/ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES POEMS BY FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT LONDON constablp: & company ltd. lo ORANGE STRKIiT. LlilCliSTEk Sc^UAKK 1910 6037 C^ TO MY WIFE Sweet Lady, queen-star of my life and thought, Whose honour, heart and name are one with mine, Who dost above life's troubled currents shine With such clear beam as oftentimes hath brought The storm-tossed spirit into harbours wrought By love and peace on life's rough margin Une; I wish no wish which is not wholly thine, I hope no hope but what thyself hast sought. Thou losest not, my Lady, in the wife. The golden love-light of our earlier days ; Time dims it not, it mounteth like the sun. Till earth and sky are radiant. Sweet, my life Lies at thy feet, and all life's gifts and praise, Yet are they nought to what thy knight hath won. a 2 8G7461 CONTENTS THE TEMPLE OF THE AGES . PAGE I THE UNNAMED LAKE 3 THE BURDEN OF TIME 5 IN THE WINTER WOODS 8 AMONG THE SPRUCES lO THE RIVER . . . . II THE STORM . . . . 13 NATURE'S RECOMPENSE •5 'natura VICTRIX' . 17 MILTON 22 MY LAITICE 29 SAMSON 3' DION .... 35 THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS 43 ' IN VIA MORTIS' 47 THOR .... 51 THE FEUD 63 DAWN .... 65 A REVERIE 66 OLD LETTERS . 68 THE WAYSIDE CROSS . • 69 A BIRTHDAY . 70 IN THE CHURCHYARD 71 THE CRIPPLE . 72 AT THE CROSS ROADS 11 ANDANTE 74 SORROW'S WAKING 75 via CONTENTS A WAIF . . . . , PAGE 76 A SISTER OF CHARITY 78 HIS PARTING . 80 'LITTLE FRIEND'S' GRAVE . 81 MY LITTLE SON 83 ANNIVERSARY 84 THROUGH THE GATES OF TIME 85 GOD'S YOUTH . 85 ON AN OLD VENETIAN PORTRAIT 86 A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC 88 KNOWLEDGE . 92 'POETAE SILVARUM' . 94 STELLA .... 96 A SONG OF TRIUMPH . 97 THE SPRITE . lOI THE POET'S SONG 103 ESTRANGEMENT 104 song's ETERNITY 105 LOVE SLIGHTED 106 LOST LOVE 108 BURIED LOVE . no MUTE LOVE . III love's FOOTPRINTS . 113 LOVELORN 114 TO A FLY IN WINTER 116 SUNRISE 1x8 120 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER 120 MY GARDEN . 121 TIME'S DEFEAT 122 MEMORY 123 A MASTER MASON 124 CONTENTS IX PAGE 'in te, domine' ...... 125 GUILTV ....... 125 VAN ELSEN ....... 126 IN MEMORIAM ...... 127 AN ODE ....... 128 A NOCTURNE ....... 129 DESTINY ....... 131 UNDER THE PINES ...... 132 THE TWO MISTRESSES .... 133 IN THE WOODS ...... 134 BV THE SEA ...... 135 SONG ....... 135 JEHORAM ...... 136 ON THE CLIFF ..... 138 VICTORY ...... 139 'LABOR INSTANS' ..... 139 TOWARDS EVENING ..... 140 THE SKYLARK'S MESSAGE .... 142 ISOLATION ...... 144 A MOOD ...... • 145 THE STING OF DEATH .... 148 'TE JUDICE' ...... 150 THE OLD GARDENER .... 151 A QUESTION ...... • 151 ON DARWIN'S TOMB IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY • 152 EPITAPH ON DR. JENNER .... . 152 THE SNOWSTORM ..... '53 THE WINDMILL ..... 154 THE NIGHT-WIND ..... '55 LEO XIII • '55 JACK ....... . .56 THK ABBOT ...... . 158 X CONTENTS A HYMN OF EMPIRE .... CANADA ..... THE COLOURS OF THE FLAG IN MEMORIAM .... BRITISH WAR SONG .... FROM CANADA .... A VOICE FROM CANADA INSCRIPTION ON SOLDIERS' MONUMENT, QUEBEC REQUIESCAT ..... WILLIAM M'KINLEY .... THE EXCEEDING BITTER CRY WAHONOMIN ..... PAGE 1 68 170 172 174 176 177 179 180 181 182 183 185 RELIGIOUS AND DEVOTIONAL VERSES THE SOUL'S QUEST . . . . . -193 CALVARY ....... 201 AT LAUDS ....... 203 THE EVERLASTING FATHER ..... 204 HYMN ........ 205 OUR DUTY ....... 206 CRUCIFIXION ...... 207 EVOLUTION . ...... 208 HYMN — After the Prayer of Consecration . . . 216 HYMN — After receiving the Holy Communion . . 218 HYMN ........ 220 LINES . . . . . . . . 221 HYMN ........ 222 THE CROWN OF THORNS ..... 222 'AD ECCLESIAM DEI'. ..... 223 IN MEMORIAM — A. H. MACKONOCHIE . . . 22$ THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES .... 226 THE EUCHARIST ...... 227 CONTENTS XI PAGE THE PRAYER BOOK ..... 228 JUSTIN ...... 229 ' AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM ' . . . 242 SONNETS INSCRIPTION WRITTEN IN A BOOK OF SONNETS . • 245 THE KING'S BASTION ..... ■ 245 TO A GREEK ST.A.TUE . . . " . . 246 TIME ....... 246 ACROSS THE SEA ..... 247 LOVE'S SHADOWS ..... 248 ON BEING GIVEN A PIECE OF EDELWEISS BEFORE VIS IT- ING SWITZERLAND .... . 248 ROME ....... • 249 TO THE SEA ...... . 250 ISCARIOT ...... 250 MANHOOD ...... 251 THE HEAVEN OF LOVE .... 252 LOVE'S ETERNITY ..... 252 AT NIGHTFALL ..... 253 EASTER ISLAND ..... . 254 THE MARTYR ...... • 254 EVENSONG IN THE WOODS .... • 255 THE MILL-STREAM ..... . 256 BY THE GRAVE OF KEATS .... . 256 THE LAURENTIANS ..... • 257 THE CITY CHURCH ..... . 258 ON THE RETURN OF OUR TROOPS . . 258 OUT OF THE STORM ..... • 259 WORDS ....... 260 THE POET'S EMPIRE ..... 260 IN MEMORIAM. E. S. . 261 xu CONTENTS TRUTH . PAGE . 262 SHAKESPEARE 262 AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 263 WESTMINSTER ABBEY 264 NEW year's eve 264 DEATH AND THE CHILD 265 DEATH AS PRIEST 266 DEATH AND LIFE . 266 COLUMBUS . 267 IDOLS . 268 SOLOMON 269 THE KEY OF LIFE : A MYSTERY-PLAY 27.1 THE TEMPLE OF THE AGES These mountains sleep, white winter's mantle round them, The thunder's voice no longer breaks their rest ; From bluest heights the sun beholds with rapture The noble pose of each gigantic crest. The generations of the clouds have vanished Which lingered idly here through autumn days ; The leaves have gone, the voices of the tempest No longer roll to heaven their hymn of praise. Deep hid in snow, the streams with muffled murmurs Pour down dark caverns to the infinite sea ; This awful peace has vexed their restless childhood ; They hurry from its dread solemnity. Even the climbing woods are mute and spell-bound. And, halting midway on the steep ascent, The patient spruces hold their breath for wonder, Nor shake the snow with which their boughs are bent. Now as the sun goes down with all his shining. Huge shadows creep among these mighty walls. And on the haunting ghosts of by-gone ages The dreamy splendour of the starlight falls. A V t vj 2 THE TEMPLE OF THE AGES Not Nineveh, not Babylon nor Egypt, In all their treasures 'neath the hungry sand, Can show a sight so awful and majestic As this waste temple in this newer land. The king that reared these mighty courts was Chaos, His servants, fire and elemental war ; The Titan hands of Earthquake and of Ocean These granite slabs and pillars laid in store. And, lauding here the vast and living Father, The ages one by one have knelt and prayed. Until the ghostly echoes of their worship Come back and make man's puny heart afraid. THE UNNAMED LAKE THE UNNAMED LAKE It sleeps among the thousand hills Where no man ever trod, And only nature's music fills The silences of God, Great mountains tower above its shore, Green rushes fringe its brim, And o'er its breast for evermore The wanton breezes skim. Dark clouds that intercept the sun Go there in Spring to weep. And there, when Autumn days are done, White mists lie down to sleep. Sunrise and sunset crown with gold The peaks of ageless stone. Where winds have thundered from of old And storms have set their throne. No echoes of the world afar Disturb it night or day, But sun and shadow, moon and star Pass and repass for aye. 'Twas in the grey of early dawn, When first the lake we spied. And fragments of a cloud were drawn Half down the mountain side. THE UNNAMED LAKE Along the shore a heron flew, And from a speck on high, That hovered in the deepening blue, We heard the fish-hawk's cry. Among the cloud-capt solitudes, No sound the silence broke. Save when, in whispers down the woods. The guardian mountains spoke. Through tangled brush and dewy brake. Returning whence we came. We passed in silence, and the lake We left without a name. THE BURDEN OF TIME THE BURDEN OF TIME Before the seas and mountains were brought forth, I reigned. I hung the universe in space, I capped earth's poles with ice to South and North, And set the moving tides their bounds and place. I smoothed the granite mountains with my hand, My fingers gave the continents their form ; I rent the heavens and loosed upon the land The fury of the whirlwind and the storm. I stretched the dark sea like a nether sky Fronting the stars between the ice-clad zones ; I gave the deep his thunder ; the Most High Knows well the voice that shakes His mountain thrones. I trod the ocean caverns black as night. And silent as the bounds of outer space, And where great peaks rose darkly towards the light I planted life to root and grow apace. Then through a stillness deeper than the grave's, The coral spires rose slowly one by one, Until the white shafts pierced the upper waves And shone like silver in the tropic sun. 6 THE BURDEN OF TIME I ploughed with glaciers down the mountain glen, And graved the iron shore with stream and tide ; I gave the bird her nest, the lion his den. The snake long jungle-grass wherein to hide. In lonely gorge and over hiU and plain, I sowed the giant forests of the world ; The great earth like a human heart in pain Has quivered with the meteors I have hurled. I plunged whole continents beneath the deep, And left them sepulchred a million years ; I called, and lo, the drowned lands rose from sleep, Sundering the waters of the hemispheres. I am the lord and arbiter of man — I hold and crush between my finger-tips Wild hordes that drive the desert caravan, Great nations that go down to sea in ships. In sovereign scorn I tread the races down. As each its puny destiny fulfils, On plain and island, or where huge cliffs frown. Wrapt in the deep thought of the ancient hills. The wild sea searches vainly round the land For those proud fleets my arm has swept away ; Vainly the wind along the desert sand Calls the great names of kings who once held sway. Yea, Nineveh and Babylon the great Are fallen — like ripe ears at harvest-tide ; I set my heel upon their pomp and state, The people's serfdom and the monarch's pride. THE BURDEN OF TIME 7 One doom waits all — art, speech, law, gods, and men, Forests and mountains, stars and shining sun, — The hand that made them shall unmake again, I curse them and they wither one by one. Waste altars, tombs, dead cities where men trod, Shall roll through space upon the darkened globe, Till I myself be overthrown, and God Cast off creation like an outworn robe. 8 IN THE WINTER WOODS IN THE WINTER WOODS Winter forests mutely standing Naked on your bed of snow, Wide your knotted arms expanding To the biting winds that blow, Nought ye heed of storm or stress, Stubborn, silent, passionless. Buried is each woodland treasure, Gone the leaves and mossy rills, Gone the birds that filled with pleasure All the valleys and the hills ; Ye alone of all that host Stand like soldiers at your post. Grand old trees, the words ye mutter, Nodding in the frosty wind. Wake some thoughts I cannot utter, But which haunt the heart and mind. With a meaning, strange and deep. As of visions seen in sleep. Something in my inmost thinking Tells me I am one with you. For a subtle bond is linking Nature's offspring through and through, And your spirit like a flood Stirs the pulses of my blood. IN THE WINTER WOODS While I linger here and listen To the creaking boughs above, Hung with icicles that glisten As if kindling into love, Human heart and soul unite With your majesty and might. Horizontal, rich with glory, Through the boughs the red sun's rays Clothe you as some grand life-story Robes an aged man with praise, When, before his setting sun, Men recount what he has done. But the light is swiftly fading. And the wind is icy cold, And a mist the moon is shading, Pallid in the western gold ; In the night-winds still ye nod. Sentinels of Nature's God. Now with laggard steps returning To the world from whence I came, Leave I all the great West burning With the day that died in flame, And the stars, with silver ray, Light me on my homeward way. 10 AMONG THE SPRUCES AMONG THE SPRUCES 'Tis sweet, O God, to steal away, Before the morning sun is high. Upon some frosty winter's day, When not a cloud is on the sky, And all the world is white below. Knee-deep with freshly-fallen snow, — To steal into the silent woods Before the trees are quite awake. And watch them in their snowy hoods A rough-and-ready toilet make, When in the little breezes creep And rouse them gently from their sleep. 'Tis sweet, O God, to kneel among The snow-bent trees, and lift the mind Above the boughs where birds have sung, Above the pathways of the wind. Into the very heart of space, — To where the angels see Thy face. For while my spirit mounts in prayer, So keen becomes its mystic sight. That through the sunshine in the air I see a new and heavenly light. And all the bowed woods seem to be Acknowledging the Trinity. THE RIVER II THE RIVER Why hurry, little river, Why hurr}' to the sea ? There is nothing there to do But to sink into the blue And all forgotten be. There is nothing on that shore But the tides for evermore, And the faint and far-off line Where the winds across the brine For ever, ever roam And never find a home. Why hurry, little river, From the mountains and the mead, Where the graceful elms are sleeping And the quiet cattle feed ? The loving shadows cool The deep and restful pool ; And every tribute stream Brings its own sweet woodland dream Of the mighty woods that sleep Where the sighs of earth are deep, And the silent skies look down On the savage mountain's frown. Oh, linger, little river, Your banks are all so fair, 12 THE RIVER Each morning is a hymn of praise, Each evening is a prayer. All day the sunbeams glitter On your shallows and your bars, And at night the dear God stills you With the music of the stars. THE STORM 13 THE STORM O GRIP the earth, ye forest trees, Grip well the earth to-night. The Storm-God rides across the seas To greet the morning light. All clouds that wander through the skies Are tangled in his net, The frightened stars have shut their eyes. The breakers fume and fret. The birds that cheer the woods all day Now tremble in their nests. The giant branches round them sway, The wild wind never rests. The squirrel and the cunning fox Have hurried to their holes. Far off, like distant earthquake shocks. The muffled thunder rolls. In scores of hidden woodland dells, Where no rough winds can harm. The timid wild-flowers toss their bells In reasonless alarm. Only the mountains rear their forms. Silent and grim and bold ; To them the voices of the storms Are as a tale re-told. 14 THE STORM They saw the stars in heaven hung, They heard the great Sea's birth, They know the ancient pain that wrung The entrails of the Earth. Sprung from great Nature's royal lines. They share her deep repose, — Their rugged shoulders robed in pines, Their foreheads crowTied with snows. But now there comes a lightning flash. And now on hill and plain The charging clouds in fury dash. And blind the world with rain. NATURE'S RECOMPENSE 15 NATURE'S RECOMPENSE With barren heart and weary mind, I wander from the haunts of men, And strive in solitude to find The careless joys of youth again. I seek the long-loved woodland brook, I watch the clouds when day is done, I climb the mountain top and look, All-eager, at the rising sun. I plunge into the forest glade. Untrodden yet by human feet. And, loitering through the light and shade, I hear the birds their songs repeat. But all in vain, they will not come — Those voices that I knew of old ; Great Nature's lips to me are dumb. Her heart to me is dead and cold. In vain I lie upon her breast And ask her for the dreams I seek. She takes no pity on my quest, I cannot force her lips to speak. Then, haply, in a calm despair I give up seeking, and I lie, All-thoughtless, in the woodland air And 'neath the leaf-bespangled sky. i6 NATURE'S RECOMPENSE And then it comes, the voice of old, Which soothes the realms of death and birth, The message through the ages told. The cradle song of Mother Earth. And as it thrills each languid sense And lifts me from the world apart, Great Nature makes full recompense For her past coldness to my heart. NATURA VICTRIX ' 17 ' NATURA VICTRIX ' On the crag I sat in wonder, Stars above me, forests under ; Through the valleys came and went Tempest forces never spent, And the gorge sent up the thunder Of the stream within it pent. Round me with majestic bearing Stood the giant mountains, wearing Helmets of eternal snows, Cleft by nature's labour throes — Monster faces mutely staring Upward into God's repose. At my feet in desolation Swayed the pines, a shadowy nation. Round the wood-lake deep and dread, Round the river glacier-fed, Where a ghostly undulation Shakes its subterranean bed. And I cried, ' O wildernesses ! Mountains ! which the wind caresses, In a savage love sublime, Through the bounds of space and time, All your moods and deep distresses Roll around me like a chime. B i8 ' NATURA VICTRIX ' ' Lo, I hear the mighty chorus Of the elements that bore us Down the course of nature's stream, Onward in a haunted dream Towards the darkness, where before us Time and death forgotten seem. ' Now behold the links of lightning Round the neck of storm-god tightening, Madden him with rage and shame Till he smites the earth with flame, In the darkening and the brightening Of the clouds on which he came. ' Nature ! at whose will are driven Tides of ocean, winds of heaven. Thou who rulest near and far Forces grappling sun and star, Is to thee the knowledge given Whence these came and what they are ? ' Is thy calm the calm of knowing Whence the force is, whither going ? Is it but the blank despair Of the wrecked, who does not care, Out at sea, what wind is blowing To the death that waits him there ? ' Mother Nature, stern aggressor. Of thy child the mind-possessor, Thou art in us like a flood, Welling through our thought and blood — Force evolving great from lesser, As the blossom from the bud. ' NATURA VICTRIX * 19 * Yea, I love thy fixed, enduring Times and seasons, life procuring From abysmal heart of thine ; And my spirit would resign All its dreams and hopes alluring With thy spirit to combine. ' Would that I, amid the splendour Of the thunder-blasts, could render Back the dismal dole of birth, Fusing soul-clouds in the girth Of thy rock breasts, or the tender Green of everlasting earth. ' Haply, when the scud was flying And the lurid daylight dying Through the rain-smoke on the sea, Thoughtless, painless, one with thee, I, in perfect bondage lying. Should for ever thus be free. * Mighty spirits, who have striven Up life's ladder-rounds to heaven. Or ye freighted ones who fell On the poppy slopes of hell, When the soul was led or driven. Knew ye not who wrought the spell ? ' Understood not each his brother From the features of our mother Stamped on every human face ? Did not earth, man's dwelling-place. Draw you to her as no other, With a stronger bond than grace ? 2a * NATURA VICTRIX ' * Tempest hands the forests rending, Placid stars the night attending, Mountains, storm-clouds, land and sea, Nature ! — make me one with thee ; From my soul its pinions rending, Chain me to thy liberty. * Hark ! the foot of death is nearing, And my spirit aches with fearing. Hear me, mother, hear my cry. Merge me in the harmony Of thy voice which stars are hearing. Wonder-stricken in the sky. ' IMother, will no sorrow move thee ? Does the silence heartless prove thee ? Thou who from the rocks and rain Mad'st this soul, take back again What thy fingers wrought to love thee Through the furnace of its pain. * Giant boulders, roll beside me. Tangled ferns, bow down and hide me, Hide me from the face of death ; Or, great Nature, on thy breath Send some mighty words to guide me, Till the demon vanisheth.' Then as sweet as organ playing. Came a voice, my fears allaying. From the mountains and the sea, * Wouldst thou, soul, be one with me, In thy might the slayer slaying ? Wrestle not with what must be.' ' NATURA VICTRIX ' 2i Heart and spirit in devotion, Vibrant with divine emotion, Bowed before that mighty sound. And amid the dark around Quaffed the strength of land and ocean In a sacrament profound. Then I burst my bonds asunder, And my voice rose in the thunder With a full and powerful breath, Strong for what great nature saith. And I bade the stars in wonder See me slay the slayer — death. 22 MILTON MILTON O MIGHTY Spirit, who, from out the deep And storehouse of God's purposes, awhile Didst breathe our air, awhile wast prisoned here, In these dull chains of flesh and circumstance, We hear at times in dreams, when all is dark, Thy pinions nearing earth, and once again. From mingling with the mighty elements That throng the awful realms where God's huge thoughts Grow to star systems and the nebulae Are but His dim imagining of worlds. Thy form revisits earth and gives man cheer And spurs his spirit on to chafe and fret And bound towards liberty in fearful leaps Of insurrection. Yea, when palling night Of human littleness and puny aims Broods thick and starless over us, and when With bestial opulence men feast and gorge Upon the swine husks in the trough of life, Thy steadfast spirit wakes some son of man. And lo, before his wondering eyes there burns The awful vision of the infinite ; And in his ears, from ocean, earth and sky. There rings a constant music and a psalm Of mighty harmonies which drowns the voice Of human arrogance and slavish fear. II O glorious Master, as I sing, there dawns Upon my soul, in dim, auroral light, MILTON 23 The vision of thy childhood, and I see Thy face so beautiful with those large eyes Filled with the wonder waking on the world Hath brought thee, and with promise strange, When darkness falls, of sights invisible, — The Eternal City and the abysmal gulf And thundering legions of the hosts on high. No sorrow clouds thee yet. The hedgerows fair Sparkle with dew, birds sing their songs to thee In pleasant country lanes. Each day when dawn Peers on thy sleep through bowery eglantine, And scent of honeysuckle fills the air, Thy dreams are fed with beauty ; and when day Brings forth thy books, then waking dreams are sweet Until the dewy eve with gentle step Creeps up the village street in livery Of sober grey, and in the neighbouring folds The patient sheep by watchful shepherds' care Are warmly housed, and nightingales begin Among the trees to make sweet minstrelsy. When Hesperus comes, and in the glowing west The crescent moon follows the golden sun. Then most thine unstained spirit feels the sense Of the illimitable love of God, Who midst the shouts of Angels hung the stars Upon earth's canopy, and built on fire The firm foundation pillars of the world. Nor is God less to thee that day by day The Gods and Heroes of the olden world Return, and people for thee in thy walks The hills and valleys and the singing streams. Beauty transcending truth doth Hft thy mind To highest truth where all things blend in one. And, ever mingling with the joys of youth, 24 MILTON There comes that deeper joy of soul which springs From lust of noble deeds and high resolve To reach the topmost round of human fame And make the ages thine through some great song Whose strains will perish only with the world. The vision grows before thee of the arched And fretted vault and blazoned window panes Of England's Minster, where great England guards Her noblest dead, and where the living past, Nursed in the nation's throbbing heart, waits on And watches for the final hour, God's doom Upon man's deeds. A whisper in thy soul Tells thee thou too art kindred with the dead Whom Death found deathless, and whom Time hath crowned With glory deepening as the years go by. Now comes the great resolve, the steadfast choice, The barter of the present for the gain Of some far future, which, like birth of dawn, Gilds all the wide horizon of thy life. Ill So, towards the chosen goal thy youth speeds on, The fair unfolding flower of purity Bestrewing thy path, and avenues of fame Thrown wide to thee, whose vast capacious mind Goes searching through the chambers of the dead For some high theme to sing in golden song. And ever beauty lures thee, and the dreams Of beauty not of Earth. Austere and cold Thou shunn'st the paint and tinsel of the world. The fire of prisoned passion in thy heart Can find no vent. No mistress fair enough For thine embrace breathes in the living world. Until, by tortuous ways and anguished hours MILTON 25 And grievous battling with the realms of fact, Thou find'st man's fairest mistress — Liberty ; And catching at her skirts and wooing her, High consecration crowns thee, and thy days Are given in homage to the Queen of Queens, The peerless one, against whose throne the sea Beats furiously and hideous mist conceals, And men wage war on, mocking her and thee. But thou, unflinching, dost through storm and hate With faith unshaken face the maddened world. And hurl defiance at it like a god Dashing to atoms some rebellious star That in the myriad clusters of the night Provokes his fury. In those silent years — Silent for thee though noisy with the din Of babbling tongues — thy spirit bends itself Into the common fray, and common men Throng round thee, knowing thee not, and counting thee A pedant babbling with the vulgar crowd. But 'neath the iron yoke that bows thy neck Self-immolation to the cause of man Makes drudgery noble ; and in thy vast soul The phantom forms of evil, which thy pen Joins battle with, begin to move and breathe And grow a world around thee, and, behold, The wondrous purpose of thy fixed resolve Takes shape, till bonds of actual are burst. And thy soul rising up in majesty Stands wonder-stricken viewing the sublime. IV Now darkness falls and night of hideous ruin, And desolating tides of chance and fate 26 MILTON Bestrew the shore with wrecks. Thou art alone, Once more alone, and more alone art thou, Blind, weak and friendless, yet unconquerable. But lo, the closing of the world to thee. The shutting of life's windows on the sun, Uncloses vaster worlds of human thought ; And Liberty, thy mistress, takes thy hand And leads thee fearless down the grim abyss Where rebel angels hold their council dark. Like thee, though overthrown, defiant still. Thou hearest in their parliament the voice Of one who stoops not at the feet of power But courts damnation in magnificence Of uttermost rebellion, and thy heart Yearns towards the fallen fiend in sympathy ; For thou art fallen and unconquered too. From out the deep, thy soaring spirit cleaves The upper air and mounts to highest heaven. And sees the beauty of the Father's face. And sights that blinding Death alone reveals. Then round the singing spheres thy winged thoughts Bear thee, thou skirt'st the utmost void. Time, space, the giant march of human things. Philosophies and those voluptuous gods That hold in fee the sunshine of the earth. Her streams and mountains and the sounding sea That gnaws for ever at her coasts, all these Thy soul, unfettered, sees with sight divine. E'en while thou sitt'st beside thy cottage door Crippled and blind, the white hairs on thy brow. The kind sun warming thee, and humming bees Making soft melody that dies away In that great utterance rolling from thy lips Of hidden things, beyond the power of man To grasp, unaided by thy glorious soul, — MILTON 27 Those things which she, the pale girl at thy side, Uncomprehending, duteous, noteth down. Now fade the battlements of time, and Death, In form of eagle, winged for loftiest flight. Bears thy great soul triumphant to its throne Among the stars, where Paradise regained Rolls on in flowery meadows at thy feet ; And He whose face thou darkly saw'st before Beyond all love is lovable, and thou Know'st now the secret providence of God And the sure concord of the Eternal's ways. Lave now thy feet in that clear stream of life That issues from the throne, and raise thy voice In the eternal harmonies which men And rebel angels cannot discord make. Now greet thee Michael, and the Heavenly Host, Whom erstwhile thou didst sing in deathless song. And those whom once thou scomed'st on the earth. And who scorned thee in adverse ways of thought, Thou see'st all white in God's high favour too. For on God's hill the paths of duty wind By devious courses to the sunlit top. And lo, the riddle of the Universe, The brightness and the darkness of the world, The greatness and the meanness of the soul. All, all are plain to thee, for all are solved In that vast central heart whose being is Love. VI O Mighty Spirit, bend from out the Heavens ; Thou wast the greatest, noblest of our race ; The spirit of the Vikings wrought in thee ; The spirit of all warriors fired thy veins ; 28 MILTON The cries of all our poets rang through thee ; The glories of all kingship crowned thee king ; Bend down to us, and on the ancient race Which gave thee birth, whose speech rolls round the world. Pour down thy gift of song, and rear us men With courage noble in the stress of things As thine was, men who cringe not, court no gain, Who love but truth and follow liberty. And whose exalted vision and vast mind O'ertop the narrowing walls of life and scan The glorious regions of unclouded light, Where God reigns and the angels are at peace. MY LATTICE 29 MY LATTICE My lattice looks upon the North, The winds are cool that enter ; At night I see the stars come forth, Arcturus in the centre. The curtain down my casement drawn Is dewy mist, which lingers Until my maid, the rosy dawn, Uphfts it with her fingers. The sparrows are my matin-bell. Each day my heart rejoices, When, from the trellis where they dwell. They call me with their voices. Then, as I dream with half-shut eye. Without a sound or motion, To me that little square of sky Becomes a boundless ocean. And straight my soul unfurls its sails That blue sky-sea to sever. My fancies are the noiseless gales That waft it on for ever. I sail into the depths of space And leave the clouds behind me, I pass the old moon's hiding-place, The sun's rays cannot lind me. 30 MY LATTICE I sail beyond the solar light, Beyond the constellations, Across the voids where loom in sight New systems and creations, I pass great worlds of silent stone. Whence light and life have vanished, Which wander on to tracts unknown. In lonely exile banished. I meet with spheres of fiery mist Which warm me as I enter. Where — ruby, gold and amethyst — The rainbow lights concentre. And on I sail into the vast. New wonders aye discerning. Until my mind is lost at last, And, suddenly returning, I feel the wind which, cool as dew. Upon my face is falling, And see again my patch of blue And hear the sparrows calling. SAMSON 31 SAMSON Plunged in night, I sit alone Eyeless on this dungeon stone, Naked, shaggy and unkempt, Dreaming dreams no soul hath dreamt. Rats and vermin round my feet Play unharmed, companions sweet ; Spiders weave me overhead Silken curtains for my bed. Day by day the mould I smell Of this fungus-blistered cell ; Nightly in my haunted sleep O'er my face the lizards creep. Gyves of iron scrape and burn Wrists and ankles when I turn, And my collared neck is raw With the teeth of brass that gnaw. God of Israel, canst Thou see All my fierce captivity ? Do Thy sinews feel my pains ? Hearest Thou the clanking chains ? Thou who madest me so fair, Strong and buoyant as the air. Tall and noble as a tree, With the passions of the sea, 32 SAMSON Swift as horse upon my feet, Fierce as lion in my heat, Rending, Hke a wisp of hay. All that dared withstand my way, Canst Thou see me through the gloom Of this subterranean tomb, — Blinded tiger in his den. Once the lord and prince of men ? Clay was I ; the potter Thou With Thy thumb-nail smooth'dst my brow, Roll'dst the spittle-moistened sands Into limbs between Thy hands. Thou didst pour into my blood Fury of the fire and flood. And upon the boundless skies Thou didst first unclose my eyes. And my breath of life was flame, God-like from the source it came, Whirling round like furious wind. Thoughts upgathered in the mind. Strong Thou mad'st me, till at length All my weakness was my strength ; Tortured am I, blind and wrecked. For a faulty architect. From the woman at my side. Was I woman-like to hide What she asked me, as if fear Could my iron heart come near ? SAMSON 33 Nay, I scorned and scorn again Cowards who their tongues restrain ; Cared I no more for Thy laws Than a wind of scattered straws. When the earth quaked at my name And my blood was all aflame, Who was I to lie, and cheat Her who clung about my feet ? From Thy open nostrils blow Wind and tempest, rain and snow ; Dost Thou curse them on their course. For the fury of their force ? Tortured am I, wracked and bowed, But the soul within is proud ; Dungeon fetters cannot still Forces of the tameless will. Israel's God, come down and see All my fierce captivity ; Let Thy sinews feel my pains. With Thy fingers lift my chains. Then, with thunder loud and wild. Comfort Thou Thy rebel child. And with lightning split in twain Loveless heart and sightless brain. Give me splendcnir in my death — Not this sickening dungeon breath, Creeping down my blood like shme. Till it wastes me in my prime. c ^ 34 SAMSON Give me back for one blind hour, Half my former rage and power, And some giant crisis send, Meet to prove a hero's end. Then, O God, Thy mercy show — Crush him in the overthrow At whose life they scorn and point. By its greatness out of joint. DION 35 DION A POEM Argument Dion of Syracuse (408-353 B.C.), philosopher, was a near relative, through his wife Arete, of the tyrant Dionysius the Second, by whom he was banished. He took up his residence at Athens, but on hearing that the tyrant had seized his son and given Arete in marriage to another, with a small and faithful force he returned to Syracuse, captured the place, and drove Dionysius into Ortygia, a fortress within the city walls. As soon as their oppression was relieved, the suspicious Syracusans began to fear the power of Dion, although he had nobly refused to make concessions to Dionysius when urged thereto by the passionate appeals of Arete and her son, held captive in Ortygia. On hearing of a plot formed against him among the citizens, by Heracleides, without taking revenge on the thankless city, Dion withdrew to Leontini, but only to be speedily recalled to rescue the people a second time from the ravages of Dionysius, who had charged out upon the town as soon as Dion had withdrawn. Again Dion returned to Syracuse, and this time succeeded in routing the tyrant from his stronghold and restoring peace. With a magnanimity equal to his valour, he pardoned Heracleides and his confreres. On breaking into the deserted fortress at the head of his troops, Dion, after years of separation, found his wife Arete. Dion naturally succeeded to the throne of the deposed monarch, but his reforms and the severity of his manners and rule rendered him unpoi)u]ar with his fickle fellow-townsnicn, and plots were formed for his assassination. He scorned to take precautions against attack, and so fell a victim to his 36 DION valour. He was surrounded, on the day of the festival of the Koreia, in his apartment in the palace, by a band of youths of distinguished muscular strength, who endeavoured to throw and strangle him. But the old warrior proving too strong for them, they were obliged to send out one of their number through a back door to procure a sword. With this Dion, a man in many ways too great for his age and circumstances, was despatched. Pray youths, what urgent business claims our ear On this high feast when all keep holiday ? Already do the gay-decked barges move Across the harbour to the sacred grove, And shouts and music reach us even here, Where through the balustrades the dancing sea Marbles this chamber with reflected lights. What ! Is it treason ? Ye have come to slay ? I read your purpose right. The palace guards Have been secured, and all retreat cut off, And I am at your mercy. It is well. So often have I met death face to face, His eyes now wear the welcome of a friend's. Is it for hate of Dion, or for gold. Ye come to stain your honour with my blood ? And think ye I shall kneel and fawn on you. And cry for mercy with a woman's shrieks, Though me, like some old lion in his den. Fate, stratagems, not ye, have tracked to death ? The lion is old, but all his teeth are sound. What ! Ye would seize me ? There, I shake you off. Ye did not deem these withered arms so strong That ye five cubs could thus be kept at bay, Despite your claws and fury and fierce barks. But I am Dion — Dion, Plato's friend — And I have faced the rain of human blood, DION 37 The lightning of the sword-strokes on my helm, The thunder of on-rushing cavalry, When 3^e were sucking babies at the breast. And think ye I am one whom ye can slay By throttling, as an outcast slays her child. Pinching the life out of its tiny throat ? Not this shall be my death, for I am royal, And I must royally die. Go, fetch a sword. And I shall wed it nobly like a king. I brought you manhood with my conquering arm, I offered Syracuse a way to fame. I could have made our city reign as queen. With her dominion founded in the sea. Cemented with wise bands of equal laws, A constitution wrought by sober minds. Expanding with its growth ; yet ye would not. But mewed and babbled, cried and sulked again, Like children that will quarrel for a coin And yet its value know not. I am king, Beyond this honour, if it honour be To sit enthroned above so base a herd, — A king of mine own self. My thoughts are matched With those of gods, I have no kin with you. Go publish my last words when I am dead, And sting the city's heart with them. Say, ' Thus, O men of Syracuse, thus Dion spake. Falling upon the threshold of his death. With face turned back, eyes fixed, and cheek un- blanched, For one last moment, at the braying mob, Ere into dark he passed to meet his peers. The gods and heroes of the nether world.' Yea, tell the foolish rabble, ' Dion sends His love and duty as a warrior should, 38 DION Unto the sweet earth of his native town, Soon to be watered with his warmest blood. He loved her pleasant streets, her golden air. The circle of her hills, her sapphire sea, And he loved once, and loved unto his death. The poor, half-brutal thing her mob became Under the heel of tyrants ; had he not, He might have finished out his course of days And died among the pillows on his bed. But he so loved his Syracuse that she, Grown sick of his great heart, let out its red Upon the pebbles of her streets, and cried, " Mine own hands slew him, for he loved too much." ' Too much, ay, at her piteous call he came And gripped the tyrant's heel upon your neck. And overthrew him, bidding you uprise. And when your silly fathers feared his strength, And set their murderous snares around his path, The sword he drew for her, for her he sheathed. Disdaining, as a warrior, to be wroth At the snake's use of its recovered power To sting the breast that warmed it back to life ; And he whose word could then have crushed the town Into a shapeless ruin at his feet. Led off to Leontini all his men, Who, had ye slain him, would upon the ground Have heaped your bodies for his funeral pyre ; And who, with eyes that cursed her very stones. Left Syracuse unharmed, at his command. Yet on the morrow in your new distress. Ye were not loath to send with craven haste Your weeping envoys fawning at his feet And crying, " Come and save us ; oh, forget. DION 39 Great Dion, how we wronged thee ; come again, Yet this once more, and save our Syracuse." ' There are no depths in ocean, earth or sky So deep as Dion's pride ; there is no force Commensurate with the scorn which curled his lip In detestation of the fickle world. Before he plunged for ever down death's gulf. So proud was he that he despised success, His manhood was the crown his spirit wore. His stem heart felt no pulse of arrogant joy When charging foremost on the routed ranks Of Dionysius in precipitous flight ; Nor when, as conqueror, up the city's hill The wild mob bore him with their loud acclaims, And women from the house-roofs hailed him king, Shrilling his praises out to the great deep. But he was proud, as might some god be proud. At his self-conquest, when for mercy sued False Heracleides, whose perfidious plot To overthrow him well-nigh wrought your doom. Ye saw the traitor kneel, ye heard his words. How his swift tongue did hide the poisoned fangs. But when all voices clamoured, " Let him die," The one most wronged obeyed that inner voice Which bade him spare a fallen enemy. And, stooping down, he raised and pardoned him, Well knowing as ye the baseness of the man, But being too great for meanness like revenge. ' Had Dion not been proud, O Syracuse, He might have told such tale of woes endured As would, like some moist south-wind after frost, Have made your very walls and porticoes Run down with tears of silent sympathy. 40 DION Ye thought that day he read to you unmoved The letter that his own son wrote to him In his young blood, sobbed out with broken cries, While Dionysius pressed the red-hot irons Against the boy's slim back, that he was stone. Inhuman, or if human, weak like you. And would with treason buy him from his chains. Nay, but ye knew not how his father's heart Burnt with the fury of the molten sun. And how the ashes of his being choked The steadfast voice which cried, " I will not yield, I will not wrong my blood with treachery To what is right — the gods deliver him." ' 'Twas well ye marked him not that other day When he broke first into the citadel Deserted by the tyrant, and there found, Whiter, more stone-like than the marble shaft, 'Gainst which she crouched from him in speechless fear. His wife, his long-lost Arete, and went And drew her white hands from her face and said, " My wife, my own, thy Dion comes again. And his great love doth wash thy body clean From sins forced on thee, which were not thine own." For as she rose and clung about his neck. Panting and quivering like a hunted fawn, She downward bent her face in guileless shame And told him, with her cheek against his breast. How through those years of captive misery She, like a priestess, had in secret shrine Of wedded heart kept ever bright and pure The vestal flame of her great love for him. 'Twas w-ell ye marked not, Syracusan men. How unlike stone was Dion then, how fell His woman's tears upon her woman's hair. DION 41 'Twas well ye heard not what his heart pulsed out, Without one word, into her tight-pressed ear, Else might ye and your wives have called him weak. When ye had seen that inner self laid bare \\'hich he forsook to serve his native land. ' A strong tree which has braved a thousand storms May totter in the wind which brings its fall, So now methinks my pride is dying down When thus I talk before my funeral Of all the love, hate, duty, self-restraint, Ingratitude and anguish, which have graved And scarred old Dion as he is to-da}^ With all his years gone b}' and all his deeds. ' And now, eternal gods, I come to you Through death, with calm, irrevocable tread. Farewell, life's toilsome warfare. Like a king, • Great gods, receive me into bliss or woe, Whiche'er your land affordeth ; set my throne Among the company of those who strove To mount by inner conquest, not by blood ; And who accept and quaff with equal mind Pleasure or pain, defeat or victory. I care not to be highest, only peer Of all the great who are ingathered there ; If needs my rank be blazoned on my throne. Inscribe it, " Dion, Tyrant of Himself." ' Ha ! ye have found a sword ; 'tis well, for now I shall lie down to sleep as soldier should. Wounded in front, and by a soldier's blade. O Syracuse, I thought to carve a rock Rough and unhewn into a perfect shape ; But, lo ! 'twas only clay wherewith I wrought. 42 DION And every wind and rain did melt you down Into the common mud which tyrants love To smooth into an easy path to power. ' Here, youths, I do not flinch ; behold my breast, Shaggy, like front of lion, streaked with grey. It is your glory to anticipate Time's tardy slaughter. Come, which will be great And first to make himself a name and steep His weakling hands in Dion's royal blood ? Pray you be quick ! I do not fear the pain. But would quit life. Here is my naked heart ; It knocks against the edges of this rib. But yet not faster than its wont. Come, youths, Put the sword here and drive it quickly home, And fix your eyes upon me as I fall. And mark ye well the grandeur of my death. For nothing but the red flood bursting forth. No cry, no groan, no movement of the face Shall tell you that ye have not slain a god. Then draw the blade out, blunted where it met The tempered edge of my self-mastering will. And bear the crimsoned trophy through the streets, And show it to the wondering citizens ; That men may know and tell in aftertimes How Dion lived and died for Syracuse.' THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS 43 THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS The ocean beats its noontide harmonies Upon the sunht Hnes of cragged coast, And a wild rhythm pulses through my brain With pauses and responsive melodies ; And sky and ocean, air and day and night Topple and reel upon my burning blood, Run to and fro, whirl round and round and round, Till, lo ! the cosmic madness breathes a strain Of perfect music through the universe. I hear it with my ears, eyes, hands and feet, I drink it with my breath, my skin sucks in At every fevered pore line threads of sound. Which plunge vibrations of the wind-swept harp Of earth and heaven deep into my soul, Till each sense kindles with a freshened life, And thoughts arise which bring me ease from pain. peace, sweet peace ! I melt and ebb away, On softened rocks outstretch relaxed limbs. With half-shut eyes dcliciously enthralled. What passion, what delight, what ecstasies ! Joy fills my veins with rivers of excess ; 1 rave, I quiver, as with languid eyes I see the hot air dance upon the rocks. And sky, sea, headlands blend in murmurous haze. Now grander, with the organ's bass that rolls The under-world in darkness through despair Of any day-dawn on its inky skies, 44 THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS The music rolls around me, and above From shattered cliffs, from booming caverns' mouths, Pierced by the arrow-screams of frightened gulls. Now strength, subdued, but waxing more and more. Reanimates my limbs ; I feel my power Full as the flooding ocean, or the force Which grinds the glaciers on their boulder feet. My hands could pluck up mountains by the roots, ]\Iy arm could hurl back ocean from the shore To wallow in his frothy bed. What hate ! what scorn ! What limitless imaginations stretch And burst my mind immense ; I stand apart, I am alone, all-glorious, supreme ; My huge form like a shadow sits and broods Upon the globe, gigantic, like the shade Eclipsing moons. With bowed head on my hand In gloom excessive, now, behold, I see Beneath my feet the stream of human life The sad procession of humanity. They come, the sons of Hellas, beautiful, Swift-minded, lithe, with luscious, laughing lips, That suck delight from every tree of life ; Born of the sunshine, winds and sounding sea. They pass, and lo, a mightier nation moves In stern battalions trampling forests down. Cleaving the mountains, paving desert lands With bones that e'en when bleaching face the foe, Welding soft, outskirt nations into iron. An iron hand to grasp and hold the world. Now dust, like smoke, from Asia's central steppes, Darkens the rigid white of mountain peaks. And the plains bristle with the Tartar hordes, Suckled of mares, flat-faced, implacable. THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS 45 Deadly in war, revengeful, treacherous, Brown as the cragged glens of Caucasus. They pass, and nations pass, and like a dream A throne emerges from the western sea, The latest empire of a dying world. E'en as I look, its splendour melts away. And round me, gathering volume, music rolls. Till sinews crack and eyes are blind with power, Till struggles, battles mixed with smoke and blood, Men, nations, life and death, and desolate cries, Melt in the inner pulses in my ears And a wild tempest blows the daylight out. And now I am alone beneath the stars, Alone, in infinite silence. Am I God, That I am so supreme ? Whence is this power ? Cannot my will repeople these waste lands ? I cry aloud, the vault of space resounds, And hollow-sounding echoes, from the stars Rebounding, shake the earth and crinkle up The sea in million furrows. Lo, the stars Now fade, the sun arises, it is day. Half day, half night ; the sun hath lost his strength, I am his equal, nay I am his king ! I rise and move across the earth, the seas Have vanished, and I tread their empty beds. And crush down continents of powdered bones. O great Light, late supreme, what need of thee ? For all are dead, men, nations, life and death, And God is dead and here alone am I — I, with strong hands to pluck thee from thy course, Boundless in passions, will, omnipotent. The impulses concentre in my heart Which erstwhile shook the universe. Sun, 46 THE FRENZY OF PROMETHEUS Acknowledge now thy king, put down thy head Beneath my feet, and hft me higher still To regions that out-top the adoring spheres, And bask in primal thought, too vast to shape Into similitude of earthly things. I would have all, know all. I thirst and pant And hunger for the universe. Now from the earth, Beneath thy rays, O Sun, the steams arise. Sheeting the world's dead face in film of cloud, The voices of the dead. Peace, let me be. Go on thy way, spent power, leave me here To reign in silence, rave and scorn and hate. To glory in my strength, tear down the skies. Trample the crumbling mountains under foot. Laugh at the tingling stars, burn with desire Unconquerable, till the universe Is shattered at the core, its splinters flung By force centrifugal beyond the light. Until the spent stars from their orbits reel. And, hissing down the flaming steeps of space. With voice of fire proclaim me God alone. ' IN VIA MORTIS ' 47 ' IN VIA MORTIS ' YE great company of dead that sleep Under the world's green rind, I come to you, With warm, soft limbs, with eyes that laugh and weep. Heart strong to love, and brain pierced through and through With thoughts whose rapid lightnings make my day— To you my life-stream courses on its way Through margin-shallows of the eternal deep. And naked shaU I come among you, shorn Of all life's vanities, its light and power, Its earthly lusts, its petty hate and scorn. The gifts and gold I treasured for an hour ; And even from this house of flesh laid bare, — A soul transparent as heat-quivering air. Into your fellowship I shall be bom. 1 know you not, great forms of giant kings. Who held dominion in your iron hands. Who toyed with battles and all valorous things. Counting yourselves as gods when on the sands Ye piled the earth's rock fragments in an heap To mark and guard the grandeur of your sleep. And quaffed the cup which death, our mother, brings. 48 ' IN VIA MORTIS ' I know you not, great warriors, who have fought When blood flowed Hke a river at your feet. And each death which your thunderous sword-strokes wrought, Than love's wild rain of kisses was more sweet. I know you not, great minds, who with the pen Have graven on the fiery hearts of men Hopes that breed hope and thoughts that kindle thought. But ye are there, ingathered in the realm Where tongueless spirits speak from heart to heart, And eyeless mariners without a helm Steer down the seas where ever close and part The windless clouds ; and all ye know is this. Ye are not as ye were in pain or bliss. But a strange numbness doth all thought o'erwhelm. And I shall meet you, O ye mighty dead. Come late into your kingdom through the gates Of one fierce anguish whitherto I tread. With heart that now forgets, now meditates Upon the wide fields stretching far away Where the dead wander past the bounds of day, Past life, past death, past every pain and dread. Oft, when the winter sun slopes down to rest Across the long, crisp fields of gilded white. And without sound upon earth's level breast The grey tide floods around of drowning night, A' whisper, like a distant battle's roll Heard over mountains, creeps into my soul, And there I entertain it like a guest. ' IN VIA MORTIS ' 49 It is the echo of your former pains, Great dead, who lie so still beneath the ground ; Its voice is as the night wind after rains, The flight of eagle wings which once were bound, And as I listen in the starlit air My spirit waxeth stronger than despair, Till in your might I break life's prison chains. Then mount I swiftly to your dark abodes. Beyond our mortal ken, where now ye dwell In houses wrought of dreams on dusky roads Which lead in mazes whither none may tell, For they who thread them faint beside the way, And ever as they pass through twilight grey Doubt walks beside them and a terror goads. And there the great dead welcome me and bring Their cups of tasteless pleasure to my mouth ; Here am I little worth, there am I king. For pulsing life still slakes my spirit's drouth. And he who yet doth hold the gift of life Is mightier than the heroes of past strife Who have been mowed in death's great harvesting. And here and there along the silent streets I see some face 1 knew, perchance I loved ; And as I call it each blank wall repeats The uttered name, and swift the form hath moved And heedless of me passes on and on, Till lo, the vision from my sight hath gone Softly as night at touch of dawn retreats. D 50 ' IN VIA MORTIS ' Yet must life's vision fade and I shall come, O mighty dead, into your hidden land. When these eyes see not and these lips are dumb, And all life's flowers slip from this nerveless hand ; Then will ye gather round me like a tide And with your faces the strange scenery hide, While your weird music doth each sense benumb. So would I live this life's brief span, great dead, As ye once lived it, with an iron will, A heart of steel to conquer, a mind fed On richest hopes and purposes, until Well pleased ye set for me a royal throne, And welcome as confederate with your own The soul that goes forth from my dying bed. THOR 51 THOR Here stood the great god Thor, There he planted his foot, And the whole world shook, from the shore To the circle of mountains God put For its cro\\Ti in the days of yore. The waves of the sea uprose, The trees of the wood were uptom, Down from the Alps' crown of snows The glacial avalanche borne Thundered at daylight's close. But the moon-lady curled at his feet. Like a smoke which will not stir When the summer hills swoon with the heat. Till his passion was centred on her. And the shame of his yielding grew sweet. Empty the moon-lady's car, And idly it floated away. Tipped up as she left it afar, Pale in the red death of day, With its nether lip turned to a star. Fearful the face of the god, Stubborn with sense of his power, The seas would roll back at his nod And the thunder-voiced thunder-clouds lower, While the lightning he broke as a rod. 52 THOR Fearful his face was in war, Iron with fixed look of hate, Through the battle-smoke thick and the roar He strode with invincible weight. Till the legions fell back before Thor. But the white thing that curled at his feet Rose up slowly beside him like mist, Indefinite, wan, incomplete, Till she touched the rope veins on his wrist And love pulsed to his heart with a beat. Then he looked, and from under her hair, As from out of a mist grew her eyes. And firmer her flesh was and fair With the tint of the sorrowful skies. Sun-widowed and veiled with thin air. She seemed of each lovable thing The soul that infused it with grace, fler thoughts were the song the birds sing, The glory of flowers was her face And her smile was the smile of the spring. Madly his blood with a bound Leaped from his heart to his brain. Till his thoughts and his senses were drowned In the ache of a longing like pain, In a hush that was louder than sound. Then the god, bending his face, ' Loveliest,' said he, ' if death Mocked me with skulls in this place And age and spent strength and spent breath. Yet would I yield to thy grace ; THOR 53 ' Yet would I circle thee, love, With these arms which are smoking from wars. Though the father up-gathered above. In his anger, each ocean that roars. Each boulder the cataracts shove, ' To hurl at me down from his throne. Though the flood were as wide as the sky, Yea, love, I am thine, all thine own, Strong as the ocean to lie Slave to thy bidding alone.' Folds of her vesture fell soft. As she lifted her eyes up to his : ' Nay, love, for a man speaketh oft In words that are hot as a kiss. But man's love may be donned and be doft.' ' Love would have life for its field — Love would have death for its goal ; And the passion of war must yield To the passion of love in the soul. And the eyes that Love kisses are sealed.' ' Wouldst thou love if the scorn of the world Covered thy head with its briars ; When, soft as an infant curled In its cradle, thou, chained with desires. Lay helpless when flags were unfurled ? ' Fiercely the god's anger broke. Fired with the flames in his blood : ' Who careth what words may be spoke ? For the feet of this love is a flood, And its flngcr the weight of a yoke. 54 THOR ' I bow me, sweet, under its power, I, who have stooped to none ; I bring thee my strength for a dower, And deeds Hke the path of the sun ; I am thine for an age or an hour.' Then the moon-lady softly unwound The girdle of arms interlaced, And the gold of her tresses unbound, Till it fell from her head to her waist, And then from her waist to the ground. ' Love, thou art mine, thou art mine,' Softly she uttered a spell ; ' Under the froth is the wine, Under the ocean is hell. Over the ocean stars shine. ' Lull him, ye winds of the South, Charm him, ye rivers that sing. Flowers be the kiss on his mouth, Let his heart be the heart of the spring, And his passion the hot summer drouth.' Swiftly extending her hands. She made a gold dome of her hair ; Dumb with amazement he stands. Till down, without noise in the air, The moon-car descends to the sands. He taketh her fingers in his. Shorn of his strength and his will ; His brave heart trembles with bliss — Trembles and will not be still, Mad with the wine of her kiss. THOR 55 They mount in the car, and its beams Shoot over the sea and the earth, And clothe in a net-work of dreams The mountains where rivers have birth, And the lakes that are fed by the streams. Swiftly ascending, the car Silvers the clouds in its flight. Piercing the ether afar Up to a bridge out of sight That skirteth the path of a star. One end of the bridge lay on land, The other hung over the deep ; It was fashioned of ropes of grey sand, And cemented together with sleep, With its undergirths formed like a hand. Pleasant the land to the sight, Laden with blossoms and trees. And the grasses to left and to right Waved in the wind like the seas. When the blue day is high in the height. Under the breezy bowers Cushions of moss were laid, And ever through sultry hours Fairy-like fountains played, Cooling the earth with their showers. The horizon was crowned with blue hills. And woodland and meadowland lay Lit with the glory which thrills Souls in some dreamland way. Where the nightingales sing to the rills. 56 THOR Deer and the white kine feed On the foam-fretted shores of the lake, And through many a flowery mead, And from many a forest and brake. The gold birds of paradise speed. The lissome moon-lady led on Up to a bower on a hill With the flowers at its door rained upon By a fountain as constant and still As the bow in the cloud that has gone. ' O love, thou art weary,' she said, ' Who erst was so valiant and strong, And here will I make thee a bed. And here will I sing thee a song To the tune of the leaves overhead. ' And here will thy great strength flow. Melted away in the sweet, Soft touch of ineffable woe, Which is heart of the joy made complete, And the taste of the pleasure we know.' Where the mosses were piled in a heap. He laid his giant form down, And she charmed all his senses to sleep. With her hands on his head like a crown, Till the sound of his breathing was deep. With a noise like a serpent's hiss, The moon-lady bent her head, And she sucked out his breath with a kiss — A kiss that was subtle and dread. Like the sorrow which lurks in a bliss. THOR 57 Then she rose and waved her hands In circles over the sod, And her gold hair wove in strands Round the limbs of the sleeping god, With the strength of adamant bands. She opened the great clenched fist, And softly the lady withdrew, Was it only a serpent that hissed ? For her face is transparent as dew, And her garments are thin as the mist. Spell-bound on the dreamland floor. Chained with the golden hair, Weak as a babe lay Thor, While the fountain played soft in the air, And the nightingales sang evermore. Like a babe in its cradle curled, He was chained with his chain of desires. Though they needed his arm in the world. For the battle-strife raged and its fires. And the flags of the gods were unfurled. Then Odin, the father of Heaven, Called a council of gods on high. To each was a white cloud given At the foot of his throne in the sky, And the steps of his throne were seven. ' Children,' the father cried, ' Lost is the great god Thor, Lost is the sword at his side. Lost is his arm in the war. And the fury which all things defied. 58 THOR * In the heart of a dreamland bower, Sleepeth he under a spell, For he yielded his strength for an hour. And under the meshes of Hell He is chained by invincible power. ' None may the meshes unbind ; Strength must return to his will. And himself must unshackle his mind From the dreams he is dreaming still, In the moon-lady's tresses entwined. ' Over the mountains the road. Dismal and drear to return, Face it he must with his load. Though the underbrakes crackle and bum, Though the serpent-bites blister and goad. ' Not a mere shadow is sin. Clinging like wine to the lip, To be wiped from the mouth and the chin After man taketh a sip ; But a poison that lurketh within. ' The forces that hold back the sea, That grapple the earth from beneath, Are not older than those which decree The marriage of sin unto death In the sinner, whoever he be. ' Who of our numbers will go Up to the death-tainted land, Braving the dangers, and so Reaching the heart and the hand And the form of the god lying low ? ' THOR 59 ' Sire,' answered Balder the fair, ' Rugged the journey and long. Manifold dangers are there, But my heart and my arms are strong, And my soul is as pure as the air. ' I will go, for we need him in war, And without him we struggle and die ; I will put on the armour he bore And gird on his sword to my thigh ; I will sit by and say, " I am Thor." ' Perchance when he opens his eyes. Shorn of his armour of plate. Smitten with rage and surprise. Burning with anger and hate, He will burst from the bed where he lies. ' Swift as the kiss of the fire, Knowledge shall flash to his brain. And the thought of his past self inspire His spirit with valour again. Till he shatter the bonds of desire.' So Balder, the fairest of all. And purest of gods by the throne, Went from the heavenly hall Into the darkness alone, To loosen the god from his thrall. Black was the charger he rode, Winged, and its eye-balls of fire ; From mountain to mountain it trode. Spurning the valleys as mire. Till it sprang into air with its load. 6o THOR Then swift, with its neck side-curled, Half hid in the smoke of its breath, Upward it bounded, and hurled Volleys and splinters of death From the fire of its hoofs on the world. The moon-lady leaned from her car And beheld the fierce course of the god, For, as though with the birth of a star, A fire track as straight as a rod Burnt in the heavens afar. Then she trembled and sickened with fear, Till her face grew as white as the mist When at day-dawn the stars disappear, And her body did coil and untwist Like a serpent's folds caught in a weir. Her heart was a fire that was spent. Her lips could not utter a charm, And she cowered from his sight as he went, While Balder flew by without harm, 'Neath the shield of a pure intent. He came to the moon-lady's bower, And girded the sword to his thigh, And put on the cincture of power. Unbound from the god lying by. Nor waited a day nor an hour ; For, startled, the sleeper awoke, Black-visaged, like storm on the skies ; But Balder sat upright, nor spoke. Till the flames darted out of Thor's eyes. And the passionate silence he broke. THOR 6i ' Who is it, when dreaming is o'er, Mocks me with helm hke to mine, Ungirding the armour I bore, From the sweet silken nets that entwine ? ' Quoth Balder, ' Behold ! I am Thor. * I am he that was " Thunderer " called, And my fame is as wide as the world ; At my anger the rocks were appalled. And the waves of the sea were up-curled. But now I am weak and enthralled. ' The battle is fierce on the earth, While I sit here idle and still ; Unfulfilled are the hopes of my birth, For the strength of the mind is the will. And the will is more potent than girth. ' The foes of the gods wax bold, And they mock at the armies of heaven ; At their banquets the story is told — " A weak woman's heart hath been given To Thor, the avenger of old." ' And the wives as they sit by the cot. Sing, " Sleep, for the god cannot come ; Sleep, the avenger is not ; Hush, let his praises be dumb ; Hush, let his name be forgot." ' Then the god, smitten with pain. Shamed and stung to the heart. Knowing a god's voice again, Rending his fetters apart, Sprang from the moon-lady's chain. 62 THOR Instantly vanished in night Fountains and meadows and streams, Never a ghmmer of Hght Lit up the palace of dreams, As the god made his way, without sight, Back to the heavenly shore, Over mountain and wild ravine. Morasses, and seas that roar, Till the portals of heaven were seen And he stood in Valhalla once more. THE FEUD 63 THE FEUD ' I HEAR a cry from the Sansard cave, O mother, will no one hearken ? A cry of the lost, will no one save ? A cry of the dead, though the oceans rave, And the scream of a gull as he wheels o'er a grave, \\'hile the shadows darken and darken.' ' Oh, hush thee, child, for the night is wet, And the cloud-caves split asunder, With lightning in a jagged fret. Like the gleam of a salmon in the net. When the rocks are rich in the red sunset, And the stream rolls down in thunder.' ' Mother, O mother, a pain at my heart, A pang like the pang of dying.' ' Oh, hush thee, child, for the wild birds dart Up and down, and close and part. Wheeling round where the black cliffs start, And the foam at their feet is flying.' ' O mother, a strife like the black clouds' strife, And a peace that cometh after.' ' Hush, child, for peace is the end of life, And the heart of a maiden finds peace as a wife, But the sky and the cliffs and the ocean are rife With the storm and thunder's laughter.' 64 THE FEUD ' Come in, my sons, come in and rest, For the shadows darken and darken, And your sister is pale as the white swan's breast, And her eyes are fixed and her lips are pressed In the death of a name ye might have guessed. Had ye twain been here to hearken.' ' Hush, mother, a corpse lies on the sand, And the spray is round it driven. It lies on its face, and one white hand Points through the mist on the belt of strand To where the cliffs of Sansard stand, And the ocean's strength is riven.' ' Was it God, my sons, who laid him there ? Or the sea that left him sleeping ? ' ' Nay, mother, our dirks where his heart was bare, As swift as the rain through the teeth of the air ; And the foam-fingers play in the Saxon's hair. While the tides are round him creeping.' ' Oh, curses on you, hand and head, Like the rains in this wild weather. The guilt of blood is swift and dread. Your sister's face is cold and dead. Ye may not part whom God would wed And love hath knit together.' DAWN 6=; DAWN The immortal spirit hath no bars To circumscribe its dwelHng place ; My soul hath pastured with the stars Upon the meadow-lands of space. My mind and ear at times have caught, From realms beyond our mortal reach, The utterance of Eternal Thought Of which all nature is the speech. And high above the seas and lands, On peaks just tipped with morning light, My dauntless spirit mutely stands With eagle wings outspread for flight. 66 A REVERIE A REVERIE TENDER love of long ago, O buried love, so near me still, On tides of thought that ebb and flow, Beyond the empire of the will ; To-night with mingled joy and pain 1 fold thee to my heart again. And down the meadows, dear, we stray. And under woods still clothed in green. Though many Springs have passed away And many harvests there have been. Since through the youth-enchanted land We wandered idly hand in hand. Then every brook was loud with song. And every tree was stirred with love, And every breeze that passed along Was like the breath of God above ; — And now to-night we go the ways We went in those sweet summer days. Dear love, thy dark and earnest eyes Look up as tender as of yore. And, purer than the evening skies. Thy cheeks have still the rose they wore ; I — I have changed, but thou art fair And fresh as in life's morning air. A REVERIE 67 What little hands these were to chain So many years a wayward heart ; How slight a girlish form to reign As queen upon a throne apart In a man's thought, through hopes and fears, And all the changes of the years. Dear girl, behold, thy boy is now A man and grown to middle age ; The lines are deep upon his brow. His heart hath been grief's hermitage ; But hidden where no eye can see, His boyhood's love still lives for thee, — Still blooms above thy grave to-day, Where death hath harvested the land. Though such long years have passed away Since down the meadows, hand in hand. We went with hearts too full to know How deep their love was long ago. 68 OLD LETTERS OLD LETTERS The house was silent, and the hght Was fading from the western glow ; I read, till tears had dimmed my sight, Some letters written long ago. The voices that have passed away, The faces that have turned to mould, Were round me in the room to-day. And laughed and chatted as of old. The thoughts that youth was wont to think. The hopes now dead for evermore, Came from the lines of faded ink, As sweet and earnest as of yore. I laid the letters by and dreamed The dear, dead past to life again ; The present and its purpose seemed A fading vision full of pain. Then, with a sudden shout of glee. The children burst into the room. Their little faces were to me As sunrise in the cloud of gloom. The world was full of meaning still. For love will live though loved ones die ; I turned upon life's darkened hill And gloried in the morning sky. THE WAYSIDE CROSS 69 THE WAYSIDE CROSS A WAYSIDE cross at set of day Unto my spirit thus did say — ' O soul, my branching arms you see Point four ways to infinity. ' One points to infinite above, To show the height of heavenly love. ' Two point to infinite width, which shows That heavenly love no limit knows. ' One points to infinite beneath, To show God's love is under death. ' The four arms join, an emblem sweet That in God's heart all loves will meet.' I thanked the cross as I turned away For such sweet thoughts in the twilight grey. 1888. 70 A BIRTHDAY A BIRTHDAY The three Fates sat in a house of birth, Ah, welladay ; ah, welladay ; Their eyes were bright, but not with mirth — They have no love for the sons of earth — And their hps were parched and grey. Their grey locks hung from brow to chin. Ah, welladay ; ah, welladay ; One held the distaff, and one did spin, And one held shears in her fingers thin ; Three silent hags were they. We saw not the thread which the sisters spun, Ah, welladay ; ah, welladay ; Nor whether in white or in black begun. But on her with the shears, that elder one, Our eyes were fixed alway. A thread, I ween, of tangled years. Ah, welladay ; ah, welladay ; God stay her hand that holds the shears ; Our hopes are stronger than our fears, — God spare him, come what may. April 1, 1888. IN THE CHURCHYARD 71 IN THE CHURCHYARD As now my feet are straying Where all the dead are lying, O trees, what are ye saying That sets my soul a-sighing ? Your sound is as the weeping Of one that dreads the morrow, Or sob of sad heart sleeping For fulness of its sorrow. Methinks your rootlets, groping Beneath the dark earth's layers. Have found the doubt and hoping, The blasphemies and prayers. Of hearts that here are feeding The worm ; and now, in pity. Ye storm with interceding The floor of God's great city. 72 THE CRIPPLE THE CRIPPLE I MET once, in a country lane, A little cripple, pale and thin, Who from my presence sought again The shadows she had hidden in. Her wasted cheeks the sunset skies Had hallowed with their fading glow ; And in her large and lustrous eyes There dwelt a child's unuttered woe. She crept into the autumn wood, The parted bushes closed behind ; Poor little heart, I understood The shameless shame that filled her mind. I understood, and loved her well For one sad face I loved of yore, — And down the lane the dead leaves fell. Like dreams that pass for evermore. AT THE CROSS ROADS 73 AT THE CROSS ROADS Here on life's Cross Roads, friend, our ways now sever, And each must journey 'neath an altered sky. Yet in the years to come our hearts will never Forget the glad hours of the days gone by. Oft have we sat before the bright logs blazing On the wide hearth, and closed the winter's day ; Oft in the meadows, where the cows were grazing, Have watched the summer sunsets die away. Oft have we sped, girt with the engine's thunder, Down the bright track into the golden dawn ; Oft through dark forests when the moon, in wonder, Peered 'neath the trees at the long smoke outdrawn. And now when autumn fields are filled with beauty, And while the breath of harvest is so sweet, We who have heard afar the voice of duty, Shake hands and part where these two roadways meet. Dear brother heart, we leave farewells unspoken, We shall not change nor can our love forget, For on life's sky, by sun and shadow broken, True friendship is a star that does not set. 74 ANDANTE ANDANTE The days and weeks are going, love, The years roll on apace. And the hand of time is showing, love, In the care-lines on thy face ; But the tie that bound our hearts, love. In the morning's golden haze, Is a tie that never parts, love, With the passing of the days. For though Death's arm be strong, love, Our love its light will shed. And like a glorious song, love. Will live when Death is dead. SORROW'S WAKING 75 SORROW'S WAKING Once a maiden, Heavy-laden, Sought to borrow Sleep from sorrow. Sweet the taking. But the waking In the numbness And the dumbness Of the day-dawn, With the grey lawn Softly plaining In the raining, And the meadows Hid in shadows. Was more dreary Than the weary Mounds which sever Hearts for ever. Where Death's reaping Leaves man sleeping In God's keeping. 76 A WAIF A WAIF This place is holy, Christ has been In it to-day ; The little girl behind this screen Has passed away. Her soul has sought the boundless deep Beyond these skies. Then fold her wasted hands to sleep, And close her eyes. No more their glazing pupils see This crowded ward ; She walks now in eternity Beside her Lord. Put back the dark hair from her brow. And smooth her cheek ; Those white lips would be praying now If they could speak. Make straight each crippled limb again, And raise her head ; It once would make her cry with pain To touch her bed. A WAIF 77 The winter shadows as they fall Begin to hide The little texts upon the wall That were her pride. But where she wanders far away The hills are bright ; She rests, our little waif and stray. With God to-night. 78 A SISTER OF CHARITY A SISTER OF CHARITY She made a nunnery of her life, Plain duties hedged it round, No echoes of the outer strife Could reach its hallowed ground. Her rule was simple as her creed, She tried to do each day Some act of kindness that might speed A sad soul on its way. She had no wealth, and yet she made So many rich at heart ; Her lot was hidden, yet she played No inconspicuous part. Some wondered men had passed her by, Some said she would not wed, I think the secret truth must lie Long buried with the dead. That cheery smile, that gentle touch. That heart so free from stain. Could have no other source but such As lies in conquered pain. All living creatures loved her well, And blessed the ground she trod ; The pencillings in her Bible tell Her communing with God, A SISTER OF CHARITY 79 And when the call came suddenly, And sleep preceded death, There was no struggle we could see, No hard and laboured breath. Gently as dawn the end drew nigh ; Her life had been so sweet, I think she did not need to die To reach the Master's feet. 8o HIS PARTING HIS PARTING They bore the little dying boy Through his beloved wood, The sweet song-sparrows hushed their joy, The pine trees silent stood. The tiny ripples from the lake Crept noiseless down the shore, And even the brook seemed for his sake Less boisterous than before. The sunbeams never blinked their eyes, Quite still were light and shade. While here and there the droning flies A solemn music made. 'Twas plain his woodland friends had heard, And nature all around Mourned, as when some sweet singing bird Has fallen to the ground. But he, our little dying boy, Forgetting all his pain, Passed prattling by in childish joy And never came again. LITTLE FRIEND'S ' GRAVE 81 ' LITTLE FRIEND'S ' GRAVE Build a house for ' Little Friend,' Underneath the sunniest grass, In a place where birds' songs blend On the breezes as they pass. Dig it not with sorrow's spade, Use no sharp-edged tools of pain, Nothing there must cast a shade. Nothing there must leave a stain. Build the walls of hope and joy, Gladsome as the flowers and trees, Else the little merry boy Will not rest in it at ease. Bring no torch or other light, As though darkness could be there. For a soul so pure and bright Will give radiance everywhere. Build the roof of faith and love. Pillared on foundations deep, That the rain of tears above May not mar his happy sleep. Make no windows, as though he Needed peep-holes to the skies. For the vast Eternity Now is open to his eyes. V 82 ' LITTLE FRIEND'S ' GRAVE Build no staircase for his feet, Make no door-way in the wall, For he treads the golden street Where the Christ is all in all. Only let the cross be set Upright in the hallowed ground, Lest the stricken heart forget Where the cure of grief is found. MY LITTLE SON 83 MY LITTLE SON My little son, my little son, he calls to me for ever Across the gulfs and through the mists which shroud him from my sight ; I hear him in the noonday, in the midst of all the turmoil, I hear him, oh, so plainl}^ in the silence of the night. My little son, my little son, I see in clearest vision The merry face, the deep, clear eyes, the crown of golden hair. But these, ah, these are sleeping where the hillside glows with sunset. And the little boy, my darling that I loved so, is not there. My little son, my little son, there are starry paths at night-time, Above the swaying tree-tops where the birds are fast asleep ; Does he wander up and down them with the winds in endless play-time ? Does he read in sudden manhood all the wonders of the deep ? My little son, my little son, he hovers ever near me, I meet him in the garden walks, he speaks in wind and rain ; He comes and nestles by me on my pillow in tlie darkness, Till the golden hands of sunrise draw him back to God again.- 84 ANNIVERSARY ANNIVERSARY The weary weeks come round again — Come round again with frost and cold, With falhng leaves and dripping rain And gleams of sun on autumn gold. Through windows in the House of Time I see great forces come and go, I know the issues are sublime, The trumpet-call to arms, I know. But still my eyes go straining far, Above the tumult and the noise, To where, beyond the furthest star. My darling plays among his toys. I hear the laughter from his heart, I see the sunshine in his eyes. And then I waken with a start And face once more the hollow skies. October 13, 1908. GOD'S YOUTH 8: THROUGH THE GATES OF TIME Into the Infinite Pass we for ever. Knowing the Light of Light Faileth us never. GOD'S YOUTH In the star-depths of children's eyes. Where dwells the light of truth, I see, reflected from the skies, God's own eternal youth. 86 ON AN OLD VENETIAN PORTRAIT ON AN OLD VENETIAN PORTRAIT The features loom out of the darkness As brown as an ancient scroll, But the eyes gleam on with the fire that shone In the dead man's living soul. He is clad in a cardinal's mantle, And he wears the cap of state. But his lip is curled in a sneer at the world, And his glance is full of hate. Old age has just touched with its winter The hair on his lip and chin. He stooped, no doubt, as he walked about. And the blood in his veins was thin. His date and his title I know not. But I know that the man is there, As cruel and cold as in days of old, When he schemed for the Pontiff's chair. He never could get into Heaven, Though his lands were all given to pay For prayers to be said on behalf of the dead From now till the judgment day. His palace, his statues, and pictures Were Heaven, at least for a time, And now he is, 'Where? ' — why an ornament there On my wall, and I think him sublime. ON AN OLD VENETIAN PORTRAIT 87 For the gold of another sunset Falls over him even now, And it deepens the red of the cap on his head, And it brings out the hnes on his brow. The ages have died into silence, And men have forgotten his tomb, But he still sits there in his cardinal's chair. And he watches me now in the gloom. 88 A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC Naked and shaggy, they herded at eve by the sound of the seas, When the sky and the ocean were red as with blood from the battles of God, And the wind like a monster sped forth with its feet on the rocks and the trees. And the sands of the desert blew over the wastes of the drought-smitten sod. Here, mad with the torments of hunger, despairing they sank to their rest, Some crouching alone in their anguish, some gath- ered in groups on the beach ; And with tears almost human the mother looked down at the babe on her breast. And her pain was the germ of our love, and her cry was the root of our speech. Then a cloud from the sunset arose, like a cormorant gorged with its prey. And extended its wings on the sky till it smothered the stars in its gloom. And ever the famine-worn faces were wet with the wind-carried spray, And dimly the voice of the deep to their ears was a portent of doom. A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC 89 And the dawn that rose up on the morrow, apparelled in gold like a priest, Through the smoke of the incense of morning, looked down on a vision of death ; For the vultures were gathered together and circled with joy to their feast On hearts that had ceased from their sorrow, and lips that had yielded their breath. Then the ages went by like a dream, and the shore- line emerged from the deep, And the stars as they watched through the years saw a change on the face of the earth ; For over the blanket of sand that had covered the dead in their sleep Great forests grew up with their green, and the sources of rivers had birth. And here in the after-times man, the white-faced and smooth-handed, came by, And he built him a city to dwell in and temples of prayer to his God ; He filled it with music and beauty, his spirit aspired to the sky. While the dead by whose pain it was fashioned lay under the ground that he trod. He wrenched from great Nature her secrets, the stars in their courses he named, He weighed them and measured their orbits ; he harnessed the horses of steam ; He captured the lightnings of heaven, the waves of the ocean he tamed, — And ever the wonder amazed him as ono lliat awakes from a dream. 90 A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC But under the streets and the markets, the banks and the temples of prayer, Where humanity laboured and plotted, or loved with an instinct divine, Deep down in the silence and gloom of the earth that had shrouded them there. Were the fossil remains of a skull and the bones of what once was a spine. Enfolded in darkness for ever, untouched by the changes above, And mingled as clay with the clay which the hands of the ages had brought. Were the hearts in whose furnace of anguish was smelted the gold of our love. And the brains from whose twilight of instinct has risen the dawn of our thought. But the law, that was victor of old with its heel on the neck of the brute. Still tramples our hearts in the darkness, still grinds down our face in the dust ; We are sown in corruption and anguish — whose fingers will gather the fruit ? Our life is but lent for a season — for whom do we hold it in trust ? In the vault of the sky overhead, in the gulfs that lie under our feet. The wheels of the universe turn, and the laws of the universe blend ; The pulse of our life is in tune with the rhythm of forces that beat In the surf of the furthest star's sea, and are spent and regathered to spend. A DREAM OF THE PREHISTORIC 91 Yet we trust in the will of the Being whose fingers have spangled the night With the dust of a myriad worlds, and who speaks in the thunders of space ; Though we see not the start or the finish, though vainly we cry for the light, Let us mount in the glory of manhood and meet the God-Man face to face. 92 KNOWLEDGE KNOWLEDGE They were islanders, our fathers were, And they watched the encircHng seas, And their hearts drank in the ceaseless stir, And the freedom of the breeze ; Till they chafed at their narrow bounds And longed for the sweep of the main. And they fretted and fumed like hounds Held in within sight of the plain And the play And the prey. So they built them ships of wood, and sailed To many an unknown coast ; They braved the storm and battles hailed. And danger they loved most ; Till the tiny ships of wood Grew powerful on the globe. And the new-found lands for good They wrapped in a wondrous robe Of bold design, Our brave ensign. And islanders yet in a way are we. Our knowledge is still confined. And we hear the roar of encircling sea. To be crossed in the ship of the mind ; KNOWLEDGE 93 And we dream of lands afar. Unknown, unconquered yet, And we chafe at the bounds there are, And our spirits fume and fret For the prize Of the wise. But we '11 never do aught, I know, unless We are brave as our sires of old. And face like them the bitterness Of the battle and storm and cold ; Unless we boldly stand, When men would hold us back, With the tiller in our hand. And our eyes to the shining track Of what may be Beyond the sea. There are rocks out there in that wide, wide sea, 'Neath many a darkling stream. And souls that once sailed out bold and free Have been carried away in a dream ; For they never came back again — On the deep the ships were lost ; But in spite of the danger and pain. The ocean has still to be crossed, And none can this do But the brave and the true. 1887. 94 ' POETAE SILVARUM ' ' POETAE SILVARUM ' SINGING birds, O singing birds, ye sing in field and sky The simple songs of love and joy ye sang in days gone by ; 1 hear you in the meadows now and up the mountain stream, And as I listen to your voice I dream an old-world dream. O singing birds, O singing birds, ye sang in ancient Greece Ere Paris found the fatal fruit, or Jason sought the fleece ; And from the Attic mountain tops ye saw the dawn uprise, Her feet upon the golden sea and wonder in her eyes. Ye heard the shepherd pipe at dawn, and piped again with him Until the flocks came winding out where forest glades were dim ; Ye sang in dewy dell and woke the wild-flower from its dream. And watched the fauns and satyrs dance beside the woodland stream. 'POETAE SILVARUM' 95 Ye sang your songs at noonday when Athenian crews went down Between the dusty walls that joined Peiraeus with the town, Until across the sparkling deep the triremes sailed away, And up Poseidon's altar steps the women went to pray. Ye sang your songs at eventide when on the sacred hill The light was slowly dying down and mists were sleeping still ; While two by two the maidens went, with lilies in their hand. And asked each other of the love they could not understand. And in the night, when stars looked down and herds were gathered in. And little brooks with tinkling voice made music clear and thin, At intervals your note again would thrill the forest's rest, When dreamland fancies woke your joy or breezes stirred your nest. O singing birds, O singing birds, who pipe in shade and sun, Ye fill the w(;rld with gladness still, ye bind us all in one ; Your songs are of untroubled days, of mornings glad and free. And merry rivers leaping down the mountains to the sea. 96 STELLA O singing birds, O singing birds, the ages pass away, The world is growing old, and we grow older day by day; Pour out your deathless songs again to men of every tongue, And wake the music in man's heart that keeps the old world young. STELLA (From the Greek anthology) Dear Love, thou gazest at the starlit skies. Thou who art star to me ; Would I were heaven with all its myriad eyes Gazing on thee. A SONG OF TRIUMPH 97 A SONG OF TRIUMPH Ye tempests that sweep o'er the deep, heavy-browed with the cloud of the rain, Assemble in wonder with thunder and bellowing voice of the main. With the roar that comes forth from the North when the ice-peaks roll down to the sea, And the dream of the gleaming white silence is hoarse with waves' laughter and glee ; — Yea, gather, ye tempests, on wings, with the strings of God's harp in your hands, And your voices upraise in the praise of the Lord of the seas and the lands. Sing the triumph of Man, who began in the caves where the waves lay asleep. In a cradle made green by the sheen of the sunlight that smote on the deep, When the ages were young and the tongue of the universe sounded its praise, Over the dismal, abysmal, dark voids where God went on His ways To crown His creations with nations of flowering and animate life, — Implanting a germ in the worm that would grow to His image through strife. G 98 A SONG OF TRIUMPH The jungles that spread on the bed of the plain, where the rain and the snow Came down from the mountains a river, to shiver in torrents below. Were alight with the bright-coloured snakes and the tigers that lurked for their prey, While the bird that was heard in the boughs had a plumage more splendid than day. But the lord at w^hose word all were humbled was Man who in majesty came ; — Immortal as God and who trod with his body erect as a flame. Let the praise of Man's form by the storm be out- rolled to the gold of the West, To the edge of the ledge of the clouds where the sun marches down to his rest. For out of the rout of fierce famine, of warfare and hunger and strain, Man's body was fashioned and passioned in frenzy of fury and pain. He goes with his face upon space, like a god he is girded with might, His desire is the fire of a star that illumines a limitless night. His love is above and beneath him, a mountain and fountain of fire ; In his blood is the flood of the tiger and claws of its hate and desire ; In his thought is the speed of the steed as it courses untrammelled and free. With its sinews astrain on the plain where the winds are as wide as the sea ; A SONG OF TRIUMPH 99 But his soul is the roll of the ocean that murmurs in darkness and day, A part of the heart of creation that lives while the ages decay. It mounts upon wings through the rings of the night that is bright with the stars, Till at length in its strength it has broken the chains of the flesh and its bars, And waits for the hush and the flush of the dawn of which God is the sun ; — The dawn that will rise in the skies when the night of our warfare is done ; When Man shall behold, in the gold of the firmament passing in heat, The face of the Proved and Beloved who descends with the stars at His feet. Then the past shall be cast like the sand that a hand may throw out to the sea. Shall be cast out of sight into night, and our manhood, resplendent and free, Shall wander in dreams by the streams where the waters are silent as sleep, Or winged on God's errands shall soar through the roar of the fathomless deep, When the hghtning is brightening our course and the thunder-clouds roll in our face, — For the soul that is pure shall endure when the planets have crumbled in space. Ye tempests that sweep from the deep which the night .'ind the light overspan, 100 A SONG OF TRIUMPH Assemble in splendour and render the praise of magnificent Man ; In his hands are the sands of the ages, and gold of unperishing youth. On his brow, even now, is the shining of wisdom and justice and truth ; His dower was the power to prevail, on the lion and dragon he trod, His birth was of earth but he mounts to a throne in the bosom of God. THE SPRITE loi THE SPRITE A LITTLE sprite sat on a moonbeam, When the night was waning away, And over the world to the eastward Spread the first faint flush of the day. The moonbeam was cold and sUppery, And a fat little fairy was he ; Around him the white clouds were sleeping, And under him slumbered the sea. Then the old moon looked out of her left eye. And laughed when she thought of the fun. For she knew that the moonbeam he sat on Would soon melt away in the sun ; So she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. And winked at a bright httle star — The moon was remarkably knowing, As old people always are. ' Great Madam,' then answered the fairy, ' No doubt you are mightily wise, And know probably more than another Of the ins and the outs of the skies. But to think that we don't in our own way An interest in sky-things take. Is a common and fatal blunder That sometimes you great ones make. 102 THE SPRITE ' For I 've looked up from under the heather. And watched you night after night, And marked your silent motion, And the fall of your silvery light. I have seen you grow larger and larger, I have watched you fade away ; I have seen you turn pale as a snowdrop At the sudden approach of day. ' So don't think for a moment, great Madam, Though a poor little body I be, That I haven't my senses about me. Or am going to drop into the sea. I have had what you only could give me — A pleasant night ride in the sky ; But a new power arises to eastward. So now, useless old lady, good-bye.' He whistled a low, sweet whistle. And up from the earth so dark. With its wings bespangled with dewdrops, There bounded a merry lark. He 's mounted the tiny singer. And soared through the heavens away. With his face all aglow in the morning, And a song for the rising day. 1887 THE POET'S SONG 103 THE POET'S SONG I HID in the world and sang, And I sang so loud and long That all the ages rang With the music of my song. I sang of the earth and sky, I sang of the whispering seas, I sang of the mountains high, And I sang of the flowers and trees ; I sang of the early spring, I sang of the dawning day, I sang, for I had to sing As the young lambs have to play. Till heaven and earth were ringing, And all the people heard, And they said, ' We love his singing. For his song is the song of the bird.' 188: 104 ESTRANGEMENT ESTRANGEMENT Do you remember how, one autumn night, We sat upon the rocks and watched the sea In dreamlike silence while the moonlight fell On you and me ? How, as we lingered musing, side by side, A cold, white mist crept down and hid the sea And dimmed the moon, and how the air grew chill Round you and me ? The mist and chill of that drear autumn night. When we sat silent looking on the sea , I often think has never passed away From you and me. 1882. SONG'S ETERNITY 105 SONG'S ETERNITY Little bird on dewy wing In the dawn of day, All the pretty songs you sing Pass away. For although man's heart is stirred By your happy voice, You can only sing one word, — ' Rejoice,' ' Rejoice.' But the music poets make Is a deathless strain, For they do from sorrow take, And from pain, Such a sweetness as imparts Joy that never dies, — And their songs live in men's hearts Beyond the skies. io6 LOVE SLIGHTED LOVE SLIGHTED Love built a chamber in my heart, A daintier ne'er was seen ; 'Twas filled with books and gems of art And all that makes a lover's part True homage to his queen. The ceiling was of silver bright That showed the floor below ; The walls were hung with silk so white That e'en the mirror was to sight A slope of driven snow. Then Love threw open wide the door. And sang, as in a dream, A song as sweet as bird can pour Above the sunlight-marbled floor Of some clear forest stream. He sang of youth that ne'er grows old, Of flowers that ne'er decay, Of wine whose sweetness is not told, Of honour bright, and courage bold. And faith more fair than they. And many a maiden passed me by. Though some would hear and start, But thought the singing was so high It came from somewhere in the sky. And not from my poor heart. LOVE SLIGHTED 107 So years have come and years have flown Adown the sunset hill, But Love still sits and sings alone, And, though his voice has sweeter grown, My heart is empty still. io8 LOST LOVE LOST LOVE Love has gone a-straying, Like a cloud in May, Down the silent wind-ways, Past the bounds of day. When will he return again ? When will his fire bum again ? I am broken-hearted Since sweet Love departed. Love has gone a-straying — Call him back to me, Up the silent wind-ways, Over land and sea. Tell him he must bring again Joys that I can sing again ; I am broken-hearted Since sweet Love departed. Love has gone a-straying, Foolish, foolish Love, Seeking up the wind-ways For the stars above ; Tell him here are flowers as fair, Tell him here are hours as rare, While the earth is dressed in spring And the merry birds do sing, LOST LOVE 109 And the brooks and rivers run Laughing at the staid old sun ; Call Love home again, Bid him not roam again, — I am broken-hearted Since sweet Love departed. no BURIED LOVE BURIED LOVE Love hath built himself a house Underneath the snow, Where, amid the winter's storm. He can keep his body warm. When the winds do blow. It is lined with leaves that fell Half a year ago, And around it linger yet Odours of spring violet, Underneath the snow. If you come and try to peep Into what 's below. Laughing loud, as if in fun. Love jumps up and makes you run. Pelting you with snow. What does Love do night and day ? Would you like to know ? In the dark he sits and weeps For a little maid that sleeps — Sleeps beneath the snow. And when Spring shall come again And the warm winds blow. Tears have made his sight so dim That the world will seem to him Buried still in snow. MUTE LOVE III MUTE LOVE Love was wanting songs to sing On a golden day, When the earth was bright with Spring And the flowers of May. So he lay beside the brink Of a quiet stream, Where the cattle go to drink And the clouds to dream. Sunbeams lit the woods around. Breezes fanned his cheek, And the blossoms on the ground Almost seemed to speak. In the branches overhead Robin sang his love, And the tender things he said Filled the skies above. Flitting through the scented air Where the stream was bright. Little flies went here and there, Crazy with delight. But though all were bright and glad, Silent was Love's lute. For such happiness he had That his lips were mute. 112 MUTE LOVE So he lay there in the grass By the quiet stream, And he watched the cattle pass And the shadows dream. Till when evening, dumb and grey. Closed the buds that had uncurled. Full of song he stole away Down the music of the world. LOVE'S FOOTPRINTS 113 LOVE'S FOOTPRINTS Love once wandered on the shore Where these lonely mountains stand, And the surf for evermore Whitens down the waste of sand. Here are footprints ! see, he went By the sea's edge in his play ; Here perchance his bow was bent. And his target was the spray. There he stooped and wrote his name — Straggling letters by the tide — And when sunset bursts in flame Over shore and mountain-side. Brightly will the letters glow, Golden will those footprints be, Made by young Love long ago As he wandered by the sea. II 114 LOVELORN LOVELORN Love met a swain that drove his load. When evening shades were falhng, And in the trees above the road The rooks were loudly calling. He sauntered by his lumbering cart, A simple swain and burly, 111 formed to play a lover's part, His manners coarse and surly. He did not see the autumn gold That strewed the leafy alley, He cared not for the tints untold That lit the sunset valley. His buskins were all grey with dust, His smock was black and gritty ; Though in his mouth a pipe was thrust, He hummed a coimtry ditty. ' Good morrow, gentle sir,' said Love, ' I fear you '11 count me stupid,' (The rooks laughed in the trees above — They knew the voice of Cupid). ' I 've lost my way, good sir, to-night. And don't know where to find it ; You see that hill that fades from sight. My house lies just behind it. LOVELORN 115 ' O, good sir, as your heart is true. Take pity on my sorrow ; Let me to-night go home with you. And I will leave to-morrow.' The swain, content a friend to see, Though wishing he were older, ' Get up, my little man,' quoth he. And perched him on his shoulder. Ah me ! how sweet that evening walk, With young Love softly smiling Upon his arm, and with fair talk The weary hours beguiling. Poor swain, he saw with wondering eyes The valley filled with splendour, And in the love-light of the skies His heart grew soft and tender. But on the morrow Love had gone. Since then he comes back never ; The simple heart he rested on Now aches and aches for ever. ii6 TO A FLY IN WINTER TO A FLY IN WINTER Good day, little Fly, Here we are — you and I, The children of summer ; Warm your wings at the fire, Take what food you desire. Your lordship I '11 hire As my fifer and drummer. Outside the winds blow. And the fast falling snow From the gables is drifting ; The clouds seem to me Like an overturned sea Lashing field, fence, and tree, Never breaking or lifting. Tune up, Httle Friend, Tell me winter will end, And the spring-time is coming ; When the buds with surprise Will rub their young eyes And look up to the skies. At thy fifing and drumming. Sing me carols of May, And of June and the hay. With the sweet-smelling clover ; TO A FLY IN WINTER 117 Of the soft winds that creep Round my bed as I sleep, When the dawn hghts the deep, And the long night is over. Sing me songs of the brook Where the little fish look Up, with e3^es fuU of wonder. At the wind-shaken screen Of the willows that lean Over pools that are green As the boughs they sleep under. Tune up, little Friend, For the winter wiU end, — Be my fifer and drummer ; And thy one song repeat. Till its buzz and the heat Give my dreaming the sweet Taste of meadows and summer. ii8 SUNRISE SUNRISE RISING Sun, so fair and gay, What are you bringing me, I pray. Of sorrow or of joy to-day ? You look as if you meant to please. Reclining in your gorgeous ease Behind the bare-branched apple-trees. The world is rich and bright, as though The pillows where your head is low Had lit the fields of driven snow. The hoar-frost on the window turns Into a wood of giant ferns Where some great conflagration burns. And all my childhood comes again As lightsome and as free from stain As those frost-pictures on the pane. 1 would that I could mount on high And meet you. Sun — that you and I Had to ourselves the whole wide sky. But here my poor soul has to stay. So tell me, rising Sun, I pray. What are you bringing me to-day ? SUNRISE 119 What shall this busy brain have thought, What shall these hands and feet have wrought, What sorrows shall the hours have brought, Before thy brilliant course is run, Before this new-bom day is done. Before you set, rising Sun ? 120 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER TO With a Copy of Palgrave's ' Golden Treasury ' With silvery moonlight for a lamp, And minstrelsy of mountain streams, This book will fill the lonely camp With richest harvesting of dreams. April 27, 1909. THE CHARCOAL-BURNER Beneath this frowning cliff, upon whose crest The mountain eagle yearly builds her nest. The Charcoal-Bumer hath his modest hut, ■ With friendly door that is but seldom shut. Here day by day the early-rising sun Finds the grim worker with his task begun ; And curling up the mountains, coil on coil, Floats pungent incense from his honest toil. MY GARDEN 121 MY GARDEN My garden shows no bright array Of rich exotics in its beds, But Httle sunbeams in it play, And leafy maples lift their heads. The walks but scanty labour get. No skilful hands their borders trim, But when the grass with dew is wet And distant hills are growing dim, A quiet beauty round me falls. Wherein all imperfections hide. And darkness builds her nunnery walls Between me and the world outside. Then on the stone seat, looking far Into the distance o'er the vale, I watch the friendly evening star Grow brighter as the sky grows pale. Strange little people round me sleep, The ants that have so active been Now in the sand their vigil keep Around the chambers of their queen. The gentle birds are warm and still. Tucked in their nests among the trees, While sweetest thoughts their dreaming fill In the soft rocking of the breeze. 122 TIME'S DEFEAT And patient worms that ere the day Will push their noses through the soil, Now gather all the strength they may To aid them for the morrow's toil. Haply a toad hops now and then Across the flagstones at my feet, To tell me that not only men Have found that darkness is most sweet. So in my garden night and day, With sunshine or with stars above, God takes my petty cares away. And fills me with His perfect love. TIME'S DEFEAT Time said to me in scorn, ' I was, ere thou wast born.' ' But I,' I quick replied, ' Shall be, when thou hast died.' MEMORY 123 MEMORY O Golden Gates of Memory, The sun is burning low, Unlock thy bars and let me see The ghost-forms come and go. Ye shadowy faces from the past, I once could hear you speak ; My arms around your forms were cast, I kissed you on the cheek. Your laughter rang into my brain, I felt your spirit's fire ; Ye knew the rack of human pain. The rapture of desire. And somewhere through the realms of space Ye wander unconfined. But now ye take for dwelling-place The chambers of the mind. Dear faces, once so bright and fair. Ye come from buried years — Old faces, grey with human care, Child faces wet with tears. I pluck the flowers of early days, 1 smell the breath of spring, The woods arc thrilling with the lays Of dead birds carolling. 124 A MASTER MASON But now a wind begins to moan, I hear the sob of waves, And lo, I wander all alone Across a land of graves. O Golden Gates of Memory, Be shut ! The sun has set, And night-clouds roll up from the sea ; O, let my heart forget. A MASTER MASON With honest hands, he toiled from morn till night. The plumb his gauge of truth, the square, of right. No dreams had he, no visions strange and dim. And schools and logic they were nought to him. He found his God in a much simpler way. Even by doing his duty day by day. When in the burning sun or welcome shade. Mid dust and noise, he plied his noble trade. For as each stone into its place would slip, God smiled on him in sweet companionship. GUILTY 125 ' IN TE, DOMINE ' The hills may crumble into dust, The earth may swallow up the sea, But naught can shake my living trust In Him whose firm hands moulded me. For when I draw myself apart From things which make my vision dim. Deep in the silence of my heart He meets me, and I speak with Him. GUILTY A SUDDEN flash of heat, A sudden sharp word said, And at his guilty feet The thing called love lay dead. 126 VAN ELSEN VAN ELSEN God spake three times and saved Van Elsen's soul ; He spake by sickness first and made him whole ; Van Elsen heard Him not. Or soon forgot. God spake to him by wealth, the world outpoured Its treasures at his feet, and called him Lord ; Van Elsen's heart grew fat And proud thereat. God spake the third time when the great world smiled, And in the sunshine slew his little child ; Van Elsen like a tree Fell hopelessly. Then in the darkness came a Voice which said, ' As thy heart bleedeth, so My heart hath bled. As I have need of thee, Thou needest Me.' That night Van Elsen kissed the baby feet, And kneeling by the narrow winding-sheet, Praised Him with fervent breath Who conquered death. IN MEMORIAM 127 IN MEMORIAM James William Williams, Lord Bishop of Quebec To those found faithful, oft the call to rest Comes in the glory of the later noon. Ere evening falls and with declining day The mind has darkened and work lost its zest. So now, though first our sad hearts cried ' Too soon,' We see God's angel did in heavenly way His finished work and Master's love attest. And now he wins, withdrawn from human eye, A good man's two-fold immortality, To live for ever near the Master's throne. And here, in lives made better by his own. April 20, 1892. 128 AN ODE AN ODE What boots it to be great ? To live in royal state And feast with kings, Since now all things One doom await ? What boots it to be fair ? Sweet eyes and golden hair, And youthful bloom, Since in the tomb All foulness there ? To live in royal state — That is not to be great ; Sweet eyes and golden hair- That is not to be fair. What is it to be great ? Content with thine estate, To serve thy God and King In everything — That is it to be great. What is it to be fair ? Sweet modesty to wear, To keep thine honour sure. Thy bosom pure — That is it to be fair. Much boots it to be great, Much boots it to be fair. London, 1883. A NOCTURNE 129 A NOCTURNE In the little French church at the bend of the river, When rainy and loud was the wind in the night, An altar-lamp burnt to the mighty Grace-giver, The Holy Child Jesus— the Light of the Light. It was hung on a chain from the roof, and was swinging. As if the unseemly commotion to chide. Like the choir-master's baton when hushing the singing. Or the tongue of the bell when its tollings subside. It lit up the poor paper flowers on the altar. And odd were the shadows it scattered around On pulpit and lectern, on choir-seat and psalter, While the chains threw the ghost of a cross on the ground. The people at home in their cabins were sleeping. The cure was tucked in his four-posted bed ; While under the willows the river was creeping As if silent with fear of the wind overhead. But the little dark church had its own congregation — The shadows that swayed on the pews and the floor — While the rafters that creaked were a choir whose laudation Had an organ for base in the hurricane's roar. I 130 A NOCTURNE The rusty gilt cock on the fleche was the preacher, And scolding and grumpy his voice was to hear, As he turned to the storm like some faithful old teacher Who prophesies hard things regardless of fear. But the service reflected the state of the weather, For though each, I must say, did his part with a will. The preacher and choir spoke and sang all together, And the shapes on the benches would never sit still. Yet there was the Host, in the midst of the altar, Where that little red curtain of damask was hung, — The God whom King David has praised in the psalter. And to whom the whole choir of the ages has sung. But so big is the heart of our God, the Life-giver, That in it life's humour and pathos both meet ; So I doubt not that night in the church by the river. The poor old storm's service to Him sounded sweet. DESTINY 131 DESTINY They loved in youth and parted, and for years He worshipped at her shrine through hopes and fears. The fruits of exile 'neath an alien sky Were garnered for an offering by-and-by ; And all the strong endeavours of the man Were shaped and moulded to a single plan. They met years after in the public ways, And talked as others might of bygone days ; And he, ere that day's sun died down in flame, Set sail once more for lands from whence he came. There, till the end, he lived a life apart, Still worshipping the image in his heart. 132 UNDER THE PINES UNDER THE PINES * Life is sad,' says the wind in the pines To the still soul listening, While the pale, pale day declines Like a white bird on the wing. ' Life is sad,' says the quiet earth Under the churchyard wall. Where the spring flowers have their birth And the autumn leaflets fall. ' Life is sad,' say the daisies that blow there And stretch out their heads to the sun ; ' Life is sad,' say the poor hearts that go there To weep when the day's work is done. ' Life is sad,' from below, from on high, From forest and meadow and tree, From the clouds that drift over the sky And the days that die into the sea. Then up and be brave with thy sorrow, Like a man with his face to the blast ; Not from hope of the joys of to-morrow. Nor rest when the warfare is past ; But strong that weak souls may grow strong, That men may take heart by the way, Till the heavens break forth with the song That will herald eternal day. 1887. THE TWO MISTRESSES 133 THE TWO MISTRESSES Ah, woe is me, my heart 's in sorry plight, Enamoured equally of Wrong and Right ; Right hath the sweeter grace, But Wrong the prettier face : Ah, woe is me, my heart 's in sorry plight. And Right is jealous that I let Wrong stay ; Yet Wrong seems sweeter when I turn away. Right sober is, like Truth, But Wrong is in her youth ; So Right is jealous that I let Wrong stay. When I am happy, left alone with Right, Then Wrong flits by and puts her out of sight ; I follow and I fret. And once again forget That I am happy, left alone with Right. Ah, God ! do Thou have pity on my heart ! A puppet blind am I, take Thou my part ! Chasten my wandering love, Set it on things above : Ah, God ! do Thou take pity on my heart ! 134 IN THE WOODS IN THE WOODS This is God's house — the blue sky is the ceiling, This wood the soft, green carpet for His feet, Those hills His stairs, down which the brooks come stealing, With baby laughter making earth more sweet. And here His friends come, clouds and soft winds sighing, And little birds whose throats pour forth their love, And spring and summer, and the white snow lying Pencilled with shadows of bare boughs above. And here come sunbeams through the green leaves straying, And shadows from the storm-clouds overdrawn. And warm, hushed nights, when mother earth is praying So late that her moon-candle burns till dawn. Sweet house of God, sweet earth so full of pleasure, I enter at thy gates in storm or calm ; And every sunbeam is a joy and treasure. And every cloud a solace and a balm. SONG 135 BY THE SEA Ever the strong, salt life, ever the dream, Ever the pulsing force, the mystery Of tireless Nature working 'neath the stars Her destiny apart from human things. SONG (From the Italian of Guarini) When the leaves are falling, Dearest, And you seek the quiet mound Where I slumber, you will find it With a wealth of blossoms crowned. Gather, then, for thy bright tresses Those that from my heart have sprung ; They're the love-thoughts that I spoke not. And the songs I left unsung. 136 JEHORAM JEHORAM (2 Chron. xxi.) Not in kings' chambers Make his last bed, Not with his fathers Lay ye the dead : Reeking from murders, Leprous and foul. Give him for mourners Vulture and owl. God set the crown on, God made him man, He coaxed the brute up, Breaking God's plan, Married to murder Lusting for lust. Out went the life-spark Leaving mere dust. Through the rich vineyards Blows the hot breeze. Laden with rose-breath Noisy with bees ; Here where his footsteps Blasted the earth. Justice shall triumph, Freedom have birth. JEHORAM 137 Cleanse ye the throne-room, Wash the stained crown, Make straight the sceptre. Throw the gods down ; From the rich pavements Rub each dark blot, Those wildly-staring Eyes see you not. Throw wide the palace, Let the sun in, Let the winds fill it, Purge out the sin, Ghosts and all shadows Drive far away. Fill it with bird-songs. Flood it with day. Bum the soft couches, Throw out the wine. These turned to devil What was divine. Silence that laughter Born of the tomb, It is the death-knell Tolling man's doom. Rise, slumbering people, Cast out your dead, Darkness shall shroud him, Earth be his bed, Till the lean wolf-dogs Make him their feast. Who, though God crowned him. Chose to be beast. 138 ON THE CLIFF ON THE CLIFF I SEE the great blue ocean kiss the sky Far to the South, I hear the sea-gulls wail Among the crags, while, underneath, the sail Goes swiftly by. The sun looks down upon the twinkling sea ; I hear the waters breaking far below ; And all is joyous, save the cloud of woe That hangs o'er me. The loving sky can ever kiss the sea, The ripple and the zephyr never part ; Then why — oh, why — should thy sweet loving heart Be torn from me ? 1882 LABOR INSTANS ' 139 VICTORY On a battlefield confined By the four walls of a mind, Two great spirits, stem and strong, Battled fiercely — Right and Wrong. Sometimes Wrong with sudden thrust Threw Right headlong in the dust ; Then would Right with might and main Shake his foe and rise again. Years and years the battle raged, And the man grew bent and aged ; Till at last, his time being o'er, Death came knocking at the door. ' Let me in,' the angel said, ' God hath sent me, have no dread ; For the fight so well maintained Endless rest on high hath gained.' ' LABOR INSTANS ' Rude Labour, toihng on through hopeless night, Naked and starved, scorn heaped upon his head, Now rises in his strength with sword to smite. And asks the nations lor his daily bread. 140 TOWARDS EVENING TOWARDS EVENING Now more than half the day is done, So let us loiter down the hill, With faces towards the setting sun. And hearts contented to be still. The love that made the morn so bright Is with us now that daylight dies, And shall be with us when the night Has drawn her curtain o'er the skies. So very sweet the past hath been, We cannot bear to let it go ; And yet from all that we have seen. Life's flowers get richer as they grow. A deeper pleasure comes with years In all the simple things of life. There is less bitterness in tears, Less tumult in the heart of strife. The daily scenes in which we dwell Become infused with tenderer grace. And powers of consolation dwell In every change on Nature's face. The coming of the winter snow. The blossoms of the early spring, Can set the spirit all aglow, And make the heart rejoice and sing. TOWARDS EVENING 141 And when against the window-pane The mist has made a curtain dim, The beating of the summer rain Is sweet and solemn as a hymn. For then from out the chambered past The spirit faces come and go, And overhead the clouded vast Is noisy with the winds that blow. Thus God comes knocking at the door, And makes our hearts within us bum, For asking from us more and more. He gives more richly in return. The golden sun now sets apace, And stars look downward from the deep, There cometh in a little space, The folding of the hands to sleep. 1909. 142 THE SKYLARK'S MESSAGE THE SKYLARK'S MESSAGE Sweet little upturned faces, Poor little hands and feet, Little eyes that are careworn and anxious From hunger and want in the street, Hear ye that skylark singing Like an angel far away ? 'Tis bringing to you a message From the golden gates of day. Ah, little know ye of the meadows. Poor little blistered feet, Down in the smoke of the city, Down in the noise of the street ! But it sings of a better country. Where tired little hearts can rest ; Of a sun that shines for ever, And the love of a Father's breast. O poor little weary spirits, I would that you knew its song, For the world is very heartless. And your journey may be long ; And ye need such heavenly music To cheer you in the night. Little hearts that are now so noble, Little souls that are now so white. THE SKYLARK'S MESSAGE 143 I would that ye heard it always, That sweet bird's voice within, When the heart is sad and lonely In the long, long struggle with sin ; Till a rest comes out of the sunset For the labouring hands and feet, And a silence has fallen for ever On the noise and the dust of the street. London, 1883. 144 ISOLATION ISOLATION A Song at Sunset There 's a lonely spot in the soul of man. More lone than the moonless sea ; And a gulf, that never a bridge can span, 'Tween him and all that be ; And the lips we kiss, and the eyes we love, And the glory of golden hair, Melt like the stars in the mist above. And shed no sunlight there. There 's a weary voice in the soul of man That cries for the great ' to be,' Like the moan of the worlds when time began. Or the wail of the wind by the sea ; And only the fall of the faded leaf And the sigh of the night in the trees. Can utter the spirit's lonely grief And the sorrow that no one sees. i88: A MOOD 145 A MOOD As some great cloud upon a mountain's breast. Hanging for ever, shutteth out the sun, Its chilly fingers twining in the trees And blighting them, so ever one dark thought Broods o'er my life and makes my spirit droop Beneath its baleful shade. A demon form Is ever at my side, whose icy touch Freezes my warmest thoughts, and makes them hang Like dull, cold icicles about my heart. I feel his presence 'mid my fellow-men ; I see his image in the restless sea That gnaws the land ; and on the towering top, Where everything is still, amid the rocks. Worn bald by fleeting years, I hear his tread. I see his footsteps in the lonely wild, Where forests ever spring and ever die ; But, most of all, I feel him near at night. When all the world is shrouded in the gloom Of dreamful Sleep, — so like his brother Death. I see his eyeballs on the glittering sky ; I hear his laughter ringing from the stars, That look at me and say, ' O helpless worm, Upon a world of worms, dost thou not know The dust thou treadcst in was once like thee, And laughed its laugh, and had its time to weep, And now lies helpless, trampled on, forgot, Scattered upon thy tiny globe which hangs Chained to its sun in black infinity ? K T46 A MOOD That thou — thou, too — must soon be dust again, Forgotten, helpless, trampled on by those That shall come after thee ? ' I even hear His voice amid the voices of my friends. Harsh, taunting me with death, and dreams of death. And, when I gaze in rapture on the face Of whom I love, he casts a hideous light. That lets me see, behind the sweet, warm flesh, The lightless skull, and o'er the rounded form The shades of death, aye dark and darker growing, Until the life-light melts into the night. Oh, would that I could break the cursed chain That binds this monster to me ! for my life Is like some gloomy valley that lies chill Beneath a frowning precipice. And yet The thread of gloom is woven in my being, And I am loth to rend it, for my thoughts Have long been shaded by it. Ever since I first could play, I used to watch the boys, So joyous in their sports, and saw them men. Grown chilly-hearted in a chilly world. Grown weary with the burden of their life, All restless, seeking rest yet finding change ; And then I saw the gathering shadows lower Upon the evening of their life, and then They merged into the dark, and all was still — Dust under dust, forgotten by the world In ugly loathsomeness. The demon still Was at my side in after-years, and threw A shade on every friendship, as a cloud Floats past the sun and dims the flowering fields. Oft have I wondered at the woodland stream That dances on, through dapple-lighted woods, A MOOD 147 O'er moss}^ pebbles glinting in the sun, Like eyes of merry children round the lire. And never seems to think that it must thread The misty fen, where every flower grows rank Amid the lazy ooze, and sink at last Beneath the boundless sea. Oh, happy they. Who thus go laughing on from year to year, And never know the mystery of being, And never start and shudder at the dream That they and all mankind are dreaming — Life, And strive to wake, but fall back helplessly ; Who fancy sunlight, when the sky is dark, And never know that time, like India's snake. Enwraps us with his gaudy-coloured folds Of changing seasons, till his dread embrace Has crushed out life ; who live, and laugh, and weep. And tread the dust of myriads underfoot. And see men die around them, yet whose life. The demon form that stalks beside my path, The consciousness of never-ending change. Has never darkened, as it darkens mine. Beneath the shadow of the wing of Death. March 18S2. 148 THE STING OF DEATH THE STING OF DEATH ' Is Sin, then, fair ? ' Nay, love, come now. Put back the hair From his sunny brow ; See, here, blood-red Across his head A brand is set, The word — ' Regret,' ' Is Sin so fleet That while he stays, Our hands and feet May go his ways ? ' Nay, love, his breath Clings round like death, He slakes desire With liquid fire. ' Is Sin Death's sting ? ' Ay, sure he is. His golden wing Darkens man's bliss ; And when Death comes. Sin sits and hums A chaunt of fears Into man's ears. THE STING OF DEATH 149 ' How slayeth Sin ? ' First, God is hid, And the heart within By its own self chid ; Then the maddened brain Is scourged by pain To sin as before And more and more. For evermore. 150 ' TE JUDICE ' ' TE JUDICE ' Dost thou deem that thyself Art as white from sin As a platter of delf, — Outside and in ? When thine eyes behold Christ's kind face lean From His throne of gold To test what is told Of the life that hath been, Like a leper of old, Thou wilt cry, ' Unclean ! Unclean ! Unclean ! ' And thinkest thou this — That thou judgest aright Thy heart as it is In God's and man's sight ? Fool, take up thy light. And descend the stair steep To thy heart's dungeons deep. And search them and sweep Till their ghosts are unmasked ; Else, when judgment is come. Thou wilt stand stark and dumb At the first question asked. A QUESTION 151 THE OLD GARDENER Dear Mother Earth, in this long wooden box, We bring old Michael with his silvery locks ; Such years he tended thee with pick and spade, Right gladly wilt thou welcome his poor shade. A QUESTION O YE Wise of the Earth, are ye wise ? ' We can tell from a bone,' ye say, ' An animal's shape and size, And the size and shape of its prey.' — ' For such and such joint,' say ye, * For such and such use must be.' When I show that since time began The soul hath longed for the skies. Ye say, ' Death is the end of Man.' — O ye Wise of the Earth, are ye wise ? 1883. 152 EPITAPH ON DR. JENNER ON DARWIN'S TOMB IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY The Muse, when asked what words alone Were worthy tribute to his fame. Took up her pen, and on the stone Inscribed his name. London, 1883. EPITAPH ON DR. JENNER In sterner fight than Waterloo He saved his hapless brothers ; Not by his own arm, it is true, But by the arms of others. 1886. THE SNOWSTORM 153 THE SNOWSTORM The sky is hid in a snowy shroud, And the road in the woods is white, But the dear God watches above the cloud In the centre of hght. In the woods is the hush of the snowfiakes' fall, And the creak of a lumberman's sleigh, But in Heaven the choirs of the Master of all Make praise alway. Up there is the throne of the Triune God And the worshipping multitudes. And here is the long white winter road And the silent woods. 154 THE WINDMILL THE WINDMILL A LITTLE toy windmill is turning, Perched up on the roof of the shed, Beyond it the sunset is burning. And the limitless woods are outspread. It knows not the winds that are blowing, It asks not the clouds what they are. While the gold of the sunset is going, And over it looks out a star. But alas for the hearts that are weary. For as the night settles apace. To the poor human spirit how dreary And cold looks the starland of space. LEO XIII 155 THE NIGHT-WIND Where the huge clouds part, A voice from God's heart Saith unto me, In accents clear : ' Who hath eyes, let him see ; Who hath ears, let him hear.' The wind with delight Shakes the mantle of night, And roars through the trees With the voice of the seas ; And it saith to my mind : ' Some day thou shalt find Thy home in the deep. When death wakes thee from sleep.' LEO XIII Servant of God, of thee the world had need. For this thy glory, this thy triple crown. Thy soul from out its battlemented creed Glowed with that love which molts all barriers d(nvn. 156 JACK JACK You 're only a dumb little dog, Jack, About ten or twelve pounds or so. And your wits must be all in a fog, Jack, If you have any wits, I know. But you 've two such soft brown eyes. Jack, And such long grey silky hair ; And, what very much more I prize. Jack, Such a warm little heart in there. They say warm hearts are rare, Jack, And I almost believe that it 's true ; But there aren't many hearts can compare. Jack, With that staunch little heart in you. Of course, we that speak and can read. Jack, Have plenty of friendships sweet ; But, in spite of them all, there 's a need. Jack, For a friend like the friend at my feet. This planet must seem a queer place. Jack, To your poor little limited mind ; For I fancy you never can trace. Jack, The reasons for half that you find. JACK 157 You 're not bothered with questions like us, Jack, About forces and morals and laws ; And you never get worried or fuss, Jack, When you cannot discover a cause. But you go your own little way. Jack, With a wag of the tail for a friend ; And in spite of our talk, I dare say, Jack, That we don't do much more in the end. 18S8. 158 THE ABBOT THE ABBOT A WANING moon was in the sky And many a still cloud floated by, With outline dark the abbey stood Fronting a line of wood. With bowed head on the chapel stone The Abbot knelt for hours alone, While round him coloured moonbeams threw Rose-work of richest hue. A tiny altar-lamp burnt dim, And lit the sculptured seraphim Which fringed the choir with faces bent Before the Sacrament. The place was still as in a dream. So very still, the ear did seem To catch the voice of years gone by, And long dead harmony. The abbey clock above struck three, The Abbot rose from bended knee. His face was greyer than the stone, His eyes were woe-begone. He passed into the cloister dim. The night-air brought no balm to him. What anguish made his senses reel, Christ could not heal ? THE ABBOT 159 He entered at an iron grate, The halls within were desolate ; Like one who waketh from a spell, He halted at a cell. Therein upon a pallet bed, With bars of moonlight on his head. While winds through ivied mullions creep, A fair-haired boy did sleep. Outside an owl did hoot and call And drown the Abbot's light foot-fall, But rustle of those garments sere In dreams the boy did hear. ' Hush, boy, 'tis I,' the Abbot said, ' Thy pure soul to the rescued dead Shall bear my message ; life is past, Hell's meshes hold me fast. ' Was thy sleep sweet ? my sleep is o'er, One speaks to thee who never more Shall look on man (God send us grace). Nor ever see God's face.' The boy through fear sat bolt upright In tongueless terror, for moonlight Smote slanting on the face and eye. Which worked convulsively. ' One burden, boy, a weight of years. Full to the brim of hopeless tears, Hath crushed me, bearing round my brain The double brand of Cain. i6o THE ABBOT ' Thy life and hopes are all before, And mine are passed for evermore ; My secret in the years to come Remember, but be dumb. ' O God, my heart beats loud within, I slew my brother in mortal sin, I stabbed him twice, not knowing, to free A maiden's chastity.' The Abbot stood erect and tall, His shadow fell along the wall, — God save him, as if seeking grace. He hid his cowled face. ' A black snake slipt across my feet. Above bare boughs did part and meet, There was a motion in the air And eyes watched everywhere. * The deed was done in distant lands, But his blood dabbled these same hands, And under trees where pale stars shine His eyes looked into mine. ' One look from those dead eyes of his, And love rushed back to him ; was this The climax of his life who seemed The king my boyhood dreamed ? ' Shall sin and shall not love endure ? — Love grounded in the past and pure, Man's love for man, for angels fit. Could one act shatter it ? ' THE ABBOT i6i The boy sat upright, pale as death, A numbness stole away his breath, The fascination of the eye. Which moved convulsively. ' I fled at sunrise down the bay To where a mystic island lay, Dazed with the cloudless arch of sky And waves' monotony. ' And here a convent open stood. Where monks sought peace in solitude ; I entered with the rest to hide Within the Crucified. ' I told my woe to one ; he said, — " Under thy feet, and overhead, And all around is God. To-night, Keep vigil, pray for light." ' That night in cave-shrine, visions three God and the Virgin sent to me ; Four angels fenced the cavern's mouth With locked wings, north and south. ' Thrice darkness fell, and thrice I lay Low-poised above a sea, no day Lit up its shoreless waves, no night Shut distance from the sight. ' No fish leaped up, no God looked down. No sound there was, I strove to drown, — Ere waves were touched a wind did spring, And bore me on its wing. L i62 THE ABBOT ' My blood stood still and thick as ice, And thought held thought, as in a vice, The ages died, no death did bless The death of nothingness. ' Each time the soul did undergo The torture of a separate woe. The demon fangs insatiate. Of doubt, despair and hate. ' I woke and told the monk my dreams ; His voice was sad, he said, " Meseems No part one slain in his soul's blood Shall have in Holy Rood. ' " But brother," said the aged man, " God works by many a diverse plan. And once vicarious agony Saved souls on Calvary. ' " I know not but, with God in heaven, Some grace to lost souls may be given ; By fasts and scourgings, prayers and pains, Loose thou thy brother's chains," ' Yea, boy, have I not prayed to Heaven ? Has not life spoilt with bitter leaven And fasts and scourgings, night and day, The blood-guilt burnt away ? * But ever from the throat of hell There booms a fearful passing-bell Of one, once slain in his soul's blood, Cast out from Holy Rood. THE ABBOT 163 ' The passions of the full-grown man Concentre where his life began ; The boy's love is not manifold, It grips with single hold. ' The boyhood's love is part of us, No power can wrench it out, and thus Love chained me to him in the gloom, And I had wrought his doom. ' The thing was with me day by day, And all my thinking underlay ; And even through hours when I forgot, Ached as a canker spot. ' My food was ashes in my mouth, My very soul was seared with drouth, I banished thought, the struggle vain Brought back the thought again. ' The saints and angels held aloof, My prayers fell back from chapel roof. They had no lightness to ascend Where earth and heaven blend. ' The stars did mock me with their peace, The seasons brought me no release. Despair and anguish like a sea And pain were under me. ' And year by year more pains I gave, Till life became a living grave, Till, like the lost behind hell's gate, My soul was desolate.' i64 THE ABBOT Outside an owl did hoot and call, But in the abbey silence all ; The Abbot's voice had hollow sound, As if from underground. ' Hush, boy, the fiend came yesternight.' The Abbot smiled — a gruesome sight, That smiling face in moonlight wan. With eyes so woe-begone — * The fiend came yesternight to ask The utmost deed that life can task, A soul by self-death given to win Another's soul from sin.' So fearful was the story told, The boy's teeth chattered as with cold, He saw no leaf-shapes on the floor, He heard no bell ring four. * To-night with head on chapel stone, I prayed to Him who did atone. Till blood-sweat ran, as down His face It ran in garden-place. ' 'Tis done, the earthly fight is o'er. My soul is dark for evermore, I am the fiend's, hark ! hear him call — He holds a soul in thrall. ' I know not if the spirit breath, Meets spirit on the road of death. Or falleth like a thin, white thread Among the under dead. THE ABBOT 165 ' I know not whether, passing by, One rapid moment, he and I, His face upturned to coming crown, Mine anguished, bending down, ' Shall then know all ; but boy, when near Thy feet approach where tier on tier, God's minstrels face the Trinity, In that place made for me, ' But mine no longer, seek thou there One with thine eyes and golden hair. Gold as his broidered vesture is. And say whose soul won his. * Perchance, though there no sorrow dims. The tears will mount to his eyes' brims. And I shall live, his sweetest thought. For what my love hath wrought. ' Again the demon calls, I come. See, pure boy, let thy Hps be dumb, One last atonement lifts to-night A lost soul into light.' He kissed the boy upon the brow ; ' Yea, very like to him art thou, When we sat pure on mother's knee, Farewell, eternally.' The Abbot passed into the gloom. The moonlight flooded all the room. The boy sat stark from hour to hour. Chained by unearthly power. i66 THE ABBOT But lo, when, in the matin time, The bells rang out the hour of prime, From cloistered aisle and chapel stair A wild cry rent the air. Not yet quite cold, dead in his blood. With face averted from the Rood, The Abbot lay on chapel stone, His eyes still woe-begone. No bell was rung, no mass was said. They buried the dishonoured dead Out in the road which crossed the wood, In dark and solitude. They marked the spot with never a stone. Tree-shadows fell on it alone, And moss and vines and thin wood grass Grew where no feet would pass. Nathless, it seemed to one fair boy. The birds did sing with fuller joy, And angels swung wood incense faint, As round the grave of saint. The tiny altar-lamp burnt dim, And lit the sculptured seraphim, And tombs where monks in garments sere Were gathered year by year. But when an old monk came to die. He spake thus to those standing by : ' Out in that spot my grave be set. Marked by wood violet. THE ABBOT 167 ' No man can judge another's sin, God only sees without and in, Wherefore, my brethren, be ye kind. That was our Master's mind. * For many are crowned as saints by God Whose graves unheeding feet have trod ; Man judges by the outer Hfe, God by the inner strife. ' Out there the forest tree-roots creep Round one sad heart's forgotten sleep, A heart which broke in giving all To save a soul from thrall.' 1889. i68 A HYMN OF EMPIRE A HYMN OF EMPIRE Lord, by whose might the Heavens stand, The Source from whence they came, Who holdest nations in Thy hand, And call'st the stars by name, Thine ageless forces do not cease To mould us as of yore — The chiselling of the arts of peace, The anvil-strokes of war. Then bind our realms in brotherhood. Firm laws and equal rights. Let each uphold the Empire's good In freedom that unites ; And make that speech whose thunders roll Down the broad stream of time, The harbinger from pole to pole Of love and peace sublime. Lord, turn the hearts of cowards who prate. Afraid to dare or spend, The doctrine of a narrower State More easy to defend ; Not this the watchword of our sires Who breathed with ocean's breath. Not this our spirit's ancient fires Which nought could quench but death. A HYMN OF EMPIRE 169 Strong are we ? Make us stronger yet ; Great ? Make us greater far. Our feet antarctic oceans fret, Our crown the polar star ; Round Earth's wild coasts our batteries speak, Our highway is the main. We stand as guardian of the weak, We burst the oppressor's chain. Great God, uphold us in our task, Keep pure and clean our rule, Silence the honeyed words which mask The wisdom of the fool. The pillars of the world are Thine ; Pour down Thy bounteous grace, And make illustrious and divine The sceptre of our race. 170 CANADA CANADA Out of the clouds on Time's horizon, dawneth the new Day, spacious and fair : White-winged over the world it shineth ; wide- winged over the land and sea. Spectres and ghosts of battles and hatred flee at the touch of the morning air : Throned on the ocean, the new Sun ariseth ; Dark- ness is over, we wake, and are free. Ages of ages guarded and tended mountain and water- fall, river and plain, Forests, that sighed with the sorrows of God in the infinite night when the stars looked down, — Guarded and tended with winter and summer, sword of lightning and food of rain. This, our Land, where the twin-born peoples, youngest of Nations, await their crown. Now, in the dawn of a Nation's glory, now, in the passionate youth of Time, Wide-thrown portals, infinite visions, splendours of knowledge, dreams from afar. Seas, that toss in their limitless fury, thunder of cataracts, heights sublime. Mock us, and dare us, to do and inherit, to mount up as eagles and grasp at the star. CANADA 171 Blow on us, Breath of the pitiless passion that pulses and throbs in the heart of the sea ! Smite on us, Wind of the night-hidden Arctic ! breathe on us, Breath of the languorous South ! Here, where ye gather to conflict and triumph, men shall have manhood, Man shall be free ; Here hath he shattered the yoke of the tyrant ; free as the winds are the words of his mouth. Voice of the infinite solitude, speak to us ! Speak to us, Voice of the mountain and plain ! Give us the dreams which the lakes are dreaming — lakes with bosoms all white in the dawn ; Give us the thoughts of the deep-browed mountains, thoughts that will make us as gods to reign ; Give us the calm that is pregnant with action — calm of the hills when night is withdrawn. Brothers, who crowd to the golden portals — portals which God has opened wide — Shake off the dust from your feet as ye enter ; gird up your loins, and pass within : Cringing to no man, go in as brothers ; mount up to kingship, side by side : Night is behind us. Day is before us, victories wait us, heights arc to win. God, then, uplift us ! God, then, uphold us ! Great God, throw wider the bounds of Man's thought ! Gnaws at our heart-strings the hunger for action ; burns like a desert the thirst in our soul : Give us the gold of a steadfast endeavour ; give us the heights which our fathers have sought : Though we start last in the race of the Nations, give us the power to be first at the goal. 172 THE COLOURS OF THE FLAG THE COLOURS OF THE FLAG What is the blue on our flag, boys ? The waves of the boundless sea, Where our vessels ride in their tameless pride And the feet of the winds are free ; From the sun and smiles of the coral isles To the ice of the South and North, With dauntless tread through tempests dread The guardian ships go forth. What is the white on our flag, boys ? The honour of our land. Which burns in our sight like a beacon light And stands while the hills shall stand ; Yea, dearer than fame is our land's great name, And we fight, wherever we be, For the mothers and wives that pray for the lives Of the brave hearts over the sea. What is the red on our flag, boys ? The blood of our heroes slain On the burning sands in the wild waste lands And the froth of the purple main. And it cries to God from the crimsoned sod And the crest of the waves outrolled That He send us men to fight again As our fathers fought of old. THE COLOURS OF THE FLAG 173 We '11 stand by the dear old flag, boys, Whatever be said or done, Though the shots come fast, as we face the blast, And the foe be ten to one ; — Though our only reward be the thrust of a sword And a bullet in heart or brain. What matters one gone, if the flag float on And Britain be lord of the main. 174 IN MEMORIAM IN MEMORIAM Those killed in the Canadian North- west, 1885 Growing to full manhood now, With the care-lines on our brow. We, the youngest of the nations, With no childish lamentations, Weep, as only strong men weep. For the noble hearts that sleep, Pillowed where they fought and bled. The loved and lost, our glorious dead ! Toil and sorrow come with age, Manhood's rightful heritage ; Toil our arms more strong shall render. Sorrow make our hearts more tender, In the heartlessness of time ; Honour lays a wreath sublime — Deathless glory — where they bled, Our loved and lost, our glorious dead ! Wild the prairie grasses wave O'er each hero's new-made grave ; Time shall write such wrinkles o'er us. But the future spreads before us Glorious in that sunset land — Nerving every heart and hand, Comes a brightness none can shed. But the dead, the glorious dead ! IN MEMORIAM 175 Lay them where they fought and fell ; Every heart shall ring their knell, For the lessons they have taught us, For the glory they have brought us. Tho' our hearts are sad and bowed, Nobleness still makes us proud — Proud of light their names shall shed In the roll-call of our dead ! Growing to full manhood now. With the care-lines on our brow. We, the youngest of the nations, With no childish lamentations. Weep, as only strong men weep. For the noble hearts that sleep Where the call of duty led. Where the lonely prairies spread, Where for us they fought and bled. Our loved, our lost, our glorious dead ! 1885. 176 BRITISH WAR SONG BRITISH WAR SONG ' Wars and rumours of wars ' — the clouds lower over the sea, And a man must now be a man, if ever a man can be ; ' Wars and rumours of wars ' — a cry from the flaming East, For the vultures are gathered together, and the lions roar over the feast. War ! Shall we flinch ! Shall we tremble ! Shall we shrink like cowards from the fray ? Better all Britons were dead than their glory passed away ! The clouds may be dark and lowering, the storm may be loud and long, But the hearts of our men are true, and the arms of our men are strong. From the thousand years of glory, from the grave of heroes gone, Comes a voice on the breath of the storm, and a power that sweeps us on : A man must now be a man, and every man be true, For the grave that covers our glory shall cover each Briton too. 1885. FROM CANADA 177 FROM CANADA Mother and Queen, from the golden West We offer in love at the foot of thy throne All we can give thee, our dearest and best, Flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone. Take them. Queen of the brave and free ; They come in their love to die for thee. Mother and Queen, from farm and mart. From bank and factory, hill and plain, They gather in love for a noble heart. To lighten its sorrow and share its pain. Take them, Queen of the brave and free ; They come in their love to die for thee. Mother and Queen, our homes were bright And pure as the air of the sunlit north ; But tears have darkened the women's sight Since the day that the brothers and sons went forth. Take them. Queen of the brave and free ; They come in their love to die for thee. Mother and Queen of the spotless throne. Lady and Lord of the sea and land, Thou makest our far-bom sons thine own By the tender clasp of a woman's hand. Take them. Queen of the brave and free ; They come in their love to die for thee. M 178 FROM CANADA Mother and Queen, from the strong, glad West, From the rivers and plains where our children roam, We give thee our dearest, our bravest, our best ; Take them. Queen of our heart and home. Asking no bounty, favour or fee. They come in their love to die for thee. Quebec, March i, 1900. A VOICE FROM CANADA 179 A VOICE FROM CANADA To AN English Pro-Boer Hush, babbling Pharisee, Scribe, hypocrite, do we Love, any more Than you do, war ? Think you that darkhng skies And helpless orphans' cries Do never keep Our hearts from sleep ? Have not our blinding tears. In these late anxious years. Been wrung by pain For loved ones slain ? Think you those hearts are steel Who, for the common weal, Thus lay down all At duty's call ? You talk, but do not share The heavy load we bear Of sundered ties And sacrifice. i8o INSCRIPTION ON SOLDIERS' MONUMENT That far-off, lonely grave, Where sleep the sons we gave, Looms in our sight By day and night. We do not know what more The future has in store. What bitterer tears May come with years. But with set teeth we stand To guard our Empire land. To dare and spend Unto the end. So, critic, since for you Our sons are fighting too, Your railing cease And give us — PEACE. Quebec, 1901. INSCRIPTION ON SOLDIERS' MONUMENT, QUEBEC Not by the power of Commerce, Art, or Pen, Shall our great Empire stand ; nor has it stood But by the noble deeds of noble men. Heroic lives, and Heroes' outpoured blood. REQUIESCAT i8i REQUIESCAT General Gordon O THOU twice hero — hero in thy Hfe And in thy death — we have no power to crown Thy nobleness ; we weep thine arm in strife ; We weep, but glory in thy life laid down. There comes no voice from Egypt, none did stand Beside thee fall'n ; as who the winepress trod. Thou wert alone ; thy face is hid in sand. And thy last moments in the ear of God. Dying as thou didst, no stone can guard thy name, No storied marble mark thy dust beneath. What need ? The whole world knows thee, speaks thy fame. And all the world hath shuddered at thy death. Hath shuddered ; yet the stroke that laid thee low Shall wring men's hearts with envy, and new eyes, Age after age, shall kindle in the glow Of thy great life and life's self-sacrifice. We cannot dream the days of glory passed, That England bears no heroes in her age ; Strong honour lives, and breathed in thee, the last And greatest hero on her history's page. i82 WILLIAM M'KINLEY Saint ! hero ! through the clouds of doubt that loom O'er darkling skies, thy life hath power to bless ; We thank thee thou hast shown us in the gloom Once more Christ's power and childlike manliness. 1885. WILLIAM M'KINLEY A Tribute of Kindred Brother of kings and king of brother men, Hero and martyr, lo ! thou dost not sleep. Thy dauntless soul, beyond our mortal ken, Pursues life's journey through the eternal deep. Elsewhere, not here, lives on the lofty aim, The iron purpose of a steadfast life. The strong, brave heart that forged a deathless name. The tender love of duty, land and wife. O mighty Sister in our royal line, America ! guard well his sacred dust. Thy grief is ours, e'en as our blood is thine — We twain who hold the great world's peace in trust. September 14, 190 1. THE EXCEEDING BITTER CRY 183 THE EXCEEDING BITTER CRY January 1897 From the lands burnt dead with sunshine, where our fathers fought and bled, And have reaped a golden harvest, comes a cry to us for bread ; For the millions, famine-stricken, starve and sicken in despair. And the glazing eyes of famine see the vultures in the air. Shall we shut up human pity ? Shall they cry to us in vain ? Shall we sate ourselves with plenty, while they perish in their pain ? Can we kneel and say ' Our Father,' — can our spirits hope for rest, While the babe lies dead from starving on its starving mother's breast ? They are black, — but they are brothers, and they suffer pain as we. And the four great winds of heaven bring the death- cries o'er the sea ; They are black, — but they are brothers, and the flag of England stands Where the dead forms, drawn together, dry and whiten (m the sands. i84 THE EXCEEDING BITTER CRY Lion-blooded sons of England, breathing glory as your breath, Up and gird you now, my brothers, for a giant strife with death ; By the flag we guard unsullied, by the God that reigns above. Rise and bind our might}' empire with the bands of human love. WAHONOMIN 185 WAHONOMIN The Indians' Jubilee Hymn to the Queen Great mother ! from the depths of forest wilds, From mountain pass and burning sunset plain. We, thine unlettered children of the woods, Upraise to thee the everlasting hymn Of nature, language of the skies and seas. Voice of the birds and sighings of the pine In wintry wastes. We know none other tongue. Nor the smooth speech that, like the shining leaves. Hides the rough stems beneath. We bring our song, Wood-fragrant, rough, yet autumn-streaked with love. And lay it as a tribute at thy feet. But should it vex thee thus to hear us sing, Sad in the universal joy that crowns This year of years, and shouldst thou deem our voice But death-cry of the ages that are past, Bear with us — say, ' My children of the woods. In language learnt from bird and wood and stream, From changing moons and stars and misty lakes. Pour forth their love, and lay it at my feet ; The voice is wild and strange, untuned to ear Of majesty, ill-timed to fevered pulse Of this young age, and meteor-souls that flash New paths upon night's dome ; yet will I hear This singing of my children ere they die.' Great mother ! thou art wise, they say, and good. And reignest like the moon in autumn skies, i86 WAHONOMIN The world about thy feet. We have not seen Thy face, nor the wild seas of life that surge Around thy throne ; but we have stood by falls, Deep-shadowed in the silence of the woods, And heard the water-thunders, and have said, ' Thus is the voice of men about our Queen. What is the red man but the forest stream. The cry of screech-owl in the desert wilds ? This flood that overflows the hills and plains Is not for us. Back, Westward, Northward, Q.y, Up to eternal winter 'neath the stars, Our path must be in silence, till the snows And sun and wind have bleached our children's bones. The red must go ; the axe and plough and plane Are not for him. We perish with the pine, We vanish in the silence of the woods ; Our footsteps, like the war-trail in the snow. Grow fainter while the new spring buds with life.' Great mother ! the white faces came with words Of love and hope, and pointed to the skies, And in the sunrise splendour set the throne Of the Great Spirit, and upon the cross Showed us His Son, and asked a throne for Him. Their speech was music ; but in camp at night We brooded o'er the matter round the fire. The shadowy pines about us, and the stars, Set in the silent heavens, looking down. We brooded o'er the matter days and years. For thus each thought and thus each spake in words : ' We children of the woods have lived and died In these our forests, since the first moon tipped Their thousand lakes and rivers with her beams. Pale silver in the fading sky of even. WAHONOMIN 187 Our fathers' faces kindled in the glow Of setting suns ; the}' read the starlit sky ; They heard the Spirit's breathing on the storm, And on the quaking earth they felt His tread ; But never yet the story of His Son Was wafted to them from the sighing woods, Or bird or stream. Our fathers' God is ours ; And as for these new words, we watch and wait,' Great mother ! we have waited days and 3'ears, Through spring and summer — summer, autumn, spring; Brooding in silence, for anon we dreamed A bird's voice in our hearts half sung, ' 'Tis true.' We listened and we watched the pale-face come, When, lo ! new gods came with them — gods of iron And fire, that shook the forests as they rushed, Filling with thunder and loud screeching, plains. Mountains, and woods, and dimming with their breath The shining skies. These new gods, who were they, That came devouring all, and blackening earth And sky with smoke and thunder ? We knew not, But fled in terror further from the face Of these white children and their gods of iron ; We heard no more their story of the Son, And words of love. Their own lives were not love. But war concealed and fire beneath the ash. Thus ever now the burden of our speech — We perish with the pine tree and the bird. We vanish in the silence of the woods. The white man's hunting-ground, it is not ours ; We care not for his gods of iron and fire ; Our home is in the trackless wilds, the depths Of mountain solitudes, by starlit lakes, By noise of waters in the unchanging woods. i88 WAHONOMIN Great mother ! we have wondered that thy sons, Thy pale sons, should have left thy side and come To these wild plains, and sought the haunts of bears And red men. Why their battle with the woods ? Whither they go upon their gods of iron, Out of the golden sunrise to the mists Of purple evening in the setting west ? Their lives have scarce as many moons as ours, Nor happier are. We know not what they seek ; For death's cold finger chills their fevered life, As in the wilds he stills the meanest worm. And death flies with them over all their paths. And waits them in the heart of wildest waste ; They cannot break his power. Forgive these thoughts If, as they rise like mists, they dim the gold That zones thy brow. They came to us at night. As we have sat in council round the fire ; They seemed the echo of the sighing pines Far in our soul. One evening rose a chief. White-headed, bowed with years, one hand on staff. One on death's arm, preparing for the way. ' My sons,' he said, ' these people are not wise. We bide our time, and they will pass away ; Then shall the red man come like bird in spring. And build the broken camp, and hunt and fish In his old woods. These people pass away ; For I have thought through many nights and days. And wondered what they seek ; and now I know, And knowing, say these people are not wise. They found these plains beneath the burning west. And westward, ever westward, still they press, Seeking the shining meadows of the land Where the sun sleeps, and, folded 'neath his wings. The happy spirits breathe eternal day. WAHONOMIN 189 But I have lived through five score changing years, And I have talked with wintry-headed chiefs, And I have heard that kingdom is not reached Through woods and plains, but by the bridge of death. This people is not wise : we bide our time.' Great mother ! they have told us that the snows Of fifty winters sleep about thy throne, And buds of spring now blossom with sweet breath Beneath thy tread. They tell us of the sea. And other lands, where other children dwell ; Of mighty cities and the gleam of gold, Of empires wider than the shining plains Viewed from giant hill, that lift thy throne above The clouded mountain-tops. They tell us, too, Of wonders in the home of man ; of gods Of iron and fire made servants, and of fire Snatched from the clouds to flash man's swiftest thought ; But these are not for us. The forest flower Droops in the haunts of man ; it needs the sky, And smokeless air, and glances of the sun Through rustling leaves. We perish with the woods ; The plains are all before thee. Send thy sons To plant and build, and drive their flashing gods, Startling the forests, till, like ocean's bounds. Thine empire rolls in splendour from wide east To widest west, broad fields of gold for thee And thy white children ; but our spirits wait Amid the silent ages, and we pass To where our fathers dwell, by silent streams. And hunt in trackless wilds through cloudless days. The wheels of thy great empire, as it moves From east to west, from south to icy north. Crush us to earth. We perish with the woods. igo WAHONOMIN Great mother, if the changing moons have brought Thee nearer to the darksome bridge that spans The gulf between this and the eternal day, If thy path and thy children's be the same. And thy feet follow where thy fathers went, Perchance thy soul upon earth's utmost verge, The eternal sky about thee, and the deeps Unfathomable beyond — perchance thy soul. Grown weary with the fever of thy life, May yearn for song of bird, and sighing pine, And silent meditation of the woods ; Perchance, when, looking back from infinite skies To restless man, thy soul, too, echoes, ' Why ? ' ' Where ? ' and ' Whither ? ' and thy heart may love This death-song of thy children, ere they pass With bird and forest to the silent land. Perchance the white face told us what was true, And love and hope wait by the throne of God. The ruffled lake gives out but broken gleams Of the clear stars above ; so, restless life May be the troubled reflex of the skies. The world rolls onward, ever on and on, Through clouded vast and moans of dying years, Into the depths of sunset ; but the light Blinds our dim eyes, we cannot see the goal. The spirit of the world is not for us ; We perish with the pine tree and the bird ; We bow our heads in silence. We must die. 1887. RELIGIOUS AND DEVOTIONAL VERSES THE SOUL'S QUEST Part I In the land that is neither night nor day, Where the mists sleep over the forests grey, A sad, sad spirit wandered away. The woods are still — no brooks, no wind. No fair green meadows can she find ; But a low red light in the sky behind. Far over the plain, to the spirit's sight. The city's towers are black as night. Against the edge of the low red light. This side the city in darkness lies, But westward, at the glowing skies, It glares with a thousand fiery eyes. The road is long, the hedgerows bare, There 's the chill of death in the silent air, And a glimmer of darkness everywhere. ' O sad, sad spirit, what thy quest, With those flowing locks and that shadowy vest ? ' The spirit answers, ' I seek for rest.' ^ 103 194 THE SOUL'S QUEST ' Where seekest rest, when the air is cold On the long, dim road, and the clock hath tolled The muffled hours from the belfry old ? ' Where seekest rest through the twilight grey Of the mists that sleep on the woods alway ? ' ' I seek to-morrow or yesterday ! ' Her face is pale, her feet are bare, Her sad dark eyes, wide open, stare At the glimmering darkness everywhere. To those cheeks no rose hath summer brought, But on their pallor time hath wrought The troubled lines of an after-thought. Her arms are crossed upon her breast. Her round limbs shape the shadowy vest. And thus, all silent, seeks she rest. Her tread is light on the cold, hard road ; For the tread may be light, yet heavy the load Of grief at the heart and thoughts that goad. She plucks a leaf from the roadway side. And under its shade two violets hide — Her hand is cold as of one that hath died. She twines the violets in her hair ; They have no scent — she does not care, For the glimmer of darkness is ever3Avhere. And on through the dim of the twilight grey. While the pale sky gloweth far away, She seeks to-morrow or yesterday. THE SOUL'S QUEST 195 Part II ' O Abbess, Abbess, the air is chill ! I heard the chaunting over the hill, Like an angel's voice when the soul is still. ' Abbess, open wide thy gate ! Out on the cold, dim road I wait, A spirit lone and desolate. ' Take thou these hands and these weary feet, Cold as a corpse in its winding-sheet. For the song of the nuns was so strange and sweet. ' Here with the sisters let me dwell, Under these walls, in the loneliest cell. Waiting the sound of the matin bell. ' Cut off these locks of flowing hair. Cover with weeds this bosom bare. For the glimmer of darkness is everywhere. ' Ask not my name, nor whence my way, For the mist sleeps over the wood alway. And I seek to-morrow or yesterday.' She 's passed within the chapel door ; The nuns are kneeling on the floor. But a low wind moaneth evermore. High in the roof the echoes ring, As sweeter and sweeter the sisters sing, For they know that God is listening. 196 THE SOUL'S QUEST ' Ave Maria, hear our cry, As the shadows roll across the sky, For those that live and those that die ! ' Ave Maria, Virgin blest. Help the sin-stained and distrest, Give the weary-hearted rest ! ' Ave Maria, who didst bear Jesus in this world of care, Grant us all thy bliss to share ! ' From arch to arch the echoes ring. Sweeter and sweeter the sisters sing. For they know that God is listening. Out of the north the oceans roll. Washing the lands from pole to pole : No rest — no rest for the old world's soul. The after-glow of suns that set O'er fields with morning dew once wet. Where all life's flowering roadways met. Long shadows of our joys has sent, Sloping adown the way we went Towards darkness where our feet are bent. Is it the moan of the evening wind ? Or the voice of the ocean in the mind, While the pale red light looms up behind ? Is it moan of wind, or convent bell, Or cry of the ocean ? I cannot tell ; But a voice in her heart has locked the spell. THE SOUL'S QUEST 197 She does not hear the organ's swell ; In vain she strives her beads to tell, For a voice in her heart has locked the spell. She broods among the tangled fears, The undergrowth of perished years. That darken round the lake of tears. Silent and dank, they fringe the brim Of waters motionless and dim, Unmoved by wings of Seraphim. No lights on the altar the spirit sees. The cloistered aisles are but leafless trees. And the music, the sigh of the evening breeze. No matin or vesper bell for her ; The leafless branches never stir In the pale, pale light of the days that were. No matin or vesper hymn or prayer Can shut those eyes' wide-open stare At the glimmering darkness everywhere. The sweetest singing dies away ; No note of birds for those who stray In the land that is neither night nor day. Part III In the shadowy light of the silent land, With the tall gaunt hedges on either hand. On the long, dim road doth the spirit stand. igS THE SOUL'S QUEST Under the hedges the air is chill, And the mists sleep over the forest still, And are folded like wings on the sides of the hill. Her arms are crossed upon her breast. Her round limbs shape the shadowy vest, Her feet are worn with seeking rest. To her cheeks no rose hath summer brought, While on their pallor time hath wrought The troubled lines of an after-thought. But sweet is the gaze of those sad dark eyes. And sweet their look of mute surprise. As something in the road she spies. Spumed under foot, o'ergrown with moss, Counted of foolish men but loss. On the cold, hard road lies Jesus' cross. In the dim twilight as she stood. She saw the marks of Jesus' Blood, Then stooped and kissed the Holy Rood. There are sounds of joy from the years gone by. There 's a pale red light in the forward sky. And a star looks down through the mist on high. Hush ! for the light falls clear from that star, Hush ! for the day-dawn kindles afar, Hush ! for the gate of the sky is ajar. What is the voice of the boundless sea As it clasps the lands in an ecstasy ? Not the voice of the dead, but of what shall be— THE SOUL'S QUEST 199 Of what shall be when the world shall cease, And oceans die in the reign of peace. When God grants pardon and release. O sweetest taste of Jesus' Blood ! Joy bursts upon her like a flood ; The spirit kisseth Holy Rood. A low wind moaneth evermore, The nuns still kneel upon the floor. But Jesus trod this way before. She lifts the sacred emblem up : This was His drink, His bitter cup ; And all His loved with Him must sup. Beneath its arms she bows her head, Those arms so rudely fashioned. Which Jesus made His dying bed. She bends beneath the cross's weight, But now no longer desolate. She stands before the convent gate. Sweeter and sweeter the sisters sing, From arch and roof the echoes ring, While God above is listening. ' Ave Maria, Virgin blest, Help the sin-stained and distrest, Grant the weary-hearted rest ! ' The altar-lights are shining fair, And Jesus' cross is standing there ; The darkness brightens everywhere. 200 THE SOUL'S QUEST In silent bliss the spirit kneels, For mortal utterance half conceals The deepest joy the bosom feels. She bears her burden day by day ; It wakens her at morning grey, And calms her at eve's setting ray. She bears it through the length of years ; The rough wood drives away her fears, The blood-stains check all earthly tears. Through daily round of deed and psalm. She moves in silent strength and calm, The cross her solace and her balm. She bears it round from door to door. And lonely hearts that ached before, Find joy and peace for evermore. So in the present, people say. Of holy deed and prayer alway, She finds to-morrow and yesterday. COGGESHALL, EsSEX, November 12, 1886. CALVARY 201 CALVARY O SORROWFUL heart of humanity, foiled in thy light for dominion, Bowed with the burden of emptiness, blackened with passion and woe ; Here is a faith that will bear thee on waft of omni- potent pinion, Up to the heaven of victory, there to be known and to know. Here is the vision of Calvary, crowned with the world's revelation. Throned in the grandeur of gloom and the thunders that quicken the dead ; A meteor of hope in the darkness shines forth like a new constellation, Dividing the night of our sorrow, revealing a path as we tread. Now are the portals of death by the feet of the Con- queror entered ; Flames of the sun in his setting roll over the city of doom, And robe in imperial purple the Body triumphantly centred, Naked and white between thieves and 'mid ghosts that have crept from the tomb. 202 CALVARY O Soul, that art lost in immensity, craving for light and despairing. Here is the hand of the Crucified, pulses of love in its veins, Human as ours in its touch, with the sinews of Deity bearing The zones of the pendulous planets, the weight of the winds and the rains. Here in the Heart of the Crucified, find thee a refuge and hiding, Love at the core of the universe, guidance and peace in the night ; Centuries pass like a flood, but the Rock of our Strength is abiding. Grounded in depths of eternity, girt with a mantle of light. Lo, as we wonder and worship, the night of the doubts that conceal Him, Rolls from the face of the dawn till His rays through the cloud-fissures slope ; Vapours that hid are condensed to the dews of His grace that reveal Him, And shine with His light on the hills as we mount in the splendour of hope. AT LAUDS 203 AT LAUDS 'Tis sweet to wake before the dawn, When all the cocks are crowing, And from my window on the lawn, To watch the veil of night withdrawn, And feel the fresh wind blowing. The murmur of the falls I hear. Its night-long vigil keeping ; And softly now, as if in fear To rouse their neighbours slumbering near, The trees wake from their sleeping. Dear Lord, such wondrous thoughts of Thee My raptured soul are filling, That, hke a bird upon the tree, With sweet yet wordless minstrelsy My inmost heart is thrilling. 204 THE EVERLASTING FATHER THE EVERLASTING FATHER Thou whose face is as the Hghtning and whose chariot as the sun, Unto whom a thousand ages in their passing are as one. All our worlds and mighty systems are but tiny grains of sand, Held above the gulfs of chaos in the hollow of Thy hand. Yea, we see Thy power about us, and we feel its volumes roll Through the torrent of our passions and the stillness of the soul. Where its visions light the darkness till the dawn that is to be. Like the long auroral splendours on a silent polar sea. Then uplift us, great Creator, to communion with Thy will, Crush our puny heart-rebellions, make our baser cravings still. Thou whose fingers through the ages wrought with fire the soul of man. Blend it more and more for ever with the purpose of Thy plan. Speak, O Lord, in voice of thunder, show Thy foot- steps on the deep. Pour Thy sunshine from the heavens on the blinded eyes that weep. Till the harmonies of nature and exalted human love Make the universe a mirror of the glorious God above. HYMN 205 HYMN ' Behold, I stand at the door, and knock.'— Rev. iii. 20. I HEARD a voice at midnight, and it cried, ' O weary heart, O soul for which I died. Why wilt thou spurn My wounded hands and side ? ' Is there a heart more tender, more divine, Than that sad heart which gave itself for thine ? Could there be love more warm, more full than Mine ? ' What other touch can still thy trembling breath ? What other hand can hold thee after death ? What bread so sweet to him that hungereth ? ' Warm is thy chamber, soft and warm thy bed ; Bleak, howling winds are round the path I tread ; — The Son of man can nowhere lay His head. ' Wilt thou not open to Me ? To and fro I wander, weary, through the driving snow ; But colder still that thou wouldst spurn Me so. ' I have a crown more bright than all that be, I have a kingdom wider than the sea ; But both have I abandoned, seeking thee. ' Poor weary heart, so worn and sad within ! Oh, open to thy Friend, thy Stay from sin, That I, with all My love, may enter in.' I heard a voice at midnight, and I cried, ' O Lord, I need Thy wounded hands and side — I need Thy love, — Lord, enter and abide.' 1883. 2o6 OUR DUTY OUR DUTY The great world's heart is aching, aching fiercely in the night, And God alone can heal it, and God alone give light ; And the men to bear that message, and to speak the living word. Are you and I, my brothers, and the millions that have heard. Can we close our eyes to duty ? Can we fold out hands While the gates of night stand open to the pathways of the seas ? Can we shut up our compassions ? Can we leave one prayer unsaid. Till the lands which Hell has blasted have been quickened from the dead ? We grovel among trifles and our spirits fret and toss. While above us burns the vision of the Christ upon the Cross ; And the blood of God is streaming from His broken hands and side. And the lips of God are saying, ' Tell my brothers I have died.' O Voice of God, we hear Thee above the shocks of time. Thine echoes roll around us, and the message is sublime ; No power of man shall thwart us, no stronghold shall dismay. When God commands obedience and love has led the way. May 1909. CRUCIFIXION 207 CRUCIFIXION ' Lord, must I bear the whole of it, or none ? ' ' Even as I was crucified, My son.' ' Will it suffice if I the thorn-crown wear ? ' ' To take the scourge My shoulders were made bare.' ' My hands, O Lord, must I be pierced in both ? ' ' Twain gave I to the hammer, nothing loth.' ' But sure, O Lord, my feet need not be nailed ? ' ' Had Mine not been, then love had not prevailed.' ' What need I more, O Lord, to fill my part ? ' ' Only the spear-point in thy broken heart.' May 8, 1909. 2o8 EVOLUTION EVOLUTION Thou stand's! complete in every part. An individual of thy kind ; But whence thou earnest, what thou art, Didst ever ask thee of thy mind ? Thou claim'st a portion of God's earth ; Thou say'st to all men, ' This is I ' ; Thou hast a date to mark thy birth. And other date when thou shalt die. Thy years are in the planets' years ; A space in all that mighty span, A little space of smiles and tears, Is writ in shining letters — ' Man.' Thou hear'st the mighty ocean roll. Thou seest death on every hand ; There loom strange phantoms in thy soul, And boundless heavens arch the land. Thy feet are on the sand and clay, Which once had other growths than these, And in the great world's yesterday. Heard murmurs of the tropic seas. Life out of death, death out of life, In endless cycles rolling on, And fire-gleams flashing from the strife Of what will come and what has gone. EVOLUTION 209 A perfect whole, a perfect plan, A}^ doubtless, in the perfect mind, An onward march since time began. With yet no laggard left behind. All blended in a wondrous chain, Each link the fittest for its place ; The stronger made to bear the strain, The weaker formed to give it grace. But what art thou and what am I ? What place is ours in all this scheme ? What is it to be bom and die ? Are we but phases in a dream. That earth or some prime mother dreams. Folded away in crimson skies ? Or are we dazzled with the beams Of light too strong for new-bom eyes ? Certes, we are not very much ; We cannot cause ourselves to be ; Not even the limbs by which we touch Are really owned by thee and me. But they were fashioned years ago. Ay, centuries ; since earth's natal mom, The wondering ages saw them grow. Till our time came and we were bom. And we are present, future, past — Shall live again, have lived before. Like billows on the beaches cast Of tides that flow for evermore, o 210 EVOLUTION And yet thou say est, ' This is I ; I am marked off from all my kind ; I look not to the by-and-by ; I care not for what lies behind.' That may be so ; but to mine eyes A being of wondrous make thou art — The point at which infinities Converge, touch, and for ever part. Thou canst not unmake what has been, Nor hold back that which is to come ; We dwell upon the waste between, In the small ' now ' which is our home. ' Though this be so,' thou answerest, ' still I feel and know myself to be ; Thy creed would make the perfect will In God's sight like a stone or tree.' Ah no ! for stone and tree are one, And perfect will bears different fruit ; The will is grander than the sun. The body brother to the brute. But in the ages thou shalt be A link from unknown to unknown, A bridge across a darkling sea, A light on the world's pathway thrown. Ay, such is man — a moan in sleep ; A passing dream ; he thinks and is, And then falls back into the deep Where other deeps call unto this. EVOLUTION 211 But in that thinking, in that pause, That dream which did so Httle yield, There met a universe of laws, And branched out into wider field. We live not for ourselves — ah no ! We do not live ; man lives in us. The race dwells in us ; even so The race will live, though we pass thus. The forces that have fashioned thee Have rolled through space since time began — Have ranged the heavens, the earth, the sea. And in God's time have made thee man. And so to further goal they move. When thou hast passed from mortal sight ; To fashion beings that will prove More wondrous still, more full of light. We are the foam-crest on the wave, Lit for a moment by the sun ; A moment thus we toss and rave. Then fall back when our day is done. Thou then art twain — the force that builds The broad foundations of the race. And separate light from God that gilds The soul with individual grace. God looks at both : the one displays The laws that work His purpose still ; The other thine own spirit sways. And here God asks the perfect will. 212 EVOLUTION I would not have thee think the less Of this small part which is man's soul, Nor miss the exceeding blessedness Of knowing thyself a separate whole. ' What proof,' thou say est, ' if this be true. That thou and I survive the shock Which summons all we are and do To credit of the primal stock ? ' If I and thou a moment are Conscious of self, of touch, of sight, Then vanish like a falling star. And sink in everlasting night, * What proof that in the overthrow The thing that says, knows, " This is I," WiU not pass with the rest, and go Dissolved into the vast supply ? ' Though formed of elemental dust, And moulded through such countless years. We perish not with these, but must Survive the rolling of the spheres. We must, I say ; for what most high In man ? Is 't not the subtle part. The power which tells me, ' This is I ; I am not everything thou art ' ? Would God have laboured then and wrought With fire and water, life and death, And through the weary cycles brought A creature with the vital breath, EVOLUTION 213 And breathed such power within his soul, And crowned him with such wondrous grace, And said, ' Go forth from pole to pole. And meet thy brother face to face,' If this strange power were meant to sink Back into chaos or be lost. Or cast off as a broken link. Or die like wave along the coast ? Not that God's way. On — ever on, To nobler, purer, higher things ; From out the ages that are gone Each newer, grander era springs. So nought is lost, but all must pass, And life through varied stages move, From the pale fungus in the grass, To deepest depths of light and love. And we must pass — we shall not die, Changed and transformed, but still the same, To grander heights of mystery. To fairer realms than whence we came. God will not let His work be lost ; Too wondrous is the mind of man. Too many ages it has cost The huge fulfilment of His plan. But on we pass, for ever on. Through death to other deaths and life, To brighter lights when these arc gone, To broader thought, more glorious strife, 214 EVOLUTION To vistas opening out of these ; To wonders shining from afar, Above the surging of the seas, Above the course of moon and star ; To higher powers of will and deed, All bounds, all limits left behind ; To truths undreamt in any creed ; To deeper love, more God-like mind. For this, the sky and sea and earth God moulded with His ice and fire ; For this the ages gave us birth. And filled our hearts with mad desire. Great God ! we move into the vast ; All questions vain — the shadows come ; We hear no answer from the past ; The years before us all are dumb. We trust Thy purpose and Thy will. We see afar the shining goal ; Forgive us if there linger still Some human fear within the soul ! Forgive us, if, when crumbles in The world that we have loved and known, With forms so fair to us, we sin By eyes averted from Thy throne ! Forgive us, if, with thoughts too wild, And eyes too dim to pierce the gloom. We shudder like a frightened child That enters at a darkened room ! EVOLUTION 215 Forgive us, if, when dies away All human sound upon our ears, We hear not, in the swift decay, Thy loving voice to calm our fears ! But lo ! the dawn of fuller days ; Horizon-glories fringe the sky ! Our feet would climb the shining ways To meet man's widest destiny. Come, then, all sorrow's recompense ! The kindling sky is flaked with gold ; Above the shattered screen of sense, A voice like thunder cries, ' Behold ! ' 1887. 2i6 HYMN HYMN After the Prayer of Consecration We hail Thee now, O Jesu, Upon Thine Altar-throne, Though sight and touch have failed us, And faith perceives alone ! Thy love has veiled Thy Godhead, And hid Thy power divine. In mercy to our weakness. Beneath an earthly sign. We hail Thee now, O Jesu ! In silence hast Thou come ; For all the hosts of heaven With wonderment are dumb — So great the condescension, So marvellous the love. Which for our sakes, O Saviour, Have drawn Thee from above. We hail Thee now, O Jesu ! For law and type have ceased, And Thou in each Communion Art Sacrifice and Priest ; We make this great Memorial In union, Lord, with Thee, And plead Thy death and passion To cleanse and set us free. HYMN 217 We hail Thee now, O Jesu ! For death is drawing near, And in Thy presence only Its terrors disappear. Dwell with us, sweetest Saviour, And guide us through the night. Till shadows end in glory, And faith be lost in sight. Amen. 1886. 2i8 HYMN HYMN After receiving the Holy Communion I HAVE Thee now, O Jesu, Enshrined within my soul, In all Thy love and fulness. With power to make me whole. Though cold and so unworthy. Though weak and stained with sin. I opened to Thee, Jesu, And Thou hast entered in. I have Thee now, O Jesu ! And oh, the thrill divine To feel that Thou art in me, To know that Thou art mine ! I have Thee, too, O Jesu, As pledge of future bliss ; But faith is lost in wonder At rapture more than this. I have Thee now, O Jesu ! Purge all my dross away, Light up my inmost being With Thy full flood of day ; Do Thou, O Lord, shine through me In all my words and ways, Till others catch Thy glory. And join in endless praise. HYMN 219 I have Thee now, O Jesu ! Oh, never more depart ! Grant that no fresh offences Shall drive Thee from my heart ; Till down the long, dark valley, The path which Thou hast trod. There dawns in cloudless splendour The vision of my God. Amen. 1886. 220 HYMN HYMN Cast thy care on Jesus, Make Him now thy friend, Tell Him all thy troubles. Trust Him to the end ; He is Man and Brother, He is Lord and God, And the way of sorrows Is the path He trod. Cast thy care on Jesus, Nothing is too small For His vast compassion, He can feel for all ; In the gloom and darkness Clasp His living hand, He will guide and cheer thee Through the desert land. Cast thy care on Jesus, Tell Him all thy sin, All thy fierce temptations And the wrong within ; He Himself was tempted, And He pleads above For the soul that asketh Pardon through His love. LINES 221 Cast th}^ care on Jesus, What is death to those Who in deep submission On His love repose ; But a short step further, Nearer to His side, Where their eyes shall see Him And be satisfied. LINES I SOMETIMES think that had I seen Thy face In those old days when Thou wast with us here. Clothed with our flesh, a man as we are men, The very sight had filled my soul with grace ; I should have clung to Thee, and not again Moved from Thy side, no lurking doubt or fear Could drive me from so sweet a hiding-place. So think I sometimes, and would almost pray That other age were chosen my faith to prove, More near Thine own (if such a prayer might be) , Full of Thy memories. But no ; each day Hath its own light, O Christ, and proofs of Thee ; For there was one who saw Thy look of love, Yet, having wealth, went sorrowful away. 1884. 222 THE CROWN OF THORNS HYMN Hail, sacred Feast, to weary mortals given, Pledge of God's love ! O Christ, we here adore Thee, the slain Lamb, and Thee, the Bread from Heaven — Our life and peace, our joy for evermore. Feed us, dear Lord, Thine own great love supplying Our lack of faith, our need of every grace ; Dwell in us richly, till, on Thee relying. We reach our home and see Thee face to face. 1884. THE CROWN OF THORNS With each new day, new cares will wait for thee, Trials and heart-aches ; yet do thou not fear. But take them lovingly, and, weaving them Into a crown of thorns, wear and let be For ever on thy head, a diadem. More royal than gold, the dearest token here Of that sad voice that whispers, ' Follow Me.' 1884. ' AD ECCLESIAM DEI ' 223 ' AD ECCLESIAM DEI ' Church of God, our Mother, Upon th}^ queenly head There broods the hving Spirit Whom Christ Himself has shed ; No more the dark dissensions, The day of doubt is done, When dangers gather round thee Thy children stand as one. O Church of God, our Mother, Forgive the shameful past. The worldly hearts that chilled thee, The chains that bound thee fast ; Behold, from the horizon The clouds have rolled away, And now with clearer vision Men own thy gracious sway. O Church of God, our Mother, So bright thine annals shine, The ages hold no triumphs More wonderful than thine. Thou didst in old times cradle Our rude and warlike race, Thy sons are kings of honour. Thy daughters queens of grace. 224 ' AD ECCLESIAM DEI ' O Church of God, our Mother, The new dawn rises fair, And broader paths of glory Are opening everywhere ; Beyond the ocean's thunders. As in the olden days, Thy creeds give faith her utterance. Thy voice her prayer and praise. O Church of God, our Mother, God's wings are o'er thee spread, And loyal sons are ready For thee their blood to shed ; No more the dark dissensions, The day of doubt is done. And round thee in the battle Thy children stand as one. IN MEMORIAM 225 IN MEMORIAM A. H. Mackonochie Two watchers sit beside the dead ; From hour to hour no prayer is said, For they are dumb and he is dead ; And snows are curhng round his head, While God's white wings are overspread. None heard the sad heart's stifled crj' — None, save the two dogs sitting by, And Him that watcheth in the sky. It passed, that agonising cry. In gloom as deep as Calvary ! None saw the last look on that face Where men once read such love and grace ; No hand was nigh to smooth the trace Of anguish on that pallid face. The patient hero wins the race Alone in God's great dwelling-place. Earth folded him with gentle hands In Nature's whitest swathing-bands ; A snow-veil on his face and hands, And silence on those northern lands. Through cloud-rift in the west expands A light from where God's temple stands. P 226 THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES The new-born soul in Paradise Forgets the snow and wintry skies — Forgets, in sunny Paradise, The dying body's agonies. Lord, keep him till that form shall rise To meet Thee coming in the skies ! 1888. THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES Christ sat upon the mountain side. The blue sky overhead, Beneath, in heaven's own colours dyed. The lake's stiU bosom spread. Some sparrows fluttered through the sky, A breath the lilies stirred. Far off a boat went drifting by With white wings like a bird. But, heedless of the sea and shore, Christ turned aside to greet The weary hearts who came to pour Their sorrows at His feet. I ponder o'er the scene so fair Upon my bended knee, Until I dream that I am there. And, lo, Christ looks at me. THE EUCHARIST 227 THE EUCHARIST My children, daily in your Church I stand, And bring you priceless blessings in My hand, — The Food and Drink which make the spirit live, The pardon that none else hath power to give. What holds you back ? Why do ye keep away ? Do ye not need fresh grace from day to day ? Your couch so soft, find ye it hard to rise ? My couch was earth. My covering was the skies. Perchance ye fear the dark and wintry street ; I toiled for you with woni and bleeding feet. Perchance ye think ye are not in My debt ; What more could I have given you than ye get ? Surely My bitter cross is in your view ; That cross was borne, not for Myself, but you. If sense of your unfitness holds you back, Who but Myself can give you what ye lack ? What if that day ye come not to My board. Should bring the swift, sharp summons of your Lord? 228 THE PRAYER BOOK My children, be not fearful, come to Me Like Peter walking on the treacherous sea. Children, I stand amongst you day by day ; Oh, if ye love Me, do not keep away. THE PRAYER BOOK Child, if thou wilt, my winged words shall rise And bear thy thoughts above the starlit skies ; While through my leaves the clarion echoes roll Of God's eternal message to the soul. JUSTIN 229 JUSTIN ' 9e6s Tjf 6 \6yos . . . Kal 6 \6yos cap^ iyhero.' Down by the sea, in infinite solitude And wrapt in darkness, save when gleams of light Broke from the moon aslant the hurrying clouds That fled the wind, lay Justin, worn with grief, And heart-sick with vain searching after God. He heeded not the cold white foam that crept In silence round his feet, nor the tall sedge That sighed like lonely forest round his head ; His heart was weary of this weight of being. Weary of all the mystery of life. Weary of all the littleness of men. And the dark riddle that he could not solve — Why men should be, why pain and sin and death, And where were hid the lineaments of God. No voice was near. Behind, a lofty cape. Whose iron face was scarred by many a storm, Loomed threatening in the dark, and cleft the main, And laid its giant hand upon the deep. One grizzled oak-tree crowned it, and the surf Broke ever at its base, with ceaseless roar, Powerless to mar its silent majesty. Sweet was the loneliness to Justin, sweet Perturbed nature, as in harmony With the dark thoughts that beat upon his soul. Nor speechless long he lay. The tide of grief, O'crflowing the narrow limits of the mind, 230 JUSTIN Broke from him, and in burning words he cried : ' O God, if God there be in this foul chase ! O Fate, if Fate it be that drives us thus ! Chance, if it be Thou that mouldeth all ! Stern Power, whate'er Thy name, that sit'st sublime Above creation, throned, creation's Lord, With feet upon the spheres, whose flaming arms Scatter new worlds from age to age, to roll Through the dim cycles of all time, to bloom Into warm life — what iron law impels, Or wanton cruelty in the eternal deep Of mind supreme, Thee to send sin and death To prey thus on the creatures of Thine hands, Until the white skulls crumble back to earth From whence they sprung ? O Chance ! O Fate ! O God! My soul is broken with the clang of worlds ; The universe is discord all to me. 1 see dark planets roll o'er human graves, I feel them quivering with the cries of souls ; I know no more. O Power, whose face is veiled From man in Thine own greatness, — Thou, whom I Through weary years have sought, but sought in vain, In every shadow upon every hill. In the sweet features of a child, or on The illimitable sea, in heat, in cold, And in the rain that clothes the earth with buds, And in the breath of things invisible. Till, worn and helpless, now I long for death, — Let me before I die hear some still voice (If such indeed there be), some undertone That, flowing from eternity through all The jarring voices that now rend the soul, Shall blend them into one long harmony : So let me hearing die, and dying rest.' JUSTIN 231 He ceased, and, sweet as after day of storm Flows the still sea at even — the winds and waves Asleep in purple mists — a silence crept Over the worlds and flooded Justin's soul ; And in the silence Justin heard a voice And the warm throbbing of a human heart. And through the darkness moved the form of Christ, White-robed, with crown of thorns and those sad eyes That saw His Mother weep beside the cross. Then from innumerable throats uprose One glorious music, one great hymn of praise. But that which ran through all, and linked them all In one long harmony — that undertone Which made them music — was the voice of Christ And the soft beating of His human heart. A calm light stole on Justin, and a peace. Unknown before, unutterable, deep Within the spirit's depths — a new-born sense. As though his heart had eyes, and every eye Saw God through all in His own loveliness. The vision passed, and slowly Justin rose, Unwilling quickly to disturb the peace Which the strange dream had poured into his soul, And the last accents of the voice that yet Throbbed in his heart and kindled all his love. There was a stillness and a hush o'er nature, The sweet expectancy of early dawn That waits its king. The wind had fall'n, the sea And shore spoke but in whispers ; only birds Felt not the universal awe, but from their nests. Dew-sprinkled, woke with songs the sleeping woods, Through which, a faded beauty, peered the moon. Then, turning, Justin suddenly beheld A man of years, with long dark robes and hair Whiter than sea- foam in the moonlight seen, 232 JUSTIN Strewn on black rocks, who, when Justin rose, Moved nearer to him, saying, ' O my son ! For son thou art in this new faith whereto I call thee, seeing thou wilt be born again By water and the washing of thy soul From its vain creeds, me hath the Father sent (In His great mercy loving thee and all) To be a witness to thee of thy dream, To solve the mysteries thou couldst not solve By thine own searching, and to lead thee now To that dear Voice thou heard'st, and lay thine head Upon the Heart that filled thy soul with peace.' So by the sea, among the frowning rocks, They sat in converse, while the aged priest Led Justin's spirit onward through the gloom Of vain philosophies, as one who guides An alpine traveller up some dizzy height. Where opening views expand at every step Through lessening mist, till Justin gazed at last Upon a manger rude, wherein there lay. The form and features of the Infant God. ' My Father,' then cried Justin, ' now my heart Reads the bright message of my dream. I see How vain and futile all philosophies. Save this the last which burns into my soul With fire of love so wondrous ; yet I see How even they, with weak and tremulous hand, Point toward the Christ and lead men up to Him. I now descry His footsteps in dead years. He guiding me unconscious, knowing Him not. When first my limbs, full-grown in sinewy youth. Felt the strong life within, my spirit glad Moved like broad day enshrined in cloudless skies. No care I knew, no sorrow grieved my heart. JUSTIN 233 But all was joy — a throbbing, flowing joy. I wandered through the forests and the wilds, On mountain height, above the birth of storms ; I heard unmoved the thunder at my feet. And tottering crags that filled abysmal depths With shattered pinnacles, and voices dread That made earth tremble to its central fire ; I heard the lion's roar, but felt no fear : The many-lingered forests clapped their hands. They breathed my life, the lions were free as I, — I felt all nature and myself were one ; Birds, beasts, and insects, breathing flowers and trees, And charmed life linked us in brotherhood. I watched the rising sun from day to day Surprise the world with glories ever new. No clouds obscured ; the rosy hands of dawn But lifted us to realms of joyousness And deepening light. No thought of setting day Saddened my heart, and in the silent eve I saw the new sun, like a golden seed. Hid in the crimson bosom of the old, Full of fresh life and hope and songs of birds. To wake the mom. The fish and I were friends ; Their silvery shinings could no swifter pierce The lucid depths and shallows than could I ; They were my brothers, too, for they had life, And life meant joy, and joy was brotherhood. My comrades laughed, and called me " ocean's king," " Neptune, the ocean's king." " Not so," said I ; " Call me not king, but rather friend of all ! " Thus passed the years, till one day in a wood, As I lay dreaming by a moss-edged pool. Whose twinkling eyes were laughing at the trees That laughed in golden glories overhead. While burnished beetles, green and amber-hued. 234 JUSTIN Skimmed o'er its waves, I heard a strange wild note, Above the notes of birds, so beautiful, It thrilled my soul, and made my pulses glow With warmer life. The leaves were pushed aside. And, stepping through the shadows, came a youth, God-like in motion, tall and supple-limbed, Drenched with the dappled sunlight, and begirt With skin of leopard clasped about the waist With silver. Pendant from his neck there hung A shell, such as Apollo found at dav^^n. Sea-voiced and singing to the plaintive wind. Careless who heard. This, when he held and struck With skilful hand, gave forth divinest sounds, More soft than the low humming of the bees. And sweeter than the trill of nightingale ; Or, stern and powerful, as his mood would change, Like the loud voice that fills the midnight trees And runs before the chariot of the storm, Startling all nature, crying, " Lo ! he comes, The Storm-God comes ! " or, shrill as winter winds That wail at evening round the woodman's hut. When close-drawn lattice and the blazing hearth And meal well-earned make glad the hearts within Of children and of sire, " O youth ! " I cried. Gaining my speech at last, " fain would I know The art that can so charm the sense, — not birds Nor aught on earth so beautiful. Would I Could follow thee in all thy wanderings, Could hear thee play and drink my spirit's fill Of those wild melodies ! These strains have roused Unutterable longings in my soul. Dreams of the gods, and voices of dead years. The liquid notes so thrilled me with their power That, with expanding consciousness, I saw The birth of empires, heard the rolling spheres, JUSTIN 235 The din of cities, cries of wasted hearts, MarshaUing of steeds, ravings of fevered men ; And, over all, the moaning of the sea. Since music hath such power to stir the soul, Like thee, henceforth, I am her worshipper." Then, with a smile like sunlight on his face, He sang this song in answer, carelessly — " O Soul, glad Soul, what wert thou without song ? Moms without sunshine, wilds without a tree, A waste of voiceless desert, wide and long. Dark rivers dying in eternal sea, O Soul, sad Soul, that wert thou without song. " O Soul, sad Soul, the rivers have to die. Morns grow to eve, trees wither by the way, Clouds hide the sun, and tears fall from the sky ; But Music lives though earth should melt away. O Soul, glad Soul, she will not let thee die." ' He scarce had ceased when such a pain convulsed His features as the agony that comes At death, and with one ringing cry he shook An adder from his foot, then wildly fled. With face distorted, blanched with deadly fear. Eyes glaring madly, through the tangled glade, Like some chased stag that hears the hounds behind. Nor recks what lies before. I followed fast, But swift as wind he fled. A river deep And rapid flowed hard by, whose rocky sides. Upheaved by some convulsion, frowning stood To guard its narrow channel. There a cliff Stretched half across the stream, and at its foot The hurrying waters curled in many a fold Of creamy white. II im, on the rocks I found 236 JUSTIN There lying, prostrate, racked with anguish sore, And cold with coming death ; his foaming lips Were bloodless, and his limbs, all stained and torn, Writhed helplessly. I brought green moss and placed For pillow 'neath his head ; I laved his brow And face and tangled hair ; but all in vain I strove, for ever a wild look would come In his dark eyes, a look of deadly fear. Colder he grew, and silent, till at length I thought him dead, and wondered, pitying him. His beauteous form lay helpless on the sand, Like some white statue fallen from its niche. Broken irreparably. A sudden thought Flashed on my mind. The shell — the shell was there, Still round his neck. If I could wake some sounds Of that new power that had so swayed my soul, What might not chance ! For music should indeed. If god of men, be master over death, And light up fire within the icy breast. I seized the shell and struck it : one low sound Broke from it, dying mid the cliffs and roar Of current, soft as a child's moan in dreams. But, ere I touched again, with a wild laugh That made the forests ring and scared the owls From their day-sleep, and drove them hooting out In blinding sunlight, suddenly he sprang. Clutched with mad hands the shell, and, crushing it. Flung the white fragments in the waves below. He saw them sink, then crying, " It is vain ! The shadow comes upon me ! " he fell dead. O death-cry in the roaring of the waves, O death-cry in the stillness of the rocks, O death-cry in the laughing of the trees ! The shadow passing by had fallen on me. Never to rise. So thought I then. I broke JUSTIN 237 Into loud weeping that glad life should end, In pain and bitterness the fairest hopes Of nature dying unfruitful. Stygian night And gloom infernal darkened all my soul. Cries of the Furies and the torrent's roar Rang in my ears, and voices out of hell Re-echoed, " It is vain ; the shadow comes ! " I hid the dead with moss, then turned and fled, I cared not whither, so that I might fly From the dark thoughts that drove me night and day, And sights of death that haunted me. All changed The glorious world ! and rapine, lust, and death Glared in each face, and blasted all, save wilds Where man was not. Then, Father, came the thought That in that higher nature, which the strains Of music roused, but could not satisfy, The soul of man might win its longed-for peace. So sought I wisdom and the secrets dread Of life and death, nor knew I where to seek. The burning fever of intense desire For something behind all, through all, in all. Drove me to fathom all philosophy. Thus long time sought I God, unknowing, in fire. In cold, in light, and, mole-like, closed my eyes, And groped through nature, while the Truth I sought Was at my door. His hand upon my latch, And I too blind to see, for the dark shade Of things material hung upon my sight. O Father, I was fearful lest the truth Should grind my soul to powder if I found. For what was I but man ? and God, the God Of this great universe, what should He care For one lone heart among a myriad stars ? If I should find — what should I find, indeed, But some great power my senses could not grasp, 238 JUSTIN A part of some vast whole I could not see, And I no more to Him than breathing clay ? What link between the Maker and the made ? For men can draw no nurture from the earth Save through the living forms of beasts and plants. Which link us with it. So methought, if God Should be the God I deem Him, how can He, The giant Force that moves the mighty world, Soothe the fierce hunger in the soul of man That craves for love ? What sympathy between The finite and the infinite ? Life itself Grew hard to breathe beneath eternal clouds ; No sun, no goal, to cheer. But now I see In this dear Christ the answer of my soul ; The pledge of God's great love ; the link that binds The Godhead and the manhood into one ; The undertone that makes one harmony Of our existence, giving life and peace And love for men where once a fruitless search Through the blind forces of the universe. In weary years, shut out the light of day. And dried the fount of love within the soul.' He ceased, and answered lovingly the sage : ' Son, I perceive that now thy soul hath found The peace it sought, and in the rifted Side A hiding-place and shelter from the blast. Now, I perceive the Spirit, as at first. Moves on the troubled waters of thy mind. And from dark chaos bringeth light and peace. And now, in this still hour, when every day On the dim altar lies the Son of God, That offering of which the prophet spake, ^ And feeds His children with their daily bread, Let us speak on of those high themes that lift ^ Mai. i. II, JUSTIN 239 The soul from out the trammels of this life Up to the throne of God ; and so, perchance, As on that country road at eventide. The risen One shall come with gentle voice And set our hearts on fire.' ^ Thus they conversed, Unconscious of aught else, in trance divine. And, as a mist rising from vale and hill Discloses fields, and, further off, the dawn On the broad sea, until there rolls unveiled The long full glory of the landscape, thus, As Justin sat, clearer his vision grew Of this new faith, until he saw the Christ Come towards him through the mist of dying creeds That once had shrouded Him. And thus they spake ; And Justin learned how suffering here and sin Resisted were but powers to try the soul. And forge it out more strong for this hard life, More bright for that hereafter, and that Christ, Informing all the soul with His great love. Can purge the thoughts and bend the stubborn will. For other creeds touch but the edge of being. The living Christ breathes life into our life ; Since He hath trod our path and conquered all. In the lone desert and upon the cross, With bleeding hands and feet. Then, kneeling down On the cold shore, Justin, with lifted face Turned to the glimmering east, cried, ' God ! my God ! Lord of innumerable worlds which move. Zone upon zone, through that thick night which hangs About Thy feet for ever — Thou, whose voice From the dead earth can frame the souls of men, The lips that murmur praises, and the eyes > St. Luke xxiv. 13-31. 240 JUSTIN That kindle into love — O Thou, from whom In the blind past flowed forth the light and power That make creation circle round Thy throne Through all the ages — Thou, to whom alone Time's self is dead, and death is but new life That flows unseen through this great universe, Reframing all and springing in new forms More worthy Thee — O Thou, in whom unite The past, the present, and the future — Thou, The centre of all time, the great I Am, Heart of Eternity, — in Thee I find, God, my God, the resting-place I sought, In Thee I find the answer of my quest, In Thee the satisfaction of my soul. 1 thank Thee Thou hast led me like a child To these sweet streams for which my soul hath longed Through the dim past. And now I see anew How all creation, like some pyramid, Built on a waste of ages as the sands Of a great desert, doth on every side, Step upon step, lead upward to Thy throne. Inscrutable Thy ways, God, and yet Through the thick clouds that hide Thy face there comes A beam of light, the offspring of Thy love ; For in my dreams I heard a human voice, And the warm beating of a human heart Throbbing through nature ; and I saw far off, In the dim void, the suffering face of Christ. O Christ in God ! O God in Christ ! O God ! Pledge of the Father's love, O Fount of light ! Thine was the voice that stilled my fearful heart, Thine was the heart that filled my soul with peace. O Christ, the centre of humanity ! O God, the heart of this great universe ! JUSTIN 241 O Christ in God ! Thou hnkest all to Thee By Thy torn side and bleeding hands and feet. How can we fear, though long and loud the storm, If through the darkness comes a human voice ? How can we tremble, when our head is laid Upon that breast where beats a human heart ? O Man in God, that bringest God to men ! O God in Man, that liftest man to God ! Effulgence of the essence which, divine, Without Thee incommunicable were ; Strong Light to light all mysteries, and Thou, The perfect rest I sought through weary years On trackless wastes ! Behold, in faith and love, O God, my God, I come, I come to Thee.' He ceased, and, slowly rising from his knees. He saw the priest afar, with tearful eyes. And arms outstretched in thankfulness, and said, ' I would be bom again in this new faith. My Father, by the washing of my soul From its dark stains, for I am but a babe. And would learn life anew.' So, silent, moved They to the sea, absorbed in thoughts too deep For earthly speech, and silence fell awhile Upon the earth in reverence to its God, And sky and ocean seemed to wait in awe. There, by the long white ripples on the shore. The priest stooped down in that still hour, and took A handful from the waves, the eternal sea, Which, like the love of God, flows over all. Or height or depth, and levels all, and thus Baptized he Justin in the Triune Name, And on his forehead made the holy sign. And, as the water fell on him, the sun Rose in full glory, and the sky grew bright, And angels sang far off, for day had dawned Q 242 ' AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM ' Upon the ocean and in Justin's soul. Then spake the priest, ' My son, in this calm sea I read thy life, all stillness now and peace. In the sweet morning 'neath the new-bom day. But see, the wind now breaks it into waves, Which, rising from their sleep, each tipped with light, Make that long golden pathway to the sun. So shall it be with thee. Thy soul now yearns To rest for ever at the feet of Christ ; But suffering, pain, and toil shall sweep across Its stillness, and the strife of noisy tongues. And persecution, cold, and nakedness Shall break its surface ; but each pain shaU be Bright with the love of Christ, and all thy life Shall be a path to lead men up to Him.' So the priest parted, blessing him, and Justin Rose from his knees and moved among all men, And reasoned with them of the love of God And his dear Christ, and led men up to Him From false philosophies, until at last His life set in the crimson of his blood. And rose in splendour near the throne of God. 1885. ' AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM ' Thy glory alone, O God, be the end of all that I say ; Let it shine in every deed, let it kindle the prayers that I pray ; Let it burn in my innermost soul, till the shadow of self pass away. And the light of Thy glory, O God, be unveiled in the dawning of day. 1885. SONNETS INSCRIPTION WRITTEN IN A BOOK OF SONNETS When, in life's house, life's cares are vexing thee, Look through these windows on Eternity. THE KING'S BASTION Fierce on this bastion beats the noonday sun ; The city sleeps beneath me, old and grey ; On convent roofs the quivering sunbeams play, And batteries guarded by dismantled gun. No breeze comes from the Northern hills which run Circling the blue mist of the Summer's day ; No ripple stirs the great stream on its way To those dim headlands where its rest is won. Ah God, what thunders shook these crags of yore, What smoke of battle rolled about this place, What strife of worlds in pregnant agony : Now all is hushed, yet here, in dreams, once more We catch the echoes, ringing back from space, Of God's strokes forging human history. QUEUEC. 246 246 TIME TO A GREEK STATUE Found in Herculaneum What eyes have worshipped thee, O passionless Cold stone, thou darling beauty of dead men And buried worlds ! What hearts in those days when Beauty was god have longed for thy caress, As, 'mid voluptuous feast and wild excess, They saw the dawn-light of the Eastern skies Crimson that brow and kindle in those eyes, And felt their glutted passion's emptiness. And still thou mockest us, O cruel stone, And still thine eyes are gazing far away, Drawing out man's love that loves thee all in vain. Yea, to all time, thy beauteous white lips say, ' Love's deepest yearnings leave man most alone, And in man's deepest pleasure there is pain.' 1907. TIME I SAW Time in his workshop carving faces ; Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs. Sharp cares that cut out deeply in reliefs Of hght and shade ; sorrows that smooth the traces Of what were smiles. Nor yet without fresh graces His handiwork, for ofttimes rough were ground And polished, oft the pinched made smooth and round ; The calm look, too, the impetuous fire replaces. ACROSS THE SEA 247 Long time I stood and watched ; with hideous grin, He took each heedless face between his knees. And graved and scarred and bleached with boiling tears. I wondering turned to go, when, lo ! my skin Feels crumpled, and in glass my own face sees Itself all changed, scarred, careworn, white with years. 1886. ACROSS THE SEA The confines of our being are not these White limbs of sense. Our true selves broader are And higher than the path of furthest star. Beyond the reach of sense, each hears and sees And feels. The root alone of giant trees Touches the earth ; their branches pierce to heaven. ' To-day,' ' Here,' ' There,' are to the body given ; Our spirits watch among the eternities. Dearest, our beings can mingle, and our lips Kiss off the dark world-sadness from the soul ; Our hands can clasp, our eyes return love's gaze Though waste lands moan between, where crimson dips The westering sun, and though wide oceans roll, Though being so far, we breathe in different days. 1886. 248 ON A PIECE OF EDELWEISS LOVE'S SHADOWS There come dull days in love's clear atmosphere, When clouds and doubt obscure the wide expanse. The woods are still ; no songs of birds entrance ; No sunlight falls, and desolate and drear. As if harmonious with the lurking fear Which sucks love's peace, the leaden waves that glance From rock-bound coast the general gloom enhance ; And spectral winds are wailing far and near. When suddenly, and oft in darkest hour, I hear some strain of music, or some voice, Or some of thy dear writing chance I see. And, lo ! the spell is broken, and the power Of darkness, earth, and sea, and sky rejoice, And all my being thrills with songs of thee. 1886. ON BEING GIVEN A PIECE OF EDELWEISS BEFORE VISITING SWITZERLAND Thine everlasting mountains and their snows And awful silence, floweret, know I not ; I have not wandered to thy native spot Among the crags, but oft as I repose. Musing by winter fire at daylight's close. In fancy have I viewed those depths of sky And infinite clouded crags, while fronting high, Peak upon peak, the eternal Alps uprose. ROME 249 Mysterious power, God-planted in the soul, That thus transcends all space and the confined Limits of sense. Imagination, hail ! Pledge art thou of that life when death shall roll Back our flesh prison-bars, and the freed mind Shall grasp the giant truths behind the veil. 1886. ROME Imperial city, slumb'ring on thy throne Of vanished empire, once thy voice and hands Rocked the wide world ; thy fingers wove the lands Into thy girdle ; who for crown alone Didst wear the stars. Yet still in undertone Man hears thy deathless utterance, though Time's sands Roll centuries ; thou clasp'st the earth with bands Of speech, art, law, and subtle powers unknown. Thou wast not meant to die ; thy mighty heart Pulsed with the universe. Thy deeds of old Flame like the sunset skies through clouds which throng ; They blazon on thy throne a name apart In red of mighty victories, in gold Of all things valorous and great and strong. 1888. 250 ISCARIOT TO THE SEA O STRANGE, sublime, illimitable Sea, Majestic in thy sovran self-control. And awful with the furious tides that roll Round Earth's proud cliffs who bow their heads to thee ; — Thou art like God in thy vast liberty, Thy throne is the wide world from pole to pole. Thy thunders are Time's passing bell, and toll The knell of all that has been, is, and is to be. mighty rock-bound Spirit, bright to-day. To-morrow leaden 'neath the clouds of gloom, Or mystic with the stars that overspan, — Beneath thy billows, where the wild winds play, There broods a darkness deeper than the tomb, In caverns voiceless since the world began. ISCARIOT Meek, passionless, precise, with pallid face, Judas grew up, his mother's constant joy, Who thanked Jehovah daily that her boy Of boyhood's viciousness had not a trace. Yet, in the heart of that which she thought grace A devil lurked, more subtle to destroy Than any other Satan doth employ To wreak his vengeance on the human race. MANHOOD 251 In after years, the man's soul grew so dead, That when he met Love's Self and held Love's Hand, Nay, kissed Love's Lips, he still could Love with- stand. Too late the thirst which drove him to his doom Was quenched, when back the abhorrent daylight fled From that lone gibbet darkening in the gloom. MANHOOD With child-faith dead, and youth-dreams gone like mist. We stand, at noon, beneath the blazing sun Upon life's dusty road, our course half done. No more we stray through woods where birds hold tryst, Nor over mountains which the dawn hath kissed ; In glare and heat the race must now be run On this blank plain, while round us, one by one, Our friends drop out and urge us to desist. Then from the brazen sky rings out a voice, ' Faint not, strong souls, quit you like men, rejoice, That now like men ye bear the stress and strain. With eyes unbound seeing hfe's naked truth. Gird up your loins, press on with might and main. And taste a richer wine than that of youth.' 252 LOVE'S ETERNITY THE HEAVEN OF LOVE I ROSE at midnight and beheld the sky, Sown thick with stars, Uke grains of golden sand Which God had scattered loosely from His hand Upon the floorways of His house on high ; And straight I pictured to my spirit's eye The giant worlds, their course by wisdom planned, The weary waste, the gulfs no sight hath spanned, And endless time for ever passing by. Then, filled with wonder and a secret dread, I crept to where my child lay fas;t asleep. With chubby arm beneath his golden head. What cared I then for all the stars above ? One little face shut out the boundless deep. One little heart revealed the heaven of love. LOVE'S ETERNITY Between the stars, the light-waves on and on Roll from the scenes of earth's past history Unto the margins of eternity. No day is lost of all that ever shone, Each with its story into space hath gone So that, to-night, some distant world may see. Looking at earth, the Cross on Calvary, Or the green plain and camps at Marathon. AT NIGHTFALL 253 Dear heart, whose life is woven into mine, Who art the light and music of my days, We move towards death, yet let us have no fear ; If nothing dies, not even light's faintest rays, Sure that vast love which links my soul with thine Marks for eternity our union here. AT NIGHTFALL O LITTLE hands, long vanished in the night — Sweet fairy hands that were my treasure here — My heart is full of music from some sphere, Where ye make melody for God's delight. Though autumn clouds obscure the starry height. And winds are noisy and the land is drear, In this blank room I feel my lost love near. And hear you playing, — hands so small and white. The shadowy organ sings its songs again. The dead years turn to music at its voice. And all the dreams come back my brain did store. Once more, dear hands, ye soothe me in my pain, Once more your music makes my heart rejoice, — God speed the day we clasp for evermore ! 254 THE MARTYR EASTER ISLAND There lies a lone isle in the tropic seas, — A mountain isle, with beaches shining white, Where soft stars smile upon its sleep by night, And every noonday fans it with a breeze. Here on a cliff, carved upward from the knees. Three uncouth statues of gigantic height. Upon whose brows the circling sea-birds light. Stare out to ocean over the tall trees. For ever gaze they at the sea and sky, For ever hear the thunder of the main, For ever watch the ages die away ; And ever round them rings the phantom cry Of some lost race that died in human pain, Looking towards heaven, yet seeing no more than they. THE MARTYR The dark square glimmers 'neath the morning skies, And issuing slowly through the sombre gate Come priest and monk, soldier and magistrate. While, midst them, walks the prisoner, with his eyes Bent on the ground, going to his sacrifice. He limps, from tortures wrought by powerless hate, He fronts wild wolves who for his life-blood wait. Yet now he thrills with God's own harmonies. EVENSONG IN THE WOODS 255 Fearless, he stands above the great, hushed crowd : He hears the monks drone out his burial song, He feels the hot flames round the faggots creep ; And, as the thick smoke wraps him in a cloud, Which rolls to Heaven, his voice rings clear and strong — * Thy Kingdom come ' : and so he falls asleep. EVENSONG IN THE WOODS Hush, let us say, ' Our Father,' in this wood. And through bare boughs look up into the sky. Where fleecy clouds on autumn winds go b3^ Here, by this fallen trunk, which long since stood And praised the Lord and Giver of all good, We '11 sing ' Magnificat.' With curious eye, A squirrel watches from a branch on high. As though he too would join us if he could. Now in our ' Nunc Dimittis,' soft and low. Strange woodland voices mingle, one by one ; Dead songs oi vanished birds, the sad increase Of crumpled leaves on paths where rough winds go, The deepening shades, the low October sun, — * Lord, let thy servant now depart in peace.' 256 BY THE GRAVE OF KEATS THE MILL-STREAM Clear down the mountain, 'neath the arching green, And o'er mossed boulders dappled by the sun, With many a leap the laughing waters run. They tumble fearless down each dark ravine, And roam through caves where day has never been : Until, at last, the open pool is won. Where, by their prisoned strength, man's work is done In that old mill which branching cedars screen. Here, all day long, the massy logs, updrawn Against the biting saw, are loud with shrieks. Here, too, at night, are stars and mystery, And nature sleeping ; and, all round at dawn, The rugged utterance of mountain peaks Against the infinite silence of the sky. 1900. BY THE GRAVE OF KEATS The sunset gold was fading from the sky. The cypresses towered darkly overhead. While through the deepening shade a pathway led To where the bones of England's poet lie. We heard the night-wind in the tall trees sigh. Yet, as we stooped and on the white stone read Those lines which tell the heart's woe of the dead. Something that was not darkness blurred the eye. THE LAURENTIANS 257 ' Whose name was writ in water,' — yea, 'twas so. O passionate soul of beauty, youth and light, Thy name is writ in water, earth and air, It sings in birds' songs, scents all flowers that blow, Lights up the forest glade, cro\vns the starred night ; Thy epitaph was triumph, not despair. 1904. THE LAURENTIANS These mountains reign alone, they do not share The transitory life of woods and streams ; Wrapt in the deep solemnity of dreams. They drain the sunshine of the upper air. Beneath their peaks, the huge clouds, here and there, Take counsel of the wind, which all night screams Through grey, burnt forests where the moonlight beams On hidden lakes, and rocks worn smooth and bare. These mountains once, throned in the primal sea, Shook half the world with thunder, and the sun Pierced not the gloom that clung about their crest ; Now with spent force, toilers from toil set free, Unvexed by fate, the part they played being done. They watch and wait in venerable rest. '903- U 258 ON THE RETURN OF OUR TROOPS THE CITY CHURCH Not only in the hush of mountain lands, And on the storms which shroud the boundless deep, Does Nature's God His awful vigil keep. Here, in this church, though raised by human hands, Though in the traffic-crowded street it stands, God's throne is set ; and while men work or sleep, He wakes and listens to the hearts that weep. And in His love makes straight life's tangled strands. New generations come and pass away, They pour their anguish into God's kind ear. They gaze up mutely towards His unseen face ; And, compassed with His mercies day by day. They stand unshaken, while this earthly sphere Rolls through the dark infinity of space. 1900. ON THE RETURN OF OUR TROOPS The seal set on our nationhood are these Strong men, returning victors from the war ; Up to the battle's very front they bore Our country's honour, till with every breeze Fame sang their valour round the seven seas. For us they braved death in the cannon's roar, For us their comrades died, and nevermore Will see the loved homes 'neath our maple-trees. OUT OF THE STORM 259 Throw wide thy gates, O Canada, throw wide The portals of thy gratitude ; these men Have roused the God in us. Now cast aside All littleness of aim. With courage high And loftier purpose, to thy tasks again, And carve thine own illustrious destiny. 1900 OUT OF THE STORM The huge winds gather on the midnight lake. Shaggy with rain and loud with foam-white feet, Then bound through miles of darkness till they meet The harboured ships and city's squares, and wake From steeples, domes and houses, sounds that take A human speech, the storm's mad course to greet ; And nightmare voices through the rain and sleet Pass shrieking, till the town's rock-sinews shake. Howl, winds, around us in this silent room ! Wild lake, with thunders beat thy prison bars ! A brother's life is ebbing fast away, And, mounting on your music through the gloom, A pure soul mingles with the morning stars, And with them melts into the blaze of day. St. Lukk'.s Hospitai,, DULUTH, May 17, 1 894. 26o THE POET'S EMPIRE WORDS Words are but passing symbols of the deep Crying unto deep in individual souls. And men are words on the great voice that rolls Through Nature, since that mom when from their sleep The elements heard, and they who vigil keep On Heaven's battlements, to distant poles Re-echoed, ' Let light be ! ' — such voice as tolls The birth and death of all who laugh or weep. Not uniform, but in a wondrous plan. Each diverse from his fellows, symbol each Of varying thought in the eternal mind. Now at the feet of every age of man We sit and learn. Haply, in perfect speech Its voice will be God's message to our kind. 1887. THE POET'S EMPIRE What power can break the inner harmonies. The rich imaginings, heard like distant sea O'er purple meadow-lands at eve, while we Look starwards mute ? Hopes that like mountains rise Into mid-heaven, and to entranced eyes Horizon-glories of what is to be, — All these and more lie round us infinitely, Beyond all language fair in cloudless skies. IN MEMORIAM. E. S. 261 This is the poet's empire. Here may he Reign king-hke, throned in splendour and in power No power can shake, so he indeed be king. Free as the wind, untamed as the sea, When earth weighs heavily, most in that hour He cleaves the heavens in scorn on eagle wing. 1887. IN MEMORIAM. E. S. Her love was that full love which, like the tide. Flows in and out life's smallest gulfs and bays, And fills with music through long summer days Cold hearts that else would stern and dark abide. Her smile would cheer, her faintest look could chide ; No soul too outcast, none too lowly born, For her kind ear ; and none too high for scorn Of mean pretence, or wrong, or foolish pride. She loved all Nature ; mountain, stream, and tree To her were thoughts or language for the thought She could not utter, signs of truth too high To set to words. Her love, too, like the sea, Flowed daily back with cares its surface brought To that still vast beneath eternal sky. November 21,1 880. 262 SHAKESPEARE TRUTH I SAW Truth on the mountains, golden-shod With day-dawn, girt about with skies Of azure mist, half veiling from man's eyes Her silent face and gaze upturned to God. Beneath were clouded steeps of shale and sod, Tracked deviously by feet that human-wise Toiled upward, but toiled vainly towards the prize ; Some following, shunning some where others trod. Yet in the darkness oft there came, ' I see,' From eager hearts I met. ' Behold ! ' men cried, Yet variously ; ' such are Truth's features high.' Self's shadow, from the soul's intensity Cast on the mist, not such the face I spied, Calm, sovereign, silent, upturned midst the sky. 1887. SHAKESPEARE Unseen in the great minster dome of time, Whose shafts are centuries, its spangled roof The vaulted universe, our master sits, And organ-voices like a far-off chime Roll through the aisles of thought. The sunlight flits From arch to arch, and, as he sits aloof, Kings, heroes, priests, in concourse vast, sublime. Glances of love and cries from battle-field. His wizard power breathes on the living air. AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S 263 Warm faces gleam and pass, child, woman, man. In the long multitude ; but he, concealed, Our bard eludes us, vainly each face we scan, It is not he ; his features are not there ; But, being thus hid, his greatness is revealed. 188;. AT MADAME TUSSAUD'S I STOOD in that strange show, the other day, On Baker Street, where all the famous men. Fair dames, and murderers come to life again, With clockwork breast and face of mimic clay. To scare the young. Thrice in the long display, Blundering, I thought wax flesh, then, with surprise At being deceived, I turned with cautious eyes And took for wax all those that thronged my way. So in this age, methinks, when, in the light Of fuller knowledge, forms that men have reared And worshipped turn to dust, too hasty youths. Shunning the whirlpool jaws of credulous sight, Rush towards a Scylla far more to be feared, And take for shadows all too living truths. 1885. 264 NEW YEAR'S EVE WESTMINSTER ABBEY 'TwAS afternoon in winter, and the light Crept softly up the walls, as day was done, In tremulous cloud-beams, while the setting sun Blazoned with saints the columns opposite. All sounds had died away ; to left and right Was silence, though I seemed to hear again The spirit-echoes of the last Amen Far in the groined shado wings out of sight. Oh ! silence strange, so deep, so vast, profound ; Ten ages slumber in the dust beneath, And yet no voice, — no voice from those who trod These aisles before and lie so still around. Oh ! is it that they lose all voice in death. Seeing what they see, and being so close to God ? 1885. NEW YEAR'S EVE We stand above the abyss ; beneath our feet Around and onward infinite darkness rolls. The sky above is black ; the watch-bell tolls The dying year. While slow on silent feet Pale ghosts come towards us from the ice-locked street Of thought's great city ; faces young and old. Eyes sunken, features set and deathly cold, And noiseless bear the dead year's winding-sheet. DEATH AND THE CHILD 265 But lo ! where now we stand is worn with tread Of milHons ; in the darkness, feel, the ground Is dust of powdered bones ; sure, on this peak The years have died, and milhons of the dead Have waited vainly through the gloom profound, For dawn of day or trumpet-voice to speak. 1888. DEATH AND THE CHILD Death met a little child beside the sea ; The child was ruddy and his face was fair, His heart was gladdened with the keen salt air, Full of the young waves' laughter and their glee. Then Death stooped down and kissed him, saying ' To Thee, My child, will I give summers rare and bright. And flowers, and morns with never noon or night. Or clouds to darken, if thou 'It come with me.' Then the child gladly gave his little hand. And walked with Death along the shining sand, And prattled gaily, full of hope, and smiled As a white mist curled round him on the shore And hid the land and sea for evermore — Death hath no terrors for a little child. 266 DEATH AND LIFE DEATH AS PRIEST There lived two souls who only lived for love ; The one a maiden, full of joy and youth, The other her young lord, a man of truth And very valiant. Them did God above Knit with those holy bands none may remove Save He that formed them. But next year there came God's angel, with his face and wings of flame, And bore the young wife's soul off like a dove. Then did her lord, disconsolate many years, Cry bitterly to God to make them one. And take his life, and silence the sweet past. So Death came tenderly and stilled his tears, Clad as a priest, and 'neath the winter's sun In a white grave re-wedded them at last. DEATH AND LIFE Quoth Death to Life : ' Behold what strength is mine ! All others perish, yet I do not fail ; Where life aboundeth most, I most prevail ; I mete out all things with my measuring line.' Then answered Life : ' O boastful Death, not thine The final triumph ; what thy hands undo My busy anvil forgeth out anew ; For one lamp darkened I bring two to shine.' COLUMBUS 267 Then answered Death : ' Thy handiwork is fair, But a sHght breath will crumble it to dust.' ' Nay, Death,' said Life, ' for in the vernal air A sweeter blossom breaks the winter's crust.' Then God called down and stopped the foolish strife ; His servants both — God made both Death and Life. COLUMBUS He caught the words which ocean thunders hurled On heedless eastern coasts in days gone by. And to his dreams the ever-westering sky The ensign of a glorious hope unfurled ; So, onward to the line of mists which curled Around the setting sun, with steadfast eye, He pushed his course, and, trusting God on high. Threw wide the portals of a larger world. The heart that watched through those drear autumn nights The wide, dark sea, and man's new empire sought. Alone, uncheered, hath wrought a deed sublime, Which, like a star behind the polar lights, Will shine through splendours of man's utmost thought Down golden eras to the end of time. 268 IDOLS IDOLS In each man's heart a secret temple stands For rites idolatrous of praise and prayer ; And dusky idols through the incensed air, On single thrones, or grouped in curious bands, Gaze at the lamp which swings in memory's hands, — Some richly carved, with face of beauty rare, Some with brute heads and bosoms foul and bare. Yet crowned with gold and gems from distant lands. Take now thy torch, descend the winding years, The silent stairway to thy secret shrine. And see what Dagon crowns the topmost shelf With front aggressive, served through hopes and fears In ceaseless cult by love that counts divine His every blemish, — is not Dagon SELF ? SOLOMON 269 SOLOMON A DOUBLE line of columns, white as snow, And vaulted with mosaics rich in flowers, Makes square this cypress grove where fountain showers From golden basins cool the grass below ; While from that archway strains of music flow. And laughter of fair girls beguiles the hours. But brooding, like one held by evil powers. The great King heeds not, pacing sad and slow. His heart hath drained earth's pleasures to the lees. Hath quivered with life's finest ecstasies ; Yet now some power reveals as in a glass The soul's unrest and death's dark agony. And down the courts the scared slaves watch him pass With parched lips muttering, ' All is vanity.' THE KEY OF LIFE: A MYSTERY-PLAY TO EDMUND WOOD WITH THE GRATITUDE OF A LIFE THE KEY OF LIFE Prologue Dear fellow-pilgrims on life's toilsome road, Who know this world is not man's last abode, I pray you pause a moment on your way. And learn the simple lessons of our play. We have no wit to bring you, nothing rare. In turn of speech or figure passing fair, But simply that great message from the past. That God's strong arms around His world are cast. And that man's life beneath, around, above. Is compassed with the fulness of God's love. This little play we call The Key of Life, Because in Christ there is an end of strife. And all the problems that perplex the mind, In Him alone, can true solution find. When Satan spreads his snares before our feet, Christ, who once foiled him, is a sure retreat. When sin has spoilt life's plan and symmetry, Christ, through His death, can give us pardon free ; And when some grief has darkened all our sky, Christ weeps with us for those who have to die. There are no stars with light so far and dim. That we can thither fly and hide from Him, No silence in the sunless depths of sea. But in His presence lies continually, No hidden regions in the utmost space. Where God and man cannot meet face to face. c. 273 274 THE KEY OF LIFE With reverence then, and with a lowly fear, This simple tale of man's salvation hear, 'Twill give you guidance in perplexing hours ; 'Twill give you strength to fight the evil powers, If Christ be helmsman in the soul's frail bark, Fear not the sea however wild and dark. SCENE I [It is night. The starry canopy of space stretches far away into the infinite distance. Beneath it, on the shinitig top of one of Heaven's battlements, two angels stand, their hands clasped in the atti- tude of prayer, and their heads bowed in worship. A strong light falls on them from above, as an unseen angelic choir sings very softly. Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts, Heaven and Earth are full of Thy Glory : Glory be to Thee, O Lord most High. Amen. As the ' Amen ' dies off into silence, the Angels unclasp their hands, and draw nigh to the edge of the tower, and look down the dark abyss beneath them, where the sun and his attendant planets hang poised in space.] FIRST ANGEL Dear Brother, canst thou see. Far down the gulfs of night. That world to which so joyfully Great Gabriel speeds his flight ? The shining of his wing. Lights up the paths of space. And all the baby planets sing To see his radiant face. THE KEY OF LIFE 275 SECOND ANGEL Yea, Brother, I can see That world and know its name, For it, by Heaven's high decree, Now wins a glorious fame ; 'Tis called by mortals Earth, And there, since time began. The Father willed, through Virgin birth, His Son should be made man. Great Gabriel wings his way To a sweet maiden's shrine, To tell her on this glorious da}-, — She, wrapt in trance divine, — That God has now decreed She shall be favoured. And bear at length the Promised Seed To bruise the serpent's head. FIRST ANGEL O Brother, such a theme Sets all one's heart aglow ; 'Tis like the rapture of a dream That God should love man so. We know how wondrous fair The throne of Heaven is, The songs that thrill the golden air In never ending bliss ; And does the Eternal Son In pity stoop so far As to behold what things are done On such a little star ? See, Brother, now at last Great Gabriel's feet alight Upon that world where sin has cast A darkness deep as night. 276 THE KEY OF LIFE SECOND ANGEL Yea, Brother, more and more. Thine eyes with joy shall see The love that God the Son will pour On frail humanity ; His brethren now they are, For hark ! the songs of praise. Re-echoing from star to star, Fill all the bounds of space. In Mary's virgin heart A fount of rapture springs, She wills to bear a mother's part Unto the King of Kings. And now the Light of Light, From whom the worlds began, Deigns with man's nature to unite And be for ever man. A weary way of life His loving feet will tread, And through the last most bitter strife Go downward to the dead. But He by death shall win The captives held in chain, And, from the broken bonds of sin, Shall bring His own again. Then up to Heaven on high His brethren He will raise. To dwell with Him beyond the sky And join our hymns of praise. Hush, Brother, veil thine eyes, Before this awful sight. For now through all the throbbing skies There dawns a wondrous light. THE KEY OF LIFE 277 [The light deepens. There is silence for a space. The Angels cover their faces with their hands and wait with bowed heads. Then there is heard, hut faintly, as from a great distance, the voice of the Angel Gabriel, giving his wonderful message to Blessed Mary.] ' Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee ; Blessed art thou among women. Fear not, Mary : for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive and bring forth a Son, and shalt call His name Jesus. He shall be great and shall be called the Son of the Highest : and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of His father David : And He shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever ; and of His kingdom there shall be no end.' [Then the voice of the Holy Virgiii is heard in reply ."] ' Behold the handmaid of the Lord ; Be it unto me according to thy word.' [As the light fades into darkness, an unseen choir sings the song of the Blessed Mary.] ' My soul doth magnify the Lord : and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He hath regarded : the lowliness of His hand- maiden. For behold, from henceforth : all generations shall call me blessed. For He that is mighty hath magnified me : and Holy is His Name. And His mercy is on them that fear Him : through- out all generations. 278 THE KEY OF LIFE He hath shewed strength with His arm : He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things : and the rich He hath sent empty away. He remembering His mercy hath holpen His servant Israel : as He promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed, for ever. Glory be to the Father and to the Son : and to the Holy Ghost ; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be : world without end. Amen.' SCENE II [It is the neighbourhood of Bethlehem. The sun has set and night is quickly coming ; hut a 'pale yellow light still lingers on the horizon. The road winds steeply up to the little town of Bethlehem, the dark outline of the wall and tower of which looms out against the sky. Two or three lights are seen from the houses. To the left of the road stands a wayside inn built into the cliff, with an archway opening into that part of the cave which is used as a stable. There is a door to the inn, and a little window from which light issues. Laughter and singing are heard within. The night grows darker, snow begins to fall. St. Joseph enters with bundle on his back and lantern in his right hand. With his left hand he leads St. Mary. St. Joseph goes to the inn and knocks at the door. Laughter is heard within. It stops.] THE KEY OF LIFE 279 ST. JOSEPH Goodman, goodman, open thy door, Pilgrims are we, cold and footsore ; Our way is lost in the driving snow. We have no otherwhere to go. [Laughter within. St. Joseph knocks again.] Goodman, goodman, open, I pray, Weary are we and long is the way. The thick night gathers, the snow comes down, And the hill is steep to the little town. [Laughter again. St. Joseph knocks once more, while St. Mary takes a seat on a stone by the door.] ST. JOSEPH Goodman, goodman, open thy door, Pity the hearts and the feet that are sore. Open, I pray, and take us in, And evermore God's favour win. [The door opens and the host looks out.] HOST Who are ye that come so late. And make such knocking at my gate ? What bringeth you here in the cold and snow ? On to the city hasten and go. ST. JOSEPH O goodman, we are of David's line. And glorious the names of our fathers shine, We are come to be taxed in David's town, Jjut have no where to lay us down. 28o THE KEY OF LIFE HOST My house is full of the rich and great ; No room for pilgrims of thine estate. Go on, go on, in thy journey still, To the little town on the top of the hill. [St. Joseph goes over and takes St. Mary by the hand, and they kneel at the door before the host.] ST. JOSEPH O goodman, for the love of God, Send us not back the way we trod. This woman is so ill and weak She scarce hath strength enough to speak. The wind is howling far and near, And her meek spirit quakes with fear : Her shrinking steps and gentle moan Certain would melt a heart of stone. An awful sense is in the air Of dark powers watching everywhere ; And down the mountains as we came, We saw wild beasts with eyes of flame. We are not clad in silk and rings. We are no company for kings ; If that the inn be crowded all. Give us then shelter in a stall. Our gentle brothers, ox and ass, Will let the humble pilgrims pass ; And all night long, their breathings deep Will soothe us in our dreamless sleep. THE KEY OF LIFE 281 HOST No time have I, in this cold night. To hearken to your sorry phght. Rise up and to the stable go, There find some shelter from the snow. [Host turns to enter the inn. Rough servant appears.] Here, fellow, take these folk away, Let them on straw their tired limbs lay. Then quickly come, the hour is late. Upon the others thou must wait. [Host enters the inn, and closes the door hur- riedly. St. Joseph and St. Mary rise from their knees.] SERVANT Good people, pity in my heart, Has made the tears from my eyes start. So weary are ye and footsore, 'Tis shame to turn you from the door. May God, who doeth all things right, Give you good rest and sleep to-night. Upon sweet straw your tired limbs lay. Until the white dawn brings the day, [Servant takes lantern fro?n St. Joseph and passes into the archway, followed by St. Joseph leading St. Mary. As the darkness gradually deepens, this hymn is sung by the unseen choir.] 282 THE KEY OF LIFE HYMN TO THE INFANT JESUS O WONDROUS love of God, That men will cast away, O wondrous love of God, Come to my heart and stay. Cast out all trifling things, False loves and toys of earth ; Enter, great King of Kings, In me once more have birth. O little face of love. Against thy mother's breast, The starry hosts above Are resting in thy rest. O little hands of power, O infant's panting breath — Eternity 's at flower And life is born of death. O little clinging mite, Beneath thy mother's face. Thy dreaming eyes have sight, Beyond the bounds of space. So fair and white thy throne, O little tired one sleep ; The legions are thine own. That guard the starlit deep. O wondrous love of God, Cast not my love away ; Enter my heart, my God, Enter my heart and stay. THE KEY OF LIFE 283 SCENE III [A plain near Bethlehem. Dark mountains are seen dimly in the distance. In the foreground is a little mound on which the shepherds are sitting, wrapped in long cloaks and with staves in their ha?ids. The night is dark and still, as after a storm ; and the stars are now twinkling merrily iti the sky. At the foot of the little hill, the sheep are sleeping quietly. The shepherds look up and, extending their arms, join in singing a hymn for their flocks.] O Lord above the starry height, Enthroned in splendour and in might, Look downward through the veil of night, And guard our sheep. Let not the wolf nor cunning fox Disturb the slumber of our flocks. And from rude rain and thunder shocks Them safely keep. The night is cold, But warm the fold. And on the hill, Beside its dam. Each little lamb. With sleep-sealed eyes, So closely lies All warm and still 'Neath starry skies. 284 THE KEY OF LIFE Great God be near, Keep them from fear, Guard them from murrain, hurt and pain. And give them, all the fruitful year, Rich pasture in the watered plain, [As the hymn ceases, a hell in the distance is heard softly tolling midnight.] FIRST SHEPHERD The storm is o'er, but black night reigns On sea and mountain, hills and plains. Now toilers on the treacherous deep Watch the long billows without sleep. Now lions in the desert prowl. And in the dark wood hoots the owl. Alas, my heart was once so glad. But sorrow makes it worn and sad. A wife, I had, whose love and care Filled life with music everywhere. But now she lies within the tomb. And life is nought but toil and gloom. [He turns away, hiding his face in his hands.] SECOND SHEPHERD Ah Brother, sad thy grief and wild ; But I have lost my only child. No gloomy sepulchre shuts him in. But Satan chains him by his sin. His heart to me is dead and cold. He has no pity for the old. His feet go down Gehenna's way. No power from doom his steps can stay. [He too turns away, hiding his face in his hands.] THE KEY OF LIFE 285 THIRD SHEPHERD I, not by private grief distressed, Mourn that our nation is oppressed, That foreign tyrants with us dwell As rulers of God's Israel. I mourn, because our foes are strong, That right is worsted by the wrong. That rapine, ruin, greed and lust Have trampled Israel in the dust. FIRST SHEPHERD Brothers, meseems our various woe Doth from one source of evil fiow. Let us together kneel this night, And ask high God to send us light. [They kneel and pray, facing the East.] O Father of the land and sea, Give us the light that is to be. O Builder of the mountains wild. Bring home again the erring child. O Lord, who gave the wind his breath, Fill with new life the house of death. O King of Kings above the sky, Give us some hope before we die. Give us some Key amid our strife That will unlock the gates of life. 286 THE KEY OF LIFE [The scene grows darker. Suddenly a bright light shines in the sky, and an angel appears and sings :] ' Fear not : for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you ; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' [Then the light hursts over the whole sky, and behold, it is full of angels, singing .*] ' Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.' [When the angels are gone away from them into Heaven and the shepherds are left in dark- ness, they rise as if the spell of the vision were still upon them.] FIRST SHEPHERD Verily, a glorious sight Hath burst upon our eyes this night. My heart is full of hopes and fears. That wring from it unwonted tears. Come, let us haste and fmd out them That guard this Babe in Bethlehem ; And at His feet our homage pay, Who comes to usher in the day. [They pass on to Bethlehem.] THE KEY OF LIFE 287 SCENE IV Herod's Court \_A scene of barbaric splendour opens out disclosing a hall of vast proportions with rich pillars in rows on either side. Bright carpets cover the marble floor. At the back of the hall are two thrones, covered with cloth of gold. Slaves stand on either side of the thrones holding large fans of peacocks' feathers. To a slow music, a procession enters, of soldiers and pages followed by scribes, courtiers, and lastly the King and Queen. The soldiers and courtiers group themselves in a semi-circle at the back of the scene ajtd do homage, as the King and Queen mount the thrones. Then the music ceases and the guests divide in groups conversing. Herod turns to the Queen, putting his hand to his head as though oppressed with weariness or anxiety.] HEROD Lady, in horror all night long, I heard a deep voice round my bed. Methought it was the triumph song Borne upward from my murdered dead. ' Herod,' it cried, ' thy doom is sealed. The vengeance of the Lord draws nigh. Behold, in Bethlehem is revealed, The Shiloh of the prophecy ! ' 288 THE KEY OF LIFE QUEEN Sire, it were an evil thing To heed all mutterings of the brain. Were I a man, and that a king, I would life's cup of pleasure drain ; And should dire fury, like a flood. Burst from the angry heart of God, 1 'd dye in God's own people's blood. The strokes of His avenging rod. HEROD Thrice-nobly spoken, wife and Queen ; Thy words disperse the cloud of gloom. For what will be, like what has been, Is written in the scroll of doom. [Enter the Three Wise Men, hearing gifts.] But who are these that come from far. Arrayed as pilgrims from the East ? Tell us, good people, what ye are, And wherefore come ye to the feast. MELCHIOR O Sire, we come from far-off lands, The new-bom King to greet. We bring these presents in our hands To lay them at His feet. Long time the deep and m^^stic lore Of ancient men we read. Until to us the dark scrolls bore The wisdom of the dead. / THE KEY OF LIFE 289 We sought to find The Key of Life, Why man has come to be, What means the spirit's constant strife To win Eternity. Then as we fasted, prayed and sought. With tireless, sleepless eyes. The pitying constellations brought A message from the skies. For, lo, a star, unseen before, Moved through the trackless night. We journeyed over sea and shore, Led onward by its light. And now we seek the infant King, The mystic Light Divine, Whose arm the victory will bring To Israel's chosen line. HEROD [in anger] What means this mummery, fellow, say ? Begone, thou uncouth clown. Or death will have thee for his prey, Before the sun goes down. BALTHASAR [advances, holding up his hand in warning] O Sire, beware, the sign was sure, No mummery this, in truth. The purposes of God endure. For God is in His youth. [The courtiers gather round about in interest and alarm. Herod, turning to the Scribe :] T 290 THE KEY OF LIFE Scribe, has Israel ever heard That such a King should come ? Have Israel's prophets said the word, Or are her sages dumb ? {Scribe unrolls a parchment scroll and reads slowly ;] From Bethlehem, the prophets tell. Shall come the King of Israel. [Herod turjis to the Queen and is evidently alarmed. Consternation seizes the guests, who discuss the ^natter, one with another. Herod stands and addresses the Three Wise Men.] To Bethlehem haste and go ; And when ye find the King, Bear me back word, that I may so Prepare myself, and bring My costliest treasures to His feet, My sceptre and my crown, And do such homage, as is meet, To one from Heaven sent down. \The Wise Meit make their reverence to the King and depart. Herod leads the Queen out past the guests who do obeisance.] HEROD Come, Queen, be not cast down, I still am Israel's Lord ; [Whispering in her ear,] This Child shall never wear the crown, While Herod holds the sword. THE KEY OF LIFE 291 SCENE V The Court of Death [Death, with the face of a skull and wearing a gold crown with sharp points, sits enthroned. He holds in one hand a scythe, in the other an hour- glass. At his feet crouch seven dusky forms in shadowy raiment, which are the Seven Deadly Sins. The scene, except where the light falls upon Death and the crouching figures, is absol- utely dark. There is music of a slow dirge. It ceases, and the dark forms join in chanting, to a weird melody, the Hymn of the Seven Deadly Sins.] King of the wind-blown mountains. Lord of the lakes and streams, Death, majestic and mighty, Dream that awakes us from dreams, Black is the frown on thy visage. Piercing the fire of thine eye, Thou girdest thyself with the tempest, Thou spreadest thy wings on the sky. Cities, and lone habitations. Peoples, and ships of the sea. Cringing, and prone at thy footstool, Offer their treasures to thee. Monarchs, in pride of dominion, Beggars, in rags from the street, Bow down before thee as brothers. Naked they crouch at thy feet. 292 THE KEY OF LIFE Speed us, great Death, on thine errands, Cover with darkness the land. Give us sweet sin for a poison, Make us a sword in thine hand. God and His Hosts shall be vanquished ; Love shall be cast from His throne ; Over the dark desolations, Thou shalt be monarch alone. [They rise and wave their lean, white hands above their heads, making, at the same time, a hissing sound as of serpents. Then, as Death rises on his throne to speak, they cry :] All hail, undying Death ! Whose black lips suck man's breath, Whose grip is on man's heart. Whose sharp knife loves can part. DEATH Children, born of hate and gloom. Feeders of the hungry tomb. Ere the day-star bring the day, Speed upon your darksome way. Nothing pity, nothing spare. Stab and poison everywhere, Snare and capture, strip and bind, Forge the fetters of the mind. n ye mark temptation's hour. Nothing can withstand your power ; When the soul begins to slip. Get it quickly in your grip. THE KEY OF LIFE 293 When a soul has fallen in sin. Pour a deeper poison in. Tell it, God withholds His care ; Blast it with a dumb despair. Scar and scratch the face of right, Blind the eyes that look for light, Shackle truth, set lying free. So shall all things come to me. [He holds up his right hand, and Pride comes and kneels before him. Death, holding his hand above him in blessing, says ;] Pride, go forth to crush in doom Hearts wherein God has no room. [Pride retires, and Covetousness kneels before Death.] DEATH Love of Gold, go forth to slay Souls who God's love cast away. [Covetousness retires, and Lust kneels before Death.] DEATH Lust, go forth to poison love. Blind men's eyes to things above. [Envy comes.] DEATH Envy, prick men hke a thorn, Make them curse that they were born. T 2 294 THE KEY OF LIFE [Gluttony comes.] DEATH Gluttony, be thou a mesh, Snaring all the grosser flesh. [Anger comes.] DEATH Anger, go forth like a flood, Drown the world in pain and blood. [Sloth comes.] DEATH Sloth, be thou a clogging slime, Make men lose salvation's time. [Then Death extends his wide, black wings, and chants exultingly :] Now shall my dominions Be the captive world. Now my outstretched pinions. Like a flag unfurled. Mock in exultation God upon His throne ; And of all creation I am lord alone. [Suddenly, a trumpet gives three loud sharp blasts, and, in a burst of light, an Angel appears holding a drawn sword over Death, who, at sight of the Angel, crouches down, grovellijig on the ground, with the Seven Deadly Sins prostrate around him.] THE KEY OF LIFE 295 ANGEL ' Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.' Vain Death, depart, thy reign is o'er. God's Son is Man for evermore. Through Him, temptation makes more strong The soul that battles with the wrong. When sheltered 'neath His loving wing, All pain and sorrow lose their sting. His slave art thou, to sit and wait And ope for souls the heavenly gate. Behold, the clouds have rolled away And on the mountains dawns the day. [Death and the Seven Deadly Sins crawl off on their hands and knees, like animals.] ANGEL [uplifting his sword] Our God is Victor in the strife. Behold for man the Key of Life. [Instantly a light falls round about and in it stands revealed the scene of the Nativity. From a manger at the hack, rays of glory emerge. Behind the manger, stand two lighted candles. St. Mary and St. Joseph, the Shepherds and Wise Men kneel in front, while a row of adoring angels forms a back- ground to the scene. Melchior, who kneels in the centre facing the manger, swings a censer of sweet incense. As they kneel, Ihcy all join in singing softly :] 296 THE KEY OF LIFE O Word of God Incarnate, O Light begot of Light, To weakness comes all power, To finite infinite. We hail Thee, tender Saviour, We hail Thee, mighty King ; All that we have, we bring Thee, As love's own offering. O, born of Virgin Mother, Sweet Jesu, Prince of Peace, Give us the strength to conquer, Give us from sin release. The thick night hovers o'er us. Our foes advance for strife, To us, O Key of David, Throw wide the gates of life. Amen. [As the last 'Amen' is sung, darkness falls upon the scene, and the choir sings the Song of the aged Simeon, which he sang when he took the Lord's Christ into his arms in the temple.'] ' Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace : according to Thy word. For mine eyes have seen : Thy Salvation, Which Thou hast prepared : before the face of all people ; To be a light to lighten the Gentiles ; and to be the glory of Thy people Israel. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son : and to the Holy Ghost ; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be : world without end. Amen.' THE KEY OF LIFE 297 Epilogue Good people, now our simple play is ended. In halting lines the story has been told, How great Jehovah hath our race befriended And loved us with a love that was of old. Go home, then, filled with deeper love and pity For sinful souls, for all the sick and sad : And, as about the streets of this fair city Ye go each day, make others bright and glad. Think not that they who knelt before the manger Were nearer God than ye can be to-day — That, had ye worshipped then the httle Stranger, No tempter's wiles could lure your heart away. For, every age hath its own special vision. At every door, the Crucified has stood. To every soul, there comes the fierce decision — The final choice of evil or of good. And, day by day, unchanging through the ages, Though ears are deaf and eyes are blind with mist. He, who was worshipped by the Eastern Sages, Is throned amongst us in the Eucharist. Yea, that dear Christ, born of the spotless Maiden, In yearning love still cries to souls distressed — ' All ye that labour and are heavy laden, Come unto Me and I will give you rest.' FINIS Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press UrSlVJLK.»ll Y UJr I^AJUIfUKINlA 1.11SKAK.Y Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50m-7,'54 (5990)444 THE LIBRARY ^^ lB!aTBRSITY OF CALlFORNEI LOS ANGELES PR 6037 S]4256;^-17 lililjll il lill AA 000 379 912 9 *' T # I i