THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR
 
 THE 
 
 MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 JIND OTHER <POEMS 
 
 WHITCOMBE & TOMBS, LIMITED 
 
 LONDON MELBOURNE 
 CHRISTCHURCH, WELLINGTON AND DUNEDIN, N.Z. 
 
 1912
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD. 
 LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE following poems were composed in New Zealand, 
 beneath the gleam of the Southern Cross a country 
 wherein all of man's works are new, while those of 
 Nature are very old. There, summer heats prevail in 
 December, and winter's frosts in July. The subjects 
 which it offers for poetry are not those of the Old World, 
 but the aspects of primitive nature and the traditions 
 and beliefs of a barbarous race. The reader should bear 
 these facts in mind when perusing my verses. 
 
 Part II contains some Maori legends clothed in a 
 poetical garb. Maori legends are Polynesian legends, 
 with local alterations. Few are worth preserving. The 
 Maoris, before the advent of Europeans to the islands 
 which they inhabit, were warlike cannibals, sunk in 
 superstition, without a written language, or any clearly 
 denned religious beliefs, if indeed they can be said to 
 have possessed religious beliefs, properly so called, at all. 
 The men whose memories they cherished were warriors 
 who had distinguished themselves by the slaughter of 
 a multitude of human beings, and by nothing else. It 
 is not in such an unfavourable clime that we could expect 
 the rich blooms of imagination to unclose, or great men 
 to arise whose works challenge the admiration of 
 
 7O422S
 
 PREFACE 
 
 mankind. Maori legends abound in puerilities and 
 obscenities, and often with inconsistencies. Examples 
 of the last will be found in the poems relating to Hina, 
 or Ina, as her name is variously pronounced. Never- 
 theless, some of the legends are interesting as showing 
 the crude beliefs and strange fancies of a primitive race. 
 I have, of necessity, been compelled to grant myself a 
 certain amount of poetical licence in narrating the 
 traditions which I have versified. 
 
 CHAS. W. PURNELL. 
 LONDON, June 1912. 
 
 vi
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 PART I 
 
 PACE 
 
 AEOLIAN HARP, THE 143 
 
 ALL'S WELL 247 
 
 ASPIRATION, AN 233 
 
 BATTLE OF LIFE, THE 240 
 
 BELLS OF THE PAST ...... 163 
 
 BIRD-SONGS ....... Il6 
 
 BLACKBIRD, THE . . . . . .Ill 
 
 BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT, THE . . . 235 
 
 BLOW SOFT, YE WINDS 95 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER ..... l82 
 
 BY THE RIVER. . . . . . . IO6 
 
 CASTAWAY, THE . . . . .124 
 
 CHAMBERS OF THE SEA, THE . ; 64 
 
 CHANGELESS FOR EVER . . . ' I . 105 
 
 CHURCH BELLS, THE . . . ' . . . 147 
 
 CITY OF DREAMS, THE 37 
 
 CITY, THE 207 
 
 COMET, THE ....... 9
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 COPPER BEECH, THE 154 
 
 CORAL ISLE, THE ...... 223 
 
 DAYS OF ARCADY, THE ..... 22/ 
 
 DELHI DURBAR, THE ...... 257 
 
 DELPHI igi 
 
 DREAM, A 117 
 
 DREAMS 107 
 
 ENCHANTED LAND, THE 
 
 EVENING . . . ,, 
 
 EVENING MUSINGS ...... 
 
 FAIRY LAND ....... I4r 
 
 FALLING LEAVES l68 
 
 FANCY 135 
 
 FANCY, A. . ; . . . . . . 219 
 
 FATED SHIP, THE ...... 70 
 
 FIRE, THE . 214 
 
 FLOWER GATHERER, THE ..... 179 
 
 FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, THE .... 217 
 
 FROM ROCKY LEDGE I2/ 
 
 GARDEN, THE ....... 157 
 
 GLIMPSES 139 
 
 GOBLIN LAND 2& 
 
 GOLD ........ 211 
 
 GUITAR SONG, A 149 
 
 viii
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HARVEST OF DAYS, THE ..... 243 
 
 HYPATIA . . . . . . , : . 198 
 
 IDUNA . . . . . . . l88 
 
 IDYLL, AN . . . . . . 232 
 
 INVITATION, THE . . . : ''.'" . . 13! 
 
 ISLAND IN THE SEA, THE 97 
 
 LAMENT, A . . . . . . . 109 
 
 LIFE . . 255 
 
 LITTLE THINGS . , ... . . 176 
 
 LO, WE HAVE GROWN MORE WISE . . . 133 
 
 LOVE, THE GARDENER . ( . . . . 104 
 
 MAGIC TUNE, THE . . .- ' , . . 145 
 
 MEADOW, THE . . *'-'. . . I&2 
 
 MEDITATIONS . . . ... . 137 
 
 MESSENGER, THE ' . . ' . . . 34 
 
 MODERN ARTHUR, THE . ... . 3 
 
 MONK, THE . . .< . . . . 201 
 
 NATURE . . .' . . . . . 122 
 
 NEW ZEALAND SHEPHERD'S REVERIE, THE . i 170 
 
 OMDURMAN . . . . . . 204 
 
 ORCHARD, THE ...... l6o 
 
 PARTING WAYS, THE ..... 253 
 
 PEOPLE OF THE SEA, THE ..... 68 
 
 PHANTOM SHIP, THE ...... 60 
 
 ix
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 RAILWAY TRAIN, THE 237 
 
 REVERIE, A 22 
 
 SEAGULL, THE ...... 53 
 
 SEA REMEMBERS NOT, THE . . . . 58 
 
 SHIPS ........ 40 
 
 SIMILE, A ....... 242 
 
 SINGERS OF THE PAST, THE .... 230 
 
 SIRENS, THE . . . . . . . 184 
 
 SKETCH, A ....... 225 
 
 SOME WORDS . . . . . . 256 
 
 SOMETIMES, WHEN FLUSHED WITH PRIDE OF LIFE . 25! 
 
 SONG OF SOLITUDE, THE . . . . IK) 
 
 SONG OF THE SEA, THE 50 
 
 SONG OF THE SUN, THE . .... .82 
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON . ... . -73 
 
 SONNETS .... .,;,;. . . . 259 
 
 SOUL, THE . . . . . . 244 
 
 SPRING 165 
 
 STARS, THE 85 
 
 STORY OF CRACOW, A IQ4 
 
 THRUSH, THE 113 
 
 TREE, THE . 151 
 
 TROPIC ISLES 221 
 
 TRUE LIFE, THE 249
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE, 
 
 VISION, A ....... 31 
 
 VOICES OF THE EARTH, THE . . ; ., . 
 
 WARSHIP, THE . . . . .' . -55 
 
 WINDS, THE . . . . . ' '. . 8& 
 WORLD AND ITS WAYS, THE . . . .2$, 
 
 WORLD OUR HOME, THE ..... 92, 
 
 PART II 
 
 ANTARCTIC, THE . ' . . . ; 
 
 AUSTRAL STEAMSHIP, THE ..... 
 
 BATTLE OF THE SEA BIRDS WITH THE LAND BIRDS, 
 
 THE . . . . . . . . 309 
 
 CHANGED LAND, A . . ., . 376 
 
 COMING OF CAPTAIN COOK TO NEW ZEALAND, THE 347 
 
 EASTER ISLAND .... . . . 364 
 
 FALL OF THE KAURI TREE, THE . . 388 
 
 FISHING OF MAUI, THE . . . '. 269 
 
 INA . . . . . . " . 324 
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE . . '. 277 
 
 LAST OF THE MOAS, THE ..... 337 
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA, THE . 29! 
 
 MACQUARIE ISLAND ...... 370 
 
 MAEROERO, THE ...... 327' 
 
 xi
 
 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS 
 
 PAC.E 
 
 MAID OF THE MIST, THE 284 
 
 MAORIS' EMIGRATION FROM HAWAIKI, THE . . 329 
 
 MARAMA AND INA ...... 321 
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA ...*.. 340 
 
 NEW ZEALAND . . . . . . . 358 
 
 PACIFIC OCEAN, THE 366 
 
 SOLANDER, THE . . . . . . 361 
 
 SONS OF THE SOUTH . . . . . 386 
 
 SOUTHERN ALPS, THE . . ,, . . 350 
 
 SOUTHERN NORSEMEN, THE .... 353 
 
 SOUTHERN OCEAN, THE . . . . . 382 
 
 SPIRIT OF THE SOUTHERN GLOBE, THE . . 379 
 
 STORY OF MANGAIA, A . . . -' . 332 
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA . . . V . . 297 
 
 TANGAROA . . ... . . . 356 
 
 TE REINGA . . ...., . . . 274 
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA . . , 3 I 5 
 
 TONGARIRO . . . . . . . 390 
 
 Xll
 
 PART I
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 PRELUDE 
 
 THIS painful lot of modern days, 
 The weariness to sit and gaze 
 For aye upon a settled mode 
 Of artificial life a load 
 Gigantic and immovable 
 On Arthur's spirit slowly fell, 
 On Arthur with a fancy wild 
 And aspirations undefiled, 
 A mind replete with ancient lore 
 Of deeds that echo on the shore 
 Of memory, as the solemn sea 
 Beats on the land eternally, 
 And like a war-cry 'mid the strife 
 Strong thrilled a wish throughout his life 
 To clothe the pure and glowing thought 
 With earnest deeds by gold unbought 
 From innate virtue flowing free 
 Along a vale of poetry, 
 And since he did not care to feel 
 Or witness woes he could not heal 
 He shunned the crowded city where 
 Rich commerce gives a petty share 
 To thousands while in wealthy state 
 The full-fed trader sits elate. 
 3
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Long rambled he on Norway's coast, 
 Where from the clouds the glacier sinks 
 With slow progression, like a ghost 
 That through the tired hamlet slinks, 
 Unto the fiord, cold and lorn. 
 The wan light loometh there forlorn, 
 Far northwards trend the splintered rocks, 
 Fierce at their base the hoarse sea knocks, 
 Creeps to the Pole the precipice, 
 Lost there amid a world of ice 
 Until the nimble Saxon blood 
 Stirring awoke another mood, 
 Then haled he to a Southern clime 
 To view the relics of past time, 
 And dwell in Greece an idle day 
 And dream how once there sailed away 
 A band of heroes from its shore 
 For distant Colchis th' Argo bore 
 The heroes, and their leader's name 
 Was Jason, full of power and fame. 
 They sought a magic fleece, which borne 
 From Colchis past the Golden Horn, 
 Laid at the feet of Pelias down, 
 Would change into a royal crown. 
 Those were the days when men were young, 
 And lightly their fresh carols rung 
 Across a new world and the free 
 The unexplored and boundless sea. 
 But though such rambles might procure 
 A pleasure delicate and pure, 
 And elevate the mental sense 
 Unto luxurious eminence, 
 Yet Arthur ne'er could be content 
 4
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 But something lacked where'er he went, 
 It was not lack of power to breathe 
 The air of pleasure, but a high 
 Benevolence that could achieve 
 For all mankind deep sympathy ; 
 And had there been from out the world 
 A single cry of anguish hurled, 
 One human creature in distress, 
 It had impaired his happiness. 
 And when he roamed through cities where 
 The arts bloom in a fertile air, 
 But most amid the populace, 
 The eager and peculiar race 
 That dwell in London, share its pride, 
 And fill its causeways like a tide, 
 He saw the evil of the time, 
 The pauper and the son of crime, 
 A breeding mass of loathsome sin, 
 Palace without, a tomb within, 
 A festering canker and a dread, 
 A skeleton with beauty wed. 
 No mortal arm, though stanch its blow, 
 A host of Titans could o'erthrow, 
 And Arthur felt his soul wax dim 
 Amid such poverty and sin ; 
 The self-same track, both soon and late, 
 Trod o'er and o'er with tutored gait, 
 An endless band in ceaseless reel 
 Revolving on a narrow wheel. 
 And thus to his most cherished friend, 
 Ralph Waldron, soldier of renown, 
 He spake : " Shall we not end 
 These idle days and batter down 
 5
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 The wall of custom with our deeds ? 
 This dull reiteration breeds 
 A sluggish and mischievous grief, 
 A want that ever craves relief. 
 Beneath the blue Australian sky 
 Where warmly breathes the Northern air 
 An English race right manfully 
 Builds up new homes and cities there ; 
 Lo, in the morning of their fame 
 Methinks I hear a clarion shrill 
 The splendour of their day proclaim 
 In burning tones that strangely thrill, 
 For surely there will men be wise 
 And make of life a pleasant lot, 
 While Art, descending from the skies, 
 Shall glorify the humblest cot." 
 As when, at some high festival, 
 The curtains of the evening fall, 
 Gleams suddenly a beacon's blaze 
 Illumining the dusky haze, 
 Then instant from a neighbouring height 
 A friendly pyre glares red and bright, 
 So answered Waldron readily 
 With Arthur's thoughts in sympathy : 
 " If but the battle loomed afar, ' 
 
 The frenzy and the din of war, 
 The loud artillery, clad with smoke, 
 Men falling like the riven oak, 
 The bayonets glittering through the heath, 
 And over all the laurel wreath, 
 It would be my desire to go 
 Like other soldiers 'gainst the foe. 
 But now the nations rest in peace 
 6
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 And martial conflicts all surcease, 
 
 While o'er the mart and thronged exchange 
 
 The fox-eyed people keenly range ; 
 
 The ledger for the sword they hold, 
 
 And cheat each other of their gold. 
 
 Much should I love adventure new, 
 
 Whose breezes would my youth renew, 
 
 Erect the spirit proud and free, 
 
 Like rolling charge of cavalry." 
 
 And many another countenance 
 
 Grew flushed at Arthur's high pretence, 
 
 And dreamed that on a distant shore 
 
 There must be happiness in store, 
 
 More spacious seas, more lustrous skies, 
 
 Ungarnered fields of bold emprise. 
 
 What recks it that their names and lot 
 
 Like morning dew are now forgot ? 
 
 Their hopes and aspirations flown 
 
 Like leaves by autumn breezes blown ? 
 
 The work which by their hands was wrought 
 
 May have been with some merit fraught ; 
 
 True labour is not wasted, though 
 
 The workman lies the sod below, 
 
 The offspring of his deeds remain 
 
 A widespread, fructifying gain, 
 
 As fertile seeds of plant obscure 
 
 Are borne upon the wind secure 
 
 Over a spacious continent, 
 
 And lo ! in mind and body spent, 
 
 The traveller sees the hilltop won 
 
 A thousand blossoms in the sun ; 
 
 Tis thus the actions of the sage 
 
 Will flourish in a future age. 
 
 7
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 THE VOYAGE 
 
 Glows the sunlight on the ocean, 
 
 And each wave vibrating 
 Joyously with rapid motion 
 
 Bears aloft its silver crest. 
 Buoyantly the ship progresseth, 
 
 While behind the silver foam 
 To the far horizon traileth 
 
 Where the tired sea birds rest. 
 
 Throbs the engine, slowly, faster, 
 
 Driving on its noble charge, 
 Like a pitiless, cold master, 
 
 Giving neither rest nor marge ; 
 Proudly flies in royal circles, 
 
 Silently in thought alone, 
 Albatross, the king of sea birds, 
 
 Musing on his airy throne. 
 
 Once the sunset hid in splendour 
 
 Lands mysterious in the West, 
 Where the Fount of Life welled freely 
 
 From the rock's relenting breast ; 
 Once the Southern Cross resplendent 
 
 With its golden-pointed crest 
 Watched strange nations gently sinking 
 
 Night by night into their rest. 
 
 Then the mariner bold-hearted, 
 On his fragile bark and rude, 
 
 From his time-worn course departed, 
 Broke the ocean's solitude,
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Saw in fancy many a monster 
 Wallowing in frolic mood, 
 
 All the Nereids disporting, 
 Lively, waiting to be wooed. 
 
 Oft the sudden spectre flitted 
 
 Grim athwart the trembling mast, 
 When the stormy night-clouds knitted, 
 
 Closely woven, by the blast. 
 Hung around the ship a horror, 
 
 Seemed the light for ever past, 
 Gone the day, unto dark Hades 
 
 Seemed the fated vessel cast. 
 
 They are fled, these old romances, 
 
 Nothing now beneath the sun 
 Remains unknown ; lo ! it glances 
 
 On strange wires that lightly run 
 Right across the barren region 
 
 Where the Israelite begun 
 All the wandering and the penance 
 
 Which the Land of Promise won. 
 
 Now the night, with many shadows, 
 
 Slowly darkens all the sky, 
 One by one her gems displaying, 
 
 Gladdens the sad sailor's eye, 
 Breaking through the flaming waters 
 
 Fishes rush of monstrous size, 
 Far below the mollusc dwelleth 
 
 Silently for centuries. 
 
 9
 
 THE ARRIVAL 
 
 Slow fades all romance from the eye, 
 Yet it, alas ! will surely die, 
 Killed by the lack of all it needs, 
 The sweet beliefs on which it feeds. 
 Its blossoms, drooping one by one 
 Before their beauty had begun 
 To be distinguished or with meet 
 Full-odoured fragrance was complete, 
 Shall fall, and scattered o'er the ground 
 By some chance wanderer may be found, 
 Though in the soul is haply nursed 
 The seeds of flowers of hardier kind 
 Which, favoured by the time, shall burst 
 Their shackles, and forthwith unwind 
 A scroll of colours that will break 
 Deep-hued as any mountain lake. 
 So when our early fancies dead, 
 Our youthful hopes and wishes fled, 
 Perchance a richer light appears 
 Illumining our riper years, 
 The world, as if some angel form 
 With Heaven's eternal beauty warm 
 Had cast upon its sombre fields 
 The splendour of ten thousand shields, 
 Puts on a lustre that beguiles 
 The senses like a fairy's smiles. 
 
 Thus Arthur came, with fancy dight, 
 Unto the land Zealandia hight, 
 And dreamed that in this land might be 
 Souls with his own in sympathy ; 
 10
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 But, lo ! the spirit of the Time 
 
 Was breathing in the Southern clime, 
 
 The hungry lust for gold made sick 
 
 The feverish body politic, 
 
 Of worth a sole decisive test 
 
 With riches has this man been blessed ? 
 
 'Natheless a nobler life would find 
 
 The better treasures of the mind. 
 
 Kind Nature has, with generous hand, 
 
 With beauty decked this favoured land ; 
 
 The visions that all Nature dress 
 
 In robes of varied loveliness, 
 
 Though from the sordid eye concealed, 
 
 Are to the purer soul revealed. 
 
 Thus sombre clouds, with mantles dun, 
 
 Conceal the brightness of the sun, 
 
 Yet still unceasingly it burns 
 
 With splendour of the heavenly urns. 
 
 Then Arthur said to Ralph " No goal 
 
 This people have in view ; the sole 
 
 End of their being is to heap 
 
 A little gold ere their last sleep ; 
 
 Let us the busy town forsake 
 
 And with our comrades now betake 
 
 Ourselves unto some distant part 
 
 Where Nature undisturbed by art 
 
 Serenely reigns ; and there will we 
 
 Dwell in a new community 
 
 Where we may taste, exempt from strife, 
 
 The merits of a simple life." 
 
 II
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 THE FOREST 
 
 A deep, dark wooded ravine, cloven through 
 A mighty pile of rock, rent sharp asunder 
 
 In olden time, when the Earth's portals flew 
 Wide open at some god's imperious thunder ; 
 
 In sombre clusters, lo ! the tall pines grew, 
 The cloudlets resting on their leaves of umber ; 
 
 Slow flew the fierce-eyed hawk adown the glen 
 
 And marked the tui and the cowering wren. 
 
 Two tents, rude fashioned, by a boulder's side 
 Were pitched, and through the close-set trees 
 
 Was heard the sleepy sound of a cool tide 
 Descending from a height ; a gentle breeze 
 
 In lazy gusts rose fitfully and died 
 Away into a calm of luscious ease : 
 
 It seemed the land of which old fables tell, 
 
 Where dreamy lotus-eaters idly dwell. 
 
 Here lived our friends at least the greater part, 
 For some, when novel doctrines were avowed, 
 
 Because those signs were not upon their chart 
 Rejoined forthwith the unreflecting crowd. 
 
 To fill the company with noble art 
 
 Was Arthur's wish, but found few men endowed 
 
 With minds impatient of the earthly slime 
 
 And fewer still who cared to wrestle with the time. 
 
 Yet haply they were wise ; for who can dwell 
 
 For aye amid a pure and subtle air ? 
 Man is half animal, and cannot quell 
 
 By proud desires his grosser wants, nor bear 
 12
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 One half his load alone ; perchance 'twere well 
 
 If he had drifted without thought or care ; 
 For wisest thought prevents not tear nor sigh, 
 And death's sure foot creeps on unfalteringly. 
 
 His chief new follower a rude, rough man, 
 
 With name Tom Carson was this carle bedight, 
 
 Unlettered that's to say, he could not scan 
 
 A line of Homer, nor knew who ranged the height 
 
 Of hoar Olympus, nor how Hector ran 
 
 From fierce Achilles when the direful fight 
 
 Rang round the walls of Troy, where Trojans stood 
 
 Arid saw their leader fall, the brave and good. 
 
 Nor was he versed in commerce' devious ways, 
 
 Where sharpened wit contends with sharpened wit, 
 
 And lust of gold enthralls the feverish days 
 While from the heart all noble passions flit ; 
 
 The fane, bereft of holy prayer and praise, 
 For Mammon's sinful worship only fit ; 
 
 While all the joys that social pleasure brings 
 
 To Carson seemed the weariest of things. 
 
 He loved the solemn forest, the dark sea, 
 
 For ever changing in its beauty, as those know 
 
 Who dwell upon its shores and watch its free 
 And merry sportings in the sunshine's glow, 
 
 Its ripples when the moon smiles placidly, 
 
 Its foaming summits when the storm winds blow. 
 
 And there had coiled, with many evils rife, 
 
 The love of whisky round his chequered life. 
 
 13
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 In youth he wed a maiden, but she died. 
 
 Slight was her outward beauty, but her eyes 
 Shone with a tender lustre, and she tried 
 
 With fairy arts and innocent disguise 
 To lead this wayward man and gently guide 
 
 Him to the place where tranquil comfort lies. 
 Her soul was full of love, soft and sincere, 
 Warm as a summer sunset in Cashmere. 
 
 If he in times mediaeval had breathed, 
 A Paladin brave-hearted had impelled 
 
 The Christian 'gainst the infidel, and wreathed 
 Wild romance with the piety of eld, 
 
 Filled with religious zeal would have achieved 
 
 Conspicuous deeds, and Christ's dear name upheld, 
 
 But now he rusted, like a sword at rest, 
 
 Consumed by his own energies suppressed. 
 
 Hard by the small encampment, 'mid the trees, 
 A row of cabins stood ; scarred trunks of fern 
 
 Composed their walls ; the soft and sultry breeze 
 Played lightly o'er the nikau's graceful fronds 
 
 Upon the roof-tops ; and round about all these 
 Rude huts young children sported, nor did learn 
 
 One word from books ; nor intellectual wealth 
 
 Had they, but perfect freedom and good health. 
 
 Their fathers, gathered here from many lands, 
 French, English, Yankees, natives of Peru, 
 
 Broke up the soil, and sought with eager hands 
 The precious ore for which most mortals sue ; 
 
 And lo ! swift rumour said that, in rich bands, 
 The yellow gold had met their gladdened view. 
 
 14
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Then, with the fever flushed and minds intent, 
 All Arthur's friends, save Roland, thither went. 
 
 Man loves adventure, but loves gold still more, 
 The two conjoined do lead him where they may, 
 
 The trader through hot deserts takes his store 
 
 Though hosts of plundering Arabs haunt the way ; 
 
 The seas may swell, the winds and surges roar, 
 The laden ship regards not their affray. 
 
 A strange desire to join in the wild quest 
 
 Soon Arthur and his steadfast friend possessed. 
 
 It was a life new, rugged, harsh, and wild ; 
 
 They laboured hard, and by the hatchet's stroke 
 The huge pines fell and o'er their trunks up-piled 
 
 The cataract in a thousand bubbling broke ; 
 Deep in the rocks, with ardent hopes beguiled, 
 
 The miners crept, and the dull echoes woke. 
 And oft the sulphury train, with sudden might, 
 Brought rock and trees down hurtling from the height. 
 
 The forest gorges where the fairies roved, 
 
 Their only refuge on the noisy Earth, 
 Were spoiled of those cool groves which they once loved, 
 
 Where ancient kauris of gigantic girth 
 Looked on the clustered fern trees and approved 
 
 The fountain laughing at the streamlet's birth ; 
 A few green islets on the distant sea 
 Slumbered amid the sunlight peacefully. 
 
 Coarse heaps of " mullock " soon defiled the glen, 
 The tramway groped along the mountain side, 
 
 The freeborn stream, that rushed and sparkled when 
 Amongst the boulders it dispersed its tide, 
 15
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Within restricted bounds (as oft with men) 
 
 In dull and decorous course was made to glide. 
 Yet still the spirit lived, and when the gale 
 Beat high the waters burst their narrow pale. 
 
 This life peculiar had a nameless charm, 
 The heirloom of the ruddy mountaineer 
 
 Who roams untrammelled and without alarm 
 Looks down the precipice that droppeth sheer. 
 
 Acuter grew the senses, and the arm 
 More vigorous in its temper did appear. 
 
 And in the evening round a mighty fire 
 
 The miners seated joined in merry choir. 
 
 By all Tom Carson, with complete accord, 
 " The prince of singers " was allowed to be, 
 
 A full rich tenor, carelessly he poured 
 Forth wild resonant floods of harmony. 
 
 Strange were the songs he sang, and like a sword 
 They racked and pierced through all hypocrisy ; 
 
 Full oft he sang some fierce prophetic strain, 
 
 And loud his comrades shouted the refrain. 
 
 But Roland, by such reckless lyrics vexed, 
 Would leave the circle, and within his tent 
 
 Retired would meditate where duty next 
 Might call him where duty bade he went ; 
 
 " Fear God, honour the King," his favourite text, 
 Whose vigorous threads with all his arts were blent ; 
 
 And when the bullets hurtled through the air 
 
 They fired his soul as if a god were near. 
 
 A Havelock he, if time and chance had made 
 An opening for his own peculiar skill ; 
 16
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 A Blake perhaps had but his lot been laid 
 When Britons fought on land or sea at will, 
 
 'Natheless his temper was too dull and staid, 
 And lacked the joy which doth the senses thrill ; 
 
 Less great than Cromwell and his stern compeers 
 
 We best like Rupert and his cavaliers. 
 
 Month after month thus passed, but little gold 
 Repaid the miners' toil ; and then a drought 
 
 Oppressed the land, and where the brooks had rolled 
 Impetuous through the woods in lusty rout 
 
 Dry stones and pebbles lay ; no longer trolled 
 The birds in chirrupings their gladness out ; 
 
 And when the people saw the fierce sun wane 
 
 They almost wished it would not rise again. 
 
 The forest leafless, sapless, broken-boughed, 
 Became a mass of torches which a chance 
 
 Might light to utter ruin ; the wind soughed 
 Freshly no more, nor made the leaflets dance ; 
 
 Thick on the ground there lay a leafy crowd 
 
 Struck down by haughty Phoebus' gold-tipped lance. 
 
 One day the chance happed, and the ruddy fire 
 
 Seized on the trees and made the hills a pyre. 
 
 Quick marched the crackling flame ; a sullen roar, 
 Not loud, but fearful, rumbled through the wood, 
 
 While pitchy smoke in floating masses bore 
 The burning fragments of its parent's food 
 
 E'en to the camp, and shook the embers o'er 
 The places where the rustic cabins stood. 
 
 Then rushed the miners from their hollow " drives " 
 
 To save their homes, as bees their threatened hives, 
 c 17
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Full fearful of the fierce advancing foe 
 
 They feverishly removed from out the frail 
 
 Tinder-like huts, on which the wind did blow, 
 
 Their household goods, and each with these did hale 
 
 Unto the tunnels, there unharmed to stand 
 With goods, wife, children, till the fiery gale 
 
 Was past, for vain indeed the hope 
 
 With such a torrid hurricane to cope. 
 
 Though effort great by every man was made, 
 Scarce were the humble chattels rescued quite 
 
 Than all the camp was hid in smoky shade 
 Traversed by tortuous streaks of reddish light ; 
 
 Half-choked the women cowered down and laid 
 Fast hold upon their children in their fright ; 
 
 Reft from the world by walls of glowing flame 
 
 They looked for death until the morning came. 
 
 Ascending in the dim and mystic dawn 
 
 Weird wreaths of smoke rose slowly from the ground 
 While here and there a blackened trunk and torn 
 
 Broke gauntly through the mist that curled around, 
 Like priests of Uz by thought and famine worn 
 
 Whom break of day at dread enchantments found, 
 Before the blasting presence of their might 
 The glorious forest had evanished quite. 
 
 The danger now was past, and as the day 
 Grew slowly older sank th' expiring fires, 
 
 The smoke dispersed reluctantly away, 
 And left a multitude of glowing pyres 
 
 Whereon the little flames did glistening play 
 With their irregular and tinted spires ; 
 18
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 But not till afternoon the miners dared 
 Review their camp to see if aught was spared. 
 
 One hapless wretch by bitter luck had strayed 
 
 Into the forest from the camp remote 
 To cut some timber in a quiet glade. 
 
 Therein with jaded arm and fevered throat 
 He sat adown where erst a streamlet played, 
 
 And through his languid brain he let the dim thoughts float, 
 While round about, as fearless as the breeze, 
 The gentle robins fluttered 'midst the trees. 
 
 A few years back his ling'ring memory went 
 
 To where, amid the combs of Somerset, 
 A pretty homestead gave a sweet content 
 
 To one dear child, himself, and loved Annette. 
 How well the cornfield's ripening colours blent 
 
 With Heaven's bright hues when low the sun was set ! 
 The church bells rang with clear and mellow chime 
 The manifold occurrences of Time ! 
 
 Zealandia's shores displayed the hues of hope 
 False and delusive was the flattering show ; 
 
 Long were their struggles, but they could not cope 
 With that malignant fate which laid them low. 
 
 In misery's gulf a deeper deep would ope 
 Still to their eyes more painful scenes of woe, 
 
 Yet their devout affection ne'er grew dumb, 
 
 Love's star gleams brightest when the night is come. 
 
 While thus he mused the luckless man discerned 
 
 A warmer presence fill the sultry air, 
 But heeded little, till by chance he turned 
 
 His languid eyes and saw a reddish glare 
 
 19
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Far off, but quick advancing as it burned 
 
 The leaves and brittle branches that were there ; 
 Then up he leaped and rapidly glanced round, 
 As doth the lion hearing a strange sound. 
 
 The fire sped on ; a semicircle vast, 
 
 A giant scythe that mowed the forest down, 
 
 Whose blade prolonged itself at every cast 
 And made a wider range of death its own. 
 
 Now here, now there, the fated man caught fast 
 Within the snare sought to escape his doom. 
 
 In vain the attempt ; the flames like living foes 
 
 Divined his steps, and barred each path he chose. 
 
 His comrades, deeming that he might have gained 
 A sheltering bank, or some secluded cave, 
 
 Made search until no longer hope remained 
 
 That e'en his bones could find a Christian grave ; 
 
 But when decades of active years have waned 
 And many cities look upon the wave 
 
 Some idle loiterer, lighting on the spot, 
 
 May find a few charred bones the name forgot. 
 
 THE WORLD RECALLS 
 
 Lo ! man is apt for many things, 
 Strong work and dim imaginings, 
 A wallower in the world's vile sty, 
 A searcher of the distant sky. 
 Coarse is the warp but fine the woof, 
 Fretted with gold the rugged roof, 
 He hears a voice that bids him soar 
 And realms celestial explore ; 
 But scarce the journey has begun, 
 Ere any treasures have been won, 
 20
 
 THE MODERN ARTHUR 
 
 Than daily want or sordid need, 
 The piping of some foolish screed, 
 Makes his proud aspirations vain, 
 Turns him to common thoughts again. 
 The world, his mother, makes her moan, 
 Claims him for herself alone, 
 Far from her fold he cannot stray, 
 Nor her dull mandates disobey. 
 Throughout the stages of his life 
 His soul and body are at strife, 
 One struggling to unfold its wings 
 And rise into divinest things, 
 The other creeping day by day 
 Slowly amongst the miry clay ; 
 Together bound by mystic chains, 
 Over the soul the body reigns, 
 Yet sometimes flames a sudden fire, 
 The soul expands with noble ire, 
 The cowering flesh is cast aside 
 Like flotsam by a roaring tide. 
 
 Thus Arthur found that 'twas in vain 
 He strove to break old Custom's chain 
 And make new rules that do not chime 
 With current fashion of the time. 
 For, baffled oft by hostile chance, 
 Man is the child of circumstance ; 
 His soul, in every varied stage, 
 Is but a mirror of the age. 
 Yet noble aims, though vainly spent, 
 Become a very sacrament 
 To make men to high things aspire 
 And fill the world with chaster fire. 
 21
 
 A REVERIE 
 
 FOR us this Earth may be, 
 
 The sky, and sea, 
 But dullard things, unblest, 
 
 Or they may seem 
 
 A wondrous dream, 
 A vision of the deep made manifest. 
 
 Our lives are passing strange, 
 
 For thought may range 
 Adown the rugged slope of mundane things ; 
 
 Or it may climb 
 
 The steeps sublime 
 That lead to regions where the seraph sings. 
 
 All that we here behold, 
 
 Both new and old, 
 Imagination's banners trooping by 
 
 Are but the shapes 
 
 Our fancy drapes 
 And wears the colours of the mind's own dye. 
 
 By inward strivings stirred, 
 
 By longings spurred, 
 We seek to find what lies behind the veil 
 
 That hides the fate 
 
 Of poor and great 
 When from their eyes the light of Earth doth fail. 
 
 22
 
 A REVERIE 
 
 Our life is twain, 
 
 A ravelled skein, 
 A fire celestial burning in the clod, 
 
 Desire that bites, 
 
 Gross appetites, 
 And aspirations to be nearer God. 
 
 Yet human love is sweet, 
 
 We hear the beat 
 Of angels' wings a moment nigh the earth, 
 
 And float along 
 
 Rich waves of song 
 That in the groves of Paradise have birth. 
 
 Sometimes we hope and pray 
 
 For a pure day 
 When starved and worn the brute in us shall die, 
 
 And from the soul 
 
 The dark clouds roll 
 And Heaven lie open to the ravished eye. 
 
 Then by fierce passion torn, 
 
 Helpless, forlorn, 
 We plunge into the murky slough and mire ; 
 
 There wallowing deep 
 
 Our senses steep 
 Themselves in pleasures that are gross and dire. 
 
 Perchance a tender tune 
 
 With its soft rune 
 Ripples a kindly music through the breast ; 
 
 The world grows glad 
 
 As if it had 
 
 A moment heard the anthems of the blessed. 
 23
 
 A REVERIE 
 
 And there are homely joys 
 
 Of little noise 
 That soothe our lot with tranquillising rays : 
 
 The child and wife, 
 
 Freedom from strife, 
 And friendship's beams illumining our days. 
 
 The bird, the bee, the flower, 
 
 The noonday hour, 
 The cascade glittering through the sun-kissed trees, 
 
 The mossy dell, 
 
 Where streamlets dwell, 
 The fragrant breathings of the summer breeze, 
 
 The creatures we espy 
 
 That greet the eye, 
 When we roam over plain, or hill, or dale, 
 
 All are but flecks, 
 
 Unheeded specks, 
 That float from out Creation's inmost pale. 
 
 There throbs the heart of all 
 
 We Nature call, 
 And lurks the secret of the stars and sun, 
 
 Whose orbs adorn 
 
 One, night one, morn, 
 And through the ether on swift courses run. 
 
 And with each passing year 
 
 Are heard more clear 
 The voices of a folk that dwell afar, 
 
 Whose home is where 
 
 A finer air 
 
 Pervades the regions where the angels are. 
 24
 
 THE WORLD AND ITS WAYS 
 
 WHEN the light that wells from a distant bourne 
 
 Illumines the mind's dark haze, 
 Upsprings, full and clear, in the magic dawn, 
 
 The world and its wondrous ways. 
 
 For the old Earth swings through the starry space 
 
 Where the mystic comets gleam, 
 And the flame-robed suns, in a royal race, 
 
 Roll past like a gorgeous dream. 
 
 We are offspring all of a time long gone 
 
 When the formless cosmic haze 
 Breathed deep the breath of life, and then was born 
 
 The world and its wondrous ways. 
 
 For the brute is wed to a soul divine, 
 
 The dross to the bright ore clings, 
 Through the mud-born mists and the vapours shine 
 
 Lofty imaginings. 
 
 And man toils hardly in the paths of wrong 
 
 To gather a little gold, 
 The soul grows dim while the brute grows strong, 
 
 And soon life's storv is told. 
 
 he soul grows dim while the 
 And soon life's story is told. 
 25
 
 THE WORLD AND ITS WAYS 
 
 Yet still from his zeal and his ready art 
 
 Have risen the noble fane, 
 The palaces proud, and the splendid mart, 
 
 The might of the roaring train. 
 
 And the lightning chained by his master hand 
 
 Where its ruler wills doth roam, 
 His messages it bears from land to land, 
 
 And beneath the ocean foam. 
 
 And the painter limns with a magic brush, 
 
 And the sculptor carves a stone 
 Till his soul's bright moods through the marble flush 
 
 And render the image its own. 
 
 The blue ocean stretches from sky to sky 
 While the steamship cleaves the wave, 
 
 And strewn through its depths unburied there lie 
 The bones of the honoured brave. 
 
 And the mountains flecked with a little snow 
 
 Loom clear in the morning sun, 
 But their shapes grow dim when its orb sinks low 
 
 And the ardent day is done. 
 
 And the forests old, where the Dryads dwell, 
 
 And the Fays make their abode, 
 Clothe the rugged hills and the silent dell 
 
 With a green and living robe. 
 
 And the gaunt land throbs and the toiling sea 
 
 Through the slowly passing years 
 With the full deep pulse and ecstasy 
 
 That quicken the distant spheres. 
 26
 
 THE WORLD AND ITS WAYS 
 
 And each mortal soul, by a golden chain, 
 
 By its kindred to the sky, 
 Is linked with the stars in the azure main 
 
 And knows not its destiny. 
 
 A little while we live, and often dream 
 
 What we shall find upon the farther shore, 
 
 But one day shall we see its welcome gleam, 
 Then we shall dream no more.
 
 GOBLIN LAND 
 
 A REGION craggy, worn, and wild, 
 Where the rugged rocks up-piled 
 Bear huge gnarled and knotted trees 
 Stiffly bending to the breeze 
 When it roams along the glen 
 Never pressed by feet of men. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 
 Sombre clouds their shadows whisk 
 O'er the sun's great copper disc, 
 Gaunt birds through the boscage flit, 
 And their hoarse cries intermit 
 With the torrent's changeful roar, 
 Chaunting tunes not heard before. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 
 Here the goblins, troop by troop, 
 Shake the rocks with their wild whoop, 
 And with dances weird and strange 
 Through the savage region range, 
 Dances rhythmic, flowing free, 
 Full of fire and fantasy. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 28
 
 GOBLIN LAND 
 
 Knotted limbs with passion starting, 
 To each body grim imparting 
 Motion like the stormy sea 
 When the wind howls angrily, 
 Thus they beat a frantic measure, 
 Thus their hearts are knit together. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 
 Sometimes from his cavern home 
 Comes to earth the sweating gnome, 
 Rolls his fiery eyes around, 
 Marks the goblins as they bound, 
 Waves of passion 'gin to roll 
 Through his dense and sluggish soul. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 
 Music weird of wondrous tone, 
 Wafted from Euterpe's throne, 
 Flushes all the air around 
 With rich streams of languid sound, 
 Stirs the blood within the veins, 
 Wakes new pleasures and new pains. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 
 When the lustrous moon shines clear, 
 Gleaming from her lofty sphere, 
 Clothes the land in mystic light, 
 With a wan and pale delight, 
 Then the fairies come and go, 
 Lightly tripping to and fro. 
 Goblin land ! goblin land ! 
 29
 
 GOBLIN LAND 
 
 Land where elves and spirits throng, 
 Part to Earth it doth belong, 
 Part to realms which man discerns 
 When the soul within him burns, 
 By its fitful flame revealed, 
 Half disclosed, and half concealed, 
 Goblin land ! goblin land !
 
 A VISION 
 
 SLOW heaved the ocean through the night, 
 
 Which late the tempest bore, 
 And hour by hour the hollow surge 
 
 Fell on the sounding shore. 
 
 The sky's black dome extended high, 
 
 With lustrous stars bestrewn, 
 And silently amidst them hung 
 
 A wan and mystic moon. 
 
 And while, in deepest musings wrapped, 
 
 I roamed upon the strand, 
 A strange and wondrous mist rose from 
 
 The sea on every hand. 
 
 In undulations weird it rolled 
 
 Betwixt the sea and sky, 
 It hid from sight the ocean vast, 
 
 The star-lit canopy. 
 
 Then from its mighty folds were born 
 
 The shapes of ancient things, 
 The story long of England's life, 
 
 Battles, and priests, and kings.
 
 A VISION 
 
 The Briton wild, by Druid taught, 
 
 The Roman and the Dane, 
 The Saxon with his blue-eyed mate, 
 
 And then the Norman came. 
 
 Gazed fervent through the misty veil, 
 Which scarce the phantoms bore, 
 
 The awe-compelling eyes of gods 
 The heathen gods of yore. 
 
 Woden, and Thor, and mighty Jove, 
 
 Full many a god beside, 
 Now dead, forgotten, lost to men, 
 
 With their own creeds they died. 
 
 And phantom fleets, and phantom hosts, 
 
 Renewed their former strife, 
 They made the torpid mist grow quick 
 
 With fierce and lurid life. 
 
 On sea and land, where'er the sun 
 
 Doth flash his golden spears, 
 Brave Englishmen have fought and died 
 
 A long two thousand years. 
 
 Their bones lie scattered o'er the earth, 
 
 And in the deep, dark sea, 
 Their requiem is the wind that blows, 
 
 The ocean's monody. 
 
 And visions came of chiefs who ruled 
 
 The nation in their time, 
 Whose souls were crucibles, where thoughts 
 
 Were fused to deeds sublime. 
 32
 
 A VISION 
 
 Keen visages of statesmen wise ; 
 
 The poets' band elect ; 
 And those who search out Nature's ways 
 
 With sharpest intellect. 
 
 And many another face and form, 
 
 The shadows of the great, 
 Who played their part in noble guise, 
 
 And moulded England's fate. 
 
 They shimmered past, a wondrous host, 
 Gone like the leaves of spring, 
 
 Yet as the tree doth, year by year, 
 Renew its bourgeoning, 
 
 So leaders new for ever rise 
 To guide the people's course, 
 
 Unceasingly fresh life doth stir 
 The nation with its force. 
 
 33
 
 THE MESSENGER 
 
 Lo ! one from the tomb returning, 
 From the silence of the grave, 
 
 Saw again the Earth's green meadows, 
 And broad ocean's azure wave. 
 
 Felt the lustful joy of living, 
 Felt the coursing of the blood, 
 
 Stirring every vein and fibre 
 With the tingling of its flood. 
 
 Strange the longing and emotion 
 That perturbed the spirit when, 
 
 Sojourner in other regions, 
 
 He looked on the haunts of men. 
 
 And the thunder of his footsteps 
 Pealing sounded near and far, 
 
 Making every ear attentive 
 Like the rolling drum of war. 
 
 For his presence, clothed with wisdom, 
 
 Manifested novel power, 
 Gathered whither none had ever 
 
 Come to Earth before that hour. 
 34
 
 THE MESSENGER 
 
 And the rumour of his coming 
 Roused the nations one and all, 
 
 Shook the heart of king and peasant 
 With the wonder of its call. 
 
 As when ocean, calmly sleeping, 
 
 Wakened by a sudden gale, 
 Heaves and tosses into billows, 
 
 While the winds incessant wail, 
 
 So the secret fears that mingle 
 With the hope that we may live 
 
 In the days of a hereafter 
 When to death our frames we give, 
 
 Were dispersed, and a tempest, 
 
 Hurricane of strong desire, 
 Swept across the people's heartstrings, 
 
 Swiftly as a prairie fire. 
 
 Every man and woman breathing, 
 Whether rich or of mean sort, 
 
 Eager waited for the message 
 
 From the realms of darkness brought ; 
 
 Monarch seated in sage council 
 With the wisest of the State, 
 
 Fashion flitting with light footstep 
 Through the chambers of the great, 
 
 Merchant in his hall of commerce, 
 
 Striving for redoubled gains, 
 And the manufacturer, toiling, 
 
 Like the bee, with endless pains, 
 35
 
 THE MESSENGER 
 
 All surceased their work or pleasure, 
 None his daily labour sought, 
 
 For the world had but one feeling, 
 Every mind a single thought. 
 
 Armies plunged in throes of battle, 
 Swaying in its deadly tide, 
 
 Paused amid the strife and thunder, 
 Held in truce their martial pride. 
 
 Wondrous was the speech he uttered, 
 And the mighty words he said 
 
 Rent the veil that parts the living 
 From the regions of the dead.
 
 THE CITY OF DREAMS 
 
 THERE is a city, built of men's bright dreams, 
 
 Which they through many an aeon have upreared, 
 Seen through the mists by fits and starts it gleams 
 
 With phantom domes, and spires, and structures 
 
 weird. 
 Here proud imaginations oft take form 
 
 And fancies touched with passing wings of fire, 
 Embodiments of th' ecstatic storm 
 
 That broke full oft from Orpheus' magic lyre. 
 
 Pacing its pleasant avenues are seen 
 
 A folk unworn by arduous toil or care, 
 Life's orb is clothed with a perpetual sheen, 
 
 The pulse throbs faster with th' inspiring air, 
 The faculties expand, and, like a flower 
 
 That loves the sun but veils itself at night, 
 This folk is fostered by a quickening power, 
 
 Joyous it lives, and revels in the light. 
 
 Lo ! here ascends the spire of many a fane, 
 
 Great dome, and minaret, and pinnacle, 
 Temples whereby the pious may attain 
 
 Communion with the dread invisible. 
 Holy the thoughts that nigh the altar rise, 
 
 Holy the thoughts that well from sacred songs; 
 Before the presence of the godhead flies 
 
 The lustful wish that breeds an obscene throng. 
 37
 
 THE CITY OF DREAMS 
 
 Perchance there comes, slow stealing through the mist, 
 
 Low bells of music, melancholy, sweet, 
 As if chaste sorrow and delight had kissed ; 
 
 The Past approaches with its noiseless feet, 
 Laden with memories from their graves arise 
 
 The ghosts of old, forgotten days of yore, 
 Embers of vanished hopes burn in their eyes, 
 
 Ambitions crushed, lives lost for evermore. 
 
 The phantoms great of glory and of war 
 
 People the city with their faces proud, 
 Splendid they gleam, as some illustrious star 
 
 Supremely shines amidst the stellar crowd ; 
 Bright hopes, and fierce ambitions, brave designs, 
 
 Each bears aloft its own victorious crest, 
 The banners flutter, flame the blazing signs, 
 
 Borne in the glad procession of the blest. 
 
 Awhile the city looms through golden mist 
 
 Where naught is clearly seen, but much obscure ; 
 Shapes clad in robes of rose and amethyst, 
 
 Dim shadows undefined, that yet allure, 
 Move here and there, and many a glorious tone 
 
 With voice harmonious tells the listening ear 
 That Love is seated on her wondrous throne 
 
 Attended by her doves and Graces dear. 
 
 Confused the dreams of love, but all are blest, 
 With tender hopes and passion's colours shot, 
 
 A smiling sea by Zephyr's hand caressed, 
 Whose bosom heaves at its delightful lot ; 
 38
 
 THE CITY OF DREAMS 
 
 Dear images arise, then fade away, 
 
 But leave the memory of a fragrant air, 
 
 These glowing visions fill the happy day 
 With pleasures manifold and fancies rare. 
 
 The nations proud that ruled the ancient world, 
 
 Th' Egyptian musing on death's shoreless sea, 
 The Assyrian fierce when war's red flag unfurled, 
 
 Dread foe to meet, yet living sumptuously, 
 Here look on fabrics, idols of their dreams, 
 
 Fagades of palaces that daze the sense, 
 From which a glowing tide of splendour streams, 
 
 Temples that breathe a god's magnificence. 
 
 About the city rolls a river wide 
 
 Whose foaming waters none have dared to cross, 
 A terror vague hangs o'er the mighty tide 
 
 A ghostly river flushed with living force 
 Its waters severance of two realms denote, 
 
 For here our feet do rest upon the shore 
 Of stable land, but there strange visions float 
 
 In regions that loom dim for evermore. 
 
 39
 
 SHIPS 
 
 O SHIPS that ride with a freight of souls 
 
 On the ocean's barren plain 
 Swiftly ye pass, like the transient thoughts 
 
 That flit through the teeming brain ! 
 The waves are cleft by your strenuous keels 
 
 But no trace is left behind, 
 Forgotten soon like the eagle's flight 
 
 Or sough of the angry wind. 
 
 Your shapes loom dim in the orient morn 
 
 Like the forms of phantoms weird 
 Coming from out of the sea's dark caves 
 
 Where manifold sprites are reared. 
 Then, quickened to life and energy 
 
 By the sight of the flaming sun, 
 The keels grow large, the sails denned, 
 
 Red sparks from the funnels run. 
 
 From the East and the West float the ships, 
 
 They come from the star-girt South, 
 From the gloom and the mists of the North, 
 
 From harbour and river mouth. 
 The whaler ploughs through the icy field 
 
 In quest of his monstrous prey, 
 Where the glaciers breed the glittering berg 
 
 And the sun is cold alway, 
 40
 
 SHIPS 
 
 The Dyak sails where the spice-clad isles 
 
 The breezes with scents endow ; 
 He braves the sea in a torrid clime 
 
 In his quaintly fashioned prau, 
 With its masts and yards of an Eastern mode 
 
 Ere the Western world held sway, 
 A lingering dream of a far-off past, 
 
 The ghost of an ancient day. 
 
 Thus ships have sailed during ages hoar 
 
 While the empires rose and fell ; 
 The breeze that shook the Roman trireme 
 
 Rocked the Briton's coracle. 
 The ships are launched from a thousand ways 
 
 By the shipwright's art designed, 
 And they rush to meet the ocean wave 
 
 Like thoughts from a teeming mind. 
 
 ii 
 
 Lo ! when the sailor leaves the land 
 
 And to the ship confides his fate 
 He knows not when he shall again 
 
 Return to port, or soon or late. 
 Perchance the parting kiss he gave 
 
 To wife and child may be the last 
 He e'er shall give. A sailor's life 
 
 Is at the call of every blast ; 
 The wonders of the deep are his, 
 
 The tempest and the glassy plain, 
 The dying sun, in splendour robed, 
 
 The moonbeams rippling o'er the main.
 
 SHIPS 
 
 But on the glory rests a shade 
 Proceeding from a subtle breath, 
 
 For aye beneath his feet there lies 
 The danger of a watery death. 
 
 ill 
 
 Ceaseless the struggle, 
 Bitter, unyielding, 
 'Twixt man and ocean, 
 Who shall be master. 
 Daily the vessels, 
 Great ship and tartane, 
 Galley and schooner, 
 Battered by tempest, 
 Caught by mis'venture, 
 Swift through the liquid 
 Hungry dark waters, 
 Satiate never, 
 Sink to the abysses 
 Where the huge monsters, 
 Misshapen, ugly, 
 Wander 'midst gloomy 
 Regions of horror 
 
 Far from the light of the sun and the world. 
 Yet men with labour, 
 Evermore toiling, 
 Still launch their warships 
 Clothed with dread thunder, 
 Steamers gigantic 
 Like to proud palaces 
 Haughtily floating 
 Upon a blue sea, 
 42
 
 SHIPS 
 
 Kayak and whaler, 
 Barque and felucca, 
 Junk slowly sailing 
 Nigh realms of Cathay, 
 Where the seas grow dark 
 And the sky is hid 
 When the typhoon comes 
 With heart full of rage 
 And noise of great drums. 
 Everywhere round the 
 Rim of the ocean 
 Rings a shrill clamour, 
 Stirring commotion, 
 Made by the shipwrights, 
 Capable craftsmen, 
 Fashioning vessels 
 On many a plan. 
 
 IV 
 
 Plunging their strong prows 
 Through waves reluctant 
 Come the grey battleships ; 
 Fiercely their cannon 
 Peer from the barbettes. 
 Stately and sternly, 
 Like mighty war-gods, 
 March they in column, 
 Dreadnought and cruiser, 
 Destroyer and scout, 
 Where the proud admiral, 
 Gallant old sea-dog, 
 Warworn and skilful, 
 43
 
 SHIPS 
 
 Guides them, obeying 
 Flags flown as signals 
 From his great warship. 
 Soon shall their voices 
 Roar in deep thunder 
 And the dread levin 
 Break on the foe. 
 
 When the trireme spread to the sun, 
 To the Mediterranean sun, 
 
 Her silken sails, 
 
 With her gilded prow she clove the sea 
 Like a gay bird wafted graciously 
 
 By favouring gales. 
 
 The praetor she bore with his train 
 From Africa over the main 
 
 To Italy; 
 
 With garments of price his form was dressed 
 As he lay upon his wanton's breast 
 
 Voluptuously. 
 
 The zither was played and the lyre, 
 From their chords sprang a musical fire, 
 
 A glorious stave ; 
 
 The sea was calm and the oars bit deep, 
 The slaves made the galley swiftly leap 
 
 From wave to wave. 
 
 44
 
 SHIPS 
 
 In the depths beyond light of day, 
 Great Neptune held sovereign sway, 
 
 And the land 
 
 Was oft graced by some deity's tread 
 By the gleaming of Cupid's torch led 
 
 To fair hand. 
 
 The slave laboured hard at the oar, 
 Sad captive of merciless war, 
 
 Torn from his home 
 
 Where over the sand the Sphinx' wise face 
 Unceasingly watched the nomad race 
 
 For ages roam, 
 
 Or haply the dreams of his youth 
 
 Were dreamed on the banks of the Pruth, 
 
 Nigh forests wild, 
 
 And the maiden he loved when he grew 
 To a man was the maiden he knew 
 
 When a child. 
 
 The galley sped on with its freight, 
 The praetor reclining in state, 
 
 The slaves were below ; 
 Pleasure was rife in the sunny noon, 
 It drank the beams of the risen moon, 
 
 Heedless of woe. 
 
 O vessels of Greece and of Rome 
 
 That sailed through the surge and the foam 
 
 In ages gone ! 
 
 The ^Egean and Euxine still roar, 
 Their waves upon many a shore 
 
 Fall forlorn, 
 45
 
 SHIPS 
 
 But ye, like the transient clouds that fly 
 A moment o'er the azure sky, 
 
 Then pass for aye, 
 
 Have gone to realms of things unseen 
 Where wander the shades that have been 
 
 Once on a day. 
 
 VI 
 
 Lo ! the bells of the vessels chime 
 
 Throughout the long hours, 
 Chanting the progress of time, 
 
 Hours and half-hours. 
 
 Their clangour drifts over the sea 
 
 By night and by day, 
 Shrill-toned are their voices and free, 
 
 Heard far away. 
 
 When gleams the bright orb of the moon, 
 
 A shield in the sky, 
 Shedding a radiance like noon 
 
 But mellowly. 
 
 Softly lap the waves by the side 
 
 Of the sluggard ship, 
 Star-spangled the waters glide 
 
 Past with their rip. 
 
 Then the heart of the sailor, stirred 
 
 By thoughts of the days 
 When in his young childhood he heard 
 
 The church bells raise 
 46
 
 SHIPS 
 
 Their silver-tongued voices aloud 
 
 Like a holy peal 
 That mysteries of sacred ground 
 
 Dimly reveal, 
 
 Grows soft, and forgets for a space 
 
 How hard is his lot, 
 And a beam of ineffable grace 
 
 Through his life is shot. 
 
 But when his long watch is fulfilled 
 
 He goes to his rest, 
 With toil his emotions are chilled, 
 
 Rugged his nest. 
 
 VII 
 
 The man who first obeyed the call, 
 
 The calling of the mighty sea, 
 Who dared what fate might him befall 
 
 While probing its deep mystery, 
 Was such an one the gods would deem 
 
 Full worthy to become their peer, 
 No fibre of his soul was weak 
 
 Or felt the trembling pulse of fear. 
 
 When on the ocean surge his bark 
 
 With sails of antique shape outspread 
 Pursued an untried course and dark 
 
 And drove the waves before its head, 
 He knew not what might be his fate, 
 
 What novel peril might be met, 
 Some danger, undefined and great, 
 
 That man had not encountered yet. 
 
 47
 
 What mysteries did the ocean hold ? 
 
 New lands, new peoples, gaunt and grim, 
 Two-headed giants, height untold, 
 
 Or beings winged like seraphim. 
 Trees clothed with verdure strange and rare, 
 
 Forests with novel creatures rife, 
 Fountains that bubbled to the air, 
 
 Whose waters gave perpetual life. 
 
 Or did the ocean ever ope 
 
 To mariners horizons new, 
 While overhead the sky's blue cope 
 
 Aye limited the sailor's view ? 
 Was the sea but a watery plain 
 
 Boundless save on the hither side, 
 And men could never hope to gain 
 
 The margin of the ocean tide ? 
 
 VIII 
 
 Where sail the phantom fleets upon the main, 
 The ghosts of ships that floated on the main 
 
 In ages gone ? 
 
 The ships and crews that o'er the pathless deep 
 Sailed full of pride where gleaming dolphins leap 
 
 In seas forlorn ? 
 
 What secret sounds and silent havens hold 
 
 The squadrons from whose ports the thunders rolled 
 
 In dreadful war ? 
 
 Or galleons that a wondrous silver freight 
 Once carried from the old Peruvian State 
 
 To Spanish shore ? 
 48
 
 SHIPS 
 
 A countless folk upon the ocean dwell 
 Who walk unseen upon the azure swell 
 
 With soundless feet. 
 
 Their spirits mingle with the storm-fed mist, 
 And when the ocean by the sun is kissed 
 
 Its love they greet. 
 
 The world grows old ; her frame is worn, 
 
 The beauty of her youthful face 
 Is lost ; the hills and forests mourn 
 
 The glory of her early grace ; 
 Yet still her form is clothed with light, 
 
 Advent'rous men new wonders reap, 
 Marvels once hid have come to light, 
 
 'Natheless some secrets it doth keep. 
 
 49
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 O WONDERFUL Ocean, that girdles the land 
 With waves that are splendid and free, 
 
 Thy voices are chanting to many a strand 
 The deep hymn of Infinity ! 
 
 Within thy proud bosom dwell harmonies strong, 
 
 The wisdom and secrets of Time, 
 The passion that seethes till it breaks into song, 
 
 The march of a soul-stirring rhyme. 
 
 Thy moods and thy temper most varied, O Sea ! 
 
 Each day has its fashion and change ; 
 From the calm that befalls where the tropic suns be 
 
 To the death-bearing tempest they range. 
 
 The depths of thy waters are filled with strange life, 
 
 Most fruitful and rich is thy store 
 Of creatures that revel where treasures are rife 
 
 On thy rugged and rocky floor. 
 
 The albatross floats, with its broad, ashen wing, 
 
 And its bosom of snowy white, 
 In the air, and looks down like an eldritch thing 
 
 On thy glimmering waters bright. 
 50
 
 Deep solitude broods o'er thy uttermost fields, 
 Where the keel of no ship doth plough, 
 
 And the sea-serpents rove with their glist'ring shields 
 While the breezes softly sough. 
 
 The storm mist that over thy tempest-racked breast 
 
 In dim, fleecy volumes oft rolls, 
 Bears phantoms aroused from their unquiet rest, 
 
 The phantoms of mariners' souls. 
 
 In life they were bound with the gyves that bind well, 
 
 The gyves that are welded by thee ; 
 In death they remember thy charms and thy spell, 
 
 So great is thy power, O Sea ! 
 
 Thy beauties are many, and all are thy own, 
 
 Eternal thy freshness and youth ; 
 Unchanged since the day when the sunbeams first shone 
 
 On the Earth in their splendour and ruth. 
 
 Thy surges are flushed with the light that descends, 
 
 Raining down from a golden sky, 
 And the flame of its fire with thy azure blends 
 
 In a colour-wove symphony. 
 
 And thy great heart throbs when the silent moon 
 
 From its silvery throne doth smile, 
 And there rolls the sheen of the glorious boon 
 
 O'er many a watery mile. 
 
 When the tempest comes with the sound of the drums 
 
 That herald the armies whose feet 
 Tread the cloud-capped realms where the monsoon hums 
 
 Ere it scatters the flying fleet,
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 Thy billows are torn with the swords that are born 
 
 When the winds gather angrily ; 
 Their bodies are clothed with the robe of thy scorn, 
 
 Thy flash and thy foam, O Sea ! 
 
 Could thy language be changed to the modes of speech 
 
 That are known to our human ears, 
 What tales couldst thou tell of the ages that reach 
 
 Down the immemorial years ! 
 
 What deeds of devotion and courage that drew 
 New strength from the portals of death, 
 
 And Love that was bold when the hour darkest grew, 
 And yielded its ultimate breath ! 
 
 To thy rhythm and rhyme the Earth keepeth time, 
 
 Thy soul is the soul of the moon ; 
 Thou greetest the morn with thy resonant chime, 
 
 The swell of a magnific tune. 
 
 O Sea, that was old ere mankind was begot, 
 
 Or the land had borne ever a tree, 
 Thy waters shall roll when the sun is not, 
 
 Great type of Infinity !
 
 THE SEAGULL 
 
 CHILD of the tempest ! rocked in the deep, 
 
 Thy birthplace the rude crag o'erlooking the foam, 
 
 The wild winds that over the broad ocean sweep 
 Hummed a lullaby weird round thy storm-beaten 
 home. 
 
 Though ashen thy pinions, yet white is thy breast, 
 Thy plumage unruffled amid the dread blast, 
 
 Thou sittest serene on the high surge's crest, 
 
 And borne by the billows art here and there cast. 
 
 Thy voice hoarse and mournful sounds like the sad wail 
 Of spirits forgotten by quick and by dead, 
 
 Who aimlessly wander within a sad pale 
 
 And dream of their joys in the life that has fled. 
 
 When far from the land, with strong beating pinion, 
 Thou sailest and musest athwart the blue main, 
 
 Thy eye view'st afar the Sun's rich dominion 
 
 Where robed in the splendours of light he doth reign. 
 
 And lo ! in the waste of untravelled water 
 
 Thou see'st the fierce kraken emerge from his lair, 
 
 His pitiless arms stretched out for the slaughter, 
 His cold gleaming eyeballs with cruelty glare. 
 53
 
 THE SEAGULL 
 
 And sometimes appears the king of the ocean 
 His huge body cleaving the blue waves asunder, 
 
 The noise of his flukes, the roar of his motion, 
 Resound like the peal of the echoing thunder. 
 
 And when the moon hangs its pale lamp in the sky 
 Thou sleepest deep sleep on thy watery bed, 
 
 The desolate spirits glide wearily by, 
 About thee a glittering radiance is shed. 
 
 Thy voice is not tuned to the lay which is heard 
 On the forest's green marge or in the cool grove, 
 
 The sweet notes which spring from the soul of the bird 
 Land begotten, land nurtured, impassioned by love. 
 
 Thy life is the life of the measureless sea, 
 
 Thy voice is the voice of the sad homeless wind 
 
 That courses unseen over mountain and lea, 
 
 And halts not, nor slumbers, nor rest can e'er find. 
 
 O heir of long ages ! whose ancestors flew 
 
 O'er surf-girdled seas which lost continents laved, 
 
 Where strange-fashioned verdure in strange meadows 
 
 grew, 
 And o'er creatures uncouth the giant palm waved. 
 
 Borne hither and thither on intrepid wings, 
 The dark, barren ocean lies aye 'neath thy ken, 
 
 Thou hearest the Siren's clear song when she sings, 
 And dwellest apart from the kingdom of men. 
 
 54
 
 THE WARSHIP 
 
 STRONG springs the noble warship through the sea, 
 
 About her prow the surges break and comb, 
 The great waves beat her sides exultingly, 
 Behind her spreads a sheet of silver foam ; 
 She moves along, a citadel of might, 
 Her country's glory and her crew's delight. 
 
 Upon her decks, disposed in dread array, 
 
 The silent cannon in the sunlight gleam, 
 The crew, alert, their captain's call obey, 
 
 And with blithe zeal and warlike ardour teem ; 
 The fell torpedo, hidden, lurks below, 
 The sure and swift-winged messenger of woe. 
 
 The ship's majestic heart doth throb and beat 
 
 With deep pulsations, keeping rhythmic time, 
 A force resistless as Death's coming feat 
 Impels the mighty fabric through the brine. 
 A potent genie, in its prison bound, 
 Through night and day doth toil in constant round. 
 
 A thousand men, by labours well controlled, 
 
 A skilful work and wondrous did create, 
 Their souls commingling in a common mould 
 Imbued with life a thing inanimate, 
 They raised a fabric like a splendid dream, 
 Where steel and brass-bound cylinders did gleam. 
 
 55
 
 THE WARSHIP 
 
 The rugged iron within the furnace cast 
 
 By flames of fiercest temper was enwrapped, 
 It wallowed there till many hours had passed, 
 And then the glowing reservoir was tapped ; 
 The molten metal sudden flashed to sight, 
 A brilliant, blinding, incandescent light. 
 
 The great machines, as if with life endowed, 
 
 Seized on the tempered steel with forceful hands, 
 And shaped the rod, the smooth plate bent and bowed, 
 Obedient to their master's mute commands. 
 Swift fell the hammer, gliding in its frame, 
 And from the lurid plate drove forth the flame. 
 
 Toil on, O artisans ! and spend your skill 
 
 In fullest measure on the work which grows 
 Beneath your hands ; for, lo ! your labours will 
 Control the warship's fate when fiercely blows 
 The tempest o'er the ocean's watery plain, 
 Or battle's thunder peals across the main. 
 
 At last the labour's o'er, the ship complete, 
 
 And proudly beat the workmen's hearts, and high, 
 As the wild surges their new mistress greet, 
 Clad in her martial panoply. 
 
 Far from the land, where swell the billows free, 
 The warship seeks her royal destiny. 
 
 From out the waters deep tumultuous rise 
 The spirits of the brave, immortal, dead, 
 With wonder gleaming from their starlit eyes, 
 The light of Aidenn round about them shed. 
 Awhile they view the prodigy of art, 
 Then, silent, to their unseen home depart. 
 56
 
 THE WARSHIP 
 
 Majestic symbol of embodied power, 
 
 Sublime thou rid'st the waves, from crest to crest, 
 Man fashioned thee in some inspired hour, 
 All forces shaping to his own behest. 
 O warship proud, be ruler of the sea, 
 And bear my country's flag to victory ! 
 
 57
 
 THE SEA REMEMBERS NOT 
 
 THE sea remembers not, 
 Nor heeds the footsteps of the morning light, 
 Nor yet the coming of the star-clad night, 
 Vainly the sun and moon pursue their ways, 
 The ocean's breast is careless of their rays. 
 
 The sea remembers not, 
 
 Swift through its waves the giant steamships plough, 
 
 Winged furrows ope before the eager bow, 
 
 The waters foam awhile, but in brief time 
 
 The waves are beating in their ancient rhyme. 
 
 The sea remembers not, 
 
 It keeps no memories of the lives it flung 
 
 To death's dark shades when by the storm-winds stung 
 
 It cast the shuddering vessel like a weed 
 
 Against the rocks that on poor mortals feed. 
 
 The sea remembers not 
 
 The royal courts that sovereign Neptune held 
 Beneath its surges in the days of eld, 
 Nor proud processions, when the god was borne 
 In pearl-clad chariot, and the sounding horn 
 Of Triton bade the watery world acclaim 
 The monarch who ruled o'er the boundless main. 
 
 58
 
 THE SEA REMEMBERS NOT 
 
 The sea remembers not 
 
 The untold years that passed ere man took life, 
 
 When ocean was with many a monster rife, 
 
 The world was in the making, and the sea 
 
 Was quivering with the creatures that would be. 
 
 The sea remembers not 
 
 That once it looked upon a silent land 
 
 Where meagre herb scarce hid the rugged strand, 
 
 No roar of beast or human voice was heard, 
 
 Nor trills proceeding from the joyful bird. 
 
 The sea remembers not, 
 It keeps no record of the sobs and sighs, 
 The tears that issue from the saddened eyes, 
 Heart bidding long good-bye to loving heart 
 When call of ocean bids them quickly part. 
 
 The sea remembers not, 
 Fame rears no column on its azure plain, 
 The mightiest deed no trophy here doth gain, 
 The battle's smoke obscures the ocean's face 
 A moment, then dispersing leaves no trace. 
 
 The sea remembers not, 
 Like Time it is, and was, and still will be. 
 Watched by the sun its surges changelessly 
 With crested helmets wander to and fro 
 Just as they did ten thousand years ago. 
 
 59
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP 
 
 THE sea mists gathered thick and fast, 
 They clung about the vessel's mast ; 
 The sails flapped idly overhead 
 And from the slackened ropes was shed 
 A frequent shower of briny dew 
 Upon the mariner, whose view 
 Scarce reached beyond the vessel's side, 
 So dense the cloud on ocean's tide. 
 
 Not distant lay the Cape of Storms 
 Whose rugged promontory forms 
 The boundary 'twixt two oceans vast, 
 Whose tempest-shaken ramparts passed 
 The sailor glides, o'er the sea's breast, 
 From West to East, or East to West, 
 Approaches now the rising sun 
 Or sees it sink when day is done. 
 
 Why cleaves the sullen mist in twain ? 
 Why tosses now the silent main ? 
 Whence comes that strange and ghostly light 
 That makes the sea gleam cold and white ? 
 Athwart the sunless avenue 
 An ancient ship glides into view ; 
 Her battered hull the sailor sees 
 Worn by the storms of'centuries. 
 60
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP 
 
 Her sails are old, her cordage worn 
 In rotten fragments hangs forlorn ; 
 Her boats are wrecks, her bows look fell 
 With kelp and rugged barnacle ; 
 She rides before a soundless gale, 
 And round about her fly and wail 
 The sea-fowl in whose guise are found 
 The spirits of poor seamen drowned. 
 
 " What ho, the ship ! " the captain cried, 
 " What phantom sea is this you ride ? 
 What men are you ? from what strange clime 
 Hails your strange bark, hoary with time ? " 
 Loud was his voice, but full of fear, 
 His brave heart felt a presence near 
 That, with supernal wonder fraught, 
 All human courage rendered naught. 
 
 Then, slowly rising fore and aft, 
 A crew stood on the battered craft ; 
 They wore the shapes of mortal men, 
 Yet something novel to the ken 
 Betokened that a hapless fate 
 Had severed them from human state ; 
 Between two worlds their lot was cast, 
 The Present mingling with the Past. 
 
 The vessel rolled 'mid billows high, 
 As its weird master made reply : 
 " O mortal seaman, you behold 
 One who in far-off days of old 
 By weeks of tempests sore oppressed, 
 The ship rebuffed from crest to crest, 
 61
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP 
 
 In weary struggles vainly strove 
 
 To round the Cape which looms above 
 
 " The Southern Ocean, where it breaks 
 
 Upon the Afric coast and shakes 
 
 Its snowy surfs upon the shore 
 
 And frights the land with muffled roar, 
 
 Until my frenzied anger burst 
 
 Into fell language, most accursed, 
 
 And in my utter madness I 
 
 Did Heaven and its own God defy 
 
 " To keep me from my chosen course 
 By tempest, or supernal force. 
 My wicked frenzy seized the men, 
 Who lustily cried out ' Amen ! ' 
 
 " And never since have we dropped down 
 
 Our anchor by a seaport town, 
 
 Nor seen the face of wife or child, 
 
 Nor felt the breath of zephyr mild ; 
 
 Reft from the lot of humankind, 
 
 And driven by a soundless wind, 
 
 We roam the ocean's solitude 
 
 And feel the tempest's fiercest mood. 
 
 " We know not when this doom shall cease, 
 Nor when our souls may taste sweet peace, 
 Nor whether we now live or die, 
 Nor what may be our destiny. " 
 
 The phantom spake no more : and lo ! 
 The dense mists hurried to and fro ; 
 62
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP 
 
 Till, rolling swiftly from the scene, 
 
 They left exposed the blue marine. 
 
 The sun shone in a cloudless sky, 
 
 The little waves danced merrily, 
 
 But every sailor said a prayer 
 
 For those whom that dread bark did bear.
 
 THE CHAMBERS OF THE SEA 
 
 WHEN slowly roaming on the shore 
 
 Where clangs the seabird's raucous cry, 
 
 I ponder much what treasures may 
 Illumine with their radiancy 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 For once I heard a voice that spake 
 Like one who utters things unknown, 
 
 Winged words that made me burn to view 
 And traverse by myself alone 
 The chambers of the sea : 
 
 " Ten thousand fathoms deep a host 
 Of living creatures move and flame, 
 
 Attendants they of palaces 
 
 Whose splendour puts the sun to shame, 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Here dwell in grandeur mighty kings 
 Whose realms all earthly bounds transcend, 
 
 Their retinues in sumptuous dight 
 A glory most exceeding lend 
 To chambers of the sea. 
 
 " And creatures strange of shape and mien, 
 
 Whose onset much a man would rue, 
 Watch ceaselessly with flaming eyes 
 The avenues that lead unto 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 64
 
 " Nor night nor day is there, but, lo ! 
 
 A lustre full of life and zeal 
 Moves tremulously to and fro, 
 
 Whose flashings like a veil conceal 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Chimeras weird that float with wings 
 And cloud the waters of the deep 
 
 Drift past, like things of eerie birth 
 That from some sombre region creep, 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 "Strange is the fashion of this world 
 Spread out beneath the ocean's din, 
 
 That rises at the tempest's call, 
 Sometimes an echo enters in 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Rich chords of music oft resound 
 Throughout the waters when they break 
 
 Softly and noiseless as a cloud 
 And with melodious tremors shake 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Half melancholy is the strain 
 
 As if some fervid mind and true 
 By Nature's mysteries oppressed 
 
 Had mused on them while roaming through 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " The ocean's harmonies are there, 
 
 The essence of its noble soul, 
 The music of the ages makes 
 
 A surge of sound tumultuous roll 
 Through chambers of the sea. 
 F 65
 
 THE CHAMBERS OF THE SEA 
 
 " Commingled with its waters dwell 
 
 The spirits of the bold and brave 
 Whose bodies overcome by fate 
 
 Sank helplessly beneath the wave 
 Into the angry sea. 
 
 " And gay flowers bloom that ne'er were kissed 
 
 By the uprising, ruddy sun, 
 Whose giant petals gleam with hues 
 
 Splendid as if they had been won 
 From chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Vast meadows clothed with herbage green, 
 Profusely growing, rich and rank 
 
 Where flaming serpents softly glide 
 
 Amongst the bright fronds sleek and lank 
 Carpet the deep, deep sea. 
 
 "O'er regions measureless and wild 
 Lonely is spread a scattered rout 
 
 Of galleons and all precious things, 
 The spoil of empires lies about 
 The chambers of the sea. 
 
 " Full many a work of art is there, 
 Achievements of some godlike brain ; 
 
 Forlorn their beauty shall expire 
 Nor be enjoyed by man again, 
 Lost in the mighty sea. 
 
 " The echo of the wondrous chords 
 
 That in the depths of ocean dwell 
 Ofttimes delights the listening ear 
 
 That seeks the winding, sculptured shell 
 Drawn from the ancient sea. 
 66
 
 THE CHAMBERS OF THE SEA 
 
 " A pleasant murmur dimly haunts 
 The mazes of the pearled recess 
 
 That seems, thus filled with sound forlorn, 
 Of vague, sonorous dreaminess, 
 A chamber of the sea." 
 
 Oh could we by the spirit rapt 
 
 Discard the body for a space 
 To roam the ocean's abysses, 
 
 And through its untrod regions trace 
 The chambers of the sea, 
 
 How thought would quicken thought till all 
 The visions of the soul were born ; 
 
 Issuing forth, tumultuously, 
 
 Like troops of mystic creatures drawn 
 From chambers of the sea ! 
 
 67
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE SEA 
 
 I HEAR strange voices calling from the deep, 
 Strange voices never heard by man before, 
 In silence of the night they faintly creep 
 Into my window with the breakers' roar : 
 
 " We are the people who dwell in the sea, 
 'Neath the swishing and the plash of its foam, 
 Whom no man hath seen, or ever shall see, 
 For during the day deep waters we roam. 
 
 " But when of the night the pinions are spread, 
 And the lustrous gems of its baldric shine, 
 By a strong desire to the surface led 
 We walk with delight on the trembling brine. 
 
 " Wild passions are born in the human breast 
 And flush it with joy, or rack it with woe, 
 But we in the peace of the noontide rest, 
 Nor rapture, nor sorrow, nor anguish know. 
 
 " We are the people who dwell in the sea, 
 'Neath the swishing and the plash of its foam, 
 Whom no man hath seen, or ever shall see, 
 For the ocean conceals our emerald home/' 
 68
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE SEA 
 
 Thus call the voices, and their music thrills 
 And rings through every fibre of my brain, 
 
 Awakening strange longings, while it fills 
 Me with a pleasure melting into pain. 
 
 69
 
 THE FATED SHIP 
 
 'TwAs a ship that sailed with a favouring wind 
 Through the loom of the Southern sea, 
 
 From its funnel a smoky pennant trailed 
 To the eastward, steadily. 
 
 The dolphins disported about its prow 
 
 In their jackets of green and gold, 
 While the blue waves passed with their silver crests 
 
 As they did in the days of old. 
 
 Like a bird on the wing that fearless flies 
 
 It steadfastly sailed on its way 
 From a noble port in the Austral land 
 
 To the haven of Plymouth Bay. 
 
 Yet each fish that swam nigh the vessel's course 
 Knew the hour of its doom was sealed, 
 
 The seagull hovered ; to its inward sight 
 The fate of the ship was revealed. 
 
 Heavy hearts grew light on the brave craft's deck 
 With the cheer of the sun and the foam, 
 
 And the pleasant dreams of the joys in store 
 When they should reach their English home. 
 70
 
 THE FATED SHIP 
 
 The hopes of the folk on the ship were linked 
 
 To the hopes of their kin on shore, 
 Thought leaps unto thought and affection's bond 
 
 Endureth for evermore. 
 
 As the vessel sprang with its freight of souls 
 Full of pride o'er the boundless deep, 
 
 The spirits that from the ocean arose 
 At its gliding shape did peep. 
 
 Sweet spirits and kind, dark spirits and dour, 
 
 In the lore of the future wise, 
 And they felt the presence of death remote 
 
 By their matchless sympathies. 
 
 The stars of the night from ebony thrones 
 
 Saw the great ship speeding on, 
 The Sisters Seven in their shining robes, 
 
 And the sentries of Orion. 
 
 The planets that reigned in the lofty sky 
 When the voyagers' lives were born 
 
 Gave a dimmer light, and their lustre paled 
 As it pales at the rising morn. 
 
 Each mortal is part of a noble scheme 
 That renders the stars and the suns 
 
 The fellows of man, the beast, and the bird, 
 And the humblest creature that runs. 
 
 From the frozen South whence the keen winds come 
 
 In their mantles of fleecy snow, 
 Where the penguins quaint o'er the icy fields 
 
 In the springtide wandering go, 
 
 7 1
 
 THE FATED SHIP 
 
 Like creeping ghosts from the verge of the world 
 The icebergs approached through the gloom, 
 
 Their shapeless forms, with a menace dread, 
 'Midst the clouds and the mists 'gan loom. 
 
 Dread warships they of the monarch who reigns 
 O'er the realms of the Southern Pole, 
 
 Whose palace is lit by the splendid flames 
 That from th' Aurora roll. 
 
 The craft steamed free, and the music of mirth 
 
 Oft enlivened its rich saloon, 
 For none ever deemed that its end was nigh 
 
 Or offered an orison. 
 
 Oh kind is the fate that hides from our ken 
 
 The manner of death we shall die, 
 The hour when the soul taking wing from its clay 
 
 Shall travel new destiny ! 
 
 Unheard was the cry that affrighted the night, 
 
 The cry of poor mortals in pain, 
 By the kindred folk who counted the hours 
 
 Till loved friends should meet again. 
 
 72
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 FROM the spaces remote, 
 
 The ultimate sky, 
 Where the spirits divine 
 
 On languid wings fly, 
 Comes forth the moon proudly, 
 
 The empress of night, 
 Her orbed shield diffusing 
 
 Rich floods of pure light. 
 The sheen of its brightness 
 
 In quiet waves falls 
 On Earth's noble cities, 
 
 Towers, palaces, halls. 
 Clothed thus in calm splendour, 
 
 These strong fabrics seem 
 The gossamer fancies 
 
 Of some happy dream. 
 
 Its beams soft and silent, 
 
 Descending from high, 
 Bearing down to the world 
 
 Some balm of the sky, 
 To hearts sad and weary 
 
 A sweet solace bring, 
 Alike in its favours 
 
 To peasant and king. 
 73
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 Oft through the long ages 
 
 The moon's lucid sphere 
 Has lit up the vista 
 
 Where raptures appear 
 To eyes of fond lovers 
 
 Who roam there alone, 
 Unmindful, regardless, 
 
 Of thoughts not their own. 
 
 II 
 
 On the hamlets that sleep, 
 
 Whose sleepers care not 
 For the years that pass by, 
 
 Nor better their lot ; 
 On the fields where the corn, 
 
 The fruit of the plough, 
 Bends rustling as o'er it 
 
 The warm breezes sough, 
 
 On the vineyards whose spoil, 
 
 Plucked ripe from the vine, 
 Gushing out from the press 
 
 Distils the rich wine, 
 The luminous radiance 
 
 Sinks gently to rest ; 
 By the smile of the moon 
 
 All these are made blest. 
 
 in 
 
 'Mongst the lace of the trees 
 The full moonlight breaks, 
 
 Falling thick on the ground 
 In luminous flakes ; 
 74
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 Its fires soft and mellow 
 
 Gleam wanly and white, 
 Enticing to music 
 
 The birds of the night. 
 Weird shadows and loomings, 
 
 Dim shapes undefined, 
 Are born in the forest, 
 Perturbing the mind 
 Of wayfarer wandering, 
 
 By grim darkness caught, 
 Down alley and dell 
 
 Where wild dryads sport. 
 On the moss-covered root 
 The glowworm sits low, 
 And his little red lamp 
 
 Gives forth a dull glow; 
 While through the dark boscage 
 
 Flashes the firefly, 
 Rapid the vision of 
 
 Sparklets flitting by. 
 In the broad open space 
 
 Where the oak branches low 
 The moonbeams are gathered, 
 
 And there, rippling slow, 
 The rivulet murmurs 
 
 The tales that it heard 
 When by the young forest 
 
 The soil was first stirred ; 
 Then soon the green glory 
 
 Rose up in its might, 
 And the world, flushed with gladness, 
 Rejoiced at the sight. 
 
 75
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 IV 
 
 The snow spreads its mantle 
 
 White, fleecy, and cold, 
 O'er copse and o'er forest, 
 
 O'er meadow and wold; 
 Through the frosty air fall 
 
 Wanly the moon rays, 
 Like phantoms that flit down 
 
 Impalpable ways. 
 The people walk softly 
 
 Upon the pure snow, 
 Their feet move in silence 
 
 As onward they go. 
 
 Near looms the horizon 
 
 Fringing the desert 
 When from the depths sailing 
 
 The moon from the skirt 
 Of the world rises ruddy, 
 
 Full-orbed and splendid 
 The night's noble monarch 
 
 With planets attended. 
 From his cave the great lion 
 
 Emerges grimly, 
 With blood-lust enkindled 
 
 His eyeballs gleam fiercely. 
 
 Far over the drear waste 
 His voice thunders dread, 
 
 The frightened deer shivers, 
 Clings close to its bed ; 
 76
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 Then from the cold relics 
 
 That once were a fane, 
 Standing magnificent 
 
 Upon a rich plain, 
 Stalks forth a proud creature, 
 
 His tawny-skinned mate. 
 Majestic towards her 
 
 He marches elate, 
 From his couch in the tent 
 
 The nomad springs armed, 
 Glancing round with keen eye, 
 
 Watchful, not alarmed. 
 In highest heaven hangs 
 
 The sky's jewelled cope, 
 And between the bright spheres 
 
 Infinitudes ope : 
 'Tis the book of the stars 
 
 In whose mystic page 
 Man's fortunes were read by 
 
 The Chaldaean sage. 
 And the desert breeze stirs 
 
 The Bedouin's fierce soul, 
 Through its cavernous depths 
 
 The hot passions roll ; 
 While the sounds that he hears, 
 
 Wild, thrilling, and stern, 
 Fan the flames that within 
 His martial heart burn. 
 
 VI 
 
 Dark clouds o'er the crescent 
 That sits in the sky 
 
 77
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 Glide slowly and hide it 
 
 A space from the eye. 
 It looks on a region 
 
 Where the streams flow red, 
 Like leaves that are fallen 
 
 The soldiers lie dead. 
 The din of the battle 
 
 Still hangs in the wind, 
 The lingering presence 
 
 That war leaves behind ; 
 The ghoul birds are searching 
 
 For morsels obscene, 
 And the robbers who steal 
 
 From dead warriors are seen 
 Like grim shadows gliding 
 
 Now here and now there, 
 They taint with their being 
 
 The nocturnal air. 
 The clouds through deep fissures 
 
 Reveal the bright stars, 
 Low on the horizon 
 
 Gleams ruddy- hued Mars. 
 
 VII 
 
 Where the snow-vestured peaks 
 
 Of huge mountains hoar 
 Through a rarefied air 
 
 Majestically soar, 
 While the forest's dark robe 
 
 Flows over the feet 
 Of the ranges, and makes 
 
 A leafy retreat, 
 78
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 There sits the white moonlight, 
 
 Pale, holy, serene, 
 With dreams of devoutness 
 
 Suffusing the scene. 
 The cries of strange creatures, 
 
 The denizens here, 
 Have never descended 
 
 Upon human ear ; 
 The kingdom of Nature 
 
 Spreads out undefined, 
 Untraversed by man, 
 
 Untrodden the wild. 
 The moon from her chariot, 
 
 Through the ether whirled, 
 Looks down on a rugged, 
 
 A virginal world ; 
 Flitting phantoms she sees, 
 
 The vague, moving shapes 
 Of the creatures that lived, 
 
 The tigers and apes, 
 The forms that were fashioned 
 
 In Nature's prime mould, 
 From her bountiful force 
 
 Ere the world grew old. 
 
 VIII 
 
 O moonlight abounding, 
 Whose clear radiance laves 
 
 With silvery splendour 
 The crests of the waves, 
 
 The Earth's flashing waters, 
 Lakes, rivulets, streams, 
 79
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 Gain tremulous beauty 
 
 Beneath thy soft beams ; 
 The cataract thunders 
 
 Amidst the spray mist 
 Adown the steep ravine 
 
 Where oft it is kissed 
 By thee, when dark masses 
 
 Of clouds are withdrawn 
 And thy brightness is shed forth 
 
 Like wine from a horn. 
 
 Deep down in the ocean 
 
 Thy soft glory falls 
 Until it illumines 
 
 The Nereid's halls, 
 Caverns, and palaces, 
 
 The homes of sea kings, 
 Where move the dim shades of 
 
 Unspeakable things ; 
 The waters about them 
 
 Suffused with thy sheen 
 Become a liquescent 
 
 Illustrious scene, 
 Displaying a mellow 
 
 Strange lustre to eyes 
 That look from Earth's regions 
 
 On blue- vaulted skies. 
 
 O mild light unchanging, 
 Untarnished by years, 
 
 Thou sheddest a pure flood 
 O'er all that appears 
 80
 
 SONGS OF THE MOON 
 
 When from her couch rising 
 
 The moon walks serene 
 Amid the proud planets 
 
 Of heaven the queen ! 
 Plains, mountains, and valleys 
 
 Are washed with the foam, 
 The bubblings that well from 
 
 Her crystalline home.
 
 THE SONG OF THE SUN 
 
 FROM the caverns of dark night, 
 Clothed with red and amber light, 
 In resplendent garments dight, 
 
 Comes the Sun. 
 
 Warmth, and gaiety, and love 
 From his burning chariot move, 
 From the azure realms above, 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 Flush the trees with sudden green, 
 On the water lies a sheen 
 Where the little waves are seen 
 By the Sun. 
 
 All the flowers their pretty eyes 
 Open wide in sweet surprise 
 When they hear the amorous sighs 
 Of the Sun. 
 
 Seated in his rustic wain 
 Trolls the waggoner his strain 
 When his drowsy eye again 
 
 Sees the Sun. 
 82
 
 THE SONG OF THE SUN 
 
 Every bird with spirit gay 
 Joyous pipes its pleasant lay, 
 Hails the ruler of the day, 
 
 Hails the Sun. 
 
 And the cattle in the lea 
 Crop the pastures lustily 
 When from slumber's chains set free 
 By the Sun. 
 
 Flitting by on painted wings, 
 Choicest of created things, 
 Flames the butterfly, and springs 
 In the Sun. 
 
 All the merry insect tribe 
 Swarms about the country-side, 
 Filled with life which they imbibe 
 From the Sun. 
 
 And the lover's heart beats high 
 As he sees the festal sky 
 Flooded with the beams that fly 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 For the comforts of sweet hope 
 With his fears and doubtings cope 
 When the golden lances slope 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 Wakes the maiden from her dreams, 
 Roused from slumber by the gleams, 
 By the warm and ruddy beams, 
 Of the Sun. 
 
 83
 
 THE SONG OF THE SUN 
 
 Joyful breaks her bridal day, 
 Through her breast sweet fancies stray 
 Like the motes that idly play 
 In the Sun. 
 
 Then from out the rosy morn 
 Lustrous noontide hours are born, 
 Flakes of beauty that are torn 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 Softly falls the saffron rain 
 Sliding through the aery main, 
 To the world a glorious gain 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 Palpitates the Earth's cold breast, 
 Beating with a fuller zest, 
 By the ardent rays caressed 
 
 Of the Sun. 
 
 Splendid through the summer hours 
 Blooms the carpet of rich flowers, 
 Breathing fragrance from the dowers 
 Of the Sun. 
 
 From his horn of plenty shed 
 Blessings o'er the world are spread, 
 And the Earth to sky is wed 
 
 By the Sun. 
 
 84
 
 THE STARS 
 
 O STARS, that shed your placid light 
 Upon the world that lies below, 
 
 When night its sombre mantle spreads 
 And spirits wander to and fro ! 
 
 Men pass like leaves, but ye shine on 
 In changeless beauty through the years ; 
 
 Age follows age, but still the same 
 Light glistens from your lustrous spheres. 
 
 Time lessens not your chastened fires, 
 What ye are now so were ye when 
 
 The Earth, full wearied of the beast, 
 Began to be the home of men. 
 
 Your beams fell softly on the Nile 
 Ere yet the Shepherd Kings were born, 
 
 Before the Pyramids had shape, 
 When Egypt was a land forlorn, 
 
 When from the shrine where Isis dwelt 
 The priest with quickened pulses came, 
 
 His rapt soul filled with ecstasy, 
 A frenzy shaking his gaunt frame. 
 85
 
 THE STARS 
 
 He saw your beacons shining clear, 
 The hallowed splendour of the moon, 
 
 The columns of the temple laved 
 With radiance like a silver noon. 
 
 And, lo ! the soft, celestial rays 
 Bedewed his wild, enraptured soul, 
 
 And from its dim recesses deep 
 The fev'rous mists began to roll. 
 
 Strange visions of a nobler faith 
 A God who dwelt not in the fane, 
 
 Who lusted not for streams of blood, 
 Nor cared for sacrifices vain 
 
 Grew manifest to inward sight, 
 
 And sudden came the thought " Perchance 
 My creed is but an empty sherd 
 
 Fashioned by craft and ignorance." 
 
 O stars ! ye glittered brightly when 
 The old Chaldaeans sought the lore 
 
 Which he who gains shall hold the key 
 That opens Nature's secret door. 
 
 And glittered, too, when your chaste eyes 
 
 Looked down reproachfully upon 
 The riot in the palaces 
 
 And wanton halls of Babylon. 
 
 And when the Christ, of woman born, 
 With manhood clothed His form divine, 
 
 Your lamps illumed the heavenly vault, 
 And made the sinful world a shrine. 
 86
 
 THE STARS 
 
 Unnumbered peoples ye have seen 
 
 To flourish in their little day, 
 Then pass unto an unknown bourne 
 
 The Greek, the Roman, where are they ? 
 
 Man, torn by passion and desire, 
 
 Linked to the Earth by unseen chains, 
 
 Scarce lifts his eyes to where afar 
 
 The splendour of the midnight reigns. 
 
 There seraph unto seraph calls 
 Their voices on the ether swim, 
 
 And blessed souls together talk, 
 Companions of the cherubim. 
 
 Shine on, O stars, and may your light 
 In soothing floods our souls immerse ; 
 
 Shine on, till man has left the Earth 
 Ye torches of the Universe !
 
 THE WINDS 
 
 O WINDS that scourge the hollow deep, 
 O winds that o'er the broad lands sweep, 
 What life within you makes you strong, 
 Or sometimes sings a tender song ? 
 
 Your mighty hands the great oaks shake, 
 At your fierce cries the billows quake, 
 The lion shrinks within his lair 
 When o'er the plain your fleet steeds tear. 
 
 And yet full oft, in summer hours, 
 Transporting scent of fragrant flowers 
 On fairy pinions, moving slow, 
 Softly you come, and softly go. 
 
 Invisible to mortal sight, 
 Your forms ne'er showing in the light 
 If shapes you have, for who can tell 
 What unseen presences may dwell 
 
 Within Creation's vast domain 
 Upon whose marge we roam and gain 
 An inkling of what it enfolds, 
 The secret treasures that it holds ? 
 88
 
 THE WINDS 
 
 Lonely you wander, seeking rest 
 Upon the Earth's reluctant breast, 
 But goaded by a spur that stings 
 Ceaseless you move your weary wings. 
 
 Companions of poor man since he 
 First entered on his destiny, 
 Your voices over old and young 
 Full many a requiem have sung. 
 
 Full oft have you heard lovers' sighs, 
 Full often battle's dreadful cries, 
 The soughings of the breezy gale 
 Have mingled with the mourners' wail. 
 
 Changeful you are, and yet the same 
 As when at even Adam came 
 With Eve to walk in Eden's groves 
 Where they rejoicing told their loves. 
 
 And you shall list, in days to come, 
 Unto the ever-murmuring hum 
 Of myriads marching with slow feet 
 Unto the drums of Life's dull beat. 
 
 Appanage of this terrene globe 
 You cling about it like a robe, 
 Nor will you leave it for a day 
 Until its life has passed away. 
 
 89
 
 THE COMET 
 (May, 1901) 
 
 WHAT orb is this that sheds a distant glory 
 
 And cleaves the sky with silver falchions twain,* 
 
 Now to the East proclaiming its strange story, 
 Now to the West recounting it again ? 
 
 From hidden depths of darkest space emerging, 
 A vision splendid in the sombre night, 
 
 Where wild the ether's soundless waves are surging 
 Its presence gleams, and captivates the sight. 
 
 Is it the chariot of an angel flying 
 
 In strenuous quest of some bright goddess dear 
 Who, driven by the force of love undying, 
 
 Has wandered errant from her proper sphere ? 
 
 Are these majestic beams which pierce the darkness 
 That fills the spacious void 'twixt star and star 
 
 The messengers sent forth to search the vastness 
 And hale the goddess to the heavenly bar ? 
 
 Or is it but the stirring of the forces 
 
 That move and thrill the cosmic region lorn 
 
 When from its depths, to run their fateful courses, 
 The flaming suns and placid moons are born ? 
 
 * This comet, as seen from New Zealand, had two tails. 
 9
 
 THE COMET 
 
 A sign and token to the wondering nations 
 
 The comet looms, a ghostly thing and strange, 
 
 Amid the planets and the constellations 
 The visitant in mystic garb doth range. 
 
 Low down the western sky its swords hang nightly, 
 And swiftly speeding on its unknown quest 
 
 It seeks the firmament where glitters brightly 
 The jewelled belt 'neath great Orion's breast. 
 
 And night by night more feeble grows its splendour, 
 And night by night the omen wanes and wanes, 
 
 The lustre of its glaives grows faint and tender, 
 As it the steep and higher sky attains. 
 
 Its wings of light melt in the distant spaces 
 Like hopes that cheer awhile, then fade away, 
 
 Deep in the ebon vault appear its traces 
 Till they grow dim and vanish ray by ray. 
 
 Oh whither art thou gone, thou thing of wonder, 
 To what untravelled region hast thou sped ? 
 
 Wilt thou again the heavens burst asunder 
 
 And o'er the Earth thy swords' bright radiance shed ? 
 
 Or wilt thou not return to this dominion 
 But wander age by age amongst the spheres 
 
 And light with thy soft flames the far empyrean 
 Till Time shall pass and Death destroy the years ? 
 
 91
 
 THE WORLD OUR HOME 
 
 THIS is our home this world of ours, 
 With all its pleasures, all its pains, 
 Its many losses, many gains, 
 
 Long days of grief, delightful hours. 
 
 Rich the joy by love begotten, 
 Heart bequeathing in full measure 
 To another heart its treasure, 
 
 Every care in bliss forgotten. 
 
 Earth has varied charms and wondrous, 
 For the seraph at its making, 
 His immortal pinions shaking, 
 
 Gave his choicest gifts to us. 
 
 Rivers, meadows, valleys, mountains, 
 Rocky caverns sometimes hiding, 
 'Mid their rugged hollows biding, 
 
 Bubbling, cool, translucent fountains. 
 
 Forests ancient, shaggy, glorious, 
 Dim their alleys and recesses 
 Where the fern trees fling their tresses 
 
 Over little brooks uproarious. 
 92
 
 THE WORLD OUR HOME 
 
 Roofed with azure is our dwelling, 
 And the sunlight glows and shimmers 
 Shooting radiance from its quivers 
 
 From the crystal concave welling. 
 
 Fleecy is the angels' raiment 
 Softly borne upon the ether, 
 Floating here and there together, 
 
 Trailing o'er the firmament. 
 
 And the night reveals the glory 
 Flooding the celestial nations, 
 Moon, and stars, and constellations, 
 
 Telling truths in allegory. 
 
 Rich their mansions, fretted, golden, 
 But the splendour of their portals 
 Lies beyond the ken of mortals, 
 
 Man has never them beholden. 
 
 Our keenest thought is but a guess 
 
 What kind of folk in these bright spheres 
 May keep the tale of passing years, 
 
 And count the time to nothingness. 
 
 Their destinies are not our own ; 
 
 What griefs, if any, dim their state, 
 
 What joys their lot alleviate, 
 Belong unto themselves alone. 
 
 Could we be rapt, on wings of might, 
 
 To some clear star, that shines undimmed, 
 Its image on the darkness limned, 
 
 An orb of tender, shining light, 
 93
 
 THE WORLD OUR HOME 
 
 Reluctant would our weary feet 
 Walk vainly in a foreign land, 
 Where none would take us by the hand 
 
 Or friendly voice our presence greet. 
 
 For 'tis the need of humankind 
 
 To seek the voice of sympathy 
 
 That brings the light into the eye 
 And stirs the pulses of the mind. 
 
 Much should we long for living things 
 
 That walk or fly, in varied guise, 
 
 Their dumb souls gleaming through their eyes, 
 While to their lives the base clod clings. 
 
 We all are linked by secret chains 
 To every creature, great and small, 
 That dwells upon this earthly ball, 
 
 Where life in many phases reigns. 
 
 The insect crawls its little span, 
 
 Thinking alone of sensual needs, 
 
 Dull as the leaf on which it feeds, 
 And yet it is akin to man. 
 
 Restrained by unseen bonds that mark 
 
 The limits of our destiny, 
 
 Vainly we struggle to be free 
 And reach the light from out the dark. 
 
 But sometimes we may chance to hear 
 Amid the storm and rack of thought 
 Rich strains with novel meaning fraught, 
 
 The hymnings of a nobler sphere. 
 94
 
 BLOW SOFT, YE WINDS 
 
 BLOW soft, ye winds, blow soft and low, 
 And waft my true love back to me, 
 
 For he comes from a distant shore, 
 And sails upon the broad, blue sea. 
 
 Blow soft, ye winds, nor rudely strain 
 The ship that bears my true love home, 
 
 For he returns with famished heart, 
 And never more from me will roam. 
 
 Ye seabirds who, with stately wing, 
 Pursue the ship in circles wide, 
 
 Be guardians of my true love now 
 He comes to claim me for his bride. 
 
 Ye sea nymphs gay, with joyous mien, 
 
 Disporting in the azure deep, 
 Pray Neptune bid the gales forbear 
 
 To rouse the waters from their sleep. 
 
 Blow soft, ye winds, blow soft and low, 
 Sweet music is your voice to me ; 
 
 I hear, amid its rustling chords, 
 The tones that I love tenderly. 
 95
 
 BLOW SOFT, YE WINDS 
 
 Speed on, O hours, grow short apace, 
 And let the days roll quickly by, 
 
 Let sun, and moon, and glowing stars, 
 More swiftly on their courses fly. 
 
 I see the gleaming of the waves 
 Beneath the fiery sun at noon ; 
 
 The trembling of the silver road 
 Illumined by the tender moon ; 
 
 Clothed with the light of sun and moon 
 The vessel breasts the boundless sea, 
 
 Before its prow the surges break 
 And spread their plashings merrily. 
 
 Rich are the murmurs that I hear 
 Each moment borne across the main ; 
 
 The air grows full of love and life, 
 And stirs with happiness again. 
 
 Blow soft, ye winds, yet linger not, 
 Nor cease to ruffle Ocean's tide, 
 
 Fair be the breathings that ye breathe, 
 And bring my true love to my side. 
 
 96
 
 THE ISLAND IN THE SEA 
 
 ONE day we went a sailing o'er a sunlit sea, 
 
 Our bark, as light as were our hearts, sailed merrily, 
 
 The wavelets lapped and laved its sides caressingly. 
 
 All through the summer morn, until high noon, the 
 
 fragrant zephyr blew, 
 We heard its breathings soft and low, we felt its touch, 
 
 we two ; 
 It sang to us a tender song, whose melody we knew. 
 
 We saw the seabirds float along, the seabirds white and 
 
 grey; 
 
 Anon the albatross stole down, anon he sailed away 
 Unto his kingdom lone, where he doth dwell in peace 
 
 alway. 
 
 We thought no more of hearth and home, we dreamed 
 
 but of the sea, 
 Of all the strange and wondrous things that in its depths 
 
 might be 
 The Mermaiden, and Nereids, and proud Amphitrite ; 
 
 H 97
 
 THE ISLAND IN THE SEA 
 
 The sunless city 'neath the waves, its name to man 
 unknown, 
 
 Where sea-sprites dwell, and Nereus, and Neptune has 
 his throne, 
 
 And Triton moves the waters with his conch's resound- 
 ing tone. 
 
 But when the sun had crossed the line which parteth 
 
 East from West, 
 
 Far off we saw a little isle upon the ocean's breast ; 
 There peacefully, a beauteous thing, the little isle did rest. 
 
 And as our shallop, drifting slowly, opened out the land, 
 Thick-wooded hills, with vales between, uprose on every 
 
 hand, 
 
 While on the beach, invitingly, there lay the milk- 
 white sand. 
 
 A surf which lulled the senses with its long, continuous 
 
 beat, 
 Fell on the shore and shot its foam, save where a stream 
 
 did meet 
 The ocean with its waters, and there the twain like 
 
 friends did greet. 
 
 'Twas here we let the vessel's keel rest on the yielding 
 
 shore, 
 We leaped upon the strand, which Ocean's gentle 
 
 tribute bore, 
 And it, perchance, had ne'er been pressed by human 
 
 foot before.
 
 THE ISLAND IN THE SEA 
 
 We wandered down a pleasant vale, and felt the languid 
 
 calm 
 That filled the place ; the trees diffused a rich, odorous 
 
 balm ; 
 Strange birds, with blithe and novel tunes, the mellow 
 
 air did charm. 
 
 We saw not how she came, nor whence, but to our 
 
 sight appeared 
 A gracious nymph, whose mien was that of one who in 
 
 the weird 
 And mystic palaces of Oceanus had been reared. 
 
 Her eyes were like the light of morn, her shape was 
 
 grace revealed, 
 Her sheeny hair, in lustrous waves, fell down, and half 
 
 concealed 
 A vesture whose resplendent hues no mortal loom could 
 
 yield. 
 
 " Come, rest ye here a little while," the radiant goddess 
 
 said, 
 " This is the isle of blessedness betwixt the quick and 
 
 dead, 
 And peacefulness with calm delight is here for ever wed." 
 
 The nymph's harmonious voice caressed our tingling 
 
 ears, and made 
 The heart's awakened fancies paint our cheeks a warmer 
 
 shade. 
 Then, as the goddess came, she went, and from our 
 
 sight did fade. 
 
 99
 
 THE ISLAND IN THE SEA 
 
 Long time we lingered on that isle, and roamed its 
 
 valleys green ; 
 We watched the cascade leaping down, we saw its light 
 
 between 
 The ancient trees that clothed the hills and broke the 
 
 cataract's sheen 
 
 We heard the rolling of the drums, the drums of human 
 
 life; 
 We heard the eager battle cries, the cries of human 
 
 strife ; 
 But they were far-off, ghostly sounds dim echoes 
 
 without life. 
 
 Our pensive souls responded not to these low mur- 
 
 murings, 
 The golden-visaged hours flew by, on soft and lulling 
 
 wings, 
 And Fancy wove an endless skein of bright imaginings. 
 
 One evening, as the sun sank down upon his saffron bed, 
 And o'er the island and the sea a waning light was shed, 
 While Night began its mantle dark across the sky to 
 spread, 
 
 We launched our little bark again ; the planets gleamed 
 
 on high ; 
 The billows shone with glittering sparks, the foam went 
 
 flashing by, 
 
 As we sailed back unto the shore we left so merrily. 
 
 100
 
 THE ISLAND IN THE SEA 
 
 Far off we saw the warning beam the beacon's splendid 
 
 ray, 
 And then appeared the many lights that twinkled round 
 
 the bay, 
 The dark hulls of the ships that rode where we had sailed 
 
 away. 
 
 The anchor dropped, the sail was furled ; the town 
 
 was on our lee ; 
 Once more we breathed the busy air that breathes 
 
 humanity ; 
 But always will our hearts desire the island in the sea. 
 
 101
 
 THE ENCHANTED LAND 
 
 A LAND like ours, yet not the same, 
 A land where rapture holds its reign, 
 And lighted by a novel flame. 
 
 The hues that from the heart are born, 
 The rosy tints of Love's bright morn, 
 By this enchanted land are worn. 
 
 The grass, the flowers, the leafy trees, 
 Are cherished by a finer breeze, 
 And greener meadows seek to please. 
 
 More brightly gleams the sparkling brook, 
 The bird, by ardent passion shook, 
 More gaily sings within its nook. 
 
 The joyous hours flow swiftly by, 
 Scarce doth the soul perceive them fly, 
 Thrilled with a blissful melody. 
 
 More musical the voice doth ring, 
 And lightsome thoughts incessant spring 
 From out the heart's low murmuring. 
 102
 
 THE ENCHANTED LAND 
 
 And fairy dreams and fancies rise, 
 Sweet visions float before the eyes, 
 Bright views of endless Paradise. 
 
 All angry passions lulled to rest, 
 Life courses on with fuller zest, 
 And blithe emotions fill the breast. 
 
 But, not vouchsafed to every eye, 
 The vision of this land doth fly 
 From many a one unceasingly. 
 
 A gift to those whose inward sight 
 Is quickened by Love's sweet delight 
 And purest passion burning bright. 
 
 And though its charms may pass and wane, 
 Earth's ashen garb come back again, 
 Yet still its memory doth remain. 
 
 103
 
 LOVE, THE GARDENER 
 
 LOVE, the gardener, lightly tilling, 
 
 Deft of hand and gay of heart, 
 Soils from whose impulse and thrilling 
 
 Flowers of glowing colours start, 
 Gives the dull and hueless sepals 
 
 Tended by his skilful care 
 Radiant glory, and the petals 
 
 Fragrance and new splendour wear. 
 
 Fruitful grow the barren places 
 
 By the delving of his toil, 
 Blooms appear and many graces 
 
 Deck the erstwhile rugged soil, 
 Hope, dear bird, her carol sings, 
 
 Flaming with a voice of fire, 
 Softly move the rustling wings 
 
 And warm breath of sweet desire. 
 
 104
 
 CHANGELESS FOR EVER 
 
 OH would that love's rapture, in bliss overflowing, 
 Could dwell in its fullness, nor suffer a change, 
 
 Each hour in its bosom fresh blooms of love showing, 
 And time but revealing affection's vast range 
 Changeless for ever ! changeless for ever ! 
 
 No measure can fathom the depth of the ocean 
 Of tempestuous love that envelopes the heart, 
 
 When we yield to the grasp of the kindly emotion 
 From whose fond embrace we would never more part 
 Changeless for ever ! changeless for ever ! 
 
 Oh would that the voice on whose accents we linger, 
 And dream that its tones are a gift from the sky, 
 
 Might dwell in our ears until life is no longer, 
 Nor cease to be heard while the ages roll by 
 Changeless for ever ! changeless for ever ! 
 
 Oh would that the moment when Love's rosy dawning 
 Is felt by our hearts to become perfect day 
 
 Could remain thus unblemished by trouble or scorning, 
 Its beauty untarnished by time or decay 
 Changeless for ever ! changeless for ever ! 
 
 105
 
 BY THE RIVER 
 
 IN the deep afternoon, when a mellow light shone 
 On the languescent waters, and played 
 
 'Mid the leaves of the trees, and the flowers' glowing 
 
 bloom, 
 While the cattle lay still in the shade, 
 
 By the river we sat, and we dreamed our sweet dreams, 
 Beneath an old monarch's great boughs, 
 
 And sometimes we whispered a few words of love, 
 Repeated our oft-spoken vows. 
 
 The manna we tasted that, falling from Heaven, 
 
 Is perceived by the bright eye of love, 
 The food of the gods thrills the blood with delight, 
 
 And softest emotions doth move. 
 
 Our thoughts were as one, and in unison beating, 
 Our hearts felt the ring of a passionate chime ; 
 
 The river flowed softly, and bore on its bosom 
 
 The moments we rescued from swift-passing Time. 
 
 Like flowers in the springtide, the sweet moments 
 
 burgeoned 
 
 Into blooms that were lavish and free, 
 Our senses dissolved in their perfume and splendour, 
 While the river rolled down to the sea. 
 106
 
 DREAMS 
 
 OH would I were resting beneath the dark lee 
 Of some giant mountain o'erlooking the sea, 
 Upon the grey sands where peace and rest be, 
 
 To list to the resonant cadence that rolls 
 
 From the ocean outspreading between the far poles, 
 
 Like anthems uprising from myriad souls ; 
 
 To rest and to rest, as the hours droning by 
 Half waken the thoughts that slumbering lie 
 In the secret recesses of memory ; 
 
 To sail on soft wings from the fever-racked Earth 
 To realms where the visions of fancy have birth, 
 And fashion a picture of wonderful worth ; 
 
 To dream of a region where love is not sold, 
 
 And men are not weighed in the balance with gold, 
 
 And hearts remain young, though bodies grow old ; 
 
 To dream of delights, without shadow or spot, 
 
 The cup of pure pleasure, with ecstasy shot, 
 
 The nectar the gods love, whom care troubles not ; 
 
 To let idle fancy climb up to the skies 
 And kindle her flambeau at Jove's burning eyes, 
 Then scatter the sparks to the world's glad surprise ; 
 107
 
 DREAMS 
 
 To dream of fair islands, the brides of the sun, 
 
 Begirdled with beauty, not loth to be won, 
 
 Their splendid green garments by elfin hands spun, 
 
 Where Nature is gracious, with bountiful smiles, 
 And the sweet, fragrant air to languor beguiles, 
 While the spirit of beauty walks free through the isles ; 
 
 To dream of weird forests, in lands far away, 
 The home of the Dryad, the home of the Fay, 
 Where the day is as night and the night is as day, 
 
 Where gnarled, knotted trees make a dim twilight shade 
 And moss clothes the ground of the fern-bedecked glade, 
 And birds lightly flit 'midst green leaves that ne'er fade ; 
 
 To dream of the days when the Muses were young, 
 And from their full breasts the rich melodies sprung 
 That touched with quick fire the poet's glad tongue 
 
 But now with the burden of ages oppressed 
 
 They fitfully slumber on Parnassus' crest, 
 
 Nor heed the deep longings that trouble man's breast. 
 
 O dreams that are born of the measureless sea 
 Of things that are living, of things that may be, 
 Oh let thy strange wonders appear unto me ! 
 
 108
 
 A LAMENT 
 
 THERE is a land across the sea 
 
 Far, far from me ; far, far from me, 
 My heart turns to it tenderly 
 
 Though far from me, 
 For there in childhood's days I sung 
 When all the world and I were young, 
 And pleasure lightly danced and flung 
 The flowers that from her fancy sprung 
 About the hallowed places dear 
 
 Now far from me. 
 
 In that bright clime my loved ones dwell 
 
 Far, far from me, 
 They think of me, I know full well, 
 
 Though far from me. 
 Sometimes I hear their voices dim 
 Like echoes of a distant hymn 
 Sung faintly on Earth's utmost rim, 
 
 Far, far from me ; 
 
 Perchance they come like spirits blessed, 
 And stir a tumult in my breast 
 
 Though far from me. 
 
 Often they sit about my chair, 
 I seek to touch them unaware, 
 But, lo ! they vanish like thin air 
 Far, far from me. 
 109
 
 A LAMENT 
 
 The sun shines here, but not the same, 
 
 It welters with a paler flame 
 
 Than in the land from whence I came, 
 
 Now far from me. 
 
 The moon shoots forth a milder beam, 
 The stars with fainter lustre gleam 
 Than in the land of which I dream, 
 
 Now far from me. 
 
 Oh happy day when I shall see 
 Once more the land across the sea 
 
 Now far from me ! 
 
 Then shall the sundered hearts be knit 
 And memories of the sad years flit 
 As in our pleasant home we sit, 
 
 Now far from me. 
 
 no
 
 THE BLACKBIRD * 
 
 ONE morn I heard a blackbird's lay 
 Sound sweetly at the break of day ; 
 He piped a tender song to move 
 The thoughts of his dear mate to love ; 
 His little soul, in ecstasy, 
 Poured forth delightful melody. 
 
 The spring was come ; the sun had kissed 
 
 Away the winter's gloomy mist ; 
 
 The buds grew thick, and then the trees 
 
 Flushed green before the vernal breeze, 
 
 While from the earth the glowing flowers 
 Peeped forth to greet the sunny hours. 
 
 With music clear, and many a trill, 
 The blackbird shook the air so still ; 
 The passion of his strain was strong, 
 And roused the feathered choir to song ; 
 Each bird sang in its own sweet way 
 And swelled th' amorous roundelay. 
 
 The sun rose up, and his rich hoard 
 From out his golden casket poured, 
 
 * The reader must bear in mind that this poem was written 
 in New Zealand. 
 
 Ill
 
 THE BLACKBIRD 
 
 With pleasant warmth the air was filled 
 
 And joyfully the gay birds trilled ; 
 The world a robe of gladness wore 
 And brighter hues than e'er before. 
 
 O blackbird ! coming from afar, 
 From distant lands where dwells the star 
 Which glitters by the Northern Pole, 
 And Boreal seas their surges roll ; 
 
 A stranger to this southern clime, 
 Thy voice here soundeth like the chime 
 
 Of far-off, long-forgotten bells, 
 
 Whose music suddenly upwells 
 
 From our full hearts when some chance word 
 
 Or ancient tune by us is heard ; 
 
 And from the depths of memory rise 
 Scenes long since vanished from our eyes. 
 
 O chorister ! whose dulcet voice 
 Has made the heart of man rejoice 
 Through many centuries, and bound 
 His thoughts in chains of silver sound, 
 
 Let thy rich fancy wander free 
 
 And fill the air with melody ! 
 
 112
 
 THE THRUSH 
 
 O THRUSH ! that welcomest the spring 
 
 With joyous trills and pleasant eye, 
 How grateful falls upon the ear 
 
 Thy untaught minstrelsy ! 
 Perched on a poplar's lofty bough, 
 
 Thou dost with liquid music greet 
 The green grass rising from the earth, 
 
 The primrose and the violet sweet. 
 
 Through summer's splendours, autumn's chills, 
 
 Resounds thy light and festal song, 
 Sometimes in little lays, half-born, 
 
 Sometimes in glorious fugue, and strong ; 
 Thy carols wake the morning when 
 
 The shrinking stars grow dim and pale, 
 And all the living things that move 
 
 The golden sunbeams hail. 
 
 It chances that, some winter day, 
 
 The irksome air grows warm and mild, 
 The sun shines forth, the placid world 
 
 Breathes softly like a sleeping child ; 
 Then issues from the leafless grove 
 
 A few notes of a low sweet tune, 
 Which tell us that thy voice remains 
 
 The master of a magic rune. 
 I 113
 
 THE THRUSH 
 
 For were the song of bird to cease, 
 
 And silence fall on hill and wood ; 
 And feathered creatures noiseless sweep 
 
 Athwart the air in pensive mood, 
 The music that wells from the earth, 
 
 Where wondrous melodies lie stored, 
 Would lose the splendour of its tones, 
 
 And shattered be its finest chord. 
 
 O bird ! whose voice enthralled the ears 
 
 Of men in ages long forgot, 
 Thy song delightful soothes the hearts 
 
 Of rich and those of humble lot ; 
 Amid the groves of Paradise 
 
 Thy trills at even Adam heard 
 Ere by a dear companion's smile 
 
 The depths of human love were stirred. 
 
 When first thou piped'st thy anthem sweet 
 
 'Twas early in Creation's day, 
 Thou drank'st the primal dews that fell 
 
 From Heaven that glistened far away ; 
 Thy tongue was touched with music born 
 
 In some remote, celestial sphere, 
 Where care, nor pain, nor toil is felt, 
 
 Nor sorrow sheds its bitter tear. 
 
 Sing on, O bird ! for thy blithe strains 
 Are Nature's own immortal song, 
 
 Thou art a chorister who chants 
 
 An anthem in an unknown tongue ; 
 114
 
 THE THRUSH 
 
 With liquid ripplings flowing free 
 Thou bringest joy to him who knows 
 
 The secret places whose retreat 
 Can give the wearied mind repose.
 
 BIRD-SONGS 
 
 How sweet the songs by gay birds sung 
 In springtide hours when o'er the Earth 
 
 The sun his mantle warm has flung 
 
 And flowers from inert seeds have birth ! 
 
 They chirp and pipe delightful lays 
 By love's voluptuous warmth inspired, 
 
 And usher in the sunny days 
 
 With warblings by strong passion fired. 
 
 They herald with ecstatic strains 
 
 The advent of a season new, 
 Unfolding as the winter wanes 
 
 Fresh beauties daily to the view. 
 
 Their voices fill the pleasant air 
 And quicken it with life and joy, 
 
 The tremors of a music rare, 
 A chaste delight, without alloy. 
 
 Ye silver-throated creatures gay, 
 
 Rejoicing in the summer sun, 
 Whence go ye when your merry day 
 
 And little mundane tasks are done ? 
 116
 
 A DREAM 
 
 THE night was in its prime ; the ebon sky 
 Was gemmed and fretted with unnumbered stars 
 That shone like living eyes ; the Milky Way 
 Displayed its lustrous and majestic train 
 Upon the floor of Heaven ; while silence wrapped 
 The world in soft embrace and stillness rare. 
 'Tis in such hours the mind casts off the gyves 
 That bind it oft, and we can roam in thought 
 Beyond the narrow confines of our lot 
 And walk the Universe. A vision rose 
 Slow born and wonderful, and cast a spell 
 Upon my troubled brain, that vainly sought 
 To break th' enchantment, for the vision seemed 
 A dream within a dream. A summer sun 
 Bathed the enamoured Earth with glowing light ; 
 The fields were green ; the leaves that clothed the trees 
 Danced to the music of the jocund air ; 
 The birds carolled delightful utterings ; 
 The cattle browsed upon the prosperous lea 
 Or chewed the cud with gratified content ; 
 All Nature was alert and rich with life, 
 Except that man, the end and crown of things, 
 No longer dwelt upon the terrene globe 
 Enjoying there a little span of years, 
 For war's dire slaughter, and the deadly darts 
 Of pestilence on pestilence had racked 
 117
 
 A DREAM 
 
 All lands through many centuries, till none 
 Were left to breathe the breath of human life 
 Or procreate their kind. Great cities stood 
 Untenanted ; their palaces and marts, 
 Where once ambition and the greed of gain 
 Made many hearts beat fiercely where gaiety, 
 And grief, and love, and all the varied moods 
 That render man the plaything of desire, 
 vStirred with full force an animated throng 
 Were mute and desolate ; proud fleets decayed 
 Beside the rotting wharves ; the thick red rust 
 Fed on the dreadnought, and its mighty guns 
 Lay by their mountings ; nor did a single wreath 
 Of smoke curl upward from the silent farms 
 Or wheel of mill obey the rushing stream : 
 Man's work was done ; but still the globe rolled on 
 And sought in space a new and fresh career. 
 
 118
 
 THE SONG OF SOLITUDE 
 
 A BIRD was warbling in a sombre wood, 
 Piping his song hard by to where I stood, 
 The wood resounded with his cheerful note 
 As music rippled from his gifted throat, 
 But he sang all alone. 
 
 No mate had he, with sympathising ear, 
 And love-lit eye reposing on her dear, 
 To pay a welcome tribute to his power 
 And share the rapture of his heavenly dower, 
 But he sang all alone. 
 
 Adown the ancient wood's umbrageous aisles, 
 Athwart its copses where the warm sun smiles, 
 Rang sweet and clear the bird's archaic chime, 
 A tune first carolled in a far-off time, 
 But he sang all alone. 
 
 A waste it seemed, this noble monody, 
 A useless flood of glorious melody, 
 That from the bird's enchanted bosom poured, 
 Where every strain of harmony lay stored, 
 For he sang all alone. 
 119
 
 THE SONG OF SOLITUDE 
 
 So doth the sea, in some lone tropic bay, 
 Where luscious day succeeds to luscious day, 
 Chant the grand chant that issues from its surge 
 When it falls proudly on the coral verge, 
 But chants it all alone. 
 
 For beauty shines where oft it is not viewed, 
 The aloe blooms in desert solitude, 
 And music ripples where it is not heard ; 
 Sometimes the soul of man, sometimes of bird, 
 Sings its sweet song alone. 
 
 The spirit of the Universe that breathes 
 The foam of life and ardent love that seethes 
 Throughout the world, from its glad bounty breaks 
 Into spontaneous melody, and makes 
 A music of its own. 
 
 There needs no listener for th' enraptured soul, 
 From its own sources of delight there roll 
 And bubble up, like an exuberant spring, 
 The waters that their joyous spoutings fling 
 In music of their own. 
 
 And yet, perchance, some loiterer in the shade, 
 Supinely wandering down life's rocky glade, 
 May feel the pulses of his heart beat strong 
 Responding to the strains of the strange song 
 That is sung all alone. 
 
 O mother Nature ! who with jealous eyes 
 Thy secrets guard'st from those who sympathise 
 120
 
 THE SONG OF SOLITUDE 
 
 Not with thy beauty, nor the glowing flame, 
 The tide of passion that flows through thy frame, 
 Nor with thy song, 
 
 Reveal thyself to my perfected sight 
 And let me see thee in thy own pure light, 
 Give me the power to know thee as thou art, 
 And hear the beatings of thy wondrous heart, 
 Also thy song. 
 
 121
 
 NATURE 
 
 THERE are a voice and silence that oppress 
 
 The mind with awe, and make it dimly feel 
 How little 'tis removed from nothingness, 
 
 A spark that flies from Nature's whirring wheel 
 The voice is of the Sea, whose godlike song 
 
 Has pealed unceasing since Creation's dawn ; 
 It floats amid the air that wafts along, 
 
 And on the typhoon's thund'rous wings is borne ; 
 From Ocean's vast unfathomed depths arise 
 The chords of strange, impassioned harmonies. 
 
 The silence is the Night's : the wind is still, 
 
 And countless stars begem the night's black crest, 
 Soft slumber spreads its veil o'er plain and hill, 
 
 All things seem wrapped in an eternal rest ; 
 Then thought on thought ascend, and seek an air 
 
 Beyond the confines of Earth's narrow bounds, 
 Freely they roam, and mount to regions where 
 
 The shuttle of life's varied loom resounds. 
 Clay-clad, brute-made, man grovels in the sty, 
 Yet his proud wit can pierce infinity. 
 
 There is a solitude that soothes the mind, 
 And yet gives birth to fears ; it dwells within 
 
 The forest old and dim ; where creepers wind 
 
 Around the gnarled tree-trunks their tendrils thin ; 
 122
 
 NATURE 
 
 The hoary moss grows thick, and naught is heard 
 But some weird sound of falling bough or tree, 
 
 Or little twitter of an unseen bird, 
 Or creeping thing that moveth warily. 
 
 Amidst this pensive solitude awhile 
 
 We from the world our senses may beguile. 
 
 The voice, the solitude, and silence are 
 
 But shades and breathings of immortal things ; 
 Each coming from a glorious realm afar, 
 
 Some balm of consolation brings. 
 The noises of the world grow faint, and fade 
 
 Before the presence of infinity, 
 And Nature's mighty form looms through the shade, 
 
 Majestic in its calm serenity. 
 Changeless is Nature, yet most mutable, 
 Its wonders manifold, ineffable. 
 
 123
 
 THE CASTAWAY 
 
 A LONELY rock in a lonely sea, 
 
 Scattered with splashes of foam, 
 Churned in the depths where the sea-sprites dwell 
 
 And the Nereids have their home ; 
 Shot with light from the utmost dark 
 
 Where creatures ungainly be, 
 About it the unkempt breezes chant 
 
 Wild anthems unceasingly. 
 
 Monolith raised by the earthquake's might, 
 
 Torn from a quarry old 
 When the thunder 'neath the ocean bed 
 
 In dreadful pealings rolled, 
 The waves boiled up in a turbid flood, 
 
 And the sky was dimmed with smoke 
 That came from the secret places whence 
 
 The fiery tempest broke. 
 
 A lonely man on this lonely rock 
 
 A desolate watch doth keep, 
 For his comrades all have left their lives 
 
 In the grasp of the ethal deep, 
 The ship sleeps sound on the ocean bed 
 
 And its memory, day by day, 
 Grows dim, till none doth name its name, 
 
 Save the sad-faced castaway. 
 124
 
 THE CASTAWAY 
 
 The sea-birds squat on their couches rude, 
 
 Nor heed that his step draws nigh 
 Companions they, and he seeks from them 
 
 A measure of sympathy ; 
 For the throes that shake the soul of man 
 
 Are felt by the seabird too, 
 The chords that are struck for humankind 
 
 Ring all creation through. 
 
 The brown seal mews on its rocky ledge, 
 
 And the kelp swings to and fro, 
 Its broad fronds showing their shiny beads 
 
 As the surges come and go. 
 The blazing sun with its torch becomes 
 
 The scourge of the listless day, 
 Till the evening spreads its welcome cloak 
 
 O'er the sad-faced castaway. 
 
 Solitude born of the sombre night 
 
 When hushed is the seafowl's cry, 
 And the moon suspends its silver lamp 
 
 From the star-bespangled sky ; 
 Solitude bred from the weary waste 
 
 That welters low in the sun, 
 And seems the same when the day begins 
 
 As it does when the day is done. 
 
 The voice whose strong crying is heard in 
 
 Nature's recesses alone 
 Gives a rapture to those who can hear its 
 
 Varied and glorious tune ; 
 125
 
 THE CASTAWAY 
 
 But the heart seeks a living devotion, 
 The beat of another heart nigh, 
 
 When gladness responds unto gladness, 
 And sigh responds unto sigh. 
 
 126
 
 FROM ROCKY LEDGE 
 
 FROM rocky ledge, nigh unto Heaven's own gateway, 
 Rejoicing leaps the flashing waterfall ; 
 
 The mists ascend ; above the sunlit spray 
 The rainbow hangs its tinted arch o'er all. 
 
 The living creatures whose perpetual presence 
 Brings gladness to the land, and air, and sea, 
 
 Bear each within its breast life's unknown essence, 
 Creation's most recondite mystery. 
 
 But we have lost the sense of things immortal, 
 
 Pacing upon a dull, mechanic plane, 
 Nor heed the whispers that from wisdom's portal 
 
 Exhort us to pursue the higher gain. 
 
 The thunder rolls, but it awakes no echo 
 Beyond the sullen roar that fills the ear ; 
 
 The lightning flames, but its bright dazzlings show 
 No depths save those which to the eye appear. 
 
 Throughout the night the starry clusters gleam 
 And countless suns that burn so far away 
 
 That their immeasurable torches seem 
 
 But golden points that in fixed places stay. 
 127
 
 FROM ROCKY LEDGE 
 
 We watch their times and motions, and perceive 
 Between them and this globe analogies, 
 
 A common force between them all doth weave 
 A twisted strand of many coloured plies. 
 
 Our minds grow dull ; the joy of youth no longer 
 Bounds gaily through the warm, impassioned veins, 
 
 The dance is slow, and fashion's chains are stronger 
 Than Nature's crude and inartistic skeins. 
 
 We count the hours ; the minutes sadly linger, 
 The wine of life is drunk unto the lees ; 
 
 How shall the cup be filled, and who the bringer ? 
 When shall again sweet music court the breeze ? 
 
 The fire that floods the Universe with splendour 
 Burns as of old ; untarnished are its rays, 
 
 But sullen mists from out the marshes render 
 Its flames an idle phantom in the haze. 
 
 Oh that some spirit, from the realms untravelled 
 Beyond the utmost ken of human thought 
 
 Would breathe a breath drawn from the winds Elysian 
 With life of gods and perfect vigour fraught ! 
 
 The world is ours ; its lights and shadows blending, 
 About its hill-tops oft the lightnings gleam, 
 
 Strange visions rise, from untold depths ascending, 
 Sometimes it seems a dream within a dream. 
 
 128
 
 THE VOICES OF THE EARTH 
 
 THE voices of the Earth are manifold, 
 
 They pause not day or night, and all express 
 The endless strivings of its restlessness, 
 
 The searchings of its soul profound and old, 
 
 Nor shall they cease until the sun grows cold. 
 Soft sigh the summer breezes as they pass 
 Across the meadows verdant with lush grass, 
 
 Or rustle through the cornfields' ripening gold. 
 
 About the brook the busy insects hum, 
 The birds make gay the air with countless notes, 
 Brave songs proceeding from their joyous throats 
 
 The grasshopper beats on his merry drum ; 
 The cascade leaps adown the rocky glade, 
 A choral temple by its music made. 
 
 Dread is the lion's roar when heard by night, 
 The jungle shakes when many a savage beast 
 Cries fearfully, pursuing his dire feast, 
 
 The wolf -pack howls when comes the prey in sight, 
 
 And, lo ! the globe itself, bestirred by might, 
 Gives forth its utterances strange and wild, 
 The mutterings of Dame Nature's wondrous child, 
 
 From Chaos fashioned by the quickening light. 
 K 129
 
 THE VOICES OF THE EARTH 
 
 The storm-winds shriek across the foam-clad sea, 
 Echoes the thunder 'mongst the rugged hills, 
 And subterranean sound with terror fills 
 
 All animated things when horrently 
 The earthquake creeps and rumbles in his lair, 
 And cries of frighted men pervade the air. 
 
 130
 
 THE INVITATION 
 
 I HEARD a strange voice calling, loudly calling unto me, 
 " Why linger in the city where the truth is bought and 
 
 sold, 
 Where the brain is always seething and the heart is never 
 
 free 
 
 From the fever and the canker of the fierce pursuit 
 of gold ? 
 
 " See'st thou not the many marvels of this wondrous 
 
 earthly ball 
 
 Clad with soft and fleecy garments of the ever- 
 changing cloud, 
 Sometimes with silvern draperies that in thick masses 
 
 fall, 
 
 Or barred with gold and crimson when the glowing 
 sunbeams crowd ? 
 
 " Lo ! it throbs with animation, seas, and turquoise- 
 tinted lakes, 
 Plains, and mountains hoary, meadows basking in 
 
 the sun, 
 Every moment some new creature to an earthly being 
 
 wakes 
 
 From the silence of old chaos to a realm of gladness 
 won.
 
 THE INVITATION 
 
 " Though of gold your purse be empty, yet of land and 
 
 sky and sea 
 The glories are your kingdom, where you may roam at 
 
 will, 
 Watch the azure of the mountain, and the greenness of 
 
 the lea, 
 
 Listen to the soft winds sighing, and the murmur of 
 the rill. 
 
 " When Love, on merry pinions, scatters roses here and 
 
 there, 
 Seldom he on wealthy mansion doth his choicest gifts 
 
 bestow ; 
 Where the simple heart is waiting in a trance of fancy, 
 
 there 
 
 He the best of all his guerdons with a bounteous 
 hand doth throw. 
 
 " And the pulses that through Nature stir the varied 
 
 forms of life, 
 From the dull and creeping insect to the dwellers in 
 
 the sun, 
 
 Never make their palpitation felt amid the stress and strife 
 Of the battle of keen spirits where much gold is lost 
 and won." 
 
 Then the voice grew faint and fainter till its tones were 
 
 heard no more, 
 And they passed and were forgotten like a pleasant 
 
 summer's dream, 
 But they touched a finer fancy than had been my lot 
 
 before, 
 
 And the world put on new beauty in the splendour of 
 its gleam. 
 
 132
 
 LO, WE HAVE GROWN MORE WISE 
 
 Lo, we have grown more wise than men of old 
 Who saw a deity in every star, 
 And when the thunder, pealing from afar, 
 
 Athwart the sky in dreadful tremors rolled 
 
 They deemed that thus did Jove his wrath unfold, 
 While o'er the creatures that in ocean play 
 Poseidon ruled, with sole despotic sway 
 
 Majestic was his form, of might untold ; 
 
 And priests, by forest altars rude, intoned 
 
 Brave hymns unto the nymphs divine who reigned 
 O'er wood and grove, nor was their love disdained 
 
 By gods, who in the lofty skies enthroned 
 Came down to Earth and brought the fire of love, 
 First kindled in the glorious realms above. 
 
 But now we hear unmoved the thunder peal 
 And deem it but the crash of forces blind, 
 Whose clangour is as mindless as the wind 
 
 That roves around the world with aimless zeal ; 
 
 And when the moonbeams o'er the ocean steal 
 Flushing the sullen waves with silver light 
 We do not dream, though ravished by the sight, 
 
 That Cynthia thus his glory doth reveal. 
 
 133
 
 LO, WE HAVE GROWN MORE WISE 
 
 The forest hears no voice of faun or fay, 
 No dryad sports within its bosky glades, 
 A soulless life dwells in its green arcades, 
 
 A life that stirs the sap in some mechanic way ; 
 'Natheless I ween we have not fathomed all 
 The powers and lives that haunt this mundane ball. 
 
 134
 
 FANCY 
 
 FANCY sweet, from slumber waking, 
 Ope thy palace gates to me, 
 
 Let my soul's enraptured vision 
 All its many marvels see. 
 
 Chambers golden, fretted, glorious, 
 
 Full of pleasant mystery, 
 Where elate we wander gaily 
 
 From oppressive cares set free. 
 
 There the dreams of all the ages, 
 
 Dreams of gnome, and dreams of fay, 
 
 Myths and wondrous tales of India, 
 Legends strange of old Cathay, 
 
 Dwell unchanged for aye and ever, 
 Living like corporeal things, 
 
 Not the misty shapes begotten 
 Of our own imaginings. 
 
 Legends of enchanted maidens 
 Turned by wicked arts to stone, 
 
 Legends of heroic princes 
 
 In whose eyes all goodness shone, 
 135
 
 FANCY 
 
 Legends of the ocean cities 
 Where Poseidon is the lord, 
 
 And the treasures of his kingdom 
 In the sea's strange caves are stored. 
 
 All take seeming life and motion 
 As if time had backward sprung, 
 
 Leaping into long-past ages 
 When the world was fresh and young. 
 
 And perchance a mellow glory 
 
 Streaming through the crystal panes 
 
 Fills some chamber with bright visions 
 Of the future and its gains, 
 
 Vague as hopes that oft beguile us 
 In the buoyant days of youth, 
 
 Yet the glamour of their frenzy 
 Guiding us unto the truth. 
 
 Fancy, queen of wondrous kingdoms, 
 Realms where idle musings play, 
 
 But the charm of their begetting 
 Shall not fade, nor pass away. 
 
 136
 
 MEDITATIONS 
 
 THE deep sea pants with heavy siispirations, 
 The world is clad with beauty as of yore, 
 
 The sun sends forth its glowing undulations, 
 And night reclines upon a starry shore. 
 
 The ancient forests with their trees and mosses, 
 And blithe birds fluttering in the green arcades, 
 
 The gnarled trunks rugged with time-battered bosses, 
 Still hide a mystery in their hallowed shades. 
 
 The seasons come and go, in fixed mutation, 
 
 Just as they did in centuries gone by, 
 Each keeps its course, at its appointed station, 
 
 Unchangeable as changeless destiny. 
 
 And yet the sight is dim to our discerning, 
 Our pulses quicken not when we behold 
 
 The flame of nature with its ruddy burning, 
 Our hearts remain like sullen clay and cold. 
 
 The morning crowns the mountain tops with glory, 
 The snow spreads o'er their sides its mantle cold, 
 
 Down the ravines the glaciers old and hoary 
 Reluctant creep, with many an icy fold. 
 137
 
 MEDITATIONS 
 
 The blossom from the plaited bud emerges, 
 Its petals growing large from hour to hour, 
 
 Until its beauty to the sunlight surges 
 In all the splendour of the perfect flower. 
 
 Life palpitates in many forms and phases, 
 No part of Earth where man has ever trod 
 
 But is the home of animated races, 
 
 Some walk or fly, some crawl beneath the sod. 
 
 They live their lives, then drift into the gloaming 
 From whose dark shades none ever can return ; 
 
 Their lot fulfilled, they cease their busy roaming, 
 And Fate shakes further lives from its eternal urn. 
 
 138
 
 GLIMPSES 
 
 A SERAPH voice spoke in the night 
 
 In language of a distant clime : 
 " Come forth, and bask amid the light 
 
 That waits for thee ! 
 Let now thy thoughts on pinions strong 
 
 Ascend from out this earthly slime 
 And by swift rapture borne along 
 Rise blissfully ! 
 
 " Then shalt thou see before thee spread 
 
 The noble presence of the real, 
 Not world-wrought shadows that are wed 
 
 To minds perplexed, 
 Whose mazy forms and images 
 
 From inward sight the truth conceal, 
 With their delusive mirages 
 
 Man is but vexed. 
 
 " And thou shalt list the notes that fell 
 
 On Adam's ear in happy days, 
 That from the founts of Heaven did well 
 
 When Earth was glad, 
 Ere sin had touched a harsher string 
 
 That gave forth rude, discordant lays, 
 Then joy from Eden's groves took wing 
 And Earth grew sad." 
 
 139
 
 GLIMPSES 
 
 I heard and struggled to obey, 
 
 But slender meshes held me fast ; 
 My thoughts were hampered, nor could they 
 
 Break into flight, 
 And yet my quickened senses caught 
 
 The scattered splendours that were cast 
 From urns by noble seraphs brought 
 From realms of light. 
 
 140
 
 FAIRY LAND 
 
 O HAPPY land ! where once Titania reigned 
 O'er fairy peoples from a floral throne, 
 There sounded oft the horns of rippling tone, 
 
 The elfin horns that gentle music rained ; 
 
 Gone Oberon and his gay court that gained 
 
 Light-footed pleasures 'mongst the trees and flowers, 
 Who revelled in the sunbeams, while the hours 
 
 Flowed by as each some novel bliss attained. 
 
 Yet lest too much of happiness should cloy 
 A band of sprites on mischief oft were bent, 
 Puck was their ruler, and in him were blent 
 
 Malice and wisdom in complex alloy. 
 Strange was the sun which they beheld at noon, 
 The night revealed a full, romantic moon. 
 
 Yet oft I wis that fays and elves live still, 
 
 Though our dim eyes may not their forms dis- 
 cern, 
 
 For much have we of Nature's lore to learn, 
 The varied workings of her wondrous will, 
 And many phases that by turns fulfil 
 
 And make the fashion of her orb complete ; 
 
 While multitudinous pulses beat 
 And through the Universe stirs Life's strong thrill. 
 
 141
 
 FAIRY LAND 
 
 Dark is the ignorance of these new days, 
 We are replete with knowledge of a kind 
 That clouds the vision of the sated mind ; 
 
 Confused we wander in a tangled maze, 
 Nor dream there are of souls a finer brood 
 Than those invested with coarse flesh and blood. 
 
 Perchance shall come a time when men, o'erfed 
 With wealth immense and lavish luxury, 
 And ceaseless round of idle revelry, 
 
 Where vacuous minds a weary circuit tread, 
 
 May, for relief, to simpler ways be led. 
 When man to Nature makes himself ally, 
 And soaring upward to the higher sky, 
 
 The soul unto a finer sense is bred ; 
 
 The noble beings that frequent the Earth 
 
 In viewless legions make their presence known 
 As we, by rapture led, enter the zone 
 
 Where dwell the creatures not of mortal birth ; 
 Thus shall we hear amid the forest lorn 
 The rippling music of the elfin horn. 
 
 142
 
 THE .EOLIAN HARP 
 
 O HARP ^Eolian, wedded to the wind, 
 Whose gentle fingers from thy magic strings 
 
 Coax forth rare harmonies, 
 Not music such as from man's fancy springs 
 When he, aspiring to delightful things, 
 
 Beats out a pleasant lay, 
 
 Framed on an idle day 
 
 With art from instruments that his deft hands have 
 made, 
 
 But subtler, finer tones, 
 
 The fragrance of sweet sounds 
 That scarcely seek the listening ear to please 
 
 As if they were 
 Soft confidences 'twixt them and the amorous breeze. 
 
 Thou lov'st thy bridegroom's light caress; 
 
 When o'er the flower-clad fields he leaps 
 Laden with dreams of happiness, 
 
 And into thy own bower he peeps, 
 Your voices twain together blend 
 
 Into a single, rippling strain, 
 Like brooks that meet and thenceforth wend 
 
 A murmuring stream across the plain. 
 143
 
 THE ^OLIAN HARP 
 
 The wind can live without thee 
 But thou hast neither voice nor being till his touch 
 
 Inspires thy chords with life and melody, 
 Then from them sounds seraphic float and rise 
 
 And fall, and rise again in strains 
 Unmatched in their melodious harmonies. 
 
 Thou answerest not unto the angry wind, 
 Thy timid soul creeps to its secret cell, 
 
 And there awaits the passing of his wrath, 
 Until again his tenderness shall well. 
 
 O harp ^Eolian, silent art thou and lorn 
 Save when the jocund and caressing air 
 
 Bids thee give forth the music in thy heart, 
 Then dost thou yield rich strains and fancies fair. 
 
 144
 
 THE MAGIC TUNE 
 
 OH sing to me some magic tune 
 Which mortal ear has never heard, 
 
 A tune which gushes from the heart 
 Like carols from a joyous bird. 
 
 A tune full fed from those rich streams 
 Of music that well gloriously 
 
 From Nature's founts, and fill the world 
 With rippling waves of melody. 
 
 When, rising in the eastern sky, 
 The morning blushes, rosy red, 
 
 The silver trumpets of the dawn 
 
 Blithe harmonies around them spread. 
 
 An anthem rich, of many tones, 
 Enchants the air of summer noon, 
 
 And with the wings of fancy lulls 
 The senses to a lang'rous swoon. 
 
 Sweet snatches of half-finished lays 
 The fading light of evening brings ; 
 
 The cattle low, and by the brook 
 The insect in its fashion sings. 
 145
 
 THE MAGIC TUNE 
 
 The streamlet, purling o'er the stones, 
 Chants hour by hour a soothing strain ; 
 
 The river hymns a grander note 
 While moving proudly to the main. 
 
 The forest has its choir unseen 
 
 Whose music charms the ancient trees, 
 
 And down its leafy alleys float 
 Half-born and mystic harmonies. 
 
 O subtle power that bathes the earth 
 In symphonies that come from far, 
 
 From regions that do lie beyond 
 The limits of the utmost star, 
 
 The surfs of thy enchanted sea 
 Upon the shores melodious roll 
 
 Of that mysterious land where dwell 
 The twilight fancies of the soul ! 
 
 In chains of metre thou art bound 
 To meet the wants of human ears, 
 
 But thy rich chords reverberate 
 
 Untrammelled through the starry spheies. 
 
 146
 
 THE CHURCH BELLS 
 
 PEAL on, O mellow-throated bells, with your sweet 
 
 chiming, 
 
 And let your voices mingle with the breeze, 
 With silver tongues from slumber deep beguiling 
 
 The Past and its rich throng of memories. 
 Through childhood's sunny hours your music stealing 
 
 Weaves many a gay and pleasant fantasy ; 
 It wanders o'er the chords of youthful feeling 
 
 And wakens hopes of glories that shall be. 
 Peal on, O bells, peal on, with fuller strain, 
 
 And summon back again 
 
 The days of old, when men indeed were young, 
 And through their hearts the voice of Honour rung, 
 
 To deeds of high emprise 
 And proud achievement loudly calling. 
 
 And oft with merry din 
 The bells aroused the tower of minster grey, 
 
 When some great Paladin, 
 The sunlight on his crested helmet falling, 
 A martial train their gallant chief escorting. 
 Left on his pious quest, 
 His valiant soul oppressed 
 For that the infidel, with evil pride, 
 Possessed the spot where Christ Himself had died 
 And all the land which thus was sanctified. 
 Deep in his ardent soul 
 Sank the bells' tumultuous roll, 
 147
 
 THE CHURCH BELLS 
 
 Throbbing, throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for the 
 strife. 
 
 In the passing of the years, 
 
 Flushed with human hopes and fears, 
 Lo ! the music of the bells enthrals man's life, 
 
 Till around his heart is thrown 
 
 All the glamour of their tone. 
 
 In the day when to his side 
 
 The young lover takes his bride, 
 
 And to each a world new-born 
 
 Opens through the golden morn ; 
 
 In the day of jubilee, 
 
 When in rapturous ecstasy, 
 
 All the nation surges free, 
 From the belfry streams melodious symphony ; 
 
 While on Sabbath morn and eve 
 
 Floating from each Christian fane 
 
 Comes the deep sonorous breve 
 
 Calling men to prayer again. 
 
 But, O impassioned bells, how gloriously your pealing 
 Falls on the patriot's ear and inmost feeling, 
 When from deep gloom and days of weary waiting 
 Your joyous clangour o'er the city reeling 
 Proclaims the foemen flying in full rout, 
 
 The day of victory ! 
 
 Chime on, chime on, O bells, in future years, 
 And echo still the nation's hopes and fears, 
 And raise our thoughts unto the starry spheres ! 
 
 148
 
 A GUITAR SONG 
 
 IN days of love and gladness, 
 
 Ere thought was tinged with sadness 
 
 We sang, in youthful madness, 
 
 Singing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 Our veins with vigour flushing, 
 Life's sparkling fount uprushing, 
 We sang with spirits gushing, 
 
 Singing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 Our mirthful voices blending, 
 To music's realms ascending, 
 We sang gay songs unending, 
 
 Singing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 And, moved by passion stealing 
 Through every inward feeling, 
 We danced, in mazes wheeling, 
 
 Dancing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 Like sunbeams shifting lightly, 
 
 Our feet, through measures sprightly, 
 
 Flitted here and there so brightly, 
 
 Dancing to the sweet guitar. 
 149
 
 A GUITAR SONG 
 
 Lightly tripping in and out, 
 Circling round and round about, 
 Gaily in a rhythmic rout, 
 
 Dancing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 Bright threads of fancy weaving, 
 Dear glances often gleaming, 
 Half wakened and half dreaming, 
 
 Dancing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 Time lay him down and slumbered, 
 While we, through hours unnumbered, 
 From all the world was sundered, 
 
 Dancing to the sweet guitar. 
 
 T50
 
 THE TREE 
 
 WHAT rises here from out the ground 
 
 Where dark it lay ? 
 A leaflet struggling without sound 
 
 Unto the day, 
 Unto the sun's creative heat, 
 
 Life-giving glow, 
 That makes the seed's cold pulses beat, 
 
 Its sap to flow. 
 
 The leaflet hides within its blade 
 
 A mystery ; 
 What woke the seed in torpor laid, 
 
 What Life may be, 
 If but the leaflet could reveal 
 
 In language plain 
 Glorious the knowledge that would peal 
 
 Throughout man's brain. 
 
 Fed by the ever-teeming earth, 
 
 Warmed by the sun, 
 The plant becomes a thing of worth 
 
 From darkness won ; 
 Upward aspires towards the sky 
 
 Its leading shoot, 
 The soil is probed most searchingly 
 
 By its slim root ;
 
 THE TREE 
 
 The great boughs spread afar and make 
 
 A blest retreat 
 When through the air the fierce rays break 
 
 With scorching heat, 
 The rustling of the leaves is heard 
 
 As by the breeze 
 The verdant foliage is stirred 
 
 Like summer seas. 
 
 It stands at length, in pride supreme, 
 
 A noble tree, 
 The gay birds lighten with their gleam 
 
 Its canopy, 
 Their carols ring when from his bed 
 
 The sun doth rise ; 
 Thus birds carolled when Adam wed 
 
 In Paradise. 
 
 All through the summer still it grows 
 
 Year after year, 
 Its ardent life knows not repose, 
 
 A rolling sphere ; 
 But when the autumn, with bare head, 
 
 And winter meet 
 The mantle of its leaves is spread 
 
 Across its feet. 
 
 The tree is linked with men and breathes 
 
 The selfsame air 
 That the revolving globe unwreathes 
 
 Like gossamer ; 
 152
 
 THE TREE 
 
 The clays and nights, the rain and dry, 
 
 The seasons' round, 
 The tree endures in peace, and by 
 
 Its zone is bound. 
 
 A million insects idly haunt 
 
 Its crannies small, 
 About its rugged trunk and gaunt 
 
 They creep and crawl ; 
 The tree's rich blood they suck with greed, 
 
 Its life inhale, 
 In mazy multitudes they breed 
 
 Countless as hail. 
 
 Close to the whirling globe it clings 
 
 As through vast space 
 The terrene like a seraph wings 
 
 An endless race ; 
 The murmurings of the souls that dwell 
 
 In regions rare 
 About the tree's dark bosses swell 
 
 When night lies bare. 
 
 The centuries pass, but proud and strong 
 
 The monarch reigns, 
 His presence clothed with ages long 
 
 In grandeur gains ; 
 He looks upon the sons of men, 
 
 Mortals of clay, 
 Whose years are few and fleeting soon 
 
 They glide away. 
 
 153
 
 THE COPPER BEECH 
 
 IN an old-fashioned garden a copper beech stood, 
 A tree so majestic ne'er grew in a wood, 
 Its boughs with their foliage spread proudly around, 
 Diffusing cool shadows o'er meadows of ground. 
 Many birds built their nests in the safest of nooks 
 Which they found, here and there, in its manifold 
 
 crooks ; 
 
 The zephyrs disporting made the leaves of the tree 
 Flit hither and thither, and dance merrily ; 
 But when fiercely grasped by the hand of the storm 
 It shook, but resisted, throughout its grand form. 
 
 Round the life of the tree many memories twined 
 And linked its own life with the life of mankind ; 
 Each year with its seasons knitted closer the wreath, 
 And the sap of the tree flowed more richly beneath. 
 The spring gave it vigour, and the winter made strong 
 The heart of the beech to bear every wrong. 
 
 In days of hot summers, 'midst the cool of its shade, 
 Young children, and old, through the mellow hours 
 
 played. 
 
 It watched their gay frolics, often melting in tears, 
 Their joys and their passions, and their quick-rising 
 
 fears. 
 
 154
 
 THE COPPER BEECH 
 
 Its leaves' pleasant rustling gave a charm to their play, 
 And the unheeded moments flowed swiftly away. 
 
 O days that are golden ! when our youth wears its 
 
 bloom, 
 
 And the child's callow fancies ripe beauty assume, 
 As the buds on the trees their green leaflets unfold, 
 When the spring is at hand, and its flag is unrolled. 
 O days evanescent ! yet the pleasures ye bring 
 Down the subsequent years in sweet echoings ring. 
 
 Queer letters and carvings made the trunk of the beech 
 
 A book with a story for those it could teach, 
 
 Strong youths and fair maidens their light fancies 
 
 expressed 
 
 In letters and emblems on the tree's rugged breast ; 
 And the birds overhead, in their wonderful way, 
 Chirruped, twittered, and warbled each with its own lay. 
 
 But the tree oft looked down on the low rustic seat 
 That was restfully placed by its knotty, strong feet, 
 Perceived the staid matron, who had turned life's mid 
 
 page, 
 
 In the ponderings of calm meditation engage. 
 When the summer's profusions grew scanty and sere, 
 And the rich hues of autumn began to appear, 
 Her ringers slow plying some delicate toil, 
 She mused on past pleasures, redeeming life's moil. 
 And the pharos of hope, with enlivening beam 
 Made the future with flashes of happiness gleam. 
 
 155
 
 THE COPPER BEECH 
 
 As the months and the seasons rolled by in long train, 
 
 There grew in this garden again and again 
 
 Verdant shrubs and gay flowers that bloomed each for 
 
 its day 
 
 Then gave up its life to the doom of decay. 
 But the copper beech stood, with its proud, shaggy 
 
 head, 
 The joy of the living, the shrine of the dead. 
 
 156
 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 O GARDEN mine ! thy trees and flowers, 
 
 Thy turfs and shady nooks of rest, 
 Are pledges of delightful hours, 
 
 The solace of a wearied breast ; 
 Thy charms are ever changing, and 
 
 They mirror in a fashion clear 
 The day and night's mutations, with 
 
 The passing seasons of the year. 
 
 Each flower is but a tender thought 
 
 Of plant or shrub on which it grows, 
 The buds, with secret beauty fraught, 
 
 By slow degrees, their charms disclose ; 
 The bee makes search for honied store 
 
 Wherewith to fill its golden comb, 
 And many an insect roams the floor 
 
 Of a resplendent, perfumed home. 
 
 Rich are thy shadows, garden mine ! 
 
 Rich are the lights that move and play 
 When sailing through the full sunshine 
 
 The cloudlets dim the face of day ; 
 157
 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 Thy moods are many, like the mind 
 Of man that mirrors outward things, 
 
 While he his devious course doth wind 
 Through life and its imaginings. 
 
 Sweet are the waking dreams we dream 
 
 When wandering in the pale moonlight, 
 Thy walks unto the vision seem 
 
 Strange vistas clothed in wan samite; 
 Kind thoughts of all whom we have known 
 
 Bid discord and disturbance cease, 
 And o'er the stormy world is thrown 
 
 The mantle of a generous peace. 
 
 Thy memories mingle, day by day, 
 
 The lives of many with thy own, 
 Like realm of fancy and of fay 
 
 Thy charms are quickened by a tone 
 Superior to our common needs, 
 
 Yet not entirely from them riven, 
 A spirit moving through the reeds, 
 
 Half-born on Earth, half-born in Heaven. 
 
 O garden mine ! when, 'neath the snows 
 
 Of winter lie thy treasures stored, 
 Unruffled is thy deep repose, 
 
 Whilst thou fresh-gathered strength doth hoard 
 Until the brook's full murmuring, 
 
 The blackbird's love-song in the morn, 
 Proclaim the advent of the Spring, 
 
 The coming of the summer's corn. 
 158
 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 O garden mine ! link thou thy chains 
 
 In pleasant wreaths about my heart, 
 Let their mild bondage soothe the pains 
 
 And ease awhile the bitter smart 
 Attendant on the rack and strife, 
 
 The struggle and the weary war, 
 That make the endless toil of life 
 
 And on our finer fancies jar. 
 
 '59
 
 THE ORCHARD 
 
 THE orchard hears the whispers of the Spring, 
 And by the warm caresses of the sun 
 Its sluggish soul to sudden ardour won 
 
 Quickens the trees to glorious burgeoning ; 
 
 Then little leaves unto the branches cling, 
 Till soon a silver mantle drapes the pear, 
 The apple blooms perfume the gracious air, 
 
 And birds unto their loves gay carols sing 
 
 Whose sweetest notes acclaim the early morn ; 
 Sometimes the breezes rustle through the boughs, 
 Snatching off blossoms in jocund carouse, 
 
 Or scatter sleet from winter's caverns borne; 
 The humid ground with fervid life is filled, 
 By worm and ant the orchard's soil is tilled. 
 
 Deep throbs the heart of summer as the fruit 
 Grows fuller day by day, and the plump peach 
 Mantles with blushes at the sun's hot speech, 
 
 While flames the plum clad in its purple suit, 
 
 And in the grove is heard the owl's weird hoot 
 
 When night's bright lamps hang from a velvet 
 
 sky, 
 And sigh the zephyrs most voluptuously ; 
 
 The glowworm burns beside the mossy root. 
 
 160
 
 THE ORCHARD 
 
 Dim unformed shades are seen amidst the trees 
 An idle band until the lingering moon 
 Shall show her peerless head a splendid boon 
 
 Coming from out th' empyreal mysteries. 
 
 The breath of Summer fans the slumbering Earth, 
 Thus fancies sweet and wondrous dreams have birth. 
 
 Autumn with stately mien approaches now 
 And ripens all the golden fruits that lie 
 Unplucked beneath their leafy canopy, 
 
 A glowing treasure, hung from many a bough. 
 
 The thick mists of the early morn endow 
 The orchard with a wealth of starry gems 
 That every leaf with crystal lustres hems ; 
 
 The firm, strong day looks on with burning brow, 
 
 But oft a shiver thrills the pensive eve, 
 Disturbed by chills of Winter that again 
 Is slowly coming o'er the frozen main 
 
 To brace the strong and make the feeble grieve. 
 Soon will the Earth have yielded all her store 
 And leaves, and flowers, and fruit be seen no more 
 
 at 161
 
 THE MEADOW 
 
 THE meadow was kissed by the sun and it flamed with 
 
 delight, 
 For the heart in its bosom was stirred by emotions 
 
 untold, 
 And the life that lay hidden gave forth its wealth to 
 
 man's sight, 
 
 Like a casket that yields up its treasures of gems and 
 of gold. 
 
 The blossoms were scattered profusely about the green 
 
 lea, 
 Their colours were rich, and the fragrance made 
 
 heavy the sensuous air 
 That was filled with the gratified hum of the well-laden 
 
 bee, 
 
 And the butterfly made the bright sunshine a radiance 
 rare. 
 
 Thus the meadow in garments of beauty was dressed 
 
 for a space, 
 Its sad days forgotten, the winter so mournful and 
 
 drear, 
 
 A smile like joy's self rippled over its glorified face, 
 A vision had sprung from the dark in the morn of the 
 year. 
 
 162
 
 THE fcBELLS OF THE PAST 
 
 Lo ! the bells of the Past in my ears 
 
 Sound their beautiful song ; 
 Their chimes ripple sweetly and break 
 
 Into harmonies strong ; 
 Their voices are rich with delight, 
 
 Commingled with tears ; 
 They ring out the changes that passed 
 
 O'er manifold years. 
 
 Through the strain of their musical clang 
 
 Leap the echoes of Fate, 
 That fashions the fortunes and lives 
 
 Of both lowly and great ; 
 Full oft its unwelcome decree 
 
 Shuts the door to Desire, 
 The dear, cherished hopes of our days 
 
 Casts adown in the mire. 
 
 Oh ! the bells of the Past are replete 
 
 With joys that are fled, 
 With the passion and frenzy that flushed 
 
 The youth that is dead ; 
 When the flowers that bathed in the dew 
 
 Wore colours more rare, 
 And a warmer and fuller sunshine 
 
 Made mellow the air. 
 163
 
 THE BELLS OF THE PAST 
 
 Through the caverns of mem'ry their tones 
 
 Wander softly, and wake 
 From their slumber the idols that reigned 
 
 The idols we make 
 O'er our hearts, where each ruled for a space, 
 
 For a year and a day ; 
 Then our fancy new altars bedecked, 
 
 And the old passed away. 
 
 In the hours of our thinking the bells 
 
 Sound their mystical chimes, 
 From Heaven their message is brought 
 
 In resonant rhymes ; 
 By the soul's loosened pinions upborne 
 
 We struggle to rise ; 
 On the untraversed ether we float 
 
 And clamber the skies. 
 
 Oh ! the bells of the Past ring a peal, 
 
 A carillon old, 
 Whose wavelets of music our hearts 
 
 With quiet enfold ; 
 In slumbers Elysian we sink, 
 
 Like the bird to its nest, 
 When the peace of the evening is laid 
 
 On the earth's weary breast. 
 
 164
 
 SPRING 
 
 How oft have we the rustling heard 
 
 That stirs through bush and tree 
 When Winter, passing to its rest, 
 
 Wails its last monody ! 
 The buds peep from their little cells 
 
 And eke the leaves unclose 
 Of tree, and shrub, and early bloom 
 
 Of violet and primrose. 
 
 The sunbeams fall with riches light, 
 
 And daily warmer grow, 
 The pulses of the woods beat fast, 
 
 Their veins with ardour glow ; 
 O'er field and hedge, o'er glade and lea, 
 
 The birds gay carols sing, 
 And fill the air with music sweet, 
 
 These voices of the Spring. 
 
 Each creature breathes a fresher air, 
 
 And feels a vigorous life 
 Renew the courses of its blood 
 
 Unto a healthful strife ; 
 165
 
 SPRING 
 
 And merry flash the silver gleams 
 From brook and waterfall, 
 
 Where Naiads, bearing rustic urns, 
 To one another call. 
 
 For once again the globe has rolled 
 
 About the vast inane, 
 And viewed the mansions of the Sun 
 
 In his untracked domain ; 
 On every side with glory clothed 
 
 Their fires flame fierce and far, 
 And pierce the darkness of the void, 
 
 And gild the utmost star. 
 
 And once again the Spring returns 
 
 With blithe and happy face ; 
 Green are her garments, and her form 
 
 Is flushed with youthful grace ; 
 Touched by her wand the flow'rets bloom, 
 
 And all the fields look gay, 
 The air is rife with murmurings 
 
 Throughout the balmy day. 
 
 O life of man ! whose tale of years 
 
 In quick succession told 
 Seems but a passing dream, gone by 
 
 Ere yet 'tis half unrolled. 
 Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter make 
 
 A transient, fleeting show, 
 Year after year, in changeless round, 
 
 The seasons come and go. 
 166
 
 SPRING 
 
 Yet though our Summer days be past, 
 
 And Autumn days be gone, 
 While Winter's chilly sun looks down 
 
 Upon a heart forlorn, 
 Still through the chambers of the soul 
 
 The words of promise ring, 
 That from the winter of our age 
 
 Shall rise a joyful Spring. 
 
 167
 
 FALLING LEAVES 
 
 LEAVES that fall 
 
 From the boughs 
 When the autumn breezes call, 
 
 Faded are ye 
 
 From your prime, 
 
 Gone your verdant 
 Beauty of the summer time. 
 
 Then ye fluttered 
 
 Gay and lightsome 
 As ye felt the zephyrs blow, 
 
 While the lover 
 
 To his mistress 
 Whispered on the grass below. 
 
 Birds their carols 
 
 Sweetly warbled, 
 Spirits of the viewless air, 
 
 Darting hither, 
 
 Flying thither, 
 Roaming lightly, here and there. 
 
 Insects humming, 
 
 Dully thrumming, 
 Murmuring their little tunes, 
 
 Tunes erratic, 
 
 Odd, ecstatic, 
 
 Mystical as Northern runes. 
 168
 
 FALLING LEAVES 
 
 Sunbeams fed ye, 
 
 Winds caressed ye, 
 And ye drank the golden light, 
 
 While the hedgerows 
 
 And the meadows 
 Were with summer raiment dight. 
 
 With strong pulses 
 
 And impulses 
 Drawn from out the throbbing earth 
 
 Rich your life was, 
 
 Full and sensuous, 
 Quivering with subtle mirth. 
 
 Now the sombre 
 
 Clouds assemble 
 On the wings of Autumn borne 
 
 From the regions 
 
 Where the tempests 
 Make the harried world forlorn. 
 
 And your hapless, 
 
 Withered, sapless 
 Forms are from the branches whirled, 
 
 Their souls being 
 
 Sadly fleeing 
 Ghostlike to another world. 
 
 169
 
 THE NEW ZEALAND SHEPHERD'S REVERIE 
 
 IN my cabin on the mountain side, 
 
 Where the sheep lie here and there, 
 And the screams of the kaka ride 
 
 On the cool, nocturnal air, 
 I muse by the wood-fed fire, 
 
 Whose red flames flicker and play, 
 And they waken a strange desire 
 
 For things that are far away. 
 
 For the cities of the grand old land 
 
 Outspread 'neath the Polar star, 
 Where the mansions and palaces stand, 
 
 And the stately promenades are ; 
 Where the multitudes pass in a throng, 
 
 All manner of human life, 
 Like a sea that rolls ever along, 
 
 A weird and wonderful strife. 
 
 For there, in the fields of human thought, 
 
 Grows the harvest of the mind, 
 The golden corn is with richness fraught, 
 
 Yet still 'tis with tares combined ; 
 170
 
 THE NEW ZEALAND SHEPHERD'S REVERIE 
 
 The hall may ring with the merry dance, 
 
 The corridor sound with glee, 
 But the bell oft tolls when death's swift lance 
 
 Strikes full at misery. 
 
 I long for the sound of Sabbath chimes, 
 
 For the abbey's pious hymn, 
 That fills the aisles with its glorious rhymes, 
 
 Like songs of seraphim ; 
 The windows limned by the men of old, 
 
 With many a tale of grace, 
 The carven tombs of warriors bold, 
 
 Who sleep in the sacred place. 
 
 I long to behold the ships sail past, 
 
 Their white sails bellying free, 
 While from their steep bows are hurled and cast 
 
 The foaming waves of the sea, 
 And the steadfast course the steamer takes, 
 
 Though the winds and tempest drive, 
 The roaring surge from its deck it shakes, 
 
 As if 'twere a thing alive. 
 
 And I would gaze on the armies pranked 
 
 In the pride and pomp of war, 
 Their guns and horses in order ranked 
 
 For the battle seen afar ; 
 Their bosoms beat with the hope of fame, 
 
 With the frenzy of the fight ; 
 They revel in front of the cannon's flame, 
 
 In a wild and fierce delight. 
 171
 
 THE NEW ZEALAND SHEPHERD'S REVERIE 
 
 But I wake from my musings again, 
 
 I open my cabin door, 
 Silence prevails through the starry main, 
 
 Silence on mountain and moor ; 
 The world has fled from my famished gaze, 
 
 Deep solitude is my lot, 
 Yet oft amid fancy's pleasant maze 
 
 My hermit life is forgot. 
 
 172
 
 EVENING MUSINGS 
 
 I LOVE the evening, when the shadows creep 
 And slowly lengthen o'er the grass-clad hill, 
 
 When winds are hushed, and to the ear there comes 
 The soothing murmurs of some little rill ; 
 
 Then pensive thoughts arise, and half-regrets, 
 With memories of things that might have been 
 
 If we had garnered fully of our days 
 
 And Fortune's smiles amid the clouds had seen ; 
 
 And reveries of past and happy hours 
 On whose delights we set but little store, 
 
 But now the fashion of their bloom becomes 
 A wealth of beauty not discerned before. 
 
 A single star looks down with radiance mild 
 As through Heaven's darkening canopy it peers, 
 
 The herald of a countless host whose eyes 
 
 Have watched the Earth through immemorial years. 
 
 They travel o'er the ether's pathless fields 
 
 That lead to regions of infinity, 
 Their courses and the phases of their orbs 
 
 Are interwoven with man's destiny. 
 173
 
 EVENING MUSINGS 
 
 Their fates we know not, as we know not ours, 
 And while they on majestic orbits roll 
 
 Impelled by some resistless power they move 
 Unceasingly towards a distant goal. 
 
 Could we but read the volume of the skies 
 And learn the secrets of its ancient lore, 
 
 We should grow rich with wisdom of the wise 
 And hear the echo of the wondrous roar 
 
 That burst from Chaos when the suns were made 
 And with their planets sought the mighty void, 
 
 While through the boundless spaces of the deep 
 The hosts of seething nebulae deployed. 
 
 These are but musings, yet vague questionings 
 Incessant surge within the restless brain ; 
 
 Creation's mystery we strive to pierce, 
 Yet still a mystery it doth remain. 
 
 The evening falls apace ; the daylight wanes, 
 
 And as the shades descend our thoughts are filled 
 
 With that mild sadness which is half a joy, 
 An essence from the heart's dead flowers distilled. 
 
 The moth on noiseless wing flits here and there, 
 And many an insect from its snug retreat 
 
 Comes forth to welcome with a gentle hum 
 The night approaching with reluctant feet. 
 
 The shades grow deeper, and as day departs 
 The varied ranks of men their dwellings seek ; 
 
 Some enter in the mansions of the great, 
 And some the humble cottage of the weak. 
 174
 
 EVENING MUSINGS 
 
 The hunter makes his camp beside the stream, 
 And rests awhile from danger or from toil, 
 
 He cooks the meal which his own hands have won, 
 And counts the trophies of his antlered spoil. 
 
 The last pale gleam of cheerful day is gone, 
 Night spreads its sombre mantle over all ; 
 
 And blessed sleep, from its enchanted urn, 
 An opiate on the weary mind lets fall. 
 
 175
 
 LITTLE THINGS 
 
 LITTLE islets sleeping 
 
 'Mid the purple sea, 
 Round their borders creeping 
 
 Waves lap dreamily. 
 Floats the seabird slowly 
 
 O'er the headland green, 
 Cloudlets drifting lowly 
 
 Here and there are seen. 
 
 Little stars that cluster 
 
 In the ebon sky, 
 Shining with calm lustre, 
 
 Shining cheerily ; 
 Lamps of Hope that glisten 
 
 Through the night profound, 
 When the ear doth listen 
 
 But discerns no sound. 
 
 Little waves that ripple 
 
 O'er the tropic sea, 
 When the zephyrs dimple 
 
 Ocean silently ; 
 Far beneath lie scattered 
 
 Bones of seamen brave 
 O'er the sea-floor battered, 
 
 Bones without a grave. 
 176
 
 LITTLE THINGS 
 
 Little sunbeams glancing 
 
 Through the forest dark, 
 Tinge with hues entrancing 
 
 Moss, and leaf, and bark ; 
 So gay fancies flutter 
 
 Through the hearts of men, 
 Make a little summer, 
 
 Then depart again. 
 
 Little insects darting 
 
 All the pleasant day, 
 Gauzy wings vibrating 
 
 In the sunlight gay, 
 O'er the meadows fragrant 
 
 Flaps the butterfly, 
 O'er the waters stagnant 
 
 Hawks the dragonfly. 
 
 Little birds that flutter 
 
 Through the rustling leaves, 
 Your sweet voices utter 
 
 Blithest melodies. 
 When the cold Earth blushes 
 
 'Neath morn's rosy light, 
 From each throat there gushes 
 
 Trills of gay delight. 
 
 Little baby, breathing 
 With thy breath so sweet, 
 
 Bright eyes mildly peeping 
 On the world they greet, 
 177
 
 LITTLE THINGS 
 
 Little thoughts and fancies 
 Stir thy petty brain, 
 
 Infantile romances 
 Come and go again. 
 
 Little world enchanting, 
 
 Child of ancient time, 
 Through the ether speeding 
 
 Robed in clouds sublime, 
 Bearing with thee proudly 
 
 Forces marvellous, 
 Yet an atom only 
 
 In the Universe. 
 
 178
 
 THE FLOWER GATHERER 
 
 LINGERING, lingering, 
 Sweetly lingering, 
 
 Long while ago we roamed adown the vale, 
 The ever-sunny vale, 
 The glowing tinted vale, 
 Of passioned Youth immersed in golden air, 
 While joyful bloom Hope's gayest flowerets there. 
 The dancing hours, 
 The jocund hours, 
 Come blithe along encrowned with myrtle leaves, 
 
 Encrowned with myrtle leaves. 
 And Psyche sweeps the harp with ringers fair, 
 The harp whose tones, 
 Whose trembling tones, 
 Come melancholy out the caves of thought, 
 
 The sad-voiced caves of thought, 
 Where recollections dim lie thickly stored. 
 Dear Idalie, 
 Sweet Idalie, 
 And I roamed down the many-scented vale ; 
 
 Dear Idalie 
 
 Of starlike eyes that sparkled 'neath the robe, 
 The undulating robe, 
 The glossy raven robe, 
 
 Of thick black hair that rippled like a stream 
 Adown two shoulders fair of polished ivory gleam, 
 179
 
 THE FLOWER GATHERER 
 
 Of pure reluctant face, 
 
 Of floating, dreamy face, 
 Where colours played like opal in the sun, 
 Or mountain snow when Night his work hath done. 
 
 Our light and misty feet, 
 
 Our gay, enchanted feet, 
 Greeted the flowers that bowed their courteous heads, 
 
 Their gay, bedecked heads, 
 
 Their dew-besprinkled heads, 
 For aye concealed behind an odorous mist. 
 
 Beneath a lilac blue, 
 
 That by a pure spring grew, 
 We sat us down and whispered like the bees, 
 
 The ever-roaming bees, 
 
 The calmly singing bees, 
 When loving 'midst the iris' mystic bowers. 
 
 Then Idalie far cast, 
 
 Her dazzling eyes far cast 
 Upon an old man gathering in the vale, 
 
 Far up the sunny vale, 
 The coloured flowers that drank the sunbeams there. 
 
 "Ah me ! " she sadly said, 
 
 And bowed her dreamy head, 
 
 Like poppies on their bed, 
 
 " Ah me ! Why comes the old man in this place, 
 This valley bright where reigneth love and grace, 
 Why comes he here to check the flowerets' bloom ? " 
 
 " Heed not, my love," replied 
 
 I, as she sadly sighed, 
 " Heed not the old man's plucking tender flowers. 
 
 'Tis but a fancy strange, 
 
 An idle fancy strange, 
 Like old Anacreon's wearing rosy crowns." 
 180
 
 THE FLOWER GATHERER 
 
 Our charmed lips then met, 
 Our blushing lips then met, 
 
 And straight we passed into Love's golden cloud 
 That every sense in wondrous mist doth shroud, 
 And Idalie, 
 Sweet Idalie, 
 Seemed but a flower whose drooping head hung down, 
 
 Whose drooping head hung down, 
 Like water lilies when they've told their love. 
 I gazed in ecstasy, 
 In rapturous ecstasy, 
 
 So rapturous that it froze my wishful tongue; 
 And while I speechless gazed 
 With flooding thoughts amazed, 
 A withered hand came grasping Idalie, 
 
 Poor Idalie, 
 And plucked my pretty flower ere I its fragrance breathed. 
 
 181
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 O BROTHER mine ! toil on a little longer, 
 
 The crown of toil shall come to you some day, 
 
 The clouds shall pass, the sun reveal its brightness, 
 And all the world assume an aspect gay. 
 
 For ever in our ears as we march onwards 
 The drums of life resound with their deep roll, 
 
 Sometimes with lively din they wake the welkin, 
 Sometimes with muffled tones they stir the soul. 
 
 The deserts spread afar their drear expanses, 
 The mountains lift their frozen heads on high, 
 
 Yet through the flowery mead and pleasant woodland 
 The sparkling rivulet flows merrily. 
 
 O sister mine, why fall your tears in sorrow ? 
 
 Why weep for that which brings a little pain ? 
 The pain will pass like night into the morning, 
 
 And joy and gladness shall come back again. 
 
 The darkest clouds are but a transient curtain 
 Which veils awhile the blue ethereal sky, 
 
 Whose beauties soon shall greet our charmed vision, 
 Its tender glories calm the troubled eye. 
 182
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 And ye who, by the lot of Fate remorseless, 
 Are made to toil in sombre ways alone, 
 
 Who deem your lives a bitter woe and burden, 
 And your sad destiny for aye bemoan, 
 
 Let your despondent hearts remain unshaken, 
 Unceasingly revolves Fate's restless wheel, 
 
 Upspring the lowly from their humble posture, 
 The proud from their exalted station reel. 
 
 The world stays not, but in a long mutation 
 All things upon its breast suffer a change, 
 
 Upon the gamut of mankind Time's fingers 
 In endless play and alternation range. 
 
 O brother mine ! grieve not for labours wasted, 
 O sister dear ! weep not for love o'erthrown ; 
 
 The fragments of a thousand human idols 
 Adown the path of life are thickly strown. 
 
 Believe not that Life's blossoms have departed 
 Because its bitter fruit has touched your tongue ; 
 
 Once more the tree shall bloom, and its sweet fragrance 
 O'er your rejuvenated hearts be flung. 
 
 183
 
 THE SIRENS 
 
 WITH rhythmic pulse the ocean rose and fell 
 
 Its soul responding to a whispered rune, 
 The stars were melting in a tender air, 
 
 And Venus glowed beside the crescent moon ; 
 The waves rolled freshly on a rugged shore 
 Where islets rising from the ocean's floor 
 Wild craggy peaks and spacious caves upbore. 
 
 Then blushed the sky at the sweet kiss of dawn, 
 
 And night evanished like a pleasant dream, 
 The morning breezes from the Orient blew 
 
 And made light ripples o'er the ocean stream ; 
 A raucous clamour from the seabirds rose 
 From rocky ledge and cave where, safe from foes, 
 They, through the summer night, had sought 
 repose. 
 
 A restless vigour hovered in the air, 
 
 The beating of an unseen angel's wings, 
 A messenger that bade the soul prepare 
 To raise its vision to sublimer things ; 
 Upon the land a mellow lustre fell, 
 A lustre gracious as the lights that well 
 From the seraphic face of Raphael. 
 184
 
 THE SIRENS 
 
 Slow to the ear a languid music crept, 
 
 It was not all of Earth, nor yet of Heaven, 
 A rapturous lullaby that charmed the sense, 
 
 And stirred the blood with an entrancing leaven. 
 Two voices mingled in the dulcet strain, 
 One clear and full, one murmuring like the main ; 
 Who lists them once must list to them again. 
 
 No mortal man who hears that wondrous song 
 
 The throbbings of his troubled heart can stay, 
 Its pinions flutter for a distant bower 
 And struggle for a region far away ; 
 
 Where pleasure laps and laps, but still the spring 
 That yields delight its buoyant breast doth fling 
 And bubbles up with joyous blustering. 
 
 And while the chanting of the voices sweet 
 
 Suffused the air with matchless ecstasy 
 A ship from out the azure welkin came 
 With drowsy sails that drew it sluggishly; 
 Its mariners were thinking of their wives 
 And children watching till the ship arrives, 
 And the fond pleasures of their wedded lives. 
 
 The sensuous melody with soft embrace 
 The sailors' rugged spirits did enfold, 
 Till deeper chords were touched ; a sudden tide 
 Replete with strange emotions through them rolled : 
 Wives, children, homes, from memory passed away, 
 Lost 'mid the strains of that seductive lay 
 Whose thrilling tones acclaimed the rising day. 
 185
 
 THE SIRENS 
 
 The dolphin arched its back, and wallowed deep, 
 
 A welcome pilot to the unseen choir ; 
 The vessel followed in the dolphin's wake 
 And to the islets drifted nigh and nigher ; 
 It answered not, nor yielded to its helm, 
 But glided slowly to the Sirens' realm, 
 Where song the throne of reason doth o'erwhelm. 
 
 No bark has ever yet within that whirl 
 
 And frenzied play of harmonies been drawn 
 And sailed again the sea, or shook the wave 
 From its deep sides when on the tempest borne, 
 Save that immortal galley which was sung 
 By Homer in the days when men were young, 
 And through the world Ulysses' fame had rung. 
 
 The vessel quivered, and its broken hull 
 
 In scattered fragments on the shore lay strown. 
 No more the ship shall ride the ocean wave 
 Or anchor where the hollow surges moan ; 
 The crew, enslaved on that enchanted isle, 
 Forgot their homes nor cared for freedom while 
 The Sirens' song their senses did beguile. 
 
 The ocean leaped and licked the rugged crags, 
 
 The seabirds mewed with melancholy cry, 
 The sun with blazing torch his course pursued 
 Across the concave of the summer sky ; 
 
 His beams fell full on many a heap of bones 
 That bleaching lay upon the rugged stones 
 Regardless of the Sirens' luscious tones. 
 1 86
 
 THE SIRENS 
 
 Their spirits once, upon the fateful Earth, 
 
 Awhile took on man's shape and destiny, 
 They lived and loved, rejoiced, and suffered woe, 
 Careless of what their future fate might be, 
 Now their grim skeletons upon the ground 
 In undistinguishable heaps were found ; 
 The sad sea wailed a requiem around. 
 
 For all who list the Sirens' song must pay 
 
 An ample guerdon for their joyous hours, 
 From glowing dreams of happiness and love 
 They sudden pass into Death's gloomy bowers, 
 Where sun, nor moon, nor stars, nor light are seen, 
 Nor e'er a single blade of living green, 
 Where morn and eve are not, nor day between. 
 
 187
 
 IDUNA 
 
 FAIR-HAIRED Iduna sat, in robes of sheen, 
 Upon a mossy throne, in forest green, 
 Where northern sunlight makes a Norseman's day 
 And northern moonbeams through pine foliage stray. 
 Her face serene a noble soul expressed 
 By lofty thoughts and sentiments caressed, 
 Yet lurking low beneath her eye's soft lid 
 A woman's love and tenderness lay hid. 
 Beside her feet a wondrous casket stood 
 Fashioned in strange design of Eastern wood, 
 Rich wreaths of gold its ebon panels bound 
 While carven figures made procession round 
 About its cincture, which an Indian graved, 
 Plying his art beneath the banyan's shade. 
 Nor were the treasures which it held unfit 
 In such a rich receptacle to sit ; 
 Profusely heaped the casket inly bore 
 Apples of perfect shape and size galore 
 Smooth yellow skins, with just a tinge of red, 
 That lay reposing on a leafy bed, 
 Such apples as were gathered from the trees 
 That grew in soil of the Hesperides, 
 When oft the gods took pleasure on the Earth 
 And oft spoke love to maids of human birth. 
 This precious fruit exhaled a fragrant scent 
 That to the frame a lusty vigour lent, 
 
 188
 
 IDUNA 
 
 A juice profuse like purest nectar flowed 
 
 When tooth or knife incised the yielding globe ; 
 
 And he who ate this fruit forthwith became 
 
 Endowed with ardour like a glowing flame, 
 
 A fuller life looked from the brightened eyes 
 
 And vigour flushed the tired faculties. 
 
 The deities who dwell with mighty Thor 
 
 And share the splendours of the god of war 
 
 Yet weary grow, and feel their strength abate, 
 
 Through constant effort in the strenuous state, 
 
 Oft sought Iduna, and the fruit that she 
 
 Dispensed with generous hospitality, 
 
 So that, with th' ecstatic juice inspired, 
 
 Their frames might be with ardent vigour fired, 
 
 Their youth renewed, their spirits flushed and 
 
 strong, 
 
 Might bear them onward through the ages long. 
 These visitors divine had each his own 
 Illustrious bearing, and 'twas his alone ; 
 The eyes of some were like the opal sea 
 When in the sun it welters peacefully ; 
 And some had brows like to the thunder cloud 
 Before the lightning issues from its shroud ; 
 Some wore the visage of the seraph mild, 
 Man's wisdom blent with frankness of the child; 
 Of some the voices were as pleasant rills 
 Trickling adown the slopes of sunny hills. 
 Such are the forms the gods assume when they, 
 Descending from the regions far away, 
 Awhile dwell on the daedal globe and make 
 Its sombre mountains and dark forests take 
 A transient beauty from the trailing foam 
 Of glory coming from the gods' bright home. 
 
 189
 
 IDUNA 
 
 But these are not the presences that grace 
 Valhalla's halls where Odin's throne has place, 
 \Yhose shapes would be unseen by mortal eye 
 Could it to these ethereal regions spy 
 The essences of beings uncreate 
 Unlike in form to creatures incarnate. 
 Iduna, ne'er refusing, gave to each 
 Proud god who asked her in celestial speech 
 One apple one alone sufficed to fill 
 The veins with virtue, safe from Nifihel ; 
 Nor by her bounty lessened was the store 
 Of wondrous fruit the ebon casket bore, 
 For, lo ! replenished from some secret tree, 
 Whose sap is flushed with life most copiously, 
 The casket held the same, nor more, nor less, 
 Whate'er might be Iduna's lavishness, 
 Iduna's self could change not nor abate 
 The portion given by the hand of Fate. 
 
 190
 
 DELPHI 
 
 WHEN the Delphic priestess, fired 
 By revealings strange inspired, 
 Felt an occult knowledge break 
 In her trembling soul, and shake 
 With the breathings of its flame 
 Every fibre of her frame, 
 Then with voice prophetic she 
 Spoke winged words of destiny 
 
 From the sacred tripod throne 
 Uttered lore of things unknown, 
 Counselled rulers of the State, 
 Told the stern decrees of Fate, 
 Dark her sayings oft, and dim, 
 Perplexing the heart of him 
 Who, pursuing fortune's maze, 
 Sought to learn its devious ways. 
 
 Thus the gods communed with men 
 In the far-off ages when 
 The weird rustling of the oak 
 In Dodona's forests spoke 
 Words of portent to the seer, 
 Whispering to his inward ear 
 What the fateful web would be 
 Woven by the Sisters Three. 
 191
 
 DELPHI 
 
 But these oracles are mute, 
 Silent as a broken lute, 
 Hill and grove no more are trod 
 By the feet of wandering god ; 
 Never comes a word or sign 
 Or from cavern, or from shrine, 
 Giving counsel or relief 
 To the seeker in his grief. 
 
 Yet the Earth still throbs with life, 
 And the forests still are rife 
 With murmurings vague and dree, 
 Breathings of divinity ; 
 And the mountains, rising high, 
 Mingle with the sacred sky ; 
 And the swiftly rolling stream 
 Passes like a troubled dream. 
 
 For this globe is as of yore, 
 Clothed about with hidden lore, 
 In its heart it doth rehearse 
 Secrets of the Universe ; 
 Man alone hath suffered change, 
 For his fretful mind doth range 
 Here and there, on ceaseless quest, 
 Seeking where it may be blest. 
 
 Lo ! the knowledge which he gains 
 Is replete with many pains ; 
 While the faith has now grown dim 
 That beheld the seraphim ; 
 192
 
 DELPHI 
 
 And the heroes that were born 
 In Creation's early dawn, 
 These he deems but fancies vain, 
 Phantoms of the seething brain. 
 
 Yet shall come again to men, 
 Sudden rushing to their ken, 
 Light and power of wondrous things 
 Borne from Heaven on mighty wings ; 
 And the mists of doubt shall roll 
 From man's clear, enlightened soul, 
 Till he sees the world with eyes 
 Lit with wisdom of the wise. 
 
 193
 
 A STORY OF CRACOW* 
 
 IN Cracow's ancient city 
 
 From many a steeple tolled 
 A chime of rue and pity 
 
 That through the spring air rolled ; 
 With folk the streets were surging 
 
 All clothed in garb antique, 
 A common impulse urging 
 
 The city's square to seek ; 
 The day was bright and glorious, 
 
 A day to make men glad, 
 But voices spoke dolorous, 
 
 And every face looked sad. 
 What deed had bred this mournful mood 
 And stirred the thronging multitude ? 
 
 There came with the port of a warrior bold 
 A youth whose attire was enriched with gold, 
 Though his heart was sore his mien was proud, 
 And he heeded not the sorrowing crowd. 
 A murmur rose like the voice of the breeze 
 When it lightly sweeps through the leaf-clad trees 
 As he passed on his way to the place where stood 
 The headsman dread, with his sombre hood : 
 For the sin that he sinned they deemed no crime, 
 But the gallant deed of a soul sublime. 
 
 * From Sienkiewicz's " Knights of the Cross." 
 194
 
 He challenged the foe to his country's weal 
 To a fight to the death with the deadly steel, 
 But, alas for his zeal, the foeman came 
 With the sacred shield of an envoy's name, 
 Though his rank was hid from the youth when he 
 Sought to fight with the foe in chivalry. 
 The Knight of the Cross was on vengeance bent, 
 And he claimed from the king to whom he was sent 
 That the youth should pay with the price of his life 
 For the challenge he gave to mortal strife. 
 The monarch was just, and he spake the word, 
 Though his heart with rue for the youth was stirred. 
 
 With their crossbows strung marched the archer guard 
 
 And kept close ranked by the side of their ward, 
 
 For the people's wrath grew ever more loud 
 
 And a fell fire shone in the eyes of the crowd. 
 
 On Zbysso's right was the bishop who bore 
 
 The symbol of Christ whom men adore, 
 
 On his left was a clerk in vesture dun 
 
 Who carried the writ of doom to be done. 
 
 At length they came to the city's great square 
 
 And a scaffold frowned in its grimness there, 
 
 Then a shudder passed through the youth's tall frame, 
 
 But his courage glowed with a warmer flame, 
 
 Though he felt 'twas hard while so young to die 
 
 On a blithe spring morn, 'neath a sunny sky. 
 
 But, lo ! who is there by the place of doom, 
 Like a silver star that pierces the gloom ? 
 'Tis a maiden clad in a robe of white, 
 A long veil concealing her face from sight, 
 
 195
 
 A STORY OF CRACOW 
 
 Her hair is bedecked with a wreath of rue 
 
 Her wealth of hair, of a golden hue. 
 
 The Pan of Taczow by the maiden stands, 
 
 A knight whose fame rolls through many lands; 
 
 Tis few with him can in strength compare, 
 
 Fewer still would the storm of his anger dare ; 
 
 Complete is his knowledge of customs old 
 
 By the people cherished like precious gold. 
 
 The youth on the maid looked with brightening eye, 
 
 But deemed she came only to see him die. 
 
 Though maiden and youth had not plighted troth, 
 
 Yet Love's silent tokens were known to both. 
 
 To clasp her he sought, but backward she stepped 
 
 While sorrow and love into her eyes leapt. 
 
 " He is mine ! mine ! " loudly Danusia said, 
 
 And cast her long veil upon his proud head. 
 
 The deed was thus done, but a few moments passed 
 
 Ere the people its purport and meaning grasped, 
 
 Then rose a wild cry from the joyful crowd. 
 
 " He is hers ! he is hers ! " were the plaudits loud. 
 
 The city was filled with the glad refrain, 
 
 It swelled in wild raptures again and again, 
 
 For a custom of Poland was law that forbade 
 
 The death of a man if haply some maid 
 
 At the steps of the scaffold would claim him to wed, 
 
 Thus should he be saved from punishment dread. 
 
 Yet doubtful it seemed if this gallant youth 
 Could liberty gain by Danusia's ruth; 
 The law must be read by the stern-faced man, 
 The city keys' guardian, the castellan. 
 So to the old fort in procession there went 
 The archers with crossbows in hand and unbent 
 196
 
 A STORY OF CRACOW 
 
 The maiden walked slow by the young man's side, 
 
 The people flowed on like a human tide, 
 
 A din and a buzz filled the sunny air, 
 
 And pleasure was reigning everywhere. 
 
 The castle was reached, and the Pan was told 
 
 How appeal had been made to custom old, 
 
 And the knight was asked forthwith to decree 
 
 That Zbysso was purged of his guilt and free. 
 
 Grave looked the proud knight, and he said such law 
 
 For peasants was made, but 'natheless he saw 
 
 Good reason why scope of its happy grace 
 
 Should be made complete so it might embrace 
 
 The noble likewise ; for all men are one, 
 
 All cherish sweet life and death's portal shun. 
 
 Danusia he blessed and the noble youth 
 
 Whose life she had saved by her tender ruth. 
 
 197
 
 HYPATIA 
 
 THE gods my fathers worshipped shall be mine, 
 My knee shall never bow before the shrine 
 Of some strange deity, who dwells in spheres 
 Remote from human passions, hopes, and fears, 
 But mighty Jove, whose thunder shakes the skies, 
 And Juno proud, Minerva calm and wise, 
 Apollo radiant with divinity, 
 Love's raptures flowing from Aphrodite ; 
 To these immortals, and their peers who dwell 
 In the celestial fields of asphodel, 
 My reverence is due ; for though they reign 
 O'er realms to which no mortal can attain, 
 Free from the sufferings that afflict our days, 
 And moving perfect in their various ways, 
 Yet they look down on men with kindly eyes, 
 And with our many frailties sympathise. 
 They render aid, nor ask exchange or price, 
 To those who vows fulfil, and offer sacrifice ; 
 And sometimes, too, the gods have walked the Earth, 
 Revealed themselves to us of mortal birth, 
 A splendid radiance made their presence known, 
 Some gleamings brought from Jove's illustrious throne, 
 And they have wooed of men the daughters fair, 
 Besought their love, and gave caresses rare. 
 198
 
 HYPATIA 
 
 Thus spake Hypatia, born amid the wrack 
 Of ancient faiths, nigh dead yet living still, 
 When men believed no more their time-worn gods, 
 And yet half feared them, while on the horizon, 
 Dense with their doubts and fears, uprose the gleam 
 Of the pure Christian morn. 
 
 What cold and bloodless God is this whom we 
 Are told is Lord of Heaven, and Earth, and Sea ; 
 Who reigns alone, in changeless solitude, 
 Where angel nor archangel dare intrude ? 
 For him the years are not, nor sun, nor moon, 
 Nor space, nor shape, nor late, nor soon ; 
 Fate hath no power o'er His divinity, 
 He sits sublime amid infinity, 
 What recks He of the petty woes that make 
 Man's life a toilsome pilgrimage and break 
 His noble spirit with the ceaseless fret 
 And moil of cares that he would fain forget, 
 So that his soul, upborne on buoyant wings, 
 Might rise to heights of fine imaginings ? 
 
 From Palestine there comes a story wild 
 How from a birth obscure a wondrous Child 
 Replete with wisdom, full of eloquence, 
 With heart o'erflowing with benevolence, 
 Led thousands captive by the words that fell 
 From His warm lips, and oft some miracle 
 Attested that His life derived its breath 
 From regions where no being yields to death : 
 And yet He died ; upon a cross of shame 
 By torments racked and torn His quivering frame 
 Gave up the ghost ; He seemed but one of three 
 Despised men who died on Calvary. 
 199
 
 HYPATIA 
 
 But, lo ! to light the tomb its tenant gave 
 
 His mighty spirit issuing from the grave, 
 
 Clad in the form it wore when doomed to die 
 
 Uprose to Heaven in glorious majesty, 
 
 For God Himself, they say, assumed this guise 
 
 Descending basely from the upper skies. 
 
 By such mad fables common folk are taught 
 
 The vile alone are worthy a God's thought, 
 
 The world and all its pleasures are but sin, 
 
 To be contemned by those who Heaven would win. 
 
 Such fictions humour those who lack the sense 
 
 To view the world in its magnificence, 
 
 The pomp of man, the strifes of chiefs and kings, 
 
 While Nature beats her rich, ambrosial wings ; 
 
 Be mine the gods who bid us live and love, 
 
 Forgive our failings, and whose passions move, 
 
 Who weave a golden thread through our dark years, 
 
 And ever mingle hope with saddest tears. 
 
 200
 
 THE MONK 
 
 A SOLILOQUY 
 
 ONCE more the fervent sun, descending low, 
 
 Has crossed the arch of heaven, its day's work done ; 
 
 Profusely scattered have its blessings been 
 
 And manifold ; the sap in plant and tree 
 
 Has flowed more quickly ; the bursting flower 
 
 Unclosed and brightened into perfect bloom, 
 
 Its scent perfuming all the languid air ; 
 
 Each animated thing, from the poor worm 
 
 That revels in the warm and pleasant soil 
 
 To man himself, the prince and lord of all, 
 
 Has felt that life has joys as well as pains ; 
 
 Its golden beams have bathed the rich man's home 
 
 Replete with costly pomp and luxury, 
 
 And lit the foetid dwellings of the poor; 
 
 The world has been the better, and the orb 
 
 Diffused a flood of gladness o'er the land. 
 
 Soon will the vesper bell clang loud and shrill, 
 And then with solemn step and reverent gait 
 I and my fellow hermits will again, 
 As we have done a thousand times before, 
 Repeat with jaded minds the well-known prayers, 
 And offer weary worship unto God, 
 But none can pride him on a useful day 
 Or fellow man made happier by his aid. 
 201
 
 THE MONK 
 
 When first my soul was filled with strong desire 
 
 To yield its every fibre unto God, 
 
 And live a chaste, pure life, devoid of care 
 
 For mundane things and sordid, that make dim 
 
 The inward sight, whereby we can discern 
 
 The slopes that lead up to infinity, 
 
 I deemed that, once within these sacred walls, 
 
 By fasting, prayer, and holy rites profound, 
 
 By meditation and long silences, 
 
 My soul at length would reach a nobler plane 
 
 And learn the wisdom of celestial lore. 
 
 But with the passing years the pious glow 
 
 Has waned and waned until it warms no more, 
 
 And in its stead the hand of apathy 
 
 Rests on my callous breast. The dull monotony, 
 
 The daily changeless round of rites and prayer, 
 
 The petty faults foreshadowing penances, 
 
 The listless hours, the drear seclusion from 
 
 The strenuous life by homely mankind led, 
 
 Have numbed the faculties that bore me on 
 
 The wings of inspiration. 
 
 Yet sometimes, in the calm and starry night 
 When I in raptured contemplation plunge 
 My inmost being, I am upward borne 
 Unto the portals of the Infinite; 
 There I inhale the perfect air that feeds 
 The glorious seraphim and cherubim, 
 Attendants in the presence of my God. 
 The world is gone ; forgotten, like a dream 
 That flies our memory at the risen da}', 
 And for a few short hours I seem to drink 
 Sweet draughts of joys celestial that may be 
 202
 
 THE MONK 
 
 Mine in rich flood for all eternity, 
 
 If I but in this life dispart myself 
 
 From all that men most love and most desire. 
 
 But man is prone to err, and it may be 
 
 That Heaven's most cherished blessings are not given 
 
 To hermit lone or pallid anchorite ; 
 
 Perchance the stress of battle must be borne, 
 
 The many ills and pains of human life, 
 
 The strivings with temptation, and that we 
 
 Must feel the throb of human hopes and fears, 
 
 Before the soul, emerging from its clay, 
 
 Can gain its fullest power. 
 
 The vesper bell is tolling, and its voice 
 
 Bids me attend my evening orisons, 
 
 It calls me back to Earth and doctrines true. 
 
 What thoughts unrighteous have besmirched my soul 
 
 And caused the phantom of a doubt to rise ? 
 
 My faith is shivering on the brink that hangs 
 
 Over the deep abyss of unbelief ; 
 
 Unfaithful to the Church have I become, 
 
 Though but a moment, still apostate I, 
 
 For this strange sin some penance must atone. 
 
 203
 
 OMDURMAN 
 
 THE war drums beating loud and strong, 
 The bugles sounding clear and long, 
 
 Aroused the host which lay beside 
 The mighty Nilus' ancient tide, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Each man had held the night in scorn 
 And lusted for the lingering morn, 
 
 In hope that he might then descry 
 The standards of the enemy, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Briton and fellah, Soudanese, 
 
 Mustering in ranks and squadrons these, 
 Avengers all for Gordon died, 
 
 His blood diffused its crimson tide, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 The lurid sun, with aspect dire, 
 
 Hung like a fateful ball of fire, 
 The portent of a day of doom 
 For Khalifa and old Khartoum, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 204
 
 OMDURMAN 
 
 In battle order grimly set, 
 
 Gleamed rifle and keen bayonet, 
 From horseman's lance and sabre bright 
 
 Resplendent shone the ruddy light, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Far off the Dervish army spread 
 A line of warriors, fierce and dread, 
 
 Advancing from their desert home, 
 A raging sea of human foam, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Wild valour all their legions thrilled, 
 The Mahdi's faith their bosoms filled, 
 
 Fanatic dreams their souls inspired, 
 With hopes of Heaven their ranks were fired, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Into a tempest, bearing death, 
 
 They rushed, and drank its lethal breath, 
 A storm of iron and of lead 
 
 That from the British ranks had sped, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Fierce volleys from the rifles broke, 
 The loud artillery, veiled in smoke, 
 
 Impelled its missiles from afar, 
 The engines dread of modern war, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Boldfcharging at the Dervish host, 
 
 The Lancers seemed an instant lost, 
 Yet, though the battle wildly surged, 
 They victors from the strife emerged, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 205
 
 OMDURMAN 
 
 Undaunted stood the fellaheen, 
 
 Nor shunned the foemen's onset keen, 
 
 The thralls of sunless ages claim 
 The warrior's title and his fame, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 Nor recked the Mahdi's host of death, 
 Nor feared the cannon's fiery breath ; 
 
 Their legions sought the glorious fray, 
 And melted like a dream away, 
 Near Omdurman. 
 
 O souls heroic, who have fled 
 Unto the regions of the dead, 
 
 For right cause fighting, or for wrong, 
 Your valour claims a place in song 
 For Omdurman. 
 
 206
 
 THE CITY 
 
 To him whose mind with restless fervour plays 
 
 The city breathes enchantment. Streams of life 
 Flow ceaselessly along the spacious ways 
 
 Where throbs, and throbs, the pulse of civic strife. 
 A changing picture is the multitude, 
 
 A fleeting panorama of the gay, 
 The sad, the proud, the meek, the bad, the good, 
 
 The rich, the poor, all mingling as they may. 
 The splendid motor-car goes flaming by, 
 
 The lowly barrow, bearing rustic gains, 
 And many a vehicle attracts the eye, 
 
 The smart barouche, the sluggish-rolling wains ; 
 Deep is the hum that fills the busy air, 
 A tide of men, and movement everywhere. 
 
 II 
 
 Oft has the youth, by London's charms beguiled, 
 
 Sought fame and fortune in the wondrous town, 
 His full heart palpitating with a wild 
 
 Tumultuous expectation, beating down 
 The quiet voice of prudence, whispering low. 
 
 Splendid the vision while the glamour lasts, 
 With sudden fire his aspirations glow 
 
 As on the stirring scene his glance he casts ; 
 207
 
 THE CITY 
 
 But comes a day when solitude itself 
 
 Seems populous to that most dreary waste 
 Of careless faces, carven as on delf, 
 
 Like some procession from a far-off place ; 
 So march the waves upon the ocean main, 
 Wave passes wave, and ne'er is seen again. 
 
 in 
 
 From the great city rises for ever 
 
 Wails from the suffering, wails of distress, 
 Sighs that are born of an idle endeavour 
 
 To wrest from life's turmoil a brief happiness ; 
 Offspring begot of the slough and the slime, 
 
 Breathing the mists of a foul degradation, 
 Bred by ill fortune to manifold crime, 
 
 Sapping the virtue and strength of the nation. 
 Fierce is the hum that reveals the emotion 
 
 Shaking the depths of the dark human tide, 
 So heaves and falls the breast of the ocean 
 
 Ere hurricanes over its billows ride. 
 When shall Heaven smile upon a city fair 
 Where every man can breathe a pleasant air ? 
 
 IV 
 
 The city is a hearth where thought fires thought 
 
 And mind communes with mind ; ideas awake, 
 Then o'er the world a wondrous change is wrought, 
 
 And with impulses new the nations shake ; 
 Old idols fall, and fresh beliefs like rain 
 
 Bedew men's hearts, and lo ! the seeds 
 Of ampler being that have dormant lain 
 
 Grow up and satisfy their higher needs. 
 208
 
 THE CITY 
 
 Sometimes emerges from the city's fen 
 
 A noble soul, that like a splendid star 
 Illumes the weary path of weary men 
 
 And shows the regions where the seraphs are ; 
 Forth from the city flames the torrid word 
 And by its might the torpid globe is stirred. 
 
 The stately city breathes magnificence 
 
 With square, and mansion, lofty monument, 
 The columned hall, and many a dome immense, 
 
 Proud architecture's rich embodiment ; 
 Tall spires and towers ascend from ancient fanes 
 
 Where carven roof looks on a footworn floor, 
 The sun illumes the many-coloured panes 
 
 That keep the memory of brave men of yore ; 
 Tis here that Art unfolds her glorious wing 
 
 And all the beauties of her form displays, 
 Here flourish graces manifold that spring 
 
 From vanity and keen desire for praise ; 
 Majestic is the city, and its brain 
 Is ever toiling, like the restless main. 
 
 VI 
 
 Night falls upon the city ; but the hush 
 
 And quietude that sits upon the country-side 
 When day is over, and the sun's red flush 
 
 Yields to the silver of the moon's calm tide, 
 Prevails not here ; but the fierce heat 
 
 And eager din of commerce die away ; 
 More slowly do the city's pulses beat, 
 
 As mod'rate winds succeed the storm's wild fray, 
 
 p 209
 
 THE CITY 
 
 With artificial light the highways gleam, 
 
 O'er many a mile the lucid shafts are sent ; 
 The people pass, a broken, scattered stream, 
 Some toiling still, but more on pleasure bent. 
 The dragon sleeps ; the stars begem the sky 
 That hides the bosom of Eternity. 
 
 210
 
 GOLD 
 
 GOLD ! gold ! gold ! gold ! 
 
 Lure of the woman, lure of the man, 
 If the full-measured tale of thy deeds were told 
 
 Like a pennant 'twould be 
 
 The eye could scarce scan, 
 From planet to planet in length unrolled. 
 
 Palace of Eblis, built of ore 
 
 Won by remorseless toil, 
 Golden each chamber, golden each door, 
 
 While the sinister flames 
 
 In a mad turmoil 
 Gleam on golden roof and on golden floor. 
 
 Lurid with fire of passions aglow, 
 
 Fed by the lust of gold, 
 Through the halls of the palace ceaseless flow 
 
 The souls that in life 
 
 To Mammon were sold, 
 Like unhallowed flocks they roam to and fro. 
 
 Sad-featured maidens, hapless brides, 
 
 To thy garish altar led, 
 Fettered with links that love derides, 
 
 To thy service bound 
 
 And a loveless bed, 
 O'er their wasted lives a shadow abides. 
 
 211
 
 GOLD 
 
 Filled with thy frenzy, flushed with hope 
 
 To grasp a great meed of gold, 
 In the depths of the mountains the miners grope, 
 
 'Mid the red sun's heat 
 
 And the frost king's cold 
 They wrench the bright ore from its stony cope. 
 
 Mansions and cities built with gold 
 
 Sitting in golden air, 
 Keen-eyed the men their places hold, 
 
 Watchful they gaze, 
 
 Each one from his lair, 
 Seeking to double his store of gold. 
 
 Clashing of brain, clashing of wit, 
 
 From the storm and stress arise 
 Vapours whose wreaths o'er the pure earth flit 
 
 Like fogs from the marsh 
 
 That hide the blue skies 
 While the soul to the mire and the slime is knit. 
 
 Beacon that beckons, ruddy hand 
 
 That guides unto deeds of blood, 
 The covetous soul to murder is fanned 
 
 When the lust of gold 
 
 Like a burning flood 
 Fills the brain till the scheme of the crime is planned, 
 
 And he goes on the terrible path 
 
 That is lit by thy flame, 
 Nor dreams of the coming of wrath 
 
 When the ghosts shall rise 
 
 And the winds proclaim 
 
 The vengeance that follows as sin's aftermath. 
 212
 
 GOLD 
 
 Slave is poor man to thy cruel arm, 
 
 Toiling at thy behest, 
 Yet givest thou him full many a charm, 
 
 A rich glowing life 
 
 In luxury dressed, 
 Flushed with warm sun like the soul of the palm. 
 
 313
 
 THE FIRE 
 
 THE fire burns bright ; it glows and flames, 
 
 Upshoot the yellow spires ; 
 They leap and leap, with merry fling, 
 
 Like gratified desires ; 
 The smoke ascends the chimney tall 
 
 In black and gloomy whirls, 
 Till, resting on the cold night air, 
 
 It floats in many swirls. 
 
 How cheerful gleams the merry blaze ! 
 
 It warms the laggard blood, 
 While through the veins the crimson stream 
 
 Sweeps in a faster flood ; 
 The mind is wrapped in sweet content, 
 
 And pleasant visions rise 
 Of joyousness in days to come 
 
 And happy memories. 
 
 Amid the burning embers red 
 
 The splendid castles glow, 
 Turret, and keep, and barbican, 
 
 As in the long ago, 
 214
 
 THE FIRE 
 
 The knights live still ; their armour gleams, 
 
 To each his squire and page, 
 They seek the joust and tournament 
 
 With glittering equipage. 
 
 The vision fades ; and in its place 
 
 Another view succeeds : 
 Two armies ranged in hostile camps, 
 
 Brave men, with many steeds ; 
 No armour wear they, nor is seen 
 
 Gay pomp or panoply, 
 But weapons dire, and soldier's garb 
 
 Of strict simplicity. 
 
 Amid the shadows of the night 
 
 Their watch-fires brightly gleam, 
 Thickly bestrewn o'er hill and dale 
 
 Like countless stars they seem ; 
 Around the brands the soldiers lie 
 
 And snatch a brief repose 
 Before the bugle call shall bid 
 
 Them fall upon their foes. 
 
 The fire burns bright ; the ruddy coals 
 
 Diffuse a grateful heat, 
 Upon the fender, at their ease, 
 
 Rest many slippered feet, 
 Gay converse flows, the jest goes round, 
 
 Thought hearkens unto thought, 
 The mirthful evening swiftly flies 
 
 With happiness full fraught. 
 215
 
 THE FIRE 
 
 How cheery is the glowing fire 
 
 That warms the home and hearth, 
 And makes the thorny way of life 
 
 One hour a pleasant path ! 
 Sometimes by its soft influence stirred 
 
 Dreams upon dreams arise, 
 And nourished by the mind they grow 
 
 Into realities. 
 
 216
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 
 
 BOLD Ponce de Leon, old with toil and care, 
 
 Sought vainly, sailing o'er the Spanish main, 
 For those blessed isles where springs a fountain rare 
 
 Whose flashing waters brought back youth again 
 To him whose frame, by rheumy age impaired, 
 
 Refused to give the strength that once made light 
 Of arduous labour, and great peril dared 
 
 Because in dangerous ways it took delight. 
 Long voyaged he o'er bright and sunny seas, 
 
 Viewed many a happy island in his quest, 
 He heard the fountain plashing in the breeze 
 
 And saw its radiance gleaming in the west, 
 Yet never rested foot upon the shore 
 Where time stands still, and youth reigns evermore. 
 
 II 
 
 Whence come these visions that awake desire 
 
 And stir the current of the sluggish blood, 
 Kindle imagination's sacred fire, 
 
 Arouse emotion's overwhelming flood ? 
 The fond belief that by some waters won 
 
 From springs that bubble in lands far away 
 We may escape the doom of darkness dun 
 
 The common lot that trammels human clay ; 
 217
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 
 
 Or gleams of golden towers in that fair town 
 That once on El Dorado's uplands rose 
 
 With gold and jewels glittering like a crown, 
 Where pleasure dwelt ; and joy made sweet repose, 
 
 Are these not symbols, floating from the sphere 
 
 Where truth is known, and bright realities appear ? 
 
 318
 
 A FANCY 
 
 A MAN there was, in the days of old, 
 Who leapt through the stormy blast, 
 
 His eyes were bright with an elfish light, 
 His form like a giant passed. 
 
 His home was where, in the far, far South, 
 The streams of the lightnings play 
 
 That rise from the cold Aurora's bed 
 Through the polar night alway. 
 
 He came with the hail and icy wind, 
 
 Maybe with the driving snow, 
 With his spirit flushed the tempest fierce 
 
 O'er the frozen sea did blow. 
 
 His soul was fed with the thoughts of years 
 
 That grew in the polar waste 
 Where the grim, gaunt ribs of Earth lie bare 
 
 By the feeble sun embraced. 
 
 He wandered oft o'er the wide, wide world 
 Where the Southern ocean spread 
 
 Its surges blue o'er a wondrous space 
 Where the giant whales are bred. 
 219
 
 A FANCY 
 
 And the sailor feared who, in the gale, 
 Saw gleaming the elfish light 
 
 Of the ancient's eyes that swiftly passed 
 Through the dull, tempestuous night. 
 
 220
 
 TROPIC ISLES 
 
 O ISLES that welter in the tropic sun 
 And feel the matchless fervour of his heat, 
 
 Whose floods descend when morning is begun 
 And vanish with the evening's flying feet. 
 
 About ye rolls the ocean in its pride, 
 
 Its waters azure as the summer sky, 
 And, swelling from its strong and restless tide, 
 
 A dithyrambic hymn unceasingly 
 
 Chants in low tones the music of the deep 
 That languid floats upon the perfumed air, 
 
 And everywhere delightful visions peep, 
 
 Green palms, gay flowers, and trees of foliage rare. 
 
 Here Nature looks her loveliest and her best, 
 And life is but a golden summer dream, 
 
 Sweet pleasure alternates with happy rest, 
 
 Days, months, and years with joyous idlesse teem. 
 
 Time ever lingers in these magic isles, 
 And mellow day succeeds to mellow day, 
 
 Each hour bestows a copious wealth of smiles 
 Ere passing in tranquillity away. 
 221
 
 TROPIC ISLES 
 
 But sometimes roars the black and threatening cloud, 
 And lightning flames from Heaven's half-riven floor, 
 
 The rain descends in drenching floods, and loud 
 The unchained winds o'er isles and oceans roar. 
 
 Fierce blows the hurricane awhile, until 
 On wings of might it passes to its quest, 
 
 The herbage seems more green, more blithe the rill, 
 Then land and ocean sink again to rest. 
 
 The coral polyps on the boundless deep 
 
 With ceaseless labour raise their banks of stone, 
 
 Age after age they to the surface creep 
 Until the margins of the isle are shown. 
 
 Thus, formed by living creatures, sits the isle, 
 And soon upon its rugged reefs appear 
 
 The coco grove and many a palm, the while 
 The seafowl in their myriads hover near. 
 
 222
 
 THE CORAL ISLE 
 
 I HEAR the crooning of the low-voiced surf 
 That rolls, and rolls, and rolls for evermore, 
 Softly it sinks upon the coral shore 
 
 As moonlight falls upon the grass-clad earth, 
 
 A tender glory mantling all the isle ; 
 
 The coco groves expansive shadows spread, 
 Lush life and careless happiness are wed, 
 
 All things the ardent senses do beguile ; 
 The brown kanakas in the surges play, 
 Or from their rude canoes seek passing prey. 
 
 The throbbing of the weary heart grows still 
 In this remote and half-primaeval spot 
 Where toil and strife for wealth and power are not, 
 
 Nor endless task of climbing Mammon's hill. 
 
 A little speck it lies upon the sea, 
 
 Built by the tiny creatures of the deep 
 That age by age from the abysses creep 
 
 Until the work is borne triumphantly 
 Up to the eye and vision of the day 
 A monument for ever and for aye. 
 
 Soon night will come and stars illustrious gleam 
 Like flaming torches of a countless host 
 That, ranked along the Heaven's unmeasured coast, 
 
 Unto the clay-freed soul a welcome beam. 
 
 223
 
 THE CORAL ISLE 
 
 The veil of sleep athwart the isle will fall 
 And silence hover : though the drowsy ear 
 Perchance may in the distant darkness hear 
 Some wakeful bird unto its fellow call ; 
 
 Sweet peace and rest ; the wavelets slowly creep 
 Up the white strand ; slumbers the tired deep. 
 
 224
 
 A SKETCH 
 
 So roams the leopardess, 
 
 Black-spotted, tawny-skinned, and full of ire, 
 When home returning from the chase full flushed 
 With life and vigour, having feasted well, 
 And fiercely glad through bearing in her maw 
 Prime food for her young cubs, enters her cave 
 And finds the traces of the foe still there ; 
 The passions of her bestial soul are lit, 
 And forth she rushes, driven by her wrath. 
 Fast o'er the hills she ranges till appear 
 The haggard rocks, bleak, old, and tempest-torn, 
 Naked of trees, or shrubs, or grass, or flowers, 
 Lorn and forgot save by the lonesome wind ; 
 Then with a roar that shakes the icy air 
 She plunges down a vast and dread ravine 
 That yet is clothed with fresh and living trees, 
 Deeming that here the hated foe will be. 
 With soft and wicked feet she swiftly leaps 
 Upon the fallen leaves, then faster moves 
 With every bound, for, lo ! the subtle scent 
 Of human foot makes her fierce nostril glow ; 
 Each quivering leap is longer than the last, 
 Until, emerging on an open space, 
 She spies a hunter weary and most faint 
 Beneath the burden of her ravished cubs. 
 Q 225
 
 A SKETCH 
 
 Hell gushes from her eyes ; her strides o'erpass 
 Fourfold their common length ; with muffled roar 
 The beast drives deep her fangs into the foe, 
 Who headlong falls, and from his neck wells out 
 The red blood gurgling with his warm, strong life.
 
 THE DAYS OF ARCADY 
 
 IN days of yore, when men were young, 
 And in their breasts sweet music rung, 
 Sweet music that from Heaven had sprung, 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 A pastoral race, they knew not care, 
 But joyous breathed a healthful air, 
 And passed a lusty life and rare 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 Ambition gnawed not with its tooth, 
 The mists of hate obscured not truth, 
 For men had love, and men had ruth, 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 A warmer sunshine bathed the trees, 
 A fragrance scented every breeze, 
 And Nature, smiling, sought to please 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 A lofty sky of deepest blue 
 Was flecked with clouds of golden hue, 
 Like angels flitting o'er the view, 
 In days of Arcady. 
 227
 
 THE DAYS OF ARCADY 
 
 A mellow light suffused the Earth, 
 And hills, and vales, and plains gave birth 
 To trees and flowers of matchless worth 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 And men, with souls responsive, heard 
 In voice of insect, beast, and bird, 
 The vibrant tones by Nature stirred, 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 For, lo ! the flames had scarce begun 
 To gleam in splendour from the sun 
 And through the firmament to run 
 In days of Arcady. 
 
 Thus spake our fathers when they thought 
 The web of life with ill was fraught, 
 And gold was all, and love was naught, 
 Not as in days of Arcady. 
 
 Beguiled by the subtle haze 
 Enveloping far-distant days 
 They thoughtless gave unmeasured praise 
 To days of Arcady. 
 
 And so, illustrious in our eyes, 
 The visions of the Past arise ; 
 The fancied happiness which lies 
 In vales of Arcady. 
 
 The same sun shines, the warm winds blow, 
 The flowers troop forth in gorgeous show, 
 The waters sparkle as they flow, 
 
 As in the days of Arcady. 
 
 228
 
 THE DAYS OF ARCADY 
 
 And lives as simple can be led, 
 And love to love can still be wed, 
 And Nature's bounties still are shed, 
 
 As in the days of Arcady. 
 
 The soul illumes with its own light, 
 And makes the world a sombre sight, 
 Or clothes it with a vesture bright 
 
 As in the days of Arcady. 
 
 229
 
 THE SINGERS OF THE PAST 
 
 How sweet the voices that have sung 
 
 In other days, in other years, 
 Whose breathings o'er the heart's strings played, 
 
 The gamut of man's hopes and fears ! 
 The tender echoes of their tones 
 
 Still linger on, from age to age, 
 A ghostly music from the past, 
 
 Which softly rustles life's sad page. 
 
 They sang the joys that men befall, 
 
 The lover and his trusting maid, 
 The springtime and the rosy dawn, 
 
 The rippling stream, the grateful shade ; 
 The charm and pulse of buoyant youth 
 
 When through the veins the strong desire 
 Of life, and love, and merry days, 
 
 Courses apace like liquid fire. 
 
 Sometimes, inspired with warlike zest, 
 
 They chanted in a lyric strain 
 The flood of battle rolling fierce, 
 
 The hero for his country slain ; 
 They brought the gods from their bright realms 
 
 To range the Earth with fateful spears, 
 And slaughter hecatombs of men, 
 
 And bathe the land in widows' tears. 
 230
 
 THE SINGERS OF THE PAST 
 
 Rich were these voices of the Past, 
 
 They sang a youthful world, not old, 
 With all the bloom upon its face, 
 
 And all its marvels yet untold ; 
 Its fields were of a brighter green, 
 
 Its untracked seas a deeper blue, 
 Its birds rejoiced with sweeter lays, 
 
 All things were fresh, all things were new. 
 
 Oh could we have beheld this globe, 
 
 When first it sprang from sombre night, 
 And on its newly fashioned orb 
 
 Fell glimmerings of celestial light ! 
 How glorious was the scene that broke 
 
 Upon the poet's vision when 
 He viewed the primal Earth, and saw 
 
 How mighty angels walked with men ! 
 
 231
 
 AN IDYLL 
 
 A RUSTIC cottage, roofed with thatch, 
 
 A doorstep, polished clean and bright, 
 Upon the lozenged windows gleamed 
 
 The redness of the evening light ; 
 A fragrance loitered in the air, 
 
 And, like a trilling bird elate, 
 A mother, young and very fair, 
 
 Sang gaily by a little gate. 
 
 And singing thus, she knew not why, 
 
 Save that a gay and choral mood 
 Had seized her and the music came 
 
 Spontaneous like a merry flood, 
 She fondled her sweet offspring, and, 
 
 Delighted with her blithe caress, 
 The baby with its tender hand 
 
 Played laughing with an unbound tress. 
 
 His hair was golden, and his eyes 
 
 Twinkled like two rejoicing stars 
 When from the world's dark edge ascend 
 
 The splendid Moon and ruddy Mars ; 
 So frolicked Eve, our mother great, 
 
 Forgetting what had passed away, 
 Her child preferred to Eden's charms, 
 
 Twas thus with Abel she did play. 
 232
 
 AN ASPIRATION 
 
 COULD we feel sure this life is but a stage, 
 The first approach unto an endless age 
 Of ampler being, where for weal or woe 
 The faculties perpetually will grow 
 
 And reach a fuller round of good or ill, 
 
 A river growing from a petty rill, 
 
 The finer to the finer senses knit, 
 
 The grosser to the grosser made more fit, 
 
 Our hearts would pulsate with a stronger beat ; 
 And we should walk at ease on steadfast feet ; 
 The mists would clear that now obscure the day, 
 And hide the tenor of our earthly way, 
 
 As when a traveller who, with doubtful pace, 
 Walks on a road whose course he cannot trace, 
 And knows not what its distant goal may be, 
 Nor if it leads to joy or misery, 
 
 At length beholds, upon the highway's side, 
 The index that becomes a friendly guide, 
 And tells him what awaits his journey's end, 
 And to what bourne his weary footsteps tend : 
 233
 
 AN ASPIRATION 
 
 Then sudden vigour spurs his jaded frame, 
 His mind enlightened views a certain aim, 
 No longer by vague hopes and fears perplexed, 
 His energies by flickering fancies vexed, 
 
 So, through the tale of years that we call life, 
 With strange vicissitudes and sadness rife, 
 A faithful guide would aid our feeble sight, 
 The cloud by day, the pillared fire by night, 
 
 We should not wander in thought's devious ways, 
 Or seek to thread the world's unravelled maze, 
 Nor rack our souls with questions dull and grey, 
 Why bad men flourish and the good decay ; 
 
 For with our inward sight made strong and clear, 
 Its gaze would pierce unto a broader sphere, 
 And view afar the palaces that lie 
 In the wide kingdoms of Infinity. 
 
 But we, alas ! are left to grope 'mid dim, 
 Delusive shadows that conceal the rim 
 And round of Being, such as we it know ; 
 The waters of Death's fateful river flow 
 
 In silence that hath never broken been, 
 And none is living who hath ever seen 
 If but one soul hath reached the farther shore 
 Of that dread stream that rolls for evermore. 
 
 234
 
 THE BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT 
 
 SHE never saw a mother's smile, 
 
 A father's kindly face, 
 The features of a friend suffused 
 
 With sympathetic grace, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 
 The orbs of her impotent eyes 
 Lacked lustre, and were cold, 
 
 Life's gleam was absent, nor by them 
 Was love or anger told, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 
 The wonders of the earth and sky 
 
 To her were but a name, 
 The glory of the ancient hills, 
 
 The sun's uprushing flame, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 
 She heard men speak of trees and flowers, 
 
 The ripples of the brook ; 
 From phrases such as these her mind 
 No certain meaning took, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 235
 
 THE BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT 
 
 The moving shadows of the woods, 
 
 The foamings of the surf, 
 Existed not for her ; no more 
 
 Than daisies in the turf, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 
 Her world was not the world of men, 
 
 For, reft of one chief sense, 
 She knew a part, but not the whole, 
 
 Of its magnificence, 
 
 But now she sees the light. 
 
 The dark is past ; the day is come, 
 
 Its luminous floodings roll ; 
 The liberated faculties 
 
 Leap freely from the soul, 
 
 For now she sees the light. 
 
 And yet her vision does not rest 
 
 On things that daily greet 
 The eyes of men, of living men, 
 
 In whose veins pulses beat, 
 
 Though now she sees the light. 
 
 What views she, then ? Nay, who can tell, 
 
 Or read the riddle plain 
 Behind the door which, entered once, 
 
 None can return again ? 
 
 But she beholds the light. 
 
 236
 
 THE RAILWAY TRAIN 
 
 WHAT sound is this that rumbles through the air 
 And mingles with the soughing of the breeze, 
 
 A sound that bids the list'ning ear prepare 
 For throbbings that will rise in louder keys ? 
 
 'Tis the rolling, 'tis the rolling, of the train. 
 
 Nigh and nigher still it comes, 
 Like the beating of great drums ; 
 For a moment dies the strain, 
 Then more loudly swells again, 
 
 'Tis the rolling, 'tis the rolling, of the train. 
 
 Till a full and strong vibration 
 Fills the air with animation, 
 And reverberating round 
 Spreads the volume of deep sound, 
 
 'Tis the roaring, 'tis the roaring, of the train. 
 
 With its sombre ensign floating, 
 Trails of smoke its course denoting, 
 Like a Titan in his haste 
 By Jove's thunders hotly chased 
 
 With its swift feet shod with lightning flies 
 the train. 
 
 237
 
 THE RAILWAY TRAIN 
 
 Bearing onward in its madness 
 Freight of human joy and sadness, 
 In its keeping tightly grasped 
 Men and women's lives are clasped, 
 
 In the keeping of the rushing, roaring train. 
 
 On its iron pathway borne 
 From the night until the morn, 
 From the morn until the night, 
 Moving with impetuous might, 
 
 With its rushing and its roaring rolls the train. 
 
 When the moon and gay stars peer 
 Downward from the ebon sphere, 
 Through the gloom that hides the world 
 Flames a ruddy splendour hurled 
 
 From the full eye, bright and gleaming, of the 
 train. 
 
 O'er the broad plain's meadows green, 
 Through the vale which lies between 
 Hills, and then in sinuous course 
 Mounting to the cataract's source, 
 
 Like a Destiny relentless rolls the train. 
 
 Where the city's busy strife 
 Wakes the hopes of human life, 
 Where the mart and crowded street 
 Make the pulse tumultuous beat, 
 
 Hitherwards, in royal progress, rolls the train. 
 238
 
 THE RAILWAY TRAIN 
 
 By a mighty giant led 
 From two potent forces bred, 
 Son of water and of fire, 
 Breathing deeply in his ire 
 With its voice of muttered thunder, 
 Thrilling all the world with wonder, 
 
 On its way, its way resistless, rolls the train. 
 
 239
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE 
 
 THE battle burns ; now flames, now sinks again ; 
 
 The youth puts on his armour for the fight, 
 Impatient for the conflict that shall gain 
 
 Him glory from the prowess of his might. 
 The noisy strifes of men bestir his blood, 
 
 Rejoicing at the clamour of their war, 
 Resistless rolls his spirit's ardent flood, 
 
 His thoughts on liberated pinions soar, 
 Confused his strugglings ; onset meets onset, 
 
 Some fall for aye ; some rise again, and hope 
 By hearts on final victory well set 
 
 With adverse fate successfully to cope. 
 So looms life's battle to the youth who sees 
 Fame's banner floating in the prosperous breeze. 
 
 When near life's end the man of years sedate 
 
 Emerging from the wild, tumultuous rout, 
 Half dazed, and moving with uncertain gait, 
 
 His warworn body clothed with scars about, 
 Looks back, and views the conflict hotly pressed, 
 
 While sounds the rumble of the human tide, 
 The grateful thought arises in his breast 
 
 That henceforth peace shall aye with him abide ; 
 240
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE 
 
 And yet the battle and its arduous moil 
 
 Made strong his manhood's fibre, and endued 
 
 It with the sap that springs from strenuous toil, 
 And gave his being nobler amplitude ; 
 
 Half-beaten, half-victorious, panting, he 
 
 Casts down his battered helm reluctantly. 
 
 241
 
 A SIMILE 
 
 I HEARD the sound of a cataract 
 
 That, rushing wild and free 
 From out its rocky prison, leaped 
 
 To grateful liberty. 
 It seemed to me like some proud soul 
 
 That, long in bonds confined, 
 Within a narrow channel pent 
 
 Has chafed to meet its kind, 
 
 Till one glad day its strength is loosed, 
 
 And then its 'prisoned powers 
 Well forth tumultuously and gleam 
 
 In iridescent showers ; 
 Thought follows thought in ceaseless rout 
 
 As surge succeeds to surge, 
 And from the kindled faculties 
 
 More vivid flames emerge. 
 
 242
 
 THE HARVEST OF DAYS 
 
 IN the harvest of days that are flown, 
 
 In the harvest of days still to come, 
 We have reaped of the seed we have sown, 
 
 We shall reap of our deeds the great sum ; 
 For each deed that is righteous will bear 
 
 The rich fruit of true goodness in time, 
 And each sin that is sinned will grow strong 
 
 With the food that is drawn from the slime. 
 
 If we yield up our lives to the strife, 
 
 The passionate yearning for gold, 
 The wild frenzy for lucre our hearts 
 
 In its sordid embrace will enfold ; 
 From its hard and cold visage will fly 
 
 All the kindly affections that move 
 Man's heart from the mire of the sty 
 
 To the finer delights of pure love. 
 
 We are born of the mutable Earth, 
 
 And our souls suffer manifold change, 
 From the day of our corporal birth 
 
 Till we enter Death's avenues strange ; 
 And the thoughts that we think, and the deeds 
 
 That we do, whether righteous or ill, 
 Each in its similitude breeds 
 
 The fates moulding us as they will. 
 243
 
 THE SOUL 
 
 THE soul is like a harp with many strings 
 That echo every passing wind that blows 
 
 The summer zephyr's idle murmurings, 
 The fitful breeze that idly comes and goes. 
 
 Yet it responds more freely to some tones, 
 
 To others yields a lesser sympathy, 
 Deep chords are wakened when the storm-wind moans 
 
 And rouses passion or antipathy. 
 
 The soul is like a glass whose face reflects 
 The varied phases of the forms around, 
 
 A mirror of the world without, whose specks 
 And beauties in its faithful frame are found. 
 
 It smiles with Nature, and with Nature weeps, 
 Bright sunshine mingles with our sombre fears, 
 
 Hope from dejection's weary prison leaps 
 And with its radiance scatters idle fears. 
 
 We are but children playing at the portals, 
 
 Yet looking not upon a palace fair, 
 Whose stately presence tells of the immortals, 
 
 And many marvels that are hidden there. 
 244
 
 EVENING 
 
 O'ER mountain, plain, and valley fall 
 
 The shades of eventide, 
 Yet still the splendours of the day 
 
 In memory abide ; 
 And pleasant musings, idle dreams, 
 
 Make calm the storm-tossed breast, 
 The lulling shades of evening bring 
 
 With them benignant rest. 
 
 As cloudlets from a crystal sky 
 
 Are born amidst the blue 
 And pass reluctant, one by one, 
 
 Across the field of view, 
 So from the depths of memory rise 
 
 The thoughts of other days, 
 And like a band of phantoms greet 
 
 The mind's reflective gaze. 
 
 And softened by the twilight hours, 
 
 Amid the gloaming seen, 
 The path of life looks fair and smooth, 
 
 Unlike what it has been; 
 Each pleasant halt upon the way 
 
 Looms large, and full, and clear, 
 And chastened by the lapse of time 
 
 Our sorrows less appear. 
 245
 
 EVENING 
 
 But memory lingers with most charm 
 
 On some propitious hour 
 When sudden into bloom there sprang 
 
 Joy's most propitious flower ; 
 A rapture all the senses thrilled, 
 
 A sudden glimpse of Heaven 
 Was opened for a moment, while 
 
 The world from us was riven. 
 
 Oh visions sweet, to man vouchsafed 
 
 Upon the road which he 
 Must travel to the distant land 
 
 Where dwells Eternity; 
 The light streams forth from his bright soul 
 
 Hid in its house of clay, 
 And gleaming for a moment shows 
 
 The bourne so far away. 
 
 Dear hallowed eve ! when lovers meet 
 
 And deem the world their own, 
 The peace and beauty of the time 
 
 Seem gifts for them alone ; 
 And friend converses with his friend, 
 
 Mind links itself to mind, 
 The fragrance of the evening wakes 
 
 Emotion soft and kind. 
 
 The shades fall thickly, and the green 
 
 Gay robe which decks the Earth 
 Throughout the day grows brown and dark, 
 
 And shadows strange have birth ; 
 The planets shine in far-off realms, 
 
 And constellations bright, 
 The spirits of our fathers walk 
 
 The starry halls of night. 
 246
 
 ALL'S WELL 
 
 AMID the fitful shades of sombre night 
 Dim ramparts rise before the troubled sight, 
 Their outlines vast reveal a denser gloom 
 Like harbingers of some impending doom ; 
 When suddenly upon the ear there falls 
 The cry of wakeful sentry from the walls 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 
 Clear rings throughout the night the martial cry, 
 And breaks awhile the drear monotony 
 That hovers brooding o'er the slumbering town, 
 O'er hill and vale, green mead, and rolling down ; 
 The mourner, prostrate with his grief and fears, 
 Feels hope upspringing swiftly when he hears 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 
 Nor yet alone when nights are dark and drear, 
 But when a calm and mellow atmosphere 
 Grows lustrous with the moon and golden stars, 
 Nor bitter thought, nor painful memory mars 
 Our happiness, or dulls our higher aims, 
 The sentry with sonorous voice proclaims 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 247
 
 ALL'S WELL 
 
 All through the sluggish watches, till the dawn, 
 Rebounding echo unto echo borne 
 Denote the lapse of time, its ceaseless flight, 
 The changing splendours of the waning night; 
 For sentry unto sentry calls again, 
 And turn by turn they cry the clear refrain 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 
 So when deep gloom, begotten of our fears, 
 Obscures the hopes which cheer the toiling years, 
 And faith is lost amid despondency, 
 Life's summer changing to a wintry sky, 
 Then sudden from the heart's lone citadel 
 Is heard the calling of its sentinel 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 
 All's well, sad soul ! though clouds conceal the sun, 
 All's well ! though night is clothed with darkness dun, 
 All's well, sad soul ! though seas and tempests rage, 
 And all the elements in war engage ; 
 Though Nature reels and shakes each mountain crest, 
 All is not lost, but working for the best 
 
 " All's well ! " 
 
 248
 
 THE TRUE LIFE 
 
 THE sum of our lives is complete 
 
 When our full tale of years has been told, 
 
 And we pass to the grave with slow feet 
 And a frame that is weary and old. 
 
 Yet our pulses may never have stirred 
 
 With the zeal of a vigorous life, 
 Nor our ears have been opened, or heard 
 
 The secrets in Nature so rife. 
 
 Have we bathed in the glories that spread 
 From the hands of the beautiful Sun 
 
 When his manifold splendours are shed 
 
 O'er the Earth that is grey-ribbed and dun ? 
 
 Have we seen with the innermost eye 
 The beauty that robes every tree, 
 
 Every bird that aspires to the sky, 
 Every mountain, and plain, and the sea ? 
 
 Have we felt the deep throbbing of love 
 Awakening the chords that are born 
 
 In the land where the fierce passions rove 
 And the flower from its refuge is torn ? 
 249
 
 THE TRUE LIFE 
 
 Have we shared the strong strife of strong men ? 
 
 Have we drunk of the wine that is made 
 In the stress of life's battle-storm when 
 
 The strenuous lightnings have played ? 
 
 For if, like the ox in the field, 
 
 We have passed a dull time of content, 
 
 Our life, with its force unrevealed, 
 
 Like a mist on the moor has been spent. 
 
 250
 
 SOMETIMES, WHEN FLUSHED WITH PRIDE 
 OF LIFE 
 
 SOMETIMES, when flushed with pride of life, 
 
 Our pulses beating full and strong, 
 While through the glowing veins the blood 
 
 In merry courses flows along, 
 By fond delusive fancy clad 
 
 The world puts on its bridal dress, 
 And every feature of its face 
 
 Is flushed with joy and happiness. 
 
 We hope and dream that we no more 
 
 Down sorrow's rugged path may tread, 
 But that henceforth by fitful Fate 
 
 We shall on pleasant ways be led, 
 That rosy dawns shall usher in, 
 
 Day after day, a golden noon, 
 And when the sun has left the sky 
 
 There shall appear a splendid moon. 
 
 But, then, alas ! across our joy 
 
 Misfortune's shadow oft is cast, 
 And from its cruel form proceed 
 
 The breathings of an icy blast; 
 
 251
 
 WHEN FLUSHED WITH PRIDE OF LIFE 
 
 Our hearts and energies grow numb 
 With dread of that which may befall ; 
 
 Along the gallery of our fears 
 Sad voices to each other call. 
 
 Perchance a being loved is brought 
 
 By sudden stroke to Death's dark gate, 
 Whose portals open to receive 
 
 The soul unto an unknown state; 
 Before the searching of its breath 
 
 The glamour from the great world rolls. 
 And Truth is seen in naked guise 
 
 When solemnly the requiem tolls. 
 
 Or it may be some cherished plan 
 
 On which our heart was wholly set 
 Has failed just when we hoped to grasp 
 
 The prize we toiled so long to get ; 
 And if not these, yet we may meet 
 
 Some one of many painful checks 
 That mar the progress of our lives 
 
 And all our cherished fancies vex. 
 
 Yet grief and joy oft interchange 
 
 And life is made of many moods; 
 The melancholy strain that wakes 
 
 From Sorrow's fingering preludes 
 May yield to airs that waft the soul 
 
 On waves of music that do well 
 From hidden springs whose waters rise 
 
 Amid the fields of asphodel. 
 
 252
 
 THE PARTING WAYS 
 
 WHILE we, on worn and wayward feet, 
 Pursue Life's strange and varied way, 
 
 Full many a fateful chance we meet 
 That leads us from our road to stray. 
 
 Creatures of moods and passions we, 
 Seldom by Reason's pharos led, 
 
 Unstable as the restless sea 
 Rolling upon its rocky bed. 
 
 Mayhap some careless word has torn 
 Us from the one we loved full well, 
 
 And henceforth must we sadly mourn 
 The day when such a chance befell; 
 
 Or it may be that we have seen 
 While toiling as if nigh defeat 
 
 Some pleasant byway clothed in green, 
 An easy carpet for the feet. 
 
 Its verdant charm beguiled our gaze, 
 We turned unto the tempting path: 
 
 But, lo ! it led to mire and maze, 
 Sin's recompense and aftermath. 
 253
 
 THE PARTING WAYS 
 
 If but some splendid beacon flame 
 Did on Life's distant summit burn, 
 
 We should behold a certain aim, 
 The tenor of our way discern. 
 
 But we grope on, nor see beyond 
 The margin of a narrow sphere; 
 
 Blindly we walk, and oft despond, 
 Our minds bedimmed with doubt and fear. 
 
 254
 
 LIFE 
 
 OUR lives are but the echoes strange 
 Which down the gallery of years 
 
 In changeful voices roll and range 
 Expressive of our hopes and fears. 
 
 Our thoughts are born, we know not how, 
 They flit like phantoms through the brain, 
 
 And make us to their wishes bow 
 And o'er our every action reign. 
 
 From out the void, with whirring wings, 
 Fate comes, and with her trumpet call 
 
 Bids some poor soul leave earthly things 
 And enter in Death's gloomy hall. 
 
 255
 
 SOME WORDS 
 
 IT was not much that he did say, 
 
 Nor was it uttered readily, 
 But those few words she ne'er forgot, 
 
 Some words he whispered tenderly. 
 
 Through all the changes of her life 
 She cherished in her memory 
 
 The words she heard on that glad eve, 
 Those words he whispered tenderly. 
 
 Their fragrance lingered all her days, 
 They poured a balm on every smart, 
 
 The rhythm of the words was sweet, 
 She heard their chimings in her heart. 
 
 The tremor of their breathing woke 
 Rich chords of love's own melody, 
 
 And she repeated, oft and aye, 
 Those words he whispered tenderly. 
 
 256
 
 THE DELHI DURBAR 
 
 December 12, 1911 
 
 A MONARCH great approaches now the East 
 Whose sceptre rules o'er many a region fair, 
 
 Like fragrance sweet by sultry breeze increased 
 His rumoured coming rustles through the air; 
 
 In gay bazaar, or at the marriage feast, 
 All India waits a day beyond compare; 
 
 Confused is heard the people's joyful din 
 
 From Himalayan snows to Comorin ! 
 
 A land of romance and of fancies wild, 
 
 Where love is fervid as the tropic sun, 
 And the fierce warrior, like an humble child, 
 
 Obeys strange counsel from the dervish won. 
 In temples weird by blood-stained rites defiled 
 
 Dread gods look on where acts obscene are done, 
 While from the mosque, whose minaret cleaves the air, 
 The muezzin calls the faithful unto prayer. 
 
 From dawn of human speech has India made 
 The heart of man beat faster with desire, 
 
 Nations and tribes in battle host arrayed 
 
 Have scorched its fields like floods of living fire; 
 
 Transient have passed in glittering parade 
 Kings, armies, nations, to oblivion's pyre; 
 
 Seen through Time's mists that render history vain 
 
 There flames the cruel sword of Tamerlane, 
 s 257
 
 THE DELHI DURBAR 
 
 Strong flows the turbid Ganges to the sea, 
 And when the moon illumes the sacred stream 
 
 Its waves receive the Hindu devotee ; 
 To cleanse the soul their virtue is supreme, 
 
 Thus from all lusts and worldly pride set free 
 The soul grows meet for Heaven's immortal gleam ; 
 
 How happy he who yielding his last breath 
 
 By Mother Ganges seeks the shades of death ! 
 
 Lo, now the monarch sits on Akbar's throne 
 
 Amid a city haunted by the shades 
 Of kings and mighty rajahs wandering lone 
 
 Where once they rode in gorgeous cavalcades 
 While multitudes gave homage, lying prone, 
 
 And the wild Scythians shook their hungry blades; 
 Three thousand years have Delhi's towers loomed high, 
 
 The royal seat of many a dynasty. 
 
 The emperor is crowned ; a golden crest, 
 
 Enriched with chasings fine and costly gems, 
 
 Rests on his brow ; emblem of East and West 
 Together linked by India's diadem ; 
 
 A hundred princes in rich garments dressed 
 His throne with signs of power thickly hem. 
 
 Through Asia rolls the splendour of this day, 
 
 From Caspian sea unto remote Cathay. 
 
 258
 
 SONNETS 
 
 No country on this terrene globe is by 
 The foot of man untrod, nor region where 
 His voice has ne'er disturbed the silent air 
 With merry laugh or sad, despondent sigh, 
 Love's ardent tale or pain's unwitting cry ; 
 
 For many an age his prayers have been addressed 
 To many a god, prayers holy, prayers unblest, 
 Plenteous as leaves the autumn winds drive by; 
 Oft has the mighty rack of battle rolled 
 Thundering o'er land and sea, in many a clime, 
 Brave men acclaiming death before their time, 
 Their valiant souls cast in heroic mould, 
 Man's spirit hovers round this mundane ball 
 And aye shall hold its destiny in thrall. 
 
 II 
 
 This globe is rich with memories new and old, 
 The memories of past races who have played 
 A part in life's strange drama, and essayed 
 
 To drink what nectar its deep cup may hold ; 
 
 But mingled with these recollections old 
 Are gathering memories of the nations who 
 In multitudes innumerable do 
 
 From many lands the sun's red throne behold ; 
 
 259
 
 SONNETS 
 
 From out the mists of distant ages call 
 The voices of the creatures who have dwelt 
 Countless as sands upon the ocean's belt 
 
 Through untold years upon this earthly ball ; 
 
 Yea, when the globe shall die and lifeless be 
 
 These memories shall enwrap it like a sea. 
 
 in 
 
 Fate gives to some men wealth ; to others fame, 
 And some wear trappings of exalted power 
 That serve to cloak the heart where passions dour 
 
 Bedim the glory of the world's acclaim ; 
 
 And some seek happiness in the demesne 
 
 Where pleasure's flowers are blooming every day, 
 Until the eye turns wearily away 
 
 From the impassioned, ever-restless flame ; 
 
 And some move slowly as with feet of lead, 
 Who dully plod along the road of life, 
 Their only care to meet but little strife 
 
 And keep their eager bellies fully fed; 
 
 A few on wings of thought rise to the spheres 
 
 Where knowledge dwells and immemorial years. 
 
 IV 
 
 I built a palace in the land of dreams, 
 
 Where I might dwell awhile in pleasant ease 
 Ere I embarked upon the fateful craft 
 
 That bears us over death's tempestuous seas ; 
 It wore the semblance of a joyous song 
 
 By art embodied into fretted stone, 
 Within my idols were in order ranged 
 
 Each seated on its own especial throne ; 
 260
 
 Its rooms were lit by fancy's vivid beams 
 And all seemed ready for the promised rest, 
 
 A haven fair, a beauteous dwelling-place, 
 Where every hour would give the next a zest. 
 
 But, lo ! from off the world a blast did blow, 
 
 The palace tottered to its overthrow. 
 
 Lo ! we have lost the sense of that repose 
 
 Which rests upon the spirit like a cloud, 
 While the shrill clangour of the wild world grows 
 
 Fainter and still more faint, until the crowd 
 Of anxious thoughts melt into pleasant dreams, 
 
 When we do wander down full many a dale 
 Wherein the light of sweet contentment gleams 
 
 And gay-winged fancy tells its fairy tale ; 
 Our hearts pulsate too quickly, and the toil 
 
 We bring upon us, the unceasing strife 
 And struggling in the eager world's turmoil, 
 
 Debar us from enjoyment of the life 
 That spends its golden hours most peacefully 
 In flower-strewn meadows by a happy sea. 
 
 VI 
 
 The tranquil insect sucks up greedily 
 
 The nectar welling from the rose's breast ; 
 A proud concave around, in azure dressed, 
 
 Extends an ample dome most gloriously; 
 
 Slim columns, crowned with gold, rise gracefully 
 From out the verdure, and a rich perfume 
 Like some sweet presence in a noble room 
 
 Floats like an idle dream, voluptuously; 
 261
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Here roam through many a deep-hued corridor 
 Creatures minute, and crawl their lives away. 
 Perchance a sunny gleam from out the day 
 
 May hint to these dull souls there may be more 
 Than to their untaught eyes doth now appear, 
 Some novel scene, some unimagined sphere. 
 
 VII 
 
 The silver moth flits by on lustrous wing, 
 
 Around the lamp its rapid pinions play, 
 Near and more near it seeks the dazzling thing 
 
 To probe the novel splendour if it may; 
 The hot effulgence fills its petty brain 
 
 With dreams of manifold delights in store: 
 What treasures may that golden light contain ? 
 
 What wondrous bliss to moth unknown before ? 
 Full soon the glowing flame intoxicates, 
 
 The danger grows with every giddy whirl, 
 Till comes a moment when the fiery fates 
 
 Seize on the insect in its dying swirl. 
 Thus man, pursuing oft a glittering crown, 
 Finds but a grave wherein to lay him down. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Hope's voice seductive stirs the human heart 
 From hours of childhood with its light desires, 
 Till youth is kindled with love's ardent fires 
 
 And golden scenes of happiness upstart ; 
 
 Then comes ambition with its pungent dart, 
 Pursuit of riches, and the race for wealth, 
 Where he who wins yet injures his soul's health. 
 
 " Success," Hope whispers to each fainting heart, 
 
 262
 
 SONNETS 
 
 " Strive on, for certain is the morrow's gain. 
 Oft gloomy clouds obscure the flaming sun, 
 Its glory hidden by a curtain dun ; 
 The clouds will pass, the sun be seen again." 
 
 And when, oppressed by years, ambition dies, 
 Hope promises a mansion in the skies. 
 
 IX 
 
 O river, thou art not the same to-day 
 As yestere'en ; nor shall the waters flow 
 To-morrow which to-day the breezes blow 
 
 Into light waves that rise, then glide away; 
 
 The life that dwells within thee changes not, 
 But ever drift thy waters without cease; 
 The trees that shade thee stand and there increase, 
 
 Upon thy banks the flowers fulfil their lot ; 
 
 The fishes haunt thy pools and breed their young, 
 Thou giv'st them sustenance, with all the fowl 
 And insects that about thy surface prowl, 
 
 Nor heed what waters they may sport among. 
 O river, whom the pleasant zephyrs woo, 
 Like Time, thou art a shade and presence too. 
 
 x 
 
 The last brown, withered leaf falls to the ground, 
 And naked stands the stiff and sapless tree, 
 A torpor grasps its soul, and creepingly 
 
 The chill of Winter through its frame is wound. 
 
 Gone is its verdure with the cheerful sound 
 Of bird and insect gay that make their home 
 Amid the tender combings of the foam 
 
 Of its soft foliage ; and its life is bound 
 263
 
 SONNETS 
 
 Fast in the cincture of the wrinkled bark. 
 
 Yet once again, when the young Spring shall call, 
 Its prison opened by the sun's hot ball, 
 
 The tree shall to the welcome summons hark; 
 Then every twig a gracious leaf shall bear, 
 A glorious robe of green the tree shall wear. 
 
 XI 
 
 Lo ! when the limner Spring, with glowing hand, 
 Begins to paint the earth with colours fair, 
 While sunbeams warm the brisk and cheerful air, 
 
 And warbling birds are heard throughout the land, 
 
 Then o'er the wattle's leaflets dark and tanned 
 There spreads a saffron blush ; faintly at first 
 Till, gathering splendour, the whole tree doth burst 
 
 Into a golden vision, rich and grand, 
 
 Sumptuous the robe of beauty, but its hues 
 Are fleeting as the tints of evening clouds 
 
 That snatch a glory from the dying sun, 
 
 A moment they majestic lights diffuse, 
 Then with its cloak the night their forms enshrouds 
 
 And spectres whisper in the darkness dun. 
 
 XII 
 
 Man's soul has aye been vexed with many creeds, 
 The offspring of his strong desire to know 
 Why he to life did come, to death must go, 
 
 And why he fain must strive with sordid needs. 
 
 A multitude of gods he has, and feeds 
 The hungry flame on promises and hopes 
 That one day he shall mount celestial slopes 
 
 And reach the path empyreal that leads 
 
 264
 
 SONNETS 
 
 To realms where human faculties unfold 
 
 And all their secret powers and might display 
 As streaks of morn expand to perfect day ; 
 Thus shall he gain a prize of bliss untold. 
 
 But are these truths, or only dreams that pass 
 Like shadows flitting o'er the silly grass ? 
 
 265
 
 PART II 
 
 267
 
 THE FISHING OF MAUI * 
 
 i 
 
 GREAT Maui, born of men, 
 
 But kindred to the Powers 
 Who dwell in realms of bliss 
 
 Unmindful of the hours, 
 Alone within a glen 
 
 That clove the mountain's side 
 Where down the steepness rushed 
 
 A turbid, icy tide, 
 Wandered like one whose thoughts 
 
 Confined to their own sphere 
 Heed not what lies beyond 
 
 Its narrow atmosphere. 
 The Southern Cross's gems 
 
 Shone nigh the Austral Pole, 
 Where stars unnumbered gleam, 
 
 A bright, celestial shoal. 
 And as he roamed there stirred 
 
 Within the human clod 
 A spirit from on high 
 
 The spirit of the god : 
 
 * According to Maori legend, the North Island of New Zealand 
 was fished up from the sea by Maui, a kind of demigod, who 
 used upon the occasion a hook made from the jawbone of his 
 grandfather, as one version of the legend gives it, while another 
 makes his grandmother the original owner of the jawbone. Maui 
 is pronounced Mawee. 
 
 269
 
 THE FISHING OF MAU1 
 
 A tumult strange and strong 
 
 Arose within his breast, 
 Yearnings divine and deep, 
 
 Longings unexpressed. 
 The throes that herald birth 
 
 Of mighty enterprise 
 Disturbed his soul and made 
 
 The fire leap in his eyes ; 
 And then, in that ravine, 
 
 He built an altar vast 
 Of rocks in ancient times 
 
 From some volcano cast. 
 
 With many a murmured spell 
 
 Upon its top he laid 
 The brands from which a fire 
 
 Could readily be made ; 
 Strange brands were they, nor shaped 
 
 By mortal hand or skill, 
 Enchanted withers bound 
 
 Ghostly material ; 
 They gave a novel flame 
 
 When Maui lit the pyre, 
 Its colour like the moon, 
 
 A cold and pallid fire ; 
 The fern trees that grew sparse 
 
 About the silent glen 
 Cast shadows dense that roved 
 
 Like wraiths of guilty men. 
 With incantations rare 
 
 From wise tohungas learnt 
 He cast upon the fire 
 
 And yet it was not burnt 
 The jawbone that he rapt 
 270
 
 THE FISHING OF MAUI 
 
 From his ancestor's face, 
 His grandsire, wisest seer 
 
 Of all the Maori race. 
 About the giant bone 
 
 The pale flames flashed and played, 
 Whose lambent tongues licked clean 
 
 The ivory and made 
 A charm of wondrous force 
 
 Imbued with art sublime, 
 Fell power to shake the Earth 
 
 And probe the depths of Time. 
 Thus Maui sought to wed 
 
 The living with the dead. 
 
 II 
 
 The fishermen toiled from the break of the day till the 
 
 sun 
 Lay close to the rim of the ocean, and the petrels 
 
 began to decline 
 And fold up their wings on the waters, their day's flying 
 
 done, 
 
 While the hues of the sea grew deeper, with the tints 
 of rich, ruddy wine, 
 
 The scaly-clad fish slid past, despising the glittering bait, 
 And the fishermen's souls waxed sad, as the hours 
 
 loitered wearily by, 
 The canoe, to the rhyme of the waves, rocked slow with 
 
 a staggering gait, 
 
 While low in the south the Kaikouras * loomed white 
 on an amethyst sky. 
 
 * A range of mountains in the South Island. 
 271
 
 THE FISHING OF MAUI 
 
 Then mighty, inscrutable Maui, from slumber profound, 
 Uprose with the mien of the prophet, and his eye pale 
 
 with mystery, 
 
 And from the canoe's narrow bearings he swiftly un- 
 wound 
 
 Long coil after coil of white muka, flax cultured by 
 hands weird and dree. 
 
 He plaited and fashioned a cable, Titanic in strength, 
 And chanted a chant full of power, full of dread, in 
 
 a voice like the wind, 
 While the line that he wove unravelled its wonderful 
 
 length, 
 
 Till it seemed as if Maui were seeking the Earth in 
 strong cordage to bind ; 
 
 And the song that he sang, the magical words that he 
 
 said, 
 Shook the terrified sun, whose rays became thrilled 
 
 with a tremulous motion, 
 While from the gathering clouds the moon showed its 
 
 old, pallid head, 
 
 And the pulse of the ocean throbbed with a wild and 
 fierce commotion. 
 
 Then to the line deftly he fastened, with many a fold, 
 The hook he had fashioned with craft and with guile 
 
 from his ancestor's bone, 
 
 And, raising his voice till across the Pacific it rolled, 
 Filling full the concave of Heaven with a rich and 
 sonorous tone, 
 
 272
 
 THE FISHING OF MAUI 
 
 With huge sturdy arm he flung far, far from the 
 
 vessel's low side, 
 The line with its bait, which adown the blue waters 
 
 quivered and sank 
 To realms of liquescent darkness, where unshapely 
 
 creatures abide 
 
 And roam through the forests of ocean, whose 
 colourless herbage grows rank; 
 
 Till the bone, like an anchor, clung fast to the place 
 
 where it fell, 
 And Maui, with deep suspirations, drew tauter and 
 
 tauter the line, 
 And the sea in huge surges and manifold waves 'gan 
 
 to swell, 
 
 While on Nature's brow, like an omen dread, there 
 gleamed a terrible sign. 
 
 And the sharks, mad with fear, the krakens, leviathan 
 
 whales, 
 Raised a tempest of foam on the ocean with their 
 
 churnings and fright ; 
 The sky muttered thunder, the breath of the freshening 
 
 gales 
 
 Blew keenly and strong and shook out the robes of 
 the fast-coming night ; 
 
 Till a mountain arose from the waves of the boundless 
 
 deep, 
 And the valleys debouched to the plain, and the plain 
 
 spread down to the shore, 
 
 And a land fair and stately lay there in a garment of sleep 
 As if it had slumbered in rest profound since the days 
 
 of evermore. 
 T 273
 
 TE REINGA 
 
 NEAR the headland bold and steep 
 Where Te Reinga's ramparts creep 
 
 Into the wave, 
 
 Where the surges and the foam 
 Guard the dead's most secret home 
 
 From gaze profane, 
 And the sea birds' raucous cry 
 Warns the spectres coming nigh, 
 
 But warns in vain ; 
 
 Region where the phantoms mourn, 
 To the sunless caves forlorn 
 
 On their way, 
 
 Region where the souls of men 
 Shudder through the haunted glen 
 
 Night and day, 
 Region of the borderland, 
 Life with Death there locked in hand, 
 
 Twin brothers they, 
 
 Lived in olden times a man 
 Clothed with years beyond the span 
 
 Of mortal race ; 
 Wise in occult arts and dread, 
 Oft conversing with the dead 
 
 Dwelling alone; 
 274
 
 TE REINGA 
 
 Priest and chieftain in his day, 
 All his kin had passed away 
 Unto their place. 
 
 Oft when on his hermit bed, 
 Resting there with hoary head 
 
 Through night's long hours, 
 Lay the wizard, lo ! his sense 
 Quickened to a point intense 
 
 By thought and woe, 
 Heard the spirits' voices thin 
 Stirring with their ghostly din 
 
 The passing hours. 
 
 Now and then a voice more loud 
 Back returning with its shroud 
 
 To life's sweet land, 
 Wairatane's slender stream 
 Frightened with its spectral gleam 
 
 The timid soul, 
 Back it came to joyous Earth, 
 Life, and love, and jocund mirth, 
 
 The mortal band. 
 
 Sometimes when the sun's warm light 
 Clothed the world with colours bright, 
 
 A garment gay, 
 Came a sound unto the seer, 
 Creeping to his trembling ear, 
 
 Wailing and slow 
 Sobs that told the progress fell, 
 Progress of a soul to hell, 
 
 Passing away. 
 275
 
 TE REINGA 
 
 When the battle fiercely rolled, 
 Foeman meeting foeman bold, 
 
 Spear raised to spear, 
 Fast the phantoms flitted by, 
 Flitting with a bitter cry, 
 
 Hate after death, 
 All the frenzy of the fight 
 Bearing to Te Reinga's height 
 
 And caverns drear. 
 
 Fast now the old tohunga sleeps, 
 O'er his lone grave the lizard creeps, 
 His life, and deeds, and wondrous mind 
 Forgotten like the passing wind. 
 But still along Te Reinga tread 
 Reluctant phantoms of the dead; 
 Trembling they seek what fate shall be 
 Theirs when they sink into the sea, 
 The depths of the measureless sea. 
 
 (Note. According to the old Maori belief, the soul, imme- 
 diately after death, makes its way to the extreme north of New 
 Zealand, to a place called Te Reinga, and there descends into 
 its future abode beneath the earth by passing along a rocky 
 promontory and plunging into the sea, where it enters the caves 
 of the dead, which are supposed to be hidden from view by 
 masses of seaweed floating upon the surface of the ocean. Be- 
 fore it can reach the promontory, the soul must cross a small 
 stream called Wairatane, and up to this time it has the option 
 of returning to the world, which refers to the case of persons who 
 have been brought to the verge of death, and then recovered. 
 Wairatane once crossed, the soul can no longer return.)
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 UPON the strangest bark that e'er 
 
 Since man was born sailed on the sea 
 A voyager of noble air 
 Was carried o'er it buoyantly, 
 A maid whose rank and lineage long 
 Are celebrate in Maori song. 
 
 Safe on the shark king's ample back 
 
 Sat Ina, exile from her home, 
 Behind them oped a hollow track 
 Where surged the white, tumultuous foam 
 Tekea's wondrous magnitude 
 Made minnows of the fishy brood. 
 
 Proud Ina, to the gods allied, 
 
 Brooked not her parents' bitter wrath; 
 Urged by the prickings of her pride 
 She sought upon the sea a path 
 By which the sacred isle to gain 
 Where noble Tinirau doth reign. 
 
 A girdle clasped her supple waist, 
 
 A cincture blessed with magic power, 
 With many a weird device 'twas graced, 
 A talisman in direst hour; 
 The spirits of the dead amid 
 The compass of its folds lay hid. 
 277
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 On sea or land this girdle kept 
 
 The wearer safe from every ill; 
 Though ocean were by tempest swept 
 Till every wave became a hill, 
 Vainly the hurricane would roar 
 If Ina but the girdle wore. 
 
 The sacred isle was far away, 
 
 A distant guerdon to be won, 
 She knew not where save that it lay 
 Amongst the regions of the sun; 
 Tekea saw, within his brain, 
 The route to take across the main. 
 
 Upon his tropic island home 
 
 Dwells Tinirau, of fishes lord, 
 Of fish that in the ocean roam, 
 Or life to flowing streams afford; 
 Tekea, subject to his spell, 
 The way unto the isle could tell. 
 
 " O king of sharks ! what craft are these 
 
 Fast toiling in your mighty wake ? 
 They seem to stretch across the seas, 
 About them little surges break. 
 Are they perchance a hostile band 
 Pursuing from my parents' land ? " 
 
 Thus Ina spake ; her woman's fears 
 
 O'ercoming her a moment till 
 Athwart her bosom's gathering tears 
 She felt the girdle's welcome thrill ; 
 The force that issued from its flame 
 Gave courage to her trembling frame. 
 278
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 " No craft are they hewn from the tree, 
 Fashioned with cunning skill and art, 
 But sharks that swim the boundless sea, 
 Oft wandering lonely, far apart, 
 Now in a line their grim shapes glide 
 Like to a pennon floating wide. 
 
 " Fear not their fierce and cruel jaws, 
 For none shall harm thee ; but when they 
 
 Can hear thy voice bid them give pause 
 And this command of mine obey : 
 ' The king of sharks needs not your train 
 Return unto your haunts again.' " 
 
 Tekea thus the maiden cheered, 
 
 And so it happed, for when the shark 
 That led the host came nigh and veered 
 Unto the side of Ina's bark, 
 She spake the words Tekea bade 
 Unto the finny cavalcade. 
 
 Nor spoke in vain ; for scarce had died 
 
 The silver tones upon the air 
 Than fins and backs of sharks were spied 
 Rippling the ocean everywhere ; 
 Soon disappeared the ravening brood, 
 Slumbered the sea in solitude. 
 
 Days followed nights, nights followed days, 
 
 Tekea still was journeying; 
 Now seas encountered Ina's gaze, 
 Strange birds flew by on novel wing, 
 The sun and moon remained the same, 
 But every night fresh planets came. 
 279
 
 tNA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 Her dreamy soul was wrapped in trance ; 
 
 And as successive marvels rose 
 From out the concave's vast expanse, 
 Deep longings stirred with many throes 
 For knowledge quickens with desire 
 As on broad pinions it mounts higher. 
 
 The fervour of romantic quest 
 
 Kindled her fancy into flame, 
 And by the light within her breast 
 The ocean, air, and sky became 
 A vision floated from afar 
 From out of some celestial star. 
 
 Till one bright morn, as some faint dream 
 
 Our fancy oft has strove to woo 
 Becomes a real and living theme, 
 The holy island rose to view, 
 And Ina saw, with heart elate, 
 The isle that held her future fate. 
 
 Its peaks assailed a tender mist 
 
 That hung o'er many a chasm dim 
 Where birds whose plumes the sun had kissed 
 Sang oft the forest's ancient hymn, 
 A sacred glamour clothed the land 
 From mountain top to coral strand. 
 
 Before her lies a shining lake 
 
 Upon whose marge tall palm trees grow, 
 Gay fish of brilliant colours shake 
 The waters, flashing to and fro ; 
 
 Of various size, their splendours seem 
 The fancies of a gorgeous dream. 
 280
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 Far off a lofty mountain rears 
 
 Tremendous steeps against the sky, 
 And in one deep ravine appears 
 A cascade falling noiselessly; 
 It flashes with a splendid zest, 
 A jewel on the mountain's breast. 
 
 Beside the lake a dwelling throws 
 
 A shadow of a giant size 
 Upon the water's calm repose, 
 And greets the maiden's wondering eyes ; 
 Its portals, carved with skill and grace, 
 Bear records of the owner's race. 
 
 With timid steps she enters in 
 
 And views the pillars of the hall, 
 Deep solitude prevails within, 
 
 She fears lest harm may her befall; 
 No voice or sound the ear doth meet, 
 It seems sad Silence's retreat. 
 
 Behold, a drum of strange design, 
 
 Weird figures carved upon each rim, 
 Hangs from the roof by flaxen line 
 Where daylight hovers dull and dim; 
 Beneath lie prone two batons good 
 Made of the fragrant sandalwood. 
 
 An ardent wish stirs Ina's breast 
 
 To hear the drum's sonorous voice, 
 A wish that will not be suppressed, 
 Waxing until it leaves no choice ; 
 Then Ina lets a baton fall 
 Upon the drum in that great hall. 
 281
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 Deep, strong, and musical the sound 
 
 That issues from th' enchanted drum, 
 It fills the palace ; all around 
 Reverberates the pleasant hum; 
 Throughout the island floats the strain, 
 It hovers o'er the neighbouring main. 
 
 Tinirau hears ; and well he knows 
 The meaning of the mellow tune 
 That stirs him where he seeks repose 
 On this languorous afternoon, 
 For he by occult art and guile 
 Had brought the maid unto the isle. 
 
 Now goes the demigod to greet 
 
 The bird that he by craft had snared ; 
 Noble his port like one whose seat 
 Is distant from the common herd ; 
 The tattoo that adorns his face 
 Betokens one of highest race. 
 
 Ina perceives him coming o'er 
 
 The grass that bends beneath his tread, 
 But ere he enters in the door 
 
 Behind a screen the maid has fled; 
 His mien expresses majesty 
 And warlike is his piercing eye. 
 
 The drum with Ina's passionate stroke 
 
 Through all its fabric vibrates still, 
 For like a living thing it woke 
 
 When that proud hand made its heart thrill; 
 Long tremors through its fibres creep 
 Ere it again sinks into sleep. 
 282
 
 INA'S VOYAGE TO THE SACRED ISLE 
 
 But vainly looks the demigod 
 
 For her who made the drum vibrate; 
 Brief is the search, careless his nod, 
 For well he weens that soon or late 
 She must be his ; nor can she fly 
 Nor 'scape for long her destiny. 
 
 Then Tinirau, with measured pace, 
 
 Walks from the mansion by the lake, 
 And Ina sees, with burning face, 
 
 His form retreating through the brake. 
 Fond love illumes her dark-brown eyes, 
 Her heart throbs quickly lest the prize 
 
 Should now escape her, for she ne'er 
 Such stately presence saw before, 
 And fain the name of wife would bear 
 To Tinirau, nor leave him more; 
 Swiftly the waves of passion come, 
 Again she strikes the magic drum. 
 
 The grateful tones assail the ear 
 
 Of him for whom those tones were meant, 
 Upon his countenance appear 
 The lights of amorous sentiment ; 
 Nor slow his steps as back he hies, 
 Longing to bask in Ina's eyes. 
 
 O love reciprocal, what bliss 
 
 With thy sweet ecstasy can vie ! 
 To man no greater boon than this 
 Has fallen from the upper sky ; 
 Attracted both by Love's warm flame, 
 Ina Tinirau's wife became. 
 283
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 DRAPED in mist-like fancy's dreams 
 When they drift obscurely by, 
 
 From her lofty home and proud 
 Coming gently from the sky 
 Tairi reached the Earth. 
 
 Sought a moss-besprinkled glade 
 
 In primaeval forest dim, 
 Where the kauri rears its trunk 
 
 Loftily without a limb, 
 
 Then puts on its crown. 
 
 Gaily brawled a pebbly brook 
 'Neath the leafy, green arcade, 
 
 Till it reached a fern-clad rock 
 Where a crystal pool it made, 
 Bathing-place for gods. 
 
 Tairi loved this blest retreat, 
 There to muse in idleness, 
 Watch the lakelet's tranquil face 
 Smiling at her loveliness, 
 Hear the tui's call. 
 284
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 Oft when evening's shadows crept 
 Slowly over mount and fell, 
 
 Tairi's footstep broke the peace 
 
 Nestling in this pretty dell 
 
 Like a quiet bird. 
 
 Perfect was her form and tall, 
 Dark as night her lustrous hair 
 
 Rippling to her nimble feet, 
 Such the garment she did wear 
 Clothing her about. 
 
 Once it happed that, as she bathed, 
 Sporting in the forest pool, 
 
 Giving life and grace unto 
 Its translucent waters cool 
 
 Till they laughed with joy, 
 
 Came Uenuku, youthful chief, 
 Idly rambling through the wood, 
 
 Looking where a snare could be 
 Laid to catch the pigeon brood 
 Drowsing in the trees; 
 
 Snatched a passing glimpse of her 
 Beauty looming through the shade, 
 
 Never had his eyes beheld 
 Such a gladsome, gracious maid, 
 Flushed with love and joy. 
 
 Then he waited, lying prone, 
 On luxurious moss he lay, 
 Till, emerging from the pool 
 Radiant as a summer day, 
 Tairi leaped to land. 
 285
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 Sudden as the lightning's spear 
 Flashes from the sombre cloud 
 
 Rushed Uenuku from his lair, 
 Seized the maiden crying loud, 
 Loud her cries of fear. 
 
 But the chieftain with kind words 
 Calmed the startled maiden's fear, 
 
 Many honied flatteries 
 Offered to her willing ear, 
 
 Much her beauty praised ; 
 
 Asked her to become his wife, 
 Dweller on the daedal earth, 
 
 Leaving the celestial domes, 
 Place of her illustrious birth, 
 For his love and home. 
 
 Swift the wooing in old days 
 When the Maori sought to wed, 
 
 Nor delayed he to invite 
 Love unto the bridal bed, 
 Rapid was the flame. 
 
 Tairi, by such ardour won, 
 To his plea gave kind assent, 
 
 But to Uenuku's warm desire 
 Ere unto his home she went 
 Warning words addressed : 
 
 " Alway through the hours of night 
 
 I shall be your willing bride ; 
 While the stars pursue their course 
 I will linger by your side, 
 Life and love of thine. 
 286
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 " But when streaks of amber light 
 Hint the coming of the dawn, 
 
 Quitting your fond couch I fly 
 Ere the breaking of the morn 
 To my distant home. 
 
 " This shall be our troth and pledge 
 
 Till our son is lusty grown 
 Shall my form and features be 
 
 To the idle world unknown, 
 Nor my name revealed. 
 
 "If by love or pride impelled 
 You shall break this marriage vow, 
 
 Snapt for aye shall be the bond 
 That unites our spirits now, 
 Lonely I depart." 
 
 " Love of mine," Uenuku said, 
 
 " Let the marriage pledge fast bind 
 
 Heart and soul of both until 
 You its mysteries unwind, 
 Such my plighted troth." 
 
 Thus were they in secret wed 
 Unknown to Uenuku's clan, 
 
 And a son to them was born 
 Promise of a noble man 
 Was the beauteous boy. 
 
 Much the people of the tribe 
 
 Marvelled what her name might be 
 Who had borne Uenuku's son 
 In a place of mystery, 
 
 What her rank and tribe. 
 287
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 Long Uenuku kept his troth, 
 Nor revealed the mother's name, 
 
 Till the people's strong desire 
 Burst into a raging flame, 
 Then his heart grew sad. 
 
 " People mine, no longer hid 
 Mother of my child shall be, 
 
 All her beauty and her grace 
 Your enraptured eyes shall see 
 At to-morrow's dawn. 
 
 " Yet I know that, yielding thus, 
 
 I shall rue a bitter fate, 
 Leading me on rugged paths 
 
 Over ways disconsolate, 
 Sad my future days." 
 
 Then with rush and flax he closed 
 Every chink through which the light 
 
 Entered when the morning beams 
 Scared away the foolish night ; 
 Darkened all the house. 
 
 Thus the morn had blossomed when 
 
 Tairi rising from her bed 
 Oped the door to look around 
 
 Ere unto the sky she sped, 
 Saw the wond'ring crowd. 
 
 Lo ! her gentle eyes became 
 
 Glowing wells of angry fire, 
 All her presence larger grew 
 With the fullness of her ire 
 At Uenuku's cheat. 
 288
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 To the cowering man she spoke 
 Bitter words of bitter scorn, 
 
 Words that left a trail that stung, 
 Every word a piercing thorn 
 Wounding his sad heart: 
 
 " Baseborn traitor, dog unclean, 
 Breaker of a solemn troth, 
 
 Wife no more of thine am I, 
 Now I leave thee, nothing loth, 
 Fleeing from my shame." 
 
 Then her form, robed round with mist, 
 
 Rose unto the upper air, 
 Mingled like a summer cloud 
 
 With the unseen atmosphere, 
 Vanishing from view. 
 
 Long Uenuku searched and sought, 
 Vainly wandering, near and far, 
 
 Oft through dangerous regions passed 
 Where the cave-born monsters are, 
 Seeking his lost wife ; 
 
 Prayed the wise tohunga old 
 For a charm of magic power 
 
 By whose aid he might discern 
 
 Where loved Tairi kept her bower, 
 In what clime she dwelt. 
 
 Thus he made a weary quest, 
 
 Never ending till his life 
 Passed unto Te Reinga's shades 
 From the world's perpetual strife, 
 
 Glad he went to rest, 
 u 289
 
 THE MAID OF THE MIST 
 
 Yet 'tis said his spirit chafes 
 Restless in its dim abode, 
 
 Sometimes e'en it strives to mount 
 
 Skyward on the splendid road 
 
 By the rainbow made. 
 
 Looms his form upon the arch 
 Which the sky to dull Earth links 
 
 For a moment, then it fades 
 As the air its colours drinks, 
 Quaffing them away. 
 
 290
 
 THE LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND 
 RAU-MAHORA * 
 
 IN every land beneath the sun 
 
 The fire of love perpetual burns, 
 Its flame may sink awhile, but soon 
 
 The glow unto the hearth returns ; 
 It heeds not rank, nor race, nor creed, 
 
 Nor palace, nor the humble cot, 
 Alike it burns in lands renowned 
 
 And where the savage has his lot. 
 
 Where Taranaki's fern-clad hills 
 
 Look on the smiling, sunlit sea, 
 In days when, clothed in flaxen garb, 
 
 The Maori dwelt in savagery, 
 There lived a chieftain of great fame, 
 
 War-worn and grim with many years 
 Rangirarunga was a name 
 
 That shook the trembling land with fears. 
 
 In his old age there came a flood 
 Of foes from all the country round, 
 
 That drove the chieftain and his tribe 
 Within a fortress' narrow bound ; 
 
 * This legend is said to be a true story. 
 291
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA 
 
 There men heroically died 
 
 With faces set against the foe, 
 Till hunger made its presence felt, 
 
 A spectre stalking to and fro. 
 
 But most were they oppressed with thirst, 
 
 The direst of the ills that rend 
 And rack man's mortal frame, and make 
 
 The spirit to the body bend ; 
 For none, though brave, for many days 
 
 The lack of water can endure ; 
 Delirium seizes on the brain, 
 
 And death, though lingering, is most sure. 
 
 Upon the earthen wall that made 
 
 The pa a fort of strength indeed 
 The chieftain stood, with lofty mien, 
 
 And pride that struggled hard with need. 
 His frame was gaunt ; his face, which bore 
 
 The tattoo of a lineage high, 
 Was thin and pinched with famine's grasp, 
 
 And sunken was his bloodshot eye. 
 
 " O gallant foes," the chieftain cried, 
 
 As he leant on a mighty spear, 
 " Fierce battle have we waged, and blood 
 
 Has washed the country far and near ; 
 And yet again the trump shall sound 
 
 To call us to the deadly fray, 
 Like foemen shall we meet, and bear 
 
 Us bravely through the martial day. 
 292
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA 
 
 " But now sad wives and children faint, 
 
 By want of water sore oppressed, 
 The fire of fever burns their veins, 
 
 And anguish dwells in every breast ; 
 Give us a little water, pray, 
 
 A moment to relieve our pain, 
 Then let the spear again be hurled, 
 
 The din of battle roll again." 
 
 From out the foemen's ranks one came 
 
 Who bore, with careful step and slow, 
 A calabash of water clear, 
 
 A noble gift from foe to foe ; 
 And from the pa's intricate gate, 
 
 Secured by scarp and palisade, 
 The chief approached the enemy, 
 
 And by his side was his dear maid. 
 
 She was the glory of her tribe, 
 
 Her beauty famous near and far : 
 Her eyes were black, but sparkled like 
 
 The gleaming of a splendid star ; 
 Her form was fashioned in the mould 
 
 That Nature used ere art was known, 
 The grace that mingled with her mien 
 
 Belonged unto herself alone. 
 
 But from the Ngatiawa rose 
 Tumultuous cries of discontent, 
 
 And angry words expressing wrath 
 With looks of bitter hate were blent ; 
 293
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA 
 
 Then some rushed forth, and from the man 
 On mercy's kindly errand bound 
 
 They wrenched the calabash and poured 
 The precious water on the ground. 
 
 The suffering chief beheld the crime, 
 
 Nor could his breast repress a groan ; 
 The maiden wept, and from her lips 
 
 There came a feeble husky moan. 
 Yet while the anguish was supreme, 
 
 And hope seemed to have fled the fort, 
 The chief discerned, amidst his foes, 
 
 A warrior youth, of noble port. 
 
 From his broad shoulders proudly hung 
 
 A flaxen mat, of choicest kind, 
 His hand a carven taiaha grasped, 
 
 And softly, waving in the wind, 
 A splendid plume adorned his hair, 
 
 Of heron white, by chieftains worn, 
 For Takarangi was a youth 
 
 Of lofty rank, whom none could scorn. 
 
 O bird of beauty ! bird so rare ! 
 
 O heron of the snowy plume ! 
 Thy race is few, and soon the last 
 
 Shall seek the silence of the tomb ; 
 The world will then have lost for aye 
 
 A dream of loveliness and grace, 
 And man will be the poorer when 
 
 Thou hast departed to thy place. 
 294
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA 
 
 Hope crept once more into the heart 
 
 Of the old chieftain when he saw 
 Brave Takarangi, and perceived 
 
 The youth was one whose word was law; 
 And mastering the pride which still 
 
 Held sway within his aged breast, 
 He rallied his diminished strength, 
 
 And thus the martial youth addressed : 
 
 " O youth, who wear'st the heron's plume 
 
 And emblems of a chieftain's power, 
 Canst thou, by thy commands alone, 
 
 Control thy people in this hour ? 
 For if thou canst, bid them be still, 
 
 And of thy grace, in our sore need, 
 Give us to drink, and thou shalt have 
 
 A warrior's thanks for noble deed." 
 
 Perchance the aged man had sought 
 
 The boon in vain, but that the maid, 
 His daughter Rau-Mahora, stood 
 
 Just by, and with her glances bade 
 The youth respond to mercy's call 
 
 And with a generous bounty give 
 The water that was asked, and thus 
 
 Let her and her old father live. 
 
 For, lo ! the fire of sudden love 
 Was lit in Takarangi's breast, 
 
 Enraptured with the subtle flame 
 He thus the aged man addressed : 
 295
 
 LOVES OF TAKARANGI AND RAU-MAHORA 
 
 " Rangira, I was born to rule, 
 A race of chieftains were my sires, 
 
 My people are my humble slaves, 
 None dare object to my desires." 
 
 Then with the warrior's trumpet voice 
 
 The youth bade all the turmoil cease ; 
 The storm was stayed, none dared rebel, 
 
 And for a season there was peace. 
 He bade a slave himself attend 
 
 And carry water to the chief, 
 The warrior old and maiden drank 
 
 The water brought for their relief. 
 
 Oh happy gift ! Oh splendid boon ! 
 
 To giver and receiver blessed, 
 For in that hour the youth and maid 
 
 Each to the other love confessed. 
 And soon they wed, with pomp and state, 
 
 And thus the toils of war did cease ; 
 Their nuptials made between the tribes 
 
 A treaty of perpetual peace. 
 
 296
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 As long as this bright planet rolls 
 Bearing its freight of human souls 
 Shall fierce and fitful passions burn 
 Within the heart's immortal urn, 
 And men and women love and hate, 
 The playthings of relentless fate ; 
 Or where the Polar Star shines clear 
 And looks upon the Northern Bear, 
 Or where the Southern Cross hangs high 
 Resplendent in the Austral sky, 
 Alike shall men, by women led, 
 The paths of toil and danger tread, 
 And women, bound with cords of love, 
 Shall to men's bidding blindly move. 
 This is a tale of Maori lore 
 Of things that happed in days of yore 
 Ere yet the white man's eye had seen 
 New Zealand's hills and forests green. 
 
 Tama, the chief, a stalwart man, 
 Whose bulk a foe would keenly scan 
 And mark the breadth of his huge chest, 
 The sinews in close knots compressed. 
 But clumsy were his movements, while 
 No graces had he to beguile 
 297
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 The eye of woman, or to move 
 
 Her fancy on the path of love, 
 
 And Rukutia, who had borne 
 
 Him children twain, yet felt some scorn 
 
 Of Tama, for his rugged face 
 
 And body destitute of grace ; 
 
 Though wife she was, and brooked his will, 
 
 She never felt affection's thrill, 
 
 Nor sought to make his troubles less, 
 
 Or to promote his happiness. 
 
 The village rang with merry din, 
 For Tutekoro was within, 
 A visitor who came in state, 
 With pomp belonging to the great ; 
 His garb was rich, demeanour proud, 
 Glancing disdain upon the crowd, 
 His face and mien alike designed 
 To please and flatter womankind, 
 And, much relying on his powers, 
 He sought to while away the hours 
 By many a compliment and jest 
 To Rukutia's self addressed. 
 Thus was her heart by flattery won 
 Before the day's swift course was done. 
 
 A storm of rage from Tama burst 
 When he with much amazement first 
 Learned of his faithless spouse's flight 
 With Tutekoro in the night. 
 But soon the fervid passions' play 
 Unto a sterner mood gave way, 
 298
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 And anxiously his eager brain 
 
 Debated how he might regain 
 
 Possession of the errant wife 
 
 To him still dearer than his life ; 
 
 For well he loved the dame, and grieved 
 
 That he should be by her deceived. 
 
 But dangerous was the quest, and such 
 
 As might a valiant warrior touch 
 
 With terror lest his arms and skill 
 
 Should meet a foe they could not kill ; 
 
 For Tutekoro was adept 
 
 In magic craft, and his mind kept 
 
 Strange knowledge, while he words could say 
 
 That e'en the elements obey. 
 
 When from death's solemn slumber wakes 
 The soul, and all Earth's shackles breaks, 
 It seeks the Reinga's amplitude, 
 The portal of infinitude, 
 Imprisoned 'tween majestic hills, 
 Down whose rude sides flow many rills, 
 A lake displays its spacious breadth 
 Whose waters, never stirred by breath 
 Of cheerful air, lie motionless, 
 As if confined in hard duress. 
 Here roams the soul and suffers change 
 New fashioned by surroundings strange, 
 Until the mundane form is made 
 A body mingled with a shade ; 
 And haply visitors from Earth 
 Proud claimants to distinguished birth, 
 May come to seek their ancient kin 
 For counsel sage and guidance in 
 299
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Some dire extremity which they 
 Are faced with in the upper day. 
 
 It chanced that wandered spirits three 
 Upon the lake's shore pensively, 
 Two parents and a daughter fair 
 Who kinsfolk unto Tama were, 
 When, lo ! across the water flew 
 A large white heron, and it grew 
 More splendid as it nearer came, 
 A living flash of silver flame. 
 The father said, " My daughter, make 
 A forceful charm whereby to break 
 The meaning of this wondrous sight, 
 A heron from the world of light ; 
 Mayhap some kinsman in this guise 
 The Reinga seeks, to grow more wise." 
 Nor was Kohuwai loth, for she 
 Was filled with curiosity, 
 So fashioning a charm she threw 
 It at the heron as it flew. 
 The bird was by the charm oppressed, 
 Such potency the charm possessed, 
 And fluttering down, upon the shore 
 A moment paused ; but then no more 
 A bird appeared, and in its place 
 Stood Tama, destitute of grace. 
 " O Tama," cried the spirits three, 
 Their voices sounding hollowly, 
 " Why com'st thou to this region dim 
 Upon the verge and outer rim 
 Of Reinga, where the light of sun 
 Or moon prevails not, nor can one 
 300
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Behold the stars that stud the sky, 
 Proud watchers o'er man's destiny, 
 But ever broods a twilight grey, 
 Changeless, and seeming dull alway ? " 
 " O kinsfolk mine, know that I come 
 By free will to this region dun, 
 To seek if haply there may be 
 Some charm or royal pharmacy 
 Whose virtue may on me descend, 
 And beauty to my body lend." 
 Thus Tama spake, and marvelled much 
 The spirits, learning that for such 
 A cause he sought the Reinga dread 
 And bloodless phantoms of the dead. 
 " Still must thou journey on," said they, 
 " Still farther leave the upper day, 
 Until thy watchful eyes approve 
 The shadows of a karaka grove ; 
 There Hoko dwells and Ha, whom fate 
 Once ranked amongst the mundane great. 
 Their blood now gives thee life and force, 
 While they pursue a weary course 
 In Reinga who can tell its end, 
 Or whither there the soul shall wend ? 
 But Ha and Hoko have the skill 
 To make thee handsome, if they will." 
 Then Tama felt much joy that he 
 Might yet a handsome warrior be. 
 Upon the wan lake's rocky shore 
 He walked awhile, until before 
 His eyes there suddenly appeared 
 A grove of karaka trees upreared, 
 And waiting there, as if they knew 
 His coming, were those kinsmen two. 
 301
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Then Tama to the ghosts confessed 
 
 The hope whereby his soul was blessed ; 
 
 Nor they disdained what he besought, 
 
 But with a wondrous cunning wrought 
 
 On face and body many a line 
 
 That wound in curve and spiral fine. 
 
 Each handsome feature was revealed 
 
 And ruggedness of face concealed, 
 
 Till Tama stood, with bosom glad, 
 
 In every manly beauty clad ; 
 
 Sharp pains had racked him through and through 
 
 As he endured the sharp tattoo, 
 
 But these were rapidly forgot 
 
 Now he had gained a happier lot. 
 
 Once more he breathed the world's fresh air, 
 Once more stood in the sunshine's glare, 
 Again beheld the Ocean vast, 
 The Present, Future, and the Past. 
 All these he saw with heart elate, 
 Rejoicing at his better state ; 
 And from the Reinga's ghostly bower 
 The rotu's fragrant, mystic flower 
 Whose scent, inhaled, doth always move 
 The bosom to kind thoughts of love, 
 He bore to Earth ; a gift benign 
 Plucked from the Reinga's inner shrine. 
 
 The fire of hope now warmed his breast 
 And filled it with impetuous zest 
 To seek the place where he might find 
 His wife, perchance of other mind 
 Than when from virtue's path she strayed 
 And Tama's loving heart betrayed. 
 302
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 But ere the journey was begun, 
 
 Just at the rising of the sun, 
 
 His soul, in fervid words, did pray 
 
 Unto the Powers exerting sway 
 
 O'er mountains, forests, rivers, all 
 
 That could while travelling him befall, 
 
 To render vain the arts whereby 
 
 That Tutekoro might yet try 
 
 To lay across his path a spell 
 
 And lead him whither none could tell. 
 
 Nor were the Powers offended by 
 
 Such pious pertinacity, 
 
 But gave him conduct, safe and sure, 
 
 And strength all hardships to endure. 
 
 It was an autumn eve, and all 
 The leaves were trembling at the call 
 Of winter, when a stranger came, 
 With tattered garb and unwashed frame, 
 Unto the village in a glade, 
 Protected by rude palisade, 
 Where Tutekoro's clan renowned 
 Dwelt heedless of the foeman round. 
 The folk, deceived by his poor dress 
 And mien of studied humbleness, 
 Deemed him some common churl, whose task 
 Would be what every one might ask, 
 But when his feeble steps they saw 
 They laughter and the gibe forbore. 
 And as the mellow evening light 
 Gave place unto the shades of night 
 The villagers assembled in 
 The large hall, where a merry din 
 303
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Betokened that some festal cheer 
 
 Awaited those expectant there. 
 
 Then Tama squatted down beside 
 
 A carven post, which would him hide 
 
 From the bright light the wood fire made 
 
 As round the logs the red flames played ; 
 
 His heart beat quick when he did hear 
 
 The people shout " O Rukutia, 
 
 Come forth and let your dancing move 
 
 Us to delightful dreams of love ! " 
 
 Then Rukutia, decked and proud, 
 
 Appeared before the eager crowd ; 
 
 With posturings of subtle grace 
 
 And rapid gestures of the face 
 
 She 'gan the dance she danced so well ; 
 
 But Tama cast a sudden spell 
 
 Upon her, and her eyes o'erflowed 
 
 With water as if some great flood 
 
 Of tears had gushed from a full spring 
 
 Where grief lay sadly weltering. 
 
 Then stopped the dance awhile till she 
 
 Could regain equanimity, 
 
 Till, keeping back the tears, she strove 
 
 By every lively step to move 
 
 The company to plaudits loud, 
 
 And gain the suffrage of the crowd. 
 
 'Natheless the tears would come, and still 
 
 She fought against this wondrous ill ; 
 
 At length reluctant left the stage ; 
 
 Her face distorted with fell rage. 
 
 It was the midnight hour, and high 
 The moon hung in the silent sky, 
 304
 
 The owl gave forth a raucous note 
 Proceeding from its inmost throat; 
 Then fearless Tama, who much dared, 
 To Rukutia's house repaired. 
 No longer sordid was his face, 
 The tattoo showed its mazy grace, 
 His dress, by skilful art disposed, 
 The beauty of his form disclosed, 
 And, sitting by the outer door, 
 He pressed the rotu, which he bore 
 From Reinga, till its grateful scent 
 Throughout the spacious dwelling went. 
 A charm he uttered ; then uprose 
 From where she vainly sought repose 
 His wife, and saw his handsome guise, 
 And strong desire leaped in her eyes ; 
 Nor feared she that his love was dead 
 And vengeance filled his soul instead, 
 For well she knew that, in sweet strife, 
 Love for her mingled with his life. 
 " O Tama, husband mine," said she, 
 " Let us from hence together flee ; 
 Oft have I grieved that I thee left, 
 Our children of my care bereft. 
 Much pain and wrong have I endured, 
 My love for Tutekoro cured 
 By stripes and blows that fall alway 
 And arduous toiling, day by day." 
 " Not so," said Tama, " thou must yet 
 Some penance do, lest thou forget 
 How grave thy fault ; how virtue's crown 
 Once in the mud and mire cast down 
 Cannot be worn again at will, 
 But in the mire must wallow still. 
 X 305
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Awhile must them continue here 
 And Tutekoro's shackles wear ; 
 But when my shining sails adorn 
 The azure ocean in the morn, 
 Then boldly plunge into the sea 
 And seek a pathway unto me." 
 Thus Tama spake, and left her there 
 Dejected in the autumn air. 
 
 The many voices of the main 
 Spoke loud in anger, and the rain 
 Released its torrents, while the wind 
 Draggled the tattered clouds behind 
 Its chariot, and the ship that bore 
 Brave Tama to the distant shore, 
 Where dwelt his wife, rolled to and fro 
 As if possessed by some fierce woe ; 
 For by strange arts and spells of might 
 Did Tutekoro strive to blight 
 The journey o'er the ocean plain 
 And make the quest of Tama vain. 
 
 But, lo ! the Powers for Tama fought, 
 And through the tempest safely brought 
 His vessel, till the troubled sea 
 Lay wrapped in soft tranquillity. 
 Then rose the monsters of the deep, 
 The kraken, shark, and things that leap 
 In vast and shapeless mass from out 
 The water in a bubbling rout, 
 And fiercely Tama's ship assailed. 
 But his superior craft prevailed ; 
 The monstrous brood the chieftain feared, 
 And in the abyss disappeared. 
 306
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 Upon a platform high and strong, 
 Lashed fast to posts with many a thong 
 Where safe the people kept their food, 
 One morning Rukutia stood 
 And watched the surges as they leapt 
 Ere rustling o'er the sand they crept ; 
 Then lifting up her eyes perceived, 
 Though doubting she might be deceived, 
 A stranger vessel, coming nigh 
 And nigher as the hours passed by 
 Until its swelling sails shone bright, 
 Resplendent in the sunny light, 
 And Tama, as the fresh winds blew, 
 Was seen to rule the toiling crew. 
 " O people all, my husband see, 
 With shining sails he comes for me," 
 Said Rukutia, and the folk 
 Gathered about her as she spoke. 
 The bark approached till Tama's voice 
 Made Rukutia's heart rejoice ; 
 Then plunging in, with courage high, 
 She clove the great waves fearlessly, 
 Until she felt all danger passed 
 Her hands by those of Tama clasped. 
 
 How strange the passions of the heart ! 
 Fitful they come, and so depart, 
 Resistless is their transient sway, 
 And then repentance has its day. 
 Fierce jealousy a moment filled 
 The soul of Tama, and it thrilled 
 With vengeance, so he took the life 
 Of Rukutia, his own wife ; 
 307
 
 TAMA AND RUKUTIA 
 
 But scarcely had her spirit fled 
 Unto the regions of the dead 
 Than Tama knew what pains remorse 
 Can bring when flowing in full force. 
 The senseless body o'er the main 
 He bore unto his home again, 
 Then in the house a grave he made 
 And to the corse much honour paid, 
 The precious kura wrapped around 
 Ere it was buried in the ground. 
 
 Through the long winter Tama grieved 
 
 Like one who finds himself bereaved 
 
 Of all that erstwhile gave life zest, 
 
 The very fount of happiness ; 
 
 But when the spring leaves 'gan appear 
 
 Hope whispered in his startled ear 
 
 That, by some strange and wondrous chance, 
 
 Awakening from a baleful trance, 
 
 His wife might yet become his mate, 
 
 Reviving from her deathlike state. 
 
 With anxious mind his hands unclosed 
 
 The casket where his love reposed, 
 
 And lo ! upon her face was born 
 
 A smile as welcome as the dawn. 
 
 308
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE SEA BIRDS WITH 
 THE LAND BIRDS 
 
 LONE, beneath the southern sky, 
 Rugged, rocky islands lie ; 
 There the sea, in foamy flakes, 
 O'er the scattered boulders breaks, 
 Sometimes, in an angry mood, 
 Casting up a 'whelming flood, 
 Bearing in its frantic sweep 
 Many spoils from out the deep, 
 While perchance a wind may come 
 From its grim Antarctic home, 
 Bred amid the fields of ice 
 Far beyond the precipice 
 Which the pathless region lone 
 Girdles with a frigid zone. 
 
 In these island solitudes 
 Albatrosses rear their broods, 
 Mollymawk and screaming gull, 
 Solemn penguin, fat and full ; 
 Here the seal, devoid of grace, 
 Finds a quiet resting-place, 
 Basking on the wave-worn rocks 
 At whose base the salt sea knocks. 
 309
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE SEA BIRDS 
 
 Thus it is, and was in days 
 Ere the tattooed Maori's gaze 
 Saw the land that Maui drew, 
 Fishing from his weird canoe, 
 Up from ocean's lowest deeps 
 Where the monstrous kraken creeps, 
 Or the land whose rocky glade 
 Hides the green and precious jade. 
 
 Twas in such primaeval time, 
 
 Ere the world grew to its prime, 
 
 That the ocean birds began 
 
 To debate amongst their clan 
 
 Of their hard and wretched life, 
 
 Passed in unremitting strife, 
 
 Battling with all winds that blow, 
 
 Scorching in the sun's fierce glow, 
 
 All around the watery main 
 
 Spreading wide its barren plain ; 
 
 Bosky dell, nor shade of hill, 
 
 Meadows green, nor rippling rill, 
 
 None of these relieved their lot, 
 
 With no woof of pleasure shot. 
 
 " By what word of adverse Fate 
 
 Are we doomed to this drear state, 
 
 Roaming e'er with tired wings 
 
 While the land bird sits and sings 
 
 Singing with the joy that rolls 
 
 Freely from enraptured souls ? " 
 
 Thus the albatross expressed 
 
 Thoughts that shook the sea-birds' breast. 
 
 310
 
 WITH THE LAND BIRDS 
 
 From the dim horizon came, 
 Like a rushing flood of flame, 
 Feathered legions, great and small, 
 Mad with anger, one and all. 
 Brown and white their pinions were, 
 Staunchly buffeting the air, 
 And the clamour of their wrath 
 Drove the clouds from out their path. 
 Nor were they a lawless horde 
 Gathered by a chance accord, 
 But an army on its way 
 To assail the enemy ; 
 In a phalanx rising high, 
 Rank on rank they clomb the sky, 
 Every tribe in order flew, 
 Each its chosen leader knew, 
 While the albatross was made 
 Sovereign chieftain of the raid. 
 
 When the dews of morning fell, 
 Sparkling in each forest dell, 
 Then the bell bird with its chime 
 Ushered in the sweet daytime, 
 With a clear and silver note 
 Gushing from its joyous throat ; 
 And throughout the summer day, 
 Save when noontide's searching ray 
 Caused the blood to slack its flow 
 For an idle hour or so, 
 Birds of varied hue and size, 
 Music sparkling in their eyes, 
 Twittered, chirruped, full of glee, 
 3"
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE SEA BIRDS 
 
 Oft burst into melody : 
 'Mid the forest trees, immense, 
 Where the clinging vines grow dense, 
 In the rocky glens forlorn, 
 Where the fields of ice are born, 
 On the wind-swept, tussocked plain, 
 Quivering like the ocean main, 
 On the open, fern-clad wold, 
 'Neath a sapphire sky unrolled 
 Everywhere a choric lay 
 Made the country-side seem gay ; 
 While the silent moa was seen 
 Stalking with a royal mien, 
 As if strain with sweet strain blent 
 Were for his own pleasure meant. 
 Since man first by aid of song 
 Sought proud memories to prolong, 
 Battle fierce and din of war, 
 Victory in triumphant car, 
 Themes have been of poets' lays 
 Where heroic deeds have praise, 
 But no pen of poet fired, 
 By the heavenly Muses fired, 
 Could depict in graphic guise 
 Like a scene before the eyes 
 War of land birds with the sea 
 Fighting for the mastery. 
 Feathered hordes obscured the sun, 
 O'er the land hung darkness dun, 
 Raucous cries and screamings shrill 
 Echoed loud from every hill ; 
 Conflict raging, far and near, 
 Earth had never seen its peer. 
 312
 
 WITH THE LAND BIRDS 
 
 Fell at last the wild uproar 
 On the ear of Tangaroa, 
 Mighty lord of land and flood 
 But, supreme, the ocean god. 
 Far beneath the flashing foam 
 Lies his golden palace home ; 
 Man hath never seen his face, 
 Nor his royal path can trace 
 When, enrobed with fleecy mists, 
 Glittering like amethysts, 
 Tangaroa, in his pride, 
 Walks upon the trembling tide. 
 Round him bask the ocean herds, 
 While unnumbered flocks of birds 
 Sailing through the yielding air 
 Bid th' expectant world prepare 
 To pay homage at the nod 
 Of the sovereign ocean god. 
 
 From the utmost depths of sea 
 With impressive majesty 
 Rose the god until he viewed 
 The unpeopled solitude, 
 Vainly seeking with proud glance 
 The birds who owed allegiance ; 
 But from off the distant shore 
 Came the angry hum of war, 
 Clangour of the fowl enraged, 
 War by sea on land birds waged, 
 Horrid shriekings, strident cries, 
 Reaching to the azure skies. 
 313
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS 
 
 Then his brows in wrath were knit, 
 His great eyes fierce anger lit, 
 While the tumult of his breast 
 Was in thund'rous words expressed : 
 " Back, ye recreant sea fowls, come, 
 Back unto your ocean home, 
 Fate has given you to the sea, 
 Such your lot and destiny, 
 Hope not to escape what throes 
 Powers above you may impose 
 Every creature has its thorn 
 In its secret bosom worn ; 
 Your first duty to appear 
 When I breathe the upper air, 
 And my guard be while I stay 
 Moving in the light of day. 
 Quickly to your posts return, 
 Lest my wrath more fiercely burn, 
 And you suffer direst woe 
 Such as all the world shall know." 
 
 Lo ! the noise of many wings 
 And the shades of flying things, 
 Cries repentant, cries of fear, 
 Filled and shook the atmosphere. 
 
 314
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 THROUGHOUT the compass of the Maori land 
 
 The fame of Tinirau was trumpeted ; 
 
 He was a chieftain of a noble stock, 
 
 The gallant leader of his tribe in war, 
 
 And handsome as the golden sun at noon, 
 
 Apollo of his race. Stately of mien, 
 
 He walked a prince amongst the herd of men, 
 
 By Nature fashioned for supreme command. 
 
 In her far-distant dwelling Hina heard 
 
 The murmur of his fame, but most her thoughts 
 
 Dwelt on his much-praised beauty, till her heart 
 
 Felt hungry for his presence, and desire 
 
 Grew up and blossomed. Then she knew no rest, 
 
 Nor ceased to dream and dream how she might gain 
 
 The prize on which her longing heart was set ; 
 
 For she was skilled in those recondite arts 
 
 That men impute to bad and evil souls 
 
 And yet would fain possess : the wizard power 
 
 To penetrate behind the awful veil 
 
 That parts the seen from the invisible 
 
 And hides strange wonders ; the power to weave and 
 
 weave 
 
 Spells strong and potent to achieve an end. 
 So Hina, filled with fire of Tinirau, 
 A journey made unto a pleasant grove 
 Where fern trees overhung pellucid pools 
 Of waveless water, crystal clear, and deep, 
 
 315
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 Whose polished surface mirrored like a glass 
 The lineaments of every living thing 
 That gazed a moment there ; in number three, 
 Each pool was bordered by a mossy frame, 
 And here and there a rustic seat enjoined 
 The idler to recline in grateful ease. 
 Full oft by Tinirau this spot was sought 
 That he might view his perfect form and face 
 Reflected in the water, drinking joy 
 From his own beauty ; and a pride welled up 
 And overflowed his soul when he beheld 
 The perfect image of himself revealed. 
 But Hina, reaching this umbrageous haunt, 
 With eager foot and palpitating breast, 
 Was baulked awhile of what she most desired, 
 For sullen slaves alone were idling there. 
 Then she, pretending madness, 'gan to break 
 The rustic seats and wildly tear the moss 
 From off the trees, and thrilled the placid air 
 With frantic cries. The timid slaves, deceived, 
 Made haste to warn their master of the fray, 
 While Hina, flushed and joyful at her ruse, 
 Arranged her flaxen garments with a grace 
 Alluring and refined. Her jet-black hair 
 Was bound in wavy tresses, and she stood 
 The model of a woman ripe and fair, 
 Who wiUing waits the man for her designed, 
 And, standing thus, was found by Tinirau. 
 Their love was sudden as the rush of day 
 In tropic climes, for they twin souls were born 
 When Venus' star illumed the ebon sky ; 
 Ambrosial hours they gave to converse sweet, 
 Nor were they by the pangs of hunger driven
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 To leave the shelter of this bower of love, 
 For Hina by enchantment made a feast, 
 Rich and profuse, brought from the viewless air 
 By spirits who were servants of her craft, 
 Themselves invisible to Tinirau. 
 And so they revelled, and their hearts were gay, 
 Nor heeded lest their merriment should be 
 To others but the wormwood and the gall. 
 When jealousy awakes wild storms of wrath 
 And passion fills the breast, then reason flies 
 And murder stalks red-handed 'mid the strife. 
 The slighted wives of Tinirau, who erst 
 Had tasted all his love, but now were left 
 Alone to brood upon their bitter wrongs, 
 Made common cause against a common foe, 
 The twain devoting Hina unto death ; 
 And when their lord had quitted her awhile 
 They fell upon her suddenly with clubs 
 To beat her life away. But she, forewarned 
 By some familiar sprite, with magic power 
 O'ercame their earthly weapons, and they died. 
 
 It was the twilight hour when sober peace 
 Makes tranquil happiness, and Hina sat 
 Beside the whare while her little child 
 With many gambols played, and Tinirau 
 Mused what the future of his son might be. 
 More quickly beat the father's heart as thoughts 
 Of how the boy might gain a warrior's fame 
 And great renown amongst the peoples round 
 Surged in his brain ; the future years loomed bright 
 With lustre shed from Glory's rising star. 
 Alas ! our happiness is oft a dream, 
 317
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 A fleeting vision ; gone, ere scarcely seen ; 
 
 And such the luckless fate of Tinirau, 
 
 For slowly came across the azure sea 
 
 A strange-shaped phantom. Like a giant owl 
 
 In form it seemed ; in substance but a mist, 
 
 Impalpable, and sparkling to the eye. 
 
 So drifting onward soon it came to rest, 
 
 While from its dim penumbra there emerged 
 
 A man whose face to Hina's was akin. 
 
 " Rupe, my brother," was her startled cry, 
 
 Half joyful, yet replete with secret fear, 
 
 Not comprehending his most weird disguise. 
 
 Then Tinirau, though much foreboding ill 
 
 From Rupe's visit and the strangeness of 
 
 His coming from the sea, 'natheless proffered 
 
 The welcome that the Maori chieftain gives 
 
 To such as please him well, and so they spent 
 
 In converse many an hour until deep sleep, 
 
 By Rupe's art from clouds of darkness brought, 
 
 Oppressed the chieftain's brain ; and when he woke 
 
 The sun was shining and the birds were gay, 
 
 But Hina and her much-loved son were gone. 
 
 The dolphin wallowed in the sounding sea, 
 
 The splendid dolphin that enshrined the soul 
 
 Of Tutunui, mighty chief of yore, 
 
 Renowned progenitor of Tinirau. 
 
 The dolphin wallowed in the sounding sea, 
 
 And, mounted on his back, the chief bereaved 
 
 Sought Hina and the child. 
 
 About him flew the seagulls that obeyed 
 
 His signified behests ; the spirits they 
 
 Of warriors of his tribe, whose bones were laid
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 To rest, and slept in peace their final sleep ; 
 But still their souls lived on, for what can quench 
 The fire that animates the human soul ? 
 The seagulls mewed, and screamed their mournful cries, 
 Their hoarse wails echoing o'er the barren deep, 
 And now and then, as from the verdant land 
 The curling smoke uprose, the sign of men, 
 The flock together flew unto the shore, 
 Looking for Hina but the search was vain. 
 Thus passed the weary days, and Tinirau 
 Despondent grew, and feared lest he no more 
 Should see his loves. But, lo ! a prodigy 
 Awakened hope. From out the rising dawn 
 A pearl-clad creature, with translucent sails, 
 Came floating o'er the surface of the vast 
 Cerulean ocean ; it was a nautilus, 
 But huge in size, as in primaeval times, 
 When Earth, as yet by man untenanted, 
 On sea and land gave birth to living things 
 Colossal. Onward it slowly sailed 
 And gleamed resplendent in the morning sun, 
 A fairy vision from another world. 
 Nigh unto Tinirau it drew, and he 
 Beheld upon this frail and wondrous bark 
 An erstwhile comrade on the field of war ; 
 Kae was his name, his lineage long and high. 
 Most welcome was his face to Tinirau, 
 Each to the other soon his story told, 
 And Tinirau gave play unto his grief, 
 Bewailed the fate which from his side had reft 
 His wife and child, thus leaving him forlorn. 
 " O friend of mine, take thou my nautilus, 
 And let it waft thee o'er the throbbing sea, 
 
 319
 
 TINIRAU AND HINA 
 
 Its wisdom's great ; and it shall bear thee safe 
 Unto the land where now thy loved ones dwell." 
 Such were the words of Kae ; and Tinirau, 
 Made captain of the pearl-clad nautilus, 
 Yielded his dolphin to the care of Kae. 
 So parted they ; each one unto his quest. 
 Hope whispered to the heart of Tinirau, 
 That soon the wheel of Fate again would turn 
 And wife and child be unto him restored. 
 So Tinirau composed this chant and sang, 
 His voice resounding o'er the spacious deep : 
 " Loved one, thy voice is chiming in my heart, 
 Its tones are tingling in my ravished ears ; 
 Though we in body may be far apart, 
 Yet still I feel thy spirit hovering near." 
 Night slowly drew its dusky mantle o'er 
 The sky's exalted dome. Unnumbered gems 
 Relieved its blackness, while the ocean rose 
 And fell as if with life endued, 
 Slow-driven by a cool and gentle breeze. 
 The quaint and living craft bore on the chief 
 Not knowing where he went ; but calm through faith 
 That destiny had shot her bolt, and soon 
 He would behold the forms to him so dear. 
 The depths of ocean gleamed with many fires, 
 A flaming wake broke from the nautilus 
 As it skimmed o'er and clove the heaving sea. 
 So passed the night, and then the morning bloomed 
 And spread its colours o'er a foreign coast ; 
 With joyous acclamation screamed the gulls 
 As headland after headland opened full, 
 Nor had the sun attained the highest noon 
 Ere the long quest of Tinirau had ceased. 
 
 320
 
 MARAMA AND INA 
 
 IN the ages that have vanished 
 
 Down the deep abyss of Time, 
 Where the memory of men's actions 
 
 Passes like a fleeting chime, 
 Oft some deity descended 
 
 From the mansions of the sky, 
 And the blood of men was blended 
 
 With blood of divinit)'. 
 
 Shapely are the island maidens, 
 
 And their black eyes, laughing, gleam 
 Like the sun's reflected radiance 
 
 Flashing from a mountain stream. 
 Fairest of them all was Ina, 
 
 Daughter of a royal race, 
 Many a noble youth had wooed her, 
 
 Worshipping her smiling face ; 
 But her heart, though often yielding, 
 
 From love's meshes still was free, 
 For she heard a voice resounding, 
 
 Promising high destiny. 
 Then the spirit of her fathers 
 
 Stirred the pulses of her blood, 
 And love's pleadings were forgotten 
 
 'Mid ambition's torrent flood. 
 321
 
 MARAMA AND INA 
 
 In his silver palace lonely 
 
 Sat Marama, moon god, there 
 Viewing his dominions, glorious 
 
 Monarch of the upper air 
 Saw the old Earth marching slowly 
 
 Through the dusky realms of night 
 Onward to the pure and holy 
 
 Region of sunlight, 
 And beheld where Ina wandered 
 
 Musing on the ocean shore 
 With the mien of one who pondered 
 
 On a lofty fate in store. 
 Fell the mighty breakers, sweeping 
 
 All the beach with sheets of flame, 
 Wave on wave successive creeping 
 
 Nigh and nigher to her came ; 
 But her footsteps hesitated, 
 
 While love made her bosom warm, 
 And night's shadows palpitated 
 
 At the beauty of her form. 
 Then a 'whelming flood of passion 
 
 Flushed the god's immortal breast, 
 As the sun in tropic mornings 
 
 Sudden shows his flaming crest, 
 And Marama, dight with splendour, 
 
 Rising from his star-girt throne, 
 With a wondrous radiance clothed her 
 
 Walking on the beach alone. 
 Down the slopes of Heaven with stately 
 
 Steps he travelled to the isle, 
 To the maiden whom he laboured 
 
 With soft flatteries to beguile 
 Told to her the old, sweet story 
 322
 
 MARAMA AND INA 
 
 Spoke by man in woman's ear 
 Since the days of Eden's glory 
 
 When love filled the atmosphere. 
 Nor in vain the monarch pleaded, 
 
 For the glamour of his tongue 
 Through the chambers of her feelings 
 
 With seductive cadence rung. 
 Thus the god, by passion driven, 
 
 Came to Earth to woo the maid, 
 And the glory of his presence 
 
 Made the people much afraid. 
 To the ebon sky translated, 
 
 On soft clouds of silver borne, 
 There was lovely Ina mated 
 
 To Marama, moon god lorn. 
 
 323
 
 INA 
 
 THE wondrous Heaven, where time and space are not, 
 Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars, nor night, nor morn, 
 But rapture welling from its very spring, 
 And light celestial giving happiness, 
 Gleamed full and clear. A meadow oped its lawn 
 Profusely strewn with flowers of asphodel, 
 And there amidst the bloom and verdure stood 
 Ina, the goddess touched with human love 
 That yet impaired not her diviner self, 
 And, gazing on her face, the man whom she 
 Had chosen in the heyday of his prime 
 To be her husband ; thus was mortal wed 
 To an immortal dwelling with the gods. 
 But now his hair was grey, his beauty fled, 
 And age with sordid trappings wrapped him round, 
 While Ina glowed with everlasting youth. 
 " The fateful hour is come," the goddess said, 
 " Whose sombre expectation has oft mixed 
 A little bitter in a cup of joy, 
 And we can meet no more ; for thou and I, 
 Though joined in happy union for a while, 
 Must henceforth in our separate orbits move. 
 Soon wilt thou have fulfilled thy tale of what 
 By mortals years are called, and thou wilt die, 
 Descending to the shades of nether worlds, 
 
 324
 
 INA 
 
 Where darkness looms, and forms impalpable ; 
 But my divine and endless being holds 
 The gift of countless aeons, and shall sail 
 Perpetually an ocean of delight, 
 Yet we have loved as men and women love 
 And quaffed a nectar mingling Earth and sky, 
 Dreamed our sweet dreams, and lived a single life 
 If our communings can be called a life. 
 To me a transient pleasure has accrued, 
 A fresh delight, and it shall be for aye 
 A memory dear ; to thee a glorious boon 
 That ne'er before had been vouchsafed to man 
 Since first the world by Tane was revealed." 
 " Loved Ina," spake the man whose name is hid 
 Amidst the clouds and darkness of the Past, 
 While only comes to us the memory of his lot 
 " The shadow of this dreadful hour has long 
 Flecked o'er my path ; though oft by me forgot 
 Amidst the soft allurements of thy love, 
 Yet still returning when I mused alone. 
 But I have breathed with thee the subtle air 
 That feeds the spirit of the gods, and thus 
 Can bear unflinchingly the stroke of Fate." 
 Then, by the goddess fashioned, leapt a bow 
 Convex from sky to land, a wondrous road 
 With colours blazoned o'er its arched length ; 
 Such was the road resplendent Ina made 
 For her reluctant husband to descend 
 Unto the seagirt isle where he was born. 
 One last embrace he took, and saw the eyes 
 Of Ina, lustrous, gleaming, flushed with tears, 
 Rebelling from necessity's decree, 
 Then down the dazzling road unwilling went 
 
 325
 
 INA 
 
 Until his sad and laggard feet had reached 
 
 His boyhood's home. 
 
 The palm trees rustled in the evening breeze, 
 
 The village slept beside the tree-clad hill, 
 
 The surf fell softly on the coral shore, 
 
 All things seemed fashioned as in days of yore. 
 
 326
 
 THE MAEROERO* 
 
 STRANGE were the folk of the forest, 
 
 A fleeting, invisible band, 
 Strange were their voices that murmured 
 
 In the depths of the sylvan land. 
 
 No man ever saw them in being, 
 Nor their fashion nor size could tell, 
 
 But their ways and manner of life 
 The birds of the forest know well. 
 
 No traveller ever perchance 
 Their secrets discerned by surprise, 
 
 Fern seed was the victual that gave 
 Them concealment from mortal eyes. 
 
 Heard were the sounds of Maeroero, 
 
 The voices of young and of old, 
 When Wakatip's mountains untrod 
 
 The mists of the morn did enfold. 
 
 * The ancient Maoris believed that in the recesses of the 
 forest dwelt mysterious beings whom no man had seen, although 
 their voices were often heard. The Maoris' ideas of the nature 
 of these beings were vague, but the forest dwellers seem to 
 have been regarded as akin to man. 
 
 327
 
 THE MAEROERO 
 
 Their voices in scattered tones fell 
 
 Like gems dropping down from the sky ; 
 
 Unknown was the language they spake, 
 But its music was born of a sigh. 
 
 Did the Maeroero spring from Earth, 
 Or children were they of the air, 
 
 Haunting mountain and forest awhile, 
 Then departing for realms more fair ? 
 
 Perchance from th' uncounted hosts 
 Who inhabit the spaces that reach 
 
 From planet to planet, and hear 
 The surge on the Sun's gleaming beach, 
 
 Some wandering spirits may come 
 
 To visit the Earth for a time, 
 Repose 'mid the green of its woods 
 
 Made glad by the tui's sweet chime. 
 
 328
 
 THE MAORIS' EMIGRATION FROM 
 HAWAIKI 
 
 NIGH the carven prows stood 
 
 With a frenzy possessed 
 The priest whose warm blood 
 
 Trickled fast from his breast, 
 
 And the vessels in various devices and ochreous colours 
 were drest. 
 
 'Twas a time of great woe, 
 
 And vague oracles spake 
 That much people must go 
 
 To the southward and make 
 
 New homes in the land of Te Kupe, in the land of the 
 forest and lake. 
 
 Nor was silent the voice 
 
 That appeals to the souls 
 Of such as rejoice 
 
 When the drum of war rolls 
 
 And the hope of adventure upsprings though the 
 fateful bell of death tolls. 
 
 To the sea-god he prayed, 
 
 While the people hard by 
 Saw the smoke from the glade 
 
 Stealing up to the sky 
 
 From Tangaroa's altar whose flames gleamed with 
 lustre that dazzled the eye. 
 329
 
 MAORIS' EMIGRATION FROM HAWAIKI 
 
 And the priest, in his trance, 
 
 Deemed the omen was good 
 When, lifting his glance 
 
 From the place where he stood, 
 
 He saw, from the deep sea uprising, an albatross stately 
 and good. 
 
 On the white, coral strand 
 
 By the creamy waves swept ; 
 On the rim of the land 
 
 Where the sea urchins crept, 
 
 The keelless canoes were assembled, for a voyage in 
 readiness set. 
 
 Far o'er the wide ocean 
 
 The seagulls were circling, 
 Unceasing their motion 
 
 Their voices aye skirling, 
 
 The body-guard they of Tangaroa great when from 
 the deep whirling 
 
 Through the white, boiling foam 
 
 Like a mountain upborne 
 He views the vast dome 
 
 Of Te Rangi, and lorn 
 
 Wild waste of blue water whose breast by the hands 
 of the breezes is torn. 
 
 By the charms the priest sang 
 
 Were the listeners stirred, 
 And their throbbing hearts sprang 
 To the words which they heard, 
 
 While their shouts affrighted the welkin where the 
 Sun his gold raiment did gird. 
 330
 
 MAORIS' EMIGRATION FROM HAWAIKI 
 
 And the women kept time 
 
 In a swift-changing dance, 
 In alternate rhyme 
 
 They retreat, then advance, 
 
 Their lithe bodies swaying and panting as they sought 
 their charms to enhance. 
 
 When the rites were complete 
 
 The canoes were set free, 
 Like dolphins the fleet 
 
 Sought the arms of the sea, 
 
 The waters bore proudly the parents of a numerous 
 people to be. 
 
 To the southward they sailed 
 
 O'er the track of the Sun, 
 As Te Rangi it scaled 
 
 Till the zenith was won, 
 
 Like a man who by toil and endeavour a mighty achieve- 
 ment hath done. 
 
 For ever departed 
 
 Hawaiki was gone, 
 From those gallant-hearted 
 
 Adventurers torn, 
 
 But in the bright hues of the morning new lands and 
 new wonders were born.
 
 A STORY OF MANGAIA* 
 
 AMONGST the sunny islands that begem 
 The vast Pacific, which unceasingly 
 With thunderous and swelling organ peals 
 Its diapason round the Southern globe, 
 Mangaia gleams. The light of Christian faith 
 Now floods its verdant hills, sweet peace prevails 
 And man holds forth a friendly hand to man ; 
 But in the days of yore, ere men grew wise, 
 And heathen gods throughout the island reigned, 
 Rapine and slaughter ofttimes stalked abroad, 
 While hill and valley echoed with the shout 
 That greets the cannibal's inhuman feast. 
 
 Full many a moon had looked with lustrous eye, 
 
 Compassionate, upon a little band, 
 
 Sole remnant of a tribe that once could rank 
 
 A thousand warriors when the battle rolled, 
 
 But now well-nigh extinct through bloody war, 
 
 Who in a secret cavern hid themselves 
 
 By day from those who hungered for their lives, 
 
 And in the shades of night made haste to glean 
 
 A meagre sustenance from berries harsh 
 
 Or such rude fare as could be gathered near 
 
 Their rugged home. Perchance, by famine drive 
 
 * Mangaia is an island of the Hervey Group. 
 332
 
 A STORY OF MANGAIA 
 
 Some spirit bold, with cautious step and slow, 
 Crept to the rocky coast, and cast a lure 
 Into a quiet haven where the fish 
 Might readily become the angler's prey. 
 
 The sun had set, the curtains of the eve 
 Were drawn across the portals of the sky, 
 While o'er the dim and far horizon peered 
 A giant moon, when issuing from the cave 
 Inangaro, the chief, roamed through a grove 
 Looking for berries. Lo ! just at its marge, 
 Where tree and herbage wed, a basket filled 
 With luscious taro met his famished gaze. 
 Fierce thought and rapid stirred his busy brain, 
 How to secure the precious food and yet 
 Escape detection. To steal the taro, 
 Then seek swift covert, or slay the owner, 
 Alike would warn the foe that Teipe's clan 
 Was lingering still amongst the tribes of Earth. 
 As thus he turned the chances o'er and o'er, 
 Nor could devise a plan to gain his end, 
 A maid approached with joyous step and light 
 To claim the basket laid aside while she 
 Engaged in merry chatter with her kind. 
 Then Inangaro, with tongue mellifluous, 
 Flattered the startled girl, nor spared to praise 
 Her many charms, and told his sorry lot, 
 Till love and pity melted her kind heart 
 And she to him the welcome taro gave 
 With many a pledge that from her father's tribe 
 She would the secret keep. Then they exchanged 
 Love tokens. For swiftly as the tropic sun 
 Leaps up the morning sky and floods the world 
 333
 
 A STORY OF MANGAIA 
 
 With burning rays, so love in torrid climes 
 
 Ardent and sudden flushes man and maid. 
 
 Yet though they plighted troth they still were twain 
 
 Love to Inaango was the purest bliss 
 
 But to Inangaro it meant more food. 
 
 So weeks passed by, and still Inaango came, 
 
 Nor ever failed to bring the welcome food 
 
 Of which the fugitives alike partook, 
 
 For they by common danger were beset, 
 
 And common stock was made of all they gained. 
 
 But misery often in the train of love 
 Follows with silent step. And so it happed. 
 For Ngaae, brother of Inangaro, 
 And younger, wandered forth one fateful day 
 And sought a gloomy ravine where the dim 
 Weird forest clothed the shattered rocks 
 And made strange twilight ; there, in solitude 
 (So deemed by him), he roamed, and eager plucked 
 Pandanus fruit, a coarse and scanty fare ; 
 Until he came unto a banyan tree 
 Whose many-columned trunks and snaky roots 
 Were scattered o'er a wondrous space of ground. 
 Beside it stood a girl, who blithely sang 
 As with deft hand she stripped the fibrous bark 
 That woven with rare skill would make the rude 
 Barbaric garments worn throughout the isle. 
 Kurauri was her name, and in the days 
 When peace prevailed and she was but a child 
 Ofttimes had she and little Ngaae played 
 And romped together, bubbling o'er with fun, 
 But now she numbered Ngaae with the dead, 
 Slain with his clan. So when the playmates met 
 
 334
 
 A STORY OF MANGAIA 
 
 Surprise and pleasure flushed her merry face, 
 And Ngaae felt his blood grow warm again. 
 Delightful was their converse ; much they talked 
 Of happy days of childhood, when they recked 
 Not of the morrow, but spent joyful hours 
 Gay as the murmurings of a sunlit brook. 
 Nor was the food that Kurauri had brought 
 Refreshment for the intervals of toil 
 The less enjoyed because of bygone days. 
 The sun was sinking low ere Kurauri 
 Spake her farewell, but made another tryst, 
 'Twas thus by women twain these hunted men 
 Obtained relief, and yet they had been blessed 
 If such relief had never them befell ; 
 For when Inangaro saw Kurauri 
 The flame of ardent love sprang up and flashed 
 Within his breast, and day by day it waxed 
 In strength, until the flambent courses filled 
 His inmost being. Then Ngaae, younger born, 
 Left to his brother what he most desired 
 (Such was the custom of the olden time), 
 And so Kurauri brought a train of woe. 
 It chanced one day that when Inaango came 
 Well laden with the welcome provender 
 Some fish just captured by her skilful hands 
 Unto the cavern which the remnant clan 
 Had made their home, she found Kurauri there; 
 Nor did the wit that sharpens women's minds 
 When they pursue the devious paths of love 
 Fail to perceive that oft Inangaro 
 And Kurauri were kind, and thus disclosed 
 A sweet intelligence between the two. 
 Swift come the mordant pangs of jealousy 
 335
 
 A STORY OF MANGAIA 
 
 A spasm crossed Inaango's handsome face, 
 But vanished in bright smiles, nor e'er a sign 
 Betrayed the lurking devil in her heart. 
 " Farewell to all," she said ; " be safety yours, 
 And happy days and nights for you in store." 
 Her loving looks dwelt on Inangaro, 
 And issuing to the open she was gone. 
 Nor long her vengeance slumbered or was still, 
 For scarce the morning's sun again uprose 
 Ere rang the cavern with the raucous shouts 
 And warlike yells of fierce and barbarous men. 
 Tumultuous rushed the horde into the cave, 
 Thirsting for slaughter. Useless to relate 
 The dread encounter, or how each was slain ; 
 Some fighting manfully, some clubbed to death 
 Helpless and slow awakening from their sleep, 
 The life was battered from the fugitives 
 Save Ngaae alone. He Kurauri prayed 
 Might be her husband while he was her slave, 
 The guerdon of her wild and jealous deed. 
 'Twas thus the clan of Teipe passed away 
 Like leaves before the roaring hurricane, 
 Save Ngaae, but his lot was hard, for he, 
 A chief, was ruled when he himself should rule, 
 And made a woman's slave ignoble fate ! 
 
 336
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOAS 
 
 THE voices of the sea were heard afar 
 From where the waves broke o'er the sandy bar, 
 And sweeping onward, clad in robes of foam, 
 In lines of flashing surges, comb on comb, 
 They sank to rest upon the peaceful strand 
 That fringed the coast of a green Southern land. 
 
 To all the world but some few men alone 
 
 It was a land untravelled and unknown, 
 
 Its people sparse and scattered here and there, 
 
 Their dwellings grouped in hamlets rude and rare 
 
 A barbarous race, whom uncouth vessels bore, 
 
 By war expelled, from Hawaiki's shore. 
 
 Few years had passed since first the Maoris viewed 
 
 Zealandia's forests, clothed with solitude, 
 
 Nor knew they yet what creatures fierce or strange 
 
 Might in ravine, o'er mountain, or through forest range ; 
 
 They saw the steam from boiling geysers rise 
 
 In fleecy clouds ascending to the skies, 
 
 The grim volcano smoked, and oft a sound 
 
 Reverberated 'neath the trembling ground. 
 
 Lo ! Earth has many marvels, and the sea 
 
 Is but a casket filled with mystery. 
 
 The voices of the sea came from afar 
 In muffled roarings, where the morning star 
 Z 337
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOAS 
 
 Looked on a lofty mount, whose rugged form 
 
 Was scarred and battered by the frequent storm. 
 
 One flank shot up, a sheer and dizzy wall, 
 
 That none could clamber e'en a goat would fall ; 
 
 And at its foot, half-hid by trees and fern, 
 
 A cavern's open mouth yawned wide and stern. 
 
 Within the rock, by many a devious way, 
 
 And passages scarce 'lumined by the day, 
 
 It led to chambers, rich with stalactite, 
 
 Fantastic gleaming in a chastened light. 
 
 Their fretted roofs, which dimly loomed on high, 
 
 Seemed but a vision and a fantasy, 
 
 A floating dream, replete with glories wan, 
 
 The canopy of Oberon. 
 
 Here dwelt the last of an illustrious race 
 
 Of noble birth, unmatched in strength and grace ; 
 
 Their forms were fashioned from a giant stock 
 
 Whence sprang in Eastern climes the mighty roc. 
 
 Once in vast flocks they roamed the tussocked plain, 
 
 Or swelling down, or where the hills again 
 
 Gave luscious pasture ; and the feathered host 
 
 Filled all the land with pride, from coast to coast ; 
 
 But as the sluggish centuries passed away 
 
 So waned the moa in numbers, fitfully, 
 
 Then died apace, like leaves that fall from trees 
 
 When freshly soughs the chilly Autumn breeze, 
 
 Until at last one kingly bird alone 
 
 Was left to mourn his ancient line o'erthrown. 
 
 Full oft the Maori saw the bird afar, 
 At early dawn or when the evening star 
 
 338
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOAS 
 
 Peeped gently from the slowly darkening sky 
 And gazed upon the globe with modest eye, 
 Depasturing near its home ; with stately tread 
 The moa roamed abroad, and oft its head 
 Was proudly raised, and then with royal mien 
 It looked the sovereign of the whole terrene. 
 Hard by the kumi dread ; no eye could brook 
 The flaming terror of his wrathful look ; 
 The monarch he of all the reptile brood, 
 In size like such as lived before the flood ; 
 His port was that of some majestic seer 
 Who dwells amid a sacred atmosphere ; 
 In distant age the horoscope was drawn, 
 Ere yet the kumi or the moa was born, 
 By which their destinies were made but one 
 To end together when life's work was done. 
 
 The Maori saw them, but had never heard 
 The voice of kumi or of wondrous bird. 
 If voice they had none fell on human ears, 
 For, yielding to the tremor of their fears, 
 Nor man, nor woman, e'er approached the spot 
 Where bird and beast fulfilled their destined lot ; 
 They seemed but shadows and the loom of things, 
 Dim visions born of vague imaginings. 
 
 Strange creatures, coming from we know not whence, 
 
 A season flitting o'er the world's expanse ! 
 
 Like cloudlets drifting o'er the boundless sky, 
 
 Awhile partaking of its destiny, 
 
 Then growing dim they melt in space away, 
 
 And leave the world for ever and for aye. 
 
 339
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 MAUI, demigod and sprite, 
 
 Darkness mingled with the light, 
 
 Author of diablerie, 
 
 Mischief and strange fantasy, 
 
 Skilled in knowledge dread and weird, 
 
 Magic arts by all men feared ; 
 
 Sometimes woke the god, and then 
 
 Maui blessed the race of men, 
 
 With rich wisdom and fell power 
 
 Helped them in the darkest hour. 
 
 Cradled in the ocean foam, 
 
 Such was Maui's infant home, 
 
 And the monsters of the deep 
 
 Rocked him in sea wrack to sleep ; 
 
 Safe the sea-wolf passed him by, 
 
 Seafowl sang his lullaby ; 
 
 Earth and ocean fashioned him, 
 
 But a fire divine within 
 
 Made great thoughts and fancies roll 
 
 Through the chambers of his soul. 
 
 This a legend that was told 
 
 In the Maori days of old, 
 
 How that Maui's diablesse 
 
 Succoured man in dire distress. 
 
 
 
 On the people's faces lay 
 Lines of care and sore dismay, 
 340
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 For but now they saw expire 
 
 Embers of their only fire. 
 
 All the country was distressed 
 
 By unnumbered fears oppressed ; 
 
 Men were ignorant and rude, 
 
 And they cooked their barbarous food 
 
 With fires lit by brands they bore 
 
 From old fires that flamed before, 
 
 Untutored yet to cunningly 
 
 Chase the spark from out the tree. 
 
 Fierce Despair its leaden hand 
 
 Placed upon the gloomy land. 
 
 Lo ! a pigeon clove the air 
 Beautiful beyond compare ; 
 Lustrous gleamed each splendid hue 
 As on sun-kissed wings it flew 
 Onwards, onwards, lightly borne 
 By the winds to caves forlorn, 
 Portals of the realms that lie 
 Shadowed by Death's canopy. 
 Masking thus, in feathered guise, 
 From the ken of human eyes, 
 Maui boldly sought to wrest 
 From the lower world's dark breast 
 Knowledge that mankind had not 
 How that fire could be begot. 
 Soon a precipice shot high, 
 Towering to the sunny sky, 
 At its foot a cavern gaped, 
 Brambles rough the entrance draped. 
 Deftly flew the wily bird, 
 Scarce its subtle wings were heard 
 341
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 As a devious way it made 
 To the cavern's awful shade. 
 Faltered not its pinions' beat 
 When it saw the dread retreat ; 
 Onward ! onward ! down the cave, 
 Whose resonant echoes gave 
 Voice unto the pigeon's flight 
 Drifting slowly from the light. 
 Tortuous was the cave and long, 
 Days uncounted flowed along 
 While the bird its course pursued 
 With a generous thought imbued ; 
 Till from out the dark it swirled, 
 Plunged into the nether world. 
 Casting off his bird-like guise, 
 Proudly stood Maui the wise, 
 Reared erect a giant frame, 
 Flashed his eyes of glowing flame, 
 Then the ghostly realm he strode 
 Where the souls of chiefs abode. 
 
 Lo, the sacred manapou ! 
 Sacred every leaf and bough ! 
 Tree whose vast, umbrageous head 
 Shades the meadows of the dead, 
 By its rugged roots and great 
 Maui's parents idly sate. 
 Ghosts they were, yet seemed to be 
 Clothed with warm mortality. 
 " Parents mine," thus Maui said, 
 " Dwelling with the mighty dead, 
 Hence I come upon strange quest 
 To assist mankind distressed, 
 342
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 Seeking for the fire that leaps 
 In the frame of her who keeps 
 Stores in her immortal veins, 
 Goddess of the fire and flames. 
 Tell me, parents mine, the road 
 Leading to her high abode." 
 " Son beloved, on summit high, 
 Where the mountains touch the sky, 
 Mahuika dwells alone, 
 Girdled with a mystic zone. 
 Rocks up-piled and chasms rude 
 Guard her haughty solitude, 
 Forests dense conceal the way 
 Where the traveller doth stray 
 Vacillating in his mind 
 Like a leaf tossed by the wind ; 
 And 'tis said that beings strange 
 Fearsome through the forests range, 
 What the traveller's fate may be 
 Meeting them none can foresee. 
 But if not deterred by these 
 Perils and uncertainties 
 Still the quest you must pursue, 
 Keep the palm grove full in view 
 Where its greenery doth limn 
 Sitting on the forest's rim ; 
 Enter there the shaggy wood, 
 Boldly dare its solitude." 
 Thus the ghostly parents gave 
 Counsel to Maui the brave. 
 
 " Mahuika ! give, I pray, 
 Fire unto me that I may 
 343
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 Kindle on the hearths of men 
 Cheerful glowings once again 
 Fire by which man's food may be 
 Made to eat more pleasantly, 
 While the folk in converse meet 
 Round the ruddy flashings' heat." 
 Such was Maui's earnest prayer 
 Uttered in the mountain air. 
 But the goddess did not heed 
 Maui's pleading, or man's need, 
 Frowning, bade him backward turn, 
 To the daedal world return, 
 Nor again, with footsteps rude, 
 Violate her solitude. 
 Lo ! the word-storm idly played, 
 Unabashed and unafraid 
 Maui still his suit did ply 
 With strong pertinacity, 
 Till the goddess, filled with ire, 
 From her fingers flecked the fire ; 
 From each finger leapt a flame, 
 Like a living thing it came. 
 Ere the flame could pass away 
 Prisoned and confined it lay 
 In a casket Maui bore, 
 Fashioned 'twas by magic lore, 
 Then with heart exultant he 
 Left the angry deity. 
 Soon the sprite within his breast 
 'Gan itself to manifest, 
 Open he the casket threw 
 And the flames from bondage flew, 
 Vanished like a dream that dies 
 344
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 When the morning opes its eyes. 
 Maui then, with back low bent, 
 Unto Mahuika went, 
 With a sad, dejected air, 
 Proffered a respectful prayer, 
 Told how he by chance had left 
 Twixt lid and jar a little cleft, 
 Safe away the flames did slink 
 Creeping through this little chink, 
 And he Mahuika prayed 
 To renew her former aid. 
 Nor was the orison vain, 
 For the goddess once again 
 Caused the ruddy flame to flow, 
 Every finger was aglow. 
 Maui soon the casket filled 
 With the precious fire distilled 
 From th' alembic's subtle bowl 
 In the goddess' sacred soul ; 
 Thus with artful guile did he 
 Gain his end by trickery, 
 Nor was then content, but lied 
 For a second time, and tried 
 The craft that he before had used, 
 Not deeming he would be refused. 
 But the goddess saw the cheat, 
 Brooked no more the foul deceit ; 
 Wrath, commingled with surprise, 
 Looked through her immortal eyes, 
 And uprising in her might 
 Shot fierce flames of dazzling light 
 Like a flood of roaring fire 
 Gushing from her wakened ire. 
 345
 
 MAUI AND MAHUIKA 
 
 Fast and faster Maui fled 
 From the flames that sought to wed 
 Him in their despised embrace. 
 Thus was run a deadly race, 
 Burned the forest, burned the ground, 
 Flames and smoke rose all around. 
 Maui then, in hope to 'scape, 
 Changed into an eagle's shape, 
 On swift pinions safety sought, 
 For his heart with fear was fraught ; 
 But the fierce flames mounted higher, 
 Seemed the world a blazing pyre. 
 Then with voice whose thund'rous sound 
 Pealed the mighty welkin round 
 To his ancestors, the gods 
 Whose divine, resistless nods 
 Rains and floods alike obey, 
 He made orison to stay 
 The vast conflagration's rage 
 And its passion to assuage. 
 Nor did they withhold their aid 
 From great Maui as he prayed, 
 Oped the floodgates of the sky 
 And the rains fell lavishly, 
 Washed the water here and there, 
 Torrents flowing everywhere, 
 Till the very earth was drenched, 
 And the hungry flames were quenched. 
 Maui, in his eagle form, 
 Fled before the friendly storm, 
 He the magic casket bore 
 Laden with its precious store 
 To the cheerful world above 
 Where the people live and love. 
 346
 
 THE COMING OF CAPTAIN COOK TO 
 NEW ZEALAND 
 
 A SHIP came sailing from the tropic isles 
 
 Where Nature with a sunny face beguiles 
 
 The heart of man to slothful ease and play 
 
 And love that whiles the happy hours away. 
 
 On southward course by favouring breezes borne 
 
 Her captain with an anxious eye each morn 
 
 The watery waste and far horizon scanned 
 
 For that imagined continental land 
 
 Once deemed beneath the Southern Cross to lie, 
 
 A speculative land of mystery ; 
 
 The home, perchance, of monstrous men and things, 
 
 Dragons most huge, with crested heads and wings, 
 
 And giant trees, whose tops approached the sky, 
 
 Flowers dazzling hued, and gorgeous butterfly, 
 
 Vain fancies all ; but by such visions led, 
 
 The love of fame unto adventure wed, 
 
 Man rushes on to danger and to toil, 
 
 Nor recks what he may reap from peril and turmoil. 
 
 Full strong the breezes blew, but still the sea 
 Spread out its barren waste most wearily ; 
 No continent allured the sailors' gaze 
 Sublimely breaking through the ocean haze, 
 Till at the last, when spring had just begun, 
 Its hills reposing in the morning sun, 
 347
 
 THE COMING OF CAPTAIN COOK 
 
 A country rose to view ; a fertile land, 
 
 With mountains stretching far on either hand, 
 
 A country with the seal of might impressed, 
 
 Its destiny upon its face expressed, 
 
 And Cook beheld, with eyes and cheeks aflame, 
 
 A laurel added to his wreath of fame. 
 
 A vigorous folk these rugged islands reared, 
 A folk less to be loved than to be feared, 
 A race courageous, cruel to excess, 
 Their bold hearts beating strong with manliness ; 
 War was their trade and bloody deeds were rife, 
 Their souls rejoiced in slaughter and in strife ; 
 With horrid feasts the victors crowned the fray 
 And ate the victims of the battle day ; 
 No rites to any god these people gave, 
 Nor recked of joy or woe beyond the grave ; 
 Yet oft by them chivalric deed was done, 
 The gleamings of the soul's immortal sun. 
 
 A hollow surf resounded on the shore 
 And to the land the spoils of ocean bore, 
 Long aeons had it rolled ere from afar 
 The Maori came in panoply of war 
 From famed Hawaiki, with courage high 
 To sail on unknown seas unflinchingly, 
 And through long ages yet to come the deep 
 Resonant music of the surf shall sweep 
 Around Zealandia's shores, a wild refrain 
 Borne from the bosom of the dangerous main. 
 
 Cook was the herald of a nobler life 
 When peaceful arts would banish human strife, 
 348
 
 TO NEW ZEALAND 
 
 And men's dark passions, by just laws subdued, 
 Give place to feelings of a gentler mood. 
 When from the crystal vault which forms the sky 
 His vessel broke, its white sails towering high, 
 And speeding through the waves, with gallant prow, 
 Drew nigh the land, an anchor on each bow, 
 It came the messenger of novel things, 
 Revealer of men's deep imaginings, 
 New faiths, new creeds, new modes of life unknown 
 To those who dwelt within Zealandia's zone, 
 The searching rays of whose resplendent light 
 Would chase the darkness of barbaric night. 
 
 349
 
 THE SOUTHERN ALPS 
 
 YE mountains ribbed, and rude, and worn with ape, 
 Sharp frosts of winter, and the tempest's rage, 
 Ye Southern Alps, that watch the spacious plain, 
 Outspread between your bases and the main 
 The blue Pacific, vastest of the seas 
 That resonant with many harmonies 
 Their azure waves and foaming surges roll 
 About the mundane globe from Pole to Pole 
 Strong are your ramparts, and your donjons rise 
 In piles successive to the lofty skies, 
 A wilderness of crags and peaks sublime 
 First fashioned in the mould of ancient Time 
 Before man yet had drawn the breath of life 
 Or e'er the Earth was stirred with human strife. 
 What stories could ye tell if ye had speech 
 Of seons whose strange chronicles would reach 
 To that primaeval vision of the world 
 When from the sombre gloom of chaos hurled 
 The land, uprising from the boundless deep, 
 Emerged with plain, and vale, and mountain steep ! 
 From your Titanic glaciers that descend 
 And downwards from your summits slowly wend 
 And creep along the ravines, rent and torn 
 By sudden terror from the earthquake born, 
 From your thick snows, that, in the early spring, 
 Fanned warmly by th' Australian breeze's wing, 
 350
 
 THE SOUTHERN ALPS 
 
 Yield up a tide of waters, wild and coarse, 
 
 A turbid volume from a crystal source, 
 
 Come forth torrential rivers, bounding free 
 
 Through gorges cleft in rocky masonry, 
 
 Then, streaming here and there across the wold, 
 
 In courses devious and manifold, 
 
 Their floods commingle with th' unmeasured sea 
 
 And there are lost in its immensity. 
 
 Across your snowfields and through chasms deep 
 The sultry winds with boist'rous roarings sweep, 
 The wild nor'-wester, with its glowing blast, 
 Like breathings of a fiery spirit cast 
 Abroad to vex with its tempestuous rage 
 All sentient things that move upon Life's stage ; 
 When o'er the plain its stormy blust'rings pass 
 The panting beast lies prone upon the grass, 
 A languor creeps and crawls throughout the blood, 
 The mind respondent takes a weary mood ; 
 The leaves grow limp and shrivel on the trees, 
 The flowers are torn and scattered by the breeze ; 
 At length the rain in welcome showers descends 
 And thus the tempest's wild emotion ends. 
 
 No castles hoary guard your summits grey, 
 No legend strange of gnome or of fay 
 Enchants your regions lorn, nor any tale 
 Of Lorelei's charming, or of Banshee's wail ; 
 Your ravines ne'er have echoed battle cry, 
 Or sword's fierce clash, or dread artillery ; 
 Your glories are your own, nor gain they aught 
 From mighty deeds or works that men have wrought 
 Untouched by Art, by Nature ruled alone, 
 Ye dwell within the radiance of her throne. 
 
 351
 
 THE SOUTHERN ALPS 
 
 In days of old your spacious valleys fed 
 
 The moa huge which, by its chieftains led, 
 
 Sought in your fastnesses a summer rest 
 
 In flocks like flecks of foam on Ocean's breast ; 
 
 And lo ! the kiwi weird, in garb antique, 
 
 A plumage strange, with its ground-probing beak, 
 
 Disturbed the night while seeking for its prey, 
 
 But slumbered in your caverns through the day ; 
 
 The kea mewed ; the heron slowly flew 
 
 Across your lakes and icy torrents blue. 
 
 O mountains decked by fingers of the Sun 
 In early morn, e'er day has scarce begun, 
 Robed then ye sit, in majesty sublime, 
 The sovereign lords that ruled'st from ancient time 
 This sea-begirdled region of the world 
 Beneath the Southern Cross incessant whirled ; 
 And monarchs still shall be, till that dread day 
 When land, and sky, and sea shall pass away. 
 
 352
 
 THE SOUTHERN NORSEMEN 
 
 How gallant were the men who roved 
 The Southern seas in days of old 
 
 Before the days whose chronicles 
 In legendary tales are told ! 
 
 They braved the ocean in rude craft, 
 With vigour plied the heavy oar, 
 
 Arduous the toil and slow the pace, 
 For little sail the vessels bore. 
 
 Their compass was the sun by day, 
 By night the gleaming of the Cross 
 
 That hangs sublimely in the sky 
 
 Where Austral surges foam and toss. 
 
 The vast Pacific main they roamed 
 On grim adventure gaily bound, 
 
 They sought new isles, if such perchance 
 Might in its azure spheres be found. 
 
 The hymnings of its mighty voice 
 
 Heroic longings woke, and stirred 
 The man within them, and the noise 
 
 Of battlefield afar they heard. 
 A A 353
 
 THE SOUTHERN NORSEMEN 
 
 Their fancy saw the savage foe 
 Approach in war's horrent array, 
 
 Beheld him flying in full rout, 
 Casting his useless arms away. 
 
 The marvels of an unknown world, 
 Of nations fierce, and monsters dire ; 
 
 Imagination's wayward brood, 
 Filled their barbaric hearts with fire. 
 
 Wide rolled the surges, as they still 
 Roll glorious with their flash of foam, 
 
 The sea-birds in slow circles flew, 
 As now they o'er the ocean roam. 
 
 The Norsemen of the Southern globe 
 These ancient mariners became, 
 
 O'er sea and many an isle they passed, 
 Yet legend whispers not their name. 
 
 Dim relics of their ancient pride 
 They left behind them, here and there, 
 
 So flotsam from the tempest's tide 
 The ribbed and storm-beat sands oft bear. 
 
 A race that lived, and loved, and fought 
 Undaunted in its vigorous prime, 
 
 And made the Southern world its own 
 In that remote, primaeval time. 
 354
 
 THE SOUTHERN NORSEMEN 
 
 The lands that once its presence knew, 
 From tropic isles to Zealand's snows, 
 
 Unchanged remain, as when they first 
 Before the Norsemen's eyes arose. 
 
 The ghosts of these departed souls 
 Shall haunt for ever and for aye 
 
 The great Pacific, and its winds 
 Shall chant for them a monody. 
 
 355
 
 TANGAROA 
 
 GREAT is the power divine of Tangaroa 
 Who dwells amid the ocean depths where peace 
 
 Perpetual reigns ; above, the surges roar, 
 Their noisy bello wings fright the startled air, 
 
 But muffled by the weight of waters cease 
 Nor reach the palace on the ocean floor. 
 
 Sometimes the god, beguiled by sunny hours, 
 Ascends and walks upon the azure main, 
 
 A fleecy cloud his majesty embowers, 
 
 Nor unattended moves the Lord of might, 
 
 Creatures innumerable compose his train, 
 Profuse as drops of rain in tropic showers. 
 
 The pearl-clad nautilus, with tiny sail, 
 In fleets of myriads glides on before, 
 
 The sky is darkened with the endless tale 
 Of sea-birds white, and brown, and grey, 
 
 The waves vibrate with life ; none can be sure 
 If leaping fish or flashing waves prevail. 
 
 How dreadful Tangaroa in angry mood ! 
 
 The waves are riven into vale and hill, 
 The stormy petrel screams across the flood, 
 
 The clouds dissolve in mist, the sky is hid. 
 The thunder's roarings Heaven's vast concave fill, 
 
 Creation trembles with the conflict rude. 
 356
 
 TANGAROA 
 
 His presence known to us ; his shape unknown, 
 If shape he hath that could by mortal eye 
 
 Be witnessed without danger to its own, 
 He manifests himself by power that thrills 
 
 The elements with his strong majesty 
 
 And makes them servants of his secret throne. 
 
 357
 
 NEW ZEALAND 
 
 'Tis the land of the mystical fern 
 
 That spreads its green tracings on high 
 In the forest's deep glade that conceals 
 
 The dome of the crystalline sky ; 
 The creepers that hang from the boughs, 
 
 The mosses that cling to their boles, 
 Clothe the trees like a garment, and hide 
 
 The shrines of the dryades' souls. 
 
 The land of the tui, bedight 
 
 With amice of rich, raven wings, 
 While, 'neath his most musical throat 
 
 A plume of white feathers outsprings ; 
 The priest of the forest and stream 
 
 His clear, tuneful anthem is heard, 
 The chanting of liquescent notes 
 
 As they well from the soul of the bird. 
 
 A land where the mountains uprear 
 Their crests to the opaline sky, 
 
 The glaciers stretch down to the sea 
 
 And hear the great waves breaking nigh, 
 358
 
 NEW ZEALAND 
 
 The song and the twitter of birds 
 Give life to the wild, rocky glen, 
 
 Remote from the feverish world, 
 Unknown to, untravelled by men. 
 
 The Titan who lies 'neath the earth 
 
 In caverns tenebrous fast bound 
 Oft trembles with rage, and his voice 
 
 Vibrates with a hoarse, rumbling sound ; 
 The geyser boils up, and its steam 
 
 Ascends like the ghost of a cloud, 
 While wreaths of a terrible smoke 
 
 The volcano's summits enshroud, 
 
 The land where the kiwi is born, 
 
 That bird of a fashion unique, 
 Left lone on the Earth like a waif 
 
 Surviving from ages antique ; 
 What tales could it tell of the Past 
 
 Were it gifted with powers of speech, 
 Of the years that lie hidden beyond 
 
 The days which man's chronicles reach ! 
 
 When the moa roamed over the land 
 
 The lord of the hills and the plain 
 In flocks that resembled the waves, 
 
 Unnumbered, that wrinkle the main ; 
 While, haunting the lake and the marsh, 
 
 Huge reptiles, begot in the slime, 
 Seemed creatures that Nature had called 
 
 Into life in the ultimate Time. 
 359
 
 NEW ZEALAND 
 
 The land that is washed by the surge 
 
 Which rolls from the East and the West, 
 From the frozen retreats of the South, 
 
 From the tropical ocean's warm breast ; 
 Thus, laved by these manifold seas, 
 
 It lists to the winds as they call 
 From the uttermost parts of the world, 
 
 From the doors of bolus's hall. 
 
 360
 
 THE SOLANDER* 
 
 WHERE the Pacific 
 
 Rolls its long surges, 
 Vast and terrific, 
 
 Clothed with white tresses, 
 Chanting sea dirges, 
 
 Requiems of seamen 
 Lost in caresses 
 
 Of the mermaiden, 
 Stands the Solander. 
 
 Sea-fowl in legions 
 
 Gather around it, 
 Ere to far regions 
 
 Their armies take wing ; 
 On its rude crags sit 
 
 Penguin and petrel, 
 Musing and blinking, 
 
 Sombre and mournful. 
 
 In its caves scattered 
 
 Bones lie and moulder ; 
 Wind-worn and battered, 
 
 Perishing slowly. 
 
 * The Solander is a lofty rock rising out of the ocean near 
 the western entrance of Foveaux Straits. 
 
 361
 
 THE SOLANDER 
 
 Once the beholder 
 Saw a man breathing, 
 
 Life in his nostrils, 
 
 Mind his brow wreathing. 
 
 Gone are his glories, 
 
 Vanished, forgotten, 
 Crumbled the stories 
 
 Of his house of life ; 
 On rocky floor strewn 
 
 His relics are left, 
 The sport of the winds, 
 
 The food of sea-eft. 
 
 Watchman unsleeping 
 
 O'er storm-riven straits 
 Where gales go sweeping 
 
 And great waves are born, 
 Whose sullen roar shakes 
 
 The roof of the world, 
 In huge masses torn 
 
 Their foamings are swirled 
 
 Giant Solander 
 
 Thus guards a wild shore, 
 Sees the whales wander, 
 
 A maritime host, 
 Like fountains they pour 
 
 The fine beaten foam 
 In the air, then seek 
 
 The Nereids' home. 
 362
 
 THE SOLANDER 
 
 When clothed with prime force 
 
 The globe first began 
 To roll on its course 
 
 Strange creatures took life, 
 The heralds of man ; 
 
 In sea and on land 
 Huge monsters were rife, 
 
 A misshapen band. 
 
 From that day till now 
 
 Has Solander stood, 
 With dark, rugged brow 
 
 O'erlooking the main, 
 Whose deep, azure flood 
 
 Clings fast to the Earth 
 Where fierce tempests reign, 
 
 And storm-winds have birth. 
 
 363
 
 EASTER ISLAND 
 
 THIS timeworn globe is rich with many things 
 
 Stranger than our most strange imaginings, 
 
 Some secrets are supremely Nature's own, 
 
 If told, the workings of her loom were known, 
 
 While some are memories of lost nations who 
 
 Mechanic skill and occult learning knew ; 
 
 With art and toil they fashioned mighty fanes 
 
 Where ruin now and desolation reigns, 
 
 Their gods, once deemed immortal, lived their day, 
 
 Then like their worshippers they passed away. 
 
 Upon the pathway of the surge that sweeps 
 Across the South Pacific as it leaps 
 In foaming frenzy half around the globe, 
 Displaying wide its blue and flowing robe, 
 An island lies where one may rest awhile, 
 Remote from continent or other isle ; 
 'Tis but a speck upon a boundless sea, 
 A shrine of ancient gods and mystery. 
 
 Once barbarous priests in this lone island dwelt 
 Whose hearts fanatical no pity felt, 
 Untouched by sight or sound of human woe, 
 Nor heeding suffering or what tears might flow. 
 Their temple was of Cyclopean size, 
 Its stones arranged in massive harmonies, 
 364
 
 EASTER ISLAND 
 
 The giant blocks conveyed from distant lands 
 
 Were fashioned by the work of many hands, 
 
 Within a chamber, whose perpetual gloom 
 
 Intensified a silence of the tomb, 
 
 Their gods were ranged, strange gods of carven stone, 
 
 Each deity majestic on its throne, 
 
 Their names now vanished, like the thunder peal 
 
 Which for a moment makes the country reel, 
 
 But when 'tis passed we talk of its dread roar 
 
 A few short hours, then speak of it no more ! 
 
 Before the colonnade an altar stood, 
 
 An altar often drenched with human blood, 
 
 Thus men appease their gods with scarlet dye, 
 
 As if gods revelled in ferocity, 
 
 The victims ravished from a land afar, 
 
 Sad captives taken in the net of war, 
 
 And for the hungry gods the best were slain, 
 
 The Earth was robbed that Heaven might not complain. 
 
 The rites that in the inmost shrine were held, 
 The visions that the frenzied priests beheld, 
 The sacred lore from outer world concealed, 
 The mysteries to the chosen seer revealed 
 All these have floated, on Time's ample wings, 
 Unto the limbo of forgotten things, 
 But still about the island's rocky shore 
 Unceasingly the ocean surges roar, 
 They keep the secrets of the sacred isle, 
 None can gain them by force, nor any guile. 
 
 365
 
 THE PACIFIC OCEAN 
 
 THE SOUTH 
 
 OCEAN Pacific, vast are thy surges, 
 
 Beating and laving the broad Southern globe, 
 Hiding the ribs of old Earth with thy mantle, 
 Splendid the hues of thy far-flowing robe ; 
 
 Deep are thy solitudes, 
 
 Wide thy dominions, 
 Where the grey sea-bird sails on to its rest, 
 
 Seeking some islet, 
 
 Lonely, storm-battered, 
 There with its fellow to make a rude nest. 
 
 Borne on thy billows, 
 
 Rolls the strong sea-boat, 
 
 Speck in the vastness, 
 
 Thus it doth float, 
 Ocean, and Heaven, and albatross stately, 
 
 Mollyhawk, nelly, and many a petrel, 
 Circling, ere flying unto a far bourne ; 
 
 Buoyant their bearing, 
 
 Hearts full of daring, 
 
 Their wings by the grasp of the wild tempest torn ; 
 366
 
 THE PACIFIC OCEAN 
 
 Dolphin and porpoise with gambols unwieldy 
 Chasing the flying fish through the sea haze, 
 Whales with their fountains, sharks clothed with terror 
 On these and like marvels the mariners gaze. 
 
 Icebergs gigantic 
 
 From the Antarctic 
 Melt in thy waves when they touch thy warm zone, 
 
 Crystalline palaces, 
 
 Caverns iridescent, 
 Vanish like fanciful dreams that have flown ; 
 
 Messengers mystic, 
 
 Robed in white samite, 
 Come they from out of the gloom of the South, 
 
 Bearing strange messages, 
 
 Wonderful presages, 
 Heralds, and prophets, and priests of the South. 
 
 THE TROPICS 
 
 Beauteous the islands that gem thy broad bosom, 
 
 Where splendours torrescent rain down from the sky 
 Flushing thy waters with glory from heaven, 
 
 The gold and the turquoise commingling their dye ; 
 Lulled by the sound of thy surfs falling softly 
 Upon the white sands that begirdle his home 
 Lo ! the brown islander, child of the tropic, 
 Lives languid and heedless, unwilling to roam ; 
 Strange are his temples, 
 Wondrous his deities, 
 Wild the enchantments 
 Of the fierce wizards 
 
 Gibbering and dancing and claiming their toll 
 From terrors and tremblings that frighten his soul. 
 367
 
 THE PACIFIC OCEAN 
 
 Sometimes to the hearing, 
 
 The dreamy air stirring, 
 Come the resonant chimes of the Christian church bell, 
 
 With mien staid and sober 
 
 Unto the beholder 
 The people troop forth to hear the priest tell 
 
 Of faith that redeems us, 
 
 And pure lives that lead us 
 By steps unto Heaven, where sin hath no store, 
 
 But deep in their hearts burns 
 
 The flame on the altar 
 
 To gods that love slaughter, 
 And in spirit they worship those gods as of yore. 
 
 Oft on thy waters, 
 
 Lonely, forsaken, 
 The frail boat has rested when hope was nigh spent, 
 
 Sadly the castaways 
 
 O'er the wide ocean gaze, 
 And a soul every day from its body is rent. 
 
 Through numberless ages 
 
 Thy blue waters quivered 
 Beneath the full eye of the flame-vestured sun, 
 
 And races begotten 
 
 By men long forgotten, 
 Their day bright and joyous until it was done, 
 
 Upon thy green islands, 
 
 Wrapped round with thy foaming, 
 
 Dwelt lonely, untroubled, 
 
 Remote from the fever, 
 368
 
 THE PACIFIC OCEAN 
 
 The fire and the passion that kindle and shake 
 
 The kingdoms of Europe, 
 
 The kingdoms of Asia, 
 
 When the thoughts of strong thinkers from slumber 
 awake. 
 
 THE NORTH 
 
 Where frigid Alaska 
 
 Looks forth on Kamschatka, 
 And ice-mists hang thick in the grim Arctic zone, 
 
 The boom of thy surges 
 
 Sounds like the sad dirges 
 
 That rise from the grottoes when sea nymphs make 
 moan. 
 
 Far off are the streamings 
 
 The tremulous beamings 
 Of spirits that flit o'er the northernmost sky, 
 
 Stately their gestures, 
 
 Splendid their vestures 
 Moving, and gleaming, and flashing on high, 
 
 Clamant, unceasing, 
 
 Sometimes increasing, 
 
 Sometimes decreasing, 
 Roars thy great voice 'neath the roof of the world, 
 
 Echoing, sounding, 
 
 Deep tones rebounding, 
 From continent unto vast continent hurled. 
 
 BB 369
 
 MACQUARIE ISLAND 
 
 NIGH to the Antarctic, 
 
 Where thunders the ocean 
 Restless through the seasons, 
 
 Unceasing its motion 
 Storm-clouds like grey garments 
 
 Hang o'er it in masses 
 As if thickly gathered 
 
 O'er Neptune's morasses 
 There sits a lone islet, 
 
 Upspringing from darkness 
 Where dwells the great kraken 
 
 Of unmeasured vastness, 
 From other lands parted, 
 
 By the wild waters bound, 
 From sunny lands severed 
 
 By a broad compass round. 
 
 Here smile no green valleys 
 
 Besprinkled with flowers, 
 Where gay fancy dallies 
 
 With inconstant hours ; 
 Most rude is the vesture 
 
 That clothes the isle's form, 
 A cloak to defend it 
 
 From the breath of the storm. 
 37
 
 MACQUARIE ISLAND 
 
 King of the sea-fowl, 
 
 Albatross mighty, 
 Broods here in legions 
 
 On nests unsightly ; 
 Creatures soft breasted 
 
 He wins, one by one, 
 Then seeks distant regions 
 
 More loved by the sun. 
 
 Sea lions ungainly 
 
 Bask on the rude rocks 
 At whose steep bases 
 
 The grim ocean knocks, 
 Revel the lions 
 
 In frost and in snow, 
 Gladly they listen 
 
 When stormy winds blow. 
 
 Mists ever flitting 
 
 In weird cohorts past, 
 Ghosts of sea rovers 
 
 All hurrying fast 
 Unto the strange bourne 
 
 Where souls of the brave 
 In myriads meet 
 
 From under the wave. 
 
 Through the dim gloaming 
 Comes wanly the roar 
 
 Of surges that batten 
 Upon a far shore ; 
 371
 
 MACQUARIE ISLAND 
 
 Tis the voice of the surf 
 
 Whose cold waters roll 
 On the rampart that guards 
 
 Th' Antarctic Pole. 
 
 O sentinel lone of the Southern sea, 
 Faithful thou watchest for aye ; 
 
 Thou seest the loom of the icebergs white. 
 The aurora's lightnings play ! 
 
 372
 
 THE ANTARCTIC 
 
 WHERE frost eternal hides the land beneath its mantle 
 
 cold, 
 Where grows not grass, nor herb, nor shrub, nor 
 
 e'er a living tree, 
 While solitude broods o'er the plain, and o'er the 
 
 mountains old, 
 
 There rolls and breaks unceasingly the great Antarctic 
 sea. 
 
 Its surges gnaw the rugged base of icy ramparts vast, 
 They crawl into the fissures deep and frigid caverns 
 
 lorn, 
 Till, like a fleet of ghostly ships from off their moorings 
 
 cast, 
 
 The glittering bergs, upon the wave, to northern 
 climes are borne. 
 
 The boist'rous whale here roams at will, nor fears the 
 
 sharp harpoon, 
 The fur-clad seal and walrus huge find here an icy 
 
 home, 
 Upon the coast, in order strange, the penguins muse 
 
 and moon, 
 
 And sea birds wild, with mournful cry, wail o'er the 
 ocean foam. 
 
 373
 
 THE ANTARCTIC 
 
 Could we but look behind the veil, and pierce the 
 
 mists of Time, 
 And view the changes that have passed across this 
 
 region wild 
 Since first the Earth began to roll along its course 
 
 sublime, 
 
 And Nature gave her primal kiss unto her new-born 
 child, 
 
 What visions bright of sunny lands might greet our 
 
 wondering eyes, 
 Where forests green and meadows sweet adorn the 
 
 fertile soil, 
 Where novel creatures climb the hills, ascending to the 
 
 skies, 
 
 And races strange of human kind pursue their daily 
 toil! 
 
 What language did they speak, or was their speech of 
 
 divers modes ? 
 What gods did they invoke with prayer, what priests 
 
 ruled in their fanes ? 
 
 What faiths controlled their thoughts and ways, illu- 
 mined their abodes, 
 
 Consoled their lives with pious hopes and lightened 
 mortal pains ? 
 
 What poets wrote their songs and touched the chords 
 
 of every heart ? 
 What instruments of music thrilled the air with 
 
 tremors sweet, 
 Made the soul from out its slumbers with a sudden 
 
 passion start, 
 
 Or with soft emotions made the ardent pulses beat ? 
 374
 
 THE ANTARCTIC 
 
 Did the sun more fulgent radiance fling from off his 
 
 fiery ball ? 
 Did the moon resplendent shining in a brighter 
 
 chariot rise ? 
 Did finer constellations glitter through the night's 
 
 funereal pall ? 
 
 Did more frequent comets range and flash across the 
 frightened skies ? 
 
 What cities lie, their names unknown, within an icy 
 
 grave, 
 Where human life, full flushed and keen, once held 
 
 its fervid course, 
 Where mirth and sadness, joy and woe, the coward and 
 
 the brave, 
 
 A wild tumultuous flood rolled by, resistless in its 
 force ? 
 
 Fast locked within its frosty shrine the secret lies 
 
 concealed, 
 The great Antarctic roars around and thunders o'er 
 
 its bed, 
 
 Nor shall the shrine be opened or its mystery revealed, 
 Till Gabriel's trump shall shake the world and rouse 
 the sleeping dead. 
 
 375
 
 A CHANGED LAND 
 
 O SOMBRE forest ! rude and old, 
 
 Doomed in brief space to disappear, 
 
 Your giant trees and leafy shades 
 Grow fewer with each passing year. 
 
 The birds that once made blithe your glades 
 Now from their ancient dwellings fly, 
 
 Some to discern new refuges 
 And some to perish utterly. 
 
 O robes of fern that clothed the down 
 With garments green and woven dense, 
 
 That hid the gaunt form of the Earth, 
 Its mighty ribs and limbs immense, 
 
 Soon will you cease to drape the land 
 You clothed for many a century, 
 
 And your luxuriance but remain 
 A thing of pleasant memory. 
 
 Time waves his wand, and lo ! the scenes 
 Enacted on this mundane stage 
 
 In ordered sequence follow on 
 Successively from age to age. 
 376
 
 A CHANGED LAND 
 
 The Maori lingers for awhile, 
 
 But sees the fair land of his sires 
 
 Besprinkled with the white man's homes, 
 The smoke upcurling from their fires. 
 
 The golden gorse defines the field 
 Where lusty grows the foreign wheat, 
 
 The lambs frisk on the English grass, 
 The kine stroll by on lumbering feet, 
 
 The horses draw the plough that cleaves 
 The mellow soil into broad flakes, 
 
 The seagull follows on its trail 
 
 And from its bed the fat worm takes. 
 
 Where once in brown and scattered tufts 
 The tussock studded all the plain 
 
 Lush farms and homesteads meet the eye 
 And swiftly rolls the roaring train. 
 
 The ground-lark that, to greet the sun, 
 Flew blithely from its lowly nest, 
 
 Now sits in silence and forlorn, 
 By new-found enemies oppressed. 
 
 Not long the Maori shall survive, 
 Nor counted be a living race, 
 
 The wheel of Fate has turned, and he 
 Must to another yield his place. 
 377
 
 A CHANGED LAND 
 
 The deep abyss of Time contains 
 
 The wrecks of nations, small and great, 
 
 Some shot their light throughout the world, 
 Some flickered in a petty state. 
 
 Each had its day ; each played its part 
 Amid the scheme of earthly things, 
 
 But now its name in Memory's halls 
 More faintly and more faintly rings. 
 
 378
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTHERN GLOBE 
 
 O SPIRIT of the Southern globe ! 
 
 Awake from sleep and speak to me, 
 Reveal the secrets of thy past, 
 
 And what thy coming fate may be ! 
 The shadows of forgetfulness 
 
 Rest darkly o'er the ages when 
 Thy seas and lands untraversed were 
 
 By th' adventurous Northern men. 
 
 The storms of passion that assail 
 
 And rouse the soul to mighty deeds, 
 Sometimes of right, sometimes of wrong, 
 
 Whithersoe'er the tempest leads, 
 Alike beat where the fleecy snows 
 
 All things in their white mantle wreathe, 
 Or where the tropic sun burns fierce, 
 
 Wherever mortals live and breathe. 
 
 Hast e'er a Helen proudly walked 
 Beneath the turquoise Austral skies, 
 
 With radiant beauty unapproached, 
 Love shining in her glorious eyes ? 
 379
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTHERN GLOBE 
 
 Have fleets and armies sailed the seas 
 To bear her back to whence she fled ? 
 
 Have smiles that dimpled perfect cheeks 
 Bestrewn the land with countless dead ? 
 
 Or has some ruthless conqueror burst 
 
 Upon these regions like a flame, 
 And made each green and fruitful isle 
 
 A desert whereso'er he came, 
 Till tribes and peoples rose amain, 
 
 United 'gainst the common foe, 
 And hurled him from his throne of pride 
 
 Unto destruction's depths below ? 
 
 Mayhap some Chatham, nobly urged 
 
 By patriotism's sacred fire 
 To augment his country's power and make 
 
 It mount the scale of nations higher, 
 Has sought to spread its narrow bounds, 
 
 Until they reached from East to West, 
 So that its people, growing great, 
 
 A broader life should manifest. 
 
 Or what shall be thy fortune when 
 
 The future opes its banner wide, 
 And age on age shall lead the van 
 
 Of th' advancing human tide ? 
 Shall nations new successive rise 
 
 From embers of decadent States, 
 Bearing mankind to higher ways, 
 
 And nearer Wisdom's golden gates ? 
 380
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTHERN GLOBE 
 
 Strange ringings tingle in my ears 
 
 Of voices that have passed away, 
 Filling the air with notes confused 
 
 And words of a forgotten day, 
 We dimly hear behind the veil 
 
 That hides the future from our ken 
 The growing murmurs of a race 
 
 Of nobler women and of men.
 
 THE SOUTHERN OCEAN 
 
 THESE biting winds that come from icy lands, 
 The frozen ramparts of the Southern Pole, 
 
 Across a desert space of ocean where 
 The sea hawk from the little gull takes toll, 
 
 Stir not the blood with an enchantment breathed 
 Through every fibre of our mortal frame, 
 
 Nor waken thoughts that ripen into deeds 
 That win for guerdon glorious bays of fame, 
 
 For they sweep not o'er regions where brave men 
 Have sought adventure and achieved renown, 
 
 Whose spirits mingle with the winds that blow 
 
 O'er seas and lands that once by them were known. 
 
 The world is but a dullard thing till it 
 
 Doth palpitate with human hopes and fears 
 
 And acts of splendid note, whose purple flame 
 Illuminates the immemorial years. 
 
 Bright constellations gleam in Austral skies, 
 But gleam in cold magnificence alone, 
 
 They have not seen majestic empires rise 
 Nor viewed the terror of the falling throne. 
 382
 
 THE SOUTHERN OCEAN 
 
 The broad Pacific spreads its mighty waves 
 O'er half the compass of the Southern globe, 
 
 The silver of its surges decorates 
 
 The splendid trailings of its azure robe. 
 
 But history hath not dowered this sea with fame, 
 Nor wedded it to man's heroic deeds, 
 
 Song hath not draped it with a magic spell 
 Nor with the visions that gay fancy breeds. 
 
 Yet it may be that, in far days to come, 
 The mists of Time shall consecrate this sea, 
 
 And giant shapes and wondrous beings loom 
 Adown the vistas of antiquity. 
 
 383
 
 THE AUSTRAL STEAMSHIP 
 
 Lo ! I see the lights agleaming as the steamship o'er 
 
 the main 
 Passes swiftly through the deep and silent watches 
 
 of the night, 
 While the salt waves cleave asunder in majestic surges 
 
 whirled, 
 
 And backward in the shadow floats a trail of shimmer- 
 ing white. 
 
 Yea, a thousand hearts are beating in this palace of the 
 
 seas 
 And its iron walls are dripping with the splashes of 
 
 the foam, 
 The Austral stars' unnumbered fires are burning bright 
 
 and full 
 
 As the steamship bears its living freight unto their 
 northern home. 
 
 From the giant funnels streaming drift the sparks upon 
 
 the wind 
 
 Like a splendid banner floating in the dusky at- 
 mosphere, 
 And the sleeping dolphin, wakened, flashes down a 
 
 lustrous slope 
 
 Driven to the ocean caverns by the scourgings of his 
 fear. 
 
 384
 
 THE AUSTRAL STEAMSHIP 
 
 Golden treasures it bears gaily, won by toil and won- 
 drous skill 
 
 From the secret hiding-places of the old and strong- 
 ribbed Earth, 
 Unto the marts of all mankind, where men like ants are 
 
 found, 
 
 Where rich delights, and stirring deeds, and mighty 
 thoughts have birth. 
 
 Never galleon half so splendid, never treasure-ship so 
 
 proud 
 Sailed across the broad Pacific in the golden days of 
 
 Spain 
 As the Austral steamship driven by a giant in his 
 
 prison, 
 
 Throbbing in the silent darkness on its way across 
 the main. 
 
 385
 
 SONS OF THE SOUTH 
 
 O SONS of the South, how bright is your morning, 
 
 Rising and flashing from out the dark sea 
 Ocean of ages, whose bosom is teeming 
 
 With thoughts for the centuries yet to be ! 
 Splendid the beams of your promised dominion 
 
 Ruling the lands 'neath the blue Austral sky ; 
 Strong is the gleam of your powerful sceptre, 
 
 Glorious the vision it opes to the eye ! 
 
 O Sons of the South, how proud your vocation ! 
 
 Heirs of great conquests and realms hardly won ; 
 'Tis yours to maintain the wide-spreading Empire, 
 
 The fruit of the deeds by your forefathers done ; 
 Mighty its cities, with multitudes surging, 
 
 Vast its lush meadows and fields of rich grain ; 
 Swift are its ships, like the birds in their number, 
 
 Flecking the ocean throughout its domain. 
 
 From the old Past with its manifold wisdom 
 
 Ring the clear words of the spirit that breathed 
 Life in the nation when, toilworn and weary, 
 
 Misfortune seemed with its destiny wreathed, 
 To the fierce joy of the red, rolling battle, 
 
 To the full pride of the land and the main, 
 To the wide realms where mind is immortal, 
 
 The voices invite ye, in stirring refrain. 
 386
 
 SONS OF THE SOUTH 
 
 Oh cherish the rights which your forefathers won 
 
 Through labour and pain, the hazard of life, 
 But heed not the clack of the demagogue's tongue. 
 
 His noisy appeals to passion and strife ; 
 Slaves are the people who kneel at the altar 
 
 By ignorance raised to some god unknown ; 
 Free are the people who bridle their passions 
 
 And bow before Reason upon her proud throne ! 
 
 387
 
 THE FALL OF THE KAURI TREE 
 
 Now shuddering falls the kauri from his throne, 
 The monarch of a forest vast and dim, 
 His mighty trunk with many a spreading limb 
 
 Descends, then on the trembling ground lies prone 
 
 Where erst the fairy fern and moss made known 
 Their tender graces 'mid a chastened light 
 A sudden glare bursts in and puts to flight 
 
 The sylvan beauty of the forest lone. 
 
 The monarch's birth was in the ancient days 
 Ere man upon Zealandia's shores had trod 
 When o'er the mountain and the tussocked sod 
 
 The huge-legged moa cast its far-reaching gaze ; 
 Shaggy with centuries the royal head 
 Beneath the European axe lies dead. 
 
 Thus we, the children of a modern time, 
 Destroy the bloom of Nature ; nor endure 
 The shadow of her mystery and lure, 
 
 Or heed the music of her throbbing chime ; 
 
 Our dullard ears refuse the glorious rhyme 
 Which she relates to such as list her voice, 
 That makes the pulses of the blood rejoice 
 388
 
 THE FALL OF THE KAURI TREE 
 
 And floods with beauty e'en the terrene slime ; 
 
 Her secret haunts our jealous thoughts offend, 
 We claim the bounds of knowledge to define 
 By printed book, by compass, and by line, 
 
 And thus the veil from Nature's face to rend, 
 Yet still the ocean's anthem peals alway, 
 Nor do the clouds upon their courses stay. 
 
 DD 389
 
 TONGARIRO 
 
 O TONGARIRO ! lord of many realms 
 Dark, subterranean, and where lightnings dwell, 
 While the dark rumblings of their thunders fell 
 
 With blighting fears the reason overwhelms ; 
 
 From thy great altar smoke upriseth ever, 
 Perpetual token of thy hidden power 
 That, manifested in some sudden hour, 
 
 May the strong Earth from its foundations sever ; 
 
 The country round wears trappings of thy might, 
 And, lo ! a spacious lake is wide outspread 
 Where flit the phantoms of the Maori dead, 
 
 And the hot geyser pants throughout the night ; 
 Thou lookest from thy throne upon the sea, 
 Far off, to man remote, yet seeming nigh to thee. 
 
 Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
 
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