.s^' CO ^n) cz CO ^UIBRARYOr. ^I-IIBRAF ^omyi^"^ \oi\m P3 = CALIFO% ^OFCAlIf iV^i'^^ ^^^AHVHai ER% ,^10SANC ^01^ %a3AINf 1>)l 3 ,^. ^mm. V ,\1C dill', T n<- ^ < ^<!/ojnv] AOFCAdf Df ^lOSANC ^\^M'N!VFRS//j <2> o I •S ?■ '^ 1 I k f;. 1 'n? # ^ <^ .oc \ <: ■oc ji iV iTirif /rr.V*„. i nr > i'u~rt' »^i £r :5, 2? ':^ ? c;' %. ^' % c<' A' '/!' ,>;v V/j^dMiNiVJWV' ^1 \7>;- vTv' & -S '^•_^ Cxz > ?• " "^ > - •31 ■-. (-^ "Z^ ,u- \^- ,^^' AV^ -^ v: ^<?Aavaaii# % < y. ^lOSANCElf; .■^!- ■>- pUoVr^ r IN CORNWALL AND ACROSS THE SEA. By the Same Author. FMTHJOF AND INGEBJORG and other Poems, by an Australian Colonist. London : C. Kegan Paul & Co. 1882. AUSTRALIAN LYRICS. Griffith & Farran, St Paul's Churchyard, E.G. George Robertson, Melbourne, Sydney, and Adelaide. 1883. A POETRY OF EXILES. Griffith & Farran, St Paul's Churchyard, E.C. C. E. Fuller & Co., Sydney. 1884. A SUMMER CHRISTMAS. Griffith, Farran, Okeden & Welsh, West Corner St Paul's Churchyard, London. All these Books may be procured in Atiierica from Messrs E. P. BUTTON & CO.. 31 WEST 23RD STREET, NEW YORK ; and in Australia _frotn Messrs GEORGE ROBERTSON & CO. (Limited), MELBOURNE, SYDNEY, ADELAIDE, BRISBANE, &AUCKLAND, For ilie Opinions of the Press see at the end o/the volume. IN CORNWALL AND ACROSS THE SEA WITH POEMS WRITTEN IN DEVONSHIRE ETC. KY DOUGLAS B. W. SLADEN AN AUSTRALIAN COLONIST LATE SCHOLAR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD ; B.A. OXFORD ; I). A. AND LL.B. MELBOURNE AUTHOR OF "FUITHJOF AND INGEBJORG;" " AUSTRALIAN LYRICS;" " A POETRY OF EXILES ; " AND "a summer CHRISTMAS" LONDON GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & W£LSH (SUCCESSORS TO NEWBRRY AND HARRIS) WEST CORNER ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD E. P. DUTTON & CO., NEW YORK 1885 The rights of translation and reproduction are reserved. TO THE READER. Although, owing to my absence in the Antipodes, " A Poetry of Exiles" and "A Summer Christmas " appeared in England so lately as last July and last October respectively, they were completed not much less than two years ago. This volume collects the fugitive pieces written during the interval. The poems entitled " Across the Sea " were written in or of my adopted country — Australia, and my interesting " voyage home,"' as all Australians patriotically call it, by way of the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. Sonnets 6-19 take the Reader from Ceylon to Plymouth, and were written in sight of the places which they describe. These and the other descriptive sonnets in the volume claim to be photographs vi To the Reader. rather than artistic pictures — the function of a photo- graph being, I take it, to reproduce " Nature's breadth, yet truth of detail." My endeavour has been to bring the scenes graphi- cally before the Reader. The Poems entitled '' In Cornwall " are the fruit of holidays last autumn spent in that lovely, romantic and unique county. The remainder, with few exceptions, were composed while summering near Bideford or wintering at Torquay. Those few were composed in London or at Oxford. In the schemes of my " Ballades " I have followed Mr Andrew Lang and Mr Austin Dobson, to whom I desire here to tender my acknowledgments and thanks. DOUGLAS BROOKE WHEELTON SLADEN. Cherwell Lodge, Oxford. May, 1S85. TO THE COUNTESS OF PORTSMOUTH, IN MEMORY OF PLEASANT HOURS AT EGGESFORD, THIS BOOK IS, WITH HER PERMISSION, AT EGGESFORD, Easter 1885. Outside the Hall the Primrose clusters wild, Unhid wild Violets rear their lowly heads — Each wanton hand that plucks and foot that treads By the broad shadow of the Hall exiled. Outside the Hall the Cottar's wife and child Can sleep as safely in their lowly beds, By the kind Presence, from the Hall which spreads, From want and trampling force kept undefiled. Inside the Hall the Spirit, which protects, The humble folk and flowers at the gate. Pours forth a primrose-violet hue of home, — Mixed bright and modest,— though it ne'er neglects The higher living meet for high estate, The duties which with lofty lineage come. INDEX. PART I.— IN CORNWALL. I. Alice of the Lea . Page 3 2. The Bells of Forrabury 15 3. St Ives, Cornwall . 26 4. The Mermaid of /^ennor . 29 5. The Captive River 33 6. Sir Tristram at Tintagel . 38 Cornish Sonnets. 7. Cornwall 51 Sonnets of the Cornish Moors. 8. On the Cornish Moors 9. Castle Chun . . . . 10. Rialobran, the Son of Cunoval 53 55 58 Sonnets of Mounts Bay. 11. Penzance . 12. Mounts Bay 59 60 Index. n- Marazion, September 14, 1884 . Page 61 14. St Michael's Mount, September 25, 1884 62 15- St Michael's Mount at Sunset . 66 16. St Michael's Mount by Moonlight . 69 17- To a Young Australian Lady • 70 Sonnets of the Land's End. 18. The Land's End . • 71 19. Sennen .... . 73 20. Vellandreath, Whitesand Bay • •' 76 Sonnets of the Lizard. 21. To the Lizard 77 Sonnets of Arturian Cornwall. 22. Tintagel ...... 80 , 23. Camelford [" Camelot " and " Slaughter-Bridge "] 84 Miscellaneous Poems written in Cornwall. 24. Sir Humphrey Davy's Seat, Gulval Cam 25. To E. M. S., after a Tour in Cornwall 26. Marguerites 27. Behind the Scenes . ' . 28. The Cistercians 29. The Harvest 86 87 88 91 94 100 Index. XI 30. Sylvia .... 31. " Corn and Acorn " 32. The Legend of the Lily and the Rose Page 102 103 106 PART IL— ACROSS THE SEA. I. Melbourne, January 1880. [On Board the S.S. Lusitania.'X . . . . . Ill 2. In Memoriam — Sir Charles Sladen, K.C.M.G. . 114 3. Adam Gordon's Tomb 116 4. Melbourne, July 1884 118 5. The South-Sea Voyager 119 6. The Tropics 125 7. Guardafui 127 8, Aden 128 9. At Suez, May 1884 129 10. The Desert 130 II. The Suez Canal . 131 12. Fiancee 132 13. Malta 133 14. Carthage . 135 15. Gibraltar . 136 16. Tarifa 137 17. Trafalgar . 138 18. Upon the S.S. Ballaarat, off Ushant 139 19. At Plymouth 140 xu hidex. 20. Ichabod .... 21. Two Years Old To-day 22. An Old Romance 23. The Valse 24. The Gentleman-Drover's Good-bye 25. The Queen of Hearts 25. The Sigh of the Shouter . 26. To G. E. Morrison, Esq. — An Explorer of New Guinea 28. At Windsor, New South Wales, in Winter 29. Cooper of Tumut. — A Hero 30. A Ballad of Wattle- Blossom 31. Light and Shade 32. Themistocles to the Peace Party at Athens '^'i,. Wordsworth's Two Voices 34. Poets .... 35. Three Graces 36. B.A 37. The Barbed Arrow Page 141 144 147 149 152 156 157 160 162 169 172 174 175 176 177 178 I So PART HI.— POEMS WRITTEN IN LONDON. 1. The Exile's Return .... 2. The Poet ...... 3. Mammon and Poesy. — Dedicated to Robert Browninsj, D.C.L. . 1S5 187 191 Index. Xlll PART IV.— WRITTEN IN DEVONSHIRE, CHIEFLY AT TORQUAY. I. A Ballad of Pleasure . . . . Page 203 2. A Ballad of Pain . . . . 205 3. A Ballad of a Graveyard . . . . 208 4. Maidenhood— A Serenade 211 5. Under the Mistletoe 213 6. King Charlie .... 216 7. To a Lady on her Twenty-second Birthday 220 8. A Tale of Two Colleges . 226 9. Sympathy .... 228 10. Seasons ..... 230 1 1 . The Two Spirits .... 232 12. The Hour of Prayer 234 13. A Legend of the Sabbath 236 14. The Lost Poem .... 238 Patriotic Pokms. 15. A Letter from Gordon 16. Praying for Gordon 17. Gordon is Dead . I S . " Advance Aust ral ia " 19. Waiting for War 20. Gordon of Khartoum 243 245 247 250 254 257 XIV Index. 21. To our Children . . . . . 22. England and Athens . . . . 23. To England on the verge of War with Russia 24. Heroum Filii. — Dedicated to the "Scots Greys" Page 258 259 262 263 Miscellaneous Sonnets. 25. Pericles ..... 265 26. Margaret of Scotland 266 27. Platonic Love .... 267 28. Wife-Love .... 270 29. Infancy ..... 272 30. On a Dead Infant 273 31. "Bob" ..... 274 32. Too Late .... 275 33. Cathedrals .... 276 34. Exeter Cathedral 279 35. Cockington Lanes 280 36. A Walk in Spring— From Torquay to Marldon . 281 37. Devonshire . . . . . 282 38. Bowood, near Bideford . . . . 283 39. Tor Steps — A British Bridge near Exmoor 285 40. Herb-Robert . . . . . 286 41. The Beech Tree . . . . , 287 42. The Sonnet's Scanty Plot 288 43. Oxford the Grand Undoer 2S9 Index. XV Addenda. 44. The Dedication of "A Summer Christmas " 45. The Starry Sisters 46. Forster's " Midas " 47. To Sir Samuel Wilson 48. To J. Henniker Heaton, Esq. 49. Primrose Day 50. War Page I!hristmas " 295 298 299 300 301 . • 302 304 PART I. IN CORNWALL. 4V ALICE OF THE LEA. (Founded upon a Legend Related by the Rev. R. S. Hawker.) In the castle of the Grenvilles Beside the Cornish sea, There was to be a wassail And dance and revelrie, And who should be the fairest But Alice of the Lea? With eyes as blue as heaven When summer days are bright, And like " the summer waters When the sea is soft with light," But tresses like the raven. On murk December night. In Co7'uwall. As graceful as the ash-tree Down in her native west, As stately as Tintagel, With castle-cinctured crest, In all the bounds of Cornwall, Of all the maids the best. The daring knights of Devon And squires of Cornish strand, And lords from o'er the Severn Sea Came courting for her hand. But she loved the lordly Grenvilles Alone of all the land. And who of all the Grenvilles The maiden's heart should move ? Sir Bevil, the king's captain. Who with the Roundheads strove, Who battled like a hero And died as heroes love. Alice of the Lea. But Bevil, the king's captain, He thought not of the maid, Who all her tender girlhood And stately beauty laid Before him, in rich sacrifice, And little heed he paid. In the castle of the Grenvilles Beside the Cornish Sea, They gathered for a wassail And dance and revelrie. And who should be the fairest But Alice of the Lea ? But what availed it Alice Though queen of all were she If the proud heart of the Grenville Should still unaltered be — The peerless Lady Alice Lady Alice of the Lea ? /;/ Co7'nzuall. " O mother and my maidens, My velvet to me bring, My gown of the black velvet — Fit fabric for a king ; And from my jewel-casket Give out the pixies' ring — " The ring won from the pixies By a wise wife of the Lea — The mightiest in magic Of all the West-countree ? To give the love of her true love Whoever he might be." But, because the ring was given Against the pixies' will, It never won a lover Without a dower of ill, And whenever lady wore it There was thunder in the hill. Alice of the Lea. " O Alice, daughter Alice, Wear not that ring to-night, For whoso wears that jewel Defies the pixies' might, And to-night the pixies are abroad From dusk to dawn of light. " O Alice, daughter Alice, I pray thee set it by ; When thou art in thy velvet, No queen with thee may vie For stately grace and lovely face And glamour of the eye. " O Alice, daughter Alice, The ladies of the Lea Have jewels of their own enow Without the pixies' fee ; I prayed thee then, I pray thee now, To let that jewel be. 8 In Cornwall. " O Alice, daughter Alice, I would see thee fairly wed, And comely children by thee Before that I am dead. By thine own royal beauty Not by the pixies sped." But the lovely lady Alice, The lady of the I.ea, Answered her weeping mother, Proudly and scornfully, " I will wear the ring and win his love Whatever knight it be." Then did she on her velvet (Fit fabric for a king). And on her slender finger She drew the pixies' ring, And then looked on her beauty In the mirror glorying. Alice of the Lea. " O Alice, daughter Alice, There is thunder in the hill, And I feel a brooding boding^ In mine inmost soul, of ill ; I pray thee, daughter mine, to pray. If wear this ring thou will. " And I pray to Him in heaven That thou mayest win the love Of him, whose heart thou settest Thy mother's prayers above, And pray thou win not harm, like all Who pixies' power would prove." She gazed into the mirror Upon her loveliness, And on the flashing jewel And her rich velvet dress. And felt a glow of conscious pride Through her whole being press. lo In Coiniwall. And she gazed into the mirror Upon her glorious eyes, And she muttered, " Pray, or pray not, Not Sir Bevil can despise The glitter and the glamour Which all my lovers prize. " I will not pray, my mother, For surely he must yield To mine own beauty had I No pixies' ring to wield ; Nor care I for the pixies aught, In hall or in the field. " I will not pray, my mother ; There's little done by pray'r But may be done by woman's face Or man's right arm, or care ; The pixies I defy to do Whatever they may dare. Alice of the Lea. 1 1 Forthwith there shone a glare of light Which dazzled all the place, But when the glare had vanished None saw the maiden's face, Although they scoured the country side For twelve long hours' space, And in the Grenvilles' castle Beside the Cornish Sea There was a gloom of sorrow, For the fairest, where was she. The queen of all who graced each ball, The lady of the Lea ? But when the news was brought them They hasted, one and all, Bedizened in the splendour Done on them for the ball. To scour the manor of the Lea And search the ancient hall, — 12 In Cornwall. The daring knights of Devon And squires of Cornish strand, And lords from o'er the Severn Sea Who sought the maiden's hand. And Bevil whom the maiden loved Alone of all the land. But never spied the maiden Even a moment's space, And they sorrowed, some for years. O'er the beauty of her face, And Bevil for her evil hap, But no whit for her grace \ Though he, alone, of all men The maiden's heart might move, But in a score of battles Against the Roundheads strove. And bore him like a hero, And died as heroes love. Alice of the Lea. 13 Only the pixies' jewel Beneath the earth was found, Laid lightly near the surface Of a mole's new-built mound — The first of all the molehills Cast up on Cornish ground. And the simple country people Said that the little mole, With her fur like rich black velvet And her eye with hidden hole. Was the lost and scornful maiden Whom the angry pixies stole, With fur of rich black velvet, Like the robe which she had worn, And the eyes she was so proud of That prayer she should scorn, As a judgment for vain-glory. Out of their sockets torn. 14 III Coi'iiwall. And they say that at the seasons When pixies feast and jest, She regains her shape and beauty And is their honoured guest, As honest folks have witnessed In the borders of the West. tr-w I The Bells of Forrabtiry. 1 5 THF BELLS OF FORRABURY. (Founded upon a Legend related by the Rev. R. S. Hawker.) The Lord of Bottreaux Castle, Was of all men haughtiest, He could not brook the waft of bells Borne on the breeze's breast From the church-tower of Tintagel When the wind blew from the west. And he charged a famous founder, Who lived in London town, To cast a peal of bells to be A glory and renown To the tower of Forrabury Upon the windy down. 1 6 In Cornwall. The founder in his foundry, Great bells he founded three The first was for St Michael named, For merciful is he To shipwrecked folk and strangers Upon the land or sea; The second was named after The sons of Zebedee, Because that they were fishermen In far off Galilee ; And the third for Mother Mary And the infant at her knee. The bells were wrought and graven And carried to be blest, With holy water, hand and voice By bishop, choir and priest. Then put upon the vessel To bear into the west. The Bells of Forrahiry. The west wind blew them fairly From London to the sea : The east wind sped the good ship on Till past the land was she : And then the west wind took them And bore them merrily, Until they cast their anchor Right under Willapark, Not daring, till the tide was in And dawn had chased the dark, To thread the tortuous harbour With their rich-laden bark. The Vespers of Tintagel Once more resounded clear ; But filled they not the Bottreaux folk With envy now but cheer, For the bells had come to Bottreaux After so many a year. B 1 8 In Cornwall. The Vespers of Tintagel Were wafted to the sea ; The Pilot crossed himself and dropped Down on his bended knee, And for safe voyage and speedy His thanksgiving breathed he. " What dost thou, Master Pilot, Upon thy bended knee ? What words are those thou mutterest, I prythee, tell to me?" " I am praising Mother Mary For her mercies on the sea." " Fie on thee, Master Pilot, Are we not good enow, On summer-seas as soft as these To bring to port our bow ? Thy captain and his seamen. Not saints, should have thy vow. The Bells of Forrabury. 1 9 " Fie on thee, Master Pilot !" And a dread oath he swore, That he could save his ship alone Though all the winds did roar And all the saints in heaven Should keep him from the shore. The pilot bowed him meekly And turned to heaven once more, That God the captain might forgive For the dread oath he swore, And no ill hap might take them Ere they should reach the shore. When the red sunset gilded The castle of Bottreaux, The sea was like a little lake, Where never ripples flow, By wooded banks veiled closely From all the winds that blow : 20 In Cornwall. When rose the moon, the waters Shone like a mirror-glass, Not clear but lined with silver sheen, Where all things that may pass Cast shadows on its surface Like breath on polished brass. The waters lapped as gently Upon the headland's crags As a deep sluggish-river tide. Wherein the reedy flags Move little, as the watchful pike Who in their arbo urs lags, ^v-^^i i ^<»''^^ The torch-fire in the cresset Rose straight, a shaft of flame. Steady as light of well-trimmed wick When shielded by a frame Of graven glass pourtraying r c^JJ. CV^ Some deed of ancient fame. \ ^- The Bells of Forrabury. 2 i "Go sleep thee, whining pilot," The scornful captain said, " Thou needst no crossings, bended knees Or beads to save thy head : Thou art as safe on shipboard To-night as in thy bed." '' I will not sleep, Sir Captain, I will not sleep to-night : We shall be safe by grace of heaven, When morning brings the light : Who stays his hand in battle, Not often wins the fight." But went that scornful captain And laid him down to sleep, As careless in his fragile bark Upon the vengeful deep. As the lord of Bottreaux Castle In his mighty feudal keep. 2 2 In Corjiwall. But while the scornful captain And all his seamen slept, A great wave, in mid-ocean born, Of storm or earthquake, swept And on the fated vessel Like a huge serpent leapt. And, fettered with her anchors. The gallant little bark Was strangled in the serpent's folds, Right under Willapark, In the hour before the morning, The hour of all most dark. But the prayerful pilot standing At his post upon the deck. Was borne in safety to the land Upon the monster's neck. While the captain and the seamen Were strangled in the wreck. The Bells of Forrabiiry. 23 And rising in the morning, The vassals of Bottreaux Looked for the ship which bore their bells, But saw a sight of woe, The shipwrecked pilot wailing The stout ship whelmed below. " Tell us, thou mournful seaman, What mournest thou?" they said, " Or hast thou lost thy boat or nets ? Or is some comrade dead ? Or tell us art thou shipwrecked And all thy substance sped ? " Then spoke the pilot wailing, " Shipwrecked I am," he said, " But mourn not only boat or net, Or trusty comrade dead ; For the bells of Bottreaux church-tower Swing on the ocean's bed. 24 lit Co7mivall. Long centuries are over Since the good ship went down, With Forrabury's bells on board, In sight of Bottreaux town, Yet the "silent tower of Bottreaux " No chime hath ever known. But the bells of Forrabury Give forth a muffled knell. From their belfry in the sunken ship, The danger to foretell, When from the far Atlantic There strides a sudden swell. And the fishers of the haven. Though smooth as glass the sea, And though the heavens overheard From rack or cloud are free, Though breeze enough there is not A signal flag to see, The Bells of Forrabury. 25 If they think they hear the knelhng Of the Forrabury bells, Say 'tis the scornful captain who A coming storm foretells, And he his boat who launches Hears his own funeral knells. But the bells of high Tintagel Still merrily ring on, As, long ere Norman William came, They haughtily have done. While the bells of Forrabury Were not, have come, have gone. 26 hi Cormvall. ST IVES, CORNWALL. The day that I wandered down to St Ives I saw no man with a number of wives, Or cats or anything else of the kind Of which the old legend put me in mind, But only the town with its quaint old streets And the quaint old quay with its fisher fleets And sunburnt fishermen watching the tide Or drying their nets on the Island side, And fisherwomen hard-worked but gay For fine it was nor the boats away. And sturdy children some swimming about Some bare on the sand when the tide was out. S^ Ives, 27 When the tide was out there was gleaming sand Stretching leagues away upon either hand, Dividing the dark blue sea and the shore With its crown of boulder and heathy moor. There's little to laugh at about St Ives : Its story's a serious story of lives Nightly in risk on the pitiless sea To earn the fisher's inadequate fee, A story of lifeboat, rocket and belt, A story of woe not talked of but felt When a lugger puts out to sea and goes The way which all know of but no one knows. /I'iva j .ic<«-KLJt' Good-bye, little town by the Severn sea With your sands and old inns and your busy quay, And your carven church and your antique streets, And your sun-burned heroes of fisher fleets ! 28 In Cornwall. Good-bye ! when I read the name of St Ives The wives I shall think of are fishermen's wives, Rearing their sons to be heroes at home While the wild wind lashes the western foam Round the boats, in which brothers and husbands sail. To win their bread from the teeth of the gale, Or to carry a chance of life to wrecks At the risk of their own stout hearts and necks. The Mermaid of Zemior — a Ballad. 29 THE MERMAID OF ZEN NOR— A BALLAD. O STRANGERS from Australia, And strangers born at home, Who know no more of England Than those from o'er the foam, There is a church at Zennor, By the North Cornish sea, Where our forefathers worshipped And worship still may we In an old-fashioned building. In the old-fashioned style ; The church has still a Saxon floor And early-English aisle. 30 In Cornwall. The carving of the chancel Is plaster-overlaid ; 'Twas done two centuries ago When sturdy Roundheads prayed. But the bench ends carved grotesquely Of honest English oak Have all, save two, departed, In the common way of folk. And these two are Zennor's glory, More especially the one With the figure of a mermaid Rudely and oldly done. Why the figure of a mermaid Should grace a Christian church Has defied whole generations Of original research. The Mermaid of Zennor — a Ballad. 3 1 But we know no better reason Than the Zennor people told, In the days when men believed things, In the fairy days of old. For the squire's son of Zennor, So the ancient legend said. Sang so sweetly that he drew to land A wondering sea-maid, Who loved him and allured him Down to her ocean home, To go and be a merman Beneath Atlantic foam. And they never saw him after And carved the maid in oak To show how she was fashioned. Who lured him from his folk. 32 In Coniiuall. For of all the men in Cornwall There are none can sing a glee Like the singing men of Zennor Beside the Severn sea. But the neighbours say the reason Why the maid was carved in oak Was because a heathen mermaid Had taught the Zennor folk. And the parson said the mermaid Was a figure of the sea, Because the first apostles Had fished in Galilee. Well — anyhow the mermaid Is carved in heart of oak, And Zennor men sing better Than any other folk — So Zennor people tell you, In earnest or in joke. The Captive River. t^^^ THE CAPTIVE RIVER. AN IDYLL OF THE CORNISH MINES. I SPRANG to life upon the heights, Which frown on Zennor and the ocean. A fairy, born for daring flights From roclc to rock, for wayward motion 'Twixt overarching banks of heather On the wild moorlands of my birth, A mate for gossamer or feather Almost too pure a thing for earth. 34 In Cornwall. Impatient of my tardy growth, I hastened down toward the valley, Like many, who repent it, loath In childhood's fairyland to dally. I grew, with gifts of tribute waters By humbler sister fairies brought. Until, of all the mountain's daughters The greatest, I the lowlands sought. I scorned my soft brown moorland bed, I scorned the gleaming floor of gravel, Which stained my feet not, as I sped Upon my downward path of travel. I longed to show a crowded city My pure, wild beauty, knowing not That hunger's victims cannot pity Or praise, but only bruise and blot. The Captive River. 35 In quest of praise in peopled lands I gained a little mining village, Only, with my free limbs in bands, To find myself constrained to pillage The bright ore from the mountain bower Where it and I were born, and drive The mighty wheel that yields the power Which animates the busy hive. Freed from the wheel I hoped in vain Once more at my caprice to ramble, To cross the open moors again Amid the heather, brake and bramble. In vain, still captive, was I hurried 'Twixt narrow wooden walls to find, When I emerged befoamed and flurried, Only some other wheel to grind. 36 In Cornzvall. At last, my captors I escaped, Only to find the wished-for city. Through which my passage now I shaped, A sight to move my wrath and pity. My banks were void of leaf or flower. My path as closely straitened in With vice and want in all their power. With views of strife and smoke and sin. My only hope was now the sea. The pure, untainted, fragrant ocean. Might not to mingle waters be A cleansing, health-restoring potion ? Were not the Cornish sands a-sparkle, The Cornish seas of that rare hue, Which, as they grow alight or darkle. Varies from beryl-green to blue ? The Captive River. 37 Alas ! the seas and sands were bright, Until the mountain's fairy daughter Defiled their pureness, quenched their light, By contact with her sullied water. Stained was I, with my violence, ruddy When I the mountain's wealth out-forced ; And now the very seas turned bloody, Fouled by my touch, where'er I coursed. O welcome, welcome, open sea ! O welcome, welcome, stormy ocean ! Though lost in your wide arms I be, Lost is my stain in your commotion. My feet upon the moor are spotless, But I my guilty head must hide, No matter where, so it be blotless, And what I plunge it in be wide. 38 In Coi^nwall. SIR TRISTRAM AT TINTAGEL. Written after a Visit to Tintagel in Aug. 1884. YSOLDE. Sir Tristram back ? O wherefore art thou here ? The King will slay thee, and an outlawed man Breaking his ten years' parol, as thou dost. The Barons dare not shield thee. Tristram. But, Queen, The King himself released me, holding me Hard-fastened by the hand. With him I came. YsOLDE. The King? Sir TiHstram at Tinfagel. 39 Tristram. The King, for haled to Arthur's Court, A yielded recreant, by Launcelot And there appeached of treason on a Knight, Sir Bersules, cleaving him unawares, And for no cause but that he would not aid jn compassing my treasonable death, Arthur, as penance, bade him join accord And pass with me to ride into his realm. YSOLDE. Sir Tristram, trust him not ! He is my lord, God knows to my dishonour and sore pain — And well I know that in his shrewd black heart. Full of foul treason, hate and subtle guile, With thee he never truly will accord. He hates thee first for thy well-favouredness, Being himself ill-favoured — more than that For good which thou hast wrought him, winning him His crown of Cornwall and deliverance 40 In Cornwall. From tribute to my father, and for praise The people give thee, calling thee the grace And mirrour of all knighthood in the west, Here and in Lyonesse and most of all — Ah me that I confess it — for my love Which thou hast won from him — nay thou hast held From the beginning thine in his despite. Oh ! Tristram, he will slay thee, when thy limbs Are fast in bands laid treacherously on. Or smite thee through the back, or set on thee One man unarmed with half a score of Knights. Tristram. Fear not, great heart, I fear not ! YSOLDE. Tristram, heed ! Behold this rock we stand on how immense, Towering aloft, joined to the Cornish hills With rocky wall so thick that chariots Might pass upon its brow, and yet leave space Sir Tristram at Tintagel. 41 For rows of other chariots to stand On either side where the two chariots passed. See yon black pool beneath us, 'tis not great And it is far below, and yet that pool Little by little in the course of time Our rock will sever (rock) from the friendly shore, And maybe afterwards o'erwhelm the rock, Or strip it of the fabric fair, which crowns Its stately head. — Mayhap, where we two stand, In after days, but a low ruinous wall Or crumbling bank shall show the royal hill From any desert tor upon the moors. Mark is the pool tireless and deep and black, And far below thee as it lies below. Thou art the stately promontory joined To the whole land of Cornwall in men's hearts. But as beneath this — even now — are caves Sapped by the sea, through which on stormy nights The breakers with low ominous thunder roar, • So there are signs. 42 In Cornwall. See Tristram, here is samphire, Which grows not but on sheer sea-beaten diffs. This samphire with its golden flowers and leaves. So gentle to soft touch, but being bruised, So pungent is for thee and Launcelot To wear upon your casques, you two who stand Like island-cliffs for wind and wave to lash. Tristram, thou and Launcelot : but nay, 1 must not talk of Launcelot and thee ; For folk will think of me and Guinevere, Twin Queens disloyal — yet we had our loves Before our Lords. Did I not give my love, Tristram, to thee for ever ? It was lent, But for a while, to Mark at thy behest ; , And being thine, thou mayest call it back | At thy good pleasure. Tristram, mindest thou, When we were yet in Ireland and unwed ? And how I healed thee of thy grievous hurt ? And how I hated Sir Palamides, And gave thee the white armour, which thou worest Sir Tristra7ii at Tintagel. 43 When thou so greatly overthrewest him — White armour from a maid to maiden Knight ? Our hearts were white then, white had they been now Had we but kept them true unto themselves, — Nay ! they are white ; for a great love, once given And never faltered from, must needs be white ; And we have never faltered in our love, Although obedience and circumstance Have crossed the hands, which should have only met. Oh Tristram, I should bid thee hold thine arm From round my body, and forbear my lips. What would men say who saw the imperious Queen, Ysolde the proud, Ysolde the stern and high, The dark repellant Ysolde, yielding her. To love's caresses like a budding girl Who hath not lost the lesson of the child Though she hath learned the lore of womanhood ? And yet I cannot bid thee. Child I am With thee : for hast thou not the countersign To take thee past each line of my defence 44 1^1- Cornwall. Right to the keep ? I have no gate for thee, No watch, no ward. Nay ! Kiss me not again ! Thy kisses are thy Queen's — the fair Ysolde's, The lily-fingered Ysolde's, O my love Why didst thou wed this beautiful Ysolde, This chaste, this sweet unquestioning Ysolde, This noble Ysolde, asking thee for nought But giving thee her all, thy children's mother, Upbraiding not for absence, nor for love Pre-mortgaged to another, and forespent, And me thereby upbraiding ten times more Than if slie heaped ten thousand curses on me ? Thinkest thou if I loved Mark — impossible ! — But if I could, that I would have his love. His time, his thoughts, his presence, everything Wasted upon an old discarded love ? Nay, Tristram, by " discarded " I mean nought. No querulousness ; but, when I think on her, I can but sigh for that which might have been If thou hadst not obeyed thine uncle-king Sir Tristram at Tiniagel. 45 So loyally, when he demanded me, Nor I fulfilled my word so loyally, Which unto thee I sware that I would wed Whomso thou wishedst, deeming if not thee 'Twere somewhat to have wed thy chosen friend. Had we not been so childish-loyal then, We had been loyaller now. Oh ! 'tis a sin To bind oneself to fealty, which leaves No choice but wrong or disobedience. And as with me so with Queen Guinevere : I cannot but compare myself with her, A king's wife, as I am, so royally loved And honoured and dishonoured by that love. Tristram. Nay, Ysolde, I am liker her than thou, For she hath wed the gentlest Knight alive And I the gentlest maid. And Launcelot, He never had a lover but the Queen, Or thou but me. For Mark was not thy love 46 In Cornwall. But my behest. I am like Guinevere And Launcelot the truest Knight alive, Who ever bears his great love for the Queen Between him and all maids. — What greater love Can any cherish than to stay unwed, Because the woman of his love is wed, And wait upon the lady of his love. By day and night, when be it that he may. To do her what true service he may chance ? YSOLDE. And thou, O Tristram, what dost thou but this ? Tristram. Nay, sweet, I did not so as Launcelot But wedded me. YsOLDE. O Tristram, blame to me That ever I was wed. Why did not I, Failing thy choice of me to be thy wife. Sir Tristram at Tintagel. 47 Go out to be a handmaid to thy wife, I the proud Ysolde, I the stern and high Whom men, for my unbending spirit dread As more than woman, shun as one possessed ? Oh 1 how I would that I were with thy wife As chamber-woman, menial — what not, — To be about thee alway, and to smooth Thy life with faithful service vigilant. And yet not take thee from her. She hath won Upon me with her gentleness so well That I could spare her any grace but one — Thy presence. Were I by, she might be Queen. Oh ! how I hate Tintagel! Its huge cliffs, Black pools and wrathful waves are ominous Of wild, precipitous, storm-beaten lives. The place is fraught with magic and with storm ; Merlin bewitched it — here another Queen Was loved by one — not her own Lord — too well ; And here was found a little naked babe — Her babe say some and some say Gothlois — 48 In Cornivall. Which brought by the enchanter and bred up, Hath grown to be the source of many battles, Albeit it grew to be the blameless king. Nor do I think this rock will e'er be blest Or any castle long will stand thereon Though many there be built. Tristram. Nay, fear not, sweet ! We shall spend many golden days herein, On velvet turf reposing with the breeze Fresh blowing from the west to feed our lungs, With the rich Cornish sun to mellow us, And league-long cliffs to gaze at, and blue seas Surf-crested by the reefs with fringe of foam. And sough or roar of waves to lull our ears. And ferns for me to gather from sea-caves To deck thy glossy hair. The king-seal's fur Shall wrap thy slim form from the winter's blast, For am I not renowned the hunter-knight ? Sir Tristram at Tintagel. 49 And I will hear thee harp with that same touch I taught thee when thou satest on my knee, In Ireland as thou healed'st me of my hurt, Rewarding thee with kisses, little one, For thou wast little then in years, though grown Into a budding wealth of womanhood. And we will ride and hawk upon the hills And chase the swift red stag upon the moors And— YSOLDE. Nay, my love, but, Mark ! Tristram. I fear not Mark. YSOLDE. Nor I, in field 3 but Mark is treacherous And full of wiles, face-friendly, unrelaxed, Relentless, unforgctting. Tristram. He hath sworn. D 50 In Cornwall. YSOLDE. A thousand times, but when kept he an oath Longer than he had need to save his skin From present peril. Mark will not forgive. Tristram. But— YsOLDE. But what ? Tristram. But Mark will not forget, And Launcelot hath sworn upon his head To visit treason done in my despite On Mark's own head, though heaven and earth shall fall. Cornish Sonnets. 51 CORNISH SONNETS. CORNWALL. Cornwall, thou rivallest the border-land In the romance, which thrills the poet's heart : Indeed a border-land thyself thou art. Where British Douglases did stoutly stand 'Gainst Saxon Percies — wouldest have as grand A roll of ballad-heroes on thy part If only the true tale of what thou wert Had not been blurred with Time's obscuring hand In the long centuries, like the granite stone On tombs in thine old churchyards. Lyonnesse, Tintagel, maybe Camelot, are thine own : And on thine uplands lingered the impress Of pixy, giant, exorcist so long That still they leaven cottage talc and song. 52 In Cornwall. II. Nor hast thou only legend and romance : For does not dusty board, in wayside fane, Oft to the antiquary's search make plain How stoutly Cornish halberds did advance King Charles's cause ? And where could artist glance On boulders like Treen's Castle-of-the-Dane, Or mightier billows rolling from the main Than those which hurl their winter puissance Against Tintagel and the Land's-end cliffs, While from the dim recesses of thine heart The stream of wealth has risen, since the skiffs Of the Phoenicians took that to the mart Which gave those islands of the northern seas Their ancient name of Cassiterides. On the Cornish Aloors. 53 SONNETS ON THE CORNISH MOORS. ON THE CORNISH MOORS. He, whom the Muse beguiles, doth seldom note The flight of time or covering of space, But rambles on with absent-minded face, Oft with light tread, though blistered be his foot His body weary and his goal remote ; The mind's impatience wearies more than pace ; And he who feeds or lulls his mind, can brace A weary frame to task too heavy put. I had been climbing all a summer day : Over rough Cornish moors had been my roam Jaded and footsore was I, far from home, And thrice as far it seemed to lie away, When suddenly the Muse spoke, and I sped As lightly home as though enchantment-led. 54 I^ Cornwall. II. The Cornish moors ! what visions raise they not Of fairies, pixies, giants, knights, and kings ? For here the latest fairies danced their rings And pixies lurked in every lonely spot To lure the traveller : and giants wrote Their history in stones whose vastness sings. As never minstrel might who harped on strings, The giants' mighty lives. Here Tristram smote In his first fight, and Arthur in his last Beside the slaughterous bridge of Camelford After the power of his knights had passed, And here the loyal Cornishmen have poured Times out of mind their blood in any cause Which seemed to simple folk for Nature's laws. Castle C/mn. 55 CASTLE CHUN. A MIGHTY ring of granite stones, unhewn, Like beaches raised by the Atlantic tide On Cornish coasts, a brambled moat outside, And, bounding that, a giant's wall — half strewn, Half indestructible — are Castle Chun. Within it is one carpet, fairy-dyed. Of heather-crimson and gorse-gold allied, Fern-fringed with green. Late on an afternoon We scaled the castle-hill : the sun had gone, But on the ruins of long-vanished pride The haze of the departed godhead shone, So lately 'neath horizon did he glide. Was it not meet ? His rays would have revealed The ravages his haze did fondly shield. 56 In Corfiwall. II. Glorious it were to spend a summer night, — A sweet soft night in June, — within these walls, Listening to distant owl and curlew calls, And conjuring up a vision of the fight. Which strewed the moor, a cloth-yard arrow's flight, With barrow, cist, and cromlech. What appals The ignorant and timid only thralls The lover of the mystic with delight. Giant or fay were no unwelcome guest, Or ghost of Norseman, or Round-Table knight Still of the phantom Sangreal in quest. If such there came, might not there come a sight Of the huge castle in its ancient pride, — High-walled, deep-moated, and with kings inside ? Castle Chun. 5 7 in. It weighs but little in the poet's mind By whom 'twas reared — the dark Euskarian (Who named us " Britons," our primaeval man,) Against the Celt, or by the Celt designed To stay the Teuton conqueror and find Brief respite from the Viking. If blood ran In great old battles, if for long months' span 'Twas resolutely held, when hope had pined. And food had wasted, it is haunted ground ; Even if a bandit, preying on his kind, In these stupendous stones a fastness found. It matters not who stone to stone doth bind. Castles we love as stages where great plays By famous men were acted in old days. 58 In Cornwall. RIALOBRAN, THE SON OF CUNOVAL. RiALOBRAN, the Son of Cunoval, This is inscribed in Latin on a stone, Rough hewn and rudely lettered, standing lone Beneath Cam Galva. Was he general Or hero ? Did he valiantly fall Fighting the Saxon ? Did wild women moan Over a bulwark of the people gone ? Why shared he not the common fate of all, Who lived and died and were forgotten here, That his one stone the moors of Penwith hold. Gay-gardened at the season of the year With bramble-fruit, heath-purple, and gorse-gold, And with two castles of his ancient race Guarding in ruined pride his burial place. Pe7tzance. 59 SO.yMETS OF MOUNTS BA Y. PENZANCE. Penzance, I gazed upon you many a time Across the bay : now tropically blue, Now white with wrath and threatening to strew Ship and sea-wall in common wreck sublime. I gazed upon you when the morning prime Gilt tower and dome, and when the summer threw A veil of mist and splendour over you As seven of the even rang its chime. In pensive mood I gazed upon your lights Guiding the pilchard-fisher through the gloom, When I threw up the window of my room For the cool breeze on fine September nights, And hope for many a pleasant ramble still Through your quaint streets or up Lescudjack's hill. 6o In Cornwall. MOUNT'S BAY. SEPTEMBER 6tH, 1 884. The storm had passed, the breakers died away, The setting sun, a crown of glory, pressed On ocean's sinking head, while from the west A fresh wind blew, no longer fierce but gay. One ray illumed St Michael's Mount, one ray The Land's last range, and one the meadowy nest Beneath the leas of Ludgvan, and the rest The foaming locks of ocean tossed and grey. I called the legend to my mind, which told That round the Mount for miles a forest grew, Where sands have blown, meads bloomed, and waters rolled, For centuries ; and could not deem it true, Had not the workmen, digging in the ground Two fathoms deep, the ancient forest found. Marazion. 6 1 MARAZION. SEPTEMBER I4TH, 1884. The day was warm, as many an Austral day, And all day the September sun had rained On sand and old seawall rough-weather-stained And on the tide-filled waters of the bay So pitilessly that the idler lay In each chance shadow, or if he had gained The friendly shelter of a house, remained Until the storm of heat had passed away. Yet, ere the sun waned, when the tide ran down And I the causeway to the Mount had crossed In search of cool, the East wind blew so cold That I remembered winter days I'd known In New South Wales with scorch at noon but frost At eve, like strong men suddenly grown old. 62 In Cornwall. ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT. SEPTEMBER 25TH, 1 884. St Michael's Mount ! four weeks did I abide Beneath its shadow ; yet I entered not Its castle though I haunted the wild spot Moated with ocean every flush of tide. Oft was I tempted sore to pass inside ; It seemed so heedless, when it was one's lot To be so near, to miss it, and I wot That I enjoy the oft-derided pride Of seeing all the wonders of the earth, As wonders, though 'twere but a fleeting glance. Yet what was vain inquisitiveness worth When put into the scales with the romance, Which I could weave about each ancient wall, While distance held me in enchantment's thrall ? S^ Michaels Moimt, Sept. i^th. 6^ J II. While I was shielded from the common round And commonplace of modern social life, Piano, Paris-dress and paperknife, Afternoon tea and tennis, I was crowned An ancient king, could tread enchanted ground With fairy queens, and couch a lance in strife With mailed knights-errant. Might not Tristram's wife — Did he not dwell in Lyonnesse's bound ? — Be in yon tower, or else the Cornish Queen For whom he died. And if I heard a fount Of music from the church, it must have been The Norman Fathers from the elder mount. Was the hall lit ? The valiant cavalier Offered the ruined 'Stuart-Queen high cheer. 64 ' In Cornwall. ni. With dreams and visions of Arturian knight And monk from Mont St Michel d'Outremer Migrated to the Guarded Mount, the air Which floated round the castle rock was bright. Once more the Norman scorning terms and flight Opened his resolute veins, and stout De Vere Extorted his free pardon. Then a pair Of strangely mated lovers met my sight, Scotland's white rose, child of an honoured name, And he, who born of Flemish chapman, yet So like to England's royal Edward came That Edward's sister had the will to set The ancient crown of England on his head, And Scotland gave her choicest flower to wed. S^ Michaers Mount, Sept. 2^th. 65 IV. We know but little of this fair mock-queen Left in the castle, while her mock-king went To lead the angered Cornish into Kent And rouse the riversiders, who had been Foremost, whenever force did intervene 'Twixt wrong and weakness. When, with marching spent, His troops were routed, thou wast ta'en and sent To the crowned King. What was it in thy mien That melted that stern heart ? how didst thou weep And blush thy shame, that he who spared so few Should pardon thee and bid his White Rose keep This Scottish Rose beside her ? Thou hast shared The fate of many a flow'r of olden time, Whose tale has passed from history to rhyme. 66 In Cornwall. ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL, AT SUNSET. After a burning day, when even came, I climbed a cliff which looked across the bay, And glanced to where St Michael's Mountain lay Dissevered by a mirrored shaft of flame, — As ruddy as a maiden's blush of shame, — And a flood-tide with evening shadows grey From Marazion. There I mused away On Tristram's early praise and later blame, And how upon this very rock once stood The gleaming castle called through Lyonesse In Tristram's day, " The White Tower in the wood," While forest, meadow, towns and palaces Were bowered from here to Scilly's utmost bound, Where long the ocean hath usurped the ground. S^ MichaeCs Mount at Sunset. 67 n. I gazed upon the castle of to-day, At first behind a halo amber-dyed, ^Vhich half-concealed it and half fairified Until no mortal pencil could convey The glory of the picture — fit for fay Or Knight of old romance. I turned aside, Forgetful that a vision might not bide. And, when I looked again, the pageant gay Had vanished and a sorcerer's fastness rose Black from the precipice, — no aperture For door or window, — such as Dord shows With his grim brush, till the sun grew obscure. And eveiy point of tower and crag did leave In bold relief with the clear light of eve. 68 In Cornwall. III. The bay around was placid as a lake, And locked with land on every side save one ; The pilchard boats had, with the setting sun, Launched out their nightly task to undertake ; Some few small feathered songsters were awake. Their evensong of thanksgiving scarce done ; And to their pastures with their udders run The cows slow way were wending through the brake. Bathed in warm sunset, sate we there until The first bleak breeze of even warned us home, Fain on the fairy scene to linger still But fearful to be caught, while we might roam, By the cold outstretched fingers of the night Stripping its iris-vesture from the sight. S^ Michaels Mount by Moonlight. 69 ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT BY MOONLIGHT. At Marazion, I remember well How that I stood half a September night, To feast my eyes on the enchanted sight Exceeding all the poet's art to tell, St Michael's Mountain with its citadel Against the moonlit sky outstanding bright. And long dark headlands stretching left and right Around the placid bay, that rose and fell, With soft melodious, incessant sough, And gently heaving far off lights, which marked Fishers. I mused how here the Tyrian Ages ago adventured and embarked Tin from this haven, when the Aryan man Had not emerged from Aryan highlands rough. 70 In Cornwall. TO A YOUNG AUSTRALIAN LADY. E. M. S. Lady, I met thee on the Austral shore, Fresh from the very threshold of the grave, And pale as if thou never wouldest have Health's purple hue and springing footstep more. A few months passed, and on a ball-room floor Thou glidedst fair and graceful, though too brave. I saw thee then on that side of the wave No further. Now upon a Cornish moor Thou standest sunburnt, lithe, and strong of limb As a young Dian, making the wild heath And fallen cromlechs echo with health's hymn Of laughter. Futures who foreshadoweth ? How could I dream four years ago of thee Robust, and on these far off hills with me ? The Land's End. 7 1 SONNETS OF THE LAND'S END. THE LAND'S END. I. The Land's End is it ? with calm beryl sea Stretching before me for a score of miles To the low, distant, broken rim of isles ? The Land's End pictured in my reverie Had been a wall of granite on the lee Of waves, that mimicked mountains and defiles. And flung themselves upon the giant piles Of bouldcrSj swooping irresistibly, Like eagles driving through a wild swan's back Their greedy talons deep. Was Lyonnesse Submerged beneath this sleeping, gleaming track ? Here was it one alone escaped the stress Of wind and wave, when o'er Sir Tristram's realm The angry ocean rushed to overwhelm ? 72 In Cornwall. II. But stay ! Where'er an islet rock appears, Where the "Armed Knight" stands sentry o'er the strait, And fabled " Irish lady " met her fate, Where the " Long Ships " their warning light uprear, And the dark " Brisons " rise, cliff-castled sheer, A prison for a giant, springs a spate Of frosted, seething foam beneath the weight Of every pounding wave. It leaps up clear, (Like a white ostrich feather shot in air, Or like a sunny fountain in the court Of palace old) falls, ripples everywhere Hissing, then drains straight back with respite short. Islanding each projecting jag of rock. To break or merge in the next billow's shock. Sen7ien. 73 SENNEN-THE VILLAGE UPON THE LAND'S END. I, Sennen, mere hamlet — with a tiny fane, A tavern and farmhouses, what is here That pilgrims thread in hundreds year by year Through the long village past the Table-maen And roadside-cross ? it is that they would gain The end of England's land, and gaze down sheer From her last cliffs on billows running clear, Without a barrier, from the Spanish Main. Majestic is the sight, which strikes the eye, Whether the sea is calm — of that rare hue Greener than sapi)hire, more than beryl blue. Which gleams in Cornish coves — or threats the sky With waves that o'er the cliff tops leap on high And rend the rocks, and sand with wreckage strew. 74 ^^^ Cornwall. II. Nor is the little cove next Whitesand bay, With shelving slide of granite carried down Below low-water from the Fishers' Town, Without its history. For in his day After the crowning slaughter at Boleit, King Athelstan, to wear his English crown E'en to the utmost isles, from hence was blown By cruel east winds to the lands which lay A few leagues off, a bulwark from the west. Here later Stephen landed for a throne, And coming from his Irish wars King John ; And here, in her extremity, sore-pressed. She who, of proudest Scottish birth possessed. Linked the pretender's fortunes to her own. Senneii. 75 III. White Rose of Scotland, be thy slumber sweet, Who, after thy roi-faineant was ta'en, Taken thyself on Michael's Mount, didst gain The favour of all eyes which thou didst meet, Up to cold Henry on his judgment seat. From whom with blushes and thine eyes' soft rain, Thou, sole of all his captives, didst obtain Life-mercy. Was thy girlhood so replete With all which sweetens and illumines life, That thou thy forfeit neck couldst lightly win From these stern men not slow to slay their kin. In the long years of internecine strife That followed on the baring of the knife Which finished the two Roses' council-din. 76 In Cornzuall. VELLANDREATH— WHITESAND BAY. By Whitesand Bay report beholds at night The spirits of the folk who have been drowned In what was ancient Lyonnesse's bound, And fisher-folk still shrink in strange affright From treading on its shores before the light Or after dusk. Why this is haunted ground We know not if 'tis not that here are found, The corpses which have foundered in the bight, After the storm blows over. Once we know The cruel Spaniard beached upon these sands, Ready to lay his torch or violent hands On all he met : but that was long ago. And burn the mill was all that he might do Which named the place, but now no longer stands. To the Lizard. 77 SONNETS OF THE LIZARD. TO THE LIZARD. I. We drove betimes from Marazion town, Skirted Breage church, and, threading Helston streets, First sighted, where the tilth the moorland meets. The Cornish heather roving on the down, With full pale bells eyelashed with dainty brown. No heather such as this the sportsman greets As up and down his moor for grouse he beats In Yorkshire or the Highlands. Cornwall's own It will not leave the sanguine serpentine And soil magnesian, but in this far place It blossoms and the marble gleams divine. 'Tis like a dream some poet's pen might trace To have this strange fair stone and flower pressed In one wild corner of the scarce-known west. 78 In Cornwall. 11. We lighted down and roamed across the moor, 'Twixt stunted plants of heather and sea-pink, Until we found ourselves upon the brink Of Kynance — Kynance with its sandy floor And *' Cow-rock" like a marble Kohinoor Blood -hued, upstanding. When the sea did shrink The " Bellows " brayed with every rise and sink Of waves that round the island-base did roar, Even in the calm of a still summer day. In spacious caverns neath the cliff we walked With shimmering green and white and crimson gay For salon fit or banquet-hall, then stalked Along a dizzy path upon the isle, To gaze into the Devil's mouth a while. To the Lizard. 79 III. We left the isle and clomb the hill once more, Toward the Lizard, to the great twin lights Seen by the mariner on stormy nights To warn him of the perils of the shore. The " Lions' Den " where when the Lions roar No ship that sails could live, — so fiercely fights The lion breaker, from the rocky heights Flung on succeeding lions. Thence we bore To where the terrace looks upon the cove Of fishy Cadgwith, picked our dubious way To where we might gaze downward from above Into the " Devil's Frying-pan"; and day Being far spent, our way then wended back To Lizard-town to take the homeward track. In Cornwall. SONNETS OF ARTURIAN CORNWALL. TINTAGEL. AUGUST 1884. TiNTAGEL, huge rock-royal, glad was I That only here and there a crumbling wall, Hard to distinguish from the natural, Still stood upon thy summit. Worthily Could feudal palace-keep scarce occupy Such site ; and how would newer buildings pall Where every rood was stamped historical. Or fancy-tinged, or steeped in legendry ? Dismantled, one can picture on the isle A shadowy Arthur washed up from the bay, And rear upon its front a stately pile Of marble as kings reared them in the day, Ere time had taught the Briton to neglect The lesson of the Roman Architect. TintageL 8 1 II. Arthur and Ysolde, Uther and Ygraine, Tristram and Mark ! — on moon-enchanted nights At murk mid-dark, or when the island's heights Peer dimly through a veil of spray and rain Driven by the western gales — ye live again. What wilder than this huge rock, ringed with bights Precipice-walled and reefy, for the fights Of Uther and the Cornish Duke, both fain For Arthur's mother ? Not in fairy-land Have they in summer stillness such a cove With ferny caverns nooked and soft with sand To take a stranded babe. And hate and love, — Queen Ysolde's love for Tristram, and Mark's hate — Thv smooth brow and dark chasms illustrate. 82 In Cornwall. III. I saw thee first late on a summer eve, Too dusky to distinguish the low block Of wall fast mingling with the native rock, So dusky that I could not well perceive The vast ravine the elements did leave. When the great drawbridge fell, before the shock Of giant storms or those strong dwarfs who mock Adamant — mists which melt and frosts which cleave. Only the mount loomed black against the sky A.nd at my feet slow heavy breakers roared, The while I trampled, musing wistfully. The stunted gorse and sea-pinks of the sward Upon the windy height, whereon still stands The church first founded there by Saxon hands. Tintagel. '^2i IV. Next morn I clomb the mount to seek the well And all but vanished earthworks. Those were there When Uther's savage war-cry rent tlie air ; Those and the mount itself alone could tell, Had they but tongues, where such a hero fell, And such a gallant i)rince won such a fair, And how Queen Ysolde of the raven hair Held the stout knight, Sir Tristram, in her spell. The month was August and the morn was grand With all that makes an August morning dear To rain-vexed England ; light the west wind chased The ripples on the bay ; the sky was clear, The sun shone bright, the air was warm and dry : And Nature held the keep of days gone by. 84 In Cornwall. CAMELFORD— CAMELOT. I. Not Camelot the towered — the goodly town Upon the shining river, whither passed The Lady of Shalott, when fallen at last A victim to her spell, slow-wafted down ! Not Camelot the towered, the glittering crown Of all King Arthur's cities ! Yet thou hast Thy legend of the King — how Modred massed His traitor legions, where the waters brown Run neath the Bridge of Slaughter, how the King, With Launcelot dishonoured, Tristram slain And half of his Round-table following Dead or apostate — triumphed ; then was ta'en. Stricken to edath, by bold Sir Bedivere To Dozmary and passed upon the mere. Camelford. 8 5 CAMELFORD— SLAUGHTER BRIDGE. II. In the soft prelude of an August night We sallied forth from Camelford in quest Of where his last great battle in the west Brought death to Arthur. Grey the gloaming light Ere we were in the valley of the fight, A spot by Nature framed for fierce contest, With ridge commanding ridge, and crest on crest, On either side a little river, bright With waving sedge and darting trout. I'he bridge Was wreathed with blackhaired splcenwort and wild flowers. And the rank grass beneath the lowest ridge Guarded a stone, in characters not ours, Claimed by the country-folk with wondering eyes To tell that Arthur underneath it lies. I 86 In Cornwall. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS WRITTEN IN CORNWALL. SIR HUMPHREY DAVY'S SEAT, GULVAL CARN. Mousehole, Penzance, St Michael's at my feet, Severed by stretch of hill and rock and sand, But linked together with a gleaming band Of glassy waves. This was Sir Humphrey's seat, Which in bright youth he sought, for converse sweet, As youthful genius will in every land, With the shy Muse of Poesy, and scanned The bay below and moors above replete With Beauty's grace and Freedom's. Few had thought, Unless they read the story of his youth, That first his lamp the sage to Fancy brought And Wisdom afterward. But love of truth, Like love of fame, imagination needs To nerve it and inspire it to great deeds. To E. M. S. after a Tour in Cornwall. Z"] TO E. M. S. AFTER A TOUR IN CORNWALL. In solitary Zennor have we been, — Have trod Chun's mighty castle-heap of stones, And traced the barrows, where they laid men's bones After some old-world battle waged between The natives and invaders — gazed at Treen Rock-ramparted with boulder-bastions, As if a king of giants had lived there once And forced his folk to build — we two have seen The Atlantic charge unbridled on the wall Of rock which shields the end of EngHsh land, Have had a calm blue sea on either hand At Galva's Carn, and watched the sunset fall And moonlight play and dawn its glitter fount Over the castle on the Guarded Mount.* • St Michael's Mount, 88 In Cornwall. MARGUERITES. Lady in the Daisy's vesture, Dazzling white relieved with gold, Free from all affected gesture As the flower, not too bold, Though thou fearest nought, thou art Truly the flower's counterpart. For although in form and features There are few of womankind Fair as thou, of all God's creatures Thou art humblest in thy mind ; Yet thou fearest not to stand By the proudest in the land. Margtterites, §9 Just as, though in all creation Flower perfecter is not, It is with its simple station. In a quiet garden-plot, As content as though it were In a palace sojourner. Yet if on a queenly bosom In a chaplet it is laid With the rose and lily-blossom. Though their worship first be paid, Afterwards it is confessed Lovely, if not loveliest. Thou art upright as the flower, Art as purely raimented. And thou hast a golden-dower, As it has, upon thy head, And, like it, dost dread no stain From the sun or wind or rain. 90 In Cornwall. Farewell Daisies, flower-like maiden, And thou, flower-Marguerite ! May you be with dawn-dew laden Through the day to keep you sweet, And no dust or heat of noon Sully you or make you swoon ! P BeJiind the Scenes. 91 BEHIND THE SCENES. Sometimes it is man's privilege To have a lovely woman, either sister, Or, being wed himself, a friend Who seeks his aid and counsel, if he list her, And lays her mind before his eye, Confesses herself simple and a mortal, While those who are her worshippers Regard her mouth as a Sybilline portal. From which proceeds the voice of fate, And look on her as a remorseless power, That worship by caprice accepts And tramples on her subjects in her liour. 92 In Cornwall. While she, poor girl, is half appalled By the immense importance thus accruing To every little word or act She has been saying carelessly or doing. Her guide or brother sees it all. How that she cannot venture to be simple, However she desires to be, When destiny is looked for in a dimple, Doubt in delays and fate in frowns, And love in happy peals of girlish laughter, When aught she does or utters bears She knows not what significance thereafter. He, happy man, behind the scenes, Seeing how hard she strives to do her duty And so to act that what she does May not deceive, must trebly see her beauty. Behind the Scenes. 93 He knows, besides her outward charms, That, far from being a remorseless power, She is the fool of fate herself And longing for the coming of the hour When love will let her honestly Her mind and heart implicitly surrender, And let her give full liberty To aspirations and emotions tender. There is not aught more beautiful Than watching a fair maid, who feels that beauty Has won her love she would avoid. But yet strives tenderly to do her duty. 94 I^^ Co7'nwall. THE CISTERCIANS. "Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord," Said the hoary-headed prior to the fair-haired chorister, And rose the child's pure treble as his little heart out-poured At matins and at even-song his praise in accents clear. " Oh, ye that stand by night in the presence of the Lord," The hoary-headed prior's hand its task had finished now, Was echoed to the chorister become a monk, who poured His praise in dulcet tenor as he took the sacred vow. The Cistercians. 95 O ye that in his courts do the service of our God, " In the sanctuary lift your hands and bless his holy name," Sang the brother night and morning, as his holy path he trod, Unceasing in his song of praise, and prior he became. Bless ye, and may '* the Lord that the earth and heaven made Give you blessing out of Zion," in his accents shrill and thin The chorister, long prior now and hoary-headed, said To another sweet boy chorister but lately entered in. To the fair Cistercian abbey by the stately river side For many generations had the sweet-voiced boys been brought, And first as choristers, then monks, had gently lived and died In the perfect peace of God, since then elsewhere so vainly sought. 96 In Cornwall. Their life was in their abbey locked, the stirring world beyond With its passions for fair women and its furious clash of steel, With its riot in high places and its curse and blow and bond For poor folk trampled down beneath oppression's iron heel, Was dead to them : 'twas not for hire or fame that all day long They wrought and laid the stones so well which made their fabric rise So glorious a temple for their morn and even-song, With tower and spire and pinnacle all pointing to the skies. Their abbeys were not built ; they grew beneath the brothers' hand Till stones would bear no further touch they touched no other block, Like coral insects slow they worked, and like a coral strand Their work was perfect in its parts and solid as the rock. The Cistercians. 97 Twas not an age of architects who struggled to create But one of building bees who worked harmonious for a whole With one idea running through so obvious and great That master's eyes were needed not to guide them to their goal. The secret of the olden times which made the work they wrought Like Nature's master-pieces stand the test of time and change, Was that not fame or pay for work but perfect work they sought, A.nd knew perfection was a growth and not a product strange. — Those frescoes with their humanness were Brother Clement's life ; John to that missal's glowing page two scores of winters gave ; That statue had for Brother Paul the graces of a wife \ Two centuries of brothers wrought before they roofed the nave. G 98 /// Cornwall. How shall we rear a work of art in our degenerate day, A day when very plants are forced their products to forestall, A day when seasonable growth is looked on as delay, When architects scarce care for art and reckon labour all. Just here and there an artist toils in the old-fashioned style, Throwing his life into his task and throwing it in vain, Only by merest chance his work will win the public smile. And with it may be future fame through little present gain. 'Tis not that in these latter times the sum of art is less; We may not have the patient art to build a Gothic fane ; But art is growing where was once a howling wilder- ness, And even artizans can now its humbler flowers attain. The Cistercians. 99 And poets make this overflow of art their joyous text, Although they mourn the mighty men, the simple antique folk. Who laid each stone and limned each page, as if there were no next, And sowed their acorn quite content that it would be an oak. loo In Cornwall. THE HARVEST. I. He scattered his seed in due season, But cruel the early frost ; The rain and the sun were against him ; He dreamed that his crop v/as lost. But later it waxed and it whitened, And harvesters gathered it in. And some of it went to the windmill, And some of it bode in the bin. And, after, they feasted and rested, The goodman along with his men, For they knew that their work was over Till ploughing came round again. The Harvesl. i o i II. Was his brain-seed scattered in season Or early ? He long must doubt, While censure with winter threatened, And after-neglect with drought. But his brain-crop grew and it ripened, And the reapers, who seek good grain, Had gathered the harvest exulting, And then he had sown again. For little of feasting and resting Do the sowers of brain-seed know. Till ploughing and sowing are over And they go whither all men go. And when he is resting for ever His friends will they weep or rejoice, Beholding the fruits of the sowing But missing the musical voice ? I02 In Coi^nwall. SYLVIA. Sylvia are you, gentle Lady ? Rightly Sylvia, recalling Sunlight through the foliage shady. Cleft by morning breezes, falling. Sylvia are you ? Woodland flowers Are as delicate as moon-light, With no brightness and no powers Like the heather and the noon-light. But the noon-light and the heather, Spite of all their strength and splendour,. Cannot match, the two together, With the Wind-flow'r's beauty tender. Corn and Acorn. lo; "CORN AND ACORN," A PARABLE OF POETRY AND PELF. Who soweth wheat, may see it whiten, When summer comes again. And his and other homes may brighten Thus soon with goodly grain. The ear has come, is ground, is finished. And he must sow again, And work with labour undiminished To show one sack of grain. But he who plants an acorn, planteth, What he may never see A full-grown oak, but, if God granttth, Will one day be a tree I04 -^^ Cornwall. To shade not only those descended From him who sowed the tree, But fill with shape and verdure splendid The gaze of all who see. What wilt thou ? — sow the grain, which whitens In some few months and days. To earn the ready pay which brightens Life in so many ways ? Or sow the nut, which he who planteth May never see an oak, But which will grow, if God so granteth A shelter to all folk, A gladness to his kin and neighbours, A glory to his land. Proof when he long has done his labours Of what his head and hand Corn mid Acorn. 105 Did for the spot where he was nourished Whole centuries before, Though weaker men than he was flourished, While they were living, more ? What wilt thou? — sow with seed and gather The harvest of the day, Or sow with nuts of promise rather Which may endure for aye ? io6 In Coi-nwall. THE LEGEND OF THE LILY AND THE ROSE. SUGGESTED BY A PARAGRAPH OF THE LATE REV. R. S. HAWKER. Do you know the old tradition Which would look on every Rose, With its thorny crown as emblem Of the Christ who bore our woes, Whatsoever be its colour. Whatsoever shape it grows ? And the Lilies of the valley, And the Lilies of the lake, And the Lilies of the garden, Or whatever form they take, As the emblems of the Mother Who bore travail for his sake ? The Legend of the Lily and the Rose, ro; You may talk of Tudor Roses, And of France's Fleur-de-lys, Or the Lotus of old Egypt, But these flow'rs will ever be Just the types of the sweet Saviour, And his Mother mild to me. PART II. ACROSS THE SEA. MELBOURNE. January i8So. On the S.S. "Lusitania. " I. Past midnight had we watched the southern moon Illumining the long dark points of land Towards us stretched for miles on either hand, And the broad bay still as a salt lagoon On South Australian wilds ; and now too soon The morn had come. Yet I leapt up and scanned With eager eyes the panorama grand, When I was roused, a full eight hours ere noon, By the loud grating of the anchor chain ; For Melbourne rose before me, silver-veiled From the dark wood of masts, which fringed the main, The port to which five thousand leagues I'd sailed. And greatest city of the southern sphere. Though she has not yet reached her fiftieth year. 1 1 2 Across the Sea. II I stood on deck still gazing eagerly, Till some one came and pointed out to me The landmarks, pier-lipped Sandridge by the sea, The Scots' Church, the Cathedral-towers hard by, The great dome looming out against the sky Where the world's exhibition was to be. And the blue hills of Dandenong, so free And flowing in the distance. Presently, Ere seven bells had struck, a sailing boat Hove alongside and, sitting in the sheets, (Even now a hot wind blew), in thin silk coat I spied my host. How happy he who meets His welcome at the threshold. Timely greeting Is the best earnest of a welcome meeting. Melbourne, J amtary 1880. i r J HI. And my own Father's brother was my host, Though forty years had flitted since he went First forth from his ancestral home in Kent To what was then the wild Australian coast. And, though his home and kindred he had lost, Not vainly had his exiled years been spent, For in a corner of our Continent A nation had been born, and he could boast That none of her distinguished sons had done More in the moulding of her destinies Than he, a steadfast man whom everyone Knew and respected — even enemies, — Leader of men in every fierce debate Though only few months leader of the State. II 1 1 4 Ac7'oss the Sea. IN MEMORIAM.— SIR CHARLES SLADEN, K.C.M.G. [Born at Ripple Court, Dover, i8i6. Premier of the Colony of Victoria in the Crisis of 1868. Buried IN the Cemetery overlooking the Sea, at Geelong, where he had resided for forty years, 1884.] 'Tis meet that he who dies away from home Should sleep beside the sea which links and parts His grave and ancient churchyards, where the hearts Of those, who gave him birth, are laid in tomb. 'Tis meet, that when a strong man yields to doom His rest should be 'mid those for whom he fought, Amid the monuments of what he wrought, And in some place to which all folk may come. And therefore thou wert laid upon the hill O'erlooking the blue stillness of the bay Outside the city, where it was thy will In thy long sojourn forty years to stay, Far from the snowy cliffs which saw thy birth On the most famous island of the Earth. In MemoiHam — Sir Charles Sladen. 1 1 5 II. Thy birth was in the zone of pines, thy death Far from the cherry crofts and fields of corn And hop-clad hillsides 'mid which thou wast born ; Far from the Severn stream that wandcreth (Past stately hall and bleak Salopian heath, AV'ith here and there a salmon in a pool) Where thou wert bred, at Philip Sidney's school, Far from that other stream, that rivalleth The classic Isis in world-wide renown, Where thou didst make the study of the law And the bright page of history thine own. And from the great metropolis, which saw Thy happy wooing hours and studious days While thou wast conning Justice's dark ways. J 1 6 Across the Sea. GORDON'S TOMB.* I MADE a pilgrimage to Gordon's tomb, And found him buried in a graveyard wild, By trivial sights and sounds all undefiled, A sanctuary where field-flow'rs might bloom Unapprehensive of their general doom Of being pulled by every wanton child, Or harrowed out and evermore exiled For a crude, formal garden to make room. A broken column with a laurel wreath Marked where he lay; the murmurs of the sea He loved in life forsook him not in death ; The locust and the marsh-frog and the bee Mingled their notes in one melodious breath, And near him blossomed a young wattle-tree. * Written in the Cemetery at North Brighton, Victoria, over the tomb of Adam Lindsay Gordon, the poet of Victoria, born at Fayal in the Azores, and, like the author, educated Pt Cheltenham College. , Gordons Tojjzb. 1 1 7 II. I cried out, surely this is as should be, The wild bard 'mid the wild flow'rs slumbering In a lone place, where wild birds go to sing, In earshot of the everlasting sea. Surely he would not sleep so easily {U there is after-life and ghosts can wing A flight to where their bones lie mouldering) Had he been hemmed about with ceremony, With monuments of pride and gilt-railed beds Of far-fetched shrubs and plants. Where now he lies The wild flow'rs of the new land rear their heads, And some we used in the old land to prize, The scarlet pimpernel with sleepy lids. And brier with bloom so delicate in dyes. 1 1 8 Across the Sea. MELBOURNE. JULY 1884. Queen city of the South, electric spark Illuminating all our Continent, Thy motto is of conquest not content. Thy rays are wide-spread through the primal dark Of our mysterious north, thou stamp'st thy mark On territories of immense extent, And with potentialities up-pent Within them as immense. Hark thou, O hark, The fairy bells are ringing to thy night Chimes of a day of wondrous brilliance : Begins to dawn thy future broad and bright Over the hills, and that which will enhance Thy splendour, now is reddening the sky, In token of a rich noon drawing nigh. The South- Sea Voyager. 119 THE SOUTH-SEA VOYAGER. [Written on the P. and O. Steamer " Ballaarat," out ON THE Southern Ocean between Midnight and Dawn.] Under the starry southern sky, Over the waters wide we fly, The wavelets hiss around otir bow. Crested with foam deep-blue below, To match the clear night overhead. And the bright crescent moon hath spread A belt of silver from our side To where the sky and sea divide. 1 20 Across the Sea. Over the spacious southern sea A south-east breeze blows merrily ; It fills the great black sails on high, Standing out gaunt against the sky. It lightly flecks the sea with foam And speeds the good ship to her home, With siren music round her bow To lull to sleep the heads below. Long after midnight I arise And pace the deck with wondering eyes. Revelling in the tropic air Though slumber reigns supreme elsewhere, Save on the Bridge where, looming black Against the clear sky at her back, The watch their lonely vigil keep That others may in safety sleep ; The South Sea Voyager. 1 2 1 And in the throbbing engine room Where ceaseless the huge pistons boom, Driven by steam whose fires are fed By swarthy blacks in Nubia bred ; And forward, where a few Lascars Crouch silently beneath the stars, Waiting on their commander's lip To do the working of the ship. And first I raise my eyes on high And gaze toward the southern sky, To trace the starry-cross, then t'ward The Hunter's gleaming belt and sword I looked on in my native north With child-eyes ere I wandered forth, And lastly on the southern moon So bright but doomed to wanins: soon. 1 2 2 Across the Sea. The stars, the moon, the clear-dark sky All lift the gazer's thoughts on high ; Surely the planets and the wind Veil some omnipotence behind ; All surely would in chaos end Did not some power their motions bend ; One cannot raise one's eyes at sea And yet ignore the Deity. Then I look downward, and the sea Appals with its profundity. One hundred times as deep as are The highest masts on men-of-war. And then its melody and hue — So heavenly sweet so heavenly blue- Its monsters and its marvels fill My being with a mighty thrill. The South Sea Voyager. 123 Verily those who live on land See not the wonders of God's hand, But those who go down on the sea In ships — who know the ocean's glee When zephyrs blow, and know its wrath When the South-Westers cross its path And wind and water in their fray Make mighty barks like aspens sway. I sought my bunk again and dreamed Of where the orange blossoms gleamed Around my manhood's happy home, Then flew in fancy o'er the foam, To where the lime-trees in the spring My childhood with soft green did ring. Then mingled in confusion fair The quick-set hedge and prickly pear. 1 24 Across the Sea. Oh what a medley is my life — With now a mother now a wife For a Madonna — now the foam Now terra firma for my home — Now scorching sun, now cold and rain To guard against — now groves of cane And palm around me waving, now Harebell and berry-laden bough ! But life — where'er — has charms for me, Whether on land or on the sea. In town or country, moor or wood. In social throng or solitude, Whether upon an Austral plain Or in old Oxford once again. In native London or Ceylon The same fresh, happy, eager one. The Tropics. 125 THE TROPICS. Love we the warmth and Hght of tropic lands, The strange bright fruit, the feathery fan-spread leaves, The glowing mornings and the mellow eves, The strange shells scattered on the golden sands, The curious handiwork of Eastern hands. The little carts ambled by humpbacked beeves. The narrow outriggcd native boat which cleaves, Unscathed, the surf outside the coral strands. I;0ve we the blaze of colour, the rich red Of broad tiled-roof and turban, the bright green Of plantain-frond and paddy-field, nor dread The fierceness of the noon. The sky serene, The chill-less air, quaint sights, and tropic trees, Seem like a dream fulfilled of lotus-ease. 126 Across the Sea. II. Strange is it that imaginative men Should thirst so for the tropics ? Kingsley passed To Western Indies with a glad "at last," And seldom poet but has turned his pen To paint their glories longingly : thrice fain Was I, from childhood's earliest days, to cast My lot where calm blue tropic waters glassed The feathery palm and glossy-leaved plantain. To watch the gay-clad natives with mild eyes Carrj'ing quaint wares or plying some quaint trade, To gaze where domed and gorgeous temples rise, And lounge all day in the delicious shade Eating rich tropic fruits, and witnessing Some strangely fair or unfamiliar thing. Guardafiii, 1 2 7 GUARD AFUI. Written off Guardafui". A WEEK ago, we left the verdant shore Of Asia's pendent jewel, Taprobane, Palm-shaded to the margin of the main And with rich fruits and foliage teeming o'er. To-day we stand at Afric's Eastern door, Thee, Guardafui, home of the hurricane And heat and mist, whose grim slopes entertain No single leaf. Thou seemest evermore Like a huge giant, watching the approach To Egypt's treasures, suddenly transformed By Genies, whom thou lettedst not encroach Upon thy trust, into a stone, yet warmed, With faithful rage, whenever ships intrude Upon thy once scarce broken solitude. 128 Across the Sea. ADEN. Written off Aden. Gibraltar of tlie East, dark sentinel, Holding a shield over the waterway That floats ships to the cradle of the day (Which was the cradle of the arts as well) From the red west where shines the magic spell. Which once illumed the workshops of Cathay And India's temples with a magic ray Of skill and science, we can scarce excel With all our boasted knowledge, thou art fair, Seen in the distance with thy lofty rock Twisted into grotesque similitude Of mosque and castle in the evening air, Though thou art but a parched, pestiferous block Of barren stone, by nature unsubdued. At Siiez, May 1884. 129 AT SUEZ. May 1884. Written at Suez. Idly the water ripples round the hull Of the great ship, detained in quarantine, And yet not wholly wasted will have been Our day in Suez Harbour, beautiful, Had it no memories time can not annul, The well that Moses found, the very scene Where Israel crossed the water-walled ravine Formed by the rolled-back sea, and Pharaoh, full Of foregone victory, perished in the deep. So fairly do Arabia's hills and sand Mingle their rose and gold, where pilgrims creep From Cairo down to Mecca, on one hand, And on the other Egypt's in their hue Are dyed so gloriously dark and blue. 130 Across ike Sea. THE DESERT. Written on the Suez Canal. Scorched rocks and sand stretching for leagues away, A few dwarf heaths, scant-leaved and choked with dust, Such was the land when Moses led his host In flight from Egypt, such is it to-day ; Although at noon may oft be seen a bay, Tree- fringed, which leads the traveller to trust That he has reached the palm-begirt sea-coast, And that his parched and weary limbs shall play — When a few hours, a few more miles are o'er — In the clear waters mirrored silver-fair. Only to find an ever-stretching shore. Ever-receding sea. The mirage there, Is it not type of many a glittering hope That turned to rock and sand when we came up ? The Canal. i ; i o THE CANAL. (suez to port said.) Written on the Suez Canal. We sailed along the narrow waterway Which links the dawn-tinged east and busy west,- A puny streak of water at its best, E'en if it had not run through banks of cla}'. Yet hke the seal of genius it lay Upon the desert visil^ly impressed, E'en did not mighty steamers without rest Press on, where all was land the other day, Like barges towing on an English river ; And when night overtook us on the lake Before Ismailia, we had not ever Viewed sunset fairer, so each crimson flake Was mirrored on the water, and the eve Round the strange town such radiance did weave. 132 Across the Sea. FIANCEE. Written on the Mediterranean. Only a farce on shipboard it was true, And yet your genius is not oft excelled E'en by the Muse's daughters who have held The stage in thrill, and so your beauty grew Upon your audience, that they loved you too. Sweet were you, when you scornfully rebelled Against your * Uncle's Will,' when you repelled Your forced fianc^ — doubly sweet when you Confessed your passion. Soon the time must come For you to play the same part once again In life, to let dark eyes and wistful roam Over a manly face, held close, to rain Kisses like dew, to lay both tiny hands In a strong grasp and go where Love commands. Malta. 133 MALTA. Written off Malta. I. Bluff island of so many memories Since the Apostle, shipwrecked on thy shore Gave thy rude folk a name for evermore For kindness, and grew godlike in their eyes By shaking off the snake, which did arise Out of the fire. I pictured o'er and o'er The ecstasy, with which I should explore Thy knightly church, where the crusader lies, . The halls where the grandmaster of St John Ruled like a prince, the walls of la Valette (The jest and troi)hy of Na])oleon) And mighty bastions the English set Upon thy rocky brows — to see the work And waste of French and English, Knight and Turk. 1 34 Across the Sea. II. These and much more I thirsted to have seen, And rose at earliest daybreak, full of hope, Only to see the yellow flag run up In token that we were in quarantine. We caught some straitened glimpses of the scene Even from the ship's deck, with its narrow scope Narrowed yet more by deck-house, screen and rope. We even rowed (to say that we had been On Malta) to the Lazaretto. So 'Tis oft in life — some castle in the air, Some city of the fancy, which did glow Through our existence, gloriously fair, Is shut off by some tyrannous command Forbidding us to foot the firomised land. Carthage. i35 CARTHAGE. Written Abreast of Carthage. At sunset we left Malta. Ere noon fell We passed Cape Bon, a lofty-crested cape Blue in the morn but indistinct in shape Scarce known itself, but who hath not heard tell Of Carthage ? what high heart but loves it well ? And Carthage lay behind the water-scape, Carthage still eloquent of Dido's rape, Hannibal's vow and Hanno's citadel. My heart was stirred to think that where we sailed, Punic and Roman triremes oft had clashed, Until the youngest Scipio prevailed, And on one evil day to ruin crashed The glorious fabric reared by Tyrian hands With sea-borne spoil from all discovered lands. 1 36 Across the Sea. GIBRALTAR. Written off Gibraltar. I ROSE at dawn and rising from the main Beheld the three peaks of the famous rock Which once withstood four years the surge and shock By sea and land of banded France and Spain. Grim were the heights from which the red hot rain Fell on the ships, igniting where it struck, And grim tlie mighty cannon trained to block The entrance to the straits. I looked again And saw the keep a thousand years ago Built by the Moor, with honourable scars Inflicted on it in long Spanish wars With Englishman and Arab. A proud glow Thrilled me, beholding where my countrymen So mightily endured, and not in vain. Tar if a. 1 3 7 TARIFA. Written off Tarifa. Two bells had struck when we Tarifa passed, Tarifa eloquent with memories Of Arab knights, and with its fortresses Drenched with staunch English blood and now at last On the Atlantic were we, heading fast For England. Favourable was the breeze And blue the skies and mirrored blue the seas And a spring sun a glittering halo cast Over the battered walls and ruined keep And quaint old Moorish houses, once the scene Of high Moresco pomp and chivalry. But widowed now and slumbering by the deep Beneath the sun of Africa serene, Unwakened save when the great ships forge by. 138 Across the Sea. TRAFALGAR. Written on Trafalgar Bay. Cape Trafalgar ! O Bay of Trafalgar, What Englishman can look unmoved on thee While being borne on shipboard o'er the sea, Where that October morn was seen afar, Issuing in all the pride of naval war, The banded might of France and Spain to be Shattered in Nelson's crowning victory Ere darkness fell. O Cape and Bay ye are Not grand or lovely, but ye illustrate A truth as old as time, that humble things Can be ennobled by endeavours great Into a majesty unmatched by Kings. Such is the halo heroism throws Round every barren point on which it glows. upon the S.S. Ballaarat. 139 UPON THE S.S. " BALLAARAT." * OFF USHANT. Dedicated to the Hon. J. B. Watt of Sydney. O STATELY ship fast speeding to thy port, Our home, for six bright weeks of sunny weather, We have had many pleasant hours together Since we embarked — voyagers of either sort, Old Colonists returning to the land They left long since to win an independence. And young folks, born Australians, in attendance Longing to see their Fathers' native strand. We shall not leave our ship without a sigh, In which were born so many loves, hopes, fears, And friendships sure to last for many years. Or the blithe officers, who brought us by Australia, Asia, Africa, to rest Safe in our dear old island of the west. * A P. and O. Steamer. 1 40 Across the Sea. AT PLYMOUTH. At midnight we made out the Eddystone : An hour ere dawn, majestical and slow, We passed the iron fort, which daunts the foe From Plymouth Sound, and dropped our anchor down. At sunrise we took tender for Drake's town, And walked at early morn upon the Hoe, Where Drake his bowls would finish ere he'd go To rock right to its base the Spaniard's throne And smite his ships. We walked and looked once more Upon the long black ship which o'er the waves Of Indian and Atlantic oceans bore Us safely home to look upon the graves And mansions of our fathers, and to greet Friends whom for years it was not ours to meet. Ichabod. 141 ICHABOD. For forty years had aged Eli sate Judging the tribes of Israel in the gate, When God foretold to Samuel the doom On Eli and his race about to come. Early and late the man of God had prayed And every precept of his Lord obeyed, Except to lead his children in the path By which they might escape their Maker's wrath : And now the measure of his pilgrimage Drew well nigh to an hundred years of age. The aged mm heard from the young child's lips The doom which should his father's house eclipse, And, as the quick tears of his woe outpoured. He bowed his head and cried, "It is the Lord, " Let him do whatso scemcth to him good, And let His will by me be understood. His be the will, mine the submissive mood." ) 142 Across the Sea. To Shiloh on the even of the fight, Whereon the Philistines did Israel smite, With his clothes rent and earth upon his head, There came a man of Benjamin, who said, " Israel before the Philistines hath fled ; Hophni and Phinehas thy sons are dead ; The Ark of God is taken." With bowed head The old man heard that both his sons were dead, His people by the heathen undertrod ; But when 'twas told him of the Ark of God, Stricken with grief, he fell from where he sate. And brake his neck beside the judgment gate. Ichabod. 143 Meanwhile the wife of Phinehas his son Was great with child, her waiting wellnigh clone, And when she learned that Israel had fled And that her Lord and her Lord's sire were dead, And of the taking of the Ark of God, She bowed and travailed, murmuring, "Ichabod, The glory hath forsaken Israel, The Ark of God is taken, and they fell," And when the womenfolk who looked thereon Said, " Fear not thou, for thou hast borne a son In place of sire and husband who are dead," She answered not nor heeded what they said, But named the child her mournful ' Ichabod,' Because the heathen had the Ark of God. 144 Across the Sea. TWO YEARS OLD TO-DAY. [Written upon the Second Birthday of the Author's Son at Struan, Toorak, Victoria, Nov. 25TH, 1883.] Two years old to-day ! And the sun ripples over the meadow Rich with the breath of growing hay, And there is not a sign of a shadow On either flower-spangled scene On the field with its azure germanders And long grass stalks between, Or the golden-haired infant who wanders, Prattling his wonder merrily Under the blue Australian sky. Two Years Old To-day. 145 Two years old to-day ! What of him in the march of the hours, When twenty springtides trip away, And the grass has been mown and the flowers Faint with the early summer's heat, And the banks upon which they were blowing Are dust with trampling feet ? Golden-hair will have done with his sowing And bare his sickle now to reap, — God grant he may not have to weep. Two years old to-day ! What of him in the march of the years, When forty summers flow away, And his mates have some reaped in their tears, And some will have to reap no more, And he owns to the scorch of the summers, And has unbarred his door To the little fair-headed new-comers, And had himself to find the flowers To brighten them in childish hours ? K 146 Aci'oss the Sea. Two years old to-day ! What of him in his autumn and even, When sixty years have slipped away, And the shadows draw over his heaven. And he looks back across his life. Saying, " This day was good, and that glory Was worth those years of strife. And my name shall be written in story, And as the founder of my race My children's children I shall grace?" Two years old to day! What of him at the fall of the night. When eighty years have ebbed away. And the golden hairs melted to white Upon his last begotten son, And his children of their lives are saying. The done and the undone. Since their golden-haired infancy's maying Down in the flower-spangled glade. Ere it was mown or in tlie shade ? An Old Romance. 147 AN OLD ROMANCE. A BAR of an old-fashioned waltz, A glance at a faded dress, What is it that wakes in my heart These echoes of tenderness ? When that was the waltz of the hour, That dress in its pride and glow Of shimmering azure and pearl, A seven of summers ago, Sweet eyes used to gaze in my eyes, Light fingers would clasp my own, And a soft voice fell on my ears In a tremulous undertone. 148 Across tJie Sea. The face and the fingers I touch, The voice in its music is here, But Romance is a delicate moth That lives — just the sweet of a year. The Valse. 149 THE VALSE. He asks her a question ; she answers yes, With every grace in her graciousness, And rises to yield him her slender form Sweetly submissive and chastely warm, Smiles as she rises and lifts soft eyes. Gladdening when he would have her to rise, Takes his hand firmly and leans on him, Letting the rest of the room grow dim. 150 Across the Sea. He only has asked for her hand to valse ; Her seeming submission and warmth is false ; Once after a valse, as she sat and fanned The flush from her fairness, he asked her hand ; She rose with a motion of tender grace, Yet did she not look him as now in the face, But, drooping her lashes, besought him to go Graciously — gracious even in no. Her fingers in his have a touch of fire To kindle the glow of the old desire ; The waist in his arm so submissive and slim Awakes an electrical thrill in him ; He cannot encounter the tender eyes Without piecing the broken reveries. Or list to her voice in an undertone Without dreaming of her as his yielded own. The Valse. 151 Remembers she yet, when she yields to him, So trustfully, fingers and body slim ? And does she remember, when, free from all wiles, She offers him one of her own frank smiles? Or feel, when she ushers her kind replies With a pleading glance from her soft dark eyes. How she kindles the flame of the sacrifice Which is laid on her altar at such a price ? Fair maid, he would dance his whole life through, Had he such a partner for life as you ! Fond man, she would dance not with you again. Did she know that it brought back the old sweet pain. Yet cherish your secret and you may hold Her waist in your arm, as you held it of old, Press her hand, whisper — the vision is false. It is not your love she accepts, but the valse. 152 Across the Sea. THE GENTLEMAN-DROVER'S GOOD-BYE. Good bye, Old Chum ! We have, oft and on, been a lot together, Under scorching sun, and in stormy weather ; Even in the blaze we would often revel, In the stormy days we defied the devil, Took what might come. II. Good-bye a while ! When we two once more shall be found together Goodness knows. We are birds of one wild feather, Here to-day and off once again to-morrow, With just time to laugh or, instead of sorrow, Grimly to smile. The Gentleman- Drovers Good-bye. 153 III. Until we meet, Put on face as good for whatever weather, As you know you would were we two together : Don't believe I said single word against you : Don't believe I did what may have incensed you : Friend-trust is sweet. Good-bye once more ! Friends like we two are soon must drift together In the world somewhere, come what may in weather, If we only make both our minds up to it, You your oath may take we shall somehow do it, No long time o'er. 154 Ac7'oss the Sea. THE QUEEN OF HEARTS. She was the Queen of Hearts : there were some few with beauties rarer : This one had hair more golden-tinged ; that one had bhier eyes ; This was to the unheeding gaze unquestionably fairer ; That was more graceful, as she moved, or wittier in replies. But she was beautiful enough to dazzle in a measure, With clear eyes blue enough to haunt a lover with their hue, With grace sufficient not to jar upon one's sense of pleasure, As she moved to you and light arch wit which on the hearer grew. The Queen of Hearts. 155 Her crown was gentleness : her grace was graciousness unfailing, Soft smile or glance for everyone in all her court of friends, Her majesty a loftiness through her whole life pre- vailing, Which could not for a moment stoop to meaner thoughts or ends. 156 Across the Sea. THE SIGH OF THE SHOUTER. Give me the wealth I have squandered in " shouting,'' Scattered in sixpences, paid by the pound, Ladled out glibly — no grudging or doubting, Never a thought of the use to be found ? Where are the hours that I wasted so gaily, Drinking and laughing in front of the bar — Hours that I spent in mere indolence daily Heedless of how it my future might mar ? Gone, as the sun of the summer has vanished \ Woe with the winter is hurrying in, Woe for the waste that can never be banished, Gone is the glitter, but stayeth the sin. To G. E. Morrison, hsq. 157 TO G. E. MORRISON, Esq., AN EXPLORER OF NEW GUINEA. [A College Friend of the Author's at the Melbourne University.] When first I read romances as a boy, In playtime often used I to devour Stories of savage warfare by the hour, And wild adventures filled my soul with joy. As I grew older they began to cloy, Because I came to feel the sceptic's power, And look on talcs of scalp and arrow-sliower As scarce less shadowy than the tale oi Troy. But, when to Austral shores I winged my flight, Once more I stood upon enchanted ground, Adventure in its heyday still I found, One term at college missed a friend from sight. And heard that he his life had wellnigh lost, Exploring on the wild New Guinea coast. 158 Across the Sea. II. You should not be a disappointed man Although you did not light upon success : You had not failed, had you adventured less : Wiser — as well as nobler — is the plan To greatly dare, albeit you may scan Too high a goal, than yield in idleness To drudge on in the calling you profess, Doing what men of smaller compass can Better maybe than you. The while you deem That you were born to do His higher work, And to do petty labour were to shirk The task allotted to you in His scheme. For he who hath five talents doeth ill If he doth what one talent could fulfil. To G. E. Morrison, Esq. 159 III We do not say thai he has wholly failed, Who much has dared though little has he wrought, If, odds against, he gallantly has fought, And over adverse circumstance prevailed. For veterans 'twere something to have sailed Into a savage land so thickly fraught With pest and peril, as the shore you sought And penetrated, (until spear-impaled By lurking foemen), w'hen you scarce could call Yourself of man's estate. More stir and strife Have you imported into your brief life Of two and twenty summers than liefall Most people in a life-time. So much won Advance upon the bright path you've begun. i6o Across the Sea, AT WINDSOR, NEW SOUTH WALES, IN WINTER. There's a reek from the stalks of the Indian corn, As they stand in their blazing sheaves. There's a freshening breeze from the uplands borne, And a rustle of pelting leaves, Which will bound in a moment across the lea. Like the flattest of pebbles thrown For a duck and a drake on the summer sea By the children at Brighthelmstone. Were it not for the smoke from the stalks of corn And the scent from the orange trees, And the White-Gums, whose sober-hued tresses scorn The chill and the toss of the breeze ; Were it not for the Wattle with golden plume, And the She- oak with })laintive moan, I could fancy that I was beside the tomb Of my mother at Brighthelmstone. At Windsor, New South Wales. i6i Yes ! the trees, which are shedding, are English trees, But they grow not in English land, And the wind has the breath of an English breeze, But it tastes not of Sussex sand, And the heavens in winter had ne'er the hue, And a sun such as this ne'er shone, And the scent on the orange bloom never blew In the gardens at Brighthelmstone. It is, merry the glow of an Austral morn And the sun of its winter sky ; And the green of the burgeoning Indian corn Is a glory on earth to eye ; But as oft as I wander and weave my song On the balmiest day, alone, For a moment I wish that I roamed along On the beaches of Brighthelmstone. 1 62 Across the Sea. COOPER OF TUMUT, A HERO. [A True Story of the Australian Bush.] A HERO as gallant as he of Khartoum, Though one met his rescue and one met his doom, Was Cooper of Tumut, a six-year-old child, Left lonely on guard in a New South Wales wild. The township of Tumut stands sweet on the river, In the serest of summers an oasis ever ; But our poor little hero lived deep in the hush Surrounding the settler far back in the bush. A little one ailing and tossing in bed — Its father was working far off for its bread : Its mother was nursing a babe at her breast, With five little children to rob her of rest : Cooper of TnniuL 1 6 J Her husband was working far off for their bread, The little one ailing and tossing in bed : With the babe at her breast and her six-year-old child, In search of assistance, she plunged in the wild. The track through the forest from clearing to clearing. If trampled not often is aye disappearing ; The gum-branches falling, the heaths that upspring, So wanton is nature — a veil on it fling. At eve in Australia the darkness is swift, The shadows o'erwhelm like the snow in a drift, And ere she had come to her neighbour's, the night Had brought her to bay in the midst of her flight. The night it was stormy ; the thunder-cloud showered Its tears on the three, as for shelter they cowered In a hole by the root of the tree that was nighest, Defying the lightning which shivered the highest. 1 64 Across the Sea. A day and a night with no morsel of food — No breast for the babe — she must feed it with blood — Her own, or the child's, or, the faithful to death — The dog's, who would loather lose master than breath. The dog must be slaughtered : he flies not away. But welcomes the hand that is stretched out to slay : This truest of Christians endures to the end With the love that would lay down its life for a friend. Oh ! many the morn that the children would rush With the dog as sole escort to roam in the bush : He'd bark for sheer gladness as outward they trooi)ed, And brought up the rearguard as homeward they drooped, With his tongue hanging roguishly out of his mouth, Perhaps in dog-laughter, perhaps for the drouth. With a dignified march that declared without doubt That he'd frisked off the spirits with which he'd set out. Cooper of Tuniut. 165 He feared not to battle the deadly black snake, That the little one wished in his fingers to take, (When out in the forest with "Laddie" alone) As it flashed in its sleep on a sunny flat stone. What wanted the dingo found dead at the door, With Laddie beside him half dead in his gore, Which Father and Mother away for the night Had found when they came to their children at light ? The friend of the children, the guard of the house. Whom kindness could conquer, no teasing could rouse, Must end up his life of devotion with death : — If his blood might give baby an hour more of breath. He died as he often had perilled to die, For their lives that he loved— aiilJ reproach in his eye, That the hand which now wielded the gum-log that slew Should be that he had licked with attachment so true. 1 66 Across the Sea. The babe could not live upon loyal-heart's blood, As it lived on the milk it was used to for food, The slaughter availed not : the baby still died, And the mother toiled on with the child at her side. Three days and three nights and the baby was dead. She bore her dead babe and her little one led, And, fed with the flesh of the friend that had gone, The little one still struggled manfully on. Four days ! And the noontide glared down from the sky, The merciless sun of Australia was high : The stout little spirit could struggle no more. And downward he sank on the forest's rough floor. But stronger than Hagar the mother, who left Boy and babe by the water still full in a cleft From the rain of the thunder, till aid she had found For the child on its bed and the child on the ground. Cooper of Tumiit. 167 T\YO days more she wandered, unsheltered, unfed Ere she came to the Chinese who gave her his bread, And ran for a digger, miles further away, To help him to succour the child left astray. They hasted, but camped on the mountains that night. For long ere they neared him they lost the day's light, And when they did reach him, this six-year-old child Had been three days alone without food in the wild. Three days all alone without food in the wild. This stout little hero, this six-year-old child, In peril of serpents, in peril of dogs, No roof and no pillow but sky and dead logs. O singers of battles, no hero sing ye, Who'd the soul of the Spartan more truly than he ; This six-year-old child in Australia's bush Would put half the soldiers of story to blush. i68 Across the Sea. For there was the little one after his fast Of a week in the bush, when no morsel had passed His lips, save the dog's flesh before he was left By his mother afaint near the pool in the cleft. For there was the little one lying — ah no, But sitting up, spite of his want and his woe, By the little dead baby with vigilant eyes To guard the poor body from hawks and the flies. A hero as gallant as he of Khartoum, Though one met his rescue and one met his doom, Was Cooper of Tumut, this six-year-old child Who stood as a sentry three days in the wild. Envoy, He eat and was rescued : mayhap in the years He will live and will die in the simplest of spheres, This child who has shewn in six years from his birth A valour unpassed in the annals of Earth. A Ballad of Wattle- Blossom. 169 A BALLAD OF WATTLE-BLOSSOM. [The National Flower of Australia.] When winter is over and summer not come, When the North wind forgetteth to freeze or to sear, When the tempests, which shout in September, are dumb, Nor the drouth, which we dread in December, is here ; When the children are out in the prime of the year To gather a glory of tint and perfume, Though the Waratah, Rose, and Epacris are dear, Yet it's hey for the Wattle with gold for its bloouL 170 Across the Sea. When summer in splendour and swelter hath come, And the creeks are all dry and the grass is all sere ; When the picknickers roam in the forest for gum, Which wells from the Wattle in carbuncles clear ; If little they gather when no one is near, The sunny young girl, whose shy glances illume, And her sunburnt and stalwart and staunch cavalier. Yet it's hey for the Wattle though gone has its bloom. ^^'hen the shy-glancing maiden has wandered from home To the land, where her forefathers hunted the deer, Where the sky without cloud and the sea without foam Are a sight for the Gods, and Decembers are drear ; When she sighs for the sunburnt young squatter not here. And picks from his letter, just brought to her room, The blossom he plucked in the prime of the year. Then it's hey for the Wattle with gold for its bloom. A Ballad of Wattle- Blossom. 1 7 1 Envoy. When children are out m the prime of the year To gather a glory of tint and perfume — When shy-glancing maiden meets staunch cavalier, Then it's hey for the Wattle with gold for its bloom. 172 Across ^/le Sea. LIGHT AND SHADE. [Written at Old Government House, Parramatta, New South Wales.] Beneath an Austral winter sun, A worn man and a little child Roam in a garden, overrun With creepers and with beds gone wild ; The one with sallow sunken cheek And doubled back and wasted hands And hollow voice and motions weak Telling of years in tropic lands, The other revelling in wealth Of careless joy and glowing health. Light and Shade. 17, They both are idle : one doth pause Since now his day for work is done, The Httle laughing child because His day for work hath not begun : They play together — the worn man Finding the infant's tricks and talk Able to exorcise and ban The doubts that dog his daily walk, The wondering infant glad to find One so unoccupied and kind. The worn man sought the gentle clime Of this delightful, genial land, Feeling that else in no long time He would be gathered to God's hand. The little sunny child was born In this same sunny continent. As full of morning as this morn, In which the warmth and cool arc blent In that proportion just, which gives Health and delight to all that lives. 1 74 Across the Sea. THEMISTOCLES TO THE PEACE PARTY AT ATHENS, BEFORE SALAMIS. Sirs, you've lived somewhat longer than we have, And are so much the nearer to the grave. And, if you can win these few years of peace, Think that your pilgrimage on earth may cease In your old selfish indolence and ease Beside your vines and olives and fig trees. But we are young and are not fain to live Upon such welcome, as the Hellenes give To those, who have no portion or estate, But within strangers' walls do congregate. WordswortJi s " Two Voices.''' 175 WORDSWORTH'S "TWO VOICES." [Written at Waverley, Geelong, Victoria.] " Two voices are there : one is of the sea One of the mountains : " so the Poet sung, Who lived the hills of Cumberland among, And gave their names, O Liberty, to thee, But they have a significance for me Sweeter than liberty, less steeped in wrong, — Home — for I too in days when I was young, Lived on those Cumbrian hills. And, though there be Five thousand leagues of sea between us set. Oft as the peaks of distant hills I've scanned, I've dreamed of Easdale's mountain-coronet, And when upon the ocean's brink I stand, I sec in it a chain of blue and foam. To link me, long drawn out, with my old home. I 76 Across the Sea. POETS. [Dedicated to George P. E. Scott, Esq.] He is a poet, who lays stone to stone. As well as he who builds the lofty rhyme : We have stone poems dating from the prime Of Athens, and three thousand years have flown Without the ivy of oblivion Loosing one fragment from the pile sublime Reared on Troy's ashes in the elder time By the blind islander. The Parthenon And Iliad are ideas alike in kind But told in divers forms. It matters nought What the material moulded to the mind, If the result matches the artist's thought. One builds a stately pleasure-house in rhyme, And one a poem writes in stone and lime. Thi^ee Graces. 177 THREE GRACES. [C , I , AND E .] One hath sun-brown, one gold, one auburn hair ; Each hath blue eyes, and each the damask cheek Of pink and white, the profile of the Greek, The graceful form, the foot that treadeth air. The worship of the beautiful and rare. Swift intellect, simplicity antique. Courage against the strong, and for the weak Soft pity : each is feat and frank and fair. One hath the spell of music in her fingers, And one the art of Raphael, the third That witchery of voice which oft-times lingers In memory years after it is heard ; And all — to a fair edifice fair dome — Are useful, homely women in their home. M I 78 Ac7'oss the Sea. B. A. Free, To go for a scud on the sunny sea ! The study at morning and midnight done, The scribbled old books on the sofa thrown, The ink-pot left open to choke with dust. With an old J nib in it stiff with rust, And a red and blue pencil, in need of cutting. Sticking out of a drawer too full for shutting. Done ! And now I am free for a bask in the sun. Or reading a legend of ancient birth Of men, who have long since mingled with earth On the shores of the Mediterranean, Or to watch how Irene toys with her fan To eke out a story, as old as Adam, When Monsieur Moustache is with beautiful madam. B. A. 179 All! Are you sure that my " scout " will not give me a call, To be up with the lark and retrieve the work That overnight pleasure had made me shirk ? May I chat over lunch and have out my sleep, Without having one eye on the clock to keep ? May I once again act as if I was human, And venture to look on the charms of woman ? Yes! That vision has passed in its hideousness : Henceforth, without favour or fear, I can Look the world in the face, and stand up a man For no tyranny crushes the heart and soul With its cruel exactions of time and toll. Like that which determines so much our station In life — our arch-bogy — examination. 1 80 Across the Sea. THE BARBED ARROW. They tell me he is light of love, And cares for no one well, That wont his fancy is to rove Like fawns upon the fell, I know not this, I know not aught Save that we are apart, And oh ! I would that I had caught The key-note of his heart. 'Tis not that we have plighted troth ; We never spoke of love, But just the glad converse of youth With laughter interwove. 'Twas thus, they say, he used to talk With many another maid, Amid the glory of a walk By morning in the glade. The Barbed A rrow. 1 8 1 Alas it is not morning now, And he is not with me ; And yet I am his own I vow Whose ver own he be ; If he has loved so many well, Loved by so many been, Does it not prove him loveable Although it prove my teen ? O voice of youth and mirth come back, And wear his own dear form, To haunt the old familiar track, Witli friendship's rays once warm. Though other maids were there before And others on me press, O suffer me to make one more And spare me one caress ! PART III. POEMS WRITTEN IN LONDON. THE EXILE'S RETURN. Once more he stood in the home of his childhood ; Once more he walked 'mid the chestnuts and limes ; The trees were as green in the glory of springtide ; The house was the same, yet 'twas not like old times; For he was but a guest where he had been a son, And the home of his childhood for ever had gone. His parents were there, and more tender than ever ; But the brotliers and sisters, with whom he had played, Had been fledged and had taken their mates and had flitted, And the one who behind in the nest had still stayed Was the child of his parents' old age, just the one Who had not with him from his childhood upgrown. i86 Poems written in London. And he learned the sad truth that when once the fledged nesthng Has forsaken its place in the nest, it grows cold, Though the parents be warm, and however he presses It never will have the same glow as of old. And the bird who has once made a nest of his own Can never go back to the nest he has known. O nestling forsake not the nest of your parents ! O nestling be slow to be fledged and to fly ! 'Tis so easy for brothers and sisters to scatter, For parents and children to sever their tie ; ft . And the nestful, once broken, can never be one ^VM^ ^j^ Jn the way which it was ere the breaking was done. The limes, while they live, will be green in the spring- tide ; The chestnuts will blossom in April and May ; But children, who once leave their homes, will return not. Or, if they return, it will not be to play And to nestle together ; it is not their own, But the home of their parents when once they have flown. The Poet. 187 THE POET. The Poet, writing, feels nor heat nor cold Nor thirst nor hunger as he doth unfold, While his rich mind is open, from its hoard The gorgeous pageantry, with which jt^s stored. Winter or summer outside matters not ; 'Mid winter snows he can enjoy a hot And peerless day in palm groves of Ceylon, And, 'mid the scorching desert, can dwell on The breezy Kentish Cliffs, where he was born, In all the glory of an April morn. V:'UL ( -^ * And, though not rich enough to keep a wife, Omnipresent in day-dreams of his life He can have some pure image heavenly bright, Some woman, of a dazzling grace and light Denied to kings, almost as much imbued With life as if she were real flesh and blood. ^Vvw^W K^ ^' 1 88 Poems written in London. He wants no worldly store of costly things, For he can have for the imaginings, In turn, the fancifulness of Japan, The glow of Ind, old art Italian Or English luxury. His home can be By some wild fiord of the northern sea, Or in the peerless lands neath southern skies Peopled by EngHsh blood and enterprise. His house can be some ancient Gothic keep Or wide verandahed bungalow, where sleep Reigns through the fiery middle of the day. Alone, his converse can be grave or gay ; And he is in best company alone. With none to interru2l^hemagic_tone Belledjrom within, a kind of mystic chime Rung by the fancy to the ear of time. Give him enough to clothe himself and feed Without his care, and he is rich indeed. Able to revel when they both so choose, In undisturbed communion with his Muse. The Poet. 189 Dependence is his foul fiend, and restraint, To have to hsten to one drear complaint. To finish long and uncongenial tasks, To leave his Muse, when some small tyrant asks. Freedom is aye the burden of his song, For he is left one of the common throng If from constraint and care he is not free To give himself up to his phantasy. But it is hard for woman, who is real. To wed one ever wooing the ideal. To have the few brief minutes when, tired out. He cannot follow the will-o'-the-wisp about, To have him in his uncongenial moods. When he is unfit for his solitudes, To live on crumbs of comfort, which may fall From the rich table, where he feasts witli all The grand guests of his fancy — go through life More as his children's mother than his wife. For if a woman is a poet's ideal His Muse is ever worsted by the real, 190 Poems written in London. And all the poetry, which would have gone Into his written poems, is lavished on His poem-life, known only to himself And his soul's Queen j and when laid on the shelf After his passionate life-time, lost for aye. Unless some friend who knew him in his day. Falls back on that life-poem for the plot Of a romance, writing what he wrote not But lived. We cannot in this world have both To indulge in the bright intercourse of youth And also haunt the shady cloisters where There lurks an inspiration in the air. The Muse's husband cannot have a wife, Like other men, the essence of his life. OJU^ th\nAJ*XjZ aJm^LL. Mammon and Poesy. 1 9 1 "MAMMON AND POESY;" or, "The Poet's Choice." [Dedicated to Robert Browning, Esq., D.C.L.] " The elder Mr Browning had but two children — the poet, and a daughter, who still keeps house for her brother. When the son had arrived at that age, at which the bias or opportunity of parents usually dictates a profession to a youth, Mr Browning asked his son what he intended to be. It was known to the latter that his sister was provided for, and that there would always be enough to keep him also, and he had the singular courage to decline to be rich. He appealed to his Father whether it would not be better for him to see life in its best sense and culti- vate the powers of his mind, than to shackle himself in the very outset of his career by a laborious training foreign to that aim. The wisdom or unwisdom of such a step is proved by the measure of its success. In the case of Mr Browning the determination has never been regretted, and so great was the confidence 192 Poems written in London. of the Father in the genius of the son, that the former at once acquiesced in the proposal." — Fro7n " The Century Magazine,'' Dec. 1881. Wealth came to him with outstretched hand, And said, " Young dreamer come with me And have the fatness of the land And costliest gifts from o'er the sea." He took him to the mountain-top Of Mammon, shewed him all the Earth, The good things for which all men hope, Which the world holds of highest worth, And said, " Bow down and worship me. And all thou seest shall be thine : The glories of the land and sea And fulness of the Earth are mine. " But know I am a jealous God, And he, who worships me, must tread All day in crowded alleys trod By hard coarse men — must leave his bed Mammon and Poesy. " Early and seek his pleasure late, An altar of his desk must make And missal of his ledger, wait Until his sacrifice I take. Then he can trample on the hves And souls of those who cross his path, Can choose himself a wife of wives. Can make lands tremble at his wrath. " Can eat and drink whate'er is best In either sphere, can clothe his limbs With whatsoe'er is costliest, Live in a palace, list to hymns " Extolling every little crumb From his rich table let to fall — Until his day of death may come, A kind of monarch over all." N 194 Poems written iti London. He finished but, the while he spoke In tempting accents to the youth, Over the distant hills there broke — Over the distant hills of truth — A gleam of sunshine glowing on A far-oif vision. She was fair The maid on whom the sunshaft shone And with a crown of glittering hair, Which changed in colour, as the sight Qf him who saw was toned to view, Now golden-bright, now dusk as night, Now dull and now of sunny hue. But there was this about the maid That he, who at her beauty's shrine Had worship once or homage paid, Could ne'er his fealty resign, Mammon and Poesy. 195 But through howe'er a chequered life, Come good, come ill, in wealth or want. Though great in state, though with a wife Fair as a queen, must ever haunt Her altar with a sacrifice Of longing, whether of regret Or hope, and with some quaint device. Such as the old Knight-lovers set Upon their casques when they essayed Their prowess 'neath their lady's eyes- Even in the distance was this maid Wondrously fair to his surmise. She drew no nearer than to speak In tones just loud enough to hear, And yet 'twas not in accents weak But rather in a whisper clear, 196 Poems written in Lo7idon. And thus she spake, " Come thou with me, I have no Kingdom on the Earth, And yet is not by land and sea What men esteem of equal worth " As my true speech, which many hear / But cannot write it down, and he Who writes it is proclaimed a seer. The one man of his century. " I have no kingdom : thou may'st roam Through all the oases of the world. From where the millions make their home To where no flag was e'er unfurled, " From cosy cot by love illumed In some \\t\\ city's panting heart, To old-world palaces exhumed From neath Vesuvius' lava swart, 1 Manmton and Poesy. 1 9 7 " Now over an Australian plain Of peaceful victories with sheep, Now countries glorious with stain Of battle and with shattered keep, " And whether 'mid the pines thou sweepest Of the free, valiant North, or 'mid The glowing luscious East thou sleepest Until the day in dusk is hid, " And whether in a Lady's bower. Or waging warfare thou shalt be, Whate'er the place, whate'er the hour, Come good, come ill, on land or sea. " The restless spark within thy torch Shall die not, howso low it gleams ; Thou wilt not need a temple porch To worship me as it beseems. 1 98 Poems written in London. •* Once more, if thou my words canst hear, And write down truly what thou hearest, Folks will bow down to thee as seer, Of all men to the gods the nearest. " I cannot give thee life or wealth, Or rest, the crowning gift of Earth, But if Heaven gives thee life and health, And thou art seer,— there's nought of worth " But men will haste to offer thee As singer and interpreter Of the lost voices, which there be Lurking within the earth and air." The youth paused not, — though Mammon gave His gifts for certain undelayed, — For a few years to be a slave. Then lord of all that he surveyed. Mavmion and Poesy. 199 Though Mammon took him by the hand, And Poesy stood on the height, And promised nought but only planned His guerdon if he heard aright, — But took the torch which she did proffer, Content upon her altar stairs One more bright, blasted life to offer. If Heaven heeded not his prayers That he might be elect to write In language Avhoso ran could read Voices from old towns borne at night And on still mornings from the mead, Voices of Nature, Poesy, Or inspiration — what you will — Heard when afar from human eye, Heard best when human sounds are still. 200 Poems widtteji m London. And Heaven listened : now he stands A singer and acknowledged seer Loved in all English-speaking lands, In his own walk without a peer. PART IV. P O E M S WRITTEN IN DEVONSHIRE CHIEFLY AT TORQUAY. A BALLAD OF PLEASURE. "We workers, who toil in the grimy town, Have heard of the drones who will spend the day In galloping over the breezy down, Or saiHng about on the bright blue bay, Or striving the strenuous hours away In matches at cricket and games at fives, Or hunting or shooting or all in play, \Vhile we are in slavery all our lives. We workers, who toil in the grimy town. Have heard of the drones who will spend the day In changes and changes of suit and gown. And vying each other in vain display, And lounging and lunching and idle sciy, — Old bachelors wooing to wild young wives. Young bachelors losing their lands at play — While we are in slavery all our lives. 204 Poems written in Devonshire. We workers, who toil in the grimy town, Have heard of the drones who will spend the day In dreaming away by the waters brown When summer is singing his roundelay, And over the fire, when in widow-grey The winter once more from the north arrives. Just prating of Letters and Art in play. While we are in slavery all our lives. P^NVOY. We wonder what profit is theirs and say, " These indolent drones with their wastefufwives, They shall not endure in their endless play. While we are in slavery all our lives." A Ballad of Pain. 205 A BALLAD OF PAIN. The " Ballad of Pleasure" was finished at i a.m. on i'eb. 1st 18s5 : at 9 a.m. " bob " was found dead IN HIS Cradle. My heart was overfull with joy, As late I sat one winternight, Exulting that my two-months' boy Should now receive the chrystom rite ; But, when the morrow morn was light, My heart was overfull with pain. For there I found him stiff and white, The babe who never moved again. 2o6 Poems written in Devonshire. My heart was overfull with joy, As late I sat one winternight, Exulting o'er a two-days' toy, A ballad ready now to write ; But, ere the sun had climbed his height, My song was in another strain, For there I found him stiff and white, The babe who never moved again. My heart was overfull with joy, As late I sat one winternight, Two hours of gold without alloy To pass with maidens boon and bright ; At morn I saw another sight Than maidens fair and maidens fain. For there I found him stiff and white. The babe who never moved again. A Ballad of Pa in . 207 Envoy. Many a sight of joy and light May I forget, but not the pain With which I found him stiff and white, The babe who never moved again. 2o8 Poems written in Devonshire. A BALLAD OF A GRAVEYARD. [To William Nimmo, Esq., a College-Friend OF THE Author.] The Graveyard looks on Mary's Church ; And Mary's Church looks on the sea ; And there I found with loving search, Not far off from a cypress-tree, A bed for his mortality, Within the echo of the main, Our gleaming link that is to be, When we are overseas again. A Ballad of a Graveyard. 209 The Graveyard looks on Mary's Church ; And Mary's Church looks on the sea ; The rain the chapel panes did smirch While I knelt down in agony, — I, and one college friend with me, Oft mate in pleasure, now in pain, And comrade oft, I trust, to be When we are overseas again. The Graveyard looks on Mary's Church ; And Mary's Church looks on the sea ; And there we sowed 'mid pine and birch A seed of immortality. And I, where'er on earth I be, Shall never hear the sounding main Without this solemn memory, When we arc overseas again. 2 1 o Poems written in Devonshire. Envoy. We sowed his small mortality To sight the church which sights the main, Our link with him that is to be When we are overseas again. Maidenhood — A Serenade. 2 1 1 MAIDENHOOD— A SERENADE. My Lady she loves me, she loves to be near, She tells me — and oft — that my friendship is dear ; But, if I dare whisper one hint of my love, Turns cold as the Lady of Even above. Her heart is as warm as the Lord of the Day, Her sunshine is clouded when I am away, And yet if I venture that question to ask Which, granted, allows her for ever to bask. She flics to the shadow, which bashfulness throws To check the sun's fei-vour from forcing the rose ; And days of coy wooing but slowly recall The sunshine of friendship when shadows befall. 212 Poems written in Devonshire. Were women as sunny, in wooing as we, The shadows which chequer our courtship would flee ; Were men but as mooncold in wooing, their lives Would seldom be lit with the sunshine of wives. She loves me, my lady : — she stays in the sun, Though doubting, for aid, to the shadows to run ; The rosebud is blushing to ope to the heat. And the scent, as she bursts into blossom, is sweet. My lady, she loves me, and whispers it oft, Not timid and cold now but timid and soft ; Both morning and even her sun she'd have light, Like the sun of the north upon midsummer night. Under the Mistletoe, 2 1 3 UNDER THE MISTLETOE. Why did he kiss her not ? because he loved her ; Because an angry word, a struggle vain, Might breed a coldness which should long remain : The^^blushing maid but strove, as it behoved her. Would it have pleased him, had she yielded lightl)' To every lip, which sought her check to taste, Under the mistletoe by frolic placed Over the door, while laughter echoed brightly ? Why no ! she had his worship : it would waken A rude surprise to see his Artemis, From the high-places where he shrined her, taken, As if she were no coyer than Cypris, And the pure dew from off her sweet mouth shaken, The virgin dew, by mirth and mischief's kiss. 2 1 4 Poems written m Devonshire. II. Why did she let him not ? because she loved him,. Because if he, why not some others too, Because she'd have him think her chaste and true : Why did he try ? because it so behoved him. For had he not long worship to her offered, Smiled with her smiles, grieved with her griefs,"and talked Sweet music of the heart, as oft they walked, And love in every speech but tongue-speech proffered? Would she have let him with none by to see her ? Yes ! had he dared defy her first fierce speech, Pinion her struggles, flat-refuse to free her, Kiss off her shame and anger, then beseech Her love in spoken words, he might decree her Submissive lips and hands to him to reach. Under the Mistletoe. 2 1 5 III. Under the mistletoe, who holds her hands now Out-stretched submissively, and yields her lips, Without demur, to love's repeated sips, Delighting in her newly-fitted bands now ? Is this the girl-Lucretia, who repelled him. With crimson-mantling cheek and shrinking form, And with reproach half-pleading and half-warm, So that half-fear, half-penitence withheld him ? If she had suffered him in jest, she could not Have yielded him so full a gift in fee ; If he had plundered her in jest, he would not Have found his feast so rich when he was free. And though his will in wnrath she had withstood not, Without the grace of self restrained would be. 2 1 6 Poems written in Devonshire. KING CHARLIE. [Written upon the Third Birthday of the Author's Son.] Charles the Bold and Charles the Bad, Charles the Great and the Victorious, Set beside this little lad. Where are now your triumphs glorious- If the living dog is held Better than the slaughtered Lion, As the prophet wrote of eld ? Ye are shadows like Ixion. King Charlie. 217 Charles the Martyr, Charles the Mad, Charles the Swede and Charles the Hammer, Ye, for all the pow'r ye had Not one syllable can stammer. Yonder boy, in slumber calm Dreaming of some fairy story. Has more strength in his right arm Than have ye for all your glory. With the fair white robes of youth, Childhood's golden crown upon him, Only the blight side of truth Told him yet, do wc enthrone him. Use thy power well, small king ! Thou hast all the world before thee : If thou lose it dallying, We can never quite restore thee. 2 1 8 Poems written in Devonshire. Are their nam.es remembered still, Having gone not as their cares have ? Yes, for few do deeds that will Stand the test of time as theirs have. Yet these Charleses, in their day. Though the world could scarce contain them, Now that they have passed away. Little board-school boys arraign them. Child King Charhe, anxious eyes On thy future are directed : Is the monarch we so prize Worthily a king elected ? Who shall tell us, — if there be No such thing as after-life time, If no resting-place have we After labour-time and strife-time ? King Charlie. 2 1 9 Charles the Swede and Charles Martel, Charles the Great and the Victorious, History hath loved you well ; May this small king be as glorious ! May your good alone proceed, And this child illuminate, Charles Martel and Charles the Swede, The Victorious and the Great ! 2 20 Poems written in Devonshire. TO A LADY ON HER TWENTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY. E. M. N. I KNEW you when, scarce more than child, You had but now left school, A little shy, a little wild, A madcap of misrule. I treasure yet the greeting smile, The dainty change of hue. That fluttered through your cheeks awhile At our first interview. Welcome and graciousness were writ As now upon your face. Although you had not all your wit Or all your present grace. To a Lady on her Birthday. 2 2 1 By you I lived two golden years Beneath a cloudless sky, Without a thought of wrath or tears, In closest sympathy. I watched the growth of that sweet flower We call your womanhood. Saw it develop hour by hour. Each leaf and blossom good. Daily the blossoms sweeter grew. More shapely in their growth, While kept the leaves the tender hue And softness of their youth. You were like sister, in a land Where sisters I had none, To whom I told whate'er I planned. And shewed whate'er I'd done. 2 2 2 Poems written in Devonshire. While neighbours never spoke we word We fain had spoken not, And nought between us e'er occurred Which we should wish forgot. And then we left the dear old place, I in fresh lands to roam, And you with travel to efface The loss of your old home. Once more a few brief weeks we spent In the familiar town, But not in the old way which lent To every hour its crown. For cares we could not obviate Kept us too far apart, Although they varied not the state Of friendly heart to heart. To a Lady on her Birthday. ^Ve parted once again to roam, Whither we scarce had planned, Until we found — myself at home, You in my native land. We met, not as we parted last, But as we first had met. As if two absent years had passed Just for us to forget. We met with no distracting care To pilfer precious hours, And reinstalled the friendship rare Which in old days was ours. And then I saw the stately growth Of your full womanhood, Still with the tenderness of youth, As with spring leaves, endued. 2 24 Poems written in Devonshire. And with rich blossoms of the mind, And blossoms of the soul, In hue and scent and shape refined. Harmonious with the whole. Ungracious words you never spoke, Or did once graceless act, Nor pet illusion ever broke For want of woman's tact. Fair women were my idols e'er; Sweet maids have I known well, But never one, where soul more fair, In fairer shape did dwell. White soul the Roman bard would call The spirit in your breast. And this expression — all in all Portrays its pureness best. To a Lady on her Birthday. 225 As years roll on, we two shall roam O'er many a sea and land, But I shall always feel it home Where I can hold your hand. 2 26 Poems ivritten in Devonshire. A TALE OF TWO COLLEGES. [An Echo from Cheltenham.] She'd big, brave eyes of tender blue, The maiden at " The Ladies' College," And wavy hair of some soft hue, The maiden at " The Ladies' College," A mouth for love and laughter meet, A voice for song and soothing sweet, Her very trip was exquisite, The maiden at " The Ladies' College." This maiden oft I chanced to see. In days when I was at " The College," And yet I swear was nought to me. In days when I was at "The College." Eyes were but eyes, however blue. Hair simple hair, whate'er the hue, If she were fair I hardly knew In days when I was at "The College." A Tale of Tivo Colleges. 227 I wooed a coy "Eleven Cap,"* In days when I was at " The College," "Won my " twin C's " t mid hack and rap, In days when I was at " The College." I dreamed of class-room victories, Of " coming through the scrimmages," Of " driving fours " and " cutting threes," In days when I was at " The College." Nous avons chang^. , . years ago — It may be ten — I left " The College," And other dreams more brightly glow Than boy-dreams, born when at "The College."' I care as much for " cutting threes," I like to look at " scrimmages," Put I would give the world to please That maiden at " The Ladies' College." * The badge of the Cheltenham College Cricket Eleven, t The badge of the Cheltenham College Football Fifteen. 2 28 Poems written in Devonshire. SYMPATHY. Deny you that your body ails ? Oh then it is your mind that pales : If Sickness darkens not your eye, Her foster-sister, Grief, is by. A gentle woman not a weak, No trifle blenches your brave cheek ; A Spartan of the Christian strain, Despise you only your own pain. I cannot share your pain or woe, Until its source you'd have me know ; Nor may I, what I feel, express Till lips as well as looks confess. Sympathy. 229 But you have read my sympathies In the mute message of my eyes, Although you knew not that your pains Awoke in me the kindred strains. 230 Poems written in Devonshire. SEASONS. His Spring ! The hedge, which ran beside His father's cottage-door, was gay — He was a village boy, bright-eyed — With snowy blossoms of the May. His Summer ! Round his bungalow The plantain with the palm would vie — He was a famous soldier now — In tropic grace and greenery. His Autumn ! Was it not their Spring ? The Wattle's golden wealth of bloom — The strong man now was mellowing — Was brought by children to his room. Seasons. 2 3 1 His Winter ! The old hero stood Once more beside the boughs of May : And snow there was upon the wood, But then the blossoms were away. 232 Poems written in Devojishire. THE TWO SPIRITS. [Or, Optimist and Pessimist.] Two spirits, one of Hope and one of Care, Flew 'neath the self-same roof; One's garment was of black and chill night air, The other's of sun-woof One brought the warmth and light into the room Upon the bleakest days ; The other threw a shade of chill and gloom Athwart the sun's own rays. The spirits, she of Care and he of Hope, Loved one another well, Although no reader of the horoscope Dared such a love foretell. The Two Spirits. 233 They clung but did not blend : the robe of dun Upon the back of Care Could not be patch-worked with the woven sun, Which he of Hope must wear. Now it was night ; and then the star of pain The joyous sun outshone : Now it was day ; and in the light again The evil star had gone. In some soft twilight in the latter days May this strange pair be dight, Without the dazzle of the sun-robe's rays, Nor yet as dark as night. 2 34 Poems written in Devo7isJiire. THE HOUR OF PRAYER. Whenever the Poet heard the hour Chimed from the neighbouring belfry tower, He bowed his head to pray. Held he that some mysterious power In words then uttered they ? Or was it this that the striking chime Reminded him of the flight of time, And life that ebbed away, Or church bells ringing at matin-prime. And noon and close of day ? He did remember some legend old, In which were mystical virtues told Of pray'r at chime of hour, And thought how swiftly life's current rolled, When spoke each antique tower. The Hour of Prayer. 235 And hearing hours from the belfry chime Reminded him of the olden time, When pious mass was sung And bell for pray'r at each day's prime And noon and close was rung. Not often the Poet knelt to pray In churches during the Sabbath day, But while he heard the chime Peal from the belfry, he turned alway And gave to God the time. Whether it was that the striking chime Reminded him of the flight of time, And life that ebbed away, Or church bells ringing at matin-prime, And noon and close of day. 236 Poems written in Devonshire. A LEGEND OF THE SABBATH. There is a legend old, which says That God comes down on Sabbath days A little nearer earth. And posts His angels in the ways To gather deeds of worth. It did mayhap originate In some old preacher's pious pate, His people to induce One day a week to consecrate Unto religious use. For, thinking God was nearer earth And angels' questing deeds of worth, They sanctified this day Alike from labour and from mirth To do good deeds and pray. A Legend of the Sabbath. 237 The legend may be true or no ; Good men believed it long ago, And profited thereby, If once a week they acted so As if their God was nigh. We live in an enlightened age And war on superstition wage. And yet no better do Than those who hearing this adage Believed it to be true. 2 ■^S Poems written in DcvonsJmx. THE LOST POEM. December 31st, 1884. It was the death-night of the year ; The night was frost-begemmed and clear ; The Poet in his study sate, And cried, " Upon this magic night A ghttering poem will I write To make my name for ever great.'' The Poet in his study sate Prepared to woo his Genius late And watch the crowding thoughts appear, While, echoing through the frosty air, In clear voice should the chimes declare The dying moments of the year. The Lost Poem. 239 He watched the crowding thoughts appear, And looked forth on the dying year, And saw the moon illume the trees ; The stars were vigilant on high, A low wind from the sea did sigh. And bells were borne upon the breeze. He saw the moon illume the trees, And heard the murmur of the seas ; Already seemed his Genius by ; The nearer silence, distant bells. Clear frost and starry sentinels All waked the soul of Poesy. Already seemed his Genius by, When Beauty with her pleading eye Soft-stealing to the Poet's side, Sat on a footstool at his feet. As richly, confidently sweet As though she were his wedded bride. 240 Poems written in DevoitsJiire. Soft-stealing to the Poet's side, She wistfully his glances eyed, Her face transfigured by the fire, Her clear cheek spirit-touched, her hair Shot-sungold in its flickering glare, Her mien instinct with sweet desire. Her face, transfigured by the fire. Was raised to deprecate his ire ; Her hands upon his knee she clasped, And looked at him as if to say, " Be gracious to me if you may. Love's fetters on these hands are hasped." Her hands upon his knee she clasped, And in her thrall his soul she grasped ; A moment was there struggle keen, Between the shapes that crowded round, Waiting with language to be crowned, And her — the crowned by Beauty queen. The Lost Poem. 241 A moment was there struggle keen, Then the shapes vanished, for his queen Opened her Hps — 'twas but to kiss — The ring upon her fair hand set. As love-knot, keep-sake, amulet When she had promised to be his. Opened her Hps— 'twas but to kiss — When, taking both her hands in his, He rose beside her, with his eyes Deep-fathoming the liquid blue. To sound the sweet soul whence he drew Love in mute eloquent replies. He rose beside her, with his eyes Afire with love and sweet surprise, But with the hauntive look, which told The seer of shapes beyond the ken Of unitiated men. Already from his visage rolled, Q 242 Pos77is written in Devonshire. But with the hauntive look, which told That he could mysteries unfold, Replaced by that ecstatic gaze, Which says that fear nor fire nor death Will move him, while he draws his breath, From the rapt worship, which he pays. A Letter from Gordon. 243 PATRIOTIC POEMS. A LETTER FROM GORDON. [Dated Sept. 9th 1884— quoted im the Despatch from Lord Wolseley to Sir E. Baring, dated Nov. 29TH 1884.] Dated the ninth of September — Khartoum — A letter from Gordon — what had he to say ? It reads Hke a presage of comnig doom, " While you are all feasting and sleeping away, With us it is nothing but watch and fight, Both soldiers and servants, by day and night." " Yes ! we can hold out four months — and then ? ' Why our hearts are weary with this delay : ' How many times have we written for men ? How many times have ye — not said nay, But thought not of answer to those who fight For Egypt — aye England — by day and night. 244 Poems written in Devonshire. *■ A handful of English, — and war will cease, The Arab return to his tents again, And the fellah from here to the sea have peace ; If you send them not now, you must send them then : A handful of English — without delay — O ye who are feasting and sleeping all day." Verse 2, line 2, is a literal translation from Gordon's letter. (ijiL -^-M L<^^JLi^ — d ^'/ r^y^C'^' Cfc. J^^ cry ^■.-^— P^^ -^ ^^^ P raying for Gordon. 245 PRAYING FOR GORDON. [In the Churches of England, Sunday Feb. 8th, 1885.] Praying for Gordon — if in Khartoum, Waiting, we know, in his vaHant way At an instant's notice to meet his doom, A man who has walked with his God ahvay. With God for his country, who stood at bay Forsaken in Africa far away. Surely God would not forsake his own. Even though praying there had been none ; But He has promised when two or three x\re gathered together, with them to be : And our prayers are rising to heaven, we hope. But our thoughts are straying across the sea To the handful of English sent out to cope With a barbarous foe in a far off land, Wearied with marching on burning sand, And weak with the wounded of Abou Klea, But strong in the spirit which aye has brought, On many a doubtful and desperate day. The "thin red line," when it stood at bay. To hold the " positions," for which it fought. 246 Poems written in Devonshire But hear us, Father, while we pray For those in peril on the land, As thou of late heardst those who be On land, when we were on the sea,* Voyaging past the Red Sea coast. Abreast of the beleaguered host, Hear us and stretch a shielding hand Over thy servant— if in Khartoum, Waiting, we know, in his valiant way At an instant's notice to meet his doom, As ready to face his God a^ the fray. Written a few months after the Author's return from Australia by the Red Sea route. I A >_, , (a/M- oL<y^ a^~ Gordon is Dead. 247 GORDON IS DEAD. Gordon is dead in Khartoum, Dead ere deliverance came, Ready we know for his doom, Yet the disgrace is the same ; Those, who his mission decreed, Failed him in hour of his need. Who is to blame for his death ? He whose hand opened the gate? He whose ball robbed him of breath ? No ! those w^ho left him to fate ; Until the voice of the land Thundered too loud to withstand. 248 Poeins zvritten in Devonshire. Toss in your timorous sleep, Ye, who had left him to die. Ye and the women may weep, England awaits your reply. " Where is your brother," cries she. Answer as Cain did, will ye ? Had we no soldiers to send ? Had we no ships on the sea ? Had we not wealth without end ? Did ye not know what would be ? One thing we had not to spare, Gordons, like this one, to dare. Now we have no one to save, But we must fight for prestige: Gordon, the bravest of brave. Could have been saved from his siege. With but a tithe of the men, Had they been sent to him then. Gordon is Dead. 249 Yes ! we must fight till we win, Lest the old pride of our name, Carried from Spain to Pekin, Lose the fresh gloss of its fame : And the dark infidel boast, That he has conquered our host. " England expects " . . and our men All do their duty we know, Heedless of " where " and of " when " — Once let them march on the foe ; " England expects others too, States?nen their duty to do." I a.<_<_^i^ A «- 1 (k^^ (A(M/ 250 Poems written in Devonshire. "ADVANCE, AUSTRALIA!" [To THE UNFEDERATED COLONIES OF AUSTRALIA WHO ARE SENDING Troops to the Soudan.] A SOUND from the shimmering towns On AustraHa's strand ; A sound from the sheep-studded downs In the heart of the land ; 'Tis a sound they have heard not before, 'Tis the voice of the Spirit of War. To hardship and peril inured Is the bush-pioneer. Who thirst at its worst hath endured, And who dreads not the spear Of the native who lurks in the pass. Or the fang of the snake in the grass. ' ' Advance A ustralia. " 2 5 1 Enamoured of pleasure and ease, Is the dweller in town, Of sports in the sun and the breeze, Till the darkness comes down. Of dances and dreamy delight In the balmier air of the night. But no bushman will stay with his sheep On the far away downs, And his pleasure no lounger shall keep In the shimmering towns Whom Australia has summoned to go To the war on her Motherland's foe. O land of the vine-hidden hill And the wide-growing wheat, Where only Peace lingereth still In the track of our feet, We rejoice that the Spirit of Pride In caresses of Peace hath not died. 252 Poems written in Devonshire. O land of the gold garnished reef And the sheep-studded plain, 7'hou dost not forget us in grief Or forsake us in pain : O land of the wool and the wine, And the corn and the gold, we are thine. II. An evil more deadly than war For the free to deplore, Is loss of the spirit which fills Wild morasses and hills With that feeling of home, that made bold The Scot and the Switzer of old. The mother of nations is she And the friend of the free ; Till free men have fought for one cause, Not a legion of laws Can an Athens or England create Though its rulers declare it a state. Advance Australia^ 253 III Go forth, O, our children, and prove That the peace of the skies Which shine on the land that you love Hath not weakened your eyes For the glare of the lightning which plays Where the soldier must gather his bays. Go forth from your east and your west, From your north and your south, Be the best in the battle your best, Share each peril and drouth That when back in Australia again. You the comrades of camp may remain. Is envy to silence her voice. And your empire to come ? It will be when the rivals rejoice Over honour brought home, And lament over comrades in doom Who may fall in the breach at Khartoum. 2 54 Poems written in Devojislm-e. WAITING FOR WAR. APRIL 1885. Yes, we are waiting for war, Not in old England alone Svvelleth the ominous roar, Oft in the centuries known, But from our sons overseas Echoes are borne on the breeze. — - (^i c/^aA-C Thought ye the blood of the North Beat in our pulses no more. The storm-loving blood which sent forth Rollo and William of yore. The blood of the race who were gods, In scorn of what men reckon odds ? I Waiting for War. 255 II. We slept till the Muscovite deemed That the Berserking spirit had died, But while we were sleeping we dreamed Of our deeds in the days of our pride, And now with a wrench for the rust Our sword from its scabbard is thrust. We've wealth for the sinews of war, We've hunger that heroes creates, We've waited till Patience no more Could palter with foes at the gates. And now we are ready to fight, With hearts that clear conscience makes light. 256 Poojis IV r it ten in Devonshire. III. Yes, we are longing to fight. '^^^^ ^^ ij>^ / Peace, with her tortuous ways, Robs the upright of his right, Lost in diplomacy's maze Much have we been, but we know How to hit out at a foe. Soldier and stayer-at-home. Sailor and settler-abroad, Yearn on that pathway to roam. Oft by our ancestors trod. Which through the battle-field leads Either to death or great deeds. ^ -f/v^/.c>?:, -^ — -^ U c^ Gordon of Khartoum. 257 GORDON OF KHARTOUM. A HERO he, born out of his due time In this peace-grubbing, trade and taxes age, A man more fit to dignify the page Of Sophocles or glitter in the rhyme Of him who drew Horatius — too sublime For Birmingham_and Chelsea— fit to wage ^{'^-"-^^ '■ ^'^'- A war to save a people's heritage, '^' ^^^'"-^ / A . f/ *^ To lead the Scots and Switzers in their prime Against the great-limbed conqueror of Wales Or Burgundy's Bold Duke. To Italy, Where pride not yet nor patriotism fails, Thy Mother should have borne thee to outvie The men who built the nation, which we see, Which has been Rome and Rome again may be. R 258 Poems written in Devonshire. TO OUR CHILDREN. " Advance Australia ! " Canada advance To stand beside you mother 'mid the roar Of battle in the desert. Only war Can forge a nation : Germany and France Had to engage with all their puissance Ere Germany was unified once more ; The conquest of Granada came before' Spain's splendour : but for Salamis perchance Athens had borne no story and no song : Great singers of great actions are the fruit, As witness Chaucer after Poictiers, And Shakspere the Armada : now, ere long, A nation in Australia shall root, An Austral ^schylus attune his lay. Eiig land a nd A I hens. 259 ENGLAND AND ATHENS. I. Khartoum has gone : Kassala too must go To show the world that England, if not yet By statute a republic, can forget Her allies as republics long ago. Veered by each puff of party that might blow. Above, below, within, without, — have set An infamous example. Great the debt Not for her writers only, that we owe. To Athens. She has taught us that a state Of warlike men whose greatness sprung from war, In commerce and free institutions great. May, by an /Kschincs beguiled, deplore Freedom and empire lost alike while he Rises upon the ruin of the free. ., ^..■^^^ ^A^'h-^^ — ^^^ 26o Poems wriite7i in Devonshire. II. Athens, an old-world queen of liberty Enslaved in name of Freedom ! Is not she, A voice from Fate to England : on the sea Her navies swept imperial : she could vie With the world's fleets united ; could defy The menace of the nations : she was free But lost her freedom when she came to be Pitted against a despot-enemy Who met the feeble, vacillating sword Of men who fought for self and party first And commonweal and country afterward, With his unwavering phalanxes, that burst Upon the long-effete Hellenic world Like thunderbolts from Mount Olympus hurled. Engla7id and A thcns. 2 6 1 III, Athens and Carthage ! What high-hearted boy, Who reads of antique Greece and Italy On history's page, but breathes a generous sigh, When Rome and Sparta triumph, thrills with joy When Hector does a doughty deed for Troy, And Hannibal and Conon light the sky, Darkling to night, with fires of victory. While Fate their homes advances to destroy ? Athens and Troy and Carthage ! We love all For their brief empire-splendour. But we can Scarce find a sigh for Athens' second fall Before the youthful Macedonian In ardour fresh his mission to fulfil, While she was impotent for good or ill. 262 Poems wiHtten in DevoiisJiire. TO ENGLAND, ON THE VERGE OF WAR WITH RUSSIA. Imperial England, have thou no alarms ! Not if all Europe look on thee askance, If war be hurled by Russia, hate by France, When, at thy first reveillee, spring to arms Thy children unseduced by safety's charms In far-off isles, and those who wielded lance Against thee erst, unsummoned, now advance To fight beneath thy flag in dusky swarms. Old Europe grimly smiles to see each whelp, From the bright South to frozen Labrador, Couching to leap across the sea to help The Lion, when he rolls his battle-roar, And hails the art of Hannibal, in those Who fill their armies from old Indian foes. Heroitm Filii. 26.3 o HEROUM FILII. DEDICATED TO THE "SCOTS GREYS." I. O LET me tread in these degenerate days The battle-fields where our forefathers hewed The fashion of our greatness, — oft imbued With torrents of red blood, I know, their bays, With shrieks of anguish often blent their praise. With tax and tallage, every year renewed, The land too often groaning in the feud Of feudal lords or kings' succession-frays. Give us the want, the bloodshed and the tears If we may have the glory ! Poictiers Recalls to me its triumi)h not its cost, And Balaclava not the anxious fears Of child and wife and mother far away, But the grey chargers ploughing through a host. 264 Poems written in Devonshire. II. Degenerate days of statesmen not of men ! From Burnabys and Beresfords to clowns Fresh from the plough and gamins from great towns, In heat and peril, weariness and pain, They prove them English of the ancient strain Who on the fields of Picardy won crowns, And smote the Russian on Crimean Downs, And rode with Nelson monarchs on the main. O happy brother-Teutons, you who have The man, the giant of the iron will To guard the greatness of your Fatherland, Unmoved by hate of Gaul or wile of Sclav, And with his thunder Party's voice to still When it is raised against the patriot's hand. Pericles. 265 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. PERICLES. He gave its title to the golden prime Of Athens, called the Age of Pericles ; He left a name for arts of war and peace Scarce-rivalled in two thousand years of time ; But not for this doth he illumine rhyme Above all heroes of historic Greece ; But that when power might pall or cares might cease, He lived in love as sunny as his clime. Surely he was of all men happiest. The greatest of his country and his ago, And privileged to pillow on the breast Of that most famous of Eve's family. Whose name is writ upon Romance's page, Aspasia of ambrosial memory. 2 66 Poems luritten m Devonshire. MARGARET OF SCOTLAND. There's magic in the name of Margaret, The sweetest sound in Scotland, though the two Best-worshipped Margarets she ever knew Were English : one is saint of Scotland yet. The other we pourtray with lashes wet For him her countrymen at Flodden slew, And found, his mail arust with autumn dew, 'Mid bishop, earl, and doughty banneret Upon the morrow-morning. Yet for me The name wakes not the Scots' kings' English queens Widowed by English arrows, but the glee, Blue eyes, and glittering hair and proud sweet miens Of two of Scotland's daughters — born afar From Tweed or Aln — 'neath the southern star. Platonic Love. 267 PLATONIC LOVE. I. I HAVE not read what Plato writ of love, But love Platonic is it not like this, To feel thyself with all enough of bliss If thou canst with the one companion rove, No matter where — alone in cool alcove Or in a crowded room — to choose to miss A warm caress from beauty, a rich kiss From passion's daughter rather than remove From this one's side, to have no care but hers, No joy complete till she has shared it too, To be the fondest of her worshippers. But never think or speak of love or do Other than brother fond of brother might, Whom tastes as well as kindred veins unite ? 268 Poems written in Devonshire. II. I have a friend — of love we never speak, — Love in the human meaning of the word, — Not that our pulses are not gaily stirred Whene'er we meet, not that we do not seek Our company from end to end of week, And when we part feel like the Eastern bird, Of which old ornithologists averred That when its mate was lost it turned its beak Into its breast. Presence is paradise. And absence exile — light-of-hearts like we Know not a hell. A pearl beyond a price Is it for us to roam beside the sea, Or on the free moors all a summer day. With care and every human face away. Platonic Love. 269 III. And now, sweet friend ! thou wilt be here again, There never was a maiden whom I loved. Whose coming back to me so strangely moved My being as thou movest it. We twain Are matched so deftly in our mind's domain : In all the divers places, where we roved, The same sights caught our fancy, and we proved Our perfect sympathy, when we were fain Night after night within one room to sit. As busily we worked, though scarce we spoke Or raised an eye, but at our note-books writ. Till "Twelve" with its "to-bed" the stillness broke. When two in silence can together spend Delicious evenings, each has won a friend. 270 P 06771$ written in Devonshire. WIFE-LOVE. I, That woman should endure the pain of pains For any man, should spend the weary weeks Weighed down, half crippled, lie with hollowed cheeks, And wounded long days more, ere she attains The power for most ordinary strains Of household life, — that she is willing speaks For her devotion, more than he, who seeks In annals of a hundred heroines, gains. That one in all the pride and health of youth Should court a bed of sickness, chance of death, And weeks of pain, declares the noble truth Of woman's love and courage, as the breath Of all the bards who ever sang her praise Could not, declaiming till the end of days. Wife- Love. 271 II. Consider her returned to health once more, The bright, defiant hoyden of old times, Who would not list to love — no not in rhymes — And trampled victims cruelly, who wore Her beauty as a burden, since it bore Its train of courtship:). See how love sublimes, And suffering softens ! How each comer climbs Straight to her heart, with no more cunning lore Than kissing baby cheeks, or calling smiles To baby lips, or dwelling on the growth And promise of the loveliness which wiles All eyes towards its mother. Wise in troth Was old Anacreon, when as babe he drew The Love-God who his shelterer overthrew. 272 Poems written in Devonshire. INFANCY. When we recall the myriad accidents Which babe-life threaten, marvel is it great That they have ever come to man's estate, Who won great wars or carved out continents ! Napoleon, for all his regiments, Was once a little helpless child, whose fate Lay balanced in his nurse's love and hate : A chill at Cromwell's birth had changed events. As Rupert could not, and his cavaliers, In half-a-dozen battles. When we think How surfeit or starvation, heat or cold. Neglect, unwary diet — not for years But hours — will sweep the infant o'er the brink, The marvel is that any man grows old. Kfti( te|. , ^in/^ i/j — >vi.^— i-t^-^/'M^ On a Dead Infant. 2 7 on 1 ON A DEAD INFANT. Dead that two brothers should not disagree ! Poor babe ! Thy brief experience of earth Knew little of its beauty and its worth, But yet thou didst fulfil a destiny, In that thou wouldst not come 'twixt him and me. Ten weeks of wintry weather from thy birth. And then thou soaredst where there is no dearth Of sun and southern air and sympathy. O may no cloud, though smaller than a hand, Arise again between us, lest once more God should from us some sacrifice demand Like this, which thus untimely we deplore. We are amenable to Providence Although we understand not in what sense. 2 74 Poems ivritten in DevonsJiire. BOB. [Written on an Infant's Grave in the Torquay Cemetery.] This was the child of hope: about his birtli Fair portents shone, recorded that they might, When he had won his name, be brought to light, And men might read the promise of his worth In all that heralded his dawn on Earth, And from his cradle fame begin to write. But after a brief sojourn took he flight Before he knew so much as grief or mirth. High hopes are buried underneath this stone. Where lies a child begotten overseas. Who never breathed in that serener zone Where, even in the winter, cooling breeze Is welcome to the joyous folk who fare Free and contented in the sunny air. Too Late. 275 TOO LATE, Whom has it not befallen at a ball That some shy maid, he did not note till late And briefly danced with, should by some ill fate Be she who most attracted him of all : And so in friendships will it oft befall : Some one for weeks has been your constant mate, In day-walks and night-talks inseparate, In all you minded, sympathetical, And yet the closing link of sympathy To make the two ends of your bond to meet Your vigilance has cheated, till well nigh Your intercourse's season has passed by ; And then you see how passingly more sweet This intercourse had been, if thus complete. V-C c(,^ >i^« .' ^ c1 -f U^/\.^Ji 276 Poems written in Devonshire. CATHEDRALS. I. You, our Cathedral who would view aright, Think not you saw it in the hurried look, Which, waiting for a train, perchance you took. Or in one day devoted to the sight. There is a something of the infinite In Gothic minsters caught, which will not brook A dilettanti visit ; every nook Is rich with some religion recondite ; Pillar and groin and corbel and keystone Are eloquent. The architect may be, Testing each course and column one by one, Some glimmer of the mystery may see. Or the grey dean, whose life for many a year As chanter, curate, canon, hath been here. Cathedrals, 277 II, Choose you to know our minster as they do ? Go dwell beneath the shadow of its walls, Seek it at matins, and when even falls. And, while the flood of music thrills it through From porch to lady-chapel, fondly view The old-world carving on the canons' stalls, Where favoured thou mayst sit, or finials Upon some baron's tomb, and note the hue Which glass took in the third King Henry's reign, The delicacy of the tracery Which held it in the windows, and rich stain And symbolism spent in days gone by Upon the rood-screen, and then, wondering, glance, Over the nave's vast pillars and expanse ' 2/8 Poems written in DevonsJiire. III. So mayst thou learn, when many a chaunted psahn Hath risen from thy lips, and many a time Knee hast thou bowed beneath the roof sublime, To know the stones not only, but the calm And mystic atmosphere which yields the charm In places, where pray'r hath not ceased to climb Up heaven's altar-steps, and bells to chime Summons of joy or worship or alarm For twenty generations. Only those Who spend their lifetime on it know a thing : Who lives outside at best can say he knows " Of it " not " it," for all his studying : But "knowing of" not " knowledge" must suffice For men in daily labour's iron vice. I Exeter CathedraL 279 EXETER CATHEDRAL. Not greatest of our minsters is the fane Of Exeter, but dear it is to me As the first fresh one, which I chanced to see (Though I had been to Westminster again And huge St Paul's) since 1 recrossed the mam. From the New England in the Southern Sea, Where ancient minsters are not. Royally It rises up, with tracery, rich pane And sculptured niches glorious its west, And Norman towers its centre, and its east Inside with antique tomb of knight and priest, Rood-screen and bishop's throne. And by me stands She whom I think of many maids the best, A pilgrim, like myself, from Austral lands. 2 So Poems written in Devonshire. COCKINGTON LANES, NEAR TORQUAY. Rare afternoon in an October rare ! We passed red cliffs environing blue seas, Red lanes with green banks bounded and elm -trees ; The sky was clouded lightly ; soft the air And fresh and soft the breezes ; the rich glare Of red and green was almost Cinghalese, Recalling for the traveller reveries Of red-tiled roofs and palm-tree groves, so fair To unaccustomed eyes ; but soon the green Of elms with linden-yellow, hawthorn-red, And marvellous horse-chestnut-orange sheen Was tempered, and once more 'twas mine to tread The merry, crackling leaves — a sound scarce known In ever-green Australia's milder zone. A Walk in Sprmg. 281 A WALK IN SPRING. [From Torquay to Marldon.] Spring's many voices — cawing of the rooks, Bleating of lambs, the blackbird's clucking note. The echo from the teamster's sturdy throat, The babble of the rain-replenished brooks. Spring's cheerful sights — the flowers in their nooks In wood and bank, the fields in their new coat Of fresh-ploughed red, the squirrel perched remote, The student lured by sunshine from his books. Such hear I, such I see the day I go Across the hills to Marldon, snowdrops here To light the eye, and on each fresh-ploughed row A parliament of rooks to greet the ear. Until the turning road before me flings. The grey old Church gay in five hundred springs. 282 Poems written m Devonshire. DEVONSHIRE. Broad county of deep hedge-rows and blown trees, With wild deer ranging on thine eastern heights, And salmon in thy spates, and rich in bights And wooded estuaries and pebbled quays. Elbowed against the western storms and seas ! Great mother of Elizabethan Knights, Who fought in frozen seas and famous fights, And bearing in thy quaint-named villages The impress of the Norman, as thou bearest The emblem of the Briton on thy moors ! Nor is this all thou boastest but the fairest Of mead and orchard, yielding oft-sung stores Of cream and cider — for thy wealth with fame As great as for wild beauty and high name. Bowood. 283 BOWOOD. [Near "Bideford in Devon."] A WHITE farm-house on Daddon hill's bluff crest, In true Devonian-wise environed round With deep-sunk lanes all honey-suckle-crowned, Walled in securely from the blusterous west, Whose wrath the trees, blown arbour-shape, confessed. Thou, with some ever-echoing homely sound Of cattle byre or barnyard, horse or hound, My soothing refuge wer't for thought or rest One cloudless August through. At sunset's hour A furlong from thy gateway, I could hear The wild wood-pigeon coo, and see the tower Of Abbotsham between the elm-tops peer, And, if the even were not overcast, Rough Lundy scarred with western wave and blast. 284 Poems written in Devonshire. II. Oft have I paused a moment at thy gate To watch the sun its seething scarlet steep In sea, and myriad rooks fly home to sleep, As I returned from pilgrimages late. From where King Hubba met with his red fate By men of Devon, or some ruined keep On Cornish headland threatening the deep. Or little haven, now of low estate. But whence, in days of great Elizabeth, The Grenvilles, Drakes and Raleighs issued forth In the swift gnats of ships, which stung to death The Spanish monsters, when they came in wrath To scourge with stake and sword the little realm That dared to doubt their power to overwhelm. Tor Steps. 285 TOR STEPS— A BRITISH BRIDGE NEAR EXMOOR. Tor Steps, — a relic of the ancient race Who ruled the land, a causeway of vast stones Built in the days of men with giants' bones And heroes' might, — thou standest in thy place After Time's storms have conquered to efface The Celt's and Saxon's, Dane's and Norman's thrones. Who knows if thou hast heard not ringing tones From Arthur, glowing with an Exmoor chace, Or rooting out some robber-prince, who made His fastness in the savage moorland combes, Or maybe with a gentle cavalcade Of ladies in rich silks from ancient looms ? The bridge stands : the brown river ripples on : But errant-knight and tourney-queen have gone. 2 86 Poems written in Devonshire. THE HERB-ROBERT. [Written Close to Ilsham Farm, Torquay, in Winter.] Herb-Robert, wherefore Robin of the flowers ? Because thou art their Red-breast, red in leaves And blossoms, when the latest of the sheaves Have long been garnered and ere April showers Have tilled the womb of May and she embowers All Nature. Not the glow on summer eves, Just ere the sea the setting sun receives, Can shame the crimson, which in autumn hours Flows through thy fronds, and thy wee pink-tinged bloom, Amid the darkness of November days, Serves with its small light to dispel the gloom — Its small light hardly noticed mid the blaze Of huge bright summer-blossoms — as sick room Is cheered by humble folk with kindly ways. The Beech Tree. 287 THE BEECH TREE. [Written after a drive from Berry Pomeroy TO Torquay, in Autumn.] Give me of all our English trees the beeches, Upright, smooth stemmed, and shapely in their spread Of leafy boughs, in summer rairaented In glossy green and, when November preaches His warning to the failing year in speeches Of gust and frost, so gloriously red That all the hollows where the leaves lie dead. Rival the glow of crimson on tlie peaches In hothouse reared. Not for fair stem and leaves We praise thee only ! have we not, when boys, Declared thy nuts superior to the joys Of walnuts fenced securely ? Have not eves Of chilly Christmases mid London fogs Been transformated by thy blazing logs ? 2 88 Poems zuriiten in Devonshire. THE SONNET'S SCANTY PLOT. Y What are t he sonnet's province ? Not conceits On trivial themes from classic fable brought, And tricked in phrases studiously sought From Spenser and, his brother bee-hive, Keats, But portraits of the spectacle which meets The poet's eye, when such a fight is fought Or such a glimpse of such a glory caught Or when some tale of fire his fury heats. Sonnets should seize the floating thought or sight And fix it like the graphic plate which takes The impress of the image in the light And, with long pains developed after, makes The features or the landscape, which it scanned In Nature's breadth, yet truth of detail, stand. 1_ ^^ diy^ ^ ^Mr^y^i^i/? 'Vy^i'Ml ^^^i^ ^'P^^o^ / (?Wu fiiAJU '^^h-i^ The Somiet's Scanty Plot. 289 II. And therefore Wordsworth's sonnets do we love, Wholesome and hearty, simple and direct ; He strove not after mystical effect, Nor divers hues in patchwork interwove, Which rival not the plumage of the dove. So perfect in its prism, but the specked And garish clothes which savages select When the trade-schooner runs into a cove Of coral isles. He tells us what he felt — / JiSiM-- '^■' A simple man with open sympathy — \ L0. (fX^-^ Seeing the morning haze from London melt, Or gating on the glorious tracery Of " King's," or sitting by his cottage fire, ^ A king himself for satisfied desire. 4,^ 290 Poems written in Devonshire. OXFORD, THE GRAND UNDOER. I. Oxford, the Grand Undoer, thou dost cost More than thou yieldest those who tread thy stones, Not unforgetful of the men, whose bones Have lain long ages in their bodies' dust But who were once the glory and the trust Of college, then of country — more than once Of country first, — if then, as at the nonce. The man, who academic honours lost, Was laying the foundations of a name More lasting than a roll of scholarships, A fellowship, and medals — or the fame. Which halos a great teacher of the hour, To undergo perpetual eclipse Upon the rise of some new teaching power. Oxford, the Grand Undoer. 291 II. Oxford, the Grand Undoer, thou undoest The men, who in their ordinary sphere Might have made many a hundred pounds a year As merchants, lawyers, doctors, whom thou wooest To this of true aesthetic Hves the truest— The quest of knowledge free from any care If golden fruit or not this knowledge bear — These, when to true disciples thou suhduest, Thou takest from their own broad, beaten path To wander in the pleasaunces, where they Cull neither first-fruits nor the after-math. But only wander with an aimless pleasure, Losing at every hour and turn their way, And finding nought of the too-scanty treasure. 292 Poems written in Devo7tskire. Ill Oxford, the Grand Undoer ! he, on whom Thou layest the enchantment of thy rule, Can never settle to an office-stool But with the feeling of a living tomb, Or give his thoughts and industry in gloom Of London courts to ledger work, or school His mind, attuned to antique cloisters cool In Oxford, to a hot and whirring room, With vast machines and hands-in-hundreds filled. He has lived the life of Oxford and can ne'er The fairy castles in his brain unbuild ; And, though 'mid looms and ledgers he may sit, His heart and fancy never will be there But to the country of his castles flit. Oxfo7'd, the Gi'and Unaoer. 293 IV. Oxford, the Grand Undoer — whom indeed Undost thou not? The giants of their kind, The men who have such mastery of mind That the world stops to Hsten or to read Their pregnant words, of pregnant work the seed. In ordinary callings of mankind Such men would waste their powers, would not find The where-withal of food their minds to feed. These Oxford calls from following their sheep To intellectual thrones. By her not found Their mighty intellects would eat, drink, sleep, And die within their sheep-folds, and the world Would know not of the royal heads uncrowned The oriflamraes of genius unfurled. 294 Poems written in Devonshire. Oxford is not a school for little men, But training ground, where men of giant mould / May the full powers of their frames unfold, At best a lottery where few may gain Aught but the paltriest prizes, or attain To heights where they may strike a bee-line bold Unto the goal, which in their minds they hold. The rest must linger in the thick-scrubbed plain Where, if they leave the common beaten track, They lose themselves — too lucky if they can Win by supremest efforts their way back. Oxford is but a school for drudge and king. For him no king, and yet no common man. She hath but little in her hand to bring. Dedication of '' A SiLinmer Christmas!' 295 ADDENDA. THE DEDICATION OF "A SUMMER CHRISTMAS." [To Mrs George Cawston.] To You, with whom I wandered oft, Ere overseas swift ship I took, Where Ingleborough looms aloft Or in a Surrey orchard-nook, To You I dedicate this book. For Wattle, though I sang not Oak, And Austral creek not English brook, Yet English hearts love English folk. 296 Addenda, To You beneath whose roof so oft, Ere overseas swift ship I took, Upon the ball-room skirmish soft 'Twixt brave and fair 'twas mine to look, To You I dedicate this book. Though later southern beauty woke Chords which my deepest heartstrings shook, Yet English hearts love English folk. To You the friend to whom so oft, Ere overseas swift ship I took, Heroes I sang on hills aloft And wooers in a woodland nook. To You I dedicate this book. Though myths of stranger lands I spoke And for strange lands my own forsook. Yet English hearts love English folk. Dedication of '' A Simimer ChiHstinas!'' 297 Envoy. To You I dedicate this book, And Wattle though I sang not Oak And Austral creek not EngHsh brook, Yet English hearts love English folk. 298 Addenda. THE STARRY SISTERS. Glorious is that which dazzles from afar, And mystery enthralls. Astronomy, Can she with her poetic sister vie, Who read by patient watching of a star Not size and distance only but the war Of fortunes good and evil ? Do we buy, With knowledge which will brook no augury, A recompense for thirst men had of yore In drinking from their futures ? Jupiter Retains his borrowed brightness, Mars his hue Of soldier-red, but vanished from our view The Horoscope and grey astrologer. Though from the discrowned science great men drew High inspiration in the days that were. Forsters " JMidas!' 299 FORSTER'S " MIDAS." Finished, in the rough only, on the day that the Author the Hon. Wm. Forster, sometime Premier OF New South Wales, died. Finished the task, but then the writer's term Was finished with it. Feebly had his hand Writ the last words when to the shadowy land He passed across, not with old age infirm But having long within him borne the germ Of sudden death. For else he would have scanned Each line and word most critically, banned Each loose idea, awkward phrase, ill form. But, Reader, hold it sacred what he writ. For hardly dry the writing when he died, And therefore not he only uttered it But death within him. Words thus sanctified 'Twere sacrilege to alter or omit ; As death hath ordered, so it should al)ide. 300 Addenda. TO SIR SAMUEL WILSON, OF HUGHENDEN MANOR, BUCKS, AND ERCILDOUNE, AUSTRALIA. Often by hostile critics carped at erst You have lived down their censure. Now you stand Known through the length and breadth of this great land As one who toils for England's greatness first Nor place and profit afterward, who durst, When patriot hopes were low and hearts were fanned By slander's breath to fury, join the band, Of constant men that braved the wild outburst Of wrath and hate by fickle millions hurled. Yours is the steady purpose which has won History's giants their glory in the world : You proved its fibre 'neath a fiercer sun, Where Melbourne's hall * attests how well your will Tamed Austral wilds with wealth your hands to fill. * The Wilson Hall in the Melbourne University, the gift of Sir Samuel, is the finest building in Melbourne. To y . Henniker Heato7i. 301 TO J. HENNIKER HEATON, Esq. An enterprising and successful colonist of New South Wales, and a munificent contributor to the Patriotic Fund, with which she is supporting her contingent to the seat of war. SiMiLiNG, stout England sees her sons go forth To seek their fortunes o'er the southern main : It proves them worthy of the ancient strain Which salhed out to conquer from the North. And loves she, when they've well displayed their worth, To hold them to her bosom once again, Where, if their hearts beat high, they would remain Rather than in the softest air of earth. And Kent is proud of him who hewed his way In the new land so swiftly, who doth yet, Though his heart bids him in the old land stay, The home of his adoption not forget. But strains his purse to make her burden light While she sends sons in England's ranks to fight. 302 Addenda. PRIMROSE DAY. 'TwAS only the pale little Primrose, The pride of a glade in the wood ; Men gathered the blossom in April In the sweet of its primrosehood ; 'Twas pale and its fragrance was faint, But 'twas free as the snowfall from taint. 'Twas only the pale little Primrose, Not the pride of the hothouse, they chose. When under the blossoms of April The patriot passed to repose ; 'Twas humble, but all loved it well. And took it their feelings to tell. Primrose Day. 303 And England no\7 treasures the Primrose, As she treasures not even her Rose ; 'Tis the emblem of National Honour, Of Peace, without cringing to foes ; Thus even the wild flowers of sprim Their praise to the patriot bring. ig / ' 1 •• 304 Addenda. WAR. What meaneth the hum of the dockyards, the knightly old music of steel ? What meaneth the hum of the city, the tramp of the well-timed heel? What meaneth the banner of England from the stern of the mail-ship swung ? What meaneth the note of defiance with the voice of a people flung ? War. We hide not the sorrows of warfare, the widow, the want, and the woe ; We hide not the perils of warfare, the might of a resolute foe ; But our eyes are beginning to glitter as our fathers' flashed ages ago, When our Edwards went forth to their battles with the men of the bill and the bow. ©ptiiions of tbe press OF A SUMMER CHRISTMAS. The British Quarterly Review, January isi, 18S5, said:— Mr Sladen tells his storj' in a vigorous Hudibrastic verse, and he relieves It by stories from the lips of his friend. He does not claim that the work is a poem, but only a novel in verse : but certainly such pieces as " Odysseus in .^cheria, ban Sebastian," which is dramatic in the most exacting sense ol the word-and "Sappho," which is truly lyrical, may lay claim to being poems in themselves, and, as interludes, may lay claim to communi- cate something of poetic character and charm to the whole. For ourselves, we have read the latter piece with real enjoyment and appreciation of the music and delicate fancy which mark it. Many other portions of the volume might well claim more exhaustive notice, such as we cannot now give it. IJut we commend the volume to all who care for Chaucer-like presentment of character and situation, for humour and sly satire, for imagination and real power of portraiture." And the Morning Post, December -22)td, 18S4. _ Mr Sladen has written a great deal of verse, but his " Summer Christmas" IS by far the best thing he has done yet. The scene is laid at a sheep station in Australia, and the background is sketched in with much truth and vigour, the small animals and birds being introduced with the loving fidelity of a Prae-Raphaelite AH the characters are well drawn and distinct, from John Cobham the Man of Kent, down to Lachlan Smith; and the heroine Lil is a charming type of the Australian girl The shorter poems are far above the average, and the Homeric tales especially are full of interest. There are few faulty rhymes, and most of the verse is very sweet, particularly in "Sappho." From the Graphic, February zist, 1885. We have derived so much pleasure from " A Summer Christmas " by Douglas 15. W. Sladen (GrifTith, Farran & Co.), that it seems almost ungracious to take any exception, and indeed there is little calling for other than praise. Tl.e idea is a good one : a party of friends and relations assembled to keep Christmas at the Antipodes, determine to emulate the heroes and heroines of the "Decameron," but the scheme resolves itself into one of their number, the Professor, being appointed story-teller in ordinary, whilst the others choose his subjects. In this manner are intro- duced a series of romantic poems in various measures, though the heroic preponderates, all of them good, and some rising to a high order of merit Mr Sladen seems to be in his element in dealing with classical subjects— we like " Helen of Sparta" and "Odysseus" best of anything in the book- but at the same time he can do good work in other directions, as witness the story of Saida and the legend of Dunmail's Raise. In the setting of the poems the love episode of Lil and the Professor is graceful and sympathetic though their courtship was something of the shortest. Altogether the volume IS a very pleasant one. U Society, November i2>ui, 1884, says : — As the rhyme is above the average, and the story interesting, per se the final result is most pleasing. The scene is laid in Australia, and the descriptive writing is in manj: cases excellent; indeed the author is very modest in dubbing his work simply rhyme ; in many cases it rises to the height of true Poetry, and some of the stories, interspersed after the manner of "The Tales of the Wayside," are extremely graceful. The Dundee Advertiser, December iitk, 1884. The work is pleasantly written, and here and there we come upon some rather deft touches of character-painting. In the narrative itself all is pleasant, sincere, and natural, and therefore enjoyable ;_ while the poetic stories introduced after the manner of Boccaccio are pleasing. And the Edinburgh Courant, December \^th, 18S4. Mr Sladen's Australian Lyrics made him sure of a friendly hearing for any new work he might offer, and his " Summer Christmas," which also deals with Australian life, is worthy of the same hand. The story he tells required very little rhyme to set it off. And the Oxford University Herald, Januarj/ ^ist, 1885. The Homeric Episodes, of which there are three, especially please us : they are full of the very spirit of the Greek Poet, and of what MrLang, in one of his Sonnets, calls the " Surge and thunder of the Odyssey." All ungracious fault finding aside, we rise from our perusal of " A Summer Christmas" with feelings of the sincerest pleasure, and with a hearty wish to see some more of Mr Sladen's work in the same almost unworked and most interesting field. And the Daily Free Press, March i^th, 1885. The book is certainly one of high promise. Young Australia may well be proud of her rising bard, and Old England will welcome heartily the work of her wandering son. St Stephen's Review, January stsi, 1885 says: — His great merit is that he has a story to tell and knows how to tell it. And the Vigaro, April iZth, 1885. We can unhesitatingly thank him for his " novel in rhyme." And the Academy, March 21st, 1885. The pictures they afford of life on an Australian sheep-run are fresh and wholesome. The Author has some acute perception of character. Mr Sladen is, as we say, a fecund writer : but while he can give us fresh pictures of unfamiliar life, we shall not tire of his many books. And the Glasgow Herald. As a story, " A Summer Christmas " is interesting and enjoyable. And the Queen, February nth, 1885. Will be found entertaining. ^l«(///ie Anglo-New-Zealander, /a««<ir>' 16th, 1883. The book well pays perusal, and will no doubt be eagerly received, not only by Australians. OF A POETRY OF EXILES. The European Mail, February ■z'/tk, 1885, says: — The address to Australia is a really fine poem, and in many of the pieces which fill the volume are to be found force and pathos, music and thought, form and colour, to a degree that certainly elevates Mr Sladen infinitely above the giddy heads of those "minor minstrels," whom harsh and unfeeling critics like to damn effectually with the extinguishing irony of very " faint praise." Far otherwise is it, however, with Mr Sladen, whose present volume is thickly strewn with poetic beauties Mr Sladen has already won well-meritei fame with his "Australian Lyrics," and this very timely volume will undoubtedly add to his reputation. And the Westminster Review, October 1884. He has an eye for the picturesque, and reproduces the local colouring with some skill and success. His tone is manly and sensible, but his subjects are too numerous and varied, and many of them do not lend them- selves to poetic treatment at all. The descriptive sonnets give a vivid picture of Australian scenery. The Academy, of October zith, 1884. Recent I'erse. The poems in this little volume are distinctly ahead of anything that the author has hitherto published. With as much freshness of subject and as much ardour of feeling as characterised previous productions, they have more variety of theme, and more of the kind of descriptive writing which we want. What Mr Sladen, as an Australian colonist, can do better than another is to give to Enslishmen at home the impressions of an Englishman abroad, concerning a new country and strange habits of life. This can hardly be done through the medium of Norwegian legends or by trans- lations from Virgil. When the tailor poet in Kingsley's well-known story begins to exercise his gift of poetry, a practical-minded friend tells him that, if he must write, he will be wise to write about something that he knows. Some of our young poets would be seriously hampered by such advice, and totally silenced by such a necessity as it implies; but ^Ir Sladen has the advantage of knowing something. His descriptions of Australian scenery are often vivid, and we trust they are no less faithful than pictorial. The TEDiiRAL Ai;.stralian, May ^xst, 1884, satii: — Many of the short pieces are very complete, and indicate what Mr Sladen is capable of achieving. We are greatly pleased with such little poems as " The Plaint of the Prodigal Son," " Winter," and " The Poet's Message." And The South Australian Chronicle. It is thoroughly racy of the soil, and evidences that Mr Sladen has not lived amid the manif ild beauties of this new land of ours without deriving novel inspirations which lift above the level of the mere imitator. His poetry does not smell of the lamp ; it is fresh, bright and spontaneous, qualities that display the poet's actual communings with nature in her various moods, and his deep insight into her inner meaning. 4 OF AUSTRALIAN LYRICS. The Leader, March sth, 1883, said:— A charming simplicity both of expression and of idea, is their prominent characteristic, as might be expected of one who can say of Longfellow— " Was not his simple song Our sample of all song?" The themes to which he most frequently recurs are those which enable him to sing of home and family affections, of fair women and love's young dream, and to indulge in regrets for having left Old England even for ' the blue of Austral skies." , ,• ,jv j 1. The divided feeling with which Mr Sladen regards his old home and the new is fairly exhibued in "The Squire's Brother," the longest m the col- lection, and, in our opinion, the best of the lot. In the first part the Squire s Brother, who is a younger son, and who has been sent out to Queensland to push his fortune as a squatter, soliloquises as he sits on a three-rail fence— " Nell wouldn't know me, I suppose, were she to see me now Thus lolling in a linen blouse and bearded to the brow ; 1 didn't wear a flannel shirt when 1 was courting her. Or buck-skin pants engrained with dirt and shiny as a spur. So here I am — a pioneer, working with my own hands Harder than any labourer upon my brother's lands. Far from the haunts of gentlemen in this outlandish place ; I wonder if I e'er again shall see a woman's face. I couldn't stand it, but for this, that when I first came out, I used to see the carriages in which men drove about, Who tended sheep themselves of old "neath Caledonia's rocks. And now were lords of wealth untold, and half a hundred flocks. I laid this unction to my heart, that, if a Scottish hind Could play so manfully his part, I should not be behind; And so I slave and stay and save, and squander nought but youth ; Nell sometimes writes and calls me brave, and knows but half the truth." Part second takes us to the old hall, where we see the returned squatter gazing at the family portraits on the walls — " The Photo in the frame is Nell— why I gave Dick that frame. And doesn't the old pet look well ! I swear she's just the same As when I left her years ago to cross the Southern foam, _ I wonder if they've let her know that I'm expected home." Part third introduces us to Nellie herself, standing "before a faded carte," and thus soliloquising in her turn after having seen her old lover— " But Charlie's very different, he's seen the real world, And where no white man ever went his lonely flag unfurled ; He went to slave and stay and save and squander nothing but youth. And when I said that he was brave I knew but half the truth. For there in intermittent strife, with hostile natives waged He spent the best years of his life in humdrum toil engaged, Or galloping the live long day under a Queensland sun After some bullocks gone astray or stolen off the run. He's handsomer, I think, to-day, although he is so brown, And though his hair is tinged with grey and thin upon the crown. Than in the days when he was known at "White's " as Cupid Forte, And in good looks could hold his own with any man at court, Well, he has come and asked again that which he came to ask The night before he crossed the main upon his uphill task. I answer"d as I answer'd then but with a lighter heart. Who knew if we should meet again the day we had to part ! " . _ And then in the fourth and concluding part we have one of those dainty pictures which Mr Sladen paints so deftly with a fev/ touches of his pen — a picture of Charlie and Nellie in the first flush of married life — " 'Neath a verandah in Toorak I sit this summer morn. While from the garden at the back, upon the breezes borne, There floats a subtle, faint perfume of oleander bow'rs And broad magnolias in bloom, and opening orange flow'rs, A lady 'mid the flowers I see, moving with footsteps light, .\nd when she stoops she shows to me a slipper slim and bright. An ankle stocking'd in bhick silk and rounded as a palm. Her dress is of the hue of milk and making of madame. I wonder is that garden hat intended to conceal, All but that heavy auburn plait, or merely to reveal Enough to make one long to catch a glimpse of what is there To see if eye and feature match the glory of the hair. From the Federal Australian, March i<)th, 1885. He has it in him to become an Australian Longfellow ; but in order to attain this pilch of eminence, he must become as painstaking and artistic a worker as was the author of the " Voices of the Night. " From the Mklbourne Review, Afril 1883. However in spite of the many, the very many blemishes, which mar the book, there is here and there something to praise. The ode to Queen Victoria is distin'-tly good, and pleases the student of Horace by an agree- able echo of that wonderful master. From the Graphic, July aoth, 18S3. .'^Irue note of song is sounded from the Antipodes in " Australian Lyrics." The pieces have all, it seems, appeared in the columns of the Colonial press, and we can only say that any editor was lucky who could secure such a contributor of verse. The best thing in the volume is undoubtedly "The Squire's Brother," a talc of true love told in ringing measure, but there is much more that will delight the lover of genuine poetry. " Mrs Watson " is an excellent tribute to the memory of a brave, good woman, and " Solomon's Prayer " is terse and effective. Altogether Mr SInden's muse is one worthy of being cultivated. OF "FRITHJOF AND INGEBJORG, AND OTHER POEMS." The Argus, luritingin the fall of \Z%i, says: — A further in=;talment of Mr Sladen's metrical version of a saga of " Frithjof and Ingebjorg" confirms the favourable opinion we expressed of the first part. It is so good both in form and substance as to justify the expectation that the writer will hereafter make his mark in the poetical literature of Australia. Afiil the Age and Leader, October 1882. The legend (" Frithjof and Ingebjorg") is treated with artistic feeling, and the verse flows smoothly and sweetly throughout. One might even say that it proves its author to be a worthy scholar of the master who gave us the "Tales of a Wayside Inn," and express a hope that he may never fall below this achievement in future. And the Federal Australian, October i^ih, 1882. We have read the volume with pleasure, and gladly bring it under the notice of our readers, not only because it is the work of a colonist, but also because it contains much that is really good, and holds out the promise of some better work in the future. In his " epilogue " the author writes thus modestly : — " Australia sends this book of song To England, not so much in hope That it will take its place among The brotherhood of wider scope, But rather that it will be read By those who take this volume up Remembering where it was bred. We cannot, in our youth, compare With the full-grown and perfected Poesy reared in English air." And then, further on : — " Where this small sheaf of rhyme did grow, We have not yet lived fifty years ; But as the swift hours onward flow, We too shall breed poetic peers For Arnold and for Tennyson. " Such are Mr Sladen's high hopes, and we doubt not their realization in the not far distant future. And the S. A. Register, a«rf Adelaide Observer, October 1882. Of these, " Frithjof and Ingebjorg," a Norwegian legend, written in an attempt at the old rugged style of the saga, is perhaps the best. It is too long to quote, but not too lengthy to read. There are some original ideas in if, and the language in which it is clothed is ijoetical. The " Squire's Brother" is also a piece in which the author has shown originality of thought, as well as skill in working out. Fj-oin the yuEENSLANDER, December i-^rd, 1882. The title of Mr Douglas B. W. Sladen's book is, to our Southern ears, the least musical portion of it ; but before the poem " Frithjof and Ingebjorg " has been fully perused, the reader will probably have forgotten the title and become absorbed in the romantic story cleverly woven into verse. In " Waterloo" there is a facility of rhythm which we miss in almost every other poem. It is written in a fine inspiriting strain, which so lifts the reader up, until, to use Shelley's words — "The dead air seems alive With the clash of clanging wheels. And the tramp of horses' heels." The lines are pretty well known to those who take an interest in the new literature of the colonies, and have passed from journal to journal in our small literary world with almost the same universal publication as did '' Hands all Round," but with far better appreciation. There is a joyous rin^ in the lines — " On, on, Life Guard and Dragoon, An English charge and a red right hand Will bring fair years to your fair old land : With riven corslet and shivered lance Is reft and shivered the pride of France."' And, again, there is a charming expression in the concluding verse — '"Ah! me. Life is sad,' said she, ' When the sun and sheen of it are gone,' And ' One loving heart is very lone ; ' And ' Oh ! if I might lie by you In your soldier grave at Waterloo." The Scotsman {Edinburgh), November jpth, 1882, saiJ: — Mr Sladen announces himself on his title-page as "an Australian colo- nist," and many of his poems are on themes connected with his voluntary exile, its pleasures and its penalties, loving recollections of the old countrj*, hope and pride in the new one. Then he has pleasant lyrics and ballads, songs of the affections, and fragments on subjects borrowed from classic story. All alike are characterised by a satisfying mastery of form and metre, a clearness and directness of style in wholesome contrast to the morbid mysticism which pervades so much the poetry of the day, breadth and elevation of thought, and a genuine appreciation of the true and the beautiful. There is nothing in the volume that the reader could readily spare; there is much that will be read again and again with hearty enjoy- ment. And the Graphic, November 1882. There is some good verse in " Frithjof and Ingebjorg, and other Poems," The author, now resident in Australia, has something of the true poetic feeling ; it seems a pity that he has not more fully developed the vein of innate humour manifested in "My Aunt." "The Squire's Brother" i.s good, with a natural pathos; " The last of the Britons " also has merit. 8 Ami the Glasgow Hekalv, /Jece/uOe/- 2iid, 1882. In the epilogue to this little collection of poems the author pleads thus or a kindly hearing : — " You must not judge this book of rhyme By standard of the full-grown muse Of our good Queen Victoria's time, But first in dusty tomes peruse The rude verse of King Edward's reign, When English first came into use." The pleading is so graceful that we are glad Mr Sladen has added it ; but there is so much beauty both of thought and language inhis poems that they require no advocacy. The chief poem, which gives its name to the collection, is founded upon an old Norse Saga, some passages of which have been translated by Longfellow. But Mr Sladen is no translator. He has taken the story, and, putting it into flowing and musical verse, has shown us lovely pictures of crag and forest, blossom and bush. These are so closely entwined, one with the other, that it is not possible to separate them for quotation. Still less can we pick out any of those passages which tell in a very noble way of the struggles of the two lovers against almost over- whelming temptation ; or of the unselfish love of the aged king for his fair young bride. Even in the rough hexameters of the American poet the story is full of pathos and dignity: but when wedded to Mr Sladen's tender and musical words, it must charm all who read it. Besides " Frithjof," there are several other long poems, which contain many beautiful passages, and there are a number of shorter pieces. Of these, "Waterloo" and "Wiltshire" are pathetic and suggestive, but they are too long for quotation. We prefer to give a few verses of " The Squire's Brother." The elder brother is " squire," the younger goes to Australia, where he works " Harder than any labourer upon my brother's lands," and wonders that "Nell" would think of him, did she see him, once the " Cupid " forte of " White's," " Lolling in a linen blouse, and bearded to the brow." He then goes on— " Do you suppose that old Sir Hugh, who won your lands in mail. Showed half the valour that I do in sitting on this rail? He tilted in his lordly way, and stoutly, I confess. But I stand sentry all the day against the wilderness. There isn't much poetical about an old tweed suit. And nothing chivalrous at all about a cowhide boot : Yet oft beneath a bushman's breast there lurks a knightly soul, And bushmen's feet have often pressed towai'ds a gallant goal. And so I slave and stay and save, and squander nought but youth ; And if Nell said that I was brave, she only told the truth." From the Westminster Review, January 1883. We read with pleasure the tale of " Frithjof and Ingebjorg," and can recommend it to our readers. A good tale well told justifies publication. A CATALOGUE OF K3KW AKD STANDARD BOOKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE, Devotional and Religious Books, AND Educational Books & Appliances. ..^^•^ '^"'^iced to i;cwt>«*i' PUBLISHED BY GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, & WELSH, PVEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. E. P. DuTTON & Co., New York. 5M. 1/85. V.T. & Co. B CONTENTS. l^ooKs OF Travel 3 History and Biography 4; 5 Stanesby's Illuminated Books 6 Useful Knowledge and Entertaining Anecdote 6, 7, 8 Handbooks for the Household ... 8,9 Fiction, &c 9' 'o Poetry and Belles- Lettres 11, 12 Birthday and Anniversary Books 12, 13 Devotional and Religious Books... 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 American Sermons and Theological Books ... 19, 20 Zditcational Books 21 Daniell's Copy Books 21, 22 History and Geography ... ... ... 22 Geographical Readers ... 23 Grammar, &c. ... ... ... ... ... 25, 26 Arithmetic, Algebra and Geometry ... ... ... 27 Elementai-y French and German ... ... ... 28 Keedlework Manuals and Appliances. ... ,,. 29, 30 MrscELiANEOus BooKs 31 TVo-p.K.s FOR Distribution ,. ... 32 WORKS OF TRAVEL. Important and Interesting Book of Travels. Unexplored Baluchistan : a Survey, with Obser- vations Astronomical, Geographical, Botanical, &c., of a Route through "Western Baluchistan, Mekran, Bashakird, Persia, Kurdistan, and Turkey. By E. A. Flover, F.R.G.S., F.L.S., c\:c. With Twelve Illustrations and a Map. Price 28.?. Important Work on South Africa. Eight Months in an Ox-Waggon. Reminiscences of Boer Life. By E. F. Sandeman. Demy Svc, with a Map, cloth, 15^. A Visit to the United States. The Other Side : How it Struck Us. Being Sketches of a Winter Visit to the United States and Canada- By C. B. Berry. Cloth, price 9.?. Our Sketching Tour. ]]y Two of the Artists, With one hundred and seven illustrations, cr. 4to., price "js. 6d. Rambles in the Green Lanes of Hampshire, Surrey, Sussex. By the Rev. G. N. Goodwin, Chaplain to the Forces, i vol., demy 8vo., price 55. Adventiars in many lands. Travel, War, and Shipwreck, By Colonel \\. Barker Gii.i.more (" Ubicjue,") author of "The Great Thirst Land," &c. Crown Svo. Price 3^. 6d. Travels in Palestine. " His Native Land." By the Rev. A. J. Binnie, M.A., Curate of Kenilworth, late Vicar of St. vSilas, Leeds. AVith Preface by the Rev. John Mii.es i\Ioss, of Liverpool. With a Photograph of Jerusalem, and a Map of Palestine. Cr. Svo., cloth, 2.r. (^d. A Scamper through America. By T. S. Hudsox. Crown Svo., cloth bevcUctl boards, price 6j.'. Nau Books in General Literature. HISTORY & BIOGRAPHY. Memories of Seventy Years. By one of a literary family. Edited by Mrs. Herbert Martin. One vol., Crown 8vo., cloth, price 7^. bd. A Bookseller of the Last Century. Being some account of the Life of John Newhery, and of the Books he published; with a Chapter on the later Newberys. By Charles Welsh. [In preparation. Studies in History, Legend, and Literature. By H. Schutz-Wilson, Author of " Studies and Romances," &c. One vol. Crown 8vo., cloth, bevelled boards, price 7^. 6(/. Records of York Castle, Fortress, Court House, and Prison. By Captain A. W. Twyfokd (the late Governor) and Major Arthur Griffiths. Crown 8vo. With Engravings and Photographs. 7.C bd. York and York Castle : An Appendix to the " Records of York Castle." By Captain A. W. Twyford, F.R.G.S. Cloth, price loj-. bd. Historical Sketches of the Reformation. By the Rev. FREDERICK George Lee, D.C.L., Vicar of All Saints, Lambeth, &c., &c. Post Svo., price loj-. bd. The Crimean Campaign with the Connaught Rangers, 1854 — 55—56. By Lieut. -Colonel Nathaniel Steevens, late 88th (Connaught Rangers). Demy 8vo., with Map, cloth, 15^. Memorable Battles in English History ; Where Fought, Why Fought, and their Results ; with the Military Lives of the Commanders. By W. II. Daventokt Adams. New and thoroughly Revised Edition, with Frontispiece and Plans of Battles. Two Volumes, crown 8vo., cloth, price i6j. Ocean and Her Rulers ; A Narrative of the Nations who have from the Earliest Ages held Dominion over the Sea, comprising a brief History of Navigation from the Remotest Periods up to the Present Time. By Alfred Elwes. With 16 Illustrations by Walter W. May. Crown 8vo., cloth, 9^. New Books in General Literature. History & Biography— (cr^;/////«4'^). The Modern British Plutarch ; or, Lives of Men distinguished in the recent History of our Country for their Talents, Virtues, and Achievements. By W. C. Taylor, LL. D. i2mo. 4J'. 6J., or gilt edges, 5^. A Life of the Prince Imperial of France. By Ellen Barlee. DemySvo., with a Photograph of the Prince. Cloth, price 12s. 6cL Heroes of History and Legend. Translated by John Lanxelot Shadwell from the German " Character- bilderaus Geschichte und Sage," by A. W. Grube. One vol. Crown 8vo., price 3^. 6d. Pictures of the Past : Memories of Men I have Met, and Sights I have Seen. By Fran'cis H. Grundy, C.E. Crown Svo., cloth, price 12s. Six Life Studies of Famous Women. By M. Betham-Edwards, Author of "Kitty," "Dr. Jacob," "A Year in Western France," &c. With Six Portraits engraved on Steel. Cloth, price 7^. 6d. Joan of Arc and the Times of Charles the Seventh. By Mrs. Bray. 7^. 61/. " Readers ivill rise from its perusal not only with increased informatioti, but xvith sytupatliics awakctted and elevated.' — Ti M ES. The Good St. Louis and His Times. Cy the same Author. With Portrait. 7^'. 6</. *'A valuable and interesting record of Louis,' reign." — Spectator. Tales of the White Cockade. By Barbara HuTTON. Illustrated by J. Lawson. Crown 8vo., cloth, y. Gd. The Fiery Cross, or the Vow of Montrose. By Bakhara Hi'tton. Illustrated by J. Lawson. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3^. 6d. Afghanistan : A Short Account of Afghanistan, its history and our dealings with it. l?y P. F. Walker, Barrister- at-Law (late 75th Regiment). Cloth, 2s. dd. Nnju Books in General Literature. STANESBY'S ILLUMINATED GIFT BOOKS. Every page richly printed in Gold and Colours. The Bridal Souvenir, with a Portrait of the Princess Royal. Elegantly bound in white moroccO; lis. The Birthday Souvenir. A Book of Thoughts on Life and Immortality. \zs. 6d. cloth ; i8^. morocco. Light for the Path of Life ; from the Holy Scrip- tures. 12^. cloth; 1 5 J', calf, gilt edges ; i8j. mor. antique. The Wisdom of Solomon ; from the Book of Proverbs, l^s., cloth elegant ; 185. calf; 21s. mor. antique. The Floral Gift. 14s. cloth elegant; 21s. moroccO' extra. Shakespeare's Household Words. With a Photogi-aph from the Alonument at Stratford -on- Avon. New and Cheaper Edition, 6s. cloth elegant ; lo^. 6d. mor. antique. Aphorisms of the Wise and Good, with a Portrait of Milton. 6s. cloth elegant ; 10^. 6d. mor. antique. SCIENCE, USEFUL KNOWLEDGE, & ENTERTAINING ANECDOTE. The Commercial Products of the Sea ; or, Marine Contributions to Industry and Art. By P.L.Sim.monds, Author of " The Commercial Products of the Vegetable Kingdom." ^^'ith numerous IHustrations. New and Cheaper Edition, price "js. 6d. Folk-Lore of Shakespeare. By the Rev. J. F. Thiselton Dykr. Demy Svo., cloth, bevelled boards, price 14^. Choice Extracts from the Standard Authors. By the Editor of" Poetry for the Young.'' In three volumes. Foolscap Svo., cloth, elegant, price 2s. 6d. each. New Books in General Literature. Useful Knowledge «Sc Extertaimng Anecdote— (,:^;/////;/t7/). Snakes. Curiosities and Wonders of Serpent Life. By Miss Catherine C. Hopley, Author of "Aunt Jenny's American Pets." Illustrated by A. T. Elwes. Demy 8vo., price 1 6s. Talks about vScience. By the late Thomas Dun- man, Physiology Lecturer at the Birkbeck Institution and the Working Men's College. With a Biographical Sketch by Charles Welsh. Crown Svo., cloth, bevelled boards, price Talks About Plants ; or, Early Lessons in Botany. By Mrs. Lancaster, Author of " Wild Flowers Worth Notice," &c. With Six Coloured Plates and Numerous Wood Engravings. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3^. 6d. The Four Seasons ; a Short Account of the Structure of Plants, being Four Lectures written for the Working Men's Institute, Paris. With Illustrations. Imperial i6mo., 3^. 6d. Trees, Plants, and Flowers, their Beauties, Uses, and Inllucnces. By Mrs. R. Lee. With Coloured Groups of Flowers from Drawings by Ja.mes Andrews. Second Thousand. Svo., cloth, gilt edges, igj'. 6d. Everyday Things ; or, Useful Knowledge respecting the principal Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral Substances in Common Use. iSmo., cloth is. 6d. Infant Amusements ; or, How to Make a Nursery Happy. With practical Hints to Parents and Nurses on the Moral and Physical Training of Children. By W. II. G. Kingston. Cloth, 35. 6d. Female Christian Names, and their Teachings. By I\L\RY K. Bro.meield. ]5eautifully printed on Toned Paper. Imi). 32mo., Cloth, gilt edges, is. French Morocco, 2s. Calf or Morocco, 4^^. Our Sailors ; or. Anecdotes of the Engagements and Gallant Deeds of the British Navy. ]5y the late W. H. G. Kingston. Revised and brought down to date by G. A. Hentv. With Frontispiece. Crown Svo., cloth elegant, 3J. 6</. New Books in General Literature. Useful Knowledge & Entertaining Kv.'e.cviOX-?.— {continued). Our Soldiers ; or, Anecdotes of the Campaigns and Gallant Deeds of the British Army during the Reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. By the late W. H. G. Kingston. Revised and brought down to date by G. A. Henty. With Frontispiece. Crown Svo., cloth elegant, 3^. dd. Anecdotes of the Habits and Instincts of Animals. By Mrs. R. Lee. Illustrated by Harrison Weir. Post 8vo., Cloth, y. 6d. Anecdotes of the Habits and Instincts of Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes. By Mrs. R. Lee. Illustrated by Harrison Weir. Post 8vo., Cloth, y. 6d. Ancestral Stories and Traditions of Great Families. Illustrative of English Histor}\ With Frontispiece. By the late John Timks, F.'S.A. Cloth, ^s. 6d. HANDBOOKS FOR THE HOUSEHOLD. Ambulance Lectures : or, What to do in Cases of Accidents or Sudden Illness. By L. A. Weatuerley, M.D., Lecturer to the Ambulance Department, Order of St. John of Jerasalem in England. With numerous Illustrations. Cloth, thoroughly revised, price is. Lectures on Domestic Hygiene and Home Nursing. By L. A. Weatuerley, M.D. Illustrated. Cloth, limp, ij. The Young Wife's Own Book, a Manual of Personal and Family Hygiene, containing everything that the young wife and mother ought to know concerning her own health at the most important periods of her life, and that of her children. By L. A. Weatiierley, 1\LD. P'cap. Svo, stiff boards, price is. Nc7v Books in General Literature. Handbooks for the \\o\:i,'E.\\o\Ai— {continued). The Food we Eat, and why we Eat it, and whence its Comes. By Dr. J. Milxer Fotiiergili.. Edited by A. Milner Fothergill. Fcap. Svo., cloth, limp, price \s. The Care and Treatment of the In.sane in Private Dwellings. By L. A. Weatherley, M.D., CM. Fcap. Svo., cloth, price is. 6d. Popular. Lectures on Plain and High-class Cookery. By a former Staff Teacher of the National Training School of Cookery. Cloth, is. 6d. The Art of Washing ; Clothes, Personal, and House. By Mrs. A. A. Strange BuTsox. Cloth, price is. 6d. Artizan Cookery, and how to Teach it. By a Pupil of the National Training School for Cookery, South Kensington. Sewed, 6d. The Stage in the Drawing Room ; or, the Theatre at Home. Practical Hints on Amateur Acting for Amateur Actors. By Henry J. Dakin. Fully illustrated, price One Shilling. Uniform with the "Household Hand- books." FICTION, &c. Percy Pomo ; or, The Autobiography of a South Sea Islander. A Tale of Life and Adventure (Missionary, Trading, and Slaving) in the South Pacific. Crown Svo., cloth, price 2s.6d. Halek ; an Autobiographical Fragment. By John H. Nicholson . Crown Svo., price "js. 6d. Cape Cod Folks. By Sally Pratt M'Lkan. Fcap. Svo, paper, price is. The Disk : A Prophetic Reflection. By E. A. RoriiNSO.N and G. \\'. Wall. Fcap. Svo, sewed, price is. 10 New Books in General lAterature. Fiction, &c. — {contimied). Hillslancl as it was Seventy Years ago. A Story in One Volume. By the Rev. F. H. MORGAN. Crown. 8vo., cloth, price ^s. Lois Leggatt ; a Memoir. By Francis Carr, Author of "Left Alone," "Tried by Fire," &c. One vol., crown 8vo., price 6s., cloth. Queer Quotes and Odd Jokes from 'Frisco. A collection of Stories of Life in the early days of San Fran- cisco. By H. L. Williams. Fcap. 8vo., sewed, price is. Stories and Anecdotes of the Civil Service. By G. SwiNBURN King. Fcap. Svo., sewed, price is. The Diary of an Actress ; or, Realities of Stage Life. Edited and[prefaced by the Rev. IL C. Shuttleworth. Fcap. 8vo., sewed, price is. A Voice from the Dim MilHons. Edited by C. Destard, with Frontispiece by Fred. Barnard. Fcap. Svo., sewed, is. Allan Stuart. By Hope Lees, Crown 8vo., cloth, price 6s. A Journey to the Centre of the Earth. From the French of Jules Verne. With 52 Illustrations by Riou. New Edition. Post 8vo., 65. ; or bevelled boards, gilt edges, "js. (yd. Elsie Grey ; A Tale of Truth. By Cecil Clarke. Crown 8vo., cloth, 55. Sister Clarice ; An Old IMaid's Story. By Mrs. Hunter Hodgson, "A Soldier's Daughter." Crown 8vo., cloth boards, price 3.?. 6d. Or Black or White, and a Reminiscence of Spain. By Mrs. Hunter Hodgson, Author of "Sister Clarice." Fcap. 8vo., sewed, is. St. Nicholas Eve and other Tales. By Mary C. RowsKLL. Crown 8vo., price 7^. 6(/. Wothorpe-by-Stamford. A Tale of Bygone Days. By C. Hoi.Dlcii. Five Engravings. Cloth, 3^. bd. New Books in General Lileraiiire. %\ POETRY AND BELLES-LETTRES. The Classics for the Million ; being an Epitome in English of the Works of the Principal Greek and Latin Authors. By Henry Grey, New and cheaper edition price \s. ; or cloth, price 2s, "An admirable resum<?." — John Bull. "A most useful work." — Edinburgh Cotirant. A Bird's-Eye View of English Literature : From the Seventh Century to the Present Time. Ey the same author. Fcap. 8vo. , limp cloth, price is. " Very clear and a.ccuTMe."—Sc/wol»!aster. "A dainty little volume."— Z//dr. A Key to all the Waverley Novels in Chrono- logical Sequence, with an Index of the principal characters. By the same author. 8vo. cloth limp, price One Shilling. Trowel, Chisel, and Brush : A Concise Manual of Architecture, Sculpture and Painting, Ancient and Modern. By the same author. P'cap. 8vo., cloth boards. One Shilling. "A surprisingly interesting and useful manua]."— Aberdeen Free Press. "A remarkable feat." — Saturday Review. Music in Song: From Chaucer to Tennyson. Being a Selection of Extracts, descriptive of the power, influence, and effects of Music. Compiled Ijy L. L. Carmkla Koei.le, with an introduction by Dr. John Staixer. Printed in red antl black on Dutch hand-made paper, and bound in parch- ment. Price 3^-. 6d. Beautifully Illustrated Gift Books. Printed and Engraved under the supervision of Geurc.e T. Andrew. Crown 4tu., printed on toned paper, and elegantly bound in cloth, bevelled boards, gilt edges, price 2s. 6d. The Sweet By and By. liy G.""Fii.i.i.more P)ENNEtt. Annie and Willie's Prayer. By S<ji'1iia F. Snow. The Raven. By Eugar Allan Poe. The Evening Hymn. By the Rev. John Kekle. Hark! theHerald Angels Sing. Bytlie Rev. Charles Wesley, M.A. With Illustrations from the Old Masters. Rhymes in Council : Aphorisms Versified— 185. By S. C. Hall, F.S.A. Dedicated by permission to the Grandchildren of the Queen. 410., printed in black with red borders; Cloth elegant, 2s. 6d. 12 New Books in General Literature. Poetry and Belles-Lettres. — continued. Masterpieces of Antique Art. From the cele- brated collections in the Vatican, the Louvre, and the British Museum. By Stephen Thompson, Author of "Old English Homes." Twenty-five Examples in Permanent Photography. Super-Royal Quarto. Elegantly bound, cloth gilt, Two Guineas. A Summer Christmas. By Douglas B. W. Sladen. Small crown Svo., cloth, price 6s. A Poetry of Exile and other Poems. By DouGi-AS B. W. Sladen. In parchment covers, price is. Austrahan Lyrics, By the same Author. Demy 8vo., stiff paper cover, cloth back, price is.Sd. The Seasons ; a Poem by the Rev. O. Raymond, with Four Illustrations. Ecap. Svo. Clolli, 2s. 6d. The Golden Queen : a Tale of Love, War, and Magic. By Ed\vard A. Sloane. Cloth, gilt edges, 6s. ; or plain edges, 5^. Grandma's Attic Treasures ; A Story of Old Time Memories. By Mary D. Brine. Illustrated with numerous Wood Engravings, executed in the best style of the art. Small quarto, cloth, gilt edges, price (js. A Woodland Idyll. By Miss Phcebe Allen. Dedicated to Principal Shairp. An attempt to represent allegorically the relative positions of Nature, Art, and Science in our World. Cloth, 2s. 6J. Stories from Early English Literature, with some Account of the Origin of Fairy Tales, Legends and Traditionary Lore. Adapted to the use of Young Students. By Miss S. J. Venables Dodds. Crown 8vo., price 5j-. 'S and Poems. By Albert E. Drinkwater. Crown 8vo., cloth, price 5 J. BIRTHDAY AND ANNIVERSARY BOOKS. Play The Churchman's Daily Remembrancer, with Poetical Selections for the Christian Year, with the Kalendar and Table of Lessons of the English Church, for the use of both Clergy and Laity. Cloth, red edges, price 2s. New Devotional and Religions Books. 13 The Australasian Birthday Book. Compiled exclusively from the Works of Australasian Authors. By Myra Marbron, Author of " A Dictionary of English His- tory." Cloth, bevelled boards, price ^s. The Book of Remembrance for every Day in the Year. Containing Choice Extracts from the best Authors, and the exact place indicated whence the Quotation is taken, with Blank Spaces for recording Birthdays, Marriages, and other Anniversaries. Beautifully . printed in red and black. Imperial 32mo. Cloth extra, is., or gilt edges, 2s. 6d., with 12 Photographs, price 5J-. Anniversary Text Book ; a Book of Scripture Verse and Sacred Song for Every Day in the Year. Inter- leaved. Cloth, price l.f. ; or, gilt edges, \s.6(l. The Favourite Birthckiy Book : Choice Extracts from the Standard Authors. Small square i6mo., cloth elegant, price 6d., or bevelled boards, gilt edges, g*/. *^* 'I he above tnay also be had in various Leather Bindings. DEVOTIONAL AND RELIGIOUS BOOKS. A Catechism of Church Doctrine. For Younger Children. By the Rev. T. S. IIali., M.A., The Vicarage, Ilythe. Second Edition. Price id., paper; 2d., cloth. Sermons for Chiklren. By A. Decoppet, Pastor of the Reformed Church in Paris. Translated from the French by Marie Taylor. With an Introduction by Mrs. Henry Reeve. Cloth, bevelled boards, price 3^-. 6d. The Consecutive Church Service, for Children. With iS Original Hymns, arranged for the various Seasons and Occasions of ihc Christian Year. By the Rev. S. J. Stone, M.A. Cloth limp, price art'. The Churchman's Altar Manual and Guide to Holy Communion, together with the Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, and a Selection of appropriate Hymns. Borders and Rubrics in red. Three Editions of this Manual are now issued. The following are the sizes and prices :— Royal 32mo., with Rubrics and P.orders in red, cloth, 2s., or with Eiglit Photos., 4^. (A Conlirmation Card is presented with this edition.) Large Type Edition, cloth, red edges, 2s. Cheap Edition, foi dis- tribution, cloth Hush, 6d. ; or red edges, 9</. T4 A^ew Devotional and Religious Books. The Young Communicant's Manual. Con- taining Instructions and Preparatory Prayers in accordance with tlie Church's directions for Preparations ; Form of Self- Examination; the Services for the Holy Communion, with appropriate Devotions, Intercessions, and Thanksgivings ; Hymns, &c. Price \s. Cheap Edition for distribution, cloth flush, price (id., or cloth boards, red edges, <^d. Bishop Ken's Approach to the Holy Altar. With an Address to Young Communicants, with a New Selec- tion of Hymns. New and Cheaper Edition, price bd. *,* Clergymen wishing to introduce these Manuals can have Specimen Copies of either with prices for quantities, post free for six stamps on application. Witli introduction hy tJu Rev. Canon Carter. The Altar Hymnal. A Book of Sons; for use at the Celebration of the Holy Eucharist. 320 pp., cloth limp, price IJ. ; or cloth boards, red edges, l^. 3t/. It contains the Introits, Graduals, Alleluia.s, or Tracts, Offertories, and Communions for every Sunday and Festival in the year ; also Processionals, Sequences, and Special Hymns for use at the Oftertory and Ablutions on all the Greater Days, as well as a large collection of Eucharistic Hyixins for general use on ordinary occasions. %* A Musical Edition is in preparation, under the able editor- ship of Mr. Arthur H. Brown, of Brentwood, and will be published as s])eedily as possible. A Lent Manual for Busy People and for the Young. 32mo. sewed, 3d., or bound in cloth with red edges, price 6d. The Song of Solomon, rendered in English Verse, in accordance with the most approved translation from the Hebrew and Septuagint. By the Rev. James Pratt, D.D. With 7 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., clotli, 3^. 6(/. An Epitome of Anglican Church History from the Earliest Ages to the Present Time. Compiled from various sources by Ellen Wedley-Parry. Demy 8vo., cloth boards, ^s. The Life Militant. Plain Sermons for Cottage Homes. By Ellell. CrowTi 8vo., price 6j. New Devotional and Relhioits Book;. The Way of Prayer ; a Book of Devotions, foT use in Church and at Home. Compiled by Rev. H. W. Millar, M.A, Cloth, red edges, is. Bogatsky's Golden Treasury for the Children of God, consisting of devotional and practical observations foe every day in the year. Fcap. j6mo, with purple border lines, price is. The Churchman's Manual of Family and Private Devotion, compiled from the writings of English Divines, witk Graces and Devotions for the Seasons, Litanies, and an entirely new selection of Hymns. .Super royal 32mo., price is. 6d. The Children's Daily Help for the Christian Year Taken from the Psalms and Lessons. Selected by E. G. Price is. 6d., or bevelled boards, gilt edges, 2s. Holy Week, a four-page Leaflet recording the events of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Saviour. Price id, or 6^-. 6d. per loo. Miniature Text Books. Each containing 72 pages, with Text and Verse, and Floral Design Printed in Colours. Cloth, price is. each. The Golden Text Book. Scripture Texts and Selections from the "Christian Year." Mercy and Peace. \ p . . / Scripture Texts and Sacred Song. „ " > With Prefaces by Miss C. AL Charity. J '^ I*"aith, Hope, and Charity may also be had, 3 vols, in handsome thumb case, with design. Miniature Series of Devotion.vl Books. Small square 32mo, cloth, price (>d. each. Whispers of Love and Wisdom. By Annie C.a.zenove. Fragments in Prose and Verse. By Annie Ca/.enove. Cut Diamonds. I5y Ellen C.ukiuns. Life, Light and Love. By S.W. Traveller's Joy; or ihe Wayside of Life, Selections by Ellex GUBBINS. 1 6 Text Books. Thoughts and Verses. By Annie Cazenove. The Churchman's Text Book. Fisherman's Text Books. By S. M. C. Uniform 7uitk the aboz'c. Queen Mab. Gems from Shakespeare. By C.W. Maxims and Moral Reflections. By the Due De Roche- FOUCAULt), with his Portrait, by himself. Confirmation ; or, Called and Chosen and Faithful. By the Author of " The Gospel in the Ghurch's Seasons Series." With Preface by the Very Rev. the Dean of Chester. Fcap. 8vo. , sewed, yi. ; cloth limp, Qc/. ; cloth boards, red edges, \s. Sermons for the Church's Year. Original and Selected. By the Rev. W. Benham, B.D., Rector of St. Edmund the King, London, and one of the six preachers in Canterbury Cathedral. In 13 parts, 64 pages, demy 8vo., sewed, price \s. each; or 2 vols., demy Svo., cloth boards, price '^s. A Short History of the Episcopal Church in the UNITED STATES. By the Rev. W. Beniiam, B.D., F..S.A., Rector of St. Edmund the King, London, and Editor of "Sermons for the Church's Year." With a Portrait of Bishop Seabury, the First American Bishop, engraved from the Portrait in the \'estry of .St. Andrew's Church, Aberdeen. Cloth boards, price 2s. 6d. The Preacher's Promptuary of Anecdote. Stories New and Old. Arranged, indexed, and classified by Rev. W. Frank Shaw, Author of "The Mourner's Manual," "Sermon Sketches," &c. Cloth boards, price 2s. 6d. The Great Social Problem of the Day : Lessons from the Hebrew Prophets of our Time. A .Series of Sermons by Rev. E. A. Washhurn, D.D. With Preface by Rev. VV. Benham, Editor of "Sermons ior the Christian Year." Price 2s. 6d. By the Very Rev. E. H. Plu.mptre, Dean of Wells. Crown Svo., cloth, Ije veiled boards, price 6s. each. Things New and Old. New Book just published- Lazarus, and Other Poems. Fourth Edition, with Notes. New Devotional and Religious Books. 1 7 Devotional and Religious Books — {continncif). Master and Scholar, &c., &c. Second Edition, with Notes. Christ and Christendom. Being the Boyle Lectures for 1866. Demy 8vo., cloth l^oards, "js. 6d. Biblical Studies. Crown Svo., cloth boards, 5^. Theology and Life. Sermons, chiefly on Special Occasions. Fcap. Svo, cloth boards, y. 6d. Altar Services. Containing the complete Altar Ser- vices of the Church, beautifully printed in red and black at the Chiswick Press, enriched vvitli Ornamental Capitals, &.c., in Three Volumes ; One Volume, folio size, 15 X lo X i| inches ; and two Volumes 410., containing the Epistles and Gospels separately, each 1 2 x 9 X f inches. The Set, in Turkey Tilorocco, plain ... ... £y 7 o ,, Best Levant Morocco, inlaid cross ... ;^io 10 o ,, Parchment ... ... ... ... £2 2 o The Folio Volume, which contains all the Services of the Altar, may be had separately — Turkey Morocco, plain ... ... ... ... .£330 Best Levant Morocco, inlaid cross ... ... £\ i o *,* The work can also be bound specially to order in cheaper or more expensive styles. The Seven Words from the Cross. Printed in red and black upon best hand-made paper, and bound in parchment covers, uniform with "Music in .Song." Price 3^. 6(/. On the Wings of a Dove ; or, the Life of a Soul : An Allegory. Illustrated by Sister E.— C. S. J. \^. Clewer. Demy i6mo. Cloth, gilt edges is. 6d., with eight Illustrations. Deaconesses in the Church of England. Revised by the Very Rev. Dean of Chester, with Prefaratory Note by His Crace the late Archbishop ok Cantekhurv. Post Svo, price is. 6d. Emblems of Christian Life. Illustrated by \V. Harry Rogkks, in One Hundred Qrigin.al Designs, from the Writings of the Fathers, Old English Poets, &c. Printed by Whittingham, with Borders and Initials in red. Square Svo, price io.r. 6d. cloth elegant, gilt edges ; 21s. Turkey morocco anticjue. l8 Nciv Devotional and Religious Books. Devotional and Religious Books — {continued). Outlines of the Saints, st. Andrew, St. John, St. Thomas, St. Stephen, and the Holy Innocents. Sewed, price 6d. A New Series of Christmas Carols for Child- dren. The Words by Mrs. Hernaman, Author of "The Child's Book of Praise." The Music by Alfred Redhead, Composer of "The Story of the Cross," &c. Price i^d. each. 1. Jesus in the Manger. 2. The Birthday of Birthdays. 3. The Welcome Home. 4. Carol to Jesus Sleeping. 5. The Lambs in the Field. 6. Round about the Christmas Tree 7. Carols for the Children of Jesus. 8. Christmas Song. Q. Old Father Christmas. 10. We'll Gather Round the Fire. The Set of Ten Christmas Carols may be had bound together in stiff paper cover, price 15, 6J. The Words only may be also had, price id. The Troubled Heart. A Sermon preached on St. Bartholomew's Day, at Canterbury Cathedral, by the Rev. Canon Bateman. Published by recjuest. Sewed, price yi. The One Thing Needful. A Sermon by the same Author. Sewed price 3^/. What is a Mission ? An Address on the Object, Preparation, Obstacles, Encouragements, &c. By the Rev. Canon Reynolds Hole. Sewed, price 31/. ; or cloth, 6d. Some Bible Teachings on Prayers and Offer- ings. .Showing how holy men and women gave to God, and how God expects Christians to give ; with some remarks on Bazaars. By C. W. Sewed, price 2d. A New Inexpensive Confirmation Card. Printed in red and black, size 5X3^ inches. Sold in Packets of Twelve Card*; for 6d. An Illuminated Certificate of Confirmation and First Communion. Printed in gold and colours, size 6X4^ inches. Price 2d. An " In Memoriam " Card. Beautifully printed in silver or gold, price 2d. *,* A reduction made on taking a quantity of the above Cards, American Sermons and Theological Books. 19 AMERICAN SERMONS THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. PUBLISHED BY E. P. BUTTON a?id Co., New York, U.S.A., AND SOLD IN ENGLAND BV GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, & WELSH. Brooks, the Rev. Phillips, D.D., Rector of Trinity Church, Boston. Influence of Jesus. Being the Bohlen Lecture for 1879. Eighth Thousand. Crown 8vo., cloth, price 3s. 6d. Sermons. Thirteenth Thousand. Crown Svo, cloth, jDrice 5s. Chapman, Rev. Dr. Sermons upon the Ministry, Worship, and Doctrine of the Church. New Edition. Crown Svo, price 5s. Clergyman's Visiting List, in morocco, with tuck for the pocket. Foolscap, price 7s. 6d. Doane, Rt. Rev. Wm. Croswcll, D.D., Bishop of Albany. Mosaics ; or, the Harmony of Collect, Epistle, and Gospel for the Sundays of the Christian Year. Cr. Svo, cloth 6s. Hallam, Rev. Robert A., D.D. Lectures on the Morning Prayer. i2mo, 5s. Lectures on Moses. i2mo, cloth, 3s. 6d. Handbook of Church Terms. A Pocket Dictionary ; or, Brief Explanation of Words in Common Use relating to the Order, Worship, Architecture, Vestments, Usages, and Symbolism of the Cluirch, as employed in Christian Art. Paper, gd. ; cloth, is. 6d. Hobart, Rev. John Henry, D.D., formerly Bishop of New York. Festivals and Fasts, a Companion for the Festivals and Fasts of the Protestant Episcopal Church, principally selected and altered from Nelson's Companion. With Forms of Devotion. Twenty-third Edition. l2mo, 5s. 20 American Sermons and Theological Books. American Sermons and Theological Books — continued. Hodges, Rev. Wm., D.D. Baptism : Tested by Scripture and History ; or, the Teaching of the Holy Scriptures, and the Practice and Teaching of the Christian Church in every age succeeding the Apostolic, compared in relation to the Subjects and Modes of Baptism. 6s. Huntington, Rt. Rev. F. D., Bishop of Central New York. Christian Believing and Living. Sermons. Fifth Edition. l2mo, 3s. 6d. Helps to a Holy Lent. 208 pages, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. Sermons for the People. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. Odenheimer, the Rt. Rev. Wm. H., D.D., late Bishop of New Jersey. Sermons, with Portrait and IMemoir. Edited by his Wife. Crown 8vo, 5s. Staunton, Rev. WilHam, D.D. Ecclesiastical Dictionary, containing Definitions of Terms, and Explanations and Illustrations of Subjects pertaining to the History, Ritual, Discipline, Worship, Ceremonies, and Usages of the Christian Church. 8vo. 746 pp., 7s. 6d. Vinton, Rev. Alexander H. Sermons. Fourth Edition. 330 pages, 3s. 6d. Vinton, Francis, S.T.D., D.C.L. Manual Commentary on the General Canon Law of the Protestant Episcopal Church. Svo, cloth, 5s. WilHams, Right Rev. John, D.D., Bishop of Connecticut. Studies on the English Reformation. i2mo., cloth, 3s. 6d. Wilson, Rev. Wm. D., D.D. The Church Identified. By a reference to the History of its Origin, Extension, and Perpetuation, with Special Reference to the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States. Revised Edition, i2mo, 439 pp. 6s. Neio Educational Books. 21 EDUCATIONAL WORKS, GOOD HANDWRITING. George Darnell's Copy-Books, After over a quarter of a century of public favour, are every- where acknowledged as the best for simplicity and thoroughness. With these Copy-Books the pupil advances in the art of writing ■with ease and rapidity, while the labour of the teacher is very greatly lightened. They are used in nearly all the best schools in Great Britain and the Colonies, and are adapted to the New Educational Code. Advantages of the Syste.m. I. IE It is the production of an experienced Schoolmaster. It gradually advances from the Simple Stroke to a superior Small Hand. in. The assistance given in the Primal lesson is reduced as the learner progresses, until all guidance is safely withdrawn. IV. The number and variety of the copies secure attention, and prevent the pupils copying their own writing, as in books with single head-lines. V. The system insures the progress of the learner, and greatly lightens the labours of the teacher. Darnell's Universal Twopenny Copy-Books, for the Standards. i6 Nos., Fcap. 4to. Being a series of sixteen copy-books, by George Darnell, the first ten of which have on every alternate line appropriate and carefully written copies in Pencil coloured Ink, to be first written over and then imitated, the remaining numbers having Black Head-lines for imitation only, the whole gradually advancing ero.m A SIMPLE STROKE TO A SUPERIOR SMALL HAND. STANDARD I. 1. Elementary. 2. Single and Double Letters. 3. Large Text (ijhort Words). STANDARD 11. 3. Large Text (.Short Words). 4. Large Text (Short Words). 5. Text, Large Text, and Figures. STANDARD III. 6. Text, Round, Capitals S: Figures. 7. Text, Round and Small. 8. Text, Round, Small .S: Figures. STANDARD IV. 9. Text, Round, Small & Figures. 10. Text, Round, Small & Figures. 11. Round, Small and Figures. STANDARD V. 12. Round, Small and Figures. 13. Round and Small. 14. Round and Small. STANDARD VI. 15. Small Hand. 16. Small Hand. ■22 New Educational Books. CovY-BooKS—(con(i>iiecd). Darnell's Large Post Copy-Books. a Sure and Certain Road to a Good Handwriting. i6 Nos., 6d. each. Darnell's Foolscap Copy-Books. A Sure Guide to a Good Handwriting, on tlie same plan. 24 Nos., 3^/. each, green covers ; or on a superior jiaper, marble covers, 41/. each. HISTORY. Britannia ; a Collection of the Principal Passages in Latin Authors that refer to this Island, with Vocabulary and Notes. By T. S. Ca\zer. Illustrated with a Map and 29 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3^-. 6d. True Stones from Ancient History, chrono- logically arranged from the Creation of the World to the Death of Charlemagne. Twelfth Edition. l2mo., 55. cloth. Mrs. Trimmer's Concise History of England, Revised and brought down to the Present Time. By Mrs. MiLNER. With Portraits of the Sovereigns. 5^. cloth Historical Readers. By Oscar Browning, M.A. Book I. for Standard III., Stories from English History, 144pp., clothboards, lod. „ II-,, „ IV., England to 1485 i6opp., „ „ is. „III. „ ,, v., England to 1660 i66pp., „ „ is. ,, IV. ,, „ VI., Englaud to Present Date 168pp., „ „ is. Each Book contains a Map of England and numerous Illustrations, and the right number of lessons and of pages to satisfy the requirements of the Code and of the recent Circulars. Plans of important Battles are also introduced. PAPER, PRINTING, BINDING, ARE ALIKE EXCELLENT. Teachers desirous of obtaining shorter Historical Readers are strongly recom- mended to introduce the above Series. They are the work of an eminent Historian, who has made it his aim that the ]5ooks should be readable and should be History, and who has avoided .as far as possible the multiplication of dates and proper names, which burden the memory without appealing to the intelligence ; and they will be found far superior to any set yet published for instruction, for interest, for accuracy, and for purity of style in composition. They are equally suited for Board Schools and for Voluntary Schools. No political or religious views are contemned : none specially approved. The Books have been carefully revised by a practical Teacher, who has added lists of words and explanatory notes where necessary. A Dictionary of English Hi.story, chrono- logically arranged for Examination Students. By Myra Mari!RON. Being a synopsis of all the principal events with dates in English History. Cloth. Nnv Educational Bcohs. Illustra- Cloth Cloth andan \. Lessons. I\Iaps. , tions. Pages. Limp. Boards. I. containing 40 I 31 100 8d. lod. II. 40 I 37 119 I/O III. 53 13 18 176 1/3 IV. 51 7 16 160 1/3 V. 64 16 2 2 20S 1/4 VI. 49 17 13 20S l/l NEW GEOGRAPHICAL READERS. Specially compiled tomeet the requirements of Circular 2 28. By J. R. BLAKISTON, M.A., Trin. Coll., Camb., Author of "The Teacher," Adopted by the School Boards for London, Leeds, Leicester, Derby, e>r. Book. St; I. for 11. „ III. „ IV. „ V. „ VI. „ VII. „ VII. (In active preparation). Eachof these books contains the right number of lessons and of pages to satisfy all the requirements of the Code and of the recent Circular. " The Kcadrrs heat- evidence on every pag^c o/" ike nicthors great cx/>eriencc cf School Work, and of iiis tlioroiigli grasp of the conditions under which the elements 0/ geograpliy arc taught in the standards."- — School Board Chronicle. " In an examination of these volumes the feature that first strikes the reader is, probably, the amount of information stored ivithin them, and the more one penetrates into than the more this becomes apparent. The author has spared no labour to make his books the ineans of conveying geographical knoiulcdgc. The information is full, sound, and exhibits considerable research. I llustrations are introduced here and there, and the maps arc very -well done — distinct, not crowded 7vith names, but just sufficient to strike the attention of the pupil." — SCHOOLMASTEK. Pictorial Geography, for the Instruction of Children. Illustrates at a glance the Various Geographical 'J'crnis in sucli a manner as to at once impart clear and definite ideas respecting them. On a Sheet 30 by 22 inches, printed in colours, \s. 6d. ; Mounted on Rollers and Varnished, 3^'. 6d. "Forms an excellent introduction to the study cf maps." — School Board Chronmcle. Gaultier's Famihar Geography. A\ith a concise Treatise on tlie Artificial Spliere, and Two Coloured Maps, illustrative of the principal Cicographical Terms. Cloth, 3^-. Butler's Outline Maps, and Key, or Geo- graphical and Biographical Exercises : with a Set of Coloured Outline Maps, designed for the Use of Young Persons. By the late William '^IJuti.er. Enlarged by the Author's Son,. J. O. BuTLKK. Price 4J-. 24 New Educational Books. The "STAND AED AUTHORS" READERS. Arranged and annotated by the Editor of PoETRY FOR THE Young. Primer, Part I., 16pp., 18 Lessons, 14 Illustrations, paper. Id., cl. l|d. „ 11,48 „ 43 „ 31 „ cloth ... 3d. „ „ II A, being the fli'st 32 pp. of Primer II., paper 2d. cloth 2.ld. Infant Reader, 64 pages, 65 Lessons, 32 Illustrations, cloth ... 4d. „ „ (ahridged) being the 1st 48 pp. of Infant Reader, cl. 3d. „ „ (enlarged) „ Infant Reader increased hy 16 pages, cloth 5d. Standard I. Reader, 96 pages, 51 Lessons, 29 Illustrations, cl. Ip. 6d, Ditto ditto ditto ... ... ... cloth boards 8d . „ IL „ 144 „ 62 „ 34 „ ... 9i „ IIL „ 192 „ 62 „ 25 „ ... 1/- „ IV. „ 288 „ 71 „ 26 „ ... 1/6 „ V. „ 320 „ 86 „ 22 „ ... l/£ „ VI. „ 384 „ 92 „ 25 „ ... 2/- „ Vn. „ 384 „ 79 „ 26 „ ... 2 6 " Is everything that could be wished, the authors selected being among the best in our modern literature, and the subjects full of interest and instruction. The explanatory notes and glossary, wisely placed at the end of each volume are of great value The illustrations are good." — Athkn.«;um. " The selections have been made with a judicious hand from a wide range of modern writers, and afiord the pupil an excellent variety of practice in the art of reading."— Schoolmaster. " The ' Standard Authors' Readers are real Readers."— Saturd.-^y Review. "The author is true to his title, and has given none but the best literature." — Journal of Education. THE SHORTER "STANDARD AUTHORS" READERS. In accordance with the wishes of a large number of Teachers, Messrs. Griffith, Farran & Co. have issued a shorter edition of the ".Standard Authors" Readers. ook L 96 pages, 80 pages Reading Matter... 6d. & 8d. „ IL 112 90 > ) ... 9d. „ III. l&O 130 n ... 1/-. „ IV. 176 140 )' ... 1/3. „ V 208 160 )) ... 1/4. „ VL240 180 !! ... 16. N.B.— No alterations have been made in the Lessons, the changes are confined to the omission of the later pages. The appendices are continued in each book. Nrti) Educational Books. 25 THE "STANDARD AUTHORS" READERS' READING SHEETS. BE A UTIFULL Y ILLUS TRA TED. Corresponding to tbe "Standard Authors" Readers' Primers. A Series of Twenty-four Large Sheets, each 30 inches by 22 inches, printed on stout and strong paper. The Set complete in a Paper Case ... ... ... ... 6j. od. The Sheets tacked on a roller for suspension on the wall, with Canvas Guards back and front ... ... •■. iOj. bd. Mounted on Twelve Thick Millboards ... 15^. od. The Sheets separately mounted on Canvas, untearable, and the Set tacked on Roller, with Canvas Guards back and front ... ... ... ... ... ... .. lis. od. Boards for packing (when necessary) price is. extra. " The series is an excellent one, and well suited for the infant school. . . We recommend teachers to see the set and judge for themselves." — Schoolmasteu. " They are the best of their kind yet produced." — Edlcation.\i. Times. GRAMMA R, & c, A Compendious Grammar, and Philological Handbook of the Englisir Language, for the Use of .Schools and Candidates for the Army and Civil Service Examinations. IJy J. G. CoLQUHOUN, Esq., Barrister- at-Law. Cloth, 2s. 6d. Darnell, G. Grammar made Intelligible to Children. Being a Series of short and simple Rules, with ample Explanations of livery Difficulty, and copious Exercises for Parsing; in Language adapted to tlie comprehension of very young Students. New and Revised Edition. Cloth, is. Darnell, G. Introduction to English Gram- mar. Price 3^!^. Being the first 32 pages of " Grammar made Intelligible." Darnell, T. Parsing Simplified ; an Intro- duction and Companion to all Grammars ; consisting of Plain and Easy Rules, with Parsing Lessons to each. Cloili, is. Don't : a. Manual of Mistakes and Improprieties more or less prev.alent in Conduct and Speech. By Censor. In parchment cover, price 6d. 26 Ntiu Educational Books. Grammar, (Sic. — {continued). A Word to the Wise ; or, Hints on the Current Improprieties of Expression in Writing and Speaking. By Parry G\v\^nne. Uniform with " Don't," price i.c You Should : A Manual Brief and Simple of Hints and Instruction to Men and Women. I!y N. O. I). In parchment covers, price is. Manners and Speech : A Selection from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Parchment Covers, price i^. The Letter H Past, Present, and Future. Rules for the silent H, based on Contemporary Usage, and an Appeal in behalf of WH. By Alfred Leach. Cloth limp. Price IS. Harry Hawkins's H-Book ; showing how he learned to aspirate his [-\'s. Sewed, 6d. Darnell, G. Short and Certain Road to Reading. Being a Series of Easy Lessons in which the Alphabet is so divided as to enable the Child to read many Pages of Familiar Phrases before he has learned half the letters. Cloth, 6d.; or in 4 parts, paper covers, i^d. each. Sheet Lessons. Being Extracts from the above, printed in very large bold type. Price, for the Set of Six Sheets, 6d. ; or, neatly mounted on boards, 3j-. Exercises in English. Including Questions in Analysis, Parsing, Grammar, Spelling, Prefixes, Suffixes, Word-building, c\:c. By Henky Ullyett, B. Sc, St. Mary's Sch., Folkestone. These cards are supplied in packets of 30 cards each. Standard VIl. has 24. They are provided for Standards H., IIL, IV., V., VI., VIL, price u. each. The whole series is expressly prepared to meet the requirements of the Mundella Code. Dictation Exercises. A Graduated Collection, chiefly selected from the works of Standard Authors ; for use in Schools of all grades, and for Students preparing for Oxford and Cambridge Local, Civil Service, and other Examinations. By the Editor of " Poetry for the Young." Cloth, price 2s. 6d. Recitations for Infants' Schools; Including old- fashioned Nursery Rhymes, and other Pieces suitable for chil- dren up to eight years of age, written by authors whose names guarantee merit. Compiledby Wilhei.min'A Rooi'ER. Cloth boards, price gd. Miscellaneous Books. 27" ARITHMETIC, ALGEBRA, & GEOMETRY. Darnell, G. Arithmetic made Intelligible tO' Children. Being a Series of Gradually Advancing Exer- cises, intended to employ the Reason rather than the Memory of the Pupil ; with ample Explanations of every Difficulty, irv Language adapted to the comprehension of very young Students. Cloth, is. 6d. *,* This work maybe had in Three Parts:— Part I., price 6J. Part II., price gd. Part III., price 6c/. A KEY to Parts II. & III., price js. (Part I. does not require a Key.) Cayzer, T. S. One Thousand Arithmetical Tests, or the Examiner's Assistant. Specially adapted, by a novel arrangement of the subject, for Examination Purposes, but also suited for general use in Schools. With a complete set of Examples and Models of Work. Cloth, is. 6d. All the operations of Arithmetic are presented under Forty Heads, and on opening at any one of the Examination Papers, a complete set of examples appears, carefully graduated. Key with Solutions of all the Examples in the One Thousand Arithmetical Tests. Price 4J-. Gd. cloth. The Answers only, price is. 6d. cloth. One Thousand Algebraical Tests ; on the same plan. 8vo. Cloth 2.c 6d. Answers to the Algekraical Tests, 2s. Cd. cloth. An Aid to Arithmetic. ByE. Diver, M.D. Fcap. 8vo., cloth, price 6d. The Essentials of Geometry, Plane and Solid, as taught in Germany and France. For Students preparing for Examination, Cadets in Naval and Military Schools, Techiiical Classes, &c. By J. R. IMorell, formerly one of Her Majesty's Inspectors of Schools. With numerous Diagrams. Cloth, 2s. Test Exercises in Arithmetic and in Mental Arithmetic. A Series of Seven Packets of Duplex Cards for the Seven Standards, founded on the lalesi requirements of the .AIiiiKlella Code, and in accordance with the revised in- •structions issued to H.M. Inspectors of Schools. Price One Shilling per Packet of Thirty Cards. 28 French and German Works. FRENCH & GERMAN WORKS. New Method of French Conversation. By Professor C. M. Marchanix A simple, clear, and most rapid system of acquiring the language in two months, by sentences printed as they are spoken, and explained by remarks and rules. Fourth edition, crown 8vo., cloth elegant, price 3^. 6a'. L'Abecedaire of French Pronunciation, a M.inual for Teachers and Students. By G. Leprevost (of Paris), Professor of Languages. Crown Svo. Cloth, 2s. Le Babillard : an Amusing Introduction to the French Language. By a French Lady. Ninth Edition. i6 Plates. Cloth, zs. Les Jeunes Narrateurs, ou Petits Contes Moraux. With a Key to the Difficult Words and Phrases. Third Edition. iSmo. Cloth, 2s. The Pictorial French Grammar. For the Use of Children. Forming a most pleasant and easy introduction to the Language. By Marin de la Voye. With 80 illus- trations. Fcap. Svo. Cloth, 15. bd. Bellenger's French Word and Phrase Book ; contaming a Select Vocabulary and Dialogues. Cloth limp, \s. Der Schwatzer ; or, The Prattler. An Amusing Introduction to the German Language. Sixteen Illustrations. Cloth, 2J. NEW BOOK ON SCIENCE TEACHING. Adopted by the London School Board. Preparation for Science Teaching : a Manual of Suggestions to Teachers. By John Spanton, Translator of Chevreul's Book on " Colour," <S:c. Small crown 8vo., price \s. 6d. N'eedlework Manuals. 29 NEEDLEWORK MANUALS AND APPLIANCES. RECOMMENDED BY THE EDUCATION DEPARTMENT. A Hand-book for Needlework Prize Associa- tions. Issued under the direct authority of the London Institute for the Advancement of Wain Needlework. Price is. Needlework Demonstration Sheets (19 in number). Exhibiting by Diagrams and Descriptions the formation of the Stitches in Elementary Needlework. By Mrs. A. Flover. 30 by 22 inches, price gJ. each ; or, mounted on rollers and varnished, 2s. 6d. Plain Needlework, arranged in Si.x Standards, with Hints for the Management of Class and Appendix on Simul- taneous Teaching. l]y Mrs. A. Floyer, Sewed, 6d. Plain Knitting- and Mending, arranged in Si.x Standards, with Diagrams. By the same Author. Sewed, 6d. Plain Cutting out for Standards IV,, V., and VI., as now required ])y the Government Educational Depart- ment. Adapted to the Principles of Elementary Geometry. By the same Author. Sewed, is. A Set of Diagrams referred to in the Book may be had separately, printed on stout paper and enclosed in an envelope. Price is. Sectional Paper, for tise with the above, gd. per quire. Lined Paper, for "E.xtensions." 36in. by 46in. Price is. yi. per dozen sheets. Threaders. 5d. perioo; postage 3d. extra. 30 Needleivork Appliances, Needlework, &c. — [continued). Plain Hints for those who have to Examine Needlework, whether for Government Grants, Prize Associations, or local Managers ; to which is added Skeleton Demonstration Lessons to be used with the Demonstration Frames, and a Glossary of Terms used in the Needlework required from the Scholars in Public Elementary Schools. By Mrs. A. Floyer, Author of " Plain Needlework." Price 2s. The Demonstration Frame, for Class Teaching, on which the formation of almost any Stitch may be exhibited, is used in the best German Schools. It may be had complete with Special Needle and Cord. Price 5^. 6d. A Stand for the above may also be had, price "Js. 6d. Needlework, Schedule III., exemplified and Illustrated. By Mrs. E. A. Curtis. Cloth limp, with 30 illustrations, is. •'Needle Drill," "Position Drill," " Pia Drill," " Thimble Drill." Price 3d. Drawing Book, Needlework Schedule III. Price yi. Directions for Knitting Jerseys and Vests, with scale for various sizes. By M. C. G. Especially suitable for elderly Ladies or Invalids. Dedicated by kind permission' to Iler Grace the Duchess of Marlborough. Sewed, (>d. Crewel Work. Fifteen Designs in Bold and Con- ventional character, capable of being quickly and easily worked. With complete instnictions. By Zeta, Author of "Ladies' W'ork, and How to Sell it," and including Patterns for Counter- panes, Bed Hangings, Curtains, Furniture Covers, Chimney- piece Borders, Piano Backs, Table Cloths, Table Covers, &c., <S:c. Demy, 2s. 6d. Designs for Church Embroidery and Crewel Work from Old Examples. Eighteen Sheets, containing a Set of upwards of Sixty Patterns, with descriptive letterpress, collected and arranged by Miss E. S. Hartsiiorne. In a handsome cloth case, $s. I Miscellaneous Books. 31 MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS. The New Law of Bankruptcy. Containing the Bankruptcy Act, 1883, with Introduction, Tables, Notes, and an Index ; to which is added a Supplement, containing the Orders, Forms, Fees, and List of Official Receivers. By Archibald Bence Jones, M. A., Barrister-at-Law. New Edition enlarged. Crown Svo., cloth lioards, price 5^-. Poker : How to Play it. A Sketch of the Great American Game, with its Laws and Rules. By one of its Victims. Revised Edition. Cloth limp. Price One Shilling. *' Great Paul," from its Casting to its Dedication. By S. J. M.A.CKIE, CE. With a Preface on Bells, by Ur. John Stainer, M.A., Organist of St. Paul's. Illustrated. Price One Shilling. Bicycles and Tricycles, Past and Present, A com- plete History of the Machines from their infancy to the present time, with Hints on How to Buy and How to Ride a Bicycle or a Tricycle, descriptions of the great Feats and Great INIcets, &c., &c. By Chaki.es Stencer. Illustrated. 160 pp. Fcap. Svo, price One Shilling, or cloth, \s. 6J. The Cyclist's Road Book : compiled for the Use of Bicyclists and Pedestrians, being a Complete Guide to the Roads and Cross Roads of England, Scotland, and Wales, with a list of the best Hotels and notable places, &c., with map. By Charles Spencer. Paper, is.; cloth, is. 6d. The Confessions of a Medium. Crown 8vo., illustrated, price 2s. Everyday Life in our Public Schools. Sketched by Head Scholars. Edited by Charles Eyre Pascoe. With numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo., cloth, new and cheaper edition, price 2,^.6d. IVorJcs for Distrilnition. Miscellaneous Books — {continued). On Foot in France ; being a series of Papers contributed to the Standard, by FRANK Ives Scudamore, Esq., C.B. Post 8vo., cloth, zs. A Complete Guide to the Game of Chess, from the alphabet to the solution and construction of Problems. Containing also some Historical Notes. By H. F. L. Meyer, Chess Contributor to " The Boy's Own Paper," formerly Chess Editor of " Hannoversche Anzeigen," "The Gentleman's Journal," and " Eco Americano." Cloth, price Js. 6d. WORKS FOR DISTRIBUTION. A Woman's Secret ; or, How to make Home Happy. Thirty-third Thousand. iSmo., sewed, 6d. By the same Author, uniform in size and price. Woman's Work ; or, How she can Help the Sick. Nineteenth Thousand. A Chapter of Accidents ; or, the Mother's Assistant in Cases of Burns, Scalds, Cuts, &c. Tenth Thousand. Pay to-day, Trust to-morrow ; illustrating the Evils of the Tally System. Seventh Thousand. Nursery Work ; or, Hannah Baker's First Place- Fifth Thousand. The Cook and the Doctor ; Cheap Recipes and Useful Remedies. Sewed, 2d. Home Difficukies. A Few Words on the Servant Question. Sewed, ^d. ^ \^'^ \,< ^ o o so SOUTHERN REGfnL°/ ^""'°^"'a ^ ^ '^ " ' 1 305 De Neve Drive Srkin S'^"^"^ '^AC.L.TY • _R£turnthl^n^^^ ^^^5^^^i!^!l!£!li!j?^^^ ^ ^<?Aavai! '■ 1 w *• '/ ^ vX ^lOS-i 58 108 9975 ^' «3 . (IC, > ■ViV .^' » V J ^ V '-' M J ■ yC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBWBYFAg^ 'j^i 000 375 587 3 v(a>f> J ,u- "^^^ y- :^ ^v>:lOSAKCflfJ> >: 'C3 '3'li3AINiV3^V' f^^^. ''%i ^^^-IJBRARYQ. iiUl'^^ -\r ^^ jO^ AV^M'NivFR.9/4 ^iosA.vcfifr.> ,<oF-rAnFOM('. ^.' ^i'iiJDNvsoi^'^^' ''^/iii3AiN(i-3Wv^ ^c'Aavjian-^^^ ^^Aavaani^"^ ^. .^- .^^ .^ «ii^- t^A