B51' > la A . s — ^ ^1 6 ? 5— i 8—1 7 ■cii. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SHEEN AND SHADE LYRICAL POEMS. BT WILLIAM BILLINCtTON. BLACKBURN : JOHN NEVILLE HAWORTH, TOWN HALL BUILDINGS. LONDON : HALL & VIRTUE, PATERNOSTER ROW, 1861. ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL. ULACKBURN : PRINTKD BY JOHN . XKVILLE IIAWORTII, TOWN HALL UUILDINGS. DEDICATION. ^j 5 ,, cheeks J» cheek. 14 >j 21 „ May'st )> Mayst. 24 )? 16 , on- yy in. 29 i> 5 , An jj A 43 )) 10 , request J> behest. 68 j» 2 , mountain ?) fountain 73 )i 7 , would ?» did. 74 )) 13 , When 7f With. 78 )> 10 „ minds J) mind's 80 >» 11 , tears >> tear. 83 9» 18 , of ?» to. 83 )> 23 , it )J its. 85 51 5 , are )) be. 103 )) 22 , of ii and. 146 )> 12 , a )J an THE TRmiTY OF LIFE. PROEM. What is Death — Sm's son and hek ? Time, his kinsman, must declare ! What is Life ? A Trinity— Taith, and Hope, and Charity ; Wanting these, Life nothing were But Death — Doubt, Selfhood, and Despak ! Love to Life its lustre gives ; Hope makes Death's dark visage shine ; The fire of both in Faith's heart lives, And makes her mission thrice di\'ine ! EiN& OUT, my humble harp ! Exalt Faith, Hope, and Charity, Who o'er the gloomy Gulf of Death Have buUt a bridge for me. As deepest draughts of sorrow prove The source of sweetest song, So darkest shades of doubt may serve To make our faith more strong. In early youth, Ambition bade Me range the Realm of Mind ; With Reason for my guide, I left Religion far behind. The lovely land of Liberty, Through which our journey lay, B THE TKINIIY OF LIFE. Inspired a. wish to war with all That stood in Freedom's way. We foiled full many Fallacies And routed mighty Wrongs, To Cant and Custom " gave the lie " As deep as to the lungs," Blew up the forts of Ignorance, Until at length we came To Controversy's citadel. Our birthright there to claim. That province of Opinion, "VMiich Concord ought to rule. Was governed by old Anarchy — A heterogeneous fool ! Its atmosphere — a murky haze, Through which all objects seemed Not what they were, but what men wished- With crude Chimeras teemed. To free the lordly Intellect From Superstition's sway. My soul, like some proud battle-steed. Stood panting for the fray. Dark clouds of Persecution broke In thimder o'er my head. And Hate's infernal lightnings flashed A fierce and fiery red. At creeds and codes, at priests and kings, My keenest curse I hurled ; With my unerring guide, I swore To face the frowning world. THE IKINIIY OF LIFE. ' « Then," softly said Self-interest, "Take Silence for thy friend ; " Biit Honesty exclaimed, " Speak out, " And Conscience will commend ! " Foreboding Prudence cried, " Go back ! " Brook not the fatal frown " Of Bigotry ! " But Valour led, Till Envy hissed me down. Then Slander came, with serpent slime, And smeared me o'er and o'er ; And Cowardice came forth to kick My face while on the floor ; And Insolence applauded him, Till Honor shouted, "Shame!" But Shame refused to show her face. Or answer to her name. Then Party-Zeal, and Enmity, Out thundered, " Victory ! " But from the dust my soul was raised By mild Humility. While foul Defeat was charging Chance With his untimely birth. Mild Mercy's heavenly countenance Outshone the eyes of Mirth : While Cruelty was cursing Luck, And Wrong upbraiding Right, Tired Strife with Peace a bargain struck, Made Malice roar for Spite ! I bade farewell to Vanity, But passionately pressed THE TBINITY OF LIFE, Sincerity and Duty to My overbui-dcned breast. Suspicion whispered in my ear, " Young Man, your guide is blind ! " I looked, and lo ! he had one eye, But that was placed hehind ! And, like Experience, he saw, Not Cause, but Consequence — Less fit to lead the heavenly Soul Than serve the earthly Sense. Remorse held up dark Sorrow's Cup, And bade me deeply quafF, When Scorn, with Pride close by his side, Set up a sneering laugh. Despair brought me a rusty sword. And smiling, said, " Be brave ! " Take leave of Life — there's nought but Fear " Between thee and the Grave ! " As years increase, Joy's fountains cease " To flow ! Whate'er fools deem, " Yon Eden-robe which wraps the globe " Is but Youth's golden dream ! " Why in the House of Discontent " Wilt thou remain a guest, " And press the burning Bed of Pain, " When here thou might' st meet Rest ?" Down to the wormy Vault of Death I would have gone with Gladness, Rather than meet a fiend I saw. And feared — his name was Madness ! THE IKINITY OP LIFE. A band of ruflSans seized me then ; I knew not what to do, For each one cried, " I am thy guide ! " And looked Hke Reason too. like some tall ship, which Tempest hath Dismasted and unhelmed, My fainting soul by fighting Facts Was blinded and o'erwhelmed : As if the sea of Night should burst The golden banks of Day, Truth's sun went out, yet Thought's blind world Went darkling on its way ; The Earth grew dark as Erebus, And Heaven, without its God, Seemed but an Eidolon of Earth — Wild Fancy's weird abode ! While through the dusty Realm of Doubt My spirit-robes were trailed. The Muse held up the Lamp of Love, But Reason's rushlight failed. To Faery halls of Poesy For succour soon I fled. And crossed her burning threshold, by Three unseen Angels led ; And there a-swoon, till Wonder's moon Had waned, and WiU seemed dead. In the arms of Awe I lay, nor saw. Nor heard, till o'er my head Shone a crown as bright as the arrowy light That wreathes the ebon brow THE TRINITY OF LIFE. Of that Phantom-Queen of Shade and Sheen, Called Night by men below ! Ifelt that Faith was with me, though I might not see her face. Nor look upon those lineaments Of more than mortal grace. Anon, her sister Hope exclaimed, " Sweet Spirit, fear no ill ! " I groped — and grasped the Hand of God — And both were with me still. Then came their kinsmate Charity, That Angel of the Earth, And touched my heart, and all grew bright — The World bloomed as at birth ! And when my soul waxed strong and whole. My harp rang out this theme— " This Eden-robe that girds the globe " Is not a glittering dream ! " Faith said, " We Three have rescued thee " From that ferocious band " Of Phantoms bold and Thoughts death-cold " That revel in Doubt's dark land ; " And placed thee here in Beauty's Sphere, " Where Love and Light preside, " To prosper long in the Land of Song, " And make the Muse thy bride ! " Here diamond seas and golden sands, " Star-flowers on emerald sod, " And sapphire sky, simned by His Eye, " Glow redolent of God! AN HOUR WITH NATUBE AND AVITH NIGHT. " Let earthly Wisdom worship at " Religion's heavenly shrine, " Let men see darkness in their souls, " And God's light there shall shine ! " 'Tis thus Faith, Hope, and Charity, Through Passion's blinding haze. From Folly's fane have led me forth To walk in^Wisdom's ways. Then let my lays be loud in praise Of Life's blest Trinity, For pointing out the light-paved path Of Paradise to me ! Let those bright Three for ever be The burden of my rhyme. Until the fatal Sisters sing The funeral ode of Time ! AI HOTIB, WITH lATTIRE AND WITH IIG-HT. I STOOD upon a steep cloud-haunted hiU, When clear and cloudless was the evening sky ; As bliss fills Heaven, did sacred silence fill The wide -womb' d welkin; universal space Throbbed with o'erfulness of the Deity ; 8 AN HOUR WITH NATURE AND WITH NIGHT. The circumspheral Air, which doth embrace The World, was hushed in worship mute and still ; Like spirit-beacons, star by star, apace The constellations kindled — Earth did lie In glory-trance beneath the Sun-god's eye, Whose ardent love-gaze grew more mild and dim. As though a flood of jealous tears did swim Down his bright cheeks, at leaving her green breast To Night's embrace, while he unmated sank to rest. A range of giant hills enringed me round, Like statues round a monument, that keep Untiring watch while Time sweeps past age-crown'd. And, bowed in homage, ever watch and weep ; As Ocean to the Moon, my heart did leap With tidal impulse surging up to Heaven : \felt his spirit-home is in the deep Dim starry distance, maugre man's earth-leaven. 'Neath burning, cloud-built battlements, which flanked Earth's utmost boundary like a wall of fire, With golden towers and lightning-bastions pranked, And castles kinged with many a flaming spire. Through rosy light old Ocean's visage shone, Like Lucifer's bright brow, when flushed with reddening dawn. And when the Sea had rocked the Sun to rest, And Earth, in dew, poured forth her farewell tears, The queenly Moon arose, crowned with a crest Of white and wavy flame ; from east to west, THE AVORLD OF DKEAMS. 9 The darkened heavens were flushed with flaming spheres, As dewdrops numberless ! And God, the God Of earth, is God of all those dark and bright Unfathomable deeps, where wildest flight Of human fancy fails ! This mundane clod — Man's temporal home — how infinitely small Compared with Night whom world-starred robes invest ! Nor would our little Solar System's fall Ere dim the lustre of his crown of light, For Night is God's own Bard — Oh ! how I envy Night ! THE WOELD OE DREAMS. The world of dreams is strange, and I, a dreamer, A strange and dreamy story now relate ; Yet marvel not, though fitful as the streamer That dances round the pole, the nimble gait Of Faery Fancy seem ; — what, though she prate In numbers idle as the babbling brook, There may be music in them to create A spirit-charm, whose mystery may look Like that sweet voice which sings in Echo's hollow nook. 10 THE WORLD Oi' DKEAMS. Wliat though the Muse's wildly-chiming numbers May only seem faint echoes of a heart Possessed by silent thousands, where Thought slumbers, And wants but winged language to impart Life to her hopes — nm-sed by the tuneful Art To live for ages in the Land of Song — Yet, lightning-like, perchance her glance may dart A gleam of light amid the mute-souled throng, To those whose feelings far transcend their feeble tongue. What though her words, like love-looks launched by ladies, May work sweet woe — she seeks to cure, not kill ; What though fantastic as the foam-crowned eddies That reel and dance adown the dashing- rill On some green mountain's breast — fair Fancy will Yield homage to the throne of Intellect, He that hath ears to hear may listen till In numbers strange, perchance, he may detect The language of the gods, however imperfect. A Thought— a Sound — a Tear— a Dream — a Vision Is deified when Fancy deigns to speak ; A wandering Thought, bound on a heavenly mission. Knocked at the windows of my Soul at break Of Reason's day, before one gloomy streak Of worldly wisdom tinged with sombre hue Life's cloudless welkin, where Truth's lofty peak Rose like a crystal pyramid to view. Amid the groves of Happiness where Hope and Virtue grew — THE AVORLD OF DREAMS. 11 For Hope and Virtue are the fairest flowers That bloom in meadows of the infant mind, Where Innocence sits in Love's hallowed bowers With puerile Reason, whom the world deems bUud ; And, with her alabaster cheeks reclined Upon his breast, despises Fear and Guile ; By Youth protected from the withering wind Of prudent Forethought, and the snaky coil Of Care, whose blue scales sparkling gleam through Manhood's smile. This messenger from Paradise did enter The presence-chamber of my soul, to tell Why forth she fared upon this wild adventure Through regions where Queen Phantasy doth dwell — That dim and dreamy land of Charm and Spell, On all sides bounded by the mighty main Of pure Imagination, where the swell Of spirit-winds helps Fancy's bark to gain The port of fabled Truth, which Fact pants for in vain. She bade me search the abyss of my spirit. Exclaiming, " There fit symbols do abound " For all the hopes and fears that men inherit ; " Sensations born of Feeling, Sight, or Sound " Lie on the surface — from the Soul's profound "Abysmal deeps still deeper truth up-gleams — " Truth which, by Fiction robed and Fancy crowned, " With Bards alone hath birth in fable-themes, " For soul-truths ever travel in the Land of Dreams." 12 THE WOEIiD or DREAMS. With that she ceased. As when a falling star Sinks in the hollow bosom of the Night, Gleaming through gulfs of gloom — men mark afar Its flaming passage by a line of light Left in the wake, while it eludes their sight. And Fancy follows it through worlds of wonder — So fled that Angel, and the glory bright Of her pure presence, lightning-like, asunder Clove Mystery's cloud-realm, whence leapt Truth's living thunder ! No poet's pen, though dipped in flame, what then Was heard and seen may seek to fitly phrase ; A golden pier was thronged with soids of men — The great, the wise and good of former days, And bards crowned with God's glory, as with bays, To burning beacons beckoned, scroll in hand. To light the lonely mariner, who strays O'er Life's rude billows, towards that lovely land Where Genius sits enthroned o'erlookin? Time's dull strand. "O Futurity forewent her wonted pride — Unveiled her beauty-beaming face, which shone On the gray Past, who claimed her for his bride. Albeit his daughter — kissing her, anon Their melting features mingled into one Familiar face^ — the Present, who gan preach, " Mortal ! be bold ! this is Fame's fort — press on ! " Shake hands with those Eternals, all and each, " Then plant another beacon-light on Time's broad beach !" THE WORLD OF DKEAMS. 13 Since then, within the Palace of my Soul Hath dwelt a Thought which ivill not be expressed, But, queen-like, o'er my heart usurps control. And, like a patient hen-bird on her nest. Sits hatching Hopes in brilliant plumage dressed, Whose blinding lustre blots the world from sight ; And " Ah ! " she singeth, " wherefore wilt thou rest, " Since Heaven through me commandeth thee to write, " And leave the sons of Toil a legacy of light ?" I dare no longer disobey that voice "Which through my spii'it thrilleth, as if God Had uttered every accent, robbing Choice Of crown and kingdom ; — henceforth will I plod With Poesy through tracts as yet untrod. By soul-dream haunted groves of deathless bloom ; A garland I may gather on the road. Or twine a wreath of laurels roimd my tomb, Whose leaves, perchance, shall fade not till the day of doom. I'll set aside the sophistry of sages. Led on by Faith to fight in Freedom's van ; I'll war with the philosophy of ages When it wars with the spirit-growth of man ; Though bravery abridge life's brittle span, I'll woo, and win, and wed the maiden Truth ! A world of wealth with me would weigh less than The single thought that I had staked my youth To snatch her lovely limbs from Time's corrosive tooth. 14 THE WOKLD OF DEEAMS. Though none may hope to "rein the rearing world," Where millions worship at fell Mammon's shrine — Where clouds of incense, round his altar curled, And blazing pomp in bright refulgence shine, Proclaiming him a deity divine Throned in the Age's heart ; — that Judas-creed I will oppose, nor yet dejected pine, Though Resolution's iron heart should bleed To witness giant Effort bring forth dwarfish Deed. I will put on Love's adamantine armour, Baptize my infant Muse in martyrs' blood, Nor dine with Pleasure, lest that dainty charmer Mix sloth, like poison, with my spu'it's food ; But stem the stream of Falsehood's fatal flood. Though waves of Error work me worldly scath ; Cut Virtue's way through Vice's tangled wood. While Hope, whose light my inspiration hath Been, holds her angel-lamp to pioneer my path. Thou, who hast never looked beyond the cold Dull realm of Matter and Utility, May'st rail, if rail thou wilt, yet miist be told, Like flame in flint. Truth dwells in Mystery ! And dreams are fraught with a philosophy Which, to the waking sense, is never shown Except through symbols by sweet Poesy, Who in the Land of Dreams hath built her throne, Wliere she, like God in Heaven, reigns peerless and alone ! POESY. 1 5 POESY. As the bud is to the bee, Or the blossom to the tree, As the summer to the woods. Or the fountain to the floods. Or as Heaven is to the soul. Its beginning, guide and goal. So is Poesy to my heart's Passion-Story ! Though a star-inwoven vest Veils the beauty of her breast. Where Love's burning Heart is set In Thought's brightest jewels, yet, Like a Palace of sweet Dreams, Her unshrouded forehead beams Love and beauty, truth and grandeur, grace and glory. As a flower that is kissed Into blushes by the mist Of the morning, while the streams Of Apollo's golden beams. That are struggling and would nest In its dewdrop-jewell'd breast. Cannot enter for the close-enveiling vapour, 16 POESY. So the Heaven within her eye — Haloed by a spirit-sky, Formed by Purity and Youth, Joy and Sorrow, Love and Truth, Which her golden guard compose — As an altar-flame aye glows, At which Hope in vain attempts to light his taper. As the wind does with the cloud. Or as Custom with the crowd, As the King does with the court, Or as Death with life doth sport, As yon sovereign orb the Sun Rules the rest which round him run, Dispensing warmth and lustre, life and motion, So her beauty o'er my soul Hath a limitless control ; And her image from my heart Never — never can depart, But will burn and brighten there 'Neath the billows of Despair, Like a pearl within the purple heart of Ocean. Though I woo her for my wife. To be dowered with my life. Yet when Hope, o'ercoming Fear, Leads the lovely Vision near — When the Glory I would clasp, Fate flings Ruin in my grasp, And Death bids me lean on his scythe and slumber ! POESY. 17 Yet Death, perchance, but seems. And his slumbers may be dreams ; When the spirit, freed from clay, Through Eternity shall stray, Then the passions that on earth In his bosom sprang to birth May increase his pangs beyond the sea-sands' number. Then let me live, nor sleep, But a life-long vigQ keep. Nor ever turn mine eyes From that blooming Paradise, Which in Pleasvire's lap was lost. Till the burning marl be crossed Of Toil and Woe, whereby Hope may regain it ! And if the God that made me With approving smile will aid me, All the seasons as they roll Shall add vigour to my soid, And the close of every year See the gleaming goal more near — Fame's pinion cannot fail if Faith sustain it ! 18 THE VOICE OF srHiNG. THE YOICE OE SPEIN&. " I COME," said the voice of the Spring, " To banish the frost and the snow. To dethrone hoary Winter, the king Of cold nights and dull days — let him go ! Let him flee to the ice-belted pole, And there with his consort, the Bear, Let him dally till Summer's bright soul Quits the corpse of the bloom-faded Year. " I come to shed light o'er the land, To blossom the bush and the tree. To make human spirits expand, And hearts leap like waves in the sea ! To fling a green garb o'er the earth And awaken the voice of the woods, To call countless beings to birth In the live air and Ufe-teeming floods. " I come to make winds from their wings Shed the blessings of health where they blow, To give tongues to inanimate things. To make rivers sing psalms as they flow. To quicken the heart-beats of Love, To brighten the rainbow of Hope, And to smile into joy all that move \ Under Heaven's bright bliss -brooding cope. THE VOICE OF SPRING. 19 " First, the Primrose, with petals moon-pale, Peeping forth from the moss-mantled bank, Shall, in spite of the wind, rain, and hail, Spread her star of green leaves, rich and rank ; While the Daisy, blithe archer, upstarts Like young Cupid or bold Robin Hood, With his sun-quiver dialled with darts That are stained with Queen Flora's heart's blood. "While the Snowdrop looks up from the sod On the brink of some wood-darkened dell. Like a penitent praying to God As he hangs o'er the abyss of Hell, The Daffodil proudly shall wave His flag in some rude rocky hold Whose base sUver streamlets aye lave Whence he drinks with his goblet of gold. " The Violet, modest and meek, In the leaf-shrouded coppice will lie. With a beautiful bloom on her cheek Only rivalled by Heaven's blue eye, Forming fancies to madden the Muse In the mind of some lord of the lyre Who will swear that she won her bright hues Whence the Titan of old filched his fire. " The Woodbine shall wind through the grove. The Lily and Rose shall shake hands, Like Purity meeting with Love When at Hymen's chaste altar he stands ; 20 THE VOICE OF SPKING. The garden shall blossom and blush, And all hues of the rainbow unfold, Like clouds, through which sun-fountains gush, Flaming ruby, and pui-ple, and gold. " The life-blood that warms my green heart Shall embrace both the branches and roots In the orchard, where apple-trees start Into bright crimson buds and green shoots ; The birds shall be mated, and nest In the shade 'neath a dome of green leaves, Until Heaven's full blessing shall rest On the Earth, crowned with ripe harvest-sheaves. " Then Winter may come if he list, For I shall not meet Death in Time's tomb, But, while hill-tops with snow-clouds are kissed. Shall be dreaming of beauty and bloom ; And, in spite of the frost- winds that blow. And the ice that seals up Nature's womb, I will burst Winter's barriers of snow As a star cleaves Night's ocean of gloom ! " And in spite of the monarch Decay, Who reigns o'er the children of Time, Though I bow now and then to his sway, I shall bate not a jot of my prime ! I win fold her fair form to my breast, Kiss the bride my free spirit holds dear. Lead the Earth, in her Eden-robes di-est. To the altar of Love every year !" A WOODLAND WALK. 21 A WOODLAID WALK. I WANDERED forth to watch the Infant Day- Sow diamonds over plain and woodland copse ; The Sun, just glancing o'er the mountains gray. With slanting beams, illumed their grassy slopes ; , Though bright and buoyant as the golden hopes Of sanguine Youth in its serenest hour, My spirit bowed in homage to that Power Which caused the buds to burst — the birds to sing With melody, which made that woodland ring — Its echo -haunted caverns sweetly moan ! The speckled Lark, borne on sky-sweeping wing Above the clouds, his matin strains did pour ; The loud-tongued Throstle's half familiar tone Seemed fraught with secrets which the soul ere birth had known. The snowy locks of Winter, being smote By Spring's rose-wreathed wand, had disappeared, His feeble feet seemed sinking in the tomb. The icicles had fallen from his beard, The Primrose on the bank began to bloom. The Redbreast sang in the unblossomed broom, The Blackbird's deep and mellow-sounding note 22 ■ A WOODLAND WALK. Rang through the bosky dingle's hollow throat And, wave-like rijjpling, mocked the vocal stream, While overhanging trees did listening seem To catch those strains which down that stream did float ; The very rocks and knolls appeared to dream Of rapture ! the still air seemed full of thought ! And Heaven's blue bell above with God-smiles inter wrought. And " This is Nature ! this/" I loudly cried, " So often nicknamed Stepdame by the rude " And impious, who observe but her night-side — " Whose hare-eyed vision glimmers but one way, " Which doth the light of Deity exclude, " As bats and owls beneath the blaze of day " Grow blind in uncongenial light, so they " Find earth a ' Vale of Tears' — a solitude ! " Hence, their world-theories desolate and crude, " And blasphemous. When ' Man was made to mourn^ " Becomes the watchword, Feeedom sighs forlorn, " And Hope becomes an outcast, seldom viewed ; " Truth's flowers are trampled — and though Earth displayed " The pride of Eden's prime, Man's rose of bliss would fade ! " MAT-DAY MORN. 23 MAY-DAY MM. The morning sun was hid behind the mountains, A sea of light came surging up the skies, A purple pall of mist obscured the fountains. And brooks, and valleys ; — dipped in rainbow dyes, Aurora, slowly over hill and spire, Did traU her cloudy robes with sweeping flounce of fire. Like dainty fruit on the unblossomed boughs The sky-reflecting, crystal dew-globes hung. The wanton Winds sung mystic metres, whose Deep lore of love from di-eams of beauty sprung, AVhile May, led by the golden-winged Hours, From Paradise did come to crown the Earth with flowers. The cold Earth, kindled by her amorous kiss, Confessed her rapture in a blush of blooms. Her very insect tribes felt angels' bliss And walked the wind — Love lent them starry plumes. While bird and beast felt music-pulses play Within their breasts a tune — 'twas "Welcome lovely May !" 24 MAY-DAY MORN. Green buds burst through the willows' scaly rind, As stars peer through the curtains of the dark ; Sun-singed Snowdrops trembled in the wind, Like fainting birds of passage ; 'neath the bark. The oaks' sap-fountains flung their jets on high To flash out in green leaves, and screen them from the sky. The slumberous Mountains waved their load of trees. As if Hyperion, piercing through their dark And stony hearts, to action like the Seas Had roused his Titan-brothers, — you might mark A falcon from their midst soar to the sky. Like some swift herald sent Jove's thunder to defy ? The Sea looked up to Heaven above, and smiled, As angels smile, >A-ith calm and earnest grace, Though gently roused, or as a rosy child, Waked by her kiss, smiles on its mother's face ; The brooding Heaven seemed bending east and west. The green Earth to enfold, within her azure breast ! Such was the radiant dawn of that May-day, When, on the wood-crowned summit of a hill. The bard sate listening to the Skylark's lay. Whose melody the dome of heaven did fill, While Earth and Air and Ocean seemed to seek Joy-utterance from his Muse, who thus their thoughts would speak. TTIOU ART CO^rrNG, FRUITFUL SUMMER. 25 THOTJ AET COraO, rETJITPTTL SUMMER. Thou art coming fruitful Summer Down the starry steep of Time, And tlie vision makes my spirit Burst unbidden into rhyme ! Thou art coming, robed in splendour, Like a bridegroom to his bride. And the Earth, crowned with Spring-blossoms, Fain would smile thee to her side. Thou art coming, in thy brightness, Down the steep and starry slope Of the dim prophetic Future, By the golden gate of Hope She is watching to behold thee In thy ripe and ruddy charms. Skies are waiting to enfold thee In their world-embracing arms. As the mariner a-slumber, 'Mid the Ocean-billows' roar. Dreams of meeting with his true love On some dear and distant shore, 26 THOTJ AET COMING, rKITITFUI. SUMMEK. She has hungered for thy presence When her hills were hid in snow. And in dreams beheld thy glory "When bleak Boreas did blow ; She has borne the blasts of Winter, She has felt the frozen breath Of that King of Desolation — Hoary kinsman of dark Death ! But thou comest in thy brightness To embrace the Earth again, Like a sunburst on the meadows After days of drenching rain. Thou art peering through Spring-shadows, And thy chastened glory gleams Like the presence of the angels Through an infant's Eden-dreams, Like the sun of joy and gladness Through rich rain of happy tears, Or the memory of childhood Through the mantling mist of years. In the rosy flush of morning, Or the crimson glow of eve, Or the dimness of the twilight, When the yellow moth doth leave His leaf-palace in the thicket, And, on wings of moonlight' spread. Seeks his bride, turned to a field-flower, And flies circling round her bed THOU ART COMING, FRUITFUL SUMMER. 27 To unwind the witching charm- web Which had lured her from her nest, While he rings her with love-lustre — Folds her beauty to his breast, We shall feel thy radiant spirit Brooding o'er us like a dove, Full of mystery and glory, Full of beauty and of love ! For as Jove came down to Danae, To embrace the Earth again, Thou art coming down from Heaven In a shower of golden grain ; Thou wilt fill her cup of being With the fiery wine of life. She will walk the Heights of Rapture When thou takest her to wife. Like some bright embodied Splendour, Or the Spirit of the Noon Clad in leaf-enwoven kirtle, Crimson scarf, and " golden shoon," Thou wilt hold the sleeping Thunder In the hollow of thy hand, Whilst the lightning's fiery fountains Overflow at thy command ! Thou wilt raise the human spirit, Rouse and renovate the sod. Making Earth look more like Heaven, Making man more like his God, 28 KECOTXECTIONS OF CHILBHOOT). Shewing shadows of lost Eden When ihe dim-red moon doth rise, Flashing Heaven through rich sunsets On the bard's adoring eyes ! Thou art coming swathed in glory Down the starry steep of Time, And the pageant makes my spirit Burst unbidden into rhyme ; For I see thy sunbright sceptre. And thy sanguine-cintured zone, And thy crown of purple fruitage. And thy green and golden throne ! . EECOLLECTIO^S OF CHILDHOOD, SUGGESTED BY BEING PRESENTED WITH A HONETSUCKLE FROM MT BIRTHPLACE. Inhabitant of mine own native vale, Sweet-scented consort of the red wild-rose Which pours its perfume on the summer's gale, As thou dost upon every breeze that blows, When morning smiles, or when the day doth close In fiery grandeur flaming from the west, O ! how I long to drink the tide that flows Like nectar-streams through thy ambrosial breast, With feelings such as once my infant heai't possessed. EECOLI/ECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD. 29 "When in my father's cottage I did dwell, Ere seven summers since my birth had fled, Death's fatal summons broke the fairy spell That bound my heart, and o'er my youthful head An halo of enjoyment ever shed. Inspiring hopes of bliss through future years : Yes — laid a father sleeping with the dead, And turned those hopes and joys to sighs and tears. And taught how much an infant's heart imbroken bears. For in that cot, of which I mention made, The happiest hours of life's long day were spent ; The morning of existence there I played Away in ceaseless joy and merriment ; And still the scenes, which I then did frequent, Are truly mirrored in my memory's glass, Though Fortune's ruthless hand hath long since rent Me from their much-loved presence, and, alas ! Instilled the hopeless wish to be what then I was. To wander in the woods, as once I did. And listen to the music of the grove ; To view the towering pine, or pyramid Of rocks, glassed in the torrent, from above While heaven's blue to earth's deep centre drove Its bending arch, and on my wondering eye Flashed images of beauty — stars that move In harmony through ether's realms on high, Deep-tossing in the gulf of an inverted sky. 30 RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOB. My heart beat with a sense of love and beauty That dwelt in every sylvan sound I heard, The woodland walk I made my daily duty, And to all other pleasures, I preferred To list and learn the song of every bird Whose love-notes echoed from each flowery nook, TUl loud, hoarse bleatings of the lowing herd, Mixed with the bubbling music of the brook, Sang farewell to the day as Sol the west forsook. Then to the top of an adjacent hUl, To watch the setting sun, when clouds of splendour And fire-flushed light the western skies did fill. And upward streams of sunbeams bright did render Their skirts transparent, piercing them with slender Sharp shafts of gold and flame, whose tints did seem Than lovely Flora's cheeks more soft and tender — They faded like the drapery of a dream, When Ocean swallowed Phoebus and his fiery team. Then slowly down the steep hill's flowery side With cautious steps the winding ways I wended, To view the roses veil their blushing pride And hang their heads as evening's dew descended — Contract their petals, which had been extended From morn till eve, to sip the solar ray, Till, as dun Night her sable throne ascended, All bathed in tears upon the thorny spray, Seemed shrunk within themselves to mourn the absent day. BEAUTY. But scenes like these have vanished long ago And other objects entered in their room, My mirthful heart, a magazine of woe Hath now become. The beauty and the bloom Of boyhood now lie buried in the tomb Of Memory ; and, yet, I am but yomig ! My task is now to tend the labouring loom, And work the woof, yet needs must ply my tongue, Impelled by heart and head, and sorrow is my sonc ig- BEAUTY. Let us sing the praise of Beauty, For the earth is beautiful. And the stars are full of beauty As the skies of stars are full, A^ the Day treads out the Darkness, In the earth's diiurnal round, So the tame is trodden underfoot While Beauty's brow is bound : And still Life's river rushes on. And still the world goes round. And Homeliness still hides her head. And ever is Beauty crowned. 32 WHERE DOTH BEAUTY DWELL T The beautiful in action, And the beautiful in speech Tread Virtue's path to Glory's goal, For Beauty reigns in each. 'Tis thus the bard his garland gains, Thus heroes are renowned, For the beauties both of thought and deed To Virtue's praise redound : And still the stream of Time rolls by, And still the world goes round. And aye the Homely hides her head, And ever is Beauty crowned. WHEEE DOTH BEAUTY DWELL? Where, where doth Beauty dwell ? On the pure and polished brows Of maidenhood ; in cheeks where glQ,ws The rose of health ; in love-lights breaking From sweet eyes whence soul is speaking Language that the heart well knows ; In brave lives, by sorrow shaded. Breasting Fortune's stream unaided. Heedless of its ebbs and flows ; There doth royal Beauty dwell ! WHERE DOTH BEAUTY DWELL? 33 Where, O where doth Beauty dwell ? In the purple flush of morn ; Flashing out amid the corn, In harvest fields of God's own gilding ; In green boughs where birds a-building Nest beneath the blossomed thorn ; In the meadows filled with flowers ; By the woodland banks and bowers, Where the sylvan gods were born ; There doth rural Beauty dwell ! Where, O where doth Beauty dweU ? By the brooks where fishes lave, Bravely bright and brightly brave. Their lovely forms with lustre gleaming. Rainbow light through crystal streaming — Sight to make the poet rave ! Where they flash, and dart, and darkle. Whilst their scales of silver sparkle Lightning through the limpid wave. There doth living Beauty dwell ! Where, where doth Beauty dwell ? In the jewelled deeps of Night, Burning where the wildest flight Of human fancy yet hath soared not. Through skies fair Science hath explored not. Dim or golden, dark or bright ; Where the swift-winged Comets sweeping Trail their wakes of fire, unsleeping, Robed with wonder — terror — might — Crowned with awe doth Beauty dwell ! D 34 A DIRGE. Where, where doth Beauty dwell ? In the wild and lone retreats Where Solitude with Silence meets ; Regioned high amid the mountains, By the waterfalls and fountains, Where the heart of Nature beats ; On the bright blue tumbling Ocean, In the Sea of Life's commotion. Beauty hath ten thousand seats ! Everywhere doth beauty dwell ! A DIE&E. 'Tis midnight's stUl, mysterious noon ! Earth sleeps. The silver-mantled moon, With maiden aspect cold and clear, Looks down upon this dreamy sphere. Which my sad soul must flee from soon. Yon mystic lights which burn above. Emblems of imiversal love, And whether watch-fires or huge globes By distance wrapt in flaming robes. Like planets round sun-centres move, StiU are they lovely to behold As showers of heavenly fire and gold. Or, as may seem to Fancy's eye. The guardian Angels of the sky Darting quick flames down, keen but cold. A DIBGE. 35 And thou, pale Queen of night, who art The lover's load-star, wan and swart Enchantress, who dost fill thine horn With spirit-fires, yet canst not burn The ice of death out of my heart, I love thy dim and silvery reign, But here, alas ! must not remain. For at the windows of my soul The twilight ill-foreboding owl Hath flapped his wizard wings again. My life is withered ere it bloomed. My soul-fruit blasted, hopes entombed ; I feel my steadfast spirit shake. Like stony towers when an earthquake Gapes underneath. 'Tis God hath doomed. I feel that I am forced to quit This life. Relentless Fate hath writ The summons, and, though planets fall. Though earth should sink, he seeks his goal. And God, the changeless, sanctions it. And can the soul, whose thoughts aspire To Heaven, fail before the Sire Of Heaven, who ordained its birth. While yon pale planet bathes this earth With freezing floods of crystal fire ? 36 A DIRGE. Could earth remain for ever green, Be daily washed with solar sheen, And change its tenants year by year. Though but a dull and lifeless sphere, If man had not immortal been ? No ! that were to place Mind below Mere Matter, to make Spirit bow To Body. Oh ! Doubt is the rope That strangles Will. Yet will I hope To live as long as star-fires glow ! My bark but waits the rising gale. My boatswain, Hope, spreads every sail. Though poorly freighted, she may ride Serenely over Death's dark tide : Faith for her pilot, can she fail ? Lo ! thus equipped, she quits the strand Of this dull globe, bound for the land Of spirits, bearing one weak soul, A part that seeks its parent whole, A straggler from the Angel-band, A drop from Being's reservoir, A spark of Mind's immortal fire, A meteor from that spirit-world Which, cloud-like, round God's throne is curled, A child that fain would see its Sire. WILT THOU NOT WEEP FOR ME ? 37 WILT THOU lOT WEEP FOE ME? Companion of my early days, Bright angel of my heart, We've lived and loved through sheen and shade, Alas ! that we should part ! We've trod the daisied breast of June, And sat in cool retreat "Where roses bloomed above our heads. And violets at our feet ; We've heard the mellow cuckoo sing, The throstle clear and loud, And drank the breeze streamed through the trees, Like sunshine through the cloud ; We've felt the fiery pulse of love, And pictured o'er and o'er A happy home and years of bliss. Hearts trembling to the core ; We've had our youthful breasts overbrimmed With boundless joy and gladness, And keenly know how near akin Are ecstacy and madness ; We've seen the summer's sun go down, And yielded to the charms Of the dim mysterious twilight hour. Locked in each other's arms ; 38 WILT THOtJ NOT WEEP FOR MET We know that niglat comes after day, That Winter treads the track Of Summer ; days and years go round, But youth will not come back ; 'Tis brief as bright, soon snatched by Time, And Sorrow fills the cup Where Joy was wont to sparkle, and Experience drinks it up. In heart I am an infant yet, A child's affections too Are mine, though manhood sage hath set Its seal upon my brow. Though joys have fled as time hath sped. And death is drawing near. Yet memories of the golden Past Will gild the gloomy bier. Since Fortune's ruthless hand did rend Our youthful hearts in twain, And gold, the god of this wise world. Broke friendship's brittle chain, I've bowed to other beauties, love, « But, oh ! it could not be That toil, or time, or chance, or change, Could wean my heart from thee. I know thou art not happy, but I know thy pride too well To deem thou wouldst confess the fact. Though pained with pangs of hell ! For I am but of humble birth, And thou of high degree. WOULD I WERE NO MORE. 39 Then, oli ! how were it possible To grant thou couldst love me ? Since thou wert made a merchandise Down Fashion's stream to glide, Like the wreck of some proud vessel at The mercy of the tide, As I through Life's lone wilderness Have sighed and sought for thee. When I am cold and coffined, love, Wilt thou not weep for me ? WOULD I WEEE 10 MOEE! From worlds of bliss for ever cleft. To know no hope, to feel no fear, So sad and lonely, so bereft Of aU my doating heart held dear, For me there now is nothing left To cause a smUe, or claim a tear ; The cup of joy, once brimming o'er, Is broken ! Would I were no more ! The green moss withers on the wall. The trees their load of leaves have shed, The Earth wears Autumn's funeral pall. The fairest of the flowers are dead. 40 WOULD I WEEE NO MORE, The skies have lost their lustre, all The light of life has from me fled ; But Death, dark angel, shuns my door, would to Heaven I were no more ! Love sate on Ruin's broken sphere. And smiled above the boiling brink Of Passion ; troth was held more dear Than life ; from death I did not shrink ! But fate hath chained my spirit here To dust, vv^ith adamantine link ; My heart is calcined to the core ! would to Heaven I were no more ! Through Life's bleak Wilderness of Care With Sorrow hand in hand I go ; As Atlas once the world did bear. Have I not borne a world of woe. And wrestled long Avith dark Despair, And hugged the fiend I could not throw ? But now my spirit, faint and frore, Is weary ! Would I were no more ! APOSTROPHE TO HOPE. 41 APOSTROPHE TO HOPE. PtJEE Sun, which round my darkened orb of being Once poured a flood of sanctifying light, Whose sacred presence makes the soul far-seeing, Whose absence plunges in Despair's dark night The fainting spirit — Mildness robed in might — God-gazing Angel — Pilot of the soul, Whose course is Godward as the eagle's flight Is sunward ! When beneath thy sweet control My life-stream ran rejoicing in its bed. Thy light was like the Moon's mild glory shed Upon the midnight Ocean to console His dark xmrest. Bright Seraph, who canst soar Through Death-glooms swift as, ere the thunder's roar. Red lightning leaps the cloud-gidfs, wherefore fled Art thou to Heaven, thine origin and goal. As earth-imprisoned streams to parent oceans roll ? Wilt thou not, like the Summer, come again And hang bright blossoms on our Tree of Life ? Wilt thou not be our trusty boatswain when Our struggling bark shall breast the waves of strife ? Our helmsman, when Misfortime's tempest blows ? Our captain, when the Truth to battle goes ? When dark-browed Doubt shall raise his rusty knife To murder Faith, wilt thou not interpose 42 APOSTROPHE TO HOPE. Thy golden shield to ward the baneful blows ? When Pride would tread God's image in the mire, Will not thy falchion smite the Demon down, Lest Peace should perish, and a world of woes Wage war within the mind, till Hate and Ire, Like Lust and Havoc armed with steel and fire. By tyrants sent to waste some conquered town. Have banished Bliss, and reft Love's jewel from Life's crown? Lo ! from sad Sorrow's darkest, deepest glooms, Where pale Despondency sits throned and crowned, To thee I call, whose cheek for ever blooms Blushed with the hues of Heaven's primeval dawn. Whose beamy brow, by Love and Virtue bound, Rays forth the living light of Deity, Untinged by Time or Mutability, Belting the dusky Future with a zone Of burning splendour, gilding Fancy's plumes. Sweet Hope ! rain down that radiance which once shone Upon my path, now lustreless and lone. And in my heart, now loveless as the Tomb's, Then will I wrestle down the demon Fear. 'Tis done ! thy glory floods my Soul's dim sky. Thy dawn-light falls upon her death-dark sphere. Like sudden Summer on the Winter-withered Year ! THE angel's tomb. 43 THE A]^&EL'S TOMB. Oh ! Conscience will nevermore sleep, For Guilt's fatal thunders aye roll, And God, like a tempest, doth sweep O'er the infinite deeps of my soul. An Angel was sent me from Heaven, A child of the cherubic race, And strict was the soul -warning given To govern and guide it apace ; To feed it on perishless food Was bountiful Heaven's request ; But, alas ! dust and ashes, and blood Of black vipers, I gave to my guest. The child seemed to sicken and die. Yet I knew that it was not true death, For a living Dream lurked in its eye. Though void of pulsation and breath. I buried it imder the turf. In Memory's verdant domain. Which is washed by the flame-flowing surf Of Phantasy's ocean of Pain. 44 XHE angel's tomb. Twelve dissolute winters fled by, When I dreamed that this child of the skies From the hollow grave heaved a faint sigh Which drew tears from pale Pity's wan eyes. I arose in a sorrowing mood To revisit that narrow green tomb, On the margin of Memory's wood, By thought-ruins shrouded in gloom. But the bright sun of Virtue and Truth Had ceased to illumine that grove, And dim as the star of my youth Waxed the far-distant planet of Love. I had dug the live corpse from its grave, My soul from Remorse to have screened ; But I feared lest the food which I gave Should have changed Heaven's child to a fiend. Strange fear scared my soul from the spot, For Hope had forsaken me there. And, resigned to my desolate lot, I shook hands with the Giant Despair. But Conscience will nevermore sleep, For Guilt's iatal thunders aye roU, And God, like a tempest, doth sweep O'er the infinite deeps of my soul. THE COFFIN AND THE SHKOUD. 45 THE COrnif AID THE SHEOUD. Who hatli not seen an Eagle, plumed with fire, With wide-spread wings in sun-flushed evening cloud ? I watched one once : it changed into a lyre — A sepulchre— a coffin— and a shroud ! I read that hieroglyphic prophecy. Whose baleful burden makes Life gloomy-browed ; For since that hour weird Fancy's eye doth see, Where'er it turns, a coffin and a shroud ! My soul feels strong as Atlas to support A world of woes, and burns with ardour proud To war with Time for Fame's eternal fort. Yet trembles at a coffin and a shroud ! Love bends his radiant heaven above my head, Hope's gleaming rainbow spans Life's darkest cloud. The live Earth seems to pulse beneath my tread, And yet I fear a coffin and a shroud ! Rich pearls of sound rain on the listening Earth, The Lark pours forth his music-flood love-loud. The bright blue Heaven smiles sweetly as at birth, Still I behold a coffin and a shroud ! Though kingly Friendship round me draws a ring Of radiant souls, and worlds of bliss doth crowd In that bright circle, crowning me — the king. Heart-throned, still sees a coffin and a shroud ! 46 THE COFFIN AND IHE SHROtTD- When Love, man's inward light and outward leaven, Within my soul, where Sin and Sorrow ploughed Death-furrows, sows the living joys of Heaven, There stand the scare-crow coffin and the shroud ! O ! would these eyes had never seen the light ! Or would that the Almighty had endowed These human hands with supramortal might ! Grim Death should fill the coffin — wear the shroud ! It must be so : the Crown hangs o'er the Cross, Life's boat must over Death's dark stream be rowed, The dying Christ redeems man's Eden-loss, And tramples on the coffin and the shroud ! A god beside the ghastly Gate of Death Seems statued in my memory, sorrow-bowed And ringed with rayless glory ! — now, beneath His feet I see a coffin and a shroud ! O ! blissful sign ! Dear God ! and shall I win Thy smile, and Fame's, by Sin and Death uncowed, If I keep bright and pure Thy light within ? Will faith-fire bui'n the coffin and the shroud ? Will Love's lamp light Pain's death -pyre! Hope make wise? Truth's lightnings cleave the heart of Evil's cloud ? Fair Virtue ope the doors of Paradise ? And Faith consume the coffin and the shroud? Yes ! and that wing-spread Eagle, plumed with fire, By gorgeous sunset limned in golden cloud. No more shall fright me, turning to a lyre — A sepulchre — a coffin — and a shroud I A LIFE-LYRIC. 47 A LIFE-LYEIC. My heart alway pure homage will pay To its Empress Poesy, And the tapers that shine in her palace divine WiU my load-star of life still be ; My soul, sleep-crossed by dreams of the lost Life -treasures in Hope's wrecked bark. Must borrow a ray from the sun of Youth's day To make Manhood's night less dark. The loved resorts of childhood sports. The spot where Thought first bloomed, And blushed, and blew, and joy -buds out-thi-ew, Now blighted and entombed ; That glory-trance in Life's romance, Whose glow Time's gloom ne'er shrouds. Through Memory gleams, as the sunset streams Through a sea of golden clouds ! As in the shade of a hollow glade Where greening forests gloom, A lonely Tree transfigured may be In the light of its golden bloom, So I bask in the beams of my youthful dreams When immm-ed in the Castle of Care, Like a star ringed with gloom, or a soul in the tomb. Or a hope in the heart of Despaix-. 48 A LIFE-LYKIC. When, brooding and black as the thunder-rack, Grief's world-waves o'er me close. On Poesy's wings my spirit upsprings From a surging sea of woes, And I live in a world which Fancy hath furled Like a Heaven around my heart, Lit up by the beams of my youthful dreams Whose lustre can never depart. The glimmering nooks by the glassy brooks Where Oaks shook hands o'erhead, And wild strawberries, as red as cherries. Looked up from their lush green bed. The rush-isle dank, and the violet bank. The poplar's palsied leaves, The robin's red breast, and the swallows that nest In the straw-thatched cottage eaves ; The green hedge-rows, where the wild rose grows, The daisy-dappled mead, The cloud-like woods that follow the floods, And the dawn-flushed mountain -head. And all the range of greenery, grange, Dim forest and flower-flushed field. And wind-lashed trees, that surged like seas, In Memory stand revealed ! The doves that cooed, and all birds that brood In brake, bank, bush, or tree, Like the lark that soars to Heaven's blue doors, Seemed ministrant spirits to me ; THE FADED FLOWER. 49 Queen Fancy teems with youth's Eden-dreams, Bewildering Sense and Thought, And my spirit, in spite of Truth's blinding light, Is back to my childhood brought ; For Time and Space have lost their place On Reason's tear-dimmed chart, And Sorrow and Hope are building a cope O'er the tomb of a martyred Heart ! Yet I live in a world which Fancy hath furled Like a Heaven around my soul. Which lights Life's way from day to day, And will gild its gloomy goal. THE FADED TLOWER. On the rough roadside of wintry life I found a faded flower. With low-bent stem and petals pale, And leaves which trembled while the gale Swept through its ruined bower. I sighed that aught so beautiful, So redolent of God ! Should mingle with the meanest clay, Should rot and wither in the way, And underfoot be trod. £ 50 LOVED AND LOSI. I yearned to have transplanted it, Yet scarcely dared to do't ; But, anon, I took Love's pruning hook And bared it to the root. That root was lank and lifeless grown As the cold white cheek of death, For Mirth and Misery oft had met To blast it by their breath. I clipped its withered tendrils close. And lopped each rotten root, Then watered it with tears until Green leaves began to shoot. I placed it in a genial soil, And turned it to the sun, Where its blossoming may in summer repay Me double for labour done. LOVED AND LOST. A FLOWER hath faded from my heart's own garden, Whose blossoms should have gemmed the crown of Life, Alas for me ! Hope's golden day was marred in Its purpling dawn, with richest promise rife, Hence have I felt that weariness of soul. Which time no more can cure than reason can control. NOT HERE BX7X HEKEAFTEB. 51 A star hath fallen from its dazzling zenith, And dark Eclipse hath dimmed the orb of Time, Alas for me ! Bliss bloomed awhile, and then with A sudden clash was heard the death-knell chime, My Lamp of Love was blown out in the dark. And helm and compass torn from being's storm-lashed barque. The Present is a waste of desolation. The Future seems a sunless gulf of gloom, The Past, a glory-gleaming constellation. Whose lustre will but light me to the tomb, Since Fate hath ferry'd over Death's dark Sea That sainted soul who should have walked this world with me. -»- lOT HERE BUT HEEEirTER. When all the world with wonder teemed. More fair than Fancy ever dreamed. And God through all things burned and beamed. And life was bliss supreme ; When, from Youth's care-unclouded skies. Thought- Stars looked do-\vn with golden eyes That peeped into Love's Paradise, Where Beauty lay a-dream, I lavished my heart-store upon As faithful and as fair a one As e'er Life's sun shone proudly on. Or Death through envy smote ; 52 NOT HEBE BUT HEBEAFTEK. Earth seemed what Heaven in glory is, While Faith, in other worlds than this. Was planting bowers of boundless bliss With fadeless flowers of thought. Here Hope built castles in the air. Till Love believed we destined were To walk this world, a peerless pair. By Sorrow unassailed ; But Death, that gloomy archer, sped One fatal shaft, and Life's tree shed Its blossoms as it passed, Hope fled. And Love's Utopia failed ! This once fair world grew dark and dim, The stars no more seemed seraphim, But fiends, fraught with the frown of Him Who reigns the stars above ; And mad as the wild ocean-wave. When fierce Tornadian tempests rave. My life-stream leapt, to gain the grave Which parts me from my love ! My rose of bliss is blighted, and My star of hope is set — the Land Of Promise lost in gloom. Time's hand Moves slow — Death flies pursuit ! My Tree of Life will not resume Its lustre-shedding load of bloom, Till, set in soil beyond the tomb. It flowers for deathless fruit ! THE ATJTUMN-8PIKIT. 53 THE AUTTIMI-SPIEIT. Now tlie Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the Earth, bedecked with symbols of the Autumn- Spirit's reign. Makes us think about the season of the flowers with a sigh. When life was lush in every tree — love laughed in every eye. Whilst her lineaments of beauty were imprinted on the sod, When the Spring with Winter wrestled, on that gala-day of God! But the Spring is dead and buried, and the Summer's vital fire, Like a heap of sullen embers, smoulders ready to expire ; For the Autumn-Spirit, reigning over mountain, vale and plain. Robes the Earth in royal symbols emblematic of his reign ! Hark ! a singing train of seraphim doth o'er its surface pass ! Mark ! their flowing robes of flame have singed the green and speary grass ! Witness ! every tender blade appeareth tipped and tinged with brown, And the hedge is hemmed with rose-leaves, which their wings have shaken down. Though the hind but hears the whirring of ten thousand pinions beat. Sees a cloud of birds of passage trail its shadow by his feet. 54 IHE AUIUMN-SPIKIT. For the pageantry of Heaven hatli escaped his optics dim, And lie sees but birds of passage in the God-sent seraphim, ■\\Tiile the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! While his tread is on the mountain, through the valley and the plain. Like some Fate -commissioned angel. Desolation tracks his train. And the glory of the Summer and the beauty of the Spring Form a carpet for his feet, a fading, weird, and worn-out thing ! And his wings distil an odour, as of corpses in perfume, Warbled through his ghastly whispers sound the sighs of buried bloom, And his accents are dim echoes from the hoUow caves of Death, And the wailing woods are withered by his cold and crisping breath, For the Autumn-Spirit reigneth o\er mountain, vale and plain. And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-spirit's reign ! AVhere the Poet loves to saunter in some unfrequented nook. Or to sit and learn the language of the ever-babbling brook. While its glassy surface mirrors the deep gulf of Heaven's blue, "WTiere the sunny cloud-ships, sailing, point to vapoiu: lands in view. THE AUTUMN-SPIRIT. 55 There tlie river's creeks are mantled with red leaves and yellow foam, And its broken banks are scattered with dead branches dipped in loam, And a wail of desolation through the fading forest hums. And the Winds grow chill by thinking of the Winter ere it comes. While the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! Where the lily of the valley and the violet of the copse Looked like Thoughts incorporated — like embodied youthful Hopes ! Where the golden-tubed honeysuckle's pipes were interwound With the ruddy-tinted roses breathing scented music round. In the field or the forest, by the verdure-sheltered rills, Where, in green and golden garments, Summer sate among the hills, There the green is growing yellow, and the yellow turning sere. And the Summer Sun, made mellow with the Autumn- Spirit's cheer, Goeth reeling to his slumber every evening more soon, While with nightly brighter lustre glows the silver-mantled Moon ; For the Autumn Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the Earth is robed in symbols of the Autumn- Spirit's reign ! 56 THE AUIDMN-SPIRIX. When the sanguine-featured Planet shows her forehead in the west, While a sea of glowing silver rocks the god of day to rest, And, above, a cloudy canopy of purple tinged with gold In its ruddy-flaming fringes doth the dying Day enfold, And the drapery of Heaven is enwreathed around the brow Of bright Eve, whose maiden blushes bathe the Earth in crimson glow, And that orbed angel, Vesper, in a flood of rosy light. Laves her glowing limbs a moment ere she ushers in the Night ; Then the Autimm-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the Evening wears the symbols of the Autumn- Spirit's reign ! When the mellow-voiced blackbird grows more plaintive in his tone. And weird Fancy in its echo hears the Summer's dying groan, While his tale of blissful sorrow doth the soul as much appal As if some lost angel sang a song of Heaven e'er his fall ; Then the Autumn- Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the twilight wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! ^Vhen the glowworm in the coppice on the mossy bank doth lie, Like a jewel that had fallen from Jove's palace in the sky, Or a pebble, by some angel cast o'er Heaven's battlement, That had kindled in its coming by the speed of its descent. THE AUIUMN-SPIEIT. 57 And with soft and saintly lustre gleams and glitters on the sod, Like a pearl from Air's blue ocean in the garments of a God ! Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the Night is robed in sjmbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! "When the roar of distant rivers, through the midnight's ghostly gloom. Utters prophecies of stillness, sadness, silence, and the tomb ; When strange minstrelsy is mingled with the boding forest- breath, Like the music of an organ fingered by the hand of Death, While, through sheen and shade, through dusky dells, and moon-illumined bowers, Elves and fairies walk in mourning at the funeral of the Flowers, And a death-dance of pale Shadows is performed aroimd the tomb. Where the yew-trees' sable crosses and the dark-green hollies gloom. Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the midnight wears the symbols of the Autumn- Spirit's reign ! When the cloud-fiends dip their fingers in the purple blood of Dawn, And ring Day's rising planet with a sanguine- cinctured zone, 58 THE AUTUMN-SPIRII. Like a flame-enveloped vessel sailing in a sea of gore, Then the sun through sanguine cloud-vpaves dim-red radiance down doth jjour, "Which alarms the sleeping valleys, while their streams of purple mist, Rising, wrap the blue hill- summits in a robe of amethyst, And the hoar-frost and the sunlight, met upon the city spire, Make it seem a glowing pyramid of mingled snow and fire. And the trees all tinged with silver, and the buildings touched with white, Show that "Winter kissed the Earth beneath the canopy of Night ; Then the Autumn- Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the Morn is robed in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! When the nuts uj)on the hazels seem to burn within their husks, Like that ring of sullen fire which Phoebe's shining forehead dusks — Like the bodyguard of Cherubim which belts her bright abode When Old iEolus, the Wind-God, sends his blustering sons abroad ; Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the bushes bear the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! When the clouds appear like phantoms from the castle-keep of Care, And the sky looks pale and lurid as the forehead of Despair, THE AUTUMN-SPIRIT. 59 When tlie Lake appears to labour with the Mountain's mighty- form, Wombed within her glassy deeps, to be delivered by the Storm, As a starry midnight Heaven, brooding full of unborn Thought, Waits and watches for the Bard by whom deliverance is brought, When the aspect of the hills becomes more solemn, still, and strange. And all Nature seems prophetic of some dark and deadly change. And the Earth looks up in agony as if her end were nigh, Whilst sable clouds, like sepulchres, hang in the hollow sky ; Then the Autumn-Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain, And the weather wears the symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! When the whirlwinds rock the steeples, and the hurricane sweeps by, And the frown of God hangs glooming in the tempest-laden sky, TiU a gleaming gulf of lightning lays the Heart of Heaven bare. And the growls of prisoned Thunder hurtle through the darkened air, Then the giant rocks are splintered, and the oaks are cloven down. And the Alpine crags, unwintered, wear a fierce and fiery crown. While the mingled wrath of Tempests upon mountain, vale and plain. Dashes down a fiery deluge and a surging sea of rain, 60 STANZAS. Till the roads are turned to rivers, and the rivers turned to roads, Where the wealth of golden harvest-shocks the rushing torrent loads, And the roar of rushing rivers, mixed with Ocean's hollow boom, In the language of the Angels seems to sing the Song of Doom ; Then the Autiunn- Spirit reigneth over mountain, vale and plain. And the Storm is clad in symbols of the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! But the golden grain is gathered, and the glowing fruit no more. With its purple globes and crimson, makes the branches kiss the floor ; And, anon, by wizard Winter in a snowy mantle dressed. Sleeping Nature will be pressing Death's pale image to her breast ; For the golden gorgeous splendours of the Summer have decayed, And brown Autumn's ghostly garb is on the Earth's green shoulders laid. While she bows in silent homage to that pale and pensive train Of Stars, that smile down glory on the Autumn-Spirit's reign ! SIANZAS. 61 STAMAS WRITTEN ON THE OPENING OF THE BLACKBURN CORPORATION PARK, OCTOBER 22nd, 1857. The witliered leaves are from the branches falling, The sky looks leaden, winds are chill, and, hark ! Through flowerless vales the voiceful brooks are brawling. The hills grow bleaker, age begins to mark The aspect of the year, the vital spark Of Summer burns no more — his locks are hoary ! But where Joy walks Spring blooms ! the " People's Park" Lives in the people's hearts, a thing of glory. Like Blackburn's proud To-day in Freedom's future story ! Our honoured Mayor and ruling Corporation (And may the heavens rain blessings on their heads) Choose this day for the Grand Inauguration Of grounds whereon the poorest peasant treads, And knows they're his, where Health with Freedom weds, Hope broods. Toil drinks the cooling di'aught of Leisure, While Sport and Ease on Flora's bright-green beds Hold dalliance with the dainty goddess Pleasure, Boon Love leads lusty Life through Bliss's blithest measure ! 62 STANZAS. The palpitating air with music rings ! Hark ! the loud thunder of the Russian guns, As each to Heaven its salutation flings, Is echoed by the voice of Labour's sons. Through whose rude hearts Life's ruddy current runs Bounding beneath Joy's arch of triumph, bended Above its burning course, nor danger shuns Nor death, but through Fate's wilderness hath wended Its God ward way, and will, till Time's rough tour be ended ! The Saxon's soul is made of martial fire. Its time-proof temper ever is the same, Though caged in mills or trampled in the mire, Or tombed in mines, at War or Freedom's name, Its valour-flash, like the volcano's flame. Streams red and radiant from its darkest deeps ; Though War and Glory branded be with shame, Still to the cannon's roar his spirit leaps. His prowess never dies, though Prudence seldom sleeps ! Here lies the secret of this grandest gathering E'er known within the precincts of our town, 'Tis Liberty and Victory unsmothering The God within the Briton's breast ; no clown, By labour bent or tyranny bowed down, But feels the hero quicken in his blood ; He hears the guns, his cares and fears have flown. His breast is brimmed with Valour's springtide flood, Though why or wherefore be nor sought nor understood. A VOICE FROM THE OXD CHUBCH TOWEE. 63 Thank God, my home is England, queen of nations ! The land of soul and song ! the world's warm heart Of worth and wisdom ! On such grand occasions As this, how the old Proteus doth start From his disguise ! the drapery of Art No longer hides the lineaments of Nature ! The Veil of Mystery is rent apart ! The serf regains his soitl and social stature, While Joy' 8 rich accents ring through Freedom's nomenclature! A YOICE mm TEE OLD CHUEGH TOWER. WEITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF ITS PROPOSED DEMOLITION BY THE CHUKCHWABDENS, JUNE 2NT), 1857. I, WHO have stood xmharmed through one long week Of centuries, whilst wrestling with my foe. Have ever borne the belt from old King Time, And though he still the victory doth seek, As yet he hath not won one single throw ; Though gray in years, the greenness of my youth Throbs in my veins, the vigour of my prime I still retain, to mock the chafing years ; While on my furrowed front the gloomy growth Of crusting ages calmly sits, who fears That I shall ever fall ? Though Flood and Fire, Whirlwind and Thunder all their wrath should blend. To compass my swift overthrow conspire, I still might stand, did not my keepers seek my end ! 64 ELEGY. Then let them bear the burden of my cui-se, Albeit they be unworthy of one's hate ; And, should my guardians disregard this verse, Then may the curse of all who venerate The " pictured past," revere Antiquity, Prize History, or love their native town. As ivy clingeth to a rotting tree, Cling to their quickly-fading memory, ' If ever with iconoclastic zeal Their Vandal-hands my shrine shall desecrate ; And should my owners bring destruction down On my time-honoured, ruin-wreathed crown. As flame eats flax, as rust devoureth steel, May they be made Oblivion's swiftest, sweetest meal ! ELE&T ON PAST GRAND JOHN KENTON, ONE OF THE TRUSTEES, AND TREASURER OF THE PROSPEROUS YOUTH LODGE, BLACKBURN DISTRICT, M. U. I. O. A BEOTHEE dear hath mingled with the dust ! A true Oddfellow, — brethren, was he not True to his Order — faithful to its trust ? If he had failings, let them be forgot ! If there's a world where good men may be blest, Then safely may we say his soul is gone to rest. XO MARY, 65 A tender father, and a faithful spouse ; A politician of the sager sort, With him, reform begins at your own house. Nor endeth till it touch the Sovereign's court. His motto was, to benefit mankind. Nor in the race of life himself be left behind. He dwelt amongst us, and we did not deem That darksome Death would sever us so soon ; His barque went down when midway o'er Life's stream, As though the summer sun should set at noon. Weep, brothers weep ! shed one fraternal tear Upon his tomb, to whom our Order was so dear. TO MARY. When, weary with the labours of the day. And nature needs replenishment and rest. From Mammon's Mill I homeward bend my way Like travelled bird returning to its nest. Repose and richest viands are to me But dust and ashes, save when sunned by smiles from thee. 66 TO MAKY; When taste or business bids me hence depart, By cities, hills and hamlets fair to roam. Thine image, like an angel in my heart. Sits smiling, as thou wilt Avhen I come home, While every bud and blossom that I see Is embleming thy beauty, life, and love to me. When on my lonely couch at dead of night, "While in the clasp of Death all nature seems, Before my fancy flits a Form of light Filling the land of sleep with golden dreams And fairest forms, which, waking, still I see With eyes so dark and beautiful— bright Eidolons of thee ! Thou art the sun that lights my path by day. The moon whose glory gilds my darkest night. And, whether near to thee or far away. Thy love is like a beacon burning bright ; Yea ! night or day, wherever I may be, Dear maiden, thou art more than all the world to me ! THE poet's mission. 67 THE POET'S MISSIOIf. As an heir doomed to wait for a princely estate Till the epoch of manhood appears, Often inwardly sighs to possess the proud prize, Fondly wishing mere months counted years ; Even so the poor bard, t^'ho is labouring hard With a burden of beauty and love, As he stands on the slope of the mountain of hope, Often sighs for the summit above. Yet, still he must wait, toiling early and late. Till the bright-beaming goal is at hand, Nor pause to look back on the dangerous track ; Like a pilot approaching the land. He must cautiously steer, from the rocks keeping clear, And the channel of rectitude keep, Then into port heave, cast his anchor, and leave His proud barque at safe moorings to sleep. Thus will he wed fame, win a world-honoured name, If he truthfully trust his own soul — Use the unction and rod that were given him by God, To chasten and purify all. Aspiring for ever by hope and endeavour His pain-piirchased laurels are won, With true self-reliance he bids proud defiance To Fortune, however she run. 68 THE FOEl's MISSION, The true and the good he pours forth like a flood, From a mountain deep laid in his heart, But the false and the bad, though in golden robes clad, Of his lash must lie under the smart ; The bright and the beautiful, lovely and dutiful. Delicate, soft, or sublime — Man's mirth and his madness, his sorrow and sadness, Are subjects awaiting his rhyme. The Sun and the Moon, and the star-chanted tune. Which none but the poet can hear, Are as fresh and as new as the bright-glowing blue Of the heavens, when cloudless and clear ; And the Earth is as green as when first it was seen By old Adam, in God's Paradise, And its waters still flow with a luminous glow, Like the lustre of Eve's lovely eyes. Then let not Despair make his desolate lair In thy love-litten heart, Poet-sage, But with fervour and fire strike thy spirit-tuned lyre. And utter the life of the age ; Through the deeps of thy soul, though dark passion- waves roll, By God were thy faculties given To find Music and Life in Death, Discord, and Strife, To robe Earth in the garments of Heaven. Fair Fancy may stray from the glare of the day, From the glory and grandeur of noon. To the stillness of night, when the hills become bright. Washed with floods of white flame by the moon ; Or, laved in the streams of sky-mingled star-gleams, May play with the planets on high, THE POET S MISSION. 69 Or down in the deep where the dolphin's bright leap Flings an iris on Ocean's dim sky ; Or by the abodes of the angels and gods, Mid the groves of Elysian bloom, Or the mansions of woe in the regions below. Through the languageless gate of the tomb ; But the shadow she flings from her magical wings. Wherever her flight may extend. Over land or the sea should as beautiful be As the rainbow's ethereal bend. As a falcon that flies in the clear summer skies Self-balanced and still as the night, Yet upward doth spring with unfaltering wing To preserve an unvarying height. So the poet whom Fame hath saluted by name, Whom the press and the people have crowned. Must higher and higher for ever aspire If he would not recede from his ground ; • Let him spuxn Ease the charmer and put on the armour Of Action, and fearlessly fight, Daring Peril and Pain in defence of the reign Of Truth, Liberty, Reason and Right ; Let him sail with Hope's breeze on the Future's bright seas. And their fruitfulest islands explore, Whilst the world's barque remains bound by Destiny's chains To the bleak barren Present's dull shore. Behold what a list of bright names, through the mist Of dull centuries gleams like a star ! Let the lustre thus cast on his path by the Past Kindle courage for life-lasting war 70 THE poet's mission. With aught that would e'er check or change his career. Be it pleasure, sloth, slander or praise, Like the course of the sun his bright race must be run. Shedding light on the shortest of days ; And should Vice with " red gold," for which Virtue is sold, To purchase his praise ever try, Let him boldly refuse, and, like Burns, ever choose To wed Poverty rather than lie ; For the muse never ought to be bartered or bought, Since by mortals it cannot be given. But was sent upon earth with the bard at his birth As a badge of the knighthood of Heaven. Though the Present with blame seek to blot his fair fame, And a satire-lashed age curse his rhyme. Yet his bolts may be hurled in the face of the world, For the poet's protector is Time ! Then courage, sweet bard, thou shalt reap thy reward. In the future thy planet wiU shine ; Let thy step steady keep while ascending Fame's steep, For the summit is safe and divine ; Yea, banish dark doubt and the death-boding rout Of fierce Phantoms that feed on thy brain : See ! the Angel of Hope fills with glory the cope Of yon heaven, and Success tracks his train ! love's labour lost. 71 LOYE'S LABOTO LOST. I MET with a wild and a wayward Fawn, Who had no ill intent, But lawless left in the forest alone Was often on mischief bent. The Wolf and the Bear her playmates were, The wily Fox and the Lynx Had learnt her their lore till her countenance wore The aspect of the Sphynx. Though Truth might trace in her form and face The lineaments of the Fawn, She, left at large to the wild beasts' charge, Had into a wild beast grown. And day by day did her white feet stray Through Danger's darkling path, Where reptiles lui'ked that daily worked Her direful woe and scath. The full-gushing fountains of Pity let loose. Did leap in the sunlight of Love, " Alas ! then," said I " that the Daw and the Pie Should mate with the beautiful Dove. 72 xove's labour lost. " Alas, that a jewel so ricli and rare, Obscured by the pebb^ps around, Like a midnight star in the misty air, Should hide itself in the ground !" My heart did flame with a wish to tame And wash the lily-white feet Of that changeling Fawn, once bright as the dawn. Now dark as the dingy street. Whilst Sorrow and Ruth shook hands with Truth, Joy dancing before them the while, From the anchor of Hope I snatched the rope And noosed her neck with a smile. I led her away to where lambkins play Around the shepherd's fold, Far from the wood where the savage brood Of tameless creatures howled. I found her rest and food of the best, I fed her from Plenty's full horn, I gave her a part of my home and my heart. And she paid me back with scorn ! Still ever I strove with a fervent love. Nor toil nor time could tire, To tame that Fawn and make her my own — 'Twas pouring oil on fire ! A AVINTER morning's WALK. She said I had prisoned and pent her up, And kept her in a cage ; And then amain for the forest again She raved with a wild beast's rage. I shewed her the mound whence Peace was drowned, Who Pleasure's wave would quaff, And hinted such fate would herself await, — But she answered me with a laugh. At length subdued by ingratitude More cold than the winter's frost, From her neck the noose I did unloose, Thus Love his labour lost. A WIl^TEE, MOEIIIf&'S WALK. Weikd Silence rovmd the Earth her robe had woimd, 'Twas Winter, and I wandered forth alone ; 'Twas morning, and the hoar-frost on the ground, Like silver frieze when smit by moonlight, shone ; Far in the East appeared the glimmering Dawn, Whose broad glance made the stars' bright eyes grow tame And faint in heaven's light azure ; but, anon. Above the moimtain brows the bright Sun came. To melt the candid meads and flush the skies with flame. 74 A WINTEK morning's AVALK. Aurora, having ushered in the Morn, With bars of gold had bolted the blue doors Of Dawn. Apollo's gleaming locks, unshorn. Where trailed o'er silver seas and sandy shores, And shining lakes, frost-paved with glassy floors. And streams, whence Ocean his wide basin fills ; The mist fled from the valleys and the moors, Down gushed the molten crystal from the hills. And Music's voice arose from twice ten thousands rills. Not Spring, with all her rainbows and her roses, Green shoots, and buds, and blossoms rich and rare, Nor Summer, though supernal power reposes When life and light fused through- the sultry air, When earth and heaven, close meeting, as it were In dreams of Paradise, appear to kiss, Nor Autumn, with his ripe and mellow fare, Can boast a scene whose grandeur equals this, When from Death's icy chains earth bounds to life and bliss. CHEISTMAS. Old Christmas cometh round With the snow of ages crowned, And the weight of one more winter on his brow ; As he sits enthroned sublime On the hoary crest of Time, See the welcoming world before him bow ! CHRISTMAS. 75 Let us hail him as of yore, When his saintly visage wore, To our boyish minds, a smile of boundless bliss ; Let us greet him as of old, When the lords and barons bold Strewed his footprints with flowers of happiness. Hark ! the merry midnight bells ! How their rapture-laden swells. And their musically-modulated falls Scatter Christmas Carols round With a sweet and holy sound. Waking palace, castle, cottages, and halls ! While the berried holly blushes 'Twixt the bay and laurel bushes. Crowning Christmas the king of festal mirth. Let roast beef and brown beer. And plum pudding be our cheer. And of music, song, and dance, be there no dearth. While her stock of Fairy Tales With the granddame never fails, Nor the music-laugh of wee ones, let our toast Be "The Future and the Past," And let the reign of Christmas last Till this old decrepit Year gives up the ghost ! Then with loyal hearts and true We'll the task of life renew, And what we can for brother man we'll do ; To further every movement Tending to the world's improvement. Let us love and labour — hope and struggle too. 76 FAREWELL TO THE OLD YEAR. Let the largest and the least Sit together at our feast ; Let the poor be not forgotten, but forgiven Be every grudge and wrong, While each happy, love-tuned tongue Riseth jubilant in homage-strains to heaven ! And when Christmas cometh round With the snow of ages crowned, And another winter's weight upon his brow, May we meet on Life's high road, Twelve months' travel nigher God With this world more wise and better than 'tis now. TAREWELL TO THE OLD TEAR. Farewell, old year, for thy death-knell has rung ! One solemn peal, flung from the tower of Time, Proclaims that to the mighty Past belong Thy works and woes — misfortunes — deeds sublime ! Dark sin — deep sore ! Thy catalogue of crime Hath greatly grown beneath War's bloody hand, And Valour now, as in her ancient prime, Hath laurels won for this her native land, And stormed Oppression's walls, when Freedom gave command. TIME. 77 The fiery feet of desolating War Were kissed by Fame and Famine, till the reign Of death-born Sorrow, stretching wide and far, Had dipped the World in Grief's pale sea of pain ; Ten thousand maidens mourn their lovers slain, Ten thousand wives their husbands — fathers, sons. By Mars rude-mangled on the ball-paved plain, Or crushed and buried by their splintered guns. Have sunk to glorious death, as Fate's dark current runs. But thou hast hung thy helmet in the skies Of History, and trod beneath thy feet, Trade, Commerce, Peace and Progress, while the cries Of want- worn Labour filled thy ear ! Go greet The sea of years and ages obsolete, And be the darkest wave that rolls thereon ! Whilst journeying the Future, may we meet No more like thee, dim, gory, weeping one ! Thy daughter's at our door — Old Year now get thee gone ! TIME. What a mighty illusion is Time ! That tyrannous phantom, Old Time ! Though withered and bald, Still conqueror called ; Yet wherefore ? this Nought — this condition of Thought — This spell, which the fallible Senses have wrought, Is dispelled by the Spirit sublime ! 78, TIME. Free spirit, unfettered by crime, To the loftiest Thought-Summit clime ! There, wouldst thou be wise, Then lift up thine eyes And thou shalt see Spirit and Matter shake hands. Where the sea of Eternity washes the sands Of the cloud-mantled island of Time ! When Genius doth grapple with Time — That mental delusion called Time ! Minds conquering grip Doth God's matter-robe strip ; 'Tis thus to immortals that moments and years Are as one, for the goddess Eternity wears For ever the bloom of her prime ! The Soul nestles not on the sod, But builds on the bosom of God ! Time — Matter — and Space, In Truth's heart, have no place ! Like the lightning's swift track through the gloomy cloud- rack, Through such thought-mists the heaven-fledged spirit flies back To its home on the bosom of God ! A VOICE FROM THE COUNTBY. 79 POEMS FOR THE PEOPLE. A VOICE FROM THE COMTET. Come fortli, sons of Toil, from the mines and the mills, And, where the bright brooks through the green woodlands stray, Come and drink in the beauties of Nature, who rills Richest lore through the hearts of her lovers alway ; Where the speckled lark springs from the dew-spangled sod, And breasting the sun-billows soars out of sight, In homage to lay on the altar of God An offering of melody, love, and delight ; Where the flowers of the field look like heavenly things. As if the two goddesses Beauty hath crowned, Am'ora and Iris, had moulted their wings And scattered the plumage abroad on the ground. The drudging and drooping to charm and to cheer ; Where the Summer winds whisper "There's happiness here!" 80 THE liOST JEWEL. Let Mammon relax his firm grasp for a day, By life-giving Leisure let Labour be crowned, And Care, from his dark, dingy halls far away, In the full-flowing fountains of Joy shall be drowned ; Fresh vigour shall shoot through men's toil-shrunken limbs. The cheeks of pale maidens shall blush into bloom, Sweet tongues and glad hearts flood the heavens with hymns, And Mirth fling a mantle of flowers o'er the tomb ! Then come to the country and scan the blue sky, O come to the country and press the green sod ! Dry the sweat from thy brow, dash the tears from thine eye, Who mingleth with Nature communeth with God ! Yea, come, son of Toil, thy sad spirit to cheer, Tastes the sweets of the country while Summer is here ! THE LOST JEWEL. Oh ! I have lost a jewel Time can never, Nor Fortune, Fate, nor Circumstance restore — A prize I prized not ; but, when fled forever, I deeply felt the loss I now deplore ; For I have sat and seen the golden sun Of Youth go down without one worthy labour done. THE LOST JEWEL. It must be the fatality of man, The cureless curse of this our human lot, To deem the present blessing but a ban — Hate what we have, and love what we have not, For oh ! alas ! we know not, till too late. The latch we scorned to lift had opened Heaven's gate. We class our dearest friends with darkest foes, Nor know, till their departure undeceives ; We pass the brier unweeting of the rose That blooms embosomed in its bowery leaves ; We rudely drive our guardian angels hence — To Hades bid them back, and deem them demons thence. With Folly's wine we fill Youth's golden cup Till winking bubbles kiss the burning brim ; We fondly drink the fiery potion up Which poisons Peace, and think the Seraphim Have no such nectar ; taking Bliss to wife. We blindly brush the blossoms from our tree of life. Alas ! how oft is Opportunity, That swiftest barge upon the stream of Time, Seen sailing by and hailing us, but we Neglect to leap on board, because the rhyme That Syren Pleasure sings hath this refrain — " The tide which ebbs at morn ere night will flow again !" G 82 THE COTTAGE OF DISCONTENT. Experience, the Pilot of existence — That latest offspring of the lagging years — From birth till death still lingers in the distance, Nor, till his aid is useless, once appears ; But, when o'erwhelming waves have entered it, His light lays bare the rock on which our bark hath split. Thus have I lost a jewel Time can never, Nor Fortune, Fate, nor Circumstance restore — A prize I did not prize till lost forever. And now I sup with Sorrow evermore ; For I have sat and seen its sun go down "Without one worthy work my Youth's bright day to crown ! THE COTTA&E OE DISCOITEIT. As I sat at my window pane. The crowd were passing by ; " Ah ! happy and gay, that pass this way. Are the people all," said I. " See — Youth with its mien of mirth, And Age with a tranquil brow, And Childhood free in its bounding glee, And all are happy I trow ; THE COTTAGE OF DISCONTENT. 83 " Whilst I, SO sad and lone, Sit in my silent cot, Musing about the world without, And my most hapless lot." A stranger stepped from the crowd ; I came to my cottage door ; We met as the wind and the waves would meet, With a mutual bound each other to greet, Though strangers heretofore. " Young man, I read thy thought," Said he, with a searching look, " Through the visage of man his spirit I scan, Like truth in a written book. " Yet why dost thou complain. And murmur at thy fate ? The hand that piled thy load of care Allotteth every soul its share — The greatest of the great I " Throughout yon countless crowd. Each hath some cause to pine : As flowers are sprinkled upon a shroud, Joy sunneth the soiJ that sorrow hath bowed, And makes it smile divine. 84 THE COTTAGE OF DISCONTENT. " For coulclst thou cares exchange With even the sunniest soul, Then wouldst thou find, if thy choice were made, The brighter the light the darker the shade. And thy lot not the worst of the whole ! " Let patience purge thy soul Of all its fretfulness, And faith in the future kindle a smile On thy cheek, which will sweeten the chalice of toil, For hope ever beameth to bless." This said, he bade me adieu, And mingled with the throng ; But left a legacy rich behind, More precious than gold — the treasures of mind, That make the spirit strong ! I left my lonely cot. Shook hands with the world again. And since that day have I faced its fray. And am happy as other men. NEYER DESPAIE. 85 IfEYER DESPAIR. Nevek despair, though the skies gloom above thee, The footsteps of Darkness are trod by the Dawn, Though friends become cold, while there's one soul to love thee, Should friendship and love from the world be withdrawn ? Though life-ills are Legion, still battle and bear, True coiu'age will conquer them, — never despair ! Never despair while there's room left to rally And glory to gain in the combat of life, Though the mountains are bleak, there is bloom in the valley — The deeps of the ocean with riches are rife ! Though toiling and poverty fall to thy share, There's hope for the humblest, so never despair ! Never despair, though enshrouded in sorrow. Bleak Winter gives way to the blossoming Spring ; The raindrops to-day will be roses to-morrow ; Joy gildeth the plumage of Woe's gloomy wing ; Nor fear thou, nor falter, life's pathway of care Shall brighten with comforts, so never despair ! 86 PAUSE NOT ON THE PATH OF DUTY. Never despair, althougli weakened and wearied, The angels unseen lend the hopeful their aid ; The fearless heart beats where the faint heart lies buried ; "Ry faith more than ybrce is man's destiny swayed ; Dame fortune still favours the soul that can dare, For Valour is Victory, — never despair ! Never despair ! every soul hath its sorrows ; A crown without cross is what God never gave, Though Pain the appearance of Pleasure oft borrows — The daisy will bloom on the brink of the grave ! From the perilous Past to a Future all fair, Man's journey is onward, so never despair ! PAUSE lOT 01 THE PATH OE DUTY. Pause not on the path of duty ! Progress is life's law divine ; Rest doth rust — the rays of beauty Brightliest when fleetest shine. Bliss treads on the heels of Merit ; Action's flood Fame's shore doth lave ; Work will wealth and health inherit ; Victory attends the brave ! PAUSE NOT ON THE PATH OF DUTY. 87 Courage ! all thy soul's strength muster ! Fear-crowned Sloth digs Talent's grave, While Success, with sun-like lustre, Ever gleams o'er Danger's wave ! Pause not on the path of duty ! Honour's mount, though high to climb, Harbours Hope, whose smiles salute thee — Hand-in-hand ascend with Time ! Mortal, on Life's wreck-strewn ocean. Death-encompassed, passion-tossed, Right through thought-and-will commotion Cleave thy course to Virtue's coast ! Syren-Isles of Sin surround thee — Bowers of Bliss thy heart would snare In Pleasure's chain, till Buin crowned thee In his Palace of Despair ! Pause not on the path of duty ! In the God-led march of Time, Move with Angels ! Love— Truth— Beauty — Beacon Glory's goal sublime ! Winds may blow and lightnings quiver, Cloud-embosomed thunders roll — Skies, serene and clear as ever, Soon will smile from pole to pole. First the shell and then the ket-nel ; Fruit is bitter ere 'tis sweet : Winter ushers in the vernal Spring ; Life sits at Labour's feet ! 88 PAUSE NOT ON THE PATH OF DUTY. Pause not on the path of duty ! Stagnant waters putrid grow ; Indolence doth oft transmute the Hero to a smile -crowned beau. Patience, pains, and perseverance Must o'ercome all ills that may Daunt the soul, till Death's appearance Ushers in Life's Judgment Day. Toil and Task, man's earthly mission, Fit him for a future state : First pursuit, and then possession ; Trial guardeth Triumph's gate ! Pause not on the path of Duty ! Suns and Seasons never tire, But with alternating beauty Wrap the Earth in frost and fire ; Let thy course be like the planet's, Shedding light to gild life's gloom — Tireless as sun-circling planets, Till eclipsed within the tomb : Then thy soul, with bliss-born splendour. Bursting from its bonds of clay. Back to God its beams will render — Blend with Heaven's supernal day ! PRESS FORWAED ANB PREVAIL. 89 PEESS rOEWAEL AID PEEYAIL. OtTE hope is in our effort, and Luck lies our will within, For Chance and Choice are brothers true. And Faith and Fate akin ; So from the ledger of our lives Let's blot that weak word " paii, " ; " Where there's a will there is a way " — Press forward and prevail ! There's serfdom for the craven heart, But freedom for the brave — 'Tis courage makes the conqueror. And cowardice the slave ! Then courage up ! and colours up ! Should want or woe assail, " God helpeth those who help themselves "- Press forward and prevail ! The lowly sons of Labour, and The lofty lords of Gain, Have each some higher goal to win — Some guerdon to obtain : Let none of either bow the knee To Fear's phantasmal Baal, For hope is help, and prowess strength — Press forward and prevail ! 90 PRESS FORWARD AND PREVAIL. Those rock-ribbed towers and temples by Ambition built, one day WiU be nibbled down to nothing by That life-moth called Decay ; That moth can conquer castled forts, Where cannons nought avail, By slight but sleepless energy — Press forward and prevail ! One well-aimed blow in battle may Decide a nation's fate — One right resolve can raise a soul. And unlock Heaven's gate — One look can win the lover's heart — One fact turn Justice' scale : True heart, though single handed, still Press forward and prevail ! Since many mighty fame-crowned floods From feeble foimtains flow — Since giant-limbed ship-buUding woods From single acorns grow — Since one small wedge, with single edge, Can rend Earth's rocky mail, Man ! cleave thy way through life's world-fray- Press forward and prevail ! there's danger in delay, 91 THERE'S MI&EH II DELAY. Time travels on a tireless steed Though hours unheeded fly. Each other day and night succeed, The months move swiftly by ; Then let oux lives keep pace with Time, Who pauses not for aye, God's work is much, and must be done, There's danger in delay ! The poorest soul that plods through life Hath still some end in view. To gain a name, or win a wife, Or wealth, or sport pursue ; So leave not till to-morrow that Which might be done to-day, For Death calls unexpectedly. There's danger in delay ! One moment's indecision i'th' Ensanguined field of war, May blast the hero's vision with Defeat, in Victory's car ; 92 jheke's dangee in delay. Her golden ball is from his feet By Fortune rolled away, Ere Tardiness can toucli the prize, There's danger in delay ! The forward are the fortunate ; Prosperity's the son Of Tact and Toil. Proportionate Is luck to labour done. Life's sun hath left the Orient, Let's labom* while we may, Ere it sink in the Occident, There's danger in delay ! Like Folly waiting the return Of Opportunity, For wasted time's return we yearn — Alas ! that cannot be ! The law of life Progression is, Then bend we to its sway, And punctual as the planets be. There's danger in delay I Dear mothers, train your daughters, make Them fit for free men's wives ; Let truth and love and beauty break To blossom in their lives ; Make more of needle, brush and broom, Than concert, ball, or play ; And mould their morals while they're young. There's danger in delay ! theke's dakgek in delay. 93 True son of wisdom — earnest heart — That life-work hast to do, No longer linger in the mart, But prize and purchase too ; On swiftest pinions Pleasure flies, And brief is Youth's bright stay, So, strike thy bargain, noto's the time, There's danger in delay ! Ye victims of indulgence, of Whatever cast or kind, That blots the bright effulgence of True merit from the mind, No longer go, with Vice and "Woe, From Reason's Realm astray. But turn at once to Temperance, There's danger in delay ! 'Tis not by days but deeds that men Should measure human life. The hero conquers ages in An hour. The Past is rife With deathless deeds — mind's evergreens, That never can decay — Then, let us make the Present bloom, There's danger in delay ! 94 BETXEK LATE THAN NEVEE. BETTER LATE THAN lEYER. We may have run the race of life, Since first we did begin it, On Pleasure's path, with pitfaUs rife, And stumbled every minute ; We may have lingered late and long, And loath stiU be to sever Ourselves from Folly's flaunting throng, But, better late than never ! How oft, when pleasures turned to pain Have stung us with vexation. And, vowing to be good again. We purpose reformation. Quoth wizard Custom, " Come this way And follow me forever!" But, let us break his charm to-day, 'Tis better late than never ! 'Tis Age that brings experience, As Labour winneth wages ; 'Tis Suffering that matureth Sense : The soul that near engages In trial will no triumph wia ; Success attends Endeavour ; So now, let's wake the God within, 'Tis better late than never ! A LI, WILL BE WELL IN THE END. 95 'Tis work that makes the spirit whole ; Life's lamp is lit by motion ; 'Tis sorrow sanctifies the soul, As salt preserves the ocean ; Then let us bear and battle on, Since practice maketh clever, Young Hope's bright Heaven may yet be won, And, better late than never ! AIL WILL BE WELL DT TEE EO. This world is a world of glory and gloom. Of opposites in the extreme, Of mirth and of misery — toil and the tomb ! But things are not what they seem. I dwelt in the vale of the Shadow of Death, And its storms broke over my head, With pitiless peltings, that robbed me of breath, And I, coward-like, wished myself dead ; Yet I thought in my heart, as my spirit doth live. The troubles, that o'er me impend. Are ordered by Heaven, some lesson to give, And right will be might in the end I 96 THIS BAD WOULD IS BETTER THAN GOOD MEN ALLOW. An Angel there came to my lattice one night, Beautiful, bright, and bold, And bade me look up at the heavens so bright, AU fretted with fire and gold. And said there were worlds on worlds above. And God was the God of them all. That, wanting His will, not a world might move, Nor even a sparrow might fall ; Then I said in my heart, as my spirit doth live, The sorrows that on me descend Are governed by God, some lesson to give, And all will be well in the end ! THIS BAD WORLD IS BETTER THAI &00D MM ALLOW. How oft with dismay do good men think and say That this wicked world groweth worse every day ! Yet I think, if they thought more profoundly, and brought All their wits to the work, as a thinking man ought. They might find, when at Truth's burning altar they bow, This bad world far better than good men allow ! THIS BAD WORLD IS BBTTEK THAN GOOD MEN ALLOW. 97 I know the fiend Crime tracks the footsteps of Time, And that every age leaves behind it a slime Of dark guilt, yet the path of the darkest age hath More of glory than gloom — more of love than of wrath ; From the hut to the palace — from Adam till now, This bad world's been better than good men allow ! Though on the wide heath of this world, from beneath Every corner of Heaven, we see hunted to death Infant Freedom, the beautiful, lovely, and dutiful. Millions of throbbing hearts yearn to salute the full Dawn of her planet, to crown that bright brow Which one day shall shine where Oppression glooms now ! In the world-whelming strife between Right and Truth's knife And Might with Wrong's heart for a mace, life for life It may be, but a calm will succeed, when the palm Shall be granted to Right in a world-chaunted psalm, Whose burden will be human Brotherhood's vow To rule this fair world where Ambition reigns now ! Though brave hearts may break in the struggle, a streak Of red light limns the god upon Victory's peak : While Evil and Good, like the flame and the flood Dashed together in tempest, are neither subdued ; Yet the hope of the Earth is to bind Heaven's brow, For this bad world is better than good men allow ! H 98 MATE ME WITH CHILDREN OB. LEAVE ME ALONE ! Let the bright bird of Hope brood beneath the clear cope Of right Reason — not blindly in Fancy's realm grope — And a Heaven upon earth, quickly bursting to birth, Such as must in the fullness of time be brought forth. Shall soon break through the shell of the Future, I trow, For this bad world is better than good men allow ! MATE ME WITH CHUBREI OE LEAYE ME AIOIE ! The sapling more gracefully grows than the tree, In purity, dewdrops excel the deep sea, The morning, in beauty, outlustres the noon, Maiden May is more lovely than leaf-mantled Jime, The home of our childhood we never fdreet. The first kiss of love is the sweetest kiss yet. No rose is so chaste as the the rose-bud unblown. Then mate me with children or leave me alone ! They are haunted by angels, 'tis said, and it seems That sweet fancy is true, for they smile in theii- dreams. When their spotless young spirit strays thro' the blest bowers Of the soul's inner Eden to gather God's flowers, Where the angels may meet them, as doubtless they do — What the heart holdeth good, let the reason hold true ! While Felicity reaps where Affection hath sown, mate me with children or leave me alone ! MATE ME WITH CHILDREN OR LEAVE ME ALONE ! 99 I have mingled with, worthy and worthless men too, I have met with the great — with the good and the true ! I have tasted of friendship, and know what it is To have felt the sweet swoon of love's word -killing bliss, But the happiest hour in life's loveliest day- Hath been past amid childhood's sweet prattle and play — While they lisp out their love in that Heaven-tinged tone, mate me with children or leave me alone ! 1 care not for company, revel and rout, 'Mid the boisterous laugh and the Bacchanal's shout Should I lucklessly linger, my spirit will roam To brood o'er its own little Heaven at home, Where I've two charming children, a boy and a girl — A rose and a lily, a pink and a pearl — In that palace of life, and their love fills its throne, So mate me with children or leave me alone ! When Summer glows golden o'er mountain and vale And the perfume of roses enriches the gale, To the bowery banks of yon stream let me hie Where children chase butterflies bright as July, Surpassing the splendour of Orient kings By the powdery gloss of their moon-mottled wings, Or to muse in yon ruin, with ivy o'ergrown. Yes, mate me with children or leave me alone ! When Winter-broods o'er us with cloud-wings unfurled. When frost flings a shroud o'er the face of the world. When the Earth seems to suckle the Image of Death At her snow-mantled breast, whence pulsation and breath 100 THE TASK OF TO-DAY. Have departed, and Leisui-e, when laboiir is done, Turns his face to the fire, like the Earth to the Sun ! Though Pleasure to lure me hence loose her charmed zone, Here, mate me with children and leave me alone ! They scatter new gloss upon Time's hoary wings. String the harp to the heart with more musical strings, Sow the sunshine of youth in the furrows of age Making Spring greenly smile where grave Autumn looked sage; Their love-litten laughter can pierce the dark pall Settled Sorrow wraps round her, cause Care to let full His unbearable burden, still Misery's moan, Then mate me with children or leave me alone ! THE TASK OE TO-DAT. LOVE. To love all that is lovely, and truthful, and pure. That the sages have said, or the poets have dreamed. Whether lofty or lowly, far-famed or obscure, "V\Tiether worthy or worthless by worldly minds deemed ; To love man with a love that is boundless, and glows With a flame that is quenchless, that knows no decay, But makes room in the heart both for friends and for foes, And is wide as the world, be our Task of To-day ! THE TASK OF TO-DAY. 101 HOPE. Let Hope, whose keen eye through the Future's dark veil, Can pierce the dim Heavens that are looming beyond, With one look, mild as Christ's make her Enemy quail — Quell that demon Despair, who would have us despond ! Let her torch, like a beacon that burns through the night, "While our tempest-lashed bark cleaves the billowy spray On the Ocean of Life, become ever more bright. And to land in its light be our Task of To-day ! LABOUR. Let us labour for all that we hope for, and fling A life in the balance to weigh against Wrong ; Let us worst this old World in its own wrestling ring — Worthy feats well performed make the soul-sinews strong ! Baptized in the fire of the battle of Life, When the conqueror, Death, comes to finish the fray, We have courage to cope with his terrible knife, Lent by Labour whose lore is the Task of To-day ! COURAGE. On our perilous path through the valley of Care, Where to fear is to faint, and to faint is to fail. We have ills to encounter and dangers to dare That wm put to the proof both our courage and mail : Let us temper our swords in the martyr's death-flame, And inspirit our souls with a life-giving lay. Keep our minds free from rust, and our lives free from blame, Since, to dare imto death is the Task of To-day ! 102 THE TASK 01' TO-DAY. ENDURANCE. Let US steadily steer for the Island of Good Through, Evil's rude ocean-swell rushes and rolls ; We must fish Wisdom's pearls up from Suffering's flood, For pain is the purification of souls ! The race must be run ere the prize can be won ; To-morrow the heart-eating vulture may slay, But as Night must be gone ere we hail the bright Sim, Like the Titan to bear is the task of to-day ! PEKSISTENOE. As insects can huge coral continents form, As the moment-drop fills the deep ocean of years, So, a life-lasting siege with that citadel storm Where the Bridge of the Soul droops in bondage and tears; Let the Waters that bore through the rock-hearted hills. Let the Wind that can wear marble statues away, Teach the Soul how to conquer linked legions of Ills, Like aU Time, by persistence the Task of To-day ! THE SOUL. Like the love-burdened Christ, sunk in Sorrow's eclipse, The pure Soul, pent in Silence, feels Thought murder Speech, Utters heaven-truths that faint on Earth's fallible lips, Live'i a lore that's too lofty for language to reach ; Defiant of Danger and Death, Time and Fate, Let her hope and endure, love and labour alway. Since to-morrow she panteth to pass the Pearl Gate — Seek the lost key of Heaven, 'tis her Task of To-day ! THE GOLDEN GOB. 103 THE &OLDEI aOD. A PAGE FOK THE AGE. Oh ! this is a steam -born and iron-bound age Of factories and foundries, of gold and of gain, Of prisons and workhouses — Want's heritage ! Of railways and rivalry, paupers and pain. Of printing and preaching, and men who mortgage Their souls to serve Mammon, the god of the age ! And this is a cold and mechanical age, Its symbols are seen upon every hand, The key and the compass, the rule and the gauge, To hedge in Man's spirit, lest it should expand ! Whilst Mammon of metal is moulding a cage To immure human souls in — Alas for this age ! And this is a truckling and trafficking age Of coin, not of conscience — of money, not men — Not morals, but merchants ! — peer, parson, and page Ai-e anxious for interest — love lucre — and, when There's a prospect of profit, most gladly engage To serve yellow Mammon, the god of the age ! And this is a servile and superfine age ! The world is a warehouse of shams and of shows, Of follies and fashions, and fine equipage, Of cant of coquetry, of belles and beaux, Whilst Reason retires to his old hermitage Leaving sin-sceptered Gold regnant god of the age ! lOi THE GOLDEN GOD. And this is an anti-poetical age ! Even God-given talent like lumber is bought, And the last glowing link of the bright lineage Of Genius is crushed 'neath Trade's huge Juggernaut ! But the spirit derived from its high parentage Is deathless and wiU sing the dirge of this age ! For gold is the god of this iron-girt age ! For its smiles the best vigour of manhood is sold ; 'Tis the vision of Youth, and the passion of Age, Though heartless, and soulless, and callous, and cold ! Cast your eyes where you will, on the simple or sage, Their actions prove Gold is the god of the age ! Yes ! Gold is the god of this iron-girt age ! For its kisses free conscience consents to be chained ; 'Tis caressed by the rich, it is worked for as wage By the poor, though the latter but little have gained In this struggle and strife Mammon-thirst to assuage, For Gold is the pitiless god of the age ! Ay ! Gold is the god of this iron-girt age ! Its love is a tether that ties up the soul ; Its lust makes the miser grow rampant, and rage To defraud even widows and orphans of dole ; And, wherever you look upon Life's motley stage, Every scene showeth Gold is the god of the age ! THE GOLDEN GOD. 105 True, Gold is the god of this iron-girt age ! The red-handed assassin drinks courage to kill From a fountain of gold, or its stream — patronage ! Yet surely the bright hand of Genius will, In letters of fire upon history's page, Write " Gold was the god of the iron-girt age !" Though Gold is the god of this iron-girt age, My soul bids me say that a change must take place ; His spirit will break through its vile vassalage And Man shall exist as a holier race ; And counters and commerce no longer shall wage A war with pure conscience in that happy age ! No more, then, shall Gold be the god of the age. When Right conquers Might, and when loveth killeth Fear — When Peace shall companion the life-pilgrimage Of Mankind, tracking truth, then the world's pioneer — When Freedom's pure fountains shaU. flow to assuage The Oppression-born thirst of this iron-bound age ! No more shall bright gold be the god of the age When Knowledge, Religion, and brotherly Love A Heaven upon Earth to mankind shall presage, Making mortals as happy as angels above ; And the past shall appear but as Mind's pupilage, When Gold was the god of an iron-bound age ! 106 THEY CBUSH BECAUSE WE CKINGE. THEY CRTJSH BECAUSE ¥E CEII&E. Oh ! wherefore are the people thus oppressed ? Why do the haughty tread the humbler down ? Why have the poor this mountain on their breast ? The rich breathe freely — Crime still wears the crown, While Want and Wealth the social world unhinge ! Is Heaven at fault ? Ah, no ! they crush because we cringe ! Has God not gifted us with souls as great— With energy to struggle and endure ? Are we than lords less heirs of man's estate. Our aims less holy, or our lives less pure ? Must Cain's dread curse our fevered foreheads singe While theirs are cool — Pride crush and Penury still cringe ? 'Twas Pride plucked down the Morning Star from Heaven, Wreathing the dawn-crowned brow of Lucifer With darkness, wrath, and ruin. Of the seven Named deadly sins, oh ! none is deadlier Than Pride, that child of Power and Wealth, who tinge Pure souls with Satan, hence Chiefs crush and Helots cringe ! TIIEY CRUSH BECAUSE WE CRIKGE. 107 Wealth would not be a god but for the prayers Of Poverty — the High rests on the Low ! Fear forms his fiends, Hope builds her heavens, and there's No stream but ivilVs supplies the sea of woe ! To mesh bright Hope, men make Despair's dark springe. Noose Freedom's neck, nor Crowns could crush did Crowds not cringe ! Men judge this world by standards most unjust, 'Tis dimmed by Doubt, made fair by Faith and Love, 'Tis God's grand garment or 'tis dead men's dust As joy or gloom the juror's pulse doth move ; Thus, seeming fact may seeming fact impinge. But Truth is One ! God's good ! Kings crush and cowards cringe Let Labour brush the care-cloud from his brow, Nor look as if the earth held nought but graves ; The dawn of his redemption neareth now — . Oppression's night of tyrants and of slaves Is passing ! Thought, with Truth's fire-scourge, will swinge Those wasters from the world who either crush or cringe ! ^o^ Proud Wl-ong shall be dethroned by regal Right, And Evil cease to lord it over Good, "When, ruled by mental not by martial might. Mankind becomes one world-wide brotherhood : 'Tis Fear lets Force on Liberty infringe — No fiends would dare to crush did fools not deign to cringe ! 108 LET US HELP EACH OTHER ONWARD. LET US HELP EACH OTHEE Ol^WAED. Let us help each other onward, For old Time appears to wait Till the last o'ertake the foremost, ■ Ere he ope the golden gate Of Love, which leads to Liberty Within the land of Bliss, Where the darkest days are brighter Than the brightest daj^s of this ; Let us help each other onward, And, if Tyranny should frown, Our wedded palms will weave a cord To bind the demon down. Let us help each other onward To the dawn of Freedom's day. Earth and Air, and Flood and Flame will Aid and waft us on our way ; Let us shun Contention's Maelstrom And with steady hand, prepare To steer the bark of Hope across The gulf-stream of Despair ; I,ET TJS HELP EACH OTHER ONWABD, 109 Let US help each other onward, And, if Selfishness should frown, Social Brotherhood will chaunt a charm To bind the demon down. Let us help each other onward ! When beneath his load of care Falls and faints the poor life-pilgrim, Let us raise him, share and bear Equal portions of his burden Till the sands of Time be crossed — In Eternity's deep ocean Deeds of love are never lost ! Let VIS help each other onward, And, if Hell-born Hate should frown. Our love-linked hearts will form a chain To bind the demon down. Let us help each other onward Until Labour's priest at length, As a text for Life's grand sermon, Taketh " Union is strength ! " Let our province be the Possible, Our standard be the Just, All that wisdom says we might do Let stern "Will declare we must ! Let us help each other onward, And, if giant Fear shoidd frown, The hand of Hope, with Valour's rope, Must bind the demon down. 110 LET US LABOUR OXE AND ALL. Let US help each other onward ! Fathom Truth's profoundest lore, She will not teach us now to reach The fruit of Bliss, but more — That the Soul must hope and struggle, And on Sorrow's bed lie down. And feel the martyr's flame, and win And wear the martyr's crown ! Let us help each other onward, And, when darkest Death shall frown. Sweet-smiling Faith and Fortitude Will tread the demon down. LET US LABOTIE OIE km ALL. Toiling, hoping, suffering Brothers, Workmen of my native land, Mark this truth above all others — Mind must evermore expand ! Man must wrestle for the blessing, Ever up at Duty's call. Light increasing, life progressing, Let us labour one and all ! For the spread of mutual kindness. For the freedom of our class, For the sons we leave behind us. Fettered by our faults, alas ! XET US LABOUR ONE AND ALL. Ill Still the path of toil pursuing, Truth and love our guide and goal, Vices vanquished, hopes renewing, Let us labour one and all ! To obtain a firmer footing On the ground of happiness, Planting right, and wrong uprooting. Chasing discord and distress ; On the world of woman's folly Let the dew of pity faU, And, to make her pure and holy, Let us labour one and all ! Men must love and trust each other Ere the truth can make them free. Each regarding each as brother. Bound in social unity ; By a wise co-operation, Whilst our class we disenthral. Winning wisdom, wealth, and station, Let us labour one and all ! Let us husband our resoiu-ces. Hoard up for a " rainy day" Thrift and forethought are the forces That keep Care and Want at bay ; Then those fiends, which men call famine, May no more our minds appal ; For ourselves we will examine All things — labouring one and all ! 112 LET US LABOUR ONE AND ALL. Truth and freedom let us cherish, Prize them more than priest and king ! Then our tree of life will flourish, Labour's heart for gladness sing ! "Why should we, like steeds in harness, Stand in some proud master's stall, When we for ourselves might furnish All things, working one and all ! Let us drill and bore the mountain, Till the blessed light of day. Breaking through, displays the fountain Whence the floods of evil stray ; Let us curb Pride's wrathful current, Fling from bank to bank a " caul;"* And, to stem dark Error's torrent. Let us labour one and all ! None may rest on Hope's bright anchor Save the soul that bravely strives ; Work wears off the rust and canker From the hinges of our lives ; On ourselves be our reliance Sternly built, a bastion tall. Bidding Fate a proud defiance : Let us labour one and all ! SkiU sits at the helm of Fortune ! Perseverance, his first mate, Backed by Com-age, wins his portion ; Worth will triumph soon or late ! * Caul, the technical tenii for a dam-bank or water-break. LET ITS LABOUR ONE AND ALL. 113 Misery from. Misdeed still flowetli, Bliss sits throned in Virtue's Hall ; Myriads reap what one man soweth — ■ Labour for the good of all. Woe to him that would restrain us In our on and upward march ; O'er their graves that seek to chain us Build we our triumphal arch ! For the crown and throne of Labour, Fenced by Freedom's flaming wall. Brother, friend, companion, neighbour, Let us labour one and all ! For our glorious Queen and country's Welfare — for Old England's name. Gleaming through the gloom of centuries. First in freedom as in fame — For our homes, and hearts within them. Though our pittance be but small. Life has blessings, and to win them Let us labour one and all ! Still increase our store of knowledge, Not alone from book or scroll. But from Nature's boundless college, Free to every searching soul ! Whilst the vernal Year still wingeth Round this mighty mundane ball Her bright way, she ever singeth " Love, and labour, one and all." I 114 LET US HOPE FOK BETTEE DAYS. LET US HOPE POR BETTER DATS. In true men's lives it is not true That Labour plays a losing game ; Though Fame but chronicles the few, She leaves you room to write your name ; Then fearlessly the feat perform, Nor heed what hateful envy says, But stem the stream and brave the storm And live in hopes of better days. 'Tis hard, when two fond hearts are linked In love that lasts for evermore — When, qviick, as if the welkin winked And darkness shed from shore to shore, A grave is thrown across the path Of life, and withers all its bays, And blights the fairest bloom it hath — 'Tis hard to hope for better days. 'Tis hard to bear the bitter smart Of care and pinching poverty. Till brain is frenzied and the heart Is frozen into apathy ; But fickle Fortune frown thy fiU ! The freaks thy eldest daughter plays Shall never rob me of the will To bear till dawn of better days ! XEI US HOPE FOB BETTEB, DAYS. 115 Oppression's gloomy clouds may lower And Slander's blighting winds may blow, But patience in the peril-hour Shall triumph o'er the double foe ; Though Danger and Disaster come And hedge me in a thousand ways, Still, smiling in the face of Doom, I'll wait and watch for better days. Be humble but hold up your heads, Though want and scant may be your lot. For they that sleep on downy beds May in a paupers cofEn rot. While many, who with Indigence Are plodding now, shall proudly raise 1 hemselves to wealth and eminence ; So let us hope for better days. The morning dawns upon the night, And Spring the Winter still succeeds, And Wrong is vanquished by the Right, And Truth dispels the darkest creeds. And for the worthy working man Shall still ring out my rugged lays. To break the dull despairing ban And bid him hope for better days. 116 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE. THE SPIRIT OE THE A&E. There's a principle at work, and neither silently nor slow But with firm unfaltering footstep ever onward it will go, Till the suffering sons of Labour shall be lifted from the dust By their faith in one another — mutual help and mutual trust ; 'Tis the golden " good time coming" by the bard and by the sage Limned with light in their deep musings — 'tis the spirit of the age ! There's a principle at work that is both vigilant and strong, That with patience seeks the right and bears with fortitude the wrong. That is fervent as the prophet and persistant as Old Time, And will make this desert planet bloom like Eden in its prime ; 'Tis abroad among the people, who with hand and heart engage, And will work their own redemption through the spirit of the age ! THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE. 117 There's a principle at work, and let us aid it every one Both with earnestness and energy — 'twill help but injure none ; Let us put our pence together, and, with Union Flag unfurled, See a bloodless revolution wrought throughout the social world ; Let the word " Cooperation" be emblazoned on the page Of the Present, by the people, 'tis the spirit of the age ! There's a principle at work that marches hand in hand with Hope, A champion with whom the foes of freedom cannot cope, For he wields the sword of justice, and, in truth and honour mailed. Stands the only people's champion that never was assailed ; For he's mild as he is mighty, and his marvel-deeds presage A Paradise on earth to crown this spirit of the age ! There's a principle at work that flings a lustre on the crowd, And their gloom is lit with glory, as the lightning fires the cloud ; From his helmet flashed the splendours of the bright millennial star, And his voice, like volant thunder, is reechoed from afar. As he cheers the people onward, while they move from stage to stage, Crying " Follow through the future !" " Track the spirit of the age !" 118 THE UNCROWNED CONQUEROR. THE MCROWIED COIQTJEEOE. Though numberless lays are resounding in praise Of the heroes of death-dealing War, Yet I cannot but deem that the conqueror Steam Was born under a loftier star : As a Stream leaps to birth from the bosom of Earth And channels its course to the Sea, Rejoicing forever a full-gushing river, From rocky immurement set free, So, from being close pent in the crude element, Beneath fateful Watt's wizard hand. He leapt into life wjien Necessity's knife Cut Condition's umbilical band. Fate sanctioned that hour the birth of a Power More mighty than cannon-girt kings. Old customs and laws topple down as he goes And up springs a new order of things. Fair England first hath been the field of his path, And a change darkened over our isle. Huge factories now rear their tall chimneys in air Where the once lovely landscape did smile ; And the flame of the forge flashes up from the gorge Of her mountains once wild as a dream ; And her valleys and downs, dark with smoke-mantled towns, Show the footprints of fire-nurtured Steam ! See him now on the rail, while a sulphurous trail Of dense vapour is hanging behind. THE XJNCBOWNEB CONQUEROR. 119 As he moves slow at first, like some demon accurst, Breathing fire and just snuffing the wind : Brazen sinews are strained till his speed is attained-— As the hurricane sweeps on its course, Resistless as Death, snorting thunder for breath. He pants forth with an earthquake of force ! Every snort flings a flake of white smoke in his wake, As with Titan-like vigour he plies. While the loud whistle shrills, through the heart of the hills Like the cloud-cleaving lightning he flies ! He hath gone to his goal, and a vaporous pall Hangs gloomily over his track ; But a moment ! and then he will greet you again With his meteor eyes flashing back ! This old World seems to wait for the fulness of fate, TiU some bard crown the King of this brood Of Titans, that fly on our railways and ply In our mills iron-limbed and brass -thewed. Shall we mourn o'er the ills that prevail in those mills. And the misery caused by machines Which supersede men in Toil's mart ? Must we then Sigh and groan o'er those huge magazines Of War and of Wealth, which are bought by the health Of myriads of Mammon-led slaves ? No ! these are the ships of Industry, whose trips Are to Freedom o'er Destiny's waves ! I say it in sooth — 'tis the kernel of truth — For never hath irony curled My lip at the mass, while I flattered that class Which is fed on the wrongs of the world. 120 THE iriSrCBOWNED CONQUEROR. I knoio there is Wrong, but the strain of my song Need not stoop to chastise the fiend here ; Though the earthquake may split even mountains, still it Cannot alter the course of the sphere ! Such trifles disturb it not, in the wide orbit Through which it unerring doth roll, The confusion oi parts from its path never starts The lohole planet, nor man as a whole ! Trace Evil's dark flood— to the Ocean of Good ! See Progress pricked on by her pains ! Even Sin, with her goad, whips the World on the road Of true Wisdom, for God guides the reins ! , Every river of Eight, through the channel of Might, Must flow ere it gain the true goal, And the ocean of Might become rivers of Right, For Virtue is Strength after all ! And Steam, without fail, o'er the earth must prevail, Till his webwork encompass mankind ; 'Tis the Spirit of God breathing life in the clod — 'Tis the marriage of Matter and Mind ! Let no murmurs be heard, let no famine be feared. For old Time treads a Heavenward track ; Though bleak mountains be seen, fruitful valleys between Never dread that his journey will lack. Then hail unto Steam ! 'tis the base of the Dream Of the Future mifolding to sight — 'Tis the Spirit of Man breaking through the World-Ban Ere he leapeth to leisure and light ! THE SUNNY SIDE OF LIFE. 121 THE SUMY SIDE OE LIEE. Life has a side which I term sunny, Made of choice moments, bright and bonny Pictures, fancies quaint and funny — The joke — the jest — Bandied about, like current money, From breast to breast. These are the sun-gleams of the soul — The mind's meridian splendours — sole, Sure sum?num honuni of the whole Social affections ; From east to west, from pole to pole, Our predilections Are on the side of mirth and wit. And humour, which is wit, close knit And linked with love — by fancy lit — "Whose flashing flames Make people laugh and, almost split- Ing, shake their frames. 122 THE SUNNY SIDE OF LIFE. The racy, risible emotion Makes joyous hearts heave like an ocean Of dancing sunbeams, whose commotion And glowing tide Just prove my transcendental notion Of Life's bright side. Though Butler, Pope, Swift, Byron, Burns, Launched forth wit's lightnings in their tm-ns, And sorely pinched poor Folly's corns, I must admit ; Yet, sweetest roses grow on thorns, So mirth on wit. They lashed the foibles, fopperies, evil Aims, custom, cant, shams, souls uncivil. Nay, crucified the very Devil Of the ages In which they lived ; yet who would snivel At their bright pages ? Is it not truly mirth-provoking To hear mere self-dubbed saints keep talking About the blasphemy of joking, Deeming Wits enemies. Because "Wits wont cower with them croaking. Where nought but venom is ? THE SUNNY SIDE OF LIFE. 123 Let me bask in the beams of mirth, Where sons of Wit oft sally forth To banish from the friendly hearth Life's cloudy glooms, And I'll not envy wealth, rank, birth, Till Death me dooms. And even after death, when even That for which we aU have striven, The bright, the sunny side of Heaven, Shall have been gained, We shall be fitter for what's given. By being trained With foretastes of supernal bliss. Whilst wading through a world like this, Where Melancholy oft doth miss The moral road. While Mirth is privileged to kiss Angels, thank God ! 124 WHEN WILL THE GOOD TIME COME? WSM WILL TEE &00D TIME COME? What rhapsodies were written, and what pseans sang in praise Of that reign of love and light which had to dawn on future days, When the weak should not be buffetted nor burdened by the strong, But when Right should wave his banners o'er the battlements of Wrong ; When the haughty rich should feel no itch to overbear the poor, But true brotherhood embrace the world and war be known no more ; My humble task is now to ask, while heart and harpstrings thrum This hopeless interrogative — When will that good time come ? When the rich shall cease to grovel, making gold no more their god ; When the poor shall cease to grumble, and through paths of plenty plod ; When the barriers are broken that have severed class from class. And both wealth and lofty lineage commingled with the mass ; WHEN WILL THE GOOD TIME COME ? 125 When the crotchets shall have crumbled that have severed sect from sect, And man's mind shall, like its mansion, point to heaven — stand erect ! Why st the angel- voice of Freedom shall pronoimce Oppression's doom, 'Mid the plaudits of Humanity— When will this good time come ? Our tantalizing teachers have been bold and over kind, They have led us where they listed, as the blind would lead the blind ; They have told us what they knew not, left unuttered what they knew, And our faith is failing in them, for their tenets are not true ; Those untruthful prophets fabled what the future had in store, And their Oracles, responding, bore the news from shore to shore ; But those prophets sit in silence, and their Oracles are dumb, "While we ask, and Echo answereth — When toill the good time come ? 126 WHAT HAVE WE TO FEAK ? WHAT HAYE WE TO FEAR? At the footstool of the Future, while the Present kueels in prayer, And beholds in tranced vision, through the land of Toil and Care, All her proud but painful passage to the citadel of Hope, And those demons men call Dangers with which Courage has to cope. How her fervent bosom heaveth, while the Deity within That is ever urging onward spite of Danger, Death, and Sin, Whispers "Triumph will be glorious as trial is severe !" Winning wage to work proportionate, what have we to fear ? Through the grand but gloomy vista of the Past when we look back. And behold the pit and pendulum, the dungeon and the rack, And the thousand forms of torture, with the faggot and the stake, That were suffered by the martyrs for our faith and freedom's sake. How the grateful and the humble take possession of our hearts. With a proud congratulation at the stage our travel starts ! For the channel of the stream is crossed, the bank is drawing near. The river hath been forded well, then what have wc to fear ? WHAT HAVE WE TO FEAR ? 127 Through oiir history gleameth now and then a glimpse of Freedom's form, Like the fitful lightning flashing through the curtains of the storm, And we know her form is beauty and her spirit boundless love, And all of bliss e'er felt on earth or feigned of heaven above : Let the future, like the past, be measured by a line of light, Marked by deeds of martial bravery and works of mental might. And when England shall, like Italy, have need of sword and spear. Her Saxon sons can wield them well, then what have we to fear ? We have borne the load of life, which like a mountain-pile appears Of those congregated Evils, the dark ofispring of the Years I We have worked the mine of mischief mid the gloom of mental night Till our hellish task grew irksome and we laboured up to light; We have got some little gold and made a mighty mound of dross, We have battled for the Crown the while we bore the painful Cross, But the Crown is in our reach now and the Cross is in our rear. And our hope becomes reality, then what have we to fear ? 128 THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAK. Let US drape ourselves for action in the Drama of the Age, Let our spirits move like Titans upon Time's o"ercrowded Stage, Let true Valour, which is Virtue, ever fortify our souls When the Stream of Life is troubled or to Death's dark ocean rolls. Let us plough its rocky channels bright and fringe its banks with bloom, And its flashing waves in death will fling a glory on the tomb, And, if destiny hereafter be determined by us here. Let us fill our days with deeds of love, and what have we to fear ? THE DEATH OE THE OLD TEAE, 1856. Faeewell, Old Year ! while round thy dying bed Time draws the pallid curtains close, grim Death Stands mutely vigilant to clutch his prey ; Crime, like some Hadean monster, at thy head Sits darkly glooming, and the tide of breath Is slowly ebbing from thy frozen breast. What baubles thou hast borne upon thy crest ! What gilded shams in thee have had their day ! Myriads of those that hailed thy birth now rest Within the silent sepulchre ; the grave Hath glutted on the great, the good, the brave ; Lordly and lowly, mingling clay with clay, Have bowed to thee, their conqueror, but thou Must yield thy livid lips to Death's cold kisses now. THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAK. 129 O ! liow it wrings the heart of the survivor To view the vacant places of the dead ! The stream of ages is a blood-stained river Whose whitest wave still bears a tinge of red, Whose brightest billows gleam with crests of gore That fling red light upon the Past's dim shore, Where History's scorched feet by Fate are led. Why murmur, man ? God's burning seal is set On destiny. The hours must aye be fed On human lives. Why make thy spirit food For Sorrow's fangs ? — but human hearts ivill fret In spite of all philosophy — regret Past joys — on loss and cross still brood. And feel a joy -fraught woe in the soul's solitude. But see the rising virtue of our race ! See ! on the Present now begins to shine The love-born lustre of the Future's face, AU-glprious as the smile of the Divine On sinner saved ! 'Twill light the murky mine Where Labour moils in more than midnight gloom, Trim Hope's faint lamp, Grief's channelled cheek illume ; Though Sin and Sorrow mock the mortal bier, Mankind may yet be better — happier ; — fear Not, for the rose that now begins to bloom On Freedom's cheek is fadeless ; year by year 'Twill blush, and burn, and brightlier glow, and dear As life be held — dearer than all save God ! Then farewell Year, thy death makes less Life's mountain-load. J 130 BKITONS, B^^ BROTHERS. BRITOIS, BE BROTHERS. Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Be bold And high-souled, But be gentle and just : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Let your love Be above Either lucre or lust : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Aid a man If you can — On his heart stamp your bust : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! BRITONS, BE BROTHERS. 131 Britons, be brothers and true to your trust! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! No shuffling Nor scuffling, But down with your dust : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Though the gauge Of life's wage Be a crown or a crust, Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! It will serve To preserve Your free spirits from rust : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! "With a strong Hate of wrong Give the tyrants a thrust : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! 132 BEITONS, BE BEOTHEKS. Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Be loyal To Royal Victoria august : Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! Never say That you may, But acknowledge you must, Britons, be brothers and true to your trust ! SONNETS. 133 SONNETS. POETRY AND THE PEESENT AGE. How often have we heard some shallow sage, AVith Mammon's maxims crammed full to the crown, In doleful accents tell us that the age Of Poetry is past — the days have flown That made our Shakspeares, Miltons, Youngs — and now There's nought but mechanism on life's dull stage ! Oh ! coward thought ! the living streams will flow From lifeless rocks when struck by the true rod Of Moses ! Yea, 'tis now as 'twas of old, The touch of Midas turns all things to gold ! 'Tis on the soul, more pregnant than the sod. That we depend for Poems that can bow The world in homage ! Phoebus brings the morn — AVhen God appears, the bush can never fail to burn ! 134 SONNETS. ClATTCEE. QtJAiNT-THOTTGHTED Chaucer, sire of English song ! Nor song nor sonnet ever can rehearse The multitude of merits that belong To thy wide-ranging, vastly varied verse : Thy piquant fancy, Proteus-like tongue, Rare wit, rich humour, and amazing power Of painting men and manners, words would wrong By weak description. An exhaustless shower Of thought-rain thou from spirit-skies dost pour On endless ages, fresh as morning gales ; By none but Shakspeare equalled to this hour, Thy mirth-exciting " Canterbury Tales" Upon the tide of Time's rough wreck-strewn river, Will, like a well-manned vessel, safely sail for ever ! SPElfCEE. Bright -FANCIED bard, who like some seraph wingest Thy way through fairy scenes for ever new ; The lovely legends thou so sweetly singest Make men admire and wish they were but true ; Ethereal as the unfathomed blue Of heaven when summer skies are most serene. SONNETS. 135 That Limner-Thought whose witching pencil drew Belphcebe's wondrous beauty must have been ; The fancy that could feign a Fairy Queen Was winged for proudest flights of poesy ; Sweet poet of romance and chivalry, Upon our path what flowers thou ever flingest ! To Britain what linguistic wealth thou bringest ! To Time a light — to Art a lasting legacy ! SHAKSPEARE. What muse but must with diffidence advance To sing the praise of him who at a glance Saw through all hearts— all passions could pourtray ? Whose matchless pen a magic halo flings O'er peers and peasants, cardinals and kings — To him, the world of spirits, open lay I He forces fantoms of the dead to rise. Or sets weird Witch-land full before our eyes, Or touches men to tears with briefest lines ; For, like the sun through morning mist, his mind Flames through weak words, with angel-thoughts confined In human speech, immortal Shakspeare shines Amongst dramatic poets broad and bright As the unclouded moon amid the stars of night ! 136 SONNETS. MILTON. Op Homer's fire, and Virgil's majesty , And Dante's depth possessed, great Milton's mind Was rich and ripe as autumn. Well he knew His plenitude of strength, and therefore threw Into the world, immortal as our race, A poem — like a planet into space Hurled by Omnipotence. Though old and blind, And even poor, he trusted Memory, And leaned on Hope, though Hope her lamp had lost, And darkness like a sea without a coast Encompassed him. His Heaven-iUumined soul Dispelled the gloom and gained the glory-goal Where now he sits transcendently sublime, A peerless jewel sparkling in the crown of Time ! POPE. What would our English verse have been without Pope's polish ? — smoothest of the rhyming rout ! A more celestial piece of mechanism Was never known. The colours of the prism Seem painted on his spirit, and its hues Predominated as he deigned to choose. SONNETS. 137 A wit, sage, scholar, critic, bard, logician, Sound moralist, profound metaphysician ; He understands himself ?i\\. he tells you. And minds to make you understand it too ; Whatever path he ventures to pursue, He loses not, but leads the reader through ; 'Twere well if such a wise and wholesome rule, Were put in practice by our modern Mystic SchooIi. THOMSOI. Sweet poet of the Seasons ! who shall peer That fame -crowned feat by which in Time's abyss Was chained the Phantasm of the burning Year ? — The while brow-bound with Fancy's fairest flowers. Sate Piety enthroned on thy pui-e page. How are we awed by such transcendent powers When through one fervent soul a glowing age Pours all its pith ! We thank thee, God, 'tis ours To read him and admire ! 'Tis very bliss To think his thoughts, and dream his dreams, and sing His songs of ecstacy ! for Thomson is True bard of Nature's build — as Autumn sage, Sublime as Winter, beautiful as Spring, And fruitful as bright Summer, Plenty's sun-crowned king ! 138 ' SONNETS. BTJMS. As from the dark womb of a labouring cloud Sublimely leaps the fire-fledged lightning forth, So from the loreless Caledonian crowd Sprang Burns, the mighty minstrel of the North ! The world with wonder saw the ploughboy bard, Who drove a smoking fiuTOw thi-ough the field Of literature, refusing all reward. With heart against corruption proudly steeled ! With steady hand his name he nobly ploughed Upon the age, and stamped it with the worth Of genius that to time can never yield. In Scottish lays, though half his light lies hid, Like flaming Titan in cloud-vapors veiled, Yet in Thought-land he stands, a star-crowned pyramid ! -0- BYEOI. Vast, deep, and gloomy ! wild, and bright, and strong- Resembling Ocean, flushed with solar rays. Was Byron, that proud prince of modern song. And Wit's rich heir to deathless blame and praise. All nature found a mirror in his breast, Till, schooled by Scorn, he learned to laugh and jest SONNETS. ISO At all things — even at his own spirit's haze ! Pride bore him "Wrong, Wrong Sorrow, that slew Hope And nursed dark Doubt with whom he dared not cope, And yet his inmost soul did Truth admire ! In all its moods, with master-hand he sways The human heart ; and, when he will, displays Titanic force winged with electric fire. As if Apollo played on Milton's mighty lyre ! KEATS. Like some bright Vision from the land of dreams Did Keats appear and pass ; yet sweetly rings His harp in realms of Poesy. Pale gleams Of classic splendour flash along his themes, Like jewel-sheen in crowded courts of kings. Or lunar light, when shed on Alpine streams ! His soul was one vast reservoir of sweets With melody and beauty overfilled : Alas ! that fullest cups are soonest spilled — That falls are frequent from the highest seats ! As falcons seize the song-bird while he sings, So screech-owl critics killed the poet Keats ; Yet with a pulse warm, wild, and fresh as Spring's, Embalmed in deathless song his heart for ever beats ! 140 SONNETS. ED&AE ALLAI POE. Cold are thine ashes now, Columbian bard ! But warm, and wide, and fast, and far thy fame Is spreading, like swift sunbeams on the sward Of Continents — all Europe lauds thy name ! Her strongest minds must tremble when they try, Like thine, to sound the depths of Mystery ; For thou couldst probe dark problems, quick as when Jove's lightning cleaves the cloud-rocks — clear as pen Of poet pierces through the gloom of ages ! But poets may be neither saints nor sages, For Vice hath vanquished many mighty souls — Archangels have by evil been undone. As thou hast, Poe. Alas ! thy planet rolls A globe of ghastly splendour, far from Virtue's sun ! ALEXAIDEE SMITH. A sum:mee sky, flushed with Auroral splendours, Thy genius in its gorgeous dawn resembles — Warm, grand, and graceful, destined to endure ; An Angel, that on golden pinions trembles Above a sleeping infant, scarcely renders A picture so poetically pure SONNETS. 141 As is thy muse ! She moves in music, lives In light, and loves intensely as a God ! The danger-daring flights that she doth take Make even Shakspeares mighty planet shake In Admiration's utmost zenith with The sweep of her wide wings ; yet, sweetest Smith, Angels have fed on earthly food ; Earth gives Antaeus strength ; let earth by thee be oftener trod ! &EEALD MASSEY. Sv7EET-NUMBEKED poet, proudly we thy name Behold among the British bards inscribed. In golden letters, on the List of Fame ! A second Burns, that never could be bribed, By Fear or Favour, to forsake the class Whence thou didst spring — the lowly labouring mass. Whose feelings, fears, and hopes have tipped with flame Thy potent pen ! Let not occasion pass — Portray their wrongs, regardless of the blame Which Cant may cast on thee, in hope to tame Thy scathing indignation ! Let thy tongue Be ever heard in humble Worth's defence, And may the Muses still inspire thy song With truth, and love, and life-instUling eloquence ! 142 SOXNETS. LOVE. THIS fair world were dreary, dull, and dark, But for the presence of the light of Love — That Sun of Life — that quintessential spark Which kindled worlds through Night's dark wilderness ! It is God's highest attribute no less Than Man's most golden gift — ^his spirit-ark That floats on Time's deep deluge, as a bark Sits on the sleeping Ocean ; 'tis the boat That bears him to the haven of his hopes — ' Truth's Land of Promise. Ever let him bless God for the gift, and use it as he ought — Plant groves of BUss on Life's most barren slopes, Till Earth in virtue vies with Heaven above. And Love in every breast sits like the brooding dove ! ^^ BLISS BEHIID THE &MYE. 'Tis sweet to see the rainbow's prismal arch Bestride the mist-robed mountains of the earth ; 'Tis sweet to see the golden Sun upmarch From gloomy clouds and give the Morning birth ; 'Tis sweet to hear the peals of infant mirth In childhood's pleasant sports at close of day ; SONNETS. 143 'Tis sweet to sit beside a glowing hearth And listen to the night-winds' fearful play — To stand upon a stonnless mountain brow, While white-winged lightnings leap from clouds below, And watch the warring elements, is sweet ; But sweeter far it is to feel and know. When face to face with darksome Death we meet, That life, and love, and bliss ovitwear the winding sheet ! THE EISII& SHI. Though midnight heavens a-glow with stellar light With deathless thoughts may fill and fire his muse, Though silver-crowned Astarte, Queen of Night, May claim his homage, or the rainbow hues Of Flora's cheek fling lustre o'er his lay, Not all the stars that stud Night's dim blue arches. Nor all the flowers that fill the lap of May, Nor Queen Astarte when she stately marches O'er sable cloud-rocks robed in silver grey. May through the poet's raptured fancies ray Such regal splendour as the golden-grand — The God-reflecting, fire-crowned King of Day, When on some dawn-flushed hill, the bard doth stand To watch him scale the sky, o'erlustring sea and land ! 144 SONNETS. COIflSTOI WATEE AM THE OLD MA]^. I've trod thy woodland shore, wild Coniston ! Around whose marge, dark, rock-ribbed mountains rise, When, laved in lustre by the setting Sun, Their purple peaks gleamed in the summer skies And glassed their splendour in the lake below, Upon whose placid bosom nightly lies The giant spectrum of that Man of Stone, Who, in the realm of Thunder, Wind, and Storm — With gloom or glory crowned, or capt with snow — In lonely grandeur fills his granite throne, And seems, while lightning-heralds on him wait. As if some dread Sublimity had form And feature found, and here in awful state With cloud- wreathed sceptre swayed his kingdom desolate ! THE PEOPLE'S PAEK. Perambulating " Blackburn People's Park," I scaled the rocky ridge of Revidge hill. And sat beside the Russian guns, to mark The lakes below that slumbered calm and still ; The white and winding ways, through which a dark And devious stream of men and maidens strolled, SON'NETS. H5 Beneath my feet lay like a map unrolled, Where land and water formed as fair a scene As ever slept beneath the soft, serene Autumnal heavens, or blushed beneath the smile Of rosy Spring, who robes the Earth in green And golden garb. In this unconquered Isle, Where Cromwell fought, and Milton tuned the lyre, Such scenes show Freedom's heart still throbs with martial fire ! THE MALTHFSIAI PHILOSOPHY. Her population multiplies so fast, Malthusians say the Earth will be o'errun By Nakedness and hunger — that one vast. Wide, world-extended empire will be won By Want and Woe from fair Felicity — That Misery's bark must sink in Death's dark Sea, Or Famine's horny eyes out-gaze the Sun ! Their purblind souls to man's high destiny Can pierce not with prophetic glance ; they see No scrip borne by Time's Pilgrim. Mind hath stored Within itself the means of life. Though Birth Leave Death behind till Life-floods drench the Earth Men need not starve ; for, God be still adored, The Sea of Soul hath some green isles yet unexplored I K 146 SONNETS. SALEOED BEID&E. THAT POPULAR RESORT OP THE GREAT UNWASHED. Blakewatek hath a broad bridge stretched across It, consecrated to the goddess Sloth ; There may be seen the vulgar, vile, and gross, The lame and lazy — rich and ragged, both ; And many a greasy fop in threadbare cloth ; The idle huxter, and slink butcher too ; Men that do nought, and men with nought to do ; The Monday-lurking tailor, smith, and snob ; " Jours," tramps, and scamps, and beggars out of job. And vagabonds whose names the muse would loathe Pronounce lest they pollute the listener's ear ; By ignorance urged on, with many a oath. Some graceless ragamuffin in the rear Insults the passer-by with shocking gibe and jeer. ACROSIICS. 147 ACROSTICS. ^^^ TO A YOTJI& POET. Greatness, dear friend, is destined for the few ; Exceeding high is the ascent of Fame ; O'er hills of pain and perseverenco, you, Resigning pleasure, onward still must plod, Glowing with hope and aspiration true. Enamoured of the muse, fired by the flame Serene which erst within the breast of god Apollo glowed ; in Promoethean fire Let heaven-bom Poesy embalm thy name ! Is there no path of poetry untrod ? Surely there is ! and genius such as thine — Bright, strong, profound and fertile — may acquire Unprecedented laurels, which will shine Refulgent for the future to admire. Yield, therefore, to the promptings of the timeful Nine ! 148 ACROSTICS. PEIEraSHIP. k Right glad am I to know that there is oae On whom my heart serenely can repose, Beneath the wings of well-tried friendship ; none E'er prized a boon more dearly : friends and foes Rude jostling meet — life's storm-tost waves roll on — Too many these, alas ! too few we find of those ! Mankind might make this earth a blissful heaven If Sympathy's bright circle were complete ; Lest Want should walk the earth with bleeding feet. Let Charity apply her spirit-leaven, Sweet Brotherhood Avill weave dark Discord's winding-sheet. Eternal God ! how would the green Earth smile. Sage Time's dull visage brighten, toil grow sweet Quite conscious of the change ! Let us, meanwhile. Upon the path of duty ever plod, In earnest work and wait as is most meet, Repine not — Patience smooths Truth's rugged road — Endeavour to do right and leave the rest to God ! THE SWEETS OF LOVE. Sweet is the breath of Spring through roses blowing, And sweet the song of birds within the grove ; Rich are the flowery meads in sunlight glowing. And music of the streams which through them move How sweet ! yet sweeter is the voice of those we love ! ACROSTICS. 149 How shall my pen pourtray that peerless grace, Or paint the glance of that soul-speaking eye, Undimmed by aught — of evil not a trace ! Love's rainbow bent o'er Beauty's cloudless sky Glows in the living lustre of her brow ; Regnant thereon sit Purity and Youth, And modest Mirth chaste as the vestal vow ; Virtue and Honour, Innocence and Truth, Encircle, and may Hymen find her fair as now ! SIiaULAE BUT SO. Maiden, with what sweet, strange mind-music fraught Are memories of our late chance-meeting brought Right home to this sad, sorrow-stricken heart ! Years cannot cancel it — 'twill be a part, Believe me, dearest, of the treasure-store Enshrined within the poet's soul. Nay, more ! Are not such meetings of two kindred spirits Re-unions ? Frail Memory inherits Dim, dream-like thoughts that we before have met — Seen — spoken — known — yea, loved each other ! yet Where ? When ? Not in this earth-life surely ! Let — let me hide the thought ! alas ! I've striven — Reproach me not when Fancy whispers " Heaven ! " There, must our souls, ere doomed to tread the earth, Have been betrothed, but Recollection dies at birth. 150 ACKOSTICS. OI^E SMILE or THINE. Moke than blind Chance directed our first meeting, And, lit by Love's bright lamp, dear Margaret, Remembrance ever dwells on that heart-greeting, Gilding Life's shies with stars that never set ! Around the shores of Hope forever fret Rude billows of the Ocean of Despair, Engulphing oft her golden sands — vain threat — They will not overwhelm thy heart-throned image there ! Before the everlasting throne of Heaven Enraptured have I sought Truth's holy shrine. Naming the gifts a bounteous God hath given To crown them all with one sweet smile of thine ; Let Fortune frown or smile, in shade or sheen. Either in gloom or glory pass my days, Yet stiU my heart shall own, my pen proclaim thy praise ! TIME WILL TELL. Malignant is the aspect of that star Athwart Love's world which throws its beams to mar Repose — which doth the death of Hope discover, Yea, blast the very heart-bloom of the lover ! ACROSTICS. 151 Alas ! fond Fancy dwells on days gone o'er, Now sweetly lock'd in Memory's golden store, Now gone for aye, but flinging evermore Round Life's dull sphere a halo of delight, Enclosing it ; else would Despair's dark night Drape my sad soul in Sorrow's sable shroud : So do I think and^eeZ, and yet a cloud Hangs o'er my spirit, shading it with doubt ! Art thou unchanged in heart, who seemest to flout While hopeless I repine ? The future will find out ! A BLESSII&. Mild be the aspect of thy ruling planet. And smooth the path thy fairy feet shall tread. Ringed round with roses be thy marriage bed, God give thee bliss with ne'er a blight to ban it And love for love through life when thou shalt wed, Riches without the vices they beget, Endearing friend, with not one foe to fret Thy peace while Heaven rains blessings on thy head ! Let all the world say what they will, still I Am bound to speak of thee as I have found. Yearning to raise thy spirit from the ground Like prisoned eagle aiming at the sky, Alas ! sweet love, youth flies so swiftly by ! Nor should it lag, yet earlier had we met Dear girl our lives had blent, and love may link them yet. \o2 ACROSTICS. THE MOTHER TO HER CHILD. My little darling, Mary Jane, As she clings to my bosom. Raising her ruddy lips to mine, Yielding the very blossom Just blowing on the tree of life And love's ripe fruit persaging, Ne'er dreams of what her parent feelsi Engaged, life's rude war waging. And yet her eyes, brimful of joy, Shew glimpses of the morrow — How, when the Maid is merged in Wife, Will mingle Care and Sorrow ! O that her path through Time may be Richly bestrewn with flowers, To compensate the ills that Fate Heaps on this life of ours ! EPISTLES. 153 EPISTLES. THE IlfPIRMART. A LAY OF GRATITUDE TO WM. PILKINGTON, ESQ., MAYOR OF BLACKBURN, FOR HIS HANDSOME SUBSCRIPTION TOWARDS THE PROPOSED INFIRMARY, JAN. 1ST, 1857. THOU, that sittest in tlie civic chair, Vouchsafe to listen to my humble lays ! Chief Magistrate of Blackburn ! merit rare In thee demands the workman-poet's praise ; And workmen will ten thousand voices raise To peal this anthem in the World's wide ear, Praying for health and wealth and length of days To thee and thine, whose names, held fondly dear, Are shrined within our hearts, like light in Day's bright sphere. 154 EPISTIiES. Sinceirty doth sit upon thy soul In such unsullied purity as snows Upon the Alpine mountains or the Pole, Or as the dew doth hang upon the rose, For thou hast deeply quaflFed the wave which flows In streams through every philanthropic heart, Ordained by God to drown all human woes, Of Poverty to heal the bitter smart, And make thy fellow-man as happy as thou art. Go on, good man ! God speed thee on thy mission Of mercy ! Bear aloft the olive rod ! Rule mildly ! emulate the Great Physician ! Tread all the paths Benevolence hath trod ; It is the highest attribute of God, The fairest feature of the sons of earth ; It leadeth men from Sorrows sad abode And lights the cheeks of Woe with smiles of mirth, And sheds a halo roimd the town which gave thee birth ! How will the poor of Blackburn ever prize That priceless boon, which had its origin Within thy breast, whose bounties tide-like rise To sweep away their suiferings ! Within Thy native town, what blessings wilt thou win For myriads, that will bless the memory Of him, who, Howard-like, walked foremost in The Christ-trod track of true Philanthrophy, When Blackburn points with pride to her INFIRMARY ! EPISTIiES. 155 TO A POET-FUIEID. Thanks ! my dear friend, for your humorous letter, So pregnant with poesy, wisdom, and wit ; Displaying such fancy, and — what is far better — A heart whose affections with mine are still knit ! One dash of your pen, or one stroke of your pencil — Take which j)hrase ye will, since by both are expressed What I mean, and I hope that your usual good sense will Select that which pleases yo\ir palate the best — One dash of your pen, then I say, is sufficient To rouse from its slumbers in Memory's chasm. The ghost of past Pleasure, when thought, act, and wish went In unison ! Lo ! I behold the Phantasm ! 'Tis robed in the evergreen garments of Nature, And crowned with a mountain of sky-sweeping woods ; Its belt is the rainbow, its rude rocky stature Is washed to its base by the white-foaming floods ! On its breast I behold where our holiday rambles Extended afar over plain, heath, or hill. To Pendle — or Eibble, whose banks, fringed with brambles And hazels, embosom that fountain-born rill. 156 EPISTLES. Where the bell of the lily was changed to a chalice Whence we drank holy water to drown the fiend Thirst, While the song of the birds rippled down the green valleys Where rose- wreathed briars into blushes had burst ; "Where we lay on the grass, 'neath the sun-shading hedges, To rest, and to feast on the poet's sweet dreams, After leading the chase o'er the broom-blossomed ridges And light as the antelope leaping the streams ! * a- ■» i} ■» a- ■» But, farewell dear friend ! in the far-distant future, May joys bright as Youth's gild thy path to Life's goal ! Exercise is Health's handmaid — Man's noblest tutor — And mirth is the sunshine that brightens the soul ! -♦^ PEOPLE'S COLLE&ES. TO THE EDITOR OP THE BLACKBDRN TIMES. Deak Sir : — I need make no apologies For writing about People's Colleges, Since, in one of your last weeks " Leaders," By you the attention of your readers Was directed to this matter, In terms by no means meant to flatter Their prejudices for the rules Of byegone days respecting schools. Like you, we think that knowledge should Be free as air ! And that it would Be well if we had some such plan As you propose. But, pray how can EPISTLES. 157 We bring this fig-tree to fruition In Blackburn ? — Thafs beyond my vision ! The reason, I make bold to mention This, is to draw your attention To the subject once again, That you may make it quite as plain To other minds, throughout the town, As it, no doubt, is to your own. Oh ! how my heart leaps at the thought, That science will at length be brought Within our reach ! That saving lore Shall knock at every workman's door ! That Truth shall come, so that we may Move with the movements of the day, Probe aU the problems of the ages And ride with Progress stage by stage, Sail on the philanthropic flood Of Universal Brotherhood And, casting anchor in Hope's bay, Meet the Millennium on its way ! And hail it as it moves along, And cheer it till it reach the throng Of those that labom- far behind. Beset with adverse waves and wind. Waiting with hope — firm, not forlorn — 1 he dawning of man's moral morn. When Virtue, Love, and Light shall rush To pluck the rose from Bliss's bush ! But it is time I should conclude, Fearing those figures seem but crude 158 EPISTLES. In this my long-drawn-out epistle, Whicli, like my last one, if you list will Now be left at your own option For rejection or adoption, Either way will just please me, Hence I remain yours W. B. LEISURE MOMElfTS. TO JOHN BAKON, THE GKIMSHAW PARK POET. 'Tis night ! once more my daily task is done," And now my leisure moments are to me A priceless boon ; I seize them one by one, And, as the bud is rifled by the bee, Extract their sweets, before I let them flee Adown the Stream of Time, broad, deep, and vast, Which ever moveth towards that mighty sea, That dark, dim, shoreless ocean, called the Past, And with them weave a lay, destined perchance to last. And Baron, I would consecrate to thee (An ofiering not unworthy thine applause) This lowly lay, from servile flattery free, Though not exempt from many frets and flaws ; Though wanting much in cadence, point, and pause, And Avarring oft with order, art, and taste, Yet holding strict adherence to the laws Of friendship, in whose fire our hearts incased Glow like two verdant worlds by solar beams embraced. EPISTLES. 159 Have we not lived and loved and known each other A period that passeth twenty years ? Hast thou not been to me a more than brother — Joyed in my hopes, and sorrowed for my fears ? — But chiefly that which soul to soul endears Is that we both have mated with the Muse, In amity, nor envied our compeers ' Their fortime, who to foUow Mammon choose, But let him have his way, who sordid wealth pursues. His be the Godless gain, and ours the glory Of sowing seed to bring forth mental fruit To bud and blossom when our locks are hoary : 'Tis ours the ranks of Reason to recruit. To " teach the young idea how to shoot," To multiply the triumphs of the mind, To charm the angel and to chain the brute, To make the age more moral and refined. And link our lives with Toil to serve our suffering kind. O let us seize on every idle hour And sacrifice it at the shrine of Art ! The pioneers of thought possess a power That kings might envy — that shall not depart With life, but live in lustre on the chart Of Time, and point the ages to their goal — Nay, build a bridge of progress, high athwart The stream of years, whereby the human soul May win its way to bliss, as streams to oceans roll I 160 EPISTLES. Then string thy hai-p once more, and strike with fervour A strain to purge and purify our town ; Fame hath in store, for every true deserver Who bears her faithful cross, a fadeless crown ; The cries of Crime have brought Jove's thunder down And blanched with mist the moral firmament, So strike thy lyre, and let its numbers drown The voice of Vice, like prophet heaven-sent, Unburden thy rapt soul, and give the God full vent ! And I will hail thee 'mid the moral fray, And cheer thee in thy on-and-upward course ; Still gaining heart and hope, as streams alway Increase in breadth and volume from their source ; Nor shall Misfortune, Time, or Death divorce Our spirits, or destroy our love of song. Find us the right less forward to enforce. Or backward to do battle with the wrong. But still in Freedom's van, with flame-tipped pen and tongue ! But Business bids me come to a conclusion For now my Leisure Time is at an end. Hence I in haste transmit this soul-effusion With diffidence, to my indulgent friend. Still hoping you will kindly condescend To smile upon my rude unpolished lay. To strive with me Life's rugged road to mend, To speed the dawn of the Millennial day — T sign myself YOUR FRIEND for ever and for aye. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 PR Billinston - 'ill2 B'^lls Sheen and shade AA 000 365 812 7 PR I4II2 B511s