SEBASTOPOL, AND OTHER POEMS. BY E. DERBY. Great is the dignity of Authorship : I magnify mine office ; Albeit in much feebleness I hold it thus unworthily. Tuppee. LONDON: A. HALL, VIRTUE & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1857. CONTENTS. Sebastopol The Fall of Sebastopol Peace A Dream in a Graveyard Funeral Dirge to commemorate the Burial of the Duke of Wellington Dirge to commemorate the Death of the Duke of Pag< . 1 40 44 47 68 Rutland ... 71 Sir Gervase de Findern ... 77 Sally Knight ... 86 Fairy Song in Spring ... 100 Harvest Idyl ... 115 Honeysuckle ... ... 126 Hawthorn ... 130 The Ivy ... 134 Byron ... 136 Songs : 0, how shall I Tell to my Love ... 139 O, Who was it Told to my Love ... 142 Farewell to the Bliss ... 144 866178 iv CONTENTS. Songs : Revive in nay Bosom To Rosa A Song Hymns and Psalms : An Infant's Prayer The Twenty-third Psalm The First Psalm ... - Inscription for Jones' Monument Sonnets : For Jones' Monument On the Monastery of Mount Saint Bernard Written for a Tablet To the Rainbow ... On being asked for some Juvenile Verses 168 River Sonnets Soar Sonnets Canzonet Hymn to the Creator 147 149 152 153 155 159 163 164 165 166 167 169 181 182 183 fist of Subscribers, Anderson, Mr. G-., Leicester Argyle, Mr. J. W. „ Anderson, Mr. J., Melton Mowbray Abel, Mr. Tbos., Sheepsliead Beaumont, Sir Gr. H., Bart., Coloerton Biggs, Jolm, Esq., M.P., Leicester Biggs, William, Esq. „ Biggs, Jos., Esq., London Buck, Jolm, Esq., Leicester Brarnley, Mr. W. F. „ Bott, Mr. T. „ Brown, Mr. H. „ Barradale, Mr. J. „ Buttery, Miss „ Beales, Mrs. „ Bladon, Mr. F. F. „ Barsby, Mr. W. „ Bedells, Mr. C. Brice, Mr. Jolin „ Brown, Mrs. „ Bass, Mr. „ Baines, Mr. G. „ Baines, Mr. S. „ Burton, Mr. G., „ Branston, Mr. „ Beckett, Mr. J. S. „ Buttery, Mr., Thurcaston Bagley, Mr. J., Quenniborough Briggs, Mr. H., Quenniborough Black, Mrs. A., Melton Mowbray Bates, Miss E. M. „ Ball, Mr. E., Walthani Benson, Mr., Shefford Bonsher, Mr. J,, Whetstone Burdett, Mr. C, Lutterworth Copies. 1 1 1 1 1 4 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 vi LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Copies. 1 1 1 1 1 Brown, Mr. T., Lutterworth Baxter, Mr. Thos. „ Begley, Mr. J. » Bloxliani, Mr. E., „ ••• ■■• , Bowley, Mr. Jos., Quorndon Blackie, John, Esq., Glasgow Bowley, Mr. Thos., Loughborough Baldwin, Mr. G. Baldwin, Mr. B. „ Bowley, Mr. W. » Barker, Mr. Thos. „ ,,„;,• Brewin, Robert, jun., Esq., Birstall Hall Bailey, Miss A., Birstall Beer, Mr. E., Sheepshead Basford, Mr. J., Hathern Ball, Miss, Loughborough ... Barrowdiff, Mr., Loughborough Cooper, A., Esq., Leicester Cooper, Mr. E. S., „ Chambers, Mr. H. T. „ Checkley, Mr. T. Checkley, Mr. John „ Crisp, Mr. W. „ Chapman, Mr. G. „ Cooke, Mr. Jas. „ Crossley, G. 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Dracott, Mrs., Whetstone Davis, Miss, Melton Mowbray Dalby, Mr. T., Lutterworth De Frane, Rev. R. „ Dakin, Mr. D., Loughborough Dean, Mr. Jas., ,, Downey, P., Esq., Sileby Dalton, J. H., Esq. „ Douthwaite, Mr. J., Hathern Dalby, Miss I., Castle Donington Eagle, Mr. Jas. T. R., Leicester Evans, Mrs. F., Lutterworth Ellis, Mr. G, Ferrars, The Right Hon. the Earl, Staunton Harold Flowei", J., Esq., Leicester Freestone, Mr. T. „ Fare, Mr. W. L. Franks, Mr. F. Featherstone, Mr. Thos., Leicester Fletcher, Mr. John „ Firth, Mr. S. Ferneley, C. L., Esq., Melton M<>, FerraU, Rev. C. W. Copies. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 I 1 1 1 VU1 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Fearon, Rev. H., Loughborough Freeman, Mr. J. „ Freer, Mr. J., Rothley Goodyer, Mr. F., Leicester Gill, Mr. G. W. Goodacre, Mr. J., „ Greeu, Mr. J. „ Glasgow, Mr. G. „ Gamble, Mr. W. Gibson, Mr. J. F., Market Bosworth . . . Gillett, Rev. G. E., Waltham Gates, C. 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Heafford, Mr. R., Loughborough ... ... 1 Heafibrd, Miss A. „ Higgs, Mr. E. „ ... ... 1 Henson, Mr. H. „ ••• ... 1 Harrnnan, Mr. G, „ Hatton, Mr. G. „ ••• ... 1 Hall, Mrs., Sheepshead ... ... ... 1 Harriman, Mr. H., Hathern ... ... 1 Hind, John, Esq. , "Woodthorpe ... ... 1 Hurley, Mr., Lutterworth ... ... 1 Harley, Mr. W. S., Eothley ... ... 1 Hardy, Mrs., Hoton ... -•• ... 1 Iveson, Mrs., Leicester ... ... ... 1 Jones, Eev. T. „ Johnson, Mrs. „ Johnson, Mr. Jos. „ Johnson, Mr. E. W., Melton Mowbray... ... 1 Johnson Miss, Kirby Eellars ... ... 1 Jacques, James, Esq., Birstall Hill House ... 1 Jacques, Mr. W., Mountsorrel .-■ ... 1 Kelly, Mr. W., Leicester ... ... 1 Kirby, Mr. W. „ ... ... ... 1 Kemp, Mr. H. „ ... ... 1 Kemp, Mr. E. „ ... ... ... 1 Kemp, Mr. E. „ ... ... 1 Ken-, Mr. A. „ ... ... ... 1 Kerr, Mr. G. „ ... ... ... 1 Kerr, Mr. W. „ ... ... ... 1 Kitchen, Mr. A. G., Melton Mowbray ... ... 1 Kirk, Mr. W., Mountsorrel... ... ... 1 Legge, Eev. G., LL.D., Leicester ... ... 2 Lord, Mr. Joseph, „ ... ••■ 1 Long, Mr. W. „ ... ••• 1 Leadbeatfer, Miss, Burton Lazars ... ■ ■ • 1 Lucas, Mr. Joseph, Lutterworth ■ • ■ • • • 1 Le Butt, Mr. James, Syston - • • • • • 1 Lea, Mr. C. J. Lutterworth ... ... ■•• 1 Lambert, Captain J., Loughborough ... ... 1 Lawton, Eev. J., Wyraeswold ... ... 1 Lees, Mr. G, jun. Leicester... ... ... 1 Mursell, Eev. J. P. „ ... ... ... 1 McAll, Eev. E. W. „ ... ... ... 1 McCall, Mr. A. „ ... ... ... 1 McCloud, Mr. „ ... ... ... 1 LIST OF^STTBSCRIBEES. McAlpin, Mr. J., jun., Leicester McPherson, Mr. J. „ Maiming, Mr. C. „ Murby, Mr. E., jun. „ Mayne, Mr. W. „ Matin, A., Esq. „ Miller, Mr. T. W. H. Mays, Mr. O. „ Montgomery, Mr. A. S. „ Musson, Mr. F. „ Mott, Mr. „ Mountford, Mr. W. „ Mason, Mr. C. Syston Mason, Miss, Burton Lazars Main, Mr. J., Queniborough Miles, Mr. J., Melton Mowbray Miles, Mr.$W. „ Morrison, Mr. T., Waltham Morris, Mi-. T. "Wycombe ... Miles, Mi-. G-., Lutterworth... Middleton, E. 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N. „ ... ■•• - 1 Reynolds, Mr. W. „ ... ■■ ■■■ 1 Riley, Mr. G. „ ... ... 1 Redfern, Mrs. „ ... •■• — 1 Russell, Mr. B. „ ... ■•• — 1 Rose, Rev. W. „ ... ••■ — 1 Reid, Mr. „ ... ••• 1 Reid, Miss „ ... ••■ 1 Roberts, Mr. J. „ ... 1 Reeves, Mr. H. „ ... ... 1 Rowleston, Mrs., Somerby ... ... ■•• 1 Read, Mr. W., Bitteswell ... ■•• "■ 1 Raven, Mrs., Loughborough • • • 1 Rowland, Mr. W. „ ... 1 Roberts, Mr. J. „ ... 1 Stone, S., Esq., Leicester ... ... 2 Stevenson, G., Esq. „ ... - • • - ■ • 1 Spencer, Mr. J. „ 1 Stanyon, Mr. R. „ ... ... • 1 Sanders, Mr. T. J. „ ... ■•■ 1 Smeeton, Mr. J. „ 1 Spooner, T., Esq. ., 1 Sidley, C. M., Esq. „ 1 Sargeant, Mr. J. „ ■ ■ • 1 Spittlehouse, Mr. C. „ 1 Sykes, Mr. J . 1 Sykes, Mr. H. „ 1 Shenton, Mr. J. „ ... 1 Stenson, Mr. J. F. „ 1 Smith, Mr. R. „ . .. 1 Sibson, Mr. „ Shuttlewood, Mrs. Sills, Mr. J. ... 1 xii LIST OF SrBSCEIBEBS. Copies. Stafford, Mr. E., Leicester ... ... ... 1 Salt, W. H., Esq. ... ... 2 Sankey, Mr. E., Bulwel ... ... 3 Stowe, Mrs., Wycombe ... ... ... 1 Smith, Mr. J., Norwich ... ... 1 Sharp, Mr. E., Sheepshead ... ... ... 1 Simpson, Mr., Moimtsorrel . . . ... ... 1 Sporton, Mrs., Eothley ... ... ... 1 Snell, Mr. E., Thurmaston ... ... ... 1 Starbuck, Mr. J., Melton Mowbray ... ... 1 Smith, Mr. P., Waltham ... ... ... 1 Sharpe, Mr. E., Scalford ... ... ... 1 Stratton, Mrs., Aylestone ... ... ... 1 Sands, Mr. „ ... ... ... 1 Satchell, Eev. W. Loughborough ... ... 1 Smith, Eev. S. A. „ ... ... 1 Sayer, Mr. A. Gk „ ... ... 1 Squire, Mr. „ ... ... 1 Sowter, Mr. Gr. „ ... ... 1 Sudbury, Mr. J. „ ... ... 1 See, Mr., Lutterworth ... ... ... 1 Snow, Mr. J., Sileby ... ... • ■ • 1 Smith, Mr. W., Kegworth ... ... ... 1 Turner, T. C, Esq., Leicester ... ... 1 Toller, E., Esq., „ ... ... 2 Toller, G., Esq., „ ... ... 1 Thorp, Mr. J. „ ... ... 1 Toon, Mr. G. „ ... ... 1 Turner, Miss M. „ ... ... 1 Turner, Mr. E. „ ... ... 1 Turner, Mr. A. „ ■■■ ... 1 Tatlow, Mr. T. „ ... ... 1 Taylor, Mr. T. N. „ ... ... 1 Tyler, Mr. J. „ ... ... 1 Teasdale, Mr. J. „ ••■ ... 1 Taylor, Mr. P., Loughborough ... ... 1 Till, Mr. J. „ ... ... 1 Twells, Mr. J., Kegworth ... ... 1 Towne, Mr. J.. Melton Mowbray ... .. 1 Taylor, Mr. S. Sileby ... ... 1 Tomlinson, Mr. P. Lutterworth ... ... 1 Underwood, Jos., Esq., Mayor, Leicester ... 4 Viccars, Mr. S., Leicester ... ... ... 1 Viccars, Mr. T. „ ... ... ••• 1 LIST OF SUBSCBIBEES. Xlll Valentine, Mr. E., Leicester Whetstone, J., Esq. „ Wright, Mr. T. „ Wardle, Mr. R. „ Wykes, Mr. W., jun. „ Williamson, Mr. R. „ Wakerly, Mr. J. „ Wilson, Mr. W. „ Wesson, Mr. J. „ Whitmore, Mr. W. „ Wright, Mr. R, „ Weare, Miss H. M. J., Leicester Wrapp, Mr. W. „ Woodburn, Mr. J. „ Warner, Mr. J. H., Prestwold Wakerly, Mr. G\, Norwich Wilson, Mr. C. „ Whitchurch, R., Esq., Melton Mowbray Whitchurch, N., Esq. „ Whitehouse, Mr. E. „ Woolhouse. Mr. H. „ Wakeily, Mr. J. „ White, Mr. F. „ Woohner, Mrs., Gihnorton Waterfield, Rev. R., Thurcaston White, Mr., Castle Donington Walker, M r . H., Hoton Wilkinson, Mr., Barrow Copies. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 I 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 SONNET PREFATORY. ^CL-oro 1 I like not prose, and therefore when I write A preface, it must be a poem too, Whose measures may be very brief and few, And so, dear reader, what I here indite, I give with all humility to you, Hoping that you may reap the same delight, Which has been mine while from my hand it grew, For poesy has been to me a love, — A passion — wherein I have ever found The holiest joy on this inferior ground, And most akin to that which is above, Thrilling the quiring hosts which circle round The throne of Jesus, and like his who spoke And all the swarming worlds in music woke. SEBASTOPOL: AN ODE ON THE RUSSIAN WAR. I. Beat, beat the drum, the brazen trumpet sound, Proclaim the war, proclaim the war, The long-drawn cohorts proudly draw, Flaming in scarlet all the cities round : Waken valor's lambent fire, Sons of Albion, aspire To honour, glory, fame, distinction, come ; Hark to the clarion trump, the hollow drum ; Flock to the standard, the red flaming cross, The royal Lion, Judah's banner old ; The imperial stripes of Red, White, Blue, which toss And bellow in the skies as they unfold : The Crescent, Cross, and Tricolor unite, England, up, up to arms, and hurry to the fight. SEBA3T0P0L. What ! shall the Russian Autocrat proclaim, He goes to snap the conscience chains, Which Turkey o'er her subjects strains ? Concealing in vile subterfuge his aim, With his hungry dogs of war, To unite them to his car, And drag them in discomfiture behind, Through their own streets with ghastly corpses lined? Shall Poland cry in vain, Warsaw subdued By tens of thousands slain in one red day, Surrendered prisoners murdered in cold blood, The sword slew on while there was one to slay ; And shall the Bosphorus be choked with slain ? Shall Turkey cry for help, and cry for help in vain ? It was enough, in times gone by, For nations Britain to defy, And spread their crowding sails towards England's shores, To rouse the nation as one man, The liberty which man adores, To save from tyrant despot's ban. Noble as Patriots 'tis to rise — But when a neighbour nation cries, SEBASTOPOL. S In the strong grasp of murderous power, Weak in herself and impotent — O then to aid her, in that hour, Makes you like angels for deliverance sent. In old Britain hist'ries tell, It was easy to excite Patriot fervour to repel Th' invader of her right. In naked, wild barbarians, Sweet liberty this fervour fans : But 'tis at best a selfish cause ; In us should nobler motives swell, Who hold the self ignoring laws, Of the meek Emanuel. And therefore, Christian England, rise and save, Or Turkey's strangled state will curse you from its grave. ii. And not in vain the invitation spread ; With bugle call the cities rang, The stalwart youths responsive sprang, Shouldered the piece, and donned the jacket red ; Field and factory, mine and mart, Render tributary part. Dissuasive words are disregarded all, And tears fast trickling ineffectual fall. 4 SEBASTOPOL. The soft endearments of enamoured maid, The pressed entreaties of a mother fond, A father's thoughtful admonitions aid, But he breaks loose from sweet affection's bond, To seek the man-destroying trade, nor hears His parents wise behests, nor marks his true love's tears. ir. 'Tis bootless effort, for the proud desire Of martial fame has filled his breast, Abevant love, scornful of rest, Only in blood of foes can quench his ire. Ominous red meteors rise, Comets stalk across the skies, Portentous with their fiery hair outspread ; Aurora of the North vast legions led, Phantasmal vague, which to the zenith rose, Embattled squadrons, rank on rank, and seemed Innumerous legions of our Norsemen foes, Cossack, and Muscovite, Norwegian, teemed Like grain upon the garner floor, untold In number, and as fierce as wolves upon the fold. ii. The sons of toil their service bring ; Hark to the axe's ponderous ring, SEBASTOPOL. The woods re-echo with redoubled blows, The bloodless wounds expand apace, The monarch trees which stately rose, Their proud length on the greensward trace, Thundering like giants, armour dressed, Who fall when by the foe oppressed, Tumultuating'all the air ; Denuded then of branches wide, Which spread in due proportion fair, The trunks are on the creaking waggon tied ; Straining beasts convey the load, Painful over mount and moor, Panting beneath the lash and goad, They drag them to the shore : Quickly by busy multitude They 're sawn, and planed, and closely glued, Till the broad sides and bulging prow Expand, and on its decks ascend The towering masts in stately row, And bellying sails distend. The stately ship is launched upon the wave, Prepared for foreign seas, and manned with Britons brave. in. It is the Poet's most alluring task To sing of nature's sweet unrest. 6 SEBASTOPOL. Spring in her verdant mantle drest, In summer's proud magnificence to bask, Autumn's blending colours shine Fairer on his lingering line, And winter's snowy garb with hurtling storm, And sweet domestic hearth with snug nook warm : To list the soft song of the rippling rill, And catch the tones of thundering waterfall, Inspire him with congenial strain, and fill His soul with pabulum ambrosial: But I must dash the honeyed cup aside, And with mad Discord plunge in war's ensanguined tide. in. Of all those nine who on Parnassus siug, Whom shall I call ? not her who wears The azure robe, and on her forehead bears The crown of stars— Ah ! none my call will bring ; Of those nine, Peace they adore, And detest war's awful roar. Bellona, raise the battle's crash and groan. And dwell upon each horrifying tone, That I may sing of War's destructive rage : But for Peace's victories retain, After the horrid tale one snowy page, My Muse, then sing how arts aspire again ; SEBASTOPOL. How industry revives, how commerce grows, And over all the earth its friendly net-work throws. in. Behold the modern Argives stand, Prepared to launch away from land, And cross the foaming sea to some new Troy, Two hundred sail wait in the bay. Say where these warriors shall employ Their arms, who for a fair wind stay? Where the dark Euxine laves the strand Of Tartary, there is a land, Stretching oblong into the sea ; Here ended Tamerlane's fierce reign, Crirn Tartary, Crimea, we Define ; once called Taurica of the main. Round its rock-bound coast the sea Ever frets in stormy ire — A fitting nursery for the free, What quenched the freeman's fire ? What laid the Grecian cities low, Whence busy trade did ebb and flow ? Rome triumphs, and its wealth expires, 'Tis then by Tamerlane o'errun, Who devastates it with his fires, When the Sultan's reign begun. SEBASTOPOL. Last Eussia's Catharine victorious came, Henceforth it owns as ruler that rapacious dame. IV. Sing now my muse, how shall these meet the foe, How shall they arm — say what shall they assume, Direful to heap the reeking hecatomb, Dreadful to make the purple torrents flow ? Shall they don the steel cuirass ? Or the sevenfold shield of brass ? Or shall they poise the barbed javelin? Or on the brow the plumed helmet pin ? So towering Ajax coped with Hector fierce, Such arms forged Vulcan for sage Peleus' son, Which, tempered so as foe could never pierce, Would poorly shield 'gainst Nasmyth's monster gun The ponderous battering-ram, the ancients bore, The cannon supersedes of dreadful deafening roar. IV. Earth's crust is cleft, and from her secret cells Nitrous and sulphurous explosives drawn, And from the wood the sapling trees are sawn, Which, charred and mingled with quick movement, swells, SEBASTOPOL. 9 When the igneous spark is thrown 'Midst, struck from the flinty stone, And instant lodges in the foeraan's heart Jove's thunderbolt ; and life wells from the part. Next the stout heart of granite rocks revealed, Gives to the finer's hand the fusive ore, In chasms remote for countless ages sealed, And from primeval time still kept in store : Heaped on the furnace the hot metal glows, Tumultuating fierce, and thence in red stream flows. IV. A plastic mould receives the ore, Which flows therein with rush and roar, The torrid metal gradual subsides, The fragile earth then torn aside, Eeveals where flowed the restless tide, A solid tower ; tall, dignified : Now the strong genius " vapor" wakes, And rod, and cog, and strapped wheel shakes ; Kevolving with incessant din, And grasps with Cyclop strength the ore, And scoops a central chamber in The metal : and the gun receives its bore. This receives projectile dread, Couched within its gaping throat, 10 SEBASTOPOL. Ponderous ball, or shell instead, Fused shell, or iron shot. Which belching forth with deafening sound, Carries destruction dire around. The one to its foundation shakes The solid wall of stout defence, Or the embattled squadron rakes, Mowing down the squares immense, The other takes terrific circle high, And men and masonry in mingled ruin lie. v. Embarked, the buoyant ships sail from the bay, Bearing their living freight of warlike men : Merlin ! prophetic bard, come forth again, From thy long sleep of ages rise and say, With thy robe of spotless white, On the towering cliff alight ; Proclaim what saith the oracle divine, With that sage mien, and that deep voice of thine "Go on your enterprize of peril — go, The fates in much perplexity proclaim Decisive victory, but your blood must flow In torrents to accomplish your high aim, And to achieve it holocausts must rise, And you, devoted band, must heap the sacrifice. SEBASTOPOL. 11 " Not only by the sword and slaughter dire, Not only in the battle's feverish strife ; But decimating sickness shall be rife, Your frames will be consumed by fever's fire ; In the tropic regions faint, Where the putrid marshes taint The air with exhalations dank and dire ; Where cholera doth rage and swell the funeral pyre ; Or, hence transferred to wintry sloughs and pools, The damp earth for a bed, while the chill air Frosty and harsh the curdling life stream cools, And death in guise of sleep transfixes there ; While from the leaguered city, iron rain Incessant falls and spreads destruction o'er the plain." v. He ceased ; and melting from the view, Like to a snowy cloud withdrew : His voice sank slowly like the dying breeze, Which whilom roared in stormy power, Just whispers through the trembling trees, In twilight fall of evening hour. The fleet o'er the wide ocean glides, 12 SEBASTOPOL. Then sails where frowns Gibraltar's strait, — Europe and Africa divides At this majestic ocean gate, — Then steering- east, they passed the land Renowned in ode sublime and Epic grand, Greece — where Agamemnon reigned, Ithaca, Ulysses' isle ; And there stood Ilion, which was gained By ten long years of toil. The Dardanelles they quickly crossed, The Euxine now receives the host ; Now sheer across the sea they bend, The fleets of Gallia beside, And to a western harbour wend, Kalamita harbour wide. And here they disembark, though tempests high Tumultuate the sea, and blacken in the sky. VI. Six times the sun had risen and gone down, While toilsomely the armies march abreast, The seventh day dawns empurpling the East, Behold upon the sloping hill's high crown, Swarming thick, innumerous, The dusk army of the Euss, While on the slope portentous batteries SEBASTOPOL. 13 In their grim strength with deep entrenchments rise. At base a beauteous valley spreads with vines, And orchard trees with ripening fruits embossed, And intersecting it a river shines, Which must by the invading force be crossed : Now down the northern heights compact and slow The blended armies inarch, and form to charge the foe. VI. Ranged on the northern margin of the stream, They stand expectant, panting for the fray, Six legions of ten thousand each display Banners and bayonets to the sunny beam. Where the river joins the sea, First is Prance's chivalry, In squadrons twain divided, Bosquet one And Canrobert the other leadeth on. On these the labor is devolved to scale The cliffs ; and where the enemy is weak And unprepared, him in his flank assail, And with sly stratagem his forces break ; The supple African Zouaves prepare Noiseless to lead the assault, and climb the rocky stair. VI. Great Britain's army next appears, Flashing her forests four of spears. 14 SEBASTOPOL. First are the Eusileers, Brown their chief, Lightly equipp'd to cross the stream, Next to afford them quick relief, The Highlanders in Tartan gleam, These with the Guards and Grenadiers, In threatening phalanx serried stand, Duke Cambridge at their head appears, This day proved worthy to command. The next De Lacy Evans led, The last, cheered on hv Richard England, bled. There they stand, — terrific sight, — Awful pause that moment is, Each glancing at the orb of light, No more expects its rise ; Each wafts a sigh to distant home, Bids friends farewell, and stern death come ; And then by momentary prater To heaven for pardon for the past, Is nerved with strong resolve to dare Death in the dire cannon's blast : O ! who can tell the pangs which they must feel. Who rush on sudden death, in fire or piercing steel. VII. The word " Advance !" is heard, and soon obeyed, The Gallic armies simultaneous plash SEBASTOPOL. 15 Across the stream, and up the hill-side dash ; Meanwhile the cunning Moors of Algiers played Stealthily their crafty part, Up the shelving cliff they dart, Clinging with grasp tenacious like the race Feline, and, like the goat, agile of pace : The summit reached, they charge the startled foe, And put them to a temporary rout ; But quick recovering from their panic, lo ! The Russian cannon fiery torrents spout, Well aimed and deadly ; hideous gaps appear, And in their turn at length, the Zouaves quail with fear. VII. But rising o'er the thunder of the fight, Which deafens now in front as in the flank, They hear their comrades' voices, and the rank Of Bosquet's corps glimpses in lurid light. Keinspired, they charge again, (Back the foe recoils amain), And with their blent conglomerated power, Again encounter the death-dealing shower. They have attained the terrible Redoubt, And on its wall infixed the flag of France, When Menschikoff, appriz'd of the rout In flank, bids from the front supports advance, 16 SEBASTOPOL. And with fresh guns, with tire unceasing fed And weight of troops immense, again the Frenchmen bled. VII. While doubtful seemed the contest here, Though the French still disdained to fear, The English from their covering ambush rise First the light regiments form and dash Across the stream, while round them flies The furious fiery shots which lash The waters;— while in mid stream struck, Many a brave man sinks and dies, And reddens with his blood the brook, While sinks his corpse no more to rise : But all who reach unscathed the shore, Be-form, and to the charge undaunted pour. While advancing up the height, Twenty cannons belch their flame, When the smoke lifts, (appalling sight,) Hideous gaps of death proclaim How well directed was the fire ; They struggle on, nor quail, nor tire. At length they reach the first stockade, Whereon they plant the banner proud : But now the enemy displayed Their masses like a cloud, SEBASTOPOL. IT And bore them down with columns huge of troops, So from the thundering Alp the awful glacier swoops. VIII. Now to th' assault the first division springs, The Guards who late at Waterloo o'erthrew The flower of France, —upon the Russians flew. The Celts, who own a hundred warrior kings, (While the smitten Welsh retire Reeling from the Russiau fire) Dauntless though volleyed hurricanes still flew, Which hundreds of their valiant comrades slew : They march unquailing, and the foemen's fire Return effectual as they struggle on, And now with bayonet erected dire, Swoop on the foe like shrill Euroclydon ; While with sheer force the enemy they drive, Evans and England on the scene of strife arrive. vni. And now the battle has attained its height, And crash, and cry, and gasp, and groan, prevail, And now those deep ravines pour through the vale Streams of red blood instead of waters bright : c. L 18 SEBASTOPOI.. Smoke ascending hides the sun In a cloudy vapour dun : While from the height, and from the vale resound The cannon's roar and muskets' shriller sound. The dead and dying lie and faster fall, Heaps upon heaps and hideous clog the path, The stoutest heart who paused, it might appal, Who stood to view the trophies of his wrath, But he who pauses dies, — they close ! they close ! The hostile armies join, more loud the clamour rose. VIII. On, On, the Guards resistless rushed, Back, back, the yielding foe they pushed. And right and left through paths of slaughter went The English, driving back the foe, Surmounting each impediment, They push them to the summit slow. Victors, they reach the heights, and here Huddled like sheep their foes appear ; Yet, rallying, the charge await, The contest seems again to frown, 'Tis but a pause of certain fate, And panic struck, they rush the steep hill down. Of that confident array, Who, when morning lit the hill, SEBASTOPOL. 19 Save those who, vanquished, fled away, Eemains but corpses still ; And mangled sufferers who lie, All left to agonize and die. The Anglo-Gallic army claims The victory, and the battle's won. Fresh glories now entwine the names — France and rock-bound Albion ! But, what is victory ? 'tis an empty sound, Weep, France and England, weep, its cost upon that ground. IX. And now instead of the harsh din of strife, Swells on the ear the wounded's painful wail, Who mixed among the dead, distorted, pale, Painfully gasp and groan away their life; Foe and friend there mingled lie, Friend and foe together die : There France and England on that mount behold Your best and bravest passionless and cold ; Some with their eyes retaining still that gaze Of energy intense with which they bore The Russian fire, whose unremitting blaze Met them as in its awful range they tore ; Some calm as infants, some distorted look, Telling how pain convulsed when life their frames forsook. c 2 20 SEBASTOi'OL. IX. There lay the heaps of corpses where they fell, Russian, and French, and English, and among, Some who the lingering span of life prolong, Blaspheming some, while yet this side of hell ; Some for mercy crying faint, Gazing some on pictured saint, And miserably groaning some, and more Crawling with shattered limbs the corpses o'er : And speedful now, and zealously the men Who had escaped the chances of the fray, Ensheath their swords, lay by their arms, and then Bear tenderly their wounded friends away, And others bury, sans the funeral prayer, Commingled friend and foe together crowded there. IX. When sank the sun that night to rest, Beneath the sea's unruffled breast, The victors of that bloody day repose Upon that hill of carnage bare, O'er which, in silent pomp, arose The moon, and stars attending fair; SF.BASTOPOL. 21 As on that ghastly hill they sleep, Some, melancholy vigils keep, Tearfully searching 'mong the dead For friend or brother who is slain, And mingled undistinguished With one of those huge heaps the sods which stain : Others, aided by the light, Which the moon serenely sheds, Toilsomely labor through the night To raise the drooping heads, And quench the burning thirst of those Who gasp for drink 'mong friends and foes. Ferocity and deadly hate Are hushed, and charity revives ; And tenderly compassionate The zealous warrior strives, Not with the foemen's blood to glut his rage, But render healing balm, and dying pangs assuage. x. Another day the sun his circuit took, Another night the moon her quiet round Repeating, paused above the blood-stained ground ; Nor yet have all the dead that hill forsook ; Still the maimed are borne away, Tenderly unto the bay, 22 SEBASTOPOL. Where in the ships outstretched, the bleeding wound Is staunched, and with restoring plaster bound. When the next morning o'er the East hill dawned, The drum, and trump, and bugle note arose, And the supine and sleeping legions warned, To rise and follow their retreating foes : Quick from the sward the serried ranks arise, And their innumerous spears gleam star-like in the skies. x. Now forming squares, then lengthening out in lines, They march in slow procession down the hill, And soon the place is desolate and still ; And now no dew-gemmed flower enjewelled shines, Nor from mossy nest rose high, Lark its matin hymn to try, Nor on the herbage graze the various flocks ; Peace has returned, but peace it is which shocks : There swell portentous mounds, high, horrible, And here decaying horses prostrate lie, And broken musket, and exploded shell, And tattered garment drenched in double dye : While yet some wounded, pining, wait their turn, And shiver with the rheum, or with the fever burn. SEBASTOPOI. 23 X. O'er dusty roads, through sheltering woods, Pour on the serried multitudes, Fast on the traces of the flying foe ; When mid day has been three hours gone. They rest where Katcha's waters flow, And the next morning journey on : And there revealed Aktiar stands, Encircled with its granite bands, Those forts terrific which infold The bay, and bristle fierce with guns, A sight at which may quail the bold, So momentary quailed e'en Britain's sons. Sudden, turning to the left, Now the hostile army veers, By a deflected movement deft ; And on the south appears, There holding on the south and west, The sea, secure the armies rest, Here the ships steer, and land supplies Of food, and tents, mattock and spade, And slow the earth-built batteries rise ; Ditch and covering trench are made ; And thus they to the leaguered city draw, And wait the dread assault with inexpressive awe. 24 SERASTOPOL. XI. Athwart the whole of the broad city's bound, The enemy wrought counter works immense, And mounted with innumerous guns from whence, Harrassing volleys unremittent sound : And in nightly sorties poured, When their guns no longer roared. And now another enemy appeared (And before him all quailed ; who seldom feared The weaponed warrior)— Winter, fierce and cold, Stern, and unbending, and invincible ; Before him sink the timid and the bold, And now the doleful lists of fallen swell : The starved oxen on the sloughy roads, Sink fainting in the mire, and die beneath their loads. XI. Alas ! and culpable neglect was rife, Clothing and food abundant were, and good, But both were left corrupting in the mud, And then came awful elemental strife, Now inhospitable sea, Or the *Axine it might be, Euxinef no more, for from his secret cells * Axine, inhospitable sea. t Euxine, hospitable sea. SEBASTOPOL. 25 Eolus issues, and the tempest swells, Summons from South, and West, and East all airs, With stormy sea and with a lowering sky, Full swoop upon the transport vessels bears, And now they're plunged beneath, and now tossed high ; At length cast sheer upon the rocky shore They sink and also whelm the armies' winter store. XI. Now dark and dreary winter past, Subsided was the piercing blast, Spring with reviving radiance comes forth, With verdant green and rosy bloom, And drives the angry tempests north ; While opening flowers distil perfume : And now the pining lack supplied, And now the muddy causeway's dried, And now herculean navvies sent From England, lay the iron track, Which brings them all things to content, And nerves them for the hazardous attack. While they creep the fortress nigh, Not inactive are the foe ; And strong defences they rear high, To guard the town below ; 36 SEBASTOPOL. From the extremest western bav, Forts, ditches, walls, grim strength display, Joining the Eedan — battery vast — Which bv connecting earth works link ; The Malakoff in long chain cast Round the city's southern brink : These are the chief, before the last the French, Before the first the English dig the covered trench. XII. The sun's revolving axle had been sped Above the horizon, but some circles few, When from the attacking lines a signal flew ; And simultaneous burst fiery red, One broad sheet of lurid flame, Volleyed charge hurled to its aim ; And promptly all the hostile works reply, And the death-dealing volleys ceaseless fly. O'er all the scene dull murky vapors hang, Hiding beleaguers and beleagured both, Thunders rebellow, and amid the clang Old Terra shakes, convulsed as if in wrath, Or when the air blew up the veil of smoke, White shoue the city's fanes, when the fierce volleys broke. SEBASTOPOL. 2 7 XII. But soon their fair pre-eminence is gone, Shattered and overthrown they fall around : Anon o'erwhelming all the battle's sound, Concussion terrible drowns every tone, Volumes huge of flames arise, Lurid, lighting all the skies, Awe-struck amazement chains each hostile hand, With momentary fear dropping the fusive brand, The lurid column sinks, and where it sank, A livid one aspires of dust and smoke. Again each gunner from the sheltering bank Creeps forth, again the volleyed thunders woke, "Wide the conglomerated smoke cloud spread, Athwart the murky gloom gleamed forth the lightning red. XII. So through a lengthen'd summer's day, Proceeds the cannonading fray, Till the deep sea the sun's bright axle laves ; When sober twilight hides the scene, The clamorous din no longer raves, But pauses through the night serene. But when the batteries cease to sound, Deep groans arise from every mound. 28 SEBASTOPOL. From trench to tent slow escorts wend, And bear the wounded to his bed, Where o'er him patient surgeons bend, Staunch the wide wound, or blood congealed shed Thus a Sabbath clay was spent, O how differently, where From many a sacred fane was sent To heaven the solemn prayer ; And to the skies the tuneful notes Of praise swelled from innumerous throats. But there's no Sabbath kept in war, The insatiate fiend of carnage gluts Still unappeased his ravenous maw ; Its crimson vortex shuts, Only when liberty regains her throne, And sceptre'd despotism is crushed and overthrown XIII. What time the dawn suffused the Eastern skies, The trenches swarmed with soldiers who had come In crowded squadrons covered by the gloom Of murky night — the Eussian to surprise : Each in three divisions waits, Till the day his orient gates, Unfolds to light the awful path they tread, Path soon to be a harvest field of dead j SEBASTOPOL. 29 And as they pause with blanched lips tightly pressed, Appears before each rustic conscript's soul, His thatched abode, his spouse at home unblest, The fields he ploughed, where glassy rivers roll, And as they pass, he bids them all farewell, Big tears course down his cheeks, and his heart -anguish tell. XIII. Soon as the signal rocket pierced the skies, Mayran arose and straight his legions sprang, Aloof the trenches, when terrific rang The air, and o'er the plain red ruin flies : Hurricanes of shot and shell, On those few devoted fell, And hundreds fall, smote by the fatal balls, And Mayran at their head in death's throes falls ; Sawrin succeeds, and rallying they advance, And reinforcements also press behind, But thick as hail the deadly missiles dance, The plain with swelling heaps of dead is lined, And now confused and broken they recoil, And their fair ranks and full, wide wasteful chasms spoil. XIII. "While these in panting haste retreat, Brunet starts eager to his feet. 30 SEBASTOPOL. Waving his gleaming brand, cries "Charge ! men ! charge !" And to the centre of the tower They rush ; (which on the hill swells large) And press through decimating shower. Severely wounded by a ball, Brunet, too, fell ; they see him fall, Quail in the tempest which rains down, Waver and turn, and beaten fly, Discomfited and overthrown, Disordered to the trench they hurried hie : Meanwhile Autemara starts, With his Zouaves lithe and bold, And fleet as deer the regiment darts, Dauntless ; though still there rolled The awful tide of scathing fire, Which almost mowed down ranks entire : The fiery gauntlet run, they reach The wall, and up the ladders press, And swarm into the opening breach, Meeting there a fierce caress, And hand to hand they fight, — the Kussians yield, And on the wall the French tri-color is revealed. xiv. Thus while the French the Malakoff assail, To rest supine the English all disdain, And press in three divisions o'er the plain. SEBASTOPOL. 31 First Yea led through the blinding, blasting hail, Thick as rain in Autumn squalls, Slanting so the red rain falls, And stooping as the traveller stoops before The rainy sleet, so stoop these soldiers fro re. Fast falling, thick as the ripe ranks of wheat Before the reaper. They are broken soon ; But rallying and re-forming still their feet, Urged by their leader, to th' embrasures rim ; But now he is arrested by a shell, And panic-struck they fled as Yea, transfixed, fell. XIV. Upon the left the fourth division speeds, Led on by Campbell, and alike they fall, Swept down by awful avalanche of ball ; Still as they tread, they quail like quivering reeds. Foremost stalks their leader high, Where the thickest missiles fly, " Forward !" he cries, " Remember Alma, men, Fight for your country now, as ye fought then !" Reanimated thus, though falling fast, As leaves in Autumn from the linden trees, Which choke the pathway, by the stormy blast Torn off, so likewise choke the pathway these, Now stricken in their van, brave Campbell dies, And the spent squadron turns, and panic-stricken flies, 32 SEBASTOFOL. XIV. Now that each flank attack has failed. Which both sides the Redan assailed, And that the central charge stops short, dismayed, The Russians reinforcements send, Swarming like bees to render aid To those who Malakoff defend ; O'erwhelmed, the valorous Frenchmen fly, And flying, hundreds smitten die : The sanguinary struggle done, Tremendous loss, and sore defeat Glooms o'er the camp at set of sun, Sad sorrow rears in every breast its seat. On the morrow truce they call, And they mutual mingle then, In sad procession bearing all The dead and wounded men : These heaped in one promiscuous grave They bury, and those try to save. Beside the noble names who fell, Recounted in this dolorous lay, Another the sad list must swell, Hero, he, of many a fray : Unsmitten by the sword, Lord Raglan died, Each soldier's veneration, and the army's pride. SEBASTOPOL. XV. 33 Repulsed, but not defeated, the Allies Constant renew the labors of the siege, Trench after trench and zigzag way they dredge, Till at the Malakoff's abattis rise, France's earthworks pressed close nigh, Though the English distant lie, Prevented by the hard and rocky ground, "Which met the axes with a tough rebound ; Meanwhile colossal magazines were filled To overflowing with abundant store, And massive ordnance to the front were wheeled, Mortars immense, and cannons deep of bore, And now with line extended all prepare, The storm to recommence and the assault to dare. xv. They now anticipate the morn, and pour A storm of shot through all the lengthened line, Which, with its smoke, forbade the sun to shine, And shook the earth with its terrific roar. From the foemen's batteries fell, Quick response of shot and shell ; Through the long day, the iron rain ran hot, And sudden fate was many a brave man's lot ; D : "jj.-c: " : : I;_:^^- :i re-re?: ._:l.1 ;z - - - ii,:v r:_ -^.r- £ _- ?"— J ^iiCT- : ii; i^_^£ . :^_ i_i" — _ - v _ r . ._..._: - * r - • — ;■:_-._ if :_ .-: ::' :-:•:-_ Ci '.". ' - - Had barat, — igai: And in eke bay a skip waa Me i ?".;n • _ - .•: -. .•;_- : ; .r :-.. jorro» eke aaaacdt wiQ aoee agakt be beared. ■ " La France" ipon. tkeir lips, aid in. tkeir kaai Aad to the breach, ispetooae sprang aws; Heaps oc. neaps eke fbeaaai die, A- I .L'.- -.it ::_ : :it ": "^jrT 36 SEBASTOPOL. O'er them intense the lava showers dance, Each step a comrade shrieks, and falls, and dies : Struggling through the iron flakes, Furious the path which rakes, They cross the plain, and at the work arrive, Close with the foe upon its summit strive, And drive them thence with stubborn, torturing, steel, And charge the inner traverse where they stand, And from embrasures deadly volleys deal, And swarm upon the roof, and shake the trenchant brand : Then sudden like a vulture on its prey They swoop, and in the ditch transfixed the English lay. XVI. Thus while upon the English fell Disaster deep and terrible, The French are tottering to their overthrow, When, hark ! a shout, " The Chasseurs come !" And countless hordes swarm from below, To seal the Russian stronghold's doom. Precipitate the enemy Across the work and traverse flee, The French are masters of the mount, The battle's o'er, the victory's won, And their's the city they may count Before the setting of to-morrow's sun. SEBASTOPOL. 37 High ascended on that morn, Smoking up to heaven's height, A flame from all the town forlorn, And in its lurid light, And under cover of its screen, Retreating fast the foe is seen : Hurried the bridge of boats they cross, The conflagration spreads behind, Whose flames in wild contortions toss, Rave and bellow in the wind, While loud explosions hurtle in the sky, A heap of calcined stones Sebastopol doth lie. XVII. Carnage, farewell, upon the horrid scene, My muse, let now the curtain fall, Enswathe it in oblivion's pall, 0, weave no garland of perpetual green, To adorn the victors' brow, Grief, not joy is fittest now : The orphan children grieve their fathers slain, The widowed wives with streaming tears complain, Bereaved grey heads for their dead sons weep, The state itself goes mourning for those men Who in the trenches of Aktiar sleep, Though it exults that they were faithful then : But ah ! that ruined heap, that burning pile, Mocks even triumph's shout with a sardonic smile. 38 SEBASTOPOL, XVII. But yet, my muse, forget uot to relate, How thus with noble sacrifice, Freedom springs up where valor dies, And they are men who were effeminate. Sloth like shrivelled skin is cast, Toil the indolent at last, And if for civil wrong men nobly dare Into the very jaws of death to stare, What in the inner world will they not do, — The armed infernals of the soul to slay ? Will they not to the death the fiend pursue, Retake the stronghold mansoul, and array Constant the forces which the Lamb doth give, Who saith to who are his n Only in me ye live." XVII. Redeem, my muse, thy pledge, and sing The victories from Peace which spring ; See in the waste fair Palaces arise, With columned porch and marble floor, And fretted roof where thousand dyes Gild the carved ceiling o'er and o'er, Immortal live the noble dead — SEBASTOPOL. 39 Upon those walls depictured, And nature with an added charm, Unfolds her loveliest landscapes there, And sculptures all the human form In everything but throbbing warmth declare. Labor shackles now the steed, And the stubborn soil upturns, Scatters bounteously the seed, And nature o'er it yearns, Till from its grave the serried wheat Eises and gives man bread to eat : Commerce takes food, apparel, gems, Spices and perfumes, and she lades Big ships, and boundless oceans stems, With remotest language trades : Peace, waft thy argosies to every shore, Hasten the happy time when War shall be no more. 40 THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. The Russian lay couched like a bear in his den, And the armies of Europe environed him then, Like hounds to their quarry they rushed on his lair, And planted the banner of victory there. But he crept from his covert and stood to the foe, And growled grim defiance, and dealt blow for blow, And like dogs whom the beast of the forest has slain, Their corpses are heaped on the bastion and plain. And he plashed through the gore to the standard which waved, But the remnant of heroes his violence braved, And they clung round their flag, and each hero that day With the might of his arm kept a hundred at bay. FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. 41 But the thousands of Russia in tall billows came, Like the sea when the heavens are sheeted with flame ; When the boats of the fishers are cast on the strand, Like the shells of the ocean which chequer the sand. So they came and they drove back the remnant of Gaul, Who tottered and trembled on Malakoff's wall, And the dark wave was hurrying to drift them away, And the heart of the Frenchman nigh sank in dismay. But the war cry of Gallia was heard on the height, And the wave which was pausing recoiled in affright ; As the waters of Jordan, when Israel marched through, So the Russians retreat as the Frenchmen pursue. That night, when the horrible carnage was done, And the Malakoff Tower by the Frenchman was won, From the city devoted, a smoke did arise Which beclouded — and flame which ensanguined — the skies. And the groans of the dying are drowned with the noise Of the furious flame which the city destroys, And those terrible ramparts which girded the bay, Explode with concussion, and vanish away. 42 FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. And the watchers that night as they stood to their arms- In vigilant heed to secure from alarms — Saw revealed by the flames of the city and fleet, The hordes of the Kuss o'er the harbour retreat. And there as they fled like the glittering train Of Pharaoh, which sank in the gulph of the main, The deep rose in anger and swept them aside, And their corpses were drifted away on the tide. On the morrow a heap of black ruins was seen, Where lately the squadrons of Russia had been, And the ashes fell thick round the tent of the foe, As the manna which Israel gathered like snow. And the vessels whose myriad mouths had frowned fear To the heart of Byzantium, all disappear ; Yester'morn, where they gracefully dipped on the wave, They now lie engulphed in a fathomless grave. O'er the sea flew the tidings : the Muscovite heard Of Russia's defeat, and his anguish was stirred; He wept not for those who had fall'n in the fray, He wept for her prowess, which perished that day. FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. And the tidings flew also to Britain and Gaul, And the clangour of bells told Sebastopol's fall ; And the trumpet of triumph waxed loud in its blast, And the banner streamed proudly from steeple and mast, And the eyes of the people swam over with joy, And the greetings were glad, but were mixed with alloy, For in palace and cottage, the loss of the slain Was more to their tenants than glory and gain. 44 PEACE Peace, peace, wake my muse, tell the charm which atteudeth The mellow-toned words I have whispered, — arise ! Inspire, while I jubilant sing how it endeth The strife, and the tears of the sorrowing dries. Be comforted, mother, the struggle is over, Thy sons will return with their green laurels crowned ; And though there is one which the dank sods now cover, Let thy sorrow with joy of the spared ones be drowned. Weep, widow, no more, for thy husband, who perished In battle : he fell in defence of the right ; Than wife, or than life, there's a thing he more cherished, In the great cause of freedom he entered the fight. PEACE. 45 Poor desolate orphan ! thou canst not with weeping Revive the dead bones of thy father, which lie Where the vict'ry was won by his prowess — but reaping Thou art the good fruits ; then thy streaming eyes dry. Brother, sister, repine ye no longer your lost one, Begrudge not your country the best and the brave ; His soul may be blessed, though his body be tossed on The field where he fought, or submerged in the wave. Exult that the foe they have fought with, is vanquished, And freedom and peace — boons no money can buy — Are gained, and though well may your lone hearts be anguished, Drop a tear to the earth — raise a smile to the sky. And join me, and sing of that peace they have bought us, Which pray we, may never be taken away ; And oh ! let us ponder the lesson they've taught us, To live and to die for each other, as they. There's peace in the state, when the foreign invader All broken retires, and discomfited flies : Then Peace is an angel ; old bards have arrayed her Descending with wreaths of fair flowers from the skies. 46 PEACE. There's peace with the birds in their leafy groves singing There's peace where the green verdure mantles the hills There's peace in the valley where king cups are springing There's peace with meandering, musical rills. There's peace in the market, where labor has centred The fruits of the earth and the triumphs of art ; And there's peace in the fact'ry where industry entered, And genius came to bid slow toil depart. There's peace in the home where sweet love is embosomed, And hearts are entwined as the ivy and oak ; Where the loves of fair wife and fond husband have blossomed, The heart's deepest fountains of bliss to evoke. There's peace in the conscience, where memory never Clasps hands with remorse in a dolorous tie ; But integrity raises its dauntless brow ever, Nor fears to lay bare its fair breadth to the sky. But the peace which beyond every other endureth, Is that which the Christian in heart only knows ; For he who holds this in his bosom ensureth, In fears, and commotions, and wars, sweet repose. PEACE. 47 Peace, peace, wake my muse, tell the charm which attendeth The mellow-toned words I have whispered ; arise ! , Inspire, while I jubilant sing how it sendeth The Angel of Love to all sorrowing eyes. A DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD : OR, THE FOUR VOICES. »o>©^o° One mild March evening, sitting (Watching shadows flitting) In the Sexton's pleasant little room, I heard a Robin singing, And the church bells ringing, And the wind in gusts, anon subside and come, And hoarsely then roll out a deeper boom ; And seated quietly I listened, Looking where a red fire glistened, In the Sexton's pleasant little room. There the blaze is winking, Here I'm seated, thinking, Or, more truly, destitute of thought. 48 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. Then these mingled noises, Where the spirit poises (Midway) sudden inspiration brought : As the sunbeams quiver, On a hidden river, Where the willows shiver, Unexpected on its bosom caught, Have a treasure to the wanderer brought ; So to the window turning, The inspiration burning, These meditations rapidly were wrought. What, Robin, art thou singing ? What, church bells, are ye ringing ? Ye winds, what voices bringing ? Come tell me here in this mysterious place. What harmony, with head-stones, What unison with dead bones, Cau there between your living voices be, And these mementos hoary, Which tell the same sad story, Of all beneath the hillocks which I see? In neither of the voices could I trace An answer, which the Harpy, Doubt, could chase. The Robin sang, " 'Tis only Because I love the lonely, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 49 And where the church's leugth'ning shade is cast, Like present time, reflective of the past, I sit and warble merrily, All summer singing cheerily — The highest headstone is my perch to sing, Or on those trees, in wealth of leaves which swing, And in the church roof shelter in the storm, When wintry blasts their leafy grace deform." And this was all the Robin had to say, And this was all the utterance of his lay, And disappointed, hence I turned away. As I turned aside, the ringing Chimes, now faint, now louder flinging Their modulous vibrations round and round, As merry as the Robin, More merry than the sobbing Wind, which came in gushes, Or in hoarser rushes, Perhaps I thought some harmony have found, Between these crowded head-stones, And hecatombs of dead bones, Which underneath these hillocks thick abound, And I abjured their cachinnatious sound, To laugh me out the wisdom they had found. " We are most easy singers, And play as sundry ringers, E 50 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. Command — a merrv, or a sadder tune Eepose anon, and then With clash and clang again In eddying circles round, propel the echoes soon. We sing with the rejoicing, and with the sorrowing croon Swing in our tower, In day's warm hour, Or serenade with song the midnight moon. Full many different hands Have pulled our hempen bands, And gone and left us to some other's care. And others cmite as strong Have pulled them, — some as long, Some longer, some not near so long, then there Is heard a stranger's footstep on our stair, Then we among our conclave whisper ' Where, — Where is our old familiar friend, oh ! where ?' And when we shout, all we can say is ' Where/ And through the gratings of the belfry stair Each swing sends trooping many a ' Where ? where ? where ?' A mattock, spade, and hoe, Are shortly heard below, Digging and delving, or 'tis often so, And then some morning after, As we are wild with laughter, Or as it may be wailing some one's woe ; Between the pause of ringing, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD, 51 As we are swinging, swinging, A glance unconscious flinging, Among the green heaps which appear below, We see a brown one added to the row ; And if we're ringing merrily, ' oh ! oh !' How rather would we it were ' woe ! woe ! woe !' We cannot understand it, how that here We swing immutably from year to year, And all things else so early disappear, Nothing there seems eternally to wear, But we, the belfry, and the belfry stair, The heavens, and twinkling midnight lustres there, The evening, and the morning, and the air." The peal then slowly ceasing, Without my soul releasing From that dark doubt, which cloudy gloomed o'erhead, I looked upon the head-stones, I thought upon the dead-bones, I thought upon the hosts, — the hosts of dead, Beneath the crowded hillocks numberlessly spread, And the complex enigma uninterpreted. Then after a pause came trooping, The wind like a sea-mew whooping, I raised my head which was drooping, And thus to it in mournful accents said : E 2 52 DBEAM IN A GRAVEYARD. " If thou dost understand, Thou, who o'er sea and land, Dost march in thy immeasurable sweep, The mystery of mortality, That wonderful reality — Tell me, I charge thee, do we die or sleep ? Why dost thou thine eternal circuit keep, While man so soon becomes of earth a rotting heap ?" So round the crowded head-stones, Which o'er the buried dead-bones, Their unintelligible sentry hold Eolus thus was playing, The utterances saying, Which I in these, the following words have told They have but little more my heart consoled. " Though o'er the land and ocean, I ever am in motion, And raise the dire commotion, Or breathe the mellow melody of peace ; I nothing have to tell thee, Of understanding wealthy, I can but little what thou'st heard increase ; Where I begin I there must also cease. DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 53 'Though where the Sun's a stranger For months I am a ranger, * And where the Moon, instead, shines on the snow, And rocking icebergs in commanding row, Which foil the British mariner's proud prow ; Though I have climbed their summit, Where ne'er a seaman's plummet Has been, nor where a Walrus e'er could blow ; I nothing saw to tell thee, Of understanding wealthy, Or inspiration stealthy, For there the heavens above, and earth below, In seeming, and in substance, are but snow : The moon and stars but very faintly glow, And hardly does the sun his presence show. 'Nor more have I to tell thee, Of understanding wealthy, Or inspiration stealthy, Though round the swarming isles, Where summer ever smiles, In India's Ocean I careering go, Sleep on the south, or round the northern blow, Or rest where those three mighty rivers flow, In the capacious gulph of Mexico. Isles of the Carib sea, Though nature lavishly 54 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. Here pours her most delicious treasures forth, To man, and beast, and bird, Exhaustlessly conferred ; All living things which may abound in mirth Short while, then die, and go again to earth, Man, flowers, and beasts, seem all of equal worth, Each but a genus of the one great birth. Though the dry deserts dreary, I traverse, never weary, Where man ne'er came, nor antelope e'er roamed, Where clouds have never wandered, Nor rivers e'er meandered, Nor streams have ever in rough channel foamed, Where's nought but sand and skies, And heat in clouds doth rise ; Though these the scene comprise, And none but I the ribbed sand have combed, I've found not here to tell thee, Of understanding wealthy, Or inspiration stealthy, Where'er the desert's trackless waste I've roamed. Though o'er the peopled cities I sing my different ditties, Which genial interchange of seasons cause, Be they where the Indus flows, Be they where the Niger rose, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 55 Or where the troublous Tiber solemnly doth pause ; Or where St. Lawrence's vast fall o'eraws ; All pay large tribute to death's greedy maws ; Nor cease to crowd the grave's wide open jaws ; But from the battening tomb, It seems again they come, From earth's prolific womb, It seems again they crowd the stage of life ; As the fresh feathery bloom Of the spring doth sweetly come, Then wither, to spring up again ; thus rife "With birth and dissolution, seems to be all life, Earth, waging with her children ineffectual strife, Nor inspiration here, Nor wealthy thought I fear Is this to you, oh spirit-troubled man ; But it is all the wisdom which I can, Or understanding wealthy Or inspiration stealthy, Or store of knowledge tell thee, Which I have found while round the world I ran. I tell thee we'vt thou to ascend still higher, And from those orbs celestial require Solution ; nor the sun, Nor moon, nor any one Of all the constellations in the sky, Which round their own rotating centres fly, 56 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD; No inspiration stealthy, Or understanding wealthy, Could any of them tell thee Not the remotest cluster could reply, For haply they may also, shortwhile, die, Though they have lit full long the midnight sky, While lapse of ages has gone rolling by : I think sometimes as round the earth I fly, The seeds of dissolution in me lie, And I may also perish by and by. All these, the Persian sages, Have questioned through the ages, Cross-questioned in the spirit's agony, But dumbly they have shone, And round their circuit gone For ever, on, on, on"; And they have worshipped them as Deity, Called them ' Eternal,' in an ecstacy, Yearning to live when they no longer be, Longing for place to which their souls may flee, When from the bondage of the body free ; But oh ! believed so unbelievingly, For terribly they see their brethren die, And in the Cypress groves they lay them by, And there like dead leaves in a ditch they lie, And then they look enquiring to the sky, But oh ! it gives them nothing in reply, But only this, "You, also, you, must die, And like a dead leaf in a ditch must lie." DREAM IN A GKAVF.YAVvD. 57 'Tis not in Zoraster, 'Tis uot in Hindoo Shaster, 'Tis not in Greece's famed Mythology, And I have shewn 'tis not on land or sea, Nor in the firmament's infinity ; I tell thee, nothing in this universe which lives, An answer to thy puzzling question gives." The gusts continued trooping, And like a sea-mew whooping Above the graves, and round the church they sped, And nothing more could tell me, Of understanding wealthy, Or inspiration stealthy, Respecting these which worm and Robin fed, The underlying Golgotha of dead : And I walked forth to cool my throbbing head, Reflecting 'twould be cool enough when dead. I walked among the head-stones, With all the buried dead-bones Seeming disgorged, and on the surface spread ; And on the sad reality, I pondered my mortality, Till I almost conceived that I was dead, And this warm garmenting of flesh was shed, And I was also intermingled, Dead bones among these ghastly bones of dead. 58 DUE AM IN A GHAVEYARD. And thus as I am pondering, And through that dark reach wandering, Distempered so and feverish I feel, Spell-broken sudden as the church bells peal, When, leisurely, I hear a footstep steal Along the church-walk's lime-tree avenue, Jingling a bunch of keys, And tli rough the linden trees ; Unconsciously, his steps I follow too, The wind doth also after me pursue. Approached the portals stately, The folding doors sedately, Revolve, and on their creaking hinges groan ; The wind which had been holding: Its breath the while the folding Doors could revolve, now rushed the aisles adown ; Then ran up the gallery stairs, As often a playful child dares, On which a cane-armed pedagogue might frown, And loitered down the nave, demurely sitting down Beneath the pulpit stairs, as a clerk would in his gown Then came the people flocking, Small feet in lily stocking, Heeled boots the echoes mocking, Which eluded from beneath the vaulted floor, Where are of more patrician bones a store, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 59 Linened and velveted, and leaded o'er, But quite as rotten now, as those outside the door, Wherever I may turn, there's more, more, more, But the people who flock down the aisles, As their faces are all wreathed in smiles, Appear but little moved about the dead ; So I will leave them quiet in their bed, And meditate on living- men instead, 'Long with this concourse here united led. As I glance at the people sitting, With staid looks the holy place fitting, I almost think those bells, that Robin lies, The wind was false in all his hollow sighs ; There is some language in the earth or skies, That gives the lustre to these human eyes, For there is not one here but shortly dies, And like a dead leaf in a hollow lies. Thus lapsing into reverie, The erratic spirit cleverly Set up a skeleton before my sight, And close beside it of an equal height, A living being which it did not blight, Nor fill with any horror or affright, But unappalled confronted it as might Man with his brother in the broad daylight ! And these were multiplied, 60 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. And they stood side by side, Alternate man and skeleton there seemed, And all the living men complacent beamed, And from their eyes sweet satisfaction gleamed, This, had I been asleep I might have dreamed ; But as I knew I was awake, I deemed It real, and saw how all these faces beamed, Conscious with what the vaulted charnels teemed. " Let us praise God," I heard, And Oh ! what a magic word ; The people all with one consent arose, And my old friend, the wind, From the pulpit stairs behind, Obeys the mandate, up the gallery goes, And from the harmonious organ grandly throws A flood of golden melody, which flows In undulating surges ; Ah, he knows At last, I thought, to whom, for what he blows. I listened, and the burden which arose, From the beginning to the final close Was, " Praise to God who gives The breath to all that lives, Who steadies in the ether this our world, Who sends the life and glow, To all that live below, Who speaks, and they are to destruction hurled." DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 61 So the sound swelled like flocks of birds in flight : Melting along the building's vaulted height. Then reverently the throng- On bent knee all prolong Their worship, and from praise they sink to prayer ; And Oh ! the words as they rise on the air, The very hearts upon their whispers bear, Of all who bend in supplication there. " Oh Father, we are weak, Vengeance thou rnightest wreak On us who have offended, each and all, And we might in annihilation fall ; But Thou dost ne'er recall, — Thou who' rt the All in All, — What has gone forth, nor unmake what is made Therefore, what is must be as Thou hast said ; And we shall rise again, no more to fade, When Death, our grizzly foe, is prostrate laid : But Oh ! as we have sinned, As we in heart and mind, Have all rebelled, again, and yet again, How shall we meet Thee when thy judgments rain In overwhelming power, At that appointed hour Of retribution in futurity ? How then Thou just and righteous judge shall we 62 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. The scorching flame of Thy fierce anger flee ? When there was none to aid, Then was Thy love displayed, For when Thy wrath was fall of bitter brine, Thou laid'st it all upon that Son of Thine, Sent'st Him to suffer in this form of mine, A man He was, and yet as Thou, Divine, The life He took, himself He did resign. And Thou wast satisfied, Thou hast in us replied, By giving peace where was a heavy woe, A heart which yearns Thy every will to know, And life which does in swift obedience flow. And we believe in Thee, That Thou wilt certainly, Though these our bodies to corruption go, liaise them to worship thee, Throughout Eternity, For Thou hast promised — and it shall be so. Therefore, accept of us, And do not now refuse, Comfort through Him who has carried our woe, Incline all our hearts in thy service to go, And conquer for us that invincible foe, Who shall lay us like dead leaves the green earth below." While now from prayer they rise, Hope doth illume their eyes, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 63 Which from the Spirit flies, Spirit of God, who broods dove-like around, That as they feel within, Present release from sin, And a full conquest win ; So shall they be when the edict shall sound, Eaised from the dust and immortally crowned. Can it be false, I thought, As from each face I caught Glorified beams, such as saints wore of old ; And such as Moses shed, Bright from his hoary head, When to the people God's message he told ; Then 'twas with thunders' peal, Now 'tis in tones which steal Gentle, and soft, and in mercy, and love. Oh ! hear it, and know that it comes from above. One in the midst stood up, Eaised high above the group, Opening a book, he thus read in their ears, (Golden the edges are, Pure white the pages are, Eegal the cushion whereon it appears ; But little indeed is the blazon it wears, To that right royal Word, Which from its page I heard 64 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. Read. Sit and listen, oh ! listen rnv soul, And never again in wild turbulence dole, For this every doubt from thy bosom will roll.) " And now Christ has risen, He has left the cold prison Of Hades, and triumphed o'er death like a king. Like a kiug, pooh, pooh, begone, Image ou earth is none, Nor image in heaven to compare with that spring Almighty, which clove through the magical ring ; The angels in heaven have no image to bring, And ever and only Alleluiah sing. He has risen, and ascended, where, Up through the boundless air, Up in the body that rose from the dust, And we are commanded in surety to trust, That he will restore from the dust them that sleep ; He has risen, I heard it read, He has risen, and all the dead Likewise from death shall immortally leap : He who has promised, is faithful to keep. Read it, here it is written, With the truth of it smitten, The guards of his sepulchre fell in affright, They saw it, they saw it, the glorious sight. And the rulers and priests, At their passover feasts, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 65 Were dismayed, and were frantic to give it the lie : But it did, but it did, through Jerusalem fly, And spread through all Heathendom, distant and nigh : And none contradicted ; so, Like a vast ocean's flow, Went forth the news to the nations abroad, Commanding belief with the voice of a God. And now it is come to us, Who — who can here refuse, On its proud waters to cast their belief ? None, when the fact they consider in chief ; That this was the Lord of All, He who before the Fall, Sat on the throne of his power, and made By the breath of his mouth, of all creatures each grade Of life, from the herb's insignificant blade, To man upon whom His own likeness He laid. Yes it was God, and He How condescendingly, Stooped and united His Godhead with man ; Therefore, if He has arisen, He can Baise up from the dead if he wills all that sleep : And He who has promised is faithful to keep. Then I came with the people out, And the wind with a rush and rout, And a very triumphant shout, F 06 DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. Cried, " Now you have found it out, The harmony of head-stones, With hecatombs of dead-bones, The pleasantry of the living 'mid the dead, The enigma of the charnel-house is read." This he said as the portal he rushed through, Then I heard the huge valves slowly pushed to, Revolving harsh, and then I came away. The grave-stones as I passed them seemed to say, There is — there is, a Resurrection day. The Robin, which continued still his lay, On a high grave-stone, moss-grown, old, and gray, Sang the same note, but something more did say ; To which I did reply, As I passed him slowly by, " I thank Thee Robin for thy timesome lay, For now I feel like thee, as merry and as gay. And as I went along, I sang in my soul the song, And I sang it in the Sexton's little room, Which pleasant though before, has pleasanter become. As I'm seated thiuking, Fugitive thoughts linking, Tnto slumber sinking, DREAM IN A GRAVEYARD. 67 Spirits seemed flitting round about the room — ■ Bright angel shapes — and stealthily they come And whisper, " Brother, do not dread the tomb, For though thy body there may soon consume, Thou wilt thyself in other regions bloom, More pleasant than this pleasant little room." And as they went and came, In multitudes, the same, — The same they whispered, o'er, and o'er, and o'er, Which I compared with what I'd heard before, And lulled I fall asleep while on their words I pore, And right into my dreams the influence they bore, And all the scenes I'd witnessed were repeated o'er. Again I thought I heard, The old familiar bird ; Again I listened to the wind's low moan, And thought I waited for the bells alone, And wondered much why paused their son'rous tone. And long my dream withheld it, Until the chimes compelled it, By twelve long lingering strokes from the church tower, Which broke my dream, and told the midnight hour. And I awoke with the sound, And looking bewildered round, F 2 68 A DIUGE. Upon the table, open wide, I found The Holy Bible, at which seated, And where reading — I repeated Those testimonies over in my sleep, Which only its inspired pages keep. FUNERAL DIRGE: COMPOSED ON THE MORNING OF THE BURIAL OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, IN ST. PAUL'S, NOVEMBER 18, 1852, Eepose my lyre whose chords were wont to thrill With joyful Pcean, cease your harmony Ye feathered hymners ; Zephyrus return, A.nd change your mournful music into moans. And oh ! ye skies, now look less lustrously, For is not this the day, when to his grave The warrior's borne, the steadfast, stalwart Duke ; Through whose high prowess even now we tread Unchained and free from autocratic sway, Our fatherland, and our inheritance. And shall we not to his blest memory pay Due deference, and holy hallowed tears. See, see, yon cloud, it comes as if it heard The sacred summons. While the solemn train Perhaps e'en now proceeds with slow, sad, march A DIRGE. 69 Along the city, to the pile where sleeps Sealed till the resurrection morn, the dust Of high compeers, of predecessors great. And see, the sun refuses not to clothe. His brightness in the deferential cloud, And muffled mourns, or seems at least to mourn. And list, now strangely altered, Zephyrus Sio-hs through the trees as on cold winter's nights, A dirge symphonious, and the very heavens Drop tears of pungent grief, and claim from me To mingle mine in hallowed overflow. And though not tears from these my bodily eyes May now exude, yet holier tears I weep From fountain which though it may seldom reach, The surface is the purest and the best, And, hidden though, its voice is not unheard By them who listen with an ear attuned, And some few drops which haply bubble up A moment, then descend among the soils, Are fairer than barbaric pearl, and plead More powerfully than shoals of noisy waters. Therefore to thee, regretted Wellington, To thee ; not here to thy corrupting clay, But to thy spirit which our holy faith Teaches us has not suffered, or decay, Or death, or diminution of its powers, As in the mortal residue of thee, But lives released from curb and barrier, 70 A DIRGE. And may we also hope, redeemed and blessed Yes, we will hope, and hence to thee in bliss, Oh Wellington, we even dare to look, And raise the testimony of our grief, This hidden testimony of the heart. To us the loss — therefore it well befits That we should mourn the absence of thine arm, Thou tower of strength : but yet who gave to thee Thy prowess shall, when like occasion needs, Raise up deliverer worthy of thy place, Or with some other instrument achieve As good deliverance ; for are not the winds, And all the elements of nature His, To do His bidding : and as Deborah sang, May not the hailstones and the stars perform, And thunders execute on all our foes, Discomfiture and extirpation ? Yes, Retain, oh England, thine integrity, And bow not down to lucre or to lust, Nor let thy golden mountains in the south, Tempt thee to wander from thy worship pure ; And even though but few will wield the sword, Or grasp the rifle, let a hundred fleets Darken th' horison, West, and North, and South, And East, with masts innumerable, bent In fell determination on our coast, A DIRGE. 71 He shall raise such commotion round this isle ; Boreas and Auster, each shall issue forth With their innumerous spirits, and though morn Beheld the horizon one dark belt of fleets, Eve shall behold them swallowed up and sunk, And all the nations learn that God protects Them whom He will, and who on Him rely. DIRGE: ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HENRY MANNERS, DUKE OF RUTLAND, "WHO DIED IN JANUARY, 1857. My Muse, thy harp of wailing, which was strung Erewhile to celebrate in mournful lapse, The obsequies of England's warrior Chief, Kesume, and from its trembling chords pour forth The mighty burden of a people's grief, Eor one great benefactor of his race, Lost from their midst, and gained in Paradise— Rutland : magnanimous, mighty to bless. 72 A DTRGE. Where'er he went, the poor man smiled and spoke A kindly benison upon his head, His touch made abject indigence assume The upright attitude and manly tread ; And gave him independence, and the thirst For large improvement— gave his bosom love. The wan, pale aspect of disease, where'er He came, put on health's rosy, ruddy glow, And walked elastic in recovered prime. Or where the nickering, vital flame refused To preen its lustre, he with plenteous care Smoothed the sad pathway, calmed the dying pangs. He saw the nation's hope of infant years, Run wild, like forest's undergrowth of briars And saplings unregarded, crooked and bent, Twisted in huge distortions hideous, He pitied. — Then, in crowded city street, And mid the calm of rural quiet, rose The lowly school-house, where the children nocked, Freely imbibing, as from mother's breast, The mental aliment, by which the growth Of mind in fair proportion, spreads and towers. Nor to respond to poverty's sad cry, Nor to assuage affliction's pleading wail, A DIRGE. 73 Nor to redeem from ignorance and vice The infant hope, had he the ready hand To aid, and heart to sympathise alone : No, to reward with generous bounty, he Was first : to pour in struggling merit's lap The largess, and with cheering words inspire The spirit fainting in its arduous task. But now, alas ! that generous heart has ceased To throb with kind emotions, and to plan New schemes of good. Awake, my harp ! awake ! Crowd on thy strings the burden of the sighs Accumulated, from the innumerous breasts Which swell with grief and pour forth sorrow's tears. The Bard in ancient threnody proclaimed The pleasing fiction, that through hill, and vale, Blue sky and forest shade, and brawling stream, And dripping fount, and murmuring ocean wide, And pleasant gardens, with their myriad flowers, (Odorous ever) and cool grots and bowers, And mantling shades, thick verdant shrubberies, Where birds perpetual warble ; these, he sang, Paused in their various melody, and poured The tide of joy which rolled through all their tribes Back to its secret source, and all combined To swell the volume of his personal grief. Though false, it was consoling, and as grief 1 A DIEGE. Is lessened and divided, when 'tis poured Into the ear of sympathising friend, So the great heart of nature seemed to hear His sorrow, and shed answering tear for tear. But now it may not be ; the groves resound As jocund with their merry minstrel tribes ; The silvery streams brawl joyously, and dance As gladsome on their polished pebbly beds ; The winds play through the tall tree tops, soft airs Whisper along the winding walks beneath ; The sun renews his daily race, and sinks In none less rosy pageantry of clouds ; And all the undiminished stars shine down In changeless splendour, as when primal man First gazed and wondered at their glorious pomp. But yet though nature doth betray no pause In her glad bursts of laughter loud, and song, And seems to mock the mourners who invoke Her concord with their grief, and though denied The solace which accrues by the belief That this our deep and agonizing woe Diffuses through the elements, and bears The subtle influence through every pore Of conscious matter, yet they who have lost Their kind and generous benefactor, may Unite their crushing sorrows, and bewail In mournful measure their departed friend. Nor these alone, but all who love the good A DIRGE. And great in heart, the true benevolent Whether his rank be lofty or be low, Lift up their voice in sorrow eloquent, That here his gentleness has ceased to shine. Behold the man of public virtue lie3 Inert and cold ; he who for self ne'er lived, But strove to mitigate the thousand ills Which men inherit, with the power of wealth And weight of influence, and rank, all pressed To serve the multitude ; He might have been The master, and have lift the iron heel, And crushed the meek, and ground the suffering poor But he with power to despotise, became The servant, and he gained their gratitude ; And now unanimous they weep his loss. 'Tis well to weep, tears melt the heart and save From ossifying as the flinty rock ; And in the softened soil which tears have made, Contrition casts the fruitful seed of good, Which bears fair fruits of holiness that live Beyond this seen and temporal, in the realm Of perfect purity and sinless joy. But grieve not unconsoled, for though a good And noble man has vanished from the earth, 76 A DTRGE. Good has not perished from the earth, 'twill spring Revived in Phoenix-vigour from his ashes. The form of salutation to the kings Of Babylon and Persia was, time past, " King ! live for ever," and it was no vain And sycophantic form, for though he died To whom it was addressed, as all must die, The king still lived, though in another man, Son, or successor, so the Duke still lives. His noble son shall emulate his sire. He on the pedestal his father reared Shall stand, and from his vantage height acquire Surpassing honours : though his father's name Be reverenced for his urbane gentleness And all unmatched self-sacrificing love J: Eutland" shall still be but the other name For every praiseful excellence in man. 77 SIR GERVASE DE EINDERN ; OR, THE FORGET-ME-NOT : A LEGEND OF THE CRUSADES. A weary journey T had come To search for chiselled stone, Or marble effigy, or brass, Or monument moss-grown, Of one who had followed the " Lion Heart," In the days of chivalry, To battle with Saladin the dread, For a Red Cross Knight was he. In the church-yard rippling hillocks rose, Beneath the fir-tree's shade, At whose heads was many a common stone, With the name and age displayed, Of the unambitious denizens Of that secluded vale, With a rhyming couplet to rehearse Each uneventful tale. 78 SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. Within the church was many a slab, And many a 'scutcheoned stone, But not a single tablet there With Eindern's name thereon. I beheld how many forgotten names On the polished marble traced, Engraven deep in the deathless stone, And with sculptured statue graced. Then I turned away from the ivy'd porch, And the yew tree by the gate, And I strolled across a park which spread Encircling a mansion great ; At the coach road gate an old man stood, In homeliest fustian clad ; Said I to the village patriarch, " To meet you I am right glad." " My father," I said, " I have journeyed here In quest of a graven stone, Or a sculptured monument, in praise Of Findern, worthily known As a knight right valorous, who went With King Richard to the war, With a hundred horsemen by his side, And fiftv. keen archers are. 4/ * SIR GERVASE DE FINDERX. 79 " And there so valiantly he fought. With his hundred mailed men, They charged like tempestuous thunder cloud, On the quivering Saracen. Thus history tells, and that here was his home, And that here some tablets should be, To tell of his valour and enterprise ; But I've sought for them fruitlessly. " Father," I said " have you memory Of no brass or no buried stone," Quoth he " 'Twas of Findern you enquired, I have heard of the name, I own," Then a sudden recollection lit His face with intelligence, And he beckoned me to follow him, And turned through a clap-gate thence. It was a shady beechen walk, And a brook ran by its side, And mossy stones lay in its bed, Round which the riplets glide, And on its banks the Rag-Robin grew, Ground-ivy, and two leaved Squill, And the noon-tide sun through the foliage gave Green light, and the air was still. 80 SIR GERVASE DE F1NDERN. We came to a holly bush opaque, Trained as an harbour neat, With the prickly branches clasped above, And beneath a rural seat, And there by the margin of the brook, A bed of flowers grew, And they each had a delicate golden eye, And their petals were skyey blue. And the old man pointed to the clump, As he sank on the rustic seat, Quoth he " Those are called the Findern flowers, And a sad tale they repeat, Where through that cleft in the beechen grove, Thou beholdest yon mansion stand, With its parapets and balusters, And colonnades so grand, There formerly, an old hall stood, With gables quaint and high, And jutting window frames which peaked From the roof up to the sky, There formerly the Finderns lived, From the time that the conquerer came, Till the hermit preached up the Holy War, And Sir Gervase caught the flame. SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. 81 " Then he called his villein socmen round, And he armed them cap-a-pie, With plume, and helmet, and cuirass, And a shield to each gave he, And with falchion broad, and with barbed spear, And with battle-axe supplied, Sir Gervase rode with his hundred men, And to Palestine they hied. " 'But Sir Gervase had a bride just wed, And she grieved that he would go, And the eve of his departure both Walked where this brook doth flow, And they sat on this, or some other seat, And they both wept mutual tears, And the Lady Violet said ' Gervase You'll be away long years. " And some captive maiden of the Turk Will attract your roving eyes, And you will forget your Violet,' This she said with perplexing sighs, And Sir Gervase looked in her swimming eyes, And he kissed her fragrant cheek, And he said, ' That I will remember you These flowers at our feet shall speak.' G S3 SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. " And he leap't from his seat and cropped a bud, And he gave it to her hand, And he said ' My beautiful, my own, Take this flower and understand, When it forgets in the spring to bud, In the summer to display, I can forget my Violet, But not till then, I say.' " The sun gleamed on the burnished helms Of the horsemen on the morn, As the hundred mailed warriors In the court-yard were up-drawn, And Sir Gervase on his Arab steed, With his war horse by his side, Led forth the glittering cavalcade, With a triumph tramp of pride. " Six months slow passed, and the lady lay, Stricken on a couch of pain, And she breathed out her soul in the vernal month, With a child that was born in vain, But she told them to scatter o'er her shroud, And to plant upon her grave, The flower which Sir Gervase singled out, When the pledge of his truth he gave. SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. 83 " And Sir Gervase cauie from the war once more, When the Saracen was subdued, And he saw the grave of his Violet, With the mantling flowers strew'd, He remembered then the pledge he gave, O'er the blossom by the brook, And the midnight stars were witnesses, Of the oath which now he took. " He swore by the love he bore his bride, By the hope which he had to rise, Through the mercy of the bleeding Lamb, To the kingdom of the skies, By the hope he had of meeting her, Willi the blest around His throne, That he would not know another bride, That he'd live in the world alone. " And Sir Gervase caused a monument, With an effigy laid prone, To be reared in that sacred edifice, Through whose echoing aisles you've gone, And a vacant interval was left, And a solemn charge he gave, To sculpture an effigy for him, When they laid him in his grave. 84 SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. " And so in a faithful widowhood He lived, and he died unheired, And his divided inheritance, A king and a convent shared." " But my father," I said, " And his effigy By his lady's, loved so long, Was it placed by his grateful sovereign. His memory to prolong?" " His effigy in the finest stone, In the Parian marble pure, Was laid along by his lady's side, And with iron rail made sure." " Then where are they now, and why no trace ; Has the inevitable hand Of destroying Time effaced them, Which has let the building stand ?" The old man answered with a sigh, " For a century or two, They lay in their palisadoed aisle, For the villagers to view, And there, when the Sabbath prayers were read, And God's praises had been sung, Full many would linger round that place, Of the aged and the young. SIR GERVASE DE FINDERN. 85 " And the fathers told the mournful tale, Which they'd heard from theirs before, And the youthful drank it eagerly, As they gloated the statues o'er, And the drowsy sermon they had heard, They treasured up something less, Than the story of the Baron bold, And his wond'rous faithfulness. " But alas, that such preachers, though of stone, Should awake religious ire, In the troubles of King Charley's days (As was told me by my sire) The Puritans in fanatic zeal, Uprooted it entire, And smote it into chaotic lumps, And trampled it in the mire. " And therefore it is, that where'er you search, In that venerable pile, There is to be found no trace of it, In the chancel, nave, or aisle, But, behold, my son, in that fading flower, A monument, whereon Is written the story of Findern's truth, When the chisled stone is gone." 86 SALLY KNIGHT & HER DOLEFUL DEATH : AN O'ER TRUE TALE. Poor Sally Knight was very old, Full seventy years and more, And she was very deaf and crazed, As craziest barn door, And she mowed and gibbered hideously, And goggled aft and fore. Poor Sally Knight in Kegworth dwelt, In Dragwell-lane full low, But she was very sad and lone, No careful daughter or kind son Had she to tend her, so That she might feel her miseries less, Might almost feel them go. SALLY KNIGHT. A parish stipend poor and small, "Was paid to Bessy Vear, "Who also had a widow been, Eor many a weary year, And who gave Sally board and bed, For both 'twas sorry cheer. Now when the days were warm and long, And when the leaves were green, Poor Sally Knight about the lanes And fields was often seen, Hobbling, and gibbering all the while, As she had talking been. As usual, one sunny morn, When Bessy Vear and Sally, Had eat and drank their breakfast poor, She hobbled down the alley, While Bessy washed and put away The cups which did not tally. She passed the well, she passed the school, She passed the blacksmith's shed, And out into the open fields, With staff in hand she sped, Until she reached the four cross ways, Which different journeys led. * 87 88 SALLY KNIGHT. And here she always took the left. Which at an angle entered The Derby-road ; then home again, Nor ever had she ventured To deviate, or Bessy Year, Her truant steps had censured. Now on this morn the sun had risen, In burning heat full high, And Sally Knight bethought herself The right hand she would try, Because a row of shady elms Expanded to the sky. Out of the middle road she turned, Upon the bordering grass, Nor had she wandered many steps, Before she felt to pass, Mysterious languor through her frame, So kindly cool it was. Instinctive yielding to the spell, Down fell her crazy bones, All huddled up into a heap, Beside a heap of stones, She leaned against a breaker's trough, And snored in smothered moans. SALLY KNIGHT. 89 And long she slept, her chin dropped down Between her high peaked knees, Which closed upon it like a vice, Her arms compressing these, Her long and skinny fingers twined Like snakes' intricacies. And while she sleeps, an ass comes near, Browsing beside the hedges, On brambles, trefoilated leaves, Among the tangled sedges, But when he sees the snoring heap, His teeth he closely wedges. And now he rears his fan-like ears, His nostrils wide dilate, His closely clenched teeth exposed, He only seems to wait A copious gathering of breath, To snort a fearsome blate. But suddenly his ears drop down, Nostrils relax again, And lowering his ears he creeps, Browsing along the lane, But when he doth approach the heap Of stones, they him detain. 90 SALLY KNIGHT. Rather than pass that other heap Of bones, he takes a turn, And seeks the other side the lane, Which the hot sun doth burn, Out of the shade he doth emerge, Sharp by the heaped cairn. Far down the other side, the ass Had wandered, and again Had crept beneath the shady trees, Which stood along the lane, And Sally still slept heavily, Moaning as if in pain. Next came a blooming little maid, Like butterfly awing, Lighting along from flower to flower, With an elastic spring, And singing ever as she went, How sweet the child did sin°r. *&■ She shuddered as she saw the dame, The haggard beldame sit, And heard her snore so hideously, She thought her in a fit, But she dared not go to waken her, She feared to think of it. SALLY KXIGHT. 91 And so with hasty fear she fled, Her hat flew from her head, And only by the strings detained, It dangled as she sped, Her tresses from their nooses broke, And freely fluttered. The grass recovered from her tread, Its pressure was so small, The motion of her body made A sudden breeze to fall, That stirred the bramble leaves which there Composed a matted wall. Fleetlv she ran, until the lane Bent round, which when she cleared, She gave a hurried glance behind, As if the thing she feared, Might have pursued her noiselessly, And at her back have leered. But reassured to see the bend An interception make, She gave a suspiration long, And one convulsive quake, Then shook her ringlets from her eyes, And drew her bonnet back. 92 SALLY KNIGHT. But all her sprightliness was gone, Her head hung languidly, She walked without that buoyant spring, "Without that songful glee, So droops the hunted fawn who has Fled to a sheltering tree. The hag slept on as if with spell By maliced witches bound, The sun had vaulted up the sky, And the meridian crowned, And far on his declining way, Hasted the heavens around. Next, round the bend a brindled cow, With swollen udders came, And it gave a bellow long and loud, Its eyes shot feverish flame, The bellow like a thunder clap, Awoke the sleeping dame. A boy was driving on the cow, Who flourished in his hand, A switch cut from the pollard trees, Which by the brooklets stand, A potent instrument to him, Of mischievous command. SALLY KNIGHT. 93 Joy sparkled in the urchin's eye, As he beheld the crone, Who scrambled up and took the way, Which led back to the town, For she had often felt the power, To torment he had shown. But though his fingers itched to lay The supple wand across The stooping shoulders of the dame, To make her writhe and toss, He brew'd a different stratagem, Malignant plot it was. He said in simulated tone Of kindness, "Mother mine Now turn again, that's not the way Unto the home of thine ; You're going wrong, I'm sure you are." She dreamt not his design. The dame turned unsuspecting round, The boy went chuckling on, In huge delight and conscious pride, Eor the great feat he'd done ; Such joy the arch deceiver feels, When he a soul has won. 94 SALLY KNIGHT She passed the " Anchor" public-house, And coal-wharf by the river, Where in the stream reposed a barge, And where the rushes quiver, Simultaneous with the willow trees, Which on the margin shiver. With aching limbs she climbed the bridge, Whose five stone arches span The river Soar, which underneath In noiseless ripples ran ; And in the placid bays she saw The stars reflected wan. And many a weary mile she went, And many a long rood strayed, The full moon in the heavens rode high, The stars their pomp displayed ; But Sally on the dew-wet grass Her limbs longed to have laid. But buoyed with hope she struggled on, For hunger pinched her sore, And she thought as each high hill she clomb, There surely is no more, And panted anxiously to see The beacon spire peep o'er. SALLY KNIGHT. 95 joyful bene ! at last she see3 In the soft lunar light, A taper spire in the distance rise, it revived her quite, And thoughts of Bessy Vear and home, Make her dull eves shine bright. With quickened step she crossed the vale, Her old heart beat full fast, Her toils were almost o'er, she thought, Her wanderings were passed. " Bessy Vear will be so glad 1 have returned at last." O God of Mercy ! at the base Of Dragwell-lane, she misses The blacksmith's shed, where the ruddv fire Glows, and the hot iron hisses, And the flying sparks from the anvil shot, The lounger's gaze bedizzies. And where's the clear transparent well ? And where's the noisy school ? Perplexed she rubs her heavy eyes, But she see's instead, a pool, And cottages, all strange to her ; She sat on a stone to dule. 96 SALLY KNIGHT. 'Twas midnight, all the village slept, And every door was barred, The very beams of moonlight slept, As they streamed upon the sward, Poor Sally stept up to a door, And rapped with her knuckles hard. Ere long, full wide a casement flew, And a nightcapped head appeared, " Who's there ? what want you here so late?" Her upturned visage speered, And made such hideous grimaces, It started back affeared. The casement flew back with a clap, And harsh the hasp went down, Despairingly she went away, And through the sleeping town, The very houses as she passed, Upon her seemed to frown. And out again into the fields, Mechanical she went, But now no hope ennerved her feet, Her feebleness was spent, Her head, like a withered bulrush flower, In apathy was bent. SALLY KNIGHT. 97 Each time she raised her feet it seemed They were clamped with clamps of lead, And now they quite refused to move ; On a gate she leaned her head ; It was a field of golden grain, Before her amply spread. Instinct of hunger woke to see The food within her grasp, She lifted up the wooden latch, Unloosed the iron clasp, She clutched some ears of corn, which then Her skinny palms do rasp. Alas ! alas ! poor Bessy Vear, Doleful will be your sorrow, For you will breakfast all alone Upon the coming morrow, For Sally Knight doth sleep full sound, Low in the corn field furrow. She winnowed with her feeble breath, The wheat from hand to hand, And throwing it into her mouth, Munched it where she did stand, But a sudden darkness veiled her eyes, And she fell upon the land. H 98 SALLY KNIGHT. Long waited Bessy Vear that day, But Sally came not back, And all that following night she lay, As if upon a rack, She could not get a wink of sleep, Tossing from side to back. The reapers put the sickle in, The sheaves lie scattered round, They come to where poor Sally lay, They start off with a bound, " Oh ! God ha' mercy on her soul, Here's her they thought was drowned." Mute consternation chains their speech, As they stand round the corpse, The bubbles turn to icicles, Which from each forehead drops, And the warm blood freezes in their veins, And the heart-beat nearly stops. A moment thus and some one brings A fleak to bear the body, Which rigid lay along the field, And all with wet dew cloddy, As if it had been three days drowned, All in the water soddy. SALLY KNIGHT. And to the neighbouring village, then, With slow sad step they move, And Bessy Vear arrives at length, Poor Sally's corpse to prove, And it was sweetly sad to see One that the dead did love. The cow boy who so cruelly Had played his pranks that day On Sally, and with vile deceit, Had made her go astray, Came with her, for his soul since then, Had melted all awav. He stands and gazes on the corpse, God save him ! see his eyes, There is a wildness enters them Ask him, "What ails?" he cries, While he clutches you with nervous grasp, " Sally, I told you, lies." The boy, as if a demon still Pursued him for that lie, Wandered about, and all he met, To them those words did cry, With the maniac's gibber on his lips, And the wildness in his eye. H 2 99 ion FAIRY SONG IN SPRING. Three leaves which had lain all winter long, Quietly in the ditch, among The withered rag-wort stalks, Came out when the violets 'gan to blow, And the cuckoo-pint did peep below, And the cuckoo, mid wood walks, (That wandering sprite) appeared also, And the dove to its fond mate talks. They came out dancing in the road, Each after each impatient strode, In a reel they rapid ran. Round and round, scarce touching the ground, Now with a somersault, then with a bound, Shrieking, " Mate, catch as catch can :" And a wild March wind in the trees did sound Hoarse melody as they ran. FAIRY SONG. 101 On many an April day before I'd seen leaves caper, and thought no more, And so I sauntered by, But when to sleep my eyes were given, When thoughts go roaming earth and heaven, Again I saw them lie — The three leaves under the garden hedge, And I started ! and wondered why. Pooh, pooh, 1 said, these leaves have lain Under the snow, and under the rain, They fluttered on high last year ; But they are dead, and the rooks have said, With husky croak, and with palsied head, Their burial service near, And I turned over and slept again. But lo ! they re-appear. And now they are frolicking under the tree, "Where first I beheld them frolicking free, And I, wondering, stare aghast ; And it seems as they 're whirling rapid round, That the leaves with laughiug heads are crowned And arms grow from their sides, And after each other as they bound, With legs they make their strides. 102 FAIRY SONG. Softly I pass through the garden gate, And quietly down by the hedge I sat, And I look through to see " what then ;" Ah ! what? The fairies, — hark ! they sing, The foremost and fairest of the ring:, The whole uniting, when With the quickened dance and the hurried words, The chorus doth come again. CHORUS. I, O, Paean, lovely spring, Thou art come with dripping wing, Thou art come with laugh and shout, Whirl it, whirl the dance about. RECITITAVO. From the farthest hills is fled, The grey scalp which darksome hung, Like a canopy of lead, All the frowning winter long, Where the snow-flakes falling fast, Hid its dim seen-line from view ; Now the beams of light are cast, From the skies unclouded blue. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. FAIKY SONG. 103 Now their undulating sides, Faintly streaked with green appear, Where the fleeting shadow glides, Sunshine fast pursuing near, Shy as Daphne when she fled, From the eager god of day ; So impassioned light is led, And eluded still in play. I, O, Peean, lovely Spring, &c. There in sunshine's golden light, Flocks of sheep are scattered, All enrobed in fleeces white ; Docile lambs by some are led, Tumbling o'er a knoll in play, Prancing o'er the fields so wide, Or they in compliance stay, By their dams' caressing side. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. 'Long the vale a silvery line Winds in devious curve along, On its banks sleek herds recline, In its depths do fishes throng, Willows which o'erhang, display On their wands the downy mast, Alders all their boughs array, With red catkins generous waste. I, 0, Peean, lovely Spring, &c. IQ4 FAIRY SONG. Through the mazy woods, where lay Winter like oppressive cloud, Now has passed a quickening ray, Spring is rolling off the shroud, Where the tangled briars droop, Where the matted sedge doth lie, There is seen the leveret group, Thence the partridge brood doth fly, I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. And the hazel bush has hung All its plenteous tresses there, And the purple bud has sprung, Which the bearded nut will bear, The long-fingered ash tree shows Dusky coloured buds which pout, And the sheathed leaves disclose, Peeping delicately out. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. And the circling hedge of thorn, All with rising pimples decked, Holds in hidden nest, late born Callow brood, or eggs, brown specked, Where on spray is singing soft, Sparrow with unvarying note, Or the Red-breast, loudly scoffed By the wren with straining throat. I, 0, Psean, lovely Spring, &c. FAIRY SONG. In the central wood, retired, Sings the Ouzel-cock at morn, And when evening skies are fired, On a bramble's pointed thorn : Pure and clear and silvery, Is its meditative song, Sable though its feathers be, Chief it is the birds among. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &e. There the Throstle, strong and loud, Wakes the echoes far and near, Hurriedly his wild notes crowd, Rapture doth unchain the ear- On a pine-tree top he sits, Or 'mid scanty boughs revealed, Or disturbed, away he flits, To lone bush, across the field. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. There the Linnet, timid bird, By th' uproarious thrush outsung, Seldom seen, is often heard, Like an undertone, among Its loud mates ; or echo sweet, Melting the deep glades along, From those warblers, who compete With a loudly em'lous song. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. 105 100 FAIRY SONG. There the Piedfinch uttereth Its ^invariable string, Always in a single breath, By the roadside it doth sing ; Man's approach it doth not fear, But the traveller passeth by, Or the fowler cometh near, Also unregardedly. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Now the blue Tit clicks and clacks, All among the apple trees, Or among the farm -yard stacks, Piping its monotonies, Or it gleams in purple show, As a plum so bloomy bright On the garden wall doth glow, Swelling in the southern light. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Now the Lark ascendeth high, From the clover-field, dew-sprent, Its impassioned ecstacy Pilleth all the firmament ; Hardly is the purple gate Of the day-dawn open thrown, When the Lark with joy elate, High into the heavens has flown. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. FAIltY SONG. Now where springs the tender blade, Hovereth the Plover near, In solicitude dismayed, For its young in ceaseless fear, Screeching its discordant cry, Veering in its laboured flight, From its nest it still doth fly, Luring unsuspicious wight. I, O, Pecan, lovely Spring, &c. Now where rivers gently glide, Showing pebbly bottoms clear, In the willows by their side, Singeth the sedge-warbler, While among the osier-beds Springs the pilewort's plenteous leaf, And the yellow blossom spreads, Of the meadow, floweret chief. I, O, Prean, lovely Spring, &c. Now, where beech and elm trees high, Bower some old ancestral hall, Busily the rooks do fly, And repeat their pleasing call, High among their cloud of nests, Building these, repairing those, Scavengers of farmer's pests, They devour his myriad foes. I, 0, Psean, lovely Spring, &c. 107 108 FAIRY SONG. Now from Afric's golden shore, Now from India's spicy grove, Araby's cool grottos pour Swallows, which toward Britain rove ; The intoxicating gale Of the aromatic East They delight to quaff, but hail Britain as their home, their rest. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Now the meadow, lane, and wood, With the chervil are arrayed, And the nettle doth bestud Every hedge-row's ample shade ; There by mosses nigh concealed, Breathes the violet its perfumes, And the primrose has revealed, Beaming, overpowering blooms. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. There the chickweed's trembling star, And the purple-throated gill, Growing unobtrusive are, With the flaunting daffodil, — Flower magnificent, all hail ! Whether by the rude hedge-side Thou dost dance, or watered vale, Spring confesses thee her pride. I, O, Pfean, lovely Spring, &c. FAIRY SONG. 109 On the crumbling Abbey wall, Painted grey and green with time, Blooms a yellow floweret small, Rooted in the covering lime, 'Tis the wall-flower : Nature thus Hides the withered form of blight, Covering with copious Drapery of flowers bright. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Where the fir plantations be, In deep glen, on mountain side, Blooms the white Anemone. Covering the wood bottom wide : And the blue-bells taper frond Clusters everywhere around, And in the wild heath beyond, Blossoms on the furze abound. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. On the mountain, in the mead, Favourite everywhere of all, Widely is the daisy spread, First flower in Spring's coronal. Childhood swarms with happy glee, All the meadows green among, Butterflies roam far and free, Bees begin the flowers to throng. I, 0, Pfean, lovely Spring, &c. 110 FAIRY SONG. O'er rivulet, or slow canal, Gnats swarm in the sunny ray, And from fissures in old wall, Lizards creep into the day ; Beetles with the gauzy wing, And hard sheath of gleaming horn, Gaily now are fluttering, Everywhere young Spring is born. I, O, Psean, lovely Spring, &c. Where encircling high walls keep North winds from the garden flowers, There unnumbered blossoms peep, Fragrances suffuse the bowers ; All beside the gravel walks, Kolled and smoothed with care extreme, Stand up stark the crocus stalks, Withered all the flowers seem. I, O, Pasan, lovely Spring, &c. And the snow-drop, which while cold Blew the wind and fell the sleet, Hung its crystal calix bold, Languishes beneath the heat, And its petals withering die, And they droop and separate, how soon their beauties fly, What short steps decay doth wait. FAIRY SONG. Ill Changed, our chorus dirge we sing, Spring for thy quick withering, Budding, falling, springing, dying, O how soon thy charms are flying, I, O, Paean, we'll resume, For the multitudes which bloom, I, O, Paean, we will say, For the thousand sweets which stay. Still the jaunty Aconite, Laugheth in its emerald frill, And in rows all dazzling bright, Sweeps the gorgeous daffodil, There the polyanthus spreads, Eye of yellow, rim of red, Primrose of the garden beds, But on food superior fed. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, Thou art come with dripping wing, Thou art come with laugh and shout, Whirl it, whirl the dance about. There the blue Hepatica, Beds with sapphire clouds bestuds, Not far off Mazeria, Overcrowds its stem with buds. 112 FAIRY SONG. There the scarlet Ribus flings Wide its pendulous array, Wondrous wealth of flowers it brings, To enwreath the brow of May. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Clinging to the garden wall, Is Japonica, more bright, Coral we its flowers may call, Dazzling the admiring sight. Climbing to the summit, there Is the apricot and peach, Blossom studded, cause of care, Lest the lingering frosts may reach. I, 0, Pagan, lovely Spring, &c. Gooseberry and currant tree, Beautiful their pale leaves spread, And the rosy blossoms see, Of the apple overhead ; Beautiful they are in Spring, But in Autumn there will hang, Luscious fruits all clustering, From these blossoms fair which sprang. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. FAIKY SONG. 113 Now where flues create warm air, And glass frames exclude the cold, Gorgeously, exotics rare Spread their beauties mauifold : All along the roof is spread, Passion-flower whose leaves subdue The intenser light which led By the glass, pours streaming through. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Fair Camelia is there, Spotless in unsullied white, Or Carnation streaks doth wear, Or suffused in crimson bright, Doth contend with all the throng. For the palm of beauty high, But whoever gazes long, Will confess her sov'reignty. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. Here Azalea multiplies Its deep blossoms Lilac hued, And Narcissus with fair eyes, Hangs its head in meeker mood, Blaze of beauty in the one, Odour exquisite in this, Neither will our song disown, But we choose the last, I wis. I, O, Paean, lovely Spring, &c. 114 FAIRY SONG. Here the Hyacinth rears its cone, Crown of aromatic flowers ; Here Silenus scorns to own, Namesake Primrose of the bowers ; Cineraria of hue Various with coloured dress, Purple, pink, and white, and blue, Seemeth floral changefulness. Slacken now the dance and song, Mates disperse on journey long, You go fetch the pattering shower, You beat back the north wind's power, While I will in form of sap, Juice bring up from Nature's lap, And unroll upon the breeze, Garniture of all the trees. I, 0, Paean, lovely Spring, Speed us in our journeying, End we now our dance and song, We begin our journey long. 115 HARVEST IDYL. Let those who love Apollo's shrine, Seek Delphi's gloomy hollow, Let those who love the God of wine, The vine-crowned Bacchus follow. It shall be mine, in beechen shade To pay my adoration To Ceres ; — " Goddess of the glade, Accept my poor oblation. " Come, gentle goddess, seat thee here, And while we scan the landscape, I'll sing an idyl for thine ear, A garland shall my hand shape, i 2 116 HARVEST IDYL. " Now 1 will wander down this field, And pluck the wilding flowers, A beauteous garland they shall yield, I'll weave them in these bowers. " And while I thy fair brows entwine, Goddess, with thee communing, Infuse thy wisdom into mine, My minstrelsy attuning. " Here first is the Convolvolus, The corn-stalks interlacing, Bound which it twines its tendrils close, In sweet love-knot embracing. " So clingeth to a husband dear, Fond wife by sickness smitten, When fate with venomed fang severe, The tender bud hath bitten. " As from the stalk I disentwine, This flower for Ceres' uses. Husband, death takes that flower of thine, For heaven thy clasp she looses. HARVEST IDYL. 11? " Flower, didst thou know thy blissful fate, Thy clasp were less tenacious, For thou art called to decorate The brows of Ceres gracious. " And haply if that maiden knew, Or if she knew more strongly, That Paradise required her too, She would not take it wrongly. " Here is the Poppy, ruby red, All flushed with crimson sanguine, Like passion it doth roll its head, In drunken wildness hangine:. " Next is the Marygold ; intense Its naming disc upflashes, So beauty's kindling eyes dispense Light from beneath long lashes. " And here the Pimpernel I bring, How its red petals sparkle, And set within that radiant ring, Its central eye doth darkle. 118 HARVEST IDYL. " The Scorpion-grass, Forget-me-not, As blue as skies in summer, Which oft love's messages hath brought, To still foul slander's rumour. " The Heart's-ease, flower of purple lip, And pistil white and creamy, Where honey bees are wont to sip, And fire-flies hover dreamy. " These 'mid the bind-weed's trumpet blooms Commingled in nice order, AVitli tansy, for its sweet perfumes, Snatched from the pathway border, "And with a wheat ear, full and large, And oat ear freely swinging, With wild hop leaf to deck the marge, To clasp thy brow I'm bringing. " And as the rainbow in the skies, Doth span the heavens serenely, So o'er thy mild benignant eyes, I place this garland queenly. HARVEST IDYL. 119 " Now goddess, on this bank repose, Chequered with thyme sweet-scented, Where the o'erhanging beech tree throws Its shade to make contented. " Behind us is a deep dark wood, With beech and pine tree crowded, A dove has all the morning coo'd Within its covert shrouded. " Only one other bird doth break The silent pause within it, 'Tis not the wren whose feathers shake With rapture, or the linnet. " It is the Ouzel-cock sedate, Its matin anthem singing, So liquid, soft, as rivulets blate, O'er polished pebbles springing. " Now Phoebus from behind the wood, Emerges bright and beaming, And scattereth its glooms, with flood Of radiance quick streaming. 120 HARVEST IDYL. " And dwarfs the lessening shade, which creeps, Retreating to the wood side, As to the Northern hills he leaps, Which still in misty hoods hide. " The zephyr, by his rising loosed, Goes tripping past us fleetly, And see the ears of wheat are tossed, And murmur music sweetly. " This, many another corn field joins, As far as eyes discover, And all into a vale declines, Covered with grass and clover. " And there are clustered cottages, Farm-yards with poultry crowing, A stately hall, half hid in trees, And orchards ripe fruit showing. " Now the thick mist envelopeth The village in the valley, Now it is curled up by the breath Which from the copse did sally. HARVEST IDYL. 121 " It settles on the upland now, And now it slowly passes, The hill is covered to its brow, With forests' sombre masses. " Beyond, in dim perspective seen, Hill after hill extendeth, Till hidden in a misty sheen, The last with ether blendeth. " Long we might gaze in tranceful mood, But nearer scene recalleth : From out an angle of the wood, A noisy brooklet brawleth. " Just where it dances into day, A rural cottage bowery Stands glistening in the sunny ray, With garden, fragrant, flowery. " Within the garden, set around With privet hedge, clipped neatly, Long scarlet-runner rows abound, And pea-bloom, smelling sweetly. 122 HARVEST IDYL. " There Clytia — the Sunflower named — Apollo still pursuing In faithful fondness ; though he flamed Enraged to her undoing. " The Hollyock, surpassing high, The Dahlia commanding : The bushy Peony, close by A graceful Fuschia standing. b'"" 1 " 1 " * ui ^" la oi-auuiug. " Around the cottage porch doth climb, And up the wall ascendeth, A Clematis in purple prime ; Jasmine with woodbine blendeth. " Now from the cottage issue forth Three brawny men with sickles, Each seems a giant in his girth, And never at toil stickles. " And singing blythe, they reach the fields, Where sways the corn full heady, And soon, their bare brown arms revealed, To reap it they are ready. HARVEST IDYL. 123 " And now they bend their willing frames, And then large handsful grasping, Now the bright hook a moment flames, Then the crisp straw is rasping. " And now the prostrate ears he ties, With twisted straw close banding, And everywhere the sheaves arise, In clustered shocks upstanding. " Then to his willing grasp again The sickle quick return eth, Till from his temples streams the rain, Till heat his broad back burneth. " The cattle, when with heat opprest, May seek the shady cover, And stand or lounge in lazy rest, Until the heat is over. " The birds in concert may remit Their songs all listless lazy ; And in the tall tree branches sit, Shrouded in woodwalks mazy. 124 HARVEST IDYL. " But man must sweat, and man must moil, And man must swelter all day, There's no remission to his toil, Till in soft eve doth fall day. " Fast fly the sickles, fall the sheaves, "Which quick the reaper rears up, The shock each bending sheaf receives, And sheaves to sheaves their ears droop. " And now the sultry day is done, Phoebus in saffron splendour, Fast down the western slope has run, And evening cometh tender. " Cold creeps the air, the leaves above, To its sad moaning, rustle, Again doth coo the gentle dove, Its last song trills the throstle. " Diana, ' huntress, chaste and fair,' Above the dun clouds leaden, Slow moves her brightly burnished car, And fiery Mars doth redden. HARVEST IDYL. 125 " The groaning wains receive their load, One and another passes. Before the last one seeks the road, The reapers drain their glasses. " ' Hurrah for the harvest home,' they cry " ' Hurrah for the harvest home,' The wood repeats it to the sky, As it echoes ' Harvest home.' ' : Now Ceres, goddess of the glade, Transforms into fair maiden And long we linger in the shade, With evenings fragrance laden. And what I said beside this song, And what she answered sweetly, Would make this idyl far too long, Enough, the time passed fleetly. 12(5 HONYSUCKLE. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, In the uncouth hedge's row, (Hacked, and hewn, and twisted wry) Thou remaina't to beautify. Figure air of constant friend, When misfortune doth descend, Such a friend I will desire, Who shall never, never, tire, When misfortune doth befall, Such a friend, true friend I call. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow Violet, primrose, ye may go, HON'YSUCKLE. 127 First attachments soon decline, Thou shalt be ray choice, woodbine. When the summer flowers are past, Thou remainest till the last, Wreathing round the wild briar rose, Garlanding the bloomy sloes, When the Speedwell's blanched and pale, Thou art vigorous and hale. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee, everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow : When the arid winds do blow, Thou dost board up sweets somewhere, And disperse them on the air. Puffs of sweetness from thee come, Puffs of magical perfume, When we sink in autumn's heat, At — thou fair one, — at thy feet Aromatic odours fine, Float around my sweet woodbine. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee, everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, Mossy cushioned banks below, 128 HONYSUCKLE. I have yet another thought, From thy sweet ambrosia caught. 'Tis not sweetness such as comes From the sickly concert rooms, From the painted — pasted fair, Scented kerchief, scented hair, Not so artificial thine, O my fragrant, fair, woodbine. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, To compare with thee, I know One, whose ringlets dance like thine, Golden haired Evangeline. When her sunny locks appear, And her eyes so sapphire clear, And her lips so tempting sweet, Fast my troubled heart doth beat, When among thy blooms she comes, Sweeter her's than thy perfumes. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee, everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, Nettles rank and weeds below, HONEYSUCKLE. 129 Thou dost bend and look on them, Bend thy regal diadem. Picture of the good and great, Who relax their lofty state, Who relax their show and pride, To the poor ones by their side, Should that state be ever mine, Thou shalt teach me, then, woodbine. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee, everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, Where else find thee, where else go ? Kound the humble peasant's door, Thou entwin'st thy wealthy store. And when day's fatigues are sped, Comes he, with uncovered head, Comes he, while the evening breeze, Loiters yet among the trees, — Comes he, lovely sight to see, And he seats him under thee. Honeysuckle, woodbine fair, How I love thee, everywhere, — Everywhere that thou dost grow, I'll not any where else go ; K 130 HAWTHORN. I'll not send thee, lovely flower, From the humble peasant's bower. There thou hast thy home, and there, Sweetenest the arduous air, Sweetenest the evening hour, When he seeks thy fragrant bower, There my woodbine still remain, Cheer his toils, relieve his pain, For there most precious is thy humble reign. HAWTHORN In the dingles and the dells, Oh ! how sweet the hawthorn smells ; All the hedge its light illumes, Oh ! how copious its blooms — Snowy petals, anthers red, Light and perfume it doth shed : Oh ! how sweet the Hawthorn smells, In the dingles and the dells. HAWTH011X. 131 What a sumptuous array, In the merry month of May ; Meadows gleam in golden pride, Fledglings their young plumes have tried, Blossoms crowd on many a tree, Blossoms, Hawthorn, crowd on thee : In the merry month of May, What a sumptuous array. All ye fragrant ilowers and fair, Come and with my choice compare ; Sweet the mountain ash and lime, Sweet the Lilac in its prime, Fragrant is the Eglantine, All their sweets in thee combine : Come and with my choice compare, All ye fragrant flowers and fair. Pearly rain-drops, shivering, shine, Hawthorn, in that cup of thine, When the flying cloud doth spill Bich bequest o'er vale and hill, It doth gather in its cups, Countless, glittering, gleaming sups- Hawthorn, in that cup of thine, Pearly rain-drops, shivering, shine. k2 132 HAWTHORN. Precious to the linnet free Is thy flowery canopy ; Hawthorn, in thy bounteous breast, Hidden, is the linnet's nest, And intoxicate by thee, It doth warble mellowly : Precious to the linnet free, Is thy flowery canopy. To the bee thou dost dispense Stores of honey — stores immense : Now from pupa shell set free, Wandereth the honey bee, And he doth forsake each flower, Rifling the hawthorn bower : Stores of honey — stores immense, To the bee thou dost dispense. Thou dost to thine arms invite, Yet another winged sprite, — Butterflies with velvet wing, 'Mong thy blooms go fluttering, 'Lighting here and 'lighting there, Sipping from thy chalice rare : Yet another winged sprite, Thou dost to thine arms invite. HAWTHORN. 133 In the merry month of May, What a sumptuous array ; In the dingles and the dells, In the fields the Hawthorn dwells, In the woodland and the wild, Bare of all else, thou hast smiled : What a sumptuous array, In the merry month of May. I have seen a field all gold, Which thy broad white arms did fold, Then I at my feet did look, And a little Daisy took ; Field, thou'rt like the Daisy's eye, Hawthorn, thou its radii : All the fields of England gay, Daisies do appear in May. Hawthorn, soon as summer's here, All thy glories disappear, All thy perfumes will be spent, All thy blossoms will be rent ; So doth human beauty fade, Once in graceful charm arrayed : All thy glories disappear, Hawthorn, soon as summer's here. 134 THE IVY. When time was young, and primal man In happy innocency dwelt, His language of a narrow span, His thoughts with leaves and flowers he spelt. And so the Ivy still which clung Tenacious to the furrowed oak, And greener grew, and firmer flung Its clasping arms when winter woke In sleet and hail, and howling blast, And rageful smote the quivering tree, 'Twas friendship's arms the Ivy cast To shield from its severity. And still the ivy leaflets tell, Loud to the heart of friendship's power, When storms of adverse fortune swell, And spiritual tempests lower. THE IVY. 135 But now they bear not that alone, Another language they acquire, Say who bestowed that sweeter tone, The mellow voice of love's desire. What time when winter stripped the trees Of all their verdant leafage fair, And Boreas quenched the fondling breeze Which failed the withering flowers to spare ; Chloe, to cheer her drooping love, Came forth to seek love's blushing flower, She sought from end to end the grove, Vainly she spent the wishful hour. Pensive returning to her bower, She sat deploring in its shade, When sudden from its roof a shower Two ivy leaves before her laid : She spread them in her velvet palm, And said, " Fast friendship still proclaim, But thou shalt have a sweeter charm — Henceforth, breathe love's diviner name." And now a wonder I declare, Defiant of the scoffer's doubt, Faint streaks of green rose branching there, And spread the dark leaves' space about ; 136 BYRON. Whereas the ivy leaflet bore One glossy texture, dark and deep, Now interlacing streaks it wore, So love in friendship's arms doth sleep. Now time is old, and fallen man Regains lost innocence in part, With language of a larger span, Leaves lisp the language of the heart. BYRON It was an evening in the time When autumn's blended colours rare, Suffused the oak, and elm, and lime, Of Newstead's groves and gardens fair. BYRON. 137 When he, the young boy-bard sublime, Walked on the lucid lake's far shore, And Mary Chaworth walked with him, Rapt listening as he pictured o'er The teeming fancies of his brain, In lapse of eloquent discourse, While in his breast a pleasing pain There crept with love's resistless force. And as with ling'ring step, and slow, They mutual trod the twilight grove, Emerging from the covert, lo ! O'er a fair scene their glad eyes rove. Across the glassy surface far, The old monastic structure stands, While its grey walls and turrets are Clasped by the wide woods' emerald hands. " Behold," he said, with flashing eyes, " More beautiful the structure seems Than when at hand its walls arise, Now shining in the sun's slant beams. As from the past a spirit light Hallows and sanctifies the place, So stories of old time delight The mind which loves them to retrace." 138 BYRON. Then she, with half-averted eye, And slightly quiv'ring voice, though clear, While from her breast escaped a sigh, Said, "Friends when distant are more dear." Then he — " O might I hope that when I'm distant far from thee, my love, Thou would'st remember Byron, then, And this thy own sweet truism prove ; I would, where'er my footsteps stray, In learning's halls, on foreign soil, Still turn to thee as earth to day, And to deserve thy love would toil. Her eyes consenting answer gave, He locked her in a long embrace, And said, " Thou'rt mine until we have, Each in the skies an angel's place." Now Newstead's groves and Annesley's bowers Are left : in sterner scenes to move ; Mary forgot, in fashion's hours, Her distant friend and absent love. When he returned — in haughty pride — She frowned " the lame boy" in the dust, And she became another's bride, And he a slave to lawless lust. HOW SHALL I TELL TO MY LO\ 139 Read, maidens, this, aud warning take, Drop, for the wretched bard, a tear; And, oh ! in all the vows you make, Remember still the distant dear. HOW SHALL I TELL TO MY LOVE. Oh ! how shall I tell to my love The pain which distracts my fond breast ? Oh ! would I had wings like a dove To fly to thy bosom for rest. The trembling creature thou'dst take, And smooth its soft down with thine hand ; Oh ! then in my true form I'd wake, Before thee in ecstasy stand. Oh ! then in thine ear I would pour ! The tale of my passionate love — " How sad was my heart and how sore, While fondness and fear therein strove." 140 HOW SHALL I TELL TO MY LOVE. Oh ! could I that tree but become, Thine own little nursling and care, No longer with grief I'd consume, If so I might look on my fair. Oh ! could I that bird in thy bower, That robin or linnet be made, I'd warble my love in each hour Thou camedst to sit in the shade. And still as my plaintive song rose, And troubled thy breast with a sigh, My own native form I'd disclose, And swift to thy bosom would fly. Then Philomel's form I would take, And sit at thy casement all night, And sing till thy visions partake A sad and a softened delight. I'd sing a sad tale of true love, And beauty, that love which did scorn, And cruel, contemptuous drove The swain, till he perished forlorn. HOW SHALL I TELL TO MY LOVE. 141 And still as I sung I would sigh, And still as I sighed I would sing, Till sluices of tears from thine eye In streams sympathetic should spring. And then, when sad pity had found A way to thy breast, I would speak A name, and the woods should resound, His heart how with love it did break. Alas ! there's no potent sprite now To give me the kindly disguise ; My cheeks the brine streamlets must plough, My bosom must trouble with sighs. For how shall I tell to my love, The pain which distracts my fond breast ? Oh ! would I had wings like a dove To fly to thy bosom for rest. 142 O WHO WAS IT TOLD TO MY LOVE. Oh ! who was it told to my love The pain which distracted my breast ? Oh ! was it that amorous dove, Which found in her bosom its rest ? When the trembling creature she took, And smoothed its soft plume with her hand, She read all my love in its look, And there I seemed truly to stand. The tale of my passion so true, Its low cooing cadence did tell, And then she thought, "Absent from you, I wish not my true love to dwell." Oh! was it that orange tree fair, Her own cherished nursling and pride ? It seemed that I also was there, Whenever she stood by its side. WHO WAS IT TOLD TO MY LOVE. 143 Oh ! was it that bird in her bower — That robin or linnet which sung So plaintively every hour, She came its deep twilight among ? And thought she, as sad its song rose, And troubled her breast with a sigh, Her Coridon sat in the boughs, And wished to her bosom he'd fly. Or was it that nightingale's strain, Which sat at her casement all night, And poured out its sorrowful plain, And mingled sad woe with delight ? Oh ! yes, as the Bulbul sad sung Its sorrowful tale of true love, The pity her bosom which wrung, To think of her Coridon drove. And still as she listened, a vow Escaped from her breast unaware- " If Coridon's true to me now, He shall not for me so despair." 144 FAREWELL TO THE BLISS. Oli ! yes, there's a potent sprite now, Which gave me the kindly disguise ;- Oh ! Love, sweet enchanter, 'twas thou, Who pictured me so to her eyes. 'Twas thou who didst tell to my love, The pain which distracted my breast, Who gave me the wings of the dove To fly to her bosom for rest. FAREWELL TO THE BLISS. -O0>®