THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 1*3 \r 
 
 -• ^^
 
 PETRONILLA 
 
 JliiL) othci iJocms 
 
 By FREDERICK GEORGE LEE 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE KINg'S HIGHWAY," " POEMS," ETC. 
 
 RIVINGTONS 
 
 Eontion, ©xfovB, anti (EambriligE 
 1869 
 
 [Seco?id Editio>i\
 
 4873 
 
 L4-98p 
 
 ^'h'cfatonj flotc 
 
 The first edition of this book, published in 
 1858, wa^ out of print in 1862. For a vokmie 
 of verses, the edition was not small. .Since the 
 latter^ period its author has been very frequently 
 asked to reprint it. He does so now, with a 
 few corrections and certain additions, including 
 his Oxford Prize Poem; thanking friends both 
 known and unknown, as well as several public 
 critics, for their generous kindness and valued 
 suggestions. 
 
 6, Lambeth Terrace, 
 
 London, S.E., June 1869. 
 
 «i '?':^r^'\
 
 TO 
 
 ^hc Jlcb. 3(ohn Oluarbs, Jun., MX 
 
 VICAR OF PREST13URY 
 
 NEAR CHELTENHAM 
 
 IN REMEMBltANCE OF MANY PLEASANT DAYS 
 
 SPENT TOGETHER AT OXFORD 
 
 THE FOLLOWING VERSES 
 
 ARE, WITH THE AUTHOR'S VERY SINCERE REGARDS, 
 
 MOST AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 DEDICATED.
 
 Contcnti5 
 
 Petroniixa 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 ©tfjcr yocms 
 
 Under the Hills .... 25 
 
 Alone ... ... 34 
 
 My Gu.vrdian Angel .... 38 
 
 The L.\dv Mary ..... 43 
 
 WH.vr OE THE Night ? . . . . 48 
 
 Fourteen Years Ago .... 50 
 
 "Dolor Meus in Conspectu Meo semper " 56 
 
 A Loss ...... 59 
 
 "Behold Thy Mother" ... 61 
 
 Evening Dews ..... 64 
 
 "In Tempore Vesperi erit Lux" . . 67 
 To Ambrose P. de Lisle, Esq., of Garendon 
 
 Park and Grace Dieu Manor . . 70
 
 Contrnts 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Earth and Heaven . . . . 73 
 
 Our Village and its Story ... 76 
 
 In Memoriam ..... 84 
 
 The Old Vicarage .... 87 
 
 A Garden in Autumn . . . . 91 
 On the Death of the First Bishop of Graham- 
 
 STOWN, May 16, 1856   • • 95 
 
 The Conversion of Constantine . . 97 
 
 Slowly fall the snow-flakes . . 10 
 
 The Author of "The Christian Vear" . 105 
 
 Christe Sanctorum decus Angelorum . loS 
 
 The Word was made Flesh . . . no 
 
 Strangers AND Pilgrims . . . 117 
 Veni Sancte Spiritus . . . .120 
 
 The Martyrs of Vienne and Lyons . 12^ 
 
 J
 
 PETRONILLA
 
 J3cti'oniU.i 
 
 ONE long Vacation, for tliree happy weeks 
 Of brightest eves, I visited in Kent, 
 With Ambrose Wynyarde at his father's house. 
 I scarce remember all I did and saw. 
 We saw so much, and the days quickly Hew ; 
 But the great hall, with broad oak timber beams 
 And panels of the linen-pattern round. 
 Is now before me. 
 
 Rows, on its lofty walls, 
 Of dusty tattered flags, antlers and arms : 
 ^0 -' •
 
 ^ctrontlla 
 
 While at the entrance end, of darkest oak, 
 
 A cumbrous gallery and heavy screen. 
 
 Upon its front were stars of falchions, 
 
 Gauntlets, chain armour, leathern jerkins, spears; 
 
 And quaint old pictures, stiff, grotesque, and grand: 
 
 White, flat-faced dames with jewelled stomachers, 
 
 One, with six rings upon her forefinger, 
 
 And two in dresses most elaborate. 
 
 Brocaded silk, — each detail given with care, —   
 
 White ground with open gilded pomegranates : 
 
 And in the corners stood their coats of arms. 
 
 Thin-bodied sprawling lions done in gold. 
 
 There were some knights to match these ladies fair, 
 
 Who, if their portraits did not flatter them, 
 
 Appeared excessively uncomfortable, 
 
 Angular joints with faces brown and brave : 
 
 Sir Godfrey bore a long broad-sword of state. 
 
 And wore a pointed beard. His grandson nigh
 
 ^Jrtronilla 
 
 Was decked in ribbons, pendent from his neck, 
 Long curling hair, \\ ith a vacant woman's face, 
 Made up the picture. 
 
 Above the space 
 Where tSvo dog-irons shone on the chimney floor, 
 Ro'se a confused mass of carved bkick oak : — 
 Adam and Eve with a leafless tree between. 
 The Ark and Dove with Noah's turbaned head 
 Put out of window ; while between and round, 
 Dragons de\'ouring each with energj' ; 
 Boys, fruit, and wheat-ears, while along the top 
 Ran this inscription, Dominus regtiavit. 
 
 An oaken table stood adowm the hall 
 
 So thick and broad and deep, that when our strength 
 
 United was put forth to move the thing. 
 
 It creaked but stirred not.
 
 lUrtronilla 
 
 A bay window there, 
 Filled in the head with pictured glass of saints, 
 Looked out upon the well-sunned, shaven lawn. 
 Round to the left, at daybreak, cawing rooks 
 Began their conclave, closed at five o'clock. 
 I listened to them when the eastern sun 
 First flushed the loftiest hills, then made the dew 
 Flash brilliantly like liquid diamonds. 
 
 Deep in the country, still the hours flew by, 
 Joy-sunned and fleet. We strolled about the park 
 Talking of Oxford and religious " views," 
 Sat down to chess, ransacked the librarj^. 
 Turned over heaps of Venice photographs. 
 Took ten-mile walks to see the churches round, 
 Grew tired of fishing, argued politics. 
 Or read the Laureate under broadening limes.
 
 ^Jftronilla 
 
 One afternoon pale, pensive Margaret, 
 
 The motherless only daughter of Sir George, 
 
 Gave us a manuscript reluctantly ; 
 
 Writing riiost unlike that at ladies' schools. 
 
 Her brother read it w itli his back on the sward, 
 
 And^ straw boating-hat upon his face 
 
 To cheat the sunshine. Bent knee upon knee, 
 
 Plucking the grass and flinging it away, 
 
 He paused to criticise kindly and with taste.
 
 Pctrontlla 
 
 II 
 
 OF old when first the Holy Name was known 
 Upon the Seven Hills, when timidly 
 The lone and spiritless slave found by it rest, 
 A Roman daughter learnt the will of God. 
 A gathered few assembled. One had come 
 From under eastern skies with joyous words. 
 Weak in the flesh, but mightily strong in grace, 
 To draw aside the veil between earth and heaven, 
 And point to glories unconceived beyond. 
 His words were powerful, and his flashing eye 
 Gave them fresh force, so that the listening girl, 
 With face in her palms, and blue wide-open eyes,
 
 IJctrDnilla 
 
 White elbows on a purple covering, 
 Wondered, was stirred and brushed a tear away. 
 
 desolate world, and weary, weary hearts, 
 In dimmer desolate, with plenty poor ; 
 No point to life, no aim, no end, no prize, 
 A changeless blank or never-changing gloom. 
 Powerful his words, he told of Eden's paths. 
 Where God with man walked in the cool of the day, 
 And of the Fall, and of the angel sword. 
 Eve brought in tleath, but Mary life eterne. 
 Weak the first Adam, but the Second strong. 
 The Second mighty in the strength of God. 
 Factum est Vcrhum Caro, Light of Light, 
 There never was an age when Thou wast not, 
 Begotten before the worlds, yet born in time, 
 Of Death the Conqueror and of Life the Source.
 
 y ctronilla 
 
 2 
 
 Message of power for weary, weary hearts ; 
 Angels first sang the canticle of praise, 
 And man takes up the chorus. Loud and long 
 It rings out down the ages. Listeners 
 Marvel awhile, but soon its import learn, 
 And reverent bow. The king in zone of gold. 
 The poorest outcast, the most abject slave. 
 Has heard the song and learnt the Love of God. 
 
 3 
 
 O blue-eyed one, with restless anxious glance, 
 Lady patrician gazing vacantly, 
 Now by the Tiber, now across the sea. 
 In Olive Garden and on Calvary's Hill,
 
 ^ctronilla 
 
 Or back again before Minerva's fane, 
 AVhere art thou now ? 
 
 Then powerfully he told 
 Of the glad tidings, clear, dogmatic, true. 
 He who five thousand souls one Pentecost 
 Had^v'on to the Church, now gained another soul ; 
 P'or Petronilla quailed at Peter's word. 
 Knelt at his feet and learnt the power of grace. 
 We know not how nor why. God's will be done. 
 One shall be taken and the other left. 
 Now were the world's allurements powerless. 
 Its blooming pathway barren, desolate. 
 So too Rome's thronged courts. The voice of 
 
 praise. 
 The honied words of flattery were harsh, 
 Yet was her vision never circumscribed.
 
 lo ^ctronilla 
 
 4 
 Like some far-strelching landscape from a hill, 
 The Church below was spread before her gaze. 
 Powerful, divine, resistless. Distant climes 
 Heard the clear summons only to obey. 
 That heavenly song which reached the shepherds' 
 
 ears 
 When Christ was born of Mary, and those words 
 Which on the Resurrection morn were heard — 
 " The Lord is risen indeed, and Death is dead" — 
 Are known and deeply loved. Single souls have 
 
 come 
 And mightiest nations. L^pon simple hearts 
 The sacerdotal character impressed. 
 Each age has known. The powerful Arm of God 
 Has ne'er been shortened, so have mighty works
 
 iJrlvonilla n 
 
 Been wrought below. Martyrs their palms have 
 
 won, 
 And saints their snowy robes and jewelled crowns, 
 Wanderers soul-weary have returned to Christ, 
 And blackest hearts become as white as snow. 
 Gloria in excehis. Grace is strong. 
 Come, heavy-laden, enter on \our rest. 
 
 5 
 She saw, one starry night, in lustrous dream. 
 
 The unending glories of the Church above. 
 
 Around the golden-gated City laj- 
 
 A rich sunned landscape. Hill and vale and wood 
 
 In gentle undulation. Brightest tints 
 
 Lay over each, gold, emerald, crimson ; 
 
 Frosted silver edging all, as moonlight.
 
 12 Petrontlla 
 
 When the skies are hid, fringes the tree tops 
 Of our poor earth below. The breeze around 
 Was heavily burdened with sweet odours rich, 
 While from Avithin the City came glad songs, 
 Rising and falling to the rippling plash 
 Of the o'erflowing streams of Paradise. 
 All this was the reward, the lot at last, 
 Of those who walked by faith and fought the fight. 
 
 6 
 
 Tell my Lord Antony I am not his. 
 He ne'er can pillow on my breast his cheek, 
 The fancied pressure gives me pain. Such joys 
 Are transient, earthly : shooting-stars of gleams 
 Of April sunlight. Gaze for a moment
 
 ^ctronilla 1-3 
 
 And you see but gloom. We seize such earth-joys 
 And they are gone, leaving a gaping void. 
 The pleasure coveted is changeless pain. 
 Tell my Lord Antony I am not his. 
 
 7 
 God made me for Himself, and I am God's. 
 In but not of the world, if so His will. 
 Let Memory clasp not any joy of earth. 
 Let Faith's keen glance rest on the Home above. 
 And Hope dwell there where Love shall be at last, 
 A full fruition — an eternal rest. 
 The summit flower of gi-ace on God's high hill.
 
 14 Pcttonilla 
 
 8 
 
 As years flew onwards to the eternal hills, 
 Like wondering eyes first gazing on the sea, 
 The faithful learnt that one whose soul had shone 
 Beauteous with grace, was known throughout the 
 
 world 
 As a saint of God. Eastward and westward. 
 On bright sea-shores of Italy and Spain, 
 When the morning star dear trembled o'er the 
 
 wave. 
 Or when the purple robe of Even lay 
 Upon the horizon, 'thwart the western sun. 
 Fringed with gold lustre ; fishers on the beach, 
 Knelt round a figure, softly smiliiig, and 
 Melodious sang, Ora pro nobis
 
 IJctronilla 15 
 
 Petroiiilla : grant us a great success, — 
 
 We toil for those we love, in the love of God,- 
 
 And bring us safely to the heavenly shores.
 
 i6 Pctronilla 
 
 III 
 
 LIFE is no longer pointless. Higher aims 
 And holier aspirations. Not the poor 
 thoughts 
 So weak and wateiy which are made girls' own 
 By mixing with their world, nor the thin talk 
 Of commonplace profound, nor gossips' words, 
 But one determined purpose, kind and good. 
 
 O pale-faced Margaret, follower of those 
 
 Who followed Christ, His blessing be with thee ! 
 
 The poor and outcast know thee. The young 
 
 child. 
 Timid and loving, looks up in thy face,
 
 13rtroni[In 17 
 
 And finds a true friend both for body and soul. 
 Under the sunshine thou art sunning all 
 With the choice benedictions of the Church; 
 And, when the white Moon looketh in at niglit, 
 Sees thy two thin, veined hands together placed, 
 And thy moist eye before a crucifix. 
 Thou lovest God, and others as thyself, 
 And thou shalt have exceeding great reward. 
 
 When blood-red War raged over eastern lands 
 
 One name, unblazoned in the newspapers, 
 
 Was known to those who lay parched up with pain, 
 
 Under the moonlight. Ministering she walked 
 
 From hill to flat, weary but grace-inspired — 
 
 Strong in His strength Who came at Pentecost, — 
 
 With beating heart and sympathizing soul, 
 
 To stanch the wound, to whisper words of hope, 
 
 B
 
 i8 ^rtronilla 
 
 And shed rich blessings over each and all. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Years afterwards, >vhen Change had done his work, 
 And the big world had moved widi steadiness, 
 I wandered in a church-porch open door; 
 Oak benches unobtrasive, all restored. 
 Where rich and poor together bent the knee ; 
 Enamel pavement, screen with gold and blue ; 
 An alabastrine altar, jewelled cross; 
 Three rings of tapers in the eastern part. 
 And windows glowing with rich coloured tints, 
 Jesus and Mary, Magdalene and John, 
 And Petronilla, with a little fish. 
 Daughter in Christ of the great Fisherman. 
 All these I saw and more. 
 
 In one side-aisle. 
 Looking east, a long, veined form in marble. 
 Clear, cold, and white, with quiet tranquil smile,
 
 y ft von ill a 19 
 
 And hands in prayer. One large full lily-bloom, 
 Lay on her rising breast, while underneath, 
 In gilded characters, this legend ran : — 
 Here lyeth Margaret Wynyarde. In the /lOpe 
 Of resurf:cction to eternal life, 
 She' sleeps in peace. Lord Jesus, hear our prayers. 
 Thy Petronilla was her patron saint.
 
 20 yrtronillci 
 
 IV 
 
 NE'ER would I see again old ^^'ynyal•de 
 Court, 
 The bright home of the friend, whose face and 
 
 voice 
 Will be before me ever till I die. 
 Alone, my loneliness would be most lone. 
 Ne'er would I tread again that ancient hall, 
 Or mark sun-shadows creeping o'er the lawn, 
 To darken door and roof with gathering gloom. 
 Father and son have passed from mortal ken, 
 And sleep their last sleep in the village fane. 
 In that side-aisle which glows with rich vemieil. 
 My friend of youth, my friend of college days, 
 With all that could make music for his soul
 
 iJftronilla 21 
 
 And spread his path with flowers ; great troops ot 
 
 friends, 
 Perpetual sunshine or blest silver day, 
 Bade long farewell to home, to friends, to all ; 
 And yielded up his soul to God Who gave. 
 Sire followed son within a little week. 
 To learn the mystery of the unseen world ; 
 While I li\e on to see the changes change, ' 
 To miss, by day and day, the friend of yore, 
 To fight Life's battle with a bad success, 
 To see the-little overcome the great. 
 To note the new aye vanquishing the old, 
 The vile and low o'ermastering the good, 
 To mark Decav work out his work divine, 
 And sorrow deepen for the widening blank 
 That leaves me lonelier in a lonely world, 
 ^V stranger tramping over rugged ways 
 To seek lost friends of yore, in the end, at home.
 
 OTHER POEMS
 
 tlnbcr the ^-ijill!^ 
 
 OLD iiome, old home, under the quiet hills,- 
 Ruddy Spring and sunny Summer. 
 Each in turn a welcome comer ; 
 Autumn, too, with red and gold, 
 Over copse and vale and wold, 
 Ever loved as a peaceful fold 
 Under the cjuiet hills.
 
 26 mnHcr tfjc |t?ills 
 
 II 
 
 Under the quiet hills, — 
 
 Sward of moss and banks of fern, 
 
 Wildest woods with never a turn. 
 
 Tangled brake and patches of green 
 
 Greet us unlooked for, and intervene. 
 
 Adown from beneath their craggy top, 
 
 Silverly glancing, and never stop 
 
 When Winter is past, clear trickling rills, 
 
 Where violets cluster and daffodils. 
 
 Shadow and sunshine there pass by, 
 
 Matching cloud and blue in the changeful 
 
 sky. 
 When the Summer grows old, I dream as I 
 lie 
 
 Under those quiet hills.
 
 IXnlJcx tijc ll)ill3 27 
 
 HI 
 
 Under those quiet hills 
 
 Seven gables, stony grey, 
 
 Stand looking over the vale ; 
 Hoarding many a sorrowful tale, 
 And telling a tale aUvay. 
 Seven gables with oak beneath, 
 
 And stone-bound windows small, 
 . Orange lichen upon the wall. 
 And a quiet around like the presence of Death. 
 Beeches with silver back look o'er 
 A sluggish pool from the wall to the door ; 
 While over the door, with iron-leaves rich, 
 Crumbles slowly an empty niche : 
 Carved fragments and wide-grown weed, 
 Where stood the figure of Etheldrede.
 
 28 mnticx tfjf ?iitlls 
 
 Within, dark panel and stony floor, 
 Gilded cornice and massy door, 
 Pictures and armour up on the Avail, 
 And a faded curtain across the hall, 
 Gathered up into dusty folds below, 
 And tied with an antique-looking boAv : 
 While beside it stands a broken lance 
 That once belonged to the king of France, 
 Who was taken prisoner by the son 
 Of old Sir Henry of Quarrendon, 
 Whose shield is a fesse between crescents three, 
 And his motto " By faith and constancy." 
 My chest on the casement. 
 
 The breeze, 
 though cool, 
 Scarcely motions the weedy pool. 
 Out in the pond there, just as they list, 
 The dace come up with a sudden twist :
 
 tlutirr tijr ?i?ills 29 
 
 « 
 
 I can't hell) watching the circles die 
 
 Though bright be the garden and blue the 
 
 sky 
 Here the shadows are broad and dun, 
 While there a lily enjoys ihe sun ; 
 Of that flower's death would a painter be 
 
 wary, 
 If painting the mission of Gabriel to Mary. 
 
 • . • • • 
 
 Firm box-hedge by the chapel wall, 
 Quinces mellowing, sunflowers tall, 
 And beyond, the rich peaches ready to fall : 
 Fruit to look at, picture to paint, 
 But could pencil preserve the rich odours 
 
 faint. 
 Of the old home under the hills ?
 
 muDcr U]t pjills 
 
 IV 
 
 Old home under the hills, — 
 
 Full five centuries have past by, 
 
 Poor are rich and low are high ; 
 
 While the earth has given a timely rest 
 
 To thousand thousands ujDon her breast, 
 
 And numberless shadows, early and late, 
 
 Have crept across the dial-plate. 
 
 Since the slab was raised and the oil Avas 
 
 poured 
 And this pile was offered to the Lord. 
 The lights were lit and the chapel named. 
 And awithering curse on the spoiler proclaimed. 
 The words of that curse are heard again 
 When the full m,oon shines through the window- 
 pane ;
 
 mnHcr tijc lilills 31 
 
 Tlio sleeping or wakeful tliose sounds will 
 
 reach, 
 Though none can discover who frames the 
 
 speech. 
 O'er just and sinner, o'er lowly and proud, 
 It broods like a breaking thunder-cloud ; 
 Each has known sorrow and keen dismay 
 From King Henry's time to this present day, 
 And six generations have passed away 
 
 At the old home under the hills. 
 
 Watching, kneel I day by day, 
 
 Friends and seasons pass away. 
 
 Lord, be Thou my perfect stay. 
 
 This jewelled Rood, with Mary and John,
 
 32 mnltx tijc ]i]ills 
 
 Is a picture ever to look upon : 
 Thou art with us, though Thou art gone. 
 Then, Lord, forgive, and take Thine own. 
 Let me prepare Thee an altar-throne. 
 For all is Thine, and Thine alone 
 
 Of the old home under the hills. 
 
 VI 
 
 Old home, true home under the hills, 
 Ruddy Spring and sunny Summer, 
 Each in turn a welcome comer ; 
 Autumn, too, with red and gold, 
 Over copse and vale and wold. 
 Still more loved, as a peaceful fold 
 Under the quiet hills.
 
 l\n'D(x tljf |l?ills 33 
 
 Now hangs no dark cloud above, 
 For the ever-burning lamp of love 
 
 Glisteneth under die hills ! 
 Ever flushing copse and wold, 
 Deeper tints of purple and gold 
 
 Stream down o\er the hills !
 
 JllOttC 
 
 A 
 
 LONE, in the noisy restless street ; 
 Thousands hurrying to and fro 
 Lonelier make me as I go 
 Creeping onwards with none to greet. 
 
 First far backward a sunnier day 
 
 Home-known faces in quiet dells, 
 Till up-and-down music of chiming bells 
 Brings me back as they comforting say, 
 Jesus and Mary were out at night, 
 When the winds were sharp and the stars were 
 bright.
 
 3 1 one 35 
 
 f 
 
 II 
 
 Then a glimpse of my after-delight, 
 
 Heart with heart and hand in hand, 
 A flood of sunshine over the land, 
 
 Autumn rich and Summer bright. 
 
 Yet Summer was short and Autumn poor, *" 
 Turbid streams and cloudy skies, 
 Now but darkness round me lies. 
 No red glare from an open door. 
 But Jesus and Mary were out at night, 
 When the winds were sharp and the stars were 
 bright. 
 
 Ill 
 
 No sweet voice or joyous smile, 
 
 No kind glance or bosom warm.
 
 36 Slonc 
 
 Morn and even, calm or storm, 
 Cold below, and none beguile. 
 
 Alone, alone, keen though it be. 
 
 The Olive Grove was keener still, 
 The Nails and Lance, the darkened Hill, 
 And all alone for love of me. 
 Jesus and Mary were out at night, 
 When the winds were sharp and the stars were 
 bright. 
 
 IV 
 
 Alone in the desolate, crowded street, 
 Dipping down with a curve of lights, 
 Shining silver, glistening sights 
 
 Right and left, but none to greet.
 
 ^loiu 37 
 
 Yon church windows, lit up for prayers, 
 Magdalene Saint though Sinner there ; 
 Lead me, Lord, her lot to share, 
 And let me tread the golden stairs. 
 For Jesus and ^Lary were out at night, 
 When the winds were sharp and the stars were 
 bright.
 
 ittj) ^luiriiiut ^119 c I 
 
 Nonne omncssjint adininisiratoriisJ>iritusi7t-ministeriwnmissi propter 
 eos qui hereditatem capient salutis ? 
 
 KIND Guardian of my youth, still ever tend, 
 Dear Angel fomi, 
 Who soothed my soul and dried my tears, a friend 
 In calm or storm. 
 
 Bright Messenger of God, be near me still. 
 
 When sin is strong, 
 Toward the far-distant land in joy or ill 
 
 Guide me along.
 
 fHu ffiuarlJtan '3lnscl 39 
 
 Lead me to Him, the Source of every grace, 
 
 Sweet Mary's Son, 
 Let me adore His Wounds and see His Face, 
 
 And I have done. 
 
 But while I Hnger here, temptations nigh, 
 
 Wean me from earth, 
 Show me the splendour of God's court on high — 
 
 The second birth. 
 
 Tell me of that bright land far o'er the hills. 
 
 That beauteous lies, — 
 Of peaceful grove and music-making rills 
 
 In Paradise : 
 
 Tell of the City of our Lord and God, 
 
 That needs no light. 
 Show me the emerald courts which Thou hast trod, 
 
 Where comes no night : —
 
 40 fHjj Guartiian 3ngcl 
 
 Tell of the crystal sea, and lamps of fire, 
 
 That mystic glow : 
 Speak of the chants that float round Heaven's 
 choir, 
 
 Unheard below ; 
 
 Save that the eye of Faith can sometimes glean 
 
 A glimpse of light, 
 A shadowed glory of that heavenly scene 
 
 Now veiled from sight : 
 
 Save that at evening's close, or midnight hour. 
 
 These notes are heard, 
 Now loud, now soft, now deep with heavenly 
 power, 
 
 And souls are stirred. 
 
 Strange sounds of moving waves and mystic songs. 
 Come floating by ;
 
 iHu €tuar!)ian Qngrl 41 
 
 Angelic whispers from the unseen throngs 
 Are heard and die. 
 
 Then tell how Martyrs wave their fadeless palms 
 
 Before God's throne, 
 Teach me the airs you sing — those endless 
 psalms — 
 
 To God alone. 
 
 Tell of the Queen of Saints at God's Right Hand* 
 
 In golden vest — 
 Of white-robed virgins crowned that near Her 
 
 stand 
 
 For ever blest. 
 
 Show me the Lamb of God, the Light Divine, 
 
 * Astitit Regina a dextiis Tuis in vestitu deaurato : cir- 
 cumdata varietate.
 
 42 fttg ffiuaritau "angcI 
 
 Who pleads for all, 
 If I am His, rich graces will be mine, 
 I shall not fall. 
 
 And when at last God calls me home to Him, 
 
 Guardian, be nigh, 
 Shield me when strength is low and sight is dim, 
 
 Then can I die. 
 
 The fears will cease, the darkness flee away, 
 
 The scales will fall. 
 Then evermore for me an endless day, 
 
 And God, my all in all.
 
 At he ICiibn ^Ylart) 
 
 A BALLAD 
 
 A GREY and desolate homestead, 
 A blank wall by its side, 
 A long and level line beyond, 
 Where the Lady Mary died. 
 
 One red rose by the garden gate, 
 
 One lily in yonder bed ; 
 The weeds how thick ! my heart how sick, 
 
 And the sun how fierce and red ! 
 
 It gleams upon the casements. 
 And falls upon tlie wall.
 
 44 ^!ic 3Latig HHarjj 
 
 It blisters every window-sill, — 
 It mocks the lonely hall, 
 
 Where the Lady Mary walked so fair 
 
 When she went to be a bride, 
 And where she lay on Saint Cuthbert's day, 
 
 With tapers at her side. 
 
 She went to Our Ladye's Church, they say, 
 The psalms and prayers were said, 
 
 And she vowed to obey her lord alway, 
 In love, at board and bed. 
 
 Seven days from the marriage morn, 
 
 Sunshine o'er the bride, 
 Seven short days had passed away, 
 
 And the Lady Mary died.
 
 <B, JSallaU 45 
 
 Nought of the Lady Mary here, 
 But a picture which doth not lie, 
 
 Long golden hair on a kirtle fair, 
 And a mild and soft blue eye : 
 
 Nought of the Lady Mary here, 
 
 But a ])icture in the hall, 
 Bright at noon when the sun upcreeps 
 
 The dial upon the wall. 
 
 In yon church sleeping, while above, 
 'With claspt hands on her breast. 
 
 Calm looking toward the sun-rise. 
 In marble. God ^ive rest : 
 
 <b' 
 
 Christ, give her rest, let each one pray, 
 
 In charity Avhen he goes, 
 At morning grey to the altar steps 
 
 Where the lamplight softly glows.
 
 46 Zi)c Haig fllarg 
 
 The bare and desolate homestead 
 Is more lonely when day is dead, 
 
 And the pine-tops are crimsoned by the sun, 
 That goeth down blood-red. 
 
 Dark against the deep blue sky, 
 
 Darker where lilies float, 
 With rank grass round, the waters sleep, 
 
 A black and stagnant moat. 
 
 A tenantless silent homestead. 
 
 The pale moon by its side, 
 Making silver tints on death-struck pines 
 
 Where the Lady Mary died. 
 
 Lonely when the sunshine falls. 
 Or the moon walks up the sky, 
 
 Lonely, too, when the stars die out, 
 And the twilight passeth by.
 
 "a Ballati 47 
 
 Let each one, crossing the barren moor, 
 Say one " Our Father" at least, 
 
 That the Lady Mary be made once more 
 A Bride at a Marriage Feast.
 
 mhiit nf the llight? 
 
 WHAT of the night ? what of the night, 
 Blue and starry and cold, 
 Silver mists in the grey twilight 
 
 Over the level wold ? 
 Forward and backv/ard, thought on thought, 
 
 Others have gazed before. 
 Souls are precious, though earth is nought, 
 And bright the golden shore. 
 
 What of the night ? what of the night ? 
 Pales the radiant moon.
 
 Smfjat of tfjc iligfjt? 49 
 
 Stars die out in uncertain light, 
 
 And morning cometh soon : 
 Morning dawns and sorrows creep back, 
 
 Unrest in the golden ray, 
 Long is the night, but certain the track 
 
 To the everlasting day. 
 
 D
 
 J;iDurti:cit ^carjs Jlgo 
 
 BLUE and black transparently, 
 Out of the glare of the mounted sun, 
 Now do the waters evenly lie. 
 And the lank weeds point to the bright blue sky, 
 With orange in place of dun. 
 Clear and sharp transparently, 
 Motionless lie the weeds, 
 In and out below the dark fish swim 
 In curve and circle then up to the brim. 
 Moving the crispy reeds.
 
 J7ourtccn gears Sgo 51 
 
 II 
 
 Shaded I lie 
 
 Under the sky, 
 While the tank of the moat is just hard by; 
 The weeds are as thick, and the water as low, 
 As they were some fourteen years ago. 
 Look ! the fish will dart off to the rushes thick 
 When I fling in this paring of alder-stick ; 
 
 There they go, 
 
 Down below, 
 
 I told myself so. 
 And 'tis just as they did fourteen years ago. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Shaded I lie 
 Under the sky. 
 Now the sun glares, for the clouds have past by ;
 
 3- 
 
 JourtEcn gears ^go 
 
 I watch that shadow go over the wold, 
 Over the wall and across the lane, 
 To put out the gold in that window-pane : 
 O'er yonder waggon and barley-load, 
 And quickly athwart the chalky road. 
 Field and valley and village green. 
 Lines of copse to the left of the scene : 
 Now it darkens the sheep in the distant fold 
 As I watch it pass slov/ly across the wold. 
 To shade the hills of purple and gold. 
 
 IV 
 
 Never, I ween. 
 So joyous a scene. 
 As with Alice and Mary and Geraldine, 
 A drooping lid, 
 A voice sweet and low,
 
 JFourtrrn grais 3[go 53 
 
 And a laughing eye, — 
 Who were here b}- the moat fourteen years ago, 
 And now are sleeping all in a row, 
 By the churchyard cross where the sunbeams 
 glow. 
 There they lie, and people are wary 
 Of pressing the earth over Alice and Mary ; 
 At each grave, careful, they walk between, 
 And the same is done for Geraldine. 
 
 God give them eternal rest, 
 Like John, a place upon Jesu's breast ; 
 Then a broidered robe and a lily-flower, 
 And a fillet of Gold for :Mary's Bower. 
 Radiant sunlight, company blest : 
 God soon grant them eternal rest.
 
 54 irourtccn gears ^ga 
 
 V 
 
 Shaded I lie 
 
 Under the sky, 
 With the dark blue water sleeping by. 
 Gnarled oak-arms, brawny and old, 
 And bright leaves over me, green and gold, 
 Making intricate trellis-work where the blue 
 Of the diamond sky comes peeping through 
 At the drowsy gnats flocking the air. 
 
 VI 
 
 Just three times 
 
 Must have sounded the chimes. 
 And another chime has begun. 
 Clear and bright transparently 
 
 Under the glare of the noontide sun
 
 JFouvtccn gfafs Stflo 55 
 
 Still do the waters evenly lie, 
 
 To image the blue of the cloudless sky, — 
 
 Why do I think of eternity, 
 
 And why of the death of Time?
 
 '' Dolor illcus iitCoitspcctuiUco semper" 
 
 (To E. B.) 
 
 BEHIND the rocks, before the crispy sands, 
 Where the bkie waves come up towards 
 Nazareth, 
 Sun-ridged and golden, John and Jesus played. 
 The sunshine fell in splendour, and the sun — 
 Misty and dazzling white — was overhead. 
 A line of brilliance semicircular 
 Lay round the bay, while brightly far beyond 
 The city-walls and homes stood boldly out.
 
 Dolor ftlcus in Consprctu fflro scinprr" 57 
 
 Below there bloomed no flowers, but up the rocks 
 The fairest blossoms hung, from which sweet 
 
 scents 
 Spread and rose upward 'neath the evening star. 
 Thrice did the elder-born essay to reach 
 The beauteous clusters, but the cruel rock, 
 Jagged and keen, bade him no longer strive. 
 
 II 
 So Mary's Son, with smile and loving look, 
 Would, with a resolute will, gather the flowers. 
 Below, the sands were barren, bar^, and dry. 
 Steep were the rocks and sharply dangerous. 
 Yet still He clomb their rugged, stony sides. 
 Blood starting from His Hands, the dolorous way ; 
 Anon the clustering blossoms fell, and John, 
 Gathering them up, enwove a coronal,
 
 5B "Qolor fHcus in C^onspcrtu fHco sctnpcr" 
 
 And placed it reverent upon Jesus' brow. 
 Just then, a troop of merry children came 
 And sang a joyous canticle in His praise; 
 Kneeling around, in innocent, childish play, 
 They called Him King, and kissed His wounded 
 
 Hands, 
 So were His sorrows ever in His sight.
 
 T 
 
 Jl 2:0 5 5 
 
 I 
 
 HEY have buried her here to-day, 
 Sink, sun, too joyous and bright. 
 They have buried her here to-day, 
 Come, deepening grey twiUght, 
 Stay, lingering grey twihght, 
 And afterwards come the night. 
 
 II 
 They have buried her here to-day, 
 
 Sorrow and darkness for rne, 
 They have buried her here to-day,
 
 6o a 3Loss 
 
 By the broad anrl unquiet sea, 
 By the restless, soothing sea, 
 In its wild immensity. 
 
 Ill 
 They have buried her here to-day, 
 
 When my burning tears were shed, 
 They have buried her here to-day, 
 
 And my heart grows heavy as lead, 
 My heart grows heavy as lead. 
 And my grief is deep for the silent dead.
 
 "iGcholli thij another" 
 
 A(i()LDEN-haired child, with large blue eyes, 
 Gathering violets fair : 
 " Where do you come from, little girl?" 
 " I am going home out there." 
 
 The chubby hand cannot grasp the flowers, 
 So they fall on the dusty track ; 
 
 The shy one's fears outforce a few tears, 
 And she looketh taken aback. 
 
 " And what prayers do you say, Httle maid — 
 Tell me what prayers you say?"
 
 62 Bcfjolli tljg fHotfjcr 
 
 " ' Lighten our darkness,' and ' Pray God bless,' 
 And the ' Our Father ' alvvay." 
 
 " I put my hands together, Hke this, 
 
 When I go to bed alone. 
 And I always say what my mother taught." 
 
 Then she said in monotone : 
 
 " Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 
 Bless the bed I lie upon. 
 Four corners to my bed. 
 Four angels at my head : 
 One to sing and one to pray. 
 And two to carry my soul aw^ay ; 
 And if I die before I wake 
 I pray to God my soul to take 
 For Jesus Christ our Saviour's sake. 
 
 Amen."
 
 aSffjolU tijw fHotfjcr 63 
 
 "And where is your mother who taught }'ou this, 
 
 My good little clever lass ?" 
 " She's not at home now, for they've put her below, 
 
 Under the churchyard grass. 
 
 " So every day when I'm out at play, 
 
 I go and talk to my mother, 
 And give her some flowers." 
 
 If one is gone, 
 
 Methought, you have Another.
 
 ^bcning xlrtos 
 
 SONG* 
 I 
 
 SOFTLY night dews fall, 
 When the moonbeams quiver, 
 Flashing o'er the hall, 
 
 Dancing o'er the river. 
 As when snow-storms cease, 
 
 Bloom sweet violets vernal, 
 Toil gives place to peace, 
 
 Earthly, then eternal. 
 
 * Set to music by W. Borrow : London, Metzler.
 
 Cljruing Drius 65 
 
 Studding Heaven's floor, 
 
 Stars tell in their shining 
 Of Hght evermore, 
 
 After day's dedining. 
 Softly night-dews fall. 
 
 When the moonbeams quiver, 
 Flashing o'er the hall; 
 
 Dancing o'er the river. 
 
 n 
 Wondrous grace descends. 
 
 Like the dews at even, 
 Turning foes to friends 
 
 Who throng the stairs of Heaven. 
 After gloom and tears, 
 
 Breaks the day unending ; 
 
 Months, nor days, nor years, 
 E
 
 66 (Sbcuing ScbJS 
 
 Blessings aye descending. 
 There, in Paradise, 
 
 Rays of splendour falling, 
 Ceaseless songs arise, 
 
 Choir to choir is calling-; 
 Here, dews fall apace, 
 
 When the moonbeams quiver. 
 There, the source of grace, — 
 
 God's o'erflowing River.
 
 ''Ill ucmporc llcspcri crit Xii.x" 
 
 A 
 
 LONG the east are lines of light, 
 Paling stars in the silent morn, 
 A pathless way with her silver horn 
 
 Takes the moon antl wanes the night. 
 
 Waiting, waiting, here I lie, 
 
 I fear the motion of my breast, 
 Ever languor, never rest, 
 
 Waiting, waiting patiently. 
 
 The waves come up to the desolate shore, 
 
 Wild and hollow, a shell-like noise. 
 Never again that smile, that voice. 
 
 Till comes the unending evermore.
 
 68 ' "£n (Tempore ilrspcvi cvit 3Lui' 
 
 Spring and Summer, sun and showers 
 Falling o'er the barren land, 
 I watch the dry and sparkling sand. 
 
 And ne\er hnow the blooming flowers. 
 
 Bare-branched tree, no cloud to pass : 
 
 One blue flower between the stones, 
 One hope that my aching bones 
 
 Soon rest under the waving grass. 
 
 Waiting, waiting, here I lie, — 
 
 Fevered forehead, bosom hot, 
 Almost black forget-me-not, — 
 
 Four long months so patiently. 
 
 Five new moons may I never see, 
 
 Deeper griefs I cannot bear, 
 Keener sorrows I could share. 
 
 Trustingly, resignedly.
 
 ** "En rrmparc Frsprrt rrit ILui" 69 
 
 Christ, can pardon be for me ? 
 
 I am weak but Thou art strong, 
 Way uncertain, pathway long, — 
 
 In the evening light shall be. 
 
 Brighter glows at e\-e the west, 
 
 Golden, orange, crimson -red. 
 Death by life and both are dead, 
 
 Evening glory, perfect rest !
 
 ^0 ilmbvosc p. be Xislc, (Esq. 
 
 0/ Garejidon Park and Grace Dim Manor 
 
 THEY wrong us when they say we plot and 
 plan, 
 We frame no schemes, nor look beyond to-day, 
 We put our trust in God and not in man. 
 Can it be right to hope and wrong to pray ? 
 O for that age when Holy Church was One, 
 Visibly One, and the world wondering gazed ; 
 But now the scoff of Unbelief is heard, 
 God's angels grieve. His saints stand all amazed
 
 Co 'Ambrose {i. tit liislr, lEsq. 
 
 At man's sad lack of faith. But are there none 
 Whose inmost souls are with deep sorrow stirred- 
 Who, when the twilight deepens into day, 
 When Earth is gilded by the sunny sky, 
 And when the stars are clustering up on high, 
 For peace and Unity devoutly pray ? 
 
 II 
 
 Yea, even so, God and the Saints be praised ; 
 Numberless prayers, like incense rise above, 
 Not a few pairs of hands are upward raised 
 To Thee, O Source of Might and Fount of Love. 
 Those words of Jesus are rich words divine, 
 That even as He was with His Father One, 
 So each to each might all the faithful be, 
 And love the Father as He loved His Son. 
 Lord, if it be Thy \\'ill— our trust in Thee —
 
 JTo ^mbrosr y. tic ILisIr, lEsq. 
 
 Listen and grant, for every grace is Thine, 
 Thine to disperse and Thine alike to draw. 
 So strengthen us to keep Thy perfect law, 
 Knowing Thy gracious Will, teach us to be 
 One with each other and so One with Thee.
 
 (Earth anb l^caUcit 
 
 THE silver lake is sleeping, 
 Its ripi)ling waves at rest, 
 The stars their watches keeping, 
 
 Are mirrored on its breast, 
 The harvest-moon upcreeping 
 
 - Behind the mountain's crest. 
 
 The convent-bell is ringing. 
 
 Its chapel windows glare, 
 
 While soft unearthly singing 
 
 Floats on the drowsy air : 
 
 Towards Heaven the angels Avinging, 
 Those earthly songs upbear.
 
 74 fSartfj nnH ?t?cabcn 
 
 Years pass— the lake is sleeping, 
 
 Years pass — come out the stars, 
 
 Those souls that watch were keeping, 
 Rest within Heaven's bars, 
 
 Fled now their pain and weeping. 
 
 Healed now their wounds and scars. 
 
 Yon rugged mountain hoary, 
 
 That harvest-moon that glowed, 
 How tell they still the story. 
 
 And point they out the road ! 
 Hills sunned with golden glory. 
 
 And hearts without a load. 
 
 True that the end is nearing. 
 
 Pale frame and closed eye, 
 
 Though winter skies are clearing, 
 
 And spring once more is nigh ;
 
 Eartlj anlr IRcabtn 75 
 
 « 
 
 Yet each one death is fearing, 
 
 And all must one day die. 
 
 At last Heaven's sea is gleaming, 
 
 The seven lamps are hung. 
 
 The light of God is streaming 
 
 O'er race and kind and tongue ; 
 
 The sapphire throne is beaming, 
 
 And the endless chorus sung.
 
 (Dili' 13iUagc iinli its Stovi) 
 
 (To A. P.) 
 
 A PLEASANT country, dale and hill and 
 wood, 
 Village and homestead round for miles outstretcht. 
 Below, an old grey gabled manor-house 
 Half hidden in trees, with a dark stagnant moat. 
 Whose sluggish waters move not all day long ; 
 And chapel ruins ivy-buried in elms, 
 Deep in the valley stand below the copse. 
 
 Through yon white rocks where larches crown the 
 stone :
 
 -*   Owx Fillagr an'U its 5toru 77 
 
 From distant hills, o'er many an emerald field, 
 A silver rivulet glancing in the sun, 
 Now shadowed o'er, now golden, and now lost. 
 Leaps on the jutting stones, and sparkling falls 
 With ceaseless plash into a broad clear pool. 
 Lichens and mosses, bindweed, ferns, and glass, 
 Thick fringe its borders and creep up the rock. 
 At eve, when long dark shadows slanting fall, 
 Scythe-bearing labourers across the stile, 
 Village-ward wending, make the spot less drear. 
 At that wild corner, where o'erarching trees 
 Make deepening shades, and grass grows coarse 
 
 and rank : 
 Where the toad lives and poisonous fungi thrive 
 With purple hemlock and the snakeweed dark, 
 An icy shudder steals the peasant o'er 
 When the bat flies, and the first star comes out, 
 Should his step bear him thither.
 
 78 Oiix i'illagc anft its Stovg 
 
 For of yore, — 
 The tale is told at nights by a winter's fire, — 
 A powerful lord, known all the country round 
 For deeds which make the faithful link his name 
 With men of Belial, plundered Holy Church. 
 Chalice and shrine and rich embroidery, 
 Piles set apart for God, and goodly lands 
 Became his own : reward for deeds of night 
 Effected for the king. But as of old — 
 ^Vhen the strange Hand out-traced upon the Avail, 
 At Babel's impious feast, a doom of woe 
 As punishment for sacrilege, — God's Arm 
 In retribution was uplifted there. 
 
 'Twas Autumn time, one breathless sultry eve, 
 A leaden sky and fleecy drifting clouds 
 Told of a gathering storm .... fearful and dire 
 The thunder echoed loud. A withering flash, —
 
 ©ur ITinagc anU its 5torn 79 
 
 Righteous, O Lord, art Thou, Thy judgments 
 
 true, — 
 Left him a stricken bloodless festering corpse. 
 All saw God's Finger, and no human arm 
 Bare him to burial, so for many a year 
 His bones lay whitening in the long rank grass. 
 
 This tale is lianded down from sire to son, 
 
 And all receive the moral it conveys. 
 
 Much faith exists here still. This spot was ne'er 
 
 Cursed with those importations from abroad 
 
 Three centuries ago ; and later still 
 
 The folk scarce knew when Laud lay down his 
 
 life 
 In bold defence of lasting changeless truths, 
 And Charles was killed by rebels. In this place 
 We never had the Puritans — thank God ! 
 Ten miles 'cross country at the ISIinchenford,
 
 8o ©ur jfclillagc ant) its Story 
 
 A troop of scoundrels rode into the Church, 
 Destroyed some niches rich with images ; 
 Baptized their horses at the Norman font, 
 Smashed every window — left the priest half dead, 
 Quoted some Scripture texts, then rode away 
 To do the same kind offices elsewhere, 
 But never crossed our parish boundary. 
 
 To the left, through oak and beech, a broad bright 
 
 road 
 Leads to the olden Church and ancient cross. 
 Here a high-gabled house, with low-roofed sheds, 
 And half a score of huge round ricks behind. 
 There a long string of white-washed cottages 
 With ridge irregular, now dark, now gold ; 
 And there the village green, where four roads 
 
 meet. 
 The sign-post and the stocks ; and, far beyond,
 
 ©ur Fillagr anti its Storu 8i 
 
 This little brook, through orchard, field, and moor, 
 Marked out by willow-trees, grows deep and 
 
 broad. 
 On still, through yon wide valley thick with leaf. 
 Its course is visible. By tower and spire 
 And farm, — by lordly hall and hamlet lone, 
 Then in a dim dark wood its path is lost. 
 Far over vale and moor and copse-clothed hill, 
 And blushing cornfields, ripe with golden grain, 
 Bold mountains rise, grey with an autumn mist, 
 Shaded by cloud, or purpled by the sun : 
 And over all rich tints, while gleams of light 
 Make indistinct the landscape, far and near, 
 
 Give me such village scenes. I hate your town — 
 
 Your quiet town where all talk politics, 
 
 Oppose the church-rate and abuse the Pope ; 
 
 F
 
 82 ©ur IJillagc anti its Storg 
 
 Of schisms full and maiden scandal-mongers. 
 Where, at the dinner-hour of plain poor folks, 
 Tract-hawking women — begging weekly pence 
 To fatten some sleek scoundrel Ireland-ways, 
 Who blights a soul with half a bowl of soup, 
 Making a hypocrite or infidel. 
 And does the devil's work, — go simpering round. 
 And cities like not me. The busy crowd 
 Elbow and jostle all green country-folk. 
 That one is glad to get back to the fields. 
 Ten miles from any town, without a coach. 
 From any railway station three hours' drive. 
 Give me such village spots. Evil is here, I know, 
 But less than there. Your modern ways 
 And nineteenth-century improvements all 
 Are not attractive here. Dissenting souls, — 
 Who stand to the Faith as Pharaoh, Egypt's 
 King,
 
 ©iir FiIKigc anli its Storu 83 
 
 Once stood to Israel,- — don't bless us here. 
 We've no such pile as Zion preaching-house, 
 So Faith's not quite extinct. In this respect 
 We're better off than most small country towns. 
 And though we don't possess an Institute, 
 Where tradesmen's boys discuss the newspaper, 
 And any subject of philosophy, 
 Science, theology, or politics. 
 We're none the worse for that. They learn, not 
 
 teach, 
 In this our village, as folks did of old 
 When David Wilkie's pencil was at work, — 
 An anxious gathering to hear tlie news. 
 Only put Inkermann for Waterloo, 
 Raglan for Duke, and Russian foe for French, 
 And then the change appears no change at all. 
 
 1853.
 
 In iHcmoi'iam 
 
 I^HE air was warm, the young leaves still, 
 The eastern heaven was pale, 
 A braid of sunshine girt the west, 
 
 A star hung o'er the vale. 
 Ring out, yon solemn bell, ring out, 
 
 O'er wold and valley far, — 
 Ring out, a soul absolved has fled 
 
 Beyond the evening star, 
 Another soul is called away 
 
 To God's dread judgment-bar. 
 
 A kindred soul left those it loved. 
 
 When a long-past year grew old,
 
 In fHcmoriam 85 
 
 And dull November's breath had changed 
 
 To brown the fields of gold. 
 His dust awaits the angel call, 
 
 Beneath an altar stair ; 
 Christ give eternal rest at last 
 
 And a meeting in the air, 
 A flashing glimpse of the sapphire street, 
 
 And then a meetin<? there. 
 
 So now on the cold, cold earth below, 
 
 We three are all alone, 
 To us May-blossoms tell of death. 
 
 And Autumn of pleasures flown. 
 Yet strange year-voices, speak ye on, 
 
 How dull is Memory say, — 
 How cold is Love, how weak is Faith, 
 
 And bid us ever pray
 
 86 Jin fHcmavtam 
 
 That we each may know the strong Right Hand, 
 At the awful judgment-day. 
 
 And now sweet Spring is here again, 
 
 And sunshine robes the hill ; 
 Once more the solemn bell rings out, 
 
 Then all around is still. 
 Before the Cross let prayers ascend, 
 
 Granted through Him Who lies 
 On the bright altar-throne above, 
 
 A perpetual sacrifice. 
 Lord, give eternal rest to each, 
 
 And a home in Paradise : 
 At last may we see Thy Face and sing 
 
 The chant that never dies.
 
 Uhc oil) Dicauagc 
 
 I REMEMBER, in the warm sunlight, 
 Knee-deep in the browning hay, 
 The quaint old Vicarage-house that stood 
 
 By the side of the public way. 
 On its many gables broad trees flung 
 Their shadows black and grey. 
 
 A narrow world was all I knew, 
 
 Joys crowding, hopes and fears. 
 
 Life seemed an endless spring-time then, 
 With April shower-like tears,
 
 88 s:i)c ©Iti Ftcarage 
 
 But sorrows have come, all spectre-like, 
 With the shorter deepening years. 
 
 I remember the hall and entrance. 
 Each nook, each flower and tree, 
 
 The roses by the garden gate, 
 The cowslips on the lea. 
 
 The golden sunlight on the grass, 
 And the river brisrht and free. 
 
 'to' 
 
 It was the spring-tide of our life, 
 But now those hours have past. 
 
 And Autumn's colours have been here 
 And Winter's biting blast : 
 
 It is no more a home for us now. 
 But there will be a home at last. 
 
 I remember the pictures on the wall, 
 And the oaken roof so low.
 
 Cfjc ©lU ricaragt 89 
 
 The semicircle round the fire, 
 
 And the embers' crimson glow, 
 
 The Christmas gathering seems a fact, 
 Though things are altered so. 
 
 That home is now a home no more. 
 
 Another home more fair 
 Hears voices new within its door, 
 
 Strange footsteps on the stair ; 
 Some trees are dead, and some have gro\\Ti, 
 
 •For Change runs riot there. 
 
 The only things that have not changed 
 
 Are the river sparkling by, 
 The golden sunlight on the gi-ass, 
 
 The stars in the deep blue sky. 
 And the noble church-tower, grey and broad, 
 
 That riseth proudly by.
 
 90 CIjc (DID Ftcarasc 
 
 Death has wrought a cruel work, 
 A certain reckoning stands, 
 
 Come a quiet for the soul 
 In Paradisal lands, 
 
 Then spring eternal, unconceived, 
 A House not made with hands.
 
 Jl 6iU*bcn in Autumn 
 
 THICKLY the dew lies on leaf and mead, 
 The lily droops its head, 
 The wild clematis sheddeth its seed, 
 
 And the woodbine flowers are dead. 
 Beside those graves the grass grows long, 
 
 Silvered with Autumn's breath, 
 Yon golden copse has no sound now, 
 And all things tell of Deatli : — 
 Death, though the snow-drops bloom 
 
 Or glares the sultry sun, 
 Fix'd is man's changeless doom — 
 His race soon run.
 
 92 ^ Garticn in Stttumn 
 
 The dry leaves in the gravel-walk, 
 
 And the winds that bear them away, 
 In their hollow mysterious Autumn talk 
 
 Mutter of death and decay ; 
 Deep chimes out-knell from the ivied tower 
 
 Saying one more day is dead : 
 Pale grows the elm and sere the bower 
 
 And the oak-tree a deeper red : 
 
 Awhile the roses bloom 
 
 When southern swallows fly. 
 
 Autumn tells of the tomb, 
 Says " All men die." 
 
 Little Nell with a book in a dusky room 
 Looks up to nod as we meet, 
 
 The bright sparks deepen my autumn gloom. 
 For they light up a vacant seat. 
 
 No joys below could one grief beguile.
 
 ** ' ^ Gnrtirn in 'autumn 93 
 
 The sorrow one jMay-morn ga\-e 
 To us a last glance at her loving smile — 
 To our mother a churchyard grave. 
 Resting beneath the grass 
 
 Upon Earth's tranquil breast, 
 Cloud and sunshine pass, 
 Sunshine give and rest. 
 
 There's one fair spot with beauty rife, 
 
 A garden where four streams meet, 
 One, the celestial River of Life, 
 
 Ever flows through a golden street, 
 No decay nor changes are tliere, 
 
 No twilight nor starlight nor moon, 
 But fadeless blossoms perfume the air 
 
 Through an endless summer noon ; 
 
 Here, Autumn and AVinter are ours, 
 And here a loved one dies,
 
 94 ^ (Savtirn in Slutinnn 
 
 O for the joyous bowers 
 Of Paradise. 
 
 Still thick lies the dew on the mead, 
 
 Still droops the lily its head, 
 Still the clematis sheds its seed, 
 
 And the woodbine flowers lie dead. 
 Over the graves still the grass grows long, 
 
 Silvered with Autumn's breath. 
 Still from the yew-tree no requiem-song, 
 
 Though all things tell of death. 
 
 Autumnly such is of sight. 
 
 But the streams by all may be known, 
 
 Faith pierces the shadows of Night 
 And sees the White Throne.
 
 (Dn the Ilcath of the Jirst $3i5hop 
 of SnihamotolDit 
 
 MAY 1 6, 1856 
 
 FEARLESS thou wentest, nerved with strength 
 • from God, 
 To plant the standard of the cross on high, 
 To tell how He Who formed the earth and sky 
 Was born of Mary, and on earth once trod : 
 Of Gabriel's message, and of Bethlehem's star, 
 Of Calvary's Rock, and of rich Joseph's grave : 
 Of Him Who reigns above Heaven's golden bar. 
 And ever pleads His Wounds mankind to save.
 
 96 (Dn lljf Dfatlj of tijc iFirst Bisijop of Graljamstoion 
 
 And now thou art no more : thy voice is still, 
 Thy hand to bless shall ne'er again be raised— 
 Thy course is done. If thou hast done His AVill 
 Who gave thee special gifts, His Name be praised. 
 Lord, bestow peace, now his brief conflict o'er. 
 His soul soon reach Heaven's bright and golden 
 shore.
 
 ^hc Conbcrciiou of Concitantinc 
 
 D 
 
 OWN the northern highways tramping, 
 From dark forests, broad and hoar, 
 From the fastness, from the valley. 
 
 From the inland, from the shore. 
 Sweep' the hordes of wild barbarians, 
 
 With a war-cry shrill and long ; 
 Sacking Rome for sake of plunder. 
 
 Is the burden of their song. 
 They are gathered, where o'er levels 
 
 Purple shadows, darkening, lie, 
 
 And the swampy flats are silvered 
 
 When the moon creeps up the sky. 
 G
 
 9^ CTfjc (fTonbtrsiDU at Constanttnc 
 
 Cruel woes that need avenging, 
 
 Wrongs so deep of hearth and home, 
 
 Fill the broad breasts of these Northmen 
 At the Citadel of Rome. 
 
 When across the Tuscan mountains, 
 
 Broke the morn in saffron hue. 
 He who wore the golden fillet 
 
 Saw their tent-heads in the dew : 
 Far as strained eye could wander, 
 
 O'er the plain and down the vale, 
 Horde on horde he marked them swarming, 
 
 And his lip and cheek grew pale. 
 Never from the days of Remus, 
 
 Never since these walls were planned. 
 Had such savage tribes of Northmen 
 
 Thus o'enaui this flivoured land.
 
 E\)c (Coiifarrsion of (Constantinc 99 
 
 Who can help ? for help is lacking ; 
 
 " Rome is conquered," cowards prate ; 
 Weak and worn the trembling cohorts 
 
 Cower within the northern gate. 
 
 Yet the purple-robed ruler, 
 
 When his present strait was sore, 
 Gathered up the threads of Memory : 
 
 For a vision strange of yore 
 Seemed to come, when one star trembled 
 
 O'er the Tiber's yellow wave, 
 One in snowy robe and girdle. 
 
 Guide Divine to seek and save. 
 Yea, the Love and Light of Christians, 
 
 When that star began to pale. 
 Stood in majesty before him, 
 
 With a word that could not fail.
 
 loo (Tijc CConbcrsion of Constantinc 
 
 "Pray, in faith, that light may ghmmer, 
 Ask that strength, too, may descend, 
 
 So the Christian's Lord and Saviour 
 Shall become to thee a friend." 
 
 Rose the sun in giant splendour, 
 
 Cloudless glared the diamond sky. 
 Morning dews no longer silvered 
 
 All the levels far and nigh : 
 Golden showers of light, now lustrous. 
 
 Tinted flowers upon the sod, 
 When a fervent prayer ascended 
 
 To the great white throne of God. 
 And at once that prayer was answered, 
 
 Doubts for ever cleared away, 
 Night of error, hour of darkness, 
 
 Fled before the Star of Day.
 
 STfje Conbcrston of Gonstantinc loi 
 
 Though the Sign of man's Redemption 
 Makes the eyes that see it dim, 
 
 " In this Sign alone thou conquerest; 
 Thou slialt triumph, too, in Him." 
 
 And the Word that never faileth 
 
 Failed not, as the Word had said, 
 For His sign was o'er the legions, 
 
 And their enemies lay dead. 
 As the mist before the sunlight, 
 
 In some lone and shady dell, 
 As the leaves in sad November, 
 
 So the Northmen fled or fell. 
 When the banner was uplifted. 
 
 Then came strife and wild dismay. 
 And the tramp of routed legions 
 
 Died not with the close of day.
 
 102 C{)c CTonfacrsion of Constantine 
 
 Broken ranks of foes, fear-stricken, 
 
 When the evening shades grew long, 
 
 While around the Cross triumphant 
 Rose the Christian soldiers' song. 
 
 Victory o'er the powers of darkness, 
 
 Conquest of the empire old, 
 Past the cruel age of iron, 
 
 Come the heavenly age of gold : 
 Empires fade, and wane the kingdoms. 
 
 Systems rise, and wax, and fall ; 
 But the Cross of Christ still triumphs, 
 
 And our God is Lord of all.
 
 Slcrlnln fall the snolu-flahcs 
 
 s 
 
 LOWr.Y fall the snow-flakes, 
 
 Clothing Earth in white, 
 Sweetly bells are chiming. 
 
 On this Christmas night. 
 Dark the earth aforetime, 
 
 ^\'hite on Christmas morn ; 
 Christ the curse reversing, 
 
 Mary's Son is born. 
 
 Slowly fall the snow-flakes. 
 Virgin- white the sod ; 
 In the chill descending. 
 
 Like the grace of God.
 
 I04 Sloicilo fall tfjc sno&Jsflafecs 
 
 Wild the varied chimings, 
 One tale only tell ; — 
 
 Lies in Bethlehem's manger 
 Great Emmanuel. 
 
 Slowly fall the snow-flakes, 
 
 Hang the holly high, 
 Bright its berries greeting 
 
 God incarnate nigh ; 
 Dark the earth no longer, 
 
 Barren nevermore, 
 Grace-flowers spring to blossom 
 
 On the Eternal shore.
 
 ^hc Author of **uhc Clmotiau Tlcar" 
 
 I 
 
 July 14, 1833 
 
 " If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare 
 • himself for the battle ? " 
 
 THE night was black, and but few stars were 
 bright, 
 The chill of death hung o'er a rocky steep ; 
 Around our citadel men slept their sleep, 
 While the foe gathered for a deadly fight. 
 Then rose a clear calm voice, sweet as of yore ; 
 Sounded a trumpet for the sleeping hosts,
 
 io6 STfjc aitttfjov of " Cijr Cljvistian gear" 
 
 Who, rising, staggered to their proper posts, 
 And grasped their arms, with watchword as before. 
 Behind the city's towers, when morning broke, 
 The torn flag floated in its silver glare, 
 The old cross gleaming in the morning air 
 Of future triumph to our soldiers spoke ; 
 Sword, breast-plate, helmet, each to other given. 
 Were blessed by Michael through the bars of 
 Heaven. 
 
 II 
 
 March 29, 1866 
 
 " Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord : and let perpetual light 
 shine upon him." 
 
 A change unken'd has overspread this land, 
 A Breath Divine has breathed new life again. 
 The whitened bones, upon a desolate plain
 
 't\)C Siutljor of "Cf)t Cfjristtan gear" 107 
 
 Re-clothed once more, show forth God's mighty 
 
 Hand. 
 Slowly the work of restoration grows ; 
 Strangely the wills of men He moulds anew ; 
 Nourishing rain, keen winds, autumnal dew. 
 Stern Winter's frost or Autumn's golden glows 
 Succeed — to bring forth Earth's all beauteous flowers. 
 And he is called home, when the Spring is here, 
 When Holy Grayle is feasted, and so dear 
 The Cross' deepening Way — when Grace in showers 
 Descends. • All peace divine be his for aye, 
 Waiting the niDontide of a perfect Day !
 
 Chvistc Sanctorum haxxB ;^n9cloriim 
 
 FROM THE LATIN 
 
 OF Holy Angels, Christ, Thou art the glory ; 
 Saviour, Redeemer of the human race ; 
 Give us with them to know the heavenly story,^ — 
 With Thee a place. 
 
 Angel of Peace, may Michael aye defend us, 
 
 Bringing sweetpeace divine for home and hearth ; 
 Dispelling fearful war, in mercy send us 
 A peaceful path. 
 
 Angel of Strength, let Gabriel hither speeding, 
 Far from our courts the old foe drive away ;
 
 ^ ffifjristc Sanctorum irrus Sngclorum 109 
 
 While, as of yore, Thy suppliants' voices heading, 
 Grant, when we pray. 
 
 Angel of Health, may Raphael stand beside us, 
 
 To heal our sick and faint who weary roam ; 
 When ways are devious, blessed Angel, guide us 
 Safe to our home. 
 
 Mother of God, Queen of the peaceful legions 
 
 Who hymn the light and lo\e of Christ their 
 King ; 
 Get us such help that we, in these chill regions. 
 That song may sing. 
 
 Saints, angels, men, combine that this be granted, 
 
 Father and Son and Holy Ghost adore, 
 Whose praises, by angelic hosts be chanted 
 For evermore. Amen.
 
 ^hc Morb toits tiiitbc Jlcsh 
 
 DARKNESS upon the highways of the world, 
 Fell darkly, as long years grew old and 
 died. 
 Watching the glimmer over sandy flats, 
 Its white line broken by the jagged rocks, 
 To fade and darken under starless skies, 
 INIan, with hopes stiicken, raised his palms in prayer, 
 Cried for the Day-spring, and for God the Light, 
 Feeling his bitter loneliness and woe. 
 
 II 
 He saw the frail form of his child of love, 
 Where darkness spread, grow frailer and more frail ;
 
 €])t fflTorlJ bas inatic JFlcsf) m 
 
 • 
 Give place to grey he marked the glow of health, 
 The soft eye lose its sparkling light of life, 
 And Death impress his signet of decay — 
 The curse of " earth to earth " all potent still, 
 His grasp so firm and true. With outstretched 
 
 hands 
 Man cried to God the High for succour, love. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Years slow or swift passed on. Yet overhead 
 Deep darkness brooded. Man had cast out God, 
 And the Great God withdrew from all His Own, 
 And left man to himself— how deep this curse ! 
 Left him to wander where the sands were rude ; 
 The streams oft dry, and dews of night so dark ; 
 To stumble in a strange and desert land, 
 And only dream of breaking-day and peace.
 
 ira Eljt aSIovtJ iuas maHc JFIrslj 
 
 IV 
 
 Some preached a time when, over treeless flats 
 The white Hne (broken by the jagged rocks), 
 All fringed with silver, should grow golden-broad, 
 And flood the wilderness with crimson rays, — 
 A time when God the Maker, man the made, 
 Should be for ever linked in love ; and when 
 Bright rings of angels, in His home of homes, 
 Sliould haste to guide lost Avanderers on their way. 
 
 Kings had desired to see that day of joy. 
 But only days of woe came to their lot : 
 Kings in their slumber, least unquiet here, 
 Dreamt of a garden, where four rivers flowed.
 
 STfjc ajmorB iuas maJc JFlcslj 113 
 
 And God had once Him walked : whereof old the 
 
 • foe, 
 In form of beauty, and by lie on lie 
 Poisoned a race. Near where a pledge was given — 
 "The woman's Seed shall bruise the serpent's head." 
 
 VI 
 
 Years slow or swift passed on. From nigh God's 
 
 throne, 
 One of the four in might, witli snowy alb 
 And vest of ministrant in heavenly choirs, 
 Came to a daughter of our fallen race, 
 Predestined in the counsels of our King 
 To be the Mother-maid immaculate, 
 (Grace an immunity, by grace alone,) 
 
 And said, " The Lord is with thee, Mary, hail ! " 
 
 H
 
 114 2:i)c IWlax'a bas mate jnrsfj 
 
 VII 
 
 From midnight in the Spring, when lily-flowers 
 Gave out their fragrance to the watching stars, 
 To midnight when the Winter snows lay deep. 
 But few short months. And then the Spring-time 
 
 rose. 
 Down the steep stairs of Heaven white angels came 
 With songs of praise and joy for desolate hearts, 
 " Peace on the earth : to men of peace good-will, 
 And glory, glory to our God on high." 
 
 VIII 
 
 O'er hills and valleys where the snow lay thick 
 Came shepherds, who had watched their flocks by 
 night,
 
 Eljc 'moxti iuas maUc jFlcsfj 115 
 
 To where the rosy Child of Bethlehem lay ; 
 To where His Mother Mary held Him forth 
 For lowliest adoration : and to where 
 The ox and ass with silent gaze of awe 
 Knew Him, the Son of God and Son of Man, 
 Without Whom nought was made that has been 
 made. 
 
 IX 
 
 Darkness still o'er the highway's of the world, 
 Dark years aye falling and dark deeds still done, 
 A wilderness to traverse, and the way 
 Still long, home distant, failing friends and loss. 
 Yet now a light— the Light of Light— below. 
 O Lord of life, tnie Man, have mercy, Christ, 
 Behind we would leave this darkness, tread a path 
 Which leads us to our home of light and peace.
 
 ii6 Z])C W.tsx'a ioas matir Jlcsfj 
 
 X 
 
 So, as the night comes round when Christ was born, 
 How fresh and new His graces for us each ! 
 When all is still as death o'er wold and weald, 
 The cattle kneel in awe of Mary's Son, 
 And tinctured pane of thousand village choirs 
 Shoots out its bright gleams o'er the sparkling snow : 
 While Mary's sons, those consecrate to bless. 
 As Mary did, show forth the Lord of Life 
 Amid the starry lights, with joyous song, 
 For men and angels lowlily to adore.
 
 StningcrG aiili jJilLjrimo 
 
 H 
 
 OW dull the night and weary, 
 
 The path so strange and long, 
 
 No guide to show the trackway — 
 No sound of sigh nor song. 
 
 The distant, purple mountains 
 Looked nearer than they are. 
 
 Ere twilight's shadows folded them 
 And hid the Evening Star. 
 
 And now yon streamlet's ripple, 
 The sough of distant vale. 
 
 The solemn plaint of night-bird. 
 The heart's unwritten tale,
 
 ii'S Strangers anti '^ilQtims 
 
 All tell the same old stor)^, 
 
 No peace for man within ; 
 
 Without, but woe augmenting, 
 For Sorrow trippeth Sin. 
 
 O rest receding ever, 
 
 O Night that grows not old, 
 Only when morning breaketh 
 
 Across a peaceful fold, 
 Shall lost friends be united, 
 
 Their tears all wiped away — 
 No loss nor separation 
 
 In Christ's unclouded day. 
 
 Songs shall ring out and deepen,- 
 I seem to hear them rise —
 
 5'trangrvs null ^Jilgrims 119 
 
 From rings of white-stoled angels, 
 
 Where the Lamb worshipped hes. 
 
 Heaven's joys are joys we know not, 
 Such visions bright all new, 
 
 Life's mysteries unravelled. 
 
 And Earth's veil pierced through. 
 
 God speed the day eternal, 
 
 Bestow its rest secure ; 
 Man longs for peace supernal 
 
 Where pleasures all endure : 
 O for the Face of Jesus, 
 
 And for His Mother's love ;- 
 Of rest a full fruition 
 
 In that true home above.
 
 c 
 
 TIcui §anctc Spiritus 
 
 FROM THE LATIN 
 
 0]\IE, Source of Light and Spirit of Love, 
 From Heaven's bright sapphire throne 
 
 above 
 Let undimmed radiance dart ; 
 Come, Thou Father of the poor, 
 Rich benedictions that endure 
 Diffuse through every heart. 
 
 For Thou'rt of all consolers best, 
 Cheering oft the troubled breast, 
 So let us know Thy Peace ;
 
 Ucnt Santtc Spiritus 121 
 
 . Rest give us for our toiling feet, 
 Glad coolness in the burning heat, — 
 Bid our keen anguish cease. 
 
 O true, undying, glorious Light, 
 The faithful with Thy Spirit bright 
 
 Replenish Thou and fill ; 
 Without Thy radiance divine 
 Nought in the heart of man can shine, 
 
 And good becometh ill. 
 
 Bind up each wound, our powers renew, 
 Shed o'er us Thy refreshing dew, 
 
 And wash our sins away ; 
 Bend Thou the proud and carnal will. 
 Melt Thou the frozen, warm the chill, 
 
 And guide those going astray.
 
 122 "Etni 5aiutc Spivitus 
 
 On all who love Thee and adore 
 In humble trust for evermore, 
 
 Thy sevenfold gifts shower down ; 
 Give consolation at the last, 
 Eternal life when death is past, 
 
 And then — a fadeless crown.
 
 THE MARTYRS OF VIENNE 
 AND LYONS 
 
 A PRIZE POEM, RECITED IN THE THEATRE, 
 OXFORD, JUNE 28, 1 85 4
 
 ^lic ^Bartnrs of Diciinc anb 
 l^ijons 
 
 " Martyrum vclut aquiloe juventus renovabitur ; florebunt 
 sicut lilium in civitate Domini." 
 
 QUIVERING his golden shafts, the Sun 
 reposed 
 On clouds of purple. Slowly from the East, 
 Mantled in sable garb, — upon her brow 
 A silver crescent cauglit the sun's last gleam, — 
 Evening came up ; while stars and planets bright, 
 Like scattered jasmine flowers upon a stream. 
 Were clustering in the dark blue vault of Heaven.
 
 126 {Tfjc fEarturs of Uicnnc anti Hgons 
 
 Below, the Rhone went flashing on his way, 
 Through tall banks, perfumed with the breath of 
 
 flowers; 
 While dews of Evening hung a lustrous veil 
 O'er sun-tipt hills, like radiant gleams of light 
 That shed their halo round a sainted face. 
 
 And onwards still wound tortuous silver veins 
 Tlirough rich green valleys, resonant at Morn 
 With notes of praise from birds of brightest hue 
 That quivered in the sunshine, as they hung 
 Beneath a sky, — one molten mass of gold ! 
 Tlirough valleys gay, at Noontide musical 
 With happy song from light and joyous hearts 
 That willing toiled in vineyards, rich with fruit, 
 Bright as the gardens of Hesperides. 
 Through valleys lone, when Evening's silent step 
 Fell on the earth ; and now the nightingale
 
 2rf)c fHarturs of rirnnr anb Egons 127 
 
 Sang out a lilaint of clear and pensive tone, 
 Which, save the ripple of the swelling wave, 
 And the soft chiming of the vesper-bell, 
 Together blent in chords of harmony, 
 Was all the sound that met the listening ear. 
 
 But now 'twas Night, — calm, solemn, silent 
 
 Night ; 
 The moon, unearthly pale, went up the sky 
 Like a soul disentliralled from earth's embrace 
 Returning to its God. An awful calm 
 Was o'er the scene. Chaliced 'mid hoary hills, 
 A lake of blue, girded with silver line, 
 Mirrored the moon upon its tranquil breast. 
 With stars attendant, — angel-choristers 
 Around Heaven's great white Throne. Her softened 
 
 ray
 
 128 Z\}t fHnvturs of Utcnnc anU Euons 
 
 Made every tower and spire of fair Yienne 
 Appear a frosted ornament of light, — 
 A beauteous city of another world ! 
 
 And here, amid this Paradisal scene, 
 Methought a shmiber stole my senses o'er, 
 And I fell tranced in ecstacy. The breeze, 
 Softer than low lute stealing o'er a lake, 
 Made music not of earth. 
 
 One diamond star, 
 Brio-hter and brighter in Heaven's azure dome. 
 Appeared a jewel on an angel's brow, 
 Whose gold-fringed pinions, dyed Avith rainbow 
 
 hues, 
 Cleaving the soft breeze of the midnight hour. 
 Were folded near. Divinelv fair his face,  
 
 Cfjr fHartyrs of Utcnuc antr Egons 129 
 
 Such as a poet's dream alone can know, 
 
 Or an old painter's pencil could depict, — 
 
 And flashed with beams of brilliance from above. 
 
 By some mysterious influence I passed, 
 
 With rushing tumult in my fiery brain, 
 
 Swiftly througli intermediate range of space. 
 
 And stood o'ershadowed by the olden town. 
 
 In calm repose it lay. The streets seemed broad : 
 
 One side was moonlit and the other black, 
 
 And no voice broke the awful silence round. 
 
 Heaven's guardian visitant, with noiseless step, 
 
 Led me through ways where towering spires, 
 
 cross-crowned. 
 
 Shot up, like crocus-leaves through crystal snow ; 
 
 While clearest tones of harmony di\-ine. 
 
 Soft as the murmurs of the evening breeze 
 
 Through some sweet harp, fell on my raptured ear : 
 
 1
 
 130 Cfjr fHartgrs of Uicnnc anti ILgons 
 
 " Peace to the souls of all who sleep in Christ, 
 
 Whether o'ershadowed by the churchyard tower, 
 
 Or by the ocean's ever-changing waves ; 
 
 And peace to those who, when the Church's step, 
 
 Pacing unwearied down the track of Time, 
 
 Had traversed scarce two little centuries, 
 
 Laid down their lives with Stephen and with 
 
 James, 
 As living witnesses in God's behalf 
 Seest thou yon spire, with moonbeams silvered 
 
 o'er, 
 Piercing the azure sky ? Below, rejDose 
 The ashes of the martyr Attala ; 
 Above whose tomb one never-ceasing song, 
 How he became a witness to the faith, 
 Exultant echoes through the solemn aisles !"
 
 Cf)c fHartgrs of Vicnuc ani ILgons 131 
 
 And now mctlioiight he ceased, and on we passed 
 By Pilate's tomb, — he wlio had doomed to death 
 The Lord of Heaven \\'ho hung the stars in space, 
 And bade them circHng whirl till Time should end : 
 By Pilate's tomb, — whose soul, for ever gnawed, 
 Prometheus-like, by Memory's poisoned fangs, 
 I saw enchained within the bars of Hell. 
 At which a thrill, as lightning, through me 
 
 passed, — 
 Dim was my sight, my senses petrified, 
 And my'parched tongue refused its offices, — 
 The mind alone could frame an orison. 
 The angel, like a mortal, seemed to sigh, 
 And fell a tear transparent. 
 
 Onwards then 
 To where a jagged wall, moss-grown and black.
 
 132 Z\)e fHartgvs of Vicnnc aui Egons 
 
 Rose darkling in the cold moon's snowy beams. 
 And here a vision of the infant Church 
 Slowly unfolds before my tranced sight, 
 Life not more tangible. 
 
 Tier upon tier, 
 Within a spacious amphitheatre 
 Uprising slantly to the sky above, 
 Ten thousand forms gathered within its walls, 
 With murmurs hoarse, like winds in leafless woods. 
 Borne round from lip to lip, rose to the sky : — 
 " Long live Aurelius, lord of lords, and king !" 
 Then, like the calm which, at the Saviour's word, 
 Levelled the billows of Gennesareth, 
 A sudden silence overspread the scene, 
 As tones of lute and cithara arose ;
 
 Cfjc fHartgrs of Vicnnc anij ILuons 133 
 
 While ev,ery eye, with strained and eager gaze, 
 Fell on a portal. 
 
 Slowly through its doors 
 A sad procession wound across the sand ; 
 There was the aged sire, with hoary beard, 
 Grown old as messenger of God the Word, 
 To lands where Darkness spread her shadowy 
 
 wing, 
 And Sin, with easy rule, was king supreme : 
 There, too, the virgin fair, whose tearful eye 
 Glanced, quick as thought, around the circling 
 
 rings, 
 And fell in fear : and he who ministered 
 At God's Own altar, when the faithful met 
 For Prayer, and Hjinn, and Eucharistic rite.
 
 134 2rfjc fHartgrs of 'Firnnc ani Egons 
 
 Was gazing dauntless on the eager crowd, 
 While faltering words to Jesus moved his lips. 
 And clasping to his heart the Saviour's sign, 
 Lowly he bowed, making God's will his own. 
 
 Greetings tumultuous, bounding upwards, rose. 
 Praises to gods, and curses doubly deep 
 On all the servants of the Nazarene. 
 Still, here and there, a woman's head would turn, 
 And taper fingers brush away a tear ; 
 Or in youth's soul, passion and sympath}^ 
 Beget desire, and feelings kin to love 
 Excite to save the virgin from her doom 
 And claim her as his own. 
 
 But there was none- 
 Save He who watches o'er the meanest slave
 
 ^\)t fHavtgrs of Viciinc auli iLgons 135 
 
 As o'er the mightiest monarch — to look down, 
 And soothe His servants in that fearful hour. 
 
 The cruel rack, the slow-devouring flame, 
 The brazen plates, glowing with fiery heat. 
 Severed the tie that knit the flesh and soul ; 
 AVhile angels, hovering o'er that awful scene, . 
 Sang lauds triumphant, as each martyred form, 
 One after another, each inspiring each, 
 With Death's dark imprint fell upon the sands. 
 
 One lingered still. The savage rack in vain 
 Had almost torn Blandina limb from limb ; 
 The circling fire in vain had wreathed her form ; 
 Heroic still, and fortified from Heaven, 
 Her tongue refused her Saviour to denv.
 
 136 ^fjc fJlartgrs of Virniu anti Euons 
 
 At \\hich, malicious murmurs, rising round, 
 
 Deepened to frantic shouts to Jupiter, 
 
 To liurl annihilating lightning-darts 
 
 On stubborn Christians, and erase their name 
 
 From Memory's tablet, as the boisterous sea 
 
 Washes a sand- wreath from its golden shore. 
 
 Quivering, she stood erect, seeming to pray 
 That Death's dark shade might overshadow her ; 
 And seraphs waft her weary soul to God. 
 Then angel-forms, leaving their courts on high. 
 Came down at His behest to strengthen her. 
 And on their rainbow-pinions bear her soul ; 
 For life, like tide-waves, now slow ebbed away, 
 And her glazed eyes must soon be closed in death. 
 
 She stood, half-leaning, by a fire-charred stake ;
 
 Cfjc fHnrtgrs of Titnnt anH ILgons 137 
 
 Heavenward her deep-blue eye. The soldier-band 
 Fled the arena, and their star-tipt spears 
 Were clustering round another low dark door : 
 A silence such as mortals seldom know 
 Was o\'er all. The shouts had died away, 
 And each could only hear his beating heart. 
 
 With demon-glaring eye, and ruffled mane. 
 Three tawny lions, bounding o'er the sands. 
 With silent step, and ready fang displayed. 
 Half leap upon the Virgin's mangled form. 
 ^\'ith inward growl supprest, sudden as thought 
 They halt. Their fiery-liashing eyes grow dim, 
 And they stand motionless. 
 
 Quick as o'er face 
 Of some calm lake a windy ruffle sweeps,
 
 138 Cfjc fHartgrs of Utcnnc anU 3Lgons 
 
 So, on the features of those thousands round 
 Pale Fear his impress leaves. 
 
 The Son of God, 
 Guardian of those who owned not Babel's power. 
 Walked in the furnace, and its fury cooled : 
 And when His faithful captive seer was cast 
 By impious King to lions, shut their mouths 
 And stayed their hunger, that they harmed him not : 
 So now, at His command, an angel bright 
 Their power makes powerless ; and they crouch in 
 
 fear 
 Upon the sands, before that helpless form. 
 The ranks around — e'en as a sudden storm 
 Upon a summer's eve — hurl murmurs forth 
 Wild and discordant ; while the soldiers, mailed. 
 With cruel spear, dye her pale breast in blood.
 
 2rf)c fHartuvs of Firnnc anli ILgons 139 
 
 Then holy angels bear her soul to God. 
 All jubilant with praise, anthemnal sounds 
 Echo throughout the jasper courts above, 
 And, bounding Heaven's wall, swell like a wave, 
 Circling and circling to an emerald shore. 
 
 Then, as the panorama glided past, 
 Dark scenes of horror came. An aged priest 
 Endured fierce torments, such as man alone 
 Could ne'er devise, — dark schemes, brought forth 
 
 in hell. 
 And fondly nurtured in this world of sin. 
 There, pure as crystal waters, rippling forth 
 From some untrodden mountain's hoary steep, 
 A virgin bore acutest agony. 
 And her soul went to rest in Paradise.
 
 I40 K\}c fHartjjrs of Ftcnnc anti Egons 
 
 So to the end. But still methought the Church, 
 In power divine and majesty supreme, 
 AValked forth through lands, and nations heard Her 
 
 voice, 
 Owning Her sway. 
 
 Then, signed with Jesu's sign, 
 Ten thousand forms flocked to Her lowly ranks, — 
 Kings, nobles, poets, princes, senators. 
 Swelling Her triumph, as She walked erect 
 Across the desert of this sinful world; 
 And upward tuneful rose through starry space 
 Her songs of praise to God. The courts of Heaven 
 Swelled with the anthem, and the white-robed choirs, 
 Tuning their harps in unison, sang forth — 
 Back-echoing sweetly to the Church on earth — 
 Unceasing praises to the Crucified.
 
 tTfjr iBavtiirs of Uicnnc auti Egons 141 
 
 Onward, upon the margin of Time's stream, 
 
 Gazing, She saw the empires of tlie earth — 
 
 Dynasties old — fldl, like rock-fragments hurled 
 
 Into the mighty chaos of the jiast. 
 
 Firm as eternal mountains still She stood, 
 
 Gazing serenely o'er the troubled world. 
 
 Her footstep mo\ ed, while broader grew her ranks. 
 
 Even as a river widening to the sea. 
 
 Ivings bowed before Her, and Her altars bright 
 
 Shone with rich jewels, as the ocean- waves 
 
 Gleam with a thousand glistening gems at night ; 
 
 Her shrines was circled round with costly stones, 
 
 Sapphire and pearl, and violet amethyst. 
 
 Looms of the East, and cedars from the North, 
 
 Balm from the forests, incense from the groves. 
 
 And sweet flowers clustering on the breast of 
 
 Earth, 
 Adorned the temples of the Saviour's Bride.
 
 142 S;f)c JiHartgts of "Bitnnt anli Egons 
 
 Her silver voice, resounding o'er the waves, 
 Westward and southward, called the nations 
 
 home ; 
 And they, responding, owned Her Queen until 
 Climes that on Earth's far edge courted the sun. 
 Welcomed Her saving step, and echoing sent 
 Eternal alleluias up to God. 
 
 The spirit-armies of black-bannered Sin 
 Harassed Her borders as She passed along ; 
 And still the World, owing Her sway divine, 
 Would, here and there, grow weary of Her rule ; 
 And then the Martyrs won a branch of palm ; 
 The Virgins, lily-wreaths and crowns of gold ; 
 And the Confessors, Heaven's bright starry 
 thrones !
 
 Z\)t fflarturs of rirnnc anti ILgons 143 
 
 Then slumbering souls melhought, in weird 
 
 repose, 
 Within the flowery groves of Paradise, 
 Hearing the ripples of the Stream of Life, 
 And distant harpings round the eternal Throne, 
 Seeing bright gleams that flashed through golden 
 
 bars, 
 Outcried, in tones of sweetest agony, — 
 '" Lord, good and merciful, how long? how long?"
 
 iCoohiTi of Dci'&c bn the same Author 
 
 Fcap. %vo., 3.r. ()d. 
 
 THE KING'S HIGHWAY. 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 " (.'ontains some passages of considerable poetic power 
 
 Certainly a fine and carefully-written production. It is obscure, the 
 grammatical construction is by no means easy, and it abounds in long 
 elaborated sentences, whose meaning it requires some pains to unravel, 
 but none the less does it possess much beauty." — Ecclesiastic. 
 
 " There is a considerable amoimt of merit in this volume, which will 
 well repay a slow and careful perusal. It has something of almost 
 Robert Browning-like severity of tone, and something not altogether unlike 
 Robert Browning's peculiar way of putting strong thoughts into appro- 
 priate and almost fmitative verse Many of the minor poems 
 
 have much of Mr. Lee's usual felicity of versification, and are very mus- 
 ical and sweet." — Literary Churchman. 
 
 " Mr. Leo's rhythm is good and nmsical, whilst his tone of sentiment 
 1^ high, and for the most part such as we could cordially agree with. 
 . . . . 'The Fisherman's Song' is e-Vtremely good." — Church and 
 State Review. 
 
 "Throughout Mr. Lee's poems there is a manifest purity and earnest- 
 ness which bespeaks clearly the emotions of a highly cultivated mind, 
 influenced by a deep sense of reverence for revealed truth. . . . His 
 imagery is apt and pleasing, his ideas are generally e.xpressed in well- 
 chosen language ; while a naturally musical ear, which is so essential to 
 the poet, invests his verses with a peculiar charm." — Court Circular.
 
 " Mr. Lcc allows his poetry to be tinged everywhere with the spirit of 
 mediaevalism in religious things, and we presume he will feel complimented 
 by our saying so." — Clerical Journal. 
 
 "A volume, on the whole, of very pleasing and well-written verse." — 
 Aberdeen. Free Press. 
 
 "Quietly written, have a tone of sincerity about them, and are free 
 from that narrowness which is too often a striking defect in religi- 
 ously reflective poems." — Reader. 
 
 " A book of poems of no common character. The descriptions are 
 quite Prae-Raphaelite, while the tone of thought is high, and the e.vecu- 
 tion worthy of an 0.\ford man of popular manners and varied accom- 
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 of University College. 
 
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 Eighth Edition. i2mo. 4^. dd. 
 
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 — I. A General Account of the Ordinance. 2. The Baptismal 
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 sages of Holy Scripture, in connexion with the Ordinance. With 
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 Seventh Edition. Small 8vo. u. ()d. 
 
 lEontron, ©xfort, anU Cambridge
 
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 T/ic Life of Madame Louise de France, 
 
 Daughter of Louis XV., known in religion as the Reverend 
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 The Story of the Gospels : 
 
 A Narrative combined from a revised translation of the four 
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 By the Rev. William Pound, late Fellow of St. John's Col- 
 lege, Cambridge, Principal of Appuldurcombe School, Isle of 
 
 Wight. 
 
 2 Vols. 8vo. {In the Press.) 
 
 A complete Greek and English Lexicon 
 
 for the Poems of Homer, and the Homeridae ; illustrating the 
 domestic, religious, political, and military condition of the 
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 By G. Ch. Crusius. Translated from the German, with 
 con-ections and additions, by Henry Smith, Professor of 
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 formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 Third Edition, izmo. 9^. 
 
 A copious Phraseological English- 
 
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 Revised, Enlarged, and Improved by the late Thomas Ker- 
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 BY THE BISHOP OF OSSORY. 
 
 The Case of the Established Church in Ireland. By 
 
 James Thomas O'Brien, D.D., Bishop of Ossory, Ferns, and Leighliu. 
 Third Edition. With Appendix. 8vo. 2J. td. 
 
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 The DiscstablisJiment and Discndozvmcnt of the 
 
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 and Pnelector of Hereford Cathedral, and one of the Proctors for the Clergy 
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 Former Days not Better than these: a Sermon, 
 
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 Jjttcssrs. Bibington's iJlcto publications 
 
 CA-TENA CLASSICORUM, 
 
 A SERIES OF CLASSICAL AUTHORS, 
 
 EDITED BY MEMBERS OF li(JTH UNIVERSITIES UNDER 
 THE DIRECTION OF 
 
 THE REV. ARTHUR HOLMES, M.A. 
 
 FELLOW AND LECTURER OF CLARE COLLEGE, CAMliRlUGK, LECTURER AND LATE 
 FELLOW OF ST. JOH.s'S COLLEGE, 
 
 THE REV. CHARLES BIGG, M.A. 
 
 LATE SENIOR STUDENT AND TUTOR OF CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD, SECOND 
 CLASSICAL MASTER OF CHELTENHAM COLLEGE. 
 
 The following Parts have been already published:— 
 SOPHOCLIS TRAGOEUIAE, 
 Edited by R. C. Jkuh, M.A. Fellow and Assistant Tutor of Trinity 
 College, Cambridge. 
 [Part I. The Electra. 3s. 6</. Part II. The Ajax. 3s. 6J. 
 
 JUVENALIS SATIRAE, 
 Edited by G. A. Simcox, M.A. Fellow and Classical Lecturer of 
 Queen's College, Oxford. [Thirteen Satires. 3s. dd. 
 
 THUCYDIDIS HISTORIA, 
 Edited by Charles Bigg, M.A. late Senior Student and Tutor of 
 Christ Church, Oxford. Second Classical Master of Chelten- 
 ham College. 
 
 [Vol. I. Books I. and II. with Introductions. 6s. 
 
 DEMOSTHENIS ORATIONES PUBLICAE, 
 Edited by G. II. Heslop, M.A. late Fellow and Assistant Tutor 
 of Queen's College, Oxford. Head Master of St. Bees. 
 
 [Parts I. & 11. The Olynthiacs and the Philippics. 4f. (>d. 
 
 ARISTOPHANIS COMOEDIAE, 
 Edited by W. C. Green, M.A. late Fellow of King's College, 
 Cambridge. Classical Lecturer at Queens' College. 
 
 [Part I. The Achamians and the Knights. 4J-. 
 [Part II. The Clouds. 3s. 6J. 
 [Part III. The Wasps. 3s. dd. 
 
 ISOCR.A.TIS ORATIONES, 
 Edited by John Edwin Sandys, B.A. Fellow and Lecturer of 
 St. Jolm's College, and Lecturer at Jesus College, Cambridge. 
 [Part I. Ad Demonicum et Panegyricus. 4-^. dd. 
 A PERSII FLACCI SATIRARUM LIBER, 
 Edited by A. Pretor, M.A., of Trinity College, Cambridge, 
 Classical Lecturer of Trinity Hall. 3s. 6d. 
 
 Mention, ©iforB, atin (Camfaritise
 
 28 
 
 JWcssra, 5R(bington's iSfto publications 
 
 CA TEN A CLA SSICOR UM— Opinions of the Press. 
 
 ' Mr. /ebb's Sophocles. 
 
 " Of Mr. Jebb's scholarly edition of 
 the ' Electra ' of Sophocles we cannot 
 speak too highly. The whole Play 
 bears evidence of the taste, learning, 
 and fine scholarship of its able editor. 
 Illustrations drawn from the literature 
 of the Continent as well as of England, 
 and the researches of the highest clas- 
 sical authorities are embodied in the 
 notes, which are brief, clear, and 
 always to the point." — Loudon Re- 
 view, March i6, 1867. 
 
 "The editorship of the work before 
 lis is of a very high order, displaying 
 at once ripe scholarship, sound judg- 
 ment, and conscientious care. An ex- 
 cellent Introduction gives an account 
 of the various forms assumed in Greek 
 literature by the legend upon which 
 ' The Electra ' is founded, and institutes 
 a comparison between it and the 
 ' Choephorae ' of j^schyhis. The te.xt 
 is mainly that of Dindorf. In the notes, 
 which are admirable in every respect, 
 is to be found exactly what is wanted, 
 and yet they rather suggest and direct 
 further inquiry than supersede exertion 
 on the part of the student." — Athe- 
 7iieuvi. 
 
 " The Introduction proves that Mr. 
 Jebb is something more than a mere 
 scholar, — a man of real taste and 
 feeling. His criticism upon Schlegel's 
 remarks on the Electra are, we believe, 
 new, and certainly just. As we have 
 oftenhad occasion to say in this Review, 
 it is impossible to pass any reliable 
 criticism upon sohool-bcoks until they 
 have been tested by experience. The 
 notes, however, in this case appear to 
 be clear and sensible, and direct at- 
 tention to the points where attention is 
 most needed." — Westminster Revieiv. 
 
 "We have no hesitation in .saying 
 that in style and manner Mr. Jebb[s 
 notes are admirably suited for their 
 
 purpo.se. The explanations of gram- 
 matical points are singularly lucid, the 
 parallel passages generally well chosen, 
 the translations bright and graceful, 
 the analysis of arguments terse and 
 luminous. Mr. Jebb has clearly shown 
 that he possesses some of the qualities 
 most essential for a commentator. "^ — 
 Spectator 
 
 "The notes appear to us exactly 
 suited to assist boys of the Upper 
 Forms at Schools, and University 
 students ; they give .sufficient help 
 
 without over-doing e.xp!anations 
 
 His critical remarks show acute and 
 exact scholarship, and a very useful 
 addition to ordinary notes is the scheme 
 of metres in the choruses." — Guardian. 
 
 " If, as we are fain to believe, the 
 editors of the Catena Classicoriim 
 have got together such a pick of 
 scholars as have no need to play their 
 best card first, there is a bright promise 
 of success to their .series in the first 
 sample of it which has come to hand 
 — Mr. Jebb's ' Electra.' We have seen 
 it suggested that it is unsafe to pro- 
 nounce on the merits of a Greek Play 
 edited for educational purposes until it 
 has been tested in the hands of pupils 
 and tutors. But our examination of the 
 instalment of, we hope, a complete 
 ' Sophocles,' which Mr. Jebb has put 
 forth, has assured us that this is a 
 needless suspension of judgment, and 
 prompted us to commit the justifiable 
 rashness of pronouncing upon its con- 
 tents, and of asserting after due peru.sal 
 that it is calculated to be admirably 
 .serviceable to every class of scholars 
 and learners. And this assertion is 
 based upon the fact that it is a by no 
 means one-sided edition, and that it 
 looks as with the hundred eyes of 
 Argus, here, there, and every where, to 
 keep the reader from straying. In a 
 
 IContJon, ©ifort, tinU CTambritigt
 
 JWtssra. lUiUington's £lm publications 
 
 29 
 
 CATENA CLASSICORUM—Opiniojis of the Press. 
 
 concise and succinct style of English 
 annotation, forming the best substitute 
 for the time-honoured Latin notes which 
 had so much to do with makinij good 
 scholars in days of yore, Mr. Jebb 
 keeps a steady eye for all questions of 
 grammar, construction, scholarship, and 
 philology, and handles these as they 
 arise with a helpful and sufficient pre- 
 cision. In matters of grammar and 
 syntax his practice for the most part is 
 to refer his reader to the proper section 
 of Madvig's ' Manual of Greek Syn- 
 tax ;' nor does he ever waste space 
 and time in explaining a construction, 
 unless it be such an one as is not satis- 
 factorily dealt with in the grammars 
 of Madvig or Jclf r.xperience as a 
 pupil and a teacher has probably taught 
 him the value of the wholesome task 
 of hunting out a grammar reference 
 for oneself, instead of finding it, handy 
 for slurring over, amidst the hundred 
 and one pieces of information in a 
 voluminous foot-note. But whenever 
 there occurs arty peculiarity of con- 
 struction, which is hard to reconcile 
 
 to the a,ccepted usage, it is Mr. Jebb's 
 general practice to be ready 3' hand 
 with manful assistance."— C«'«/i""</<'- 
 rary Kevu'w. 
 
 " .Mr. Jebb has produced a work 
 which will be read with interest and 
 profit by the most advanced scholar, 
 as it contains, in a compact form, not 
 only a careful summary of the labours 
 of preceding editors, but also many 
 acute and ingenious original remarks. 
 We do not know whether the matter 
 or the manner of this excellent com- 
 mentary' is deser\'ing of the liigher 
 praise : the skill with which Mr. Jebb 
 has avoided, on the one hand, the 
 wearisome prolixity of the Germans, 
 and on the other the jejune brevity of 
 the Porsonian critics, or the versatility 
 which has enabled him in turn to 
 elucidate the plots, to explain the 
 verbal difficulties, and to illustrate the 
 idioms of his author. All this, by a 
 studious economy of space and a re- 
 markable precision of expression, he 
 has done for the 'Ajax' in a volume 
 of some 200 pages." — Ai/ieturunt. 
 
 Mr. Simcox's Jtivcnal. 
 
 " Of Mr. Simcox's ' luvenar we can 
 only speak in terms of the highest com- 
 mendation, as a simple, unpretending 
 work, admirably adapted to the wants 
 of the school-boy or of a college pass- 
 man. It is dear, concise, and scru- 
 pulously honest in shirking no real 
 difficulty. The pointed epigrammatic 
 hits of the satirist are every where well 
 brought out, and the notes really are 
 what they profess to be, explanatory' in 
 the best sense of the term." — London 
 Review. 
 
 "This is a link in the Catena Classi- 
 corum to which the attention of our 
 readers has been more than once di- 
 rected as a good Series of Cla.ssical 
 works for School and College purposes. 
 The Introduction is a very comprehen- 
 sive and able accoimt of Juvenal, his 
 
 satires, and the manuscripts." — Atlie- 
 niBufti . 
 
 "This is a very original and en- 
 joyable Edition of one of our favourite 
 classics." — Spectator. 
 
 " Every class of readers — those who 
 use Mr. Simcox as their sole inter- 
 preter, and those who supplement 
 larger editions by his concise matter 
 — will alike find interest and careful 
 research in his able Preface. This 
 indeed we should call the great featiu-e 
 of his book. The three facts which 
 sum up Juvenal's history so far as we 
 know it are soon despatched : but the 
 internal evidence both as to the dates 
 of his writing and publishing his Sa- 
 tires, and as to his character as a 
 WTiter, occupy some fifteen or twenty 
 pages, which will repay methodical 
 study." — Churchman. 
 
 lEonUon, ©ifortt, anU Cainbritigc
 
 3° 
 
 Jltcssrs. laibinston's £Le\o publications 
 
 CA TENA CLASSICORUM— Opinions of the Press. 
 
 Mr. Bigg's Thucydides. 
 
 "Mr. Bigg in his 'Thucydides' 
 prefixes an analysis to each book, and 
 an admirable introduction to the whole 
 work, containing full information as to 
 all that is known or related of Thucy- 
 dides, and the date at which he wrote, 
 foUowf^d by a very masterly critique on 
 some of his characteristics as a writer." 
 —A tlieiuptan. 
 
 " While disclaiming absolute ori- 
 ginality in his book, Mr. Bigg has so 
 thoroughly digested the works of so 
 many eminent predecessors in the same 
 field, and is evidently on terms of such 
 intimacy with his author as perforce 
 to inspire confidence. A well-pondered 
 and well-written introduction has formed 
 a part of each link in the ' Catena ' 
 hitherto published, and Mr. Bigg, in 
 addition to a general introduction, 
 has given us an essay on '.Some Cha- 
 racteristics of Thucydides,' which no 
 one can read without being impressed 
 
 with the learningand judgmentbrought 
 to bear on the subject." — Standard. 
 
 " We need hardly say that these 
 books are carefully edited ; the reputa- 
 tion of the editor is an assurance on 
 this point. If the rest of the history is 
 edited with equal care, it must become 
 the standard book for school and 
 college purposes." — yo/tti Bull. 
 
 " Mr. Bigg first di.scusses the facts 
 of the life of Thucydides, then passes 
 to an examination into the date at 
 which Thucydides wrote ; and in the 
 third section e.x-patiates on some cha- 
 racteristics of Thucydides. These 
 essays are remarkably well written, 
 are judicious in their opinions, and 
 are calculated to give the student much 
 insight into the work of Thucydides, 
 and its relation to his own times, and to 
 the works of subsequent historians." — 
 Museum. 
 
 Mr. Heslofs Demosthenes. 
 
 " The usual introduction has in this 
 case been dispensed with. The reader 
 is referred to the works of Grote and 
 Thirlwall for information on such 
 points of historj' as arise out of the.se 
 famous orations, and on points of 
 critical scholarship to ' Madvig's 
 Grammar,' where that is available, 
 while copious acknowledgments are 
 made to those commentators on whose 
 works Mr. Heslop has based his own. 
 IMr. Heslop's editions are, however, 
 no mere compilations. That the points 
 required in an oratorical style differ 
 materially from those in an historical 
 style, will scarcely be questioned, and 
 accordingly we find that Mr. Heslop 
 has given special care to those cha- 
 racteristics of style as well as of lan- 
 guage, which constitute Demosthenes 
 the very first of classic orators." — 
 .Slaudard. 
 
 "We must call attention to New 
 Editions of various classics, in the 
 excellent ' Catena Classicorum ' series. 
 The reputationand high standing of the 
 editors are the best guarantees for the 
 accuracy and scholarship of the notes." 
 — lyestminsier Review. 
 
 " The notes are thoroughly good, so 
 far as they go. Mr. Heslop has care- 
 fully digested the best foreign com- 
 mentaries, and his notes are for the most 
 part judicious extracts from them." — 
 I\Iuseu)n, 
 
 "The annotations are scarcely less to 
 be commended for the e.xclusion of 
 superfluous matter than for the excel- 
 lence of what is supplied. Well-known 
 works are not quoted, but simply re- 
 ferred to, and information which ought 
 to have been previously acquired is 
 omitted. " — A thenaum. 
 
 IContfon, ©xfortf, an^r CTamliritKtc
 
 JWcssrs. Bibingtou's ilcfio ^ubltcntions 
 
 ^i 
 
 CATENA CLASSICORUAf— Opinions of the Press. 
 Mr. Green's Aristophanes. 
 
 "Mr. Green has discharged his part 
 of the work with uncommon skill and 
 ability. The notes show a thorough 
 study of the two Plays, an independent 
 judgment in the interpretation of the 
 poet, and a wealth of illustration, from 
 which the Editor draws whenever it is 
 necessary. " — Museum. 
 
 "Mr. Green'sadmirabic Introduction 
 to 'The Clouds' of the celebrated 
 comic poet deserves a careful perusal, 
 as it contains an accurate analysis and 
 many original comments on this re- 
 markable play. The text is prefaced 
 by a table of readings of Dindorf and 
 Meineke, which will be of great service 
 to students who wish to indulge in 
 verbal criticism. The notes are copious I — Atluriueuiii. 
 
 and lucid, and the volume will be found 
 useful for school and college purposes, 
 and admirably adapted for private 
 reading. " — Exatniner. 
 
 "Mr. Green furnishes an excellent 
 Introduction to 'The Clouds' of 
 Aristophanes, e.vplaining the circum- 
 .stances under which it was produced, 
 and ably discussing the probable object 
 of the author in writing it, which he 
 considers to have been to put down 
 the Sophists, a class whom Aristo- 
 phanes thought dangerous to the morals 
 of the community, and therefore ca- 
 ricatured in the person of .Socrates, — 
 not unnaturally, though irreverently, 
 choosing him as their representative. 
 
 Mr. Sandy s Isocrates. 
 
 " Isocrates has not received the 
 attention to which the simplicity of 
 his style and the purity of his .•Xttic 
 language entitle him as a means of 
 education. Now that we have so ad- 
 mirable an edition of two of his Works 
 best adapted for such a. purpose, there 
 will no longer be any excuse for this 
 neglect. For carefulness and thorough- 
 ness of editing, it will bear comparison 
 with the best, whether English or 
 foreign. Besides an ample supply of 
 exhaustive notes of rare excellence, 
 we find in it valuable remarks on the 
 style of Isocrates and the state of the 
 text, a table of various readings, a list 
 of editions, and a special introduction 
 to each piece. As in other editions of 
 this series, short summaries of the 
 argument are inserted in .suitable 
 places, and will be foimd of great 
 service to the student. The commen- 
 tary embraces explanations of difficult 
 passages, with instructive remarks on 
 grammatical usages, and the deriva- 
 tion and meanings of words illus- 
 trated by quotations and references." 
 — A tliemetiyii . 
 
 "This Work deserves the warmest 
 welcome for several reasons. In the 
 first place, it is an attempt to introduce 
 Isocrates into our schools, and this 
 attempt deserves encouragement. The 
 
 Ad DeiMoniattn is very ca.sy Greek. 
 It is good Greek. And it is reading of 
 a healthy nature for boys. The prac- 
 tical wisdom of the Greeks is in many 
 respecLs fitted to the capacities of boys; 
 and if books containing this wisdom are 
 read in schools, along with others of a 
 historical and poetical nature, they will 
 be felt to be far from dry. Then the 
 Editor has done every thing that an 
 editor should do. We have a series of 
 short introductory essays ; on the style 
 of Isocrates, on the text, on the Ad 
 Dfinonkum, and on the Panegyricus. 
 These are characterized by sound sen.se, 
 wide and thorough learning, and the 
 capability ofpresenting thoughts clearly 
 and welL" — Museum. 
 
 " By editing Isocrates Mr. Sandys 
 does good service to students and 
 teachers of Greek Prose. He places 
 in our hands in a convenient form an 
 author who will be found of great use 
 in public schools, where he has been 
 hitherto almost unknown. . . . Mr. 
 Sandys worthily sustains as a com- 
 mentator the name which he has 
 already won. The historical notes are 
 good, clear, and concise ; the gram- 
 matical notes scholar-like and practi- 
 cally useful. Many will be welcome 
 alike to master and pupil." — Cambridge 
 University Gazelle. 
 
 IContion, ©iforti, an» CTnmfirilrgc
 
 33 JWcssrs. IRibiftgton's ^«to publications 
 
 CATENA CLASSICORUM. 
 
 The following Parts are in course of preparation :— 
 
 PLATONIS PHAEDO, 
 Edited by Alfred Barry, D.D. late Fellow of Trinity College, 
 Cambridge ; Principal of King's College, London. 
 
 DEMOSTHENIS ORATIONES PUBLICAE, 
 
 Edited by G. H. Heslop, M.A. late Fellow and Assistant Tutor 
 of Queen's College, Oxford ; Head Master of St. Bees. 
 
 [Part III. De Falsa Legatione. 
 
 MARTIALIS EPIGRAMMATA, 
 Edited by George Butler, M.A. Principal of Liverpool College ; 
 late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. 
 
 DEMOSTHENIS ORATIONES PRIVATAE, 
 Edited by Arthur Holmes, M.A. Fellow and Lecturer of Clare 
 College, Cambridge. [Part I. De Corona. 
 
 HOMERI ILIAS, 
 Edited by S. H. Reynolds, M.A. Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose 
 College, Oxford. [Vol. I. Books I. to XII. 
 
 HORATI OPERA, 
 Edited by J. M. Marshall, M.A. Fellow and late Lecturer of 
 Brasenose College, Oxford ; one of the Masters in Clifton 
 College. 
 
 TERENTI COMOEDIAE, 
 Edited by T. L. Papillon, M. A. Fellow and Classical Lecturer of 
 Merton College, Oxford. 
 
 HERODOTI HISTORIA, 
 
 Edited by H. G. Woods, M.A. Fellow and Tutor of Trinity 
 College, Oxford. 
 
 TACIT! HISTORIAE, 
 Edited by W. H. Simcox, M.A. Fellow and Lecturer of Queen's 
 College, Oxford. 
 
 OVIDI TRISTIA, 
 Edited by Oscar Browning, M.A. Fellow of Iving's College, 
 Cambridge ; and Assistant Master at Eton College. 
 
 CICERONIS ORATIONES, 
 
 Edited by Charles Edward Graves, M.A. Classical Lecturer 
 and late Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge. 
 
 [Part I. Pro Ligario et Pro Rege Deiotaro. 
 
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