SIR GEOFFREY AfiD OTHER POEMS. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES P O E M S c. POEM S L / U SIR GEOFFREY, OTHER POEMS. BY HENRY GRAZE BROOK, AUTHOR OF " POEMS, SACRED AND MISCELLANEOUS." LONDON: BELL AND DALDY, FLEET STREET. LIVERPOOL: EDWARD HOWELL, CHURCH STREET. 1857. Pft Hnz.% Imtoris. &,f mad ambition Bhould inflate Ami dash it on the rocks of Fate ? [8 it so base, so vile ;i thing, So false to Nature's whispering, As fitting only to be sold To worthless rank or titled gold ? [s it bo slavish and forlorn, So nerveless, passiouless, and worn. As meekly at a sire's command To follow the unwilling band P And if not so, what grievous sin To still the throbbing voice within, And foully and profanely dare To foster a Satanic snare, And weave anmnd that jewelled shrine The meshes of a fell design ! — A woman's heart ! That tender flower Will droop and wither in an hour If ruthless man tear off a shoot, Or tamper with its fibred root ; Bui if he tend it with tbe care All worthy of a thing so fair, And o'er its petals drop tbe dew Of sympathy sincere and true, SIK GEOFFREY. And round about it shed the light Of fond affection, pure and bright, Its pulse, enlivened from above, Will vibrate to the call of love ! * Young Edwin, to a master mind, Yet added soul, a taste refined, A manly form, a noble face, Where shone intelligence and grace. Surpassing tenderness of thought Was in his being finely wrought, And showed its blessed presence there By traits of feeling rich and rare. His smile was fresh as early dew ; His heart was open, warm, and true. * * * * :.-. He knew the beauteous Amabel, And need we say he loved her well ? In childhood's bright and sunny hours He culled the best, the loveliest flowers, Around her tiny brow to twine, Enlaced with scented eglantine ; SIB GEO] I BEY. And then she seemed a little queen l pon her throne of mossy green ; And as she waved her lily hand, And. with a look of mock command, Brought down her playmate to her feet, I ']>i -ii hade him rise in accent sweet, The joyous blood suffused his cheek, And. all-entranced, he could not speak : Thus Love first tried to play its pari. And seize an unsuspecting heart. And yet again, as time rolled on, And youth's first budding days were gone, When that serene and learned man. The Curate, on his task began Of opening her delightful mind, — A vein of gold by God refined, — And there implanting ancient lore, ( >r teaching new-born thought to soar, Their lives would still together run, For Edwin was the Curate's son. Their stream of life all peacefully. In rippling, trickling ecstasy. Flowed on, by many a fragrant grove \nd sun-slant such as angels love. S1K GEOFFREY. 'Mid bright parterres meandering. Or through blest meadows wandering, Imbibing sweets from every rose, And lulling nature to repose ; For even sbe smiles tranquilly When blooming innocence goes by ! Sweet Innocence ! Thine angel face, Thy simple, unaffected grace, Thy heavenly brow, that never knew The tinge of shame or passion's hue, Thy trustful look, unstained by sin, That tells of happy thought within, Thy heart's glad music — laughter gay — How blest, how beautiful are they ! How oft will thy protecting charm Unblushing, ruthless guilt disarm, And send its villanies to hide, — By fascination's spell defied ? How oft, where soothing light divine In widening circles loves to shine Around thine altar, bending low, Have hardened sinners learnt to know The luxury of bitter tears — Repentant sobs for mispent years ? BIB 01 "1 i BET. Sweel Bpirit, with angelic brow llnw blest, how beautiful art thou ! Sir Geoffrey with a heart of stone, And living to himself alone Had still within that deadened heart < >ne spark of lif<\ one human part — A shining gem, of matchless worth. Encrusted with the baser earth. He never saw a babe asleep, But, softened, he could almost weep ; For Memory would paint the time When his young wife, in beauty's prime, Was carried to a place of rest, Her infant sleeping on her breast. "Whene'er the prattle of a child I ell on his ear, the cold man smiled ; For children took him by surprise, Ami lured him from his dark disguise. They never wounded, thwarted never. To his command submissive ever. His simplest wish, his slightest word Co them was law; and if he erred In thought or deed, they could not tell, But still imagined all was well. SIR GEOFFREY. This bitter feeling to his kind And shrinking littleness of mind Were but the consequence of pride. To stubborn selfishness allied, That could not opposition brook In act, intent, or even look. In by-gone days of college life, And stirring scenes of classic strife, The Curate was his early friend. And oft his intellect would lend To gird him for the fight anew, And, all-triumphant, bear him through. Sir Geoffrey's friendship, wintry cold, Was yet sincere ; his friend of old The magic sceptre wielded still, To influence his sullen will. Thus talent owns a wide control ; It ever rules the lesser soul, And, joined to wisdom from above, Commands esteem, respect, and love. * * * * When, young in hope and rich in joy, The Curate clasped his lovely boy, LO SIR GEOl ! Kl Y. And ventured on the fond request, Long cherished in his simple hreast, To name as sponsor to his child This autocrat ; and when it smiled And chuckled to the man of pride. The modest wish was not denied. Time passed : the little Edwin grew A sprightly youth : warm blood and true Leapt joyously in every vein, And lent his cheek its ruddy stain. Oft was the pretty boy carest, And ever deemed a welcome guest In cold Sir Geoffrey's hall : He earned himself a narrow fame For joyous frolic, and became The plaything of them all. For even he, the Baronet, Would look upon the laughing pet, And stroke his glossy curls, • >r deign to place him on his knee, Although no lordly pedigree Could link his name with earls. SIR GEOFFREY. 11 His merry moments, strange to say, Could chase the dark man's frown away, And deck him with a smile, That, like the vapour o'er a tomb, Or as a sunbeam in the gloom, Shone for a little while ; And when with Amabel at play, The bright but evanescent ray Would melt into a tear, For once, so sweet, so dear a son Was all bis own — that treasured one Ran out his race ere well begun To share a mother's bier ! When manhood dawned, and Fancy's eye, Untrained, untutored, could descry In Edwin's frame, in Edwin's mind, A beauty perfect of its kind — Oh ! was it strange that Amabel Should feel a love she dared not tell ? And was it wonderful that he Should dream of none so fair as she ? Oh ! was it natural, as they Went forth one beauteous summer day — 12 BIB OEOFFBEY. \ silver day in smiling .lime, When all creation beat in tunc Arid birds were singing in the trees, And fragrance floated on the breeze — That each should find a magic power Steal o'er the heart at such an hour, And, owning that serene control. Should merge in unity of soul ? Oh ! wus it arrogant and vain. As burning thought crept o'er the brain, That Edwin, almost unawares, Should rend tbe veil wrapt round his cares Hope, doubt, despair, pangs unconfessed, A troubled soul, a sad unrest ? That little rent, expanding wide, Unloosed the swelling pent-up tide, W'bose heaving and impassioned flow Bore onward love, and joy, and woe, From truthful lips no longer sealed. Till all his being lay revealed. " Dear Amabel ! Was it to chide Thou saidst '0, spare me!' or to hide That virgin blush ? To calm the blest And .joyous tumult in thy breast ?" Eventful pause ! While Kdwin's blood Coursed through his veins, a raging ilood. SIR GEOFFREY. 13 " Speak, dear one, speak ; 't is life or death — Existence hangs upon thy breath ! — Ay, give to him that trembling hand ; 'T is in safe keeping. Self-command Hath left thee, sweet one, for awhile, But bless, ! bless him with a smile." Two fleecy clouds swept o'er the sky. Like two young spirits soaring high. As Edwin lent his arm To guide the gentle Amabel, Entranced by a wondrous spell — A blissful, happy charm ; For he had vowed, and she had heard And feasted on each honeyed word That fluttered in her ear, To love, to cherish, aud to tend His blushing rose, till at life's end It bloomed in yonder sphere. The violets beneath their feet Sprang up with ecstasy to meet Their light elastic tread ; 1 I SIR GEOFFKI I. They seemed to know instinctively That earnest truth and constancy Passed o'er their grassy bed. The joyous lark in heaven's blue Paused for a moment to renew His most alluring song, And hung aloft on poised wing. And all-enraptured seemed to sing As Beauty moved along. The streamlet rippling through the dell. That alway had a tale to tell In music to the air, Sang softly its eternal strain, With ever deepening refrain, To soothe that loving pair. Sir Geoffrey paced his marble hall. And. like a dread funereal pall, His shadow glided o'er the wall. 6* Mis haughty brow deep furrows lined, His stolid eye, cold and unkind, Blocked up the entrance to his mind. SIR GEOFFREY. 15 His tightened lip, his bloodless cheek, Of bitter thought appeared to speak, But aught of good t were vain to seek. The sullen mood was on him then, And in the mortal lived again The scorning of his fellow-men. — Young Edwin, bounding, hoping, dreaming, A maniac with excitement seeming, And gladness from his bright eye beaming, Burst in upon the dark man's musing, And spake of her, his heart's own choosing, And love that met with no refusing. He told what Nature's truth had taught her. And how through life his soul had sought her, Then — asked the proud man for his daughter ! The demon Pride, man's semblance wearing, And, like a maddened tiger glaring, Eeplied, while Love crouched down despairing : " Boy, braggart, beggar ! dost thou dare To sue for Amabel the fair ? Or dost thou hope to be mine heir ? Hi SIR GEO] 1 ft! Y " And didst thou think with lover's whine To link thy pedigree to mine, And sully my ancestral line ? " Reptile, begone ! Worms cannot soar. In low-bred ears such love sighs pour. But cross my threshold nevermore !" " Sir Geoffrey, cease those words of ill ! J dare not brave a father's will. But I can love the dear one still. \nd I will trust her plighted faith, — Will bless her with my latest breath. Ay, and will love her after death ! lint ham, weak mortal, ere I go. That in these throbbing reins doth llm. \ stream where kingly honours glow." The wretched Edwin turned away, His hroken spirit gasping lay, His tears shut out the light of day. »hii moment passed with Amabel -Millioed their misery to tell, And breathe an agonised farewell. SIR GEOFFREY. 17 '• God saw our wooing : mine thou art ! He will be with us, though we part, Who ne'er forsook the true of heart." END OF CANTO FIEST. [> SIR Gl-:<> I 1 RET. CANTO SE( OND. The smiling monarch of the day, Whom happy myriads obey, Looked fondly in his proud career On Nature's children, and each tear Left by the grief of chastened night He kissed away in pure delight. But there were tears he could not dn , And there was grief that would not fly, For stricken Amabel was there, The bright, the beautiful, the fair ; Changed, changed alas! but lovely still. The victim of a tyrant's will. Her fathers pride she did not share. And, feeling thus, 't was hard t" bear; She thought him cruel and unkind, But duty found her meek, resigned ; SIR GEOFFREY. 19 Yet bitter pangs, though unexpressed, Implanted in her guileless breast Another's woe, for well she knew Her faithful Edwin suffered too. Then whispered Hope, " they could but die, And in the shining realms on high Their twin-born spirits re-unite, And ever bask in endless light ! ' She longed to tell her Edwin this. And point his thoughts to future bliss, Ere she herself should pass away, — For Death was waiting for his prey ; He saw her youthful heart was breaking, Life's ebbing stream its fount forsaking. Sir Geoffrey felt his daughter's mind Was ill at ease, and as she pined And gently faded hour by hour, And withered like a frost-nipped flower, A kind of sorrow hovered nigh. But failed to move his sympathy. Her girlish fancy for awhile Might pale her cheek and dim her smile ; But time, beneficent, must heal The deepest wound a child can feel. 80 sib geoffk; \. I > ! little, little did he know Th' unfethomed depth of woman's woe ; i >r, poised all other aims above, Th' eternal throb of woman's love ; Softly sinking, force prevailing, Ever trusting, never failing — Her heart to him was blank indeed, A sacred book he could not read. Time slipped away ; but winter snows Disturbed not sorrow's deep repose, And Amabel saw spring appear, To mock the heart it could not cheer. Her torch of life was burning low, And she rejoiced to find it so, For Death she counted as a friend Who brought earth-troubles to an end. And, softly pillowed on his breast. She hoped ere long to be at rest. Distracted Edwin, where was he ? How bore his spirit, buoyant, free, This trial to his constancy ? Worn and dejected, see him there ;— That mournful, melancholy air, Is now the garb he 's used to wear. SIR GEOFFREY. Those massive folios round the room Have been a solace in his gloom, And somewhat soothed his bitter doom. For, when o'ercome with mental sadness, And memories of former gladness, He plunged in them with fevered madness. Those manuscripts before him placed Have oft in their creation chaste His own identitv effaced. For Edwin was a favoured poet : In youth his fervour seemed to show it, But now the world began to know it. That miniature — companion meet — Lay ever near, his eye to greet With look unutterably sweet ; For she, the idol of his soul, Depicted there, was still the goal That held his being in control. She smiled upon him as he sought In frenzied fancy aptly wrought To clothe sublimity of thought. ••>! •-'-' SIU GEOF] KEY. IliT liquid eyi b appeared to weep A- rich reality would sweep Oei Love's complaining, long and deep. Her symbolled presence urged him on, And found the student pale and wan A Alining rock to build upon. Ami rear up fame that cannot die. \ud taught his aspiration high To gild with poesy each sigh. — Though deeply sad, he murmured not, Nor idly cursed his cruel lot, Nor manly fortitude forgot ; But, seeking out the mossy stone Where she had vowed to be his own, He sat down there, and wept alone. And his were tears of manly grief, A hitter flood, spasmodic, brief, That brought his troubled soul relief. And then magnanimous he stood, Forgiving him whose selfish mood Had severed thus the pure and good. SIR GEOFFREY. 23 A mind at peace ! Thrice happy they Whose joyous moments, passed away, Illumine with their fading light The glorious Present's viewless flight, And brighten with translucent ray The unknown Future's dawning day ! But who can minister to those Whose dark, whose overwhelming woes A midnight gloom around them cast, And drown the Present in the Past ? Dear placid lake, whose wondrous hue — Deep-toned as Heaven's deepest blue, Serene, bright, beautiful, intense — Leads captive the bewildered sense. Geneva ! can thy loveliness A bruised, a broken spirit bless ? Or thy cerulean expanse Bring back the mind from sorrow's trance ?- On yonder rock which leaves the land, See — sadly, picturesquely stand •-' I SIB GEO] i EU J A figure bent with early care, \ fragile form, divinely fair. She follows with a wistful gaze Those fitful, ever-sparkling rays That kiss thy ripples, ere they fly Again unto their native sky. rheir brilliant beauty mocks her woe — And 't is her mood to have it so — For in her heart there bleeds a wound Deep as thy waters — dark, profound ' But in her breast there nobly speak s A purpose high as yonder peaks Which pierce the rolling clouds of time, And rise in majesty sublime ; And pure as their surrounding snow Are those unceasing thoughts that flow In anguish through her shivering frame, And tell of wrongs she will not name. T is Amabel ! and seated near Her father waits : a new-born tear Now glistens in that stolid eye. And almost ripens to a sigh. His sullen, torpid heart at last Was deeply moved; and as the past Across his troubled fancy flew In sad and sorrowful review, SIR GEOFFREY. 25 He judged himself alone to blame, But hid his grief for very shame. Her broken health, her failing powers, Had haunted long his midnight hours ; He saw her fading day by day, He watched her withering away ; The cherished hope he knew was vain To greet her happy smile again. In deep distress, his waking mind He searched, a soothing balm to find. He pondered o'er those nightly schemes. The emanation of his dreams, But still forgot the main disease, And shunned the only path to peace. He thought a varied change of scene — The mountain gorge, the lake serene — Might charm the eye as heretofore, And gleams of happiness restore. He led her by the lovely Rhine, 'Mid tracings of a hand divine, To that famed stronghold of the free, Where heroes bled for liberty. The sense of justice unavailing, No meek reproach, no fretful wailing 26 Silt GEO] I RBY. aped that angel, uncomplaining, Whose life in bitterness was waning. A listless languor bung around her, And oftentimes her father found her • >n bended knee in secret praying, But knew not what her lips were saying. And yet on him, the cruehhearted, On him, who Love and Truth had parted, Was she invoking every blessing, In language of the soul's expressing; And when no more among the living Her place was found, those wrongs forgiving. She prayed that Edwin, still forbearing, Alight feel for him, crushed and despairing. The rugged mountain failed to wake Her former joy ; the sunny lake Showed all its blandishments in vain, Her lost affection to regain ; The foaming cataract no more Could charm, with its incessant roar ; The silver hills, the Mer de Glace, The glory-consecrated Pass, — ill spoke to her of rayless gloom, Enshrouding still an open tomb. SIR GEOFFREY. 27 Sir Geoffrey owned the bracing air Healed not the wound that rankled there. And, fretting o'er this loss of time, Resolved to seek a warmer clime. Still fleeing ceaseless sorrow's knell, Thev bade dear Switzerland farewell, And passed along enchanted ground, Where Nature smiled in all around, And Maggiore's peaceful breast Seemed sleeping on in endless rest. On, onward still, in anxious haste, Like conscience by a phantom chased, They traversed that refreshing scene, 'Mid sunny slopes of radiant green, And trees surcharged with luscious fruit — Unhappy, spiritless, and mute — Till marble-pinnacled Milan Gave out the hum of busy man. On, onward still, — their languid gaze Withheld Placenza's meed of praise, And Parma's share of small renown ; But Ariosto's native town ! : - : ! could not that the mind inspire, And fill the veins with liquid fire ? * Reggio. 28 SIR GEO] 1 KM. Alas ! the mind refused control. For sad depression ruled the soul ! Once grand Modena, fallen low, Infused a momentary glow ; There for awhile they breathed anew, With Italy's bold chain in view. Their noble summits reared on high To poise aloft the distant sky. Too fleetly — ere the close of day — This healthful feeling died away, And thought, now misanthropic grown. Relapsed into its former tone. — Bologna ! hath thy proud estate, E'en yet with ancient glory great, In learning's labyrinth enchained The weary, worn, and travel-stained; Or hath thy scientific ail Soothed and entranced that angel fair ? No ! Glories past may beam again, And science live for learned men ; But hearts cngulphed by trouble's wave See comfort only in the grave ! On, onward still, — through Eden's bowers, And gorgeous groups of figured flowers, SIR GEOFFEEi". 29 Now hidden from the glare of day. Where massive chestnuts lined the way. Their boughs gigantic far outspread, Their arms embracing overhead, And checquered now in sunbeams bright. That streaked the path with bars of light. Anon fair Nature seemed to change — With aspect barren, wild, and strange, She scowled upon them — but at last The swelling Apennines were passed, And then how warmly did she glow, What lavish smiles did she bestow ! She wafted fragrance on the breeze, She lent luxuriance to the trees, She richly decked the teeming earth, And revelled in her second birth, The trellised vines on either hand. Adorning that prolific land, Held up to view their jewels sweet, Inviting all to pluck and eat ; And in the valley far below, Where Arno's peaceful waters flow, Yet half concealed from eager eyes, There lay "The Poet's Paradise." 30 SIB QEO] i l. Dejected — deeply, direly sad — When all around the world was glad, They entered that fair city's gate In search of peace — too late, too late ! Worn out in body, crushed in mind, I Jest came not with the southern wind, And gentle peace was hard to find. Enduring but from day to daj , Sweet Amabel all prostrate lay. Her spirit winged to flee away. Sir Geoffrey knelt beside the bed. \nd, bending his once sti/l>!><>ni head. He wept as though his child were dead. 'L'he mild physician standing by Exclaimed, through his expressive eye, " T is sad for one so young to die !" He keenly marked the fleeting breath. He knew the sword had left its sheath. He saw the stern approach of death ! He drew the penitent aside, I 'injuring him by life's low tide J I And as they paused their joy to tell, The happy wife she knew full well Was trusting, truthful Amabel ! END OF CANTO SECOND. :'»t SIB <■! "i i Rl ?. CANTO THIRD Fair Italy ! thy gentle guest, I 'ale. pensive, wan, yet doubly blest Though half-regretful, leaves that shore Where Death stepped backward, and once more Her trembling lips resumed the smile That Edwin's sadness should beguile. The joyous Zephyr fanned her cheek In playful fondness ; and. to seek Her kind regard, the sparkling Sea Showed all his calm sublimity. Marseilles ! Antiquity may glow In all thy legends, and the How Of ancient eloquence prolong Fair Woman's praise in witching song ; Bui Truth — arraigned, yet Saintly sure, Serenely sad, yet proudly pure — SIR GEOFFREY. 35 In fairer form, in gentler guise, Hath never swelled thy harmonies ! Then welcome her who seeks thy shore. And bid her sorrow nevermore. And thou, autumnal, sunny France ! Receive her kindly, with a glance Of welcome through thy fading flowers, But bid her haste to happier bowers. And thou, dear England ! take thy child, And love her ahvay : feebly mild Is that bruised nature ; but the soul, Ethereal, owns not man's control ! Look o'er thy cliffs to see her come. And hail the bark that bears her home. T was bleak November, and the sun, His dull and dismal course to run, Had left a couch of lustrous gold, While other realms in darkness rolled ; But his bright arch 't were vain to trace. For mist and vapour hid his face. 86 SIR GEOFFEET. The world without looked cross and chill, Dead Nature lay profoundly still, A mighty chrysalis; — hut all Within Sir (leoffrey's stately hall Was gay and cheerful ; for the fair. The beauteous Amabel was there ! Fond expectation Hushed her cheek, And veiled the pallor that could speak Of Death's arm bared love-ties to sever, Of hitter moments iled for ever. Sir Geoffrey, more than woman mild. Viewed tenderly his blushing child, And drew her fondly to his heart Ere he performed a noble part. He sallied forth, he raised his head, Light and elastic was his tread, A mighty purpose stirred his frame, — And Restitution was its name ! He traced out Edwin, and he found, With leaves of labour strewn around. The pensive student, as a train 1 >f deep-wrought feeding crossed his brain. Absorbing, sad, creative thought Held all his powers : but while he sought SIR GEOFFREY. 37 In form artistic to portray Some hopeful vision passed away, One word escaped the theme to tell — That truant word was "Amabel !" I saw a maiden by the stream, By the stream, Whose wondrous beauty shone supreme : Was it a vision, or a dream, Or a dream ? She re-arranged her golden hair, Her golden hair, And seemed to me a spirit fair, With tresses waving in the air, In the air. The crystal ruirror down below, Down below, In each succeeding ebb and flow Gave back the heaving breast of snow, The breast of snow. Her bright eye shot a silver beam, A silver beam, That flickered with a meteor gleam, And kissed the ripple on the stream, On the stream. sir '.i "i i i:i:v. i me with magic light, With magic tight, ["hat fired my brain, and mocked my Bight, Mm touched mj soul with pure delight, With pure delight. \ 1 1 ■ 1 then T heard the Syren sing, l he Syren sing : "Oh thou, my heart's imagining! I v.- Bought thee long on seraph wii On seraph wing. "Beloved one! take me in thy boat, In thy boat, \ii.l. from tlii-, bitter world remote, Fel Bide by side, O let us float, let us float ! \ixl far away from human strife, 1 pom human strife, As thine own faithful, loving wife, I 11 Bteer thee down the stream of lit. . The stream of life, •• Until we reach yon distant shore, Ion distant shore, Lnd through blest realms for ever soar. When all of earth shall be no more, Shall be no mi>> SIR GEOFFREY. 39 In self- accusing, softened mood, Profoundly moved, the old man stood! The shrunken form, the haggard eye, The half- suppressed, unbidden sigh, The solemn tone of early years — All told of grief too deep for tears. Stern Reason thundered, "Whence the cause? Who dares to thwart just Nature's laws ?" And burning Conscience answered, " Thou ! I read conviction on thy brow ! Thy blighting, pestilential breath Hath withered youth, and tempted Death To steal his victims ere the Spring Attained to Summer's blossoming." — A mournful and a bitter groan Warned Edwin he was not alone. He started wildly to his feet, Some new-bora trouble doomed to meet, But reeled again in blank despair As his tormentor faced him there. " Still, still vindictive, O, my foe ! And art thou come to mock my woe ? Begone ! Thy heartless censure cease, And let the wretched die in peace." " Talk not as if thy race were run, Edwin, my true, my noble son ! 1" SIB QEOPJ BEY. Much is there luring yet to live, Much to forget, much to forgive. Forget an old man's erring pride, Thy wrongs, forgiving, cast aside, And once more, Edwin, come and see Where love, joy, honour wait for thee." \\ lien warring clouds together roll. And, owning their usurped control. Primeval darkness reigns at noon, — When Nature, from her death-like swoon. Leaps into life, kissed hy the ray Of yonder smiling orb of day, — Her face shows less serenely bright Than Edwin's countenance of light. '6 The proffered hand between his own He pressed, and, in a smothered tone, Said, " Grieve not for the past. Or mar the present with alloy: This moment is so full of joy, Oh ! can it — can it last '.'" Then gracious words, long spirit-crushed. In eloquent disorder gushed Fresh from that beating heart, SIK GEOFFBEY. 41 And wrapt the penitent in shame ; He courted rather righteous blame For his, the guilty part ! But youth is generous, and when Pride" came to worship once again At fond affection's shrine, Young Edwin's miseries took wing, His gentle spirit murmuring — "Perchance the sin was mine !" And uow behold them arm in arm, Linked close by friendship's happy charm, The old man and the young ; Sweet was their converse by the way, And eager was the ready play Of each inquiring tongue. — The blissful, joyous Amabel Knew strange alarm she could not quell — Her leaping pulse beat high — The rose and lily scored her cheek With fevered glow and pallid streak, As hurried steps drew nigh. Her darkened eyes shut out the day, Her feeble limbs were giving way, When to the rescue came A faithful knight, with noble crest, Who clasped her to his manly breast, And madly breathed her name. I'.' JIB QEOFFBST. Sir Geoffrey felt as angels feel \\ ben watching o'er a mortal's weal — A joy of heavenly tone — And, tenderly considerate, Be left the lovers to their fate. Those happy ones, alone ! \nd, oh ! the rapture who can tell That hung around them like a spell ? The Poet's hoastful power From sheer incompetence must fail ; Then let us meekly draw the veil O'er that eventful hour. * Three buoyant spirits, bright and free. Drank in with purest ecstasy November's fitful, wailing breeze, That howled among the leafless trees, And scattered far, all rudely torn In Bhreds, the misty cloak of morn. I In ta-,teful garden pulseless lay In Winter's grasp, a stiffened prey; The frost-bound paths prolonged the sound Of falling footsteps — dull, profound ; S1K GEOFFREY. 43 The flattened beds looked dark and drear, The blackened shrubs curled up with fear, The rose's bloom slept unrevealed, The fouutains frolicsome were sealed ; — But all seemed beautiful and fair To those light hearts that wandered there. A glorious picture, softly grand, Traced out by an Almighty hand, And lighted up with dancing rays — The golden smiles of sunny days — Now filled the soul with love intense, And held in rapture every sense. To Edwin and his promised wife There lay unrolled the map of life. Their mental vision scanned the scene, Nor shuddered as some deep ravine Of future sorrow met the view ; For, just beyond, in radiant hue, The hill of Hope would nobly rise, And rear its summit to the skies ; And lovely vales, and fragrant bowers, And silver streams encased in flowers, And peaceful meadows swathed in light, Led onward still their hungry sight, Till, o'er the far perspective lay The glory of departing day, II BTB GEOFFBET. \nd through the soft effulgence slioue The jewelled gate — th' eternal throne! Sir (ic'uil'ivy wept! and weary woe Turned pale at that delicious flow ; His sous were nameless ecstasies, His tears the overflow of hliss. A grateful essence, soul-pervading, Arose as bitterness was fading ; For in his bosom, gasping, sighing, Old Pride, the monster, lay a-dying. A thankful spirit mo^ed within him That Grief, the angel, came to win him, And waited till his deaf ear heard her, And stayed his hand from double murder " Days, months, and years, unwearily, Sped swiftly, softly, cheerily — But for a time how drearily ! The wordless pang, — ah! who can tell That, as a blight in Summer, fell On Edwin and his Amabel ? SIR GEOFFREY. 45 Their first-born, whose angelic smile, Their darling, whose endearing wile Their very souls could all beguile, Was pricked by Death through Beauty's charms, While nestled in her mother's arms, Secure from infantine alarms. Oh ! then was Pleasure's dark eclipse. Hope, trembling, withered on their lips ; But Comfort blooms where Sorrow dips. Strong was their trust in God's decree ; They wept, they mourned, yet deemed that she Was ripe for immortality. Time seared the wound, and dulled Distress Grew faint, as soft-winged Happiness Their chastened spirits deigned to bless. He gave, He took, He gave again ! Fled were the drops of Sorrow's rain, For giant Pleasure swallowed Pain. And now upon the mother's knee Two dimpled, laughing cherubs see, Kissed dumb by Love's intensity. "' BIB GEO] B"R] .'■ . And mark the bliss that seems to rise Ami glitter in those parents' eyi 3, Like silver beams in southern skit Now view again that lovely pair — A brother and ;i sister fair. With flowing cataracts of hair. Young Edwin shows his mothers grace, And Amabel her father's face, As fondling arms they interlace. They wander in a garden old, By dancing fountains fresh and cold, And mossy nooks enshrined in gold. One might imagine erring Time Had backward swept, with step sublime, Full twenty years of grief and crime ; For fountain nymph and garden sprite Had witnessed then, and blessed the sight, Two little forms with beauty bright. Then, as their tender arms entwined, An inborn unity of mind Those kindly spirits laughed to find. SIR GEOFFREY. 47 And once again the bygone scene Starts into life 'mid Natures green, As though no lapse had ever been. Three wandering seraphs from above, Each meek and gentle as a dove — Contentment, Harmony, and Love — A spot espied, serenely fair, While circling in the scented air, And, moved with rapture, settled there. And from that haven nevermore Do those enthralled ones wish to soar. Or seek for rest as heretofore ; For all around them seems to tell Their earthly home is chosen well — Where heavenly favour loves to dwell. One long, last look before we part — Till Thought, with photographic art, Shall leave its impress on the heart. 18 SIR GEOFFKI V < hi Edwin's brow ilic wreath of Fame Now rests ; but, with an honoured name, His simple soul is still the same. The matchless Amabel is near ; Their children, beautiful and dear. Call to their eyes a joyous tear. The changed Sir Geoffrey, calm, benign, Breathes low — "I thank thee, Lord divine, For mercy shown to me and mine!" THE END OF SIR GEOFFREY. JMctthws at Jbtml fftount. And art thou goue ? Methought that placid eye Looked in upon my soul, while ecstasy, All passive, pensive, lay : this trembling frame Unnerved, unmanned, at thine unuttered name.' — Fair Fancy mocked me, and my trust she won ; 'T was but the lake that glittered in the sun. And art thou gone ? There fell upon mine ear That calm, still voice, and I rejoiced to hear. It seemed with swelling cadence to prolong A low, sweet, tremulous, unearthly song. — 'T was but the sighing of a Summer breeze, Disconsolate, among those hallowed trees. But art thou gone ? That comely form of clay, Full ripe in blameless years, hath passed away. 5 •"il 1 REFLECTIONS AT RTDAL MOUNT. On yonder Blab two modest words declare. In simple majesty, thuu liest tbere ; But all the workings of a master-mind And nature-loving soul thou leav'st behind, And as a great preceptor wilt thou teach Men yet unborn that a mysterious speech Tells of a God in every flower that blows, Of matchless harmony aud blest repose. To stand where thou hast btuod, to gaze around Where thou hast gazed, and feel 't is holy ground . To rest absorbed, to own the Poet's art Hath power to raise aud purify the heart, — Departed Wordsworth, spirit noble, free, This is the homage I would render thee ! * In rirasmere Churchyard a simple slab, inscribed "William Words- worth," murks the Poet's grave. St. gtattbcfo, Chap. XX. Verses 1 — 16. 1. For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard. 2. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. 3. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing idle in the market place, ■4. And said unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you. And they went then- way. 5. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. 0. And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle ? 7. They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard ; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive. 8. So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith onto his steward, Call the labourers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last even unto the fh'st. 9. And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny. 52 BT. M\l IIII.V, X.X. 1- II . 10. But when the firsl oame, thej supposed thai theyBhould bave received more; and thej likewise received ever] m penny. 1 1. And when they had received it, they murmured againsl the g 1 man of the hon 12. Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast mu'lr th. hi ri|iml uiitn us, which have borne the burden ;iinl hea*1 of t) io day. 1:}. But hr answered one of them, ami said, Friend, I do thee no wrong: didsl thou not agree with me for a penny? 14. Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give onto this last, even as unto thee. 15. Is it not lawful for me to do what 1 \\ ill with mine own :' Is thine eye evil, because I am goo.l ? 16. So the last shall he first, and the first last: for many be railed, hut few ehosen. ! ye who would he wise, and read aright, And understand God's hidden mysteries, Who thirst for knowledge dear unto the soul — Come, drink — -drink freely at the fount divine! Come not with arrogance and worldly pride, With haughty hearing and with look of scorn : But come in lowliness and simple guise, Clothed in the garb of deep humility. ST. MATTHEW XX. 1— 1G. 53 Fevered and faiut, the blessed stream survey, The crystal stream that sparkles to the sun ; Its precious drops, its fair and goodly pearls, Will calm the spirit and enrich the mind. Drink — freely drink — 0! seek for treasure there; Our God hath said, Ye shall not search in vain. God moved amongst us as a son of care ; God spake and taught in thrilling parables. "Heaven's kingdom may be likened unto one That is an householder, who rose betimes To call his workmen to their daily toil." Here, pausing on the threshold, we must own This householder is something more than man. He views the heart, the spring of thought lays bare. Foresees the motive, and foreknows the end. Come, let us reason — let us earnestly And prayerfully consider ; let us aim To draw instruction, to elicit truth, And gather honey from a roadside flower. Those favoured men, those first, those early called, And set apart to labour for the Lord, Their work allotted, their reward secure, .-,1 . MAI IMI.W XX. 1-16. Did they a broken covenant bewail.' Did they weep o'er a promise unperformed ? Nay, surely. What they bargained for, and deemed Remuneration ample, was repaid. — The full-told hire, their just, their lawful claim. Those waiting servants, as the morn flew by, I >, how they longed to gain an entrance there ! The summons came — it met the watchful ear — They heard rejoicing, " and they went their way." Again he came at the eleventh hour, Where others stood, and idly gazed around. Where did they stand, and wherefore did they gaze ? Did they not congregate where men are found Alio seek a master, and who live by toil? But let us hear their trembling words of woe. " He saith to them, Why stand ye idly here ?'' They answered, " Lord, no man hath heard our prayer." Bow touching this reply! They might have said, " Our spirits yearn to till thy blessed soil ; We long have watched and numbered the dull hours, Still hoping on that one, more merciful Chan all his fellows, would some pity show, \nd ask our willing aid. 0, look on us! Thy field is wide — 0, set us work to do." ST. MATTHEW XX. 1—16. 55 A tender Lord, a master pitiful, Felt for their grief, and snatched them from despair. His eye, all-seeing, had beheld the heart. And noted well the thought invisible ; His prescience told of mental agony, Now cheered with hope, now sunk in bitter gloom, As some drew near, but, heedless, passed along. He called those servants ! With what joy divine The once despairing, weeping, waiting ones Now trod the vineyard, loved and long desired. We dare not say in duty more severe Than fell to others they led on the van ; But may we not, and do we not, believe That with untiring, persevering zeal They served that master ? and with stedfast eye They breasted danger and confronted scorn ? Great was their recompense ! The mighty Lord Reserves a right, unasked, to give his own ; The true of heart He singles out, and calls In his own time : their ready eagerness To do and suffer when He points the way — O ! is not this a willing servitude ? ST. MATTHEW XX. 1-lC. 1 3n< ouragement ! we see thee smiling here. A brighter hope tho humble Christian feels He long may wait, and fervently desire I > do some great thing for his risen Lord; llh longed-for work that Master may deny. Bui will sincerity go unrepaid ? Those early called met Jealousy half-way. And set at nought their lofty privilege. How blest were they, and how unthankful still! rhey should have joyed with more than angel-joy To see those wishful, waiting ones led home. Beware of Envy ! Let us flee the snare Her sophistry would lay to catch the soul. When blest ourselves and happy in our sphere. Let us rejoice as others smile around. VYhile basking in the special beam of heaven. Let us take heed, ay, let us watch and pray Lesl want of charity should win a frown. Let us. with assiduity and care, Perform each duty, whatsoe'er it be. \nd while we look not for a recompense As one of debt, yet let us rest assured That honest labour will not plead in vain. St 9 afte, Chap. XV. Verse 2. " This man receiveth sinners.' Ye haughty Scribes ! self-righteous hypocrites ! Ye Pharisees ! that meet the human eye As 'whitened sepulchres, 't is even so, — "This man receiveth sinners;" — penitents Who sue for mercy ; suppliants who weep Repentant tears — who bathe his blessed feet, Though travel-torn, and meekly kiss them dry : Poor thirsty souls, who greedily drink in The words of wisdom ; wretches hunger driven, Who seek the bread of life, and, seeking, find ; Weak, erring mortals, who perchance have tried To build up earthly hopes, but who have found 58 ST. I. I'M; W. 2. Earth's scaffolding give way, and own with shame Their utter failure, trusting evermore To Him their rock and their foundation sure. Such wandering sinners, weary, self-condemned, Our Lord with pity and with out-stretched arms Called to himself, and hade them " sin no more." And from his righteous throne he calls them still ; And "there is joy in heaven," aud angel songs Through shining space resound, and harps attuned To sweetest melody prolong the strain, When one lost sheep forsakes the rugged way, And hears and knows the Shepherd's loving call. Ye Scribes and Pharisees, self-justified, Who look within and mutter, " All is well ;" Who number o'er and set in vain array Your ceremonial, cold observances, — One single soul returning sorrow-stained For bygone evil, clinging now to God, Outweighs, outvalues in divine regard A teeming throng of self-appointed just, Who vaunt their merits and who claim reward. St f ukc, Chap. XVI. Verses 8, 9. " And the lord commended the unjust steward, because he had done wisely; for the children of this world are in tbeir generation wiser than the children of light. And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteous- ness ; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations." Alas, for man ! alas for human power Unswayed, unblest, unaided from above ; For he, the false and ever-watchful fiend, Will make a lodgment in the vacant heart Of self-regard, and guide it to his will ; His fell designs with tinselled drapery And cunning witcheries he will enfold, To make most beautiful — to charm the eye • 50 ST. LUKE XVI. 8, 9. Of mortal vision and entrap the mind, Mis crafty schemes with most alluring dress Be will enwrap, and call them worldly wisdom. Oh, what a faithless, profitless career ! This wretch, unworthy of so good a lord, This miscreant — raised to an honoured post. The pinnacle of trust and confidence — Unmoved, unsoftened hy munificence, Turns like a snake to lacerate the hand That made him what he is ; with deadly aim Shoots poisoned arrows of dishonesty Straight to their mark — his benefactor's soul ! \ud yet, with fawning and malignant smile. And honeyed words of well-disguised deceit, Wins o'er a master noble, trusting, true. And woos his favour only to betraj Stern Retribution may relax her speed, The shaft of justice for a little while May tarry on the wing, and judgment wait; The tear of penitence, the riven heart. ST. LUKE XVI. 8, 9. 61 May turn aside or stay the fatal blow ; But in his heart remorse was never known, 'T was full of evil and of base design. Disgrace and degradation were his lot, A branded criminal, he met his doom. But pause we here, and let us ponder well The anxious gaze, the calculating thought That rested on the future: ruin frowned, And, in no distant prospect, looming large, Stood hand in hand with beggary ; a grave Seemed open to receive his wasted form. " He could not dig ; to beg he was ashamed." Well might the hand of charity be closed When blasted honour aud a blighted name Sped forward in his path as pioneers. Still rose the dreaded future, terrible ! Without a friend to save him from despair. This all-important, fearful ' time to come ' With him was paramount ; departing power — A remnant of the means at his control — Was freely used to purchase and prepare A feeble refuge in his hour of need. This wicked man, this wretch unscrupulous, Was wise, ay, very wise. The master said His servant had done wisely : did he say 62 BT. LUKE XVI. 8, 9. The base ami hardened robber had done well •' Our Lord, all sorrow, might indeed proclaim That in this world the heirs of earthly joy Are wiser far than children of the light. With what anxiety and fond desire Do we unroll earth-spun felicity ! With what unwearied, persevering zeal Do we rise early, and so late take rest, To heap up riches — and for what intent ' To bring before us while we sojourn here The empty pleasures of a wicked world, Those rainbow hues that, as we near them, die - Those false enjoyments which, ere well begun. Will pass away and leave a void behind ! We buy fair lands, we give to them our names, We sow for time, but know not who shall reap. Oh. that our precious, never-dying souls Were tended thus with ever- wakeful care ! Our mortal breath is fleeting as a cloud — A little while we linger on the scene, And that which knew us knoweth us no more. But when the soul shall leave its tenement, And quit this mansion of untempered clay, All God-like will it enter a career Of endless bliss, or everlasting woe. A time of trial is this mortal span — ST. LUKE XVI. 8, 9. 63 The term of our probation. All we have, And all we hope for in the race of life, Must be again, as money lent, returned With fruitful interest to Him who gave. Wealth ! oh, thou fearful, thou responsible, Thou sacred trust ! thou subtle enemy, If unto man and his unchaste desires Thou panderest ! But, if to God the Lord And to His glory all thy nerves be strung, Then art thou, Wealth, a blessing bountiful ! Make friends of Mammon — sanctify your gold! With it set forth your great Creator's name ; With it send messengers to every land, And holiness in all its beauty show ; With it waft on the wings of every breeze The pleading accents of a Saviour's love ; With it relieve, with it instruct the poor ! We all are stewards, and the wealth we have Is not our own : our thoughts, our intellects, Our bodies, and our souls to Him belong, The mighty judge with whom we have to do. " Oh ! let us seek Him while He may be found." Ourselves, our all, let us devote to Him, And His high service deem a privilege. 64 ST. l.i M XVI. 8, 9. let us live that, when our mortal frames Shall mingle with the dust from whence they sprung, Our spirits, all-triumphant, may arise To seek the realms of glory and of joy ! §>foake, mir Soul. My soul, awake! — thy risen Saviour calls! Trust not the earthly fair : This lovely world, with whatsoe'er enthralls. Is but a snare. My soul, awake ! — To seek the realms on high. In raptured fancy roam ; Far, far beyond yon star- bespangled sky Is thy bright home. My soul, awake ! — To cleave the upper air, Where angel-feet have trod, All breathless spread thy pinions, and prepare To meet thy God ! % $1$. Whence comest thou, with viewless wing ? Art thou the sweet imagining Of love-thought deep and clear ? Or art thou of another mould — The last long breath of grief untold, The death-pang of a tear .' Perchance thou comest — can it be? — To sing a happy song to me Of love that cannot die ! Oh, what a beaming ray thou art ! Come, nestle in this beating heart. Thrice welcome, blessed sigh. A SIGH. 1)7 Perchance thou art — it may be so — The gasping agony of woe As waves of trouble roll. Pass on ! I would not have thee stay, Unless my joy can chase away The anguish of a soul. %\t beautiful Dale. Iaik valley! with thickets embowering, And rivulet leaping below, Where lilies and hyacinths flowering Shed over its margin a glow, — How sweet with a maiden to wander, And list to thy musical stream, All rapt in blest silence to ponder On love — and its fanciful dream. Iright (!5wes. Stabs of Poets' dreaming, Brilliants brightly beaming, Orbs serenely shining ; Gems of living purity, With a spell ye compass me, Past my soul's divining. Source of tender feeling, All the heart revealing, Liquid rays evolving ; Behold at your appealing Stern Wisdom lie, concealing All her wise resolving. 70 BBIGB i I YES. Electric sparks of fire! Ye pause not to inquire If man be fit to