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DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
SONNETS 
 By the 
 G.C.M.G 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 Hon. Sir Henry 
 
 i2mo, 2S. 6d. 
 
 VERSE. 
 Parkes, 
 
 SINTRAM 
 By C. S. 
 
 : A Northern 
 Devas. Fcap. 8vo 
 
 Drama. 
 
 MY REMINISCENCES. By Lord 
 Ronald Gower. New and Revised 
 Edition. Bound in Buckram. With 
 Portrait. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d. 
 
 NEW STUI 
 By Prof, 
 post 8vo, 
 
 )IES IN LITERi 
 
 Edward DowDE^ 
 
 I2S. 
 
 VTURE. 
 
 I. Large 
 
 London 
 
 Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, & Co. LIP 
 
DRAMATIC 
 MONOLOGUES 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS P. OSMASTON 
 
 LONDON 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. Lt? 
 
 PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 1895 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, HANSON & Co. 
 At the Ballantyne Press 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THREE KISSES 3 
 
 ANY PASSER-BY 9 
 
 A woman's judgment 20 
 
 A philosopher's letter 34 
 
 A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONY .... 46 
 
 PART II 
 
 AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE • . • 57 
 A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE ... 72 
 JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENTIAL DISPOSI- 
 TIONS 86 
 
 PART III 
 
 A CERTAIN LAUGH 99 
 
 A FATHER ........ I02 
 
 EPISTOLA A SUIS I08 
 
 HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE . . . 125 
 
 127 
 
PART I 
 
DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 THREE KISSES 
 
 When first above the wilderness of souls, 
 Who strive for the mastery with Life on Earth, 
 And here and there break sudden from the mist, 
 And mark an opening to the light beyond, 
 These struck upon the courses of wide wings, 
 Each with great awe beholding the uprise 
 Of an imperial eagle o'er the abyss, 
 They looked not straight toward the prodigy, 
 But rather, as it were, an imaged spirit, 
 The soul's ideal essence, which each one 
 Had deftly joined with art to vital shape, 
 Working in the pure ore ; which counterfeits, 
 Though fashioned of most vivid loveliness, 
 Revealed alone to natures of proved kinship. 
 Ay, and affinity, — to such as held 
 
4 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 The sword of Love, wherewith to rend the same 
 And pluck their message, — the most secret heart 
 Of the subtle craftsman, which each veil concealed, 
 If to some few a witness. In this wise, 
 Though strangers unto sight, each loved and wor- 
 shipped, 
 But still as from afar and silently. 
 The other's handiwork, the gems which each 
 Inlaid above their world, seeking no less 
 The heart o* the mine, whose throes precipitate, 
 Orbed now and sealed with art's full confirmation, 
 Thrilled most where the dense night seemed most in 
 
 need. 
 And when at last these pales of gossamer, 
 These threads across their eyes were rent asunder ; 
 When he stepped nearer to behold this lady 
 Through lovely gates, which cleared an avenue 
 Straight to the unseen temple ; when amazed 
 She looked at him and saw, half unawares, 
 The angel in the way fling open doors, 
 And beckon her to follow ; when he stood 
 Unbared within the tents of that same twilight, 
 The notes of this most lustrous nightingale 
 Had long since presaged, face to face with all 
 The suffering which had inscribed on her 
 
THREE KISSES 5 
 
 For seal a martyr's patience ; when before 
 
 The light which gathered in the woman's eyes 
 
 The largess of a sudden exaltation. 
 
 Which is Love's sentinel to trumpet forth 
 
 The spreading marvel in a manly breast, 
 
 Seemed to shine round her ever and increase 
 
 Upon his countenance ; then she, whose strength 
 
 Was perfected with weakness, who looked back 
 
 Most wistfully perforce unto her Past, 
 
 That daring herald of her present lover, 
 
 The voice which ebbed away so faltering now, 
 
 The voice of one who trod life's bitter verge, 
 
 Awake to its vast shadow, ay, betrothed 
 
 To the approaching dark, — e'en while he moved 
 
 To lay her sinking flower on the dawn, 
 
 Essayed to shut its petals, nor to let 
 
 A man, herself gave up most willingly 
 
 Unto the perfect mate, coequal in 
 
 All outward gifts and ripeness of the soul, — 
 
 That soul she held God's bounty to the world, 
 
 Swerve from the appointed task, to waste the flood 
 
 Of its spring-tide perchance as menial 
 
 To her infirmities : humbly she leaned 
 
 Against the billowed salutation there, 
 
 Waving the same with benedictions from 
 
; DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Her wilderness of sorrows ; yet in vain : 
 
 Rather in that she smote the tremulous skirts 
 
 Of the ascending seas with sharp recoil, 
 
 She flashed the sense which has no means to weigh 
 
 Or measure well its own munificence, 
 
 Woke the invading wonder at its depths, 
 
 Stirred the advance of powers invincible 
 
 To fold her utterly. Thus sorely matched 
 
 She must fain bear her now as any child 
 
 On the dear mother's bosom, waiting thus 
 
 In solemn peace to watch this holy thing 
 
 Which seemed about to happen. Surely then 
 
 The dower of these kisses, one by one. 
 
 In pure succession trembled through her life ; 
 
 Birth of the morning radiance in his soul, 
 
 Sweet as the vivid dew upon the vales, 
 
 Unclustered from night's shadows, opening 
 
 The jewels of the dawn, therewith to crown 
 
 The drooping grass, the daisy of the field ; 
 
 Sweet as the mercy of the Lord to her, 
 
 Who garnered them to keep and hold for ever : 
 
 The first dropped soft as any weft of snow 
 
 Upon that spirit hand, which once penned clear 
 
 Songs of great rapture, leading him aside 
 
 To listen to the magic utterance, 
 
THREE KISSES 7 
 
 Seraphic, birdlike, rich with faith and praise, 
 And deep with solitary travail held 
 Crushed down beneath masked silences, the power 
 And mellow tone of all. The second swept 
 Light as a whispered breath of April on 
 The open brow, yet partly missed the mark. 
 Shot to a grander height, and dying oflf 
 Among the tendril whorls of loosened hair, 
 Which are the glory of a woman's head, 
 Came to him< with a wondrous tenderness, 
 Most winsome to the touch, softly uncurled 
 As mist about the hills. Gently they fell, 
 These gracious harbingers of Love's estate, 
 Then passed in breath away, leaving the sense 
 Of hidden greatness, the full height and depth 
 Of that most simple reverence, which made 
 Her work of love a missal unto him 
 Whereon to read the features of a soul 
 And gather all their secret : thankfully, 
 With joy exceeding, she took up those gifts ; 
 Yet waited at her post, intently armed 
 With pregnant admonitions, for the boon 
 Closer to her than all, more inly dear 
 To the reverberant heartstrings. Only when, 
 Behind the muffled pause, which after them 
 
DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Filled like a thundercloud before its sheer 
 Deliverance of light, — she felt through all 
 Her quickened sense the entire pulse and flow 
 Of Love's tumultuous armies touch her there, 
 Clad in Earth's simplest womanhood, — ay, then 
 Her very being rose to clasp the wave 
 And consummate its glory, heart to heart 
 With his soul's insurrection. Sovereignly 
 He laid the perfect kiss upon the lips 
 Of woman wholly wed and bound to him, 
 Standing in Nature's temple, — the whole man 
 Discovered with Love's presence ; and from gates 
 Whose bars fell off unloosed, fell off for ever, 
 He caught this heart's confession on the wing, 
 A thrill of ecstasy, — ?ny love^ my own. 
 
ANY PASSER-BY 
 
 Not know the parish church, Saint Mary-le-bone ; 
 
 Why, bless me, sir, you must be country bred : 
 
 You should have timed your entry on the scene 
 
 A trifle sooner though, waved off the pair ; 
 
 Ay, caught this happy couple hurrying, 
 
 In handsome brougham, rosettes, and all the rest, 
 
 To Brighton, or say Paris just as like, 
 
 'Tis never safe to hazard where such folk 
 
 Will trip it for their undivided shares 
 
 Of perfect bliss, whose blossoms (bubbles, eh ?) 
 
 Shine gloriously in France or Timbuctoo, 
 
 Yet fade in England, so the noodles think : 
 
 Well, well, you've missed this time at any rate 
 
 As pretty a sight as one may wish to see 
 
 In clear September : come, the organ's march 
 
 Is wheeling to a close, your gaping crowd 
 
 Thins to mere curl of smoke ; a wedding now 
 
 Which warmed the place up. All by chance I took 
 
 My sly peep at the show from gallery 
 9 
 
o DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Some good ten minutes since : just as I guessed, 
 The two were in the vestry scrawling down 
 Their precious names beneath a chequered sky 
 Of April drops and flashes ; what with white 
 Stuck everywhere about the chancel's wreath, 
 Smart dresses too, which glistered up so fine 
 From friends a-buzzing in the pews below, — 
 Lilac, it seems, is now the colour most 
 In vogue among your ladies : what, — ^for this 
 Struck most my fancy, — with one long array 
 Of girls perched straight in front of the parade, 
 Fresh cherubs from our Orphan Charity, 
 Dressed neat and quiet, with clean linen caps 
 To shine on each chit's head ; why, with it all, 
 I stood nor budged an inch till man and wife, 
 Heading the gay procession, trooped at last 
 Through arch of lilies, daintily set up, 
 Ay, close to the front beneath those cherub faces, 
 To meet this blaze of sun, this staring mob 
 We still see thronging round us. After all 
 'Tis something of a fuss to make about 
 A simple curate's wedding, let alone 
 The general rights of making such to-do 
 When marriage is the service to be read 
 For poor or gentlefolk : I rather think 
 
ANY PASSER-BT 1 
 
 The point lies how your bit of joiner's work 
 Stands out against the steady wear and tear 
 Of life's long jaunt together. There's the rub, — 
 Which ought, I doubt, to ring up all the bells, 
 Ox send a congregation quick to pray 
 With muffled pulses for a startled week : 
 But that, may be, is neither here nor there ; 
 I rather wished to say this wife that is. 
 Who kept a Bible class, I understand, 
 And district in the parish, — well, she has 
 Both cash and birth to lean on : ay, they say, 
 He'll be promoted now a proper rate, 
 And end with bishop's gaiters handsomely : 
 The more's the pity, does it not strike you ? 
 He's liked, you see, this curate here about, 
 Not so stuck up as some of them, nor yet 
 Without a spark or two to let you know 
 There's something of a man beneath that suit 
 Of moony black and white. Well, well, I know 
 Just nothing of him, — now and then perhaps 
 A word or two has dropped across my stall, 
 Sometimes a nod, no more : ay, bless me, sir, 
 Don't think the likes of these poor gentlemen, 
 And he's not much to look at, when all's said, 
 Have very close acquaintance with us folk 
 
2 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Who swarm like ants about this big grave church 
 
 And strip of trees that bounds it. Ay, the crowd, 
 
 They come and stare, the women most of all ; 
 
 But half of them scarce know why they have come, 
 
 And half keep half themselves still locked at home : 
 
 'Tis true enough, — just listen as I did 
 
 On yonder staircase :**(?, Iwish^ Ido" — 
 
 Grins some stout wench into her sister's ear, — 
 
 " This sun had toasted us^ Eliza Jane, 
 
 A-washing yesterday :" here this one whines, 
 
 *^ Don^t talk to me of charity, my dear^ 
 
 A precious deal of that we get at least 
 
 In Gordon Street P Each to the same rough tune, 
 
 And so on without end : yes, life is hard, 
 
 A bit too hard to walk outside of it, 
 
 "With heels in air, and heart in neighbour's poke, 
 
 E'en at a wedding, sir : perhaps that's why 
 
 I try to snatch my whiff of light and green. 
 
 My stroll upon this tidy reach of gravel, 
 
 Outside the roar of cab and omnibus, 
 
 And children, drat the nuisance, — have my bow 
 
 To those twelve staring pillars yonder, — those 
 
 Strange goddesses, or Graces, which you please. 
 
 That plume it o'er the silence, — when there is 
 
 As little as may be to pester one 
 
ANY PASSER-BY 13 
 
 And spoil a quiet pipe. This time, it seems, 
 
 The crowd has followed suit, and at their heels 
 
 I too must now be oflf : but possibly 
 
 You may be bound, — through Chiswell Street, I mean: 
 
 Well, thank you, sir ; I like a friendly chat : 
 
 You seem to share my fancy for the place ; 
 
 Odd things have happened here, as I myself 
 
 Can plainly vouch, — take this for sample now : 
 
 As was my wont, some twenty years ago, 
 
 I chanced to take my stroll one afternoon ; 
 
 When rounding yonder rails what should I see 
 
 But just a man already on the steps 
 
 Of our great church, much in the place where we 
 
 Came jostling through the press five minutes since : 
 
 He looked your well-to-do, of moderate height, 
 
 Top-hat, black coat, trousers of London make, 
 
 Rigged much as you are, sir : his face, of course. 
 
 Was out of sight at first ; briefly, I was 
 
 Just rambling on, when something struck me in, — 
 
 Well, in the general turn-out of the man : 
 
 He seemed no loiterer, had somewhat there 
 
 Of weight to do or watch apparently : 
 
 Whatever may have been the itch with me, 
 
 I wheeled about once more, and saw him now 
 
 Top-hat in hand, knees down, and (it is truth 
 
14 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 As I who speak it) mouth flat on the stones : 
 
 Ay, ay, he kissed that pavement twice, then rose, 
 
 Fronted our church as though he'd hug it all, — 
 
 Waited a moment, turned, swept in my stare, 
 
 And swooped where I was standing : for myself 
 
 My first thought ran on madness, then on what 
 
 Is often worse than madness in our streets : 
 
 How else, the deuce, should West End folk, I groaned, 
 
 Pay court to dust and flagstones ? Bear in mind 
 
 I had no artist fool to deal with here, 
 
 Your sentimental noddy, — oh ! I know, — 
 
 Washed eyes, loose jawbones, habits loose as well, 
 
 Inside as out, silk collars worse for reefage, 
 
 Locks anywhere ; rather most solid piece 
 
 Of English workmanship : to deal him fair. 
 
 When first I had him full in view, felt all 
 
 The broadside of his look, as you may say, 
 
 Set veins a-tingle ; well, I set him off 
 
 As something in your diplomatic line : 
 
 Apart from beard of rather foreign cut. 
 
 Strong eyebrows, forehead bold, a nose which had 
 
 Just curve enough to make you feel it bridged 
 
 The devil's force at times, why, there was, too, 
 
 A settled pose about this gentleman, 
 
 Which argued clear enough our mountebank 
 
ANY PASSER-BY 15 
 
 Went through his strange performance with an aim 
 
 Somewhat above the laughter of the pit 
 
 For which I stood, it seemed : ah, bless me, sir, 
 
 Don't fancy he was flustered ; why, he strolled 
 
 As comfortably to me as though he bowed 
 
 With Oriental promptness to the sun, 
 
 Concealed for him within our blessed church — 
 
 Well, once a day, at least : and yet, withal, 
 
 There was a kind of something in those eyes, 
 
 A twinkle o'er the down of depths below, 
 
 A sort of halo, — like your morning's breadth, — 
 
 A softness, shall I say, he brought with him. 
 
 Which struck me odd enough in one so like 
 
 Your buttoned man of world in other ways : 
 
 Ay, whether sane or mad, — we'll drop that bone, — 
 
 Rely on it he was some man of mark. 
 
 Could stand, I warrant, near your bullet heads 
 
 And face them with the best : confound it all. 
 
 If he was cracked I wish your parsons were 
 
 Somewhat less sane at times : he seemed to take 
 
 You by the heart at once ; not that he said 
 
 So much, I will confess, but all he said 
 
 Gave one the fillip of true fellowship. 
 
 Put one at ease, you know : yes, that was it, — 
 
 He looked you through without your knowing it, 
 
1 6 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Or if you knew it made you think he looked 
 
 For what was best to look for, none the less 
 
 Seemed interested quite with all I said, 
 
 And brightened with my bit of taste for books ; 
 
 Last, praised the church, and whispered under breath, 
 
 As though more to himself than me, how once 
 
 It brought a certain friend of his more good 
 
 Than he would ever answer for with life 
 
 And loving work to round it : that was all — 
 
 No, damn it, sir, for then he looked again. 
 
 Seemed half in doubt, but changed his whim and 
 
 smiled, 
 That smile was just the best thing that he did ; 
 Then he shook hands and parted. There's the tale. 
 Of course when I got home it all dropped out ; 
 Well, Susan, my poor wife, — ay, sir, she's gone 
 This many a year where all uncertainties, 
 We'll hope, clear up some fashion ; she just held 
 That all was plain as simple bread and cheese : 
 " Why, any fool," she laughed (I let her run, 
 She only stopped when I threw down the reins), 
 ** Could see with half an eye this gentleman 
 Was married to his lady in the church. 
 Spliced to some pretty doll he worshipped still 
 In spite of one long month." But that, no doubt, 
 
ANY PASSER-BY 17 
 
 Is just your woman's trick of cutting each 
 
 And every knot one way : they always think 
 
 A woman must be hid beneath the crust, 
 
 When any strange occurrence crops above 
 
 Their sleepy vision's surface. Now, there's James, — 
 
 Oh, he's a 'cute one, smart with fingers too. 
 
 Should push up mighty fast if books and talk 
 
 Are steam enough to drive with, which I doubt, — 
 
 He's crammed his pate, — ** Oh, glorious pool," I say, 
 
 ** Of dancing moonshine where the likes of us 
 
 Must swim or founder now-a-days, it seems," — 
 
 With notions how his friends are going soon 
 
 To roll out all the world, rich folk and poor, 
 
 To one rare level ; still, I sometimes think. 
 
 He'd fare more easy, tracking the old dad, 
 
 To try and cut his trousers more in fit 
 
 With fashions round him : you'll forgive the vein, 
 
 My little bit of pride over the lad : 
 
 Well, James, he thought his mother quite astray. 
 
 Laughed at her that he did : " Mark me, this 
 
 swell i'^ — 
 He always took most kindly to that word, — 
 " Ran through his pavement bobbing for a joke, 
 At best, I'll wage, to back some heavy bet ; 
 Bless me, you don't half know how idle fools 
 
l8 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Will strip their furs to wear a donkey's skin 
 
 And dance it straight to tatters." Ah, poor boy, 
 
 You see he never faced the lips of the ass, 
 
 As Balaam did, they say, and found behind 
 
 An angel too, if I remember right : 
 
 Which makes a difference. That being so 
 
 I struggle hard to steer between the two : 
 
 If Susan fetched the nail fair after all, 
 
 Well, what I say is this, and always shall, 
 
 I'd like to fasten eyes some day on her 
 
 Who raised up all this fuss and pother in, — 
 
 My friend, let's say for once : I warrant now 
 
 There's something rich to swallow, some ripe tune 
 
 To wet the whistle rarely, none of your 
 
 Milk-water mixtures, let alone the trash 
 
 They vomit here from Paris. As for James, 
 
 He stung me up somehow with all his chaff. 
 
 And took, I fear, a fling of pellets back : 
 
 " Oh, he might plane away," I growled in turn, 
 
 *"Twould take more time and pains than he was 
 
 worth 
 To make some folk he snapped his fingers at 
 Run trim with his hobnails." I broke my laugh, 
 And eased a kind of tenderness, which had 
 Gripped on to me, the Lord knows only why. 
 
ANT PASSER-BY 19 
 
 But here we are, sir, run to anchorage, 
 
 Right up against my pile : now won't you take 
 
 Some trifling keepsake of this stroll together ? 
 
 Some poet, ah, you've struck the flagship there 
 
 On her weak lines I rather think. Let's see, 
 
 Here's Samuel Johnson, prose and verse, complete 
 
 One blessed volume. What's that psalm of yours ? 
 
 \s he your precious minstrel ? Come, sir, come, 
 
 A truce to trifling, please. Oh, yes, of course 
 
 I've heard of him, or rather her perhaps 
 
 I should have said, to plump the mark more squarely, 
 
 'Tis her I fancy leastwise in the trade ; 
 
 But, bless my soul, the fry we angle for 
 
 Don't sniff that sort of stuff". I'm sorry though. 
 
 Good-day, sir, if you must : you'll not forget 
 
 Our bit of meeting, if I may be bold, 
 
 When next you brush the place. Do I expect 
 
 To catch the gentle curate on those steps, — 
 
 ** Translated," did you say ? I see the joke ; 
 
 Ay, but he was a man, this friend of mine, — 
 
 A rare one too to hold you by the heart. 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 
 
 What is my fixed opinion of the man, 
 
 You know, dear, well enough ; and I have watched, 
 
 As few have watched him with a woman's eyes 
 
 These twenty years, with more than ample cause, 
 
 Believe me there at least, when I began 
 
 To watch from where you used to watch with me, 
 
 Ere London called the young disciple home : 
 
 One phrase shall sum it up from A to Z ; 
 
 He builds all for himself, builds all much as 
 
 Yon hairy cornered spider builds his house, 
 
 To bag out of his covert, my boudoir. 
 
 The pretty share of game which decorates 
 
 His walls with dried -up tendons : one frank aim 
 
 Inspires all his sublime activities ; 
 
 He is the most illustrious flower of 
 
 Your worldly selfishness : Napoleon's greed, 
 
 Exalted possibly to higher levels, 
 
 Somewhat aetherealised and clarified 
 
 Of the superfluous flesh, but at the base 
 
A WOMAJSI'S JUDGMENT 21 
 
 And marrow just the same : if you have aught 
 
 To give him, and it must be freely owned 
 
 He is no Lazarus in his demands, 
 
 It matters little what the gift may be, — 
 
 Position, status, from the Duke his friend, 
 
 A gem, a bas-relief from Greece or Rome, 
 
 The portrait of some new familiar, 
 
 A savant's note of diplomatic praise, 
 
 (The sauce is cold enough when all is said). 
 
 The last word that aesthetic science lisps. 
 
 Or, — may I mention such a little thing, — 
 
 Ah, the mere trifles that a woman gives, 
 
 A silent look, a kiss with the whole heart, 
 
 The chatter of a bird that chirps too soon. 
 
 And takes December for the sweets of May, — 
 
 It matters not, I tell you, what is given, 
 
 All is but grist to the same mill ; he takes 
 
 The humble scrip or wallet that you bring, 
 
 Inspects at ease, sorts, measures, weighs its wares, 
 
 Then rifles the content of all he thinks 
 
 May add some worth or colour to his own ; 
 
 And hands you and your basket with a smile 
 
 Out of the open door, to clear a way 
 
 For heaven's next novelty : believe me, friend, 
 
 As with the head of him, so too the heart ; 
 
22 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 We women come off naturally the worst : 
 
 The strangest thing of all is that one soul, 
 
 A woman's soul at least, a soul like yours, 
 
 Can doubt the fact after a single glance 
 
 At what some fools still think exemplify 
 
 Their idol's boundless heart, and illustrate 
 
 God's magnanimity to little men. 
 
 I leave you to run over all the list 
 
 Of flowers he sucked dry, then tossed away ; 
 
 The primrose, snowdrop (what a snowdrop too. 
 
 How exquisite it shone out of the green !), 
 
 Then lily — bah ! how many maids has he 
 
 Thrust largely on one side until, it seems, 
 
 He found his diagnosis of Love's first 
 
 Delicious bloom and fragrance 'gin to stale, 
 
 Fall sick for very surfeit, and give place 
 
 To hopes of capturing the enfolded bloom, 
 
 The outworked citadel and treasure-house 
 
 Of the ripe mellow matron, wise as he 
 
 In Earth's most noble wisdom : you have seen 
 
 The clever Baroness his worship led 
 
 Heaven knows how near the whirlpool's centre, till 
 
 He showed her in due turn the depth of all 
 
 His marvellous devotion, ten long years 
 
 Surrendered meekly to one mortal bosom, 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 23 
 
 And rounded off of course, the artist's whole, 
 
 With true parental grace, convenient hints 
 
 How best to piece together shattered nerves 
 
 With baths and moderate diet. Nay, what need 
 
 To run through all the waste monotony 
 
 He loves to dangle with ? How does he now 
 
 Treat the last creature Jove's great look has tamed ? 
 
 What of the mistress his last whim has made 
 
 The eye and apple of his home ? 'Tis said,— 
 
 How phrase the miracle ? — this dew-eyed Eve 
 
 Without a word capitulated straight, 
 
 When first our Lancelot challenged o'er the keep : 
 
 Most credible — oh ! I can well believe it ; 
 
 Your candied tongue, your catlike velvet paws 
 
 Are ever those which we poor women have 
 
 Most reason to observe, their bark and bite 
 
 Being much the keenest ; when they flash out bare 
 
 They strike you to the kernel : but, why ask 
 
 What needy gossip flusters ? — has not this 
 
 Most generous lover written the blunt truth 
 
 For all the world to toy 'twixt nail and thumb ; — 
 
 Immortalised his vent, vidi, vici. 
 
 With quite exceptional taste, directness, rhythm, — 
 
 E'en with the luscious incense of the South, 
 
 The smoothness of Sicilian seas in summer ? 
 
24 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Or shall we say of the swallow where she flits 
 Over heaven's mirrored surface on the pool, 
 Which hides its slumbering weeds so well away, 
 And shields soft muddy shallows with the show 
 Of azure meads and mountains of the moon, — 
 At least the afflatus, my professor vows, 
 Of a pure Greek, a born Anacreon ; 
 Penned the whole idyl, — why, I ask, if not, 
 Lest the poor orphaned world, when he is gone, 
 Might fail to chant laudamus over these 
 Nuptials of Aphrodite with himself ; 
 Or haply lest his consort might forget 
 The strange munificence of her last lord. 
 Such is the tale ; all ask with obvious cause 
 Why does the fellow not do that which each 
 And every man of common sense had done 
 (We will leave out of honour) long ago, — 
 Marry the pretty wench ; or, if too proud 
 For such a lame conclusion, spoiling, too, 
 The choicest of his poems, let her go, 
 After heaven's reasonable grace near him, 
 And marry some coarse honest ploughman, who 
 Would make her wife in earnest as due bound : 
 Not so the heart this little maid adores 
 With such a passion : " Let me not admit 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 25 
 
 Impediments," — you know fresh English, dear, — 
 
 " Unto the marriage of," — what, any nymph 
 
 And veritable Apollo ? By no means ; 
 
 Else had Apollo's servant slain indeed 
 
 The lute of his great master ; no, but minds 
 
 Coequal in descent from God and man : 
 
 Could any thought be more absurd than this, 
 
 Unless that thought which hangs on the other side, 
 
 Of flinging a most sweet briar-rose away, 
 
 Rose which leaned out so fair upon its thorn, 
 
 And gave that first slight prick we could forgive ; 
 
 Which it is clear just lives to embellish now 
 
 Our ordinary habit ; sure it were 
 
 Pure sacrilege to tumble back this flower 
 
 Into the common rut for any clown 
 
 Who passed in clogs to tread on ; what is more, 
 
 Ask the dear girl herself: ** Believe me, sirs, 
 
 The Herr Geheimerath had long ago 
 
 Done all you wish for me ; 'tis I would not, 
 
 Nor ever will permit him thus abuse 
 
 The inviolable laws of wedlock." Oh, of course, 
 
 'Tis understood, if one word may be added 
 
 To illustrate the text you seem to have 
 
 So very much at heart ; a Countess lives, 
 
 Or used to live at least, not far from you, 
 
26 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 For whom your text had fallen pat enough, 
 
 So far, at least, as earthly minds may rank 
 
 With minds whose orbits circle with the suns, — 
 
 And found this genius, him you dote upon, — 
 
 Clap hands in mighty earnest ; but, alas, 
 
 The woman I refer to, half divine, 
 
 Shows still rude specks of the vile worldly taint, 
 
 In one regard is even less than you ; 
 
 And having first through green stupidity 
 
 Read the text wrong, and married some one far 
 
 Below the august requirements of her soul, 
 
 More foolishly maintains the open gloss ; 
 
 Refuses when the god himself appears, — 
 
 Pafet incessu deus, I am told, 
 
 Gives the fair sense in Latin, — to blot out. 
 
 With one courageous stroke, the error made, 
 
 And read heaven's text divinely ; hugs her home 
 
 And all the grossness of her husband too. 
 
 Tut, tut, how the stale theme drags ever on. 
 
 Quickens an old lament I thought the years 
 
 Had long since clothed with softness ; well, at 
 
 least 
 I have learned how to suflfer, would teach you. 
 That you may never suffer as I have, 
 The secret of this life and principle, 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 27 
 
 Which even now is dying, dying I say ; 
 
 Yes, it is clear this heart of superfine 
 
 Austere exclusiveness has long since lost 
 
 The little power it ever had to love ; 
 
 I doubt if he admires even himself: 
 
 He is come down to man's pathetic stage, 
 
 When the starved cripple tries to think his crust 
 
 A baker's loaf, and treasures crumbs that fall 
 
 From richer tables ; like a worn game-cock 
 
 That struts the rubbish heap he whiles his time 
 
 In poring over curiosities. 
 
 Picking and tasting useless odds and ends, 
 
 Thinking loose pebble stones the rarest pearls : 
 
 'Twas only yesterday that we were told 
 
 Newton was a mere fool for all his pains : 
 
 I won't pretend that I have mastered all 
 
 The irrefragable proof ; life is too short, 
 
 Too short at least for me, with all my cares, 
 
 The thousand petty ruffs which must be smoothed, 
 
 For rolling down the Andes ; as I gather 
 
 The gist or humour of mind's last correction 
 
 Is that the Night's dark brush, no less than Day's, 
 
 Unravels the Dawn's colours. Iris was, 
 
 According to Minerva's latest word, — 
 
 I leave you to decipher it apart, — 
 
28 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 By no means the Olympian messenger, 
 
 But rather quite as much, frankly say more, 
 
 The minister of Hades. Thus at least 
 
 The professorial pencil sketched me truth, 
 
 As our great modern has discovered her. 
 
 Priming the godlike gift, you may be sure, 
 
 With that more personal boon in many a wave 
 
 Of raw Homeric laughter whence you writhe 
 
 And scramble feeling drowned. What is the last 
 
 Strange fish-pond that has felt our eminent friend's 
 
 Line dabble in with tiny hook and worm 
 
 I hardly know or care ? 'Tis said he now 
 
 Sits pensively observant of the moon. 
 
 Which very well may be, who long ago 
 
 Was such a sage observer of himself ; 
 
 Probes the recumbent orb in one of her 
 
 Phases significant, when the old fire, 
 
 Which sucked the life-blood from the central core, 
 
 Racked a whole world in chaos of the pit 
 
 And awful suicide, hurled to the heavens 
 
 Mountains of insurrection, quenched the stars, — 
 
 'Gins to die down at last, congeal her mass 
 
 In scars whose silence has the tone of Death, 
 
 In bergs of frosted stone impenetrable, 
 
 Whence all the soft glad vapours of the Spring, 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 29 
 
 Which took and kissed the young Days wreathed in 
 
 light 
 And tears of silvery laughter now has fled, 
 Leaving that visage imperturbable, 
 Stark, obdurate, disastrous, we admire, 
 (Admire at least my burst of eloquence, 
 And prop the halting likeness if you can) ; 
 Cold as those statues which adorn the stairs, — 
 Nausicaa, Odysseus, Phryne, Pan, — 
 Up to the golden chamber, whence the god 
 Peers forth upon the highways of the world, 
 This new Copernicus we wonder at ; 
 Cold as Apollo's marble, and as keen 
 To hearts like yours and mine ; cold as cold Death ; 
 Indeed I think that Death himself has not 
 The icy chill that curdles from this seer : 
 You know what roused our sorrow, it must be 
 Some ten years back, the darling of his home, 
 The babe with Life's first sweet fair breath upon 
 
 him. 
 Is taken suddenly ; well, do we catch 
 The droppings of hushed tears, the least faint stir, 
 The slightest intimation of a man. 
 The softest echo of a father's voice ; 
 Oh, not at all ; indeed, I gathered from 
 
30 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 A young practitioner, a friend of mine, 
 Doubtless a merry student when I speak, 
 Proteus was quite otherwise engaged, — 
 Dry human bones, the original skeleton 
 Wherein man capered level with the brute, — 
 Arrested the great man's supreme attention 
 When all his household idly mourned the loss 
 Of some poor little soul, who looked too soon 
 And feebly on that world which now revolved 
 Obedient to his sire : David, in short, 
 And David's weakness for domestic tears 
 Had given place to Solomon the sage, 
 Anointed king with thunders. What, you think 
 David did really mourn for Jonathan 
 With love surpassing the old love he showed 
 To the mere woman Michal ? What, my friend, 
 You still believe the awful creed of some. 
 That when the flower of Israel, the great. 
 The princely soul that grew, and ever grew. 
 For all the thousand spites of circumstance, 
 Up to the ideal virtues which he loved 
 In men and women of the mighty Past ; 
 When the hard taxed magnanimous one, the real 
 Crown of heroic chivalry lay dead, 
 Warring upon the mountains for the king 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 31 
 
 Against the Philistines, not for himself, 
 Not for himself remember, — oh I forgive 
 The praise I cannot keep within due bound. 
 The praise in which you led and which I share, 
 If I may add my indignation too, — 
 When he went silent, the consummate harp 
 Of the rebel friend dropped also mute for once, 
 Shattered with sorrow and astonishment ? 
 Well, if it did, what then ? What if he grieved, 
 Grieves still a whole year gone to allay the loss ; 
 The passing of one soul that feared him not, 
 That feared no whit the steel of Nature's brain, 
 The accomplished ease of talent ; one that held 
 An aim for art and us poor women too 
 O'er the mellifluous slumber of a dream, 
 Above the twitters of Anacreon, 
 The babble of a Petrarch ? What if he 
 Felt dazed a moment when that eagle soared 
 Over the mountains and away for ever ? 
 Oh, yes, such blanks as these are apt to grow, 
 To grow for each and all of us no doubt ; 
 However we think to thrust their memory 
 Back to oblivion. But wait an instant. 
 Wait but a few months longer, dear, and when 
 You see your hero reap his recompense, 
 
32 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Run o'er the handy notebook which he keeps 
 
 (Howe'er his mistress hide it from the world) 
 
 Alert for such misfortunes, duly sum, 
 
 Upon that catalogue we know so well, 
 
 Each drop of anguish laid upon the mound 
 
 Of his lamented rival ; when you hear, — 
 
 As you shall hear, I warrant, presently, — 
 
 Him claim the heart which held all Germany, 
 
 Say, every soul that climbs up to be free 
 
 In the pure virtues which we women hold 
 
 Or strive to hold untarnished from you know 
 
 All that we women suffer from wild men, — 
 
 When you shall hear him claim this heart, I say, 
 
 As though it was precisely his possession, 
 
 An undivided claim none may dispute : 
 
 When you shall see the wandering outlaw rise 
 
 Upon the royal throne and shape him firm 
 
 In wrested sovereignty above his friend 
 
 And his friend's children, — then surely confess 
 
 For all your noble magnanimity, 
 
 For all your patience face to face with greatness,— 
 
 Defects of Nature's Titan qualities, 
 
 Immunity of genius, oh ! I know 
 
 Each specious subterfuge of your weak fence. 
 
 Your English breath of Shakspere and his brood, 
 
A WOMAN'S JUDGMENT 33 
 
 You stand at least in this one estimate 
 Second in wisdom to your sceptic friend, 
 The woman of the world, who simply writes 
 The hard, hard truths which she was born to see 
 And take in sadly through her waste of years. 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 
 
 Good morning, sweetheart ; just one line before 
 
 We kiss in the best way, and Berlin greets 
 
 Her eminently dull professor home : 
 
 Here I am housed at last, and thank God too ; 
 
 I have no cause to grudge this little round, 
 
 Which gives me one more look at our old friend, 
 
 And doubtless much to think on afterwards. 
 
 A pleasant drive we had from Eisenach 
 
 In perfect weather ; left the town, 'tis true. 
 
 Soaked out in ball of mist, a cloud which was 
 
 Quite lost, however, in triumphant blue 
 
 As we rolled up to Gotha : after that 
 
 Through Erfurt, — there, of course, he touched my 
 
 thought. 
 Our German pitted face to face with France, — 
 Through Erfurt ever on to journey's end, 
 October's sun had most things to himself, 
 Until he dropped one burst of passionate gold 
 Over that house, park, stream, and all the rest. 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 35 
 
 Just as we trundled, somewhat weary now, 
 Through city gates, guarded, ay, as of yore. 
 Into this quiet place : immediately 
 I stepped across to pay him my respects ; 
 The house was all ablaze, for as it chanced 
 The Grand-Duke was expected. Well, I was 
 Received in heartiest fashion, couldn't be more ; 
 And after some half-hour's chat alone 
 On anything, old times, my progress here, 
 The noble guest arrived. I was at once 
 Presented, and we sat down comfortably, 
 I seated on the right : no doubt, dearest, 
 These little trifles have their worth to you, 
 And you shall therefore have them : as for him. 
 He stood straight opposite, stood quietly, 
 As he is fond of doing, arms flung back 
 Behind him ; there he stood, helping us both 
 With casual interruptions ; truth to say 
 The Duke is rather deaf, and otherwise 
 Clearly much older ; how he will be missed 
 I leave you to imagine. I was forced 
 To follow mainly where he led or thrust 
 My contribution edgeways as I could : 
 Both wished to hear what I had seen and heard 
 In Paris ; among other things, I mentioned 
 
36 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 (We'll skip the world of politics, my dear) 
 That English troupe whose fiery declamation 
 Stirred in me, as you know, you have my letter, 
 So much astonishment : both, it appears, 
 Knew well the name of Kemble, and no wonder ; 
 The Kemble soil breeds actors ; thick as mushrooms 
 They sprout up from it ; yesterday, for instance, 
 John was the general favourite, now his son 
 Charles leads the stage in London, what is more, 
 Has proved himself the first to try and hoist 
 His Shakspere's drama dressed in comely English, 
 As suited the occasion, o'er the Channel 
 On to the boards of Paris ; well, that surely 
 (I write the old man's eagerness in prose) 
 Marks something to be proud of, and I'm glad 
 That I have seen it, told him of it too : 
 There we are one at least, my host and I, 
 And that's another something. Well, a point 
 Of conversation turned how Shakspere would 
 Have borne what struck me then, what still I hold, 
 Most violent, outrageous wrestling with 
 His verse and manner : there, no doubt, I found 
 It somewhat harder to explain, convince 
 My noble audience : the odd thing is, 
 I think I have not told you this before. 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 37 
 
 I crossed an English artist in the Louvre 
 
 Whose laugh fell pat with theirs ; the cry, he said, 
 
 Was all the other way : another star, 
 
 More piercing, more intense, a keener flame, 
 
 A Mars and Saturn rolled in one, it seems, 
 
 Bids fair to drive your Kembles from the field 
 
 Simply with spurt of genius. After all 
 
 My cockney may have jested, and he gabbled 
 
 Of course his native torrent. But enough ; 
 
 What brought most interest to them I think, 
 
 All Paris has rushed after Egypt's fleshpots, 
 
 Racine and king Corneille are now mere ghosts ; 
 
 La Muse romantique is the rage ; one hears 
 
 Effusions such as this I overheard 
 
 The other night when Kemble played Othello 
 
 With the true lion's roaring. ** Ah, voila, 
 
 La passion^ la tragedie. Dieu, quefaime 
 
 Ceite piece, comme il-y-a tant de,^ — O note this ! 
 
 " Remue-menage,^^ I think I hear you laughing ; 
 
 The Grand-Duke also laughed ; as for our friend, 
 
 He barely chimed with us ; looked even grave ; 
 
 Confesses Hugo's genius, likes his songs, 
 
 But thinks the man is writing much too fast, 
 
 Suspects, I rather fancy, there will be 
 
 In this strange importation of the oak 
 
38 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 From Stratford meadows to the glebe of Paris 
 
 A certain loss of beauty in the type : 
 
 The inflation will be there, the rugged bole, 
 
 O for a world of twists, contortions endless ; 
 
 Luxuriance shall have a right good fellow 
 
 To keep him company beneath hale skies ; 
 
 But hardly we may hope to witness here 
 
 The monarch of the forest as he towered 
 
 Over the realm of great Elizabeth ; 
 
 Perfected sovereignty from base to crown, 
 
 Primeval roots delved deep in virginal soils, 
 
 The exquisite proportions of the mass, 
 
 The lightness of the curling leaves, the strength, 
 
 The tenderness and grace wherewith he caught 
 
 The kisses of the morning through his tops, 
 
 Gathered full summer's glory in repose. 
 
 The majesty of winter ; most of all, 
 
 The unconscious ease which makes him stand for ever 
 
 A part of England only as herself 
 
 Stands forth a vital limb of the wide world, 
 
 A watch-tower of the nations : that's his view, 
 
 Or something like it, for you know he loves 
 
 Their poet much, loves him perhaps still more 
 
 That sister star he throned has long ago 
 
 Been setting from her place, and now, they tell me, 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 39 
 
 This very year, poor planet, on the wane, 
 Fallen from our earth for ever. Well, the world 
 Has still to bring his prescience to the proof ; 
 I merely marked the fact this soul of France 
 freaks to the birth this month a brand new play 
 On Cromwell and his thunder, dared a hope 
 He'd treat John Milton levelled to the prose 
 Of England's candlelight a trifle better 
 Than Voltaire served his master Shakspere's Muse ; 
 A diplomatic touch ; he smiled his doubts. 
 But, heavens, I'm turning critic after all. 
 Professor to the backbone : briefly, then, 
 Save the one little stumbling-block, I mean 
 This deafness, all jogged happily enough ; 
 An evening to remember. But you ask, 
 Have possibly been asking more than once, 
 How is the man in health and looks ? Ah, well, 
 Just picture him much as you saw him, ay, 
 A good ten years since ; strong even as then ; 
 Brimful of energy and youth and fire : 
 Hardly a wrinkle on the brow ; head still 
 Fresh with its glorious fringe, electrical : 
 Complexion clear and bonny : yes, perhaps 
 A trifle stiller in his ways ; something 
 Let's say of Autumn in the whole effect ; 
 
40 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 But generally just the man he was, 
 
 A head so brave and honest, sound to the core, 
 
 A heart, ah ! well, well, so much just de?' alte, 
 
 One really quite forgets all this blind Europe 
 
 Babbles about his rank with upturned eyes 
 
 Of vague astonishment : what eyes he has I 
 
 His outlook on the world of letters now, 
 
 Despite his weight of years, surpasses all 
 
 My boldest expectation, yet I am 
 
 No ordinary reader, as you know : 
 
 The last original his eagle stare 
 
 Has pounced upon hails from the stubborn hills 
 
 Of Scotland, home of Burns : the canny fellow 
 
 Sent him last May, it seems, some book on Schiller ; 
 
 His name has slipped me, but from all I hear 
 
 We are to have a Cromwell of the pen, 
 
 Cold steel, warm blood for weapons, heart of flame, 
 
 The Hebrew's conscience unimpeachable, 
 
 Flashed suddenly across the obdurate world ; 
 
 What must Achilles do but promptly wave 
 
 I know not what for welcome back again ; 
 
 Turn the Scot's head, when quite too probably 
 
 He overrates him now : at least our author 
 
 Has chosen for his text the very theme 
 
 Most like to touch the heart of Pollux ere 
 
A PHILOSOPHERS LETTER 41 
 
 It calls his brain to judgment ; but, of course, 
 
 I hardly told him this. Well, well, this does 
 
 Not sum up half, a quarter of my debt : 
 
 We meet as friends ; in that one simple word 
 
 You have what makes this visit what it is ; 
 
 No trace of ceremony ; indeed I know 
 
 He rates your own wise William and his works 
 
 Cheaply enough : in serious truth I am 
 
 Just one more cobweb-builder near the clouds, 
 
 At whom Dame Nature gently smiles as she 
 
 Trips on her open journey : I have tried, 
 
 Sought yesterday, for instance, to make plain, 
 
 In a loose offhand way across the wine. 
 
 All that we prosy plodders did was, well, 
 
 To brush more clear of tangle the strange path 
 
 We all of us must take as we press through 
 
 Soul's endless resurrections, than discover. 
 
 With something of surprise, ourselves at last 
 
 Bigger as we look back again. Ah ! Mary, 
 
 You should have seen old Nestor's eyeballs 
 
 flash; 
 He was alert, trust him ; not to be caught 
 Thus napping over walnuts ; no, the grains 
 Of excellent sanity I still possess 
 Are kept despite the tedious furniture 
 
42 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Of academical wisdom ; he likes me, 
 Takes to your husband, if you like that better, 
 And tolerates my hobbies as he may ; 
 Ah ! well, perhaps I buttress some of his, 
 At all events admire him none the less 
 For his sweet toleration ; in good truth, 
 All love him here and spoil their favourite too ; 
 Whereby maybe he loses : I should add 
 The son and father seem on excellent terms ; 
 All is just as it should be in the home ; 
 You'll like to hear this ; yes, it is a pleasure 
 To see them both together. By-the-bye, 
 Riemer and Zelter were with him that evening 
 I mentioned first, but tucked themselves away 
 With prudence possibly, at least with kindness, 
 In the adjoining salon : Zelter hails 
 Over the hills from Niirnberg, where he spent 
 Three profitable hours hunting down 
 Old Albrecht Diirer's grave ; it strikes me now 
 We could have helped him, eh ? Of course he is 
 Just crammed with praises of the dear old place, 
 Calls it the heart of Germany, declares 
 He never walked a town more full of meaning. 
 More touched with all you loved when still a 
 girl : 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 43 
 
 The heart of Germany ! I think it is 
 
 The heart of something better. Come, come ! I 
 
 Must end this scribble in right earnest. One 
 
 Last word, prompted by your dear last to me, 
 
 Perused in Brussels : folk in Paris, well. 
 
 Rig themselves much as we Berliners do 
 
 In Friedrich Platz. I noticed all about 
 
 Women wear pretty bonnets made of straw, 
 
 With big white bows most formidably stiff : 
 
 I think, however, I have not come back 
 
 Without a hint, a daring touch or two. 
 
 To mark your fresh appearance in the Spring : 
 
 At least I'll stake the promise. Yes, I know 
 
 My letters have been dull, not quite the stuff 
 
 Vienna waved you home, — how the years run, — 
 
 When David and Lablache made the blood gallop, 
 
 Turned your old pedant's flint to flame. Well, 
 
 well. 
 We'll try to end this letter your own way. 
 With Weimar warm around us and the glow 
 Of an Autumn's perfect evening. Ah I my Mary, 
 But then you see I've scarcely been somehow 
 Quite the old self all through this Paris trip : 
 Yes, you may tell Immanuel — he seemed 
 To have some doubt upon it when he wrote — 
 
44 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Even distinguished fathers like his own, 
 
 Who compass all the world in one big letter, 
 
 An Omega the world for the best part 
 
 Values the cipher of a fool's blockhead, 
 
 Are subject w-ith the dunces to old age : 
 
 Yes, I am getting on in years, which makes 
 
 Me wish the more to get back home to you. 
 
 Expect Odysseus back at latest then 
 
 Early on Sunday : for my part if I 
 
 Can make it Saturday be sure I will ; 
 
 But tell this not in Gath, — rather proclaim 
 
 Monday the day when all Berlin shall see 
 
 The main prop of her learning, — lest, why lest. 
 
 The geese and ganders flocking up between, 
 
 We fail to get one Sabbath quite alone ; 
 
 Oh, how I want to have it, — kiss and hold 
 
 You once more really in these arms. There, there ! 
 
 Is that enough for you? It ought to be, — 
 
 It shall not be, however ; for I am 
 
 In a most gracious temper, it appears, 
 
 And have a gentle postscript to append ; 
 
 A postscript you may thank good Zelter for 
 
 And all his Niirnberg nonsense, if you like : 
 
 Ah ! well, do you remember still those lines 
 
 I wrote for you, — you know the when and why, — 
 
A PHILOSOPHER'S LETTER 45 
 
 Or ought to know : let me repeat once more 
 The last two verses now and end my prose ; 
 
 When never a human word will sum 
 
 The joy which our love feels ; 
 When every syllable hangs dumb, 
 
 Nature undoes her seals. 
 
 Adds in abundance her best speech ; 
 
 The dearest, nearest sign : 
 We kiss ; soul floods across the breach, 
 
 My heart breaks into thine. 
 
A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONY 
 
 Some children are born singing, I believe, 
 
 Straight from the scattered egg-shell : I was one : 
 
 Most have about them something of the birds, 
 
 Then why not just a few their speech as well ? 
 
 At least I cannot bring to mind the date 
 
 When the young life and warbling did not run 
 
 Yoke-fellows hand in hand. Oh, merry days, 
 
 Mornings of April, July evenings, when 
 
 A pair of lovers, — that was puss and I, — 
 
 Made a lodge window start and ripple with 
 
 The prattle of our voices. What, my dear, 
 
 Am I to think those lessons quite in vain ? 
 
 Was it a poor lame solo all the time ? 
 
 Not that I wonder much you never tried 
 
 To follow your rash mistress when she dared 
 
 To break a lance with the inviolate, 
 
 To rouse our friend the greenfinch o'er the way 
 
 With some faint imitation of the style 
 
 In which he called the Spring back to his cage, 
 46 
 
A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONY 47 
 
 Stirring at last from an impassioned breast 
 
 The whole relentless torrent of its free 
 
 Indomitable rapture : there at least 
 
 You showed your wisdom ; nay, I frank admire 
 
 Your prudent abstinence : but not one sound 
 
 Caught from the busy street we watched so long, 
 
 Not one shrill whistle snatched from drum and fife 
 
 Which set our veins a-flutter thumping by, — 
 
 Was it on market days ? What, nothing then, 
 
 Not one soft echo murmured after me, 
 
 Trilling our dear folk's ditties : surely, pet, 
 
 That was too bad of you. And yet, it seems 
 
 I have but love to offer you, playmate, 
 
 Heart of rare memories, no blame at all : 
 
 Sleep your last sleep in peace. Yes, even then, 
 
 Ah ! earlier still, when the mere baby tripped 
 
 And tumbled in the open woods and fields, 
 
 Something had fledged within me. I have learned 
 
 But little from mankind of that I know 
 
 To be the eye and apple of my art. 
 
 That which I dare to speak of as my gift, 
 
 So plain has One admonished from the first 
 
 All that I ought to strive for, ought to keep 
 
 In quiet holy trust. Surely it is 
 
 Thus ever with the man and woman born 
 
48 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 To lift upon some rarer eminence 
 
 The expression of love's spirit and its flower : 
 
 The hand which pushes pushes from within ; 
 
 It comes not from the world, how should it come ? 
 
 At most we learn from our apprenticeship 
 
 The alphabet of patience, learn i' the schools 
 
 The art to school ourselves, the power to scan 
 
 And measure steps our feet have still to climb 
 
 With pains incredible ere we behold 
 
 The station where consummate art shall teach 
 
 As with authority. One prompts a hand 
 
 Of the trembling student, one the untrained voice ; 
 
 Another more prophetic moves to spur 
 
 The humble essayist across the bourne 
 
 Of light ambitions into the full gaze 
 
 Of the entire world's arena, there to test 
 
 And lift soul to its rank : mainly we learn 
 
 To pass with ease and smoothly o'er the keys 
 
 Of whatsoever instrument is ours 
 
 To clarion the deliverance : that which breathes 
 
 The breath of life through it bides with ourselves, 
 
 Nought but plain inspiration here shall teach 
 
 Our effort anything. Therefore I know 
 
 That I have most to thank God, for that He, 
 
 Already in this life a lonely woman, 
 
A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONT 49 
 
 Has yet vouchsafed the undeserved warmth 
 
 Of the very master : out of the dumb crowd 
 
 One man at least His loyal minister, 
 
 Prophet of that great Church invisible 
 
 We artists cherish. Oh, how the fresh touch 
 
 Widened the vision, thrust aside its weakness, 
 
 Stablished the faith whereto I stretched the ambition. 
 
 Yet fell so oft behind, uplifted me 
 
 With sense of kindred aspiration, courage, 
 
 Written and sealed in friendship. Oh, how good 
 
 And gracious He has been, how wonderful, — 
 
 Though He has now veiled life with death, and left 
 
 me 
 Only a memory, a recollection 
 To seek to live by. After him and those. 
 The one or two I've found most near to him 
 In dignity of soul, in strength and beauty, 
 Such as great art bestows, I think that none 
 Has given to me so rich a tutorship 
 As Nature's own most gentle choristers. 
 The congregated birds : out of her heart. 
 Pulse of her brimming life, they break from her 
 Exultingly, — who sing not for a prize, 
 Who teach yet ask no fee, but, like the child, 
 Timid before the stranger and the bold, 
 
50 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Have all the more to teach us since they give 
 All that they have for nothing : in their wake 
 I also would attune me liberally ; 
 Reveal one voice as native to the vast 
 Cathedral silences, which man has raised 
 Wherein to worship (precious symbols they 
 Of the yet nobler fane which roofs in all), 
 As that sweet treble to the woodland haunts 
 It hallows beyond measure. Yes, I know, 
 A thousand times I know I was not born 
 To live and die the prima donna only. 
 To parcel out myself upon the stage ; 
 To feel at last, perchance, e'en with the rest, 
 That which is rarest in my art's attainment, 
 That next to which my talent sinks as nothing. 
 Ay, and the voice which crowns it slowly change, 
 Slip from the spirit well-nigh unawares, 
 Leaving the common rivalry of tongues, 
 The restless strategy of conscious art. 
 The love of praise, the jealousy, the pride, — 
 All that the thrushes taught me to unlearn 
 And cast aside for ever. True, most true, 
 That I have known what men do call success, 
 Have been the centre of much approbation, 
 Both wise and foolish, ay, beyond all meed, — 
 
A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONY 51 
 
 Which proves but one thing only, this, to wit, 
 How youth and love, which is the salt of youth, 
 Have stayed me through all dangers where I stand 
 And thank the many friends whose hearts have 
 
 showered 
 Their praise on me far more than I deserve it. 
 Well, I have given also much in turn ; 
 Daily I learn to know it ; more perhaps 
 Than I could go on giving thus and live. 
 Oh, when the lark is fresh within us we 
 Can venture everything, even surpass 
 All that we dared to hope for ; then maybe 
 We can forget the strangeness of our choir. 
 Make the blithe soul ring clearly as a bell 
 Before the circling raptures of the crowd. 
 And barely mark their presence ; then we may 
 Throw wide the doors of our discovery, 
 And scarcely feel the sudden rent and strain 
 Of the soul's unloosened thunder, soar right up. 
 Free as the skylark o'er the shouting throng, 
 Conscious alone of sunshine and the blue : 
 It is not ever thus, it cannot be ; 
 Under the dazzled notes a nightingale 
 Waits for the opened windows of the darkness : 
 There is a voice which makes the twilight's hush 
 
$2 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Speak through a passion which is born of yearning, 
 Whose anthem floods most strong when all the host 
 Of the woodland minstrels hide away in stillness, 
 When the bright sun is gone, when the whole world 
 Sleeps, rocked beneath the stars ; there comes a 
 
 moment 
 When the glad shout of life, the ecstasy 
 Breaks, sepulchred in mist : like Agatha, 
 The forest maid of my loved opera, — 
 Was it not she who let me first proclaim 
 And recognise my gift ? — we see a cloud 
 Hover before Love's face ; we mark the storm 
 Thicken across the muffled steppes of night ; 
 We shake before the whisper of a horn 
 From other huntsman than the God who waved 
 The gates of morning open on the hills : 
 We suffer, suffer even more perhaps 
 For the great joy that came to us at first 
 With budding salutations. Whom God loves 
 He chastens well betimes : how simply true ; 
 Only from the bruised cluster bursts the wine : 
 Only the earthquake lifteth up the mountains : 
 I feel it, I have felt it,— best of all, 
 I thank Him for it. Ah ! the mighty rain, — 
 How it has broken all the tyrant shell. 
 
A PRIMA DONNA'S TESTIMONY 53 
 
 Stirred the soft folds which lay i' the dark beneath, 
 
 To float in emerald above the wound 
 
 And bleed with stars of brightness : it has shown, 
 
 Shown me more clearly still that which I keep 
 
 Safe for the Giver. Therefore I do take, 
 
 Have taken my resolve, and, like the birds. 
 
 Will bind me simply to the life which is 
 
 Most fitting to the spirit of that trust, 
 
 Most fitting to the love with which I take it ; 
 
 Lest, aiming at some mark beyond my grasp, 
 
 Yearning to teach the world beyond my strength, 
 
 I lose the power to give e'en that I have 
 
 Purely as God has given it to me : 
 
 What ! shall not this suffice ? Oh, womanhood, 
 
 Ye who may never throb with darling hopes 
 
 Discovered in fulfilment, ye whom God 
 
 Has crowned with other pains than those which break 
 
 Into the glory of your first-born babe, 
 
 Have courage still, my sisters ; never forget 
 
 That mother in yourselves whom sorrow's touch 
 
 Shall waken to the finer exaltation. 
 
 That wondrous guardianship which fences in 
 
 The fairness of your souls, which holds unscathed 
 
 Above each hurricane the little child 
 
 Your owTi pure mother laid upon the world, 
 
54 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 A miracle of beauty. Oh, may we 
 Move to the distant setting with the dawn 
 Still present in our eyes, deliver up 
 The temple of Love's spirit all unstained, 
 And in the evening shadows, to the last, 
 Still know the freshness of the rising sun. 
 
PART II 
 
AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 
 
 (A.D. 880-900) 
 
 I WHO have listened to the master's voice, 
 
 And hold myself advisedly the man, 
 
 Very discipulus he led with him 
 
 Down from the heights of Eden to the vale, — 
 
 This scene terrestrial ambitious sin 
 
 Hath blurred and blotted of the ancient smile 
 
 Wherein it stood confederate with God, — 
 
 Then on and over all the grievous film 
 
 And glamour of the pestilential dew, 
 
 Through the untainted halls of Nature grasped 
 
 Ungrossly for a temple where He hides ; 
 
 Up the serene ascent, seven stages more, 
 
 From Sabbath unto Sabbath ranged above, 
 
 Where the purged human soul, with mighty lift, 
 
 Storms lustrous to the inaccessible eye 
 
 And union of all essence, till at last, 
 
 As airs do seem to drown in the sun's wealth, 
 
 Yet spread awake to gather up the gold, 
 57 
 
58 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Each soul shall come to be the invisible car 
 
 And carriage of the Godhead manifest : 
 
 I who have conned the fair immortal page 
 
 Writ in five books, one book for every sense, 
 
 Crowned by the sense of all most spiritual, 
 
 {Est enim luminosum aliquid 
 
 In oculisj — wise Saint Augustine saith), 
 
 Who watched the colours of heaven's upper prime 
 
 Tingle one precious moment on this earth, 
 
 Flash out beyond a soul truth's perfect sphere, 
 
 Round it to the majestic stature of 
 
 Her infinite habitations : he who came 
 
 (As once Elijah from the dismal waste) 
 
 Forth from his island rocked by northern seas 
 
 Unto the softer climate of the Frank, 
 
 E'en to the gracious court of our wise king. 
 
 And shaped him here a Patmos free and bold, 
 
 Impregnable against the assault of Time 
 
 And all the batterings of this cruel age : 
 
 I who have followed him ; now that the heavens 
 
 Are hectic with discoloured prodigies, 
 
 And pestilence stalks naked o'er the town, 
 
 And Christ is driven off with scarce a blow 
 
 From many a sacred wall and lowly shrine. 
 
 Plundered by greedy fangs of all their wealth. 
 
AN EARLT SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 59 
 
 Sucked of their treasured wisdom ; when the Dane, 
 
 Grown lusty with the crimson drench wherein 
 
 He floated Doerstadt, Rouen, Fontinelle, 
 
 Lays North and South yet wider nets, as though 
 
 To huddle in one craft all Christendom 
 
 And pick her to the bone ; when from the East 
 
 The shudder of a wail, a muffled roar, 
 
 Comes trembling down the wind, and men cry 
 
 loud 
 Dread Attila hath split the doors of hell 
 And loosed his rout of demons once again, — 
 Innumerable as Autumn leaves, or crests 
 The billowed ocean driveth in his brawls, — 
 To hound all life together in one pit 
 Of horrid desecration. I who watch. 
 Here from this last safe corner of Christ's Church, 
 And see such things beginning thus to be, 
 "While there is time and means vouchsafed to do. 
 While I have strength of heart in evidence. 
 Will write once more the message which he gave, 
 Clenching the wisdom of the Eternal Church 
 With all that tutored mortal Greece and Rome ; 
 Unfold the central glory of his page, 
 The Paradise that was and is to be 
 When all the wreck and rummage of these times 
 
6o DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Hath passed away e'en as a dream which veiled 
 The everlasting Goodness. Laus Deo, 
 
 Albeit he observed that in the heavens, 
 
 This ancient roof above us pricked with lamps. 
 
 Whirled round gross earth's incumbrance at the 
 
 core, — 
 Despite all that the Greek Protagoras 
 And Eratosthenes have done to sound 
 The subtler tones and diapasons of 
 The spheric intervals, much still remains 
 And must remain obscure to human learning ; 
 Quis mensus altitudinem cotli ? 
 Who shall ascend Thy courts ? Nevertheless 
 He held withal that only through quick sense, 
 These outward promptings of this difficult world, 
 Man Cometh to his mind at all, and thence 
 Through the soul's letters, as the apostle saith, 
 Spelleth the invisible, — pervenitur 
 Per creaturavi ad Deum. What need 
 Of illustration here ? How otherwise 
 Was Abraham of old constrained to flee 
 Through heaven's assembled host, in tier arranged, 
 The faithful pilgrim of that Sun above 
 The dwelling of all suns : nor e'en, I trow, 
 
AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 6l 
 
 In the brave firmament of God's own Book 
 
 Thrust o'er the stubborn heart of man with yet 
 
 More prodigal spaciousness, — lift up your heads, 
 
 Ye everlasting gates, — did he pursue 
 
 Less generous path, long since discovered by 
 
 Origenes the master, — O primus 
 
 Inquisitor rerum well art thou called 
 
 By him I name primus primorum now : 
 
 Yea, probed continually beneath the crust 
 
 And superficial fashion of its stars 
 
 To find a jewelled worth, a hidden depth, 
 
 The Spirit of all truth keepeth secure 
 
 For such as walk more manly on his ways, 
 
 Putting aside the playthings and the pipes 
 
 Which lulled youth's tender heartstrings, as they may, 
 
 With little childish tunes. Mark therefore well 
 
 How graciously and slow from point to point, 
 
 As the child follows a maternal hand, 
 
 He moved within that Temple's holiest, 
 
 Beheld the secret place of the Most High God 
 
 Shadowed with wings of cherubim, which are 
 
 The causes prime and types original, 
 
 The articulate image of His worth ; for He 
 
 Is ever one with darkness as the wise 
 
 Most eloquent Areopagite hath said, 
 
62 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Writing to Dorotheus. Wherefore, first, 
 
 I put the question which containeth all, 
 
 " Was Adam made in God's similitude ?" 
 
 Not so, assuredly ; — how had he fallen 
 
 From where he stood consummate at the birth 
 
 Facing the morning stars and Lucifer, 
 
 Who is the smile of Christ upon their gladness ? 
 
 Nay, read the voice more close, who readeth this. 
 
 As he read : Faciamus hominem 
 
 Ad imaginem nostram^ — weigh every word ; 
 
 No rash identity observe, which were 
 
 Incredible for anything create, 
 
 But ample preposition interposed 
 
 As with the thought express ; *' Come, let us make 
 
 Man with an infinite capacity 
 
 To mirror the whole world Time hath revealed, 
 
 Nature through all her parts from base to crown. 
 
 From vital breath to Spirit and the idea, 
 
 (Pure microcosmos in his Plato's speech), 
 
 To shape him the vast temple, thus to rise 
 
 And contemplate the intrinsic loveliness. 
 
 With praise and adoration on his lips, 
 
 Of our Eternal Presence." Must we hold 
 
 That with the efilorescence of this life, 
 
 The first soft breath of God on Adam's brow, 
 
AN EARLT SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 63 
 
 The unspeakable birth of man, this bodily frame 
 
 Compact of flesh and bone took solid form ? 
 
 How had the soul, thus cribbed and sore confined, 
 
 Enveloped Nature's fulness ? Rather hold, 
 
 Ambrosius and Origen instruct us here, — 
 
 But now as ever unusquisque suo 
 
 Sensu abundet, — let each have his way, — 
 
 Augustine hath for once most plainly erred, 
 
 Thinking God made such sordid bodies serve 
 
 The occasion passably with angels' food, 
 
 E'en as He shoed and clothed the Israelites 
 
 Full many a year, who else had wandered on 
 
 Most beggarly indeed. Touching which point 
 
 Methinks Ambrosius hath right who saith 
 
 That man's august original nakedness 
 
 Was no mere transient flash of the tingling flesh. 
 
 But the apparent glory which shall mount 
 
 E'en at the last, — a radiant spirit armed 
 
 With matchless pinions for celestial flight, — 
 
 Had the soul only fledged them. Ah ! there creeps 
 
 The shame which ousted Adam long ago 
 
 From Paradise and all the apostle once 
 
 Fronted in the third heaven : he looked upon 
 
 The golden doors, gazed wistful up toward 
 
 The central Tree of Life, — the eternal fount 
 
64 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Whence Virtue flooded north, south, east, and 
 
 west, 
 But would not enter in or taste thereof, 
 Walking with God in spirit and in truth, 
 As Enoch after him. Alas ! so fair. 
 So blissfully entrancing shone that world 
 Of the wide beneficent Nature, he was fain 
 To deck himself with softness in her arms 
 Nor dream of aught beyond her and the sense 
 She soon discovered for him in his slumber : 
 Dormit Adam et fit Eva, There lurks 
 The germ and increase of this ancient wrong ; 
 He took for wholesome cheer the natural good 
 Which came with ne'er an effort, all uncrowned 
 With noble virtue ; and fond easy man. 
 Just when the sweetness blossomed in the ripe, 
 {Qucedam elation Augustine adds 
 The fitting word, as ever is his wont). 
 Why then he slept his birthright most away 
 Steeped in the luscious senses (notice here 
 How the Greek substantive, ataOrjo-is termed, 
 Aptly betrays the ardent feminine) ; 
 Slept sound enough, I warrant, till one day 
 He woke to find the creature whom he sought 
 And had been seeking after all the while, 
 
AN EARLT SCHOOLMAJSTS DISCIPLE 65 
 
 Though still half unaware, real as himself, 
 Flesh of the very marrow, ready framed 
 With the exquisite accordance of each part — 
 (Mark here the scathing irony of Heaven, 
 Wherein God gave to Adam all that blessed 
 His ignorant flocks with wanton gambollings, 
 Dividing the waste waters of his hunger. 
 That they might clash the more in overthrow),— 
 To consummate with touch and open eyes, 
 Expectant and invasive as his own, 
 All that his folly listed,— and he fell ; 
 Faith ! had he never fallen and escaped 
 The full sad burden of his punishment, 
 'Tis easy to surmise his sloth and strange, 
 Most strange light-heartedness {fatuitas 
 An ancient Father justly styleth it) 
 Had clipped and hedged him fast enough within 
 Some straitened village Eden, shut beyond 
 The grand horizons of the very temple, 
 The forecourts of the King : nay, it is rather 
 Clearly writ out for such as care to see, — 
 How else had Scripture wholly failed to attest 
 The limits of that first beatitude ? — 
 Adam ne'er passed through Paradise at all, 
 But swerved aside, bent on the dubious trail 
 
 E 
 
66 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Of One long since excluded any share 
 
 In those eternal gardens ; stepped his way 
 
 Till the squat serpent stung him with blunt eyes 
 
 Of downright rankness ; — ab initio, — 
 
 Ay, from commencement, — erat homicida, — 
 
 Satan had set his mouse-trap : what is more, 
 
 As though to storm truth's entrance with a flash 
 
 Of final certitude, our Blessed Lord 
 
 Hath set the precious gem in parable, 
 
 Fitted as only He doth fit such jewel 
 
 With absolute precision ; thus it runs : 
 
 Homo quidam, — (note, Adam's name doth fix 
 
 The father of the race, no man assured 
 
 We may depict as Abraham or Lot, 
 
 A man of varied traits and characters, 
 
 Conjoined with individual qualities), — 
 
 Descendebat, — was on the downward path 
 
 {Ofacilis descensus now as then !) 
 
 From Sion's splendour, — ab Jerusalem, — 
 
 Bound for the stronghold which so fierce withstood 
 
 The race elect of God, — in Jericho ; 
 
 Brief, had forsaken the eternal rock, 
 
 The city on a hill, where flashed the Lord's 
 
 Majestic House snow-white against the blue, 
 
 And ambled off" alone down narrow lane 
 
AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 67 
 
 And dangerous thicket, lost to everything 
 
 Save some mean paltry business : thereupon, 
 
 As any man of sober sense at home 
 
 Had prompted in his ear, had he but turned 
 
 When first his ass set off, he falleth in 
 
 With folk these byways fattened, lusty thieves, — 
 
 Incidit in latroues sure enough, — 
 
 Who stripped him well of all that Sion gave ; 
 
 Not merely purse and money, but (mark now 
 
 This palpable insurrection of the truth) 
 
 Of e'en the sumptuous raiment clothed wherein 
 
 He undertook the journey. There he lay, 
 
 Half dead with wounds and shame, till Christ at last, 
 
 Who is the whole world's Good Samaritan 
 
 (At least all reverend scholars chime in here) 
 
 Healed the grave wounds with ointment of His gift. 
 
 Repaired the grievous plunder. After this 
 
 Most open extrication of truth's core, 
 
 'Tis clear no room for solid doubt remains 
 
 That long ere Adam kissed the eloquent eyes. 
 
 Beheld two souls absorbed in sinuous flesh, 
 
 (Girdled, so Scripture runs, in tuniccB 
 
 PellicecB : mere shining skins these are, 
 
 No skins of sheep, as Epiphanius thought) 
 
 And all the King's apparel snatched from one. 
 
68 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Wounded and maimed in the side, why he, false 
 
 knave, 
 Was miles already on the road which led 
 From Paradise direct to the dark lair 
 Where suddenly the latent thief would catch 
 Our traveller hard napping by the way, 
 And yoke him with a pretty tale of woes 
 To think upon and weep through afterward : 
 Small right hath he, forsooth, to round him now 
 And charge poor woman with the sorry trick 
 She played, when, if the desperate truth would out, 
 (St. Hieronymus doth lead us here) 
 He was the first to challenge her to come 
 And share his dalliance as she only could. 
 How much his troubles thereby grew the more ; 
 Certes, all she did then, — give each their due, 
 As saith the apostle, — was with loyalty 
 To entertain her sovereign lord's designs. 
 As eager Nature prompted : ay, methinks, 
 The boldness of St. Paul was none too bold 
 When writing on this very point to Rome, 
 As though the woman's sin had left his mind, 
 Had ceased to be, or haply, with her woes, 
 Quite fallen in abeyance ; as though Adam 
 At least were the main culprit after all, 
 
AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 69 
 
 He thundered, — "By one man sin stained the 
 world." 
 
 This is the doctrine our magister taught, 
 
 vSet tersely here for uninitiate ears. 
 
 With but a glimmer of the pearls he swept 
 
 Into the heavenly compass of his book, 
 
 Unfolded in five spheres, as hath been said : 
 
 This is the gleaning from that harvest reaped 
 
 Out the fair cornfields of man's ancient prime, — 
 
 Wherein he spoiled the famous treasure-house 
 
 Of Greece and Rome, even as Moses spoiled 
 
 Old Egypt's land of all its sickled glory, 
 
 All wholesome arts and knowledge, leaving her 
 
 To founder with the rubble in the abyss 
 
 Of godless desolation : nor withal 
 
 Spared he the finer tilths, the abundance stored 
 
 By the holy Christian Fathers, Origen, 
 
 St. Gregory, Augustine, Chrysostom ; 
 
 But loving all, yet ever loved still more 
 
 The authority whereon each doth subsist 
 
 As blessed pillars of Christ's ample Church, 
 
 And rank in sacred Wisdom's hierarchy,^ — 
 
 To wit, the Book which is God's word to men, 
 
 And reason first and fairest of His gifts, 
 
70 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Standing in Nature's scale of precedence 
 
 Above authority. This is the substance 
 
 And deeper language of his harmonies, 
 
 Which drive, ay, as the chaff before the wind, 
 
 The childish tale v^hich soothed man's sucking years 
 
 With echoes of a Paradise on earth, 
 
 And celebrate with everlasting tones 
 
 The garden that awaits the sons of God, 
 
 Which Adam looked upon, but never entered, 
 
 The abode of Heaven's illustrious conversation, 
 
 Seat of the pure and lowly, whose gates flashed 
 
 Ineffable glory when Christ flung them wide ; 
 
 The temple where man comes to his full stature, 
 
 Sees the whole world once more as God beholds it, 
 
 Shorn of the shadows sin hath sown and nourished, 
 
 The evil and the good in sweet concurrence, 
 
 The universe His voice of melody : 
 
 Which neither eye hath seen or ear hath heard 
 
 As they shall see and hear when God hath wiped 
 
 All tears away and sorrows, yet looketh on 
 
 E'en now afar, as also Dives looked. 
 
 O'er the surrounding flame of his desires, 
 
 On Lazarus in Abraham's soft bosom : 
 
 Before whose threshold ancient memory, 
 
 The cherubim which faceth still the East, 
 
AN EARLY SCHOOLMAN'S DISCIPLE 71 
 
 Hath fixed a shining sword to hold the way, — 
 
 A sword no man may change or set aside, 
 
 Which pointeth ever to the Tree of Life, 
 
 Till all be gathered in the Truth thereunder : 
 
 This is the anthem Wisdom cries aloud 
 
 To these dark later days, when the whole world 
 
 Seems to draw near His mighty consummation, 
 
 So strange and full of signs unroll the years, 
 
 The thousand almost over since He came : 
 
 Hark to the voice of Love from His own Church ; 
 
 Et ubi corpus est, — where Truth is found, 
 
 Which is the worthier body of things seen, 
 
 Illic congregabuntur aquilce, — 
 
 There flock the souls who mount on eagles' wings, 
 
 And stretch to take His kingdom now by storm, 
 
 Where all in Christ shall be one man, where none 
 
 Shall marry more, be given more in marriage ; 
 
 Whither the ransomed shall return with songs 
 
 And everlasting joy upon their heads, 
 
 And see the excellency of the Lord, 
 
 Et Deus omnia in omnibus. Amen. 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE. 
 (a.d. 1 52 1.) 
 
 My glad and wholesome service to you, friend ; 
 
 Honoured by me, esteemed no less by all 
 
 Hale German hearts, astir with the new message ; 
 
 Much joy it gave me thus to hear from you 
 
 Such welcome tidings of the cause, and how. 
 
 Despite the ceaseless malice of Christ's foes, 
 
 This worthy doctor still doth press through all 
 
 Repugnancies to drive Heaven's business to 
 
 A glorious issue : God be praised therefor. 
 
 In sober faith, I had set down my heart 
 
 And gratitude some while agone, but have ' 
 
 Been sorely teased of late with body's ills, 
 
 Plucking the courage both from hand and head ; 
 
 Whereof the seeds were laid, I clear surmise, 
 
 By one most searching fever, which, alack, 
 
 Caught sudden hold of me some three months since 
 72 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 73 
 
 In Zeeland : thus the piece of mischance fell : 
 
 You know how I lurk ever on the watch, — 
 
 'Tis thus alone, I say, we artists piece 
 
 The perfect mould together, — for the slip 
 
 Which starts the ordinary smooth of Nature, 
 
 That rank or disarray which all perceive, 
 
 Betrays, in short, some new particular, 
 
 Haply some odd presentment of those old ; 
 
 Disturbs, at least, where aught of life remains, 
 
 Our dusty acquiescence with fresh qualms : 
 
 Well, last November : ay, it must have been 
 
 Soon after my return from Koln, — 'twas there I saw 
 
 The grave and relics of St. Ursula ; 
 
 Received at last, for all my much ado. 
 
 The imperial confirmation of our pension ; — 
 
 No sooner safe at Master Plankfeldt's, settled 
 
 To Antwerp hospitalities and work 
 
 At portrait after portrait, — work, Heaven knows. 
 
 May sweep abroad my fame, yet barely wins 
 
 Me doits to live and work by, — ah ! friends paid 
 
 Me otherwise in Venice, — than the news 
 
 Is bruited everywhere, some monstrous fish, 
 
 A whale of bulk unknown, the busy storm 
 
 Had stranded on the shores of Zieriksee ; 
 
 There it lay flat, must lie a good half year, 
 
74 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 All Zealand quite incompetent, it seemed, 
 
 To pitch the monster back or otherwise 
 
 Relieve her coast of this unsavoury morsel : 
 
 WTiich tidings so evoked a greediness 
 
 Of vision in me, the old itch to make 
 
 Report still clearer with plain charcoal lines, 
 
 Despite the year's inclemency, I strapped 
 
 Pack once again to horse, and started north. 
 
 We took the sea at Bergen, but, it seems, 
 
 Were doomed to misadventure from the first ; 
 
 For, after grievous cold and lack of fare, 
 
 We found us at Arnemniden suddenly 
 
 More grave bested, ay, though upon the point 
 
 Of hooking fast dry land ; some hulking craft 
 
 Crushed foul athwart, and with tremendous lurch, 
 
 A stiff gale blowing in conspiracy, 
 
 Toppled us out to sea, hands left behind ; 
 
 The skipper, cabin-boy, myself, a friend, 
 
 Two wives the crew all told : nay, what was worse, 
 
 The master stood there daft, seemed most intent 
 
 To drown us all with bluster ; thereupon 
 
 I hitched the craven fellow half aside 
 
 And dealt some counsel gratis, ay, from us 
 
 Mere landsmen, prompt and eager there to serve 
 
 His orders with obedience under God : 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 75 
 
 This helped him to his wits, and hard we set 
 
 To hoist some stretch of canvas, managed thus, 
 
 After a world of pains, to brace the ship 
 
 And fetch her back to moorings, — thus at last 
 
 Drove into anchorage : yet this ill-luck 
 
 Seemed btit a trifle near the main mishap. 
 
 Which was and is, that when we hailed the Veere 
 
 And Zieriksee, bethought ourselves how best 
 
 To stand with the occasion, there we found 
 
 The wind with tide at beck had proved more strong 
 
 Than the whole country-side, — with luscious jaws 
 
 Had gripped Leviathan and swallowed him : 
 
 Briefly save for a draught or two I made, 
 
 A count whereon I hold me most in debt 
 
 To Middleburg, a place most rich in art ; — 
 
 You ought to see its costly Abbey stalls 
 
 And gallery of stone ; but all the town 
 
 Appears aptly enough to sketch, most strange 
 
 The open land there sits tucked underneath 
 
 The banked off sea-line ; also I should mention 
 
 A study made of some most curious beast 
 
 Hauled from the brine, they tell me, with four feet 
 
 And two big tusks, dropped straight from mouth like 
 
 prongs ;— 
 Save for these mercies I brought chiefly back 
 
76 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 This plaguy sickness, which doth go to steal 
 
 The strength of half my days, changing dear work 
 
 Into a brute's dull load ; but let that pass : 
 
 And now this fishy tale doth mind me of 
 
 A most rare bone I handled August last 
 
 In Brussels, big as though 'twere fashioned out 
 
 Of square-built masonry, most beautiful ; 
 
 It must have run a fathom's length, and weighed 
 
 Some hundredweight, whereof the accurate form 
 
 I jot for you on slip herewith enclosed : 
 
 Ah ! Brussels is the place to dally round ; 
 
 A brave town-hall it hath, roofed with carved stone 
 
 Most cunningly devised, a labyrinth 
 
 And fountains to the rear of the king's house ; 
 
 Also beast-garden excellent : whereof 
 
 I noted the main figure : here I saw 
 
 The picture held to be the workmanship 
 
 Of Luke the Evangelist : with all respect 
 
 I will not vouch tradition, this the more 
 
 I failed to note thereon immoderate zeal 
 
 Or signal patience ; yet it bore plain marks 
 
 Of rude antiquity my servitor 
 
 Seemed carefiil to expose : I must however 
 
 (Pardon the predilection as you may) 
 
 Confess with simple frankness all these sights, 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 77 
 
 Add all the crosses, dreams, and prodigies 
 
 My eyes have ever witnessed, drop still short 
 
 Of certain other marvels there set out, 
 
 Marvels it seems the Spaniard hath come by 
 
 From this new golden island late discovered 
 
 Somewhere across the main : never have I 
 
 Beheld such strange contrivances of man : 
 
 I mention from a host of rarities 
 
 A sun all gold, one fathom broad, a moon 
 
 Of equal size all silver, two winged birds 
 
 Shaped with pure feather stuffs most exquisite, 
 
 A green the like I never met before, 
 
 The beaks and eyes bare gold : the monstrous head 
 
 Of some huge reptile all of beaten gold ; 
 
 Therewith the weirdest clothing of some tribe 
 
 That dearly loved vermilion ; bed-quilts too 
 
 With feathers interwoven of dazzling hues : 
 
 But then, it would appear, in this new land 
 
 The very creatures, all of kinds most strange, 
 
 Receive a strength and colour unsurpassed 
 
 By any found among us hitherto. 
 
 As for the art these treasures certify, 
 
 I may just instance, — this it was, I think. 
 
 Most did astound me, who myself have been 
 
 Apprenticed early to the goldsmith's craft, — 
 
78 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 The marvellous proficiency attained 
 
 No less in rich design than in the use 
 
 And disposition of the precious ore 
 
 From its original flux -. one fish there was 
 
 Whose every scale was gold alternately 
 
 With silver in most absolute precision ; 
 
 A feat, I dare avouch, hath never yet 
 
 Been rivalled by our best artificers : 
 
 In all my life I never felt so keen 
 
 An exaltation as I took from this 
 
 Most sudden glimpse, say, revelation from 
 
 A world of cultured habit like our own, — 
 
 Yet heretofore shut from us, — an estate 
 
 Whereof we cull at most some vagrant droppings : 
 
 Ay, even in this first display, I grant 
 
 Most liberal in what pertains to war, 
 
 Beside the symbols of pure ornament 
 
 And superstitious custom I perceived 
 
 The solid enterprise of agriculture 
 
 And proved domestic life. Assuredly 
 
 Even this poor recital hath well served 
 
 To prick your senses with some intimation 
 
 How the whole vision worked on me. How cropped 
 
 All this and more beyond the ocean's desert ? 
 
 How was this isle first peopled ? Doth it then 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 79 
 
 Imply some new creation, or hath taint, 
 As I myself surmise, of Adam's sin 
 Perversely seized man here ? Yet even so, 
 The instant thought pursues how folk discharged 
 So far from our embrace could have survived 
 The ancient flood's convulsion ; fairy-like, 
 Most fairy-like the truth doth spring out of 
 These latter days, big with discovery 
 And rare adventure. Well, let this suffice ; 
 Yet now I mind me of the main resource 
 Which set my pen your way, I can but smile 
 To think how this and that hath called me off 
 The task myself imposed, which was to give 
 Some recitation of the things which turned 
 The heads of half the men and women here 
 September last, I mean the Emperor's 
 Procession through this city : it is said 
 The main triumphal edifice which lined 
 His progress, with wide arches rich adorned 
 And built two storeys high, alone cost full 
 Four thousand florins ; took, I know myself, 
 The painter's warehouse many a month to make : 
 In short, nothing was spared, and all the fete 
 Ran off glibly enough and glad, as I 
 Will prove, when next we meet, by print official 
 
8o DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 And many sketches taken at the time : 
 
 Here but a word or two on that which most 
 
 Encountered my respect, contributing 
 
 Rare nourishment to feed on afterwards, 
 
 When all the glamour had died out, to wit, 
 
 Some curious plays I saw enacted on 
 
 The very structure marked ; most various 
 
 They were, some quite devout and borrowed from 
 
 The Holy Scriptures ; chief for me I own 
 
 Were certain stolen from old Grecian lore 
 
 And quaint mythologies, wherein I saw 
 
 Fair maidens, most select in comely form 
 
 And simple manners orderly arranged 
 
 For dance and mystic rite : the scantest shift 
 
 They had about them, this I may aver, 
 
 Save that which Heaven vouchsafed our mother Eve 
 
 In Paradise : in truth (so gossip runs) 
 
 The king flung out the barest glance that way, 
 
 Deeming such revelations hardly trimmed 
 
 With the strict tenure of our creed : for me, 
 
 I must confess I found the Catholic 
 
 Lame prop to lean on set for once against 
 
 The edge and instinct of our whole life's work, 
 
 The faith of all its comments, which is just 
 
 To seek and ever seek among the shows, 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 8i 
 
 Which only half give back the thing we seek, 
 
 That faultless whole, completeness every way, 
 
 Harmonious as the man woman framed 
 
 Long time ago by God for sinlessness : 
 
 Rather with absolute fitness I affirm 
 
 My good Italian friend, the Pope's friend too, 
 
 Hath marked consummately the scale of his 
 
 Hand's strength and manner. Love of Heaven ! shall 
 
 woman, 
 Swept though she be through every moon-white limb 
 From sole to the crowning glory, touch man's heart 
 With other resurrection than just this 
 Of wonderment and mercy ? How it galls 
 To hear for ever thus confused the mask 
 Of death, whereon the lustful dote, to their 
 Unspeakable derision, with the fine. 
 The sweetest veil, the coverlid most fair 
 Of any whence the Spirit of the Pure 
 Opens from Nature with the very flower 
 Of human tenderness. I cannot think 
 Heaven gave us this but to some fruit of wisdom ; 
 First, haply, that we men might strive thereby 
 To grow more strong to front it undefiled 
 With gentleness, or at the least that we, — 
 Whose most approved ambition 'tis to hold 
 
82 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 A mirror up to man of loveliness 
 
 And truth he ever is most like to pass 
 
 There where it strikes the closest, who would clear 
 
 The glasses of his eyes, reaching unto 
 
 Those hints of the consummate flashed above 
 
 The unsorted heap of Nature, rounding them 
 
 To their original and complete beauty, — 
 
 May learn from the sweet grace and exquisite form 
 
 Of womanhood laid bare in the due spirit 
 
 Our uttermost attainment, even the salt 
 
 And substance of our striving. Let me add 
 
 How I have seemed ere now to catch in dreams 
 
 Some prelude of that far-off symphony, 
 
 Those pure and great proportions which our art 
 
 But gropeth to as yet. Ah ! some one calls, — 
 
 Doubtless it is the wife, holding in check 
 
 Good Master Sterk, the imperial treasurer, 
 
 Chafing already at the circumstance 
 
 Which keeps him idle here with none at work 
 
 Upon his handsome portrait. Friend, believe me, 
 
 'Twas but a few days since I gave the fellow 
 
 A Melancholy gratis, — print, of course, 
 
 He cancels with his gift more precious still 
 
 Of spears from Calicut and some babe's head 
 
 Limned coarse on linen ; thus good credit dries : 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 83 
 
 And thus I break from you abrupt at last, 
 Adding perchance some valedictory word 
 By way of postscript with to-morrow's seal. 
 
 The fearful news hath caught us : how shall I 
 Send you this writing now ? What change is this ? 
 What of my confidence ? What of the hopes 
 I fed and nourished ? How a word, a breath 
 Will dash us headlong from the dizzy height 
 And crown of our ambition, leave us sitting 
 Helpless before the iron-curtained Future, 
 Yoked as with chains to the immeasurable 
 Weakness of man and all wherewith he striveth ; 
 The instruments of art, the furniture 
 Of his most earnest and divine endeavour 
 Scattered around us now, mere toys, mere nothings ; 
 Sitting in solitude and utter darkness. 
 The incumbent world as silent as ourselves, 
 As overstocked with shadow. Late it was 
 Last night the messenger arrived : his news 
 Just struck us all (and there are many here 
 Who deeply love the man) with grief most bitter. 
 Most blank amazement. Ne'er before save once, — 
 Your heart will surely presage when that was, — 
 When the dear mother died, have I so felt 
 
84 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Unhinged and shattered ; how much more must you 
 Have felt this blow, which makes your friendship 
 
 bleed : 
 You, who have gazed upon his face, as I 
 Too fondly hoped, saving thus some clear glimpse 
 Of its worn strength and courage for weak souls 
 The world shall yet awaken : ay, was he 
 Not my soul's foster-mother ? Long years back 
 I drew a face of sorrows sick at heart : 
 I feel the hollow insurrection of those eyes 
 Burn through my being now, as I did then : 
 How could I otherwise ? Mercy of Heaven ! 
 Who hath writ large the truth, thrown wide his heart 
 As this same Martin Luther ? Who shall now 
 Expound Thy Gospel, Lord ? stand up unblenched 
 Before the rule of death which blots Thy world, — 
 This most unchristian Papacy, whose weight 
 Of tyranny he hath rebuked so loud ? 
 Who shall rise up within the emptied place 
 With his most swift compassion, hold in leash 
 The mad hounds of disorder? Through my tears 
 I see but one old man, — thou knowest, friend. 
 The knight of Christ I mean ; and yet e'en here 
 Surely the martyr stuff is lacking ; we 
 May look in vain and long enough to find 
 
A NOTABLE PAINTER EN VOYAGE 85 
 
 The old clear tones he used, the thunder fit 
 To shake dense clouds, giving these musty times 
 The touch of Spring once more. Reach me, dear 
 
 friend, 
 A plain straight word on this calamity : 
 For whether he still lives we know not yet ; 
 Whate'er the tidings be, they cannot leave 
 Our love more faint than now who fear the worst : 
 How should we not thus fear, who know so well 
 The beak of this same kite, which hath swooped down 
 On your good friend, caught fast in treachery, 
 And whirled off to a dungeon or the death. 
 Write us with all despatch, — and may your love 
 Find able words to heal our heart's farewell. 
 
JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENTIAL 
 DISPOSITIONS 
 
 Albeit I will never aver, as some,1 
 
 The stars do mould and fashion all our life, 
 
 Will never hand unchallenged thus man's whole 
 
 Effective business to these deities ; 
 
 Crown them sole potentates, as who should say, 
 
 When some fresh stellar magnate steps from space, 
 
 (Have I not marked the glory?) — Heaven be praised^ 
 
 This war shall bring proud France upon her knees ; 
 
 Or, less ambitiously, — This poem shall 
 
 Shake the dull world with plaudits ; — or, as seems 
 
 To fit yet more with reasonable bounds, — 
 
 Coy Bridget shall be mine this very year : — 
 
 Though I will not stand prop for every whim 
 
 Wherefrom o'erweening man may thresh content, 
 
 Catching at every straw for sustenance, 
 
 Assuredly I hold that in these powers, 
 
 Through the wheeled motions of their vast array, 
 86 
 
JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENCE 87 
 
 The veiled configuration of their paths, 
 There is profound significance, which doth 
 Transfuse and interpenetrate the whole, 
 Girding each mighty troop in fellowship, 
 As under one command : there is a charm, 
 A fascination in these countless eyes, 
 A harmony, wherein all lift a voice, 
 Which doth communicate and vaguely throb 
 Through e'en the densest matters, shaping them 
 To one great purpose : how well otherwise 
 Shall God's bare casket with its weight of stars 
 Declare unfaltering the final gift ? 
 How might the web upon this outstretched woof 
 Of universe, this tapestry, which shall 
 Break with its veil before the temple's heart, 
 Reach the supreme design, unless a hand 
 Steady the shuttle which doth weave it there ? 
 Or, suiting thoughts to somewhat homelier guise ; 
 When my wife tends her pudding, she takes heed, 
 As every housewife should, to mete the flour 
 And measure plums and milk, — all that well goes 
 To build it handsomely, nor less with care 
 Doth nurse her oven at the proper heat, 
 Lest oven prove false traitor after all, 
 And hand her blackened cinders for the cake 
 
88 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 To my astonished palate ; and in this 
 
 Illimitable bakehouse of the world 
 
 Shall we presume the several elements, 
 
 Traced momently upon the myriad spheres, 
 
 Are suffered now to fly about at will, 
 
 With just a random chance that finally 
 
 They may commingle, fuse within the flame. 
 
 Relieved the while of all their fulsome weight. 
 
 In such a way to shape before the Lord 
 
 His perfect shewbread ? Rather I would risk 
 
 Conjecture that this tabernacle's prize 
 
 Is even now in process, that no sweep 
 
 Of one least atom in the giant bowl 
 
 But runneth to the beat of Him who stirs 
 
 Designedly, who stands unscathed beside 
 
 The dizzy conflagration. True enough 
 
 The grosser essences perforce respond 
 
 Most sluggishly unto the finer thrill 
 
 Magnetically given : nor is it strange 
 
 That this unwieldy Earth, like some big whale 
 
 Submerged beneath the ocean, or dull ox 
 
 Before the master's goad, may seem at times 
 
 To drop asleep before the leading-rein, 
 
 As beasts which hybernate ; yet none the less 
 
 It lives and breathes, a creature sensitive ; 
 
' JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENCE 89 
 
 Is tickled through its countless apertures 
 
 Of stolid animation, is at least 
 
 No mere dead lump, as there are still wise fools 
 
 Who reckon even now. In such display 
 
 Is nothing strange : what rather doth awake 
 
 My open consternation is that man, — 
 
 The wondrous midget on this monster's back, 
 
 The parasite, which hath been crowned supreme 
 
 Above his drowsy lord ; this drop of life, 
 
 So exquisitely fashioned with a sense 
 
 To look before and after, to perceive 
 
 The rarer texture of the mighty warp. 
 
 Wherein he hath been stationed as a point 
 
 To round all to a focus, — even that he 
 
 Should stumble on without apparent guide 
 
 To help him through his journey : this observe, 
 
 Not merely in life's ordinary walk, 
 
 Where feet are apt to slide improvident 
 
 Of any chance footfall, but where he meets 
 
 Some obvious cleavage of the road, is taught 
 
 To travel more adroitly, seeking aid 
 
 From all who seem to hold clear right of way, 
 
 And sounded observation ; when, in brief. 
 
 He pricks his ears, is most particular 
 
 To heed the gracious carol of the spheres, 
 
90 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 To catch the hidden prompter's nod behind 
 
 The overhanging curtain. Take my case : 
 
 What cause more suitable for sage advice, 
 
 For solemn balancing of all the threads 
 
 And tissues of the question than just when 
 
 A man will wed him for a second time : 
 
 Even a poor astronomer must live : 
 
 Hath other things to dream about than how 
 
 The clothes of Hans shall fit on little Karl, 
 
 To make two most repugnant ends converge 
 
 By that incalculable sleight of hand, 
 
 That trick some women have : well, well, their cue 
 
 Hath danced me off a pretty jig this time : 
 
 No sooner had they hit upon my thought 
 
 Than all were round a-cackle : in plain sooth, 
 
 If safety be the sprout of many heads, 
 
 Methinks I sat upon the very seat 
 
 Of Solomon himself. My niece it was, 
 
 The doctor's wife I mean, who set this stone 
 
 So merrily adrift, and little moss 
 
 It gathered on its helter-skelter down 
 
 To me at any rate. * ' If I must choose, 
 
 Dear uncle," — ay, her words ran smooth enough, — 
 
 ** I fancy I've the glove to fit your hand 
 
 With scarce the need to stretch for it, so near 
 
JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENCE 91 
 
 It lies before you : who more suitable 
 
 Than the same widow friend of my dear aunt, 
 
 Good Mistress Krebbs, who played the nurse for her 
 
 So like a guardian-angel ? hath she not 
 
 Already knowledge of the household's ways, 
 
 Your scholar's habits, hath experience 
 
 In bringing up of children, as her brace 
 
 Of marriageable daughters surely prove ? 
 
 Were ever folk matched better ? " So she piped 
 
 Her counsel in the market, with like stuff ; 
 
 While I, for lack of wisdom, held, of course, 
 
 Nought could have trimmed more excellently with 
 
 The bent of the occasion. Down they went. 
 
 Three names in all, daughters with dam to lead ; 
 
 'Twas clearly wise, in case the widow failed, 
 
 To have the new move ready ; and observe, 
 
 Three was a lucky number : what is more. 
 
 It seemed discreet in such a serious quest, — 
 
 Such prudence, may I here with frankness add. 
 
 Is the pure fruit of patience, say, the bloom 
 
 Of my whole life's endeavour, — well, to show 
 
 The neighbours, who flocked up behind my niece, 
 
 I still kept ears alert to catch what hint 
 
 Their gentle solace for the case in point 
 
 Might pertinently furnish ; stood, in brief, 
 
92 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Quite ready still to thrust net's throw more wide 
 
 If Fortune basked outside it. Rest assured 
 
 There was no lack of candidates at least ; 
 
 Each dame revealed her wonder : at the eleventh 
 
 I firmly closed the list, conceiving that 
 
 Transgression o'er such limit were to court 
 
 The jealous spleen of Heaven : faith probed me here, 
 
 Sealing the muster-roll in strict accord 
 
 With mighty precedent : which catalogue 
 
 (Suffice the phrase) of planetary orbs 
 
 Fixed in the field of vision, nought remained 
 
 But to observe which promised to revolve 
 
 About the sun with least apparent swerve 
 
 From the full circle's orbit. Well, all seemed 
 
 At first to run as though on liquid wheels : 
 
 The gentle dame inclined toward my suit 
 
 With reasonable courtesy, if just 
 
 Sufficient hanging back to make me praise 
 
 Her modesty or prudence, haply both : 
 
 Then all at once the stinging truth leaps out ; 
 
 These sighs, I took for gems, are found to be 
 
 Basest dissimulation, — well, at best 
 
 Compassion for the babes of my first wife, 
 
 With possibly some shadow of respect 
 
 For my nocturnal vigils. Here was one 
 
JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENCE 93 
 
 Home-thrust to make me feel the hidden quick : 
 A swarm soon followed it : the widow lost, 
 I turned round to her daughters in reserve, 
 Who merely tossed me back astonished heads,— 
 Chid their own mother flat, who played this time 
 The part of special pleader. Well, the fourth 
 Was eminent in nothing save a face 
 Of such extreme repulsion, it had chilled 
 E'en the chaste dreams of my chit Ursula 
 With traces of its horror : at the bare 
 Aspect I hustled with a bow. The next 
 Seemed well enough, nay, in a special sense 
 Significantly touched with marks of grace : 
 Here, if at all, I felt the prompter's hand 
 Persuasive near my elbow, seemed to feel 
 A veritable pulse from soul to soul, 
 Start of the veiled attraction, not unlike 
 That undiscovered arm of Earth which sweeps 
 In falling bodies and bright asteroids ; 
 Whose laws and motions shall be fixed one day 
 No less, I bold surmise, than those which bind 
 Like soul to like : such was the force which led ; 
 Alas ! too weakly, but that I still watched 
 For some more open wink of Heaven's behest : 
 E'en while I dallied thus the still voice passed. 
 
94 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 And in its place a thousand counterpleas 
 
 Were thrust once more toward half-dazzled eyes ; 
 
 Again I whirled in gentle company 
 
 My dance of will- o'- wisp. But why run o'er 
 
 The disappointments of the reel, — how this 
 
 Was riddled like a roadside hut with chinks 
 
 To let in every wind, which shudders war 
 
 Upon the human temple, — that preferred 
 
 To fan contempt behind her peacock's tail 
 
 Of vain accomplishments one day should plume 
 
 Within a ducal palace : surely all 
 
 Contumely and delay were meted out 
 
 In those three endless months, wherein I strove 
 
 To land my eighth fish safe ! Alas, the bait 
 
 Seemed just sufficient to prolong the zest 
 
 Wherewith the supple stranger plied the hook 
 
 To fling it ofif and leave our angler now 
 
 Prostrate with heels in air on river's bank : 
 
 With that rebuff, I trow, the pinch of pride 
 
 Still left of what was never a miser's store 
 
 Slipped trodden under foothold : I was fain, 
 
 Once more upon the track, to venture all 
 
 In doleful recitation of these ills 
 
 Unto the next in order, to strip nude 
 
 The rags of my discomfiture, ay, drink 
 
JOANNES KEPLER ON PROVIDENCE 95 
 
 The potion to its droppings. When all failed, — 
 
 When all my planetary disks had proved 
 
 To be mere comet flashes, what should rise 
 
 But that same gracious presence which I left 
 
 Marking the fifth disaster. Thither now 
 
 I bent in solitude, no mortal near 
 
 To check the kindling mercy where it fell ; 
 
 And straight was blessed with a most wholesome 
 
 wench, 
 Susannah Reuthinger, of middle age, 
 Comely to look upon, nay, better still, 
 Prepared to learn where old instruction fails ; 
 A ready housewife too, one clearly given 
 To cheer the home and match the children with 
 Some reasonable comfort. Here at length 
 This very tedious tale of courtship winds 
 To prompt conclusion, like enough prolonged 
 Beyond fair terms already ; still the doubt 
 Remains with me how it hath come to pass 
 That I have been by Providence so long 
 And sorely put : hath the bright gibbous moon, 
 Poised in the Bull's huge forehead, thus disposed 
 To these sad perturbations, or hath Heaven, 
 As seems to run more close with Holy Writ, 
 Ordained that woman oft should screen away 
 
96 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 The nobler architecture of the spheres, 
 Drowning their music with a siren's voice, 
 To lead poor man adrift, yea, all who lose 
 These everlasting presences, which thrill 
 So constantly behind, loaded with power 
 To succour and restrain ? Most patiently 
 The glorious stars have waited in their seats. 
 While I have thus been jostled to and fro 
 Through all the labyrinth, whither the whims 
 Of womankind do lead, ay, and will wait. 
 As they have waited thus six thousand years, 
 Until man's heart and mind have won at last 
 Each secret of their mission, each fair law 
 Wherein they range obedient as the rest 
 Of God's appointed children : to which work 
 With love and adoration I proceed. 
 
PART III 
 
A CERTAIN LAUGH 
 
 It dates its birth among those golden days 
 When urgent Love was still out travelling 
 With pilgrim's scrip and staff toward a shrine, 
 And all the path lay dashed with buds of Spring : 
 When hearts glowed deep in halo and in haze 
 Of mysteries each longed in turn to probe, 
 Striving and ever striving to divine 
 The ultimate glory of the soul's great gift ; 
 That truth of truths relieved of the last robe 
 Of gossamer e'en Heaven doth only lift 
 With awful tenderness. This flower-bell 
 Shot into life by no mere smile's expanse, 
 Nor yet with full-bloom laugh, but seemed to lean 
 Half-way between the two, full of the spell 
 Of both, as it were ; of such strange radiance 
 And thrill as though intent somehow to mean 
 Far more than either ; just the sweetest stir 
 
lOO DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Of melody, which gave the hush a curl 
 
 Of rippling joy long after it was through : 
 
 It must have been the unexpected sense 
 
 Of a new ecstasy which came to her, 
 
 And then upon those airs did thus condense, 
 
 Or rather with soft wings did so unfurl, 
 
 Blessing her lover with its sweet surprise ; 
 
 Which, though it brimmed dewlike and broke the 
 
 blue 
 That veiled the deeper language of her eyes 
 Into the wonder of the morning's grey, 
 Had such a treasury of things to say 
 It fain must seek an outlet otherwise. 
 And so it hovered bird-like in mid-air : 
 You know the way sometimes Albani's notes 
 Will nestle in the silence unaware, 
 And leave you at a loss how they stole there ; 
 But there they flash suspended none the less, 
 Sound crystals, shall we say, — electric motes ; 
 And then shade off so finely from the sky, 
 You only know they cease by suddenly 
 Perceiving the dull shock of emptiness 
 Which shuts them off for ever. Sphered like 
 
 this 
 Her sunbeam bubbled up, and clear unfurled 
 
A CERTAIN LAUGH ] 
 
 Its music in the confines of his world, 
 Oh, moment exquisite of lover's bliss, 
 Eclipsed at last, as all earth's glories are, 
 But christened in his heart of hearts a star. 
 
A FATHER 
 
 I SPEAK not of myself, though I am his 
 
 Wife's brother, and have been assuredly 
 
 Staunchest Achates when that Titan brain 
 
 Stopped work or holiday wheeled round, 
 
 And he could drink with admirable gust 
 
 The glory of rude health and throw wide arms 
 
 To Nature's celebrations. Oh, the joy 
 
 With which he gambolled round his babes or took 
 
 The peasant children to his heart of hearts ; 
 
 Their free school was his life's first passion. Ah ! 
 
 No mother knew her own child's voice as he, 
 
 Who taught each voice of them, taught every one 
 
 With the wise art of Paris which he learned. 
 
 In those bright halcyon days he taught them all 
 
 They ever learned, I think, — from alphabet 
 
 To swimming and folk-ditties ; built their minds, 
 
 Yet was a boy with them in all their pranks ; 
 
 Drew out their mother- wit and excellence, 
 102 
 
A FATHER 103 
 
 Protesting with a smile he learned from them 
 
 All school had ever taught him. Ah ! he held 
 
 Book-learning very cheap, almost in scorn, 
 
 Save the old book of books, the book he named 
 
 The Homer of our Europe : yes, he was 
 
 Father and brother both ; I know it well ; 
 
 Was he not both to me ? Oh, the abandon 
 
 With which he raced the meadow, he and his friend, 
 
 Or moved in the early morning ere the dew 
 
 Had fallen from the petals and the tufts 
 
 Were drenched with incense sweet as July's hay ; 
 
 For he was ever simple as a child. 
 
 And loved, or used to love, such rivalries ; 
 
 And never comrade have I known more leal 
 
 To hunt the bear upon the Caucasus ; 
 
 To shoot the timid strepets as they rose, 
 
 Many and many a league we two have trudged : 
 
 And I have seen the great brow grow more tense 
 
 With brooding over Borodino's field, 
 
 Who weighed Napoleon in the balances 
 
 And found him wanting : I, his man-at-arms. 
 
 Never had ventured where he writes and writes 
 
 In solitary travail for the world 
 
 That is and is to follow : yet most strange, 
 
 Most wonderful it seems to me his wife, 
 
104 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 The darling of his house, dare not surpass 
 
 That jealous threshold, gaze upon the face 
 
 She loves most dearly when most fraught with vision : 
 
 For how she loves him ! Was there ever a scribe 
 
 More skilled to track the clues of rays half lost, 
 
 More patient to combine with prodigal toil 
 
 (Did she not write his master-book seven times?) 
 
 The flashings of this star ; to weave the threads 
 
 Flung loosely off into a wedding garment ? 
 
 Was ever woman more aware to catch 
 
 Her poet's language, howsoever it burst 
 
 Forth from the abyss of silence o'er the page 
 
 With mystery of twilight ? Has she not 
 
 Reflected all as in an angel's mirror ? 
 
 Conned Love's strange hieroglyphic from the first ? 
 
 Who shall now violate the zone which she 
 
 Has made inviolable ? Who dare invade 
 
 Such heavenly secrecy ? Nay, I must laugh, 
 
 Must laugh once more to think how Nature ever 
 
 Adds pertly some exception to the rule, 
 
 Breaks down our dearest fashions with a smile ; 
 
 Must laugh to think how but a little child, 
 
 His eldest born, their first, a crawling girl, 
 
 A tiny piece of prattling innocence, 
 
 A thing of tumbling curls and kisses, — she, 
 
A FATHER 105 
 
 Ay, she it was alone who pushed with ease 
 The mother on one side, leapt o'er the pale, 
 Vanquished this obdurate will whenever the chance 
 Would seal two budding lips upon that door, 
 Importunate for answer. Who shall say 
 How many precious moments have been lost 
 By that sweet plaything babbling at his feet, 
 Or in the fond man's arms, most precious minutes. 
 Which otherwise had blessed a thousand souls. 
 
 But that was long ago, many long years ; 
 
 Things have changed much since then, have sorely 
 
 changed : 
 I will not say he loves his children less, 
 For who would venture that ? — but still his love 
 Stands hardly where it stood : I hear folk mutter 
 The universal brother in the man 
 Has swallowed up the father of his girls ; 
 He is become a holy father now : 
 Well, these are not my words ; yet there's a change : 
 It struck me sharp as daylight when we crossed 
 Calm eyes the other evening in his halls 
 After a long, long absence ; the old past 
 Is gone for ever : I shall never, I know, 
 Hunt with this brother more : the woes of woman 
 
I06 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Have struck him to the marrow ; he has now 
 
 A new, a far-off look, as though he lives 
 
 Somewhat aloof from home. I think sometimes 
 
 My sister turns with fondness to the old ; 
 
 Quick words have even dropped between them now ; 
 
 The new life brings a burden to them both, 
 
 Something that must be borne ; at any rate, 
 
 She will not break her neck on his three rules, 
 
 How much she praises them as laws of Christ ; 
 
 She stands by his possessions, as one may 
 
 Who looks into the future, knows at least 
 
 The laws which rule in Moscow. Thus they sit 
 
 More grave together now, as friends will do 
 
 Who keep old loves despite some difference : 
 
 Only the second daughter clasps with all 
 
 Her maidenhood the iron bands of his 
 
 Monklike austerity. But yesterday 
 
 I glanced at the old study, while his chair 
 
 Stood empty for the nonce, — ah ! well, well now 
 
 Not even a servant enters ; like a priest, 
 
 He makes all pure within the sanctuary 
 
 Ere he begins the duty of the hour : 
 
 Upon the settle stood a pair of shoes 
 
 Worked for his friend the moujik ; as of old, 
 
 A pile of books and portraits choked the table; 
 
A FATHER 107 
 
 Mildly the marble bust of his dear brother 
 Gazed at me, gazing on the room I loved ; 
 Sphinx-like those Schopenhauer eyes, — the print 
 Which ever faces grimly from the wall, — 
 Seemed half to smile through their sardonic stare 
 At the weird changes they have gently watched 
 Flash o'er the bosom of this lover's world. 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 
 
 My orders were to take home letters on 
 
 To Alexandria : there from the blue 
 
 The news o'ertook us like a bolt of thunder, 
 
 Bringing our carrier-pigeon post-haste back 
 
 Once more to Tripoli. I see him now, 
 
 Much as I left him seated in his cabin, 
 
 The right leg propped a little : ay, he suffered 
 
 A good deal latterly from gout attacks ; 
 
 Hoped somewhat thus to ease him as he could 
 
 The rascal's parting shots : that is a point, 
 
 I mean the indisposition, which the court 
 
 Should rake out level : well, at least, dear friend, 
 
 That was how I last saw him ; orders first, 
 
 Direct and quietly, the same old way 
 
 He ever showed us brother officers, — 
 
 The extraordinary skipper : then a word 
 
 Of relaxation, as sometimes his wont, 
 
 Neither just blame or praise, — too grim for that,- 
 io8 
 
EPISTOLA A sum 109 
 
 Yet something of a smile in the ring it gave 
 
 For that rash lucky dog or devil Vane 
 
 Of the Bellerophon, — you know the facts 
 
 From my last letter ; run your cutter's nose 
 
 Full tilt into a harbour's mouth, and miss 
 
 By one hair's breadth a lively foul with some 
 
 Big hulk or other, let alone, perhaps, 
 
 Your own chiefs flagship — that was ever the way 
 
 To this commander's centre : last, of course, 
 
 The nod, the friendly handshake : I wheeled off, 
 
 And he weighed anchor. Thus 'tis obvious 
 
 My knowledge of the entire catastrophe 
 
 Sits much as yours, a passable second-hand ; 
 
 All I can do by way of supplement 
 
 To what you know already, or at least 
 
 Half think you know, as swallowed fresh and clear 
 
 From that great deep of fact redoubtable 
 
 (Our marvellous lake of salt fed by the Jordan) 
 
 The journals tumble on you, is to add, 
 
 Well, a few hints of caution : first of all, 
 
 'Tis clear enough to me (remember, friend, 
 
 The limitations I still emphasize) 
 
 When once your die was cast by these two men 
 
 Who took that signal, — well, let's say for once. 
 
 With something too much, — so it now appears, 
 
no DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 But in that now lurks the whole difference,— 
 
 Of neither this or that nailed home with all 
 
 The shifts of a brave or bravely discreet captain 
 
 Put sudden on the proof, and nought was left 
 
 But to drive through the surf like men and face 
 
 All possible consequence. Ay, ay, — good Heavens ! 
 
 The incredibly brief moment given for pause, 
 
 The terrible conciseness of the affair, 
 
 No less before than after hulls had struck, 
 
 Are just the additions your wise nobodies 
 
 Seem mainly to lose sight of Take, for instance, 
 
 These broken straws of fact a midshipman 
 
 I chanced upon among the handful saved 
 
 Caught and delivered me out of the mass 
 
 Lost with those fearful minutes. What does he 
 
 Hold clearly of the truth from first to last, 
 
 If only you except the original crash 
 
 Which grinded to this creature's marrow-bone, 
 
 Making her tremble as an aspen does 
 
 Before the headlong boulder, — that and then 
 
 The general eddy to and fro, until 
 
 The entire ship's company were duly launched, 
 
 Or launched themselves into the trough of the sea, — 
 
 Why, next to nothing. *' Up I rushed, of course," — 
 
 Much in this way my youngster trolled his yarn, — 
 
EPISTOLA A sum III 
 
 ** From cabin where a minute since I snoozed, 
 To find the other's ram just easing off 
 And letting in Noah's deluge ; men already 
 Were mostly at their stations : on the bridge, 
 Cool as Old Nick, or rather, I should say. 
 Nelson, perhaps, — he always played the chief 
 So handsomely with us slaved little chaps, — 
 Ay, not a crack about him, so it seemed, 
 His staff-commander well to hand, — he gave 
 Orders prompt right and left, — three minutes more. 
 Thanks to my post of vantage, I could see 
 Her slowly heading landward ; then, by Jove, 
 Draggled as any hare shot hard behind, 
 Or wounded bird in water, helplessly 
 Drift round and round, and settle by the bows. 
 With nasty jumps and starts, which grew in size 
 And ominous precision. How it fared 
 With the most of us after that first surprise 
 Flashed silence through the ship and sent each man 
 Quick march to wait for orders, few could tell, 
 I least of all ; it seemed that every one 
 Was smart to lend a hand, as though with a kind 
 Of instinct things were pretty bad, if not, 
 Well, quite so bad as they turned out for some 
 Poor devils ere the break up : as you know, 
 
112 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 But precious little good came of it all ; 
 
 The water held a lead, and knew, by Gad, 
 
 How best to keep it : this I will be sworn, 
 
 Taking one last hard look on what was done 
 
 For man or ship, we fellows never thought 
 
 The chaplain would have turned the trumps he did, 
 
 Flashed us such real sound metal : 'twas through him 
 
 We got the sick off clear ; I'm not so sure 
 
 He was not just the coolest with his keen 
 
 Steady, lads, steady, — cool at the very moment 
 
 When most we wanted it ; ay, when the brute 
 
 Dropped suddenly on knees, as you may say, 
 
 For her mad somersault ere she dived down. 
 
 As for what happened in that skirr and squeeze, 
 
 When with what hint, or nod, or word, God knows, 
 
 Jack saw that he was loosed his last parade 
 
 To scramble for dear life, you might as well 
 
 Take counsel with your dreams : 'tis possible 
 
 A lad or two jumped off before the rest 
 
 From rail, or gun, or port-hole, — if they did, 
 
 Scared rabbits, who shall blame them ? What I hold 
 
 Before me now is our main company 
 
 Standing in line on deck, waiting the word, 
 
 The engineers still working down below ; 
 
 And then, well, half-a-dozen little things 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 113 
 
 That hardly touched when first I saw them pass, 
 They seemed so natural, but none the less 
 Have stuck to me somehow, and which I keep 
 And hold incorrigibly. Oh, they are nothing ; 
 Here half a hand to help some mate up first 
 Ere both leapt clear at last : I watched another 
 Shake off the diver's shell ere he made shift 
 For his own comfort : that Jack tar went down 
 With many a lad, doubtless, brave as himself : 
 One strapping fellow pulled up sudden with 
 His flash of inspiration : that one face. 
 Hair curl or scribbled nonsense, Heaven knows what, — 
 Kissed the thing fresh, — then dived. The last I saw 
 Of our poor chief, ay, at the very last. 
 Ere the damned turtle swung me round herself, — 
 Well, he was leaning forward on the bridge, 
 Holding with one hand tight the rail, as though 
 To save him from the lurch ; the other hand 
 Half shrouded o'er his eyes to keep away 
 What we were living through or soon should live ; 
 Or was his gaze to landward ? Which was it ? 
 And after that,— well, I have heard at least 
 Some one pulled some one, looking the drowned rat, 
 Into the Anson* s pinnace there to dry." 
 So much for facts strained fair as best one could, 
 
 H 
 
1 14 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 And bottled for your palate, if you care 
 
 To taste so light a brewage ; yes, I know 
 
 What you will say, — what I have heard already ; 
 
 Some admiral or other condescends 
 
 To read us the pat lesson of it all, 
 
 Much as I give it you, inditing thus 
 
 From tutelar retirement : — " Oh, of course 
 
 Such things must happen, faults in our good luck, 
 
 Even with the best of captains ; only fools 
 
 Will deem it possible that all is learned 
 
 Which must be learned if we are still to keep, 
 
 In her strange modern bulwarks, steel and iron, 
 
 Old England mistress of her ancient seas, 
 
 Without some hitch or jar occasionally 
 
 From sinister event : and yet, — well, well, 
 
 I cannot still help thinking, in my time. 
 
 When I was posted out there first in rank, 
 
 Another spirit had more elbow-room ; 
 
 How style the difference I have in mind ? 
 
 A sort of give and take, as you may say, 
 
 In abler, heartier fashion. Why, bless me. 
 
 Well I remember now just such a pinch. 
 
 Which, but for this deft hand to needy friends. 
 
 Might have made friends at home stare wild enough. 
 
 We were just starting for the summer cruise ; 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 115 
 
 Some daft lieutenant,— that I think was it,— 
 
 Mistook some signal ; well, the Achilles ran, 
 
 Or looked like running right abeam the bows 
 
 Of Tryon's vessel, doomed to founder there : 
 
 Nothing but exquisite adjustment of two heads, 
 
 A treat for every youngster who looked on, — 
 
 Maybe ourselves no less, — set things to rights ; 
 
 Slowly the pair drew level side by side. 
 
 Kissed as two little children might, at most 
 
 A chance plate sprung, a coat of paint knocked off, 
 
 A handrail smashed, a boat's loose gear rolled up : 
 
 That was how we pushed through our troubles then, 
 
 And trampled smooth our blunders as they rose." — 
 
 I wonder if your laugh chimes here with that 
 
 I volunteered, perhaps too liberally, 
 
 When some one droned this out the other day 
 
 Before our mess, with all the circumstance 
 
 Due to such absolute wisdom ? Ay, bless me, 
 
 'Tis easy now for any fool to meet 
 
 That startling signal with the dexterous stare : 
 
 *' The chief is mad for once, — we'll improvise 
 
 Our wits to right the balance, pipe his tune 
 
 With one slight variation, safe to keep 
 
 Huge dolphins well in bound, and win, of course, 
 
 A world of praise for prudence aptly joined 
 
Ii6 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 To Caesar's calculation." Ah ! my friend, 
 
 First, we have still to prove this admiral 
 
 Was ever just the fumbler many seem 
 
 To argue, proved by this, — his ship went down ; 
 
 Ay, that he took with sudden lapse of brain 
 
 His three and three for eight instead of six, 
 
 Forgot arithmetic and all that marks 
 
 Two eyes above the common ; more than this, 
 
 Far more than this, my friend : what if this man 
 
 Was better at all points than you or I, 
 
 Or any other captain in command 
 
 That day or this, was like perhaps to risk 
 
 The larger stake because he knew he was 
 
 Best qualified to win it back again 
 
 By ready sleight of hand, supreme alertness, 
 
 Ay, even in face of odds ? What if you thought, — 
 
 " Why spoil his tight-rope dancing and bring down 
 
 The wrath of all the gods upon one head ? " 
 
 Well, he looked that to us, — to me at least 
 
 He stays just where he stood : something there was 
 
 About him, call, baptize it what you will, 
 
 You never could so sure prognosticate, 
 
 And never will do now for all your pains : 
 
 Prudent he was, of course, and most exact 
 
 In discipline and method, none more so ; 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 117 
 
 Yet all the while he seemed to force on you 
 The laboured pressure of your martinet, 
 Keeping men under him most cordially 
 Obedient to close traces, you perceived 
 He stood himself to the rule on easy terms, 
 By no means held a captive to the bounds, 
 He pegged so carefully for those who trimmed 
 Their courses to his pennant : brief, there was 
 Something in this man's locker stowed away, 
 A kind of ghost or devil, which you please, 
 Kept under hatches mostly with a will, 
 Yet not so thrust aside but that you seemed 
 To catch a whifF of it in all he did : 
 How else explain that far-off smile, the way 
 He ever had of threshing out his plans 
 To the last grain or mote material, 
 Before you got an inkling from his mouth 
 What move was next to follow ; how adduce 
 Fit argument or reason why it was 
 This air of calm superiority 
 Was just what made you love him, the man born 
 Clearly to be your master ; what is still 
 More pertinent, he dropped us scores of signs 
 We had a man to deal with, no dead log 
 Likely to trip up England when she towered 
 
Ii8 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 In wrath above her quarry. Ah ! thank Heaven, 
 We still have salts among us in whose veins 
 The blood of the stout Saxon courses blue, 
 Boisterous and hale, who, rather than toy out 
 The grand old English game upon the seas 
 Like little boys, who sail their bauble boats 
 Clutching the shore meanwhile, would, damn it all ! 
 Pitch to the waves home orders. He was one : 
 Yes, yes, I hear your tune : " France hugs her ships, 
 Strands on no reefs, sinks with no admirals ; 
 And what of Russia? '* A truce, a truce, my friend, 
 To such comparisons. Who knows, at least, 
 What Russia has to learn or France shall lose 
 Ere both make wholly good the headway gained 
 In these most precious hours of preparation. 
 Flashed on you now for the moment, but no more ; 
 Flashed, luckily for pride, at our worst turn : 
 While all that he has taught, this English skipper. 
 In mastering true science, growing keen 
 Through the least prick of sense to his intention ; 
 Alert enough, — I wave you this apart, — 
 To follow with a good ten knots, nor see 
 One signal flying at his masthead, ay, 
 As though he ran with decks raked smooth still 
 leading, — 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 1 19 
 
 All this, I say, is now as always hidden, 
 
 Shoved out of sight of France or Italy, 
 
 To bide the day of sober reckonings 
 
 When ships waltz round in earnest. Well, ah ! well, — 
 
 Our bearings standing thus, I'll risk the doubt, — 
 
 A sailor's notion, take it for its worth, — 
 
 Whether from first to last this excellent brain 
 
 Was fallen inio such trance, such very strange 
 
 Suspended animation as some still 
 
 Would dearly force upon us : notice, please. 
 
 In coming to conclusions not a trace 
 
 Of relative suspicion crossed me when 
 
 I shook his hand at the last : further, I hear 
 
 His staff-commander would have us believe 
 
 That to his meek demurrer there came back 
 
 Shortly for answer, — ay, this should be so, sir, — 
 
 Your distance, as you say, — may we not add, 
 
 No less persisted in once more, it seems. 
 
 To mighty little purpose : last consider 
 
 The hint we have, — or so it brushed my ear 
 
 From half-a-dozen whispers up and down, — 
 
 Of how this master briskly stepped the bridge 
 
 With that same, — well, with all we just have 
 
 notched, — 
 Say, the whole blessed fleet there right and left, 
 
120 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Staring him with truth's bluntness frank in the face, — 
 
 Why, in his best, — but no, enough of that, 
 
 That flash in the pan from some who ought to know, 
 
 Speaking with half a breath, — no wonder now, 
 
 His future washed behind them : when such men 
 
 Blow steam off thus, in such rare tingling moments, 
 
 Why then comes the smart action. Brief, I hold, — 
 
 A sailor's notion, once more I repeat, — 
 
 'Tis best to clutch this straw, however strange, 
 
 Our man was on his mettle, with the facts 
 
 Sounding within his brain-pan steadily, 
 
 Much as they boomed for others, it may be 
 
 Not wholly toned to the wise apprehension, 
 
 Hardly in the full daylight of his judgment, 
 
 Yet touched with a possible something to be braved 
 
 And driven through with flash of the old star. 
 
 There sits the probable. Beyond the outline 
 
 I press not my ambition. Oh, of course, 
 
 There will be fools, however, prompt enough 
 
 To blurt the query, " What, by Hercules, 
 
 Roused from its lair your priceless stowed-away 
 
 To such uncalled-for hazards ? " Let them blurt : 
 
 Mokes of like colour doubtless will be found 
 
 To bray them a loud answer,— loudest there 
 
 Where men will catch the whisper : let them blare, — 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 121 
 
 Try to wring out the pulse of a big soul 
 
 By rending it to tatters. We will simply 
 
 Content ourselves with this surmise, — for once, 
 
 Once in the sovereign measure of his service 
 
 The lion proved too much for the strong man, 
 
 Who paid for his lost foothold, — as was meet, — 
 
 With the dear life-blood. Yet I think that England 
 
 Has seen the thunder of her own hale heart 
 
 Give tongue from this her captain ; seen, an instant, 
 
 When all her realm was rocked in gentle peace. 
 
 That which is still more worthy of her heart 
 
 Than even the lion's daring, ay, the man 
 
 Of faith and duty, able to endure, 
 
 The man delivered in that company 
 
 Of her lost flagship, when the actual 
 
 And very crisis, stuffed with imminent death. 
 
 Rushed onward at the flow with gaping jaws 
 
 Of merciless destruction : there's a jewel 
 
 Worthy of her to cherish and hold pure 
 
 With loving memories : but, nevertheless. 
 
 We lose him from our sight, a loss for England, 
 
 When she shall look for captains great as many 
 
 An iron battleship : such may be had 
 
 For the mere cost of the building ; he is not : 
 
 Gold cannot bring this sailor back to her ; 
 
122 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Nothing shall find him out : anchored he is 
 Beyond gold's reach and all her silver seas. 
 
 Enough of him, enough. One word or two 
 
 Simply about myself ; picture me now 
 
 Snug in my corner of the Scout : o'erhead 
 
 A stiff breeze blowing from a dirty sky, 
 
 Swilling the upper decks with gusts of rain : 
 
 Here am I coasting half a mile or less 
 
 From the very scene of all I just have told you ; 
 
 Ordered, worse luck, to loiter up and down 
 
 Some three days more searching for tag or sign 
 
 Of man or wreckage ; there out in the distance, 
 
 I hear the moan of it beyond the surf. 
 
 The shore is strewn with froth of spars and iron, 
 
 Fragments from her loose fittings flung, no doubt, 
 
 From that tremendous dive on the rock's face ; 
 
 But nothing yet worth notice we have seen, 
 
 Thank God for His late mercies. As I look 
 
 Straight through my porthole's window, a strange bird, 
 
 No ordinary gull or gannet that, 
 
 Is wheeling in wide circles o'er the spot ; 
 
 Ha ! there she strikes her treasure underneath ; 
 
 Is off, let's hope, the richer ; lucky bird, 
 
 To rob the king of spoilers of some treat : 
 
EPISTOLA A SUIS 123 
 
 What does he care though, with his scornful laugh ^ 
 
 Nature's barbarian, hugging the bones 
 
 Which none shall loose from him, — none, evermore : 
 
 Heavens ! that I now could stand where I stood firm 
 
 A brief month since, far, far enough from this 
 
 Ill-fated threshing-floor, — high up the spurs 
 
 Of the Anti-Lebanon : before me stretched 
 
 The illimitable desert lone and bare, 
 
 Stalked by the columned whirlwind, shutting fast, 
 
 Or rather setting fine its emerald. 
 
 That jewel of oases, lovely queen 
 
 Of Eastern cities, ay, Damascus ; there 
 
 We halted early morning, — ere the day 
 
 Flushed gold across the barriers to this coast, — 
 
 Hailing from Baalbec ; looked upon it all, 
 
 Mountain, and desert, last, the precious isle 
 
 Of green-lit dwellings. Oh, what desolation. 
 
 What ruined grandeur clings to this same Baalbec ; 
 
 One mighty block, a thousand tons and more 
 
 We marked on the quarried mountain, waiting still 
 
 The extraordinary carriage ; who stepped in 
 
 And forced these Hittite lads to break off thus ? 
 
 Answer me that : a downright sort of man 
 
 And difficult was Captain Joshua, 
 
 If, as I gathered, in this lordly fashion 
 
124 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 He rooted up molesters in the rear 
 
 To strengthen his main footing, — ^bold and thorough, 
 
 Just such a leader as our chief, in fact, 
 
 Where Hermon fronts in arms the sandy desert, 
 
 Upon his limestone quarter, that's to say, 
 
 The side which faced the blast and wintry sea, 
 
 And any Russ or Frenchman bearing down 
 
 On the bright strip of island, which he served 
 
 Better than most of us, ay, that he did 
 
 For all his last adventure : well, some time 
 
 We'll run up closer to this expedition. 
 
 Beating it out together as the others, 
 
 Through, ah ! Mycenae and the rest ; but now 
 
 Farewell : in truth I cannot quit me of 
 
 All that has happened since, and, — well of that 
 
 You've heard too much already. By-the-bye, 
 
 I hold the last clear order from his hand 
 
 Which left at least his cabin : there it rests, 
 
 And you shall have a glance at it some day. 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE 
 
 I HAVE a friend, and thus at last he writes : — 
 
 ** Here I am back again, and late at nights 
 
 I see above St. Paul's, — the world you know, — 
 
 The pale moon hang as now three weeks ago, 
 
 Sheltered from the sharp wind beneath some pines, 
 
 Which curled about the very topmost lines 
 
 Of the Arcadian hills I saw her range 
 
 Above the shadows of the rock, and change 
 
 Loose shreds of cloud upon Night's iron blue 
 
 Into pure silver as her face swept through : 
 
 I watched the deep gloom take the dawn's first 
 
 throes, 
 And a big fox brushed near me as I rose. 
 
 ** That was my walk, — my walk of yesterday, — 
 From Argos and Mycenae all the way 
 To the Olympian plain, to where the broad 
 Alphaeus cuts the dark sea's silver cord ; 
 
 X25 
 
126 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Each step a step of glory, and a joy 
 Unfathomable ; a gift none can destroy. 
 
 " The mists of dawn were lifting, and her smiles 
 
 Already touched the foreheads of the isles 
 
 When first we swept into those sacred waters, 
 
 Gazed over Hellas, looked on her fair daughters : 
 
 What thoughts were ours as every name took form, 
 
 However changed and battered by the storm 
 
 Of jarring peoples, foolishness, or crime ; 
 
 All the rough elements your despot Time 
 
 Hurls against earth's fond loves, however dear. 
 
 However they have brought to man good cheer : 
 
 Yes, there stretches Corcyra ; here we come 
 
 In sight, almost in hail, of Actium ; 
 
 That must be Sicyon, that Ithaca ; 
 
 Anon we shall slip by old Megara : 
 
 Beyond there lies Eleusis ; what is this 
 
 But the famed threshing-floor of Salamis ? 
 
 And there — God's mercy ! — safe against the blue, 
 
 What but the eye of Greece and Europe too. 
 
 Immortal Athens ? Surely we might say 
 
 Our Nunc dimittis after such a day. 
 
 Ay, we have trudged the very Peloponnese, 
 
 Carried off as by stealth our golden fleece ; 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHS^AKE 127 
 
 Five naked columns with dishevelled curls 
 
 Mark the place once so famous for its girls 
 
 Your decent folk could barely get at them, 
 
 Now all is safer than Jerusalem : 
 
 And I have supped at Thebes ; was driven over 
 
 Cithseron's back, while the calm night, my lover. 
 
 Seemed to look down upon the enterprise 
 
 With all the wonder in her dancing eyes : 
 
 Under clear stars I drove, — walked back again 
 
 While Phoebus flashed his car above the plain ; 
 
 And now my perfect Sabbath-day is done 
 
 The angry gods have thundered ; Thebes is gone : 
 
 And all the world is asking what the deuce 
 
 Has stirred the lawless violence of Zeus ? 
 
 But Zeus, forsooth, is not the grand Earth-shaker, 
 
 (More than he is the world's chief undertaker) 
 
 That is Poseidon's role. You think it odd 
 
 This England should have chosen him for god ; 
 
 But which god, friend ? The ruler of the seas, 
 
 The wonder of the darling songs of Greece, 
 
 Or the immortal shaker of the shops 
 
 Theban and, — ah 1 but " (thus the quaint pen 
 
 drops) 
 " Who cares to listen to another's joy. 
 Save possibly myself, who from a boy 
 
128 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Ever loved traveller's tales." How like my friend 
 To toss you his with only half an end. 
 
 So runs the letter : here is Whitsunday : 
 
 Therefore this morning while folk marched to pray 
 
 In church or chapel, doubtless with a will, — 
 
 (John Wesley was born here ; his voice works still), — 
 
 I wandered with my friend's tale up the cliff 
 
 Which overlooks the bay, to snatch a whifF 
 
 Out of another world ; I like to be 
 
 Somewhat above the tumbling of the sea ; 
 
 Where the wave sounds and yet you stand alone, 
 
 Are not half dazed by the persistent moan ; 
 
 Rather from your high station well apart 
 
 Can look the better into the wild heart 
 
 Which quivers there below you on the turf, 
 
 And breaks and breaks for ever into surf : 
 
 The field was very sweet with fresh young clover, 
 
 And underneath the incumbent sapphire, over 
 
 Soft sand and shingle waters shimmered clear 
 
 As any gleaming wave of Riviere ; 
 
 Clear as the foam whence Aphrodite rose 
 
 To gladden Greece and build up Helen's woes ; 
 
 All things around, sweet earth and trembling brine, 
 
 No less than the great air, throbbed with the shine 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTH^AKE 129 
 
 So fresh and beautiful beneath that sun, 
 
 You might have dreamed the world had just begun ; 
 
 You might have said, " Man lives here to enjoy : 
 
 As for his art, it is a helpless toy : 
 
 For when rich Nature gives us all she hath, 
 
 He harvests but the merest aftermath." 
 
 Within this little hamlet by the sea 
 Two persons mainly link themselves to me, 
 Or, truer said perhaps, I lean their way, 
 Though why I do I cannot really say : 
 First of the pair and eldest, fisherfolk 
 Who loiter by the pier and idly smoke 
 Will introduce as artist of the town, — 
 A man who once stepped closer to renown 
 Than he does here, — a genuine fallen star ; 
 So it is whispered at the Anchor's bar, — 
 A spot our broken-down often frequents, — 
 Somewhat too oft, 'tis said ; at all events, 
 If never quite an R, A. with full rights, 
 He used to flare it with your lesser lights 
 In London's veritable atmosphere. 
 Until some fate or other drove him here. 
 And blew, or nearly blew, his candle out. 
 However that may be, he flits about 
 
I30 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Like an uneasy ghost, making small sketches, 
 
 Thankful indeed if one of them just fetches 
 
 Enough to square the losses of a day : 
 
 All sprout up somehow, — well, as you may say, 
 
 From hand to mouth, the same haphazard way, — 
 
 A pencil's scrawl, colour's most hasty flash. 
 
 To bring in the week's rent or Monday's hash. 
 
 A hungry sort of look he pins on you 
 
 From weak and timid eyes of washed-out blue ; 
 
 His brow has ribbed itself like an oak log ; 
 
 He looks for all the world just like a dog 
 
 Which has so oft been sent a-cold and skipping, 
 
 He lives in constant dread of some fresh whipping ; 
 
 And yet you see (here is the touch which clings) 
 
 He tries to put a decent face on things ; 
 
 Wears a trim sailor's cap above that suit 
 
 Of worn-out tweed which covers the starved root ; 
 
 Gently returns the friendly nod you wave 
 
 With a wan sort of smile which leaves you grave : 
 
 My friend the Captain whipped him on to me. 
 
 Much as your useless wight is shipped to sea : 
 
 «* Well, here's my card ; I have done all I can, — 
 
 Tackle our latest visitor, my man ; 
 
 I mean the eccentric stranger, who, like you. 
 
 Though minus brushes, stares so at the view, — 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHS^UAKE 131 
 
 Has nothing else, apparently, to do." 
 
 So up the fellow comes, he and his wares, 
 
 Bows meekly, stammers out his daily prayers : 
 
 Wherewith for answer : "Sir, I shall rejoice 
 
 To make my visit some day, take my choice, 
 
 Down there in your snug, — ay, your studio, — 
 
 The precious sanctum, where, as we all know ; " — 
 
 But what is this ? — pale eyes begin to drop ; 
 
 He owns one room above a blacksmith's shop ; 
 
 So, not to trespass on his bedroom candle, 
 
 I seize the first he offers me to handle ; 
 
 He takes my silver ; I remark the while 
 
 An evanescent gleam, a passing smile 
 
 Upon the distant cliff: Oh, yes, he knows 
 
 That headland well : then both the visit close 
 
 With a few words upon the unusual rain : 
 
 Out the man shuffles : I admire again 
 
 My masterpiece, — with something of a sigh : 
 
 Yes, there it is ; flagrant against the sky 
 
 Your Devil's Rock, — painted. — I know not why, — 
 
 A rich and ruddy brown ; — well, all I mean 
 
 To say is, that the rocks as they are seen 
 
 Are chalk, and white as only chalk can be ; 
 
 But then the clouds behind are grey, you see ; 
 
 If heaven is white, your earth must stand up brown ; 
 
132 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 You surely would not have them both agree : 
 
 Besides, it is the work of art, friends say, 
 
 To contradict the eyes of every day : 
 
 My ignorant wife stares at it with a frown ; 
 
 " We cannot take such daubs, John, back to town.' 
 
 There is another man in this snug place 
 
 I meet occasionally ; a most strange face : 
 
 A strapping fellow though. When quite a lad 
 
 One of his people frightened him so bad 
 
 The scare induced a chronic state of fits, 
 
 And still the lurking demon near him sits : 
 
 He hails from some poor village in the north, 
 
 Whence twenty years ago stout youth set forth 
 
 To build a future in some western State, — 
 
 Bought a ranch farm, I think, he and a mate. 
 
 Alas ! he took with him life's handicap ; 
 
 I know not what it was, — the chance mishap, — 
 
 A horse was lost, one day he spoiled the pot ; 
 
 At any rate the partner swore he'd got 
 
 A wretched bargain ; so forthwith he comes 
 
 Back once again to England, twiddling thumbs, — 
 
 His future gone, — himself a good deal worse 
 
 For wear and tear, — not a half cent in purse : 
 
 Since then he's put his hand to several things. 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHSIUAKE 133 
 
 But tried still more to grass the brute who flings 
 
 Him suddenly a cripple on his back, 
 
 With every nerve and muscle on the rack. 
 
 But nothing comes of it ; some one renowned 
 
 Sends him at last the cure to make him sound ; 
 
 Smoke is eschewed, we'll say, six hungry weeks ; 
 
 The Anchor is forgotten ; his pale cheeks 
 
 Flush with apparent victory over odds ; 
 
 He writes the grateful letter, thanks the gods : 
 
 Ah I but it is the merest gleam he gets ; 
 
 He lives a hermit's life, fool of long debts 
 
 To a remorseless creditor, who plays 
 
 With him much as a spider from his maze 
 
 Toys with a fly : the leech accepts the cheque ; 
 
 Before his patient loom^s once more, — the wreck ! 
 
 He lives alone, poor wight, for who shall come 
 
 And make that little room of his a home ? 
 
 You would not have his sisters take their chance 
 
 Of sharing such a sad inheritance ; 
 
 Besides, the board of two or three is rather 
 
 An outlay when all lean upon their father. 
 
 As for that worthy man, the son, I fear, 
 
 Never got out of him very much cheer. 
 
 Well, well ! such sons are wild — strange any way : 
 
 I took a walk with him the other day. 
 
134 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 Started as best I could on that and this, 
 
 Well, not a thing I touched but seemed to miss ; 
 
 Nothing took fire or roused his speech in turn : 
 
 Without precisely seeming me to spurn, 
 
 He answered much as your crack witness does 
 
 Who gives the court quite simply half he knows ; 
 
 * * 'Tis very kind, this zeal to clear my case. 
 
 Only such energy seems out of place." 
 
 And after all, life has its closer ties ; 
 
 Nature respects nobody who defies 
 
 Her jurisdiction : Pope is born dead lame ; 
 
 Schumann dies mad ; at least you will not blame 
 
 Some one I know out here, who must have mused 
 
 Much in the following way ere he refused, — 
 
 Well, you will see. " What a sad tale George told 
 
 My aunt the other day ; she is too old 
 
 And shaky for such things. What was it, now ? 
 
 How blunt my memory begins to grow ; 
 
 About a loving daughter and a father, — 
 
 The father was quite blind, I think, or rather 
 
 Became so, — well, she did as daughters should, 
 
 Nursed him with care, led him from that dark wood — 
 
 A father, too, who once had kicked her lover ; 
 
 Spare youth, of course, had not sufficient cover 
 
 For such a match, but afterwards grew fine. 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHS^UAKE 135 
 
 And even took the gruff old father in ; 
 
 Made him a home. The father found his eyes : 
 
 As for the daughter, this was her surprise — 
 
 Or shall we dare to say the resurrection 
 
 Of her most sweet, invincible affection, — 
 
 Her little son, her first, was born, — alas ! 
 
 Just what her father had become and was 
 
 But for this tending. What is worst of all, 
 
 Such things do veritably happen, fall 
 
 On rare occasions : it would neve|: do 
 
 If Rachel's child turned all at once dark-blue ; 
 
 Therefore, it seems, we now must draw the line, — 
 
 Bridges, I fear, must come no more to dine ; 
 
 Which is a pity now ; he likes the way 
 
 She sings her songs ; she likes to sing and play 
 
 To any one who listens as he does ; 
 
 But that is all the worse for my repose : 
 
 I often wonder who it is who sits 
 
 Providing Earth with Earth's due share of fits." 
 
 So Bridges keeps away, and solitude 
 Becomes still more and more his daily food. 
 He is the second of my singular pair, 
 Who possibly have never said a prayer ; 
 At any rate both leave well in the lurch 
 
136 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 The imposing chapel here and pretty church : 
 I wonder what this morning both have done 
 While I have basked beneath a glorious sun. 
 
 To-day is Whitsunday ; as I have said 
 Two or three times, it runs so in the head, 
 Doubtless for some good reason ; and the view 
 This morning shone out pure, christened anew ; 
 There up above no least soft foam-flake lay 
 To tarnish for a moment the blue way ; 
 Victoriously the imperial orb rose up 
 And filled with his oblations God's great cup : 
 This afternoon the storm clouds rushed abreast 
 Out of their mighty haven down the west, 
 In massed battalions they surged up and rolled 
 Their mutiny against the Light's strong hold ; 
 As though with one intent to kill and slay 
 The god who made them servants of the Day — 
 The god who drew their rabble from the Night, 
 To worship him with glory and the might 
 Of matchless armouries, ten thousand plumes, — 
 Soldiers of him who all the earth illumes. 
 
 Out of this peaceful ville, whose castle fills 
 The sudden fracture in these hog-backed hills. 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHS^AKE 137 
 
 (Oh, gallant lady, who so long defended 
 
 The ancient fastness cruel Time hath rended, — 
 
 Oh, the brave tale which all its death doth crown !) 
 
 I walked with one I love over the down 
 
 Which heaves its billow right into the sea ; 
 
 And all that walk, there to the north of me, 
 
 The legions of the storm deployed their force 
 
 Triumphant o'er the scattered plain's concourse : 
 
 And underneath the tempest of their wheels 
 
 The darkness lowered in tremendous seals : 
 
 Oft, too, as the fierce army burst across 
 
 With many a shattered squadron, many a loss, 
 
 The captains of the host closed up dense lines, — 
 
 A giant regiment, — whose swart ensigns 
 
 Were hurried on and on tumultuously 
 
 O'er forest, moorland, tilth, and wine-dark sea ; 
 
 And all at once from the charged undulation 
 
 The artillery burst forth, an inundation 
 
 Which married heaven and earth, which kissed and 
 
 kissed 
 Till everything beyond was lost in mist ; 
 Out of which fearful onset the troop passed 
 Spoiled of its strength, a broken wraith, aghast, 
 Which died in agonies upon the field 
 Of terrible battle, even while it reeled 
 
138 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 In overthrow. High on the bridge of war, 
 
 That waving down, we stood, and there I saw 
 
 The sweetest, fairest sight of all yet seen 
 
 To-day, fair though in truth the morn has been ; 
 
 There I beheld it looking o'er the sea 
 
 To where that southern island suddenly 
 
 Breaks from the blue with its soft belt of white, 
 
 The island where he lived, glad in his might, 
 
 Who loved this England, loved yet more his 
 
 friend, — 
 May England's love of him his loves defend ; 
 And this is the strange sight which came to me 
 Over the shuddering o'er-shadowed sea : 
 First, a huge cloud, with mighty waterspout 
 Cast, as it were, from heaven in awful rout, 
 Struck the sea's face in a tremendous fall 
 Of sheeted rain : therewith upon that wall, 
 Flashed through some secret window of the tent, 
 Which hid from earth heaven's spacious firma- 
 ment, 
 The glory which proceeds out of the blue, 
 Smote violently the rain's mass through and 
 
 through, 
 With all the colours which are seen to grow, 
 Melting each other, on the Iris bow ; 
 
HELLAS AFTER THE EARTHS^UAKE 139 
 
 No silken veil of Persia or of Ind 
 
 Ever with greater subtlety combined 
 
 All that is rich and tender, soft and fair, * 
 
 In heavenly colour, than God's curtain there 
 
 Outspread above the sea, against the dark ; 
 
 No trace I saw of the consummate arc, 
 
 Rather that one great cloud, as it fell, bare, 
 
 Thick with its watery bulwarks and four-square, 
 
 Opened, swift as a troubled bird its wings. 
 
 To take the marvellous transfigurings 
 
 Heaven's light affirms ; grew gentle e'en as Heaven 
 
 When the last blessing of the sun is given 
 
 E'er he is gone ; with endless such degrees 
 
 Of shade and delicate transparencies, 
 
 The downpour softened ; through which crown of 
 
 light 
 The crested billows and the belt of white 
 Shone and then vanished : never shall I forget 
 How that sea glimmered in pure violet. 
 
 Sunshine and storm, the sea, the glow, the shore, 
 That isle the poet loved — what symbol more 
 Was needed to uplift a heart and stay 
 The dream of Hellas here on such a day. 
 Unless it be the Night above them all. 
 
140 DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES 
 
 With open arms and dazzling coronal ? 
 Oh, friend, who write from a full heart and close 
 Your writing with the thought — " Who loves or knows 
 A brother's joy ? " Ask rather — " Who can tell 
 A brother's sorrow ? " And yet Love knows well. 
 
 Printed by BaLLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. 
 Edinburgh and London