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 Oxford Verses. 
 
 H. A. MORRAH.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 'ilju^JLUj- , 
 
 K^Kj?
 
 IN COLLEGE GROVES 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER VERSES.
 
 In 
 
 College Groves 
 
 And other Oxford Verses : 
 chiefly reprinted from the 
 Oxford AIagazine. 
 
 BY 
 
 H. A. MORRAH. 
 
 ' The generations pass, as they have passed, 
 A troop of shadows moving with the sun.'' 
 
 1^ 
 
 ALDEN & CO. Ltd., BOCARDO PRESS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT AND CO., LTD. 
 
 1894.
 
 lo 1 10- 
 
 The greater number of the verses in this 
 volume have appeared during the past two 
 years and a half in the Oxford Magazine : and 
 I desire here to express my gratitude for the 
 permission which has been accorded me to 
 reprint them. I have also to acknowledge a 
 similar courtesy, with respect to certain verses 
 at the 6nd of the book, from the Editors of 
 the Cambridge Review. 
 
 H. A. M. 
 
 St. John's College, 
 Oxford. 
 
 November, 1893. 
 
 824201
 
 TO 
 ISAAC GREGORY SMITH, 
 
 M.A., LL.D., 
 
 Formerly Fellow of Brasenose College, Oxford ; 
 Hon. Canon of Worcester. 
 
 I ASK you, kindest friend, to take 
 This tribute for your kindness' sake, 
 
 My thankfulness in simple phrase ; 
 And let these grateful tones atmke 
 
 The sleeping thoughts of early days. 
 
 For -inhile the sun's too dazzlitig beams 
 Flood my poor brain, and many dreams 
 
 Adoum her chanfiels teeming flow: 
 I tread these groves, a fid then it seems 
 
 J must have known them long aso.
 
 viii DEDICATION. 
 
 Both you and I were younger then, 
 And wiser, too, than older men 
 
 Who vieui'd the world 7vith straining eyes 
 There was no la?id beyond our ken, 
 
 And ?w?ie, except ourselves, were wise. 
 
 Do you rente ?nber still, our plan 
 For rehabilitating Man, 
 
 How Men would smile our hopes aivay ? 
 The years have sped since we began. 
 
 And we have smiled, as well as they. 
 
 Those happy times, illuming still 
 The daily work we must fulfil. 
 
 Our beacon-pyres have ever been. 
 Lighting the points of hill and hill 
 
 And even the vale that lies betiveen. 
 
 Happy, because they still inspire 
 Your hand to take her subject lyre 
 
 And mine to siveep an echoing string. 
 Till, glowing with the selfsame fire, 
 
 Your lips and mine together sing.
 
 DEDICATION. ix 
 
 Therefore a dream it is not all, 
 Whe?i fancies on my soul that fall 
 
 The season of viy days belie ; 
 One life is ours : one Mother's call 
 
 Evokes from us a like reply : 
 
 One home hath claimed our love, and zve 
 Have but one thought in all liie see ; 
 
 One will to make our purpose one ; 
 And one strong hope to keep us free 
 
 When we must face the sinking sun.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 DEDICATION vii 
 
 IN COLLEGE GROVES:— 
 
 1. St. John's i 
 
 2. New College 5 
 
 3. Magdalen 9 
 
 4. Worcester 13 
 
 5. Balliol 16 
 
 JFRONDES AC A DEM I:— 
 
 A Challenge from Athens 23 
 
 To Lady Radnor 26 
 
 Ode commemorative of a Recent Appointment . 28 
 
 North, South, East, and West . . . . 31 
 
 A Song ok Months 32 
 
 Plus de Politi'iue 38 
 
 A Remonstrance 41 
 
 Vanitas Vanitatum 43 
 
 Change ! 47 
 
 The Song of a Passionate Pilgrim .... 50 
 
 A Bargain with Brother Jonathan .... 55 
 
 A Question of Criticism 59 
 
 A Soliloquy 62 
 
 A Welcome to Oxford . . . . . . 65
 
 xii CONTENTS. 
 
 VACATION SONGS:— 
 
 MOSEL-LlED 69 
 
 Betty 72 
 
 Idlesse 75 
 
 To F. C. M 77 
 
 Rhapsody 79 
 
 Celia 81 
 
 'O Sing Again" 83 
 
 AT CLOSE OF DAY:— 
 
 DuM Spiro Spero 87 
 
 The Auld Shepherd to his Dor, .... 89 
 
 " Av}ipwv ' AvaKTL 92 
 
 Lux IN Tenebris 94 
 
 In Memoriam E. H. B 96 
 
 In Memoriam J. K. S 98 
 
 Sunset 100
 
 IN COLLEGE GROVES.
 
 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 I.—ST. JOHN'S. 
 
 I. 
 
 A LITTLE while, a very little while 
 
 The right is mine through these dear groves 
 to stray ; 
 But, having known them thus, their tender smile, 
 Their friendly light, will touch my life-long 
 
 way, 
 Bright as this sunshine gilds the lawn to-day. 
 
 A little while ; and even now I see 
 
 From moon to moon each gradual change 
 appear, 
 With jealous eyes I notice carefully, 
 Moving apace, the brilliant to the sere. 
 Spring, summer, autumn, and the fall of the 
 year. 
 
 B
 
 2 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 And when a shadow falls upon my soul, 
 
 The death-like phantom of a wasted hour, 
 And fingers point me to the distant goal 
 That should be nearer ; while the shadows roll 
 Here in these silent groves from flower to 
 flower : 
 
 My youthful blood is warmer than before, 
 
 For still in heaven there shines one single 
 star 
 Both day and night for me, upon the store 
 And fountain of my life, and covers o'er 
 
 Honours that might have been, with hopes 
 that are. 
 
 II. 
 
 For here my trust in earth-fcund treasure, here 
 All my fond loves have framed and nurtured 
 been ; 
 
 And, though I leave them soon, I need not fear 
 Forgetfulness of this familiar scene. 
 This earthly Paradise of grey and green ;
 
 ST. JOHN'S. 3 
 
 This royal front and ancient house of grace 
 Graved on my brain in every curve and line, 
 
 No stern assault of Time can aye efface ; 
 
 And this last window, where the creepers 
 
 twine, 
 Is dearer than the rest, for it is mine. 
 
 Mine for a season only,, since for me 
 
 The thought is not here in these groves to 
 dwell ; 
 Others may long their proud possessors be, 
 Others, who shall have won them worthily, 
 But never can have loved them half so well. 
 
 III. 
 
 Enough for me that I have learn'd to know 
 This glorious garden-ground, and yet may 
 roam 
 A little longer, where the varied glow 
 Of many blossoms planted high and low 
 
 Lights up the land that I have call'd my 
 home ;
 
 4 fN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 Enough, enough : and soon to turn with pain 
 But still with hope, from groves untouch'd by 
 care, 
 
 Thinking some day to tread this path again ; 
 As one who leaves some house serenely fair, 
 And trusts awhile to be remember'd there.
 
 I I. -NEW COLLEGE. 
 
 TO O. N. 
 
 I. — The Question. 
 
 Friend, if a man could hear your organ peal 
 From this old window, one whose lot is cast 
 
 Deep in the mould of labour, and could feel 
 New from the blazing sun and scathing blast 
 Aught of the love that sanctifies the past : 
 
 I think the shock of those God-given powers 
 Sudden and solemn thrilling through his brain 
 
 Would fill his heart with higher aims than ours, 
 And he beneath these crumbling stones attain 
 The wish and will to live his life again. 
 
 But we, with dubious morals on our lips, 
 
 And scornful smiles for every youthful whim. 
 
 Who would not stay the merciless eclipse 
 That makes the glory of a planet dim. 
 Have kept our way without a thought of him.
 
 6 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 We have our virtues : if it were not so 
 This lofty pile were long ago decay'd, 
 
 Nor would these garlands thus divinely glow 
 That fringe the mantles of descending shade 
 And deck the sober earth before they fade : 
 
 But if in playing our appointed part 
 
 We fail to take the measure of our pride, 
 
 That splendid force wrung from the Founder's 
 heart 
 Long years ago, is shaken and denied, 
 And but the names of ancient laws abide. 
 
 II. — The Answer. 
 
 The Founder sleeps : no dreams disturb his rest. 
 
 His mute companions praying at his feet* 
 Bear the same hope to God which east and 
 west 
 Long generations bore : that here the seat 
 Of truth might stand, and grace and know- 
 ledge meet. 
 
 "In the chantry at Winchester.
 
 NEW COLLEGE. 7 
 
 All prayers are heard ; and if a thousand fears 
 And doubts arise ; if all our sages cry 
 
 Because the footsteps of the fleeting years 
 
 Beat change too slowly, whilst their pulses 
 
 die ; 
 There still remains the guiding force on high. 
 
 " O let us keep our cloisters free from change ! " 
 " O call true freedom from the ancient days ! " 
 
 Who gives the answer r In the endless range 
 Of chance, what choice will best direct our 
 
 ways ? 
 Let us be silent : seek, in prayer and praise, 
 
 The light, the truth, the faith, until the end : 
 Leave all vex'd questions ; life is scarce 
 begun ; 
 
 Knowing that here in light the Virtues bend"* 
 Their gaze upon us, lest a day should run 
 To its last hour, and good remain undone. 
 
 *> Referring to the famous window in New College Chapel.
 
 8 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 Then there shall be more kindness, less delight 
 In setting riddles for poor souls to guess : 
 
 More earnest battles for strong arms to fight : 
 More sense, more common honesty, and less 
 Of that coarse scorn men take for cleverness.
 
 III.— MA GDALEN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Not once, but often, by this favour' d stream 
 Whence on the land perpetual pleasures smile 
 Flooding with light each ivy-column'd aisle. 
 
 My soul hath rais'd the palace of her dream. 
 
 Jasper, and pearl, and purple amethyst 
 
 Shine from the walls : the floor is paved with 
 
 gold: 
 The ceiling, gemm'd and jewell'd, doth un- 
 fold 
 A dazzling space the sun hath lately kist. 
 
 Here Time can take occasion to delay, 
 
 Within these walls his step is seen sedate. 
 For man's goodwill it seems his pride to 
 wait 
 
 And rest awhile upon his hasty way.
 
 lo IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 To these fair halls what chosen joys belong! 
 
 What untold pleasures from her gardens spring! 
 
 What high desires when men arise to sing 
 At dawn of day the Eucharistic song ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Come, while the world is asleep, 
 
 Rise, ere the day is begun ; 
 
 Once again greeting the sun ; 
 'Tis a love-tryst that you keep ! 
 Come, while the world is asleep ! 
 
 See, in the blushes of day, 
 Hear, in the lays of the birds, 
 Happiness higher than words, 
 
 Hope, higher far than decay, 
 
 See, in the blushes of day ! 
 
 Listen, a thanksgiving song 
 
 Comes, as the morning appears; 
 Light grow the burdens of years ; 
 
 Tender, and joyful, and strong, 
 
 Listen, a thanksgiving song!
 
 MAGDALEN. ii 
 
 III. 
 
 My palace fades, as castles built of air 
 
 Are shatter'd by the lightest passing breeze ; 
 The hymn dies down to silence thro' the trees; 
 
 And still I wander in a garden fair. 
 
 Fortune is full of kindness. Men complain 
 Of her rebuffs : but here she hath combin'd 
 The joys of body and the joys of mind 
 
 Against the sternest discipline of pain. 
 
 Many will rise, in days to come, and bless 
 The hours through which she shone upon them 
 
 here ; 
 Some, whom the greater world hath reckon'd 
 dear; 
 Many, whose lives gave cause for thankfulness ; 
 
 Many whom ne'er the eyes of wisdom knew 
 For worth or courage, or desired to see 
 High in the world's esteem, as those must be 
 
 Who draw new hopes within the common view.
 
 12 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 IV 
 
 And now the air is tuneful with the sound 
 Of voices calling, " Onward ! dream no more ; 
 Naught cares the world for this fantastic 
 lore; 
 Onward ! " And I must go : for these have 
 found 
 
 The zest of life in action. Be it so ! 
 
 These have their dreams, and thus bring back 
 the light 
 
 Of early days to their supernal sight : 
 Their work is done, but mine remains to do. 
 
 Still when the dews rise mistily, or fall 
 Unseen upon the meadows, I may ken 
 Among the busy ways of storm -tried men 
 
 Their daily presence ; ay, and sometimes call 
 
 That palace built long since in Magdalen groves 
 From the dim distance into life again. 
 For here is truth, if any truths remain : 
 
 The soul must find, or die, the things it loves.
 
 /K— WORCESTER. 
 
 Deem it not all presumptuous, if I praise 
 
 Worcester, thy name, and honour, and delight, 
 
 Mindful of him, thy son, who loved to raise <= 
 
 The burden of his memorable days, 
 
 And sing the glories of thy "terraced height" : 
 
 Since with a friend's and not a stranger's pace 
 I wander here beneath thy trees which shine 
 
 In mirrors where their branches interlace ; 
 
 And linger yet a little while, to trace 
 
 The chequer'd life and story that is thine. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now strange monastic shadows, grown more cold 
 
 Than desolate winter-darkness, rise to fill 
 Thy heart and home, and fearful I behold 
 As in a glass their ghostly arms enfold 
 Thyself and thine within embraces chill. 
 
 * The late Dean Burgon of Chichester.
 
 14 //V COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 But now the clouds are lifting, and a call — 
 
 A sudden call to arms hath pierced the gloom : 
 Rise thou to meet it, lest a heavier pall 
 Descend, dear Worcester, on thy glades, and fall 
 Thy name unhonour'd to its unknown doom ! 
 
 III. 
 
 'Tis well ; decline and honour pass the gate 
 
 Close on each other's steps, and hasten on 
 Along the mazy pathways, then to wait 
 Until at last the high behest of Fate 
 Command the one or other to be gone. 
 
 And when a single unsubstantial breath 
 
 Divides the bournes of splendour and distress, 
 
 There strive together strength of life and death ; 
 
 But Fate the word of love awakening saith. 
 And there is room for hope and happiness.
 
 WORCESTER. 15 
 
 IV. 
 
 So to recall old struggles it is well ; 
 
 Though pains of battle long forgotten lie, 
 Batter'd the walls of every citadel 
 Point to the perils which of old befell, 
 
 Lest men forget how easily they die. 
 
 And here, because the voices of the dead 
 
 Yield many a message with a tender tone, 
 Keep, Worcester, on the pleasant path they tread 
 Still for thy sons the lamp of wisdom fed, 
 And they shall dare to face the world alone.
 
 V.—BALLIOL. 
 
 October 2nd, i8gj. 
 I. 
 
 The same, yet not the same. Since yesternight 
 One leaf is fall'n from yonder sunlit bough, 
 Lies 'mongst the rest the ruddiest still, and 
 now 
 
 Hath caught in death hues of undying light. 
 
 There was due music to its timely fall ; 
 
 The sound of heav'nly anthems, and the strain 
 Of notes not all imperfect, whilst again 
 
 One grand chorale echoed through the hall. 
 
 And men could hear, as tho' strong voices sang 
 " Now thank we all our God " : and learn to 
 
 know 
 How truly in the ages long ago 
 
 This world of earth at first to order sprang.
 
 BALLIOL. 17 
 
 Then, with the moving of diviner breath, 
 Hear a new gospel on an angel's wing 
 Break through the golden silences, and bring 
 
 The broader day of unrestricted faith, 
 
 11. 
 
 Dear IMaster ! yours the power to teach, to 
 spread 
 
 Light from the heart of love-enkindled fires ; 
 
 Yours the supreme devotion, that inspires 
 Life from the ashes of the holy dead. 
 
 All thanks to you ! for dismal were the days : 
 Zeal undiscover'd, patience all a-cold. 
 Love little credited ; but you were bold : 
 
 And now the world grows weary in your praise. 
 
 The old, old story ! Take the lesson home, 
 Ye that are cramp' d and bound in narrow 
 
 spheres ; 
 God's world is wider than your hopes and 
 fears ; 
 Hither no harm in life or death can come. 
 
 C
 
 i8 IN COLLEGE GROVES. 
 
 But they whose lives are tuned to chords that 
 chime 
 With all things good unceasing harmonies 
 Have sighted first that favour'd land, which 
 lies 
 Between the farthest gulfs of time and time. 
 
 III. 
 
 And here, whilst daily voices ring to prayer 
 And the high roof answers the frequent song, 
 And still at darkening eventide the long 
 
 Call of forethoughtful birds hath caught the air : 
 
 Here thro' the constant change of work and rest, 
 Where, duly guided by his master-hand. 
 So many hearts have help'd to bind the band 
 
 That knits in one the zones of East and West : 
 
 Be yours the aim in earnest wise to make 
 All generous works firm-rooted and secure, 
 All noble plans half-fashion'd, to endure 
 
 'Gainst storm and tempest, for the Master's sake.
 
 BALLIOL. 19 
 
 Set high in sight the claims of brotherhood ; 
 The right of thought in things both great and 
 
 small ; 
 Learning, and learning's praise ; but first of 
 all 
 The name and fame and knowledge of the good.
 
 FRONDES ACADEML
 
 A CHALLENGE FROM ATHENS. 
 
 [ Vide a letter from Sir E. Monson, then Her Majesty's representative 
 in the Greek Capital, to the Times, Jan. 28, 189 1 (a few weeks after 
 the famous Head Masters' conference), on the vexed question of the 
 pronunciation of Greek.] 
 
 Quake with consternation frantic, 
 Doctors, dons, and deans pedantic ! 
 One prolific, 
 One terrific 
 Foe to follies professorial 
 Comes in arms, the Thunderer shielding, 
 Weapons all incisive wielding, 
 Comes, to shock your minds unyielding, 
 Modest Monson monitorial ! 
 
 " See," he cries from chair legative, 
 " Scholars unappreciative 
 
 Who, dull-witted, 
 
 Have omitted 
 Half the life from poets' pages :
 
 24 FRONDES AC A DEM I. 
 
 Note their false and wrong proportions, 
 Mark their tongues' uncouth contortions, 
 Mouthing insular abortions 
 
 From the lips of peerless sages ! " 
 
 O traducers of position, 
 Foes to ancient erudition, 
 Men erratic, 
 How emphatic 
 Is the truth that you are spurning! 
 ' Tis no shame, though men of letters, 
 Here and there to ape your betters. 
 Therefore, loose your self-wrought fetters ; 
 Ev'ry lane must have a turning. 
 
 Do ye not, ye tutors, mutter, 
 When incipient charges stutter ? 
 Words sarcastic, 
 Measures drastic 
 Frame ye not for men that mumble ? 
 Do ye not, when dim and hazy 
 Quantities obscure and crazy 
 Loom through some construction mazy, 
 Liberally groan and grumble r
 
 A CHALLENGE FROM ATHENS. 25 
 
 Do ye not, with sigh and shudder, 
 Shun the man that talks of "Budder" 
 (Meaning Buddha) 
 As you would a 
 Nasty dose of paregoric ? 
 His offence is over- rated ; 
 Yours is not one whit abated ; 
 Be has never claim'd nor stated 
 An omniscience historic. 
 
 Stay, ye learned, and in staying 
 Know the danger of delaying; 
 Stir your action 
 To retraction, 
 
 Scotch and kill your aberration ; 
 Or announce, in terms laconic. 
 Telegraphic, telephonic, — 
 Dons and doctors deferential 
 To Head Masters consequential : 
 '■'■English-Greek is not essential; 
 
 We withdraw the Obligation ! "
 
 TO LADY RADNOR. 
 
 [On the occasion of her visit to Oxford, with her ladies' orchestra, 
 for the performance of "King John" by the O.U.D.S.] 
 
 Lady, ere your music dies, 
 
 And its echo, fainting, faileth. 
 While those thrilling harmonies 
 
 To renew, it yet availeth ; 
 Ere relentless Time, the thorn 
 
 To our rose of Life's enjoyment, 
 You and yours afar have borne, 
 
 Us recall'd to stern employment : 
 
 Take our thanks ! although they be 
 
 Framed in terms unsatisfying, 
 Since the tools of courtesy 
 
 Practice we have none in plying ; 
 Thanks unworthy, — we in vain 
 
 Soar to themes of exaltation ; 
 How could otherwise a plain 
 
 Prose-entrammell'd generation ?
 
 TO LAD Y RADNOR. ay 
 
 In the polish'd golden days. 
 
 Days of dalliance and pleasure, 
 Men would set their grateful phrase 
 
 To some quaint melodious measure ; 
 Gallants would themselves forswear, 
 
 Bold with oaths of classic savour, 
 Did they know, from ladies fair 
 
 So remarkable a favour ! 
 
 Speak we though of days agone. 
 
 This too stolid age forgetting; 
 Is it wonder, thinking on 
 
 Such a play, in such a setting ? 
 Gad, by Alma Mater's name 
 
 Ev'n our lukewarm hearts are burning, 
 Gratitude hath fann'd the flame, 
 Thus our lips our thanks acclaim : 
 
 " Speed the day of your returning ! "
 
 ODE COMMEMORATIVE OF A 
 RECENT APPOINTMENT. 
 
 [(Three years and a halO after the Laureate.] 
 I. 
 
 Sixty times the winter snows have fallen 
 (One and sixty times, to speak precisely), 
 Since, my lord, you were matriculated. 
 
 II. 
 
 Roundell, premier Lord of Selborne, 
 Noted for brilliant distinctions 
 Rare indeed in our annals ; 
 Winner of numerous prizes, 
 Mark'd with Oxonian approval, 
 Ratified by the great world; 
 Come, and receive with our blessing 
 All the regalia of Stewardship.
 
 ODE. 29 
 
 III. 
 
 Nothing of the arduous or the awkward, 
 Nothing of th' irrelevant or irksome : 
 All is sober, slow, somnolent sinecure. 
 
 IV. 
 
 You then, Heads of Houses, 
 You then, newly gown'd fledglings, 
 Meet all at midnight at Carfax ; 
 Send up the scintillating firework, 
 Spare not your caps, nor your voices, 
 Throw them promiscuously skyward, 
 Diff'rences drown and misgivings, 
 Drinking with zest to his Stewardship ! 
 
 V. 
 
 All his distinctions and his honours 
 
 But fulfil his youth's best hope and promise 
 
 They ^re the Natural History of Selborne ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 You, Lord Selborne, the learned, 
 You, the Hymn-book Compiler,
 
 50 FRONDES A CADE MI. 
 
 You that have added much lustre 
 In days gone by, to the "Woolsack : 
 You, good Carnarvon's good successor 
 Hailing, as he did, from Hampshire ; 
 Lend your kind ear to our welcome : 
 Read it, 'twill cheer you at Blackmoor : 
 Con it, and know that our greeting 
 Is " Length of days to your Stewardship ! " 
 
 VII. 
 
 Are there shadows on the life of Oxford r 
 Have some mortals bid farewell to sunshine ? 
 Stay ! though present hours be fraught with 
 
 sorrow, 
 And though the elements forewarn disruption, 
 We yet shall see, if we but welcome Selborne, 
 Once more "the light of other days" around us
 
 NORTH, SOUTH, EAST, AND WEST. 
 
 (After R.K.) 
 
 Oh I have been North and I have been South 
 
 and the East hath seen me pass, 
 And the West hath pillow'd me on her breast 
 
 that is circled round with brass, 
 And the "World hath laugh'd at me and I have 
 
 laugh'd at the World alone 
 With a loud hee-haw till my hard-work'd jaw is 
 
 stiff as a dead man's bone. 
 
 Oh I have been up and I have been down and 
 
 over the sounding sea, 
 And the wild birds cried as they dropp'd and 
 
 died at the terrible sight of me ; 
 For my head was crown'd with a star and bound 
 
 with the fire of utmost hell. 
 And I made my song with a brazen tongue, and 
 
 a more than fiendish yell.
 
 32 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 " O curse you all for the sake of men that have 
 
 lived and died for spite, 
 And be doubly curst for the dark ye make where 
 
 there ought to be but light ; 
 And thrice be curst by the deadly spell of a 
 
 woman's lasting hate ; 
 And drop you down to the mouth of hell who 
 
 would climb to the Golden Gate ! " 
 
 And the world grew green and grim and grey at 
 
 the horrible noise I made, 
 And held up its hands in a pious way when I 
 
 call'd a spade a spade ; 
 But I cared no whit for the blame of it, and 
 
 nothing at all for its praise, 
 And the whole consign'd with a tranquil mind 
 
 to a sempiternal blaze !
 
 NORTH, SOUTH, EAST, AND WEST. 33 
 
 All this have I done and have brought me back 
 
 to work at the set of sun, 
 While I put my seal to the thoughts I feel 
 
 in the twilight one by one ; 
 For I speak but sooth in the name of Truth 
 
 when I write such things as these ; 
 And the whole I send to a cultured friend, who 
 
 is learned in Kiplingese ! 
 
 D
 
 A SONG OF MONTHS. 
 
 See, the banners of the morning ! 
 
 Hark, acclaim of Chanticleer ! 
 All the world her way adorning, 
 
 Blooms the foremath of the year; 
 There is music eucharistic 
 
 From the tower of Magdalen, 
 And the poet, meek but mystic, 
 
 Takes his mild perennial pen. 
 
 Takes his pen, no longer fearing 
 
 Bane of any hostile moon. 
 For the summer is a-nearing, 
 
 May is harbinger of June ; 
 Wherefore nothing heard nor read of 
 
 His aerial flight deters. 
 Nay, nor any passing dread of 
 
 Lunacy Commissioners.
 
 A SONG OF MONTHS. 35 
 
 Chants he then : " Lahiintur menses,^* 
 Better thus, so Spring be sped ! 
 
 Better thus, so mortal senses 
 Be no longer tortured ! 
 
 Yet one sigh for January- 
 Must escape, though months divide ; 
 
 Shall no recollection tarry 
 Of our last toboggan-slide ? 
 
 But the sequent days, their rigour 
 
 (Thine, O Februarius !) 
 Chill'd the body, warp'd the figure, 
 
 Sear'd the very soul of us ; 
 Days, when merriment of " Johnner " 
 
 Wean'd the mind from tragedy, 
 Togger-days, replete with honour 
 
 Not alone for B.N.C. : 
 
 Days when good resolves at matin 
 Warm'd apace, but warm'd to cool ; 
 
 Weak they were, as passmen's Latin, 
 Weak as hymeneal rule :
 
 36 FRONDES AC A DEM I. 
 
 And the weather's strange vagaries 
 Chill'd our hearth and household gods, 
 
 To a tune whose echo varies 
 With the winds of March and " Mods." 
 
 April, destitute of glories 
 
 Came, when academic gloom 
 Mensis et procuratoris 
 
 Veil'd our tributes to the tomb ; 
 Came, the diligent precursor 
 
 Of a " pathless tide of ills," 
 When the grim and greedy bursar 
 
 Framed his tortuous battel-bills. 
 
 These are past : and now in duty 
 
 (Every month must have her due) 
 Hymns the poet " May-and-Beauty " 
 
 (Though he sings of nothing new) ; 
 Tests his immature conviction — 
 
 " Poets must be up-to-date " — 
 In his choicest flower-diction, 
 
 Sense alert, and soul elate :
 
 A SONG OF MONTHS. 37 
 
 See, the morning banners rosy ! 
 
 Hark, the royal roundelay ! 
 Haste ye, deftly twine the posy 
 
 Dew-besprent, for Queen of May ; 
 Hers the gift, though yours the giving. 
 
 Hers the choice, but yours the cheer, — 
 Light, and love, and all things living, 
 
 In the foremath of the year !
 
 PLUS DE POLITIQUE. 
 
 (With the usual apologies.) 
 "The Oxford Magazine has no politics." 
 
 No politics ! I think you 're right, 
 
 And yours the happiest scheme ! 
 Whilst others plot the livelong night, 
 
 You, peace-enthrall'd, shall dream ; 
 You, when the earth absorbs the dew 
 
 And dear Apollo's ray, 
 Shall your invigorate theme renew: 
 
 "No politics to-day!" 
 
 No politics ! not even the plans 
 
 Drawn from some doubtful school, 
 Which neither bolsters up, nor bans 
 
 The projects of Home Rule ; 
 Not only 'gainst decisive fads 
 
 Your dictum stands to stay. 
 But "Tories none," you cry, "No Rads," 
 
 ** No politics to-day!"
 
 PLUS DE POLITIQUE. 39 
 
 I used to think, that here, no doubt 
 
 We should the plague elude 
 Of the electioneering tout 
 
 And his detested brood ; 
 But in his unregenerate train 
 
 A Tutor leads the way ; 
 Here then is reason for your pain : 
 
 " No politics to-day ! " 
 
 And then how sad, the disregard 
 
 Of politics for law! 
 How could they, think ye, deal so hard 
 
 With Mr. Bernard Shaw r 
 For nothing can, as nothing could. 
 
 The Magdalen rage allay ; 
 They thirst for socialistic blood : 
 
 " No politics to-day ! ^' 
 
 " No politics ! " the world will spin 
 
 Upon its axis fair, 
 Though you refrain from screwing in 
 
 Your tedious doctrinaire:
 
 40 FRONDES ACADEML 
 
 And blest indeed relief will be 
 
 From thoughts of "what will pay," 
 
 To those who join your catch and glee 
 " No politics to-day ! " 
 
 So let us talk of Mr. Snow 
 
 And of his Broad Church plot, 
 Of " what-you-call," and " so-and-so " 
 
 (Whose names we mention not) : 
 Let 's all the news discuss, and tell 
 
 About the great Greek play ; 
 Let 's hope that it may flourish well ! 
 
 " No politics to-day ! "
 
 A REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 Bolted — how strange in these liberal days it is ! 
 
 Barr'd — and I find myself left in the lurch ! 
 I, who desire (to my manifest praise it is) 
 
 Merely to enter the 'Varsity Church. 
 "Where is the man who 's responsible for it ? he 
 Makes a nice hash of the Dual Authority ! 
 
 I have a right, not much less than his own, I 
 think, 
 
 Windows, and pulpit, and pillar to scan. 
 Is it the Vicar though ? He not alone, I think. 
 
 Stands in the way of the 'Varsity man. 
 Whisper it softly, the fact of the matter is — 
 He has the aid of proctorial batteries ! 
 
 Dear Mr. Vicar ! Revered Mr. Ffoulkes, if you 
 Only could know how we long to get in ! 
 
 We would consider it one of your jokes, if you 
 Open'd the portals, — and call'd it a sin.
 
 42 FRONDES A CAD EM I. 
 
 (Week-day church-going, in sense parenthetical, 
 Doubtless in your eyes is more than heretical!) 
 
 Mr. Vice- Chancellor, Proctors, and other men, 
 Blind devotees of the fetter and bar ! 
 
 Thus to exclude your less eminent brother-men 
 Surely is carrying matters too far. 
 
 Though for the Golf-ground ye cherish a prefer- 
 ence, 
 
 Hath not Newmania claims on your deference? 
 
 So ye deny us ? O bloated plutocracy ! 
 
 Foster your folly as long as ye may. 
 Not very long shall an anger'd democracy 
 
 Bear the stiff yoke of your infamous sway. 
 Soon a loud laugh shall enliven the fall of you : 
 Vicar, Vice-Chancellor, Proctors, and all of you !
 
 VANITAS VANITATUM. 
 
 Echoes from a College Library. 
 
 Voces. Stranger ! let the world alone ; 
 
 Have you heart to leave us ? 
 Some will stay, when you are gone, 
 
 Still to gall and grieve us ; 
 Dust, and her neglectful breed : 
 Dog's-ear, sooth were better meed: 
 
 Stranger ! Friend ! relieve us ! 
 
 Juvenis. Spirits siren-throated, 
 
 How ye counsel ruth ! 
 Here, in castle moated. 
 Life would pine, and Youth. 
 I must rather, by the trial 
 Of determined self-denial. 
 
 Scale the steep of Truth :
 
 44 FRONDES AC A DEM I. 
 
 Antiquated treasure 
 
 And forgotten lore 
 In my hours of leisure 
 I will ponder o'er ; 
 Then our aims shall be united 
 Till the eyes of men have sighted 
 Lands unknown before. 
 
 Therefore, no delaying, 
 For I must be gone ; 
 "Hasten," she is saying 
 Whom I dote upon ; 
 Hearts of men attract the motion 
 Of all feminine devotion, — 
 
 Hearts, — and ye have none ! 
 
 Nay, I dare not linger 
 
 Longer, for I see 
 Plain the beckoning finger 
 Of the Time to be ; 
 Yea, the World, while ye grow older. 
 And in dust and darkness moulder, 
 feels the need of me!
 
 VANITAS VANITATUM. 45 
 
 Voces. Friend, from some unfathom'd well 
 Strange conceits you borrow : 
 
 We, alas ! can truly tell 
 
 You but dredge for sorrow : 
 
 Leave the World, for Learning's sake ; 
 
 Dreaming else, you must awake 
 To a mirthless morrow ! 
 
 For, indeed, your words are vain, 
 
 Your ideas erratic ; 
 Muddle-tongue and scatter-brain. 
 
 Dullard, dolt, fanatic ! 
 Shun ambition, love abjure. 
 Take instead (reward is sure) 
 
 Book lore in an attic ! 
 
 Juvems. That were consolation 
 
 For the world, goodwot ! 
 
 Hope is life's salvation ; 
 
 Tell me, is it not ? 
 
 Is not then your weary yearning 
 
 For this sacrificial learning 
 
 But a selfish plot ?
 
 46 FRONDES ACAD EMI. 
 
 Voces. Go your way ! too well we know 
 
 Youth can never alter. 
 Wait awhile, till hope die low, 
 
 Beauty fade and falter ; 
 Till your precious love, indeed, 
 And enthusiasm, lead 
 
 To the grave, or halter ! 
 
 Juvenis. Now I know your meaning. 
 None could ever move 
 Thoughts so overweening 
 From their narrow groove : 
 Cease your conversation rabid. 
 Tell me, spirits sour and crabbed, 
 " Were ye crost in Love ? " 
 
 TACENT voces : EXPLICIT DIALOGUS.
 
 CHANGE! 
 
 " IVednesday, March gth. Election of Proctors." 
 
 Not yet, though Time is flying, blossoms the 
 
 vernal larch ; 
 We stand indeed, wind-cross'd, between the Nones 
 
 and Ides of March ; 
 Nought stable is, nought steadfast, nought keeps 
 
 an even way, 
 (For boats that have not yet been bump'd may 
 
 meet their fate to-day). 
 
 And all is changing with the tides, and Term is 
 passing on 
 
 Into that past, whither, alas, anterior Terms are 
 gone; 
 
 Lies half in light, and half in shade, yon presi- 
 dential chair, 
 
 As on the breeze is borne the breath of some 
 election-scare ;
 
 48 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 Whilst some discuss, and some propose, and 
 Heads of Houses scheme, 
 
 All men's discomfiture but theirs, the crude con- 
 genial theme. 
 
 Our fashions change ; our hobbies change ; our 
 habits change ; and so, 
 
 Like habits, hobbies, fashions, too, our Proctors 
 come and go ! 
 
 So let them meet at B.N.C., and meet in Hert- 
 ford Hall, 
 
 And let them hand to every man the ballot-box 
 and ball ; 
 
 Choose duly one from each to wear the well- 
 worn rabbit-skin. 
 
 Then gaily ring the old year out, and ring the 
 new year in ! 
 
 Ring out the old ! a truce for both, to bench, 
 
 and court, and street, 
 To all the troubles and the joys that they have 
 
 had to meet ;
 
 CHANGE ! 49 
 
 May they achieve the right reward of past 
 
 proctorial pain, 
 And Laud and Durham watch above the spirits 
 
 of the twain ! ^ 
 
 Ring in the new, and wish for them good luck 
 and many fees ; 
 
 May they work hard, as Proctors should, and 
 scorn the way of ease ; 
 
 And if they know not how to treat our incon- 
 siderate youth. 
 
 May they consult without delay the Editor of 
 Tr7ith ! 
 
 "■ The outgoing Proctors were members of St. John's and University 
 Colleges respectively.
 
 THE SONG OF A PASSIONATE 
 PILGRIM. 
 
 ["Co-operative parties to Rome and Chicago Any who wish 
 
 for further particulars should write to Hartlebury Castle, Kidder- 
 minster." — Advertisement in the Oxford Magazine.] 
 
 O THE glory and the beauty of prolific concen- 
 tration ! 
 (Please to listen just a moment while I sing-) ; 
 O the swiftly coming seasons of vehicular elation ! 
 (I can see them, I can hear them on the wing) ; 
 Happy days when every nation, by complete co- 
 operation, 
 Shall be occupied in constant travelling ! 
 
 Not the wearisome itinerance of modest little 
 batches, 
 Though they 're good enough of course to work 
 upon ; 
 
 Not your Bishop's pious party, with an instru- 
 ment that matches
 
 A PASSIONATE PTLGRTM. 51 
 
 Very well the broom of Mrs. Partington ; 
 Nor a scheme that may-be catches here a man, 
 or boldly snatches 
 From his happy home some ill-condition'd 
 don; 
 
 But an unrestricted project of dimensions all- 
 embracing, 
 With authority that no one shall gainsay. 
 And a variegated map of many acres, interlacing 
 All the land that lies 'twixt Oxford and 
 Cathay ; 
 With a Board to mark the pacing, and to regu- 
 late the racing 
 Every year upon an instituted day. 
 
 Then the French shall go in thousands for to 
 
 hear some man of learning 
 Read on over-population at Pekin ; 
 They will wander helter-skelter through Bess- 
 
 araby, returning
 
 52 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 In due time by way of Paris to Berlin ; 
 For with love of knowledge burning, all the 
 world will be discerning 
 That the Government of Sentiment is in. 
 
 And Londoners shall go to see the Irishmen 
 untying 
 All their legislative knots with Irish skill, 
 Whilst a horde from Honolulu will be feverishly 
 hieing 
 To the shrine of Mr. Cook at Ludgate Hill ; 
 Man with man for ever vying in the frequency 
 of flying ; 
 For the cost of transportation will be ml. 
 
 And if you would have a foretaste of our future 
 locomotion 
 (I think I hear the surging of the foam) ; 
 Of the days when all will travel with superlative 
 devotion
 
 A PASSIONATE PILGRIM. 53 
 
 And nobody will ever stay at home ; 
 Here 's a Cambridge scholar's notion : you shall 
 go across the ocean, 
 And 'tis Mr. Haweis waits for you in Rome! 
 
 Will he lecture on " Dead Dogma " ? you have 
 only got to buy a 
 Very reasonable ticket, and you'll see; 
 Or Mahaffy — in Chicago — " ^Adrjyaiojy noXirda " — 
 
 And it matters very little to the fee; 
 But it sets my heart afire, as the shadow 
 draweth nigher 
 Of the post-historic days that are to be ! 
 
 O the beauty and the glory of completed con- 
 centration ! 
 (I think I hear the rustle of a wing) ; 
 
 O the seasons fast approaching to their perfect 
 destination,
 
 54 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 And the added joy to life that they will bring, 
 In the days when every nation, every rank, £ind 
 race, and station, 
 Shall be occupied in constant travelling- !
 
 A BARGAIN WITH BROTHER 
 JONATHAN. 
 
 Have you heard of the plan of that wonderful 
 man 
 
 Brother J., whose proposals so far go ? 
 He has written to sue for the 'Varsity Crew, 
 
 Which he wants us to send to Chicago : 
 And I hear for a fact that his offer is back'd, 
 
 In a way that must flatter our vanity, 
 By an offer of gold that we can't but behold 
 
 With the vision of Common Humanity! 
 
 In addition he schemes for our eminent teams, 
 
 To display in the Land of the Dollar 
 The way that we come to get into a " scrum," 
 
 And our wonderful art when we "collar"; 
 And he thinks of all this for the ultimate bliss 
 
 Of the world, though the casual caviller 
 Says he offers us pelf for the sake of himself, 
 
 Not at all for the sake of the traveller.
 
 56 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 Shall we send them to see how they take a 
 degree 
 
 Where the nature of all things immense is ? 
 What a wonderful chance for our men to 
 advance 
 
 In the learning that comes by the senses ! 
 But we mustn't forget that a value is set 
 
 On the treasures that England can generate, 
 Nor allow BrotJier J, to take heroes away 
 
 Without some compensation at any rate ! 
 
 If we send for a time to that wonderful clime 
 
 What we scarcely can spare for a season, 
 Let us also despatch a promiscuous batch 
 Of the things that endanger our reason: 
 Let us send for awhile what is good and what's 
 vile 
 O'er the azure blue deep where the fishes 
 lie, 
 That our cousins may see in the Land of the 
 Free 
 That we manage such matters judiciously!
 
 A BARGAIN. 57 
 
 Then our music shall go : Dr. Parry shall show 
 
 That the same of most various styles is, 
 And we'll send them the row that we always 
 have now 
 
 Upon Sabbath-day eve in Saint Giles's ; 
 And to further our love so as clearly to prove 
 
 That our action by no means to hurt is 
 meant, 
 We will send the best part of Ruskinian art, 
 
 And our triumphs of vulgar advertisement ! 
 
 In addition we '11 send our most plain-spoken 
 friend — 
 In a word, Mr. R - b - ns - n S - - tt - r, — 
 But assuredly he must accompanied be 
 
 By an average specimen Tutor ; 
 So the Yankees shall find that the cap we 've 
 design'd 
 Will correctly the few and the many fit, 
 And will readily pay for the pleasures that 
 they 
 Have prepared for our absolute benefit !
 
 58 FRONDES ACADEMI. 
 
 Be it so ; there is not any charm in the plot 
 
 As it seems to the natural vision, 
 And it cannot be said that men mightn't be led 
 
 To regard it with scorn and derision ; 
 I will only observe that most easy to swerve 
 
 From one's way in the dark I have heard it is, 
 And that treatment of jest is undoubtedly best 
 
 For our eminent brother's absurdities !
 
 A QUESTION OF CRITICISM. 
 
 [Dedicated to the Edinburgh Bivicw: The Minor Poet; 
 and Mr. Andrew Lang.] 
 
 When the splendid fulminations of an undis- 
 cover'd sage 
 In an admirable rage 
 To illuminate the page 
 Of a sober periodical foregather'd to engage : 
 When his pantomimic thunder 
 
 Upon poets' heads was spent : 
 Was it most a thing of wonder 
 Or a matter for lament r 
 
 Like the snapping of a cracker when his innuen- 
 does sprang 
 On the tender-headed gang 
 With an unexpected bang, 
 And disturb'd the nervous system of delightful 
 Mr. Lang :
 
 6o FRONDES A CAD EM I. 
 
 Was there any mortal failing" 
 Out of kindness to reflect 
 
 That the poets are an ailing 
 And a persecuted sect ? 
 
 If philosophers arrange an Inquisition of the 
 Schools 
 Where their nicely temper'd tools 
 Are administer d by rules 
 Made expressly for themselves and only danger- 
 ous to fools : 
 And if then our keenest fencer 
 In his manner cold but kind 
 Tortures Mr. Herbert Spencer 
 For his treatment of the Mind : 
 
 Is there any living mortal with a particle of sense 
 
 Who 'd be urging in defence 
 
 That the subject is immense, 
 And that logic should be shallow, since the 
 human brain is dense ?
 
 A QUESTION OF CRITICISM. 6i 
 
 Would not rather such a creature 
 
 Take a possible delight 
 In the scene's most likely feature 
 
 Of the tortured showing fight r 
 
 But the poet must be treated in a very different 
 way : 
 He is not of common clay ! 
 Far apart from any fray 
 Let him weave the sentimental and the imitative 
 lay! 
 Yet one makes interrogation : 
 
 Need a critic talk so big 
 For the simple delectation 
 Of the literary prig r
 
 A SOLILOQUY. 
 
 AT CARFAX. 
 I. 
 
 What means this noise that fills the air, 
 
 This rude and ribald sound r 
 Does some uncouth Professor dare 
 To venture shyly from his lair 
 That he may strew Red Ruin where 
 The City holds its ground ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Nay, let them wreck St, iMary's spire, 
 
 And take of spite their fill ; 
 Set the Ashmolean on fire, 
 Or wreak their despicable ire 
 On the much decorated quire 
 Of Keble, if they will :
 
 A SOLILOQUY. 63 
 
 Let them pursue their festive larks, 
 
 Touch old Duke Humphrey up with sparks, 
 
 And then make havoc of the Parks, 
 
 Since they must pay the bill : 
 But oh ! by all things fair and free, 
 By all that is and is to be, 
 This Sacred City let us see 
 
 A City Sacred still ! 
 
 III. 
 
 If haply these so much despise 
 The Buildings of the Town, 
 That they have cast disdainful eyes 
 Upon this House that all should prize, 
 This Home of happy memories, 
 
 Longing to cast it down : 
 Their frequent debt recall to them, 
 The mirth and music of Commem., 
 And trust to Chivalry to stem 
 The actions of the Clown !
 
 64 FRONDES AC A DEMI. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But stay ! beside these falling gates 
 
 What smiling figure stands r 
 Is it the Mayor who contemplates 
 Joyful the Raising of the Rates, 
 Who would not stay the frowning Fates, 
 But with a jocund mien awaits 
 
 The work of ruthless hands ? 
 Sees the good soul, with thanks for it, 
 That not henceforth his friends will sit 
 And talk ; but soon, as ghosts, shall flit 
 Across the scene of civic wit 
 
 In aldermanic bands ? 
 Nay : for you hear him chuckle low ; 
 He lets his satisfaction grow, 
 And chortles horribly, as though 
 Some frightful and insidious foe 
 
 Were captured on his lands : 
 And hark ! His Worship cries, in bliss, 
 " We shoot as those who cannot miss ! 
 Full soon their pride will fail, I wis ! 
 Fine feathers make fine birds, and this 
 
 The City understands !
 
 A WELCOME TO OXFORD. 
 
 (COMMEM., 1893.) 
 
 Once more beneath battlements olden, 
 Once more beneath skies that are blue, 
 
 AVhere fairies weave tapestries golden 
 And carpets of emerald hue : 
 
 Where Youth is companion'd by Laughter, 
 Where Life is unburden'd of Care, 
 
 And tender love-echoes come after 
 The words of the fair ; 
 
 There comes to our mirth and its measure 
 No thought of the hours and their flight, 
 No method determines our pleasure, 
 
 We reckon no rules of delight : 
 The sun in the sky is above us, 
 His rays in our river lie clear. 
 So come, and make glad, if you love us, 
 The heart of the year ! 
 
 F
 
 66 FRONDES A CADE MI. 
 
 O welcome ! our fairies a table 
 
 Shall spread you at twilight and dawn, 
 
 Where the summer spreads amber and sable 
 In sunshine and shade on the lawn : 
 
 O welcome, to walk unreproved 
 
 Where life knows no fetter nor chain, 
 
 O welcome, thrice welcome, beloved, 
 And welcome again !
 
 VACATION SONGS.
 
 MOSEL-LIED. 
 
 (Brodenbach-an-der-Moiel, 1892.) 
 
 A SONG, a song! the day is fit for singing set 
 
 to laughter, 
 And be so strong the voice of it, Time must 
 
 come quavering after, 
 And be so true our notes upborne in melody 
 
 and measure 
 As to make new, for night or morn, the ancient 
 
 tale of pleasure ! 
 
 Who would not sing, so far away from business 
 
 and bluster r 
 Eke might a king join in the lay where these 
 
 vine-tendrils cluster. 
 Where hills sun-drest have touch'd with fire the 
 
 cold, the cross, the weary, 
 And scorch'd to rest man's dull desire for psalm 
 
 and Miserere !
 
 70 VACATION SONGS. 
 
 Who would not sing", when shines the sun on 
 
 ev'ry crag and boulder, 
 When bird on wing, though day be done, denies 
 
 the world is older, 
 When through the air from yonder blue some 
 
 message comes a-sighing 
 Of life more fair and pure and true, unending 
 
 and undying r 
 
 When on the bushes by the banks of this love- 
 laden river, 
 
 And thro' the rushes' serried ranks, the dancing 
 sunbeams quiver. 
 
 When the whole earth with healthy love of life 
 is heavy-laden, 
 
 Yet light with mirth to melt and move the heart 
 of youth and maiden ; 
 
 When friends anear and friends afar have gilded 
 
 life with kindness ; 
 When none need fear a blast of war to touch 
 
 the world with blindness ;
 
 MOSEL-LIED. 71 
 
 When reckoning the things that bless the fount 
 
 of ev'ry nation ; 
 Who would not sing for thankfulness their song 
 
 of exultation ? 
 
 O summer-land of song and wine, O land of all 
 
 things pleasant ! 
 O stream and strand that so combine the future 
 
 and the present ! 
 Let the thought drown of dreadful days that 
 
 might our loves dissever. 
 And echo down these tranquil ways the Song of 
 
 Peace for ever !
 
 BETTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 Betty, when the woods up-springing 
 Lose their silence and their shame, 
 
 When the cheery carol-singing 
 
 Choir hath set its anthems ringing 
 
 Echoes through this earthly frame ; 
 
 Betty hath my fond allegiance, 
 
 Heart, and soul, and mind, and aim. 
 
 II. 
 
 Betty, now that summer blazes, 
 Still my song and still my praise is : 
 
 Other pleasuring have I none ; 
 "When the dew-encircled daisies 
 
 Flash like diamonds in the sun. 
 Still, for my complete allegiance 
 
 Betty is the only one !
 
 BETTY. 73 
 
 III. 
 When the golden year is dying 
 
 And the autumn leaves do fall, 
 When the voice of some one sighing 
 " Time is flying— Time is flying " 
 
 Answers to the lover's call : 
 Betty hath my fond allegiance ; 
 
 Betty is the best of all ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 When the frozen runnels glitter, 
 And the crazy zephyrs litter 
 
 Crisped leaves o'er vale and hill ; 
 When the air is keen, and bitter 
 
 Blasts of wind are calling shrill ; 
 Still I hold my fond allegiance, 
 
 Only Betty rules me still ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Bring the holly and the roses, 
 
 Since she loves them well, and bring 
 All the wealth the year discloses, 
 Mellow Autumn's russet posies
 
 74 VACATION SONGS. 
 
 And the tend'rest buds of Spring 
 All to prove my proud allegiance, 
 All for Betty's pleasuring !
 
 IDLESSE. 
 
 I WANDER'd idly by the sea. 
 
 Thinking upon our island story, 
 With all the uncompleted glory 
 
 Of those who strove to keep her free 
 
 Till in the flush of English pride 
 
 That came upon me, through the roar 
 Of those strong waves that beat the shore, 
 
 I rose above myself, and cried : 
 
 ' Life of the sea, beyond control — 
 
 Whilst waves sweep onward to the main — 
 Of those that here and there again 
 
 Think with strong cords to bind her soul ;
 
 76 VACATION SONGS. 
 
 ' O bear me onward, from the small 
 And narrow compass of my pride, 
 And let me hear beyond the tide 
 
 Of earth and time that voiceful call, — 
 
 * The call that once they heard, who made 
 
 Their lives thenceforward more and more 
 Noble and earnest, till they bore 
 Honours that could not fail nor fade; 
 
 ' So hearing fearfully, may I 
 
 Rise not less readily than they 
 To meet the new uncertain day 
 
 As those who love to live or die. 
 
 * Enough ; what I have said, O sea. 
 
 Is but the humming of a shell ; 
 Much unto those that love me well, 
 An empty murmur unto thee.'
 
 TO F. C. M. 
 
 (With a volume of Charles Kingsley's " Scientific Essays.") 
 
 Here is a book for a serious child ! 
 
 Here is a treatise for erudite men ! 
 Diction that's elegant, learning that's mild, 
 
 Make their cause common, and give you good 
 den ; 
 " Happy returns ! " is the message they bring, 
 " May your young life be perpetual Spring!" 
 
 Now you shall study the crust of the Earth, 
 
 Zoolite, oolite, coral, and lime, 
 Fathom the secret and marvel of birth, 
 
 Painfully tracing the up-trend of Time ; 
 Then in square cap, and with hosen of blue, 
 Boldly appear to our mystified view !
 
 78 VACATION SONGS. 
 
 Thus with m)^ wishes, fraternal and kind, 
 
 Give me to greet you, though late in the day ; 
 
 Act we as children, too soon shall we find 
 What is the ultimate end of our play ; 
 
 "What tho' Dame Science be frowning the while r 
 
 Life is still nought, but a tear and a smile!
 
 RHAPSODY. 
 
 (NEW STYLE.) 
 
 Here in the rays of the sun and the various 
 
 light of the flowers, 
 Reckon no longer for me the swift flight of the 
 
 petulant hours ; 
 Paint me no contrasts in shadow, of sunshine 
 
 and storm ; 
 Time in this place has no murderer's deeds to 
 
 perform. 
 Time is the slave of the songs of the birds, and the 
 
 birds make their songs thro' the showers. 
 
 Bring me a posy and garland wash'd sweet by 
 
 the rainfall at noon, 
 Teach me the meaning of scent, and of colour 
 
 that vanisheth soon ;
 
 So VACATION SONGS. 
 
 If so you will, you may show me the vaporous 
 
 nature of youth, 
 I am no craven, to turn me from death and the 
 
 truth, 
 Mine is a heart can retain all the glamour and 
 
 passion of June. 
 
 More, for the glamour and passion, their pain 
 
 and their pleasure are mine, 
 Mine they have been since I drank in the 
 
 sorrows of roses and wine, 
 Mine they remain though I fathom the laborous 
 
 deep. 
 Mortal, immortal, all secrets are mine, or to 
 
 give, or to keep : 
 All save the secret of sleep, and the secret of 
 
 sleep is divine.
 
 CELIA. 
 
 (A name in my Birthday Book.) 
 
 We met. How, where, and was it long ago ? 
 
 Have I forgotten ? May-be yes — and yet 
 Much though I misremember, still I know 
 We met. 
 
 Mine are the memories of days gone by; 
 I drink again with greedy lips the air 
 Of sweet Waldmeister and the Schnapps that I 
 Can't bear. 
 
 I hear again dear Mutter Mosel's flow 
 
 Under the Trauhen while the shadows fall ; 
 I hear the noise of many things, and "blow" 
 Them all ; 
 
 G
 
 8a VACATION SONGS. 
 
 For Celia's voice is not those sounds among, 
 
 No Celia comes to light my heavy load, 
 It is not Celia's form that goes along 
 The road ; 
 
 She is nor here nor there : only a name ! 
 All else, her face and fashion, I forget ; 
 But still my mind's whole burden is the same 
 "We met." 
 
 We met, we parted. Let the might-have-been 
 Some graven stone against that parting set, 
 Some little stone to keep its memory green, 
 Mark'd with these words, two sever'd lines 
 between, — 
 
 "We met."
 
 '0 SING again: 
 
 O SING again your spinning-song, 
 
 And let me turn the page, 
 For at your summons clear and strong 
 
 Comes back the golden age. 
 
 The blanched face of dreadful Death 
 Seems through the dark to smile, 
 
 And sleeping knights take back the breath 
 That they had lost awhile. 
 
 With bounteous fare the halls are stored, 
 
 And all the rafters ring. 
 When honour'd guests for bed and board 
 
 The splendid nobles bring.
 
 84 VACATION SONGS. 
 
 Here maids and matrons rise, and move 
 Through tangle-blossoming bovvers, 
 
 Who fashion in their narrow grove 
 A statelier life than ours. 
 
 But through the music of the throng 
 That treads my Fancy's stage, 
 
 I know it is your spinning-song 
 That brings the golden age.
 
 AT CLOSE OF DA Y.
 
 DUM SPIRO SPERO. 
 
 While yet the light which God once gave 
 
 Doth (but a little) linger, 
 And Time the measure of my grave 
 
 Takes with his lean forefinger ; 
 While in the tender rose-and-grey 
 
 The moments sink and shorten, 
 My youthful hopes are ta'en away 
 
 As hostages to Fortune. 
 
 For, I had thought, Life, at its best, 
 
 Thrill'd ev'ry living creature 
 With boundless hope and deathless zest 
 
 For the work and play of Nature : 
 I saw her pleasure in the task 
 
 Of making all things riper ; 
 I watch'd the dance : but did not ask, 
 
 " Wko is it pays the piper ? "
 
 88 AT CLOSE OF DA V. 
 
 But now, alas ! the truth is plain 
 
 (Since one has put the query) 
 That all the world makes mirth in vain 
 
 When all the world is weary ; 
 No profit is in music play'd, 
 
 In eyes' delighted glancing, 
 When ev'ry merry man and maid 
 
 Is tired to death of dancing. 
 
 Enough ; some hand upon the sky 
 
 The stars again hath shaken. 
 I '11 leave of Life the how-and-why, 
 
 And think I was mistaken. 
 But give me back, to-morrow morn, 
 
 The season fresh and vernal, 
 And grant my early faith, new-born. 
 
 To prove itself eternal !
 
 THE AULD SHEPHERD TO HIS DOG. 
 
 (After R. B.) 
 
 Aye, callant, while there's licht athwart 
 
 Yon gay expanse an' meadow, 
 Nae doot afflicts thy leesome heart, 
 
 Thy sonsie face nae shadow ; 
 Reck naethin' then, for fleetin' years 
 
 Oor friendship canna wither, 
 Sae lang we tread, wi' smiles, wi' tears, 
 
 The gang o' life thegither ! 
 
 It wasna thine, auld friend, to bask, 
 
 Lang syne i' ways sae sunny. 
 Yet still thou '11 welcome ilka task 
 
 Wi' looks baith brave and bonny ; 
 Sae true thou 's gi'en thine answering smile, 
 
 I 'd ca' thee amaist human, 
 Yet ne'er, as thou, sae free fra' guile 
 
 Was ony man, or woman !
 
 90 AT CLOSE OF DAY. 
 
 Thou wi' fause airts o' warldly pomp 
 
 Hast had nae kin' o' dealin', 
 For Nature's chiel maun frisk an' romp 
 
 Wi' friends o' fellow-feelin' ; 
 Sae thou an' I shall ance reca' 
 
 Beneath these skies o' azure, 
 Past times and seasons vanish'd a', 
 
 O' pride and proper pleasure ! 
 
 How wad we hail, of auld, the day, 
 
 An' revel in its glory, 
 But now my haffet-locks are grey 
 
 An' thine are amaist hoary ; 
 An' gin, my callant, I should last 
 
 These pleasant days o' simmer, 
 I dauna think the winter's blast 
 
 Wad spare my aged timmer ! 
 
 Weel, I maun gang, an' gang fu' sune ; 
 
 Sae wad I dee — fu' gaily ; 
 Life should be like that piper's tune 
 
 Wha skirls his quantum freely :
 
 THE AULD SHEPHERD TO HIS DOG. 91 
 
 To them wha rest o' cheerful min' 
 
 Guid hope o' peace is given ; 
 Nae groanin', moanin' son o' sin 
 
 Unbars the gate o' heaven ! 
 
 An' shall I leave thee, friend, to mourn 
 
 An' make a friend o' sorrow r 
 Nay : for thou '11 hae me to return 
 
 An' hopefu' wait the morrow : 
 I '11 ask nae wealth o' carven stanes, 
 
 Nae gravin', nae adornin', 
 Gin thou '11 be watchin' o'er my banes 
 
 Till ding o' doomsday mornin' !
 
 ANAPi}N ANAKTI. 
 
 We heard you speak ; we felt the thrill 
 
 That holds us all in bondage still 
 
 To you as chief of men to-day : 
 
 We heard and sigh'd, as who should say, 
 
 " Yet men are mortal, work and will ; " 
 
 Because we thought it vain to scan 
 
 The measure of the perfect man. 
 
 We heard you call the ancient days 
 To life ; and as you trod the ways 
 Of honour with a pace sedate. 
 Showing the throne where Wisdom sate 
 Surrounded by a golden haze ; 
 And when you clear'd the doubtful shame 
 That clouds an unforgotten name ; 
 And when you bade us reverence yet 
 The saying on our portals set 
 That we should keep it evermore ;
 
 ANAPilN ANAKTI. 93 
 
 We gave you thanks ; but still we bore 
 Within our hearts a secret fear 
 For all we honour and revere. 
 
 O it is well that we are bound 
 In bonds and trammels ; compass'd round 
 With bands that we shall never break ! 
 Else were we tempted much to make 
 Man and the shade of man's renown 
 Of perfect life our aim and crown ; 
 Aye, and at last deserve the rod 
 Of the all- righteous wrath of God.
 
 LUX IN TENEBRIS. 
 
 When the sun darts his rays upon the earth 
 Suddenly thro' the gloom of darkening days, 
 
 And one broad gleam of light betrays the girth 
 Of life we thought half-stifled in the haze : 
 
 Then, standing at the parting of those ways 
 That seem to lead unequal paths along. 
 
 Let us relax awhile our anxious gaze 
 
 And turn to meet the Future with a song. 
 
 11. 
 
 So let us climb to that far eminence 
 
 High from the world, where men have never 
 stood, 
 
 Far on a boundless sea beholding thence 
 Argosies burdened with all things good :
 
 LUX IN TENEBRIS. 95 
 
 And while their pennons glitter in the flood, 
 Their sails reflecting glory from the sky, 
 
 Let us re-echo in our hardihood 
 
 The burden of their distant harmony. 
 
 III. 
 
 '■^Fortune shall shozver her fiatlering honours down 
 Lavishly on uSy and the years in store 
 
 Give to Renown in hand^ till we the crown 
 Achieve that none have e'er achieved before ! " 
 
 O let the world despise their wisdom's lore ! 
 
 This honest laugh 's a more inspiring strain 
 Than theirs, who peeping thro' yon half-closed 
 door 
 Turn back with jeers to face their friends 
 again.
 
 IN ME MORI AM 
 
 EDWARD HAROLD BROWNE, D.D., 
 
 BISHOP OF WINCHESTER.' 
 
 Obiit i8gi. 
 (TO THE MOURNERS.) 
 
 O YOU that loved him, you that spread 
 
 For one so gentle and so brave 
 Comfort at eventide, and fed 
 
 Still with fresh oil the light he gave ; 
 Who lent his footsteps strength to tread 
 
 Gladly the pathway to the grave : 
 
 For you that mourn, for you that weep, 
 
 Here is the secret of his peace : 
 There is no death. O let the deep \ 
 
 Low murmur of your mourning cease, 
 And hear the song that through his sleep 
 
 Speaks of redemption and release : 
 
 • The Bishop of Winchester is Visitor of five Oxford Colleges : 
 New College, Magdalen, Corpus, Trinity, and St. John's. 
 
 I
 
 FN ME MORI AM. 97 
 
 " How blest the life of mortal man, 
 His death how far removed from tears, 
 
 When hopes, that shrinking Youth began 
 To consecrate with doubts and fears, 
 
 Rise up fulfiird, to light the span 
 Of all his children's coming years ! 
 
 "O dearly loved, to guide your view 
 Beyond this earth's uncertain line 
 
 Across the vast of old and new, 
 How clear above all laurels shine 
 
 Over the cypress and the yew 
 The fierce pure fires of life divine ! 
 
 "Beyond the pale of human ill, 
 
 How high beyond all blessing blest, 
 
 Who learn serenely to fulfil 
 
 God's merciful and high behest : 
 
 Far from the cries of wanton will 
 The silent peace of perfect rest ! " 
 
 H
 
 IN ME MORI AM 
 J. K. S. 
 
 (February, 1892.) 
 
 How chill the breath, how cold the long 
 lament — 
 " Promise new-born, new-shrouded in the 
 grave ; 
 In vain, in vain the midnight oil was spent ; 
 Too frail life's bark on time's storm-beaten 
 wave." 
 
 And we who wove for him the laurel crown, 
 A poet's garland, had forecast the time 
 
 When he should lay his jester's bauble down 
 And rise above the littleness of rhyme ; 
 
 " He should achieve," we said, " what they 
 achieve 
 Who lead the busy forum of the world, 
 
 I 
 
 J
 
 IJN MEMORIAM. 99 
 
 Teaching the thoughtless what they should 
 believe, 
 Bearing aloft the flag of truth, unfurl'd : " — 
 
 And then pale Death silenced the silvern tongue, 
 And now we mourn a spirit wayward, strong. 
 
 *^ Alas I " we cry, " Whom the gods love die 
 young : 
 Whom the gods love are not remember' d long!"
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 Lo, the strong sun in his celestial state 
 
 Hath wrapt this earth in wonderful array, 
 And the pale leaves, at sweet Saint Mary's gate 
 Flash back the glory of departing day : 
 Hope speaks to Hope the word, and seems f 
 
 to say 
 " Watch thou, and work, and pray ; it groweth 
 late." 
 
 ** It groweth late." The message comes to all 
 Borne on the pinions of the unknown air ; 
 
 Some heed, because their loss were others' gall. 
 And some ignore, whose counsel is despair ; 
 Then unto Love Love whispers: *'Wilt thou 
 dare 
 
 This bane and spoil r Beware ; the shadows 
 
 fall." 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 SUNSET. loi 
 
 The shadows fall ; and many, year by year, 
 
 Seek fame and fortune by the fading light ; 
 If they but count the cost, the way lies clear, 
 Patience and labour scale the furthest height : 
 "Keep well the goal," saith Life, "the bourne, 
 in sight, 
 Soon fall the shades of night ; and death is 
 near." 
 
 " It groweth late : " yonder, the sinking sun 
 Smiles on the porch he slowly crimsoneth 
 
 Before he sets ; and so the earth moves on 
 Silent and patient, to decay and death. 
 "And yet not all," cries Youth, "is waste 
 of breath ; 
 
 " Only too soon/^ he saith, " the day is done ! " 
 
 THE END.
 
 Printed by Alden & Co. Ltd., 
 BocARDO Press.
 
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