth, and her homes of pain — He ^vould hate the light for the scenes it showed. And kneel for the boon of a grave again ! And was it for nought that he breathed his last By the death the brave most fear to die — That victorious Guilt with her trumpet-blast. Gave his name to the winds of infamy ? Has he won but this — that over Iiis tomb Even Hate for a moment blushed to smile. And that they, who had sealed it, mourned the doom. Of him who died for iiis Orphan Isle? Believe it not! — Oh, rather believe That his spirit, like those of the Saints ou high, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 41 Tlie cloudy glooms of tiie grave Avill cleave From beneath the Golden Shrine to cry! Nor yet in the earth will his free blood sink — It shall rise ere long in a fount of flame. While a nation's hearts of the bright wave drink, Which for ever murmurs of his name ! And the harp, too long in darkness hung. Shall awaken in Liberty's sunbright smile. Till her Martyr's meed of ftime be flung Upon all the winds of his own Green Isle ! DIRGE FOR THE LAST INCA, Supposed to be sung hy a Peruvian Bard at the Tomb of Atahualpa. Gods of Peru \ Say, can ye view. Unmoved, the grave our tears bedew? Is it in rain 42 DEWS OF CASTALIE. On mount and plain. We pour the blood, and pile the fane? Tradition sings That from you springs The royal line of Sun-born Kings; — Yet here we pine — To dust consign Tlie last of that immortal line ! Had he but died. In plumed pride, A warrior's death, his ranks beside, Less wild might flow Tlie streams of woe O'er one so laid iu glory low. But thus to fall Bereft of all That strews with flowers the princely pall- DEWS OF CASTALIE. 43 In felon's band, B\' pirate's hand A traitor in his father's land ; — 'Tis this that gives The pang, which rives Onr hearts, and with their pulse survives: For this around Yon funeral mound. Onr hot tears scorch the mournful ground! An empire's tears Flowed round the biers Of his fallen Sires in olden years;' — But then they came Undimmed by shame. And bright with past and future fame! Shade of the dead ! O'er thy low bed 44 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Au orphan people's hearts ha^e bled: — They live to moau Hound yon pale stone, O'er the last Inca's buried throne! Calm be thy rest Among the Blest! By kindred hands thy couch be drest ! Eternal flowers Perfume the bowers That shade thy soft and golden hours! I see the gloom Pass from thy tomb — I hail thy bright and blissful doom l What sacred fires Shall warm thy Sires, When deathless air their Child respires! In some green glade DEWS OF CASTALIE. 45 Famed Manco's shade For thee a wreath divine shall braid: His bards shall sing. In shadowy ring, A welcome to the Stranger -Kinff' — Alas, in vain. My heart — my strain — Would veil in hope the face of pain; — I think alone Of glories gone. An empire's wreck — a stranger's throne! In sighs, the lay Expires away — Peru has closed her splendid day! — What thoughts rebel, I may not tell .... Dust of my King, a deep farewell! E 4,6 DEWS OF CASTALIE. SERENADE. AVhen winds to rest are sinking, love. And flowers the dew-fall drinking, love. My thoughts to thee For ever ilce. Round thy bower a charm'd ring linking, love! There they speed like the shaft to its mark, my fair. At the meeting of light and dark, my lair, At the lover's day-dawn. When the moon's on the lawn And the nightingale sings for the lark, my fair! AV'Iien not a wave is foaming, love, A:id nought but Passion roaming, love. Let thy thoughts with mine la memory twine. At ilic soft sweet hour of "loaminar, love! Tliink of me when tiie bright stars lave, my fair, And (lance in the stream they pa\o, my fair. As if every star DEWS OF CASTALIE. 47 Had shot from afar. To hold a ball on the wave, my fair! Wliile all in beauty's shining, love. And all at rest reclining, love. Remember him Whose lieart is dim, In the midst of peace repining, love .' And when in thy bower to heaven, my fair. Thy spirit at night is given, my fair. Let thy pure thoughts rise To their kindred skies In a prayer for the heart thou hast riven, my fair! LAMENT OF ALCjEUS upon the anniversary of his REJECTION BY SAPPHO. In vain, alas! in vain My native main, Thy glad waves roll in light and music nigh: — 4S DEWS OF CASTALIE. Unlike himself of yore, Alcaeus seeks thy shore. To muse on Sappho's lyre and Sappho's eye. Once more the day of gloom. Whose mournful doom Gave me to tears, renews their bitter flow 5 — Once more Affection mourns. As o'er its wreck returns The wave that laid its treasured all below. Love wails on Memory's shore. For Hope no more — Deep sunk in time's, but not oblivion's wave: — Lost as may be my all, Tis sweet yet to recall The tender Past, and wake its tear-green grave. No more, on this sad day. My silent lay DEWS OF CASTALIE. 49 Shall leave the Past to sleep without its fame j But from my heart, though dim — • Like the sad shade-bird's hymn — Shall melt in solitude melodious flame. Albeit none living e'er The strain may hear. It soothes to weave the sorrow-breathing song — . Though vain as is the dirge, Borne o'er the reckless surge. For those who rest the gray deep's caves among. Lone Lady of my soul ! Long years may roll. But still, oh still, my heart will all be thine: Still as these hours return. Shall purer incense burn. And holier myrtles wave around thy shrine! Oh, as this day floats by, 50 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Will not one sigh Be given to him, through time and change thine owni Will not thine eye be dim With one bright tear for him, Whose love yet lasts, though Phaon's love be flown? Sad heart! it is thy lot To be forgot — But never to forget the golden past : — Of thee no rehts dwell In her young memory's cell — No shade on her one thought of thee will cast! Yet still that magic name Shoots through my frame. And wakes my heart, as breezes sweep the lyre; Still, still, alas! I feel The wound no time can heal, And in sweet madness feed the wasting fire. DEWS OF CASTALIE, 31 Lone Lady of my soul! Long years may roll, Bat still, oh still, my heart will all be thine: Still as these hours return. Shall purer incense burn. And holier myrtles wave around thy shrine ! NATAL ODE, On the Departure of a British Man-of-war, to join the Allied Squadrons in the Mediterranean. T!ie end of war is peace — For peace is her flag unfurled; — She is gone to sweep the seas of Greece, In the might of her island world ! Deliverance for the friend. And vengeance for the foe. And mercy for the vanquish'd blend In her glorious wake to go! She bears the thunders of the sea — But they only strike the slave to free! 52 DEWS OF CASTALIE. 'Tis not Ambition's wind. That swells her stately sail; 'Tis not Revenge impels behind. Nor Interest wakes the gale: — Another, holier breeze Speeds her march o'er the billows blue, As she sweeps the Grecian seas Her country's best to do ; — The sighs that have breath'd o'er Canning's grave. Have wing'd her course o'tr the ocean-wave ! The Eagle of the Deep, With the lightnings in her hold. Has spread her strong wings forth to sweep O'er the glorious waves of old ! — Joy to those for whom they strike ! Woe to those on whom they fall ! But hail to the smile and the tear alike For The World shall exult in all — And bless the hour, when her white sea-wing DEWS OF CASTALIE. 63 Was spread from the Isles of the Ocean-King! Bid her welcome to your shore, Ye sons of hero-sires, With the flash of the swords of yore. And the sound of your ancient lyres! With the shout of the free and brave. With the song of the young and fair, O welcome the keel that speeds to save And the high hearts beating there! Let the echoes of glad Thermopylae Repeat the Hail from the distant sea! Oh that the soul of Greece Might re-inspire her frame With the lore of war and peace. With freedom and with fame! Oh that her streams might roll Unstain'd their glens along ! Oh that one freeborn poet's soul Vl DEWS OF CASTA LIE, Might pour one freeborn song. To bid the immortal raouvitains stand Memorials of a chainless land! The hour has come at length That never comes in vain — Degenerate Greece has tried her strength, And riven her Asian chain! — Then speed thee nobly forth. Proud Eagle of the Sea ! And bear the thunders of the North To set the Orient free ! Return not, till new glory smile Upon the glorious Main and Isle f 13fii30 of C*a0talif, BOOK II. HISTORICAL. 13fU)0 Of (ta^talie* The ten THOUSAND at the SACRED MOUNT. They had seen Cynaxa's field. Where they fought so vainly well — For, though back in rout the foemen reel'd. Yet the princely Cyrus fell! Could it aught avail to them That the Golden Eagle fled? He who fought for Susa's diadem. Was among Cynaxa's dead ; — Their paean had drown'd the parting groan Of him who struck for a grave or throne ! They had heard Euphrates rush In the might of his own deep wave ; They had seen the infant Tigris gush From his far Armenian cave; 53 DEWS OF CASTALIE. They had seen the Ephesian pile. The hut of the mountaineer, And fought through many a red defile With the sling, the sliaft, and spear : — Of their brave ranks, some of the bravest lay 111 a nameless grave of foreign clay. Underneath the snow-born pines Of the wild Carduchian hills. They had thought of their country's wines By the foeman's icy rills: At the eagle's scream, they had thought On the nightingales of home: — " Could such," they had asked, " be the lure that wrought Upon Greeks from Greece to roam ?".... As they thought of the hour when they blindly sold Ten thousand swords for a stranger's gold. They are scaling Theche's side — Their van is on Theche's brow — 4 DEWS OF CASTALIE, What means the pause of the martial tide. And the eartliquake-cry below? — To the sword the tired arm glanced, And the languid foot trod proud; Over each worn clieek the stern blood danced, Like the fire-fiash over the cloud; The hero woke in each weary man — For tliey deem'd the foe was upon flieir van! On they nishd as to the fight — But it was no battle- word; For "Ihe Sea! the Sea!" from the mountain's height In a thousand thouts was heard! "The Sea! the Sea!"— that cry Seem'd the end of toils and fears; And of all that liost, not a freeman's eye Bat was dim with rapturous tears, As lie saw from the Sacred IMount again, Like a line of blue cloud, the distant Main! 60 DEWS OF CASTALIE. At the shout, the eagle swung From his eiry far away, And the Colcliian pheasant sprung From his dark wood to the day! — All bright fell the westering sun On the warriors' moving ai'ms; By file upon file the height was won. Till an Army's glad alarms Arose — as if life and liberty Were in one far glimpse of a stranger-sea! It was long ere the echoes were still That around and afar replied — Long ere on the Sacred Hill The shouts of a myriad died. Then rose the full tones of a lyre. And a young voice swell'd the sound ; Every eye through its tears shot fire. As the warriors throng'd around; They leaned on their spears in a tranced ring. DEWS OF CASTALIE. Gl Mute as the Nine round the Delphic King. 'Tvvas a pale Greek girl, whose hand There strayed the deep chords among. And who pour'd in the stranger's land The soul of her country's song: — Light was wan to the dark of her eye. As it flashed on the distant sea; She swept the string-s though her breast throbb'd high, With a hand all firm and free; And rich was the voice, and proud the strain. She gave to the winds of the Euxine Main: — All hail — all had — thou glorious Sea? — These burning tears alone may tell With what deep joy I welcome thee. And see thy blue Elysium swell Again — again — as if my soul Shared in thy own exulting roll? F 62 DEWS OF CASTALIE. "We have been strangers all too long, For I was bora the Ocean's child ; To thee I gave my early song. When hope and home around me smiled — Ere yet Love taught, in lands afar, To trace the crimson steps of War. I saw the light in Homer's isle — And every island child is thine; But never did thine azure smile Seem, even to n.^j, ^o all divine, As now, wlien first I view once more Thy face — the pledge of dangers o'er! Dear to tlie free thy chainless waves — A:k1 I was born among the freej Lons have I breathed the air of slaves — But still, oh still, to thine and thee IMy heart would turn, and pine to gaze Upon tliee, as in early days. DEWS OF CASTALIE. C3 I saw the sweet Cayster wind, I passed the broad Euphrates' flood, I heard swift Tigris chafe behind. On wild Araxes' banks I stood; — But all their waters roll'd in vain — I\Iy heart was on the free blue main! Our vows are heard, our task is donc- A"ictors! the sea before you lies! The amaranthine wreath is won. That with the dying never dies .' — Yours will be memories to inspire Tiie patriot's heart, the poet's lyre! Your arms have lit a Phasis' banks. New to the sound of Jason's name ; And warriors! ytt your victor-ranks Will dim the light of Argo's fame. When yonder deep shall idly foam Behind the barks it wafted home. 61 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Farewell the fear of foreign graves! ' Tis not for you, in hostile earth. To mingle with the dust of slaves, Far from the bright land of your birth j — No ! share, where your free fathers died, Their slumber's peace, their memory's pride! Pile high the trophy — 1 et it stand In future years the tale to tell. How through the proud barbarian's land, Ye fouglit your way so redly well! — Where is the Orient's sword or chain ? The Myriad see the Main again ! — The landing of AGRIPPINA with the ASHES OF GERMANICUS. The wide beach seemed alive — So dense was the crowd it bore It looked as an armed host might strive DEWS OF CASTALIE. In vain to reach the shore. The young and the gray-haired stood The shelving sands along; The rocks that looked on the ocean-flood Were rife with the gazing throng ; Nor conld sex or age one foot restrain From the dark human mass that banked the main. The Cit\% where Maro died. Had sent forth all her throng: Nor these alone to the full beach hied — But the Land that loved his song Poured forth, from the cities afar and near. Her thousands to the Bay, Till the foremost, prets'd by the crowding rear. Often touched the spangled spray; — They heeded it not — for each heart and eye Was fixed where the bright deep lined the sky. Calm and soft was the morning hour 66 DEWS OF CASTALIE. While the Day-kiiig upward rodei And the burning East, as ho left his bovver. Like a sea of opal glowed. Tho green Calabrian plain, The deserted City's pride, The expanse of Adria's sapphire main. And the far hill's misty side — All glowed with a light, so rich yet mild. It seemed as on Earth the Sun-god smiled! Yet his smiles to tlirm Avere nought — For, of all that countless band. Not a brow, undimmed by the cloud of thought^ Might be seen o'er the peopled strand. Silent they gazed, or spoke AVith a low and mournfid tonej And, in every wan and anxious look. Was a tale of hopes o'erthrown : The robes of the' tomb on each breast were seen. And the sunk eye told of the grief within. DEWS OF CASTALIE. (J7 They had watched till hope grew pain, For tlie glimpse of a distant mast; — But the\ would not think they gazed in vain — And it met their gaze at last! Every eye was keenly strained On the specks that rose in view. Until, as the nearer deep was gained. The Imperial Fleet they knew: — One murmur arose " They come ! they come !" And the voice of the mighty mass was dumb. Near and more near they bore — Can it be thy navy, Rome! Do thy sons thus greet their native shore, And thy ships their native foam? In solemn silence all. They heavily drew nigh; And it well was seen, by the oar's slow fall, That it bore no freight of joy: — One Galley before the rest swept on, 68 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And the eyes of all were on hei' alone. She neared the marble pier, And veiled on her deck was seen — A sight to claim a Roman tear — • The Ceesar's widowed Queen! In her arms she closely press'd A Vase in a sable pall ; - And the funeral robe, on her stately breast, Miglit be seen to rise and fall; While around her knees with their youijg arms twine Two orphan hopes of the Julian line. Proudly she stepped to land — In despair she forgot not pride — And there from the Vase with a wasted hand. She drew the pall aside : — 'Twas their Hero's golden grave — Was it thus they hailed him home? Famed, feared, and loved — the benign, the brave — DEAVS OF CASTALIE. 69 Had he only risen on Rome, Like a beautiful star, for a brief hour bright. To leave them wrapped in a sabler night? As from the fatal Vase She drew the dark veil's fold. The sun with a clear and ghastly blaze Illumined the Urn of gold : — It seemed as the sad gleam broke Some spell which had hushed the throng; For to one wild cry the echoes woke The resounding shores along! — Over land and main it swelled the gale. And it rung like the voice of an Empire's wail! Oh, there was in that cry What struck to the heart like a knell 5 — 'Twas the burst of a nation's agony. As it bade to Hope farewell! Despair spoke in the sound 70 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Wliich like tliuiider rose and rung. As if the waters a voice had found. And the hills an earthquake's tongue: — So wild was the wail o'er dear hopes vain. The tall mast rocked on the trembling main ? Even the war-worn veterans wept, Nor blushed for the tears they shed Over him whose dust for ever slept In that narrow golden bed. They recalled when his eagles flew On the banks of the reddening Rhine; Nor less when his laurell'd legions drew To the Roman Thunderer's shrine, And, with five royal babes in his splendid car. He graced the pomp of his country's war. And she — that Hero's wife, The daughter of their gods — Who had left to share his martial life. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 71 Her Sires' august abodes — As they gazed on her, anew The pitying tear-drop sprung, To think that a spirit, so higli yet true. Should be thus from its proud hopes flung — That the asp should thus unheeded glide To the bower and breast of a Conqueror's bride. Yet amid that mourning crowd, Tearless and mute she moved. Though her handmaids round her wailed aloud — She mourned as she had loved ! Tears were too weak to prove The grief that swelled her soul — The depth of a proud heart's lonely love. When the dealh-waves o'er it roll! — She clasped the Urn to her burning heart One kiss ! the dead and the desolate part ! The noblest of the land 72 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Received the sacred trust: 'J And, ranged in a sad and solemn baad. They bore the imperial dust: Wherever they passed, there breathed Incense from altars round ; And the flowers of the grave, by fair iiands wreathed. Were strewn o'er the mournful ground. Till the glorious dust at length found room On the Tyber's banks, in the Caesars' tomb. THE TWO DREAMS OF JULIAN. In his pride the sun went down On the gilded waves of Seine; And the crescent moon on tent and town Shed her pearly light serene. A slumbering army lay Under hushed Lutetia's walls. Who had filed that morn, in arm'd array. Through her streets of festal halls. DEWS OF CASTAHE. 73 Wliere laurel hung over every door. And flowers were scatter'd their ranks before. There's a light in the palace bower, Where the lone gold cresset gleams Far beyond the midnight hour, Though with faint and waning beams. Why burns so late and long The lamp in that chamber high? Why alone, amid the slumbering throng. Does the Caesar wake to muse and sigh? He has dared his fate — he has staked his all — For his father's eagle flies in Gaul! He had flung the purple by, But its spell remained behind; For the mien of conscious majesty Is not with its robes resigned : On his pale but princely brow The strife of his soul was shown. I 74 DEWS OF CASTALIK. By the cresset's faint and fitful glow. While he paced his bower alone : — As the sage, the prince, or the subject swayed, His heart like a plume in the war-breeze played. Long he thought on his future path. On the perils he must brave. Oil an empire's love, and a tyrant's wrath, A throne, or a traitor's grave. At length, on the regal bed His limbs tlie Augustus threw. And woo'd, with a fever'd heart and head, Late oblivion's welcome dew : He slept with his purple around him furl'd, He dreamt like the king of the Roman world! For he seem'd, in that broken sleep, Rome's awful Spirit to view : — Round the Form, with slow and stately sweep, A dim phantom-eagle flew: DEWS OF CASTALIE. 73 His voice was the voice of fate Aud eternity glass'd his eye — He stood at the palace gate. And call'd with a Mnilhng- cry On the name of the sleeper, whose blood ran <'ol«1 To see the Shade of tlie days of old. "Wake Julian!" the proud Voice spake, "Thy glory or shame is mine: 'Tis the Gaiiius of Rome that calls to wake The last of a throne-born line! Was it all in vain I fiew The path of thy fame before. When over the Rhine thy legions drew, And it five times roll'd in gore ? Arise! too long the Spirit of Rome At the Ceesar's gate demands a home!" — T!ie beads were on his brow. As the voice fell on his car; 76 DEWS OF CASTALIE. But the soul, that feels tlie hero's glow. Will not long be chilled by fear. He started from his sleep, With his hand upon his sword. And he swore by the Roman Jove, to keep The oath in his deep heart stored — That, before he sheathed the sword he drew, The Sun-bird of Old sliould its youth renew ! And well he kept his word. As his Country's page can tell! From the fields of Gaul the Imperial Bird Wing'd a last flight wide and well. But alas! while the path he trod Which his name with a proud wreath twines, Tlie apostate left his fathers' God For the Gods of a thousand shrines — And never had Truth a foe like him. Under whom an Empire's faith grew dim. — DEWS OF CASTALIB. ?? Behold him once again On the bare Assyrian sands, Encamp'd on the midnight plain, With his brave, but broken bands : — Ah, little their leader thought. When he left soft Antioch's bower, Tliat the eagle, in whose shade he fought. Should fly from a rival's power — That, ere twice he passed the Tigris wave. He should find a red untimely grave! In his soird imperial vest. With the march and the fight outworn, He had laid him down to rest. Till the first faint blush of morn ; But scarce did his eyelids close When the same unearthly Form From his troubled soul arose. Like the lightning from the storm; — But the purple garb it had worn before G 78 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Was around the spectral Shape no more. In its place, a funeral vest Seem'd to sweep the Form behind. Of the hue which robes a father's breast For a child to the dust consign'd ; Its folds conceal'd his face. And his brow to earth was bent. As he seem'd, with a slow and mournful pace, To part from the Caesar's tent; But the Vision gave no parting look. Nor a word the dreadful silence broke. From his couch the Monarch sprung; He nish'd to the open air: — Iiista'.it atliwart the night was flung A meteor's awful glare! The faces of those on watch were dyed With a bloody light, yet pale withal, — The tents of the sleepers, far and wide, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 79 Were involved in a sanguine pall, — And the Emperor deemed among the stars He had seen the frown of the Roman Mars ! There are times a dream can sink The spirits of the bold ; But the Ciesar did not shrink From the fate thus darkly told: He bade his trumpets sound. He bade his eagles fly. He moved on his own death-ground Like a king to victory. But the Partliian dart was aim'd too well — The King of the World in glory fell ! He fell in a nameless waste. But his dust could not repose In the land where he breathed his last. In the earth of his Empire's foes : — Where the limpid Cydnus stream 80 UEWS OF CASTALIE, Reflects proud Tarsus near, They have rear'd a lomb, full oft to gleara With the soldier's generous tear : They have graven the marble with Julian's name But his noblest epitaph is Fame! — THE EVE OF SALAMIS. There rolls no wave of all the blue iEgaean, But murmurs glory to the sacred sliore. Recalling when the loud triumphal paean Was heard the Salaminian waters o'erj When the delivered ocean proudly bore The victor fleet in glad disorder on; Each patriot gazing on his land once more, Free, by the fight so newly lost and won, Her race of science, fame, peace, liberty to run. Tears, big tears, filled in many a manly eye, Such tears as consecrate the warrior's bay. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 81 While the Delivering Navy gallantly Swept on, magnificent in disarray, Scarred with the dints of battle:— Glad and gay, They rode the waves by them immortal made; With ploughs of victory furrowing the bright spray To be thenceforth with Glory's harvest spread. Whose amaranthine sheaves each brow in fancy braid. It was a sight to warm the slave's heart-core. To see the Fleet of Freedom onward come; To note the proud strokes of the meanest oar That sped the victors of the Orient home ; To watch, by fits, along the sun-lit foam, Shield, helm and corslet flashing fast and far — While, ere he left the rich West's golden dome. The Day-god checked awhile his sinking car. And breathed the steeds of liglit to hail the finished war. Moments, replete with glorifying thought! Ye in yourselves condensed the life of years-, — 82 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Born of past triumph, and with future frauglit — Kindling an iris o'er departed tears, And scatterini^ in bright hope the cloudy fears. Which veiled thy thunder-peaks, Futinily! Light they disperse, as breaks and disappears The mountain-mist, when Day's first fire-shafts tice Wide o'er the joyous eartii and the tumultuous sea. No head was there by conscious fame unraised. No eye but lightened Avitli unwonted fire. As on the crowded strand tlie conquerors gazed. Musing on home and wife, friend, cliild, or sire. Perchance some Grecian loved one: — Could she tire Of that day's lofty tale ? Would not her hand Awake, ere night, her long-neglected lyre. Blending his name with the undying band. Whose swords were drawn to fence the daughters of their land All caught the glad contagion; — even tlie pale And wounded warrior raised his drooping head, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 83 When louder, as they drew more nigh, the gale His country's welcome to his faint ear sped. But there was One who, though no tear he shed. Nor spoke of rapture, seemed, while calm his tone And mien, to claim among the deathless dead — Gods of the Past — the wreath their swords had mown. Which made their dust a Spring, and yet might green his own. There was he seen, his lined and lofty brow Turned for a moment towards his rescued land; Tiien sunk, as if he watclied the waves below. Their hues, their innnber, and their changes scanned — fie saw them not, nor heard the plau.sive band Of rival chiefs, before him proudly ranged. Who felt, but owned not, that the brow, which planned That hour of rights retrieved and wrongs avenged. Bore the first palm of realms, whose fates his mind had changed. Long as grey Mia's cliffs the thunder brave. And clouds and eagles round Parnassus soar; 8J. DEWS OF CASTALIE. Long as Cephisus' and Eurotas' wave Mourn for the men, the days, the deeds of yorej Long as one cohnnn marks the glorious shore. Or one lone flower waves in green Tempe's breeze; So long thy shade shall float those waters o'er, Tliy name be voiced along thy native seas, Athenoe's pride and shame — famed, fallen Themistocles ! Napoleon of the East! like him the first Among the foremost, while in Freedom's name Thou led'st the van of battle — like him nurst Upon the lap of Glory — wherefore shame The breast that fed thee? and the cause disclaim. Which gave such lustre to thine early sword? Was it for souls like thine to sink their fame Among the satraps of a despot lord, And pile with traitorous pomp a parasite's vile board? Thy morn was bright with Freedom — wherefore spend Thine eve of life in league with Tyranny ? DEWS OF CASTALIE. 85 May not tlie river, where its wanderings end, Pure as the young waves of its fountain be. And mix unsullied with eternity? I know not; but the tongue of all time gone Proclaims, if Man be blest, if Earth be free, Not by Ambition must the deed be done Which still for some vain gaud will leave the goal unwon. Frail gains! even there Ambition's high pulse fell. Even then a cloud obscured that noble brow, As glancing back o'er the deep's star-dropped swell, His eye surveyed the grandly mournful show Of Asian ships and captives: — Greek hands row The torn imperial galleys ! — Did the sight Remind the conqueror how Fate sways below The cypress and the laurel? — Be what might The shade, it came — it passed — his eye as wont grew bright. Yet well such scene might prompt the gazer's breast, How Time and Change the rule of man disown, 86 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And bid the victor vail his stately crest At iron Destiny's imperious throne: Late on those decks the Median plumes had flown. Anticipating victory — now they bare In bonds their vanquished lords, while many a moan Of bleeding Persians, faintly heard, declare How dark to ihem the eve, in Grecian eyes so fair. There wore they throng'd, the satrap and the slave, Forgot their bondage, and extinct their pride ; Following, not sharing, o'er the glittering wave. The triumph of the fu3s so oft decried, The slander'/ ; and if excuse Were due for singing when and what we please, I think I could a decent one produce. In spite of hedge-rows bare and leafless trees : Besides all rhymers claim prescriptive use. DEWS OF CASTALIE, 111 Present and future to confound at ease ; — Of old one name involved both Bard and Prophet — 'Twas a warm cloak, I wonder who could doff it. But to my theme : Spring's own delicious essence Floats on the golden air, and breathes along The heart, which tlirills (be it a bards or peasant's) Till life is bliss, and thought is all but songj The very verdure deepens its presence. And Nature's hoary brow again looks young. While Heaven appears like a blue sea unrolled. To cleanse the "vapours of this sin-worn mould ." So soft the breeze, as if it wished to prove How March can whisper in the breath of iMay, Albeit the zepliyr find no rose to love. Nor sweets to ride from the white-thorn spray: Though no fond love-song wake the shadeless grove, Down shrills the blithe lark's firmamental lay. From the red furrow sounds the rook's far call. 112 DEWS OF CASTAHE. And tinkles clear the hedge-rill's diamond fall, I love that sound of waters, — from the lone And gentle murmur of the woodland urn. To the proud ocean's grand melodious moan. The dirge of ages never to return — From the sweet river's calm voluptuous tone. To the foam chafing in the granite churn. Where from its high stand leaps the fall below In many a column bright of liquid snow. Such things were sweet from childhood: I have pondered, Wliole sunny hours beside the amber brook, Changing to gems the sands o'er which it wandered j And, though from earliest years I loved a book, Yet better far, where one dear stream meandered, I loved to seek some lone and leafy nook. Dreaming indefinite things, until beat high My youthful heart with strange mysterious joy. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 113 If you should ask the aim of this digression — It is to prove that I am a true poet; Wherefore, all ye who read this meek confession, With or against your wills, I pray you know it: Even in the high Parnassian Court of Session My title will be owned — if I can show it j — And, if I cannot, like the Peers of James, I'll draw my sword for want of clearer claims. Poetic swords are pens. If I produce One "halting sonnet of my own pure brain,' Writ with my own wing-feather of a goose. In my own hand, — it is not writ in vain, — I am a bard; — and where can be the use Of being so, if I give no ear pain — If I, like others, force not words to chime, And make pure nonsense purl in liquid rhyme ? Not that I think my verses nonsense — no! {I always leave a hole for number one) lit DEWS OF CASTALIE. Should any wit presume to call them so, Let him take choice of Vandal, Goth or Hunf If on Parnassus one poor laurel grow, Or if there be one drop in Helicon, I am determined — but as yet no matter — I think we started from " the sound of w ater. " That sound is eloquent, wherever heard. And rather apt to make me talkative — I mean in ink, for I am seldom stirr'd A vica voce utterance to give To thoughts, as dear as starlight to tlie bird That seems for night and solitude to live: Bat nov/ adieu, digression and apology! I turn to study Natures grand Phrenology. How splendid sleeps on Cawsand lone and proud. The sunny snow! save where it lighter fell. Or where the sun has thawed the mountain shroud, Or wind or rain dissolved the silver spell: DEWS OF CASTALIE. Hi There only is the dark lull's face allowed. By glimpses of its own rich hues to tell — Just as a Spanish Donna's veil discovers Only one eye to make and madden lovers. Dear to my heart that mountain stern and wild; Beneath its shade a mother's early years Passed from her birth — and there, while yet a child. She gave her father's grave an orphan's tears. Oh breathes there one, who never was beguiled To love like me — for something that endears More tiinn the beautiful, or the sublime — The sweet localities of olden time ? More near tlie sun lig'.its up green Fossbury, Where banners waved of old and warriors fell; Dark towers its coronal of firs on liigh. While blue beyond the distant moorlands swell, And brown beneath, tinged with faint verdure, He The youug-corn slopes that fence "Our Lady's Well," 116 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Sweet Spring! once sacred to the Virgin Mary, And worthy any virsrin, nymph or fairy! And now I turn nie from the distant scene To note things less imposing, it is true — The pale smoke fading in the sky serene From the low cottage almost lost to viewj The plough-boy, changing Nature's elfin green. As 'twere by magic, to a red-brown hue. Thinking I dare say (unpoetic sinner) Of nought in heaven or earth — except his dinner. There seems up from the sunny earth to pass A tremulous film of fine transparent g-auze. Bright as the beads that crown the champagne glass. And clear as frost that on the snow-drop thaws; Floating in waves of elemental gas, A lucid veil of crystal air it draws Over the face of Earth — like the pure glory Round some grey martyr's brow in pictured story. DEWS OF CASTALIE. IT Fi'esh-dyed in green the sparkling ivy looks; The flowering gorse fires round a golden voUevj The fern waves greener in the hedge-row nooks; And wears a richer gloss the burnish'd holly; Oh Nature's — Nature's is the prime of books ! (Excepting one, whicli not to except were folly) Sunbeams the type, — the page, the teeming sod — The work, the splendid Poetry of God! On days like this 'tis joy to feel we breathe! Their sunshine does not only light the eyes. But pierces to the shadowy heart beneath. And gives to earth tiie hues of Paradise, On such days Poesy may braid a v/realh Of fancies that seem bright realities ; And Love may dream of Hope and Joy, as though Such flowers of Heaven would never fade below. Beneath yon bank of primrose — lovely link. That weds the time of storms to that of flowers— 118 DEWS OF CASTALIE. One lonely violet o'er the streamlet's brink Leans, the bine prophet of yet fiiiror lionrs, When a new world of bloom and balm shall drink The daws of Spring, and in Iier thousand bowers, The sold of Love shall wake the breath of Song — With which I close, as mine is somewhat long. A SEA-SIDE REVERIE. How light and lovely is that parting hour, "When, swathed in lambent gold, the autumnal stui Centres upon the West his pomp and power. And tells in glory that his work is done! How deep the joy in such an hour to shun All that the expanding spirit might control j And full of her, the lieart's own loveliest one. Where the wide waves their glorious vespers roll. To muse the voiceless thought, and gaze the impassioned soulj The slioreward deep like molten emerald glows j DEWS OF CASTALIE, 119 The distant burns with quivering rubies gay; As, o'er its bower of green, the crimson'd rose Shoots into air, and trembling drinks the day: Each keel that gaiiy ploughs the crashing spray Furrows its course in foam and light behind; Around the bark careering sea-fowl play, With sidelong wings to woo the breeze indin'd; While the hoarse ship-boy's song floats mellowing on the wind. Pregnant with light some sprinkled cloudlets swell. In burning islets, o'er tlie illumined West, — Long to retain the lingering sun's fareAvell, Like the last smile of Love on Grief impressed. Day sinks, but triumphs as it sinks, to rest. Like Virtue lightening through the grave to Heaven : — Yet even on Earth, what more than earthly zest To the rapt spirit's sun- ward glance is given. While thus it springs to drink the glassy gold of even! A world of light and music! — Many a breeze 120 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Pants on the wave, and trembles to the shore. Whispering its love-tales to tlie dimpling seas. And fleeting, soon as its light vows are o'er. — Oh, these are hours, when the free soul may soar. In dreamful blessedness, to climes above, — May join the beings it had loved of yore In starry spheres of cloudless light and love, Where through the bowers of bliss the immortal fountains rovef Lo, the proud *Monnt! whose form, in graceful sweep. Dyed with the last hues of the year and day. Curves, like a forest-rainbow, o'er the deep. Which heaves, all foamless, round its sheltering bay! — Pilgrims of Beauty ! ye who, fVir away. Roam where poetic deserts sadly smile! Gaze here and own— Can distant climes display A scene more rich than yonder gorgeous pile ? — Oh, ere yon leave her, search your own unrivall'd Isle! For who, with human heart, could ever roam * Mount Edgcumbe. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 121 Tlirough scenes and hours like these, nor prize them high — Hail the green land that girds his childhood's home. And cease for brigliter suns and realms to sigh? "Vain, *very vain," to search a distant sky For charms profusely sparkling o'er our own: For he, who seeks, will find beneath his eye All that can teach what Genius e'er has known. And bid the heart upclimb to Glory's Alpine throne. Low sinks the sun; and dim, o'er shore and sea, Steals a transparent shade, of deepening gloom; And louder swells the wave's wild melody. As if its tones might fill the sunlight's room: Now comes the enchanted hour, when Fancy's loom Weaves o'er the visible dark her mystic charms — Calls forms from Heaven, or wakes them from the tomb, — All that the weak or guilty soul alarms. And with elysian dreams the mourner's spirit warms. Hark I — Heard ye not, amid tlie pausing surge, ♦ Goldsmith. 122 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Some more majestic and unearthly tone? A strange deep sound, — Day's momentary dirge, — At wliose lone voice the waters hush'd their own? It seem'd the sighing and sepulchral moan Of Syren, wailing in her sparry cell. O'er powers and charms no longer fear'd or known; And wild and sad that mermaid-voice did swell. As, o'er the dusky heath, the distant funeral bell. 'Tis hush'd; and o'er the darkening waste once more I hear the waves, and sea-birds' desolate cry : The nearer waters melt into the shore. While their far verge is blended with the sky : The star which lovers worship gleams on high. And, traced in glittering fragments on the main. Binds Heaven and Ocean in a golden tie — Type of that bright and more than mortal chain, Which links young hearts, where Love and Love's sweet [witcheries reign. I3fis)0 of (C'a^talir* BOOK ly. DIDACTIC & DEVOTIONAL, li^U)0 of (ffaetalir. ALEXANDER AT PARADISE. "Twas a soft and sunny land To which the Conqueror came. Though now the place of the radiant strand Is a blank in the chart of fame. It was far in the Indian regions lone, The delicious land he found ; — Oil, when shall there be of its brightness thrown A glimpse upon earthly ground? It passed Alexander's eyes before. Like a beautiful dream : — it is now no more. He came to an unknown stream. And he traced its banks along; It roH'd with an all unearthly gleam And a murmur more rich than song: K 126 DEWS OF CASTALIE. The flowers of this world were roiiud — But in more than earthly bloom ; The bird's lay niix'd with the river's sound - But it wav'd a brighter plume. And sang with a voice more melting there, Than ever was heard but in that sweet air. It was seldom peace came o'er A breast to the war-field given; He loved to muse on the battle's roar And the steed o'er the dying driven: — Yet the lone and lovely scene Flung over his heart its calm; His eye was mild and his brow serene. As if some mysterious balm Had been sprinkled over his stormy soul, And bidden its war-waves cease to roll. A moment there he stood, No more Ambition's slave. DEWS OF CASTALIE, 127 Entranced by the sound of the warbling fiood, And the light of its shining wave. At length to his wondering train The voice of the King was heard, But so changed in its tone, that they wished again To dwell on each silver word — "We will trace this mystic stream to its birth. If it be indeed a river of Earth." Against its course they strayed. Through meads of the softest bloom, Wliile the breeze, o'er the fairy stream that played. Drew from it a strange perfume. Swans, whiter than ever were seen Their wings on the wave unfurl'd. Or sang, from their bowers in the islets green. Songs meet for a fairer world; The lotus in unknown lustre blew, \m\ the rose seemed starr'd with elysian dew. 128 DEWS OF CASTALIE. The scene, at each step they took, Still became more wondrous fair; — Oh, at that bright stream a single look Were enough to heal despair! At length, they saw where the river dived Underneath a lustrous wall Of gems, and the King at a gate arriv'd Wrought of burning diamond all : Trees within, unnamed in mortal bowers, Droop'd under the weight of their splendid flowers. The eager King struck long At the radiant gate in vain ; But at length within a voice of song Replied to his call again: — "Who has traced the sacred springs? Who knocks at the blissful gates ? " — "Alexander, King of the wide world's Kings, Too long for an entrance waits," — "Too long, proud spoiler? — return thee home, — DEWS OF CASTALIE. 129 No blood-stained feet in these pure bowers roam!" — "And who will dare refuse Wliat the victor of Earth demands?" — "He is One, thou man of blood, whose dues Must be paid by liolier hands, — In whose eye thou art a worm. In whose scale thou art but dust. Who gave thee that mind, and power, and form. Which have been too much thy trust: Retire from these walls with thy guilty swords — This Paradise is the Almighty Lord's!" — Alexander felt it vain To press for an entrance more; Yet it was with grief and pain That he left the diamond door: But scarce had his steps been turned, When open the bright gate flew. And a Form, in whose eye the Immortal burn'd. 130 DEWS OF CASTALIE, Before him a Veiled Gift threw: — "Let this," snid the Seraph, *'a token be, Thou hast stood so near the Paradise-tree." — Tlie Conqueror reached his camp. Of the strange adventure full ; But liow did the gift his warm liopes damp — 'Twas the fragment of a skull! — "Is this my prize? Was it but for this. That I stood by the Rainbow Wall — That I heard, upon the winds of bliss. The musical life-stream's fall ? — What this may mean it were vain to trj'. Unless the Giver himself were nigh." Just as the words he spoke. An Old Man enter'd there: — His strength by the weight of years was broke. And in silver flowed his hair. Yet his brow, tl.o igh pale, was high; DEWS OF CASTALIE. 131 His form, though frail, was grand; And the light of youth yet flashed iu his eye, Though the staff was in his hand: He passed through the midst of the courtly riag, And in calm sweet tones addressed the King: — "Lord King, the Immortal's Gift Has that which passes show ; — Though light enough for a babe to lift. It outweighs all the wealth below. Let the balance straight be brougiit. And the gold of thy rich stores laid Against it — all will be as nought. With that light fragment weighed." — The treasure was brought, and in heaps uproU'd, But the bone weigh'd down the Conquerors gold! "I see thee. Prince, amazed At the marvel I have shown; But know, the more the pile is rais'd 132 DEWS OF CASTALIE. The more will the Gift sink down. Woulilst tliou ask me how or why? I have come to answer all — That bone is the cell of a human eye. And it once contained a ball. Whose thirst of gain nought ever could slake, Though the Sea had been changed to a Golden Lake. "Can there nought," said the musing King, "To sink the rich scale be found?" — The Old Man stepp'd from the tent to bring A turf from the broken ground : He crumbled tlie earth on the bone — Down sunk the golden scale : — "Behold, proud monarch, the moral shown Of thine and of every tale ! When the dust of the grave shall seal it o'e)\ The insatiate eye can desire no more,'' "My guards!" Alexander cried — • DEWS OF CASTALIE. 133 Dares the dotard brave me here ?" — With an eye of death tlie Seer he eyed — • But it soon was fixed in fear ! The snows of earthly age Became locks of starry prime; The form and face of the Stranger-Sage Wore a glory unknown to time; And they, who had seen the bright gates expand, Remember'd the Guard of the Paradise-Land ! "Farewell, proud Princef" — he said. And his voice like music rung, — "Farewell, proud Prince! — thou hast ill repaid The lore of a Seraph's tongue ! Farewell for ever!" — and bright His rainbow plumes unfold. And the radiant Form is lost to sight In a cloud of purple and gold! Ere a pulse could beat was the Bright One gone. And behind was left but the Gift alone! 131 UEWS OF CASTALIE. THOUGHTS ON THE INFLUENCES of RELIGION. How purely, along tliis beautiful stream, I have seen the rays of the eve-star plaj'. As if there they had lov'd in peace to gleam. Where they found a mirror as fair as they ! How sweetly, within yon lonely grove, I have heard the hymn of the wood-bird ring Like the song of a bird from a bower above. Only lit upon earth to rest her wing! How richly now, as the sunbeams sink. The golden waters in music roll — Oh the lingerer there might almost think That the wave superb had itself a soul ! — Pure shone that star — But how purer far Eternal hope and her glories are.' Time ripples away, DEWS OF CASTALIE. 135 But ils waves, as they stray. Are gemm'd with the ligjht of elysian day. Sweet the greenwood strain — But it melts in vain On the reft one's ear in the trance of pain : The song is of heaven, To wliich it is given To bind the heart that the work! has riven. Rich the evening wave That the sunbeams pave — But no waters of Earth may the staiqed heart lavej Oil the Words bright ground. Can alone be found The rivers that warble redemption round. Go thither, and there Sin, fear, and care. Will leave the spirit, serene and fair 3 136 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And the foot, that has trod That hallowing sod, Will press for ever the flowers of God ! MORAL LINES. Floating down the current of time to tlie tomb. We hallow too much the flowers on its side, As the Indian does the frail fair bloom Of the lotus that drinks of his sacred tide. But thus should we part with the pearl of heaven. To treasure on earth its rifled shell > Or is aught so precious by this life given. That we bid to the other a glad farewell ? — Oh think, amid all thy flowers, how soon. Son of Earth, the adder may cross thy way — How quickly, amid tlie blaze of noon. The cloud of the grave may eclipse thy day ! DEWS OF CASTALIE. 137 Go, taste of the banquet of this world's joys. And drink of the nectar of earthly love ; But remember betimes to lift thine eyes, In the midst of them all, to the things above. Thus sweeter by far shall thy life bloom on. Than theirs who forget that they e'er must fall, And over the future the past's light thrown Shall sign with a rainbow its cloudy pall. And thus to thy God, without fear or crime. Thy spirit, whenever 'tis called, will flee ; And the hand that scatters the wreath of time. Will weave one of paradise-flowers for thee. WRITTEN AT SUNSET. Lo, the sun's triumphal car Bears the victor from his war ; — Yet a moment he delays 138 DEWS OF CASTALIE. O'er the last of vanquished days. Rearing, on the west's blue shore. To his God one trophy more : — Golden banners here are twining. There rich clouds, like arms, are roU'd Fiery arms that burn in shining. Shield of light and sword of gold. Pause and view yon pile sublime On the field of conquered time! Pause and look, with no vain gaze. Where goes down the last of days; Read the moral writ in fire On the day's proud funeral pyre. Life is like the vanished sun ; Swift as that its race is run. Like the clouds, which veil'd the azure Of the day for ever pass'd. Tears and trials dim the pleasure Of man's hours, until the last. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 139 Trace and loam the lore sublime On the scroll of parted time! Enter, like the lord of day. On thy brief, but lofty way. Scorn, like him, each dusky cloud, Weavins round a transient shroud: Pass, like him, serene and high. On the march that wins the sky : — So shall every cloud surrender All its gloom at evening hour. Verging, in one pomp of splendour. Round the light that spurn'd its power ! — List, oh list, the voice sublime From the grave of buried time! SORROWS AND CONSOLATIONS. What is there in life, when the visions of hope, Like ice in the sun, are faded. 140 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And the heart, unfit with the world to cope, Is oft by the world degraded ? "Child of the dust! the heartfelt tear May cleanse that sinful shrine; And over the drops of holy Pear The rainbow of Hope may shine." # What have we in life, when doom'd to mourn That Youth was ever believino-, — When over the living;, as o'er the cold urn. We grieve that Earth is deceiving? "Child of tlie earth! there's One above, Who heals the mourner's grief: Forget the sorrows of mortal love. And seek at His hand relief." The spring that waters the desert of Life Flows bitter with Death and Sorrow; DEWS OF CASTALIE, 141 And the flowers, to-day with fragrance rife, Lie blighted and low to-morrow. "Child of the skies! Oh lift thine eye To the land beyond the tomb, Where springs the fount of Eternity And the flowers of Eden bloom ! " FABLE. A Seraph, who once had his plumes unfurl'd From his Elan, among the stars to stray. As, returning, he flew by this unknown world. Had to learn where he was, ere he found his way. He saw a young bridegroom, — his wings he stay'd, Hung his dazzling wreath on a cloud of even. Then lighting he ask'd to what world he had stray'd — The happy young mortal exclaim'd 'twas a "Heaven.' L 142 DEWS OF CASTALIE. "Nay, nay," the radiant Stranger cried, "If this be a Heaven, Oh it is not ours!" — So, regaining his wreath, he flew on, and sigh'd For his own glad land of immortal flowers. Next he found, in a clime all sunny with fame, A Bard who could darken the heart too well ; The bright Visitant ask'd him his world to name — In a moment of gloom he replied, "a Hell"! "Oh no," thought the Seraph, "though newly come down, Well I know that neither of these is here." — So again he resum'd his shining crown. Too bright for the eyes of a twilight sphere. Last he lit before one, whose eyes, though dim. Were fix'd on the tale of Redemption's birth j Asking what the planet was called of him. The old man told him its name was "Earth.' DEWS OF CASTALIE. 143 "Happy they," said the Seraph, "who dream it no Heaven; "Happy they," said the Seraph, "who make it no Hell; "For 'tis written above, that to them will be given Who shall use it as Earth, with their God to dwell !" HYMN OF MARY MAGDALENE. Glorious Father! lo, before Thee Bends an erring child of clay; Humbly there she dares implore Thee, That her feet no more may stray : Hear in pity. Lord of Nature! Since our frailty Thou dost know, Lead, oh lead. Thy pardoned creature. Where redemption's fountains flow. O'er my soul and all her errors. Pitying stretch Thy golden rod. Shew Thy power without its terrors Call the suppliant to her God: 144 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Bid the tardy gleaner gather In the living field of heaven; Let the prodigal a Father Find in Thee — the past forgiven f Never more shall sin's dominion Then enthral this ransomed breast j Heavenly hope shall spread her pinion. Earthly passion sink to rest: Never more in pleasures idle Shall my spirit's lamp decay; But to Christ's eternal bridal Light my steps and cheer my way ! The fall of the LEAF. Not a flower is left for the vagrant bee. The evening winds have a dirge-like sigh. And the changed leaves hang on the mournful tree, Like false friend^ waiting the time to fly. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 145 It is come — the hour, the ominous liour When Summer must lay her last glories down, And resign to the cold usurper's power A faded robe and a gemless crown. Yet the dying year is beautiful still Though the last of its summer days has shone; And we yet may gaze, from the sunset hill, On the shining foam of its bright waves gone. Still, still, it is sadly sweet to gaze. By the soft rich light of the calm day-fall. On the brilliant relics of former days. Over which is stealing the Spoiler's pall. As the moonbeams rest on the mouldering pile. Distinctly dim and obscurely clear. The tender tints of the sunset smile On the ruins left of the blooming year. 146 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Tis a scene as the stars and mountains old, And yet as the Spring's first roses new j — 'Tis a tale from the date of Eden told. Yet still, though sad, it is dear and true. We look, as our fathers look'd of yore, Oa the fading wood and the falling leaf; We read the book they have read before. And our hearts run o'er with "the joy of grief." A light comes back from the mystic Past, Which shines on the soul with a beam of power. And thaws the ice that the world had cast O'er the fountain of thought in a colder hour. We hear a voice which whispers that we The fate of all that we mourn must feel; That scared the verdure of Hope must be. And the Autumn of Age o'er the worn heart steal ; DEWS OF CASTALIE, 147 And Oh, that — saddest and worst of all, The darkest sand in the time-glass shed — Every leaf and flower of Life's tree must fall, Their green bloom withered, their sweet breath fled! — Alas, that Pleasure should only give Her elixir pure in an icy bowl. Which melts at our touch, as we vainly strive To cool the thirst of the fevered soul ! Alas, that the things most dear below. Like the Autumn leaves should fade and fall — That the bleak death-wind should over them blow. And waft them each to the rest of all! To the rest of all ? — But where. Oh where. Is the goal of all that breathe and die ? Waves not the spirit, in purer air. The wings she soiled in this cloudy sky? 148 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Is there no bright land, where no Autimiu sears The verdure of Hope and the bloom of Love ? Where unsulHed by sin, undewed by tears. Life's roses sparkle in bowers above? "Tlieit MAY BE," responds the voice of Earth; — " There IS, " deep warble the harps of Heaven, " The grave may (jive a young angel birth And yow fading world is a world forgiven!:" The BEE-HIVE. Ye musical hounds of the fairy king, Who hunt for the golden dew; Who track for your game the green coverts of Sprinav Till the echoes that lurk in the flower-bells ring With the peal of your elfin crew ? How joyous your life, if its pleasures ye knew, Singirg ever from bloom to bloom! DEWS OF CASTALIE, IVJ Ye wander the summer-year's paradise through. The souls of the flowers are the viands for you, And the air that you breathe perfume. But unenvied your joys, while the richest you miss,— For before you no brighter Hfe hcs: — Who would part with his cares for enjoyment like this. When the tears, that embitter the pure spirit's bliss. May be pearls in the crown of the skies > MORNING. Trembling in the gold of day. Every leaf and dew-drop glows j And the flowers that slumbering lay Waken from their dim repose. Diamond-dropping, pure and fair. Breathing forth their fragrant prayer. Lo, the lark Avith early wing 150 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Climbs, in music climbs the sky; Hark, with songs the woodlands ring And the air is melody! Morning wakes, with touch of fire. This bright world's Memnouiaa lyre. All is incense, all is praise. Earth is peace, and Heaven is love. While Creation's hundred lays Float in one rich hymn above j Nature's high cathedral rings. While her choir the anthem sings: — " Light and Life and Lord of all, Thine is each resplendent world. From this green and sun-lit ball. To the stars throu2;h ether hurl'd! Hear us, Thou on wliom we call, Light and Life and Lord of all ! DEWS OF CASTALIE. 1-51 Kingdom, glory, power are thine, God of all in Earth or Heaven ! Flowers that glow, and suns that shine. Thou didst form, and Tiiou hast given ! Hear and bless us when we call. Light and Life and Lord of all!"- Such the hynan by Nature rais'd, — Oh can man be mute the while ? Can the Maker pass unprais'd. When such works around him smile ; Child of Heaven! go forth and bow. With its light upon thy brow. Pray that thus the morn of bliss Break at length on thine and thee; Pray that through a life this God vouchsafe thy light to be : Seek his grace, and own his power. In that pure and golden hour. 152 dews of castalie. The lily. O pause, and hail the Lily's God, The Guardian of the flower ; — His sunsliine warm'd its native sod, His love distill'd the gentle shower. And bade it grace its summer bower. Ere earth had borne the beauteous child, He wove its light in gloom. He screen'd it from the whirlwind wild. Of snow and silver wrought its bloom. And fill'd its chalice with perfume. Pause, then, and think— Shall He, the Power AVho smiled upon its birth. Oh shall the Guardian of the flower O'erlook, as things of meaner worth. The ways, the wants of life on earth > No ! never can our God forget DEWS OF CASTAt.IE. 153 To bless his hninaii reign ; The Star of Love can never set — And guilt, and tears, and blood are vain Its fire to quench, its light to stain. Then stranger ! turn thee to the world. And live a lihj there — Thy breast, like her's, to Heaven unfurl'd, Thy lame as pure, thy life as fair. Thy memory like her perfum'd air ! So shalt thou rest in earth like her, (Prophetic Mercy saith,) Till Spring the wntry trance shall stir. And whisper, with elysian breath. The spell that wakes the blooms of death. STANZAS. All that live must taste of sorrow — 151 DEWS OF CASTALIE. The golilen clouds of to-day, Ere tlie sun shall arise to-mori-o\v. Will be passed like a dream away; And the hopes which from time we borrow. Are wrought of a frail world's clay. Ah, vainly the heart reposes On the visions of life's young morn! Many hearts, ere its evening closes. Will be left to bleed forlorn : The tear is the dew of its roses, And the rose is the bride of the thorn. But grief is the fire of trial. The gold of the soul to prove; And over this frail life's dial Many shadows of pain must move. Ere the heart be a crystal vial For the waters of life above. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 155 Alas, for the rliains that bind us — For the souls that are earthly still! Alas that the days behind us Should the thoughts of immortals fill — That the tears of this world should blind us To the light of the paradise-rill ! The DEW-DROP. Sparkler! they say that with thy draught Titania's acorn-bowl is fiU'd — The pearl-wine, by the fairies quafiF'd, Instead of grapes from gems distill'd. What art thou like? A wandering drop Flung from some heavenly Avaterfall, Which pass'd its bounds and did not stop Until it reach'd our earthly ball. What art thou like? A precious tear 156 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Dropp'd from some pitying seraph's eye. Who wept, while hovering o'er our sphere. The sins he saw beneath the sky. The Moralist and Bard agree That mortal glory, gain, and power. Too well, alas! resemble thee. The dreamy brilliants of an hour. Yet still, while Truth in vain condemns The fond pursuit of things so frail. We chase the false and phantom gems. That, ere we call them ours, exhale. Such are the gems of this world, given A moment on its flowers to shine ; And he, who seeks for those of Heaven, Must quit the surface for the mine. Bright monitor! how rich the lore, DEWS OF CASTALIE- 157 The thoughtless heart from thee mijrht learn, Would man but pause one instant o'er The kindred drop he hastes to spuru! EARTH AND HEAVEN. There's not a star in all the heaven. But tells us goldenly of Thee; There's not a ray, at sunset given, , To wreathe with beams the locks of Even, But speaks of Him no eye can see — The Veil'd One of Eternity. We read the radiant page of Spring — 'Tis all Thine own and all of Thee ;— For nought can shine, or breathe, or sing. No breeze waft sweets upon its wing, Or stir the green and sunny tree Hadst Thou not bidden these glad things be. M 15S DEWS OF CASTALIE. No dewy braid can Summer twine. No virgin rill can Summer pour, To fill with life the sultry vine. On green meads write a greener line. Or bathe in woods the liermit flower — But tells of Thy benignant power. Oh, if in this inferior sphere. So vast Thy might, so rich Thy love, — If in this world of sin and fear. So deep, so bright Thy ways appear, — What may we hope from spheres above. Where Thine own blest Immortals rove ! There, where those -glories will be seen, Unnamed, unglimpsed, undreamed below - A heaven immortally serene. An earth of everlasting green, Iticli woods, whose glooms a lustre throw Tiiat jiales the emerald's eartldy glow; — DEWS OF CASTALIE. 159 Streams, brighter than the sunset sea ^ Whose waves are all transparent goIJ, Like liquid rainbows wandering free, Warbling elysian melody. Or in cascades of glory roll'd, Iris'd with hues, undreamed, untold;—* Flowers of undying bloom, that breathe Odours of life upon the air. Each meet for a Celestial's wreath. More bright than our pale stars beneath. Yielding no thorn, no poison there. Nor made the slumbering adder's iair! — All these, and Oh, yet more than these. The dwellers of that world of joys. Who roam beneath the starry trees. Inhale the amaranthine breeze. Drink the life-streams of paradise And weave the flowers of seraph-skies ; — IGO DEWS OF CASTALIE, How must they tower, great God! above The sous of earth, of grief, and time! Children of glory and of love. What sacred bliss must melt and move Ethereal hearts in that pure clime. Estranged from fear, and pain, and crime! Yet even on Earth, O God ! we see Enough to teach our hearts to soar — To shadow fortli futurity. To fix our fear and hope on Thee, And daily wean our spirits more From the frail dust-gods they adore. Earth is the type of Heaven, and Time The echo of Eternity ; And Man may learn to rise sublime From this dim sphere, to tliat bright clime, Which thought can dream, nor eye can see. But where Thou art, and Thine will be. ^t\si^ of OTa^talir. BOOK V. ELEGIAC. j3flU0 of (Fasitalir, To THE MEMORY OF LORD BYRON. 'Tis passed — of all proud Byron was, his grave. His bust, his name, liis lyre, alone remain ; His lip has quaff'd the dim forgetful wave And Earth and Heaven have claimed their gifts again. No more the child of feeling, fame, and song. Will weep, oer ruiued hopes, melodious tears. Or pour, the deep waves of the soul along, Tha desolate music of lamented years. Passed is the dream of all beneath the sky. And lapp'd his heart in strange oblivion now; Quenched is the soul which lit the glorious eve. And low in dust the pale imperial brow. 164 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Oh blame tlie migiity dead in vain no more f Grief, early grief, like Zaara's wind of fire, Had scathed the verdure of his heart, before It breathed immortal madness on his lyre. Ye who would brand him with ungentle scorn. Dream ye how deep the grief of genins sears ? Know ye how frail the flower, how sli:irp the thorn. Of roses blooming round the fount of tears? If not, Oh let no rude relentless tongue Break the still gloom, the mournful calm, which reigns Around the spot, where one, in years so young. So olil in sorrow, rests in unfelt cljains. He sleeps the sleep, which must at length be ours — Ye who would then be spared, Oh learn to spare ! Grudge not the grave its cold funereal flowers, And Mercy's voice for you will whisper there. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 166 Alas ! when, fading with the farewell breath, False glory dies, let vain reproach be o'er ; Let Truth and Pity guard the rights of Deatli, And plead for those who can offend no more. In vain ! Not even the golden tears of song. The solemn harpings of prophetic fame, Are felt, those bleak mysterious shades among. Where sleeps the dust which bore a deathless name. Yet not the less for this or auglit be paid Tiie sad sweet requit-ni o'er tiie early doom Of him, whose frailty should to rest be laid. Veiled by his fame in amaranthine gloom. But where, as erst, Apollo loves to shine On Greece's glory-haunted land and wave. Crown him with Bards and Heroes past, and shrine His memory there with Freedom's brightest Brave ! 16G DEWS OF CASTALIE. On reading some POETRY by a YOUNG LADY NOW NO MORE. Bafore the toucli of tlie Autumn's breatli, Tlie fairest leaves are tlie first to fall ; And before the blight of the breeze of death. Bright spirits wither the first of all. Green and fresh as the spirit may seem. No evergreen bore the graceful leaf; And the life of the lov'd is a golden dream, From wliich tlie sleeper awakes to grief. Yet Oh, let us think, while with tears we see Tlie young heart droop to an early grave, That it falls, like the leaves from Eden's tree. In "the pearly waters" of bliss to lave. Sweet spirit ! from scenes of care and pain. Thou hast flown to the beautiful bov.'ers above. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 167 Where the loving shall meet the loved again. Ami dwell with the God whose name is Love, 'Tis to lives like thine that we sadly turn. To see how the light of the heart may shine; And these are so few, that the more we mourn The blight of a lily so chaste as thine. Oh, may all who mourn thee the path pursue. Which thy young feet here in meekness trod. Till tliey pass, like thee, this vain life through, To the home of the pure — the land of God! — LINES TO THE MEMORY of a YOUNG FRIEND. Would I call thee back? No never — unless I could call back those days of happiness. When thou wert springing, all fair and free. In the morn-dew of life, like a bright young tree : — 1G8 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Like a briglit young tree in the fragrant spring, Unseared by the blight of the tempest's wing. That joyously raises its green liead high. And drinks the milk of the nursing sky ! Thou art gone — but not with thy breath is gone The stainless truth through thy life tliat shone. And to all its course a pure lustre gave, x\s the gem-sands light some fairy wave. Thou art gone — but thy virtues yet remain To brighten our hearts in the midst of pain. As the sun-beams rest on the mountain-snow. When night has shadowed the vales below. We will think of thee, and thy memory still Sliall flow through our hearts like a sacred rill. Which hallows the shore that its waves go by. And, though born from earth, reflects the sky. DEWS OP CASTALIE. 169 Thou art gone — but the thought of all thou hast been Survives the grave we have sadly seen ; And thy spirit with us outlives life's close. As the perfume breathes o'er the faded rose. Soon was thy path in this cold world trod, — Early thy spirit was called to God, — Like the mist, by the pure night-rainbow spanned. Exhaled to brighten a starrier land. May we keep our hearts as thine was kept. That the tears we weep may for us be wept ! May we pass like thee through pleasure and pain. That the lost and the living may meet again ! Thy task is done, and thy star-wreath twined — We are yet in the world thou hast left behind. To walk, by the twilight of Time's dim sky. To the burning dawn of Eternity. 170 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Farewell — but not for ever — farewell ! There's a golden world where the pure shall dwell ! — All tears will be wiped on that radiant shore. And the mourned and the mourner will part no more. On the grave of a FRIEND. There is many a harp, for the young man's doom That is tuned to the notes of woe ; But, alas ! they are mute o'er the old man's tomb, Thoadi he lived like a saint below. o There is many a tear over Beauty's grave. And warm from the heart they rise — All why kss warm are the tears that lave Tha spot where the good man lies ? Is it nothing to keep the soul still youtiff. When the frame where it dwells grows old > Or less should a beaittifal life be sung. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 171 Than the chiiniis of an earthly mould > No, old man, no — one passing lay, Though a powerless lay it be, Shall be given lo the thought of the silent clay, Which is all that is left of thee. Tiiougli thy life was pass'd in the humble sliade. Yet it brightened the shade around ; And every step, that thy meek foot made. Was made upon holy ground. Thou hast seen thy friends around thee fall, Thou hast lived through years of pain ; — And now thou hast reached the goal of all. And broken a frail world's chain. Oh rest in peace till the day, for which Tliou hast looked with a Christian's eye ! Faith, hope, and love, long have made thee rich 172 DEWS OF CASTALIE. In the gold of a purer sky. Though soon forgot be thy lowly sod. Yet thou hast not lived in vain ; For green above are tlie groves of God, Where the just shall meet again ! The POET'S MOURNER. Life for me is past and over — I have lost my minstrel lover J This fond heart's divinest chord Broke with tliine, ray laurell'd lord ! Round the spot thy dust tliat paveth, Many a tear the marble laveth ; But anfong them, whose can fall Wild as her's who weeps her all ? Yet oh, what to thee availeth. DEWS OF CASTALIE. 173 That one voice above thee waileth ? In thy bower of glories o'er. Love nor grief shall reach thee more. Silent there the voice of sadness. Powerless there the pang of madness ; — Witli this vain world thou hast done, And thy weary race is run. Of the splendid sorrows ronnd thee. And of all to Earth that bound thee, > Glory's rainbow rests alone. Shining round a cold grave stone. Glorious Sleeper I yet thy spirit Shall the wreath it sought inherit : Proud the meed that waiteth thee — Mortal immortality ! But the fame, which mocks the sleeper, N 174 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Can it cheer the Hving weeper ? — There are hearts decreed to know, Glory but embitters woe. Yet, since all beside has perished, More — oh more — shall this be cherished And thy fame shall be to me Sacred as thy memory. Fare thee well, my minstrel lover — Life for me is past aqd over ; This fond heart's divinest chord Broke with thine, my laurell'd lord : Mem ot ora^talir. BOOK VI. LEGENDARY. mm^ of cira^taUr, The children in the SNOW. Ye who in childhood e'er have wept. To hear the tale of melting power. Of that young orphan pair, who slept The sleep of death in greenwood bower, — Oh list my lay — though over them Far sweeter dirge the redbreast sung — And be my meed the diamond gem From Pity's sacred fountain sprung ! Where over Devon's vales and woods Bleak Dartmoor lifts her summits stern. And rivers pour their infant floods Through granite wastes of furze and fern. Deep in rudely cultered nook, (Hard by where Dart's red waters boil) 178 DEWS OF CASTALIE. A peasant dwelt, in heart and look Well sorted with that savage soil. Beneath his roof, two pauper boys Were bound to earn their daily bread. Poor exiles from domestic joys, Who scarce had where to lay their head. No parent's eye long, long had smiled On them to own affection's claim : One was a homeless orphan child. And one the nameless pledge of shame. (Call it not love, that dark desire Nor dream that shame can spring from love- The hallow'd and immortal fire That lights the shrine of bliss above* Love ne'er exhaled the meteor flame That gleams on buried virtue's grave ; It never sear'd the lov'd one's name — Or brook'd to curse the life it gave.) DEWS OF CASTALIE. 1^9 111 cloudless gold the morning shone On Widdecombe's dark belt of hills ; And gilt her tower the winter sun. And sparkled in her frozen rills ; The holy peal of Sabbath bells Proclaiiu'd the solemn hour of prayer. And, echoing o'er the moorland dells. Aroused the straggling hamlets there. And with the rest those children join'd The sacred work of praise and prayer. Nor dream'd how few brief days might find Their limbs beneath the cold turf there. — As home they turn'd at evening fall. The heaven, erewhile so fair, grew brown ■ And glimmering through a misty pall, The moon in sickly white shone down. That night some sheep forsook the fold. O'er the broad heath at large to roam ; ISO DEWS OF CASTALIE. And tJiey must search, the weary wold At morn, to briri^ the wanderers home : Tlieir tatter'd garb they round them flung. Their stinted meal in liaste they took. And o'er that gloomy threshold sprung. Nor cast behind one parting look. Even then some dense and drizzlins: flakes Fell sullen from the swarthy sky. And strange dead silence lull'd the brakes. Prophetic of the snow-fall nigh : Yet forth they fared — for well they knew The wretch wlio bade them search tlie wold- Tliough dun with plumes the thronged air grew. And numb'd their limbs and hearts with cold. Vain was their search — yet on they pass'd Though heavier still the storm clos'd round. And through the dizzy air shower'd fast The white fleece piled the wildering ground. ~ DEWS OF CASTALIE. 181 Too late they seek the homeward way — They blindly roam the waste forlorn ? Still side by side the pale boys stray, "With terror mute, with suffering worn. With faint slow steps, the weary hour. They toil'd through snows o'er down and dell. While round them still the wavery shower Shadowing the air, incessant fell. It cover'd all the mountain floods It ermin'd ail the dark-brown moor ; Soon choked were Spitcliweek's massive woods. And soar'd in snow the Hazel Torr. At length, less dense the darkening cloud Hangs, and the flakes relenting fall. While, burning through his western shroud. The blood-red sun illumines all. Alas, for them ho shone in vain — Too late the clouds less fiercely pour ; — 182 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Long had they sunk upon tlje phiin To sleep, and wake to grief no more! Where the lone Moor o'erlook'd a dell. And show'd the full Dart foaming by, They wept to every hope farewell, And laid them down alone to die. There did they sleep away their breath, On that bleak death-bed, waste and wild — There, stiffening on the wintry heath. The snow-fall wrapp'd each friendless child. And deep their sleep, thoiigli no fond eye Was near to soothe the parting hour — No mother's arm of love was nigh. No father watch'd his fading flower. Clos'd is their span of earthly years. Their path of mortal care is trod 5 Life was to them a vale of tears, And they have pass'd from it to God. — DEWS OF CASTALIE. 183 Oh glorious was the mournful hour. When sunset lit their grave of snows. And o'er the heaths of bleak Dartmoor, The Torrs in blood-red splendour rose ! As o'er consuming Beauty's hand Of ivory pale, the dark veins flow, — So, througli the white and glittering land, The livid river swung below. But henceforth on each poor boy's ear In vain the wintry stream may rave ; And all in vain, througli green brakes near. May murmur deep the summer wave. Nought fear they now of want or scorn. Of blows or wrongs, their only hire — No more to hail the dear May mom. Or crowd around the Christmas fire! Sad was the sight, when, from their home, Was slowly borne each coffin'd boy, 184 DEWS OF CASTALIE. To rest in distant Widdecombe, With many a pitying helper nigh : Strange was the scene as o'er the waste Of dazzling snow the dark train wound. Until each Httle corpse was placed With pious toil on holy ground. Ne'er Avith a tone so stern and dead The burial bell its warning rung. As o'er the snows, with sunset red. It then its awful burthen swung : The winds, that liowl'd o'er many a heap Of sleet-drift, drown'd the funeral prayer But Oil, thiy slept so calm and deep. The blighted flowers reposing there ! Ye, who have heard these children's fall. Should any such your board maintain. Think, think how little is their all. Nor wring their hearts for guilty gain: DEWS OF CASTALIE, 185 Unfit their tender years to stem The tide of grief and hardship too ; Then, Oh in pity smile on them — And Heaven in mercy smile on you ! The star of POMEROY. Full of the dead and of their fame. Go, wanderer, pace with mournful joy The halls, now mute to Seymour's name. The ivied halls of Pomeroy. Go, think, as tliere thy slow steps rove. Of princely Seymour's hundred sires. Of past renown and buried love. Of faded hearts and broken lyres. There, lone enthusiast, bend thine eyes On what has been, no more to be. 186 DEWS OF CASTAHE. Till on thy soul the past shall rise. Even as it now returns on me. But hope not mine a tale of war, A lay of fame the soul to move ; Such themes my verse could only mar I tell a simple tale of love. — No fleece of cloud can eye behold Along: the dim blue evening sky. While hangs the moon, in pallid gold. O'er the dark woods of Pomeroy. Al! silver sweet, the holy bell Proclaims a solemn vesper hourj And to the chapel in the dell The household glide from hall and bower. But who, — where, with wrought shafts of stone. Yon silver'd lattice gleams on high, — DEWS OF CASTALIE. 187 Paces her bower and weeps alone. Who but the Star of Pomeroy > More fair, more pale, than summer's moon. Shines the young cheek on which it falls. As there the lady thinks how soon She leaves for love her father's halls. Hark 1 from the wood a bugle peals — She starts, she leaves her chamber fair ; — With quick but faltering step, she steals O'er floor of oak and massy stair. Passed are the gates, — Oh ! stern and dread The strife 'twixt love and duty grew. As, Avith reverted eye, she bade Her bower, her home, a mute adieu ! With heavier heart than e'er before. She treads the path to that lone grove. 188 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Where first she heard, in days of yore, The whisper of forbidden love. Impatient in the trysting shade. Her lover soon the lady fonnd, And heard, within the oakwood glade,- His unseen charger paw the ground. "Oh, Herbert, better far for both. We leave, in time, this deed undone; My plighted heart, my maiden troth. All I should give, thou long hast won. "Then seek no more and love no less, — Retain my heart, renounce my hand ; — Think, think, will Heaven e'er deign to bless The bridal by our fathers bann'd?" — "And wouldst thou thus my hopes deceive? Was that sweet promise given in vain ? DEWS OF CASTALIE. 189 Can Ellen's love but lead to grieve The heart that owns her gentle reign ? "Our sires are foes; — but Oh, wilt thou On all thy Herbert's fond hopes frown, Because he springs, a lineal bough, From the proud tree of Champernown ? " Perchance our loves may reconcile Their feud, and they our flight forgive ; And should they not, we'll find the while A sunnier land to love and live." — With many a word of tender art. He hush'd the fears her breast within ; - To him that has his lady's heart. His lady's hand is light to win. Soon did they mount, and fast did flee. The lover and his trembling love ; o 190 DEWS OF CASTALIE. And blithely, for the moonshine free. The charger cleard tlie black oak grove. Swift, swift did speed the roan blood steed, — Far for to right lay Totnes town, — Till wandering bright, in links of light, They saw Dart wind through woodlands brown. In deepest shade a boat lay moor'd ; On watch beside the rowers stood ; Soon the foiid twain were safe on boaril. And fast they swept the umber'd flood. Through tall dark woods they wind and glide, — Recedes apace the forest shore. While through the gloom by fits was spied Tlie sparkle of the silver'd oar. Off Dartmouth grey, a vessel lay, At anchor on the moonlight sea : DEWS OF CASTALIE, 191 Ere long the twain her broad deck gain, To v.'eigh for distant Italy. Her chieftain bore no vulgar name. His stately lady too was there : — No taint could light on maiden's fame, Beneath their sage and houour'd care. The breeze, the billow, sped them well. Their native shore fades far behind. And nought is seen but ocean's swell. As on they sweep on ocean's wind. Nor many a dav they roam'd the wave Ere they were moor'd on foreign sands. And ring, and priest, and altar gave Their rites to link the lovers' hands. Alas, for human hope, that e'er A cloud should dim its fairy ray! 193 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Alas, for Imman love, that ne'er The loved one knows it will not stray! He, for whose sake young Ellen left Her childhood's home, her mother's arms. Too soon, of love and faith bereft, Sighs for a soft Venetian's charms. Oh grief of griefs .' That stranger's hand Another claim'd, who saw too well : — They met, Ihey fonght; — on foreign land In flower of youth, the aggressor fell ! What hope for her, the lorn one, now ? Wliat place of rest beneath the sky > Despair has paled her lovely brow. And sorrow dimm'd her shining eye. In vain afar her feet may stray. Her thoughts are all of grief and home. DEWS OF CASTAMS. 193 By the blue waves of Naples bay. Or mid the shrines of holy Rome. If to repose her limbs she gave. It was not e'er to dream of joy ; Still would she haunt her lover's grave. Or the far woods of Pomeroy. Time roll' d away. The feast w Thei; burst the stifled flame at once ; — Beyond disguise, beyond control, — And all the murderer lit his glance. And all the daemon filled his soul. DEWS OF CASTAMB. 207 As Bevil turn'd, he caught that, look — Saw through it flash the smother'd fire, Aud felt to linger were to brook A father's hate, a rival's ire. Away ! thy life is won or lost ! — With hurried step he leaves the pile — But, ere the Gothic porch he cross'd, Loud, long shrieks rung through nave and aisle. It was his Mary's voice » — he turned — Dread was tlie Fight he met behind — His father's eye with vengeance burn'd. His father's dagger near him shined ! — One moment, fix'd in pale despair. He stood — then shot the church-yard o'er ; — He gains the Green — why stops he there ? The steel is hurl'd — he loves no more .' 808 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Fix'd in his back the poniard stood. Flung with strong hand and eye too keen ; He reels — he falls — the hot life-blood Is bubbling on the crimson'd Green ! — Beneath a broad oak's massy shade, Pale, bleeding, on the turf he lay — Even where he crown'd his own loved maid The village Lady of the May ! Slie sees not this — she saw alone The lifted death-steel gleam on high — Then shriek'd and fell, with one deep groan, As death had seal'd her heart and eye. They bore her thence — but all in vain — 'Twas but to droop Avithin her bovver j And oh, it was a sight of pain To watch the blight of Taniar's Flower! DEWS OF CASTALIE. 209 Yet death was beautiful in her, As the sweet light of evening day; And though to hope was but to err. Her blue eye seem'd to mock decay. But wherefore — whevofore tell the rest ? 'Tis told in one sad word — she died, — And 'twas her last and lone request, To sleep in death by Bevil's side. Alas, forgot are now their graves — Yet unforgot the father's blow; And still, as then, the green oak waves, Wlsere lay the son so early low. Still to the oak of Copleston The neighbouring peasant points his boy. Tells him the deed that there was done. And warns from passions that destroy. — JJIO DEWS OP CASTALIE. Tlie tale is done; and some tliere are. Whose hearts will feel its simple power. And love the harp, howe'er it jar. That told the fate of Tamar's Flower. The maid of ORKNEY. "My lost, lost love!" — the frantic cry Died in the thunders of the wave : The rock was near — the storm was high — The gallant ship has found her grave ! One flash lit up the reeling bark O'er the black breakers hurrying on ; A moment's pause, and all was dark, — Another flash — the bark is gone ! "Look on yon cliflf — the awful light Shows one who kneels all lonely there ; - DEWS OF CASTALIE. 211 How looks she, stranger, on that sight ? " — "Oh beautiful amid despair!" — "She cannot feel tlie piercing blast. She cannot fear the maddening surge: That moment was her lover's last. That wild wind howls his passing dirge." — "But who the reft one kneeling there. At this bleak midnight's stormy hour?" — " The fairest of our island fair. Dark Orkney's pride and Ocean's flower." — ]VIorn — evening — came ; — the sunset smiled ; The calm sea sought in gold the shore. As though it ne'er had man beguil'd. Or never would beguile him more. For his lost child, bower, haunt and home. The stern sire search'd that mournful day, 212 DEWS OF CASTALIE. While by the lone deep's golden foam The Flower of Ocean fading lay. O there her young and fond heart broke. Beside her native islet's wave. And, dying there, her latest look "Was on her lover's bright-blue grave. Sweet be her rest within the tomb. And dear her memory in the bower. And pure the tear that mourns the doom Of Orkney's pride and Ocean's flower. mc\ii^ of Ca0talir» BOOK VII. ANOMALOUS. 13rU3$ of Cira^taUr* A GRECIAN DREAM. Scene, The Sea-shore at the mouth of a beautiful stream. Time, Sunset. NEREID. Farther than wont from thy fountain home. Beautiful Stranger! thy steps have come; — What has brought thee, sunny-haired Sister, say, So far from thy silver bower to-day ? NAIAD, I have traced from my urn the shining stream. For tlie fairest flowers in its waves that gleam. NEREID. Far up thy banks there is many a flower — Were they all too few to enwreathe thy bower? Thy coronal still is fresh and fair — 216 DEWS OP CASTALIE. Woulilst thou place one brigliter, sweet Stranger, tliere ?^ NAIAD. Oh no, it is not for these locks of mine, I have come so far my braid to twine ; But I cull these flowers ray banks along-, To crown the harp of a Child of Song: Long, long my waters unheard had roll'd — ■ That harp has given them sands of gold ? NEREID. In the faint sweet light of the vesper star, I have heard thy voice, fair Sister, afor. And grieved, as T listened along the shore, I could catch of the distant song no more : — Oh since we are met, wilt thou pour again A single lay of the liquid strain ? NAIAD, My dwelling is the diamond wave DEWS OP CASTALIE.- 217 That sparkles in the golden day ; The fairest things my waters lave Can neer be half so fair as tliey : — I rest, but sleep not, when the moon Is gleaming on my shadowy tide 5 Mine is the wood's green gloom at noou. And mine each flower of summer's imdc. The mirror of the stars is mine ; — To me from earliest time 'twas given To catch, in all their dyes divine, The brightest smiles of earth and Iieaveii. All things have changed, my fountains ronud, But still my pure stream winds along, As in the dawn of time it wound. With wave all light, and voice all song ! , . . . NEREID. Sister, I grieve, ere thy strain be o'er. To part from this loved and lonely shore; 218 DEWS OF CASTALIB. But I heard from the deep — and hark! — again The echo swings over the gold-blue main! — Too well I know 'tis the Triton's shell — Sunny-haired Sister, farewell — farewell! — On a PORTRAIT of LORD BYRON. Aye, gaze upon that brow. That brow which towers an intellectual Alp, Diadem'd with a pale eternity Of Thouglit's untrodden snow — round wliicli high dreams. Like Alpine eagles, seem to float, amid Inviolate solitude and sunshine! — See The troubled glory of that eye, where keeps The soul her cavern'd oracle, and fdls The electric gloom with inspiration ! Gaze On the rich lip of passion and of power. Whose every curl was moulded by strong thought, Like waters by the tempest ! — Shrine superb. Where lato a more than kingly spirit found DEWS OF CASTALIE. 919 A worthy dwelling ! Men unborn will wish To have drawn the breath of time with him, as if It were to inhale his immortality. THOUGHTS IN THE AMPHITHEATRE at MOUNT EDGCUMBE. And well, O Milton! is thine honour'd bust Plac'd these deep shades and twilight glooms among; — For, though far off repose the poet's dns', Here lingers still the spirit of his song : And oft, at eve, these high arcades along. To Fancy's dreaming eye his form will glide, Wliile even the depth of stillness finds a tongue. And sounds unearthly float upon tlic tide Or in faint murmurs die along t'le dark hill-side. Yet why. Oh why, in such a scene is mute The lyre which scorns the touch of mortal hand — The lyre of heaven — the wandering Ariel's lute — 230 DEWS OF CASTALIE. Whicli fairy fingers all alone have spanned, And the pure zephyr's wooing breath hath fixnned ? 'Twere sweet to catch its tones, when still and dim, The beauty-breatliing hues of Eve expand — When Day's last roses fade on Ocean's brim. And Nature veils her brow, and chants her vesper hymn. Oh how those tones would harmonize with all The sights and sounds of beauty here combined! How sweetly mingle with the water's fall. And swell in music on the pausing wind ! On summer's eve, how liquidly refined 'Twould steal along the tide in that soft hour. When first on the blue wave the moon hath shined. And, like a bride, from forth her shadowy bower. Smiles on the heaving deep that fondly owns her power! POETRY. Deep and dear is the power of the Muse's art, DEWS aP CASTALIE. 2^1 To mould the mind with a finer grace — To make bright thoughts float in the pure, pure lieart; As the gpld fish gleams through the crystal vase ! There is known to the spirit a music of thought, . Which the lightning of Song can alone inspire. Like the lute whose chords have been only taught To ring when they feel the electric fire .' SONNET I. To THE RUINS OF IONIA. Ionia — sad Ionia ? is this wreck All that remains to tell thy splendid tale? Was it for this thy myriads toil'd to deck Nature with Art^ until the priest grew pale In his own fane — and deem'd the incensed gale Waved the rich tresses of his Phidian God ? Are glories born, like thine, but to exhale, 222 DEWS OF CASTALIE. As (lews forgotten from the mountain sod? — Yes — fallen Ionia? as thy temples nod, Earthquaked by Time — while at night's pensive noon. The jackal howls through theatres untrod. Mute as the soft light of their Asian moon, — So fade the fair, the proud, the famed, the strong — All save eternal Truth and sacred Song! — SONNET II. To GREECE. Sweet Hellas' earth — my fancy's fairy-land — My youthful spirit's glorious paradise ! Oh who may tell how dear the filial band. Which links to thee one, born in distant skies, But with a soul that shares thy destinies. And feels thy glory as it felt thy shame ? That I have lived to see thy star arise — Thy banner spread for freedom and for fame — Land of my love ! will be a thought to claim DEWS OF CASTALIE. S23 A long proud record in my memory. Where the prophetic echoes of thy name Speak all of glad and golden days to be : — I hear the omen, as thy warriors heard. Before the fight, the wings of Victory's bird! SONNET III. To SPAIN. Oh suffering Spain! survey thine Argo's world — See Bolivar's flag where Pizarro's flew! See the proud ensigns of the free unfurl'd From Niagara's flood to far Peru ! — What man has done, again may not man do ? Flows not thy blood from them whose swords of yore Cleft a red path Rome's own firm legions througli. And spurned to Calpe's wave the flying Moor? Wake, land of Chivalry ! let Ebro pour Henceforth his murmurs on the freeman's ear. And let each grey Sierra statelier soar 224 DEWS OF CASTALIE. To see "the Mountain Nymph" again draw near! — Riego's spirit bids thee wake again — Oh speaks thy lost Leonidas in vain ? SONNET IV. The WOOD-STORM. When to the winds the firm oak's stately form Sways, while each branch is as an organ-key, Dash'd to mad music by the frantic storm. And swells the full tremendous melody, I love amid the sounding woods to be. And with a stern and solemn rapture hear The straining forest's thunder — 'tis to me An hour of awful bliss and glorious fear ! — But wilder, stranger still, swells on the ear That shrill sound heard amid the tempest's pause. As 'twere a Phantom's whisper, deep yet clear. While its dread breath anew the spent blast draws. Sounds not that Voice, which makes the listener pale. DEWS or CASTAIMB. 625 Like some lone Forest-Spirit's desolate wail ? SONNET V. The approach of AUTUMN. Autumn draws nigh — I hear its mournful breath Sigh on the wind and murninr tiirough the wood, Wafting another summer's doom of death. With deep sad music to the grave and good : — Such is tlie lot of all by man pursued, His spring but blossoms for an early fall. And, where aught bright or beautiful hath stood. Fate and forgetfulness will spread their pall. Ah ! who can think, Such is the doom of all. Nor mourn the works of change, the wrecks of time,— Even though he look beyond this earthly ball To greener splseres of everlasting prime. Where all that fades on earth shall reappear. And the rose bloom unwatered by the tear ? — gS6 D«WS OF CASTALIE. SONNET VI. To THE READER. Reader, farewell ! If from these leaves of mine Thy heart shall glean one solitary flower — If, in its sweep, one full and flowing line Waft but a water-lily for its dower — If, as thou saunterest on, my lyric power IMay shed one sunbeam on thy morning way. Or light one glow-worm for thine evening bower,— I have not pour'd for nought the lonely lay. Yet, should no meed like this my verse repay, There's pleasure still in the sweet work of song : — No less the woodlark hails the sinking day, Though none may list his sunset haunts among. — Once more, farewell !-— Oh, not unwelcome be The balm tliat trickles from a stranger-tree! — Coonilie-Lancej Wood, September 12, 182S. FINIS. ERRATA. Pa»e 21, sixth Line from the bottom, a comma only at the end of the line. Page 151, fourth Line from the bottom, insert like before this. 1Srotr0. NOTES. TfjTRODLCTORY SoSNiiT, To Glory, Lise C, Ovid. Met. Lib 13. Pi/ge. Line, 4, 11, AUuilia^'^ pnrticularij to tlie Massacre at Scio. b, 4, Pindar Olviiip. '2. l.iU--l. G, 11), Xaiithus his name with those of heaven)y birth. But cM'd Scamander b> the sons of earth.-Pops.-', Iliad. G, U, Mount Ida. 10, S, Borrowed uaintentionallv fro.na Lord Bvrou's Mazeppa. 16, I'Jr The Fortunate Islaudi. 21, 2, Vide Mrs. Barbauld's beautiful alleg-ory, oa ths birth of Pity. 43, 5, The royal family of Peru v/ere dcaomiaated the Children of tite Sun, 43, 1, Atahualpa was strangli^d at the stake. 4», 4, Two titular Incas succeeded him, but they never reigned. 44, 13, Like all other nations the Peruvians had some idea of a future state. 45, 1, Manco Capac, the Romulus of Peru, aud the Father of its Kinjs. 57, 7, The Royal standard of Persia. It was seen upon a neighbouring eminence after the battle. 5S, 1, The temple of " Diana of the Ephesians." 39, 17, So called by Xenopbon and Arriaa, in addition to its local name of Theche. 60, 3, The p/ieasnnt derives its name f:om the Cokhian P/jaii*. The Argo- nauts are said to have introduced it iu(o Furope. 61 2, It is no inconsistency to introduce a Grecian female at such a time and place. Several are known to have accompanied the Ten Thousand through all their difficulties aud dangers. C?, 7, Chios, said to he the birth-place of Homer. 63 IJ, The Phasis, which the Greek army had left behind them, was not the Colchian Phasis, immortalized by the Ar-;onautic expelitiou, but a distinct river bearing the same name. CI, 13, Tacitus, Ana. Lib, 3. c. 1 and 2. 65, 8, Brundisiura. 70, 14, Tacitus, Ann. Lib. 2, c. 41. 72, 10, The facts upon which this Poem is founded, are all derived from Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Rouiaa Empire. 84, 8, The short but noble letter of Napoleon to the British Regent--" I come, like Themistocles, Ac.""Suggested one point of resemblance between Pastt Line. these celebrated men. Perhaps their characters, as well as their fortunes, may affdrd materials for a more extended parallel. Ini, 6, Josephus sajs that hoth Tadmor and Palmyra had the same signification, viz, theptece of palms. 101, 7, Yet the local identity of the scriptural Tadmor and the profane Palmyra rests upon the most va^iie and inconclusive grounds. 110, 8, Attlie time this was written, such was the secnwrfaj^/title of theOrieutal Herald, in which it was ori^'inally published. 110, 10, Ver erat seternum. —Ovid. Met. 111, 9, The Roman word ratci'. Ill, U, Wilton— Comus. 113, 7, Alluding to a well-known fact in Scottish history. One of the last Stuarts sending to his barous for the title-deeds of their laiids, they shewed their sivords. 113, 10, Shrikspeare. 114, 15, A hill ou tlie confines of the f:reat Devonshire Moor. 115, 13, A hill in the vicinity of Creditoa, near which are the remains of an ancient encampment. 125, 1, Founded upon a story extracted in No. fiO of the Quarterly Review, traTislated by Mr, Ilurwitz from the llahbinicai writings, and pub- lished in his " ilehrew Tale-." ICG, 1, Miss Emma Fisher, of Dorchester, who died April 7, 1S18, at the ajre of sixteen. 167, H, "On Wednesday the 15th of August, 1827, ai;ed '29, John second son of Mr. Isaac Davy, of Kordton, near Crediton. ThioH;,-hout a long and trying illness he was a fine example of manly fortitude, unostentatious piety, and ciaistian resignation; and with a well-stored and well- regulated mind, he possessed a goodness of he.ut which endeared him to all who knew him."— To this brief record of affection I have nothing to add, except that, in this case, a father's partiality has not dictated a father's praise. All that is told is truth ; but; nifre would have been true. -'7 ? '' 177, 4, The Babes in the M'ood. Qy * 183, 4, The provincial name for the Dartmoor 1|wls. i 195, 1, The materials upon which this metriMltait is founded are contained in the following extract fr;;m Prince's Worthies of Devon :— " Esi]uire Copleston, of VVarley, (I can't recover his Hiristian name, although I suppose it was John) in the days of Queen Elizabeth, had a young man to his Godson, that had been abroad for his education; who, at his t , .^ ^OFCALIF0ft<^ ^OFCAlIf 4? '^TiiaoNvsoi^ %a3AiNfl-3WV^ "^(^Aavagii-^ ^omn ^lllBRARYO^ ^^tllBRARYOc. ' 11 1 J T I I Y J J w 'UU3IIV, ^OFCAIIFO%. '%OJI1V3JO>' ^OFCAlIFOff^ '?' > v/sa3AiNn-3Wv ^VWSANCflfj^. c? ^ %a3AlNll-3\^^ ^N^tllBRARYQc 5;^H!BRAI ^OJIWJJO't^ ^OFCAllFOi?^ ^<9Ayvagn-^^ ^^mm ^OFCALIF rr.