ruuUO i 
 
 L 
 
 12.57 
 
 th Double Pipe 
 
 Owen Seaman 
 
 ■'
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 

 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE.
 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE 
 
 BY 
 
 OWEN SEAMAN. 
 
 Modos fecit tibiis imparibus. — Tcr: Phovm: 
 
 Orfori? : CambticHic : 
 
 I: II BLACKWELL, ELIJAH JOHNSON, 
 
 liKOAD STREET. TRINITY STRE1 I. 
 
 XonDon : 
 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. 
 
 1888.
 
 JK&037 
 
 OXFORD : 
 
 PRINTED BY E. B. DOE 
 
 HIGH STREET.
 
 TO 
 
 MY SISTER ETHEL 
 
 FOR HER 
 
 COMING OF AGE 
 
 THESE 
 
 TWENTY-ONE SETS OF VERSE 
 
 AS FROM A PLAYER THAT PLAYETH UPON 
 
 A DOUBLE PIPE 
 
 NOW IN LIGHTER, NOW IN DEEPER ' MODE.' 
 
 May I7TH, 1888.
 
 My thanks are due to the Editors of the Cambridge 
 Review and Oxford Magazine for allowing me to 
 republish many of these verses. 
 
 I have made a few proper emendations. 
 
 0. S.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 TIBIA SINISTRA. 
 
 I 
 
 A Plea for Trigamy 
 
 Page 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 An Introduction to a Classical Theme 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 Maritandi te Salutant 
 
 9 
 
 4 
 
 An Elegy in Bucolics 
 
 15 
 
 5 
 
 Coming Out 
 
 17 
 
 C 
 
 A Dream of Unfair Women 
 
 21 
 
 7 
 
 The Ballad of Beauty's Worth 
 
 26 
 
 - 
 
 Memories of the late Classical Tripos . . 
 
 29 
 
 9 
 
 The Naenia of Nemesis 
 
 33 
 
 to 
 
 The Tyrolee at Home 
 
 • 36 
 
 
 TIBIA DEXTERA. 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 To Melissa 
 
 48 
 
 [2 
 
 Morning on Lake Constance .. 
 
 5i 
 
 13 
 
 Night on the Shore of Ammersee 
 
 53 
 
 H 
 
 '• Be she dark or fair " 
 
 5^ 
 
 15 
 
 Sea Moods 
 
 1 1 
 
 16 
 
 Conscius Consciae 
 
 (■C. 
 
 17 
 
 Death by Misadventure 
 
 . 
 
 1- 
 
 Sea Memories 
 
 Si 
 
 19 
 20 
 
 A Son '1 
 
 Th' ! • 1 " of the Parthenon 
 
 • 
 
 .'i 
 
 V. . 1 passt das musst sicb runden 
 
 •
 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I. 
 
 A Plea for Trigamy. 
 
 I've been trying to fashion a wifely ideal, 
 
 And find that my tastes are so far from concise 
 That, to marry completely, no fewer than three '11 
 Suffice. 
 
 I've subjected my views to severe atmospheric 
 Compression ; but still, in defiance of force, 
 They distinctly fall under three heads, like a cleric 
 Discourse. 
 
 My first must be fashion's own fancy-bred daughter, 
 
 1 mud, peerless, and perfect — in fact comme ilfaut : 
 
 A waltzcr and wit of the very first water — 
 
 For show. 
 
 b
 
 2 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 But these beauties that serve to make all the men 
 jealous, 
 Once face them alone in the family cot ! 
 Heaven's angels incarnate (the novelists tell us) 
 They're not. 
 
 But so much for appearances. Now for my second, 
 
 My lover, the wife of my home and my heart : 
 Of all fortune and fate of my life to be reckon'd 
 A part. 
 
 She must know all the needs of a rational being, 
 
 Be skilled to keep council, to comfort, to coax ; 
 And, above all things else, be accomplished at 
 seeing 
 
 My jokes. 
 
 I complete the menage by including one other 
 
 With all the domestic prestige of a hen : 
 As my housekeeper, nurse, or, it may be, a mother 
 Of men.
 
 A PLEA FOR TRIG AMY. 3 
 
 Total three ! and the virtues all well represented ; 
 
 With fewer than this such a thing can't be done ; 
 Though I've known married men who declare 
 they're contented 
 With one. 
 
 Would you hunt during harvest, or hay-make in 
 winter ? 
 And how can one woman expect to combine 
 Certain qualifications essentially inter- 
 necine ? 
 
 You may say that my prospects are (legally) sun- 
 less ; 
 I state that I find them as clear as can be: — 
 ill marry no wife, since I can't do with one less 
 Than three. 
 
 1. j
 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 II. 
 
 An Introduction to a Classical Theme, 
 
 FROM RECOLLECTIONS OP OVERTURES. 
 
 She had the angels' artless air, 
 
 As if, by a feathery fall, 
 Dropt from the spheres, and dancing there 
 
 At that " terrestrial ball." 
 
 Love (as a general rule) has eyes ; 
 
 Hers were of heaven's hue, 
 Moist as the blue of mirror'd skies 
 
 Seen in a sea of blue. 
 
 Love (I need hardly say) had hair, 
 
 Hair of her own, her own ; 
 Like harvest gold whereon the fair 
 
 Wind from the west has blown.
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ETC. 
 
 A very Siren's voice was hers, 
 Proof against wiles of wax ; 
 
 Or like some gentle chorister's 
 Before it fairly cracks. 
 
 And ah ! the nectar of her lips ! 
 
 Such sweets the butterfly, 
 Fit emblem of my frailty, sips, 
 
 Fain (if I'm right) to die. 
 
 And then her waist ! its witchery 
 
 Reminded one of Circe, 
 What time she made those ancients cry 
 
 (In Greek, of course) Gramercy ! 
 
 And ankles ! Fit for fairy elf 
 That recks not skirt or scandal ; 
 
 Two sizes less than Leda's self 
 Took when she tried a sandal. 

 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I quickly loved. Let laugh who will 
 
 And call the feelings false 
 That trace their rise to a quadrille, 
 
 Their issue to a valse. 
 
 There 's something rather fine about 
 
 The love that simply flings 
 Its noble self away without 
 
 Investigating things. 
 
 I always had a passion for 
 
 The sudden and the terse ; 
 To cry, " Be mine for better, or, 
 
 At any rate, for worse." 
 
 And so my prudence strained her tether ; 
 
 I turned with glowing glance, 
 To ask why should not we together 
 
 Join hands in real romance.
 
 AN INTRODUCTION ETC. 
 
 I could not breathe her name in hot 
 
 Rapt utterance, because 
 Unfortunately I had not 
 
 A notion what it was. 
 
 Perhaps I'm not the only one 
 To whom it has occurred 
 
 That introducing might be done 
 In tones that can be heard. 
 
 It makes me really rather sad 
 To think what waste of shame 
 
 I might have spared if I had had 
 The luck to catch her name. 
 
 I mentioned with my native grace 
 Love's seed that she had sown, 
 
 Apologizing for the pace 
 At which the thing had grown.
 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And then I touched on Cupid's arts, 
 
 Citing the general drift 
 Of precedent to prove his darts 
 
 Were surest when most swift. 
 
 At this conceit I cannot say 
 She looked the least confused, 
 
 But smiled in quite a candid way 
 And seemed, perhaps, amused. 
 
 Adding, " I think my carriage waits : 
 You'll see me to the door ? 
 
 So good of you ! My husband hates 
 To sit up after four."
 
 MARITANDI TE SALUTANT 
 
 III. 
 
 Maritandi tc Salutant. 
 
 Feb. 29th, 1888 (being Leap Year). 
 
 Ave! Annus* Bissextilis ! 
 
 Dying men, we cry thee grace ! 
 (Strange how well the Roman style is 
 
 Suited to the present case.) 
 
 Warriors we mutely muster 
 
 Doomed to fall before our time ; 
 
 While the sixth effulgent lustre 
 Finds us nicely in our prime. 
 
 • The Oxford Magazine of this date kindly inserted the following 
 apology.— " Dear Mi. BditOl <-..•>■■ die author), I send you some Leap 
 
 •,..,, lines. [ haven't dared to put the vocative of Amuu (i then one?) 
 
 in the first line, in case it should be read ;e. .1 iimnm.yllable."
 
 io WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 "Nitper" we were stamped "idoneus" 
 Fought the casual campaign, 
 
 Careful not to plant erroneous 
 Notions in a woman's brain. 
 
 Fairly have we braved the genus 
 
 Fcmininum heretofore ; 
 Tilted at the ring with Venus 
 
 In the lists of Afflys(-in-law) ; 
 
 When a man might take a survey 
 
 Calmly of his vis-a-vis ; 
 Now — " mavitum jam protervd 
 
 Fronte petet Lalagc." 
 
 This thy handiwork, O Leap Year ! 
 
 Thou that comest " once in four ; " 
 Creepy grows our flesh and creepier, 
 
 Like a bird's before a boa.
 
 MARITANDI TE SALUTANT. u 
 
 "L'homme propose" and those who choose '11 
 
 Place a veto on the plan ; 
 When " hs fcmmcs disposent" refusal 
 
 Lies beyond the power of man. 
 
 Troubadours must now " se ranger ; " 
 
 Lute and lyre and mandolin — 
 Tout cela nous avons change ; 
 
 And reversing's coming in. 
 
 Ave ! Prid. Kal. Mart. Bisscxtil. ! 
 
 Brave, but moribund, the breast 
 Swells beneath the fancy textib 
 
 Fabric of our winter vest ; 
 
 Never have we known alarm or 
 Taught our diaphragm to quail, 
 
 Fronting "foe in shining armour" 
 ( )r, it might be, coat of male ;
 
 12 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Now we own ourselves as helpless 
 As an underdone recruit ; 
 
 For we'd sooner meet a whelpless 
 Bear than face a female suit.
 
 AN ELEGY IN BUCOLICS. 15 
 
 IV. 
 
 Aii Elegy in Bucolics. 
 
 Ah me! that we might but forget the loss 
 
 Of all things dear, though thus we be condemned 
 
 To taste forgetfulness of that we loved ; 
 
 And yet, O memory of my lost joy, 
 
 Bring her again to me, so near, so near, 
 
 That in her presence I forget my loss, 
 
 And only know the ecstasy of love. 
 
 There, where at set of sun the evening gall 
 Comes faintlier laden with the breath of th) mi 
 And all sweet perfume of the golden hours,
 
 i 4 WITH DOUBLE TIPE. 
 
 Where is no sound to stir the sleep of noon, 
 
 Save bleatings of the fold or lowing kine, 
 
 Or murmured cooing of the love-charmed dove, — 
 
 She lived ! a sunlight in her lowly home ; 
 
 Lowly, not mean ; no meanness where she moved. 
 
 Her sire, — gruff-throated he and grim of mien, 
 
 Kind-natured, yet, and knowing well his place 
 
 i A tenant on the family estate), — 
 
 Would give me constant welcome when I came. 
 
 The mother too, among her stripling brood, 
 
 A portly soul withal and something stout, 
 
 Was hearty in her welcome when I came. 
 
 How would they mark the footfall that they 
 
 knew! 
 How flock to meet me at the wicket-gate ! 
 And she — but how shall human language paint 
 One that above all human thought was high, 
 Being not human, but of other mould ? — 
 She drew me, and I followed at her call. 
 And when I spake full proud to her I loved —
 
 AN ELEGY IN BUCOLICS. 15 
 
 " Sweet, I shall get me fame of thee anon, 
 For thou art passing fair and thou art mine, 
 None other's," she for modesty was dumb, 
 And hearing would not seem to hear my praise. 
 But on a day it chanced that there was named 
 A concourse to the which all men should bring 
 Her whom each eye saw fairest, and I smiled 
 To think how she, my choice, should bear the 
 
 palm 
 Of beauty, and shine fairest of the fair. 
 And fond I lavished on her gifts untold, 
 Thinking by added charms of art to grace 
 The comeliness which nature made her own ; 
 And all men deemed her fairest of the fair. 
 But better loved she in her lowly home 
 All unadorned to fill her lowly place, 
 And wait my wonted footstep morn and eve, 
 Than, widi oing as to suit a wider sphere, 
 To shape herself to grander things, and sit 
 A spectacle for every criti< 's eye.
 
 16 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And pining for the peace which once was hers, 
 Slow sickening she passed before her time. 
 
 And so I hold it better, come what may, 
 To win no prize at all at cattle-shows, 
 Than lose, through simply overfeeding her, 
 Your favourite sow, a prey to apoplexy.
 
 COMING OUT. 1 7 
 
 V. 
 
 Coming Out. 
 
 Just a week more of waiting, a week and a day, 
 
 And the night of delight will be here; 
 So ply me your very best pinions, I pray, 
 Wednesday, dear ! 
 
 We've considered the question, and find that I must 
 
 Have arrived (beyond rational doubt) 
 " Unto years of discretion," and that's why I'm just 
 Coming out. 
 
 ■ we're giving a dance, to establish the fact 
 That I'm one with the World and his Wife ; 
 And may join, if I choose, in the popular game 
 Known as Life. 
 
 C
 
 1 8 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Yes, we're giving a dance — on an excellent floor — 
 
 To announce that I've come on the scene, 
 And that men for the future must say nothing 
 more 
 
 Than they mean. 
 
 And the dress I'm to wear is a wonder of white, 
 
 Suggesting a fugitive dove ; 
 And, I'm happy to say, it embraces me quite 
 Like a glove. 
 
 And the household will come and inspect my 
 array, 
 While I try to look careless and bland, 
 Like a hair-dresser's doll pirouetting away 
 On a stand. 
 
 And I fancy a bouquet in quite the best style 
 
 From a gallant anonymous swain, 
 Whose ingenuous blushes will render his guile 
 Very vain.
 
 COMING OUT. 19 
 
 And I dream of the partners that jump and that jig, 
 
 And the couples that charge and chase ; 
 And the men who convey you about like a big 
 Double-bass. 
 
 And the fun is to last from a fit time for bed, 
 
 All the lovely night through up to five ; 
 
 Till the danc'd and the dancers are rather more 
 
 dead 
 
 Than alive. 
 
 Then follows discussion, when every one goes, 
 
 Of the dresses and who wore what ; 
 
 Of the men who were perfect to dance with, and 
 
 those 
 
 Who were not. 
 
 And at last and alone I shall probably scan 
 
 My programme and gravely reflect 
 That I've danced with one partner more frequent- 
 ly than 
 
 Was correct. 
 
 c 2
 
 zo WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And the whole to conclude about noon the next 
 day 
 With a stiffness and something of pique, 
 To think that one cannot come out in this way 
 Once a week. 
 
 And the moral? — oh, bubbles will burst at a touch, 
 
 And I shan't be a child any more ; 
 Only sadder and wiser by ever so much 
 Than before.
 
 A DREAM OF UNFAIR WOMEN. 21 
 
 VI. 
 
 A Dream of Unfair Women. 
 
 I am a poet of the later birth, 
 
 The limit of whose passions none may tell : 
 My verse indeed embraces heaven and earth, 
 
 And — er — well — 
 The more infernal neighbourhood of Hades, 
 
 A spot to epic poets of much use 
 For introducing gentlemen and ladies 
 On the loose. 
 
 When looking for a "local habitation," 
 
 Alike for every class commodious, 
 1 always chose for general situation 
 Erebus ;
 
 22 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 My usual route is bj' lack-lustre caves ; 
 If possible, I dream tbat I have gone 
 By limpid-lapsing lymph and wild wan waves ; 
 (Note the "wan"). 
 
 Thus in my dreams I passed the Avernian lake ; 
 
 (Pure fiction in the interests of rhyme : 
 Indeed my hammock held me wide awake 
 
 All the time); 
 But (lies again !) as o'er the Stygian " grind " 
 I cross'd, there chanced upon my eyes to 
 strike 
 A female form, distinctly, to my mind, 
 Vulture-like. 
 
 Shrouding her shrunken shoulder-blades, she 
 wore 
 A shawl that seemed to shelve a shady lot 
 Of victuals, part her own, and vastly more 
 That were not.
 
 A DREAM OF UNFAIR WOMEN. 23 
 
 This with her other weird and wily ways 
 
 Sent the thought throbbing through my thump* 
 ing head — 
 11 It is that Person who in college days 
 Made my bed." 
 
 A groan there came from vitals hunger-gnaw'd ; 
 
 (Ever a fiend snatch'd the food from her lip) 
 "You're very right," the groan said, "my liege 
 lord 
 
 Was a gyp ; 
 This woman here whose duty it was erst to 
 Assist in knocking tea-cups off the shelf, 
 Once was my ' help,' but now, you see, prefers to 
 Help herself. 
 
 " I mind me of a time, sir, when I glanc'd 
 
 Into a book of yours that lay about 
 Called 'Tantalus' or something, (it so chanc'd 
 You were out,)
 
 24 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I don't know much about the Latin Tripos, 
 
 But yet it seems to me a trifle queer 
 How like that gent's position was to my pos- 
 ition here." 
 
 She spoke. Meseem'd that half-a-crown were 
 proper 
 To shew my pity for a fallen foe ; 
 Economy however bade me drop a 
 
 Tear and go. 
 Then as I mused on sleep and dreams that follow, 
 " Ay," saying with the playwright, "there's the 
 rub ! " 
 1 passed to where one seemed to wash and wallow 
 In a tub 
 
 That here my ancient laundress stood confess'd, 
 
 It needed no diviner's art to shew, 
 For she was emblematically dress'd 
 As below : —
 
 A DREAM OF UNFAIR WOMEN. 25 
 
 Odd socks on feet, a shirt less wash'd than 
 "bil'd," 
 A kerchief utterly devoid of hem, 
 With collar crumply-mangled such as styl'd 
 G.O.M. 
 
 Her scantiness of costume was a s)oribol 
 
 Of those felonious laundresses who glean 
 Whole bags of soil'd clothes and return a thimble- 
 ful of clean. 
 Thereat I drew the line and forth I fared to 
 
 The ferry (last boat leaves at half-past six), 
 For night drew on and I was not prepared to 
 Swim the Styx.
 
 26 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Ballad of Beauty's Worth. 
 
 (" Your Soft Soap is the best ; it pays." — Advt.) 
 
 She braided hair of hazel brown, 
 
 Fit aureole for an angel's face ; 
 Glamour of spring-tide glancing down 
 
 Lent golden glory to her grace : 
 She braided all her glowing hair, 
 
 And dallied with each truant tress ; 
 She was exceptionally fair, 
 
 Was Dahlia Dandie-Lyonnesse. 
 
 Dahlia Dandie-Lyonnesse ! 
 
 A stranger really might suppose
 
 THE BALLAD OF BEAUTY'S WORTH. 27 
 
 The sound had in it high noblesse — 
 Mais non ! it was a name she chose 
 
 When first in beauty's blush she faced 
 The footlights of old London town, 
 
 And could not but condemn the taste 
 Which christen'd her Eliza Brown. 
 
 And ah ! the wonder of her smile ! 
 
 And if, as critics would declare, 
 She wanted histrionic style, 
 
 What would you, with such hazel hair? 
 So said the stalled swains that came 
 
 (Her part embraced a line or less) 
 And lisped with longing lips the name 
 
 Of Dahlia Dandie-Lyonesse. 
 
 The theme became a mystic spell, 
 The talk and toast of half the town ; 
 
 (I doubt C.ophftun could well 
 
 Have sworn by plain Eliza Brown).
 
 28 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 A royal road is open now, 
 
 Nothing succeeds like new success ; 
 Bow ! advertising classes, bow ! 
 
 To Dahlia Dandie-Lyonesse. 
 
 They bow. Among her toilet scents 
 
 A cheque for something useful lay, 
 Presented with the compliments 
 
 Of Messrs. X. ( Perruquiers ) ; 
 So proud that she is pleased to state, 
 
 " I've tried all others and confess 
 Your hair-dye is supremely great," — 
 
 Signed " Dahlia Dandie-Lyonesse." 
 
 The Envoy. 
 
 They tell me beauty is a curse : 
 Novels and nonsense ! who denies 
 
 It swells perceptibly the purse, 
 If dignity but drop her eyes ?
 
 MEMORIES ETC. 29 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Memories of the late Classical Tripos. 
 
 Now, if one thing on earth's calculated to wipe us 
 
 Well out of the regions illumed by the sun, 
 I should say that that thing was the Classical 
 Tripos, 
 
 Part I. 
 
 For the pieces they set with such dissolute free- 
 dom 
 Are chosen for being corrupt to the core, 
 Though you wish you had had the good fortune to 
 read 'em 
 
 Before.
 
 30 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 For if ever you chance to have studied an author 
 
 In hope of a full recognition, — your scheme 
 Will abortively vanish like gingerbeer froth or 
 Ice cream. 
 
 You may put all your purse on Theocritus, sure he 
 And Pindar will win from the Tragics with ease, 
 And the order is — Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euri- 
 pides. 
 
 And that rare Theophrastus will furnish a stiff- 
 knot 
 (I do not allude to the eminent Such), 
 And though only a fragment prove quite enough, 
 if not 
 
 Too much. 
 
 Then you probably know all about Alexander, 
 
 The things that he did or was likely to do ; 
 You can give all his wives and his victories, and a 
 Map too.
 
 MEMORIES ETC. 31 
 
 But, instead, they will ask you about the unholy 
 
 Career of Timoleon— useless, because 
 You have not the remotest idea who Timole- 
 on was. 
 
 So you sit, feebly watching a swallow's light shape as 
 
 It enters, eluding the bull-dog on guard, 
 But withdraws, when it finds, on inspection, the 
 papers 
 
 Too hard. 
 
 And that monarch in marble looks leeringly at you, 
 
 Adopting the gladiatorial mien, 
 And you think it is quite the most imbecile statue 
 You've seen. 
 
 And in case from the heat you should melt like a 
 chemic- 
 al, gowns are let slip, till some officers fume, 
 And request you to keep to the strict academic 
 Costume.
 
 32 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 What with obdurate forms and the scratching of 
 shifty 
 Quill pens and the Senate House hot as a hive, 
 It's a wonder as many as ten out of fifty 
 Survive. 
 
 And in fact the whole treatment is just of the sort 
 you're 
 Accustomed to plan for your bitterest foe ; 
 And I never again will submit to such torture 
 / know. 
 
 Clare, 1883.
 
 THE N A EN I A OF NEMESIS. 33 
 
 IX. 
 The Naenia of Nemesis. 
 
 (FROM " OEDIPUS THE WRECK. ") 
 
 Great is the wisdom of Nemesis, Nemesis ! 
 All the wide heaven and earth is her premises ; 
 'jive her a scent, and she's off on the trail. 
 Adorning a moral and pointing her tail. 
 Altero pede she suffers from lameness, 
 But local defects only add to her gameness ; 
 Nay, when it comes to a question of distan< « , 
 Vain is the criminal's dogged resistance ; 
 Vainly they offer each ample invective, 
 She's the ideal Olympic detective. 
 For fleet is Apollo, 
 And Artemis fleet ; 
 
 D
 
 34 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And to see how they follow 
 The hounds is a treat, 
 But when they are beaten and blowing for breath 
 She's in with a rush at the death, at the death. 
 
 Great is the wisdom of Nemesis, Nemesis, 
 All the wide heaven and earth is her premises; 
 Let her but catch any mortal presumin' 
 To shew any want of respect for her numen. 
 
 Why one of her nods — 
 
 You may ask all the gods — 
 Is worth, they admit, forty winks, forty winks, 
 Of a heterogeneous fowl like the Sphinx. 
 
 For jealous is Hera, 
 The " cow-eyed " is keen ; 
 
 And mouldy Madeira 
 Is spice to her spleen ; 
 But let the great Nemesis fix on her prey, 
 Any other engagement is bound to give way !
 
 THE N A EN I A OF NEMESIS. 35 
 
 The crash of a crisis, 
 The fate of a king, 
 
 The falling of prices, — 
 In fact anything, — 
 Will agree in politely assisting to tend 
 As a means to this ultimate finis or end. 
 Meanwhile, till the hour of fatality strikes, 
 " Elect " can behave pretty much as he likes ; 
 May gibe at the gibbet, and jest at the block, 
 For Destiny's darling is safe as a rock. 
 
 Great is the wisdom of Nemesis, Nemesis ! 
 All the wide heaven and earth is her premises; 
 Give her a scent and she's off on the trail, 
 Adorning a moral and pointing her tail ; 
 And when all the field is a-blowing for breath, 
 She's in with a rush at the (hath, at the death. 
 
 D I
 
 3 6 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 X. 
 
 The Tyrolee at Home. 
 
 HE. 
 
 Who is this that I see, 
 
 Wielding half a young tree, 
 
 With some six inches bare round the fat of his 
 
 knee ? 
 
 Though as touching this matter of inches, I'm free 
 
 To submit to the charge of inaccuracy ; 
 
 Yet a heathen Parsee 
 
 i 
 
 Were less liar than he, 
 Who, if made referee, 
 Chose to contradict me, 
 That whatever is bare is as bare as can be. 
 
 Now regarding his hat 
 (For I'll touch upon that),
 
 THE TYROLEE AT HOME. 37 
 
 It is such as a critic might well wonder at ; 
 
 For conceive every bird 
 
 About which you have heard 
 As possessing a plumage intensely absurd ; 
 
 And, enfin (in a word), 
 
 To one hat be transferr'd 
 A selection from all the incongruous herd. 
 
 Let that hat be a base 
 
 Flower-pot type of the grace- 
 ful concerns which the head of our clergy encase ; 
 
 Under this any face, 
 
 Quite apart from grimace, 
 Would induce the beholder to spring into space. 
 
 Of his waistcoat to tell 
 
 At full length would compel 
 The employment of epithets / could not spell ; 
 
 It is made of the shell, 
 
 Or, as one may say, " jx 11 " 
 (A distinctly good classical ti 1 m fol the fell)
 
 38 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Of the giddy gazelle, 
 Sent unshriven to hell 
 From the mountains of Zell, 
 Or some similar spot which would rhyme just as well. 
 
 And the rings on his hand 
 
 Are both obvious, and 
 As to number would freely compare with the sand : 
 
 They are also as grand 
 
 As, I fancy, a bland 
 Son of Dan or Manasseh were proud to command : 
 
 And the same would seem plann'd 
 
 Of a size like the band 
 Round the ankles of niggers on Africa's strand. 
 
 And a mighty eyesore 
 
 Which I deeply deplore 
 Is the pitiful manner in which he will store 
 
 Twenty ounces or more 
 
 Of these " articles d'or " 
 On a really unusual finger — the fore.
 
 THE TYROLEE AT HOME. 39 
 
 And if married, he throws 
 
 Out a hint of his woes 
 By supporting a ring, such as custom bestows 
 On a bride (fitly blushing as red as a rose) ; 
 
 And perhaps (but who knows ?) 
 
 He has bells on his toes, 
 As the tale of a lady of Banbury goes. 
 
 But regarding his hose, 
 
 I refuse to compose 
 On a subject so far more adapted to prose. 
 
 And his breeks (so to say) 
 
 Are of leather array, 
 And a shortness to grieve an enlightened Malay : 
 
 And as black as a Bey, 
 
 Or my hat, ere the day 
 Of its all-to-be-too-much-regretted decay. 
 
 And his hoots are a size 
 Which I should not surmise
 
 40 11777/ DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 That the wildest chiropodist dared to advise, 
 
 And the first to be cast 
 
 On the national last, 
 Was, I venture to fancy without any doubt, 
 Incontestably built for some man with the gout. 
 
 Now his pipe and its bowl 
 
 (No offence to King Cole) 
 Would astonish the eyes of an average mole : 
 
 For it boasts of a scroll 
 
 Inexpressibly droll, 
 
 And it takes on the whole, 
 
 Some half-pound for its dole 
 Of tobacco as coarse as the jests of Creole : 
 
 Only fit 
 
 To be lit, 
 
 As I pledge my parole, 
 By live embers of very best anthracite coal ; 
 And its stem, I may add, is beyond all control, 
 Being strictly the length of a rod, perch, or pole.
 
 THE TYROLEE AT HOME. 41 
 
 On his shoulders he wears 
 
 Certain murderous snares, 
 Such as guns, for the total extinction of hares. 
 
 Or (for aught I know) bears ; 
 
 All which gives a man airs 
 
 If, as likely, he cares 
 To appear in costume at the annual fairs : 
 
 Though I beg to demur 
 
 That I cannot aver 
 
 Whether such things occur 
 In the actual region to which I refer. 
 
 I must mention in haste 
 
 That his girth is embra< i 1 
 By a belt, on a i sthetical principles bast I, 
 
 Where, in very best taste, 
 
 Certain mottoes are chased, 
 Such as "God and my country," or "Want fol 
 lows wasp
 
 42 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Who is this that I see 
 
 Wielding half a young tree 
 With some six inches bare round the fat of his knee ? 
 
 It is he ! 
 
 It is he! 
 
 'Tis the wild, 'tis the free, 
 
 'Tis the — who could it be, 
 But the real and original male Tyrolee ? 
 
 SHE. 
 
 Who is this that I see 
 
 With a waist that might be 
 
 A good facsimile 
 Of the trunk of a cedar-in-Lebanon tree? 
 
 And a face (you'll agree) 
 
 Quite as brown as a bee 
 Buzzing home in a transport of garrulous glee ; 
 
 Or the colour of tea 
 
 As consumed over sea 
 By the well known and deeply suspected Chinee ?
 
 THE TYROLEE AT HOME. 43 
 
 Now her hat has a brim 
 
 Which I'd venture to hymn, 
 Though compared with the vision word-painting 
 is dim ; 
 
 But I safely may state 
 
 If you walked at the rate 
 
 Of at least six or eight 
 Miles an hour all day long very early and late, 
 
 At some subsequent date 
 
 You'd be able to prate 
 Von had made round that hat unc toumee tout cow pllt < ; 
 
 Though I'm perfectly sure 
 
 An expression more pure 
 Might be found in the range of French literature. 
 
 But the brim of this hat 
 
 (To recur) is as flat 
 As the Btate of a quite impen eptible gnat, 
 Upon which an emu has incessantly sat ;
 
 4 4 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And the summit is crown'd 
 By a species of mound 
 Which, with strangers, is strikingly apt to astound. 
 
 Now as touching her rings, 
 
 To my tongue I put strings 
 And refer to my former remarks on these things ; 
 
 For the bard (who has wings) 
 
 Flees, as if it had stings, 
 From the mention of that which satiety brings ; 
 
 So at least Pindar sings, 
 
 And the platitude springs 
 Pretty plainly from critical "arrows and slings." 
 
 But distinct is the way 
 
 She contrives a display 
 1 \y the wearing of gloves like a half-hooded shay ; 
 
 Though no doubt she would say 
 
 This was meant to allay 
 The oppressive effect of the heat of the day.
 
 THE TYRO LEE AT HOME. 45 
 
 " Circa pectus " one sees, 
 
 Besides " robur et aes," 
 (To adopt a remark of the gay Apulese), 
 
 Or, in sensible phrase, 
 
 Besides, possibly, stays 
 < J'er the bust a mere neglige kerchief she lays. 
 
 And no doubt this idea 
 
 May arise from the fear 
 ( )f encountering heat too intensely severe, 
 
 Or it may be to cheer 
 Any eye discontent with the scenery here ; 
 
 And this cause is more near 
 
 To the truth, as is char ; 
 : excuses of weather arc palpably queer, 
 
 Seeing heat 
 
 She would meet, 
 
 Should it ever appear, 
 
 I a < opious foi titi< ;ition of In
 
 46 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And her skirt's far from lean, 
 
 Like an utter French bean, 
 But suffusely spread over the pastoral scene ; 
 
 Though the cunning, I ween, 
 
 Of the false crinoline 
 Is unknown to the arts of our innocent quene. 
 
 But I fully confess 
 
 To the very great stress 
 That is put on my brain by its wish to express 
 
 A description of dress 
 
 Which, for marvellousness, 
 Far exceeds the costume of immaculate Bess ; 
 And though doubtless you think I'll continue to 
 
 bless 
 You with more of this style, yet I nevertheless 
 Will conclude with the hope that you readily guess 
 
 Who this is that I see 
 
 With a waist that might be 
 
 A good facsimile
 
 THE TYROLEE AT HOME. 47 
 
 Of the trunk of a cedar-in-Lebanon tree — 
 
 It is she ! 
 
 It is she ! 
 
 Better half of the " he," 
 
 Or (more accurately) 
 Tis the sixty-per-cent. of the male Tyrolee. 
 
 Valley of the Inn, Tyrol.
 
 ,s 11777/ DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To Melissa. 
 
 Where shall we seek 
 
 A grace more Greek, 
 Bright with the wonder and worth, 
 
 That we fancied fled 
 
 With the days that are dead, 
 And the music and motion and mirth 
 
 Of the beauty that made 
 
 The gods afraid 
 When they walked the ways of earth ? 
 
 Fresh and fair, 
 To earth and air, 
 Borne the waves above,
 
 TO MELISSA. 4 g 
 
 She rose to her home 
 
 By the white sea-foam, 
 Queen of the white- winged dove ; 
 
 With such will I dare 
 
 To match the rare 
 Grace of the limbs I love. 
 
 Blithe and sweet, 
 
 With glancing feet, 
 Over the dews of dawn, 
 
 The Huntress Maid 
 
 Through gorge and glade 
 Drove the dappled fawn : 
 
 So sweet and blithe 
 
 Is her light and lithe 
 Form as she foots the lav. n. 
 
 Aphrodite ! 
 Magic mighty 
 Over the hearts of old !
 
 50 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Artemis ! 
 
 More chaste than is 
 The marble's chiselled cold ! 
 
 Thy warmth and charm, 
 
 And thy self-stay'd calm, 
 Together she doth mould. 
 
 (*
 
 MORNING ON LAKE CONSTANCE. 51 
 
 XII. 
 
 Morning on Lake Constance. 
 
 Darkxess, that deeper than the middle night 
 
 Steals ever in the van of coming day, 
 
 All in a mist of vapour hid the hills 
 
 And shadowed the dead stillness of the lake, 
 
 Stirred only by the dark ship's driving prow. 
 
 Far off the beacon peered through blurring gloom 
 ( )ut of the haven's distance ; so we passed 
 1 1 iwn the dividing deeps ; and silently 
 To westward in our wake the morning drew, 
 Till on the misty mountains veiled she stood, 
 And through the wat< rs ran a thrill of joy, 
 Tr< imiloiis, as of one that sees his hope. 
 
 I In! all ' 1 like glory <>l th< sun 
 
 Burst through to break the rallied rank:, oi night, 
 
 B 2
 
 52 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 To bid the hill-tops stand and shout for joy, 
 And all the valleys laugh for deep delight. 
 Only a twilight between gleam and gloom 
 Moved through the mist with never a magic touch ; 
 And only over longing lands the light 
 As of a smile that hath more chill than charm 
 Played from the passionless grey eyes of day. 
 
 So dawns a face of beauty on the life 
 Of him that out of night's great loneliness 
 Looks for love's day, and lo ! a phantom dawn. 
 All grace is there to draw the waiting eyes ; 
 But love ? — a mist is on the morning air : 
 Somewhere he doubts not that a golden sun 
 Shines even now upon some happier heart 
 And lights it to love's glamour : but — for him 
 It is the false flush of a dawn of dreams. 
 His day breaks, but the shadows only flee 
 That served to kindly shroud his solitude. 
 
 ROMANSHORN, CONSTANCE.
 
 NIGHT ON THE SHORE OF AMMERSEE. 53 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Night on the Shore of Ammersee. 
 
 The moonlight falls upon the silent lake 
 And on the white front of the village street, 
 Peering through lattice-work of beechcn boughs 
 Upon the bridge that spans the purling heck, 
 Where, leaning in night's solitude, I think 
 Thoughts that are inspirations of the scene. 
 All day the sun has scorched in such a sky 
 laughs upon glad champaigns of the south ; 
 No leaf stirred in the topmost pines: the air, 
 Giddj with heat, hung on the listless earth ; 
 The ripples sighed toward the shore and sank 
 I ,ike hop 1' I i ses upon lips atlurst. 
 Undi-r the glamour of the sultry heaven,
 
 54 1177// DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 vStrong for youth's pleasures have we pass'J the 
 
 day, 
 Now wending by fair tilths whose golden grain, 
 Content to touch the top of beauty, falls 
 Before the strong sweep of the circling scythe ; 
 Now by low-lying lands where rush and reed 
 Rise on the rich marge of a winding stream ; 
 Or, treading now the upland path that strives, 
 Beyond the shadows of the changeless pines, 
 Faced all the breadth of waters ; thence again 
 Threading the mellow cornlands and the glades 
 We touch the level borders of the mere ; 
 And westward lightly wafted in our barque, 
 That cuts with careless prow the emerald calm, 
 Gain the white village on the farther strand. 
 
 Till soon the sun has passed his utmost verge 
 And sets in golden glory ; all the land 
 Lies in the glow of evening, consciously 
 Awaiting fairer visions ; for the moon 
 Takes up her hero's dying heritage
 
 NIGHT ON THE SHORE OF AMMERSEE. 55 
 
 And pours a veil of light along the earth, 
 That rests in semblance of the sleep of death, 
 Save for the breath of noon, that lingers warm. 
 
 And so, full weary with the day's delights 
 Alone I wander to the lonely shore, 
 And on the bridge that spans the purling beck 
 Lean in night's solitude, and think my thoughts. 
 
 This way, the village street, in all the charm 
 Of artless beauty, fronts the risen moon ; 
 Beyond, the toiling mill-wheel takes its rest ; 
 This side, the pier stands out into the lake, 
 And, lightly moored, the dreamy shallop lies 
 Among closed lilies on the water's lap; 
 And here, and here, arched avenues of beech 
 Gleam with a spectral glamour through the night, 
 Where the moon glances on their silver stems; 
 And far away, more till than seen, the Alps 
 Stand with their burden of enduring snow, 
 
 Firm footstool of the throne of God, whose days 
 \i< aeons, and whose years eternity.
 
 56 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I think of him who once in middle night 
 Stood on the bridge that cross'd the moonlit flood 
 And gave the fancy of his thoughts to rhyme. 
 I know no poet's art to paint the scene, 
 Nor none to bid the silent canvas live ; 
 No noble river flows beneath my feet, 
 Washing a city's walls, and rolling down 
 With freight of gallant ships to the wide sea ; 
 A tiny rivulet that turns a mill 
 And flows from some unstoried glen, and sings 
 To such as me its happy monotone — 
 No more. But here are lessons to be learned. 
 Daily the mill-wheel turns, and every da}* 
 Some heart is happier for that simple song ; 
 And evermore the waiting lake receives 
 The offering ungrudged that never fails ; 
 And I, and such as I, we are not called 
 To do great things, or bear a nation's hope ; 
 We know the limits of our narrow course ; 
 But, be it great or small, a duty done
 
 NIGHT ON THE SHORE OF AMMERSEE. 57 
 
 Is the achievement of nobility. 
 
 The mill-wheel must be turned ; the thirst\- lake 
 
 Not fail for lack of meanest offering ; 
 
 And surely hearts of men must be made glad, 
 
 Though they be not the happiest that sing. 
 
 Go, little stream, thou hast my humble thanks : 
 
 ( jo, and make glad the hearts of men that toil : 
 
 Go, turn thy wheel and bear thee on thy way 
 
 To flood the open waters. It is well. 
 
 I know that, looking on this scene again, 
 When time has mellowed all my years, I then 
 Shall seem to see a friend's familiar face, 
 And, gazing into eyes that draw the soul 
 With < harm of influence, remember how 
 Long since I learn'd my lesson. Yet on< e m< re, 
 This once, I lean above the brook that breaks 
 The silver silence of the summer night ; 
 
 • more I catch the cadence of its son^ ; 
 So; -Iha\< learn'd my lesson. [ will go. 
 
 \ ■ • ■ ! VARIA,
 
 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "Be she dark or fairy 
 
 Love is a match for mortal minds ; 
 'Tis we that seek and he that finds. 
 
 I said, I will none but golden hair, 
 • Gold to frame a Saxon brow ; 
 Eyes like the blue of dawn, I said, 
 Needs must she have that I would wed ; 
 
 And yet — not such art thou, 
 Sweet other face, with the charm that seems 
 A waking wonder that passeth dreams, 
 Wherein I fashion'd of fancy's touch 
 All that I guessed of grace ; 
 Sweet other face, 
 Xot such art thou, not such.
 
 ••BE SHE DARK OR FAIR." 59 
 
 For dark is thy hair, and dark thine eyes, 
 
 Dark are thine eyes and deep ; 
 No magic mirror of summer skies 
 
 Down in their depths doth sleep. 
 Only I read in their hidden fire, 
 
 Known for the light of love's desire, 
 How by ways that I dreamed not of 
 I am found of Love. 
 
 'Tis vc that seek and he that finds, 
 
 For Love is a match for all mens minds.
 
 6o WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sea-Moods. 
 
 O might of Ocean, and ye waves that whirl 
 
 Incessant as the march of moving years, 
 
 Full often and in every mood of man 
 
 Have I held converse with the heart of thee, 
 
 And drawn a silent gladness as I gazed ; 
 
 Whether the voice of myriad-dimpled mirth 
 
 Broke in soft laughter on a sun-kissed shore, 
 
 Or to the storm the waters flung their foam 
 
 And in the furrow of the crested steeps 
 
 Stark bare the silted sand lay all between, 
 
 Or when the shoreward surge made piteous moan 
 
 Low hissing to the spent wind's dolorous sough. 
 
 And these are voices of the shifting seas, 
 Now low in sorrow and now loud in storm.
 
 SEA MOODS. 61 
 
 Or under happier skies and suns that smile, 
 Breathing sweet peace upon a careless brow, 
 The changing voices of a friend unchanged. 
 
 Yeast. 
 
 The surges seethe, the shore is lonely, 
 And lonely with a nameless need, 
 
 Unto the strong sea's sorrow only 
 My heart gives silent heed. 
 
 My heart that throbs and throbbing Ocean 
 Move in some strange harmony; 
 
 The dreary dirge, the measured motion 
 Make melody for me. 
 
 From out the gloom no gleam is breaking 
 On waters desolate as night ; 
 
 y dawn of hope 19 waking 
 M\ h< ai t to life and light.
 
 r»j WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I will not ask for love, nor borrow 
 A barren, soulless sympathy, 
 
 Only in silence speak my sorrow 
 Unto the silent sea. 
 
 Storm. 
 
 Dark as hell is the wild, waste heaven, 
 Blind with madness the wide, waste sea ; 
 
 And the foam-flakes lit by the flame-red levin 
 Flash as the white waves flee. 
 
 And the might of the blast of the deep-mouth'd 
 thunder, 
 Match'd with the might of the storm-wind's 
 breath, 
 Blends sound with the seas that clash and sunder 
 In music of discord and death.
 
 SEA MOODS. 63 
 
 But, O my heart, that in strong fate's despite 
 Yauntest revenge with an umvreak'd rage, 
 
 Dark with despair that knows no respite 
 From wars that the passions wage. 
 
 Not thus ever the wild storm's rattle 
 Rends the air with its hoarse high roar ; 
 
 Not thus ever the great waves' battle 
 Booms on the bare sea shore. 
 
 Night must wane, and the glad day's dawning 
 Still the air with a swift sweet charm ; 
 
 Hope must come in a cloudless morning, 
 Wafting a windless calm. 
 
 And lo ! as I looked, a faint far glory, 
 Stealing grey through the gloom of night, 
 
 Told in the liush of the winds its story 
 Of love that lives in the light.
 
 6 4 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Calm. 
 
 Soft is the slumber 
 
 That brooods on the sea, 
 And the silence of Ocean 
 
 Is peace unto me : 
 For the sigh of the western 
 
 Wind's breath only breaks 
 Soft-breathed as the whisper 
 
 Of love that awakes. 
 
 No cloud on the splendour 
 
 To chill with the glance 
 Of a passion that passes 
 
 With change and with chance ; 
 But sea and sky blending, 
 
 In infinite blue, 
 Are as faith that is fearless, 
 
 And troth that is true.
 
 SEA MOODS. 65 
 
 As I frame thee in fancy, 
 
 O heart of my choice ! 
 The calm is a vision, 
 
 The silence a voice ; 
 For warm as the sunlight, 
 
 And wide as the sea, 
 And strong as its stillness, 
 
 Is thy love for me.
 
 66 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Conscius Consciae. 
 
 Where shall I tell the tale of my loving ? 
 
 Low in the hush where hearts may beat, 
 Stirred by the passion and pulse of the music, 
 
 Thrilled by the throb of the dancer's feet ? 
 Or when the world and its ways are forgotten, 
 
 While in the gloom with the hearth aglow 
 We watch, and the hopes and fears of our fancy 
 
 Shift with the shadows that come and go ? 
 
 Where shall I tell the tale of my loving ? 
 
 As down we drop with the sliding stream, 
 And the plash of oars and the play of voices 
 
 Is faint and far as a dream in a dream ?
 
 CON SCI US CONSCIAE. 67 
 
 When her face looks full to the last of the sunset, 
 And gold is the light in the grey of her eyes, 
 
 And the peace that falls with the night is round 
 us, 
 And all the laughter of daylight dies ? 
 
 Nay, for I need no tale of my loving, 
 
 Nay, for the scene works not the spell, 
 He that doubts, let him ask assurance, 
 
 He that would win with words, let him tell ; 
 \Yc that have looked into eyes that answer, 
 
 Growing in love as our lives have grown, 
 Learning the secret of souls in silence, 
 
 Need we a token? We know, and are known. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 WITH DOUBLE PIPE 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Death by Misadventure. 
 
 Yes, sir, I'll stand as a witness, I know the truth 
 
 of the case 
 Of the lady that acts in the play, sir, her with the 
 
 painted face ! 
 The same that's charged with having a hand in 
 
 the stabbing scene, 
 And knowing what tales of an " accident done for 
 
 the purpose " mean. 
 
 Yes, and I've something to tell that I've sworn in 
 
 God's own name 
 1 would hide excepting to save the lady from open 
 
 shame ;
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 69 
 
 Never a soul has the secret, never a word has 
 
 been said, 
 I've kept it till now, and I break it now, for the 
 
 sake of the dead. 
 
 Ay ! of the dead ! I see her again ! the stage and 
 
 the lights and all ! 
 And the hush of the horrid scene comes over me 
 
 like a pall ; 
 And I hear the last slow words that come with her 
 
 hissing breath, 
 And the dagger is drawn and gleams, and her face 
 
 is as pale as death. 
 
 You know how the play goes, eh, sir ? how one 
 WOmail steals the heart 
 
 Of a man that another's mad for — her husband 
 played the part —
 
 70 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And how at the last she stabs herself, for she 
 hates her life, 
 
 And would loathe to live and see her rival a wed- 
 ded wife. 
 
 This was the last performance, they played their 
 best that night, 
 
 And she was as real as life, sir — needed no paint 
 to look white ; 
 
 And I flinched as I saw the flash, and the des- 
 perate lunge of the steel ; 
 
 And she fell to the ground face down, as if dead — 
 I'd have sworn it was real. 
 
 And all on a sudden the hush gave way with the 
 
 curtain's fall, 
 And they rose to a man from their places — box 
 
 and pit and stall ;
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 71 
 
 And thej' stood, and I stood with the rest of them, 
 cheering and yelling her name ; 
 
 But not a fold of the curtain stirred, and she never 
 came. 
 
 And nothing would quiet us down till the manager 
 stepped on the stage, 
 
 And his face in the footlights' flare was a horror 
 to haunt for an age ; 
 
 And he gasped out a word about asking our par- 
 dons, and how it appeared 
 
 An awful mistake had been made with the dag- 
 gers — fatal he feared. 
 
 .Mi, God ! How it flashed upon me ! Too real, too 
 real for a play ! 
 
 And before I knew where 1 was, I had madlj torn 
 
 11 iy way
 
 72 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Through the thick of the swells and people, who 
 
 stared in blank surprise, 
 As I cried, "Let me pass! She's my sister! I'll 
 
 see her before she dies ! " 
 
 Ay, sister ! You won't laugh, will you, sir ? if I 
 
 show some tears, 
 When I think of the happy home that was ours 
 
 in other years ; 
 When we played in the farm and field together, 
 
 child and child, 
 And she grew to a winsome wench, sir, as comely 
 
 as ever smiled. 
 
 Till a stranger came, as they will, sir, came with 
 
 his charm and grace, 
 A player he was, and he won her heart with his 
 
 pretty face ;
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 73 
 
 Won it and wedded her too, sir, wedded her square 
 
 enough, 
 And took her away to the boards, sir, and taught 
 
 her his play-going stuff. 
 
 But she loved him with all her heart, with a love 
 
 such as never was known, 
 And she loved the trade, at first for his sake, and 
 
 then for its own ; 
 And we heard of her now and again, such news as 
 
 we chanced to get, 
 She was making a name, they said, high up in a 
 
 first-class set. 
 
 And I never f< an d she would soil her soul in the 
 
 dirt of the town, 
 < >r tli.it praise and the promise of gold would drag 
 
 her modesty down ;
 
 74 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 But I wasn't so sure of him, and that night I'd a 
 
 kind of sense 
 That he played his love to her rival a bit too well 
 
 for pretence. 
 
 Where was I, sir ? Let me see. I was trying to 
 
 get to her side ; 
 Well — I found her stretched on a couch — they were 
 
 stemming the red blood's tide ; 
 But she saw me and smiled, and faintly she signed 
 
 to the rest to be gone, 
 Husband and doctor and friends — she must speak 
 
 to me all alone. 
 
 " Dick," says she, "dear Dick, this is good of you 
 
 Dick," she says, 
 With a gasp and a sob, and a hot hand held to 
 
 the stain of her dress,
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 75 
 
 And the other laid in mine, and her head propped 
 
 up on my arm — 
 You'll excuse my being a child, sir, I hav'nt the 
 
 heart to be calm. 
 
 "I did it," she says, "myself, Dick— I couldn't 
 
 bear my life, 
 For he wanted that woman instead, and wished he 
 
 had got no wife ; 
 1 saw that they loved each other, the)- played 
 
 their parts too well, 
 And I knew I was in the way, Dick, — a woman 
 
 can always tell. 
 
 "But I waited till now — you see, my engagement 
 
 ends to-night ; 
 No one saw when I changed my dagger for hcr's 
 
 that was sharp and bright ;
 
 -6 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Aline was a sham one for use, but hers was meant 
 
 for show, 
 They call it " a fatal mistake " and I want them 
 
 never to know. 
 
 " So you'll keep it a secret, won't you ? it's not 
 
 that I feel ashamed, 
 But if people guessed the truth, they would surely 
 
 both be blamed, 
 And I wouldn't have him unhappy, that's why I 
 
 wished to go. 
 If I'd stayed they might have sinned, and — I could 
 
 not bear it so. 
 
 " Stay, though, a fancy comes on me — who knows 
 
 but a tale may spread, 
 How that — she took my dagger — and put her own 
 
 in its stead?
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 77 
 
 The} 7 dare not saj' it of him, Dick — but men may 
 
 whisper a lie, 
 That would ruin her life and his, till they longed, 
 
 as I did, to die. 
 
 " So, Dick — if it comes to the worst — you may 
 
 make the mystery plain, 
 She wronged me — only in thought — but her hand 
 
 is free from stain ; 
 I bear her no malice — ah, no! God forgive her — 
 
 and him — and me — 
 Dear God, — give us all pure hearts, — and a heaven 
 
 of love with Thee. 
 
 " Closer, Dick, so, the blood comes fast — and the 
 
 light's ••' tting low. 
 
 Where is he ? Call him ! call him ! My husband ' 
 
 — ah, no, no, no !
 
 78 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Not mine, not mine — and it's dark, too dark to see 
 
 the dear face, 
 Quick — kiss me ! Dick — tell him I'll look for him 
 
 there, — and keep him a place." 
 
 Well, sir, I'm not much good at a tale, but I've 
 
 said what I've said, 
 I've kept the secret and break it now, for the sake 
 
 of the dead : 
 The woman's not guilty of crime, though she 
 
 stabbed her another way. 
 God pardon her that — God pardon them both — I 
 
 heard her pray. 
 
 And she, my sister ? I know that they call it a 
 
 deadly crime 
 To take the life that is lent before God's appointed 
 
 time :
 
 DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. 79 
 
 I only think that she dared the death without 
 
 count of cost, 
 And had sinned the sin for another's sake, though 
 
 heaven were lost. 
 
 Sin ! Is it a sin for another's sake to give the gift 
 
 of a life ? 
 See, one for his fatherland falls dead in the stress 
 
 of the strife ; 
 And one through the flame and the ruin rose 
 
 and laughs to die, 
 And the swimmer plunges and saves, and si] 
 
 with never a cry. 
 
 And ( 'n< on the cursed hill, tin Man that we < .ill 
 
 the Christ, 
 Hung in a horror of shame, for love's sake sa< 
 
 fie !.
 
 80 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 I speak in all reverence, sir, but I think that she 
 
 followed His feet, 
 And has reached, through a struggle of pain, the 
 
 rest of the peace that is sweet.
 
 SEA MEMORIES. 81 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Sea Memories. 
 
 To live beside the shore and catch the calling 
 Of sea to sea at midnight and at morn, 
 
 Uy noon and eventide to face the falling 
 Of waves unwearied on a strand unworn. 
 
 Westward afar to watch the waters glisten 
 
 Fronting the golden advent of the day, 
 In the long hush of night to lie and listen 
 
 While the low music melts along the bay. 
 
 So sweet it is as when a fair face lightens 
 I )aily the labi >ui oi a burd< ned life, 
 
 So dear as when one voice for evi I bright Qi 
 With beauty the still intervals oi trife. 
 
 G
 
 82 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 And like as when the world in rush and riot 
 Too loudly lures us to a lower choice, 
 
 Yet from that presence an unconscious quiet 
 Charms in the vision, chastens in the voice. 
 
 So seems it in my life beside the motion 
 Of surges that are ceaseless on the shore ; 
 
 Lost is the magic monotone of ocean 
 Unheeded in the noise of worldly war. 
 
 So seems it when the waters' ebb and flowing 
 Draws not the ear and dazzles not the sight, 
 
 Not less their nearness is to me, not knowing, 
 A silent solace of undream'd delight. 

 
 A SONG OF TYROL. 83 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A Song of Tyrol. 
 
 Tyrolese reapers ! man and maid, 
 
 Give not harvest hours to sleep ! 
 Sweet though it be to press the shade, 
 
 Reapers of Tyrol, up and reap ! 
 Gone is the might of the golden noon 
 
 Westward waning over the sky, 
 Westward ever, and all too soon 
 
 Up the valley the day will die. 
 
 O, but weary arc they that go 
 Forth to work in the misty morn, 
 
 Soon as the utmost heights of snow 
 
 Blush with a kiss from the rosy dawn ;
 
 84 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Sweet is the guerdon of labour done, 
 Trust the morrow and take your rest ; 
 
 Under many a summer sun 
 
 Still your work shall be surely blest. 
 
 Soft to sleep in the hush of day 
 
 Nature's voices wooing call, 
 Here in heavenly scent of hay 
 
 Cicalas hold high festival ; — 
 Whispered airs from the woods of pine, 
 
 Undertones of the moving mill ; 
 Clinging, clattering, bells of kine 
 
 Battened high on the hanging hill. 
 
 O, and sweetest of minstrelsy ! 
 
 Song of the restless rill that strays, 
 Laughing loud in a whirl of glee, 
 
 Lisping low to pastoral lays ;
 
 A SONG OF TYROL. 85 
 
 Since when over the beetling steep 
 Sheer it fell from its rocky ridge, 
 
 Soon by Italy's towers to sweep 
 Spanned by many a noble bridge. 
 
 Reapers of Tyrol ! sons of the soil ! 
 
 Here in Heaven's untainted air 
 Truly 1 hold your lot of toil 
 
 Dearer than ease in a home less fair : 
 Well may ye that in such a land 
 
 Move by mountain and stream and wood 
 Wonder not that the work of His hand 
 
 Seemed, to Him that had made it, good. 
 
 GOSSENSASS ON Till: BRENNER, 1S83.
 
 86 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The " Fates " of the Parthenon. 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 Ye sit and muse upon life's mystery, 
 
 Weaving the web of happiness and harm, 
 Yourselves untouch'd of fortune, by the charm 
 
 Encircled of your self-sufficiency. 
 
 This sudden fame of a new deity 
 
 Born of the Thunderer's brain with loud alarm 
 Not greatly moves your grand Olympic calm : 
 
 Such might was in the master's hand, when he 
 
 Informed you with the perfect strength, that still 
 Time mocks not at, nor ruin maketh mean ; 
 Such mellow grace lives in the moulded round 
 
 And rhythm of fair limbs that vex our skill 
 By phantasy to fashion what has been ; 
 This is the majesty of queens discrown'd.
 
 " WAS PASST DAS MUCH SICH RUN DEN." 87 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To 
 
 " Was passt das musst sick riindai.'' 
 (From the German of Novalis.) 
 
 Twin halves must grow complete, 
 Twin minds together meet, 
 Twin faiths each other greet, 
 
 Twin loves their lives must share ; 
 What hindereth must char, 
 What marreth disappear, 
 What is afar diaw near, 
 
 What blossom* th must heir. 
 
 Trust me, «1< ai hi ai t, and lay 
 J [and in my hand and Bay,
 
 88 WITH DOUBLE PIPE. 
 
 Thou wilt not turn away 
 
 Ever thine eyes from me : 
 One Cross to which we turn, 
 One goal for which we yearn, 
 One hope with which we burn, 
 One Heaven for me and thee! 
 
 Printed by E. B. Doe, 12CA, High Street, Oxford.
 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S.A.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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