BERWICK STUDIES FOR POEMS BY CLAUDE BERWICK ha t* c v, t( c^w I ~ .^Cv-o^V A The Sweet and Saving Memory of Houtsa Babenport Who Died December, 1876, This volume is inscribed. Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep As ye have done it unto the least of these ye have done it unto Me 523 PRELUDE. The world is full of titterings; speech As breath is, to the soul; Each unto all, or all for each, - Their waves together roll. And one more matters little; then Behold! its breathings pass ; Another shade, in sight of men, Flits over churchyard grass. TO MY SISTER OF THE SACRED HEART. (TRINITA DEI MONTI, ROME, FEBRUARY", 1871.) Y Sister ! In your thoughts of me. Trust not these mortal sighs. PRESS on my heart your hand, and sec The longing in my eyes ! How many a picture Fancy drew In the proud days of yore, Vanished in blackness, as she knew Her suns could shine no more ! Into the dust her life she flung, Its bloom to ashes passed ; But from those ashes, Sister, sprung, A flower more sweet at last. STUDIES FOR POEMS. I hold, in my heart s treasury, That lovely heart of yours ! I wonder, in your thoughts of me, If the same spell endures ! I wonder, in the quietness That fills your lofty days, Through those calm hours, when they suppress Their outward prayer and praise, I wonder, nay, I wonder not, O Sister, fair and sweet, That memory seeks some sacred spot To worship at your feet ! Perhaps, through all we feel of worth Steals the dissolvent, Pain ; Perhaps, my sister, not on earth Are we to meet again; But O, God-cherished, loveliest one, Who hushed a stranger s sighs, STUDIES FOR POEMS. And gave to view that Mercy s sun Whose radiance filled her eyes, Perhaps, when stilled these notes below,- When passed this earthly shore, In thee my grateful heart shall know Christ s image, evermore. (9) L AFFINITA. (THE SAME TO THE SAME.) HE fixed her eyes upon the wall So aged, worn, and dim ; Th e faded frescoes shone o er all Like wings of seraphim ! The Altar gleamed, all radiantly Set from her grief apart; She had her thoughts in days gone by, Her hand upon her heart. "Ah, Lord, Redeemer!" still she cries, Her eyes too dim with tears To see, if they were near, the skies "How far Thy love appears! (10) STUDIES FOR POEMS. I cannot feel, I cannot know Aught save my misery. Lord ! as Thou pitiest all below, Thou must remember me ! Thou hast said, Whoever comes to Me Cast out, I will not ; there ! Whence then these floods ^f misery, These witherings of despair? Lord ! if but one least, outward sign Came to me from Thy grace, It would be, to this soul of mine, As I had seen Thy face ! " Her voice dropped down ; her heart grew faint ; As stiffening into stone, She, now released from prayer and plaint, Sat in the church alone ; Alone ! Before that holy shrine, Lost in one cloud of fear, * STUDIES FOR POEMS. How little might she guess, the sign She asked for, was so near ! She felt the flutterings of her strife Slowly, to quiet, tend; For even such passion brings, like life, Its own appointed end ; Lay round her stillness of the tomb Unbroke by sign or word; When from some far-off nook of gloom A crouching figure stirred. It was a figure, though forlorn, Yet with some touch of grace ; Shades, that not time, but strife, had worn, Marked all the down-cast face ; The dark robes rustled as she moved Swift from her lone retreat; Yet scarce even listener s ear had proved That tread of noiseless feet. (12) -* STUDIES FOR POEMS. On, over many a sculptured stone ; How calm they sleep below ! ^ n * where the painted hues were strown To flush the marble s glow, She passed. So resolute and true The purpose in her face, Its weary lines grew soft to view Returned some by-gone grace. Still in her reverie drooped the Nun ; That giant sorrow s spell All tha^ she knew beneath the sun, When on her shoulder fell A touch. She, starting, looked in eyes That flashed upon her there, Where some strange sweetness seemed to rise Mixed with a strange despair. Words came not. Round their souls how deep The silence seemed to spread! STUDIES FOR POEMS. That Nun s hand with its lips to sweep, Low bent the haughty head; Nay, more than this; the figure sank Down, crouching on the floor, While her bruised spirit healing drank, It had not known before. u Sister, " she said, " I have longed for you Such weary nights and days ! Through clouds unspeakable, I knew There must be notes of praise ! This world is but a glancing void, An arid waste of stone ; Its love and usefulness destroyed Only for me alone ! " The Sister s gentle eyes looked down On hers so full of strife ; She might have heard, without a frown, The story of her life. (14) STUDIES FOE POEMS. They clasped, they kissed in wordless prayer, Holding each other s hand ; And something lay between them there, None else could understand. TO CLARICE. A spirit, formed of li^ht and flame, Straight into a dark heart you came. :-:HEN first your face I chanced to meet, r " I thought, " How fair it is ! How sweet ! " But nothing then my eyes could see Of messages it held, for me. Still that face drew me, day by day, As some fair prospect, far away, Seen often, and more near, will send Its beauty with our lives to blend, And linger by us, to the end. Yet why say on? These eyes may trace Perhaps no more, O gentle face, STUDIES FOE POEMS. Those lines of beauty and of power That made thee dearer, hour by hour; Perhaps no more into my skies Shall break the light of those blue eyes, Yet may I not their deeps forget, Till all my earthly suns have set. (17) A DEATH-BEE). p HE sweet winds entered full and free,- And the last sighs were there ; Bent o er the couch the Priest, to see If now there might be prayer. Flowers blushed within that room, and threw Their fragrance on the night ; In face of Death a vision grew, Of splendor and delight. So deep the calm, I seemed to feel The gentle southern breeze Ashamed, so swiftly to reveal Its message from the seas ; Dark shadows, changing like a dream, Quivered on roof and wall ; (18) STUDIES FOR POEMS. And through the casement fell the gleam Of moonlight over all. u Daughter," -he said, (his voice was calm, And strangely deep his eyes ; ) " Thy hours are numbered, life s last psalm To-night shall o er thee rise. Thy years press round thee, a dark throng Of tales that have been told ; Naught boots it, back to look, along Those buried deeps of old. ******** His glory has defied our gloom, He is Himself our Quest, His pardon has become our doom, His Sacred Wounds our Rest." "Father," she spake, and, to my thought, On all she loved so well, (19) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Trees, flowers, these winds with odors fraught, A sudden stillness fell ; "Father! But three short years ago In bitterness malign Thy dreams no soul on earth could know So dead, so lost as mine ! Each bright and happy gift would turn To ashes at my gaze, How from such horror patience learn, How weigh such evil days? My life of life was stricken, its flower Dead in that Upas air; One weight lay on me every hour, The name of it, Despair! " Nay, Father, peace ! I have but spoken Thus of those vanished days, To show what chains Thy touch has broken, What sighings turned to praise ! ( 20 ) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Nor even thy touch alone, for still Without God s grace, I know Thou had st been powerless to fulfill Thy glorious work below ; But from that well-remembered eve When first the thought was mine, That God s great mercy still could grieve For me, with strength divine, I felt my doom depart ; beheld The poison-vapors flee, By this great truth to life compelled, God had remembered me! " Should I have lingered on this theme Father, so near the end? And yet, thou art no passing dream, My soul s most constant friend; Life was a riddle till I saw Thy hand point out the clue, (21) * STUDIES FOR POEMS. And knew these words to be Thy law, 4 Lord ! what for me to do ? Thy feet, set in the path to Heaven, Walk firmly on their way ; At what a distance mine have striven, No words can ever say, Methinks even eyes like thine might shun The weight of sins I bear ; And yet, for me, the deadliest one Is only, to despair." They are fled, the long last shades of night, And from these azure skies Behold, in airy, cloudless night, A crystal morn arise ! And Nature lifteth up her psalm For powers that life restore ; But one still figure, pale and calm, Shall know them, nevermore. (22) STUDIES FOR POEMS. The walls that Earth s despairs have made, Death s lightnings cleave apart; And the white crucifix is laid On the once burning heart. One met the Father, knowing what goal On earth had been her quest; Asked him, "How fares it with her soul?" He said, "She is at rest." (23) DYING SONG OF THE ITALIAN SOLDIER AFTER THE BATTLE OF SOLFERINO, TO HIS ENGLISH FRIEND AND BROTHER-IN-ARMS. LIEND, friend ! I lean upon thee now, The bitterest pang is past ; And I must die, with martial brow, *, . A soldier to the last. Thy hand still warm iif mine ; thy tone Still throbbing in my ears ; Nay, never shed, my friend, my own, These bitter, useless tears ! What though in all the fire of youth, I sought my land to save ; (24) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Have I not given her back, in truth, The very life she gave ? Thou mourn st that thus my course should end, That on this field I lie ; Yet say, O loved and constant friend, How could I worthier die? Two pictures rise before me now; Pictures distinct and clear; Thou, looking with me, canst avow, Which brightest shall appear. One, -of that life we long to keep, That chain we love to bear ; The length of days that onward sweep, To land us in despair ! Nay, start not, look. Myself I see Bowed down, and old, and gray, All manhood s powers and graces free, Forever passed away. (25) STUDIES FOR POEMS. My friends departed ; strange and dumb Thy memory in the past ; Or, bitterer still, our love become But hate and scorn at last ! No, no, thank Heaven, this cannot be ! For me that doom is o er; I, on Life s treacherous, raging sea, Shall struggle now no more. But watch the other scene ! Behold, Serene, and still, and bright, I see the heavenly scroll unrolled, The morning still the night! I see my name, if soon forgot, Untouched by shame or woe ; My maiden shield without a blot, My death before the foe ! I see beside me, boon more dear Than aught my dreams could crave, (*] STUDIES FOR POEMS. Thy love, a love to reign, to cheer, To stir beyond the grave ! The darkness round me seems t< Or are my lashes wet? One word, the last! Friend, first The end draws swifter nigh; But thus, upon thy faithful breast, It is not hard to die! THE NUN. T was a Nun, who in her cell Sat quiet, and alone ; But for the beads she had to tell, Her lips were carven stone ; What could it be, the unuttered spell That o er her past was thrown? Dark, as she sat, above her grew The shadows on the wall ; There was the "mattrass-grave," and there Her upward glances fall Upon her Maker s tortured form, The ransom given for all. STUDIES FOR POEMS. How many years since first this life Was hers, that spell serene Cast o er her thoughts, her looks, her words That dead, regardless mien ? Could it be ever that she knew A woman s passions keen? There is scarce a shadow on her brow ; The shade that on her lies, Comes from a soul that once would know All life with sweet surprise ; Now, withered, soiled, could that be fair v Yea, even to angel eyes ! God ! Thou hast made the dumb to speak, The unhoping blind to see ; From one chop of Earth s suffering cup, Released Thou would st not be ; This life is full of mysteries That none shall know but Thee. (29) : : * STUDIES FOE POEMS. This woman, when I think upon Any life through the years That might have been, that might be hers. With springing hopes and fears, And now, this open sepulchre, Where even there fall not tears ! My God, my God ! That name is Thine ; Thou, makest not afraid ; Through bitterest valleys when we go There might be darker shade ; Thou hatest, saith Thy mystic Word, Nothing that Thou hast made. My thoughts go back upon the Nun ; I feel that she must know God s love for her as sweet, as true, As for aught else below ; She waits for the other life to see Why this was ever so. (30) TERESA OF A VILA BEFORE HER CRUCIFIX. the Saint s face so softly lies The blessedness of prayer, So firmly seek the Saint s sweet eyes, Her sacred symbol there, We deem no powers of mortal worth Might tempt her thoughts to roam, And the pure soul, even while on earth, Half lifted to its home. Yet think not this. She, gentle, true, Noble, beloved and brave, Herself life s sharpest conflicts knew, Herself could vainly crave ; For twenty years she might not pray, Her thoughts o erwent control ; STUDIES FOR POEMS. But God, Who cast it, took away This shadow from her soul. And then, when strife was o er, and she A conqueror in the light, How yearned her generous heart to free Others from deeper night ! In life she knew no single hour This wish did not command ; Her influence spread, a holy power, Afar throughout the land. ******** They asked her once, of those, whose lot Was never Heaven to know, What was their worst chastisement, what Their one distinctive woe? They waited then, her words to greet ; Lifting deep eyes above, She answered only, calm and sweet, "Alas! They do not love." (32) AN ORIENTAL SALUTATION. " PEACE BE WITH YOU." EACE be with you! Peace at night, In the obscure and solemn light ; Peace at morn, when, softly gay, Those fair eyes open to the day ; Peace, while earth s light is round thee ; peace Beyond thy dreams when earth shall cease ; Peace forever! But for me, What peace is there, save with thee ? (33) -til AMINE. ERE dwells she ? " " Seest thou in the vale Yon gracious mansion rise, Where trees wave slowest to the gale, And sweetest sunshine lies? " The vines arch o er the balcony ; The roses bloom beyond ; The joyous birds, on every tree, To Nature s joy respond." " What is her destiny ? How speeds For her that shadow, Life ? How are fulfilled the immortal needs ? And how is met the strife?" (34) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Her husband bears, known far and near, A true and honored name ; A seaman once ; he would not fear A thing on earth but shame. " Wealth is his now ; his toils are done ; Yet, more than all beside, The wife his constancy hath won, His treasure and his pride ! " The very apple of his eye ; Stranger ! tis even so ; How a strong man can love, and why, Perhaps you may not know. " There plays, beside the lady s knee, A boy of fairy grace ; In whom, already, you may see The fairy mother s face ! " (35) STUDIES FOR POEMS. u Is she so fair, then ? " "I have seen stranger ! many lands ; Stood on Columbia s prairies green, Arabia s desert-sands ; " And fair ones I have known, who taught My heart to feel their power ; Yet never met I, to my thought, One like this English flower ! fct When I look on her face, meseems 1 stand in moonlight pale Stirless ; nor can explain the dreams That o er my thoughts prevail ! kt So gracious, too ! There s not a boor Her look might chance to meet, But for her sake would toil endure, Would worship at her feet ! " (36) * STUDIES FOB POEMS. " You paint," I said, " a mortal lot From mortal terrors free ; Without a bitterness or blot ; Almost too bright to be ! " So sweet, so loved, so beautiful ! All brightness round her cast ; Her cup of bliss must be so full, It should run o er at last ! " " Stranger ! I gave thee naught but truth ; And yet, if thou should st spy In all her beauty and her youth, The enchantress pass thee by ; " To God, thy Father, bend the knee, And of His mercy crave For her, as happiest doom, to be This hour within her grave ! " (37) WE ARE THREE. E are three, in love and pride; Our hearts walk daily side by side., We are three, in hope and truth; < r Linked by the golden dreams of youth. We are three, yet of us, one Lies far beneath the orient sun, Where the pale palm-trees bend in pride, To kiss the earth where warriors died. We are three, yet, beneath the wave, My love lies in a lonely grave, The waters flow upon his breast ; He sleeps in everlasting rest. (38) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Those two are dead, I yet remain Within this world of toil and pain, Yet wheresoe er my footsteps flee, I bear this token, We are three. We are three, our love is more, Our hearts are stronger than of yore. Though their loved forms I cannot see, We are together, we are three. I wait, my life is dim and still ; My worn-out heart no more can thrill ; I wait for Death, my soul to free, Yet even here we still are three. O strange, sweet power ! what dreams can reign Like these so far from mortal pain ? What hope, what glory can I see, Fair as the sign, that we are three ? (39) THE VOYAGE OF THE PETREL. (To CLARICE.) I will permit the reader to picture me for the next eight years, as a bark slumbering through halcyon weather, in a harbor still as glass, the steersman stretched on the little deck, his face up to Heaven, his eyes closed; buried, if you will, in a long prayer However, it cannot be concealed that in that case I must somehow have fallen overboard, or that there must have been wreck at last. I too well remember a time, a long time of cold, of danger, of contention I even know there was a storm, and that not of one hour or one day. For many days and "nights, neither sun nor stars appeared ; we cast with our own hands the tackling out of the ship ; a heavy tempest lay on us ; all hope that we should be saved was taken away. In fine, the ship was lost, the crew perished. VILLETTE, Chap 4. AIR friend, whose softest eyes, intent, Such witchery o er me cast, Thou ask st me then, how I have spent Those days of absence, past? (40) * * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Those eyes, I shall not let them keep My actual presence nigh; Nor, with their radiant rarigings, sweep The cold reality; Yet, such their mercy and their power, Half would I let them know This history, in some deepest hour Of love for all below. Take up the riddle of my life ; Where thy resemblance shone With all sweet hopes and meanings rife See vacancy alone. Bound to some port I needs must be; It matters little where ; Behold me, then, on a calm sea, Whose waters* are despair. (41) * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Yet nought affects it this, that I, Serene, perhaps, and bland, Should watch my vessel quietly Leave out of sight the land; Like Egypt s love, I may recline On couches soft and deep, And breathe the happiest airs divine, In simulated sleep ; Or list the deep-voiced sailors song, While rough but faithful hands Prepare my ship for voyage long, Among the unknown lands. Not even a cloudlet floats, to speck The blue and dreamy air; The steersman lies upon the deck, Buried, perhaps, in prayer. # (42) STUDIES FOE POEMS. This Lethean quiet ! must it cease ? Balm for the heart opprest ? Ah! is it, then, a conquered peace, Or but deceitful rest? Fast drew that season to its close ; As, by some careless word, Dropped suddenly from its repose, We know the heart is stirred; So, when I heard a dreary sound Low muttering far away, I knew the tempest was unbound, Ready to meet its prey. I knew, I shuddered. With earth s woe Must earth s frail hearts despond; What will be, will be ; this we know ; Why seek to pierce beyond? (43) STUDIES FOR POEMS. I waited, reckless half, in thought, If that sea were my grave ; Waited, while rising, round me wrought The powers of wind and wave. Strange deeps in Life, in Nature, form Before the expectant eye ; Not for one hour, nor day, that storm Might rave beneath that sky. Nothing foreboded lip to lip; Even closer human bands; There were firm hearts within that ship And strong and faithful hands. Yet, to my thought, it seemed to be In that drear dark unknown When th others drew so close, for me Marked out to stand alone. (44) : * STUDIES FOR POEMS. I cried unto the winds and waves ; Methought, their sole reply Was but to rear their green sea-caves Against the stormy sky. All elements in earth or heaven, Seemed in that hour to meet ; I saw, even from that ruptured levin, Fall on us radiance sweet. It was a mystery all, I knew ; But, mystery not in vain; These words came ever to my view, " Joy in the heart of pain." Ah me, such thoughts how vain, how weak, Before that ruthless sky, Whose myriad voices seemed to speak, " You are drifting on to die I " (45) ,, STUDIES FOB POEMS. Even that last crash, when all was o er, The sunken rocks our goal, Seemed but a whispering sound, before The anguish of my soul. I speak and live. How is it, then, I have not looked- my last On earth and sky, and fields and men, With that experience past? The young, the loved, the happy, caught To worlds we dare not sound; How is it such as I was brought Out of the deeps profound? I, at the least, O Lord, can say To Thee, who gav st me breath, Shadow or sunshine, I could pray Never for life, but death. (46) STUDIES FOR POEMS. This story of my voyage is true ; To all who prosper, known. In fine, the ship was lost, the crew Perished, save I alone. 47) LINES SUGGESTED BY THE TWO STONE FIGURES AT THE NORTH ENTRANCE or ROUEN CATHEDRAL. (PORTAIL DBS LlRRAIRES,) SEPTEMBER 24TH, 1871. OR ages they have dwelt in stone, Two mystic figures fair; For ages, passers-by have known A fragrance, as of prayer. How long some tender chisel wrought To leave those forms of peace ! Even yet, the sculptor s pious thought Its working shall not cease. Girt round by all the city s din, The brave Cathedral stands; A spark of fire, those deeps within Dropt down from Heavenly hands; (48) * STUDIES FOE POEMS. It flings the splendor of a dream Upon the unworthy street; And on its strength all forms supreme All holiest symbols meet. Yet men, in every beauty, see The one, last touch divine ; And for each heart there seems to be Some special-lighted shrine. Thus, in no other outward nook So was my spirit bowed, - As where these figures seemed to look Upon the passing crowd. They were so sweet! as they had come Borne soft through midnight air To bring some soul, oppressed and dumb, The vision of a prayer; Which, in that sudden light set free, He, who such waiting bore, D (49) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Had, after, fixed in stone, to be An offering evermore. They are so stern! because they know No faintest link with sin; Soft figures, fleeing all below The Heavenly grace to win ; And, to my thought, the haloes true That ever round them came, Turned each heart-outward, to our view, How different, yet the same ! Clad in monk s robe and cowl is one ; Down-bent the waiting eyes ; His hands are crossed; his eyes upon The earth, not in the skies. Yet, patient traveler in this clime, Loving and loved in strife, How far beyond these shades of time Is lived his truest life ! (50) STUDIES FOR POEMS. His is a spirit, sad, yet true; Feeling its weight of sin ; Ordained, that very anguish through, Pardon and peace to win, But yet, the Shadow. For the light In radiant angel guise, His comrade stands, with eyes of might, Uplifted to the skies I Uplifted! Not a touch of fear Dwells on that star-like brow; If sorrow dimmed those features here, The stains are vanished now. How merciful the thought, to abide Through years of sinful breath, In homes that might be glorified Thus by the hand of death! Two products are they, of one root, These loving figures fair; (so STUDIES FOR POEMS. Type of the seed and of the fruit, Earthly and Heavenly prayer. One without other might not be ; Though every cloud should burst To shew us light s intensity, We need the shadow first. Many and marvellous years have flown Since hands, so skilled and blest, To sh.ape these angel thoughts in stone, Have crossed themselves in rest ; The sculptor s soul might seek in vain His world of hopes and fears; But yet, his message shall remain, And speak through all the years. (52) MALA PROHIBITA, MALA IN SE. Flesh lies around us, everywhere; God help us in our heart s despair. WALKED within a smiling land; The mountains stood on either hand, Strife with their peace to overwhelm ; Fair guardians of a fairer realm. They drew their outlines, soft and high, Against the pureness of the sky; Their height, their distance, grew to me . Ideals of mystic liberty. Valleys and streamlets at their feet Made the fair picture all complete, And my soul quieted its sighs To gaze upon their destinies. (53) STUDIES FOR POEMS. I walked with pleasant comrades there ; The mountains towered divinely fair, The air was balm ; there came to me A sense of utter misery. Their talk, what was it? Heart, o erthrow Fair visions of the long ago, Accept the emptiness of days That know not yearning, power, or praise, Even then thou wilt, not glad, behold The shutting of the gates of gold, The poisoning of the radiant thought That mean all meanings Life has wrought, The words of course, that like rough seas, Bring shadows o er God s silences ! But He remembered! I could see, When other noontides rose for me. I walked, then, with a little child ; His face, his spirit, undefiled; (54) STUDIES FOR POEMS. His fancies ranging, wide and true, As those far hills beyond his view, His soft, small brain in quietness Gathering all powers that yet should bless. He dwelt not with the things of time, But of the Eternities sublime, And Life s Medusa-horrors fell Before that gentle spectacle. "A little child shall lead them!" True; O my sad heart, was this for you? (55) FATE AND FREE-WILL. My heart so beat, I flew so fast, This cannot be Too late ! " atlast. HEY said that she was dying ; though How true the tale I could not know. Such life as dwelt in her, by right, Could death put, instant, out of sight ? How many years we spent apart ! How old this aching at my heart ! That morn we met ! I know it well ; How fair the early sunlight fell On lawn and terrace, lifted brave High o er the sleeping azure wave ! Behind, the stately mansion rose ; Its secrets locked in grim repose. (56) STUDIES FOE POEMS. How bloomed, those peaceful morning hours, In sheltered balcony the flowers ! How, like all dazzling gems in one, Glittered that sea beneath the sun ! How airs, that might have vexed the day, In softest distance died away ! How hints would come, in pausing note, Of sea-girt mariners afloat ! How zephyrs, from some far-off shore Would round them nameless fragrance pour! How sent the bird, unfaltering, there His song into the upper air! How earth and sky, and wave and beam Made all the world one fairy dream, With hope, youth, joy, enchantment rife; Might I not feel in love with life? Ah, yes ! I joyed in Nature s lore ; But knew, there wanted something more. (57) STUDIES FOR POEMS. That came. A figure passed me by, As, leaning from the balcony, Seaward I looked. A figure slight, With unheard step, and eyes of might. Though fixed and far my gaze, was bent, I knew that something came and went. Retracing swift her noiseless ways, I turned ; the sunlight drooped to haze, And our eyes met, in a long gaze. A long, long gaze ! The first is past ; There must be thousands ere the last ! Describe her ! Words, thus coldly dealt, To paint what is not seen, but felt! Or, could a painter fix the dyes That hover betwixt earth and skies? She was my focus; in one blaze Drew all my scattered spirit-rays. (58) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Life dwelt within her ; life so keen And quick, nought else could intervene. She with you, breathing earthly breath, - There was no room for thoughts of death ! One moment I describe, retrace ; Upon the darkness paint her face ! A brow broad, generous, gentle, eyes More softly blue than summer skies, Which held so much within those deeps Where, in its home, the spirit sleeps, That this strange thought at times I knew, Those eyes, w^ere they a dream, or true ? Yet, fancying thus, I need but turn Where, in their love, could lightings burn, Or, where each curve and line was grace, Look .on that sparkling, fairy face, Or list those tones so rich, so sweet, ( 59) STUDIES FOR POEMS. That made Life s music all complete, To crush self-torments in their birth, To know her woman of the earth ! Those eyes, they must be true, for me, So much I needed them, and thee ! She of my life was star, was queen ; But ah, what shadows rushed between ! There were long years, I breathed, I felt ;- At times this darkness seemed to melt, And through its dying mists of strife, Show me a glory as of Life. But even as I beheld, and knew All else was false, this only true, The light would fall, the peace be o er, Life s poison hold my life once more. Past all. Only by God s sweet grace Now can I meet thee, face to face. (60) THE ROOTS OF LIFE. HY fair, new chamber, love, I see, So bright, I had not known; But, in it, thou hast left for me This crucifix alone. And by that sign I recognize That sacred symbol still, Thou art mine own beneath the skies, In happiness or ill. At times the shadow of thy doom Falls o er a smiling land; None reach thee in thy living tomb, - For none can understand. And then a weight, men call despair, Tightens and stops thy breath; (6:) STUDIES OF POEMS. And then, God s crystal azure there Fades to a mask of death. And then, love, I have seen thee lie With dust upon thy head, . A ghost beneath the peaceful sky, And than the dead more dead. But is it that thy soul could be Spurned thus from Love divine? Beyond this darkness could I see No glorious future shine? Ah, Love ! the death-in-life we meet, To death itself might blind. Ah, Love ! can any words be sweet When Love is not behind? Those days are passed for thee, and now Thou walkest in the light; (62) STUDIES FOR POEMS. God left upon thy glorious brow No scars to tell of fight. Only, thou hast, at times, a gaze, His chosen ones must wear, Telling, for those who look, of days Saved in the deeps of prayer. But here thou art, and in thy hand My own, the strife is o er; And the sweet crucifix must stand Between us, evermore. And words like these seem hovering near, By wrath and tempest nursed ; Love thou thy God, and dare not fear, Because He loved thee first." (6 3 ) THE PRISONER OF THE HUNGER TOWER. AMONG the many interesting monuments of its past his tory to be seen in the old Bohemian city of Prague, none is more fascinating to the traveller than a rude, circular stone structure, dating, apparently, from the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries. It is commonly called the " Hunger Tower," and, as its too suggestive name im plies, those who had specially offended against the laws of the State, civil or religious, were there put to death by starvation. .It contains two upper stories, and a dungeon or oubliette, into which those condemned to suffer the worst penalty of the law, were lowered. The two upper stories contain many little cells, some with rough, unglazed windows barred with iron, and others with a simple niche, or blind window, at the end. In one of these cells, about seven feet by four, many of the stones from this niche are displaced, and lie in con fusion with the hardened mortar, showing plainly that some unfortunate captive had made desperate efforts to work through the wall in this direction, and so reach the outer world* from which he must have felt himself so cruelly debarred. The implements he used can only (6 4 ) STUDIES FOR POEMS. be conjectured. The old cicerone, on being asked what was done with him for thus attempting to escape, shrugged her shoulders and answered indifferently, u Oh, taken out and shot next day." stood within his narrow cell, So narrow, loathsome, dim, Was there a God? and could these cries, His creature s, reach to Him? He looked into his heart; twas nought But bitter to the brim. " I know," he thought, " this morn of June, Outside, the lindens play; The love-birds sing their madrigals, Soaring from earth away ; The glorious sun looks down from heaven Serene, upon the day." " My God ! " he said ; not that he thought There could be such a one, E (65. STUDIES FOE POEMS. But that such words break from the lips, When man is most undone, Even by such instinct as the flowers Turn with to seek the sun. He said no more. Goes ever aught So deep as earth s despair, Save those two living, dying words, The briefest, longest prayer ? My God ! if we believe,. He is, Enough ; our life is there. As in some torpid trance of shame, Slow went the creeping days; Sometimes the sunlight burnt to flame, Sometimes it sank to haze ; It was the same to him ; his eyes On stone and darkness gaze. One night,; it was a night when storm And wind were on the blast, (66) STUDIES FOR POEMS. His hands, cold lying on the stone, O er which so oft they passed, Shrunk, as they clutched a nail ; he felt A flash of joy at last ! He grasped it firm. " In days of old, Now dead as leaves that fall, Earth s pomps and gauds were mine ; those powers Whose worth we dare not call ; And now, this rusty nail shall bear . The palm before them all ! " He groped to the blind niche, that turned Towards the outer air; His hands were strung with steel ; he lost A moment, his despair ; And, in that moment, o er him came A thought, that was a prayer. He worked, he toiled. The drops would st^nd Like beads upon his brow ; STUDIES FOR POEMS. The tissues of that hapless frame Such unused toil would bow ; What mattered it? his breath came free, He had an interest now ! Once, tired, he leaned against the wall; It was a summer night ; (Nought guessing how he might have come From darkness near to light ;) The measured sound of church bells came Piercing that stony might ! Was it he who heard? The hands fell free, The heart forgot its fears; He, in that moment, tenderly Recalled his vanished years ; And, as he listened, could it be? This, that he felt, was tears. I have walked," he said, u in such a blur Of horror and of pain, (68) STUDIES FOR POEMS. I wonder not the bitterness Has gone into my brain ; I deemed not God could so be God, To give such hour again ! " He listened to that music still, With thoughts so sweet and strange ! Upon the breathless dungeon air, There passed a sudden change; Whence came these sounds? and whence these eyes That o er him seemed to range? They noted all ; the rusty nail Fallen down upon the floor ; The misplaced stones, that told the tale Of hope revived once more ; The prisoner s face, though wan and pale, Lit by the dreams of yore ! Each noted, with triumphal brow; For him the die was cast; * STUDIES FOR POEMS. This life of all mysterious woe ; Foreknew its conflicts passed. His days were justly forfeit now To the outraged laws at last I th Prisoner," the eldest said, " you were pent Here in this narrow room; Men well had deemed you penitent, Hid in such dungeon gloom ; Now merc}^ pleads in vain ; you are sent To-morrow to your doom ! " The door clanged close The mournful eyes, Dazed by that cruel light, Fell back upon their destinies, The shadow and -the night ; And yet, and yet, not quite the same ; They had known at last their might ! A shiver rustled through his frame ; A shiver, not of fear ; (7) STUDIES FOR POEMS. His eyes were fixed, yet one might see Their vision soft and clear; And yet, he crouched upon the ground,- A though some foe were near. Was it so to end, the agony Of that most bitter breath, The dreams, the aspirings, that would see How slow Hope perisheth, Then the after quiet, that must be At last, the spirit s death? Earth s battles are forever so Through all conflicting powers ; Soil must be tortured ere it show The summer fruits and flowers ; No eye but God s could ever know Of his last earthly hours. The morn is here ! In sullen file The guards before the gate R STUDIES FOR POEMS. Are gathered ; then, a little while Below the lindens wait ; And then, they enter, and they stand To bear him to his fate. * He is led forth ! How does he look, O men, of women born? Fiends might their lesson take from you, Of cruelty and scorn, Vet, he has little left to bear Upon this summer morn. Still in the court-yard stands a tree, Lopped, dreary and aghast; Stands where that prisoner, gagged and bound. Before the axe was cast, Where, in God s gentle sunshine, he From night to morning passed ! This happ d, how many years agone? That know not I, nor care ; (72) STUDIES FOR POEMS. His dungeon stands, to witness still ; The stones all broken there ; Is it so strange, is it so new, That life should be despair? In the other world at last, O God ! When light shall vanquish gloom, Can we not, in some moment, know The mystery of his doom, And how far Thou permitt st the shades Of death beyond the tomb ? (73) THE MYSTICAL LAND. TOW do I go, my Heart, when I go Into the Mystical Land?" Thou sittest by a river slow, That flows into the sand, Thou watchest, far above, the skies In gold and crystal gleam, - Earth s fiercest roar about thee dies, Thou walkest in a dream. For not one moment canst thou know The bitterness, the strife, The whirl of waters that below Make up what we call Life; If faintest thought, if slightliest sound Of earth thy spirit stain, Then leav st thou, for that dreary round, The Mystic Land again ! " (74) STUDIES FOR POEMS. " What do I do, my Heart, when I go Into the Mystical Land?" " This is thy doing there, to know That thou dost understand That life is love, and love is life, And the Love of Love is there, There is an end to thoughts of strife, To the poison of despair ; The night of sorrow ends ; for this Thou knewest could not last ; Thou fmd st, in very truth, thy bliss Is more for what is past. Such draughts of peace thou drinkest there, That like a river flow, Thou art thankful for the old despair ; What is there more to know? " 44 Can it ever be, this side the grave, My Heart, the Mystic land?" (75) STUDIES FOR POEMS. So tenderly she answered me, And I felt her understand ; "Is, then, this earth one pleasure-ground, All dazzling to the sight, Where only happiness is found, Morning, and noon, and night? Are there no thoughts of anguish drear, No lead within the breast, No passion, that must die of fear, Before its mvn unrest? Thou knewest that question came in vain," Thus said my Heart to me ; " We are sent into this world, to gain The next through agony. " ifc Ah me, what shudderings then, my Heart, To reach the Mystic Land ! I could almost yield my little part, I cannot understand ! " (76 ) If) STUDIES FOR POEMS. It is not meant that eyes should see Clear in this bitter place ; When it is vanished, they may be Serene and face to face. If He, the Captain of our war, Conquered through suffering all, How should st thou dread to look afar, Hearing His trumpet-call? Be patient through the agony Thou canst not understand ; In thy Lord s smile, shall smile for thee At last, the Mystic Land!" (77) * IN MILAN CATHEDRAL. (APKIL, 1871.) J WANDERER, pausing at the door, - Doubting of things divine, The wearier thou of life, the more All this domain is thine. For thee, upon that altar high, The symbol-splendours blaze; Upwards, with clouds of incense, % Yearnings that fill thy days; For thee maintains each column proud The worship of the years; For thee the lofty arch is bowed, As even with mortal fears; For thee, O stricken, cowering heir Of bliss and love untold, Visions thy weakness scarce can bear, Immortal deeps unfold ! (78) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Enter. The depths of music fill These echoing spaces fair; Thy heart can only beat to thrill ;- Thy silence turns to prayer. The air of death that girds around Thy spirit and thy life, Sinks from thee on this blessed ground, With holy victories rife ; Thy heart, beyond its longings weak, Has, for the moment, flown ; Earth s bitter voices cannot speak Where Heaven s is heard alone. Thou think st that God has left thee ; know st No world but thy despair ; If, to its very deeps thou throw st Thy look, then, He is there ! * * The Rev. F. W. Faber s idea was, that in the very depths of mortal agony, if we looked for God around or outside of us, we could not find Him; that in turning back upon our own hearts, we found Him there. (79) STUDIES FOR POEMS. O worlds that from the soul can sweep The sickening of its pain! O worlds that hold such cordials deep For heart and blood and brain I Worlds that in giving death to pride, Uplift us to the sky; Worlds that beneath this roof abide, Within these cloisters lie, Worlds whose spells waft us to His throne, The Lord of Heavenly powers, Who for our sakes made death His own, - That so might life be ours; Most merciful! where er they roam, These souls which Thou hast made, - Here must they breathe the air of home, Here Earth s proud waves be stayed. (So) THE GRAVE OF FENICE. frHE rests, then ! Solemn be that rest,- After life s fever, sleep ! That heart, with passionate hopes oppressed, With longings strange and deep, Has found its quiet. O er her, here, How soft the grasses wave ! O stranger ! Bring thy hope, thy fear, - Not unto this fair grave ! She who rests here, I cannot see One touch of nature fled! Ever, in lingering thought, to me, She lives, she is not dead ! It is as though, by some strange chance, Wandering, with spirit sore, F (81) STUDIES FOR POEMS. I might behold that upward glance, Fenice ! mine once more ! Sixteen. Those years when some have told,- They are but children still; Life s deeps, as yet, may not unfold, The slumbering heart to thrill; But she, when dropt God s sudden call Into her youthful sky, It was as she had known the All And now, could only die ! The All! But she had known a youth, Rich with imperial hours ; Steeped in a natural girlish truth, Balmy with breath of flowers; Life said, in accents that seemed true, " My child ! I give thee days To wind, neath skies of deepest blue, Only in radiant ways." (82) STUDIES FOR POEMS. She listened, she believed; her ear Could but such promise greet; Nor might a thought intrude, of fear, Beside its music sweet; She walked, as reading a fair tale, Down some enchanted land: Sudden the brilliance seemed to fail, The book fell from her hand ! And she beheld, where Fancy drew Arcades of glorious bloom, That, through a mist, her pathway grew A pathway to the tomb ! That gentle spirit, warmed and cheered By all it met below, Was doomed. What then she felt, or feared, I do not seek to know. But this I know, that here, serene, Safe from the world s cold breath, STUDIES FOR POEMS. My fair Fenice lies, a queen, Sleeping the sleep of death ! The pale hands crossed ; I know, even yet, In thought, their touch benign; And closed the eyes, which never met With aught but sweetness, mine ! We were together once, in truth ; Our souls together; still Those so departed days of youth Come back, one heart to thrill; , But now, a wanderer I must be, Bound on some wayward quest, While, set so far apart from me, She lies in holy rest. ELMIRE S PORTRAIT. eyes were deep, her face serene; The presence of a crowned queen Was hers ; with every word she spake A beauty over life would break. No meaner thoughts could live, that you Once brought before that earnest view; Despair was not, beneath the skies, When you had looked into her eyes. The petty things, the common ways, That fill so much of all our days, Were not the same, methinks, to her; . The pulses of her life would stir With larger meanings, loftier powers; Her soul stood nearer home than ours. The strength one mortal life may hold, Can it by word or pen, be told ? CHURCH BELLS IN VENICE. (SANTA ZACARIA.) ] HEY steal me back to other days, They smooth to youth my brow ; As through Venetian air I gaze, They flood the landscape now. They lift the struggling spirit high Out of its pains and woe, Arid set it near some cloudless sky, As in the long ago ; They praise, entreat, complain, adore, They soothe and they awake, Sound-waves that strike some holier shore, And the soul s silence break, ( 86) I* * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Earth s self-reproach and penitence Seems uttered in their tone; Clouds gather round their heights intense, To mortal eyes unknown. Yet still those echoes, rising true, Earth s deadlier vapors part, And in the space they leave, we view All, that should fill the heart. (8 7 ) TO A FRIEND. HEN first I met your glance, my friend, Some instinct seemed to speak, And murmur, " Here life s quest may end; Behold the heart you seek ! " Long, long the watch, the waiting ; long The hope, the fell despair ; A Presence rises from the throng, The answer to thy prayer! "Now drop the burden of thy fears, Thy sorrows put away; The light that in thy East appears Shines to the perfect day. (88) STUDIES FOR POEMS. For thee no more the bitter gloom, The threatenings of the past ; Thy spirit, ransomed from its tomb, Scapes to its life at last ! " What was thy charm? Not till this hour Could earthly spell command, For me the witchery and the power Held in thy careless hand ! Was it, that in some vanished year, Lost, lost in mists of yore, Thy soul was part of mine, and here Reclaimed its own once more? I know not. Friend, thou may st not see (Thou should st not, it is best,) All thy affection is to me, My refuge and my rest ! (89; STUDIES FOR POEMS. The clouds may lower around, and dart The lightnings on the gale ; But, still thine image in my heart, On ! on ! I will not quail ! (9) A FIRST VIEW OF QUEBEC. RIGHT in the morning fair, Bright through the summer air, Gilded with sunshine rare, Quebec was seen. Floated and curled in light The crested wavelets bright, Around her guardian might The Fortress-Queen ! I knew her far away, Before we reached the bay, Mine eyes could mark the sway Of rampart-towers; Before her walls I knew, Some instinct told me true How near I was to view Those ancient powers ! (90 If STUDIES FOR POEMS. Near nearer yet we came, Rose dark her heights of fame Against that field of flame, The morning sky ; Frowned down embrasures deep, Gleamed cannon on the steep, Flew stern above her keep One flag on high ! Nor for the eye alone These radiant pictures shone; The lore of cycles flown Seemed garnered .here ; The Present and the Past Together smiled at last Spells round these walls were cast That yet are near ! # * * * Dark years have rushed between Me and that radiant scene, * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Old memories quick and keen, Are quenched in night; Yet, with hope s wakening thrill, Before my vision still That city on the hill Arises bright ! Let but a stranger s praise And long remembrance, raise Some sign upon the ways, At least, tis true ; And stand thou firm in power, Braced for the darkest hour May none around thee lower! Quebec, adieu ! (93) TWO SPRINGS. AST Spring, when early on us fell A blissful, sunlit day When Winter s ear might trace the knell Foretelling his decay, I? all my heart borne down with woe, Swift to thy dwelling sped, If haply from thy lips might flow Some comfort for my dread. I found thee in thy chamber fair Girt round with leaves and flowers ; I might have thought my footsteps there Strayed in a fairy s bowers. 94 ; 4 STUDIES FOR POEMS. I heard thy gentle lips renew The hopes of earlier years; How swift those happy moments flew, That woke me from my fears ! And yet, THY life was dark no more Its vanished suns could shine ; How, my heart shamed itself before The sweet content of thine ! I went and with thy parting smile Some fancy whispered free, Ah, how our friendship shall beguile The shades of Springs to be ! " Once more the Spring looks down in light On forest, mount and plain ; Borne on victorious sunbeams bright Her love is ours again. (95) * * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Arid yet, as to thy chamber sweet My thoughts were wont to stray, Now, if that memory loved they meet, They shrink, and turn away. And, where my steps would turn to thee. And linger at thy door, They while I own mortality, Shall linger nevermore! I pictured for thee Spring-times true Of earthly light and love ; Even while I hoped, thy spirit knew Eternal Spring above ! (96) IN AUTUMN. Y walks lie now among the leaves, Crimson, and gold, and brown; For Nature her sweet broidery weaves O er all the dreary town. Slow wandering, in some nook I stand, And linger while the grace Now spreading broadcast o er the land, Shines " in a shady place ! " The mountain from these slopes is seen A rainbowed, dazzling height, As if the summer s sombre green Had lost itself in light. And still no glare upon the sky, But softest, dreamiest rays G (97) * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Look down through mists to sanctify These mellow Autumn days ! Yet never did fair scene but bring Some thoughts that were not fair; The shadow of a phantom wing Forever in the air ! Why when these Autumn leaflets fall, So coldly and so sere, Should they those vanished hours recall, Made by thy presence dear? Ah ! friend ! Those memories bring to me Not bliss so much as pain ; The burden of my thought must be, When shall we meet again? (98) A CHRISTMAS SONG. GAIN ! the skies are chilling now ; The snow is on the ground ; Winter, with sullen, old-time brow, Looks haughtily around. But faces gay, and hearts as light As sunbeams, tell at last We dare to hope for something bright Before the year is past ! Upon these days the sunlight gleams More peaceful and more fair; Can it be fancy? but there seems A fragrance in the air ; That subtle brightness quivers through Skies gray with winter s cold; (99) * : * STUDIES FOR POEMS. That fragrance, tis the same we knew On many a morn of old ! Conflicts may o er our souls have passed, So deadly and so deep, That, while we live, the shadows cast Will haunt us as we sleep ; A light may from our hearts have gone That nothing can restore ; But, all the same, life passes on With joy to thousands more ! Now well-remembered pictures crowd Where er we turn our eyes : Upon bleak fields the snowy shroud, Direct from Heaven, lies ; And there is peace on all around, As in the ancient days ; And, ever rising from the ground, The wealth of prayer and praise ! (100) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Oh ! might we but, in sweet content, Accept the mighty will ! Thanks, Lord, for all Thy mercies sent To erring mortals still; So constant, all our lives we knew Their brightness round us cast; So many, undeserved and true, We dare not count at last ! (101) THE CHOICE. " It is better to be sitting than standing, better lyin< down than sitting, dead than lying down." EASTERN PROVERB. WERE well, me thinks, at freshening dawn, (Within thy heart its lightness,) To stand, and watch, upon the lawn, The land aflame with brightness; To trace, upon his upward way, The lark at distance flying ; So standing, to forget the day, The strife around thee lying. Better to sit ! as it might be, That half-lit thought divining, ( 102) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Couches, of quaintest broidery, Await but thy re-dining. If in its loneliness the scene Thy drooping thought abashes, Beside thee may some loved one lean, While the warm fire-light flashes. Better to lie ! The curtains drawn, The bed all quiet lonely; While thou, upon it, waitest dawn, Dreading its brightness only. Still in thy heart is Passion s throne ; New hopes are round thee starting ; Though from thee to thyself unknown, The ancient life is parting. Best to be dead ! Thus liest thou now ; No more a pilgrim, weeping ; The haven reached, upon thy brow At last a peace is sleeping. * STUDIES FOR POEMS. Thy struggles they are past and gone ; Theirx shade no longer o er thee ; Thou wak st to find another dawn, Another life before thee. EULALIE DE LA PROVIDENCE. (DIED MARCH, 1875.) E stood within the holy place Of penitence and prayer ; Even with the sunbeams on her face, I could not think her fair. Not hers youth s calmly radiant pride, Nor beauty s softer glow ; Those spells whose powers so often hide The barrenness below. I see her still, as silently She stood there, pale and meek, A worn-out nun, no light in eye, Nor colour in her cheek ! But yet, some fire divine had cast Her life within its mould, ( 105) STUDIES FOR POEMS. And all the story of that past Upon her face was told. In every deep-ploughed line the token Lay, of some touching grace ; Though the heart s joy-spring might be broken, Yet, Peace had ta en its place ! Self-conquest, Patience, Love, Regret, By Truth s unfaltering hand; Were not these symbols clearly set For all to understand? She knelt ; the rest her looks had worn Seemed deepening round her there ; And half I felt my spirit borne Onwards to meet her prayer. Such dreams, perhaps, as conquerors choose Before her thoughts might rise, As from the windows different hues Crossed her uplifted eyes. STUDIES FOR POEMS. I staid, how long, I do not know ; Some spell was o er me cast ; A lingerer I, who might not go Until that prayer was past ! But she has risen ; and now, I see (The lauds, lamentings, said, ) That form move onward reverently, With bent and drooping head. But then her looks, by some strange chance Fell on me, there, apart ; Startled, I met one searching glance, That seemed to read my heart ; I looked away ; they shone too bright, Too keen, those eyes of prayer ; It was as when we shrink from light More than our strength can bear. I rose, and all the treacherous blood Rushed fiercely to my heart STUDIES FOB POEMS. As in the silence there we stood, So near, yet so apart ! Outward I passed. That nun and I, Never again may meet, But memory bids me, till I die, Cherish the vision sweet. (108) * CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME DE BONSECOURS. (ERECTED 1773.) EAR relic of a fruitful Past! Not yet thy work is done, Though ninety years have o er thee cast Their shadow and their sun ; Thou wearest yet, serene and free, The ancient stately grace, And strangers come, to look on thee, And know thee in thy place I The autumn breeze, in tenderest mood, Its magic on thee lays; And ever o er thee seems to brood The light of other days. * STUDIES FOR POEMS. The mart is close ; more swiftly on Rushes the living tide ! On all, methinks, those cycles gone, Breathe as they pass thy side. What tales thy stones could tell of power, Of promise and decay, The glorious visions of an hour That rose and passed away! What scenes those silent walls might see ! Vain suppliance, mad regret, Whose memory, in these days, may be A troubled darkness yet ! Thy aisles the swelling strains have known, Of Victory s days of pride ; A radiance through their gloom has shone On bridegroom and on bride. And then those other seasons grew, When Plague was in the air, STUDIES FOR POEMS, When myriads saw their doom, and knew Nothing was left but Prayer. Those days are Thou lookest o er! Still to the skies full and free; Firm, as we hope, thou yet mayst rise. For yeai to be. many All round thee altered ; landmarks flown, The ways, the looks of yore ; But the Man s nature thou hast known, That changes nevermore ! (in) CLOTHO, LACHESIS, ATROPOS. I. NE, young, lay dying. Quiet, now The smooth and silver tongue ; And careless, from the death-hued brow The matted curls were flung. Scarce on the pillow moved his head; Yet, resting ever there, Solemn and stately as the dead, And, like them, coldly fair, A woman sat. Through all the gloom Of deepening night, her face Passionless, rayless, in that room Kept its appointed place. STUDIES FOR POEMS. Who is she ? In her eyes no tears, No pity, and no strife ; She is u the Fury with the shears To slit the thin-spun life." II. The hours passed onward. Still the same That haunted chamber s sleep, When from the sick man s couch there came A muttering, low but deep. For groans his lips had vainly striven, But now they spoke in power; It was as subtle strength were given Before the final hour. Those lips, alas ! spoke nought of prayer, Of penitence, . or praise ; They told, in those last moments there, The story of his days. H (us) STUDIES FOR POEMS. III. I was a child. The earth, the sky, The long-descending beam, Made Life tri all I could not fly ; A riddle, and a dream. Its web above me grew and grew, Woven in a mystic shroud; While my wild heart existence drew From every flower and cloud. And if the skies were dim, I brought My hopes to darkening lands; And if the heaven was fair, methought My spirit clapped her hands. O Sun! O Mother! thou wert mine, In those fair summers past; The days I worshiped at thy shrine, Hast thou forgot at last? ("4) STUDIES FOE POEMS. It is so much to breathe, to be, More than all words have told ! My eyes, in Death s deep shadows, see More clearly than of old. This was my time, that time when I Before my days of strife, Knew not what fate should o er me lie, But lived an inward life. IV. The days passed on. The shadows deep Of Life upon me rose. I had done with fairy tales of sleep, I had to meet my foes. The World, the Flesh, the Devil ! See ! I have known them, each and all; If Saint Aloysius had been me, He had answered to their call. ("5) STUDIES FOR POEMS. But one thing might have saved me yet, I asked a perfect friend ; One to reproach not, nor forget, But love unto the end. Thou, in Thy righteousness full soon, O Lord ! didst fix my lot ; I had not merited such boon, And so, Thou gav st it not. V. The days passed on. In manhood s prime All know some radiant hours; Are there not also things whose slime One finds among the flowers ? Everywhere, everywhere the same ; Wherever eyes may fall, Or thought pause, still the hue of shame, The serpent s trail o er all. (116 } STUDIES FOR POEMS. My visions fell before me then, Fell, for they could not save. Deceitful are the hearts of men, And cruel as the grave." From my youth up Thy terrors, Lord, I have suffered in my mind." When I am gone, be this dread word The last I leave behind. VI. Life spread before me, a vast plain, More boundless than the sea; I walked on, wondering, in my pain, Such its immensity. I walked on and my feet would tire, And stumble here and there; It was as though Life s central fire Died in a thought s despair. ("7) STUDIES FOR POEMS. And, sudden as I looked, my brow Scars of remorse, regret, I felt the end was nearing now, Life s bitter sun would set. Ah ! did I mourn ? When one has lain Long years on dungeon-floor, Is it sad there comes an end to pain, That Angels ope the door? My God ! my God ! Thou gav st me life Without my wish or will ; Thou doom st me not, through wastes of strife, To walk and suffer still. Thou, my Soul, knowest, whatever lies Beyond this life of ours, Can not be bitterer than its sighs, More fading than its flowers. * STUDIES FOE POEMS. And, be this natural thrill of fear, - Be it exulting pride, I know not, but my foes shall hear u He lives, and he has died." u Their murmurs, like the ocean-sands, About my thoughts are blown. I am taken from their cruel hands, And rest with Death alone. VII. u Ah, Lord! these bitter words forgive, Wrung from my agony ! Thou hast known well what it was to live, And earnest here to die. "Thou knowest my heart is only dumb Through all it longs to say ; Thou knowest this bitterness has come From hopes that went astray. ("9) STUDIES FOR POEMS. "Thou knowest this soul of mine is dull, Poisoned with anguish past. Oh, is it not most merciful Man shall not judge at last ? " I can recall one angel fair, Who has run the bitter race, Loved me on earth and loves me there, Before the throne of grace. " In life Thou gav st her, Lord, to me, To warn, console, and guide ; In my death-hour, O let me see That vision at my side ! " The gasping voice died down ; that voice Once all overflowing power ; Its weakness might his heart rejoice, Sign of the mystic hour. 120 ) STUDIES FOR POEMS. There raised itself a wasted hand, And pointed to the door. Atropos rose. I saw her stand Beside his couch no more. But when the morn, slow glimmering red, Her rays upon him cast, He has seen the Angel," then I said; 4< She was with him at the last." THE FAIR BRIDEGROOM. SWEET, sweet Death! Thou seem st Oft to rise Out of the sunset deep ; Thou kissest me between the eyes, To wake me from my sleep. Life s sleep of woe ! Thou hoiiorest me ; I lie within thine arms ; Held in that clasp, I can but see Thy pity and thy charms. My Heart!" thou sayest, "my Heart! I yearned For thee, in all thy ways ; Saw how, each hour, thy spirit turned From Earth s embittered days. (122) STUDIES FOR POEMS. "It mattered not, by land or sea ; Ever thy sorrows there ; The peace these hands have kept for thee Shall match thy long despair. " For these slow clouds, there shall be skies Serene as thy desire ; For tears that never left thine eyes, A vision as of fire. " For words that died in agony Triumphant hymns shall wave Their soft-Tone-banners, true and free, Above thy happy grave." 123) AT THE END. " I saw, also, that there was an ocean of darkness and death ; but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness. In that, also, I saw the infinite love of God." GEORGE Fox s JOURNAL. HIS, not that, is true, mine own; True, far beyond these sighs ; Just as I see not eyes alone Looking from out thine eyes. Just as I hear not issuing words From out those lips serene ; Instead, the truth of flashing swords Such as might guard a queen. There is a spirit-radiancy That sight must all forego STUDIES FOE POEMS. It is not thy mortality Thyself that makes me know. Thus, when all hopes but mockery seem. All shadows one, Despair ; Thyself, the real within a dream, Flashest upon me there ; And, whatsoever light or grace May yet be mine, I see No sweeter memory than your face, God s loving thought for me ! The days depart; the black waves rise About life s barren strand; There is no freshness in the skies No greenness on the land. But God looks on ; His hand is there, Where nought but chaos seems ; * STUDIES FOE POEMS. He brings, from discords of despair, The music of our dreams. And now, look close ! the black waves creep, Lessening their noisome strife; And other waters o er them sweep, Bearing the hues of life. These triumph, and not those ! We see The olive-branch, the dove; Not Death, but Life, our destiny; Not Hate at last but Love. LINES OX THE ADJOURNMENT OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, ON RECEIVING TIDINGS OF THE DEATH OF SIR GEORGE CORNEWALL LEWIS, BART., SECRETARY OF WAR, APRIL 14, 1863. HE ranks are gathered, not to fight, To struggle, or to dare; Ah, no, for 011 this meeting night Far other thoughts are there. Hushed is th upbraiding word the flow Of passion calmed to peace ; One mightier shoots his bolt, and lo ! Earth s petty tumults cease. ? And faction s reign itself is past, For one brief solemn hour; (127) Hi * STUDIES FOR POEMS. As brothers here they bend at last, Before a sterner power ! Few are the words, but fitly said, That speak the sense of all That pay due honor to the dead, His deeds and worth recall. Opponents rise to touch the theme, And speak with saddening praise, Of gifts and powers they well might deem Deserving longer days. * Finished those words that duty done, And, till the morrow s light, They leave the mighty pile alone, To silence and to night ! Kind Heaven ! we would not bend to thee In bitterness and gloom ; * Several of Sir George Lewis s strongest political opponents expressed, on this occasion, their high sense of his virtues and talents, and their deep regret at his untimely death. (128) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Thy mercy only might decree The mercy of the tomb ! Grant us these years, that fade so fleet, To guide, in" strength and power; Grant us, prepared and calm, to meet The last and final hour; Grant us, when all our path is trod, As loved to reach the grave, As he, who rests beneath the sod, Where Cambrian blue-bells wave ! " SAVED:" AVED!" But I wandered far and wide, Where rocks and thorns were set ; My heart 110 single instant tried To scale its Olivet. " Saved ! " But one thing alone I knew, Despair, that filled my soul; All else was shadowy, this was true, My anguish and my goal. " Saved ! " Though an angel spoke the words, Could they be true for me? When God s hand so has crushed the chords, Can they speak victory? " Saved!" But the victory is not mine, If mine the last defeat; (130) STUDIES FOR POEMS. If the unearned gift, O Lord, be thine, At least, such gift were sweet. Saved ! " But a sinner once drew life Twixt stirrup and the ground; There must be peace beyond the strife, When what was lost, is found. (130 FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. I. <E ATH is the night, so cool and free ; Our life the sultry day; Already fades its light for me ; * I am weary of the way. Above my bed a tree grows near; There sings the nightingale ; She only sings of love ; I hear Even in my dreams her tale. II. I wept once in my sleep ; I thought Thou wast laid within the grave ; I woke, and that dark dream had brought Salt tears my cheeks to lave. STUDIES FOE POEMS. I wept once in my sleep ; I dreamed Thou hadst forsaken me ; I woke, the mournful torrents streamed Yet long and bitterly. I wept once in my sleep ; I dreamed Thou still to me wast good; * I woke, arid yet forever streamed My passionate weeping s flood. (133) FROM KARL GEROK. GOLGOTHA. " I have in my thought travelled through many times, even through the Eternities; but God be praised, wher ever I have come, nothing has touched my heart like Golgotha. ZINZENDORFF. HROUGH the dim ways of many lands, The Wanderer s staff I bore ; From many a rocky point these eyes Have traced the valleys o er, But far beyond each earthly hill That Memory makes her own, There rises to my vision still, Golgotha s mount alone. It lifts not upward to the clouds An ice-crowned forehead high ; ( 134 ) STUDIES FOR POEMS. Men watch it not, through sunny air, "Flatter with sovran eye;" But lifted firm from earth away, - Set near to Heaven at last, I have but felt, upon the day I by Golgotha passed. Upon its desolate forehead bare, No woody crownlet lies ; Neither the oak, serene and fair, - Nor cedar s mysteries ; But cedars, kingliest of the land That Hermon s slopes could know, They bow their heads unto the dust Golgotha s cross below. Nothing is there that we behold Of Earth s bewildering pride, Not fields, bedecked with green and gold, Nor silver streamlets wide ; * Shakespeare, Sonnet xxxiii. ( 35) STUDIES FOR POEMS. But all earth s glare before my view Fell, as a shadow flies, When on Golgotha s cross I knew The atoning Sacrifice. Yonder no little brooklet peeps From mossy stone or sand; No proud stream from that summit leaps Downward into the land; But from that cross s stem there flows Through all lands, rich and fair, The spring of everlasting life ; Golgotha s blood is there. About that mountain s brow there flowers No golden sunshine sweet; Year in, year out, strange tempest-powers Seem ever there to meet ; But where the bluest, loveliest heaven O er Greece and Rome may shine, STUDIES FOR POEMS. Those holy shadows were not given That made Golgotha mine. The haughty heathen striketh here In penitence, his breast; . The sinner s death-song rises clear Among the spirits blest; But yonder angel-harps may raise A sacred Gloria, The Eternities for.ever praise The deed of Golgotha. Thou poor, soul-poisoned Pilgrim, stay Yonder is rest for thee ; He, the Sin-bearer, takes thy doom To give thee Liberty; Thou need st not any more to roam Unhealed beneath the skies ; And yet, the way unto thy home Over Golgotha lies. (137) N <dk^ fer " SONG OF AUTUMN. (FROM THE FRENCH.) flower already faded now Burns in the sunlight deep ; Crowned with foreboding and with woe Earth enters in its sleep. Let us unveil our thoughts alone, At Memory s mournful call; We dream on all things past and gone Under these leaves that fall. The heart, humane and generous, sighs Over all sweetness past; Soft yearnings in the spirit rise For what is dead at last. (138) STUDIES FOR POEMS. As through these withered leaves we go, Too plainly it appears, How much must wound the heart below, And fill the eyes with tears. Regarding then our life, we see How sweet and blest a one, Through every sorrow, it may be So it have Love alone; . We give to God, upon our knees, Thanks for His mercy s sake, And of our vows, that cannot cease, A double prayer we make. (139) TO A FATHER ON THE DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER. (FROM THE FRENCH OF MALHERBE.) HY sorrow, then, my friend, shall last forever ? And memories of the past, That thy paternal heart may vanquish never, Still haunt thee to the last? Thy daughter s fate, thus to the tomb de scending, To meet the fate of all, Is that some maze, where Reason, dimly wending? Cannot itself recall ? STUDIES FOR POEMS. I know the cares, the hopes, that marked her way, That filled her childhood s years; Injurious friend ! I have not sought to stay The current of thy tears. But she was of this world, whfere things most bright Fade swiftest to decay; A rose, she bloomed like roses in the light One morn, and passed away. Death has her terrors, like to none beside; We pray and shriek in vain ; The torturer, deafened with remorseless pride, But leaves us to our pain. The peasant, in the hut where poor men wait, Before her rule must cower; Nor can the guards that watch the palace gate Defend the monarch s power. (HI ) LAI. Lais were the lyric poetry of the old French poets, who were imitated by some amongst the English. They were principally used on melancholy subjects, and are said to have been formed on the model of the trochaic verses of the Greek and Latin tragedies. Pere Mourguy gives us a pleasing instance of one of these ancient lais, in his Treatise of French Poetry : Sur 1 appuis du monde Que faut il qu on fonde? D espoir ? Cette mer profonde, En debris feconde Fait voir Calme au matin, 1 onde Et Forage y gronde Le soir. (142) STUDIES FOR POEMS. TRANSLATION. In the world s faith, uncertain, blind, What is the trust our hearts may find Hope s dream of light? That dim, profound, and treacherous sea, Fruitful in wrecks and woes to be, Gives to our sight Seems calm at morn, where surging wave And hurrying tempests howl and rave, Ere sinks the night ! (143) INDEX. Page A Christmas Song, 99 A Death Bed, 18 A First View of Quebec, 91 Amine, 34 An Oriental Salutation, 33 At the End, 124 Church Bells in Venice, 86 Church of Notre Dame de Bonsecours. . . .109 Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos, 112 Dying Song of the Italian Soldier, .... 24 Elmire s Portrait, 85 Eulalie de la Providence, 105 Fate and Free-will, 56 From Karl Gerok Golgotha, 134 From the German of Heine, . . . .132 In Autumn, 97 In Milan Cathedral, . 78 L Affinita, 10 ( MS) INDEX. Page Lai, 142 Lines suggested by Two Stone Figures at Rouen Cathedral, 48 Mala Prohibita Mala in Se, ..... 53 On the Adjournment of the House of Commons on the death of Sir George Comewall Lewis, Bart., 127 Prelude, 5 Saved, . . , . . 130 Song of Autumn, 138 Teresa of Avila before her Crucifix, . . . 31 The Choice, .102 The Fair Bridegroom, ...... 122 The Grave of Fenice, 81 The Mystical Land, 74 The Nun, 28 The Prisoner of the Hunger Tower, ... 64 The Roots of Life, 61 The Yoyage of the Petrel, 40 To a Father on the Death of his Daughter. . . 140 To a Friend, 88 To Clarice, 16 To my Sister of the Sacred Heart, .... 7 Two Springs, 94 We are Three, 38 ( 146)