THE DOOM OP SAUL 
 
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 OTHERIPDEMS
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
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 ...   A /'^•^. . ",-, .
 
 THE DOOM OF SAUL 
 
 (FRAGMENTS OF AN EPIC) 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 ALFRED H. YINE. 
 
 ALL BIGHTS BESERVED. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HORACE MARSHALL & SON, 
 
 TEMPLE HOUSE, TEMPLE AVENUE, 
 
 AND 
 
 125, FLEET STREET, E.G. 
 1895.
 
 CHATHAM : 
 W. & J. Mackay & Co., "Obskrvkr" Works.
 
 PR 
 5703 
 
 V75ct. 
 
 To MY Love 
 AND Greatest Friend, 
 
 MY WIFE, 
 I Dedicate this Book. 

 
 From her dark mooring under the jetty- 
 Loose we our galley that strains with the tide, 
 
 Head for the harbour's luminous broadway, 
 Halfway these tremulous shadows divide. 
 
 Sit you as captain holding the tiller : 
 Docile our boat travels under the yoke, 
 
 Crosses alert the hill's dark reflection : — 
 Midnight turned morning there at a stroke ! 
 
 See high above us, burning intensely. 
 Altars of seraphim, crest after crest ; 
 
 Now round the headland, steering her deftly, 
 Mightily flashes the glory suppressed ! 
 
 Dances the prow on a golden commotion, 
 Under the stern there is blue lazuli, 
 
 Overhead flaunt imperial awnings, 
 
 Amber and gold, all the clouds of the sky ! 
 
 Beams of the sun and the sea aureole you, 
 
 Cro"\vn you with jewels blown out of the west ! 
 
 Frolic of hair, of ribbon and feather, 
 Flutter of kerchief, and ruffle of vest. 
 
 Play of the boat that sways in the dazzle, 
 Eush of the pinions of gulls that fly home, 
 
 Eapidly wheeling, darting, and curving, 
 Wash of the water and curl of the foam —
 
 All interpose Avith touches mesmeric, 
 
 Veil and remove you from positive view ; 
 
 Set in a realm of sceptical fancy 
 
 One whom aforetime so surely I knew. 
 
 Queen are you, sea born ? sea throned ? Or, rather, 
 A dream-bird, joy-crested, loved of the sun ? 
 
 Poised there so lightly, will you take wing, then. 
 Fly to some Arcady when the day's done ?— 
 
 See the brave Archer raining his gold shafts, 
 Kindling the forest, and lighting the leaf ! 
 
 Prodigal he this ultimate moment — 
 
 Sped the last arrow of all the full sheaf ! 
 
 So we pull homeward in a rich gloaming, 
 Blossom and fruit of an apricot sky : 
 
 Calm now are winds and Avings and the water — 
 Calm too are you as the tiller you ply. 
 
 Are you a bird, or cerulean queen, love, 
 
 Shimmering, fleeting, and cheating my life ? 
 
 Other, far better, this many a bright moon ! — 
 you are my sAveetheart, you are my wife ! 
 
 Manchester, 1894-
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 The Doom of Saui 
 
 The Coming of David. 
 
 Michal. 
 
 Jonathan. 
 
 The Crisis of Saul. 
 
 Endor. 
 
 Lament of David. 
 
 The Months 
 
 Balaam 
 
 Balaam's Dream. 
 Balaam's Apology. 
 Judgment of Moses. 
 
 A XVIth Centory Puppet Showman ... 
 Death of John the Baptist. 
 Jeptha and His Maid. 
 
 SoLOMOX Senescens 
 
 The Wedding Garment 
 
 Legend of S. Christopher 
 
 At the Ford. 
 
 S. Christopher and the Child. 
 
 The Departure. 
 
 I WILL Srp WITH Him 
 
 C(EDMON 
 
 Bezaleel 
 
 A London Artisan ... 
 
 pages 
 1-34 
 
 35—58 
 59—73 
 
 74-95 
 
 93—101 
 102—105 
 106—113 
 
 lU— 116 
 117— lis 
 119—120 
 121—123
 
 Vlll. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Fate, Law, and Christ 
 Gethsemane ... 
 
 Moloch 
 
 The Poacher ... 
 
 In Memoriam ... 
 
 Lord Tennyson 
 
 The Voice in the Wilderness 
 
 Versicles. John i,, 1 — 11... 
 
 The Two Faces 
 
 A Hymn . 
 
 Homeward 
 
 A Bruised Reed 
 
 124—128 
 129—130 
 131—134 
 135-137 
 138—139 
 14a 
 141—142 
 143—144 
 145—146 
 147—148 
 149—150 
 151—152
 
 THE DOOM OF SAUL 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS.
 
 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 THE COMING OF DAVID. 
 
 Hk came, as light might break at eventide ; 
 
 Or spring in winter stir ; 
 Or fountain start in deserts wide ; 
 
 Or far sail gleam to shipwrecked mariner. 
 
 And winter-jDrisoned hope came forth and laughed 
 
 In his brave presence sunned ; 
 "While sorrow now the spice-cup Cjuaffed, 
 
 That many a day her Avithered lips had shunned 
 
 He had the incommunicable grace 
 
 That nature gives and God ; 
 A blended charm of soul and face — 
 
 Unction of heaven and of the earth he trod. 
 
 The freedom of the wind — the verve of flame — 
 
 A planetary calm — 
 The tenderness of clouds that frame 
 
 The sun's decline — the rapture of a psalm 
 
 Breathed from the lips of day that wakes anew — 
 
 And the sincerity 
 Of noontide's deepest farthest blue — 
 
 "Withal, betimes, midnight's austerity : — 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 These nature gave. God gave the seer's eyes, 
 
 And the son's loyal heart, 
 A soul to hear the harmonies 
 
 Of heaven and earth, the part and counterpart, 
 
 And yet new harmonies to meditate, 
 
 On a more perfect plan. 
 When comes, Avhat earth and heaven await — 
 
 And God himself — the full sweet song of Man. 
 
 A darkness fell upon King Saul, darkness 
 
 Disturbed by light— a quivering gloom, as when 
 
 A chariot's wheels revolve against the full 
 
 Clear moon that rises in a vale, and make 
 
 A throbbing shadow. Pulsed thus doubtfully, 
 
 In rarer intervals, the better mind : 
 
 And less the good he would he did, and less 
 
 The bad he feared escaped, and more and more 
 
 His nobler purposes were disannulled. 
 
 Till the most settled laws of right were glossed ; 
 
 As by a foolish scribe a palimpsest 
 
 Is scrawled, in mere caprice, with other themes, 
 
 Or insolent, or sinister, or vile. 
 
 Treason against himself he Avrought ; but men 
 
 The usurpation mourned without avail. 
 
 Th' apothecaries, rarely foiled in art, 
 
 Compared and then combined their lore in vain, 
 
 Their skill not having any mastery. 
 
 For neither aloe branches shrewdly placed,
 
 THE COMING OF DAVID. 
 
 Xor the dread hemlock strewn, nor frankincense, 
 
 Nor hellebore, nor red mandragora, 
 
 Xor the bright soothing asphodel, nor moly 
 
 White-blossoming, had virtue for the need. 
 
 For he forsook the converse of the house 
 
 And fell from all his kingly habitude. 
 
 Until men mused if ever Saul had been, 
 
 Who, fronting heaven Avith open brow, bore still 
 
 The signet of God's peace, in privacy. 
 
 In council chamber and in war ; so raged 
 
 In passion-bursts, from room to room, or stalked 
 
 Abroad the stark yoke-fellow of the storm, 
 
 Or in presageful silence darkling fumed. 
 
 Another Saul, whom men knew not, nor could 
 
 Foresee. The priest, and mighty man, and man 
 
 Of war, the ancient, and the counsellor. 
 
 With talk of the behoof of kings approached, — 
 
 Of custom, use and need ; or sought to cast, 
 
 As 'twere from invisible hands, the rein 
 
 Of soft dissuasives o'er him — health and peace, 
 
 Children by the throne, the lustre of his name — 
 
 Conjured him to resume his royal mood, 
 
 Nor let himself go drift, upon a wide and weary sea, 
 
 Into the night. But at the last spake one, 
 
 Whose speech was slow and had a calmness in't. 
 
 Choosing the time — like as a woman seeks 
 
 To turn the edge of hardness in a man, 
 
 Just as the twilight falls— ami " my king," 
 
 Said he, " not always can the swift stag run 
 
 His course ; nor always can the eagle soar ;
 
 THP] DOO:\r OF SAUL, 
 
 The wind will sleep sometimes on Lebanon ; 
 
 The sun his going down, the clearest moon 
 
 Her season knoweth ; — yea, and the vast world 
 
 Pauseth in labours prodigal, when fade 
 
 The flower and leaf, when russet fruits are stored, 
 
 And the dark vine-juice bubbles in the vat. 
 
 So thou, king — the greatness of thy way 
 
 Hath wearied thee. Yea, 'tis a noble thing, 
 
 To feel the task's nobility. Heavy thy toil ! 
 
 Nor wilt thou stay thine hand, while scattered wide 
 
 In all the cloudy and dark day of wrong. 
 
 The nation cries to thee for shepherding. 
 
 Yet solace must Saul have, though but a cup 
 
 Of water by the way — a cordial if 
 
 The spirit faint — wain's harness just unlaced — 
 
 Then grip the bow and spear again ! And we, 
 
 Thy servants, have bethought how dear to thee 
 
 Is the sweet sound of lute or voice ; and God 
 
 Hath formed one for this ministry, a youth 
 
 All simple as the sheep he tends, but skilled 
 
 To play and sing, as sang the morning stars, 
 
 When God first made the great world's goodliness. 
 
 So that (men say) all trouble fleeth as 
 
 A dream, and we forget the face of foes. 
 
 The pain of wounds, our sorrow for the lost. 
 
 All jars of statecraft, and the cares that come 
 
 As birds that darkly fly across the fields, 
 
 "When light is low, and grey is all the world : — 
 
 So soothes his song ; as Avhen the body's bathed 
 
 Upon its weariness, and in soft linen lapped
 
 THE COMING OF DAVID. 
 
 While slumber lightly falls, mildly anoints, 
 
 Loosens each sinew strained, and smooths the flesh. 
 
 Thus from the bath of these sweet sounds, the mind 
 
 Emerges, and so rests awhile, till now, 
 
 Refreshed, she lifts her head again to see, 
 
 Shining in clearer air, the life's high prize. — 
 
 Thereto, the youth is wise, and hath a face 
 
 Fashioned as if to make men think of God." 
 
 So Saul sent messengers to Bethlehem 
 
 With royal mandate charged — " Jesse, hail ! 
 
 Thy son, the shepherd, let him come to me." 
 
 Him found they sitting on a bulk of rock 
 
 That jutted squarely from the curving hill, 
 
 Like ruined castle of the Xephilim. 
 
 On either side was half a league of slope, 
 
 Damasked with many flowers, red and blue. 
 
 That not alone the tui-f diversified. 
 
 But scaled the cliff, and hung their glowing fronds. 
 
 Banners of joy, from many a sullen crag. 
 
 And round the windy hill the white flock grazed, 
 
 Their fleeces blown back like a sea of foam : 
 
 But hence he led them, when the evening fell, 
 
 With harp strains, to the quiet fold. 
 
 Now when 
 The archers came with summons from the king. 
 They looked to see in him rustic amaze. 
 Mingled with fear, to stand before great Saul. 
 But, after due obeisance made, he turned 
 On them a gaze so calm and clear, so fixed 
 Yet innocent, that less they wondered at
 
 8 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 The morning beauty of the face they saw, 
 Than at the steady poise of mind unmoved. 
 And afterward would men this proverb say — 
 *' That, whoso standeth oft before the Lord, 
 Shall have no need to quail before the king. 
 So David came and touched his magic harp, 
 And sang of the great order of the world, 
 Until the king's ears Avere attuned to hear 
 Xong-hidden harmonies ; and obscured hopes 
 Hevived, and he beheld himself once more 
 Upon the topmost crest of God's designs. — 
 
 Where are they now, who lifting vp standards of battle, 
 
 Gath'ring assailed tis in long succession of cohorts. 
 
 Bank on rank like the inexhaustible ocean. 
 
 When the tides gather fidl loilh the moon and the sundoivn ? 
 
 Now with a roar, and with myriad white flumes of onset, 
 
 Fierce flash the loaves der outlying shingle and boulders, 
 
 Gleaming a moment against dark hollows of caverns, 
 
 Then beaten hack in turmoil by the main cliffs opposing ; 
 
 Till the wide sea is blanched by the spume of the breakers. 
 
 Now comes the sunshine — gold once again on the headland ! 
 
 See ! neither breach nor rent in the lofty embrasiire ; 
 
 So from their dark haunts they swarmed in days that are past us, 
 
 — Edom and Moab proudly icith Amalek banding ; 
 
 So they broke in their tumult, and vanished, pursued by 
 
 Laughter and scorn of the virgin, the daughter of Zion. 
 
 IIo ! from the north and the south come forth icilh your armies ! 
 
 Yet shall ye be as the untimely fruit of a woman ! 
 
 For God, yea, our own God shall help us, yea, save us right early!
 
 MICHAL. 
 
 Song. 
 
 When first my love confessed she loved 
 She spake not one melodious word ; 
 
 But with her eyes 
 
 Said, " arise 
 Sweetheart of mine, and be my lord." 
 
 I took her hand and touched her lips — 
 Of such a shining character, 
 
 Love hath no need, 
 
 The lore to read, 
 An audible interpreter. 
 
 So moved each heart to other then, 
 Ev'n as two dewdrops trembling near, 
 
 By influence SAveet, 
 
 Each other greet, 
 And coalesce in one bright sphere. 
 
 Now oft in silence do we sit, 
 
 The flow of soul with soul to keep : 
 
 For speech is yet 
 
 A rivulet ; 
 But silence is the boundless deep. 
 
 ■" 'Tis true — not tall as some — not as a palm 
 Or fir tree ; but as an oak, or terebinth.
 
 10 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 Whose height doth not surprise you, though the form 
 
 With strength and shapeliness the eye contents : — 
 
 While as a cedar grown upon the slopes 
 
 Of southern Lebanon our father seems. 
 
 For lo ! the sunlight strikes upon the crown, 
 
 And bathes the sweep of its dark emerald, 
 
 Yet rarely reaches to the inner gloom, 
 
 Flushing the central prop with tides of day. 
 
 Wherefore I made this song when David came : —   
 
 " The cedar stands alone for worship. Sing 
 
 maidens, sing Jehovah's right-hand plant ! 
 
 And for your love maidens choose the oak ! 
 
 Sitting beneath, ye catch the blue of heaven, 
 
 And sifted glory through the golden leaves ! " 
 
 So sang I to myself for many days. 
 
 Before that love had found the voice of love, 
 
 Or dared to own itself. 
 
 I little thought 
 Such love could grow between us, at the first. 
 For when the tidings stole about the house 
 That one was come, a shepherd from the hills. 
 To soothe with harp the King's mind nigh distraught- 
 And in the fear that fell upon us .then 
 Hushed were all other sounds, — hearing the twang 
 Of strings I moving softly to the door 
 Through the disparted curtains saw the harp 
 Trembling, and then the hands supple and strong 
 That smote it, then at times the head bowed low 
 With waves of red-brown hair that caught the lisht 
 
 •o*^ 
 
 Glowing in all dishevelment. The face
 
 MICHAL. 11 
 
 I could not fully see, or had not feared. 
 Ah, the harp ! the voice ! joining, following 
 Now one the other, into chords so sweet 
 That, unaAvares the heart was caught, and had 
 No will, and chose to have no will, but still 
 To fasten to the lips of sound. He sang 
 Of birds, their nesting times, their brooding wings ; 
 Of trees that grow so fair to God ; of winds. 
 As angels from a country far that brought 
 Glad tidings ; and of rivers wdth their streams 
 From founts of comfort flowing down. But last 
 He sang of hills, and hollows, clouds and sky. 
 And turned it so, as if God bade the King 
 From peak to peak of great achievement move ; 
 " Nor heed " he cried " the dragons crouched among 
 The rocks. Or if he rise from his dark lair, 
 And thou must strive, as in the days of old 
 Fought Michael the archangel — hut thyself, 
 Or prey or prize, — fear not my King ! thy God 
 Shall then deliver thee ! the heavens shall bend 
 In pity all their power ! yea, though thou fall 
 In the fierce grapple for thy soul, fear not. 
 The dragon shall be under thee, Saul." 
 At " under thee " I thought to see the harp 
 Flash fire, so mightily he struck the chords ; 
 Then ceased, while his clear voice went on alone 
 Down sinking in the heart at the name " Saul." 
 But when I heard the deep sighs of the King 
 As of a wounded man in pain who will 
 Not show his pain, I marvelled at the man
 
 12 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 And his strange minstrels}'-, as if he scarce 
 Were man. Though, after, that voice spiritual. 
 Wrestling with all the demons of the air, 
 Brought comfort only, more familiar grown. — 
 Then once or twice in the broad vestibule 
 We chanced to meet — so that I knew him fair, 
 Serene, and gracious as a summer da}'. 
 But love — I scarce had thought of love a moon ago. 
 
 That day returning mid the shout 
 Of a great multitude, the sound of horns 
 Drum-beat and cymbal, rain of flowers, he marched 
 With foot elastic as the roe's, yet firm. 
 We two were foremost in a bunch of maids 
 I' the open way : — I said to Merab, * See, 
 His gait is as a prince's, fearing nought, 
 Yet asking eyes of none ' — to pleasure her. 
 But ill content she seemed. The deed I praised, 
 She answered carelessly — ' chance, belike.' 
 Then I : ' Such men and happy chances meet ! ' 
 Whereat with sudden heat she flushed and frowned 
 *No happy chance that flings him thus on me.' 
 We ceased ; but in my heart I mused, ' this chance 
 Still hovers o'er with Aving imperial. 
 And has not settled on its golden nest ' — 
 (My bird, my phoenix of the sky and sun !) 
 Specially, too, because in passing he 
 Looked keenly on me, with so fixed a glance 
 As no one else were by. 
 
 Not often had 
 We met, when on a day (0 rainbow day !)
 
 MICHAL. 13 
 
 While as I lingered in the inner porch 
 
 That darkens to the court-yard, where the white 
 
 Light beats among the oleanders, he 
 
 Passing to audience, touched my hands and left 
 
 A lotus there, culled from some brimming pool. 
 
 then I knew — 
 
 And so it Avas that when 
 He sang at our espousals, how the moon 
 AVas mated with the sun, and all the stars 
 Were damsels in her train — since love, he said 
 Was ever law in heaven, I, half ashamed, 
 Told him my song. A moment he perused 
 My face (nay— 'tis as if he comes to you 
 Himself, searching and entering hy his eyes. — 
 My father has a sapphire ring that seems 
 Quick wdth a spirit, so alive and clear 
 With darting tendernesses doth it shine. 
 But it is not so blue.) Then laughed a laugh 
 Joyous as spring, and caught me in his arms 
 And triply kissed. 
 
 And so my tree is mine."
 
 JONATHAN. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Make fast my heart to thine ! 
 For I shall need a friend 
 At any day's dark end, 
 
 AVhen stars forsret to shine. 
 
 Make fast my heart to thine ! 
 
 O set me as a seal 
 
 Upon thine arm and heart ! 
 
 So last from me to part, 
 Though time all else shall steal ! 
 set me as a seal ! 
 
 be my convoy dear ! 
 For lone the wide sea is 
 Between that life and this : 
 
 Thy signal flag shall cheer ! 
 
 be my convoy dear ! 
 
 So might we hapl}^ gain 
 
 At once the unknown strand ! 
 
 And there walk hand in hand 
 Brothers at home remain — 
 If hajjly land we gain ! 
 
 blessed bondage of two equal men ! 
 
 When each doth throne the other in his heart
 
 JONATHAN. 15 
 
 Crowning him with his chiefest crown of love. 
 
 And serve him in that undisturbed domain 
 
 With oft-repeated ritual of praise ; 
 
 While mutual faith doth guard the doors without, 
 
 Lest Jealousy or Envy, liveried 
 
 As Truth — twin bastards of self-love — approach 
 
 To secret stab the heart's dear sovereign. 
 
 Blest such, as knowing they are worshipful 
 
 One to the other ; for so must either, 
 
 Being true-hearted, seek to be indeed 
 
 Such as his friend conceives, and by the cords 
 
 Of love, threefold, be ever drawn to be 
 
 Incorporate with that same nobleness ; 
 
 While on the baser self the mark of Cain 
 
 He sets. 
 
 Your forms, ye Twain, the troubled disc 
 Pass o'er of times and seasons long ago. 
 Softening the rude scene. By storm and gloom 
 Pursued — the clouds high-toppling, underlai^ped 
 With thunder — do ye come in fearfulness : 
 But, whereso'er ye meet, God parts the clouds. 
 Letting a glory fall upon your heads. 
 
 From Naioth unto Gibeah of Saul 
 
 Fled David, as a deer hard-jDressed turns home. 
 
 In a shy haunt by Ezel waited he 
 
 Through the vast hours of darkness for the daj^ — 
 
 The day that broke with cloud on cloud, but low 
 
 In the East a rosebud light, that lingered — 
 
 Yet with the morn durst not break covert, lest
 
 16 THE DOOM OF SAUL, 
 
 Night-woven meshes snare him, and the trees 
 And shrubs surprise, or dusky hollows teem 
 With sudden-crawling hirelings of the King. 
 
 NoAv as the day grew blank he heard the]whizz 
 Of arrows, and the voice of Jonathan 
 Call loudly to the lad that came with him — 
 " further yet afield ! Beyond thee, boy !" — 
 The signal of their dark fears ratified ! 
 Then in the heart of David died all light, 
 For now remained no other thing than this — 
 To wander forth alone through all the grey 
 And tedious years ; of noble fellowship 
 Bereft, despoiled of honour and of peace. 
 Wan grew the lips of Hope and could not speak. 
 But in a while, the lad dismissed with bow 
 And archer's gear, while Jonathan abode, 
 Wistful yet fearful, if that he might glean 
 Some token of his friend from shrouding bush 
 Or baffling rock, and so wave silently 
 A farewell from afar, David arose 
 In very Death's despite, and boAved himself 
 Before the prince. Then either strong man wept, 
 And kissed the other in love's lavishment : 
 For now the great tide of time's circumstance 
 They saw divide their soul's communion : 
 Broken the intercourse of golden years ! 
 Closed the inspiring vision each of each ! 
 Sealed now the fountains of replenishment. 
 That yielded oft renewal of heart-ease. 
 Or filled the mind Avith truth once more
 
 JONATHAN. 17 
 
 As from deep wells of wisdom. 
 
 At the last 
 Spake Jonathan : "0 brother we have sworn 
 By height and depth before the Lord ; nor time, 
 Nor chance, nor fate, compel disloyalty. 
 Therefore in my just thought of thee rest thou. 
 As in an embayed harbourage, Avhere God 
 Makes smooth the waters with his breath — there float 
 Mild sea-birds, sailors sing, though all without 
 The grey scud hurries Avith the shrieking wind. 
 Thou too shall be my human haven dear. —   
 But for the rest, thou art not shelterless ! 
 Wide as the world is that pavilion kind 
 Whose curtaining God draws round whom He loves. 
 I know God loves thee, friend. The print of grace 
 W^as visibly expressed in all thy shape, 
 From sunlike head to thy winged feet, when first 
 I saw thee home-returning, victor-crowned. 
 God in thee then I knew: to thee, elect, 
 I saw the heavenly signature affixed. 
 No thanks to me, Avho did but note and say 
 " Praised be God " — what else 1 — Between His choice 
 And man's review was no disseverance ; — 
 But God was justified in thee to all. 
 What if I noted the sign manual 
 Of God, with quicker eyes than some 1 this 
 Was my reward, that as a prophet I 
 Might freely herald it, the first of all — 
 And link myself for aye with God and thee : 
 For leagues of land and the long various years 
 
 c
 
 18 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 Can never now divorce our names : In thee 
 Shall I have honour, length of days, and God. 
 Yea — God at last ! when all the devious course 
 Is traversed, and the unknown close is reached, 
 Then shall a Face from out the dark greet mine, 
 Not unfamiliar, seeing I know thee. 
 
 Meanwhile in this entanglement of life 
 I have no skill to steer by any star 
 Save the one star of truth. I follow this. 
 
 But my father ! — darkly do I scan 
 Thy fateful way. Stricken of God art thou, 
 And I in thee am stricken, as He wills ! 
 Yet would He have me in thy westering path 
 Stand at thy side in offices of love, 
 To represent Him noAv awhile withdrawn. — 
 So may the smiting healing be at last ! 
 Then I shall wind my arms about thee close 
 When He shall strike the final judgment stroke — 
 Of healing, father — and a little blunt 
 The sharpness ; and so pass to that dim goal. 
 Where doubtless doth some bright surprise await." 
 
 So murmured Jonathan grief-laden words. 
 
 Then looked they with exceeding steadfastness 
 In one another's eyes, until sorrow 
 Dislimned sorrow's self and blotted out 
 Their cognizance in tears. Then with a low 
 "God keep thee, brother," either went his way.
 
 THE CRISIS OF SAUL. 
 
 Ah, who may abide 
 
 The Day of His Coming ? 
 
 The Day of Consuming 
 
 Who may abide ? 
 Who may behold Him 
 Vestured in purity ? 
 Who may security 
 
 Find, if He chide ? 
 
 Who may confront Him 
 The Judge of the Ages ? 
 Who shall, life's pages 
 
 Perusing, be bold 1 
 Who shall withstand Him ? 
 Raise up a mutiny ? 
 Question the scrutiny 
 
 He shall unfold ? 
 
 Who may accuse Him 
 The Holy, the Equal ? 
 The verdict, the sequel 
 
 Who shall dispute 1 
 If He condemn us 
 Our hearts Avill not clamour, 
 Our tongues will not stammer 
 
 We shall be mute ! 
 
 *' The night is all thatched down with mirk : no star 
 
 verb 
 c2 
 
 Glints out beneath the overhanging eaves
 
 20 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 Of all the whole round roof of heaven ! Alas, 
 So hides He utterly from whom He set, 
 And published leader of the broken tribes, 
 ^y me to be compacted, disciplined 
 Into a front impregnable against 
 The aliens ! Such eminence I shunned : 
 Nor, with raw eagerness, as others, clutched 
 Some wandering chance — much less my footsteps hewed, 
 By craft and labour, in the risky steep 
 Throne-topped. But all was as He would. His hand 
 Propelled me from calm pastoral employ, 
 Who now degrades, makes abject before all. 
 Why, having led with hand peremptory. 
 And thrust into the thick of stratagems. 
 Flouts He my kingship, and constrains to crawl, 
 Leaving no inch where I may judgment use 
 Of what is fittest to the time, and new 
 Complexion of the thing ? I, giving charge 
 To Abner, " Go on this emprize," do not 
 So straiten him in the command, but that 
 He shall be free to swerve from the strict line — 
 A little swerve — if that the end be reached : 
 Not only that a hundred things may hap 
 To change the prudence of the ways and means, 
 But that the man's soul be not manacled. 
 And if the bulk be gained, I trouble not 
   For husk and dust of mere exactitude — 
 Though yet, at times, for policy, I say 
 That thus, and thus alone, a thing be done. 
 Fearing men fail in reverence for the King.
 
 THE CRISIS OF SAUL. 21 
 
 But Him no fear of questioned rule assails. 
 
 Yet, lo ! in nicest balances He Aveighs 
 
 To me, me Saul, m}'- task a tale of work — 
 
 Bids me give curious heed to note, amid 
 
 The stormy plunder of a cursed tribe, 
 
 The scruple less or more of done — not done. 
 
 Thus curbs me with minute restrictiveness. 
 
 As lion in the hunter's pit and net. 
 
 What time the winter hunger makes him fain. 
 
 Crossed were the trivial bounds : yet heedfully — 
 With reason, T allege. But He marks not. 
 
 And when I knew that He was wroth with me, 
 Did I stint sacrifice 1 Nay, to repair 
 The flaws in my obedience, I searched 
 How I might serve Him with excess ; so set 
 Free homage on the counter side : for this, 
 Have I lain prostrate, bare on the bare ground, 
 The livelong night, beneath the astonished stars. 
 But He marks not. His prophets have I sought. 
 Bidding them use their utmost arts to learn 
 The secret of propitiation — scan 
 The Urim for the light I need — omit 
 No nicety of worship, or of rite. 
 Thus would I, crouching, make amends for all, 
 Softly attend Him. But He marks me not : 
 Silent He passes on His mighty way. 
 Deaf to all pleas, disdainfully averse. 
 More than the captive craves for his release. 
 More than the mourner watches for the morn, 
 More than the lover longeth for the bride.
 
 22 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 Long I, in this prodigious void of life, 
 
 This wide distended dumbness of the heavens, 
 
 Swelling with judgment, for the voice of God. — 
 
 Speak, though Thou curse me, and Thy cursing rives 
 My soul as lightning rives the oak — yet speak ! 
 Speak Holy One ! Thou God of Samuel ! 
 Thou Lord and God of David hear Thy Saul ! 
 (Alas Thy David is it, not Thy Saul !) 
 
 If yet He will not hear in this extreme. 
 And there be ways, ways of the dusk and stealth, 
 By which a King may haply gain access. 
 And secret hear — what harm in secrecy ? — 
 The undivulged decree of heaven, though with 
 Increase of doom ; then would I rather bear 
 The charge and surcharge of law's strictest mulct. 
 Than so, in common, grossest ignorance. 
 Writhe like a wretched blind-worm in the dark." 
 
 Thus in the darkness ruminating stood 
 King Saul, and with an evil industry 
 The mesh of falsehood spread to catch his soul ; 
 Then doffed his lioyal raiment, and in cloak 
 Sordid and unemblazoned, wrapped his form, 
 The towering helmet on his grizzled locks 
 Eeplaced by leathern cap, a naked sword, 
 Eeady for sudden deed, in his right hand. 
 So fared forth stooping, shrunken, vigilant. 
 With foot of fox threading Philistia's camp 
 All unalert, and heard the midnight shout 
 Of thunder as of captains in the heavens.
 
 THE CRISIS OF SAUL. 23 
 
 And the swish of a great rain resounding, 
 As when the rapid whips of charioteers 
 Are plied in onset — heard and feared, and yet 
 Eeturn more feared : — so moodily passed on, 
 To seek mid bowers of hemlock and henbane, 
 The AAritch, with puckered face and parched skin. 
 As of brown lizard, who at Endor dwelt, 
 Fatal in ancient story, and there wrought 
 Her worst in spells, in charms, and devilry.
 
 ENDOR 
 
 1. 
 
 All the kind stars are gone 
 
 To the last spark ! 
 Wind and the wave roll on 
 
 Together— Hark ! 
 To their unison dread, 
 As they cry underneath, overhead ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Captain, what of the night — 
 
 This night so dark '? 
 Dost thou sail in despite 
 
 Of heaven thy bark 
 In the fell hurricane 1 
 Canst thou hope the far haven to gain 
 
 3. 
 
 Who, sailor, thee shall save ? 
 
 Thine is no ark 
 Plunging through the black wave 
 
 Toward God's mark ! — 
 See the ship falls a wreck, 
 And thy pilot lies dead on the deck !
 
 ENDOll. 25 
 
 4. 
 
 On to the mid-sea rock 
 
 See the boat drifts ! 
 "Where the great tidal shock 
 
 Seething uplifts 
 A white passion of foam, 
 Thou dost find — is it God 1 is it home 1 
 
 A sound as of a thousand brazen thrones 
 
 Falling down endless chasms in the hills 
 
 Brake from the skies, and clanged with echoes long 
 
 From shore to shore, region to region far. 
 
 Then murm'ring failed from the extremest sense, 
 
 And heaven and earth were soundless as the deep 
 
 Below the deep of the wide sea ; when Saul — 
 
 Ev'n as a stag sore wounded swaying turns 
 
 To sniff the scent of flushed hounds following. 
 
 Then totters to the thicket to lie down, 
 
 Until the hunter's final horn arouse — 
 
 One moment on the ridge of Shunem stood, 
 
 With strained glance looking southward Avavering, 
 
 Adread, forespent, and full of mighty care ; 
 
 Yet not so careful of life's better part, 
 
 As now to grasp at its retreating clue, 
 
 And hold to it through darkness and through all. 
 
 Then gat he down the hill, nor turned again ; 
 
 But with his servants wearily went on. 
 
 Until he stumbled o'er a barren slope, 
 
 Leprous with stones innumerable, scaled
 
 26 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 From the cliff by the winter frost and rain, 
 
 And found beneath a shelf of lichened rock 
 
 A hollow in the hill, and thence a cave. Hard by 
 
 A cypress grcAv and spindling tamarisk. 
 
 Root-bridled by the ruck of cromlech stones 
 
 That prone, or stand, or upright, round the lair 
 
 Confused the door. Here in recesses dank 
 
 Throve poison-shrubs Avith sullen purple bells. 
 
 Long-stalked tway-blossomed plants that looked askance. 
 
 All sallow as the belly of a snake, 
 
 With many a far-brought livid herb and thorn 
 
 And blotchy weed, with foul dew glistering. 
 
 One small lamp burning at the cave's far end, 
 Now entering from the pitchy night, they saw 
 ' Cast fitful glimmer on the garniture 
 Of hateful things upon the roof and walls 
 And rocky floor — unheard of efts with huge 
 Distended gills and horns, and creatures squab, 
 Misshapen, misbegotten — or alive 
 Or mummied, or in images. Here dwelt 
 A sorceress of Canaanitish race, 
 In whose veins ran the ichor of false gods : — 
 So old she was it seemed that wearing time 
 Had ceased to vex her with his changes more, 
 And men lost record of the years she lived, 
 "Whom fathers' fathers wondered at and feared. 
 Upon her wrist she wore an asp encurled, 
 That looked a stone until it blinked an eye 
 More stony than a stone ; and a long robe
 
 ENDOR. 27 
 
 Of ancient purple mixed her, as she moved, 
 
 "With shadows, save her face that peaked and grey 
 
 Showed as a meteor in a misty sky. 
 
 Wily she was and sinuous as a snake, 
 
 Winding round all supposed forbidden things, 
 
 Not having honest zeal to know, and in 
 
 That zeal knoAving no difference between 
 
 Clean and unclean, if only might be grasped 
 
 The whole of truth ; but lusting after power 
 
 Through knowledge sinister, conceived apart 
 
 From God ; and so familiarly to ply 
 
 Whatever bane or bale nature exudes 
 
 In form or essence. Deemed hex'self a c^ueen 
 
 In the realm partial, several, obscure 
 
 Where truth dips down through twilight to the deep, 
 
 That God sees ; but a slave far rather was 
 
 To phantoms and chimeras of the mind. 
 
 Now when the hooded King advanced, with mind 
 Razed blank of gracious records, furrowed o'er 
 With fears, and craved an audience with the dead, 
 In that great loneliness that now was his. 
 The witch screamed, as the white sea-osprey screams, 
 When a bold cragsman reaches overhead 
 His hand to search her eyrie perilous. 
 But when her fear was pacified, she wrought 
 By many arts to fall into a trance. 
 Now at the cavern's uttennost, the floor 
 Brake into depth no plummet ever reached ; 
 And at the brink she kindled incense, thick 
 With resinous gums and drugs, whereof the smoke
 
 28 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 In fluent lines drew upward to a spire, 
 
 While all the cave Avas filled with heady fume : 
 
 Next stooped and cried aloud into the depth, 
 
 Invoking the dead Samuel, and far 
 
 The hollow sound re-echoed underneath. 
 
 Now the smoke trembled o'er the pit in swaths, 
 
 Wavered in curls, gathered in draperies, 
 
 Or drawn by gentle currents nimbly moved 
 
 Inquiringly into each murky nook. 
 
 And still she crooned, and called on Samuel ; 
 
 And still the blue smoke Avavered into forms, 
 
 Whatever fancy pleased, or frenzy wished : 
 
 Until deceiving, and not less deceived, 
 
 She half believed, and wholly claimed she saw 
 
 The seer late passed into the peace of God — 
 
 Not now to be disturbed in that serene. 
 
 Then she not ignorant of policies 
 
 And cunnin'^i in the chances of the time, 
 
 As sailors in the changes of the wind, 
 
 With ventriloquial voice oracular 
 
 Gurgled forth forecasts of the coming fight, 
 
 While the lorn King was yielded to her will. 
 
 As a scared child in panic questions not 
 
 The words of ghostly terror nurses tell, 
 
 But greedily drinks down into his soul 
 
 All the dark fear ; so Saul undoubting heard 
 
 Each fearful syllable that sealed his doom, 
 
 Until he lost himself in dread, nor heard, 
 
 Nor saw, but seemed to wander evermore 
 
 In a dark avenue, dipi)ing to the west.
 
 ENDOR. 29 
 
 Hastening to follow Samuel "svho fled. 
 
 And when he caught him by his raiment's wings 
 
 Lo it was David with an angel's face ! 
 
 Then darkness utter, and no face at all, 
 
 Nor David's, Samuel's, nor Jonathan's ; 
 
 But in the dim path Aviklly still he went, 
 
 Cursing the sun gone down, asking for light — 
 
 Demanding light as God—" Let there be light" — 
 
 Or sobbing for it as one dungeon-held, 
 
 "Who knows that light and he have said farewell. 
 
 So stumbled into vacancy. 
 
 The witch, 
 "When she beheld the King thus desperate 
 And utterly foredone, was moved with fear, 
 Yea, and some pulses of the mother stirred 
 In her long withered breast, and ruth prevailed 
 To see him stretched as dead upon the ground, 
 Like a great column broken from its base. 
 Then raised they Tip the wan man tenderly, 
 Constraining him to eat awhile the bread 
 Of sorrow. 
 
 So departing ere the daAvn, 
 Saul saw great Tabor's peak at length divide 
 The clouds, and in the rifts and high above 
 Ages of depths, powdered with stars so fair 
 And far, and, as a ghost, the withered moon.
 
 DAVID'S LAMENT. 
 
 One night the bare dark ground of my sleep 
 
 Yielded a milk-white bloom 
 That grew to a Avorkl, where clothed with the light 
 
 One sat at a mighty loom. 
 
 High as the heavens the canvas rose, 
 
 Wide as the poles its span : — 
 And I knew that the weaver sitting there 
 
 Was weaving the life of man. 
 
 But dimly the weaver's work I saAv : 
 
 Blurred was the wondrous scheme : 
 Too vast was the scale for my human eyes : 
 
 Too bright the heavenly beam. 
 
 Then He, who wrought the picture rare, 
 
 Spake to me soft and low, 
 As the voice of infinite forest trees, 
 
 When the west winds come and go. 
 
 " One moment thou may'st stand by my side 
 
 And see as angels see. 
 And view in my light Avhat I do for men — 
 
 The light of Eternity." 
 
 Then I saw He held all mortal threads 
 
 In coloiu"s manifold ; 
 But ever there ran with each single strand 
 
 A thread of sun-bright gold.
 
 David's lament. 31 
 
 The moment passed as I heard His voice 
 " Time's web in love began ! 
 
 And the golden thread that thou seest is 
 The pity I have for man." 
 
 So David sat within the house and wept 
 For Saul and Jonathan. Before him lay- 
 On the divan the dead King's coronet 
 Brought by the false Amalekite, and torn 
 From the helm ; the gold armlet all embossed 
 And centred with a spheric jasper stone. 
 These mournfully regarding, David sighed : — 
 " Poor relics of thy Beauty, Israel ! 
 How oft this circlet blazed above war's i)ress ! 
 This jewel flashed at stroke of the strong arm, 
 Now nevermore to be uplift upon 
 God's enemies and ours ! A bulwark thou, 
 Saul, stood'st in this land through evil days, 
 When, like the growing tide still sucking force 
 From half -spent waves, the bands of Philistines 
 From Aroer and Gaza fiercely rolled. 
 Unto Jezreel : Yet thou undaunted drew. 
 Uniting by thy sole heroic mind, 
 The baffled units of our race, the weak. 
 Witless or desperate, and made them strong; 
 iSTay, in the course of discipline and law, 
 Thou didst lay sure the stones of settled rule 
 For after days, which God shall bring to pass. 
 Not fruitless then thy life ! — Ah, who shall say. 
 When the dread gates of Sheol yawn for all.
 
 32 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 That God hath had due vintage j^ear by year, 
 
 Harvest of field and flock, no plot un tilled. 
 
 Of all the fair estate he lent to each ? 
 
 For with the sun man goeth forth jocund 
 
 Unto life's work ; but wearies when his day 
 
 Declines. So thou, my king ! — Yea mine ! — This joy 
 
 I have to-day, that never did I lift 
 
 Or hand or voice against thee, in the years 
 
 When thou wast other than thyself : 
 
 Nor could forget how thou, magnanimous, 
 
 Did'st call me from the shade of shepherd life 
 
 Into the glory of thy own ; nor yet 
 
 With treasonable thought did dare to guess 
 
 How other things, heaven-willed, should come to be ; 
 
 Or sought with artifices fine the least 
 
 Enforcement of the providential plan. 
 
 For when God said to me — I knew not why — 
 
 " Thou shalt be King " — I knew not how — did I 
 
 Pluck branch, or leaf awry, that suns and moons 
 
 Might earlier purple this my prize 1 God said, 
 
 "The cluster is for thee " : the fruit was green : 
 
 Yet did I, ev'n in fancy ripen it 1 
 
 Not so, my dread dead father-king ! 
 
 If aught 
 Thou knowest now of miserable 3'ears, 
 When thou didst walk bewildered and amazed ; 
 As shepherds whom the mountain mist involves. 
 While seeking ewe or lamb astray, mis-judge 
 Of path and rock and haggard tree — and crags 
 Immediate at the feet breaking divide.
 
 David's LA:yiENT. 33 
 
 By sword-edge, life from death : — to thee my mind — 
 
 If aught thou knowest — will now show as clear, 
 
 And constant firm, as the white crystal is. 
 
 (Not always seen in those sad wandering years). 
 
 Phantoms thou sawest : I a phantom seemed 
 
 Amid the abhorrent gloom. But thou, lost friend ! — 
 
 God keeps my memory unvexed and sweet 
 
 For thee, and Jonathan ! — thou, twin soul 
 
 Of mine, whose truth Avas as the truth of God, 
 
 Heart-bound to me for many noble years, 
 
 Wherein we walked with equal steps of love ! — 
 
 Nay, I but strove to equal thee, who lost. 
 
 In the great splendour of thy love, thyself ! 
 
 For thou, as herald, with unjealous mind. 
 
 Went still before me to make sure my way, 
 
 Chode Avith my love pursuing, gently waived 
 
 My claim to leadership in sacrifice. 
 
 Outvoiced me when I would demur, refused, 
 
 "While turning the popular eye to me, 
 
 To be conjoined or measured Avith me, though 
 
 So easily surpassing ; trumpeting — 
 
 " What think ye of David 1 David stands alone ! 
 
 No one like David !" — No one like thyself. 
 
 Brother of my heart, loving me in God, 
 
 With flames that many waters could not quench ! 
 
 I hold you both in my remembrance set. 
 As in a silver mirror fair — could hand 
 But fix what there we do behold. No change. 
 No chance, the calm and settled sphere shall dim> 
 Where I shall see your lustrous images, 
 
 D
 
 34 THE DOOM OF SAUL. 
 
 To me as pictures of the Sons of God, 
 August as those our great forefathers knew, 
 While yet the earth was green, nor hum of towns 
 And cities filled the land, and great sin came. 
 
 Nor should I ever know, though length of daj's 
 As the hoar mountains were accorded me, 
 And sight of many nations, men so strong. 
 Excelling, swift, and beautiful as ye. 
 
 Lo I will make a song for men to sing 
 
 In after times, when war is at the gates 
 
 Hoarse-shouting, with the clash of myriad shields. 
 
 The fearful glancing of bright spears — when hearts 
 
 Do droop to see the rings of warfare drawn 
 
 Closer and closer, like the coils of snakes 
 
 That crush. Then shall my song enhearten men 
 
 As with new wine, bring noble shame and wrath, 
 
 And Saul and Jonathan shall live again 
 
 In rally-cry and victory : — if God 
 
 Shall help me sing ; to whom. Eternal One, 
 
 My heart as incense shall for ever rise !"
 
 THE MONTHS. 
 
 JANUAEY'S EXPECTATION". 
 
 Not yet the blackthorn, through the dark 
 Of hedgerows, makes a "milky way;" 
 
 Nor bleats the lamb ; nor sings the lark 
 His orisons at break of day. 
 
 A silent shadow in the thorn, 
 
 The thrush with bright eye ponders still 
 And yet we are not all forlorn : 
 
 The trees that grow on plain and hill 
 
 Etch the dun sky : in pools serene, 
 Made by the high banks' curvature. 
 
 Their reflex exquisite is seen, 
 In pensive, pensile portraiture. 
 
 In calm nooks some dear violet 
 
 Will come to bless, in cold's despite: 
 
 And sculptured snowdrops, shrewdly set 
 By grave and guardian trees, delight. 
 
 The maple-shoots are red with hope : 
 The yellow wands of willows glow : 
 
 And chestnuts cast May's horoscope, 
 With buds for stars, above the snow. 
 d2
 
 36 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Tokens how faint are these ! — a shred 
 Of purple lurking in the moss, 
 
 A glint of white, a stain of red ; 
 A fresher tint, a newer gloss — 
 
 And lo ! Spring's pursuivants we greet ! 
 
 And watch the New Year's opening door, 
 What time shall issue thence the sweet, 
 
 Long train of living things once more.
 
 A FEBRUARY NIGHT. 
 
 High are the clouds, enmeshed together ; 
 
 From far and near the north wind's fret 
 Has, caught them — every floss and feather — 
 
 Tangled them in a pearl-grey net. 
 
 Looks from a momentary chamber, 
 Behind her curtains and thin veils. 
 
 The clear moon, showing locks of amber ; 
 Then shyly hides and softly sails. 
 
 How fair the time ! What fancies waken ! 
 
 To lightly rove, by fear unvext, 
 As twilight moths, when dew is shaken 
 
 From one full flower, will seek the next. 
 
 Say, here's a sea with billows hoary, 
 This sky, whose motion never ceases ; 
 
 Or, here's a plain, as in old story, 
 
 Where clouds are flocks with snowy fleeces ; 
 
 Or, here's a dreamland Argosy 
 
 Crowding all sail for port unknown ; 
 
 Or, wrought by Dian's poesy, 
 
 A garden, with white lilies strowu ;
 
 38 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Or, here's a silver dome, whose circle 
 The bound of all the world doth seem, 
 
 Far up the vaulting diamonds sparkle, 
 Bosses of pearl and ivory gleam. 
 
 God's House is here ! Let this thought hold me ! 
 
 That roof of cloud, this floor of sod, 
 The faithful mountains that enfold me. 
 
 Are His ! Come, let us worship God !
 
 A MARCH MORNING. THE BOULDER STONE. 
 
 All heaven looks down with serious face 
 
 Upon our little world beneath ; 
 Yet are the dun clouds touched with grace 
 
 Far in the east where fades the heath — 
 
 The heath that surges rank and brown 
 
 Round yonder pillar of old days, 
 Then passes softly, dimly doAvn, 
 
 To lose itself in silver haze. 
 
 From the brown gloom the boulder springs ; 
 
 The eastern sky is fair to see ; 
 The rock a sign of former things ; 
 
 The morning lights of things to be. 
 
 Alone on this wide heathery laud. 
 
 No other rock save this appears, 
 Hewn, carved by elemental hands, 
 
 Here resting through millennial years. 
 
 Wi'ought Avas it at the primal source 
 Of fire, in wrinkled nature's youth ; 
 
 Hurled outward by some earthquake's force ; 
 Ground by the glacier's restless tooth,
 
 40 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Dark secret of some iceberg's breast, 
 Floated from north or southern pole ; 
 
 Through warmer waters slipped to rest, 
 Poised now upon this English knoll ; 
 
 Starred like a veteran after wars ; 
 
 Rosettes of lichen and green moss 
 Crowd thick to beautify the scars, 
 
 And tenderly transfigure loss. 
 
 With yellowing stream yon light is flowing ; 
 
 We taste the March wind's cheerful zest ; 
 Soon will a Avorld of wild flowers blowing, 
 
 Yield smell of fields that God hath blest. 
 
 Maintain, friend ! the wintry fight ; 
 
 " The spring comes slowly up this way ;" 
 But turn, and face the unfolding light, 
 
 "Until the shadows flee away !"
 
 AN APKIL EVENING. 
 
 Late music falls, in moun or trill, 
 
 From heights the haimt of bird and breeze 
 And o'er the clover rises still 
 
 A mist of murmurs from the bees. 
 
 A sea of grass flows in the vale : 
 
 Red uplands trenched so far and true 
 
 Glow in the sun : above clouds sail 
 In unpolluted depths of blue. 
 
 A wild stream runs amid the green, 
 
 And alder trees pursue its mazes : 
 Far off a heron, fisher keen. 
 
 With side-bent head intently gazes. 
 
 Soft clouds, the fitful zephyr brings, 
 
 Linger above yon western wold, 
 Like brooding doves with silver wings. 
 
 And burnished breasts of yellow gold. 
 
 ToAvards their sphere the wild swan made 
 Her own proud way, Avith dauntless carriage ; 
 
 Now level bends her coiurse, afraid 
 
 That their bright plumes would her's disparage.
 
 42 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Scarlet as poppies are, the sun 
 
 Sinks under clouds — triumphal arches, 
 
 Stained with the hue of roses wan, 
 
 The grey of pearls, the green of larches. 
 
 From the tall tor the raven glides 
 Into the vale, where something stirs : 
 
 Engraved above the mountain sides. 
 Far up in heaven, dark files of firs. 
 
 This April day is now far spent, — 
 
 As when those two delayed with prayers 
 
 And entertained, with wonderment, 
 Indeed an Angel unawares. 
 
 God walks and talks with us through hours 
 Of light, and life in myriad kinds: 
 
 His Face is in the clouds and flowers ; 
 His Voice is in the birds and winds. 
 
 That Face have ye not seen ? nor heard . 
 
 Aught save the tones impersonal 
 Of the fair present life 1 no word 
 
 Of fuller life reversional 1 
 
 The day is done. Tis ours that life ! 
 
 Won out of bitter night and death ; 
 He lives the Victor in the strife ; 
 
 " Ye shall live too," the Master saith.
 
 THE DAWN OF MAY. 
 
 Wild hyacinths, their deep blue waves 
 With foam of wind-flowers flecked, fill now 
 
 The copse: the tide of colour laves 
 Each stem, each winter-fallen bough, 
 
 Flows into hollows, floods the dikes, 
 Scales every hillock's breast and crest, 
 
 Surges among the close-set spikes 
 Of brier and bramble. Let us rest 
 
 Beneath this golden- tufted oak, 
 And from our scented hermitage 
 
 View the bright scene. The care, the yoke, 
 The doubt of life's strange pilgrimage 
 
 Pass all away. Just now a bird. 
 From some last, finest, aspen spray, 
 
 Sang to the angels, and was heard : 
 We could not choose but join his lay. 
 
 Before us soars a fir-clad ridge, 
 And through the golden interspace 
 
 Their silver-weft dart fly and midge 
 Like myriad shuttles weaving lace,
 
 44 THE MONTHS. 
 
 The wood-dove gurgles melody ; 
 
 The field-mouse strays from her smal fold ; 
 The young lambs dream in Arcady ; 
 
 The cattle couch on marigold. 
 
 We do not merely live to-day, 
 
 We move in life, an element. 
 An ocean stretching every way, 
 
 That knows no term or continent. 
 
 From shore to shore sweet voices calling, 
 Tell us that Life, not Death, shall reign ; 
 
 But from the heavens One Voice is falling : 
 " Ye enter into Life." Amen !
 
 JUNE EOSES. 
 
 The rain fell yester eve, and brimmed 
 
 All founts and springs. No cloud or gauze 
 
 Or haze this morning's lustre dimmed ! 
 Northward the sea, a pale turquoise ; 
 
 And then the ships : far off the shaft 
 
 Of a forsaken rainbow, red 
 I' the offing, like a burning raft : — 
 
 The angels built thus far and staj^ed 
 
 At sea mist level. Picturesque, 
 Tall palisades of thorns and roses 
 
 Shadow our lane with arabesque : 
 A rambling limestone cliff opposes, 
 
 That with an orderly disorder. 
 Keeping a line it often ruptures. 
 
 Adorns with grassy coigns its border, 
 
 With columns, shrines, recesses, sculptures ; 
 
 So runs far southward. — Fair the day. 
 Wherein all trees and plants lift up 
 
 Themselves, to court the sun's clear ray. 
 From oak to lowly buttercup.
 
 46 THE MONTHS. 
 
 But these Avild roses wavincr free, ' 
 
 Frail stars on sprays of chrysolite, 
 
 That fire the hedgerows to the sea, 
 Are the delightful day's delight ! 
 
 The frail stars dance, and opening buds 
 Their kisses to the swallows throw, 
 
 Whilst breezes move, and odour floods 
 The bowered path by which we go. 
 
 Take but one bloom within your hand — 
 How frank and pure ! How free, and yet 
 
 In what symmetric measures planned 
 From petal tip to coronet ! 
 
 Freedom by truth is still endeared ; 
 
 Obedience knows no prison bars ; 
 Beauty and law, in this small sphere. 
 
 Glass the world's circle and the stars ! 
 
 For thus the tide of being flows 
 In rhythmic sweep, to every part : 
 
 The universe is God's great Rose, 
 And Love its central golden heart !
 
 JULY: THE NOON OF THE YEAR. 
 
 In mighty domes of oak and elm, 
 In crimson and in purple flower, 
 
 In the bright life that throngs her realm, 
 Nature attains her perfect hour ! 
 
 Not more of life can she contain, 
 Nor more of joy ! no whispers rude 
 
 Of life that ebbs, of joys that wane. 
 Disturb the quiet of her mood. 
 
 All harmonies around her wait ; 
 
 Upon her head the crown is set : 
 She pauses at her perfect state, 
 
 To point to things not seen as yet. 
 
 Yet Beauty's guerdon is half pain, 
 The while she hints the pure ideal ; 
 
 And we recall the transient reign 
 Of all this gracious imreal real ; 
 
 And feel the lack, in part or whole, 
 
 In us of correspondence true, 
 As to the form of oiu- own soul, 
 
 "With the round world so fair to view ;
 
 48 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Much more with what shall be, when forth 
 All hidden founts of light shall stream, 
 
 And West and East, and South and North, 
 Eeveal the New Jerusalem. 
 
 Ah, tidings from a country far. 
 
 Are these fair things thou seest an<l hast ! 
 They voices of the herald are ; 
 
 But Christ Himself will come at last !
 
 • AUGUST AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 Climb, comrade, where the sun's last beams 
 Upon the mountain's crest of sod 
 
 Make a strange fire — climb till there seems 
 Nothing between us men and God ! 
 
 The young sheep bleat at our advance ; 
 
 With anxious cry across the heather, 
 The grouse whirr like a flying lance ; 
 
 Then silence, as we climb together. 
 
 Raised on the shoulders of the world 
 Thrust into heaven, at last we stand : 
 
 Below, the vale in mist impearled ; 
 Around, the purple wan moorland ; 
 
 Above, the amazing height of clear. 
 
 Auroral crystal, like a gem 
 Wrought for pure joy : — yet have we here 
 
 Only His lustrous garment's hem ! 
 
 Nothing between us men and Thee 1 
 Ah, easy, idle word to say ! — 
 
 If this were Peni-el, and we 
 Did wrestle all the night away ! 
 E
 
 50 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Yet if He came at morning's prime 
 
 And showed — the last veil drawn aside- 
 
 His Face, in majesty sublime, 
 Then my soul, couldst thou abide. 
 
 Yea, I would see Him ! But I need 
 Some human Friend, and Friend divine. 
 
 To take my trembling hand, and plead — 
 " Lo He is Mine, as I am Thine ! " 
 
 See how the stars their promise send — 
 A Jacob's ladder faith can trace ! 
 
 Darkling we know Him now, Friend ! 
 But soon shall see Him face to face !
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 An Eastern Legend. 
 
 When Adam quitted Paradise, 
 He came not empty-handed forth, 
 
 Old legend saith. The Lord All-wise 
 Gave him three things of priceless worth 
 
 Corn to afford him needful food — 
 Then, added gracious overplus, 
 
 To fill him with a sense of good — 
 The myrtle, shapely, odorous, 
 
 With scented star-cluster, and leaf, 
 
 And the sweet date good cheer to yield : 
 
 These in their seeds, — vast wealth in brief, - 
 Then sent him forth to till the field. 
 
 For this our life, that God designed. 
 Was not mere life, shut in small round ; 
 
 But liberal, adorned, refined, 
 
 AYith joy of all the senses crowned. 
 
 Is not a flower pure gladness 1 Fruit 
 Pure grace ? God's cup runs over here— 
 
 The apple thy fond palm to suit — 
 The rose that breathes of Eden dear. 
 e2
 
 52 THE MONTHS. 
 
 But, say yon, that by toil severe 
 
 Man from the waste his goods evoked 1 
 
 That he compelled the desert drear, 
 By skill and labour duly yoked, 
 
 To show him hidden things, and thus 
 Secured contentment of his needs, 
 
 And gained the happy overplus ? 
 
 Then say, mortal ! whence the seeds ? 
 
 The world's fair possibilities. 
 
 Maintained in order permanent — 
 
 Its kindly plastic qualities ? 
 
 Man's tastes and powers consonant 1 
 
 The mutual law was plain, God said 
 To man : " Go, in My vineyard toil ! " 
 
 And to the world around him spread, 
 
 " Bring forth the corn and wine and oil ! "
 
 OCTOBER WOODS. 
 
 Walk in these rich paths while you may ! 
 
 The leaf that loiters from the bough 
 And, like a butterfly at play, 
 
 Alights capriciously — e'en now ! — 
 
 Leaves yet a myriad of his mates, 
 That glow on branch and airy crest. 
 
 And break the azure of heaven's gates. 
 With fervours caught from East or West. 
 
 Take while you may these hours serene ! 
 
 Deep unto deep of musing calls ! 
 The dew that curves the sedges green 
 
 Pauses long moments ere it falls ! 
 
 Soon will wild winds and pouring floods 
 
 Conclude the sylvan holiday. 
 Tear all the splendour from the woods, 
 
 And cast the gold brocade away. 
 
 And Proserpine, her straying tresses 
 Looped in her coif, no more Avill roam ; 
 
 But, turning from the sun's caresses. 
 With wan face seek her dusky home :
 
 54 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Wild Winter like a prophet pass, 
 Crying aloud from shore to shore : 
 
 "All glory dies ; all flesh is grass " — 
 And breathe upon the mountain's hoar, 
 
 And on the valleys at their feet, 
 
 And blur the light, and dim the sheen, 
 
 To make the parable complete — 
 All goodliness, save God's, is vain.
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 Conway Castle : A Lunar Kainbow. 
 
 Dark grey the sea ! Light grey the cloml ! 
 
 Vague moonshine touches shore and field : 
 Those tOAvers, sky-framed, rise grim and proud, 
 
 Bar sinister on silver shield. 
 
 The high tide runs its mighty race ; 
 
 The wind roars from its western cave ; 
 The parted cloud-pack flies apace ; 
 
 The moist stars blink beyond the wave ; 
 
 A diamond rain-dust fills the air, 
 
 JNIixed with the rheum of moony spray ; — 
 Who Avould not call the season fair ? 
 
 Or who Avould wish November May ? 
 
 Rising behind those towers behold. 
 Traced on the dim brows of the night, 
 
 Meek, clear, as timid and yet bold. 
 The mighty curve of lunar light ! 
 
 How soft yet sure its footsteps are. 
 While passing to its perfect form, 
 
 From cloud to cloud, from star to star. 
 Amid the bluster of the storm !
 
 56 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Mystic this silver yoke that weds 
 The land and sea, and arches ships, 
 
 The town, the hills, our humbled heads, 
 And in the wild Atlantic dips 
 
 Its foot far venturing ! The span 
 Of Mercy and of Power is here, 
 
 That stretches o'er the life of man, 
 And clasps the courses of the year.
 
 DECEMBER. NORTH WALES. 
 
 The Zephyrs breath was debonair, 
 
 And rich with balm of bloom and bud ; 
 
 But this north "wind is crisp and rare, 
 And stirs the manhood in our blood. 
 
 Ah you regret the iris flown 
 
 From the wide sea's circumference ! — 
 Yet soft this misty monotone ! 
 
 Prize we the season's difference. 
 
 The hills were scarce more fair in May, 
 When rainbows nestled there to dream : 
 
 O'er that dim world beyond the bay 
 A hundred peaks of opal gleam ! 
 
 (So o'er the earthborn mists of time 
 
 The citadels of Zion rise. 
 For ever rise in Faith's clear clime, 
 
 Far in the land of Paradise !) 
 
 You sigh for mellow moons ! But mark 
 
 *)-) 
 
 God's compensation in the stars — 
 The keener light — the darker dark ! - 
 Latticed by summer's silver bars
 
 58 THE MONTHS. 
 
 Less brightly shone the starry train, 
 To whom he metes the great profound 
 
 Now on a burning throne they reign, 
 Their purple empire sweeping round. 
 
 The jewel of the world God turns, 
 And sets diverse in Love's clear ray ; 
 
 And in that gracious light it burns 
 With some new facet every day.
 
 BALAAM'S DPtEAM. 
 
 Prefatory Note. 
 
 Several commentators consider that the terms used 
 imply that Balaam did not meet with his death in the 
 battle of the Kings ; but received judicial sentence after- 
 wards. It is on this supposition that the poem is founded. 
 
 I. 
 
 BALAAM'S DKEAM. 
 
 Now pealed the silver trumpets of the hosts 
 
 Of God, keenly and long— sword blades of sound, 
 
 And thrusting spears ! — till each man's heart was stung, 
 
 And like a winter lion leapt to win 
 
 The prey. So grasped they brand and shield, 
 
 And mustered in Beth-jesimoth at morn. 
 
 From Heshbon rolled the foes confederate. 
 
 From Kamoth, Rabbah, Ar and Kir, the tents 
 
 Of distant Kedar, Eneglaim steep. 
 
 Renamed in later time Callirrhoe ; 
 
 "While from Nebaioth's hills, and Petra's caves. 
 
 Streamed forth allies Avho worshipped The Shame.
 
 60 BALAAM. 
 
 Then, round the standards of their Gods unclean, 
 
 Fought Evi, Hur and Eeba, Zur the Rock, 
 
 And Rekem broidered chieftain, fought and fell. 
 
 With many a captain of wild desert men, 
 
 Their crimson mantles dyed anew, their moons 
 
 Of gold all blurred with gory dust. But some 
 
 Fled on their dromedaries to the waste : 
 
 And more, amid the thorny tanglcment 
 
 Of the acacia groves, Cjuaking, lay hid. 
 
 Till the blue Hebrew spears searched their retreat. 
 
 And the last gurgling prayer to Bel went out 
 
 In blood. But when the men of Israel 
 
 Returned at trumpet call, they saw afar 
 
 A man uprising from a heap of slain, 
 
 As if awaking from a SAvoon, and would 
 
 Have killed. Then Phinehas beholding him. 
 
 And taking note of golden stars and signs, 
 
 Inwrought upon the purple of his robe, 
 
 And mystic figures running round the hem, 
 
 Bade spare. Him, therefore, bound with sheep-skin thongs 
 
 They brought into the camp, guarding till day. 
 
 And now the sun his broad and glowing seal 
 Beneath the day's full record set, and night 
 And dew and balm and starlight came. Now slept 
 Archer and spearman in the dusky tents 
 That couched like some vast herd of creatures strange 
 Browsing in fairy-land at witching hour — 
 Dark all, save that, midmost, the Holy Place 
 Glowed like a chrysolite.
 
 BALAAM'S DREAM. 61 
 
 And Balaam slept, 
 And dreamed. He saw himself return alone 
 O'er the red desert on a milk-white ass. 
 The wind was mourning on the plain, and puffed 
 The scuffled sand into a fume. Behind, 
 From far, and craning east, stretched a vast cloud, 
 Black like a cormorant. Then turning round, 
 Fearful he saw the hoof-prints of the ass 
 Brimming with blood, and far off in the west, 
 Storm cinctured, a bright-armoured angel set 
 In his pursuit, Avith brandished sword that swept 
 From North to South in a great arc of sheen. 
 Madly he fled, and blindly urged the beast 
 Till at the last, amazed, he now had reached 
 The aloe-scented shore of the great stream, 
 Whose broad expanse a magic mirror was. 
 Aforetime, to give images to thought. 
 There lie alighting scarce three paces took, 
 Soothing himself and saying "all is well," 
 When suddenly he saw before him one 
 Shrivelled and twisted like a desert shrub. 
 Who cried, " Hail to thee son of Beor ! Lo ! 
 I bring a summons from the utmost sea " — 
 So drew forth from a hollow reed he bore 
 A scroll. But Balaam, as he read perplexed. 
 Heard a vast sound, and lifting up his eyes, 
 Behold, the sea came everywhere. 
 And caught him in its toils, and Avrapping round 
 With surges, even to the soul, dissolved him. 
 And mixed him with the deep : Then sinking far
 
 62 BALAAM. 
 
 Time's course passed over him unmarked, until 
 Arising as a solitary wave, 
 On a long shore, he rolled far inland, swept 
 The vineyards and the folds and stood at length 
 Poised, for a moment, over Midian's tents, 
 Then crashed, and crashing woke — 
 
 And lo the day !
 
 II. 
 
 BALAAM'S APOLOGY. 
 
 Ere yet the day's flower had unfurled full gold, 
 
 They brought him where, beneath the clustered palms. 
 
 The elders sat, and Moses in their midst, 
 
 Who, seeing Balaam as a felon bound, 
 
 Straightway commanded them to cut the thongs, 
 
 That he might stand before them unashamed. 
 
 So in his princeliness he stood erect, 
 
 And all men knew him who he was, though reft 
 
 Of followers, and turbanless, with smirch 
 
 Of battle on his robes. His roj'al head 
 
 The neck columnar crowned — exquisite poise ! 
 
 His long black hair, touched here and there with thought, 
 
 Tent-like divided from the brows divine ; 
 
 And in the arches shone the eyes as bright 
 
 As moonlit summer lakes ; while the round lips 
 
 Were like a maid's, disparting graciously. 
 
 Yet something of the satyr in the face, 
 
 And in the nostrils something of the hawk, 
 
 And something of the serpent in the mouth, 
 
 Confused the happier view. For God at first 
 
 Had put a lustre as of morning clouds. 
 
 What time the sun has risen o'er the hills,
 
 G4 BALAAM. 
 
 Upon his face ; nor was there any one 
 
 Anointed thus, with such a chrism of light, 
 
 Save Moses only ; but the pride of will, 
 
 And many subtleties, and mournful years, 
 
 Had made the glory wan, and dulled the sign : 
 
 And men, regarding him, perceived with awe 
 
 An angel had been there, and gone away. 
 
 Then Moses with exceeding calmness said, 
 
 "Speak Balaam, son of Beor, if thou wilt. 
 
 For thou art known : God's mark of greatness must 
 
 Be thy betrayal, if nought else : for loath 
 
 Are we to cut thee off like a dumb beast, 
 
 As if denying thy mere human rights ; 
 
 Or eager to foreclose revenge, afraid 
 
 Thy plea might snatch from us the prey. 
 
 Take to thee words, and ease thee of thy load, 
 
 Too vast, I deem, for one to bear alone." 
 
 But Balaam coldly answered : " Do ye ask 
 
 The bird to sing a song within the snare ?" 
 
 Then Moses said : " Thou knowest otherwise : 
 
 I will not cast upon thee what I might : 
 
 But — for thy soul — make God a partner — yea 
 
 And us, bearing thy injuries : So then 
 
 It may be all His anger will drain out 
 
 In this event, and death be life to thee." 
 
 Then musing silent for a little space 
 
 He answered : " Death be life ! Ah, can'st thou say I 
 
 I see before me Death's dark door — but life ! 
 
 Hast thou then looked within 1 — Thy lips are locked 
 
 As God's ! So scarcely do I hope to gain
 
 Balaam's apology. 65 
 
 Your mirage-goal ; but I am inly urged, 
 
 Perhaps by vanity, perhaps by God, 
 
 To say what else were hid, though thou art wise 
 
 And thy clear eyes are like the stars that see 
 
 In darkness. As for these, they will, I think, 
 
 But iniderstand in part ; nothing excuse : 
 
 So to the prophet let the prophet speak. 
 
 And others gather what they list or can. 
 
 Ye have but seen the crude result — fruit plucked 
 
 Half-ripe ; but I have writ a chronicle 
 
 To show some things I did in 3'our behalf. 
 
 'Tis true I erred (as who may not 1) when first 
 
 The Son of Zippor called : yet afterwards, 
 
 Reproved, in that first business which ye know 
 
 In brief, I did not swerve from your desires ; 
 
 As ye shall read hereafter in the book. 
 
 But now, think ye, too grossly have I sinned : — 
 
 As if the way of truth were one plain track 
 
 Cut in the waste by many caravans. 
 
 And not, as oft, a lynx-path in a Avood 
 
 Chance-found, scarce known when found, — a thorn pressed 
 
 Against the acacia stem, a palm leaf torn 
 
 To its brown wrist, and herbage smoothed one way. 
 
 To tell, here passed he, here plunged hard his foot, 
 
 Here by the opening crouched for his fell spring 
 
 Upon the roe. But as for you, oracle, 
 
 Or sign guides your tame feet far from suspense. 
 
 For here is one who says : " This is truth's way : 
 
 This and no other " : So ye cannot err 
 
 Unless ye will. He guides you as a nurse
 
 G5 BALAAM. 
 
 The child, himself within the hourly sound 
 
 Of fatherly monition. But to me, 
 
 God cometh as the lightning flashes — now 
 
 The arch of heaven shows to its utmost rib, 
 
 And now, a void of darkness where I grope. 
 
 And kindle m}'' own lights perforce, that flare 
 
 And flicker in the wind of circumstance. 
 
 Such light was mine, wdieu as I sought to form 
 
 A bond betwixt j'ou and the Moabites, 
 
 Proving to them a saviour, and to you 
 
 A friend, supplying what you lacked of art, 
 
 Or skill or beauty in the mode of things. 
 
 A double benefit would hence accrue : — 
 
 They share your secure shield, ample for both ; 
 
 Ye their variety, and so gain force 
 
 And manifoldness for your life. Thereto, 
 
 I dreamt of re-uniting ancient kin : — 
 
 For are they not indeed your blood 1 And have 
 
 Ye always held thus holily aloof 1 
 
 Did'st thou not, Moses, in thy trouble seek 
 
 The screen of Midianitish tents I—nay hence 
 
 Did'st take thy wife, in ripeness of thy will 
 
 And unrebuked, from her mild father's care 1 
 
 And if some craft were used preparative — 
 
 I argue here as one may fairly urge, 
 
 Not being of your tribes — ye do not blame 
 
 The weaker beasts that use a foil against 
 
 Leviathan. I say there were defects : 
 
 Yet need ye deem the whole scope sinister ? 
 
 For who can weave a wide and general plan
 
 Balaam's apology. 67 
 
 Of bright threads only ? Or excluding all 
 That, judged apart from the contexture, seems 
 A blot, engage success 1 Doth God himself 
 Employ no means that, severallj' viewed, 
 Touch to the quick our honest sense of wrong 1 
 Nor need ye think that every coarse extreme 
 Was proper to the plan, that rather sprang 
 A bastard-birth of chance, while yet the bloom 
 Of novelty invited, soon to be 
 Brushed off, and harmless then. Yea, I thought, 
 The initial undue heat will soon die down 
 Into composed and fair alliances ; 
 And these twin nations, blended in their fate, 
 ^Mayhap, shall countervail decrees of heaven : 
 Unless, as some fierce thunder-bolt that hastes 
 Unmoved amid the weeping stars to strike, 
 His unrelenting will cleaves all the world 
 To reach its only end : — which I think not. 
 Yet did I stand prepared at once to own 
 Arrest of G-race. If He gives light, I said. 
 Self-certified as true — or if I now 
 Am cunningly hood'\\dnked by policy, 
 Why certainly Himself will come to me. 
 And tear the bandage from my eyes ; 
 Or give a sign to save me, if to shame. 
 As formerly He did prevent my course 
 By prodigy. He will oppose me now — 
 Raise up a mountain— bid a wide chasm yawn— 
 Or by great show of power imperative 
 Dissuade me quite. For so would I have done, 
 
 f2
 
 6S BALAAM. 
 
 Had I been God. Do ye not say He made 
 A valley in the mighty sea, and cleft 
 The waters to the primal rock and sand, 
 For these your Hebrew feet ? And if my way 
 Were not His way — nor need I say it — yet 
 Having conferred with me, as ye have learnt. 
 Why in my darkness Avas I left to tread. 
 Fool- wise, the cliffs' most cruel precipice, 
 And so slip over life's last foothold thus 1 — " 
 So paused awhile Avith tightened lips, and eyes 
 Down-dropt : then with a voice, that sadly fell 
 On lowest ranges, said " I ask not life : 
 Your fateful eyes forbid : but answer me— 
 Thou, Moses, tell me of His plan and rule, 
 If thou wouldst judge me, prophet, righteously
 
 III. 
 
 BALAA]\I BEFOEE MOSES. 
 
 The Judgment of Moses. 
 
 "While Balaam thus his sinuous argument 
 
 "Warily held, the white-robed conclave sat 
 
 Mutely indignant, with eyes hungrily 
 
 Half shut, as the ounce-cat's before the prey, 
 
 Alert to rise and stone him ere the end 
 
 Had the least word or gesture of disdain 
 
 Escaped their leader ; but as statue high 
 
 Of some Egyptian demi-god for ever calm 
 
 By temple door, aloof j'et present, looks 
 
 Superior on all the noisy ways 
 
 Of men, so he. Then with slow words he spake, 
 
 The thought preceding in his face as spreads 
 
 The lightning-flare abroad before the roll 
 
 Of laggard thunder, Avhen the storm is fai'. 
 
 " Our ears have Avaited on thee, Balaam, fain 
 
 To hear what scarce alas ! they heard, and learn, 
 
 Examining each doubtful syllable, 
 
 Thy soul's adhesion to the truth at last. 
 
 And once or twice we thought, ' now will he show 
 
 How he elects to stand on that sure ground 
 
 Where God may find him presentlj^, and bid
 
 70 BALAAM. 
 
 Him peace.' But tliou hast baffled our desires. — 
 
 We have not seen, we trust, thy very heart. 
 
 If thou in thoughts retired hast worshipped truth, 
 
 Rendering alone thy rites particular, 
 
 It may be thou shalt stand acquit to God — 
 
 Though how Ave know not — who thy face may see 
 
 Turned in the darkness toward himself. And this 
 
 We hope : yet must we judge thee now perforce 
 
 By common clues of speech and act : — thy deeds 
 
 AVe know, and all the world doth know ; thy words 
 
 Have heard that seem to us but sinister. 
 
 Thou askest of His way, as if His law 
 Must cease till thou art satisfied that all 
 In heaven and earth is congruously done ; 
 And He must let thee hear the morning stars 
 At song, and show thee all his harmonies ; 
 Or hold thee free to sound thy part alone — 
 Discordant if it better pleaseth thee. 
 But lo He goeth forth in utter light, 
 Or dwelleth in pavilions high, withdrawn 
 Where thought may not adventure well, or hides 
 In twilight kingdoms of the truth unborn, 
 Inscrutable till time or after-time 
 Consent ; or in the Vale of Sheol walks 
 Where all the nodding shadows OAvn Him Lord 
 Thou hast no eyes to scan His height or depth. 
 And yet thou hast presumed to dream thy Avit 
 Could bring the Everlasting One Avithin 
 A compass, and the mighty One constrain,
 
 BALAAM BEFORE MOSES. 71 
 
 Drive Him to terms, and by vile strategy 
 
 Could subject Him to thy alternatives ! 
 
 To these who sit around me here to-day, 
 
 Lest word of thine should gender doubt, I speak. 
 
 In long past years I wedded Zipporah 
 
 And took her home with garlands of white broom 
 
 And blood-red flowers commingled as of the heart, 
 
 Virgin yet warm. That this pure pact thou wouldst 
 
 Besmirch with thy unseemly parallels 
 
 I will not stay to urge ; but this I say, 
 
 Our tribes are from no later Eden barred 
 
 Where grow the fair the living trees of joy. 
 
 For know that in the full grown nation's life 
 
 Some bane will oft be manifest unseen 
 
 In the young race — nay time and circumstance — 
 
 Or wicked hands in the dark night may graft 
 
 Some poison-yielding wilding of the wood 
 
 Upon the trees that God himself did plant. 
 
 That Midian sernceable to thy ends. 
 
 And in such wise, was found shows well, ingraft 
 
 Or native, baseness in the blood, that must 
 
 Be purged ere we can welcome them as kin, 
 
 Or inter-Aved with honour and with peace. 
 
 But all was not foreseen, thou sayest. Ah 
 Careless was't thou whatever might ensue ! 
 Thou wished'st to be wise as God, but not 
 As good. Xo question that thou knowest well : 
 Thou knowest, but I fear thou lovest not. 
 HoAv didst thou venture to degrade thy God
 
 72 BALAAM. 
 
 And yet to dream that He would still be God ? 
 
 Did meteor flash reveal thee Belial '? 
 
 Or following that lynx-path of the truth, 
 
 As thou hast said, didst thou find there his dark 
 
 Malignant altar reared, and unawares 
 
 Pay sacrifice 1 Nay, son of Beor. Nay ! 
 
 Ah by what steps of serpent casuistry 
 
 Didst thou from station with the Just and Pure 
 
 Descend, contentedly self-blindfolded. 
 
 To grovel in a pit of slime ! Behold 
 
 God made thee as a king doth make a vase. 
 
 All lovely form and hue, for Avine of price, 
 
 Then breaks the mould and leaves a paragon. 
 
 Marred is the only cup and spilt the wine ! 
 
 And now remains to me a heavy task. 
 
 I prophet to prophet speak, yet would not. 
 
 Burdens for many weary years I bear, 
 
 ^Yrestling in vain to lift into the light 
 
 And fashion for His never-fading crown 
 
 The people of His choice, this Israel. 
 
 And easier were it for me now to die, 
 
 ]\Iy life for thine a ransom, and so pass 
 
 From yoke and furrow to large liberty. 
 
 If that He willed. Yet Avhat avail to thee 
 
 Would respite prove if still thou would st essay 
 
 To cast thy threads about, and weave a web 
 
 Even for the Lord thy God 1 Better the end 
 
 Without the hazard. And for this people 
 
 Better the end, than thou shouldst stand unscathed
 
 BALAAM BEFORE I\IOSES. 73 
 
 A lawless counsellor against His throne, 
 
 A Lucifer unshaken from his seat ! 
 
 Thee therefore to the sword of righteousness 
 
 Before the sun go down I now adjudge, 
 
 If these assent. And still I say ' Let Death 
 
 Be Life to thee.'" 
 
 Then at the word of doom. 
 From mouth to mouth and eye to eye there burst 
 Fierce gratulation. But ^.loses drew his robe 
 Athwart his face, and they perceived he wept.
 
 A SIXTEENTH CENTUEY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Prp:fatory Note. 
 
 I must ask my readers to believe that the anachronisms 
 so evident in these two plays are intentional. They are 
 such as abound in the Miracle Plays, upon the pattern of 
 which these are framed. 
 
 The same remark applies to the departures from and 
 additions to the sacred narrative. 
 
 I may further point out that in compositions of this 
 kind Satan not only constantly figures as the " Villain of 
 the piece," but frequently as the Clown also. 
 
 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 A Mystery or Miracle Play of the Death of 
 John the Baptist. 
 
 (Speaks in a shrill voice). 
 
 Lordyngs, knights, and gentles all, 
 Squire and reeve, and seneschal. 
 Ladies fair, and merchants grave, 
 Come and see these puppets brave : 
 Though a man be learned clerk
 
 DEATH or JOHN THE BAPTIST. 75 
 
 I not fear to bid him mark : 
 
 Yeomen, craftsmen, if it please ye, 
 
 Ye shall find here that will ease 3'e : 
 
 Shepherds wise in any weather, 
 
 Lads and lasses come tocrether ; 
 
 With your golden purses come, 
 
 Gather while I beat my drum, 
 
 And the piteous story list. 
 
 Of the holy John Baptist, 
 
 Which these puppets shall declare 
 
 Movingly— a picture rare 
 
 Of the noble tale of woe. 
 
 As the Holy Book doth show : — 
 
 Then they shall at my command 
 
 Dance for ye a saraband. 
 
 Fashioned were they with great skill 
 
 In the famousest Seville 
 
 By outlandish heathen men 
 
 To escape from mickle pain. 
 
 For the holy Church had said : — 
 
 " Sacrilegious lives ye led   
 
 Now your skill be consecrate 
 
 To the Church's good estate ! 
 
 Semblances of God and Saint, 
 
 And of such whose lives attaint 
 
 Yield a moral history. 
 
 Or a text for homily. 
 
 Ye with subtilty shall make, 
 
 And escape the bitter stake : 
 
 For the Church her wrath restraining
 
 76 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Shall deliver vou from brenninff," 
 Ho ! good people all and some 
 Gather while I beat my drum. 
 (Drum beats, and the croiod gathers at the booth). 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 {Ilerod and John on the front of the i)latf(n"ni. Herodias 
 veiled, and Salome behind. A large green snake jpresently 
 coils round the group). 
 
 {Speaks in a natural voice). 
 
 Gentles, we will first present 
 To your marvellous content 
 Figures four upon the scene, 
 Whom the story is between. 
 Proud Herdd in scarlet gown 
 As a peacock up and down 
 Stalketh, talketh high and low — 
 Which way doth the fair wind blow '? 
 Fore him standeth, meek, yet stout, 
 Holy John in sheepskin clout. 
 Famous eremite was he 
 In the realm of Galilee. 
 IjO ! he hath no fear to chide 
 This same king of sinful pride : — 
 " Thee thy brother's wife to win 
 Wit ye well is grievous sin." 
 
 But ye mark that near the door 
 Whispering stand two figures more : 
 One is dark Herodias —
 
 DEATH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. 77 
 
 Lo ! there come at Martinmas 
 
 Bitter sloes upon the thorn, 
 
 Where the prauksome flowers were born — 
 
 Scarves of white were her girland 
 
 Bitter fruit she holds in hand ! 
 
 She is veiled for the cause 
 
 Scarce we see her as she was. 
 
 From her fairness this ainioy, 
 
 As from Helen's in old Troy. • 
 
 This her daughter with long hair 
 Yellow, yellow — swains beware ! 
 When the cheeks are like warm roses, 
 And the breath is thousand posies. 
 And the parted lips come home 
 Kiss ye sweet as honeycomb, 
 Corydon bethink thee then. 
 And this story see again ! 
 
 Ah ! but wherefore now around, 
 His flat belly on the ground. 
 Comes yon serpent boding ill ? 
 See, he craAvleth, Avindeth, till 
 Crawling, winding, he doth bring 
 All the four within his ring ! 
 Ah ! ye know it is the green 
 Snake of Sathanas, I ween. 
 Thus his circle wide dispread 
 Siu-ely draws to issue dread. 
 From his tyi'anny and thrall 
 Jesu, Mary, save us all !
 
 78 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 {Tlie banquet. Herod, lords, &c. Salome dances. Herodias 
 and the snake by the door). 
 
 Here the king at table set 
 His birthday to celebrate, 
 With his lords of high degree, 
 All the pomp of Galilee, 
 Drinketh sack and hippocras ; 
 While the dark Herodias 
 Peereth through the privy cleft 
 Of the door upon the left ; 
 And the snake on her doth gloze, 
 Blinketh, croucheth at her toes, 
 As he had the poor thrall been 
 Of this foul accursed queen. 
 Cometh through the open door 
 Damosel ye saw before, 
 Clapping tabor with her hand — 
 Fairest flower of all the land, 
 Lithe as dappled, fawn in sprin 
 Free as west wind gambolling. 
 Lo ! no seemly dance was this 
 Fit for Ebrew maid, I wis ! 
 Half the wantonness she made 
 Is not meet to be displayed. 
 
 {Puppet Dances). 
 
 Ye may call it serpent dance. 
 Sathan's power in her glance. 
 
 O'
 
 DEATH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. 79 
 
 As she writhes and twines about, 
 Charms with wicked spells the rout 
 Of these drunken iordyngs, till 
 She may bow them to her will, 
 As one taketh in his hand, 
 Bendeth round a willow wand. 
 Ah ! a lordyng thus a slave 
 Is no better than a knave ! 
 Look yon swart and doughty earl 
 "With his great neck-chain of pearl ! 
 He would give each one away 
 At the bidding of this ma}' ! 
 Plucks his russet beard awry, 
 As she dancing passes by. 
 Yonder captain of the sea — 
 Scarcely knows who he may be — 
 Trembles as a leaf in wind, 
 Who hath sailed his ship to Ind ! 
 Silksmooth, swollen abbot there. 
 Squatted in his ivory chair, 
 Looketh greedily and long — 
 Hath forgot his evensong. 
 Sotted Herod, caught with guile, 
 Eolls his wine-red eyes awhile. 
 Hiccoughs forth a royal oath, 
 Plights to her his troth on troth. 
 That her guerdon for this mirth 
 Shall be half the kingdom's worth. 
 Mother-taught she answered straight : 
 " Though Sir King the night is late.
 
 80 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWHIAN. 
 
 Yet ye know 'tis meet to slay 
 Vermin fox by night or day ! 
 Ye shall see your happy vow 
 Cheaply quit — shall give me now, 
 Here a golden dish upon 
 Head of that same traitor John 1 
 This I ask and will not rue, 
 I will see if kings be true." — • 
 Laugheth mother through the door, 
 As the headsman crosseth o'er : 
 Hisseth snake a little span, 
 It is all the laugh he can. 
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 ( The dungeon. John asleep. The snake in a corner. Spiritual 
 figure of the Virgin Mary. The executioner). 
 
 Now ye see the dungeon deep 
 Where the eremite doth sleep, 
 As a little three year child 
 That has never been defiled. 
 In this corner like a log, 
 But with teeth like mastiff dog, 
 Sirs, ye see the snake is lying, 
 So to frighten when a dying 
 God's dear ward, if that he may. 
 But there cometh now this way. 
 Him to comfort hereupon, 
 Blessed Mary from her Son.
 
 DEATH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. 81 
 
 She, the serpent foul espying, 
 
 Takes her kerchief white and tying 
 
 Round about his grisly head — - 
 
 Now he seems a dove instead 
 
 To the eremite awakinor ! 
 
 He that sign of mercy taking, 
 
 As from sleep he wakes anew. 
 
 Loudly singeth Allelu ! 
 
 Mary shining now doth stand 
 
 With a lily in her hand 
 
 Saying — angel seems she there —   
 
 " Come, sweet John, Ave will to prayer ! " 
 
 Kneeleth John as in a trance 
 
 With a heavenly countenance : 
 
 Cometh headsman with the sword 
 
 Trembleth he to speak a woj'd ; 
 
 Yet in sooth the image real 
 
 Of the Virgin spiritual 
 
 Seeth not : too gross his sight 
 
 For that spectacle of light. 
 
 But the bloody deed he wrought 
 
 Ye shall follow in your thought. 
 
 {Curtain falls a moment : then procession across the stage). 
 
 Gentles weep not for the spite 
 Done to this most noble wight. 
 Life's a bubble, or a vapour, 
 Or a shy and trembling taper 
 Blown about by tempest rude. 
 
 G
 
 82 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Darkness comes to bad and good ! 
 
 See the figures hasten by 
 
 As in fearful tragedy ! 
 
 There the damsel bears the dish 
 
 Laden with her gruesome wish ; 
 
 And the mother follows after 
 
 Claps her hands with horrid laughter ; 
 
 While the headsman weeps this fate — 
 
 Fruit plucked from the tree of Hate. 
 
 Yea but Sathan in the rear 
 
 Softly slavering doth appear ! — 
 
 And what after came to pass 
 
 Ye shall see as in a glass. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 One more hand-breadth of the scroll, 
 
 Darkly limned, I will unroll. 
 
 Ye shall see a miracle, 
 
 Or a fearsome parable, 
 
 Of what happeth unto men. 
 
 Once they enter Sathan's den. 
 
 If he gets them in his clew 
 
 They shall find him very Jew ! 
 
 Lo ! he knoweth how to sting 
 
 In the mind of churl or king, 
 
 And the balm is hard to find 
 
 That shall heal a wounded mind. 
 
 Mark then, sirs, the judgment sore 
 
 On that caitiff" king of yore.
 
 DEATH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. 83 
 
 {Enter Herod in terror, ivith uplifted hands, jmrsued by the 
 
 snake). 
 
 Stay, false Herod ! Wherefore haste 1 
 Fear you thus to be embraced 
 By dear friend 1 Lo ! see him glide ! 
 Nay he will not be denied ! 
 
 {Enter Herodias swiilarhj pursued). 
 
 What ! thou purple paramour 
 Hast thou come unto this hour ? 
 
 {Enter Salome with the dish also pursued). 
 
 Minion with the honey hair ! 
 Little sin is mickle care ! 
 Thou art led another dance 
 Thou erst gave so gay joyance ! 
 See ! the dish she overthrows ! 
 Round the head, ah God, there grows 
 Glory as of pictured saint ! 
 And ye hear a music faint, 
 A\Tiile an angel's milk-white arm 
 Now puts down to seize from harm, 
 And to heaven bear away, 
 So to keep till judgment day 
 This sad relic. Then these three, 
 Doubt ye not, shall fronted be 
 ^Vith this token once again. 
 God His mercv shield us then ! 
 g2
 
 81 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Curtain falls and story's done ! 
 If I have your favours won, 
 Presently shall be displayed 
 Famed Duke Jepthah and his Maid. 
 But to cheer you while ye tarry 
 After sad thoughts, yea and marry. 
 While ye all your purses tithe, 
 These shall jig a dance so blithe. 
 Ye shall clean forget all sorrow, 
 Live to-day and not to-morrow, 
 Bid old wizened Care to flit. 
 Jog with Sathan to the pit ! 
 Dance yourselves and cry amain 
 " Goodman showman come again ! " 
 
 (All the puppets dance).
 
 DUKE JEPTHA AND HIS MAID, 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 (First of all a Raven flies across the empty Stage. Aftcnvards 
 Satan appears Dressed as a Monk). 
 
 Now your dance is featly done, 
 Gentles gather every one, 
 While the story I unfold, 
 Of a famous knight of old, 
 Jeptha hight, and of his deed 
 That so grisly was and drede, 
 Ye shall have a thing to tell 
 To your gossips on the selle, 
 By and by, when cometh snow. 
 And the belling wind doth go 
 liound the closed house again. 
 Like a wolf in hunger- pain. 
 Praise or blame — how should it fall 1 
 Question passeth as a ball 
 Tossed by maidens in a ring, 
 Neath the apple trees in spring. 
 Till each hand becometh slack 
 Criss-a-cross returning back. 
 Ye will joy at this my tale 
 As at song of nightingale,
 
 86 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 While ye see with what device 
 It is passioned to your eyes, 
 And will say when it is past, 
 Best wine, soothly, cometh last. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Mark ye how^ yon bird doth bring 
 
 O'er the scene a shadowing 1 
 
 Men do think him devil-taught, 
 
 Wise in evil, if in aught. 
 
 But ye keep the honest road, 
 
 Lordyngs, and may laugh at bode. 
 
 Natheless if he cross your Avay 
 
 Ye will handsel prayer that day. 
 
 Hie away presageful fowl ! 
 
 Enters Sathan in a cowl. 
 
 Sathan ! Sathan ! Thou art guessed ! 
 
 Think not in such habit dressed 
 
 To beguile this company. 
 
 Fie upon thy villainy ! 
 
 (The Cowl IS draivn back from the Head of the Pappel that 
 seems to Speak, the Shoivman Ventriloquising). 
 
 " Since ye know me, gentles mine, 
 And this guise so soon divine, 
 I will shew a thing or two 
 Of mine art, to pleasure you. 
 Anciently men told of one 
 Protis naraiid, who could don 
 Shape on shape, more merrily
 
 JEPTHA AND HIS MAID. 87 
 
 Than the waves of the salt sea ; 
 
 Or the clouds that build a town 
 
 For a moment, then pluck down 
 
 All the palaces, then rear 
 
 A hill, a mountain, to the sphere, 
 
 Which while yet your mind revolves 
 
 Into a white bird dissolves, 
 
 That with great wing bears away — 
 
 "While you miglit an Ave say. 
 
 I am Protis : I will change 
 
 'Fore your eyes more swift and strange." 
 
 (Changes successively into a Serpent, a Fair Woman, a King, 
 
 an Angel, a Knight-at-Arms). 
 (As a SerjnntJ. " Such I was when longing Eve 
 Without apples could not live. 
 
 (A fair IFoman). Such I was wlien David saw 
 From his window Bathseba. 
 
 (A King). Such, when He, I may not name, 
 Into the wild desert came. 
 
 (An Angel). Such I am S. Poule doth say 
 Often in the light of day. 
 
 (A Knight). Such I will be in a trice 
 
 At Duke Jeptha's sacrifice." 
 
 Scene II. 
 (Jeptim and his Warriors returning home, are met hj his 
 Daughter, and Maidens folloiving). 
 Masters see Duke Jeptha come 
 With his knights unto his home.
 
 88 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 He hath sworn an oath to brhig 
 Whatsoever household thing 
 Issues from his palace door, 
 When he ccmeth conqueror, 
 Though it be of dearest price 
 It shall be a sacrifice. 
 Now appeareth singing blithe 
 As a laverock, when the scythe 
 AVhich the early mower wields. 
 In the red-lit morning fields, 
 Swishing slowly to and fro, 
 Lays the scented swaths arow, 
 Daughter dear — a rose is she. 
 Only rose ujjon his tree. 
 Vermeil tincture on her lip, 
 Honeydew for love to sip ; 
 Blue her eye as hyacint, 
 In dark copses, when the glint 
 Of the nice and dainty sun 
 Singles out an only one ; 
 And above her forehead proud, 
 Like a burnished morning cloud. 
 Softly shone her combed head ; 
 Whence her locks unfilleted 
 Flowed unto her kirtle green. 
 Gracious was her body's mien : 
 Lithe each limb and sinew true, 
 As a master bow of yew. 
 Answers to the archer's hand. 
 She was at her own command,
 
 JEPTHA AND HIS MAID. 89 
 
 In the kingdom of her mind, 
 For each deed of virtnous kind. 
 Traitorous thought she held aloof 
 As misfitting all behoof, — 
 To herself, her kindred own. 
 And the High God on His throne. 
 She was wondrous clean, and yet 
 Lest ye think of her as set 
 In the angel's cold degree, 
 Certes she was womanly. 
 Yea already on the string 
 Arrow, feathered with the wing 
 Of a turtle dove for grace, 
 Hath Dan Cupid set in place. 
 See ye not yon ruddy squire 1 
 Sooth ye mote of him enquire. 
 But behold how in the rear 
 Damsels bearing music gear. 
 Not too closely following, 
 Te Deum laudamus sing. 
 Thereto dancing seemely. 
 
 (Pause ivliile the Dance proceeds). 
 
 Ye have seen how in the sky 
 Of midsummer unsuspect, 
 With no cloud bedimmed or fleckt, 
 Smooth and clean as lady's glass. 
 Suddenly it comes to pass 
 That a storm uplifts its head, 
 Like a great curse long delayed.
 
 90 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 Sucking darkness in its sweep ; 
 
 Then before the lightnings leap 
 
 On the field and on the town, 
 
 Sheds amazing twilight down. 
 
 Ah Duke Jeptha what is this 1 
 
 Yea the tongue a rudder is 
 
 Guiding ship to weal or shame, 
 
 As declares th' apostle Jame. 
 
 From thine own mouth springeth doom. 
 
 Vain thou weepest. Curse is come ! 
 
 ( Veils of dark blue descend and dose the Scene). 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 (A Casile. Jepthas Daughter sings at a Window. The 
 Squire approaches and urges her to fly. She refuses. 
 The Slioioman sings her song in a lamentable falsetto). 
 
 Song. 
 " Bend low your heads ye daffodils, 
 In soft gold pastures crowding ; 
 Ye red-eyed daisies weep anew : — 
 To morrow is my shrouding. 
 
 Yet wear your blooms for all your day, 
 The careless earth adorning : 
 Though I shall know no eve or noon, 
 Since midnight comes at morning.'" 
 
 Lordyngs ye shall hear the sighing 
 Of these lovers fond replying : 
 Two things chiefly man desircth 
 Speech concerning — Love and Death !
 
 JEPTHA AND HIS MAID. 91 
 
 He " Haste haste, undo the wicket, 
 Let us fly to yonder thicket ! " 
 
 She " Gentle youth, I am no bride, 
 Therefore Avill I here abide." 
 
 He " Love, I will thee holy keep, 
 
 Till we may the guerdon reap." 
 
 She " Ah, sir squire, I am not free 
 To accept your courtesy." 
 
 He " Let us flee to th' Amorites, 
 
 They will grant us marriage rites ! " 
 
 She " Xay, now nay, ungentle youth ! 
 I may not be false to truth." 
 
 He " but hearken : Be my wife ! 
 It is but one step to life ! " 
 
 She " Many steps from truth 'twould be, 
 If I were to follow thee." 
 
 He " but think what 'tis to die ! 
 Without life's felicity ! " 
 
 She " Death I know not : God I know, 
 And I fear me not to go." 
 
 He " Think, it is thy father's word ! 
 
 Not the doom of heaven's high Lord." 
 
 She " Sir, my father's word hath gone 
 To the high God on his throne ! "
 
 92 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 He "Is it then a just decree 1 " 
 
 She " Ask not my simplicity ! " 
 
 He " Yet once more, I thee conjure." 
 
 She " Nay, my heart is very sure, 
 
 But for that, though scarcely spoken, 
 Each heart gave the other token, 
 Now ere yet I hence remove, 
 Sir, I say that you I love ! " 
 
 (She goes away). 
 
 He "Darkness, darkness ! Death and Hell! 
 Ye have covenanted well ! " 
 
 (Enter train of Damsels with dishevelled hair and heads 
 dejected. They move slowly across the Stage). 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 (Jeptha's Daughter bound. An Altar set. Satan in disguise 
 of a knight kindles the fire. Presently S. Gem'ge appears). 
 
 it is a heavy day ! 
 Welaway and welaway ! 
 Song birds hush, and the sad wind 
 Tells the tale of fate unkind, 
 Through the woods and on the hill, 
 In the field and by the mill, 
 Whispers low where Juda's halls, 
 Stand adread of Avhat befalls. 
 As a jewel of great price
 
 JEPTHA AND HIS MAID. 93 
 
 Flashing in the common eyes, 
 Yet possessed by some one, 
 Deeming it a paragon ; 
 Dear and only, matchless fair 
 She was to her father there. 
 Yet stands Jeptha without sound, 
 Glareth he around, around, 
 Like a lion in a pit, 
 Without force to better it. 
 Masters, see the altar high. 
 And the faggots on it lie ! 
 Know ye not yon cursed foe, 
 Striving at the tinder box 1 
 
 Dearest, faithful maid prepare. 
 He ne pity will nor spare ! — 
 Lord how leaps the hungry flame ! — 
 Hold you there, in God his name ! 
 Look, who cometh 1 Bright his sword 
 AVith the anger of the Lord ! — 
 
 (St. Geai'ge appears, drives Satan away, scatters the fire, and 
 dismantles the Altar). 
 
 " Weke-weke " ! Sathan, dost thou cr}' 1 
 Shrewd the stroke that made thee fly ! 
 Fly back to the burning lake. 
 Let th}^ dam assuage thy ache ! 
 
 But this noble puissant Saint 
 
 AVould now utter his intent. 
 
 aS^. George loq. 
 " Jeptha, and ye men of war,
 
 94 A SIXTEENTH CENTURY SHOWMAN. 
 
 I have this day journeyed far 
 To relieve a worthy maid 
 From the ban upon her laid. 
 Devil's cunning hath been foiled : 
 Jeptha, thou art now assoiled : 
 Maiden, thou art free to wed : 
 
 {The Squire iiribhuls the Maid and leads her aside). 
 
 God his mercy is displayed ! 
 
 But ye see how man may set 
 
 For his feet a dreadful net, 
 
 That shall tangle him in wrong 
 
 Through the mischief of the tongue. 
 
 Whence, Sir Duke, to holy church, 
 
 That ye may be free from smirch 
 
 In the eyes of men, and seal 
 
 All your inward penitence 
 
 By some action clear to sense, 
 
 Ye shall give, by my command, 
 
 Forty rood of pasture land. 
 
 As this season, year by year, 
 
 Back returns, ye shall appear 
 
 Sackcloth girded, holding Psalter, 
 
 Fore the sacrificial altar ; 
 
 And, while all men do admire. 
 
 Tongue of beast into the fire. 
 
 Emblem of thy folly past, 
 
 With thine own hands thou shalt cast." 
 
 {All the Figures how as the Scene closes).
 
 jeptha and his matd. 95 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 Ere I take my leave of ye, 
 Gentles, show your courtesy ! 
 Largess, lordjnigs ! — Noble sir 
 Thanks to you ! — And you master ! 
 Thanks to each one ! When I next 
 Work my puppets to a text, 
 And these trappings gay unfurl, 
 It shall be unto an Earl. 
 If he wink or wave his hand, 
 He a thousand can command. 
 (Still I hear the money clink. 
 Thanks again !) so ye may think. 
 Ye have been in next degree. 
 Unto famous company. 
 Vf hile your favours still prevail, 
 I will tell a wee-bit tale. 
 Once me asked a greybeard man : — 
 " Eead my riddle, if you can. 
 Lo ! I do a dragon keep 
 Within fence, by wake or sleep. 
 The old wife hath one to fit ; 
 But she hath no fence for it. 
 So the beast doth scramble out, 
 And doth give me many a bout." 
 " Sir," quoth I, " what mote it be ^ " 
 Then he oped his mouth to me, 
 ♦Showed his foul tongue to the root, 
 And the villain teeth to boot. 
 Ah ! he was a scurril knave. — 
 Thanks, my masters, God you save.
 
 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 
 
 Here on this throne unparalleled of power, 
 
 Renown and wisdom, happily conjoint, 
 
 Watching myself and all the world grow old, 
 
 I sit, revolving many things that were and are : 
 
 Yet in the multitude of thoughts that rise 
 
 I scarce do sorrow that I sorrow not 
 
 To have declined a little from the heicrht. 
 
 Whither I soared at early morn : so rich 
 
 Hath life's experience been. Yea though a voice 
 
 Persists it had been wisdom to forego 
 
 Life's amplitude, so reach the highest height ; 
 
 And I must needs assent : yet stands my choice. 
 
 God must forgive me that I sorrow not. 
 
 I marvel truly that with me of late 
 
 A certain dryness at the heart forbids. 
 
 Perhaps the fount is sealed awhile, and w^ill 
 
 Break forth in gracious feeling presently. 
 
 But thought and sight are chiefest, I opine. 
 
 Let me remember how I stood and stand 
 
 In the same lot of grace God gave at first. 
 
 Through all the years growing from more to more,. 
 
 In name and fame and glory visible. 
 
 For let me hold, as I may verily, 
 
 That there hath been some counterpart within
 
 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 97 
 
 Of all the state magnifical, and praise 
 Orbed by the voices of the world. What if 
 The tally be not close, seeing the mind 
 Of man is vain 1 Should I sit here if God 
 Did not approve 1 This throne expresses His ! 
 I will believe that all is well ; though, like 
 Heart-searching tremors through a sleeping house 
 When quakes the earth, terror hath shaken me 
 In hours of peace, as I had never found 
 Footing of truth. And, specially, it wrought 
 When first the Temple like a lily bloomed, 
 Each golden petal answering the sun ; 
 And I, as Daysman of the Kingdom set. 
 Offered the flower to God, with sacrifice 
 And prayer, typing, as all men thought, a new 
 Melchizedek. For ere the concourse thawed 
 There pressed before me one who craved to speak, 
 Posing as prophet, and forthwith, " King," 
 He said, " I saw of late a miracle. 
 Which God hath bid me show to Solomon : 
 For thou art wise, and skilled to read all signs, 
 As Joseph thy so great forefather was. 
 It happened then, king, but yester noon. 
 When looking from my chamber in the east, 
 I saw an eagle circling in mid-air. 
 That narrowing the wheel of his broad vans 
 Approached the earth, until at length he took 
 The edge of a dry water-pit : therein 
 Was hid a little space while one might say 
 With praise the holy decalogue. And thence 
 
 H
 
 98 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 
 
 Arising flew with mighty waft of wing 
 
 Against the sun, and vanished in the light 
 
 A moment ; then came falhng from the heavens 
 
 With direful curves, and half-retrievals vain, 
 
 Until, plumb as a stone, he dropt to earth. 
 
 Then I ran forth to see this sight, and lo ! 
 
 From underneath the bird there crawled a snake. 
 
 So I took knowledge of the thing, that when 
 
 In evil hour the bird had sought the pit 
 
 The cruel worm had writhed upon his claws, 
 
 And, carried thence far in the sky, had stung 
 
 Him at the heart. But what the wisdom is 
 
 I say not : 'Tis for thee, king.' So ceased. 
 
 And, while we pondered, presently was gone ; 
 
 But there remained I know not what of fear, 
 
 That back returned for many days ; nay till 
 
 The years had passed, and proved the omen false. 
 
 For still I reign with glory undecayed. 
 
 But if his parable were rather meant 
 
 A fateful forecast of life's better life — 
 
 Yet hath the sequel followed 1 I confess 
 
 Some declination ; for to retrograde 
 
 From what we worship best in our green youth, 
 
 And fondly hope, is but the way of life. 
 
 So, if the heart hath lost some force, again. 
 
 It is the wearing of the hour. My soul 
 
 Doth crave no more, fretting in its small house. 
 
 To compass royally, and wed somewise, 
 
 All precious things unto herself. Content 
 
 She marvels always, as with large clear eye
 
 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 99 
 
 She sees the sparkling universe. For time, 
 Destroying, not destroys the sight, the thought, 
 The estimate that links with God who made. 
 Still I behold the fairness everywhere. 
 Various, opposite, indifferent 
 Thus far, that each particular so rounds 
 The total view, as not to be excised. 
 I mark the joy of softly-hollowed sky. 
 Of hills where angels tread, and fields 
 That hold the sun, the private gesture of each plant. 
 The visages distinct of bird and beast ; 
 Nor shrink I from the dragon-haunted sea 
 And coiling deep, the war of adverse clouds. 
 Nor whatsoever dark tremendous thing 
 Supplies the contrary of fairest fair. 
 Still I appraise — still catch the subtle sense 
 Of Lilith's t^vitching robe, her glance oblique. 
 And gleam evasive of the ivory flesh, 
 So questioningly, questionably coy : 
 The grace I see : the blood no longer stirs : 
 Thousih much I marvel at the wisdom dark 
 Of beauty diverse from the best. Perfect 
 I saw but once. — Ah ! Shulomith if thou 
 Hadst left thy vintage toil and rustic troth 
 For me to drop the honey in thy mouth, 
 Perfect I had not seen. — But all the way 
 Of man I mark. It is no sin to see 
 The good of all — to see it and to say. 
 I find not falsehood absolute but mixed 
 With precious grains of truth. Nay oft the art 
 
 h2
 
 100 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 
 
 Of man surrounds some mystery of God 
 
 With make-believe of falsehood, lest too soon, 
 
 Too widely, should the truth be known, and lose 
 
 The rarity and preciousness at once. 
 
 And thus in alien rites there may be seen 
 
 Divine inclosures, hidden long ago ; 
 
 And whoso finds them doubly finds, because 
 
 Of contrast and surprise : as when men bring 
 
 From Lebanon those rugged spheres and gorms — 
 
 You break them, and behold within, ablaze, 
 
 Are beryl, topaz, hyacinthine stars. 
 
 Threads of the rainbow, fingers of the sun 
 
 And moon : You find them, and delight doth make 
 
 Them doubly yours. So have I broke the shell 
 
 Of these mis-shaped idolatries to learn 
 
 Thoughts of the wise, concealed from ancient time, 
 
 And note with marvel God in many forms. 
 
 So then the son of Nebat flees betimes 
 To his Egyptian eyrie ! I had thought 
 To cage the pert young osprey, and clip wing. 
 And claw ! Now will he nurture his resolves, 
 Until full grown in craft and naughtiness. 
 Spreading his insolent wing once more, 
 He will return to vex the land : nor he 
 Alone : but not in my day, as I think. 
 We see the long-projected shadow cast 
 Of storm to come, while we sit in the sun. 
 Verily 'twere not wise to trammel up 
 The future with the hour of present peace.
 
 SOLOMON SENESCENS. 101 
 
 My son must heed. Meanwhile our throne remains : 
 
 No fall is here for tale or chronicle, 
 
 Or parable, with sigh and halting breath ! 
 
 No death in life, though slowly fades the flush 
 
 That crimsoned youth — abatement natural ! 
 
 And therefore all is well, no doubt, despite 
 
 The surly prophet and his apologue. 
 
 Ho ! Ethan ! tell the Persian sage to seek 
 The ivory summer house at eve, and let 
 Him bring the astrolabe — but secretly. 
 His art is curious, though perhaps he lies.
 
 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 
 
 Not a cloud or vapour dim 
 
 From the zenith to eai^th's rim ! 
 
 Smooth the heaven's countenance 
 
 Like to prophet's in a trance ! 
 
 Or to vestal's in her calm, 
 
 When she saith the prayer or psalm, 
 
 And with heaven in her eye 
 
 Droopeth into ecstasy ! 
 
 Han OS the moon's fair coronet 
 
 In the skies mid-violet ! 
 
 Never beamed so rich an argent, 
 
 To young lovers by the margent 
 
 Of the dear enchanted shore ; 
 
 Never on the russet moor 
 
 Waking shepherd with delight 
 
 Bathed in such a fountain bright ! 
 
 As from all the world's wide ways, 
 
 Stained with travel, length of days. 
 
 Came they, Avhen the night was late. 
 
 To the great King's palace gate. 
 
 High above them glisten walls. 
 
 Shafts, and columns, pedestals. 
 
 Mighty towers, and spires at last.
 
 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 103 
 
 Till the sense of sight is past, 
 Irised with the hues that deck 
 In the spring the wild dove's neck ; 
 But with silver shimmering 
 Of the moonlight's burnishing. 
 Yet the light was still more fair 
 Where it met the torches' flare 
 In the many lattices — 
 Turned them all to topazes. 
 Now the gate swings wide to all 
 
 On its hinges musical ; 
 
 And they go unto the feast 
 
 From the greatest to the least ; 
 
 While the minstrels in their order 
 
 Breathe upon the low recorder, 
 
 On the drum make joyful stir, 
 
 Stroke the silver dulcimer, 
 
 Gaily harp and zither twang, 
 
 Bells and cymbals loudly clang 
 
 As they march the guests before 
 
 Through each sounding corridor. 
 
 Now they thrid a muffled aisle 
 
 Where the music halts awhile, 
 
 In the darkness quivering. 
 
 As the shadow of a wing 
 
 Cast by bird beneath the sun, 
 
 When he fills the highest throne. 
 Till, emerging from the gloom, 
 Enter all the presence-room. 
 Where the light is more than day,
 
 104 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 
 
 Here they stand in meek array, 
 Whilst is heard the room around 
 Silver simmer of sweet sound : 
 Viols plead Avith tender cry, 
 Harp and lute expectant sigh, 
 INIurmur anxiously the drums — 
 Strains prelusive till he comes. 
 
 Mighty was that King, yet mild, 
 Truth, and honour undefiled, 
 Justice firm, and wisdom clear, 
 In his face sublime appear— 
 Eoyal will and empery 
 Blended with benignity. 
 Slow he treads the populous hall— 
 ' 0, my friends, I welcome all 
 To this high solemnity. 
 Who have come in charity ; 
 But from this our feast to-day 
 Must one spot be purged away,' —   
 Pausing then in awful sadness. 
 Each one doubting his own gladness, 
 Questions, as he passes by, 
 Tremulously, ' Is it I V 
 But the intruder, speechless held, 
 By his contrast stands revealed, 
 In his sordid raiment dight, 
 All the rest in caftans Avhite — 
 As a raven from the rock 
 Mid a pigeons' milky flock.
 
 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 105 
 
 Then the King, his speech resuming — 
 ' In what pride, on what presuming. 
 Friend without the garment meet, 
 Hast thou come unto my seat 1' 
 Silence then, and beating hearts, 
 "Whilst the guest in shame departs, 
 From the feast, the song, the light. 
 
 Into solitary night. 
 
 Now the moon is in her grave ; 
 Cloud on cloud, and wave on wave, 
 Knits the tempest, warp and woof. 
 Cerements for the starry roof. 
 From the lonely fields arise 
 Wind-borne, wind-torn elegies, 
 Spirit-breathed — ' 0, had I known ' — 
 (While the wind's sad undertone 
 Swells and falls, but does not cease) — 
 ' What belonged unto my peace ' — 
 (Then, as with a world of sighs) — 
 ' Hid for ever from mine eyes ! '
 
 LEGEND OF S. CHPJSTOPHER. 
 
 The old legend of St. Christopher appears, as might be 
 expected, in various forms. The version I follow is briefly 
 this : — Off"erus, a heathen, and a man of immense stature, 
 resolved to devote his strength to the greatest of kings. 
 In pursuance of this purpose he entered the service of the 
 Emperor of Christendom. But presently, finding that the 
 Emperor was afraid of the devil, Offerus entered the service 
 of the latter, as being greater than the Emperor. And 
 they twain, the legend says, went round the world, until, 
 coming to a spot where the Cross was erected, he dis- 
 covered that the devil trembled at that sign. Therefore 
 Offerus determined to embrace the service of Christ as 
 greater than all. Ignorant, but ardent, he wandered in the 
 quest of his new master ; but ultimately gave himself to 
 works of charity, as will be told. Nor was his wish to 
 see Christ granted, save as also the story will say. 
 
 I. 
 
 S. CHRISTOPHER AT THE FORD. 
 
 I, Ofierus, once heathen, noAV of Christ, 
 Still wait for Him. At first I said, ' Declare
 
 S. CHRISTOPHER AT THE FORD. 107 
 
 But where he lives, and I will scale all hills, 
 
 And cross all seas, to come unto His seat 
 
 — Aye, though a thousand monsters bar the way.' 
 
 (In the fierce pride of youth, I doubted not 
 
 To deal with all, as with the lions twain 
 
 That loomed against me on the Libyan sand, 
 
 Whilst a scant moon just showed their burning eyes ; 
 
 When by the mane the lordly male I seized, 
 
 And swung him, hammerwise, against his mate 
 
 — Dashed both to silence and to vulture meat.) 
 
 For many held that Christ had come again ; 
 And whispers ran about the dark world then, 
 As sparks that quicken on a half-quenched brand. 
 Of a strange budding forth of grace divine. 
 With radiant blooms of special miracle. 
 So when men said, ' Lo ! here is Christ or there,' 
 I journeyed, on the mere report, to find 
 The substance of the tale attenuate — 
 Resolved into the glamour of dim woods, 
 Where myriad pine stems cozen still the eye 
 Or glimmer of marsh lights, or shadow seen 
 By caves and hollows of the moonlit hills, 
 Or, at the best, a vision in a dream. 
 Thereto, the portents manifold forsook 
 Their bulk and hue, and fell into the list 
 Of daily things. Thus sought I, bearing cold 
 Beyond dim Thule, at the end of things, 
 Where the un travelled snows retain 
 The flushing of the indignant sunless skies ; 
 Or, wand'ring farther than the swallow flits,
 
 108 LEGEND OF S. CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 Gaining at length some orient land of fire, 
 Gasped for the shadow of great rocks in vain. 
 
 And yet my soul gasped more for Christ, nor ceased 
 The hunger and the thirst to see His face, 
 Before His feet to fall, nor ceased the quest 
 By weary land and sea, until the wheel 
 Of Time brought round the Autumn of my age. 
 For wisdom, as the crude fruit of the sloe 
 That ripens not before the frosts begin. 
 Delayed with me : until I chanced on one 
 Who said, ' Thy Lord would rather thou shouldst do 
 The least thing in His house below, than run 
 For ever to the door to see Him come.' 
 
 Wherefore I only wait ; nor curdle life 
 With vehement desire, returning void. 
 But by this riverside abide in peace, 
 And carry pilgrims, shoulder-borne, across 
 The flood, for love's sake, and until He comes.
 
 II. 
 
 S. CHRISTOPHER AND THE CHILD. 
 
 Bent somewhat from the straight of youth, with arms 
 
 Scarce equal to the tasks of former years, 
 
 When he avouIcI take a fifth year sapling oak 
 
 And twist it snakewise to the earth, yet stood 
 
 The old man by his door, like Greek god carved 
 
 For temple frieze, that puts to glorious shame 
 
 Some sculptor's shed, ere it be placed. All day, 
 
 As with loud horns and trumpets pealed the wind ; 
 
 Arrowlike fell the rain. He looked across 
 
 The tawny water by the ford, where die 
 
 Day's lights the last, and marked the solid stream 
 
 As if some lake among the hills, wide, deep. 
 
 Through conduit cut by sudden earthquake thrust, 
 
 Bodily slipped by. The young moon's frail skiff. 
 
 That in her going forth with free prow sailed. 
 
 Now foundered in the black sea overhead. 
 
 then with open diapason wind. 
 
 And stream victoriously shouted ! He, 
 
 Withdrawing soon, enkindled his small lamp 
 
 And sat to read : the parchment, his one prize. 
 
 Yellow with age's amber, spread : intent, 
 
 With large slow finger, traced each mystic word :
 
 110 LEGEND OF S. CHRISTOPHER, 
 
 ' Descended rain, blew wind, rushed floods, and beat 
 
 Upon that house, that fell not, founded on 
 
 A rock.' ' Thou art my Eock,' he said, ' Christ ! ' 
 
 Loud roared the tempest round that cabin rude ; 
 
 But in the wake of that vast sound a cry, 
 
 Feeble and piteous, of lost child, or lamb. 
 
 Rising, he girt his loins, and touched the latch. 
 
 Again, distressful, pleading, sobbing came. 
 
 In the wind's pauses, that shrill call. He grasped 
 
 His staff, and hastened forth into the night. 
 
 Next morning pilgrims coming to his door, 
 
 Not open as was wont, entered and saw 
 
 The strong man drawing to his end. To these 
 
 He, with a humble, yet exalted air, 
 
 Declared what had befallen. Even this : 
 
 That crossing the wild river he had found 
 
 A tender boy, who wept and did not speak ; 
 
 Whom taking on his shoulder scarce he held 
 
 Above the tossing water of the ford. 
 
 For little compass had the infant's arms, 
 
 And deeper ran the river than before, 
 
 And fiercer blew the wind across the pines. 
 
 While as he fought the flood, intolerable 
 
 The burden of the child became, until 
 
 His neck was bowed unto the leaping surge. 
 
 But when he thought to cast away the child — 
 
 It was a shame he might not do. Therefore 
 
 He called on God. So gained, sore spent, the shore.
 
 S. CHRISTOPHER AND THE CHILD. Ill 
 
 When lo ! a wonder was revealed to him — 
 
 Panting he shd the Httle one adown 
 
 — StraightAvay, serene, august, indued Avith light, 
 
 Glorious in mould, the child transfigured stood, 
 
 Who said with sweetness, ' Inasmuch as thou, 
 
 man, wouldst do this thing for My least child 
 
 Know then thou hast performed it unto Me. 
 
 Not Offerus, but Christopher, shall men 
 
 Call him, who bore the Christ across the flood.'
 
 III. 
 
 S. CHRISTOPHER'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 I, Christopher, speak now to you, my friends. 
 Tremblingly my new name. Perhaps this crown 
 Had been too bright to wear, had life remained ; 
 But now I go at once before the throne. 
 Nor stay to lose the wonder of the grace. 
 
 Returns to-night, how clearly o'er the years, 
 The misty April wood, asteam with scent 
 Of opening leaves, and a blue world of flowers. 
 Where the grave palmer found me in the sun, 
 Wearied with hunting in the earlier morn — 
 I, in my thought and wish scarce more than flesh ; 
 And he, God's swordsman keenly to divide 
 The flesh and spirit, with a word. For he. 
 Observing me, like a felled oak (he said), 
 Cried, ' Noble were this strength, if nobly used. 
 For Christ and Truth.' Whereat I rose abashed, 
 Pricked somewhere in the sluggish soul of me ; 
 While yet rejoicing that he praised my strength, 
 Discerning dimly greater end of life 
 Might be, than hunting of the stag and boar 
 — More lasting fruit of this one gift of mine. 
 I echoed, ' Christ and Truth': strange names, new powers, 
 That urged me forth to seek, I scarce knew what.
 
 s. Christopher's departure. 113 
 
 For yet he added, seeing me a child 
 
 In knowledge and in art, ' Take thou a yoke 
 
 Upon thy wildness, and learn thou to serve.' 
 
 While I — ' The greatest -will I serve, none less.' 
 
 He smiled and went his way to some far shrine. 
 
 Dubiously exploring my new path, 
 
 I came to Rome. — And Eome returns to-night ! 
 
 — The flickering wraith of the pale king — the groups 
 
 Of masks surmounting robes pontifical. 
 
 Or knightly harness, by the throne. Bad days 
 
 AVere those, when goodness seemed a caitiff thing 
 
 — Evil imperially glittered, night 
 
 And da}^, a presence with me to control ! 
 
 When I, not able to endui-e the mixed 
 
 Lisrhts of the time, ran back into the dark ! 
 
 (Merciful God, Thou hast passed by those days \) 
 
 Eeturns the way-side cross, whereby I sat 
 Invoking Him until the evil presence fled, 
 Keturn the many lands, the far-off" isles, 
 I sought, till that I reached this spot of peace. 
 Yet now I know I must fare forth again — 
 But ye, my friends, are ye not multiplied 1 
 Do ye not wear your festal robes to-day 1 
 The cabin fills ! — friends I greet you all ! — 
 Now make ye way, and follow to the stream — • 
 Ah God, a deeper stream ! But He bears me !
 
 WILL SUP WITH HIM AND HE 
 WITH ME." 
 
 Fell the night on field and river : 
 Scarce one trembling star did qniver, 
 'TA\dxt the closing lids of day, 
 On the traveller's darkling way ; 
 When I saw a form approaching, 
 Through the wild-wood fast encroaching 
 On my garden's proper bound, 
 Where no fruit, alas ! was found. 
 Oh, the garden of my sowing ! 
 Roots of bitterness were growing, 
 Leafage for a fading crown ; 
 Eut no plant of true renown. 
 Then the summons came, expected 
 By my heart's fear, and rejected 
 Ere I heard him call my name. 
 In those tones that shook my frame 
 — Blended tones of trumpet pealing 
 Battlewise ; then, gently stealing, 
 Pleading after clangour sharp. 
 Tones as of a human harp. 
 Thus I answered, respite gaining. 
 To my old thought troth maintaining, 
 "Hence ! Away ! the night is late ! 
 Quit these precincts desolate !
 
 "I ^VILL SUP WITH HIM AND HE WITH ME," 115 
 
 Quenched upon my hearth each ember, 
 Here for thee is no guest chamber : 
 Bread unleavened, and for wine 
 Water of affliction, mine ! " 
 Churlish, evil was my greeting; 
 But methoLight I heard the beating 
 Of a kind heart through the door, 
 As he called ray name once more. 
 " From a far land have I sought thee. 
 And in pity have I brought thee 
 Living water, li\ang bread 
 Such as ne'er thy fathers fed." 
 Then the door I opened slowly, 
 And the Unknown meek and lowly, 
 Sprinkled o'er with soft starlight. 
 Entered from the purple night. 
 Light came with him, light prevailing 
 More and more, as when unveiling, 
 Breaking through the cloudy fleece, 
 Shines the moon with vast increase. 
 Then, heart, to thy surprising. 
 Vanished all thy ill surmising, 
 As amidst that tranquil light 
 Stood disclosed thy Lord to sight ; 
 And, when uttered the Hosanna, 
 Thy bread broken seemed as manna : — 
 And thou drankest draughts of peace 
 From the founts that do not cease. 
 " Kinsman," said He, " younger brother, 
 jSTo Kedeemer hast thou other, 
 
 i2
 
 116 "I WILL SUP WITH HIM AND HE WITH ME. 
 
 From thy sorrow and thy sin, 
 
 Than whom scarce thou tookest in. 
 
 But if I, thy poor life sharing, 
 
 Through this first world with thee faring, 
 
 Hallow thus thy daily life. 
 
 Give thus peace instead of strife, 
 
 Thou with me, beyond dim Hades, 
 
 Past the dread vale where death's shade is. 
 
 Through the long long days of heaven, 
 
 Shinino; each with lisht of seven, 
 
 Shalt sit down, with spirits vestal, 
 
 By joy-rivers clear as crystal — 
 
 'Neath the spreading boughs of bliss 
 
 Pluck the golden fruit, I wis. 
 
 Where the Tree of Life doth stand. 
 
 Sing the NeAV song in that land."
 
 CCEDMON. 
 
 A herdsman was I — russet prophet now, 
 
 As by the rede of Holy Writ was he, 
 
 Who cropped the meagre fruit of sycamores, 
 
 Amos, God's spokesman in the ancient days, — 
 
 A forthright soul, who, not with sword and bow, 
 
 But Avith great strokes of words dealt mightily ; 
 
 So I unskilful sing on these harsh shores. 
 
 And God doth round my rude song to His praise. 
 
 Prophet in some sort : though I may not say 
 God singeth thus by me ; yet sing I thus 
 By God. This tongue by Him is marvellous : 
 These eyes and ears are urged to sharper sense 
 By the great over-Lord, as day by day. 
 Thrall-like they wait in His Divine Presence. 
 
 H. 
 
 Shamefaced among my fellows at the feast, 
 
 I sat as fool, the proper scorn of all, 
 
 " Come twang thy harp," they cried, " thou silent guest 
 
 Strike but one spark from that dull soul of thine." 
 
 I fled the hall, and said " Yea beast to beast !" 
 
 And slept among the oxen of the stall.
 
 118 CCEDMON. 
 
 That self-same night a vision came and blest 
 
 With new aspect my spirit saturnine. 
 
 "Coedmon arise," one said, "and sing thy hymn. 
 To me the tongue e'en of the dumb shalt sing." 
 " Alas," I said, " I have no song to bring !" 
 " Nay thou shalt sing," said he, " the order slow 
 Of the world's story, to its ending dim." 
 I woke God's minstrel in the world below.
 
 BEZALEEL. 
 
 Oft have I walked o' nights around the camp — 
 
 The folded flock of Hebrew tents — alone, 
 
 To mark where, heart-like, in the midst there stood, 
 
 Glowing beneath a fiery-tinted cloud. 
 
 The dwelling of Jehovah, pausing then 
 
 To muse how mine own works were there enshrined, 
 
 Yet hidden always from mine eyes — the lamp 
 
 Of gold with branches seven, like a fair tree, 
 
 With bowls made like unto the almond flowers 
 
 Dimpled by God's own hand ; and the great veil 
 
 With banded colours of the sky and clouds, 
 
 Disclosing figures of the cherubim 
 
 To represent the wisdom manifold, 
 
 And worship of the world — all wrought by me, 
 
 And by Aholiab of Dan. But chief 
 
 Have I recalled the wistful forms of gold, 
 
 With outstretched wings above the ark, that bow 
 
 For ever in the darkness of the shrine. 
 
 Even as my spirit bows before the Lord. 
 
 Thus stirred, have I lived o'er again the time 
 
 AVhen God's power mastered us, yet left us free 
 
 (Not men the less, because so full of God) 
 
 So that in line and curve, clustered or sole, 
 
 From angel faces to the ruby seeds 
 
 Of split pomegranates, all the forms were wrought
 
 1 20 BEZALEEL. 
 
 In truth, with uttermost of patient grace. 
 
 (It is the last fine touch that makes divine) 
 
 AVhile in the wholeness of the measured parts 
 
 And correspondences, the final work 
 
 Contained a parable, that all the Avise 
 
 Might read of the great building of the world. 
 
 Then as a sharp sword piercing comes the thought 
 
 " Yea, this has been thy history : — Upborne 
 
 A brief while to the gates of heaven and day ! 
 
 Then falling Avingless to the twilight world ! 
 
 The joyous forms of god-like thoughts have passed ! 
 
 Thy fruits and flowers are but earth's common yield, 
 
 Without a hint of Paradise to-day!" • 
 
 Yet have I had my past ! God moved through me ! 
 
 The barren days succeeding have no power 
 
 To blot the richness of the scroll's first hne. 
 
 But in the dreams and visions of the night 
 
 Some messenger of grace has seemed to say 
 
 (The Lord forgive if that his servant errs) 
 
 "Thou and Ahohab were set for signs. 
 
 Beyond the purpose of those Avorks ye did, 
 
 Of days not yet revealed, when not alone 
 
 The elders of your tribes, and priests within 
 
 The verge of sanctities ye see not ; but, 
 
 Weavers, artificers, and craftsmen all, 
 
 Yea, and the common men that tend the sheep 
 
 And bear the burdens of a menial life. 
 
 Shall be anointed for their various Avork, 
 
 And live under the very breath of God 
 
 In those great days that lie beyond your ken."
 
 A LONDON AUTISAN. 
 
 In Tenebris. 
 
 I " oughtn't 1 " Why oughtn't ? I tell you it's bred in 
 
 the bone ! 
 Blame my " inherited impulses," doctor ! leave me alone, 
 For I know what passions from birth, and before that, 
 
 wrought in my dust —   
 The fire, that drink cannot quench, the worm never dying 
 
 of lust. 
 My father, men say, was a devil, who loved to sully the 
 
 white 
 Of souls that believing gave all, as they thought, to an 
 
 angel of light : 
 And my mother, poor soul, was a weakling who madly 
 
 struggled to save 
 Some rags and tatters of virtue, then drank herself into 
 
 her grave. 
 
 Not many minutes to live, do you say ? All right ! Let 
 
 us finish up well ! 
 I'll give you a toast — gin or brandy ? — the abolition of 
 
 Hell ! 
 Though I would there were something in store for the 
 
 man who gave me this life, 
 And murdered the body and soul of her he should have 
 
 made wife.
 
 122 A LONDON ARTISAN. 
 
 Aye but I felt rather queer -when the parson was telling 
 
 his tale ! 
 Fancies I had that made my cheek turn, like enough, a bit 
 
 pale ! 
 For he talked about sin, as if 'twere an actual living 
 
 thing : — 
 A serpent he called it that stings souls like fate, and will 
 
 sting ! 
 And I felt the beast coiled round my heart-strings, roll 
 
 upon roll, 
 Throttling me, poisoning me — aye the very blood of my 
 
 soul. 
 Then he talked about Him too, doctor, you know whom I 
 
 mean. 
 Till I saw his face plain as daylight, and cursed my folly 
 
 and sin — 
 Such a face ! — so sad-like, and I thought he was sorry for 
 
 me, 
 And it near broke my heart to think what I had been — 
 
 might be. 
 So I swore if he'd help me and save me out of ray fears 
 I'd turn a new leaf that night, and blot it only with tears. 
 And thinks I — there's Lucy — I'll be a better man to her 
 
 now, poor lass ! 
 And the children — nay Thomas Briggs not ever another 
 
 glass ! 
 
 And the devil says he to me, " You never mind, old pal ! 
 Don't all the clever men tell you straight there aint no 
 hell ?
 
 A LONDON ARTISAN. 123 
 
 Have thy fling, man ! Its natur', I tell thee, and natur' 
 
 will rule. 
 Leave religion to women, and don't be a methody fool." 
 
 Eight o'clock do you say — morning 1 It ought to be 
 
 light.— 
 Doctor, I say, suppose after all the parson was right '? — 
 There's a sound at the door like a great flood roaring and 
 
 tumbling — hark ! 
 Doctor, I say, can you pray 1 — my God— it's dark ! —
 
 FATE, LAW, AND CHRIST. 
 
 "Proserpina plumbea pede." 
 ' ' Rar5 antecedentem scelestiim 
 Deseruit pede Poena claudo.'' — Horace. 
 
 "There is no such thing' as spontaneonsness in nature." — Tymdall. 
 ' ' Mercy and trutli are met together ; righteousness and peace have 
 kissed each other." — Psalm lxxxv., 10. 
 
 I. 
 
 They said of old that Fate was sure, 
 And by no craft of man was balked ; 
 For though with leaden foot she walked, 
 She I'eached at last the sinner's door. 
 With leaden foot, but iron will, 
 Where'er the guilty man might dwell, 
 And fondly hope that all was well, 
 With faultless scent, she followed still. 
 He wandered haply o'er the sea, 
 And bought and sold with large increase. 
 And clad him in the robes of peace : 
 — The trail is all confused, thought he. 
 And gaily carolled — dreamt no wrong : 
 The uneasy self within his breast 
 He stroked, and soothed and sang to rest : 
 "Dear soul, now saunter life along !
 
 FATE, LAW, AND CHRIST. 125 
 
 " Joy-harvests shall be now thy due ! 
 Nor blasting storms on this new path, 
 Like winter on the aftermath, 
 For thy forgotten sin ensue ! " 
 And so, it might be, long years ran 
 A harmless course, and joined the past : 
 Then her fierce cry rang out at last, 
 " Lo ! this the hour, and this the man 1 " 
 Thus said they in the olden time — 
 And still they sang how Zeus the great, 
 Above the Fury and the Fate, 
 Sat ever on his throne sublime ; 
 Who aye reserved some royal space 
 (Though lesser gods would oft perplex 
 With jealousies and counter checks) 
 Wherein to show a suppliant grace ; 
 — Pure freedom's uncontrolled domain, 
 Where Fate-tossed souls might shelter find 
 And prayer from a submissive mind, 
 With ofterings meet, might answer gain. 
 
 II. 
 
 A modern page I read of late 
 — How Law the universe controls ; 
 The soulless taskmaster of souls. 
 More terrible than ancient Fate, 
 Extremer, swifter, stronger far, 
 To whom mechanic government 
 All powers and forces yield assent 
 And ministering agents are.
 
 126 FATE, LAW, AND CHRIST. 
 
 Yea, Law, I read, is Zeus to-day ; 
 
 There is no other god than It: 
 
 The cold Impersonal doth sit 
 
 And watch the erring world alway. 
 
 A thousand tribes their woes rehearse, 
 
 Cry to high heaven's remorseless bars. 
 
 Cry to the unavailing stars, 
 
 Cry through the Arctic universe : 
 
 " Is there no Heart that bids us Come ? 
 
 No greater Soul to answer soul ? " 
 
 From sphere to sphere, from pole to pole. 
 
 The new Divinity is dumb ; 
 
 Nor smiles, nor grieves for men below ; 
 
 Knits action and the consequence ; 
 
 And knows no pulse of difference 
 
 As the great seons come and go. 
 
 An image in a changeless calm. 
 
 It turns not from its awful loom ; 
 
 But weaves the life of man with doom, 
 
 And heeds not breath of prayer or psalm. 
 
 — Not more unmoved the silent sphinx 
 
 When chants of passing pilgrims rise ; 
 
 Or when the drowning sailor's cries 
 
 Are borne across the sandy links. 
 
 The wise men raise their paeans — " Hail ! 
 
 Thou hear'st us not, eternal Mute ! 
 
 Yet will we sing the Absolute, 
 
 Unknowable, Ironical I 
 
 Strange Lord art thou of Helicon ! 
 
 Strange source of love, at love that mocks !
 
 FATE, LAW, AND CHRIST. 127 
 
 The Everlasting Paradox ! 
 The Infinite Automaton!" 
 
 If this he god essentiallij, 
 Alas that I was ever hm-n ! 
 Or " suckled in a creed outioorn " 
 Had not long ages ceased to he I 
 
 III. 
 
 On lonely hills I wandered forth, 
 
 Beneath a low and burdened sky : 
 
 In gloomy file swept slowl}'- by 
 
 Titanic clouds from out the north, 
 
 And settled round the dark concave : 
 
 Between, the thunder-rack clashed fast : 
 
 And, lo ! a whirlwind hurtled past. 
 
 That through the shrinking landscape drave ; 
 
 And, yoked with fire and black eclipse, 
 
 Vrith dreadful noise besieged the town. 
 
 And cast the towers and steeples down. 
 
 And roaring seawards smote the ships. 
 
 " God," I cried, "how strong Thy hand ! 
 
 I see Thy glorj-, mighty Lord ! 
 
 The stroke of Thine avenging word. 
 
 Nor skies, nor earth, nor seas withstand." 
 
 Yet while within my hiding place 
 
 I looked on all with troubled glance. 
 
 The heaven's most awful countenance 
 
 Pierced through the light from the far space 
 
 — Where flows its fountain undefiled —
 
 128 PATE, LAW, AND CHRIST. 
 
 Now swiftly melting, cloud by cloud, 
 
 (While breezes echoed not too loud) 
 
 Ilelented everywhere and smiled, 
 
 And all the earth was asphodels, 
 
 And all the air was fluent gold. 
 
 I said unto my heart : — " Behold, 
 
 Here is a glory that excels." 
 
 And now I read of life and death, 
 
 Of sin, and God's sword-bearer, Law, 
 
 Until, as in a glass I saw 
 
 A face, like His of Nazareth, 
 
 All sad as turned toward's Death's goal, 
 
 And pale against the stormy skies. 
 
 Then round the head began to rise 
 
 An arc, like painter's aureole, 
 
 Yet clear; and through that lucent dome, 
 
 I saw some hovering cherubim ; 
 
 A naked cross on the world's rim ; 
 
 And women by an open tomb. 
 
 The storm was past, the guerdon won ! 
 
 And, for the joy before Him set. 
 
 That face more marred than any yet, 
 
 Was changed, and shone as doth the sun.. 
 
 I closed the book, and said again : 
 
 " Thou art the man that loved me ! 
 
 Forgiveness surely is with thee ; 
 
 And thou canst break sin's fateful chain.' 
 
 A still, small voice came from above. 
 
 The while I couched even to the dust : — 
 
 " God doth forgive, and yet isjitst : 
 
 And Law is servant unto Lave."
 
 GETHSEMANE. 
 
 The Master after supper went, 
 
 In sorrowful bewilderment, 
 
 And took with Him disciples three, 
 
 To pray in dark Gethsemane. 
 High on her hills Jerusalem 
 Pallid appeared, while each tree stem, 
 Each branch, with dusky blazonry. 
 Barred all her moonlit masonry. 
 
 He kneeleth in the dim woodland : 
 The olive trees all listening stand ; 
 For sorrow's self it seems to be 
 Tliat weeps, in dark Gethsemane. 
 
 Their plumes the powers of darkness preen. 
 
 And stretch their wings above the scene : 
 
 vShadow on shadow sullenly 
 
 Bends to behold that agony. 
 
 'Tis not the moaning of the wind : 
 It is the mourning of His mind : 
 what is dropping fearfully 
 This hour in dark Gethsemane 1 
 
 God only knows God's sorrow, friends ! 
 
 Ye know no plummet that descends 
 
 To sound that deep ! We skim the sea — 
 
 Below, the abyss of mystery ! 
 K
 
 130 GETHSEMANE. 
 
 Peter, eager heart ! Canst thou 
 Not watch one hour with Jesus now 1 
 And you, twin souls in truth ! do ye 
 Too fail in dark Gethsemane 1 
 
 In that dread hour beset, dismayed, 
 He turned and saw the murky shade 
 Divided, flamewise, slenderly, 
 Where watched one angel tenderly. 
 
 The Lamb unto the slaughter goes : 
 
 The Dove is snared, and plucked the Eose ; 
 
 The snake, enwound about life's tree, 
 
 Hisses in dark Gethsemane. 
 
 It was the hour of their power. Came 
 No legions, with their swords of flame, 
 To guard Him then. Alone must He 
 The Avinepress tread, for you and me.
 
 MOLOCH. 
 1. 
 
 Men and women of our England 
 Have you heard it ? — What is done 
 
 To the nestlings and the fledglings 
 From the rise to set of sun 1 
 
 Have you heard the dreadful rumour 
 Of the covenant with death 1 
 
 Fathers, mothers, grudge their children 
 Even simple vital breath ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Sure primeval man was kinder 
 When he framed his bridal bower. 
 
 In a seacave, or a hollow 
 Of the forest, 'mid the flower 
 
 4. 
 
 Of the larches, and the bracken — 
 Lived and laughed and loved the sun, 
 
 Got him sons and got him daughters, 
 Careless may be of each one. 
 k2
 
 132 MOLOCH. 
 
 5. 
 
 Now the young thing in its voyage 
 Reaching earth with Avonder mild — 
 
 Ghoul meets ghoul and barters grimly 
 For the body of the child. 
 
 6. 
 
 Used by such are sacred titles 
 With their meaning all reversed, 
 
 Names sublime and symbols holy, 
 Flattened down to sense accursed ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Mother, father ! Trull and bully ! 
 
 Son and daughter ! Slave and thrall 
 Baby love-links — Life's beginning ! 
 
 L^ist's invested capital ! 
 
 8. 
 
 Sad young pilgrims in the twilight 
 'Twixt one darkness and the next ! 
 
 Daily loom on them the phantoms, 
 That we only see perplext 
 
 9. 
 
 In our dreams, and wake to scorn them ; 
 
 But they shape unto their view 
 Apish, wolfish, diabolic, 
 
 And Dmj know that they are true !
 
 MOLOCH. 133 
 
 10. 
 
 Yea the children have their being 
 In the terror — crouch Avithin 
 
 Till a form shall bulk the doorway 
 In a reek of fog and gin, 
 
 11. 
 
 Take and cast them into Torture's 
 
 Inner circle of despair. 
 Thus they live in their C4ehenna, 
 
 And no hope doth enter there ! 
 
 12. 
 
 Or the faces are not drunken ; 
 
 But are moulded on a plan, 
 As of fearful mediation 
 
 'Tvvixt a devil and a man. 
 
 13. 
 
 Nakedness, starvation, squalor. 
 Foul miasma, deadly chill ! 
 
 Wasting fever, leprous ulcer — 
 All is grist unto their mill. 
 
 14. 
 
 INIarked with whip, Avith iron branded. 
 Dwarfed by injuries unknown, 
 
 All the young child shadows passing 
 Cluster round an unseen throne.
 
 I'Si MOLOCH. 
 
 15. 
 
 There the great World-Christ receives them, 
 Calms their panic, sets them free ; 
 
 Folds them, soothes them — " Hush my children ! 
 They have done it unto Me !" 
 
 16. 
 
 But to us indignant calls He, 
 
 Who presume to bear His name : — 
 
 " These my little kindred suffer ! 
 
 Mine the wrong, but yours the shame." 
 
 Note. — Vide reports and inquests touching Infant Life Assurance.
 
 THE POACHER. 
 
 "Aye, in the lane twixt the chapel and church 
 I seed him as plain as my hand here now." 
 
 Plain enough that ! we were fishing for perch, 
 And his hand held over the westward bow. 
 
 Seemed carved of black basalt, knuckle and crease ; 
 
 For the lake brimmed over with vivid sheen. 
 All saffron and silver, from fleece on fleece 
 
 Of belated clouds, where the sun had been. 
 
 " It's twal' year aboot come next easter sin' 
 My mate who was fishing off yonder ness 
 
 By himsel' in the whishtful dusk, slipped in — 
 Five fathom of water there, as I guess. 
 
 And a laucaP'' preacher improved the death 
 At th' Methodis' chapel o' Sunday next — 
 
 T'auld Body! — ' Thou takkest away their breath, 
 They die and return to the dust,' his text. 
 
 I'd been a harrigantj blayguard, ye ken, 
 T'auld over my sins like Cat'olic beads ; 
 
 But the word o' the Lord gripped hauld o' me then, 
 Till I shivered like these here wobbling reeds. 
 
 * Local. 
 
 t He means that the chapel belonged to the original body of 
 Wesleyan Methodists. 
 I Arrogant.
 
 136 THE rOACIIER. 
 
 Aye, aye, but I was a bad un ! " — A pause 
 While he puffed his pipe, and put on a bait — 
 
 " Says Scriptur' : ' I'll put a hook in his jaws :' 
 (Keep t' line taut. T' perch are getting agate.) 
 
 I tell ye I felt the power o' His might 
 Drawing me willy or nilly that day, 
 
 See, just as I draw this perch up to light — 
 Fair felling my pride by His power, I say. 
 
 But still for all that, the drinker was there. 
 The feyter,* the poacher, ye vuiderstand : 
 
 So I wrastled on and on, till in prayer 
 / seed him go f ram me plain as my hand." 
 
 In silence the old man handled his gear. 
 
 A twisted and crumpled shadoAv was he — 
 A shadow, a voice in the twilight clear 
 
 Talking his mystical language to me. 
 
 " That varra night," he went on again, 
 
 " I hard Him say : ' Tell me, what is thy name 1 
 
 ' Lord, I'm a blay guard ; but save me ! ' Eh then 
 T'auld Adam tvent out/ram me like a fame, 
 
 And vanished away across the churchyard. 
 
 And I hollaed out, ' t' auld Adam is gone ! ' 
 liike crier in t' market. All t' village hard : — 
 
 'An addle-brained drunkard,' says they, 'is yon.' 
 
 *■ Fighter.
 
 THE I'OACHEK. 137 
 
 Aye, 'twas a merricle — a3-e just to snatch 
 
 A brand out of t' burning and quench, once more ! 
 
 Eh 1 T'auld Adam fumbles sometimes at the latch ; 
 But canna get in. T' Almighty keeps t' door." 
 
 The mere now barred like a sardonyx stone 
 
 Hath dove-coloured margins dim and withdrawn ; 
 
 Half spectral our boat seems on the clear zone ; 
 Shadows are stretching from hill and from lawn. 
 
 Old friend, who Avould chide and say thou art mad 1 
 
 Or correct with nice dialectical skill 1 
 Ah not I ! — Ex-poacher, ex-most things bad ! 
 
 Moss round thy heart-faith with fantasy still !
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Mks. J. Spencer Jones, of Llandudno. 
 
 How pure the air that wanders round this hill, 
 
 Surcharged with odours caught from shrub and flower^ 
 
 And from a thousand small herbs sweeter still, 
 That veil the rocks with innocent glamour. 
 
 And nestling close in fragrant amity, 
 
 Soothe all the austere winds with spicery ! 
 
 Before us stretched in many a fine-curved line, 
 Eange after range, each with its variant hue. 
 
 The mountains, changeless, changeful, opaline, 
 For ever born afresh in colours new ; 
 
 Below, the town : the sea, two sides its wall, 
 
 Cleft north and south by this rock terminal. 
 
 Meet place for poet, painter, this — to mark 
 
 The yellow-crested morn arise, or night 
 With purple plumes descend ; or in the arc 
 
 Of heaven the quaint clouds watch, perchance iiow slight 
 As thistle down, now like a fleet in sail. 
 Or now in vast fields, furrowed by the gale. 
 
 Here you might view all seasons, in the hope 
 And labour of their passion, at your ease : — 
 
 Eed Autumn on yon mountain's ferny slope ; 
 Wild Winter in the intervening seas ; 
 
 And Spring yet nearer in these firs, that hear 
 
 So soon her voice ; then — Summer — everywhere.
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 139 
 
 'Twas here, remote, she lived, a lady pure ; 
 
 In loAvliness, in patience versed, in praise ; 
 Her task performing alway — to endure : 
 
 Yet, with high thoughts of Him whose steadfast gaze 
 Looked down the vista of all sorrow, still 
 She whispered "Lo, I come, to do Thy will ! " 
 
 Even as the longing lark within its cage, 
 
 Joining the concert of the skies the while, 
 Sings of the sun and air, its heritage ; 
 
 So, in its fleshly prison, meek exile, 
 The immortal spirit did its part rehearse 
 In the great anthem of the universe. 
 
 " We in this tabernacle," saith the "Word, 
 
 " Do groan." The burden of the travailing world ; 
 
 The burden of ourselves, alas ! O Lord ! — 
 
 (Jur watch-tower hopes from their high eminence hurled, 
 
 Our souls' ideals by the flesh opprest. 
 
 Sins, sorrows, set us craving after rest, 
 
 In mystic light, that gathered more and more, 
 She tarried for the blest enfranchisement : — 
 
 " A light that never was on sea or shore." 
 The Herald's sable, thus with glorj^ bleut, 
 
 Became all argent in that radiancy ; 
 
 And Death toas swallowed np in Victory.
 
 \ 
 
 IN MEMOEIAM. 
 
 Lord Tennyson. 
 
 October, 1892. 
 
 So thou, great Englishman art gone ! 
 
 Hushed is thy voice of vaiious range 
 
 That as a harp well played 
 
 j\Iurmured of all things ; — wooed 
 
 Soft as a flute ; or made 
 
 jMusic as organs deep ; 
 
 Or, as a trumpet shrewd, 
 
 Pealed keenly on the steep 
 
 Of solitary Helicon — 
 
 One voice through sixty years of change !
 
 THE VOICE CRYING IN THE 
 WILDERNESS. 
 
 I HEARD a voice when darkness fell, 
 
 One voice when all was still ; 
 But whence it came I could not tell, 
 
 From plain or far-off hill. 
 
 The sound, wind-parted, sank and rose 
 
 A murmur, then a word, 
 As liver-music ebbs and flows 
 
 By pool and shallow ford. 
 
 Yet one high note amid the strain. 
 
 Amazed, abased, I found ; 
 It echoed in my heart again — 
 
 Eepent was that clear sound. 
 
 The night put on her double veil, 
 
 And blotted out the moon : 
 The voice — now like a mighty gale 
 
 That storms the Avoods in June, 
 
 And sways the whole immense domain 
 
 Between the grass and sky — 
 Cried to all flesh, imperious strain ! 
 
 ' Behold, your God is nigh ! '
 
 H2 THE VOICE CRYING IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 ' Not yet, King ! Delay ! ' I cried. 
 
 Eecall that Avord of doom ! 
 If Thou appear, who may abide 
 
 The day when Thou dost come 1 ' 
 
 But when the dawn grew red with hope 
 
 Behind dark belts of firs, 
 And faint mist slowly mounted up, 
 
 Like tangled gossamers. 
 
 Oh ! then it was a gallant voice — 
 
 A herald's silver horn — 
 That said, ' The King hath come ! Rejoice ! 
 
 And sing this happy morn ! ' 
 
 ^And where, oh, where,' I asked, 'doth He 
 Hold His high court apart ? ' 
 
 * Nay, He is here — He calleth thee. 
 I found Him in my heart !.
 
 VERSICLES. 
 
 John i., 1 — 11. 
 
 In the beginning was the very "Word, 
 •One essence with the Everlasting Lord, 
 
 <3ompanion of the primal loneliness, 
 And Voice of all the heavenly silences. 
 
 The antique atoms, framed in seons old, 
 He with His right hand swept into a mould. 
 
 And spake amid the universal war 
 
 Of elements : " Be still : Behold a star ! " 
 
 Then in the dark-eyed hush of storms, behold 
 ■Orb after orb trimmed each a lamp of gold. 
 
 In the bright sequence of the stellar choirs 
 The new born earth flashed Avith prophetic fires. 
 
 From form to form the eager spirit ran : 
 In Him was life — He gave it unto man ! 
 
 Light too He gave, that showed the arduous way, 
 Upwards, far upwards, to the gates of day. 
 
 baffling way ! weary feet that trod, 
 Through a dim world, that lonely path to God ! 
 
 From His high watch-tower in the heavenly land 
 He looked, He pitied. He stretched forth His hand,
 
 144 VEESICLES. 
 
 He came unto His own, unveiled His face, 
 lievealed the Father, full of truth and grace. 
 
 They knew Him not, nor guessed His wondrous name 
 Nor held out hands of greeting when He came. 
 
 Yet in that darkness rose the Holy Sun 
 That never shall go down while ages run. 
 
 O Light of Life, still rise amid our fears, 
 And make a glory in the dusk of years ! 
 
 Yea shine. Beloved, to the perfect Day, 
 And Time's full circle stand at noon alway !
 
 THE TWO FACES. 
 
 Long watch by her child the mother kept, 
 
 Whilst the sad wind wailed through the winter thorn ; 
 But unconscious of her the sick boy slept, 
 
 And wandered heart-broken in fancy forlorn. 
 
 2. 
 
 For shapes of the night came near and said, 
 As he traversed a champaign bleak and hoar, 
 
 " Thy mother, child, thy mother is dead ! 
 And thou art alone on this desolate shore ! " 
 
 The child sank down on the ghostly Avild, 
 And all silent things into sobbing broke — 
 
 Together they grieved, the world and the child, 
 And echoes on echoes of sorroAv awoke. 
 
 4. 
 
 The far off murmur of this lament 
 
 From the dim wan world where her darling strayed, 
 As over him body and soul she bent, 
 
 Made the vigilant heartful woman afraid.
 
 146 THE TWO FACES. 
 
 And hasting to trim lier slender lamp, 
 She tenderly cried " I am here, m}' son ! " 
 
 And parted the curls from his forehead damp, 
 As she kissed him so softly his cheek upon. 
 
 The child, thus summoned from those sad dreams. 
 Saw a star grow out of a hollow place ; 
 
 Till, behold, lit up by the lamp's faint beams, 
 In the half-gloom above him, his mother's face ! 
 
 " Oive the light of the knowledge of (he glory of God in the Face of 
 Jesus Christ. "
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 Great Lord Christ, my Saviour, 
 Thou art gone forth to war ! 
 
 The powers of darkness throng Thee, 
 Thou bright and morning Star ! 
 
 1 hear Th}' clear voice ringing 
 
 Above the eager fight : — 
 "Come hither, son, and serve Me, 
 And wield the arms of light." 
 
 2. 
 
 I see amid the darkness. 
 
 Where tides of battle toss. 
 Aloft Thy broad white banner, 
 
 Marked with the blood-red cross ! 
 And all around are marshalled 
 
 The men whose hearts are pure : 
 Through Thy anointing Spirit 
 
 They shall, Christ, endure. 
 
 3. 
 
 But I am all unstable 
 
 As a wind-shaken I'eed ! 
 Forgotten vow, and faih^re, 
 
 And sins, my way impede.
 
 148 A HYMN. 
 
 Behold they are as scarlet 
 
 Before Thy Holy Face ! 
 I cannot tell their number : — 
 
 I can but trust Thy grace. 
 
 4. 
 
 Yet would I, Lord, press near Thee, 
 
 And share Thy toil divine : — 
 Thy love's long patient vigil, 
 
 Ere lights of morning shine. 
 My Captain, my Captain, 
 
 Stretch forth Thy nail-pierced hand, 
 And claim me by that token 
 
 One of Thy soldier band !
 
 HOMEWARD. 
 1. 
 
 The hard ground echoes to our feet ! 
 
 The wind blows straight from the north star 
 And glancing from the darkness far 
 
 Fall diamond chips of frozen sleet ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Hills tower in their dark solitudes ! 
 A skirting pinewood on us frowns, 
 Shaking its stormy jasper crowns ; 
 
 But yet a tender shade secludes ! 
 
 3. 
 
 Where on the hilly terraces 
 
 The ruddy pine stems space the scene, 
 And glimmering lights that fall between 
 
 Allure the eye with fantasies. 
 
 4. 
 
 We scarce should wonder now to see. 
 
 Threading with light each woodland aisle, 
 A troop of seemly angels file, 
 
 With eyes down droopt in piety.
 
 150 HOMEWARD. 
 
 5. 
 
 But far away we view outlined, 
 Drawn by the fancy, artist deft, 
 A certain house at sunset left ; 
 
 Two hands that lift a Avindow blind ; 
 
 6. 
 
 Two eyes that peer behind the pane, 
 And scan the weather for our fate 
 With wonder — will my love bo late 1 
 
 As now we face the road again, 
 
 7. 
 
 That onward sweeps with ghostly line 
 Across brown moor and citron hill. 
 Through darkened thorpe, and hamlet still, 
 
 By farm, and byre, and hostel sign. 
 
 8. 
 
 And not to right or left we swerve ; 
 The heart's ideals thrill the blood. 
 And bear us onward like a flood ; 
 
 Until at length the well-known curve, 
 
 9. 
 
 And there beloAv, i' the dimness vast, 
 A red, red core — one dear hearth fire ! 
 Ah 'tis the goal of our desire — 
 
 wistful love, I come at last !
 
 A BRUISED EEED. 
 
 The J.Iaster of all music found 
 A bruised reed* upon the way : 
 
 He breathed its broken orbit round, 
 And woke a song of endless day. 
 
 The sweet sound went upon the wind, 
 And thrilled the shepherd on the moor ; 
 
 The ploughman paused his team behind. 
 The housewife at the cottage door ; 
 
 "O^ 
 
 The hunter listened on the hill. 
 The soldier marching to his doom. 
 
 The anxious sailor tossing still, 
 The miner delving in the gloom. 
 
 And yet more lovely rang the notes, 
 More pure and true, the high and low, 
 
 Until men sighed and said, " There floats 
 Some message to God's world below." 
 
 For, subtly changed, that organ rude. 
 
 By touch and breath that through it Avent, 
 
 Was natured to a finer mood, 
 
 And wrought a perfect instrument. 
 
 * According to an ancient interpretation, the " bruised reed " is 
 the shepherd's rustic flute, marred either in the making or the using.
 
 152 A BRUISED REED. 
 
 Whereon the strains he listed he 
 Might play alike to age and youth, 
 
 And govern all the minstrelsy 
 To some surrender of the truth. 
 
 And may I bring for thy great use 
 
 This faltering speech — my bruised reed 1 
 
 Wilt Thou jDossess, attune, educe, 
 Thou that art the Truth indeed ?
 
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