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 AA 000 651 175 2 JNIVEBSITV Ql f* "i/liripl HI. PY 3 1210 01097 7369