THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 
 
 • ; 
 
 
 I 

 
 EXERCISES 
 
 
 A RECUMBENT VACATION 
 
 1860—61: 
 
 WITH A FEW OF EARLIER DATE 
 
 IN KEMOTIS I IRM1ST.A ROPIB1 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 l'UINll D, l OR I '1 ION, \-\ 
 
 MANN NEPHEWS, 39, CORNHILL: 
 
 mi » a i.\i.
 
 
 OFFERED, WITH THE WRITER S 
 
 TO 
 
 1 
 
 «.- fzA.J-j£zT2-c/ ' 0-7 1^- fZ 
 
 ^a^/l^zrz. 
 
 
 16, Lansdowne Circus, 
 
 South Lambeth, 
 
 October, 1861. 
 
 (271 t Hit MRpttM confinement to < l-covch at R I
 
 1860—01. 
 DIED AT THE STATION-HOUSE. 
 
 Polite Report 
 
 ■ Died at the Btation-house.' Ah, Mr. Combe, 
 You've marked oil' many a sorrowful doom. 
 But that dark record of -in ami woe 
 Can hardly a Badder entry -how. 
 
 • Drunk ami incapable' — bo it ran — 
 Shunned of woman ami SCOmed of man; 
 Outcast hawker from bar to bar, 
 Where the poison-fire and the gas-lights are: 
 
 Thrusl forth, 'insensible,' into the night, 
 When the time was come to put out the light; 
 Nameless ami homeless — her last abode, 
 Sa\<- one the pavement of Cornwall Road. 
 
 'Turned out drunk.' Only think. .Mr. Combe, 
 There's something worse than an "inn's worsl room'- 
 The bleak outside of the closed inn-door, 
 And never a bench but the ston
 
 DIED AT THE STATION-HOUSE. 
 
 There she was found, alone with Death 
 Listening close to the struggling breath: 
 ' Her face was downwards ' — so they say 
 Who gently raised and bore her away — 
 
 And, yet, we can fancy that face, Mr. Combe, 
 With an upward eye, and an innocent bloom 
 Of maiden pride and gladsome health, 
 Prodigal outlay of Nature's wealth. 
 
 So. taken off to the station, she 
 
 Was charged with due formality — 
 
 But the vaulted cell was tenanted too 
 
 By her grim friend Death, the sole and true, 
 
 Who disposed of the case, without delay, 
 In his own so merciful, summary way; 
 And, in place of hard labour,*gave the boon 
 Of a rest which could hardly come too soon. 
 
 ' Fitful fever ' of life o'ercast! 
 Poor downward face! Upturned at last, 
 Let us hope, to the dawn of a nightless day ■ 
 Even your hot tears may be wiped away.
 
 A CHRISTMAS < AliOL. 
 
 id bless 3 on. g I and loyal fri< o 
 
 trusty and so tried: 
 The absentee iii> greeting sends 
 
 To you, this Christmas tide, 
 When Christians should do other 
 
 Than ( ihristian names empl 
 In wishing one another 
 
 VII comfort and nil joy. 
 
 'Comfort and joy' — as testifies 
 
 The carol's homely lin< — 
 Fell, in an age of mysteries, 
 
 From messengers divine, 
 Vi this so sweet and solemn time, 
 
 In tidings from on high: 
 Theme all too lofty lor a rhj me 
 
 Slipshod as mine to trj .
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 And though good Angels talk no more 
 
 To wonder-stricken men, 
 The heavenly messages they bore 
 
 Are sent and felt as then: 
 Comfort and joy, on every hand, 
 
 For hearts and homes reserved 
 Where thankfulness lias softened, and 
 
 Where hope and trust have nerved. 
 
 But chiefly do these visitants 
 
 To their firesides repair 
 Who feel for others' woes and wants 
 
 And alien troubles share. 
 Most sure of such rich guerdon be 
 
 The steadfast friends in need. 
 Who never tire of ministry 
 
 To lonely invalid. 
 
 To you, then, shall they come to-night, 
 
 My ' friends indeed,' and bring, 
 (To chase the sense of summer's flight, ) 
 
 A foretaste of the spring 
 In that fair promise clustering round 
 
 Your knees — the flowers you've reared - 
 With just one thought for him, still bound. 
 
 Whose heavy hours you' ve cheered.
 
 ( ONJUGAL DIALOGUE 
 
 n: i \ki.i ( LOSING M"\ I ITENT. 
 
 — Loweb Norwood. 
 ,— Saturday, 11.80 P.M. 
 
 ■li you're waking, donM disturb me; call me later, 
 
 there's a dear ; 
 For though I can't account for it, I feel a littli 
 
 queer : 
 To morrow, youknow, is Sunday, so I think at home 
 
 I 'II Btay, 
 Instead of going to church, and have a nice long 
 
 quiel day.' 
 
 • // I'm waking! — precious chance of sleeping / 
 
 shall get, 
 What with tossing and with snoring! Don't tell 
 
 me, I'm not your pet — 
 It':- thai good-for-nothing friend of yours who's 
 
 welcome to the term : 
 \!,, you may well look scared to liml you've roused 
 
 th<' trodden worm !'
 
 10 CONJUGAL DIALOGUE. 
 
 'Well really, now, its hard upon a fellow — just for 
 
 what ? 
 I caught the last but one, and here's a wigging I 
 
 have got ! 
 It' s the only day for comfort, and I' m sure we never 
 
 wish 
 For more than a plain joint, and, p'rhaps, a little bit 
 
 of fish.' 
 
 • Plainer joints than / see daily I defy you, Sir, 
 
 to find, 
 And a bit of fish in matting packed you never used 
 
 to mind, 
 When the Five o'clock you rarely missed on Saturday 
 
 from town, 
 And at Six, or so, we constantly sate comfortably down.' 
 
 ' At Six, my treasure ! obsolete, unscientific hour, 
 Quite exploded since the glorious recent Movement's 
 
 moral power, 
 (Early closing, shutters hoisting, locking desks,) has 
 
 set us free 
 For a healthy promenade, love, and a sober meal 
 
 at three.' 
 
 * Promenade, love ! gallivanting, you had better say 
 
 at once ; 
 But be good enough to notice that I'm not quite 
 
 such a dunce
 
 \.n GA1 DI \i.ni.i 1 I 
 
 A- iml fco know thai four from t * -u arc six. my Lord, 
 
 ■ pray, 
 
 Wliat healthy pastime filled ap tin- remainder of the 
 day?' 
 
 Sis hours, my little dar — well, Jemima, if preferred; 
 Bui i" reckon time in thai way is bo palpably absurd ! 
 Win-, digestion and the topics of the current week 
 
 require 
 Two hours at least, and then a little chal before the 
 
 fire'— 
 
 'Before the fire! domestic scene! Behind the fire, 
 
 you mean. 
 Of your cigars, which cannot help revealing where 
 
 v<iii\ c been. 
 A real blessing, I'll !"• bound, their ashes can't 
 
 disclose 
 The anecdotes so relished under what men call 
 
 The Rose.' 
 
 • Stuff and nonsense, now, Jemi — well, I only touched 
 
 your arm, 
 And spasmodic jerks like tliat betoken simply false 
 
 alarm. 
 
 1 certainly Bmoked on< — there, you needn't look 
 
 BO stern — 
 And I meant to catch the half-past six, but Fred 
 
 proposed a turn.'
 
 12 CONJUGAL DIALOGUE. 
 
 ' Much obliged, I 'in sure, to Fred' rick — as I'll men- 
 tion when we meet — 
 
 Fresh cigars, of course, were lighted when we got 
 into the street. 
 
 A sad, long walk you must have had, inseparable 
 pair ! 
 
 Pray, was anybody kind enough to offer you a 
 chair ?' 
 
 ' Now, upon my soul, Jemima, you are getting quite 
 
 too bad, 
 And I do believe an angel's tongue may drive a 
 
 mortal mad. 
 Yes, I had a chair — in Wych Street — which I paid 
 
 for, and, no doubt, 
 Mr. Robson's got the money, and so now the murder's 
 
 out.' 
 
 ' Well, don't sit blinking there, you goose, for 
 
 Sunday's all but here — 
 Early Closing's late reposing for the wives, that's 
 
 very clear ; 
 And the only testimonial Mr. Lilwall gets from me 
 Is the gift to Mrs. L., poor thing ! of a silver 
 
 (chased) latch-key.'
 
 A RECOLLECTION OF GALLEY HILL 
 
 Septemhrii. I860. Galley inn la the site of the fourth Hartello I 
 westward, from St. Leonards. 
 
 A ri.i \< wt goal for ride or walk 
 
 We found it, and I find it still 
 A pleasanl tlieme for after-talk, 
 
 The tower-crowned headland, Galley Hill. 
 
 For those fasl friends in time of need, 
 Kind Sympathy and prompt Good-will. 
 
 Best solace of the invalid, 
 Escorted me to Galley Hill. 
 
 The wesl wind breathed a welcome bland, 
 As, steered with super-boyish skill, 
 
 Mv puny (from the Holy land ) 
 Toiled patiently up Galley II ill. 
 
 All rural Bights and sounds, save one. 
 
 (The Bongster's friend, 'the murmuring rill,') 
 Up-gathered seemed, an open boon 
 
 For eye and ear, on Galley II ill :
 
 14 A RECOLLECTION OF GALLEY HILL. 
 
 All peace, as on that day befel — 
 No moaning gust, no sea-bird shrill, 
 
 No hollow laugh of languid swell, 
 Broke the repose of Galley Hill. 
 
 Blithe exile from the gay parade, 
 
 Where Time oft seems so hard to kill, 
 
 I felt/twere shame to be afraid 
 To cope with him on Galley Hill. 
 
 ' And here,' I mused, ' how sweet to stay, 
 ' Remote from drug, exempt from pill, 
 
 ' To wile the heavy hours away, 
 ' Inhaling strength on Galley Hill, 
 
 ' Supremely indolent ; and yet ' 
 
 (A thought to disenchant and chili !) 
 
 ' How shall the convalescent get 
 ' His Times at ten on Galley Hill ? 
 
 ' Abiding place it may not be.' 
 
 With that I turned, and gazed my fill 
 
 Of the fair space of land and sea 
 Within the ken of Galley Hill ; 
 
 Last, marking — as the evening wore — 
 The eastward star, high Fairlight's mill, 
 
 And the soft curve of lowly shore, 
 The foam-girt foot of Galley Hill.
 
 A HI.' in ■ i llll I 15 
 
 \ikI round our homeward Blow return 
 
 The hues of Bunse4 deepened, till 
 ArreBted fancy might discern 
 \ glory upon Galley Hill ! 
 
 No hack, err v.t the BplendoUT waned. 
 
 Nut dreaming, we, of change or ill : 
 Alas ' thai very nighl it rained, 
 Like— Midsummer, on Galley Hill.
 
 16 
 
 A TRACT FOR BAYSWATER. 
 
 {House of Lords, April 30, 1861. Hall v. Warren. This was an appeal 
 from the Court of Chancery, respecting the will of William Hall, deceased, 
 formerly of Bayswater. It was a very peculiar document, written in such 
 utter defiance of the rules of grammar and orthography, that it could scarcely 
 be understood. However, his intention was to leave certain real property 
 to found a lying-in-institution at Bayswater, for the use of the unmarried 
 ladies in that locality. The Court of Chancery had decided that the 
 charitable bequest was bad under the Mortmain Act, and their Lordships 
 confirmed the decree.) 
 
 Frailty suburban, addicted to roam 
 
 In the shadow of Kensington's Garden-wall, 
 
 You have lost a friend, and an extra home — 
 Rest to the soul of William Hall ! 
 
 Far from that promenade, rhymer remote — 
 (I might almost as well be at Port Natal) — 
 
 I long for more than the scrap I quote 
 Reveals of the life of William Hall. 
 
 What was the hue of his eyes and hair, 
 Whether his stature was short or tall, 
 
 I know not ; nor if, in the flesh, he e'er 
 Chatted and whispered along that Avail. 
 
 But he felt for you, daughters of Eve, who well 
 May rue the blight of the primal fall ; 
 
 He 'd an ear for the tale you 've too oft to tell — 
 For your sorrows and straits — this Mr. Hall.
 
 A TRACT FOR HAYSW.VI 17 
 
 An asylum meet he designed for you ; 
 
 For unwed mothers a house of call, 
 (Where the visitors stay a month or two,) 
 
 Was ilif kindly project of William Ball. 
 
 Thus a will declared which In- drew himself, 
 Embittered with anti-legal gall, 
 
 Ami over cunning to save his pelf — 
 
 • A fool for his client' had William Hall ; 
 
 Ami his grammar ami spelling were such as might 
 
 A national schoolboy well appal : 
 As for commas and stops, ho ignored them quite— 
 
 They were all the same to William Hall. 
 
 Sir legal wit, with discretion wide, 
 
 lateur work ever glad to maul,) 
 I rpsets the bequest, ami has nullified 
 The pitiful purpose of William Hall. 
 # * * 
 
 Pause, heedless votaries, pause, ami mend 
 Your wandering ways ere worse b< fal: 
 
 Beware, lesl yours be the sorry end 
 Of this poor blundering Mr. Hall — 
 
 To '"' 'set aside' when youth has flown, 
 
 Ami the once bright eye no more enthrals: 
 You've each of you, surely, a will ofyOUT own — 
 
 Think of the fate of William Hall's. 
 
 B
 
 18 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 AT THE FUNERAL OF A FRIEND. 
 
 (FROM CODNT ZINZENDORF'S MORAVIAN HYMNS.) 
 
 O Tnou, our day-spring from on high, 
 Whom this our brother felt so nigh 
 That Grace seemed beckoning him to die, 
 Whose mercies so abound! 
 
 Amazing goodness, Lord, we see 
 In all Thy acts ; but chiefly we 
 Now thank Thee for the peace which he 
 In the dark valley found — 
 
 For hope assured, in hearts opprest, 
 That our lost comrade with the Blest 
 Was numbered, ere his lasting rest 
 Within this hallowed ground.
 
 19 
 
 THE EXILE'S HYMN AT DEPARTURE. 
 
 Wi.l ., OME, in < rOd'8 hallowed name. 
 
 Persecution, 1"' her aim 
 Covert shaft, or open shame. 
 
 Dark the road and Bore to tread. 
 Yet shall lighi and balm be shed: 
 Martyrs He hath ever led. 
 
 On! I follow willingly: 
 Who would Thy disciple be 
 From his croe musl m-\ er 
 
 Like Thy chosen Jacob, come 
 
 Stall' in hand. I turn from hom( . 
 ( her alien plain- to roam. 
 
 Poor and broken, hero I Btand: 
 Father, let me feel Thy hand. 
 Like him, in a better land.
 
 20 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE JEROME. 
 
 (FROM A FRENCH PRIZE POEM.) 
 
 August, 1860. {Appendix, p. 41.) 
 
 Blind pedants, cannot ye perceive 
 ' Twere better policy to leave 
 
 A grave like this alone? 
 Would ye wake Clio to illume 
 The legend of so base a tomb, 
 
 Such memories to enthrone? 
 
 Our sages silenced, how can we 
 But sigh for fair Democracy, 
 
 And from the Purple turn? 
 Be sure a fettered student shall 
 Of Lucan, and of Juvenal, 
 
 And of our Hugo learn. 
 
 Yes, we await the stroke of doom, 
 The hour so sure, though slow, to come 
 
 For burning hearts at last — 
 The hour retributive, when France, 
 Up- springing from a shameful trance. 
 
 Shall dare recall her Past.
 
 UN Tin: DEATH OF iiilN. i; JEROME. J i 
 
 Know, that for brighter, happier di 
 We jealously resen e our la] -. 
 
 'J'" old traditions true: 
 I [aply we fount among as those 
 Whose sires by urrforgotten foes 
 
 Were sacrificed to you. 
 
 So while this tottering roof we mourn, 
 Ami to a drift-weed Beaward borne 
 
 Recite a forced adieu, 
 While garlanding a cipher's head. 
 We musl disturb the mighty dead 
 
 Who fell at Waterloo. 
 
 We cannot choose, brave shades — we musl 
 
 With songs approach your sacred dusl 
 
 To honour a Jerome! 
 For that impure old phantom we 
 Perforce invade reluctantly 
 
 The quiet of your tomb. 
 
 Sleep, (lead of Waterloo, nor raise 
 Those Lifeless lids, which al such praise 
 
 Could Open hilt tO weep: 
 
 For your grand fellow-hip unmeet 
 The touch of this foul winding-sheel — 
 Sleep, vanquished heroes, sleep!
 
 22 ON THE DEATE OP PRINCE JEROME. 
 
 You served a hated tyrant — true; 
 But History records that you 
 
 Rushed joyously to die: 
 We, wretched yoke-fellows, to shame/ 
 March tamely on, and dare not claim 
 
 That stainless memory. 
 
 Peace to the dead, and to their graves 
 Still preaching to the hearts of slaves 
 
 From out their mother Earth: 
 Watch we, obscure and separate, 
 The throes of Liberty, and wait 
 
 The long-expected birth. 
 
 And if this old ex-regal fool, 
 
 Who cowered beneath a leman's rule 
 
 But yesterday, must sleep 
 Minus a few extolling strains ; 
 The glory which the bard disdains 
 
 Belmontet's free to reap.
 
 
 E PIGB A M S 
 
 A lady's reply t" the advertisement of tin- ivrpetual Commissioner, I 
 St Leon urd's, " for taking acknowledgments of Deeds of Married Women." 
 
 Obliging solicitor, kindly alert 
 
 Willi the deeds of poor women to meddle, pray 
 Have you do London agent sufficiently pert 
 Of their husbands to ask how they revel ami flirt 
 
 (The wretches!) from Monday to Saturday? 
 
 At the annual meeting of the Genealogical and Historical Society, 1 
 ited that, when called to tin 1 Upper Bonse, he had tl 
 adopting for his motto Mure (!) 'juid nitidivt. (limes, July, 18, HGO.) 
 
 Sadly green, my Lord, even in thought, 
 'I'o ask, of one's self, i/nid nitidius ; 
 
 But tli" man who could mention it ought 
 To be ticketed quid viridius.
 
 24 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 On the committal of a gentleman accused of intermarrying with a lady 
 named Annie, his first wife, Hannah, being still alive. 
 
 A shocking disease is a conjugal huff, 
 
 But the remedy's worse, (or, at least, very rough, 
 
 And what cockneys denominate vi'lent), 
 To change — having sounded your H long enough — 
 From Hannah to Annie, and then, wretched muff, 
 
 To find that your H wont be silent ! 
 
 On the presentation to Lord Elgin, on landing at Dover, April 11, 1861; of an 
 address from the Mayor and Corporation, read by their Town Clerk, 
 Mr. Knocker. 
 
 Take, Corporate Dover, a bit of my mind, 
 
 Nor deem me a trivial mocker : 
 When your guest has just been in a cabin confined, 
 
 You 'd much better tie up your Knocker.
 
 GRAMR 
 ota, take those lips away :' 
 
 a foul-mouthed Scotch publican, of Peckham,irho wasconrlcted (to the I 
 of forty shillings) 'ofabualve and Insulting assured the --ittinK 
 
 trate that, 'if he had to be bora again, lie would choose Scotlai 
 rthplace.' (Tlmee, Way 23, 1881.) 
 
 Rejoice, land of Knox! here's a bod of 'yer ain'— 
 
 A Scot in invective excelling — 
 Of his birthplace so proud, you can have him again 
 For re-parturition! Meanwhile, would you deign 
 
 To coax him to make it his dwelling ': 
 
 • The pangs of his crucifixion may have been finally ftlt.' 
 (Cardinal fFuemm't Pastoral, on the position of the Pope. April 2S, 1861.) 
 
 Ykkv well— if your Eminence think it discreet — 
 Though the Vicar contrives tooutlive them; 
 
 But the parallel. Cardinal, isn't complet< — 
 We're waiting tor 'Father, forgive them:'
 
 26 
 
 SCRAPS OF BURLESQUE. 
 
 Air.— The King shall enjoy liis own again. 
 
 Who could predict, when last we met 
 At Christmas time, such a deal of wet ? 
 I believe I've got the use of my eyes, 
 And, to some extent, can read the skies ; 
 
 But I certainly was floored — 
 
 All accustomed signs ignored — 
 And attempting to be weatherwise was all in vain: 
 
 Good Gracious, how it poured! 
 
 And the thunder, how it roared ! 
 May we never see the like of that rain again ! 
 
 Yet it wasn't a time to do Blackwall, 
 Or, in fact, to go out anywhere at all ; 
 And no end of gold and silver was saved, 
 In the shape of dinner excursions waived; 
 And the sweet perfume 
 Of the sewers didn 't come, 
 And the scent of Father Thames, too, wasn 't quite 
 so plain • — 
 And very likely we, 
 Next August, may agree 
 That London would be sweeter with the rain again!
 
 -'7 
 
 DIDACTIC. 
 
 The precepi we ourselves of value find 
 
 Should be imparted freely to mankind; 
 
 The man whose steeds plump sides and sleeky coate g< I 
 
 ('.•m' i ask too often, Do you bruise your oats vet? 
 
 ON THE FAILURES IN THE LEATHEB 
 
 TRADE. 
 
 " Nothing like leather" — so the fable read, 
 
 Till pliant paper volunteered instead: 
 
 Now, Leather's so like nothing in it- gains, 
 
 The maxim son- in Bermondsey obtains, 
 
 That he wlm goes — though seemingly through clover — 
 
 Ton of! to Overend ends in going over. 
 
 SOLILOQUY OF A BAFFLED TYRANT. 
 An me! we princes have been lately taught 
 
 To pause, when doing what we didn't ought: 
 
 There is a way to make a tyrant meeker — 
 The Red Shirt's proved The Genuine Eureka.
 
 28 
 
 1835—44. 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY, 1835, AT ELSTREE, HERTS. 
 
 Full pleasant was the jocund talk, 
 Which, yestereve, that lonely walk 
 
 So shortened and beguiled; 
 And pleasant was the ample trace 
 Of welcome at our resting-place, 
 Where ruddy fire and cordial face 
 
 Both hospitably smiled. 
 
 But fairer sight and deeper joy 
 The senses and the heart employ, 
 
 This bright and beauteous morn! 
 To him " in populous city pent, 
 Forth issuing" on enjoyment bent, 
 ' Twould seem miraculously sent, 
 
 And of enchantment born. 
 
 No snow has fallen since our eyes 
 Were closed last night, nor thickly lies 
 
 On hill and plain and tree — 
 Yet is Dame Nature clad in white, 
 (As if prepared for festive rite,) 
 Which shows, in heaven's unclouded light, 
 
 Most clear and silvery.
 
 CHBISTMA8 DAT, L836, \Y BMTEBB, HERTS. 29 
 
 Frost-wrought reality! how pale, 
 How poor t<> thee Arabian tale, 
 
 ( \t dream of fairy land ! 
 From loftiest elm t<> lowliest blade, 
 The landscape ia in gems arrayed 
 ( )f matchless lustre, and inlaid 
 
 With "sweel and cunning hand." 
 
 Meet aspect for the earth to wear 
 On this the high day of the year, 
 
 This solemn holy-day — 
 Fit garb wherein to celebrate 
 The birth of the Immaculate, 
 Of Him who, greatest of the great. 
 
 In humblest cradle lay. 
 
 I would that all who see this hour 
 The goodness of Almighty power 
 
 In this fair scene displayed. 
 Might feel its influence, and know 
 Thai peace -which cities ne\r bestow 
 So may IIi> kingdom coiiie, and so 
 Ilis law of Love he here below 
 
 Known, honoured, and obeyed.
 
 30 
 
 SONNET 
 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CHARLES'S 
 
 MARTYRDOM: 
 
 January 30th, 1835. 
 
 Flag of my country! emblem of her power — 
 Her wide, hard- won dominion o' er the sea — 
 I better love to mark thee streaming free 
 
 From high mast-head, or floating from proud tower, 
 
 Than, as I now behold thee — in this hour 
 
 Of glad remembrance — to yon house of prayer - 
 Discordant ornament. What dost thou there? 
 
 What but denounce the hirelings who deflower 
 
 Religion of her purity, and wed 
 
 Her spotless truth to foul hypocrisy, 
 
 In honour of his name who justly bled, 
 The martyred saint of baflled bigotry. 
 
 Vain fraud! they cannot English hearts ensnare: 
 
 Milton and Hampden still are cherished there.
 
 31 
 
 PARAPIIKASK OF ST. .JOHN, XX. 1 — 17 
 
 Easter, 1836. 
 
 Ebe (he grey dawn had touched Judsea'e bills, 
 (The firsl day <>!' the week, ami third from that 
 
 Which saw tin' .Man of Sorrows crucified,) 
 
 Tlic tearful Magdalen arose, ami came 
 
 Onto 'I"' Saviour's lonely sepulchre, 
 
 And saw. with Bad amaze, the irrave-stone rolled 
 
 Hack from (he door. So tremblingly she ran 
 
 To Peter, and the young disciph — him 
 
 Whom Jesus loved— and cried, 'Our woe is full. 
 
 The Lord is taken from the sepulchre, 
 
 Nor know we where his body has been laid.' 
 
 Then went they forth, and. with the eager ha 
 
 of anxious love, together quickly ran. 
 
 And he whom Jesus, living, loved so well 
 
 Did outrun Peter, and first reached the grave. 
 
 He. stooping down, beheld the grave-clothes there. 
 
 Yet entered not ; but Peter, following, came. 
 And went into the sepulchre, where lay 
 The linen clothes in decent order spread. 
 The head-cloth separate: then he who first 
 Reached the tomb entered it. ami sadly saw 
 That it was tenantless, ami lie believed;
 
 32 PARAPHRASE OP ST. JOHN, XS. 1 — 17. 
 
 For yet they knew not Christ must t rise again, 
 And, in that resurrection, prophecy 
 Be from the first fulfilled. Then went away 
 Those two disciples sadly to their home. 
 
 But Mary left not with them : she, whose love 
 And steadfast gratitude had overcome 
 Her woman's weakness and cast out all fear, 
 Who shrank not from the horrors of the Cross, 
 And braved the scoffs and taunts of Calvary — 
 She, weeping, stood without, yet not as one 
 Of hope deserted utterly, but, strong 
 In her true heart's defiance of despair, 
 Still lingered at the grave of him she loved. 
 So, as she wept, she stooped to gaze once more 
 Into the sepulchre, when, seated there 
 At either end, two angel-forms appeared 
 In heavenly raiment clad, which questioned her, 
 ' Woman, why weepest thou?' And Mary said, 
 (Angelic radiance glistening through her tears,) 
 ' Because my Lord is taken from his grave, 
 Nor know I where the body has been laid.' 
 Here, breaking off in sobs, she turned and saw 
 Jesus regarding her, but knew him not. 
 He saith unto her, ' Woman, lone and sad, 
 Why weepest thou? Whom seek'st thou here?' 
 To him thus Mary, pensively, ' If thou 
 Have borne him hence, oh, tell me, Sir, that I 
 May take him from the place where he is laid.'
 
 PARAPHRASE OF BT. JOHN, XX. 1 — 17. 
 
 \ml -Icsii-, answered, 'Mary!' Then, amazed, 
 Willi beating heart and quivering lip, Bhe cried, 
 Rabboni!' bul he answered, 'Touch me not, 
 For I am not as j el ascended hence 
 1 Into my Father : to my brethren go 
 Ami say tliat to my Father I ascend 
 And yours — i" Heaven, and the God of all.' 
 
 FOR THE FIRST LEAF OF A SCRAP BOOK 
 
 .\ i. mber, 1835. 
 
 I'm fairest flow ers, on which the < \ • 
 Delighted gazes, fade and die, 
 Men emblems of mortality — 
 
 Types of all fair material things, 
 To which affection vainly clings — 
 Admonitory offerings. 
 
 From other, Lighter hearts than mine 
 Springs the glad impulse to entwine 
 So transient wreaths for Beauty's shrine 
 
 I rat her chose to cull for i hee 
 
 Sweet food for thoughl and memory— 
 
 The undj ing flow ers of Pot
 
 34 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 1838. 
 
 Bravely the lone old forest tree 
 
 Survives his leafy prime — 
 A relic of England's past is he, 
 
 A tale of her olden time : 
 He has seen her sons, for a thousand years, 
 
 Around him rise and fall, 
 But well a green old age he wears, 
 
 And still survives them all. 
 
 For a thousand years around that tree 
 
 The careless child has played ; 
 And the lover's voice sweet melody 
 
 Beneath his branches made ; 
 And many an old grey head found there 
 
 A balm for the care-worn brow: 
 They played, they wooed, they toiled — they share 
 
 The same cold slumber now. 
 
 The Norman Baron his steed has reined, 
 And the pilgrim his journey stayed, 
 
 And the toil-worn serf brief respite gained 
 Tn his broad and pleasant shade.
 
 STAN . 
 
 The Briar and forester loved it well, 
 Ami hither the jocund horn 
 
 Ami the Bolemn peal of the vesper bell 
 < )n the evening breeze were borne. 
 
 - 
 
 Friar and forester, lord and slave, 
 
 Lie mouldering, side by side, 
 In the dreamless Bleep of a nameless grave 
 
 Where revelling earth-worms hide; 
 Ami echo ao longer wakes at sound 
 
 ( )i' bugle <>r \ esper chime, 
 For the keep and the belfry are ivy-bound 
 
 By the ruthless hand of Time. 
 
 But gentle and few with the stout old tree 
 Have the Spoiler's dealings been, 
 
 And the brook, as of* old, is clear and free 
 And thr turf around as green. 
 
 Thus Nature has scattered on every hand 
 Her lessons since earth began, 
 
 And long may her sylvan teacher stand, 
 A check to the pride of man.
 
 36 
 
 SONG OF A RETURNED WANDERER, 
 
 1838. 
 
 Home of the early, careless years 
 Which once your wanderer knew 
 
 No face a smile of welcome wears 
 So tender and so true. 
 
 Familiar voices seem to sing 
 
 From wood and murmuring rill; 
 
 The sunshine of life's cloudless spring- 
 Is resting on you still. 
 
 Old times and scenes before me glide, 
 
 To pensive memory dear ; 
 My sister's form is at my side, 
 
 My mother's voice I hear. 
 Old sights and sounds with starting tears 
 
 Rough manhood's eyes can fill: 
 Ah! ye long-vanished, happy years, 
 
 Your spell is on me still!
 
 37 
 
 I\m Kll'TloN FOB THE GRAVE OF A CAT 
 
 I I ' .: \. O-DIDAI no.) I 
 
 Cate, like mankind, have differing lota in Btore; 
 Some Beauty's lap, and Bome the kitchen floor. 
 
 She, who below this rude memorial lies, 
 
 Ne'er fell the warmth of parlour sympathies. 
 
 To humbler sphere, from kittenhood, confined, 
 
 To the chance care of humbler hands resigned, 
 
 She meekly bore the unheeded exile's doom. 
 
 Nor deemed thai earth contained a drawing-room. 
 
 Yet costly couch her place might fitly be, 
 
 For Puss, though scorned, was very fair to sec; 
 
 Perfecl her form, and clad in glossiesl fur, 
 
 Graceful her mien, 'most musical' her purr; 
 
 Of temper tractable and aspect mild, 
 
 To her dull home serenely reconciled. 
 
 1 > 1 1 1 lived she not unseen, unknown, nor there 
 
 Wasted her sweetness <>n a desert air: 
 
 Little recked she of luxury or show — 
 
 Upstairs neglected, she was prized below, 
 
 And ever welcomed there with fond can 
 
 And pridet'ul looks, and words ot tenderni 
 
 And when, as evening closed, the guardian pan. 
 
 The kind providers of her ilaih fare, 
 
 Drew to the tire, from household duties frei 
 
 Italia'- greyhound not more blest than she.
 
 38 INSCRIPTION FOB THE GRAVE OF A CAT. 
 
 But Fate decreed her an untimely end — 
 Sad as feline biographer e 'er penned — 
 From miscreant hand unknown, fell poison's power 
 Smote and o'ercame her in a single hour. 
 (So the lorn gossips murmur o'er their tea, 
 Though no post-mortem solved the mystery.) 
 Thus closed poor Puss her blameless, brief career, 
 Without a will, yet not without a tear. 
 
 Slight not the sorrow in that tear confessed, 
 Deem not the memory of a brute unblessed. 
 No selfish interest its influence aids, 
 No self-reproach its quietude invades. 
 And a yet holier link should still remain, 
 Though Reason triumph, and Affection wane: 
 Creatures of God, oh, let us not disclaim 
 A common origin and kindred name; 
 The meanest creature still His hand declares, 
 Fulfils His purpose, and His bounty shares; 
 Object and portion of Almighty plan, 
 Which heeds the sparrow, as it cares for Man.
 
 3$) 
 
 INSCRIPTION FOB A SUN DIAL 
 1844 
 
 Creature of God, I whisper not alone 
 
 The sunny Imur thou fondly deem'sl thy own. 
 
 List: in this shadowed line the boundary lies 
 
 Of Pasl mid Future — two Eternities.
 
 40 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 Page 5. 
 
 From the Times, December 15, 1860. 
 
 Sodthwark Police Office.— Mr. Combe said that he 
 perceived an entry of a woman, name unknown, charged 
 with being drunk and incapable. He asked the reason 
 why she had not been brought before him in the usual 
 way. 
 
 Sergeant Kackstraw said, that unfortunately the poor 
 woman died shortly after her arrival at the Station-house. 
 Prior to that, she was insensible, and consequently they 
 were unable to ascertain her name and address. 
 
 Constable Perrin said he saw the woman lying on the 
 pavement, in the Cornwall Road, Lambeth, shortly after 
 one o'clock that morning. Her face was downwards and she 
 was quite insensible. He removed her to the step of a door, 
 and, finding her in a very bad state, conveyed her to the 
 Station-house, when the Divisional Surgeon attended, and 
 pronounced life to be extinct. 
 
 Mr. Combe asked if anything was known of her. 
 
 The constable replied that he believed she gained a 
 precarious subsistence by selling pencils from public-house 
 to public-house. He heard that she had been turned out 
 of one, quite drunk, at twelve o'clock, near the spot. 
 
 Mr. Combe marked the sheet off, "Died at the Station- 
 house."
 
 IIX. 
 
 Page 20. 
 
 From the AruiiNKi m, An,/. 
 It is now stated that those pupils of the Palais Soi-bonn--. 
 who most i ically p ' it the taai 
 
 writing a prize | m in praise of the late Prince Jerome 
 
 have been expelled. To no purpose, we are inclined to 
 think ; for the c tions of this pliant minority an 
 
 .n more hostile to the Second of Deceinl>. r 
 than the decided refusal of the expelled. Tho folio? 
 
 ment of one of the prize-poems signalizes, in a 
 characteristic way, the spirit of the present youth of 
 France : — 
 
 Vousne comprenez pas qu'il eut6te plus sage 
 Ue laisser reposer cet homme en son tombeau ! 
 Vous voulez que prenant cette vie au passage, 
 La muse de l'histoire y porte son flambeau ! 
 
 Vous ne comprenez pas que nos veilles muettes 
 Ontdechacun de nous Gut un republicain, 
 Que nous BUpportonB mal nos fers, que nos poetc- 
 Ce sont les Juvenal, les 1 1 ugo, les Lucain. 
 
 Oui, nous attendons tous, le ccour plein d'esperam 
 L'liouio si desiroc et si leute a venir, 
 L'heure du grand reveiL I'heure sainte ou la France 
 Ello aussi du passe voudra se souvenir. 
 
 Vousne comprenez pas que pour Irs jours pro 
 Nous reservons nos chants avec un soin jaloux ; 
 Qu'il en est parmi nous peut-etre dontles pei 
 Furent sacrifies par 70s maitres, a vous! 
 
 D
 
 42 APPENDIX. 
 
 Done a propos d'un toit effondr<§ qui s'ecroule, 
 D'un debris surnageaut qui tombe au fond de l'eau, 
 A propos d'un zero disparu de la foule. 
 II faut parler de vous, 6 morts de Waterloo ! 
 
 II faut parler de vous parce qu'un vieux fantQme 
 Vivant a peine bier, pourrit, sinistre et seul : 
 II faut aller troubler a propos d'un Jtirorne 
 La paix de votre gloire et de votre linceul ! 
 
 O morts de Waterloo ! dormez dans la pouissiere ! 
 Heros ne rouvrez pas vos yeux inaninies, 
 II n'est rien de commun entre votre ame altiere 
 Et ce vieillard impur. O grands vaincus, dormez ! 
 
 Vous serviez un tyran, l'bistoire en tiendra compte ; 
 Mais a la niort, joyeux, vous courriez a grands pas ! 
 Nous qui, portant le joug, marchons droit a la honte, 
 A votre souvenir nous n'insulterons pas ! 
 
 Paix aux cadavres ! paix aux tombeau qu'on nous laisse. 
 Nous recueillant dans 1 'ombre et dans l'aust^rite' 
 Pr6parer a l'eeart, sans peur et sans faiblesse, 
 Le long onfantement de notre liberte ! 
 
 Et s 'il faut au vieux roi qui dort aux Invalides, 
 Vieux fou qu'hier encore sa maitresse battait, 
 Quelques vers bien frappes, quelques hymnes splendides, 
 Nous en laissons la gloire a Monsieur Belmontet ?
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 m a,, A i in ■ September - s , 1 
 
 A French Correspondent wishes I bhe following 
 
 ■■■in. nt on the subject of the i I , ize poem the 
 
 circumstances conneoted with whii . ed so much 
 
 emotion in Paris, and surprise elsewhere : — 
 
 "Parti, Sepi 1,1860." 
 
 ■■ Allow nit! to give you a few details respecting the prize 
 a on Prince Jerome, which was published in the Athe- 
 naeum of the - J"jth of August. The Rector and I'm lessors 
 of the Paris University are the functionaries whose busi- 
 
 it is to choose the subjects for several prizes annually 
 competed for by the head pupils of the different colleges. 
 These gentlemen, anxious to show their zeal in behalf of 
 a Government to which they owe their situations, \ 
 injudiciously selected the ' Death of Prince Jerome ' as 
 the theme for the compositions in Latin versification. 
 As ought have been expected l'rom a concourse of lads 
 whose fathers belong to any of the half-dozen political 
 parties at present existing in France, a certain number of 
 pupils refused to compete. One of them, however, (the 
 son of a Pole, whose political tendencies have brought 
 about his banishment both from his native country and 
 from France), instead of writing a copy of Latin vei 
 
 up a poem in French, part of which was published iri 
 the number of the Athenaeum above referred to. It is 
 much to be regretted that the Government thought lit to 
 inflict very severe punishment on this misguided, perl 
 but certainly most talented youth, lie has not only 1 
 
 lied from the College to which he belongs, but he 
 can no longer lie admitted to any other college or to any oi 
 the 'Special So] ach as the Ecole de Droit, the 1" 
 
 de M6decine, the Ecole Polytechnique, &c. This practii 
 precludes the possibility of his following any of the
 
 44 APPENDIX. 
 
 ' liberal ' professions in France. The pupils who refused to 
 compete were not expelled from their respective colleges ; 
 they were simply denied the privilege of competing for 
 any other prize. The Minister of Public Instruction and 
 Worship is, probably, responsible for this unmerited 
 severity. The Emperor cannot personally have authorised 
 a measure so calculated to diminish what popularity 
 he may have. Here is a fact, which happened a few years 
 ago, analogous to the above ; but which was attended with 
 far different results. A pupil of the College de Sainte- 
 Barbe, now a rising and well-known author, was com- 
 petitor for the prize in French composition. The subject 
 chosen was ' Napoleon III.' As in the present instance, 
 many pupils refused to compete. He, however, wrote an 
 essay, remarkable both for its style and spirit, but quite 
 the reverse of laudatory. A few days afterwards, the 
 first prize was awarded to him. Having the honour to be 
 personally acquainted with the gentleman in question, 
 I can vouch for the authenticity of the above. Every one 
 is at liberty to extract from it the moral he pleases."
 
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