rOMES FROM THE QUARRY 00 DS op ffllfJD HENRY BROWNE i m i mi ii mmnm <^ ' tw u , THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^7^/^^:^' A^ STONES FROM THE QUARRY; OR, ^ooDs Of a^inD, BY HENRY BROWNE. S/ii/cpa /liv Tad", dXK' o/iwg 'A 'xu. " Fungar inani munere." Sontion : PROVOST AND CO., HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN. UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS. PR CEpigcapt)* This is the first Stone from the Quarry — small, As fits humility and lowly use ; The first ^^ step," — to be trodden with abuse, Perhaps, and scorning, should some on it fall Or stumble, and the *^ use" in question call. 'Tis for that purpose squared, makes no excuse. But, fashioned to be trod on, doth refuse No usage, bad or good, but taketh all. Like Patience ! But if, walking haughtily. Their ways not heeding, some should fall on it, Hard as the nether millstone verily 'Twill prove, and, if it on them fall, 'twill hit Still harder, for 'tis called " Humility," Hard stone ! and with " hard fall " Pride be well quit OvSiic ^vvoiStv l^ajiapTdvwv, iroaov 'A/xapTdvei to fxiytOog, varipov d' '6p(f. fS^hi^ CONTENTS. Abomination, The, of Desolation Accouchements, Poetical ... Actualities and Possibilities African, Livingstone's Picture of the PYee The Uncorrupted Age, Kindly... Old, 6, 27, 81, 198, 216 A De Profundis of Humiliating Aspect of ... The Sitter Unkindly Wealthy and Luxurious Old •Agencies, Spiritual Agony, A Supreme ... -Ahead, Looking too Far ... Albemarle Street, No. 50 Alcestis Alchymist, The True Allegory, An ... ... ... 134, 142 of Scepticism and its Effects Ambition, The True America, The Future of ... and England Anatomy of a Man, To a Mere ... Angelo's, M., Cupid Answer, No .. Arrest without all Bail, The Fell ... Art, The Healing ... Aspiration, An Atlantic " Rollers" and Calm ... Aurora versus Bacchus .\uthors. Great How to Read Great The Sway of Great Automatic Action of Matter ... ... 297, Bacchante, Tne Raving Baily, Francis, who "Weighed the Earth" I'.^GE 315 42 116 247 247 23 225, 249, 266 280 223 267 23 130 178 148 316 187 324 56 151, 272, 331 152 193 166 172 95 156 135 50 86 208 332 128 15 57 203 301, 304, 314 ... 179 . . 188 vi CONTENTS. PAGE Ballot, The iii, 113 Barrett, Elizabeth 256 Be, not Seem ... ... ... ... ... ... 327 — or Not to Be, To ... 96, loi, 124, 132, 233, 322 Beautiful for Ever 301 Beauty, To a Haughty ... ... ... ... ... 282 '- To a Laughter-loving 284 Beethoven and Handel ... ... ... ... ... 78 Being, Mystery of ... ... . . ... ... ... 184 The Range of ... ... ... ... ...21,28 Belief ... 226, 271 Beverages, National .. ... ... ... ... 254 Bible, The ... ... ... ... .. ... ... 23S The Wife's ... ... ... ... ... ... 235 Blushed, She ... ... ... . . ... ... 314 Body, Keep in Subjection the 283 Book, The, You may Hold over the Fire ... ... 74 Books ... ... ... ... ... ... 36, 189, 190 the Plague of ... ... .. ... ... 56 Bookshelves, My ... ... ... ... ... ... 63 Boundless, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 121 Brave, The True ... ... ... ... ... ... 8 Break-down, A ... ... . ... ... ... 7 Breed, The Mystery of ... ... ... ... ... 17 Buskin, The Tragic .. ... .. ... 1.. 22 Ca//i2«>i!, The Sinking of the ... .. ... ... 16 Century, The Nineteenth ... .. ... ... ... 7 Chance and Change ... ... ... ... ... 28 Change ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 113 All is 30 Charity 268 Impulsive ... ... ... ... ... ... 85 Child of the Gutter and of the Fields, The 167 Child-training by Perambukitors ... ... .. 233 Christ 168, 185 Christmas ... ... ... ... ... .. ... 164 Church, The State ... . . ... ... ... . . 270 " City," The, at High-business ... ... ... ... 98 Cleopatra, The, of Shakspear and Dryden ... ... 98 Cloud Appearance, On an E.xquisite ... ... ... 279 Under a ... ... .. ... ... ... 211 Colloquy, A Familiar ... ... ... ... ... 131 Colours, Regimental, borne to St. Paul's ... ... 188 Column, Nelson's ... ... ... ... ... 189, 190 Coming Events cast their Shadows Before 4 Ditto, in another Key ... ... ... 5 Ditto, in a Minor Key ... 5 Composition, On not Recognising my own ... ... 3 Concluding, On, this Volume of Poetry 335 Conscience makes Cowards of us all ... ... ... 2 Consciousness ... .. ... ... ... 306, 309 CONTENTS. vii PAGE Consistency 127, 137 Continuity 86 Conventionalism ... 282 Cordelia's Tears 278 Coronation, Anniversary of the Queen's 270 Costermonger, To a Noble-hearted 272 Critics 64, 65, 95, 331 Cromwell's Statue, The Omission of 150 Culture 215 Cupid and Plutus 223 Curse not 252 Dante's •' Francesca da Rimini " ... ... ... ... 89 Darwin and " Species by Selection " 323 Dawn in a Cathedral ... ... ... 55 Near, On a Still Night 9 over the Atlantic 115 Day and Night 5^ On a very Hot Summer's ... 258 Days, The, that are Few and Evil 255 Death and the Pubhsher ^25 and Time ... . . ... ... ... ... i43 not in the Pot, but Pen 118 The Angel of 115 Deaths, Early, of Raphael, Mozart, &c. 208 Dedicatory Sonnet ... ... ... ... ... ... i Deeds, True Self-denying Good ... ■■ 264 Departed, To the 225 Depth, The, and the Height 303 Development, Physical ... ... .-• 28 Diary, Back Entries in a ... ... ... ... .-■ 246 Digestion, Mental ... ... ■■■ 54 Dinner, A Fashionable 132 Disillusion 96, 157 , Scientific 293 Do as you would be done by ... ... ... ... 91 Dog of Civihsation, The ... ... ... ... ... 278 The 82 Doing 194 Don't "give in" .^ ... 173 Doppelganger, Der, or, Man and his "DouWe" ... 268 Doubt 146, 207, 333 An Allegory 262 The Evil Spirit of 241 Drama, The Enghsh 29 Drum-Major 236 Earth, This Ball of 114 The Easting of the 152 Eclipse 116,143 Elixir Vitce 229 Embrace, Tha 280 viii CONTENTS. End, Forecast of the The The Beginning of the Endowments and Mortmains England To Unseaworthy ... England's Idolatry ... Enigma, An Entail to Heirs Special En^-y ... " Epicoene," or "Strong-minded Women' Esoteric ... ... " Eumousia " Evening Events, Coming Ever, For Everlastings and Neverlastings ... Evolution Exhibition, on the Great, of 1851 E.xistence, The Compensations of PAGE ... 289 159. '^n ■zoA, 259 ... 86 .9, 32, 82, 89 75, 192, 308 180 100 138. 299, 317 •• 15 • 79 17 54. 283 ■• 337 128 286 163 242 154 190, 331 ... 281 Face, On an exquisite Female Facts, The Logic of Faith and Hope, and the Automatic Action Decay of — ^— or the Sceptic " malgre' lui " Par and Fast, Too ... Far Niente, II dolce Faust, Gothe's February, On a very mild... Few and Far-between, The Fight the good Fight F'og-spell, After a long Fools... Forecast and Retrospect ... Fortune Fountain, Near a .. Fountain-vase, The... Fox, Pitt, and Chatham ... France, The Proteus of Nations... Freedom, Inner Freischiitz, Der Friend, To a... To my noble, Major G. P. Thomas Friends indeed Fugit Hora ... Funeral, A Service, A Cathedral Future, The ... ... ... , Allegory of the of Matter 90, 21 288 165 209 332 21 84 333 144 64 258 230 300 327 200 .. 166 65, 224 .. 225 39 .. 232 •• 58 .. 191 12, 137 .. 131 CONTENTS. Genius Isolated its Creative Power its Strength and Weakness Patient Germany and "Armed Peace" ... Glass, Loolc in this. Gradation Grasshopper, The Greatness, True Greece, Ancient The Mediterranean, and Rome God, The Worlis of where most Revealed Good and Evil, An Allegory of ... Gothe... Grief Apart, The ... Half-seas Over Hamlet Hamlet's Exaltation of Man Handel Hanmer's Poems ... Happiness from within in Reach of All Harlowe, Clarissa , Lovelace and IX Health Recovered ... Hearts, Broken —— True Union of Heavens at Night, The ... Hector and Andromache ... Helicon, My Hesperus Heu ! quanto jucundius ... Hiatus valde deflendus Hive, the Poetical ... Hofer Home, At ... The True Homer Homunculus, or the Lord of Creation Hope... Hora fugit ... Horse in Leicester Square, The ... Humanity, Brick and Mortar The Music of ... Husband, The Dying ... Hyde Park in a December Fog ... Hygeia PAGE 8, 220 . 206 . 202 . 202 • 326 . 218 . 212 47 126 . 196 • 27 • 3i 4 . 228 • 327 . 284 . 281 . 217 136, I • 171 37, 138 . 148 2 II . • 77 ■ 195 . 160 . 160 ■ 65,' 73- 122 . 107 • 330 ■ 304 54. • T-77 58, 313 19 . . 29a: • 199 • 329 ■ 336 • 319 . 128 . • 316 . • 49 , 2 • 293 20 . . 186 . • 50 291 . 318 • • 155 76, 299 X CONTENTS. PAGE Ideas 75 Identity, Personal ... 197 Iliad, Tlie ... ... 120 Imagination ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 5 Replica ... ... 6 Immortality 102, 192, 274, 28a " Immortals," The Self-dubbed ... ... ... ... 107 Impressions, First ... ... ... ... ... ... 79 Inconsistencies, Human ... ... 55 Infant, On an ... ... ... ... ... ... 279 Influence for Good ... ... ... ... ... ... 106 Infusoria ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 45 Inspiration, Poetic ... ... ... i6g Intellects, Late-ripe ... ... ... ... ... 272 Intercommunion ... ... ... ... ... ... 6 Invocation, An ... ... ... ... ... ... 268 Ireland and Agrarian Murders ... ... ... ... 309 Italy 9 The Unification of 152 United 119 Jonson, Ben... ... ... ... ... ... ... 29 Joy and Grief ... ... ... ... 170 fudge. The Upright ... ... 22 Jury, Trial by ... ... ... ... ... ... no Jury-box, The ... .. ... ... no Justice ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 44 Keats, The Premature Death of ... ... 16, 69, 71 Kiss, The Last ... ... ... ... ... ... 243 Knell, The Night 175 Knowledge shall Increase 294 Labour ... ... . . ... ... ... ... 235 Intellectual ... ... ... ... 194 in Vain ... ... ... ... ... ... 105 — — — versus \jiyMrj ... ... ... ... ... 83 Lady, To a Young ... ... ... ... ... 203 Landscape, On Annibale Caracci's ... ... ... 338 On a P'hotographic ... ... ... ... 269 Lang Syne, Auld ... ... ... ... ... ... 49 Last Stone, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 337 Leicester Square ... ... ... ... ... ... 156 Let us Eat, Drink, and be Merry ... ... ... 138 Library, My ... ... ... ... ... ... 42 Life, Appraisement of ... ... ... ... ... 84 as a Whole ... ... ... ... ... ... 277 Disbelief of a Future 251 Essential ... ... ... ... ... .. 118 Eternal ... ... ... ... 205 Modem ... ... ... ... ... ... 160 CONTENTS. XI PAGE Life, Painted from .. 3^4 Tenure of ^S^ The Double \ The Enigma of 296 The Goblet of 93 The Inner 95- 125 The Irony of i^S Unstable 45 according to Nature 4° Life-comparison, A 280 Life -dram a, A new Act of the 112 Life-training 220 Light and Sound °° . To a Ray of 215 Lights, Borrowed ... ... •-. ••• ••• ••• 321 ofallTime, The 122 of the World 61 Link, The Missing 108, 109, 263 Literature, Modern 141 Lives, Unfulfilled 250 Livingstone 248 and Westminster Abbey 30,311 Livingstone's Grave 250, 258 London 20, 144, 182 and the Thames 186 in Dead of Night 158 The Overcrowded Slums of 265 Look not too Close 323 The Last 242 Looks, The 29 Lost, Our 279 The. In Memoriam 186 Love ... ... ... ... ••• ■■■ ••• ••• 241 and the Automatic Action of Matter 297 First 200,273 First Tnie 252 "Free" 62,66,69 "writlarge" 99 writ small 100 Heavenly ... ... •■ ••• loi Stronger than Death 165 that waneth not, The 124 True, and Love par amours 290 True Wedded 306.320 "writlarge" 257 Lovelace, Colonel 240, 241 Love's Dialect 202 Luther 239 Luxury 320 and Scepticism ... ... ... ■•• ••■ 82 Modern 123 The Nemesis of i49 xii CONTENTS. Luxury, Warning on the Spread of . . Lyra, The Constellation ... Maid and Mother ... Make Ready, Prepare Mammon Man ... and Brute A True ... " Darwinised, " or, the Anti-cHmax Proud Man ... The, and his Times The Vanity of ... Man's A, a Man for a' That Power over Nature Relation to God ... Mankind, The Appro.ximation of Martyrdom of Latimer, Ridley, and Cranmer May, To May-day, On a Lovely Mean, The Golden Melodies, Unheard Memories ... ... Men Mendicancy, London Mens Sana in corpore sano Metempsychosis Midas, The British Milestones, Political Milo, Venus of Milton, To Asleep .. Milton's " Paradise Lost " Mind and Matter ... Minerva, Invita Misappreciation Missionary Efforts in India Monuments, Our Public ... ... . . Moore's Sentimental, " Boudoir" Vein Moriar, Non Omnis Morning, A Springtide " Mors sola fatetur " Mother, To a Young Mountebanks, Platform Mozart The Death of Mundi, E.xtra flammantia mcenia Muse, My ... of the "Just Milieu" The, in the Dumps ... ... The Service of the ... Muses, The Service of the... PAGE •■• 175 ... 58 ... 158 ... 49 88, 179 58, 214 .•■ 173 ... no ... 155 ... 125 ... 47 .. 295 ••• 237 ... 163 ... 307 ... 283 ... 149 ... 197 ... 199 47. 234 ... 87 ... 218 -.. 145 ... 213 ... 201 7 - 330 ... -jj — 338 - 33 - 15s ... 185 20 106 ... 59 ... 159 ... 214 ... 230 .•• 334 25 ... 142 .. 2o3 ... 109 ... lOI .. 157 •. 52 48, 233 240 .. 91 200 ... 24 CONTENTS. xiii PAGE Muses, The, and Hygeia 33 Muse's, The, Service 70 Music 121, 219 from Within 84 Harmonic Pauses in 134 in Excelsis 217 Napoleon I. 210, 296 Nation, What Makes a Great 121 Nature below the Surface 129 Dame 92 Human, Anomahes of 176 learning her A, B, C ... 290 Violent Contrasts of 196 Nature's, Human, Darker Side ... » ... 146 " Nee fonte labra prolui Caballino, " &c 19 Neck or Nothing 172 Negro, The Maligned 171 Nelson, The Death of 113 New, Nothing 141 New-married, The 285 Newton's House, Sir Isaac 99 Nemesis ... ... ... ... ... ... 312, 319 Night, On a Beautiful Starry ' 285 the Mountains ... 183 Land 210 Water ... ... ... ... ., ... 211 Nightingale and Poet ,„ 92 Now, Our 67 Occupation ... ... ... ... ... . ... j. Occupations, Absorbing 107 oidcio' ... ;;: ::; i4 The 117 Ophelia 144 Opportunities Lost, Early 78 Organ-grinder, The 62 The Worn-out 226,294 Origination ... ... ... ojg Out, Damnfed Fiend 148 Paris 181, 19s Passion, A Middle-age .. ^k^ Past, The ." ;;; ;;; ;;; ^ Palace, The Crystal 1^3 Design of the 191 Opening of the 192 Paletot, The " Reversible " Political 201 Patience ... ... 81 Peace "" j„j Peerages '.'.' 213 Pegasus 274 Pen wn-i^j- Sword ... ... ... ... 318 xiv CONTENTS. PAGE Perfectibility, Human 130 Perfection 221 Perseus and Medusa 55 Philosophy, Divine... ... ... ... ... ■•■ 127 Physician, The Best .. 85 Piano-Forte, The ... ... ... ... ... •■- 140 Pikes, The Langdale ... ... •■■ 7 Pitt 167 Burke, Fox, and Sheridan .. 300 Playing out ... ... ... ... ... ... •■• 114 Pleasure-hunters ... ... ... ... ... ■•• 229 Poesy 8, 22, 30, 40, 72 A Defence of 43 Poetry, My *. 227 What is 292 Poet, and the Cup of Truth, The 188 Spell of the true 178 The 59 The True i73 Poet's, The, Rule of Life ... 63 Test, The 66 Poets 41 A Hint to 25,26,97 To 36 Polar, Night and Day 57 Portrait, On a Missing ... ... 26 The. To 167 Power, Divine ... ... ... ... •■• •■• 169 Preachers, The Best 3°? Prescience, Unavailing ... ... ... ... ••■ 295 Prescription, The Best ... ... ... ... ... 87 Press, The Printing- 326 Pride 140 of Intellect, False 222 Prism, The 249 Procrastination 97. 253 " Profundis," " De " 174,214,284,291 Progress 28, 70, 118, 267 Prometheus, The New ... ... ... .. ••• i35 and Eros 136 Prophetic ... ... ... ... .-■ 3^4 Prosperity, Sudden... ... ... ... ... ..• 9° Protest against a Base Action ... ... .. .■• 250 Pure in Spirit, The ... ... ... -.. ••• 81 Pygmalion reversed... ... ... ... ... ••• 161 Question, The ... ... ... 93 Rack, The Sonnet- 243 Raphael's "Madonna della Seggiola" 70 Raven, The ... ... ... ... ... ... ••■ ' 4 CONTENTS. XV PAGE Realities and Semblances 260 Realization ... ... ... ... ... ... -■• 9^ Reason ... ... ... ... ... .•■ ••• i33 Reckonings with Self, Keep Short 332 Regicides and Charing Cross, The ... ... ... 187 Religion and the Automatic Action of Matter 297 Remorse 212 Repemsing, On, the Sonnet, " A Springtide Sunday " 313 Retrospect, The Blessed, of Good Deeds 259 Revelations 172 Right, Who's 93 Rome, Antique 237 Liberated 221 Mediaeval; Pope and King 237 Sappho 83, 189 Antique 129 Modern ... 130 The Triune 321 Scene of all. The Last Sad ... ... ... ... 185 Scepticism ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 27 School-Board Wrangles ... ... ... ... ... 67 Science and Faith ... ... ... ... ... ... 170 Modern 48 Scientific "Quintains" ... ... ... ... ... 334 Sea, The 15 Revisiting the ... ... ... ... ... ... 45 Seat by an Ancient Tomb, On a... ... ... ... 51 See, As the Light so we ... ... ... ... ... 104 Self and Truth 308 Self-appraisement ... ... ... ... ... ... 235 Self-control ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 239 Self-cheating ... ... ... ... ... ... 316 Self-experience ... ... ... ... ... ... 184 Self-love and Love ... ... ... ... ... ... 329 Self-mastery ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 176 Self-reliance .. ... ... ... ... ... ... 103 Self-righteous, The. . ... ... ... ... ... 255 Selection, Natural ... ... ... ... 34 " Selection " Theory, The ... ... ... ... ... 119 Seizures and Inspirations ... ... 312 Sense, Illusions of . . ... . . ... ... ... 119 Service which is Perfect Freedom, The... ... ... 323 Severn, The " Bore" of the ... ... ... 262 Shakspear ... 74, 104, 147, 151, 174, 182, 209, 248, 289 Old 26 a Triad ... ... ... ... ... ... 10 The Study of ... ... ... 329 To... ... ... ... ... ... ... 42 Shakspear's Early Death ... ... ... 168 Poems ... ... ... ... ... ... 24 Portrait 153, 263 xvi CONTENTS. PAGE Shakspear's Sonnet, " With what I most enjoy con- tented least " ... ... ... ... ... ... i8i Universality ... ... ... ... ... 263 — wonderful Assimilative Power ... ... 204 Ships, Unseavvorthy ... ... ... ... .. 184 Sic itur ad ? ... 191 Side, The Dark 127 Silence ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 239 Dead ... ... ... ... ... ... 256 Skeleton in the Closet, The ... ... 302 Slave-trade, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 245 Sleep 231, 335 and Death ... ... ... ... 227 Sonnet CXXIII., Shakspear's 136 The 14, 57, 61, 63, 65, 68, 87, 108 The. To a Caviller ... ... 231 Sonnet-writers, A Hint to 153 Sonnets ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 288 My 300 Shakespear's ... ... . . 61, 62, 88, 135 Soul, The Temple of the ... ... ... ... ... 103 Soul-yearnings ... ... ... ... ... ... 326 Soured? Eh! ... ... ... ... ... ... 245 Sparta, Man-proud... ... ... ... ... ... 71 Species by Selection ... ... ... ... ... 117 Sphere-music ... ... ... ... ... ... 240 Spinoza, The Death of ... ... ... ... ... 193 Spirit, The Arch-Evil ... ... ... ... ... 293 Spring, A Sudden Burst of 246 Early 230 Spring-head, The .. ... ... 12 Stage, The Last Sad ... ... ... ... ... 269 Star, On a Far-off ... .. ... ... .. ... 265 Stars, The ... ... ... 112, 216, 222, 236, 295, 298 Steam-engine, The... .. ... ... ... ... 278 Storm, What weathers the. . ... ... ... ... 90 Sublime, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 317 Suez Canal, The Suicide Sunday, a Springtide ... ... ... ... ... 24 Sunset, A ... ... ... ... ... .. ... 7 A Splendid and Peculiar 324 On a most Impressive ... ... ... ... 319 On a very Peculiar 273 on the Lago Maggiore ... ... ... ... 51 Supernatural, The ... ... ... ... ... ... 271 Surface, Under the... ... ... ... ... ... 275 Surroundings and Belongings ... ... ... ... 243 Swallow, To the ... ... ... ... ... ... 287 Swine, Cast not Pearl to 245 Switzerland ... ... .. 123 Sword and Ledger ... .. ... ... 296 244 14s CONTENTS. xvii PAGE Symbolical .. ^53 Symphony, Beethoven's Choral 103 "Pears 99,100,242,261,262 Telescope, Lord Ross's 120 Temple, The ... • 205 The Spirit 37 Test, The Furnace 19 Thalassa ! Thalassa 251 Themes, Worn-out... 161 Theories, Scientific 290 Things, Hidden .. • • I4 to be 40 Thomas, On the Death of my Friend, Major G. P. ... 18 . To Mrs 336 Thought 303 . -A Springtide 253 Tichbome Trial, The 216 Time ... ... ■•• ••• ^^' ^O' ^°2, 120, 164 a merely Human Idea 133 and Change 276 Killing 105 Lose not ... ... ... ... •■. ... 54 "onEntail" ... 254 Was 255 Time-Killers ... 132 Tintern Abbey ... 219 To Be, The 178 The Not 179 To M. L 35 To Mrs. ... 249 To the Addressee of the Sonnet, page 205 211 To the Incomparable M. L 8 To the Sweet Nymph 206 To 73.88,164,175 To 76, 77, 92, 102, 112, 168, 177, 196, 203, 204, 205 224, 228, 238 To A Contrast.. 183 To Convalescing ... ... ... ... 222 To the Departed 232 To 183, 201, 215, 223, 265, 287, 298 To on her return from the Seaside ... 325 Tomb, On a 71 To-morrow 147. 256, 269 and To-morrow ... ... ... ... 264 Too Late m Too Soon 89 Trade versus War 114 Training, Infant 122 Trees, The, Of the Lord 287 Trespassers Beware 97 Triad, 1 he Family 157 xviii CONTENTS. PAGE Trial, The (9«s 3^4 Truth 41, 105, 106, III, 270 and Fiction ... ... ... ... ... ... 281 at all Cost 277 TheAngelof 108 ■ The Cost of 109 Supreme 226 what it demands 328 Ulysses, The Last Quest of 149 Universe, The 217 Upheavals of the Nineteenth Century 3 Used-up 60 Vacuo, yW^Vj i7i 253 Vce Solo et Singulari 292 Vain, In 306 Vanishing-point, The 187 Vase, The Alabaster 60 Vates, Sacer 67,76,78,159 Sacri... ... ... ... ... ••• •■• 22 Venice ... ... ... ••• ••• 17 Versification 39 Victim, The Altar and the 140 Virtue 146 Vision, A 104 An Airy =57 Vive memor Lethi i95 Wail, A Christmas, Not Carol 221 War-Special, Our " 139 The Ashanti 219 Warfare, Modem 72 Warrior, see Captaiii. Warning, A 3^ Way, The Milky 117 Wealth 91. 317 Pride of 134 Worldly 72 Wellington, Equestrian Statue of, on Constitution Hill '. 75. 98 Westminster Abbey 266, 274, 285, 298, 305 . , Dawn in ... 11 What is Coming 264 White and Black 171 Widower, The 339 Wife, The 328, 340 The True i94. 333 Will, Take the, for the Deed 33^ Free 320, 33° Wisdom 18, 310 Wish, A 244 CONTENTS. Wit and Humour Woman at her Best The Strong-minded Woman's Voice Womanhood, The Glory of Women, Platform ... Women's Rights Word, The Last Work World, In, Not of the The Fashionable ... The Lights of the World-music World's a Stage, All the Year, The, in our Northern Hemisphere Reference to a Bygone Young, The Art of Keeping , Youth keeps the World a-going The Glorification of Use Well Thy ... Youth's Illusions XIX PAGE ... ii6 246 16, 17 •■■ 273 162 19. 335 37, 129 ... 169 - 139 ... 85 ... 80 224, 286 23, 64 - 133 154 286 94 126 143 145 147 142 •'-V STONES FROM THE QUARRY; OR, ^oot)5 Of 80inD, DEDICATORY. Muse ! if I in vain take not thy name, As oft my fear, contending with my hope, And giving back from prize of so large a scope, Would prompt ; oh pardon ! put me not to shame ; y " And, if thou own me not, at least not blame. Sorrow enough it were if thou not ope The gates of thy proud temple on the slope Of Fame, to one who humble suppliant came. Long have I sat beside, a fugitive, Thy oracles in search of, and that rest Which she, who serves thee not — -the World — can't give. Oh cast me not, then, off ; I serve thee best 1 can, and love thee most. For thee I live ; For thee would die to fulfil thy behest ! THE DOUBLE LIFE: ESOTERIC. Perplexing, baffling lot indeed is his In whom two diverse natures cross, as 'twere. A twofold life his ; in himself a pair Of beings, not trae single. Nothing is But what is not, to him. Still must he miss Thaths would have ; it is not here, but there, Far in the Future, bright mirage in air. Thus Janus faced his life, works, pains, and bliss. Without metempsychosis there can be To him no future : like strange face in dream, Yet lizdiig face, which he will never see ! The Present seems. Thus, misfit in life's scheme. In the strait- waistcoat of the Present he Writhes as "possessed," and mad to some may seem. B 2 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; HOMUNCULUS, OR THE LORD OF CREATION. Forgive me if I smile, O Man, proud Man ; 'Tis sadly. Prick this bladder with a pin, And thou of evil know'st the origin. A little wine the idiot Laughter can Set grinning in those eyes whose salt rheum ran A breathing-while ago. Take opium ; win A crown ; and, waking, hide thy pate within A fool's cap. Rage with henbane a brief span. Forget, with belladonna, thou art fool Or knave. Take subtle morphine : a few grains Will loose beyond the rhetoric of the school Thy voluble tongue. This drug a hell contains, A heaven that : in this a fiend doth rule. In that an idiot drivels in thy brains ! (i) "CONSCIENCE MAKES COWARDS OF US ALL." If thou would'st bid the angel Sleep attend Thy pillow, let not, adder-like, Thought sting That dove, when peace should nestle 'neath her wing. In that mysterious pause where life doth blend With death, yet either neither comprehend. A mind void of offence still with thee bring, Best anodyne ; and let the past day sing An evening hymn, and bless thee in its end. But if thou sin 'gainst man, and so 'gainst God, Thy pillow shall be full of ears and eyes. And blabbing tongues. Darkness shall hold a rod Of scorpions o'er thee. Terror shall surprise Thy dreams, and Conscience slumber not nor nod, But face to face with God search out thy lies. HANDEL. Mighty, as mighty in thy birth ; as all That's strongest should be ; nay, a twofold birth, And throes reduplicate, t' incarnate such worth, Were needed, and a twofold spirit-call. Thee from thy mother's womb prophetical. Great Armenie, (2) whose large loins know no dearth, Religion called, to harmonise the earth And heavens, and both worlds alike enthral. Twice parented, a second mother here, Our England, went in labour with thee long ; Gave thee a spiritual birth, and drew thee near To her great Protestant breast to make thee strong. Thus of two nations born, and doubly dear, Each parent claims, nor does nor suffers wrong. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 3 ON THE MOMENTOUS SOCIAL UPHEAVALS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Life's tide is high and working, heady and strong ; The deeps are broken up, and at full flood. The human billows, wave on wave, for good Or evil, break m thunder-foam along The strand of Time ; o'erwhelming wrong with wrong, And right with might ; and righting, but with rude And raging Polyphemus' one-eyed mood. The World's old wrongs and ills, a motley throng. The Nemesis of History, serene But stem, with face Memnonian or of Sphinx, Propounds her dread enigmas — what has been Or shall be : as he rans, the missing links Time spells. The " writing on the wall " (3) is seen, And from the dread doom king or nation shrinks. (4) ON NOT RECOGNISING MY OWN COMPOSITION. We may forget ourselves — -nay, in a sense Forget that we have been, it seems ! I read A poem lately, and if, from the dead Appearing, one had whispered in past tense, " You wrote it, far in place and time from hence," I had replied, inclining low my head, " Good Sir Defunctus, art thou sure thou'st said The thing that is ? they should, who come from whence Thou dost, say sooth !" Man's being has strange turns And contradictions ; in himself he is Out of his depth, and, like spent swimmer, yearns For something tangible — a straw — to miss Which is to sink. Little the Past concerns, As seems, the Present — lips that coldly kiss. GREECE, THE MEDITERRANEAN, AND ROME. Thou glorious mirror, from whose blue expanse, Like her own Cypris, Greece in beauty rose, Earth's fairest vision ; and from rise to close, Through each harmonic phase of change and chance, Saw her bright image on the surface dance Of thy great magic glass, where still it glows Changeless 'mid Time's more transitory shows. An autotype divine, en permancitce ! There Judah saw the image of her God, Abidingly as sky and ocean ; Tyre Purpled the waves, with Carthage counting gold; There too her mighty outline, at whose nod Imperial, earth shook, traced as with fire : But Hellas glows, cast in diviner mould. B 2 4 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON THE SAME. Thou mirror, kingdom-framed, o'er which so long The huge Colossus Rome her shadow threw. And with her fragments all thy shores did strew ; When, like a potter's vessel, in the strong O'erheated furnace of her sin and wrong, She flew to pieces, and in ruin drew A world behind her ; strangely Old and New, Hopes, memories, each on other crowding, throng. But oh, the magnet that most draws our hearts Is not that of "The Seven Hills ;" 'tis thine, Jemsalem ! thou goal towards which still starts Each pilgrim soul ; or to its other shrine, Athens, the eye of science and of arts, The first to see man's heritage divine. (5) THE RAVEN. With darkness clothed, as if begot of night, How proud he walks, a plumed aristocrat. With bold, frank eye, he looks straight forthright at Tiis opposite, as tho' " Upon my right I stand," he'd say ; — nay, says — tongues lie, not sight. With keen, sagacious look, reserved, sedate. He knows his place, and keeps a certain state. In mind and plumage the mere opposite Of Harlequin jay. What strange similitudes (Ay, in man's inner as his outward moods) Challenge in " fellow-creatures " sympathy ! When ran " the noble savage wild in woods " Some "galled his kibe," melhinks, and touched him nigh; But God looks out and awes in human eye. "COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE." From smallest things to gi-eatest by degrees My soul hath grown ; and as, in wondering glee, I placed the sea-shell at my ear, to be The mouthpiece of the ocean ; till the sea's Far, multitudinous roar came on the breeze, And not alone to hear I seemed, but see : So to the inner ear of soul I thee Do place, O World, and hear Iky voice with ease. And harmony beyond the Orphean lyre I catch. The "still small voice," high over all The tumult of the rushing ages, higher And fuller, more articulate — God's call ! Not in the unconsumed bush of fire, But in this wondrous world, in great and small. OR, MOODS OF MIND. DITTO IN ANOTHER KEY. When first my quickened soul gave heed and ear To the World's wondrous inner harmony, " A still, small voice " ran, like an undercry, From star to radiant star, sphere answering sphere. Scarce audible at first, but ever clear And clearer, as their light unto my eye, Until the whisper soft filled earth and sky, And listening Nature knelt in awe and fear. The earthquake and the tempest have swept past And drowned that " voix celeste " in crime and wrong. But still I catch at each pause in the blast Of strife its call, more clear, more gently strong. 'Tis God's own voice ; and far and near at last It sounds the keynote of the world's great song. DITTO TRANSPOSED INTO A MINOR KEY. The sound of many waters fills my ear ; The growing thunders of the falls of Time ; As o'er the dark brink, many-voiced, sublime, They sweep this fleeting century, in fear And hope, beneath the rainbow arch of clear Unshaken faith ; while wisdom, folly, crime, Old things fast passing into mused rime. And new, prepare man for a larger sphere. The pulses of the world are quick and strong. At fever-heat ; drunk, not with wine but dreams, Fools deemed true seers, lead the many wrong. But from this stir and hum confused, which seems A Babel, heavenward shall rise one song ; One mighty flood be all these confluent streams ! IMAGINATION. A headstrong steed art thou, ill-trained, to ride, Imagination ! Well he needs to use Both bit and spur, for thy hot blood doth chuse Strange paths, in spleen of speed and flush of pride. One might almost as lief the wind bestride. As thee, thou winged Pegasus, when loose ; That know'st not time nor space, nor dost refuse To go to Heaven or Hell, whate'er betide. (6) Yet what were Man without thee ! Light, wind, wing, Fire, flame, are poor comparatives for thee. Thou dost into the lap of Pleasure fling Unknown delights, and touchest those we see And feel to finer issues. Thou dost bring The dead to life, and mak'st Man spirit-free ! STONES FROM THE QUARRY; REPLICA. A noble steed art thou, kept well in hand, Imagination ! Nor dost thou despise Traces or rein, wing'd Pegasus of the skies, When capable hands thy utmost powers demand. Loads of dull lore, by common brains ill spanned, Thou mak'st with feet to move, with wings to rise ; And when a Milton all thy mettle tries, As proud thou to obey, as he command. But when a Shakspear strides thee, 'tis as tho' The twain were, "Centaur-like, incorporate. Thy mighty wings from under thee do blow The earth, and with their motion renovate : Thou winnowest the chaff of Custom from the slow Dull path of Time, and dost anticipate ! INTERCOMMUNION. Break down these barriers which separate Man from his fellow-man, and Him above ; Bring all together in the embrace of Love, That Peace may reign, and leave no room for Hate. The lowly violets in humble state Embalm the earth, and e'en the proudest move To stoop and set them with the rose, to prove How mingled sweets their sweets reciprocate. Love is the Jacob's-ladder of the sky ; And those who have climbed highest on it show Like angels, as in close vicinity To heaven ; angels reach to them below Their hands, and they in loving sympathy Reach down to earth, and draw it upward so ! OLD AGE. ' The Many-sided,' who all qualities Knew with most subtle spirit, and man's heart Could prove in its most hid and tenderest part. Has painted Age "sans teeth, sans taste, sans eyes;" The visible and outward these comprise — Sad emblems how and with what sapping art Time with decay debateth ; but worse smart Within do work his cruel subtleties. There like an Inquisitioner he strains Age on the rack ! If wretched Poverty have (7) Than ridicule no worse ill in its pains, How much more Age, that seeks a despised grave !(8) The lion, old, is kicked ; Wit's drivelling brains The idiot Laughter mocks ; the base the brave ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. A SUNSET. The sun o'er Langdale Pikes is setting bright • And cloudless, and their twin peaks burn like fire, Molten, yet unconsumed — a funeral pyre Sublime, on which, slow burning from our sight, The dying day in ashes falls with night. A few light vapours float, like incense, higher And higher, and in rainbow hues expire. As darkness gently sets the eye of light. O God, how holy is this calm ! the winds Hold their hushed breath, as when love watches death ! The awe and beauty sink into our minds ; A Spirit seems to draw our mortal breath, And in our inmost souls a response finds, Yet can we not interpret what it saith. THE LANGDALE PIKES. Who carved those lions, (9) couchant in the sky. Their base a mountain ; that so grandly seem T' o'erlook the world's imagined edge, and dream Of things to come, or hoar antiquity ? Have they coevals in geology, Mastodon, Megatherium, supreme Of monsters? Can Memnonian Sphinx, the theme Of dedicated wonder, with them vie ? No bones or fossils huge, prefiguring these, Has science yet discovered or divined ; No Michael Angelo did ever seize The rock, and thus constrain it to his mind; But Nature in her mood can shape with ease A mountain or a pebble in its kind. METEMPSYCOSLS. Could we clotlie on with flesh the mighty dead, And bid them live again such as they were ; Could we our magic circle so prepare. And use such spells that Done must follow Said ; Unsphere great Plato's soul, the halo'd head Of Shakspear, or from " Hell" make Dante fare, With smell of "penal" fire on his hair. Or Csesar, o'er spurned Rubicon Fate-led, — How should we know the men ? What shaping part Had circumstance or outward hap ? The age Begets its children in its likeness ; heart And head are to the actors and the stage Conform : change these, the stream takes other start. And leaves another track on History's page. STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO THE INCOMPARABLE M. L. Oh in what lilies of thy forehead, say, Doth Chastity withdraw, yet draw our gaze ? Methinks if Love his velvet lips should place Thereon, it were sweet question whether they Their glow would cool, or that chaste snow give way! Oh, with the living roses of thy face What roses vie, poor shadows of their grace, Thro' which soft, shifting under-lights still play In roseate flushes. On those parted lips Speech lingers, as if loath to leave those sweets Whose honey, like the bee, he hives and sips ! And oh, those eyes, where morn with evening meets In pensive lights and shadows, there Love tips His arrows, and to finest temper heats ! GENIUS. How is Man's mind built up ? A palace now, With half-angelic occupants ; a shrine Where God might almost deign to say, 'Tis Mine; — And now a hell, where foul fiends mop and mow. Some reap where others went before to plough ; Some only glean, not knowing Mine from Thine ; A far-off soul some quickens, as may shine Some far-off star, lighting we know not how, — A father, mother, grandsire, a soul Before the Flood, a nation's Composite, May fashion oite to act heroic role, Like Briareus with hundred-handed might : Another, Argus-eyed in brain, this Whole To read, whom God bids say, Let there be Light ! POESY. my beloved ! Muse of my young days, Come to my arms once more, thou only true And constant ! I our loves do nothing rue, Altho' thou hast not brought me even bays ; Oh yet be thou thrice blessed, for thy ways Are ways of pleasantness ; thou dost renew Me in perpetual youth — -in t/we I view Venus Urania clothed in heavenly rays. Thou hast not brought me gold nor praise of men: 1 could not write for hire, for I should be A hireling, with thy curse upon my pen. No gall is in it ; sweet as Hybla's bee 'Tis in thy honey dipped : God bless thee, then, For whose sweet sake I love all things and thee ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. NEAR DAWN ON A STILL NIGHT. The earth rolls noiseless eastwards — one by one The stars are lost to view, that measure flight Of time and lapse of space ; and now 'twixt Night And Day a narrow isthmus lies, upon One end whereof, dark, by comparison Darkness itself, privation mere of light, Night, spectrelike, withdraws ; while faintly bright, With rosy step the other end anon (lo) The angel. Light, will tread ! 'Tis like life's goal, Where nothing is but what is not ! This pause Csesural is as if this wondrous Whole Held in its breath : through silence that o'erawes I feel the pulses of the World's great soul. And, lost in it, nor know nor seek the cause ! ENGLAND. Fair art thou, in thy sweet undress of green, Which Spring with flowers purfles — the great Sea Stretched smiling at thy feet, caressing thee, His head laid in thy lap, with thy sweet sheen And glamour ta'en, as Samson's once had been In his Dalilah's. Yet oh, not as he ! For thou wouldst thy Beloved's locks so free Not clip ; they are thy strength as his, I ween. O passing-fair ! and fair, too, is that love Which jealously doth guard thee from surprise ; A blessing sealed the union from above — For from those mighty loins the Free arise, The procreant womb of Nations, who shall prove Worthy of both great parents' destinies. ITALY. Proud, with his Adriatic arm, the Sea Draws, Nereid-like, his Venice to him ; twines His great caressing hand with all its brines 'Mid her soft tresses ; proud of her, as she May well be of such lover. Once more free, O God be praised, on her fair forehead shines A star of promise, lighting up the lines Of her old glories, to which new shall be As echoes. With his other azure arm He clasps twin-sistered Genoa, nor knows Which most to cherish, each so much doth charm ! Between the twain fair Italy wakes and glows In Freedom's arms. Oh draw her to thee close, True Romeo, shield thy Juliet from all harm ! lo STONES FROM THE QUARRY; SHAKSPEAR : A TRIAD. The world's Colossus thou, between whose stride Thy fellows walk, to make for thee a foil. And wonder at themselves. Our painful toil And strained touches all our arts scarce hide, Like bastards Nature's true first-born beside ; From whom their putative mother would recoil, As from those who her most sweet favour spoil, To mask their alien looks in borrowed pride. Long with thee she in labour went, and late She weaned thee ; therefore thou dost not behold With spectacles of books, short-fashioned, out of date, But with her sight that never groweth old ; And with her heart, not set up high in state, But lowly, loving, love ne'er growing cold. Thrice blessed Spirit, like the gift of light. Thou show' St all things as God designed they should. And as from poisonous flowers the bee sucks good And wholesome sweets, so evil in thy sight Hath taste of good, or doth to good invite. Thy heart in oneness and infinitude Is like the sea-sand, and its ebb and flood. Like Ocean's, keeps its currents sweet and right. " Eidola specus " haunt not thy large brain ; Imagination's even-balanced wings Winnow all chaff of custom from Life's grain. Thy large discourse of reason through all things Looks at a glance, and in that wide glass brings God's image, blurred elsewhere, clear out again ! As Samson his green withes, thou dost break The threads of custom that so countless bind And hamper, like a Gulliver, man's mind. And from that ape. Convention, thou dost take The badge of servitude, and freedman make. And from the blurred face of Humanity Dost pluck tlie mumming mask, the livery Of man, and in God's holy likeness wake. O England, what a debt of gratitude Thou ow'st this soul, thy glory's pinnacle ! Which shines, a constellation of all good. On thro' the ages ; while the nations tell His praises many-tongued, and own the spell. Who showed them best Man's true similitude ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. n SIR JOHN HANMER'S POEMS. True man, true poet, large of brain and heart ; How lightly dost thou wear Convention's chain, And Custom fling'st, as eagles fledg'd disdain The eyrie ; thou art of all, yet apart. Great Nature was at strife for thee with Art ; But as wise Solomon made Nature gain By the true mother's dread of infant slain, So Nature from thy birth gained a fair start. Oh if, one of the least, I do not talte The Muse's name in vain, disdain not this Enforced praise, whose echo yet shall wake Far louder rounds : I grieve the world should miss High service — the dull world, so slow to make Just measure of those heights the heavens kiss. THE SAME. Why " hold a candle to the sun ? " O slack Of heart ! not unto him I hold, but you ; That by degrees ye may perceive, as do The blind (tho' not the worst), the born so ! Black, Ay, outer darkness lies upon their track Who wi/l not see ; the critics base, whose view Is barred by envy, amaurosis true ; Stone-blindness to God's light, that leaves no crack, Chink, cranny for its entrance ! No, not e'en The shutter-baffling ray philosophy First analysed into its rainbow-sheen ! If quenched, 'tis not by darkness ; in it I Shine on unnoticed ; I have done and beett : A man may light an angel's ministry ! DAWN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Darkness that might be felt, from roof to ground, Made Silence hold her breath — the mighty dead In il, as in one tomb, lay buried. The lofty vaults, their very stones around Haunted and musical with holy sound Of bygone chaunt and prayer, viewless o'erhead Up-pillared darkness in the vaulted stead Of roof, but without form, a void profound. Then through the windowed east the angel Light Stole in ; creative Light, the architect ; Stealthy at first, as when the blind get sight. And glancing here and there, as to connect Tomb, pillar, vault, and corbel, flooded height And depth, and built it up for God's elect. 12 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE SPRING-HEAD. Just born, with bees and heather its lisp to greet ! The maiden fills her jar and stays it so ! The child o'erleaps it further on. Yet go A Sabbath-journey, 'tis a mill-stream fleet ; Works with a will, and sings with voice as sweet As glad ; that gladness Work alone doth know ! Anon, like Median vein, with healthful flow, Some Metropolitan heart it makes the seat Of Commerce, as with civic mural crown O'erbridged. With tidal pulses the great sea Meets it half-way in welcome ; lower down Invests it with his "freedom," — makes it free Of the wide world, with share in all renown And all gieat work done for Humanitie ! THE FUTURE, (ii) In thoughts from visions of the night, when sleep Seals up men's hearts, a thing was secretly Unto me brought : it seemed as if God's eye Were fixed upon me, and an awe, as deep As his who waits the words of Doom, 'gan creep Into my inmost soul. No form passed by ; No voice, no sound, but the intensity Of silence as 'twixt life and death did keep Dread pause ! My mortal nature by new laws Seemed bound ; and all at fault, as lost, my mind In worlds not realised was at a pause. As groping towards the light, like those struck blind. So he of his release knew not the cause Angelic, till himself he free did find ! (I2) So I, methought, a vision saw alone, A vision of the night ; but yet a-wake I dreamed : as light airs fly before the break Of day, the breath of a new life seemed blown Into my soul, with sweetness all unknown. As faint lights herald in the sun to make A path of glory for him, for my sake The " Father of Lights" some little of His own Vouchsafed to me ; and, as the iron gate To Peter opened of his own accord, He knew the angel, deemed a vision late, My vision's "gate of horn" doth so afford (13) Like egress to thy truth and freedom, Lord, And thee I know, by franchise without date. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 13 But little is to mortal man revealed ; His Pisgah faintly shows the " Promised Land ;" Yet what I see is life more true and grand. Not for the few, but all, doth Science yield Her large results, and make the earth one field. One mine, one workshop — when for all all's planned, Of heart and brain, and steam's Briarean hand Life's drudgery does, man's mind will be unsealed. The rays of that true intellectual sun. To focus brought, shall concentrate such light That clouds of ignorance be few or none ; Such warmth that to their fairest, fullest height All herbs of grace in man shall one by one Attain perfection in his Maker's sight. Private shall cease, and Public good be rule ; Wealth, rendered useless, shall be no man's aim. Where wealth of all makes each and all the same. The finest palace shall be then the school Where the child learns to be nor knave nor fool. In palaces men too shall dwell, nor shame Their dwelling, without pride as without blame ; Where all are lodged alike, all serve with tool. Pen, brush, heart, brain. For all, of wholesome food Abundance, but not for the swinish snout Of appetite ; true work for every mood. And that best wealth of all, beyond all doubt, A pure mind in pure body, the chief good, That moulds man in God's true similitude. None will seek wealth, none envy, none desire ; At Mammon's shrine no more shall Avarice fall, For what is private wealth to National ? Riches that o'er his fellows lift not higher. But mock themselves, self-surfeited expire. All hearts shall have a larger scope and call. All Science be more high-majestical ; All Work be quickened with a finer fire To finer issues. Painting, whose proud head To private doorways stooped, shall pace erect Thro' palace-portals, and her canvas spread Large as a nation's life. The Architect Shall, build for ages, like the Faith now dead And cold ; and Music earth with heaven connect ! 14 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; Who was it sowed the seed, who first did plough The golden furrows that, touched by the sun. Glow, smoke, and say, "The Promised Day's begun?" The incense of that labour doth his brow. Struck by God's light, as halo'd with it show ! The holiest incense altar ever won ; The incense of man's mind, when, high work done, God says, " Well done : come thou unto Me now." Else hard their lot who serve Man's thankless race ; Small recognition have they from the crowd, Who reap that precious harvest of God's grace Like common grain ; their greatness like a shroud Hides them, till, raised up as one dead, the place That no more knows them, hears them speak aloud ! HIDDEN THINGS. Is shining bright behind a cloud a scorn? Is breathing perfume where are none to smell ? Or what the right hand does, and left won't tell, And serving God in secret, lot forlorn ? Poets there are who soar, as lark to morn, And sing at heaven's gate, whose throats yet swell Far out of sight and hearing with a spell To which God listens as to soul new-born. Some in their hearts a livelong poem are, Yet without recognition, save on high ; They shine in secret beauty, like a star Far off, which yet lends light to guide us by. And while dull mists of earth from worldlings bar Its light, it shines to consecrated eye ! THE SONNET. In this strait-waistcoat of poor fourteen lines Our Shakspear cramped his mighty intellect. 'Tis as if Ocean should confines elect. Like tributary streams ; Golconda's mines Contract their splendours to one gem that shines With fraction'd lustre ; or great kings reject Th' imperious sceptre, and instead select The pastoral crook. But genius all refines. He in that circumscription still could move A chartered libertine, and spirits raise, By his " so potent art " all rules above, In that small charmed circle ; to the rays Of his fine wit it did a focus prove — A wheel, whose rondure close confine doth brace. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 15 THE SEA. Well I remember what I felt, a child, When first I saw the Ocean ; when his wave My youthful soul its first true baptism gave. The baptism of the spirit undefiled. Oh how my soul sprung forth to meet the wild And cleansing waters, and all taint to lave By that ablution, as if thus to have A new birth, tho' in rituals not so styled. Of ritualistic ceremonies, whereby The Devil and the flesh I had forsworn Vicariously, I had faint memory ; But the sea's baptism sent me forth new-born. And when upon me Custom's yoke doth lie, I think of that, and fling it off with scorn. GREAT AUTHORS. I love to read a work of mighty mind Off at a spell, and master it — a Whole, Ay, " one entire chrysolite ;" a goal Wherein my soul sustaining sense may find Of loftiest work completed, end designed. Then build I up a temple for my soul, Not piecemeal, with no fixed plan to control ; And contemplating I grow like in kind. Noiseless the work, as angels went about ; No sound of axe or hammer, in some sense Like thine, Jerusalem ! No worldly rout Doth enter there ; but with fit audience, Tho' few, I worship, and the pure incense Fills all within — and sotne too passeih out! "ENTAIL TO HEIRS SPECIAL." Oh strive not thou, vain Man, to tie the feet And hands of Time ! His mighty wings do make Free spaces, that Humanity may take New leases of itself, nor grow effete From numbing custom, stiffening in one seat. One posture. Like a reed his strong wings break Thy poor self-ends, and forecast for self's sake : He flies, not thine, but God's work to complete ! Vain schemers, with your parchments and your deeds. That "work on leases of short-numbered hours," And would "entail" the world on outworn creeds ! Blind moles, that work in earth for higher powers ! Ye work your folly outwards for the seeds Of Truth to take root with God's sun and showers ! i6 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE PREMATURE DEATH OF KEATS. O prodigal Nature ! wherefore didst thou make This pearl of price, this gem of poesy, Worthy the diadem of the Most High, And set it, as if for more mock and ache, Upon the forehead of the age ; then break, With thousandfold worse waste than that whereby Famed Cleopatra drank, in mockery, Th' historic pearl, her thirst of pride to slake ? 'Twas little unto thee ! Thy treasuries Are ever full, or refilled at thy will : Thou sweep'st the board — king, knight, pawn ; what not ? wise Or fool ; — and their brief parts re-mak'st to fill : Yet thy regardless hand but seldom tries Its utmost art, in secHung waste, to kill ! THE " STRONG-MINDED WOMAN." (14) Hybrid art thou ! Nature mistook her plan In thee, and boggled — then, as half in shame, Little of Woman left thee, save the name, (Sweet name abused !) and still less of the Man ! Thou gain'st a loss — art shorter by more span ; Two opposite natures in thee freeze and flame, Two distincts, either — neither, not one same ! We wonder how thou endest, how began ! 'Tis Woman with a fishy terminal — An angel of half darkness and half light — A thing amphibious, which the waters call Not fish ; nor the land flesh, of any right. How got'st thou into Noah's Ark ? we all Know well, alas ! thou didst get out, thou fright I O dearest Woman 1 all sweet thoughts in one ; Let me perfume my lips with your sweet name, And all the sweet additions to the same ; Wife, sister, mother, nurse, friend, I should run On in a maze, as 'twere, and ne'er have done. Nor find my way out, till one of you came, And on her one perfection fixed my aim. Round which our life should move, as earth round sun! Thou hast thy rights, dear Woman, noblest rights ! At thy p7ire breast we drink life's purest stream. And taught aright \.\\qvq fron the first, the heights Of Being climb, and half angelic seem. God for His " little ones" your care requites, And Man as ministering angels will esteem ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 17- VENICE. Great Venice, in her pride of time and place, Grand actor on large stage, and with a soul High-pitched, to match her hi<,di historic role And rule amphibious, that with Janus-face Looked each way, and in east and west left trace Perdurable ; to bind to her control The mighty sea, and make him hers and whole, Contract in solemn nuptials, did embrace : With fateful ring and ceremonial high Majestic, she was wedded to her sea. Beyond divorce, Fortune to lease thereby ! But seas are fickle ! Thy fresh love sought he, O England, tho' no ring the union tie : God grant it be not paramours with thee ! "EPICCENE," OR "STRONG-MINDED WOMEN" AGAIN. These are the " foolish virgins," for their "rights " Clamouring so loudly, like the Homeric cranes ; Their tongues far better furnished than their brains. These have not known, or knowing, treat with slights And unconcern, the consecrate delights Of holy unions : their unblessed veins Maternal blood not fill?, to raise their pains And pleasures ; Love's sweet shadows and high lights Their landscape lacks. Vain babblers ! rights you have • And duties. Yours to educate mankind ; To make it pious, pure, self-scorning, brave ; To give speech to the dumb, sight to the blind ! Teach the child right — that right God Himself gave — And woman, righted, in the man the child will find ! Dress not the innocents up as popinjays, Pies, parrokeets, and apes, to make them fools Before their time, in Folly's " Infant-schools !" Ay, ere their lips' sweet lisp sweet " mother " says ; Ere in their mind's soft mould God's name finds place ! Let Nature shape their limbs; their hearts, wise rules; And, best of all, examples : with such tools Ye may mould forms with every human grace, And some divine ! In their fresh innocence Rear them, without " these bastard signs of fair," Like the sweet flowers, to be, without pretence ! Ape the wise beasts and birds with Nature's sense ! Give them pure, simple tastes and food, and their Wise lives will consecrate your influence ! C i8 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; ON THE DEATH OF MY FRIEND, MAJOR G. P. THOMAS. (15) The Pagans offered victims, ox or sheep Or goat, on sensuous altars, grossly reared To fabled gods ; but he, oh he ! endeared To all by gifts of spirit sweet and deep, Himself a ready sacrifice did keep For nobler altar, nobler victim, cheered By " Duty;" in such hearts sublimely sphered, Tho' cypress crown, not laurel, all they reap. Alas ! were children orphaned but for this, For this wife widowed ? Even so ! repine Not at the price of all that noblest is; No dross of earth e'er purchased aught divine. This star its rays of purest light would miss, Did it less purged for our beholding shine ! ON THE DEATH OF MY FRIEND, G. P. THOMAS. O noble hand that traced these pencilled lines ! Hand that the sword and pen alike could wield, (16) And serve the gentle Muse in Mars's field, Working her royalties in Eastern mines. Soon set, thy sun, not on the ordained confines Of night, but suddenly eclipsed, did yield His place ; that darkness then first seemed revealed. As when for wonted light the blind eye pines. Was Mars then jealous of divided suit And service ? did he question of thee make, And drown with trumpet-blast the Muse's lute? Not so ! the bravest ever doth he take. And spares the coward ; tho' he struck thee mute, Thou dearer art to both for cither's sake ! WISDOM. O Time, if in those furrows of the brow And cheek the seeds of Wisdom late be sown (Folly's wild-oats long withered or o'erblown). Small space have they to bear fruit herd and now I Methinks 'twere better in the heart to plough Furrows of early wisdom, to be known By earlier fruits, from seeds in time there thrown The early and latter rain of grace t' allow. Poor Wisdom ! late and little thus to bear ; Against its own thorns its sad heart to press. Not teaching wiser use of all things fair : Goodness is counterpart of happiness. Our passions, 'd'ild, rear, plunge, and beat the air ; Trained, life in act, use set, nor wisdom less. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 19 "NEC FONTE LABRA PR0LUICABALLIN0,"&c.(i7) My Helicon flows from no fabled height, No Pegasean stroke the ground doth need; Lowly its source, but as it doth proceed Come inspirations full of song and light. With music like a hymn and willing might, Full many a mill it turns, and toils to feed The hungry, clothe the naked, and to breed Plenty and peace, in the taskmaster's sight. Grass springs ; herds, golden furrows, stately trees Arise ; the cottage, hamlet, steepled town ; And citied Commerce, mirrored in it, sees Her face, in confluent majesty as down It sweeps to life's great ocean, not to cease From toil, but earn anew toil's noble crown. THE FURNACE TEST. Into this oven do I put this clay Of frail mortality, with twofold fire Of Faith and Genius, making it transpire And sweat its frailties out ; that so it may, A vessel purified, be fit to lay On Truth's high altar, ever sweeter, higher The incense of its every desire, The while the earthlier part slow burns away. Alas ! it may not stand the heat divine. But cracks and flaws ; and the old Adam shows His image in it. Lord, instead of Thine, Which in the cooling like the vessel grows ; As duller from within that light doth shine. And duller in that heat the coarse clay glows ! PLATFORM WOMEN. O Woman ! half-unsexed when loud and bold, Mooting, on Modesty's o'er-balanced edge, " Questions " mo.it epiccene — the quickset hedge Of nice regard disposed full cheap to hold ; 'Twill prick thee, tho' the safeguard of the fold To those within, great Nature's solemn pledge, Thy sex's regis and high privilege, The very Cestus of thy manifold And blushing graces ! Oh, tliy smile, sweet mouth. Should only ope to utter gentlest things Of blessed influence, like the sweet South : When it does other, Love shows he has wings ; 'Tis as the rose's lips should breathe, from drouth Of heavenly dews, ill odours, and not Spring's. C 3 20 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LONDON. Stand in Hyde Park when darkness sight doth bound , And hear the roar subdued of that vast life, And say, is Ocean more sublime in strife And calm, or pealing thunders ? No ! that sound Falls on the inner ear, hath more profound Significance, with inner meanings rife ; It is the ceaseless hum from tliat vast hive Of industry, that swarms out all around. Over the earth ; the ebb of that great sea Of souls, whose tides are human hopes and fears, Concentric with all Being's wider spheres. The hither shore is Time : tho' hidden be The other, thence, thro' all else, my soul hears The far-borne ground-swell of Eternitie ! MIND AND MATTER. You talk of things "material" — disparage The work of hand as mere " mechanical," Mere craftsman's work, compared with what you call Genius, the mental instruments. Each stage Is needful — leads to next. A pupillage Man's mind must pass thro' ; ere fly, crawl And walk : low aids make great things out of small ; The kind hand which flings wide the dooro' the cage ! Look at the types, so quaint and primitive, Of Guttenberg and Faust ! yet in them lie Those " winged words" the "gift of tongues" that give To Thought ; speech to the dumb ; to the blind, eye. The " Rail " makes one man many lives to live ; And Thought itself is Electricity ! HORA FUGIT; HOC QUOD LOQUOR INDE EST. Like whirling wheel-spokes days on days run round ; While the great "driving-wheel" of all, the year, With lesser " wheels within wheels," sphere in sphere, Tho' slower, works with all his might, with sound Of sphery thunder, as to time strict-bound, " Indentured," under eye of overseer. The great Taskmaster, who permits none here To idle, or doth punish, if so found. A " treadmill " to the idle is that wheel ; " Pleasure" sought for itself is " toil : " unearned Man nothing claims ; it were as easy steal Our daily bread as bliss. This lesson learned Is more than fortune, for 'tis health and weal. Thus opposites meet and extremes are re-turned ! OR, MOODS OF iMIND. 21 THE RANGE OF BEING. When I look up to those bright orbs on high, Through boundless interspace of region-blue ; Like cahn, all-searching eyes they look me through And through, and crush me with immensity ! Amid a fathomless abyss stand I, Above, below. The Milky Way like dew- Soft strews the azure ; telescopic view, The eye of Science, doth but multiply ! And what is Man ? In the God-conscious grade The least ; upon that Jacob' s-ladder he Stands on but the first step ; he has but made One move from Beast, the next-wise in degree Doth "gall his kibe," nor room between we see I Upwards, the range at God alone is stayed ! TOO FAR AND FAST. O ye precursive minds, that run before The age, and take Time by the forelock, ye Hard lines must look for, and as hidden be. Till Time shall solve your hieroglyphic lore. Ye must shine inwardly, content thro' door And window some {&\n rays should pass out free, Enough to light the darkness, not to see The way, to work that new vein of fine ore. Pass on ! tho' those ye serve do heed ye not. While those whose gods of clay ye overthrow Would curse you, and your name from memory blot. That name shall lie a word of power, and grow ; And strangers from afar shall seek the spot Where " his own " did not the true prophet know ! FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT, Step out, with " right face forward ; " keep the line, Ye Nations, of combined Humanity ! " Peace " is the banner's watchword ; the Most High Hath traced it there in characters divine ; 'Tis writ with stars, with living light doth shine Upon that field of azure legibly. The true " star-spangled banner" of the sky — " Peace upon earth, goodwill to men," its sign ! On then, ye Nations, to new victories ; Of knowledge over ignorance, of good O'er evil, of God's truth o'er human lies ! No need of violence, no drop of blood ; The stars fight with you in their courses : would God, then, not mercy have, but sacrifice ! 22 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; POESY. O Poesy, to this the daily bread Of our dulled spirits thou the leaven art, Raising and sweetening it in every part, Till we seem as with manna to be fed. And as to Christ angels once ministered. So thou, at humblest distance, balmest smart. To finest issues touchest brain and heart. And liftest, as with wings, our heavy tread. Oh what were Life without thee ! what were Love Itself! 'Tis thou distill'st his rose-dew breath, And featherest his arrows from the dove ; And when, in this our trial with Time and Death, His roses fall, Lnmortellcs from above Thou intertwinest with Earth's fading wreath ! THE UPRIGHT JUDGE. O thou, who steadiest Right 'twixt voluble tongue And tongue, who know'st when Half is more than Whole, And rather lean'st towards Equity's large goal Than Law's fox-shifts and windings, which make long The road, best travelled by the rich and strong, Whose many gates of poverty take toll So oft, 'tis like the game of knave and fool, Where Justice, blind of one eye, winks at wrong With the other. Thou hold'st poised above the land. With firm, yet nicest equilibrium. Those scales, upon whose beam Justice doth stand ; The stay of this world and the world to come. Thy ermine should to touch of angeFs hand Be spotless, as the Church's lavvn to some ! "SACRI VATES, ET DIVtM CURA VOCAMUR." True Seers, benefactors of mankind. High is your mission ! ever in the van Of Time, with him ye trace the mighty plan. And put the clue, like those who lead the blind, In laggard hands, that grope for Truth behind. That spark divine Prometheus' torch began, With airs from heaven Poesy must fan, And mould Man aye afresh with fire of mind ! Faith and Imagination are your wings. Of equal stroke, nor less can lift above This earth ; the gift of tongues large knowledge brings. Wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove ! Who seeks the sun of Truth with less, shall prove His wings, like Icarus, poor waxen things ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 23 KINDLY AGE. Some grow old with a grace ; the " Christmas-rose"' Klooms on their bare December— ahnost seems Of a new spring precursive ; their eye gleams Like sunsets of good promise, kindly shows Their histy winter, cheery 'mid its snows. Nature her elements mixed well ; no dreams Distempered blur their minds' Serene— no themes Scare, teasing out of thought. Sleep from their brows. Their pulse makes temi^erate music, unto which, Their truest measure. Health and Pleasure dance ; And their contented minds are more than rich ! Ambition gnaws not, nor that game of chance, Called "Fortune," strains to its mad "concert-pitch" Their heart-strings ; nor wild Passion's dalliance. UNKINDLY AGE. But some do wrestle every inch o' the way. For life and death, with Time, and pluck him by The forelock, his untiring speed t' outvie ; Their hearts before their heads oft turning grey 3 And tho', if fighting " the good fight " he may Not quite prevail, yet doth he smite their thigh. Like Jacob's, and to death they then come nigh ; Yet haply "face to face" with him may say, " I have seen God ! " Like him in this form then Time, ere they let him go, doth bless them too, Blessing beyond all bless and bliss of men ! They shall prevail with God, and under new And grander name their name come back again. As Jacob Israel, for they wrestled tme ! WORLD MUSIC The finer music of Humanity Is seldom heard ; it rolls far overhead, That solemn harmony of all the dead And living, filling earth and reaching sky, And joins the concert there responsively, The concert of the spheres— tliat quire led By God Himself ; by those inteipreted. The chosen few, who listen inwardly. On thro' the ages strong it sweeps the sphei^e, And those who have its deep harmonics caught, Are high-commissioned, ordain'd singers here. They are the accepted poets, who have brought, Transposed in minor key, some snatches clear : The rest is lost ; beyond all ear, all thought ! STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON SHAKSPEAR'S POEMS. Oh when in blank that all-divinest page Lay characterless, who could have divined The thoughts that breathe which that creative mind Set there, in words that bum, M'ith noble rage. Presaging " all the world should be his stage ! " 'Tis as a space of blue, all-undefined, Shone all with stars one by strange chance might find. Or, out of hope, a goodly heritage. And such was thine, my England ! Chaucer's star, Thy morning-star, rose on a lurid sky, Streaked red for civil war, and clouds that bar The fuller day ; but Shakspear fell on high And palmy days, which Art's best nurses are : Nature had rest, on him her hand to try ! THE SERVICE OF THE MUSES. O Pegasus, whose hoof most musical From the charm'd rock struck the responsive spring ; Who mak'st, with wafture of thy rhythmic wing, Sweet airs from heaven c?esural rise and fall ; Thou art not splenetic, wild and fantastical, As some report, when thou, enfranchising That neck the Muses' selves caress, dost fling The rein in scorn from unpoetieal Presumptuous hands ! Docile art thou, tho' proud And mettlesome, to the true poet-hand. In motion gentle as a summer-cloud ; Ready at noon of day or night to stand Or fly ; or when Parnassus' top mists shrond, And dewy Morn stands tiptoe, zephyr-fanned ! (i8) A SPRINGTIDE SUNDAY. They pass before my window, young and old. Along the street, with Sabbath talk and dress : Infant in arms its mother's heart doth bless, That blessing ever new, yet never old ! The father walks beside ; the youth doth press His sweetheart's hand, and dreams of happiness ; . The children sport ; and life with its sweet stress Constrains man's heart, like the flowers, to unfold. God bless them all, and "grant their honest wills, Which seasons comfort ! " Tho' my heart be lone. Yet from the fulness of their joy it fills Itself, and makes their happiness its own. 'Tis selfishness which dries up all and kills ; Love strikes the rock, the living waters run ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 25 A HINT TO POETS. As is the fuel, so the fire ; small flame Ill-fed, and with the Muse's breath too scant To blow it to that height where it will want But little more to keep it at the same — A hasty fire of thorns, the Muse's shame, O'er which its own smoke mounts predominant. So thou go'st out like a vile snuff; — dost rant, And take in vain the Muse's holy name ! But when the fuel 's much, the fire is fierce ; It burns thro' all, and setteth all ablaze; And, like " the burning bush," the poet's verse Glows in the light divine, which thro' it plays. " A burning bush," too, in the Universe He sees, thro' which God shines, else a dark maze. Sow early and reap late ; those furrows plough, Those golden furrows which, at break of dawn, Smoke and send up their incense to the morn, Smit by the sun ; who doth their tilth endow With procreant warmth, with covenant and vow Of harvestry, the Muse's wine and corn. Glean where fools empty pass ; think it not scnrn To ask of bee and ant : Wisdom looks low ! Lay thy ear close to earth, haply thou'lt hear The grass grow ; leastways the grasshopper's song. " That is not much ! " 'Tis all ; 'tis truth of ear, Of heart ; who misses that hath something wrong. Sow broadcast, even on the waters : fear Thou not ; 'twill come back, and tenfold, ere long ! A SPRINGTIDE MORNING. Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of bliss Complex, unspeakable ; — not only mine, But that of many ; man, bird, flock, herd, kine ; Tame and free livers ; to the lark which is Missioned by earth, glad messenger of peace, At heaven's dewy gates to sing. Divine The occasion ; decked is Nature like a shrine ; For heaven doth bow itself the earth to kiss, A kiss of peace ! O God, my heart o'erflows ; Full, like a cup of sacramental wine, With sense of all Thy mercies ! The wine glows And kindles ; 'tis all Thine, O God, not mine ; And so I drink, for Thy hand holds it close ! Thyself, as thro' ' ' the burning bush, " dost shine ! 26 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; SHAKSPEAR OLD. O Shakspear, had life's precious lease but run To Sophoclean span, (19) or even to The threescore years and ten, the common due, How had its golden pilgrimage thy sun Mellowed to solemn splendour, till, its course done, It set to man, having lighted him well thro' His " Seven Ages ;" leaving to our view Completed Whole, for great comparison ! With age e'en thy large soul had much to gain ; Eye see ; ear hear ; heart feel ; long memoiy. Bee-like, full-fill that precious hive, thy brain ! Thou taught'st us how to live ; but age hath high, Hard revelations man's proud heart to train : Then haply thou hadst taught us how to die ! HINT TO POETS. Store thy mind full of knowledge ; hive aright The honey of experience ; thy heart With feelings gathered from life's every part ; Great, small ; high, low ; ear, taste, touch, smell, and sight ; Like the sea-sand, one and yet infinite. And as the rude sea that doth beat athwart Till flood, then falls from height, be counterpart ; So hold thine own, the world's rude shocks and spite Against, as undefiled ! Be as the diamond, Which nothing of less temper cuts or mates ; With that serener light fiWtd from beyond, Be your eye single, looking thro' all states To God. High is your calling, then respond ; Spare not your sweat, your blood ; love, tho' the world hales ! ON A MISSING PORTRAIT. The picture-frame is empty ! fair the brede Of flowers, scrollwork, carven imageries; Casket most precious, fit for gem of price. But where is that the formless blank doth need, WHiich wanting, 'tis a clasped book none can read ? On my mind's eye, Aurora-like, there rise Form, features, face divine, that might entice A Raphael's hand to outdo all it did. Greater than he the painter, and than her The painted ; her, his Fornarina : Love Tried his own hand there — Love, the flatterer. Those chestnut-locks with sunshine intenvove. To those sweet eyes did all himself transfer, And fluttered in that heart, a gentle dove ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 27 SCEPTICISM. O Faith, if once thou fall'st, thou fall'st, alas ! Colossus-like, and strewest far and wide The world with ruins ! Erst, between thy stride, To harbourage the world's great fleets did pass, And struck their sails, safe 'neath thy towering mass. To all who o'er Life's region-waves would ride Safe oh great quests, gi'and sea-mark and sure guide ! Which that Colossus famed of Rhodian brass But faintly imaged ; and as that, laid low By earthquake, little fetched as metal old, The disbelieving world would sell thee so ; Head turned with sophistries, and heart grown cold, For a vile mess of pottage it would throw Away thy heritage, and count the gold ! OLD AGE. If it be hard to learn, how harder far To unlearn ! This is the sad lot of age ; The hardest penance in that pilgrimage — Either with dull Oblivion to war. And with those younger strengths that placed are On the forefront and vantage of the stage, Or fall into the abject rear, and page The heels of Time, and cast-off fashions wear ! 'Tis a hard lot, yet needful ; all moves off, Or on. Life, like a mighty whirlwind, blows From the great threshing-floor the dust, and chaff. And wastes of Time, who doth old texts new gloze, Rewrite old histories, at fables laugh, And mortgages in his own right foreclose ! ANCIENT GREECE. That noble race that struck the precious ore Of human thought, and the best veins o' the mine Well nigh worked out, and wrouglit it up so hne That we can neither better nor add more ; With that large wisdom of which they had store, Did not to mind alone their cares confine, But perfect made th' outward and visible shrine, Sound mind in body sound, sound to the core. Wiser than we whose " sterling" worth is gold; Who give " to dust that is a little gilt, More laud than gold o'er-dusted ;" running full tilt 'Gainst God's wise laws ; with empty names cajoled ! Dwellers pale in cavernous cities, built For Mammon's serfs, not freemen strong and bold ! 28 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; BEING. Man moves on inner circles ; very small, And yet concentric with that mighty Whole Where worlds on worlds, like wheels within wheels, roll, And music in their motion make, to all For whom the eye hath music to enthral, As the ear others. Some still higher goal Of Being reached, that music our poor dole Of speech may shame, language majestical, Of soul expressive ! Music even here Sounds as a mystic, unlearned language might, A language as of gods ; beings all ear. All eye ; one both the telescope their sight And microscope ; to them no Far or Near ; Their sight is single : all is God ; all light I PROGRESS. None can keep up with Time. The greatest minds In some sort are " the fly upon the wheel," As to mere knowledge : noiseless Time doth steal A march on them ; the famed discoverer finds (Who from new lights aside draws Nature's blinds), His own discoveries himself conceal. And grander truths to lesser minds reveal. Explorers vantaged by*these great trade-winds. Yet some shine on, grand sea-marks unto all Who the great deeps of knowledge navigate ; Colossus-like, beneath their stride the small Adventurers shorten sail and lessen state. Yet but for these, and of each the rich freight, The gi-eatest would show less majestical ! PHYSICAL DEVELOPMENT. This body is the temple of the mind, Which industry in beauty should uphold, As the great Architect designed, t' unfold His image in. Almost as well be blind. As when the mind and body themselves find At odds. With morbid senses, growing old Before his time, Man looks on all with cold Lack-lustre eye and heart ; blindness in kind As in degree the worst ! The Genius mark, (20) Whom a club-foot, as fiend's to him, could blast And warp, and that excess of light make dark, With sad eclipse : hence scoff and sneer came fast ; Slander to woman, scorn to man ; with cark And care ; a Future lost, and marred a Past ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 29 BEN JONSON. " O rare Ben Jonson ! " rare at fence of wit And foil ; match for all foes with sword or pen ; For the Devil with the one, with t'other men. For the Devil too in 's best disguise, when it Assumes a virtue, tho' with an ill fit ; Or masks a sin so well, it tricks his ken, Tho' soon or late he comes by his own again, And " Hypocrite" writes large ; " Sir Biter Bit ! " Ay, " Volpone," well in thee that mask he lifts ! He too in qualities was learned, well versed In human dealings, and great Nature's gifts Put to large interest : he had rehearsed I' the rough and ruck of life, that spirits sifts. Its many parts, and knew Man's best and worst ! THE LOOKS. The face is the heart's autotype : 'tis there In shorthand writ in every lineament ; In moods and scowls, that wrap up ill intent As black clouds thunder. Impudence doth stare Unwinking ; anger flush up brow, and flare In eye ; sweet Peace looks calm, Truth innocent ; Love, still at hide and seek, to cheek hath sent That tell-tale blush ; sour Envy thence doth scare Or force the smile. Then with all diligence Keep thou thy heart, O Man ! Wear not a mask ; Let honest face show in 't without pretence Like heart. Truth in that sunshine loves to bask ; For truth, in Man or Woman, hath most scent And taste of goodness ; this Life most doth ask ! THE ENGLISH DRAMA. Thou didst not crawl to slow maturity. Muse of the mask, with buskin on one foot. Sock on the other, face to either suit ; With smiles upon thy lip, tears in thine eye ; Now holding both thy sides, now heaving sigh " Nine fathom deep," and sad as funeral-mute ; All things to all men ; now in motley coat, Now cassock, Tartufle-like, demure and sly. Thou didst not creep long in thy petty pace, But fly almost as soon as walk the stage. Need was of all thy growth as all its space. When Time cried, marking " Shakspear" on the page Just turned, foreshadowed in his magic-glass, " My ward this, till, Fame's heir, he come of age ! " 30 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ALL IS CHANGE. O God, this whirl and rush of change the brain Half stun, and, like a millstream, drive each \vhecl Of thought, till with the noise and motion reel Our very senses, and to think is pain. There is no Sabbath-rest ; that holy gain Of health to body, and the soul's all-heal, The world doth filch, and more than good name steal, That without which good name itself is vain, Good name's intrince ! (21) But Good comes out of Til; A wiser race, unto the manner born, Shall music draw from locomotive's shrill Harsh whistles, tuneable their wheels shall turn ! (22) And Labour, measurable, raise, not chill Man's life, and Man be neither scorned nor scorn ! POESY. O Poesy, they take thy name in vain, Who think to understand thee with low wit. And wings that, bat-like, in poor twilight flit, Of " Common Sense. " To blind men we in vain Delights of sight describe, the rich domain Of eye — to deaf, of ear : unraised they sit. So, Poesy, with thee ; thou dost not hit Dull sense, and worst dull are dull heart and brain. But he whose wit is quick and forgetive, Whom her least breathings lift above this dim Low earth with airs from heaven, free to live An elemental life, where space and time Are not, and the world's flaming bounds o'erstrive, That spirit, dumb to those, will speak to him ! LIVINGSTONE AND WESTMINSTER ABBEY This cup memorial (might I not say Cup sacramental, almost ?) of the love And sorrow which a nation's heart now move. Runs over ; runs to waste, too, in a way. On these cold Abbey stones ; 'neath which we lay His earthly part, with names, like stars, above Their kind, since all its overflowings prove Of no avail to solace, save, or stay ! » This superflux of posthumous sympathy Mocks with cold irony his loneliness Of heart. No white man's hand to close his eye ! Yet Afrique shall for this her swart hand bless ; But better where the tree falls it should lie, xVnd Afrique body, spirit, all, possess. OR, MOODS OF MIND. Of great Themistocles the tomb of old Was Greece itself : let Africa be his ; Not this or that spot — all I 'Tis but to miss The letter for the spirit. Let her hold In her gi-and dusky bosom, never cold To grow, those ashes. For more hers he is Than hers who bore. Her swarthy lips should kiss, Her torrid heart in close embrace enfold, His shrined memory. O Africa ! The milk of human kindness not less fills Thy swarthy breasts ; and though thy children are In bonds, and Cain his brother sells and kills. With Christ's that name shall thy dark lips unbar — A word of power, enduring as the hills ! Though dead now in the flesh, he yet shall have A posthumous birth, a resurrection grand, His spirit walk abroad, fill all the land ; To simple faith, as risen from the grave ! 'Twere strange did England such a son not crave, And for his hallowed ashes stretch her hand ; Fling open wide her temple-gates, and stand In awe, and say ; " Pass in, thou good and brave That cloud of noble witnesses, all there. Would welcome, both add honour and receive. Yet, since but dusky faces round him were. Black hands (not hearts) the last sad service give, He in that land should rest, no matter ivhere ; He would, an universal Presence, live ! 'Tis natural that she who bore should yearn For all that now remains of such a son. The breast should crave him dead he drew life on ; For precious are the ashes of such urn. Which ne'er grow cold, but, kindling others, bum I That great soul left great task greatly begim ; In contrast strange with that but just now done ! (23) The Word and Sword alike have had their turn ! With the one hand we save, with th' other smite ; The Word shall break the Sword, as day break night. While, for that grander future (beyond these Brief tears and yearnings) which grows on my sight, I would that land possessed him all in peace. Now dead, which when alive possessed him quite. 32 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; And for thee, O my England, I would say He might have been a presence 'mongst us now. If for him, while still of the living, thou Hadst done as much as for him dead this day. Thou makest wail, and call'st on death to play Less perfunctorily thy part ! Bier, brow, With vain Immortelles strew'st, yet didst allow The strangers' feet to show thy love the way. Somewhat too slow thy hand is, though it be (Once opened) like a Cornucopia ; Yet too late is too late ;' and so with thee. A nation's noblest heritage by far Are souls men bow fkeir souls to, not their knee, Yet, till they're gone, scarce know how great they are. This lesson, England, thou hast leam'd but ill. Thy gratitude hath followed backwardly On the heel of merit, like a hound chidden by A churlish master — servile to his will, Yet ready at a word to fawn and spill Its best blood for him. Often, too, hath thy Large heart, late-stirred, redeemed atoningly The errors which thy head committed still. Now with a nation's tears, now with its blood, The dust of proud humanity is laid ;'(23) And now with both, as in our present mood. Dear England ! with these precious tears, new made, And new baptized to human brotherhood, Take thy Black brother by the hand, and aid. ENGLAND. Thy two great paps are full and overflow. Commerce and Agriculture ; milk thou out, That those may suck that hang thy breasts about, And climb about thy knees ; apace they grow. And like true fruit of thy large womb tliey show. Sea-Cybele, thy breasts know yet no drought, Nor shut thy womb : have thou no fear nor doubt, But round the world thy great arms, zonelike, throw ! Oh may that Sea, who holds his flattering glass To empires, till. Narcissus-like, they fall In love with their own images, and pass Away like vanities, not so enthral, But show thee thy defects, and thou have grace To mend them, till the World thee perfect call I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 33 THE MUSES AND HYGEIA. O Muse, with morning's breath to fan thy wing, Climb thou the East, and join Aurora, when With dream-dispersing pinions she, o'er glen, And wood, and mountain, from her lap doth fling Her earhest roses ; with the lark there sing, And charm, tho' lost to sight, the ears of men. And when thou touchest this rapt earth again, It will break forth in a Castalian spring. O Health ! 'tis thine in hearts kept fresh to hive, Like the bag o' the bee, all sweets, all relish fine ; All quintessential extracts thence derive ; Th' Hyblean flavours of Life's honey thine ! Thou gone, we with an Evil spirit strive. Not disguised Angel, for a prize divine ! Oh prize divine indeed ! Hygeia, Thy ways are ways of pleasantness and peace, Tho' strive Man must, nor from "the good fight " cease. In thy eclipse Faith hangs not her pole-star Aloft ! Hope beckons us not from afar ! Our pleasures are still-born or run brief lease, (For what can pleasure him whom self can't please ?) Changelings, true Mother Nature scorns to rear ! The mind itself, being touched corruptibly, Takes taint of poor mortality in sign ; Hath amaurosis of the inner eye ; That Evil spirit's baleful circling line Bans Love, Muse, Graces, with dark spell and lie ; For Health is Truth, and Truth alone divine ! TO MILTON ; ON HIS TRACT AFTER CROMWELL'S DEATH. And hadst thou none to cry to, thou great soul, Bat, like the Frophet old : " O Earth, Earth, Earth! " As the dumb soil had ears which gave thee birth. When those it bore had none ! The late-reached goal O'erleapt of freedom, t'other side did roll I' the dirt of slavish sense and frivolous mirth. Those whom thy life, tongue, pen had taught its worth. Whom, tho' thou mad'st once, thou could'st not keep whole ! Baleful eclipse ! that forced thee hide that light Under a bushel : 'twas as if the sun, Untimeous set, made way for things of night. Yet not in vain that cry, tho' heed gave none : The dumb Earth caught and treasured it ; the height Of Heaven heard, and echoed back " Well done ! " D 34 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; NATURAL SELECTION. Is Man but on Gorilla an advance, As upon Ape Gorilla ; who, in turn. So small the interval some wits discern, Doth gall Man's kibe ? So that, if by good chance, Some Cadmus taught to spell, speak, read, write, dance. And a few more accomplishments ; to learn His " Genesis ;" with love, ambition, burn. Our G. " writ large," were " Man " on sufferance ! But there's a gulf, as in the Forum : can Our scientific Quintus Curtius fill The ^ffii' hiatus between Beast and Man? If he should fail 'tis want of power, not will. To find the missing link in the great plan He'd transmigrate, be half Gorilla still ! " The game's worth candle ! " If in retrospect We step into Noah's Ark, or — 'tis the same — Step out, with all that entered, wild or tame, Beast, fish, fowl, flesh, or nondescript ; select Our stock, pick, chuse, like higglers, and reject ; Would Science missing "genus," "species," name The beast half-man, the man half-beast proclaim, And reconciliation so, half-way, effect ? " Beast " rises high, and " Man " goes very low ; He has sometimes a nidimentary tail ; Prolong this "handle," Science almost so May " catch her hare," and cook it — 'tis but stale : Empedocles " Selection" did foreshow, (24) But Time drew down great Nature's half-raised veil ! Time, jealous of that wondrous Grecian brain, Whose intuition pierced all depth, all height. And from which Science leaped, a thing of light, Full-born, a new Minerva, who had lain There ready, till the world was put in train, — Time, lest he should anticipate his flight Too much, Man's knowledge too muqji expedite, Replaced the mask, and Nature hid again ! Years, thousands twain with centuries over three, And space of days unnumbered, wave on wave. Had risen, fallen, in Time's boundless sea; And now, by aid of lights the Ancient gave, The Modern's voyage of re-discovery May those forgotten truths, as brand-new, save ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. A strange scene-shifter, Time ! How strangely Man He leads, and takes him, childlike, by the hand, And puts the clue into it of this grand And wondrous world, by slow essays to span Immensity, and piece out the great plan ; There, missing planet ; here, sea, unknown land Icing the pole. As with Magician's wand, Light, electricity, heat, air, he can Make ministrant. No fabled genii ! Beyond all Fortunatus' "wishing cap," Aladdin's lamp, his daily work they ply. But his own " Genesis," whence, by what hap, — T/iat nut's to crack ! So, piqued by how and why, To make himself, Prometheus- like, he'd try 1 Yet no Japetus' high-scheming son Is he, uplooking to the source alone Of light ; his Science holds her torch right down, Like the old Genius of Death ! comparison Not re-assuring ; th' other at the sun Lit his, and were the mystery once known. That wondrous fable Truth itself would own : From spark electric Being Man first won ! This science, crablike, sidewards doth advance, And upwards-downwards. Well ! 'tis circle still. The ends must meet ; all is design, not chance. One centre the circle has, stand where you will ; There stand I, above Time and Circumstance, And with God's light my soul from all sides fill ! TO M. L. O blessed Soul, in whom all gentlest things Do meet as at Love's trysting-place : as meet, In a concerted piece of music sweet. All instruments, lip-breathed or with strings ; While each from other gains, and to each brings, A crescive sweetness, all in all complete ; Or as all hues in union blend and greet In purest light, more clear than crystal spring's. If I should call thee " Rose," the lily might, Thy next comparative for purity. Grow jealous ; if the violet have right To claim thy breath, the rose might fetch a sigh Perfumed, from envy. So, all to unite, I'll call thee " Self : " what more need you or I ? D 2 36 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; A WARNING. Still may'st thou sing to chorus of thy waves, greatest of the Oceanides, Thy song of Freedom, whose great bulwarks, seas And mountains, should be freemen's homes or graves; Best bulwarks, next to heart that all things braves For her great sake. Oh may'st thou never cease Right well to please her, as she thee to please. But Mammon — worst invader ! — too makes slaves. There lies thy danger, England ! Bulwarks vain Are seas and mountains against Luxury : Thou dost in thy own bosom entertain Thy worst of foes, whose love thy gold doth buy ; The false Dalilah, who will shear again Her Samson's locks, and make his strength a lie ! TO POETS— HAVE A GOOD LEADING-OFF RIME. (25) Take not, poetic souls, a word amiss : 1 mean the unweaned spirits of the age, Male, female, epicoene — 'tis all the rage To write ; the gentler sex, all-licensed, kiss The Muse's hands, one serving that, one this. In lyric, ode, song, pastoral ; on the stage, In sock or buskin — lively, sad, gay, sage ; Strings of its own their lyre has, which his, Proud man's, still lacks. When many sequent rimes, As in the Sonnet most, offend the ear Or please, as jangled or well rung the chimes. With bells each under other answering clear, Ring ye c?esural pauses, rhythmic times. Following sure lead, well-chosen pioneer. BOOKS. I love to see them, serried file on file, Tnith's meteor " oriflamme " above their head, The glorious host of Living and of Dead : Living, who cannot die ; Dead, who the while Yet speak, and dead and living reconcile. Thought's noble army of martyrs, who have led Men's minds, not bodies ; and whose " Word " once said, Shines like the stars, and inextinguishable ! A humble volunteer, in awe I seek Companionship, as who the Red Cross bore. Crusaders these, whose good swords cannot break, Ithuriel-spears, that pierce to Falsehood's core. A mighty shout comes down the ages : streak On streak foretells the dawn, the night is o'er ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 37 THE SPIRIT-TEMPLE ; OR, A NEW ACT IN THE WORLD'S DRAMA. An awed Communicant, this temple vast, Not built with hands, I enter ; through a gate, Fairer than that by which the "lame man" sat, Shadow of this, ''The Beautiful ! " Light cast From the blue dome, showed lamps self-kindling fast And thick ; and sweetest voices, in elate Yet solemn, fateful strains did match and mate — World-voices, which of things to be forecast ! The foremost Spirits of all times were there, All climes ; a goodly congregation ; as With tongues of fire they thrilled, till glowed the air. The " Amen " burthen of their anthem was : " Ye Heavens, bow down ! Thou Earth, for change prepare ! The Spirit of the Lord doth move and pass. " WOMEN'S RIGHTS AGAIN. Ye foolish women, prating of your rights ! Rights are but Duties ! As on coined gold Image or superscription we behold On either ia.ce, which " Sterling" thereon writes. True interchangeable value " Right " unites With " Duty : " 'tis God's coinage ; as of old So now and ever, it, with face twofold But single value, writ large for all sights His superscription shows. Rise up, ye vain, Ye foolish daughters ! on Life's threshold stand As angels, and your Little ones so train ; Like the pure lilies let their souls expand In their own innocence, and yours, nor stain Their garments with thought, look, word, deed, or touch of hand ! Walk not so daintily, nor lift the head .So high, but rather take heed to your feet. And to their ways. Not ointments make you sweet. But good deeds, which, in heaven regist'red. Shall on your lives and memories sweetness shed. Make sacred Woman's name ; as that where meet In Life's true focus all its rays complete. Pure, perfect light ; all other borrowed, Derivative of that. On th' infant mind Stamp the true image of Humanity, While yet the wax is soft and well-inclined. Let " Mother" be a talisman, whereby They may, sublimely deaf, divinely blind To evil, know it not, or hate and fly. 38 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; O ye dear Innocents ! whose heritage, Not of mere life, but of the life of life, Its very authors, who in mere blind strife With Nature, Truth, and God Himself engage, Your guides, your guardians, ere ye come of age, Squander ; not only rifling the poor hive Of present sweets, whereon the bees should thrive, But those should sweeten Life's each after-stage. Supreme of follies, wickednesses ! Yet Ye prate of rights, and would the world set right. Go, set it right ! 'tis yours : your houses set — Yourselves — in order ; let in God's pure light, Not false reflections, like a flaring gas-jet, Distorting objects, making blear-eyed sight ! Is this the vineyard of their innocence ? Ye look for grapes, and wonder that it brings Forth wild grapes, and is choked with all ill things ! Have ye well fenced it, gathered out from thence The stumbling-blocks, \h.Qjirst stones of offence ? No ! ye have left it open ; the pure springs Are left too for the unclean wallowings Of the world's swine, who trample down each fence ! " Ye have not," saith the Lord, " baptised to Me, But unto Mammon, taking My name in vain ; Sin twofold, and twofold hypocrisie ! The Pagans offered beasts their gods to gain, Your children ye, and slaves make souls born free ; Worst slaves ! who from their good know not their . bane !" i i Into your infant's tiny hand the clue Of Life at once, ye wiser mothers, place ; It is a labyrinth and ill to trace. All earthly guidance needs, and God's grace too. Weave not a web of falsehood round their new And trusting minds : errors they must retrace . With shame and pain, if they get after-grace ; ^ And if not, wander as the lost sheep do. Let all your words be truth, your looks, your deeds ; For words are things— their life soon acts the lie. The sacredness of labour, which not feeds And clothes alone, but clears the mental eye. Teach early, with all that man's life most needs. Love of all good ; Truth, Peace, Humanity 1 OR, MOODS OF MIND. 39 Keep order in yourself and in your house ; Those lesser lives, like small wheels in the great, With motions and with speeds co-ordinate, Their tiny revolutions will dispose, Unconsciously, in harmony with those. So in a watch the works, wheels, match and mate To the end that it true time may indicate : True image of a State each home thus shows. Call in the bee to teach them industry ; Like Mercy, bless'd, in self and others, twice ; Balm of hurt minds, like sleep : sleep's best ally, Not slothful down or poppies ; bid them rise With brisk Aurora, useful tasks to ply — To serve well God and Man, their best " device." VERSIFICATION. If you have trained your Pegasus aright. He'll pace it easy as steed in a sleigh, Vv'ith merry bells sweet-jingling all the way,_ About his compassed neck, curved like the light And bended bow of Phoebus, taking sight And aim ; or Cupid's, in his gentler play ; But when, " ventre a terre," as the French well say, In a fine phrenzy, scorning all that's trite, Give him his head, or— what ? he'll fling you, like A prosy " Philistine " ! In such rare mood. When at each bound his hoof doth fire strike, Or Heliconian fountain in full flood. You must be Centaur after the antique. Then sparks electric fire the brain and blood. FRIENDS INDEED ! Friends of my bosom, truest, best of friends. Of one complexion still in woe and weal. In good or ill report ; with bands of steel Oh let me clasp you to my heart, which sends After each name a beat almost transcends The love of woman ! It is yours to steal Me from myself, and life's worst wounds to heal. And touch to finer issues, higher ends. My thoughts and life. O noble brotherhood, Who over ages join your hands and hearts. The true electric band, whose currents flood And vivify all Life in all its parts — Your names stand, towers of strength, as they have stood, God's beacons o'er th' horizonless sea of Arts ! 40 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; There is a nearer kinship than of blood, A nobler birth than of the flesh — oh yes ! Not with endearments brief ; lips that caress To coldly say " farewell ; " not in such mood Are they brought forth in high similitude. With long gestation, and yet motherless, Brain-borne, Minerva-like, and in scarce less Than Jovian, come they to the birth, endued After the spirit ; of their heritage They, undisputed heirs, possession take (For none can hinder), when they come of age. None too are made tlie poorer for their sake ; None disinherited. Their wealth doth make All richer by this noblest commonage ! POESY. The kingdom of the Muses (and in this 'Tis like a higher) " suffereth violence ; " We must do outrage unto common sense, As 'twere, ere that attain which higher is ; Yet as extremes meet, these make peace and kiss. If I may speak in figures without offence, 'Tis like to Jacob's ladder ; we commence On earthlier rounds, but angels stoop from bliss High up to meet us ! So, with gentle force. We do constrain the Muse's first embrace. But love grows from permitted intercourse. And if the issue be of any grace Or promise, she will not disclaim their source, But own the mother in the true child's face ! THINGS TO BE. Dream ye the world is stereotyped, to print Copies ad iiifniitiim to the end Of time of your poor selves ; "repeats," to spend Base life for Mammon, and to set like flint Your face, till Mercy her sweet self can't see in 't ? Whilst fools and knaves get Devil's dividend ; And Sybarites their caterer, Luxury, send East, west, to buy new pleasures without stint For jaded lives ! Another frame of things. Fashion and scope of being, God designs ; Views clearer of Life's ends will give Man wings To reach them — purer ore yield nobler mines — • Motives change ends ; new, trae, the Future brings — Life, which all true wealth, without 7nock, combines ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. £,1 POETS. Poets there are of chisel, brush, style, pen. One can with brick and stone shape forms divine, Sublime the whole, grace in each ilowing line, Whose very stones preach, stir the hearts of men, And make them feel on earth from heav'n not alien ; The Painter comes — dull walls no more confine. Landscapes expand and glow, in whose sunshine Hearts city-caged, like freed birds, take wing then ! The Sculptor from rude block of marble calls Forms that scarce need the gift divine of speech The Poet gives ; then from their pedestals Their "w^ord" goes forth, and far their hands do reach ! But greater he whose life to earth's poor thralls (Best poem) how to live and die can teach ! TRUTH. Truth is of noblest lives the noblest aim, Of nations or of one ; it is God's light. The beacon-light of safety, on a height, The heights of Time. Oh, keep it then the same In view of all men ; like the antique flame Symbolical, let none but purest sight Behold, hands tend it ; vestals all in white, True vestals of the soul, in life and name Unchallenged ! Let it not go out, nor hide Under a bushel, for that eye put out Of life, men, nations, lose their one true guide, And fight with God, till He turns them about. A Nemesis stands ever at Truth's side, Woe to the Man, to nations shame and rout ! (26) In thy small individual circle keep That sacred fire alight, to guard the shrine Of home, a talisman to thee and thine. Have no false gods there ; for thou canst not reap To Truth and sow to Mammon ; thence, too, sweep All thine " eidola ; " Fortune's lures resign ; And if round thy Penates there should twine The false world's tendrils, root them out, tho' deep, Deep as thy heart ! And thou true statesman, who Shin'st on the forehead of the age, a star To guide the world, serve heart and soul the True ! A sure phylactery it is to bar Misfortune. Wear it like a frontlet too Between thine eyes, of men seen near and far ! 42 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO SHAKSPEAR, UPON HIS PLAYING "KNO' WELL" IN BEN TONSON'S COMEDY. (27) As one who into sunshine from the shade Comes sudden, may misjudge of magnitude, Proportion, which in the false glare elude True seeing, and, in consequence, hath made False estimate and measure ; so I said, When Shakspear's sun from poor self-shade I viewed, Dazzled, and not from where I slunild have stood. That he as " Kno' well " but a small part played. Forgive my misappreciation, thou Whose greatness I weighed by my littleness, . Having no counter-weight such bulks to show ! The stage's repertory doth possess No greater part than that which thou play'dst so ; That part the man made great, not th' actor less ! (28) POETICAL ACCOUCHEMENTS. Gestation of the spirit, in its kind The birth-throes, smooth or ill delivery, With th' otlier sort hath some analogy. The issue safe delivered, the freed mind Like the body, feels relief, therein doth find A satisfaction and serenity : Can trace the parentage ; the father's eye, Speech, trick of action ; kindly blind To doubtful birth-marks. Sometimes there is need Of a Csesarean operation, when The parent issue leaves of posthumous pen And brain. Still-born sometimes ; or, better dead, Half-idiot ! Sometimes, too, the Muse ails; then Were barren womb less evil than ill breed. MY LIBRARY. Beloved friends, I seek you once again ; Admit me to your sacred presence : here I feel myself oviCQ more. My brain grows clear ; These walls expand, a temple's size attain. The "Open-sesame," which can constrain Its lofty gates with music like the sphere To give admission, I have learned. My ear Catches a hum and murmur like the main. " The peaceful lords of spiritual fame" — The only title Time will recognise — Are there ; and starlike shines each glorious name. Looking eternity from steadfast eyes. Wings have they, and their tongues are as a flame, Like stubble to burn up the world's poor lies. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 43 Great Shakspear greets me, like himself, with smile Open as day and kind as charity, And simple as sweet Truth's own infancy ; And "rare old Ben," soul free from taint of guile, "Whose garments the world's touch could ne'er defile : Heart true as steel ; for whom, to serve thereby His friend, that grand soul, putting his own high And mighty role off, the small part awhile Of "Kno'well" played. (27) Then Homer nods his head Like his own Jove, while thunder seems to roll Melodious to the sustained tramp and tread Of his grand verse, lifting like waves the soul ; And sounding like the boundless ocean, spread Before us, rolling free from pole to pole. But who is this, great where the greatest come ? Greater or less are not ; where mountains rise So high, small difference they equalise: They fill the eye alike, alike strike dumb. 'Tis Dante, whose Medusa page can numb With horror, or with tears fill Pity's eyes. I " look and pass," for Hell methinks still lies About him e'en in Heaven, and of Doom He shadow casts. On Milton, near, it falls, Deeping its counterpart ! But now begin Strains might a soul within the temple-walls Create, triumphant over death and sin. "With organ "voix celeste," 'tis Handel calls : "Ye good and faithful servants," enter in. A DEFENCE OF POESY. The dull, hard world, plodding its daily way, Toiling for back and belly, or more store ; And worst, who, with too much, surfeit on more — Vile slaves of Mammon, like their god, half clay ; Who at his feet the life of life would lay. Its mercies, sweet affections, which are more To God than sacrifice — the hived lore. Which makes Man not the creature of a day, But of all times : no poor Ephemeron, Shut in the paltry circle of self-ends — That Self, false centre, which all turns upon — But, with large scope of action, comprehends All Being's circles, doth concentric run With greatest, least, and, widening, God ward tends : 44 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; These ask "The use of Poesy ? " and vvhen , True poet asks for bread, give him a stone. 1 Shall we fling pearls to swine ? It were all one. Yet thoit of light to earth's poor denizen Art angel ministrant. Thy learned pen Dipped in all qualities, full feathered, flown To height of all philosophy, doth own No earthly leading ; 'tis of God, not Men ! For common breath thou bring'st us airs from heaven ; Wings for mere feet ; a telescopic eye, That looks above, beyond, things future even ! Yet microscopic too, that love thereby May to the large heart of Humanity Draw all things close. For this use wast thou given. O thou, next Faith, with Love, divinest gift Bestowed by God on man ; gem beyond price Of purest ray serene, fit in the skies' Bright diadem of stars to shine, and lift Our souls to Him who gave ye, else adrift On Doubt's dark sea, shaken like Fortune's dice At hazard ! O ye gems of Paradise, J Shine on together with one sublime drift, i One triune light ! Answer enough it were If I should say to these whose lives go prone, ■ That thou dost make our lives unlike their own. ■ This thy least praise. Then have of such no care, O Poesy ! Their depth thy height makes known ; Far out of sight of these thou and thine are. JUSTICE. " Be just and fear not." Statesman, hold the scales Of justice firm. The Commonweal in one. What counterweight can make comparison? Neither with popular breath fill thou thy sails, Which fall calm sudden, swell to sudden gales ; Treacherous in both, by both thou art undone. Take thou no side ; be like the midday sun, W^hose equal light warms all, o'er all prevails. So shalt thou prosper. Thy ambition then Shall not pluck down that pillar of the State Like a blind Samson. Thou shalt praise of men Have surely, tho' base factions thwart and hate. Justice can hearts estranged and alien Unite, and healing Peace doth on her wait. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 45 REVISITING THE SEA. Thou glorious Ocean ! thou art still the same As when thy salutary brine, my brow O'er-dashing, first baptised me, then as now. True baptism that ; ay, tho' not m the name Of godfathers and godmothers, when I came. And by thy sublime summons stirred, made vow And dedication of myself, which thou Didst hear, and with thy waves seem to acclaim. Calm as a mirror art thou now ; the Earth, Making her springtide toilet, gazes there On her sweet self, as after her sea-birth Venus of old. The calm of sea, earth, au". My soul partakes— peace beyond joy or mirth, Which passeth understanding, is its share. LIFE UNSTABLE. The simple souls, and those who overwise In the world's ways— its foxes— hold them themes For scoff and spoil ; while oft (as meet extremes) Their folly keeps word to the ear, but lies To the mocked hope ; to-morrow think will rise As yesterday : and fooled by waking dreams- Worst dreamers— caught in toils of their own schemes, See not a Nemesis in Fortune's guise ! As men at sea, who, marking but the waves And skies, think all is going as before. While Death ahead prepares them sudden graves, Or Fortune waits (misfortune !) on strange shore. So in her dicebox shaken fools and knaves. Turned upside down, she reckons in one score. INFUSORIA ; OR, THE MARVELS OF CREATION. (29) 'Tis as if in some tranced mood of mind We caught the music of the spheres ; as though Great Nature drew aside her veil to show Her inmost mysteries : of things designed To give the clue man yearns for. Oh how blind Without this microscopic eye ! how slow. Lost in this maze, were Science to see and know The wondrous limits in which are confined The world and all its workings ! Lest decay Of Life organic, pushed too far, become Surcease, mere inorganic, turn wrong way Life's balance, every water-drop finds room For countless beings which upon it prey. Life's wondrous circle forced thus to resume ! 46 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; This is a magic circle if you please, Tho' no enchanter in its centre stand, To wave his wand with necromantic hand, And weave dark spells his spirits to release ! The spirits here are spirits of good and peace ; Spirits of light, obeying the command Of Him who all sustains as first He planned ; At whose least word all is and all doth cease ! O God, into the wondrous circle of All being I feel drawn ; and not alone Of these invisible entities : above, Below, around, thro' all, o'er all, all own The wondrous bond ; concentric in which move Earth, sun, stars, planets, souls, in One as One ! My soul is lost in awe and wonderment ! Beginning, end are nowhere. All Self-is ! Circles in circles move, meet, never miss ; Worlds crowd like motes in sunshine ; light is sent From telescope-hid planets. One consent In all ; in merest atomies ; in this Hand-ball of earth, as in that Vast th' abyss Hides from the prying eye of Science, spent And telescopic-blind ! When on the shore Of ocean, musing, I behold the sea. Rocks, mountains, earth, those shining hosts far more Than sea-sands — sphere-swept all together — free, Yet bound in adamantine bond with me, — Rapt from myself in sphery thoughts I soar ! As, on this scale minute, (30) we clearly see With our poor purblind human faculties. Assisted by those eye-like subleties Of glass, how Being keeps its symmetrie ; So, moving circle-wise, spell-bound yet free, On God its centre, it all entities, In vast as small ; makes and remakes with rise And fall, like waves which self-renewing be. All change, no waste. Here bursts a world in flame There vaporous comet, which a world hath been. Will in fulfilled course new planet frame ; With wonder by some future searcher seen. Thus, thro' unending changes, all proclaim The One, One only, self-evolved and s^me i i OR, MOODS OF MIND. 47 THE GOLDEN MEAN. "When Fortune turns her wheel, and whirls along Kingdoms and individual atomies ; As, with earth rolled, oceans and mountains rise And sink, while earth keeps time to her sphere-song ; Shun the circumference ; whence, rudely flung, The greatest bulks are hurled at greatest size ; And seek, for Wisdom can herself suffice, The steadfast centre, gently-moving, strong. Move must thou still, for all is change below ; Yet in that golden mean dwells happiness. There only can she stand rude Fortune's blow, Nor lose her balance ; while the ambitious press To th' extreme edge, and thereon dizzy grow, Whether she raise her circle or depress. THE MAN AND HIS TIMES. The greatest minds, tho' far above their age In much, are of it, by it, in still more. Great Plato's soul, tho' 'bove his Zeus to soar Well able, and from mists to disengage God's Being, figured in that sublime page As Tiiith, and Light his shadow, with mere lore And questionings of words perplexed, still bore The shackles of his earthly pilgrimage. Like his Prometheus he his torch did light At the true source, and quickened man's poor clay, And led him many steps up Being's height. To glimpse of " Promised Land " at break of day. Yet to our science, bless'd with twofold sight, (31) Her earlier essays seem but wise child's play. GRADATION. What measurement, proportion, nice degrees ! What adaptions exquisite in all ! How fine, yet firm, precise the line 'twixt small And great— 'twixt reason which in Human sees Befoi^ and after, and doth still increase Its hived store, and that we wrongly call In animal mere instinct ; which doth gall Man's kibe at times, yet itself never frees From due degree ! Concentric they all move As bells each under other ringing " prime." Give the dear dog, who hath so large of love, As large discourse of reason, and what time Or measure would he keep with man above Or beast below ? 'Twould jar sweet Nature's chime ! 48 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LIFE ACCORDING TO NATURE. True child of Nature ! Blessed is the breast That gave thee milk, the paps that suckled thee, And left thee strong, when weaned, with spirit free And simple tastes, which whoso hath is blest. His unbought pleasures never lose their zest ; Not for high-da)'s and festivals wears he His singing-robes, but, Nature's true priest, she Doth for her daily service him invest. Oh blessed service ! Service which is true And perfect freedom. He is free, indeed, Of no mean city ! Those who leave thee, too, An ignis fatuus astray doth lead ; Mind, body feeble, feeble grows the breed. And feebly lives, cursed with more than their due. MODERN SCIENCE. Go, soar ; dive ; watch ; in act of life surprise The new Prometheus, Electricity ; Go, decompose with thy prismatic eye Yon sunbeam ; on thy palette spread the sky's Grand rainbow- tints, in miniature comprise ! Light cannot hide itself, (strange phrase !) tell lies, To thee ; tho' 'tis a harlequin, and by A Jacob's coat of many colours tries To cheat identity. Thou hast, as guides, j Two wondrous eyes (32) reverse, and canst with these \ Life track when in invisibles it hides, Or count it in a waterdrop with ease ; Or make some star, in azure seas that glides. Its distance write in light, its properties ! MY MUSE. My Muse is humble, as 'tis fit she should, Both in herself and for Humility's Sweet sake, who lieth perdu in her eyes — Her downcast eyes of contemplative mood, That lowly look for unregarded good. No bays adorn her brows, but. Flora-wise, She violets wears, and deems them flowers of price Because they sweeten lowly neighbourhood. She needs no Pegasus to prance and pace. Yet in each stream she finds a Helicon, And with the nymphs disports in each mill-race ; And sings to it, while sweetly running on The water turns, as 'twere a work of grace. The wheel, with blessing earned by work well done. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 49 AULD LANG SYNE. I love the pleasures which old faces wear ; C/(/ friends, our second selves, reduplicates, Partners in genial loves and healthy hates ; Who, in our joys and sorrows taking share. Make the one life seem many ; mirrors are To show its many-sidedness. The states And stages of our being, its kind fates, Or other, of (?/(/ places haunt the air : A local presence. Most I love of all Old books ; those missals rare, whose every page Old Time "illuminates ; " full on which fall. As tiiro' old painted windows, rich with age. The many-coloured tints ; which raise our small, Poor life, and school it on the world's great stage. MAKE READY ; PREPARE ! Fond Alan ! When Time draws near with stealthy foot — Grim Death's apparitor — and holds in hand That summons which no judge can countermand, No counsel counter-plead, look thou well to it, That th' actor's part in life's last act may suit ! For tho' thine hour-glass run golden sand As of Pactolus' self, it still must stand ; And Death will not thy wealth, but tkec, compute. O Memory, thou art full of tongues and eyes ! Let not those whisper what will nightmare sleep. Nor these glare looks might make thy flesh to creep ! The cozening flatteries and close-hugged lies. Which to thine ear their promise seemed to keep, Like fiends, will mock thee then with perjuries I HOMER. As when we sudden come upon the sea. And the great measured waves sweep up the shore. And the great winds, refreshing themselves, o'er It sport, and dip their wings so strong and free ; And look we where we will, all seems t(j be Boundless, horizonless ; so I explore The wide expanse Homeric, with rich store Hid in its choral depths : epitome And .sum of all things. In that mirror clear And large his Greece beheld herself full length — A Venus Anodyomene, to cheer Man's sight, and run in beauty and in strength Her course, till, as in her own Helen's ear. Seducers, whispering flatteries, drew near ! E 50 STOA^ES FROM THE QUARRY; BRICK AND MORTAR HUMANITY. In cities warped, behind so many screens, So many blinds drawn down on light direct, So mnch between the first cause and the effect ; Age premature and Youth without its teens ; False tastes, perverted appetites, ill spleens, Whims, humours, likes, dislikes, dainty respect And over-nice regard, we scarce detect Great Nature when we meet, or what she means Rightly interpret. So much comes between Eye, ear, taste, touch (sophisticated all), And her wise teaching ; so well doth Art wean, Her mother milk tastes now scarce natural. Our life must be dressed up like a stage-scene, And Nature, drugged, into hysterics fall. Kind Nature points her finger, with " Beware ! " Besotted man scarce heeds. The cat, more wise, (33) Tho' with him too sophisticated, tries The milk ; it tastes ill, seeming fair ; And, mindful of the adage, lets " I dare Not " wait upon " I would ; " but human lies And greed, like spells at which ill spirits rise, Poisoning for gain food, water, dwellings, air, Man winks at, and in turn doth victim fall ; One member suffers with another still ; (34) The curse in son.e shajie touches, reaches all, "Working to soul and body two-edged ill : Self-degradation, baseness, mutual gall, Distrust, life's unbought grace to taint and kill. "THE FELL ARREST WITHOUT ALL BAIL. O Man, when thou with Death stand'st face to face, With none to step between, and tenderly. Yet sternly. Love itself, tho' kneeling by. He puts aside, and thy few sands run race ; See that thy deeds smell sweet, and " herb o' grace " Send up its incense blent with thy last sigh ! Bless'd thoughts, like angels, gently close thine eye On this, and open on a better place. On that dark threshold a dim form doth stand, (Not Fortune) veiled, in act to lift her veil. Oh let it not be Nemesis at hand. Medusa-like, to scare with looks of bale ; But thro' death's shadowy vale an angel bland And bright, to lead, like Peter, out of jail. OR, MOODS OF MIND. ON A SEAT BY AN ANCIENT TOMB. Seat thyself, passer-by, and while brief rest Thy limbs, brief rest give to thy busy mind. Repay the kindne:is of the dead in kind — From that unending pause, as to attest Their sympathy still with tlie living, lest Their very names should pa-^s away, consigned To dusty death, they bid thee rest, and find Time for a thought of passing interest In them. Read then their epitaph, and go Thy ways not thankless. So tho' dead they speak ! The dead in many ways are with us ; show The paths we el-e should miss or toilsome seek. Their spirits work with us ; within us glow Their thoughts : thus Past and Present know no break. DAY AND NIGHT. Lo ! swiftly rolling upwards from the west, From the great eye of light Earth turns one face, And, star-veiled, with an Ethiop beauty's grace Clasps Sleep, her dusky babe, hushed on her breast. Anon, with the other, Janus-like, all drest In smiles, Aurora-like, she glides thro' space To greet him in her alternate sphere-race, While light and dark her wondrous form invest. Eastward she turns, impatient in that eye. With which her beauty suns itself, to bask. Here, with the bat, soft Sleep glides down the sky ; There, the lark sings man to the new day's task. This measured span of time and space gone by. The Janus-faces change their wondrous mask. SUNSET ON THE LAGO MAGGIORE. Is this some wondrous pageant ? Doth the sky Then hold high festival? The earth below Put on her singing-robes and glorious show, As if transfigured by the Almighty's eye ! All colours that on Nature's palette lie, All rainbows since the Flood there melt and glow, As if God in His crucible would throw Yon Alps, and all earth's gems, to fuse thereby One sun-like jewel ! All, the lake below Reduplicates, as th' image it would keep For ever. No vain vision this of sleep — No poet's dream ; all real, and waking breath. O God ! this daily life hath sights, I ween, Might make an apotheosis of death ! K 2 52 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; EXTRA FLAMMANTIA MCENIA MUNDI. The time will come when knowledge, which in Man Doth belter all things in one general best, Exalting, almost with new senses blest, What telescope and microscope began Perfecting, till he master Nature's plan ; Shall dive, like fisli, of wisdom deep in quest ; Or soar, like eagles, to her eyrie- nest. Where airs from heaven her new-found wings shall fan! Spirits from depth and height shall Science call, And by magnetic forces poised in air. Watch, lost in ecstasy, 'twixt rise and fall Of sun. Earth roll from light to darkness there ; Herself in light the while, hold overall The sun, her torch of knowledge, as it were. O wondrous vision ! of which but to think Is rapture. He of Patmos never saw That dream Apocalyptic with more awe Than I a faint lorctaste of this cup drink, As with God'> wine filled to the very brink ; Immortal draught in crystal without flaw. Pure nectar of the soul ! oh let me draw My fill ; still full, l//y level cannot sink : Most full most drunk of ! In Elysian light Now bathed see oceans, mountains, mighty lands With scenes historic, battle-fields of Right, Sweep grandly past : waves rolling up Time's sands. Then glides the panorama into night, And a fresh scene in living beauty stands. Lo ! India, spread at large, and all aglow With the fierce kisses of the sun, his bride ; And in her dusky ear that gem, her pride. Sea-set Ceylon. Thence over ocean throw Thy glance at her who duskier doth show, Her Ethiop sister ; Memnon by the side Of fal)ulous Nile ; the sea that doth divide Fair Europe, yet fjr good of all doth flow. Still change the scenes. Bright P ranee with vineyards cn)\\ned ; And Italy, spread like a map of art ; Spain, with her oil and wine ; Greece, holy ground. For which all souls on pilgrimages start ; And thou, Jerusalem, world-filling sound ! They come with, to sphere-music so depart ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 53 On to our England, o'er that stripe of sea, ^Vhich looks but like a ribbon far below ; Freedom's "blue ribbon," not the "Garter's ;" no ! The Ocean-tied, to make and keep her free, A True-love-knot ! may it ne'er untied be ! Easting thy glance, the North Sea looks as though Thou in the hollow of thy pahn couldst stow. Russia, a map rough drawn, holding in fee Huge cantle of our globe : icing the Pole, Ihvo elements, yon sea lies stark and bare. Here, south by west, see vast Atlantic roll His purificatory waters, cleansing air And earth ; and, mighty body with like soul, And gaze prophetic, our great offspring tlicre. Sweeping thy telescopic glance once more Across that land whose mighty rivers run Like songs of freedom, and whose task begun A drama is the world ne'er saw before, So much achieved, pledge of so much in store j Another ocean flows, and with that one Just left makes more than great comparison ; Two counterweights, which Nature's scale restore To balance. In mid-ocean there a day Drops from the calendar, which Time s'oops not (35) To pick up, tho' we brief-lived mortals may. Then eastward rolls Siberia's frozen plot ; China, Japan, just catching the bright ray, And night-cooled India, once more glowing hot. So, come full-circle this sublime display, We feel as disembodied we had been, Rapt in the visions of God, and there had seen The kingdoms of the world, and all that they Contain ; tho' not as His be our survey Made " in a moment," nor that sublime scene One of "temptation," work of spirit unclean ; ]->ut Nature's, in her gently-mighty way ! Now drop thou, larklike, from that dazzling height, To nest, thy little England, full in view ; Rolled once again from darkness into light, Like emerald green set in the ocean's blue ; So small, that winged Mercury on it might Stand tiptoe, ere he, puffed by Zephyr, tlew. (36) 54 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LOSE NOT TIME. With bee-like industry fill thou the hive Of knowledge. Let no flower of the spring Escape thee. From the slopes of Hybla bring Those finer flavours they alone can give, On which the bees of poesy must live. Therewith thy daily bread too sweetening, Thou'lt raise and leaven it to be a thing The Muse may bless, and thy soul on it thrive. Lay up rich fuel for poedc use, And when thou hast enough to make a pyre. And sacrifice would'st offer to the Muse, .She will send down her own celestial fire, And with articulate breath the flame diffuse ; One spark of which will thy whole heart inspire. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. Blotted with holy tears shed long ago, When pain and joy play tricks in youthful eyes On slender prompting, here before me lies The page divine, self-opened. Bending low, I read ; and, moved by mingled feelings, flow .Some added tears. Time takes me by surprise. Thus lies he still in wait ; and, if he dries Some tears, makes others just because 'tis so! Andromache ! those tears of thine still run ; A spring-head of all pity, human love. And tenderness was struck when they begun, And flows for ever ; for 'tis from above. Yes ! countless hearts have drunk there ; Love thence won A fuller life, at large to breathe and move. MENTAL DIGESTION. How strange, diverse, the powers of the mind ! E'en as the stomach can assimilate And to itself subdue to affin'd state Mere opposites of food and drink, divined In bitter, sour, sweet ; fish, flesh ; coarse, refined. Unerringly as needed ; so create Our minds from objects of our love and hate, Their differences in degree and kind. Poison to some, to others is as food ; Some will on garbage prey, tho' nectar were At hand. One's evil is another's good. From Dan unto Beersheba one will fare And find all barren ; while another would In stones find sermons, and good everywhere ! \ OR, MOODS OF MIND. 55 DAWN IN A CATHEDRAL. It is the break of day ! The angel Light Steals thro' yon eastern window's gorgeous liues, And his pure wings, Aurora-gemmed with dews, Tairenie) Was struck in playful mood ; and poets dream Beside it, and the Muses deign t' appear. Its source is higher up, itself in reach Of lowlier thirsts and needs. As to the eye One golden thread drawn thro' some leafy breach Of woods o'erarched gives clue to sun and sky ; So, full of large suggestion, this doth teach "And tell us of the main of Poesy ! F 66 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE POET'S TEST. For a vile mess of pottage sell not thou Thy birthright, heir of treasures beyond kings ; Crawl not thou, to whom God hath given wings. Serve not the World, nor moth and rust allow To enter in and spoil, thou on whose brow God hath writ " immortality," which clings Thro' true and false to thee : in the one, stings Of scorpions ; in the other, good men's now And God's ' ' Well done ! " hereafter. Wealth seek not ; It is to thee at best a golden chain; And fetters, tho' of gold, thy soul hath got ; Thou'st gained a loss, and lost a priceless gain ! Thou canst not God and Mammon both retain ; One must thou serve, or both will cross thy lot. TIME. If Time's great wheel, revolving, from it flings Into th' oblivious Past the dust and dross And cast-off of the World, as at a loss How to dispose of such old worn-out things, Yet in his treasure-house lie offerings Of imtold value, from which he the gloss Not wears, but heightens and keeps bright for us, Brushing the dust off with memorial wings. Yet tho' he takes away he brings no less ; And mighty as the mightiest shall come In their due course ; for Nature lays a stress And strain upon her, and her procreant womb Responds with some great birth, when Time doth press, And Expectation tiptoe stands and dumb. "FREE LOVE" AGAIN. Free Love, free Hate ! loathing, contempt, and scom ! Brief is lust's dream ; the pleasures of mere sense, Lusts of the flesh, are short-lived if intense : Ephemera at best, and oft stillborn ; Roses rude-grasped which, fading, leave the thorn. For the weak victim the next social fence Yields sticks ; thou. Woman, sinn'st at own expense, Left, 'mid the wastes of time, a thing forlorn. Not wife ; the toy and plaything of a day ; Not mother ; like the brute beasts of the field Thy travail ; shaming, shamed, and put away. No father ; lust sweet child-love cannot yield. The mirror to reflect these forms with ray I )ivine in true Love's fires must be annealed ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 67 SCHOOL-BOARD WRANGLES. While fools and knaves, and rabid sectaries Would education bring to a dead-lock, Leaving to chance, or worse, the poor lost flock, In steals the Devil, in the shepherd's guise. And turns it back v^^hile pointing to the skies : Lest tender consciences nice points should shock, And Faith find common-sense a stumbling-block, Religion starves on empty '"ologies." Ye hypocrites ! ye would set up your stones And stocks in place of God, and truth, and love, And give us for the grace of life dry bones ! Religion, which is from, to draw above. Must speak with other voice ; ay, as with tones And tongues of angels, and have power to move ! OUR NOW. Live in thy Present : take it not amiss. But understand it ; make the most of it, And of thyself, else art thou a misfit, A sentence bracketed, hyphen 'twixt some bliss To be or been, which, therefore, neither is ; " Let the dead bury their dead," if thou hast wit To take it so ; and let Time-to-be fit Itself, bear its own children, as does this. I speak in figures — from thy field of view The Past hath joined the years before the Flood ; The Future's not in sight, affords no clue : Man should not raise that veil e'en if he could ; 'Twould, like strange looks in face one never knew, Perplex, with things not to be understood. SACER VATES. Let thy mind as a goodly temple be — Not only, like that famous shrine of old. Built without sound, as sacred pens have told, Of axe and hammer, but without hands ; free From the world's strife and din : that thou may'st see, Rapt in the visions of God, such things unfold Their meaning, as vouchsafed to Prophets old, And God in figures deign to speak with thee ! And His Wortl shalt thou utter, not thine own ; (On peril of thy soul), no more, nor less ; Thy lips shall be His oracles alone. Then, haply thou, like Balaam, shalt bless When others curse ; and give, where they a stone, The Bread of Life to Man in his distress ! F 2 68 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; THE SONNET. The Sonnet in the Muse's wide domain Is but a small estate, but it lies well In a ring-fence, all tilth and arable : No barren stretch of dull, prosaic plain ; No wastes, to hand ingrate, to sight a pain. Its furrows all in wavelike order swell. And golden mists at dawn the sun foretell, Whose alchymy turns all to golden grain. 'Tis like an egg, or should be, full of meat ; The ring, whose two ends hold life's double bliss ; A daily care, imperative, yet sweet ; A task, done against time, tide, bit or miss ; An inspiration, struck off at a heat ; "Totus, teres, atque rotundus;" Love's first kiss. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE VERSUS PARIS AND HELEN. (38) O thou, on whose poetic palette fine (Thy colours words) all qualities lay spread Of good and evil, of man's heart and head ; That heart and brain which in them all combine, P'rom beasts that perish to minds half-divine ; Oh with what art, so great we scarcely heed, Which if not nature, nature would exceed. Hast thou touched in that grand cartoon of thine ! How exquisitely lights and shadows blend, Contrast, like rich cloud-panorama'd sky : How those high-lights, which Heaven itself doth lend To that full-length of wedded love and high True self-devotion, rebuke and transcend The brief, false flash of passion's ecstasy ! O holy wedded Love, where heart meets heart. Each nobler, larger, doubly-blessing, blest ; Two streams, each bettered in one common best ; True fundamental chord of Life thou art. The soul's harmonics ; of Heaven's counterpart ! That large Homeric heart, in its wide quest, And casting off the Present like a vest Worn threadbare, from this vantage-ground fresh start For Man divined. Therefore so lovingly, With words beyond a Raphael's colours rare, He paints in with divine simplicity That scene of wedded love without compare ; But with consummate tact suggestively Wraps in a veil the love which is a snare ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 69 This is to be a Poet ; to fo red ate The steps of Time, slow-lagging far behind ; This (would they see) to give sight to the blind ; This to teach statesmen how to legislate ; This (would he rise) to raise Man's low estate ; One bound sublime, enfranchised in mind ; Those chains struck off by cunning Custom twined 80 close, that they become at last like Fate. Lift not your shallow voice at Poets, then : Their rapt eyes, kindled with celestial fire, Are high prophetic, see beyond your ken Visions (dreams 11010) of things beyond and higher ; They, too, can change the world with stroke of pen. And, like Amphion, stocks and stones inspire ! "FREE LOVE" AGAIN. Oh most unnatural, that Woman's hand Should lift itself against the majesty Of Love ! 'Tis to put out the very eye Of Being. Let Love's rose, with all its bland Life-sweetening perfunre, from her fair brow banned, Be replaced with a blister ! 'Tis to die By her own hand, and blast with obloquy The name of " Woman," and a bye- word stand. O Love, not the weak, wanton Cupid thou. But that diviner form to whom his dart And torch are playthings, and himself I trow, Venus Urania ! who dost touch the heart With quenchless altar-fire, touch Woman's now. And save, for thou her guardian angel art ! THE EARLY DEATH OF KEATS. As in her goblet Cleopatra threw The pearl of price, and drank it to her love. So throws the Poet something far above That pearl, a gem far rarer and more true, Into Life's mantling cup, and drinks it to The Muses in libation, tho' it prove Oft but as sweet-lipped poison, one remove From envious Death, and Love's last sad adieu. His heart that pearl of price is ; for the Muse Proves sometimes jealous where least need to fear, And grudges to an earthlier passion use Or share of that which she holds onely dear. Making therefore of her great love excuse, She takes him to herself, for ever near ! 70 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE MUSE'S SERVICE. Muse, for greatest things the strife is great, And needs must be : the happy warrior Is trained in battle, crown'd a conqueror, When he hath gained with much toil and full late That highest crown, the crown of Man's estate, Self-victory ! Therefore, wise Monitor, Thou dost, severely kind, thrast backward for A season, till great means with great ends mate. As Jacob with the angel, with bent knee 1 wrestle with thee, thro' the darkness hope ; Thou hast put me out of joint, and made me see That without thee none well with Fame may cope. , Oh let my name prevail, and changed be ; Called after thine, as having power with thee ! PROGRESS. Each generation of the human mind Needs larger swaddling-clothes ; the very breast Of Science now gives milk to babes : babes blest With scientific toys, express-designed To rouse them to draw further Nature's blind ; The young philosopher his drum must test, The sound and fury of Life's later quest Forestalling ; one same moral both behind. The worn-out mental garments of the past Make rags for paper for new theories. Ideas tabooed once take root and grow fast In larger brains ; while Science creeps, dives, flies : Life is but electricity at last ; One missing link Man to Gorilla ties ! RAPHAEL'S MADONNA BELLA SEGGIOLA. The veiy pressure of those arms we feel Round her dear babe, who, nestling like a dove On her soft bosom, throbs back love for love ; The vague unconscious-consciousness of weal Seems from itself almost itself to steal The sense of bliss, so perfect that above Its cause and instruments it seems to move And have its being, and itself reveal In very essence. Yes ! the Present is ; Past, Future are not ; instant happiness Is all in all. Hope, merged in perfect bliss, Sleeps (fluttering dove), in self-forgetfulness. Love's circles here, concentric run with His Above — the great, the lesser, and still less ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 71 ON A TOMB. Dost thou, O Tomb, speak truth, or petrify A falsehood ? With engraved breath give praise To proved deserts, or if of what it says The stone were conscious, would it blush to lie In sight of all men, and insult the sky ? It were all one ! Time with oblivious days Hath blotted out that life, and now its place Not knows it, true or false, or how, or why. Time stays not to gloze epitaphs ! he sweeps With his great wings oblivious dust behind, And to the instant business sternly keeps. A few gi-and names, seers where all are blind, Speakers where dumb, watchers in world that sleeps, The lights of God, shine on to guide mankind. MAN-PROUD SPARTA. Noblest of boasts ! true boast of men and states ! Without this Earth's base is but rottenness, States rest on sand, a masquerading dress Their tinsel-civilisation ; brief their dates ; Wrath 'ganist the day of wrath, and angry Fates. Ay, in the very flattery and caress Of strumpet Fortune they Destruction press, And Nemesis sits at their city-gates ! ' " Man " is the corner-stone of all : on this. Ye Statesman, build : where this is, all is ; where 'Tis not is nothing. " Man " the tme gold is ; Without that 'tis base coin. Ay, tho' it bear Image and superscription, even His Above, 'tis counterfeit, and will not wear ! KEATS. At thy dear birth the Muses, present all, Assistance gave and happy augury ; And, tho' celestials, did loving vie In mortal offices, and deigned to call After themselves, and of their great and small Large-handed gave thee. Poet's tongue and eye, Imagination's wings ; humanity Open and warm as day in Spring, as Fall Rich, mellow-fruited. But, alas ! there stood Another Presence near the Muses, one Stronger than they, and of far other mood, And gave his fatal gifts, beheld of none ! Is there, O Death, so much of rarest good. That all they do by thee must be undone ? 72 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; WORLDLY WEALTH. How instant Sorrow treads upon the heel Of Happiness, and Care doth gall his kibe At top of Fortune's wheel ; and Envy's gibe, Like shadow after substance, makes him feel Its sting — while thieves that would but dare not steal His treasures lie in ambush ; and that tribe Whose poor lip-service golden hours bribe, Ephemera, in sunshine of his weal, Who fly-blow when 'tis gone. Better than this The simple fare where leal hearts meet in love. True friendship's honest handshake, pure love's kiss ; High strivings day upon day to improve ; True wage of hand or pen ; and that which is The crown of all, heart set on things above ! MODERN WARFARE. War, accursed idol, still thy car. Like Ind's foul Juggernaut (idolatry Less hateful than thine own), rolls crashing by, 'Mid widows', orphans' wails, to blast and mar God's image ; while, 'neath Mars' lurid star, Glaring, ascendant in th' ensanguined sky. Earth bleeds, and gentle Ceres made to fly Drops plough and sickle, while the Sword doth scar Her fniitful bosom ! Science, too, of Peace The gentle minister, pei^verted, turns Upon herself, deviceful to increase Death's armoury : as natural fire scarce bums. Hell-fire she invents that scourge to please ; And teaches War, while Peace forgets, unlearns ! POESY. As well the altar take from out the shrine As Poesy from Life — put out the fire. The sacred household flame, and bid retire From desecrated hearthstones their divine Penates, who its glow sustain, refine ; As well pluck out man's hearts and make a pyre, True funeral pile ! and burn it with the lyre ; For this the goblet is without the wine ! 1 mean that Poesy in largest sense, From earth to heaven, from cradle to the grave ; Which perfumes this our life like sweet incense, And like the salt o' the earth from taint can save. Cast it not out ; oh break not down that fence ; That swine their styes may in the temple have '. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 73 HEALTH. O blessed Health ! thou mak'st the passing crow Of Chanticleer the trumpet of the morn, The soul's rneiUc, all sluggardise to scom, To shun delights, and by the forelock so To seize swift Time as not to let him go. Till Fortune, in the side of fools a thorn. Transfers to more deserts what they were born To undeserving, nor to use did know. O precious antidote ! reward thrice blest ! That makes a charm from sweat of hand and brain, To turn bad into good, and good to best ! O dew and perfume of Man's life, how vain Without thee wealth and power, and ease, and rest: A crown of gilded thorns, a golden bane ! TO . O purest Lily ; dew-drop ; dawn of day ; A robe of light thy innocence ; a bright Pure emanation of a soul all white ; Soul-light, one, indivisible, pure ray Of God Himself — which, passed thro' prism, may No colours show, but still remaineth quite And onely pure ; a diamond, which God's light Shines thro' and passes unchanged on its way ! Not only pure thyself — nought can endure, While near thee, to be otherwise, whereon Thy light transfiguring falls ; from evil-doer The spirit, as if exorcised, is gone ! Whilst things of light turn towards thee, pure to pure, Like kindred lilies, to be shone upon ! THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. This Age of ours, with Mars i' the ascendant, born, Ensanguined planet ! and its infancy Made tuneable with War's soft lullaby. Had a grand dream of Peace and Love, a morn Of promise. Knowledge blew her magic-horn To wake the Seven Sleepers ; to her high And holy quests to rouse from apathy A world distraught, and make Earth less forlorn. 'Twas a grand vision, with horizons wide And forms divine ; but as the Age gained years, Like Youth's illusions. Time thrust these aside. Reduced to man's proportions — dashed with tears And blood the page of knowledge, and her pride Rebuked, and put to shame her purblind seers ! 74 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; OCCUPATION. Of all the shapes Protean the Devil takes, The worst is Idleness. Here largest scope For wickedness, the widest door doth ope For sin ; tho' just ajar, she by it makes Her entrance, and, once in, possession takes. Possession "nine points of the law," with hope Strong of the tenth, is : give an inch of rope She'll hang you with it ; bind you, like a snake's Close cincture, hand and foot. Give her no place, Then, in thy thoughts ; insidious thief, thy heart She then beguiles and lulls in her embrace. Let her not take thy hand and lead apart In dalliance ; but with blessing and with grace Of labour earn thy bread, and make life's start. THE BOOK YOU MAY HOLD OVER THE FIRE. Come to my hand once more, old well-thumbed book; Friend of my youth, companion of long years ; Thou hast soothed many aches, dried many tears ; From out thee as an old friend's eye doth look, And opening thee, it is as if I took An old friend by the hand : each page appears Illuminated with joys, hopes, and fears, (Like an old missal), clasped with Memory's lock. Unlock thy heart, then ! howsoe'er I be. Sick, sad, or sorry, thou art still the same ; No flaws of tempei-, ups or downs with thee. When Fortune, like a sorry jade, falls lame. And hearts turn inside-out that we may see Their hoUowness, thou puttest them to shame ! SHAKSPEAR. As on some morning of assured Spring, When Winter spends himself; with peevish wind Puffs out his cheeks, vexed to be left behind ; While yet his last rude efforts do but fling The leafy curtains wide, and help birds sing His sweet farewell, the Sun his ways unkind Rebukes, and, scattering clouds of sky and mind, Sweet airs from heaven and golden looks doth bring I So on the rearward clouds of troublous times Our Shakespear sunlike rose, towering in the van Of mighty spirits, while the morning-chimes Rang out of day more than Virgilian. Chaucer, our lark — fit harbinger — sang Primes, And Matins, and that fuller day foreran. OR, MOODS OF ML\D. 75 IDEAS. The thoughts that come of themselves to the mind ; That like sweet, skittish faces, pique and play At hide-and-seek, just show, then run away With a faint elvish laugh : voices that find In our souls' depths strange echoes ; leave behind, Blent strangely, awe and wonder, yet betray No whereabouts ; or wood-nymphs, who waylay In forest dim, and with their glamour blind Yet draw us on. Such are they : passing-strange ! Whispers from heaven ; seeds dropped by angel-hand, Of scent, and hue, and yield beyond the range And reaches of our souls. From Holy Land The sacred soil e'en so of growths brought change, And Pisa, wondering, saw strange flowers expand. (39) TO ENGLAND. greatest of the Oceanides ! Well may the mighty Neptune let thee lay Thy hand upon his locks, and with them play, Whilst he, caressing with his loving seas, Encircles thee, and studies still to iilease. For thou no Mermaid's song, no Syren-lay Hast chanted to the isles ; but shown the way Of toil, in song and deed, not sloth and ease ! Oh still thy lofty-chanted part fulfil, And, true choirleader, lead off in all toil And song for good, that he may love thee still, Still cleanse thy garments from earth's stain and moil, And like a spotless bride watch o'er thee, till He can present thee without spot or soil ! THE EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF WELLINGTON ON CONSTITUTION HILL. Ride on, old iron Duke, ride forthright on Into the ages, leap this gulf of Time ! Iron thy steed ; thyself true steel, ay, prime As best Damascus blade : nought else e'er won A nation's heart, or set thee tliere upon Thy charger ! Ay, let London smoke begrime. And dust besmirch thee, thou art still sublime ; 'Tis gilt o'er-dusted, not gilt dust, with none ! 1 love to see thee 'mid the fog, and smoke. And sweat of toiling London ; greatness shaivs Itself, and Duty, who by thee still .spoke. Oh may such never fail ; true hearts, like those At Agincourt, those "happy few," who broke (40) The French, nor Time the noble roll e'er close ! 76 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO . Of medicinal cup, to cheat the same, We honey-touch the rim ; but when I this Of cordial wine uplift, and my lips kiss The beaded edge, and with the wine thy name, Thy dear name mingle, oh methinks, Love's flame Plays round the cup of Bacchus, and less his Than Love's, while thy sweet health I drink, it is ; So Love and Bacchus play odd- even game. Bacchus is but cup-bearer unto Love ; The wine serves, like the honey, to disguise ; And only when Love quickens it doth move And stir itself aright, and cordial prove ! Then more than healing med'cine in it lies. Life's true Elixir, all else far above ! SACER VATES. lie dwells apart, in the large solitude Of his own heart ; few love, few understand ; His soul, an isthmus, with untrodden strand. Bridges that Future, otherwise which would Be sundered quite from the dull Present's mood ; That so the forward spirits who command Time's passes and approaches, of that Land Of Promise, o'er which sun- touched clouds dark brood, Catch sight. His soul is as a Sinai ; No common feet may mount ; and on that height, That height of God, lo ! the Lord passeth by ! His Word is put into his mouth with might To utter, ay, with thunders of the sky, And he descends transfigured in that light I HYGEIA. The temple of that blessed deity, Fast friend to Virtue and Religion (Nay, they are triune, either, neither, none ; In essence one, as colours in light lie), Is seated on a height, with purest sky. The approach direct, yet not too easy won ; The "Open-Sesame," at rise of sun, T/ien only, " Labour, God be praised thereby. Therefor ! " Her simple, potent talisman Is, " Moderation in all things ; " yet is She no ascetic, nor constrains she Man To put hard bit in Pleasure's mouth : nay, this, True Pleasure, she doth hold in largest span ; And, without her, were taint in Love's o^vn kiss ! \ OR, MOODS OF MIND. 77 TO . The roses there, the dewy, on thy cheek, Do put to shame theLr namesakes, which but seem Figures and shadows ; v^ide-awake to dream ! Oh who would in Spring's garlands ever seek A fairy-flower like this, to breathe and speak Thro' living roses ; thus to shine and gleam Brighter and purer, with the soul's true beam, Than all the lilies which perfume then reek. Oh how those eyes (where Love, the fowler, lies Perdu, and weaves, with tangles of thy hair. His nets and meshes of most rare device). Most wound, intoxicate, when most they spare ! Thy doves may (ay, those doves of Paradise), Prove fatal, as Medusa's snakes once were ! POLITICAL MILESTONES. Only a bigot or a fool would make Consistency, in sense of fixedness. The Statesman's touchstone : 'twere mere littleness, Blank incapacity of things to take Just measure, thus to stand tied to a stake, A formal ass ! while Time doth forward press, Changing all things, from mind's to body's dress ; And circumscription and confine doth break Like Samson's withes. In a world where all Doth change and move, we must be changed, or change , A'ot to change were change as unnatural As shadow to stand still upon the wall ! Yet need we not the compass, vanelike, range, Nor Jacob's motley wear at fashion's call. HAPPINESS FROM WITHIN. Set not thy heart on outward things ; oh, trust Not to them, they will play thee false ; a reed To pierce thy hand, and break at sorest need. Too much but feeds the moth : base metals rust ; O'er-dusted gold is gold still ; gilt-dust, dust. Betimes seek Wisdom ; early sow her seed, That both th' early and latter rains may feed ; Only ripe years round ofi"her circle just. Keep to the truth of things ; nought interpose Between. As we say "suns set," or " stars rise," (41) Yet 'tis not they that move, as he well knows To whom divine Astronomy lends eyes. But this Earth-ball which sun-revolving goes ; So to the Real submit thou all Life's shows. 78 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; EARLY OPPORTUNITIES LOST. As on a lovely morning of the spring, When some great work is toward, and all the air Is full of stirs and hums ; each thoroughfare With metropolitan crowds doth shout and ring Again, and its great temples pray, and sing Hosannas, and the world is debonnair; The sluggard wakes, who should have borne his share In that unacted, now past-acted thing ! Up jumpeth he, while Time's reproachful hand Marks " too late " on the clock ; then doth he rage, And curse his " evil stars," and maketh grand Resolves ; ay, 7vi/l " turn over a new page." So runs to waste, like dross, -youth's golden sand, While Folly turns the hour-glass of age ! BEETHOVEN AND HANDEL. One deaf ; the other blind ! Strange destiny ! Nature showed here less than a mother's mind, A little more than kinn'd and less than kind ; Nay, a stepmother's, to put out the eye Of Genius ! 'Tis like making light's self die. Did she do so as heartlessly 7ve blind * The nightingale, a sweeter song to find; Or gave too much, and grudged it by and by ? The other's ear, which she so wondrous wrought, Then marred !— that ear divine to which, applied Like the sea-shell, the world its voices brought. With mystic murmurs, sound of ebb and ticle Of Life's great ocean. Strange, perplexing thought, To mar that in which she might take most pride ! SACER VATES. As when the Mind 's reverted inwardly, The genius, and the outward instruments Of ear, eye, sense, all seconding its intents, Subordinate and ovennastered by One all-possessing image, the rapt eye Gives shape to airy nothings, represents In form and substance outwardly, consents To mere illusion, as reality ; So, with strong image of the Future, he O'ermastered, the creative Poet, broods Over that chaos void, and bids light be ; Then so the vision his rapt sense deludes That the dull Present he no more can see, But the grand Future, which all else excludes ! OR, MOODS OF MTND. 79 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. When at the various gates, ill-guarded yet, The passages confused and intricate, The entrances ill-lit, scarce adequate (42) To the great press and throng which to them set, And, inexperienced, the gatekeepers get Perplexed, and find out their mistakes too late, A motley crowd assembles ; at each gate Of the new palace knock, and fume, and fret ; Oh, then let Wisdom, Argus-eyed, o'erlook That mansion, and that household of the mind, That graceless guests come not by sense, or book, Or picture ; oh, for none let Memory find A lodging, save for guests of gentle kind, Nor evil spirits pass in angels' cloak ! ENVY. Of all the thieves and robbers, beyond doubt, The worst of all is Envy, cursed name ! That livid wretch, whose heart gnaws like a flame At sight of excellence. Oh cast him out, Ye ill-possessed, with all his hideous rout ; From hell all evil spirits with him came, Who rob their victims, torture, put to shame. And, capping injuiy with insult, flout. Others but rob your purse, this wretch your heart ; The treasure too intrinse for vulgar thief, This expert filches with consummate art ; The love of excellence, the crown and chief Of good in man, which quickeneth every part. He deadens, and destroys therein belief. A BREAK-DOWN. My Muse now " crescive in her faculty ! " Alack ! how, as an antick plays his old Stale tricks, his jests discounted ere they're told. Must I tag on some "purple patch;" thereby Get Shakspear to eke out my penury. And lace my threadbare jacket witl: his gold ! While, like a peacock, in his feathers bold, I think my screech the Swan of Avon's cry ! Blush, bluiih, my Muse! take not that name in vain ; Take not the word from his great mouth, as tho' He common were : give him his own again. He is so rich that, making a brave show In his chance-feathers, common birds may strain Their throats, and fools the difference scarce know ! So STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TIME. Time, like an almsman, carries at his back A wallet, into which all sorts of things He — old and new together jumbled — flings ; Neiv that were old, and white that now are black, And black deemed white, and Master who was Jack ; Old, old enough to be now new ! So rings He still his changes, and Life circling brings Thro' all the signs of its strange Zodiac ! (Jive him "good-morrow" and "good-den" — entreat Him gently, with kind words and deeds to suit ; And let thy charity answerably meet His needs without enforcements, and salute As if an angel passed — he that conceit, At his last visit, may to thee impute I 1 i THE FASHIONABLE WORLD. Is this, then, Life ? or doth it take in vain The name of Life — mere blank, rank blasphemy ! Mere Death in Life ! Ay, Death, if passing by, Might ask : " Are these alive, or do they feign?" What boots to slay the already-dead again ! Lay-figures, puppets of Humanity, That trip, strut, dress, lie, gossip, paint and dye ; Killing that Time which makes your pleasure pain ! Wretched Ephemera, in the morning-sun Of pleasure glancing, heedless of her stings Of scorpions, when this her brief day is run. Moths, at that fire ye'll singe your angel-wings ! Poor flies ! buzz, shine in tinsel. Life begun ; I Ye stink and fly-blow long ere it be done ! LIGHT AND SOUND. As Light hath in its magic weft and woof A sevenfold strand, or mesh of colours, wTought In th' elemental loom, subtle as thought, Which make, united, light of purest proof, To fret with golden fire by night heaven's roof, And quicken earth by day ; so Music, brought From heaven, with like sevenfoldness fraught, Her rich harmonics blends for man's behoof. There is a music of eye as of ear ; A picture is an unheard melody ; And p'raps some time the latter too may hear That melody in sounds which with tints vie ! Three tones each sound, three tints each ray make clear j There is a prism of the ear as eye ! {43) OR, MOODS OF MIND. 8i OLD AGE. Old Age creeps in his petty pace from day To day, and pettier every step he takes ; As if he now by inches and by aches Crawled on, and measured painfully the way From that to which with bounds of hope, so gay And debonnair (unconscious how Time makes Fine promises, how readily he breaks) He leaped, when youth's hot blood was in its May. His wallet now choke-full of cares and pains, Strange odds and ends, and reminiscences. Fag-ends of hopes, moth-eaten memories, gains Now viewed reversely losses ; with all these_ O'erborne, and maggots in 's poor aguey brains. He drops his load, and prays to Death for ease ! PATIENCE. " Like Patience seated on a monument." Pretty conceit ! This grace (this Christian grace I mean, not one of the old Pagan race. All "three" together no equivalent For this : of earth they ; this from heaven sent) In sooth, is on a tomb not out of place. Rebuking with divine uplifted face Death and the Grave, while Love kneels crushed and bent. Yet this debt paid to Death, Life claims its due. Arise, sweet Patience, then ! resume thy task With those who fight the good fight, with the true, Who toil for Love and Truth, nor seek, nor ask The false world's fickle favours, but of you. And Hope, sweet helpmate, would the loss sore rue. THE PURE IN SPIRIT. O ye, gatekeepers of that mansion fair With many chambers, hall of audience For God's ambassadors ; and towers whence. Looking before and after, prospects rare Open on all sides, with delightsome air ; Keep ye strict watch and ward ; on no pretence Let enter those, by any gate of sense Or fancy, without license to be there. The chambers swept and garnished keep in it, For angels' visits, coming unawares, For to such ye may open, and admit Unwitting, till they leave with heavenly airs ; Yea ! God Himself to enter may think fit (I'hus purified), -syhen they tell how it fares. G 82 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LUXURY AND SCEPTICISM. "Off, off, ye landings !" Ay, that's the right tune, If we can sing to 't — have enough of voice To make our poor selves heard through all this noise And worldliness. The rock whence we were hewn, The clay we're made of we forget, and soon Shall in our philosophic balance poise The God who made us ; with our vile alloys Debase His coin. His image there (rich boon Of grace) disfeature ! Thou false World, unmask ; For this once make thy toilette in Truth's glass ! In purple and fine linen, thou doth bask In Fortune's smiles ; thy luxury doth pass Itself each day ; more gold yet dost thou ask To spend in sloth what by toil gotten was. ENGLAND. A hundred-handed Briareus art thou, O England ! long thine arms are, strong and long ; They clasp, sea-like, the world ; but most where throng The merchants upon 'Change, with wealth of plough And loom, of forge and mine ; well know'st thou how The golden tides of commerce run ; slack, strong ; Here, there; their set still shifting ; seldom wrong, For wise forecast thy ventures doth endow. Therefor, and as well-loving gentle Peace, Though not for self all, but part for her store. Fortune hath filled thy sails with her full breeze. Cast then thy bread still on the waters ; power Will from above return it with increase. And Peace, for her ozun sweet sake, seek thy shore. THE DOG. (44) 'Tis worthy of remark, and of deep thought, How that most loveable and noble beast. The Dog, with an affection still increased, Drawn closer, is to finer temper wrought And raised, when with Man in close contact bro Some crumbs fall to him still from Reason's feast. And for his great love. Love, Nature's high priest, Gives him her benison and grace unbought. The higher nature educates the less ; And his affection for his master, Man, Both in degree and kind is more express Than for his fellow : nay, sometimes his span Love shortens ; and he finds in mute distress A winding-sheet in his dead master's dress^ OR, MOODS OF MIND. 83 SAPPHO. It were a loss unto the Muses, were A void in life ; a chord that mute remains, With subtle-sweet vibrations, joys and pains, Were Woman Museless. Man dotli little care To know, nor could he, many things which are In Woman's heart and being ; loves, disdains, Hopes, aspirations, subtleties of brains And hearts more finely strung with fancies rare. Our life is from a diiTerent stand-point seen ; More rainbow-hued ; of less circumference, On inner lines, it yields a rich demesne. Its centre, Love, supreme in soul and sense. Take then thy lyre ; Love be, as it hath been, Thy prompter, in its strength and innocence. THE TRUE BRAVE. As with dogs, so with courage, every kind ; And as with them too, nice esteem doth part And parcel off their havings, courage, art And subtlety, strength, trustiness, long wind, Detective nose and eye, or ear refined ; So with Man and his courage : touch of heart, Or bent of mind, or fancy apt to start Like a shy steed, or knowledge, training, mind, Or no mind, — all these give it still its less Or more. But crown me him, with steadfast ken, Who in Truth's even balance weighs success Or failure, be it with the sword or pen. And, taking crown or cross alike, doth press Forward for God, unseen, or seen of men. LABOUR VERSUS LUXURY. Sweet is the bread of Toil ; it hath true salt Of relish, and is daintier sauced thereby Than epicure's chefs-d'ceuvre seasoned high, A poor man's fortune ! his dull pleasures halt And stumble o'er themselves ; his heart's at fault ; Gout, ennui, evil spirits ! apathy Possess him ; used-up, no dews vivify ! His gods of clay can curse, not bless, exalt ! O happy Toil ! fair as Hyperion to A satyr, to this travesty of Man Art thou — this flaw in Nature's holy plan — This discord in the anthem ever due From Man to Maker, Labour ! which began The world, and can alone uphold, renew. G 2 84 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; THE MUSIC FROM WITHIN. I know not how, 'tis merest foolishness (But highest things now foolishness are thought, What can't be touched and handled, sold and bought), An angel seems to whisper ; and with stress Divine, and emphasis of gentleness Un-nay-ab!e, things with strange meaning fraught. Though' little thereof to my ear is brought. Which I must utter, be it more or less. I am but as the mouthpiece of a flute. On which inspired breath would realise A melody too subtle, absolute ; Which not within such narrow compass lies. With larger hearing, ye who listen to it, Eke out its vague ^olian sounds and sighs ! AFTER A LONG FOG-SPELL; LONDON-XXX. Earth, put on steam, and roll this plague away ; This mask which smoke-begrimed Nature wears ; Making Day hideous ; who brings not airs From heaven, but blasts from hell, to choke, waylay Himself ; while Night scarce breathes awhile to pray Against it, ere her mouth is stopped. Gas flares To show poor blear-eyed Light the way. Scarce dares The sun peer through enough for fools to say "Good morrow! " Civilisation, thou art grand ; And Science, in thy cloak of darkness ; yet This fiend thou canst not exorcise ! Hard set As mouse in an " exhauster," I would stand On Mont Blanc, mount in a balloon, to get A gulp of ozone, and God's air command ! APPRAISEMENT OF LIFE. With philosophic sneer, a cynic said, " Life were but for its pleasures veiy well ; " Those who apart in air serenest dwell Of sweet Philosophy, the low scene spread Beneath deem paltry ; such high pleasures tread Her summits ; but poor folks who buy and sell In air less rarefied, and scarce can spell Her alphabet, fare ill on such fine bread. For my part, life were very well indeed Without its knaves and fools ; correlatives. Often identical ; who each other breed In damnable iteration, without wives ; Hermaphrodites, in short ! yet life may need Variety, as drones are found in hives. I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 85 THE BEST PHYSICIAN. O blessed Labour ! true balm of hurt minds ; Pain's panacea, sorrow's cordial ; Elixir potent, yet most natural ; No necromantic spell thy secrets finds, But Nature, of her boon-grace, for all kinds Of ills, of mind and body, great and small ; Her blessed All-heal ! Thee, too. Health doth call Preserver ; thy phylactery she binds On her pure forehead. Even more than sleep Balm and restorative ; for without thee Her poppies in oblivion may not steep Our aching sense ; but let her potion be Presented by thy hand, Care then doth keep No longer watch, her poor thralls are set free. IN, NOT OF, THE WORLD. Deal with the World as with one who if friend May enemy become, or friend, if foe. The gates of thy heart's sanctuaiy throw Not too wide open ; that stronghold defend ; Safe, save from treason. Thou must with it wend Perforce, else art thou but a shadow, no Real being, in the present only so ; But make not its ways thine, its ends thy end. Use it as not abusing it ; the good It yields take, and make better ; best, if thou Canst use for God, with self-denying mood. Rather act high-pitched thoughts than speech allow ; 'Tis gold for copper change. Man's brotherhood Exalt, and truth as thy life's life avow. IMPULSIVE CHARITY. Though thou a hundred hands, sweet Charity, May'st have, a very Briareus of alms, A bane would lurk in thy most healing balms (That heavenly dew of our humanity). Unless thou, hundred-eyed, like Argus, pry Through all disguises. Pious knaves sing psalms, Villains repent with simulated qualms Of conscience ; hypocrites to Truth's face lie. Then, Charity, throw open wide thy heart. Ay, as the temple-gates, for pity is As th' altar, which doth hallow every part ; But make wise Labour thy gatekeeper ; his Fine-winnowing fan will test the tricks of art And idlesse, where thy pity makes remiss. K5 STOA'ES FRO AT THE QUARRY; THE HEALING ART. Our cunning leeches, with prescriptive skill, Life's stronghold guard against Death's fell array, With herbs medicinal, whose virtues may Each gate of sense secure, and sustain still The vital forces and self-centred will ; .Simples of field and wood which th' operant ray Of sun and moon make sovereign 'gainst decay Of nature, and elixirs fine distil. Iron to fill the veins, and paint the rose On Beauty's cheek anew, or light the eye Of Love and Genius ; henbane, which grows On Lethe's edge ; the liquid subtlety Of silver, cause and cure of aches and woes — Spells to make grim Death rise, or pause, or fly. ENDOWMENTS AND MORTMAINS. Poor scheming Man the present Time would bind With parchment bonds and law's nice subtleties. And tie him up from use of feet and eyes. Like babe in swaddling-clothes ; and thinks to find The infant Hercules shaped to his mind. Vain hope ! he grows apace, in mind as size, Large brain, with new ideas, and rends these ties As Samson the green withs about him twined ; They dream the Future may enfeoffed be, t^ike lands and houses — that be which hath been : Dull Custom's thralls, seeing, they have not seen How from old sloughs the World itself doth free : How from rude chrysalis, in Hope's bright sheen, It spreads wide wings, and singeth jubilee ! CONTINUITY. As in a paper-mill, worked up again. All the old rags and paper-wastes of time, Refashioned, reappear in prose and rime — A tabula rasa for the Age's brain ; That, like its vehicle, though in new vein. Recast, rings the old world's memorial chime ; With lark-like notes of hopes high-pitched, sublime. As hearing and admission to obtain At heaven's gate. So passes on the Old Re-made : so Time doth, like a motley, wear A Jacob's coat of many colours — gold, Gold still bedusted ; tinsel, that doth flare And tarnish ; old and new that scarcely hold, A nd shame noor human nature when they tear ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 87 UNHEARD MELODIES. If music be in sound, what harmony Unspeakable in silence ! When above I gazing see majestically move Those countless orbs, that music of the eye, That wondrous concert, fills my soul with high And ravishing delight, as, interwove In subtle maze, they to my sight approve The time and measure of Infinity ! As swept thro' ether on Earth's whirling ball, That music makes in motion with the rest, Yet with no sound as loud as a leaf's fall, I watch them one by one left in the west ; Awed by their silence, upon God I call ; That sound alone can ease my o'erfraught breast ! THE SONNET. The sonnet is, in small, epitome Of that writ large might fill a poem — 'tis The Muse's single gem, Love's one snatched kiss, Not necklace, diadem, or Love made free O' Venus' realm, at large. As we may see In the least ray, upon analysis, All colours of the rainbow, so in this Pure beam of mental light all colours be, Intense in oneness. And as photograph Inversely may in nutshell ^ive large Whole ; Grand life be summed up m grand epitaph, So may in Sonnet breathe a mighty soul. (45) Great bulks hold much unwinnowed dross and chaff, But essences small compass can controul. THE BEST PRESCRIPTION, NOT IN THE PHARMACOPCEIA. Our leeches have a wondrous armoiy Of weapons to foil Death with in fair fight. His Deathship does not stoop to read and write, Or gravestone-morals point as he goes by ; Yet did he, from chance curiosity. E'er of the Pharmacopoeia get sight, He'd take out a diploma, M.D.'s right To practise his own speciality ! Drugs there for every human ache and pain That civilisation doth, self-sickened, make. Nay, drugs to cure drug-aches ; bane, counterbane ! But that best cure, preventive, for whose sake Death latest, gentlest comes, we seek in vain : Labour — worth all, li quantum suff. we take. (46) 88 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; MAMMON. "The poor, benighted, ignorant Hindoos," With elephant and tortoise symbolise And stay their world ; our legend, scarce more wise, Builds it on money-bags, and if the Muse For golden theme as golden pen not use, To blazon above all idolatries This the one saving faith, she but belies Her function, and blasphemes the god we chuse ! Think ye this " Tower of Babel " then will stand ? That the world's " final cause " is endless wealth ? On larger lines of being it is planned ; On minds and bodies wrought to perfect health. To serve Him by life homely, pure, yet grand, Who Himself grandly doeth good by stealth ! SHAKSPEAR'S SONNETS. In the strait-waistcoat of the Sonnet he. The mighty ; he, the " chartered libertine ; " His genius did "cabin, crib, confine." 'Tis as we Sampson in his withes should see ; Or earth on a small globe's epitome ; Or as a star should like a glow-wonn shine ! Did he these cramping fetters round him twine, To show close prisoners may still be free ? Yet greatness is not measured .by mere size. Keystones for Truth's great «rch we there may 'find ; Corner-stones, whence grand temples may arise ; Fragments, which yet give measure of the mind ; Blocks, which Titanic strengths alone suffice To shape and lift up to the place designed ! TO . Methinks the Graces had thee in joint care, And, at thy birth receiving thee, gave heed That only sweetest influences should feed Thy fancy ; that the gates of sense, which are Then opening, should admit none but most rare And delicate conceits ; and every need Of mind and nature with all best to speed Of gentlest, sweetest, in its kind most fair. Small wonder then that such a paragon Love saw, and, seeing, fell himself in love ! Played his own game, and aimed his darts anon. But found their fire quenched by one above ; So puts, like me, the humble suitor on, Nor strives to conquer, but, as Love, to move. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 89 TOO LATE !— TOO SOON ! Would I were later bom, or Time his pace Could quicken, that I might the things to be Behold, which in a glass I darkly see. As thro' smoke-darkened glass the sun's bright face ! My sight is dazed ; unsteadily I trace The outlines of that large Humanitie Which, on the horizon of the Future, free And grand, doth move in fuller, strength and grace. In hieroglyphics I seem thus to read : "No poverty is there ; no drones infest The hive, and on vicarious plenty feed. All work, for work is health, what each knows best. Wise distribution no excess doth breed, And Common Weal is Private Interest. ENGLAND. The lines in pleasant places unto thee Have fallen, O thou favoured of the isles ! The Ocean, Janus-like, divides his smiles 'Twixt thee on one side, and thy stany-free And mighty daughter on the other ; he Of him and his makes free, and reconciles Your loves, and cleanses from all that defiles Your robes of freedom sweeping either sea. Happy thy sons, whom threefold heritage, Three mighty lands, call with one mother-speech, To whom earth offers on each side a stage. In thy grand life and toil no break, no breach ! (47) Sea-Cybele, with many breasts ; at each Great offspring hast thou reared to stay thine age. DANTE'S " FRANCESCA DA RIMINI." " That day we read no more." Nature doth speak By Dante's lips. She spoke, and held her tongue. No more was to be, could be, said or sung Of that pathetic theme ! But wits more weak Play, dally with the passion o' 't, and with freak Of fancy overlay it ; it is flung To and fro like a ball, till that which wrung The heartstrings like Prometheus' eagle's beak Pecks like a dove ! O noble reticence ! With more than gift of tongues that left unsaid Doth say itself with passion's eloquence ; And hearts untold have read that line and bled For pity, pleading with that cry intense. O Genius ! thou canst almost raise the dead ! 90 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; SUDDEN PROSPERITY. When Fortune on the necks of her proud steeds Hath flung the reins, as if to reach the goal All in one heat, and o'er all letts to roll Her chariot-wheels, and seems to spurn all heeds ; And, on her mad course maddened, thy soul treads On air, and grasps at either golden pole, As children at the moon. That race, fond soul ! Like Phaeton's, to splendid ruin leads. Thou no more these than that rash fool could guide Those fiery coursers thro' the Zodiac, The Balance-sign soon passed, she sits beside And with soft smiles befools thee, while the black And vanward clouds of evil thVeat thy pride, Then hurls thee down, like a demoniac ! TO A FRIEND. O noble spirit and impartitive ! Thou'dst give thy very self away, if need Thereof were. Thou dost broadcast sow the seed. Nor seekest who shall reap, to whom Time give The glory, so long as it thrive and live. True labourer in the vineyard, thou thy meed Shalt miss not ; tho', like stars by day, we heed Thee not ; nor, tasting, know what bees the hive Have for us, thankless, filled. Go on ! Thy light Shall not be hid beneath a bushel ; yet Set on a hill, it shall shine forth in sight Of God, tho' unto men it seemeth set ! Tho' others enter in, and reap, with slight Endeavour, where ihine all the heat and sweat. WHAT WEATHERS THE STORM. Along Life's troubled shores the waves of Time Cast up its wastes and wreckage ; shores thick-strewn With old-world waifs ; not shone upon by moon Or sun, but light ideal (more sublime Than these comparatives, which make us clime And season), of God's truth the steadfast noon. With which those lustral waters in attune, (48) By ebb and flow, still cleanse from sin and crime Humanity's foul shores. On that wild sea What haughty ventures have puffed forth their sails With golden breaths of Fortune, soon to be Her jest and mock, and point historic tales ; While, bound on nobler quests, the argosie Of Truth by compass steers that never fails. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 91 WEALTH. The rich do fight with shadows, and, as one That beats the air, with unrealities. They spend themselves in vain ; weak Fancy sighs Over herself; tears sentimental nin At very trifles ; Sorrow looks upon Her image in the glass with dreamy eyes And idle tears ; while Labour hers soon dries, For, where " needs must," must comforts " must be done ! " Then welcome, thou true life of flesh and blood, In contact close with nature ! Stern may be Thy trials ; but thro' trials comes all good ; And strength to do and bear makes the true free. Away with dreams ! Life's crown must thorns include, And without sweat there is no victorie. THE MUSE IN THE DUMPS. My heart is sad ; my Pegasus, alas ! Has fallen lame, and, like a sorry hack, Trudges the dull high-road, in spite of thwack And spur ; all sorts of sorry jades do pass Him by ; nay, even the despised ass May teach him patience — lesson he doth lack. 'Tis well ; no fire strikes he from his track ; Yet, that grand lesson learned, he may surpass His betters yet. Then, Patience, get Thou up behind me ; let's ride dos a dos ; Thy pace is very sure,- if it be slow. Without thee greatest genius never yet Achieved the top o' Fame, made lasting show. He shone a meteor ; not calm planet set 'Midst stars in heaven, with steadfast light to glow ! DO AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY. Sweet Charity, permit me, tho' small need To ask thy kind allowance, whose prompt will Doth ever urge, where others would sit still, To run, and give the breast, and orphans feed, Or any gracious task of love to speed ; To cover with thy robe, which doth distill Such heavenly dews and sweets the place to fill, This poor lost sheep, lest unto death it bleed. Thy robe a multitude of sins doth hide ; Let me then humbly hope, while covering this Stray sheep's, I, with humility allied To thy diviner attribute, and His Above, may cover o'er my own beside ; Forgiving, and forgiven, double bliss ! 92 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; DAME NATURE. Wise Mother thou ; severe, yet truly kind ! In thy large lap thy sturdy children lie, And tug thy breasts in lusty infancy. And knead and press thy bosom, like the blind Rough lion-whelps, as not so much to find As force their mother-milk. Soon hand and eye Astir, thou thrust'st them forth to strive and try ; Necessity best whetstone of man's mind ! Not so in Fortune's lap the dainty-bred. Spoilt by their purblind mother ; others' eyes See for them still, with others' hands they're fed ; On crutches lean of others' wits ; their bread, Without Toil's noble leaven, will not rise ; Knaves dupe, and idleness doth paralyse. TO • . Thy presence is as gracious and as sweet As to condemned sinner a reprieve ; Such blessed message seem thy looks to leave ! So ministering angels, angels greet. As a May-morning fresh ; whose tempered heat Sweet airs from heaven variably relieve ; The dews and perfume of thy pure dawn cleave Unto thee, and thine eyes are Love's retreat. Methinks the nightingale to tune thine ear Sang to thy cradle — in all blessed sights And shapes good fairies did to thee appear ; Thine eyes the focuses of all delights. And to thy cradle, wondering, Love drew near, And dreamed he saw his Psyche by their lights. NIGHTINGALE AND POET. Setting his sweet throat 'gainst a thorn he sings, And bleeding sings, and singing ever bleeds, Melodious depletion ! The Swan's song precedes And preludes death. With such imaginings Fond legend hath endowed these twain with wings, Of air and water ; but the Poet reads Between the lines, interprets to his needs, And home unto himself the moral brings. He beats his wings against the cage's bars, And on the thorn of Doubt, with inward smart. His heart bleeds, and still opens its old scars. He 7!nisf believe and love, or all the stars Are eyeless sockets — Life, sea without chart, A Life-in-Death ; numbed, paralysed at heart I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 93 THE GOBLET OF LIFE. The wine is rich, and stirs itself aright, Lipping its margent with a ruby smiie ; Hope's bubbles freely rise, and burst the while ; And Pleasure mantles it to taste and sight. 'Twill set the heart on fire, and fill with light The airy brain ; make friendships, reconcile, Revive ; Care of self-consciousness beguile ; Love's pulses to the " double-quick " excite. The wine's right generous, up to the brim The goblet filled ; "Health and Long Life " the toa ! But tho' so sweet about the honey'd rim, A disguised bitter half belies its boast. Ay ! Death has mixed therein a foretaste dim And vague, which but with the last dregs is loit ! WHO'S RIGHT? " A dreamer of vain dreams." It may be so ; But there are dreams and visions. Some dreams pass Thro' th' ivory gate, which closes on them as On one, who forth will into darkness go On a fool's errand, whose end none e'er know, Or care for : some, as in a magic-glass. Foreshadow that which yet no being has. But which, like Jonah's gourd, may sudden grow, And change the world. My dreams will realise Themselves, as shadows which high mountains cast Far off at sunrise show real bulk and size ; Mine thro' the horn gate pass to li;^ht. Full fast This old day's sun doth set ; a new will rise On a new world, with light not of the Past ! THE QUESTION. (49) Between the upper and the nether millstone Of this most dread " To be or not to be," My heart, which can nor stay them nor yet flee, Is ground to powder ; and, in atoms blown, Life's hopes, loves, aspirations, joys, lie prone, Prone in the dust. Death's all, in all I see ; To all of Woman born, as unto me. He bars the way ; the gate shuts — all is done ! And is it so? Those gloomy gates ajar Stand not for long ; no gleam their darkness lights ; A vague, dread sound comes when they open are. To snatch their prey, with darkness that affrights ; Reverb of hoUowness, more dreadful far Than dire articulates, or defined sights ! 94 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; Terror beside it sits ; Terror struck dumb ! She lost her speech and reason, and came back, Scared by the sights she saw, a maniac ! She hath not opened lips since : they who come Her way, scarce look, and pass on trembling ; some Who question, ask no second ; on her track, That " Forlorn-Hope," the hardiest would be slack To follow, who have seen and marked her doom ! Yet three divinest forms oft there are seen, Together, or alone — together, strong As Death ; but singly not, nor now, I ween : Love, Faith, and Hope. The Present doth belong To Death ; to them the Future's brighter scene ; Their triune strengths may right Death's solveless wrong ! I must have Truth ! As in a dungeon, air To poor, pined prisoner, who at his bars Gasps for it, gasp I up at those bright stars For one breath of that Life Eternal-fair ; Without hope of which here, of itself there, We're as the beasts that perish — that doubt mars All, in all ; th' adamantine wall that scares And frowns, and hurls i' the dust who climb it dare ! I cannot take a fiction to my heart, Ixion-like, embrace it as divine ; As from pollution backward should I start. If Truth, Truth innermost, not thro' all shine. For her pure self, withouten guile or art, I love her ; let her then, O God, be mine ! THE ART OF KEEPING YOUNG. Old fable, dabbling in " black art " and spell. Life's ebbing tide re-turned in ^Eson's veins. Gave youth's hot pulses back, and seething brains. We too can magic circles draw, compel Spirits to rise, and Death and Time repel ; Enlarge our being with vicarious pains And joys, till more than " Plutarch's Lives" it gains, And Nestor's years, our many lives to tell ! Did we not dream with Jacob in Bethel ? Hear Hector cheer his wife ?— Love's choicest theme ! With Dante, disembodied, safe-pass "Hell ;" With Shakespear live all life, and dream all dream ? O true Magicians, Time and Death ye quell ; Re-youthed, immortal, while with you we seem ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 95 CRITICS, EXPLAIN YOUR EXPLANATION; OR, VARIORUM READINGS. ^ A knotty point indeed ! Like a "blind knot," Whence in a tree a trae branch shoukl have grown, So from this some right sense ; but none is shown — Nay, for one knot a dozen we have got ; Some commentators, too, blow cold and hot — Amid so many meanings meaning none ; They jostle, cross, renege, affirm, disown ; Confomid themselves, and say " Let light be not." Amid so many doubts poor Truth's hard set ; Nay, almost doubts her own identity, So many views she of herself doth get, Full, side, back, profile— do these mirrors lie ? If not, is she Truth, or a vile counterfeit? Few of us on all sides ourselves descry ! THE INNER LIFE. Oh, there are eyes that look from out the Past With sweet reproachful glances, and then close, As if they half reproached themselves for those Sad loving looks, which more than lightnings blast ! And there are shadows 'cross the sunshine cast, Which intercept Hope's light ; and — no one knows How, whence — sad, sudden a chill thro' us goes. As of Death's shadow, fore- or after-taste ! And there are still, small voices in the pause Of passion and self-love ; soft as a flower. Which yet have that which more than thunder awes, Fierce lightnings, from memorial clouds which lour O'er sleep, of outraged Truth ; before whose power Mortality's coarse clay cracks, flies, and flaws ! TO A MERE ANATOMY OF A MAN. Thou shrivelled wind-bag ! Take thee all in all, There is not fat enough to fry a sole About thee, — fish I mean, thou parchment-roll, Not th' other sort of soul, the spiritual ; Thou might'st be all soul, for anything we call A body proper. Thou'rt the merest droll And scrabbled form of man ; papyrus-scroll Of mummy ; man writ backwards, very small ! The best use one could turn thee to would be To bind in parchment (vellum thou'dst not make) Jest-book, or treatise on anatomic. How thou may'st feel within it makes one ache To think. How thy poor soul must long to flee, If soul thou hast, like martyr tied to stake ! 96 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; DISILLUSION. Man's inner education, of his mind, Of the self-life, ends with his life alone. "j In rainbow hues Hope's bubbles bright are blown '\ By Youth. Imagination, passion, blind The eye of Reason, with their glamour bind And trick the senses ; painting the Unknown And Future like Life's drop-scene ; all being shown Buskined, be-masked ; larger than life behind The scenes. With time those gaudy colours fly And fade ; the original clay of his false heart In Passion's furnace cooling rapidly, Cracks, flies, and flaws. His life now acts a part ; Costume and t?iise en scene ; and, by and by. Behind the scenes, Nature yields all to Art. REALIZATION. Self-education is the lifelong school Of inner Being. In our youth we live The life of Sense : those gates, wide open, give To Fancy's masquerade, Unreason's rule. Free entrance ; maskers, mummers, motley, fool, With bells and rattles ; strolling players ; who thrive On glamcjured Youth, whom Pleasure doth contrive To dance along and hoodwink, till bloods cool. Then, one by one, this gay and tinsel rout Reason thrusts out o' doors ; to her high task Herself addresses ; solves Life's aim and doubt ; Strips off from Error's face her shifting mask ; And in the grace and light, brought fully out. Of Truth's grand countenance, sublime doth bask ! "TO BE OR NOT TO BE?" Oh, to what cross our poor Humanity Is nailed and crucified ! Death worse than His, The good, the pure, the perfect Man ! Of bliss Undying the hope sustained Him thus to die The brief death of the flesh : eternity Before ; behind, the hope that He by His Great sacrifice had reconciled with kiss Of peace, sealed with His blood, the Deity And sinful man. But this cross is ''Despair : " And on it many deaths we die ; our hearts (Worse than Prometheus' fabled vulture) tear Fell doubts, and Hope at her own shadow starts ; And joys, which but for this pure virgins were, Deflower'd come, or still-born issue bear ! i OR, MOODS OF MIND. 97 PROCRASTINATION. O weak, unstable mind ! on purpose still Lags execution ever, like the hind On the forewheel, which rans on like the wind Ever away from thee ! Still up the hill Thou lazy creep'st, 'twixt " I won't " and " I will," To see thy purpose (almost as well blind) Adown the facile slopes of wishes wind Its futile way ; whilst thou dost, gaping, spill Life's golden sands. So runs the stream away From him who thus beside it sits and dreams, Who forward with it doth in fancy stray And sees it turning mills, with deepening streams Bearing its burdens and the heat of day ; While he, still purposing, in vacuo schemes ! "TRESPASSERS BEWARE." " Holloa there ! can't you read ? What business Have you here. Sir ; pray, what are you about ? " " Excuse me ! from the high-road I turned out Just to enjoy the landscape-loveliness With which the all-greatest Painter here doth bless The eyes of those not of the vulgar rout ; Who seeing see not, hearing hear not, doubt Of all that hand can't handle, purse possess. Alas ! Nature's own child's a trespasser ! He is not, like the lark and nightingale, Free of his own, tho' his heart worship her ! " Begone, poetic fool ! " The Golden Vale" Is Law's, not Nature's ; she herself doth err. And, for self-trespass, is thus put in jail ! A HINT TO POETS. As a shrewd breeder, when he taketh stock, And purposeth to raise a generous race Of steeds, in strength excelling as in pace, A noble strain of mingled bloods ; or flock Of silken-fleeced sheep, with close, fine lock Of wool on forehead ; looketh well to place The pick and prime of all for limb and grace. That the form-harmony no discords shock : So take thou. Poet, of thy thoughts stock too ; Set them in rank and file, and plumed array ; Fit well thy rimes and phrases, oft review. Some rimes assist ideas, others delay ; Some dead-lock ; others, like dance-partners gay And musical, deftly move the mazes thro'. H 98 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; THE " CITY " AT HIGH BUSINESS. The human tide nins now at top of flood, Close upon turning-point ; and by and by 'Twill ebb, and leave its human foreshores dry. (50) The main of Life is heaving here for Good And Evil, high and working ; rough and rude. The jostling waves 'whelm some, some lift on high ; While foam and bubbles of Man's vain hopes fly, The scud and scum of Fortune's shifting mood. Upon that seething tide rich argosies. And thriftless ventures challenge Fortune's smile. Dangling her golden lures in greedy eyes Of gambhng knaves and fools, both alike vile ; 'Mid cries of agony that bubbling rise From victims, catching at her straws, the while. THE CLEOPATRA OF SHAKSPEAR AND DRYDEN. (SI) A doughty tussle ! and 'tis " All for Love ; " A mighty theme for mightiest pens indeed ; Not the weak bleatings of the pastoral reed ; The lisping loves and cooings of the dove Of Corydon and Phyllis ; far above As Pegasus to livery-stable steed, " Hack'd out ; " ay, Love and Death here interplead, Like mighty opposites their full strengths j^rove ! 'Tis like Antaeus with great Hercules ; Strife tho' not of the flesh, but spirit ; dead "With dead (52) before, for Fame immortal's lease. And Fame must hold, or crown each honoured head. 'Tis Antony and Csesar ; such are these, No lesser strengths ; with Cleopatra's lead ! THE EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF THE "GREAT DUKE." Wilt ever thou dismount, old " Iron Duke," From thine old iron steed ? He sniffs in air Ethereal, vv'ith thee Fame's breath doth share Up yonder ; where thou thro' all time dost look, Stern and unmoved, like prophet, with the book Of Fate spread out before him ; as thou there Didst read thine England's future, yet not care To tell us truths our false pride ill could brook. If thou could'st speak, thy voice would in our ears Sound ominous as from his steed of bronze The Grand Commendatore's statue once ! (53) Base mother of base bastards, shames and fears, Thou'dst tell us Luxury was — Self-will denounce. And Self; which sap great nations' grand careers ! 4 OR, MOODS OF MIND. 99 SIR ISAAC NEWTON'S HOUSE. (54) If sermons be in stones, and God doth preach To Hstening ears and eyes in everything, Should not men nearer to their hearts then bring. In daily walk of life, in present reach And recognition, those grand souls who teach What God taught them ; that so may cleave and cling To things material some hallowing, And e'en the very bricks get gift of speech ? Behold unmarked YAi, house, whose soul could climb God's heights ; read heaven's hieroglyphic scroll ; And say, " Be light, thou Dark ! be clear, thou Dim ! " Beneath it Mammon's tides still heave and roll ; While of that larger day in which, through him, We walk, we reck not, but pay Mammon's toll ! TEARS. If precious tears should lachrymatories Enrich and consecrate to memory. Those rarest tear-drops of the Poet's eye. The Muses' tears, should be as pearls of price ! Seldom they come ; rare thunder-drops from skies Dark with the clouds of some great agony ; Yet rent with lightnings of the soul, which tly From pole to pole, 'thwart Life's dread mysteries. When with the shadow of Death, an angel fair Of light, he wrestles, and prevaileth nought, Siic/i tears his straining eyeballs in them bear. Or when, to top of inspiration wrought, His soul o'erflows the senses, which then are The golden bowl with Life and Love o'erfraught ! "FREE LOVE," WRIT LARGE. In this Cloaca Maxima (55), this sewer. This human vice-sewer, fouled Humanity Would stink i' the nose ; pollute the earth and sky With its miasma ; and as to the pure All things are pure, inversely so, be sure : Life's spring-head tainted, tainted would thereby Be all derivatives ; — Sword rust ; Pen lie ; Fall Altar ; the Penates not endure Their Hearth polluted ! No ! the Heavens would send Avenging angels ; ay, the loathsome State Would scourge itself, self-rotting to its end. All bonds unloosed, love be transformed to Ha:e Freedom would scorn ; the World it doth offend Blot out the page, and Time blush to relate ! H 2 loo STONES FROM THE QUARRY; "FREE LOVE," WRIT SMALL. O poor, deluded fool, what art thou now ? Thou who shoula 'st be clothed on with chastity And innocence, pure garments of the sky. Those robes of light ; a spell on thy pure brow Such as the lilies of the field not know In all their beauty ; on whose breasts should lie Thy little cherubs, and, as matronly Thou walk'st, men bless thee, and to Virtue bow ! What art thou now ? Scorn points her finger ; Shame Hath for the lily on thy pure brow set A leprosy ; thy sisters scorn thy name ; Men spurn ; of thy own no love dost thou get ! Withered within, without ; spent Passion's flame Thy heart in ashes leaves, dead, ere dead yet ! ENGLAND'S IDOLATRY. 'Tis writ large in the awful book of Fate, In golden characters that gleam and shine. As bright as Hope, in Mammon's eyes, divine ; As stereotyped ; a blank draft without date On Fortune's bank, discounted, and too late " Protested." Happy England, such lot thine! Beyond the nations favoured ; long thy line Shall run, nor of its glory jot abate ! Yet something is there "writ between the lines" Which Forecast trembles at : thy history Is written on a palimpsest ; there shines Through it what scared erst Babylon the high, " Mene, mene ! " (56) " Carthage " was there too by Time writ beneath thy name. Beware the signs ! TEARS. O Love, thy tears are precious legacies, Better than gold, for thee gold cannot buy ; And bitterly some hearts thou hast passed by, An angel in disguise, bewail the lies. The gilded chains they took for thy sweet ties. The gold of Midas feasteth but Hope's eye Awhile, to pine the heart and petrify ; Whilst mocking fiends laugh at their own device ! Yet are there te;irs more precious than thine own, Which still without thine could not better thine. S}ich tears in the rapt Poet's eyes are shown, When drank, but not with wine, with thoughts divine, Some quintessential drops of power unknown. Run o'er the cup, his heart's elixir fine ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. loi "TO BE OR NOT TO BE." O complement of all our happiness, While here we are, and in expectancy ; And, if attained, the bless'd reality And substance of all best we here possess ; Mere shadows all to that all-shadowless ! Mere dim prefigurements, to which all eye Hath seen, ear heard, or heart in ecstasy Of vision felt, is but a dream, or less. O God, to what a height that hope doth raise, But to make deeper, darker the abyss, Which its denial opens to our gaze. If extremes meet and opposites may kiss. To make the fearful opposites of this Dread circle meet, Thy Grace alone finds ways ! MOZART. If Harmony, descending from above, Should condescend to our Humanity, It is thy form she would put on ; 'tis by Thy soul she would enable us to prove Some echoes of those concerts up above I Dost thou bring them down to this earth, or high Above lift us up to them in the sky ? 'Tis one or other, and but small remove ! If such, and so supernal, be the spell That binds us, poor derivatives of thee, What must the spring-head be when first it well From such a soul, pure, elemental, free ! So high its source that we, who low down dwell. While within hearing seem in heaven to be ! LOVE. Love, e'en more than Reason, heavenly spark ! If aught our poor, cracked, flawed clay-nature can Make sound ; if furnace from the clay of man Can bake aught perfect, showing clear the " mark " Of the Great Potter, " Dove flown back to Ark,"(57) 'Tis thine, thine only. Angels' wings still fan Thy holy fires, and breaths Elysian, Lest they go out, and leave all cold and dark. 1 mean not Love which, of the flesh, partakes Of like infirmities, but that pure Love Which bears and forbears; heals our wounds and aclies; " Wise as the serpent, gentle as the dove," Which not in showing, but concealing takes A pride ; forgives, and leaves to Him above ! I02 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO . Oh if thy beauty admit parallel, Or sole-superlative comparative, What substance or what shadow can me give Or one or other, thee or thine to tell, And cheat blank absence with some semblable ! If substance, Perfects for perfection strive. Yet thy love betters every Best alive ; If shadow. Best to thy Best is but Well, But in so poor degree I I will not seek To parcel out in poor particulars Thy single excellence ; all speech were weak. All figures : as the moon with all her stars, So all thy handmaid graces to thy meek. Pure soul, whose beauty nothing earthly mars ! TIME. Of spendthrifts, worst of all who squander time. Who squanders wealth may gain by losing it ; But time once lost, nor gold recalls, nor wit ; You may e'en write its epitaph — a crime, Lese-Majesty it is 'gainst that sublime And holy loan of Life, for angels fit. If for God's service and jMan's benefit We consecrate our " talent " all to Him. Then waste not, but put out at interest In holy thoughts and works of love and peace ; So, as with many lives shalt thou be blest ; Thy time with compound interest shall increase, And the grand total He who lent invest As He thinks fit : Him only strive to please. IMMORTALITY. Do we, as, with a little painted air And shapely vapour mocked, Ixion thought He clasped Junonian charms, so strongly wrought Abused fancy, like delusion share ; Do we, beglamoured, dream that we too bear Exulting, with ethereal beauty fraught, Venus Urania, yet are only caught By a mirage, that mocks our blank despair ? Alas ! the nearer we approach, the more, Dislimning, air to air, that radiant shape Eludes our closer grasp, though struggling sore. Is it as when blank vacancy doth ape That with which (sense subdued) the mind runs o'er, Or mortal thought Life's subtleties escape ? OR, MOODS OF MIND. 103 SELF-RELIANCE. Fret not thy soul at trifles ; to do so Were greater wrong far than what causes it. 'Tis as with owls and bats that in dusk flit : Disperse them, and their true proportions show In Reason's daylight ; brooded o'er, they throw Their shadows far beyond themselves ; — as, lit By waning suns, we in the shadows sit Of distant mountains — thus, Far Near doth grow. Think not what others think of thee ; for 'tis Not thee, but their idea of thee they think : Their glass distorts, and shows its own amiss. Dare to be thine ownself, and let fools wink And sneer : of thine own substance is thy bliss ; Not shadow, with their thoughts to stretch and shrink. ON HEARING BEETHOVEN'S CHORAL SYMPHONY. My soul is stirred up in its depths ; the springs Of Being at their head are set aflow ! From deepest well Artesian as go The silver columns up, the fountain wings With larklike bound its upward way, and flings Athwart the sunny air a rainbow glow, Then falls in melody and spray below. And grateful, like a captive set free, sings ! Long without music my heart starved dolh pine, And turn, and gnaw itself ; a tuneless lyre. Whose strings not played on lose their accord fine. As to parched Earth the rain it doth desire, The first full notes are to this heart of mine, Big thunderdrops, aglow with Passion's fire ! THE TEMPLE OF THE SOUL. Build up thy soul on all sides, firm and strong ; Thou know'st not on which side the strain may come : Strength lies not in a part, but in the sum ; One flaw may set all else well-cared for wrong, Make wide the portals for processions long. High-days and festivals of thought, with hum Of congregated worshippers, struck dumb At first sight of the temple and the throng. Let the dome rise and commune with the sky, On all sides getting light, that none be lost. But most above, direct from the Most High, And for His glory spare nor pains nor cost. That in the Holy of Holies, even thy Own soul, He may be present, and there most. I04 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; SHAKSPEAR. The highest compliment we unconscious pay To this great vSpirit, circumambient As th' atmosphere, as th' ocean continent, Whence Earth, and all that breathes on it allay Their thirst, nor aught abate. Proof in this way Appears, that we to breathe him are content, Like the common air a common good ; and sent For larger life, a spiritual day. We find in him, as others at the sea From change of air, refreshment for our minds ; The sanative waters of Humanitie, Stirred ever, healthful made, by God's great winds ; By the pure Salt of Life kept sweet and free ; Mirror, where, calm, Man his true image finds ! AS THE LIGHT SO WE SEE. As is the light (thy Reason) ; as the same Is held, so do we vie\^ and judge of things. Life's lights and shadows, as thus held, it brings Out into more or less relief. The flame May flicker, flare, bum with a steady aim, Or dimly, with Rembrandtish umberings. Or gleams, as flashed some passing angel's wings. And 'thwart the light in flight fiends darkening came ! Great difference, too, as seen approached or passed ; As the light may be held in Reason's hand. Or Fancy's : golden lights of morning cast O'er all on the one side, with Hope's smiling band ; On th' other, cold and grey, and, lengthening fast. Memorial shadows, with night sad and grand. A VISION. Methought a wondrous form, all radiance, With coruscations like the Northern lights, To herald and prepare weak mortal sights For after glories, sudden took my glance. Odours undreamed of perfumed its advance. With airs from heaven dispersing bales and blights. Sphere-music, on which souls might take their flights, And looks — but oh ! light hid the countenance, Aud put out light ! Dazed, and recovering As one from trance, I turned once more to look— O Horror ! canst thou name the ghastly thing ? Behind, the form of skeleton it took ; And, backward, eyeless sockets vv'ithering Smote me like Death, that I with ague shook ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 105 TRUTFI. O terribly in earnest, Truth, art thou ! In vain we simulate, dissimulate, With thee ; pretence and seeming thou dost hate. Medusa-like, with terrible grand brow. Thy look doth wither up all mask and show, And petrify all False ; that its real state, Mere death in life, thy scathe may indicate. As lightning shows in blasted bole or bough. But all that's pure thou shinest harmless through, Transfiguring ; as unconsunied in The burning-bush God shone on Moses' view ! Is thy heart false ? Pluck out thy darling sin ; Melt out the dross, re-coin the residue. And let Truth stamp it of pure origin ! LABOUR IN VAIN. Think ye that Sisyphus' blank, aimless moan. Rolling his writhing stone with bootless strain. His heart still maddened, whirling still his brain With the still-whirling torture, made him own The sinner ? Did Ixion's wheel at-one (58) His soul with justice, or the balm contain Of mercy, which, while wounding for our gain, Drops in the wound, and melts the heart of stone To flesh again ? O dull of brain ! O blind Of heart ! for Wisdom's eyes are in the heart ; To Justice Mercy must lend hers, or find ! Wise-piirpos'd Labour more than heals its smart ; Doth rouse, raise, soften, thaw the heart, unbind ; Not outrage and embitter at first start. " KILLING TIME." This Life, or, rather, Death-in-Life ; this mock And travesty of life, where life doth turn And gnaw itself ; nought toiling for, doth earn And relish nought, as it deserves ; doth shock All moral sense ! Like idiot doth it knock And ring at Pleasure's gates, yet will not turn Away, nor " Not at home," writ large, discern On all the empty house and stand-still clock ! O fools ! who at the shadow clutch, and lose The substance in the lapsing stream of Time. True Pleasure, whose high name ye thus abuse. Ye know not — your lese-majesty and crime 'Gainst her, and all that in Man's life's sublime, She thus resents, and by loss teaches use ! io6 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; INVITA MINERVA. Severely beautiful, a virgin pure, Set high in spirit, with all daintiest skill Of hand ; all craft of brain, and subtle thrill Of passion and imagination ; sure And steadfast as the stars ; above all lure And flattery, thy love and favour till Full proof are slack ; but, once secured, distil Saboean balms and odours, that make poor The temple-incense ! Nothing without thee Can Man achieve ; thy subtle spirit thro' His brain doth course, like electricitie. Lo ! then, high raised in soul, he sees anew ; All delicate fancies come to him, and he Hath gift of tongues, and utterances true ! INFLUENCE FOR GOOD. Rebuke not over harshly, even Wrong ; "The still, small voice "be thine, that after thee Conscience may speak, and thunder if need be. Chide lesser errors gently with light thong Of Censure's lash, and that not over-long. Rouse not the rebel will to mutiny. Lest seven evil spirits, worse than he Thou would'st expel, return, and prove too strong. Use not thy own words, but let Charity Speak by thy lips, and with her gentle hand Cover the sins we do and suffer by. When thou would'st speak as one having command, Stand not on right, but as commissioned by Conscience, who in the place of God doth stand ! TRUTH. Art thou then ready, with Diogenes, In search of Truth, to say, "No stick shall me, How hard soe'er, drive from pursuit of thee ? "' This were not much for one who scorneth ease ; Whom Sybaritic loves and roses please Less than the sweat that makes and keeps men free. But if " Wilt thou give life my face to see ?" Medusa-like she ask, would'st thou then cease From search of her ? The whole heart she doth claim Thine eye must single be ; in thine own breast Thou nuist stand naked, nor ashamed nor shame, Before her ; their must thou show at thy best. No idol there must cheat thee in her name. Else Nemesis, not Truth, shall be thy guest ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 107 THE SELF-DUBBED " IMMORTALS." These mutual-admiration-mongers, each " Posing" before the glass of his self-love ; Self-smit to death, Narcissus-like ; above His fellows on Fame's heights, far out of reach, Self-glorified ; unto each other preach ThatVaith in each and all alone can prove Of saving virtue. So they pass round, and move The glass to show them off, and loudly teach Their Shibboleth ! Poor apes ! Fame, up on high, Smiles as their penny-trumpets puff and blow, Their scrannel-pipes of self-idolatry. And think them her grand trump, from forth which go The World's great voices ! From whose blast they'll fly Like chaff from threshing-floor, and no more show ! RECOVERED HEALTH. Oh how my thoughts do bound and rush along ! 'Tis Pegasus, just mounted for a run. The Muses, Phcebus' self, to see the fun, And on Parnassus' slopes the scent how strong. 'Tis Helicon in " spate," with confluent throng Of many waters, now drear Winter's gone. And all the mountain-tops have felt the sun, And hill and valley break forth into song. How all the pulses of Man's life do beat And throb, as if this fair world were re-made ; Life bursts at every pore, as at a heat ; Its thirst divine at fuller founts allayed. The true Elixir-vitae, nectar-sweet, Intoxicating like first love repayed ! ABSORBING OCCUPATIONS. (59) Thrice blessed Labour, how thou sweetenest all ! True honey-bee that fills the human hive Without with sweets, as that by which we live. The heart, within ; pure sweets that never pall ; True bag o' the bee, all honey and no gall ! Nay, thou dost make Life's very bitter give Sweetness and tone to minds, as bodies thrive On herbs bitter i' the mouth, medicinal And sweet i' the belly ! God be praised for thee ! With thee I have but one slight difference : Time's sands run so, all golden tho' they be, Life seems begun and ended in a sense : Extremes thus meet ; Toil, Idleness agree ; Both seem a blank ; one is—z. void immense ! io8 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE SONNET. The Sonnet is precisely as 'tis made. A random, crippled thing, with halting gait. A dwarf, who cannot carry off the state And air assumed. Conceited prig, betrayed By trick of voice and manner, ill arrayed In pompous phrases, without sense to mate. Prim fop, who daintily his breath doth bate. And smooths all down, flat, without light and shade. 'Tis of small stature, but of perfect size And shape, with every limb symmetrical ; A lofty forehead, and expressive eyes ; A voice sustained, full, and most musical ; Lips on which Hybla's fine-wrought honey lies, From which, like manna, wise words passing fall. THE ANGEL OF TRUTH. Oh how that awful look, and in thy hand That flaming sword, like his who from the gates Of Paradise, to death and unknown fates. Drove that first pair whom Sin did ban and brand, Drives me forth from this temple, wherein stand And stare like blocks the idols which God hates ; Stocks, stones, 'mid which Mammon gesticulates, And nods his golden head with assent bland ! It drives me from these vile hypocrisies. These lies, these draped lay-figures of Man's life, Into God's light, and Life's realities ; Where, plainly heard above this Babel-strife, He bids Man, called to higher destinies, Put off knave's mask and mumming fool's disguise ! "THE MISSING LINK;" OR, THE FETISH OF SCIENCE. (60) In a deep vision's high-symbolic scene Methought a temple rose ; for sacrifice All seemed prepared ; but to what Deities, Uncertain. The high altar there had been (By Science's own learned hand, I ween) Set forth with emblems and deep imageries Of Nature's creatures and her mysteries. In sequent order ; Man and these between All links, save one I Thereon a legend shone. Not "To the Unknown God," but, strange to say, "To the Unknown Link ! " Shortly came blandly on High Priests, but not priest-like ; and, to atone " Sin of Omission," oh most strange ! there lay The victim, Man ; and Science by to slay ! I OK, MOODS OF MIND. 109 REFLECTIONS ON THE PRECEDING. I had a glorious vision, not in dream, But wide-awake ; as lark who, on his vvings Morn's dews, a day of golden promise sings. Like hive at swarming time, my brain did scheme, And stir, and hum with thought : Hyblean theme Of Fancy ; heart on fire, kindling all things ; A live coal from Faith's altar. All the springs And fountains of Life's deeps aflow did seem, And broken up ! Alas ! that glorious day. With the stirred ashes of its hopes scarce warms The frost at heart ! Those bees no longer lay Up honey ; Hybla's flowers have lost their charms ; Faith's radiant form I clasp— it falls away, A skeleton, from my blank heart and arms ! THE COST OF TRUTH. Dub me mere coward, and afraid to look At mine own shadow, if I start aside From Truth, or shrink to pluck out all my pride Holds dearest, by the roots, as if I took A v,iper up, like Paul, and it off-shook Not from my hand, but heart ! By Truth abide I ever ; tho' she, with swift Time, outstride Man's petty pace and forecast. Life or Book ! High is her service ! In her altar-fire, If our right hand offend, that must we hold, Like the great Roman — burn our heart's desire, Like incense ; hold its ashes above gold ! Hard, too, her service ! There let none aspire. Not in this furnace baked, cast in this mould ! PLATFORM MOUNTEBANKS. 'Tis bad enough when breeched fools bestride Their hobby-horse and on the " Platform " trot ; Showing by what they are, what they are not ; With blatant utterance asinine, and pride That apes humility, the wordy tide Of nonsense, shallow Commonplace, and "rot" Of sickly sentiment all smoking hot. Tickling fools' ears, while the vexed walls deride ! But when a petticoated fool mounts bold Behind male folly, or trots out her own, Unsexing Reason as herself ; all told I' the feminine gender, and en chignon shown ; Saturn himself need both his grave sides hold, Minerva blush for women, and disown ! no STONES FROM THE QUARRY; A TRUE MAN. It does one good, the pleasure is so rare, To meet a noble, simple man, who is I All that he seems, and seems no more than this ; ' Who shows 'fore God and fellow-man four-square, Turn him which way you will, and lay him bare : Nay, the more naked, on analysis We that perceive which we before did miss ; A naked soul, seen in Truth's mirror, where She herself holds the light ! It does one good To warm one's heart at him ; to touch pure gold Coined, now and then, in God's similitude. His image there, His superscription, bold And free, writ large ; or e'en the nugget rude. Yet sterling, as yet neither bought nor sold. TRIAL BY JURY. Twelve men "packed" in a box ! Men, pray mean you, Or dummies? Well, they are not of the best ; They would not stand, I fear, his searching quest Who went about for one good man and true, Lanthorn in hand, by day. And, pray, what do These twelve wise, with whom England is thus blest (Greece had but seven Wise Men), 'bove the rest ■ O' the world, with fools so many, wise so few ? ' A sort of twelve-brain power unanimous, A mind collective, 'tis set to decide Vexed questions, which six ne'er agreed on thus. Yet to this pillar the State's roof is tied ; Let no blind Samson bring it dowTi on us ! 'Tis Justice' symbol, and the People's pride. THE JURY-BOX. The Jury-box is but a packing-case. With twelve men packed inside like geese, a«^ geese : Not to eat, drink, sleep, leave until they cease, Or else agree, to differ, with one face ; Like Janus, looking, with a wise grimace. Two ways, yet going all one same, to please Grave Justice, who doth hum, and haw, and sneeze At the quaint humour o' 't, yet with a good grace. In Reason's light 'tis thus. But Time makes more And less, and adds and takes ; to shadow turns Substance ; to substance shadow, and throws o'er Old forms (else skeletons in funeral urns). These flesh and blood belongings, this old lore And faith, to which the popular heart still yearns. OR, MOODS OF MIND. \ 1 1 THE BALLOT. With the old-fashioned Jury-box — so old, The oldest antiquary could invent Scarce anything more to his heart's content — We've got the Ballot-box, where Truth blindfold As Justice, need not blush at nor behold Attempts to frighten, bribe, or circumvent Our model voter, but, tho' somewhat pent, Nestle, and turn up her sweet nose at gold ! Alas ! 'tis all " about it and about it." Shams, substitutes in place of the real thing. As a bad woman careth not a whit For virtue, but unto its name will cling ! O Honesty ! Man's pride ! thy clothes fools fit Lay-figiires with, but thyself \ho^ must bring ! TRUTH. With fear and longing blent I raise thy veil. Dread-beautiful, and beautiful as dread. If inward-aught from outward may be read. Yet my hand trembles ; Expectation pale A-tiptoe stands, and Hope doth sudden fail. Chameleon-like, with Fear alternated ; Like him, betrothed from childhood, when first led To his veiled bride, for lifelong weal or bale ! O Beautiful ! Not larger or more grand, With level glance at sunrise as beheld. With calm and beauty aweing all the land. The face of Memphian Sphinx ! And yet, repelled, A poor ephemeron of to-day I stand In thy eternal presence, awed and quelled ! TOO LATE. Oh how much golden fruit of sweetest taste, Of prophylactic, rarest excellence, Or rich memorial aromas, whence The days then future, now, alas ! long past (Fruits light-esteemed then, and left to waste). Might have been so embalmed to heart and sense, Their flavours so conserved and so intense, That even now their virtues would outlast All sequent sweetnesses ! O ye divine Hesperian apples ! golden fruitage sweet Of youth and love, no more can ye be mine, Intoxicating heart and brain ! That heat Divine yields but one crop, of taste so fine The tree of Life no second can repeat ! 112 STO.VES FROM THE QUARRY; THE STARS, OR POSSIBILITIES OF EXISTENCE. As those bright worlds in mystic circles fly, In sequent order Life on Life doth rise, Being on Being ; with strange subtleties Of sense, and scope of brain, of ear, of eye. Who knows but we ourselves may be watched by Beings to whom we are mere atomies. Crawling on this poor molehill here, ant-size, To their amusement, when they deign to spy Our motions ! Limits there are none until We come to God, the Be-all, End-all One ! Eyes there may be that in one sense fulfil Both telescope and microscope ; (6i) Sense none E'er dreamt of, not five sense-lets. What God will He makes ; Archangel or ephemeron ! A NEW ACT OF THE LIFE-DRAMA. When this old World shook as with ague-fit. Its mighty framework and compacted form Was rent and riven, like ship in a storm. Dim fear of Change perplexed Human wit, And the World's magic-glass reflected it In forecast shadows ; and their fatal term Old worn-out Faiths, gnawed out at heart by worm Of Doubt and Change, had reached, when God saw fit: There went a loud wail over sea and land. As Nature were in throes of Birth and Death Co-instant ; Time did listen but not stand ; "Great Pan is dead," all Nature languisheth ! Lo ! now through all again there goes God's breath Of Change, and Life and Death are hand to hand ! TO . O all ye little rosy Loves that flit And flutter round my heart, and all ye too, Ye tender, melting doves that bill and coo, As if ye meant to build your nests in it ; Are ye forerunners — and oh, what more fit ? — Of her to whom is dedicated true The temple of this heart ? Oh come then to And build about it, nor your sweet nests quit : That for her coming so all ready be. And, seeing, by your lov'd mansionry, the air To be so delicate, and all so free For gentlest things to harbour, how and where They please, and all things else so well agree, To make all perfect, her sweet self lodge there I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 113 THE DEATH OF NELSON. When that great spirit from its tabernacle Of flesh departed through the gates of Fame And Death, they stood as mutes, till thro' he came. Then both with joined breaths his name did swell, And blew it forth, a word of power, a spell, A talisman, while England is the same. His Country gasped, as if that blow did aim Right at the heart, and for awhile could quell. England was stunned : the news of victory Read like an epitaph ; between the lines Of the "All-hail" Death wrote " All's vanity." So artist, when some gixat work he designs. Some passionate piece, to fill heart, mind, and eye, High lights, deep shadows, grandly massed, combines. THE BALLOT. The salt of life, of life political. As social, is outspoken manliness ; To be, not seem ; to set forth the express And absolute presentment, image, call It what you will, of our true selves, in all Things honest and of good report, no less In deed than word, and not to mask and dress, Deceiving and ^^//-hypocritical. Concealment is in kind dishonesty. And cowardice, where public duty calls : Such taints soon spread. The State's grand outline by All secrecy is dimmed ; its image falls More shadowy ; Public yields to Private tie ; First downward step, till, Freedom lost, Life crawls. CHANGE. Time out o^ mind, that quaint old lunatic. In second childishness, with backward look And crablike gait, cons, like a riddle-book. This Present, changing like a juggler's trick, Or a sensation-play ; with pace so quick And weighted safety-valve. Ill can he brook Its fast, new-fangled ways ; and, all-forsook. Maunders, of himself and all else heart-sick. " Finality " is not writ on the sky. Nor on the earth ; it is a word unknown In Life's vernacular. Writ large on high Stars on that azure scroll write " Change ; " change shown While writing ; writ small here is earth's reply. One changeth all, Himself unchanged alone ! I 1 14 STONES FR OM THE Q UARR V ; PLAYING OUT. Oh whence that music, of such range and sweep That if Archangels strike the lyre, it might (So absolute the touch, so infinite The chords) be theirs ; so lap the soul and steep, And cheat Death's stroke, or still arrested keep So far beyond our thoughts in depth and height, That Being itself seems indefinite, Suspended midway, in trance sweet and deep ! But once that harmony is heard by Man. It plays his life out ; plays it o'er again ! Transposed in minor key, time changed, and plan, "The original theme " in the pathetic strain Still reappears ; what ends with what began ; And something more, which these cannot contain ! TRADE VERSUS WAR. Fair Commerce, many-breasted, and with lap Filled with earth's varied store from pole to pole, All winds thy wings are, for thee all seas roll. Thine the true cornucopia ; thine to wrap The naked savage, spin his cotton, shape His life by lower wants for higher goal ; And clothe, as erst his body, then his soul, And near to God draw him not far from ape ! Handmaid of Civilisation, in thy train, Tho' not of thee, nor calling themselves thine, The Muses and the Graces, to thy gain For recognition of their gifts divine Indebted come. By thee sweet Peace doth reign. And Earth's waste places laugh with corn and wine ! THIS BALL OF EARTH. Earth heaves herself up out of darkness, strong And swift, and, like a garment flings aside ; To put Morn's beauty on, and, like a bride, Meet the great Sun, who once again doth long To see her face. So, singing her sphere-song. With all her seas in ebb and flow of tide, Her mountains, rivers streaming far and wide. With nations at her breasts, she whirls among Her sister-planets ! O most wondrous sight ! As on, with music in her motion, there She moves, I soar, a disembodied sprite. With this, then. His all-seeing view compare Before whom countless worlds roll in His light. Like motes, Himself the Sun, and everywhere ! I OJ?, MOODS OF MIND. 115 THE ANGEL OF DEATH. When Faith and Hope lead Death in by the hand, To take surrender of our mortal lease. Lease not " renewable on lives," with these Two forms angelic he a presence bland Assumes, of suasion rather than command. A disguised angel himself, one who frees ; Like him who did from durance vile release The Apostle, wisting not, so doth he stand. Then gently these his mask a little raise, And show not that which freezes mortal blood, But a calm, fathomless, Sphinx-riddle face. But should these twain be absent, then his mood Were terrible indeed ; his look affrays. And makes us shudder as doomed spirits would ! DAWN OVER THE ATLANTIC IN KERRY. I'm drunk, but not with wine ! This air, so free It seems as for the first time Being drew In breath, so pure, elastic, fresh, life-new, Intoxicates ; the breath of the great sea, Whose salutary brine from leprosy Of Custom, cleanses ; with refreshments too Of soul, (as body's health,) in boundless view Self-imaged : as God just said ' Let light be.' 'Tis like the World's first act — all-glorious, As from creation'^ furnace reddening. The mountains rise ; then cool down, luminous In virgin light. God is in everything. Sky, ocean, sun, earth, soul, ubiquitous ! O moment, like the first wave of Time's wing ! THE IRONY OF LIFE. The light of long-set suns is in thine eyes. Hope, like a spendthrift, his inheritance Hath mortgaged, spent his substance in advance : Grim Death, by his apparitors, applies Now for his bond, with o'er-due usuries. And shrewdly will foreclose, with the first chance. With doting Memory thou dost romance. And thy old stocks and stones dost canonise In niches of the Past ! Thy treble-voice, " Excelsior " once shouting, scarce would blow A penny-trumpet : tJwu, whom Fame did noise Abroad, the mock of passing fools shalt grow. Eat dirt, O Pride ; 'tis diet with large choice ! Or for Gorilla sit, and Man forego ! I 2 1 1 6 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; ACTUALITIES AND POSSIBILITIES. How many splendours dost thou quench, O Sun ! Thou showest but the Little and the Near ; The Vast, the Countless, in thine absence clear, Thy presence makes a blank of light, and none ! As darkness is thy light ! By it we run Our petty daily human course down here. But see no more those wonders of the sphere. Which, like the countless eyes of Night, late shone. If Earth rolled due-round, not obliquely, we Might then behold, but for the sun so bright. The Southern Cross, and all the galaxy Of constellations which that pole delight ; Which, blinded by like cause in like degree. Would miss, like us, half the transcendent sight ! ECLIPSE. A horror of great darkness all around Lies on my soul ; darkness that one may feel ; It interpenetrates, through all doth steal Like a dead, icy, heart-chill ; so profound And numb, that veiy Being seems ice-bound ! O God ! in mercy Thyself now reveal ; Break of this living tomb the sevenfold seal : ij Buried alive, I feel as underground. w\ Cast me not off ! from this dumb, living tomb My muffled anguish hear : in mercy give A resurrection from this awful doom. My soul is heavy unto death ; I live (If life it be where Hope no more doth come) To wrestle with Despair, with Death to strive ! .1 WIT AND HUMOUR. If Wit, the brilliant of such temper fine. To such sharp facettes cut, and prism-like wrought, And to cut which like diamond must be sought, Were soft as it is hard, could melt as shine. And interchangeable tears and smiles combine, Like a sweet April-day, with rainbow thought (Like dying dolphin), light- and shadow-fraught, 'Twould be like Humour, as good wine to wine. But subtle Humour is an essence rare, Touches to finer issues than mere Wit ; Which, like the Northern lights, leaves cold the air Through which its brilliant coruscations flit. Humour is as the thunder-clouds, which bear Heat, quickening drops, and flashes of light emit. OR, MOODS OF MIND. \i1 THE OLD. What ails thee, poor old man ? Thy heartis sad ; Bowed is thy head, thy soul more bowed within ; 'Tis full of human-kindness, but the sin (Not thine) of Age turns the milk sour and bad ! Thou lov'st God's little ones ; their sunshine glad AVould make thee sunshine, but thy smile can't win An answering smile — they life for thee begin In thought, but thought of age they none have had. Youth shuns thee, on its path a shadow thrown ; The strong despise, who in thy age not see, As in a glass, sad forecast of their own. Woman, who should console, shuns, mocks at thee ; She hateth age, and all by which 'tis shown : Age, too, itself doth shun, its shadow flee. PRODUCTION OF SPECIES BY SELECTION. Nature begins her wondrous series Of being so low that the microscope Itself is key not fine enough to ope The complex wards of the chamber, where at ease She works her wonders ; rising by degrees So nice, that Fancy in her widest scope, With all art's, reason's aids, is forced to grope For the lost clue of her fine subtleties. Ascending in her scale, we come to Man, Her " opus magnum ;" — did she stay her hand In blind self-consciousness of finished plan. Or could no more materials command ? Could her great hand no higher Being span. Or higher worlds alone give scope more grand ? THE MILKY WAY. (62) At distance (the bare thought of which meseems Like leaning o'er some fathomless abyss, Where the brain reels and the sight dazzled is). Like some strange shore of Fancy's aiiy themes. Whose sands are diamonds, far beyond far, it gleams And shimmers, like some mystic isle, in this All-boundless azure ocean, where we miss Our way in truths stranger than wildest dreams ! My soul is crushed beneath immensity. Not only does Man's reason prostrate fall, Imagination droops her wings, to fly Unable and afraid — greatest how small. Wisest as fool, before this mystery, Whence echo none answers our yearning call I Ii8 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; PROGRESS. If the great spirits, who in bygone daj's Moulded Man's life with their Promethean thought, And handed on the torch, by one now caught, Now by another, till all shared its rays, Were raised again ; how would they stand at gaze,. And shade their eyes, and stare like men distraught ; Unlearn, and go to school, who all once taught.; Giants bechilded : such are time and place ! Nature would with strange births in labour seem, Chimeras, portents, wonders ! Plato's brain With its first issue M^ould, reissued, teem, New-birth'd : some, like Empedocles, again After three thousand years would find their theme The rage, and need no proxy to explain. (63) ESSENTIAL LIFE. Are we like rain-drops falling in the sea, (64) Which re-absorbs and re-evaporates. Giving these particles new tenns and dates Of function and of Being, thus set free ? Or is Life some electric subtletie. Some "callida junctura," which creates, By atoms nice-affined, our loves and hates, Wit, wisdom, folly, madness, soiTow, glee? The needle-point of nice experiment Has touched the nerve of Life, and made it thrill. Yet were it matter all-indifferent Wher (65) Matter think or not. This cannot kill The Soul: He who makes Matter competent To think, can make it think on if He will. DEATH NOT IN THE POT, BUT PEN. Some have been rimed to death ; some killed outright By shrewd Iambics : that fair trinity Lampooned of old, Lycambe's daughters three. Preferring halter to the viperish spite Archilochus in his Iambic bite And snarl infused ; so on his tomb we see Wasps settle ; not the Muse's honey-bee. With hived sweets, whose stings are few and slight. Our peril is of being Newspapered, Be-magaaned, be-booked to death. It were A mercy if some uncreating Word Would strike half dumb ; or, our poor wits to spare, Make quintessentially be read or heard. Or, as by Aaron's rod the serpents, fare ! I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 119 THE " SELECTION " THEORY. If Nature, tentative through ages long, Gaining experience, and, so to say, Trj'ing her 'prentice-hand in eveiy way, Strove all to fashion best, and not go wrong ; Corrected errors, weak replaced with strong. Imperfect with more perfect, till the play Of elements so subtilised this clay. That Man was made, with reasoning brain and tongue ; If thus far, why not further ? Why should she Stop thus at Man, nor further trial make? Why should her Be-all and her End-all be A Being, who conceits that for his sake All else is made ; when Mind in him we see Its first self-conscious upward step thus take ! ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. The narrow senses over-ride Man's mind. And into circumscription put his Thought ; Tie up the wings of th' Imagination, caught And birdlimed, by the shows of things confined ; Strike flat the Earth's rotundity, and bind Him down with countless threads by Custom wrought, Like Gulliver by Lilliputians caujht. That seeing he sees not, or but purblind. Our senses serve us well ; but when, as here, They have no correspondence with true sight, 'Tis like blind leading blind. • Far o'er the clear, Calm sea, a vessel's topmasts thought invite ; And the grand mirror convex doth appear, (66) Not flat : thus Science may set Nature right. UNITED ITALY. Thy fair head resting on the Alps ; thy feet Dipped in the blue waves betwixt thee and Greece, Which undecided flow, yet both would please. Thou best, basking in thy sun thy sweet And gracious form, full of divinest heat And procreant force, coquetting at thine ease W^ith, thy own beauty in those twofold seas. Two mirrors, where thy lines of beauty meet. Beautiful Juliet 1 beautiful a)id free. Arise, and make thy toilette in the glass Of Freedom ! Lo I thy bridegroom comes to thee, Thy Romeo ; let the Circe-cup then pass For ever from thy lips — thou his, thine he ; And let your kiss the seal of Freedom be ! I20 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LORD ROSS'S TELESCOPE. {67) If Argus' hundred eyes were all in one, And five times multiplied, and all those five One'd in a single Cyclop's eye to give A cumulative glance ; even such, and none Of weaker sight, could hold comparison With that of mechanism superlative, That eye of Science, which doth Space deprive Of distance, and look through Creation. 'Tis wonderful ! Yet when we contemplate That measurelessly-greater wonder still, The problem to be solved, our breath we bate, And feel that Man no larger space doth fill — Is no more, at his best, and best estate. Than fly upon the wheel, with all his skill I THE ILIAD. In that grand poem Homer showed his Greece Her "very fonn and pressure ;" to her face Held up the mirror, caught her in her grace And strength of mood, idealising these Into heroic attitudes, to please And to instruct Mankind. Of time and place The fleeting scenes and figures he did trace, And fix for ever on the stage, with lease Of larger life. Troy did not fall in vain. Nor were ten years in Time's great count ill sp-^nt. That gave the world a Homer, and such gain. In that grand mirror too, Greece, well content To see herself, thenceforth did strive and strain To rise to height of that great argument. TIME. Time is the worst of foes, or best of friends ; Make him the last then. How unwise it were To be on ill terms, not bear and forbear With one who still stays with us, with us wends, Sits at our board, by our bed-side attends, In health or sickness, good or evil fare ! We cannot cut him, bow, or coldly stare ; The acquaintance once begun he7-e never ends. Serve him in youth well, he will thee in age. No change of fortune puts him from our side ; Still is he with us, on or off the stage ; Barefoot in rags, or in our coach doth ride ! In jail, like debtor ; and at court, like page ; Plenty of proofs he'll give, however tried ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 121 THE BOUNDLESS. When gazing at the sky with thought intense, I spread Imagination's wings, and soar, And see this planet shine with countless more ; The Milky Way, with stars begemmed so dense, Yet distant, that the blended shimmer thence Seems but a mist — handful of diamonds, o'er The azure flung, yon Pleiads— without shore This space, this ocean, beyond thought immense ; I lose myself, and know not what or where I am. Like a phantasmagoria All seems : myself ; this universe so fair And wondrous ! Yet realities these are ; 'Tis I that, like a passing shadow, dare Not ask the Whence or Whither, or how far ! MUSIC. As magnet atoms, draws the crowd to hear The music ; moved in his or her degree And kind, to sadness, pity, love, joy, glee. As now some stop of Hope's clear pipe may cheer. Or Memory's string just steal half-conscious tear. As plays that outward music it sets free The deeper, inner, of Humanitie, Which the heart hears with its fine inner ear. The music plays unto the crowd, the crowd Plays unto me ; each human instrument In perfect tune, or softly played or loud : Pipes of strange stop, through which life-breath is sent ; Strings, heart-strings fine, to touch which might make proud Whoso hath that most rare accomplishment. WHAT MAKES A GREAT NATION. (68) Rank poison in the veins lurks of the State, And taints the social life of all its blood. When law, miscall'd ; Civil-war, rather, of Good And Evil — contravenes (thus breeding hate And harm) that higher law which doth create True Body-Politic, with lofty mood And recognition by the multitude Of Right and Wrong, perdurable as Fate! He is the statesman who, with single eye To this and God, makes Conscience his one rule : Whose laws writ large, like the stars in the sky, Are seen of all ; a nation's noblest school To teach Right, Order, Law, and set it high In soul, yet proud to kneel at Law's footstool. 122 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; INFANT-TRAINING. j Let the first sounds that greet the infant ear \. Be pure and healthy : tones of voice may teach, And looks are lessons fully within reach. The A B C of love, long ere they hear The sweet woni syllabled, may be learned clear : The thing itself will better sermons preach Than puipits ; its observance spare the breach Of God's commandments more than threats and fear. Let their first songs be bird-like melodies, Simple, yet beautiful ; Mozartean ! And ever, larklike, rising to the skies. That pure taste, formed, remain as it began. Print, picture, floor-tile, (69) in dumb-eloquent wise. Reach heart through eyes, and form the futui-e Man ! THE LIGHTS OF ALL TIME ; A LIBRARY- SUGGESTION. As o'er the shelves my eye, embodying, roams, First one then other Fame o'er-halo'd name. Like beacon-lights along Time's headlands flame. Or as, in place of consecrated tomes. Shrines of Man's thought, and spiritual homes. Star on star from imagined darkness came ; Fixed stars, self-luminous, and aye the same, From each of which a region-radiance comes ! Some shine in clusters, like the Pleiades ; Some with a splendour all their own ; alone, Like Lyra, shining for some end express : A constellation in themselves ; and kno\vn, Like the Pole-star, of all. Shakspear 'mid these Shines with a light diffusive, all his own. HEALTH. Thou pure and perfect diamond, one, sole. And single ; sum and complement of bliss. All-self-containing, most of all-else is. O Health ! Thou indivisible, pure Whole ! Once lost, Life's light unfocus'd is and dull; And all we see shows false, or tastes amiss. From thee Love filched the Nectar of his kiss, And Beauty from thy matchless palette stole Her living roses ! Nay, the Poet's pen Loses its flourish and its flow divine ; No more stirs Eloquence the hearts of men. Wit has no point or edge, Fancy no fine And larklike flights, but mopes in batlike den, And Soul itself is a forsaken shrine. OR, MOODS OF MIND. \2l SWITZERLAND, Lift up, O ye that are free, and make free, Ay, " free of no mean city," all who here Can feel their souls at sight of you grow clear. And breathe the breath ye breathe, and Custom flee ; Lift up your heads, ye Mountains ; let Man see In you and your lake-mirrors far and near The grandeur and the beauty which endear This Earth to us, and make us bend the knee As at God's altar ! Sing aloud His praise, Ye thunders, rolling as to wake the dead ; Ye torrents, voicing Him in choral race ; Ye forests, whisper Him in solemn dread. Earth hath still, here and there, a holy place. Wherein her beauty may be worshipped. MODERN LUXURY. Our "world" is so bedizened, gilded ; so French-polished, vamped up with upholsteiy, With outward form and favour of the eye. That Life doth scarce with all these trappings go ; Like a Lord Mayor's coach, all gilt and show. O'er the smooth surface of " Society" The scum and scurf creeps on : in luxury, Like stagnant pool. Life loses depth and flow ! Its salt and flavour, and diviner force. Wit's thrust and parry, the keen repartee. Minds that scorn harness, and dull Fashion's course. Discountenanced withdraw ; these must move free. Like athletes ; touch their mother-earth, true source Of strength, crushed 'neath Wealth's heavy panoply ! When noble natures meet to satisfy The primal sense of Human brotherhood, To mingle sympathies for common good. And measure strengths in healthful rivalry, They do not, like swine in a gorgeous stye, Together come for sake of dainty food. With pampered appetites and jaded mood. Peacocks, with small brain and much finery ! Feasts Life should have, where Man may, licensed, go The full length of his tether ; cast off, loose Convention's bonds, and Life's free movements know. But we of social life the noble use Destroy, when made, like a Lord Mayor's show, To pace forth, for mere pomp senseless excuse. 124 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE LOVE THAT WANETH NOT. For his sweet Rachel Jacob seven years Of service passed, and thought them but a day ; Gilded by Love and Hope, his work seemed play, His sands all golden. Love, who all endears, Filled his heart's treasure-house with those rich years ; As the seven years of plenty did purvey For Egypt's granaries, and kept away All dearth, so Love made good all life's arrears ! So much can love for Woman ! But there is Love beyond Woman's or for Woman : Love, Which not some seven years will bide its bliss, But seven times seven will its truth approve ! The Muse may coldly smile, may oft dismiss. But the true Poet's love at length will move ! "TO BE, OR NOT TO BE," AGAIN. O God, is this poor Human Life of ours Earthy, like earth, to which it cleaves and clings ? And must we, then, forego the chrysalis-wings, Prefigured hope of higher life and powers ? Oh must it, sei-pent-like, 'mid all these flowers Of Eden, belly-crawl (with creeping things That trail o'er all our high imaginings) And eat the dust, and, with the passing hours. Return to dust ? Hope, chilled, turns sudden pale, And might sit for the portrait of Despair ! No conscious Life endures that life should fail : (70) The " wish is father to the thought ; " so fair, So dear the child, that passing ache or ail Affrights ; what, then, if Death its portion were? Live we, then, in a mere Fools'-Paradise ? Have I this goblet, then, for Nectar drained. Glorious intoxication ! have I strained, In thirst divine, my lips and energies To take my fill of this wine of the skies. To find it honeyed but at brim, with feigned And disguised flavours of the earth contained W^ithin ; a Circe-cup of fine-drugged lies ? O God ! what perfumes hung about the brim. Of youth, and hope, and love ! What rainbow rays Played round the edge ! what lights divine did skim The surface, what reflections ! all-aljlaze With Life ; that, drinking, heart and brain did swim ; And Life so all in all, Death had no place ! i OR, MOODS OF MIND. 125 THE INNER LIFE. Thy good deeds, like a spring-head out of sight, Unknown, its pure source fed with heavenly dews. And present only in the blessed use Men have of it, tho' few that use requite, Should flow unto themselves, with a delight As secret, pure, intrinsic (lest they lose Their blessing), as the Poet's with his Muse, Or prayer that would to Heaven uplift its flight. Like gi-een oasis in some else parched waste, A hidden fountain of delight, this keeps The heart fresh, gives Life its diviner taste. Oh then defile it not. If other reaps Where thou hast sown, or with thy praise is graced. Such voyage but Life's shallows, thou its deeps ! DEATH AND THE PUBLISHER. Our fashions alter as our manners turn : 'Twas " body-snatching " and anatomy ; Science was " subject "-stinted, and bid high. 'Tis right the living from the dead should learn. When dead fetch more than they could living earn ! We've changed the fashion somewhat; when men die We dig them up, but metaphorically ; " Soul-snatch ! " lest Death their memory inum ! Well, 'tis a " resurrection " anyhow ! Perhaps the only one defunct will have ! If a man's name an honest penny nozv Be worth, his "friends" to " snatch" his memory crave. Well, let " celebrities " to fashion bow. And, leading better lives, their credit save ! MAN, PROUD MAN ! Man is a very Icarus ; with wings Of waxen self-conceit he soars on high. As he true denizen were of the sky. To the manner born ! But the Old Adam clings, Th' original clay cleaves to him, and dovra brings Headlong this angel in expectancy ; Poor, featherless biped ! his sham wings wofully Singed by Truth's light, which beats fierce on and flings This moth back, scorched, to Nothing ! Then he blows His fancy-bubbles with "immortal " breath. And pufis into Eternity ! Fair shows, Hope-touched to wish ! on bladders swims, and saith. In pride of heart, " I cannot sink ; " but Death With a mere pin-point pricks, and out all goes ! I 126 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE PAST. As the years fall behind us, in the rear j And backward of our time, 'tis like the tide 1 When it has ebbed far out, and left a wide And lonesome waste of sand and seaweed drear ; With waifs and strays of lost ones, wreck of dear And precious freightage, cast for aye aside Amid Time's wastes ; and (more) what it doth hide, That cold, remorseless sand, which we shall ne'er Again have sense of ! Hollow sound the waves, More muffled, distant ; voices of the Past, Dim, vague, and sad, as they ebb out o'er gi'aves, With gathering darkness and the moaning blast, , To that dread Deep, where Hope ail-vainly craves, With seaward gaze, glimpse of returning mast ! THE GRASSHOPPER. If there be drunkenness of joy, not wine, And true "teetotallers" on water may Get tipsy, and the harmless fact betray, Intoxicatiorr so pure and so fine Must thine be, earth-bom sprite ! drunk on sunshine And dew, Aurora's vintage ; morning-ray Distilled with dewdrops, to make thy heart gay ; Blithe as lark's voice in sky, on earth is thine. Ay, Nature's ear would have one joy the less, If of thy cheerful song Earth were bereft, And Man have less to bless him and to bless. Thou art a link, which lost, a blank were left In Nature's concert ; and, tho' small the stress She lays on thee, ill would she brook that theft ! YOUTH. How short, O Youth, thy lease ! Flower overblown Ere we can dream it needed gathering ! Brief draught of Nectar, yet so ravishing That the intoxication is not known, The sweet delirium recognised, till gone ! Elixir-goblet, drained ere we can bring Our lips away, and, anguished, from us fling The empty cup, incredulous 'tis done ! Time draws his mortgage, shrewd old usurer ! With Hope, confiding Hope, to witness it, Who takes all in good part, tout de bon caur : While Youth, all present pleasure and small wit. Draws on the future, and doth debts incur ; Then Time forecloses soon as he sees fit ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 127 DIVINE PHILOSOPHY. In the thin air of fine Philosophj', At such great altitudes too rarefied For mortal sense, Man's wits, without a guide, Like a puffed bladder, mount him up so high Above this nether world's reality. That to himself he almost in his pride Archangel seems, to whom God might confide His secret counsels, and Life's mystery. Vain insect, brief ephemeron, poor mote In the Eternal sunbeam ! the pure light Intense of Truth doth make thy weak brain dote ; With blindness worse than owl's at mid-day smite. Back to thy Earth ! That too with thee doth float, Fly on the wheel, speck in the Infinite ! THE DARK SIDE. Than fox more cunning, lecherous than goat ; Than tiger cruel, subtle beyond snake ; Than peacock vain ! These instances for sake Of analogue, not parallel, I quote ; Poor, weak comparatives ! Brute doth not gloat On fellow-slaughter ; leopard note doth take Of kindred spots ; Man prey of Man doth make : He only slayeth self, alone doth dote ! (71) This "paragon of animals" doth yield In friendship to the dog ; no friend e'er died For friend. Pock-mark the face ; see Love revealed As Lust, who under that sweet mask did hide His leprous brows ! Keep thy heart's secret sealed From bosom-friend, ay, from wife by thy side ! CONSISTENCY. There's something scarcely "canny," in a sense ; A sort of incantation-scene, a "scare," With magic circle, spells for foul or fair. Just as "the Spirits " give or take offence, Willing or subpoenaed to give evidence, In summoning our " Fetch " to upper air. Our former Selves : just to see what we were ; 'Twixt shadow, substance what the difference ! How Self and quasi-Self would mutual stare, Not realising quite " Identity ! " Allowing for Time's needful wear and tear, Our coat of many colours, fit to vie With Jacob's, our pure "Double " ill could bear, So Quaker-like in drab consistency ! 128 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; EVENING. O Hesperus, thou sprinklest with thy dews Love's wings, frayed somewhat by the garish day, And fresh'nest-up his pinions for soft play. Now of his starry eyes having full use, And other light not needing, nor excuse Save thy sweet signal, lighting by the way Thy glow-worm lamps, forth flies he to purvey Delights which would Aurora's cheeks suffuse With blushes not of dawn ! O Hesperus, Thou bringest more than garish day ; thy light So tender, sulxlued, and ambiguous, Throws around Love that charm indefinite, Which leaves Imagination full scope thus To paint his portrait to the inner sight ! AT HOME. How many dare to knock at their own door, And have with Self a quiet tete-a-tete, Quite to themselves, and quite dispassionate ; A quiet " at home ; " with only that One more Who must be, just to help make up the score ! Thy soul " in undress " dar'st thou contemplate, In Truth's unflattering glass, thy naked state, That which behind is as well as before ? Happy the man who there can Self survey, Nor, looking down, behold "the cloven foot ; " Nor up, the Satyr's horns ; nor in the clay Of poor Humanity such flaws, that brute (Say our Gorilla-coz. ) would turn away, And "Man " disown, scorning to follow suit ! AURORA VERSUS BACCHUS. The gifts of Bacchus precious are ; the vine Hath healing, more than simples of the wood ; It gladdeneth man's heart, reddeneth his blood, Makes his brain forgetive, his wit to shine ; Nay, Tnith is not more in a well than wine. All things are, just as used, evil or good ; Good in excess hath evil neighbourhood, And ill things, well-conditioned, well incline. Bacchus and /Esculapius, then, are friends. But Health in person present, and most is Where fresh Aurora's rosy vintage blends (72) Mom's dews and rays electric, at which his Life-torch Prometheus kindled, and she lends To this elixir a Nectarean bliss. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 129 WOMEN'S RIGHTS. (73) Ye are self-judged ; ye your ownselves arraign, When loss of rights imagined ye lament : Had ye the duties which are complement To these fulfilled, as blessings ye would gain Those rights, which barren else must come and vain, Life's tmripe fruits. For Mothers ye were meant ; And with that master-key might be content To hold the treasure-house of heart and brain. Had ye that reverence for woman's name Ye claim for it, your reverence would beget The like ; your practice would attest your claim. On your pure brows, a true phylactery set, Virtue would awe, and put cheap wits to shame, With "grace divine " and Rights not counterfeit ! NATURE BELOW THE SURFACE. Round every Human Soul, now dim, now clear. More or less distant from circumference. According to the centre-point from whence 'Tis drawn, a magic circle lies, a sphere Of ignored Being, till therein appear The evil Spirits, on some dark pretence Of passion, some blind motion of brute sense ; Then yawn the depths beneath us, black and drear ! Ay, in Man's secret Soul, in sullen den, The evil Spirits, spell-bound, lie in wait, Till, like wild beasts at taste of blood of men. They start to life, evoked by rage or hate. Then, as possessed, he maddens out ; and, when They're laid, the shrine leave rent and desecrate ! SAPPHO ANTIQUE. Bright star of eve ! by thy sweet light beguiled All sweet things come. The roseate innocence Of Love, that dares to be without pretence. And wear its truth, like garment undefiled. Not above sense, and yet soul-reconciled And raised ; pure, primitive, direct, intense : Innocent as the flowers ; the heart's incense ; Mom-dews of Love, yet guileless as a child ! Large-hearted Woman ! with the articulate And perfumed breath of thy most passionate song Thou didst a flame of Love so pure create, Didst fan it up so high, blow it so strong, That the mere reflex warms the world thus late, (74) With after-glow so lingering and so long ! K I30 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; METEMPSYCHOSIS, OR SAPPHO MODERN; (ELIZABETH BARRETT). (75) Did Sappho's large soul pass on into thee, In search of tabernacle feminine As her own sweet embodiment ; a shrine As exquisite, whose fine-pitched nerves might be Living lyre-strings of subtlest harmonie ? Twin-emanation both of One Divine, Your tuneable sweet spirits in one twine. One Womanhood, one Soul of Poesie ! Methinks if Hamadryad, among men Deigning to sojourn, sought a fit disguise, She would in such sweet fomi, with such fine pen, J Enrapture (lying perdue) and surprise ! 1 Sweet Nymph ! twofold thy nature ; denizen With men, yet Spirit-free of earth and skies ! HUMAN PERFECTIBILITY? Shall we breed pigs or angels, men or sheep ? I All chance of a Millennium lies here, ' And whether of Gorilla Man keep clear ! Whether we reach our Being's height, or creep Still pigmies, and made faces at by ape ; Such in comparison ! If Men we'd rear, Perfect as pigs, we must to rules adhere, And strict to "species by selection" keep, Hope, like an angel, holds ajar this door. And gives us glimpses of the Promised Land. But "I will " and " I won't," as evermore, _ J There wrangle; while Love, jealous, waves his brand, \ And with sweet rhetoric beyond schoolmen's lore, Draws half the host of heaven from Wisdom's band. WEALTHY AND LUXURIOUS OLD AGE. A laughing devil holds the cup to thee ; The wine doth move itself aright ; it glows As thy young blood ere Age " at zero " froze : 'Tis Tokay, Chambertin — a doctor's fee Each bottle ; but the best things disagree When on the horse's neck Indulgence throws The reins ; so this " gods' Nectar " mocking flows, A Tantalus-cup thy pined lip must flee. Thy doctor too doth at thy table sit, A moral scarecrow, and thy feast doth make Like Sancho Panza's, who, with hunger bit, Dined by the eye, and fast on fancy brake ! So that of all tliy wealth thou wert well quit, To fill thy belly, and thy thirst to slake ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 131 PEACE. Oh blessed be the conquerors of Peace, Crowned with the olive dropping fatness o'er The lands ; who with the gentle plough restore The war-scarr'd Earth to plenty and to ease ; Make her hills laugh with vine, with corn her leas \ Blessed the hands that drop the grain and store The sheaf, and Ceres' horn-of-plenty pour O'er the waste places, with the golden fleece ! And blessed be the hands that spin and weave To clothe the naked ; blessed be the steam Which peace-begirdles Earth, and still doth leave The world behind it changing like a dream ! Blessed the Word, sacred and lay, doth heave Man's mind up from its depths, and make it teem ! ALLEGORY OF THE FUTURE. The World's agape with portents, prodigies ; Faith quails ; for nothing is but what is not ! Time labours with some wondrous self-begot New birth, after his kind, Prometheus-wise, Creation half of earth, half of the skies ; Which from his large brain, fervid and glowing-hot, With mighty throes and high-ordained lot, Minerva-like, a fateful birth, shall rise ! Cast in a larger, nobler, grander mould. Larger of heart and brain, with wider range Of Being than the birtlis he bore of old, Which, Saturn-like, he doth devour and change ; This later birth shall a new world unfold, Peace and Goodwill on earth, Man before Gold ! A FAMILIAR COLLOQUY. Said I, sore puzzled, in a tete-H-tite, To myself confidentially, "Whence, Pray, camest thou, and whither goest hence ; Thy former what, and what thy future state ? " Self paused in thought, as if consulting Fate, Or casting some dark horoscope — all's dense As outer darkness to blind groping sense ; Said he : " There's neither time, nor place, nor date !" Said I : "We have lived long enough, 1 trow, In the same house together ; slept in bed And sat at board, and yet each other know No more than perfect strangers or the dead ! " " 'Tis true," adds he ; "we come as shadows, so Depart ; self by self as blind by blind led ! " K2 132 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; A FASHIONABLE DINNER SET-OUT. Ye gods, what dazzling splendours ! Is this then The hall of Plutus and his treasury ? Has Midas been here, turning all things by His touch to gold, the most befooled of men ? To take an inventory would need a pen Of gold, a style blazoned like heraldry ; But my poor pen of steel is hard and dry, Fine flourishes to it are alien. O bless'd Diogenes ! I'd rather wear Thy thread-bare cloak, with a good appetite, Than all this load of empty, splendid care ! Life's vain " impedimenta " crush out quite The relish of Humanity ; ay, tear The heart out, and all Love and Friendship blight ! "TIME-KILLERS." Strong on the wing is Time, and hard to kill ! He dozes not, nor pauses in his flight. Whoso seize opportunity aright, (As one who vaults upon a steed that's ill To catch), may take him by the forelock ; till He bears them to their purpose hold him tight : Such only keep him even well in sight ; Who miss, run ever hind to fore-wheel still ! And deem ye such an one will strwe. your turn, Ye drones of Pleasure, whom the true bees keep Who in her treadmill nought produce nor earn ? No ! with the rush of his great wings he'll sweep Ye off' into his wastes, still just if stern. To rot on the great Human refuse-heap ! "TO BE OR NOT TO BE." As one who with the sea all round about, While not a speck upon the horizon wide, That hope can shape a sail of is descried ; And the fierce waves come tumbling in mad rout, Swallowing the strip of sand whence he looks out, Too anguished, fear-confused, to quite decide Whether the tide has turned, or on which side O' the balance Life and Death hang still in doubt ! Such is Man's outlook, when the waves of Time Have narrowed thus his standing-ground, unless He reach that Rock which rears its head sublime. But oh ! what waves of doubts upon him press. The rock how slippery ! Faintheartedness Comes o'er him, and he sinks, afraid to climb ! j.a OR, MOODS OF MIA D. I33 "ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE." 'Tis very pretty fooling on the stage Before the foothghts here ! The piece is well Placed on the stage too, quite vraisemblable : The actors passion well their parts ; fool, sage ; Young, old, to the life ; laugh, drivel, weep, or rage, Love, plot, cheat, quarrel ; that one scarce can tell The trick o' 't. See Buskin now stalk, spout, and swell ; Now the light Sock, aping, like antick page, " My lord's "fine airs. So runs Man's life away ; Farce, tragi-comic ; tragedy ; now " mad As a March-hare ;" anon " sick, sorry, and sad." Then comes old " Sour" behind the scenes so gay. Makes a wry face at spangles, paint, and pad ; Prick'd the big child's' big dnim, played out the play ! REASON. Not with the pride which apes humility, But with magnanimous submission, bow Thy head to Reason, that she on thy brow May set her seal, and single make thine eye, To see (not darkly as thro' a glass we spy The sun) how she supreme in all is, how She shines ; nor other than her weights allow In her fine scales, the poise to falsify. Upon her true high-altar sacrifice Thy heart's eidola, tho' they with the grace Of Circe plead ; tho' anguish be the price Like Jephthah's, when he saw his daughter's face ! These, with the Beautiful which never dies. The True which ne'er deceives, she will replace ! TIME A MERELY HUMAN IDEA : A NIGHT-THOUGHT. Unutterably grand, in so profound And absolute silence that it doth oppress ; To which voice like his in the wilderness. Crying, " Repent, repent," would be a sound And sense of deep'st relief,— ay, tho' we found Our Judge awaiting us ; greater and less Yon worlds move on with countless throng and press, Yet so symmetrical, on their vast round ! There is no Time nor Space, Beginning, End ! Upon this whirling ball of Earth we men By day and night and year, as it doth wend. With time and season, the brief "Now " and " Then " Of our poor span mete out, nor comprehend The mighty Circle, without " Where" or " When ! " 134 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; HARMONIC PAUSES IN MUSIC. The music pauses ; holds its breadth, as 'twere : 'Tis Music listening to itself awhile. Yet, thro' the pause, imagined strains beguile The listening ear of Silence, with a rare And sweet ad libitum ; snatches of air Divine, in which, in its own higher style (Sweet as old yearning home-tune to exile), The soul preludes and doth itself prepare. , As fabled Arethusa, lost to sight. With all her flowing beauties in the sea, Her fountained head beyond reared up more bright And full ; so, lost to ear, the melodie Flows on thro' depths of silence and delight, T' unlock its heart with Music's golden key ! AN ALLEGORY. Dark is the entrance, gloomy is the way ; Downward it seems to point, beyond all guess ; No triple Horror barks to bar ingress, No Cerberus ; no visible let or stay ; No Gorgon dire. No place here for the play Of fancy ; dread realities oppress : Here, naked, Terror doth herself undress, Vague-flitting amid darkness and decay ! But a short way the Light of Nature throws Its flickering gleam, only to make more dread The shadows ; Reason somewhat further goes ; But her light, too, is soon extinguished In the dense air ; Faith with her torch more shows, But, with her light soon lost, gropes 'mid the dead ! PRIDE OF WEALTH. Proud soul ! put off thy pride, thy pride of place, The purple and fine linen of thy high And palmy state, which hide Humanity. Put on, for once, the lowly garb of grace, Humility, in thy esteem as base As sackcloth and as ashes ; physic thy Proud stomach with sight of mortality, And lift the mask which hides its and thy face ! Go strip thee naked, and thyself behold In that plain-spoken glass, and therein see With thy own eyes what thou hast ne'er been told. Poor forked thing ; thou mere anatomic ! Thou dead-alive, mummy in cloth of gold ! Go, prick thee with a ^ia—fed and flesh be ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 135 SHAKSPEAR'S SONNETS. Thy thoughts and fancies are so exquisite, It seems as if, like the sweet flowers, they grew, With Phoebus' sunshine, Hehconian dew. Immortal growths ; tho' blooming in men's sight, Yet growing to themselves, for self-delight ; To be their only end and aim, and through Perfection of all perfume, shape, and hue. To show self-growth at its supremest height. Methinks the phrase and thought so sweetly fit, That they no more a different form could wear Than the rose other than what maketh it ; Its perfume, colour, and belongings fair ; Take one away, and " Rose " were wrongly writ : So these self-same must be, uniquely rare ! NO ANSWER! Like him i' the fairy-tale, I've laid mine ear Close to the earth and listened ; not indeed To hear the grass grow, but for greater need ; If haply some Earth-whisper I might hear, As from her old Trophonian cave, brought clear, Oracular response ; that hope to feed. For which my soul doth more intensely plead Than sentenced prisoner for poor life here ! And I have listened if some sound might come From those blue depths, those orbs so silent-bright. As still as Death ; but they, like Earth, are dumb ; And strained my eyes to see if traced in light. In moving hieroglyphics wondersome. That "Word" the Hand Divine might cursive write ! THE NEW PROMETHEUS, AFTER J. S. MILL'S "PRESCRIPTION." Our " Frankenstein " of Brain compact ! No beat Of heart, no fancy, twinkle of the eye. No human weaknesses, false notes, belie Our New Prometheus ; sheer from crown to feet Cast-steel'd, in brain-proof panoply complete ! No tribute of a tear, no passing sigh For victims claimed by stern Philosophy ; Hers the sole altar, hers the incense sweet ! Pluck " the old woman " out ! broomstick and cat Were sent to the Devil long ago, I trow ; Let " Devil " follow suit, with owl and bat ! No hankering for Old Egypt's flesh-pots ; vow And prayer to gods of clay ! Reason holds at The Temple's gates the keys, not Peter now ! 136 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE NEW PROMETHEUS AND ER6s. Alack ! poor Cupid ! thy imagined reign Will have brief lease : Venus and all her doves ; Billings and cooings, kisses and rosy loves, And all thy sweet belongings ; all the pain And bliss embalm'd in fine, erotic strain, Like flies in amber ; nymphs, swains, flowers, groves ; Our New Prometheus with a breath removes And blights, as Winter Flora's painted train ! Use well thy time then, shoot thine arrows true ; Let Procreation thrive while yet it may. Our New Prometheus breeds as Jove would do. By the brain — th' antique. Hermaphroditic way , Minerva-like brain-offspring, all brain, too ; Not like our brats, after this flesh of clay ! ON SHAKSPEAR'S PROFOUND SONNET (CXXHI), "NO! TIME, THOU SHALT NOT BOAST." Great Soul ! with what an unregarding hand Thou boldest up old Egypt's wonderments ! And measuring not by inches, but intents And inwards, with a most assured stand And self-stayed equipoise, like grains of sand, Or children's playthings, these chief arguments Of that weak wonder which the eye contents, Dost weigh, and of Time's juggleries demand A shrewd account ! He is a conjuror, And with his glamour all things double grow ; What thus is now is not so in an hour ! Mere appertainings make things such and so To light esteem ; but thou, wise Monitor, The "More " in "Less," and " Less " in " More " dost show ! HAMLET. Ay, 'tis the shadow thrown upon the wall ! His autotype ; great Shakspear's own profile. As Hamlet stands bemused, see ! it doth steal Beyond him, darkly on the sunshine fall. The light of Reason ; intercepting all Life's warmth and glow ! The depths themselves revea'. Yawns the old chasm nothmg can conceal ; Whence rises th' Evil Spirit at Man's call, " Diabolus," (76) the Doubter ! deeper far . Than that i' the Forum, Curtius' feigned leap ! Higher he swells than from th' Arabian deep The Genj rising mist-like from his jar ! At the Sphinx-gate thy soul did knocking keep Like meaner wits, with them there on a par ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. I37, CONSISTENCY. A Jacob's coat of many colours rare Our Statesmen's ! With a new patch every now And then, as fashions change. That anyhow Looks queer ; for New and Old but ill compare ; And the " reversible Paletot" may tear ! A pretty coat, "Consistency," I vow ; "All wool ; " self-colour, fast too, I allow : But who are they that make it, and who wear? Such garment quaint 's not kept in stock or store ; 'Twould be moth-eaten ere it found a sale. If Life at end wear what at start it wore Words for such " in-consistency " would fail ! Time " fits " us as we grow— still one patch more ! Fools motley wear ! and Wise too, tho' Fools rad ! THE FUTURE. The World is waking up ! the herald-lark At widest stretch of wing and strain of throat Doth cap all former flight, all highest note. To sing-in the New Morning, from the dark Like an angel of light's foreshining presence ! Hark ! The notes fall full from clouds that golden float, Like the big thunder-drops the Earth doth gloat And quicken on, when parched, andbaked, and stark. The scales are falling from the eyes long-blind Of groping Faith, touched by the hght divine ; She grasps the angel Hope, and fast doth bind ; Like Jacob, looses not, till he a sign Make"s likes the vision'd angel, and behind Leaves, thus constrain'd, a blessing on Mankmd ! HAMLET. We lift the mask ! " Hamlet, the Dane," is gone ; 'Tis our own Shakspear, with a moody eye, Grim humour in 't ; not the light pleasantry To shake a FalstafTs sides, and wounding none, But lightnings which make corpse and skeleton ! Strong is the earth-taint of Mortality O'er all. Love, Madness, Crime, Death, blindly ply Their mortal instruments, till Death has won ! Ay, thy grand soul was high and working there ; The strong old " leaven" made thy thoughts to rise And swell. Prometheus-like, with that Despair To strive ; put "speculation " in its eyes ; And make the clay-form breathe immortal air ; Th' inflated chest just heaves, mocks Life, and dies ! 138 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; "LET US EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY FOR TO-MORROW WE DIE." Ay, ye may play "Diabolus," gibe, sneer, Out-Mephistopheles himself, and scoff ; Like Faust, your fine Elixir-vitse quaff Of wit, all lusts of flesh, passion, good cheer ; And o'er the brimming cup of Pleasure leer At hai'lots : hollow soon will grow your laugh. Empty the cup, and, the feast-dress put off. With filthy spueings end your brief career ! This were not Life, were Death all ye suppose. Sternly the Moral Law upholdeth Good : Life's circle from this centre only knows Coherence, strength ; without this bond it would Soon fall away from Human neighbourhood, And fitly with a Pandemonium close ! HAMLET AGAIN. " To be or not to be ! " Ay, there we have The key-note of the symphony ; 'tis all In "flats," like prelude to a funeral ! One from, doth usher many to the grave ! 'Tis like a funeral procession ; save That those who walk in it, whom we should call Chief mourners, in the grave themselves all fall ! While thou, pure swanlike victim, Love, dost rave And make Death sing ! Full of /■//«/ question dread Was Hamlet ; yet the black sheep doth the rest (77) O' the flock not taint ; they might elsewhere be breJ. E'en the gravediggers, 'i the thick o' 't, jest ! The players laugh and rant, and earn their b His soul like Lethe clogs, on its dark quest ! AN ENIGMA. My Psyche ! have I then at last caught sight of thy sweet Self, revealed by light divine ! Am I then worthy of thy love — of thine. Adorable, supremely-exquisite ! Not Hope all-flushed and roseate in the light Of youth and morning ; not, with eyes that shine. Twin evening stars, and lips fresh from the brine, In beauty's halo, Venus half so bright ! At last ! and wilt thou deign, a denizen (Angel disguised) of this dull Earth, to cheer With thy celestial presence now and then ? Hope holds thee by one hand, by th' other Fear, And each seems other ! No ! thou art with men No dweller ; take me hence, then, to thy sphere ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 139 OUR "WAR SPECIAL." (78) How daintily they paint the sickening scene ! With quaint, picked terms and nicely-balanced phrase ; Wreathing with cypress bloody as their bays Each battle-field where Death has reaped so clean ! And sniff the scent of carnage ; from some screen Of safety with their "glass" the horrors trace, And dog Death on his rounds ; and catch the face Of flawed Humanity, and o'er it lean And gloat ! And mixing on their palette blood And tears, Man turned to fiend with zest portray ; And Earth to Hell, not Hell's similitude ! While lively " skits," quaint humours (as beasts play With mangled bones), relieve War's darker mood, Eest from " her vomit " " Sensation " turn away ! DITTO. Armed cap-h-pie in golden panoply Of Mammon, with that passe-partmt, that key To unlock doors and hearts, to bind and free, Our new Knights-errant on their mission fly To encounter, pen in rest, vicariously. Perils and strange mischance, with bug and flea. Curare cittern (hide and belly), see Apt "legend" of this Paper-chivalry ! If they do sweat, 'tis, dog-like, at the tongue ; Not one o' Hercules' labours ; if they wound, 'Tis reputations ; ne'er themselves among The wounded, with the kites and crows they're found. Carrion Death leaves in scorn ; and when are sung The Paeans, loud their penny-trumpets sound ! WORK. (79) No Phantom this, that mocks as we pursue And flying wounds us, Parthian-like, with dart Of disappointment rankling in the heart ; No " treasure-trove," that glitters in our view, But glides, like quicksilver, our fingers through : Gift of blind Chance to her blind counterpart, Folly, who thinks to clutch at life's first start (Blind leading blind) the laby'rinth's dark clue. No ! thou dost neither mislead nor betray, Wise Labour ! Thou dost on thyself rely. Not " treasure-trove," and mak'st blind Fortune stay Her wheel, and take the bandage from her eye ; And Time for thee doth store each passing day, The aftermath of happy Memory ! I40 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE PIANO-FORTE. How smooth, expressive, and symmetrical, So tempting touch, and so alluring sight ! No ripple of sweet sound their surface bright Disturbs, that yields to lightest finger-fall. Silent those warbling voices, great and small : Those larklike trebles, mounting airy-light. Like the bird's sweet notes lost in heaven's height ; Those basses which like deep unto deep call. How, when a Mozart's spell upon them lies. They flow on waves of region-harmony. Or simple-subtle, bird-like melodies ! Or when Beethoven mingles low and high, The depths are stirred, preluding thunders rise. And Harmony, like Jove, descends the sky. PRIDE. I am not proud : I have looked on the sea In calm sublime, and felt its grand rebuke. As if God in His shadow thence did look ! In storm, rebuking with dread majestic Man's impotence ; vain shadows his and he ! I have looked on the stars, till I could brook No longer their dread silence, like the book Of Fate, strange hieroglyphics with no key ! From heaven, as gently as Love plucks a flower, I've seen the sun withdrawn, and seem to cease : Man, shaken like a reed, in anguished hour ; Crush'd moth ! surrendering to Death Life's lease .' Humbler than threshold of the temple-door My soul is, when God passes through in these ! THE ALTAR AND THE VICTIM : ESOTERIC. Since the first dawn of reason ; ay, since first My mind unclosed, like flower to the sun. As yet a lily pure, and colours none ; On dews of youth and light's clear effluence nurst ; I have to thee, O Truth, turned with a thirst Unquenchable ; surrendering one by one, ' Self-victims at thine altar to atone, My cherished faiths, and held my Best as Worst ! Held all of dearest cheap exchange for thee ; The Life of Life with life of flesh to earn ! O cruel ! bitter is thy mockery ! Thine altars worse than Moloch's, Baal's be. They asked but human victims ; thou dost yearn For Souls ; and slay'st outright while setting free I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 141 OLD CLO' ! Time, like an old-clothes-man, hath in stock and store All sorts of garb and gear ; all fashions, old And new, threadbare and recent ; tinsel ; gold ; All " properties " of all stage parts played o'er And o'er again, and those now played no more, Or shortly to be as a tale that's told. Mitres, crowns, ermines, lawn-sleeves ; garments rolled In blood ; Fool's cap and bells ; odds rich and poor. All the "make-up " of Life's great masquerade : With Joseph's-coats of many a colour pied ; And-patched from Sire to Son, of every shade. Even that robe for purest virgin-bride. Truth's dove-white robe, is there so long uplaid, 'Tis oft, when aired, moth-eaten found and frayed ! NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN. How many minds have with the self-same thought. In divers ages, distant regions, gone In labour ; brain-throes many, the child one ! Jove-births, Minerva-like ! brain-issue, wrought In Jove-like brains, with self-conception fraught ! Yet " damnable iteration " sees the sun. With pre-gestation, pre-delivery ; none Sole-self. Empedocles " Selection " taught. (80) Truths by Caesarean operations too Th' accoucheur Time saves from the dead Past's womb ! Second gestations, after-births, deemed new ; Th' old foetus dormant there as in a tomb ! Empedocles his child re-born might view, And both as father and god-father come ! MODERN LITERATURE, OR DELUGE NO. IL 'Tis hard work now to get a breathing-space. And keep our heads above the water ! Wave On wave the daily papers come, and crave The swimmer's skill to keep up in the race. Next a "trikumia" (8i), 'gainst which we brace Our nerves ; a roller huge, of matter grave ; With lighter crest of foam, in which we have Reviews, tales, poems, 'whelming us apace. Like a spent swunmer we must sink at last In the great sea of ink. ' ' Cave ab homine Unius libri !" Ah ! his day is past ! Had we all Argus' eyes vain would it be ; And brains to boot— not Hercules so vast, Not Pallas' self so wistful, (82) task did see. 142 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; YOUTH'S ILLUSIONS. Upon the threshold, hand upon the door, In eager attitude of straining eye And listening ear, as if by harmony Rapt from within, and glories there in store, A-tiptoe, pauses a bright form, before She turns the handle ; lest the mystery Should disappoint, the radiant vision fly, And fade in commonplace for evermore ! So Psyche saw her Cupid ; saw and lost ! 'Tis Hope upon Life's threshold, heart on fire ; Fire that, soon cooled down, scarce thaws the frost At heart fulfilled or unfulfilled desire Alike must bring ! Alas ! of Truth the cost She knows not ; Truth deceives too like a liar ! '•MORS SOLA FATETUR," ETC. (83) Into the water cast a stone, and mark The bubble rise and burst, the water close ; Such gap thy death will cause ! Love, perhaps, owes A tear " obsequious," a sigh-quit cark ; But a new dawn sings-in the heedless lark ; Love dries her eyes ; upon her cheek the rose From pale to blush will turn. Perennial flows No fount of grief, else were Life's stream as dark As Acheron ! "The surly, sullen bell," Death's herald, summons to forgetfulness ; Drily the stereotyped, old tale doth tell : Not thine, but common lot ; it doth address ■ Itself to all ; each hears with awe t/iy knell, ' For the tu quoqtie which it doth impress ! AN ALLEGORY. Contentment, seated on thy doorstep, see ! Humble and meek, and plain in her attire : Fain would she enter ; at thy least desire, With cheapest entertainment, welcome free, (Nought else), she blessings brings to thine and thee : Will make thy Little Much ; ay, more and higher Than all which they who spurn her would require ! Whose wishes, as their shadows to them, be ! Thou spurn'st her from thy door ! And presently Trips by Dalilah Fortune, with her smile, Her harlot-smile, gewgaws, and bravery, And thee and thine doth cozen and beguile, With fawns and flatteries ; but by and by She'll shear thy strength, spit at thee, and revile ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 143 YOUTH KEEPS THE WORLD A-GOING. 'Tis well, O Youth, thou hast, like Mercury, Wings on thy feet, and Fortunatus' cap Upon thy head, and dream'st that in her lap One of her curled darlings, such as thy Sweet self, Dalilah Fortune will let lie And dally with her love ; that golden hap With bays of pen, or tongue, or sword will warp Thy temples round with immortality ! 'Tis well that Hope should beckon up the steep Of Fame, tho' few her lofty temple reach. 'Tis well that Love should swear, tho' ill to keep, Eternal vows, and scorn Time's envious breach ! Without such faith Man would not sow nor reap, Nor Hope spread sail, but tremble on the beach. ECLIPSE. • If mere eclipse of the material sun, Of th' outward light, seem portent of the sky. Like amaurosis of the world's great eye. Which through men's hearts with chill and dread doth run, Like the shadow of Death or the World's end begun ; What outer darkness must eclipse imply Of th' inner ! as God looked away — thereby Darkening that light the shadow of His own ! Then is our light as darkness ; then we grope Like shadows among shadows ; scarcely feel Ourselves. Man's outline dim, without that hope, Becomes ; lost the grand atmosphere ideal. Which showed him a Prometheus fit to cope With Death and Fate, and fire from Heaven steal DEATH AND TIME. On, on he strides, his scythe right sharp and strong ; Heavy each swathe that falls, and wide each sweep. He tireth not, but aye at work doth keep ; Stays not for heat o' day, nor evensong, Matins or midnight, ne reckoneth he wrong. A mighty mower truly ! He doth reap Where others sow, and wake when others sleep ; His barns, I wot, are full, and will be long ! He moweth in the blade and in the ear, Ripe and unripe, the tares and eke the wheat : Clean work he makes, and they who in his rear Would glean, must be right quick of sight and feet. I'd back him 'gainst all odds, save his compeer And fellow-worker, Time, the World to beat ! 144 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LONDON. Around me throbs the region-city vast, The Metropolitan heart, whose complex beat Thrills with electric pulse and vital heat The Earth's extremities ; shadows of past, And coming things beforehand, darkly cast, Like high-charged thunderclouds which threatening meet, (The weird, electric circuit thus complete). Spread, lighten on Time's path, with rising blast, And thunder-track of Change ! The busy hive Of nations is astir, like swarming-time ; With hum of mighty changes all-alive. Whose sound goes forth thro' all the Earth, sublime, But vague, perplexed : the atoms blindly strive ; God shapes their course, not their own folly or crime ! • FORECAST AND RETROSPECT. Whilom, as if Archangel blew the note From out the trump of doom, a sound was brought Which all the pulses of my being wrought To a new measure. E'en the utmost throat Of Time unequal to that then remote But mighty theme did seem, which my ear caught A little of ; yet with such meaning fraught, That like a two-edged sword Man's life it smote And cut asunder ! Present from dead Past Seemed severed, like the living from the dead. A new Prometheus in a new mould cast, The Coming Man, larger of heart and head. Again that sound ! Earthquake and whirlwind blast I He Cometh ! Lo, his shadow ! Hark, his tread ! OPHELIA. pure, pale Rose, whose perfume exquisite Might stay the sense of Death, if Death had sense, Smell, taste, or touch of youth and innocence ! Where but to see would leave no sense but sight. O too sweet bud, to meet such early blight ! Love, who with his too subtle eloquence And voluble tongue bewitched thee, gave pretence To Death, half self in love ere he did smite. Yes ! thy fell suitor dallied with his stroke ; Thy wits, like sweet bells jangled, thy blank look. Half stayed him, when the " envious sliver " broke, Life's last frail thread 'twixt thee and Lethe's brook. When in thy sweet throat the swan-notes did choke, Each blamed, repented each the part he took. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 145 THE GLORIFICATION OF YOUTH. How proud Man paces forth, his head in air, As if he scorned to breathe this atmosphere Of Earth that nursed, and Time that did him rear ! A demi-god he seems, and thinks to bear A charmed life, and Time himself outwear. Hope open holds the door with smile-bland cheer; While Fear, unheeded, and yet ever near Like his own shadow, dogs his steps, with Care As Pleasure masked. A winged Mercury, He seems to scarcely touch the earth ; tiptoe On it to stand, and spurn it ere he fly. And " making mouths " with brave words and fine show " At the invisible event," goes by Old Time, a-digging graves hard-by below ! SUICIDE. (84) In a strange land a stranger ; like a grain Of sand in the great Desert, in this waste. This human wilderness ; where Life, effaced By Life, is lost, like track in Egypt's plain. With sand o'erblown, all treacherous-smooth again ; She asked to earn that bread whose blessed taste Keeps the mind sound, the body pure and chaste, The noble toil of hand, and heart, and brain. Her heart on fire, her poor brain in a whirl ; , All stay, all hold lost, torn up by the root ; The rush of Life remorseless here ; the swirl Of the dark Lethe there — dead mother's mute Appeal to Virtue ! Then Despair did hurl This poor, lost lamb to death, like a dumb brute ! MEN. Some minds self-fumaced are ; red-hot or cool They fire or temper hearts with iron will : Anvils on which hard Fortune hammereth still Steel for Damascus blade or tempered tool, To cut or work the way to place and rule. Like fabled Arethusa, they fulfil Their destined course, self-flow thro' good and ill ; To either fortune trained, in either school. These are the few, who in their rude embrace Force Fortune's favours, backward still to grant, And all the more for this thrive in her grace. While the dull herd she still doth stint and scant ; Who, shaped by accidents of time and place To pattern, grow where and as she doth plant. L 146 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; VIRTUE. Humbly I kneel thy pure robe's hem to kiss ; Adorable ! I dare not touch thy hand, Held out, with sweet enforcement of thy bland Forgiving smile ! Oh, take it not amiss ; The beauty of thy presence, and the bliss Of such full view of thee, so reprimand And overawe offence, I dare not stand Before thee, my unworthiness such is ! By my abasement I perceive thy worth ! By depth of fall the height from which I fell ! By these sweet gushings from the rock the dearth Of the waste places of my heart I tell ! Thy presence, as light darkness from the earth. Doth exorcise things evil, and expel ! HUMAN NATURE'S DARKER SIDE. Like cavern deep, wherein the gross, rank air Clogs all the lungs, and light and life burn faint ; Where the heart takes a chill, and the thought tamt From unimagined horrors may be there : So are there like dark places of despair 1' the heart of Man, no Rembrandt-shades can paint, No words Dantesque character— fiend with saint, Devil with angel, alternate and share ! Even to some, too, Evil is their Good ! " Possessed " by devils, as in human swine, (85) Who drive them headlong down in phrenzied mood Into the depths ! The moral sense divine (Deaf and dumb fiend in Man's similitude). More inarticulate than in dumb kine ! DOUBT. As a long winter-dawn breaks dim and slow ; The light and darkness undecided long ; The dumb light yet too weak, Darkness still strong, Neither yet saying plainly Yes or No ; Presence of things we note, yet no forms show. The outlines dim and blurred yet, fancies throng And piece out, like Chimeras, guesses wrong From this and that ; and nought is, but seems so ! So, in this twilight of incertitude. My soul, perplexed, disparts not False from True ; Nor whether this be evil or that good, So they resemble, yet so differ too ! Whether dark forms of Error's gloomy brood. Or Truth divine, not yet shone clearly through ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 147 USE WELL THY YOUTH. Thy sands run golden now ; the precious hours Distil Life's very essence ; like the dew Of Hermon in its freshness, on thy new And opening youth, with all its fairy-bowers, Hope sheds her sunniest drops, most crescive showers. Before all else that bloom of fairest hue And quintessential virtue, keep in view, Rare "Opportunity," which seldom flowers. Thou think'st all will, as now, be such and so : Like the Garden of Eden life is in thy sight ; But all for use, not pleasure, there doth grow ; Yet all for pleasure, if but used aright ! Ill used, it lies behind a waste, to show Lost opportunity in after-blight. SHAKSPEAR. What hidden process operant, of mind And matter ; what rare cumulative powers, And subtle-fine accretions, through the hours And seasons ; what, precedent, of thy kind And breed, co-operant and all combined, With all united strengths and sum of dowers, With all quintessence of all Nature's stores, In thee their last, sublime complex did find ? Hadst thou, full-born, leapt from some Jovian brain, With the large utterance of such origin, Apollo and the Muses all to train. We had not wondered ; but thus to begin. Might make us think great Nature did disdain To frame a giant like a mannikin ! TO-MORROW! "To-morrow ;" ay, To-morrow ! That grand day ; The very pick of Time, that day of days ! That like a Jack-o'-lanthom with us plays Such "devilish cantrips sleight ; " still doth waylay, Yet never caught ; " To-morrow " still for aye ! That day upon whose forehead, with the rays Of each new dawn, Hope writes delusive praise^ New, flattering prologue to a stale, old play ! Some in To-morrows live. To-day dropt out ; Nor in their Yesterday To-morrow know ; Nor yet its Janus-face of mock and flout ! To-morrow, like clowns at a raree-show, A-tiptoe gapes, for wonders stares about, And, gaping at the " Fool," befooled doth go ! L 2 148 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; OUT, DAMNElD FIEND ! I cannot lay this Spirit ! It will rise "With " damnable iteration ; " like the Ghost That scared Macbeth's five wits, till Reason lost Her balance — fell o' t'other side, fool-wise. This fiend no circle, spell can exorcise ; It rises — still within, ay, where I most Potential drew the lines ; chills more than frost, Benumbs more than Medusa's stony eyes ! Starts up at bed and board, stalks in at feast, Drops the slow poison in Joy's Up-raised wine ; Murders sweet sleep ; heeds not the dawning East ; Clear, as at midnight dark, in mid -day shine ! It recks not ban, or bell, or book, or priest O God ! This Spirit none can lay but Thine ! j HAMLET'S EXALTATION OF MAN, "THE ; PARAGON OF ANIMALS." Ay ! thou hast clothed him on with robes of light ; A little lower than the angels set ; m Piled him sky-high with strained epithet, M Pelion on Ossa, to the top and height _ B Of ' Almost ' ! Make him god or angel quite, V Not here below, in poor confine, to fret : Clap wings on, puff him skywards, let him get , (Too gi-and for earth) to heaven, out of sight. ^ We creep between his stride, and feel quite small ; As much he more than Man as we seem less. But prick him with a pin, and, lo ye ! all J This self-swollen windbag is but emptiness ! " Touch him with hunger, cold, his withers gall, • And this lay-figure of a god undress ! A SUPREME AGONY ! How had he felt, when fiery fold on fold Enwrapped him, and, fierce-hissing, flame on flame. With serpent tongue, and forked fury came, Had a fell doubt then crossed him, ague-cold And deathlike chill (anguish not to be told), To match that hot-fit, and a moment tame Its fiery agonies with very shame And pang revulsive, thunder-crashing rolled ! That twofold hell, witliout him and within ; This flame his flesh, and that which gnawed his soul ; That quintessential torment ; sense of sin ; The one stay lost which could support, console ! (86) Mlgnt seem as if fiends laughed their prey to win, And hell had yawned, when heaven seemed his gaol ! 1 i OR, MOODS OF MIND. 149 THE NEMESIS OF LUXURY. Ye shrink with horror from the rack and stake ; From zealot's faggot, and "converting" flame ! Nor tortures dread yourselves, or like or same ; And yet for your own flesh and blood ye make Worse martyrdoms ; but not for conscience' sake ! Worse racks ; not for your glory but your shame. Belly, not God, the sacrifice doth claim, On which ye crawl, and "eat dirt " like the snake ! By many a quiet bed grim Death doth pause, Less merciful than rack or flame— the pain Unraised, unsanctified by noblest cause ; The Body burning out the Spirit's stain ! (87) Gout, worse than rack, the nerves can stretch and strain ; And the coarse clay in baser fires flaws ! THE LAST QUEST OF ULYSSES. A speck upon the horizon of Time's vast Illimitable ocean, there it lies. Famed Ithaca ; looming in Memorie's Large sight and wide discourse large in the Past, Tho' small in present Having ! Lo ! the top-mast Of sage Ulysses, streak'd against the skies, Shows for a moment ; spectral breezes rise. Waves spectral flow. Fame puffs th' ideal blast ! On, on he sails, and saileth evermore. With thirst divine of great discovery ! Aye fades th' horizon, aye recedes the shore ; Those "Fortunate Isles " greet never mortal eye ! Yet faint not, noble heart ! The World explore ; The Past hath done its work, the Future try ! THE MARTYRDOM OF LATIMER, RIDLEY, AND CRANMER. O God ! and can it be such agonies, That cry with voice so loud, importunate To heaven, they might force its close-barr'd gate, No recognition have, no auguries Of things divine, no promise of the skies ? Can flames like these die out, and share the fate Of common fires ; no heat divine create, To warm the world, and thaw e'en Polar ice? Methinks such faith and attestation. Sealed with such seal ; Humanity's poor clay Made soft, receptive (all dross burnt away) Of God's true image, might towards His own Have moved Him, such devotion to repay With some sul:>lime Self-declaration. ijo STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON THE OMISSION OF CROMWELL'S STATUE. Ye thought to pass him by, between whose stride A generation of such mannikins Might creep to dull oblivion, with your sins, Save this of crawling meanness, which shall 'bide To gibbet you, in chains hung of false pride. Ye thought this light, which, beacon-like, thus shines Upon the heights of Time, and never tines, To put beneath your bushel, and so hide ! Ye would not place his statue in men's sight Lest they should think of him whom ye would ban. Who against " Right divine" set Divine Right ! But History at large hath drawn the Man On her grand canvas ; there we see his height. Full-length : by what he did judge what ye can ! DECAY OF FAITH. When antique Faith invoked of old, to aid In holy work of Minster-bell and chime. Statue' of gold or silver, spell sublime Of self-denying piety obeyed ; Things the most precious at the feet were laid Of Holy Mother Church ; the things of Time For things eternal. Faith to heaven did climb The lighter, by less dross of Earth delayed ! But things more precious far, things precious Beyond all measure of so much, we throw Into a Witch's caldron, curious Still over-much, and to self-bane to know ! Faith's self, and all her heir-looms glorious, Like vilest, mortal things, into it go ! CONTINUED. And must we, then, part with this heritage ! This high, imagined birthright, God's prime gift. The very thought of which our souls did lift, — Which seemed in its sole self assured presage, A present foretaste, and a future gage, — For Earth's vile mess of pottage ! Must we drift, Mere waifs and strays, brief respite and no shrift. On this drear waste of mortal pilgrimage ! Are all these tongues of fire, this eloquence Divine, mere sound and fury, and no more ? The faith which could move mountains mere pretence ? The flames which, like a car of fire, bore Martyrs to glory, things of merest sense ? O God ! give Thou some sign ; the stroke is sore ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 151 AN ALLEGORY. Cometh the evil Spirit to the door ; He entereth in, and thinketh to dwell there, And after his own evil heart to fare, To spoil, and waste, beforehand reckoning score : But, with misdoubting eyes, he noteth store ; The husbandry which hath, and hath to spare ; In great and little, the holy order, care. And gainful virtue, neither rich nor poor ! He sees the busy hands their work still ply ; He hears the blessing at each break of bread ; The da\\Ti not earlier than the industry. The sweet sleeps each by prayer in-ushered. He came to curse, but, God-constrained, doth fly, And, gnashing, howls a blessing forth instead ! The unclean Spirit entereth in again ; Nor far hath he to go to suit his mood. Since Good hath ever evil neighbourhood. " This nonce," quoth he, " 'tis labour not in vain ! Here Idlesse doth her fellows entertain In sport ; lewd hostess of a rout as lewd, Whose orgies oft on modest Dawn intrude. Blushing for cheeks false shame alone can stain ! With folded hands she sits, work doth detest ; Or flaunts and flares Dalilah-like ; ne prayer On her lewd lips, ne children at her breast ! No more need seek ; there's room here and to spare," Quoth he, "for all ; " so goes, and calls the rest, And back with seven more unclean doth fare ! SHAKSPEAR. Thy heart is as the sea, with ebb and flow Around Humanity's true human shores ; Of all it taketh, gives all of its stores. Upon its face the breath of God doth blow, His Spirit over it, like Life, doth go ! There's healing in its waters for the sores And sorrows of Man's heart ; and who explores It most doth find it most upon him grow. There's room there for great venture and for small ; And " Fortunate Isles " for Spirits of the Blest ; And Heliconian springs into it fall From off a thousand hills — sweet nooks of rest. And flowery slopes of mountains, whose tops call (The heights of God) His name from crest to crest ! 152 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON THE UNIFICATION OF ITALY. Too long, too long, O beauteous Italy, Forgetting thy right hand and act of arms, Hadst thou, enamoured of thyself, thy charms And thousand graces, posturing lovingly Before thy great sea-mirror, fed thine eye With thy own beauty ; scared by rude alarms. That beauty cause, not shield, of hurts and harms, Thy virtue sick with self-idolatry. Narcissus-like ! But, no more posing now Before a flattering looking-glass, arise, O Beautiful ! Thy noble forehead bow, And, with the brine of thy great sea, baptize Thyself cJievf to Freedom ; 'tis, I trow, True "Holy Water," though no Pope applies ! AN ALLEGORY OF SCEPTICISM AND ITS EFFECTS. How faint the outlines grow, how dim the hues ! The " high-lights" of the glorious cartoon Are blurr'd ; foreground, perspective, out of tune ; No breadth, no atmosphere, no far-drawn views. Where Earth's horizons heavenly lights suffuse ! No heights, where raised Humanity may prane Her ruffled wings, and Heaven importune. Till Faith, to angel turned, her flight pursues ! O God ! how poor upon the foreground show The figures that erewhile loomed out so grand ; That seemed like demi-gods to come and go ! While, forms sublime ! took Faith and Hope their stand Beside the gloomy gate, and lit it so, It seemed two angels led Man by the hand ! THE "EASTING" OF THE EARTH. On whirls, with light and dark alternate crown'd. Round the great Sun, this Earth ;^ like any stone {Oh wondrous stretch of gravitation), Whirl'd in a sling ! And, as it on doth bound. With twofold revolution, sphery sound. With the world-choir in mystic unison. Makes day and night with motion of its own, And, with the Solar, the grand Seasons'-round. From West to East it rolls, and Avhirls along With it, in sympathy unconscious, all That moves upon it, — Eastward Ho ! the song. The great seas sway with it, in rise and fall, Earth's balance-weights ; the winds obey the call. Shifting to fan Earth's heats too long or strong I OR, MOODS OF MIND. i53 ON SHAKSPEAR'S PORTRAIT. Rich humour gleams from that deep-thoughted eye, But sadness underlies it ; lightning- play _ Glancing athwart the thunder-clouds which lay, Anon, the rais'd dust of Humanity With the big drops of passion ! Sympathy So wide with all that s'tirs our mortal clay, Needs like the rainbow must all hues display. All smiles, all tears, and all between doth lie. That sadness speaks with pathos infinite ! That look is not the look of the one man ; 'Tis " Man,'' who, over-curious, holds the light Too close to his own Self, yet cannot span Himself; ne sound the depths, ne reach the height; Nor, rising from those depths, the spectres ban ! SYMBOLICAL. There stood an old-world temple by the shore Of the great Sea, that moaned as in unrest, As if 'gainst sense of change forefelt, opprest, Seeking assurance. But the Earth had store Of her own troubles. The grand columns bore The earthquake's shattering marks, the lurid crest O' th' altar angry lightnings did invest For holy fire ; gods' statues strewed the floor. The wind came moaning in long soughs and sighs ; The thunder-step of storm with tread of fire Moved on dark, van-ward clouds of sunset-skies. " Great Pan is dead," (88) came, mournful as a lyre Whose last chord breaks : an echo sad replies From out the ages, dreader far, more dire ! A HINT TO SONNET-WRITERS. Choose well your rimes : have ready by your side A quiver-full, well-tipt with Phoebus' fire. Feathered from Venus' doves, if warm desire And rosy Loves thy theme be : if thy pride Stoop not to cooings, but adventure wide And region-flights, still circling ever higher. Till thy rapt ear catch sound of Phcebus' lyre. With swan's or eagle's plumes thy flight provide. Then shalt thou mount with beat of even wing, Twin-pinioned, winnowing the charmed air In wake of music, and, still soaring, sing. But a cross-rime, like rock or shoal, as 'twere. Stays thee ; till ebbs the flood from top of spring, W^hich should to " the fair Havens" of the Muses bear. 154 STO.VES FROM THE QUARRY; ESOTERIC. Ah cruel ! thus to draw the scalding tear Into the eye, with bitter-sweet recall Of love and hopes, that, like the leaves which fall In autumn, still are beautiful though sere ! Then, with cold irony and cynic sneer, To freeze it into ice ! To' raise up all Of dearest, o'er it but to throw a pall, And stretch sad Memory, corse-like, on the bier ! Ah cmel ! 'tis as if the heart made thrill Through every fibre, and surcharged most, Were seized with syncope. Could'st thou not kill Direct ; not through remembrance of the Lost ! Could'st thou not spare what Death himself spared still; But, mocking Fiend ! heart-blight with inward frost ! EVOLUTION. As under Nature's cunning hand combined Atoms and particles still change their state Of single, and together fitly mate In lawful marriage, as they stand afhned And true-conjunctive in degree and kind ; Thus with new Being, new-drawn lease, things late Repulsive, by addition One create. The Enchanter's spell which things diverse can bind ! So with Man's subtle mind and qualities : A novel strain of blood, from other breed, Makes weakness strength, turns foolish into wise, Coward to brave, and each thing to its need. This makes a Shakspear above Human rise. As far as thai a. fool from it recede. THE YEAR IN OUR NORTHERN HEMISPHERE. Earth coyly turns " cold shoulder" to the sun, And sidles off o' t'other side, and makes Estranged courses. Capricornus aches At thought of his cold penance ; that well done, Aquarius' thawing jars o'er Pisces run. But when the Ram, half white, half black-wooled, (89) takes The lead, she with the Sun's warm kisses slakes Her vernal glows, bride newly-wooed and won. Then with that May-long kiss her womb doth teem Conceptive, in its many-childedness : And when scorched Cancer faints from heat's extreme. As erst from cold's chill Capricorn no less, A many-breasted Mother she doth stream And milk out in autumnal fruitfulness. OR, MOODS OF MIND. I55 MAN "DARWINISED;" OR, THE ANTI-CLIMAX. I had a glorious vision once. Methought A form angelic kept me company : Wings had it ; whether to or from the sky Its flight, whence come, or whither going, naught Assurance gave ; yet all things from it caught Suggestion beyond sense. Mortality Seemed but a garment soon to be cast by. In forms divine after that pattern wrought ! But as some Bird of Paradise, that pines In harsh, unsunned confine, and moulteth fast Its heavenly plumage, fainter grew the lines Of form Divine, into mere Human past ! Soon too, showed through the Human mask sad signs Of change, Gorilla's coming form forecast ! HYDE PARK IN A DECEMBER SMOKE : TRANSI- TION SCENE FROM THE "RIDE" AT 6 P.M. O ye dread Powers of Darkness ! Has your reign Commenced ? With " devilish cantrips "' lay ye wait And glamours blear, and your dark hour foredate ; And earth and earthly things so blur and stain, That sense to recognise them strives in vain ? Are these the Stygian groves (where, leafless, late Grew earthly trees), that loom in murky state, With shadows, as of Death, of bale and bane ? Like bale-fires gleam the lights, and downward throw A sickly, ghastly haze ; the breathed-out reek Of the dread pit, more vaguely-dreadful so ! Upward^ a wall of darkness without break. Shutting out Mercy, sheer to heaven doth go. (90) O Dante ! in thy hell such scenes we seek ! ON THE WELL-KNOWN ANECDOTE OF MILTON ASLEEP UNDER A TREE. The Lord o' the mansion keepeth watch no more ; He hath cast off the burthen and the pack Of yesterdays, like wallet from his back ; He slumbereth in his inner chamber, o'er His treasures, like a miser o'er his store : Not gold or silver — of these he doth lack — But his high thoughts and yearnings ; on their track Pausing, like nestling eaglets ere they soar. The watchmen of the ears lie fast asleep ; The sentries of the eyes dose at their post ; The voluble tongiie Morphean fetters keep. Haply before him pass the heavenly host ; And yawns beneath him the abysmal deep ; With " Paradise Regained," the Found and Lost ! 156 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON THE INCOMPARABLE "CUPID" OF M. AN- GELO, IN THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. O exquisite ! what beauty and what power ! Beauty, with no suggestion of mere sense ; No touches base of fleshly influence : The beauty from within ; the spirit's dower ; Like the aroma of some rarest flower, Restorative, most subtle, and intense ; Impartitive of its own excellence, That through all passeth, passing makes all pure ! Not the weak, wanton Cupid this ; the toy And rosy plaything of an hour ! The wing Of this divine and heaven-commissioned boy, Like stray down from the eagle's plumes would fling That wanton off ! Pure fire without alloy Tips his shot dart, for true heart-soldering 1 ON THE SAME. debt of gratitude for gift so rare ! 1 kneel and kiss the ground which thou hast trod ; 'Tis sacred, to old Heathen as some god Had passed, and left believed imprint there ! O Beautifier and Exalter, where Shall Love, doomed 'mid dull earthly things to plod, To droop his volant wings, and kiss the rod. Get heart o' grace, hadst thou and thine no care To raise and leaven ! Oh, what airs divine Glow round him ! No incertitude of aim ! The shaft just sped, whose fire can refine And fuse two hearts in one, one still, still same : Love strong as Death ; Love vowed in holy shrine ; Two hearts on one same altar, one self-flame ! THAT CHARMING LOCALE, LEICESTER- SQUARE AS IT WAS. Has that eccentric Dame, Old-London, been This way, and some of her old garments cast Aside, and left these rags here as she passed? Her filthiness is in her skirts, I ween ; Though by her Thames she sit and seem a queen, And send her ventures forth both full and fast. She trails her grandeur, grimed with her smoke-blast, And hides her sins beneath that sooty screen ! Half filth, half finery, wallowing and display ; Styes, stews, and palaces of gin and gold ! But should some warning prophet to her say, " Wash and be clean," as Naaman was told ; Would she from her o\vn Thames not turn away, And loathe, as Egypt blood-changed Nile of old ! (91) OR, MOODS OF MIND. i57 DISILLUSION AND ESTRANGEMENT. Time, rude Time ! thou disenchanter ; thou Breaker of vows, foreswearer, juggler, cheat ; That contradictories, contraries, mak'st meet With Judas-kiss, and innocent-seeming brow, Ay, as of very Truth ; who plightest Nmu, Poor dupe, to Thett, and wedd'st all in a heat ; And smear'st the edge o' the cup of thy deceit With Nectar, and beguil'st we know not how ! Are Love and Friendship but thy bait and snare For hearts, as lim'd twigs for poor birds ! Thee, thee, With whom of the heart's freshness I did share Th' o'erflowiiig cup, two rare wines mingling free, 1 coldly pass ; each greeting doth forbear, And (though both hearts are full) seems not to see ! THE FAMILY "TRIAD," FATHER, CHILD, AND MOTHER. Sweet trichord of true Human harmonie ! Note threefold, yet one, to the inner ear ; Which Life's deep, subtle harmonies can hear : ■ " Sonata Pathetique " in minor key ; Or spherelike-rolling " Choral Symphonic !" A charming piece of " chamber-music " here I listen to ; the instruments so clear. So tuned, they seem one, kind (92) in and degree ! A single chord sounds synchronous and true. In Treble, Bass, and Alt, at once and one ; One not in selfness sounds, but all three do, And each in other ; singleness is none ! Sweet triune Love ! Three loving hearts throb thro' One large self-breast, and in one full beat run ! THE DEATH OF MOZART. (93) Hast thou no posthumous blush, post-obit tear, Proud Germany ? Go on thy knees, and wear Sackcloth and ashes, nor of penance spare For that thy sin ; o'er which sad Memory ne'er Shall close her eye, nor Scorn's slow finger e'er Forget to point at ! Oh that thou should'st bear This shame, who art so proud now of thy share In him, whose share in thee was, — Pauper's bier ! Proud art thou of thy Mozart ; so am I ; So proud, I should have deemed it honour great To bear his pall. Yet didst thou let him die, Die like a dog ; buried in Pauper-state ! Go kneel, if\.\\o\x canst find \\k grave, there-by ; And, if thou canst there, proudly contemplate ! 158 STONES FROM THE QUARRY: MAID AND MOTHER. But now a girl, life's purpose unavowed ; As full of starts and flaws as April-day ; Playful in earnest, sudden-sad in play ; Now clouding o'er, now sunny-bright — now bowed Like rose-bud just a-blooming, meekly proud In dewy beauty — now with coy display Of lights, hues, shadows, changeful and as gay As rainbow melting off an April cloud ! How changed that heart when Mother marks the time, Love's deeper pulses and more measured beat ; Not the dance-music of its May-day prime ! Stirrings she feels, which awe e'en when most sweet ; A new world, with horizons more sublime ; And forms with larger outlines — Life complete ! TENURE OF LIFE. Poor Soul ! poor tenant mere "at will ; " thy lease Not upon " lives " " renewable," but " Go ! " Sole notice of ejectment, without " No." Look closely to thy clauses, lest it cease And straight determine, while thou at thine ease, Poor Soul ! dost dwell, and all things make fair show. Take heed no breach of covenant doth grow To grave offence and " forfeit," 'gainst all pleas. Thy tenure brief at best is ; no fixed date : While many flaws creep in by negligence ; Many inherent in mere life-estate. The great Lessor interprets in strict sense ; Nought doth on plea of ignorance abate, But holds thee to thy bond, as Himself pens ! LONDON IN DEAD OF NIGHT. The mighty City sleeps ! A vague, dread sense. Awe which can hear the throbs of its own breast, Fill the deep pause of silence and of rest ; Strange contrast with the life late so intense ! The mighty Heart, hushed in the innocence Of Sleep, lies gentle as an infant press'd On mother's bosom, of its Worst and Best Unconscious ; Being's merest Present-Tense ! (94) Across the isthmus of dark, silent Night Steals the dim Purpose of the coming day, Like a vague dream ; anon, a form of light, The dawn's bright threshold crossed, it takes its way. A still, small voice goes up ! The temples might Seem for and with the City's self to pray ! (95) OR, MOODS OF MIND. 159 MISSIONARY EFFORTS IN INDIA, AND SCEPTICISM AT HOME. O England ! think'st thou with thy cast-off dress (Which thou hast altered oft, and worn so well. Not with ill grace ; tho' History, asked, would tell, And blush at stains which her keen sight distress :) To clothe, lay-figure-like, the mightiness Of Ind, when her great limbs shall freely swell ; When she shall stretch her bulk, and take an ell For every inch of thy concededness ? Alas ! art thou not putting, one by one, Aside, the pure white garments without stain Of the meek Jesus, till they all be gone ! And think'st thou that great heart, and mighty brain, When they have burst, like Samson's withes, and thrown Thy leadings off, will pick up thy disdain ! SACER VATES. {96) Dumbly thou goest, with a mystery At heart, still striving for large utterance ; Though wide awake, yet as one in a trance : Seest visions ; dreamest dreams ; things eye Not seen hath, nor ear caught the harmony. Nor heart the pulses, of. Thou seest in advance The lightning hoofs o' the Sun-steeds, as they prance And pace forth with new dawns and action high ! Yet is thy heart, for all this, as a tomb Beside which watch the angels, Faith and Hope, Waiting the dawn which shall disperse the gloom, Through which, though joined their lights, they dimly grope. Strange whispers, visions of the night, thence come ; Yet ne'er for thee those mystic portals ope ! THE END ! Is thy soul schooled at notice short to quit ; Nor quail at any form that Proteus dread (Whose shapes are fearful as unnumbered), Grim Death, may take, of fever, flux, or fit ; Or aught else flesh may bring or may commit ? Canst thou, undaunted, hear thy heart, instead O' the healthful tune to which we work, feastj wed. Beat " The Dead March," Death marking time to it? If thy soul, self-sustained and all alone, (No loving heart to cheer), on that dark way Can " Step-out " {enfant perdu !) to th' Unknown, By that dread " March " played out from hence for aye ; If to such temper wrought, thou'rt steel or stone, And " Death ! where is thy victory ? " canst say ! i6o STONES FROM THE QUARRY; CLARISSA HARLOWE. O incarnation of true Womanhood ! As beautiful without as pure within ; Angel in form and spirit, from whom Sin Stands off, and Evil, seeing, would be Good ! What graces, what beatitudes, what mood Angelic, halo thee around, to win All hearts to Good ! True to its origin. Pure as if it in God's own presence stood ! Bless'd be the genius which clothed thee on With Womanhood so perfect and so fine ; A glass for Woman there to look upon Herself, as made by virtue half-divine ! The coarse clay of our nature, so through-shone, Glows from within, in " high relief" doth shine ! LOVELACE AND CLARISSA HARLOWE. How could the wretch behold, and fail to love ? How love, and, though to all else blind, not see Thy virtue, but another name for thee ? How, seeing that, unto himself approve To soil the plumes of such a spotless dove ! Whose touch unto the pure of heart would be 'Gainst all uncleanness a phylactery ; Nay, even where it was, the stains remove ! (97) O Reprobate ! thou would'st thyself not raise To that pure angel, but drag down to thy Sty's level — tenfold lower and more base As against Virtue's self lese-majesty. Thy sin is as the fiend's, who hates, becrays, Virtue rebuking his deformity. MODERN LIFE FOR SHOW. Look in this hand-glass, and therein behold. In profile and in small, this motley age. What seest thou ? An actor off the stage, Tearing his part to tatters ; blowing cold And hot, the ape of Fashion, just as told? A pipe for any stop ; parasite to page My Lady Fortune's heels for patronage. Stand cap in hand, with " May I make so bold ? " Thou dost not recognise thy own sweet face. No ; 'tis our old friend " Nobody," poor fool ! — That social Ape ; shadow of substance base ; Frog o' the fable. In dull Mammon's school Life hath no inward joy, no iinhought grace ; T'Af/'f, slavish "estimation" slaves doth rule. I OR, MOODS OF MIND. l6i PYGMALION REVERSED. Did I not, after my own heart's desire, Fashion, like him of old, and lavish all The treasures of my love so prodigal Upon thee ; till my inmost heart caught fire At thy immortal charms, still burning higher, Stronger, and purer? Oh, did I not fall, Thou angel ! at thy feet, and on thee call, And at thy lips immortal breath inspire? I did, I did! I strained thee to my breast With dateless bonds of never-to-end love, And lay in Paradise ; my soul had rest. O God ! my arms unclasp, and I remove From my blank heart that mocking shadow drest As angel ; th' angel's self fades up above ! THE SINKING OF THE "WARRIOR," ARMOUR-PLATED VESSEL. (98) O Death ! thy handmaid, Science, serves thee well. She purveys for thy bloodhounds daintily ; Her hecatombs with those of War may vie. Right-worthy rivals, trumpet-tongued they tell War, Pestilence, and Famine grim, to swell Their lists, or she their places will supply. Fame's trump should spread their names who for her die ; But a '■^ Sic itnr ad" — whither ? — sounds a knell 1(99) Coffins of lead thou smil'st at, while thy worm Feasts on proud flesh within ; but huge as this. And iron, the mere novelty of form Tickles thy fancy ! Yet thy dealing is Most just, if stern, since they who raise the storm Must bide, and \v>ith thee reckon, hit or miss. REITERATION OF OLD, WORN-OUT THEMES. Why hark ye back, and summon up the dead (Like necromancers) ? — who, e'en if they come. Speak inarticulately, or are dumb, Or unknown tongues, must be interpreted. Utterances strange as Friar Bacon's head ; Oracular, like voices from the tomb ; Shadows, poor spectres, who have heard their doom. From whose blank eyes all speculation's fled ! Let the dead bury their dead I The Present's veins Must with the lifeblood of the Present run ; Pulse with its joys and woes, throb with its pains : Those lengthening shadows mark the set of sun. Life's toils of Hercules, the Future's strains, In morning's strength and freshness must be done ! M l62 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE GLORY OF WOMANHOOD. If thou would'st pray to Heaven for the Best It hath to give, the Most that thou canst ask, The nearest Angel in a human mask. Prime gift wherewith Heaven's self makes Man most blest ; Spur to high action, rest in life's unrest, The nearest to itself; sunshine to bask And lap thy soul in ; lightener of each task ; Heart-treasure, still at compound interest ; — Pray God for a good Wife ! Pray thou no less To well deserve it, to be t/iyself good : That blessing hath no touch of singleness ; To be one it must ever two include. As echo unto sound, thy soul must bless ; Blessirtg to answering blessing sweet prelude ! What is she like i and unto what shall I Compare her, in the tablets of my heart As drawn, elsewhere without a counterpart ? No meaner canvas, tho' a Raphael try, Could limn her to the life. As far as eye Can figure, she hath nature's grace, not art : And Love, most kindling, tempers yet his dart In holy looks, where mingle earth and sky. Tho' fair, her beauty, like an April-day, Steals on the sense, with sweet varieties. Not garish. Earnest-bright, sedately-gay, Her wit, like falcon, to its quarry flies. Her gracious inwards thro' her outwards play, As, lit within, the vase's figures rise ! Such, when on Man she turneth all her light, This gentle moon, at-full of Womanhood ; Softening in him all Earthly, Harsh, and Rude ; Lighting his spirit's depths ; haloing each height ! But when, revolving in her sphere, more bright, More beautiful, if possible it could. She shines full on her children for all good. Soft finite reflex of God's Infinite ! Then, with her little ones, like stars that shine, . Commingling radiants, in "the Milky Way," She moves, a constellation and a sign. To which all good men lift their eyes, and pray For blessings on her ; and, "Oh, such be mine !" As souls, that get foretaste of heaven, say. I \ OR, MOODS OF MIND. 163 THE DREAD " LOGIC OF FACTS :" A PASSING SHADOW. In self-despite ; with struggles desperate As for dear life — death instant, as, o'erhead, That sword of Damocles, held by a thread ; Or lightning-flash would write in fire, "Too late," Should I, 'twixt life and death, one least breath bate From fear or favour ! — have I uttered The dreaded Thought, which ail-but strikes me dead ; To unsay, unthink which would make my state As hell to heaven ! Whether God or Fiend Urgeth me on, I know not ; for I am But as in giant's grasp a child unwean'd ! Yet Truth is Truth ; and its stern touch all Sham Tests, like Ithuriel's spear, however screened, Let Balaam bless, or Balak curse and damn ! MAN'S POWER OVER NATURE. (100) Storms ravish the soft bosom of the air, And procreant Earth miscarries, scar'd, below ; The clouds, that should drop fatness as they go, Sweep on ; the tilth left parched, the pastures bare : Nor weave their Iris-scarves around the fair And forest-mantled heights. Left drouthy so, The many-breasted hills their overflow Of fount and spring-head stint : the Nymphs despair ! Man on the scene appears ; he lays his lines Of burnished steel, kept bright in act and use, Last, finest polish of all high designs ! His wondrous wires thrill, and bind, and loose The Genj of the Air ! Earth no more pines ; Heav'n's clouds drop fatness, and her breasts produce ! FOR EVER ! And must we part for ever ? Dreadful day, And dreadful word ! For, tho' no dagger 'tis, It stabs — ay, to the very heart — all bliss. And lets the life o' life out, leaves but clay ! O God ! is this the last time that I may Clasp that dear hand, and, with an anguished kiss, .Seal those dear lips, and then for ever miss Thy loving look, thy sweet voice, hushed for aye ? Death, cruel Death ! who gives away the bride At this dread altar, puts thy hand in mine, And, mocking, joins, for ever to divide ! My heart he freezes, while he deadens thine ! One last, long kiss ; then, ere away life glide, Draw my last breath, and clasp me to thy side ! M 2 1 64 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TIME. O Time ! thou turnest Earnest into Jest, Jest to grim Earnest, Sacred to Profane, And tilings despised to reverence again. Tliou arch-buffoon ! Thou malcest far the best Of jokes, and laugh'st at thyself with the rest. Tho' History pass them by with grave disdain. Thou "writ'st between tlie lines" with a sly vein Of irony, more pungent thus exprest. Moclcer and Scoffer, Desecrator rude ! Thou hallowest what thou turnest into dust, And what thou scorn'st to keep mak'st Wisdom's food. Enchanter, Disenchanter ! Thou dost rust The sword that shed, to medicine, the blood ; Yet, thro' all. Truth in thee puts her sure trust ! CHRISTMAS. New-mingled, all Life's bloods and currents run In one direction, in one common stream Of our Humanity ; once more all seem Akin ; the old, hard lease run out and done. And Life with kindlier covenants begim. The Old, now meeting, with memorial theme Grow young ; the Young, of things in hope yet dream. Which Memory will ne'er look back upon ! In wider sense of things and scope of view, A We see the tide of Life at slack and dead ■ Of ebb ; soon full on flood to run anew. Men's hopes take out new leases ; overhead They hear the winds which golden ventures blew To port, and all their sails to Fortune spread ! TO . She passes in her beauty, with a trail Of light behind, like some particular star In heaven's depths, to which all others are But foils by distance, or their fires pale— _ | Mere borrowed light which they from her retail. Nor with mere beauty halo'd, but as far Doth she excel in each particular Of Goodness, in the gross as in detail. Her beauty is her mind made visible ; Body transfigured with the Spirit's grace, Where every line and lineament tell How her sweet soul is writ in form and face. Yet in her eyes the sum and total dwell Of all her charms, focus and trysting-place ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 165 GOTHE'S "FAUST" NOT AN "ACTING-PLAY" OR A "SENSATION" MELODRAMA. Not thine the buskin, nor the formal stage, Thou ill-betided, ill-betiding soul ; In worse than felon's bonds, a dreader goal Before thee, devilish pledge, redeemless gage ! Let the mere menial eye, asserviced, page " Sensation's " heels, and lose all self-control ; While "devilish cantrips sleight," and "scenes," cajole The groundlings, and in teapots tempests rage ! Thy stage is in Man's stretched mind ; and there Thou wrestlest with the Fiend for evermore ! In thy dread drama every soul doth bear A part, yet leaves the mystery as before. Too grand that drama for mere strain and stare Of eyes, and coarse "spectacular" " encore ! " LOVE STRONGER THAN DEATH. Death cannot sunder us ! our twofold thread Is so close intertwin'd, so intricate And so intrinse, that, were the two strands hate And love, they scarcely could be severed ; How then, repulsion none, love sole instead ! Or as two streams, scarce ever separate (So near their sources joined their estate), Flow on together, once and ever wed ! We could not think of severance ! That thought Itself were as a death : by that small breach, Imagined, Death would enter ; thence were wrought A chasm to rend our twi-une heart, and each O' t'other side would stand, with anguish fraught, And in the gulf fall, straining to o'er-reach ! TO A FRIEND. Thy soul is as a river ; affluents small And great it takes, and to itself subdues. Whatever soil imparts whatever hues : All their impurities to bottom fall, As it flows on, full, deep, majestical ! Its banks still opening out expanding vievys, Not merely pastoral or scenes recluse. Men magnify, and by some great name call ! Thou shalt not flow to lowing of mere kine, Nor glide, with dreamy lapse, 'mid sheepfold's bleat, Nor to poor pastoral pipes thy course incline ! But, swelling, seek the spring-heads deep and sweet Of Laws and Learning, blend their streams with thine, And with them the great main of Knowledge meet ! i66 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE FUSION OF NATIONS ; OR, THE FUTURE OF AMERICA. Great mould, to cast anew Humanity ! Grand, procreant Womb ! All bloods, all qualities, All strengths of Brain and Sinew, harmonise, Raise, balance, supplement, and qualify Each other in thee, to produce thereby The highest " strain " of Man ; Humanity's Most absolute form and fashion, to surprise The Future, questioning Man's identity ! Ay, when those mingled bloods have blended well The full-ripe flavour of each breed and clime. How full those veins will run, those outlines swell ! What pulses then will beat the World's true time And measure, with the music audible Of that great Heart, world-filling and sublime ! ON THE "MECHANICAL" HORRORS AND DIA- BLERIE IMPORTED INTO "DER FREISCHUTZ." Poor tricks and toys, to realise the Dread, The Supernatural ; make Horror sit On the scared air, and weirdlike past us flit : With "Machinist " for sorcerer ; the Dead To raise, and the snak'd hair on Terror's head ! To ape the thunder ; while, sepulchral-lit By lightning-flash (poor flash of scenic wit). Sham serpents hiss, and sage owls scratch their head I Not thus the true Enchanter round us draws His "magic circle," witii those wild, weird strains:( lOl ) The Mind, co-operant, itse// o'er-awes ; The Fancy, self-deceived, believes yet feigns. This is true Art, which still obeys Art's lavvs. Nor tricks the sense, to juggle with the brains ! 'Tis pretty fooling, and the fools may please. But extremes meet, and herein the Sublime O'erleaps itself, with risk of life and limb ! Nay, oft falls right o' t'other side of these Fantastic horrors, which our blood should freeze, But only make us laugh ; the worst stage-crime, Lese-majesty, when tragic scenes the time Should solemnize with high-raised images. O vain attempt, Imagination so To put in a strait-waistcoat, mere confine ! Witli scenic bellows thus to puff and blow, On a stage-altar, her pure flame divine ! She to herself sufficeth, and the low Dull aids of Sense can touch to issues fine ! \ OR, MOODS OF MIND. ■ 167 THE PORTRAIT. TO Soft from the canvas rose that peerless face, And seemed less painted, than to grow, expand, To shaping music, or enchanter's wand. Rosebud to rose, crescive in some sweet place, Addition taking (as we gaze) of grace ! Hope took the pencil from the painter's hand. And parted those sweet lips with his most bland And sunny smiles, as sunbeams sunbeams chase ! Then Charity touched in her looks with soft And tender pity, gentle as a dove ; Faith raised them, as in ecstasy, aloft. But, lest the Woman pass to Angel, Love, All arts essaying, and re-touching oft. Hid himself m. her eyes, nor would remove ! PITT AND THE POLITICAL LILLIPUTIANS. Too high, too high ! above your sympathies ! When ye crawl up such intellectual heights. Your dull ears by strange sounds, eyes by strange lights Are stunned and dazzled. World-wide views arise Beyond your narrow ken ; God's lightning flies. Scathing your petty lives, blinding your sights ; _ Your breathing there grows hard ! Back, parasites ! Back to your flesh-pots, and your politic lies ! Ye crawled between his stride, and scarcely dared To call your souls your own ; with petty spans And callipers ye measured and compared. Like children in a " maze," in his great plans, Ye lost yourselves, for few those heights have shared ; Who come thence from God's presence come, not Man's ! THE CHILD OF THE GUTTER AND THE CHILD OF THE FIELDS. He plays among the wild flowers, and, like these, His young, fresh life gives out a perfume sweet And natural ; the birds make music meet To teach him his first lesson : then he sees (School'd by example) wise toil of the bees, Of mole the engineering : low and bleat. Sunset and sunrise, seasons change and fleet, Man's work and Nature's grace in all degrees ! He plays in alleys foul, a child of sin ; No flowers sees, nor hears the song of bird ; Nor Nature's threshold treads, still less within Her holy temple ; act unclean and word Defile ; " Man " fallen from his origin ; "God " more in cursing than in blessing heard ! i68 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; CHRIST. O blessed Jesus ! at Thy feet I kneel ; Pure incarnation of Humanity ! Thou who could'st live — task harder than to die — ■ To stay its weakness, and its wounds to heal ! And as from sweet-herbs bruised most most steal Their fin'st aromas, so distil from Thy Self-dedication unto suffering high, The perfume of Man's life, his supreme weal ! Oh, if Divinity dwell not in Thee, Divine Thy mission, and divinely done ! Thou hast raised up the Poor, set the Bond free, On Earth's dark places, without light else, shone. When Man shall cease to strive like Thee to be, Write " Beast" instead, on all- fours let him run ! TO . Whose silkworms spun that robe for thee so fine, To make thee fairer than the lilies are, In purity if thou be on a par ; If virtue through thee, as light through them, shine Who lit those gems would make thee half-divine In radiance like some bright, particular star, Could'st thou as bright shine near, as it afar ; And glorify the Maker, theirs and thine ! O beautiful, in spite of all thy pride ! But clothe thee on with sweet humility, And that, like fold of angel's robe, shall hide Thy faults, to virtues half- transformed thereby. Then might'st thou almost seem, by angel's side, Angel thyself, deceiving mortal eye ! SHAKSPEAR'S EARLY DEATH. Might not we, antecedently, suppose That Providence by such would set more store Than by the common strain, and guard it more? As of the precious spring whence healing flows More count is, than of that which unnam'd goes. Or as strict clauses to uphold, restore, Some mansion fair are drawn, as "heretofore," Should not the lease of such a life have those ! Not so ! dull fools live on, and Shakspears die : Run-out the term, or forfeiture of lease. O Nature, thy rich prodigality Counts not a Shakspear even 1 with like ease Thou could'st re-make, to common multiply : Ours is the loss ; thy sum knows no decrease ! i OR, MOODS OF MIND. 169 THE LAST WORD. For ever! Must it be so ! Whose sad tongue Shall say first, whose sad ear first hear it said ? To say, to hear, alike, is like half-dead ! To say it first is like to being stung To death — to hear first, like to being flung Headlong o'er some dark precipice ; so dread The thought, that consciousness itself seems fled, Hold lost of the last stay to which it clung. O my beloved ! if one of us two Must say that word, let us like lovers be Who call on Death to witness bond of true And dateless love ; that sentence then io me Will from thy sweet hps fall like Pity's dew. And that thought take the sting of death from thee ! DIVINE POWER. O God ! Thou openest Thy hand, and lo ! Like clustered diamonds, regardlessly Scattered therefrom, the Pleiads gem the sky ! Stars countless at a wafture Thou dost throw Along the Milky- Way, their interflow Of radiance a cloud of light : still high And higher, far and farther, beyond eye And telescope, and thought itself, they go ! As beyond sight Thy power is Infinite, So, also, in Infinitesimal. In least as greatest great, in depth as height. The infinitely-small is only small In term : Creation unto which the mite Is huge, for very smallness great we call ! POETIC INSPIRATION. Constrain not thou the gentle Muse, but take Her precious favours when they offered come. And use well that sweet license ; else be dumb, As oaths should, or Discretion ; for thy sake ; Lest, putting her to shame, she with thee break ! For without her a cypher all thy sum. Thy art all trick, mechanic " rule of thumb ; " She adds the "figures " which the value make ! When she is pleased, all common'st sounds and sights Are inspirations, riches fineless, thy Own heart a cornucopia of delights. Then senses hast thou 'bove Humanity ; Canst dive into all depths, ascend all heights. And hear the World's great pulses audibly ! I70 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; SCIENCE AND FAITH. (102) Science, with her two eyes for Far and Near, The Infinite, th' Infinitesimal, (103) Can from " the vasty deep " her Spirits call ; Not the Fiend's juggling spells and shapes of fear. But ministering powers of the sphere. Who heal Man's ills with touch electrical (Not King's or Saintly touch apocryphal). And for us fly, dive, see, predict, and hear ! Science tracks out the subtle nerves, the strings Of that mysterious lyre, the Human Mind, And "lost Man" to his dear Gorilla brings; — All but the Soul's dark clue : there, she's stone-blind ! Faith, driven from post to pillar, dipt her wings, Falls o'er the dread abyss of th' Undivin'd ! Alas ! poor Faith, thou art in sorry plight ! Thy plumes all ruffled in this rude resort, Where what is death to thee is scoff and sport To doubters ; darkness, too, to thee their light. They (as men nightingales) put out thy sight, And clip thy wings, that thou in sorry sort May'st sing thy requiem, while they report Thee living, who have almost killed outright ! The feathers moult fast off thy angel-wing ; Poor bird of Paradise ! thou pin'st away. " The missing link " once found, Man grows a thing Of Earth, and with " Gorilla " shares his clay ! The new "Religion " this, to bind and bring (104) In one again, and reunite the stray ! JOY AND GRIEF. The present sorrow, being in the deed, Still distances those in expectancy ; And casts into the rear the griefs gone by, Though Memory make afresh the old wound bleed. And their ghosts haunt us still, never quite laid ! The coming griefs, like thunder in clear sky. May startle, or on the foreboding eye Their shadows cast before, yet less we heed. The present wine doth sparkle in the bowl More bright than that in which we pledged the health Of our " first love," wherein his very soul Youth cast, the madcap ! prodigal of wealth. Like Cleopatra's pearl ! That prize Love stole ; But Time can steal e'en Love, cap stealth by stealth ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 171 THE MALIGNED NEGRO. O our Humanity ! what is thy hue, What thy true colour, say ! Art black or white ? A half-faced entity, dusky as night ; Or white as day ; or, Janus-like, the two ! (105) The Negro white, from his white " Brother," drew The Devil ; for that colour in his sight Was synonym for cruelty. Black quite The White Man his ; but white as well would do ! He of his poor black " Brother " made a brute And slave, then justified his sin thereby ; And, blackening his own heart, struck Love blind, mute ! Denied him sense— forgetting History ; How he himself ran wild in ochre-suit, (106) Beasting his now proud-fleshed Humanity ! WHITE AND BLACK. Because the sun in heaven is not too proud To kiss more warmly and more lovingly. And umber his despised Humanity, But in his face and blood proclaims aloud " Child of the Sun," fire-dipt and dusky-browed. And that on thee he looks with colder eye, Canst thou, "Pale-face," extenuate cruelty Which darkness blacker than his skin should shroud ! Thou hypocrite, who call'st thee " Christian ! " Go, ask the Devil for certificate, And he will " write thee large " there " fiend," not Man ! For thou God's bond of love hast turned to hate, Put half thy " Brethren " under curse and ban. For what Day might as well with Night debate ! (107) HALF SEAS OVER. Put but a little wine into thy brain. And what an antic dances in thine eye, Or Devil laughing at mortality ! Thy stature grows, and straight thou dost attain The thews of Hercules, and would'st constrain The dread Lernsan Hydra ; scale the sky. Heap " Pelion on Ossa ;" nought too hard, too high ; Lay hand on the Nemrean lion's mane ! Whose strength is then as thine, whose wit as rare. Who sets the table in a roar ? Then, then Thou'dst ride a-tilt at windmills or the air ; Confront the world in arms with sword or pen ! Thou art " possessed ; " a subtle spirit there Works in thy brain, 'clept " Alcohol " of Men ! 172 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; REVELATIONS. Yonder, like diamonds on a robe of blue (Such as Uranian Venus might have worn When old Mythology would her adorn, After its fashion figured to Man's view), The Pleiads sparkle the soft ether through. There, in lone splendour, yet without that scorn Of lesser things with greatness often born. Far Lyra shines, to some grand mission true ! Poised on this speck of Earth in soul I stand, And fling its dust off, spurning it aside. Like prisoner whose freedom is at hand. A throb of consciousness runs through the wide. Wide world. Its spirit wondrous and so grand Thrills through my soul the thought, "It doth abide I" NECK OR NOTHING. We wonder at the gambler when he takes His frantic, last embrace of Fortune ; clings To her false, harlot-lips, and madly flings Into her lap the all that makes or breaks ; The hope that, like a fever, reckless slakes Its fierce excitement at those poisoned springs, Whose bitter-sweet draught leaveth scorpions'-stings And dregs of life, brain-phrenzies and heartaches ! But what of him who gambles, life in hand. With grim Death face to face, forfeits or quits ; While his dread partner in the game the sand Turns in the hour-glass, and still outwits ! Whose lusts and passions, like foul fiends, demand Body and soul, their twofold perquisites ! AMERICA AND ENGLAND. Step out ! Right faces forward, "at the double ! " Strike up the " Band of Hope," unfurl the " old rag" Of Freedom, let the Nations never lag. Clear heads, high hearts, strong hands ! As fire in stubble ; Or as the wave of Progress bears the bubble, Forward ! beneath that grand star-spangled flag. With star on star quick rising ; \\ ithout brag Or vaunt, through sweat and toil and Human trouble! On ! noble army of toilers in the van Of Human Brotherhood ; we well abreast Of ye will keep, and back ye man to man ; We " noble English " all, both most and least ! Not "few," as we at Agincourt began, (108) But all, from sea to sea. North, South, East, West ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 173 MAN AND BRUTE. Man, "social," "reasoning," "articulate;" Proud Man, " in likeness of his Maker made ;" First-cousin to "Gorilla ; " just a shade This way from Brute ; and that way, not to bate His proud additions, little less in state Than angel ; when his fleshy parts degrade His rational, to salve his pride hath said, " He makes himself a beast," this angels' mate ! But let his pride take physic in the thought That he alone is vicious. Not a Brute On two or four legs e'er gave p — x or caught. (109) Even "Gorilla" never "followed suit !" The Beasts disclaim him ! He himself hath taught All vice ; in this most sole and absolute ! (no) THE TRUE POET. O Poet ! if thou, like the aspen-leaf. Which quivers to the Zephyr's tenderest sigh^ Dost wear the heart of thy Humanity As light-responsive to each joy and grief; V Thy roots draw deep from common Earth (and chief That downright one and main, which lifts thee high, In foliage rich and branched majesty). The sap of all true Being, high belief ! Without this thou art as a stream which, ere It reach the sea, doth lose itself in sand, And misses its great end, its true rest there : Or as a stately tree that looketh grand In outward flourish, but doth nothing bear ; Which men cut down for burning and for brand ! DON'T "GIVE IN." If thou hast suffered wrong ; gone, or done, wrong, Worst ill of all, and leaving the worst sting Behind it in our wounds, in thoughts that cling To memory, and keep them open long : (Worst "heal-all" 6'f^-reproach):say, bold and strong, "Get thee behind me, Satan : " that foul thing Behind leave, like bleak hills whose shadows fling Heart-chilling glooms. On ! to Life's press and throng. And the warm sun beyond. Shun thou that shade, Deepening and lengthening as thy day slips by ; There lurks Despair, who many hath betrayed. Push on ! those four roads, meeting yonder, try ; Hope points (best finger-post !) the path : with aid Fortune, to meet Self-help half way, will fly ! 174 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; DE PROFUNDIS : A NOCTURN. Must our eyes no more see this lovely scene ? Must darkness on their lids for ever dwell ? Shall Death's cold hand repress the full heart's swell, And o'er its high thoughts trail with things obscene ? Those stars glad no more as with kindred sheen, But the same tale, in mocking glory, tell ; Not lighting us to fabled Heaven or Hell, But to the Be-all, End-all, the " Has Been ! " Shall no more pressure be of hand in hand ; Love no more see Love answer, eye to eye. And heart to heart ; believing, making grand This else sad life, else heartless mystery ! O Thought ! from height of which the depths I've scanned. Fear dreading fall, Hope powerless to fly ! If this were all, better to eat and drink. Like the mechanic herd of Human kind, Whose thoughts each day are for each day to find ; Who only of their little Morrow think. Not the Great Morrow, whose eternal brink They trifle on, to its dread issues blind ! Better nor look before us nor behind, But with best opiate, toil, in sleep to sink, And Death lose in his shadow ! Happier To graze like ass, ox ruminate; (ill) die, live Like sheep, who ignorantly-happy are, And lick the hand just raised the stroke to give ! Or, with the Indian, trust to meet afar His faithful dog, in Hope's bright perspective ! SHAKSPEAR. Thou each surpassest in his best of kind, Most of degree ; in that self-quality Which makes him single, and himself thereby ; And in one higher summ'st-up all combined ! O wondrous complex ! Sunlike-central Mind ! Would'st laugh ? A merry antic in his eye Will make thee hold thy sides! Would'st weep, or sigh? Till breath fail sigh, tears Pity fail to find 1 Wisdom, or be it in Particular, Or General ; bee-shrewdness ; eagle's flight, As high as heaven, sure as the lode-star ! Heart, beating truest measure, heavy or light ; Child-like, yet with world-pulses thrill'd afar ; All-in-all, for all, with all— Infinite ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. I75 TO Her sweet mouth melteth like a downy peach, On which the golden kisses of the sun Still linger — melts in sweeter smiles— nay, one Sweet smile her face entire, without breach Of continuity ; her eyes smile each At other, and the smiles there first begun. Her bright Aurora-face like dawn o'er-run. Till those of her sweet answering mouth they reach. Her face is like the magical revealing Of a soft April-day, when all things sweet Are blending, and in lights and shadows stealing ; And all with sweetest interchanges greet. Now a bright thought, now touch of tender feeling ; Sunshine now chasmg cloud, cloud tempering heat ! THE NIGHT-KNELL. Hold thy harsh iron tongue, thou sullen bell ! Thou hast no touch of human sorrow, though Thou lend'st a tongue to tell us it is so. And dumb Death speak by thee ! Of thy stern knell Each stroke upon our bruis'd hearts seems to tell As hammer-stroke on anvil, blow on blow, Beating out life, remorseless and so slow. With measured torture on each pang to dwell ! Too well dost thou interpret to the ear Th' Unutterable of the dumb-struck heart, "Whose inarticulate anguish seems to hear A muffled utterance of its choking smart. Like some poor animal in pain and fear, "Whose dumb moans tell all and yet the least part! (112) WARNING ON THE SPREAD OF LUXURY. This body (lodging and fit instrument O' the Mind — with all its cunning aptitudes To put in act and use Man's many moods And faculties diverse) was not thus lent To rust unused, with down and ease content. Not at such breasts hang Nature's stalwart broods, Not from such paps strong Freedom's milk exudes. Not such the hands fulfil her great intent ! As iron upon anvil, heart of Man On hard endurance must to tempered steel Be wrought, for essays of great pith and span. Belly be servant still ; mouth made to feel The bit ; the passions, sustained breath to fan The fire of high Intent, and wing his heel ! (113) 176 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; SELF-MASTERY. 'Tis hard to salve the lash on our own back With aphoristic Heal-all, and wise saws For "instances " so near ! To moralise the flaws When poor Humanity's coarse clay doth crack I' the furnace of temptation ; when not slack It burns, and we the fuel and the cause Supply. To praise the justice of the laws which punish ; of the pains which rend and rack ! Yet for this strive ! Here lies self-mastery ; The master-key, slow Fame and Fortune's wards To turn ; forelock of Opportunity ! Achiev'd, thou spurn'st the World's gilt toys and gauds Hold'st thyself at arm's-length ; constrain'st thereby Fortune herself, not by her pimps and bawds ! ANOMALIES OF HUMAN NATURE. How seldom speech and act, and word and deed, Own one self-same belonging ! One man does The deed heroic, scarce his greatness knows ; But wears it lightly, like a summer-weed. Put on and otf at pleasure, without heed. Another will describe it, with his Oh's And All's, all admiration ; but, at close, Would creep out of his skin rather than bleed By a pin's point ! \\\ Man such contraries — Nay, contradictories — are often seen. One man will point his fellows to the skies, Like Virtue's finger-post, yet is he mean. At the first touch of trial cracks and flies The gilding, and the coarse clay shows between ! THE MYSTERY OF BREED. When two sweet souls, of outward presence fair To match their inwards, and thus, after kind, Reduplicate of body and of mind All strengths and graces, issue still more rare, Conspire, with sweet'st conjunction, for repair Of Human-kind ; we seem to see behind These fair presentments and high "strains" combin'd Sure pledges to the world of some great heir Of Fame and Fortune. Yet not always so. One and o>ie make small count ; Marriage supplies The "o" between, whence hundredfold they grow ! How to a Shakspear doth the grand sum rise? The One before, One after the great " O " (Itself nought) sire, mother, auc^ zv/iai e/se ? comprise. (114) OR, MOODS OF MIND. I77 THE END. If on the edge of some high precipice The rock should rend, and sudden at thy feet A dark, dread chasm, cutting off retreat, Should, like some wild beast, taking by surprise His fated prey, gape for thee : would thine eyes Not start, thy heart the " double-quick " not beat. At sight below, as 'tvvere thy winding-sheet. Of foaming torrent, that to darkness hies ? On edge of such a precipice dost thou From day to day, and hour to hour, stand ; Time the swift torrent rushing past, called " A\na .' " Instant, that chasm M-hich no bridge e'er spanned. May open 'neath thy feet ! Bethink thee how The end will find thee, from its dread brink scanned ! THE HEAVENS AT NIGHT. Oh wondrous sight ! that strikes me dumb, and yet Constrains to speak ! That in the very dust Humbles ; and yet exalts, with sublime trust ; Makes me feel nothing, yet doth still beget A sense of thronedness, that will not let * My soul feel little ; though perforce it must Such exaltation wear, like greatness thrust On one against his wish and worth high set 'Bove all deserving ! O ye brilliants rare That gem the star-set diadem of Him Whose Presence all, in all is, eveiywhere ! Whose glory through ye shines and makes yours dim; Sense of abiding might ye shadow there, The burthen of Creation's silent hymn ! TO . Without thy " figure " I am " ciphered " quite ; I beJiind o, a mere nonentitie ! Place thy rich count before, thou makest me A hundredfold myself, and count aright. I'm nought, can do nought, have no sense or sight, No relish of the fairest things that be ; All sweetest favours come and go with thee ; Thou, hearing to my ear, to my eye light ! Oh if, in less Intrinse, thy presence make All unto Least, addition unto Most, And Best be bettered for thy thought and sake ; In Innermost what Loss above all Lost, If thou, or worst of Fortune, thee thence take ! Then even that poor " One' quite out were crost ! N 178 STONES FROM THE QUARRY: THE SPELL OF THE TRUE POET. Dost ask wherein the Poet's secret lies ! As well go ask the Magnet why it draws The iron ; or the Needle by what laws (Better than had it Argus' hundred eyes) It points the Pole, and sense and sight supplies ! As well ask Beauty's sweet effect and cause ; Why grace charms ; the Sublime, like thunder, awes Why chord, in unison, to chord replies ! The Poet plays an obbligato sweet And rare upon the grandest instrument Of all — Man's heart ; which catcheth divine heat And kindleth from the inspirations sent Along its chords, whose far vibrations meet Th' Eternal echoes, and with them are blent ! SPIRITUAL AGENCIES. How subtle-strange the interplay of Mind Through eye, ear, touch, and will, impartitive Thereof, by aptness, to receive and give ! Here, subtle emanations access find. Where unto others all seems deaf, dumb, blind ! Soft spells for madness Woman will contrive, And silken bonds, where strengths in vain would strive, The roused snakes of the Furies to re-bind ! (115) This man with bated breath, and action mild As soft Persuasion's self, a crowd will sway. Where that with sound and fury drives it wild. Oppugnancies, as strong as night and day, By subtle interagents reconcil'd. May harmonise, as tints make light's pure ray. (116) THE "TO BE!" STROPHE— FAITH. How beautiful the Temple ! The design How grand ! How finely massed the light and shade! To what a point of far perspective fade The long-drawn aisles ; outward and visible sign Of th' Endless, the Continuous, and Divine ! How each in other run the lines, and aid The grand result, until the Whole is made To flow in numbers and proportions fine, With visible cadence ! Precious are the stones, Not wrought with hands, than diamonds more rare ; And splendours from within stream out ; far tones Of ecstasy, that thrill the outer air. And grand the steps, worn more than those of thrones. With tread of Faith and Hope, and knees ol Prayer! OR, MOODS OF MIND. i^g OR " NOT TO BE ; " ANTISTROPHE— DOUBT. Grand is the Temple ! Ever towards the gate Called "Beautiful" the Faithful press, with song And hymn, Time's grand procession, all along " The sacred way " that leads up to its state ; Where nigh two thousand years do pray and wait ! And like her secular ways which Rome did throng With press of life long lines of dead among, (117) This (those in Small), in Grand and Consecrate ! But the last step of all that noble flight Which leads up to the portal, and, once past. Would blessed make the feet, and entrance light, A stone of offence in the way is cast ! A stumblingblock that step ; too great its height For Man, who o'er it falls, and breathes his last ! THE RAVING BACCHANTE. Oh what fine inspiration wrought the stone To madness, and though dumb made speak ; though cold, Insensate, into life, with touch so bold, Promethean kindled from itself alone ! It raves and rages, as if it had known No other function ; as those eyes had rolled In phrenzy, those wild gestures ever told How marble may go mad and Furies own ! O Genius ! thee all things still obey ! Hardest grow soft, the heaviest light as air, And Motion's self things motion'd least convey. Not wings could, like thy thought, that weird form bear And whirl along ; nor could, on its mad way, Re-turn to stone Medusa's stoniest stare ! MAMMON. Not even for itself (ignoblest end !) Does the mere lust of wealth, and its low schemes, With all £ox-cunning wisdom-for-self deems (Means as the end ignoble), comprehend The creed and service, most directly tend To Mammon's glory. Even he hath themes Above these things; a.n^ those "high-pritsts" esteems, Wise in their generation, who still blend Their greed with larger scopes ! He too claims ; has "A reasonable service" in its kind ; With other image than his own would pass His mintage, larger usance thus to find. Hypocrisy doth dress in Virtue's glass, And Greed does homage to her, when lea.t blind ! N 2 I So STONES FROM THE QUARRY; " UNSEAWORTHY" ENGLAND! A fleet of noble " coffins " forth they sail, Death at the helm, Destruction at the prow ! The canvas, goodly winding-sheets, I trow ; The " needles" point, "set dead ! " On a grand scale Their cables pack-thread : orphan's, widow's wail Moan through the shrouds ! Her anchor at the bow Hope, scared, forsakes ; Despair dark hovers now O'er graves, and with his wings invokes the gale ! Fear not, ye Mariners of England ! all Is full " insured ; " Death " underwrites " the bond ! England ! O my England ! great thy fall ! 1 o'er thy glories foolish grew and fond ; Now o'er thy shame a fold of Nelson's pall I'd draw ; thou grovellest, lookest not beyond ! Go ! kneel beside the sea ; — thy sea it was ; Thine, but for very shame, I still would say ! If t/ioii canst tamely bear, not tamely may That shame great Ocean ! From his mighty glass Thy once-grand outline grows faint and doth pass. The nobler German bears the prize away, (ii8) The birthright thou dost barter and betray For a vile mess of pottage— out ! alas ! Man's life for gold ! Go wash thee, make thee clean ; "Wash hands and brow, body and soul ! baptize Thyself afresh, to be as thou hast been ; So deep the stain, the very sea it dyes ! That Sea, which reared thee to thy lofty mien, Doth on thy crjnng sin in judgment rise ! O Nelson ! if, "up there aloft," thou hast Sense of aught done on earth, or if the grace And glory of thy England find a place In thoughts immortal weaned from things past ; On thy brave foster-sons respective cast A glance supernal, and abash the face Of brazen Mammon and his hireling race, Who count the noble hearts but cotton-waste That won Trafalgar ! The dark legend goes That the foul fiends with forfeit souls do play For counters ; but these human win and lose With lives of fellow-men, not cast-away ! Oh, may the fiend find some "new way to pay Old debts " for them, and hold them to it close ! I i OR, MOODS OF MIND. i8i "WITH WHAT I MOST ENJOY CONTENTED LEAST." SHAlvSPEAR'S SONNETS. O Heart, that holding all, held itself least ! Thy thirst divine then nought could satisfy ! Thou whose abundance and variety ' Could suit all tastes and surfeit ; still increas'd By giving, and who craved most still most pleas'd ! Where every humour fed itself full-high, And left the table graced, and graced by ; Thou only not, the Master of the feast ! We who are by the very crumbs that fall From thy great table satisfied, may hence Take measure of thee, measuring great by small. Heights, which sublime our lesser natures call, To thee are only stepping-stones from whence To take still higher flights above our sense ! "DESIRING THIS MAN'S ART AND THAT MAN'S SCOPE." SAME SONNET. Hov/ more than Ca;sar's robe imperial Becomes thee this sweet robe of simplest grace, Whose every line Humility doth trace ; Lessening the gulf 'twixt so great and so small ! Drawing thee down to us, raising us all ! That touch of nature is as an embrace. In which we feel thy heart beat and displace The high-set figure on Fame's pedestal ! Ay, there we touch, we Lilliputians ! With all those common, sweet humanities, Those little holdfasts, petty handbreadth spans, We bind our " Gulliver," lest he should rise 'Bove our Humanity, which loving scans Him near in Little, close in sympathies ! PARIS. O Beautiful of the Cities ! thou dost hold Thy head high, settest still the fashion ; And all thy sisters make comparison With thee, and hold them fair, as they behold Resemblance more or less, in dress and mould. Yet, tho' thou robes of rich device dost don. Thy filthiness is in thy skirts, and on Thy brow we miss, 'mid lesser gems and gold. The Priceless — -Purity ! Thou art full of stirs And tumults ; Peace, scar'd, flees thy bloodstain'd streets ; Old sins unto thy splendours stick like burs. Repeat themselves in new : cold chills and heats. Like ague-fits, still make thy last state worse Than former, and thy heart Change mocks and cheats ! i82 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; LONDON. blessed City ! though sins not few stain Thy pavements, and Crime walketh in thy ways ; And Righteousness might from thee turn her face, And shake thy dust off, and ne'er seek again ; 1 bless thee still, for that from civic vein, In feud intestine, civil war of race. No blood hath flowed yet, on thy streets left trace, That Memory should along them walk in pain ! Oh keep thy garments pure and undefil'd From this pollution, which not all thy Thames Could wash out ! Still let Reason, wise and mild, All differences heal ; cover thy shames From stranger-eyes, as Parent's the wise child ! Pour balm into thy wounds, and quench thy flames ! SHAKSPEAR. Doth thy great heart, or thy as wondrous brain Most shape and colour those rare thoughts of thine? Is 't thy great heart that, with its beats divine. Doth send the mighty pulses of its pain And joy through all, and make as large again As life ; or is 't thy brain that so the line Doth raise, and make to tread with buskin fine, Or humorous sock, that stage which doth contain Man's Life " writ large ? " Those joined strengths make one All-self-sufficing world. Thy mighty heart With central heat doth warm all, like the sun ; And thy quick brain doth to creation start. And, like the virgin Earth, exuberant run To flower, and fruit, and seed, in every part ! FAITH. THE SCEPTIC "MALGRE LUL If I do wound thee, 'tis as those who lit The funeral pyre, in fashion of old Rome ; Who, when consigning Dearest to the tomb, Anguish'd and looking-back set light to it : As holding sight of such sad act unfit ! So, under constraint of more dreaded doom, In veriest shadow, not mere semblable. Of Death himself, I deed enforc'd commit. Entomb and kill ! First, lest I see the thing I do, put out my very sight of sight. Belief ; although my inmost soul it wring ! Then, as not bearing loss so infinite, I light the pyre, and by Faith's dead side fling Myself thereon, by her death slain outright I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 1S3 TO She stealeth on her way, and halloweth Life's lowly duties ; known best for and by The violet-sweetness of Humility, Which hangs round all she doth and all she saith ; Still shunning, still betrayed by its sweet breath ! She passes, and, we know not how or why, All sweeter, purer seems ; and in her eye Love, heavenly, transfigured, stronger than Death ! And should some angel in her clear soul deign To look, as in a glass, therein he might Behold so much that, pleas'd, he'd look again. Low is her voice ; a voice to soothe, set right ; God's truth shines through her without spot or stain, As through the virgin-lilies shines His light ! TO . A CONTRAST. She steals upon her way, so innocent ! Sweet thief ! and filches hearts at every turn ! Her gazers (as poor, witless children burn Their fingers, or moths on bright lights intent) Scorch their poor hearts ; while she, sweet penitent ! As plenary absolution so io earn For artless wrong, wounds, though to heal she yearn. With dainty pity, ruthful i-elf-content ! Sweetest of thieves, yet worst ! " Who steals my purse Steals trash;" who steals my heart, steals that which naught Enriches her, but makes me poorest-worse ! Thine eyes the trick of April-skies have caught, And well their alternations they rehearse ! Love suborns Pity ! Oh, malice aforethought ! A SPLENDID NIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS. Methinks such boundless thirst for free-breathed air As makes one dungeon'd long like drunkard reel So mighty and so masterful I feel, That I could drink in (as against despair Elixir-vites), till expanded were My lungs with mighty breaths and sense of weal Beyond mere Human, ills of flesh to heal, The taintless purity of this most rare And starlit ether ! O my Soul, believe. If but for passing comfort of such thought, That thou dost from those glorious orbs receive Influence which by this blessed air is brought ! Expand, my lungs ! expand, my Soul ! and leave This Earth : 'tis Life of Life ; Time, Space, are nought ! iS4 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE DEADLY SIN OF UNSEAWORTHY SHIPS. TO ENGLAND. If, by concealing, I could heal thy shame, And cover from rude mock of stranger-eyes, And thy unworthier sons', of sweetest ties And holiest recking not ; I would, the same As Noah's two pious sons, with like high aim (Not turning on thy faults regards unwise). With backward step, and filial piety's i Blind i-everence, hide from ill tongues and worse fame I Thy nakedness ! Oh, dear my England ! Oh, My most dear Parent ! drunk, but not with wine, Art thou. Not from that lesser cup, although d Not wanting, flows tJiis shame. This cup of thine " Is full of blood and tears ! Therefore I show Thy shame to Man's wrath, to appease Divine ! SELF-EXPERIENCE. No man e'er yet from proxied wisdom gained Self-wisdom ; nor yet from his path the stone Of offence put, save of himself alone. No poet e'er his Pegasus well reined, Save from himself the manege he attained. The Present, too, hath motions of its own, And never can be set to paces gone ; Time by his forelock only is retained. Nations may for each other's warning play " The drunken Helot," and the moral point ; The point is turned, the moral thrown away. Fools with proverbial wisdom may anoint And salve their neighbours' wounds, yet not less "pay The piper," their own times being out of joint. THE MYSTERY OF BEING. Do we pass through this wondrous world of ours, (So beautiful, that the heart aches to think Even from transient blindness we should drink Its sunlight in no more, nor see its flowers)! As through enchanted halls, where magic powers Call apparitions forth, that o'er the brink Of dread eternity still rise and sink ; Glamours, diahleries too ; Eden-bowers, And Shades of Hades ! Oh, the Mystery ! Is 't loe, who see all this, or dream all this, Are mere presentments, shadows flitting by, " Raised " i' this " magic circle ! " that nought is But what is not ; and with these presently. We puppets, like "ghosts laid," pass to th' abyss ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. i8S CHRIST FROM THE MERELY HUMAN POINT OF VIEW. O Incarnation of th' Eternal Mind ! That in which Infinite doth nearest Man Approach, and Creature most Creator scan ! As in the absence of the sun we find His presence most vouchsafed (the same in kind, Though so less in degree, so small in span) In full of moon ; so Thy light in the van Of all humanity ; so far behind All lesser phases ! All else in degree, Or less or more, in increase or in wane ; Thou only at the full ; a Light to be To this sad Earth, which else had darkling lain, Half, quarter-lit. But by Thy " full " we see, Vicarious, the greater light again ! MILTON'S " PARADISE LOST." These figures gigantesque and lurid, thrown On the grand epic canvas by thy brain. Phantasmagorias seem to my plain Truth-cleaving wit ; to Earth and Heaven unknown ; Which neither, nor yet both conjoined, would own. Chimseras dire, which poets, when they feign Most, dream ; bizarre, fantastical, and vain. As the quaint forms by magic-lanthorn shown. This Satan, with his " thundering words of threat," Like some high-buskin'd braggart on the stage, Who takes all odds ; these " engines dire," which set Bellona tittering, and this nether rage. Time leaves behind, and Truth, now come of age ; (lig) Touch with Ithuriel's spear, they're counterfeit ! THE LAST SAD SCENE OF ALL. Lay thy heart low, poor, weak, despised Age, E'en as a threshold which the meanest foot Doth pass contemptuous, with act to suit ; 'Tis part o' the penance of thy pilgrimage ! Humiliation, poor abject ! to page Thy kibed heels, with downcast look and mute. Ashamed those offices to execute Which none else render to thy last sad stage. O bitter drop ! that makes the cup run o'er ! O bitter draught ! not e'en medicinal. No healing in it for thy deadly sore ; Not honeyed even at the edge ; all gall ! Lethe's black wine Death, pledging thee, doth pour, And for thy last toast, with grim humour, call ! iS6 STOiVES FROM THE QUARRY; "THE HORSE AND (NOT) HIS RIDER" IN LEICESTER-SQUARE. (120) Why stand' St thou riderless, mysterious Steed ! 'Mid waifs and strays, and wastes ; while cross hard-by — Strange contrast ! — Life's quick currents ? Will none try To mount thee, test thy mettle and thy breed ? Thy long arrears demand thy strain of speed To fetch thee up abreast o' the times, which fly Swift by thee : fall'n i' th' abject rear far, lie Old memories, rider, worn-out faith, and creed ! It seems he could not sit thee, and is gone Where all go, who ride not well up with Time! Bold rider needs thy back ! With such an one, " The coming Man ! " With thundering hoof sublime, Ventre a terre, and, straining every limb, Thou'dst leap the Future. Hark ! he comes anon ! THE LOST: IN MEMORIAM. Upon this bier (ere th' other half o' the debt To Death be paid), whence that beloved form Was rendered to the cold earth and the worm. And all that wars with love and makes forget, I strew these withered roses, once, fresh, set About the brow of Hope. Gone all their charm And perfume ; all, save one, beyond the harm And scathe of Time ; pale, dashed, and dimmed, but yet Not touched corruptibly ! The rest are naught ! Poor evanescent flowers of Youth and Hope ! But this an " everlasting " is — if aught Of Man be such, who for lost things doth grope 'Mid ashes : from the heart its life is wrought. And tears for dew embalm it, shut or ope ! LONDON AND THE THAMES. O thou, aye-pulsing and true median vein Of the great Metropolitan heart, which beats So full, and glows with fervours and with heats Of its Humanity, to Freedom's gain ; So pulse thou, ever ; and to the great Main Those pulses time ; that, whether it retreats, Or thy great effluent love with largesse greets. Thy grand world-pulses thou may'st still retain ! No little island-throb, no feeble beat. As at th' extremities, is this of thine ; "Great heart in little body," with thy heat The world is warmed, and touched to issues fine. Freedom, elsewhere as dead, sprang to her feet, At thy electric touch, from ocean's brine ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 187 THE VANISHING-POINT. In the perspective of those dim, long years, That stretch beyond into Futurity, And lose themselves, we know not where or why, What vanishing-point of Being there appears ? By golden mists of Hope, or dimming tears, Made indistinct ; as gorgeous sunset-sky With bright presentments charms, yet cheats the eye ; Or vague, chill mist the landscape dims and blears. As we advance no clearer grows the view ; Th' horizon, still beyond us, still recedes ; To the dread " Sphinx " still leads the avenue, Devouring whoso the dark spell not reads ! No brain those hieroglyphics piercLth through ; The "vanishing-point" of human fai.hs and creeds ! CHARING CROSS, AND THE REGICIDES EXECUTED THERE. Time, Time "forgetting and forgiving " still, Who healeth wounds of human hearts as he Material ruin softens, till it be Enamoured of itself, and so fulfil Its last end, and the Beautiful instil ; Time, and kind Heaven, who in this agree, With Holy Water cleanse, with winds >weep free, This spot from stain of blood, from taint of ill ! Here rose, the weights transpos d, tlini other scale, Which Nemesis inclines still, turn al)out : Deceived deceiver, slayer slain ; all bail To Fortune give, till Time the cause try out. Then sweeps he clean the board ; to that old wail Turns a deaf ear, and " On !" dies, witli a shout ! NO. 50, ALBEMARLE-STREET ; MR. MUR- RAY'S RESIi'ENCE. Here Scott and Byron for the first time met ; Two planets in conjunction bright awhile. Yet whom one orbit could not reconcile. Or joined, or in opposition set. 'Twere merest waste, excess of light, to kt Two suns shine for one day ; or thus to pile "Pelion on Ossa" in a novel style, To the " heav'n of Invention " so to get ! So these two dazzling lights from their first close And conjunctival perigee passed on ; In wider and more distant orbits rose. And filled the heaven of Invention With region-splendours, and with sunset-glows, And trails of glory after they were gone ! 1 88 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; ON THE 57TH REGIMENT (THE DIEHARDS) TAKING THEIR OLD COLOURS TO ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. Wlien the brave " Diehards " 'neath Paul's mighty dome The " old rag," their dedicated colours, bore ; For breeze and battle's tough strain fit no more, Only to stir great thoughts of heart at home ; Through the proud city, where men go and come On other errands, and make golden store Of Peace, which, but for these, War long before Had stuffed his maw with, through its press and hum Marched past those brave, proud few ! But, by wise law, Ere they fixed bayonets, with harsh display a Of force, in recognition of the awe ■ And majesty to Peace and Freedom owing, they Asked Civic leave, with power of yea and nay ; Thus doubly honoured each Power the other saw ! THE POET AND THE CUP OF TRUTH. He would have Truth ! Yet first the cup must smear With choicest honey from Fancy's flowers made By his own bees of Hybla, to evade The ^///tv-sweet ! — with flavours not known here On Earth, herbs grown high up, to heaven near, Fine-herbs of grace, which wither in Earth's shade ! Thus daintily disguised, he sips, afraid To drain it : bitter flavours still adhere ! Yet drink ! and wish no Circe's cup instead : Bareheaded, humbly-kneeling, drink — to God ! 'Tis sacramental ; wine from pure grapes, fed With blood of Martyrs ; from soil holy, trod By all Earth's noblest, best, living and dead ! Tho' bitter, cordial 'tis for heart and head ! THE HOUSE OFF TAVISTOCK-PL., TAVISTOCK-SQ.. WHERE FRANCIS BAILY WEIGHED THE EARTH. Here Baily in the subtle scales of Thought Placed Earth, with all her balance-weights of seas. Her mountains and Man's molehills, poles that freeze And torrid zones that scorch ; here, patient wrought At his grand problem, till the Earth was brought By spell of subtle numbers, nice degrees. As spells raise spirits, though far less than these, To tell her weight and bulk, as it were nought But pound- weights in the balance ! In his hand He held it — as a very little thing In the so fine esteem of Thought ! How grand Those k\v small figures, with which now we bring To mind this bulk of Earth ! O'er sea and land What light, like break of a new day, they fling ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 189 NELSON'S COLUMN, TRAFALGAR SQUARE. (121) Doth of thy face the shame not cover thee, O England ! or must thy dull cheeks be made To tingle by vicarious shame's sharp aid ? Shall Strangers' senses be more graced to see And blush for thy shortcomings ! or shall he Who, moved by noble emulation, laid His offering on that shrine, say or hear said — ' ' Thou grudgest little where he gave so free. And he a stranger ! " Pocket thy false pride ; The gift take, but put out at interest ! Thy Nelson's glory 'neath thy "bushel " hide ! Then, when his fame (shield to thy thankless breast), And very shame, thy lagging action chide. Stick up a " Guy," and at the cost protest ! BOOKS : THE CHILDREN OF THE BRAIN. If it behoves thee of thy body's fruit To take account, that from thee there be bred No devil i' the heart, madman i" the head. Through sins inherited and following suit ; Or lusts, obliterating Man in Brute ; How much more of those births delivered ■ From thy clear brain, Minerva-like, instead Of fleshly process, gross compared to it ! Immortal and ubiquitous, to death And accident not servile, they may play Most "devilish cantrips sleight ; " be as the breath Of life ; blessings and cursings may convey ; Pillory thy name to scorn, or make it aye To shine, like star, that for thee witnesseth ! SAPPHO. (122) O Heart, all love ; Soul, all aglow like fire ! Thy heart, like incense, burning sweet away, And self-consumed, in its own ashes lay ; Those ashes, thy own poems (where Desire, E'en at its lowest, purer than Sense, far higher, So sweetly-human, yearneth), glow for aye ; So that if stirred, ay, e'en to this our day, They kindle, as of some great funeral pyre ! O mighty Love ! to whom was dedicate That pure, fresh antique life, that lived and died, As the sweet flowers imsophisticate ; Thou hast embalmed that memory far and wide ; And graced observance still doth on it wait. As on a shrine o'er which thou dost preside ! I90 STONES FROM THE QUARRY: THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF 1851. Like a bright exlmlation from the ground It rose, and Wonder wondered whence, how, when ; Wondered with pencil, pen, eyes, tongues of men. Lilce winged Mercury, Hope hover'd round. And Iris, Heaven's messenger ! Peace found A resting-place, or thought to, there and then ; Not scared from land to land, but denizen Of Earth, sole-thron'd, with endless olives bound ! Sweet dews from heaven refreshing fell on all Man's faded hopes, while Peace shook from her wings, Her gentle, dovelike wings, at every fall And wafture, balmy drops and minist'rings. Yes ! the Prophetic Soul in great and small Stirred the World's pulses, and to that Faith clings ! BOOKS. A wise and noble book is as a friend, A bosom-friend ; one to whom we may trust Our secret thoughts, securer than if thrust Under strong wards and locks : he free doth lend His "talent," and leaves thee as free to spend. J No flaws of temper his bright humour (rust " On steel) doth show; and, when thou please, he must Hold tongue, and give long story a short end. Always at home, yet nev-er in the way. He soothes thy humours with unruffled smile ; When thou conversest with him thy thoughts play Like innocent childhood, that knows nothing vile. Truer than Woman's love, that shifteth aye ; _ Or friend who only goes with thee a mile ! ■ NELSON'S COLUMN IN TRAFALGAR.SQUARE BEFORE IT WAS FTNISHED. (123) "In a deep vision's intellectual scene," What time ghosts cock-crow dread and "laying" sun, Ere Day hath o'er the Africk Night yet won His win-lose game ; and Silence shy, between Rare footfall and clock-strike, her solemn mien Resumes, I passed that column not yet done ; Like ill-told tale, that halts still 'twixt begun And ended, betwixt "To-be" and "Has-been !" I stai;ted ! By the base a figure sate. In vi iled dejection ; awed, I paused and stood. Then came a low, grand voice disconsolate, Fate ul, and such as doth grave haps prelude : " Lo I, Britannia, pondering here on Fate, Warn_this my people 'gainst ingratitude !" OR, MOODS OF MIND. 191 SIC ITUR AD? His lease nigh run, Death shortens his dim sight, Shortens his inching pace, lest he should see And overstep the narrow trench, to be His " Thus far and no farther." Close-drawn, night Hangs like a "drop-scene " o'er the Infinite ; Strange gleams come through, strange shadows flit and Phantasmagorias : retrospectively [flee, Like curtain o'er the Past, shutting out light. Oblivion's blank falls I Second childhood creeps Along the narrowing neck between two seas. Fine line, 'twixt Past and Future, two dread deeps ; Its "vanishing-point" the meeting-plajce of tliese ! There falls he, as one falls, who dreanis and sleeps, Over a cliff", and dreams Death more than sees ! THE DESIGN OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE. Did the wise bee (deviceful architect), Nature's Commissioner of Industry, Pleased with the Human hive's analogy To that which he doth with such skill erect, Art could not otherwise nor more effect ; Suggest to Man adaptive mimicry, "With difference in resemblance to apply His hexagon, and simplest means select For grandest ends ? So rose the fairy-place ; Cube cube redupHcating, square on square ; Where rule, as dials time, apportions space ! And, lest the Beautiful be wanting there. The long perspective miss its crowning-grace, (124) Light's tints converge in opalescent air ! A CATHEDRAL FUNERAL-SERVICE. Her heart is full to overflowing, as A cup just ranning over ; one big tear, Than Cleopatra's pearl more precious-dear. Falls, and its purple bounds it doth o'erpass ! "With the warm precious drops Death, wasteful, has Bedewed his sterile path so blank and drear : Too costly dew ! in vain shed there, o'er sere And broken hearts, and hopes cut down like grass ! The organ's vast, deep, mournful thunder-roll, But muffled (like the ground-swell of the sea, At distance, sad-presaging), fills the soul : Collective utterance of Mortality ! As if, in yearning sympathy, the Wliole Bewailed, with that poor one, the dread To-be ! 192 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; IMMORTALITY. Beautiful yet fleeting ! Most divine Urania, tliou true Venus of the soul ! Thou whose transcendent beauty might console All pangs and voids, could we but once enshrine In one immortal clasp that form of thine, (O sum of bliss and Being's utmost goal ! ), Through which the Light eterne, which fills this Whole, Too dazzling shines for Mortals to define Thy form and presence. Oh, before thee here, Poor worm of Earth, I fall ; while, passing by, With music in thy motion like the sphere, And crown'd as with the starry galaxy, Thou blindest with excess of light too near. And mock'st me ; still a splendid mystery ! THE OPENING OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. It looks as it had sprung up in a night. Like Jonah's gourd ! As if the Elements (In furtherance of Heav'n's benign intents), With magic powers co-operant (a sight To dumb-strike Wonder and to startle Light), Presented it to vi§w : all sweet'st consents And joined strengths, all favouring instruments Conspiring to produce a new Delight ! Earth holds it up, like diamond, to the sun ; Parades and shows it off, a thing of joy. And a new pleasure, capping all else won ! As a proud child some beautiful new toy. So in her lap kind Pleav'n drops one by one Its God-sends, to delight her and employ! TO ENGLAND. When on thy form, beloved England mine, 1 look, as thou art featured in the map. And muse on all thy good and evil hap ; Of all thou hast of Human and Divine, Plough, loom, sword, alt.ar, pen, the sacred Nine, With thy great Shakspear all (not Heaven's) to cap ; Even as a lover do I seem to wrap Thee round my heart, and thy dear form enshrine ! In the material presentment thou Dost truly but a little cantle show Of this great world ; but on thy sea-girt brow Sits Power like a halo ; there doth go A virtue from thee unto which men bow. And far thy shadow doth thy glory throw ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 193 THE DEATH OF SPINOZA. (125) Hast thou a thought to spare, a tear to shed, Not yet bespoken, not ah-eady paid ? Approach ! 'tis over ! grim Death hath just made His last dread summons ; there he lieth, dead ! Alone, self-centred, that brave spirit fled. Solved now the mystery, with which he laid So calmly his account ; nor yet afraid. Nor 5^7/-possessed, but God-possessed, God-led ! On truth he looked with fixed and single eye, Unwavering ; never turned his stedfast gaze Therefrom, nor ever winked, confused by The motes of error tioating in its rays. His soul was focus'd true to Deity, Whose truth through him, as light through diamond, plays ! THE CRYSTAL PALACE. Methinks this dome diaphanous, this flood Of light, exalts the function of mere eye, And fills the soul with sense of purity. With light clothed as a garment. None but good And purest thoughts, methinks, should here intrude ; Such as may bear the light ; such as ally The mimic crystal with congenial sky. Conformed, themselves, to the similitude Of their fair palace ! All things here to fair Should turn, and baser touches base not know. Methinks the portals this device should bear, " Wash and be clean ;" the very place says so ! If window-in-the-breast Truth's semblance wear, Such mansion should with such like tenant go ! THE TRUE AMBITION. Ambition, like the eagle, buildeth high His eyrie, often lost amid the cloud. His plumage ruffled, tempest-beat ; too proud He to consort with lesser fowl, would fly At highest game, and fain would keep the sky ; But oft, himself o'er-flying, finds a shroud, Not apotheosis, with pointing crowd, And capital letters of Humanity ! But when sunward his eagle-sight doth bend ; And, moulting lesser feathers of desire. His wings on greatest efforts only spend Themselves, his flight demands a Muse of fire. Not sitting on low perch, for earthly end. But borne, true Phcenix ! from Hope's ashes higher ! o 194 STOiVES FROM THE QUARRY; THE TRUE WIFE. How shall I praise thee, and yet not offend That modesty which is thy sum of grace ; The lily on thy brow, rose on thy face ; Blush-rose, which would not to itself commend Itself, still less to other condescend ! Yet must I piece thee out, and loving trace Thee in particulars, tho' not keep pace With thy deserts, but breath superfluous spend In poor superlatives ! O Evening-star ! That bringest all sweet things to house and home : Thy husband feels thee draw him from afar ; And when he hears thy voice his cares are dumb ; Thy children call thee blessed — blessed are ; And ill things coming near thee good become ! WHAT THOU DOEST, DO WITH ALL THY MIGHT. Flinch not ! Though hard the strife, the battle seem Of life, fall not into the abject rear. For baser things to pass, and, passing, jeer. Up, and be doing ! Those who sleep may dream, And, waking, glide to ruin with the stream. Make thy heart as an anvil, ringing clear. To hammer thy purpose on ; till there appear No flaws, but like hard steel it be and gleam ! Then art thou clad in proof of harness, head To heel — canst Fortune's blows take in good part, As training for all who must win their bread ; Then, like the Spartan, ]5roud of strength, not art Or fence alone, thou worthy art to wed Dame Fortune, who loves such with all her heart I L\TELLECTUAL LABOUR. Dogs at the mouth sweat ; so do many men, More women still themselves by mouth do spend, And, with much labour, neither make nor mend ! ]3ut they who think by brain sweat and at pen ; And their sweat-drops are pearls, or pearls' worth, when They crystallize, and, in brave words set, send (True gems of thought) forth lustrous light, and lend New grace to grace, grace things ungraced till then. This sweat, no product of the common blood, But wrung from the fine ichor of the brain (126) By long gestation, birth-throes, such as should Precede, with mingled ecstasy and pain, Minervalike-delivery, nought could Save Jove-like labour yield, and with like strain ! i 1 OR, MOODS OF MIND. 195 VIVE MEMOR LETHI! When thou hast trained thy soul so steadfastly, And to that true and even balance wrought That neither one way nor t'other sways thy thought At Death presentive ; (127) when on him now nigh (As on a mere To-morrow, followed by And following Yesterday), thou, fearing nought, Canst look ; and hear (as stage-aside is caught By lingering actor), his, " A^cnu must thou die," The true, the dread "aside !" When thou canst hear Unmov'd that whisper, to thee sole addrest. The while (the stage all stir) the audience cheer Some present actor at his present best ; Then, like the dial's shadow, steal from here, And leave thy place in sunshine for new guest ! PARIS. Blood cries up from thy streets ; stone unto stone, And beam calls unto beam from out thy wall ! Stol'd History trails her skirts as of a pall Athwart thy ways, and maketh still her moan ; And dips her pen in blood of martyrs gone To tell the tale of those who yet shall fall ; And keeps a large f>age blank, to write thee all At length, when Nemesis shall claim her own ! O bright and beautiful ! Yet with foul stain Of blood on thy so dainty hands, I trow : " Out, damned spot ! " thou say'st still and again, But, as before, it cleaves unto thee now. Thou, of the nations beautiful — Insane, Medusa-like, hast snakes about tliy brow ! HAPPINESS IN REACH OF ALL. If of Man's happiness capacity True measure be, and not large-mawed Desire, How little have we need of ! All that's higher And better, Best, becomes so mostly by Ourselves ; by estimation and Mind's-eye : As that is focus'd, ever clearer, nigher Our happiness ; or dimmer, less entire ; Fire on the hearth, or Northern lights in sky, Dazzling, but cold, far off ! For health, pure food But simple — toil ; best sauce to appetite — Partner for heart, to halve III, double Good ; Sweet toil for children, love toil to requite. God for thy Soul, which doth all Good include ; With Knowledge, cheap, yet precious as the light ! o 2 196 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; THE VIOLENT CONTRASTS OF NATURE. Oh, how caressing in her gentlest mood Is Nature ! With her sweet May-breath she blows Asunder the soft petals of the rose, Gentle as infant's breathing, lest she should Rumple the blushing lawn, whose texture would Put Dacca's looms to shame ! Noiseless, she throws The shuttle of the elements for those Her flower-soft robes, as if to clothe some nude And brine-emerging Venus ! Who would think Those cheeks could puff like Boreas ? That Sea, Fondling his bride-like Earth, lipping her brink As lovers kiss, could " Hercules furens " be? That Earth, which this To-day with heaven might link, To-morrow more like link with hell may see TO . t Oh could I see thy face again ! to gaze On which was cordial and restorative ; As if it said " Fret not thy soul, nor strive After a vain thing in the world's crooked ways ;" As if of Peace the very resting-place. Peace in degrees not, but superlative ; At peace with self, at peace with all who live, With God ; His very Peace thy very face ! Oh could I hear (rhy voice again ! Soft, low, Yet steadfast, with a very inwardness. As thy sweet soul with every word did go, With power who heard thee, as thyself, to bless. Vain thought ! Yet what thyself, if such and so, Thy memory, poor lay-figure ! we thus dress ! TRUE GREATNESS. Sweat upon brow is good, and toil of hand, That shapeth outwardly the thought of Man ; But nobler far that which eye may not scan. The inward sweat, which greatest things demand, Of heart and brain, sole title to command In word or deed : labour Herculean Is greatness which would take large lease and span' Of Fame, and, seen of all, the searching stand. Yes ! through this furnace of high suffering And doing thou must pass thy very heart. And keep it at white heat, till the true ring It get, from crack, flaw free in every part ; Let Fortune sound it then, it will not start ; 'Tis fit (to God or Man) for everything I k OR, MOODS OF MIND. I97 TO MAY, ON A LOVELY, DREAMY DAY. O thou soft Siren full of flatteries ! With honey-breath, with lazy hum of bee, Not Industry's blithe pipe now, but to me Turned to its opposite, in drowsy wise ; And, for more spells, more subtle witcheries. Soft rustle of the leaves, birds' melodie, With falling waters, making sense to flee. And Time, to keep awake still, rub his eyes. thou sweet Sybarite ! I lay my head On thy voluptuous breast, whose Siren beat Unstrengths, as Samson shorn Delilah led ! Like the beats of doves' wings the moments fleet ; 1 lie on heap'd up roses, Nectar-fed, Lapped from all cares in some divine retreat ! PERSONAL IDENTITY. ' Out, damned spot ! (128) Thou dost off"end my sight ; For, gazing oft and fixedly on thee. All things of the same sombre hue I see When I withdraw mine eye ; black, black as night ! Smell, too, thou dost offend, spoil' st all delight Of all ; thou smellest rank, rank as can be. Of charnel-house and mere Mortality ; All thoughts of all foul things thou dost unite ! Can nothing wash thee out, burn, cauterise ; No solvent loosen, even change thy hue ? Nought, nought ! 'tis in the blood ; Humanity's Birth-mark ; deep taint that runs in and through alll Like squint, halt, blemish foul, Identity's Sign visual, this the Mind's eye troubles too ! Oh what, without this hope, were all's Man's skill Of hand, device of brain, discoveries, Art, Science, with her double-sighted eyes. Full-fed on wonders, yet insatiate still ; What flights of pen, or triumphs of the will. What pencils dipt in tints of rainbow skies. What all Life's rich adornments ! Gilded lies ; A gulf still yawns none, nor all these, can fill ! 'Tis but to strew sweet flowers on a grave ; To sculpture fair the outside of a tomb ; To wet lips which Elixir-vita; crave ; High-lights to deepen the dread picture's gloom ; To heap up all our treasures, all we have, Lay ourselves on the pyre, and wait our doom ! 198 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; OLD AGE. Sour looks, harsh words, and stinted courtesy, Stuff, with worse ills, thy pack, despised Age ! And if it galls thee more at each sad stage, The humble salve which suits contempt apply ; Tho' 't make thy gall smart, bring tears to thine eye, Not such as funeral-napkin can assuage. Or turn to smiles ere read the will's last page ; Nor such brief rheums as in an onion lie ! Perennial thine, and quintessential gall ! Not such as Love in lachrymatories Stores up, the eyes that shed them to recall. Thy shadow's almost the sole thing that flies Thee not ; and that upon a grave doth fall ; Thyself a shadow of thyself in all ! O poor, lone Age ! Thou losest hold o' the hand Of Hope on one side, as of Memory O' the other ! One doth give thee the go-by When thy sore needs her presence most demand ; The other turns back to the dreary land Of dim forgetfulness, where failing eye And sense can her receding form not spy ; Thus tricked and hocus'd, thou dost maundering stand With mouth agape ! Thy poor wits in a maze Of Present-absent, Absent-present — things Forgot ; dim, flitting shapes — as at four ways Night-wanderers puzzle, thou, in far worse case, Clutchest each straw quick-lapsing Memory brings. As drowning grip to passing floatage clings ! Thy poor brain, nearly gone, serves but to feed Its self-begotten maggots. Fancy wild. Like some poor cast-off crazed one with child. Brings forth things strange and of unnatural breed ; To present body sticking on past head ; After before — things of wild odds compil'd, Chimseras, Gorgons — stray notes that beguil'd Thy innocent childhood ; voices of the dead ! So, like a strange phantasmagoria Of fleeting images, from the weak hold Of Sense let slip — Fancy's disjointed play — Real and unreal— like some botched tale ill-told — As it began, so ends thy little day ; Childish in mind and sense, child young, child old ! \ OR, MOODS OF MIND. I99 ON A LOVELY, STILL MAY-DAY. Rest, rest ! all seems to be, and feel, and say. The soft and balmy air has but just stress Enough t' imprint a kiss of happiness On the half-parted lips of odorous May, And, with her sweet breath mingling, fade away. The leaf scarce stirs, in pleasure's restlessness, For sense of change. Nature, as in undress, Her toilette leaves half-finished for one day. The sun shines as if he had nought to do. Who does so much (His Maker imaging), By look and light. The clouds are still and few, Like ships becalmed. So resteth everything. So rest, my Soul ! and let this pause, like dew. Refresh thee, inward peace recovering. "HEU! QUANTO JUCUNDIUS EST TUI MEMINISSE QUAM ALUS VERSARL" How shall I paint, or on what canvas, say, How represent thee to the outward eye ; How, harder (art beyond photography), Before the mind's- eye thy presentment lay ? I must depict thee on a heart, which may Extend thee in itself conformably With what thou wert, and with that love whereby I can (no otherwise) thyself portray. Thyself art of thyself sole-capable ! And there (like precious saint with haloed head In pictured niche) thou, self-enshrin'd, dost dwell. And as a curtain pious hands oft spread O'er such, so I of thee no more now tell. But draw a veil, for more said were less said ! E'en as, in some wild gust of passion, we Do posture strangely and gesticulate. And with grotesque the tragic complicate ; While tears and laugh hysteric at strife be, Things that ill, like mad Lear and 's fool, agree ; So, with weak words that come not or too late, Like poor dumb signs, sounds half articulate, I strive to utter what aye more doth flee The nearer still it seems ! Oh idle Words ! How little of us comes in your confines ! Like voiceless Nature and the poor dumb herds. To our Soul's grief ye are but like dumb signs. Then read, writ large, with Mind's eye 'twixt the lines, All I would say with these poor tenths and thirds ! 20O STONES FROM THE QUARRY; FIRST LOVE. O rose, full of the primy dew of mom, Life's virgin-morn, just bursting into flower ; In' freshness of thy youth, fulness of thy dower Of beauty ; not one charm dashed, one grace shorn ; No forecast thou canst ever be forlorn ; Canst fade and shed thy leaves in ordained hour, Like canker-blooms ; or worm of grief devour Thy budding beauty till it be a scorn ! One breath of thy so ravishing perfume Intoxicates the sense, until we seem Immortal and beyond the reach of doom ! It hangs around us yet ; and e'en the dream Of that enchanting time, 'mid later gloom. Like morn re-risen on dark noon doth gleam ! THE SERVICE OF THE MUSE. Those meeting fervours, that prevenient grace Of inspiration, when the heavenly Muse To thy low state doth condescend, well use. And grace, so being graced — let all give place Thereto ; to that revealing of her face Divine ; for thou canst not the moment chuse (Oh neither then neglect it nor abuse), Nor yet the manner of her rare embrace ! As Juno to I.xion, with a cloud That barren passing drops nor rain nor dew. She mocks th' incapable, self-seeking proud : But Venus to Anchises unto you She'll prove, if with a spirit high yet bow'd. Thou love her for herself, and serve her true ! INNER FREEDOM. Many are slaves, or slavish, who would shake Their chains indignantly to prove them free, Should 'st thou but hint that such or so they be, Not " free of no mean city." It would take Far other strengths than Samson used to break His withies ; for their bonds these do not see ; Invisible, self- forged — Idolatrie And worship of false gods they themselves make. Of subtler forais of servitude we find Men's natures narrowed to a book, a creed, A sect, a Shibboleth ; blind leading blind : A capital sin in Nature's page to read God's law, "writ large" by Himself, Who doth bind His creatures only to what He doth need ! OK, MOODS OF MIND. 201 TO Love to those lovely eyes, twin stars of light ! Flew from the furthest sky direct as thought. And like a moth by sudden radiance caught, Sought at all points if there he enter might. But finding that thy chaste soul held him slight, About he hovers, yet prevaileth nought ; At most, a tiny mote, he there hath wrought ; But with his wonted blindness failed to smite ! 'Tis not a mote "to trouble thy mind's eye ; " Yet on such tenant "notice" serve, for there He'll lodge, and for all quit-rent pay a sigh ; While he spreads for thee some insidious snare ! Till by degrees that tiny mote all thy Sweet vision film, and t/iou Love's blindness share ! THE REVERSIBLE POLITICAL PALETOT. " Small by degrees and beautifully less," Distinction without difference almost, The vanishing-point where finally, ere lost. Meet Tory and Liberal lines, and acquiesce. By what defect here, there by what excess Each becomes other ; with how little cost Of principle the mongrel-" strains " are crost, For a new hybrid, he who runs may guess ! As Jacob's sheep and cattle did conform To the ring-streak'd and spotted rods, so place And office Liberal and Tory form. Placeless, the Liberal shows the dull7?('r^'-face; The Tory crawls, as like as worm to worm : But sight of those will speck and spot each race ! MENS SANA IN CORPORE SANO. Can there worse folly be than — "pearl to Swine? " Yes ! we may with a worse superlative Cap that, and kill the bees that fill the hive. As health 'bove pearl, 'bove earthly the divine ; That folly in such measure is of thine, O Man, who sacrificest Life to live ; The most Enduring for most P"ugitive ; The pearl o' price for refuse of the mine ! Thy health of soul and body thou dost spend In fleshly lusts and worldliness, as though But base commodities men buy and vend. Thou let'st the precious spring in waste o'erflow, Which green thy life should keep unto the end, Aad through waste places, led by Death, dost go ! 202 STO.VES FROM THE QUARRY ; GENIUS ; ITS CREATIVE POWER. When minds conceptive and original Delivered are, with Nature for midwife ; Gestation perfect, nought with her at strife, Self-birthing, without forceps surgical ; How strong and lively doth the issue fall From their so teeming brains ; as full of life As eke Minerva, with a wit as ripe As her great sire's, answering every call. Nothing so "flat, stale, and unprofitable," But they can set a gloss of novelty Upon it — th' earthy Caliban compel To serve some dainty Ariel of the sky ; Make the heart beat, laugh ring, the tear to swell ; " One touch of Nature " all they conjure by. LOVE'S DIALECT. Why call ye, blushing messengers, to each Fair cheek Love's living rose of modesty ? Seeks, then, that eloquent soul which in her eye Beyond the Bar doth plead, the Pulpit preach. By dumb expressive signs beyond dull speech, (Painting the cheek with Love's own heraldry, Gules, gules ; the crimson substitutes whereby Her blood doth speak), o'er Mediates (128*) to reach, Direct from soul to soul ! It must be so ; truthful messengers ! who, blushing, say (And leave no doubt like spoken " yes " or " no '), 1 need not fear a yes-misconstrued-nay ! Bear from my eyes to hers the answer ; go ! And, without words, say all my heart would say ! GENIUS; ITS STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS. Insatiate still, thou stretchest out thy hand ; Hands to which Kings, though long, have not like thine Such reach and grasp of Human and Divine. And yet the Yearn'd-for, Coveted (like sand Too largely clutched), slip through thy grasp so grand, And fall in fragments ! Precious they may shine, Yet not the sunlike diamond single-fine, But its fine dust, things which all else withstand To polish still sole-fit ! Thou must in all, Of all, with less content be ; satisfied To polish, at new angle set, in small. Some facette of God's truth — to trail thy pride ; And hear, when thou with base things dost foul-fall, Who strivest as with angels, fiends deride ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 203 THE SWAY OF GREAT AUTHORS. I love to let some mighty soul of old, Some Spirit true- Promethean, with the heat Of his grand contact {like a furnace meet The Potter's finest clay to bake and mould). Heat me right through and through, so that I cold May never grow again, but still defeat Time's frost and numbness, and retain complete The "brand " of the great Potter, clear and bold ! I love to let the intellectual flood Rise on my mental shores to top of spring, O'erflow " with might of waters unwithstood " Each bay and creek, and float each stranded thing, Beat back the petty streams of my heart's-blood, And brim the channels with the tides they bring ! TO . Where are those eyes in which Love gathered all His ardours, fervours, and conjunctive rays. And fused, as in a focus, in one blaze. To scorch all hearts on which their glance might fall ; Had he not, such dread issue to forestall. Blent melting pity with them, and their gaze, As April drops, soft dews, and tender haze The sun, attempered at sweet Mercy's call ! Where is that voice which took the listening air, And made it hold its breath as if spell-bound ? To hear which Silence would herself forswear, And Echo with repeats prolong the sound. Gone, gone ! and Love himself forlorn must fare Sore wounded, when he only thought to wound ! TO A YOUNG LADY. On that fair page, thy face, Time hath not writ Thee yet at large ; the lines there still are few And cursive ; and the characters, yet new (Not stereotyped to thy more settled wit And purpose), various readings may admit. The text, not yet collated, on review Of new editions, with corrections due. Time will revise, and both add and omit ! So, most fair book ! since I may not turn o'er The page to see what's writ o' t' other side, I read between the lines, and try t' explore What good, or (if must) ill hap thee betide ! But o'er the page a mist spreads as I pore ; The Future writes in cipher privacied ! (129) 204 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO . / could not love thee if, though in how poor Soever fashion, I had, were not, good Myself, to love its best similitude In thee ; though mine be but as the poor floor, Or lowest step unto the temple-door ; Thine as the shrine itself ; wherein intrude No thoughts unsanctioned, nought profane or rude, Unconsecrate ; but purest of the pure ! I could not love thee and not good become ! Thy beauty, thy soul's shadow, in like wise As light is Truth's, and Truth of both the sum, Is but thy goodness in another guise ! Thy love is as those steps on which did come (130) And go the angels, and by it I rise ! Thou could'st not love me if thou didst not find Some good in me ; been, being, or to be ; In act, or thereof possibilitie. Some faint reflection of thy better mind, Whatever in degree, not else in kind ; A glass, in which some image thou may'st see Of thy good, still to be eked out by thee : Motes in the sight too, yet not wilful-blind ! Thy Best and Most eke out my Worst and Least ; Yet best-ed, most-ed, mere-comparative ; My Least but Less, but Better my most Best ! Thou still must be my sole-Superlative ! Yet thus approaching thee, supremely-blest. My 111 thou takest, and thy Good dost give ! SHAKSPEAR'S WONDERFUL ASSIMILATIVE POWER. In the grand furnace of thy genius What vessels rare of finest porcelain, Vessels of grace, vases for heart and brain Themselves to empty in (surcharged thus, More unto Most, Excess to Overplus, With thy additions ; cumulative gain) ; Have been kept at white heat by thy full strain Of inspiration, graced for the use And service of the Muses ! Through that fire Oh let me pass my poor untempered clay, And, keeping still that heat of high desire, Come forth a vessel for the Muse to lay Her holy hands on ; and, like urn on pyre, All that is earthy in it bum away ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 205 THE TEMPLE. With " Evidences," proofs, " Analogies," (131) The rough ways ye make smooth, the crooked straight, That from Earth's ends lead to the Temple-gate : To which those steps majestically rise, Worn by the tread of holy centuries ! The spacious portals seem to stretch, dilate, To welcome the great hosts, early and late, Which stream to hear that message of the skies ! Oh, will it stand the earthquake and the shock Of Change, before which venerable things, Clothed in the sanctities of ages, rock And reel, while sadly to her Cross Faith clings ! Alas ! Time goes past with a rush, and mock I' the tongue, and with the whirlwind of his wings ! LIFE ETERNAL. Blessed are they who fallen have asleep In the Lord Christ, untroubled by a doubt ; To whom Death comes, like gaoler, to let out From this vile prison-house of flesh : who weep Most precious tears, and with His pure blood steep And medicine the wounds they bear about In the World's warfare ; with His scorn their flout Console, their deep wound with His deepest wound ! O blessed faith ! without thee what were Man ! Poor, naked wretch ! stript without and within ; (Worse than when, wild yet credulous, he ran), With all to lose, nought here or there to win ! A howling wilderness this Life ! a span ! And that too long for selfishness and sin ! . TO . (132) How shall I paint thee ? Shall it be with pen Or pencil ? With weak, dedicated phrase, _ Strained and stretch'd to measure of thy praise ; With windy rhetoric which fails most when 'Tis needed most ? Not in the tongues of men Thy commendation dwells ; such praise gainsays Thy worth ; too loud for tliy meek, gentle ways ; Sweet, but like violets, most most out of ken ! Shall I, then, in a Titian's palette dip The pencil ; paint thee radiant as the morn, With dewy eyes, and mouth where bees might sip ? No ! with the modest lilies I adorn Thy stainless brow ; set truth upon thy lip, True Rose of Sharon ! Rose without a thorn ! 2o6 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; GENIUS ISOLATED— " V.'E SOLO ET SINGULARI." Live not alone in and to Self, O Man ; The circle from that centre drawn doth run Through a false Zodiac, thyself the sun ! Shapes more bizarre and strange than eye doth scan (Yet those significant of ordered plan). On the celestial sphere : thy earthlier one (Which the grand heavenly parallel doth shun), Without sweet human seasons Life doth span, A circle drawn in sand ! If thou touch not The solid earth thy strength shall weakness be. Like sheared Samson's ; blind, like his thy lot ; Betray'd by thy Delilah, mocked as he. Thou shalt pluck on thyself (or living rot) The temple of thy self-idolatrie ! Maggots of ill-conceit breed in that brain Which feeds upon itself, and from it eat The kernel out, and in base sort repeat Themselves ; breed in-and-in, 'gain and again ; Till quite bred-out the sickly, self-crossed "strain." O sorry sight ! When on that royal seat Of kingly reason 4he mad Ape, Conceit, Holds state, and drives forth Genius like a Cain, Branded and fugitive ! Oh, thou divine Possession, yet not set apart thereby ! Thou, like the miser's hoard, dost barren shine, If touches still of our Humanity In act and use upon thee set not sign. And Man's true image give thee currency ! TO THE SWEET NYMPH . Coy Lily-of-the-vale ! whoso would find Thy whereabouts, must turn aside, and play At hide-and-seek with Nature by the way ; And ask the wandering and perfum'd wind, Sweet innocent tell-tale, where, perdiii, behind Some verdurous covert, thou mak'st coy display. Yet prodigal for thee, if but a ray Of sun betray thee through its leafy blind. The rose upon thy cheek is pale, save when It blush at praise of its own loveliness ; Like some sweet Dryad thou the ways of men Dost shun, and lovest Nature in undress, And, as without within, thou alien In soul dost seem, beyond dull earthly guess. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 207 DOUBT. As with that spirit quintessential (133) Of grain or berry, Bacchus' fiery dew (Strong as the fire his own birth passed through), Not that with which he doth the Muses call To tread the winefat, Nature's festival. But with Vulcanian aid distilled by new And fiery arts, all Winter's power can do Of Polar, still doth leave, congealed else all, A heart of liquid fire ! So with mine ; That frost at heart of a worse winter far, Which numbeth all, at core spares some divine Elixir-vitce, w^hich the frost doth bar. O God ! if that be frozen like mere wine. Frost all, within, without, alike will mar ! If this be so, e'en let us imitate (134) The Thracian, put at birth our mourning on ; As in long funeral-procession Taking our place in sad foredoomed state. As who march less to Life than lifelong Fate ! Let these poor mortal weeds the New-born don As mourning both for selves and those foregone, And Death the firstlings claim e'en at Life's gate ! Let not the breasts that suckle be termed blest ; The milk of human kindness poison call ! Not e'en the rim of Life's cup will have zest, When Death the very honey turns to gall : Slow poison, without antidote, at best ; And not a holy sacrament to all ! What, then, the lofty cry— " Excelsior ! " The Christian Warrior, toiling up the steep Of virtue, while, like swine, the worldlings keep The flowery skirts, and his heart-sweat abhor. Shouts with last breath, a fancied conqueror ! W'ho, still with "in hoc signo vinces," cheap Holding his life and taking the last leap. Hears a faint echo mock him with an "or?" That in the void dies wail-like ! Oh, " most lame And impotent conclusion ! " Oh, if Good Be aught, and God and Good be One, the Same, Can such a shadow such a life delude ! Methinks the Universe were put to shame, And God Himself at fault twixt "Would" and "Could 2o8 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO A YOUNG MOTHER. Yes ! Love hath writ him large in that sweet face, Writ with his freest hand, his best of styles : Methinks the sweet name, "Mother," in those smiles Is character'd ; none others own such grace ; None those can counterfeit, none take their place. Love with all others mingles some sweet guiles, With baser touches Passion oft defiles, But these are pure, of earth show scarce a trace. Yes ; thou hast seen them in the tiny glass Of infant -faces sweet reflections' meet, From large to small the recognition pass. So, in smooth sunlit waters, ripples fleet, From centre stirred, in tiny dimples as They laugh in sunshine, and, in small, repeat. THE EARLY DEATHS OF RAPHAEL, MOZART, KEATS, &c. O Death, thou terrible reaper ! why such speed ? Could'st thou not spare the stately ears that stand Above the level grain, so full and grand ; That take the first and latter sun, and lead The hopes of harvest ; but must like the weed Low lay them, and destroy them out of hand. Ere they could ripen to full self-command, And gloriously mellowing run to seed ? Why dost thou spare mechanic hand and brain, That scarcely parts his function from the brute, To let us see, then snatch away again. And hear, an angel, but to strike him mute ! Haply such gifts (too precious to retain) Heaven's loans are ; brief, their value so to suit ! AN ASPIRATION. O thou grand Lyre of the Muses, have Or have I not — is it a vain conceit That I have — stirred by your great borrowed heat Of inspiration, tried a chord that gave New tones, and new-attuned ears doth crave ? A sound went forth, and echoes strange did meet With grand reverbs ; o'er Time and Space they fleet Into Eternity, beyond the Grave ! And I have shrunk from them. My petty cry (As when, oppressed with mountain-solitude, Echoes reduplicate and magnify) Startles strange sounds that Evil bode, as Good. Little mine ear receives ; all's mystery ; So much more that World-echo doth include ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 209 SHAKSPEAR. (135) But one of ten ! yet count for ten times ten ! IVer'st but a tenth, had Nature ^1? ordained ! Yet thy one ten combined had not contained Even "writ small," thou paragon of men ! Strange, that self-same should be so alien ! Self-elemented with them ; touched, constrained To cognate issues ; of one blood ; same-brain'd, Same-liearted, yet so unlike thus and then ! Strange procreant womb of Nature ! thus to make Such difference in resemblance, and self-same In origin function so diverse to take ! ' What 'twixt those close-kin'd nine and thyself came To sunder thus, with scarce more than the name Of consanguinity, to bridge such break ? Some shine in constellations, and are bright With radiance intercommunicate, Each showing brighter from the other's state. Lending and borrowing larger loans of light ; So sisters blend in charm indefinite. And each seems other, and all one create, (136) As all three Graces on one Venus wait. Some pass-on glory ; some play satellite, Increasing and increased ! But thou shon'st sole — A star heliacal, to herald on (137) Thy sun, rose antecedent, but paid toll Of light, and paled at great comparison. None of thine handled pen, or played great role ; Thou wast thyself enough, the \ir\'K\\.\Q-one ! ON A VERY MILD FEBRUARY. Now comes the infant Spring, in tiny hand (Chilled by old grandsire Winter's numbing hold) Bearing pale crocus and the snowdrop cold ; As if her gentle touch, transmuting-bland. Made snowtlakes in their flower-likes expand ! With these she fills her lap, till, grown more bold. In sport half, half to mock that bald-pate old, (138) She turn to May-blooms with her fairy-wand His antiquated snows ! Few are thy flowers, Sweet Childhood o' the year ! thy crocus not " The Cloth o' gold" (139) gilt by the sunny hours ; Pale Primrose peeping shy from some warm spot ; Rose-Christmas, which, sole bloom in icy bowers. Link with sweet hopes sweet memories unforgot ! P 2IO STOXES FROM THE QUARRY; And yet, sweet Child, or ere thou lettest go That old, welked, palsied hand, bethink thee well And gently of him, and no harsh word tell ; " Frosty but kindly," he hath led thee so That thou may'st not too hasty-crescive grow ; Hath sung thee carols quaint, and tales that dwell V the heart, like chimes of dear old home-church-bell, Whose under-tones with Cuckoo's notes blend low, Like distance-sweetened music. Grudge then not Some flowers (of his allowance too) to cheer His exit, though they wither on the spot ; Thou wilt not miss them : so shall in thine ear The Cuckoo's note be sweeter, and thy lot More bless'd for these kind strewments on his bier ! NAPOLEON I. To fit the air for healthy breathing need Of storm and whirlwind is, with world-wide wing To stir the stagnant atmosphere, to fling And toss the yeasty ocean, lest it breed Corruption. Like a fire-maned steed. Through region-clouds electric slumbering, The lightning leaps with thunder-bound and spring, To fit the air for life, the earth for seed. And such, in this our human atmosphere, That thunderbolt of war. Napoleon ; Shattering old " stocks and stones," and making clear Large spaces for Mankind to move upon. A meteor (though men held their breath from fear) Which cleared the air, and Nations breathed anon ! NIGHT ON LAND. The car of Sleep is waiting for thee ; still. And black as night, the steeds prance not nor neigh ; Each on his frontlet bears a starry ray ; While from their nostrils dews of night distil, And poppied breaths that prisoners take the will And sense : with noiseless hoofs they beat away The flaked darkness, and the mists that play About them, shapes Morphean, good and ill. Not seen those vision'd steeds by mortal eye, Which o'er that mid-space of Oblivion Bear thee ; that Lethe on whose each shore lie Thy past and future. Horses of the Sun Some dream them ; wing'd like Pegasus they fly ; Some, Ilippogriffs, which mad fiends ride upon. I 1 OR, MOODS OF MIND. 211 NIGHT ON WATER. Now noiseless, stealing up to the dim shore Of this day's ebbing life,, that fleets away In hopes and fears, in earnest and in play ; Like a dim gondolier with muffled oar, And shadows thickening round him more and more. Sleep, a vague form, his mystic bark doth lay Alongside Lethe's wharf, from the past day To ferry thee, Oblivion's waters o'er, To the dim further bank ! The shore recedes ; Faint grow the sounds of life ; faint, fainter gleam The lights, till nought thy steeped sense longer heeds : As silent as the stars the voyage doth seem. That other shore draws near ; where Hope precedes Thy coming, and Aurore dispels thy dream ! TO THE ADDRESSEE OF THE SONNET P. 205. Oh if Truth in the bottom of a well Her habitation have, and there doth lie Perdu, to see and to reflect but sky. Sure in those wells of light, thine eyes, which tell Her whereabouts, she now, for change, must dwell ! And, bettering what was best, in either eye Reduplicates its and her purity. Twofold, yet one, in either crystal cell ! If purest lymph in crystal vase seem pure, And hard to say which purest, the contained Or the containing ; in those eyes, oh sure ! Thy soul hath suchlike purest medium gained. For there we, free from all that could obscure, Behold it in itself, and self-explained ! UNDER A CLOUD, OR IMMORTALITY AND PERSONAL IDENTITY, I am cast all abroad ; formless and void, My thoughts, in chaos once more uncreate. Are brought to nought ; and nothing is, where late All beauteous Order seemed. Light unstlloyed With darkness, and Peace perfectest enjoyed ; Into dread fathomless depths of a blind Fate, Clutching at stravvs, I sink, in direst strait. Who but now swam, by Hope Divine upbuoyed, A sea of endless glory ! All abroad Lies that divine Inscription, in relief Which stood so bold out and star-printed — flawed, Rent, those divinest letters of Ijelief, Like types unset ! huge jugglery and fraud ! Illegible that Word, the head and chief ! P 2 ai2 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; I am "possessed! " A fiend (the worst !) of Doubt Hath entered in — into my heart of heart, Soul of my soul, my inmost, holiest part ! What though I exorcise him, cast him out ; With seven evil spirits he goeth about, And circumventeth me by force or art. I rage, I madden, at mere shadows start, And would run headlong, like the swinish rout. To mere destruction ! Oh, the thought is Hell ! This is t/ie Hell ; a very present one ; The only, which in our own selves doth dwell ; With which aU light is in comparison ! This is the in/ier darkness ! the outer well We might grope through, and come out in the sun ! LOOK IN THIS GLASS. There is a mirror of such purity That the least breath would dim it ; blur within The clear reflections which its origin And truth attest : for, should it falsify The image, 'twould give its own self the lie ! So fragile, the distempering touch of Sin, Nay, the mere image, aught thereto akin, Would unanneal, and cause to flaw and fly. So should it poorly, brokenly reflect Thy image, perfect, there so pure and grand. Thy "glass of fashion !" which, wise, circumspect, Self-awed, O Woman dear ! should ever stand Before thee, show at large, and, so, correct, Mirror of Chastity, held in Tnith's hand I REMORSE. Oh, how the harsh word, with the gentle speech, Which turneth wrath aside, encountered. Recalled after, and of tongues now dead And silent, makes with to^ti-edged stroke sore breach I' the heart ; no longer ^«<'-edged ! and how each Cuts to the quick ! Oh how rebuked we tread The turf that covers some beloved head, Forgiving and forgiven beyond reach Alike ! How sad that worst of knells, " too late I " When yearning Memorj- leads availless Love To weep o'er graves that bear untimely date ! Oh how the eyes that only looked above, To ask sweet Heaven for patience, make us hate Ourselves, and feel as viper to the dove I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 213 GREAT MEN STOOPING TO PEERAGES. O littleness in greatness, meanness in pride ! Under "the bushel" of a coronet To hide a light like star in heaven set ! To petty pace conventional the stride As of a giant dwarf, with " red-tape " tied ; With ceremonial forms and epithet Of poor additions and mere counterfeit ; Belittled inwards, outwards magnified ! To set as star of the first magnitude, Merged in an artificial galaxy ! The old name lost, the new not understood ; The great, which in men's mouths he was known by, Obscured ; true homage, due but unto Good, Transferr'd, or render'd but vicariously. LONDON MENDICANCY. This mendicant spirit, like a leprosy, Eats out the social heart, all life doth sap. Weak Charity, through every human hap Of weal or woe, as midwife must be nigh, Nurse, doctor, teacher, preacher, by and by Too undertaker, and in coftin clap ; At the last scene as first ; then bait her trap Again, and those still bury bodily She killed in spirit ! Oh, the shame and sin ! Sublimest Duty lays no holy stress On such. Life's claims, ties, children, all things, came Mere waifs and strays, which, unbless'd, cannot bless! No self-denial, forethought, worthy aim : No duty done, therefore no happiness. ON AN EXQUISITE BYGONE FEMALE FACE. Oh, but to think that such a face could pass Clean out of sight, and be for aye forgot ; That men should now say 'tis, and now, "'tis not ! " Nature did in thy make herself surpass ; And herself, drawn at full, as in a glass Perfection viewed in thee, and found no blot ; That thou Perfection's self wast, thy sole spot, And mad'st it doubtful which Perfection was ! Oh, through those eyes, which dull the diamond's ray. What lights of soul, from depths unfathomed, Divine as through diaphanous ether, play ! Sweet lips, which that sweet soul interpreted ! O lavish Nature ! thus to throw away Perfection, and not keep the mould instead ! 214 STOXES FROM THE QUARRY ; MAX. Thou poor, conceited Ape, in rags of pride ! A little lower than the angels, eh ! Far less above Gorilla than thee they, Thou ^rwaw-tail'd! Thy "proud-flesh " heart goes wide O' what thou art, and, self from self to hide, In star-fleck'd robe immortal wraps thy clay. And 'fore high heaven fantastic tricks doth play, Trailing it i' the mire, with the stride And strut o' a peacock ! Pardon if I quote " The wish is father to the thought," the thought " Still-born ; " or, if live-bom, from birth doth dote : Too close in likeness to the parents wrought ! 'Tis honest Madam's issue, and no poet Hath any Jove in golden shower here caught ! (140) DE PROFUXDIS. O God ! that I could cast this flesh aside, Like a moth-eaten garment, and renew My spirit, feel at heart the quickening dew Of Faith undoubting — once more at my side Hope, prompt to show (himself the offered guide) The path that leads the labjTinth sure through ; Adventurous guide ! too confident, and too, Too sanguine for a world where far and wide Run Error's cross-roads ! And, oh worst of all ! When Faith halts, and Hope lags towards the end, False and deluding voices to us call, This way and that, and on wild errands send. While, to make the way more equivocal. Doubt, in disguise, to show it doth pretend ! OUR PUBLIC MOXUMEXTS TO XELSOX, HAVE- LOCK, ETC., AXD OUR ART JOBBERY. O noble souls ! whose grand lives bum away Like holy incense on the altar laid Of God and Fatherland ; by fire conveyed Direct from heaven lit, such as did play On Abel's offering, and God's grace convey ; Hard were your lot by Fame herself betrayed, Thus " hung in chains " and " Guys " for ever made ; The fame Life gained Death helping to bewray ! Can we not then commemorate in stone Or bronze as nobly as we do the deed ; Or are we great in act and deed alone. And two such crops the same soil cannot breed? Not so ! immortal Greece in both kinds shone ; But Art and Life with her one breast did feed ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 2V TO Oh thou dost dazzle me ! thine eyes my eyes, And through eyes thy soul my soul dominates. Through mere degrees and intermediates To top o' spring (as sea to moon) I rise ; Love urging set of tide with all his sighs ! Poor soul ! thou flutterest, like the dove that males, Caught with the lures and captured with the baits Set in those heart-traps with such sweet disguise ! Ee merciful, and let thy loveliness Kill, like an opiate, while we dream of bliss, And to our hearts th' executioner press ; One mortal wound give with immortal kiss ! Let Pity in those sweet eyes acquiesce With Love, by gentlest sentence to dismiss ! CULTURE. Thy reason nourish ; let the diet be Solid, yet generous, less words than things ; Facts more than speculation, which oft brings Earth's mists about it, leaving thee as he Who grasped a cloud and thought it Deitie. (141) Feed thy imagination ; 'tis Man's wings ; And from its rainbow pinions quickening flings Dew of the spirit ; keeping Life fresh and free. Not servile, flat, mechanic. Let their beat Be balanced, else they will not rise, with airs From heaven fan, and lift thee off thy feet Last, but not least, to give thee nobler cares, To Life its fullest light, most central heat. Love ! which Man's life exalts, upholds, repairs ! TO A RAY OF LIGHT. (142) O thou bright messenger of light, to whose Swift motion winged speed is but snail' s-pace. And lightning lags, and thought, which else the race Might win, doth in a labyrinth confuse Itself, and in so boundless prospect lose ; Since thou didst leave thy wondrous starting-place Five hundred courses hath the sun through space Accomplish'd, surely then thou bring'st strange news! That wondrous orb which sped thee on thy way May be meanwhile burnt out, lost to the sky, Or changed, like Sirius, from Mars' red ray To settled light of gracious augury ! 'Twixt leaving and arriving Nations may Have run their course, nay, Earth's own end draw nigh ! 2i6 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE "TICHBORNE" TRIAL. Credulity, thy maw is wondrous wide ! The Boa-constrictor nothing is to thee ; He may be gorged, but thou canst never be. Could'st thou throw up the messes rank supplied By that huge knave-fool World to stuff thy hide, Thou to thy vomit would'st return, and see The same huge ' ' cram " in kind both and degree. Yet swallow, as if for the first time tried. Thou bloated monster ! Surely for one meal That (in fat) Falstaff " Claimant " might suffice ! Thou with him as Boas with their "gorge " didst deal } Didst slaver him all o'er, lick into nice Presentable shape, so down thy maw to steal ; Yet gap'st for more, with open mouth and eyes ! THE STARS. Oh, when I gaze on that transcendent sight. Whose beauty ravishes and grandeur awes, W' hose mystery confounds in end and cause. Between which, as between th' opposed might Of th' upper and nether millstones, Self is quite To atoms ground ; my petty life doth pause, And, as constrained by a Pov^er which draws Mysteriously, in Being's Whole takes flight ! Yes ! gently, yet resistlessly as stream (With ocean meeting) merges in the tide, I lose my " Self : " recalled from that grand dream, I think on graves, and all that we would hide : I crawl again ; and basest creatures seem To trail with slime of Earth o'er all Man's pride ! OLD AGE. Oh, here we enter on the Desert ; here The Great Saharas of the Heart, sad, dry, Waste, springless, loveless, blank before us lie ! Sad prospect ! sad at distance, most sad near ! W^e enter it alone in soul, whate'er Of love abideth with us outwardly (Outward itself too oft, lip-service, eye- Observance), losing still ourselves, with Fear, 111 guide in evil place ! Few springs are there, Round which some stray I^orget-me-nots may grow, Which Memory plucks, and fain would with her bear; But they too fade. Death breathes on them — they go. And we go too. Fear stumbles o'er Despair ; And Death alone remains the way to show I OR, MOODS OF MIND. 217 THE UNIVERSE. All changes (changed 7t//«7f changing), Greatest, Least. We Men, we measure by our timed state The spans of the All-Being without date, And Nature's book with Man have frontispieced. This Self-evolving Whole, never increased Nor lessened by one atom, doth create In circle, endless and reciprocate, Ne'er ending, aye-beginning, nought surceased. All changed, yet but in mode : Means mating ends, The Grandest is wrought as the Easiest. As through its safety-valve an engine sends Excess, an Etna's burst relieves Earth's breast; And a small change of axis, as Earth wends, Will change her seasons, times, and all the rest. THE GRIEF APART. Oh if such 'mid our dear ones sorrow be, Where all hearts join to lighten common woe, AH tears make up one sympathetic flow. And hearts are eased when tongues can set them free, (As prisoners, who glimpse of heaven see Through their cell-v.-indows, sense of freedom know, Suggestion supplementing little show), And loves drawn closer gain in some degree ; — If this be so, what then the grief that lies Coiled like a viper round the secret heart. Which stings within, and smothers up its cries. Gulps its " hysterica passio " down, adds smart To smart, in inarticulate anguish dies, Pressing the wound, and driving home the dart ! MUSIC IN EXCELSIS. Has it then ceased ? So soft the melody Dies out, that it and Silence scarcely part Their function ; nor can nice-apportioning art The interval debateable (like sky And water meeting) clearly certify. This is the spell of Music ; echoes start To being at its call, and in the heart The stirred chords vibrate on, long ere they die. That is the wondrous-subtle instrument. Of countless stop and string, and compass wide. On which she playeth to her full intent ; With Poesy, rapt listener, at her side ! Yes ! sweet consoling angel, heaven-sent, Down its true diapason she doth glide ! 2i8 STONES FJWM THE QUARRY; GERMANY AND "ARMED PEACE." (143) Thou canst not serve two masters, Germany ! Would'st thou the bodies rule, or minds of men? Wield Sword, or sceptre spiritual, Pen ? Wear Mars's or Minerva's panoply ? The first will crush thee with its weight ; belie Its specious, thy true promise ; alien To thy grand Past and Calling : now as then The brain of Europe, th' intellectual eye O' the World ! From thy so great conceptive brain Thought leap'd, a modem Pallas, to new birth ! To that true weapon cleave (no mortal brand !), Thy own Ithuriel-spear to probe the Earth And transfix Error. Thy heart's median vein Oh drain not thus, lest thy great Brain have dearth ! If all the members suffer in degree, If all and several with the belly grow. How much more with the brain, whence come and go Imperial messengers, to bind and free ; The seat of Government. The eye to see, The ear to hear, the hand to deal the blow, The feet like winged Mercury, or slow As creeping tortoise, — paralysed all be. That not supreme ! The hypocrite, the mask Of \\ ar ; from under which he cries "Peace, peace !" And stabs poor Peace bent on her blessed task. Worse Tartuffe of the Sword ! sucking at ease The Nations' lifeblood ; who, with blade by flask, "God send I need thee not," for strife seeks pleas ! MEMORIES. The sweet-sad thoughts of bygone happy days Steal o'er me ; bygone voices, laughter sweet. Gone, like their echoes, never more to gi-eet The ear or thrill the heart : as, through soft haze Of sweet May-twilight, in still lonesome ways, P'aint evening-chimes, all-unexpected, meet The ear, from distance into distance fleet, And thrill our heartstrings, as some stray air sways yEolian chords ! As thiough some magic hall In memory we wander through the Past ; With awe we tread, for solemn echoes wall And roof return, lights, shadows solemn cast : W'ith music solemn-sweet ; as at the last Sad riles some Minster-anthem's dying fall I \ OK, MOODS OF MIND. 219 THE ASHANTI WAR. When our liigh-civilised Minerva, cased In proof of harness, brain-wrought panoply, Demanding Science of both hand and eye, Brute force with art and rare device replaced, And warlike crest with skill, the serpent, graced,(l44) Armed cap-d-pie, ^^•ilh thunders of the sky, With 'the Bellona rude of savagery In contact comes, the naked goddess placed At sore odds is. Yet, certes, she shows well In the true raw material of " Man," Although her deeds no " sacer vates " tell ! Betwixt the two no bridge the gulf can span : Civilitie must Savagerie still quell In savage sort, if but to prove she can ! (145) TINTERN ABBEY AND THE WYE. Thy waters, as before Man named them, flow ; Thy hills, as erst, put on their full-dress suits Of leafy June ; thy birds their woodland flutes Pipe more sedately, and their loves forego. And thoughtful o'er their procreant cradles grow. Thy Abbey, where with ruin Time disputes, And beauty reconciles, and awe salutes, Blends with and like great Nature's work doth show. And so it is : sermons are in those stones : Time preaches with more than Man's eloquence ! The Spirit that dwelt here its cradle owns, Hallows and haunts : Religion spread from hence Her fair Humanities o'erawing thrones, And giving daily Life its reverence ! MUSIC. All instruments of stop, breath, touch, wire, string, Even that Colossus musical of sound, In whose vast lungs th' imprisoned winds are bound To suit and service, and like angels sing, (146) Or with pent strengths, in basses thundering Hearing o'erawe ; all these do but expound The inward harmony, too grand, profound For such confine and outward fashioning. Oh what a concert, without audience, Within that shrine of Music, his own mind, Mozart performed, when with his finer sense He heard all instruments as one combined : (147) Not this or that, in varying excellence, But One divinest, in degree and kind ! 220 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE TRAGIC AND HIGH-PASSIONED BUSKIN. They lead more lives than one, who on the stage Play many parts, and spend their heart and brain On proxied sorrow and vicarious pain : Who doubly bear, with Lear, madness and age. Or, with distraught Othello, love and rage ; Who muttering, crazed, " Out, damned spot ! " sustain The load of crime, or poor Ophelia's bane, Or with " To be or not to be " war wage ! With these, that Life upon a stage more real, With many parts too, many hard to play Before stern critics, through its woe and weal. The feign'd and real often in one day. Life's light thus burning at both ends must sweal And flare, and in its own heat waste away ! LIFE-TRAINING. An anvil make thy heart : ring back the blows Reduplicate of Fortune : who would test. Of all good metal make the most and best ; With her hard hits and haps, she beats out close And tempers fine (as Vulcan did, with those His Cyclops, Mars' armour and proud crest), True proof of harness, for Life's nobler quest, 'Gainst inward treacheries and outward foes. If thou hast not been passed thus through the fire, Beaten and buffeted, and at white heat Of suffering wrought to Better and to Higher, Thou wilt not bear the shock, the trial meet ; Like unannealed glass, thy weak desire. Cooling too quick, shall flaw — like water fleet ! GENIUS. This will the rainbow, ere it from the sky Fades off, spread on his palette, and suffuse His landscape with its iridescent hues ; That with some form divine fill heart and eye. Another stocks and stones will vivify ; Or on true lawful marriages of Use And Beauty call down blessings from the Muse ; Or give to Fictions more reality Than flesh and blood. Such, Genius, is thy spell ! True Proteus ! thou all forms as thine canst take. The deeds of one another's words shall tell ; Translate in colours ; monumental make In marble ; act them on the stage as well As done ; or Music grandly with them wake. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 221 A CHRISTMAS WAIL, NOT CAROL : THE BELLS THAT RANG IN RING OUT. (148) O mournful sound ! more dreary than the bell (Mere minor key to this !) whose iron tongue Tells us our best-belov'd have just among The lost been numbered ! Thou art the true knell ! Thou mak'st my heart even to bursting swell 1 O fatal summons ! dreaded death-bell rung O'er all of best and holiest said and sung By Prophet, Poet, Saint, in oracle. In lay- or holy-writ ! Wrap, poor lost soul, Despair around thee like a winding-sheet ; Be darkened, Nature, and eclipsed roll, Thou Sun ! for chilled is that greater heat, Darkened that greater light of this great whole ; That blessed Faith is dead and obsolete ! LIBERATED ROME— A SUNSET VIEW FROM THE HEIGHTS. The City seems, as in a furnace set. All at red heat, in the fierce sunset-glow ; The dying fires of day like embers show. Burnt through and through. Darkness and Light, as yet At odds, as o'er some smouldering city met Opposing powers, pause ; the waters flow With molten gold and crimson ; while, below. The City-spaces, as if cooling, get Deep lurid umberings. Domes, roofs, towers, heights, Redden awhile, then darken into shade. 'Tis a grand furnace ! and, in Fancy's flights, Rome through it passed, Rome unclean and decayed, A vessel purified for Freedom's rights. By her great moulding hands may be remade ! PERFECTION. O Beautiful ! transcending mortal thought And Man's capacity ! Though Hope and Youth, Each other fooling, yet untaught by Truth, Dream thy bright shape Protean may be caught, And within brief confine of time be brought. Divine Perfection, thou thyself in sooth Show'st, Iris-like, touched as with heavenly ruth, Bright through poor Mortals' tears, through which, when sought With close embrace, thou fadest ! Out, alas ! Like mock'd Ixion's cloud Junonian, Thou from our yearning hearts and grasp dost pass, Too beautiful for Earth, not made for Man ! Yet looking back with ruth ; for thy love was And is the soul of all he does and can ! 222 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE STARS. O ye bright orbs ! how beautiful ye are In limpid light, pure diamonds of the sky, Eternal jewels, gems of the Most High, In your grand sapphire-setting ! Near and far ; Some with self-splendour, more particular. Shine on the front of Distance ; some, more nigh, In radiant fellowship keep company ; Or gleam, as from deep azure caverns spar. (149) Ye raise yet baffle wonder ! How my soul Yearns to unlock your secrets ! What lives there ? How ? with what finer senses, loftier goal ? Existences with which ours but compare As the first upward step in the great Whole, Where God im-beings Himself everywhere ! (150) TO , COXVALESCIXG. Kind Sleep hath shaken from his downy wings Balmy Lethcean dews o'er thy dear head, Lulled thee with fanning pinions, whispered Sweet lullabies ; with th' opiates he brings Honey'd Thought's gall, ta'en out Pain's waspish stings. Not sucking, vampire-like, thy lifeblood, fed Thereon, but all thy troubles ; which are fled W^ith those beyond the Flood, memorial things. Sleep on ! Should Death, who threatened thee erewhile. Returning, this deep sleep mistake for his Which knows no waking, of thy sweet mouth's smile Enamoured, he would stoop to kill and kiss ! But find (so close the imitation is) That Sleep can even Death himself beguile ! FALSE PRIDE OF INTELLECT. Thou dost not " write for bread," forsooth ! Thy Muse Must feed on manna direct from the sky; On Temple-shewbread ! the World standing by To pick the crambs up, schooled not to abuse The privilege to any vulgar use. Thou, raised above our poor Humanity, A halo round thy head hast, that none nigh Thy presence come who homage would refuse ! Go ! the Muse scorns thy self-idolatrie. Go ! knead thy daily bread with sweat of hand Or brain ; and if the leaven bitter be, The bread will all the better lise and stand. 'Tis sacramental if God's hand thou see ; Daily Communion-bread, each day's demand ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 223 HUMILIATING ASPECT OF OLD AGE. The World doth leave the greatest still behind. Old age (Man's second childhood) after it Doth toil, but ever with arrears of wit, Shortcoming alway ; even as the mind Of his first Childhood leading-strings confined In rear of eldership ; schooled bit by bit, Precept on precept, line on line, to fit And piece its knowledge. But Old Age doth find ^/dearning harder still ! 'Tis a harsh school, To put our pride of Knowledge off, as 'twere A quaint, old garment, which men ridicule ; Gone out of fashion, worn out, or threadbare ; The while, with gloss of novelty, some fool In borrowed feathers stmts, and makes compare. CUPID AND PLUTUS. Poor Love ! thou wilt be bankrupted ere long ! Sighs, kisses, billets-doux, bow, a-illadcs, all Thy stock in trade (if such things we may call By name so vulgar), not worth an old song ! Thy imaged Self, too ! melted down (worst wrong !) In earthly fires, not heats ethereal Like thine, into a frying-pan, that shall Sweet-breads, not sweet-hearts, fry (Imse use !) among Things mere-mechanic. O poor Love ! thou art No match for Plutus ; thou dost keep thy " books," Like billets-doux, mere matters of the heart ; Writ'st not thy bad debts off; discountest looks And promises to pay " at sight." Ye start Not even ; thine the baits, but his the hooks ! TO . Methinks I see, when gazing in thine eye, As through a telescope some beauteous star, Else only guessed at vaguely from afar, Thy very soul shining perspectively Through that long vista as of purest sky ! Through its blue depths, which clear as crystal are. Thy soul shines forth withouten let or bar, As through thy soul God's light. Truth, we descry. If from a space-lost star, far Halcyon, A ray of light five hundred years doth take To reach this Earth, by wliat comparison Shall we that ray, which from thy soul doth make Its way to mine, then measure ? There is none : CyGod, 'tis measurable fy God alone ! 224 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE LIGHTS OF THE WORLD. 'Tis well that some (great Souls) should stand aside, From the dull World apart, like mountains grand. The heights of God, o'erlooking all the land ; Above all intervenients, which hide The view of lesser men, and swell their pride ; — Heights which rebuke its littleness, and stand In light and glory, glowing like the brand Of Truth, passed on high overhead, while wide O'er all else darkness lies ; — Heights first to take The dawn, and last to lose the afterglow ; Up which the foremost spirits, who ofT shake The dust of Custom to the Winds that blow Like God's own breath, and the tall cedars break, Climb in their strength, God's hidden things to know ! TO A NOBLE FRIEND. O Friend ! with whom one wound makes two hearts bleed; So full o' the milk of human kindness, which, Enriching others, maketh thee most rich ; E'en as a fount which many sources feed. Turns many a mill, yet bateth not of speed, Nor suffers decrement, like the dull ditch That stagnates in itself. If Fame no niche Reserve for thee, thy name " writ large " we read In a diviner Scroll ! Methinks thou hast By that sublime arithmetic of Love, " Division and Subtraction," so Self cast Aside, that Self now can thee nothing move. By thy "addition" (while thou, than thou wast, No less art), I am greater, yet less prove ! TO . No "Patience on a tomb" wert thou, but Pain, Patience-transfigured, through that agony. The sublime proxy of Humanity, Whose greater did thy less exalt, constrain, And made thee suffer as if loss were gain ! As if some angel, missioned from the sky, Had proffered thee the cup, as erst to thy Divine Exemplar, thou didst nought complain. But drank'st, as saying grace ! They who stood near, And saw thee, through llim, conquer Death and Time, Might, on ihv part, have said— O Shape of fear, " Where is thy sting ? " when thy meek eye grew dim ! But that he proxy-wounds through one so dear, For having, through that Proxy, conquered liim ! OK, MOOn.S Of M/XD. 225 OLD AGE. What parasitic growths upon thee wait, Poor fungus'd Age ! thou ruin time-toned-down And ivied o'er with things which have outgrown Their needs and uses ; — ideas out of date, Old books, slow methods, antiquated hate And love ; quaint prejudices, all things known Before the Flood, and in that Noah's-ark shown. Museum, curiosity-shop, thy pate ! Thou'rt a mere dust-heap of the wastes of Time ; Old odds and ends, cobwebs, grubs, waifs and strays : He jogs not now like dullards' measured rime. The Wheels of Change whirl the World on its ways As mad as Phaeton, if less sublime ; And fling thee off amid its whirr and blaze. TO THE DEPARTED : AN ANSWER. How should I write that which I scarce can think ? Words which, if I could utter them, would break Asunder, and no sense or meaning make ; Like types unset, mere letters without link. Not words of grace ; to hear which was to drink In bliss, and all things bless for their dear sake ! Sweet jangled chimes, which music no more wake. But make with thought thereof the sad heart sink ! Gone, gone ! a Name, in perishable stone. And in a few sad yearning hearts, sums thee, Whose sum of love eked all from its full own. O dread Abyss ! o'er whose dark brink I see The immeasurable void of the Unknown, That void where thou art noi : All-void to me I TO MY NOBLE FRIEND, MAJOR G. P. THOMAS. O Friend ! methinks thou would'st the life to come O'erleap, as 'twere a ditch, in boyish play. At Duty's call sublime ; though grim array Of deaths in many shapes matle up a sum Of terrors, which might strike the bravest dumb. O noble Spirit ! if Death by the way And Honour meeting, one should bid thee stay, The other go, thou would'st choose martyrdom, Nor think twice o' it ! Ay, tho' in the scale Wife, children, fortune, all joys of man's state, That make the one incline, and still prevail. The other mount up light ; thou adverse Fate Would'st challenge at all odds, nor ever quail. But i' the other leap, sole counterweight ! 226 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE WORN-OUT ORGAN-GRINDER. Tied to his organ till it grows a rack, On which in spirit if in body not Still stretched, he hourly curses his hard lot, Of Music's dreary treadmill the worn hack ; He grinds old tunes with dull mechanic knack. Whose sure returns of weariness besot, His memory with monotonousness blot, And blank his brain with endless click and clack. Poor wretch ! The iron hath eat into his soul ; His corner-drawn-down mouth, lack-lustre eye, Tell at what cost he earns his sorry dole. They of his merry waltz the call belie, To him ' a dance of death ' to no far goal. He dreams of home ; yearns for one in the sky. TRUTH SUPREME. 1 love not Fiction, save as the apt dress Of Truth ; her outward having, complement ; To set forth, not to hide her high intent ; If other, in her very nakedness Td have her, to my heart of hearts would press ; Take her 'for better or for worse,' as sent By Heaven, and for Man by Heaven meant, His guide divine, to raise him and to bless. Off, off, ye lendings, then ! Come, then, my bride Clothed all in purity, as never was The Antique Venus, by that sanctified ; j Through sin and sorrow still unsullied pass ! J] And make my soul a mirror clear, its pride To show thee as thou «;■/, in its true glass ! BELIEF. Without his faith in God, the Life to come, That crowns his brow, and writes there — " Infinite I " Mosting his most, besting his best delight ; Articulate as with speech of gods (not dumb Like brute), the lispings of a nobler home ; Oh, what were Man ! What, falling from that height. But a crushed reptile, wriggling out of sight In some earth-hole, to blind Fate to succumb? C)h, what his lAkthcn ? Death "writ large;" the trail Of the vile earthworm over all ! Not then A " Hallelujah Chorus," but the " scale " Resolved into unmeaning "notes" again ! 'Twere " Paradise " then "Lost "—an idler tale " Regained ;'' mere flourish of a glozing pen. OE, MOODS OF MIND. ill MY POETRY. My Muse is, sooth, no dainty Ariel-thing, Gay creature of the element ; all sheen. And shift, and glitter, sun and shower between. An Iris, off and on, aye on the wing. Of earth; though yet not earthy, she hath sting And gall if need be, and her fits of spleen ; With head on hand, she ponders what Hath Been And Shall-be, as who hath heard deathbells ring ! She trails no courtly skirts, but tucks her robes, As who in highways and in byways goes ; Her sleeves too. Human Nature's sores to probe, In this great Hospital of many woes. Yet can she throw her arms ai"ound the globe, And answer every pulse with her large throes. She is not beautiful ; for sorrow o'er Her face hath passed, and writ " Mortality." Through the long vista of her deep sad eye. Like light from out a well, for evermore Her soul shines, as Tnith shone in one before ! Tears hath she too ; precious, shed inwardly. Stored i' the heart's true lachrymatory. Tears shed by love, more prized than miser's store, Tears both of grief and joy. Wrinkles she has. Those furrows in which Wisdom sows her seed ; And that which for simplicity doth pass She holds for highest wisdom and God-speed. A light is on her brow ; she hath some grace, (Yet not as of herself), though more she need. SLEEP AND DEATH. How fearless and confidingly to sleep We trust ourselves ! E'en as the nestling child On the dear Mother-bosom lulled, beguiled Of all its fleeting cares, we in that deep Oblivion of self our Being steep. Gently as, when his last the sun hath smiled, The flower folds its silent life up, wiled Away we Life's cffisural pauses keep ! What if Death take Sleep's proxied shape, and make His poppies mortal with Lethaean dose ; Turn bed to bier, cause winding-sheet to take The place of that which promised but repose ! One portal serves ! if ne'er again to wake. Death were but Sleep, Sleep Death the way but shuws ! y 2 228 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; :' THE WORKS OF GOD. Oh, when I gaze up there and realise The awful majesty, the loveliness Of worlds on worlds that through Space throng and press, And keep their times and places in the skies Even to a minute ! so that Man applies His petty measures to them with no less Of confidence than he doth eat and dress, And sleep withal, in wonder wonder dies ! J There rolls the Moon, lending her borrowed light, \ No usurer ! athwart her gleams the Sun, Nature's great Lamp, held to the Infinite ! Detached she seems, and by comparison (151) Solid, from neighbourhood to mortal sight : In gravitation's sling whirled like a stone ! mingled thought of ecstasy and fear ! 1 tremble while 1 gaze ! awe, wonder, dread (Like three strands in th' invisible magic thread Which draws yon orb in its ordained sphere, As gently yet resistlessly as here Love draws heart unto heart, unconscious led), Possess me merely ; all sense else is fled, As dreams on sudden waking disappear. We view that glorious lamp of our Earth-night, And the star-host, with unconcerning eyes, As if but glow-worms of the sky ; make light Of marvels, and, like children, feel surprise At trifles ; never think how all works right. Or why yon Moon should not crash from the skies ! TO . Thou art not beautiful ; no Venus thou : No poet in the tangles of thy hair Would twine, to set off his fair with thy fair, The sham pearls of his rime, nor crown thy brow With stars, and down to his Urania bow. Yet round thee is a halo, as it were An emanation of thy virtue rare. Which all hearts feel, unconscious all allow. No haughty curl of lip, no flash of eye. No step Junonian ; but sweetest smile. Such as the lips of Truth might be known by. Whose mirror thy sweet face is, without guile ; Eyes like the wells where she is said to lie. In whose clear depths thy soul is seen the while. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 229 PLEASURE-HUNTERS. Ye butterflies ! for ever on the wing, That flutter up and down, now here, now there, Stern Time shall brush ye off into the glare Of fierce consuming truth, and to nought bring ; Like moths, when housewives in the fire fling Moth-eaten finery ! your idol fair, This " Pleasure," her own votaries will not spare. But at last, " like snake i' the bosom," sting. Ye sweat hard after her, yet seldom see More than her disappearing skirts, the trail Of disappointment or satietie. While in Toil's strong embrace, ere they grow stale, She yields her virgin-charms up, proud as he Of vigorous issue, like their parents, hale ! ELIXIR VIT^. I filled the cup of Life with costly wine, From grapes of finest growth, vintage most rare, That but few years in full perfection bear ; And deep I drank — the flavour seemed so fine, That wine of youth ! Another, more divine, More quintessential and beyond compare, I mingled with it, till as one they were, And drank it off : that draught, O Love, was thine ! With heart and brain on fire, the rosy hours Danced to sphere-music, and, as Iris bright, Hope rainbow'd heaven, and strewed the earth with flowers. O cup intoxicating of delight, Nectar of the Gods ! this life of ours E'en in your dregs tastes something exquisite ! Oh, could I fill that cup again with those Pure grapes of God, that vine of Paradise, Which, thence transplanted, 'neath unkindly skies, Ne'er ripens to perfection ; doomed to lose Some flavours too divine, some heavenlier glows ; 1 would in measure more, and with more wise Discretion, as of things beyond all price. Drink more to God, and less to Man, who knows Too late the precious waste ! Yet so divine The goblet, that, once at our lips, we drain It at a draught— 'tis Nectar, not mere wine ! 'Twere more than Human Nature to refrain ; For, drinking, and touched to such issues fine. We seem immortal birthrights to regain. 230 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; EARLY SPRING. The miglity winds are stining, like the breath Of God ; the big trees shake themselves out free, And fling their arms abroad and laugh in glee. Nature is weaving herself a new wreath ; New garments out of old ; Life out of Death ! The willow trails its tresses fair to see, Soft as a Naiad's hair ! O'erhead, clouds flee On their glad missions ; waters stir beneath. The birds are busy with bill, throat, and wing, With stress of life— joy that will not be dumb. And Happiness, like some glad new-bom thing, In heart of man and beast doth go and come, Ne'er resting ; while through all a voice doth ring, As if God spake, " Amen'd " with hfe's great hum. THE FOUNTAIN-VASE. How Nature, even when by Art constrained, Asserts her will and freedom in one way Or other, and makes sport of man who'd lay His hands upon her ! Lo, like diamonds rained From crystal vase, therein no more contained. She flings her trammels off in glittering spray ; Then comes the wind, and tosses it in play Like Indian jugglers' balls, as he disdained The formal thing. When /Eolus hath done His fit of spleen, she waves the vase's side Like moulded crystal flickering in the sun, And curves its lip with beauty's curve of pride ; Then weaves in finest wicker-work anon. Oh cleave to her then; by her still abide ! iMOORE'S SENTIMENTAL, "BOUDOIR" VEIN.(i52) 'Tis like a nosegay, which, the while we smell, Intoxicates the one sense with perfume. While dazzling with all Flora's rainbow-bloom ; Yet, small abidance is of either spell : Mainly mere charm of sense. And, sooth, 'tis well That such things pass ; for fleeting is their doom, Mere outward flourish. And but little room The heart for such spares where its Holies dwell. The hand of Labour crumples up such flowers. Crushes these butterflies with merest touch. They flutter round the mind's more masculine powers Like moths round a strong flame, and fare as such. Not amid Lotus-eaters, fairy bowers, Throbs the great heart-beat, which stirs long and much. OR, A/OODS OF MIND. 231 THE SONNET. TO , A CAVILLER. The sonnet, eh ! Thou tiirnest up thy nose At sonnets ; yet, when thou hast had thy fling, I'd say, that better is a lesser thing Well done than greater ill : great soul that goes In small, than what no great in greatness knows. Bee that stings, yet can sweets from bitters wring, Better than hornet, which can only sting ; Or drone, who honey steals, and slanders thos He, lazy, robs. The fable says : of old, A sorcerer, pitying a cat-scared mouse. Transformed it to a cat ; yet, not more bold, A dog-scared cat ; turned dog, a tiger cows. So would thy soul its littleness unfold In all, whatever body were its house. SLEEP. O blessed Sleep ! Thou takest off the crown From regal brows, with all its gilded cares, And set'st it on Ambition's head, with airs That seem from heaven, and smoothest Fortune's frown. Thou shakest from thy poppies blessings down, Dew of the Spirit, which our life repairs ; And calm'st the fevered pulse that brings grey hairs ; The heart that pants, like race-horse, for renown. And yet, O Sleep, an awe and mystery Surround thee. 'Tis as thou a mask didst bear, Lest, so like Death, thy look should terrify. And dread of endless sleep the semblance scare. What if beneath the mask that other lie, And Sleep, himself o'ersleeping, but Death were? Contrarious Sleep ! Thou takest away all, Yet bringest all, increasing loss with store. As one who maketh fast and barreth door. And, stealthy, glides away with hushed footfall. Thou dost the door of spe2ch shut, and install Dumb Silence sentry there ; drawest down o'er The windows, where th' inquisitive thoughts explore All things, the blinds ; and lock'st the echo-hall, The whispering-gallery o' the ear. Weird Sleep ! Image of Death ! yet making Death new lease Of Life, and Death himself at bay to keep. Brief death, in which of life and death we cease Alike to think ; trance wonderful and deep, Whose waking as a resurrection is ! 232 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; FUGIT HORA. Oh, take thy passing hour at its best, Inhale its perfume, revel in its sweets, Store it for heart and memory, ere fleets The exquisite aroma, the first zest. Dew on the flower, freshness of the breast. Strike while the iron's hot ; ere Life's first heats And holy ardours codl ; ere its deceits And frauds chill nobler purpose and high quest. Love ; love with all thine heart ; pure love of maid ; (But once man in his life can say *' I love ! ") Wife-love ; fast love, on love of children stayed ; And let a noble Life that love approve : Save by thyself thou canst not be betrayed. Nor from thyself removed, save thou remove. TO , THE DEPARTED. Oh, could I see thee once again, and hear Once more thy sweet, low voice "forgiven " say ; Forgiving, ere one for forgiveness pray ; With love angelic washing with a tear Offence away, and leaving the page clear For Penitence to write in his own way The cancelled debt, the forfeit he should pay ; Remission plenary, with all arrear. Oh, cmdd I hear that word ! Oh, how that "could" Sounds like a knell, and on my ear doth grate ! That word unsaid, which ever doth intrude, Still there ; like some dim spectre by the gate We dare not pass, and yet cannot elude ; That word not said in time, for aye too late ! What coals of fire thouheap'st upon that head. That stubborn heart that will not bend but break, All-gentlest, all-forgiving Love ! Oh ache. Oh wound, at which the heart's best blood hath bled, The eyes aye-unavailing tears have shed. Oh two-edged sword, which still dolh overtake ; Oh trenchant blade, that each way wound doth make, Backward and forwaid, as the Angel's dread That drave from Paradise ! One little word, With all-heal in it, and yet left unsaid. Ear most unbless'd which should that word have heard; Tongue scarcely less, which should have uttered. Soft-whispered, since like thunder it hath stirred ; Like lightning scathed, with mild looks from the dead. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 233 MY MUSE— FICTION. My Muse, though as the lily inly-pure (In visible light, like Purity, sole-clad), And modest as the violet in the shade, Is no fine lady, with a look demure. With nice regards and dainty nouriture. She is a child of Nature, and hath had No other midwifery ; content, nay, glad Her procreant throes, self-childed, to endure. As the wild Indian mother by the way. With Nature's couch of leaves or harbourage Of prairie-grass, child-bearing as child's-play. My Muse delivered is, like the first Age ; Girds up her loins, and in her breast doth lay Her issue, Nature-taught from Life's first stage. CHILD-TRAINING BY PERAMBULATORS, ETC.— FACT. (153) O Nature ! art thou grown too proud (I ask In thy own name, that all-sufficing plea) To rear thy children at thy breast and knee In the old fashion, thy true Mother-task ; In sunshine of thy Mother-smile to bask. To crawl, and roll, and stretch themselves as free As the young kittens, with like natural glee ; No limbs straitwaistcoated, on face no mask. Art thou supplanted, that thou dost to Art (111 foster-nurse, mechanic substitute) Their limbs hand over, formalise the heart ; For feet give crutches, with lame minds to suit ; And mechanise their young lives at first start ? Thy voice divine or disobeyed or mute ! TO BE, OR NOT TO BE. Pluck out my heart, and put a something there Which, if not stone already, is in course Of transformation, or to something worse ; Numbed, deadened, yet with sense of things that were! As one on whom Medusa's stony stare Hath fallen, who first feels its working curse. The frost at heart, the beat that loseth force, No more responsive to aught grand or fair. O God ! in merest apprehension 'tis As if the heart's great median vein ran slow With Lethe-like stagnation. All things miss Their grace and glory ; of earth earthy grow : Love, Love equivocates with carnal kiss. From Minster-roofs God's name falls dead below ! 234 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; Poor Insect then, poor brief Ephemeron ! Shivering i' the blast, or basking i' the ray That gilds, as if in mock, his petty day ; Chilled aye with dread how soon it will be gone ! Sipping the cup of Life to reach anon The bitter draught, the honey lipped away. The dregs, the mortal flavour of decay Still uppermost : sting as of scorpion In Pleasure's blandest touch ! Vile masquerade His noblest thoughts— mere actor's buskin'd phrase ; His noblest deeds vainglorious parade Of simpletons, like peacocks, stuffed — with praise ! Better to Pagan Faith to retrograde. See gods on clouds, and Phoebus' chariot blaze. Oh deadly worm i' the bud of Life's sweet rose, Eating the heart all out ! Poor canker-bloom, Whose fleeting loveliness, whose brief perfume. But hide decay, and but embalm mere shows. But cheat the sense, and on the sight impose ! Brief light ! that shows the way but to the tomb, And on its gates the dread inscribed doom, "All hope abandon here, when once we close ! " O ye all-glorious stars ! on whom to gaze Is as a sense of immortality. Having once seen you, must we no more raise Our looks to you, but mournful bend our eye On the "six feet," where all his pride Man lays Aside, and from you turns his face to die ! THE GOLDEN MEAN. He wise is who being rich can be as poor Not poor in spirit, but, with wise desires. No more than genial Nature asks requires ; Who for her unbought grace would love and woo her, Not outward tricks and toys, and gilded lure. She kindles, then, pure virgin ! holy fires ; And temperate loves, not hasty flames inspires ; And bears tme issue, pleasures that endure. Therefore he waves aside the harlotry. The Sirens would enchain him ; stops his ears : No Lotus-eater he ! Humanity Doth call him ; and, so long as toils and tears Are human, on base down he will not lie. Nor bask in Fortune's smiles or Pleasure's leers. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 235 SELF-APPRAISEMENT. Held at arm's-length and not too curiously Surveyed, and with a nicely-focused light, Defects to soften and assist the sight, Self whispers unto Self, well pleased — " 'Tis I ! In sooth, fair module of Humanity ! Statue of gold, almost, if 't be not quite ; No nether parts of clay ; a brow to write ' Let there be light ' on, and light shines — that eye 1 " Now pass we this brave image through the fire. The furnace of affliction : one by one The features melt in dross, and lose the higher Image and superscription stamped thereon. The base alloy base value may acquire, As copper coin to gold — pure gold is none ! LABOUR. Best leaven of "best bread," to make it rise To top o' height, and relish still aright, And satisfy Man's daily appetite ; Which best the craving heart and brain supplies, Best fits for true hand -work, thoughts for the skies. O blessed Toil ! Sole leaven that maketh light The bread of Life, sweet, wholesome, requisite ; Sweat, Sweat best prayer, best offering in God's eyes ! daily work of hand ! for daily use Good "household" bread art thou, and strengthen'st well ; But nobler leaven than in bread for thews And sinews, something as of miracle (Manna and Bread in one), doth God infuse In thoughts oracular, perdurable. THE WIFE'S BIBLE. Tears fill mine eyes, and trembleth so my hand, 1 scarce can raise thee to my lips, bless'd Book, Scarce courage find on thy dear page to look, That mingles all of tenderest and grand That heart of Man can feel, soul understand ! O holy relique ! shrin'd i' th' inmost nook Of my most consecrating heart, rebuke Me not, but with me bear, shaken, unmanned, Like a reed by the wind ! I print one kiss. As at a shrine memorial pilgrims kneel. And for forgiveness pray ; my faith cold is, Which doth thy heat impartitive not feel. Yet shall the altar sacrifice not miss ; Like fire frorti Heaven, my heart shall catch thy zeal ! 236 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; O blessed Book ! thyself all-holiest, And twined with holiest tendrils of the heart, Memorial strings ; which, at this their first start And earthly origin, make manifest The imperfection even of our Best, In ill attune with heavenly counterpart ; But by degrees and through inspired art. With those Divine accord, and like suggest ! O blessed Book ! her spirit breathes from thee, Hfr voice repeats the oracles she loved ; Which, if not holier, tenderer seem to be. Oh, never thence remove or be removed That charm, that spell, or from me or by me, But guard me still, a Talisman approved ! THE STARS AND THE MYSTERY OF BEING. As with unnumbered eyes, from every side, The Heavens look on me, search me through and through ; Those eyes of God, who holds all in His view ! If from those eyes I see my soul could hide, By unseen seen (poor caitiff !) multiplied Beyond, still, from itself 'twould shrink anew. The Mind's eye like the Body's falls blind too ; Thought gropes in outer darkness and goes wide ! Reason, confounded in itself, doth creep Back to its " earth," and throws up (like the mole) Its dust and pride, mock-mountain and mole-heap ; A child's card-house, to represent this Whole ! Some theory (a pebble in the Deep Cast by a babe) to fathom the World's Soul ! DRUM-MAJOR. Thou ! thou, a drum ! thou base comparative, Thou parchment drum-head, thou ; impertinent, Assuming, arrogant, incompetent ! Thou passive sound-case, mere intransitive. For nothing's in thee that doth hear or give A response, nought there conscious, sentient ; One prick o' a pin, and all the breath is sent Out o' thy body ; thou dost cease to live. Now, Mars, strike up the tattoo on iky drum. The Soldier's ear ; Love wake the dreaming bride With soft " reveillies," like the sweet bees' hum. Death, beat thy "Dead March" too, that quells Man's pride, The rattle i' the throat, that strikes him dumb ; Drum o' the ear ! Sham are all thee beside ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 237 "A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT." Write " Poor " upon thy brow, though most would say Thou might'st as well be branded from a jail ; Yet " write it large," that none to read may fail. So shalt thou go untroubled still thy way By knaves and fools, nor stay'd by them nor stay ; Two evils thus escaping which assail Wealth and wealth's vain repute ; names which prevail With fools ; things for which knaves find when they may Proverbial wings ! The wise and good are few ; Best have been poor ; the Best the poorest known ! None envy. Envy, without true self-hue, Takes all, chameleon-like, and spoils her own. Covet not wealth ; but think all wealth can do Is in Hicjacet on a tombstone shown I ROME ANTIQUE. When Rome to pieces fell, her mighty frame And bulk disrupt strewed half the hemisphere : There, lay large limb, leg, arm, benumbed ; and here Hand, foot ; yet mighty even in her name. The head was sick ; the heart, which glowed like flame, And beat with restless pulsings and high cheer Against the ribs o' the World, which pressed too near And cramped its large ambition, went and came As an asthmatic's ! Like a corpse she lay — A spirit then of other origin " Possessed " her ; souls, not bodies, claimed to sway ; The pride that apes humility its sin : And with Christ's sacramental cup did play And juggle ; drunk oft on the wine within ! ROME MEDIEVAL ; POPE AND KING. *' Under which king, Bezonian, speak or die," Of Mortals is fair question ; for whoso Divided fealty would claim or show Must needs election make, and stand thereby. Not so with Popes ; they may serve equally Mammon and God ! Souls disembodied go With a turn o' Peter's keys, but bodies owe Their "Peter's pence," and temporality. Up the tiara- Papal's triple crown Ambition Spiritual climbs ; like Mercury A-tiptoe there, calls Heaven and Earth her own. The while the nether parts, draped scenically In robes Pontifical, are clay all down ; Hands in Men's pockets, on the lips a lie ! 238 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; TO . Dwells Love most on thy lips or in thine eye ? Is he divisible, yet in each part Still all himself? Oh, what then in thy heart Must he not be, in his entirety ; When perdu there, wings folded, he doth lie As in his very nest ; the point o' his dart Turned inwards, and inflicting that sweet smart Which from thine eyes he scatters far and nigh ? If I in Love's arithmetic had skill, W^ith all thy severals and items rare I could Love's inventory more than fill. Such a " sum in addition " I'd prepare. That Love (debtor from creditor) his will Would make, and leave thee all he had to spare. THE BIBLE. Light of the World, and tower of strength to Man ! Sole refuge in a howling Wilderness, Whence Man flees from Despair; and, with blind guess, Nature flings up her mole-casts without plan ! Thyself built on a rock, from thee we scan The End and the Beginning, and possess A clue to the dark Labyrinth, where less Would not suffice than thy all-reaching span Of boundless view ! Two thousand years enshrine Thy hallowed walls, mellowed and rich with Time, And mantled with associations fine, WHiile hearts of Men around thee cling and climb. Thy fall would strew the Earth ; and, crushed, in thine, Man fall to lowest depths from heights sublime ! Oh, if our poor comparatives of grand. Derivatives of Holy and Sublime ; Our ruins, hoary with the frost and rime (154) Of centuries, and haunting all the land With memories ; whose slow decays command Men's wonder ; which to desecrate were crime ; Minster or Abbey, from whose towers Time's chime Rings out the Fleeting ; Man's work, which can stand His test no longer ; — \l such " ruins " be. What will thy fall involve, what awe, what dread ! Where from the wrath to come then shall we flee ? On hearth and altar the fire shall lie dead ; And Man, as at a Devils' Jubilee, Break loose, and Cains their brothers' blood shall shed. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 239 SILENCE. O breathless Silence ! timid as the hare That hears the bay of hounds, and perdu lies In grassy " form," all quivering ears, strained eyes ; "Whom e'en the motion of a cloud in air, Shadow on earth, with sound suggested scare : 'Twixt name and echo thy brief being dies (O Fearful- Innocent ! so Guilt, called, flies !) Thou hast no voice to pray, no ear for prayer ! Yet, if speech be to thy disparagement. How, save by silence, pay thee thy just due ! By true Love's silence, which gives sweet'st consent ? The heart's " full stop," Death near, so silent too? The Poet's silent, breathless ravishment ? Or, gazing up to Heaven, feel God in you ? SELF-CONTROL. Let not thy passions, like wild horses, bear Thee headlong, like another Phaeton, From Reason's path of light, but keep thou on Her ordered Zodiac ; and start with fair Prefigurement of joys which lasting are, From her wise balance-sign ; so, well begun. Thy course shall make more fair comparison. Light, like the sun; not, like a comet, flare. Then shalt thou towards th' horizon mellow sink, And Time, who writes in cypher on Man's face, And characters him in look, frown, and wink, And moody mouth, much set forth in small space. Shall write thee fair ; no scrabbled form in ink On parchment old, but age thy youth retrace ! LUTHER. To few is it vouchsafed to wield The Word, And cut asunder with it, as it were A two-edged sword, the Past and Present ; bear It as a panoply of proof, and stirred With holy ardours, by hosts undeterred. Challenge all odds. As thunder in the air. It flashes, lightens, clears the atmosphere, And, when 'tis gone, the " still small voice is heard!" Such didst thou make it, thou great rough-hewn soul. Thou rock, which God-struck, gave forth the sweet spring Of Life, whose Rowings nothing could controul. Thy Word was as the stone in David's sling, And in the dust made Rome's Goliah roll. And gave to Human Thought freedom of wing. 240 STONES FROM THE QUARRY : SPHERE-MUSIC. The Music of the Spheres ; that is the grand ; That music of the eye, the star-scored sky : Or, rather, Music comprehensively, Itself and absolute ; which Angels stand Entranced at ; music beyond Man's command. Yet some with finer sense have (ear and eye As interchangeable) heard seeingly. And the World's diapason well-nigh spanned. Such was our Herschell when, rapt into Space, He watched the shining hosts of heaven pass, (iS5) And God's own outline in Creation's glass By aid of those grand lights, o'er-awed, could trace ! And heard the planets in their orbits, as They quiring went, exalt their Maker's praise ! A MUSE OF THE "JUST MILIEU." As he so nobly of his earthly Love Once wrote, whom, like a pearl on dung-heap thrown, (156) The World let perish, as none of its own, Die like a dog ! — " Did I not more approve Honour than Love, thou could'st not in me move Love half so much ! " So would the Muse look down (My heavenly bride\ on all my efforts frown, Were her love shared, still more aught set above! Used I her inspirations so divine Like vulgar breaths, to blow an earthlier fire. She'd strike me dumb in scorn, thereof in sign. Yet is the labourer worthy of his hire ; Her wages first, appreciation fine ; And "daily Bread," by that "raised " and made higher I COLONEL LOVELACE. (156) O noble Spirit ! with that master-key Of " Honour, Honour bright," we can unlock Thy true heart's every ward : let P'ortune knock In whatsoever ginse, enter can she W^ithout that " pass " not, nor that keeper fee ! Nay ! thou dost hold Love himself (though it shock His pride, who doth at oaths and fealty mock) State-prisoner, serving yet with bended Icnee, .Safe under that true lock ! Like the sweet chime And holy from some skyward Minster-tower, The same aye through all chance and change of Time, The shifting scenes and actors of the hour. Thou heard'st it, like a voice from Heaven sublime, To Duty call thee from Love's silken bower ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 241 LOVELACE AGAIN. Oh, that of such a heart Fortune should make Her tennis-ball, to knock it to and fro In her rude game of chance, now high, now low ; Catch it at the rebound, with nought to break The fall ; and when best aimed still cause to take The bias, and deliver foul her blow ; And when she's got thee down to keep thee so. Because for Honour more than for her sake Thou took'st the odds ! Base Arbitress is she ; False balances she hath, uses false weights. Because with honey of their Hybla bee The Muses reared, and sweetened so thy Fates, She took thy best at worst, and wrangled with thee For basest things 'gainst greatest, in sore straits ! THE EVIL SPIRIT OF DOUBT. Like an old Sorcerer essaying spells. Who stumbles on some cabalistic word, Some potent formula, and sudden, stirred. Earth cleaves ; 'mid dreadful sounds, shrieks, groans,and yc!!;>, Rise evil Spirits, dread his spirit quells : He dare not leave his " circle," but immuretl Therein, the Spirits whom he hath adjured He cannot lay, nor knows what ban expels Their dreaded presence ! — so I, shut within The magic circle of my Thought, see rise This Spirit dread of darkness, doubt, and sin. I cast about, I shudder, agonise ; I call on Reason ; it doth gnash and grin ; On God, it trembles and believes, and flies ! LOVE. Thou hast wide diapason, Love ! dost speak With utterance manifold to one self-end ! In chorus of thy praises too all blend. Thou mak'st the weakest strong, the strongest we.-.k. Some thou dost like a gadfly sting and prick, Nature's great primal purpose to befriend ; Here Venus' Philtres Bacchus' "Drops" transcend ; Nor needs thy fire other fuel to eke And super-heat it. Some warm best on wine, And spice the draught with kisses, as lewd Rome Spiced her rank cups. Some thou dost touch to fine Ethereal issues, to their hearts dost come, And fann'st with wings and airy breaths divine Thy flame upon that hearth, its altar-home 1 K 242 STOIVES FROM THE QUARRY; "EVERLASTINGS" AND NEVERLASTINGS. O ye " Immortelles," flowers of heavenly bloom, Ye Amaranths, that fade not aye, like our Frail growths of Time, which spring up in an hour. And pass like Jonah's gourd, whose brief perfume But hides awhile the odour of the tomb ! On which are writ (as on that fabled flower (157), Dear to the Muses), woeful words and dour (158), " Ai, Ai," the wail of Nature o'er Man's doom ! Ye are vouchsafed awhile, to charm Man's sight, With Eden-perfumes to intoxicate, And steep him in oblivious delight. Sweet dreams of Youth and Love, 'bove Death and Fate; Life, like the temple-incense, ye fill quite For a brief while, then leave it desecrate. TEARS. Of tears that should be cherished, kept in store, In fine memorial lachrymatories, Ey jealous Love, heir-looms beyond all price. With nicest guard and conservation ; more In worth as tears than pearls since or before ; Few precious thus, shed as from his own eyes, That should emhAm, like dews of Paradise, And, if aught could, whate'er they touch restore. Hath Love laid up ! Too precious, precious brine Of Death and Love, joint vintage and most rare ; Men store Falernian, true Poets thine ! One precious lachrymatory Time doth spare. That which embalmed (preservative divine) ! Andromache's pure tears for aye doth bear ! (159) THE LAST LOOK. Dost thou know what it is to take the last. Long, lingering look at all which thou dost love The best on earth, and prizest far above All else, though all else in the scale were cast ? Hast thou, with breaking heart and eyes aghast. Marked the last faint smile quiver, cease to move The dear lips, which their love can no more prove, Which forced, while over them Death's shadow past, A smile, last gleam of love ? Oh, bitter sight ! Methinks that Death, with pity touched, his dart In Lethe steeped, as to disguise the smart, And came as sleep comes with dreams of the night ! Sad Memory owns no such Lethcean art, While to forget would make a blank outright. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 243 THE SONNET-RACK. Poor Thought ! stretched on Rime's Procrustean bed, And threatened, saving that it doth not kill Outright, with every mortal ache and ill By Thought, Thought in the flesh, inherited, Clothed on with Words, its mortal weeds. First head And neck must crane and stretch ; then feet, until Of prescribed length, or lopped, sometimes with skill Surgeonly, oftener hacked, till well-nigh dead. So liest thou on the rack. Body and Soul, At odds, in dread of rimed Death, who waits At every turn, and mocks each twist and roll, While words unsesquipedalian curse thy Fates ! Now 'tis thy racked brain can't the thought control, Now thy lame feet won't go ; curs'd in both states ! THE LAST KISS. I took my lips from hers ; against my breast I felt her heart (for lips could make no sign) Throb faint and low, life's last, last beat ; divine, As close of solemn music, which if ceased Or sounding still we mark not ; so, released, Death in his arms received her out of mine ; And lovingly, and, as with a most fine And nice regard, o'er his dark threshold eased Her gentle passage ! Like a breath of air That stirs the tree-tops, or cloud's passing chill, So passed she ; and a silence deep fell there. As when God's presence doth a Temple fill. And that last kiss, as clasp-lock Missal rare. Locks my heart's tablets, and their contents still. SURROUNDINGS AND BELONGINGS, How subject and how servile unto Time And Place is mortal shaping ! not the cloud Now by the fanciful Wind y-bent and bowed To this shape, now to that, is less allowed Of licence and self-mouldage. Man's sublime Creative Genius is but endowed With the soil's touch it grows on, as the proud And stately oak would, elsewhere, scantly climb And top his fellows. In our formal days Milton had " Epic " neither lived nor writ, Nor " Paradise Regained " would " Lost " replace. Great he needs must have been ; but, made to fit Another sphere, his Muse would change her lays, His week-day life the high-raised buskin quit ! R 2 244 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE SUEZ CANAL, OR THE MARRIAGE OF THE RED SEA AND MEDITERRANEAN. "With high-symbolic and expressive rite, Great Venice linked her Fates unto the Sea, With ring and Holy Wedlock, so to be As one, for better and for worse unite. And long, as bride and spouse, they took delight In other each : as Rome, with Peter's key, In Spirituals, she could bind and free In Temporals, by her amphibious might. But She of Earth with Ocean ill may mate ; Sea-change came o'er her, and her great spouse sought A Daughter of the Waters, whose high state And having Oceanic union brought. To his new Indian (i6o) bride he stretched his great Right azure hand, troth with world-changes fraught ! A WISH. O that I had a mind capacious, wide. Free as the wind, above impediment Of feeble utterance and weak intent ; A mind " in fee," not to conditions tied, Absolute, lord of self, and self-supplied : Not in poor severals, nor yet content With petty exhibitions, and soon spent ; But general as the air, all-propertied. Thoughts that, like winged Mercuries, scarce touch The Earth, God's messengers 'twixt Earth and Sky ; Their veiy off-start out of sight to such As I, to whom the Muse scarce deigns so much As whisper, " Learn to walk before you fly ;" Souls to which Spirits, dumb to us, reply ! THE BEGINNING OF THE END. That heart makes muffled music ; that dear heart, Lute, on which all his finest stops Love taught ; (161) Which of its fulness gave where love ran short, Nor ever stinted, whether whole or part. A low, sad music, fitful, now with start, With pause now, of Humanity high-wrought And touched to unknown issues, only caught By the inner ear, "transposed " with Love's fine art In deep, pathetic " Minors ! " Love stands by, And plays his own divine accompaniment. To the last music of Mortality : While Death advancing, near, with fell intent, By his "Dead-March," slow, solemn, mystic, higli, Foretells himself with dread presentiment ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 245 THE SLAVE-TRADE IS SAID TO BE ALREADY REVIVING SINCE LIVINGSTONE DIED! O best knight-errant ! more than Red-cross Knight ; Real lions thine, a Una dark thy prize. (162) More than St. George, with fabled victoiics O'er dragons won, for thine will bear the light ! Ay, we may turn the sun on them, God's sight Itself, for thou wert ever in His eyes, Thou good and faithful servant ! Earth and Skies (How seldom can they !) in thy praise unite. And is it so ? Hast thou heroic life Then lived in vain ? — the Hydra, Slavery, Its heads re-grown, with havoc once more rife ! No, in Men's mouths thy name shall never die ; A call divine to more than carnal strife, Grand spiritual warfare's battle-cry. CAST NOT PEARL TO SWINE. O thou divinest Muse ! if any think For the mere bread that perishes alone ^ To serve thee, for thy Manna thou a stone Shalt give them ; nor let such as love the clink Of gold more than of rime conceit to drink The living waters of thy Helicon ; Divinely they intoxicate thereon Ne'er meet thee, in fine phrenzy, at its brink ! They who would call the Muse forth on the Lyre, Must purify their hearts, free from all dross. Like gold thrice-furnaced, passed thrice through the fire : And count for gain all that is earthly loss. Thee sole must serve, to thee sole their desire ; For Worse, for Better, both their crown and cross ! SOURED? EH ! Soured ? not yet, thank God ! Neither the wine Of Life runs thin nor on the turn ; nor yet Doth the Falernian require to be set A-tilt, to get enough to warm the Nine With Bacchus o'er hi*^ cups, and nod divine. Nor doth the milk of Human Kindness get Soured or taint with keeping ; you might let A mother suckle babe on it in fine. 'Tis well. When in that cup, my heart, which Love For his divine libations filled erewhile. The wine doth neither stir aright, nor move To Love and Friendship, sour 'tis and vile. And if that milk of kindness too so prove. Then break the cup, which Life's mere dregs defile ! 246 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; A SUDDEN BURST OF SPRING. Hey, presto ! like a transformation-scene Spring leaps, as through the window, at a bound, Lithe Harlequin, and waves his wand around And all transforms ! In glister and in sheen Sweet May, like Columbine with tricksy mien, Trips after him ; in Pantaloon is found Old Winter's semblable, late all-befrowned, Who lags behind, and threatens fits of spleen. No formal, stereotyped part our Earth plays, Nor doth she in the Seasons' treadmill run. But shuffles like a pack of cards the days ; And should she change her axis to the sun. Black may grow White, White Black, for still her ways She changeth, ever doing, never done. WOMAN AT HER BEST. O Woman ! when in purity of soul. With blended mien of majesty and grace, Thou standest forth, and virtue in thy face. Fair mirror ! sees herself full-length and whole ; Her we adore in thee, and to that pole Of sweet attraction, in her pride of place. All hearts are drawn, and the sweet likeness trace To that divine Original, the goal And crown of Womanhood ! And when, enthroned On thy fair brow, in softened majesty, Thought sits, Uranian Venus, by all owned ; And thy wise heart interprets errlessly The oracles of I>ove, in thee atoned, " Woman " is glorified and set on high ! BACK-ENTRIES IN A DIARY. Here are the days looked forward to with fear Or hope : the pleasures that, ere from their face The mask of presence dropt, lured with such grace. Yet jilted us : the joys, (too precious-dear !) Which came, all smiles, yet left us with a tear Still in their eyes ; smiles which the courses trace Of future furrows ! There the dull, blank space Of days which followed like sad mutes some bier ! Strange retrospect ! as is some sea-swept shore At lowest ebb unto the same at flood. With waifs and strays, and wreckage strewed all o'er. How hard to realise the bygone mood ! We pick some old memorial waif up, pore Upon it. Self by Self scarce understood ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 247 THE UNCORRUPTED AFRICAN. (163) The swarthy kisses of the African Do set on dusky lips as true a seal Of Human Love, as sure a bond of weal As lips which mock at sable Cupids, ban The rosy Loves thence, those of the " White Man." He doth conceit God would Himself reveal Through hini alone, would from poor Esau steal His birthright, and Man's place in the great plan Scarce leave him ! To the level of the brute His Brother lowering, he brutish grew Himself, and in all evil followed suit. Should he, like luxury-rotted Rome, draw too Heaven's wrath down, have taste of the bitter fruit, A dark-browed Nemesis God's will may do \ 'Tis far below the horizon in dark night As yet ; but o'er the edge of Destiny Portentous outlines stand out 'gainst the sky, To those who watch, and catch the lurid light, The fitful, ominous balefires, which give sight Thereof ; like Northern lights shot up on high. As 'twere hurled spears and battle's mimicry, New Attilas, far-mustering for the fight ! Look in that magic glass, thou Pale- face, thou, (Not like Agrippa's fabled mirror this). See Luxury's taint o'erspreading heart and brow. New leprosy ! Thy Faith with Judas-kiss, Thy Christ anew, hast thou betrayed : see how Best flee the wrath to come, while 'tis called "Now !" LIVINGSTONE'S PICTURE AND APPRAISEMENT OF THE UNSOPHISTICATED AND FREE AFRICAN. O noble Soul ! as in a mirror true. Drawn at full length, each native lineament Expressive of high purpose and intent. We see thee here, and self-portrayed too ; We look, we love, still more the more we view ! It does our hearts good ; for thus are we sent Back to great Nature and her sweet content. Like prayer to Soul 'tis, to the Sense like dew ! Thou hast so long, so unsophisticate, Thy grand life shaped to hers, that from thine eyes All scales of Custom fall, and they dilate Their vision to Man's highest destinies. Thou dost the swarthy image there create. That White in Black may " Brother " recognise ! 248 STO.VES FROM THE QUARRY; LIVINGSTONE. If he had crossed the threshold of my door, I should have called it blessed, as if trod By angel high-commissioned of God ; Nay, had he my own body passed o'er, A living threshold, I had held it more A place and mark of honour and of laud, Than when to the very echo crowds applaud, Gregariously, their idol of the hour ! His work too great is to be measured yet ; Himself too, great as simple, thorough "Man." He hath raised up the outcast Negro, set As on a pedestal, and freed from ban ; And paid the large arrears of that great debt, Humanity's debt to the African ! SHAKSPEAR. Like the great sun, with all-surpassing light TIiou put'st all lesser lights out ; they but show, Like Hesper, when thou leave giv'st and dost go ; Or else like Lucifer, ere yet in sight ! Such poor Comparatives do but invite Question of less or greater light and glow Among themselves ; for, thou by, they all owe Obeisance to the One and Infinite ! The sum of all that lesser Wits fly by To thine, a feather in the eagle's wing. If grace ; not more in perfect infancy : If Sweetness ; not in flower more or spring : If Modesty ; 'tis Power that stoops to tie The very shoestrings of Humility I (164) If "Wit ; 'tis Laughter " holding both his sides," And, like his very opposite, in tears. If Humour ; through that opposite's appears A smile, the April weather which divides Tears scarce from smiles, and cherishes and chides Them both in turn. If Music ; like the spheres, An inner harmony, not for Men's ears Alone, but drawing Souls, o'er all presides. If Love ; 'tis Woman, the best type of Eve ; Wife, Mother, Maid, thou fit'st each to her place, Nor if Hermaphrodite could'st truer give. If Power ; thine what Ocean is in space. Thus I in severals piece thee, through a sieve Sift thee, and catalogue, not Whole retrace ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 249 OLD AGE. Poor Age ! thou like a beggar go'st about, "With wallet at thy back, for scrap and dole, Kind word and look, to cheer thy saddened soul ; Full often met with wounding gibe and flout. Thy life before thee hangs in fear and doubt, For thou dost sit with grim Death cheek by jowl, Still hob-a-nob with him o'er Lethe's bowl : "What Present pours in Past letting nm out ! Ay, broken is '= the golden bowl ; " (165) no more It holds the wine of Life, but lets it run To waste, like drunken spilth upon the floor ; 'Tis run to Memory's dregs, and well-nigh done. Age, like a drunken tapster, still doth score The reckoning, though of wine he draweth none. THE PRISM. Who turned thee from thy path, and made thee show Thy Jacob's-coat of many colours. Light ! Celestial Harlequin, disguised in white, And yield thy secret wher (166) thou wouldst or no ; His spell a bit of glass shaped so and so ! He drew no circle ; used no magic rite, No Spirits called but the One Infinite Of Knowledge, to which all submission owe I No glass but one shaped so that sprite had shown ; No eye but his the subtle elf had seen ; And in such different shapes for one same known : To most he a stage-harlequin had been, A tricksome sprite ; and had glass ne'er been blown, He would have tricked e'en Newton's eye, I ween ! TO MRS. . Too beautiful art thou to be beheld Of mortal eyes without suggestion Of that should be unthought, still more undone, Unless the Earthly by Divine be quelled : For Sin is both attracted and repelled I Whiles Beauty, like a magnet, draws us on, And steel can no more thai than hearts th' other one Resist ; by Adoration Sin expelled Is touched to that it worships ! In such case. Thy beauty and thy virtue both combine In one pure heavenly beam of light : two rays, Or like two chords of music to so fine And perfect pitch attempered, that no place For discords is, but unison divine ! 250 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; UNFULFILLED LIVES. Some souls are like an instrument ill-played, Or seldom played, and seldom in accord. Deep harmonies lie in them (like the word. Thought's Incarnation, unwrit and unsaid). But (still-born melodies) unuttered Pass out of Being ; or if ever heard, Like a note inarticulate of bird, Murmur of wood or stream, vague sense conveyed. Guessed at, not understood ! So live they as Enigmas to themselves — pearls in a deep By diver never sounded ; o'er a glass Shadows that glide ; forms half-grasped as in sleep. Fortune turned not the key nor gave her " pass " To action, but their hearts fast locked did keep. TO . PROTEST AGAINST A BASE ACTION. Oh, let not thy own hand inflict a wound On thy fair fame, which Time, who heals nigh all, Shall but enlarge and make perennial ; An injury so intrinse and profound That it shall bleed hereafter, be still found Imposthumate and posthumous, and shall So taint thy memory beyond recall, That scorn shall track it still as carrion hound ! Wounds from without bleed outwardly, but this Bleeds inwardly, and leaves thee all-unmanned ! He who his own life takes may with a kiss Of peace salute the brow of Death, and stand Absolved by Mercy ; but life's life this is. Thy own fair fame to slay, thyself to l)rand ! LIVINGSTONE'S GRAVE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 'Neath this Dead-stone lieth the Living-stone ! The " text " of otie is, all that perishes ; The portion of the Worm ; of Tears ; which says Ashes to ashes, dust to dust are gone ! Knock at this narrow door ; answer is none ! Knock at the gates of heaven, and always As from the mouths of angels sounds his praise, From angel-trumpets to the four winds blown ! Of the other, " He dead is not — is not here. But risen ! " From this stone of Grace shall come (This Living Stone, to saints and martyrs dear) A Temple-cornerstone ; true stone, not dumb But crying from the wall, " Be of good cheer, Ye Bond ! God builds the fold and calls ye home ! " OR, MOODS OF MIND. 251 THE DISBELIEF OF A FUTURE LIFE. If this be so, e'en let blank-eyed Despair Write o'er Life's very entrance-gates, — " Here leave All hope behind," no sooner born than grieve ! Ay, let the infant at the breast, the heir Of that great Sorrow, Life ! its tears prepare. And v/eep or e'er the mother's breasts suck give ! Love at Life's fount and Grief together strive E'en from the first, till Grief alone flow there ! Turn thy torch downward, Love, (167) like Death; for now 'Twill earthwards smoulder briefly and go out. Droop like a fading lily, thy pure brow, Poor blighted Faith ; with this fell dagger, Doubt, O Poet-heart (worst suicide, I trow). Pierce thyself through, with maniac-laugh and shout ! Life were but as that prison (on a scale To make us for awhile forget 'tis one). Where cruel Venice shut some ill-starred son (168) Of hers, beneath her ban, whose heart did fail As the cold, merciless walls' embrace of bale Drew daily closer Death by inches on ! So here Death, by enlarged comparison, Man circumvents with the world's vaster pale ! A prisoner from the first, although the cage So glorious, he conceits himself as free ; Yet closing with I'emorseless stealth of age Upon him on all sides, till he can see The walls, and in despair, or grief, or rage. Beats at them, till they but his coffin be ! GA'AASSA ! OA'AASSA ! Once more, oh once more have I sight and sense Of thee, thou boundless Ocean ! Once again Thy sound is in my ears, that mighty strain Of multitudinous waves in one immense And boundless utterance of omnipotence. The sense of freedom seems to fire my brain, And fill my heart with joy almost to pain, A tongueless rapture, wordless and intense. Up the stern cliff the wave comes bounding still, Like a great shaggy hound that leaps to kiss His unregarding master's hand, and ill Denial brooks. O God ! methinks it is, 'Mid the worn years and hollowness that kill. And blight Man's life, like the remembered bliss Of Hope and Youth's indomitable will ! 252 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; CURSE NOT. I will not curse, whatever may betide ; But bless, like Balaam, bless for evermore ; Ay, though the Balak of the world before Me stood, with all his frowns, his bribes, his pride, And bade me take his idols for my guide, And bow to them ; by what it stores set store ; Curse what it curses ; bless all and adore That it does ; and what it sneers at deride, I would not curse ; not even the poor ass That Balaam cursed ; for unto each and all Must come that " narrow way " which all must pass ! Well if an Angel only stop and call Us to account, and not a Devil, as All cursing brings, and has brought since the Fall ! FIRST TRUE LOVE. O my beloved ! ere the dreary days. Whose shadows even now on the " high lights " Of Love's enchanting picture fall, like blights On Eden's springtide, meet us in our ways, Like spectres, and the rosy hours chase : Ere with this bond of Love, which all true plights And pledges knit, and his own hand unites. Life or Death palter, let us its full grace And graciousness enjoy ! Ere this pure kiss, Which makes the cup of Life more precious far Than Cleopatra's pearl, its rapture miss. And fear of, ere Life's bitter itself, mar ; Let us, imparadised in this great bliss, Forget all else, and only feel we are ! Not far that more than Hybla-honey goes Below the goblet's edge, although it make All after bitter some taste of it take. But once Love's honey-bees enrich with those Pervasive sweets the hive ; but once it blows That flower divine which yields them; for Man's sake Once in his life it blooms, that he may slake Immortal longings, feel celestial glows ! So great the rapture that it almost dies In its too-much ; trembles in its own bliss, E'en as a dove that to his sweet mate flies And sees a falcon poising not to miss. So o'er Man's happiness Death ever lies In wait, and as his shadow that fear is ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 253 "PROCRASTINATION IS THE THIEF OF TIME." To-morrow ! poor To-morrow ! broad thy back Should be, and tough thy sides, to bear the goad Of aye-behind-time- Purpose, with his load Of "Good Intentions," that huge motley pack ! Crushed ass with panniers, worn-out carrier's hack, Ne'er did so little, so much service owed, As, with his " Stolen Goods " and ill-bestowed Thou, whom Procrastination still doth thwack, Belated and o'erweighted ! Sorry jade ! Scape-goat of Yesterdays ! poor fool of time ! Betwixt you, as betwixt two stools, betrayed, To-day the sins of both finds laid on him ! Our Yesterdays (Mime mocking counter-mime) Fool our To-morrows, and fools of are made. MIGHTY IN VACUO. In speculation bold, he would dethrone A Jupiter — on Ossa Pelion pile ; Scathe like the lightning with his very smile, Scare like the thunder with his very tone. As by the light of his achievement shown The toils of Hercules seem almost vile ; "While nothing less than sesquipedalian style, Pegasus at top of speed would suit his own. But view him when "reduced " to flesh and blood ; His seven-league-boots put off, his waxen wings And feathers moulted ; in his waking mood. Brought face to face, not with " the shows of things," But with the things themselves, evil and good ; " A lion in his path " each shadow flings ! A SPRINGTIDE THOUGHT. My heart is sad (they say extremes do meet). In very plenitude of happiness Runs over, spills itself in tears, which less Of pain than joy have, yet are bitter-sweet ! The thought that all these glories so soon fleet ; This crush and crowd, this instant throng and press Of ear, eye, senses, all this loveliness, O'ercomes me, as when in a breath we greet And say farewell to Dearest ! Oh, my Heart, With the rich wine of Life thus running o'er, Shall I now drain thee brimful as thou art, Or make libation upon Earth's green floor ? 'Twere sacramental, to Him to give part Who gives all, and Whose blessing makes less more I 254 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS AND BEVERAGES. Had Bacchus nurtured our old English brains, Not upon barley-bree but pure grape-juice, The inspirations of our island-Muse, Her mighty issue and renown'd birth-pains, Might have ta'en other shape, yielded new "strains" Of bloods and genius — a finer use And turn of wit ; less rudeness to excuse ; A Pegasus who less the bit disdains. For manly vigour, independent thought, John Barleycorn may hold his own with all ; The Muses with the tankard spells have wrought As with the wine-cup, high-potential ; But the more subtle flavours, which are caught By Taste's fine palate, for Falernian call. TIME "ON ENTAIL." Fool ! think not thus to tie up either foot Or hand of Time, or stop him on his way ; From the direct forthright to turn or stay. With parchment, red tape, seal, and sign unto 't. And cabalistic words to strike fools mute. •He laughs at these and makes of them child's-play ; Rends, as a Samson his green withies may ; Aside casts, like an old moth-eaten suit. He goes apace ; none stop him nor he stays ; And those who by the forelock him not take He leaves behind, like fools who at four ways Stand at a loss. The Gordian-knots knaves make And fools cut with the sword, he gently frays, And lo ! they're gone, like eddies in barque's wake. A MIDDLE-AGE PASSION. Oh, had I sooner known, or not at all ! Yet not to know thee were to gain a loss ! 'Twere both to suffer and be spared a cross. Loss, should thy sweet name on th' ear not fall ; That "Open-Sesame," spell musical, Keynote to thee, the Music ! Gain (yet worse Than loss) to know thee, and yet know perforce Love's harmony hath no such "interval ! " Hard choice, where either, chosen, seemeth worst ! 'Tis as if one an-hungered should be told Of choicest wine wherewith to quench his thirst, Or the reverse. My heart, with love o'er-bold. Drawn towards thine orb more close than else it durst, Conceits it young because no longer cold ! (169) OR, MOODS OF MIND. 255 TIME WAS : TIME IS : TIME'S PAST. When is To-morrow ? never— ever — still To be ; for when it is, it is To-day ; When past, 'tis Yesterday. So doth it play At hide-and-seek, and with vague hopes doth fill The hearts of Men, yet have they not their "A-il! Each shapes it beauteous as a morn in M-iy, Aurora-like, but when he thinks to lay Hand on it, it dissolves in vapour chilL How different, laid out upon the bier Of Yesterday, while the late-bridesmaid hours, Now mourners, weep the bride's brief, bright career ! To-morrow every virgin-joy deflours, Nor unto full fruition cares to rear His bastardy, but Saturn-like devours ! THE DAYS THAT ARE FEW AND EVIL. Old Age is like a shipwreck : first we fling Our unconceming havings overboard, (Not those which as dear life itself we hoard, But its impedimenta) ; then some thing Memorial, to which we closer cling ; Next, with a pang that like a two-edged sword Our hearts in twain cleaves, something loved, adored, Which kills with many deaths and lingering ! Then comes the touch supreme ; the wrench for dear, Dear life itself : down goes that heavy scale O'er-weighted ; up the other, emptied, clear Already ; e'en the antic, Hope, doth fail To flutter o'er it : Death himself is near, And Charon's the sole " life-boat " within hail ! THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS. Heaven hath set its seal on him, and owes Perpetual benediction ; in his face Shines forth, and unmistakeably, its grace ; Haloed (like Moses from the Mount) it glows. And in the dark one might, if but held close. The Bible read by it, and find the place. Divine interposition he can trace Though " cold the scent," so fine his pious nose ! Blessing and bless' d, spending and spent, his life ; As brimstone Satan's, airs from heaven reveal Plis presence ; theologic blasts of strife His going ; his discretion as his zeal. Yet no Saint he, alack ! is to his wife ; No hero to his valet dare appeal I STONES FROM THE QUARRY; DEAD SILENCE. There is a padlock, worse than lock and key. Upon Man's lips ; when heart bids hold the tongue ; A silence, through which, like a far knell rung In midnight stillness, wails a voice which we Would shun by deafness too, if that might be_: Better be deaf and dumb than to be stung By that cold adder, Memory, inly wrung And gnawed at heart, and without power to flee. Though we were deaf, the inner ear would hear That cold, sepulchral w^Mf/Z^ sound, "Alone!" (170) Like echo wailing through some ruin drear. That worst of silence, of dear voices gone ! Spells to unlock sealed heart, open deaf ear ; Keys to dumb lips, with answering tone to tone ! ELIZABETH BARRETT'S SONNETS. How like, in their own purest inner light, A diamond, thy thoughts shine on my soul ! A spiritual lamp to some high goal To lead it, held as by an angel bright. Yet since no diamond can to such height Of pure illumination and so sole Attain, or what it shines on so control, Say, they are angel's looks in upward flight ! Dull owls complain thy fancies are obscure, Blind in thy light ; their darkness calling thine. Yet as unto the pure all things are pure, All clear are in that inner light divine. Thy soul, transfigured, its sweet portraiture Here photogiaphs, for God doth through it shine. TO-MORROW. For what grand picture is such frame designcil 1 So rich in emblems and devices rare The border, that less hand might v/ell despair Than Raphael's to fill it in in kind. And match such matter with a bettering mind. So wide the field that from his palette there Rubens the rainbow might translate to air, And Iris-scarf around his landscape wind. Alas ! 'twas in such gorgeous picture-frame Ixion saw in bright "dissolving view" His Juno fade : each dreamer does the same ; Reduced to Disappointment's scale and hue, "To-day's " poor easel-picture puts to shanfe The grand cartoon Hope for " To-morrow '' drew ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 257 AN AIRY VISION ! (171) O God ! what sight it were, some day shall be, When Man shall navigable make the air, " Dissociative," as once oceans were. And sail the airy Main like watery sea ; For Nature's lock of many wards the key Of Science opens, and the wonders there. Reserved, to spur him on still more to dare ; Far reach her hands and far her eyes can see. What sight ! by balanced forces surely held, The anchorage of Electricity, To see our home (dear speck of Earth) propelled. Like limpet on its rock, tides rushing by, Swept with our Planet, and, with night dispelled, Leap from the west, to time true as the sky ! As one long lost in some strange, wondrous maze, With whispers, sounds mysterious in his ears. And sights confirmative of what he hears. Gleams, glimpses, gone ere he their course can trace, Whence, whither, with which yet suggestion plays ; At length feels in his hand, 'twixt hopes and fears. As pilot glimpse of star by which he steers. Supposed clue, and tremblingly obeys Its light and leading. So do I with this ; In this great thought I grope about to find The clue ; my soul wrapt in the unknown bliss. And, as between two thunderclouds, my mind, The point of contact, as a focus is Of light and sound, no longer deaf or blind. LOVE "WRIT LARGE." How rich is Love ! Love, the true Beautifier, The Consecrator ! who embalms a flower Touched by loved hands beyond base Fortune's dower. Self-offer'd, through his heaven-lit altar-fire The Human Heart must pass to all that's higher. Sole Exorciser ! whose diviner power. Like Aaron's rod, can all ill things devour, And that worse Spirit, Self (as Truth a liar). Cast out and ban ! O Love, confineless Love ! Thou scorn'st the gauds and gewgaws of the \'\'orid ; For thy inheritance is from above ! Thou breakest down its barriers ; unfurl'd Thy flag by Him, who, gentle as the Dove, Yet wise as Serpent, mountains can remove ! s 2S8 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; NEAR A FOUNTAIN IN ITALY. I hear the water plashing o'er the brink Of the bright fountain : from the marble-mouths Of Dolphins flows, to quench the summer-drouths, The sixfold jet, Hygeia's own pure drink ; Too seldom joined with Bacchus, praised with ink ; To lave and wash, and foster her fair growths ; The maidens fill their jars ; while the sweet Soufh's Soft breath, the plash, the murmurs, make me wink. Half-dreaming now, with one wave of his wand Morpheus transforms the scene : I hear the sound Of that old Grecian tongue, so sweet yet grand ; To Hypereia's fount my way I've found ; The maidens sing around it as they stand, Or tell Andromache's sad tale renown'd. (172) ON A VERY HOT SUMMER'S DAY. No Zephyr opes a lip or stirs a wing ; The scorched leaf flickering falls straight to the gi'ound ; The silence scarce is broken by the sound Of broom or gorse-click, as they jerk and fling From the split pods their seeds : soft-flickering And lambent, as aflame, the air around Glows visible ; while on the horizon's bound An azure mirage of calm sea doth bring Suggestion of relief. Yon river's flow Keeps, too, fair look of promise to the eye But cheats the lip ; one sense befooling so The other : so some tell truth and yet lie ! And since, awake, I thirst, with dreamy show Morpheus, Vice-Bacchus, shall my fancy ply. LIVINGSTONE'S GRAVE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Open thy maw, insatiate Death ! and take All that thou canst oi him (how little 'tis !) For whom Memorial grander far than this ■ Old Abbey his own Africa shall make. In her own heart embalm him, for His sake, Who by his lips, by that grand life of his, And Martyr-death, seals with vicarious kiss Of Peace, anew, I/is Gospel, which can break (That only) all Man's bonds ! Take there his bones, And, like some grim, gaunt Afric lion, cram Thy maw ! he dieth not ; his Spirit owns Immortal life ; through the dark Land of Ham Like dawn it goeth, quickening stocks and stone:?, And shall, till lion lieth down with lamb. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 259 THE BLESSED RETROSPECT OF GOOD DEEDS. How little, at l/ie ntonient, we appraise Some gentle deed of Grace, whereto His love Who bade us conquer 111 with Good may move Those hearts that yearu to follow in His ways. Though from afar ; and catch sight of His face, As 'twere, in some good deed may lift above Ourselves both and the World, and so approve Itself, a faint reflection of His Grace. As at a spring we may, unweeting, drink And save our lives thereby, so may good deed Our souls ; each in long chain mysterious link. In its first chrysalis-state, 'tis as a seed ; But by and by that meaner form will shrink, And thence towards Heaven like a wing'd Angel speed. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. Cold, cold grow those dear lips, which seemed to speak Though silent, and all sweetest things to say ; Catching, alike in earnest and in play, Love's very dialect ; yet were words weak To eyes in which Love all himself would seek To utter, focused in a single ray ! Thy mouth, that smile ! whence sweeter sounded "Xay"' Than others' " Yes," smiles still ; as Patience meek, Gentle as Pity ! On those lips that kiss Which sealed our bond of love when its first glow Took the impression which still on them is. Let me renew ; that bond re-sealing so " For Aye ;" under no "hand and seal" but His ; Kiss pure as to Death's marble lips we owe ! Yes ! like the image sculptured on a tomb, Already monumental, consecrate To Memory, surrendered without date To God who takes His own, as to His doom I humbly bow, I kiss thee in this room. Whose poor confines disparting, which so late Held all my All, to unimagined state Release thee : thee to light, but me to gloom I 'Tis the last kiss ! and with it thy last brralh. Half in faint sigh felt, half seen in faint smile. Takes angel-parting. Love makes way for Death, So gentle, as if he would both beguile, And himself too ! "Immortelle" in Hope's wrer.th. Sweetest in Memory's, bless'dbe thou the while! (173) s 2 25o STONES FROM THE QUARRY; REALITIES AND SEMBLANCES. If thou would'st see the beauty of a thing, Its inner meaning and significance, Something beyond and more than what it chance To be to thee and for thy furthering ; Above all, would'st thou to this grand World bring True-understanding heart, then be thy glance As his who in a temple doth advance To the High-altar, hearing Angels sing " Holiness to the Lord ! " Then let thine eye Be single, else thou will not see aright God's works, nor quickened be nor vivify. As in false mirror at false angles, light Shows all things false and proves it so thereby. Thy false mind shall befool thee with false sight. O true-brave Spirit, in the noblest sense. Who dar'st to look thyself full in the face In Truth's pure mirror, o'er which if aught base. Aught that can give, even in thought, offence. Even a breath, should pass, such evidence It leaves, that all dread to look in her glass ; Therefore they sideways glance and hasty pass. With looks assumed and making much pretence ! Nut such, not such thou, noble Livingstone ! True Living Stone, which God struck, and thence flowed The Living Water, by its quickening known ! Thine eye was single ; thus God to thee showed His loving Truth, and taught thee by thy own Pure heart both what was owing and what owed. So towards thy dark-browed Brother, where the hand Of genial Nature moulded him in free And gentle wise beneath his Banyan-tree ; And stamped " Man" on his brow, not the " Slave's" brand, And only laid on him her mild command To work, and Labour's blessed necessitie. Toil's gentle bonds, lightened by health and glee, — Thy large heart from hid sources did expand. E'en as that Nile thou soughtest. So thy.sight, Purged with more than euphrasy and me, With Love, and Pity's drops, that true "eyebright," Saw all the beauty, spite of dusky hue. Of that sweet, natural Life of Labour true And Love, each bless'd and blessing as of right ! ( 1 74) OR, MOODS OF MIND. 261 Thou didst not see with wolfish eyes of Greed, Harsh, brutal, stripping naked, setting bare In the fierce light and hardened, shameless stare Of grinding Mammon, preying on its need. Humanity, "poor forked thing" indeed Thus stripped and viewed ; with no surrounding air Or atmosphere of Love, to set it fair In its own sight and God's ; trod down like weed By swine of Mammon ! Worse than poor, dumb beast, His Life more cheap, is Man thus viewed by Man, With eyes misprizing greatest things for least. And casting pearl to swine, with curse and ban ! Where God prepared for Man His glorious feast (175) Foul swine of Mammon wallowing, wasting ran ! O noble Spirit ! Light set on a hill ; Lamp by God Himself to Humanity Held forth to guide it, and to show thereby, Like a bless'd Spring. morn chasing clouds of 111, By its pure shining, all things as His will Would have. His wisdom made ; — pardon, if I, Who am. not worthy to unloose e'en thy Shoe's latchet, take thy parable up still ! How small by thee the Mighty of the World ! How less than small the Mammon-grovelling herd ! Thou'st set a Stone a-rolling, spoken a Word, As out of God's own mouth, 'neath which, down-hurl'd, The Powers of Darkness shall be crushed, and, stirred, Humanity's great heart make itself heard ! (176) TEARS. Trouble and grief bring tears ; and many too. And bitter, ay, as Marah's waters were ; Yet e'en to sweeten such need none despair. But may, if with like faith, like Moses do. And when these waters (even as earthlier through Fine soils) through heavenly strainers passed are, And all impurities have settled there, Troubled no more but clear, they gather to And fill Truth's deepest wells. Into such " pool " Angels go down : the waters thereof heal ! Childhood hath April-tears ; and ever full Are Rapture's eyes who some from grief doth steal ! Oh that we such could store, when hearts grow dull, In lachrymatories, to make them feel ! 262 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE BORE OF THE SEVERN. Hark ! what a sound is here ! It is the roar Of Neptune's grand sea-horses (for they neigh Not like the steeds of Earth), on their mad way Plunging vvitli foamy manes, higli-rearing o'er The river's banks : hark ! 'tis the Severn's "bore 1" Mighty One of the Waters ! What then may This inland roar betoken, which makes stay Their river, and the Naiads all adore Their dread Supreme ? Com'st thou thus far inland, As mightiest Potentates do sometimes use, With lessened majesty, yet ever grand. To "beat the bounds," and claim thy inland dues ; Or make us Mortals aye in awe to stand, When e'en "writ small " thy grandeur we peruse ? TEARS AGAIN. Some tears are precious, and as pearls should be In estimation, if worth fntrinse were Measure of value ; tears than pearls more rare ! Such (priceless) as, wrung out from agonie Of contrite hearts (in kind 'bove as degree Kings' ransoms), ransom sinners from despair : Such as dark stains remove, to write out fair Once more God's saving Name, cursive and free, On the heart's tablets ! Some, too, are as dew In gracious eyes, and seem from heaven to fall; Blessed, and blessing all eyes they come to. Like Mercy's. Rare, too, those which raptures call To Poets' eyes, when they clothe on the True With Beauty; Makers (Maker-like) in small !(i77) DOUBT: AN ALLEGORY. A cloud an infant's hand might compass, and At first unseen 'tis, or seen slightingly. In the circumference of Pleasure's eye ; Who, heedless pilot ! at Life's helm doth stand. Not recking hidden rocks or nearing strand. Nor less by unregarding Youth, as fly The rosy Hours, strewing flowers, by. Like Bridesmaids, in soft dalliance hand in hand With dreaniy Love ! Alas ! aye grows that speck, Dread, stealthy, like a pall around all wound ; And Pleasure starts at Death ahead and wreck ! Swift, too, those rosy Hours run their round ; Youth pines, and Love's full pulses Time will check, And Doubt's high notes through Death's "Dead- March " resound ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 263 THE "MISSING LINK." Methinks, Friend Darwin, thou dost throw away Much labour in thy search ; doest as some Who far afield go for what lies near home ! For does not our " Homunculus," I pray, Go low enough to " hob-a-nob " with, nay, To cousin-German your " Gorilla ; " — dumb Though this be, that articulate, and come In Christian, fashion, of baptized clay? Clap this one on a tail, and straight we find A passable " Human " fox, articulate ! And rudimentary tails some of Mankind Have had ; and, quite in keeping with their state, Still more might : "laughing " Hyenas to my mind Some are ; and " Man" may every beast translate ! SHAKSPEAR'S PORTRAIT. O noble countenance ! Humanity, Like a soft light through alabaster vase. Raises the features and tones down the flaws Wrought in the Potter's finest clay still, by The o'erheating and the cooling suddenly Of our Life's furnace. On that brow the Laws Of God " writ large," both in effect and cause, Set, like the Tables of the Law, on high In sight of all are ! From those eyes the soul Looks forth like Seer's rapt in second-sight ; The lips seem made expression to controul ; And in the face interpreted aright Line upon line, the " short-hand" of the Whole, " Writ large," would make a volume infinite ! SHAKSPEAR'S UNIVERSALITY. Some shine out in particulars, in this Or that, like stars of varying magnitude On the dark ground of night ; brighter thus view'd Against their laults ; conspicuous by what is Their mere defect, one-sidedness, and miss Of thy all-compassing and sunlike mood, Which, like day, universal, doth include And show all things as in that light of His Who made them ! Hence the difference between Their partial lights and thine ; now on this side, Now on that shining, by which things are seen Only in part ; both show themselves and hide : But thy light from above illumes this scene Of Human Life on all sides, far and wide. 264 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; WHAT IS COMING? Methought I saw a hand mysterious In act to turn the page of History, And half a name on either side did lie ; As one who to a hill-top drawing close, Sees all behind, but forward view doth lose. A sentence in the turning caught my eye. That like a flash of lightning trenchantly Cut, as a sword, the Dark from Luminous ! The leaf is moving ; 'tis the hand of Time ! Deep hieroglyphics gleam about the page, And through the letters shines Truth's light sublime ; Like " Mene, Mene," (178) seems it to presage Some day of Wrath; but noneGod's heights may climb. Or Hierophant be to the Coming Age. TRUE SELF-DENYING GOOD DEEDS. These are the trees of God ! which deep and wide Spread, and strike down into Humanity Their hold-fast roots — unseen, yet crescively Yield to the Lord ; not with mere show and pride Of outward flourish, which will not abide, Which wither at the top, and at root die. With the first frostbite of adversity. Like Jonah's gourd, that fleeting lived and died To its brief Self ! But these, as deep they go, So, high they rear their heads in God's own light. And bear to Him, surpassing all below ; Of so fine flavour, so fair in His sight. That even Angels nothing higher know, Nor can God Himself Man with more requite ! • TO-MORROW AND TO-MORROW ! Thou very ass of Days ! o'er-loaded sore ; Thou aye-belaboured, over-laboured Beast ! Thou should'st have wings, like Pegasus, at least. As well as four poor feet ; for on all four Thou seldom goest, lamed in one or more, Whether it be to funeral or feast ; By Fools bestridden and with load increas'd, Who still their " Purpose," ever on before. Spur yet ne'er overtake ! Proverb paves Hell With " Good Intentions," needing oft repair ! Methinks with such thy heavy panniers swell ; And if our ways Macadamised were With such, thou too might'st journey on right well ; For self and all the World thou hast to spare. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 265 ON A FAR-OFF STAR. Oh to have cognizance, if not with eyes And sense, if but in visions of the night, Revealings mystical of second-sight, Of that far Life, that glow-worm of the skies. That diamond-point, which we poor atomies, Measuring by Nothingness the Infinite, Do call a " Star ; " what wonder and delight To doubt if dreams were or realities The things revealed ! How we should go about As with a twofold life, a mysteiy Unto ourselves, of our own selves in doubt ! Oh, what a yearning curiosity Gnaws at my heart, and like a fiend doth flout, " Excelsior " whispering in mockery ! THE OVERCROWDED "SLUMS" OF LONDON. Of Evil how the leaven this vast mass Doth leaven of pent-up Humanity ; Whose atoms in their contact putrefy, Spread and ferment fungoidal, and pass Into corruption and foul taint ; e'en as With body so with mind ; till yeastily The Human dough doth rankly rise, and high To Heaven stink, offending God, alas ! Above, as Man below ! Oh, evil case. When Human Nature on itself doth prey ! In Childhood's very heart and open face Sweet Purity no part hath, scared away By brazen Vice ; o'er all, the Serpent's base, Foul trail, who doth the innocent D(jve betray ! ( 1 79) TO . O most sweet vision ! In thy blessed face Thy soul as in a mirror doth express Itself ; and in that outward loveliness It photographs in light its inner grace ; Basks in the sunshine of thy beauty ; plays As with its shadow there, though shadowless I And as Heaven's limpid light might seem Truth's dress, So is thy Beauty thy Souljs jewel-case. Fair casket — fairer jewel I Beyond price ! Thrice happy (beyond mortal lot) were he Who should unlock the same with rare device Of love, and wear that jewel thyself, thee, In setting of his heart, till in the skies Re-set, as all God's jewels needs must be ! 266 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; WESTMINSTER ABBEY. O thou grand Prayer of Stone ! for all things share That sense and sentiment, and mutely pray ! How, from the lowly pavement which doth lay Its humble stones the poorest tread to bear, And for Death to write on them " Life," " Beware I " Steals up inaudible (yet spirits may Hear feelingly) that prayer ; and far away Thrills up each column, monumental there, Perdurable. If sermons be in stones. As with the voice of Men and Angels these Do preach, while Death amid the mouldering bones Of Greatness the World's pulses seems to freeze. Yet stop they not. All dead and living tones Join in that prayer, its volume to increase. OLD AGE. O Death ! thou boldest that dread door ajar, Whose threshold, worn by unreturning tread, Points but one way to Living and to Dead ; The downward way to goal so near yet far. Which none can guess, though all aye-guessing are. The dread Sphinx-riddle which hath swallowed. And aye will swallow (self-interpreted Alone) the Guessers, who both make and mar, And solve Death but with Life! With trembling hands, And fixed and glassy gaze. Old Age would peer Into the darkness, while his ebbing sands Run from the hour-glass and disappear ! In vain ajar that door mysterious stands ; No glimpse beyond he sees, no sound doth hear. WESTMINSTER ABBEY AGAIN. Lift up thy stones in prayer ; lift up on high Groining, and vault, and skyward- yearning tower, To bear it up as far as Earth has pov-er. Till Heaven stoop to hear it and reply. And God's grace ekes out Man's infirmity. Kneel, holy Pile, beneath the weight and dower Of hallowing ages, on thy grave-paved floor. And with thy Great and Good pray who there lie ! Tall clustered columns, weak reeds singly, strong Re-knit, re-bound, Religion'd, and at-one'd, (i8o) Lift, lift your strength and beauty up like song And anthem, let your capitals be crowned With Amen of God's grace, that so ye long May bear the weight of glory on ye throned. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 267 OLD AGE, THE SITTER. Methinks the Portrait-painter at his best Hath wrought, and con amai-e ; sour Old Age, Dull as the last miles of Life's pilgrimage, "With mouth all down at corners ; with much zest. And touch satirical most manifest ; With harsh lines which no softening lights assuage. With the worn look and pace of the last stage, He touches in ; suggestion of the rest Subtly conveying. Dark Rembrandtish tones He dashes in maliciously, and takes Such shadows from Death's palette as gravestones At sunset cast, with these the "high-lights" breaks. Unflattering Time, who " fine effects " postpones To Truth, and photographs au iiaturel makes. PROGRESS. How vainly in the giant-steps of Time, And seven-leagued stride we toil, we little Men, Striving our utmost ; only now and then. For a brief while, abreast of his sublime And onward march. To that height only climb The foremost Doers, Wielders of the Pen, (The true Divining-rod), and only when They at their best are, at their top of prime. Soon they, too, in this mortal weariness Of flesh and brain, lag in the abject rear. Gnawing their hearts to keep up with the press And throng of lesser natures, yet more near ; Who seize Occasion's forelock, and possess For a brief golden while Time's willing ear. On rolls the mighty Juggernaut, the car Of Human Progress : all-in-all the Race, Little the Individual ; little trace Leaves he behind. The greatest of Men are Scarce more than " fly upon the wheel." Some star Shines out, and is the glory of its place And time, yet doth the general Day efface Them all ; so Mankind the Particular. On, on it rolls, and generation grinds Remorselessly on generation down To the dead level of the many minds ; Yet "gentie" will it make at last the "clown." The greatest still his littleness most finds, No single brow Humanity doth crown. 268 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; DER DOPPELGANGER ; OR, MAN AND HIS "DOUBLE." Dar'st thou beneath the surface look ; away The varnish and French polish o' the outside, The " hack" conventional lendings, the false pride, Strip off, and closely scan the natural play O' the features, and let Self itself betray ? And in Truth's glass, not seeking aught to hide, Scan thyself "back and front," and then confide, In tete-a-tcte, to Self, what Truth might say ? Would Conscience shrink from the similitude ? Would Self at Self start, as at a scarecrow? As thy surroundings art thou — so and so. Some, too, who smell like niillefleurs, would exude From their inner selves a stench, such as might flow From an untrapped street-gully, if stript nude ! AN INVOCATION. O Muse belov'd, adorable ! whom I Have sought with love more than for woman felt ; For whom I gave up all, to whom I knelt As some at altars kneel for wealth, thereby With granted wishes cursed, which cog and lie Like flatterers, and Fortune but " mis "-spelt Bring mocking ! Not with me so hast thou dealt. With wealth of heart, and pleasaunce of ear, eye, All, all-enriching. And if thou sometimes Dost touch in minor key-note thy grand lyre. Which our poor mortal utterance sublimes, 'Tis that those deep harmonics may inspire Our sadder thoughts (like heaven-wafted chimes, Dispersed in air), transposed to something higher. CHARITY. Pass not the wretched dumbly. Charity Hath not a hand open as day alone ; She hath an open mouth, too, with kind tone To cheer and comfort ; in her ready eye Tears, precious beyond pearls, of sympathy ; Smiles on her lips, like gleams of sunshine thrown On clouded hearts, whence Hope hath all but flown; Words, which give more than gold could bring or buy; Words, gentle words, thawing some poor chilled h-eart, Frost-bit, alone, at distance from its kind. Doubting if God have given it a part To play ; and, in despair the clue to find. Wandering a poor, lost waif, lost at first start, In Life's great labyrinth where blind lead blind. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 269 THE LAST SAD STAGE OF ALL. In the blank vacancies of those old eyes Dulled Speculation dozes ; Thought there dwells (If Thought at all) as one who doting tells Moth-eaten tales, and aye with oft premise And retrospect confusing tells o'er twice ; Like cold hearths where some ember scarce dispels With a faint, dying flicker, but not quells The chill and darkness, so the life-glow dies And smoulders out in them. Dim, colourless, The outline of the Past there ghost-like flits. While Death still, from behind, doth urge and press, Like a poor phantom scared out of its wits ; That over the dark brink of nothingness In gibbering terror, scarcely conscious, quits. ON A PHOTOGRAPHIC LANDSCAPE. 'Tis Nature holding to herself the glass. And taking her own likeness ; frown and smile, And look still shifting with her mood the while. As light and shade with subtlest touches pass. She sits to her own self, self-painted ; as Of old, with large hand and in her own style, Vinci or Raphael, prompted to beguile Oblivion with perpetuated face. But 'tis no "picture" yet. Light, which lets see, Sees not itself ; though making visible, Reveals not what the picture's self should be. That must pass through the mind of Man as well ; In that fine furnace all aglow, while he Submits the forms of things unto its spell. TO-MORROW. Oh may it never come, that unique day, To-morrow, but for ever be To-morrow ! What plausible excuse without, to borrow Of that old usurer, Time, who makes fine play And baits with it for fools, as anglers may With sham flies for poor fish ; though to our sorrow He only gives us line, and doth forgo In Present to make Future smart and pay ; A very Shylock 1 Thou most slippery Of days ! Thou very Proteus, changing shape E'en when we seem to fix thee 'neath our eye ; Thou play'st as many antics as an ape. Occasion's forelock we may seize, but thy Elusive hold all grasp doth still escape. 270 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; TRUTH. Shrink not from Truth, but meet her face to face ; Aye, though she look thee through, and make thee know And feel thy life a lie by doing so. Her look is terrible, though full of grace, Medusa-like, it withers all that's base. She is a flame of fire, and doth go Cleansing the earth, and smiting high and low, Yet scathing only foul life and foul place, Cities of men and kingdoms. Shut thine eyes Not to her ; nor yet, like the ostrich, hide Thyself from her, while, forward, dangers rise And gather, and o'ertake the slow beside In rear. Keep with her though she sorely tries ; Yea, when most thwarting most in her confide. THE STATE CHURCH. The sea is high and working, top o' flood ; With gales schismatical ; or, worse by far, Blasts that from no point in particular O' the compass blow, winds of Free Thought, right-rude, That strike at all beliefs, evil or good Alike. Dark clouds obscure Faith's guiding star ; And coldly shine false lights and secular. Like ignes fatui, only to delude. The vessel of the Church now labours sore, And yielding to the storm, flings overboard Some precious heritage it, ark -like, bore. By loving hands held, loving hearts adored. The Faitliful strain their eyes, and fain once more Would on the waters walking see their Lord. THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE QUEEN'S CORONATION. Time, who three decades since, placed on thy young And virgin brow of temporal crown the weight. On which, amid the many gems and great, No jewels there a purer radiance flung Than those pure pearls which Nature herself strung. Of yoath and innocence. Time dolh abate The earthlier glories of thy birth and state. To foil those heavenlier Graces, not among His Givings or his Takings. He 'twas not That placed on thine anointed head beside That purer crown of Womanhood, thy lot High-raised, with sanctions, graces that abide To hallow, and with titles without blot, " Wife," " Mother,'' capped and crowned thy crowned pride. OR, MOODS OF MIND. 271 THE SUPERNATURAL, We little Men ! we crave for miracles ; Something to stare at, to lift up our eyes And hands in wonder at ; as when ghosts rise At wave of Sorcerer's wand, or ocular spells Raise up the Dead, or some strange portent tells Of Nature's order dislocate. We prize And cherish such poor wonderments, while skies, And stars, and earth are as dumb oracles, The true, real wonder is so wondersome, So far above, beyond us, that it is No wonder to the many, who go dumb, Deaf, blind therein, and thereof all sense miss : Only to greatest minds doth vaguely come, Like vision of the night, faint sense of this. Ay, like a nightmare of the soul, dim, dread, Even to such, the mightiest of brain. Who look before and after, and attain God's lesser heights. Like children they have read The star-traced scroll,and spelled His name there, spread Endless, beginningless, again, again, " Incomprehensible ; " till Thought would strain And snap, like an attenuated thread ! So then they lost all hold, and backward fell, Clutching at straws like drowning men, to stay Their fall to Nothingness, the only Hell, Lost in the wondrous maze Mind's feeble ray Serves but to make the darkness visible, Just light enough to show they've lost their way ! BELIEF. Oh how, though nipped and cut down o'er again. By frosts of Doubt, e'en to the very root. My Faith puts ever, ivy-like, new shoot And tendril forth, and labours to retain On that su>taining pillar of the fane, Which underprops the corner-stone unto it. Its hold tenacious ; lovingly to suit Each flexure, till it on the top obtain Sure coigne of vantage. But oh ! what, alas ! What if the Temple, itself shattered, fall. And like Earth's old memorial rains pass Into Time's wastes, tower, altar, pillar, wall ! Earthquake and whirlwind shake the grand old ma.ss ; What will " The still, small voice " say after all ? 272 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; AN ALLEGORY. Inspired by Love, Hope his too facile hand And self-indulging, dreamy fancy tried Upon the canvas ; youth bemused, beside The picture, rapt in visions sweet and grand, Those touches after his own heart too scanned ; As in the painter threw, and loving eyed His airy rainbow-tints that not abide ; Too dainty-fine, too delicate to stand. The fickle trio, called by Pleasure, left The unfinished picture ; when Time stealthily Took up and of its charms the brush bereft: And Death his shadow cast in passing by, A dread eclipse ! As misers at a theft. The three, returned, askaunce each other eye. LATE-RIPE INTELLECTS. Has Age no share or portion of true song? Scorn, then, the Muses Wisdom's furrows, where She sows her best wheat and most free from tare ? Watered with tears, for which she waiteth long. The latter rains of grace, which fill out strong The brain's maturer growths. May Age not wear A steady halo ; genial heat, not glare ; May not their inspiration quicken tongue In time-fraught oracles ? Yes ! their fine fire Still in such hearts may glow, burnt to a clear Strong heat, in which all dross and low desire, Like gold thrice-fiirnaced, melt and disappear : And in the truth of things a mastery higher True Poet wields ; God whispers in his ear ! TO A NOBLE-HEARTED COSTERMONGEIJ. True-generous Soul ! that needs must overflow. Like a fountain, being full, on all around ! Like sapful tree that bark-bursts, being hidebound, Thy generosity doth overgrow Its self-confines, and still abroad doth go. Until in its surroundings it hath found Whereon to spend itself ; not on the ground, Barren, to Self, in selfishness to throw Its wasted superflux. True Millionnaire ! Who seek'st thine own in others' happiness ; And gainest cent, per cent, by that most fair Investment ! Hard thy hand is, coarse thy dress ; Heart homespun, too, yet large ; it hath to spare : May God thee with what He to spare hath bless ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 273 FIRST LOVE. Oh happiness beyond not words alone, Too large, too deep to be articulate ; Which can but dumbly sit as at the gate Of speech, and murmur, and with signs make known Its ecstasy, when first Love first doth own And recognise itself. Oh bliss too great, When heaving hearts on hearts reciprocate, And on their rise and fall, his wavy throne. Love broods in Halcyon-calm ! Oh, in what thought, Like precious essence in like-costly vase, Shall Memory embalm thee as it ought ? Or, being gone, what tears that vital pause Shall register ; or from what shall be wrought Fit lachrymatory to match the cause ? WOMAN'S VOICE. Sweet laughter trilling clear and silvery, Half song, half speech, and allto' (181) musical; Sweet voices, soft and low, like angels' call, That whisper to us, as they murmur by. Of blessed things, reflections of the sky ; Love, peace, devotion, patience, bearing all, All conquering ; great victories in small. And gentlest influence, not authority. Not these the loud of tongue, sharp, shrewish, shrill, And argumentative, the " Platform " tribe. Who argue fiercely as they reason ill ; Who ape male-manners and would gall Man's kibe; But those sweet characters which Men transcribe With pen and heart, —angels, yet human still ! ON A VERY PECULIAR AND SPLENDID SUNSET. Did some Archangel, giving the fiill rein To fancy, and with from his own great wing A feather, write some grand imagining. Some passing thought, beyond Man's speech and brain, Upon yon sky, on which I gaze, in vain Th' interpretation seeking ? Do they sing, Those tongues of fire, each like a winged thing, Hosanna in the Highest, while I strain Both eye and ear ? Is it another day Of Pentecost ? — for though I nothing hear. So like to tongues are they, they needs must say Something which eye interpret may to ear. Yes ! I hear seeingly : Thy glory they, O God, declare, beyond all language clear ! 274 STONES FROM THE QUARRY ; WESTMINSTER ABBEY AGAIN. How light those columns bear the complicate And many. thrusting roof ; which, cheating sense, Leans liglitly on them, as if its immense And ponderous load were but an airy weight : So on the Graces thrones the Muse her state ! The brute stones seem as with intelligence To fit themselves with mutual reference, Types of the strength which union can create I The fluted columns, like reeds joined in one, With corporate strengths sustaining one and all The common burthen, make it seem as none, Because apportioned and symmetrical. One Thought pervasive doth throughout it run, Which lifts our souls yet on our knees makes fall ! PEGASUS. A goodly steed, in sooth ! An eye of fire, That kindles, like a subtle flame, the air ; Hoofs that strike fire and water from rocks bare And cold ; yet musical as Amph ion's lyre, That stones could make harmonic, like a quire, In rhythmic unison ! Nostrils most rare And subtle ether breathing, which few dare Of Mortals, save in vision rapt, respire ! Wings too he hath, whose wafture airs divine Attend, to lift him out of Mortals' ken. Such, when great Homer made constraining sign, And so, he stood, obedient ; and then, With Epic neigh, like that all-famous line. Upbore the glory and despair of Men ! IMMORTALITY. O precious casket, full of gems most rare ! Which all Golconda's mines could not replace, Nor match the least of! Jewels pure of Grace, Withouten flaw ; which none with can compare, Save those true counterparts which stored are In God's own treasure-house ; for a brief space Whence these are lent, to shine on Earth, and chase Its gloom, and make Men ask how they came there ! 'Tis sacrilege to rob a shrine, which is The Outward, Visible ! oh then what sin To tamper with this casket, filch from this The priceless jewels treasured up within ! Faith, Hope, Love, Charity; if these we miss. Or, worse, to doubt if genuine begin ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 275 O subtle Doubt ! thou super-subtle knave- Fiend rather — full of guile, malignity ; That nought believing in dost all belie ; Nought joying in would'st none let others have : Thou sacrilegious wretch ! would'st rob the grave Itself; and on its dismal brink let die Quite out the light of Immortality, An ignis fatuui, not what Heaven gave And meant, a guide divine ! Fain would'st thou pick The cunningest ward o' the casket ; thence abstract Those precious jewels ; with a sharper's trick And sleight of hand, so to conceal the fact, Thy poor glass make-believes — oh, how unlike ! — There substitute, and lie if caught i' the act. UNDER THE SURFACE. Tears have been stored in lachrymatories ; Though such few shed — shed, fewer care to keep. More evanescent, Smiles ; yet some leave deep And lasting trace, though proof it all defies. Let Cassius smile, great Csesar lives, Fate lies ! (182) Looks, like Minerva from Jove's brain, may leap To instant life and action ; action creep Like tortoise to his purpose while it flies. Kisses are but the matches to desire, Which kindle and burn out ; yet that first kiss To Juliet, lit, as 'twere, a funeral pyre. And Death made use of Love's own torch for his. A Cleopatra's kiss a World could fire. And courtly Death gave Love the pas too in this ! Least underlieth Greatest ; often things As unconcerning disregarded cause The failure of great actions, or their pause ; A word, just then and there, so spoken, flings A stone of offence in the way of kings. Or stays a host, ^n unfulfilled clause In Fortune's deed of gift forfeits or flaws The title, and a Nemesis so brings. Sometimes a scoi^ned agent, a mere "nought" Before the counting figure, which doth fill The World's lai'ge gaze, hath tenfold value brought Placed after — poor tool used with higher skill ; And Love, blind Love, in Fate's dark meshes caught. Self-executioner, does but Death's will ! T 2 276 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; When Romeo sealed, with that impressive kiss On Juliet's wax-soft hp, supposed bond Of dateless love, misjudging, with Youth's fond Self-trust, alike the treachery which is In things extrinsic, as that worse, of his Unknowing heart, which looketh not beyond ; Death, all-unseen, heard Love and Hope respond, And signed, with their aye-cursive and remiss, His fast-bind signature ! And while their faint And airy tracings, light and flowery, Servile to all, yet (fresh) so free from taint, He dims and blurs, he brings out to the eye That other Ax^zA (writ, the7i, under restraint, (183) Invisible), ncnv all too legibly ! TIME AND CHANGE. The idlest of all cobwebs which the brain Of Man, into the Future his vain Thought Projecting (like his own brief shadow, 'thwart The space before him on some sunset-plain, Its end still nearing as it length doth gain), Spins and conceits, is that Time may be caught In legal cobwebs, fly-like meshed, enwrought In such poor threads, which break with their own strain. The mighty Proteus changes while we think To hold him with entails, endowments fast, Under our very eyes ; and if we wink, Hut " forty winks," lo and behold ! he's past, A seven-league stride beyond us ; the Law's ink Scarce dry ; our works, like chaff", behind him cast ! Serve thou thy own time then, with living hand ; And think not on the days which are to come To lay the ^' Dead Hatid ;" so to strike them dumb ; With their own voice — a voice, too, of command — They speak, and thy dead speech not understand. Kings have long hands, they say, anc^large grasp some; But Time doth loose their hold, their touch benumb. And, like a dead thing, what their hearts had planned Falls from it into dust. Be wiser thou : Upon the anvil of the present time Strike while the iron's hot, while 'tis called " Novj : " Or done or doing. Lowly or Sublime, Life instant best is ; Time doth disallow "Post-Obits;" "discounts" largely anyhow ! OR, MOODS OF MIND. 277 TRUTH AT ALL COST, AND AT THE COST OF ALL ! O terrible, Medusa-like, thy look, When, in thy naked majesty of mien. And face to face, without disguise or screen To temper it (without which few can brook. Of mortal eyes, thy searching gaze, which shook Belshazzar on his throne), O Truth, thou'rt seen ; And all that's False upwitherest with thy keen. Fierce light, that smites and beats on straight and crook ! Alas ! there is a terror in thine eyes. Beyond their wont when I on thee did dote In youth ; and, though love still o'er fear doth rise, They scare with meanings which I scarce dare note. So in loved looks we mark, with dread surprise, The wandering thought, in the mind's eye the mote ! LIFE AS A WHOLE. First when Man's life behind him lies entire. Yet all-foreshortened in brief retrospect, Much like a skeleton which we dissect Cold, scientific ; — for the eye of fire Blank sockets ; bones for flesh and warm desire ; — Doth he it as a Whole view and connect, And comprehend its variable aspect, Its Janus-look ; Hope, Memory ; Lower, Higher ! As Satan Peter Schlemihl's shadow rolled (184) In little compass up, he huddles all In Memory's grasp, so colourless and cold Most of it seems, so little left, so small. Each part doth gain and lose ; young ekes out old, Old young ; the Enduring the Ephemeral. Not unlike some phantasmagoria He in a fashion views it ; laughs amain At some thereof, at much against the grain ; Holds himself at arm's length, and turns away From Self in wonder, as a stranger may ; So little present, past Self knows again : " Such was I : did I so?'^ he asks with pain : A laughing Devil, whispering, seems to say " TvStQi aeavTov ! " So now, near his end He sees full-length in mirror of the Past His very Self, and whither all doth tend. What disproportioned seemed stands out at last Duly foreshortened, with the rest doth blend. One touch, one shadow more, already cast, The picture needs, Death gives, Man's foe and friend. 278 STONES FROM THE QUARRY; THE STEAM-ENGINE, Off, ye Mastodons, Megalosauroi vast And monstrous, Nature's ruder tentatives ; Her clumsier essays, of which nought survives But fossil-bones —