'■'■'^'■""itiiiiijilii liiiyiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil! I il I iniii;.' <^i-^' THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES Tho.mas CourtenayTheydon Waigseh f«l|L /t^^i^'^^' -"^-^7 /v^^ ,:^. /fJ^Z LELIO: A VISION OF REALITY. ETC. ETC. LONDON ; R. CLAT, rRlNTlR, BREAD STREET HILL. LELIO, A VISION OF EEALITY; H E R V R ; A x\ D T H E E POEMS. BY PATRICK SCOTT. LONDON : CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1851. TO JAMES AUGUSTUS ST. JOHN. My deae St. John, Though I am responsible for each individual expression and thouglit throughout the following pages, the greater part, nevertheless, has grown up under your eye, and been fostered by your advice. In dedicating the volume to you, I do not expect to shelter myself, behind your reputa- tion, from the attacks of criticism ; but I may be allowed to hope that that reputation will not suffer, by my acknowledging how greatly I have been aided by your judgment, and encouraged by your approval. Believe me. Yours very truly, P. Scott. CONTENTS. PAGE Preface . ix Lelio : A Vision of Eealitt 1 Hervor 79 The Soul and its Dwelling ...... 114 Life and Death 121 Calanus 134 Alexander 143 Exile 148 Light 150 Darkness 153 Phases op Being 155 On MY being Dagderreottped by my Friend Captain Reynolds 162 Persian Song from Hafiz 163 England 166 England (as it sometimes is) 170 PREFACE. SoJiE years since I amused myself witL con- templating the probable result in the case of a man about to commit what he felt to be a crime^ were he suddenly to behold the animated eye-ball, as it were, of the Phidian Jupiter, fixed on him and flashing with divine indignation. He could scarcely move, I thought, toward the commission of the meditated act, under the influence of that forbidding gaze. The question then naturally arose, whether there may not already exist something analogous to that fabled glance, for all Avho would not willingly exclude it from their vision — something which, unlike the beaming of a material eye, would not, as long as it was duly regarded, grow familiar from sameness, or weak by repetition. X PREFACE. Conscience may be made to perform this office; and the very fact of that performance being sub- jected to ourselves for its efficiency^ seems imme- diately connected with a difficult, and much contested point — the education of the human will, without violating the independency of its nature. The excellence of any picture that may be thus drawn, will be connected, in a measure, with the original constitution of the portraying mind ; but also intimately, as in material representations, with perseverance in the work, and concentration of thought during its progress. The utility of these delineations, who can doubt ? What man, who is not altogether hardened to such influences, does not, either before or after the committal of some questionable action, feel a sense of wrong obtruding itself on his notice, and which is too apt to become fainter and fainter, until, in the progress of time, it is entirely obliterated ? The period required for this destroying process will be greater or less according to the vividness of the original perception, and this last will depend on PREFACE. II the distinctness of the impression, as well as on the plastic nature of the substance on which that impression is made. If we can succeed in giving to the vagueness of feeling a palpable embodi- ment — a certain sharpness of outline and depth of colouring, the effect is the more likely to retain its hold on the mind, until the recurrence of a fresh occasion may call for a renewal of the effort. There can be no doubt that the pictures which the mind di'aws become frequently the greatest possible incentives to evil ; why then should they not be adopted as the auxiliaries of good ? Their utility, as I have before hinted, wiU depend greatly on their distinctness. The details of a powerful imagery must be used to heighten the effect. This is but what we may often notice, in descriptions of ordinary events, with reference to the impression they are calculated to produce. Tell a story, in simple terms, of some men who were left on part of a wreck in an open ocean, of whom one survivor only was found, and who had managed to support existence by feeding on his XU PREFACE. comrades, and the statement will not have the same effect, as if we enlarged upon the picturesque horrors of the situation — the natural repugnance felt by each man to the detested viands, but which slowly succumbed beneath the growing power of hunger — the revolting wish gradually exhibiting itself in the firmlv-set teeth and half- bestial glance, and the final rush and fiendish struggle for supplying the flame of life with that unholy aliment. Such force of colouring and prominence of delineation would I claim likewise for the pictures drawn by a retributive conscience; and to this I may add, that a reformative, as well as a deterring process, is strictly involved in this mode of representation ; — for what is reformation but true repentance ? and what is repentance but a vivid realization of guilt ? The reader who has gone thus far with me will readily understand, that in the eidola {etScoXa, images generally) I aim at such a palpable adum- bration of feelings and ideas as I have endea- voured to describe. I would give a local habita- tion and a name to our own avenging thoughts, PREFACE. xiii and which must be in some sort suited to the nature of the committed crime. The Scriptural reader does not need to be reminded of the con- stant recurrence of the Hebrew prophets to visible and tangible images for the particular purposes they had in view ; a system not now applicable as practised by them, but which, I conceive, may be modified and beneficially adopted in the way I have indicated. The pictures which I have called up are not the mere creations of sentiment, which have a satisfying hold on the fancy, but no influence on the formation of character. They are the em- bodiments of an evil conscience, put forward in poetical garb and prominence, and which I sup- pose to be forced upon the reflective part of man's nature, while he is still carrying on his schemes of worldly pleasure and aggrandisement. I imagine also the possibility of such means being adopted as correctives, after the dissolution between body and soul ; the latter, for the sake of adding force to the lesson, being at the same time exposed to the influence of the feelings and IIV PREFACE. passions to which it was subjected in its taber- nacle of flesh. With regard to the human action of this dra- matic poem (which action I constitute in depen- dence on the philosophical idea), I need only remark, that the scenes in which Leone figures are not unconnected with the principle alluded to. Instead of gazing on the mental portraiture of several remarkable events, he is exposed to a real exhibition of vice and misery, the consequence of his own actions. It requires in him but little eflbrt of the imagination to make a more general application of these exhibited results — to picture them as having taken place in the instance of another person, Avho had been exposed, though innocentlv, to the influence of the same evil DOwer which he had before exerted with success. In this point of view, his regret for the present must be evidently heightened by a mental vision of the purity which, in an analogous case, had nearly yielded to his attack, and dragged down happiness with it in its fall. Different na- tures, though subordinated to the same moral PREFACE, XV principle in the abstract^ require different appli- cations of it_, in accordance with the suscepti- bilities of their peculiar constitutions ; love (not sexual love, but the ar^anrrf of Christianity) being the only principle too pure and complete to admit of modification ; having, or being entitled to have the same essential influence on all minds, and to find a field for its exertion in all objects. And here, if any descriptions of female beauty be objected against me as overstrained and in- jui'ious, I would reply, that to him who has felt its full influence, no description can be exagge- rated, and that I conceive of it as culminating only on its moral meridian. The best things are also the worst, and to prevent the possibility of a coup-de-soleil, it is not necessary to extinguish the sun. Female beauty, as unquestionably the most perfect, may be taken as the type of all others, if due regard be paid, not only to correct- ness of feature and fineness of form, but to the high moralities, the domestic spiritualizations, as it were, which are imaged in any countenance that is perfectly lovely. '' I may speak madly," but XVI PREFACE. I can scarcely imagine tliat a man wlio is insen- sible to this highest specimen of the class, can have an open soul for any of the other modes of beauty which in one portion of my poem I have endeavoured to delineate. In reference to the following poem, it may be said of me, that, even if successful in my attempt, I prove nothing. I deny the justice of the accusation, if the real nature of moral proof be taken into account. I am not insensible to the charms of " demonstration," when the nature of the subject admits of it; but in matters of a moral cast, I conceive that powerful illustration, based on a correct analogy, partakes strictly of the nature of proof, whenever it can claim close kindred with those primary principles of our nature, which we believe without reflection, and practise without inquiry. As regards the leading poem, as well as the one entitled " The Soul and its D welling,' ' it will be remarked, that I lay down evil as necessary in the education of limited natures. It may be asked, Why did not the Deity create man at once PREFACE. XVll what he intended him to become eventually ? It seems, however^ scarcely possible for even Omni- potence to effect an end independently of al means. Means of some sort are necessarily in- volved in the very act of creation ; and to exist otherwise can be predicated of none but an un- created Being. If mankind could have sprung up perfect at once, there coiild have existed, so to speak, only one creature — for variety seems based upon relief and contrast, and to be imme- diately connected with imperfection. It has been observed that, in art, excellence of general effect can be attained only by the admis- sion of imperfect details, and we may imagine something analogous to exist in the nature of man. But be this as it may, the intention of Providence is clearly indicated in the various operations of his will. We have only to refer to the struggle that is constantly going on in our own minds, when we experience an involuntary leaning in one direction, and a distinct will in its opposite ; or to study the gradual perfec- tionizing of the brain in the human embryo — the Xviii PBEFACE. insensible gradations in animal life, from tlie simple zoophyte, to tlie most complicated organism; or the slow eduction of the earth into its present place of abode for our own species, — we have only to look at these, to be convinced that Pro\ddence works by methods involving both contrariety and progress : nothing is done without preparation, preparation is im- perfection, and whatever is imperfect is evil. LELIO ; LELIO: A VISION OF REALITY. e^ aveipov vTTap. — Find. Olymp. xiii. 93. Scene I. — A Banquet. Leone, Lelio, Ridolfo. LEONE. Come, come, ye somewhat lack in your allegiance To the red god we worship now, till he, We spoke of, claim devouter homage. Come — Drink and be happy, friends ! LELIO. But are the two The same, Leone 1 B 2 LELIO : LEONE. Yes, in fitting season, When love grows weary, then the kindling bowl Lights up each pause, and links the dying joy Unto its fellow's birth. But here's a song That suits the occasion — would it might inspire you As out of eyes that look'd on mine Love's brilliant lang-uage shone, My senses reel'd from more than wine. For head and heart were gone ! By the dreamy night, by the thoughtful day. Since first my peace was witch'd away ; Mid silent spots, and the haunts of men, I feel the fire as I felt it then ! Let learned fools the lamp-lit night With dusty toil beguile, And change, for wisdom's chilly light, The glow of beauty's smile ! To what do all their efforts tend 1 — 'Tis tiiith the means, and joy the end — The truth of woman's heart I prize, And drink delight from beaming eyes ! A VISION OP REALITY. 3 LELIO. The song is true for thee — the bowl ! 'tis but The satellite that glimmers on thy world Until its planet rises. Such is love — Thy love ! It is indeed a wandering star, A flash that blinds the heart to its own brightness ; The child of madness, and the sire of pain — The pain of a rebellious void, which asks The dangerous aid of mercenary wine !^ LEONE. Ay, cynic ! but that flash, the while it lasts, Hath such divine intensity of bliss. As mortal man might share — LELIO. With brutes, Leone ! True love should have no pause, whene'er 'tis born Of the consenting spirit ; and the mind, High as the heaven that gave it, does not stoop To edge the sensuality of joy : While through the full-summ'd hours of still delight (1) The auxiliary merits of wine are well summed up by the comic poet Diphilus, as quoted by Athenaeus : — fo iratri Toi^ t\ov \l/vxpoi tji 11 feo-Tot.— Kev. iii. 15. 8 LELIO : Were they but framed as sounding instruments To ring awhile in too harmonious cadence With nature's pulse, and then, unstrung, be cast Into unmusical oblivion 1 Oh ! cannot the all-working God direct By palpable leadings the discursive heart, Nor weigh upon the will 1 Could we but view The mighty fingers of Divinity Unfolding o'er om- head, and beckoning back From the onward path, who, who could pass beneath That awful shadow ? But it is not so. And must be best. Still could I wish to gaze on The form of things to earthly minds ideal, The real presence from which conscience paints ; Or see before me pass in specular vision The distant truths that form the essential sound Of which the world's hard life is but an echo ! What meets the eye at once, is seldom truth ; Earth's outward substances cast shadows which There is no thrift in grasping ; yet the sphere Of moral being hath its shadows too. But better than the substance ! Let me think — — Ha ! the time fits these thoughts, and these wild thoughts A VISION OP REALITY. ^ Have given formation to the dusky air ; Or, do I dream, or is the gloom around Heap'd into shape, such fitful shape as suits Impalpable things 1 Again 'tis there ! I see it Deepest amid the deepening shades, and growing In fearful life ; its features only seem Distinctly fashion'd, yet show less the impress Of physical nature, than the hot reflection Of a sun-hke soul ; as if creative power, Willing to give to mind a visible clothing, Materiahzed a God's intelligence ! Speak, if thou canst, and art not fancy-woven. What art thou 1— speak ! ANGEL. Thy bodied thought— the Angel Mission'd to show thee what thou wouldst behold — Again I tell thee, what thou wouldst behold ! LELIO. Ay, Avhat I would ; and yet, 'tis terrible This sudden step from warm humanity Into the life of disembodied things. ANGEL. Shrinkest thou, mortal 1 — darest thou look on such ? 10 ■ LELIO : LELIO. Shi'ink ! dare ! I slirink not — upon such or worse, Or anything save God himself ! ANGEL. 'Tis done ! Thus o'er thy mind I pass this mystic power, And thou shalt send it forth upon the fields Of esoteric truth, to gather fiaiit For the store-chambers of its mortal home ! Scene III. — The World of Spirits. Lelio, Angel, Eidolon. ANGEL. What seest thou, Lelio ? LELIO. Nothing ! ANGEL. Look again ; thine eyes Are not yet cleansed from earth. What seest thou 1 LELIO. Nothing A VISION OF REiVLITY. 11 Distinctly/ but as 'twere the flickerings Of undulating gloom. ANGEL. Once more, what seest thou 1 LELIO. Tliat which might shake a statue ! all around Dim shapes are looming into light, as flashes Of a pale flame, instinct with morbid life, Reveal the' infernal palace of the dead. Some He as if the sickness of despair Had fed upon their strength, and stol'n its colour From the unhoping eye ; — on ghttering thi'ones. Raised haply by magnificence of crime, Are seated kingly and yet drooping forms, The burning aristocracy of hell ! — One breath — what are they?^ (1) " And said to his servant, Go up now, look toward the sea. And he went up, and looked, and said, There is nothing. And he said. Go again seven times." — 1 Kings xviii. 43. (2) In Virgil, '^n. vi. 547, occurs the well-known description of the " omnes scelerum formse," and "omnia poenarum nomina;" but the souls are there represented as undergoing, after the death of their bodies, the necessary purgation in Tartarus, before being restored to their " carnal life." " aliis,— Infectum eluitur scelus, aut exuritur igni," &c. — 742. The nature of their punishment, moreover, is not, in general, indicated : — " ne quaere doceri Quam poenam," &c.— 613. On the subject of the classic hell being analogous to the modern purgatory, see St. John's " Manners and Customs of Ancient Greece," vol. i. p. 356, &c. 12 LELIO : ANGEL. Ask yon stately form With the worn brow, 'twill answer. LELIO. Say, what art thou 1 EIDOLON. The shadow of that self which earth stiU claims, Where yet I mount Ambition's breathless height. To overtop my fellow-men, lip-laden With the old freight of diplomatic vows. Listen ! the oily words which now I pour On the tried credence of the popular ear Come rolling hither on the winds of earth : — VOICE FROM EARTH. " My countrymen — oh ! deem not that I seek The perilous headship of this mighty realm For the unsatisfying pride of place. Oh ! not for this the long unslumb'ring nights And the hard days are wasted — yet not wasted, If the dear toil result in serving you !" EIDOLON. Stale falsehood ! Hark ! how Hades laughs in scorn When a knave speaks to fools ! — but here — but here Fix'd to the horrid height of this red throne, A VISION OF REALITY. 13 I bum with hoiu-ly thirst, while to my lips A golden goblet holds its foaming juice. But such a di-aught ! Oh ! could I die, nor di'ink. Down, down my throat the infernal beverage pours Insufferable fire ; down, down it rushes In an unsatisfied sea, and swells each limb Gigantically vast, until it bm'sts With the colossal pain. See — there ! 'tis there — That goblet, ruddy with unearthly wine ! VOICE FROM EARTH. " My friends ! how sweet the bitter draught of power, When the cup comes from your consenting hands." EIDOLON. Oh ! for one taste of that ! One — urge me not — It is not time to drink. Off, off my lips ! My veins are not yet cool ; 'tis cruel — ^thus — These rustling flames. Oh ! where is Hell but here LELIO. And what is that — that slender figure, mth Sylph-suited vesture on her gTaceful limbs. Whose sunken eyes yet boast some sparkles from The dying lamp of Beauty ? What art thou 1 EIDOLON. See, in the mirror of that murky vapour 14 LBLIO : What now I am. LELIO. I see a maiden form, With panting breast, and forward glance, as if She sought the hour which gives a thousand eyes To hang upon her jewell'd loveliness ! EroOLON. And that am I ! My heart, if heart it be, Is bounded in its walk by the low walls Of pleasure's evening haunt ; my dizzy life Finds not a resting-place for one short thought, Save that of earth, and its voluptuous fooling. But here, a sense of an un-outlined future Sits heavy on my breast — in paljDable shape Of a vast mountain it comes down, and settles Upon my form it crushes not, but suffers To quiver with a horrible life, beneath The superincumbent agony. Hark ! hark ! Echoed from far a flaunting swell of music, A quick light measure, wooing the response Of willing feet. I come, I come ; — but, ah ! See, slowly sinks that overhanging mass, Shutting from eye and ear each sound and sight That form'd their eai-tlJy food. On, on it comes ; A VISION OF REALITY. 15 Close, close — it touches ! — oh ! not nearer. Ah ! Angels of mercy, lift it off me now ! LELIO. But what art thou, whose hollow cheek is flush'd With a delirious spleudom- ? EIDOLON. I am one Who pay allegiance unto sensual idols, To a false love, and to the power of wine. Here, winning forms uprise into my arms. And, as I clasp them, skeleton hands throw out ''-'^•^ Their hateful length, and strain my shrinking face Into cold contact with the bloodless lips Of some half-human countenance ; and eyes — Great Heaven ! such eyes as might affright a fiend Look loathsomely into mine ; while goblets, like Those I so oft have quaff'd, seem mockingly To cry, " You loved us ; we are here again !" Then to my throat together rush, and down it Pour from then- pitiless mouths a stream 'gainst which My soul heaves in unutterable sickness. Ha ! hear'st thou not the festal sounds which float From the fai* earth — those soimds with which I wake The' unwilling ear of hea^'y-breathing night 1 — 16 LELIO : VOICE FROM EAETH. " Come, pledge me now, While the fates allow, In wine, red wine, to the goblet's brow ! The phantom miseries that appal The hypochondiiac's soul, Oh ! we wiU exorcise them all With the spell of the sparkling bowl. And if some cloud of thought awhile O'ershadow our midnight bliss. Heaven opens out in woman's smile, And the sun of our world is this. Then pledge me now. While the fates allow. In wine, red wine, to the goblet's brow !" EIDOLON. Yes, yes, my friends, we'll drink to woman now, As fits the god-like pledge ! What, here again, That ciu-sed draught, and those unearthly faces ! Give me the wine I love — not that, I say — Dearest, I clasp thee — Ha ! avaunt, ye fiends ! Who call'd on you 1 I will not drink — remove That clammy hand. Have you no death to slay me ? A VISION OF REALITY. 11 LELIO. See that wan figm-e, tliroxigli whose bloodless limbs Runs the faint shudder of imperfect life ; On its thin lips and glassy eyeballs creeps Horrible animation, like a corpse Awaking in its grave — before it hangs A chain, whose gaping noose seems strangely form'd Of glittering coinage. ANGEL. He is one who barters The birthi'ight of his place, the noble power Of judging man, for man's ignoble gold. LELIO. Now from the earth he raises his pale head, And sees the horror of that dangling cord, — Ha ! what a shriek leaps from his wither'd throat Scan-'d by the pressure of those savage links — Slowly it sinks upon him, round him, girdling The bony neck — in vain the fleshless hands Combat that murderous gripe — his eye — oh ! liide me From its sick look of ghastly hopelessness — He swings, he swings, to be revived and live lutenninably dying — oh ! enough, It is enough 1^1 feel my heart of flesh 18 LELIO : Is hardening at these sights ; my human mind Floats on, unsteer'd by thought, upon the sea Of such appalling horrors. Say, when will they See their last moment ? Will they not, in time, When the long presence of each fearful contrast Which the eye sees not in its misty life Shall, with the pressiire of co-working thought, Re-form the broken soul, as best shall please An unavenging God 1 ANGEL. Each sufferer Will tell thee that he knows not ! LELIO. But the God Who made them, knew the dangerous destiny Which he himself had fix'd — he might have moulded Their being otherwise. ANGEL. He has not, mortal. LELTO, True, 1 am mortal — move by limbs of clay Lent me for life's short use, but He wlio fashion'd The earthy frame-work, breathed the' undying mind That asks the question. See that low-brow'd thief. A VISION OF REALITY. 19 Bidding his fingers creep upon their prey Of some unworthy coin, did he but view The stern regard of the Eternal eye Planted upon him, could he dare the deed When every nerve were marble ? 'ANGEL. Ay — and thus Thou wouldst un-soul Heaven's handy-work, and make A man of marble, with a reasoning mind ! The eye of God ! 'Twere better let him fix His startled gaze upon the' organic play Of the fine life within him — how each part In delicate vibration moves between The limits of red health, and pale-brow' d death. 'Stead of that wondrous thing of hopes and wishes, Passion and appetite, and queenly conscience, Restraining, m-ging, kindling now, now calming, Yet all consenting to one end, to perfect From the alloy of necessary ill The brightness of the' immortal residue, Thy fabled work would end as it began, A skilful toy of animated stone Too heavy for thy art to wing to Heaven. But f(jr the eye thou paintest, turn in thouglit 20 LELio : To thine own breast, and see it beaming there, Clear, steady, and unchanging, like the depths Of a lake, mountain-hemm'd, until perforce 'Tis stirr'd by passionate gusts, or that some cloud. Born of the vapours of the fenny earth, Cast a defiling shadow on its surface ; Till then, and till then only, can it see On its own chamber pictiu'ed, whatsoe'er Thou hast beholden through thine outward sense. ■ This is the difficult wi-iting on the wall Which the mind reads, and 'tis to teach that mind Its noble knowledge, that the chainless will. And the persuading-s of the pliant flesh, ,.. Are used by the gTeat Architect who best Knows how to build up the pure soul He founded. Whence the hard ills that bruise the sensual frame, Or fret the feeling 1 these, to avoid or bear, By their material tutelage, educate That finer thing within thee — from thyself The' impidsive reason flows, that thou mayst fly The serfdom of necessity, and clasp An unliereditary diadem ! Survey thy threefold nature — Something thou Sharest with plants, and something with the life A VISION OF REALITY. 21 Of animal being, wMle in part thou seem'st An angel, though unplum'd, and by the slow And mystic fusion of these triple elements Thou yet mayst be exalted — ^but say, mortal, In what still further wouldst thou realize The ruffled impress of thy fleeting thought 1 LELIO. Cast me not oiF in darkness, if I say, The presence of my Maker ! ANGEL. Erring creatiu'e ! Thou hast beheld thy Maker, in as far As thou ca7ist see Him — to thy race 'tis giv'n To view the' All-present in his attributes. Then wouldst thou look on God the' All-powerful, On God the Ever-merciful, or which Of the endless flashes, whose consentient light Makes up the infinite lightning that would blast thee 1 LELIO. Pow'r — show me pow'r ! ANGEL. Away then — in thy breast I breathe the spirit that will bear thee up Unfaintingly above the realms of matter. 22 LELio : Away, on rushing wings that leave behind The sun-beam in its flight, and to the regions Unvisited by Heaven's extremest star ! Scene IV. — A Village Festival in the distance. Leone, Ihja. LEONE. Town 1 Surely not — no town can show a siglit So sweet as this — -this is the heart's own revel. When Nature dons her coxu'tly garb, she fears To ruffle its set shape, and hateful rules But trim the good exuberance of joy. ILTA. But then, the graceful step, the easy flow Of practis'd music ! LEONE. Music ? look around. Sky, earth, and eyes — the' intelligible Babel Of merry voices — happy looks that image The sun that shines upon them, and calm flow'rs Sprinkling harmonious incense on the scene, — All, all, are music : music does not dwell Prison'd in instruments, no moi'e than love A VISION OF REALITY. 23 Ls shackled by but 'tis a happy life, Thou'rt happy w-ith thy friends, and they with thee — At least, thev should be. ILYA. Why 1 LEONE. The heart is happy When with its inner gaze it looks upon Congenial goodness, and the eye is happy Whene'er it feasts on beauty ! ILYA. Ah ! the tongue Hath its town-music too ! LEONE. That strain is sweetest That best is touch'd with truth, but truth sounds harsh Ringing with praise upon the modest ear. And yet thou must have heard e'en rugged lips Grow smooth with their dear theme of eyes where beam'd Idolatrous light — of dimpling cheeks that show'd All pai'adise in bloom ; and then no doubt Thou didst most wisely raise thy heart above The first attack of love. Beware of love. Which with uncompromising strength compels 24 LELio : Each thought unto its bidding — I should hope Thou hast not lov'd ? ILTA. I love my mother, and My sister, dearly, and the youthful friends Who in return love me. LEONE. But nothing else 1 ILTA. But nothing else I know of — yet it may be — I had a pretty bird which took its food From my sole hand, and rub'd its little beak In kisses on my cheek ; it sicken' d, died, And then I wept, as losing that which knew me- Why did I weep if then I lov'd it not 1 LEONE. Poor thing ! but thou hast never felt as yet The love which spreads itself o'er many objects, Compress'd into one passion ] ILYA. What is that Of which thou speakest 1 LEONE. Happy maiden ! 'tis A VISIOX OF REALITY. 25 An ardent joy ne'er felt by him who could Fulfil it in expression — as when one Holding his hps above the foaming bowl Should coldly count the bubbles as they break. It is, to lose the world, and find it larger Within another's arms — to give up life And drink it doubly back from quick'ning eyes. 'Tis an unreasoning worship at the shrine Of the divinity one's self has rais'd. Fair maid, bewai-e of this — of aiight that tends To sell the soul to this great slavery, To place one's heart within another's hand And then go mad indeed ! ^ May the good spirits Who hover o'er thee shield their gentle charge From this hard fate ! ILYA. Thou dost believe the presence (1) These lines are taken from the Persian. The name of the author I do not recollect, but I believe it to be Ameer Khosroo. {J J- ij • • J • "Say, what is love?— to be the slave of one's life— to place one's heart within the hand of another, and become mad." 26 LELio : Of these invisible messengers on earth ? ^ LEONE. I do beheve an angel came from Heav'n To guard a maiden's goings, but he found That being cased in purity, and flew Back to his sky, but as he rose from earth Celestial beauty rain'd from his shook wings And left its light on thee ! But thou art weary, 'Tis time that I should seek that festal crowd For some smooth-handed partner. ILYA. Nay, not yet. Stay for awhile. LEONE. Why ? ILYA. Why 1 I know not — but — T like — we'd better go — that is, I think Thou'd'st better go. ( 1 ) Hesiod and Plato adopted the notion that good men, upon their decease, were converted into the guardian spirits of those who lived after them. (See St. John's Ancient Greece, vol. i. p. 3G4.) A belief in the metempsychosis prevails in a singular manner among the rude natives of Australia. One of these uncivilized beings whom I met there, used to assert that a friend of mine (an Englishman) had been his brother in a preceding state of existence, and had consequently risen in the scale of creation. A VISION OF REALITY. 27 LEONE. First wouldst thou hear the song I promised thee, my friend 1 It flows Hke this : ^ A maiden ask'd of a youth one day Who had wander d to where the sunbeams fall On the South and the West and North, to say Which he deem'd the loveliest clime of all. (1) This song is paraphrased from the Persian, being the commencement of the 3d Book of the Musnuvee of an author whose name I do not recollect. Some writers have advanced the opinion that in the love songs of the Arabian and Persian poets, a religious meaning lies concealed — that, in short, the minds of their authors, ravished by a sense of the Divine perfections, were carried out of themselves, and seized upon the excited expressions which would be employed by men indulging in the highest sensual delight. The reader will find the subject discussed at length in Sir William Jones's " Poeseos AsiaticEe Commentarii," cap. ix. ; and I shall only remark further, that if the above opinion be correct, the poets in question must have had a great deal of religion, as they certainly had a great deal of love. To assist the reader's judgment on this point, I shall here do myself the pleasure of quoting two specimens which were translated, literally and almost impromptu, by a lamented friend of mine, George Maxwell Batten, who died at an age too early for his great abilities to have reached their full development. LALURUKHA, SUMUN-BURA, &c. By Khakanee. Who art thou, maid, with jasmine breast, Who art thou, spoiler of my rest? With cypress-shape, and tulip-cheek. Tyrant of hearts, I pray thee, speak. Like the new moon, thy radiant brow Is arched in glory — who art thou ? Ah! spare me, dear distracter, spare. Nor blight my spirit with despair ! [I've 28 LELio : "I have roam'd to the South, and the distant West, And the chilly North, but the brightest spot Was that with the one lov'd presence blest, And the darkest of aU where it was not ! I've seen thee, like the cypress, move, And pour'd a thousand sighs of love, I've seen tluneeyes, — tlie sight I rue ! Life of my soul: who art thou? who? Where'er thou roam'st, in all the bowers, Thy steps create a world of flowers ; Who art thou with those lips of rose, And mouth where honied balms repose ? Who art thou, nymph with bended bow ? With ready snare I see thee go, I see thee point thy flaming dart. And feel its poison in my heart ! Who art thou, maid of charms divine. For whom Khakanee would resign The world, with all that mortals crave. And live, proud girl, and die thy slave? FROM AMEER KHOSROO. (Very literal.) Portray thy beauty as I will — The charms which move witli envious ire The idols circling Azor's fire — Thou art more lovely still! For mortal vision ne'er did greet An image fairer than thy face — See ! captive to each witching grace, The world is at thy feet ! No more the sun, nor moon I see, Nor gleaming meteor in the skies; Apostate to thy radiant eyes, I own no star but thee ! [Brighter A VISION OF REALITY. 29 " My heart grew sad in the merriest land, If $he were not by each joy to share; And oh ! I could fly to the desert sand, And find an Eden when she was there ! " Thou art that star of my soid, and dear Would I deem the gloomiest dungeon-ground, If, rising in beauty, thou wert near, To scatter the light that I live by round ! " ILYA. 'Tis a sweet air, but has a touch, methinks, Of that same perilous passion thou didst speak of Brighter than aught I can impart, More sprightly than the fairy's wing, More soft than rose-leaves in the spring. By Heaven ! how dear thou art! Realms far and near I've traversed o'er, Have worshipp'd many an idol's shrine. Seen many graceful, soft, divine, But thou art something more ! ] — thou — the soul and body ! None Shall henceforth e'er declare That we are but a loving pair ; — Oh ! dearest, we are one ! Poor, and forlorn with passion's strife, Within thy sphere, by luckless chance, Khosroo has fallen : oh ! give one glance, And look him into life ! N.B. The great difficulty in translating these Eastern poems, lies in their want of connexion. 30 LELIO : LEONE. Has it 1 then will we fit it to be sung Unto the chaste ear of the listening moon. And now together — but stay, let me brush That insect from thy dress — presumptuous thing To crawl on holy ground ! ILYA. Nay, kill it not ! It has its slender life, and that contains Some little joy perhaps, though not so full — LEONE. As mine is now — oh ! could I add as ours ! Come — we will join them, lest they note our absence. (Aside.) She's very pure, but very beautiful, Would she were less of either ! Scene V. — Space. Lelio, Angel. ANGEL. What seest thou, Lelio ? lelio. Let me look again, For my sense swims upon a boundless ocean, Struggling against its own magnificence — A VISION OP REALITY. 31 I see the flashings of bright points that pierce The solid night, whence floats a spinning sound Of a low melody — while round me ripples Impalpable ether, whose conflicting waves Breaking in flame, the evanescent bloom Of blackest darkness, show nought near but thee Standing beside me in untenanted space ! Behold ! immeasurable shadow creeping O'er the clear void, and from a foiin that might be The form of man, could the weak eye take in Its limitless outline, stretches forth a hand, Within whose hollow rests a new-born world ; The other ann extends a mantle o'er Its naked limbs, and showers all forms of matter And fire of mind, upon its mighty surface, Heaving the pulse of a stupendous life ! A little while those awful fingers poise The trembling globe, then hurl it flashing from them — Away, it rushes through the lash'd ah', waking Time into life, and night to light — away — Lifting its voice of giant joy, and shouting To the unbounded universe, to welcome A radiant brother of God's ancient stars ! Fearfully wonderful ! 32 LELio : ANGEL. No ! not wonderful, There is no wonder to tlie mind that holds A full conception of Omnipotence. That thine eye startles at a vision, which Thy knowledge hath seen calmly — that thou canst not Look with a sense as ample, from the height Where earthly science rais'd thee, this but shows The double life thou liv'st in time, as hanging Midway between two worlds. Is God all-powerful 1 Yet thy soul wonders at a single deed Of Him who can do all things ; stars of Heav'n, And stones of earth, do sjDring, and can but spring Unto the bidding of one voice, which calls them To be where they were not — the God who made The insect of a day, a little day Of intricate life, is as omnipotent As he who from the hollow of his hand Showers worlds, like sparkling dust ! But now we Ijend Our flight to thine own globe, and pois'd above it Gaze on a glorious picture, which the hand Of Providence hath traced immutably Upon the tablet of far-stretching time. From thy mind's earnest vision I cast down A VISION OP REALITY. 33 The dust of doubt .... And now thy trembling lips Breathe the thin air of this sublunar height, — Look forth ! Scene VI. Lelio, Angel. LELIO. I see Time rising on the' horizon Of a fresh -world : his wet-clogg"d wings flap slowly Over unpeopled plains, but on he speeds, Seeing new life spring rovmd him as he flies, And empires dawning in the early East. And now, a mighty Angel ^ darkens earth By his vast presence ; on the highest top Of a far mountain-peak one foot he plants, Placing the other on a golden throne That rises by the waters — with a voice That in their courses shakes the' unlimited stars, He cries aloud, and by the eternal God Swears that the time is come — fultill'd the work (1) Kai €i5oi' ciXXoy a77eXoi' taxvQ^^v KaTCi/3aivovTa eK rev oi'onvov,...Knt wfioaev (rv ruj ^wvti el? tou? aloJi-a? twv ai(t>i/coi/...oTf \p6v09 ovKtTt tarat. — Rev. X. 1, Szc. See also, Dan. ii. 38, 39, &c. 34 LELio : Of its dominion, that the growing earth Asks for another ruler. Down it sinks, Tliat tlirone, in thickest night, and mid the dark Clouds that rush upward from its ruin, rises A double crown, from which a silv'ry light Is shed vipou the nations. Thrones on thrones Rise like the undulations of a sea Storm-lit by lightning, whose huge crested tops Glare for awhile exultingly, then drop Into unfathomable blackness ; but Throughout each change a man-shap'd form I see Riding unhurt upon the waves of death And gathering strength frum desolation ; More clearly, proudly shines its typical brow. And every tempest-flash, and every roar Of ruinous thunder, passing o'er it leave A brighter eye. and more xmbeating heart. Yet are its limbs not free ; in vain it writhes, With strength that faints not, 'gainst the chains that bind The freedom of its going — link by link Outstretches the strain'd metal, 'neath the arms That grow upon each effort, while the Angel Smiles with consenting love, and cries, " 'Twill come. A VISION OF REALITY. 35 But the time is not yet, not yet thine eyes Are school'd to see the Sun ! " ANGEL. The noble limbs Of early nature, in their strength rejoicing, Are meant to move, but not undisciplin'd Rush on another's ruin, or their own. Man's mind must yet pursue its heaven-ward flight, Unravelling the many ties in which God hath bound up creation ; war shall still Link different nations in the brazen bonds Of rude companionship, and commerce spread From sea to sea her civilizing sail. Look forth again. LELIO. 'Tis silent, and there waves An iron sceptre o'er the world, whose shade Rests on the kingdoms from rude Britain's shore Far as the snowy heights of Caucasus, And from West Afric unto Palestine. Ha !— hark ! what makes the earth shake as recoiling From a dark deed done on it — the pale stai'S Glare down like spectre eye-balls, through the shroud 36 LELio : Of dead creation — the belea the eyes seem'd here, as they went and came, Like hatred vivified in flame ; < )r, what was worse, in their filthy roll. Like cesspools, ciu's'd with a vital soul 1 Yes \ the isle had many a feai'ful sight, "Twasn't the least like the Isle of Wight ; For there you havn't by day or night The slightest cause to be in a fright ; And the very flow'rs grow up as bold As if their sap had never run cold. Nc)r was it like in the smallest degree Any one island that swims in the sea From the English Channel to far Japan, Any more than Brougham's like another man ; Vet Hervor look'd while she strode along As if in herself she was cas'd too strong For the whole of its nasty things to liarm her : — lint what on earth does she do in armour, With only her head uncover'd, to let her See her way by the light of the moon tlie better 1 HERVOE. 87. She sprang from a warrior-race ; her sire Had a sou], half iron and half fire. He was a mau of contradiction, A thing like Sibby, of snarls and snatches, A living box of Congi-eve matches, " Ignited with the slightest friction." And all his eleven brothers, too, Were men to have frighten'd me or j'ou. Their spirits burnt and blaz'd away. Till the enemy put them out one day. The maid of a royal lineage came, And Angantyr was her father's name. He was the monarch's heir, and took From his king-papa a kingly look ; And fought, to save his native land, As long as his legs would let him stand ; For not an inch would the hero yield Till cut into rags on the battle-field. They laid his brothers and him to rest In the isle of Sams's barren breast ; And that their big bones might have room, Placed each one snug in his private tomb. Now Angantyr possess'd, 'tis said, A sword caird Tifliug, a ma^ic bliide, 88 HERVOR. With an edge — I say it qviite sincerely — Which cut your breath to looh on it merely. More pointed than Disraeli's wit, (Else 'twould have made no particular hit ;) Keener than north wind ever blew, And sharp as a man that could cheat a Jew. Tliis sword was burial some sis feet deep With the monarch's son in his mortal sleep. Twas said that in that spacious tomb The steel from corner to corner reaches ; As heavy as the head of Hume, And long as Chisholm Anstey's speeches ; And xmless it was brought back again From the side by which it of old had lain, The land could never — so wise men spoke — Throw off the conqueror's hated yoke. And now, why Hervor sought that place _ Is plain as nose on warrior's face ; I In which fine feature sages find The index of the martial mind. She was bold, I said, but on such a night. In such a place — as well she might — She had a sort of a fanciful fear, HBRVOR. 89 That whatever she saw, though uncommonly queer, Was merely a joke to what might be near. A thought which may rise in the brain of him Who tries his nerve and his constitution When the world's in bed, and his light grows dim In reading St. John on revolution — Gunpowder put into type, 'tis hinted it Blew up a score of the men who printed it. Yet on she went In her strong intent, Straight as an an-ow from cross-bow sent ! The horrour that first beset her track (To give her a hint she'd better go back) Was a cm--like thing of a goblin breed. Which look'd like a very lean dog indeed. His twinkling eyes had sunk within The ragged folds of the yellow skin. 'Twas long-drawn hunger had made him so ; He had eaten his father long ago. And he dug up a man from the ground below, Who there for a thousand years had lain. Where never had fallen one di-op of rain, Preserved as fresh in his sapless bloom As ever a mummy in Egypt's tomb. 90 HERVOR. The flesh was tight as the wings of a bat, And he couldn't conveniently dine off that ; But he tugg'd away with his famish'd teeth Till the skin crack'd off from the bones beneath ; And the juiceless shreds hung shrivell'd and brown From the parch'd-up throat, which they couldn't get down ; While the brute look'd up with accusing eye, And there seem'd a voice in his choking cry, *' One drop of blood, or I die ! — I die ! " T^us, seek the land whose soul hath lain Chain'd by an ancient death within. Although no fetter gall the skin And bid it be alive again ! Exhume the spirit of the past, And summon there, to break their fast,v The heroes of a name. Mark well if aught but memory bleeds When told the tale of former deeds, Then own how small the life tliat feeds Upon the corpse of fame ! No — no ! v/here'er sii,ch shackles bind The action of creative mind. Can freedom, glory, find a home ? 1 HERVOR. 91 Alas ! it were as well To seek a rest in mountain flood, Or ask that life should dwell Where mitred vampires drain the blood From the proud heart of Rome ! But on the maid went In her strong intent Straight as an an-ow from cross-bow sent. Then up rush'd a well-develop'd flea, As big as as a middle-aged frog was he ; His salient eyes of gooseberry green, Hung- over the button-like nose between : With a clinking cry, which one might deem Something between a sneeze and a scream. He perch'd on her cheek with a skip and scoff, But she seiz'd on his leg and hurl'd him off. Torn from the stem wdiere it long had grown, The leg was left in her hand — alone ; And blest with a life which would never say dead. Kept kicking on without body or head !. So in the world's life you may see A nation's strange vitality. 92 HERVOR. Though inwai'd factions seem to tear Its bowels out, yet still 'tis there. Though priesthood like a beggar ride it, With tyi'anny horsed high beside it, And then, so very close the fit, That morals can't find room to sit ; Though grown so old that it forgets Its ancient fame and modern debts ; — It still sui-vives, now weak, now strong. Dragging its useless life along ; And can't by any means be brought To die in quiet, as it ought ! Die ! — if it live but to display Its cumbrous length in freedom's way — Die ! — if the blood that in its sons' Plebeian veins yet nobly runs Will not rise up to drown the shame That clings around each high-born name — Though fair the land, though nature would That all its sons be great and good ; What matter this, if forc'd to wait Till the slow spirit germinate, We watch the barren ages roll O'er that cold climate of the soul ? HERVOR. 93 For now the sun, the air, the ground, Expanding their hixuriance round, Are but a glorious mantle, spread Above the unimpassion'd dead ! And next a brute of mongrel race With grisly limbs and human face. Upon her pathway growling stood, And rais'd its muzzle wet with blood. — Such blood as the accursed knout From woman's gentle flesh wrings out. Aye, doubt the w:ord, and shake your head, Sceptic ! 'twas woman that I said ! Go view, if view thou canst, the pangs That follow the descending fangs Of the fierce lash, like bird of prey Rending the innocent skin away. The heart, whose loving strings would break, O'erstretch'd, for man's unworthy sake. Bounds with tli' inhuman pain, and high That beautiful, confiding eye, Lifts up in each appealing tear, A prayer for mercy — mercy here ! 94 HERVOR. Away ! and that foul sight impart To calmest saint who has a heart ; And he will spring from earth, and there Shout to mild Heav'n his passionate pray'r, To make each bloody drop that fell Dilate, and form the torturer's Hell ! This brute was ruder than the rest. And had within his shaggy breast A heart 'gainst which a stone would sj)lintei> And colder than a Russian winter. He charged with most unmanly spite Against her legs, and floor'd her quite. But up she sprung, and though the skin Peel'd off her forehead, she scom'd to mind it, Resolv'd her glorious prize to win. Though Nick were before, and his fiends behind it. Her spirit was fearless and hadn't a shackle on, And all she required was a bit of diachylon. So on she went In her strong intent, Straight as an arrow from cross-bow sent. Then whisper'd a serpent lean and long, With a sugary voice and wicked will. HERVOR. 95 " Allow me, madam — you're going wi'ong, Your v.-ay lies over that flinty hill." But she found when fiitigue had with drowsiness diTigg'd her, That the scaly villain had only humbugg'd her : — Tiieu he wasn't a gentleman born, that beast, And told, ev'ry hour, one lie at the least, Truth ! Where is truth ? the learned tell It lies at bottom of a well. 'Tis deeper, if that fact's well founded, Than most men's plummet ever sounded. But ivhat is truth ? the soul's best aid When the world goes in masquerade — A face which treaty-makers find Convenient for the lying mind. A solemn lesson leai'nt at school. For the grown man too grave ; The plaything of the honest fool. The' artillery of the knave. It is, to see chmb Fortune's wheel The rogue who only does n3t steal — 'Tis shorten'd means, and straiten'd breath, To die in life, and live for death ! D G HBRVOR. A buU-toacl sat on an easy stone, Cooling bis carcase, alone, alone. Without a wish, and without a fear, As he lazily tickled his starboard ear. She ask'd the thing as she drew up near, In tone as humble as any slave, To show her the way to her father's grave. " Your father's grave," cried the brute with a sneer, " I doubt if your mother knows you're here — " I'm afraid you're after no good, my dear." Wonder and rage lit the Amazon's eyes, As the light'ning leaps forth from a storm in surprise. To see what dares check its high course in the skies. She swore — but I forgot myself there — She was a lady, and didn't swear ; And ladies, especially princes' daughters, Are purer than frozen Wenham waters. " You filthily-spotted rogue," cried she, " Do you dare to throw your jokes at me 1 "■ I never beheld, by the beard of Jove, " Such an unhung knave out of Sydney cove." Now this, though you perhaps think she swore. By her country's custom, was no more Like an oath, or any thing bad at all. Than the Bishop of Exeter's like St. Paul. I HERVOR. 97 And she look\l so fierce too, and held up her hand. That the toad soon lost all his self-command, Fell from the stoue upon which he was sitting. And kick'd on his back, as if life were flittinj;. " Come, I want to be off," she cried, — " Certainly, Miss, I can't have the smallest objection to this. (.ross that ridge in front, and then turn to the left, When you'll come to a kind of a rocky cleft, Where / could scarce shove my body through, As thin as I am, not to mention you. After that you'll see it — a little on — As plain as a steeple — now do be gone. (What an ass I was to tiy my tricks on A girl like that — she's an awful vixen.") Now, reader, betwixt me and you I do admire this toad : — 'tis true He was a brute, but then at least He was a most imcommon beast. With heavy head and sensual heart, He might have fill'd a higher part, And made, though Britain should prefer Some other thing to inile o'er her, A glorious king of Hanover. H 98 HERVOR. Here note especially, I pray, One thing in this flict-founded lay, (Though in my meaning it is true There may at times be some confusion) — How very strictly I eschew The slightest personal allusion. Just take this toad for instance — he Is merely what a prince might be In some small GeiToan state, whose name Sticlcs half-way in the throat of fame ; So small that in the world's great bustle, it Is scarcely worth one's while to hustle it. His duties would be, smoking, drinking, And other easier thing's than thinking ; To wear a red coat, starr'd and gilt, And look as fierce as if he'd spilt The blood of Europe ; (by-the-bye To rise in the world's favour high, The surest plan, though rather odd, is To stand on other men's dead bodies.) And when he's kindly got a son Just like himself, his work is done— But stop, — he ought too, now and then, To condescend to common men, HERVOR. 9.9 And drive in public, showing there, How royal lungs breathe \Tilgar air ; And, oft as with " God save the king" Hi& subjects make the welkin ring, Bow, after every shout that rent it, And smile — as if he thought they meant it. But on the maid went In her strong intent. Swift as a shaft out of cross-bow sent. Yes on she went wing'd anew, like an arrow, And came to the cleft — 'twas exceedingly narrow — But what, what saw she there on high ? Was it some linen stretch'd out to dry 1 But no, there wasn't a laundress there, To wash the clothes there were none to wear. Was it a scare-crow stuck up in play, To frighten travellers from their way 1 Oh ! no — in that desert there wasn't the least Accommodation for man or beast. Ye powers of good ! 'twas a Tnan that hung Over that narrow pathway swung. To the bony neck through ages past, The rope had clung than a friend more fast, 100 HERVOR. The flesh was on him, though shrivell'd and dead, Like a fallen fruit whence the juice hath fled, And the eyes look'd honibly forth, as if Some life was in them, though glazed and stifi", And the whole form seem'd, as a shake ran through it. As trying to die, though it couldn't do it ! A crown in radiant mockery beam'd Upon its cold and ghastly head. And you might read upon its rim, As to and fro the spectre swings, The names of nations blazon'd dim, And numerous, too, they seem'd As those that crouch beneath the spread Of Austria's eagle wings. She sought to pass, but the lean thing lifted Its spiny hand with a clutching air. And she felt as if all the blood had shifted From her own warm heart to that figure there. Thrice she advanced on her terrible track, And thrice the live corpse drove her faintingly back — Brokenly breathing a hasty prayer To her country's gods, whoever they were. She made a desperate rush to clear That rocky pass, and that form of fear. HERVOR. 101 Its legs, witli their skin of slaty hue, Trail'd over her neck as she hurried through ; And the nails, which had grown 'till they reach'd the ground, Broke on her back with a scraping sound, Droopingly, then, she sat and dreary On the cold and desolate ground alone, Nothing to cheer her, dejected and weary. Not a friend — not a bottle of Eau de Cologne. After a while, she sigh'd, " I think I might go on if I had some drink ;" When she spied a pool — for a prince's daughter By no means fit — but it still was water. It swam on the top with a green-like fat, And smelt as if — but she mustn't mind that. Indeed 'twas as foul as a glutton's dream, And as full to the brim, in every sense, Cai'e lies hid, and maid and boy Spread their hearts to the flowing joy. Bright with jokes and smiles, and drest In pleasure, as a fitting vest For the light slave of love's employ ! On they troop with immeasured tread, While merrily leaps the bell ahead ! All are glad, but one there is Gladdest far for the joy that's his ; AU are fair — but you may view 124 LIFE AND DEATH. One whom nature's pencil true Tints with every chosen hue. And he is blest, for he alone May call those long-sought charms his own, — The eye that speaks with modest art The utterings of a voiceless heart, The lip of blood, the brow of snow, The locks that curl to the breast below, The breast that heaves to the locks above. And drooping lashes overcharged with love ! Hark ! hark ! that bell ; Through the thick air its sullen echoes roll ; Joy, turning, shudders at the notes that swell Its melancholy toll. Lift, lift that sable pall. Remove yon gloomy lid ; Why have they laid thy beautiful, the all That made thy little world, there darkly hid Beyond the reach of thy accustom'd call 1 Ha ! dost thou shrink, yovmg lover 1 'tis the same For whom thy early heart was all on flame. And thou — dost thou not know her 1 luito thee Those features were a kingdom, and among LIFE AND DEATH. 125 Those flowing tresses, lovingly and long Thy fingers wanton'd, and those eyes — those eyes, Fed thy fond hours with light, which did eclipse The colour of Heaven's stars, — speak then — " Arise 1"' Ah ! thou didst love her gentle voice, then why Does silence hang upon those bloodless lips 1 — " Awake !" — thy touch shoidd shoot all thrillingly Tlu-oughout her frame : as the damp passionless stone On which thou tread' st, all coldly lies thy bride. Not by thy wonted side She slumbers — but how long alone ? Over the features thou didst deem so fair — A crawling guest — but who should call it there, Amid the tangles of those raven tresses, On cheeks which welcomed only thy caresses And yet, 'twill come to claim its right of place In the vanishing lines of that faery face ; Half sprung into life in its hideous birth From the mouldering mass of that mortal earth. The reptile waits its delicate prey, And it will have it — away, away ! And he is gone — the glorious sun gi'ew dim — His light witliin was fled — 126 LIFE AND DEATH. The tree's gay songster had no sound for him, Earth had no sight of festal flower or fruit, What else could nature be, but dark and mute To one whose life was dead ? 'Mid solitary woods he loved to dream, And tune his pensive mind To the dull flow of some unmeaning stream, Or spread his idle grief to the unlistening wind ! Time passed, and with it something of night, For he, throughout the lagging hours, had known To look at sorrow in the face, and grown Accustom'd to the sight. Upon his life there dwelt A holier peace, and he could calmly look With the soul's eye on things that may be felt Firmly as matter, by the few who rise O'er the cold exigence of earthly ties, Nor scorn the deeper search of Heaven's primeval book. Strano'C visions of a vaster mould Upon his gaze their dazzling length unroll'd. As to his task of love he brought The wisdom of an undistracted thought. LIFE AND DEATH. 127 A change thi'oughout him past ; The finer spirit was sublimed, and cast The dusty sense beneath it, such a change As if the covering of earth were cleft, And to the pent divinity had left A freer germination, and a more Unlocal being, which appear'd to range Effortless and unstirring throughout space, Existing in, yet all unbound by place. On things he look'd not from without, for they In their own ultimate essence found a way Into his natm-e, and he understood By what he felt, and felt that all was good. The deeper truth which inly we embrace In mystic union, doth not show its face To the world's learned gazer, who would pry Into its featirres with unseeing eye ; For, to be thus reveal'd, it must disown All sensual intervention, whence alone — E'en by the aid it flies — it could convey Its voiceless meanings into ears of clay. Time, sin, and happiness, the place of man In universal life, these who woidd scan 128 LIFE AND DEATH. With the thick gaze of reason '? — which if view'd (When sense succumbs, by final death subdued) Through a less nebulous \dsion, may um-oll Their partial mysteries on the naked soul. He felt, too, that within him palpably stin-'d A something that he knew not, and which heard Not with the ear, and saw not with the eye, And with the dying flesh which could not die. O'er the instinctive actions of our frame There rules a power unseen, to guide The breath in its quick-changing tide, Unurged by laggard reason, while the blood In circling channel pours its flood Into the throbbing fountain whence it came. The thought may sink o'erburden'd, and the will Die in the embrace of sleep, but wakeful still The ready nerves obey each viewless sign, Trembling -ftath restless life through every fine- drawn line. This life we live out of ourselves must be An efflux of the infinite Deity, The pulse of motion, which engenders heat lu matter's perishing modes, but cannot cease to beat ! LIFE AND DEATH. 129 He then, upon the wing Of loftier visiou rising, stood upon The chilly couiines of the world, where shone A lang-uid stream from the far solar spring. A floating halo swam around Stirr d hy the pulse of ether, with a sound Low, deep, like whisper'd thunder, while the air Surged in small waves, to herald as it were The coming of some mighty thing, and hriglst With the cold splendour of a wintry light, A sphere roll'd by majestic, calm and vast — Space seem'd engulph'd in shadow as it past. Around it lesser globes revolving play'd Duskily sparkling ; and its motion made Music not heard but felt, most like unto The sino-ino- of the heart when life and love are new ! A sense of power then seem'd to fill His being to its brim, Wliich left no room for what the heart or will Might urge of lesser things ; time sunk Overflown by duration, and for him The largest memories of earth had shrunk K 130 LIFE AND DEATH. Into a point — his soiil was strong, and felt Girt by infinity, as with a belt ! Once more he look'd and view'd The planet dwarf'd by distance, round the sun As with the earth its kindred course was run : With twin-born sufferance and power endued To yield attracted, or attracting di-aw. He deem'd that nothing was, which could be found Fill'd by itself, but each to all was bound By the strong passion of eternal Law, — Eternity to time, the whole to part, Grief unto joy, and heart to human heart ! In final thought he stood On the ecliptic, and the round earth spread Its fields before him, — the bhie air ahead, And the green-mantling grass look'd fresh and fail". Except where, blotting half the beauty there, Dark spots arose, like to time-harden'd blood Dropped by the hand of sin ; and then there came, As from God's throne, soft rays of living flame, And mix'd with those unholy stains, which grew Creepingly into light ; some sullen few LIFE AND DEATH. 131 Clung to their nature, and he tuni'd his gaze Unto the glorious fountain of those rays. As doubtingly to ask a larger scope For mercy — but excessive light flash'd o'er His blinded vision, and he saw no more, But sunk within himself, to tremble and to hope. He hoped, for he had often bent O'er gentle flowers of earth, which lent Exhilarating fragrance there To the soft kisses of the air. But with some few, whose very breath Seem'd wafted fi-om the lips of death, Their poison had a virtue still When used as foil for mortal ill ! Suddenly on his ear there fell The meiTy singing of a bridal bell, And he was dust again — cease, cease to weep, Hark ! fi-om yon Heav'n what strains of music sweep Mix'd with the flowing of melodious words Fresh from immortal lips and heav'nly chords, As if the souls of pm-ity and pleasure Had melted into one, to form the measure. 132 LIFE AND DEATH. " Though joy may blossom iu earthly bowers, It may not live till the fi'viit be fresh, For if free from thorns, like sensitive flowers It shrinks from the touch of a hand of flesh ! " The fairest fields of unperishing hue Are those by no mortal footstep trod, And the sweetest flowers are they which gi-ew From the thorny crowTi on the brow of God ! " It ceased, and as his head he raised Unto the place of that celestial sound, He saw a silvery cloud which hover'd round And then descended ; tremblingly he gazed As near and nearer still it came, Turning to human form — and through his frame Joy shot like pain, as by his quiv'ring side In unmistaken beauty stood his bride ! The same, yet changed, she beam'd upon Ms sight As if each feature had been carved from light, As if the soul from the long-dark'ning clay. Had sprung into the embodiment of day ! Strange feelings seized him then, while gazing on, Strange, for it seem'd his spirit had survived LIFE AND DEATH. 133 Eliminated flesh, and that he lived Another, yet himself, two souls in one — As if two hearts were burning in one breast, Born into double life, but more than doubly blest ! Morn broke, and some who travell'd early, found A quiet slumberer on the dewy ground. And wonder'd why the hps that tlrew no breath Smiled in their sleep — but 'twas the sleep of death. CALANUS. " Ingrato celeres obruit otio Ventos, ut caneret fera Nereus fata." — Horat. Of cypress and of myrtle-tree His burial-couch was made, Whence the dark prophet's piercing eye could see In long up-gazing lines the warhke host array'd. The pile was rich with gems of price And flowers of every hue, While brought from Asia's burning isles of spice From its tall sides there well'd an aromatic dew ; Though death in dreaded shape stood near, The sage, like king upon his throne reclined, Sat proudly, in the monarchy of mind. Upon his living bier. (1) Published in 1840. CALANUS. 135 Slowly and calm lie rose, and as he spoke The cymbal hush'd its brazen sound, And not a trumpet's voice around, Or clang of arms the' unbreathing silence broke. " Offspring of Jove ! whose giant power has spann'd Like the arch'd rainbow from far land to land — Ye Greeks ! whose souls those ruder thoughts employ, Which make of war a nature and a joy ; Attend, while yet of life remains In the warm current of these veins That soon shall shrivel 'neath that tongue of flame Licking my body o'er, When Calanus shall seek once more The fiery element from which he came ! *' My native land ! in a far country, low Sinking, to thee I txirn — For thee my fondest prayer shall flow, My deepest sigh shall burn, As sadly on my aged eyes In throng'd array thy many woes arise. Oh ! what avails thy kings their high descent — The children of the sun ! — 136 CALANUS. Their souls degenerate own no solar ray — The living flame is spent ! And unto rude unletter'd force a prey, They leave those fields where erst their fame was won ! Are not thy warriors brave, thy daughters fair — Boast not thy maids their dark-descending hair, The look that asks for love, the winning sigh, And the long lashes of the sleepy eye ? And for such kindling cliarms Do thy best heroes fear To hurl the iron thunder of their arms. The lightning of the spear ? In vain — in vain — for sins of olden days Thy glory mourns its setting rays, And an avenging Godhead pours Its lasting wrath upon thy fated shores ! " ' What deeds of rapine meet my aching eyes — What streams of blood shall flow to found new dynasties ! Thrones upon tlnoncs, the siav^ that gem thy crown, Great monarch, shall arise, and be cast down. Thy kings with waning power shall reign. Thy yoke be rent in two, (1) Successors of Alexander in the East. CALANUS. 137 Till not one glorious relic shall remain To mark the eagle course thy bird of victory flew I " See ! yon red crescent rising in the sky Of farthest Araby ; Forth from her sterile plains On the strong wings of bigot zeal, Her wan-iors rush o'er India's fair domains, And lost in soul or body, all The bravest of her children fall, The converts to their faith or victims of their steel I " ' Thibet I thy deserts form no saving bar ; Twelve times the di-eaded king has rush'd to war, Twelve times the wheels of battle's iron car Have crush'd my country's fields of gi'een. And roll'd o'er every sacred scene That old religion loves, Its golden floors and consecrated groves ; While the priests' life-blood stains The marble threshold of the plunder'd fanes [ (1) Mahmoodof Ghuzni. 138 CALANUS. " Hark ! to the horse-tread, thick and fast, Like a spirit of ill, the Tartar pass'd — Scarce an arm rose there For defence or prayer, Ere he wither'd the land like a bhghting blast ! Vainly the mountains stretch their belts of rock, In vain their snows are deep. The sqiiadrons thunder down the steep, And ancient empires totter to the shock ! " Kingdoms arise and fall, And different nations hold the sway. But thou, my country, art the slave of all. Thy night shall ne'er be day ! And is it thus the Heav'ns have will'd thy doom 1 Thy soil is rich, with varied glow Skies shine above, and flowers below, And must thy fate maintain its changeless gloom 1 "One pleasing thrill my bosom warms, — Vanquish'd by thee in a more glorious strife. The fierce invader drops his blood-stain'd arms, And feels a new-born joy, and leai'ns the arts of life ! CALAKUS. 139 A while — a little while, O'er thee shall peace and science smile, Thy faith resume its right — thy towns their state, Beneath a foreign king, for once well-styled the Great ! ' " 'Tis o'er — thy day of pride hath past, That beam of glory was thy last — The gentle stream of peace hath ceased to flow, Another country yields another foe ! War, horrid war, again Rolls its destroying flood O'er the corn-smiling plain. And rushing on, it saps thy lofty walls, Imperial city ! in whose glittering halls The Persian lion '^ dyes his fangs in blood. " And other tribes, whose purer creed Forbids its sons to plunder and to slay, Throng to that feast of spoil, and ceaseless prey On thee, my country, thee still doom'd to bleed. By paths untrod before, From the far west, their daring leader came,' (1) Akbar. (2) Nadir Shah. (3) Vasco di Gama. 140 CAT.AXUS. But untried dangers cast no dimness o'er His soul's unwavering flame — Though from their hidden caves The wild wings sprung, and uphurl'd the waves, The thunder roll'd with deeper sound, More fiercely flash'd the lightning round, As from the troubled air the tempest king Hung black upon their course with his o'ershadowing wing ! " But see ! the land's oft-parted realms obey Another nation's milder swjiy. Mercy and feith the arms they wield, ^ Subduing but to save, The rulers of each battle-field, The sultans of the wave ! These men of mightier mental mould, Shall hold the elements controU'd, Shall bid the beams of science pour Their wondrous hght from shore to shore. And matter, beautifully complex, start Into strange Hfe beneath the magic touch of art ! (1) Moorad Ali, late Ameer of Scinde, remarked in my hearing, that the English had conquered Hindostan, not by their swords, but by their " Sook- hun-rastee," (true-speaking.) CALAXUS. 141 " Monarcli of Macedou ! behold, What changes follow ou the flight of time — Waud'rers shall seek the land By the deserted path thy genius plaun'd, And Commerce shall resume the course she track'd of old. " But ah ! mine eyes grow dim — And faint before their orbs the future visions swim ! My native land, alas ! O'er thee the' immutable, what change shall pass ; Where Indus its dark waters pours ' Along thy holiest realms, thy proudest shores, Forth from the bosom of thy race I see men rise, whose souls shall spring On innovation's daring wing, To pluck the Brahmin from his pride of place. To bid the past renounce its power, And quit, for tenets of an hour, The heav'n-boru rites, that on the sacred page Have lield their ancient sway through many a mystic age. (1) The founders of the Sikhs. Calanus was met by Alexander at Taxila, jnd burnt himself in Persia. 142 CALANUS. " I can no more — but still, my country, still I give thee all I can, my dying lays — A tear of pity, for thine ill — A hope for brighter days ! Queen of the waters ! in thy strength be just ; The land is thine, be thine the praise, More bright than warlike spoils, to raise The vanquish'd ffom the dust ! " He said, when at a sign the pile was fired, And on his bier of flame, the prophet-sage expired ! ALEXANDER.' ^Afdpwi/ yup em^avihv TTuca yT} rct^ov. -^ThuCYD. 11. 4a. Silent I stood upon the banks Of that far-famed Indian stream, Where Macedonia's conquering ranks Half realized their leader's dream, That his unwearied flag shoiild fly O'er every realm beneath the sky. II. Alone, and in deep thought I stood, Musing upon the days of old, And as beneath that ancient flood Its dark and rapid waters roU'd, Before my mental vision shone The scenes of twice ten centuries gone. (1) Published in 1840, with some differences. 144 ALEXANDER. III. 1 hear the iron din of arms Arise in one discordant peal ; The music of the fight, whose charms Ring with fierce joy on hearts of steel, When human blood is pour d like wine. Before the god of battle's shrine ! IV. Where bright with many a flashing blade, (As 'mid thick clouds the lightnings glarC;) The war-storm casts its deepest shade, The warrior-king of Greece is there. With glance that calmly scans the whole ^The leader's eye, the hero's soul ! The strife is o'er, the battle's won, Not that the dusky legions quail'd, But strove they not with Ammon's son, And fought with one who never fail'd 1 And as it e'er had done before, His flag in victory waves once more ! ALEXANDER. 145 VI. 'Tis past, that bright and sturing dream, Xo more I view the armed ranks ; All darkly rolls that erst red stream, And I alone upon its banks, That, crumbling round me, splash below, To break the silent current's flow. VII. Tis past, that high-wi-ought vision frail ; And thus too shall the conqueror s name Fade into subject for a tale,^