"PR ^ mmm s^t^s\\'^^\':^■^^^<^'.v^^'<^^x^-:;^;s^' GWFim'E. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES POEMS AND BALLADS. POEMS AND BALLADS PRYCE GWYNNE " \VT,a+<^' Whate'er is lovely is diviue."— i?«r;o;,. T. riSHEE UNWIN MDCCCLXXXIII. VH.I. BUOrnEUB. THE CKE.U.M PKESS. CHH-WOnTU AK. LOXDOM. PR CONTENTS. THE TERRORS OF NIGHT LONG AGO . SONG TO PSYCHE . ELEGEIA's REQUEST . BEFORE THE STATUE A DREAM OF ENDYMIOX SONG TO ALICE HAJIILTON ONCE UPON A TIME HYIIN TO POETRY . THE GLOAMING HOUR . A DAMNED WORLD . PICTURES PAST AND PRESENT THE TOKEN TO E. E. E. . A MIDSUMMER NIGHT . TERRA POETARUM . THE TRYST IN THE DELL . PAGE 7 15 17 20 24 31 35 37 3D 43 47 50 53 57 GO 86882.1 6 CONTENTS. PAGB THE WANDERER SPRITE (j'J ACKNO^YI.EDGMENT TO 71 THE painter's PUNISHMENT 72 THE PREDICTION 81 BENIGHTED 82 TO ELEGEIA 8G A PRELUDE 89 SLUMBER 92 THE HAMLET IN THE VALLEY 93 THE NOTHINGNESS IN EVERYTHING .... 97 CAMBRIA 101 THE ANSWER lOG FAR AWAY 108 CANZONET Ill HOPE AND FEAR 113 POETA NASCITUR NON FIT 115 THE TEBBOBS OF NIGHT. JH ! we laugh by day at the fears by night, AVhen the soul is gay and the skies are bright, Unheeding the sound of the noontide chime, Or the rustling wings of the vampire Time ; Tor only by night, in the stillness drear. Their fluttering sounds in the wakeful ear. Like the conch tid shell's monotonous monn. Or the drowsy hum of the beetle's tone. Though this in the golden noon appears To be but the " musick of the spheres," But at eve — ah ! at eve — when the sun sinks down, And the mystical gloaming buries the town, 8 rOEMS AND BALLAD.S. Where the quaint oUI ^abk-s midway meet, And totter and nod o'er the bouldcrcd street ; Ah ! why do \\c peer in the deepening gloom That hirks in the nooks of the lonely room, As the glare of the firelijjjlit faints and falls. And the shadows steal o'er the wainscot walls. Like thoughts o'er the brain, and lines o'er the brow, "When WL' feel they are there though we know not how. Oh, what are these terrors that night conceals, "Which the mind repels, which the spirit feels — These vague, evolving things which seem The beings that haunt a dreadful dream ? Say what are they, and the mystic notes That come from the shadows' shapeless throats, As if viewless garments were trailing o'er The precincts of the days of yore, Though we know not if there be really a sound. Save the echo of heart a thought has found. But we laugh no more, but while we muse, "We say that it is but the falling dews POEMS AND BALLADS. As they drip from the trees so sad and still ; Or the song of the distant purling rill, As it wanders among the dewy bells That nod in the dreamy woodland dells. But when from her cloudy couch the moon Uprising steals, in her silvery *shoon, Far over the shadowy wildwood bowers, And over the ruins' crumbling towers, And the creeping winds awake and pass From their haunts in the tangled river grass And the dreary fens and the dark morass ; Oh then their uneasy, whispering moans Evoke from our spirits responsive tones, "While the moonlit arras sways and sways Till the armed figures their bucklers raise. And the eyes of the pictures draw like fate, And follow the orbs they fascinate. Or direct their gaze towards a ghastly bust That gloats in a niche in a shroud of dust. With a mocking smile in its face and eyes. As the black-winged clouds flit over the skies. And the expiring taper flickers and flares. 10 POEMS AND UALLADS. "While the night suspiring wears and wears, Hanging o'er heart and moisturelcss eye, Like an omiuons, dark, ill-omened sky, Till we feel that our feet would bear us away, But something binds them and bids us stay. Impalsying then weird musick rolls Through the cavernous depths of our fearful souls, And we feci that though lonely we are not alone, For a presence evolves from the night's dark throne. Which narrows in circles, o'ercomiug the will, And weaving around us its meshes of ill. Till our spirits, like birds, draw nearer and near To the reptile of terror we feel and fear ; A terror which is not a vulgar dread. But a fear the nervous never have fled, A terror weird and ne'er defined. Subtle and viewless as poisoned wind That floats above some fetid sea. Or stagnates 'neath the upas tree : A ghastly, shapeless, nameless fear, Evolved from regions lone and drear. POEMS AND BALLADS. 11 From where eternal midnight sleeps Under the ocean's central deeps, From where dread Lethe's turgid waves E'er welter through the abysmal caves, From every dark unhallowed spot That Eblis owns and God knows not. LONG AGO. HEx\E sad musick loud and long Upswcll in every poet's song ; I see a crowd in every street E'er seek the peace it ne'er shall greet, Since that, with all sweet things, we know "Was lost with Eden long ago. Free agents we whose lives begin By being conceived and born in shi ; We cannot live free from this ill, But, living, must the curse fulfil ; But sin and battle, this we know, Began in heaven long ago. POEMS AND BALLADS. 13 Now round the heart, that living shrine, Memorial tendrils intertwine ; The flower-like hopes that made it gaj^ Uneasy winds have blown away ; I prized them once, but now I know Their loveliness was long ago. • Then give me sleep, I am athirst. For Memory's waters are accurst. I long for that Lethean stream Whose waters quaffed I should not dream Of all that was, nor wake to know That river perished long ago. Yet could my days be still serene. Could I forget whate'er has been, Or hope restore my spirit's power, As rain revives a dying flower ; For only this I would not know. The region men call Long Ago ; 14 POEMS AND BALLADS. "\\ liicli is \Yliorc reedy grasses wave In tufts above the lonely grave ; "Where none \Yill sigh though many pass. Save winds that rustle through the grass ; And even they, in accents low, Will ever whisper — Long ago. SONG TO PSYCHE. )0, weary sprite, outspeed the niglit, And seek the land of dreams, Whose cloudy light is lest the sight Be blinded by its streams, That wash the walls of magic halls, Whose forms for ever change ; Though each enthrals the glance that falls. Upon its fabric strange. There, unlike ours, the domes and towers. Ne'er echo sorrow's moan ; Nor are its bowers of starry flowers Ephemeral like our own. IG rOEMS AND BALLADS. For si)ring pervades that land of shades, And elfins bright and fair, By cool cascades "\;\'ithin its glades, Bedeck their golden hair, Or mount the skies with luittcrflies, Whose iris-tinted wings Then gently rise to Paradise, "Where Poetry plays and sings. For elves are souls (whom Love controls) Escaped from earth but late ; "Where over scrolls and rouleau rolls Sit envy, hope, and hate. Then hence and meet with guerdon sweet, And never pale Pegret ; For though so fleet she cannot beat Thy powerful pinions yet. ELEGEIA'S BEQUEST. " I feel the flowers growing over me." — Keats. HAVE loved all loveliness More than tongue could e'er express. Surely 'twould not grant me less Than a lovely grave. Little boots it where I go, Still in life 'twere sweet to know The promise which I crave. It will be the latest day I shall trouble those who stay, Therefore let me have my way. 2 18 POEMS AND BALLADS. Take me far from haunts of men, Where the ferns grow green and cool, And the stars peer in the pool, Lying in some wooded glen. In a wood then let me lie, ^Vhere the runnel ripples nigh, And the hreezes wander by With a dii-geful melodie. Graven urn nor storied tomb Shall I need within its gloom. Epitaph nor elogie. Glow-worms shall be lamps for me. Dirges chaunt the drowsy bee. Incense rise from shrub and tree, Swaying gently all around ; For a woodland draped in dew. Where the wild-birds warbling woo. Holier is than holy ground. POEMS AND BALLADS. 19 Toll for me no iron bell ; Water tumbling down the dell, Echo weaving many a spell, Have a deeper tone and power ; Softer than the requiem's strain Fall the murmurs of the rain On the silence of that hour. Weep not either o'er my bed : Nodding flowers above my head Plenteous tears o'er me will shed. Never weep then, friends, for me ; All regrets for those no more, And the memories of yore, Time shall soften unto ye. BEFOBE THE STATUE. BEAUTY, art thou but a dream Whose wings awhile on earth are furled Ere spreading in the brighter beam Of some more highly favoured world ? I know not but all men may find Thy shadow still in things accurst ; But if thou art, 'tis from the mind Of Him above who dreamt thee first. Before thy statue standing here, Oh, how I tremble ! Tired and lone To me, as to Pygmalion dear, I almost wish it changed from stone ; For in its faultless form and face. POEMS AND BALLADS. 21 And looped and braided wavy tress, And snowy limbs and matchless grace, There is unearthly loveliness : That loveliness which is to me As some wild musick soft and low, Such as the syrens chaunt at sea By coral reefs ere tempests blow. Its dreamy beauty re-illumes My memory to Ida's groves, Embowered amid empurpled glooms. The dreamland where my spirit roves. nereid goddess from the foam, Though one should paint with master hand. As did the bards of Greece and Rome, Thy praises to this castled land. Which never was a classic isle. Set like a gem in sparkling seas, No region where the columned pile Doth moulder bowered in ancient trees ; But modern Carthage, strong and cold: Not colder is thy statue now. Oh, 'twould not listen. Schemes for gold 22 POEMS AND BALLADS. For ever occupy its brow. The classic lands that worshipped thee It says were heathen in its pride : The Golden Calf it tvill not sec Is monstrous by thy statue's side. But some there are who feel thy sway, Who haunt these years of garish light. To whom thou art not day by day A dream to please the idle wight. Of these some live in rush and riot, And some in meads of asphodel, And some in manors dim and quiet. And wheresoever man may dwell. But to the wanderer in the mist That aye distils a tearful dew, Thine eyes are stars of amethyst, The beacons of the distant view. Where, on each upland lawn and lea, Made musical by sinuous rills, The moly and anemone Are blooming for unconquered wills. To only these Renown shall give POEMS AND BALLADS. 23 The wreath of amaranthine flower, And only those by death shall live Who wield the shadow of thy power. Then help me, goddess, help me now ; Before me stands thy statue lone. And to its loveliness I bow : To thee — to Beauty, not to stone. A DBEAM OF ENDYMION. N my chamber, when Maytime ^\a8 over, I sat gazing out at the sky, And the wolds of the sweet-scented clover, And furrows of upshooting rye. All around me lay books in confusion, The shrubberies swayed in the wind, And night seemed a lovely illusion, Which suited my tenor of mind. Thus I gazed at the mystical number "When spirits have power o'er the soul, Till I passed by the portals of slumber. Aweary of reason's control, POEMS AND BALLADS. 25 To a region of sliadows and stories, Outstretcliing fi'om heaven to hell, Where the glooms are increased by the glories. Which nothing of earth can excel. Through the day I had studiously pondered O'er astral and planetry powers ; Now methought upon Latmos I wandered Through beds of somniferous flowers, Which upsprang all around me in legions, Exhaling a dreamy delight. While afar in the heavenly regions The stars glimmered faintly in sight. There I roamed when I chanced to discover A pallid but beautiful form, '"Tis a statue (I said) of a lover, O'erturned by the wind in a storm." But that moment dim radiance slanted Between the dark boughs of a tree, And I thought now this place is enchanted. For what may these mysteries be. 26 POEMS AND BALLADS. Then the beamiug grew brighter and nearer^ Discovering shadowy sheep, And the statue grew human and clearer, And seemed hut a shepherd asleep. And through vineyard and clustering coppice The musical rivulets ran, And the lethargic winds in the poppies Intoned then a ptean to Pan. While a sphere from the eastward upstealing Emerged in a halo of beams, To all Sahian watchers revealing The beautiful planet of dreams ; And the labouring breast of the sleeper, Upheaved with a tumult of sighs. And the pallor of Saturn grew deeper, The stars were withdrawn from the skies. So, bewitched by its beauty, yet fearing The magic it breathed o'er the place, I determined its hour of appearing. Its aspect proved love in its face, POEMS AND BALLADS. 27 Thus I knew why the dreamer was shaken, As leaves which the rain trickles through. Ah ! why did I ever awaken To doubt if the vision were true ? Then adown from that silvery aidenn, Extinguishing heaven above, In a mist came a beautiful maiden, The goddess of Beauty and Love, And inwound him about with her tresses, Unloosed by the speed of her flight. Till the poppies, who saw their caresses, With passion grew pallid and white. But now, as I watched them in wonder, I envied the shepherd at heart. Till he faded and melted asunder, As vapours that dwindle and part, As night, when the day doth supplant her, Is merged in the solary beams ; Yet I knew not the wizard enchanter Was Morpheus, the spirit of dreams. 28 POEMS AND BALLADS. Then a magical influence o'er me Discovered the change I desired, And I sighed to the spirit before me The passion her beauty inspired, As I whispered her, " Let us not sever, I offer thee labour and life. Let me soar to thy planet and never Eevisit this region of strife." Then she answered me softly, " mortal, For one yet encumbered with breath. Thou hast passed by the uttermost portal Ere reaching the barrier Death ; Still, to ramble within my dominions, The waters of Styx thou must brave ; No mortal has e'er spread a pinion That crossed not that terrible wave." Said I then, " beautiful Venus, I'll build thee a palace of flowers ; Stay here, and no shadow between us Shall darken these starlitten hours." POEMS AND BALLADS. 2& But she answered, " The planets are waning, And yonder is Mercury's ray, And the sign of the spectre remaining, Betokens the end of my stay." As she said it her murmurs grew weaker, Then melted away in a sigh, And I felt that the beautiful speaker Was soaring afar in the sky. And awaking I saw the Night's daughter Receding all pale o'er the lea, "While afar, in the opposite quarter, The sun rose aflame from the sea. Ah, the envious, jealous Aurora Had whispered to Mars of our bliss, Who sent then his messenger for her To beckon her up from my kiss. To her home in the lunary mountains. Whose silvery summits uprear From the beds of the scopulous fountains That cover that volcanic sphere. 80 POEMS IlSd ballads. But I dream every day of her beauty Though dwelHng in cities of men ; For I deem it, ah, more than a duty, To worship the beautiful then. And at night, from her regions immortal, She drapes me in silvery beams, Till I pass by a somnolent portal, And then she revisits my dreams. SONG TO ALICE HAMILTON. : HE RE FORE meet me sighing, onl}-, <('Vr1^ Darkness cannot mate "with light ; "Why, then, like Nyctanthus lonely, Breathe your spirit unto night ? Fly, yes fly, 'tis Folly's fashion ; Let me hence ; I know not love ; Tempt not thus with flowers of passion, Burning as the stars above. Spare, oh spare me, cruel blisses, Joy to-day to-morrow dies ; Prove me not with thrilling kisses, For I tremble at your sighs. 82 POEMS AND BALLADS, Look not thus nor say you love me ; Hush that music of your lips ; Veil those orhs like stars above me, Touch me not with fingor-tips. Oh, but hide your bosom's glancing ; Girl, unwind your snowy arms ; Do be less, ah ! less, entrancing, Ere I fall before your charms. Ha ! too late ! my heart is rifled ; Your enchantments prove too strong ; Resolution's maimed and stifled ; Tempstress, you have done me wrong. Now, alas ! what use were scorning ? Soon through coldness love would show. As do lavas without warning From the craters draped in snow. POEMS AND BALLADS. 33 Prudence — I no longer miss it ; Scornful mouth, be yours the blame, Curving now the while I kiss it, I the frigid priest of Fame. Yes, I feel the fire that thrills you. Sweet as purple spiced wine ; Oh, then, love me now love wills you ; Turn, oh ! turn, your lips to mine. Turn, I cannot make resistance ; Now I crave for your caress ; Love is such a new existence, Pleasure leaps where'er you press. 'Tis, oh ! 'tis, your beauty's doing But who would, who could refrain ? Love's reward is worth the ruing. Tempt me once, but once again, 3 84 POEMS AND BALLADS. Then, like dew upon tbe roses, I may slumber on your breast ; Dreaming tbat my soul reposes In tbe gardens of tbe blest. ONCE UPON A TIME. ^ES, once upon a time of grace, When magic dwelt in moony light, The queen of all the fairy race Bewitched my heart in playful spite Whilst roaming in the glens by night. How sweetly then she seemed to pass And dance, bedraped in lunar beams, Among the flowers that gemmed the grass, The flowers that murmured in their dreams Beside the cloudy falls and streams, 36 POEMS AND BALLADS. As if her beauty raised a thrill Of joy throughout their pensile stems, And shook their souls with music till The dews o'erflowcd in crystal gems From out their fragrant diadems. Thus my soul shook beneath her spell, Save which there was no joy to me, No softer secret in the shell, Nor wilder music in the sea, Or loveliness on earth to be. But that, alas ! w^as long ago ; Now all is changed in every glen ; The sorrow that now haunts me so. That fiend which time creates for men, I knew not was Love's shadow then. HYMN TO POETBY. IPIEIT of all beauty, aroma of all thought, Monitor of duty, never found though sought, Light o'er shadow falling at the evening's close, Merle and mavis calling ere they seek repose, Butterflies that wander (fairies d^dal steeds) O'er the flowers that ponder nodding in the meads, Light of flashing fountains in the groves of Ind, Cavern-threaded mountains haunted by the wind. Seas the sun forsakes not, boundless lands of wood, Joy remembrance shakes not, all that's grand and good, 38 POEMS AND BALLADS. Thou bast power to measure ; even things of ill Thou canst turn to pleasure if it be thy will. As a lovely islet cheers a lonely sea, As the hidden vi'let scents the fallow lea, As the starry spirits light the sunless skies, As sweet Beauty's merits comfort weary eyes, So thy sweet dominion gladdens darkened hours, Cupid's brightest pinion vies not with thy flowers ; Earthly musick blending harsh and empty seems To the wild transcending musick heard in dreams ; Musick thou hast fashioned in the poet's mind, Mystic and impassioned as the wandering wind. Ah, if we could ever half thy beauty see. Spirit earth could never steel a heart to thee ; But thy form were blinding to our eyes displayed, Seeking, seldom finding, we pursue thy shade. THE GLOAMING HOUB. STEALTHY, soothing, di*owsy iDower Pervades the dewy gloaming hour. The ghostly breezes haunt the room, The curtains rustle in the gloom ; Embathed in deep uncertain lights. The statues grow like living wights ; The roses loll, the mellow notes Of throstles die within their throats, And heavily the perfume lies Upon the purple underskies. The earth is hushed, we must be still The while this power o'ercomes the ivill. It comes — it comes with force intense 40 POEMS AND UALLADS. Mysteriously o'er every sense, To weave its spells and woo and win, With dreamy bells of cadence tbin, Wbicb peal witbin the listening ears The curfews of tbe fairy spheres. It comes, whUe on from shelf to shelf. Evolving ever from itself ; A dusky presence glooms the air, And lurketli vaguely everywhere. It comes with all the soul may feel, And tremble to, but ne'er reveal Such as we feel when waters slip And glide and trip, and drop and drip, Adown and down mid ferns that wave Within some cool fantastic cave. It comes to cloud the reasoning brain. Whose ceaseless logic turns to pain. And draw the veil from histories, That seem at noon but mysteries. When gazing with a careless eye Upon the deep cerulean sky ; The mote-like creatures in our view POEMS AND BALLADS. 41 "We idly deem to fancy due : We deem that nature has no boon More potent than a summer noon ; But oh, when slumber o'er us flings The shadow only of its wings, And midway weary nature seems Between the realms of thought and dreams — "We feel — we feel the mystic might That haunts this hour 'twixt dark and light. And in these mote-like creatures trace The presence of the airy race. So not for aught that noon could mete Would we, then, quit our quiet retreat. Nor break the poppied soothing charm Of our ecstatic state of calm, As sweet as moonlit lakes and leas That gleam thro' frail acacia trees. It is not life, it is not sleep ; It is not death, since none then weep ; It is the sweet untainted joy Of spirit free from its alloy ; It is the passion of the hour, • 42 POEMS AND BALLADS. The beauty haunting brake and bower, The -while the disembodied soul Escapes and soars from sin's control — Up, up, and up with dreamy might, Through swooning shadows of the night. A DAMNED WOBLD. " 111 my Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you."— John xiv. 2, OOK now through this wond'rous glass ere the hour of twelve shall pass, For a spectrum doth arise, visible to inner eyes. 'Tis, oh! 'tis, a sunless world, rolling through that nether space, "Where no comet e'er is hurled but which shapeless monsters trace, Ever changing to reform, like the vapours in a storm. 44 POEMS AND BALLADS. Aye, but see ! that world is bright, fountains cleave its skies with light, Like red lavas, lo, they bound spirally from mazy bowers. While the cloud-falls without sound roll through deep ravines of llowers. From a soaring mountain's crown till they eddy down and down Into gulfs so vague and deep that they terminate in sleep. 'Tis a world as strange as fair, ne'er a storm- wind thunders there ; But so faintly breezes blow round its wolds and valleys low. That the banners ne'er unfiu'l o'er its stately- columned halls. But around them vapours curl, while the dew so lightly falls That it seems but chains of gems garlanding the tulip stems. POEMS AND BALLADS. 45 'Tis a world as sweet as strange, yet the winged people range Over mountains, seas, and dales with unending, weary quest ; But no region e'er avails to afford them any rest. Yawning pits still seem to be under them where'er they flee ; Nothing there can make them feel anything save pain is real. Say what worlds can ever roll free from sorrow's ill control. Now the fieud hath set this sign in the universe divine, Every wind that fans the sky, every dew-drop of that sphere, Is engendered by a sigh and the falling of a tear : Every soul that enters there dies to all things save despair. 46 POEMS AND BALLADS. Gazing through this wondrous glass, thus I see that planet pass, Rolling through a region dread, far beyond the night and day, "WTiich the stars in terror fled in the ages passed away. When a curse upon it fell and that world became a hell, Poisoning the upper skies even unto Paradise. ^ PICTUBES PAST AND PBESENT. " Le crespe chiome d' or puro lucente, E '1 lampeggiar dell' angelico riso ; Che solean far in terra un paradise ; Poca polvere son che nulla sente."— Petbarch. !'EN as the cool and limpid stream Keflects the skies above, So once of yore a sleepless dream Eeflected scenes I love. Around me, then, the valley lay, Bedecked by bud and bell, And not a shadow night or day Athwart my pathway fell. 48 POEMS AND BALLADS. But far ahead the country smiled With more than earthly light, And phantasy my soul beguiled With dreams too wild to -UTite. Then Love allured me through her halls. Imbued by Beauty's power, Begirt by woods and waterfalls, And many a fragrant flower. While ever in the evening skies Uprose a double star, Which seemed a symbol to the eyes That worshipped it afar. But dreaming now, I gaze aghast Through twilights made by tears Upon a landscape, and the last Of all the coming years. POEMS AND BALLADS. 49 Around me now the vales I yiew, But blight is on the flowers ; And tearful drops descend, not dew, Upon the dying bowers. While Love's sweet halls in ruins lie, Beneath the seas of Time ; And if my soul with Fancy fly, 'Tis to some dismal clime. An ignis fatuus gleams at night To cheer the future's glooms, But never now the inner light Of hope my heart illumes. Before me life's a plain of sand. The past's a flood behind ; I seek in vain that miraged land No traveller yet did find. ^:i d>^^fe^^ THE TOKEN TO E. E. E. ALTHOUGH by this token I know, to my pain, That no more the vows spoken Our hearts shall enchain ; Yet my thoughts will for ever Eevert unto thee, As the tide in a river ReflowB to the sea ; For a thing in existence Is once and for aye. It will fade at a distance. But ne'er pass away. Thus in mind my devotion Aloncly now dwells. POEMS AND BALLADS. 51 As the murmurs of ocean Remain in its shells. But in mind, though it slumbers, It weighs on my soul. As the night-dev^ encumbers The flowers on the knoll. Ah, my heart is a zitter, This pledge is the bow ; But the tones they are bitter, And sound but of woe : Like the tone that outringeth By Orpheus' tomb, Where Philomel singeth A dirge for his doom. For I feel as I ponder O'er love's vanished hours. As we feel when we wander 'Mid dead summer flowers. But adieu, fickle rover. Go, roam like the bee, Xor waste a thought over My sorrow and me. 5li POEMS AND BALLADS. That my faith thou hast shaken In love I regret, Not that I'm forsaken And cannot forgot ; For my thoughts may for ever Eevert unto thee, But my heart it must never Regret that it's free. A MID8UMMEB NIGET. 'OST lovely is the mystic sphere Of this midsummer night, Dost thou not feel it, Lalla dear, With tremors of delight ? Dost thou not feel that Nature seems All woven clouds of shade, A land of loveliness and dreams To which our souls have strayed ? So silent is the solitude. So lone the loneliness, So weirdly wild yon forest rude. So sweet this dim i-ecess. 5-i rOEMS AND BALLADS. That all around allures and thralls Like some mysterious sweven,- That stretches out with fells and falls And merges Earth with Heaven. The landscape bathes, where'er we gaze, In subtle tints and shades, That mellow in the moony haze Of deep voluptuous glades. Where canopies of arching bowers Half hide and half reveal Their breathing banks of languid flowers Whose loveliness we feel. Say, is not this enchanted ground ? None sweeter is I wis ! The very odours breathe around A soft delirious bliss. Not e'en the angels up above Have dreamed a sweeter dell In which to whisper of their love Than this wherein we dwell. '•■ Obsolete word for " dream."' POEMS AND BALLADS. 55 Ah, what shall test the witching rest And passion of this hour, That sx)ealis in musick to the breast That trembles to its power ? The softest sound in bush or tree That dreams on bank and knoll, Floods far, far more sonorously Than thunder through the soul. Lo where the brooding shadows swoon And blend and palpitate, The ferns are drawing down the moon Like snakes that fascinate. See 'how they mingle with her hair And breathe upon her face. But let us go, the vapours there Are spreading to this place. Come in, come in, then, Lalla sweet, I fear the Naiad's breath ; For when a sprite and mortal meet It means that mortal's death. 66 POEMS AND BALLADS. Her icy robes will cliill thy veins, I feel them round me twine ; Oh ! hasten, hasten, ere she gains The life so linked to mine. TERBA POETARVM. I send you here a sort of allegoiy, for you will understand it. " Tennison. I^^^^NCE I sailed, in the prime of my happiest j^j^^^g^ lime, O'er an ocean unclouded by care, Till my bark touched the strand of a dream- haunted land, And so I went wandering there. All the things that there grew were enchanting to view, With them nothing of earth could compare. So that morning and night in my childish delight I sailed and went wandering there, 58 POEMS AND BALLADS. Far away in the shade, where the cataracts made Ne'er a sound on the Khimboring air, Through the shadowy bowers of aerial flowers Ever blooming for wanderers there. Then I met the strange race who inhabit the place, And in sorrow they bade me beware ; But the perfume intense of the flowers conquered sense, And again I went wandering there. Yet the right to remain I could never obtain. For the terms were but hard, looking fair. Few, oh, few, may abide where those spirits reside. Though many go wandering there. But, allured night and day, I went sailing away O'er an ocean as dark as despair. Till I ran with a shock on a treacherous rock, In my haste to go wandering there. POEMS AND BALLADS. 59 Now I dream evermore of that beautiful shore, Yet I warn you, my friends, have a care ; For the shell-spangled sand of that dream-haunted land Barely covers the skeletons there. THE TRY ST IN THE DELL. >i^^^^-^^S iu an isle volcanic Where j^oison blossoms blow,''' Where earthquakes scatter panic And woods of upas grow ; Where torrents feebly grumble In chasms dark and deep, Wherein they roaring tumble, And tumbling fall asleep. There in a dell all lonely Beside a small lagoon, Whose banks seemed haunted only By shadows and the moon ; ■■'■ Eaflleria Patma. In Java and Borneo, &c., there are flowers three feet across, pretty to the eye, but putrid to tlie emell. POEBIS AND BALLADS. 61 I once stood (partly dreaming) Beneath an amber tree, While Bula " sweetly beaming Peered through its leaves at me. But neither tree nor planet, Nor creepers swayed by wind, Nor torrents that outran it, Nor anything defined ; Oh ! not the chaos round me Of gorgeous, starry flowers, Had lured me there and bound me Within those lovely bowers. It was a something hidden Upon that island shore, Whose influence unbidden O'ercame me more and more ; For years, awake or sleeping, My soul had felt its spell. E'er urge me into keeping A tryst within that dell. -■•• Malay for " moou." 62 POEMS AND BALLADS. " Truth is more strange tlian fiction," I saiil, half fearful still, Though with a firm conviction That will had power o'er will. " What if some kindred nature By love's mesmeric might : Ah ! what, if some sweet creature Has lured me here to-night." Thus mused I there in wonder, In wonder blent with fear, When climbing creepers under Some footstep rustled near ; Methought a pard's, and started, When, oh ! to my delight, The flowers were gently parted By arms and shoulders white. The night was odour-laden. It seemed a lovely dream. As through the flowers a maiden Then passed mc like a beam, POEMS AND BALLADS. G3 And, beck'ning me to follow, Estreated through the Lowers, Her laughter ringing hollow 'Neath roofs of climbing flowers. " Thou art the will, the beaut}^ That's haunted me for years. That's drawn me from my duty, That's caused me many tears ; Then wherefore, wherefore, fly me (I cried) maiden mine ? No longer now deny me. My fate is linked to thine." Her laughter rang out colder From out the heavy bloom, Before me arm and shoulder E'er glimmered in the gloom ; And still her backward glancing Enticed me ever on. Through glades yet more entrancing, "Where gleams of moonlight shone. nj POEMS AND BALLADS. And then through woods more dreary, More rugged and rock-bound, 'Till, growing grieved and weary, I sank upon the ground ; When, pausing there before me, She sighed, and sweetly said, " Come, loved one, I implore thee! To prove thy love I fled. " Come where the flowers are sweeter I wait thee, loved one, here." And so I rose to greet her Within that woodland drear ; Still drearer, ever drearer, AVith every step I took, While lovelier and clearer Aye grew that maiden's look. Amongst the bushes swaying She stood all flushed and warm. Her robes deranged displaying A bust of faultless form ; POEMS AND BALLADS. 65 A bust that palpitated With passions burning free, The while her eyes dilated, Ah ! most mysteriously. I felt my spirit dwindle Beneath their burning might, And still they seemed to kindle And wax more large and bright ; They drew me with that feehng With which the cobra draws A bird around it wheeling Within its fetid jaws. I felt their magnetism With aye increasing dread, Down into some abvsm I seemed about to tread ; I moved, a thing mechanic, A puppet swayed at will, Drawn by a power galvanic, A mystic power of ill. 5 G6 POEMS AND BALLADS. T\'ith fear I recollected That when tlie will gives way, To wills by God rejected, The stronger grows their sway ; That unto faith is granted The power to move a tree, And have its roots transplanted TVithin the topaz sea. Thus, if this lovely stranger Had birth from my desire, She'd lure me into danger With love's voluptuous fire ; And if she were so fashioned, Her beauty would control And lure a heart impassioned To death to gain its soul. Such reasons sped like lightning Athwart my darkened brain, Like sunbeams ever brightening Through thunder-clouds and rain ; ■s POEMS AND BALLADS. Q] As pausing, fear-o'ertaken, I then adjured the fiend, Who stood, all passion-shaken, Where blossoms round her leaned ; Who stood vibrating slowly Amongst the radiant flowers, Which seemed like things unholy "W ithin those gloomy bowers ; Which seemed as seemed that maiden, As seems the dead sea fruit. Fair as— Al Gannat Aden ! *— When rotten from the root. Then said I, " Hence, demon. And haunt my heart no more ; No longer now thy leman, I leave this cursed shore. Once naught on earth could sever The spell I deemed divine ; But now no more — oh, never ! My will submits to thine. * The Garden of Eaen, vide Koran, j:). 57, 68 POEMS AND HALLADS. " The love tbat tempts with passion I loathe, abhor, detest ; Nor Creole nor Circassian Could rob me now of rest." Then peals of fiendish laughter Eang loudly in my ear, Like echoes from a rafter Piing out in mansions drear. And, starting back in terror, I tripped ; and as I fell. Lamenting much the error That yielded to that spell, Adown a gloomy alley There burst upon my ken The dark, dread upas '-''■ vallej*, Bestrewn with bones of men. * There is a poisoned valley' strewn with the skeletons of travellers in Java. The upas tree is supposed to be fatal to those who sleep under it. THE WANDEBEB SPBITE. "What? know ye not that your Loily is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own ? "—1 Cor. vi. 19. H'^j^O here a mansion strange and white, Built by immortal hands, Upon the earth a speck, a mite, Now lone and lovely stands ; And I, a wondrous roaming ivill, A dweller once of Mars, Have come to haunt this house until I'm called to happier stars. Once from red Mars' poppied plain, Through clouds that o'er it curled, Still striving, aching to attain, I gazed upon this world, '0 POEMS AND BALLADS. Till from a grosser mansion there I came to dwell in tins, A fairy fabric frail and fair, But where I find not bliss. Now through its tearful windows bright I gaze upon the skies, To watch far up within the night The planet Venus rise. And when this mansion shall decaj^ From age, or fall by fate, Then to that globe I'll haste away To some more blessed estate. brother spirits striving here, Death is more glorious birth ! Like me ye came from man}' a sphere To dwell awhile on earth ; From world to world we rise and roam, Ascendmg as we range : The clayey mansion is the home That crumbles while we change. ACKNOWLEDGMENT TO — i|HEN o'er my path the deepenmg gloom i Obscured Hope's starry ray, And Azrael sat beside the tomb To "wait me day by day, Thy loveliness, whereat my soul Now thrills in weal and woe, As day o'er night, upon me stole, And bade that darkness go. THE PAINTERS PUNISHMENT. " Thou sbalt have none other gods but me." HE trees are swaying in the uigbt, The clocks chime out the hour, Aud dreamily the lunar light Besilvers tarn and tower, And softly drapes these manor walls, Begirt by woods aud waterfalls, And many a leafless bower. But ah, how dim the light is here ! Like streams the shadows flow ; My minions creep about in fear ; The silence will not go. POEMS AND BALLADS. 73 Save when the echoes mock my tread, As if the garments of the dead Were trailing to and fro. Here stands the dusty vacant chair, There Hes the soundless lute, Sleepily broods the purple air, And all is cold and mute. All save within my listening ears, And there the " musick of the spheres " Is sighing like a flute. Oh, 'twas not thus in happier hours, When chaunted birds and bees Among the flowers and jasmine bowers That scented Heaven's breeze. Then Nature was a poetry book, Melodious as the meandering brook, And life was full of ease. 74 rOEMS AND B\LLADS. I thought but of sweet Lalla's eyes And dreams and joys to be ; But not, oh ! not to Paradise I bent my sinful knee. I loved to dream but not to pray, And burned for ever to pourtray The thoughts that haunted me. They were my heaven, and so I traced Upon a canvas fine My fancies and the features chaste That beamed with love in mine ; And every picture seemed to hint That something more, far more, than tint Pervaded each design. Then oft we sought the woods at noon, And there I sketched my themes ; And oft, like ghosts beneath the moon, We glided, lost in dreams. And night and day, and day and night. Our spirits mingled with delight. Like two confluent streams. POEMS AND BALLADS. 75 But soon the goldeu sands were run From Time's recording vials, For summer dwindled and the sun Forsook the garden dials ; The red leaves fell, the mellow notes Of night-birds died within their throats, The planets hinted trials. Their warning passed unheeded on, For little recked I then ; I hardly saw my love was wan, For hope was in my ken. I only saw her radiant eyes, And laughed nt all the gloomy skies That loured above the glen. " What care?" I said; " the rooms are warm, And ample my domains ; " And smiled whene'er the wrathful storm Attacked the casement panes. Not knowing the avenging sprite Was singing in her dreams by night Of Heaven's happier plains. 7G POEMS AND BALLADS. Yet day by day she paler grew, Till, like a bramble rose That slumbers, draped in moonlit dew, She looked in her repose. And then, ah ! then, my soul grew weak, I dreamed of things I dare not speak, Things speech could not disclose. And then the fiend my anger raised Against the spirit dove ; For when in Lalla's eyes I gazed They seemed the stars above, And I would wonder if I dreamed, If earth and heaven and all but seemed, If God were really love. So one night, nodding in my chair Her curtained couch beside, Methought an angel stern though fair Came o'er the woodlands wide, And bore away from out the room, Far up within the starless gloom, My pale and sleeping bride. POEMS AND BALLADS. 77 Then, striving with the awful spell, I ^aliened with a shriek ; Around the amber lamp rays fell In many a mystic streak. But all was hushed, so strangely still That o'er my soul there crept a chill, Nor dared I move or speak. I could but peer within the shade Of that all silent bed, Whose crimson curtains softly swayed Around her golden head. I felt, I knew she did not sleep, And yet for fear I could not weep : There lay the soulless dead. Alone, alone, with death so near. Bewitched though fain to fly. My swelling grief o'ercome by fear. I heard the bitterns cry. The crickets scritch about the hearth, The mastiff howl upon the path, The hollow breezes sigh ; '9 rOEMS AND BALLADS. "Whilst damning accents seemed to sav. Tliou mad'st tby loves as God,. Some one is dead, and now for aye Thine art shall be thy rod, E'er toiling fame tliou shalt not find, But shade shall haunt thy heart and mind Till thou art 'neath the sod. And I am conscious of a shade That dogs me like mine own, And wheresoe'er I yet have strayed I ne'er have been alone ; It haunts the very things I paint. So now my pictures bear a taint And every song's a moan. Oh, whither, whither shall I fly ? My life is overcast. Though sleep should close my weary eye My soul is in the past ; I cannot hope for future bliss Because the rod I cannot kiss. Say, shadow, shall this last ? POEMS AND BALLADS. 7'.) The very j)ortraits on the wall Are come to life again ; The mocking armoured figures call Till frenzy fires my brain. All things have eyes, most evil eyes ; Into my soul each eyeball pries To see its damning stain. I cannot shut them from my sight, Again hope ne'er shall be, For down and down for aye by night The star- eyes glance at me; And from the sun I'm forced to turn. Its rays like fever sere and burn. My heart's a whirling sea. So now the trees may nod and sway. The clocks chime out the hour. And Dian drop her silver ray O'er turret, tarn, and tower ; But in my heart no ray can be, No hope, no faith, in aught I see. Nor love's enchanting power. 80 POEMS AND BALLADS. Not even nature now can thrall, For cursed is my domain, And so this old ancestral ball May heave and split in twain ; And would it did with storm and fire ! It were a fitting funeral pyre To rid me of my pain. THE PBEDICTION. ^^HOU art aweary aud would rest ^^l^ From all that is and that which seems, From hate and love the worst and best, The never-ending useless quest, And all Ambition's restless dreams. Therefore for thee some night shall keep. Amid perpetual silent glooms, A long and lasting dreamless sleep An iron slumber dark and deep As that which haunts Ptolmeian tombs. And close for aye Time's pond'rous tome And Life's tumultous history, Blot from thy sight the boundless dome. Where worlds on worlds for ever roam. By Death, that shoreless mystery. 6 BENIGHTED. E'ER a sign shall point the way Through this world with danger rife ; Such methought but yesterday Were but dreamy words of life, Now I find them truthful words. Whither have I madly strayed ? Chirp of grigs * and songs of birds Fainter grow in mead and glade ; All around is wild and dread ; Pathless lies the sedgy fen ; And below me swamps outspread Far beyond my furthest ken ; Homeward wild l)irds swiftly hie, * Grass]) oppcrs. POEMS AND BALLADS. 83 And upon the air by fits Comes the weird unearthly cry Of the mystic lone peewits ; Brooklet murmurs wild and free Mingle with the beetle's hum ; Sadly moans each voiceful tree, For the weird-wild night is come. Over holms, and weald, and wold Dark, portentous shadows steal ; Banks of changing clouds unfold All the blackness they conceal ; Mists hang looming o'er the mere Where the pallid lilies blow ; Wandering winds come not anear, Save with accents soft and low ; Brake and bramble clamber round, Oozy mosses softly creep : Surely 'tis enchanted ground ; Nature broods but does not sleep ; Shadow, shadow mergeth all, And the air is hushed and warm, Heayen seems a funeral pall, 84 POEMS AND BALLADS. Earth a gloomy, lifeless form. Ivies drape the ruined towers, Mouldering in mist away ; Death-dews sleep upon the flowers, Where the sunbeams laugh by day ; Owlets flit athwart the skies, With uneasy endless quest : Oh, these vampire butterflies Are the spirits of unrest. Dark and darker grows the night. Ho ! it comes, the thunders crash ! See the curlews with afright Startle at the lightning's flash ; Fitful gusts now rise and die. Bowing down the bu-ches' tops. While from out the baneful sky Eain comes down in heavy drops. Ha ! a glimmer in the gloom. Hillo ! master, never fear. Vainly might I shout till doom. Who in such a storm could hear ? Yes, it moves this way again. POEMS AND BALLADS. 85 Hillo ! lii ! good shepherd, haste ! Like a deluge pours the rain, Like a river runs the waste ; Loud and louder howls the blast, Deepening thunders roll and roar, Lashing rains drive madly past, Lightnings show the darkness more. Help me in my dire distress ; Guardian spirit, help thou me ; Lead me from this wilderness. Miserere domine. TO ELEGEIA, ET me look within tliiue e3'es. Let me look awhile and dream. For therein my image lies, Like a shadow in a stream ; Will thy heart now ever hear That reflection floating there ? Though my Angers wandered o'er These uneasy zitter '^'- strings, Though with vows I should implore, Loth at best were useless things ; For, alas, they could not show All that I must have thee know. =•= A sort of hite played upou the table. POEilS AND BALLADS. 87 Let me look the love I own, Lips are powerless to reveal ; Musiek's most impassioned tone Could not breathe the love I feel ; Only through those orbs divine Must my spirit speak to thine. For as beams of star on star Penetrate the voids above, So the spirit sees afar Through the eyes the depths of love; Therefore only in their light Can I read thy soul aright. Let me look, then, ere we part ; E'en as mildew kills the leaf Woe, not years, destroys the heart ; Love is long and parting brief; Joyless years drag slowly on. Smoothly, sweetly love's are gone. 88 POEMS AND BALLADS. And the Bba(lo^y in thine eyes With my form will fade away, But the beauty which I prize In my heart must ever stay, When these words to-night may be Nothing save a song to thee. iTj^^^ A PBELUDE. ^^ LADY dear, I would forget ; ^ Wake not these living strings ; Eemembrance only means regret, And honey-bees have stings. I cannot sing of happier years, No more vain hope beguiles ; We do but hope to hide our fears, We mask our grief with smiles. For happiness, that priceless flower. Was withered long ago. When Eblis entered Eden's bower To cull the weeds of woe, 00 POEMS AND BALLADS. Which thrive when even hope will die And spring from love's decay, And stain the hands of all who try To pluck them from the way. And so to smiles my lyre is mute, But sighs an echo find ; For sunbeams cannot play that lute Which trembles for the wind. In every land, and home, and street Men see the shade of jo}', And follow it, but never greet The lovely heartless boy. For as the moths flit o'er the flowers, And seek the taper's light. Their winged souls in folly's bowers Pursue each gaudy sight. rOEMS AXD BALLADS. 91 And then they wake — ah, yes ! and feel, When sered with inner fires, How little in the world is real, How bare are most desires. 'Tis noble but to strive for good ; But gods of gloss and gain Shall make the heart a gloomy wood. Where no sweet flowers remain. Thus did my lips now feign a tone Of joy where there is none, They'd be like Memnon's were — of stone, And murmur in the sun. ^""^■f^-^ -j<^) --5:,:C7n^\i5V7^-^>^-S=»^r^C<•5^<5JXua» ^C9-> SL UMBEB. ^ES, slumber is a heavenly eliade, SMJ^ The Hermes of the throne ; To me it still hath constant stayed, When other friends have flown. It Cometh as a lovely sprite, Whose drovi^sy wings unfurled Flap musically in the night Sweet visions o'er the world, "Which softly lie as dew on flowers Upon the spirit wrought. That writhes and writhes in wakinp; hours Within the hells of thought. THE HAMLET IN THE VALLEY. WT^O, is not this a lovely vale ? M^^ How shimbrously the roses trail, And seem to take a crimson dye, Chameleon-like, from out the sky, "Whose glowing orb but lately blessed The world now sinking into rest ! Here willows weep, the brooklets creep, The poppies nod themselves to sleep ; All flowers exhale an odorous peace ; The warbling birds their vespers cease, And, like a dream o'er weary eyes, The gloaming steals adown the skies, While drowsy beetles far away, Boom lullabies to woodlands gray, 94 rOEMS AND BALLADS. The swaying, sombrous woods that seem The cloudy shadows of a dream; While around this thorp of straggling tombs, So cloudily the vapour looms I cannot read the stories here, Engraved in many a vanished year. The grasses grow in every street, Untrodden, save by fairy feet, That wander here in tinkling shoon. When none are looking save the moon ; For here, then, elfin mourners pass, Begemming with their tears the grass ; While spiders weave in many a ring The garlands Love forgets to bring. But now, bedraping vale and hill, A dreamy light the air doth fill. And all is marvellously still ; So quiet, so still, no voice nor tone Awakes to make me feci less lone ; Naught save the low, impassioned hymn Of water in the shrubberies dim. Yet 'tis not strange that this is so, POEMS AND BALLADS. 95 For soft tliose bubbling -paters flow ; So softly sweet they sound, yet clear Within each dreamer's raptured ear, That if they could they would not wake, No, not for even Love's sweet sake ; They long have slept, and still shall sleep Within their couches soft and deep. But hush ! for all is quiet and still. Save only that Lethean rill ; And these low airs that linger round With voices of so sweet a sound, Among the drooping aspen bowers And hillocks overgrown with flowers, Besprinkled with the tearful drops That drip from out the willow toj^s. That ever gently nod and wave O'er many and many a sacred grave, Nod o'er the flowers and humid grass Whereon the footless shadows pass. The shadows that may ne'er depart. So like the sorrow at my heart ; For all that's traced on yonder stone, 96 POEMS AND BALLADS. Is written in my spirit lone. Too well I know this thorp and vale Wherein the hramhlc roses trail. <^ THE NOTHINGNESS IN EVEEYTHINCr. " La vie est un plancher qui couvre L'abime de I'eternite." — Gauiier. ^M^N youth we dream of pleasure, WMm Beguiled by Fancy's powers, For most have then some leisure To rove through rosy bowers ; But time will soon discover What all men would forget, That love forsakes the lover, Bemembrance means regret. Away our love is passion. We dream but never sleep, Kiss lips that well can fashion The vows love cannot keep ; 7 98 POEMS AND BALLADS. The only joy we borrow, Wbeu all hath taken flight, Is joy begot of sorrow, And visions from the night. How poor, how poor such pleasure ! How vapid is its joy ! Earth hath no shigle treasure Which will not die or cloy. The winged sprites of heaven In joy forget oiu' tears, For theirs is love— ours levin, Entrancing while it seres. But see yon lofty mountain Towering to the stars, With cavern, crag, and fountain, To stop us as with bars ; E'en should one sit there lonely Upon that peak of fame, He'd find the pleasure only A vision and a name. POEMS AND BALLADS. 99 Yet lashing us to motion, The heart's volcanic fire Is restless as the ocean, For man must aye aspire. No rest at eve or morning. No rest for brain or soul, Through sorrow, scorned or scorning, He struggles to his goal. So that we all endeavour That pinnacle to gain, The demon whisp'ring ever, " Attain — attain — attain." And if we e'er should gain it. E'en as he tempted God, He'd tempt us to disdain it, And make our fame a rod. To millions still he mutters That soft delusive save, Till back the portal flutters Of the dark and yawning grave. 100 POEMS AND BALLADS. Then, near tlie mourners bending, Derisive demons imss, Exulting in the ending Of life's deceptive farce. CAMBBIA. 1^ AM come to a weird and driiidical region, Whose mountains, like Babel, to heaven uprise ; Within it has wandered full many a legion, With fanions and banners that streamed in the skies. Then its echoes replied to the beat of their tramp- ing. The clang and the clash of the falchions and mail, The hoarse cries of captains, the neighing and stamping, While the glare of the flambeaux-lit mountain and vale. 102 rOEMS AND BALLADS. 'Tis the land of the Cymry, Caswallou Lewell}-!!, The land of my kindred who ruled it of yore, When from high Eyri Wen* to the peak of Hel- vellyn t Its minstrels related their mystical lore. The lore of its forests and wild flashing mountains That tumble in torrents through gorge and through From the crystalline crags of the nemorous moun- tains, Reflected in many a lonc-lyiug lyn. So if age be a proof whether races are royal. At Saxon and Norman its people may smile ; And who shall gainsay that a people are loyal Who ever fought well for their prince and their isle? ■'■ Snowden. I A moimtain in Cumberland to which Wales once extended. POEMS AND BALLADS. 103 Ah ! over all Britain, unconquered, undaunted, Its warriors fought the trained legions of Eome, And oft as at Mona * those legions were haunted With fear as they tore from the Britons their home. But their goddess, great Eartha, outspreading her pinion, Still kept them a nook in the land of their birth. • It is here, it is Cambria, the ancient dominion, Whose people were said to have sprung from the earth. Ah ! yes, 'tis a region of gloom and of glory, Whose beauties shall thrill every Briton with pride, Still haunted by all its old heroes of story. Whose voices are heard in the wind and the tide. I hear the deep wail of their harps in the gloaming, When cushats are silent and forests are sere, I feel they are near me, in lone passes roaming. And tremble to all the wild music of fear. * Anglesea. 101 -— POEMS AND BALLADS. Is it iiOTv but the wind or the sound of their voices, The shimmer of spears or the glitter of streams, Are those mists or the tents where proud Edward rejoices. Or am I entranced by the mirage of dreams ? For round me the minstrels of Conway bcshrouded, The sprites of the caverns, the gnomes, and the ghouls, Glide ever through fell and dim abyss beclouded. And dance in the moonlight that lemes on the pools. They glide by the rivers that trail through the valleys, They flit round the walls of the legended towers, Like the shudder of leaves in the lone forest alleys. Their garments I hear trailing over the flowers. Now from the jagged brow of a huge rock impending, The shadowy waters incessantly roll ; While Dian imbues, all the night she is blending, "With beauty that wakes the wild harp of my soul. POEMS AND BALLADS. 105 Below me the pine tops in moonlight are glancing ; Sure Merlin enchanted these vapoury realms ; Around me in legions the red leaves are dancing, The breezes are moaning between the wych elms. Then awake, my spirit, and join in this gladness, And revel awhile where these dim woodlands reel ; For none are anear thee to call it thy madness, Or sneer at the phrensy they never can feel. Awake and arise and embathe in this beauty, And sunder each fetter and bond that controls ; And worship the land of thy love and thy duty, And pray for the peace of thy forefathers" souls, . THE AN S WEB. jH say not in earnest that Love's only passion, That dies in a day Uke the bloom of a flower, And that none can remember or care to refashion In fancy the sorrows and joys of an hour, Or weave into music the spells of their power. For though the distractions of life may awaken Distrust and regret and contempt for all themes, Yet over the past, though deceived and forsaken, We rapturously ponder o'er days of our dreams, Swept further for ever on mutable streams. POEMS AND BALLADS. 107 And, believe me, the heart, like a ship ou the oceau, May truly be steered and yet sink in the wave ; And thus, though we love with the wildest emotion, Our hearts can be lost in the years that they brave. For time oft recovers the love that it gave. The pinions of passion soon weary of plying, But love is to-day a delight as of yore, And sweet as the cadence of nightingales dying In melody over the meadows and moor, With the ripple of waters caressing the shore. And all lights but this light are transient flashes That feed on themselves with a feverish fire ; But love, like a phoenix re-risen from ashes, Outlives its cremation and every desire Of pleasures that dazzle us only to tire. Ah, yes, 'tis the passion with infinite pities ! The link of creation, the child of the sun ! The star of Ambition, the pulse of the cities The secret of losses and all that is won ! The climax of genius, and all it has done ! FAB AWAY. " C'est h, vouB, mon esprit, A qui je veux parler,"— Boilead. ^OW let US stray, ij Oh, far away, By the banks of the creeping tide, O'er the upland wold Where the fleecy fold Climbs on its sloping side. Away from men To the woodland glen, And far from our hated selves, To look at the flowers And the ferny bowers. And the foot-worn rings of the elves. POEMS AND BALLADS. 109 There the burly bee, Musically free, Hums in his drowsy flight ; And the zephyr grieves In the forest leaves That shake in the gloaming light. While far o'er the hill The murmuring rill Its mystic secret tells, And blends with each note Of the faint remote Village vesper bells. Then all around Will be fairy ground, And whisp'ring voices call, Till a power intense O'ercomes the sense, And holds us sweetly thrall. 110 POEMS AND BALLADS. While tlie stai's arise In the darkening skies, And glimmer one by one, Like the minstrel's rhymes In the gloomy times When his race has just begun, Our heart will cool By the woodland pool, And the fiends away will flee From reason's throne. And leave us lone. Sweet Psyche, you and me. It will be sweet To escape the heat And toil of the garish day ; But sweeter than aught, To fly from thought And be childlike if we may. CANZONET, W^H, cherish love ! ^^^ Its halc3-on hours are far and few. 'Tis from above ; To Hfe as to the flower is dew ; And sweeter thing man never knew. But, like the flowers, It buds and blossoms rare and sweet In joj'ous hours, That speed on pinions far too fleet For love and time to ever meet. 112 rOEMS AND BALLADS. For all tilings fly, E'en while we clierisli them, and know That all must die "Which breathes and blossoms here below, And that the fair are first to go. Ah, well-a-day ! We would not linger here alone, But pass away When all that's dearest here has flown — So like some lives are to our own. Yet to the tomb We must our best beloved bear ; Though flowers but bloom The while their kindred flowers are fair. And never know grief's dark despair. So will the years : For grief and life are e'er the same. Perennial tears Drop o'er the dust that once had name ; For love and death inseparate came. HOPE AND FEAB, I^^NWAPtD o'er the tide of time, 1^^ Wearied pinions plying, Speeding to the shadow clime, Hope and Fear are flying — With the manes of recent years Loosely draped in dripping tears. Hope is bright and fair of form, Fear is dark and dread ; Fays begot of sun and storm, Lovers yet unvred : Both are gone, I am alone With a heart that's turned to stone. 8 114 POEMS AND BALLADS. Sta}- ! within the future far Hopo I sec again, Stealing like a rising star O'er its dreary main ; While against its brightening skies, Like a cloud, Fear looming lies. POETA NASCITUB NON FIT. " Such melody was bis and ready skill, To frame sweet verse and chaunt it to his lyre." Theocritus. *#^^NCE there lived a l)ard\\'bo sangj ■ ^^ With mellifluous tongue To his harp, whose magic twang Enchanted old and j'oung ; Till they asked what it could he Whose strains came o'er the sea, From the land of Italy, To which he fondly clung. Legend said it was a lute Which none might buy nor jQnd ; But the answer did not suit, So they said it was his mind ; IIG POEMS AND BALLADS. Tboiigli tlie critics years before, Ere lie left bis native sbore, Said be kuew not bow to soar, And bis songs were empty wind. Otber bards bad lutes as well, "Wbicb bad ccboed loud and long, Yet tbey ^mused beueatb tbe spell Of bis wild and wondrous song. But tbe doubting scbolars tried, And tbey copied bim beside, Till all men were satisfied Tbat tbeir best attempts were wrong. But bis song's electric fire Flooded city, tborp, and glen, For tbe music of bis lyre Ecbocd in tbe bcarts of men Like tbe tbundcr-storms on bigb, "\Ybeu tbey roar and roll and die In tbe peaks tbat toucb tbe sky, Far beyond tbe wand'rcrs ken ; POEMS AND BALLADS. 117 Like the plaintive winds that wail Through a weary night of woe, When the brow is damp and pale From the thoughts that haunt it so, From the hidden burning smart In the anguish-riven heart, When beloved and loved must part Ere the loved one lieth low. Ah ! the deep impassioned strains From that lute, which was his soul. Never sprang from works of brain, Which are subject to control ; For when that bard lay dead, And the doctors cleft his head. Nought was found — the lute had fled Which the nations still extol. FINIS. UNWIN BEOrHEBS, THE SRESHAM PBESS, CHILWOETH AND LONDON. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book Is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50m-7, '54 (5990)444 ' FK .r.'i^mne - hi 29 Poems and ^99WM ballads iaa3 PR 1 U729 G99hA17 1833 "\ UC SOUTHER^ ,'',S'0^;')L LIBRARY FACILITY A^ 000 3m 744 V^.