?iedu4es aud TjmiptouUs THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES PRELUDES AND SYMPHONIES Selkirk : Geo. Lewis and Co., Printers. PRELUDES AND SYMPHONIES BY OLIVER GREY, Author of "RHYMES AND RHAPSODIES," Sic. London : GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LTD. New York : E. P. BUTTON & CO. 1905. The Author rfseives all rights of nproduction and translation. Pit f Zo (^tjerif. 85SGS4 L'amour es la vido, La vido es l'amour; L'amour nous convido A cuie li flour. Theodore Aubanel. TlERE'S a song for the merry, A dirge for the sad, Wild blossoms of cherry That make the heart glad. For hours of dreaming When May-time is here, Marsh-marigolds gleaming. Your fancy to cheer: For lost love a strewing Of roses and yew, And for poor heart's undoing A garland of rue: For friendship the flowers Of rosemary sweet: For Love's happy hours White violets meet: For Winter's cold chiding Black ivy to crown The wine-cup's abiding. And Beauty's renown: But unless of your favour. My Lady, they gain, Their scent 's without savour, The song is in vain. CONTENTS. PAGE. Songs for the Seasons:— Ver Victris i Moods ■ 3 Fancy Free 5 Where Catkins Wave 6 First Tidings 7 Waiting 8 The Merry May-Time g Prima Vera lo Grata Vice Veris 12 In Old Provence 13 Gaudete i^^ The March Wind 15 Love's Return 17 The Call of Spring 19 For Remembrance 20 O Shepherd, Stay 21 Digne en Provence ;2 Tempora Mutantur 25 The Magic of May 27 Sweet, It is May 32 CONTENTS. PAGE. Songs for the Seasons (continued). At the Dawn 33 At Godstow 34 Invitation to the River 36 Beside the River 38 Under the Greenwood Tree 40 A Summer Night 41 By Sonning Bridge 43 Farewell to the Roses 45 The Fall of the Leaf .47 In the Old Garden 49 Vanitas Vanitatum 51 Christmas Roses • -54 February 55 Upon a Lark Singing in Winter 56 To the Thrush 57 The Tale of the Tree 61 Classic Fancies; — The Magic Grammar 79 Dance of the Nymphs in the Cave of Pan .... 83 Theocritus in Sicily 85 The Poet's Grave 87 At the Setting of the Pleiades 88 CONTENTS. PAGE. Classic Fancies (continued). Persephone 89 Pan 91 My Lady of Dreams 93 After the Greek of Agathias 95 Song of the Children of Rhodes 96 Her Jewelled Pendant . . 98 The Unchanging Gods 99 A Dream of Bath io2 A Dedication to Artemis io8 The Book of Belle Marquise :— Belle Marquise My Lady of Snows Love's Coronal Trans Mare Sweet Seventeen Queen of the May A Morning Song Amor Redivivus Love's Magnet Love, the Traitor Madonna Mia Matins . Dawn HI 113 114 "5 116 117 119 121 122 124 126 127 128 sii. CONTENTS. PAGE. The Book of Belle Makouise (contintied). Flowers of the Wind 129 Night in the Woods 131 Rose d'Amour 132 Love's Enchantment 133 Love and the Stars 135 Hearts' Communion 137 Some Day 138 Apres ■ 139 Reverie 140 Lost Love 143 The Passing of Love 143 A Dirge 144 Threnody 145 Across the Stream 146 Tecum 148 Hereafter 149 Love's Passing 150 Love and Hope 151 Envoi 156 JIooDS AND Measures : — The Dance of the Fairies 159 On a Little Turquoise Frog 161 To Laurence and Angelina 163 CONTENTS. PAGE. Moods and Measures (continved). In Corsica 165 Sunrise in the Val d'Anniviers 166 The Winding Way 167 Love and Faith 169 The New Argonauts 171 Sanctuary 174 Broken Melodies 175 Quousque Tandem 177 Onward 17S In the Shadows 180 A Spring Day at Freshwater 182 Sonnets : — Ubique , . 189 To My Absent Love 190 Cynthia Singing igi Pansies 192 My True Mistress 193 In the Temple 194 To Horrick 195 The Same 196 The Same 197 In Praise of Isis . ig8 Spirit of Hellas 199 xiv. CONTENTS. Sonnets (continued). page. Le Coeur Ldger 200 Hyeres 201 Early Spring 202 Excelsior 203 Full Summer 204 Frustra 205 Blue and Gold 206 My Lady of the Violin 207 Sleeplessness 208 Sunset 209 Forgotten Poets 210 In London 21 x Surgit Amari Aliquid 212 The Christmas Child • . . 213 Parting 214 The Old, Old Love 215 Heartsease 216 Beaulieu 217 The Last Sunset 218 So Soon 219 Consolation 220 Lux Tenebris 221 Realisation 222 Finis : 223 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. VER VICTRIX. ■you ask me why I sing- ■*■ Of Spring-, And why, when dark the days. My lays Are all of April flowers. Nay, ask the Lover, who Doth woo With service true his Fair, What rare Sweet influence rules his hours ; Or ask the Mother mild. Whose child Laug-hs in her happy arms, What charms Bind her with magic powers ; Or ask the silver Moon What boon Draws her towards the sea. That she Deserts her lofty towers, SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. And stoops to kiss the waves, And craves Their dim communion ; Ask on What ceaseless quest the Rill Murmurs beneath the leaves, And weaves Light rhapsodies of song- Among The green folds of the hill. Mother, and Regent white Of Night ; Lover and Stream, as I, Reply : " Love, with his master-skill, Moulds us, and with his spells Compels Those whom he holds in thrall Their all To render to his will." MOODS. MOODS. Vl/'EARY was yesterday ! The wind of a sullen sky Crept shivering- by, Sombre, wistful, and gray ; And the dreary, pitiless rain At the window pane Struggled and tossed, Till the world was lost In a blind mist of tears. Love, overwhelmed by fears. Turned from his peerless quest ; All that was fairest, best. Lapped in the dim despair, Shadowed everywhere : While through the land went the moan of the wind. Like the threnody Of hearts that cry For a joy they never may find. SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. II. O, but to-day is sweet ! The clouds in the high blue sky- Shimmer and fly Like winged vessels fleet ; And, from the box-tree hedge At the garden's edge, Bursts on my sense Earth's frankincense : While in the cherry croft, Swung in the bloom aloft. He of the clarion throat, The thrush, with his bold strong note. Apostle of Hope, new-born, Cries, in the sunny morn : Love 's on the road, with his retinue, April and Youth And the maiden Truth. Will ye not join them too?" I FANCY FREE. FANCY FREE. QOUND me no sad-string-ed elegy, "*~^ But a lyric light, and gay As the linnet's call in the elm tree tall, To greet the first spring day. The mourning clouds give place to mirth. Love, cast your weeds away ; For the West Wind throws her bridal snows Over the virgin may. Give me a kingdom of wide green earth, Spangled with morning dew. And a fancy free as the honey bee In the depth of the speedwell blue. Or know you a better philosophy Than this our life to cheer — A heart that is young, and a song well sung In the sweet of the budding year? SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. WHERE CATKINS WAVE. | r>RIGHT oriflamme of Spring ! Even as I took my way Hard by the coppice gray, And heard the branches ring With joyful song ; Lo ! underneath the trees, Where the lush hazels grew, Gaily the catkins flew Banners upon the breeze — A sprightly throng. As though the minstrels, who First to the north take flight When the pale aconite Breaks into gold anew, And daisies peer, Far off had met the maid Our Lady debonair, And from her flaxen hair Pilfered a gleaming braid. Sad hearts to cheer. FIRST TIDINGS. FIRST TIDINGS. \ FTER so many days of gloom, ■^^ After so many tears, See, where the great cloud galleons loom Across the windy spheres ; Argosies out of the teeming west, Sailing afar on a golden quest ; Bearing to leaguered lands and lean, Prisoned in Winter's grip, The promise of plenty, and, bright between The length of each stately ship, As bowed to the wild March wind they fly, A glittering sea is the azure sky. This is the time of tidings fair. The day of the homeward borne. When the lark, high poised in the liquid air. Shrill sentinel of the morn. Sounds aloft from his aery towers The coming of Spring and the rosy Hours. SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. WAITING. f^URE and sweet is the earth, and fair As a bride in her first adorning, With her warm brown breast to the heaven bare, And the breath of the amorous West in her hair, Fresh with the kiss of the morning. O, the world is beautiful, Dear, in March, When the last snow melts in the hollows, When a crimson mist o'erspreads the larch. And the dust, whirled high to heaven's arch. The flickering sunlight follows ; When the streamlet mocks the lean-stemmed sedge, And lifts its voice in laughter ; When emeralds flash in the bramble hedge, And the willows are rich with the downy pledge And promise of gold hereafter. The lapwings cry the meadows through. Among the daisies roaming ; The black rooks circle in the blue : But I am thinking, thinking of you With the sunny springtide homing. THE MERRY MA Y-TIME. THE MERRY MAY-TIME. I'LL sing you a song- of bells and joy, The song of a girl, and the song- of a boy, A youth afraid, and a maiden coy. Who met in the merry ring-time. I'll sing you a song: of meads aglow. Where Mary-buds gold and cowslips blow. In the land by the strand that all true lovers know, The land of the merry spring-time. I'll sing: you the songr the west winds bring-. The song of the hyacinth bells a-swing-. The song of delight the nightingales sing-, When moon 's at full in the hay-time. I'll sing you the song of care forgot, The song of the blue forget-me-not, The song: of the shaft the Bow-boy shot At a heart in the merry May-time. 10 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. PRIMA VERA. A N azure sea, the castle moat ^^ With myosotis glows ; The bluebell dons his dainty coat, And gciy the speedwell blows ; But what are all their pretty dyes Beside the blue of C3'nthia's eyes? The jessamine whose essence drifts Warm from the wind's embrace ; The summer rose that blushing lifts Toward the sun her face ; How is their sweetness naught beside Her scented lips' imperious pride. I heard the lark rejoicing strew The sky with pearls of song. The nightingale his love review In raptures deep and long But when she raised her voice as I, They hushed their shamefaced minstrelsy. PRIMA VERA I saw tilt! sun, when morning broke, Sweep o'er the dewy grass, And scarce the daffodils awoke To see the pageant pass ; But when she came they danced and sang, And thousand elfin trumpets rang. I watched the moon descend her throne Beneath the ocean's brim ; The pale stars, through the midnight blown. Burnt desolate and dim ; So in my heart her sovereign light Alone can make the darkness bright. 12 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. GRATA VICE VERIS. 'T^HERE comes a day, hard on the laggard March, When skies are blue, and fleecy clouds a-flying, When with the wind the highways crack and parch, And loud the cuckoo's mate is crying. The dustman East has swept the marshes clean, The shredded ensigns from the beeches torn ; And breaking buds, like emeralds, shine between The pearls that deck the virgin thorn. Among the green pavilions of the meads The larks are mustering — a minstrel crew ; And deep the hive within the palm bloom speeds The labour of the year anew. All day along the furrow gleams the share. And parent rooks attend the patient plough. Whose voices, through the fresh earth-scented air Answer the nestlings in the bough. And lo ! where amber-tressed daffodils Dance to the sun, and woo his fitful gleams. Love's magic influence the morning thrills. And o'er the world triumphant streams. IN OLD PROVENCE. jj IN OLD PROVENCE. TN old Provence, in old Provence, The voice of Spring: is crying-. And, with the joy of life intense, The swallows blithe are flying- Among- the silvered olive trees, Across the rose-flushed mountain skrees ; Winter is dying-, dying-. In old Provence, in old Provence, Anemones are fading, And, hung- in murmurous suspense, The g-olden bees are lading- Rich bags of treasure from the thyme. And amaryllis bells that chime To south winds' serenading. In old Provence, in old Provence, The earth, herself renewine. Wakes from her slumber deep, and dense The paths with April's strewing Of rosemary, and cistus ga}-. Invite the weary heart to stay. And sing to Grief's undoing. 14 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. In old Provence, in old Provence, Beneath the almond showers. Spring- moves with fairy steps, a sense Of beauty through the flowers, And with her magic charms away Dark memories of yesterday. And Winter's dreary hours. GAUDETE. CEE how the daffodils Shake out their golden frills ! March winds the meadow sweep: Nothing in Nature dies. Autumn sings lullabies ; Sadly the snowflakes fall ; But at the appointed hour Spring wakes the sleeping flower. Lambs in the folding leap : Naught of decay is here, So, with the new-born year, Make we glad festival. THE MARCH WIND. 15 THE MARCH WIND. nOISTEROUS wind of March, Wake the primroses Where the slim hazels arch O'er slumbering closes : Strenuous yeoman strong-, Through the meads shouting ; Fountains of dust along Silver roads spouting ; Brother of hail and sleet, Hard on thy courses, Over the ocean, fleet As the white horses. Racing and borne away. Who knoweth whither ? Scattering the salt sea-spray Hither and thither ; Joining the daffodils' Jubilant dances ; Scouring the far-seen hills' Clean-swept expanses ; i6 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Cheering- with lusty voice Farmstead and byre, Where the young lambs rejoice, And gorse is afire ; Onward with gusty wings Nothing can tire ! Fill the wide earth with Spring's Peerless desire ! I LOVE'S RETURN. 17 LOVE'S RETURN. T WANDERED in the sunny morn : With sounding- horn, March through the clans^^ing branches rushed, And swayed and crushed The leafless woods. All swept and clean, The palace green Of God's good earth Echoed the mirth Of Spring's divine awaking. Bright celandines like topaz shone, And, strung upon The hawthorn bough, as rubies red. The young buds shed Their winter hoods ; And with the balm Of dusted palm The air was sweet — An incense meet For happy bridal making. i8 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. The wild birds raised a tuneful strain To greet again The travellers o'er far-off seas ; The wandering bees, With music boon, Made undertone ; And, fitful blown From cote and fold, The sheep-bells told How Love and Spring were mating. And to the universal song. Vibrant and strong, My heart made answer, for I knew, Dear Love, that you Were coming soon, Since, where our last Sweet meeting past, For you, behold. In ranks of gold. The daffodils were waiting. THE CALL OF SPRING. xg THE CALL OF SPRING. pvAFFODILS are fading fast, ^"'^ Mourned with many a dewy tear: Come, ere April-tide be past! When their cowls the chestnuts cast, Nigfhtingales sing trental clear : Daffodils are fading fast ! But from Winter's crumbling mast Orchids red their pennons rear : Come, ere April-tide be past ! Of the flowers wilt thou be last. Who among them hast no peer ? Daffodils are fading fast ! In his greenwood palace vast, Waiteth Love his mistress dear : Come, ere April-tide be past ! Time is an iconoclast ; Soon will meads be brown and sere ; Daffodils are fading fast : Come, ere April-tide be past ! ao SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. FOR REMEMBRANCE. T N the spring, in the spring-,- When the bonny jonquil glows, When all the woodlands sing. And the bursting chestnut throws To the wind its winter cerements, And the bridal hawthorns ring With the blackbird's fond endearments ; When the daffadillies swing Golden bells with a chime For April's merry greeting. For the resurrection time. And lovers' happy meeting : In the spring, in the spring, Let the birds that northward go This tender message bring : " When red thy roses blow, O veering heart and fickle. Wilt thou forget the flowers Love garnered with his sickle In sunny southern bowers?" O SHEPHERD, STAY. 2r O SHEPHERD, STAY. r\ SHEPHERD, stay ! ^~^ The apple bloom Will fade away ; The hours of gloom Silence the nightingale ; And from the May, Whose bridal veil Shines fair and gay, The lustre pale. O Shepherd, stay ! O Shepherd, stay ! While it be spring. And blithely play Your pipes, and sing Beneath the willow shade. Short is the day Of beauty's prime. Brief the delay Of winter time. O Shepherd, stay ! SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. DIGNE EN PROVENCE. T O ! the fresh willow buds, ^ Amber and chrysoprase, Gleam through the sunny haze ; And where the full stream floods All the green meadows through, Kingcups of metal fine. Brimmed with the morning dew, Flash in the light divine ; And, with their essencp rare. Thyme bloom and rosemary Cense the bright April air : While twittering swallows hold- Shrill parley with the bold Intruding tenantry Of winter-folk that cry Clamorous from the nest : And hark ! the drowsy song, Where saffron-belted bees, Borne on their honied quest. In the white branches throng. O Love, is it so long That, through such pleasaunces, With careless happy feet DIGNE F.N PROVENCE. 23 Passed we, until the call Of the great world outside Was but the distant beat Of far-off waves, that glide To slumber-shores, and fall In stricken melody Over the lone sea-beach ? Is it so long since I Watched the pale moon unveil, And arms of ivorj'^ reach Down to the silent vale. If haply still, upon Strewing-s of wind-flowers set, Love-lorn Endymion Were sleeping yel ? Nig-ht wafts her balmy sighs As, passing slowly now F"rom wooded brow to brow. Vainly her search she plies : And I, alas ! as she, Drawn by fond memories. Visit each shadowy spot. Seeking-, but finding- not, Wistful, with weary eyes. As one who turns to greet 2+ SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. After long- years' suspense Some well-remembered place, Where, in the days of grace And long'-lost ninocence, Life was so sweet. Blushes the landscape fair, Where the peach orchards glow, And, all in bridal snow. Lace-frilled, and debonair. With myriad pearl}- showers. Once more the almond flowers. O, can it be that Love And the dear time of Youth Are but a mock of Truth? That, while the stars above Ever their lamps renew. And, 'neath the April blue, Once more the wood and lawn Burgeon witli beauty bright, Love re-awakens not : A flower by Spring forgot, Looked for in vain, in vain ; A fire that with the dawn Fades and dissolves ; a light Never to shine again ? TEMPORA MUTANTUR. 25 TEMPORA MUTANTUR. r IKE silver lances, stately rank The reeds beside the stream, And, starry-golden, from the bank The Mary-flowers gleam. And with the tender birchen green Mix in the sunny water's sheen. No sound within this fairy spot Breaks on my reverie. Save where in j'onder tangled plot The linnet sings for glee. Or, lapping softly at the edge. The brook makes music in the sedge. All here is peace. O, would that I Such calm contentment knew, And, strong in her philosophy. With Nature might pursue The joy of life ; in her made pure, And in the Truth of Truth secure. 26 SOXGS FOR THE SEA SOS S. Once, long ago, ere yet the spell Of base things on me lay, She to my raptured soul would tell, Soft with the breath of May, The secret of that perfect peace. Beyond all human art to lease. But rarely now her spirit cheers The sadness of my hours ; No more my eager fancy hears Love's voice among the flowers ; Old times are changed, and ne'er again May I recapture their sweet strain. THE MAGIC OF MAY. THE MAGIC OF MAY.' A S in the early days of spring The buds their silken sheaths unfold.^ So bloom the Jloivers of memory, And, from the ashes sere and cold. The cherished thoughts of days gone by Sweet comfort to the spirit bring. Well I remember the happy day When I drove from Oxford city, Past stately college, and cloister gray. In the fresh of the morn with my Pretty. Fanned by the breeze, the golden curls Of laburnum fluttered free. And the lilac petals, a shower of pearls, Drifted upon the lea. Over the earth, the light white haze Danced in diaphanous sheen, And the water-meadows were all ablaze With chequers of gold and green. 28 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Loud the larks carolled. Ah ! never ag'aiu Will that song for us be sung ; Yet, scarce we heard the immortal strain, For, louder, with silver tongue, Love's clarion through all nature thrilled ; And, what though time be fleet, With the magic of May our hearts were filled, And the world lay at our feet. We were so steeped in the glamour of youth. With the sun in the blue above ; For our lips had touched the chalice of truth, And we drank of the honey of love. Bee that deep in the flower Sweet nectar sips, That Is my darling's dower. The sweet of her lips. Glimmer of rose on the peaks At eventide, That is the flush of her cheeks With roses dyed. THE MAGIC OF MAY. 29 Vision of light in the heart Of the peerless beam, Tremor of eyes thou art, That brighter gleam. Ocean's eternal plaint Told to the night, Thou art the echo faint Of my heart's delight. Stars on the infinite throne Of the heaven above, Ye may measure alone The depth of my love. So we came to the nunnery walls, by the stream, That kept o'er Rosamund ward. And dreamed again the forgotten dream Of the lily maid and her lord. And her eyes, as they looked in mine, shone bright, Like stars through the April rain. When I whispered the story of Love's despite, And tears shed all in vain. 30 SOKGS FOR THE SEASONS. Then over the hills where Woodstock sleeps In the peace of ancient ways, As one who muses content, nor weeps For the storm of lustier days. There in the old-world inn awhile We sang- when our feast was done, And the rose at the window looked in to smile. And tell us of summer beg^un. Then hand in hand, 'neath Blenheim's shade, Throug-h the g'ates, as children g'ay, We passed to a bower in a fairy g-lade. Alone with the spirit of May. Beeches aloft, Sing' soft, sing- soft : It is spring-, And I bring- You a flower ; Under your shade Comes my own dear Maid To be Queen Of this g-reen Wood bower. THE MAGIC OF MAY. 31 Sing-, lark, to the sk}' Your anthem hig-h ; Sing-, thrush, In the lush May weather ; For a song shall be sung For the world that is young, And the day That we play Together. Man}' a rose since then has blown ; We are sundered as stars on high That meet a moment in heaven alone. And part for eternity. But the time between is as naught ; the mind Moves over the days forgot. Seeking- the one-of-all to find, And the others reckons not. Long-, long ag-o ! But unfaded yet Is the sun of that day of days, And green is the garden of memory set Where you shall be Queen always. 32 SOIjGS FOR THE SEASONS. SWEET, IT IS MAY. CWEET, it is May ; Now, while the zephyrs play Among the bluebell spires, Whispering-, let us alone Together go, And tend the sacred fires That bright upon Love's flower-decked altar glow. Sweet, it is May ; Come out with me and pray Beneath the hawthorn tree. That, even as her bridal wreath Doth but foreshow The fruit that is to be. So, one till death, Our souls may perfect grow. i A T THE DA WN. 33 AT THE DAWN. XJOW is the hour when the blackthorn stark Frills with the delicate foam Of snowflakes caught from cloudland dark, Where, lost in the windy dome Of highest heaven, the pinions gray Of Winter flutter, and melt away. Weave me a scarf of the blackthorn's lace, And a crown of the star-gold flower ; The diamond dews in crystal case, Meet for a fairy's dower ; And sprinkle me o'er with the magic chrism Distilled from the aery rainbow's prism. So shall my heart to the Spring be wed, And, immortal made as she, On the path of the morning wind be led To the realms of Poesy ; vSoaring aloft, on viewless wings, From the squalor and storm of earthly things. 34 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. AT GODSTOW. T^HE air is still, Lulled by the drowsy song- Of flower-encompassed bees, Whose echoes fill The sleeping noon, and throng- The heart with memories, Till clearer g^rows The far-off whispering' Of voices long forgot. And visions rise of those Whom, in their happy spring-. Fate pitied not. See, where the sun The river brim has kissed, The kingcups glimmer bright ; Yet, pale and dim Their radiance, through the mist Of tears that blind my sight. AT GODSTOW. How many a May They with their cloth of gold Have spread the meads in vain ! For, ne'er this way My Love that was of old Shall turn again. Yet, as the youth Of Spring immortal glows. With beauty unimpaired By winter's ruth, So, ever fair, she shows. Who with the flowers shared Their perfect hour Of gracious affluence, And on my being shed A sweeter dower Than all the frankincense Of roses red. 36 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. INVITATION TO THE RIVER. A BOVE the tangled river weed, -^ Where, beams of light, the fishes speed. The halcyons dart and gleam ; And many a downy convoy sails Beneath the weeping-willow trails Upon the crystal stream. Come out ! the bees invade the lime, The banks are gay with loosestrife, thyme, And white convolvulus ; While lilies fair, with golden een. Peep out their shining leaves between, To smile, dear Love, on us. And, where the murmuring waters meet, Our dainty Lady Meadowsweet Puts on her wedding veil. As round her close, an escort proud Of gallant guards, the poppies crowd, In suits of fiery mail. INVITATION TO THE RIVER. 37 And, lo ! the dazzling masquerade Of bridesmaid butterflies, arrayed In silks of iris sheen. That o'er the hayfields' green expanse A never-ending morris dance In honour of their Queen. And what though melts the bridal noon Into the eventide so soon, And fade the summer hours, Yet may we gather, ere the day In rosy splendour flees away, Wreaths of immortal flowers — The flowers divine of memory That shall not wither with July, But, ever radiant, shed Their charm upon us, when the hand Of winter sears the riverland, And all its joys are dead. 38 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. BESIDE THE RIVER. 'TTHE sun sets in a rosy haze Beyond the level line of meads ; The breeze upon the water strays, And whispers to the noddingf reeds ; While echoing chimes, far down the stream, Sound faint as music in a dream. Upon a willow that inclines Toward the river, silent now. My Lilian sits, and golden shines The tangled hair about her brow : A very Dryad of the wood. Embodied in fair maidenhood. So pensive now who lately went A joyful spirit through the flowers ; I wonder with what innocent And happy thoughts the evening dowers Her fairy fancy, and what stores Of new delights her mind explores. BESIDE THE RIVER. 39 To her, perhaps, the waters bring A message that I may not hear, And to her pure imagining The secret of the hour is clear ; Since only those whose souls are white May read in Nature's book aright. Dream on, dear child, and I will pray For you the greatest boon ot" all : That age may never steal away Youth's perfect faith, whate'er befall, And that your heart, as years go by, May grow in sweet simplicity. 40 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 1 TPON a flowery bank I lay *^ In noontide slumber drowsing : No sound was there, save linnets gay Among the green oaks housing. The air was still, and on my sense, Across the beanfield streaming. Sweet Nature did her balm dispense, And mingled with my dreaming ; Until upon my lips the scent. Outpoured in magic fashion, With all the wealth of summer blent, And June's pervading passion, Drew softly into shape and form, Like honey-drops in making. And then I knew your kisses warm Had wooed me to awaking. A SUMMER NIGHT. 41 A SUMMER NIGHT. QTILL is the summer night, "^"^ With heavy memories laden, And lo ! in silent flight, The silver-haired Moon-Maiden Moves, with her spangled retinue. Across the deep ethereal blue. Hidden in distant meads. Among their scented mazes, The corn-crake shakes the beads From phantom ox-eyed daisies, And, watchman of the dreaming flowers, Tells out the passing of the hours. All else in calm immense Night's drowsy opiates lap. Till from my inner sense The circling fetters snap. And, raised on fancy's wings, I seem To touch the world's remoter scheme. 42 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Far off life's discords sound Like storms of ocean spent, As, with the Immortals crowned. Through all the firmament My soul the star-girt dome assails, And highest heaven triumphant scales. And what though soon must I, Like Lucifer, be cast From such high ecstasy Back to the earth at last ; Still shall my spirit feed upon This glorious revelation. BY SONNING BRIDGE. 43 BY SONNING BRIDGE. A PEACEFUL Sunday afternoon •^^ 111 boon September weather ; A garden fair ; a basket chair : I and my Thoughts together. The dragonflies with rainbow wings Above the sedges quiver, Where close the old red arches fold The golden-bosomed river. Upon the air a thousand scents The fruited orchards utter, And memories, like butterflies, Across my day-dreams flutter. On such a day, by yonder bank — Ah me ! how time is flying ! — A hand as light as rose-leaves white Within my own was lying. And what cared I for skies of blue, Or sweet of roses sunny ? For me her eyes were heaven, her sighs The buds' essential honey. 44 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. God made no fairer flower than she For that green mead's adorning', Where poets sing love's burgeoning, And spring's immortal morning. I see her now, so stately tall, A lily crowned with glory ; The birds awoke whene'er she spoke, The winds took up their story ; And Love, the Master-Lord, was all The burden of their song, And she, the Queen of peerless mien, Whose soul could do no wrong. The vision fades ! Alas ! how long Since in that magic weather We wandered. Dear ! How lonely here I and my Thoughts together ! FAREWELL TO THE ROSES. 45 FAREWELL TO THE ROSES. TN fleeting showers the dead leaves fall, -'• The lawns are cloth of gold, The robins in the laurel call. The evening wind breathes cold. But faithful roses scatter yet, Beneath the southern wall. The frankincense of fond regret For days beyond recall — The roses which adorned the hours When, crowned with amethyst, And garlanded with summer flowers, Love kept with us the tryst ; And, as beneath the stars they dreamed. Upon our hearts, like dew, Distilled such thoughts as sweeter seemed Than ever lovers knew. 46 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Come, then, into the garden fraug-ht With memory's dear delight, Ere, in the sunset's glory caug'ht, They glimmer into night ; And let us bid farewell to those Who were companions true, Lest, as the spring that comes and goes. They deem us faithless too. THE FALL OF THE LEAF. 4/ THE FALL OF THE LEAF. A UTUMN, with a magic tincture, ^~^ Red the cherry steeps ; Girdled with a fiery cincture, Through the land she sweeps, Onward flying. Sighing, crying: "Summer, Lady Summer sleeps. " Dusk and sere upon the mountains, Lo ! the storm-clouds lower ; Like the spray of wind-blown fountains, Where the poplars cower, Leaves are streaming, Teeming, gleaming. In a never-ending shower. Once upon the hills we wandered When the world was young ; Ah ! the happy hours we squandered All the flowers among ! Hearts unthinking Linking, drinking Love's elixir as we sung. 48 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Past and finished is the story, As a sun that 's set, But the memory of its glory Blinds my vision yet. Deeper flushing. Hushing, crushing Back the tears of vain regret. IN THE OLD GARDEN. 49 IN THE OLD GARDEN. AS down the paths with leaves bestrewed I wander sick at heart, The west wind shares my solitude, And sighs with me apart ; While every tree and withered stem Wails back a mournful requiem. Borne on the breeze, now soft, now loud, I hear the turret-chime. And memories through the twilight crowd Of that fair summer time When roses round the dial clung, And you, and I, and Love were young. Then scarce we marked the moments pass From morn to vesper bell, Scarce marked the ruth upon the grass Where June's red petals fell ; For all the world besides was naught While Love his master-lesson taught. 50 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Wake, bells, again ! that once for me Rang out a merry peal. Wake ! Let the echo of your glee Upon my senses steal, And may this melancholy find Sweet solace in your voices kind. Nay, mocking is your knell, and cold ; Not with so drear a note The golden summer hours you told : But now your echoes float Like waves upon the lonely shore Where Hope lies shipwrecked evermore. And O, the lawns are desolate Where grew the lilies tall ; No blackbird whistles to his mate From out the ivied wall ; And ne'er again these ways among Love's anthem shall for me be sung. V A NIT AS VANITATUM. 51 VANITAS VANITATUM. "T^HE swallow flies, The sunset dies, The wind is waking' shrill, The beech lets down Her tresses brown, The meads are sere and still. Lord of the iron will, Winter of thorned holly. Whose echoing dirges fill Village, and twilight town. With ruth of spring and folly, Your long-drawn melanchol}' Shall ne'er with sorrow drown My heart, while Beauty's eyes And old-time memories The wine-cup crown. A southern sk}', A white moon high Above an avenue Of sleeping plane ; 52 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. The plaintive strain , Of hidden streams, and you, With eyes of tenderer blue Than velvet dusk of night, Threading mysterious through The fretted beams that rain The road with liquid light ; A moving sprite. Now seen, now lost again, Now far, now glimmering nigh, Like some pale butterfly In mazes vain. Illusive, rare As empty air. Maiden and fairy sweet, In dim wood pent, Embodiment Of spring and the west wind fleet, Whose dripping silver feet Kiss the young buds to birth, And, rippling o'er the wheat, On a joyous mission bent, With eddies of laughing mirth. Humour the earth, VAN IT AS VANITATUM. Till the gaunt Mother, spent With the labour of days that were, Loosed once more of her care, Smiles, all content. An idle dream ! Hope's transient gleam Lights Fancy's realm alone. For all my prayer, That spirit fair Into the dark is flown. And, hark ! the message blown By the night-winds that pass : "The shadowy vision shown Was Love, the wanderer, A phantom in a glass. That leaves, alas ! The heart of comfort bare. And makes the sordid scheme Of life more sorry seem. As he is fair." 54 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. CHRISTMAS ROSES. /'^HRISTMAS roses, pure as snow, ^^ Delicate as hoar-frost rime, Yet, with golden hearts aglow. Shining in your virgin prime, Fair as Charity you show In the churlish winter time. Maids were ye in days gone by To the cloister dedicate, There to wither, wane, and die ; But, for pity of your fate. Into flowers of January Changt^d was your cold estate. FEBRUARY. 55 FEBRUARY. NOW swell the coral almond buds ; The hazel catkins slim Loose out their golden curls, where floods The river to the brim. Bullfinches in the orchard flaunt Their glossy livery ; The rooks once more the elm trees haunt : Saint Valentine is nigh. Now crocuses, with glimmering sheen Of lance-heads, pierce the mould ; A thousand ruffs of Lincoln-green The aconites unfold. The black gnats flicker in the sun, Among the purpling thorns ; You 'd think the spring-time had begun, So loud they wind their horns. But 'tis not spring, though who shall say The rosy light of morn Is nothing worth beside the day In beauty's fulness born 56 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. UPON A LARK SINGING IN WINTER. T WANDERED in the fields forlorn: All gaunt the trees, and bare the earth The west wind from the sun had tuii The sullen wrack, and, upward borne Towards the blue, with sacred mirth, A sky-lark fluttered through the morn. Sweet singer, first the heart to cheer, Before the missel-thrush has tried His stormy pipes, or, chanting clear, The blackbird greets the budding year, Thou, to God's service sanctified, Biddest the world His message hear. O bird of hope, whose anthem fine Is something more than mortal song, Pour from the heart of things divine A deeper comfort into mine ; And, held aloft on pinions strong, Draw thou my soul to Heaven's shrine. TO THE THRUSH. 57 o TO THE THRUSH. WE are weary. Winter drear » Still holds the earth in thrall ; The snowflakes wander far and near, And, 'neath their frozen pall, The baby buds are wrapped in sleep, While you Love's steadfast vigil keep : You, faithful seer of hope supreme, The high-priest of the Spring, Whose faith is no illusive dream, Whose office is to sing Immortal April, that shall bring To all the world sweet comforting. And, haply, in those kinder days. Wet February's boon, When, mirrored in the full-brimmed ways, Trembles the crescent moon. Your voice, upraised in cadence strong, As bells that call to evensong, 58 SONGS FOR THE SEASONS. Shall preach the evang-el of the wood, Designed, ere creeds were made, To charm our grief with promise good, And wake in hearts afraid The greater knowledge from on High Of certain immortalit)'. For well you teach that flower and fall, The budding leaf, and sere, Are, even as we, ephemeral, And have short tarrying here ; Yet move, like us, for ever on From change to change in unison ; From dark to dawn, from death to life, From sleep to sleep again ; Through ages long of stress and strife, Through sunshine, cloud, and rain ; Toward the one and perfect goal, Where Spring Immortal waits the soul. THE TALE OF THE TREE. THE TALE OF THE TREE. 6r THE TALE OF THE TREE. At the north end of our village there stood a wych elm tree. A ccording to reliable computation it was about two hundred years old in 189S, ivhen it fell. ■f ^HNTER and spring, ''■''■ Sunshine and rain ; Loud bells that sing Of joy and of pain ; Summer's delight, Autumn repose ; The hours in their flight. The fall of the rose : All I have se|n, In youth and in age ; Blue skies serene, The hurricane rage Of tempest and flood ; Lightnings that glance Through the wind-driven scud, And the legion-advance 62 THE TALE OF THE TREE. Of the black-armoured cloud, Whose arrows have plied My branches, and bowed But ne'er broken my pride. So have I known The wonders of God, And joyfully grown From the rain-cherished sod, From the seed in the earth. From the spring-time of youth, From the ring-time of mirth, To the beauty and truth And wisdom that years Alone can beget, Which sow not in tears. Nor reap in regret. THE TALE OF THE TREE. 63 II. The "Queen Anne's Head," dated 1703, loas so named out of com- pliment to Her Majesty, who changed horses there on the road to Windsor in that year. The Church K, toe 6tng, for f^c mercies ge ^ot^ B^otwn." And now the procession 's gone. The chords of the anthem cease, And I keep my watch alone, Alone in perfect peace. For I know that my end draws near ; My leaves are green no more, My branches are dry and sere, And the sap shrinks to the core. And ere the pitiful tears Of another Autumn weep. In the dust of all the years My weary limbs shall sleep. THE TALE OF THE TREE. 75 VI. "Il/INTER and Spring, Sunshine and rain, Wild bells that ring The New Year again, No more shall I mark By the song of your chime The dawn and the dark, And the fleeting of time. But thankful am I At the setting of sun. For 'tis easy to die When our work is well done. CLASSIC FANCIES. ( 'Aye St] xeXw Sid /xoi (pupdeaaa yevoLO. Sappho. THE MAGIC GRAMMAR. 79 THE MAGIC GRAMMAR. To Lilian learning Greek. 'X'HIS dull Grammar holds the keys ■*■ To the realms of poesy ; Glimmering cities, fairy seas Sleeping- 'neath a summer sky. Music sweeter than the birds In the amber morning make, Or the bells of upland herds, From its dusty depths shall wake. Tragedy, and Comic Muse, At the mazy syntax' end Wait for you, and you shall choose One or both to be your friend. When the tufted palms distil Luscious honey, and the bees Murmur low, our ears shall thrill With songs that charmed Euripides. 8o CLASSIC FANCIES. And the lonely waterfall, Echoing down the glen, for us Shall sound the solemn trumpet call Blown of old by ^schylus. While the winds that wander through The rustling pine-tree tops shall quire Symphonies that Sappho drew From her "lily-wreathed" lyre. We with Pericles shall walk Through the streets of Athens, see Temples hung with flowers, and talk In the " Stoa Poicile." We shall watch the incense rise To the marble architraves ; Hear the mystic prophecies Where the Pythian priestess raves ; See the rose-crowned vestals go, All in white, with silver rods, Marching, reverent and slow. Round the altars of the gods. THE MAGIC GRAMMAR. 8l We shall hear the talking- oaks In Dodona's leafy shade ; Sip the crystal stream that soaks Through the green Castalian glade. We shall hear the reed-pipe sweet Through the mellow sunset drift, As the dancers' rhythmic feet Thread Arcadian measures swift ; With Theocritus shall roam By the red Sicilian strand, While the Nereids of the foam Waft fresh kisses to the land. We shall hear the clash of steel, Aind the wail of foemen riven, As the Persian squadrons reel, Headlong to the ocean driven. We shall hear the battle hymn When the Spartan warriors pass Through the morning twilight dim, Led by stout Leonidas. 82 CLASSIC FANCIES. We shall hear the Chorus raise Pasans triumphant ; and the dirge Chanted to the hero's praise Where the funeral torches surge. Guardians of Thermopylae, For all time their voices sound ! Sons of Hellas, brave and free, With unfading laurel crowned. Visions all ! For in the dust Long have lain the gleaming fanes, Lizard-haunted, and the rust Bright Athena's armour stains. But, though things of beauty die. Noble deed and great endeavour, Sanctified by poesy. Live within the heart for ever. DANCE OF THE NYMPHS IN THE CA VE OF PAN. 83 DANCE OF THE NYMPHS IN THE CAVE OF PAN. From a marble in the British Museum. df^cpl dk ff6i, pvOfioio Kara Kporov, ^v9eov 'ix^os pTja-fficrdo} Ni//x0ats raiade fiedvdpidcnv. Alcaeus of Messene. TJERE, where the red pomegranate showers Upon the sunburnt grasses, Like spangled points of flame, her flowers, And o'er the hidden myrtle bowers The breath of summer passes ; Where, in the silence deeper made By distant waters' leaping-, Whose echoes die, as thoug-h afraid To break the enchantment of the glade Where Pan his watch is keeping- ; Hither, as daffodils that greet The spring-, with billowy dances, To sound of flute and cymbal sweet, A twinkling maze of arg-ent feet. The choric troop advances ; «4 CLASSIC FANCIES. And, like the amber evening- glow O'er lily meadows streaming-, Their saffron silken vestures flow In folds of wavering light, that show The silver 'neath them gleaming. Aloft their blooming garlands wave To greet the sacred portal, Where flames of spicy pinewood lave The altar in the mystic cave Of Pan, the god immortal. And deathless they, this lovely band, Of gods and men the pleasure, . For, on the breathing marble planned, They dance for ever, hand in hand, A never-ending measure. THEOCRITUS IN SICILY. THEOCRITUS IN SICILY. T SEE him pass into the dawn Across the cypress-sheltered close, Across the daisy-tinselled lawn, Ere from the beauty of the rose The sun has kissed the dewdrops dry That on her damask petals lie. Beside the sleeping huts he goes, Where lean the tunny-fishers' rods, To where, in the pale twilight, glows The guardian altar of the gods, Who, with a kindly blessing, greet The day's first suppliant at their feet. Now to his brow a hand he lifts. And, gazing o'er the burnished sea, Marks where the golden sunlight drifts Toward the cliffs of Sicily ; If, haply, down that pathway bright Should come the Muse, his heart's delight. 66 CLASSIC FANCIES. The night dews glisten on his fleece, And shine like jewels in his hair : A godlike son of ancient Greece, Divinely young, divinely fair. A lyre of beaten gold he swings. That takes the wind's harmonious wings, And moulds the music of the breeze. The murmur of the lapping wave, To soft ^olian cadences, Now loud and gay, now soft and grave ; And, with the moods of Nature one, Echoes in perfect unison. What though no more to these lone hills The wandering poet conieth nigh, Nor, on the enchanted air, distils The honey of sweet poesy ; Yet every flower that Summer wreathes The fragrance of his memory breathes. THE POET'S GRA VE. 87 THE POET'S GRAVE. PERCHANCE, beside the wide blue sea, Beneath the cliffs with mirage crowned, At breathless noon, within the sound Of waves that sang of old with thee. Thou dreamest dreams of Sicily. Dream on ! The cistus bloweth still ; Their bleating flocks the shepherds drive ; And, fragrant as the summer hive, A balmy breath the vines distil That all the air with incense fill. Dream on ! For still sweet memories throng This sunburnt earth, enwrapped in peace, Though mute the golden lyre of Greece ; And still the rustling pines prolong The echoes of thy rustic song. 88 CLASSIC FANCIES. AT THE SETTING OF THE PLEIADES. irepl ovcnv HXetdoos. ^P'HE Pleiades, the Sisters Seven, Are keeping watch from the towers of heaven ; Keeping their watch as long ago, When the dear gods walked the earth below ; Or moving, a bevy of maidens light, Through the velvet dusk of the summer night, Over the firs and the mountain snows. Mirrored, perchance, where the rivulet flows : Now dreaming awhile in the midnight cool At the scented fringe of some woodland pool ; Now floating away, and sinking ever As the red ripe fruits from the branches sever. And the veil of the autumn rain is drawn Over field and flood, over forest and lawn ; Fleeing away, with tears that seem On flower and leaf the diamonds' gleam — Tears for the ruth of beauty shed With the fall of the rose, and the summer sped. PERSEPHONE. 89. PERSEPHONE. COMETIMES in April evenings, '^^ When the storm has passed and died, Night on her dewy pinions brings A Vision glorified. Pale is her face as the sleeping flowers Beneath the white moon-rise ; Far streams her hair in misty showers, Shrouding her starry eyes. And, deep and full as the voice of the river, Her words through the twilight ring : " I am she who liveth for ever, The peerless, immortal Spring. " Far away in the halls of Death I heard the Mother's cry That sighed through the land of dreams, with the breath Of my deathless destiny. " And lo ! the wan-cheeked asphodel Flushed with a sudden ray That drew me up through the gates of Hell To the splendour of Life and Day. 90 CLASSIC FANCIES. " O Father Zeus, from thy stainless towers On the snows of Olympus, mark How the old World smiles to her baby flowers, And sings once more with the lark. "And what though my temples tall be riven. And the fires on my altar wane, I, by the right of thy promise given. With April come again. " Nay, the streams that from the mountains call, And kiss my hastening feet. Are tears of joy that the clouds let fall When Mother and Daughter meet. "And thou, dear Earth, forget thy pain: O'er the crocus fields I come, With the rosy-footed Hours in my train. To the land that I love, my home." PAN. 91 PAN. /^REEN arches; trees that bend and meet ^^ Above the babbling- river ; Faint fairy-dancing mists of heat That o'er the rushes quiver : When June comes in with meadow-sweet, And bowers of eglantine, Then shall you see, with cloven feet, Half-human, half-divine. Pan, moving through the conscious night. And tuning to his reeds Love's tyrant universal might, Life's dear imperious needs. O, come and rest upon the light Warm-breathing earth, and hear The mysteries his lips recite, Shrill, wonderful, and clear. His voice is in the poplar grove. Among the branches tall, And, where the blithe cicadas rove. They chant his madrigal; 92 CLASSIC FANCIES. And his the joy, all joys above, That moves the nightingale To lift his rapturous psalm of love Among- the hawthorns pale. The vi'aves that o'er the ocean sweep. And, laughing, onward pass ; The myriad dreamy pipes that keep Long vigil in the grass. When summer lands are locked in sleep. And drowsy shepherds nod ; All echo, with contentment deep, The music of the god. For he the primal force imparts That through the great world stirs ; From him all living impulse starts Who, of his grace, confers The joy of life upon our hearts, Love's perfect happiness — A boon beyond all mortal arts To summon, or express. MY LADY OF DREAMS. 93 MY LADY OF DREAMS. TVORY white is her face, And ivory white her hand, Instinct with the delicate grace The wise Greek sculptor planned For the virgin Deity Who ruled in the Attic land. So, in the days gone by, The splendour of Artemis beamed, When her bow in the heaven was hung, And the jewelled starlight streamed Through night's blue canopy, flung Over the sacred hill, Where, fairest of all among The temples of Hellas, still Watches the Parthenon. And wherever her footsteps passed They said 'twas the moon that shone ; A light in the darkness cast ; A lantern for poets lit ; A joy to the heart, so vast 94 CLASSIC FANCIES. That the whole world sighed for it. And, even as the moth aspires To the flames with steadfast eyes, And, reaching at last the fires, In a pitiless triumph dies ; So, where your beauty gleams, My wandering spirit flies Through the shadowy bourne of dreams. AFTER THE GREEK OF AGATHIAS. 95 AFTER THE GREEK OF AGATHIAS. TIER lips to yield to me too shy, My Cynthia from her breast A ribbon raised demurely, And kisses on it pressed. As one who, with hot fever spent, To some cool conduit strains, So I toward her streamer bent. To soothe love's cruel pains, And up the silken way my course, With Hope as pilot, set. Till, at her kisses' honied source, Our hearts united met. g6 CLASSIC FANCIES. SONG OF THE CHILDREN OF RHODES. TN the days of long ago, Came the swallow from the south, With a message in his mouth : *' Spring is here ! The soft winds blow ! " Thus the happy children sang In the days of long ago, And the island-city rang : " Spring is here, we know, we know." Flowers from dust forgotten grow, Vanished are the children all, But once more the swallows call, As in days of long ago : " Spring is here ! The soft winds blow ! Spring is here, we know, we know ! " SONG OF THE CHILDREN OF RHODES. 97 From, the original Greek. « 'T^HE swallow is here, With the sweet of the year, The beautiful spring'. Snow-white is his breast. Dark as night is his crest. Of your courtesy bring Out a cake, and explore Your bountiful store For a goblet of wine. A morsel of cheese. Too, and porridge of peas, With bread kneaded fine. The swallow requests. If you grant our behests, We '11 be good. Answer nay, Then lintel and gate. Nest and snug little mate, We '11 carry away ! But if you are kind. Good luck you shall find. So, doors open all To the swallow to-day ! 'Tis children at play. Not grown-ups, who call ! 98 HER JEWELLED PENDANT. HER JEWELLED PENDANT. CIM^ETHA in the cave forlorn, Still crooning- o'er her magic wheel, What time the silver feet of morn Across the sleeping ocean steal : Calypso in her lonely isle. Distraught on Love's relentless rack, Striving against the gods by guile To lure the lost Odysseus back : As through the empty shores they wend, Methinks, upon their ivory necks Such flashing talismans depend As that which now your bosom decks. Yet are such things but vanities For you, to whom the power is given, By the enchantment of your eyes. To draw the very stars from heaven. THE UNCHANGING GODS. 99 THE UNCHANGING GODS. riY legend-haunted coasts I sail, ^-^ And, with the winds that seaward float From thyme-strewn cape, and lotos vale, My thoughts move idly as my boat. Old times are changed. No more the air Is magic with the Siren song, No more the conquering navies fare The red Sicilian cliffs along. The marble quays, where once the ships Flashed splendid as the stars of morn, Are silent all, and empty slips The tide o'er harbour bars forlorn. The lizards in the noonday heat Blink drowsy on the crumbling stone Where once the gods were wont to meet About Poseidon on his throne ; CLASSIC FANCIES. And through the columns, bare and gaunt, That ever sounded with their praise. The weariless cicadas chaunt The burning length of summer days. Old times are changed. Yet here, perchance, As fair as 'neath the moon of yore, The feet of dancing Nereids glance Like waves upon the golden shore. And still the Triton conchs resound When Aphrodite of the foam. With loveliness immortal crowned, They bring again in triumph home. They are not changed ; but changed are we. Whose alien eyes but mist descry When rises from the halcyon sea The sweetly smiling Deity. And though deserted be the shrine Where once the votive offerings hung. And, wreathed with clusters of the vine, No more aloft the thyrse be flung ; THE UNCHANGING GODS. loi Yet oft upon the scented breeze The hymn of Dionysus strays, And in the murmuring- of the trees The laughter of the Nymphs delays ; And through the billows, silver flecked. Where sportive dolphins plunge and leap, With shining wheels^ and ore-weed decked, The chariots of the Sea-God sweep. But we, engrossed by sordid quest, No longer heart's content may find In simple faith, to what is best And beautiful for ever blind ; While the rare voices of the spheres, That fill the earth with music fine, Fall meaningless upon the ears That nothing- count of things divine. CLASSIC FANCIES. A DREAM OF BATH. '^ Agues Solis." A HEAVEN of blue— yet not so clear ■^^ As are the skies of Italy, But with our northern haze bestrewn Like powdered amber ; and, on high. Wide looming' clouds — the clouds of June — Majestic galleons that steer Before the trireme of the sun. Upon the hills, among the groves With summer's canopy o'erlain. Fair marbles in the noontide gleam . From palace tall, and pillared fane, That ring the vale where Avon's stream Between the verdurous rushes moves, Like pearl in jade mosaic spun. Long ere these shining temples stood Amid the dark primeval girth Of forest-land, from out the deep And seething cauldrons of the earth The hot springs welled, and here would creep The broken creatures of the wood, To crave the healing water's boon. A DREAM OF BATH. So, when the dells were all afire, And leaves lay crimson on his track, The wild-boar, torn by rival fierce, Or stricken sore by wolfs attack, The tangled undergrowth would pierce. And wallow in the oozy mire, Beneath the chill October moon. And erst there came a hunter king Hard on the quarry in his lair : Wondering upon the brink he stands To see the chase-worn harts repair. Wide-eyed, beside the smoking sands, Ere yet into the tide they fling. And leap again revived to earth. Now all is changed ; each glade a street, The fretted alleys colonnades. Hung with fresh wreaths of lilies white, And purple iris twined in braids With scented bays, where Wealth and Might Beneath the Eagle's pinions meet Secure by right of Roman birth. See where they march, with pride of race, The glittering legions ; at their head, Swung in his chariot, lord supreme. With victor laurel garlanded, 104 CLASSIC FANCIES. Immovable, his eyes agleam With light of conquest, and the grace Of those who walk serene with Fate, Imperial Caesar's Governor. And though the surging trumpets' storm, The shouting spearmen, and the tramp Of horsemen pass, that godlike form Outshines all time, as burns the lamp Of some great star, above the roar Of hurrying winds inviolate. Now shadows lengthen o'er the meads ; The priestess wakes the sacred pyre On Vesta's altar ; and, anon, The minstrel, bending to his lyre, Recounts the deeds of heroes gone, While through the hall the wine-cup speeds, With nectar of Falernus fraught. Wide swing to ^sculapius dear The gates of bronze, and through the steam Of waters, fringed with green arcades. The sunset slants ; and, as a dream That in a mirage wanes and fades. Half seen, the bathers' forms appear Like statues pale in ivory wrought. A DREAM OF BATH. 105 Or on soft couches spread with flowers, Anointed with Arabian oil, In languid majesty reclined. Like to the gods, who neither toil Nor share the ills of human kind. The sleek Patricians fleet the hours. To sound of dulcimer and flute. Or, as the Nymphs of hill and dale Who tend Diana at the pool, When, bow and buskin laid aside. Beneath the ilex sheltering- cool. They shame the water-lily's pride. The Beauties of the south unveil. O'er meaner beauties absolute. The scene dissolves. The baths again Are silent. Where the feast was crowned The lizard basks ; through empty doors The voices of the birds resound ; Upon the moss-grown marble floors The briar-roses gently rain ; And in the dust Rome's glories lie. Only the sobbing river breathes Her ancient triumphs, and repeats The story of her race sublime. Yet once again, behold ! new streets, io6 CLASSIC FANCIES. Thronged at the blessed Christmas-time, When Christian swords rest in their sheaths, With pomp of Norman chivalry. The candles waver in the gloom ; The painted window-panes are filled With saints in glory. Full and sweet, As balm upon the spirit spilled, The bells with iron music greet The Christ Child in His lowly room ; And rich with frankincense and myrrh The censers fume. Like echoing wings Of angels borne, the organ chords Thrill the dim aisles. Above the heads Of knights-crusader, squires, and lords, The fiery cross a halo sheds ; And through the dark the watchword rings, "God's Will— the Holy Sepulchre!" The voices hush. With portent dire, Blooms the red rose of Lancaster ; Or see, loose-reined, and scattered wide, The Cavaliers defeated spur Before the thunderous Ironside, Till, loud proclaimed from spire to spire, The King enjoys his own once more. A DREAM OF BATH. 107 Peace after strife. The beacon flames No longer through the frightened night. Where walked the Puritans with staid Unbending eyes, in satin dight And witchery of flowered brocade The powdered ladies of St. James' From curtained chairs soft glances pour ; Or, where the mellow sconces shine On buckled shoon, and rapier bright, To lilt of strings and clarinet. With footsteps as the breezes light, They tread the stately minuet. With bow superb, and curtsey fine, The very pearl of formal grace. So moves the pageant. Now forlorn With futile hope, now with a cry Of passionate longing, to the shore Where all the ages meet, pass by Men and fair women evermore ; Like bubbles to the surface borne That glitter, break, and leave no trace. io8 CLASSIC FANCIES. A DEDICATION TO ARTEMIS. (7i) o'evOripov tov5' vtripiax^ Spiov. Mnasalcas. T ADY Huntress of the wold, With thy silver-footed maids, Threading- swift the dappled glades ; Virgin resolute and cold. To thy shrine this offering Of flowers, chaste as thou, I bring : Asphodels, that through the stems Of the darkling ilex show White as the immortal snow That Olympus diadems ; Lilies, whose fair petals shine Lustrous as thy breast divine. With the fresh narcissus twined, And the milky-blossomed heath. Lo ! I weave a votive wreath ; Therefore, Artemis, be kind. So good fortune, by thy grace, Ever 'tend me in the chase. THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. Not for myself, but, Sweet, for thee, And the delight thy beauty wears, I would that I might win from Fate For this my dear-loved poesy The gift of the immortal heart ; That so thou should 'st with them be mate Who, far beyond the ruth of years. Shine constant as the stars above, Of all the ages made a part By virtue of a poet's love. BELLE MARQUISE. o BELLE MARQUISE. BELLE Marquise, O belle Marquise ! The mag-ic of the crimson rose Upon your lovelier self bestows The fragfrant charm of far-oflf Mays And summer days Vanished, and whither gone — who knows ? And O, the dainty powdered hair That frames your face divinely fair, The velvet patches, and the lace. Recall the grace Of stately times, and debonair. O belle Marquise, O belle Marquise ! Upon my sense enchanted dies The lilt of old-world minstrelsies ; And starry fires, whose lights outshone The Trianon, I see reflected in your eyes. Yet not the freshest flowers that grew In all the gardens of St. Cloud, Or with their April beauty wooed The pensive mood Of Ronsard's lyre, were sweet as you. 112 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. O belle Marquise, O belle Marquise ! Take heed, for soon December's rime Will blanch the gold of beauty's prime, And you, as roses proud, shall learn How swift return The weary hours of winter time. But, though the bird of youth take wing. And age its disenchantment bring, Yet shall the envious year's despite But make more bright The memory of your perfect spring. MY LADY OF SNOWS. 113 MY LADY OF SNOWS. T TPON my Lady's whiter breast My longing: eyes may trace, Like foam by moonlit seas caressed, A veil of dainty lace : Thrice happy lace, I would that I Might share with thee her charity. But I, consumed by Love's great fire, In torment day and night. Burn, all unheeded, on the pyre Her flashing glances light ; And ever pray to her in vain To loose me of my cruel pain. Her heart is winter-cold, I know. But if, to quench the flame, I to that sanctuary of snow, A favoured pilgrim, came, Methinks the ice would melted be, And cooled the fire that scorches me. 114 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. LOVE'S CORONAL. T RIFLED from the poppy's store Rubies incarnadine ; A string of gleaming emeralds tore From off the leafy vine. Then, from the larkspur's tender whorls, I plucked the azure bloom. And stole the love-sick lily's pearls, Faint flashing through the gloom. And thus I made a garland meet, With many a flowery gem. To offer at my Lady's feet, A worthy diadem. TRANS MARE. ng TRANS MARE. T OVE is a thing apart, Inviolate, A song- of heart to heart ; As bird to mate, So wing-eth mine to thee. I, far away, the light Of Love have seen. Where, from thy palace white Of virgin sheen, Thou leanest out to me. Drawn from the utmost earth. As swallows fly ; Glad with the sober mirth Of one whom high Emprise of fate would dare ; Obedient to thy thrall Through night and day, I come, adventuring all. That so I may Win me a guerdon fair. 3i6 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. SWEET SEVENTEEN. " CHE 'S pretty, she 's pretty, she 's pretty," Sing-s the throstle exultant and free ; And "She's sweet, sweet, sweet," sings the linnet Who lives in the pink almond tree. Search all the world through, and within it, Wherever the spring'-time may be. In flower-crowned villag^e and city, No maiden is fairer than she. Her cheeks as the morning- are blushing'. Her eyes are twin heavens of blue. Her breast is the bloom of the cherry, Her lips the red nectarine's hue ; And her voice as the skylark is merry. When she passes the meadow-land througfh With gossamer feet, hardly brushing The spangles of diamond dew. The leaves whisper softly above her. And shake out their pennons of green For the Spirit of Spring, and the sister Of April, Love's virginal Queen. O, happy the sun that has kist her Among the anemones' sheen ! O, happy the heart of her lover ! My Lady of Sweet Seventeen. QUEEN OF THE MAY. tiT QUEEN OF THE MAY. ■N/TY Love is as a lily fair ; No star that hangs her lamp in air Is half so bright as she. So here, beneath the beeches green Of Arcady, we '11 crown her Queen With due solemnity. The tuneful birds, that hidden crowd 'Mong leafy boughs, shall herald loud Her virtues and her grace, Who is the true embodiment Of Spring, and to these glades has lent The sunshine of her face. And daisies pied shall smiling greet Their sister who is far more sweet Than e'en the deities Whose sylvan feet press light the sward ; And they shall win for their reward The wonder of her eyes. i:8 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. Her hair is like the billowy corn That in the freshets of the morn Sweeps o'er the dappled leas ; And though she be as marble white, Her kiss is summer's full delight. So here, beneath the trees, We '11 weave a wreath of poppy flowers To chain and hold the fleeting hours In Love's enchanted thrall ; Since, when we meet, the envious day Makes all too soon to speed away. Too soon the shadows fall. A MORNING SONG. ng A MORNING SONG. THRESH as daisies on the lawn In the sparkling- summer dawn, Sweeter than all birds that sing, Hear my Lady carolling. Lark, in your heavenward flight, Whose hymn ascends, Trembles, and ends In pure delight ; Thrush, on the topmost spray, Whose matins greet With numbers meet The wakening day ; Tell me, tell me, if so rare As my Lady young and fair, Shows Aurora in her pride When the gates of morn swing wide ; Or, among the woodland quire, Is there minstrel shall aspire With the music of her voice ? Wherefore will my heart rejoice, And her coming greet we all With a merry madrigal. 120 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. Not because my Love discloses From between the fragrant roses Of her lips those smiling' pearls ; Not because her careless curls Flaunt the wind, and in her eyes Such a wealth of beauty lies ; Not because her voice is low And sweet as waves that ebb and flow ; But because all virtues show In herself, I love her so ; And, for this, she is to me All that loveliness should be. AMOR REDIVIVUS. izi AMOR REDIVIVUS. T THOUGHT my sounding lyre was stilled, Its joy for ever taken ; But, when I heard your voice, Love willed Its music should awaken. The lamps of Heaven, methought, were spent ; The night waxed dim and hoary ; But, when you smiled, the firmament Shone out again in glory. And that great light which lit the skies In olden days of rapture, Within the sunshine of your eyes Love bade me to recapture. THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. LOVE'S MAGNET. COMEWHERE beneath the moon, Or far, or near. Later or soon, I shall meet thee, Dear. As from her southern home The swallow flieth When April 's come. And Winter dieth; So, by Love's magnet drawn. Though distant far From the gates of the dawn As the evening star, I shall come at last to thy side, Swift, silently. As the planets glide, With never a cry ; And thou wilt be there, my Heart, As long before, When, sundered apart In the life of yore, LOVE'S MAGNET. 123 Our souls, on the wings of Time, Sped each its way From the Source Sublime To the light of the day. Yea, I shall know thee sure. My twin, for the fires Of Heaven make pure Our great desires ; And even as streams, unclean From the Earth's embrace. In the radiant sheen Of the sea find grace, So shall my self, again Made one with thee. White, without stain, Immortal be. 124 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. LOVE, THE TRAITOR. A H me ! the grace, The tresses set By Love, a net About her face ; And for a lure Such sparkling eyes As promise sure Sweet treacheries ! 'Gainst which no man, Nor fool, nor wise. Since first began Love's great emprise, Did e'er divine True amulet. For Love appears At first a thing That has no sting To wake our fears ; A bee that brings But honey ; yet, While close he clings, Begins the fret LOVE, THE TRAITOR. 125 Of bitter tears — The long regret That all the years Shall not forget, Nor new Love win To quieting. 126 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. MADONNA MIA. "VrOU are so fair, I cannot but love you, As I love the stars in the heaven above you. As I love the flowers by the southern wall, The virgin lilies white and tall. The stainless flowers That April showers From her lovely lap when swallows call. And those soft eyes, may I not win them ? And the blue forget-me-nots within them, May I not gather them, too, to be worn On my heart ? And those lips, like the blush of the morn In the dewy prime Of the glad spring-time, Shall they wither and fade, of love forsworn ? Grant me but leave to weave at your feet. Dear, A garland of poesy tender and sweet, Dear ; For, as for the minstrel song divine Of the nightingale quire the linnets'pine. So do I seek A power to speak With eloquence meet of the joy that is mine. MA TINS. 127 MATINS. TN the gray twilight, When the bright stars pale, And light mists sail In shadowy flight ; When the air is filled With the fragrance fine Of summer wine By the rose distilled ; When the faint winds shake The silver mere, And far and near The thrushes wake ; Come to me. Sweet, And, at the shrine Of Love divine, Our hearts shall greet The primal hours ; And pray with me Our souls may be White as the flowers. 128 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. DAWN. npHROUGH the tender silvery sheen "'■ Of the dawn, O'er the glimmering- lawn, From between The sleeping birches, fair To my sight As a Dryad light. With her hair Caught in the breeze, like a flame Shining clear, My Mistress dear To me came. And the drowsy flowers, as she spoke, Smiled and stirred, And the answering bird Music woke ; While, even as she passed, behold ! From the day The curtains of gray Mist unrolled. FLOWERS OF THE WIND. 129 FLOWERS OF THE WIND. "P\EEP on the alpine slope, a stream ^^^ Of sunlight pouring free, Golden anemones' light petals gleam : Yet fairer still my Lady's locks I see, Fit coronal supreme For maiden majesty. Wherefore I pray thee, Sweet, no more refuse To give to Love, the honey-bee, His rightful toll, ere yet your beauties lose Their bloom ; for, at the touch of Winter, flee Spring's delicate fresh hues. Nor shall Time wait for thee. And, as these flowers, for whom the zephyrs pined, Must bow to Fate's decree. And of their loveliness leave naught behind Save the lean stems that strew the barren lea With gossamer, of wind And storm the mockery ; 130 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. So, ere among thy curls the years shall trace A frosty filagree, And ban the blushing roses from thy face To where the roses of all ages be, Yield of thy dainty grace To mirth, and Love, and me. I NIGHT IN THE WOODS. NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 'X'HE moon climbs up behind the fir, A globe of golden fire ; The night-winds in the lilac stir My heart with fond desire ; For all the stars that gem the skies Are watching o'er me with thine eyes. Thy scented breath upon the dark From hidden flowers is blown, And every shadow that I mark Into thy form is thrown. And lullabies the leaves among Thrill with the echo of thy song. So, through the solitude of night, Thy gracious influence streameth, And a fair temple of delight This dreaming woodland seemeth, Where I may walk with thee alone In lovers' high communion. 232 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. ROSE D'AMOUR. T ET men speak ill or well of thee, ^ What do I care ? Be it evil or good they tell of thee, Thou art my Fair ; And, being- mine, what matters the rest ? There are a hundred smiling flowers In the garden close. But only one Queen of the summer hours, June's perfect rose : What more should he ask who plucketh the best ? Behold, a myriad cressets bright The sky bedizen ! But only one Moon the world can light ; So she be risen, Who shall regard the lesser gold ? For every heart there is but one True counterpart. What 's worth the living, have I not won Thy peerless heart. Since earth for me naught else shall hold ? LOVE'S ENCHANTMENT. 133 LOVE'S ENCHANTMENT. TN the heart of the gem the fire Of the world's desire, As the autumn sunset red When the day is fled ; Spang-les of jewelled light Where streamers bright From surging torches wave In the elfin cave. Ruby that dazzles the sight With vain delight ; Eerie illusive flame That naught shall tame. Hither and thither tossed, Now found, now lost ; Little I fear the harm Of your magic charm. 134 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. But, when the lightning flies From my Lady's eyes, Even as the moth that flings His desperate wings In the blinding lantern's gleams ; So, in the beams Of her levin glances caught, My heart distraught Burns with the pitiless pain Of Love's disdain. LOVE AND THE STARS. 135 LOVE AND THE STARS. •npHEY who to flowers their love compare, Fair as the dawn, and sweet with summer's breath, Have never tasted of that passion rare Which knows not death. For, though the morn is beautiful, the breeze That fans the gleaming- leaves a joyful thing. Yet is Love's influence deeper far than these. Nor fades with spring. A little time the rose her splendour wears. The winds of summer vanish and are gone ; But Love of the immortal essence shares A part alone. Far down the dusk of ancient days, behold ! Like stars upon the night's wide champain goes A goodly pageant, diademed with gold, The train of those 136 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. Whom Love has sanctified. And where, among- The lesser constellations, planets flame. They are the eternal lamps by poets hung, And lit with fame. And what though, in the ages yet to come. The world grows cold, all things created die ; Still shall their light illumine heaven's dome. And Time defy. HEARTS' COMMUNION. 137 HEARTS' COMMUNION. BETWEEN us roll the seas, "^ Between us loom the mountains, Long- downs and meadow leas, Forests, and sparkling- fountains ; Yet, Sweet, they are not separate Whose hearts in Love's communion mate. Methinks yon shadowy hills Are blue turquoises; a string Of diamond beads the rills ; And dancing waves^ that fling Their sapphires o'er the gleaming main, Gems that compose a mystic chain : A chain that Time and space With peerless strength defies, Whose units interlace All that between us lies; So Death himself would strive in vain To break the precious bond in twain. 138 THE BOOK OF EBLLE MARQUISE. SOME DAY. T^EAREST, some day, some day, ■^^^ When I am passed awaj^, Love's dreaming- over; When, the May morning long-, Bees, with laborious song, Quest the white clover; When o'er the azure seas. Swift on the homing breeze, Swallows are fleeting, And every happy bird In the lush woodland heard Giveth thee greeting; When the silk buds unfold. And, all in white and gold. Meadows are shining : Then shalt thou think of me, Garlands of rosemary Twining', and twining. APRES. 139 APRES. T\ERCHANCE, when I am dead and gone, •*■ And sleep beneath the sward alone, The nightingale shall sing ; And, through the summer twilight borne. To you the incense of the thorn A thought of me shall bring. And what though Time hath seared the rose, And powdered be with winter snows The glory of thy hair ; Though dim the starlight of thine eyes, And naught remain but memories Of all the joys that were ; The magic essence of the flowers Shall breathe across the immortal bowers In Youth's green garden set. And in the nightingales' sad strain Thou, too, shalt hear the song again I sang of love's regret. 140 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. REVERIE. T WONDER, Sweet, If, when you watch alone The fire o' nights. Or when the poplars moan. And fitful lights Flash from the windy stars, And o'er the foaming bars The restless waters flow. You think of long ago. I wonder, Sweet ! I wonder. Sweet, If, in the embers red. You build again The scenes for ever fled. And, in the strain And sorrow of the wind, The voice of Fate unkind Sounds sadly, as to me. For love that might not be. I wonder. Sweet ! REVERIE. HI I wonder, Sweet, If, when the world is past, And stars, and stream. Shall be to us at last Naught but a dream ; If, at the shadowy gates Where Love triumphant waits. Our hearts shall meet once more As in the days of yore. I wonder. Sweet ! 142 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. LOST LOVE. /^ THOU whose voice is poesy, ^^^ Linked with the spirit rare Of wandering rivulet, and breeze, And bird in April fair ; In vain My faltering numbers strain To seize The echo of thy song, And solace with a memory The heart's immortal wrong. And if thy kisses sweeter fall Than drops of honied wine. And, bright as stars in winter dark. Thy peerless glances shine, What gain Were it the cup to drain. Or mark The glories of the night, Since earth and heaven must e'er recall The sense of lost delight ? THE PASSING OF LOVE. 143 THE PASSING OF LOVE. A mournful VillanelU to be sung in the Mask by Melancholy. 'T^HE wind of winter sadly blows ; Darkness broods upon the land : Love into the midnight goes. Warm within the firelight glows; He without the door must stand : The wind of winter sadly blows. Ah ! what bitterness he knows, From my Lady's favour banned : Love into the midnight goes. Deeper, deeper drift the snows ; Fainter ebbs the failing sand : The wind of winter sadly blows. Spectre-thin the poplar shows, Beckoning with shadowy hand : Love into the midnight goes. Fast in death his eyelids close. Lady, at your cold command : The wind of winter sadly blows ; Love into the midnight goes. 144 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. A DIRGE. A nOLETS, purple and white ! ''■ Yew, black yew ! In a funeral wreath unite ; And my salt tears' dew Shall sprinkle the shroud of my Love, Bitter, and bitter-sweet. With a lily fair at her feet, And a lily her head above. Violets, purple and white ! Yew, black yew ! For days that were swift in their flight, And joys that shall never renew. And I would, alas ! that my pain Could pass with your fading leaves, And the heart that lonely grieves In my true Love's grave be lain. THRENODY. 145 I THRENODY. T~\ARK cypress bring-, ^^^ And bitter yew, Her bed to strew. Let no bird sing Above the stone Where all alone My Lady lies. Hushed be all sound Of mourning kind ; And may the wind About her mound On tiptoe creep, Nor vex her sleep With fruitless sighs. 146 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. ACROSS THE STREAM. /^ VOICE beloved, whose haunting melodies ^"^ Sound faint and far upon the dim green hills Of daj's long faded hence, To-night — I know not whence — your spirit cries Across the void, and all my being thrills With your sweet influence, Until I see you, Love, once more as when The world was young, and we in may-time went Clinging together close, Beside the river where the willow-wren Scattered her tiny spring-song of content, And the first blushing rose Smiled down upon us from the garden plot. To see two hearts as happy as her own. Do you recall among Your asphodels the true forget-me-not We garlanded, and are the breezes blown O'er meads Elysian, long, ACROSS THE STREAM. 147 Wistful, and tender as the western wind That gave us benison with gentle breath ? Or is it but a dream That those who all too soon have passed behind The shadowy curtain, which we men call death, Aug-ht of such pleasure deem ? It may be — yet I fain would disbelieve You left our sight, and, like a summer flower. Drooped, and for ever passed ; For, were it so, what profits it to sheave Our golden hopes, and in the darker hour Hold this one solace fast : That Love, at least, from the Immortal flows. And, being itself Immortal, still survives The changes of all time ? Methinks, if no such fire Promethean glows. If no such certain faith inspires our lives. And there be naught sublime Within us, then are we as beasts that grope In intellectual blindness, and in vain For higher things we crave ; Since we have raised ourselves on very hope, The hope that hearts dissevered join again, And Love defies the grave. 148 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. TECUM, Vl/HEN I am dead, Grant me to lie, I pray. By her dear side, That no rank weeds may grow, But flowers blow About my head ; And may my ashes rest Upon her breast. That so they may Be sanctified. I HEREAFTER. 149- HEREAFTER. Dans les champs Elysies une mesme navire Nous passera tous deux. RONSARD. ^WEET, if thy spirit be to mine ^"^ Companion in the spheres, Where Hve all things, and thoughts divine Beyond the ruth of years ; If it may be thy influence Into my soul shall pour, For me what greater recompense Of love has Heaven in store? O, it were past all joy to know, Since parted here we be, That into one our selves shall flow As raindrops in the sea ; And that, beyond life's little groove. Our spirits, ranging high. Ever in one shall onward move To deathless destiny. 150 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. LOVE'S PASSING. A LL night the rain a-weeping- ■^^ Upon the flowers fell, And the autumn tempest sweeping Wailed out their funeral knell. O days of spring departed ! O roses sere and dead! O nightingale faint-hearted ! Where is your music fled ? Cold winter in the garden Weaves white a winding sheet ; The fitful raindrops harden To tears of icy sleet ; The trees give up their glory, And faint the last leaves gleam ; Love ends his fairy-story. And shattered is his dream. LOVE AND HOPE. I5i LOVE AND HOPE. "V^OU are passing hence, Old Year ■■• Once again, Fateful, and plain, I, listening, hear The far-off bells Tolling, tolling slow. Over the bleak snow : Now loud upon the wind, Now faint, the echoes die ; And, with a long-drawn sigh, Your last breath swells. Trembles, and fades. Silent for evermore. 'Tis not for you alone. Watching here Your death-bed drear, I make my moan : 152 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. You go to meet The thousand blessed years, With all their hopes and fears ; But, ah ! for me no kind Inexorable call Upon my ears shall fall, With summons sweet To those dear shades Where dwells my Love of yore. Full is the conscious night Of memories. The faint wind sighs For summer's flight, And bygone hours. The tender hours of youth, The hours of love and truth ; And, from the shadow-land, Behold ! a figure sad. In misty garments clad, Fair as the flowers, Whose eyes are wet With gracious balm of tears. Her wan lips flutter. Hush ! Methinks they frame A sacred name : The pale cheeks flush : — - LOVE AND HOPE. 15S " I am thy soul's True complement, the one, When life for thee is done. Who by thy side shall stand. The Immortal of thy heart : And, what though now apart As are the poles, Together yet Our stars shall roam the spheres. "Hast thou forgotten. Dear, How once of old. In days of gold, When, far and near, High heavenward borne. The skylarks sang, we went On love's sweet mission bent? Hast thou a heart's delight. Elsewhere, so perfect found As when the spring we crowned With bridal thorn, And hand in hand We mocked the threads of Fate? "Among the apple blowth Love bade us follow : But, as the swallow That flieth south 154 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. When north winds ring The knell of roses dead, Our fleeting joys were sped, And, lonely here to-night, Thou, too, alas ! dost know What ever shall be so, How vain a thing, And quickly spanned. Is April-love's estate." The vision fades, and hark Again ! a chime Of joy sublime Thrills through the dark A message clear : — "Why stand' st thou doubting here? Hope with the new-born year. If thou hast loved and lost. Thine is the promise sure ; Live in the thought secure : Be strong, nor fear. Night waneth fast ; The chiding voices cease. *' Look forward. Life for thee Hath purpose yet. From vain regret, O dreamer, flee ! LOVE AND HOPE. 155 The trumpets sound A challenge. While the blood Runs hot, and life is good, Answer, nor count the cost ; All for thy manhood dare ; So, with the laurel fair Thou shalt be crowned, When Death, at last, Foldeth thy soul in peace." 156 THE BOOK OF BELLE MARQUISE. ENVOI. T^HROUGH all these written pages. In all my verse's chime, O'er all the changing stages Of sad, and happy time ; To sound of music gliding. Intangible, unseen, On wings of Fancy riding, Thou movest, dear my Queen. The seasons bring their changes. The falling leaf and sere ; And far the swallow ranges Ere spring again be here. Thy beauty, too, is mortal ; The gold must fade to gray ; And here, within Life's portal, Thou hast but little stay: Yet in my heart for ever, Still shalt thou reign supreme ; Nor Death himself shall sever The glory of my dream. MOODS AND MEASURES. THE DANCE OF THE FAIRIES. 159 THE DANCE OF THE FAIRIES. 'T^HIS is the wood of the fays: Tread lightly. Happy the man who may gfaze On the circle haunted, By the spell of the green fairy ring- Enchanted, Where nightly Revel and sing The elves that alone by the eyes Of mortals are sighted When the sunset dies, And the glow-worm torches Are lighted. Then, through the dim porches Of forestry drooping. The wee folk come trooping. Hark ! hark ! to their song The long grasses among, As the owl from his perch flees affrighted. i6o MOODS AND MEASURES. Drum-a-drum, drum-a-drum, Softly their footsteps hum, Laughing and whooping Merrily, airily Skipping, and stooping In pick-a-back races. Ding-a-ding, ding-a-ding ! Madly the bluebells swing. Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong ! Closer they press and throng Into their places ; Over the mosses deep. Where the dark shadows creep, There they are dancing- Retreating, advancing. Mopping, and mowing. Scraping, and bowing; Till, over lawn and mere, Sudden loud Chanticleer Wakes with his chiding. Then, sunbeams astriding, Mounting, and riding, Hurrying, scurrying, All disappear ! ON A LITTLE TURQUOISE FROG. i6r ON A LITTLE TURQUOISE FROG. T WAS born in Italy, -'■ Underneath an azure sky, In my eyes, behold ! there shine Garnets from a Tuscan mine. Once a frog-let in a marsh. With my brothers croaking harsh, " Brekekekex koax!" I Chanted when the moon was high. Now, at last, transformed to stone, Silent is my monotone ; But, though fast in prison pent. Yet can I be eloquent, Singing songs unsung to you Of dreaming lakes, and skies of blue ; Cypress trees of velvet green. Through the slanting olives seen ; Hills of purple Apennine Fringed with summer-scented pine ; Rushing streams, and poplars prim Marshalled at the river's brim ; i62 MOODS AND MEASURES. Crumbling towers, and vine-clad walls ; Rainbow-shafted waterfalls Sounding through the orchards deep, Where the flocks at noontide sleep : Golden dreams like these I bring ; Songs of olden lands I sing. Therefore wear me while you can ; I will be your talisman. TO LAURENCE AND ANGELINE. 163 TO LAURENCE AND ANGELINE. TS/f ES deux etoiles — you smiling' stars That light the little firmament Of this provincial town, which bars And keeps you in seclusion pent, I wonder what your lives will be When Fate and Fortune set you free. My Laurence, with the roguish eyes, And curls done a la Japonaise, You little guess what danger lies In your unconscious pretty ways. And how of old such graces brought Men's hearts to strife, and ruin wrought. And you, my dainty Angeline, More serious, more timid, yet Not too intent on things divine Sometimes to play the gay coquette, Who knows but your enchantments might Have caused fanatic fires to light? 164 MOODS AND MEASURES. So, wisely to avoid such ruth, Fate keeps you safely under latch ; And Laurence, in the pearl of youth, No doubt will make a prudent match ; While Angeline, lest I mistake. Will other vows than nunhood's make. IN CORSICA. 165 IN CORSICA. AS by the waterfall sit I ■^^ This golden afternoon, My fancy, like a butterfly, Flits idly to the tune Of rippling streams, and dallies In chestnut-shaded alleys. Of lentisk, arbutus, and heath My banquet hall is made ; Sweet scented with wild strawberry's breath, My smooth green table laid ; As though the elves had grown Their fruits for me alone. Peace mirrored in a summer dream ! How far away the toils Of worldly faring cities seem ! How trivial the spoils Hard-won in weary strife, Beside this happy life ! i66 MOODS AND MEASURES. SUNRISE IN THE VAL D'ANNIVIERS. ^UNRISE, and soft in the firs "^"^ The awaking delight Of the dawn. Dim shadowy spurs That spectre-like show In their mantles of snow. And, sudden, a gleam o'er the hills That pierces and thrills The deep-bosomed vale in its flight. And lo ! where the Moon disarrayed O'er the mountain-side dips, As the faint stars tremble and fade, And the generous fire Strikes homestead and byre, The mist-covered meadows appear A diaphanous mere, Navied with silvery ships. THE WINDING WAY. 167 THE WINDING WAY. To where beyond these voices there is peace. 'TpHE road winds upward through the pines To heights of white eternal snow, Where Dawn's ethereal breath refines The lower mists to clouds which glow With living fire immaculate As when, of old, the first glad rays Sped at the Word from Heaven's gate To light the world's untrodden ways. And as, far down, with steadfast eyes, Toward the glittering peaks I hold, Great thoughts within my heart arise. Beyond the art of words to mould. For, with their elemental might, The mountains of this silent land Inspire my soul with clearer sight To recognise and understand i68 MOODS AND MEASURES. The deeper mysteries that bind Ourselves in chains about God's feet ; The purpose of the Master-Mind, In all its wonder made complete. And, thus borne up from meaner strife, Through highest realms I seem to move To that sweet peace which folds our life With arms of universal love. LOVE AND FAITH. 169 LOVE AND FAITH. \ PRIEST came out at eventide ■^^ Into the fields by the river-bed. "Ave Maria ! " — his beads he plied, And a calm was over his spirit shed ; But the wind blew cold from snows above, And he knew that his joy was a loveless love. A philosopher sat by the midnight oil Building a creed for the life of man ; But all that he won from the hours of toil Was this : " Since ever the world began We fight for peace through storm and stress. And nothing is good but nothingness. " And what avails when all be done ? Bitter 's the taste of the Knowledge-Tree. Naught matters : we work, or we play — 'tis one ; For the end is the end of eternity." And the sun rose over the hills, and the air Echoed a cry of dark despair. 170 MOODS AND MEASURES. And the lamp burnt low, while the sunshine swept The forest aisles in long cascades, And the song- of the waking blackbirds leapt In pseans loud through the emerald glades ; But never a breath of hope it brought . To the man who the creed of happiness wrought. A poet sat in the dewy morn, Listening rapt to the matins prayer Of the bird, and the sweet fresh breezes borne On the wings of the dawn to his window there ; And, even as they chanted, well he knew That the world was good, and the truth was true. For the face of a maid had smiled on him, A smile as fair as the morning star, Whose eyes with the mist of love were dim ; And her voice, like the lark at heaven's bar. Had poured in his ears a magic strain That woke the God in his soul again. THE NEW ARGONAUTS. 171 THE NEW ARGONAUTS. Vl/'E are launching: on the great emprise to-day, In brave array ; Heave the anchor, Brothers, heave ! and, come what may In the fray. Our endeavour ne'er shall cease Till, like sons of ancient Greece, The ideal golden fleece We bear away. Our ship is christened Faith, and her crew Pledged anew To deeds that only gods, and heroes true, Dared to do, When the Argonauts of yore To the land of wonders bore, And, upon the Phasian shore. The dragon slew. For the kingdoms of Romance, and Fairy-tale, We set sail ; And, clad in Hope's impenetrable mail, Down the trail 172 MOODS AND MEASURES. Of the Hydra-headed Snake, That ever is awake, Our dauntless pennons shake To the gfale. Right eagerly she starts to seek the prize. Though the wise May shake their heads as merrily she flies, And the cries Of her cheering sailors sound O'er the waves, and, myrtle crowned. Her mast-heads leap and bound To the skies. Upon the surging billows in our pride We will ride. Little heeding that for ever men have tried. Far and wide. The same sweet goal to reach, But to perish on the beach. Where the wrecks of ages bleach Mortified. And what though Fate has cast our horoscope. And we grope In vain to find the Truth, while we cope. Oar and rope, THE NEW ARGONAUTS. m With a quest that bringfs to naught, As Philosophy has taught, Still, our hearts shall e'er be fraught With living Hope. The world has stood for centuries the same Ere we came ; We know it, and to those of old be blame ; Nor shall fame And honour e'er belong To slaves who bear the thong Of Tyranny and Wrong Without shame. Then onward, Hearts ! For us the hour is young. And among Our Brotherhood let gallant songs be sung By every tongue. Across the harbour bar Push out, and steer afar. While beacon-bright our star In heaven is hung ! 174 MOODS AND MEASURES. SANCTUARY. AlZITHIN this aisle ''■*• Of whispering beeches, Where bluebells smile, And the blackbird preaches The gospel of Spring To ears that will listen ; Where, sweet thoughts on the wing, The white butterflies glisten : Here is heart's balm. And solitude ; A haven calm From passions rude. BROKEN MELODIES. 175 BROKEN MELODIES. r\ SILVER lute, What mournful mood Hath so subdued, And left thee mute ? Behold ! with garlands of delight Young April dight. Alone hast thou no song to make For dear Love's sake ? Why silent now, W^ho, in the happier days of old, Didst charmed hold The babbling brook. And in the trees Enchant the breeze ; Then sudden shook .. Upon the air an ecstasy Of joy so high That, when the spell 176 MOODS AND MEASURES. Resolved, and fleet, With winged feet. O'er down and dell. The West Wind on his message flew, And, whispering through His banks again, the River streamed. Thy music seemed One with the voices of the air that sing The psalm of Spring? QUOUSQVE TANDEM. lyy QUOUSQUE TANDEM. r\ WIND of Fate, that drives us far Across the wave, with sails unfurled, Toward the sands where shattered are The hopes of all the world. Who knows for what fair goal inspired My soul set out upon its course, With what divine ambition fired My life swept from its source ? Who knows? But in the darkening scene. With eyes turned backward o'er the ways, I only see the might-have-been Fade with the sunset's rays. M 178 MOODS AND MEASURES. ONWARD. "r\ID I for a moment falter In my whole belief? Did I think, as seasons alter, And the spring- is brief, Love would with the swallows range, Or, as roses, fade and change ? Did I, in my great endeavour. Yearn awhile for rest ? Turned I from my purpose ever, Taking, for the best, Joys that fleeting are, and pass As morning dews upon the grass ? Did I, in the hour of doing. Turn my steps aside ? Did I, in the swift pursuing. With the laggards ride. Seeking, from the storm and stress, Vain inglorious idleness ? ONWARD. 179, Yea ! our hearts grow faint and sicken When the squadrons reel, When, to weary ranks and stricken. Faint the trumpets peal, And the g-athering- shadows fold Earth in night's embraces cold. Yet serene, from heaven's dark curtain. Shines the star of Hope. Brothers, close the ranks uncertain, With the battle cope ; Labour onward, strive, endure : Courage, for the end is sure. i8o MOODS AND MEASURES. IN THE SHADOWS. T\0 you never, in the gloaming, •^^^ Ere the friendly lights are lit, When gray thoughts, as birds, are homing, And the shadows bat-like flit ; Do you never, silent musing. For the old time sigh and yearn, And the days beyond all losing, Days that never shall return ? Do you never, as you ponder. To youth's happy innocence Give a wistful thought of wonder And solicitude intense ? Do regrets for love uncherished Never move the heart to tears. Nor ambitions that are perished Mock the fruitless after-years ? Do you never, when the darkness Falls upon the winter scene, And, in all their dreary starkness. Trees, that once were fresh and green, IN THE SHADOWS. i8r Show like spectres, lean and meagre, Think that like to them shall we, Who were once so proud and eager, Shorn of all our glory be ? Happy he who finds no sadness In the whispering after-thought, In whose heart the years with gladness And white memories are fraught ; Since the burden heaviest holden Is the curse of days misspent, And the breaking of the golden Talisman of sweet content. i82 MOODS AND MEASURES. A SPRING DAY AT FRESHWATER. T>ATHED in the amber glow Of an April day, The headland shimmers white, A panoply Of silver bright : Above the cloudless sky, And a frill of foam below, Shredded in spray ; Eastward a little bay, Curving an arm Of delicate shining sand To the kiss of the waves ; And, dark in land. The sounding mermaid caves, Where fairy echoes stray. The heart to charm. A SPRING DAY AT FRESHWATER. 183 Here, on the grassy dome Of the cliff, the bees Loot treasure of gold From the g-littering whin, And the martins hold Long parliament, and begin Once more the labour of home In their fastnesses. And from the distant beach, Borne on the breeze, The voices of children, sweet As the birds of spring. Rise up to greet Me, with the murmuring And soft inarticulate speech Of the wind and the seas. Blithe as the linnet's lay. In the blackthorn hedge Curtained with lace. Is their laughter light ; Not merrier race The screaming gulls of the Wight, Than the water-babies at play By the ocean's edge. i84 MOODS AND MEASURES. Now, loosed from her mooring's, high Beyond the pale Of storm-tossed weed, with a peal Of shouting-, and strain Of grating- keel, The first boat takes the main, And, leaping to liberty. Shakes out her sail. And I muse on the spacious time When our fathers gazed A long farewell to the land That they loved, and made For the unknown strand. Nor the great adventure stayed Till, a beacon from clime to clime, Their ensigns blazed. While splendid visions float On the inward eye ; A great armada of ships The horizon sweeps, And from the lips Of a thousand cannon, leaps The jubilant battle-note Of victory. A SPRING DAY AT FRESHWATER. 185 Nay, 'tis but the noontide giin From the seaward fort, Where the old flag greeting waves To the homeward borne, And to the heart that braves The trackless paths forlorn. Far 'neath the setting sun, Where glory 's bought. Wide strewn in their ocean graves The white bones lie ; Hurricane surge, and blast, The hearts of oak To the rocks have cast ; But never their anger broke The spirit that o'er the waves Won admiralty ! And we, born heirs to the trust In this later age. Ours it is to share The proud emprise. Ours to dare All for our liberties. So that we be not thrust From the heritage. 186 MOODS AND MEASURES. And ever the wild seas cry : " Who, fearless, free, Win by our might to the crown Of destiny, To them renown Shall be given, and the honour high Of a name that shall not die For all time to be." SONNETS. UBIQUE. 189 UBIQUE. /^ LOVE, my Love, I see thee everywhere ^'^ In waking- hours ; and in the time of sleep, When, from the gates of pearl, dim visions creep, Thou movest like a spirit white and fair : Floats o'er the moon a cloud, it is thy hair Drawn golden-gleaming through the azure deep ; And stars that from the summer heaven peep Are but thine eyes gazing- upon me there. Yea, every scent and sound that fills the nig-ht Whispers of thee. The lilies' balmy sigh Exhales thy being on the ravished air ; And the soft murmur of the breezes light Among the poplar trees is but a rare Faint echo of thy voice's melody. igo SONNETS. TO MY ABSENT LOVE. QWEET exile from my side, my absent Love, Whose eyes beam on me through the distance, clear As lights of the celestial hemisphere That gleam and gaze upon me from above ; Would that I were a star, that I might rove Across the spangled firmament, and peer Far, far beyond this dark horizon here, And with the ordered constellations move. Until, drawn upwards in the dome of night, Myself should reach the zenith o'er th}' head. And, gliding downward then in viewless flight. Within the temple of thy dreams impart Such visions as beatify the heart When souls immortal each to each are wed. CYNTHIA SINGING. igr CYNTHIA SINGING. QWEET is the sound of water falling through "*^ Deep mountain clefts to mossy pools ; and sweet The gracious lullaby the winds repeat To dreaming flowers ; sweet are the birds that strew The woods with harmon}^, waking anew Echoes of song that make the hours to fleet In Arcady with golden numbers, meet For careless sunshine, and a heaven of blue. Yet, in the April morning have I heard. Floating across the fresh enamelled meads, A clearer song than water, wind, or bird, Or long-drawn melody of whispering reeds — My Cynthia's voice, than which the days of old. And days that are, no sweeter music hold. 192 SONNETS. PANSIES. A DROWSY garden steeped in moonbeams white ; ■^^ A stream of magic perfume from the still Of sleeping roses, and the fitful thrill Of breezes, through the soft Italian night Whispering of Youth, and Summer's brief delight : There we together met. By what strange will Of Time or Circumstance, of Good or 111, What matter ? since awhile, in Fate's despite, Hope's golden chalice to our lips was borne, Stained with no bitter after-taste of gall. And when for ever you were gone, and all The garden weeping tears of crystal dew, I garlanded, true flowers of those who mourn. Blue pansies, sweet with memories of you. MY TRUE MISTRESS. 193 MY TRUE MISTRESS. A PRIL, thy name is music to my ear, The whispered phrase of vag-rant honey-bees. The melody of winds in budding trees, The echo of the hills, when far and near The cuckoo calls, and all the skies are clear ; When daffodils dance lightly o'er the leas, And in the meads the white anemones. The virgins of Spring's palace royal, appear. Whether I greet thee in this northern land, Crowned with the pearl and emerald of the thorn. Or whether, waiting by the southern strand, I feel thy breath upon my spirit borne O'er azure seas, where gold-girt islands dream. Thou art my Mistress, and my joy supreme. 194 SONNETS. IN THE TEMPLE. QO long the clouds have brooded o'er the land ; "^ So long the dusty turmoil of the World My heart upon a weary road has whirled. But, now, behold ! by gentle breezes fanned. The mists dissolve ; with festal garlands spanned, The woodland ways are green ; and, wide unfurled, The banners of sweet Spring, with dewdrops pearled , A willing worship of the heart demand. The music of the happy birds shall be My anthem, introit, and volunt'ry ; With gleaming wreaths of iris shall be set My altar ; while the white-stoled violet And crimson hawthorn thuribles shall swing To purify my grateful offering. TO HERRICK. ■ 195 TO HERRICK. For well thou know'st 'tis not the extent Of land makes life, but sweet content. I. /^ SWEETLY sounds the music o'er the meads ^^' And " pebbly streams " of our dear Devon- shire, The joyous songf of him who, to the lyre Of merrie England, tuned the dulcet reeds Of ancient Greece, and now with Jonson leads, Through fairer fields of asphodel, the quire On whom the Muses shed their sacred fire. The world, grown sorrowful, no longer heeds The heart's immortal strains. The life and grace. That in your lyrics found an honoured place. No longer please. But o'er the troubled land Unrest and Discontent go hand in hand : So that I count you, too, in this most blessed. No weight of new-world doubt your soul oppressed. 196 SONNETS. THE SAME. II. IVT ASTER, whose minstrelsy expresseth clear, In numbers musical, the lesson plain Of April blossoms, and of garnered grain, How often in the winter of the year, Far from the " lyric festivals " so dear To thy convivial mood and generous brain. The well-remembered joy of youth would pain Thy solitude, and, on thine inward ear, Echoes of nights ambrosial resound — Rare nights when, as the inspiring bowl went round, Ben Jonson, crowned with sacred laurel, sang, And to the roof the mirth of Shakespeare rang : Yet, hadst thou not renounced these pleasures high, Mute were the sweetest bird of Arcady. TO HERRICK. 197 THE SAME. III. 'T^HE breath of Spring upon the waiting- earth ; The primrose pale, with tearful eyes ; the fate Of gathered rosebuds left disconsolate, And fading daffodils ; the rustic mirth Of sunburnt carnivals ; the simple worth And kindly hearts of men of low estate ; Love's dear content, his virtues rare and great : To praise of these thy happy Muse gave birth. No themes magnificent thy verse inspire ; But the wild hawthorn decked about thy lyre Scattereth the perfume of Arcadian days. The glad delight of England in her pride, When, sweet as birds that greet the Easter-tide, Her lovers carolled down the flowery ways. igS SONNETS. IN PRAISE OF ISIS. P^AR have I wandered, by the sounding falls And cataracts of Scandinavia wild ; Oft have I heard, beneath the moonlig-ht mild Of blue Italian nights, the madrigals Of dulcet-throated water borne from walls Curtained with arbutus and broom, and piled With odorous myrtles ; and long hours beguiled Where Rhine moves regal through his mountain halls. Yet, deeper joy, dear Isis, have I known When on thy tranquil breast I dreamed alone ; For thou, the tried companion of my spring, With all fond memories of boyhood fraught. My heart the joy of life, my lips to sing The song of happiness, hast ever taught. SPIRIT OF HELLAS. 199 SPIRIT OF HELLAS. QPIRIT of Hellas, breathe into my ears "^"^ The spell that, in the golden days gone by. Woke on Parnassus such sweet minstrelsy As shames the dearth of these inglorious years. The spell that stirred the depth of human tears, And touched the chords of all emotions high Upon the lyres of that fraternity Whose music echoes ever to the spheres. For, as I mused awhile upon the place Where time-worn frieze and pediment forlorn Mark the memorials of the wondrous race That bloomed and faded in the world's first morn, Methought a voice cried : " They alone shall live To whom the gods the crown of laurel give." 200 SONNETS. LE CCEUR LEGER. 'T'HE sky is clear to-day. The Western Wind Lifts up his voice among' the swaying trees. Like fallen stars, the pale anemones Spangle the meadows ; in the linden rind The sweet sap rises ; while the children bind Fresh scented garlands, on their knees Among the cowslips, where the merchant bees Pervade the air with voices human kind. The banks, the grassland, and the gentle slope Of silver birch with fairer promise teem ; And where the rose-pink budded apples gleam, Spring calls to Love, and Love awakes to hope ; While I, my heart by April joyous made, Step lightly through the cheerful masquerade. HYERES. HYERES. ISLANDS of gold— high battlements of light, Dreaming on sapphire seas, amid a haze Diaphanous. Beneath my feet a maze Of gemmed mosaic, where the cistus white Showers the earth with limpid chrysolite ; Hedges of rosemary, and upland ways Thick-set with lavender ; warm rocks ablaze With red valerian ; and, flashing bright Among the black-branched ilex, butterflies Sulphur and scarlet-robed, by poets named "The Glory of Provence." With such fair dreams I charm the solitude that darkest seems Here in our England when, 'neath sullen skies. Spring on the threshold lingers all ashamed. 203 SONNETS. EARLY SPRING. TT is the time 'twixt pear and apple bloom, When from the leafing blackthorn disappears Her crown of snows, and all the woodland wears A brighter green among the sombre gloom Of ancient yews ; when over hill and coomb The sparkling gorses flare, and starlike peers The blue-eyed periwinkle 'mid the spears Of martial orchids ; when the swallows loom And glance, chasing with elfin scream the flies That dance above the river, while the bees Drone to the love-sick hyacinths, until The setting sun smiles to the fair young trees A soft good-night, and whispering breezes fill The April dusk with fitful lullabies. EXCELSIOR. 203 EXCELSIOR. 5WEETHEART, when summer time again is here. Beneath the shadowy alpine heights we '11 go, By gleaming pine-woods, where the breezes blow- Light through the scented palaces, and where Upon the argent bosom of the mere The solemn mountains dream ; or to the snow, Through gardens gay, where azure gentians glow. We '11 climb together to a nobler sphere, Forgetful of the world, as angels borne Upward to meet the messengers of morn, Beyond the forest, where in glittering pride The sunbeam squadrons on cloud chargers ride. And round their chosen king, with voiceless song,. The lesser peaks in adoration throng. 204 SONNETS. FULL SUMMER. •npHE damask mantle of the Summer weighs Full-folded on the shoulders of the beech, And to the grass the ripening hazels reach Long arms of fresh luxuriance : a maze The green-arched woodland is, where sunlight plays Through leafy lattices, and zephyrs preach To flower and butterfly, with fairy speech. The joy of love made one with golden days. Ah ! that my soul, like some wild-bird that flies Free to the bosom of the forest, might Learn the sweet secret that close hidden lies. The talisman of love, and life's delight ; For, sooth on ears that may not understand Falls the evangel of this happy land. FRUSTRA. 205 FRUSTRA. /^ STRANGE ! that when the summerskiesare fair, ^^ And all the earth a garden full of scent ; When, with the g-uelder-roses' snowflakes blent, The lilac drifts upon the dreaming air ; When with the long-drawn days our souls might share Some spirit of the Earth's new merriment : Strange ! that on things of trivial moment bent, Ourselves, our hearts, to sordid joys repair ; So that, whenever Spring revives anew. And stirs to life most beautiful the flowers. Spreads o'er the woods her emerald canopies. And with the light of love her pageant dowers, Blind from the golden truth we turn our eyes, And, on a barren quest, the dross pursue. 2o6 SONNETS. BLUE AND GOLD. QWEETHEART, the hyacinths of fairy blue ^ Have spread their scented carpet through the wood ; The speedwell by the road has doffed her hood, And shyly lifts her azure eyes to woo The wandering butterfly ; where violets flew Anon their bannerets, and may-buds stood In glittering regiments, the golden snood Of virgin iris takes the morning dew ; And all the world is as a palace fair, Filled with the music of exultant birds. The spirit of the Earth breathes everywhere Faint melodies linked sweet with magic words Unspoken, yet, to Love's enchanted ear, Fraught with a meaning dominant and clear. MY LADY OF THE VIOLIN. 207 MY LADY OF THE VIOLIN. QWEET are the wandering- voices of the waves "^ Upon the sands, beneath the summer sky ; And sweet the western breeze's anthem high Among the solemn forest architraves ; And sweet the whisper of the stream that laves The reed-fringed meadow banks of Arcady, Where I have watched the rosy Hours fly, And Night loom dusky from her amber caves. But when toward her passionate wild strings My Lady leans with lightly flashing bow, A sweeter music on my senses rings, And into wider spheres of rapture flow My ravished thoughts, until it seems that I Touch the white gates of immortality. ao8 SONNETS. SLEEPLESSNESS. T>LUE is the summer night. The pale witch Moon ^ Leans from her lofty chariot, and dowers The sea with peace; and where the white cliff towers, A fitful lullaby the waters croon. But to my wakeful senses come amain Fond memories of youth, and happier hours When Love was kind, and fairer than the flowers The face of her who brought my soul to pain. O thou who gildest with illusion brief The sorrow of the waves, bestow thy boon On my poor heart, and shed thy gracious balm Upon the troubled ocean of my grief, That in the haven of sweet dreams I swoon. And steep my soul in slumber's perfect calm. SUNSET. 209 SUNSET. 'T'HE trees show bare against the flaming- skies, Save where the surging cedars darkly loom ; Through all the garden creeps the winter gloom, And, rose by rose, the fire of sunset dies. Blank are the windows, sightless as Death's eyes, Browed with October's funeral ivy bloom ; Silent, forsaken is each well-known room ; Sadly the wind among the chimneys sighs. Hushed are the voices that made glad of old These fearful alleys. Broken, empty now The bowers of eglantine, whose arms enfold No more the well-loved forms : and empty thou, My heart, as, lonely watching here, I yearn For the dead hours that never shall return. 210 SONNETS. FORGOTTEN POETS. "T^HERE are a thousand voices in the air ; A thousand scents the summer night beguile; With beauty manifold the woodlands smile ; The wide blue continent of heaven, how fair ! Yet there have been a thousand days as rare, And songs of earth and ocean sweet as these Which wake the living music of the trees, And seem to conscious ears beyond compare. So is it with remembered greatness. Some There are whose music haunts each passing wind, And, one with the wild rapture of the sea, Through all the tides of time shall ne'er be dumb. But think how many, sweet as they may-be, -j Have sung, and left no single note behind. " < IN LONDON. 211 IN LONDON. A H me ! that I for ever in the maze •^*- Of this vast city walk the unbending round, The never-varying circle, tied and bound By custom's law, and, down these weary ways. On one same gray horizon fix my gaze — Bleak destiny of exile, sorrow-crowned, Hating the base, yet to the unceasing sound Of strife unutterable to pass my days. Once on a time I sought a fairer goal : The wide sky opened to the morning sun Her rosy breast ; aloft the skylark cried ; And, with the air and singing bird made one, Above all meaner passions held, my soul By Heaven's ethereal breath was sanctified. SONNETS. SURGIT AMARI ALIQUID. O SADNESS past all sadness, when the cloud Sweeps in upon the tender April day, Leaving the skies disconsolate and gray, Where smiled the sun a lover's greeting proud : And sad it is to see the first rose bowed Before the cruel tempest, and the may Scattered and torn, that gleamed in fresh array, With all the grace of maidenhood endowed. Yet sadder far when, down youth's flowery way, Misfortune moves with outstretched hands, and pale, To touch, transform, and mould to grief and pain The sweet young life. Ah ! what shall then avail The bitterness of tears ? What art essay To give the roses back their prime again ? THE CHRISTMAS CHILD. 213 THE CHRISTMAS CHILD. T OUD through the night the Herald Angels sing In joyful chorus, to the listening earth Lifting sweet anthems, and with solemn mirth Inspiring us with thankfulness to bring A humble tribute to the Saviour King. Now in the manger, lowly in His birth, Enwrapped in swaddling clothes of meanest worth, The Holy Child is softly slumbering. Enter we then with awe, and, while we gaze Noiseless upon the Babe, in deep amaze. New hope of better things our hearts shall fill. And courage fresh to our endeavours come, Nobly to fight the fight of faith, until The Father calls again His children home. 214 SONNETS. PARTING. '^T^IS autumn now, and thou and I are far. But still, methinks, the winding- path is green Upon the hill, where many a time between The branches, like a sudden-gleaming star, I, in the happier hours that naught can mar In memory's treasure-house, have watchful seen Thy dear-loved form toward me move, serene. Across the night's dark intervening bar. The leaves upon our trysting-place will fall, The swallows turn toward the kinder seas. And all in vain the wistful winds shall call Thy name among the weeping, listening trees. But thou, alas ! with summer time art gone, And I must climb the silent hill alone. THE OLD, OLD LOVE. 215 THE OLD, OLD LOVE. /~\ LOVE of old, where art thou passed away ? ^"^ In what dim bourne beyond the reach of years. Across what ocean bitterness of tears, ' Findest thou haven, and in what sad gray Elysian meadows doth thy spirit stray? Knowest thou not that now the violet peers, The willows burgeon by the babbling weirs. And larks sing sweetly through the April day, As when we two together whispering went Beside the full-brimmed river, and the world Seemed but to live for us ; when spring-time blent For us its odours rare, and all unfurled The glory of the cloudless heaven shone Upon our love, and gave us benison ? 2i6 SONNETS. HEARTSEASE. QOMETIMES in summer, when the drowsy trees ^-^ Whisper together, and the West Wind makes Soft lullaby among the forest brakes ; Above their rhapsody of song, more sweet than bees, Or wandering birds' inconstant melodies, I hear a voice that with its music takes My spirit prisoner, and calms the aches Of old-remembered loss, and gives me ease. And, as a suppliant rapt before a shrine Feels in his inward soul at last the flow Of long desire made perfect, so I know That still the memory of thy love is mine, Nor all in vain, and lonely, have I striven. Since thus thy spirit-self to me is given. BEAU LIEU. 217 BEAULIEU. T WATCH beside the tideless glittering sea, •^ Silent and scentless, alien to the eye From those cold northern waters, lifting high Their clarions harsh, that last, to you and me. Sounded farewell of England. Flower and tree, Beneath the lowering of your distant sky, Flutter, and pale to death ; the swallows fly ; The roses bow to Winter's stern decree. Yet were it nothing that nor rain nor storm Breaks the enchantment of these southern days, Did not some part of your sweet self inform With beauty, secret to myself, the ways, And over all a magic influence cast, Where in the time of old your footsteps passed. 2i8 SONNETS. THE LAST SUNSET. T WATCHED the weary Sun descend his throne Towards the g-limmering portals of the West, And, ere the pageant faded, o'er the crest Of darkling forest-land a voice was blown — The wandering echo of a spirit lone — " I pass, and with me to the eternal rest Pass all the broken hopes that once possessed The souls of men." And, as it ceased its moan, Behold ! with faltering steps, and shoulders bent, 'Neath the red canopy of winter skies. The Old Year went, and pale within his eyes Gleamed the last long-expiring flame of those Fierce fires that burned when in his might he rose And like a giant strode the firmament. so SOON. 219 SO SOON. 50 it is thus : after a little year The voice of Love thrills faint, its echoes die, Even its joys are but a memory. And Hope sits leaden-eyed without a tear. We who were tricked by Chance— how poor appear Our fondest aspirations, sere and dry As last year's leaves ; and all in vain we try To lure to life again the phantom drear Of that forgotten ecstasy which seemed The full perfection of imagining. I know not why the golden dream we dreamed Is past and faded. Roses still are red. And nightingales among the willows sing. Only the magic of Love's hour is fled. 220 SONNETS. CONSOLATION. nTHOUGH I should never see your face again ; Though lost our love, and gone beyond recall, And I left lonely here to dream of all That might have been ; still may I salve my pain : For, as the seed which long asleep has lain Spell-bound beneath the winter's freezing pall, Warmed by the breath of spring, resolves the thrall, So in my heart wakes memory's golden grain. Ever alone, yet am I not alone, For, absent, you possess my solitude ; The darkest day with hopes of you is light ; Your dear-remembered smiles disperse in flight The melancholy hours ; the haunting tone Of your sweet music hallows my saddest mood. LUX TENEBRIS. LUX TENEBRIS. December, 1899. GOD gave our England might, and, by His Will, Of the inviolate sea dominion high ; And, with the first great gift of liberty. He bade her as His instrument fulfil. Through cloud and storm, her destiny, until In every land, where'er oppression be. Her sword should set His chosen people free. But, as for us of old, on Calvary's hill, Through shame and bitterness of tears He passed To make the One and Perfect Sacrifice, We, too, must uncomplaining pay the price, Obedient to His manifold behest, Giving at need our dearest and our best. So that we win to Honour at the last. SONNETS. REALISATION. T TOW far our fond anticipations pass ■*• •'■ The great event ! How everything we seek Is but a shadow which our senses weak Have clothed with glory in Hope's magic glass ! And how, like desert mirages of grass That of sweet comfort to the wayworn speak, Our realised desires prove false and bleak ; The gold, at length possessed, a thing of brass ! Yet I have felt a joy within me thrill. And rapture past all understanding fill My heart, what time the rosy-girdled Sun Shares with the Moon his throne, and soft the breeze Whispers Love's message to the primroses ; For then I know 'tis spring, and winter 's done. J FINIS. 'X*HE last verse must be fashioned, The last prayer must be said, The last faint chord impassioned Upon the air be sped. O, pray that in the making, O, pray that in the song, Howe'er the heart be aching, How great so e'er the wrong, There be no thought remaining Of bitterness and tears. The golden record staining Of dear remembered years. Uniform with present volume, Price 5s. THE RHYMES AND RHAPSODIES OF OLIVER GREY. second edition. London : George Routledge & Sons, Ltd. SOME OPINIONS OP THE PRESS. " The Rhymes and Rhapsodies of Oliver Grey " are well described by their title. His verses have a real flavour, some- times of Ovid and sometimes of Horace, with occasional touches that recall the fancies and conceits of Herrick. Mr Grey writes agreeably, and is evidently well rea.d.— Times. Mr Oliver Grey's verse is redolent of spring and birds and flowers, and human feeling simple and direct. What Mr Grey has to say he says excellently. — Literature. "The Rhymes and Rhapsodies of Oliver Grey" are pleasant and neat. — Athenceum. Mr Oliver Grey's " Rhymes and Rhapsodies " are often musical and pretty— a fitting reward for his praise of Herrick. — Guardian. Mr Oliver Grey has a nice taste in innocent joys. Many of these rhymes are worth praising. —Outlook. What Mr Oliver Grey mostly excels in is, firstly, a light touch that is entirely independent of vulgarity; secondly, an indisput- able skill in the management of numberless metres. Love, sweet and sad memories, regrets, open air delights, affection's bric-a-brac— these are the foundations for his dainty, easy songs. — Literary World. Oliver Grey has a vein of blameless sentiment which he ex- presses with fluent grace. The pieces may be praised for tenderness and for the delight they show in the beautiful things in the world. — Critic. "The Rhymes and Rhapsodies of Oliver Grey" contain a good deal of graceful verse which would make good material for the musician. — St James's Gazette. Oliver Grey has clearly studied Herrick to some purpose, for there are not only pieces in praise of Herrick in the " Rhymes and Rhapsodies," but the happiest of all the lyrics in the book are turned, as Herrick's are. in very short lines and with simple, daintily expressed outflows of feeling. — Scotsman. His style is naturally lyrical, and his work has a fine, easy, musical lilt and swing, which is very pleasing, and will be mucli liked by lovers of good song-craft. — G/flsj^oui Herald. ' Mr Oliver Grey's little volume is full of youth's innocentmelan- choly. He is best in his lightest vein. Someairy little "casual" fragments of vers-de-sociiti are done with a neatly humorous touch. — Standard. In " Rhymes and Rhapsodies " Oliver Grey shows that he has a graceful fancy and an easy pen. His muse varies from the true lyrical strain to the vers-de-sociiti. — Black and White. " Rhymes and Rhapsodies," by Oliver Grey, contains in its two hundred pages much that shows charm and grace. — Weekly Sun. Mr Oliver Grey has a delicate note of his own; a fine ear, a nimble fancy, and the rare faculty of transfusing his emotions into smooth and melodious verse. — Public Opinion. Most of the work is cast on true poetic lines, and, as a whole, it contains vivid and sympathetic descriptions, and a wealth of ingenious imagery. — County Gentleman. We have poets by the dozen who are doing the big thing in a small way. It is an agreeable surprise to come upon one, like Oliver Grey, who is content and able to do a little thing supremely well. — Referee. Perfect grace is the pervading characteristic of the poet's wonderfully varied work. But he has strength as well. And he is not without a sense of delicate \ivL\no\iv.—Spoi'ting Life. Triolet and villanelle he deftly blows like bubbles. It would be unjust to Mr Grey not to note that in his sonnets there is more of the fundamental brain-work which, according to Rossetti, makes all the difference in art. — Star. Oliver Grey's muse is a true country maiden, fresh and sweet and soft-voiced. — Manchester Guardian. His workmanship is almost uniformly correct and smooth, and his themes embrace a large number of subjects. — Liverpool Post. Oliver Grey can strike out ringing lines, utter sweet and melodious phrases, seize upon sparkling words. We like his volume and willingly praise it. — Birmingham Gazette. A joyous book of song. Few better examples of the work of the minor poet have been published. — Western Morning Nexus. Very dainty and poetical are many of the verses, with a touch of Herrick. — Gentlewoman. This book is DUE on the last date stamf>ed below. REMINGTON RAND INC. 20 213 (533J JER. grey - ii728 preludes and G663p s ^^- phonies PR ii728 G668p