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 A PUBLISHER'S PLAYGROUND
 
 Publisher's Playground 
 
 As children vary play by mimic work, 
 
 Their sires by change of toil its sameness shirk. 
 
 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO. 
 PA TER NOS TER SQUARE
 
 
 T T ARD by the road that towards Parnassus went 
 •*■ ■*■ There stood an inn ; and in their fiery course 
 The passing poets here drew rein, and spent 
 Their resting hours — its sign the ' Flying Horse.' 
 
 Mine host a man of presence and repute, 
 Bustling about his house and stable-yard, 
 Sef^ied not a swain to trifle with the lute, 
 Or cultivate (except your cash) the bard. 
 
 Yet gradually, by long example stirred, 
 A restless fire within his bosom glowed. 
 And, choosing out a patron's steed, he spurred 
 The borrowed Pegasus along the road. 
 
 What awesome fate this impious clown befell. 
 Whether the highborn steed his rider threw, 
 Or, if he reached the slopes where poets dwell, 
 His friends but guessed — the critics said t/iey knew. 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VERSES WRITTEN FOR MUSIC. 
 THE LIFE OF THE YEAR Page 3 
 
 love's wisdom, 4 
 
 THE shepherd's WINTER SONG, .... 6 
 
 PHILLIS' (alOICE, 7 
 
 A MADRIGAL, g 
 
 CUPID'S DECADENCE, II 
 
 SUMMER DAYS I3 
 
 THE ELM BY THE PORCH 1^ 
 
 UNDER THE LIME-TREES, 16 
 
 DISCORD AND HARMONY 17 
 
 THE DISTANT VALLEY, 19 
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY 21 
 
 SUNSET, . 23 
 
 EIGHT SONNETS. 
 
 A CAUTION TO SONNETEERS, .... 27 
 
 THE IMPRISONED SOUL 28
 
 THE soul's freedom, Page 29 
 
 GENNESARETH, 30 
 
 CLOUDS, 31 
 
 ' THEN SHALL I SEE THEE,' 32 
 
 hone's 'EVERY-DAY BOOK," 33 
 
 life's PERPLEXITY, 34 
 
 DEVOTIONAL AND OTHER VERSES. 
 
 AN UNCONVENTIONAL SERMON 37 
 
 THE LORD IS THY SUN, 41 
 
 CAROL, 43 
 
 WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF 45 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 
 
 ANOTHER EPIC OF HADES 49 
 
 CLIMBING, 55 
 
 CHILDREN, 55 
 
 FROM THE VISITORS' BOOK AT THE ' ISAAC 
 
 WALTON,' DOVEDALE, 56 
 
 HUNGER V. JUSTICE 57 
 
 CAUSE AND EFFECT, 58 
 
 THE LAY OF THE WILY VILLAIN, . ... 59 
 
 IRATE AUTHOR AND PATIENT PUBLISHER, . 63
 
 VERSES WRITTEN FOR MUSIC
 
 THE LIFE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 WITH, faltering steps and wistful eyes, 
 O'er fresh green earth, 'neath changeful skies, 
 Comes the New Year in care of Spring, 
 'Mid sound of bees, and blossoming. 
 
 Exulting, bountiful and strong. 
 
 With bounding mirth and careless song. 
 
 O'er breezy hill, in shady vale, 
 
 'Neath Summer's eye the year grows hale. 
 
 Then comes the mellow Autumn near, 
 In russet garb, and leads the year 
 From vagrant ways to thoughts of home — 
 A kindly seer of things to come. 
 
 'Neath darkening skies, but cheery still, 
 The old year passes down the hill, 
 With hoary Winter hand in hand, 
 To join his sires in slumber land. 
 
 So fades the tranquil year away, 
 As calmly sinks a changeful day ; 
 Lay him in memory's shrine, and then — 
 God rest his soul : Amen, Amen. 
 
 3
 
 LOVE'S WISDOM. 
 
 He. SPRING'S kindly beams, with growing 
 
 ^--^ strength, 
 Are Winter's chills abating : 
 The sluggard earth awakes again. 
 All things around are mating. 
 
 She. All things are fair, but not for aye. 
 Trust not the earliest comer : 
 A single swallow on the wing, 
 'Tis said, makes not the Summer. 
 
 He. Though passing clouds may threaten rain, 
 
 They hide a silver lining : 
 The prudent maiden gathers hay 
 While Summer suns are shining. 
 
 Shr. There is a saying true but trite — 
 
 ' Men were deceivers ever ' ; 
 He. And this is trite as well as true, 
 
 ' 'Tis better late than never.'
 
 He. The autumn leaves begin to fall, 
 
 And still we both are single : 
 Winter is close upon our heels : 
 Suf'e both our lives should mingle. 
 
 Both. Then come Spring clouds, or Summer shine, 
 Sere Autumn, Winter's fetter : 
 Two prudent heads and loving hearts 
 Than one are always better. 

 
 THE SHEPHERD'S WINTER SONG. 
 
 NOW is dull Winter coming in, 
 When clays be short and nights be long 
 When fogs are thick and hedges thin, 
 And chilly winds blow grievous strong. 
 
 The flowers are hiding from the cold, 
 The winter wheat is lying dead : 
 The sheep lie closer in the fold, 
 The kine are dreaming in the shed. 
 
 The robin sings his sad ' chip, chip,' 
 The frost has hardened all the ground ; 
 The mavis seeks the ruddy hip. 
 And larks in flocks do fly around. 
 
 While quality and gentle folks 
 Have all the fun and naught to fear, 
 'Tis Fortune that we have to coax. 
 In this the winter-time of year. 
 
 Though squire be kind and parson prays, 
 We find it hard to 'void the lurch : 
 But here's a health to him that pays, 
 And here's to him that keeps the church. 
 6
 
 PHILLIS' CHOICE. 
 
 AS Phillis trips along the grass 
 Singing her country lingo, 
 She bears her pail upon her head, 
 With dimpled arms akimbo. 
 
 Adown the hill and o'er the brook 
 Comes Ralph, with love-lorn sighing, 
 Vowing by all the gods he knows, 
 His love for her undying. 
 
 0- 
 
 Across the ancient wooden bridge 
 Coiin, with deep emotion, 
 Hastens to prove himself her slave, 
 And show his true devotion. 
 
 They met upon the narrow bridge, 
 In both their arms they caught her : 
 While wrangling who should help her o'er 
 Her pail fell in the water. 
 
 ' Now he who loves me best,' she cried, 
 ' Will, quick, my pail recover ; 
 And he who brings it back to me 
 Shall be my own true lover.' 
 
 7
 
 In plunged the too devoted Ralph, 
 And down the stream he darted : 
 While Colin left the Maiden's side ; 
 Along the bank he started. 
 
 A moment hid, they come to view, 
 The pail between them handing ; 
 Colin has seized the dripping prize 
 While gallant Ralph was landing. 
 
 O plight of choice ! the maid, in doubt, 
 Now finds her case a wry one, 
 Looks down, and innocently says, 
 ' I think I '11 take the dry one. '
 
 A MADRIGAL. 
 
 LOW dies the day ; 
 So fades away 
 My light, at thy departing : 
 Heart's-life of mine, 
 This whim of thine 
 
 Doth work thy swain's unhearting. 
 
 Th'ough fading light 
 Gives way to night, 
 
 Kind Phoebus 'bates his measure : 
 What cheering ray 
 Can chase away 
 
 The night of thy displeasure ?   
 
 list my plaint : 
 My heart falls faint 
 
 Beneath thy cruel scorning : 
 Ah me ! forlorn, 
 
 1 wait till morn. 
 
 Thy favour's welcome dawning.
 
 As breaks the day 
 In glad array 
 
 So comes my lady's heeding ; 
 Love lives by lack, 
 Yet Cometh back 
 
 To find its needful feeding.
 
 CUPID'S DECADENCE. 
 
 IN ancient days, when all was young, 
 And Love and Hope were rife, 
 Dan Cupid fed on rustic fare, 
 And lived a country life. 
 
 He.rose betimes at break of Day, 
 And round the country harried, 
 Upstirring hearts that were unwed. 
 And soothing down the married. 
 
 But then, on wider mischief bent, 
 He hied him to the City ; 
 And finding much to suit his taste, 
 He stayed there — more 's the pity. 
 
 Men built him there a golden house, 
 Bedight with golden stars ; 
 They feasted him on golden grain. 
 And wine in golden jars.
 
 They draped his pretty nakedness 
 In richest cloth of gold, 
 And set him up in business, 
 Where Love was bought and sold. 
 
 And thus he led a city life, 
 Forgetting his nativity ; 
 Since then he's gone from bad to worse, 
 From Cupid to Cupidity.
 
 SUMMER DA YS. 
 
 SUMMER days have come at last, 
 Greet them with a roundelay, 
 Spring's short days and fickle blast, 
 Sure, were killed by May. 
 ,*• 
 
 Early shadows on the moor 
 Stretch their lengthy limbs, 
 Rising from the dewy floor. 
 The lark their rousing sings. 
 
 Drinking in the morning air, 
 Let us brush the heather. 
 Spurning toil and hollow care, 
 Bursting custom's tether. 
 
 Town and toil conspire life's death, 
 Sin grows rank in cities. 
 Here God breathes in every breath, 
 Here life wakes in ditties. 
 13
 
 THE ELM BY THE PORCH. 
 
 THERE stands by the porch a lordly elm, 
 Of rough and mighty girth, 
 And twice three hundred years have passed 
 Since the day that gave it birth. 
 
 Now say, old tree, what thou hast seen, 
 And heard of human life. 
 As thou hast watched the years go by, 
 With their times of rest and strife. 
 
 ' I see the stream of life flow on, 
 As the centuries go by : 
 Its bosom carries many a load. 
 But it bears them tenderly. 
 
 ' I have seen the mother bear her babe 
 To the font, through the ancient door, 
 And heard the children sing their hymn, 
 Of the life for ever more. 
 
 14
 
 ' I have seen the maiden, clad in white, 
 
 Pass on through the kindly crowd : 
 
 While flowers were strewn on her young life's way. 
 
 And the organ pealed loud. 
 
 ' I have seen the old man borne to rest, 
 By his comrades, pacing slow, 
 When they laid him deep among my roots. 
 While the organ murmured low.' 
 
 Long may thy bossy trunk stand firm, 
 And thy'fawney limbs spread wide : 
 Beneath thy shade for many a year 
 May the stream of life still glide ! 
 
 15
 
 UNDER THE LIME-TREES. 
 
 T T NDER the lime-trees straying, 
 
 ^ When the Spring days through them 
 
 shone, 
 Our young love loved delaying, 
 As we wandered there alone. 
 
 Under the lime-trees dreaming, 
 Through the balmy summer days : 
 Our full love ever seeming 
 A love that must live always. 
 
 Under the lime-trees waiting : 
 Watching the Autumn leaves fall — 
 A love that is aye abating 
 And soon may be past recall. 
 
 Under the lime-trees meeting 
 No more : for the boughs forlorn 
 A Winter's tale are repeating 
 Of a love that is dead and gone. 
 
 Alas for Spring's sweet spraying 
 Into Summer's passion tide ! 
 For Autumn, love betraying, 
 In Winter's coldness died. 
 i6
 
 DISCORD AND HARMONY. 
 
 VAN Gelder was a lonely man, 
 With neither child nor wife, 
 But still he lacked not harmony. 
 For music cheered his life. 
 
 Indifferent to wealth and fame, 
 'Oblivious of fashion, 
 Music was all in all to him — 
 His great consuming passion. 
 
 Although his heart was hardly green, 
 'Twas scarcely ' sere and yellow ' : 
 When young he loved his Celia, 
 But now he loved his 'cello. 
 
 He scraped away the ills of life. 
 And harmonised its sorrow : 
 He made the discord of to-day 
 The music of the morrow. 
 
 17 B
 
 The strongest heart has some soft place, 
 And Gelder was but mortal ; 
 He met one day his long lost * flame," 
 And love threw ope the portal. 
 
 He strove to drown with many an air 
 (Both forte and piano). 
 His feeling for his Celia 
 By fealty to his 'cello. 
 
 He tried a fugue of Scarlatti's, 
 And then a sprightlier tone : 
 He tried a leisurely gavotte, 
 With twists and double drone. 
 
 In vain he fought against his fate, 
 Tho' helped by Croft and Haydn : 
 The strife, though long and fiercely waged. 
 Left victory with the maiden. 
 
 And now, when, like his instrument. 
 Through years of song grown mellow. 
 He finds it possible to love 
 Both Celia and his 'cello. 
 
 iS
 
 THE DISTANT VALLEY. 
 
 O VALLEY wide and purple, 
 With white clouds sailing o'er, 
 Swarthing thy breast with shadow, 
 
 Shading the distant moor. 
 
 * 
 
 O valley rich in fragrance, 
 With noon-tide odours filled, 
 Shimmering in balmy vapour, 
 From hidden flowers distilled. 
 
 O valley full of singing 
 Of gladsome feathered things. 
 And undertones of humming — 
 An orchestra of wings. 
 
 O valley rich in colour, 
 Golden with furze and broom, 
 Rich in thy wealth of beauty 
 Of leaf and fern and bloom. 
 
 19
 
 O valley sloping southward, 
 Where many an ancient tree 
 Throws high its tangled branches 
 Against the far-off sea. 
 
 O valley still and silent, 
 Enveiled in mystic light, 
 Thy face is fair by noonday, 
 How passing fair by night. 
 
 O valley ever present, 
 Tho' 'neath far-distant skies : 
 Alas ! I only see thee 
 Whene'er I close mine eyes.
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY. 
 
 O GAILY sounds the shepherd's voice, 
 Far up the mountain's rugged height, 
 While wandering on from crag to crag, 
 On paths and uplands out of sight — 
 
 O )fi\\o would live a life of care, 
 
 Or toil in valleys down below, 
 
 While peace dwells on the mountain-side, 
 
 And days in sunny leisure go ? 
 
 Here high above the haunts of men. 
 Sweet herbs with fragrance fill the air, 
 And flowers, secure from greedy hands, 
 Deck out themselves in colours rare. 
 
 The distant hum of busy toil 
 Comes floating up from far-off' vales, 
 But reaches not the azure where, 
 With outstretched wing, the falcon sails.
 
 When evening spreads o'er all the land, 
 And shadows climb the mountain-side, 
 Day lingers longer round the heights, 
 And loves among our crags to hide. 
 
 O who would live a life of care. 
 Or toil in valleys down below, 
 While we can wander fancy free 
 Where days in sunny leisure go ?
 
 s 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 EE the eye of Day is closing, 
 Peering through its lid of cloud, 
 Looking back o'er all his journey, 
 
 Dreamily, and heavy-browed. 
 See, with length'ning arms of shadow, 
 
 'To the parting world he clings ; 
 'Twilight veils the sad departing. 
 O'er the scene his mantle flings. 
 
 Tellus yields his misty off ring. 
 
 Sad at Sol's declining reign ; 
 Homeward drive the lowing oxen. 
 
 Fold the tinkling flocks again. 
 Hark ! the beetle wheeling o'er us, 
 
 Drones his praise in fading light. 
 Calling forth to meditation, 
 
 'Neath the calm of deep'ning night. 
 
 83
 
 " .EIGHT SONNETS
 
 A CAUTION TO SONNETEERS. 
 
 A YOUTHFUL poet found a form of verse, 
 As finds a child its faculty of throat, 
 And well he loved and tried his nevi^-found note 
 Majestic, musical, and subtly terse. 
 And, like the child, the bard reached higher strains, 
 As exerflse and pattern gave him power, 
 Till, rn the usance of his bounteous dower, 
 He freed himself from imperfection's pains. 
 
 There comes a waking-time to child and man, 
 When what seemed best doth show itself to be 
 The very canker of complaisancie — 
 The infant's puppet fondled free from bran. 
 As droops the butterfly beneath the touch, 
 So fades the sonnet handled over much. 
 
 27
 
 THE IMPRISONED SOUL. 
 
 T PASSED along a narrow noisy street, 
 -^ Where, just above the hurrying crowds, there hung 
 A lark encaged, that yet right nobly sung, 
 With quivering wing and ever restless feet, 
 A heaven-born song towards the far-off stars. 
 But, ill expressing all his heart did mean, 
 Impatiently he spurned his patch of green. 
 And beat his swelling breast against the bars. 
 Here, said I, is a spring of worship, pent 
 Within a faithful heart, by sad mischance. 
 That, prisoned close through sordid circumstance. 
 Must needs well up and find its heavenward vent. 
 The heaven-born soul e'en while encaged on earth, 
 Oft carols forth in songs of heavenly mirth. 
 
 28
 
 THE SOWS FREEDOM. 
 
 I WANDERED o'er a breezy upland heath, 
 'Mid incense of a myriad flowers in June : 
 Where golden gorse unfolded to the noon, 
 And sloped to where the sea crawled far beneath ; 
 Above the undertone of minor birds, 
 The lark#held high their revelry of joy, 
 And fiUecJ the air with one sublime envoy 
 Of praise, that rose to where the blue engirds 
 The throne ; and, mounting in untiring flight, 
 They seemed to rise and sing, and poise above 
 In thrilling ecstasy of unpent love, 
 Bathed in the balm of God's eternal light. 
 Here, said I, surely is the gate of heaven : 
 And these the new-found songs of souls forgiven. 
 
 29
 
 GENNESARE TH. 
 
 WHILE yet the lingering twilight hides the land, 
 And chilly flaws of air spread t'wards the shore, 
 The fishers run their keel upon the sand 
 In weary silence, for their hearts are sore. 
 Missing the well-loved tones and cheering word, 
 With wistful eyes they see the light increase ; 
 When lo! the brighter glow reveals the Lord, 
 And all their gloom and void and yearning cease. 
 The Lord receives his friends with warmth and food, 
 And, while they scarce regard the heaven-sent meal, 
 With gracious words He cheers their downcast mood. 
 And by His kindness makes His presence real. 
 So come to us, O Lord, in mystic form, 
 And for our daily work our cold hearts warm. 
 
 3°
 
 CLOUDS. 
 
 THE mirky clouds that by their shade o'ercast 
 The sunless land with gloom and dull despair, 
 By sweeping hurricane and purging blast 
 Are riven up and split to cloudlets fair ; 
 These, passing o'er the edge of evening's realm, 
 Go on, th*ough breadths of amber-lighted air 
 To far-off lands, and with their glory whelm 
 The weary world in restful influence rare. 
 
 So all our stormy thoughts and gloom of mind — 
 
 The stagnant vapour of a noon-tide heat — 
 
 Whirled round and cleansed by healthful stir of wind 
 
 In brighter forms their darker selves repeat. 
 
 The clouds of doubt that rise in restless youth 
 
 In mellower light dissolve to restful truth. 
 
 V-
 
 ' THEN SHALL I SEE THEE: 
 
 O JESUS, when I near the gates of gold, 
 Coming .all dazzled from the world of night, 
 Veil Thou Thine image to my aching sight, 
 And gradually Thy face to me unfold. 
 For I have in my spirit ever kept 
 A picture of Thee, as a much-loved friend, 
 Drawn from all various sources that could lend 
 Reality and life to one so ill adept — 
 From all Thy wondrous words and gracious deeds, 
 Told by Thy friends who saw Thee here on earth : 
 From service, prayer, and visions that have birth 
 When thought takes wing and contemplation leads ; 
 This all must fade, though satisfying erst, 
 So Lord, in mercy, veil Thyself at first. 
 
 32
 
 HONE'S « E VER Y-DA Y BOOK: 
 
 WHEN wandering through some stately gallery, 
 Where pictures, gleaned from various times 
 and lands, 
 Harvest the labours of the noblest hands, 
 Trained by long toil to highest mastery, 
 We linge,!^ greeting with a glad surprise 
 The presence of so many well-known friends, 
 Who'eacli in turn for our reception lends 
 A festival for mind and heart and eyes. 
 Yet as we, satiate, leave the kindly roof. 
 Of him who garnered for our pleasuring, 
 We count the bounty but a little thing 
 That spent and spread for our ingrate behoof. 
 Good reader, when this well-filled book you close 
 Bless the deft hand that all its treasures chose. 
 
 33
 
 LIFE'S PERPLEXITY. 
 
 SAGE ^sop tells a tale of ancient days, 
 Of how a stork invites a fox to dine, 
 But with restricted means, his dinner lays 
 In flask of goodly girth but opening fine. 
 The fox tho' sharp, has not the sharpened bill 
 With which his friend extracts the savoury food : 
 So, sick of heart, and sadly hungry still. 
 He wanders homeward in dejected mood ; 
 Thinks he, ' The meaning's hard, the cause profound, 
 Why one so wise as I should be debarred 
 From getting at a good so near the ground. 
 While vulgar birds receive their blessings jarred.' 
 
 34
 
 DEVOTIONAL AND OTHER VERSES
 
 AN UNCONVENTIONAL SERMON. 
 
 A SUMMER day, 'most calm, most bright,' 
 ■^ ^ The very air seems holy : 
 The week's swift hours have run apace, 
 To-day they move more slowly. 
 
 The nery singing of the birds 
 
 Sepms different on Sunday, 
 
 As though they praised the Lord to-day, 
 
 But whistled on the Monday. 
 
 Across the meadows, hot and still, 
 Comes, with the scent of hay. 
 The music of the distant bells — 
 Let's go to church to-day. 
 
 ***** 
 
 From out the ivy-covered porch, 
 Rolling in waves along, 
 Swell forth the organ's mellow tones. 
 Mingled with holy song. 
 
 37
 
 WTiile resting on this moss-grown tomb 
 Come sounds of soothing rest, 
 Whispering to heart, and mind, and ear, 
 Of what is only guessed. 
 
 The lesson of the Father's eye, 
 And all-protecting arm. 
 Speaks to us from the azure sky, 
 With its all-circling calm. 
 
 The bounteous sun, whose generous beams 
 Flood garden, field, and wood. 
 Bless still, as in the ages past, 
 The evil and the good ; 
 
 Teaching, with patient constancy. 
 The lesson never learned, 
 How God repays his labourers 
 More than they ever earned. 
 
 The daisies, flowering in the grass, 
 W^arning the trustless craven. 
 Suggest the lilies of the field : 
 The passing rook, the raven. 
 
 38
 
 The sparrows, chattering in the hedge, 
 Recall the Master's words, 
 That, though not worth a farthing. 
 The Father counts His birds. 
 
 The robin, singing on the cross, 
 The tall reeds near the thorn, 
 All point to Him who suffered death, 
 'Mid mocking, pain, and scorn. 
 
 On yonder tower St. Peter's bird 
 TuHis to each wind that blows : 
 Jho' firmly resting on the church, 
 * Firmness he never knows ; 
 
 A kindly warning this of him 
 Who, though the Church's Rock, 
 Went out and wept most bitterly 
 At crowing of the cock. 
 
 The butterfly that flits above 
 The dial's time-stained plate 
 Tells of ' the spirits clothed upon,' 
 When freed from time's dull state : 
 
 39
 
 Cheering our hearts for those who lie 
 Beneath these mounds, and brings 
 To mind the thought that they, one day. 
 Will rise on new-found wings. 
 
 We lift our eyes with thankfulness 
 To where the swallows skim, 
 As rises from the ancient church 
 The benediction hymn ; 
 
 The mounting lark takes up the strain 
 And, making it his own. 
 In raptured language of the skies 
 Bears it towards the Throne. 
 
 Now swells again the organ's voice, 
 And from the porch's cover 
 Come forth the rustic worshippers — 
 The service must be over. 
 
 Here, lost in contemplation's dream, 
 We 've let the morning glide, 
 And missed the parson's sermon, but- 
 We 've heard the one outside. 
 
 40
 
 THE LORD IS THY SUN. 
 
 OLORD, Thou art not fickle, 
 As man is wont to be : 
 Who halts and doubts and changes, 
 And sometimes trusteth Thee. 
 
 But Thou art ever constant, 
 Like th' eternal sun on high, 
 That floods the earth with blessing, 
 Though clouds may hide the sky. 
 
 These clouds that rise and gather, 
 Between ourselves and Thee, 
 Are but the shifting vapour 
 Of our inconstancie. 
 
 Though from us Thou art hidden. 
 With darkness — to our shame — 
 'Tis we ourselves have covered ; 
 Thy face is there the same. 
 
 41
 
 As pours the sun for ever 
 Its gracious influence round, 
 Cleansing the dome of heaven, 
 Drying the humid ground, 
 
 So, Lord, shine Thou upon us. 
 Put Thou our mists to rout, 
 Beam on our stagnant vapours, 
 Bum up our sloughs of doubt. 
 
 42
 
 CAROL. 
 
 Tr\OWN from heaven winging, 
 -■--' Angels come singing, 
 
 Joyous news bringing 
 
 Of Christ our Lord. 
 
 .0- 
 
 All ye confiding 
 * ' In love unchiding, 
 '' Hail this good tiding 
 
 Of Christ our Lord. 
 
 Ye who, in sadness, 
 Mourning sin's madness, 
 Dare not in gladness 
 Welcome your Lord, 
 
 Leave the world's Babel, 
 Seek this poor stable, 
 — Ah ! tis no fable — 
 Come, see your Lord. 
 
 43
 
 Sinful and holy, 
 Great ones and lowly, 
 Yield your hearts wholly 
 Unto the Lord. 
 
 Learn what rich blessing. 
 Past all our guessing. 
 Comes through confessing 
 Jesus our Lord. 
 
 And ever praising 
 Love so amazing, 
 Unite in raising 
 Songs to our Lord. 
 
 44
 
 WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF. 
 
 ' I ''HE wind goes by, 
 -*- The dead leaves fall 
 Silent beneath 
 The churchyard wall. 
 
 Man, like the leaf. 
 Doth quiet lie, 
 Though deeper, he 
 Shall rise and fly 
 
 By Christ his aid, 
 And shall not stay 
 Where men and leaves 
 Do aye decay. 
 
 45
 
 MISCELLANEOUS VERSES
 
 ANOTHER EPIC OF HADES. 
 
 '' I ""IS said, in far-off countries, where 
 -L The lion seeks his prey, 
 
 The jackal helps him in the chase, 
 And pickings gets for pay. 
 
 This plan displays an instinct that 
 -*In man and beast doth dwell, 
 ' Which asks for labour's portioning : 
 And suits all parties well. 
 
 And, curiously, in old-book-craft 
 
 There still survives a class 
 Of hungry men called 'jackals,' 
 
 (And a thirsty too, alas !) 
 
 These, with a wealth of stratagem 
 
 Their faces oft belie. 
 Scent out the game, and hunt it down 
 
 For richer men to buy. 
 
 49
 
 In London town there lived a man, 
 
 A second-hand bookseller, 
 A man whom children would have called 
 
 ' A wicked story-teller ' ; 
 
 But as he dealt with sager folks, 
 
 \Vlio never said he lied, 
 The epithets applied to him 
 
 Were greatly modified. 
 
 The jackals knew him one and all, 
 
 And felt his penetration : 
 Still hunted for him usefully — 
 
 ' For a consideration.' 
 
 One day one called and said he knew 
 Where lurked •a.princeps Walton : 
 
 Its owner did not know its worth — 
 * A bird to put the salt on.' 
 
 Then Lyon plied his wicked wiles, 
 With sinuous questions working. 
 
 Till Jackal, taken off his guard. 
 Let out where it was lurking. 
 
 5°
 
 Then followed certain flowers of speech 
 Which we had best not follow, 
 
 Concluding with how Jackal would 
 'A- shilling like to borrow. 
 
 A customer then coming in : 
 
 Said Lyon, with a lour, 
 ' O Jackal, I 'm engaged just now ; 
 
 Call in in half an hour. ' 
 
 The interval poor Jackal thought 
 HeM spend in grateful rest, 
 
 So chose him out a hostel where 
 The whisky was the best. 
 
 Lyon saw Jackal up the street. 
 And safely round the corner : 
 
 ' Now for a plum from out the pie 
 Of some benighted Horner.' 
 
 He thrust his hat upon his head, 
 
 His tongue into his cheek, 
 And then he did a thing he had 
 
 Not done for many a week. 
 
 51
 
 Forgetful of economy, 
 
 He hailed a passing hansom, 
 
 Jumped into it, and tooled along 
 As if he bore a ransom. 
 
 The prize was safely hidden in 
 
 A narrow far-off street ; 
 But Lyon knew the neighbourhood, 
 
 'T had once been his retreat. 
 
 He found the owner easily, 
 And asked him what on earth 
 
 He did with such a dirty book, 
 And had it any worth ? 
 
 With nervous shiftings, hum and ha. 
 
 The owner said he thought 
 ' As how ' the book was worth a ' sov, * 
 
 At least so he 'd been taught. 
 
 * A Walton of this name and date would more than make 
 the poor rich ; in fact 'twill fetch some ^50 — now, won't it, 
 Mr. Quaritch ? 
 
 52
 
 Through Lyon's frame there ran a thrill 
 
 , Of deep unholy glee ; 
 But ne'er a muscle of his face 
 
 -Betrayed his ecstasie. 
 
 He paid the price as if it were 
 
 A sorry lot : and yawning, 
 To show he was not wide awake, 
 
 Bid Horner a good-morning. 
 
 Back came the lion to his den, 
 ^6 find the jackal waiting 
 ^ The coming of the king of beasts, 
 With patience unabating. 
 
 In bounced the lion with wrath assumed. 
 As though he had the rabies, 
 
 And with a twinkle in his eye 
 Said, ' Quod est tuum kabes ? ' * 
 
 * The dyer's hands the colour shows of whate'er is the vat 
 in ; surely the bibliophile absorbs a little Greek and Latin. 
 
 53
 
 Now Jackal did not understand : 
 
 But this he understood, 
 The wicked twinkle in the eye 
 
 Of Lyon meant no good. 
 
 Then walking out with listless step, 
 Growled Jackal muttering, 
 
 ' Of all the beasts that walk the earth, 
 This Lyon's truly king.' 
 
 'Twas many a day ere Jackal heard 
 
 Exactly how he had 
 Been overreached by Lyon — 
 But it turned him raving mad. 
 
 What think ye if these two should meet 
 
 In far-off times in Hades? 
 Would not poor Jackal say to him, 
 
 ' Lo, Quod est timvi habes ' ? * 
 
 * Good reader, don't in this reply see cause to be amused : 
 for in the kingdom of the dead, dead languages are used. 
 
 54
 
 CLIMBING* 
 
 THE ivy climbing upward on the tower, 
 In vigorous life its shapely tendrils weaves ; 
 But, resting on the summit, forms a bower, 
 And. sleeps, a tangled mass of shapeless leaves. 
 
 So we, while striving, climb the upward way, 
 And shape by enterpiise our inner lives. 
 But when on some low rest we idly stay, 
 Our purpose, losing point, no longer strives. 
 
 .0-' 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 THEY come to us in heavenly guise 
 But, growing bold and stronger. 
 Put off the mask and shed their wings 
 As legs and arms grow longer. 
 
 * While climbing, the ivy preserves its pointed leaf: but 
 when spreading out into a bushy head, the leaves lose their 
 delicate beauty and become rounded and unshapely. 
 
 55
 
 FROM THE VISITORS' BOOK AT THE 
 'ISAAC WALTON,' DOVEDALE.* 
 
 TV^ ING David said, ' In Princes pi:t no trust, 
 -'-^ Nor in the sons of men, who are but dust.' 
 Perhaps these warning words of inspiration 
 In David's day required no confirmation ; 
 But we, in light of higher social graces, 
 With deference suggest ' conditions alter cases. ' 
 Could Israel's king, when by his son o'erthrown, 
 Wandering o'er Kedron's brook, this vale have 
 
 known, 
 And had he been induced this spot to halt on, 
 He would have rested at the Izaak Walton ; 
 Here, soothed by rest and free from tribulation, 
 He 'd judge of men with kinder moderation ; 
 And taking down his harp, so long unstrung, 
 His new experience would thus have sung : — 
 ' Blessed is the man who most frequents this dell, 
 But thrice blest he whose home is this hotel ; 
 Here reigns a Prince whom you may safely trust, 
 Her laws are kindness and her charges just.' 
 
 Kept by Mrs. Prince. 
 56
 
 HUNGER V. JUSTICE. 
 
 LONE"Audry looked out from her high narrow 
 casement, 
 With a hey and a ho, for a prisoner is she : 
 All the revel of nature recalls her abasement, 
 From scolding and chiding when will she be free ? 
 
 Beneath on the greensward so shady and still o, 
 A batch of brown sparrows, with chirping and tweak, 
 Peck anci punish a comrade for some peccadillo. 
 Counting frailty and weakness should turn th' other 
 - cheek. 
 
 Anon the good housewife with hand on the door latch, 
 Scatters crumbs for the sparrows, the starlings, and 
 
 daws : 
 Loving food more than judgment, away flew the 
 
 whole batch, 
 ' We 've done j ustice to morals, let 'sbe just to our maws. ' 
 
 Sad Audry, now smiling, thinks of hope for the sinner. 
 
 And says to herself, to herself says she, 
 
 ' Mayhap my grim friends, when the time comes for 
 
 dinner. 
 Will display such compassion, and liberate me. 
 
 57
 
 CA USE &^ EFFECT. 
 
 PHRENOLOGIST. 
 
 I FEEL you are a poet, 
 And to this conclusion jump, 
 As on ' imagination ' 
 I find a wondrous bump. 
 
 POET {in fain). 
 
 Yes, I have imagination. 
 And the cause you well detect, 
 For my poems I showed an Editor, 
 And this bump is the effect. 
 
 S8
 
 THE LAY OF THE WILY VILLAIN. 
 
 * I "HE furtive sneak who filches from 
 
 -*- The bookstall's dingy rows, 
 Should by the ears be nailed aloft, 
 Along with kites and crows. 
 
 Now, listen, ye who covet books, 
 But don't know how to buy 'em, 
 
 Of one who played much deeper tricks — 
 But pray don't go and try 'em. 
 
 In London's dingiest bookiest street. 
 
 Not far off from the Strand, 
 There dwelt a man who dealt in books. 
 
 Short-sighted, wise and bland. 
 
 He had a partner for his help, 
 
 P'ar-seeing, pompous, bluff: 
 A man whom e'en his enemy 
 
 Would never call a muff. 
 
 59
 
 These twain, for want of better names, 
 Sluther we '11 call, and Slyum — 
 
 Now, gentle reader, pray don't try : 
 You can't identify 'em. 
 
 This worthy pair a client had, 
 
 Who, in his earlier days 
 Had honest been, but losing tone, 
 
 Fell into wicked ways ; 
 
 And straying far, and stumbling oft 
 O'er moral hill and hummock. 
 
 He came at last to filch a book 
 To fill an empty stomach. 
 
 And this is how he did the deed : 
 (Now, 'gentle,' don't you try it. 
 
 For though he took the book by guile. 
 He certainly did buy it ;) 
 
 He wandered into Sluther's shop, 
 
 As in the days gone by, 
 Where many a goodly tome he 'd bought, 
 
 At prices fairly high. 
 
 60
 
 And after peering round the shelves, 
 
 As was his wont of yore, 
 He chose a volume, small but rare, 
 
 Worth shillings p'r'aps a score. 
 
 Then, turning with abstracted air 
 To where poor Sluther stood. 
 
 He said, ' You '11 put it down to me ; ' 
 And Sluther said he would. 
 
 Their shop was long, and low, and dim, 
 Ihe front was ruled by Sluther ; 
 
 While Slyum 'kept the books,' and dwelt 
 In darkness at the other. 
 
 Our villain pushed his wicked way, 
 
 Past connoisseur and gull, 
 To where old Slyum kept accounts ; 
 
 For Slather's shop was full. 
 
 And there with conversation bland, 
 
 And specious balderdash. 
 He showed the book to Slyum, and — 
 
 He sold it him for cash ! 
 
 6i
 
 If furtive sneaks, who help themselves 
 To books from stalls and boxes. 
 
 Are treated like the kites and crows. 
 What should be done with foxes ? 
 
 62
 
 Irate Author. 
 
 WHENE'ER I take my works abroad 
 The publisher to see, 
 I inly feel a deep desire 
 To puncji the head of he. 
 
 Patient Publisher. 
 
 Whene'er he takes his works abroad 
 And brings them me to buy, 
 I inly sigh, but rarely say, 
 'You '11 be the death of I.' 
 
 63
 
 — AND what of him who towards Parnassus went, 
 Urging his steed as if it were his own : 
 Did he 'fall dead,' or reach his high intent? 
 With you, Good Reader, rests his fate alone. 
 
 I'rinted by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty, 
 at the Edinburgh University Press.
 
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