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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POETRY 
 
 FROM LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 C. M. K. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, AND CO, 
 
 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1856.
 
 K^P7 
 
 TO THE LADY NOEL BYRON, 
 
 THE BELOVED AND HONOURED 
 FRIEND OF HER FAMILY, 
 
 ®I)Ci3C IPoema 
 
 ARE, 
 
 BY PERMISSION, 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY C, M. K. 
 
 865169
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 I 
 
 INES . . . • 
 
 Stars of my foul, arife ! arife ! . . 
 
 The two Fountains 
 
 Queftion and Anfwer 
 
 The Lily of the Valley 
 
 The Star and the Lake 
 
 Song 
 
 Blue Eyes. Song 
 
 A Portrait 
 
 The Nun. Song 
 
 Dirge 
 
 Song 
 
 Lines 
 
 Living and Loving 
 
 The Hidden Rofe 
 
 " It is a Happy World" 21 
 
 The Flower and the Heart 26 
 
 Old Englifta Love-fong 27 
 
 To my Wife 28 
 
 Dream-land 29 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 17. 
 15 
 
 16 
 
 17 
 
 20
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 Song 31 
 
 " The Mind is a * Perpetuum Mobile' "... 3z 
 
 I faw a boat 34 
 
 Too Late 36 
 
 Song 39 
 
 " To-day (halt thou be with me in Paradife" . 4.0 
 
 To the Lark 4.1 
 
 Thoughts at Church 4.2 
 
 The Rofe. Song 45 
 
 She Wept 4.6 
 
 Lines 4.8 
 
 " This is the Laft Rofe" 50 
 
 The Home-Angel 52 
 
 Old Love-fong 54. 
 
 To Benhall 55 
 
 Stanzas 59 
 
 The Garden of Gethfemane 61 
 
 A Charafter 62 
 
 Song 64 
 
 " At leaft it is a White Flower" 65 
 
 Second Spring 67 
 
 On a Pifture 69 
 
 Song 70 
 
 Clouds in Summer 71 
 
 Old Warden Well 73 
 
 On the Death of an Infant 75 
 
 " Duke et decorum eft pro Patria mori ! " . . 76 
 
 Stanzas 81 
 
 Duty 83
 
 Contents. vii 
 
 Page 
 
 On fome Hothoufe Flowers 84 
 
 A real Incident 87 
 
 The Blind Mufician 89 
 
 Dreams 92 
 
 My Father's Houfe 93 
 
 Separation 97 
 
 Song of the Sirens 99 
 
 Lines loi 
 
 The Rofe 103 
 
 Fairy Song 105 
 
 Love in Summer 106 
 
 The Magician 108 
 
 Regrets 109 
 
 Fairy Song 1 1 1 
 
 To my Friend 113 
 
 The Captive's Hope 114 
 
 On the Anniverfary of the Death of the Rev. 
 
 Frederick. W. Robertfon 115
 
 LINES. 
 
 ILL in white— as the angels are, 
 With a bright calm face like an 
 
 evening ftar ; 
 And a voice as fw^eet as a diftant bell, 
 With its low deep thrill and its airy fwell ; 
 Full of the hopes and the dreams of youth, 
 In a w^orld that gives promife of love and truth ; 
 Be there never a (hadow on heart or brow- 
 To cloud the light that I fee there now ! 
 
 All in white— as the angels are, 
 To whom thy fpirit hath flown afar ; 
 With a calm pale face, on whofe lips a fmile 
 Lingers to comfort thy friends awhile. 
 The love of the world was not for thee, 
 But the Love that endures through Eternity. 
 Oh never a fliadow fhall cloud that brow, 
 For the light of Heav'n is upon it now ! 
 
 B
 
 vTARS of my foul, arife ! arife ! 
 Come in your beauty, luftrous eyes 
 Beam from your pale and arched 
 fky, 
 
 The brow ferene 'neath which ye lie ; 
 
 Whilft, like the clouds that deepen there. 
 
 Hang low the braids of dark brown hair. 
 
 The long fring'd lids, with downward fweep 
 
 Invite the downy wing of fleep ; 
 
 And envious, hide thofe orbs from fight, 
 
 Whofe fetting turns my day to night. 
 
 But fee ! they quiver, they unclofe. 
 
 And life intenfer in me grows : 
 
 Two ftars are all I care to fee, 
 
 And they are rif'n and (hine on me !
 
 THE TWO FOUNTAINS. 
 
 5ITHIN Life's Ihady foreft flow 
 Two Fountains, fide by fide ; 
 And all muft drink, or foon or late. 
 Of their tranfparent tide. 
 The well of Truth is clear and deep, 
 
 And mirrors back the fky ; 
 A rainbow arches Fancy's well, 
 Its tints her waters dye. 
 
 As hufk to kernel, each to each, 
 
 No art the link can fever ; 
 But Fancy colours Truth, and Truth 
 
 In Fancy lies, for ever. 
 One hidden fource thofe fountains feeds. 
 
 Though two their ftreams on earth ; 
 And each an earneft errand bears, 
 
 Of various form and worth.
 
 The two Fountains. 
 
 Happy the child who plenteous draughts 
 
 From Fancy's fountain fips ; 
 'Tis wealth of wifdom in his heart, 
 
 And honey to his lips. 
 The Arts, that lovely fifter-band. 
 
 Here feek their richeft treafure ; 
 They tafte awhile of Truth, but quafF 
 
 Of Fancy for their pleafure. 
 
 The poet pours Truth's lucid flood 
 
 Into his cryftal cup ; 
 But Fancy paints the fombre ftream, 
 
 And froths it fparkling up. 
 Love dreams away long funny days 
 
 Befide her haunted fprings ; 
 Friendfhip and Memory thither come 
 
 To bathe their flagging wings. 
 
 But as man haflens to his prime. 
 
 His love of Truth grows ftronger ; 
 He thirfts for deeper draughts, and leans 
 
 O'er Fancy's wave no longer. 
 Or if amidft the toil of Life 
 
 He there beguiles an hour. 
 He fighs to find its beauty gone — 
 
 The fpell hath lofl: its power.
 
 The two Fountains. 
 
 Fair woman fometimes graceful bends 
 
 Befide the well of Truth ; 
 But oft'ner dwells on Fancy's brink, 
 
 And there renews her youth. 
 Pale Science, like the Magi, bows 
 
 To Truth, as to a fhrine ; 
 For ever feeking in its gleams 
 
 Some key to things divine. 
 
 Age gazes on its dazzling face 
 
 With rapture ever new ; 
 Trufting the future fhall reveal 
 
 Its glories to his view : 
 Oft Truth will borrow Fancy's hues, 
 
 For human eye too bright ; 
 And wear the veil, as Mofes did. 
 
 To hide excefs of light. 
 
 We part from Fancy when we die. 
 
 Her glow to earth is given ; 
 Truth fprings befide the throne of God, 
 
 Her very home is Heaven. 
 Hail ! Fancy pure ; Hail ! purer Truth ; 
 
 Both free from fleck of fm ; 
 But Fancy ftays at Heaven's gate ; 
 
 Truth only enters in !
 
 QUESTION AND ANSWER. 
 
 F thou couldft choofe thy lot in life, 
 Say what thy choice wouldbe." — 
 And he who afks is poor and proud, 
 And rich and fair is fhe. 
 
 There burns a blufli from cheek to brow, 
 
 And yet her eye is clear j 
 She fpeaks in tones fo firm and low, 
 
 He both muft feel and hear. 
 
 " Oh never may my ftation be 
 
 Among the high and great ; 
 I know the emptinefs of wealth, 
 
 The wearinefs of ftate. 
 
 " Far rather let it be my fate 
 
 To toil and ftrive and rife 
 With one for whom my life may be 
 
 One glad felf-facrifice.
 
 Question and Answer. 
 
 " That fo, when fortune fmiles at laft, 
 
 And he has won a name, 
 I, who have wreftled at his fide, 
 
 May triumph in his fame." 
 
 With beating heart he murmurs forth, 
 " Ah ! fuch a lot is mine." 
 
 She anfwers with a tearful fmile, 
 " I know it. I am thine !"
 
 8 
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 WEET lily ! with the fragrant 
 bells 
 So frefhly pure, fofpotlefs white, 
 Drooping amid thy broad green 
 leaves. 
 
 Once only fraught with calm delight ; 
 Why doth a (hadow from the paft 
 A gloom upon thy beauty caft ? 
 
 There is a fpot of facred ground 
 Where quiet refts a noble head ; 
 
 Where feldom echoes ftir or found, 
 
 Save, when with flow and folemn tread, 
 
 A lonely mourner comes to weep, 
 
 Or fome frail form is laid to fleep. 
 
 'Twas in the flufh of joyous Spring 
 We ftood befide his narrow cell. 
 
 And both were pilgrims from afar. 
 
 And both had loved him long and well. 
 
 " Yet happier thus," we faid, " for he 
 
 Doth face to face his Father fee."
 
 The Lily of the Valley. 
 
 We filent pray'd a little fpace, 
 We took a lily drooping fair, 
 
 Embalm'd it with a lingering kifs, 
 And left it by the grating there. 
 
 Though it is dry and wither'd now, 
 
 'Tis dearer to my heart than thou. 
 
 And hence for me is ever writ 
 A tale of mourning on thy leaf; 
 
 And hence the mufic of thy bells 
 Hath for mine ear a tone of grief. 
 
 Ye flowers have many a fpring in ftore. 
 
 But fpring will bring hi?n back no more !
 
 10 
 
 THE STAR AND THE LAKE. 
 
 Y heart lay calm and ftill and deep, 
 As doth at eve a lake 
 On which no trembling moon- 
 beams play, 
 No whifpering ripples break. 
 To which no guardian eye is given. 
 Of all the glittering hofts of heaven. 
 
 But as at length from its high place 
 Gleams out one brilliant ftar. 
 
 And fheds upon the lucid flood 
 A radiance from afar ; 
 
 So on my lonely life did rife 
 
 Thy angel-face, thy tender eyes. 
 
 The ftar upon that happy lake 
 
 Shall fet and rife again 
 For ever and for evermore. 
 
 As feafons wax and wane. 
 But ne'er again for me fhall rife 
 That vifion with the heavenly eyes !
 
 II 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ORN ! whofe fhadows evermore 
 Fly before the fultry noon ; 
 Brief as joyous youth thy reign, 
 Dries thy pearly dew too foon. 
 Golden prime and trufting heart 
 Promife fair, and then depart. 
 
 Eve ! w^hofe fhadow^s evermore 
 Hafte to meet the gloom of night. 
 
 Like our age thou ftealeft on, 
 
 Slow^ly fades the world from fight. 
 
 Yet to Night the ftars are giv'n, 
 
 That our hopes may rife to Heav'n.
 
 12 
 
 BLUE EYES. 
 
 Song. 
 
 AY not blue eyes be ftars, my love ? 
 Ah ! fuch were thine to me, 
 Ere wayward fancy turn'd to love, 
 Or fortune left me free. 
 Shine on ! 
 
 I faw through them the foul within, 
 So gentle, truftful, true ; 
 
 It told of fummer to my heart. 
 And kept the promife too. 
 
 Shine on ! 
 
 Then whilft they beam undimm'd and clear, 
 Though dark my path may be, 
 
 Some light will cheer my fpirit yet, 
 There is a heav'n for me. 
 
 Shine on !
 
 13 
 
 A PORTRAIT. 
 
 LUE eyed, broad chefted, carelefsly 
 he flood 
 With ample brow, and h'ps that 
 frankly fmiled. 
 And clufter'd locks, gold-tinted in the light, 
 Swept back impatiently with fuch a hand 
 As loves the ftrong warm clafp to give and take : 
 So look'd he, in his manly Saxon prime. 
 Eager to dare, yet ready to endure ; 
 True to a friend, and generous to a foe ; 
 High foul'd as honour ; finely temper'd, fure. 
 As fteel that bends unbroken. Chivalrous 
 As ever knight to helplefs woman proved ; 
 Gentle and courteous, with the delicate mind 
 That fees in each, uncomely though fhe be. 
 The type of all that lovely is, and pure. 
 And yields her homage for his mother s fake j 
 Such was he, in his manly Saxon prime.
 
 H 
 
 THE NUN. 
 Song. 
 
 jROUND the altar hufh'd they ftand, 
 L^ The young, the gay, the great ; 
 ^1 A glad, yet not a houfehold band, 
 In breathlefs awe they wait. 
 Low falls the fnowy bridal veil, 
 
 White rofes wreathe her hair. 
 And beautiful is fhe, though pale, 
 Where is the Bridegroom, where ? 
 
 Not hers the rofy blufh, that tells 
 
 How love its pledge fulfils ; 
 No vifion of a happy home 
 
 Her fwelling bofom thrills. 
 To One whofe rule is not of earth, 
 
 Her youthful vows are given. 
 And rapt in deep devotion, ftands 
 
 The virgin Bride of Heaven !
 
 15 
 
 DIRGE. 
 
 ^f^^^^Y|ER brow is pale, but not with care ; 
 Her eyes are clof'd, but not for 
 fleep ; 
 The perfe(ft calm her features wear 
 For human reft is all too deep. 
 Down droop the braids of golden hair, 
 A fnow-white rofe is on her breaft ; 
 Fit emblem of her blamelefs youth, 
 
 The flower (he lov'd on earth the beft. 
 
 Tread foftly, though (he will not wake ; 
 
 Speak lowly, though fhe cannot hear ; 
 It may be that her gentle foul 
 
 Is leaning from its higher fphere. 
 As loth to wing its heavenward flight 
 
 Along the ftarry paven track ; 
 And that the fight of grief like ours 
 
 Might lure it to its fetters back !
 
 i6 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ,N the foreft green and leafy 
 
 Shadows blent with funbeams lie ; 
 In the boughs the birds are Tinging, 
 Lightly trips a maiden by. 
 In her mind gay fancies throng, 
 And fhe gives them voice in fong. 
 
 Tra la la. 
 
 In the foreft fere and leaflefs 
 
 Dim the lights and ftiadows lie ; 
 
 In the boughs no birds are fmging, 
 Trips no maiden lightly by. 
 
 Yet that fong I feem to hear. 
 Faintly echoing fad and clear. 
 Tra la la.
 
 17 
 
 LINES. 
 
 WOULD I were a ftar, 
 
 To draw to Heav'n thy dark and 
 
 earneft eye, 
 Biddino; thee think on Him, the 
 Ever-nigh, 
 Who watcheth from afar. 
 
 I would I were a bird, 
 Warbling a ftrain that made thee think of home. 
 Awakening all the hope of reft to come 
 
 Breathed by that word. 
 
 I would I were a flower. 
 To cheer, with varied hues and fweet perfume, 
 Thy times of fuffering, and thy darken'd room. 
 
 One little hour. 
 
 I would I were a book, 
 Full of high thought and holy, fo that thou. 
 When care or grief o'ercaft thy gentle brow. 
 
 Therein wouldft look. 
 c
 
 i8 
 
 Lines. 
 
 I would I were thy friend, 
 To fhow thee all the namelefs charm that lies 
 In fond affecStion's daily fympathies, 
 
 That have no end !
 
 19 
 
 LIVING AND LOVING. 
 
 [HAT do we live for, but to die ?" 
 Oh ! fadly, truly fpoken ; 
 Who cannot tell of fome fond tie 
 By death diflblved and broken ; 
 Some fweet voice hufh'd, fome light ftep fled, 
 Some loved one number 'd vv^ith the dead ? 
 
 " What do we love for, but to lofe ? " 
 Alas ! that human flowers, 
 
 Though nurtured by affeilion's dews. 
 Should perifh from our bowers ; 
 
 Leaving, by fweet perfume alone, 
 
 Some traces of the beauty gone. 
 
 *» 
 
 It muft be fo ; too much the heart 
 Pours forth, of love and truft ; 
 
 Forgetting, till thofe dreams depart. 
 Its idols are but duft. 
 
 Only in that bright world above, 
 
 May friend meet friend, to live and love.
 
 20 
 
 THE HIDDEN ROSE. 
 
 ,T was a glorious fummer's day, 
 The earth in fun-light fainting lay, 
 In all the heaven's blue expanfe. 
 No cloud relieved the dazzled 
 glance. 
 Slowly I fought the darken'd room. 
 Where reign'd a hufti'd and fultry gloom ; 
 When, as upon the couch I lay. 
 To bright wing'd fancies giving way, 
 Methought a perfume faint and rare, 
 As of young rofe-leaves, floated there, 
 Which yet fo fpiritual did feem, 
 I held it portion of my dream : 
 Nor would I break the od'rous fpell — 
 What if unreal ! it pleafed me well. 
 But when at length I turn'd to fee 
 The caufe of that fweet myftery. 
 Above my head, mofs-draperied, 
 A frefhly open'd rofe I fpied.
 
 The Hidden Rose. 
 
 21 
 
 From whofe red lips the fcented breath 
 Came faintly, as they pal'd in death. 
 Ay ! beats no lowly loving heart 
 That does not of its wealth impart. 
 Fragrance alone from fweetnefs flows j 
 Search — thou wilt ever find the rofe.
 
 22 
 
 " IT IS A HAPPY WORLD." 
 
 SAW her gathering flowers in 
 early Spring, 
 Herfelf as graceful and as fair a 
 thing ; 
 
 Cool was the breeze, and all ferene the fkies, 
 And gladder ftill her animated eyes. 
 
 " It is a happy world," (he faid, and fmiled. 
 
 I faw her in a youthful company. 
 Singing a ftrain of plaintive melody, 
 It changed to one more gay, and ftill that voice 
 Won lips to fmile defpite the liftener's choice. 
 It is a happy world," flie faid, and fmiled. 
 
 (C 
 
 I faw her hiving knowledge day by day, 
 From deepeft truths the doubt-mifts clear'd 
 
 away. 
 And while the upward path fhe humbly trod. 
 She loved a Father, and adored a God. 
 
 It is a happy world," fhe faid, and fmiled. 
 
 ((
 
 " It is a Happy World." 23 
 
 I faw her leanins; on the arm of one 
 To whom her heart had long been given alone ; 
 She plann'd an earneft felf-denying life, 
 Whilft he, approving, bleft his gentle wife. 
 " It is a happy world," (he faid, and fmiled. 
 
 I faw her widow'd, fhe fo late a bride ; 
 But faith and hope her grief had fan6tified : 
 " How fhone the eye, when fail'd the trembling 
 
 breath. 
 How bright the mem'ryof that bed of death ! — 
 It is a happy world," fhe faid, and fmiled. 
 
 I faw her, fading flowly day by day. 
 Firmly purfue each old familiar way. 
 " There muft be ftill fome work for me to do. 
 Or long ere this I fure had foUow'd too : 
 It is a happy world," fhe faid, and fmiled. 
 
 I faw her on her couch exhaufted lie. 
 The peace of God lay ftirin'd in that foft eye ; 
 No pain could cloud the light that (hone within, 
 " Chrift in His blood hath wafti'd away my fni ; 
 It was a happy world," fhe faid, and died. 
 
 I faw her rob'd in garments pure and white ; 
 Fair was the temple whence the foul took flight ;
 
 24 " It is a Happy World." 
 
 Death on her brow a folemn calm had preft, 
 Declaring, " She hath enter'd into reft." 
 " It was a happy world to her," I figh'd. 
 
 I law her grave, in death they are not parted. 
 She fleeps by him who left her lonely-hearted ; 
 Th' attefting crofs its facred fymbol rears, 
 And to thankfgivings turns the mourner's tears. 
 Sure 'tis a happy world, fmce it can be 
 The bud whofe flower is Immortality ! 
 
 A happy world ! God's works about us lie 
 Full of Himfelf, to every thoughtful eye ; 
 A happy world ! vocal with found and fong 
 To cheer our journey as we move along ; 
 A happy world ! for Science daily flings 
 Brighter revealings from her heavenly wings ; 
 A happy world ! fmce heart can anfwer heart, 
 And each to each high thoughts and aims impart ; 
 A happy world ! fmce faith's clear eye can fee 
 Love in the call that fets the fpirit free ; 
 A happy world ! God's work may here be done. 
 How fmall foe'er his fphere, by every one ; 
 A happy world ! for Chriftians, teachers ftill. 
 May yet in patient fuffering do His will ;
 
 " It is a Happy World." 
 
 25 
 
 A happy world ! the look fo ftill and calm 
 Worn by our loved in death, is fweeteft balm ; 
 A happy world ! And oh ! what is the grave ? 
 'Tis but the laft great vi6lory to the brave ; 
 The portal opening to the welcome gueft — 
 Eternal progrefs, and eternal reft !
 
 26 
 
 THE FLOWER AND THE HEART. 
 
 ^ SAW a lovely flower 
 
 Amid dark leaves within a vafe of 
 
 blue ; 
 And yet, though water'd with the 
 freflieft dew, 
 It feem'd to fade. 
 " What lack'ft thou yet, O flower ?" I cried : 
 " I have no fun," that lovely flower replied. 
 I placed it in the fun ; and lo ! its head 
 It lifted up, and fweetefl: perfume fhed. 
 
 I faw a gentle heart 
 Bleft with a home, with elegance furrounded, 
 And yet though fliow of happinefs abounded, 
 
 It feem'd to pine. 
 " What lack'ft thou yet, O heart ?" I cried ; 
 " I have no love," that gentle heart replied. 
 I gave it love ; and through long years of ftrife 
 It (hone my pole-ftar o'er the fea of life.
 
 27 
 
 OLD ENGLISH LOVE-SONG. 
 
 f-^AKE from the rofe her red, 
 Her blufhes, if you will ; 
 
 ^^1 So you but leave her fragrant heart, 
 A rofe I find her ftill. 
 Ay ! all the dearer fhe will be 
 In her difcrowned poverty. 
 
 Put off your high eftate. 
 
 Your beauty, if you will, 
 So you but keep your loving heart, 
 
 My queen I find you ftill. 
 Ay ! all the dearer in mine eyes 
 For lacking that which moft men prize. 
 
 %
 
 28 
 
 TO MY WIFE. 
 
 ^ING on, fweet voice ! thou doft 
 unlock 
 The gate to mem'ries of paft 
 years, 
 
 And gently loofe the fealed fount 
 Of rare but moft delicious tears. 
 
 How many a tranced lift'ner hangs 
 Rapt, on that frail melodious breath ! 
 
 Sure fuch the ftrain the parting foul 
 
 Hears, flutt'ring 'neath the wing of death, 
 
 From angel-lips. So feels the heart 
 
 That liftens through thefe tear-dew'd eyes, 
 
 Deeming fo exquifite a note 
 
 Learnt from thy fifters in the fkies. 
 
 Sing on ! may many a fummer pafs 
 Ere time untune that voice for thee ; 
 
 Setting the mufic of thy life 
 
 To forrow's plaintive minor key !
 
 29 
 
 DREAM-LAND. 
 
 *LEAR dawn'd the morning in that 
 
 fair Dream-land. 
 The green tranflucent water s gently 
 
 curv'd 
 
 Into a cavern cool and foam-befring'd, 
 That, fcarcely feen, in gladfome fparkles broke 
 Upon the flaftiing beach, o'erftrewn with fhells, 
 And wreath'd with many-colour'd fea-weed, fit 
 To bind the brow of Nymph, or Mermaid coy, 
 What time the loving fea unto the moon 
 Heaves upward, leaving bare the amber fands. 
 Upon the right, a lordly palace flood. 
 With portals open wide ; and colonnades 
 On jafper pillars borne, of ample length. 
 And twined with creepers : opening on the lawn 
 That ftretch'd its verdant terraces as far 
 As eye could reach, thro'tree-embower'd glades. 
 Along the ftiore, the palm afpiring, waved 
 Its fan-like crown high in the cloudlefs blue ; 
 And graceful undergrowths, with polifli'd leaves.
 
 30 
 
 Dream-Land. 
 
 Or feathery fpires. Sure not on Englifh ground 
 I ftood, but rather in the gorgeous Eaft, 
 Fit fpot for captive Princefs, houri-eyed, 
 Or fweet enchantment of Arabian Nights.
 
 31 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ■HEY told me thy face was fair as 
 thofe 
 That vifit us in our fleep ; 
 With a brow that was pure as an 
 angel's is, 
 And eyes too bright to weep. 
 I faw thee fmile, and my wayward heart 
 
 Could gaze on that fmile unmoved ; 
 But when for my forrows thy tears fell faft, 
 'Twas then I fondly loved. 
 
 Oh gladly we welcome the young and the gay, 
 
 When life feems one endlefs fpring ; 
 Ere the flowers are faded that wreathe our path. 
 
 Or the birds that we cherifh, take wing. 
 But years pafs on, and the heart returns 
 
 To its hopes and its fears again ; 
 And the tear and the fmile that anfwer our own 
 
 Are the links that are deareft then.
 
 32 
 
 " THE MIND IS A * PERPETUUM 
 MOBILE.'" 
 
 ESTLESS and wildasare thewaves 
 That foam upon the deep : 
 Unchain'd and free as are the winds 
 That viewlefs o'er it fweep : 
 Changeful and varied as the clouds 
 
 That float acrofs the (ky : 
 Unfetter'd as the airy birds 
 That wing their way on high. 
 
 Evening may find thofe billows hufh'd 
 
 Beneath the moon's pale ray ; 
 And catch the zephyr's whifper'd figh 
 
 As it wanders on its way. 
 The flars may glitter full and bright 
 
 On night's deep azure veft ; 
 And birds on dufky wing flit home 
 
 Each to their lonely neft. 
 
 But who, the throbbing breaft within, 
 May chain the fpirifs wings ?
 
 The Mind is a Perpetuum Mobile. 33 
 
 Who lull with fkilful hand to reft 
 
 The paflions' thrilling ftrings ? 
 Oh ! ye may fooner bind the wave, 
 
 And bid the cloud depart : 
 And woo the wild bird to a cage, 
 
 Than ftill the human heart !
 
 34 
 
 SAW a boat 
 
 Upon Life's river floating bravely 
 forth ; 
 
 Experience befide the helm did fit, 
 Whilft Patience with firm hands the oars did ply ; 
 And by the fteerer's fide I mark'd young Love 
 With ear attentive, and meek folded palms, 
 And eyes vi^ith fond devotion on her turn'd. 
 O happy Love ! that doft a warning take 
 From one who fearlefs as thyfelf, did once 
 Set fail with precious freight of faith and truft 
 To find them wrcck'd untimely! deep engulf 'd 
 By man's injuftice and a cruel world. 
 O bleft Experience ! whofe thorny path 
 Trod calmly as a martyr — hath a charm 
 To win the earneft fympathy of youth, 
 And nerve it for its trials ! Such a balm 
 Heaven doth appoint for thofe expanfive fouls 
 Which, having lived for others, find at laft 
 Some who to them do gladly minifter
 
 35 
 
 Out of youth's wealth, true fmiles and willing 
 
 hearts. 
 Long may Experience Love's pilot be ; 
 And Love befide her watch unto the end !
 
 36 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 ]^^\00 late ! too late ! thou art but 
 
 yToAv 
 
 ^«7> come 
 
 > 
 
 
 v51 
 
 To fee me yield this dying breath ; 
 My bridegroom waits behind the 
 door — 
 Has tarried long — his name is Death — 
 And I array'd in white fhall be, 
 But not in bridal robes for thee ; 
 And foon above me will be read 
 The folemn fervice for the dead ! 
 
 What, tears ? Ah no ! thofe luftrous eyes 
 Are dimm'd with precious dew in vain. 
 One glance from which, long months ago, 
 
 Had waked my heart to life again ! 
 But love is ftrong, and we are weak. 
 And the deep thoughts we may not fpeak 
 Wear the frail bread: that holds them faft, 
 And break the burden'd heart at laft !
 
 Too Late. 37 
 
 Come nearer, let me gaze once more 
 
 Into the face I loved too well ; 
 For change, though e'er (o {lightly wrought, 
 
 Affeilion's eye can quickly tell. 
 The high pale brow is lined with care — 
 A tenderer fmile the fweet lips wear : 
 Ah ! if I read their meaning true, 
 Then thou. Beloved ! haft fufFer'd too. 
 
 •5 
 
 Think kindly of me, when beneath 
 
 The green and quiet turf I'm laid. 
 I chofe the fpot — the weftern fun • 
 
 Shines on it. There I oft have pray'd, 
 Have knelt, and wept, and pray'd for thee, 
 For that which now may never be ; 
 And there, when weary months had paft, 
 I found the peace I fought, at laft. 
 
 Thank God ! His Spirit met me there, 
 
 And with my fpirit ftrove in love ; 
 Until my aching wav'ring heart 
 
 Learnt to expedl its reft above. 
 And now I long to reach my home 
 Where thou one day wilt furely come. 
 Till then, if guardian angels be, 
 How clofely I fhall follow thee !
 
 38 Too Late. 
 
 And oh ! if thou fhouldft hear them mock 
 
 The love that lingers unrequited ; 
 Then let my ftiadowy image rife, 
 
 In youth and hope too early blighted. 
 For love unfought is often given, 
 As lofty and as pure as heaven ; 
 And that at which men fcofF and frov^^n, 
 Obtains from God a martyr's crown. 
 
 The fun is fetting — how the red 
 
 Flames up into the gleaming fky ! 
 The painted curtain 'neath whofe folds 
 
 The awful other world doth lie ! 
 And thou wilt learn to know me there, 
 Where no difguife the foul need wear ; 
 Where they who love on earth the moft, 
 Shine brighteft in the faintly hoft.
 
 39 
 
 SONG. 
 
 rIND — that on perfumed pinion 
 Floateft o'er the fouthern fea, 
 Whifper to me, whifper truly, 
 If my love doth think of me. 
 Doth fhe think of me when morning 
 
 Wakes the wearied earth from fleep ; 
 Garlanding her brow with flowers, 
 Nature's feftival to keep ? 
 
 Wind that on, &c. 
 
 Doth fhe think of me at even. 
 
 When the filver moon fhines fair ; 
 
 And the gentle dew from heaven 
 Falls, like anfwer to a prayer ? 
 
 Wind that on, &c.
 
 40 
 
 " TO-DAY SHALT THOU BE WITH 
 
 ME IN PARADISE." 
 
 ^HOU art to-day with Him " in 
 Paradife !" 
 Far, far removed from ken of mortal 
 eyes, 
 But not from thought, to which 'tis freely given 
 To track thy fpirit to its native heaven. 
 We fmce that hour have look'd on pain and death, 
 Have toil'd and wept, and drawn laborious 
 
 breath ; 
 Have walk'd the round ofpleafure and of pain. 
 Parted to meet, and met to part again ; 
 The while in calm and unexprefs'd repofe 
 Of the deep blifs that only feraph knows, 
 Thy foul, no longer doubting, grief-opprefl. 
 Fathoms the myfteries here but dimly guefs'd. 
 Thou doft thy life as fome vex'd dream furvey 
 From out the glorious real of" to-day," 
 No fliadow from the Paft can cloud thy brow. 
 For all is one eternal mighty " Now !"
 
 41 
 
 TO THE LARK. 
 
 ■CHEERY Lark! nowfoaring high 
 Between me and blue depths of 
 fky, 
 
 Repeat again 
 That blithefome ftrain, 
 That it may haunt me when thou art not by. 
 
 Thou fpringeft at grey dawn to greet 
 The radiant fun, with matins fweet ; 
 
 Nor doft thou reft, 
 
 Till in the weft 
 He fmks, full requiem'd by thy vefpers meet. 
 
 Teach me with thankful heart to wait 
 Thus on my God, both foon and late. 
 
 Who fain would be 
 
 From care fet free, 
 Muft oft be found, like thee, at Heaven's gate.
 
 42 
 
 THOUGHTS AT CHURCH. 
 
 ''HE Preacher in the pulpit ftands, 
 His voice is loud and high ; 
 He aims the arrows of his fpeech 
 To wound and terrify. 
 
 The cleric is nodding at his defk, 
 
 The children are afleep, 
 Through carved door and pointed arch 
 
 The evening fliadows creep. 
 
 A little head of golden curls 
 
 Is pillow'd on my arm, 
 O'er the blue eyes the foft lids droop, 
 
 The rofe-cheek flufhes warm. 
 
 My thoughts are with the quiet dead 
 That in the churchyard lie ; 
 
 Where leafy trees rife tall and dark 
 Againft the amber fky.
 
 Thoughts at Church. 43 
 
 Clofe to the fouthern pathway (lands 
 
 A raifd but fimple tomb, 
 Which when the hues of funfet fade, 
 
 Shows white amidft the gloom. 
 
 There reft two fifters fide by fide, 
 Young, much beloved, and fair ; 
 
 Though parted now the houfehold band. 
 That met to lay them there. 
 
 Two brothers for their country fight 
 
 In Afric's burning clime -, 
 The parents weep one gifted fon 
 
 Who faded in his prime. 
 
 And he too fought, and nobly died, 
 
 A witnefs to the truth ; 
 True to the Captain to whofe caufe 
 
 He vow'd himfelf in youth. 
 
 He warr'd with error and with fin. 
 
 All that can harm the foul ; 
 Unflinching clafp'd his fecret crofs. 
 
 And early won the goal.
 
 44 Thoughts at Church. 
 
 Now by the Tree of Life he fits, 
 Who peace on earth found never ; 
 
 Drinking with rapture unalloy'd 
 Deep of Chrift's love for ever ! 
 
 A paufe, a prayer, and then a ftir — 
 
 We follow with the laft ; 
 The blue eyed boy all timid fhrinks, 
 
 And holds my fingers faft. 
 
 We too are children in the dark, 
 And need a Father's hand ; 
 
 But Faith will make the fhadows clear 
 Senfe cannot underftand.
 
 45 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 Song. 
 
 O this fweet rofe I breathe the vows 
 I dare not breathe to thee; 
 In its fair cup I drop the tear 
 I would not thou fhouldft fee. 
 On its red lips I leave the kifs 
 
 I may not prefs on thine ; 
 It does not fhrinlc from that carefs, 
 Though thou doft fly from mine ! 
 
 Sure fome faint ftirring of its leaves 
 
 Its fecret will declare ; 
 The burden of a breaking heart 
 
 So lately whifper'd there. 
 The bloom upon the rofe will fade, 
 
 Its graceful miffion o'er ; 
 But ah ! the love within my heart 
 
 Springs freftily evermore.
 
 46 
 
 SHE WEPT. 
 
 OT his the fault, and yet he left 
 His old anceftral home ; 
 'Midft unfamiliar fcenes and tones 
 A lonely man to roam. 
 
 Yet one there was, who deep at heart 
 
 His image fondly kept ; 
 And when they told of fortune loft. 
 
 She knelt alone, and wept ! 
 
 And years roll'd on, and he return'd 
 To that dear fpot once more, 
 
 And friends with welcome on their lips 
 Came round him, as of yore. 
 
 And (he too heard, acrofs her foul 
 Joy's mingled tempeft fwept ; 
 
 And once again with glowing cheek 
 She knelt alone, and wept !
 
 She Wept. 
 
 Ah ! coftly drops ! they were not loft, 
 
 Although in fecret given ; 
 The tears that we for others fhed 
 
 Shall count as pearls in Heaven. 
 
 47
 
 48 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [HEN I into her gentle prefence 
 came, 
 A fudden calm upon my fpirit fell — 
 A hufh — as if fome holier atmof- 
 phere 
 Did there encircle me, as if the world 
 With all its whirl of vanity and fm 
 Were by that portal barr'd, and I were drawn 
 Nearer to Heaven. — So this bufy life 
 Of lefs account appear'd, and weightier grew 
 The unfeen Future. She was nearing faft 
 That other glorious rlfing of the foul 
 That knows no fetting, nor fhall ever know ; 
 And fomething of the immortal even here 
 Could in her mien by loving eyes be traced. 
 It mujl be^ that each upward thought and prayer, 
 Each word of love, and deed of facrifice, 
 Each yearning afpiration after good, 
 Doth leave its imprefs on our outward mould, 
 Refining what is bafe, and bringing back
 
 Lines. 
 
 49 
 
 The image that was marr'd when Adam fell. 
 *Twas thus when gazing on her face, I felt 
 That I at Heaven's threfhold ftood the while ; 
 Ay ! more, on holy ground, for fhe was good, 
 And goodnefs doth to man forefhadow God, 
 For God Himfelf is goodnefs perfected !
 
 50 
 
 « THIS IS THE LAST ROSE." 
 
 UMMER'S laft Rofe ! 
 How doubly beautiful doft thou 
 
 appear, 
 Laft of the lovely band that fhall 
 this year 
 Its fweets difclofe. 
 
 Fragrant thy breath ! 
 A namelefs charm about thine odour clings, 
 And brighter crimfon on thy petals flings 
 
 On eve of death ! 
 
 How deeply green 
 The veined tracery of thy fringed leaves ! 
 And yet thou art the laft, and fummer grieves 
 
 For her laft queen. 
 
 Our human Rofes ! 
 Thofe that made earth a garden of delight, 
 Fade from us one by one, and out of fight 
 
 Their duft repofes.
 
 " This is the Last Rose." 51 
 
 Summer once more 
 Shall fet her colour'd gems on every bough, 
 And prank herfelf with rofebud wreaths — but 
 thou, 
 
 Thy life is o'er ! 
 
 But thofe dear eyes 
 That, clofmg, ftole the funfhine from our days, 
 Shall meet our own with tenderer, holier gaze, 
 
 In Paradife !
 
 52 
 
 THE HOME-ANGEL. 
 
 >HE dwelt apart from early youth 
 In gentle houfehold ways ; 
 Contented with her Mother's fmile, 
 And with her Father's praife. 
 Hers was " the grace of quiet born," 
 
 Of fancies gay and pure ; 
 Of trufting love that could obey, 
 And ftrength that could endure. 
 
 ft 
 
 Beauty from fimpleft adlions rofe, 
 
 And harmony from ftrife ; 
 So did her kindly fpirit fufe 
 
 The elements of life. 
 Hers was the hand that freely gave, 
 
 The ready fmile or figh. 
 The cheek that true to feeling flufti'd, 
 
 The bright and upward eye. 
 
 A ftranger came, he look'd and loved, 
 He whifper'd at her fide ;
 
 The Home-Angel. 53 
 
 There fell a fliadow on her home 
 
 The day he claim'd his bride. 
 And well fhe kept her vows, fhe turn'd 
 
 The profe of life to fong ; 
 But all too hieh that ftrain for earth, — 
 
 And it was hufli'd ere long. 
 
 She died, ere love was fully told. 
 
 As dies a flower in fpring ; 
 Earth never lolt, nor heaven gain'd 
 
 A fairer, fweeter thing. 
 Ay, hundreds like her live and die, 
 
 In England's houfehold bowers ; 
 And bleffed are the hearts that feel 
 
 " Such angels yet are ours."
 
 54 
 
 OLD LOVE-SONG. 
 
 ;HIS is the birthday of my love, 
 Then vanifti care and forrow ! 
 To-day fhall mirth and pleafure 
 reign, 
 
 Though grief fhould come to-morrow. 
 My love draws near with airy tread. 
 
 And glances fhy and fweet : 
 Sing, little birds ! above her head, 
 
 Bloom, flowers ! beneath her feet. 
 The happy earth is once a year 
 Dreft out in Spring's array ; 
 But, when my lady walks abroad. 
 With me 'tis ever May.
 
 55 
 
 TO BENHALL. 
 
 BLESSING reft upon thy claflic 
 
 fhades, 
 Sweet Benhall ! bofom'd in luxuri- 
 ant green. 
 
 Long may the cedar and the giant beech, 
 With lighter foliage of fifter trees, 
 Drop balmy fhadow and refrefhing gloom 
 Upon thy moffy turf ! May fummer ftrew 
 With lavifti hand, blue, gold, and fcarlet dyes 
 On the mofaic of the flowery beds 
 Where hums the bee, and flaunts the butterfly 
 Her wing of broider'd velvet in the fun ! 
 Long years to come, upon the garden wall 
 Set in the dark of broad and glofty leaves, 
 May the magnolia ope her fragrant fnows, 
 Wooing the young airs to a treacherous kifs 
 To fee them fwoon with fweetnefs ; and the 
 
 flower 
 That hangs acacia-like her lilac blooms 
 In pendant clufters. There, rare creepers twine 
 Their long feftoons o'er wiry trellifes.
 
 56 To Benhall. 
 
 And arching bowers, ivy-canopied ; 
 And here the yellow mailed robber comes 
 To feaft on melting peach and lufcious plum, 
 Gay epicure at nature's banquet, fpread 
 On bending boughs, in Auguft's fiery prime. 
 Here the grey ftone hems in the brimming wave 
 With prifon walls. Upon the captive's breaft 
 The floating lilies pillow their fair heads 
 For pity, and with veil of moifl round leaves 
 Shield it from noontide glances all too hot ; 
 Whilft o'er it fpreads the heav'n its deepeft blue. 
 And cheers its night with fhine of thoufand ftars. 
 Now let us enter. Oh how cool and dim 
 The light that fteals fubdued through opening 
 
 buds 
 Of clematis, and woven jeflamine. 
 Which through the lattice force their flender 
 
 fprays ; 
 With rofes, hot with bluflies damafk red. 
 Here might the ftudent happy vigils keep, 
 'Midft works that link him to the mighty dead. 
 For there in ample rows they duly fland, 
 In hoary vellum bound, or ancient brown. 
 There too in mellow-tinted beauty bafk 
 The lovely vifions of the dreamy South, 
 Where Life is love, and Art is ever young ;
 
 To Benhall. 57 
 
 Whilft fhadowy mingle in that foft obfcure 
 The calm creations of the colder North. 
 Here, wood and ivory, all quaintly carved 
 With rich device of pattern and inlay. 
 Tell of the foreign fhore or Indian ftrand ; 
 Her antique vafes diftant China fends. 
 And Sevres the garlands that will never fade. 
 There ftands, in marble wrought, the Mercury 
 Ever with outfpread wing in a6t to fly. 
 Yet ever lino-erino; for the long; laft words 
 That never fhall be fpoken. Downcaft there 
 The timid Venus owns her charms divine, 
 For ever wrapt in trance of mute fufpenfe. 
 Whence this perfume myfterioufly fweet ? 
 Is it a wandering gale from Grecian ifles, 
 Imprifon'd in a charm'd captivity. 
 With tender figh mourning its funny home ? 
 Seethroughtranfparent doors, where freely trails. 
 The tendril'd vine, with myrtle interlaced. 
 And clinging pafTion-flower, and, welcome gueft. 
 The orange, yielding to our fterner clime 
 Her bridal bloflbms and her orbed fruit ; 
 Whilft blent with every brilliant hue and fhape 
 The fuchfia hangs her taflels, pearly white, 
 Or crimfon, with their purple inner bell. 
 Nor feats are wanting in that wide alcove,
 
 58 To Benhall. 
 
 The downy cufliion and the low divan, 
 For poet-mufings in the fpring time meet, 
 Or drowfy flumbers lulling to the tune 
 Of falling rain-drops from a bounteous urn 
 Down dripping to a bafon, high upheld 
 By graceful Naiads, ever thirfty-lipp'd, 
 Craving in vain a draught of that clear flood. 
 Coo on, fweet doves ! beneath the eaftern eaves. 
 With whifper'd chant, monotonous and low — 
 Sing on, fweet birds ! in zephyr-cradled bower. 
 Or laurel fcreen, — though never more mine ear 
 May drink your mufic, to my lonely hours 
 Shall memory with her enchanted fpell 
 Bring back the vanifh'd ftrains, tho' ye be flown. 
 Farewell, fweet Benhall ! oft in after years 
 The thought oftheefhallftand'twixt me and care; 
 Nor (hall chill autumn with her witherinor breath 
 Shake from thy trees one folitary leaf, 
 Or winter froft their branches ; but for me 
 Perpetual Summer on the landfcape fmile 
 For ever ! . . . .
 
 59 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 STOOD befide thee— on the 
 morn 
 That I thy love did alk and win ; 
 How beautiful the earth did feem, 
 Touch'd by the fpirit-light within ! 
 
 I flood befide thee — when deep words, 
 Breathed at God's altar, made us one ; 
 
 And found each palling year increafe 
 The happinefs that then begun. 
 
 I ftood befide thee — when thy voice 
 Made mufic in the houfe of prayer ; 
 
 In the low tones that, always fweet, 
 Sounded ftill more melodious there. 
 
 I ftood befide thee — when thou gaveft 
 Kind words of comfort to the poor ; 
 
 And left the gift that made him blefs 
 The day that faw thee at his door.
 
 6o Stanzas. 
 
 I ftood befide thee — when thy coucii 
 Of pain became the bed of death ; 
 
 Caught the laft glance of thy dear eyes, 
 Felt on my cheek thy laft faint breath. 
 
 I ftood befide thee — when thy form 
 Still as the fculptured marble lay ; 
 
 Yet wore the fpeechlefs lips a fmile 
 Death could but fix, not take away. 
 
 I ftood befide the open grave 
 
 When it received thy honour'd duft ; 
 
 Low in its narrow cell to wait 
 The refurreilion of the juft. 
 
 I ftood befide the marble ftone, 
 
 And read the brief incription there ; 
 
 " Afleep in Jefus" — biefled words ! — 
 They made me ftrong my grief to bear. 
 
 And oh ! when God ftiall call me hence 
 To join, through grace, the fainted band ; 
 
 May I, where time fliall be no more. 
 Still at thy fide, bleft angel, ftand !
 
 6i 
 
 THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. 
 
 E hoary trees ! beneath whofe 
 facred ihade 
 The Saviour of the world at mid- 
 night pray'd, 
 We feel ye eloquent in every leaf 
 Of His ftrange agony, fublime and brief. 
 " Father ! let this cup pafs, — but if it be 
 Thy will, I drink — Thy will be done in me !" 
 The foul fubdued the flelh. The obedient word 
 One angel and the three difciples heard ; 
 Heaven fung that folemn vi6lory above — 
 Earth learnt the leflon of all-conquering love. 
 
 Perfe£l felf-facrifice ! — the only key 
 
 To life's long difcipline and myftery. 
 
 On this moft holy ground ftill feems that prayer 
 
 Breathed by the Son of Man to haunt the air ; 
 
 Its echo lingers in Gethfemane, 
 
 " Make Thy will mine" — Father, fo let it be !
 
 62 
 
 A CHARACTER. 
 
 ^gfj^^RUE to her God— though full of 
 human weaknefs, 
 She look'd from doubts within to 
 help above ; 
 Bearing long chaftening with a humble 
 meeknefs, 
 Rejoicing moft in His great name of" Love." 
 
 True to her Church — in whofe abundant fitnefs 
 For human wants, fhe mark'd a thought 
 divine ; 
 And in whofe martyr-band a glorious witnefs 
 To truths which through their blood more 
 brightly (hine. 
 
 True to her Oueen — the outward bearing loyal 
 Rofe from the truly loyal heart within, 
 
 In all her thoughts and fympathies right royal. 
 She honour'd merit, and difhonour'd fin.
 
 A Character. 63 
 
 True to her country — to its high improvement 
 Her time, her thought, her wealth, her name, 
 were given ; 
 In fecret aiding every upward movement 
 That nearer raifed each human foul to Heaven. 
 
 True to her friends — their ignorance, their 
 failing, 
 
 She hid as facred in her faithful breaft ; 
 With charity their imperfedions veiling, 
 
 She loved their virtues and excufed the reft. 
 
 Nor count this pidure but a poet's dreaming : 
 Angels in guife like hers ftill walk our earth ; 
 
 Pray we for eyes to pierce their outward feeming. 
 And reverence betimes their inward worth.
 
 64 
 
 SONG. 
 
 rE met — as friends together meet — 
 A gay and focial throng ; 
 Why languor in the circling dance ? 
 Why minors in the fong ? 
 Upon each face a fhadow fell, 
 
 What could its meaning be ? 
 One voice was miffing from the ftrain, 
 We paufed, and thought of thee. 
 
 We know for thee on rofy wings 
 
 Float by the bridal hours ; 
 Love's fun upon thy path is bright, 
 
 But who ftiall gladden ours ? 
 Thy face, thy fmile, for other hearts. 
 
 In other homes will be ; 
 Ah ! therefore mingle fond regrets 
 
 With all our thoughts of thee.
 
 65 
 
 " AT LEAST IT IS A WHITE 
 FLOWER." 
 
 RI NG her white flowers, — let them 
 be drooping fnowdrops — 
 Pure comes the infant from its 
 Father's hands ; 
 Promife of fummer bloom and autumn harveft, 
 In the world-garden fmilingly it ftands. 
 
 Bring her white flowers — let them be opening 
 rofes, 
 
 For Confirmation's holy rite is near ; 
 And fhewill confecrate herlife's young morning, 
 
 Faith's prime — unclouded or by doubt or fear. 
 
 Bring hither now the folemn pafl[ion-flower. 
 The living feafl for dying fouls is fpread ; 
 
 And fhe with meekeft rapture is partaking 
 The facramental wine, and broken bread. 
 
 F
 
 66 " At least it is a White Flower." 
 
 Bring her white flowers — the fnowy orange 
 bloflbms, 
 
 The fragrant petals of her virgin heart, 
 Expand to fun themfelves in love's bright heaven, 
 
 Receiving thence the beauty they impart. 
 
 Bring her white flowers — the cold and fpotless 
 lily— 
 
 Our love's laft token ere her long calm fleep ; 
 It may be, glorious from that trance awaking, 
 
 A white-robed faint, flie will the lily keep.
 
 67 
 
 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 ^AKE thefe bright flowers ! long 
 years have paft 
 Since Love and Faith breathed 
 low their vow ; 
 And what were buds of promife then, 
 Are bloflbms of fulfilment now. 
 
 The children that once round us play'd 
 In carelefs mirth and fimple glee, 
 
 Have fprung to beauty at our fide. 
 Green leafage of the parent tree. 
 
 Young lovers whifper to our girls 
 
 As I to thee in days of yore ; 
 May but their future prove as bleft 
 
 As ours — I cannot wifli them more. 
 
 Ay ! let me gaze, though I fhould bring 
 The foft rofe-blufh into thy face; 
 
 Still art thou fair — Time hath but touch'd 
 The maiden into matron-grace.
 
 68 
 
 Second Spring. 
 
 Sure love that has endured like ours, 
 
 May ripen to a fecond youth ; 
 Though gilding years that yet remain 
 
 With lefs of warmth, and more of truth. 
 
 Then take them — meet they are for thofe 
 Whofe footfteps pafs from light to fhade, 
 
 To whom a radiant glimpfe is given 
 Of worlds whofe flowers never fade. 
 
 ^;iM^2^
 
 69 
 
 ON A PICTURE. 
 
 jOOR wayworn pilgrim ! with what 
 
 earneft grafp 
 He to the crofs doth cling ! his 
 
 face is pale, 
 
 And harrow'd with the ftruggle of fierce thoughts 
 Within, which fpite of beads and monkifli cell, 
 Whifper temptations to the fm-wrung foul. 
 Sure he is happy in that he hath fled 
 To that fafe refuge, ere the hand of Death 
 Seal up the gate of penitence and prayer ; 
 But oh ! far happier he who in his youth 
 Takes up the crofs, and lives within its fhade, 
 And dies at peace with Him who died thereon.
 
 70 
 
 SONG. 
 
 LOVED thee in fecret, 1 loved 
 
 thee for years — 
 For thee came my fmiles, and for 
 thee fell my tears ; 
 But forrow and fuffering have fhaded my brow, 
 And thy mem'ry is all that is left to me now. 
 
 Whilft my fad heart is breaking, I laugh and 
 
 am gay, 
 For verdure is richeft where deepeft decay ; 
 But my blefling be on thee whene'er I depart. 
 Thy name on my lip, and thy love in my heart.
 
 71 
 
 CLOUDS IN SUMMER. 
 
 VERY cloud doth bear a blefling 
 For fome corner of the earth ; 
 Sun and fhower bring the flower, 
 Ripen fruit to greater worth. 
 
 When a foul doth promife goodnefs, 
 Sorrow will not make it lefs ; 
 
 Rather give it greater power, 
 Through experience to blefs. 
 
 Rain on yellowing wheat-ears falling, 
 Gives the ftieaf a fuller weight ; 
 
 Trial doth in noble natures 
 Wider fympathies create. 
 
 Rain in fpring gives fummer bloflbm. 
 Sweeter fcent and brighter dye ; 
 
 Grief to young hearts earlier teaches 
 Ready fmile and tender figh.
 
 72 Clouds in Summer. 
 
 Thus to human fouls are meted 
 Joy and forrow in due meafure ; 
 
 But the heart that's pierced the deepeft, 
 Ever yields the richeft treafure.
 
 73 
 
 OLD WARDEN WELL. 
 
 :^WAS placed in no fecluded fpot, 
 No lonely foreft glade, 
 Where quivering funbeams 'mid 
 thick leaves 
 Light up the green arcade ; 
 Nor e'er had hermit fix'd his cell 
 Of yore, befide Old Warden Well. 
 
 The legend old, the gay romance. 
 
 Were to its fame denied ; 
 No fairies wove the midnight dance 
 
 Around its cryftal tide ; 
 No wayworn pilgrim ftopp'd, to tell 
 His beads befide Old Warden Well. 
 
 Fair homefteads round about it flood, 
 
 Ivy and rofe-entwined, 
 Whilft on the inmates feem'd to reft 
 
 An influence undefined. 
 The very breezes feem'd to tell 
 Of peace, befide Old Warden Well.
 
 74 Old Warden Well. 
 
 And thoughts there came of Him who fat 
 
 By Sychar's cooling wave, 
 And ufed the type with love divine 
 
 A human foul to fave. 
 Thus did a holy prefence dwell 
 For me, hefide Old Warden Well. 
 
 The weary traveller flops to flake 
 
 His thirft, at fet of fun ; 
 The peafants gather round the brim 
 
 At eve, when work is done. 
 And fweeter founds the Sabbath bell 
 At morn, befide Old Warden Well. 
 
 A blefling reft upon the fprings 
 That fwell that fountain pure ; 
 
 And on his head who raifed the pile, 
 Whofe rich reward is fure. 
 
 For me there ever lies a fpell 
 
 In the dear name, Old Warden Well.
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 \LA ! what mighteft thou have 
 been ? 
 A human angel fair — 
 Like thy fweet Mother in her youth, 
 Dark eyes, and braided hair. 
 Learning to love and lofe and mourn 
 
 With thy advancing years, 
 As Time thy pathway mark'd with graves, 
 With fufFering, and tears. 
 
 Ela ! what art thou now ? we know 
 
 There lives for us in heaven 
 One fpotlefs angel all our own, 
 
 To whom our God hath given 
 Upon her loving Saviour's face 
 
 Adoringly to gaze ; 
 With whom we humbly hope to fpend 
 
 Eternity of days.
 
 76 
 
 " DULCE ET DECORUM EST PRO 
 PATRIA MORI!" 
 
 March, 1855. 
 
 HERE is a fpot to which our 
 anxious thoughts 
 Turn ever, as a pilgrim's to his 
 fhrine ; 
 
 Although between us and its fea-girt fhore 
 Stretches full many a league of foaming brine. 
 
 Not where Spain bafks 'neath fhade of purple 
 vines, 
 
 Not where Italian columns graceful rife, 
 Nor on fome fite renown'd in ftoried Greece, 
 
 Nor 'neath the ftainlefs blue of Syrian fkies. 
 
 A rock-bound coaft upon an alien foil. 
 No beauty bids our inmoft pulfes ftir ; 
 
 And yet it is to us a Holy Land, 
 
 Deep hallow'd by a Nation's fepulchre.
 
 DULCE ET DECORUM, ETC. 77 
 
 A gallant army — England's braveft fons 
 In freedom's caufe have fought and fallen 
 there ; 
 They need no tablet — no memorial ftone — 
 Their names are on our hearts and in our 
 prayer. 
 
 And not alone above the crefcent pale 
 
 Floats Britain's Lion, rampant for the w^ar ; 
 
 For generous foes are generous rivals now, 
 And France befide it waves her Tri-color. 
 
 Not fince the frenzy of the old Crufades 
 Have to one cry thofe banners been unfurl'd. 
 
 To which, perchance, the noble tafk is given, 
 To free mankind, and civilize the world. 
 
 The moonlit banks of Alma's willowy river 
 Have feen them conquerors in that dread ftrife ; 
 
 Spring (hall ftrew bloflbms o'er the head of 
 thofe 
 Who held their honour dearer than their life. 
 
 The charge on Balaklava's plain is writ 
 In the beft blood of England's chivalry ;
 
 78 DULCE ET DECORUM 
 
 With calm refolve they meet the ftern command ; 
 They could not conquer, but they would 
 not fly. 
 
 And men alike invincible were thofe 
 
 Who hand to hand engag'd at Inkerman, 
 
 Compelling victory's ftar to rife full orb'd, 
 Which waned to fetting when the fight began. 
 
 Alas ! for thofe who wafting day by day, 
 Kept faithful watchbythofebeleaguer'd walls; 
 
 And vainly battled with difeafe and toil. 
 
 Their only fliroud the fnow that pitying falls. 
 
 No glorious wound, no foldier's death, was 
 theirs, 
 Want flew them, and their epitaph is brief; 
 Their voices call us from the burden'd ground, 
 And England mourns them with indignant 
 grief. 
 
 And yet, athwart the thunder clouds of war 
 Some foft'ning gleams are to the darknefs given ; 
 
 Lo ! gentle Woman haftens to difpenfe 
 Mild mercy, fragrant of her native heaven.
 
 EST PRO PaTRIA MORI ! 79 
 
 Far from her home, her friends, a peaceful 
 dove 
 Through lazar-wards fhe glides, with kindly 
 eyes \ 
 Her prefence falls on fever'd hearts like dew, 
 The parting foul mounts freer to the fkies. 
 
 Then what though weakly mann'd and tempeft 
 toff'd, 
 Laboursthrough many fhoals the Ship of State, 
 Her timbers are not rotten at the core, 
 
 Such fons and daughters make and keep her 
 great. 
 
 Long months have paft,and ftill with ceafelefs din 
 The hollow echoes of artillery roll ; 
 
 And in the future's balance trembles yet 
 The fate that threatens proud Sebaftopol. 
 
 And ftill the hoftile mafts are briftling high 
 In Balaklava's port, and Kamiefch Bay ; 
 
 And hearts beat quick, and timid hope grows 
 ftrong. 
 As fwells the armament from day to day. 
 
 And Ruflia's Monarch breathes his lateft fip;h 
 In the fierce tumult that he loved fo well ;
 
 80 DULCE ET DECORUM, ETC. 
 
 His requiem by dying groans is fung, 
 
 And booming cannon thunder forth his knell. 
 
 O white clifF'd Albion ! with thy fifter Ifle 
 Set like a fair pearl in the weftern feas j 
 
 Whofechildren rule like kings thro' all the earth, 
 Whofe flag triumphant floats on every breeze. 
 
 What though their footprints have been track'd 
 with blood 
 In the far land where hero-like they fight ; 
 Frefti laurels from their grave fhall wreathe 
 thy brow. 
 For it is God-like to defend the Right !
 
 8i 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 HAVE notknown her many years, 
 And few our words have been ; 
 
 And yet (he reigns within my heart 
 For evermore its queen. 
 
 For others fall her words of love, 
 
 Her laughter and her glee ; 
 Her woman's looks, her houfehold ways, 
 
 Sweet myfteries are for me. 
 
 But there is that upon her brow. 
 
 And in her calm blue eye. 
 That thrills me with a confcious power, 
 
 Although fhe be not nigh. 
 
 She is to me the twilight dim. 
 
 Or the firft evening ftar. 
 That, when the glare of day is paft. 
 
 Gleams foftly from afar. 
 
 G
 
 82 Stanzas. 
 
 The ftar may ne'er to earth be brought, 
 
 But deep within my breaft 
 As in a mirror pure and true, 
 
 Her image fafe may reft.
 
 83 
 
 DUTY. 
 
 \F thou wouldft gain a blefling to 
 
 thyfelf, 
 And thus thyfelf blefs others, thou 
 
 muft make 
 A friend of Duty. She with upturn'd eye 
 And fteady foot the ftony path purfues 
 In whofe perfpe6live ftands her goal — the Crofs. 
 The thorns fhe treads on, faft behind her bloom 
 To rofes, fhedding fweet perfume around. 
 What if fhe leave the richly glowing Weft 
 With all its funfet pomp, for the dark Eaft t 
 Do not the ftars keep bright'ning one by one 
 Above her, as fhe wends her lonely courfe t 
 Is fhe not firft to greet the rifmg orb 
 When night is paft ? — How in that dear-bought 
 
 light 
 She will, to Happinefs transfigured, fhine !
 
 84 
 
 ON SOME HOTHOUSE FLOWERS. 
 
 AKE hence thefe early flowers, 
 Frelh breathing of the fpring ; 
 Too much of youth, too much of 
 hope. 
 Doth to their beauty cling. 
 Why mind me of that blefled time 
 When hope and youth were in their prime? 
 
 There droops in virgin white 
 
 The fnowdrop wan and pale ; 
 And there the flufh'd anemone, 
 
 Love-whifper'd by the gale. 
 And there, with heaven's own dew ftill wet. 
 The fragrant dark-eyed violet. 
 
 There, ringing painted bells, 
 
 A fpray of crimfon heath ; 
 And lauruftinus, ever found 
 
 In winter's leafy wreath ;
 
 On some Hothouse Flowers. 85 
 
 With frofted clufters, ftar-like feen 
 Set in a ground of dufky green. 
 
 And there the feftive holly, 
 
 With coral berries gay ; 
 Would that the holy thought it brings 
 
 Could ever with us ftay ! 
 Why fliould pure faith and fimple heart 
 So oft with childifti years depart ? 
 
 And there — but ah ! the tears 
 
 Quick gather to mine eyes ; 
 For in that dark and fhining leaf 
 
 A hidden meaning lies. 
 To me its veined page is rife 
 With the deep fecret of a life. 
 
 O Eden ! where for me 
 
 The tree of knowledge grew — 
 
 That deep firft-love ! whofe fruit is life, 
 Yet deadly poifon too. 
 
 A flaming fword doth guard thy door. 
 
 And I muft never enter more ! 
 
 Yet mem'ry to that fpot 
 
 Doth glide, a mournful ghoft,
 
 86 On some Hothouse Flowers. 
 
 Retracing with a tender care 
 The fcene of bleflings loft. 
 Still fondly hovering round the place 
 Where firft I faw that lovely face !
 
 87 
 
 A REAL INCIDENT. 
 
 ^^HE poor man bore the marks of toil, 
 Thread-bare and mean was he ; 
 The greyhound had a glofly coat, 
 And came " of high degree." 
 
 The poor man fought with mild carefs 
 
 To win him to his fide ; 
 The pretty creature bounding came. 
 
 He had no touch of pride. 
 
 He trufting laid his gentle head 
 
 Againft the rugged cheek, 
 And upward glanced with luftrous eyes 
 
 That could do all but fpeak. 
 
 " Thou haft a finer coat than mine," 
 The poor man whifpering faid ; 
 
 '' And kind hands tend thee, whilft I earn 
 " With fweat my daily bread.
 
 88 A REAL Incident. 
 
 " Would that my children fared as thou." 
 
 His manly head bow'd low ; 
 And on the greyhound's flender neck 
 
 I law the teardrops flow. 
 
 The tale is fraught with truth for us — 
 
 Deny it if we can ; 
 The dog may fliame the grace we fhow 
 
 Unto our brother man.
 
 89 
 
 THE BLIND MUSICIAN. 
 
 \HE fun is brio;ht — he fits alone 
 Within that darken'd room ; 
 To him the day brings nought of 
 cheer, 
 
 The night brings nought of gloom. 
 A little bird is warbling low 
 
 A fitful joyous ftrain, 
 Awakening echoes of the paft, 
 Half pleafure and half pain. 
 
 Was it a thought of fadnefs crofT'd 
 
 That broad and lofty brow, 
 Or but a fhadow from without ? 
 
 For it hath vanifti'd now. 
 Once more his fingers guide the pen. 
 
 And o'er the languid eye 
 That can no longer aid the tafk, 
 
 The lid droops heavily.
 
 90 The Blind Musician. 
 
 A fpringing ftep, a mute carefs, 
 
 He turns to her embrace ; 
 His young wife prefles to his fide, 
 
 Her deareft refting-place. 
 Her face is pale, but not with grief. 
 
 And in her earneft eyes 
 We read how ftrong a woman's love 
 
 Warm at her bofom lies. 
 
 She draws the curtain-folds afide, 
 
 In floats the evening air. 
 And wantons with her golden curls 
 
 And his dark waving hair. 
 Her hands prepare the fimple meal, 
 
 She trills a fong the while ; 
 Or tells a tale of olden time. 
 
 And wins him to a fmile. 
 
 She takes the dumb and precious page, 
 
 She gives it found and fpeech 
 With the fweet cunning of the art 
 
 That love and nature teach. 
 And as her fingers touch the keys. 
 
 And to his ear impart 
 The fine creations of his brain, 
 
 The feelings of his heart ; —
 
 The Blind Musician. 91 
 
 And as her voice awakes the fong 
 
 In tones fo clear and fweet. 
 They might have drawn an angel down 
 
 To liften at her feet. 
 He bows his head a little fpace, 
 
 " 'Twere worth another life 
 " Of darknefs, wearinefs, and toil, 
 
 " Again to call thee ' Wife' " — 
 
 And fhe — " I afk no other lot 
 
 " Than this, thy light to be ; 
 " To minifter of all the gifts 
 
 " That God hath granted me. 
 " Time cannot change me to thy hearty 
 
 " The ideal pictured there 
 " By age unalter'd will remain, 
 
 " For ever young and fair !"
 
 92 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 ^ ROAM'D in dreams through 
 thofe deferted halls 
 
 Where whilom I a happy gueft 
 had been ; 
 But through their length and breadth in vain I 
 
 pafT'd, 
 No form, no fhadow but my own, was feen. 
 
 Room after room re-echoed with my tread, 
 I reach'd thine own, 'twas vacant like the reft ; 
 
 No tokens of thy prefence ; — with a figh 
 I turn'd to weep that I was ftill unbleft. 
 
 Not Sleep, the fweet deceiver, will reftore 
 That face, that form, though at her golden gate 
 
 I fue, a humble fuppliant for the boon 
 Denied, that bids me waken defolate ! 
 
 O weary Life ! O felfe and faithlefs Sleep ! 
 
 O Memory ! that mocks me as of old ! 
 Another world the longing (hall fulfil. 
 
 And Death confer the blefling ye withhold.
 
 93 
 
 MY FATHER'S HOUSE. 
 
 " In my Father's houfe are many manfions : if it were 
 not fo, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place 
 for you." 
 
 E liquid gleams of fading light, 
 Of opal and rofe-amber hues, 
 Which, when the flantins fun 
 hath fet, 
 
 The deepening brow of heaven fuffufe ; 
 Your rainbow tapeftry is meet 
 For airy tread of angels' feet ; 
 Fit threfhold for that glorious place, 
 My Father's Houfe ! 
 
 I can but gaze with wifhful eye 
 
 Upon a fight fo pafling rare ; 
 Half envious of the gold-fringed clouds 
 
 That float with reftful motion there ; 
 Whilft through blue depths, on tirelefs wing. 
 The free birds foar, and feem to bring 
 Glad tidings from that glorious place. 
 My Father's Houfe !
 
 94 My Father's House. 
 
 The dazzlino; radiance of the fun 
 
 Is needed not where all is bright ; 
 Nor filver lamp of orbed moon 
 
 Where neither evening comes, nor night. 
 The ftars that glitter o'er our head 
 Are but its fpangled pavement fpread, 
 No fhadows dim that glorious place, 
 My Father's Houfe ! 
 
 Oh ! countlefs are the manfions there 
 
 For thofe made pure from taint of fin, 
 Open its gates and wide its doors. 
 
 That ranfom'd fouls may enter in. 
 There refi: the holy faints of God, 
 Who in the patient footfteps trod 
 Of Him who call'd that glorious place 
 Mv Father's Houfe ! 
 
 The early dead, on whofe fair locks 
 
 E'en here a fhadowy crown was fet ; 
 And, ripe for change, the filver'd head 
 
 Mourn'd lovingly with cheek ftill wet ; 
 Links clofeft in the chain of life. 
 The lover, hufband, brother, wife. 
 Have but reach'd firft that glorious place, 
 My Father's Houfe !
 
 My Father's House. 95 
 
 Oh ! happy thofe whofe treafure lies 
 Safe garner'd in the courts above ; 
 
 Who yearn for death with hope as ftrong 
 As for the ark the ftorm-toff'd dove ; 
 
 They wait for us, oh thought how fweet ! 
 
 Their holy circle to complete. 
 
 No partings in that glorious place, 
 
 My Father's Houfe ! 
 
 Familiar faces on us fmile, 
 
 Untouch'd by pain, or age, or care ; 
 Familiar voices thrill our ears, 
 
 But no fad under-tone is there. 
 The eyes we clofed for their long reft, 
 The hands we folded on the breaft. 
 Bid welcome to that glorious place, 
 
 My Father's Houfe ! 
 
 And there, in human form divine. 
 
 The world's Redeemer waiting ftands, 
 
 A glory round His brow ferene. 
 
 And print of nails in feet and hands. 
 
 Our Saviour, God's beloved Son, 
 
 Who by obedient fufFering won 
 
 Our entrance to that glorious place. 
 
 My Father's Houfe !
 
 96 
 
 My Father's House. 
 
 With fuch a blefled home in ftore, 
 
 Why are our faith and hope fo low ? 
 Rather our grateful hearts fhould make 
 
 A cheerful mufic as we go. 
 Oh joy all other joys above. 
 To dwell " inftght" of all we love 
 For ever, — in that glorious place, 
 
 My Father's Houfe !
 
 97 
 
 SEPARATION. 
 
 [E are not parted from the friends we 
 love, 
 Becaufe between us rolls the broad 
 fait fea ; 
 Our thoughts unite us, abfent though we roam, 
 
 Our happy dreams of meetings yet to be : 
 'Midft polar fnows, in India's fultry clime. 
 The links encircling fuch yield not to time. 
 
 Parting is of the heart, and not of fpace. 
 And even in one houfehold day by day 
 
 Partition walls by flight degrees may rife, 
 And make a prifon of each mould of clay ; 
 
 And thofe who daily meet to outward ken. 
 
 May live for years eftranged unloving men. 
 
 Many the caufes of this mournful change ; 
 
 Bufmefs or grief, a lover or a bride ; 
 A hidden care, may be a cherifh'd fin, 
 
 Difeafe or jealoufy, referve or pride : 
 
 H
 
 98 Separation. 
 
 The genial fprings of life freeze flowly o'er, 
 Ice glitters where the current flow'd before. 
 
 One balm alone there is for this great woe, — 
 Love God ! and loving Him thou fhalt have 
 all; 
 Through every vexed mood He fmiles the fame, 
 Though earthly friends befide thee ftandor 
 fall; 
 Only guard well each thought and word and 
 
 tone. 
 That the great fin of fchifm be not thine own.
 
 99 
 
 SONG OF THE SIRENS. 
 
 ;OME ! Come ! Come ! Mariners 
 faint and weary, 
 Reft ! Reft ! Reft ! fair is our 
 ifland home. 
 Stay ! Stay ! Stay ! Are not the black fhips 
 dreary ? 
 Fly ! Fly ! Fly ! over the pearly foam. 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! Hear ye the harp-tones 
 
 thrilling ? 
 Near ! Near ! Near ! fweet are the melodies 
 
 fwelling, 
 Far ! Far ! Far ! echoes around are dying, 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! Lift to the Sirens' Song. 
 
 Come ! Come ! Come ! dark grow the purple 
 waters, 
 Reft ! Reft ! Reft ! white hands the garlands 
 twine. 
 Stay ! Stay ! Stay ! lovely are ocean's daughters. 
 Fly ! Fly ! Fly ! clear is the rofy wine.
 
 100 Song of the Sirens. 
 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! hear ye our charmed num- 
 bers. 
 
 Near ! Near ! Near ! hovers night's drowfy 
 pinions, 
 
 Far ! Far ! Far ! lies the old land ye're feeking, 
 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! Lift to the Sirens' Song. 
 
 Come ! Come ! Come ! Chief with the long 
 
 locks hoary, 
 
 Reft ! Reft ! Reft ! knowledge of all is ours ! 
 
 Stay ! Stay ! Stay ! Warriors renown'd in ftory. 
 
 Fly ! Fly ! Fly ! feaft in our fragrant bowers. 
 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! waves o'er the pale fands are 
 
 creeping, 
 Near ! Near ! Near ! fee ye our torches gleam- 
 ing, 
 Far ! Far ! Far ! morning's bright chariot lin- 
 gers, 
 Lift ! Lift ! Lift ! Lift to the Sirens' Song.
 
 lOI 
 
 LINES. 
 
 REVERENT gazed upon thy 
 placid clay, 
 When death had fet the weary 
 fpirit free ; 
 
 And with the touching fight the thought arofe, 
 " How beautiful an angel thou muft be !" 
 
 For thou wert beautiful in life — the face, 
 The form — that feen, for ever haunt — were 
 thine ; 
 But time and fufFering their grace had marr'd ; 
 How now transfigured, thou above muft 
 fhine ! 
 
 How marble fmooth the brow by pain once 
 wrung ! 
 
 How ftill the quivering lip ; and o'er the eye 
 That flafti'd fo lately with a fever fire, 
 
 How prefs the long black lafhes heavily !
 
 102 Lines. 
 
 And the rich mafles of thy raven hair 
 
 Reft with a weight on that wan wafted cheek, 
 And on thy breaft, as though in pray'r, are 
 clafp'd 
 The hands that ours to prefs no more fhall 
 feek. 
 
 Yet we with fond diftruft a fign would crave, 
 Would know if dear to God our loved one 
 died ; 
 
 But where were faith, if to his Father's arms 
 We, as to fome blind fate, the child confide? 
 
 Not ours to queftion why the ftar has fet ; 
 
 God calls no labourer from his talk in vain ; 
 Death does but change the outward to our fight, 
 
 " All that is precious we ftiall meet again !"
 
 103 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 No trace of a foflil rofe has ever yet been difcovered." 
 
 lOT in the archives of the elder 
 world, 
 That graven deep in ftrata bu- 
 ried lie ; 
 The hieroglyphics of creation's birth, 
 
 When duly ponder'd with a reverent eye. 
 
 Not on thofe ftony tablets is imprefs'd 
 
 Trace of thy fragile form, O queenly rofe ! 
 
 Thou haft not ftiared with nature's giant 
 growths 
 Long centuries of dark entomb'd repofe. 
 
 All frefhly moulded from the hand of God 
 Thou wond'ring didft awake in Paradife ; 
 
 And firft thy fnowy petals warmly blufh'd, 
 Confcious of rapture in Eve's luftrous eyes. 
 
 Thou the ideal of the Poet art ; 
 
 Emblem of love, of beauty, and of youth;
 
 104 The Rose. 
 
 A world without a rofe ! then had we loft 
 A wealth of lovely types and lovelier truth. 
 
 By thee the lover's fecret is confefs'd, 
 Thy bloflbms wreathe the fair bride's droop- 
 ing head ; 
 All noble womanhood in thee is fumm'd, 
 All thoughts of grace, where thy perfume is 
 fhed. 
 
 And if around the grave where loft ones fleep 
 We twine thy fprays, 'tis that we gladly truft 
 
 That they, like thee at Spring's reviving breath. 
 Shall one day rife more glorious from their 
 duft. 
 
 Thou wilt be blooming on, immortal flower ! 
 When with a long laft look, thefe eyelids 
 clofe ; 
 Then may fome kind hand place thee on my 
 breaft, 
 And whifper foft — "She ever loved the rofe."
 
 105 
 
 FAIRY SONG. 
 
 To the tune of " Binder, ich und du." 
 
 , N a mofly dell, 
 
 Where a fairy fpell 
 On bud and floweret lies ; 
 Where over head 
 A dome is fpread 
 By blue and cloudlefs (kies ; 
 There, when ftars are fliining bright. 
 Fairies gaily dance all night ; 
 Lightly, lightly, flies the dance along. 
 
 In a fairy dell, 
 Where each painted bell 
 At night perfumes difclofe ; 
 Before the dawn 
 Of early morn 
 A fhadowy twilight throws ; 
 Like the carol of a bird, 
 May the diftant ftrains be heard. 
 Sweetly, fweetly, float the notes of fong.
 
 io6 
 
 LOVE IN SUMMER. 
 
 N the leafy garden, 
 
 'Neath the evening ftar, 
 Hand in hand they wander, 
 They that lovers are. 
 
 In the weft a gleaming, 
 
 Where the fun went down ; 
 
 In the eaft a fplendour 
 
 From eve's bright'ning crown. 
 
 Gloom beneath the branches. 
 
 Odours in the air, 
 Happy are the lovers 
 
 Wandering flowly there. 
 
 Night hath many voices. 
 None to him fo dear 
 
 As the low-toned whifpers 
 Dying on his ear.
 
 Love in Summer. 107 
 
 Night hath dim revealings, 
 
 None for him fo high 
 As the true love beaming 
 
 In that foft dark eye. 
 
 Night hath many wonders. 
 
 None fo great as this, 
 How their fouls are meeting 
 
 In that lingering kifs. 
 
 In a fummer garden, 
 
 'Neath an evening ftar, 
 Ever will they wander. 
 
 They that lovers are.
 
 io8 
 
 THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 ^WEET eyes ! whofe glances haunt 
 me yet — 
 Sweet voice ! whofe tones yet 
 thrill mine ear — 
 Where can I find a magic fpell 
 
 To bind ye to my foul more near ? 
 
 " For memory waxes faint and dim, 
 And vainly tells her treafures o'er, 
 
 As month by month the fhadows fall 
 
 Round fomething clear and bright before." 
 
 But whilft in folitude I mourn'd. 
 Love, the divine magician, came ; 
 
 And breathing on my heart, reftored 
 The outward femblance to the name. 
 
 Thrill now, fweet voice, for ever thrill ! 
 
 Shine now, for ever (hine, fweet eyes ! 
 Henceforth, embalm'd, ye fear no time. 
 
 For, what Love breathes on, never dies !
 
 109 
 
 REGRETS. 
 
 HN fuch a morn I told my love — 
 Thou wert a girlifh thing ; 
 Frefh as a primrofe ftrewn by May, 
 Blythe as a lark in fpring. 
 Upon thy cheek there was no blufh, 
 
 And in thy heart no pain ; 
 Nought but a look of ftiy furprife ; 
 I knew I loved in vain ! 
 
 Why did I thus too rafhly lift 
 
 The fhadowy veil afide, 
 Which doth the border-land of Youth 
 
 From Life's ftern realm divide ? 
 Too early to thy gentle foul 
 
 I made the fecret known, 
 As a rough hand will tear apart 
 
 The bud as yet unblown. 
 
 I cannot to that guilelefs breaft 
 Its ignorance reftore i
 
 no 
 
 Regrets. 
 
 A change hath pafT'd ; thou canft not be 
 
 As carelefs as before. 
 I only pray, that when again 
 
 The blifsful dream is thine, 
 That happier love may chafe afar 
 
 The memory of mine !
 
 Ill 
 
 FAIRY SONG. 
 
 '^HTdo ye hide in the morning ? 
 Sunfhine and light breezes fcorn- 
 
 ing: 
 I^Fhy do ye hide in the morning ? 
 Fairies, oh whifper to me ! 
 
 We love the night, with its fhadowy light. 
 
 When all ye mortals are fleeping ; 
 And every ftar feems from afar 
 
 Like a faithful eye filent watch keeping. 
 For this do we hide in the morning 
 Sunfhine and light breezes fcorning : 
 For this do we hide in the morning; 
 Mortal, we whifper it thee. 
 
 Where do ye hide in the morning ? 
 Sunfhine and light breezes fcorning : 
 Where do ye hide in the morning ? 
 Fairies, oh whifper to me !
 
 112 
 
 Fairy Song. 
 
 Look in the glades, 'neath oaken {hades, 
 Green are our magic rings fpringing ; 
 Dew-pearl'd the grafs, where, as we pafs, 
 
 The bright moon her radiance is flinging. 
 There do we hide in the morning, 
 Sunfhine and light breezes fcorning : 
 There do we hide in the morning ; 
 Mortal, we whifper it thee.
 
 1^3 
 
 TO MY FRIEND. 
 
 I EAR eyes, that, meet them when 
 I may, 
 Beam on me with a friendly ray, 
 Shed (if ye muft) the unfeen tear 
 For lofs and trouble fufFer'd here, 
 But never be lefs kind ! 
 
 Dear voice, that, when my heart is fad. 
 Hath fuch ftrange power to make it glad. 
 Take (if thou muft) a deeper tone. 
 Remembering angels heavenward flown. 
 But never be lefs kind ! 
 
 Dear Friend, who from thy generous heart 
 Doth to mine own fuch wealth impart ; 
 Counfel, reprove, but love me ftill. 
 Forgive, forget my wayward will — 
 But never be lefs kind !
 
 114 
 
 THE CAPTIVE'S HOPE. 
 
 ^p~^HEY brought me flowers — flowers 
 to the captive's cell ! 
 Did it not feem like mockery of 
 woe, 
 
 To call back vifions of that outward world, 
 Whofe bridal beauty I no more might know ? 
 A ray of light athwart the pavement fhone. 
 And lit thofe petals with their thoufand dyes ; 
 They feem'd like friends and meflages from home, 
 I kifs'd and blefs'd them with dim tearful eyes. 
 
 Night came with folcmn hufh — my weary heart, 
 With its deep longings fever'd, own'd its fpell ; 
 A moonbeam quiver'd faintly through the gloom, 
 And fliow'd thofe flowers wither'd, where it fell. 
 Then the wild thought like hope within me rofe, 
 " They die and there is yet rcleafe for me ; 
 My body may for years thefe fetters wear, 
 But death fhall fet my untamed fpirit free ! "
 
 115 
 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH 
 
 OF THE REV. FREDERICK 
 
 W. ROBERTSON. 
 
 (Ob. Aug. 16, 1853.) 
 
 OD will not chide our human tears 
 Becaufe his early death appears 
 A grief to laft thro' coming years. 
 
 There was the brightnefs in his eye 
 Of one who felt his home was nigh, 
 Nor fear'd to live, nor fear'd to die. 
 
 A glance, from earth-mifts purified, 
 By gazing on the love, world-wide, 
 In and by which our fouls abide : 
 
 A lofty forehead, genius-fraught, 
 Fit portal to the brain fine wrought, 
 The temple of all holy thought :
 
 ii6 Anniversary of the Death of 
 
 Thick cluftering waves of foft brown hair, 
 Which yet a carelefs grace did wear, 
 Shading the outline here and there : 
 
 A cheek that flufli'd too bright a red 
 For health, by too quick pulfes fed — 
 Too foon with palenefs overfpread : 
 
 Clear eyes, deep fet, with earned: look 
 That pride and falfehood could not brook. 
 Which of the man true meafure took: 
 
 Eyes that gave back all feelings pure, 
 Pledge that the foul within was fure. 
 And would unto the end endure : 
 
 Lips, in whofe eafy flexile play 
 
 A world of hidden meaning lay ; 
 
 A fmile that cheer'd like dawn of day ; 
 
 A form eredt though frail and flight. 
 Of manly, yet of graceful height, 
 A flep elaftic, firm, and light : 
 
 A countenance that could exprefs 
 The utmoft depths of tendernefs 
 That breaking hearts did ever blefs :
 
 Rev. F. W. Robertson. 117 
 
 But yet indignantly fevere 
 
 When he of might 'gainft right did hear, 
 
 Or weak ones led to fin through fear : 
 
 A voice whofe cadence rofe and fell 
 With fomething of a charmed fpell, 
 When eloquent of heav'n to tell ; 
 
 As though fome glimpfes he had caught 
 Of that *' unfeen" which pafTeth thought, 
 And to unveil its glories fought : 
 
 With fluttering breath that went and came, 
 As wax'd or wan'd the fpirit flame 
 Which glow'd in that weak human frame. 
 
 And when in his accuftom'd place 
 He bow'd his head a little fpace. 
 There fell ftrange luftre on his face. 
 
 Amply the fable folds did fall 
 
 Around him, as he fronted all 
 
 With dauntlefs mien — that young St. Paul. 
 
 He taught that men as brothers arc. 
 Who gather to one home afar, 
 From fouthern fkies or northern ftar.
 
 ii8 Anniversary of the Death of 
 
 He raif'd the Crofs with fearlefs hand, 
 He pointed to the Better Land, 
 With imprefs of divine command. 
 
 He bade us lofe the world, and win. 
 By cafting out each cherifh'd fin, 
 God's life our fecret fouls within. 
 
 So might we houfe a gentle guefl:. 
 The Comforter, in our lone breaft, 
 And feel ev'n here the perfecSt reft 
 
 Which follows when our will has paft 
 
 Into our Father's will at laft — 
 
 A Heav'n whofe calm is ne'er o'ercaft. 
 
 # « # « « 
 
 I faw the Funeral wind along, 
 Clofe follow'd by a gathering throng, 
 One in a grief fubdued, but ftrong. 
 
 And women's tears fell faft as rain, 
 And rough men fhoolc with inward pain 
 For him they ne'er fhould fee again.
 
 Rev. F. W. Robertson. ik 
 
 And Rich and Poor that folemn day, 
 As with one impulfe feem'd to pray, 
 Thus met, Love's laft refpeil to pay. 
 
 Reft now beneath the quiet earth. 
 Thou noble heart of golden worth, 
 Until thy glorious new birth ! 
 
 But if a human thrill can move 
 
 Thy foul's ferenity above, 
 
 'Twill be the fight of fo much love ; 
 
 Love won by that ftrange power that lies 
 In Chrift's fublime felf-facrifice 
 Liv'd out again before our eyes 
 
 In thee — the martyr early tried. 
 
 Who lov'd and fuffer'd, toil'd and died, 
 
 Whofe thirft for truth is fatisfied ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 cHiswicK press: — printed by c. vvhittingham, tooks 
 
 COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
 
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