Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/chelchedorchelseOOwebbrich 
 
CHELCHED : 
 
 OR, 
 
 €hdstn, ^ncunt, ^ebmbnl, mxb ^obern. 
 
 A POEM 
 
 WILLIAM WEBBE, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 'THE POET'S DEATH," "THE CHELSEA PENSIONERS," &c. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR 
 BY S. A. MOWELS, 138, SLOANE STREET, S.W. 
 
 MDCCCLXXIX. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
\A/nCH- 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It is natural that we should feel more interested in 
 the prosperity of the place with which we are most 
 intimately acquainted than with any other. 
 
 The persons by whom we are surrounded — those 
 who are governed by the same laws, who speak the 
 same language, and whose customs and habits of life 
 are identical with our own — must necessarily interest 
 us more than those living at a distance from us under 
 contrary conditions of existence. The love of country 
 has always been considered a virtue of the first magni- 
 tude, and one of our poets, in some well-known lines, 
 denounces him who is destitute of it. in no measured 
 terms. But this attachment to a particular locality 
 does not exclude a more extended love : it is only the 
 first step towards that love with which we ought to 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 regard all God's creatures. The working of this 
 principle has been beautifully expressed by Pope : — 
 
 *' God loves from whole to parts, but human soul 
 Must rise from individual to the whole ; 
 Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 
 As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake ; 
 The centre moved a circle straight succeeds, 
 Another still and still another spreads ; 
 Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; 
 His country next, and next all hiiman race ; 
 Wide, and more wide, the o'erflo wings of the mind. 
 Takes every creature in of every kind : 
 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 
 And heaven beholds its image in his breast." 
 
 The intense love of country which was displayed 
 by the citizens of the great Eoman empire may have 
 been one of the causes of its wonderful expansion. 
 This principle was exhibited in their history in 
 numberless instances : some, perhaps, legendary, but 
 all showing the powerful influence which it had upon 
 their minds. The lives of the citizens illustrated it, 
 and the writings of historians and poets celebrated it. 
 
 It seems to have been reserved for the present age 
 to produce those philanthropists who endeavour to 
 reverse the process, to begin by loving all mankind in 
 general, before they have learned to love any of the 
 
PREFACE. y 
 
 units of which the whole amount is composed. The 
 love of such persons being so widely diffused, can 
 necessarily possess but little strength ; the stream of 
 their affections being spread over so large a surface 
 must be very shallow. However that may be, we 
 have taken the natural order by writing in praise of 
 our native place, and hope that our pleasing task will 
 gain the approbation of those who, like ourselves, 
 hold Chelsea in loving remembrance as the place of 
 their birth. 
 
 I beg respectfully to return my hearty thanks to 
 those who have assisted me by becoming subscribers, 
 especially to those who have exerted themselves to 
 procure other subscribers. 
 
 Those of my old pupils who are among the number 
 deserve special notice. I pray that the blessing of 
 God may be upon them through their future lives, 
 that prosperity may attend their undertakings, that 
 they may be useful and honourable members of 
 society, happy in themselves and families, and an 
 honour to their instructors. I will now take an affec- 
 tionate leave of them with the hope that (while 
 viewing with special Ul>terest their native place) they 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 will not stop there, but will pass on to the next step, 
 and (in the same spirit as that which actuated him 
 who wrote " Dulce et decorum est pro patrid mori ") 
 regard that great nation of which they form a part, 
 with peculiar affection, and say from the heart, 
 ** England, with all thy faults, I love thee still." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHELCHED : AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE 1 
 
 MEDIEVAL CHELSEA : THE VILLAGE OF PALACES ... 6 
 
 MODERN CHELSEA 10 
 
 SPES ET FIDES INFRACTA 20 
 
 ON HEARING THE BELL TOLLING AT THE ABBEY OF 
 
 ST. alban's 24 
 
 LINES ON THE OPENING OF THE CHELSEA THAMES 
 
 EMBANKMENT 26 
 
 THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES 30 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 BouRDAS, — , Esq. ... 
 Brown, — , Esq., senr. 
 Brown, Mr., jun. ... 
 Caswell, Mr. 
 
 Forth, Mr 
 
 FoRMAN, — , Esq., and Friends 
 
 Gordon, W., Esq., M.P. ... 
 
 HoRTON, E., Esq., and Friends 
 
 McDoNNEL, Mr. 
 
 MowELS, Mr. 
 
 OUGHTON, H., Esq. 
 
 Redwood, G., Esq. 
 
 Shield, Mr. ... 
 
 Slater, Mrs. and Friends 
 
 Stroulger, Mr. 
 
 COPIES. 
 
 4 
 1 
 1 
 2 
 8 
 
 12 
 1 
 
 21 
 1 
 2 
 1 
 1 
 2 
 
 12 
 1 
 
(J^ncient dhthu). 
 
 AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE. 
 
 (A Picture :— temp. 1066.) 
 
 Some rude built huts lay scattered by the side 
 
 Of Britain's noblest river, — at the door 
 
 Of one a Saxon mother sat, and watched 
 
 A little fair-haired, blue-eyed child, that played 
 
 Before the cottage door, with all the glee 
 
 Of happy childhood, which has not a thought 
 
 Beyond the present, — for its sunlit sky 
 
 No cloud obscures, — the past brings no regret. 
 
 The future brings no fears. 
 
 'Twas towards the hour 
 Of eve, — a single bird its vesper lay 
 Was warbling sweetly from a neighbouring tree : 
 Some swans were slowly passing up the stream 
 With smooth and regal motion, towards their home 
 
2 CHELCHED : 
 
 Among the reeds, that clothed the farther shore, 
 Leaving behind a glittering track of light. 
 
 The tide was of unwonted height that day ; — 
 The lowlands opposite submerged, (stretching 
 As far as eye could reach) appeared a lake 
 Of size immense, while (on the surface spread) 
 The rich enchantment of the setting sun 
 Gave splendour none could paint. More westward 
 
 still 
 The village church and rectory appeared, 
 Close to the shore, reflected in the waves, 
 Which gently flowed, illumed with crimson light. 
 The woods that stretched far from the river brink 
 Glowed in the magic hues. The straggling rays 
 Which slanting fell upon the porcine herd 
 That fed beneath the boughs, lent to their eyes 
 (Reddened by the light) a savage lustre. 
 
 Eound Chelched's village, Art, as yet, had not 
 Fair Nature^s works defaced : — there beauty smiled, 
 Almost primeval, that fair Autumn eve. 
 
 The rustic labours of the day were o'er. 
 And homeward, now, the weary swains repair 
 With sharpened appetites, from honest toil 
 
AN ANGLO-SAXON VILLAGE. O 
 
 Acquired, to share their evening meal, and then 
 To sleep the sound and dreamless sleep, reserved 
 For weary labour and heaven-bless'd content. 
 The humble inmates of that village felt 
 In their calm lives, monotonous, retired, 
 But rarely change ; — and yet in one short year 
 .Three kings had ruled in England. In that year 
 The saintly Edward to his splendid tomb 
 At Westminster was borne ; — his corpse the first 
 Within those hallowed walls he built, to find 
 Its rest ; — there shrined in honour to remain 
 For countless ages : — the dauntless Harold, then 
 (The latest Saxon monarch) filled the throne, 
 Until at Hastings' field he lost both crown 
 And life ; — and then the Norman conqueror came 
 (A feudal sovereign), who o'er vassals reigned, 
 Whose iron rule the conquered Saxons crushed : 
 But to this little peaceful village came 
 No spoiler, — all kept its wonted order : — 
 The seasons came, and passed, — the seeds were sown, 
 The harvests gathered, — the herds were pastured ; 
 The woods each year gave fuel for the fires 
 Which warmed the huts in Winter, and upon 
 
4 CHELCHED : 
 
 The mellow walls made dancing sllado^^'^ play. 
 
 None of the little nmnber were withdrawn 
 
 From rustic labours, to defend their land 
 
 From traitorous violence or invading force : — 
 
 Their Sunday duties, and their week-day toil 
 
 Alternate claimed their care. The festivals 
 
 Alone made pulses beat more rapidly ; — 
 
 When Easter, Whitsun, Christmastide returned, 
 
 Then new attire was worn ; — both young and old 
 
 In hearty, harmless merriment indulged : — 
 
 With joyful shouts the Yule log on the hearth 
 
 Was placed, and when it blazed, and crackling, sparks 
 
 Cast forth, within the grateful warmth, circling. 
 
 They told their tales, and quaffed their cups of ale. 
 
 Such were the scenes beheld in olden time 
 
 In Chelched's village, — such were those who passed 
 
 Their simple lives within its woods and fields. 
 # * * -jf^ * 
 
 The Saxon mother seated at the door 
 
 Of her rude cottage, that had watched her child, 
 
 While glowing sunset melted into eve, 
 
 Now hears her husband's footsteps, and within 
 
 Hastes to prepare the welcome evening meal. 
 
^^iiiabal dlkd0ea. 
 
 THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. 
 
 Pass we on : — tlie quiet village Clielched, 
 (Almost unknown, obscurely happy), now 
 Has changed its name to Chelsey :— its hovels, 
 And their unlettered inmates too, have passed 
 Away ; — and in their place, ambitious, stand 
 In startling contrast now, mansions costly. 
 Many chambered, elegant, adorned with all 
 Of rare, and beautiful, the age can bring. 
 Which courtiers, heroes, sages, the noblest born 
 Have made their chosen home. Even royalty 
 Itself hither retired, that here, apart, 
 It might enjoy, unbent, the magic charm 
 Of converse unrestrained, free from the chains 
 Of etiquette, — and from state trappings loosed, 
 At ease it might disport. As in the field 
 
6 MEDIEVAL CHELSEA : 
 
 The noble horse when its day's work is o'er, 
 Unreined, uncurbed, unharnessed, gambols free. 
 
 So many stately edifices stand 
 Within this once mean village, that 'tis called 
 In lofty style " Village of Palaces." 
 The despot king whose will few dared to thwart 
 Here built a palace, and here his subject 
 Faithful, loyal, illustrious, — Thomas More, 
 Oft met his sovereign, to share his friendship 
 Fatal, and to receive his false caress : — 
 Elizabeth, his daughter, — Virgin Queen, 
 Kenowned, lived here, obscure, till she was called 
 To fill the throne ; — to guide with fearless hand 
 The vessel of the State, that under her 
 England might grow in years, to be the first 
 Amongst the nations, great in arts and arms : 
 Here Anne of Cleves, his wife rejected, lived, 
 Too wise to grieve for loss of dignity, 
 Which daily risk involved, and loss of life, — 
 Dangers from which a humbler lot was free ; — 
 Here Catherine Parr retired, when death released 
 Her, from her tyrant lord, no more to be 
 The prey to his suspicion undeserved, 
 
THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. 7 
 
 Or, that caprice, which on the smallest base 
 
 Could build a deadly charge of treason, 
 
 'Gainst which even Innocence might j^lead in vain ; 
 
 (For oft before a venial court such charge, 
 
 Alas ! had proved a passport to the block :) 
 
 And many more whose names in History's page 
 
 Enshrined are found, have made their sojourn here. 
 
 Brave Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who won fame 
 
 With Edward's son at Poitiers and Crescy : — 
 
 Berkeley made Earl Marshal by the Sovereign, 
 
 First of Tudor's line, who upon the field 
 
 Was crowned at Bosworth ; — Sir Eeginald Bray, 
 
 The first to hail his leader King, who placed 
 
 Upon the brow of Henry, Richard's crown. 
 
 Which had been worn in battle, and was found 
 
 After his death lodged in a hawthorn bush : — - 
 
 Manchester, selected by his peers to bear 
 
 Their gratulations to the Second Charles, 
 
 On his return from exile to the throne : — 
 
 Shrewsbury, Lord Steward, who with his king 
 
 Went to that Field renowned, at Guisnes, — " the Field 
 
 Of Cloth of Gold," in which the nobles sought 
 
 With lavish cost, each other to outvie, 
 
8 MEDLEVAL CHELSEA : 
 
 And in the attempt wrecked many a fortune ;— 
 
 The Countess who built palatial Chatsworth, 
 
 Oldcoates and Hardwick, and transmitted them 
 
 Entire (a noble mother's gift, princely, 
 
 Unequalled) to her son, and thus the house 
 
 Of Cavendish enriched, with dignity 
 
 To bear the honours of a ducal crown : — 
 
 Northumberland, whose mad ambition cost 
 
 His life : — his Duchess who within the church 
 
 Lies buried, where her monument remains ; — 
 
 Nottingham, who in Elizabethan times 
 
 Lived in the manor house ; — and Hamilton, 
 
 Who the same year that stern Eebellion brought 
 
 His master to the block, loyal and brave. 
 
 Was taken, fighting for the Crown and slain. 
 
 Thus then in mediaeval times Chelsey 
 
 Was honoured ; — here tliose by birth illustrious, 
 
 By merit, and by rank, from courtly fetes 
 
 Retired awhile, to pass an interval 
 
 Of happiness in polished rural life. 
 
 And there find peace, elsewhere oft sought in vain. 
 
 As from a humble, wayside plant, sometimes 
 By culture's hand, is born a noble flower, 
 
THE VILLAGE OF PALACES. 
 
 So from a few small huts, sprmig up at length, 
 This village of luxurious palaces : — 
 And thus it long continued in honour, 
 Till wonder-working Time, another change 
 "Wrought in its fortunes, and its escutcheon 
 Painted with fresher, broader quarterings. 
 
JKciJ^m Chdsea. 
 
 Another era now begins its course, 
 Whence modern Chelsea dates its birth, — 
 When Sloane retired to spend the latest years 
 That crowned a life useful, laborious, 
 Honoured, within its bounds. Here he lived long 
 And reached a patriarchal age. Here he 
 Arranged at leisure, calm and dignified, 
 Those treasures which by his assiduous hands. 
 In foreign climes, reckless of toil or cost, 
 Had been collected ; — ^those which to the state 
 In a few years, he gave on generous terms, 
 That formed a nucleus, round which both Art 
 And Nature ranged their richest, rarest stores 
 Of every kind, both modem and antique. 
 Until that Institution stood complete, 
 The Country's pride, priceless and unrivalled. 
 This is the noble monument of Sloane 
 
MODERN CHELSEA. 11 
 
 Which Time cannot destroy, nor storms decay. 
 His churchyard tomb will crumble into dust, 
 (E'en though of late by reverent hands restored). 
 But bequests such as this, with that twin gift, — 
 The garden filled with rare exotic plants, — 
 Are living tributes, that, defying Time, 
 True to their trust, will keep his memory green, 
 Though sculptured stone be levelled with the ground. 
 
 From small beginnings little Chelched rose 
 In population, riches, influence, 
 Till she attained a height that almost gave 
 To her the right to claim a civic crown. 
 But ere this high position she assumed, 
 An interval of dulness and neglect 
 Was hers, when builders, sordid and grasping, 
 Eaised streets of squalid houses, that became 
 In time, a pest and eyesore. But, again, 
 From her humiliation she arose ; 
 Her slumber over, she began to cast 
 Aside those rags with which she had been clothed 
 While sleeping, and to urge her claim again 
 To honour and distinction, — founded now 
 Upon a broader basis than before, 
 
 B 2 
 
12 MODERN CHELSEA. 
 
 With safeguards, such that no unworthy hand 
 Henceforth, would have the power to make her name 
 Awhile a byword, and a jest. 
 
 Though now 
 No fields are seen, for houses now supply 
 Their places, — though the remorseless axe has done 
 Its work on hedge and tree, — though shady lane 
 And field-path now, no more can lure away 
 From home the willing feet, nor tempt the hand 
 To rifle hedge -rows, with wild flowers fragrant, 
 Or pluck the luscious briar, convolvulus 
 Or honeysuckle sweet, or (bent with dew 
 At morn) the daisy crimson-lipped, or seek 
 On mossy banks, the modest violet : — 
 Though pleasant green retreats, where age 
 After a life of useful toil, might rest, 
 And in the neat and cherished garden, find 
 Fit occupation, now are seen no more ; — 
 Though miles of dusty roads, treeless and shadeless 
 Flanked by long rows of houses in their place, 
 Supply alone the paths of modern times, 
 Tis idle to complain ; the law of change 
 That works elsewhere, works here; it gives and takes: 
 
MODERN CHELSEA. 13 
 
 If Time inexorable takes away 
 
 Her rural beauties and delights, she gives 
 
 Something substantial in return, before 
 
 Denied, — a moral power, which only wealth, 
 
 Intelligence, and population, all 
 
 Combined, could e'er command : — he takes away 
 
 Her flowery wreath, and gives a golden crown 
 
 The knight in armour clad, scorned counting-house, 
 
 Or warehouse : — his dignity would suffer 
 
 By the grasp of aught save dagger, battle-axe 
 
 Or sword : — 'tis not so now, for gartered knights. 
 
 In coronet and ermine richly clad. 
 
 Complacent view the riches commerce brings. 
 
 And long to share its profits. One of them 
 
 Of late consigned his son to trade pursuits, 
 
 And felt it no disgrace. Thus in Chelsea 
 
 Trade was ignored in olden times ; but now 
 
 It brings no sneering word ; — now its marts 
 
 Are filled with rare, and costly merchandize, 
 
 And offer to the cultivated eye 
 
 A feast : — treasures of art are there displayed 
 
 Of workmanship most exquisite ; — there forms 
 
 Of wondrous grace in things of common life, 
 
14 MODERN CHELSEA. 
 
 To charm the most fastidious, are seen. 
 
 Marks of improvement shew on every side ; — 
 
 Chelsea lags not now in public spirit 
 
 Behind her neighbours, while still cling round her 
 
 The memories of the past, — of chivalry, 
 
 And tournaments, when ladies gave the prize 
 
 To brave and peerless knighthood. 
 
 Chelsea stands 
 Distinguished too by institutions dear 
 To patriot hearts ; — its College and Asylum. 
 In one the pleased spectator may behold 
 Old England's brave defenders, in their age 
 Reposing on their laurels : — peaceful there, 
 Within that noble home, — their Country's gift, 
 Where all conducing to a happy life, 
 (Religious solace, — pleasure innocent, — 
 And employ that makes the hours pass swiftly 
 And pleasantly along) are theirs till deatk 
 Here are pleasure grounds for recreation, — 
 Garden plots for willing hands to till ; — 
 A library, infirmary, and chapel ; 
 The latter hung with trophies that recal 
 Heroic deeds of yore, on fields manured 
 
MODERN CHELSEA. 15 
 
 With blood, when faithful hands in triumph waved 
 Old England's banner o'er the conquered foe, — 
 Eekindling fire, in eyes grown dim with age. 
 
 Age with penury mated, comfortless, 
 And friendless ; — seems sunless and despairing, — 
 Awaiting in mute apathy, its exit 
 From an unsympathetic world ; but here 
 Old age is blest : with every want supplied, 
 With every comfort crowned. 
 
 The Asylum, too. 
 Its younger sister, holds an honoured place 
 In memory. Here the soldier's orphan 
 Finds a happy home ; — each element required 
 To form a useful life, is here supplied. 
 Its royal founder speculated well, 
 For it has brought, and still is bringing now 
 A rich return to him, from grateful hearts 
 Of blessings : — thus he earned most worthily 
 The title that he bore,— "The Soldier's Friend." 
 
 The Chelsea of our days presents a scene 
 Far different from the past. Mark the river, 
 Which for uncounted years in solitude 
 Rolled grandly on ; then no vessels laden 
 
16 MODERN CHELSEA. 
 
 With the rich produce of the mine or field 
 
 Were borne upon its tide ; — no swelling sails 
 
 Of pleasure craft, with happy crews aboard, 
 
 Were wafted by the breeze, made musical 
 
 With merriment. Upon its banks, lonely 
 
 And unprotected, a few huts alone 
 
 Rose on the shore to tell that human kind, 
 
 'Mid the seclusion here, still claimed a place. 
 
 And exercised its power undoubted, o'er 
 
 All the inferior creatures. But now we see 
 
 Vessels of all kinds, innumerable. 
 
 Upon its surface ; while upon its banks 
 
 Mansions and wharfs are found. No longer now 
 
 Benighted travellers fear the treacherous shore, 
 
 As in the Stuart's reign, for on it now 
 
 (No more unfenced and unprotected left) 
 
 The Embankment vast, its head majestic lifts. 
 
 Crowned by the river wall, — ^the flood below 
 
 Defying, even when swelled by wintry rains : — 
 
 It chafes and spurns confinement, but submits. 
 
 No fear of overflow now breaks the rest 
 
 Of those who slumber near. Upon its brow 
 
 Inscribed might stand — ** For Beauty and Defence ; ' 
 
MODERN CHELSEA. 17 
 
 For it adorns the shore that it protects. 
 
 How few the inhabitants of Chelched were 
 When Domesday Book was writ : — at first one Church, 
 A building small and mean, served for her need ; 
 Now scores would be required, if to the Church, 
 Her teeming population all repaired 
 On Sunday morn, to pay with reverent mien, 
 Their weekly homage to the King of Heaven. 
 
 Chelsea, though once a cipher in the state, 
 Now in the Senate proudly takes her seat. 
 And by her members, speaks and votes on all 
 Pertaining to the welfare of the realm. 
 And gives her counsel both in peace and war. 
 Endued with lofty principles, — with hands 
 Pure from all venial stains, degrading ; — 
 Standing aloof with haughty scorn, from all 
 That interferes with conscience or with right, 
 May she thus keep, and exercise the trust 
 She holds, in honour, to the end of time. 
 
 'Twere vain to tell the inhabitants of note 
 In modern Chelsea, illustrious in art, 
 Science, or letters, for they are legion. 
 But there are some apart from those ; who have 
 
18 MODERN CHELSEA. 
 
 Upon our notice more peculiar claims, — 
 
 Cheyne, Sloane, Holland, and Cadogan stand, 
 
 Names linked to Chelsea, with domestic ties 
 
 That never can be broken (household words) 
 
 Keminding us of those who helped to make 
 
 Her what she is, and which shall still be heard 
 
 In future years, when we have passed away. 
 
 Even Cadogan's noble house, again 
 
 Has made its home in Chelsea, and its head 
 
 (Manorial lord) has now his rightful place : 
 
 Nor was his local influence long unfelt. 
 
 Houses enlarged and beautified, — pathways 
 
 Old and worn, remade ; — all seemed to brighten 
 
 Under some genial power, before unfelt ; — 
 
 And here long may he live the fragrant life 
 
 Of goodness, — to be the central point 
 
 Whence emanates the glow of happiness 
 
 To all his hand beneficent can aid, — 
 
 Even as the rose which in an atmosphere 
 
 With perfume fraught (its own sweet breathing) dwells. 
 
 Whatever changes may be wrought by Time 
 In future years, within our island home 
 Chelsea richly dowered, possessing now 
 
MODERN CHELSEA. 19 
 
 Both population and intelligence, 
 
 With rank and wealth, to give her utterance weight. 
 
 Has now the power, with others joined, to check 
 
 The democratic lawlessness, which seemed 
 
 At once to threaten, in its blind career. 
 
 Not only the hurtful and superfluous 
 
 To destroy, but also to o'erturn what age 
 
 Had stamped as sacred, and experience wise. 
 
 And now, dear native place, my hand has traced 
 Thy course from the beginning, small indeed 
 Like the first life-gush of a noble stream ; 
 And like it as it still flows on. 
 By tributaries swelled, until it gains 
 A volume that would bear the proudest ship 
 In safety on its breast. 
 
 Before thee now 
 A path illustrious opens, tread firm 
 And fearless ; — keep the narrow way and win 
 Fame for thyself, and to thy Country bring 
 Keflected lustre, whilst thou giv'st it aid. 
 
SPES ET FIDES INFEACTA. 
 
 Heb. iii. 17, 18.— Job. xiii. 15. 
 
 A man went out one summer's morn 
 
 To sail on the sunny sea, — 
 His eye was bright, and his heart was glad, 
 
 As joyously floated he. 
 
 He marked the splendour of the sky 
 
 With light unspeakable blest, 
 And (as clothed in a robe undefiled) 
 
 With glory resplendently drest. 
 
 And as he viewed the wide expanse 
 Of the wavelets dancing bright, 
 
 And breathed the unpolluted air 
 In a frame of holy delight, 
 
 He felt in his heart enkindle 
 
 A love that floods could not chill, 
 
 That unquenchable, like the Greek fire, 
 No power could darken or kill. 
 
SPES ET FIDES INFRACT A. 21 
 
 And his voice in exultant strains 
 
 Eose high as he vaulted along, 
 While " Gloria Deo in excelsis " 
 
 Pealed forth like an angel's song. 
 
 " I love Thee, my God, for the power 
 
 Thy lovely earth to behold, 
 When in majesty waves over all 
 
 The banner of beauty unrolled. 
 
 The sun in its glorious splendour, 
 
 Baptizing the land and the sea 
 In its dazzling effulgence, presents 
 
 A type most worthy of Thee. 
 
 And as all enraptured I gaze, 
 
 My heart is fain to confess 
 The magnificent works of Thy hands 
 
 No words can ever express. 
 
 In rapt adoration I bend 
 
 To Thee, the Author Divine 
 Of the heavens, and the earth, and above 
 
 Of the orbs unnumbered that shine." 
 
22 SPES ET FIDES INFRAOTA. 
 
 And so he rejoiced as he went 
 
 On his bright and happy career, — 
 
 There was sunshine without, while within 
 No haunting spectres appear. 
 * -^ -jf * * 
 
 But over the scene comes a change, — 
 The waves no longer at play 
 
 In the sunshine, like lambkins, seem now 
 Like wolves expecting their prey. 
 
 Dark ominous clouds overspread 
 The sky, like a funeral pall, 
 
 And in place of enchantment, there lies 
 The shadow of Death over all. 
 
 No warm gentle zephyr impels 
 His bark, it now rushes along, — 
 
 But " Gloria in excelsis " still 
 Is the burden of his song. 
 
 The hurricane wind that has driven 
 The waves to mountainous heaps, — 
 
 Wild, mighty, resistless, and grand, 
 To the far horizon sweeps. 
 
SPES ET FIDES INFRACTA. 23 
 
 The dark waves were his cathedral walls, 
 
 Lit up with the lightning's flash, 
 And for accompaniment he had 
 
 The loud rolling thunder's crash. 
 
 Now mingling with the mighty din. 
 As with maddening swiftness driven 
 
 Again the " Gloria " swelled, — then ceased, — 
 His song was finished in heaven. 
 
ON HEAEING THE BELL TOLLING AT THE 
 ABBEY OF ST. ALBAN'S. 
 
 The Abbey bell is speaking 
 With the voice of other times, 
 
 And the summer silence breaking 
 With its slow, sad, solemn chimes. 
 
 I list with a dreamy languor 
 
 As the sound goes booming by, — 
 
 That olden, ghost-like clangour. 
 Which dies in a wailing sigh ; — 
 
 The fitful cadence falling 
 
 On the incense-laden air. 
 Of scenes long past is telling. 
 
 And of quaint forms wandering there, - 
 
 Of monks who were sweetly chanting 
 Their vespers at close of day, 
 
 As the red rays came slanting 
 
 On those antique walls of grey ; — 
 
THE BELL OF ST. ALBAN'S. 25 
 
 Of those in by-gone ages, 
 
 Who with ready fingers skilled, 
 
 The missals illumined pages 
 
 With marvellous beauty filled, — 
 
 Of those who in ancient meadows, 
 In gardens and orchards were seen, 
 
 While (as now) the clouds' soft shadows 
 Moved over the sunlit green. 
 
 The weary waves come sweeping 
 
 In the sultry summer tide, 
 Like the dirge of mourners weeping 
 
 For a lost one by their side. 
 
 The bright earth, overcasting 
 
 With their melancholy spell, 
 For all not everlasting 
 
 Tolling out their pitying knell. 
 
LINES ON THE OPENING OF THE CHELSEA 
 THAMES EMBANKMENT. 
 
 May, 1874. 
 
 Our work is finished — now be given 
 Praise to the Lord of earth and heaven — 
 The massive river wall in pride, 
 Now rears its head to stem the tide ; 
 And, changed as if by magic hands, 
 A broad and solid pathway stands. 
 Where slime and fetid mud before 
 Covered the air-polluting shore. 
 Honour to all who strove to gain. 
 For us this gift — may it remain 
 Their monument. Upon its face 
 Their names may unborn ages trace. 
 In granite carved — that all may know 
 To whom this mighty work they owe ; — • 
 Freeman and Tite to head the whole, 
 That form the parish patriot roll. 
 
THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT. 27 
 
 Chelsea — a village famed of yore, 
 
 Nestling in trees, is so no more ; 
 
 Its power and wealth, and people claini, 
 
 A city's rights — a city's name. 
 
 This noble work completed now, 
 
 With crowning beauty binds her brow ; — 
 
 For this all Chelsea keeps to-day 
 
 In honour, joyful holiday. 
 
 Cast down the barriers ! Let it be 
 
 A road for all ; for ever free ; 
 
 Proclaim it now, with trumpet's sound, 
 
 While joy-peals from the bells ring round. 
 
 Enter now our glad procession. 
 
 In triumph march to take possession ; 
 
 Onward ! this auspicious day, 
 
 From the spot, where veterans grey 
 
 On their grounds — (a gallant band), 
 
 With hands upraised, saluting stand. 
 
 Then pass the spot, where once a king 
 
 Away state cares was wont to fling ; 
 
 And with his noble subject walk. 
 
 With witty and familiar talk ; — 
 
 Where famed Elizabeth was seen. 
 
28 LINES ON THE OPENING OF 
 
 Oft musing 'neath the foliage green \ — 
 
 Where Holbein's hand with finished grace 
 
 Made deathless many a princely face. 
 
 Then, onwards ! Pass the church that rears 
 
 Its walls that tell of bygone years ; 
 
 Salute it, for one worshipped here, 
 
 Whose humble chapel is more dear 
 
 To honest truthful hearts, than gems 
 
 Set round unnumbered diadems ; — 
 
 And Sloane, a name that all revere. 
 
 Rests from his science labours here. 
 
 The goal is reached — the task is o'er, — 
 
 The road is given for evermore ; — 
 
 For Labour's heavy tread — for Age, 
 
 That slowly makes its pilgrimage, — 
 
 For Youth and Health to meet the breeze. 
 
 Ruffling the river and the trees ; — 
 
 For invalids to saunter slow. 
 
 And watch the vessels as they go ; — 
 
 For rich and poor — an equal share. 
 
 As the all surrounding air ; 
 
 For these, and all, this road is free. 
 
 Sacred to all posterity. 
 
THE CHELSEA THAMES EMBANKMENT. 29 
 
 Now for tlie Queen and hers — three cheers 
 And may she live to lengthened years, 
 Honoured and loved — and never may 
 Old England see the hapless day, 
 When gallant hearts shall wanting be 
 To guard the Throne and Liberty. 
 
THE FEEEING OF THE BRIDGES. 
 May 24th, 1879. 
 
 IJSr MEMORIAM, 
 
 Chelsea appears in holiday attire, 
 Streamers are waving gaily on the breeze. 
 From house to house, and stretch across the road, 
 "While balconies in glowing drapery drest, 
 Light up the dull house fronts, and give the streets 
 A continental air. Welcomes flutter 
 On banners in the warm air, or, resting. 
 Speak from walls ; beside the crowded pathway 
 Stand Venetian masts festooned with streamers : 
 But little these would have availed without 
 God's glorious gift of sunshine ; this withheld. 
 All would have seemed a picture unfinished. 
 Cold and lifeless ; but with it, all was bathed 
 In one warm tint of harmony and joy. 
 The faces of the people young and old 
 Were lit by one expression ; all seemed bent 
 
THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES. 31 
 
 To honour him who came, at their request, 
 So willingly to sanction all they did, 
 And to declare their bridges free for ever. 
 Children will not forget this day, but tell 
 In future years their children what they saw : — 
 Their Prince and Princess with Royal kinsfolk 
 Without an escort came, trusting and fearless, 
 Through Chelsea's crowded streets : how peals from 
 
 bells 
 Rang joyous, and royal salutes were fired 
 Announcing his arrival ; how he came 
 With one beside him like his good angel, 
 Fraught with gentleness and beauty ; how he met 
 The parish magnates, stationed at the foot 
 Of Albert Bridge — come to do him honour ; 
 How he with courteous condescension heard 
 The address of Chelsea, and the fair Princess 
 With smiling thanks received the choice bouquet 
 Offered by Cadogan's Countess (Lady 
 Of the Manor) with graceful ease, 
 The gift of Chelsea's fair ones ; how children's 
 
 voices 
 Pealed forth anon — " God bless the Prince of Wales ;" 
 
32 THE FREEING OF THE BRIDGES. 
 
 How the band of embryo-aoldiers filled 
 
 The air with music ; how a veteran rank 
 
 Saluted as he past ; how above all 
 
 The poor were not forgotten : the infirm 
 
 And aged paupers had a spot assigned 
 
 Where they might see their future King without 
 
 The pressure of the crowd-r-their faces grouped, 
 
 (The sterner lines of age relaxed) smiling, « 
 
 Complacent with subdued enjoyment, thus 
 
 Forming a study an artist would have loved ; 
 
 How in one portion of the route the speed 
 
 Was checked that a sick child, held by its nurse 
 
 Up to a window, might behold the Prince ; 
 
 How at night the brilliant fireworks lighted 
 
 The heavens above, and from Old Thames beneath, 
 
 Eeflected bright, received a second birth ; 
 
 That thus the happy day was ended, one 
 
 On which heaven's special blessing seemed to rest. 
 
 SHIELD, PRINTER, SLOANE SQUARE, S.W.