BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
.-- 
 
PATCHWORK POEMS, 
 
 ANTEDILUVIAN KHYMES. 
 
LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY C. H. CLARKE, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
PATCHWORK POEMS, 
 
 AND 
 
 ANTEDILUVIAN RHYMES. 
 
 JANE VAUGHAN PINKNEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SIR ARTHUR BOUVBRIE," "THE YOUNG DOCTOR,' 
 "THE WILFUL WARD," ETC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHARLES H. CLARKE, 48, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 M.DCCC.LV. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH ... .... 1 
 
 HAMPDEN .... 6 
 
 THE LAY OP THE LONELY STUDENT . .... 29 
 
 SAPPHO'S LAST SONG * 33 
 
 THE PHYSICIAN .... 39 
 
 ONE LIFE ONE GRIEF 46 
 
 THE DELUGE 59 
 
 CAIN AND SATAN .... 84 
 
 018 
 
POEMS. 
 

 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY A FRIEND AT THE TIME OK 
 HIS EXECUTION. 
 
 HATH he stepp'd upon the scaffold ? 
 
 Once he stood beside a throne, 
 Where the brightest and the bravest 
 
 With no truer glory shone. 
 
 He is old, and he is weary 
 
 False his foes, and few his friends ; 
 
 Yet, undaunted in the struggle, 
 His bold spirit never bends. 
 
 He has battled with the scholars, 
 With a strength as learn 'd as theirs, 
 
 And, still patient, true, and loyal, 
 Did he trample down their snares. 
 
 He has sail'd upon the tropics ; 
 
 He has compass'd earth and sea 
 With his brave, bold, master-spirit, 
 
 Still so loyal and so free ! 
 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 Three times failing still returning 
 To the day-dream of his heart 
 
 He'd have peopled fair Guiana, 
 And have baffled Spanish art. 
 
 But he trusted to a monarch 
 In the toils of treach'rous Spain, 
 
 And thus stands in bitter sorrow, 
 Captive to his foes again. 
 
 He has seen his first and dearest, 
 Like a fair fruit struck too soon, 
 
 Fall beneath a "Western Heaven 
 
 Ere his youth had reached its noon. 
 
 And he wept, in sickness sorrow'd, 
 O'er his boy's far-distant grave ; 
 
 Then came back to death, attainder, 
 From that fatal Western wave. 
 
 Like the ancient's hair-held weapon, 
 While that woe his great heart wrung, 
 
 O'er his head, throughout the voyage, 
 Unrepeal'd, his sentence hung. 
 
 Walter Raleigh !- scorn the monarch 
 Who can strike a subject low 
 
 With the craft of Dionysius 
 With a felon's secret blow! 
 
 Dost remember, good Prince Henry 
 
 Late the idol of his age 
 Said " that no man, save his father, 
 
 Would keep such a bird in cage ? " 
 
 Like the eagle, in the keenness 
 Of his sight o'er things that be ; 
 
 Like the falcon, in his boldness ! 
 Neighbour, such a bird is he ! 
 
SIK WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 Thirteen years they tried his spirit 
 
 But all vainly to lay low ! 
 Cecil, bitter was the sentence 
 
 Of thine hatred's secret glow! 
 
 Thirteen years ! And then they gave him 
 One faint glimpse of Freedom's sky ; 
 
 But to make his end more bitter 
 Ere they led him forth to die. 
 
 Hush ! he speaks ! Good friend, draw nearer ; 
 
 Not a word of his should fall, 
 As a worthless gift, unheeded ; 
 
 For he speaks unto us all. 
 
 Hark ! he says it is through weakness 
 
 Of a sickness dire and long 
 That his voice comes not as usual, 
 
 Firm, unfaltering, and strong. 
 
 I believe thee, Walter Raleigh ! 
 
 For thine eye is brave and bright ; 
 But deep shame be on the caitiffs 
 
 Who reduced thee to this plight. 
 
 Hold ! he swears he is no traitor 
 
 To his country, or his king ! 
 Then thy blood, unjustly doom'd one, 
 
 To thy foes shall sorrow bring. 
 
 Ha ! he speaks of God of Essex ! 
 
 Ealeigh ! speak of him again ! 
 That lone blot upon thine honour 
 
 Oft hath wrung my heart with pain. 
 
 Thou art passing to a judgment 
 Far more just and far more pure 
 
 Than the bought-up one of scoundrels, 
 Who have made Death's sentence sure. 
 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 With a lie to face thy Saviour, 
 
 Wilt thou go from hence ? wilt die ? 
 
 No ! 'twas false ! his life's past honour 
 Raleigh never could belie ! 
 
 And he had no hand for treason, 
 
 Or for base and lynx-like guile, 
 Towards friend, or foe, or monarch 
 
 Walter Raleigh, I could smile! 
 
 I could smile, though thou art dying ; 
 
 Though my tears are falling fast ; 
 These, thy words, in thy last death-pangs, 
 
 England must believe at last. 
 
 Hush ! in breathless silence standing 
 
 Crowds in wonder on him gaze ; 
 For a voiceless pray'r he's praying 
 
 Ere the headsman ends his days. 
 
 Up he rises, calmly smiling, 
 
 As the glittering axe draws near ; 
 On the block his head he's laying, 
 
 With no single sign of fear ! 
 
 See ! for not a muscle quivers 
 
 Yet our hearts beat fast and high. 
 God ! most bitter is this picture 
 
 Of a true man doom'd to die ! 
 
 Headsman, dost thou shake and tremble ? 
 
 Raleigh speaks to him again. 
 
 " Quick! what dost thou fear? now, strike, man!" 
 And the head and trunk are twain. 
 
 And there is the head, all gory 
 
 Ha ! that I such sight should see ! 
 Loyal subject, valiant warrior, 
 
 Friend, and wisest statesman, he. 
 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
 
 Falls the blood yet, wildly gushing 
 From the pain'd and quiv'ring frame ; 
 
 Neighbour, take me from the scaffold 
 Ere I curse our monarch's name. 
 
 Shame and scorn cling to the monarch 
 Who could track a man to death 
 
 Calmly, patiently, with falsehood 
 Sure as bloodhound after breath ! 
 
 James of Scotland art a Stuart ? 
 
 They were brave as they were bold ; 
 But, thou minion of thy minions ! 
 
 Whence could come thy spirit's mould ? 
 
 Out upon thee ! Were Spain's Indies 
 
 Even offer'd thee instead, 
 They'd be poor blood-price to barter 
 
 For a loyal subject's head. 
 
 But I know for Spain's Infanta 
 
 Thou hast shed yon blood that flows ; 
 
 And, by Heav'n ! in stern rebellion 
 My now anger'd spirit glows, 
 
 James of Scotland ! shame be on thee 
 Widow'd wife and orphan pine. 
 
 Blood thou shed'st then blood be on thee ! 
 It shall cling to thee and thine. 
 
 While, in after years, old England 
 Scorning thee, this deed shall view ; 
 
 But shall know thee, Walter Ealeigh, 
 For a brave man and a true ! 
 
HAMPDEN. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 ONE matchless name there liveth, immortal be its fame ! 
 In England's glorious annals, unscathed by word of blame ; 
 A sun of spotless splendour, whose light seems half divine, 
 Since friend, and foe reluctant, both in its praise combine. 
 No censure yet hath fasten'd one stigma or one shame 
 Upon th' unsullied honours that shine round Hampden's 
 name ! 
 
 Those honours speak the statesman, the patriot, if that 
 
 word 
 
 May designate still fairly a man of fame unslurr'd ! 
 Of bold yet patient wisdom, of spirit high and brave, 
 Whose firmness never falter'd when passing to the grave 
 Though, to the Eternal pleading, the justness of that 
 
 might, 
 Which, though its sword was sheathless, unsheath'd it for 
 
 the Eight ! 
 
 The Patriot, if such term will paint that depth of honest 
 
 worth 
 Which, self-enchained by Virtue, yields to the just of 
 
 earth ; 
 
 One whose home knew a master, of firm and loving sway, 
 That brought fair Love's sweet presence to dwell there 
 
 day by day ; 
 
 Who bargain'd not that conscience, one-sided praise to win, 
 Should public deeds of glory make cover private sin. 
 
HAMPDEN. 7 
 
 A patriot, yet loyal, till loyalty became 
 
 The tool of kingly power, and passiveness a shame ; 
 
 Till his free soul pronounced it, through peril and through 
 
 scathe, 
 
 False service to his country, betrayal to his faith ; 
 Till England, waking England, had chafed beneath the 
 
 chain 
 Past foes had dared to structure, but none had dared to 
 
 strain. 
 
 They knew the lion's fierceness, and soothed him down to 
 
 rest, 
 
 Till weariness had ravish'd the rich spoil from his breast ; 
 Before his growl they backen'd, to let long slumbers heal 
 The gall-spots that their shackles, when shaken, made him 
 
 feel; 
 They knew the lion's fierceness came one who knew 
 
 it not ! 
 Till hfc strong gripe had sever'd each fetter's Gordian 
 
 knot! 
 
 Sad trouble dwelt in England aye! trouble sore and 
 
 deep ! 
 
 But Freedom woke beneath it, to wonder and to weep ; 
 Awed down or bribed to silence, for years her voice had 
 
 seem'd, 
 
 Her spirit steeped in slumber, till, as she slept, she dream'd. 
 She dream'd that some were rending the life-blood from 
 
 her heart, 
 While, lost in idle stupor, she play'd the sluggard's part. 
 
 She dream'd that she was resting in idleness and peace, 
 Though warnings of close danger bade her supineness cease ; 
 Till came a fair-faced traitor, who bound her in a snare, 
 While preach'd a band of Churchmen, submission as her 
 share. 
 
8 HAMPDEN. 
 
 She woke and she felt fetter'd, more strongly than before, 
 She woke ! with starts convulsive, and slept and dreamt no 
 more. 
 
 At first she spoke with patience, beshackled though she 
 
 trod, 
 For wisdom's strength was with her a wisdom born 
 
 of God ; 
 And humbly still, but firmly, the bonds that griev'd her 
 
 heart, 
 
 She prayed her Eoyal Masted might one by one depart ; 
 Her rights be yielded freely, the princely gifts of love, 
 Not won by iron courage, red slaughter's field above. 
 
 But patience pleaded vainly then, then resistance woke 
 In giant strength within her ; more bitterly she spoke : 
 " A true man's word yield to me, no fetters shall again 
 By stratagem or brute force bring son of mine to pain ; 
 And I will guard thy sceptre, thy children shall be"mine, 
 Else shall my heart's defiance strike openly at thine ! 
 
 "If kings be God-like powers, build thou a God-like 
 
 throne, 
 
 And be its pillars strengthened by Freedom's hand alone. 
 Yield back to me those treasures past monarchs from me 
 
 reft, 
 Well, well they knew my spirit, and won them but by 
 
 theft. 
 Thus said the specious traitors ' Thou hast nor wealth 
 
 nor peace, 
 Thou 'rt sick with turmoil would'st thou wear gentle yoke, 
 
 'twould cease.' 
 
 " They plac'd their yoke upon me, then spoil'd me at their 
 
 will, 
 But with fair show of urgence, and soothing speeches still. 
 
HAMPDEN. 9 
 
 But now my strength returning, like Sampson's strength 
 
 of yore, 
 
 The bonds that curb my spirit I will endure no more. 
 Mark ! how my children listen, and feel my pleading just, 
 Grant thou the rights God gave them like them, thou 'rt 
 
 framed of dust. 
 
 " King though thou art, thy spirit, a mould like theirs 
 
 must wear 
 
 Must see the yoke a false one, my once free vot'ries bear. 
 They know me thou must know me though friends may 
 
 idly plead ; 
 Thy youth's past teaching leaves not a knowledge of my 
 
 creed. 
 Lie on, ye vain deceivers, till slave-yokes round ye 
 
 cling ! 
 My truths can reach the peasant if listened to, the king. 
 
 " I tell thee, thou must know me then free me from my 
 
 chain, 
 
 For, by the God both worship, 1 will not ask in vain ! 
 As guard to men He gave me, against the powers unjust, 
 Assumed in God-like mock'ry by crown'd worms of the 
 
 dust. 
 Off with my chains, proud monarch ! mine hour of 
 
 triumph's nigh ! " 
 But if the monarch listen'd, he listen'd to deny. 
 
 A hated tax was levied, illegal and unjust ; 
 
 It struck the rights of freemen, and ground them to the 
 
 dust. 
 
 The throne's despotic power attain'd a self-willed height, 
 And sought not in the people the JEgis of its might. 
 Men murmur'd, as they murmur when wrath hath wedded 
 
 grief, 
 Though yet they strive for patience, and only pray relief. 
 
10 HAMPDEN. 
 
 And rightly wise such patience ! Soon one of them stood 
 
 forth 
 
 Of lofty soul, firm purpose a man of wealth and worth. 
 Against the Grown he pleaded the justness of their cause, 
 And risked his home, his riches, to test their fathers' laws. 
 To test, if framed they had been by freemen or by slaves, 
 And know if curse or blessing should linger round their 
 
 graves. 
 
 Few shillings had been rated his portion of the tax, 
 Some deem'd,. may be, that iron was flexible as wax 
 That if but an impression were gently forced thereon, 
 It would not blunt the weapon wherewith the deed was 
 
 done. 
 The blind ones had not follow'd the keen eye that had 
 
 scann'd 
 The peril of the storm-cloud then gliding o'er the land! 
 
 That eye had read the future, and knew those shillings 
 
 were 
 
 Dark slav'ry's slow beginnings the first-fruits of a snare ! 
 That if the hand their payment, without a protest, made, 
 It crippled all the measures for Freedom's future aid 
 Sign'd bond, the kingly power, had legally been used, 
 And never-slumb'ring conscience, God's brightest gift, 
 
 abused. 
 
 The Crown, the crown- awed judges pronounced, the suit 
 
 had won, 
 
 And crouching jackals augur'd the noble prey undone ; 
 But though the ermine truckled to wrong against the right, 
 They could not blind the people by such use of their 
 
 might. 
 
 A day of juster reck'ning that people hoped to see, 
 And swarm'd their thanks round Hampden, though lost 
 
 the cause had he. 
 
HAMPDEN. 1 1 
 
 Upon the rights of freemen a lesson had been taught 
 
 As cogent to the purpose as wisdom ever wrought ; 
 
 " Slaves we are not," men murmur'd, " by bond, or law, or 
 
 will, 
 
 True freemen were our fathers, and we will be so still ! " 
 Hail to the noble Hampden ! for this one deed alone 
 We rank thine heart the truest that e'er opposed a throne. 
 
 Hail to the noble Hampden! who braved a monarch's 
 
 might, 
 
 While hush'd the nation's senate in powerless affright ! 
 From that one deed men felt him the patriot's Polar star, 
 That Freedom's gallant vessel, though storm-track'd, led 
 
 afar 
 
 To havens of sure safety, while raging billows cast 
 Their thund'ring strength around her, to sink her as she 
 
 pass'd. 
 
 And could that strong mind falter, when climbing Free- 
 dom's height 
 
 While scaling the vast future that open'd on its sight ? 
 And could that firm soul purpose from English soil to roam, 
 And seek beyond the ocean a free, but exile, home ? 
 'Twas not for thee, the fearless, to flee a traitor's blow 
 'Twas not for thee, thou just one, to shun thine England's 
 woe. 
 
 Two kinsmen near a river were gazing on its shore 
 
 As sadly glance grieved mourners on one who breathes no 
 
 more ; 
 
 Kinsmen they were in spirit kinsmen they were in blood, 
 And kinsmen in the purpose which brought them where 
 
 they stood 
 Save one was just and patient, in deed, in word, in 
 
 thought ; 
 A daring crime the other to Power's summit brought. 
 
12 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Right bitter were their musings ; right bitter was the sight 
 Of the lov'd land of childhood on that their eve of flight ; 
 They gazed upon it sadly ; would their stern eyes have 
 
 wept, 
 Tears had express'd the yearnings that o'er their bruised 
 
 hearts swept 
 
 For they had vow'd to leave it, no more its soil to tread 
 To leave the loved, the loving, the living, and the dead ! 
 
 But stern, and true in purpose, no tear gleam'd in their 
 
 eyes, 
 And their closed lips' firm outlines kept back the rising 
 
 While murmur'd their proud spirits "Thy strength is 
 spent and gone, 
 
 To thy dark fate we leave thee lost England, thou 'rt un- 
 done !" 
 
 Undone ! Not so, brave Hampden ! Back, back, for thine 
 own fame ! 
 
 She yearns she burns for Freedom and bows but in 
 deep shame ! 
 
 Hark ! how her answer seeketh the heart which shuns 
 
 her woe 
 " What though mine arm be weaken'd ? The stronger thine 
 
 should grow. 
 Dost thou but aid the helpless, and back her 'gainst the 
 
 strong, 
 Until her strength grows feeble, then leave her to her 
 
 wrong ? 
 Bethink thee, for thine honour, and shield thy mother's 
 
 breast, 
 Until thine efforts win her bright Freedom's holy rest. 
 
 " What though a despot's fetters still clank upon my soil ! 
 Though faint awhile my spirit beneath its heavy toil ! 
 
HAMPDEN. 13 
 
 I am thy youth's fond mother I rear'd in thee the fears 
 That wrought through the past's day-dreams the faith of 
 
 manhood's years. 
 
 Of all my sons, the noblest, thou would'st my sorrow shun, 
 But can misfortune sever the mother from the son ? 
 
 " Have not my fair skies taught thee, when sun or moon 
 
 above 
 
 Shone in their summer splendour, God's holiness and love ? 
 Have not my blasts in winter re-echoed freedom's tone 
 When in the tempest's struggles^ aloose .their reins, were 
 
 thrown ? ^ . 
 
 And on my bosom sleepeth the loved one of thine heart 
 Ha ! canst thou tremble, stern one, from the lone dead to 
 
 part? 
 
 tl In the far home thou seekest her ashes will not lie ; 
 Beside her tomb the breezes shall never bear thy sigh ! 
 If, when the twilight cometh, her soul-felt presence seek 
 To wake in thee remembrance of the once love 'twould speak, 
 How can thy grieved heart token that thou rememb'rest still, 
 When from the past thou 'rt sever'd by thy warp'd strength 
 of will? 
 
 " The home that once was hallow'd by holy love's pure light 
 Must live in mem'ry only shall never meet thy sight ! 
 There, where thy young bride falter'd her love vows by 
 thy side [died 
 
 There, where still loved, still cherish'd, in after years she 
 There, where thy tears have fallen upon her clay-cold brow, 
 A stranger's step shall wander aye! dost thou tremble now? 
 
 " No ! by the light of heaven ! 'twas but a passing weight 
 Of sharp and bitter sorrow that on thy stern brow sate ; 
 O'er thy firm spirit faileth the strongest ties of love, 
 The eagle will not linger to mourn as mourns the dove ! 
 
14 HAMPDEN. 
 
 But firm through all he holdeth his strength of stately 
 
 might, 
 And, while the struck heart withers, still speedeth on his 
 
 flight. 
 
 " The past hath no claims on thee ; then hear the future 
 
 And would its words might colour with shame that 
 
 pallid cheek ! 
 
 That shame so great, so noble, which kingly spirits know, 
 When the heart feels past errors, stab sharp as steel of 
 
 foe. 
 Go where thy spirit leadeth, go where thy steps may 
 
 roam, 
 Far from my sighs for freedom hence ! to thy distant 
 
 home ! 
 
 " Hence, where thy spirit leadeth ! Bear thou no curb, 
 
 no rein, 
 
 While thine own England groaneth under a yoke of pain ! 
 Thou who would'st judge the senate, thou who would'st 
 
 stay its ire, 
 
 Let an unbridled license crush out its purer fire ; 
 Thou who could teach the people Freedom's fair heights of 
 
 thought, 
 Yield to a despot's anger those whom thy wisdom taught. 
 
 " Say that thy power is falling ; say that within thyself 
 Dwelleth no mighty genius, dwelleth no moral wealth. 
 Say, that God made a being furnish'd with wondrous 
 
 power, 
 But the just knowledge gave not such had been his soul's 
 
 dower. 
 Say though he led and govern'd many who else had 
 
 err'd, 
 Never their minds' direction he as his own averr'd. 
 
HAMPDEN. 15 
 
 " Yield to fanatic brethren, frantic with selfish faith, 
 Guidance of that fair vessel, patience might free from 
 
 scathe ; 
 Yield up the power God gave thee gave thee to hold, 
 
 defend, 
 Strive that thy blindfold purpose make thy God's purpose 
 
 bend. 
 
 But may the curse of England cling to the breach of trust, 
 And thy proud heart beneath it writhe into crumbled dust ! 
 
 "Hath not the land thou seekest, children yet born the free ? 
 Do they not keep the doctrines loved both by them and thee? 
 Sever'd of yore from England, Freedom's then flickering 
 
 light, 
 Hence did they bear and nourish through their long storm- 
 
 track'd flight. 
 
 Faint was its strength that lingered, weak was its highest aim, 
 Strife of the slightest, may be, swiftly had quench'd its flame. 
 
 " Right were those sons of Freedom, then, to forsake my soil, 
 Narrow had been my musings, narrower still my toil. 
 Now when my heart from thraldom yearns to be known 
 
 the free. 
 Lamed though I seem from weakness, traitors are those 
 
 who flee ! 
 
 Thou, who art self-denying, thou, who all things can dare, 
 What, in my present peril, shunneth thy soul to share ? 
 
 " Well doth thine England know thee knoweth thou canst 
 
 not fear, 
 Say, then, what purpose grapples with thine own England's 
 
 pray'r ? 
 
 Is it thy faith's pure worship ? Idly thy fears awake ! 
 Idly thy home and kindred dost thou for God forsake. 
 Pause ere thou yet decidest render not up as yet 
 Weight of the pow'r He gave thee, lest thou one day regret 
 
16 
 
 HAMPDEN. 
 
 " What ! is thy soul still stubborn ? Shepherd then leaves 
 
 the fold, 
 Perhaps because told 'tis worthless ? Credits he, all he's 
 
 told? 
 
 Judges he things by seemings ? Thinks he God's spirit lies 
 With the blind recreant flying trust a true man should 
 
 prize ? 
 
 Back to thy toil of danger ; and, with thy patient might, 
 Force Freedom's recognition from a false throne, as a right. 
 
 " What ! is thy mind still wav'ring ? Doubter, behold ! 
 
 thy will 
 Not to thy post shall keep thee, though thou shalt guard 
 
 it still. 
 
 Fate, our God's chosen purpose, worketh to fix thee there. 
 Look to it ! He proclaimeth, Thou in my woe must share. 
 Hear'st thou the monarch's mandate ? Lo ! thou art still 
 
 a slave 
 Bound to the soil, though freedom yet shall redeem thy 
 
 grave." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 " Ho ! Privilege ! Privilege !" the anger'd people cry. 
 
 " The sacred rights of Parliament, for them we'll live and 
 
 die !" 
 
 Ho ! privilege ! privilege ! the leaders of the House, 
 The king he thought to trap them, as mouser after mouse ! 
 Such small game did he deem them ? Ha ! gnawing at 
 
 the net, 
 With sure and steady patience, they'll free the Lion yet. 
 
 Well was it, as he mutter'd, the birds had flown the nest. 
 We wot the birds but sharply had relish'd his keen jest. 
 
HAMPDEN. 17 
 
 What ! from the tree of freedom, so far his hatred spread, 
 Content not with the branches, he would have lopp'd the 
 
 head. 
 He could not! yet 'twas bondless too hardy was the 
 
 stripe 
 He put the sickle to the corn before the corn was ripe! 
 
 He should have waited longer, and yet again have feign'd 
 . A mien of gentle bearing till he our trust had gain'd ; 
 That trust had soon been given our faith was yielding 
 
 fast 
 
 Before the falling sceptre we deem'd too weak at last : 
 He might have play'd the traitor, when weaponless our 
 
 hand ; 
 But him God surely blinded to save our fathers' land ! 
 
 He would have waited longer had he thought us thus 
 strong 
 
 And farther would ye trust him ? weak dreamers ! for how 
 long? 
 
 Quick, to your tents, O Israel ! the Lord's anointed he 
 
 But who the Lord's anointed o'er God's own flock should 
 be? 
 
 Is 't he who their just freedom with juggling hath dis- 
 own'd? 
 
 When Saul misruled in Scripture, say, was he not de- 
 throned ? 
 
 The King hath fled the palace! the crown hath fallen 
 
 low! 
 
 His cavaliers, where whet they their trusty rapiers now ? 
 With perfumed tresses, doubtless, they gather round their 
 
 chief; 
 
 Gallants so gay yon vessel would deem a sight of grief 
 In chase of pleasure zealots, no zealot martyrs they 
 Else silken hose and doublet we had seen here to-day ! 
 
 c 
 
18 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! the distant shouting increases in its strength, 
 And crowds of eager people fill up the river's length. 
 See where yon gallant vessel is proudly gliding on 
 Eight well its noble burden, this glorious triumph won ! 
 The tumult musters bravely ! old England's pulse, that beat 
 Erst but in quicken'd warning, now leaps to fever heat. 
 
 Behold ! it nears the Palace, and of the freight it bears 
 Its port hath seeming knowledge, and bolder aspect wears 
 Shout, shout for those who suffer'd, who fought for Eng- 
 land's right 
 For Hampden, Hollis, Haselrig, Pym, Strode, your cheers 
 
 unite ! 
 Not all the King's endeavours those brave men could 
 
 abase 
 Now have their sturdy footsteps retrod the wonted place ! 
 
 Then raise the madden'd people aloft their thunder-cry, 
 And rush towards the Houses, and pass the Palace by 
 With shouted curses pass it, that echo round its walls 
 Like the loud voice of thunder, when Heaven's fire-bolt falls ; 
 While oft as weaken'd structures their sev'rance blow 
 
 sustain, 
 That cry of vengeance striketh the crown and realm in 
 
 twain. 
 
 On to the sitting Houses incensed the people throng, 
 And watch their idols' triumph the triumph of the 
 
 strong ; 
 The strong, whose strength lay dormant, and ofttimes 
 
 suffer'd much, 
 Till, by a sharp wound startled, applied with skill-less 
 
 touch, 
 They arm'd themselves in anger to maim th' aggressor's 
 
 hand, 
 And limit ever henceforth his power arid command. 
 
IIAMI'DEN. 19 
 
 But in what spirit trod they the Senate-house again, 
 Those idols of the people, those keen, far-sighted men ? 
 With the same rigid patience ? No, once the thoughts 
 
 inferred 
 
 In words of quiet warning, in plain bold speech are heard ; 
 Already through their soul-depths war's clanging summons 
 
 ring; 
 Sharp measures urge the members for who would trust 
 
 the King? 
 
 And Freedom's mien grew bolder the people's heart she 
 
 read 
 
 And with a stately bearing she raised her drooping head ; 
 The sword once shunn'd she lifted in clarion voice her 
 
 name 
 She shouted unto thousands, and flush'd their cheeks with 
 
 shame ; 
 
 Until like her, right slowly, when every chance had fled 
 Of gentler mediation, war's challenge-word they said. 
 
 Then raised were England's banners : albeit in civil strife, 
 Still glory dwelt upon them, though sorrow, too, was rife ; 
 For son against the father, and brother 'gainst the like, 
 Oft, from a sense of duty, on different sides would strike. 
 I ween brave hearts had struggles as much with thought as 
 
 steel, 
 And perhaps the mental combat the sharpest one would 
 
 feel! 
 
 And how, amidst these tumults, brave Hampden, how 
 
 chang'd he ? 
 
 As with an iceblast changeth a sunlit summer sea, 
 Whose depths of crystal clearness their glorious beauty 
 
 keep, 
 While free and flowing waters beneath the frost's crust 
 
 sweep, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Though the surface hardens slowly till the winter cold is 
 
 o'er 
 So changed in outward seeming his spirit from of yore. 
 
 For Hampden's mind straightforward attain'd the distant 
 
 goal 
 That others only dream'd of, but fear'd with heart and 
 
 soul. 
 When weakly Charles had broken, ev'n as the meanest 
 
 thing 
 That ne'er had heard of honour, the pledg'd word of a 
 
 king, 
 Past depths of doubt he shrank not with steady step to 
 
 ford, 
 " And threw away the scabbard when once he drew the 
 
 sword." 
 
 * 
 
 Prompt counsel hardy measures in them his wisdom 
 
 dealt ; 
 He knew the end would prove them the surest mercies 
 
 felt. 
 
 If probed a wound but lamely, 'twill need the probe again ; 
 True skill probes firmly ever, and shorter is the pain. 
 He gave them warrior's wisdom, he shrank not from his 
 
 part 
 " God with us !" bore his banner, God with us ! pray'd his 
 
 heart. 
 
 Where Rupert's horse are flying across th' ensanguined 
 
 field, 
 And where the Roundheads, yielding, are striving not to 
 
 yield, 
 
 A wounded horseman moveth ; he moveth as in pain, 
 And turneth from the battle his courser's bridle-rein ; 
 While as each step that rider yet wills the steed to take, 
 With thrills of inward suff'ring the quiv'ring muscles ache. 
 
UAMPDEN. 21 
 
 At the first charge that figure led on the foremost horse, 
 With movements as impetuous as fiery Rupert's course ; 
 His look was stern and noble, his bearing firm and high, 
 And glances keen and skilful shot from his -watchful eye. 
 On to the point of danger his way he straightly bent 
 Never was spot of peril but thither Hampden went ! 
 
 But in the earliest onset some saw him falter back, 
 And, from the battle passing, retrace their former track ; 
 While, missing their lov'd leader, before the advancing 
 
 sway 
 
 Of Rupert's lightning charges, his men at length give way ; 
 Yet with despairing valour dispute the blood-red plain, 
 From whence that horseman moveth, and moveth as in 
 
 pain. 
 
 His head is drooping lowly; the broad breadth of the 
 
 brow 
 The mind's wide volume speaking hath lost its life-glow 
 
 now; 
 
 And the bow'd lash hath fallen across the clear deep eye 
 The soul's strong anguish veiling from casual passers by ; 
 But the pale cheek betrayeth a might of inward pain, 
 That the white lips' sharp quiver reveals to sight again. 
 
 The feeble hands, though striving his charger's course to 
 
 check, 
 
 When the wrong path is taken, lie listless on his neck, 
 Till with one strong endeavour he bends them to his will, 
 And slowly turns the bridle some purpose to fulfil 
 Some purpose that is gleaming within his straining eye, 
 And urges on its glances to a fair spot close by. 
 
 For thither his heart yearneth ; and thither, thither yet, 
 Through all his anguish gather the dreams none e'er 
 forget : 
 
22 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Youth's mem'ries rise around it, a bright and sunny tide ! 
 There woo'd he once a loved one, there won in youth his 
 
 bride ; 
 And his damp brow is colour' d with a faint flush, the 
 
 while 
 Across his features flitteth the dim trace of a smile. 
 
 And thither yet fond yearnings hath bid him turn to die, 
 That still the Past's sweet worship may soothe his last 
 
 faint sigh ; 
 
 For in his spirit knelling, close on his gasps of breath, 
 He hears a hollow whisper that speaks to him of death. 
 He presses forward faster till on the armour bright 
 Of cavalier, of foeman, his shrouded looks alight. 
 
 And then his head droops lower more dimly burns the eye, 
 And from that loved spot turning, he hastens on to die : 
 Once had he bade it farewell, to seek a home afar, 
 Now Fate the boon denies him his dying looks prefer ! 
 Once he forsook fair England, when lab'ring to be free, 
 And now before her triumphs like unripe fruit dies he ! 
 
 Keeps there our God an opening His purpos'd will within, 
 
 Where man may vote of free will at fitting time cast in ? 
 
 Be means direct used by Him to charact'rise in soul 
 
 Of an event the principles, the spiritual whole ? 
 
 And be its earth director, expositor most pure, 
 
 Long as in faith unfalt'ring he feels faith's anchor sure ? 
 
 Aye ! but if his faith falters, and wanders from its track, 
 God stayeth not His purpose the faithless to call back ! 
 For if one tool be brittle, and breaks beneath His hand, 
 May be with divers others He works forth His command. 
 On single soul He leans not to aid His chosen will 
 He, who brings light from chaos, and good from purposed 
 ill ! 
 
HAMPDEN. 23 
 
 Wlio, to the tool that rusteth before allotted toil, 
 
 Oft grants a short-lived period to cleanse itself from soil ; 
 
 Then, in the very moment it rallies all its zeal, 
 
 As its lost lustre brightens, its sudden fate will seal, 
 
 And mar its glorious impress, remove it from its place, 
 
 To work with tools far meaner upon its scarce seen trace. 
 
 Till the task's bright ideal men realised in thought 
 Diverges from the model its keener edge had wrought ; 
 The pure and peerless outlines harsh workmanship refuse, 
 And rough'ning into coarseness, their pristine beauty lose ; 
 And through a clogging chaos of ign'rance, blunted worth, 
 Its one grand outline only is shaped to bitter birth. 
 
 With thee thus was it, Hampden ? By lack of faith alone 
 Were thy wise projects blighted, their zenith flight o'er- 
 
 thrown ! 
 
 Did that one step bereave thee of God's most holy trust ? 
 But Freedom's outlines leave thee to rescue from the 
 
 dust? 
 
 Such spirit- whispers seemeth ev'n now thine heart to hear, 
 Our God he noteth sharply a strong man's faithless fear ! 
 
 A strange inertness shrouded men's minds with seeming 
 sloth, 
 
 And bow'd them to their fetters, despairingly, though loth ; 
 
 So dark the cloud o'er England, so wide its sphere of 
 gloom, 
 
 Thou thought'st it what it was not the pall of Free- 
 dom's tomb ! 
 
 But in it lived the lightning, ere long to burst to birth, 
 
 And shatter down in fragments a false throne to the earth. 
 
 Thou saw'st not in that darkness the swathing-bands of 
 
 light! 
 Didst deem it all too heavy to spread its wings for flight ; 
 
2 4 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Didst turn in bitter sorrow thy steps from England's 
 
 shore ; 
 
 And turning, perhaps, a fair fate then lost for evermore ; 
 Since man works not one action but must its sequence 
 
 bring, 
 Or fate controll'd, but leaves him a secret spirit sting. 
 
 And now in view thou diest of a wild tempest's shock, 
 That of the kingly power will blast the basement rock. 
 Thou wilt not see its triumph when rev'lling at its height, 
 Nor watch if whirlwind sowers the good seed sow aright ; 
 Thou shalt not guide their footsteps above thee they 
 
 shall tread ; 
 Thine hand be loosen'd off them thy home is with the 
 
 dead! 
 
 Soon will the storm's rude spirits more roughly ride 
 
 along, 
 
 And madden into frenzy the weak man and the strong ; 
 Till upon shiftless projects they run themselves aground, 
 And spent in strength, in spirit, anew with chains are 
 
 bound ; 
 Stout hearts shall droop in anguish, brave warriors' eyes 
 
 shed tears, 
 And thousands watch the Future with new and anxious 
 
 fears. 
 
 Soon of the car of Freedom, unrein'd each fiery steed, 
 O'er tumult's quaking quicksands with fiery steps shall 
 
 speed ; 
 Shall breast the rising whirlwind that looms before thee 
 
 now, 
 And, strong in self-taught prowess, its subjects' powers 
 
 shall bow ; 
 
 Till one, with grasp of iron, born of a giant will, 
 Shall on untrue foundations rein their wild footsteps in. 
 
HAMPDEN. 25 
 
 And then the spirit-whisper is still'd in Hampden's breast, 
 
 And his right noble patience hath yielded to unrest. 
 
 He scans his comrades' spirits he knows them all too 
 
 well- 
 Strange tidings of the Future, death's thronging murmurs 
 
 tell! 
 He feels he sees one kinsman will tread to Power's 
 
 height ; 
 And wonders, if he do so, will he tread on aright ? 
 
 And England's fate seems darken'd, and bitter visions 
 
 crowd 
 
 Upon the wounded warrior, by twainfold anguish bow'd ; 
 But grieve not, heart of valour ! Keep strength through 
 
 strong despair ! 
 Pierce, pierce the farther future no darkness lingers 
 
 there ! 
 
 Above yon abyss, closing o'er depths of blood and tears, 
 The throne a shrine for Freedom in sceptred splendour 
 
 rears ! 
 
 On to thy couch of death, then ! Thy meed of glory 's much ! 
 Its sheen shall sparkle ever above corruption's touch. 
 On! For the trust God gave thee, God shall himself 
 
 redeem ; 
 And through yon whirlwind's chaos work forth thy heart's 
 
 pure dream. 
 
 On ! For although thy patience once yielded in the past, 
 Man of the mighty spirit ! long shall thy soul's work last. 
 
 Thine was the voice that signall'd when slav'ry's yoke 
 
 drew near ; 
 Thine was the first bold lesson that taught men shame of 
 
 fear; 
 
 Thine was the master-spirit that shackled down despair 
 By bonds of rigid patience then spurr'd it on to dare. 
 
26 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Thine, therefore, is the glory of the light-creating sun, 
 That clothes a host of planets with the radiance tide of 
 one! 
 
 On to thy couch of death, then ! Thy meed of glory 's 
 much ! 
 
 Its sheen shall sparkle ever above corruption's touch. 
 
 Swift I For the foe 's behind thee ! Unshackled, let thy 
 flight 
 
 Win, 'neath a friendly shelter, the death-couch of to- 
 night. 
 
 Swift ! For although within thee life's springs in death 
 congeal, 
 
 Still must thy dying counsels speak for thine England's 
 weal. 
 
 They watch beside his death-couch; they ponder o'er a 
 brow 
 
 Once bright with wisdom's signmarks, but dark and pallid 
 now; 
 
 They wipe from off that forehead the damp-drops thick 
 and cold, 
 
 And know that mute endurance keeps many a pang un- 
 told ; 
 
 They see pain's shudder passing over each aching limb, 
 
 And hear the strong voice falter, and watch the eye grow 
 dim, 
 
 They hear the strong voice falter, though still in tension 
 
 kept; 
 
 Onwards towards the Future the lab'ring mind hath swept, 
 And with its urgent wisdom, unshaken to the last, 
 Points to the deep'ning shadows projected from the Past ; 
 Points to those weak endeavours that spare a treach'rous 
 
 foe, 
 When bids the voice of Freedom the tyrant's overthrow. 
 
IIAMPDEN. 27 
 
 A stillness in the chamber, a voice of holy pray'r ; 
 
 The church-rites of Old England are humbly murmur'd 
 
 there. 
 The strong man who is dying to God gives God's own 
 
 things ; 
 
 But yields not to the tampering of priests and despot kings. 
 O'er earthly things grows earthly priest-government, we 
 
 wot, 
 The while in heedless canker the spiritual rot. 
 
 A stillness in the chamber the silence of the dead ! 
 Life, wrestling with the spirit, is conquer'd, and hath fled. 
 No soullight on the features, in ling'ring radiance beams ; 
 The eyes' deep mirror only a glass-like mock'ry gleams. 
 The warrior, cold and rigid, lies wrapp'd in death's em- 
 brace, 
 Though the freed soul's past index is seen on his fix'd face. 
 
 Aye ! on those pallid features, the strength of mighty 
 
 thought 
 
 Hath left material traces to speak what once it wrought. 
 To tell, if faintly, truly, of that stupendous whole, 
 The Past yields to the spirit when knells its earthly toll. 
 Soul of the dead! how strongly he on the Eight must 
 
 stand, 
 Who the Eternal faces with a drawn sword in hand ! 
 
 Hush ! O'er deep silence stealing cometh a lofty strain ; 
 And its low measur'd cadence beareth a tone of pain. 
 Not like a woman's wailing rise they those accents deep ; 
 Warriors' the voices thrilling through the still air's soft 
 
 sleep. 
 See ! where with drooping colours, and the low muffled 
 
 drum, 
 Bowing each sun-brown visage, stricken with grief they 
 
 come! 
 
28 HAMPDEN. 
 
 Grief for their fallen leader. Look, as they closely press 
 Where the loved corpse is lying, waiting earth's last address. 
 Well may they mourn thee, Hampden ! Only thine arm 
 
 could stay 
 
 Fitly the deep corruption soon o'er their cause to sway. 
 Hark ! How their words acknowledge his as the purest 
 
 heart 
 That in the waking struggle shone in the foremost part. 
 
 Lord ! If our cause thou judgest and on the earth as yet 
 Never the Right hath battled, but it would deeds regret 
 Seek not from weaker spirits, lured unto sin through 
 
 pride, 
 
 Of our good cause the merits turn thou from such aside ; 
 Seek in this dead man's wisdom all our best hopes, just 
 
 fears 
 God, 'twas thy mercy gave them life in the Past's dark 
 
 years ! 
 
 And though, may be, before thee, Seer of the heart within, 
 Chance times his human wisdom darken'd itself with sin ; 
 Judge we may not our brother tainted, until we see 
 Clearly corruption's plague-spot stain his integrity ; 
 Therefore we yield him to Thee first in our ranks con- 
 
 fess'd. 
 Lord ! if he meets not mercy, who may of earth be bless'd ? 
 
 Therefore we yield him to Thee ; and before thy bright 
 
 throne, 
 
 Now, by thy pow'r encompass'd, boweth his spirit down 
 Strong was the soul thou gav'st him strong was its love 
 
 of right ; 
 Stronger by far the earthquake woke by that stern love's 
 
 might. 
 
 But when the earthquake rolleth it thunder-tide away, 
 Will not the earth be brighter, and holier peace bear sway? 
 
Till. LAY OF THE LONELY STUDENT. 29 
 
 Aye ! For the slave-built fabrics, built on its God-made 
 
 base, 
 Lost in th' engulpliing earthquake, shall to bright scenes 
 
 give place ; 
 
 Over their sunken ruins, Nature her smiling store, 
 Shall, with a spring-time freshness, spread as in days of 
 
 yore; 
 While, 'midst the crash of Powers, rear'd upon unjust 
 
 strength, 
 Freedom man's primal blessing winneth her crown at 
 
 length ! 
 
 THE LAY OF THE LONELY STUDENT. 
 
 ONCE there was a lonely Student, 
 
 And he led a lonely life ; 
 For he had nor father, mother, 
 
 Brother, sister, friend, or wife. 
 
 In a darksome chamber dwelt he ; 
 
 Health was gone, and he was poor ; 
 And no single soul, in friendship, 
 
 Cross'd the threshold of his door. 
 
 Much he read and much he studied ; 
 
 Long he mused, and studied on, 
 Till he lay sick on his pallet, 
 
 And his strength of life was gone. 
 
 Till he felt his end was coming ;. 
 
 For his pulse was faint and weak, 
 And dark bitter thoughts came o'er him, 
 
 And a tear roll'd down his cheek. 
 
30 THE LAY OF THE LONELY STUDENT. 
 
 For Death laid his hand upon him 
 Ere his mind's goal had been won, 
 
 While his thoughts were undevelop'd, 
 And his youth had scarce begun. 
 
 And his works seem'd lost, forgotten ; 
 
 Read they were, and then cast by, 
 Like strange, worthless weeds, unheeded, 
 
 Oft are thrown away to die. 
 
 Yet they were not weak or worthless 
 Virtue's brightest dreams were there ; 
 
 Many, too, had paused some moments 
 O'er their visions bright and fair. 
 
 Though they carelessly forgot them, 
 Though they asked not who was he 
 
 Whose bright thoughts had, spell-like, bound them, 
 For a moment thrillingly. 
 
 So the Student was forgotten, 
 
 And was left alone to die : 
 Still uncared for and unnoticed 
 
 In his lonesome poverty. 
 
 And he lay in his last sickness 
 
 In that lonely chamber drear, 
 Without one kind heart to soothe him, 
 
 Without one true mourner's tear. 
 
 For a moment, o'er his spirit 
 
 Bitter dreams of darkness swept ; 
 And, alone in that deep sorrow, 
 
 Then the dying student wept. 
 
 " I have lived, and toil'd, and sorrow'd 
 
 Vainly for the world," said he, 
 " And my works will be forgotten 
 
 Has it not forgotten me ? " 
 
T1TE LAY OF THE LONELY STUDENT. 31 
 
 Yet they drew my heart's blood from me, 
 And they sapp'd my young life's strength ; 
 
 And the toil that their birth gave me 
 Brings me to the grave at length. 
 
 Still I work'd not for life's riches, 
 
 Nor yet wholly for life's fame ; 
 But I work'd, Oh ! Heavenly Father, 
 
 For the glory of thy name ! 
 
 Yet my toil proves vain and useless, 
 
 Although painfully 'twas wrought ; 
 And I die in deepest sadness, 
 
 And in bitterness of thought. 
 
 Were my years of life, then, wasted 
 
 Vainly o'er the learned page ? 
 Father, what, in death's dark trial, 
 
 Can that anguish'd truth assuage ? 
 
 And he bow'd his head in sorrow ; 
 
 Close his wasted hands were press'd 
 To still down the painful throbbing 
 
 Of his fever'd brow to rest. 
 
 And the silence of that chamber 
 Spoke the presence of stern Death : 
 
 Not a sound was heard within it 
 But the Student's fainting breath. 
 
 Then a whisper, softer, sweeter 
 
 Than a mother's voice of love, 
 Seem'd to murmur to his spirit 
 
 Gentle answer from above. 
 
 " Yes, thy name may be forgotten," 
 
 Soft and silv'ry accents said, 
 " With thy works, long ere the willow 
 
 Waves its spring-bloom o'er the dead. 
 
32 THE LAY OF THE LONELY STUDENT. 
 
 " But the thoughts that thou didst gather 
 
 Never shall forgotten be ; 
 For a thought once read or spoken 
 Circles through eternity. 
 
 "Though unknown, its first life giver, 
 
 It will work its secret spell, 
 Slowly on through coming ages 
 In the minds of men will dwell 
 
 u Till its offspring shall shine brighter 
 
 Than thy spirit dreams or sees, 
 Spreading o'er Thought's glorious regions, 
 Like unfrozen summer seas. 
 
 " For who knoweth Thought's beginnings ? 
 
 As young streamlets, poor and small, 
 Falling from dark, rugged mountains, 
 Yet increasing in their fall ; 
 
 " Flow they on, till, like broad rivers, 
 Sweeping brightly o'er the plains, 
 Bear they many a gallant vessel 
 To the sea where knowledge reigns. 
 
 " May be men see not the springlets, 
 Whence each noble river flows ; 
 But the Father, God, in Heaven, 
 Well their weak beginnings knows ! 
 
 "Well he knows each as the nucleus 
 
 Of dependent scenes of wealth ; 
 Yet the knowledge often keeps He, 
 In His wisdom, to Himself. 
 
 " Yes ! thy thoughts may seem forgotten, 
 
 And thy name to men unknown ; 
 
 But thy thoughts and name are written 
 
 Brightly near the Father's throne. 
 
SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 38 
 
 " Even now they circle slowly 
 
 In some living muser's mind, 
 Thought, if born to speech, is deathless, 
 And no grave on earth may find ! 
 
 " And if thy young life hath wither'd 
 In the strife for Truth's fair light, 
 Mourn thou not, departing spirit, 
 Since it wither'd for the Right ! " 
 
 Then the silvery voice was silent : 
 
 Gently o'er the sick man's face 
 Came a look of placid beauty, 
 
 Came a dim smile's pallid trace, 
 
 Till the gasping breath grew fainter, 
 
 And the Student bow'd his head. 
 Cold lay earth's dust on that pallet 
 
 He was number'd with the dead. 
 
 SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 
 
 DIRGE-LIKE upon the waters a sad song 
 Floated in time to measured music's beat ; 
 
 Faintly awhile, then passionately strong, 
 
 Swell'd the full cadence of those accents sweet. 
 
 Dark was the night Heaven's canopy of blue 
 
 Only the glitt'ring stars in love look'd through. 
 
 Dian's fair face was hidden ; from the sea, 
 
 Garb'd in a gauze-like mist, rose Leucate's rock ; 
 
 And round its base, the wild waves rolling free, 
 Lash'd into breakers, broke with booming shock. 
 
 Thrilling its echoes, with a deep lament ; 
 
 Crouch'd on its peak, a woman's figure bent. 
 
 D 
 
34 SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 
 
 Deep as thy depths, unfathomable, wild ; 
 
 And, in its fond imagery of bliss, 
 Bright as the fancies of the sea-nymph's child 
 
 When waken'd the morning zephyr's kiss ; 
 Whilst on thy bosom slumb'ringly she rests, 
 
 As his soft pinions o'er thy blue waves sweep, 
 Frost with bright silver their sun-sparkling crests, 
 
 Till into show'rs of brilliant foam they leap ; 
 Wild, wild and deep as then her joy must be, 
 Deeper than mortals, for immortal she ! 
 Lived my love-dreams of yore, thou silent sea ! 
 
 But now, sea ! as drear as Chaos' birth, 
 
 Dark as thy wastes when moonless, so those dreams 
 Circle my spirit, sick of this fair earth, 
 
 Sick of my mountain haunt and mountain stream. 
 Soon shall the sun, Hope's emblem, gild thy waves ; 
 
 Anon the night will jewel her fair brow ; 
 Star-bright, sweet smiles that erst kind Dian gave, 
 
 On thy blue depths again in love shall glow. 
 Only for me shall grief all hope destroy, 
 Leaving not one pale shadow of a joy 
 Thought, heart, or soul one moment to employ. 
 
 Yet round my heart, in life's fair blithesome spring, 
 
 Danced glowing hopes of pleasure and of fame, 
 Light as the nutter of yon insect's wing 
 
 That shining to my open casement came. 
 Past, sparkling days of peace and youthful joy, 
 
 Why all so speedy was your onward flight ? 
 Why did the mischief of the Paphian boy 
 
 Your early sun of glorious promise blight ? 
 Bright goddess of the Cestus ! thou, oh ! thou 
 Gavest no beauty to my pallid brow 
 Hast thou no pity for the dowerless now ? 
 
35 
 
 Rest will I seek ; for my sick soul is sad 
 
 And weary to the full of life, of fame ; 
 Brooding o'er grief, till grief nigh turns me mad, 
 
 I scorn the laurel can it hide love's shame ? 
 Shunning the world, and feeling but the scorch 
 
 Of a wild flame, devouring heart and brain ; 
 Phoebus' bright wreath must wither at my touch, 
 
 And even my lyre be strung with chords of pain. 
 With pain ! sweet lyre, it was not always so. 
 Once thy wild singer's triumph thou didst know : 
 Once thou didst thrill to rapt'rous joy's deep glow. 
 
 Yet when I came, and to thee breath'd my love, 
 
 Thy gentle voice would kindred tones express ; 
 Solace most sweet thou yet to me dost prove, 
 
 As I the bitterness of love confess. 
 Love's own soft sighs within thine accents speak, 
 
 Responding to my sad heart's hopes and fears, 
 Whilst I with song the midnight silence break, 
 
 And dull thine golden chords with anguish'd tears. 
 Rising from where I long have restless lain, 
 Dreaming of him I may not see again 
 Dreaming of him with oh ! what bitter pain ! 
 
 Lute ! sweet, sweet lute ! in past times when the voice 
 
 Of the charm'd many hail'd thy voice and mine, 
 Worthy the laurel, fitted to rejoice 
 
 In the first prize of poesy divine, 
 Didst thou, then, think thy mistress would forsake 
 
 The song of triumph for the song of pain ? 
 Past times forget, and for a loved one's sake 
 
 Grieve until madness seized the heart and 'brain ? 
 Dost answer, lute ? Dost bid me break love's snare, 
 Tli at in my heart still nurseth bitter care ? 
 Dost bid me spread pride's balm o'er deep despair ? 
 
 D 2 
 
36 SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 
 
 Lute ! lute ! thou know'st the struggle hath been sore 
 
 To shun the grief-dimm'd dreamings of the past ; 
 Hope flees my heart ; strength, weaken'd to the core, 
 
 No shield of pride before its wounds can cast. 
 Years do not quench their sharp and fever'd throe ; 
 
 With me they dwell, nor ever cease to be ; 
 Broken in heart, I yield me to my woe : 
 
 The archer God had poison'd shafts for me. 
 Like a pale victim, with fair flow'rs crown'd, 
 Feeling its death-pangs rankling in its wound, 
 So my heart bleeds by love's enchantments bound. 
 
 Pallor and darkness of the brow are mine : 
 
 I have no beauty no fair form they see ; 
 Yet hath the Sun-god made my heart his shrine, 
 
 And giv'n a flood of brilliant thought to me. 
 Fiery and glorious as his noonday beams, 
 
 That the world's hidden beauties bring to birth ; 
 So o'er Creation glide my soul's fair dreams, 
 
 And with new glories clothe the face of earth. 
 Yet would I cast his fairest gifts from me, 
 Beauty's sweet smile around my lips to see, 
 That I the loved one of the loved might be. 
 
 Can, then, no charm save beauty gain the heart ? 
 
 Soul ! canst thou not, so full of fire divine, 
 Some ray of kindness to his soul impart, 
 
 And win once more the shelter of its shrine ? 
 No ! thou wild dreamer ! lone must be thy way, 
 
 Bereft of beauty, yet with love inspired ; 
 Home hast thou none in which thy soul to stay, 
 
 And close its wing when weary or world-tired. 
 Love's and the Sun-god's all-consuming power, 
 Heart, soul, and mind, with burning pangs must dower; 
 Lone is thy way till comes death's welcome hour ! 
 
SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 37 
 
 And what if lone ? Of yore, such loneliness 
 
 To Sappho's heart brought not the sense of woe ; 
 None to my soul could kindred thoughts impart 
 
 None bind its dreams to work the heart's o'erthrow. 
 But I met Phaon Gods ! had ye not so will'd I 
 
 Had I but lived still brightly dreaming on, 
 Singing earth's beauties, that with calm joy thrill'd 
 
 That once glad loneliness for ever gone ! 
 Gone, gone for ever ! through love's wild excess 
 Peace would be still my own, and happiness. 
 Gods ! give me back my heart's past loneliness ! 
 
 Give it me back ! The soul that with rich thought, 
 
 Like to my own ye show'd me, loves me not ! 
 Would mine had ne'er its inner riches sought, 
 
 Nor clung unto it like some home-girt spot ! 
 But I I watch'd the glories of that shrine, 
 
 And placed my heart's store on it, as a gift ; 
 No lasting fire, young Phaon, kindled thine : 
 
 Soon mine were spurn'd, thence idly turn'd adrift ! 
 Adrift, adrift ! till back to me they came, 
 Wither'd by his and the world's scornful blame, 
 Filling m y heart with woe, and burning shame. 
 
 Yet once I dream'd that I was lov'd, and felt 
 
 Firm shelter round my spirit, that before, 
 When in its depths the pang of sadness dwelt, 
 
 With its own strength had struggled o'er and o'er. 
 Thankful unto the gods my spirit bow'd 
 
 An earth companion, loved of old, seem'd mine ; 
 He, of the beauteous form, and eyes endow'd 
 
 With the bright glance of Phrebus' light -divine 
 A master-spirit his, that by strong thought 
 Creation's speech before men's dull brains brought : 
 Eajth's thick-veil'd truths to glorious clearness wrought. 
 
38 SAPPHO'S LAST SONG. 
 
 Truth Oh ! thou bitter truth ! away, away ! 
 
 One moment o'er my spirit, ere I die, 
 Let the Unreal with its false joys sway 
 
 One instant hush love's unrequited sigh. 
 Thanks to the gods, he loves me ! Yet once more 
 
 His loved tones echo on my list'ning ear : 
 Fondly, oh ! fondly gentle, as of yore, 
 
 Arouse they hope, and chase away despair. 
 Phaon ! sweet Phaon ! I rewin at last 
 Bliss most supreme, round which life's hopes were cast. 
 Love from the slave hath to th' enslaver pass'd. 
 
 Joy ! Joy divine ! My worn heart is at rest, 
 
 And my soul broodeth o'er a world of bliss. 
 Strong was my love, and bitter was its test ; 
 
 But, joy divine ! can Heaven's dreams equal this ! 
 Elysium ! Elysium ! it is here ! 
 
 I see his dark eyes, smiling on me, shine 
 Begone, thou trembling remnant of a tear ! 
 
 I know his heart beats changelessly for mine. 
 Hark ! from my soul flows love's most rapt'rous strain. 
 Joy ! Joy immortal ! have I dreamt of pain ? 
 Ah, no ! Great Jove ! the Real comes again. 
 
 Phaon, I die ! the fever-plague of love 
 
 Hath marr'd my reason, and my soul consum'd ; 
 Vainly my heart hath striven thy heart to move : 
 
 By thee repulsed, its pale hopes lie entomb'd. 
 But, in the last sad vigil it may keep, 
 
 Still, oh ! thou cold one ! still it throbs for thee. 
 Over my fate, young Phaon, wilt thou weep ? 
 
 No ! tears are for the lovely not for me ! 
 Thou art the glorious many bow before 
 I but the singer of the wild sea-shore, 
 Without one gift save Pho3bus' pois'nous lore. 
 
mi: nnsiciAN. 39 
 
 Farewell, then, life! Farewell, bright sun and flowers! 
 
 No longer will I linger on this earth ; 
 Bitter for me have been the past's sad hours 
 
 Ungladden'd by one single smile of mirth ! 
 Reft of all rest; but thou shalt give me rest 
 
 From all my woe, dark monarch of the shades ! 
 Yonder fair sea shall clasp me on its breast 
 
 Before yon star, the morn's fair herald, fades. 
 Sweet lute ! no more shalt thou my sorrows tell. 
 Calmly I'll rest me, 'neath the blue waves' swell. 
 Sun-god, farewell ! and earthly love, farewell ! 
 
 Sudden, while that song thrill'd, the broken-hearted, 
 Pressing against her breast her golden lute, 
 
 Sprang downwards, and the heaving billows parted 
 Lute, song, and sorrow, evermore were mute ! 
 
 Rest had she found beneath the crested billow ; 
 
 Ne'er had she known such rest on earthly pillow. 
 
 THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 GREY hairs and wasted frame, 
 
 Some little wealth ; 
 A portion large of fame, 
 
 And broken health : 
 Such was the lot of one I met 
 
 Long since in life ; 
 He had nigh eked out this world's debt 
 
 Of care and strife. 
 
 Age premature on his pale brow had traced 
 Dark lines of care, and youth's bright hopes effaced ; 
 And pain and toil seem'd struggling in the eye 
 With loving thoughts and aims, pure, just, and high. 
 
40 THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 On the worn brow I read 
 
 The spirit's toil, 
 And, when I knew him dead, 
 
 The tangled coil 
 Of his past life, that on the track 
 
 Of mem'ry lay, 
 I took, and traced the life-line back 
 
 To his youth's day, 
 
 Until I learnt to love the dead man's name ; 
 And singled from the past bright lists of fame, 
 With names I love our heart's esteem that share 
 Enthroned it, and thank'd God that such men were. 
 
 He came to town a youth 
 
 Calm, kind, and sad ; 
 Some said may be with truth 
 
 A grief he had, 
 His heart's hopes crushing, though that grief 
 
 Lived there unknown ; 
 In word it never found relief, 
 
 In look or tone. 
 
 He came and studied hardly from the first, 
 In silence he strange dreams of bright fame nurst : 
 Toil keeps the heart from sorrow's rust, he thought 
 Aye ! toil for good, but not for what he wrought. 
 
 With calm, unshaken will, 
 
 And patient pride, 
 On fell disease his skill 
 For years was tried , 
 Till death's seeds fasten'd on his frame, 
 
 Broke out at length 
 In a sore sickness' conquering claim, 
 And bow'd his strength 
 

 mi. rinsiciAN. 41 
 
 While Fame fled onward like a mirage view, 
 Though much he learnt, and greatly much he knew, 
 Until he said, " It is an idle thing, 
 This dream of fame, to which my soul doth cling ! 
 
 " Since life for brightest fame 
 
 Is price too high ; 
 A gilded, far-known name 
 
 To hold, to buy 
 Through sharp death-struggles like to mine, 
 
 A fool's work seems ; 
 Wealth given for an empty shrine, 
 
 Or idle dreams. 
 
 The flow'r that blooms and withers in a day, 
 And leaves no seed amidst its quick decay, 
 Is not worth plucking from its distant home : 
 Fame grows no seedlings for the world to come. 
 
 " And this world's wealth of fame 
 
 Is nothing worth ; 
 Perhaps bought by the soul's shame, 
 
 And hard of birth, 
 It fades before the lapse of years, 
 
 And leaves no trace 
 Of the long labours spent to rear 
 
 Its casket place. 
 
 I will not, 'midst life's bankruptcy of hope, 
 Still toil for nought, and to Fame's dreams give scope : 
 Pain's ling'ring hand is weak'ning my strength still, 
 And short time left to work forth my changed will. 
 
 " Yet not in idle sin 
 
 My soul must sleep ; 
 But surer meeds to win 
 Its watch shall keep 
 
42 THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 And Heaven's coin of change shall gain 
 
 On its life's toil, 
 Which may not wittingly again 
 
 Show selfish soil. 
 
 Yes ! in a wiser and more patient guise, 
 My spirit from Fame's restless dreams shall rise, 
 Its motive pow'r declare a purer Guide, 
 And toiling, die for others as He died." 
 
 As that man said, he did ; 
 
 Though his soul's thought, 
 Within his spirit hid, 
 Was only wrought 
 To life in deeds and words of good ; 
 
 Till grew a trace 
 Semblant of the mind's alter'd good 
 
 On that calm face 
 A look of patient kindness, that awhile 
 Oft wore the likeness of a dreamy smile, 
 As if some hope were to his firm soul knit, 
 That nought could from its lov'd home sever it. 
 
 So through this weary life 
 
 He went his way, 
 And battled 'midst its strife 
 
 For many a day ; 
 And Fame came to him Fame and Gold, 
 
 Fair seem'd his lot ; 
 But yet within his heart's stronghold 
 
 Their love was not ! 
 
 Still not their power or worth his lips abused, 
 Gold, Fame, he used as all things should be used 
 To further Virtue's aim o'er Sin and Pride ; 
 They are God's gifts shall God's gifts be decried? 
 
THE PHYSICIAN. 48 
 
 * 
 
 Aye ! Fame and Gold he made 
 
 Supply Love's ends ; 
 With Mammon's things of trade 
 
 Gain'd Virtue friends ; 
 The while to his heart's health complaint 
 
 He gave no heed, 
 Though oft for rest, in yearnings faint, 
 
 It spoke its need. 
 
 And the poor bless'd him, and the sick man said 
 His skill was worth the money that he paid : 
 Beneath God's will, how oft that kind, clear voice 
 Had bade the sick still in life's hopes rejoice ! 
 
 Beneath God's holy will, 
 
 How many a heart, 
 Sooth'd gently by his skill 
 
 In peace would part 
 With its life hopes life anguish bless 
 
 The poor man's friend, 
 In quiet, painless feebleness 
 
 The^ death-strife end ! 
 
 For gold pays not of toil the kind heart's share ; 
 Sharp pain relieved yields back the grateful prayer, 
 That the gold hallows which we give the hand 
 That heals our dolours, under God's command. 
 
 And yet he knew each day, 
 
 With stroke more sure 
 Of life, his strength's decay 
 
 Keft hope of cure. 
 He mused to chide life's grief-pangs back ; 
 
 Then with firm will, 
 
 And heart as true, nor thought more slack, 
 Work'd onward still, 
 
44 THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 And gain'd what gain'd he ? quarter what he ought ? 
 Nay, not a friend knew half the good he wrought ; 
 On earth such merits find no equal meeds 
 Earth pays not interest on man's godlike deeds. 
 
 Within a quiet room 
 Of his own home, 
 Amidst eve's shadowy gloom, 
 
 Did his death come. 
 Worn were life's works; the life- strength worn, 
 
 To its last mite ; 
 The parting soul had reach'd her bourne 
 
 Earth's clay, Death's night. 
 Not sad was he, but patient ; smiles still dwelt 
 On his pale brow throughout the pain he felt : 
 While watch'd an old man near his pillow head, 
 'Till the chill'd clay proclaim'd him with the dead. 
 
 The sick man's father's friend 
 
 He once had been, 
 And wonder'd there to bend 
 
 With aged mien 
 Above the one whom he had lov'd 
 
 As the young boy 
 That through the woodlands wild had rov'd 
 
 With frolic joy. 
 
 Yet there, there lay the boy he once had known, 
 The joyous youth, who liv'd for mirth alone ; 
 The calm, firm man, who woo'd Ambition's pride ; 
 The wiser one, who cast that love aside. 
 
 Aye, there, with toilspent frame 
 
 And slack'ning breath, 
 That whisper'd forth the name 
 
 Of coming death, 
 
THE PHYSICIAN. 45 
 
 The whilst his hand with feeble grasp, 
 
 In life's last day, 
 His kind old friend's still strove to clasp, 
 
 As there he lay, 
 
 Death-doom'd and weary younger far by years 
 Than he who watch'd him with those silent tears. 
 Old man ! should tears in such a death have part ? 
 Death brought no terrors to that true, firm heart ! 
 
 All gently Death drew near, 
 
 And o'er him crept 
 Without a sign of fear 
 
 As though he slept ! 
 The watcher knew not when the breath 
 
 Had left the lips, 
 Nor in the filmy eye of Death 
 
 Saw Life's eclipse. 
 
 For Death came softly to him, as if he 
 Had humbly to the sick man bent the knee, 
 And said, " I cannot scare thee : pain nor dread 
 Can round thy faith-clad soul disturbance shed. 
 
 And thus he pass'd away 
 
 Without a sigh ; 
 But as upon its way 
 The bier went by, 
 To reach the home of all the dead, 
 
 Some thought of him ; 
 And while they, mourning, bow'd the head, 
 
 Their eyes grew dim. 
 In the still quiet of their lone fireside, 
 For him the widow and the orphan sigh'd ; 
 And he went down with blessings to his rest. 
 Was his a sad fate ? God ! it was most blest ! 
 
46 
 
 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 IN olden times a lonely woman dwelt 
 Beside the waters of a rocky shore : 
 Baronial state was her's, and gold and lands ; 
 Dependants by the hundred throng'd her halls 
 And but dependants ; never guest there came 
 To her lone castle ; never friend or foe. 
 All moods of revelry, all moods of mirth 
 Were there unknown. They say, for years and years, 
 A spoken word she had exchanged with none, 
 Save the land-serfs upon her wide domain ; 
 And e'en to them her speech was cold and brief, 
 Her bearing absent and inanimate. 
 No care of their well-being troubled her, 
 No anger if they failed in duteous faith ; 
 She heeded not their wants, she shunn'd their love, 
 She noticed not their virtues, or their crimes. 
 Alone upon herself her eyes were turn'd 
 She had no wish to look on other things ! 
 A hidden grief, deep-seated in her heart 
 Born there in youth possess'd her ev'ry thought ; 
 Its silent plaint she only cared to read, 
 Its bitter pangs she only wish'd to weep. 
 She built no hope in others' hopes ; she felt 
 No fears in others' fears : alone, alone, 
 As though she were a being of past worlds, 
 Having no sympathies akin to this, 
 She lived within her castle stern and old ; 
 And wore a look of sorrow in her face 
 That seem'd reflected upon all around ; 
 
ONE I JFK, ONK GRIEF. 47 
 
 For in her presence her retainers caught, 
 
 As by a spell, the sadness of her look. 
 
 And the fair castle once a fortress strong, 
 
 Well-kept of yore, by its lords' heedful care, 
 
 From war's or age's ruin now, in parts 
 
 Show'd yawning rents, and symptoms of decay. 
 
 The flowers trail'd along the garden path ; 
 
 The deer roam'd fearless in the park-like grounds ; 
 
 The steeds her menials bridled for their use ; 
 
 And in the precincts of the forest wide 
 
 That girdled her domain, the robber's step 
 
 Uncheck'd prowl'd nightly, in sharp search of prey. 
 
 Rough men kept revels there, and laugh'd their laugh, 
 
 And pass'd their jest upon their ill- won spoil ; 
 
 But none approach'd that castle's stern old walls 
 
 None deem'd them, or their wealthy habitant, 
 
 Fit theme for jest or booty. A strong fear 
 
 Of that old building, and its mistress lone, 
 
 Hung o'er the minds of those who dwelt around. 
 
 Its walls were shunn'd like mausoleums shunn'd, 
 
 The dead's dry bones containing ; high and low, 
 
 And good and bad, turn'd from its broad, fair grounds : 
 
 Yet none knew why only the silent grief 
 
 Which ever dwelt within the lady's breast, 
 
 And thence athwart her home diffus'd itself,' 
 
 That noble castle and its rich domain 
 
 Enveloped in an atmosphere of woe, 
 
 Which on all things throughout height, depth, and 
 
 breadth, 
 
 Shed forth its blight of sadness and decay ; 
 And by its look of ruin and of death, 
 Within men's minds a strange awe bred and nursed, 
 'Till friend, and foe, and kindred kept aloof. 
 
 And thus for years that lonely woman lived ; 
 A living ruin of youth, hope, and peace 
 
48 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 Within a ruin dwelling ; a lost link 
 
 In the vast chain of human sympathies, 
 
 Which without sin earth's offspring may not break : 
 
 For in its coil fair seedlings of good deeds 
 
 Lie, fit to germinate lie, fit to be 
 
 By them developed into life-known facts ; 
 
 To call forth in their souls the succouring love 
 
 That in His likeness purposely He placed, 
 
 To mirror back an image of His own. 
 
 But this weak mourner, eyeing but the grief 
 
 Within her own heart, idly lived and died, 
 
 Therefrom self-sever'd unto woe's idlesse. 
 
 Yet in her latter hours some say she grew 
 
 Eepentant of her vain and useless life ; 
 
 That to the Eternal offer'd but a soul 
 
 Self-made a blank of most things good and true. 
 
 When Death came nigh with sure and certain step, 
 
 To one young girl, whose fair, pale face express'd 
 
 A sister-woe to that which dwelt in hers, 
 
 This, sad lament she passionately spoke : 
 
 " It brings not hope, unbroken Solitude ! 
 It gives not rest it doth not teach us good ! 
 Though from life's fane life's heartless masquerade, 
 That needs must wear a vizor until death 
 It shields our strength, and suffers us to bear 
 Pale sorrow's signs on sunken cheek and eye. 
 Yet do not thou as I have done, fair child 
 Forsake not thou the world for one lone grief, 
 For never solitude freed soul from thought ! 
 Thought ! the hard Worker, that for ever kneads 
 Each pang of pain into a fever'd mass 
 Of poisonous food, on which the sick mind feeds 
 Till mind and heart are poison'd to the core. 
 Oh ! in the quiet of this friendless life, 
 Thought gains a sleepless power grief deepens tears 
 
ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 49 
 
 Flow far more frequent than they flow'd of yore I 
 It doth not teach us better how to bear 
 It doth not give one single pause to pain 
 Which if not sharp as when its secret wound 
 Touch'd rudely by the cold world's cruel hand, 
 Then quiver'd into anguish terrible it yet 
 Hath a more tireless pang to pain my heart with. 
 
 " Of old, I heard it said that sharpest pangs 
 The soonest finish ; that the slowest ones 
 More surely fasten on the vital parts, 
 And slowly wrench the heart's life-fibres out. 
 And it is so ! In the gay whirl of life 
 Griefs shock was stronger grief's throe more intense ; 
 But then its hold was shorter. Then it came 
 Like a swift whirlwind, ploughing up each hope, 
 The floodgates whelming of each minor thought ; 
 Until it pass'd, and left no strength for pain. 
 As in that nerveless lethargy, which oft 
 Is death's preceder, pain lived for awhile. 
 While it so lived, my spirit rose ; I strove 
 To lengthen out its trance, and quench its might ; 
 And for a space, at times, it from me fled. 
 But here, but here within these quiet walls, 
 The daylight comes the night the day again ; 
 And hours glide into days days into years ; 
 Yet still the ceaseless Worker worketh on ! 
 Strong Thought ! brave Thought ! the Spirit's mighty 
 
 sword, 
 
 That through earth's barriers heweth on untired, 
 And knoweth not one conq'ring foe save Sleep ! 
 But scant and rare thy triumphs, wished-for one ! 
 Rare as the rainbow on fair Heaven's vault, 
 When not a cloud disturbs the azure height. 
 Yet as a sprite of earth and heaven forrn'd, 
 With lineaments most softly beautiful, 
 
50 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 Angel of Rest ! my dreams oft picture thee. 
 
 The clear, cold moonbeams flowing round thy form ; 
 
 Thy presence palely lustrous from their light. 
 
 And thy sweet breath the essence of thy spells ! 
 
 Perfumed and fresh with those cool dews that fall 
 
 To banish the grey twilight's ling'ring heat; 
 
 While wings, as soft and downy as a bird's, 
 
 Their snowy plumelets rustle, in tuned time, 
 
 Faint music to create, as sweet and low 
 
 As rise the love-sighs of the breeze-kissed thyme. 
 
 Beside my couch my soul oft views thee watch, 
 
 And feels thy moonlight smile upon its depths, 
 
 And knows thy star-like eyes have on me fix'd 
 
 A pitying look of mildly, patient love ; 
 
 Till mine own, yielding to magic spells, 
 
 And closing slowly feel thy scented breath 
 
 Pass o'er their lids, and penetrate the brain. 
 
 Moments most blest ! A loving despot, Sleep ! 
 
 When soul and frame material know thy power, 
 
 Dull grows the vivid sense of outward things ; 
 
 And fever'd Pain seems dying a soft death 
 
 In thine kind arms, oh ! holy, blessed One ! 
 
 And Thought forsakes her shrine of agony, 
 
 And whispers l Peace ! Some seconds thou shalt be 
 
 Quit of this world, thou weary, weary heart ! ' 
 
 " Earth, earth, of all thy gifts, give me sweet sleep ! 
 I mock thee not to ask for happiness, 
 For that thou canst not give me ; but for rest 
 For rest, I only ask thee rest, sweet Sleep ! 
 Oh ! I could pray that all my life might pass 
 In sleep's half death-like lethargy of thought 
 Of life of grief. Men pray for many things. 
 But I, my God, I only pray for rest ! 
 
 " Pray'd I for rest ! Who talks of rest on earth ? 
 Thought must live on in toil perpetual ; 
 
ONE LIFE, ONK <,IMi:i. 51 
 
 Thought is immortal, and must live and work, 
 Till from its earthly home it burrows out 
 The vital part of frail humanity ; 
 Till having freed its being from its bonds, 
 Within the spirit-world it finds itself 
 Within a sphere for smooth activity. 
 
 " But until then, though life endure long years, 
 One dream of youth must ever haunt my soul 
 With blasted hopes spent struggles ceaseless tears ; 
 Must ever haunt it, though its hopes and pangs 
 Were conquered and crush'd down in bygone times. 
 I knew 'twas justice that the strongest mind, 
 Within its selfhood, could it fairly see 
 And know itself the strongest, should bear up 
 The weaker 1 s burden chanced it that it could. 
 Mine was the strongest it could most endure ; 
 Mine was the wisest it could most foresee ; 
 And thus it saved a loved one from the pains 
 That girdle its own being until death. 
 
 " For once, through sleep as well as waking hours, 
 The thought of one at whose name my heart beat 
 With fever'd speed, and my calm soul forsook 
 Its wonted firmness, ever dwelt with me. 
 Him, with the idol- worship of the heart 
 The woman's heart oft times I sadly watch'd 
 Unwittingly, with half-veil'd looks of love ; 
 While the lip-music of his rich, clear voice, 
 My list'ning ear fill'd with its magic tones, 
 And, even now vibrating, lingers there, 
 Like an immortal echo, 'scaped from death. 
 I could have kiss'd the ground he trod upon ! 
 For him given life. Small sacrifice, one's life ! 
 A greater mine. When he my heart forsook, 
 And laid his love-vows on another's shrine, 
 My hand was in his destiny. I work'd, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 With the firm strength of love, the Self-denyer, 
 To make it bright as earthly lot could be. 
 I made it bright. I trod the shadows down 
 That dimin'd the pathway of his second love ; 
 I brought about the happiness he sought. 
 He knew not that. 'Twas better he should not ! 
 
 "I could have lessen'd mine own dearth of joy, 
 Might I have miss'd one momentary hope ; 
 Since oft the mem'ry of a long-past joy 
 To sorrow yields a momentary lull. 
 I would have call'd my joy's remembrance back, 
 And lived it o'er in musing bliss again 
 Upon one smile or look of love have dwelt 
 In after years, half satisfied, till death. 
 But no such mem'ry has a being for me ! 
 From him I won no smile or look of love". 
 Too true ! for that, when I discern'd our love 
 Had Fate's decree against it, I crush'd out 
 From his proud heart the love mine lived to meet 
 Long ere 'twas nursed into mine agony 
 Long ere I knew that life was love love, life ; 
 I could the most endure, and he could not ; 
 I was the most foreseeing, and I turn'd 
 Back from the path that led his heart to mine. 
 I pray'd for strength it came ; and when he spoke . 
 Words, upon which my sick soul hung for life, 
 I stood as spee6hless and as deaf as stone 
 Cold, cold as ice ! I school'd myself to have 
 Tongue, eyes, nor ears, nor woman's heart for him. 
 That I was stern and passionless, he said 
 That I had not a heart to love as if 
 Ever a woman liv'd that did not love ! 
 
 " And then his love died out. He went and smiled 
 On one who ere long loved him as I loved, 
 
ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 53 
 
 But with far brighter hopes. Most glorious God 1 
 
 It needed all my strength to keep me then 
 
 Firm to my purposed sacrifice of self. 
 
 For lo ! my heart and soul, knit in one cry, 
 
 Call'd out to heaven and earth to leave him mine. 
 
 But that was selfish : so in calmer hours 
 
 My soul said to me Had I not endured 
 
 Pangs, tears, and sighs to make him scorn my love ; 
 
 And should I now undo what I had done ? 
 
 No, no ! God help me ! I was true and soon 
 
 Grew cold in mien as yon saint carved in stone, 
 
 That from her niche beside the tapestry 
 
 Seems gazing out with smile impassible 
 
 Scorning to look in pity on the strife, 
 
 The earthly strife within my heart and brain. 
 
 " Like those fair isles that floating from the north, 
 Bear slowly down towards the sunlit seas, 
 As if no friction from their summer waves, 
 Liquid through warmth, could melt their hardness down, 
 First trod I through this world's sad scenes of grief, 
 Of spring-time hope, of false and transient bliss, 
 Cold, silent, pride-supported, pain'd at heart. 
 But, as the iceberg, though no watching eye 
 'May trace its onward course, must yield at last, 
 And from th' attrition of the sunny waves, 
 Give way before them, so I felt the mask 
 That cloak'd my grief was slowly wearing off : 
 Would soon show all the features of my soul 
 Uncheer'd by hope, envisaging despair. 
 T was then my spirit bade the world adieu 
 It could not bear its pity, perhaps its scorn ! 
 Hither it came in loneliness to dwell, 
 To make one woe the sole care of its life ; 
 Till, sever'd from all kindly sympathies, 
 The links of ev'ry social tie became 
 
54 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 Victims to its wild grief's idolatry. 
 
 Mine was a deaf ear to the Word that saith, 
 
 ' Unless we love our brother as ourselves, 
 
 We love not God ' void are our forms of pray'r, 
 
 And vainer and more void our faith's profession. 
 
 But now, when nears the close of my long life, 
 
 In trembling fear I know that He looks down, 
 
 And sees within the waste depths of my heart 
 
 My sorrowing self I worshipp'd, and not Him. 
 
 " And yet I had not need to make that life 
 The godless, useless blank that I have done ; 
 Ev'n when, grief-laden, still my heart and brain 
 Were stronger than the common run of earth. 
 They once had yearn'd to work forth goodly deeds 
 Of high emprize, unsoil'd by selfish thought ; 
 But grief came to me, and I weakly bow'd 
 Beneath the yoke I should have striven to break. 
 Soul ! thou hast vainly spent thine years of life 
 Hast bound thyself unto a judgment harsh ! 
 Thine is the talent buried in the earth, 
 That gives no interest back unto its Lord. 
 Soul ! mourn the past ! weep o'er it with hot tears 
 Though tears shall not redeem thee from rebuke ! 
 Thrall'd by the sinful idleness of woe, 
 They who shrink back from life's true burdens, knit 
 Their souls more closely to all earthly things : 
 They who bear on and conquer win the day. 
 Oh ! had my life been one of earnest deeds, 
 In yonder world enacted ! the old world, 
 From which I shrank in grief's deep bitterness, 
 And which the patient God-man trod till death ! 
 But I ne'er sought to view life's tangled thread 
 With Wisdom's glance, nor through its path perplex'd- 
 Perplex'd, it may be, not for woe but weal 
 Watch'd for the dawning purpose of my God ! 
 
ONE LIFE, ONE CHIEF. 55 
 
 Thus, thus through life I should have pray'd and thought. 
 
 c Grief is upon me, O Eternal God ! 
 
 Grief is upon me, and mine heart is weak !j 
 
 But give Thine help, and I will strive to live 
 
 Not, not alone for selfish happiness ! 
 
 Give me Thine help, and heavy be my cross, 
 
 If so Thou wilt ; but make Thou my strength much, 
 
 And that faith grant me which, in woe or joy, 
 
 Sees the wise lesson of a loving God P 
 
 " Then do not thou as I have done, fair girl, 
 But to the world wend back with patient heart, 
 Though thy soul sorroweth sorely. Deem thou not 
 That God will pardon grief's lone idleness. 
 Aye ! to the world wend back, my gentle child, 
 And for thy kind work holy deeds of love ; 
 Else thou wilt mourn as I have mourn'd this day ; 
 Else will thy spirit brood o'er thoughts like mine, 
 When lies death-conquer'd its life tenement ; 
 While Truth unveil'd, and pitilessly bright, 
 Her stern self mirrors in each heav'nward thought, 
 And makes the soul pass sentence on herself. 
 
 "Yet, God! my God! though I have sinn'd through grief, 
 And fear to meet thee at thy judgment seat 
 I give thee thanks ; the lone deed of my life 
 To him, the loved one, yieldeth joy and peace. 
 That was a good work was it not, my soul ? 
 A self denying one, and lo ! it brought , 
 
 Its own reward, since men aver he lives 
 In wealth and peace, and high in their esteem. 
 I saved him then I saved him from the pain, 
 That long suspense and joy deferr'd had given. 
 I waited not in idle hope to watch, 
 The dark clouds falter from before my path, 
 That never might so falter though some said 
 
56 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 Time had done much. I faced the worst at once : 
 
 Crush'd out the love he bore me in its birth, 
 
 And saved him, girl ! and saved him ! did I not ? 
 
 " DicPst thou then save him, lone one ? didst thou 
 
 save 
 
 His spirit from the sorrow shunn'd and fear'd ? 
 Did'st thou do right to save it ? His and thine 
 In sympathy commingled like the souls 
 That olden fancies fabled to be one, 
 While dwelt the golden primal bliss on earth ; 
 But twain, divided into parts, when ceased 
 That once perfection. Ever since that time 
 Ofttimes each other seeking with vain search. 
 Then if in spirit-structure mingling thus, 
 Was thine the hand to sever them anew, 
 Because thy faith could not pierce through the clouds 
 That seem'd to gather round their closer union ? 
 Would'st thou have bent to crush a budding flower, 
 For fear it could not weather wind or storm ? 
 No ! had'st thou said the God that made the flower 
 Will from His own hand give it strength to live, 
 And bear the tempest if it seems him good. 
 True, had thy soul known, by rare excellence 
 In spirit-knowledge, thou wert not the one 
 On this earth fitted most to sympathize 
 With him on whom thy constant hopes were built ; 
 That thy young love and his had sprung from seeds, 
 Chance-sown ; may-be rear'd up in short-hVd strength, 
 And foreign to the soil on which they grew ; 
 
 Then had it been a pure and glorious deed 
 
 To will the sev'rance of his heart from thine, 
 
 And, by thy self-denial, clear the way 
 
 Unto a blinded lover's better good. 
 
 But it was not so. Well thy spirit knew 
 
 Thine, from amidst all others on the earth, 
 
ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. .57 
 
 Had held with his the closest, holiest union. 
 
 And thus, if no sin mingled with the love, 
 
 The yearning wish to knit his fate to thine, 
 
 Through Earth, through Heaven, then the strength 
 
 compell'd 
 
 That nerved thy heart to wear a lying mask, 
 And give his love its death wound, did not come 
 From yonder Heaven fear-born, it came from Earth. 
 Why did'st thou blot that bright star from thy path ? 
 Did not thine lead towards it ? What if dark, 
 And rough with obstacles the onward way : 
 Thou unbeliever ! could not the Most High, 
 Who placed them there, remove them at his will ? 
 Did not thy soul reflect his ? and his thine ? 
 Look ! if two beings found to match each other 
 Their suitable relations recognise, 
 Then is it right to deem for a vain jest 
 So mutually like Heav'n made them not. 
 And that though time, space, parent's will, or Heaven's, 
 At times appear to work their severance, 
 Faith-led and faith-supported, sinless hope 
 Will through each adverse circumstance of life 
 Prove a sure yoke to them both together, 
 And make their destinies close in one point. 
 
 "This it is just to deem; but had there come, 
 Through thine or his faith's weakness, a false fate, 
 That, with much grief, had parted ye for life, 
 Ask thine own spirit, in its truer moments, 
 Whether the knowledge that there did exist 
 A being, fitted in the mind and heart 
 Its often deem'd ideal thirst to slake 
 In that rare soul- communion that it held, 
 A lost joy of this earth, a bliss of Heaven, 
 Could bring more anguish to it, though it knew 
 It might not swear it a life fealty, 
 
58 ONE LIFE, ONE GRIEF. 
 
 Than the sick, void of faith, that deems such thirst 
 
 But as unreal, meaningless, and vain ? 
 
 Thou would'st not thank a self-denying friend 
 
 Who, the existence knowing of a truth 
 
 That thy soul long had vainly sought to prove, 
 
 Yet work'd a lie to save thee from the sight, 
 
 Because attainable through pain and death ? 
 
 And Love seeks Truth ; if Truth, its worship must 
 
 Show forth its essence in the forms it wears ; 
 
 And those who falter from it, even though 
 
 They falter to work good, anon will see 
 
 Good so created pine away and die. 
 
 For Truth with Falsehood may no bargains hold 
 
 Its fairest fruits to ripen ; else a blight, 
 
 Close to the core, the aiding falsehood clings, 
 
 And rots away its strongest life-foundations. 
 
 Aye ! Love seeks Truth and Truth is firm and just. 
 
 If, then, such love glides o'er a human heart, 
 
 Let that heart worship it in very truth ; 
 
 Denying not its being, though bright Hope 
 
 Her advent nameth as a distant joy, 
 
 Her advent nameth as a hopeless one. 
 
 Hope sprang from Earth, as once Earth gazed on Heav'n ; 
 
 Faith, born in Heaven, descends to visit Earth : 
 
 Give, then, thy faith wide scope the heavenly po wer 
 
 Must in the end o'erwhelm the earthly one. 
 
 The sight of Heav'n, granted while on earth 
 
 Unto a soul half doubting such existence 
 
 A broad sea's billows, flowing o'er a waste, 
 
 Met sudden by a streamlet on the rocks, 
 
 Where, far apart from outlet and from sight, 
 
 The burning stone its waters wither up 
 
 So views a thirsting soul its kindred one ; 
 
 So in glad confluence strength'neth its life -hopes, 
 
 And thanks bright Heav'n for having rent the cloud 
 
 That veil'd from sight the substance of its faith. 
 
TMK DELUGE. 59 
 
 " Thou did'st not save him, vainly-martyr'd one ! 
 He ever felt that thou wert the lone star, 
 Whose light had brightest o'er his pathway shone ; 
 Whose spirit would have knit itself to his 
 More closely than another's, had'st thou will'd 
 A gentler, different ending to his suit. 
 He knew to him but secondary powers 
 All others, though as fair as thee, must prove ; 
 And in his heart there lived a secret spot, 
 That hid a heap of marr'd and youth-born hopes, 
 There trodden down unto Despair's dry dust. 
 Their summer bloom he once had idealised, 
 But never saw ; they, in their slow decay, 
 His heart-soil fretted to a bleeding wound 
 That knew no cure Twas thine hand wither' d them." 
 
 THE DELUGE. 
 
 ST. MATTHEW, CHAP, xxiv., VERSES 38, 39. As in the days that 
 were before the Flood they were eating and drinking, marrying 
 and giving in marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the 
 ark ; and knew not until the Flood came and took them all away. 
 
 HOLIDAY fare and festival mirth 
 
 The children of men were keeping ; 
 Karely and bravely over the earth 
 
 Soft Music's sweet tones were sweeping. 
 Idlers, by thousands, strolling along 
 
 The shores, in the sunlight beaming, 
 Passing around the jest and the song, 
 
 Of ages of joy were dreaming. 
 
60 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Holiday fare the heavens beheld 
 
 Throughout the earth's countless regions ; 
 Unknowing their funeral call had knell'd, 
 
 The people were troop'd in legions. 
 Brides, in attire costly and rare, 
 
 Their brows with bright gems were wreathing ; 
 Lovers to maidens splendidly fair 
 
 Their -vows in the groves were breathing. 
 Led by the lore of the sculptured page, 
 
 The past and the present viewing, 
 Deeply and gravely ponder'd the sage, 
 
 A phantom of knowledge pursuing ! 
 Some in the Future pictured their lot, 
 
 Some mused on the fleeting hour : 
 Only one theme encouraging not 
 
 It spoke of the God of Power ! 
 Worldly the hopes, sins, sorrows, and mirth 
 
 Within every spirit dwelling, 
 Slowly the while, in the entrails of earth, 
 
 In silence the Flood was swelling. 
 Visions of bliss seem'd hovering there 
 
 The song and the dance were mingled ; 
 But in no heart for gratitude's pray'r 
 
 A moment of thought was singled. 
 Thoughtless and mad their jubilant glee 
 
 Wild shouts from the crowd were breaking, 
 Ever exulting in joy to see 
 
 The festival mirth awaking. 
 Gliding to temples stately and old, 
 
 Rich barks with a few were freighted 
 Temples with domes, and fretwork of gold, 
 
 Of glistening stones created ; 
 Which, as the sun the mists of the night, 
 
 Superb in his strength, dispelling, 
 Show'd the dark bulwarks' Titanic might 
 
 The ocean's broad waves repelling. 
 
THE DELUGE. Cl 
 
 Gilded the shafts and terraced the walls 
 
 How great was their sculptured beauty ! 
 Gemmed the carved idols, painted the halls 
 
 How warp'd was men's sense of duty ! 
 Far from the ways of holiness wreck'd, 
 
 Dark slaves of the earth-gods grinning, 
 Niched in the walls, be-sumptuously deck'd 
 
 How deeply their souls were sinning ! 
 Yet to the depths of guilt and pride 
 
 Their God did not leave them wholly ; 
 Chosen and sent the sinners to chide, 
 . One spake of their deeds unholy 
 Year after year did the Prophet's pray'r 
 Call them, his grief for their sins to share ; 
 Heedless they turn'd from the old man's voice, 
 Ever, as now, to rejoice rejoice ! 
 
 Yes, bright eyes were glancing then ; 
 Words, that but Love should pen, 
 
 Spoke in the breeze ; 
 Wafted to those who stay'd 
 Helping the timid maid 
 
 Light oars to seize ; 
 For fair the maiden groups . 
 Hurrying in hasty troops 
 
 Bright sands to gain, 
 That in the painted bark, 
 Nursed by the waters dark, 
 
 They might remain. 
 Carelessly, dreamingly, 
 Half-utter'd, seemingly, 
 
 Soft strains were sung ; 
 But unto those on shore, 
 With a strange power the more 
 
 Round them they rung. 
 
62 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Sweet were their syren songs, 
 Breathless the distant throngs 
 
 Listen'd were still'd ; 
 While love and pleasure stole 
 Stealthily o'er the soul, 
 
 As those strains thrill'd ; 
 And to each cadence soft, 
 Fair girls' white arms aloft 
 
 Rich incense threw ; 
 While o'er the swelling sails 
 Flutter'd their silken veils, 
 
 Waving adieu. 
 
 Answer'd the gazing crowd 
 Long o'er the waters loud 
 
 Eose the deep strain, 
 Till from those maiden bands, 
 Songs were 'unto the sands 
 
 Borne back again. 
 
 Then spake the Prophet " The hour is past ; 
 Woe, woe to the earth ! 'tis come at last. 
 Hear ye the curse? On earth and on sea, 
 Children of Evil, God's judgments see ! 
 
 Cry not for pardon weep in fear ! 
 
 The hour is past, the Flood is near!" 
 " The hour is past ! " cried the mirthful throng, 
 Around him closing with dance and song ; 
 
 " The flood is near ! " and a quick reply 
 
 They tuned to a reveller's strain hard by. 
 
 " Prophet, come here a word in thine ear ; 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la : 
 Dotard thou art, no trick of thy part 
 
 Shall on our merriment jar. 
 
IMF. DELUGE. 63 
 
 Open thine eyes, and look at the skies, 
 
 Aha! aha! 
 Do the clouds weep, or thunderbolts leap, 
 
 Earth or her pleasures to mar? 
 
 " Foot it, brave dancers foot it, fair girls ; 
 Sweet is the sound of your anklet-bound bells. 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la. 
 Treading to music, the foliage between, 
 Feet, white as lilies, by snatches are seen, 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la. 
 Foot it, brave dancers foot it, fair girls; 
 Sweet is the sound of your anklet-bound bells ! 
 
 " Still at thy cry ? and is the Flood nigh? 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la. 
 God if there be, at us and at thee 
 
 Smiles He from heaven afar. 
 False, false, greybeard, thy tale it is fear'd, 
 
 Aha ! aha ! 
 Where is the God that owneth the sod? 
 
 Lives He in sun or in star ? 
 
 11 Foot it, brave dancers foot it, fair girls ; 
 Sweet is the sound of your anklet-bound bells ! 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la. 
 
 Tints, like the rose, on your flushing cheeks rise, 
 Light, like the sun's, from your brilliant dark eyes I 
 
 Tra, la, la, la la, la. 
 Foot it, brave dancers foot it, fair girls ; 
 Sweet is the sound of your anklet-bound bells ! " 
 
 And over the land, and over the sea, 
 
 Vibrated the tones of impious glee ; 
 While onwards, to others, the old man went, 
 And sadly he murmur'd, " Repent ! Repent ! " 
 
64 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Though many the revellers, one was the shout 
 They told him his God they could do without ; 
 Yet even the sound of the Seer's wild cry, 
 Thus pierced through the tones of their minstrelsy : 
 
 " Brother, whither art thou going ? 
 
 Come and spend an hour with me, 
 Since my heart is overflowing 
 
 With the kindest love for thee ! 
 For old friends, true friends, good friends, we ! 
 And never a breach, I ween, 
 In our brotherly love hath been ; 
 
 And never a breach, never a breach, never a breach 
 will be! 
 
 Never a breach, ho ! never a breach 
 Prophet of Evil ! what dost thou preach ? 
 Ha ! still at the same old craven cry ! 
 Idiot, begone !" 
 
 " The Flood is nigh ! " 
 
 '' Mine own, mine own, 
 
 There is none so fair as thee ! 
 Never an eye more brightly shone 
 Than the one that shines on me ! 
 Full, and dark, and deep, 
 'Neath the lashes' sweep, 
 
 Glitt'ring, glowing, speaking sweeter thoughts than lips 
 express 
 
 A might, a depth of love 
 I prize yon heaven above. 
 
 Though its fabled God could grant its Eden's happiness. 
 By this kiss upon thy cheek, 
 
 I love thee, I love thee ! 
 By the words my heart's vows speak, 
 I love thee, I love thee ! 
 
THE DELUGE. 65 
 
 Lover's sigh, and lover's tear 
 Dost thou heed?" 
 
 "The Flood is near !" 
 
 " Thou art a youth of sober mien, 
 
 A youth of thought and sense ; 
 And with no hollow feint, I ween, 
 
 To learning makest pretence. 
 T is with no levity, I see, 
 Thou purposest to sound the sea 
 
 Of shifting human lore ; 
 But with a firm and patient pride, 
 Thou'lt cleave its deep and variant tide 
 
 To depths unknown before : 
 Till, rich with gems from wisdom's mine, 
 
 Each coming year shall bring 
 Fresh honours, and fresh stores of fame 
 
 Earth's dirge, the Flood's waves sing ! " 
 " The Flood, old man ? Fair Science shows 
 
 Such dullard's dream untrue ; 
 Immortal, well the wise man knows, 
 
 Is the broad earth in view." 
 
 " Oh ! I wonder if those tales be true 
 
 That the olden legends tell, 
 Of the golden gates of Paradise, 
 
 And the jet black ones of Hell ; 
 Of the seraph hymns, and angel harps, 
 
 Often heard when all was lull'd ; 
 Of the serpent, and the crimson fruit 
 
 That a daring mortal cull'd ; 
 
 " Of the Glory shining in the grove, 
 
 And the Voice that spoke within, 
 While the Tree of Knowledge taintless stood 
 'Till it felt the touch of sin ; 
 
66 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Of the God, that reign'd in Heav'n on high, 
 
 And once spoke to man below, 
 In the tones of mercy and of love 
 
 None now on the earth may know. 
 
 " Once my mother fair in fear I ask'd 
 
 If those ancient tales could be ; 
 But she said my words were foolish ones, 
 
 Though she fondly answer'd me : 
 And with pearls my brow she braided o'er, 
 
 And she jested as she spake, 
 While she told me not to muse again 
 
 On such themes, for her dear sake. 
 
 " Then my father stern I sadly ask'd 
 
 And he marvell'd much at me ; 
 And he answer'd that the wisest men 
 
 Ever said they could not be. 
 And he chid my mother that such dreams 
 
 Had employ'd my hours of youth ; 
 And he call'd them vain and idle tales, 
 
 With no single spark of truth ! \ 
 
 11 But I know that when that old man sighs, 
 
 And beseeches us to pray, 
 Through my spirit's depth a shiver creeps, 
 
 And I know not what to say ! 
 Oh ! 'tis doubt, and fear, and dread, and shame 
 
 That have bitter hold on me, 
 And before my heart their sway surmounts, 
 
 There, there- , The Hood ^ fce , 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! out of the way ; 
 Take heed of your bones, and take heed of your brains. 
 So ho ! keep within bound, 
 Give the racers fair ground, 
 
THE DELUGE. 67 
 
 And peril be on the mad fool who remains ! 
 
 Back ! back ! out of the way ; 
 A right mettlesome steed will not slacken his speed. 
 
 Out of the way ! out of the way ! 
 Tramp, tramp they 're coming, they 're coming ! 
 
 Tremendous the shout 
 
 The barriers without 
 
 The signal is given the minstrels are thrumming 
 Tramp, tramp they 're coming, they 're coming ! 
 Far in the desert they captured the couple 
 Sleek are their coats, and their limbs lithe and supple ; 
 
 Free as the air, free as the air, 
 
 GambolTd they there 
 
 Tramp a tramp, tramp they are passing before -us, 
 Swift as a lightning flash darts its way o'er us ; 
 Flowing their manes, and fiery their eyes, 
 Like a wing'd meteor, the foremost one flies. 
 See ! how she speeds ever faster and faster 
 Ha ! the fair creature hath met a disaster 1 
 There is foam on her lips, there is film on her eyes 
 She is breathless and panting 'tis lifeless she lies ! 
 
 She stiffens she dies ! 
 Heed not thy rival, thou yet living wonder ! 
 Thou and the goal are still widely asunder ; 
 On to the spot where, acknowledged victorious, 
 Crested with plumes, clad in panoply glorious, 
 
 Thine, thine is renown 
 
 By Nisroch ! she 's down ! 
 Dead at the winning post, more is the pity ! 
 Cover the carcase, and on to the city, 
 
 For the time's fleeting by, 
 
 Other pleasures are nigh 
 We cannot, fair creatures, stand by you to sigh ! 
 
 Ha ! what dost thou here, 
 
 Crazed dreamer, false seer ? " 
 
 "Ye lost ones ! ye doomed ones! the Deluge is near." 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE DELUGE. 
 
 "On my fever'd heart thou'rt lying thou art dying! 
 
 thou art dying ! 
 I know it by those gasps of breath, that yet more faintly 
 
 flow 
 When death call'd away thy brother, it still left me, thou, 
 
 the other, 
 
 And I dried my tears and kiss'd thee, but now, 'twill 
 not be so. 
 
 " Tis a breaking heart is grieving see, his little chest is 
 
 heaving, 
 
 In spasmlike contractions oh ! I know that he will die ; 
 But why did ye all deceive me ? yet I felt that he would 
 
 leave me, 
 Dead! dead! I hear thee, mother, but cannot yet reply. 
 
 " What on earth -can soothe my sorrow ? as to-day will be 
 
 to-morrow, 
 Hope is dead with thee, my darling and yet I clasp 
 
 thy form, 
 
 As my salt tears flow above it, how I watch it ! how I love it! 
 Though the life-heat of my bosom, still fails to keep it 
 warm. 
 
 " Man ! what would'st thou ? Ha, the Prophet ! can thy 
 
 words my sorrow profit ? 
 Hence ! I care not for thy warnings, I've heard them 
 
 oft before 
 In yon jester's songs they're shrieking, the vain threats 
 
 that thou art speaking, 
 
 Prophet, wizard, teacher, madman, go, trouble me no 
 more. 
 
 " Hear ! let these wild words repel thee- there lives not a 
 
 God, I tell thee : 
 I'm a widow poor and lonely, of ev'ry thing bereft, 
 
THE DELUGE. 69 
 
 And I've done the right I could do is there more a mor- 
 tal should do ? 
 If there's a God in Heaven my child he would have left. 
 
 " But there is no God so leave me ; for I have enough to 
 
 grieve me, 
 
 My brain is sick with sorrow, my heart is faint and sore : 
 Oh ! the wish is unavailing, but I would instead of wailing 
 Die, die with thee, my darling " 
 
 " When the Flood sweeps to the shore !" 
 
 " Partly in jewels, and partly in gold 
 Stored are my riches, of value untold ! 
 
 Chink, chink chink, chink. 
 Laden and weighty, and broad in the girth, 
 Buried the chests, in the depths of the earth, 
 Safely and soundly chink a chink, chink 
 Fasten'd with iron, by bolt and by link. 
 Potent the power my treasures will buy : 
 Count not the limits, the scale is too high 
 
 Chink, chink chink, chink, 
 Pleasure and beauty, and slaves by the shoals ; 
 Houses and acres, men's lives and men's souls 
 Patiently, humbly chink a chink, chink 
 Wait at the beck of the rich man's wink. 
 
 Chink! chink! 
 
 Oh ! scrupulous fools may dream and pray 
 A pleasanter life I lead than they ! 
 Ha ! wizard and seer, why comest thou here ? 
 Off! screech-owl, begone ! " 
 
 "The wild Flood fear!" 
 "Ha, ha! ha, ha ! 
 Carry thy tongue and thy tale afar ! " 
 
 " I have not a place to lay my head ! 
 God ! if there be one strike me dead ! 
 
70 THE DELUGE. 
 
 I cannot endure 
 
 This pain without cure 
 
 This frenzy of woe ! 
 'Tis dying by inches the torture *s too slow ! 
 
 For there is not a spot 
 
 Where guilt pricketh me not 
 The hopeless, the friendless, the lost in despair ! 
 
 In the shadows of night, 
 
 In the broad noon of light, 
 I hear the same voices my sentence declare : 
 
 No rest ! no rest ! 
 
 Accursed and unblest ! 
 Hath ever the fallen found peace in her breast? 
 
 No woe, no woe 
 
 The spirit may know 
 More deeply, more bitterly dealing its blow 
 
 I have not a place to lay my head, 
 
 Or an honest chance to gain my bread ; 
 'Tis bitter -for ever to tread on amiss, 
 Though hating the sting of pollution's false bliss 
 
 But I will make sure 
 
 It shall not endure 
 Better the worm and the grave than this ! 
 
 The grave than this ! 
 I will hence to night I will hence to die 
 
 With a bitter joy " 
 
 " As the Flood sweeps by ! " 
 
 " By day and by night I have track'd, and have found him ; 
 
 Now he is nigh now he is nigh ; 
 Before the light fades gyves and irons have bound him 
 Safe in my power then he shall die ! 
 Well I know that his fear, 
 When the dagger draws near, 
 Will be abjectly base, abjectly base ; 
 
THE DELUGE. 71 
 
 Coward-like, he '11 kneel low 
 
 To avert its sure blow, 
 And tears, like a woman's, soil his fair face ! 
 
 Yet the traitor shall feel 
 
 The cool temper of steel, 
 And Mercy be silent at Vengeance' command; 
 
 As he kneels in the dust 
 
 Shall come the death thrust 
 
 Ha! what shall deliver him then from mine hand?" 
 "But the rise of the sea! the Flood on the 
 land!" 
 
 "Hush! hush! 
 
 Heard ye not the wind's wild rush ? 
 Still thy lute, and still thy voice 
 It is well thou should'st rejoice 
 In this festive mirth, my daughter ; 
 
 But by yon wizard's word, 
 
 Beneath my feet I heard 
 A strange flow of gurgling water ! 
 I see a shadow in the air 
 One minute since it was not there ! 
 The earth was still, the sky was fair ; 
 
 But now the heavens are dark ! 
 And yonder glides that wondrous thing, 
 Of which in jest the people sing 
 
 Noah steps within the Ark ! " 
 
 " In the sky a rain-cloud gathers, 
 
 Out-door mirth will soon be o'er ; 
 Brother, hie we to our dwelling, 
 Ere the storm can reach the shore. 
 Brave company there 
 Is as good as elsewhere, 
 Though the heavens no longer our jubilee share. 
 
72 THE DELUGF. 
 
 Storm torrents, adieu ! 
 
 There is shelter in view 
 
 Brother, here is my home a tight sojourn for two. 
 For old friends, true friends, good friends we ; 
 
 And never a breach, I ween, 
 
 In our brotherly love hath been, 
 And never a breach, never a breach, never a breach 
 
 will be! 
 
 Never a breach, ho ! never a breach 
 I saw the billows yon temple reach ! 
 
 With a hurricane's sweep, 
 
 And a terrible leap, 
 They dash'd o'er the giant god's form ; 
 
 Its shatter'd bulk hurling 
 
 Where billows are whirling, 
 To sink the first wreck of the storm ! " 
 
 " Dark and thick the heavens grow, 
 Heavy clouds are floating low, 
 Lurid with the lightning's glow ; 
 But what fearest thou, fair bride, 
 Since the loved one 's at thy side ? 
 Through the lightning, through the storm 
 He will bear thy fainting form. 
 Nay, but cheer thee, cheer thee ! 
 And do not look so pale 
 Thy very senses fail : 
 Zillah ! dost thou hear me ? 
 What ! thou sighest dost not speak ? 
 
 Sweet soul, sweet heart, sweet wife ! 
 With this kiss upon thy cheek, 
 
 Come back, come back to life ! 
 Oh ! I love thee ! I love thee ! 
 Be there, curses on my head 
 When the spoken words are said 
 Before all gods, I love thee ! 
 
THE DELUGE. 73 
 
 A lightning flash 
 A thunder crash ! 
 Ha ! Fate ! God ! Vengeance Demon ! she is dead ! " 
 
 "A rare phenomenon a change 
 
 Though much to thought addicted, 
 So vast, so sudden, and so strange, 
 
 I could not have predicted. 
 How wildly worketh yonder ocean, 
 Upward and broad its heaving motion ! 
 As if it thirsted to embrace 
 The darken'd earth's all pallid face ; 
 While freezing blast and sultry sigh 
 In quick succession pass us by. 
 
 Mark well the scene before 
 
 We leave the crowded shore 
 Such sights as these are rare, in truth, 
 
 And heeded they should be ; 
 Their meaning sought for, gentle youth, 
 
 In science, history." 
 
 " I would yon seer had stay'd on the shore, 
 
 Entreating us all to pray 
 Why doth he close the door of the Ark, 
 
 And glide on the seaward way ? 
 I fear to glance at earth or at sky, 
 
 So terribly dark they grow ; 
 But more, far more to look at the sea, 
 
 When lit with the lightning's glow. 
 Ha ! what was that which before me past ? 
 It came and went with the wind's hot blast 
 It had the form of a wondrous thing, 
 A human frame, and a birdlike wing 
 
 Its shining face it turned on me 
 
 But never a word it said ; 
 
 Oh ! sad it was that face to see, 
 
 As wailing, it from me fled ! 
 
74 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Bearing the look of pitiful woe 
 Angels on high for mortals might know 
 Was there an Eden's happiness brief? 
 Is there a God ah, grief! ah, grief! 
 If God I confess 
 His wisdom will guess ; 
 'Tis terror has taught my heart belief! 
 Dread Powers of Heaven the rent rocks quake ! 
 Mother dear, mother dear, fly for my sake ! 
 Fly from our dwelling in ruins around, 
 That crush me and kill me, it falls to the ground. 
 Linger not, lover, for words on mine ear, 
 Breaking in anguish, betray thou art near. 
 
 Strive not to aid me the rent rocks quake ! 
 
 Mother and lover, fly for my sake !" 
 
 " Gold, gold, my treasures of gold 
 Gems and metals down they rolTd ! 
 Horribly deep ! my wealth beside 
 Suddenly yawn'd an abyss wide. 
 Riven the chests, and scatter' d the store 
 Shining resplendent went piles of ore, 
 
 With a chink a chink, chink, 
 
 O'er its terrible brink 
 Mine eyes before ! Mine eyes before ! 
 
 And the owl and bat sweep by 
 In the gloom they mistake for night ; 
 
 They start with a shrinking eye, 
 
 As the gleam of the firefly 
 
 Flashes o'er those jewels bright. 
 But what is the noise that strikes mine ear? 
 Those yells of affright, and moans of fear ? 
 What madden'd and motley troop comes here ? 
 
 In the air above 
 
 The falcon and dove, 
 Gull and vulture, and pigeon and crow, 
 
THE DELUGE. 75 
 
 Stork and pheasant, and eagle and thrush, 
 Drifting on in the hurricane's rush, 
 O'er as strange a group on the earth below ! 
 Wolves and hyaenas, and bears and sheep, 
 Oxen and horses, before me sweep ; 
 Jackal, and lion, and deer have past 
 Lightning and thunder, and whirling blast ! 
 What is the cause of this wild affright ? 
 Have the dumb beasts heard 
 That the Prophet's word 
 Hath said the Flood will be here to-night ? 
 My God ! my God ! but 'tis even so ! 
 A river hath flooded the vale below ! 
 With a cataract's might it speeds o'er the plains 
 Not a creature of life in its way remains. 
 Hundreds are dying 
 Under its waves ; 
 Thousands are flying 
 
 From wat'ry graves. 
 
 In vain, in vain : 'tis a fore-dopm'd chase ; 
 The swollen waters must win the race ! " 
 
 " Torrents are falling fast 
 
 Rivers are rushing past 
 
 Whirlwind and ocean 
 
 Quicken their motion : 
 
 Tis the Flood's early signs of commotion ! 
 
 Let it come ! let it come ! 
 
 Pain and grief 'twill benumb 
 
 Shame, yok'd to despair, 
 
 Annihilates fear, 
 Ever rules the sole pulse of emotion ! 
 
 But whence comest thou, 
 
 Fair image of woe ? 
 Why cling to my side in dread ? 
 
76 THE DELUGE. 
 
 And what dost thou hold 
 
 In thine arms so cold ? 
 A child : and thou say'st 'tis dead ? 
 Is 't for the babe that heavy sigh ? 
 
 Dost thou weep for him ? 
 
 Oh ! womanish whim 
 That thou should'st weep that he should die 
 
 Die young ! 
 
 Die, spotless and happy, by guilt unstung ! 
 Look ! look at the rain-drench'd roads 
 Covered with lizards and toads ! 
 Swimming along in the Flood, 
 Daub'd with the slime, with the mud ; 
 While down the length of the stream 
 Bright colours at moments gleam 
 , From the slime-bound flies, 
 
 Clad in painted dyes, 
 That are glued to their livid backs 
 
 Like the petals of flowers, 
 
 Tempest-torn from the bowers, 
 The storm-winds disperse on their tracks. 
 Aye, look ! those stain'd, yet beautiful things, 
 With burnish'd scales, and with golden wings, 
 Are the purer thoughts of the soul, that flit 
 
 First clad in divinest hues, 
 O'er the flood of darkness our souls emit, 
 
 Till beauty and life they lose ; 
 And bedraggled and drench'd in Evil's waves, 
 They flutter along to their sin-soil'd graves ; 
 Are the better feelings, that touch the heart, 
 And a heav'nly happiness might impart, 
 
 Were it not for the sin 
 
 Our hearts within ; 
 
 Were it not for the woe 
 
 Such sin must know. 
 
THE DELUGE. 77 
 
 Aye, turn and look at those fragile things, 
 Glued fast as they float to the oozy mud ; 
 So, writhing beneath the serpent's stings, 
 
 Thoughts once that could save cling to Evil's flood ; 
 When lost is the soul, though it still retains 
 A dream of the right, 'midst the hell that remains ! 
 
 Unblest, unblest, 
 A sinner, I sit in guilt and sorrow ; 
 
 Thy child 's at rest : 
 
 His spirit is white, and no sin may borrow. 
 And if he were not, 
 His and thine the same lot, 
 
 And mine, mine too, ere the dawn of to-morrow ! 
 For soon the ocean the shore shall seek, 
 And the Flood's wild voice our death-call shriek." 
 
 " Though thy gold were heap'd above my head ; 
 Though a thousand voices from the dead 
 
 Mov'd in unearthly strife, 
 And for mercy gibber'd with ghostly groan ; 
 Though the lips that spoke were my father's own, 
 
 I would not spare thy life !" 
 Thou would'st not spare his life ? 
 Lift dost thou still the knife ? 
 
 Fool ! look upon the water ! 
 Is it a time for vengeance' threat ? 
 Is it a time thy glaive to set ? 
 Is it a time for slaughter ? 
 
 Loose, loose thy prey ! 
 
 Shrink from his side in awe and fear away 
 The brute creation crouch in silence by ; 
 
 Hush'd are th eir strifes they tremble, and are stilL 
 But thou, with cruel and bloodthirsty eye, 
 Thou, thou, God's image strivest yet to kill ! 
 
78 THE DELUGE. 
 
 A stillness in the sky the earth the sea 
 A lull the treacherous lull of death before 
 
 God's vengeance cometh : ha ! thou still would'st slay ? 
 The chance is past ! the ocean floods the shore ! 
 
 Climb to the mountains, climb ! 
 Spare not a moment's time ! 
 Raiment and treasured store 
 Leave on the flooded shore 
 The flooded shore ! 
 
 Landward, in one vast sweep, 
 
 Whirls the advancing deep ; 
 Mountains and giant caves 
 Fill with the sound of the waves 
 The waves' wild roar ! 
 
 Tempest-stricken, like the ocean 
 Shakes the earth, in wild commotion ; 
 Rent asunder are the mountains : 
 Leap to life their hidden fountains, 
 That, o'er splinter'd fragments splashing, 
 Meet the swollen rivers, dashing, 
 In wild cataracts of foam, 
 Onwards to their ocean home. 
 
 And the veil'd sun's pallid shining 
 Keeps in brightness still declining ; 
 Blacker vapours round him gather, 
 And his shrinking glories sever, 
 'Midst the thunder-clouds' collision, 
 More and more from mortal vision ; 
 
 While strange meteors in the sky 
 
 Flit his fading image by. 
 
THE DELUGE. 79 
 
 Gaze earth's wonder-stricken dreamers 
 On them, as wrath's tokening streamers ; 
 Strange their shape, blood-red their colour : 
 As light wanes they grow the fuller 
 Glowing there, like words of fire, 
 Sometimes lower, sometimes higher, 
 
 Darting far athwart the sky, 
 
 Strangely, brightly, luridly. 
 
 Then the gloom grows darker, stranger, 
 Wilder, deeper grows the danger, 
 As the winds, unshackled, rising 
 With a thunder-yell surprising 
 Earth, and air, and sky, and ocean 
 Come dread hurricanes in motion ! 
 
 Rousing the dread waters' strife 
 
 Stronger still 'gainst human life : 
 
 Till the moon in perturbation 
 Gazes out upon Creation, 
 Where the ocean's thousand billows, 
 Dashing down, like sapling willows, 
 Fertile boundaries, rocky barriers 
 Death's and Havoc's fearful carriers ! 
 Giant mountains, white with foam, 
 Leave for earth their ancient home. 
 
 At the bidding of the thunder, 
 Broke the sea its chains asunder, 
 Mingling with the torrents gushing 
 From the rent sky onward rushing, 
 Nought can make its progress waver 
 Like a sheet of burning lava 
 
 Lit by the wild lightning's flame, 
 
 O'er the shrinking earth it came. 
 
80 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Bower and garden, streamlet, fountain, 
 Hill and dale, and plain, and mountain ; 
 Forests dark, and vast, and trackless 
 As the sky's all pathless blackness ; 
 Pastures rich, and glorious landscape, 
 Islands fair and shingly sand-cape, 
 Cities in their full-grown pride 
 Sink at once beneath the tide. 
 
 Then the voices of the mountains, 
 Mimicking the deep's wild fountains 
 Echo back their hollow roaring, 
 Till the mad waves on them pouring 
 Higher sweep, and whirling o'er them, 
 Hush the giant shouts before them ; 
 And in lonely majesty 
 Speaks the sad voice of the sea. 
 
 Yet there thrill from earth ascending, 
 Shrieks and cries the heavens rending, 
 From the pale lips of the dying, 
 That wild ocean vainly flying ; 
 Laden with the broken booty 
 Of a lost, past world of beauty. 
 Fearful is thy dark unrest, 
 Earth ! once number'd 'midst the blest. 
 
 From the bosom of the waters 
 Sink the fairest of thy daughters ; 
 Youths as fair though Death's embraces 
 One by one each charm effaces ; 
 Age and childhood there are striving 
 Still to be amongst the living, 
 Still to gain, 'midst fearful strife, 
 Perhaps one moment more of life ! 
 
THE DELUGE. 81 
 
 Upwards rose, in accents fearful, 
 Sometimes stern, and sometimes tearful, 
 Prayer, and curse, and bitter wailing, 
 Earth's just doom in vain assailing ; 
 Till a few shriek out to Heaven 
 Words they dare to be forgiven 
 Words of utter blasphemy 
 Clench their hands in wrath, and die. 
 
 Others, from the heavens turning, 
 Yet o'er earthly love are yearning : 
 Even amidst the fearful danger, 
 As the scene grows wilder, stranger, 
 Turn they yet, with fond compassion, 
 To the objects of their passion, 
 
 Love's last look in death to meet 
 
 Love in death is still so sweet ! 
 
 Others, silent and despairing, 
 
 For themselves nor kindred caring, 
 
 View the wild Flood onward rolling, 
 
 Feel all hope within them cooling : 
 
 Know its rage is not yet sated, 
 
 Know it will not be abated 
 Till it covers each bow'd head, 
 Sweeps it downwards to the dead ! 
 
 And from mountain summit~shifting, 
 
 Some are strong in hope uplifting 
 
 Wife or child, or friend, or lover, 
 
 Father, brother, sister, mother. 
 
 Dreamers ! still they think to save them 
 
 But those billows, who could brave them ? 
 Doom'd is Earth awhile to death, 
 Doom'd is every creature's breath. 
 
 G 
 
THE DELUGE. 
 
 God ! each sinner's strength is failing 
 Lower sounds their weaken'd wailing ; 
 But a few, with bitter sighing, 
 Weep the dead, or mourn the dying. 
 Strengthless, plain tless, they are gazing 
 On the ocean slowly raising 
 Its deep waters to the place 
 Where still shines a human face. 
 
 Now they spread, a sunlit ocean, 
 Swelling with a gentle motion ; 
 For the storm's wild voice is passing, 
 And the deep is calmly glassing ; 
 Sky as fair, and sun as shining, 
 As on summer clouds reclining ; 
 Like a sapphire, blue and bright, 
 Flooded earth receives the light. 
 
 But they know the doom is on them 
 Soon the Flood will be upon them ; 
 Nerveless lie they, on the ocean 
 Gazing, without sign or motion ; 
 Inarticulate the mutter 
 That their pallid lips would utter. 
 
 Grandly silent rolls the sea, 
 
 In its dread immensity. 
 
 Onward rolls it now 'tis round them, 
 
 Now its brilliant waves have bound them ; 
 
 Pallid are the woe-worn features 
 
 Of the last of human creatures ; 
 
 Some are heads of glorious beauty 
 
 Sea ! be tender of thy booty ! 
 Gently flow the waters on 
 God ! the last pale face is gone ! 
 
THE DELUGE. 
 
 83 
 
 The Flood was still'd 
 
 No shrieks of terror thrill'd 
 
 Along the watery plain ; 
 Hush'd was the last faint cry of pain, 
 Hush'd its last echoes' lingering strain. 
 Fair was the sky, and sunlit was the ocean, 
 Rippling o'er earth with soft and gentle motion ; 
 Till white, and shining like a lustrous star, 
 Fair, yet most sternly fair, from Heaven afar, 
 A flame-wing'd spirit, sea and sky between, 
 Held a swift flight through breezes now serene. 
 'Twas the Destroying Angel that had past 
 Swift, at God's word, through thunder and through blast, 
 Unlock'd the tempest-spirits of the world, 
 And death the Flood destruction o'er it hurl'd. 
 From the bright splendour of a golden cloud, 
 Dazzling with light, he shone ; and then aloud 
 
 Spake he" The work is done ! 
 Lo ! the wide ocean covers all the land, 
 Sin, once unawed, is check'd at Thy command, 
 
 All-glorious One ! 
 
 Mad were the myriads that forsook their God, 
 Death-vanquish'd now, where once in pride they trod. 
 Life had'st Thou given them life and all beside 
 Where did the source of Thy deep love abide ? 
 End knew it not ! Earth form'd beneath Thy hand, 
 Call'd them her kings at Thy supreme command ; 
 Yet they forsook thee soon forgot Thy laws 
 Mock'd at Creation, and its First Great Cause. 
 Well hast Thou stricken, in Thy wondrous might, 
 Those who had turn'd the soul's pure light to night ! 
 Thy love, long suff'ring, Justice piercing through, 
 Now reigns triumphant to the scoffers' view." 
 
 Thus spake the Spirit ; then, his pinions fair 
 Wide spreading on the sultry air, 
 
84 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 Majestic rose he through the shining sky ; 
 And disappearing in the heavens most high, 
 Left, to the flowing seas a helpless prey, 
 Earth, guilty Earth, which still beneath them lay. 
 
 CAIN AND SATAN ; 
 Oil, THE VISION OF THE DESEftT. 
 
 SLEEP, silence, death, life all alike I dread 
 
 Still lives for me the last look of the dead ! 
 
 Through sleep and silence conscience ever glows, 
 
 Like a sear'd brand, that scarce the death-flame shows, 
 
 Yet slowly shrinks to ashes part by part, 
 
 And burns, unseen, the life-core from the heart. 
 
 Earth giveth not one single hour of rest, 
 
 Nor death one moment to the sin-distress'd. x 
 
 Strange dreamy thoughts have told me that again 
 
 My soul shall live, to feel immortal pain, 
 
 With crime-pangs burthened, e'en like those which weigh 
 
 Now on my heart, and wear its life away. 
 
 Its life ? No, no ! alas ! its life must thrill 
 
 Long years in torture ere it can fulfil 
 
 The fate-fixed doom of Cain, the Heaven-accursed .... 
 
 Strong though my grief, mine earth- ties will not burst. 
 
 I pray'd for life God gave it knowing life 
 
 Could prove but with woe's deepest madness rife ; 
 
 In the far future, knowing thought would speak 
 
 But of the past, and His full vengeance wreak, 
 
 And rend my heart with pain's intensest pangs, 
 
 Like wounds re-opened by a viper's fangs. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 85 
 
 Oh God 1 Creator ! once my God ! behold 
 
 The anguish of my soul to man untold ! 
 
 One day, one hour, one moment give me peace ; 
 
 Still thou these pangs, and bid these wild thoughts cease. 
 
 Dread God, be merciful ! Before me now 
 
 They bring to sight that sunset's crimson glow 
 
 The red blood gushing from the quiv'ring wound, 
 
 The fair hair streaming o'er the purple ground ; 
 
 The girl-like form, laid out in slender length 
 
 By this cursed hand, in all its iron strength .... 
 
 Abel ! my brother ! this, this is not sleep 
 
 And my heart bursts not, and I cannot weep ! 
 
 Life from his cheek and from his lip hath fled 
 
 Abel, my brother ! Abel ! He is dead .... 
 
 " Where is thy brother Abel ? " Where was he ? 
 Stretch'd on the ground, beneath the forest tree. 
 And the All Holy heard that just blood's cry : 
 Yet his voice said not Die, accursed one, die ! 
 He bade me live ; He sent me forth to be 
 A wand'rer here, a thing for men to see, 
 To shun, to point at, not to harm with touch 
 That would have shorten'd this life's grief too much. 
 Yet once 'twas life I pray'd for. Sear'd in soul, 
 I shrank with dread before death's unknown goal ; 
 Not for its pain, but for the with'ring fear 
 That I should meet the slain and just one there. 
 Meet him ! meet Abel ! that fair corpse again, 
 God ! hast thou mercy ? Keep me from that pain ; 
 Keep me from him, in death, as wide apart 
 As is thy love, Creator, from my heart ! 
 I have borne much I suffer be it less 
 Than the pain earn'd by my past guiltiness, 
 But still enough this worn-out heart to wring 
 From ev'ry joy that to man's soul can cling. 
 
86 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 That night, when first the pale look of the dead, 
 The human dead I saw was cursed and fled. 
 Peace parted from me, heavenly love and truth ; 
 While sin and pain clung close to blight my youth, 
 And lit the fire-pangs of a hell-doom'd soul 
 Within my spirit, ere it reach'd its goal. 
 
 Alone, alone, in utter loneliness, 
 Save, perhaps, the Fiend that woke mine ire's excess, 
 In the first moments of my fear and guilt 
 I turn'd in flight from where his blood was spilt ; 
 But when the night her thickest mantle threw 
 Across that sunset's blood-stain'd, stormy hue, 
 Back trod I then to where a faint white mark 
 Rose near a forest's foliage, thick and dark. 
 Once my glad home there, bow'r-encircled stood, 
 Rude tents of sheepskin, raised on poles of wood. 
 Their God for vengeance praying their 1 s not mine ; 
 He had disown'd me He, the All Divine. 
 There, there, they cursed me, weeping o'er the dead 
 Father and mother, so my dark thoughts said ; 
 The slain's belov'd, young Ada Zillah, she 
 Whose heart had clung why did it cling to me ? 
 For I was wilful from my very birth, 
 And felt the crime-thoughts of this darken'd earth 
 Cling fast unto my nature, as if they 
 Their slave but held, and forced it to their sway. 
 Yet like those flow'rs of beauty that enlace 
 Leaf, bud, and blossom in the close embrace 
 Of some rough shrub, whose thornclad branches rend 
 The very thing they should the most befriend, 
 So did her spirit, in its truth divine, 
 Its wreath of beauty round my harsh one twine, 
 There in Heav'n's waneless constancy to live, 
 And bear the wounds my waywardness would give. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 87 
 
 Thus, thus in past times. Now, the pure in thought, 
 She could but hate the deed my hand had wrought ; 
 She could but shrink in sick'ning dread before 
 The once beloved beloved, perchance, no more ! 
 Yet one last look I felt mine eyes must cast 
 Where all my joys were centred in the past, 
 Where love's true smiles had found a resting place ; 
 One parting glance must dwell on Zillah's face, 
 Ev'n though I knew her smiles had changed to tears, 
 Ev'n though I felt her hatred through her fears ! 
 
 I lifted up our tent-door's heavy skin, 
 And, ere I knew it, stepp'd its shades within, 
 Her name my parch'd lips utter'd ; but no tone, 
 No sigh, came forth responsive to mine own. 
 Onward I went, an inner curtain drew, 
 And Heaven's justice wrung my heart anew : 
 There on the sheepskins, placed as if in rest, 
 Yet in his stain'd and bloody garments dress'd, 
 Lay my dead brother, pallor in his look, 
 Love in the smile that once mine anger shook. 
 There, too, as though of his still frame a part, 
 Press'd the young Ada close upon the heart. 
 Pale were her features, unbound was each tress, 
 Eigid her look of motionless distress, 
 And her lips mute, though parted, as if spent 
 Had been their utt'rance in grief's wild lament ; 
 While her fair arms around his neck were thrown, 
 Beaming with lustre where the moonbeams shone 
 Lustre that on their whiteness show'd the stain, 
 Glowing and red, of Abel's blood again ! 
 Rayless and calm, without one fall'n tear's trace, 
 Fix'd were her large eyes on his livid face ; 
 And my soul ask'd, in fear and in dismay, 
 As my glance rested where her frail form lay, 
 
88 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 Whether the current of a lover's breath 
 Stopp'd at the signal of the lov'd one's death ? 
 
 I would have shunn'd the sight I would have fled 
 The death-like living, and the blood-stain'd dead ; 
 But, as I turn'd, young Ada rais'd her head. 
 And then, my God ! on me th' unearthly light 
 Of her dark eyes glow'd with a spirit might ; 
 Heaven's justice must have lent them, to increase 
 Guilt's pangs within me, my heart's dearth of peace. 
 They were to me th' Avenging Angel's, eyes ; 
 They spoke to me the judgment of the skies. 
 Like the stars shining, palely, coldly still 
 Over the plain the bloodpool by the hill 
 Over that pool, which could not flee their light, 
 Nor its dread horrors bury from the sight, 
 Shone those large eyes on me and my despair ; 
 Moveless I stood, their with'ring glance to bear. 
 Anon, her lips stirr'd slowly, and a word 
 One word 'twas " Cain ! " I murmuringly heard ; 
 Till shuddering back upon the slain one's breast, 
 To his cold lips her quivering ones she press'd ; 
 Then fled I outwards, then in truth I knew 
 Within me dwelt a hell-fire, and I drew 
 Forth to the fields, my stagg'ring steps anew. 
 
 And there the strong man wrestled, but in vain, 
 With the deep tortures of remorse's pain. 
 Tears came hot tears the mem'ries of the past 
 Throng'd round my heart, its inner depths to blast. 
 The love of God the love of him the dead 
 Within that heart their primal feelings shed ; 
 Eve's fond affection Adam's earnest care 
 ' Home blessings once glow'd in remembrance there, 
 With Zillah's love" Thine never more to be," 
 Thought added wildly, " She hath fled from thee ;" 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 8 
 
 For, dearest, though I knew no word of thine 
 Would press one pang back on this heart of mine, 
 Where wert thou, then ? I came thy face to see, 
 Ere from my home, once loved, I turn'd to flee, 
 Ere, cursed of Heaven, in bitter grief alone, 
 I wander'd forth to distant lands unknown ; 
 And thou had'st shunn'd me ! shunn'd the last caress 
 The last fond word love might to thee address ! 
 For me, the past held no claim on thine heart ; 
 Love had died out, and thou could'st coldly part 
 Without one word to soothe my guilty woe, 
 Without one glance upon my branded brow, 
 In horror sever'd from me and my sin, 
 Compassion's signs soul-terror-pent within ! 
 
 So my heart wildly murmur'd as I stood 
 Amidst the shadows of the moonlit wood, 
 Till, numb'd with pain, grew dull my sense of thought, 
 And dull guilt's pangs to lifelessness o'erwrought. 
 Anon a light hand on mine arm was thrown, 
 Anon I heard a sweet voice' silvery tone 
 Thrill on my senses, wake their slumb'ring pain 
 Zillah ! my Zillah ! thy lips utter'd " Cain !" 
 " I knew thou would'st not leave me," thus she said, 
 And one large tear from her blue eyes was shed ; 
 " For I am thine thou mine we do not part; 
 By that dark brow I see thine aching heart. 
 Cain ! some slight solace thou in me may'st know 
 Whither thou goest, thither I must go. 
 See ! the night fadeth, and the dawn is nigh, 
 Cain! Cain! arouse thee! onwards we must fly!" 
 
 And, like a child, she led me from that spot 
 Eager she seem'd for flight, though I was not ; 
 Eager she seem'd to draw me from the scene 
 Where once our home of love and peace had been. 
 
90 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 Through the dank grass she trod with hasty speed ; 
 Dreaming, I follow'd where she chose to lead, 
 Till we both started, as a sobbing sigh, 
 And a light footstep softly hasten'd nigh. 
 Eve stood before us. By the twilight hue, 
 Spreading o'er earth, her grief- worn face I knew. 
 Aye ! there she stood ; her sad, yet glorious brow 
 Ever so sad ! still sadder, darker now. 
 Bow'd to the dust, with an eternal woe, 
 None but the first and fallen ones could know ; 
 But still, in pallid majesty most fair, 
 Though deadly yet the struggle with despair ; 
 Though in the mind's recesses madness kept 
 A secret watch where fever'd sorrow wept. 
 Ere I could tread one step back from her sight, 
 Ere I could dream one moment's thought of flight, 
 Her large dark eyes dilated, brightly stern, 
 Prophetic light seem'd in their depths to burn, 
 Upon my brow her hand lay in my ear 
 Accents most bitter thrill'd my heart with fear, 
 And with far flight beyond all earthly goal, 
 Clad with new pow'rs, her terror-stricken soul, 
 Fac'd the dark Future, rent its clouds in twain 
 And saw God ! Spoke they truth, Eve's bitter words 
 of pain ? 
 
 Never their burthen can my soul forget ; 
 Woe, woe is me ! it lingers with me yet ! 
 
 " Paradise ! Paradise 1- bright home of bliss, 
 Ne'er did I dream my sin could lead to this ! 
 One, one child dead ; the other worse than dead 
 Blood on his hand, a curse upon his head, 
 Henceforth a wand'rer on the earth to be. 
 Lord ! 'tis a doom too evil ev'n for me ! 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 91 
 
 For though, my God, I live the fountain head 
 
 Of the deep curse I see around me spread 
 
 That Eden's glories blasted in their birth, 
 
 The Sin Creatress of all sin on earth, 
 
 This, this last woe hath measured depth and length 
 
 With my past guilt, far mightier in its strength. 
 
 With horror laden, heart and soul have bent 
 
 Beneath far more than guilt's equivalent. 
 
 Alas ! not so. I see, I feel my sin 
 
 To speech arising my sear'd soul within ; 
 
 Its world- wide breadth, its visions dark and drear 
 
 Of import strange, to image forth with fear. 
 
 I see the wide earth peopled sin and pain 
 
 Reign to the full where peace was wont to reign ; 
 
 And pallid brows are worn with guilt's excess, 
 
 And childhood's smiles are old in weariness, 
 
 While manhood's strength lies wither'd like the reed 
 
 This hand hath pluck'd, and broken without heed ; 
 
 And woman, form'd love's purest hours to bless, 
 
 Lives the dim shadow of past loveliness ; 
 
 Lives not thine equal, husband, brother, friend 
 
 But to repent, to weep, to pray, to bend. 
 
 Hush ! hark ! there sounds a cry a fainting cry ! 
 
 A curse a pray'r another curse ! a sigh, 
 
 And the red blood flows gurgling to the ground ; 
 
 Has death once more a man-slain victim found ? 
 
 Then comes a tumult, strange, and dark, and drear, 
 
 And angry forms, and bitter cries draw near. 
 
 There lies the slain and helpless, kneeling there, 
 
 Her warm tears dropping on his long light hair ; 
 
 The mother breatheth son ! that livest, say, 
 
 What on this earth can wash that blood away? 
 
 I know that form so fragile, that fair brow ; 
 
 Up ! mine own Abel ! surely it is thou 1 
 
 Hark ! to the many voices, as they cry, 
 
 ' A Cain ! a Cain ! ' and thrill the summer sky, 
 
92 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 Till the wide echoes of the earth again 
 
 Shriek back the words, the doom-bound words c A 
 Cain!' 
 
 Darkness is round me, blood flows far and near ; 
 
 Thousands are slaughter'd. God ! what sights of fear ! 
 
 Doth then crime multiply ? Can from the one 
 
 Spring forth the many ? Underneath the sun, 
 
 Heaven's face before, the dwelling place of God, 
 
 Brothers and men upon the purple sod 
 
 Strike down each other in their sins to death ! 
 
 Pain, strange disease, and crime, and bitter shame 
 
 Bind to the earth man's worn and weaken'd frame; 
 
 Earth knows not peace, earth knows not happiness ; 
 
 Guilt rules her sons, and reels in wild excess. 
 
 Ah, Heaven, I thank thee ! here's a flow'r-deck'd scene 
 
 Lo ! the lost earth hath joys her griefs between ! 
 
 Fair are the forms that flit before me now, 
 
 Bright is each eye, and mirthful is each brow; 
 
 There is a sound of laughter and of pain! 
 
 Sighs, tears, and sobs, and laughter yet again. 
 
 Whence come those sounds? From yonder careless 
 
 throng, 
 That heedless smile unto the dance and song. 
 
 How strange those smiles ! half bitter, yet so bright ! 
 
 How strange those tears, seen through the dark eyes' 
 
 light! 
 
 And words of sin and shame are floating by, 
 And one hath left the brilliant crowd to die ! 
 None heed her absence. With a low weak moan 
 She lieth down upon the cold bare stone ; 
 The lipscorn round her warns her not to seek, 
 By word or look, the aid her needs bespeak ; 
 The purer from their tainted sister flee, 
 The sinning shun the end of sin to see. 
 Guilt-marr'd and gone, is all her youth's fair bloom, 
 Before the misery of a self- wrought doom. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 93 
 
 The brow is livid beauteous once it shone ; 
 
 The lips are white and speak, in griefs faint tone, 
 
 Words that betray a strange and deep despair ; 
 
 As if with Heaven her soul no hope could share. 
 
 Dying ! dying ! and no one near to say 
 
 A single word, to soothe death's bitter way ! 
 
 Dying ! dying ! and no one near to press 
 
 The wasted hand, in its last feebleness ! 
 
 Yet one more look of woe of sin of shame ; 
 
 And life's last throe hath quiver'd o'er the frame ! 
 
 My God ! Why will such visions o'er me sweep, 
 
 Resistless as the wild, salt tears I weep ? 
 
 Will many die like her? Will many be 
 
 Such as she was ? their curse thrown back on me. 
 
 For ev'ry evil flows from that one sin 
 
 Wrought by this hand fair Eden's gates within. 
 
 Oh ! mother Earth ! once glorious in my sight 
 
 Dark seem'st thou now, as looms the darkest night. 
 
 On thy scarr'd face, which once with beauty shone, 
 
 In wond'ring fear the silent stars look down ; 
 
 And the clouds weep* they wept not thus before 
 
 Of Eden's sky the blue was bright of yore ! 
 
 The flowers fade, the rising storm-winds shriek ; 
 
 And sin, and death, in ev'ry echo speak. 
 
 All all are captive to their galling chain ! 
 
 Earth ! thou hast nought but one wild look of pain ! 
 
 Paradise ! Paradise ! Bright home of bliss ! 
 
 Sinn'd I within thee but to lead to this ? 
 
 Cain ! minglest thou thy bitter tears with mine ? 
 
 Alas ! my curse is harsher far than thine ! 
 
 I have no heart to chide thee ; on thy path 
 
 I dare not cast one anguish'd word of wrath. 
 
 * Genesis, chap, ii., v. 5 and 6 : The Lord God had not caused it 
 to rain upon the earth. . . . But there went up a mist from the 
 earth, and watered the whole face of the ground. 
 
94 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 I only know, in hopelessness of thought, 
 
 That I this spreading, endless blight have wrought ; 
 
 That thou, my son, in sorrow born, in sin, 
 
 But for my guilt, wouldst Paradise within 
 
 Have lived immortal, bless'd with God's own peace ; 
 
 With those joys bless'd that suffer no decrease. 
 
 Now, now, thou art the joyless. Heaven's brand 
 
 Hath mark'd thy brow, and fated thy strong hand. 
 
 Earth shall disown thee ! Work nor will of thine 
 
 Shall force her fruitage in the sun to shine ; 
 
 Remorse shall torture conscience shall not sleep ; 
 
 Thou shalt regret him for him thou shalt weep ! 
 
 And vivid mem'ries of his love shall burn 
 
 Into thine heart, which for that love shall yearn ! 
 
 Lost ! lost to God ! pass onwards on thy way 
 
 Cain ! child ! we part ! One word of parting say ! 
 
 Still, son, for thee my soul to Heaven shall pray ! " 
 
 But I pass'd on. The dawn of day was nigh ; 
 And Zillah led, and I was forced to fly. 
 I did not clasp that mother to my heart ; 
 I knew my crime had made me one apart 
 From love of parent, and from love of friend ; 
 A branded thing of terror to life's end. 
 Yet still Eve seem'd half wishfully to stand, 
 Though from my brow dropp'd down her lifeless hand, 
 As if one look of grief to her address'd 
 Unask'd, had won forgiveness on her breast 
 Had laid my head ; its childhood's place of rest. 
 
 But I pass'd on, I knew not when or why, 
 Save Zillah fled, and T was forc'd to fly. 
 
 Then came that wild and wondrous desert scene, 
 Where, but for us, man's footstep had not been ; 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 95 
 
 When Zillah's strength beneath its toil gave way, 
 
 And faint and weary on the sands she lay. 
 
 The earth and sky were blended in one mass 
 
 Of vivid crimson. Not a blade of grass, 
 
 A shrub, a leaf, afar or near, was seen ; 
 
 Nor yet a stream those weary wastes between. 
 
 Dark rocks alone, of grey and sombre hue, 
 
 A. shade at times upon the wild scene threw. 
 
 Rent were their sides ; but not a fissure held 
 
 A single spring that to the red plain well'd : 
 
 All waterless their rugged outlines rose, 
 
 Sun-scorch'd and stern against the sky's deep glows, . 
 
 As if the God who cursed me in His wrath, 
 
 Had cursed whatever came across my path. 
 
 There was no breath of air ; the sultry heat 
 
 Sear'd our hot heads, and scorch'd our weary feet ; 
 
 A thirst unquenchable, hearts sick with fear ; 
 
 Strain'd, burning eyes, that could not shed one tear ; 
 
 And faint, and pain'd, and weary frames ; within, 
 
 A fever fire, that parch'd our blister'd skin ; 
 
 Were what we bore : until our failing strength, 
 
 As childhood's weak, yet weaker grew at length. 
 
 And Zillah droop'd ; although she strove to cheer 
 
 My fainting steps, and pray away each fear. 
 
 For she still pray'd between God's heaven and me 
 
 She was the only link my soul could see ; 
 
 The one sole gift by the Creator given, 
 
 That shared my curse, and yet partook of Heaven. 
 
 And onward still we journey'd ; till at last 
 
 We judg'd our perils close upon the past. 
 
 Far in the distance glow'd a beauteous scene, 
 
 A fair stream wound grass-cover'd banks between ; 
 
 With a strange beauty o'er their verdure thrown, 
 
 Sunclad with light the rock and river shone. 
 
 And " God is merciful ! " my Zillah sigh'd, 
 
 And strove to reach the spot that we espied : 
 
96 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 "To us He even listens ! Cain, oh ! Cain ; 
 
 Past are our dangers past each weary pain ! " 
 
 Past ! were they past ? Avenging God, not so ! 
 
 That treach'rous scene but mock'd our bitter woe. 
 
 'Twas all unreal ; as we drew more nigh, 
 
 Its beauteous features faded from the eye. 
 
 And a wild waste of sand and rock alone, 
 
 Glowing with heat beneath the red sun shone. 
 
 Yet we had seen it ; strange and wondrous dream ! 
 
 Still do I see thy palm-trees, and thy stream 
 
 In sparkling beauty winding near a bank, 
 
 With reed-grass cloth'd, with glitt'ring moisture dank. 
 
 But it had gone, I know not how or why ; 
 
 And in those sand-wilds we lay down to die. 
 
 To die ! For Zillah, as that vision fled, 
 
 Sank to the earth, and feebly droop'd her head ; 
 
 Then turn'd on me a dimm'd and tearless eye, 
 
 And murmur'd faintly, " Cain ! dear Cain ! I die ! 
 
 I know that this is death ; strange thoughts that clear 
 
 The ling'ring doubts that mingle with the fear 
 
 Of being sever'd from its form of clay, 
 
 Too clearly tell me whither lies my way. 
 
 But oh ! to leave thee in this awful place, 
 
 Adds deeper pangs to those death's terrors face. 
 
 God ! God ! the Just One canst not thou forgive, 
 
 And suffer me, though loving Cain, to live ? " 
 
 Then did her sweet voice falter ; and a look 
 
 Of dim worn pain my sternest manhood shook. 
 
 In anguish struggling, with a gasping sigh, 
 
 She strove to speak, and rais'd her downcast eye ; 
 
 But Heav'n cut short the effort, as her head 
 
 Dropp'd on my breast, and sense and life seem'd fled. 
 
 Yet life was there ; the breath in low, soft sighs 
 
 Still spoke the pow'r that glow'd not from the eyes ; 
 
 Though a strange stillness o'er her frame had spread, 
 
 That seem'd almost the quiet of the dead ; 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 97 
 
 And through my heart sent a quick, shudd'ring chill, 
 Which render'd anguish plaintless anger still. 
 Long did I watch her scarcely-breathing frame, 
 Beneath that sky and atmosphere of flame, 
 Till the low plaint she had till then suppress'd 
 Broke through the deep pain of her soul's unrest, 
 And her parch'd lips their burning thirst express'd. 
 
 laid her on the hot, yet soft, loose sand, 
 And from mine own I drew her burning hand ; 
 And with slow steps I had no strength for speed 
 I went to find the object of her need, 
 That fever'd lips all vainly ask'd to taste ; 
 Nor stream, nor springlet liv'd within the waste. 
 O'er the dark rocks I clamber'd, parch'd and drear, 
 Sand outlines only saw I, far and near ; 
 And then I raised my clench'd hands to the sky, 
 And cursed the face of Heav'n, and turn'd to die. 
 " Avenge thee, God, Creator ! " thus I cried, 
 " Thy fairest work lies with'ring at my side ; 
 And o'er my soul I feel that death has come, 
 To drag me downwards to the slain one's home. 
 Avenge thee, then ! Behold ! I dread thee not ! 
 Than the strange horrors of this dreary spot 
 Hell knows not deeper. Hasten, if thou wilt, 
 And ask of me the blood mine hand hath spilt. 
 Face to thy face, in death's or in life's path, 
 Will I, thy creature, dare thine unveil'd wrath. 
 I love thee not ; nor fear thee. I renounce 
 Thine ev'ry gift aye ! life and God at once ! " 
 And I sank down ; sank down by Zillah's side, 
 And breath'd her name ; but not a tone replied. 
 Only she took my both hands in her own, 
 And raised them gently where the bright sun shone ; 
 While in her eyes I saw a dim pray'r shine, 
 That the deep curse might fade away from mine. 
 
 H 
 
98 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 And I was silent ; for above my head 
 
 A purple hue the glowing Heav'ns o'erspread. 
 
 The air grew heavy, sickly grew the sun ; 
 
 To darkness fading, ere his course was run. 
 
 Then seem'd the whole soil loosen'd ; to the skies, 
 
 In thick, dark clouds, the wild waste strove to rise, 
 
 Till all was black as midnight ; earth and sky 
 
 Were blent in one dread, drear immensity. 
 
 " He answers thee ! He visits us again ! " 
 
 Pale Zillah cried. " He heard thy curse, O Cain. 
 
 Bow, bow thine head ! Beseech him ! No ! 'tis past. 
 
 Our hope of mercy death hath come at last ! " 
 
 Thicker and thicker grew the darkness ; life 
 Fainted beneath that wild storm's wondrous strife. 
 Zillah once more lay senseless: only I 
 Lived His great wrath in madness to defy. 
 Yet, yet he spared us : the dread scene was changed ; 
 Clear grew the air ; in mounds and hillocks ranged 
 Near us the loose, unstable dust was raised, 
 New features met my view where'er I gazed. 
 
 Was the earth form'd anew ? Did my brain reel ? 
 No ! for my heart too bitterly could feel 
 God's arm was working its Almighty will, 
 Evil to quell ; and guilt with awe to fill. 
 
 Soon the fair moon gazed at us from above, 
 And o'er the heavens shed her smiles of love ; 
 And one by one the stars o'er the deep blue 
 Of their arch'd space a sparkling radiance threw. 
 Still was the night, as though young Nature's breath, 
 For ever hush'd, slept in the embrace of death. 
 The flutt'ring fall of a light leaf, if heard, 
 The closing of the soft wing of a bird, 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 99 
 
 Had almost seem'd a startling sound of fear, 
 Amidst the calmness of that atmosphere. 
 But leaf nor bird were there such sounds to raise, 
 No living thing around us met my gaze ; 
 No earthly accent, save mine own faint sigh ; 
 A lost, dead world before me seem'd to lie ! 
 O'er it still wastes, spread endlessly around, 
 A home alone the glowing moonlight found ; 
 In mock'ry shining on their wither'd space, 
 As if to show the death-look on their face. 
 
 Yet death came not a cool breeze o'er us swept, 
 And life revived, and Zillah sigh'd and slept ; 
 But I still look'd upon that drear expanse 
 With hopeless anguish, and with frenzied glance. 
 I gazed until athwart the moonlight scene 
 A vision came the earth and heav'n between ; 
 From mine own heart the shadow seem'd to rise, 
 Increasing slowly till it reach'd the skies, 
 And o'er the heav'ns a form gigantic spread, 
 That a deep gloom upon the wild waste shed, 
 As upwards still it slowly wing'd its flight 
 Between that desert and its crown of light, 
 Till o'er the spot where I and Zillah lay 
 It hover'd like a sable bird of prey, 
 It hover'd, bent, and beckon'd me away. 
 It was the Soul Destroyer none but he, 
 Array'd in that dread majesty, could be. 
 Dark were the features of the Fallen One 
 Dark as the moonless earth when set the sun ; 
 Yet was their contour exquisite, divine, 
 Heav'n's own perfection dwelt in ev'ry line ; 
 But on the beauty of that wondrous face, 
 Through angel greatness, ruin I could trace ; 
 Within its look no heav'nly sweetness glow'd, 
 Only its outline to its God it ow'd ; 
 
 H2 
 
100 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 Blasted and darken'd by the soul within, 
 Heaven's was the shape ; its soul, the soul of sin. 
 Pallid and stern, the brow superbly proud 
 Seem'd with a vast almighty mind endow'd 
 Quenchless, supreme, save when his sceptre cross'd 
 God's holy will the Heav'n his guilt had lost. 
 Past hope, despair, the wild wish to defy, 
 Brute, man, and angel spoke within his eye. 
 Aye ! and God's self, in spite of past defeat, 
 And the dread terrors of the judgment seat. 
 As with the latent lightning of a cloud 
 Burthen'd with thunder, so his huge form glow'd, 
 Garbing its giant darkness with a hue 
 Lurid, yet pale, that 'gainst the sky's deep blue, 
 And through the white clear brilliance of the moon, 
 With a dull crimson lustre, dimly shone. 
 'Twas some faint glimmering of the fiery zone 
 Hell that encircles hell, the Lost One's throne 
 Ling'ring upon his sable plumes of flight, 
 Like a red meteor's on the brow of night. 
 
 Nearer he came, his heavy pinions spread 
 Like a dark mass of stormclouds o'er my head ; 
 Lengthy and broad, they stretch'd to Heaven's height, 
 Spann'd its wide arch, and veil'd the stars from sight ; 
 Then, with a gesture of supreme command, 
 Stoop'd the dread Fiend, and o'er me waved his hand. 
 His dark lips moved his voice said, ".Hence, away! 
 Cain, thou art mine I wait thee slave, obey ! " 
 And I I knew my master soul and heart 
 Felt his the pow'r that ruled their greater part 
 Shudd'ring and pain'd, their fear-struck depths within, 
 Felt his the pow'r that yoked their strength to sin; 
 Whilst in despair all pray'rless yet again 
 God's holy love they yearn'd for yearn'd in vain ! 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 10 1 
 
 I look'd on Zillah she, in gentle rest, 
 Calm as a child's, lay slumb'ring on my breast ; 
 But while I look'd, a stronger grasp than mine 
 Bereft me of her, as by will divine. 
 I knew not how her frail form pass'd away, 
 Mine own beloved ! my worn heart's only stay ! 
 I only know soft plumage struck the air, 
 That star-crown'd heads, bright faces gather'd there; 
 I only felt when broken Heaven's last link 
 The closer stood I to destruction's brink ; 
 For he was near me, whose soul-with'ring look 
 No false delay one instant seem'd to brook ; 
 O'er my sick heart I felt his pow'r sweep, 
 And in despair my fainting spirits steep ; 
 A sin-struck, human, God-forsaken thing, 
 I had no hope to which my soul could cling ; 
 Alone, alone, with Satan for my foe, 
 Had I to wrestle 'gainst my soul's o'erthrow. 
 
 Despair was on me tremblingly I stood, 
 A cold fear curdling my once burning blood ; 
 Till as the shadowy giant strove to clasp 
 His human prey within his mighty grasp, 
 My soul concentrate in one bitter cry 
 Sent forth its voice of anguish to the sky 
 " Save me, Creator ! save me !" thus I cried ; 
 " No help can bring deliv'rance thine beside 1 
 I urge no claim for mercy I have none 
 Guilt's hideous doom my soul has justly won ; 
 But yet I pray Thou see'st 'tis in despair 
 Small is the chance that Thou wilt hear my pray'r ! 
 But yet I pray remorse my heart within 
 Lord ! let thy mercies stretch beyond my sin ! 
 Save me ! oh, save me ! mortal is the strife, 
 Earth gives no suecour, hope hath pass'd from life." 
 
102 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 " Hope pass'd from life ? Soul, self-destroy'd not so ! 
 Still Cain the cursed may ling'ring mercies know;" 
 Thus said a low voice echoing through the waste, 
 And to my heart the sudden answer pass'd, 
 Like angel accents floating from the sky, 
 To still a whirlwind's wild intensity 
 " Godsworn and fix'd, the promise of the seed 
 Heaven gives to man, his help in hour of need. 
 God reft thee not of that ! thou hast it still 
 Believe, and live ! He will his word fulfil." 
 
 I listen'd, and look'd up the Fiend stood calm ; 
 Though fall'n his glance, and powerless his arm, 
 And I within the sternness of his look 
 Witness'd the check his spirit had to brook, 
 And in strong faith my pray'r-clasp'd hands I raised 
 To the fair sky, and my Creator praised. 
 " To the Lord God all glory !" thus I said, 
 "Though in this world a curse may strike my head, 
 Yet 'midst the darkness of my way on earth 
 Some flickering hopes shall in my soul have birth, 
 Like sunbeams glancing down a dark abyss, 
 O'er its black depths shall throw one smile of bliss, 
 And ever whisper that Thy spoken word 
 A future pardon on my crime conferr'd. 
 Believe, and live ! 'tis said, and faith shall prove, 
 Through Satan's trammels, guide to my God's love." 
 
 Then spread the Fiend his dark wings, and he swept, 
 With one fell downward swoop, to where I kept 
 My soul in tension for that strife of pain, 
 Which my heart told me would commence again. 
 In his stern look was bitter ire express'd, 
 As, drawing nearer, close upon my breast, 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 103 
 
 A weight almighty in its strength crush'd down 
 My spent frame prostrate on the desert stone ; 
 And hope, strength fled, and all and everything 
 To which for aid in that hour I could cling, 
 Save that low voice which falteringly stole 
 Yet on the anguish of my list'ning soul. 
 Aye ! there it was its soft tones sweet and clear, 
 With ev'ry pang commingling ev'ry fear, 
 Heard first as though from heaven its accents came, 
 Now seem'd it dwelling in mine earthly frame ; 
 My soul's dark depths its home appear'd to make, 
 And lend new hope the Dark One's pow'r to break ; 
 Like some kind spirit from a darken'd shrine 
 Striving to win the altar-flame divine. 
 
 I look'd around me side by side we stood : 
 The once pure spirit the once pure of blood. 
 " Thou dost defy me," then his stern voice said, 
 " Thou dost disown me ? Slave, upon thine head 
 Throw dust, and kneel for pardon kneel, adore, 
 Blood-stain'd thou art, and mine for evermore !" 
 And as he spoke, the earth and heavens threw 
 A glowing darkness o'er their dusky hue ; 
 The rocks, the sand, the heav'n above my head, 
 With thick and clotted crimson stains were spread, 
 Till in one mass of gore-tinged clouds they closed, 
 And o'er the sky in murky gloom reposed. 
 The burning air grew hotter, darker yet, 
 Strange blood-red vapours in its area met, 
 And slowly swept towards me, till they press'd 
 Weighty as lead upon my labouring breast. 
 Then the dread sky upon me as I stood, 
 Through the thick air, in heavy drops rain'd blood, 
 Till a blood ocean, large and vast and thick, 
 Surged round my frame, and turn'd my faint soul sick ; 
 
104 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 And from its midst 1 heard my brother's cry, 
 
 Death-choked in strength, pierce upwards to the sky ; 
 
 I heard Heaven's answering curse pronounced again, 
 
 I saw the earth red with my deep crime's stain, 
 
 And my strength fail'd me, and the dread Fiend laugh'd, 
 
 Triumphant, proud, at my soul's weakness scoff'd : 
 
 " Through yonder sea of blood can thy hopes pierce ? 
 
 Canst pray to Heaven, in spite of its deep curse ? 
 
 Canst think by faith to melt yon sky in prayer ? 
 
 Faith, Cain ! What faith can win an answer there ? 
 
 What hast thou left to soothe thy guilty fears ?" 
 
 Then said the voice within me, " Faith and tears." 
 
 And " Faith and tears," I answered, and I felt 
 
 That a new strength within my worn heart dwelt ; 
 
 And I stood up, and back the Tempter flew, 
 
 Though still a threatening look he on me threw. 
 
 " Faith," said I, " Satan, in the Promised Seed ; 
 
 Tears for the crime that makes my bruised heart bleed !" 
 
 And as I spoke, in the far east a Light* 
 
 Broke through the dusky vapours of the night, 
 
 As white and clear as if the mountain snow 
 
 Could in its pure and hueless brilliance glow, 
 
 And flashing in the crystal splendour live 
 
 That twice ten thousand dazzling suns could give. 
 
 A flame-wing'd sun, broad, brilliant, clear, and bright, 
 
 Rose 'midst the shadows of the dying night, 
 
 The blood-stains cleansing from the sky's deep blue, 
 
 Each moment growing larger to the view. 
 
 Its wondrous disc o'er half the heavens spread, 
 
 Bright showers of radiance on its surface shed, 
 
 And moon and stars, that pallid vigil kept, 
 
 Earth's nightly watchers ! from her bosom swept, 
 
 Till from the zenith downward to the west 
 
 The nightshades fled, and sought a short-lived rest, 
 
 * First advent of Christ upon earth. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 105 
 
 As that bright Sun's dilation o'er the sky 
 Sped further on, and doom'd them thence to fly. 
 And Light devour'd Darkness and our sight 
 No outward area saw in depth or height. 
 
 Then burst the desert the still bonds of death, 
 And gorgeous life reclothed its sterile dearth. 
 The sand arose in myriad forms of light, 
 With rainbows crown'd, and garb'd in robes of white, 
 And pinions softer than the downy breast 
 Of the young bird before it leaves its nest, 
 That gently waved their fresh plumes in the air, 
 And rose to meet bright heaven-born shapes as fair ; 
 While, as they left the bosom of the earth, 
 New sister-forms of beauty sprung to birth, 
 Till all its dust had floated from its face 
 In forms of gorgeous glory, wondrous grace. 
 Then brilliant verdure crept across the waste, 
 As angel- voices o'er its surface pass'd ; 
 And perfumes fresh, and dewy coolness, came 
 On the wild wind, whose sighs were once of flame ; 
 While the rose blossom'd, and the lily shone, 
 With beauty glowing beauty not their own ; 
 
 \oi not from earth their sparkling petals drew 
 
 *he soft sweet lustre of each variant hue ; 
 
 A\d not from earth the leaping streamlets caught 
 
 Th\ trilling music that their warblets brought. 
 
 'T\4s that fair Sun, whose wings of healing love 
 
 Sentfbrth each gift of beauty from above, 
 
 Till tie broad universe beneath its beam 
 
 Teemfl with life infinite, and bliss supreme, 
 
 SounoWew an echo of the songs on high, 
 
 Earth, Weflection of the shining sky. 
 
 I turnl to look on Satan, he and I 
 Lived thUone dark things in that gorgeous sky 
 
106 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 But like the breezes of a poisonous blast 
 
 O'er his tall form the radiant Light had pass'd ; 
 
 Unbent, if wither'd, like a fire-scarr'd tree 
 
 Not fallen yet, though death-struck, stern stood he. 
 
 Till grew within the centre of the Sun 
 
 *The glory brighter than it yet had done, 
 
 So bright, that ev'n the fair forms in the air 
 
 Bow'd their crowne'd heads in reverence and fear, 
 
 As if its rich magnificence of light 
 
 Too dazzling proved for ev'n their heaven-born sight. 
 
 Then backwards stepp'd the Evil One dismay'd, 
 
 Who erst so bold and stern a front had made ; 
 
 His lurid crown fell from him, rent in twain, 
 
 And, with a look of spirit-shrivelling pain, 
 
 His broad dark wings collapsing in their sway 
 
 Like sable clouds, prone on the earth he lay. 
 
 Then with a shining throng I seemed to rise, 
 
 In spirit-power, though earthborn, to the skies, 
 
 And saw this fair world brilliant as before 
 
 Sin shook her depths dark Evil's throne no more ! 
 
 Saw Satan strive to spread each blasted wing, 
 
 And yearn in vain to his past home to cling 
 
 For lo ! the earth sent forth a shower of rays 
 
 As bright and pure as heaven's all-wondrous blaze, 
 
 Till on her surface linger'd not a spot 
 
 O'er which that radiant glow of light lived not. 
 
 And Satan he who dares not dwell with light 
 
 Fled down from earth to his own realms of night 
 
 Through each successive darker depth of space 
 
 That giant form mine aching eyes could trace, 
 
 Till its huge outlines mingled with, were lost 
 
 In the impervious shadows that it cross'd ; 
 
 And, crush'd in hope the new earth to ensnae, 
 
 He reached his kingdom of confirmed despa?? 
 
 * Christ's second advent. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 107 
 
 Where Darkness reigns Hell's own distinctive mark ! 
 Dark as himself impenetrably dark ! 
 
 Then rang the whole wide universe with praise, 
 And moons and stars shone forth with meteor blaze, 
 And circling glow'd upon a sea of light, 
 That every shadow buried from the sight. 
 On and amidst their radiant pathways sped 
 Pure spirits, and the dust-forms of the dead 
 The dead of earth by thousands purified, 
 And with archangels wending side by side. 
 Endlessly, endlessly, through infinite space, 
 Their lustrous shapes of beauty I could trace ; 
 While from the lips of each successive throng 
 ThrilTd forth the burthen of a strange new song. 
 It spoke of man and holiness, once twain, 
 By glorious ties united yet again ; 
 It spoke our earth an Eden saved and free, 
 Rejoicing in her primal purity ; 
 Aid then my spirit darken'd, and I felt 
 Tint stubborn spirit to its Maker knelt, 
 In guilt's shame knelt, although e'en then it dream'd 
 That some bright rays of comfort o'er it stream'd, 
 That God had conquered for it and I wept, 
 And tith those tears a deep gloom round me crept. 
 The daczling vision faded from my view 
 Anon tl^e girdling darkness faded too 
 And but tfie sandclad waste before me spread, 
 And but \he moon her light o'er heaven shed, 
 In placid pallor only gently bright 
 Beside the ^oughts of the wing'd Sun's pure light. 
 
 Had it alluded? was there not one ray 
 Left to enlighten heaven's sin-closed way ? 
 Not one ! not Cae ! the quiet earth and sky 
 Alone shone dinly on my wond'ring eye. 
 
108 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 God! was that light unreal? Oh, my God, 
 
 Was it unreal like the verdant sod, 
 
 The verdant palms, the fresh and flowing stream, 
 
 Which erst deceived me like a fleeting dream ? 
 
 If so, great God, my worst doom is attain'd, 
 
 And to the full my wither'd heart is pain'd. 
 
 Thou hast but shown the glories of the blest 
 
 To make me feel more deeply Hell's unrest ; 
 
 And in Thy justice mercy Thou hast not ! 
 
 Death-doom'd my soul's hopes with mine earthly lot. 
 
 And I look'd round on Zillah still asleep, 
 
 Or dead, I scarce knew which I look'd to weep : 
 
 For the night wan'd ; I felt the morn's warm breath, 
 
 Fever'd with heat, shed forth its blight of death : 
 
 " Answer me, Lord, oh, answer me," I said, 
 
 "Will the noon see us number'd with the dead?" 
 
 And feebly then to heaven mine eyes I raised, 
 
 Until they falter'd on their way amazed, 
 
 A thing of beauty in the bright moonlight, 
 
 A living thing a creature fair and light, 
 
 On a sand hillock, as in shy surprise 
 
 Stood gazing at me with its large dark eyes ; 
 
 A young gazelle, like those to tameness led 
 
 By Zillah's care, in times for ever fled. 
 
 Aye ! life it had, young life, fresh, vig'rous, fre<, 
 
 As though a rover near the hills was he, 
 
 Where the breeze travels o'er the mountain siows, 
 
 And coolly bright the sparkling streamlet flews ; 
 
 For no fatigue its graceful limbs express'd, 
 
 No soiling dust lay on its soft white breast. 
 
 Idly upon its form at first I look'd, 
 
 No dream of hope my broken spirit brool'd ; 
 
 Still with clasp'd hands, bow'd head, an c* wearied frame, 
 
 I wonder'd whence that gentle creature came, 
 
 Like a child wonder'd, while I never thought 
 
 That the fair vision brought the hope I sought. 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 109 
 
 My mind was weaken'd dull the working brain, 
 And numb'd was reason by the sense of pain : 
 Till, like the twilight o'er the moonless waste, 
 A dim slow thought across my spirit past : 
 That creature to the desert wild had come 
 By careless rovings from a pasture home ; 
 On the soft sand, all breezeless then, each pace 
 Of its swift movements plainly I could trace ; 
 The soil seem'd stable, and the footprints clear, 
 And dawning hope with light of day drew near ; 
 Some verdant spot, thought whisper'd, I might gair 
 Ere brought the sun its noon of fever'd pain. 
 
 And then once more on Zillah, as she slept, 
 I look'd, and saw in slumber that she wept ; 
 And though I heard short sighs of failing breath 
 Yet part her lips, methought she slept in death ; 
 For the still look, so wearied, sad, and pale, 
 Could not the framework's inner weakness veil. 
 How could I leave her ? leave her there to die 
 In the lone moments when I stood not by ? 
 How could I leave her ? Yet the young fawn's track 
 The wild hope gave to win her worn strength back. 
 I breath'd her name : she waken'd, listen'd, smiled, 
 Then clasp'd her hands in pray'r and rapture wild 
 And on the deer's swift track she bade me speed, 
 And bring back food and water for her need. 
 And I, I left her, and the creature raced 
 On to the rocks, where I its quick steps chased ; 
 Yet as I chased, look'd back, alas ! to see 
 If Zillah hoped, she did but hope for me. 
 For, lo ! she wept, and drooping, bow'd her head 
 When I too far to dry those tears had fled. 
 And my steps falter'd, fear arose on fear, 
 Swift as the sand winds their storm-atoms rear. 
 
110 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 But the gazelle sprang downwards through a cleft 
 
 Of the dark rocks, their rugged barriers left ; 
 
 Thence to small spots of herbage I discern'd, 
 
 In the far distance, playfully she turn'd. 
 
 With flying steps I follow'd, till I stood 
 
 Midst stunted shrubs, light grasses, underwood ; 
 
 While farther onwards thicker foliage grew, 
 
 With berries hung, and flow'rs of brilliant hue ; 
 
 And, brightly clear, a springlet ran between 
 
 Two endless plains of fresh and verdant green. 
 
 In very joy, I wept the sight to see, 
 
 In very joy bent down the stubborn knee, 
 
 And praised yon Heav'n the first time since I fled 
 
 From my past home, the once home of the dead. 
 
 Lost was the sense of peril, crime, and pain ; 
 
 I only felt that life was mine again, 
 
 And Zillah mine, to wend life's paths with me, 
 
 And on that path my loved lone solace be. 
 
 God ! it hath been so ! Zillah even yet 
 
 Shares my dark lot, betraying no regret, 
 
 Shares the deep taunt, the bitter biting word, 
 
 Yet not one plaint from her pale lips is heard ; 
 
 Bears the sharp shame of all my guiltiness, 
 
 Yet cleaves to me throughout my soul's distress. 
 
 But, oh ! my God ! though Thou hast left one thing 
 
 To which, through mankind's hatred, I can cling, 
 
 Yet ev'n she fails to soothe each bitter thought 
 
 That with the memory of my guilt is fraught ; 
 
 Still are its terrors round my sick soul girt, 
 
 Still o'er my mind their power they assert ; 
 
 There, there, with scorpion fangs my heart within 
 
 Remorse yet rends, the once dread prey of sin ; 
 
 Its life still lingering by God's will alone, 
 
 Else had its strength been by grief's pangs o'erthrown. 
 
 Far from my path Heaven's guiding light is gone, 
 
 Earth yields for me no riches to the sun ; 
 
CAIN AND SATAN. 1 1 I 
 
 A brother's blood hath justly cursed the ground, 
 And marked the brow that darkens those around. 
 Too weak to hide the mind's work of within, 
 My Zillah's droops with sorrow, mine with sin ; 
 While ev'n my child's sweet looks begin to pine, 
 And shadow back the gloom they watch in mine. 
 And men shrink from me, in God-stricken fear, 
 As though I were a thing their sight to sear. 
 I am, I am, of things and men accurst 
 My crime, my doom, my tortures are the worst ! 
 
 God ! it is right it is so ! it is right 
 My guilty soul should feel sin's deepest blight ; 
 Yet midst its darkness one hope feebly lives, 
 Whose pallid light one ray of comfort gives. 
 Shrinking from sin, yet Heaven-forsaken still, 
 Nor word nor vision tells me of God's will ; 
 But the low murmurings of the voice I hear 
 Which in the grasp of Satan calmed each fear, 
 And lent to me a mighty spirit strength, 
 That with my Maker won the strife at length. 
 Still its sweet accents whisper to my heart, 
 "Though whilst on earth from Him thou stand'st 
 
 apart, 
 
 And may not hear again His guiding voice, 
 And never more can in his peace rejoice ; 
 Unheard by Heaven, though prayers and sighs of pain 
 Seem to fall back on thy crush'd soul again, 
 Still there is hope ! That dazzling scene of light, 
 The flame-winged Sun's life-giving zenith flight, 
 The sin-corruption of a lost world healed, 
 And life in death of its dry dust revealed ; 
 Strong faith revived hope's dictates to fulfil, 
 And doomed thee not unto the Lost One's will. 
 Then trust thou yet when comes thine hour of need, 
 Though dark its advent, in the Promised Seed ; 
 
112 CAIN AND SATAN. 
 
 That one belief for thee shall span the skies, 
 And bring far mercies present to thine eyes." 
 To that lone voice I listen, Lord of Light ! 
 And cherish hope throughout my worn soul's night 
 Like the first star, that in a storm-clear'd sky 
 Heralds bright sisters, though they seem not nigh, 
 That will in time with their lone leader shine, 
 Earth-shadow'd not, but lit by light divine : 
 So points to mercies far beyond the goal 
 An earthly death can give man's wearied soul 
 Faith's twilight ray, which, o'er dark seas of care, 
 Glows through the midnight of my soul's despair. 
 
 Printed by C. H. CLARKE, 48, Paternoster Row.