LIBRARY University of California. Class POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH POEMS FROM 'MODERN LOVE 1 AND SCATTERED POEMS POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH (published in 1851) POEMS FROM 'MODERN LOVE' (first edition) AND SCATTERED POEMS BY GEORGE MEREDITH * ^ or THE UNIVERSI1 > Of ■ NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1909 UlftL /* ^5s CONTENTS POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH (Poems 1851): The Olive Branch .... PAGE 3 Song ....... 9 The Wild Rose and the Snowdrop 10 The Death of Winter .... 13 Song 15 John Lackland ..... 16 The Sleeping City .... 17 The Poetry of Chaucer 22 The Poetry of Spenser 23 The Poetry of Shakespeare. 23 The Poetry of Milton 24 The Poetry of Southey 24 The Poetry of Coleridge . 25 The Poetry of Shelley 25 The Poetry of Wordsworth 26 The Poetry of Keats .... 26 Violets ....... 27 Angelic Love ..... 28 Twilight Music ..... 30 Requiem ...... 32 The Flower of the Ruins . ?4 >|The Rape of Aurora 38 CONTENTS South-West Wind in the W Will o' the Wisp Song Song Song Daphne Song London by Lamplight Song Pastorals Song — Spring Song — Autumn Love in the Valley Beauty Rohtraut . To a Skylark Sorrows and Joys Song Song Antigone Song The Two Blackbirds July Song Song The Shipwreck of Idom The Longest Day To Robin Redbreast Song . . . Sunrise . CONTENTS Pictures of the Rhine To a Nightingale Vll PAGK 145 149 POEMS FROM 'MODERN LOVE' (First Edition): Grandfather Bridgeman 153 The Meeting 172 The Beggar's Soliloquy 173 Cassandra .... 179 The Young Usurper 184 Margaret's Bridal-Eve 185 The Head of Bran the Blest 193 By Morning Twilight . 197 Autumn Even-Song 198 Unknown Fair Faces . 199 Phantasy .... 200 Shemselnihar 207 A Roar through the Tall Twin Elm- Trees 210 When I would Image . 211 I Chafe at Darkness . 212 By the Rosanna : to F. M. . 213 Ode to the Spirit of Earth in Autumn . 214 The Doe : A Fragment 223 SCATTERED POEMS: To Alex. Smith, the ' Glasgow Poet Chillianwallah .... Invitation to the Country . The Sweet o' the Year 233 234 236 CONTENTS The Song of Courtesy The Three Maidens The Crown of Love Lines to a Friend visiting America On the Danger of War To Cardinal Manning . To Children : for Tyrants . A Stave of Roving Tim On Hearing the News from Venici. The Riddle for Men . PAOK 240 243 245 247 256 257 258 262 267 268 POEMS WRITTEN IN EARLY YOUTH POEMS 1851 Of THE UNIVERSITY POEMS 1851 THE OLIVE BRANCH A dove flew with an Olive Branch ; It crossed the sea and reached the shore, And on a ship about to launch, Dropped down the happy sign it bore. * An omen ' rang the glad acclaim ! The Captain stooped and picked it up, ' Be then the Olive Branch her name,' Cried she who flung the christening cup. The vessel took the laughing tides ; It was a joyous revelry To see her dashing from her sides The rough, salt kisses of the sea. And forth into the bursting foam She spread her sail and sped away, The rolling surge her restless home, Her incense wreaths the showering spray. POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Far out, and where the riot waves Run mingling in tumultuous throngs, She danced above a thousand graves, And heard a thousand briny songs. Her mission with her manly crew, Her flag unfurl'd, her title told, She took the Old World to the New, And brought the New World to the Old Secure of friendliest welcomings, She swam the havens sheening fair ; Secure upon her glad white wings, She fluttered on the ocean air. To her no more the bastioned fort Shot out its swarthy tongue of fire ; From bay to bay, from port to port, Her coming was the world's desire. And tho' the tempest lashed her oft, And tho' the rocks had hungry teeth, And lightnings split the masts aloft, And thunders shook the planks beneath, And tho' the storm, self-willed and blind, Made tatters of her dauntless sail, And all the wildness of the wind Was loosed on her, she did not fail ; THE OLIVE BRANCH But gallantly she ploughed the main, And gloriously her welcome pealed, And grandly shone to sky and plain The goodly bales her decks revealed ; Brought from the fruitful eastern glebes, Where blow the gusts of balm and spice, Or where the black blockaded ribs Are jammed 'mongst ghostly fleets of ice, Or where upon the curling hills Grow clusters of the bright-eyed grape, Or where the hand of labour drills The stubbornness of earth to shape. Rich harvestings and wealthy germs, And handicrafts and shapely wares, And spinnings of the hermit worms, And fruits that bloom by lions' lairs. Come, read the meaning of the deep ! The use of winds and waters learn ! 'Tis not to make the mother weep For sons that never will return ; 'Tis not to make the nations show Contempt for all whom seas divide ; 'Tis not to pamper war and woe, Nor feed traditionary pride ; POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH 'Tis not to make the floating bulk Mask death upon its slippery deck, Itself in turn a shattered hulk, A ghastly raft, a bleeding wreck. It is to knit with loving lip The interests of land to land ; To join in far-seen fellowship The tropic and the polar strand. It is to make that foaming Strength Whose rebel forces wrestle still Thro' all his boundaried breadth and length, Become a vassal to our will. It is to make the various skies, And all the various fruits they vaunt, And all the dowers of earth we prize, Subservient to our household want And more, for knowledge crowns the gain Of intercourse with other souls, And Wisdom travels not in vain The plunging spaces of the poles. The wild Atlantic's weltering gloom, Earth-clasping seas of North and South, The Baltic with its amber spume, The Caspian with its frozen mouth ; THE OLIVE BRANCH The broad Pacific, basking bright, And girdling lands of lustrous growth, Vast continents and isles of light, Dumb tracts of undiscovered sloth. She visits these, traversing each ; They ripen to the common sun ; Thro' diverse forms and different speech, The world's humanity is one. O may her voice have power to say How soon the wrecking discords cease, When every wandering wave is gay With golden argosies of peace ! Now when the ark of human fate, Long baffled by the wayward wind, Is drifting with its peopled freight, Safe haven on the heights to find ; Safe haven from the drowning slime Of evil deeds and Deluge wrath ; — To plant again the foot of Time Upon a purer, firmer path ; 'Tis now the hour to probe the ground, To watch the Heavens, to speak the word. The fathoms of the deep to sound, And send abroad the missioned bird. POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH On strengthened wing for evermore, Let Science, swiftly as she can, Fly seaward on from shore to shore, And bind the links of man to man ; And like that fair propitious Dove, Bless future fleets about to launch ; Make every freight a freight of love, And every ship an Olive Branch. SONG SONG Love within the lover's breast Burns like Hesper in the west, O'er the ashes of the sun, Till the day and night are done ; Then when dawn drives up her car — Lo ! it is the morning star. Love ! thy love pours down on mine As the sunlight on the vine, As the snow rill on the vale, As the salt breeze in the sail ; As the song unto the bird, On my lips thy name is heard. As a dewdrop on the rose In thy heart my passion glows. As a skylark to the sky, Up into thy breast I fly ; As a sea-shell of the sea Ever shall I sing of thee. 10 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH THE WILD ROSE AND THE SNOWDROP The Snowdrop is the prophet of the flowers ; It lives and dies upon its bed of snows ; And like a thought of spring it comes and goes, Hanging its head beside our leafless bowers. The sun's betrothing kiss it never knows, Nor all the glowing joy of golden showers ; But ever in a placid, pure repose, More like a spirit with its look serene, Droops its pale cheek veined thro' with infant green. Queen of her sisters is the sweet Wild Rose, Sprung from the earnest sun and ripe young June ', The year's own darling and the Summer's Queen ! Lustrous as the new-throned crescent moon. Much of that early prophet look she shows, Mixed with her fair espoused blush which glows, As if the ethereal fairy blood were seen ; Like a soft evening over sunset snows, Half twilight violet shade, half crimson sheen. *^ OF THE \ UNIVERSITY J THE WILD ROSE AND THE SNOWDROP 11 Twin-born are both in beauteousness, most fair In all that glads the eye and charms the air ; In all that wakes emotions in the mind And sows sweet sympathies for human kind. Twin-born, albeit their seasons are apart, They bloom together in the thoughtful heart ; Fair symbols of the marvels of our state, Mute speakers of the oracles of fate ! For each fulfilling nature's law, fulfils Itself and its own aspirations pure ; Living and dying ; letting faith ensure New life when deathless Spring shall touch the hills. Each perfect in its place ; and each content With that perfection which its being meant ; Divided not by months that intervene, But linked by all the flowers that bud between. Forever smiling thro' its season brief, The one in glory and the one in grief : Forever painting to our museful sight, How lowlihead and loveliness unite. Born from the first blind yearning of the earth To be a mother and give happy birth, Ere yet the northern sun such rapture brings, Lo, from her virgin breast the Snowdrop springs ; And ere the snows have melted from the grass, And not a strip of greensward doth appear, Save the faint prophecy its cheeks declare, 12 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Alone, unkissed, unloved, behold it pass ! While in the ripe enthronement of the year, Whispering the breeze, and wedding the rich air With her so sweet, delicious bridal breath, — Odorous and exquisite beyond compare, And starr'd with dews upon her forehead clear, Fresh-hearted as a Maiden Queen should be Who takes the land's devotion as her fee, — The Wild Rose blooms, all summer for her dower, Nature's most beautiful and perfect flower. THE DEATH OF WINTER 13 THE DEATH OF WINTER When April with her wild blue eye Comes dancing over the grass, And all the crimson birds so shy Peep out to see her pass ; As lightly she loosens her showery locks And flutters her rainy wings ; Laughingly stoops To the glass of the stream, And loosens and loops Her hair by the gleam, While all the young villagers blithe as the flocks Go frolicking round in rings ; — Then Winter, he who tamed the fly, Turns on his back and prepares to die, For he cannot live longer under the sky. Down the valleys glittering green, Down from the hills in snowy rills, He melts between the border sheen And leaps the flowery verges ! 14 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH He cannot choose, but brighten their hues, And tho' he would creep, he fain must leap, For the quick Spring spirit urges. Down the vale and down the dale, He leaps and lights, till his moments fail, Buried in blossoms, red and pale, While the sweet birds sing his dirges ! O Winter ! I 'd live that life of thine, With a frosty brow and an icicle tongue, And never a song my whole life long, — Were such delicious burial mine ! To die and be buried, and so remain A wandering brook in April's train, Fixing my dying eyes for aye On the dawning brows of maiden May„ SONG 15 SONG The moon is alone in the sky As thou in my soul ; The sea takes her image to lie Where the white ripples roll All night in a dream, With the light of her beam, Hushedly, mournfully, mistily up to the shore The pebbles speak low In the ebb and the flow, As I when thy voice came at intervals, tuned to adore : Nought other stirred Save my heart all unheard Beating to bliss that is past evermore. 16 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH JOHN LACKLAND A wicked man is bad enough on earth ; But O the baleful lustre of a chief Once pledged in tyranny ! O star of dearth Darkly illumining a nation's grief ! How many men have worn thee on their brows ! Alas for them and us ! God's precious gift Of gracious dispensation got by theft — The damning form of false unholy vows ! The thief of God and man must have his fee : And thou John Lackland, despicable prince — Basest of England's banes before or since ! Thrice traitor, coward, thief ! O thou shalt be The historic warning, trampled and abhorr'd Who dared to steal and stain the symbols of the Lord! THE SLEEPING CITY 17 THE SLEEPING CITY A princess in the eastern tale, Paced thro' a marble city pale, And saw on ghastly shapes of stone, The sculptured life she breathed alone ; Saw, where'er her eye might range, Herself the only child of change ; And heard her echoed footfall chime Between Oblivion and Time ; And in the squares where fountains played, And up the spiral balustrade, Along the drowsy corridors, Even to the inmost sleeping floors, Surveyed in wonder chilled with dread, The seemingness of Death, not dead ; Life's semblance but without its storm, And silence frosting every form ; 18 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Crowned figures, cold and grouping slaves, Like suddenly arrested waves About to sink, about to rise, — Strange meaning in their stricken eyes. And cloths and couches live with flame Of leopards fierce and lions tame, And hunters in the jungle reed, Thrown out by sombre glowing brede ; Dumb chambers hushed with fold on fold, And cumbrous gorgeousness of gold ; White casements o'er embroidered seats, Looking on solitudes of streets, — On palaces and column'd towers, Unconscious of the stony hours ; Harsh gateways startled at a sound, With burning lamps all burnish'd round ; — Surveyed in awe this wealth and state, Touched by the finger of a Fate, And drew with slow-awakening fear, The sternness of the atmosphere ; — And gradually with stealthier foot, Became herself a thing as mute, And listened, — while with swift alarm Her alien heart shrank from the charm : THE SLEEPING CITY 19 Yet as her thoughts dilating rose, Took glory in the great repose, And over every postured form Spread lava-like and brooded warm, — And fixed on every frozen face, Beheld the record of its race, And in each chiselled feature knew The stormy life that once blushed thro' ; — The ever-present of the past There written ; all that lightened last, Love, anguish, hope, disease, despair, Beauty and rage, all written there ; — Enchanted Passions ! whose pale doom Is never flushed by blight or bloom, But sentinelled by silent orbs, Whose light the pallid scene absorbs. — Like such a one I pace along This City with its sleeping throng ; Like her with dread and awe, that turns To rapture, and sublimely yearns ; — For now the quiet stars look down On lights as quiet as their own ; The streets that groaned with traffic, show As if with silence paved below ; 20 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH The latest revellers are at peace, The signs of in-door tumult cease, From gay saloon and low resort, Comes not one murmur or report : The clattering chariot rolls not by, The windows show no waking eye, The houses smoke not, and the air Is clear, and all the midnight fair. The centre of the striving world, Round which the human fate is curled, To which the future crieth wild, — Is pillowed like a cradled child. The palace roof that guards a crown, The mansion swathed in dreamy down, Hovel, court, and alley-shed, Sleep in the calmness of the dead. Now while the many-motived heart Lies hushed— fireside and busy mart, And mortal pulses beat the tune, That charms the calm cold ear o' the moon Whose yellowing crescent down the West Leans listening, now when every breast Its basest or its purest heaves, The soul that joys, the soul that grieves ; — THE SLEEPING CITY 21 While Fame is crowning happy brows That day will blindly scorn, while vows Of anguished love long hidden, speak From faltering tongue and flushing cheek ; The language only known to dreams, Rich eloquence of rosy themes ! While on the Beauty's folded mouth, Disdain just wrinkles baby youth ; While Poverty dispenses alms To outcasts, bread, and healing balms ; While old Mammon knows himself The greatest beggar for his pelf ; While noble things in darkness grope, The Statesman's aim, the Poet's hope ; The Patriot's impulse gathers fire, And germs of future fruits aspire ; — Now while dumb nature owns its links, And from one common fountain drinks, Methinks in all around I see This Picture in Eternity ; — A marbled City planted there With all its pageants and despair ; A peopled hush, a Death not dead, But stricken with Medusa's head ; — 22 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH And in the Gorgon's glance for aye The lifeless immortality Reveals in sculptured calmness all Its latest life beyond recall. THE POETRY OF CHAUCER Grey with all honours of age ! but fresh- featured and ruddy As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard has thrice heard Chaunticlere. Tender to tearfulness — childlike, and manly, and motherly ; Here beats true English blood richest joyance on sweet English ground. THE POETRY OF SHAKESPEARE 23 THE POETRY OF SPENSER Lakes where the sunsheen is mystic with splendour and softness ; Vales where sweet life is all Summer with golden romance ; Forests that glimmer with twilight round revel-bright palaces ; Here in our May-blood we wander, careering 'mongst ladies and knights. THE POETRY OF SHAKESPEARE Picture some Isle smiling green 'mid the white-foaming ocean ; — Full of old woods, leafy wisdoms, and frolic- some fays ; Passions and pageants ; sweet love singing bird-like above it ; Life in all shapes, aims, and fates, is there warm'd by one great human heart. 24 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH THE POETRY OF MILTON Like to some deep-chested organ whose grand inspiration, Serenely majestic in utterance, lofty and calm, Interprets to mortals with melody great as its burthen, The mystical harmonies chiming for ever through- out the bright spheres. THE POETRY OF SOUTHEY Keen as an eagle whose flight towards the dim empyrean Fearless of toil or fatigue ever royally wends ! Vast in the cloud-coloured robes of the balm- breathing Orient Lo I the grand Epic advances, unfolding the humanest truth. THE POETRY OF SHELLEY 25 THE POETRY OF COLERIDGE A brook glancing under green leaves, self- delighting, exulting, And full of a gurgling melody ever renewed — Renewed thro' all changes of Heaven, unceas ing in sunlight, Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed in the beams of the holier orb. THE POETRY OF SHELLEY See'st thou a Skylark whose glistening wing- lets ascending Quiver like pulses beneath the melodious dawn ? Deep in the heart-yearning distance of heaven it flutters — Wisdom and beauty and love are the treasures it brings down at eve. 26 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH THE POETRY OF WORDSWORTH A breath of the mountains, fresh born in the regions majestic, That look with their eye-daring summits deep into the sky. The voice of great Nature ; sublime with her lofty conceptions, Vet earnest and simple as any sweet child of the green lowly vale. THE POETRY OF KEATS The song of a nightingale sent thro' a slum- brous valley, Low-lidded with twilight, and tranced with the dolorous sound, Tranced with a tender enchantment ; the yearning of passion That wins immortality even while panting de- lirious with death. VIOLETS 27 VIOLETS Violets, shy violets ! How many hearts with you compare ! Who hide themselves in thickest green, And thence unseen, Ravish the enraptured air With sweetness, dewy fresh and rare ! Violets, shy violets ! Human hearts to me shall be Viewless violets in the grass, And as I pass, Odours and sweet imagery Will wait on mine and gladden me ! 28 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH ANGELIC LOVE Angelic love that stoops with heavenly lips To meet its earthly mate ; Heroic love that to its sphere's eclipse, Can dare to join its fate With one beloved devoted human heart, And share with it the passion and the smart, The undying bliss Of its most fleeting kiss ; The fading grace Of its most sweet embrace : — Angelic love, heroic love ! Whose birth can only be above, Whose wandering must be on earth, Whose haven where it first had birth ! Love that can part with all but its own worth, And joy in every sacrifice That beautifies its Paradise ! And gently like a golden-fruited vine, With earnest tenderness itself consign, And creeping up deliriously entwine ANGELIC LOVE 2 Its dear delicious arms Round the beloved being ! With fair unfolded charms, All-trusting, and all-seeing, — Grape-laden with full bunches of young wine ! While to the panting heart's dry yearning droutl Buds the rich dewy mouth — Tenderly uplifted, Like two rose-leaves drifted Down in a long warm sigh of the sweet South ! Such love, such love is thine, Such heart is mine O thou of mortal visions most divine 1 30 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH TWILIGHT MUSIC Know you the low pervading breeze That softly sings In the trembling leaves of twilight trees. As if the wind were dreaming on its wings ? And have you marked their still degrees Of ebbing melody, like the strings Of a silver harp swept by a spirit's hand In some strange glimmering land, 'Mid gushing springs, And glistenings Of waters and of planets, wild and grand 1 And have you marked in that still time, The chariots of those shining cars Brighten upon the hushing dark, And bent to hark That Voice, amid the poplar and the lime, Pause in the dilating lustre Of the spheral cluster ; Pause but to renew its sweetness, deep As dreams of heaven to souls that sleep I TWILIGHT MUSIC 31 And felt, despite earth's jarring wars, When day is done And dead the sun, Still a voice divine can sing, Still is there sympathy can bring A whisper from the stars ! Ah, with this sentience quickly will you know, How like a tree I tremble to the tones Of your sweet voice ! How keenly I rejoice When in me with sweet motions slow The spiritual music ebbs and moans — Lives in the lustre of those heavenly eyes, Dies in the light of its own paradise, — Dies, and relives eternal from its death. Immortal melodies in each deep breath ; Sweeps thro' my being, bearing up to thee Myself, the weight of its eternity ; Till nerved to life from its ordeal fire, It marries music with the human lyre, Blending divine delight with loveliest desire. 32 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH REQUIEM Where faces are hueless, where eyelids are dew- less, Where passion is silent and hearts never crave ; Where thought hath no theme, and where sleep hath no dream, In patience and peace thou art gone — to thy grave ! Gone where no warning can wake thee to morn- ing, Dead tho' a thousand hands stretch'd out to Thou cam'st to us sighing, and singing and dying, How could it be otherwise, fair as thou wert ? Placidly fading, and sinking and shading, At last to that shadow, the latest desert ; Wasting and waning, but still, still remaining, Alas for the hand that could deal the death- hurt ! REQUIEM 33 The Summer that brightens, the Winter that whitens, The world and its voices, the sea and the sky, The bloom of creation, the tie of relation, All — all is a blank to thine ear and thine eye ; The ear may not listen, the eye may not glisten, Nevermore waked by a smile or a sigh. The tree that is rootless must ever be fruitless ; And thou art alone in thy death and thy birth ; No last loving token of wedded love broken, No sign of thy singleness, sweetness and worth ; Lost as the flower that is drowned in the shower, Fall'n like a snowflake to melt in the earth. 34 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH THE FLOWER OF THE RUINS Take thy lute and sing By the ruined castle walls, Where the torrent- foam falls, And long weeds wave : Take thy lute and sing, O'er the grey ancestral grave ! Daughter of a King, Tune thy string. Sing of happy hours, In the roar of rushing time ; Till all the echoes chime To the days gone by ; Sing of passing hours To the ever-present sky ; — Weep — and let the showers Wake thy flowers. Sing of glories gone : — No more the blazoned fold From the banner is unrolled ; The gold sun is set. THE FLOWER OF THE RUINS 35 Sing his glory gone, For thy voice may charm him yet ; Daughter of the dawn, He is gone 1 Pour forth all thy grief ! Passionately sweep the chords, Wed them quivering to thy words ; Wild words of wail ! Shed thy withered grief — But hold not Autumn to thy bale ; The eddy of the leaf Must be brief ! Sing up to the night : Hard it is for streaming tears To read the calmness of the spheres, Coldly they shine ; Sing up to their light ; They have views thou may'st divine — Gain prophetic sight From their light I On the windy hills Lo, the little harebell leans On the spire-grass that it queens, With bonnet blue ; 36 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Trusting love instils Love and subject reverence true, Learn what love instils On the hills ! By the bare wayside Placid snowdrops hang their cheeks, Softly touch'd with pale green streaks. Soon, soon, to die ; On the clothed hedgeside Bands of rosy beauties vie, In their prophecied Summer pride. From the snowdrop learn ; Not in her pale life lives she, But in her blushing prophecy. Thus be thy hopes, Living but to yearn Upwards to the hidden copes ; — Even within the urn Let them burn ! Heroes of thy race — Warriors with golden crowns, Ghostly shapes with marbled frowns Stare thee to stone : THE FLOWER OF THE RUINS 37 Matrons of thy race Pass before thee making moan ; Full of solemn grace Is their pace. Piteous their despair ! Piteous their looks forlorn ! Terrible their ghostly scorn ! Still hold thou fast ; — Heed not their despair ! — Thou art thy future, not thy past ; Let them glance and glare Thro' the air. Thou the ruin's bud, Be not that moist rich-smelling weed With its arras-sembled brede, And ruin-haunting stalk ; Thou the ruin's bud, Be still the rose that lights the walk, Mix thy fragrant blood With the flood 1 38 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH THE RAPE OF AURORA Never, O never, Since dewy sweet Flora, Was ravished by Zephyr, Was such a thing heard In the valleys so hollow ! Till rosy Aurora, Uprising as ever, Bright Phosphor to follow, Pale Phoebe to sever, Was caught like a bird To the breast of Apollo ! Wildly she flutters, And flushes all over With passionate mutters Of shame to the hush Of his amorous whispers : But, O such a lover Must win when he utters Thro' rosy red lispers, THE RAPE OF AURORA 39 The pains that discover The wishes that gush From the torches of Hesperus. One finger just touching The Orient chamber, Unflooded the gushing Of light that illumed All her lustrous unveiling. On clouds of glow amber, Her limbs richly blushing, She lay sweetly wailing, In odours that gloomed On the God as he bloomed O'er her loveliness paling. Great Pan in his covert Beheld the rare glistening, The cry of the love-hurt, The sigh and the kiss Of the latest close mingling : But love, thought he, listening, Will not do a dove hurt I know, — and a tingling, Latent with bliss, Prickt thro' him, I wis, For the Nymph he was singling. 40 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH SOUTH-WEST WIND IN THE WOODLAND The silence of preluded song — iEolian silence charms the woods ; Each tree a harp, whose foliaged strings Are waiting for the master's touch To sweep them into storms of joy, Stands mute and whispers not ; the birds Brood dumb in their foreboding nests, Save here and there a chirp or tweet, That utters fear or anxious love, Or when the ouzel sends a swift Half warble, shrinking back again His golden bill, or when aloud The storm-cock warns the dusking hills And villages and valleys round : For lo, beneath those ragged clouds That skirt the opening west, a stream Of yellow light and windy flame Spreads lengthening southward, and the sky Begins to gloom, and o'er the ground A moan of coming blasts creeps low And rustles in the crisping grass ; SOUTH-WEST WIND IN THE WOODLAND 41 Till suddenly with mighty arms Outspread, that reach the horizon round, The great South-West drives o'er the earth, And loosens all his roaring robes Behind him, over heath and moor. He comes upon the neck of night, Like one that leaps a fiery steed Whose keen black haunches quivering shine With eagerness and haste, that needs No spur to make the dark leagues fly 1 Whose eyes are meteors of speed ; Whose mane is as a flashing foam ; Whose hoofs are travelling thunder- shocks ; — He comes, and while his growing gusts, Wild couriers of his reckless course Are whistling from the daggered gorse, And hurrying over fern and broom, Midway, far off, he feigns to halt And gather in his streaming train. Now, whirring like an eagle's wing Preparing for a wide blue flight ; Now, flapping like a sail that tacks And chides the wet bewildered mast ; Now, screaming like an anguish'd thing Chased close by some down-breathing beak ; Now, wailing like a breaking heart, That will not wholly break, but hopes 42 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH With hope that knows itself in vain ; Now, threatening like a storm-charged cloud Now, cooing like a woodland dove ; Now, up again in roar and wrath High soaring and wide sweeping ; now With sudden fury dashing down Full-force on the awaiting woods. Long waited there, for aspens frail That tinkle with a silver bell, To warn the Zephyr of their love, When danger is at hand, and wake The neighbouring boughs, surrendering all Their prophet harmony of leaves, Had caught his earliest windward thought, And told it trembling ; naked birk Down showering her dishevelled hair, And like a beauty yielding up Her fate to all the elements, Had swayed in answer ; hazels close, Thick brambles and dark brushwood tufts, And briared brakes that line the dells With shaggy beetling brows, had sung Shrill music, while the tattered flaws Tore over them, and now the whole Tumultuous concords, seized at once With savage inspiration, — pine, And larch, and beech, and fir, and thorn, SOUTH-WEST WIND IN THE WOODLAND 43 And ash, and oak, and oakling, rave And shriek, and shout, and whirl, and toss, And stretch their arms, and split, and crack, And bend their stems, and bow their heads, And grind, and groan, and lion-like Roar to the echo-peopled hills And ravenous wilds, and crake-like cry With harsh delight, and cave-like call With hollow mouth, and harp-like thrill With mighty melodies, sublime, From clumps of column'd pines that wave A lofty anthem to the sky, Fit music for a prophet's soul — And like an ocean gathering power, And murmuring deep, while down below, Reigns calm profound ; — not trembling now The aspens, but like freshening waves That fall upon a shingly beach ; — And round the oak a solemn roll Of organ harmony ascends, And in the upper foliage sounds A symphony of distant seas. The voice of nature is abroad This night ; she fills the air with balm ; Her mystery is o'er the land ; And who that hears her now and yields His being to her yearning tones, 44 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH And seats his soul upon her wings, And broadens o'er the wind-swept world With her, will gather in the flight More knowledge of her secret, more Delight in her beneficence, Than hours of musing, or the lore That lives with men could ever give ! Nor will it pass away when morn Shall look upon the lulling leaves, And woodland sunshine, Eden-sweet, Dreams o'er the paths of peaceful shade ;- For every elemental power Is kindred to our hearts, and once Acknowledged, wedded, once embraced, Once taken to the unfettered sense, Once claspt into the naked life, The union is eternal. WILL O' THE WISP 45 WILL O' THE WISP Follow me, follow me, Over brake and under tree, Thro' the bosky tanglery, Brushwood and bramble ! Follow me, follow me, Laugh and leap and scramble ! Follow, follow, Hill and hollow, Fosse and burrow, Fen and furrow, Down into the bulrush beds, 'Midst the reeds and osier heads, In the rushy soaking damps, Where the vapours pitch their camps, Follow me, follow me, For a midnight ramble I O ! what a mighty fog, What a merry night O ho ! Follow, follow, nigher, nigher — Over bank, and pond, and briar, Down into the croaking ditches, 46 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Rotten log, Spotted frog, Beetle bright With crawling light, What a joy O ho ! Deep into the purple bog — What a joy O ho ! Where like hosts of puckered witches, All the shivering agues sit Warming hands and chafing feet, By the blue marsh-hovering oils : O the fools for all their moans ! Not a forest mad with fire Could still their teeth, or warm their bones, Or loose them from their chilly coils. What a clatter, How they chatter ! Shrink and huddle, All a muddle, WTiat a joy O ho ! Down we go, down we go, What a joy O ho ! Soon shall I be down below, Plunging with a grey fat friar, Hither, thither, to and fro, Breathing mists and whisking lamps, Plashing in the shiny swamps ; While my cousin Lantern Jack, WILL O' THE WISP 47 With cock ears and cunning eyes, Turns him round upon his back, Daubs him oozy green and black, Sits upon his rolling size, Where he lies, where he lies, Groaning full of sack — Staring with his great round eyes ! What a joy O ho ! Sits upon him in the swamps Breathing mists and whisking lamps ! What a joy O ho 1 Such a lad is Lantern Jack, When he rides the black nightmare Through the fens, and puts a glare In the friar's track. Such a frolic lad, good lack ! To turn a friar on his back, Trip him, clip him, whip him, nip him. Lay him sprawling, smack ! Such a lad is Lantern Jack ! Such a tricksy lad, good lack 1 What a joy O ho ! Follow me, follow me, Where he sits, and you shall see ! „ or THE UNIVERSITY Of 48 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH SONG Fair and false ! No dawn will greet Thy waking beauty as of old ; The little flower beneath thy feet Is alien to thy smile so cold ; The merry bird flown up to meet Young morning from his nest i' the wheat, Scatters his joy to wood and wold, But scorns the arrogance of gold. False and fair ! I scarce know why, But standing in the lonely air, And underneath the blessed sky, I plead for thee in my despair ; — For thee cut off, both heart and eye From living truth ; thy spring quite dry ; For thee, that heaven my thought may share, Forget — how false ! and think — how fair ! SONG 49 SONG Two wedded lovers watched the rising moon, That with her strange mysterious beauty glowing, Over misty hills and waters flowing, Crowned the long twilight loveliness of June : And thus in me, and thus in me, they spake, The solemn secret of first love did wake. Above the hills the blushing orb arose ; Her shape encircled by a radiant bower, In which the nightingale with charmed power, Poured forth enchantment o'er the dark repose : And thus in me, and thus in me they said, Earth's mists did with the sweet new spirit wed. Far up the sky with ever purer beam, Upon the throne of night the moon was seated, And down the valley glens the shades re- treated, And silver light was on the open stream. And thus in me, and thus in me, they sighed, Aspiring Love has hallowed Passion's tide. 50 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH SONG I cannot lose thee for a day, But like a bird with restless wing, My heart will find thee far away, And on thy bosom fall and sing, My nest is here, my rest is here ; — And in the lull of wind and rain, Fresh voices make a sweet refrain, ' His rest is there, his nest is there.' With thee the wind and sky are fair, But parted, both are strange and dark ; And treacherous the quiet air That holds me singing like a lark, O shield my love, strong arm above ! Till in the hush of wind and rain, Fresh voices make a rich refrain, ' The arm above, will shield thy love. DAPHNE 51 DAPHNE Musing on the fate of Daphne, Many feelings urged my breast, For the God so keen desiring, And the Nymph so deep distrest. Never flashed thro' sylvan valley, Visions so divinely fair ! He with early ardour glowing, She with rosy anguish rare. Only still more sweet and lovely For those terrors on her brows, Those swift glances wild and brilliant, Those delicious panting vows. Timidly the timid shoulders Shrinking from the fervid hand ! Dark the tide of hair back-flowing From the blue- veined temples bland ! 52 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Lovely, too, divine Apollo In the speed of his pursuit ; With his eye an azure lustre, And his voice a summer lute ! Looking like some burnished eagle Hovering o'er a fluttered bird ; Not unseen of silver Naiad, And of wistful Dryad heard ! Many a morn the naked beauty Saw her bright reflection drown In the flowing smooth-faced river, While the god came sheening down Down from Pindus bright Peneus Tells its muse-melodious source ; Sacred is its fountained birthplace, And the Orient floods its course. Many a morn the sunny darling Saw the rising chariot-rays, From the winding river-reaches, Mellowing in amber haze. Thro' the flaming mountain gorges Lo, the River leaps the plain ; Like a wild god-stridden courser, Tossing high its foamy mane. DAPHNE 53 Then he swims thro' laurelled sunlight, Full of all sensations sweet, Misty with his morning incense, To the mirrored maiden's feet ! Wet and bright the dinting pebbles Shine where oft she paused and stood ; All her dreamy warmth revolving, While the chilly waters wooed. Like to rosy-born Aurora, Glowing freshly into view, When her doubtful foot she ventures On the first cold morning blue. White as that Thessalian lily, Fairest Tempe's fairest flower, Lo, the tall Penei'an virgin, Stands beneath her bathing bower. There the laurellYl wreaths o'erarching Crown'd the dainty shuddering maid ; There the dark prophetic laurel Kiss'd her with its sister shade. There the young green glistening leaflets Hush'd with love their breezy peal ; There the little opening flowerets Blush'd beneath her vermeil heel ! 54 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH There among the conscious arbours, Sounds of soft tumultuous wail, Mysteries of love, melodious, Came upon the lyric gale ! Breathings of a deep enchantment, Effluence of immortal grace, Flitted round her faltering footstep, Spread a balm about her face ! Witless of the enamour'd presence, Like a dreamy lotus bud From its drowsy stem down-drooping, Gazed she in the glowing flood. Softly sweet with fluttering presage, Felt she that ethereal sense, Drinking charms of love delirious, Reaping bliss of love intense ! All the air was thrill'd with sunrise, Birds made music of her name, And the god-impregnate water Claspt her image ere she came. Richer for that glance unconscious ! Dearer for that soft dismay ! And the sudden self-possession ! And the smile as bright as day ! DAPHNE 55 Plunging 'mid her scattered tresses, With her blue invoking eyes ; See her like a star descending I Like a rosebud see her rise ! Like a rosebud in the morning Dashing off its jewell'd dews, Ere unfolding all its fragrance It is gathered by the muse ! Beauteous in the foamy laughter, Bubbling round her shrinking waist, Lo ! from locks and lips and eyelids Rain the glittering pearl-drops chaste ! And about the maiden rapture Still the ruddy ripples play'd, Ebbing round in startled circlets When her arms began to wade. Flowing in like tides attracted, To the glowing crescent shine ! Clasping her ambrosial whiteness Like an Autumn-tinted vine ! Sinking low with love's emotion ! Levying with look and tone All love's rosy arts to mimic Cytherea's magic zone ! 56 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Trembling up with adoration To the crimson daisy tip, Budding from the snowy bosom — Fainter than the rose-red lip ! Rising in a storm of wavelets, That for shelter, feigning fright, Prest to those twin-heaving havens, Harbour'd there beneath her light. Gleaming in a whirl of eddies Round her lucid throat and neck ; Eddying in a gleam of dimples Up against her bloomy cheek. Bribing all the breezy water With rich warmth, the nymph to keep In a self-imprison'd pleasance, Tempting her from deep to deep. Till at last delirious passion Thrill'd the god to wild excess, And the fervour of a moment Made divinity confess ; And he stood in all his glory ! But so radiant, being near, That her eyes were frozen on him In a fascinated fear ! DAPHNE 57 All with orient splendour shining, — All with roseate birth aglow, Gleam'd the golden god before her, With his golden crescent bow. Soon the dazzled light subsided, And he seem'd a beauteous youth, Form'd to gain the maiden's murmurs, And to pledge the vows of truth. Ah ! that thus he had continued ! O, that such for her had been ! Graceful with all godlike beauty, But so humanly serene ! Cheeks, and mouth, and mellow ringlets, Bounteous as the mid-day beam ; Pleading looks and wistful tremour, Tender as a maiden's dream ! Palms that like a bird's throbb'd bosom Palpitate with eagerness, Lips, the bridals of the roses, Dewy sweet from the caress ! Lips and limbs, and eyes and ringlets, Swaying, praying to one prayer, Like a lyre, swept by a spirit, In the still, enraptur'd air. 58 POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH Like a lyre in some far valley, Uttering ravishments divine ! All its strings to viewless fingers Yearning, modulations fine ! Yearning with melodious fervour ! Like a beauteous maiden flower, When the young beloved, three paces Hovers from the bridal bower. Throbbing thro' the dawning stillness ! As a heart within a breast, When the young beloved is stepping Radiant to the nuptial nest. O for Daphne ! gentle Daphne ! Ever warmer by degrees Whispers full of hopes and visions, Throng her ears like honey bees ! Never yet was lonely blossom Woo'd with such delicious voice ! Never since hath mortal maiden Dwelt on such celestial choice ! Love-suffused she quivers, falters — Falters, sighs, but never speaks, All her rosy blood up -gushing, Overflows her ripe young cheeks. DAPHNE 5