■' ■ 
 
 J ' 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 '

 
 JANUS, LAKE SONNETS, ETC. 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 fe»
 
 LONDON. 
 
 Dickering. Pi adilly. 
 Bell, fleet Street 
 
 53.
 
 
 
 JANUS, 
 
 LAKE SONNETS, ETC 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY DAVID HOLT. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING, PICCADILLY. 
 
 GEORGE BELL, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1853.
 
 
 j 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ANUS Pag | 
 
 Lake Sonnets, etc. 
 
 Introductory 27 
 
 Coniston Water 28 
 
 Levers Water 29 
 
 The Woodland Brook 30 
 
 Windermere 31 
 
 A Pathway at Rydal 32 
 
 Beneath the Pathway 33 
 
 Evening 34 
 
 At the Grave of Wordsworth, 1 35 
 
 Ditto, 11 36 
 
 The Pass of Kirkstone 37 
 
 Midnight 38 
 
 A Summer Day 39 
 
 Langdale 40 
 
 Yew Dale 41 
 
 The Mill Pool 42 
 
 Wastwater, 1 43 
 
 Ditto, 11 44 
 
 The Talk of the Mountains 45 
 
 Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 Building up 51 
 
 The Pilot Star 53 
 
 865116
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 Human Weakness 55 
 
 The Rippling of the Water 57 
 
 The Dreamer 59 
 
 Love Worship 61 
 
 Illusions 66 
 
 Human Progress 69 
 
 Evangeline 72 
 
 Night in the City 76 
 
 A Mountain Dream 81 
 
 A Song of Sorrow 87 
 
 Hymn to the Stars 89 
 
 A Promise 94 
 
 Thoughts on Great Minds 97 
 
 The Lost Dream 101 
 
 To the Angel Death 104 
 
 The Cry of the Benighted 106 
 
 Monsal Dale 109 
 
 To the Spirit of Love 121 
 
 The Conflict 124 
 
 Thoughts in Dovedale . 127 
 
 Song learnt through Sorrow 132 
 
 A Memorial 134 
 
 The Stars of Earth 136 
 
 To the Evening Breeze 140 
 
 Labour 145 
 
 The Earth-bound and the Departed 147 
 
 A Recollection 150 
 
 The Truth-seeker 154 
 
 Beeston Castle 159 
 
 A Rainy Day 166 
 
 What doth it all avail 176
 
 Contents. vii 
 
 Miscellaneous Sonnets. 
 
 Page 
 
 Self-Culture, i 185 
 
 Ditto, n 186 
 
 Ditto, in 187 
 
 Ditto, iv 188 
 
 A Question 189 
 
 Meadow-Paths 190 
 
 Winds at Midnight 191 
 
 To Duty 192 
 
 Faith 'mid Doubt . 193 
 
 The Doubter 194 
 
 Enfranchisement 195 
 
 To Sleep 196 
 
 To Louis Kossuth, i 197 
 
 Ditto, n 198 
 
 To 199 
 
 To 200 
 
 Solemn Thoughts 201 
 
 A Quiet Pleasure . . 202 
 
 Truth - . . . . 203 
 
 Beauty in all Seasons 204 
 
 Winter 205 
 
 The Return of Spring 206 
 
 The Dreamer 207
 
 JANUS. 
 
 B
 
 JANUS. 
 
 We look before and after, 
 And pine for what is not. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 r I "'HE Present is a mountain-ridge in Time, 
 
 Beneath whose kingly eminence out-spread 
 Two vast and varied champaigns — one behind 
 And one before — these are the Past and Future. 
 The Past — that plain through which our steps have 
 
 toil'd 
 To gain this proud ascent — lies fair and clear 
 As far as mortal vision may extend, 
 A region built on noble human hearts, 
 And bearing records of heroic deeds, 
 Self-abnegations, glorious martyrdoms, 
 And great achievements for the good of man, 
 As monuments upon it; but the Future —
 
 4 Janus. 
 
 That other plain toward which our gaze is cast — 
 As we may see the like in nature oft, 
 Is densely shrouded by low-hanging' mists 
 That roll in surging billows o'er the scene, 
 And hide from curious eyes of mortal man 
 Whate'er may lie beneath — save when at times 
 The mighty wind, arising, shakes the veil 
 Apart in spaces few and far between. 
 Then may be gather'd faint and partial gleams, 
 Vague and obscure denotements, here and there, 
 Of the strange picture of that under-world ; 
 It may be some remote and dream-like hints 
 Of shadowy forms on the horizon's verge, 
 Like the proud palace-roofs and lofty marts, 
 The golden cupolas and minarets 
 Of a mighty city, over which the beams 
 Of a new morn are breaking — or it may be 
 A simple village-spire pointing to heaven, 
 Out of the vale of vapours, with the rays 
 Of the glad sun kissing the ancient cross
 
 Janus. 5 
 
 That crowns the venerable house of God. 
 
 Or it may be the bosom of a sea, 
 
 Far-flashing - with its multitude of waves, 
 
 And g-emm'd with glittering- sails that waft the wealth 
 
 Of fruitful nations on from clime to clime. 
 
 Or it may be a ghastly battle-field, 
 
 Upon whose trampled turf are piled in heaps 
 
 The crumbling bones of millions — portent dire 
 
 Of that tremendous battle of the Future 
 
 Which looms upon us — or it may be haply 
 
 A countless company of living souls 
 
 Met with majestic rites to solemnize 
 
 The universal brotherhood of man, 
 
 And final triumph of great Liberty — 
 
 But all is formless, vague and indistinct, 
 
 A wildering chaos of uncertain shapes, 
 
 A varying world of shadows, baffling thought, 
 
 Like the delusive pageants of a dream ; 
 
 And even while we gaze, the wind subsides, 
 
 And the mist closes, and the gleams are gone.
 
 6 Janus. 
 
 Then turn we to the Past — how clear ! how bright 
 
 The prospect is that greets us ! all mapp'd out 
 
 l 
 In sequent order, at our feet repose 
 
 The solemn ages ; each a mighty world, 
 
 Of mystic meanings, and high teachings full. 
 
 On the horizon's verge, and far beyond, 
 
 Lies the fair land of fable and of dream, 
 
 A land of ruin'd temples, monuments 
 
 Of the first worship of the infant world ; 
 
 A land too of great forests, interveined 
 
 By fair embowered rivers — the abodes 
 
 Of nymphs, and naiads, oreads, dryads, fauns, 
 
 The fair creations of the poet's heart 
 
 Revelling in beauty. There too lies the land 
 
 Where flows old Nilus 'neath the pyramids 
 
 That, like embodiments of Eternity, 
 
 Uprear their giant-bulk, and overlook 
 
 The intervening ages. Round about 
 
 Are strewn vast empires, fading into space
 
 Janus. 
 
 Remote, and swathed in vapour — there too lies 
 The chosen haunt of fair philosophy, 
 The region crown'd by the Acropolis, 
 Where Phidias lives for ever — and more near 
 The seven-hill'd city with her subject world, 
 And all her circling immortalities. 
 
 And there too haloed by peculiar light, 
 As of the softest sunbeams that have ever 
 Illumed the forehead of the noonday world, 
 Lies the fair land of the Nativity ; 
 The land where through his years of human life 
 Walk'd the sole man of mortal men, upraised 
 Nighest to God's perfection — favoured land, 
 Where first was sown that seed which since hath 
 
 borne 
 Such glorious fruit — and fruits more glorious far 
 Has yet to bear — in linking man to man 
 In gentle bonds of amity and love, 
 In smiting Error with Ithuriel spear,
 
 8 Janus. 
 
 And building up, within the human heart, 
 
 A temple — meet to be the chosen shrine, 
 
 The rightful throne, and the most bless'd abode 
 
 Of the great Spirit of the universe ; — 
 
 The loving Father. Oh most wondrous words ! 
 
 Words, than all other words, more wondrous far 
 
 Were those that, utter'd once by living lips, 
 
 Startled the slumbering airs of that sweet land, 
 
 Like the most strong and solemn voice of God, 
 
 Dispelling chaos and creating worlds, — 
 
 Most wondrous words were they ; so few, and yet 
 
 So mighty — so severely simple, yet 
 
 So grand and so majestic, in themselves 
 
 Concentrating the essence of all truth, 
 
 And the perfection of all beauty — words 
 
 That utter'd in the silence of the Past 
 
 Fill all the mighty circle of the Present, 
 
 And in the fulness of their inborn strength 
 
 Stretch forward through each future age, and thence 
 
 Into the infinite Eternity; 
 
 \3
 
 Janus. 9 
 
 Words that reveal the difference 'twixt the true, 
 And the untrue — for Error, though oft born 
 A giant, strong and subtle, and all-conquering, 
 Is of the transient and the perishable, 
 And fades from off the bosom of the world, 
 As age succeeds to age ; but holy Truth, 
 Being eternal in its nature, works 
 With silent and with unobtrusive power, 
 Redeems from sin and death the race of man, 
 Widens the passage to eternity 
 From day to day — and grows from more to more 
 Throughout all time, for ever and for ever. 
 
 Fair rests the sunlight on that favour'd land, 
 A sunlight brighter than the outer world 
 Hath e'er beheld — the sunlight of the soul. 
 
 Thenceforward to the spot whereon we stand, 
 Throughout the vast and ever-varied plain, 
 The wide expanse of each succeeding age, 
 
 c
 
 10 Janus. 
 
 The wondrous influence of those words of Christ, 
 The living Water of the inspired words 
 Of Him who had not where to lay his head, 
 Winds onward like a broad and bounteous river 
 To beautify and bless unnumber'd lands. 
 Yet not all fair and lovely are the scenes 
 Through which it flows ; dark spots amid the 
 
 brightness 
 Show, not infrequent, the results of man's 
 Sand-blind perversion of that simple Creed, 
 And its most sacred meaning — strange results, 
 And sad as strange, and hinting of the rents 
 And imperfections of our mortal mind; 
 Which, from high Reason by most sad divorce 
 Self-sever'd, wanders in a world of doubt 
 And lamentable darkness. Owlet-cries, 
 Voices of fear and noises of the night, 
 Rise frequent from each chaos ; while through all 
 Unchanged, uninjured by the transient clouds, 
 That influence still endures ; still fraught with good.
 
 Janus. 11 
 
 Still showers new sunlight on the realms of Thought, 
 Still chastens action and exalts its aim ; 
 Upbuilds bright Edens in the wilderness, 
 And shows of what high potency is truth, 
 Fearlessly utter'd, to subdue the world, 
 And mould man's restless spirit to its will. 
 
 Oh rich and regal Past ! thine are the stores 
 Of worth and wisdom — of exalted thought 
 And of heroic deed, which are the food 
 That nerves us to a lofty emulation 
 Of thy sublime ensamples. Thine the names — 
 The glorious names — that, in eternal youth, 
 Still stand before us as the beacon-lights 
 And pilot-stars to guide us in the paths 
 Of honour and of truth. Thine is the key 
 Which doth unlock so much which else would lie 
 Hid in the mystery of the Present ; thine 
 The flaming torch that throws its varying gleams 
 So far into the shrouded Future. Thou
 
 12 Janus. 
 
 Art worthy of our love, oh lofty Past ! 
 
 Take thee away, and we have lost full half 
 
 Of the rare beauty of the outer world, 
 
 And of the inner world within the soul, 
 
 Since doubly dear are all those thoughts and things 
 
 That are illumined by the sunset-light 
 
 Of old associations. All great souls 
 
 Have loved the Past, have recognised its claim 
 
 On our affections and our gratitude, 
 
 And working well and wisely in the Present, 
 
 And looking forth with faith into the Future, 
 
 Have yet been drawn to cast a backward look 
 
 Of lingering love upon the storied Past, 
 
 And feed upon its teachings manifold, 
 
 And the high moral beauty they reveal. 
 
 We love the Present as we love our Bride, 
 
 Our help-mate and companion; to the Future 
 
 We give the love that we would yield our Child ; 
 
 Whose being, under God, is due to us, 
 
 Our wise or unwise commerce with the Present —
 
 Jaxus. 13 
 
 But to the Past do we accord the love 
 Due to a Mother, from whose life our life 
 Flow'd forth, and without whom we had not been. 
 
 Alas ! and can it be that well nigh all 
 We have of Great and Noble is comprised 
 Within the mystic circle of the Past ? 
 That all Earth's wise and fearless Rulers stand 
 With the divine Departed ? — that High Art 
 Looks back with tearful gaze into the years 
 That have been, and that are not, there to find 
 Her noblest priesthood? — that the mighty Lyre 
 Is silent now, because the master hands 
 That swept its chords have crumbled into dust, 
 And left no heirs behind? It cannot be; 
 Just Heaven ! it cannot be;— and yet we stand 
 Amid this Present, and gaze wistful round 
 To find on noble brows the sacred seal 
 Denoting the Elect, and find it not; 
 Albeit our gaze is cast on many brows
 
 14 Janus. 
 
 Of the old nobleness — brows whereupon 
 That seal sbould be, and where perchance it is 
 Beyond our poor discerning; — for in sooth, 
 The fountains of God's Spirit are not dry, 
 That He no longer can inspire ; His hand 
 Hath not grown heavy that it faileth now 
 To mould men in His Image ; as of old 
 Great Thoughts came down from Heaven, so now 
 
 perchance 
 Are they descending, and in after years 
 Shall make themselves apparent to the gaze 
 Of all men, — radiant Angels sent from God 
 With hope and cheer for a despairing world 
 Long laid in darkness. Courage ! — there are lamps 
 In Heaven as yet unlit, — which in due time 
 Shall be illumined with celestial fire, 
 To light and bless the people of the earth. — 
 Still courage ! forward, forward be our gaze 
 Directed in the living might of Faith, 
 Still forward — we will trust the Future yet.
 
 Janus. 15 
 
 Yes ! we will trust the Future. Standing thus, 
 And gazing back upon the glorious Past, 
 And round about upon this wondrous Present 
 And all that it reveals; behold we not 
 How man, by his indomitable mind, 
 Hath won great victories in the mighty world 
 Of the Material ; — hath subdued the force 
 Of dumb brute matter to his sovereign will — 
 Hath wrenched its treasures from the womb of earth, 
 And therewith framed him magic keys, to ope 
 The way to wondrous things undream'd of yet; — 
 Behold we not how he hath harness'd powers 
 Swift as the swift-wing'd whirlwinds to his car, 
 
 To waft him onward over land and sea ; — 
 
 l 
 
 Hath call'd the spirit of the lightning down, 
 
 From out the bosom of its ebon cloud, 
 To do his bidding, and to be his slave; 
 And subjected to will, and train'd to use, 
 The elemental genii of the earth,
 
 16 Janus. 
 
 And air and ocean. We behold all this ; 
 
 And can we doubt that this is but the grerm 
 
 And embryo of that which is to be ; 
 
 The portent pointing to a further hope 
 
 And still more glorious possibility 
 
 Of future good, when the gigantic mind 
 
 Of man, grown measurelessly more colossal, 
 
 Shall bend these triumphs o'er material powers 
 
 To spiritual use, and grow thereby 
 
 God-like and great, and widely-wise and strong, 
 
 And soaring on the Seraph-wings of Thought, 
 
 Shall rise into a region which shall leave 
 
 This Present, high and wondrous though it be, 
 
 A lower circle in the mighty scale, 
 
 Enveloped in a veil of sunless cloud. 
 
 And not alone in things of outward growth, 
 In things that all men see, is this our age 
 Portentous. Deep within the human heart — 
 Deep in the ever-restless heart of man,
 
 Janus. 17 
 
 A hidden germ is quickening even now, 
 The germ of conflict and of mighty change 
 And revolution in the realm of mind. 
 Our age has Thinkers — men of rarest gifts 
 And deepest insight; studious of the Truth, 
 And jealous for its honour — men to whom 
 No false appearances, no hollow shows, 
 However trapp'd and dizen'd in the robes 
 Of solemn sophistry and sacred farce, 
 Can e'er avail to blind their earnest eyes 
 To the pure light of Reason, leading on 
 To holier issues. Not as they who roused 
 A former generation into wrath 
 x By the keen dagger of the intellect, 
 Do these our Thinkers take forbidden tools 
 Of bitter sarcasm and of impious jest 
 To work with, but with earnest humble hearts, 
 And reverently and in the fear of God, 
 Work they in their high calling, and the world 
 Ere many years be added to its age, 
 
 D
 
 18 Janus. 
 
 Shall sec and feel the issue of their toils, 
 And bless them for their labours ; even now 
 The antique giant of old use and wont — 
 The hoary despot who hath many names — 
 Custom, Convention, and Authority — 
 Totters upon his throne, and some wise blow, 
 Dealt by a master hand, shall hurl him down, 
 And lay him prostrate, never more to rise 
 And stretch the sceptre of his baleful sway 
 Across the nations. Heaven accelerate 
 That consummation. As, beneath the soil, 
 When all upon the surface seems at rest, 
 The acorn, quick with vegetable life 
 And labouring the birth of some great oak, 
 The parent haply of a forest-race 
 Gigantic — writhes and struggles to set free 
 The vigorous infant, till at last 'tis done, 
 And the earth parting gives free way for growth 
 And fair completion ; so that they who trod 
 With careless feet o'er the momentous spot,
 
 Janus. 19 
 
 After long years returning-, find this new 
 
 And wondrous growth of nature, raised as 'twere 
 
 From seeming nothing, yet affording proofs 
 
 Of firm existence. So does this our age 
 
 Labour with grave surmises, and great doubts, 
 
 And solemn questions, which shall haply grow, 
 
 In the wise course of Nature, to assured 
 
 And firm convictions, ample to replace 
 
 All of the old that hath fulfill'd its work, 
 
 And closed its mission ; potent too to clear 
 
 These blinding mists, and to withdraw our souls 
 
 From paths of error, to reveal the true, 
 
 The one immutable eternal Law, 
 
 And lead us back once more to God and Christ — 
 
 Our starting point — our goal of peace — our home, 
 
 And the bless'd Eden of our perfect rest. 
 
 Man's life is in progression ; if he pause, 
 He dies ; but mounting up from stair to stair, 
 Led by an omnipotent hand, 'tis his to scale
 
 20 Janus. 
 
 The mountain heights of wisdom, 'till he stand — 
 As he shall doubtless in some future age — 
 Upon the sacred pinnacle of Truth. 
 
 Oh mystic Future ! that which lies in thee 
 Is hid with God ; we cannot pierce the veil 
 That shrouds thee from us ; we can only hope 
 That the great race of Man may be inspired 
 With wisdom, by the teaching of the Past, 
 And breathings of God's Spirit in the soul, 
 To build a firm foundation in this Present, 
 Whereon thy mighty structures may be rear'd, 
 Thy sacred Temples and impregnable towers. 
 Oh mystic Future ! that which lies in thee 
 Is hid with God, yet 'tis our stedfast faith, 
 That thou dost hold in thy serene embrace 
 The time when Error, Evil, and the throng 
 Of demons who now work the woe of Man 
 Shall be cut down and vanquish'd by the sword, 
 Clasp'd in the strong right-hand of sovereign Truth ;
 
 Janus. 21 
 
 When sorrow, the rank after-growth of sin, 
 
 Shall be eradicated from the soul ; 
 
 When Peace shall build her temple in the heart, 
 
 With none to question ; and when holy Joy, 
 
 Serene and lofty shall pour down her beams 
 
 On the uplifted countenance of man, 
 
 From an unclouded heaven ; when wrong and strife 
 
 Shall be forgotten, and mankind shall dwell 
 
 In unity together ; and when Earth, 
 
 Bright planet then — abode of happy souls — 
 
 Shall doff her mourning weeds, and be as Heaven. 
 
 Speed Thou that advent ! Father, in Thy hand 
 We leave these things ; Thou art all-just, all-wise, 
 Plenteous in mercy, in long-sufferance too; 
 Thou see'st not with our eyes, Thy righteous ways 
 Are not as our ways, Thou dost send Thy rain 
 Alike upon the just and the unjust ; 
 And if it be Thy will that for a time 
 Evil shall have dominion in the world
 
 22 Janus. 
 
 Which Thou hast made, we may be well assured 
 It is for some wise purpose, though to us 
 Unknown ; and when the fitting- season comes, 
 Thou wilt bind up our wounds and dry our tears, 
 And right our seeming wrongs, and reconcile 
 Dissentient elements — build up once more 
 The broken Temple, and eliminate 
 Order's divine proportions in the midst 
 Of our wild chaos, for the furtherance 
 Of Thy great glory and the good of Man. 
 
 For us who wait that advent, we to whom 
 The will of God has delegated powers 
 Mighty for good or evil ; we who live, — 
 We of the present, — it behoves us much, 
 Yea more than all, to shape that Present so 
 That it may bear with influence benign 
 Upon the Future. 'Tis the seedtime now, 
 And as we strew, so shall the harvest be 
 Which in the Future shall be gather'd in.
 
 Janus. 23 
 
 Our brave forefathers have wrought well for us ; 
 If we for our successors work as well, 
 It cannot be but that the smile of God 
 Shall sun the coming harvest into ripeness. 
 Of this, beyond all else, let us take note — 
 Our present act it is, which is the seed 
 From which the future harvest is to spring ; 
 And that as the minutest grain of sand 
 Moved from its place, must in some measure change 
 The orbit of the world, so all our acts, 
 Even the meanest and the most unnoted, 
 Shall be of wondrous weight to make or mar 
 The heritage of our children ! — solemn thought 
 For those who hold the massive reins that guide 
 The destinies of Nations ! solemn thought — 
 No less for him into whose charge is given 
 The guidance of one soul, that soul his own.
 
 LAKE SONNETS, 
 ETC.
 
 27 
 
 LAKE SONNETS, ETC. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 /"^lOULD I but speak the love that in my breast 
 Doth grow, and gather strength from day to 
 day, 
 For those fair Lakes and mountains far away, 
 Reposing like an Eden of the Blest ; 
 Could I but clothe this earnest love of mine 
 In fitting words, then might I boldly say 
 To such as dared to hear, " Behold a lay, 
 " A lay of love, — in lofty utterance drest, 
 " Proclaiming Nature's praise in tones divine;" 
 But ah ! my words so weak and poor at best, 
 Refuse obedience to my heart's behest, 
 And do but cloud what they would fain portray; 
 So must I in such half-attainment rest, 
 Content to sing such snatches as I may.
 
 28 
 
 CONISTON WATER. 
 
 A PICTUUE. 
 
 TTTE stood and gazed, and scarcely dared to 
 
 breathe, 
 So solemn was the scene beneath the light 
 Of the new morning. On each wooded height 
 The mist repos'd in many an airy wreath, 
 Whilst the fair fields and glassy lake beneath 
 Were shrouded in a robe of lightest haze, 
 Made golden by the day-god's kindling rays, 
 That shed soft glory over wood and heath ; — 
 High over all the great Man-mountain rose, 
 As natural guardian of the scene so still, 
 In his colossal majesty supreme, [snows, — 
 
 Rob'd in vast mists and crown'd with glittering 
 No faintest sound was heard from vale or hill, 
 And all the lovely scene was like a dream.
 
 29 
 
 LEVERS WATER. 
 
 ABOVE CON1STON. 
 
 /AH silent Tarn ! fast-lock'd in such grim sleep 
 
 Within thine awful and profound recess, 
 And overshadow'd by the mightiness 
 Of the majestic mountain, which doth keep 
 Stern watch o'er thy primeval loneliness ; — 
 Oh mountain Tarn, upon thy marge we stand, 
 And awe-struck gaze upon thy darken' d face, 
 Whilst as to make more weird the solemn place, 
 Night drops her curtain o'er the subject land 
 In folds on folds of shade, and far above 
 The frowning barrier of black hill-side, beams 
 The star of evening, — God's sweet light of love 
 Set in the heavens. — Star whose celestial gleams 
 Have mystic power the heart of man to move, 
 Radiant awakeners of divinest dreams.
 
 30 
 
 THE WOODLAND BROOK. 
 
 BY WINDERMERE. 
 
 A RT thou a Lover of the Beautiful, 
 
 A Worshipper of Nature, and a Child 
 Of Poesy ? who in the sweetly wild 
 And woodland places dost delight to cull 
 Fair flowers of Fancy ? Come and sit with me 
 Upon this broad and mossy stone, and see 
 How joyously the little W'oodland Brook, 
 In miniature cascades from shelf to shelf 
 Descends, and singing- sweetly to itself, 
 Makes melody within the leafy nook : 
 Then go thy ways into the throng of men, 
 And bear the music with thee, and the thought 
 Of this calm hour amid the lonely glen, 
 As things to soothe and cheer thine after-lot.
 
 31 
 
 WINDERMERE. 
 
 /\H fair Winander, thy most gentle Lake, 
 
 Bright with the beauty both of heaven and 
 earth, 
 Hath power to summon holy thoughts to birth 
 Within the minds of such as haply take 
 Like us, their station on this pastoral mound, 
 This wooded watch-tower, and thence gazing round 
 On the fair scene, have ample leave to slake 
 The longing of their souls in seas profound 
 Of paradisal beauty. Not a sound, 
 Not one vague whisper of a wandering breeze, 
 Breaks the pure peace that brooding full and deep 
 Enchants the soul, so that the scene doth seem 
 Scarce real. Thus earth's fair realities 
 Do sometimes wear the semblance of a dream, 
 And we grow doubtful if we wake or sleep.
 
 32 
 
 A PATHWAY AT RYDAL. 
 
 r~piHERE is a pathway o'er a steep hill-side, 
 
 Forth looking o'er a paradisal scene 
 Of lake and mountain, and a world of green 
 Bright leaves that in the warmth of summer-tide, 
 Put forth their beauties in exceeding pride. — 
 There are few pathways in this world of ours 
 More memorable, for 'twas trod by one — 
 The mountain-seated Muses' mightiest Son — 
 Whose name is linked with Nature and her powers; 
 And here perchance hath many a noble thought 
 Descended on his soul, and there been wrought 
 Fashion'd and fused into immortal Song, 
 Whose benediction shall endure as long 
 As men behold the mountains, stars and flowers.
 
 33 
 
 BENEATH THE PATHWAY. 
 
 NAB COTTAGE. 
 
 IT^AR down beneath this pathway lies a cot, 
 A lowly dwelling by the lone lake's side, 
 And by this verse it shall be testified, 
 That gentle memories linger round the spot ; 
 For here a childlike spirit, a sweet soul, 
 A portion of great Nature's beauteous whole, 
 A son of song, to love and truth allied, 
 After sore shipwreck mid life's feverous shocks, 
 Found blessed haven from the bruising rocks, 
 Lived out his span of life, and calmly died. 
 Vainly the voice of slander now assails 
 His memory, for that is loved full well, 
 Loved with a love that passes words to tell, 
 Bv all the dwellers in these quiet dales.
 
 34 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 BY RYDAL MERE. 
 
 r T^HE glare and heat of the long summer day, 
 
 Its fever and disquietude are done, 
 And, with the last beams of the setting sun, 
 Have faded from the fainting earth away ; 
 Slowly the lake and vale grow dim and gray, 
 And the wan moon looks forth o'er yonder hill, — 
 Looks forth upon a scene peace-lapp'd and still, 
 Relinquish'd wholly to mild Evening's sway. 
 The gathering vapours by no breeze are stirr'd, 
 Of Nature's myriad notes not one is heard, 
 Save the soft gurgle of the unseen rill 
 That to the lake's calm bosom wends its way, 
 And warble of the solitary bird, 
 That tunes its vesper notes on yonder spray.
 
 35 
 
 AT THE GRAVE OF WORDSWORTH, 
 
 IN GRASMERE CHURCHYARD. 
 I. 
 
 / >k H better far than richly sculptured tomb, 
 
 Oh fitter far than monumental pile 
 Of storied marble in cathedral aisle, 
 Is this low grassv grave bright with the bloom 
 Of nature, and laid open to the smile 
 Of the blue heaven — this stone that tells to whom 
 The spot is dedicate, who rests beneath 
 In this God's acre, this fair field of death ; 
 Oh meet it is, great Bard, that in the breast 
 Of this sweet vale, and 'neath the guardian hills 
 By thee so loved, thy venerated dust 
 Should lie in peace, and it is meet and just, 
 That evermore around thy place of rest 
 Should rise the murmur of the mountain rills.
 
 36 
 
 II. 
 
 r I ^O this calm spot the pilgrim in far years, 
 
 Led by the reverence in his soul, shall come, 
 And as he gazes on this grassy tomb, 
 His thoughtful eyes shall be suffused with tears, 
 But not with tears of sorrow : there is nought, 
 In this fair scene, that speaks of grief or gloom, 
 Not one incentive to despondent thought. 
 Pensive, not sad, shall be the pilgrim's heart, 
 Subdued, not sorrowful, his soul shall be, 
 As standing by this Grave he thinks of Thee, 
 And how that thy long life's great work was wrought 
 Full out, and how its immortality 
 Is fix'd as firmly and as sure as aught 
 That men deem lasting — mountain, star, or sea.
 
 37 
 
 THE PASS OF KIRKSTONE. 
 
 'T^HIS hill is like the hill of human life — 
 
 Throughout the season of " our manly prime,' 
 'Tis our proud task the steep ascent to climb, 
 Conquering the rugged road with valiant strife, 
 Until we reach the pinnacle sublime, 
 Whence looking back our glad exultant eyes 
 Behold the subject world that 'neath us lies — 
 Then, with a feeling of supreme content 
 And gratitude to God, we turn to meet 
 The lesser labours of the smooth descent 
 On the other side ; treading the bloomy heath, 
 A fragrant carpet for our weary feet, 
 Till we find rest in the fair vale beneath, 
 The welcome rest of all the wavworn — death.
 
 38 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 ABOVE ULLESWATER. 
 
 r T is a midnight very hush'd and deep, 
 Silence ineffable hath charm'd the air ; 
 Nature the Sabbath of her rest doth keep, 
 And silver stars are pictured here and there 
 In the calm mirror of the Lake so fair, 
 Whose gather'd waters far below me sleep. — 
 Weird is the aspect which the mountains wear,- 
 As o'er them its wan rays the starlight throws, 
 Huge giants seem they taking their repose ; 
 Grim Titans cradled in their old-world lair 
 Of inaccessible solitude — a sense 
 Of awe and mystery on the spirit grows, 
 Mystery inscrutable and awe intense, 
 Whilst gazing on their night-enshrouded brows.
 
 39 
 
 A SUMMER DAY 
 
 ON DERWENTWATER. 
 
 /^NE whole long summer-day, from morn till 
 
 night, 
 We floated on thy mirror, crystal-clear, 
 Sweet Derwentwater — round us far and near 
 All Nature was in shining garments dight, 
 And high above us did old Skiddaw rear 
 His forehead sunbeam-crown'd ; great was our cheer, 
 And the large nectar-cup of our delight 
 Was fill'd to overflowing ; — ne'er before 
 Had earth appear'd so lovely to our sight, 
 Or clad in such sweet aspect ; — ample store 
 Of joy and wisdom did we bear away 
 From that, intense communion, and no less 
 Large was the measure of our thankfulness, 
 For many fair dreams realized that day.
 
 40 
 
 LANGDALE.* 
 
 T TAIL, everlasting Hills ! all hail once more 
 
 Majestic region of the mist and cloud. 
 My soul is waken'd and my head is bow'd, 
 Again in Nature's Temple I adore — 
 And what a Temple ! rising vast and high, 
 The circling mountains their great foreheads hoar 
 Uplift unto the calm and silent sky 
 Whose circumambient dome doth on them lie. 
 O savage region ! O wild hills and streams ! 
 The warm imagination of my youth 
 Hath oft had pleasing task in picturing you ; 
 Now I behold ye in your living truth, 
 And the reality transcends all dreams, 
 And my ideal fades before the true. 
 
 * This Sonnet should be taken as the opening one of a 
 fresh series of the Lake Poems.
 
 41 
 
 YEW DALE. 
 
 T NTO the Valley of the sombre yew, 
 
 Passing the three secluded Tarns that lie 
 Among the hills so lonely and so high, 
 Our lingering downward road did we pursue, 
 And at each onward step more conscious grew 
 Of the wild beautv and sublimity 
 That, ever-varying, fed the raptured eye. 
 O Vale remote ! thy mountains guard thee well, 
 Clustering in stern magnificence around, 
 And watching o'er thee with austerest care, 
 They make of thy recesses hallow'd ground, 
 Where in unbroken loneliness may dwell 
 Primeval peace and quietude profound, 
 And pensive musings find a haven fair.
 
 42 
 
 THE MILL POOL 
 
 AT BOUT, IN ESKDALE. 
 
 "^X I VINE is Art ! wondrous and great and 
 grand ! 
 And when the Painter on his canvas throws 
 High thoughts and glorious truths until it glows, 
 Well may the gazer in mute worship stand, 
 Watching the great creation as it grows, 
 Sure that from God the inspiration flows ! — 
 Yet as I pause beside this rock-bound pool, 
 And note the mingling of delicious hues, 
 Green shadow, opal gleam, and sunny ray, — 
 Bright beyond thought — that blend and interfuse 
 In the fine depths so crystal-clear, and cool, 
 I feel that I am in a mightier school 
 Than that of Art. I feel, as well I may, 
 That here is that which Art can ne'er portray.
 
 43 
 
 WASTWATER. 
 
 I. 
 
 ONELY Wastwater, on thy marge we stand — 
 The storm is sweeping through the savage 
 gorge 
 Of the wild mountains, and the boiling surge 
 Comes madly leaping to the rocky strand ; 
 Impetuously the furious wind-gods urge 
 The vainly writhing and reluctant waves, 
 That foam and struggle like unwilling slaves, 
 Driven forward with fierce threat and frequent 
 
 scourge. 
 — Plainly the troubled waters we behold, 
 Far-flashing in the tempest's lurid light, 
 But the strong powers by which they are controll'd, 
 Remain impalpable to mortal sight ; 
 These powers assume not a material mould, 
 Though felt and seen their irresistible might.
 
 44 
 
 II. 
 
 A ND so with life ; the seen by the unseen 
 Is over-ruled despotically still, 
 And noisy action is by thought serene 
 Check'd or driven forward with resistless will. 
 What deem ye strong ? the waters which ye see 
 Shrinking and trembling at each passing breeze, 
 Or the swift winds which though they viewless be, 
 Uptear the depths of the majestic seas, 
 And rouse them into thunder-harmonies ? — 
 What deem ye great ? the clamour of the crowd, 
 Whose ceaseless Babel toward high heaven is hurl'd, 
 Or the Idea which speaketh not aloud, 
 But in the heart of some great thought upcurl'd, 
 Sends its electric shocks through all the world.
 
 45 
 
 THE TALK OF THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 TT7ITH a kingly thunderous tone 
 
 Helvellyn shouteth to Skiddaw 
 Over the Vale of St. John, 
 And Saddleback, that standeth between, 
 Listen eth with a reverent mien 
 To what the giant mountain saith, 
 And his royal brother answereth. 
 
 The Lake of Beauty that doth lie 
 Old Helvellyn's heights below, 
 Looketh up with a gentle eye — 
 An eye wherein love and beauty glisteneth 
 Into her lord's time-wrinkled brow, 
 Seam'd with many a rent and scar. 
 She, fair Bride, submissive listeneth 
 To the mysterious speech that flows
 
 4(> The Talk of the Mountains. 
 
 From the lips of the old hill, and goes 
 Careering on the winds afar. 
 
 W hat do the mighty mountains say, 
 
 As they thus hold converse with each other, 
 
 Brother talking unto brother 
 
 In mysterious language night and day? 
 
 Do they tell of the storms that round them roll, 
 
 And like wide-swinging and heaven-hung bells, 
 
 Over the cloudy summits toll 
 
 The passing of worlds and universe-knells ? 
 
 W hat is it that the mountains say, 
 
 Talking thus wildly night and day ? 
 
 Do they speak of the solemn and wondrous past, 
 
 Far hid in the fathomless deeps of time, 
 
 Ere Man was made to possess the earth, 
 
 And they from their silent thrones look'd forth 
 
 Over a loneliness world-wide and vast — 
 
 A solitude savage, and stern and sublime ?
 
 The Talk of the Mountains. 47 
 
 Do they talk of that far primeval day ? 
 Or what is't the grim old Mountains say ? 
 
 List to that savage boom 
 
 That out of the shadow of the gloom, 
 
 Over the fields of air doth come. 
 
 Is it laughter ? or is it a groan ? 
 
 Such wild laughter and such weird moan 
 
 As may be heard but from mountains alone 
 
 Is it a joy-peal ? or is it a knell ? — 
 
 Who may tell ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 H
 
 51 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BUILDING UP. 
 
 TTTITH infinite patience and toil to develop 
 Whate'er may be in us of good and of 
 beauty, 
 To build up our nature with labour incessant, 
 That our Future may cast into shadow our Present ; 
 This is our mission in life, and our duty. 
 
 But that which is built to endure is built slowly, 
 And all that the world has of great and of noble, 
 Hath slowly been wrought out with toil and with 
 
 trouble ; 
 And they are the learned who end with discerning 
 That men may grow grey, and yet still be but 
 
 learning.
 
 52 Building Up. 
 
 It takoth brief time, and but little invention. 
 To build up a fabric of lath and of plaster, 
 But it taketh long years, and the mind of a master, 
 To build a Cathedral with arch and with column, 
 Meet for God's glory majestic and solemn.
 
 53 
 
 THE PILOT STAR. 
 
 CAN but sit and gaze upon Thee, 
 I can but watch thee from afar, 
 As some lone wanderer o'er the desert 
 Looks upward to his Pilot star. 
 
 I can but let thy spirit's splendour 
 Fall on mv heart in radiant streams, 
 
 To wreathe with an exceeding glory 
 My sleeping and my waking dreams. 
 
 Alas ! I never may approach thee, 
 I linger bound to earth and faint, 
 
 And gaze upon thy beauteous features 
 As on the features of a saint — 
 
 A saint that in some old Cathedral 
 Stands browbound with a sacred ray,
 
 54 The Pilot Star. 
 
 And looks down sweetly on the suppliants 
 That, ranged before her, kneel and pray. 
 
 Thou art all Nature, thou revcalcst 
 The most divine delight of youth ; 
 
 Thy spirit is a holy chalice, 
 
 Brimra'd with the crystal wave of Truth. 
 
 Alas ! thou art so high above me, 
 
 In such pure brightness thou dost move, 
 
 A Vestal of the skies thou seemest, 
 All too divine for earthly love. 
 
 I can but sit and gaze upon thee, 
 I can but watch thee from afar, 
 
 As some lone wanderer o'er the desert 
 Looks upward to his Pilot-star.
 
 55 
 
 HUMAN WEAKNESS. 
 
 T T OW poor ! how frail we are ! resolves 
 That seem at first enthron'd so high 
 Within the soul, dissolve and die 
 
 As snow beneath the sun dissolves. 
 
 Weak beings are we at the best, 
 
 The demon and the angel dwell 
 Together in the secret cell, 
 
 The inmost of each human breast. 
 
 Great visions of perfection rise 
 
 Resplendent on our longing view, 
 But Man is to himself untrue, 
 
 And action wastes itself in sighs.
 
 56 Human Weakness. 
 
 Oh Thou to whom the soul of Man 
 
 Is of great price, sustain that soul ! 
 Endue us with more self control, 
 
 Aid us to perfect what we plan.
 
 ;>7 
 
 THE RIPPLING OF THE WATER, 
 
 r I ^HE rippling of the water, 
 
 List to what it saith ; 
 It revealeth mysteries, 
 
 Tales of life and death. 
 Sit and list its murmur, 
 
 Listen to it long, 
 And echoes in thy heart shall rise, 
 
 Responsive to the song. 
 
 All thy life's commotion 
 
 Seems therein to be; 
 List the tale it telleth, 
 
 For it flows for thee : 
 List, till Past and Present, 
 
 And the future seem 
 Blent in melody together, 
 
 Like a rippling stream. 
 i
 
 58 The Rippling of the Water. 
 
 Pure tlio water cometh 
 
 From its far-off springs, 
 Pure it floweth onward, 
 
 Teaching many things ; 
 Pure as its pure current 
 
 Let our life's tide be, 
 Gently rippling onward 
 
 To Eternity.
 
 5«J 
 
 THE DREAMER. 
 
 " And they said one to another, Behold ! this Dreamer 
 cometh. Come now, therefore, and let us slay him." 
 
 Genesis xxxvii. 19, 20. 
 
 Q HOtTLD one arise and speak an honest mind ; 
 
 Or haply tell a vision he has had, 
 How that in future times — days yet afar — 
 The World, grown great in reverence, should bow 
 
 down 
 Before the forms august of Love and Truth, 
 And sit at Wisdom's feet, and humbly learn 
 The long-neglected lesson — Charity ; — 
 Should one arise and after this sort speak, 
 " Lo ! now this Dreamer cometh," saith the crowd ; 
 " Let us arise and slay him;" and forthwith 
 They heap upon him ignominies vile, 
 And persecutions manifold, the hurts 
 Of sland'rous tongues and ill-report, and all
 
 GO The Dreamer. 
 
 That most embitters life ; — which he bears meekly, 
 
 Knowing- that if he be the sent of God, 
 
 Patient endurance is his duty here ; 
 
 And having spoken what to him seem'd truth, 
 
 He waits the end in confidence and hope. 
 
 Then when the times of spiritual dearth 
 
 Have fallen upon the world — when men are lost 
 
 In deserts of conjecture, wandering wide 
 
 'Mid darkness blacker than the depths of night — 
 
 This Dreamer having of the grace of God, 
 
 Becomes the guide and saviour of his race, 
 
 Dispenser of those harvestings of thought 
 
 Which put new life into the veins of the world, 
 
 And they who persecuted stand for judgment 
 
 Before him, and with downcast looks implore 
 
 His mercy and forgiveness — what doth he? 
 
 He falleth on their necks and kisseth them, 
 
 And bids them be of good cheer ; " For," saith he, 
 
 " Are ye not all my Brothers? — I rejoice 
 
 " That God has blessed my sorrows to your good."
 
 61 
 
 LOVE WORSHIP. 
 
 A H Beloved ! many stars are beaming 
 Through this Autumn night, 
 Many stars like lonely meteors gleaming 
 
 O'er yon wooded height — 
 On the quiet harvest-fields are streaming 
 
 Floods of silver light ; 
 But my thoughts are fix'd on earthly splendour 
 
 Sweeter far than that which smiles above ; 
 Unto one fair form do I surrender 
 All my heart of love. 
 
 Unto one dear form, the brightest, fairest 
 
 That these eyes have seen ; 
 Of all pearls of price the richest, rarest, 
 Of all Beauty the apparent Queen.
 
 62 Love-Worship. 
 
 For the light that makes her lovely cometh 
 From the radiant soul that reigns within ; 
 That — a perfect flower of Eden bloomcth, 
 With no blight of sin. 
 
 Grace and beauty radiate from her ever, 
 And the wonder of her presence seems 
 
 Like that rare perfection we may never 
 Gaze on but in dreams. 
 
 God's fair Angel of the earth she smileth 
 Mid cocytan depths of sin and folly, 
 
 And the heart by power divine beguileth 
 Of all thoughts that are not sweet and holy. 
 
 Ah Beloved ! pure, unconscious Angel, 
 
 Thou wilt read these words from my weak hand ; 
 
 But the seci'et of their deep evangel 
 Wilt scarcely understand. 
 
 Thou art conscious of no special merit, 
 Earth's enraptured gaze on thee to draw,
 
 Love-Worship. 63 
 
 Heart and mind and soul and sense and spirit, 
 
 Being harmonized to Nature's law. 
 I to thee, too, am a stranger wholly, 
 
 Therefore strange will seem 
 All this worship which the world calls folly, 
 But which flows from feelings high and holy, 
 As I fondly deem. 
 
 I have worshipp'd Beauty with devotion, 
 
 One bright Iris having many parts ; 
 I have worshipp'd every noble feeling 
 That in thought or action finds revealing — 
 Worshipp'd every innocent emotion, 
 
 Of true human hearts. 
 These things are from God, — are God-like truly, 
 
 And meet for worship. As in thee I see 
 These high revelations blended throughly, 
 In harmonious concert working duly, 
 I will worship their pure light in Thee.
 
 64 Love- Worship. 
 
 And that adoration shall be Love — 
 
 Love — unbounded — deep 
 And pure as theirs who watch in Heaven above, 
 
 Whilst the world beneath is hush'd in sleep. 
 All thy loveliness to me shall render 
 
 Service good and great, 
 Store ray heart with feelings deep and tender, 
 Bathe my spirit in supernal splendour, 
 Well-nigh too divine for this our mortal state. 
 
 So shall I be raised in heart and spirit, 
 
 Raised in soul to something like to thee ; 
 Moulded by Love's hand till I inherit 
 
 Radiations of thy purity. 
 For this love of beauty which we cherish, 
 
 Is a bless'd and still-increasing store 
 Of mind and heart-wealth which shall never perish, 
 
 But grow to glorious issues evermore. 
 
 As I am, bound to the earth and earthy,
 
 Love-Worship. 65 
 
 And meaner than the most of things I see, 
 Too well I feel that I am all unworthy, 
 
 Ev'n for one moment's space to gaze on thee ; 
 But in the hands of Love — high Queen of Nature, 
 
 I place my spirit, trusting to her power, 
 To raise my drooping soul to thy fair stature, 
 
 And from the crude hud to evoke the flower. 
 
 Until then I will work on in silence, 
 
 Trusting the high influence of Love ; 
 Trusting that, — and having firm reliance 
 
 On the unseen powers that reign above — 
 Work on, strive on, with serene endeavour, 
 
 Struggle manfully against my doom, 
 Nothing doubting, fainting, drooping never, 
 
 Till I know the glorious advent come : 
 Then Beloved, pure unconscious Angel, 
 
 Thou wilt read these words from my weak hand, 
 And the meaning of their deep evangel 
 Wilt wholly understand. 
 
 K
 
 66 
 
 ILLUSIONS. 
 
 r I ^HE same earth holds us; the same air 
 That wings the cry of my despair, 
 
 May waft thy laughter silver-sweet; 
 Yet never more in woe or mirth, 
 Upon the brow of this broad earth, 
 
 Shall thou and I together meet. 
 
 Yet oft when fancy holds the rein, 
 And paints her marvels on the brain, 
 
 When all the world is hush'd in sleep, 
 Such strange and sweet imaginings ! 
 Such wonderful illusive things ! 
 
 Within my mind their advent keep.
 
 Illusions. 67 
 
 I think of thee as of a star 
 In heaven, immeasurably far 
 
 Within the sky's pavilion'd blue, 
 So deep in the abyss of night, 
 That never may its holy light 
 
 Be visible to mortal view. 
 
 We feel full well that it is there, 
 Divinely bright, supremely fair, 
 
 Yet may not see its gentle beams, 
 Save when the soul in sleep is free 
 From cloggings of mortality, 
 
 Then they illumine all our dreams. 
 
 Anon I seem to hear thy voice 
 Bidding my mournful heart rejoice, 
 
 And glory in its grievous load ; 
 Bidding me clasp unto my breast 
 This sorrow as a welcome guest, 
 
 Since sorrow draws us nearer God.
 
 68 Illusions. 
 
 Anon methinks I see thee stand 
 Beside my couch, and in my hand 
 
 I clasp thy taper fingers small ; 
 And looking upward on thy face, 
 I feel thy mild eyes' saintly rays 
 
 Into my heart's still chambers fall. 
 
 Then dost thou bend to kiss my brow, 
 Whilst I say softly, " Is it thou ? — 
 
 " Are those thine eyes so calm and deep ?" 
 And then the moon-ray in my room 
 Is the sole light that breaks the gloom, 
 
 And long and bitterly I weep.
 
 69 
 
 HUMAN PROGRESS. 
 
 A GES upon Ages vanish, 
 
 And no mighty Thinker cometh 
 To look forth into the darkness 
 That o'er earth's horizon loometh. 
 
 All the lights are from the rearward, 
 And the armies of the Nations 
 
 Pitch their tents, and dwell in quiet, 
 Hedg'd by old associations. 
 
 Ages upon ages vanish, 
 
 Still the host lies dark and sightless ; — 
 Then the mighty Thinker cometh, 
 
 And the world is bathed in brightness.
 
 70 Human Progress. 
 
 Rays are sent into the future, 
 
 All the waken'd present bloometh, 
 
 And the past acquires new meaning, 
 When the mighty Thinker cometh. 
 
 Cometh as of old he came, 
 
 When Israel's burden'd children knew him ; 
 Stands the prophet of the people, 
 
 And the words of God flow through him. 
 
 Then the tents in haste are folded, 
 
 And throughout the close-ranged masses 
 
 The electric spark, that wakes them 
 To desire of action, passes. 
 
 Then the march goes bravely onward, 
 When the words of Truth are spoken ; 
 
 Rocks are hewn and forests fell'd, 
 And Error's leaden bondage broken.
 
 Human Progress. 71 
 
 Their appointed King hath found them, 
 
 And the armies of the Nations 
 Follow his God-guided footsteps 
 
 With great joy and acclamations. 
 
 Leave behind the pleasant pastures, 
 
 And the flesh-pots of the present; 
 Follow the great Leader's standard, 
 
 Be it Ark, or Cross, or Crescent. 
 
 Strusr?le onward to the Land 
 
 On which they see his eagle-glance bent, 
 There once more to pitch their tents, 
 
 Amid an era of advancement. 
 
 There to rest on past experience, 
 
 Till another master cometh, 
 Speaks the further Will of Heaven, 
 
 And the leader's wand resumeth.
 
 72 
 
 " EVANGELINE." 
 
 /""^ REAT is thy hymn of Evangeline, wonderful 
 
 western-world Singer, 
 Sad is the wail of its music, yea, " sad as the wind 
 
 through the forest ;'' 
 Great is the lesson it teacheth of constant and pa- 
 tient endurance, 
 And great the Religion of Sorrow enshrined in its 
 
 sanctified pages ; 
 Sad, and yet noble and true, for the Truest himself 
 
 first reveal'd it ; 
 High is its mystical import, and pointing eternally 
 
 skyward ; 
 For blessed are those whom affliction hath raised 
 
 to the portals of Heaven, 
 There to be greeted as Children, who joy in the 
 
 smile of their Father.
 
 " Evangeline." 73 
 
 Great is thy hymn of Evangeline, wonderful western- 
 world Singer, 
 Falling like dew on a Land that is scorch'd by the 
 
 Sun of Self-worship ; — 
 Falling like voices of Angels, to banish the rage 
 
 and contention 
 Of those who are blind to the love of the infinite 
 
 Maker and Father, 
 Who gently chastiseth his loved ones, that they 
 
 may repose in his bosom 
 Freed from the stains of the earthly, and fitted to 
 
 share in his nature, 
 Which hath been and shall be for ever the highest — 
 
 the holiest — the purest. 
 
 Great is thy hymn of Evangeline, proving the might 
 
 of affection, 
 Which is in itself a Pieligion, though few be the 
 
 hearts that so feel it, 
 h
 
 74 " Evangeline." 
 
 Hare as that rarest of flowers that hloometh hut 
 
 once in a life-time ; 
 Yet thanks he to God for the faith that affection 
 
 shall bourgeon and blossom, 
 Alheit slowly yet surely, till earth shall be fill'd 
 
 with its fulness, 
 And love be the law of our being as 'tis with the 
 
 Angels of Heaven. 
 
 Fearlessly stands forth the Bard as the Prophet, 
 the Guide, and the Teacher, 
 
 Drawing his high inspiration direct fronfthe Foun- 
 tain of Wisdom, 
 
 Pointing mankind to the path that God wills they 
 should walk in, and therefore 
 
 Great is thy hymn of Evangeline, Poet broad-soul'd 
 and deep-hearted. 
 
 Thou who so clearly hast seen that thy magical art 
 is God's servant,
 
 " Evangeline." 75 
 
 The channel through which he revealeth his ways 
 to his wondering- children ; 
 
 So hast thou made it all holy, as writ 'neath the 
 eye of the Highest, 
 
 And therefore all honour be thine till the ages to 
 come shall re-echo, 
 
 Great is thy hymn of Evangeline, wonderful western- 
 world Singer.
 
 76 
 
 NIGHT IN THE CITY. 
 
 O OLEMNLY tolls the Cathedral clock 
 
 The midnight hour, — 
 
 And the old gray tower 
 
 Seems to reel and rock 
 
 'Neath the ponderous shock 
 
 Of the iron bell, 
 Giving a voice to the passing time, 
 With something strange in the clang and the chime, 
 Which suiteth the wan weird moonlight well. — 
 
 The weird wan moonlight looketh down, 
 And silvers the roofs of the silent town — 
 Silvers the stones of the silent street, 
 That erewhile echoed to busy feet, 
 As to and fro the multitude went, 
 Each on his special purpose bent,
 
 Night in the City. 77 
 
 Some thought brooding on every brow, 
 Some thought of sorrow, of joy, or fear; 
 But the long straight street is silent now, 
 And the wan weird moonlight alone is here. — 
 
 No, not alone ; — in its light so fair, 
 
 In its beams so beautiful, here and there, 
 
 Pallid forms are wandering by, 
 
 Each form with another attending — Despair, — 
 
 That casts its wild light over cheek and eye ; — 
 
 Oh God of Heaven, 'tis a sight of fear, 
 
 And the laugh is sadder than any sigh, 
 
 And the word of love, in its mockery, 
 
 Is the saddest sound that can greet the ear. 
 
 Alas for the gentle heart of Woman I 
 
 Betray 'd and trampled and sear'd and broken ; 
 
 Ah by many a bitter token, 
 
 Woe in this world is too common — too common !
 
 78 Night in the City. 
 
 But the radiant moonbeams heed not the woe, 
 As from heaven above to the earth below, 
 In their silvery splendour they silently fall, 
 And fling their sweet mantle of beauty o'er all ; 
 They fall over all, and they silently steep 
 The slumbering street in their holy light, 
 And standing before us so pure and bright, 
 Seem like guardian-angels from heaven's height 
 Descended, their shadowy vigils to keep, 
 Through the long night-hours, o'er this city of sleep. 
 
 Strange dreams are hovering here and there, 
 
 Leading many a soul away 
 
 From its prostrate mansion of finite clay — 
 
 Leading it far through the realms of air, 
 
 To paradisal regions fair, 
 
 'Neath the spirit of Beauty's perfect sway ; 
 
 Or plunging it down to the crypts of despair, 
 
 For ever exil'd from the light of day.
 
 Night in the City. 79 
 
 So pass the hours of the silent night, 
 And after the day's long roar and riot, 
 Very sweet is this holy quiet, 
 Very soothing this soft moon-light. 
 
 But lo I in the heavens the morning breaking, 
 O'er the city its glimmering lustre flings, 
 And the guardian spirits unfold their wings, 
 Back into ether their calm flight taking ; 
 The morn is breaking blank and gray, 
 And far in the east the first faint ray 
 Comes as the herald of kingly Day. — 
 Then shall the slumberers round awaken, 
 Resuming their being's suspended plan ; 
 And the mighty heart of the city be shaken, 
 By the throbs of the mighty heart of Man. 
 
 Ah ! when shall that holier dawn arise, 
 
 When the fetter'd Giant — the Human Mind, —
 
 80 Night in the City. 
 
 Attaining' mature and perfect size, 
 
 Shall ray his glories to mortal eyes, 
 
 And breathe his paeans to mortal ears 
 
 Clear as the songs of the starry spheres ; 
 
 Standing God-like and unconfined, 
 
 With the fetters lying around him broken 
 
 By words of Truth which brave hearts have spoken ; 
 
 Words winging their way over land and sea, 
 
 Fraught with the blessings of liberty ; 
 
 Ah ! when shall that glorious advent be ?
 
 81 
 
 A MOUNTAIN DREAM. 
 
 '"T^HE golden Sun is high in heaven, 
 
 The morning mist is clear'd away ; 
 And on a thousand mountain-peaks 
 Is shower'd the glorious day. 
 
 Upon a thousand mountain-peaks, 
 
 And on a thousand vales below, 
 Where, murm'ring through the birchen-glades, 
 
 The sweet-voiced rivers flow. 
 
 Right up among the silent hills 
 
 I take my pathless way, alone, 
 To find, amid their fastnesses, 
 
 An empire of mine own. 
 
 M
 
 82 A Mountain Dream. 
 
 O'er lonely moors I take my way, 
 
 Through rocky glens, o'er hill-tops high ; 
 
 Past many a black and silent Tarn, 
 Suspended near the sky. 
 
 Now am I in this region's heart, 
 
 The inmost shrine of solitude, 
 The spirit of the wilderness 
 
 Doth round my footsteps brood. 
 
 Right joyfully I take my seat 
 
 Upon the gorgeous heather bloom, 
 
 Upon its beauty feast mine eyes, 
 And breathe its rich perfume. 
 
 Oh wild, wild desert solitude, 
 
 Thou art all round about me spread, 
 
 Wide waves the heather on the moors, 
 Clouds crown the mountain's head.
 
 A Mountain Dream. 83 
 
 List to yon lordly Eagle's scream, 
 As to his rock-built throne he sails, 
 
 And bears away right haughtily 
 His tribute from the vales. — 
 
 His tribute — savage mountain King, 
 My swelling soul with thee would rise, 
 
 Sweep through the clouds, and share with thee 
 Thy throne amid the skies. 
 
 'Tis done, the morning gives me wings, 
 And I have reach'd the Eagle's throne : 
 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! — the haughty King 
 And I, are all alone. 
 
 A thousand lakes are glittering bright, 
 
 Eagle, beneath my gaze and yours, 
 All set, like gems of living light, 
 
 Amid the barren moors.
 
 84 A Mountain Dream. 
 
 Eagle, this empire is our own, 
 Our own as far as we can see ; 
 
 Hurrah ! — this is a glorious throne, 
 And mighty Kings are we. — 
 
 But list ! from out their distant caves 
 The winds awaken with a howl ; 
 
 The summer sky but late so fair, 
 Puts on a sullen scowl. 
 
 And now the scene is grim and black, 
 And, by the winds impetuous driven, 
 
 The storm-charged clouds and fiery rack 
 O'ercanopy the heaven. 
 
 And blacker still, and still more dense, 
 The canopy of darkness lowers, 
 
 And gathering round him all his strength, 
 The storm puts forth his powers.
 
 A Mountain Dream. 85 
 
 Wild, revel now the wind-gods keep, 
 Careering through the darken'd sky, 
 
 And to their weird and fiendish shouts 
 The Eagle shrieks reply. 
 
 Roll round us, all ye thunders, roll ! 
 
 Flash, all ye livid lightnings, flash ! 
 And through the open gates of heaven, 
 
 Ye mighty torrents dash ! 
 
 For what care we, the King and I ? 
 
 We sit apart and fear no wrong, 
 He with his tempest-beating wings, 
 
 I with a soul as strong. 
 
 We sit apart and fear no wrong, 
 
 The savage mountain-King and I ; 
 Wild mirth is in his royal heart, 
 
 And flashes from his eye.
 
 86 A Mountain Dream. 
 
 He gazes on the tempest's strife, 
 
 As to his nature 'twere allied ; 
 How bold, how stern, and strong he looks ! 
 
 Instinct with power and pride. — 
 
 And now he spreads his mighty wings, 
 Waves them, and spurns his rocky throne, 
 
 Whirls round upon the furious blast, 
 And I am left alone. 
 
 I wake, and lo ! a heathery bed 
 
 And murmur of a mountain -stream : 
 
 Where is the tempest? where the throne ? — 
 Can this have been a dream ?
 
 87 
 
 A SONG OF SORROW. 
 
 O EARCH not thou with impious eye 
 
 Into those funereal deeps 
 Where, worn out with agony, 
 
 The sad soul with sorrow sleeps. 
 Enter not with foot profane 
 
 Into those dim twilight cells, 
 Where, the constant guest of pain, 
 
 The life-weary mourner dwells. 
 
 Haply he hath sinn'd and suffer'd, 
 Haply he hath blameless been. 
 
 Yet hath suffer'd ; — curious mortal, 
 Nothing can be known or seen.
 
 88 A Song of Sorrow. 
 
 Leave the dark and blotted scroll, 
 Haste thee to the garish day ; 
 
 O'er the sorrows of the soul 
 Draw the curtain, come awav !
 
 89 
 
 HYMN TO THE STARS. 
 
 ~V^E blessed Stars that, like the eyes of Angels, 
 
 Look brightly down upon the midnight earth; 
 
 What voiceless Anthems and what mute Evangels, 
 
 In your harmonious looks of love have birth ! 
 Ye blessed Stars, to whose soft smile is given 
 
 Such perfect purity, we well may deem 
 That rays of the supernal light of heaven 
 
 Find way through you on earth's calm brow to 
 beam; 
 Ay, fondly ye look down on Nature, 
 And rill and river, lake and ocean, 
 Smile beneath your holy smiling, 
 And tremble with a sweet emotion. 
 
 N
 
 90 Hymn to the Stars. 
 
 The old-world worship in your radiant pages, 
 The dreamer's eye may yet delighted trace, 
 A gleam of beauty from the far-off ages, 
 The fair mythology of classic Greece ; 
 The herald Hermes, with resplendent pinion ; 
 
 Red Mars, a warrior for the battle set ; 
 Bright Jupiter, supreme in sky dominion ; 
 And Venus Amathusia, potent yet : — 
 These and many more still gather, 
 
 Sparkling through the sunless hours, 
 As though e'en yet they quaff'd the nectar 
 Nightly in Olympian bowers. 
 
 But oh, ye radiant prophets, ye are able 
 Far loftier lore than this to teach the heart, 
 
 And all the warm delights of antique fable, 
 Before the searching light of Truth depart ; 
 
 The soul of Man enfranchised from its prison , 
 Beholds the Starlight pale before the Sun,
 
 Hymn to the Stars. 9! 
 
 A purer morning on the world has risen, 
 The many are upgather'd in the one ; 
 One God, to claim the adoration 
 Of the enlarged uplifted soul ; 
 One God, the Parent of Creation ; 
 
 One God, to guide and guard the whole. 
 
 Bright Lamps of God, set in the deeps of heaven, 
 
 And rolling through the mystery of space, 
 So far removed from our dim world, that even 
 
 Ye seem beyond the bounds of time and place ; 
 What are ye? — are ye gems His footstool under? 
 
 Or are ye worlds where happy mortals dwell, 
 Or happier spirits ? — we are lost in wonder : — 
 We gaze, but what we gaze on cannot tell ; 
 We only can behold your splendour, 
 
 And clasp its beauty to our soul, 
 As clothed in radiance vast, yet tender, 
 Through the darken'd sky ye roll.
 
 92 Hymn to the Stars. 
 
 Mcthinks that while thus gazing on your beauty, 
 
 The heart should be uplifted to your sphere, 
 And all good feelings, love and faith and duty, 
 
 Unto the spirit's gaze undimm'd appear: 
 Not in an hour like this, 'raid mists of error 
 
 And doubt, to darkness should the soul decline, 
 But shaking off each vain and futile terror, 
 Should shine unclouded, as ye cloudless shine, 
 Ye blessed Stars of heaven, believing 
 
 That the pure light we see above 
 Is earnest of a wider radiance, 
 
 The smile of God's unbounded love. 
 
 Ye blessed Stars, the lesson ye are teaching 
 Cometh from God, and therefore should have 
 power, 
 Thus to the inmost of our nature reaching, 
 
 To guide our footsteps through Life's changeful 
 hour.
 
 Hymn to the Stars. 93 
 
 Ah ! may your sacred light be still beside us, 
 
 Still may we view it as the light of God, 
 Sent down in duty's narrow path to guide us, 
 The path by all the noble-hearted trod. 
 Thus, Angel-eyes — thus, ye divine ones, 
 
 Let your radiance pure and fair, 
 Shine into the heart's still chambers, 
 Let your holy light rest there.
 
 94 
 
 A PROMISE. 
 
 r "F , HOU and I shall see the Rhine, 
 
 Ere this glorious Summer fade ; 
 There the things that now are dreams 
 
 Shall realities be made : 
 Thou and I shall see the Rhine, 
 
 Gentle friend, ere summer fade. 
 
 Often have we sat together 
 
 'Neath the pleasant linden trees, 
 
 When the sun was sinking low, 
 And the balmy evening breeze, 
 
 As it wander'd to and fro, 
 Wrought us rarest melodies.
 
 A Promise. 95 
 
 Then our thoughts have flown, united, 
 
 To that glorious German Land, 
 With its broad and bounteous river 
 
 Flowing on so calm and grand, 
 Whilst on its banks of varied beauty 
 
 The grey old Gothic castles stand. 
 
 Thou and I have loved the rivers 
 
 That engirdle this fair earth, 
 All the bright and beauteous rivers 
 
 That in mountain lands have birth, 
 And go flowing on for ever, — 
 
 Fruitful Angels to the earth. 
 
 But of all the glorious rivers 
 
 That beneath the Sunlight shine, 
 Dearest to our dreaming fancy 
 
 Is the broad and pleasant Rhine ; 
 Best and dearest to our fancy 
 
 Is the old and castled Rhine.
 
 • )6 A Promise. 
 
 Then lift thine eyelids' fringed shade, 
 And fix thy joyous eyes on mine, 
 
 Friend of friends, ere summer fade 
 Thou and I shall see the Rhine ; 
 
 Ere this glorious summer fade, 
 We will float upon the Rhino.
 
 97 
 
 THOUGHTS ON GREAT MINDS. 
 
 f~\ FT in my musings have I thought with awe 
 
 On the great loneness of the mightiest minds ; 
 How they do walk through life with no one near, 
 Coinpanionless in a vast solitude 
 And utter isolation, most supreme 
 Of eremites are these. These are the true 
 Saints of the pillar, — of the mountain-tops 
 Say rather. On the cloudy peaks they stand 
 Colossal; — far beneath them hums the world 
 From all its myriad hives : they catch the sound, 
 And meaning of the sound, and they alone ; 
 But if they speak, they are so far above 
 That none may hear them, and their words are cast 
 On passing winds, like seeds, and borne afar 
 To distant lands — lands which they may not see 
 
 o
 
 98 Thoughts on Great Minds. 
 
 Nor know, there to find ground and bear much 
 
 fruit, 
 Long ages after they who gave them birth 
 Have laid them down to their eternal rest. — 
 So have these spirits seem'd to me most lone, 
 Alone in an exceeding loneliness ; 
 Lone as the mountain peaks — lone as the stars 
 Millions of leagues in space — lone as the Sun 
 With not a cloud about him in the heavens. — 
 
 Yet 'mid such musings I have taken heart, 
 By deeming that for these removed ones 
 There is companionship we know not of, 
 And all-sufficing converse ; — that these Beings 
 With the great Spirit of the universe, 
 Who dwells in all things but is seen alone 
 Of these, do close and constant converse hold — 
 Such converse as would shatter meaner minds, 
 And paralyse to blindness weaker sense. 
 And I have deem'd that to their listening ears
 
 Thoughts on Great Minds. 99 
 
 The earth hath many voices ; — that the forms 
 Of Nature do address themselves to speech 
 In their behoof, ever instructing them 
 In misrhtiest secrets and sublimest lore. 
 And further that the depths of their own hearts 
 Are eloquent for these, revealing things 
 Whereof the world knows nothing; — that high 
 
 Truths 
 Do come to them in dreams — that visions bring 
 Celestial Visitations, such as ne'er 
 Are witness'd, or would be believed, by those 
 Who dwell amid the busy hives below. 
 
 And by so thinking I am calm'd and cheer'd, 
 And a great weight is lifted from my heart, 
 By seeing how through all things there doth run 
 High compensation. Whilst these better thoughts 
 Are with me, the great minds whereof I speak 
 Seem to put off their mantling hermit-weeds, 
 And straightway are attired in sun-bright robes
 
 100 Thoughts on Great Minds. 
 
 Of radiant exultation, like to them 
 
 Who stand eternal on the holy hill. 
 
 And thus these souls no longer seem alone, 
 
 As our weak fancy deem'd them, but companion'd 
 
 By ministering Angels ever prompt 
 
 To cheer them, and to guide them up to God. 
 
 Or if when we no longer see them here, 
 We speak of them as being pass'd away, 
 Unbless'd by the fulfilment of their dreams, 
 How know we they are pass'd away indeed, 
 Or that in sooth such spirits ever pass ? 
 What know we but that still they here abide, 
 Watching the harvest grow which they have sown, 
 And finding their exceeding great reward 
 And compensating happiness therein ?
 
 101 
 
 THE LOST DREAM. 
 
 T XT' HERE shall I find thee, dream of days 
 
 gone by ? 
 In what deep grove, beside what fabled stream, 
 Shall I recover thee, thou long-lost dream ? 
 Under the canopy of what sweet sky, 
 Beneath what southern sun's seraphic beam, 
 Abidest thou ? thou long-departed dream ! 
 Lost light of youth ! fair dream of days gone by ! 
 
 If I put forth my boat upon the sea, 
 
 And ply the w T eary oar 
 
 In search of thee, 
 I know not on what lone untrodden shore 
 
 Thou hast thy home ; 
 In what sea-grot, or mermaid-pcoplcd cell
 
 102 The Lost Dream. 
 
 Of the blue waters, thou dost dwell, 
 In what deep caverns cool and twilight gloom. 
 Alas ! I might as well 
 Seek for some spent wave's snowy foam, 
 Submerged in the vast ocean-stream, 
 As search for thee, thou long-departed dream ! 
 
 Ah dream, fair dream, false dream ! how couldst 
 
 thou part 
 From thy delightful dwelling in my heart ; 
 Didst thou not know that thou wert as a spell, 
 Making whatever thou encircledst bright ; 
 And lifting me into the realms of light ? 
 Knewest thou not that I did love thee well, 
 That thou wert dear as breath of life to me, 
 And that my very soul was merged in thee ? 
 Now thou art gone, I who was strong before 
 Shall be most weak and powerless evermore ; 
 The mountain-heights, where I would wish to be, 
 Without thine aid are inaccessible.
 
 The Lost Dream. 103 
 
 Return to me again ! sweet dream, come back 1 
 Dwell with me as thou didst when life was new, 
 And thou wert wont with bounteous hand to strew 
 Bright thoughts and brilliant hopes around my 
 
 track. 
 Ay me ! my pathway sombre grows and black 
 As though beneath the shadow of the yew 
 'Twere leading me. Come back, sweet dream, 
 
 come back ! 
 Restore me the blythe heart that once I knew. — 
 Alas ! most vain and fruitless is my prayer, 
 Xo glad fulfilment doth my longing meet, 
 No welcome answer my strain'd ear doth greet, 
 Mute are the void waves of the voiceless air, 
 Their silent passing leaves no token sweet 
 That thou hast hearken'd to my earnest cry. 
 Dream, thou hast died from out my world, and I 
 Shall never see thee more until / die, 
 Lost light of youth ! — fair dream of days gone by !
 
 104 
 
 TO THE ANGEL DEATH. 
 
 S^l ANGEL Death ! 
 
 Rebuker of disquietude and strife, 
 And mother of Immortal Life ! 
 
 The flowers of hope and faith, 
 When thou hast forth upon thy mission sped, 
 Give forth their richest and most balmy breath 
 
 Beneath thy gentle tread, 
 As thou dost wander all this wide world o'er, 
 To deal thy blessing of unbroken sleep, 
 With promise to the eyes that watch and weep, 
 That they shall watch and weep no more. 
 Enduring calm attends thy presence mild, 
 
 Thou takest the life-weary to thy breast, 
 And as a mother fondleth her sweet child, 
 Thou lullest them to rest.
 
 To the Angel Death. 105 
 
 O Angel Death ! 
 O Pilot to the one true bourne of ease, 
 Upon thy shining garment blossometh 
 The amaranth of Peace.
 
 106 
 
 THE CRY OF THE BENIGHTED. 
 
 " What am I ? 
 " An infant crying in the night, 
 " An infant crying for the light, 
 " And with no language but a cry." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 fT^ROM the world's earliest times till now, 
 The cry that from the earth's sad brow 
 Hath gone into the deeps of night — 
 The one wild long and mournful cry, 
 Solemnly journeying through the sky, 
 
 Hath been an earnest prayer for Light. 
 
 Light 'mid the labyrinth of our ways, 
 Light 'mid the darkness of our days, 
 
 Some Pilot-hope, some guiding star, - 
 Amid the agony and strife
 
 The Cry of the Benighted. 107 
 
 Of the wild sea of human life, 
 To shine upon us from afar. 
 
 Up through the dark blue firmament, 
 An anguish'd cry from white lips sent 
 
 To the great God, whose name is Love; 
 O Father, merciful and just, 
 Look down on thy created dust, 
 
 Look down upon us from above ! 
 
 Pity our weakness, lift us forth 
 From the foul mire-pits of the earth, 
 
 Whereto our souls so oft decline ; 
 Anoint us with thy saving grace, 
 Hide not the comfort of thy face, 
 
 But let us feel that we are thine. 
 
 Pity us, we are weak indeed, 
 We faint, we falter, have great need, 
 Father, of thy supporting hand ;
 
 108 The Cry of the Benighted. 
 
 Uphold us, strengthen and sustain 
 On Life's too crowded battle-plain, 
 
 For 'tis through thee alone we stand. 
 
 But chiefly as we struggle thus, 
 We pray thee, Father, grant to us 
 
 The priceless boon of inward sight ; 
 Whate'er it please thee to deny. 
 Deny not this ; oh hear our cry, 
 
 Endow us with thy gift of Light !
 
 109 
 
 MONSAL DALE. 
 
 A MEMORY. 
 
 y TOW bright thy memory beams upon my soul ! 
 Like the soft radiance of the harvest-moon 
 On upland meadows, thou dear spot of earth, 
 Thou pastoral valley clasp'd in the embrace 
 Of the eternal hills, that fondly hold 
 Thy peaceful aspect ever fresh and fair ! 
 Beloved Vale ! Oasis in the waste, 
 The dreary wilderness of heath-clad moors, 
 And black-brow'd mountains, in the midst of which 
 Thou smilest like a little paradise. 
 For me, in presence of far other scenes, 
 By duty chain'd to the throng'd haunts of men 
 That please me little, — thou hast still the power 
 To keep one green expanse of quiet thought,
 
 110 Monsal Dale. 
 
 One pleasant picture in my mental world, 
 With all the dewy freshness of the spring-, 
 With all the sunny wealth of summer hours, 
 And mellow fruitage of autumnal fields, 
 Resting upon it. Blessed be the power 
 Of memory, which thus gives thee back to me 
 With such unerring truth ; my mind and heart 
 Arc with thee, whercsoe'er my lot is cast. 
 
 In those past years to which these pleasant thoughts 
 
 Trace back their advent — those delightful years 
 
 When youth's warm fancy robed the world in light, 
 
 How often at the lazy hour of noon, 
 
 In the sweet time of summer, have I lain 
 
 Reclined upon the gently swelling slope 
 
 Of rising ground — heath-clad — that overlooks 
 
 Thy beautiful expanse of emerald meads 
 
 And sheltering mountains, which still keep those 
 
 meads 
 Of such a joyous and life-breathing hue !
 
 Monsal Dale. 11 J 
 
 While thy small river, like a slender thread 
 Of sparkling- silver, wound beneath the bowers 
 Of tangled hazle, leading thought away 
 To cool retreats by its clear waters' side — 
 To quiet nooks for studious hours o'er-arch'd 
 With foliage, quite impervious to the beams 
 Of the triumphant sun, which smote the crest 
 Of the fair summit where I lay and dream'd. 
 
 I loved the sunlight — there was life in it — 
 
 Ecstatic joy, — exhilarating sense 
 
 Of good and beauty. I would not have changed 
 
 My upland station 'neath the open smile 
 
 Of the blue heaven, in which I bask'd and revell'd, 
 
 For any foliage-curtain'd nook the Vale 
 
 Hid in its bosom. I was glad at heart, 
 
 Yet not with any wild unmeaning mirth, 
 
 But glad with a serene and thoughtful joy, 
 
 The tranquil feeling of a full content, 
 
 Which led the spirit on to quiet dreams.
 
 ] 12 Monsal Dale. 
 
 Ah, dreams and fancies manifold were mine 
 In those fair days ! and I believed them all 
 With that large faith which appertains alone 
 To youth, and its unworn and trusting heart. 
 And when I saw the summits of the hills 
 Crested with gold, and turn'd my raptured eyes 
 To the elysian Vale beneath, which lay 
 Outspread in all its placid loveliness, 
 It seem'd no fiction of the mind to deem 
 Those radiant sunbeams, so divine and pure, 
 Were beauteous-presenced Angels, keeping watch 
 In solemn silence o'er a Vale in Heaven. 
 
 Dreams all, yet not all futile, for in sooth 
 In this our conflict with an adverse world, — 
 This battle for existence — this stern strife, — 
 Amid the throng of falling men, intent 
 On their self-preservation, deaf and blind 
 (Not willingly but by necessity) 
 To aught but the material — we have great
 
 Monsal Dale. 113 
 
 And urgent need, to gather from the world 
 
 Of high Imagination all the aids 
 
 That we can grasp to keep our spirits pure, 
 
 And scatheless 'mid the many taints and stains 
 
 Of mortal life. Surely we have enough 
 
 Of things that all men understand 1 such things 
 
 Can wake no spirit-energy ; if these 
 
 Were all we sought for, then this world would soon 
 
 Stand still. No ; rather let us sometimes grasp 
 
 The wings of these strong dreams, and soar with 
 
 them 
 Into a loftier region, to behold 
 The complex workings of the world beneath 
 From nobler altitudes. If we have held 
 The balance well adjusted in our minds 
 'Twixt Thought and Action, from these airy flights 
 No weakness shall accrue, but rather strength — 
 Strength infinite, and knowledge of the ways 
 Of Man and Nature. Is Utility 
 To be our God ? and is the Beautiful 
 
 Q
 
 114 Monsal Dale. 
 
 To be ignored ? then why was this our earth 
 So plenteously adorn'd with all things fair, 
 Fashion'd so beauteously that to the eyes 
 Of the pure-hearted, gazing on her charms, 
 She seems the prelude of that fairer world, 
 A foretaste of that perfect paradise 
 Which is to be ? Rather than yield a base 
 And servile homage to the narrow creed 
 Of the utilitarian, let us seek 
 To blend as far as may be in this world, 
 Utility and beauty ; knowing well 
 That in some far-off age the time shall come, 
 When this shall be accomplish'd to the full 
 Of its divine perfection ; let us strive 
 To speed that blessed advent, by desire 
 Of it proving its possibility. 
 Ah 1 Time elysian — dawn of perfect life ! 
 When man and nature reconciled shall dwell 
 In harmony together; when the world, 
 Its task wrought out, its victory achieved,
 
 Monsal Dale. 115 
 
 Shall rest serenely in raillenial peace, 
 Rejoicing in the unclouded smile of God. 
 
 And thou, fair Vale ! remembrance of whose pure 
 
 And paradisal beauty, rising up 
 
 In startling contrast with the daily scenes 
 
 Of unredeem'd deformity midst which 
 
 My present lot is cast ; if I indulge 
 
 The darling wish, amid thy beauteous bowers 
 
 And emerald fields to found a peaceful home 
 
 And bourne for contemplation, I would deem 
 
 Such cherish'd wish is blameless, inasmuch 
 
 As I am conscious of this pure intent, 
 
 That for no torpid or inglorious ease, 
 
 For no excitement of the outward eye, 
 
 No enervating nourishment of self, 
 
 Nor even for mere mental luxury, 
 
 Would I seek refuge in thy solitudes ; 
 
 But rather to pursue the search for Truth 
 
 Untrammel'd ; — to work out some worthy thoughts,
 
 116 Monsal Dalk. 
 
 In my small measure, for the good of man 
 
 And for God's glory; to hold unrestrain'd 
 
 Converse with nature, striving to trace out 
 
 That hidden link which in this complex scheme 
 
 Somewhere unites her with humanity. 
 
 No shirking of the duties to which God 
 
 Has call'd me, in creating me a man, 
 
 Lurks in my purpose. In one beaten track 
 
 Sure all men are not call'd to walk, but some, 
 
 Obedient to the Spirit's voice within, 
 
 May turn aside into the silent glades 
 
 Of lonely contemplation, there to muse 
 
 On nature and the mystery of life. 
 
 Nor are such meditations profitless, 
 
 Or void of good to the great family 
 
 In whose behoof the lonely dreamer work?, 
 
 Who, if he take the love of Truth to be 
 
 The pilot of his musings, works right well 
 
 And nobly, though the world discern it not.
 
 Monsal Dale. 117 
 
 This is my Faith ; and thus I deem it wise, 
 With warm heart-worship to prefer this prayer 
 To nature, in whose arms my spirit rests, 
 Trustful and tranquil as a little child. 
 
 Mother Nature ! love me as thy child, 
 And with thine other children cherish me ; 
 
 1 would claim brotherhood with woods and hills, 
 Rocks, vales, and singing rivers ; I would learn 
 Their language, and through sunny summer days 
 Companion them : yea, all their loveliness 
 Enweave into my being and my mind ; 
 
 And as the tender babe draws nourishment 
 
 From the glad parent's breast, dear Mother Nature, 
 
 Would I be fed by thee, and from thee draw 
 
 The milk of human kindness, for I know 
 
 That thou art full of all sweet sympathies 
 
 And pure affections, and the life they lead 
 
 Is blameless, of all such as trust in thee.
 
 118 Monsal Dale. 
 
 Dear Mother Nature ! 'mid a scene like that, 
 Whose memory lightens all my mental world, 
 So perfect is its loveliness, methinks 
 The Spirit, 'neath thy sheltering wings shut in 
 From the fierce passions and the ceaseless rage 
 Of the great outer-world, might rise in power 
 To something holy ; and the human heart, 
 By an intense communion with itself, 
 Grow great in a sublime simplicity, 
 And nobly wise in a religious lore ; 
 For all the phases of thy loveliness 
 Are as the leaves of an eternal book, 
 Whereon are writ, in glowing characters, 
 The boundless mercy and the love of God. 
 
 There comes an hour when we must bid farewell 
 To fairest thoughts as well as fairest things. 
 My dream is ended — that delightful dream 
 Which with magician spell hath call'd the past 
 Into the present, and transform'd for me
 
 Monsal Dale. 119 
 
 One hour of common and material life 
 
 Into a glimpse of paradise. Farewell, 
 
 Sweet Valley ! how I linger on the words, 
 
 As loath to leave thee ! but the dream dies off, 
 
 And why should I protract it ? let it go — 
 
 While to the thought of thee in these brief words — 
 
 Brief, yet as full of love as grateful sense 
 
 Of all the rapture thou hast yielded me 
 
 Can make them — I thus bid a fond adieu. 
 
 Farewell, sweet Vale ! on which the Summer Sun 
 Delights to gaze, and where the wanton breeze, 
 That bears from mountain-summits far away 
 The glorious perfume of the heather-flower, 
 Folds its light wings and rests ; where all is peace, 
 And pastoral quietude and loveliness, 
 Where the clear river mirrors on its breast 
 The blue of an almost Italian sky — 
 Temple of Solitude, a long farewell ;
 
 120 Monsal Dale. 
 
 Fair bourne of many musings, fare-thee-well ! 
 The benediction of a grateful heart 
 Be on thee ; Sanctuary of sweet Peace, 
 Green palace of that Angel, fare-thee-well !
 
 121 
 
 TO THE SPIRIT OF LOVE. 
 
 QTAR 'mid our darkness ! fair Angel of heaven ! 
 
 Pure warmth from above, 
 Solace to weary mortality given, 
 Spirit of Love ! 
 List to my prayer to thee, 
 Show thy sweet face to me, 
 Rise on my longing sight, 
 Make me thine eremite, 
 All thy pure warmth and light 
 Give me to prove. 
 
 All that is brightest and best in our being 
 
 Cometh from thee ; 
 Hope of existence, sole light of my seeing, 
 
 Be thou to me. 
 
 K
 
 122 To the Spirit of Love. 
 
 Sad is our mortal lot, 
 Lonely where thou art not, 
 As to the Mariner 
 Far on the Ocean drear 
 Cast, when no lunar sphere 
 'Lumines the Sea. 
 
 Self, like a demon, possesses the spirit 
 
 Where thou art unknown ; 
 But once let the soul thy true presence inherit, 
 And the demon is gone : — 
 Gone to its native night, 
 Scared by thy form of light, 
 Gliding in loveliness, 
 Strength and devotedness, 
 Gliding — the world to bless — 
 Graciously on. 
 
 All things of earth wear an aspect divine, 
 Clothed in thy light;
 
 To the Spirit of Love. 123 
 
 A wonderful spell of enchantment is thine, 
 Of glory and might. 
 Led by thy gentle hand, 
 Reach we the promised land ; 
 Beams from elvsian skies 
 Burst on our raptured eyes, 
 Vistas of Paradise 
 
 Ope to our sight. 
 
 Oh ! make my bosom thy dwelling-place wholly, 
 
 Spirit benign ; 
 Pure aspirations and impulses holy 
 
 Bring to thy shrine : 
 List to my prayer to thee, 
 Show thy sweet face to me, 
 Rise on my longing sight 
 Clothed in celestial light, 
 Make me thine eremite, 
 
 Spirit divine.
 
 124 
 
 THE CONFLICT. 
 
 I BEHELD a war 
 
 Be — „„«-,,. 
 Heaven, 
 Veiling the azure deeps with crimson haze. 
 The Battle-field was wonderful, for lo ! 
 It was the body of a Man ; the foes, 
 Lock'd in death-grapple, were the Flesh and 
 
 Spirit ; — 
 And fierce they strove. I stood apart and watch'd, 
 Much wondering, fearing, somewhat hoping too. 
 Many auxiliars came on either side, 
 And join'd the conflict ; for the Flesh appear'd — 
 Temptations and Desires — a mighty host 
 Of mould so strange, that though the Spirit's Sword
 
 The Conflict. 125 
 
 Cleft them in twain full oft, they ever closed, 
 And were themselves again. Then in my breast 
 Hope fail'd, but grew once more when I beheld 
 That to the Spirit's side there came from heaven 
 Beautiful Beings, on quick glancing wings, 
 And shadowy forms gigantic of Resolves ; 
 And from the earth a glorious multitude, 
 Of great Ensamples, like the sun for brightness ; 
 And that there sprang fountains of holy thoughts, 
 With healing in their waters, to restore 
 The toil-spent Spirit's drooping energies. 
 And I beheld — though not with outward sight — 
 Myriads of Angel-faces gather'd round, 
 Watching the conflict with expectant eyes ; 
 And fierce that conflict grew, and still more fierce 
 As nearing consummation, till at last 
 The Spirit triumph'd, and the Flesh subdued 
 Sank lifeless. Then the Spirit spread its wings, 
 And soar'd right upward to the Throne of God, 
 Radiant with victory ; and bending there
 
 126 The Conflict. 
 
 Claim'd the reward of its good soldiership, 
 Which God withheld not ; and the Angel Death 
 Wreath'd her white arms around the bruised clay, 
 And laid it peacefully within the grave.
 
 127 
 
 THOUGHTS IN DOVEDALE. 
 
 A H ! it is a thought of beauty, 
 That the all-wise Creator's plan 
 Has made Man the child of duty, 
 Bade him live and work for Man. 
 
 Bade us live and work together 
 For all high and noble ends ; 
 Bade us love our brothers, whether 
 Thev appear as foes or friends. 
 
 Bade us dwell in social union, 
 
 In obedience to his law ; 
 
 And from close and wise communion, 
 
 Strength to shape our life's act draw.
 
 128 Thoughts in Dovedale. 
 
 But in battling for existence, 
 Striving with an adverse fate, 
 Working on with firm persistence, 
 We grow weary soon or late. 
 
 And we turn for strength and solace, 
 To the rest which Nature yields ; 
 Drinking life-draughts from her chalice 
 'Mid the quiet woods and fields. 
 
 Nor is it a weak delusion 
 That we cherish ; — it is good 
 Oftentimes to seek seclusion, 
 And glean strength from solitude. 
 
 And dear Nature still doth woo us 
 To draw comfort from her charms, 
 For life's battle to renew us, 
 Nestling in her loving arms.
 
 Thoughts in Dovedale. 129 
 
 Therefore for our souls reviving, 
 To be heal'd of many a wound, 
 Come we hither, worn with striving 
 'Mid the ills that hem us round. 
 
 And hence to the wide- world going, 
 To life's battle will we pass, 
 Error from our pathway mowing, 
 As the mower mows the grass. 
 
 Hence unto the world returning, 
 With renewal of our youth, 
 Will we join the conflict, burning 
 To do mighty deeds for Truth. 
 
 Spite of this the thought comes creeping 
 O'er us, that perchance 'twere well 
 To forego this conflict-keeping, 
 And for ever here to dwell.
 
 130 Thoughts in Dovedale. 
 
 Here— with woods and rocks around us, 
 Here — beside this vocal stream, 
 Rest, till the ideal crown'd us 
 With its brightest fairest dream. 
 
 How each flow'r seems bright with meaning, 
 How the leaves have tales to tell, 
 Evermore our pathway screening 
 Through this weird romantic dell. 
 
 How the gray rocks o'er us tower, 
 Seam'd with scars from brow to base, 
 And what thoughts of silent power 
 In their rugged fronts we trace. 
 
 Sure this is our sigh'd-for haven, 
 We will leave it ne'er again ; 
 Fix our thoughts alone on heaven, 
 And renounce the ways of men.
 
 Thoughts in Dovedale. 131 
 
 Ah, how false ! — neglecting Duty, 
 Traitors to life's noblest law, 
 Nature would withhold her beauty 
 From us, and her smile withdraw. 
 
 Only to the constant-hearted, 
 Only to the dutiful, 
 Is the Spirit-light imparted 
 That makes Nature beautiful.
 
 132 
 
 SONG LEARNT THROUGH SORROW. 
 
 Most wretched men 
 Are cradled into poetry by wrong ; 
 They learn in sorrow what they teach in song. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 A Y ! Song is learnt through Sorrow; — Grief 
 alone 
 Can string the chords of the celestial Lyre, 
 To that deep utterance which acceptance finds 
 In the great Temple where Urania stands 
 To weigh the merit, of her worshippers. — 
 Ay ! Song is taught by Sorrow ; scalding tears, 
 That plough deep channels in the pallid cheeks 
 Down which they roll, and slowly-breaking hearts, 
 For ever breaking, yet for ever strong ; 
 And over all, a firm and stedfast mind, 
 Unwavering in its love of all things good,
 
 SoXG LEARNT THROUGH SORROW. 133 
 
 And faith in all things beautiful and true : — 
 
 These are the sources of those solemn psalms 
 
 That float above the clouds of this strange world 
 
 Like anthems of the Angels ; Pa?ans grand, 
 
 Immortal in their nature, which shall live, 
 
 And stir the ever-restless heart of Man, 
 
 So long as Time tenants Eternity ; 
 
 And after that, shall fuse and blend themselves 
 
 With those supernal harmonies whereof 
 
 They are a part — the harmonies of heaven ; 
 
 As starlight, when the morn awakes the world, 
 
 Is lost in the effulgence of the Sun ; 
 
 Or as the hum of an assembled crowd 
 
 Is overpower'd, when the great organ rolls 
 
 Its clouds of music through cathedral aisles.
 
 134 
 
 A MEMORIAL. 
 
 QOLDIER of God I thy fight was good, 
 
 Thy heart was large, thy will was strong ; 
 Brave Warrior ! who hast boldly stood 
 
 To fight for Truth, to combat wrong ; 
 Thine arms were words of lightning-power, 
 And grandly, through the darken'd hour, 
 
 Their living thunder boom'd along; 
 Till loud o'er earth's tumultuous noise, 
 The wide heavens echoed to thy voice. 
 
 Soldier of God ! thy rest is sweet, 
 Thy day of glorious strife is o'er ; 
 
 The doubts that chill, the hopes that cheat, 
 Shall vex thy noble heart no more. 
 
 Beside the booming ocean-wave,
 
 A Memorial. 135 
 
 Thou liest in thy narrow grave, 
 
 And that lone grave, on that wild shore, 
 Is as a monument sublime, 
 To stand through all the after-time. 
 
 Soldier of God ! thy soul is blest, 
 
 Freed from its clog of mortal clay, 
 Beneath its Master's smile to rest 
 
 In yon far heaven's unclouded day ; 
 Hearing a voice which says, " Well done, 
 " Thou faithful Servant ! thou hast won 
 
 " The bliss which shall not pass away, 
 " For that thou ledd'st in fearless vouth 
 " Mine armies in the fight for Truth."
 
 13G 
 
 THE STARS OF EARTH. 
 
 r I "'HE Stars of heaven, the stars of heaven ! 
 
 They cluster round the crescent moon, 
 Their radiant myriads glow and glisten 
 Continuous through the night's deep noon. 
 
 The Stars of heaven — all night they gather 
 
 In yon sublime pavilion fair, 
 And sparkle through the solemn silence, 
 
 And fill with peace the soft blue air. 
 
 The beauteous Stars, how sweet their smilinjr ! 
 
 How soft their light on plain and hill ! 
 Reflected in the lake's calm bosom, 
 
 Or shimmering in the mountain rill.
 
 The Stars of Earth. 137 
 
 The blessed Stars ! in their pure presence 
 
 What holy harmonies have birth ! 
 Yet still our spirits from them wander, 
 
 To rest upon the stars of earth. 
 
 For Earth has Stars as well as heaven, 
 Whose soft sweet eyes and gentle forms 
 
 Like guardian Angels gather round us, 
 And beam through all our blackest storms. 
 
 Fair fireside stars, whose steady radiance 
 Fills all our life with light and love ; 
 
 Dear stars of home, our spirits hold you 
 As sisters to those Stars above. 
 
 Bright Household Stars I so sweet the comfort, 
 
 So large the joy your love imparts, 
 lhat dear as breath of life we hold you, 
 
 And bless you from our heart of hearts. 
 
 T
 
 138 The Stars of Earth. 
 
 Ye are the sum of earth's perfection, 
 The crowning grace of nature's plan, 
 
 The richest treasure life affords us, 
 The dearest gift of God to man. 
 
 O stars of earth I if you were wanting, 
 
 How blank those stars of heaven would seem ! 
 
 Wild were our pathway then and dreary, 
 Small comfort left on life's dark stream. 
 
 But our sad souls by you supported, 
 Still find you with deep blessings rife, 
 
 Glean solace still in every sorrow, 
 And walk erect through mortal life. 
 
 This sovereign intellect o'er-reaches, 
 
 Thought grows, but life's best joys decrease ; 
 
 Then, your mild heart-lore steals upon us, 
 And wins us back to love and peace.
 
 The Stars of Earth. 139 
 
 Beneath your gentle power, our spirits 
 
 Grow pure as 'neath a sacred ray ; 
 From heaven are ye sent down as Angels 
 
 To guide us on our devious way. 
 
 O stars of earth ! so sweet your smiling, 
 Your looks of love so pure and fair, 
 
 Ye half eclipse those stars of heaven 
 That twinkle through the soft blue air.
 
 140 
 
 TO THE EVENING BREEZE. 
 
 A H, where hast thou been wandering, Breeze 
 
 of Even, 
 Through the slow lapse of these balm-breathing 
 hours ? 
 From what most favour'd spot of earth or heaven, 
 Bringest thou this ambrosial breath of flowers ? 
 From what oasis, from what rare retreat 
 Of beauty, com'st thou with this odour sweet ? 
 
 Hast thou been loitering in the olden woods, 
 In mossy nooks where sylvan forms abide, 
 
 And lilies, ladies of the solitudes, 
 
 Look coldly down into the crystal tide 
 
 Of the small brooklet, that, in rapturous song, 
 
 Hymns their high praises as it leaps along ?
 
 To the Evening Breeze. 141 
 
 Hast thou been playing 'raid the waterfalls 
 That fill with music many a mountain-glen ? 
 
 Hast thou been sporting in the crystal halls 
 Where Naiads dwell unseen of mortal men ; 
 
 And art thou come, thou wanton evening breeze, 
 
 To tell our spirits pleasant tales of these ? 
 
 Hast thou been wandering o'er the waves afar, 
 'Mid fabled gardens of the Hesperides ; 
 
 Or those fair isles, each lying like a star 
 On the broad bosom of the southern seas, 
 
 Elysian isles unvisited by storms, 
 
 And richly stored with beauty's rarest forms ? 
 
 Hast thou been eddying in the flower-crown'd 
 keeps 
 Of ruin'd castles and forsaken halls, 
 Where the hoar spirit of the ages sleeps, 
 
 Wreath'd with rank mosses 'mid the crumbling 
 walls ;
 
 142 To the Evening Breeze. 
 
 And stcal'st thou thence with whisper weird and 
 
 strange, 
 To tell of slow decay and silent change ? 
 
 Or com'st thou from white villages and farms, 
 Fair seated upon many a sunny slope ; 
 
 Or nestling in the depth of woodland charms, 
 And breathing all of harvest and rich hope, 
 
 'Mid waving wheat-fields where the bearded grain 
 
 Makes glad the heart of the expectant swain ? 
 
 Ah, whencesoe'er thou comest, breeze most blest, 
 A dear and welcome visitant art thou ! 
 
 Pour thy soft balm into my aching breast, 
 
 Fan my flush'd cheek and cool my fever'd brow, 
 
 And bid this foolish heart's wild throbbing cease, 
 
 And lull my troubled being into peace. 
 
 I have been weary all this summer day, 
 
 And faint with toil and sad with many things,
 
 To the Evening Breeze. 143 
 
 But now I feel thee on my temples play, 
 
 And, like the flutter of an Angel's wings, 
 I hear thy gentle breath amid the flowers, 
 And leaves and mosses of these garden-bowers. 
 
 And straightway all my weariness is gone, 
 And pensive pleasure takes the place of pain. 
 
 Soft breeze, thou bear'st me Nature's benison : 
 Ah linger with me, leave me not again ! 
 
 Breathe ever round me as thou breathest now, 
 
 And lay thy rosy fingers on my brow. 
 
 Companion me through the dim twilight-hours, 
 And to my sense, with ministration meet, 
 
 Bring songs of birds, and perfume of the flowers, 
 And babble of the brooks — all odours sweet 
 
 And sounds harmonious that in nature be, 
 
 Light winged Zephyr, bring them all to me.
 
 144 To the Evening Breeze. 
 
 Thou wilt not, wilt not linger, may'st not stay ; 
 
 Thou passest on with all thy treasures sweet ; 
 Then since thou fain must fade from earth away, 
 
 Ah take me with thee to thy far retreat ; 
 In thy soft arms enfold me, Breeze of Even, 
 And bear my spirit with thee into heaven.
 
 145 
 
 LABOUR. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 T* ABOUR— the faithful doing of the work 
 
 God hath assign'd us, and the doing it 
 With earnestness of purpose, for the good 
 Both of ourselves and of our fellow-men, 
 It is most worthy and most noble — fraught 
 With perfect joy, and all-sufficing peace 
 Of mind and heart. But doing of the work 
 Which man hath set before us, with command- 
 " Do this, that I thereby may roll in wealth, 
 " And feed upon the fatness of the land, 
 " And clothe myself in rich array, and fare 
 " Deliciously, and gain great influence 
 " And mastery and dominion in the world ; — 
 " Do this — and, in the doing of it, starve, 
 
 u
 
 146 Labour. 
 
 " And lose the form and soul of Man, and die, 
 " And be trod down into the common clay, 
 " And rot into oblivion, root and branch:" — 
 This is more vile and more to be abhorr'd, 
 More fraught with misery and that death of soul 
 Which is the greatest of all evils, man 
 Hath power to inflict upon his fellow-man ; — 
 More vile is this, and more to be abhorr'd, 
 Than any tyranny the world has seen 
 Since the beginning : tyranny more vile 
 Than this, we trust through all the future years, 
 God's Sun shall never gaze on as he rolls.
 
 147 
 
 THE EARTH-BOUND AND THE DEPARTED. 
 
 THE EARTH-BOUND. 
 
 QPIRITS of the Great Departed ! 
 Ye who dwell with the Eternal, 
 Far removed from mortal vision, 
 
 Past yon skies that bend above us ; 
 Can it be that in your memories 
 Any thoughts of earth may linger ? 
 Do ye think of us — the Earth-bound? 
 
 Can it be that still ye love us ? 
 
 We who were of old your comrades, 
 We who were your fellow-soldiers, 
 In the great and glorious battle 
 That ye waged in mortal life ;
 
 148 The Earth-Bound 
 
 Oh ! 'twould soothe us in our sorrow, 
 If we could but know for certain 
 That your radiant eyes behold us, 
 That they watch us in our strife. 
 
 THE DEPARTED. 
 
 "V7"ES, we love you, dearest brothers ; 
 
 Yes, we watch you, in your striving ; 
 We have trod the path before you, 
 
 And with you we sympathise. 
 If your faith were only stronger, 
 If your spirits' gaze were keener, 
 Ye would look through earth's dim vapours, 
 
 And behold our radiant eyes. 
 
 Often at our starry portals 
 
 Do we stand, and gazing earth-ward,
 
 and the Departed. 149 
 
 Look if any old familiar 
 
 Forms the upward pathway roam : 
 Yes, we love you, dearest brothers, 
 And with patient expectation, 
 We await in hope your coming-, 
 
 Wait to give you welcome home !
 
 150 
 
 A RECOLLECTION. 
 
 SEE no more thy radiant smile, 
 No more I hear thy gentle voice, 
 Which once my heing could rejoice, 
 And all my thoughts of grief beguile. 
 I call, but there is answer none ; 
 I whisper, but thou dost not speak ; 
 It is a phantom that I seek ; 
 Too well I feel that thou art gone. — 
 Yes, thou art gone — and I am left 
 In solitude, to mourn thee here, 
 And feel that I, of all things dear, 
 Of all things lovely, am bereft. 
 
 I bear thine image in my breast ; 
 
 Thy form is graven on my heart ; 
 
 Methinks that as on earth thou wert, 
 So art thou now — a radiant guest
 
 A Recollection. 151 
 
 Within the mansion of onr God, 
 Far, far beyond yon starry skies : 
 My thoughts on love's strong- pinions rise, 
 
 But cannot reach thy bright abode. 
 
 Methinks thy features cannot die, 
 For 'twas the Spirit which inspired 
 Thy looks with beauty, and which fired 
 
 With tender light thy dove-like eye ; 
 
 For thou wert as an angel fair, 
 I cannot think of thee as changed, 
 But that the same as when we ranged 
 
 Those paths which I was blest to share, 
 
 Thou floatest now in upper air, 
 
 An Angel here — an Angel there. 
 
 Yet I would deem that thou hast lost 
 One look which thou wast wont to wear, 
 For human life is full of care, 
 
 By ghastly shades of sorrow cross'd.
 
 152 A Recollection. 
 
 Yes, that is gone I there is no trace 
 
 Of sadness in thy looks of love, 
 
 But all the light is from above 
 That rests upon thy radiant face. 
 
 Through the long day I sit and muse 
 On all the joy thou brought'st to me ; 
 I sit apart, and think of thee, 
 
 From matin-prime to evening dews, 
 
 And far into the lonely night ; 
 
 And then when sleep hath seal'd mine eyes, 
 Thy form amid my dreams doth rise, 
 
 And fill the aching void with light. 
 
 I dream of what no more may be, 
 Of days that never more may dawn, 
 For thou abidest with the morn, 
 
 And that is far away from me. 
 
 And sometimes on my knees I pray 
 That if it be His Sovereign Will,
 
 A Recollection. 153 
 
 This heart's wild beating- may be still, 
 And this frail being fade away. 
 And when my heart is in the prayer 
 
 That God will give my soul release, 
 
 And take me to his bowers of peace, 
 It is that I may meet Thee there : 
 And then I feel that thou art gone 
 
 Away from me but for a time, 
 
 And that in yonder Eden-clime, 
 Our souls shall mingle into one. 
 
 I will not dwell amid the past, 
 
 No more in its dim chambers grope ; 
 
 It is enough that I may hope, 
 With glance into the future cast, 
 
 That somewhere on that unseen shore, 
 That bounds time's ocean drear and vast, 
 We two once more may meet at last, 
 
 May meet at last to part no more.
 
 154 
 
 THE TRUTH-SEEKER. 
 
 f I "'O him who, steadfast in his search for Truth, 
 
 Lives for that only, and accounts all else 
 Which woos his worship, when compared with that 
 As dross, mere dust, which lies upon his road 
 To the far goal for which his spirit pants 
 With thirst attainment can alone subdue ; 
 Who feels within him promptings of a power 
 That brooks of no delay, no moment's pause, 
 But ever spurs him on, and on, and on ; 
 Admits no respite, no surcease from toil, 
 But bids him search and search until he find, 
 And having found, to speak unto the world, 
 Careless of consequence, or how mankind 
 May greet the messenger, so they receive 
 The message ; willing to lay down his life,
 
 The Truth-seeker. 155 
 
 If that his death may prove that message true. 
 To such a soul, this path of human life 
 Can be no path of flowers ; this actual world 
 Can show no more the paradisal scene 
 Which young imagination pictured it, 
 But a most solemn section of God's scheme, 
 Peopled by stern realities, through which 
 The soul must battle if it hope for peace. 
 For him no lolling by Arcadian streams, 
 On sunny slopes, from out mellifluous reeds, 
 Evoking melody to charm the ears 
 Of youths and maidens shepherding their flocks, 
 Can evermore be possible. His goal 
 Is distant, and he may not pause to mark 
 The flowers by the wayside ; the interchange 
 Of light and shade amid the forest leaves, — 
 The birds among the boughs, the mossy stones, 
 The fern-clad slopes, the iris lights that float 
 About the dewy morn, the fairy forms 
 That dwell within the bubbles of the brooks,
 
 156 The Truth-seeker. 
 
 And all those myriad details of delight 
 That make up Nature's sum of loveliness ; 
 Howe'er his heart may yearn to woo their loves, 
 He may not stay to catalogue their charms, 
 Except so far as they may tend to aid 
 That mighty thought that labours in his breast — 
 The steadfast purpose that he holds in view : 
 These may be means with him, but not the end: 
 A passing glance perchance may cheer his path, 
 And aid him in the labour of his days, 
 But never must he fix his rest with these — 
 His eye is bent on the blue mountain peaks 
 That in immeasurable distance rise, 
 And hide within their rocky fastnesses 
 His shrine of hope — his goal of pilgrimage. — 
 His aim is mighty, and absorbs his powers 
 With tyrannous exaction, till he looks 
 On life as a great battle-field — a place 
 Probationary merely, where his work, 
 Must either be, to combat 'gainst the false
 
 The Truth-seeker. 157 
 
 With fiery zeal, until he plant his foot 
 Upon its neck, and pin it with his spear 
 Down to the clammy clay from whence it rose ; 
 Or else with patient labour to build up 
 The beautiful and good, until the earth 
 With Truth's fair structures be so peopled o'er, 
 That Error shall find left no room to rear 
 Temples to her false gods, for evermore. 
 
 The bearers of unpalatable Truths 
 
 Are never welcome, for the World abhors 
 
 The light, and clings to darkness ; on the head 
 
 Of him who brings glad tidings from afar, 
 
 Heaping its measure of ingratitude ; 
 
 The world would be amused, not taught ; it seeks 
 
 To make the earnest ministers of Truth 
 
 Its servants, not its teachers. It would fain 
 
 Ignore the godlike wheresoe'er it can, 
 
 And place a jester's cap and jingling bells 
 
 Upon the brow that bears the seal of heaven.
 
 158 The Truth-seeker. 
 
 The World would fain be solaced with a song 
 Of flashing fancy and of joyous thought, 
 A merry distich, or a pleasant lay, 
 Of woods and waters, fairy-land and flowers. 
 It bids the sad-soufd captives take their harps 
 From off the willows, where they hang at rest, 
 And sing the songs of Zion. Truly they 
 Will sing the songs of Zion, but the strain 
 Shall be far other than their hearers look'd for.
 
 159 
 
 BEESTON CASTLE. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 r p 1 HROUGHLY initiate children are we, 
 Of this wonderful Nineteenth Century; 
 We dwell in the very heart of the strife, 
 In that mighty City, o'ercanopied 
 With its wreath of blackness for leagues outspread, 
 Where so much of the wonder first found life ; — 
 That City, the throbs and the strong pulsations 
 Of whose iron potentates and magicians, 
 Are felt in great shocks through all the nations, 
 Moulding and changing all states and conditions — 
 Felt on the mighty Indian shore, 
 And on the far reaches of Labrador ; — 
 Felt 'neath the smiting Afric Sun, 
 And where Columbia's great waters run ; —
 
 1G0 Beeston Castle. 
 
 Felt in the far-off Southern Isles, 
 And where Asia's garden-wilderness smiles ; — 
 Felt where'er man hath upbuilt him a home, 
 From the Hottentot's hut to the Kaisar's dome. 
 
 In this City of world-felt workers dwell we, 
 In the heart of this nineteenth century ; 
 Here we live on from year to year, 
 Our lot is cast, and our work lies, here ; 
 Here we moil and here we toil, 
 Raking together the golden spoil, 
 Where the gushing springs of life upboil. 
 
 But we will breathe the air to-day, 
 
 In the heart of the country far away ; 
 
 We are weary with pacing to and fro 
 
 'Mid the crowded streets and the thoroughfares, 
 
 And the busy market-places and squares ; — 
 
 To the fields and the woodlands to-day we will go, 
 
 And renew our souls with the blessed balm
 
 Beeston Castle. 161 
 
 Of Nature's beauty and holy calm. 
 
 And where shall we find a spot more sweet, 
 
 And a place for such soul-service more meet, 
 
 Than that Cheshire hill on whose lofty brow 
 
 The ruin'd stronghold of long-ago — 
 
 Old Beeston Castle, hath still its seat ? 
 
 Old Beeston Castle, crumbling away 
 
 'Neath the silent touch of slow decay ; 
 
 Old Beeston Castle, grim and gray, 
 
 That shall be our bourne to-day : 
 
 Through the viewless portal arch'd overhead, 
 
 The dreamshade by dim tradition cast, 
 
 Right out of the Present into the Past, 
 
 With reverent footstep to-day will we tread : 
 
 To-day we will bend our Spirit's glance 
 
 Into the twilight of old romance ; 
 
 As one who, journeying 'mid the bloom 
 
 Of the Summer, beneath the Sun's warm smile, 
 
 May haply pause to repose for awhile, 
 
 In some mossy cavern's coolness and gloom. 
 
 Y
 
 162 Beeston Castle. 
 
 We are in the Train ; o'er the wide-spread plain 
 Of Cheshire, we are speeding amain ; 
 Past quaint quiet farmsteads, centuries old, 
 We rush along ; past golden fields, 
 And ancestral woodlands fold upon fold ; 
 On all that the bright warm country yields 
 We feast our eyes, and grow glad to behold 
 The sunny wealth that is spread abroad, 
 Ripening under the smile of God. 
 
 We near our goal — we behold afar 
 
 The ruin'd stronghold of feudal war, 
 
 Looking forth from its eyrie on high, 
 
 And standing out sharp 'gainst the clear white sky 
 
 How lonely, how lone, does that Castle seem 
 
 In the heart of this nineteenth century ! 
 
 So lonely, so lone, that it seemeth to be 
 
 The ghost of some old forgotten dream 
 
 Gone astray in this age of reality.
 
 Beeston Castle. 163 
 
 We draw more near, and into the clear 
 
 Sweet air of the summer, as we draw near, 
 
 The iron servant that trusty and strong, 
 
 W ith short quick pantings tugs us along, 
 
 Sends forth a warning sharp and shrill, 
 
 That is buffeted back from the high steep hill, 
 
 As though the old warrior, that, wasted and worn, 
 
 With time and with tempest, keeps watch on its brow, 
 
 Defied the bold summons, and hurl'd it in scorn 
 
 Back on the strange unaccountable foe, 
 
 That comes gliding so swift through the plain below. 
 
 These be strange guests that have come to thee, 
 
 Thou relic of hoar antiquity ! 
 
 These be new men that visit thee now, 
 
 To set their feet on thy mossy brow, 
 
 And gaze wistfully forth o'er the scene below : 
 
 These be not like thy guests of old, 
 
 The bearded warriors grim and bold, 
 
 And the stalwart bowmen tawny and tall,
 
 164 Beeston Castle. 
 
 That in olden time rain'd the death from thy wall ; 
 
 These be other men that now come to thee 
 
 From out of this nineteenth century, 
 
 And other arms do these visitants bear, 
 
 Of more subtle force than the sword and the spear ; 
 
 Arms that can bind or free mankind, 
 
 In battles, whose only field is the mind; 
 
 The men of old thou wilt no more find ; 
 
 For thy wonted guests thou wilt look in vain, 
 
 Looking forth ever across the plain ; 
 
 The feudal lord, with his boisterous train 
 
 Of vassals, shall visit thee never again. 
 
 Ay, old veteran, times have changed 
 Since the mailed Baron rode up to thy portal ; 
 (Change is the portion of all things mortal ;) 
 Times have changed since the forester ranged, 
 With his tough yew-bow, through the solitudes, 
 And the leafy depths, of the Delamere woods ; 
 Times have changed since the Ladye fair,
 
 Beeston Castle. 165 
 
 On her gaily-trapp'd palfrey, glided by, 
 
 Like a waft of light from the blessed sky, 
 
 Or a beautiful presence from upper air ; 
 
 Times have changed since the lover's lute 
 
 Flung through the moonlight its serenade, 
 
 To charm the soul of the bright-eyed maid : 
 
 We knosv not whether his ardent suit, 
 
 His life's upbearing hope, was gain'd, 
 
 And the goal of his panting heart attain'd; 
 
 But we know that her eyes have for ages been dim, 
 
 That for ages the mould hath lain cold over him, 
 
 That the chords of the lute have for ages been mute ; 
 
 That a mightier song, and a spirit more strong, 
 
 Now speedeth the labouring jEon along.
 
 166 
 
 A RAINY DAY. 
 
 HTTIE Rain hath fallen all the livelong day, 
 
 And now the solemn evening closeth round ; 
 Yet still the torrent, without stop or stay, 
 Heavily plasheth on the sodden ground ; 
 Ceaseless and changeless on the listening ear 
 Falleth the sound, monotonous and drear. 
 
 Not as those showers whereby the conscious earth 
 Is roused to gladness in the time of spring ; 
 Not as those showers that waken thoughts of mirth 
 To hear them on the green leaves pattering, 
 And see them glistening in the sunny ray ; 
 Not such hath been the deluge of this day. 
 
 One canopy of cold gray cloud hath veil'd 
 
 The face of heaven, one curtain dense and dun ;
 
 A Rainy Day. 167 
 
 Nor hath the utmost of his power avail'd 
 
 To ope one vista for the golden sun, 
 
 One narrow cleft through which he might look forth, 
 
 And shed one ray of comfort on the earth. 
 
 Such hath the day been, gloom enwrapp'd in gloom ; 
 Yet not unbless'd have pass'd the hours for me, 
 In the warm refuge of my cheerful room, 
 Surrounded by that best society 
 Which hath most power the heart with joy to move, 
 Books, pictures, and the frequent looks of love. 
 
 I have held converse with the Mighty Dead ; 
 I have held converse too with mine own heart ; 
 And I have glean 'd from every page I read 
 Lessons of wisdom, which shall not depart 
 Till they have left their blessing ; they will bless 
 If we entreat them in pure-heartedness.
 
 168 A Rainy Day. 
 
 Immortal minds have my companions been ; 
 And first in place and reverence name I him 
 Who sat above the world with soul serene, 
 And to whose gaze man's life, so vex'd and dim 
 To other eyes, stood out distinct and clear, 
 As stars show through a cloudless atmosphere. 
 
 His wonderful creations were around, 
 Eternal presences, in words enshrined; 
 Genius' most lofty works supremely crown'd, 
 The mightiest monuments of human mind; 
 Man and Man's heart, as though by magic spell 
 Reveal'd — Man's heart, that wondrous heaven and 
 hell. 
 
 Another too was with me, whose vast soul 
 
 Was Wisdom's cave, but from its walls there gleam'd 
 
 Depending icicles, for in sooth the whole 
 
 Was frostwork, cold, yet glorious ; there stream'd 
 
 No summer sunlight into that recess, 
 
 No warm emotion, no deep tenderness.
 
 A Rainy Day. 169 
 
 Yet still the words that from his lips did fall 
 Were molten gold, and all of priceless worth ; 
 'Twas he whom reverent Germany doth call 
 The chief of all the Thinkers of the earth ; 
 The courtly sage, whose well-lived life appears 
 The garner'd culture of his eighty years. 
 
 And with him there came one of royal mien, 
 Whose upward-cleaving spirit proud and high, 
 Not like that other's, stirless and serene, 
 Struggled like sunlight in a stormy sky ; 
 Within his eye there reign'd undying fire, 
 And on his lips dwelt one proud word, " Aspire ! " 
 
 Somewhat apart from these, as though he dream'd 
 Of other worlds, stood one whose brow was crown'd 
 With laurel ; sooth the saddest brow it seem'd 
 That ever by that fatal wreath was bound, 
 Whilst his lips trembled with a smile, as sad 
 And full of pain, as ever smile was glad. 
 
 z
 
 170 A Rainy Day. 
 
 And last of that high company came one, 
 Though not the greatest, yet more dearly loved 
 Than any ; he who from his mountain-throne 
 Hymn'd the high praise of Nature, and removed 
 From men, in presence of the earth and sky, 
 Glean'd the full harvest of a quiet eye. 
 
 He who hehind the sunset did hehold 
 
 A spiritual presence, and in earth and air 
 
 And trees and streams found meanings manifold, 
 
 Which he in lofty numbers did declare; 
 
 He who reveal'd the unknown wondrous springs 
 
 Of wisdom, that abide in common things. 
 
 And not alone with the immortal dead 
 Held I discourse ; — the minds of some who still 
 Erect and firm upon earth's bosom tread, 
 Battling for truth and warring against ill, 
 Were with me in my pleasant solitude, 
 Heaping my table with ambrosial food.
 
 A Rainy Day. 171 
 
 And for these beings did I breathe a prayer 
 Out of the love and reverence in my breast, 
 That God would bid his Angel long-time spare 
 These souls ere they be gather'd to their rest, 
 That so their words of wisdom and of worth 
 Long time may bless and beautify the earth. 
 
 His mind was with me who with Titan-force 
 
 Hath warr'd against all insincerity, 
 
 Heaping the thunder of his honest curse 
 
 On every shallow gaud and empty lie, 
 
 Wherein the world hath trusted through long years. 
 
 And got for guerdon blood and stripes and tears. 
 
 And he the wisest of the living wise, 
 The great calm soul that sitteth, all serene, 
 'Xeath the broad shadow of Columbia's skies, 
 Unmoved amid the ever-shifting scene ; 
 He who works on in quiet hour by hour, 
 Peopling great realms of mind with Thoughts of 
 Power.
 
 172 A Rainy Day. 
 
 And lie the laurel'd Singer, whose sweet words, 
 Sweet as the Southern breezes stored with balm, 
 And strong as sweet, stir all the secret chords 
 Of mind and heart ; inspire and sooth and charm 
 Even as they list : full words, wherein we see 
 The flower and quintessence of poesy. 
 
 Bright gleams of beauty grace my lowly wall, 
 That sweetest sunshine in my chamber make ; 
 Leaving my books, my well-pleas'd glances fall 
 On field and mountain, shaded pool and lake : 
 Fair scenes, that to my tranquil thought appear, 
 Both for their own, and friendship's sake, most dear. 
 
 Sweet Derwentwater, o'er whose glassy breast 
 
 So late and oft it hath been mine to glide, 
 
 What time the sunshine smote old Skiddaw's crest, 
 
 And all the wooded islands in a tide 
 
 Of golden light were bathed, whilst from the shore 
 
 Was heard the soften'd murmur of Lowdore.
 
 A Rainy Day. 173 
 
 Who joys not to behold the yellow corn 
 Ripening beneath the Sun's autumnal rays ; 
 The life-upholding wealth of Nature, born 
 Out of the bounty of the varied days ? — 
 Yea, I am glad at heart as I behold 
 Yon wide expanse of earth's unsullied gold ! 
 
 Mountainous distance next enchains mine eye ; — 
 
 Over the broad fair valley as I gaze 
 
 From this high world, — enamour'd memory 
 
 Brings back to me the long-departed days, 
 
 Until I almost seem to hear the breeze 
 
 Sough through the branches of those lofty trees. 
 
 Oh pure, white lilies ! — lovely Sisterhood ; 
 How fair ye float upon the crystal tide, 
 'Neath the deep umbrage of the brooding wood ! 
 In whose cool quiet glades calm joys abide — 
 Calm joys, calm thoughts, to suit a tranquil mood 
 3Iost pleased where noisy pleasures least intrude.
 
 174 A Rainy Day. 
 
 J I ail ! mighty Titan — chain'd upon thy rock ; 
 The Eagle's beak is sharp, his talons strong ; 
 But thou, unqucll'd by torture's deadliest shock, 
 Dost triumph over tyranny and wrong; 
 That which is godlike in thee baffling pain ; 
 All hail ! free soul, despite the galling chain. 
 
 It matters nothing that thy face is wrench'd 
 By direst torment — 'tis a transient throe ; — 
 It matters nothing that each nerve is clench'd 
 As in a spasm, thou wilt overthrow 
 Thine anguish ; it will pass, and thou wilt be 
 Thyself again — majestic, calm and free. 
 
 A mighty Statue ! — he who to my care 
 Consign'd it, dwells beneath Italian skies ; 
 But he is with me here, I with him there, 
 Albeit a breadth of ocean 'twixt us lies ; 
 Whate'er I think and feel he loves, and I 
 With all his thoughts have perfect sympathy.
 
 A Rainy Day. 1 75 
 
 Thus hath this day for me been rich and glad, 
 And swiftly, ah ! too swiftly hath it fled ; 
 Great hath the rapture been that I have had 
 Conversing thus with the Immortal Dead, 
 And with those living who shall never die, 
 Having achieved their Immortality. 
 
 So hath this day for me been fair and sweet, 
 
 And Nature's sunniest beauties have been mine, 
 
 By Art's high mediation ; most complete 
 
 Hath been my converse with these things divine ; 
 
 Into mine inmost heart have I received 
 
 Their blessing ; love the victory hath achieved. 
 
 Such is my record of a rainy day : — 
 
 A simple moral from the tale I glean, 
 
 That for true hearts, whate'er the world may say, 
 
 Delight dependeth not on outward scene : 
 
 True hearts may find the cloudiest day to be 
 
 More bless'd, than the most sunny we can see.
 
 176 
 
 WHAT DOTH IT ALL AVAIL? 
 
 r T^IIE days and years pass by, 
 
 And bear life with them : Time doth onward <ro 
 In its unceasing flow ; 
 With all its blaze of splendid pageantry, 
 Or blank folds of obscure monotony ; 
 We journey with it, and grow old, 
 And at the last 
 The final bell is toll'd, 
 And life's long pilgrimage is pass'd, 
 
 And time is done ; 
 And we no more behold the fair 
 Day, and the splendour of the sun, 
 And breathe no more the blessing of the air : 
 Our race is run —
 
 What doth it all avail? 177 
 
 But do we end where we begun ? 
 And is there nothing won ? — 
 
 The Traveller who at morn doth start 
 On a long pilgrimage, with jocund heart, 
 Ere night close round him, and he gain 
 His inn of rest, shall see 
 Many diversities of hill and plain ; 
 His vision shall be fed with constant change, 
 And infinite variety 
 Of prospect rich and strange, 
 Woodland and lake, and fir-clad mountain-range, 
 And Alpine-summits in their crowned pride, 
 And flowers by the wayside, 
 And many a wondrous sight, 
 In rock-bound chasm and on upland height — 
 Succession ever sweet and new 
 Of that rare beauty, wherein God 
 Hath, of his grace, apparell'd this abode 
 Of man, too oft less thankful than the clod, 
 
 A A
 
 178 What doth it all avail? 
 
 Which yieldeth meet return for rain and dew. 
 
 And even so 
 Life's pilgrim, whosoe'er he be, 
 And on whatever road he go, 
 In his life-pilgrimage may see 
 Innumerable things 
 Of wonder, and of beauty, and of love, 
 To lift his thought to fields of life above, 
 And guide and teach him with their ministerings : 
 Using his proper eyes, 
 He may grow wise, 
 And glean grand lessons from the earth and skies, 
 Yea, drink in wisdom from a thousand springs; 
 Till, at the last, he shall possess enshrined, 
 An image of the world within his mind. 
 
 'Tis an old tale — 
 Much seen, much known, and large experience had 
 Of grave and gay, of joyous and of sad,
 
 What doth it all avail ? 179 
 
 Of good and bad ; 
 What doth it all avail ? 
 The traveller who hath gain'd 
 His inn of rest, and sunk into the arms 
 Of welcome slumber, (blessed sleep ordain'd 
 To be the bearer of all soothing balms,) 
 Shall haply see, 
 By the mysterious ministry, 
 And supernatural agency, of dream, 
 Meadow and mountain, valley, wood, and stream, 
 Pass once again before his raptured eye, 
 With all their weird and wondrous pageantry ; 
 Only the aspect of the whole shall wear 
 A richer mantle of diviner light, 
 And all that he beholds shall seem more fair 
 Than ever it appear'd to waking sight : 
 The sunshine shall be brighter, softer too ; 
 A richer halo rest on every scene, 
 The fields and trees assume a fresher green, 
 And the blue sky be more supremely blue ;
 
 180 What doth it all avail? 
 
 Thus shall the pilgrim — now the dreamer — live 
 The daylight's long experience o'er again, 
 Only without the travail and the pain, 
 And with the heighten'd joy which dreams can give. 
 
 And even so 
 Life's pilgrim who hath gain'd his inn of rest, 
 And laid an aching heart and burning brow 
 To slumber on his loving mother's breast, 
 Shall have his midnight sunn'd with glorious dreams 
 Of all good things made perfect — lofty aims 
 Merged in completion ; Earth's devout essay 
 Made Heaven's fulfilment, and all earthly shames 
 Borne down, and cancell'd, by the piercing beams 
 Of Truth's unclouded day. 
 
 Tis the old tale ; 
 Oh very very old, 
 And one that hath been often told ; 
 Are dreams realities ? are they endued
 
 What doth it all avail? 181 
 
 With any power for substantial good ? 
 What doth it all avail ? 
 Thus much doth it avail — 
 (Tis an old tale, 
 But none the worse for being old, 
 Nor of less force for having oft been told.) 
 That of life's pilgrims, he 
 Who hath glean'd most on earth 
 Of wisdom and of worth, 
 Who hath dealt best with time, 
 Shall be best dealt with by eternity, 
 
 And only he 
 Shall reap full harvests in " God's Eden-clime."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 SONNETS.
 
 185 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS. 
 
 SELF-CULTURE. 
 
 I. 
 r II "'HOU see'st this world Is wholly gone astray, 
 
 Unmindful of the promise of its youth ; 
 
 Thou see'st how widely men have err'd from Truth, 
 
 And in pursuit of error have grown gray : — 
 
 Thou see'st all this with grief no tongue can say, 
 
 And in thy soul thou feel'st an urgent call 
 
 To play an earnest part, however small, 
 
 Tow'rd the achieving of Truth's perfect sway. 
 
 But looking round about thee every way, 
 
 Thou see'st huge barriers in each avenue, 
 
 "Which one man's strength can never struggle thro'; 
 
 Then doth thy soul cry out, " How weak am I, 
 
 " How nothing-worth is all that I can do ! 
 
 " Sure it must be an angel from on high, 
 
 " And he alone, shall shape this world anew ! " 
 
 B B
 
 18G 
 
 II. 
 
 P) ETHINK thee, that if each one set to work 
 On his own soul, and resolutely there 
 Wrought on to make that temple pure and fair, 
 And to cast out the evil things that lurk 
 In its deep chambers and pollute the air ; 
 Bethink thee, that if each were thus intent 
 To shape his life as nobly as he can, 
 And to perfect the individual man 
 Up to its possible accomplishment ; 
 Bethink thee, how this world so torn and rent 
 Would then be, as by miracle, made whole, 
 And the free-pulsing blood of health be sent 
 Through all the veins of the universal Soul, 
 And our humanity attain the Utopian goal.
 
 187 
 
 III. 
 
 TTTORK — 'tis the grand Evangel of this Time, 
 The bright Archangel that doth hold the key 
 To the great future's looming mystery, 
 Its issues glorious, its rewards sublime. 
 Bethink thee well of this high Truth, and then 
 Go thou and set to work upon thyself, 
 And leave pursuit of fame or sordid pelf, 
 As it may like them, to thy fellow-men ; 
 Walk thou with soul self-centred 'mid the strife, 
 And show to all who in thy circle move, 
 The grand ensample of a noble life 
 Lived to high purpose in the light of love. 
 Tread thou this path by all great spirits trod, 
 Perfect thyself, and leave the rest to God.
 
 188 
 
 IV. 
 
 T)EHFECT thyself— that is thy mission here ; 
 
 In stern self-culture be thy being spent, 
 In earnest labour, and development 
 Of thy soul's fitness for a higher sphere ; 
 Grow greater, wider, wiser, year by year, 
 Wiser and wider both in heart and brain, 
 Subvert to noble uses grief and pain, 
 And banish doubt, despondency and fear. 
 Live thou for Truth, take her to be thy guide, 
 Thy soul's Ideal, and thy spirit's Bride, 
 Thy goal of hope, thy heart's best loved, most dear : 
 So shape each hour, that thou may'st ever say, 
 " I am a little further on rny way, 
 " A little nearer her, than I was yesterday."
 
 189 
 
 A QUESTION. 
 
 A Y, we live on, good friend, from day to day, 
 But do we grow in wisdom as we live ? 
 Do we take all this bounteous earth can give, 
 And store the treasures in our minds away ? 
 Or do we, as the thriftless prodigal, 
 Let the ripe fruitage to the earth down fall, 
 And poor in heart and soul grow old and gray ? 
 Ah, 'tis a solemn thought ! to think that life, 
 By the wise will of an omniscient Heaven, 
 For ends far other than a May-day show, 
 To these strange units me and thee is given ; 
 That 'tis a battle-field of fiercest strife 
 And strenuous labour, with stern teachings rife, 
 To fit us for the land to which we go.
 
 190 
 
 MEADOW-PATHS, 
 
 nP^HE Meadow-Paths of England, sweet are 
 
 they— 
 Wending in devious course 'neath hedge-rows green, 
 And leading into many a woodland scene, 
 And o'er broad uplands with bright field-flowers 
 
 Or richly laden with the harvest fair, 
 Or storing all the amorous evening-air 
 With luscious odours of the new-mown hay. — 
 The Meadow-paths of England — blest are we, 
 Whose native feet have vagrant liberty 
 In their sweet labyrinths at will to stray, 
 Through all the seasons of the summer day, 
 Eve, morn, and noon, and golden after-noon ; 
 Returning homeward 'neath a crescent moon, 
 What time the shrouded lands grow dim and gray.
 
 191 
 
 WINDS AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 S^i MIDNIGHT Winds that, round my dwel- 
 ling howl ! 
 Of mystic meaning is your sound to me ; 
 O muffled Winds of Midnight ! can it be 
 That with the sadness of a sorrowing soul, 
 Ye, with your voice of wail, have sympathy ? 
 O Winds ! ye steal upon the midnight calm, 
 And startle silence with your solemn psalm ; 
 On list'ning ears advancing and retreating, 
 Rising in gradual swell and softly dying, 
 And in long cadence of continuous sighing, 
 Your wail of lamentation oft repeating. 
 O dolorous Winds, with woe ye sympathize ! 
 O mourners, well ye suit the clouded skies ! 
 Ye suit the clouded soul that 'neath them lies.
 
 192 
 
 TO DUTY. 
 
 nr^HOU awful Monitress ! — with brow serene, 
 
 Who look'stdown calm with unimpassion'd eye 
 Upon this fitful transitory scene, 
 Where we, poor mortals, strive and weep and die ; 
 Duty, thou fix'd unalterable Law, 
 Although so cold and stately is thy mien, 
 Thou hast a heart for human sorrow ; high 
 And holy consolation we may draw 
 From thy pure bosom ; living in thy light, 
 And walking in thy paths, we need not fear : 
 No clouds obscure thy world, there all is bright, 
 There all is possible, distinct, and clear; 
 Therefore right on our little barks we steer, 
 Firm in our strength of soul, and love of truth 
 and right.
 
 193 
 
 FAITH 'MID DOUBT. 
 
 A S one who travelling beneath the pall 
 Of blackest night across a barren moor, 
 Unknowing of his path, feels yet secure 
 That if he journey on, and strive through all 
 The dangers round him, morning will be sure 
 To break upon him beautiful and pure ; 
 So that he shall rejoice upon his way, 
 And plant his footsteps firm, nor fear to fall 
 Into the pits and snares which the bright day 
 Reveals to view, and takes their dread away : — 
 So feels the Soul amid her present night, 
 So looks she forward with unshaken eye, 
 And sees through Hope the morningbreakingbright, 
 And fixes her firm faith in God on high.. 
 
 c c
 
 194 
 
 THE DOUBTER. 
 
 T HAVE great faith in thee, though withering 
 
 Doubt 
 Seem for a season to repress the bloom 
 Of spiritual life, steal its perfume, 
 And almost eat its very being out ; — 
 Still I have faith in thee, many have trod 
 The path before thee, and have gain'd the goal. 
 Thou hast a heart and mind, thou hast a Soul 
 High and capacious ; thou hast generous youth 
 And health and energy ; thou hast hope in God, 
 In Nature and in Man, and all these things 
 Shall teach thy spirit with their minist' rings, 
 Shall close around thee like an Angel's wings, 
 And guide thee as a child in leading strings, 
 Up the steep mountain to the seat of Truth.
 
 195 
 
 ENFRANCHISEMENT. 
 
 W ILL not wrap around me for a robe 
 This worn-out mantle — custom ; I would be 
 That which my soul proclaims I should be— free 
 To act upon conviction ; I would probe 
 Even to the very centx*e of its globe, 
 The deepest depths of thought, and seek for truth 
 With all the force and compass of my mind; 
 Why should I sink into the lethargy 
 Of age, while I have energy and youth ? 
 And if I be so favour' d as to find 
 The priceless gem, or to believe indeed 
 That I have found it, thereon will I base 
 My trust, and " look the whole world in the face," 
 Nor heed the thunders of dogmatic creed.
 
 196 
 
 ,T0 SLEEP. 
 
 f I ''IIOU who hast fled mine aching- eyes of late, 
 Kind nurse, sweet ministress, consoling' sleep, 
 I woo thee with a prayer importunate, 
 Thy moonlit station by my couch to keep ; 
 I do not ask thee for delightful dreams, 
 For pleasant fancies, or those pageants brave 
 That fill the night with paradisal gleams, — 
 Thee unattended, thee alone, I crave : 
 Methinks thou answerest such prayer of mine 
 After this fashion, " Mortal, I can come 
 " To no such vex'd and turbid brain as thine, 
 " With faith and peace alone I make my home, 
 " And they alone partake my perfect rest 
 " Who lay their heads on Virtue's spotless breast."
 
 19; 
 
 TO LOUIS KOSSUTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 r TT , HE truth must triumph, be thou therefore bold 
 And resolute, though fortune seem to frown, 
 Thy cause is only for the time cast down, 
 And all that it hath lost, a thousand-fold 
 Shall be restored in ages yet to come : 
 The fire of freedom hath not yet grown cold, 
 The awful voice of justice is not dumb ; 
 I hear glad voices floating o'er Time's sea ; 
 That land in whose behoof thou hast enroll'd 
 Thy name among the martyrs, yet shall be 
 Partaker of the blessing, great and free ; 
 The death-knell of oppression shall be toll'd 
 By the strong hand of outraged liberty, 
 And all the honest praise be given to thee.
 
 198 
 
 II. 
 
 1T\ IGHT royal spirit, we have done our best 
 
 To greet thee fitly, could we have done more 
 It had been blythely done, for ne'er before 
 Hath this dark-looming city of the west 
 Been visited from any foreign shore 
 By such a welcome, so revered, a guest ; 
 Each true man's heart was bounding in his breast 
 With honest rapture, as thy car roll'd by, 
 The soul's sincere emotion was express'd 
 By tears, warm tears, that stood in many an eye ; 
 Ah I from the heart's full chambers came that cry 
 Of gazing thousands, who felt glad and blest 
 To circle thee, even in adversity, 
 Thou great High Priest of sacred Liberty.
 
 199 
 
 TO 
 
 T TOW many maidens do we daily see 
 
 Flitting before us in the dizzy dance 
 Of human life, that are not worth one glance 
 Of those soul-beaming eyes now bent on me ; 
 O radiant maiden ! 1 perceive in thee 
 All those rare virtues and adornments blent, 
 That make our mortal nature excellent, 
 That raise and dignify humanity ; 
 For thou hast beauty, both of outward form, 
 And of the soul, which is diviner far ; 
 A mind self-centred, and at peace ; a heart 
 Right warm and womanly to its inmost part ; 
 And thou dost shine above us like a star 
 That looketh down serenely on a storm.
 
 200 
 
 TO 
 
 A LLEGRO — 'tis the fitting name for thee, 
 Light-hearted yet true-hearted maiden ! thou 
 Who wear'st so well upon thy broad bright brow 
 The seal of innocent mirth, and sprightlicst glee. 
 Oh, 'tis thy very warmth and truth of heart, 
 The generous promptings of thy nature, free 
 From aught of evil, these it is impart 
 To every act, and look, and tone of thine, 
 The witching grace of breeze-like liberty 
 Whose sparkling radiance is not less divine 
 Than the more pensive beauty we may see. 
 Ah, wheresoe'er thy lot be cast, may trace 
 Of sorrow still be banish'd from the place, 
 Smiles only should be seen on that sweet face.
 
 201 
 
 SOLEMN THOUGHTS. 
 
 r T^HEY steal upon us — how and whence they 
 
 come 
 We know not — Solemn thoughts, amid the crowd 
 Of other thoughts ; each like a gold-fringed cloud, 
 Slow-sailing o'er the else unvaried dome 
 Of the blue summer-heaven ; they soothe and bless 
 Like wells of water in the wilderness ; 
 They purify the inward eye, they raise 
 Our earth-bound spirits to a loftier height, 
 O'er the low narrow circle of our days, 
 And fill the heart with peace, the mind with might ; 
 They deal us holiest joy in amplest dole, 
 From withering doubt and fear they make us free : 
 Oh, whencesoe'er they come, whate'er they be, 
 They are like heaven-dew to the fainting soul. 
 
 D D
 
 •202 
 
 A QUIET PLEASURE. 
 
 JT^ORTH to the green fields, after the great bustle 
 
 And weary turmoil in the town all day ; 
 To sit among the leaves and hear them rustle, 
 Lovingly to the balmy evening gale, 
 Whispering in undertone its tender tale ; 
 To watch the streamlet o'er its pebbles play, 
 And list its clear voice as it softly singeth 
 Sweet songs, which from its naiad-guarded fountains 
 In the recesses of the lonely mountains, 
 Amid fair pastoral valleys far away, 
 And haunts of sylvan solitude, it bringeth. — 
 O quiet joy, that all our being thrills ; 
 O blessed peace, that the whole spirit fills ; 
 O charm to soothe away a thousand ills.
 
 203 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 A H where does she, the sacred Vestal, dwell ? 
 Upon what cloud-based, heaven-encircled 
 height, 
 Upon what mountain summit, lumined bright 
 With hallow'd radiance inconceivable, 
 Hath she her lofty seat ? Ah might mine eye 
 Have but one transient momentary glance, 
 Divine unknown, of her fair countenance 
 Then would I gladly lay me down and die ! 
 Oh needless longing ! — Truth hath its abode 
 In all things, everywhere; and wheresoe'er 
 The omnipresent God is, Truth is there 
 As well ; for God is Truth, and Truth is God : 
 But only -they whose hearts and minds are pure, 
 May see her beauty and her peace secure.
 
 204 
 
 BEAUTY IN ALL SEASONS. 
 
 T? ACH season has its charms ; this visible earth, 
 
 This favour'd home of ours, is ever fair 
 And beauteous, whatsoever garb it wear; 
 Whether the tender Spring, with a new birth 
 Of genial warmth, fulfil the soften'd air ; 
 Or Summer call the flowers' perfections forth, 
 And rain into the depths of the old woods 
 Her gorgeous sunshine, or with thick-set leaves 
 Make closer coverts of those solitudes ; 
 Or buxom Autumn, with her rich brown sheaves 
 And mellow fruitage, strew the happy lands ; 
 Or hoary Winter from his wrinkled hands 
 Shake down the snow, and send the wind that 
 
 grieves 
 In a strange language no man understands.
 
 205 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 A Y, there is store of beauty to be found, 
 
 When rough old Winter, with his willing train 
 Of storms and snow-clouds, sweeps o'er hill and plain , 
 And flings the close links of a despot's chain 
 O'er everything that breathes of life around ; 
 \\ hen clear and cutting 1 comes the frost-charged 
 
 breeze, 
 And rings, beneath the tread, the harden'd ground, 
 Rings sharp and clear with a metallic sound ; 
 \Vhen graceful snow-wreaths deck the bare black 
 
 trees, 
 And 'mid lone rocks and solitudes profound, 
 Frost, the magician, works rare traceries. 
 Yes, equal Beauty may in Winter be 
 As dwells in any season we can see; 
 Beauty of diverse kind, but equal in degree.
 
 206 
 
 THE RETURN OF SPRING. 
 
 r I iHE earth revives ; old Winter, in his shroud 
 Of snow, bedeck'd with tears of frozen rain, 
 Hath been borne from us by his sullen train 
 Of cold ungenial mist, and storm-charged cloud, 
 And wailing winds lamenting long and loud. 
 The tender Spring is with us once again, 
 And 'neath her virgin-footstep hill and "plain 
 Give forth their liveliest growth of cheerful green, 
 While in the woodland nooks fair infant-flowers are 
 
 seen. 
 Ah, may this influence which now permeates through 
 The yielding earth, reach also to the heart I 
 May that experience renovation too ! 
 That so upon life's journey we may start 
 Afresh, with hopes revived and courage new.
 
 207 
 
 THE DREAMER. 
 
 T T T H AT care I for the world ? they come and go, 
 These crowds, and leave me as they found 
 me, calm ; 
 Their hopes and their ambitions have no charm 
 To lure me forth to join their onward flow ; 
 I have a world whereof they nothing know, 
 And tranquil musings which do yield me balm 
 In every sorrow ; I can shut mine eyes 
 And instantly upon my soul arise 
 Bright visions, gorgeous dreams, realities 
 Transcending theirs — mine is tbe happier lot, 
 On sure foundations are my raptures built, 
 My wealth is all pure gold, their's outside gilt : 
 Thou dost demur, believe it if thou wilt, 
 And if thou wilt not, why, believe it not.
 
 By the same Author, 
 
 A LAY OF HERO WORSHIP, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
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