THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS 
 
 OF 
 PAGANISM; 
 
 OR. 
 
 SONGS 
 
 OF 
 
 LIFE AND 
 LOVE,
 
 This Work and all the 
 
 publications of tbe Rorburgbe press 
 
 are supplied to the Trade by 
 
 Messrs. 
 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & Co., 
 Limited, 
 
 and may be obtained through any Bookseller.
 
 POEMS OF PAGANISM; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SONGS OF LIFE AND LOVE. 
 
 " PAGANUS " 
 
 (L. CRANMER-BYNG.) 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 THE ROXBURGHE PRESS, 
 
 3, Victoria Street, 
 
 Westminster, 
 
 and 
 32, Charing Cross, S.W. 
 
 MDCCCXCV.
 
 Pf? 
 
 D5" 
 
 "F 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 ffrienb 
 GEORGE BARLOW. 
 
 PHOEBUS! wherever thou lightest, joy fol- 
 
 lows; 
 
 Heart of man wakens to music, and 
 sings : 
 
 " Glad are the rays that are Phoebus Apollo's, 
 Golden the hours of delight that he 
 brings." 
 
 Strong-hearted, lyre-loving God of the morn- 
 
 ing, 
 Darkness and falsehood shall shudder and 
 
 flee, 
 Gloom-mantled crime at thy presence take 
 
 warning, 
 
 Earth wake from sleep at the vision of 
 thee.
 
 6 DEDICATION. 
 
 God of the truth that shines clear in the day- 
 time, 
 Light of the soul that hath wandered in 
 
 night, 
 
 Phoebus, oh, hearken, thou God of love's May- 
 time, 
 Lord of love's seasonless summer delight ! 
 
 Who is it comes with the sunlight above 
 
 him, 
 
 Holding the sun-smitten lyre in his hand, 
 Making the hearts of us listen and love 
 
 him, 
 
 Sending a thrill through the night-weary 
 land? 
 
 Who is it lightens the load of our yearning, 
 Shows us the sun of our darkened desire ? 
 
 Music so passionate, beautiful, burning, 
 
 Surely no mortal could wake from the 
 lyre! 
 
 " This is my servant. The lyre of my 
 
 giving 
 
 Trembles to tell the sad spirits that 
 sleep
 
 DEDICATION. 7 
 
 Night-dreams are over now Phoebus is 
 
 living, 
 
 See ! the doomed darkness dies over the 
 deep." 
 
 God-gifted singer of truth and of passion 
 Truth that is dawning, and love that is 
 
 free 
 
 Fain were my poor little numbers to fashion 
 Song that should hallow both Phoebus and 
 thee. 
 
 Lacking the lyre, with the pipe that was 
 
 hidden 
 
 Deep in the soil by some shepherd of yore, 
 Made I the songs that I send thee unbidden. 
 Let them not trouble thee. Where the 
 streets roar ; 
 
 Where the loud market with thousands is 
 
 thronging ; 
 Where the gold Moloch rears proudly his 
 
 head ; 
 
 These will be silent, nor fill thee with longing 
 For the green meads, and the days that 
 are dead.
 
 8 DEDICATION. 
 
 Only for song-time and summer these numbers, 
 Where trees are many and mortals are 
 
 few ; 
 
 Where in the forest Pan wakens from slumbers. 
 Take them. I leave them to Nature and 
 you.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DEDICATION 5 
 
 A PATRIOT POET II 
 
 A PRAYER FOR PEACE 13 
 
 ALL THAT I HAVE . l6 
 
 AU REVOIR NOT ADIEU! 1 8 
 
 CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN 2O 
 
 CLOUD, WIND, AND RAIN 22 
 
 CONCERNING TRUTH AND ART . . . .24 
 
 CUPID'S SLEEP 27 
 
 DESPAIR 28 
 
 GOOD-BYE, LOVE! 3 
 
 HAUNTED 3 2 
 
 HEART OF STONE 34 
 
 HESITATION 35 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND 37 
 
 IGNORANT ROSES 39 
 
 KOSSUTH, LOUIS 4 
 
 LIFE 41 
 
 LIFT THE LYRE 43 
 
 LINUS TO LYTERSES 44 
 
 LINKED TO THE PAST 45 
 
 LOST IDEALS 47 
 
 LOVE AND THE LARK 49 
 
 LOVE BEYOND LAW 5 r 
 
 LOVE, DEATH, AND SONG, IN THRACE . . -54 
 
 LOVE LAUGHS AT CASTE 5& 
 
 LOVE, MORN, AND MUSIC 58 
 
 LOVE'S SILENT SHRINE 59 
 
 9
 
 io CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 NATURE'S SADNESS [AFTER OLD ENGLISH] . . 62 
 
 PASSION'S PASTORAL 64 
 
 SLEEP, DEAR ! 66 
 
 SONG 68 
 
 SONNET 69 
 
 THEE ONLY 70 
 
 THE GUARDIAN OF THE FOUNT . . . .72 
 
 THE SEER 74 
 
 TO AN OLD-WORLD LOVE 77 
 
 TO L. G. A 80 
 
 TO NATURE 82 
 
 WHERE ARE YOU NOW? 84 
 
 THE BRIDE OF LIFE 86 
 
 CAROL NO MORE 88 
 
 BEYOND WORDS QO 
 
 OF HIS MUSE 91 
 
 THE LIGHT OF DEATH Q2 
 
 WHAT REMAINS 93 
 
 A FALLEN DEITY 94 
 
 ON READING "FROM DAWN TO SUNSET" . . 95 
 
 THE POET'S LEGACY 96 
 
 SUDDEN LIGHT 97 
 
 TO EURYDICE 99 
 
 THE MAIDEN'S VIGIL 100 
 
 FAREWELL! 101 
 
 WORLD WEARY 1O2 
 
 NO HEART BUT THINE ...... 103 
 
 SONG WITHOUT ECHO [FROM THE POLISH OF 
 
 MARIE KONOPNICKA] 104 
 
 SHOULD THEY ASK Io6 
 
 SLEEPER AND SENTINEL 1 07 
 
 LOVE'S WITNESS I08 
 
 VITA BREVIS 110 
 
 I/ENVOI. TO GEORGE BARLOW .III
 
 A PATRIOT POET 
 
 O THE heart of England yearns 
 For a melody that burns, 
 For a young god from Olympus all the 
 
 morning's flush desire 
 In the chords that throb and quiver 
 As the sunlight on the river 
 From the hand that stirs to music all the 
 harp's imprisoned fire. 
 
 To a nation overwrought 
 In the wilderness of thought 
 O'er your pessimistic babble, little middlemen 
 
 of rhyme, 
 
 Down the years that damn and dull us 
 Pants the passion of Catullus, 
 Calls the seraph-soul of Shelley Byron's 
 rebel-heart sublime.
 
 12 A PATRIOT POET. 
 
 You may persecute the brave, 
 Ply your scourge upon the slave, 
 But the blood of all the martyrs only swells 
 
 the tide of truth, 
 As it rolls serenely forward 
 To the billows beating shoreward, 
 And the sea and river mingle in the fiery lips 
 of youth. 
 
 God has written on your walls, 
 And the voice of freedom falls 
 On the ears of weary Titans as they dream 
 
 upon the soil. 
 
 And the world shall pause in wonder 
 As they rend their bonds asunder, 
 As the lyre's triumphant thunder sounds the 
 knell of sunless toil.
 
 A PRAYER FOR PEACE 
 
 To the God of hapless beauty, to the Lord of 
 
 saddest song, 
 To the Guardian of that garden where all 
 
 broken hearts belong, 
 Of the poppy-sprinkled garden, where for ever 
 
 sets the sun, 
 Where lost lovers meet and mingle all their 
 
 spirit-life in one, 
 Where red passion strays a phantom of the 
 
 flame that flared and sped, 
 Where the dreamer lies a-dreaming of the 
 
 rapture that is dead, 
 Hear me, Lord, and dragon-watch o'er the 
 
 souls that peaceful dream, 
 With the walls of brass around them and the 
 
 ever-circling stream ; 
 For my heart is torn and bleeding, and the 
 
 soul of me is fain 
 For a cycle of the slumber that should ease 
 
 me of my pain.
 
 14 A PRAYER FOR PEACE. 
 
 I have battled, I was beaten, and my captive 
 
 heart lies bound 
 By the sorrows that beset me, by the griefs 
 
 that gathered round. 
 I have sought the old-world shadows for their 
 
 silence that would keep, 
 For their sepulchres to save me from the 
 
 tossing, moaning deep : 
 But a voice cried : " On for ever ! Thou shalt 
 
 never know the shore, 
 Nor thy battered galley shelter from the 
 
 storms that are in store." 
 So I steered in desperation for the far-off 
 
 western waves, 
 For the garden of my vision, where love's 
 
 phantoms find their graves, 
 And the chill winds of religion howled around 
 
 my lonely soul, 
 And the mocking voice cried : "Onward ! 
 
 Thou shalt never find the goal." 
 But I came to thee, great Guardian of the 
 
 broken hearts that lay 
 Where the noontide sun of passion fades to 
 
 crimson streams away, 
 Where two hearts are bound together in the 
 
 poppy-purpled sleep,
 
 A PRAYER FOR PEACE. 15 
 
 And their sepulchres have saved them from 
 
 the tossing, moaning deep. 
 O thou guardian of the garden where lost 
 
 lovers lie and dream, 
 With the walls of brass around them and the 
 
 ever-circling stream, 
 Shall I never, never enter ? Shall my spirit 
 
 never rest 
 In the garden that lies dreaming in the 
 
 splendour of the West ?
 
 ALL THAT I HAVE. 
 
 I CANNOT veil the past 
 
 Whose gloomy shadows cast 
 Their awful length of blackness on your life ; 
 
 But take this hand to guide 
 
 And steer you down the tide, 
 This loving breast to shield you through the 
 strife. 
 
 All that I have is yours 
 
 A passion that endures, 
 A heart to follow music unto truth, 
 
 A soul that cannot quail 
 
 From very shame to fail, 
 And all the deep devotedness of youth. 
 
 Faith is not mine to give : 
 
 Enough for me I live 
 To aid some fellow-being to the sun, 
 
 Whose mild and mellow rays 
 
 Shall light those happy days 
 When all our hopeless seeking shall be done. 
 
 16
 
 ALL THAT I HAVE. 17 
 
 I may not faultless be, 
 
 Sin stains my purity, 
 And sorrow in my heart holds bitter feast ; 
 
 But love has power to save 
 
 From dark dishonour's grave 
 A soul that never herded with the beast. 
 
 Ah ! give me of that love, 
 
 That I may worthy prove, 
 And, hand in hand, redemption we will seek, 
 
 Through life's vast loneliness, 
 
 Through trouble and distress, 
 Till time has kissed the teardrops from your 
 cheek.
 
 AU REVOIR NOT ADIEU! 
 
 Au REVOIR not Adieu ! For the thought 
 
 of our parting 
 Strikes chill on the heart that beats only 
 
 for you ; 
 
 Ere soul forsakes soul, into solitude starting, 
 By all that was love, Au Revoir not 
 Adieu ! 
 
 Au Revoir not Adieu. As I clasp you and 
 
 kiss you 
 More true than a mistress, more tender 
 
 than wife 
 My heart cannot learn its sad lesson to miss 
 
 you, 
 
 To tear out the tendrils of love from my 
 life. 
 
 18
 
 AU REVOIR NOT ADIEU! 19 
 
 Au Revoir not Adieu ! Like a knell that is 
 
 tolling, 
 
 The bell for departure rings agony dumb ; 
 And lips madly meet for some sweetness 
 
 consoling, 
 
 Some wish to conceal that the parting has 
 come. 
 
 Little girl, with your brown eyes of innocent 
 
 wonder, 
 Little rosebud so ruthlessly brought into 
 
 bloom, 
 
 The sword of adversity sweeps us asunder ; 
 But love, like a beacon, shall glow through 
 the gloom. ' 
 
 Au Revoir not Adieu ! For a time we must 
 
 sever ; 
 But the grass has its green, and the sea has 
 
 its blue, 
 And you have my heart keep it, darling, for 
 
 ever : 
 
 Fate parts, love abides. Au Revoir not 
 Adieu !
 
 CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN. 
 
 Christian, 
 
 TENDER and true she waits for you 
 In the beautiful burnished skies ; 
 
 Your darling waits at the jewelled gates 
 Of the garden of Paradise. 
 
 Pagan. 
 
 Alas ! my friend, and is this the end 
 Of a love that lived like ours : 
 
 To view one's own on a golden throne, 
 With a diadem of flowers ; 
 
 To hear her play on a harp alway ; 
 
 See nightgown frippery fold 
 About her waist ? Has Heaven no taste 
 
 For a woman of lovely mould ?
 
 CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN. 21 
 
 And the songs I taught will they count for 
 aught, 
 
 Those wonderful heathen lays ? 
 No, no ! She'll hymn for an angel's whim, 
 
 Through the tedious golden days. 
 
 Each fond embrace is a dire disgrace, 
 
 With the eye of God above, 
 And the saints would blush, as His voice said : 
 " Hush ! 
 
 Ye must put away your love." 
 
 Calm, cold, and pure, ye may endure ; 
 
 Yet passion shall pine with drouth 
 For love's fair form, and the kisses warm 
 
 Of her beautiful burning mouth. 
 
 No Heaven for me, but the dancing sea, 
 
 And the far-off Lydian shore ; 
 Where, hand in hand, in her own bright land, 
 
 We'll linger and love once more. 
 
 And she shall sing to the lute I bring, 
 
 And sorrow and care and pain 
 Shall pass away with the dying day, 
 
 And night shall return again.
 
 22 CHRISTIAN AND PAGAN. 
 
 Then with the night comes lost delight : 
 Love lurks in each dreamy dale, 
 
 Whose eyes shall be the starry sea, 
 And whose voice the nightingale.
 
 CLOUD, WIND, AND RAIN. 
 
 A MIST came out of the sea, 
 And a cloud fell over my heart : 
 But the mist and the cloud were part 
 Of a shadow that haunted me. 
 
 A moan went over the wave, 
 And cold on my spirit fell 
 The doom of a tolling bell, 
 And the thud of a closing grave. 
 
 Then rain swept under the skies, 
 And tears coursed over my cheek, 
 For the love that I vainly seek, 
 And the light of her dear lost eyes. 
 
 But night fled into the west, 
 And hope dawned out of my fears. 
 Love smiled upon sunlit tears, 
 And sorrow was fain to rest.
 
 CONCERNING TRUTH AND ART. 
 
 TO ALL ORTHODOX. 
 
 THOUGH perchance no mortal numbers have 
 
 the power to wake from slumbers 
 All the silent spirits sleeping in the dark- 
 ness and the mist, 
 Still I'll sing the veiled stars gleaming, far 
 
 beyond your hopeless dreaming, 
 Who have followed marsh-lights streaming 
 to the doom ye daren't resist. 
 
 If I cannot climb the mountains, let me seek 
 
 secluded fountains, 
 Where the naiads lurk and listen to the 
 
 waters as they fall, 
 Weaving webs of fancy round me, where the 
 
 old-world magic found me, 
 Where love's flowery fetters bound me, too 
 ethereal to pall. 
 24
 
 CONCERNING TRUTH AND ART. 25 
 
 Though ye drive me to perdition in the zeal 
 
 of superstition, 
 Tis your Master that ye martyr in each 
 
 sacerdotal soul. 
 From your Golgothas descending, follow not 
 
 with spite unending 
 
 Hearts their sunward journey wending, 
 thoughts no poet can control. 
 
 'Tis some awful power that plays us on this 
 
 mournful stage ; arrays us, 
 Some in rags and some in purple, for the 
 
 parts we fill untried, 
 To a scene for ever shifting, to a curtain ever 
 
 lifting, 
 
 On our flotsam spirits drifting into darkness 
 deified. 
 
 God made singer to discover, with the keen 
 
 eye of a lover, 
 All the cherished hidden secrets only 
 
 Nature's darlings know; 
 What bright rapture burns and blushes by 
 
 the gurgling tide that gushes 
 Down deep inlets among rushes when the 
 springtime blossoms blow.
 
 26 CONCERNING TRUTH AND ART. 
 
 Art is sweet, but never, maiden, where the 
 
 dells with dreams are laden ; 
 Darkness loves red roses better than the 
 
 day loves roses white ; 
 All the sense of sweetly sinning, life's old 
 
 drama new beginning, 
 Love triumphant, passion winning, wait the 
 dark wings of the night. 
 
 Drooping heart, let all disown thee ; let each 
 
 passing bigot stone thee ; 
 Let their demon malice dog thee through 
 
 the ever-circling shade. 
 Music's star shines fair above thee ; loyal souls 
 
 shall learn to love thee ; 
 Persecution only prove thee fearless soldier 
 undismayed. 
 
 Yes ! if one sad soul might hear me, if my 
 
 music might endear me 
 To some lonely hero, fighting, grandly 
 
 conscious of his doom ! 
 He shall clasp my hand for ever, though vast 
 
 leagues of ocean sever, 
 Though these mortal eyes may never see 
 the sunrise gild the gloom.
 
 CUPID'S SLEEP. 
 
 SMOTHERED in roses, drenched in dew, 
 Sleep-flushed eyelids heavily pressed, 
 Half revealed, half hidden from view, 
 Cupid lies on the earth's green breast, 
 With a gush of notes from a thousand throats 
 For a lullaby, breathed o'er his dainty nest. 
 
 Hour by hour, in the dim moonlight, 
 Arrows had flashed from his deadly bow ; 
 And now he slumbers and dreams of night, 
 Red Eve and her passionate after-glow, 
 Of all the grace of a tell-tale face, 
 And the warm, wild words that are whispered 
 low.
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 SHE has left me the weight of a secret un- 
 spoken 
 A love half revealed in her sorrow-kissed 
 
 eyes. 
 Down the night of despair goes a heart that is 
 
 broken 
 
 To the hell of lost hope, where the worm 
 never dies. 
 
 She has sped from the sphere of my being for 
 
 ever; 
 She has left but a trail on the cloud-ridden 
 
 track ; 
 But if pride had not parted, no shadow could 
 
 sever, 
 
 And the heart she has trampled would 
 welcome her back. 
 
 38
 
 DESPAIR. 29 
 
 Though I stretch out vain hands to a form 
 
 that evades me, 
 
 And pine for a voice that is utterly still, 
 Yet only in dreams her dear image upbraids 
 
 me, 
 
 And the hand of remorse on my bosom 
 falls chill. 
 
 Can the power that united us cleave us 
 
 asunder 
 
 The forces that lured us, so suddenly part ? 
 'Tis the soul answers " No " on the echoing 
 
 thunder ; 
 
 But the moan of despair sweeps a desolate 
 heart.
 
 GOOD-BYE, LOVE! 
 
 SINCE I cannot compel you to love me 
 I will take to the forest my pain, 
 
 Where the green leaves of summer above me 
 Will banish the thought of disdain. 
 
 I will pour out my musical sorrow 
 To nature, than beauty more kind, 
 
 And my lute shall from ^olus borrow 
 The lilt of his wandering wind. 
 
 If I cannot compel you to render 
 
 The love I had died to possess, 
 I shall still find the nightingale tender, 
 
 Still welcome the moonbeam's caress. 
 
 In my heart just a shadow of sadness, 
 On my lips just the ghost of a sigh, 
 
 With a tear for the tremors of madness, 
 Sweet star of love's morning, good-bye ! 
 30
 
 GOOD-BYE, LOVE! 31 
 
 On my lips just the ghost of a sigh, love, 
 In my heart just a shadow of pain, 
 
 With a tear for our parting, good-bye, love ! 
 Good-bye, little soul of disdain !
 
 HAUNTED. 
 
 THERE'S a burden I cannot banish 
 In the long, lone hours of grief ; 
 
 It recedes, but will never vanish ; 
 It saddens, but brings relief; 
 
 It sighs o'er the sunken ashes 
 Of days that are past recall, 
 
 And loud the wind it lashes 
 Round fancy's funeral hall. 
 
 As I follow, entranced, and listen, 
 
 The meaning I half divine 
 Of the dews that in dark eyes glisten, 
 
 And spangle the night in mine. 
 
 Ah ! they tell of love's billows breaking 
 
 The barriers man has set, 
 Of passion from dream awaking, 
 
 Wild yearning, and vain regret 
 
 12
 
 HAUNTED. 33 
 
 And I still hear the music rolling, 
 And shudder between the bars, 
 
 Though her knell they have long ceased 
 
 tolling, 
 And her soul's beyond the stars.
 
 HEART OF STONE. 
 
 IN my heart a tune is ringing 
 That some strolling bard was singing 
 When the chill of parting came, 
 Breathing a beloved name ; 
 And the blinding tears fell fast 
 For the passion of the past. 
 
 Down the stricken night it waileth, 
 Till the demon darkness paleth, 
 And the weary watcher slips 
 Into dream with parted lips 
 Pallid face of wan despair, 
 And the moonbeams in his hair. 
 
 Mournful numbers, madness bringing, 
 In my breast your burden flinging, 
 
 Tell me, shall I never see 
 
 One whose love is life to me ? 
 
 Heart of grief, be heart of stone ! 
 
 You must bear the cross alone. 
 
 34
 
 HESITATION. 
 
 SHALL I pause on the brink for a moment to 
 
 shiver, 
 
 To peer into gloom that is dark as the grave ? 
 Or, scornful of self, launch my barque on the 
 
 river, 
 Cast care to the current, and trust to the wave ? 
 
 thou God, of this shuddering spirit the giver ; 
 What light for the lonely, what hope for the 
 
 slave ? 
 
 1 made me a palace of wonder and pleasure, 
 A garden of flowers in a land of delight ; 
 
 Each fount overflowed with song's infinite 
 
 measure ; 
 Mirth mellowed the day; love enchanted 
 
 the night : 
 All that passion could give of her tenderest 
 
 treasure 
 
 Was mine till the stars in their season took 
 flight. 
 
 35
 
 36 HESITATION. 
 
 But frail are love's walls, and his palace must 
 
 crumble, 
 His garden grow weeds, and each fountain 
 
 fall dumb ; 
 
 Man's babels of bliss are predestined to tumble, 
 And the depths of remorse are there any 
 
 can plumb? 
 The tempest sweeps light o'er the lowly and 
 
 humble, 
 
 But the passionate heart in its pride must 
 succumb. 
 
 The light of my soul is it honour or glory ? 
 The star of my song is it wealth or 
 
 renown ? 
 What way leads to truth not encrimsoned 
 
 and gory ? 
 What guerdon of valour, save martyrdom's 
 
 crown ? 
 
 All ends are the same in life's pitiful story : 
 The peerless and brave in the battle go 
 down.
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 GOOD-BYE ! good-bye to the hopes that were 
 
 reared and shattered : 
 A last farewell to the hours whose life was 
 
 flame. 
 Time never restores the blossoms his breath 
 
 has scattered : 
 
 The stars still gleam, but their beauty is 
 not the same. 
 
 The anchor's up, and our ship goes sweeping 
 
 seaward ; 
 
 Her white keel severs the shuddering, wine- 
 dark ways ; 
 But the billows of banished bliss come rolling 
 
 me-ward, 
 
 And bear me back to the haven of happier 
 days. 
 
 37
 
 38 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 The past lies fair, with its vistas of light behind 
 
 me 
 Like some brief shadow of dream from a 
 
 poppy-land ; 
 But bloomless garlands of sunless hope now 
 
 bind me, 
 
 And memory leaves but the touch of a 
 darling hand. 
 
 In my far-off, sea-caressed home fond hearts 
 
 are pleading : 
 There are crowns to weave, there are visions 
 
 of sunlit skies ; 
 
 But the fairest dream is ever the dream re- 
 ceding, 
 
 And the sweetest love is ever the love that 
 flies.
 
 IGNORANT ROSES. 
 
 BLUE Plymouth waters woo my sweet, 
 Green Devon woodlands love her, 
 
 Red poppies meet her pretty feet, 
 Brown branches wave above her. 
 
 Gold sunbeams, shattered in her hair, 
 
 But glorify gold tresses, 
 And roses swear she is so fair 
 
 They pine for her caresses. 
 
 Ah ! roses red, how can ye know 
 
 The rapture of my lady ? 
 For love lies low where zephyrs blow 
 
 In dream-dells cool and shady. 
 
 What wist ye of the nodding night, 
 The thrill of moonlit kisses, 
 
 When, out of sight, love's warm delight 
 Mates all your modest misses ? 
 
 39
 
 LOUIS KOSSUTH. 
 
 WHO will mourn the undying dead 
 
 Gone into darkness, garlanded, 
 
 Fame's tender trophies around his head ? 
 
 Who will mourn for a nation's night ; 
 Weep for the woes of trampled right, 
 Sunless sorrow, and starless might ? 
 
 Stained, bedewed with the blood of strife, 
 Freedom flashed on the hero life ; 
 Lured his spirit when storms were rife. 
 
 Time unites what the sword may sever 
 Death may come, but oblivion never : 
 Louis Kossuth lives on for ever.
 
 LIFE. 
 
 OH, earth and sky, I live ! for love compelling 
 Has rilled the thirsty inlets of my soul. 
 
 I feel the fount of song within me welling, 
 And passion's frenzied billows slip control. 
 
 For one fair woman's eyes, divinely tender, 
 Mirrored in mine, have blinded them with 
 
 love ; 
 
 Then rose my sun, my angel, my defender, 
 Where calumny with lonely weakness 
 strove. 
 
 I, who caressed the withered wanton Anguish, 
 Supped off a sigh, and drained no toast but 
 
 tears, 
 Doomed in the dungeons of despair to 
 
 languish, 
 
 Counting each hour a myriad mournful 
 years
 
 42 LIFE. 
 
 I, whom the Levite left with pious loathing, 
 Wounded and well-nigh perished from the 
 
 drouth, 
 
 Waken to life, whom love, with pity clothing, 
 Heals with the countless kisses of her 
 mouth.
 
 LIFT THE LYRE. 
 
 LIFT the lyre from failing fingers 
 Ere the hand is cold and set ; 
 
 Still the fire of music lingers 
 
 Where the strings with tears are wet. 
 
 You who loved him softly taking, 
 Place it on his peaceful breast ; 
 
 Nevermore the silence breaking 
 Lord and lyre shall take their rest. 
 
 Do not mourn the dead musician ; 
 
 Stay the tears ye idly shed. 
 Deep in poppy-bloom Elysian 
 
 Let him lay his weary head. 
 
 Only weep for words unspoken, 
 Sigh but for the songs unsung. 
 
 Death salutes him by this token 
 Whom the Gods love perish young. 
 
 43
 
 LINUS TO LYTERSES. 
 
 WHAT of the past, Lyterses ? 
 
 What of the gathered years ? 
 Time, with his tender mercies, 
 
 Leaves not a stain of tears. 
 
 Where are the joys that bound us ? 
 
 Where are the songs we sung? 
 Where the warm hands that crowned us 
 
 Kings, when the world was young ? 
 
 Weary of life immortal 
 
 Linus in languor nods, 
 Dreaming of death's dream-portal, 
 
 Panting to sleep with gods. 
 
 Go, little gush of verses, 
 
 Over Time's barren bars : 
 Whisper to lone Lyterses, 
 
 " Linus still seeks the stars."
 
 LINKED TO THE PAST. 
 
 OUR roots strike deep into the soil of time, 
 The loam of perished ages holds us fast, 
 And though with heavenward glance we soar 
 
 sublime, 
 
 We cannot wholly rid us of the past 
 Still superstition croons, though Faith be 
 
 gone, 
 And timid Conscience mumbles sadly on. 
 
 For dim ancestral spectres dog our ways, 
 Live in each varied mood, each passing 
 
 thought. 
 From the drear store-house of their garnered 
 
 days 
 Faint hopes, forgotten fears, old joys, en- 
 
 wrought 
 
 Into the living brain, can often teach 
 A grander lesson than the parsons preach. 
 
 45
 
 46 LINKED TO THE PAST. 
 
 We wear the robes of dead humanity ; 
 
 The cerements of our Fathers wrap us round ; 
 
 We cannot 'scape them, though we vainly try. 
 
 Dull matter weighs upon us : we are bound 
 
 By links of ancient virtue, former sin, 
 
 And perished deeds pursue their course within. 
 
 The fool abhors his earthly tenement, 
 And pines for hell in hopes of future bliss, 
 Raising of blood and tears a monument 
 A lasting token lest Jehovah miss 
 His glut of Christian gore. Why shun the 
 
 sod, 
 Poor fool, when soul and matter meet in 
 
 God?
 
 LOST IDEALS. 
 
 YOUTH fades, but the star that we loved and 
 
 vowed to follow 
 And seek till the long night sank upon 
 
 darkened eyes 
 Has this, too, left us alone in the hateful 
 
 hollow 
 
 Where mute despair on the bosom of mad- 
 ness lies ? 
 
 Is there no faith in the far-off light that made 
 
 us 
 The hero souls that we seemed when the 
 
 years were young ? 
 
 Will no dim gleam of our glorious trust up- 
 braid us ? 
 
 No memory rise and rebuke till the heart 
 is wrung? 
 
 47
 
 48 LOST IDEALS. 
 
 One star soon fails ; but the lesson its beauty 
 
 taught us, 
 Shall this, too, fail when the current of life 
 
 runs slack ; 
 When tyrannous Time and his henchman, 
 
 Care, have sought us, 
 
 And doubt's wan face ever peers o'er the 
 waters black? 
 
 The tiller slips from the stiffened hand that 
 
 guided 
 Hope's buoyant barque in her course 
 
 through the moonless sea, 
 And the shuddering coward steers into port 
 
 who prided 
 
 His soul in its scorn of the waves, in the 
 will of the free. 
 
 Still, far away, down the dark -browed night 
 
 is streaming 
 * Truth's burning star in its glory and 
 
 grandeur lone ; 
 It kindles the young, it colours e'en childhood's 
 
 dreaming, 
 But old men sleep, and forget that it ever 
 
 shone.
 
 LOVE AND THE LARK. 
 
 O YOU so fair, whose glorious hair, 
 Bright aureole, beams above you, 
 
 Your beauty fires a thousand lyres 
 Whose masters madly love you. 
 
 O you so sweet, whose tiny feet 
 Made glad the gloom around me, 
 
 Though none came near the darkness drear 
 Where true love sought and found me, 
 
 Your lips redeemed the heart that dreamed, 
 
 With love's own tender token ; 
 Then passion came, with eyes aflame, 
 
 And all sweet words unspoken 
 
 Shaped into song, and fled along 
 
 In numbers wildly splendid, 
 Flashed through the dark, and told the lark 
 
 How nobly night was ended. 
 
 49 4
 
 50 LOVE AND THE LARK. 
 
 " Awake ! awake, bright bird ! and take 
 Your fill of new-born rapture ! 
 
 Wake lyre and lute, that erst were mute, 
 Immortal strains to capture." 
 
 Ah ! then she rose whose deathless throes 
 Of music thrilled the dawning : 
 
 Made young love seem a golden dream, 
 Beneath Heav'n's sky-blue awning ; 
 
 And blithe she sped to rouse the dead 
 
 From slumber to rejoicing ; 
 Then, sun-caressed, sank down to rest, 
 
 Still " dawn " victorious voicing.
 
 LOVE BEYOND LAW. 
 
 Do you still, my sweet, remember love's 
 
 awakening last September, 
 When I cast cold reason from me when 
 
 I lost my soul for you ; 
 And I never thought of heeding, with your 
 
 soft eyes sadly pleading, 
 If the clouds were black above me, or the 
 sky was summer blue ? 
 
 Though bright days have dawned and perished 
 
 since the first hour that we cherished, 
 Though we've clambered cold to heaven, 
 
 and descended hot to hell, 
 Since two hearts went wildly beating with 
 
 the rapture of their meeting, 
 And our lips were loth to utter all that 
 eyes alone could tell ; 
 51
 
 52 LOVE BEYOND LAW. 
 
 Though love ripened into passion in its 
 
 helpless human fashion ; 
 Though we've sowed the seeds of folly, and 
 
 the harvest is regret ; 
 Still, when even this has vanished with the 
 
 past for ever banished, 
 'Tis the memory of that meeting that my 
 heart can ne'er forget. 
 
 For your eyes were bright and burning with 
 
 the fire of guilty yearning, 
 And I knew that love had conquered when 
 
 their secret flashed in mine ; 
 And to each it little mattered if the universe 
 
 were shattered, 
 
 For young love had clouded reason, and his 
 madness was divine. 
 
 You were mine, past all redeeming, when your 
 
 heart awoke from dreaming 
 In the sunrise of love's summer in the 
 
 springtime of delight ; 
 
 When warm passion kissed and crowned you, 
 with the green leaves gathered round 
 you, 
 
 And the day drooped into even, and the 
 darkness drew the night.
 
 LOVE BEYOND LAW. 53 
 
 You are mine, sweet flower, for ever, by those 
 
 very ties we sever ; 
 By that creed of cursed convention that our 
 
 rebel hearts disdain. 
 In the spirit I shall take you, though my 
 
 presence must forsake you, 
 And our love shall live triumphant down 
 dark hours of lonely pain.
 
 LOVE, DEATH, AND SONG, 
 IN THRACE. 
 
 MY little Lydian girl is dead ; 
 
 Yet, ere she drooped her pretty head, 
 
 I brought white snowdrops to her bed, 
 
 And, in my grief, I whispered low : 
 " Ah ! stay, while yet thy sisters blow ! 
 Stay, sweet ! I cannot let thee go." 
 
 She clasped and kissed the flowers I gave, 
 And said : " By Hebrus' rolling wave 
 Your snowdrop white will find a grave." 
 
 And once she faintly tried to sing ; 
 Then, sobbing like a stricken thing, 
 In gloom her soul went wandering. 
 
 I called her each endearing name 
 (How cold they seemed ! my words, how 
 
 tame !) 
 No answer from the mute lips came. 
 
 54
 
 LOVE, DEATH, AND SONG. 55 
 
 All night I lay awake, and heard 
 The saddest song that ever stirred 
 The heart of man. No mortal bird 
 
 Hath power to flood the moon-kissed vale 
 With such a hopeless, haunting wail. 
 Ah ! soul-enchanting nightingale, 
 
 I know thee now : thou art my sweet : 
 'Twas thine the passion-heart that beat 
 All night in music at my feet.
 
 LOVE LAUGHS AT CASTE. 
 
 MERE money cannot wake warm love, 
 
 That slumbers oft belated 
 In these sad days, nor millions move 
 
 Two hearts once sweetly mated. 
 
 My Lady flaunts in silken gown, 
 Or paints ; it little matters. 
 
 True love will go in russet brown 
 To court true love in tatters. 
 
 Not silken sheen nor prudent paint, 
 Nor modish styles of fashion, 
 
 Nor all the virtues of a saint, 
 Can stir one spark of passion. 
 
 Mistress or maid what matters it ? 
 
 As mistress so the maid is. 
 Blue blood and birth count not a whit 
 
 Where love the only trade is. 
 
 56
 
 LOVE LAUGHS AT CASTE. 57 
 
 One woman with another vies 
 
 (Tis so throughout all ages) : 
 One at a marquis casts her eyes, 
 
 Another at his pages. 
 
 But if his lordship should prefer 
 
 The meaner rustic beauty, 
 And if his looks should light on her, 
 
 What hinders love ? Not duty. 
 
 The difference 'twixt that haughty dame, 
 
 From every ill exempted, 
 And that poor girl without a name, 
 
 Is this that one was tempted.
 
 LOVE, MORN, AND MUSIC. 
 
 OH ! give me love, with the trees above, 
 In the dells where dewdrops cluster, 
 
 Heaven's heart of blue, and a trellised view 
 Of morn's magnificent lustre, 
 
 And joy's bright bird in the clouds half heard, 
 
 Or the cuckoo faintly calling, 
 Hushed happiness in the close caress 
 
 Of passion that's never palling.
 
 LOVE'S SILENT SHRINE. 
 
 WHERE once shone love, cold friendship ruled 
 
 supreme, 
 
 And voices broke the silence of the shrine 
 That v/ist not of his solitude divine 
 Whose life passed from pursuing into dream : 
 
 From strenuous straining for a glimpse of 
 
 truth, 
 
 From rushing river into memory's meres, 
 Into the calm of unforgotten years, 
 Into the golden granary of youth. 
 
 I knew what I had never known before 
 The little light my friendship could bestow, 
 The coldness and the glamour of its glow, 
 Where love's imperious star flashed out of 
 yore. 
 
 59
 
 6o LOVE'S SILENT SHRINE. 
 
 The loyal hearts of friends may count for 
 
 much 
 They throw faint starlight on the spirit's 
 
 gloom : 
 
 But love can bring so many flowers to bloom, 
 To tremble into beauty at his touch ! 
 
 For love can flood the universe with song, 
 And stir sweet strains of music out of sleep ; 
 Love sows the seeds that future thousands 
 
 reap, 
 And makes the weakest arm supremely 
 
 strong. 
 
 Love lures the hero soul to daring deed ; 
 Love conquers kingdoms for the sake of one ; 
 Love lends new rapture to the golden sun, 
 Mellows the moon, and fills with flowers the 
 mead. 
 
 Love makes small souls gigantically rise, 
 And bid defiance to the shrinking world ; 
 Love dares, and tyrants, into Tartarus hurled, 
 Languish, and freedom's pinions cleave the 
 skies.
 
 LOVE'S SILENT SHRINE. 61 
 
 But friendship cannot fill the throbbing hours 
 Of desolation with love's priceless boon, 
 So, from the memory of that afternoon, 
 I culled this little bunch of faded flowers. 
 
 No deep red roses of love's lost July, 
 
 No pinks to sanctify her maiden kiss, 
 
 No warm carnations of a wilder bliss, 
 
 To fill you with their sweetness where you lie, 
 
 Pensive perhaps, and lost to human view ; 
 
 Wrapt in the past, or living in the light 
 
 Of lofty thought Ah ! sometimes let your 
 
 sight 
 Fall on this little bunch of cornflowers blue.
 
 NATURE'S SADNESS. 
 
 [AFTER OLD ENGLISH.} 
 
 ME soft-eyed sorrow courts 
 Where human grief is not, 
 And mournful Echo sports 
 Round that secluded grot 
 Where on green leaves I lie 
 And let the hours go by. 
 
 And Nature oft will bind 
 My soul with silent pain 
 For the sadness of the wind, 
 And the pathos of the rain, 
 And oft I shed a tear 
 For all dead flowers so dear. 
 
 I love the lilting lark, 
 The song that shatters sleep ; 
 But best the midnight dark, 
 With woe for words too deep ; 
 When the lorn nightingale's 
 
 Sweet sorrows flood the vales. 
 62
 
 NATURE'S SADNESS. 63 
 
 The ripple of the stream 
 Revealeth vain desire 
 To linger yet, and dream 
 By woodland glades afire 
 With yellow daffodils, 
 And cease awhile its rills. 
 
 The summer pines to stay 
 Among the forest leaves ; 
 But, on some dreary day, 
 Comes Autumn with his sheaves, 
 And green things grow to gold, 
 And canker with the cold. 
 
 The sunrise brings delight, 
 But the morn sheds pearls of dew 
 For the perished joys of night 
 And the stars she never knew ; 
 For the roses that were red ; 
 For the petals passion shed.
 
 PASSION'S PASTORAL. 
 
 A STUPOR steals upon me ; I become 
 Like one who takes the magic of the moon 
 Too deeply in his veins to feel the sting 
 Of things ephemeral one whose buoyant 
 
 brain 
 Floats on thought's hasty tide to rapture's 
 
 sea. 
 
 Now through me creeps delicious drowsiness 
 And calm content, as when some deity 
 Nods in Olympus o'er his nectar wine, 
 And folds the nymph he panted to possess 
 Unto his bosom. I would lay me down 
 Under the gloom of patriarchal oaks, 
 Snatching from solitude and jealous time 
 Some joy to gloat upon in darker years. 
 Woman's red lips, gold moonlight, and the 
 
 gleam 
 
 And fair white contour of encircling arms, 
 64
 
 PASSION'S PASTORAL. 65 
 
 In starlight's shade wless serenity, 
 Shall make my heaven ; while the nightingale 
 Hymns a sweet marriage service over us, 
 And bells our bridal forth from fluted throat.
 
 SLEEP, DEAR! 
 
 THE night grows faint, like a swooning saint 
 
 In the sight of the Holy Grail, 
 And the breeze, first born of the night and 
 
 morn, 
 
 Dies off in a plaintive wail : 
 Then dream, dear ! dream ! 
 
 Let never a gleam 
 From the shafts of sunrise find you, 
 Till vesper breathes o'er the crown love 
 
 wreathes, 
 And wild flowers freshly bind you. 
 
 The long grass shakes in the leafy brakes 
 When the golden light appears, 
 
 And earth, like a bride half-terrified, 
 Smiles up through a veil of tears : 
 
 66
 
 SLEEP, DEAR! 67 
 
 Then sleep, dear ! sleep ! 
 Lest the sun-god leap 
 From the shameless east, and find you 
 With cheeks all flushed for the joys that 
 
 blushed 
 In the burning hours behind you.
 
 SONG. 
 
 COME to my arms, O sweet ! 
 The world, enchanted, dreams, 
 In summer heat of passion's feet, 
 And Luna's amorous beams. 
 
 Come to my arms, O sweet ! 
 The tireless wings of Time 
 Shall stay their flight where the love- 
 sick night 
 Droops warm on a cloudless clime. 
 
 She comes to my arms my sweet, 
 Moon-kissed and wind-caressed. 
 The love-light lies in her starry eyes, 
 And Nature knows the rest.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 FRONTED with fate, and knowing he must 
 
 die, 
 
 Whose gush of gore encrimsons all the grass, 
 Life's little shiftings scened before him pass 
 The solemn world of childish fantasy : 
 Passion's superb red sunrise in youth's sky, 
 And, scarcely with a tear for what he was, 
 Stricken in manhood's strength he droops, 
 
 alas ! 
 
 And doffs the tatters of mortality, 
 With laughter on his lips : his latest breath 
 A prayer that truth may triumph in the light, 
 And dissolution only quickeneth 
 The soul that never yielded to affright ; 
 That scorns the shadowy terrors of dim death, 
 And with firm footfall beats the blinding 
 
 night.
 
 THEE ONLY. 
 
 When all my nights are lonely, 
 
 And all my days are long, 
 My thoughts turn to thee only, 
 And bind thy brows with song 
 For all the flowers 
 Of lyric hours 
 To thee alone belong. 
 
 When all my heart is aching 
 
 For woes I cannot heal, 
 When sunless dawns are waking, 
 To thee alone I kneel : 
 Through clouds and cares 
 My broken prayers 
 To thy dear bosom steal.
 
 THEE ONLY. 71 
 
 Thy face alone I cherish, 
 
 When other faces fade ; 
 When loves ephemeral perish, 
 And idols are unmade. 
 Of all bereft, 
 So thou art left, 
 I shall not be afraid.
 
 THE GUARDIAN OF THE FOUNT. 
 
 AT the fount of the Muses a dragon lies 
 
 dreaming, 
 And no man may drink of the wonderful 
 
 wave 
 But he conquer the foe with his sword and 
 
 lance gleaming. 
 
 The magic of song is the meed of the 
 brave. 
 
 'Tis the fiend of affright that lies watching 
 
 these waters 
 
 Foul dragon, thrice-coiled round the well- 
 springs of song, 
 Who guards the pure stream of Mnemosyne's 
 
 daughters, 
 
 And none may approach save the fearless 
 and strong.
 
 THE GUARDIAN OF THE FOUNT. 73 
 
 For malice and hate follow after the seeker 
 Whom fiend could not conquer, nor terror 
 
 control ; 
 His sabre smites keen for the wounded, the 
 
 weaker, 
 
 But tempests shall tirelessly rage round his 
 soul. 
 
 I crave but a drop from the silver-tongued 
 
 eddy : 
 This drained, I will hie me right joyously 
 
 home, 
 Singing : " Soldier of Truth, in the ranks ever 
 
 ready, 
 
 God's starlight is shrouded, but morning 
 shall come."
 
 THE SEER. 
 
 LOVE seems more fair for lonely hours of 
 
 sorrow, 
 And darkness lends more rapture to the 
 
 light. 
 The day would drag and weary without 
 
 morrow, 
 
 And sleepless suns might sicken for the 
 night 
 
 Not all in gloom, nor yet in light eternal, 
 We wend our way to where God's ocean 
 
 rolls : 
 Still winter lingers, though the vales grow 
 
 vernal, 
 
 And storms await to vex too venturous 
 souls. 
 
 74
 
 THE SEER. 75 
 
 Yet, though the singer sees but gloom sur- 
 round him ; 
 Though venom's bitter tongue tries to 
 
 defame ; 
 His sword still seeks the countless hosts around 
 
 him, 
 
 Smites for the truth, and puts them all to 
 shame. 
 
 And some far-distant sun shall gleam and 
 
 gladden 
 
 The brow of him who prophesied the 
 day; 
 
 Though doubt distract, though shaft of 
 
 slander sadden, 
 
 And Martyr's thorns are mingled with the 
 bay, 
 
 His eyes shall view the promised land, that 
 
 never 
 His feet may tread who served God's people 
 
 well ; 
 
 His deathless name endure with us for ever 
 Who fought for truth, and in the conflict 
 fell;
 
 76 THE SEER. 
 
 And generation call to generation, 
 
 " Lo ! this is he who sang the dawn between 
 Dark midnight hours, when no light brought 
 
 salvation. 
 
 Peace to his ashes ! Keep his memory 
 green." 
 
 Aye ! though vast tracts of darkness close 
 
 behind him, 
 Though earth receives the blood he freely 
 
 shed, ^ 
 
 God's meed upon the mountain-top shall find 
 
 him, 
 And all the pomp of sunrise crown his head. 
 
 The world shall live more lovely for his being 
 Whose grand, imperious spirit drew the 
 
 morn 
 
 From sombre skies ; who, victory far foreseeing, 
 Bequeathed his sword to warrior souls un- 
 born.
 
 TO AN OLD-WORLD LOVE. 
 
 SWEET old-world love, on whose soft locks 
 
 descending 
 Gold upon gold the sunbeams used to 
 
 play, 
 By day, by night, with pity passion 
 
 blending, 
 
 Thy starry eyes illume my lonely 
 way. 
 
 When Time, who brings no bedfellow but 
 
 sorrow, 
 And loveless years, have done their worst 
 
 to chill 
 
 The drooping soul that shuns the sad to- 
 morrow, 
 
 And darkling thoughts are boding some 
 new ill, 
 
 77
 
 78 TO AN OLD-WORLD LOVE. 
 
 Thy phantom form shines through the dark- 
 ness o'er me ; 
 Shatters the chains that held me, helpless 
 
 bound ; 
 And long-lost days of rapture rise before 
 
 me 
 
 When by thy love my soul was clasped 
 around. 
 
 " Was clasped," said I ? Nay ! love endures 
 
 for ever : 
 'Tis this that keeps me sane, that goads 
 
 me on. 
 My guiding-star, were I from thee to 
 
 sever, 
 
 Life would be death, or death be dear 
 alone. 
 
 Yet, as it is, love calls me to my duty, 
 
 Though thou art gone, 'tis only for a 
 time. 
 
 Still through the dark the loadstone of thy 
 
 beauty 
 
 Draws on my soul from height to height 
 to climb.
 
 TO AN OLD-WORLD LOVE. 79 
 
 So I will not complain, but bear me boldly, 
 Nor stress of storm shall drive me from 
 
 my post ; 
 And though the stars may shine upon me 
 
 coldly, 
 In some far world I'll find the love I lost.
 
 TO L. G. A. 
 
 A HEART that beats along the barren years 
 Alone, unloved, that only friendship cheers, 
 But cannot soothe when desolation fills 
 The empty creeks that love has never laved : 
 A heart whose only prayer is peace, that 
 
 stills, 
 
 And broods upon dim eyes, and broken wills 
 That in pride's Nessus shirt the world have 
 
 braved, 
 
 This heart, so human in its helplessness, 
 And so inhuman under fiery stress 
 Of scathing malice and the mark that brands 
 The son of song, however frail he be, 
 Salutes you with these poppies for your 
 
 hands ; 
 Some gathered in green meads and antique 
 
 lands, 
 
 Some by the gloom-robed, ever-restless sea. 
 so
 
 TO L. G. A. 81 
 
 These withered flowers are all I can bestow : 
 I may not linger where the roses grow, 
 Nor in some smiling valley take my rest ; 
 But you, with tuneful inspiration sweet, 
 Have drawn the sting of sorrow from my 
 
 breast, 
 And lightened of the load that on me 
 
 pressed : 
 Then take this little tribute at your feet
 
 TO NATURE. 
 
 OH ! many a time upon thy kind old breast 
 I've eased my heart of persecution's quest, 
 And, gazing awestruck over solemn skies, 
 Sunk swooning into mystic reveries ; 
 And often, when the bitter tears were blinding, 
 I've felt thy gentle arms around me winding, 
 And heard a zephyr whisper in mine ear : 
 " Child of the sun and sea, thy home is here. 
 Where in the brake the fluted throstles sing, 
 And homing doves are faintly hovering, 
 Calm peace shall lay what human anguish 
 
 lingers, 
 
 And sweep the lyre with mild, angelic ringers. 
 Then take thy wounded spirit from the world 
 To where the heart of Nature is unfurled ; 
 Where, o'er thy head, the trembling tree-tops 
 
 close, 
 
 And life is one long summer of repose, 
 82
 
 TO NATURE. 83 
 
 By star-kissed stream, and echo-haunted cave, 
 And lonely isle that lazy waters lave ; 
 Where sorrow sleeps, and all existence seems 
 A many-coloured galaxy of dreams."
 
 WHERE ARE YOU NOW? 
 
 SWEET ! where are you now ? 
 Do the wanton sunbeams, glancing, 
 Kiss those queenly eyes entrancing ? 
 
 Light that lovely brow ? 
 
 Sweet ! what fancies blow, 
 What thrice happy breezes, round you ? 
 Only this that love has found you : 
 
 This alone I know. 
 
 Sweet ! where'er you be, 
 Love shall lead my heart to follow, 
 As, in search of sun, the swallow 
 
 Skims the rocking sea. 
 
 Sweet ! how fares my heart ? 
 Do the dainty lips that stole it 
 In the silent hours console it 
 
 For the leagues that part ?
 
 WHERE ARE YOU NOW? 85 
 
 Let my days be drear ! 
 Grief of small account I'll reckon. 
 All night long bright visions beckon : 
 
 Darkness draws us near.
 
 THE BRIDE OF LIFE. 
 
 IN dreams my spirit found her 
 
 Star-driven, rapture-led ; 
 Night's quivering coils crept round her, 
 
 And with the dawn she fled. 
 I dreamed that love had crowned her 
 
 With roses newly dead. 
 
 She haunts me to undoing, 
 
 This Lady of my quest ; 
 Through midnight hours pursuing 
 
 I seek a sheltering breast ; 
 That yields not to my wooing 
 
 Its secret unconfessed. 
 
 Calm sentinel of slumbers, 
 
 Nor wearying she stands ; 
 Yet calls in noiseless numbers, 
 
 And holds seductive hands, 
 To where the clay encumbers 
 
 My soul in iron bands. 
 
 86
 
 THE BRIDE OF LIFE. 87 
 
 Old loves have been before her, 
 And seared with ardent breath 
 
 The heart that doth implore her, 
 That thrills, and quickeneth 
 
 Cold passion to adore her 
 
 Whose maiden name is Death.
 
 CAROL NO MORE. 
 
 Too loud she sings her new-born happiness. 
 O hush thee, swallow-heart, upon thy way ! 
 For yonder clouds are boding of distress, 
 And darkness smites the day. 
 
 Too loud, too clear 
 Thy carols arise, 
 For the night is near 
 With her lullabies ; 
 She shall hush to sleep 
 Thy fluttering soul, 
 With the lightning's sweep 
 And the thunder-roll ; 
 She shall follow and find 
 Thy secret pain 
 With the watch-dog wind 
 And the shepherd rain. 
 
 88
 
 CAROL NO MORE. 89 
 
 The sun shall slope 
 O'er the red, red sea, 
 And gossamer Hope 
 With soiled wings flee. 
 Too clear, too loud 
 Thy carols arise : 
 Fate is weaving a shroud 
 O'er the glimmering skies ; 
 Fate is digging a tomb 
 For a dainty form 
 In the gathered gloom 
 Of the rising storm.
 
 BEYOND WORDS. 
 
 I WORSHIP thee beyond my words can tell, 
 And all sweet thoughts at thought of thee 
 
 take birth : 
 These flowers I gathered from the grand old 
 
 earth, 
 But one stray bud I deemed from Heaven 
 
 fell. 
 
 And if this be, and thou wilt call it thine; 
 Though Faith be coy, and Hope a fickle jade, 
 Of thy great Charity, sweetheart, be mine, 
 And with thy light illume a singer's shade.
 
 OF HIS MUSE. 
 
 No vision of inglorious years of gloom, 
 Nor Lethe's flood that laps a sunken soul, 
 Can break her tideless billows to control. 
 Oh she was cradled in the fiery womb 
 Of giant forces, swathed at Summer's loom, 
 And rocked to sleep by Autumn's thunder- 
 roll ; 
 
 She drained the mother-milk of Winter's bowl, 
 And with the Spring rejoicing rent the tomb. 
 
 If through the tenour of her course there 
 
 dreams 
 
 A gentle surge of lightly shaken leaves, 
 The silver strain of unpolluted streams, 
 A scent of Shiraz where she waits and weaves 
 Through songlit hours her many-chorded 
 
 themes, 
 
 The promise of her birth my Muse achieves. 
 91
 
 THE LIGHT OF DEATH. 
 
 SLOWLY o'er the sunken face 
 Pallid-grey the shades are sweeping, 
 As upon the day comes creeping 
 
 Night's mysterious twilight grace. 
 
 Softly, as the shadows fall 
 When the spectral light has wended, 
 Where the white and black are blended 
 
 Into eve's uncertain pall, 
 
 So, upon life's tragic day, 
 Gleam of rapture, gloom of sorrow, 
 Steals a night without a morrow 
 
 In the quivering deathlight grey. 
 
 Who can track him to his goal ? 
 Where the light in shadow merges 
 Is there peace upon life's verges ? 
 
 Is there starshine on his soul ? 
 92
 
 WHAT REMAINS. 
 
 IN a desolate shrine, 
 And a harp that is hushed, 
 There's a trace of the wine 
 And the music that gushed, 
 Though the hand of the priest 
 Brings oblations no more, 
 And the numbers have ceased 
 That enchanted of yore. 
 
 So my heart has a stain 
 Of the dregs of delight, 
 And a sullen refrain 
 Haunts the hag-ridden night. 
 Not a tribute of tears 
 Ever falls, and the moan 
 Of the music that sears 
 Is a song of my own.
 
 A FALLEN DEITY. 
 
 OH, it was pitiful to see this man, 
 So starlike once, now humbled in the dust 
 Of swinish craving, and insatiate lust 
 The ruined lineaments of youth to scan, 
 O'er which the demon Drink had placed her 
 
 ban : 
 
 With watery eyes, and clawing hands out- 
 thrust, 
 
 Beating the air, to beg a paltry crust, 
 And all the while his tuneful numbers ran, 
 
 And inspiration babbled at the fount 
 
 Of broken godhead. As he strove to mount 
 
 His jaded Pegasus, unbidden tears 
 
 Rose at the sight of genius in a stye ; 
 
 Then a mad whirl of mocking thoughts went 
 
 by, 
 
 And in their track the dark-browed phantom 
 years. 
 
 94
 
 ON READING "FROM DAWN TO 
 SUNSET." 
 
 I KNOW not what grand voice of ecstasy 
 Rang through the shuddering caverns of 
 
 despair, 
 
 Wresting the monster Madness from his lair, 
 And bade the rebel-soul of Rancour die, 
 Bringing to Doubt the balm of sympathy, 
 The kiss of Peace to heavy-hearted Care, 
 Smoothed Sorrow's wrinkled brow and tangled 
 
 hair 
 With its most human haunting melody. 
 
 But this I know a stone was rolled away 
 That barred my shrouded being from the day, 
 And down the gloom God's herald light sped 
 
 fast. 
 Then from the womb of Death I sprang, and 
 
 cried : 
 
 " I live I live, who once was crucified," 
 And into sunlight, singing, rose at last 
 
 95
 
 THE POET'S LEGACY. 
 
 WHEN this that once was I is void of 
 
 breath, 
 
 And on my lips the leaden lips of Death 
 Are softly pressed, and Nature's close embrace 
 Has kissed the tell-tale furrows from my 
 
 face ; 
 
 When Time has set his seal upon these brows, 
 And passion's melted into memory's drowse ; 
 When o'er the broken harp's tear-sodden 
 
 strings 
 
 Sad Muses droop their unavailing wings ; 
 When other cares have taught thee to forget 
 The star that made one night divine, and sot 
 In stormy splendour on the sullen track, 
 O'er death's abysmal sea of vasty black ; 
 The voice I leave behind shall hale thee back, 
 And bid thee gaze above the giddy throng 
 
 On thine own woman-heart enshrined in song. 
 96
 
 SUDDEN LIGHT. 
 
 A GLEAM of light, a vision of sunshine caught 
 
 me, 
 Beat back the gloom for the term of a 
 
 golden hour ; 
 White arms enclosed, and wild lips suddenly 
 
 sought me, 
 And out of my heart there burst a glorious 
 
 flower 
 A rose of song that had blossomed and 
 
 dawned to beauty, 
 Through throbbing nights and the drench 
 
 of passionate tears ; 
 Whose crimson heart was the life-blood shed 
 
 for duty, 
 Whose barren thorns were the unrejoicing 
 
 years. 
 A balm there was of a summer of all sweet 
 
 summers, 
 A scent of surfeited Mays of moonless bliss ; 
 
 97 7
 
 98 SUDDEN LIGHT. 
 
 When love seemed real to her passion- 
 prompted mummers, 
 And history hung on their first enraptured 
 
 kiss ; 
 When the breathless night was still, and the 
 
 stars had covered 
 Their conscious eyes, and never a murmur 
 
 broke 
 The swoon of the slumberous spell that faintly 
 
 hovered 
 O'er dreamlit dales where only a Zephyr 
 
 spoke 
 O'er the forest where glimmered in gloom 
 
 cathedral arches, 
 
 Mysterious aisles, and whispering porticoes, 
 With ghostly columns of shadowy spectral 
 
 larches, 
 Where God endures as a Spirit of vast repose.
 
 TO EURYDICE. 
 
 WORDS, not deeds, are idle idle : 
 
 Only action is divine. 
 Every bard must have his bridle : 
 I have mine. 
 
 Yet if words could find fruition 
 
 On whatever soil they fell, 
 Save one spirit from perdition 
 It is well. 
 
 If some single lyric, straying, 
 
 Find an echo in your breast, 
 Of the hours I've spent a-maying, 
 One is blest. 
 
 If a s.ong have power to tear you 
 
 From this vast and voiceless gloom ; 
 Then, by Heaven ! I'll win and wear you 
 Until doom. 
 
 99
 
 THE MAIDEN'S VIGIL. 
 
 IN my fancy sings a maiden 
 By the barren moonlit shore, 
 
 Where the sea for ever surges, 
 And the wild storm-furies roar ; 
 
 Wailing weird funereal dirges 
 
 From a heart that hopes no more. 
 
 In my dreams I see her lifting 
 Tearless eyes across the gloom ; 
 
 Round her soul the tempest, mocking, 
 Shrieks the sailor's chant of doom : 
 
 At her feet the billows, rocking, 
 Roll their dull receding boom. 
 
 And the winds and waters, chiding, 
 Bid her nightly vigil keep : 
 With the lone heart overladen, 
 And the eyes that never weep, 
 
 Thou shalt be for ever, maiden, 
 Moaning dirges by the deep."
 
 FAREWELL! 
 
 BE brave, my sweet, look up and say : " Fare- 
 well!" 
 
 The last sad word that I may hear you speak ; 
 For love so mighty, human will so weak, 
 My own voice chills me like a tolling bell, 
 Rolls in my breast its cold continuous knell, 
 And rings the ready teardrops down my 
 
 cheek. 
 
 Then say the word that I so vainly seek 
 To cast across love's ever-surging swell. 
 
 We part in passion still unsatisfied, 
 Leaving the sunlit shores of hope behind : 
 You with the snow-white canvas of a bride, 
 And I with bare poles bending to the 
 
 wind. 
 
 Be mine the ocean heart of lonely pride, 
 And yours the soul that tyrants cannot 
 
 bind.
 
 WORLD-WEARY. 
 
 SHE had murmured adieu to laughter, 
 
 She had waved to mirth on the wing, 
 And youth with a sigh went after 
 
 The innocent hours of spring. 
 May vanished, and, crimson-hearted, 
 
 Rose June upon dream-flushed skies : 
 Love shattered the clouds, and parted 
 
 The mist from her maiden eyes. 
 
 Through summer he spake and thrilled 
 her, 
 
 And many a passion seared 
 Ere the kisses of autumn chilled her 
 
 And blighted the hopes once reared. 
 Love's damascene rose now faded, 
 
 Yet languishes undesired, 
 Where her beautiful soul beams jaded, 
 
 Through eyes world-weary and tired.
 
 NO HEART BUT THINE. 
 
 HE has no heart but thine wherein to rest ; 
 He brings no gems to consecrate that shrine; 
 But, of whatever in him is divine 
 Take thou the best. 
 
 Men only know him as he seems ; yet thou 
 Shalt hear faint prophecies of fame, and mark 
 The feet of sunrise moving through the dark. 
 Oh ! come, sweet pilot of a lonely bark, 
 Not then, but now. 
 
 103
 
 SONG WITHOUT ECHO. 
 
 [FROM THE POLISH OF MARIE KONOPNICKA.1 
 
 HEIGHO ! shades are creeping : 
 
 Heigho ! storms are sweeping : 
 
 Heigho, shadows quiver 
 
 Hiding all your path from view, dear : 
 
 Heigho ! runs the river, 
 
 Carried by the tempest flying : 
 
 Heigho ! my heart goes crying, 
 
 Down the track that leads to you, dear. 
 
 As the sun sweeps mountain-passes, 
 Over meres and meadow-grasses, 
 So my fate was fain to follow 
 With the sun-rejoicing swallow. 
 Ah, my fate ! whom storms have parted, 
 Cradled in the forest bosom 
 Flowerlike fate, you do not blossom 
 Where spring dallies, April-hearted.
 
 SONG WITHOUT ECHO. 105 
 
 You have left the woodlands lonely, 
 Left a starless sky above me, 
 Given griefs caresses only, 
 Only sorrow's lips to love me. 
 Not for me the warm delights 
 Smiling from dear lanes and valleys ; 
 But o'er a stranger's roof o' nights 
 A song without an echo sallies. 
 Oh ! not for me that homestead fair 
 Gleams among dim vistas lying ; 
 But o'er a stranger's roof Despair 
 Wails a dirge for ever dying.
 
 SHOULD THEY ASK. 
 
 SHOULD they ask you : " Where is he 
 Of the simple, foolish mind, 
 And the harp that sang of summer when no 
 
 leaf was on the tree ? " 
 Will you say he's gone in chase 
 Of a far-off phantom face, 
 Of a quarry that eludes him, and a love he 
 cannot find. 
 
 Should they ask you for the wight, 
 Whom your wise ones held in scorn : 
 Will you say he's gone a-gliding down the 
 
 dark stream of the night, 
 Seeking ever what is lost, 
 With his wild heart tempest-tost, 
 Through a sea of starless horror to a shadow- 
 land forlorn. 
 
 106
 
 SLEEPER AND SENTINEL. 
 
 THE wind sings loud 
 
 O'er the snow-white shroud 
 
 That covers her breast, 
 
 Who lies caressed 
 By the hand of sleep in the lap of rest. 
 
 But he gives no heed 
 
 If the storm recede, 
 
 Or snows and sleet 
 
 On his eyelids beat, 
 Who watches white as a winding-sheet ; 
 
 For he stands alone, 
 
 Unloved, unknown, 
 
 O'er the grave of a heart that was once 
 his own.
 
 LOVE'S WITNESS. 
 
 I CREEP to the window softly 
 
 This joyous night in June, 
 But the strings of my heart's wild harping 
 
 Are frayed and out of tune. 
 Night's mild-eyed mystical Goddess 
 
 Steals over the silver grass, 
 And down by the dim laburnums 
 
 Two happy lovers pass. 
 
 Ah ! little they know who watches 
 
 The path where shadow lies, 
 A sneer on his shapeless features, 
 
 And hate in his hollow eyes. 
 Though the summer night is golden, 
 
 There's a form the doomed ones miss 
 Grim Death by the willows waiting 
 
 To sever the lips that kiss. 
 
 108
 
 LOVE'S WITNESS. 109 
 
 But Peace upon calm creation 
 
 Sits brooding as a dove, 
 And the mother-heart is throbbing 
 
 In unison with love. 
 Yet I, being many-sided, 
 
 Shall lone and loveless be, 
 Till the wan moon wanes for ever, 
 
 And the stars are drowned at sea.
 
 VITA BREVIS. 
 
 [FROM THE FRENCH OF DE MUSSET.] 
 
 So fleet is life: 
 A little scope 
 For heart and hope, 
 A little strife, 
 
 And then : Good-day ! 
 
 A few bright gleams 
 Of pleasure brief, 
 A passing grief, 
 Some broken dreams 
 Good-night ! Away !
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 TO GEORGE BARLOW. 
 
 I CARE not a straw for approval 
 (Fame's trumpet too often is tin) 
 
 Of the cliques and the critics, since you've all 
 The praise I would perish to win. 
 
 Dame Fortune, sweet wanton, is fickle ; 
 
 Yet though she caressingly smile 
 On some desperate effort to tickle 
 
 The popular palate by guile, 
 
 Oh ! believe 'tis not for the favour 
 Of those who can make me or damn 
 
 That my songs of the fields have a savour, 
 And my lyre breathes a hatred of sham. 
 
 Oh ! believe me, 'tis not for the dollars, 
 Nor yet for the pleasures they bring, 
 
 That the meanest of Poesy's scholars 
 Would follow her fugitive wing.
 
 ii2 L'ENVOI. 
 
 For the joys of the forest are sweeter : 
 New treasures will gladden his eyes 
 
 Who has worshipped his Mother Demeter 
 Where among the green meadows she lies. 
 
 Tis the privilege born of pursuing 
 Truth's beacon that lures him along ; 
 
 'Tis the right of love's passionate wooing 
 To lighten the heart with a song. 
 
 Let the Pharisee snivel, and squander 
 His choicest abuse on my name,. 
 
 Or the Philistine fearfully ponder 
 On one who is heedless of shame. 
 
 But in meanness and malice they revel : 
 Their opinion is nothing to me ; 
 
 So the bourgeois may go to the devil, 
 Like the Gadarene swine to the sea. 
 
 Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
 
 press pinions 
 
 UPON 
 
 POEMS BY "PAGANUS." 
 
 "We are fain to stop and stay awhile at the 
 rhymes of ' Paganus,' the poems as usual command- 
 ing special attention." Glasgow Echo. 
 
 " The poetical contributions, of which there are 
 several, are all of high merit. A true ring marks 
 the contributions of ' Paganus.' " Belfast Weekly 
 Telegraph. 
 
 " The verse is of a high order of merit." Perth- 
 shire Advertiser. 
 
 " A very pretty set of verses by ' Paganus.' " Pall 
 Mall Gazette. 
 
 "The satirical verse is good." Cambrian. 
 
 "The poetry, too, is far and away beyond the 
 average." Book and News Trade Gazette. 
 
 "Some very charming poems." Weekly Irish 
 Times. 
 
 "The 'Sex Militant' is very good indeed." 
 Lady's Pictorial. 
 
 " Verse of good quality." Liverpool Daily Post. 
 
 "'Paganus,' too, can write poetry." North 
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 Etc., Etc., Etc.
 
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 "A. B.C." CABLE CODE. 1 1 Limited. 
 
 A SELECTION FROM THE 
 
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 TOGETHER WITH SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF THE 
 AUTHORS' PREVIOUS OR PRESENT WORKS. 
 
 ISSUED BY 
 
 THE ROXBURGHE PRESS, 
 
 CONDUCTED BY 
 
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 Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, etc. 
 
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 where all Communications should be Addressed. 
 
 RETAIL AT 
 
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 Trade Agents : 
 
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 the interests of Authors and their works. 
 
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 AGENCIES IN 
 
 THE UNITED STATES, CANADA, AFRICA, AUSTRALIA, 
 INDIA, AND THE CONTINENT
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS 3 
 
 LIST OF AUTHORS, ARTISTS, ETC. . . 5 
 SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL. TRAVEL, REMINIS- 
 CENCE, FICTION 7 
 
 DlCKENSIANA 15 
 
 VERSK AND SONG 19 
 
 MEDICINE, NURSING, AND ALLIED SUBJECTS 23 
 OCCULT, FOLK LORE, ETC., ETC. . . .27 
 WORKS BY MR. CHARLES F. RIDEAL ISSUED 
 THROUGH OTHER PUBLISHERS . . .31
 
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 Accidents . 25 
 
 Across the Atlantic 9 
 
 Bibliography of Guns and Shooting, A ... 9 
 
 Childhood. A Magazine for Every Mother . . 25 
 Chiromancy, Chirognomy, Palmistry . , .29 
 
 Comprehensive Dictionary of Palmistry, A . . 30 
 
 Crucifixion of Man, The 22 
 
 Crushes and Crowds in Theatres and other Buildings 12 
 Dickens, Charles, Heroines and Women Folk : 
 Some thoughts concerning them . . . .18 
 
 Digest of Literature, A 34 
 
 Divine Problem of Man, The, " is a Living Soul." 
 Being an explanation of what it is . . .12 
 
 Dry Toast 13 
 
 Evolution, a Retrospect 9 
 
 Fever Nursing ,^+ 
 
 From Dawn to Sunset -a 
 
 Glossary and Polyglot Dictionary of Technical 
 Words and Idioms used in the Firearms In- 
 dustry, etc., A 10 
 
 Good Luck ; or, Omens and Superstitions . . 29 
 
 Hands of Celebrities ; or, Studies in Palmistry . 30 
 Homer's Wine and other Poems . . . .31 
 
 How to Prolong Life 25 
 
 Idea of a Patriot Party, The . . n 
 
 India in Nine Chapters xx 
 
 Law and Lawyers of Pickwick, The . . . . 18 
 
 Lectures to Nurses on Antiseptics in Surgery . 33 
 
 Lost Mother, A 22 
 
 Magistracy, The it 
 
 Mandrakes. Original Stories of Some Unregarded 
 
 Items ii 
 
 Manual of Practical Electro-Therapeutics, A . -33 
 
 Massage for Beginners 33 
 
 Medical Monthly, The Popular 25 
 
 Moles or Birthmarks, and their Signification to 
 
 Man and Woman 1
 
 INDEX OF SUBJECTS ( 
 
 PAGE 
 
 More People We Meet 33 
 
 Mountain Lake and Other Poems, The . . 21 
 
 Norris's Nursing Notes 33 
 
 Nurse, The 25 
 
 Nursing Old Age -25 
 
 Nursing Record and Hospital IVorld, Tiic . . 33 
 Pageant of Life, The : An Epic Poem . . .21 
 Palmist and Chirological Review, The . . .29 
 
 People We Meet 13 
 
 Phantasms. Original Stories illustrating Pos- 
 thumous Personality 30 
 
 Pictures from a Bloomsbury Boarding-House . 13 
 Poems of Paganism ; or, Songs of Life and Love . 21 
 
 Points for Probationers 34 
 
 Practical Nursing Series, The .... 25 
 
 Precious Stones and Gems 29 
 
 Pyjama Purists, and Virtue made Easy . . .13 
 Record " Booklet " Series, The . . . .34 
 Reminiscences of a Septuagenarian Citizen, The . 9 
 Re-union of Christendom, The 9 
 Romance of the Fair, A, and other Short Stories . 13 
 Senate, The. A Review of Modern and Progres- 
 sive Thought .11 
 
 Shakespeare's Songs and Sonnets . . . .21 
 Sporting Periodicals and Pseudonyms . . xo 
 
 Stories from Scotland Yard .... 
 
 Sitnchildren's Budget, The u 
 
 " Told at the Club " n 
 
 True Detective Stories i?. 
 
 Wellerisms 17 
 
 Whom to Marry, A Book all about Love and Mar- 
 riage 20 
 
 Woman Regained : A Study ol Passion . 
 
 Women of the Time 34 
 
 Young Gentlemen of To-Day . .12 
 
 Young Ladies of To-Day . . .53 
 
 " Zenith " Memo-Pad, The ... . i
 
 LIST OF AUTHORS, ARTISTS, ETC. 
 
 PACI 
 
 Ackroyd, Laura G 21 
 
 Allen, Phoebe 12 
 
 Barlow, George 9, 21, 32 
 
 Bishop, Stanmore, F.R.C.b 33 
 
 Bodenstedt, Herr von 21 
 
 Callow, Edward 9 
 
 Cramner-Byng, H -13 
 
 Cranmer-Byng, L. . n, ij, 31 
 
 "Crow" 33 
 
 Cruikshank, George, J unr. 17 
 
 Evans, C. De Lacy 35 
 
 Fitch, Lucy 33 
 
 Fletcher- Vane, F > . . .11 
 
 Frappeur, L.E 4 . 39 
 
 Gerrare, Wirt g, 10, n, 30 
 
 Good, Margaret K. ... 35 
 
 Hake, A. Egmont n 
 
 Harries, Arthur, M.D 33 
 
 Harris, Mary 34 
 
 Hawliins, Lionel M 34 
 
 Howard, The Lady Constance 12 
 
 Hutton, Edward 21 
 
 Kent, Charles
 
 LIST OF AUTHORS, ARTISTS, ETC. 
 
 (continued}. 
 
 Landale, Miss E. J. K 
 
 Lawrence, H. Newman 
 
 Lockwood, Sir Frank, Q.C-. M.P 18 
 
 Lowe, G. M., M.D. . . .25 
 
 Naylor, Robert Anderion ... . . 9 
 
 Norris, Rachel 33 
 
 "Paganus" 21 
 
 1'anama, Viscountess de \z 
 
 Parkes, Harry 
 
 I'reston, Julia 21 
 
 Ravenhill, L. 
 
 Resuche, Rene 12 
 
 Richards, A. M. O n 
 
 Rideal, Charles !'. 11, i.-, 13, 17, 18, 21, 25, 29, 30, 33, 34 
 
 St. Hill, Katharine 
 
 Salisbury, Lord, K.Ci. 
 
 Sykes, Edith 25 
 
 Taylor, Langdou 29 
 
 Truman, Mary * . 25 
 
 Vaughan, Cardinal ........ y 
 
 Wesslau, O. E. . 
 Wheeler, Maud . 
 Winter, C. Gordon 
 
 Zangwill, Mark .
 
 SCIENTIFIC, 
 
 GENERAL 
 
 TRAVEL, 
 
 REMINISCENCE 
 
 FICTION.
 
 ACROSS THE ATLANTIC, By R. ANDERTON 
 NAYLOR, F.R.S.Lit., Author of "Nugse Canorae," 
 etc. Presentation Edition. 
 
 " Bright, interesting, beautifully produced." Th Institute. 
 
 WOMAN REGAINED. A Study oi Passion. A 
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 "There is much splendid versification in THU CRUCIFIXION OF 
 MAN." Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " The new volume is essentially the work of a poet ... his force It 
 Is impossible not to recognise." Literary U'crld. 
 
 " All will read it with sustained interest. Mr. Barlow is to be con 
 gratulated on his work." I'anity Fair. 
 
 " The most striking volume of poetry we have read for many a day 
 In the first rank of modern poetry. Let every student of life read 
 this work of genius. "S<vfs Magazine. 
 
 THE REMINISCENCES OF A SEPTUAGEN- 
 ARIAN CITIZEN. By EDWARD CALLOW. Large 
 paper edition, limited to 250 copies, specially bound, 
 numbered, and signed by Author. Illustrated, 215. 
 net. [In Preparation. 
 
 "The Phynodderee,' an interesting collection of Manx legends, 
 has been presented to the Queen and the I'rince of Wales, and gra- 
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 The stories have a genuine ring about them," Atlieiiirum. 
 
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 Use, and to the Composition and Manufacture of 
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