Songs of Study 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 SONGS OF STUDY
 
 SONGS OF STUDY 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM WILKINS 
 
 B.A. AND SCHOLAR, TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN 
 
 " Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for a hermitage " 
 
 Lovelace 
 
 ' Yet, at the worst of the worst, books and a chamber remain " 
 
 Clough 
 
 LONDON 
 C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 i88i
 
 ' ' But let your fair eyes and gentle ivishes go with me to my 
 trial." — As You Like It. 
 
 {The rights of translation and of reprodtiction are reserved^
 
 PR 
 
 TO 
 
 MY BROTHER CHARLIE, 
 
 TO 
 ALL WHO LOVED HIM, 
 
 TO 
 THE UNIVERSITY HE LOVED. 
 
 837681
 
 Some of the poems in this volume have already appeared in 
 serials, chiefly in Kottahos, a miscellany of Greek, Latin, and 
 English verses, published every term in Dublin University. " Love 
 Letter" and "In the Engine Shed" vi'ere included in a collection 
 of poetry for recitation, edited in 1878 by Mr. John A. Jennings.
 
 As once I set my songs before his face 
 I set his name to-day before my songs ; 
 
 Because the sunshine of our study-place 
 
 Came from his comradeship, which still prolongs 
 
 Its blessed sense beyond the graveyard murk, 
 
 And ever soothes me at my lonely work. 
 
 For I expect all day his entering, 
 
 With steady eyes of hope, and merry smile 
 
 Fresh as the heather perfume, or the spring 
 Of mountain streams, and potent to beguile 
 
 Dark thought, and prompt resolve to choose the best. 
 
 To follow and find and hold the worthiest : 
 
 Mercy, and justice, and the thrice-white fire 
 Of scorn for slave and tyrant, — all the bright 
 
 Pure solaces of life, and high desire 
 
 Above all things in heaven and earth for light ; 
 
 Such gods were his. Their temples yet remain, 
 
 Sacred for me, in every verdured lane
 
 ( viii ) 
 
 Between the mountain summits and the sea, 
 Along our broad branch-waving country-side 
 
 Wherever his free feet have gone with me 
 In misty Irish sunshine far and wide, 
 
 Rejoicing in our youth with courage high, 
 
 And in the hills and cloudy-splendid sky. 
 
 In life and death I hold my brother dear. 
 And bravely faithful to himself and me. 
 
 His deep love being all my atmosphere 
 Till we lock hands in some new ecstasy ; 
 
 Until new earth and heaven on me unfold 
 
 And our new comradeship transcend the old.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 HEARTBEATS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Leaf of Shamrock ... ... ... ... 3 
 
 T. C. D. ... ... ... ... ... 13 
 
 Why ... ... ... ... ... ... 16 
 
 Palingenesis ... ... ... ... 18 
 
 Dublin Collegians ... ... ... ... 21 
 
 Study on the River Dodder, near Dublin ... 24 
 
 Freshets ... ... ... ... ... 28 
 
 Grattan Bridge, Dublin ... ... ... 30 
 
 Feuillemorte ... ... ... ... ... 35 
 
 Reveillon ... ... ... ... .., 36 
 
 Requiescat ... ... ... ... ... 38 
 
 "He giveth His Beloved Sleep" ... ... 40 
 
 A Playbill ... ... ... ... ... 42 
 
 Dei Gratia ... ... ... ... ... 43 
 
 Pastoral .. ... ... ... ... 45 
 
 Good Night... ... ... ... ... 47
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 LANDSCAPES. 
 
 A March Whistle ... ... ... ... 5' 
 
 Magazine Fort, Phcenix Park, Dublin ... 55 
 
 Night Air ... .. ... ... ..■ 5^ 
 
 August, 1878 ... ... ... ... 57 
 
 Credo ... ... ... ... ... ... 5^ 
 
 LuDi... ... ... ... ... ... 59 
 
 The Impassible ... ... ... ... ... 61 
 
 Actaeon ... ... ... ... ■■• 63 
 
 Ail Mavrish ... ... ... ... ... 81 
 
 LOVERS. 
 
 To the Ideal ... ... ... ... loi 
 
 Easter Even ... ... ... ... 102 
 
 A Reminiscence ... ... .. ... 106 
 
 A Rejoinder (Rcxasi) ... ... ... ... 107 
 
 Sketch ... ... ... ... ... 108 
 
 Godsend ... ... .. ... ... no 
 
 A May Carol ... ... ... ... 112 
 
 Date Lilia ... ... ... ... ... 114 
 
 Recordemur ... ... ... ... ... 115 
 
 Gilliflower ... ... ... ... ... 119
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Proxima — Ultima ... .. ... .. 121 
 
 A Storm Song ... ... ... ■•■ 122 
 
 A True Lover's Ditty ... ... ... ... 123 
 
 Madonna ... ... ... ... ... 124 
 
 Love Letter ... ... ... ... . . 126 
 
 Deaq Leaves ... .. ... ... 132 
 
 Disillusion ... ... ... ... ... 133 
 
 Dolls ... ... ... ... ... 135 
 
 Year's End ... ... ... ... ... 138 
 
 The Last Trysting ... ... ... ... 141 
 
 Leave-taking ... ... ... ... ... 143 
 
 A Late Passer ... ... ... ... 146 
 
 Piano-Easel ... ... ... ... ... 14S 
 
 Mavourneen ... ... ... ... 149 
 
 Song ... ... ... ... ... ... 152 
 
 Not as You like it ... ... ... ... 153 
 
 A Romance reopened ... ... ... ... 157 
 
 Under the Gilding ... ... ... ... 161 
 
 Her Window ... ... ... ... ... 163 
 
 Leuconoe ... ... ... ... ... 167 
 
 A Winter Night ... ... ... ... 171 
 
 A Frostfern ... ... ... . . 174 
 
 Gladiatrix ... ... ... ... ... 175 
 
 Lady Blanche's Australian ... ... 177
 
 Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 VIGNETTES. 
 
 )'AGK 
 
 In the Engine Shed ... ... ... 185 
 
 Miranda ... ... ... ... ... 191 
 
 Vespers ... ... ... ... ... ■ 192 
 
 Picnic ... ... ... ... ... ... 198 
 
 White Roses ... ... ... ... 200 
 
 PiA ... ... ... ... ... ... 202 
 
 The Dream of Pia ... ... ... ... 206 
 
 Emigrant ... ... ... ... ... 210 
 
 To this Book ... ... ... ... 212 
 
 Envoi ... ... ... ... ... ... 216
 
 ERRATUM. 
 Page 38, line 4 of quotation, for " iie " read " me.'
 
 xii CONTENTS. 
 
 VIGNETTES. 
 
 • ■ PAGE 
 
 In the Engine Shed ... ... ... - 185 
 
 Miranda ... ... ... ... ... 191 
 
 Vespers ... ... ... ... ... 192 
 
 Picnic ... ... ... ... ... ... 198 
 
 White Roses ... ... ... ... 200 
 
 PiA ... ... ... ... ... ... 202 
 
 Thk T^bcaaj r>c Pta '
 
 HEARTBEATS. 
 
 " Love is fellow-service." 
 
 Clough. 
 
 "Arthur, the shapely, the tranquil, the stren^th-and-contentment dif- 
 fusing." — Clo lgh. 
 
 " A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another."
 
 A LEAF OF SHAMROCK. 
 
 While my brother and I lived happily 
 In the worm-eaten storeys of Trinity, 
 I dreamed a dream as the morning dawned 
 On his innocent rest in the room beyond. 
 
 I dreamed of the room where late and early 
 We loved and studied, myself and Charlie, 
 The room that looked to the summer dawns 
 Over such greenness of boughs and lawns. 
 
 And under our wall that was built of books 
 The air was lit with a lady's looks, 
 Filling the place of our love and study 
 With melodied sense of maiden beauty. 
 
 A Muse-like being, she held herself 
 As tall as I by the mantel-shelf, 
 While Charlie sat in a place apart, 
 Holding us both in his inmost heart.
 
 4 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And over the depths of his brow and beard 
 The throat and breasts of a nymph appeared 
 Among carven primrose leaves, — a bust 
 Hewn by a dear hand now in dust. 
 
 Perchance there were more in our company, 
 But my dream was blessed to count these three. 
 — Do a youth and a maid suffice to each other ? 
 — Ah ! you know not the spirit of Charlie's brother. 
 
 And you know not the cheek of roseate pearl 
 Or the ivory soul of that Irish girl, 
 And the sanctuaries of snow-pure thought 
 In three student bosoms your soul knows not. 
 
 And you know not the dreams that were dreamed up 
 Where the gable is grey in middle air, [there, 
 
 And you know not the wafts of unworldly ether 
 That Charlie and I have breathed together. — 
 
 — We talked in my dream, not a little moved, 
 Of Goldsmith, whose shy youth dwelt unloved 
 In our great rough College, and braved in vain 
 The time's harsh tempest of scorn and pain. 
 
 Then that maiden answered in earnest wise. 
 With her truthful soul in her eloquent eyes, 
 Of the worker's reward in his own pure will, 
 And the verdure of Erin made greener still
 
 A LEAF OF SHAMROCK. 5 
 
 By his fame — in the minds of the few that count, 
 Who leaven the dull world's gross amount, 
 Who will lift up their faces in ages unscanned — 
 Saying, 'Erin, 'twas Goldsmith's, Foley's land !' — 
 
 " And though Goldsmith's ashes but few tears greet, 
 Lying trodden by London's uncaring feet ; 
 Yet*his image is fair in Foley's bronze. 
 And here for a glory to Erin's sons. 
 
 " And his perfect work has true Art's high strength 
 To pass like a light through the ages' length, 
 To shine in its place ever pure and bright, 
 The rival's despair, the disciple's delight. 
 
 " Therefore heed not cries of the chaffering mart. 
 But work thy work in the halls of Art ; 
 With the heart's true love and the brain's true thought 
 Be the rock well hewn and the ore well wrought. 
 
 " Work truly thy work, whate'er it be. 
 
 For Erin and immortality. 
 
 And thy star, according to thy desert, 
 
 Shall shine in the cloudless heaven of Art." — 
 
 So she spoke in her Celtic eagerness, 
 With musical voice like a pure caress, 
 Enhancing the splendour of Goldsmith's doom. 
 Till I dared to dream it might light my tomb.
 
 6 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And Charlie smiled from his window-seat, 
 For our souls took joy when our eyes would meet, 
 And nothing seemed right till I talked it over 
 With my brother Charlie, my perfect lover. 
 
 Then was the course of my dreaming broken, 
 And Day bustled blithe in the world once more ; 
 But that maiden's look and the words she had spoken 
 Long time in the heart of my heart I bore. 
 
 So the weeks went on, till my sleeping brain 
 Imaged in absence that room again, 
 AVith its busts and books, and its fresh air streaming 
 From Charlie's sleep to my place of dreaming : 
 
 The room where we met after every revel, 
 Where we laughed over chances of sport and travel ; 
 The room we came back to from lonely lakes 
 In the brown wild hills, and from silver breaks 
 
 Of bright wild river and clear bleak shore, 
 And woodland glad of the wind's free roar ; 
 The room that looked over such moonlit spaces, 
 The room never emptied of friendly faces ; 
 
 The room that was bowered and based on love, 
 A temple to Tennyson, Browning, Clough ; 
 The room that was rife with Shelley's verse. 
 And a chapel for Swinburne-reverencers ;
 
 A LEAF OF SHAMROCK. 
 
 The room by pure Imogen's faith made bright, 
 And Shakspere's dream of the midsummer night,- 
 ^ So sweet with the scents of Juliet's garden, 
 And merry with RosaHnd's mirth in Arden ; 
 
 The room where the jesters would come and go 
 In the smiles of our noble Bassanio ; 
 The room so bright with the love in his eyes, 
 That I held my heart as his merchandise. — 
 
 And the Muse-like maiden was with us there, 
 The Shannon-breadth of her raven hair 
 By one eddy broken, and in its rift 
 Were shamrock and violet borne adrift ; 
 
 Her skin, pure white as a seabird's feather ; 
 Her lashes and brows, blue-black together 
 Like thunder-gloomed Irish mountains rainy ; 
 Her eyes, clear dark as the pools of Slaney, 
 
 Dwelling softly with all a Muse's seeming 
 On mine, abashed at their tender beaming : 
 So beauteous beyond a mortal's possessing 
 And liquid with such appeal and blessing 
 
 That before her mouth of ripe-red spoke 
 Half out of my dreaming I awoke, 
 But her accents angelical, pure and small, 
 Flowed on like the plash of a waterfall.
 
 SONGS OF STUt)Y, 
 
 " Through all the Future's field before me spread, 
 I see bright Song wind like a silver thread ; 
 So through thy singing's passionate reach at Art 
 I see thy heart, 
 
 " That loveth Beauty and is loved again, 
 That makes to bloom the wilderness of Pain, 
 That findeth bliss in misty breezes bland 
 Of Ireland. 
 
 " As buds of April in the dewfall still 
 Ope pious petals on an Irish hill, 
 So let thy song in its meek chantry stand 
 For Ireland." 
 
 Then laughing I — " Behold upon the wall, 
 Hogan's wild book,* a rebel battle- call, 
 The stormy-hearted singing, strangely grand, 
 For Ireland. 
 
 " I drew first breath by the Ionian Sea, 
 That cools the winds of happy Arcady, 
 The sea whence beauty rose to make Hellene 
 This worldly scene. 
 
 * " Legends of Thomond," by Michael Hogan. M. H. Gill, 
 Sackville Street, Dublin.
 
 A LEAF OF SHAMROCK. 9 
 
 "Beauty I worship only. Be my doom 
 That boys and girls may bless me in my tomb, 
 And say, ' He loved — until things cold and null 
 Grew beautiful.' 
 
 " Not all my blood is Erin's. Wherefore strive 
 To keep old feuds of race and creed alive ? 
 Nb Irish dower have I of immense 
 Fierce eloquence. 
 
 " Vengeance and Sorrow beam from Erin's eyes, 
 I shrink before their black intensities ; 
 And pass in spirit to a higher land 
 Than Ireland, . 
 
 " AVhere for harsh drops of tears and gall, I taste 
 Nectar elysian, plenteous even to waste, 
 Brought by the godlike young immortal — Keats — 
 From happy seats 
 
 " Where I would hope to kneel beside a door 
 Of that high court that sitteth evermore. 
 Where Milton, Marlow, Herrick, Shelley meet 
 At Shakspere's feet ; 
 
 " Where I may hear pure Spenser's voice awhile, 
 And see old Chaucer smile his dear sly smile ; 
 Grave Wordsworth rapt upon the hills and streams, 
 While Coleridge dreams."
 
 lO SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " Yet Shakspere," said she, " is so great, — like God 
 With marvellous love and wisdom crowned and shod, 
 Think you his mighty merry heart knows naught 
 Of Goldsmith's thought ? 
 
 " Think you the godlike brother of all men born 
 Can hold sweet Mangan or bright Moore in scorn ? 
 Think you his hand is slackened nor returns 
 The grasp of Burns ? 
 
 " Doubt not that even as aweless Byron stands 
 Flattered by favour at' great Shakspere's hands, 
 So — lulled and loving — slumbers Irish ire 
 In Shakspere's choir. 
 
 " Wherefore no doubt let enter in thine heart, 
 For Erin's art thou even as thou art, 
 And Shakspere loves the whole wide brotherhood 
 Of human blood. — 
 
 " Hast thou not taken joy in Irish air, 
 And found our laughing Irish maids most fair ; 
 Hast thou not seen their guileless eyes express 
 Fair messages 
 
 " Of noble fellowship and upward aim ? 
 And was his not an Irish face that came 
 Lighting the torpid darkness of thy youth 
 Unto Life's truth ?
 
 A LEAF OF SHAMROCK. 1 1 
 
 " Hast thou not seen our sunsets gold and red 
 Fire city and haven and lone mountain head ? 
 Hast thou not watched Ovocan glade and lawn 
 Awake at dawn ? 
 
 " Hast thou found greener glens than Glenmalure, 
 Or Glenismole's pure depths beneath Kippure ? 
 Or thinkest thou some fairer way to pass 
 Than Glenmacnass ? 
 
 " Forgettest thou that gorge where with a cry 
 White PoUinass vaults out eternally 
 To those twin lakes deep-shadowed by the bluff 
 Of grand I.ugduff? 
 
 " Or that moon-haunted, hidden valley-end 
 Where Avonmore's young thronging streams descend 
 Their mighty magic stair of bliss and awe 
 To Luggelaw ? — 
 
 " From heavenly peak to diamond stream's fresh lip 
 Have brotherly love and artist fellowship 
 In storm and sun with thee gone hand in hand 
 In Ireland. 
 
 " Wherefore to Irish smiles and scenes belongs 
 The sweetness given thee to fill thy songs, 
 So wear thou ever, in gladness and in grief, 
 The shamrock leaf" —
 
 12 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 I woke, and the mountain streams were loud, 
 And the mountain pines in the night-wind bowed. 
 And the farms were asleep in the muffling dark, 
 And as yet was no note from cock or lark. 
 
 And Charlie was sleeping, alive and well, 
 In the place where it was our delight to dwell ; 
 With his blood's pure tune in untroubled bars, 
 And his windows wide to the lawns and stars. 
 
 Then the weeks, with excitement and action rife. 
 Went hurrying past in the dream of Life, 
 • In street and study, despair and glee. 
 Playing their grim tragi-comedy ; 
 
 Till upon thick darkness intolerable, 
 
 That folded all I had loved so well. 
 
 Came ghostlike the maid's pure look of mission 
 
 And suasive accents of soft monition — 
 
 To stir in my heart, that I thought was dead, 
 A sob of loving and lowlihead. 
 As my shipwreck of songs at her word I gave 
 To the sad green land of my hero's grave.
 
 T. C. D. 
 
 Up here I sleep in the hawthorn scent : 
 
 It swims through my windows from lawn to lawn, 
 
 While June's first nights with their deep content 
 Possess my spirit from dusk to dawn. 
 
 I lying here, alone, a king, 
 
 In the centre of pleasances green and sweet ; 
 Hearing the treetops murmuring. 
 
 Hearing the far-away sounds of the street ; 
 
 With only to lean o'er the garden bed 
 
 To see steadfast Jupiter shine in the south, 
 
 To see Arcturus hang overhead, 
 
 And the stillness of spars o'er the river-mouth. 
 
 Eastward, westward — spread in the dark 
 An acre of grass, an acre of daisies : 
 
 Northward, a square ; to the south, a park ; 
 Mine is the midmost of pleasant places.
 
 14 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Hence I can see, as the midnight wears, 
 The first blue tides of the morning steal 
 
 Between shores of cloud, among fleets of stars, 
 Blanching the coigns of the Campanile 
 
 And all the divine repose that looms 
 
 Through the College courts as the sweet hours go 
 Palatial piles and their cloistered glooms. 
 
 And dormer, and terrace, and portico. 
 
 While the sealike city is laid asleep, 
 
 No motion or sound in its mountain heights 
 
 Of dark vast waves, or its furrows deep 
 Sown with the lines of unnumbered lights, 
 
 Till the blue turns grey, and the grey turns gold, 
 And the sea and land taste the new day's breath ; 
 
 And I hear the joys of the young morn told 
 By the wakening birds in the boughs beneath : 
 
 And thus in the city I scarcely sigh 
 
 For hollows that eglantines perfume, 
 And speedwells make like an under-sky 
 
 Peering through clouds of chestnut bloom : 
 
 For I know my part in the treasure-trove 
 
 Of the glad green meads where the June winds 
 roam,
 
 T. CD. IS 
 
 As I knew the looks of my fair first love, 
 As 1 know the shapes of our hills at home. 
 
 And so I sleep in the hawthorn scent 
 
 That dwells with me here like a haunting passion, 
 And so in the city I wait content 
 
 Wh9e the time draws on to the long vacation. 
 
 1877.
 
 WHY. 
 
 Three paces from our College door, 
 
 The air flows round me unconfined ; 
 And, looking up, I bathe my mind 
 
 In the sweet heaven arching o'er. 
 
 Blue, black, or grey as it may be, 
 
 I love it always utterly 
 
 And feel my life to it belongs. 
 
 And that is why I make my songs. 
 
 I sing, for wheresoe'er I am 
 
 If I but turn my thoughts apart, 
 I fill the goblet of my heart 
 
 With tides of beauty clear and calm, 
 
 Drawn from a source that lies far off 
 Where human cares are lost in Love. 
 Unto that Love my life belongs. 
 
 And that is why I make my songs.
 
 WHY. 17 
 
 I sing, for wheresoe'er I walk 
 
 By field, or stream, or windy grove. 
 My thronging thoughts within me talk 
 
 Of others needing help and love ; 
 
 Of cheering sun, and soothing shade, 
 Of courage — that is truest aid, 
 I give them what to me belongs. 
 
 And that is why I make my songs. 
 
 I sing, for all the noble dead 
 
 Whose dust has budded into flowers, 
 Would brighten these poor thoughts of ours 
 
 With trust and love and lowlihead. 
 They lie in quiet clear and deep, 
 And as they slumber we shall sleep. 
 And our despairs — for them are wrongs. 
 
 And that is why I make my songs.
 
 PALINGENESIS. 
 
 With what sweet bread is my spirit fed ? 
 
 Of what wild wells hath it drunken to-day, 
 That I feel my blood like a Spring-swol'n flood, 
 
 And my being a-tiptoe — merry with May ? 
 Though I saw last night in my own closed room. 
 
 As I thought upon what was dead and gone, 
 
 The carols of songtide lost in moan, 
 And the glory of youth in gloom. 
 
 Ah ! lamp and table, and rows of books, 
 
 And all the untidy litter of study. 
 You hush not the sound of the rushing brooks. 
 
 You blot not the tints of the sunset ruddy. 
 Never a problem puzzles the elves ; 
 
 The cuckoo's grammar is conned with ease ; 
 And up on the lonely mountain-shelves 
 
 Troubles are kissed away by the breeze.
 
 PALINGENESIS. 19 
 
 I am escaped in the early Summer 
 
 To plant free feet in the quickened green, 
 Among the deep hills a pale new-comer — 
 
 One faded thing in a flowered ravine, 
 Where the swallow swoops and the brown bee settles. 
 
 And cool streams murmur among young fern, 
 And dew lies cool upon primrose petals, 
 
 And grief is a dark hour overworn. 
 
 High on the head of unnumbered winters, 
 
 Bare to the blast and the burning noon — 
 Up where the topmost pinnacle splinters 
 
 To fragments, bleached by the rain and sun — 
 Where the sky bends round like a vacant chamber. 
 
 Curtained about with silken grey, 
 We came over shingle and scarp to clamber 
 
 Up from the valley-land golden-gay. 
 
 Haze flowed below like a river of marble, 
 
 Peaks peeped up, and between them gleamed 
 
 Shimmering stretches of broad sea-purple, 
 Tarnished far as the sea-wind streamed. 
 
 Far away southward the shore went winding. 
 Amber-sanded and edged with white. 
 
 And the inland distance flashed with a blinding 
 
 Lattice of lakes in the noontide light.
 
 20 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Many and many a golden rafter 
 
 Sunset shot from the brown hill-wall ; 
 Down we sprang with our merriest laughter, 
 
 Mocking the far-away throstle's call, 
 Until at length, beneath whispering arches 
 
 Of the cool young beechen wood, 
 We stood hushed, while the soft' bough-surges 
 
 Filled the soul with the solitude. 
 
 So all ills for a while are over. 
 
 On to the end of the world I see 
 Rich, rich miles of the bright furze-cover — 
 
 Balmy reaches of grass-clad lea. 
 So, new-filled with the life of Nature, 
 
 I step, deep-breathed, through the sunset glow, 
 And my pulse keeps time to a marching measure 
 
 Played by fifers of long ago. 
 
 Slieve-Gullion, Co. Armagh, 1874.
 
 DUBLIN COLLEGIANS. 
 
 THEATRE ROYAL, zph November, 1876. 
 
 How the blood in the young veins bounces expect- 
 antly — near and far : 
 
 For the playbill to-night announces the new Shak- 
 sperean Star, 
 
 Who is now for his trial nerving to the rising orchestral 
 strain ; 
 
 For Hamlef's the piece, and Irving is to play us the 
 Royal Dane. 
 
 What joy ere I press my mattress ! what chatter all 
 
 round where I sit ! 
 The noctivagant student head-dress being rife to-night 
 
 in the Pit. 
 To " the Dress," if you come for flirtation — which is 
 
 all very well in its way — 
 But the Pit is the student's station, when he really 
 
 comes for the play.' 
 
 * 
 
 * .See note, p. 25.
 
 22 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And the overture swells as it shouldn't, without jesting 
 
 and quip and quirk ; 
 "Now mock me not, fellow- student, what make you 
 
 from Wittenberg ? " 
 " Oh ! I make from electrostatics ; " " And I from our 
 
 training-boat ; " 
 And another from Mathematics, and others from Jebb 
 
 and Grote. 
 
 From divinity, hockey, dissections, foot-ball, philo- 
 sophy — pshaw ! 
 
 Peace to your glum recollections of Logic, and Latin, 
 and Law. 
 
 And peace to the hospitals, measured by cramped 
 limbs here gathered in — 
 
 Where Christians are killed, or are ushered crying — 
 into a world of sin. 
 
 And Beauty, in bright exaltation o'er the joyous Babel, 
 is met 
 
 By the wondering, mute adoration of the skilfully 
 masked lorgnette ; 
 
 And then eyes rove aloft to the ceiling and the gal- 
 leries tier on tier — 
 
 A-dream in the viohns' pealing, in the flutings, tender 
 and clear.
 
 DUBLIN COLLEGIANS. 23 
 
 We dream of the lips and the tresses, the jewels and 
 fragrance and lace, 
 
 The colours of exquisite dresses, the faultless contour 
 of a face, 
 
 A soul that our spirit goes seeking on pinions of per- 
 fume and sound — 
 
 We^tart wide awake without speaking as a hat rolls 
 away on the. ground. 
 
 The overture streams to conclusion, and hovers, and 
 
 flutters, and clings ; 
 The voices yet rise in confusion — when, lo ! as a little 
 
 bell rings, 
 The music dies, and the clappings die as a breaker 
 
 dies on the shore ; 
 And the curtain goes up on the midnight sky from the 
 
 platform at Elsinore.
 
 STUDY ON THE RIVER DODDER,* 
 NEAR DUBLIN. 
 
 The lovely sky is seen half-bare, 
 
 The calm, bright river past us flows ; 
 
 December holds the evening air 
 As fairest fingers hold a rose, 
 
 So light, so sweet the touch of chill 
 On clear green mead and winding tide ; 
 
 The brown trees on the height are still. 
 Nor mourn their plumy summer pride. 
 
 We feel the quiet Sunday time 
 
 Sink to the heart. Though far away 
 
 Be bells that ring the vesper chime, 
 The landscape, restful, bids to pray 
 
 * Between Rathgar Bridge and the gateway of Rathfarnham 
 Castle.
 
 STUDY ON THE RIVER DODDER. 25 
 
 As the heart prays without the lips' 
 Weak words, — even as before our feet 
 
 The unruffled water, dreaming, shps 
 From glassy sheet to glassy sheet. 
 
 We know this place. The poplar lone 
 A tall, dark pillar — but it gleams 
 
 By moonlight, — the white arch of stone. 
 The open green between the streams. 
 
 The gateway grey — amongst the trees 
 That sweep between us and the south, 
 
 The cascade's murmur on the breeze, 
 
 The low bridge at the brooklet's mouth, — 
 
 We know them all. They show to us 
 
 The dearness of a dozen years ; 
 Twined memories multitudinous 
 
 Of happy smiles, of bitter tears. 
 
 Rock-seated on the river's brink 
 
 In sabbath twilight, strange is it 
 To watch the cool full stream, and think 
 
 Of last nicrht — of the excited Pit* 
 
 'to' 
 
 * Of the historic Theatre Royal, Hawkins Street — since 
 destroyed by fire— but on the "College Night," 1876, filled by 
 our fellow-students. The "Pit" came up to the orchestra in 
 the old theatre, there being no fauteuils.
 
 26 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Filled with our lusty College crew, 
 
 Red-ribboned, loud in Irving's praise, — 
 
 Young Hamlet full before our view, 
 To haunt us till our latest days. 
 
 Breathless we watched him move and muse. 
 
 The gilding and the gas were lost 
 Out of our minds. Who would peruse 
 
 The imperfections of the Ghost, 
 
 Or shovings-on of Elsinore towers. 
 While Irving held us by a spell ? 
 
 A thousand hearts were tranced with ours, 
 A thousand bosoms rose and fell 
 
 With Hamlet's sigh, with Hamlet's jest. 
 
 The house was rapt. The galleries high 
 Leaned listening heads. The actor paced, 
 
 Bearing the praise of every eye. 
 
 And after the great play was played, 
 
 After the uproar of acclaim 
 That through the sleeping city brayed 
 
 Its fanfare of the player's fame, 
 
 I grasped the fine-wrought, eloquent hand, 
 I talked with Hamlet, friendliest-voiced ; 
 
 Anon he took the table-end, 
 
 The healths went round, and we rejoiced,
 
 STUDY ON THE RIVER DODDER. 2/ 
 
 And the great heart's great gratitude 
 
 For loving homage nobly won 
 And freely given, seemed more good 
 
 To pledge, than aught beneath the sun. 
 
 Indeed, well-pleasing was the feast 
 That filled the flying hours of night ; 
 
 But now — this river's argent breast. 
 The pale, sweet sky, the tender light, 
 
 Steal on the sense, and drink the soul ; 
 
 The clear west opens, calm and broad ; 
 The deep peace deepens, and the whole 
 
 Stirred spirit nestles up to God. 
 
 lO/A December, 1876.
 
 FRESHETS. 
 
 The snows break up ; and to the fields and hedges 
 
 The spring her green flame sets ; 
 And in the wintriest lane the tired eye catches 
 
 Rare joy firom violets : 
 
 Touches of God's divine relenting fingers 
 
 Along the desolate ways, 
 Hope's coy tint glancing firom these meekest bringers 
 
 Of mournful strength and praise. 
 
 O my young hero in Life's earnest story, 
 
 This spring you will not wake 
 To see with me the starry primrose-glory 
 
 On bank and fallow break. 
 
 You will not hear the flooded streamlets breasting 
 
 Their curves of turf and sand. 
 Nor see the daffodil — the wind's playmate — cresting 
 
 The slopes of open land. — 
 
 — Will he not know this springtime how I miss him ? 
 
 How, as I sink to sleep. 
 The wild tears well with all my old " God bless him," 
 
 And how I wake to weep
 
 FRESHETS. 29 
 
 Lest that mysterious country which he enters 
 
 Should be as marred as this 
 With Doubt and Want, and plague and ghastly winters, 
 
 And all that is not bliss ? 
 
 Lest there, as here, an hour's ingenuous error 
 
 Should, like a curse, remain 
 Fertile in daily shame and nightly terror 
 
 And bootless rage and pain. 
 
 Lest, while despairingly I wait and waver 
 
 With aching heart and brow. 
 He moaneth, smitten down in brave endeavour, 
 
 " O for my brother now ! " 
 
 And so I weep and weep, till I remember 
 
 That if at all he be, 
 Then all brave hearts of true celestial temper 
 
 Must love him utterly, 
 
 And God will be more near than in the frozen 
 
 Foul town by the cold bay. 
 Where our hearts break, though violet-leaves be chosen 
 
 To deck the rimy clay. — 
 
 O Death, best blessing sent us by Our Father, 
 
 Balm for all aches and frets, 
 Would brother and brother slept in thy peace together 
 
 Under the violets.
 
 GRATTAN BRIDGE, DUBLIN. 
 
 From bright Glenaspinkin's wild dingle 
 
 The mountain tides, flashing and free, 
 Sweep down to the city, to mingle 
 
 At length with the tides of the sea : 
 Rushing under these well-trodden arches 
 
 With throbs of a turbulent pulse, 
 While over the war of the surges 
 
 Hang hundreds and hundreds of gulls. 
 
 Fine heads, and fine feet, and fine pinions, 
 
 Poised high in the sunshiny air : 
 Pure creatures of purer dominions, 
 
 Flown in to our foulness and care 
 With a sea-gust of Summer, that scatters 
 
 The dust-laden smoke of the street. 
 And o'er the sick face of the waters 
 
 Blows world-wide the ocean-breath sweet.
 
 GRATTAN BRIDGE, DUBLIN. 3 1 
 
 O sea-mews, why come without warning 
 
 To charm and unsteady my brain, 
 With the blue-and-gold burst of the morning, 
 
 And flood of the hill-gathered rain ? 
 O sea-mews, ye seem in your whiteness 
 
 The unbodied souls of the blest 
 Passing by — a dear presence of brightness 
 
 Come here to me out of its rest ! 
 
 For here stood adoring together 
 
 One night — in the summer gone by, 
 After tempest — myself and my brother, 
 
 (The glad stars like tears in the sky 
 Of rapture and splendour and union — 
 
 Of spirits by union sublime,) 
 Lost deep in transcendent communion 
 
 Though we knew not it was the last time. 
 
 The west was a pale field of azure 
 
 Slow-deepening (for sunset was done), 
 White-veiled with stray clouds — like the vesture 
 
 Of bathers gone down with the sun, 
 Leaving scarfs from the limbs of proud maidens 
 
 Strewn round, and by arch winds uncurled 
 On the shore of those seas of cool radiance 
 
 That wash the bright ends of the world.
 
 32 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 We strolled by the quayage and bridges 
 
 In the tenderest time of the night ; 
 While throbbed in the clear river-reaches 
 
 The freshet's and sea-tide's full height. 
 And this was the path my thoughts rolled in 
 
 While deepened the evening divine : — 
 " I would not think the whole world too golden 
 
 To give to this comrade of mine." 
 
 God, am I robbed of his presence ? 
 
 Do cold grasses thicken above 
 The sleep of that fair-growing essence 
 
 Of all human power and love ? 
 Shall I reach him no more — save by loosing 
 
 My hold upon all he held dear, 
 By quenching all action, and choosing 
 
 The dreamless repose of the bier ? 
 
 O, better the grave-moss rain-sated, 
 
 The weather-worn, mouldering stone. 
 Than to rot in the Life that he hated 
 
 Inactive, unknowing, unknown ! 
 O, better sharp Death's passing anguish. 
 
 Than to wait without labour or aim. 
 Unloved and unloving, to languish 
 
 And know but our bareness and shame.
 
 GRATTAN BRIDGE, DUBLIN. 33 
 
 Far under the bridge-ledge of iron 
 
 The ebbing sea-tide hurries down, 
 A-gleam — hke a huge dying siren 
 
 Whose white hmbs and azure eyes drown 
 In tangles of giantess tresses 
 
 Wild-eddying, twisted with snakes — 
 Writhing black in an agony that hisses 
 
 And rears in the white water-breaks. 
 
 All the gliding death-spectacle glimmers. 
 
 Far-stretching in lustre and gloom ; 
 The drowned phantom beckons and shimmers, 
 
 Deep-bosomed, broad-browed as the tomb. 
 O the cold of those anodyne kisses 
 
 Plunged over my forehead and face ; 
 And the opiate, killing caresses 
 
 Of that down-dragging, mighty embrace ! 
 
 The swift sun dispels her dead body ; 
 
 The sea- mews float up with a cry. 
 Brave hold upon life is plain duty, 
 
 Though deep be the pure bliss — to die ; 
 And though yon vast shuddering spectre 
 
 Of the city's corruption and crime, 
 Have given our beloved for nectar 
 
 The poisonous fume of her slime. 
 
 D
 
 34 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 In wild Glenaspinkin's green valley 
 
 The din of the mountain cascades 
 Ever pours through the silences holy 
 
 Where fern-plumes illumine the shades ; 
 And oak-boughs and ash-boughs arch leafy 
 
 O'er the chant's fragrant swellings and lulls, 
 Though hearts be so hopeless and heavy 
 
 Down here, on the bridge with the gulls.
 
 FEUILLEMORTE. 
 
 In the dreary College the days grow short. 
 
 While the dead leaf shivers along the court : 
 
 There is change — there is death — in the boughs and 
 
 skies, 
 And the quick tears flash in my wearied eyes ; 
 
 Though I hold my grief as a thing reproved 
 That would sadden the daring of souls he loved. 
 Yet amid their speech comes the sense of death, 
 And I think of him, blessing him under my breath. 
 
 For " Ah ! " I have Said to him, heart to heart, 
 " We have much to learn when our pathways part, 
 Launching forth from a love of such might and right, 
 Untainted by aught of the parasite." 
 
 And so, though his thoughts were so glad and brave, 
 I bear in the wounds of my soul his grave : 
 And so, though his brother and mine be by, 
 My heart — that would help — rots inwardly 
 
 With a sickening pang of ghastly stress. 
 While the day drags deathward its weariness ; 
 And my sight is with deluging thick tears drowned, 
 As the dead leaves shiver along the ground.
 
 REVEILLON. 
 
 We thronged through the frost at midnight,- 
 
 While the dean and the dons all slept, 
 And only the stars and moonlight 
 
 Their watch o'er the stillness kept, — 
 For a great wild midnight revel 
 
 Of a noisy College-boy horde, 
 Where the jest met the hundred-throated 
 
 Vast laughter-storm round the board. 
 
 Good cheer and good wine and whiskey, 
 
 And a fire that roared up the flue, 
 And faces of youthful triumph, 
 
 And faces half-maniac too ; 
 Tragic, heroic, angel. 
 
 As ever were seen on earth — ■ 
 But now sadness was lost in feasting. 
 
 And thought in the crash of mirth. 
 
 O the tunes on the mad piano, 
 
 And the soloing tenor sweet ! 
 O the pealing farcical chorus, 
 
 Awaking the empty street !
 
 REVEILLON. 3/ 
 
 O the toasts and the cheers and speeches, 
 
 With ambushing jests of flame ! 
 O the time when they all rose shouting 
 
 With bumpers brimmed at my name ! 
 
 O, God bless the dear, dear College, 
 
 And my dear wild bright compeers. 
 Who guessed not my thought as I faced them 
 
 With eyes on fire with tears : 
 For I thought of a voice that echoed 
 
 Beside me oft in that hall. 
 And the silent grave-mould sinking 
 
 On the dearest face of them all.
 
 REQUIESCAT. 
 
 " Encore une autre fois decembre 
 Va retourner le sablier, 
 Le present entre dans ma chambre 
 Et ne dit en vain d'oublier." 
 
 T. Gautier, Le Chateau du Souvenir. 
 
 In the College here of the Holy Undivided Trinity, 
 Fast by the city and river, and flanked by the hills 
 
 and sea — 
 The gracious garden of study Queen Elizabeth made 
 
 to be — 
 
 I dreamed at my open window, in the night's cool 
 
 afternoon. 
 When the courts and park were crowded with the 
 
 verdure of early June, 
 And soft upon lawn and tree-top lay the luscious light 
 
 of the moon. 
 
 As it slept on the wrinkled headlands, the horns of 
 
 our azure bay ; 
 As it fed at the feet of mountains the ripening slopes 
 
 of hay ; 
 As it fell on the still canals, and their lashers' white 
 
 shattering spray.
 
 REQUIESCAT. 39 
 
 And sanctified were our chambers, as Juliet's high- 
 
 bowered nest, 
 By the slow deep regular breathing of a sleeper's 
 
 perfect rest — 
 Of all the students I loved, this student I loved 
 
 the best. 
 
 The midnight freshness and fragrance blew in by 
 
 window and door. 
 And fluttered the page poetic that the sleeper 
 
 dreamed once more, 
 And the sibylline leaves of Science lying scriptured 
 
 on desk and floor. 
 
 Not a far-off wheel-clang or foot-beat, the listening ear 
 
 to fill ; 
 Till the morning star flashed splendid through the 
 
 yellow moonlight still. 
 And I lifted my dropped dear Gautier from the dewy 
 
 window-sill. 
 
 * 
 
 The dream that I dreamed had ending, like the city 
 
 silence deep. 
 To-day o'er the huckstering Babel, methinks, the 
 
 angels weep, 
 And the door at my shoulder opes not on my 
 darling's deeper sleep.
 
 HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." 
 
 The light in his window is darkened, 
 
 The window set wide in air, 
 Where from carven clusters of primrose 
 
 The nymph looks over the square, 
 In her curves of alabaster 
 
 Eternally pure and fair. 
 
 The light in his window is darkened, — 
 Though lovely her brow and breast, 
 
 Though the punctual dawn and sunset 
 Have failed not from east or west, 
 
 His courage and patience are finished, 
 And he is asleep and at rest. 
 
 Ah ! dear, be thy slumber unfevered, 
 And thornless and glareless thy bed ; 
 
 Nor phantom of passion disquiet 
 The calm that enmantles thine head. 
 
 But the slaking thick darkness forgetful 
 About thee be heavily shed.
 
 "HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP."" 4 1 
 
 Nor moans of our wounded, nor weeping — 
 
 Howe'er we be weary at heart — 
 Make throb that true breast with our anguish, 
 
 Make mutter those lips at our smart : 
 In the march and the battle of living, 
 
 Not again, O beloved, have part. 
 
 If conquest were thine, and old bounteous 
 
 Frank-laughing defiance of ill, 
 The hearts that beat time to thy triumphs 
 
 Were yet as the pulse of thy will ; 
 But the peace beyond all understanding, 
 
 Dear heart, is more bountiful still. 
 
 So the lights in thy windows are darkened — 
 Wide windows to east and to west — 
 
 And the quiet forget-me-not blossoms 
 With heart's-eases over thy breast, 
 
 And grief is assuaged by the whisper 
 That thou art asleep and at rest.
 
 A PLAYBILL. 
 
 The Pit and the horseshoes o'er it 
 Had smiles for their happy pave, 
 
 And over them surged at seasons 
 Clear laughter's musical wave, 
 
 And it seemed, as I heard them laughing. 
 As though I lay in my grave. 
 
 And so strange it seemed in my grave -rest, 
 That the song at the foot-lights trilled, 
 
 That eyes had the same old brightness 
 And the old laugh was unstilled, 
 
 That the old jest had the old relish 
 And the empty places were filled. 
 
 Yet it soothed me to know in my grave-rest 
 That the young were so bright and brave, 
 
 That the world could spare the broken 
 Dead hearts that it could not save, 
 
 That there still was light and laughter 
 Although I lay in my grave.
 
 DEI GRATIA. 
 
 When hawthorn boughs begin to bud 
 
 In eager green along the way, 
 And merry songsters toss a flood 
 Of melody from spray to spray, 
 And in the budded branches play 
 The little winds, not chill or loud, 
 But, softly lifted, softly bowed. 
 Making the perches rock and sway ; 
 
 Then, gladsome as the lamb and lark, 
 
 I break from grievous thoughts away, — 
 Forget what's wrong, forget what's dark, 
 And see the whole world good and gay. 
 
 When pearly skies break up in blue. 
 Raining out milky, misty gold, 
 
 And all the sweet land through and through 
 Is filled with pleasure manifold 
 Of growth and light and music bold,
 
 44 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 To close the wound and cure the smart, 
 And strengthen all the thankful heart 
 In joyful praises dawnward rolled ; 
 Then meekly as the milkmaids bring 
 
 Their primrose posies pure and cold, 
 
 My soul grows happier — thinking Spring 
 
 The smile of him beneath the mould.
 
 PASTORAL. 
 
 We were four upon Easter evening 
 Where these four fair valleys part, 
 
 The Goldmine vale, and the Aughrim, 
 And Ovoca, and Glenart. 
 
 And we came to this very hostel, 
 
 As now, amid evening hymns 
 Of the crooning woodland cushats, 
 
 And the answering rush of streams. 
 
 We had come with the choiring waters 
 Through the chapels of budding glades, 
 
 From their waking where Kevin worshipped- 
 In white chorister-cascades. 
 
 And seaward, still chanting, chanting. 
 As we paused by this wood-clad height, 
 
 The tides rolled, mixed with the moonrise, 
 And kissed by the cherishing night.
 
 46 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 We were four, by the benediction 
 And bliss of the time imbued, 
 
 By the gleaming of branching waters. 
 And the darkness of wood and wood. 
 
 We were two wrote missives to maidens 
 At the time of the birth of stars ; 
 
 We were two who pondered in silence 
 Amid incense-rings of cigars ; 
 
 We were four, for that sacred season. 
 In a world that was calm and pure, 
 
 Made bright with hope and remembrance, 
 And peace too sweet to endure. 
 
 We were four — who to-night are scattered 
 With each one his thorn to grieve. 
 
 Although flowers and frondage and bird-song 
 Abound for the Whitsun Eve ; 
 
 We were four — who to-night are scattered 
 On the currents of change and scathe, 
 
 And three are sad, for the fourth one 
 Is in sight of the hostel — Death. _ 
 
 Though it seems but an hour since we rested 
 Where these four fair valleys part — 
 
 The Goldmine vale, and the Aughrim, 
 
 And Ovoca, and Glenart. 
 1880.
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 When in my bed my limbs I lay, 
 And feel the chillness of the sheets, 
 
 I think upon the graveyard clay 
 
 Whose bridal clasp each creature meets 
 The coffin couch of shrouded sweets, 
 
 Where I shall sleep by night and day.
 
 LANDSCAPES. 
 
 " O the wild green hollows full of heart's-ease. 
 O the fragrant places where birds quire ; 
 O the silence that is deeper than all language. 
 And the cool that overpasses all desire ! "
 
 A MARCH WHISTLE. 
 
 The north wind blows across ridge and river, 
 The pine-crest reels at his furious charge ; 
 In the topmost woodland he roystereth ever, 
 And high o'er the valley he flies at large. 
 But ere he sweeps up the next bare hill, 
 He whirls the wild rain, spattering chill 
 On cheeks that flush and on lips that quiver 
 To hail the herald of lusty March. 
 
 The sea-channel spumes as the vast blast crashes, 
 
 And up on the green cape springs the spray; 
 The billow leaps and the mad surf lashes 
 Along the curve of the seething bay ; 
 
 And out at the lighthouse-point, the light 
 Gleams like a star on the glooming night, 
 And ruddily over the wan surge flashes 
 The levelled glare of its fiery ray.
 
 52 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 But the storm will be well overblown to-morrow, 
 
 And slowly will sink the swollen waves; 
 The new morn's verdure and breath will borrow 
 A wild, fresh charm from this gust that raves : 
 The sky and the heart from this day forth 
 Will brighten, in spite of the blustering north ; 
 For the joy of the young Spring soothes all sorrow, 
 As daisies overgrow last year's graves. 
 
 The iron Winter is past and over, 
 
 And mad March revels in glorious glee ; 
 And the golden kingcup and purple clover 
 Will soon embroider the deep-grassed lea : 
 The primrose buds under holt and hedge, 
 And forget-me-not amid sheltering sedge, 
 And the cool full freshet, a singing rover, 
 Gushes along through the vales to sea. 
 
 The snows are gone, and the sharp sleet showers 
 
 Will mildlier drive o'er the deepening green, 
 And the little speedwell and strawberry flowers 
 In place of these daffodils will be seen. 
 And the wild birds ever in glen and grove. 
 Will carol to nested mates their love ; 
 And ever will multiply with the hours, 
 Pale primroses in the deep ravine.
 
 A MARCH WHISTLE. 53 
 
 And the sky will be blue over hill and hollow 
 
 And city and masted river-mouth, 
 And the mellow cuckoo and swift-winged swallow 
 Will soon be here again from the south. 
 And the lark will rise from the de\vy lawn 
 Chiding in music the lingering dawn ; 
 And sooner and sooner the morn will follow, 
 And every day will have joyful growth. 
 
 The dark tall wood, and bush and bramble. 
 Light young whispering leaves will fledge; 
 And lambs will bleat, and with gleeful gambol 
 Pass and repass by the coppice edge. 
 And frosts will fail in the happy valleys. 
 And blue-bells bloom and the dell's frail lilies ; 
 And humming the gold-zoned bee will ramble, 
 And bright mists float by the red hill's ledge. 
 
 And the moon will shine with her maiden splendour 
 
 On mount and marsh and on mead and shore, 
 And the growth of the genial month shall render 
 Much tribute rich to the Spring's fair store ; 
 For buds will open and flowers be born, 
 And over the upland the late-sown corn 
 .Shall thrive, though its paly shoots be tender, 
 And vernal blooms shall be more and more.
 
 54 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And as the gladdening season advances 
 Even the old will forbear to be sad ; 
 Sunshine bright in the stream-shallow dances — 
 We will escape from the painful and bad. 
 Love will range with his bow and quiver, 
 And shoot sweet shafts (though at some, ah ! 
 never). 
 And there will be amorous sighs and glances 
 Purely born between maid and lad. 
 
 So step out well over bent and heather, 
 
 And set your face to the keen wind's bite, 
 With locks blown back in the bracing weather. 
 And eye as the fledgling eaglet's bright 
 
 For in cheek and limb the sharp-stung blood 
 Flies like the mettlesome March wind rude — 
 Grey Winter is conquered altogether, 
 And Spring exults in his infant might.
 
 MAGAZINE FORT, PHCENIX PARK, 
 DUBLIN. 
 
 Inside its zigzag lines the little camp is asleep, 
 
 Embalmed in the infinite breath of the greensward, 
 
 the river, the stars. 
 Round the staff the yellow leopards of England, 
 weary of wars, 
 Curl and uncurl, to the murmurous voice of the green- 
 wood deep. 
 On the lonely terrace their watch the shadowy senti- 
 nels keep : 
 Each bayonet a spire of silver — high over the silvery 
 
 jars 
 Of the streamtide, swooning in starlight adown its 
 foam-fretted bars 
 To the city, that lies in a shroud as of ashes under the 
 steep. 
 To the south are the hills everlasting ; eastward, 
 
 the sea-capes and isles ; 
 Inland the levels of emerald stretch for a hundred 
 miles.
 
 NIGHT AIR. 
 
 To the cape at our feet from the cape far away 
 On the changeful floor of the hill-girt bay 
 In a staircase of silver the moonbeams fall ; 
 And outside the black sea lies like a wall. 
 
 Our life is varied — our life is bright 
 With noise and motion and tissued light, 
 All the restless days of our mortal breath ; 
 But around are the hills and seas of death. 
 
 Alverno.
 
 AUGUST, 1878. 
 {Adapted from the French of Emile Deschatnps.) 
 
 When the sun and wind have revelled here 
 
 To sea-pink's rustle and sea-wave's chime, 
 When Killiney stands in the distance clear 
 
 For another thousand years of time — 
 Some Irish or British Association, 
 
 Picnicking, like us, in these shingles that rattle, 
 May talk of the past of our land and nation, 
 
 Of Norman, and Dane, and King Brian's battle. 
 And across that age of the great world's growth 
 
 This verse to some poet in love may say 
 That my love was staying a month at Howth, 
 
 And that month for us went by like a day. 
 And this gorge will remember, and gaze to the south 
 
 On the sunshiny hills and the breakers' play.
 
 CREDO. 
 
 When roses hang by the meadow marges, 
 
 And over the lawn the orchids bloom, 
 And June pours into the mountain gorges 
 
 A deluge of golden gorse-blossom, — 
 I hold it better to range the coppice, 
 
 And trace the stream through the ferny glen, 
 Than with dwindled breath in a dusty office 
 
 To thumb the ledger and ply the pen. 
 
 When the branch is lost in the leaves that garb it, 
 
 And heather flushes the mountain scar, 
 And scythes upgather the gorgeous carpet 
 
 Flung over the landscape near and far, — 
 I trow it is sweeter to see the heaven, 
 
 And rove in the sun with the birds and brooks. 
 Than with aching brows from dawn till even 
 
 To pore and puzzle o'er crabbed books.
 
 LUDI. 
 
 A CHORUSING circlet of childhood 
 
 On flowers of carpeted wool, 
 A musical babel of laughter 
 
 From blond baby heads beautiful 
 Round the bright little queen of the revel 
 
 In her birthright of birth-night rule. 
 
 A tiny perfumed invitation 
 
 Was sent us — for music and tea ; 
 
 And the orphan who clung to my finger 
 Laughed up in my face joyously 
 
 As he spelt out the motto, " Come early : " 
 And here, welcomed early, were we. 
 
 And the sunset flowed over the children's 
 Hunt-slipper and bhnd-man's buff; 
 
 And creatures, half-child and half-woman, 
 Led far through the festal of love, 
 
 Half mad with delight of delighting. 
 
 Till the heart, overblissed, said — " Enough !
 
 60 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 But dragoons, riding seaward that morning, 
 Plashed deep through the mire of the plain : 
 
 Poor pawns on the chessboard of Europe ; 
 A gloomy defile through the rain 
 
 For the helmets of brass and the mantles 
 That shall rot in the fields of the slain. 
 
 And statesman sits puzzled by statesman 
 And the grand royal battle-hounds gloat, 
 
 "For the nations stand armed in the darkness 
 And wonder if God taketh note 
 
 Of all the hands filled with leashed thunders. 
 Of all the swords bent at each throat. 
 
 But the children played on until bedtime 
 
 Their varying innocent play, 
 Without thought of God's toys— the statesmen. 
 
 Without thought of peoples at bay ; 
 Going home in the hush of the twilight 
 
 Through the branches and grasses of May.
 
 THE IMPASSIBLE. 
 
 In Ovoca valley the wood and water 
 
 Are dipt in a shimmering haze of light, 
 On the beach at Arklow the sand and water 
 
 Flashes and sparkles in blue and white. 
 In Ovoca valley the woodbine-clusters 
 
 Are hung in the wood like chandeliers, 
 In Arklow harbour the bright tide lustres 
 
 The murmurous darkness under the piers. 
 In Ovoca valley the cart-boy listens — 
 
 " Cuckoo, cuckoo " — through the brooding heat ; 
 In the surge at Arklow the bather glistens 
 
 A fairy — afloat at the green hill's feet. 
 
 The streams come down to Ovoca valley, 
 
 Out of the distance, out of the hills ; 
 From ledge to ledge falling musically, 
 
 To a hundred lakes, in a million rills ; 
 From stony teats of hugh Lugnaculliogh's, — 
 
 And Mullacleevaun's enormous mass ; 
 From Croghan and Douce and Carrowstick hollows, 
 
 And purple summits o'er Glenmacnass ;
 
 62 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 From black Nahanagan, wilder Ouler, 
 
 And Luggelaw, walled with wood and rock ; 
 From bright Lough Dan, spreading broader, fuller, 
 
 And the double darkness in Glendalough : 
 The streamlets repose and the streamlets rally. 
 
 And narrow and broaden down rapid and reach, 
 Till they mingle at last in Ovoca valley 
 
 With sound that abides like the scent of a peach. 
 But they flow in tune down Ovoca valley 
 
 Where miners tunnel the clear cliff's flank ; 
 By coppice and meadow down musically, 
 
 And out in the offing to Arklow Bank. 
 
 In Ovoca valley a girl is singing 
 
 With glad thoughts fixed on her sailor frank. 
 While sand upon sand is the bright tide bringing 
 
 To bury that sailor on Arklow Bank. 
 The good ship sails and the glad girl singeth, 
 
 And sunshine is bright upon stream and sea. 
 The high hills gleam and the white wave springeth, 
 
 And stout is the sailor and filled with glee ; 
 But when channel and valley in midnight slumber. 
 
 And rain rinses lawn and landing-place, 
 That ship shall be manned by a mermaid number 
 
 Whose kisses shall marble the mariner's face. 
 And the morn will be bright in Ovoca valley 
 
 Though the girl's heart break that her sailor sank. 
 And the wave will omit not a sparkling sally 
 
 In tossing his corse upon Arklow Bank.
 
 ACTAEON. 
 
 " Sic ilium fata ferebant." 
 
 Ovid, Metamorphoses, iii. 176. 
 
 It was on the mount Cithaeron, in the pale and 
 
 misty morn, 
 That the hero, young Actaeon, sounded the hunter's ' 
 
 horn. 
 Princehest of pursuers of the flying roe was he, 
 Son of great Aristaeus and Theban Autonoe. 
 OakUke in massy stature and carriage of kingly limb, 
 Lo the broad brave grace, and the fleet fine might of 
 
 primal manhood in him ; 
 Grandly browed as a sea-cliff" with the curling waves at 
 
 its base. 
 And its storm-haunted crest a tangle of deep ripe 
 
 weeds and grass. 
 And many an Arcadian maiden thought not of a 
 
 maiden's pride, 
 But looked on the youth with longing, and watched as 
 
 he went, and sighed.
 
 64 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And Aegle had proffered a jewel that a queen might 
 
 carefully keep, 
 For a favouring smile of the hunter, and a touch of 
 
 his beardless lip ; 
 But never on dame or damsel had his falcon glance 
 
 made stay, 
 And he turned from the love-sick Aegle., and tossed 
 
 her gifts away. 
 For where was so soft a bower, or where so goodly 
 
 a hall, 
 As the dellwhere the .echoes listened to the noise of 
 
 the waterfall ? 
 And where was there cheek of woman as lovely to 
 
 soul and sense 
 As the gracious hues of the woodlands in depths of 
 
 the stately glens ? 
 And where were there eyes or tresses as gloriously 
 
 dark or bright 
 As the flood of the wild Alpheus as it poured from 
 
 the lonely height ? 
 
 So the hero, young Actaeon, fled far from the 
 
 girl-filled house, 
 To rove with the beamy spear-shaft through the 
 
 budded forest boughs. 
 And sweeter than smiles of Aegle or sheen of her 
 
 rippling hair 
 Were the heads of his great hounds • fawning, or 
 
 snuffing the morning air ;
 
 ACTAEON. 65 
 
 And to tread by the precipices that down from his 
 
 feet shore clean ; 
 And to mark where the dappled leopard was couched 
 
 in the long ravine ; 
 And to look on the eagle wheeling up peakward, 
 
 and hear him scream ; 
 And to plant strong steps in the meadows, and plash 
 
 through the babbling stream, 
 And to hurl the spear in the thicket, and draw the 
 
 bow in the glade, 
 And to rush on the foaming fury of the boar by the 
 
 dogs embayed ; 
 And ever in midland valley to smell the leaves and 
 
 the grass. 
 Or the brine-scent blown o'er the headlands high up 
 
 to the bare hill-pass. 
 Where lovelier far than Aegle or her eyes' bright 
 
 witchery. 
 Was Morning, born of the marriage of silent Sky and 
 
 Sea. 
 
 So the hunter, young Actaeon, to the mount 
 
 Cithaeron came. 
 And blew his horn in the dank white morn to startle 
 
 the sleeping game ; 
 Nor thought, as the pealing echoes were clattered 
 
 from crag to crag, 
 That Fate on his trace held him in chase, as a huge 
 
 hound holds a stag. f
 
 66 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 By rock and by rift and runnel, by marsh and 
 
 meadow and mound, 
 He went with his dogs beside him, and marvelled no 
 
 game was found ; 
 Till the length of the whole green gorge, and the grey 
 
 cliffs gleaming on high. 
 Rang and re-echoed with horns and the musical 
 
 hunting cry. 
 And the hounds broke out of the cover, all baying 
 
 together in tune ; 
 And the hart sprang panting before them along up 
 
 the lawns dew-strewn. 
 And a bevy of buskined virgins, dove-breasted, broke 
 
 from the bowers, 
 With spears half-poised for the hurling and tresses 
 
 tangled with flowers : 
 Their lips, rose-ruddy, disparted to draw their delight- 
 some breath 
 For the chase, and the cheer thereof ringing the 
 
 rapture of dealing death — ■ 
 The fine heads eagerly lifted, the pitiless fair eyes 
 
 fixed ; 
 The flower-fresh cheeks flushed flower-like, — rich lily, 
 
 rich rose commixed ; 
 The slender feet flying swiftly, the slight shapes rush- 
 ing like reeds 
 When the Thracian breezes of Winter descend on the 
 
 marshy meads ;
 
 ACTAEON. 67 
 
 So swept they along like music ; and wildered Actaeon 
 
 stood, 
 Till the last of the maiden rangers was lost in the 
 
 leaning wood. 
 
 As a Bacchanal starts from slumber on snowy 
 ridges remote, 
 
 To see o'er the peaks and gorges the silvery moon- 
 beams float, 
 
 So the soul of the youth was smitten with wildest 
 wonder through ; 
 
 And a deadly tremor of madness through his quiver- 
 ing members flew ; 
 
 And a joy that was almost anguish took hold of his 
 breast and brain, 
 
 And he nothing on earth regarded but to see the 
 nymphs again ; 
 
 Though the scorn of their arrowy glances should slay 
 him a thousand ways, 
 
 He would die by their merciless sweetness with an 
 open, adoring gaze. 
 
 And she, Diana, their leader, the queen of the 
 greenwood glade, 
 The goddess of stainless maidens, herself a stainless 
 maid ;
 
 68 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Fair sister of sunbright Apollo, they twain being born 
 
 at a birth, 
 Gold-haired children of Jove supreme, and lovers and 
 
 lighteners of earth ; 
 Phoebe, maiden majestical, sovereign lady most 
 
 high; 
 Moon, more lovely, more chaste, than all the stars of 
 
 the sky ; 
 Cold as the dew on a flower and pure as the wings of 
 
 a dove ; 
 Divine — the rival of Venus, and more victorious than 
 
 Love; 
 Ruler of mightiest waters, and couched in them night 
 
 by night, 
 And soul of the sunless heaven, laving the world with 
 
 light; 
 And edging the clouds and mountains with splendour, 
 
 and tipping the trees. 
 And flying o'er lake and river with brighter feet than 
 
 the breeze ; 
 And at morn with kirtle and quiver a huntress by 
 
 field and wood, 
 The swift overtaker, the certain smiter of hart and of 
 
 pard pursued ; 
 Hater of wantons, and shunner of sloth, and fleer of 
 
 revels and feasts. 
 And scorner of man through the brutish in man, and 
 
 lance-bearing slayer of beasts ;
 
 ACTAEON. 69 
 
 Enamoured of all the freshness that the lonely hills 
 
 immure ; 
 And Queen of Honour, and Patroness prayed to of 
 
 women pure ; 
 Modest maidenliness made perfect, immortal in virgin 
 
 grace, 
 The young Actaeon would see her, and die beholding 
 
 her face. 
 
 So the hunter wandered hapless, not caring to lift 
 
 the spear, 
 But found .not the racing maidens, nor heard in the 
 
 woods their cheer ; 
 And weary at last of seeking, he cast him ado\vn to 
 
 sleep. 
 Where joined a wood and a meadow in greenness 
 
 heavy and deep 
 Of the watered Gargaphian valleys, that spread in the 
 
 noonday heat 
 A welcome shelter for sun-scorched eyes, a rest for 
 
 far-travelled feet. 
 So he dreamed ; and lo, in a vision he saw a lovely place 
 With boughs overgloomed, and a river that fell down 
 
 a rock's dark face 
 To a basin brimming with crystal, pebble-paved, 
 
 mossy-quayed. 
 Filled \vith the dusky lustre and broken lights of the 
 
 glade ;
 
 70 SONGS- OF STUDY. 
 
 For though it was broad a spear-cast and mirrored a 
 
 space of blue, 
 The tree-tops caught, and let fall, and caught the 
 
 streams of sun pouring through ; 
 And soothed was the scene with silence, and notes of 
 
 birds far away. 
 And murmur of leaves, and the constant cadence of 
 
 cascade spray. 
 
 And behold, there came through the thicket Diana, 
 
 beautiful browed ; 
 On her forehead a silver crescent that shone through a 
 
 golden cloud. 
 And behind came her trooping sisters, unarming apace 
 
 with glee. 
 And flinging buskin and girdle to rock and sheltering 
 
 tree; 
 And fillets were loosed, and broadly were banner-like 
 
 locks let fly ; 
 And the dell was sown with snowflakes of swan-white 
 
 shoulder and thigh. 
 
 Here a maiden, gliding downward, stopped breath- 
 less, as she set 
 
 Her small warm foot, an alighting bird, in the ferns 
 forever wet. 
 
 And here, dishevelled, half covered in grasses, with 
 timidest glance,
 
 ACTAEON. 71 
 
 Sat one, as fearful to have unrinded so much hid 
 
 sweetness at once. 
 And here paced another, wondering, the sward feeling 
 
 strange to her palm. 
 And strange on her shrinking tenderness the forest's 
 
 breathing of balm. 
 And here another kneels musing, her slender beauty 
 
 all bare. 
 Fingering faintly the branches that mix with her long 
 
 brown hair. 
 A head like a glossy chestnut bends under the chestnut 
 
 frond, 
 While blushes like chestnut-blossom a face in the shade 
 
 beyond. 
 And thereby lingers a maiden, her stately shape dis- 
 arrayed, 
 Yet fain of the clothing dimness of scented, leaf-tinted 
 
 shade. 
 And here, disrobed, from the rushes twin laughing 
 
 sisters arise 
 Drawing the vagrant auburn from beaming bosom and 
 
 eyes. 
 And here on her innocent smoothness a maid watched 
 
 shimmer and spin 
 The sun-flecks rained from a breach far aloft where a 
 
 glory of gold broke in. 
 And here, where the slope was coated with close moss 
 
 daintily sleek,
 
 72. SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 A maid reclined on her elbow round, and touched it 
 
 with hip and cheek. 
 And here, on the turf, one flushing at kiss of the deli- 
 
 ■ cate air, 
 Venus-like, rose from her billowing whirlpool of sea- 
 dark hair. 
 And here, advancing together, dance maids like a wall 
 
 of white, 
 Maid girded with arms of maidens, and dark locks 
 
 flowing with bright ; 
 Intercaressing delicious slim necks they move in tune, 
 
 and their feet 
 Flutter o'er carpeting flowers, and, lily-like, mingle and 
 
 meet. 
 Here, crouched on the brink, a damsel who peers, but 
 
 suddenly swerves 
 To see in the tide beneath her the white of her soft 
 
 full curves. 
 Here steps down a fair girl smiling, lightly borne as 
 
 with wings, 
 Yet indeed like a panther stretching, and swift as a 
 
 pard that springs. 
 She flies like a cloud of Summer, all nakedly bright 
 
 from the wood, 
 And with round lovely arms high-tossing, Diana first 
 
 cleaves the flood. 
 Through swirling luxurious water, clear-cold, made 
 
 mad with her force,
 
 ACTAEON. 73 
 
 With slight neck nervous, with long side shining, she 
 
 holds her course. 
 And the rings of her plunge are broken, the spray of 
 
 her splash borne back 
 By the milk-white flight of her maidens, who follow 
 
 their mistress' track ; 
 And the pool was gorged in an instant with beauty 
 
 that sprang and swam, 
 And struck through the cisterned freshness with arm, 
 
 and forehead, and ham. 
 
 Here a face, pearl-dashed, rose-radiant, through the 
 
 surge translucent hurls, 
 Towing by strong oar-pulses the silken raft of her curls, 
 Her hands making silvery fire of the water's voluptuous 
 
 crests 
 That laugh at the touch of her shoulders and purr at 
 
 the plunge of her breasts. 
 Here shoots a luminous body far down, skimming 
 
 under the rocks. 
 And followed ever by turning trailing snakes of its 
 
 golden locks. 
 And here sculls gently a maiden, her soft back bent 
 
 for a keel. 
 With but lips and eyes over water, and sometimes a 
 
 ruddering heel. 
 And here lies another, drifting, full-stretched in her 
 
 snowy pride.
 
 74 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Enfolded from ear to ankle — a marble bar — in the 
 
 tide. 
 And here, in the lustrous blackness that mirrors a wall 
 
 of rock, 
 A swimmer eclipses her fulgent form that makes of 
 
 the shade a mock. 
 And sinking in eddies that murmur for pleasure and 
 
 swirl to her throat, 
 A damsel with spread arms paddles, and basks in the 
 
 sunshine afloat. 
 And here, in a cove overshadowed, a soft shape beams 
 
 from the gloom, 
 Censer-like shining, and — flower-like — set amid beds 
 
 that perfume : 
 Lily of lilies, and tender mouth of the rose-bud's red 
 
 and its mould. 
 And eyes of the violet's purple, and locks of the 
 
 asphodel's gold. 
 And beside her the fluttering ripples, deliciously cool, 
 
 caress 
 The polished waists of her sisters who wade to the 
 
 landing-place. 
 And hard by, to a limpid shallow come three, in the 
 
 depth to launch 
 A timid swimmer, their captive by ivory middle and 
 
 haunch. 
 At wrist and at neck she catches. They bear her back 
 
 from the bank ;
 
 ACTAEON. 75 
 
 She struggles — their laughter echoes — those mis- 
 chievous maidens dank. 
 
 Their arms interlace. Their whiteness is massed like 
 a lily-brood. 
 
 They rear them, and fling them together with glee in 
 the blissful flood ; 
 
 And while yet the bubbles are bursting, each body and 
 roguish face, 
 
 Rosed as with recent kisses, comes up from the river's 
 embrace. 
 
 Now the hero, young Actaeon, heard the washing 
 
 water lap 
 Round the knees and necks of maidens, and on dainty 
 
 flank and pap, 
 And glad girlish voices mingling with the babble of 
 
 the stream, 
 Yet was he but half delighted, knowing all was but a 
 
 dream. 
 With the effort of a lifetime crammed into a moment's 
 
 throes 
 He achieved his fate through torments, and — -almost 
 
 a god — arose 
 Flinging off the chains of slumber; nor had longer 
 
 doubt or care, 
 Diana's pure suave contour, the young sunshine of her 
 
 hair 
 Knowing : — even as a god knows the sweet pout of 
 
 Hebe's mouth
 
 T^ SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 When she brings the brimming vintage of no earthly 
 
 vineyard's growth 
 For the gods to quaff together; — and his joy had 
 
 naught of fear, 
 Breathing the Gargaphian breezes Hke a bridegroom's 
 
 atmosphere ; 
 But for lyres, and friendly voices, and warm scents of 
 
 orchard bloom, 
 On Actaeon shone the everlasting glory of his doom. 
 
 Earth's terrible high mane of the mountain naked- 
 nesses. 
 The pastoral green plots in the piny glens' recesses, 
 The verdurous descent of the olive-girdled hills. 
 The generous air, the salving light, the voluble sweet 
 
 rills, 
 The sunshine frank and flowing, the heaven overbowed 
 With unnumbered reefs and islands of tender-coloured 
 
 cloud, 
 The cheerful fields, the bugling winds, the azure- 
 gleaming bays, 
 The cordial of clear manhood, the joy of youthful 
 
 days. 
 The temple-crested headlands that rise along the 
 
 shore, — 
 Their lover, young Actaeon, left them all for evermore. 
 For better than youthful manhood, and better than 
 kingly SAvay,
 
 ACTAEON. yy 
 
 And sweeter than happy wedlock, and dearer than 
 
 shining Day, 
 Was to see the Queen Diana with his soul-filled maiden 
 
 eyes. 
 And set for her sake his life at stake, and yield it a 
 
 sacrifice. 
 That through all the unending ages the nations of 
 
 men might know 
 How above ground a man was found to honour 
 
 Diana so. 
 
 Thus to the thoughts of the hero disrobed was the 
 
 virgin queen 
 As the moon disrobes to a glorified lake, dispelling 
 
 the clouds between. 
 And the starlike mortal maidens inum'd in the cool 
 
 recess 
 Were too heavenly pure to blush himthought, or to 
 
 know unbecomingness. 
 So the broad Actaeon thrust him through the thicket's 
 
 emerald air. 
 And far through the ferns and frondage a tangled 
 
 creek found there, 
 Where the oaks towered more majestic, the scents 
 
 hung sweetlier sweet. 
 The grass throve thicker and thicker, as feeling 
 
 Diana's feet. 
 Anemone, crocus, and pansy, in fragrant alleys untrod.
 
 78 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Bloomed ever lusher and lusher, as paving the path 
 of a god ; 
 
 And hyacinth tufts in the covers made all the under- 
 growth blue 
 
 As the eyes of the streamlet peeping its Naiad-kept 
 lilies through. 
 
 And madness shone ever diviner in the hunter's ex- 
 pectant gaze, 
 
 And the air seemed rain-cooled about him, so fresh 
 were the forest ways 
 
 With youngest dew-diamonded herbage, and delicate- 
 burgeoning branches, 
 
 And deepening river-straits opening up to the water- 
 fall's glances. 
 
 Suddenly brightened the water : the flowers of the 
 brim flushed rosier. 
 
 Suddenly looked Actaeon right into the sacred en- 
 closure. 
 
 Suddenly saw he a hundred tapering female shapes 
 lily pale, 
 
 Pureness of air and water and soul for their only veil. 
 
 And, fearless of male eyes gazing, Diana through 
 irised air 
 
 Showered the clinging crystal from free-tossing limbs 
 and hair. 
 
 The wave running over her insteps argent, Latona's 
 heaven-eyed daughter
 
 ACTAEON. 79 
 
 Viewed her unrivalled whiteness beneath in the 
 
 wavering water ; 
 More regally high from the shoulder transparent than 
 
 all her following vestals, 
 Statelily purest in virgin beauty, the noblest of the 
 
 celestials ; 
 Musing as muse the immortals upon their unutterable 
 
 grace, 
 Her veined high brow bending forward, a brooding 
 
 light in her face. 
 Watching the cooing waters that brightened and 
 
 beamed as they passed her, 
 Glassing the nude refulgence of delectable alabaster. 
 
 So the hunter, young Actaeon, stood rapt for a 
 
 little space 
 On the edge of the dell, and panted, his marvelling 
 
 soul in his face ; 
 While upon his temples noble did laurel and cypress 
 
 meet; 
 Nor could he speak, nor retire, nor totter to fall at 
 
 Phoebe's feet. 
 And lo, as the gods thus held him, there flashed a 
 
 sudden storm 
 
 Of dazzling splendour and fearful, from Diana's dilated 
 
 form, 
 Serene in high indignation, superb in haughtiest scorn,
 
 8o SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Terrible in its beauty of deadliness heaven-born ; 
 That the constellations of maidens shrank scared in 
 
 the pools and nooks, 
 Nor dared encircle the awfulness of their incensed 
 
 mistress' looks. 
 The small round neck lifting direly the exquisite 
 
 menacing head, 
 The curving nostril, the steel-blue eyeball striking the 
 
 gazer dead ; 
 Rejecting his true, pure homage — though even her 
 
 scorn was sweet ; — 
 Smiting his life into darkness, and driving his dust 
 
 from her feet. 
 Purity's anger, not pitying, even as python-slaying, 
 Bent the clear bow against innocence, fitting the arrow 
 
 unstaying. 
 But Jove, the wielder of thunder, who smites for the 
 
 righteous' sake, 
 Hid the young breath-despoiled hunter, and placed 
 
 instead in the brake. 
 To appease the goddess, a roebuck, that bloodied the 
 
 trampled ground, 
 Shot with Olympian arrows, and mangled by fangs of 
 
 the hound.
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN IDYLL. 
 
 " In youth when I did love, did love, 
 O methought it was very sweet. 
 
 O a pit of clay for to be made 
 For such a guest is meet." 
 
 Haitilet. 
 
 " What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?" 
 
 "A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love." 
 
 A Midsumjfier Night's Dream. 
 
 High up in Aughal, higher up than all 
 Smooth plots of culture in the straitening glens, 
 Up higher than the sunburnt cotter seeks 
 His coupled goats at eve, or herdsman comes 
 After strayed sheep, there is a barren tract 
 Peered down upon by Aughal's vast broad head : 
 A dreary, dreary hollow, in its midst 
 The lifeless oozing from a black wild lake 
 Plunged in a crevice of the mountain side ; 
 The coarse grass flutters by the pale marsh moss, 
 The stunted heather starves between the stones, 
 
 G
 
 82 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And o'er it sails the eagle and the cloud. 
 Haply at dawn a fox may pause to lap, 
 Sated from prey, and howl and get him gone ; 
 Leaving the place its utter loneliness 
 Of waste, and misty peaks, and pinewood strips, 
 And moory knolls that part and show the sea. 
 
 Up to this desolation slowly came, 
 Amid the stillness of the August noon, 
 Ail Mavrish, wandering like an outcast soul. 
 His eyes had lost their light, his weary hands 
 Were void of rod and bow ; and listlessly 
 He cast him on a cape of the lone tarn 
 And watched the gleaming water trickle down 
 The dark hill opposite, and heard the lake 
 Plash at its rocky isles and o'er the sand 
 Roll baby waves, and saw the water-weeds 
 Float, spreading loose and long. And so he mused 
 A space, and then up-gathering his limbs 
 He put his bonnet off, so that the breeze 
 Blew his high brow and ruffled the bronze locks 
 That ran in curls over his head like fern ; 
 Then leaning back, he turned his earnest face 
 Up to the heaven, while his full-red mouth 
 Spake sadly on this wise : 
 
 " O fair Lord Christ ! 
 Who sittest with soft lengths of golden hair
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 8^ 
 
 Fallen round Thy face and on Thy shoulders curled 
 In Thine high bower of empyreal air — 
 
 King majestic of the orbed world, 
 
 Whose crown and countenance are lambent light ! 
 Be merciful, my Master, to my woe. 
 Let me a little while lament, that so 
 
 1 may not faint. O Master, from Thine height 
 Unto me deign, and make my spirit strong 
 
 To speak to Thee of sorrow in the pause 
 Of mighty music of seraphic song ; 
 Nor let my foes destroy me with Thy laws. 
 Lord, as the leading angel bows his face, 
 And covers with his wings his pious brows. 
 Look from the glorious tumult of Thy house 
 Down to me lonely in this desert place. 
 
 " Ah ! holiest Lord, I am not in Thine eyes 
 Ail Mavrish, called of village maids most fair. 
 What boots to Thee a visage's device, 
 Or amber curls of much abounding hair ? 
 From the pure souls in Thy thrice-holy hall, 
 
 Lord, look not on my unrighteousness, 
 
 1 am no better than the common press. 
 Deserving at Thy hand no good at all 
 
 But rather stripes because we so transgress. 
 O, mark not, Lord, what evil I have done, 
 But pity me. Thou knewest of my heart, 
 How it was turned (as ever to the sun
 
 84 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Turn the young flowers and the tender grass) 
 
 Wholly to Adiaber Lisnaglass, 
 
 From all things else aside and well apart : 
 
 Master, thou knowest how without demur 
 
 My soul went forth of me to follow her, 
 
 So fair she was — ah ! Jesus Lord, so fair. 
 
 Thou knowest from Thy youth in Galilee 
 
 The mother-maid was not more fair than she. 
 
 Or those good saints that made Thy need their care. 
 
 So Ijeautiful, my God, how beautiful 
 
 She was — and now a piece of rubbish d'ulL 
 
 " Thou knowest how her glamour on me came. 
 'Twas near the lowland harvest, and like flame 
 Pulsed the live air, and shone as silver doth. 
 Yet fell there one grey morning, as in sooth 
 It were October ; saving that the trees 
 Were heavy with deep green, and blackbird's pipe 
 Rang mellow through them, and the tawny leas 
 Were everywhere unto the harvest ripe. 
 O Master, hearken ; I was in the wood 
 Over the village. From the multitude 
 Of leafy lives my being drank much calm, 
 And I grew. Lord, as I but seldom am. 
 Devout and thankful. I was in Thine house, 
 Even in Thy presence. Ever through the boughs 
 Ran there a holy shudder to and fro ; 
 And then uprose, with solemn swell and slow,
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 85 
 
 Over the brook's continual melody 
 
 The forest's hallelujah unto Thee, 
 
 — O merciful my Lord, Thou knowest that I 
 
 Am but Ail Mavrish, unto things devout 
 
 Given but little, and much grace without, * 
 
 For Thou therein hast fashioned me awry ; 
 
 But then with perfect heart I worshipped Thee, 
 
 And lo, Thine angel in the wood with me ! 
 
 " Broke, steep and sheer, the pageant of the vale 
 Down through the foliage. Afar off shone 
 The broken streak of the white waterfall, 
 A tremulous foaming staircase. Thereupon 
 I heard soft laughter and a chirping voice 
 Behind the drooping branches of a beech- 
 So, looking forth after the pleasant noise 
 That tranced mine ears with what celestial speech, 
 I saw a tiny foot and outspread gown, 
 — There sat she in a sloping mead new-mown 
 Between her sisters, binding fresh-culled flowers 
 Wherewith her fragrant lap was overstrewn. 
 And as she wrought, she spake; and charmed the 
 
 place. 
 — O God most high, the favour of her face 
 Thou knowest, being wise. Thou madest it, 
 So wherefore should I, with my crazy wit 
 Praising amiss Thy sweet work, only mar. 
 There is no summer noon or evening star
 
 86 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Whose faultless beauty could compare with hers : 
 The fairest thing in all Thy universe 
 She was, — the very fairest, and now. Lord, 
 She moulders, covered by the churchyard sward. 
 
 « 
 
 " O God, O God, sustain me but an hour, 
 Then let me die when I have told Thee all : 
 The sun declines along the mountain wall, 
 Gilding this pool that I shall make my grave. 
 I have not left the strength to go afar 
 And seek Thy face through the red gate of war, 
 Or where the ship dies in the breaking wave. 
 The streams of Aughal shall my pale form lave. 
 Wrapt in cool mosses ; and the mountain wind 
 Shall moan above me, crisping this lone pool. 
 So shall I cease, and naught be left behind 
 To tell the gossips how I played the fool 
 For a girl's love — I, darling of the glens — 
 Lost quite. My heirdom shall another have 
 And my possessions all be other men's ! 
 But Thou, O Lord, be merciful, and save 
 My soul more pain. Thou know'st my heart must 
 
 break, 
 I am so wholly wounded for her sake. 
 O bear me up, good Lord, that I may say 
 What I have never said until this day : 
 My love of Adiaber Lisnaglass. 
 So shall my soul be eased a little, and pass ;
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 8/ 
 
 And Thou, good Lord, have pity of Thy grace 
 Upon mine anguish and mine evil case ! 
 
 " O hearken, Lord. Thou sawest how I stood 
 There wondering on the margin of the wood. 
 While she with her fair sisters laughed and spoke, 
 Fingering the flowers. Presently there broke 
 A twig I leaned on, and her lustrous eyes 
 Leaped on me, and she flushed ; but I, flame-red, 
 Dizzy with pleasure and with shamed surprise, 
 Tottered forth to the maidens and there said 
 Lamest excuses — truth and lies, God wot 
 That eaves-dropping or spying I was not — 
 Unhinged prate, in sooth I know not what. 
 For little Florise held by Einan's waist 
 And so severely eyed my floundering haste 
 With such serene blue orbs, that, faith ! I stopped, 
 A tingling fool. Then gentle Adiaber 
 (With female grace that was at highest in her) 
 In pity of my pain said, ' O fair youth, 
 For thine approach our thanks are due in sooth : 
 Rousing our truant thoughts thus civilly 
 Out of this pleasant nest where we have dropped. 
 We might have stayed here ever as you see. 
 Plaiting sweet garlands, feasting on the view 
 Of this thrice lovely valley, but for you. 
 Now, sent by Heaven, to our aid you come 
 To break our chains and point the pathway home.'
 
 88 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " What gracious words ! I saw her Hps and locks, 
 And smile so wondrous that I almost reeled 
 And fell before it in that happy field : 
 (O heart, be still ; I sit on lichened rocks 
 Up here in Aughal, praying ere I die). 
 I offered rest and entertainment meet 
 For gentle strangers (never three so sweet 
 Came to our vale) in any cot hard by ; 
 For heir, I said, of these long glens was I. 
 ' Nay,' said sweet Adiaber, ' good youth, nay ; 
 Thanks for thy courtesy ! but we must not stay. 
 Direct us, prithee I ' But so sweet she made 
 Even refusal, that I still essayed — 
 Till Einan joined against me, saying * Nay ' 
 With her grave dignity, so I gave way. 
 
 " I brought them through the woods and coppices, 
 Tipsied with Adiaber's graciousness. 
 Einan put off her stately elder mien. 
 And condescended like a gentle queen 
 To her beloved sister's playful mood ; 
 And in a shady sylvan solitude. 
 Where dusky boughs the winding pathway spanned, 
 Florise crept up to me and took my hand. 
 But O ! sweet Adiaber, brightly tressed 
 
 With richest auburn curls Thou knowest best, 
 
 O Lord, /ler beauty, and the matchless form 
 That now is eaten of the writhing worm.
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 89 
 
 " O God, sustain a while my bursting heart ! 
 Thou knowest, when at last we came to part, 
 How courteously spake Einan, and how shyly 
 Looked up young Florise, — like a woodland lily 
 Nodding alone in early summer-time 
 In the green shadow of a spreading lime. 
 But Adiaber simply said, ' Farewell,' 
 And thanked me smilingly ; so dared I tell 
 My thought, and asked a posy of her flowers. 
 Thereat she blushed, and gave me from her stores 
 This woodland posy, edged about with fern. 
 Lo now, poor faded leaf and shrivelled stem. 
 Yet presently I shall die kissing them. 
 
 " O Master, pity me beside this tarn ! 
 —I watched the three departing hand in hand ; 
 Einan with rounded limb and sweUing bust 
 And pale proud face that might the world command. 
 — Shapen and poised so queenly is her head 
 With its well-ordered load of raven hair, 
 That, were my sorrow known, it would be said 
 Einan's clear beauty is beyond compare. 
 O God, Thou knowest what is now but dust ! 
 How marvellously graceful was her step ! 
 The strait sloped shoulders, and the neck and bust ; 
 Lips, eyes, and hair. Thou fashionedst them forth — 
 Yea, all the treasures of her slender shape. — 
 There is no match for them in all the earth.
 
 90 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " O Master, Thou art good, but men are vile; 
 What evil thing should bar me from her smile 
 Whereof my hourly dream was, night and day ? 
 I hoped to take the ancient feuds away, 
 And make all smooth with amity and goodwill, 
 In time, when I should rule the rugged glens 
 That run through Aughal's fastnesses immense 
 Wherever any land is habitable ; 
 But then, because the feud ran rancorous 
 Between the house of Lisnaglass and us, 
 I held my peace and wrought my way alone. 
 
 " Thou knowest, Lord, what love this simple folk 
 Of dwellers in the glen all bear to me. 
 There is not any of them has made moan 
 Of country hardships, roof or fences broke 
 By flood or weather, unto whom I spoke 
 Not lovingly, or turned from wantonly. 
 They say that I am beauteous as of old 
 The heathen gods, of so divine a mould 
 Hast Thou made me for grace and strength and 
 
 speed, 
 And so I am beloved ; but indeed 
 It is not so, but for I gently speak 
 And love to kiss a curly child's red cheek. 
 Nor do men wrong, nor use my place amiss : 
 It is for this they love me — but for this. 
 Good Lord, and for no other thing it is.
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 9 1 
 
 And so, I said, my deeds and praise should soothe 
 
 All the old sores ; and yet in mine own youth 
 
 I should see peace in all the country-side, 
 
 And woo sweet Adiaber to my bride, 
 
 And live in love with her and rule the srlen. 
 
 t)' 
 
 "Alas ! how evil are the hearts of men ! 
 We came together, Lord, on the same day 
 To the same church, to kneel to Thee, and pray 
 ' Our Father,' and to drink Thy sacred cup : 
 And yet our hearts were guileful, boiling up 
 With legendary hatred and deep wrath 
 Towards one another — save my heart and hers ; 
 Thou knowest mine and gentle Adiaber's ! 
 
 " The harvest went and came, and aftermath ; 
 And shearing time and harvest came again. 
 And ever as the moon would wax or wane, 
 Or leaves came forth upon the sprays, or fell — 
 Her beauty grew almost intolerable 
 In splendour ; and my love such joyaunce had 
 And growth, methought sometimes I was gone mad. 
 So glad my heart was, O fair Lord, so glad. 
 
 " Not as the hypocrites do I make sad 
 My visage, or quote saws in doleful chant. 
 Lenten behaviour is not much my wont, 
 Thou knowest, Lord, for I am wild and rude
 
 92 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 In Thy pure sight, and have no whit of good. 
 
 So often, when the priest is mumbling prayer, 
 
 My eyes and thoughts go roaming otherwhere 
 
 Than they should do ; but ever as I look 
 
 Einan's clear face is bent upon her book, 
 
 As rigidly as it were carven stone. 
 
 But Adiaber's, God wot, like mine own 
 
 Heeds not the handled matter overmuch. 
 
 — Was not her loveliness a righteous thing. 
 
 And virtue in her cheek's pure blossoming ? 
 
 Yea, her sweet beauty better than much alms, 
 
 And sleepy rounds of prayers, and midnight psalms 
 
 Made by ill-favoured saints and hermits gaunt, 
 
 In places that grim spirits would love to haunt ? 
 
 Ah ! Lord, consider well how hard it were 
 
 To fix that angel head with glossiest hair 
 
 And eyes where played like sunshine in a stream 
 
 Quick thoughts as bright and vivid as a dream — 
 
 To fix them poring on a blotted page 
 
 Until the dazzled sight should blur and smutch : 
 
 Albeit Einan in her hermitage 
 
 Of staid calm thought could pray even as a nun. 
 
 " O good Lord, hearken till my tale be done ; 
 When have I vexed Thee with my prayers before ? 
 Thou knowest when my heart was often sore 
 For her dear sake, I did not weary Thee 
 With fretful plaints of shameless beggary,
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 93 
 
 But sought to work — and not to cross — Thy will. 
 Not even in the glen's high chancel still, 
 The holiest place for prayer that Thou hast given, 
 Shut round by sky and rocky mountain walls 
 And choirs on choirs of pines and waterfalls 
 Betweea the long blue lake and the blue heaven, — 
 Not even there my pain I basely eased, 
 Saying, ' God surely dwelleth here well pleased. 
 And hath too much of joy to frown or spurn 
 If I should beg what He would have me earn.' 
 And all that time Thou knewest all my thought, 
 And often saw mine eyes grow dim and hot 
 Because Thy hand refrained and gave me not. 
 
 " And, Lord, Thou knowest with her I justly dealt, 
 Nor let her dream the fever that I felt. 
 Lest she should pity and suffer all too soon. 
 I would not crave or steal her virgin boon, 
 But bravely bore my pain and held aloof 
 Remember, Master, how I played my part 
 Lest any one should vex us with reproof : 
 Although my very life in her was set, 
 I only sought her with mine eyes and heart. 
 Yet was her smile, whene'er by chance we met, 
 And the enlivening of her beauteous eyes 
 Encountering mine own, a richer prize 
 Than in the spoil of palaces may be won.
 
 94 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " Thou knowest all things, Lord, both greatest and 
 least, 
 And wherefore not that secret secretest 
 That troubleth a young maid's tender breast, 
 Bidding the joyous madcap Sport begone ! 
 I saw the damsel's rich cheek falling pale, 
 And evermore her eyelashes' silk veil 
 Shaded the large orbs of her glorious eyes. 
 What shook that softest bosom with deep sighs, 
 And stayed her bounding step and innocent glance ; 
 And stole the smile of her sweet countenance 
 That gracious was to all, but unto me 
 A keener, clearer sweet than aught but love could be ? 
 
 " Spring grew to May, and May went on to June, 
 With deepening glow of summer sunshine boon. 
 The plague was in the cities, and at eve 
 The mufifled bells rang weirdly through the glens, 
 Calling to pray against the pestilence ; 
 And the great kirk's arched aisles could scarce receive 
 The throngs of worshippers from dale and down, 
 And frightened fliers from the stricken town. 
 Here prayed we purely for the smitten land : 
 Though no rank breath of sickness could withstand 
 The roaring winds of Aughal's rocky gorges ; 
 Yet, natheless, we knelt us in the churches 
 And prayed against the plague. 
 
 O that last night !
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 95 
 
 God, be it remembered in Thy sight 
 When we rise up before Thee in Thy Day, 
 
 1 from this lake, she from the churchyard clay ; 
 And that red sun which Aughal thrusts before 
 Shall faint and die and shall be found no more ; 
 Then to our suppliant souls Thy mercy show 
 And stand the blessed cross 'twixt us and woe. 
 
 " The church was black throughout with kneeling 
 
 folk. 
 Scarce room where one might drop a sparrow broke 
 The dense, dark throng. The lights were burning 
 
 low 
 
 Round the vast image of the Crucified, 
 Yet flared sometimes and wavered to and fro 
 As the breeze freshened off the mountain side. 
 And then uprose with solemn swell and slow, 
 Like the hoarse moaning of the midnight sea. 
 The penitential wailing litany 
 Echoing far away along the glen : 
 A lamentation breaking out again 
 And yet again, that made the breath grow scant 
 For awe, there in the summer twilight pure. 
 And as the priests intoned the holy chant 
 To Thee whose mercy ever shall endure. 
 Grandly broke in like thunder now and then 
 The pause when all the people said 'Amen.'
 
 96 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " And she was there — 
 
 Thou savvest, O Lord God, 
 The fair flesh Thou hast bruised with Thy rod, 
 Cast down before Thee in its costly dress, 
 Mourning its small share of unrighteousness : 
 The white neck bowed until the last sleek tress 
 Fell off it, and the small hands tightly clasped ; 
 And where the perfect face was pressed with tears, 
 Thou heardest, Lord, how brokenly was gasped 
 With sobs, her plaint — O good Lord \ — Adiaber's. 
 
 "Thou knowest, indeed, what business took me 
 then 
 Away from Aughal, and from her away,. 
 And from the quiet of our long still glen 
 To be beyond the hills for many a day. — 
 Ah ! not so many, Lord ; for then 'twas June, 
 And lo, there is the golden August moon 
 That shall not. blanch before I be at rest 
 Within this polished brooch of Aughal's breast. — 
 And while my heart breaks in this mountain cove 
 All envy me a little amid their love 
 For wealth, and late great riches of goodwill 
 Won with such joy in handling of affairs 
 Discreetly — after my poor share of skill ; 
 While the plague failed before the people's prayers. 
 And evermore came news from home that said 
 No sickness lurked in view of Aughal's head.
 
 AIL MAVRISH. 97 
 
 " But lo, I am come back, and there is one 
 Dead of the plague. Yea, Master, one alone — 
 A bloated corse under the churchyard sod : 
 Her wholesome sleek white body spotted o'er 
 With deathful green and livid — O Lord God ! 
 Her fragrant lips only a loathsome sore : 
 Swelled up and foul that was so pure and sweet, 
 That all men speaking of her in the street 
 Are horror-struck, and say Thy ban was hers. — 
 
 gentle Christ ! Thy meek child Adiaber's ! 
 
 " I am so stricken, Lord, that scarce could I 
 Drag my weak body up thus far to die. 
 Telling Thee of my love and of my woe. 
 
 1 cannot bear the beautiful green glen 
 
 With wild streams welling from the rocky spurs 
 That start up here and there amongst the furze 
 Above the cotter's farms. 
 
 What profits me 
 Lewd waste of women's lips unkissworthy, 
 When she — the pearl of womanhood — is low : 
 The maiden moon that lightened all my skies ? 
 Thou, Lord, art gracious and not blind like men ; 
 Judge us with mercy when we shall arise. 
 This chill night wind bites through me like a sword. 
 Pity my soul and Adiaber's, O Lord ! " 
 
 H
 
 LOVERS. 
 
 " Ah ! years may come, and years may bring 
 The truth that is not bliss, 
 But will they bring another thing 
 That can compare with this '! " 
 
 Clouch. 
 
 '' O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers, but that I love thee best, 
 O most best, believe it." — Hatn/et.
 
 In endless procession from Eden, 
 Hand in hand, pair on pair. 
 Sweethearts : maiden and youth. 
 Falsehood, misfortune, tears. 
 Disenchantment, broken hearts.
 
 TO THE IDEAL. 
 
 Ah, may she find amid my verse, 
 
 Above poor personal joy and pain, 
 Something to win a smile of hers 
 
 And entrance at her heart to gain, 
 Some aspiration pure enough 
 To dwell an instant in her love ; 
 Then I sum Life's iron and dross and gall, 
 And I count that instant worth it all.
 
 EASTER EVEN. 
 
 Good night. Across the College quadrangles, 
 
 O'er park, and lawn, and quiet cloisters fair, 
 Where meek-eyed, soft-stepped Meditation dwells, 
 
 Deepens the cool grave twilight everywhere. 
 
 High carven emblem, through the dusky air 
 Seen dimly, fades into the glowing gloom ; 
 
 The rows of windows round about the square, 
 Merge into shadow until morning's bloom. 
 And all is hushed, and still, and lonely as the tomb. 
 
 Good night, good night. As thy beloved eyes, 
 The young great stars look on me at this hour : 
 
 From deepening blue of holy western skies. 
 One after one born into fullest power 
 Of glorious purity. Like a summer shower 
 
 Come thoughts upon me, many, swift, and keen. 
 Like mingled rain and sunshine, sweet and sour ; 
 
 Sweet — being of thyself, my fair child queen. 
 
 Yet sad almost as that sad saw — " It might have been.'"
 
 EASTER EVEN. IO3 
 
 Good night, good night ; my thoughts take wing to thee 
 Out of our town and mountain-circled bay, 
 
 Across rough leagues of hoarse and hoary sea 
 And misty hills and landscapes, far away 
 To thy dear vales that primroses inlay ; 
 
 Night-mantled now, but beautiful as when 
 I watched the moonbeam of the early May 
 
 Creep through them nightly, and the woody glen 
 
 Was wild with nightingales that closed to pipe again. 
 
 Stand close, my soul, within the garden gate, 
 
 Where bows the clambering rose-tree at the door : 
 
 It may be she will sing, while thou dost wait. 
 Some strain of holy sweetness — lingering o'er 
 Notes that thou lovedst well in days of yore, 
 
 An evening hymn, perchance, to thee well known — 
 O soul, how well I how precious evermore ! — 
 
 Perchance thou wilt but catch a word— a tone ; 
 
 Yet O, how rich a prize to thee by chance winds blown. 
 
 My lost first friend, what memories on me throng ! 
 
 The old quaint room comes round me by degrees. 
 And thou art sitting at thine evensong. 
 
 Thy fingers wandering 'mongst harmonious keys, 
 Thy clustering ringlets in sleek broideries 
 Upon thy gracious head : once more I hear 
 
 Thy warbling of smooth-dittied symphonies, 
 While unseen choirs of angels, hovering near, 
 Join faint celestial echoes to thy vespers clear.
 
 I04 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Ah, me ! how often as the dayhght failed 
 
 From Ulster mountain terraces, barren-brown, 
 
 And slowly westward the grey even trailed 
 
 O'er tree and mast and spire and farm and town, 
 Have I — across my books — o'er dale and down 
 
 Gazed at thee — heard thy sweet soft notes arise — 
 Mused on thy dark thick tresses richly strown 
 
 Over young neck and shoulder — met thine eyes 
 
 Filled with such liquid light of mute but glad surprise. 
 
 Or, dearest, as the summer sunset waned' 
 
 On Leinster hills from Howth to far Kippure, — 
 
 Torn Dodder, by the bright sky dyed and veined. 
 Foaming down rocky channels evermore 
 To the blue bay of tawny-sanded shore, — 
 
 While in its vale the distant city lay 
 
 In haze and murmur, and the soft winds bore 
 
 Chimings of bells and scents of clover-hay. 
 
 Oft have I seen thee, sweet, and kissed thee far away. 
 
 Wafted along the dewy, cowslipped lanes, 
 
 Where hang the may's white, scented arches wide. 
 
 And waving honeysuckle's gilded trains, — 
 From pastures cool, where flocks He unespied. 
 The night-air of thy quiet country-side 
 
 Blew freshly on my face, and I could see 
 The hamlet, and the looming church beside. 
 
 And the dear ivied cottage, that for me 
 
 Held treasure passing far all wealth of Araby.
 
 EASTER EVEN. 105 
 
 The rustic English home, with tiles deep-mossed 
 And garden round about hedged from the road, 
 
 And hospitable door by low beam crossed ! 
 Oft have I seen in dreams that fair abode, 
 Oft seen how the wood fire at even glowed 
 
 On tKe brick hearth, and threw its ruddy glare 
 O'er snowy wall and red floor all abroad, 
 
 And lit kind faces gathered smiling there. 
 
 And thine enchanted eyes and massy pure dark hair. 
 
 Good night, good night. Sleep soft, my tender dove. 
 
 Curtained from fear of storm or any jar ; 
 In everlasting guard of seraph love, 
 
 And watched by maiden eyes of moon and star : 
 
 Blessings upon thy rest I breathe afar. 
 Longing to send thee balmy slumber sweet. 
 
 And haply some fair dream — that still we are 
 Frank playmates, amid happy chirp and bleat, 
 Pacing thy meads of joy with blithe unfettered feet.
 
 A REMINISCENCE. 
 
 Kissing wan olive into red rose — 
 
 Black earrings, black eyes, and white white teeth 
 Flashing about like pearls and sloes. 
 
 As you laughed and struggled my lips beneath. — 
 Little slim body so clear and fine, 
 And little weak hands held fast by mine — 
 Little bright face as keen as wine, 
 
 Do you remember ? / shall till death. 
 
 Kissing wan olive into red rose — 
 
 Like April flushing at once to June — 
 
 Kisses commencing on kisses' close, 
 
 And laughter on laughter abounding boon. 
 
 You played me a trick at the garden ferry, 
 
 But paid me a forfeit sweet and merry 
 
 One sunny morning last January — 
 
 Have you forgotten, my dear, so soon ?
 
 A REJOINDER {Recast). 
 
 You have made the wan oHve redder than ever, 
 
 With rhymes that remember a lawless kiss, 
 By the moss-grown garden and sparkling river, 
 
 One morning a twelvemonth divides from this ; 
 Clear little compliment, neat and fine, 
 And little blithe verses, made to be mine, 
 Little bright lines that blush like wine — 
 
 How have you fashioned them, dear old quiz ? 
 
 You have made the wan olive redder than ever 
 It flushed to the pressure of kisses in fun. 
 
 The second atones for the first endeavour, 
 Though blushes be deep in the morning sun. 
 
 I played you a trick by the garden ferry, 
 
 And have paid you forfeitures sweet and merry, 
 
 In frosty sunshines of January. — 
 
 I shall not forget them, — and now — Have done.
 
 SKETCH. 
 
 The rose-branch bowed at the window ; 
 
 The sun came streaming through 
 On the stars and squares of the pavement, 
 
 Orange, and crimson, and blue ; 
 Flashing white on the helmed Pallas 
 
 Of massy marble and rare, 
 And firing with golden the chestnut 
 
 Of Agatha's waving hair. 
 
 The breeze of the summer morning 
 
 Swept in from the lawn and lake, 
 To kiss her on lips and forehead, 
 
 And bright eyes newly awake ; 
 And to fondle her shapely shoulder. 
 
 And girdle her slender waist, 
 And to hover round earring and ringlet, 
 
 And the flowers she wore on her breast.
 
 SKETCH. 109 
 
 Her schoolfellow's far-sent missive 
 
 Held captive her thoughts awhile ; 
 She sped through the close crossed writing 
 
 With a wondering slow half-smile, 
 ^As she stood by the broad hall-table, 
 
 Nor dreamed of her girlish grace ; 
 Her whole heart lost in her letter, 
 
 As mine was lost on her face.
 
 GODSEND. 
 
 She rose from her couch at dead of night, 
 In her sleeping garment loose and white ; 
 The hasp of the window she undid, 
 The sash on its hinges inward slid, 
 And the chill wind entered her bower unhid. 
 
 Her hair, as dark as the wetted earth. 
 Fell streaming dawn to her snowy girth ; 
 
 Forth she leaned, and her slippered foot 
 
 On the dewy slab of the sill she put ; 
 
 And she clasped her hands and rested mute. 
 
 Up to the stars a space she gazed, 
 Her pure bright soul with her eyes upraised. 
 Out of my body my soul arose 
 To the worshipping beauty the fates disclose 
 To my worshipping eyes, — and the sky's repose.
 
 GODSEND. I I I 
 
 Behind her the chamber, closed and black ; 
 
 The river beneath, and the winding track 
 
 In the laurelled cliff where I held my breath : 
 About me the branches were still as death, 
 And the glen as a stone that mouldereth. 
 
 I stood in a trance on the garden moss 
 Till she closed the sash with the sign of the cross. 
 I signed the cross in the starlight bright. 
 For methought I had seen the holiest sight, 
 Since the Bethlehem angels carolled at night. 
 
 S
 
 A MAY CAROL. 
 
 I SHALL see her to-day, 
 
 No wonder the skies are blue, — 
 No wonder the world in its best array 
 
 Flaunts as fashioned anew : 
 No wonder the world is at play, at play. 
 
 In green and purple and gold, 
 For I shall see her to-day, to-day, 
 
 Who is all my joy to behold. 
 
 I shall see her to-day, 
 
 I woke with the joyful words, 
 And the blue sky laughed upon where I lay. 
 
 With the twitter of leaves and birds, 
 And the soft winds brought me the scents of May, 
 
 And the sun sent goldenest light 
 To say, I shall see her to-day, to-day, 
 
 Who had filled my dreams all night !
 
 A MAY CAROL. II3 
 
 The village will hold its festival, 
 
 And the joy-bells joyously chime, 
 My darling is coming, my all, my all, 
 
 The joy of the joyful time ; 
 And the children will dance and the flags will fly, 
 
 And all hearts with the music stir, 
 But the birds and the winds and the flowers and I 
 
 Will have all our joys in her. 
 
 The earliest roses peep, 
 
 For they know she will surely come. 
 And the lilac thicket, so sweet and deep. 
 
 Puffs down to her fume on fume ; 
 And the bluebells and lilies will all look up 
 
 As she comes by the greenwood way, 
 Where primrose and violet linger in hope 
 
 To see her, — to see her to-day. 
 
 I shall see her to-day, 
 
 I dream of her night by night. 
 No wonder my blood makes holiday, 
 
 And goes half mad with delight, — 
 No wonder the sunshine fills the air, 
 
 And the whole wide world is gay, 
 For my love, my love, O ! so fair, so fair, 
 
 I shall see her to-day !
 
 DATE LILIA. 
 
 How purely lovely ! — Ah, give me lilies, 
 
 Loveliest bells that the May shower wets. 
 Roses are lovely, but lovelier still is 
 
 The lily half-hid among violets. 
 Forehead and ear and cheek are of lilies ; 
 
 Branch-dark her hair that the oval sets 
 Of her face — my world where not anything ill is ; 
 
 Her eyes are a'pair of violets. 
 
 Lilies ! violets ! violets ! lilies ! 
 
 Blue interlilied pure violets. 
 Dawn-bedewed in the dearest valleys 
 
 Whose hollows the tarnishing sun forgets ; — 
 My love is a lily of legioned lilies. 
 
 Breathing the freshness of violets.
 
 RECORDEMUR. 
 
 O CHAIR, that held her gracious shape 
 For one short hour of happy rest, 
 Remember how thou hast been blest, 
 
 Nor from thy hard heart let escape 
 
 How sisters came this afternoon 
 
 When all the city swam with heat — 
 Their maiden eyes and slender feet 
 
 In the great desert wearied soon. 
 
 Yea, She came to my reading-room, 
 This bower of my dear-dreamed sleep 
 With open windows buried deep 
 
 In ivy and laburnum-bloorn ; 
 
 This garden-gazing bed-chamber, 
 The fortress of my childish joys, 
 Now strewn with books, instead of toys. 
 
 And verses made from thoughts of her ;
 
 Il6 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And maps that show the mountain path 
 And stream where I am used to rove 
 Moulding sweet ditties of my love 
 
 In praise of beauties that she hath. 
 
 But now — my solitude, that swarmed 
 With hopes and sweet remembrances, 
 By all her living loveliness 
 
 And presence angel-pure was charmed : 
 
 For through my matted ivy-boughs 
 The summer fever cannot strike, 
 Although the streets be oven-like, 
 
 And stifling our deserted house — 
 
 Whence all my kin some hours ago 
 Took flight unto the breezy sea ; 
 But, till my love be there, for me 
 
 No joy is there, I said ; and lo ! 
 
 There comes a rustle on the stair, — 
 A girlish step — a timid knock ; 
 But e'er my fingers touched the lock 
 
 My heart cried out that she was there, 
 
 And opening quickly, dizzy-glad, 
 I met her splendid stately smile, 
 Begging to rest a little while 
 
 And taste well-water in the shade.
 
 RECORDEMUR. 11/ 
 
 And so I stood and ministered — 
 Here in the window where she sat — 
 And talked with her of this and that, 
 
 While the light wind her ringlet stirred. 
 
 And so amid my tumbled books 
 
 And graceless shelves her beauty dwelt, 
 And shining through my life I felt 
 
 The sacred luxury of her looks. 
 
 And here she laid her hat and gloves. 
 And there she leaned her parasol ; — 
 'Tis meet that I remember all, 
 
 For now this chamber is my love's — 
 
 Who sat in gentle stateliness. 
 
 Framed in the window's green and brown, 
 And watched her sister up and down 
 
 Forage at will, and at my glass 
 
 New clasp the band on her shining hair. 
 
 Then I suddenly thought my dream to tell-; 
 
 But my heart beat like an alarum bell, 
 And as I looked I did not dare — 
 
 She was so wholly beautiful, 
 In girlish glory queenly sweet, 
 With sister frankness so complete — 
 
 Here chatting with me in the cool :
 
 Il8 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Her soft bright ringlets loose and long, 
 Her eyes reviving like twin flowers 
 That taste the gelid April showers, 
 
 Her laughter like a linnet's song. 
 
 Behold, a wonder without end — 
 The worshipper before the shrine 
 And she who was for him divine 
 
 Prattling together, friend with friend ! 
 
 Yea, surely. In my chamber calm 
 Her graciousness made me rejoice ; 
 I drank the music of her voice ; 
 
 I talked with her ; — I touched her palm. 
 
 And she is gone. The evening wears, 
 The west o'erflows with golden light. 
 But I shall love her noon and night ; 
 
 And thou, be chiefest of my chairs.
 
 GILLIFLOWER. 
 
 Never a pool by the wayside, 
 
 Never a cloud in the sky ; 
 Whirling down to the seaside 
 
 Through the dust of July. 
 
 Foamy the four bay horses, 
 Jolting the stale old coach. 
 
 Parched were the low grey gorses ; 
 The meads were sunned overmuch. 
 
 A ridge that the heat shone hard on 
 We crossed, and came in view 
 
 Of the shaded house, and the garden 
 That treasures its sweets for you. 
 
 And eyes half-blinded and weary 
 Were turned to the watered green, 
 
 To the murmuring oak-boughs cheery, 
 The lawns with flowers between.
 
 120 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And I said, " I will watch her window 
 
 Set wide to the summer air, 
 And my panting spirit will lean to 
 
 The jasmine that clambers there." 
 
 You sat in the noonday coolness 
 With midsummer fragrance fed : — 
 
 Your musHned bosom's fair fulness, 
 The ribbon that bound your head ; 
 
 Your smooth deep locks, gathered neatly, 
 A fern in their dark silk nook ; 
 
 Your ruby lips parted sweetly. 
 
 Your calm blue eyes on your book. 
 
 You looked from your green-chased bower. 
 Drawing back that I scarce could see ; 
 
 But a hand like a woodbine flower 
 Was waved — with a kiss for me. 
 
 That was all ; for, lo, my pleasure 
 Was gulfed in the high, thick trees : 
 
 But the ocean before spread azure, 
 And I tasted the rich sea-breeze.
 
 PROXIMA— ULTIMA. 
 
 Only to look on her lips 
 
 Is to sink through all depths of despair. 
 Her name, as in prattle it slips — 
 
 A glimpse of her up-gathered hair — 
 Sends all the blood to my heart 
 With the chill of a death-giving start ; 
 
 And a fiend's keen talons of ice, 
 Plunging deep in their malice divine, 
 
 Take hold of my soul like a vice, 
 As I mutter, " She cannot be mine."
 
 A STORM SONG. 
 
 Toss, tight boat, by the foam-covered bar ; 
 
 Dip deep down in the jaws of the brine. 
 Fly, dark rack, across moon and star, 
 
 Fly, and fly past. — My love is mine. 
 Storm-stricken cedars, reel on the height ; 
 
 Hurled back, shudder, and pitch to the wind. 
 Swept by the beam of the moon's pale light. 
 
 Lash, and loom grandly. — My love is kind. 
 
 Burst, O sea, on the sands of the shore ; 
 
 Scream aloud. Fling up your wild arms white. 
 Grovel, and shriek to the strong wind's roar ; 
 
 Peal up your cry through the pitiless night. 
 Blow, vast gale, over field and bay ; 
 
 Over holt and hill whirl the rain and brine. 
 Ruin and wreck till returns the day ; 
 
 Break, and be broken.^My love is mine.
 
 A TRUE LOVER'S DITTY. 
 
 O PLEASANT bevy of bright gay girls 
 
 Who vnth silver laughter and sheeny curls, 
 
 And arch sweet glances, and gracious words. 
 
 Have soothed my journeying hitherto — 
 
 O fair sweet friends, I have done with you ; 
 
 The nightingale sings in the woods alone 
 
 And who taketh note of the other birds : 
 
 The glades being thrilled by her glorious bars 
 
 Piped through the leaves when the round pure moon 
 
 Has arisen, chasing the sparkling stars.
 
 MADONNA. 
 
 A COUNTRY chancel overseas, 
 A gentle girl is kneeling there, 
 Her fair hands clasped in fervent prayer, 
 
 Her dark locks ruffled by the breeze 
 That comes in at the open door 
 With cool fresh scents of mead and shore. 
 
 A clear soul this still sabbath eve 
 Swayed upward unto the high light, 
 Where dwell the hosts of those in white, 
 
 In joy that no man may conceive ; 
 A pure soul pleading there for me, 
 Afar from her beyond the sea. 
 
 A tone that peals amid the swell 
 Of rustic voices mingling praise 
 Of Him who makes the summer days 
 
 Of sweet-breathed hours delectable. 
 At close, an instant's upward glance 
 Meeting the Master's in a trance.
 
 MADONNA. 125 
 
 Bowed in the twilight finally 
 
 The dear saint face, the soft hands prest, 
 
 The violets clustered on her breast 
 Shaken with one last prayer for me ; 
 
 Though I, alack, am wild and rough, 
 
 "And merit little of her love.
 
 LOVE LETTER. 
 
 The evening skies are lightened, 
 
 The thunderclouds are gone ; 
 The air is cooled and brightened 
 
 By shower and by sun ; 
 And in this season clearest 
 
 My cares are shaken off, 
 While writing to my dearest 
 
 A letter, full of love. 
 
 O Sadness, come to-morrow. 
 
 But leave me for to-day ; 
 O drooping, tearful Sorrow, 
 
 Your hour has passed away, 
 And narrow selfish blindness 
 
 For this while be forgot ; 
 Yea, all the world's unkindness 
 
 This hour can touch me not.
 
 LOVE LETTER. 12/ 
 
 But sweetest influences 
 
 Be round me as I write, 
 And bathe my sober senses 
 
 In dreams of deep delight : 
 That — as in golden armour — 
 
 My spirit may be seen 
 To take its way to charm her 
 
 Whom I have crowned my queen. 
 
 O Muse ! whose mouth rehearses 
 
 Upon thy Helicon 
 All honey-sweet love-verses 
 
 That make melodious moan : 
 Verse-gracer ! deign to grace mine 
 
 With lucky chosen words 
 That shall breathe a scent of jasmine, 
 
 And speak like singing-birds. 
 
 Then, thou fair-fashioned letter, 
 
 Fly far, and find my dear ; 
 But, O, be sure to meet her 
 
 When nobody is near — 
 That her sweet lips be hasted 
 
 Kisses on thee to lay : 
 A bliss I have not tasted. 
 
 This many, many a day.
 
 128 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 All ! guide her sweet thoughts thither, 
 
 Where, in fair flowery spots, 
 We bound our lives together 
 
 With blue forget-me-nots ; 
 There tell her that I wander 
 
 In thought, to tryst with her, 
 And see the woodland squander 
 
 Much wealth of wildflower. 
 
 Bright bluebells fill the hollow, 
 
 White stitchwort drapes the slope ; 
 Never was mead more yellow 
 
 With May-bred buttercup 
 Than is one mossy level, 
 
 Deep hid in the green gloom, 
 With the sweetest growth of April : 
 
 The cowslip's golden plume. 
 
 There, where the boughs drooped round her 
 
 To touch her shoulders fine. 
 Remind her how I found her, 
 
 And took her hands in mine, 
 And told her how I loved her, 
 
 Though she had said me nay — 
 Until at last I moved her, 
 
 And chased her frowns away,
 
 LOVE LETTER. I 29 
 
 And took her kiss-closed promise 
 
 To love me evermore — 
 Until the day fail from us, 
 
 Upon Death's lonely shore — 
 Although she blushed thereafter, 
 
 Yet smiled amid her pride ; 
 So tearful — in her laughter. 
 
 And happy — when she sighed. 
 
 In primrose-paven places 
 
 The pleasant blackbird calls, 
 Along the verdured passes 
 
 Through flower-crowded. knolls ; 
 And the soft tide of glad branches 
 
 Sweet-ripples overhead. 
 Where we two have walked \vith fancies 
 
 Too joyful to be said. 
 
 Ah ! there my spirit lingers 
 
 To taste the springtime's charm, 
 To draw her slender fingers 
 
 Lightly along my arm ; 
 And tenderly down-glancing, 
 
 To meet her lifted gaze : 
 Timid, but heart-entrancing 
 
 Beyond a poet's praise. 
 
 K
 
 130 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Yea, letter, thou shalt deem her, 
 
 As I do — blossom-sweet ; 
 Yet, O, pray her remember 
 
 My love, until we meet : 
 Lest she should hate thee, letter. 
 
 Or time have changed her mind 
 To tear my words, and scatter 
 
 Thy fragments to the wind. 
 
 Nay, nay ! she loves me truly, 
 
 Her maiden heart is set ; 
 The vows we plighted duly 
 
 She never can forget ; 
 And she will know my writing. 
 
 And press it to her heart. 
 And read it o'er, delighting, 
 
 Alone and far apart. 
 
 Yes, letter, on thy cover 
 
 My love shall kiss her name, 
 And, thinking of her lover. 
 
 Shall flush with joyful shame ; 
 And I will kiss you, letter. 
 
 Before I let you go : 
 And so my lips will greet her. 
 
 And nobody will know.
 
 LOVE LETTER. 131 
 
 Yea^ all this while I miss her 
 
 With exquisite, sweet pain, 
 Until I shall re-kiss her 
 
 And clasp her shape again, 
 O my verses — be her lover 
 
 And kiss her day by day. 
 And she will repeat you over 
 
 When I am far away.
 
 DEAD LEAVES. 
 
 The flowers you gave me are faded, friend ; 
 
 The flowers you gave me are faded. 
 May-time surely must come to an end, 
 And its garlands wither and ravel and rend ; 
 The richest sunset its gold will spend, 
 
 And heaven and earth be shaded. 
 
 No summer is too soon over, girl ; 
 
 No summer is too soon over : 
 Weary we grow of the mellow merle, 
 And the far-away cloud's unfruitful curl ; 
 The joys of the morn at eve are sterile. 
 
 A lover must be a rover.
 
 DISILLUSION. 
 
 ' Say a day without the ever." 
 
 As Vou Like It. 
 
 Your proud eyes give me their wearied splendour ; 
 
 Your cold loose touch, and your colder smile, 
 The truth to my jealous heart surrender : — 
 
 You tire, having loved me a little while. 
 Ah ! well, my sweet, I was sure you would, 
 
 For I knew you false when I saw you fair. 
 I have watched and watched for your altered mood, 
 
 And have schooled me so that I shall not care. 
 
 The knoll's blue bonnet, the dell's green mantle. 
 
 The mid-wood hollow where waters run. 
 The bare, stained shore, with its white surf-sandal. 
 
 The sudden smile of the gallant sun — 
 Will change not, be you or sweet or bitter : 
 
 A heart after all is hard to break ; 
 But the world at sweetest were surely sweeter 
 
 If only sweet for your own sweet sake.
 
 134 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Yea, I know right well, if our love were sterling 
 
 We had drained the earth and the skies of joy; 
 But I — God wot ! — and you too, my darling, — 
 
 No rare fair flower of girl and boy : 
 How should we rise to such exaltation 
 
 As climbs from a cloud a splendid star ? 
 How live — how love with such perfect passion, 
 
 We — who are only what others are ?
 
 DOLLS. 
 
 A CHILDISH verse of a far-oif May. 
 Basking in beauty the landscape lay : 
 The lingering violets were few, 
 But speedwell speckled the bank with blue ; 
 And clover was blossoming here and there, 
 And scented with lilac was the air ; 
 And cowslips were deep and rich of tint. 
 And the tender meadowsweets white as lint ; 
 And the bee hummed merrily over the mead, 
 And the mavis piped like Apollo's reed. 
 
 From the light bright showers that had passed away 
 Shone all the freshlier earth's array : 
 From topmost tuft to lowliest blade 
 The growths were gladdened and greener made, 
 And leaf and bough, and bud and bush, 
 And twig and blossom and thicket and rush 
 Were tender and fragrant, moist and lush,
 
 136 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 In the warm rich light of the glowing ray. 
 
 Then you ran with your doll through our orchard, 
 May, 
 And I fell to laughing as I were mad ' 
 
 (Such joyaunce then as a child I had) — 
 Laughed aloud in excess of glee, 
 And you fell a-laughing along with me, 
 But low, May, low — as your wont was a)^e, — 
 Merrily, May, but low — low. 
 And I remember, laughing so, 
 I took you, May, by your childish waist 
 In my childish arm, and your sweetness placed 
 On the seat between the beech and the lime ; 
 And we laughed there together a merry time. 
 I was eager to tell you a merry jest 
 And could not for laughter merriest, 
 For laughing, for laughing, O May, May. 
 I put my hand round your little neck, 
 Laughing as though my heart would break ; 
 And your little hand on my shoulder lay, 
 Drawing me closer, May, May, 
 Laughing so neither a word could say. 
 I put my face far into your hair, 
 So crisp and curly, glossy and black 
 (I wish I had never drawn it back) ; 
 I laid my throat on your shoulder fair, 
 Laughing, laughing, O May, May ;
 
 DOLLS. 137 
 
 Laughing I strove to speak in your ear,. 
 While you were laughing, O May, in mine ; 
 Naught of the tale myself could hear ; 
 Naught of it, May, could you divine. 
 
 That garden of youth is black with a curse 
 Which has withered the flower and frozen the 
 
 bird. 
 We are older now ; and we put by the verse 
 With a tear suppressed, and a sneer— How 
 
 absurd !
 
 YEAR'S END. 
 
 The sky is dark and rainy, 
 
 Low-arched with wheeling cloud ; 
 The fields are steeped and fenny, 
 
 The wind is swift and loud ; 
 And barren boughs are shaken. 
 
 And withered leaves are whirled 
 Through night — of stars forsaken, 
 
 The pall of a dead world. 
 
 Now is December dying 
 
 By pale and dreary chills, 
 With weary, weary crying 
 
 Upon the wretched hills. 
 'Tis growing late and later, 
 
 The dawning draweth nigh ; 
 And revellers must scatter, 
 
 And lovers bid good-bye.
 
 year's end. 139 
 
 And we — 'twere well to sever 
 
 Before the daylight break. 
 You know it is for ever, 
 
 This parting that we make. 
 Some time you may regret me 
 
 And wonder if I live, 
 But if you can — forget me, 
 
 And if you can — forgive. 
 
 I found — I leave you — lonely ; 
 
 With fate we may not cope : 
 The march of life is only 
 
 The funeral of Hope. 
 How wise the heart that suffers 
 
 Until the story ends. 
 With a kiss for its light lovers, 
 
 And a smile for its false friends. 
 
 Not warned that faith is roving 
 
 And happy fortune crossed. 
 We on the cards of loving 
 
 Have staked our all — and lost. 
 Henceforth we bear our burden 
 
 With guilty, Cain-like heart, 
 And only this for guerdon — 
 
 To take our ways apart.
 
 HO SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And all this place of bowers 
 
 And alleys vaulted o'er, 
 Once blissful — once called ours — 
 
 We flee for evermore ; 
 The rain may rot and wreck it, 
 
 Though as a dream 'twas fair ; 
 The wind may sweep it naked, 
 
 But we shall never care.
 
 THE LAST TRYSTING. 
 
 * 
 
 O LOVE, thy cheeks are chill and pale 
 
 As on the meads the early mist, 
 Thy tender face and fingers frail 
 
 The bleak air hath unkindly kissed, 
 Thy loose dark tresses gleam with dew 
 Shed over thy sweet shoulders too. 
 
 Love, are we met to say farewell ? 
 
 In this wood's promise-hallowed halls 
 Shall these pure lips prove infidel. 
 
 Forswearing their true faith as false ? 
 Or is the passing weakness o'er ? — 
 Are we true lovers as before ? 
 
 Look up, thine eyes are very fair ; 
 
 Look up, love ; let me read my lot. 
 The warm tears break through hands and hair 
 
 Clasped closely ; — thou rcpliest not. 
 Thou still art mine, these bright tears say. 
 Alas ! thou wavest me away.
 
 142 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Shake hands. We shall not meet again ; 
 
 It is for ever that we part. 
 Good-bye ! No bitter words of pain 
 
 Shall mock what heart would say to heart. 
 But all the saddened heaven will moan 
 For grief to think what thou hast done.
 
 LEAVE-TAKING. 
 
 The paths of our lives are parted here; 
 
 Our feet fare ever asunder now, 
 As breaks the landscape, sharp and sheer. 
 
 Slope from slope, at this breezy brow : 
 With on either side a wood and a stream, 
 And a town far down in the distance dim, 
 With domes that hover, with spires that gleam, 
 
 And swimming vapours that climb and bow. 
 
 Look you, we stand on the open down 
 
 In the empty tent of the open sky ; 
 I can speak with you here between blue and brown, 
 
 To stonechat's twitter and lapwing's cry. 
 Or ever we turn for ever apart 
 I can say my say to you heart to heart ; 
 I shall not shrink and you need not start : 
 
 We are not lovers now — you and I.
 
 144 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 That is agreed since you will it so, 
 
 But we meet here by chance with none beside : 
 Meet as we used to do long ago, 
 
 But shall never again, whate'er betide. 
 For now indeed I am not your lover, 
 Though your face be the fairest mine eyes discover ; 
 Graves are between us, we step not over, 
 
 But turn from each other. The world is wide. 
 
 And one goes eastward, and one goes westward ; 
 
 One into glory that gilds much gloom, 
 And one has no more of worstward or bestward, 
 
 But takes the duties and days as they come. 
 And, parting, we think upon settled faces 
 That sleep in peace, while the sad cloud chases 
 The peeping sun from the dewy daisies 
 
 And rude winds ruffle the salt sea foam. 
 
 O God, O God, that it should be so : 
 
 The hoarse vast grave in the sea-field sterile, 
 
 And the pained wild eyes, and the broken, slow. 
 Changed utterance eased in the fever's peril. 
 
 O, Death brings the noble a noble rest 
 
 In the chill sea's depth and the earth's chill breast ; 
 
 ' Tis the grave in the heart that is gloomiest. 
 Where souls rot, murdered in deadly quarrel.
 
 LEAVE-TAKING. 1 45 
 
 I loved you truly, and palm to palm 
 
 I tell you so, meeting your proud wet eye. 
 See, my tears are done, and my sobs are calm, 
 
 Our lovings are over eternally ; 
 If the dead arise, I shall know, perchance, 
 Your adored pure forehead, your clear sweet glance — 
 And adore as I used, and your soul entrance 
 To love as I loved you. Till then good-bye.
 
 A LATE PASSER. 
 
 " There is one hope too like despair 
 For prudence to smother." 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 Down the stormy stream, 
 
 Down the stream to the sea. 
 Broken — lost like a dream, 
 
 All that was dear to me. 
 Would God my work in the world were done, 
 And I forgotten and dead and gone. 
 
 Plunge of the water beneath 
 
 As of a soul to its doom ; 
 Weary, aweary am I of breath. 
 
 Ah ! for the rest of the tomb. 
 The pine leans over the' raging river, 
 So my heart longs to be still for ever. 
 
 Hangs not the parapet clear 
 
 O'er the darkness that gurgles below ? 
 
 Ah ! to blot out year upon year 
 In the black pool's eddying flow. 
 
 But I would not be false for the ease of the dead, 
 
 What hides the Future that I can dread ?
 
 A LATE PASSER. 147 
 
 Have I any hope — any faith ? 
 
 Have I anything left to lose ? — 
 Have I any trust but in Death, 
 
 Waited for — ah ! God knows ! 
 For Death is as God in mercy and might, 
 And shall not the Judge of the earth do right ? 
 
 Down the stormy stream, 
 
 Out on the infinite sea. 
 Deep sleep after this feverish dream, 
 
 With all that is dear to me. 
 So dying hourly, drag on. Be brave, 
 It cannot be very far to the grave.
 
 PIANO-EASEL. 
 
 ' Not so young as to love a woman for singing." 
 
 Kitig Lear. 
 
 Over the white and over the black, 
 
 Over the ebon and ivory keys, 
 Your fingers dance in a wild bright rack 
 
 Of gleefijlly eddying melodies ; 
 Your laugh rings clear and your curls toss free, 
 But the mirth and the music are not for me. 
 
 And I chafe not, lacking so slight a boon : 
 Having lost all heart in the days gone by 
 
 To a brighter girl and a blither tune, 
 Delight making dizzy both ear and eye \ 
 
 Wherefore let laughter and curls float free, 
 
 Your mirth and your music are not for me.
 
 MAVOURNEEN. 
 
 I THINK she knew I loved her, 
 
 I think she knew it well ; 
 And knew it as a secret 
 
 Too exquisite to tell ; 
 That time I walked beside her 
 
 Beneath the branches boon, 
 In sunshine of the joining 
 
 Of eve and afternoon. 
 
 For there are ways of speaking 
 
 More eloquent than words : 
 Beside us flowed the streamlet, 
 
 Around us piped the birds. 
 We spoke not of betrothal, 
 
 I claimed of her no kiss ; 
 But cold, and sweet, and splendid, 
 
 She knew she gave me bliss.
 
 I50 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 We knew the future doubtful, 
 
 But we knew the present sweet 
 She knew my soul was lying 
 
 In heaven at her feet ; 
 But proud, and pure, and noble, 
 
 Her eyes and forehead said 
 That stately heights of passion 
 
 A stately soul should tread. 
 
 I loved her grace and frankness. 
 
 Her glance's bluebell light ; 
 I loved the daisy petal 
 
 Of her cheek's pure red and white ; 
 I loved her for the beauty 
 
 Of her maidenhood and youth. 
 But most I loved the coldness 
 
 Of her courage and her truth. 
 
 gallant master-moment 
 
 When our eyes — unshrinking — met, 
 And she gave me of the speedwell 
 With her bosom mignonette ! 
 
 1 swear by that she loved me, 
 With a love too great and brave 
 
 To let me sink beneath her. 
 Unworthy passion's slave.
 
 MAVOURNEEN. 15I 
 
 — Ah ! sly coquettish sirens, 
 
 You lose by Cupid's arts ; 
 Lose — in this game of living 
 
 To cheat for broken hearts ; 
 Lose — by your cloyed temptations 
 
 Of traitorous smiles and sighs ; 
 Love is an athlete archer 
 
 With aweless artist eyes. 
 
 Yet each after his fashion 
 
 May think of love and life : 
 The week-day humdrum honey 
 
 Of the husband and the wife, 
 And the raving melodrama 
 
 Of the dagger and the bowl. 
 Enough for me to live and love 
 
 With brain, and heart, and soul !
 
 SONG. 
 
 When fields were green and skies were clear 
 And bluebells paved the woods of Spring, 
 
 I weighed the world against her tear, 
 And found her tear the dearer thing. 
 
 But while I followed gain and fame, 
 And in the great world played my part, 
 
 I changed ; — but she remained the same : 
 And now I think it broke her heart.
 
 NOT AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 In a showery Irish August 
 Of mild bright sun and wind 
 
 They met in the Wicklow valleys — 
 Orlando and Rosalind. 
 
 And glorious was valley and valley, 
 And splendid was height and height ; 
 
 And she was a budding maiden, 
 And he was a woodland knight. 
 
 And the ether was so transparent, 
 And so fresh the azure sheen, 
 
 And the colour so pure and perfect 
 Of bluff and velvet ravine — 
 
 All purple and silver and emerald 
 
 Set deeply in golden mirth. 
 With the clouds overstraying like angels 
 
 Coming down to behold the earth ;
 
 154 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And so priceless the fame of their fathers 
 Received in those crystal hours, 
 
 That the young hearts budded and blossomed 
 And kissed like sister flowers ; 
 
 Not thinking of death or exile 
 
 Or the daily part to play, 
 But only the sweet of the season 
 
 When life makes holiday. 
 
 And Orlando proffered his princess 
 
 The life to her father due, 
 And the chain that was warm from her bosom 
 
 O'er his bended neck she threw. 
 
 For he knelt at her feet victorious 
 And blameless beyond rebuke ; 
 
 And her hand stayed not from rewarding, 
 And her voice as she thanked him shook : 
 
 Till his loyalty chilled and trembled 
 
 At the tender tremulous tone, 
 At the clasp of the clinging fingers, 
 
 And the eyes that hung on his own ; 
 
 At the innocence of her maidhood. 
 
 At the trust of her noble youth, 
 At the generous eighteen Aprils 
 
 That shone in her guileless growth.
 
 NOT AS YOU LIKE IT. 155 
 
 And his glorying died in his pity, 
 And his beautiful pride was marred, 
 
 At the dignified childish richness 
 Giving all itself for reward. 
 
 O, if all himself could have matched it 
 
 And given her worth for worth, 
 He had kissed her there and had grappled 
 
 In wrestle with all the earth. 
 
 But the soul springs not with the shoulder, 
 
 And hands tear never apart 
 The coils of cold chain-cable 
 
 That sink round a buried heart. 
 
 For he thought of his desperate portion, 
 And his home jarred past redress ; 
 
 And he thought as he looked on the maiden 
 Of his own unworthiness : 
 
 And he loved her better, O ! better. 
 Than to spring to her vermeil mouth, 
 
 And quaff the wild torrent of kisses 
 That trembled in flood for his drouth ; 
 
 And he turned from the blue eyes brimming, 
 And the young cheeks burning beneath, 
 
 As a soldier who turns to his duty 
 Albeit the duty be death.
 
 156 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And she kept back her tears' hot gushing, 
 And she held up her princely brow, 
 
 And she took his soul as he gave it 
 In his parting glance and bow. 
 
 And I know not if care or trouble 
 
 Befell in Arden immense, 
 But a tumult of rain and lightning 
 
 Passed over the Wicklow glens.
 
 A ROMANCE REOPENED. 
 
 It had rained on the wharves and chimneys 
 And the air was clean and cool, 
 
 As I walked on the terminus platform 
 In the city of Liverpool ; 
 
 the grace of that sabbath evening, 
 O the charm of my true love's land, 
 
 And the spring of my statured spirit 
 As at touch of my true love's hand. 
 
 And by me the passenger engine 
 
 Slid up, while its giant breath 
 Caught all my soul from my keeping 
 
 In a battle of life and death : 
 
 1 stood in a dream on the planking. 
 
 By a terrible hope dismayed ; 
 
 In a glow of tremendous daring 
 
 That almost made me afraid : 
 
 For I saw, past the passenger engine. 
 Lost angel-fair true-lover smiles ; 
 
 And I muttered, " From here to my heaven 
 Is hardly a hundred miles, —
 
 158 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 "One rush with this greyhound-outrunner, 
 One outbreak of passion long foiled, 
 
 And the years of my grieving are ended 
 And the spoilers of youth are despoiled." 
 
 And two men parted beside me. 
 Shaking hands at the carriage door. 
 
 Saying, " Good-bye, brother, I love her 
 For ever and evermore." 
 
 O my own little ringleted darling ! 
 
 O her eyelashes, heavily wet. 
 As she kissed me, and clung on my shoulder 
 
 That last last time that we met. 
 
 O, I love her ; I perish without her. 
 
 Though I stun me with pleasure and care : 
 
 My mirth and my profit are hollow, 
 The masks of a ghastly despair. 
 
 O delusion of yesterday's pleasure, 
 
 O dulness of yesterday's pain. 
 Behold how I toss you with curses 
 
 To the wheels of the out-springing train. 
 
 Lo, an iron knee on my bosom, 
 
 An iron hand at my throat, 
 And the might of the monster engine 
 
 Flung back to some place remote ;
 
 A ROMANCE REOPENED. 1 59 
 
 And the still small voice of duty, 
 
 More harsh than an engine could, 
 Hissing hard in my ear, " You promised, 
 
 And you know it was right you should : 
 
 " For you draw on her young head curses, 
 
 That smite like a vengeful sword, 
 And you warp her from honour and duty 
 
 And the faith of a plighted word." 
 
 So my soul fell down in its torment 
 
 And weltered and wailed in despair, 
 While the damps of ineffable anguish 
 
 Were clustered and cooled in my hair. 
 
 "O," I cried, "she is pure as the rosebud 
 That showers and summershine swell ; 
 
 Shall I smite her with plague of my passion. 
 Who loves me but too too well .'* 
 
 " I have promised to fly from her presence, 
 And trample my wildness and greed, 
 
 Nor set in her pathway and pillow 
 The thorn of a mutinous deed ; 
 
 " But shall I not see her nor hear her. 
 
 Nor learn if she suffer or thrive ? 
 Not Ah ! God — do I know since long long ago 
 
 Even if she be dead or alive ?
 
 l6o SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 " But one gaze in her eyes' young lustres, 
 
 One story of suffering to tell : 
 And she springs to my side a pitying bride — 
 
 Springs, ah! from heaven to hell. 
 
 " Black engine, you swallow-outflyer, 
 You are speedy and fearful and strong, 
 
 Will you mangle the hearts of the sinless, 
 And rush in the service of Wrong ? 
 
 "You are glutted ^vith rivers of water 
 And mountains on mountains of coal, 
 
 Is your burning fiery furnace 
 Yet agape for a human soul ? 
 
 "O, 'tis truly I love her, God help me ! 
 
 I will bear for her truly and well, 
 Let her bide in the peace of her pureness 
 
 Though for me be the fire-pits of hell." 
 
 So my soul, in the dust and ashes, 
 Knelt down to its burthen of care ; 
 
 And methought that her far away kisses 
 Burnt blessing and pain on my hair. 
 
 And the young heart died in my bosom, 
 And the young blood failed from my cheek, 
 
 But before me the devil-engine 
 Went out, with a piercing shriek.
 
 UNDER THE GILDING. 
 
 We were at a wedding breakfast met, 
 
 Where beauty was bought by a Christian Jew, 
 
 And merchant and matron and miss were set, 
 And actor and artist and scribbler too, 
 
 And priests who had blessed the bridal twain — 
 Pah ! such a union of maid and man ! 
 
 There was never such boredom of bright champagne 
 And tawdry talk since the world began. 
 
 I was there to harden myself in shame 
 
 Against high illusions long overpast : 
 I had years twenty-five when that morning came. 
 
 And illusions rarely till twenty last. 
 
 I was skilled, I thought, in the wise world's ways ; 
 
 But the practised jest on my lips was dumb : 
 I was sick of my partner's bridemaid-face, 
 
 Vnd I poisoned with loathing the healths to come. 
 
 M
 
 1 62 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 They prated around me I knew not what — 
 Of some woman who was — or was not — fair 
 
 And kind and true ; till my face grew hot 
 And my eyes turned stone in a tortured stare, 
 
 And I felt my joints grown deadly stiff, 
 
 And my sense all jarred with a guilty start ; 
 
 So that scarcely I gasped my breath, as if 
 At a red-hot grasp on my naked heart. 
 
 For I knew the lady they chattered of, 
 
 And her peerless beauty of pitiless frost : — 
 
 The cruel queen of my wild first love, 
 
 Whom I worshipped for seven years — and lost.
 
 HER WINDOW. 
 
 "The angel woman-faces we have seen, 
 And angel woman-spirits we have guessed." 
 
 Clough. 
 
 My one star in heaven — her window, 
 My one goal on earth — her breast ; 
 
 And my dreamed-of sinless Eden — 
 This room of her maiden rest. 
 
 Here the moonlight and sunrise kissed her 
 As she dreamed — on the flower-like mouth 
 
 And august sweet eyes that created 
 And slew the soul of my youth. 
 
 It was here that she prayed and slumbered, 
 And loosed and upwound her hair : 
 
 And fostered the matchless beauty 
 That pierced me of old with despair.
 
 1 64 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 It was here that her long-dead mother 
 Set the place of her curtained bed, 
 
 Where she veiled the growth of her glory 
 Till the morn she went to be wed. 
 
 And now the high shrine of my worship 
 Stands desolate, bleak, and strange ; 
 
 And my first love and I drift sundered, 
 On the graveward currents of change. 
 
 It is long since I passed by her garden 
 Where I failed not in days of old ; 
 
 It is long since the light of her glamour 
 Has died into gloom from gold. 
 
 So that here as I carelessly wander, 
 'Twixt a smile and a sigh I start 
 
 To find of her memory remaining 
 But the scar of her step on my heart. 
 
 The workmen are smoking and jesting. 
 With their ladders and pots of paint. 
 
 In the innermost bower of my angel. 
 The sanctuary of my saint. 
 
 And I stride, scarce abashed, through the litter 
 To the goal of my yearnings of yore ; 
 
 And I kneel not or bow in the temple 
 I had once given eternity for.
 
 HER WINDOW. 165 
 
 So the stricken stands now as a spoiler, 
 
 Beholding her glory brought low, 
 And profanes her high throne, and the stately 
 
 Cold splendour that wounded me so. 
 
 And yet — nay ; for nobly I loved her, 
 Mere statue of ice though she were. 
 
 And I give her but thanks for her mission 
 To teach to my eyes what was fair, 
 
 Though indeed she would turn from my coffin 
 
 In beauty unaltered, and say — 
 " The singer who loved and forgot me 
 
 Is now only festering clay." 
 
 I think of her but as a vision 
 
 That brought to me heavenly gleams, 
 
 As a cloud or a face or a poem 
 Brings transient heavenly dreams. 
 
 The cloud is a mist in the sunshine ; 
 
 The poem a blossom of Art ; 
 Our goddess, an exquisite image, 
 
 Celestial — except at the heart. 
 
 And God makes these coreless fair women. 
 And bright clouds that pass as we gaze. 
 
 To mock us — it may be — a little. 
 Yet rouse us to follow His ways.
 
 l66 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 God sends them to teach us and spur us 
 To aspire far beyond and above : 
 
 The creature, the cloud — are illusions ; 
 The certainties — worship and love. 
 
 Love ! — Ah, for the dream of my boyhood !- 
 For the Good of our life-long quest ! — 
 
 Is it even as the dust and defilement 
 In this room of my first love's rest ?
 
 LEUCONOE. 
 
 O FIRM be my pulse, and my hot brain cool, 
 And my heart as 'tis ever wont to be ; 
 
 For when saw I aught more beautiful 
 
 Than her cheeks and eyes as she walks with me ? 
 
 Under the skies of this fairy clime. 
 
 In the dawn of triumphant womanhood, 
 
 Straying mth me in a fairy time. 
 By fairy city, and stream, and wood. 
 
 Park, and garden, and avenue, 
 
 And palace and fane, and spires and towers, 
 And skies of mother-of-pearl and blue. 
 
 Odours of June — and all this ours. 
 
 Pinnacled stateliness, pastoral grace, 
 And foliaged vistas blocked with bloom. 
 
 And tides of crystal that interlace, 
 
 About thicket and lawn, and in light and gloom.
 
 l68 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 While beds of the blissful forget-me-not 
 
 In river, and glade, and garden rise- 
 To look at their tender colouring, caught 
 In the modest irids of her young eyes. 
 
 And red may and guelder mix overhead, 
 As to match her cheek's ethereal tint ; 
 
 And chestnut blossom is heavily shed 
 
 For her carpet — in faint pink snows without stint. 
 
 She, in perfect, virginal sovereignty. 
 
 So carelessly candid, and sweet in her part ; 
 
 And I, with such brands and blights on me. 
 Here at her side, with a fluttering heart : 
 
 Though Life I have found such a mangling snare, 
 And the grave so greedy of noble youth ; 
 
 Though wrinkled and wasted am I with care. 
 And haggard with quest of the mirage — Truth. 
 
 I ! — awaked from unrest, among blossoming trees 
 Of this English scene, for a delicate space, 
 
 To the charm and spell of Ovocan peace 
 In the sensitive calm of her mind and face ! 
 
 No statue — that knows but its spell-bound slave. 
 
 And slays him calmly and cruelly 
 With scorn as cold as the moss on a grave — 
 
 Is the glowing true woman who walks by me ;
 
 LEUCONOE. 169 
 
 No trustfully helpless, tender child, 
 
 In a blind, great, fervid passion of love 
 
 Caught along, like a plume in a tempest wild. 
 Into heartbreak and death, amid surges rough ;— 
 
 But I know her brain as I know my own. 
 And the trained rare force of her intellect. 
 
 Unique in woman — and void alone 
 
 Of the knowledge the harmless and sweet reject. 
 
 So I could not deceive her — even if I would : 
 She is queen over passion, and queen over scorn ; 
 
 Benign in the strength of her womanhood ; 
 Open-eyed, pure as the breaking morn. 
 
 And I — sworn lieger of Intellect 
 
 And the Will to choose Right, and the Sense of 
 Grace — 
 By her in these shades that the tides reflect, 
 
 Enthralled by her voice, looking down on her face. 
 
 We know each other as equal and friend : 
 
 She would not be my queen ; I would not be 
 her lord. 
 
 But I would we were lovers till our lives' end — 
 One in heart and work, and in aim and hoard.
 
 I/O SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 But I cannot play with her as one plays 
 In brainless jest with a ball-room belle, 
 
 To divine what her heart would grant of grace 
 To me as a lover. — Ah ! well, well, 
 
 Let me rest, and but the pure blossom cull 
 
 Of the moment here under the greenwood tree ; 
 
 For when saw I aught more beautiful 
 
 Than her cheeks and eyes as she walks with me ?
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 The saying is the serpent's, 
 But I take it at the odds : 
 
 Did ye know good and evil 
 Then ye should be as gods. 
 
 O fair must be the heaven 
 That opes beyond the grave, 
 
 If it be like the heaven 
 
 Spread over field and wave. 
 
 And sweet must be the future 
 In bright Elysian fields, 
 
 If it excel the beauty 
 
 And joy the Present yields. 
 
 To live the life God gives us, 
 With blessed pleasures rife. 
 
 Is— sure ! the way to thank Him 
 For Everlasting Life.
 
 172 SONGS OF STUDY, 
 
 Did sweet Miss Mahon dream it 
 This evening, as we drove 
 
 Under the wintry crescent 
 Along the wintry grove ? 
 
 Dream of the ecstatic stillness 
 Of eve on mead and mere ? 
 
 Dream how divine our breathing 
 The natural atmosphere ? 
 
 Dream how supremely lovely 
 Her face and figure were : 
 
 The noble classic figure, 
 The classic weight of hair ? 
 
 Dream how divine the kindling 
 Of health in eye and cheek ? 
 
 Dream how divine the smiling 
 She wore to hear me speak ? 
 
 Dream how inspired her graveness 
 When we let all speech die 
 
 Under the holy silence 
 Of universal sky ? 
 
 Dream of the wayside runnel, 
 A wheel-crashed icy bar ? 
 
 Dream that she shone in woman 
 My loftiest crystal star ?
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. IJl 
 
 Dream of her queenly, careless, 
 
 Mild bliss of pure content, 
 As under elfin branches 
 
 In elfin light we went ? 
 
 Ah ! does she dream I ponder 
 Here — hours on hours — alone. 
 
 The charm of being with her, — 
 Her every look and tone ? 
 
 Ah ! does she dream what fills me. 
 
 Making dull slumber flee, 
 To think that she reposes 
 
 Under one roof with me ? 
 
 Ah ! were I sure she dreamed it 
 And shared my trance of bliss. 
 
 The future could do nothing 
 But cloy or copy this.
 
 A FROSTFERN. 
 
 I DREAMED last night of you, dearest, 
 
 As the stars in their courses went 
 Over all this gleam and chiming 
 
 Of the streams and spires of Ghent ; 
 I dreamed of your blushing pureness 
 
 Through the hours of the world's eclipse, 
 And awoke with the consecration 
 
 Of your innocent kiss on my lips. 
 
 It was only deceitful fancy 
 
 That played such a flattering part, 
 For how could I hope to tenant 
 
 The shrine of your angel-heart ? 
 But the thought of your fairy presence. 
 
 And the taste of your visioned kiss, 
 Have illumined a winter waking 
 
 With an April of laughing bliss.
 
 GLADIATRIX. 
 
 Face to face once more we stand, 
 And you proffer me your hand, 
 
 And your eyelashes gleam wet, 
 
 As you ask me to forget 
 
 What took place when last we met. 
 
 I can not forget while living, 
 
 But I grant you my forgiving 
 For your stabs of long ago. 
 When I loved your sister so, 
 Why were you my deadly foe ? 
 
 Though I feel you evil throughly. 
 
 How can I abhor you duly 
 
 While you yet such likeness bear 
 To my darling's eyes and hair. 
 And her sensitive sweet air ? 
 
 Her intoxicating smile 
 
 Masks your soul's consummate guile ; 
 And her low voice you have still — 
 Strange ! the puzzle of the will, 
 Hers to suffer — yours to kill.
 
 176 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Kill ! although she loved you well. 
 
 Ah ! the old insatiate spell 
 Quickens into life apace 
 With the beauty of your race 
 On your statuesque pale face 
 
 And serene supernal brow : 
 Beaming calmly on me now, 
 
 As the last taunt to be borne 
 Of your avalanche of scorn 
 Hurled on me that far-off morn 
 
 When you found her at my side 
 All but pledged to be my bride, 
 
 And your traitorous gracious art 
 Rent our knitted lives apart 
 By the vow that broke her heart. 
 
 Vilest devil in her shape, 
 I can curse you, and escape 
 
 From the hell you lure me to : 
 
 O, till now I never knew 
 
 That you loved me— loved me — you !
 
 LADY BLANCHE'S AUSTRALIAN. 
 
 "There are things of which I may not speak ; 
 There are dreams that cannot die ; 
 There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak ; 
 And bring a pallor into the cheek, 
 And a mist before the eye." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 He sprawled on a couch and watched the rinkers, 
 
 The tawny Australian millionaire : 
 Tawny his gold-digging gold-crusted fingers, 
 
 And tawny as gold his beard and hair. 
 And the Lady Blanche's imperial grace, 
 Because she had known him in younger days, 
 And because she was sweet as sweet could be, 
 And because he was bored by her Guardsman 
 friend 
 About his colonial cavalry — 
 Approached, through the crowd of London fashion, 
 In all the splendour of beauty and station ; 
 And smiled, and spoke at the sofa-end.
 
 178 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 The capitalist in comforters 
 
 Was enthralled by that soft sweet voice of hers : 
 
 They sat them down on the velvet fine, 
 
 The Highland pipes playing "Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 " You remember the summer my father died, 
 And my home set sail for the world's other side. — 
 
 Well, yes 5 my lady. 'Twas as you say. — 
 
 But I remember as yesterday. 
 Meeting you later — in rain and wind — 
 
 Near our county town by the hills and bay; 
 For I found an excuse to linger behind. 
 
 In a tender dream that haunts me yet ; — 
 
 And then I tore myself wholly away. 
 Stayed over the space of half a year, 
 To breathe your beloved atmosphere. — 
 
 Do you remember when last we met ? 
 
 " What splendid surprise in your noble eyes ! 
 Be at ease. My wife and my boys are here ; 
 And my brain is as cool as the gem in your ear. 
 
 " But — do you remember ? The sky was grey, 
 
 And the streets were still, and the ground dry- 
 white ; 
 
 And I, in the sweet of the crystal day, 
 Walked, and mused of my lost delight : —
 
 LADY BLANCHES AUSTRALIAN. 179 
 
 Your pale cheek, pure as the autumn air — 
 
 The statehness of your gentle eyes — 
 The thundercloud of abundant hair — 
 
 The lips that closed in lovelier wise 
 Than any others. My sweet white girl ! 
 
 The \\'indow set in my life's dark chamber, 
 
 To give me the sunshine's molten amber, 
 And silver floods of the air's pure pearl, 
 
 And cool fresh breath of mom and even. 
 
 And all the joy of the open heaven. 
 
 — " Why should I tell you a dismal story — 
 The Avretched wreck of a young life's glory — 
 How love and content were smitten together 
 With all the sweetness of Northern weather ? 
 
 " I turned my face from the taints of town 
 
 To breathe myself on the lonely down. 
 
 And I said, ' I will take the path by the river, 
 
 Though at the Yule-tide the boughs bud never, 
 
 Yet grandly o'erhead swings the bare dark branch ; ' 
 
 And behold you were there before me, Blanche ! 
 
 " Do you remember? You walked alone, 
 By the rustling reeds of the river shore. 
 
 And a wind arose — till your veil was blown 
 
 From the fluttering cluster of plumes you wore ;
 
 l8o SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And you saw as you turned from the stinging blast, 
 How I reached for your veil as it flitted past, 
 And tracked it, and caught it, and clasped it fast. 
 
 " A shade came over the shuddering world. 
 Uprose the voice of the wildernesses, 
 
 The great gust roared in the high tree-tops, 
 And smote down before it the leafless copse ; 
 The river moaned in its black recesses ; 
 The long boughs over us lashed and whirled ; 
 And the placid pools were alive with dancers. 
 As the sleet came down like a charge of lancers. 
 
 " You came to me down the darkened path. 
 
 Rapt in a ravin of winter's wrath. 
 
 In the stunning stroke and the flaying breath — 
 
 Hurled, like a berry that withereth. 
 
 Almost from my outstretched hands as you caught 
 
 them — 
 Lifted and whirled like a leaf of autumn. 
 
 " Do you remember, my storm-tossed dove ? 
 It was over a mile to a human roof. 
 
 Through the ravaging wind and raging rain ; 
 But I hid your beauty from rude reproof. 
 
 Though the hurricane struck at you might and main.
 
 LADY BLANCHE'S AUSTRALIAN. l8l 
 
 Ah ! you smile — with a blush and a tear — to remember 
 
 What I shall forget not while I live,— 
 Your making with me such a mad-brained clamber 
 
 Up to the cleft of the leaning cliff : 
 How I kept your skirts from the draggled ferns, 
 And tore your curls from the grasp of the thorns ; 
 
 How we crossed the breach in the rock-crashed 
 hedge, 
 
 And stepped the plashes from edge to edge 
 
 On faggots flung in the spongy sedge. 
 And so — On — Up. Till you laughed at last, 
 With the dark pine ranks about you massed. 
 At the stabbing storm as it galloped past. 
 
 — " Friends who have parted, ah ! so widely. 
 Here once more, joining the right hands gladly; 
 Tasting anew the sweet old savour, 
 Through all the strangeness of foreign favour ! — 
 
 '* Even then our lives had turned asunder : — 
 
 One, whole and pure as an opening flower. 
 The other, marked by the marring thunder, 
 
 Standing : a lonely broken tower. — 
 And we gossiped of past and coming changes, 
 Of friends whom distance and time estranges — 
 
 Differing gleanings of girl and boy : — 
 Your wild hair blown into tangled eddies. 
 
 To give your comb, as you said, employ;
 
 1 82 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And beyond all loveliness of all ladies 
 
 That the fates to my roving eyes disclose, — 
 Your cheeks, — rain-kissed into lilied rose. 
 
 "Well, time from all idols our fancy weans. 
 
 But I remember you as in your teens. 
 Do you remember ? — Among your daughters 
 
 Such talk from a stranger comes in with a wrench. 
 But you know now a thing which many waters. 
 
 As saith the Scripture, can never quench." 
 
 He stood up to meet his young Australians ; 
 
 And Guardsmen beaux, looking small by those aliens, 
 
 Brought Lady Blanche's girls to their mother. 
 
 The young people haughtily bowed to each other ; 
 
 But Lady Blanche's gloved braceleted hand, 
 
 With a mournful smile of refulgent calm, 
 Was given those lads of Omana-land 
 
 And crushed in the gold-digger's horny palm. 
 
 So they met and parted, — there at the rink ; 
 
 And their hearts were lifted and filled, I think, 
 
 With sense of what Life — and its dreams — must 
 
 mean, 
 As the band struck into — " God save the Queen ! "
 
 VIGNETTES.
 
 IN THE ENGINE SHED. 
 
 The air was heavy with greasy vapour ; 
 
 The walls were Hke cinders ; the floor, of slack. 
 The engine-driver came to his labour, 
 
 A good-humoured corpulent old coal-sack, 
 With a thick gold chain where it bulged the most, 
 And a beard like a brush, and a face like a toast, 
 And a hat half-eaten by fire and frost ; 
 And a diamond pin in the folded dirt 
 Of the shawl that served him for collar and shirt 
 
 Whenever he harnessed his steed of mettle : — 
 The shovel-fed monster that could not tire. 
 With limbs of steel and entrails of fire ; 
 
 Above us it sang like a big tea-kettle. 
 
 Now, I wouldn't have him think I'd note it, 
 Much less — ever dream that I wrote it. 
 But he came to his salamander toils 
 
 In one of the D.evil's cast-off suits, 
 All charred, and discoloured with rain and oils 
 
 And smeared and sooted from muffler to boots.
 
 1 86 SONGS OF STUDY. ' 
 
 Some wiping — it struck him — his paws might suffer 
 With a wisp of threads he found on the buffer ; 
 (The improvement indeed was not very great). 
 Then he spat, and passed his pipe to his mate. 
 
 And his whole face laughed with an honest mirth, 
 As any extant on this grimy earth, 
 
 Welcoming me to his murky region ; 
 And had you known him, I tell you this — 
 Though your bright hair shiver and shrink at its roots 
 
 O piano-fingering fellow-collegian — 
 You would have returned no cold salutes 
 To the cheery greeting of hearty Chris, 
 But ungloved your hand, and locked it in his. 
 
 The icy sleet-storm shatters and scatters. 
 And falls on the pane like a pile of fetters ; 
 He flies through it all with the world's love-letters : 
 The master of mighty leviathan-motions 
 
 That make for him storm when the nights are fair, 
 
 And cook him with fire and carve him with air, 
 While we sleep soft in the carriage cushions. 
 And he keeps watch on the signal red O.'s. 
 
 Often had Chris over England rolled me ; 
 
 You shall hear a story he told me 
 Of tender grace and the dewy meadows.
 
 IN THE ENGINE SHED. 1 8/ 
 
 The Story. 
 
 We were driving the down express ; 
 Will at the steam, I at the coal : 
 Over the valleys and villages, 
 Over the marshes and coppices, 
 Over the river, deep and broad ; 
 Through the mountain, under the road, 
 
 Flying along, 
 
 Tearing along. 
 Thunderbolt engine, swift and strong, 
 Fifty tons she was, whole and sole ! 
 
 I had been promoted to the express : 
 I warrant to me that run was gay. 
 It was the evening that ended May, 
 
 And the sky — was a glory of tenderness. 
 We were thundering down to a midland town, — 
 
 It doesn't matter about the name 
 For we didn't stop there, or anywhere 
 For a dozen o' miles on either side. 
 
 So it's all the same — 
 
 Just there you shde. 
 With your steam shut off, and your brakes in hand, 
 Down the steepest and longest grade in the land 
 At a pace that I promise you is grand.
 
 1 88 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 We were just there with the express, 
 When I caught sight of a musUn dress 
 On the bank ahead ; and as we passed — 
 You have no notion of how fast — 
 A girl shrank back from our baleful blast. 
 
 We were going — a mile and a quarter a minute — 
 
 With vans and carriages — down the incline ! 
 But I saw her face, and the sunshine in it ; 
 
 I looked in her eyes, and she looked in mine 
 As the train went by, like a shot from a mortar : 
 
 A roaring hell-breath of dust and smoke. 
 
 And I mused for a minute, and then — awoke : 
 And she was behind us — a mile and a quarter. 
 
 And the years went on, and the express 
 Leaped in her black resistlessness. 
 Evening by evening, England through. — 
 
 Will — God rest him ! — was found — a mash 
 
 Of bleeding rags, in a fearful smash 
 He made of a Christmas train at Crewe. 
 It chanced I was ill the night of the mess 
 
 Or I shouldn't now be here alive ; 
 But thereafter, the five o'clock out express, 
 
 Evening by evening, I used to drive. 
 
 And I often saw her : that lady, I mean. 
 That I spoke of before. She often stood
 
 IN THE ENGINE SHED. 189 
 
 Atop of the bank ; — it was pretty high, 
 Say twenty feet, and backed by a wood. — 
 
 She would pick the daisies out of the green 
 
 To fling down at us as we went by. 
 
 We had got to be friends, that girl and I, 
 
 Though I was a rugged stalwart chap. 
 
 And she a lady ! I'd take off my cap 
 Evening by evening, when I'd spy 
 
 That she was there, in the summer air, 
 Watching the sun sink out of the sky. 
 
 Oh, I didn't see her every night : 
 
 Bless you ! no ; just now and then, 
 And not at all for a twelvemonth quite. 
 
 Then, one evening, I saw her again. 
 Alone as ever — but deadly pale 
 And down on the line, on the very rail. 
 While a light as of hell from our wild wheels broke, 
 
 Tearing down the slope with their devilish clamours 
 
 And deafening din as of giant hammers 
 That smote in a whirlwind of dust and smoke 
 
 All the instant or so that we sped to meet her. 
 
 — Never, O never, had she seemed sweeter ! — 
 I let yell the whistle, reversing the stroke 
 Down that awful incline ; and signalled the guard 
 To put on his brakes at once, and HARD — 
 Though we couldn't have stopped. We tattered the rail 
 Into splinters and sparks, but without avail.
 
 IQO SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 We couldn't stop ; and she wouldn't stir, 
 Saving to turn us her eyes, and stretch 
 Her arms to us : — and the desperate wretch 
 I pitied, comprehending her. 
 So the brakes let off, and the steam full again, 
 Sprang down on the lady the terrible train. — 
 She never flinched. We beat her down. 
 And ran on through the lighted length of the town 
 Before we could stop, to see what was done. 
 
 Oh, I've run over more than one ! 
 Dozens of 'em, to be sure ; but none 
 That I pitied as I pitied her — 
 If I could have stopped — with all the spur 
 Of the train's weight on, and cannily — 
 But it wouldn't do with a lad like me 
 And she a lady, — or had been. — Sir ? 
 Who was she ? — Best say no more of her ; 
 The world is hard. But I'm her friend, 
 Staunch, sir, — down to the world's end. 
 It's a curl of her sunny hair 
 Set in this locket that I wear ; 
 I picked it off the big wheel there. — 
 Time's up, Jack. — Stand clear, sir. Yes, 
 We're going out with the express.
 
 MIRANDA. 
 
 She stands on the ridge with her locks blown level, 
 Her proud face turned to the stormy sea 
 
 And magnificent gusts — as they rise and revel, 
 Whirling white spray and her fine hair free : 
 
 The rocks not more black in their drenched recesses 
 
 Than her tossing mantle of storm-dark tresses. 
 
 The thundercloud bursts in the wild rain-scourges ; 
 
 The thunderbolt falls on the reeling hill ; 
 The hurricane tears up the boiling surges ; 
 
 Her clear dark eye is untroubled still ; 
 For she sees not yet the brave ship of her lover, 
 Which even now Ariel hovers over
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 " But let my due feet never fail 
 To walk the studious doister's pale, 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 With antique pillars massy proof. 
 And storied windows richly dight, 
 Casting a dim religious light. 
 There let the pealing organ blow 
 To the full-voiced quire below, 
 In service high, and anthems clear. 
 As may with sweetness, through mine ear. 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes." 
 
 // Penseroso. 
 
 We went at evensong, to pray 
 
 That peace, which this world cannot give ; 
 And duteous vows and rites to pay, 
 
 And gather grace to rightly live. 
 
 Through meadows, filled with hawthorn scent 
 And warm light from the sunken sun, 
 
 By winding flowery ways we went ; 
 And as the chimes were almost done,
 
 VESPERS. . 193 
 
 We passed in at the ivied porch 
 
 With rustle of her silk attire, 
 And up along the quiet church 
 
 To her dim alcove in the choir. 
 
 A seemly smoothing of the skirt, 
 
 A bowing of the brow to pray ; 
 Her meek devotion chains my heart, 
 
 And vagrant musings pass away. 
 
 The stir adown the aisle has ceased, 
 
 And lo ! the holy sound begins 
 As the intoning of the priest 
 
 Makes lamentation for our sins. 
 
 Alack, our sins ! what sins has she 
 
 Who kneels beside me with bent head? 
 
 Upon her tender purity, 
 
 O righteous Lord, what taint is shed ? 
 
 Our sins ! Alack, this gentle girl's, 
 Whose heart is meeker than a lamb's, 
 
 Whose soul is lovely as the curls 
 That fall across her folded palms : 
 
 O King most Holy and most High, 
 Smite not a sinner vile and mean ; 
 
 How grim with clotted guilt am I 
 If this white blossom be not clean ! 
 
 o
 
 194 SONGS OF STUDV. 
 
 Behold ! I am too throughly base 
 For her to tread on loathingly ; 
 
 But for her gentleness and grace, 
 May God be merciful to me. 
 
 Lo ! the Magnificat swells — rich 
 
 And solemn — from the solemn calm, 
 
 And the rapt spirit soars the pitch 
 Of heaven with the sacred psalm. 
 
 And she, with bright lips — ^and bright eyes 
 Hovering 'twixt downcast and uplift, — 
 
 Sings, like some changeling of the skies 
 Strayed hither through a cloudy rift. 
 
 O King and Lord, how fair art Thou 
 If this Thy creature be so fair ! 
 
 Ever be it with me as now, 
 
 Singing with angels, here or there. 
 
 Here, praising Thee a little space, 
 My hushed heart listening to her ; 
 
 There, praising Thee before Thy face. 
 With saints — ^in some wise — lovelier. 
 
 Dear Lord, my cold heart is constrained 
 
 To melt in gentle gratitude 
 For four fair things Thou hast ordained 
 
 To be so gracious and so good :
 
 VESPERS. 195 
 
 The spring time, and the stars, and Song, 
 And smiles of Thy sweet handmaidens 
 
 That guide and cheer our steps along 
 
 Through what Avere else but wastes immense. 
 
 Thy daughters. Master : purest springs 
 
 Of all what little nobleness — 
 Or mere weak love of noble things — 
 
 Has striven with the dark excess 
 
 Of evil in my wayward life : 
 
 High thoughts they breathe, and lofty aims 
 In this old world, where souls grow stiff, 
 
 And cheeks burn hard with hourly shames. 
 
 Not light loves of an idle day ; 
 
 But queens, throned in the reverent mind 
 Above all change or stain — to sway 
 
 By graceful charities and kind. 
 
 How sweet the sabbath evening prayer. 
 While sunset shapes its golden crown. 
 
 And fades out from the glowing air. 
 As slowly God's peace deepens down ; 
 
 And farther, fainter grows the bleat 
 Of prosperous flocks ; and one by one 
 
 Die woodland warblings wild and sweet, 
 And but the even monotone
 
 196 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Of pious exhortation sounds : 
 
 While griefs, and cares, and passions lull, 
 WTiat rest, and love, and bliss abounds, 
 
 She sitting by me, beautiful. 
 
 Master, Thy child ! upon my sleeve 
 
 See her dark ringlets ! How they shine 
 
 To bring me thankfullest belief 
 In beauty, human and divine. 
 
 O Master, I am dark with guilt. 
 Yet will I strive Thy grace to stir ; 
 
 Deal with me always as Thou wilt, 
 But O ! deal tenderly with her. 
 
 A boon I ask, most Bountiful !— 
 Not roses of her love's delight ; 
 
 Indeed I do not care to cull 
 
 Blossoms my touch would only blight. 
 
 But, O fair Lord, upon her pour 
 Thy blessing, as Thou judgest best ; 
 
 Of the full riches of Thy store 
 Bestow on her the goodliest. 
 
 The preacher's words I hardly hear, 
 I know their sense by heart of old ; 
 
 But their smooth flow upon my ear 
 Brings to me blessings manifold.
 
 VESPERS. 197 
 
 How still and peaceful all things are, 
 
 Musing upon the things of heaven ; 
 High in the blue the evening star 
 
 Is kindling, like a soul forgiven. 
 
 And all below is hushed in shade, 
 Veiled in dim, hallowed, happy rest ; 
 
 While slowly, wide and wider spread 
 Sweet influences, calm and blest. 
 
 Lo ! now the whispered benison, 
 
 Descending into every heart; 
 God's peace be with us — 'every one ! — 
 
 We rise up straightway, and depart. 
 
 With HER adown the darkened aisle, 
 
 And out into the balmy gloom, 
 Where the stars twinkle, clear and still, 
 
 Through boughs that droop with heavy bloom.
 
 PICNIC. 
 
 " Not by any means pretty," 
 
 The gainsaying council said 
 Of critics come down from the City 
 
 To dine in the green glenhead ; 
 For when lovers went up by the shady 
 
 Mossed ways to the waterfall top, 
 We had got to discussing a lady 
 
 With sherry and ginger-pop. 
 
 Not rich, nor clever, nor witty. 
 
 The girl in the gipsy hat, 
 And — goodness gracious I — not pretty, 
 
 There could be no doubt about that. 
 But then the opinions divided. 
 
 And criticism came to a halt ; 
 Disagreeing, deriding, derided — 
 
 Each finding a different fault.
 
 PICNIC. 199 
 
 So I left them all squabbling together, 
 
 These wiseacre women and men. 
 More sweet was the midsummer weather, 
 
 More grand the magnificent glen ; ' 
 And strolling from crescent to crescent 
 
 Of river that foamed from the fall, 
 My thoughts were none the less pleasant 
 
 Because of Miss What-d'ye-call. 
 
 I had known the girl from a baby. 
 
 Whose beauty had borne rebuke ; 
 We had blotted the self-same copy, 
 
 And spelt from the self-same book. 
 And as in wild-wood bower 
 
 Of new-grown greenery, 
 Opeth an April flower, — 
 
 Even so fair was she.
 
 WHITE ROSES. 
 
 She sat by her open piano, 
 
 Under lavish gold of her hair, 
 And loosed the tide of her playing 
 
 On the stillness of evening air : 
 Like a springtide surging and spreading, 
 
 In celestial strength and grace. 
 From her magical floating fingers 
 
 And the peace of her white-rose face. 
 
 Ah ! what words for that saintly music, 
 
 With divine unconsciousness played ? 
 In a trance the starlight listened, 
 
 And the lawns, and the laurel shade. 
 It was now like the roar of billows, 
 
 With a diamond spray breaking through. 
 Now tenderly soft, and wondrous 
 
 As the birth of the summer dew.
 
 WHITE ROSES. 20I 
 
 Too brief was that glimpse of heaven, 
 
 Like an angel's visit it passed ; 
 Pure notes dropped, slowly and starlike, 
 
 And she blushed — blue-eyed — at the .last. 
 But I could remember her ever 
 
 By that rapturous, melodied space. 
 By the sunset cloud of her tresses. 
 
 And the dream on her white-rose face. 
 
 1879.
 
 PIA. 
 
 " Puritan pansies." 
 
 E. A. POE. 
 
 With voices hushed and heads dedined 
 We gathered in where we had dined — 
 Among these pious Puritans ; 
 And a book was brought of the hoar old man's, 
 And evening prayers were devoutly read ; 
 Then straightway the good-nights were said — 
 While kindly hands my fingers pressed — 
 And weary limbs were laid to rest. 
 
 Yet by the windows lingered I 
 Under the large stars of the sky, 
 As loth to close and put away 
 The volume of so sweet a day — 
 Last of that summer's holidays 
 For me, the eager toiler of town. 
 In the midst of my task by rail run down 
 For respite and rest in this blessed place. 
 We kept that day like a sacrament, . 
 A mid-week sabbath of heather-scent,
 
 PIA. 203 
 
 Scicred and sinless from waking till now. 
 
 Along ferny valley and purple brow 
 
 And fox-gloved ravine and mossy grot 
 
 Lulled by the tinkle of trickling rills, 
 
 And at lakes far hid in the wooded hills, 
 
 Where the place praised God as our mouths could not 
 
 With waterfall thunder and sunlit rain ; 
 
 And hither we came at eve again 
 
 With maiden jesting and harmless mocks 
 
 To Ocean breaking upon his rocks. 
 
 And now that stars were overhead, 
 And wise old folk were gone to bed. 
 Still we delayed, and would not yield 
 Our woodland festival fulfilled. ' 
 
 Then she who was the household light, 
 Because it was a lovely night — 
 Returned, with her long hair let down 
 Showing the golden in the brown, 
 To plan with us one sally more 
 By the dark woods and moaning shore. 
 To taste the pureness of the air 
 That hung in dewy fragrance there. 
 
 / 
 
 And I beheld with mild surprise 
 The exquisiteness of her eyes 
 Green-grey like leaves of mistletoe, 
 And lit with innocence and bliss ;
 
 204 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Her forehead smooth and high and modest, 
 And white round neck too highly bodiced, 
 And rings of hair now loose on her shawl. 
 
 O cynical friend, you cannot know 
 How perfectly sweet that maiden is 
 From her heart to her clinging finger-tips- - 
 With willow-like figure and rose-leaf lips — 
 And she never dreams she is sweet at all. 
 
 But like as a violet blooms in the shade, 
 So the beauty blooms of that Puritan maid 
 Who stood with us there, so meekly fair, 
 Shame-faced — and not with braided hair, 
 As if on the ancient text she thought : 
 Nor with fine apparel richly wrought, 
 Nor mannered sweetness feigned with care 
 Her gentle image to instal 
 In hearts unpuritanical. 
 
 But of lilac print was her Quaker dress, 
 And her soul was all maiden tenderness ; 
 So that here she stood with her unbound tresses 
 Among the children who loved her well, 
 And spoke of the shore and the moaning swell 
 And the wood and the starlit lonelinesses. 
 
 We passed out into the holy fear 
 Of the quiet wood-ways mossed and ferned ; 
 And through fondling branches deeply-leaved, 
 We heard how the sleepless billow turned
 
 PIA. 205 
 
 On the pillowing sand, as the bright sea heaved. 
 
 And coming out thus on the village pier 
 We saw the headland shadow the bay, 
 And the lighthouse twinkle from far away, • 
 And a meteor fling out a fiery dart. 
 
 O, deeply of peace our spirits drank 
 As we stood on the quay some space apart, 
 And the benediction of starlight sank 
 Over the spire and hills and woods, 
 And the gleaming sea's pure solitudes. 
 And on lips and tresses and brow and heart. 
 
 1875-
 
 THE DREAM OF PIA. 
 
 O, THE night is weary and we are worn, 
 So thorny and steep is the narrow road,. 
 
 But we trust to see gleam in the golden morn 
 The crystal spires of the city of God, 
 
 The jasper walls and the ivory towers, 
 And the adamant gateways in lofty line ; 
 
 And the River of Bliss, and the fadeless flowers, 
 And the purple banner of Love Divine ; 
 
 And the white-winged sentinels, helmed and girt. 
 And the bugles blowing our welcome home : 
 
 We who have suffered and have not spared, 
 For the hope of the promise of joys to come. 
 
 And in palace-porch and in castle-court 
 The angels are glad as we enter in ; 
 
 With shawms and cymbals and timbrel sport. 
 They hail the children redeemed from sin.
 
 THE DREAM OF PIA. 207 
 
 They seal our brows with the kiss of peace, 
 They bring us the stainless robe, and palm ; 
 
 They wreathe our tresses with amaranth sprays, 
 Anointing with ointment, and myrrh, and balm. 
 
 And the souls we knew for our friends of yore 
 Walk hand in hand with us on and on ; 
 
 Laughter and music and scent evermore 
 From open window and balcony blown 
 
 Through the marble streets of the marvellous town 
 Where all is wonder, where all are blest ; 
 
 Where the careful at last without thought lie down, 
 Where the sick have strength, and the weary rest 
 
 On white stately terraces down to the tide 
 Of the amber stream alabaster-quayed. 
 
 Reflecting high porticoes' pillared pride 
 And carven trophy and balustrade. 
 
 And so we are led to the flower-strewn hall 
 
 Where the cross is blazoned on panel and pane, 
 
 And the Lamb sits meek in the midst of them all 
 For sake of whom He was foully slain; / 
 
 xA-nd the anthem rolls — as the voices throng 
 Chanting together — and clear and sharp 
 
 Pulses out through the body of song 
 Viol and cornet and flute and harp.
 
 208 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 Choirs on choirs yet open up louder, 
 Antiphons meet from the distances dim, 
 
 Hearts throb higher and eyes gleam prouder 
 Pouring their souls in united hymn ; 
 
 And ever one voice arises keen, 
 
 A treble trilled over the praising crowd, 
 
 Until, the full strains gathering in. 
 It is lost like a star in a silver cloud ; 
 
 And another echoes the sweet refrain. 
 
 Drowned in another more sweet and clear : 
 
 Echo on echo again and again, 
 
 Throbbing and longing afar and near. 
 
 O fair Lord Christ, shall I look on Thee, 
 
 Face to face in that glorious din ; 
 Shall the saints about Thee make way for me, 
 
 For me — who am sordid and foul with sin ? 
 
 O Sovereign, let me but fall abashed : 
 
 Thou hadst not once where Thy head might lie, 
 
 Though of old high anthems about Thee crashed ; 
 But, alas ! alas ! what a worm am I ! — 
 
 I, who have been but Thy shame and loss, — 
 I, whose exceeding iniquities nailed 
 
 Thy tender limbs to the bitter cross. 
 
 When naught but Thy innocent blood availed !
 
 THE DREAM OF PIA. 209 
 
 Thou art royally gracious, and sure Thy Word 
 
 Standeth for ever, as all shall see ; 
 But this place too blessed Thou hast prepared, 
 
 Too noble and lovely for one like me. 
 
 Had I died as of old Thy martyrs died, 
 Torn by the brute or the fiercer flame ; 
 
 Had the rack's rough crankles my joints untied, 
 In eager witness of Thy loved name ; 
 
 Then, haply, to-day in Thy Paradise, 
 
 Wounded with fire or the sword or fangs,. 
 
 I might undaunted behold Thine eyes. 
 
 For Thou takest note of Thy servants' pangs. 
 
 But now, though Thy blood maketh sweet and clean, 
 Is there yet of Thy ransomed so mean a one ? 
 
 Wilt Thou love me. Master, and have me lean 
 
 On Thy breast — as at supper Thy good Saint John ? 
 
 Ah ! meeter to fall at Thy gate and pray — 
 
 Albeit I sully the pavement bright — 
 That Thou wouldst hallow me day by day 
 
 Tc. dwell with Thee in Thy halls of light. 
 
 And, O, be merciful. Gently deal 
 
 With me, my flesh, and my father's house, 
 
 That we may not fail of Thy final weal. 
 Or stand before Thee with shamed brows. 
 
 p
 
 EMIGRANT. 
 
 She clasped her hands on my arm ; 
 
 She laid her cheek on my shoulder ; 
 The tide of her tears fell warm 
 
 On hands that trembled to hold her ; 
 I whispered a pitying word 
 
 As the ship moved slowly apart, 
 And the grief of the friendless poured 
 
 Its choking weight on my heart. 
 
 For graves in the evening shade 
 
 Were green on a far-off hill, 
 Where the joys of her life were laid, 
 
 With love that had known no chill. 
 But, however her heart might yearn. 
 
 We were facing the freshening breeze ; 
 And the white wake lengthened astern 
 
 On the rolling floor of the seas.
 
 EMIGRANT. 211 
 
 She quenched the fire of her tears, 
 
 Uplifting her meek, brave head. 
 " Or dark or bright be the years, 
 
 I will take courage," she said- 
 Smoothing back her loose-blowing hair. 
 
 And her shawl drawing closer the while ; 
 So she drank in the strong sea air 
 
 And turned away with a smile.
 
 TO THIS BOOK. 
 
 Rein yet your pawing palfrey 
 
 An instant ere you go ; 
 And give me, sweet, your fingers, 
 
 Here at your saddle bow :. 
 Your soft ungloved brown fingers 
 
 One instant I would press 
 And kiss — before you leave me, 
 
 You dear Adventuress. 
 
 I pat your champing palfrey. 
 
 His neck should know my hand ; 
 Though restive and impatient, 
 
 He will not fail to stand. 
 He should not reckon closely 
 
 A minute more or less. 
 Now that you go for ever, 
 
 My wild Adventuress.
 
 TO THIS BOOK. 21 
 
 The bit I wrought of silver, 
 
 Of silk I wove the rein ; 
 I bred your foaming palfrey 
 
 From noble-mettled strain : 
 It Avas my joy to groom him 
 
 And braid each maney tress, 
 And deck him up to bear you, 
 
 My bold Adventuress. 
 
 You chose the saddle housings, 
 
 This girth of double strength. 
 My darling — and the stirrup, 
 
 Is it of easy length ? 
 And now too that you wear it — 
 
 You like your riding-dress ? — 
 Ah ! dear, I think you grace it, 
 
 You sweet Adventuress. 
 
 What friends were we in rain-time 
 
 And happy summer sweet, 
 At morning and at midnight, 
 
 In study and in strtet ! 
 O, bitter were the seasons 
 
 Of wrong and loneliness 
 When you were absent from me, 
 
 You young Adventuress. 
 
 p
 
 214 SONGS OF STUDY. 
 
 And now you kiss my forehead, 
 
 And pray to sally forth ; 
 For you are proud and ardent, 
 
 And long to see the earth ; 
 And I am grown world-weary, 
 
 And though I still would bless, 
 You pout, and shrug your shoulders, 
 
 You frank Adventuress. 
 
 And so ride out, my darling, 
 
 This parting is enough ; 
 The freight you bear is Courage, 
 
 The meed you seek is Love. 
 Ride far by coast and city. 
 
 An envoy guerdonless, 
 And seek your fate and find it, 
 
 My own Adventuress. 
 
 Good-bye, good-bye, my darling. 
 
 Shake out your gipsy hair ; 
 The brightness of its blackness, 
 
 Shall fold you from Despair. 
 Some will be found to love you ; 
 
 And if some hate no less, 
 Then this shall be your buckler— 
 
 Your laugh, Adventuress.
 
 TO THIS BOOK. 215 
 
 Your palfrey's nostril widens, 
 
 His eye rolls proud and bright ; 
 One kiss. — Ten years of living 
 
 He bears away to-night. 
 He backs and rears and prances ; 
 
 The spur you lightly press : 
 A laugh, half-sweet, half-bitter,— 
 
 Adieu, Adventuress. 
 
 Rothesay, 1880.
 
 ENVOI. 
 
 I WOULD I had choicer keepsakes, 
 For my best is a clumsy thing, 
 
 Ill-cut from the opal of pleasure 
 And the granite of suffering ; 
 
 But if amulets you would have of me 
 For your guard upon earthly soil. 
 
 Take the jewelled burin of laughter, 
 And the tempered crowbar of toil. 
 
 And, O, think none of my keepsakes — 
 Unless you would have me mourn — 
 
 But an altar-piece for your saddening. 
 Or a whetted barb for your scorn. 
 
 For even in the gloomiest corner 
 
 Of my heart's dark graveyard of woes, 
 
 I would note but the nestling lilies 
 And point but the reaching rose.
 
 ENVOI. 217 
 
 And if you should love me a little 
 When my story is over and done, 
 
 I would pray you, Be kind to children — 
 I would pray you. Love the sun. 
 
 And when you are sad and weary, 
 It may help you — to think of this : 
 
 That a sadder soul now leaves you 
 With a smile and a wafted kiss. 
 
 Amsterdam, 1880. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 12 
 
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