mm 
 
 mm
 
 M"" 
 
 [iiB^.>?y.v:^;'y-T:--'- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 m^
 
 8'
 
 P I N C C H I.
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED BY WERTHEIMEB ANP CO. 
 FINSBCRT CIECVS.
 
 P I N O C C H I 
 
 LONDON 
 JOHN W. PARKER AND SON AVEST STRAND 
 
 MUCCCLVI
 
 
 INSCRIBED 
 
 TO 
 
 LORD DUFFERIN & CLANDEBOYE, 
 
 WITH FULL CONFIDENCE 
 
 IX 
 
 HIS FRIENDSHIP AND INDULGENCE. 
 
 ji.nccc.Lvi. 
 
 871517
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prelude 1 
 
 Capri (Midsummer) 3 
 
 Two Night Visions of Capri 
 
 I. The Salto .9 
 
 II. Monte san Mich^le le Camekelle . 15 
 
 Peace and War (1853) 33 
 
 Greek Fire at Sinope 43 
 
 The Neglected Poet 55 
 
 A Vision raised by Music 62 
 
 Fountain, Brook and Canal 64 
 
 Posthumous Fame 66 
 
 A Dead Knight 67 
 
 Brook and Waterfall 68 
 
 The Electric Telegraph "2 
 
 Farewell, Sixteen! "5 
 
 A Mile op Heather '7 
 
 Church-yard Reminiscences 79 
 
 Capri. — Strophe, Antistrophe .... 85 
 
 The Heathen Tomb 88 
 
 The Dead Priest 90 
 
 Death or Bereavement 93 
 
 Bionda , . 95 
 
 Side by Side 96 
 
 Capri, (Spring) 98 
 
 Pain 99
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 r.\f!E 
 
 RoRN Blind 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 Long- LOST Brotheu 
 
 
 
 
 101 
 
 Desolation 
 
 
 
 
 102 
 
 Despair not 
 
 
 
 
 105 
 
 The Poacher's Rejiorse . 
 
 
 
 
 106 
 
 Ppogress and Change 
 
 
 
 
 108 
 
 The Temptkess Death 
 
 
 
 
 110 
 
 A DTiNG Atheist .... 
 
 
 
 
 111 
 
 Not Yet 
 
 
 
 
 112 
 
 News from Genoa .... 
 
 
 
 
 11.3 
 
 Last Thoughts 
 
 
 
 
 115 
 
 Wait! 
 
 
 
 
 116 
 
 A Meeting .... 
 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 Vanity Fair .... 
 
 
 
 
 119 
 
 Disappointment .... 
 
 
 
 
 . 120 
 
 Late for a Christmas Dinner 
 
 
 
 
 . 122 
 
 Home 
 
 
 
 
 . 12.3 
 
 To A Child touturing a Bird of 
 
 Pass. 
 
 \GE 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 Evening 
 
 
 
 
 . 127 
 
 The Foet 
 
 
 
 
 . 129 
 
 The Bridal Hour 
 
 
 
 
 . 130 
 
 A Winter Night 
 
 
 
 
 . 1.32 
 
 Changes 
 
 
 
 
 . 135 
 
 F. G. — A Death in the Crimea 
 
 
 
 
 . 137 
 
 C. M. S. — A Death at Florence 
 
 
 
 
 . 141 
 
 L'Envoi 
 
 
 
 
 . 151
 
 PINOCCHI. 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 Unhooding every dearest thought, 
 I let these verses boldly fly, — 
 As falconers, in the fretted sky. 
 
 Where other hawks have nobly fought. 
 
 Throw up their favourite, — with a smile 
 Of fondness, nor without a last 
 Caress, for thoughts to distance cast 
 
 Will never answer lure or wile, — 
 
 To where, with rough crest and arched wing, 
 Fair Capri * like a lonely hern 
 Watches the waves, that bluely burn 
 
 And lurid tufts of fire-surge fling. 
 
 * Capri is a rocky but fertile island, at the mouth of the 
 Bay of Naples, about seven miles long, and from three to 
 five bi-oad, with 3000 inhabitants. In it Tiberius passed the 
 last eleven years of his life. 
 
 B
 
 PKELUDE. 
 
 It will delight a gentle soul. 
 
 If ye dare crj' " A noble flight!" 
 But if ye deem mine a base kite. 
 
 There are more hawks upon the pole: 
 
 Stx'ong wings, clear eyes, to glad the age; 
 I '11 perch my favourite on my wrist, 
 His jesses scarce flung off retwist. 
 
 And bear him to his darkened cage.
 
 CAPRT. 
 
 IHitisiimmrr. 
 
 Think you, fair Isle, though far removed 
 I have forgot your chffs of ore, 
 Your glassy depths and fragrant shore, 
 
 O eye of islets that I loved? 
 
 E'en now I see the plain-like deep, 
 Where couchant as a stately pard, 
 With gules and yellow quaintly barred, 
 
 You're stretched in softly-gleaming sleep. 
 
 From molten depths of azure steel. 
 
 They rise, prserupt and devious heights, 
 With zigzag shadows, zigzag lights. 
 
 Grots that with crannied echoes peal. 
 
 And portals filled with circling mist ; 
 First at the base the fluted lime 
 Fast rooted in the clustering slime, 
 
 (As quaint cathedral pillars twist,)
 
 CAPRI. 
 
 Throws up huge columns richly chased 
 By time, and rouged by winter- rain ; 
 Unchiselled wealth, great nature's fane, 
 
 With samphire-studs and ivy faced. 
 
 Then canopied and teut-like crowns. 
 Or castellated peaks arise, 
 In the blue dome of cloudless skies, 
 
 Till 'bove lai-k-flight Solare frowns.^ 
 
 Full thuribles of incense steam 
 
 From balmy shrub and fainting flower, 
 To grace the fierce sun's purple power ; 
 
 And adder-grass drops venom-cream.^ 
 
 2 
 
 Green ramparts wreathe the gem-shaped hill 
 With peach and almond, plum and pear, 
 And vines that lustrous globes do bear. 
 
 And orange groves that sweetly fill 
 
 The air with a faint sense of rest ; 
 
 And lemons with their thick white bloom ; 
 
 There clatters the maid's busy loom, 
 And songs roll from the valley's crest. 
 
 ' Monte Solaie, the highest point of the idand, rises 2000 
 feet above the sea. 
 
 - Many curious plants arc found. For a list see Mangonis 
 • Ricerche.'
 
 CAPRI. 
 
 Beneath, fantastic rocks are strown, 
 With arching crags and eyelike holes ; 
 White threshing-floors and netting-poles. 
 
 Gleam by the straw-hut's plaited cone. 
 
 The whispering slope is rife with shrubs 
 Of perfume rare and rarest grace ; 
 Balm, rue, and wild thyme interlace ; 
 
 Jove's-beard ^ each chin-shaped boulder rubs. 
 
 Here the gulf-skimming ospreys rave, 
 Here speckled quails with bugle eye 
 Pipe, snugly nestling, — hoopoes fly. 
 
 Proud of the crown the wise king gave. 
 
 The bald path steams like shaven friar 
 
 Beneath the domineering rays ; 
 
 Snakes, crawling out, die in the daze. 
 Cicalas* thrill within each briar. 
 
 The little lizards pant and dart. 
 
 Their soft chain-armour glitters far ; 
 Each broad leaf seems to hold a star ; 
 
 Each fig drops honey from its heart. 
 
 ^ Barba Jovis, a parasitical herb. 
 
 * A sort of cricket, abounding in hot climates.
 
 CAPKI. 
 
 We scarcely dare to draw a breath. 
 Or give a cry, the air's so clear, 
 So sultry, yet so subtle, near 
 
 Seems each tuft of the distant heath. 
 
 O crystal air, O breezeless palm,^ 
 O golden bath of sun -shine, crack 
 And burst with storm and loudly rack 
 
 Your depths. — This is a painted calm. 
 
 The repercussion of the pulse,^ 
 
 The clock-work of the leafy wings, 
 The lark unseen that loudly sings. 
 
 Air sweet and heady as hot mulse ; 
 
 Cliffs that jut out from distant shores, 
 Bare blades girt to the hill's fore thigh, 
 Glass films that ripple to the sky,^ 
 
 Through red-hot ruins' azure pores; 
 
 And gossamer lines that float about 
 The sea, a base of burnished brass. 
 Round which the beetle barques do pass ; 
 
 The echo louder than the shout ; 
 
 ■' The palm grows in Italy, but its fruit never ripens. 
 *^ The stillness and heat of mid-day are remarkable; 
 and peasants, retiring into their houses, take their siesta. 
 ' An atmospheric effect, caused by great heat.
 
 CAPRI. 7 
 
 Rocks honeycombed, the cells distinct, 
 Lapped by dead wavelets soft and few, — 
 Where sea-grapes clamber to the view ^ 
 
 Beneath cool shore-bands emerald-tinct, 
 
 Now black, now opal-toucht, that gleam 
 Like a dew-worm's moss-scouring coils, 
 With iridescent flakes and foils. 
 
 As the breeze shatters the bright dream. 
 
 And shadows that like congers wait, 
 
 'Neath huge stone spandrils wreathe and creep; 
 
 Rock-birds that sidle up the steep. 
 And myrtles with dark clustering freight. 
 
 And diamond threads that in the sun. 
 Twisting a hauberk wavy-bright. 
 Plait in and out their chainwork white. 
 
 As from the chalky strand they run. 
 
 And milky ways of bubbles swift, 
 
 That glitter where the oar has pushed 
 Through bronzy depths, and sea-fruit crushed,9 
 
 That their unhusked red bosses lift. 
 
 * A species of sea-weed, 
 
 ^ Varieties of the sea-anemone, which cover tlie rucks at 
 the water-line.
 
 CAPKI. 
 
 The violet mists that sluggish crawl 
 Upon hill-bosoms forked with snow; 
 (As dew-beads on the blue plum grow. 
 
 Then, drunk with bloom and perfume, fall). 
 
 All this is wondrous to behold ; 
 
 But the dull veil falls not away 
 
 From these dim eyes, these hands of clay ; 
 And Fancy's forge grows black and cold. 
 
 It ill befell me when I twined 
 
 This russet wreath for Nature's brow. 
 No words I have — the knee I bow — 
 
 I may be speechless, but not blind.
 
 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPRI. 
 
 The Salto has a fearful frown, 
 
 Where, peering through frail masonrj. 
 Men drink deep of eternity. 
 
 Yet throw no more than glances down. 
 
 I crawled upon the giddy brim ; 
 
 The moon sat shivering, and blanched 
 To meet the hurrying clouds, and branched 
 
 From locust-trees the shadows grim.^ 
 
 O me 1 to think how thick they spun. 
 The mangled bodies eddying fast, 
 That into daggered depths were cast, — 
 
 Rocks daubed and fleshed steamed in the sun. 
 
 * A precipice on the east coast of Capri, 1,500 feet high, 
 on which are the ruins of the Villa Jovis, a favourite abode 
 of Tiberius, and whence his victims were thrown into the sea. 
 
 ''Locust-tree, — in Italian, " carrubo," — on the fruit of 
 which some suppose St. John Baptist to have fed. 
 
 B 5
 
 10 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CArUl. 
 
 Runlets were broached of victim blood. 
 While the drunk tyrant in his throne 
 Moved his thin lips, but not to moan, 
 
 Chewing of bloody thoughts the cud. 
 
 And scanned long flights of soft blue day. 
 Where what was healthy-pulsed of late 
 Sped circling with centupled weight 
 
 Down whirring as the stanyel's prey.^ 
 
 A darkling mirror was the sea. 
 
 That mocked the dwarfed and tumbled ball, 
 And lurked still gleaming for its fall. 
 
 To drench the sprinkled atomy. 
 
 Minions, like sharks, dashed to and fro,-^ 
 Gaping for morsels tjTant-tossed; 
 And racing rival foam-ways crossed. 
 
 Striving, the first, to aim a blow; 
 
 To stun the mashed and quivering head ; 
 
 To push the bubbling mass beneath ; 
 
 The smallest residue of breath. 
 Beneath pole axe and oar-blades fled! 
 
 * Stanyel, a sort of hawk. 
 
 * Slaves were posted below, for the purpose alluded to. 
 " Ne ciii residui spiritus quicquam iaesset." — Sueton.
 
 THE SALTO. 11 
 
 And was there no proud crested wave. 
 
 No earth-rifter to lift its head 
 
 Against the tyrant's robes of red, 
 No crater-stone to dig his grave ? 
 
 No bolt to pin this carrion-crow ? 
 
 O God of mercy and of love. 
 
 Was there no barbed light above 
 To cleave the monster's eager brow ? 
 
 Ages have shown grey beards to men, 
 And histories flitted o'er the glass 
 Of time : The wind combs out long grass 
 
 Where skeletons hung bleaching then. 
 
 Scents that might clothe a goddess, fill 
 The night-air ; myrtle, rosemary, balm, 
 Vainly our sickening senses calm. 
 
 The taint of murder haunts them still ! 
 
 Still, birds of prey that guard these stones 
 With shrieks at fancied quarries stoop; 
 StUl, phantom barques o'er dark waves troop, 
 
 Flashes the sm'ge — the bent bough groans. 
 
 Even now the ghosts of legions tall 
 Glide near me with distempered pace ; 
 As snow-flakes pelting in my face 
 
 Pass lingering o'er the mouldering wall.
 
 12 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAl'KI. 
 
 So spectral wings rush from the height. 
 But pause before they clothe the deep ; 
 They centre in one winged heap, 
 
 Then wake the gulfs green phosphor-light. ^ 
 
 And one I see, whose bright eyes roU,^ 
 One noble virgin — her smooth limbs 
 All torture-bruised and crushed — she cHmbs 
 
 The rough lips of this devil's bowl, 
 
 And shouts, " O tyrant, hast thou laught 
 " To see my honour brave the wheel, 
 " My first bloom slashed with cruel steel ? — 
 
 " I care not for this bitter draught ! 
 
 " For as I stand and gaze below, 
 
 " Dark death e 'en to the dregs I drain ; 
 " Thou canst not make me drink again, — 
 
 " This, the annihilating blow !" 
 
 And last, when all have sunk to sleep. 
 One stalking phantom lures me on ; 
 The moon shines not as it hath shone, 
 
 Who is 't that peers into the deep ? 
 
 ^ Tliu waters of the Gulf of Naples are remarkably 
 phosphorescent. At night, wherever a wave breaks, light 
 is seen. 
 
 * A local tradi 
 
 tioii.
 
 THE SALTO. 13 
 
 Long elf-hair ripples down his neck; 
 
 The hand, that with one touch could crush 
 His fellow's head,'' is clenching — Hush ! 
 
 None dare to disobey his beck. 
 
 'T is he that drank wine in his youth. 
 But life-blood in old age — the snake, 
 Augustus -bosomed, that did shake 
 
 And freeze the veins of all the South. 
 
 I see him, yet nor shrink nor shout, 
 He smiles a hundred- wrinkled storm, 
 And stirs his gaunt and sin-bent form, 
 
 And sweeps his ample robes about. 
 
 I dare not move, nor curse, nor shout ; 
 
 He, born beside the Tiber, stands 
 
 Before my gaze, and yet the sands 
 Of my dull life are not run out ! 
 
 One wave of that o'er-deadly arm 
 To show the myriad graves he filled, 
 To show the treasured heaps he spilled, 
 
 To build his pleasure, and men's harm. 
 
 7 Suetonius states of Tiberius, among other personal pe- 
 culiarities, that his hair grew far down his neck, and that his 
 fingers were so strong that with a fillip he would break tlie 
 head of a boy, or even of an adolescent.
 
 14 TWO MIGHT VISIONS OF CAPKl. 
 
 One glitter of that pard-like eye. 
 
 That flash, that even darkness daunts,^ 
 To number all his secret haunts. 
 
 Stone fetches, marble incubi. 
 
 Then with a stride of majesty 
 
 He sinks into the chasm dread ; 
 
 The moon lights, as he turns his head, 
 Titanic smiles of cruelty ! 
 
 * " Cum prse grandibus oculis ut qui, quod niirum esset, 
 noctu etiam et in tenebris videreut, sed ad bi-eve et quuui 
 primum a somno patuisseut, delude rursum hebescebant," 
 etc. — Suetonius.
 
 SAN inCIIyELE LE CAMERELLE. 
 
 II. 
 
 £B.antc San iJHirijak, ILe ffiamercllc' 
 
 I RAN beneath St. Michael's flank ; 
 
 The spray-hawk mocked, the wind uprose. 
 And staggered me with phantom blows ; 
 
 Clouds passed and knelt in courtier rank. 
 
 But the still moon, unbent, superb, 
 Shewed a fair front to all their pride. 
 While gauze-wrapt beauties rushing vied 
 
 Their neighbour's glistering haste to curb. 
 
 O queenly orb, ne'er look askance, 
 Nor for a space thy glories veil, 
 But placid, holy, onwards sail, 
 
 And shield me with thy countenance. 
 
 Angel of Might, my frail steps guide ! 
 
 It is a spot all serious 
 
 And dread ; for here Tiberius, 
 Self-prisoned in the mountain's side. 
 
 ' In this hill are excavated one hundred subterraneous 
 chambers, in which the emperor established a sort of College 
 of Vice. — See Suetonius.
 
 IG TWO KIGIIT VISION'S OF CAPRI. 
 
 Sank deep in soft-spun luxury, 
 
 Midst heaps of gaudj glittering gold ; 
 Or glared, in heavy chariots rolled. 
 
 On mad debauch, cold butchery. 
 
 I thirsted for a wholesome force 
 
 To chase the memories of that place; 
 The nectar-lips, — the victim-trace. 
 
 Perfumes of Ind, and taint of cor'se. 
 
 Wind-sprinkled olive-stones have raised 
 A copse of wrinkled dwarfs around 
 The ruin-threaded dreary mound, 
 
 Who scowl at fertile sires amazed ; 
 
 Wildly thro' mossringed clefts they run ; 
 Drained is the sap of centuries. 
 Their still-born fruit in summer dies 
 
 Beneath a furnace-breathing sun. 
 
 'tD 
 
 The impatient germ, (for ages pushed 
 To fight with air soft sheathed in down). 
 Shrinks to a knot 'neath Nature's frown. 
 
 By hardier fungus yearly crushed. 
 
 Pale mother- olives wring their leaves 
 To see such imps before them stand ; 
 The ruins gape with ogrish band 
 
 Of shattered teeth and weed-lipped eaves
 
 SAN MICHiELE LE CAIIERELLE. 17 
 
 Above the corridor of guilt, 
 
 Vines spired, and darkling violets blew ; 
 
 Imperial steeds the gemmed wheels drew 
 Around this flat when first 'twas built. 
 
 Still fui'ther, a dismantled tower 
 
 The herb with fresher ruin stains; 
 
 A tesselated road remains 
 To attest the tyrant's sumptuous power. 
 
 He bored through heights, hung marble grots 
 In the ear-lobes of mountains steep, 
 And arched the shallows of the deep,^ 
 
 Where shells now cling and wrecked wood rots. 
 
 Moody I paced the vineyard scant : 
 O man, thou canst veil o'er old state. 
 But canst thou halls obliterate 
 
 Where Murder shrieked, where Lust did pant? 
 
 The earth rings hollowly above : 
 
 A night-mare couched in dreamer's heart 
 Were not thrown off with gladder start, 
 
 Than what's beneath, if earth could move ! 
 
 - The port built by the Eomans on the south side 
 of the island is now a ruin half washed away, and the 
 only tolerable landing place is on the north side, opposite 
 Naples.
 
 18 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPRI. 
 
 Lo, coiled as a great venom-worm, 
 A hundred chambers' arches knit, 
 A hundred shadows shuddering sit, 
 
 In cells where loathsome creepers germ. 
 
 Huge vine-roots pierce the bleeding dome, 
 And, twisting snaky fingers, clasp 
 The green mould-hair that soils their grasp ; 
 
 In crumbled marble veins their home. 
 
 Old dripping stones of battered pink. 
 Faint frescoes from the moist wall wiped 
 By Time, and hme-sticks crystal-piped. 
 
 And drops that through dank mosses sink. 
 
 In sooth it is a corridor 
 
 To damp the fancies of most men. 
 To fi:'eeze the dimly wandering pen. 
 
 And clothe with mould bright Fancy's store. 
 
 The dark mouth of these chambers seemed 
 To gape for me ; I braved the stream 
 Of vapours, with the pure moon-beam. 
 
 And plunged within, (or else I dreamed). 
 
 And crossed with noiseless steps the first 
 Of these foul Spintriee,^ where the fame 
 Still rests of many a cunning shame. 
 
 And many a group of crime accurst. 
 
 ^ Infamous haunts.— Vide Sueton. et infra.
 
 SAN iUCHiELE LE CAIIERELLE. 19 
 
 In secret bowers here he lay; 
 
 And knotted his lasciviousness. 
 
 As children cowslip-garlands dress. 
 In cool depths shielded from the day. 
 
 Here he, whom seas would never cleanse, 
 Wallowed in perfume-baths and slept ; 
 He at whose nod whole thousands leapt 
 
 To death, sought slumber in these dens. 
 
 While Pgestan attar round him swam. 
 
 And precious unguents from gold throats 
 Gurgled, he pondered on great floats 
 
 Of blood, and how to smite the lamb 
 
 Of innocence : while houris trooped 
 Before his eyes, he planned his hate ; 
 Virgins by headsman violate, 
 
 Attest that not in vain he swooped. 
 
 From room to room, thick-walled and strong, 
 Rarely the moon slants from above, 
 Rarely from deep side-pierced alcove. 
 
 Drops muttered as I passed along : 
 
 And horror lent her serpent-bite ; 
 
 Rarely the moon slants through the side 
 (By breaches few that ope not wide). 
 
 And makes pale pyramids of light.
 
 20 TWO NIGHT VISIONS 01" CAPKI. 
 
 Rarely the whispering myrtle-boughs. 
 
 Stretching their perfume through deep pores, 
 Make mouths upon the clayey floors. 
 
 While the choked night-breeze dips and soughs. 
 
 From room to room thick-walled and strong, 
 Stretches the lair; herein was franked"* 
 The Boar; here wine with women ranked, 
 
 And subtle Greeks woke dance and song. 
 
 For other names, men in default. 
 These SpintricE and Sellaria named, 
 Here Infamy herself outshamed. 
 
 Woke echoes in the foul-ribbed vault. 
 
 Here men drank deep for death, — not thirst, — 
 Notorious crime to heaven did ring. 
 And multifold longsuffering 
 
 Prayed vainly that the walls might burst. 
 
 Woe's me ! I see them now ; the slave 
 Dashes the stone jar at their throats. 
 Then o'er the shuddering body gloats, 
 
 Soon thrust into a leprous grave. 
 
 A maiden pure may not be slain ; 
 
 His prey the murderer first deflowers ! 
 
 A huddled wretch she weeps and cowers. 
 Till on sharp hooks they rive her brain. 
 ■* FiUtenud.
 
 SAN MICHiELE LE CAMEhELLE. 21 
 
 The priest defiled is dragged to deatli,^ 
 
 The piper waits with ready choir; 
 
 The censer gleams with ruddy fire, — 
 He ne'er shall spread the incense-breath. 
 
 IjO, as I mused, there rose awhile 
 
 A hum and muttering of broad wheels ; 
 And laughter-chimes and cymbal-peals 
 
 Came rumbling o'er the aged pile. 
 
 A bright glimpse thro' the cracked dome fled 
 Of gold and lights and purpled urn ; 
 Maids that trail fruit and garlands spurn, 
 
 And One who silent wrapped his head 
 
 Nor looked upon his festive train 
 
 For very hate and misery. 
 
 But shrank beneath the canopy. 
 As though he were half choked with pain. 
 
 But these grew faint; — and then I heard 
 The breath of one who is pursued 
 Down the steep hollows, marble-thewed. 
 
 Yet passing lightly as a bird. 
 
 Nearer it swept the myille leaves 
 
 With tinkle of hushed tambourine; 
 
 Then something pearly white and sheen, 
 With echoing pulse, and breast that heaves, 
 
 Sec Suetonius for this horrible story.
 
 22 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPRI. 
 
 Stole through a crevice, ivy-braced; 
 And springing Hghtly on the floor, 
 Through rows of close arched portals tore 
 
 And broke the moonshine as it paced. 
 
 A fairy form, but all distraught, 
 
 With short unequal steps she came; 
 To fly from her I thought it shame, 
 
 But at the dripping stones I caught. 
 
 At length she stood her by my side 
 With eyes that flashed the ancient fire, 
 And lips stung with a Greek's desire, 
 
 Tresses that with the hyacinth vied; 
 
 A flush like May-bloom lit her cheek. 
 Armlets and anklets of soft gold 
 Were twined about the ivory fold 
 
 Of her slight limbs so supple sleek ; 
 
 Her dress of silken Pinna gauze, 
 
 Like wavelets on a smooth white beach, 
 Glimmered translucent in my reach: 
 
 With tottering feet she made a pause. 
 
 Something so rare, so rife, and fresh, 
 
 Crowned her orbed bosom's hurried strife, 
 Glozed her disparted lips' red life. 
 
 Danced in jet tresses' spangled mesh.
 
 SAN mCH.ELE LE CAMERELLE. 23 
 
 Had she not worn an antique air 
 I 'd not have taxed the spirit-world 
 For her sweet presence ; doubt I hurled 
 
 To common souls who do not dare 
 
 To encounter spirits. I stood wrapt 
 With leaden front and veins of steel; 
 Bewitched; and felt my senses reel 
 
 In a strange world of beauty lapt. 
 
 At length I broke the dazing spell, 
 And, stirring feet benumbed, essayed 
 To glide before her in the shade. 
 
 But looking back, I tripped and fell. 
 
 Now when she saw a mortal pass. 
 
 Her pale arms round her head did float, 
 A faint wail bubbled from her throat, 
 
 And her eyes grew transparent glass. 
 
 Then, clinging to a gnarled vine-root 
 That veined the thick and slimy wall, 
 While round her crumbs of ruin fall. 
 
 She lifts her voice and stamps her foot. 
 
 '' This ruin, desolate as it seems, 
 " Held crowded beauty in its caves, 
 " Once luxury floated on these waves, 
 
 " This isle was tinged with pleasure-dreams.
 
 24 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPRI. 
 
 " I was a Greek of noble stock, 
 
 " My youth burnt with lascivious rage ; 
 '' The tyrant loved my unripe age, 
 
 " And brought me to this poisoned rock. 
 
 " Yet as I mark your pitying eyes, — 
 (" The coupled eagles of your thought, 
 " Wonder, and love, that might be taught 
 
 "To circle proudlier to the skies,) 
 
 " I wish that I might live again 
 
 " To fold thee like some choice spring-flower, 
 " If 'twere l^ut for one golden hour, 
 
 " To a poor heart that loved in vain. 
 
 *' I burn, I pine, death seems a trance, 
 '' I long to wake tlie cithern's nerves 
 " And flutter swift in transient curves 
 
 " Through the lost measures of our dance.^ 
 
 ' ' O living form ! human face ! 
 " My beauty is all stingless now, 
 " Fear not the lustre of my brow 
 
 " Nor shudder at a spirit's grace. 
 
 * The " tarascone," a variety of the tarantella peculiar to 
 the island, is said to preserve something of the character rjf 
 the ancient Greek <hinccs.
 
 SAN MICH^LE LE CAMERELLE. 25 
 
 '* Thus must we wander meaningless, 
 
 " Through noyous shades of ghastly night, 
 "Repeating scenes of vain delight, 
 
 " Chase dead leaves, hueless clusters press. 
 
 " Mark now the horrors I unveil; 
 " A fresh and fair and stainless day 
 " Slept on the budding breast of May ; 
 
 " Like moth's wings the soft spreading sail 
 
 '* Hustled across the Siren bay; 7 
 
 " The old Greek fire rose in my brain 
 
 " And thoughts flashed quick as lava-rain ; 
 
 " Midst squandered fruits and flowers I lay 
 
 '* And pondered o'er a magic word — 
 
 " Freedom! I loathed the chains thick -gemmed, 
 " And longed to mount the bark that stemmed 
 
 "The gentle wavelets' silvery sword. 
 
 " The tyrant bent from blooming throne ; 
 
 " ' What thought was it,' he sneered, 'that arched 
 " 'Thy lips.?' A thousand Spartans marched 
 
 " To death in one short smile alone. 
 
 " ' What thought, that as a funeral torch. 
 
 -t!) 
 
 " ' Waked lurking beams of adamant : 
 " ' Fires seldom from those dark orbs slant, 
 " ' Take heed lest harmless flowers they scorch. 
 
 ' The Siren rocks are seen from Capri. 
 c
 
 26 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPEI. 
 
 " ' Art thou aweary of our state 
 " ' Lotisma, fairest of the Greeks ? 
 " • Leaps angry flush to maidens' cheeks 
 
 '" When they are favoured by the great?' — 
 
 " Accursed cunning, thus to dive 
 " And win my secret in its shell ! 
 " I could not rein my bosom's swell 
 
 " Nor honeyed thoughts of Freedom hive. ^ 
 
 " I could not lie ; I could not smooth 
 " Into content my fretted brow ; 
 " Nor stifle back the conscious glow, 
 
 " Nor still Regret's sharp venom-tooth. 
 
 " A violent sob burst from my soul ; 
 
 " The mirror dulled with sudden breath ; 
 
 " 'Tyrant! or Liberty, or Death!' — 
 " Twas spoken. — As the waves that roll 
 
 " From a stern rock's heaven-targed height, 
 " In shattered tinsel and foam-dust, — 
 " As children that in sportive trust 
 
 " Have smit a blood-hound, in affright 
 
 " Watch his green eyes and bristling neck,— 
 " The rising thunder of his growl, — 
 " So shook I 'neath his ample scowl. 
 
 " So was I silent at his beck !
 
 SAN MICH^ELE LE CAMERELLF., 27 
 
 " liong time I waited for my doom 
 
 " To issue from his pale thin lips ; 
 
 " He seemed to wreck the winged ships, 
 " He seemed to wither up all bloom ; 
 
 " To cast a net of darkling rage, 
 
 " Webbed cere-cloths, sable palls of woe, 
 " Around Creation's sunny glow ; 
 
 " His silence seemed to me an age. 
 
 " At length the pent volcano burst ! 
 " ' Doth no one love me ? Be content 
 " ' Maiden,' he said, ' my rage was spent 
 
 " ' Or ere I spoke ; ' (the tones accurst 
 
 " Crisped like an adder in mine ear), 
 
 " ' Thou hast been frank, — so, in despite 
 " ' Of this thy insolence to night, 
 
 " ' Thou shall be free, and of good cheer.' 
 
 "That night, the first among his maids, 
 " Fettered with roses (such his will) 
 " I laughed aloud and danced my fill, 
 
 " Before his car- wheels' studded blades ; 
 
 " The Chian wine had fired our veins; 
 " With sparkling eyes and vermeil flush, 
 " With zoneless tunic's sportive rush, 
 
 " We mocked the music's prudish strains !
 
 28 TWO NIGHT VISIONS AT CAPRI. 
 
 " Like blossoms Zephyr-spun, we sped 
 
 " In clusters 'long the smooth broad way;*^ 
 " There was no want of roundelay, 
 
 " To quicken pulse or aery tread. 
 
 " And ever as we clove the air 
 
 " With perfumed locks and glistering bloom 
 " Streaming athwart the infant gloom, 
 
 " The tyrant shouted from his car — 
 
 " ' Lotisma, fairest freest dame, 
 
 " ' Brave Spartan lotus, thou shalt be 
 " ' The queen to night of Liberty ; 
 
 " ' Thy feet let not those garlands lame.' 
 
 " I thought upon the merry past ; 
 
 " And how he once was fair to see, 
 
 " Fonder of arms than revelry, 
 "And how he graced the trumpet blast, 
 
 " My craven heart began to thaw 
 
 " As icicles beneath the sun ; 
 
 " The noisy dance I fain would shun, 
 " The garlands I forgot to draw. 
 
 ' From the remains in this islai.d, and at Pompeii, a tes- 
 selated inclined plane seems frequently to have been used, in 
 place of steps, in the ancient Roman palaces and gardens.
 
 SAN mCH^LE LE CAMERELLE. 29 
 
 " Then sudden — fiercely — 'bove the strain 
 
 " Of tibias and huddled strife, 
 
 " His pale lips shrieked, — ' Ho! on your life, 
 " ' Seize her and bind with heavier chain ; 
 
 " ' And in the darkest cavern's womb 
 
 " ' (There from her dear-loved Grecia torn 
 " ' In honied Doric she may mourn) 
 
 " ' Let her pine out a living tomb !' 
 
 '' I heard, — and knew the fatal smile ; 
 "And, bounding from my frighted peers, 
 "I flew, with mercury- winged fears, 
 
 "Within this many-arched pile. 
 
 " In vain — full many an ell beneath 
 " In souterrain of weeping rock 
 " I heard the wild waves' distant shock, 
 
 " And made fantastic mouths at death. 
 
 " With wasting flesh and straight-laced limbs, 
 "Like a winged bird half-petrified, 
 " For many days I sobbed and cried, — 
 
 " But no foot to my prison climbs ! 
 
 " Madly with phosphor-imps I danced ; 
 
 " And fondly counted the rock's scars ; 
 
 " Thundered the distant rumbling cars, 
 " And restive steeds o'er hollows pranced.
 
 30 TWO NIGHT VISIONS AT CAPRI. 
 
 " Rescue seemed near, with flattering foot ; 
 
 " Hope seemed to clamour in my ear; 
 
 " Nought — 't was the bellowing of the steer, 
 " Or creaking of some ivy- root ! 
 
 " The cold drops ate into ray head — 
 " I furbished up my fetters dulled — 
 " And from the dank clefts, fern-horns pulled — 
 
 " And on the crankling snail-shells fed — 
 
 " And scared the lizard with dread mirth. — 
 " And yet I knew, as I lay there 
 " A maniac throbbing with despair — 
 
 "How golden streams and bush-green earth 
 
 " Clothed the thick rock's resistless shell; 
 
 " How the rathe wild-flowers tossed their dew ; 
 
 " How a great dome of turquoise blue 
 " Clasped brimming lark and lemoned dell ! 
 
 " And whiles would steal in tremblingly 
 " The last notes from some Doric choir, — 
 " Then would I of my durance tire, 
 
 " And wake the echoes piercingly! 
 
 " From hour to hour more crushed and spent, 
 " The night-breeze blew me up and down 
 " Like web-leaves on the whirlwind strewn, 
 
 " Shrunk to a pigmy ligament.
 
 SAN MICHiELE LE CAIIEUELLE. 31 
 
 " From hour to hour more shrunk and spent, 
 " My rattling heap of hones I laid 
 " Upon the earth, and fervent prayed 
 
 " Might hut the earth's huge palm be bent 
 
 " To crush me; as the foam is crushed 
 " Between two ships that lordly ride — 
 " One blindly shears the stout broadside, 
 
 " In one abysmal prayers are hushed. 
 
 " Thou shudderest — but if thou hadst seen 
 " A loathsome fresco on the base, 9 
 (" The which Death's master-hand did trace) 
 
 "When I, — Lotisma, — the fair queen, — 
 
 " Diana-fronted, Juno-orbed — 
 
 " Youth's flushest rose, — with rust-ringed bones, 
 " Accreted to shell-crusted stones, — 
 
 " In creeping frosts was slow absorbed; 
 
 " And grew incorporate with the lime, 
 
 " Aye, stained with ghostly streaming hues 
 " The chalky mountain's plastic thews, 
 
 " Incrinite with distempered rime ; 
 
 ^ In the case of a female buried in the destruction of 
 Pompeii, the boiling mud and immice-dust had taken a per- 
 fect cast of the bosom and part of the face, which is preserved 
 in the museum at Naples. The rocks at Capri are limestone, 
 and the waters that trickle through them are charged with 
 that deposit which produces stalactites, etc.
 
 32 
 
 TWO NIGHT VISIONS OF CAPRI. 
 
 " While worms and snakes cast fossil coils 
 " Around the skull that erst was wound 
 " With IJebe clusters azure-bound, 
 
 " And crowned with buds and golden spoils ; 
 
 " Then,— but thou seemest like to swoon, 
 " The light from thy sick eyes is drawn, 
 " Soon comes the over-hastening dawn, 
 
 " The cumbrous night will vanish soon. 
 
 " Then farewell, poet, thou shalt sing 
 
 " My wrongs." She kissed me on the brow. 
 Cold were her lips, while mine did glow 
 
 Like odes that ancient love-thoughts brino-. 
 
 "But," — and she staggered back from me 
 And clung again to the gnarled vine, — 
 " Let not thy heart for vain things pine, 
 
 " Nor melt before pale luxury. 
 
 " By sinful lust Tiberius fell ; 
 " Beware of lust, for it is this 
 " Wakes after death the serpent-hiss, 
 
 " Floods worlds with blood, adds pains to hell." 
 
 I crossed myself; and soon outstripped 
 The flight of the trainbearing clouds. 
 That trailed on earth dissolving shrouds. 
 
 Or, bending down, the night dew sipped.
 
 33 
 
 PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 1853. 
 
 Men said that War was driven out; 
 
 And pale Peace, crowned with fruitful palms, 
 Was carried victor, with glad psalms 
 
 And manly cheers, on shoulders stout. 
 
 That sacred Image, safe restored, — 
 
 All worshipped at the unlaurelled shrine ; 
 War's bloodstained wreaths we ceased to twine; 
 
 Peace was the Goddess we adored ! 
 
 Borne high aloft, with calm fixed gaze 
 She seemed to rule the eddying crowd; 
 With silver smile drank in the loud 
 
 Hosannas chaunted in her praise. 
 
 She was to step down from her throne, 
 And traverse all the chastened land; 
 With Royal touch and healing hand, 
 
 Making the feverish world her own. 
 
 All men, like Raleigh, were to spread 
 Embroidered vestments in the street. 
 For those processional fair feet, — 
 
 In homage to their Queenly tread ; 
 
 c 5
 
 34 PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 And out through fields she was to pass; 
 Where blushing clover scents the lea, — 
 Or harvest lifts its burnished sea, — 
 
 To bowers among the untrodden grass. 
 
 " Peace reigns!" The message found our minds 
 
 Credent, and full of holy fire ; 
 
 Her welcome chimed from many a spire, 
 And sweetly burthened sea-bound winds. 
 
 We stripped the liveried red and gold 
 From the puffed staggering bully. War; 
 And decked with many an argent star 
 
 Her heavenly robes of azure fold. 
 
 The world enshrined her in its heart; 
 Earth, it was said, should cease to taint 
 God's air with blood-streams foul and faint ; 
 
 Incense of Nature, and of Art, 
 
 Should float around all human things : 
 Round cottage trellis, — palace wall, — 
 And lingering in the sense of all. 
 
 Soothe the vexed mood of angry kings; 
 
 Bless the poor toil-worn artisan ; 
 
 Mock the now vacant watch and ward 
 Of stone-hewn forts, — whose grim regard 
 
 No coasting enemy could scan ;
 
 PEACE AND War. 35 
 
 While Nations interchanged with joy 
 
 Successful labour's various fruits ; 
 
 And music from Arcadian flutes 
 Sang sweet of brotherly employ. 
 
 " Peace reigns !" — O unfulfilled vain words ! 
 Murmurs like those from slumbering lips, 
 When love-dreams gild the night's eclipse ! 
 
 I wake, — and, lo ! the clash of swords, — 
 
 Lo ! journals scored with spurring print, — 
 And statesmen whirled by heady flood 
 Of patriot throngs who scent out blood, — 
 
 And "hearts of oak" grown hearts of flint. 
 
 Infectious courage hotly glows ; 
 
 Like beacons on the mountain's height 
 Each watch-fire breeds another light. 
 
 As the red summons onward goes : 
 
 And a bright Martyr-death to earn, — 
 For this, — even women's hearts may feel 
 Exultant midst the clash of steel, — 
 
 And fools may dare, and cowards burn ; 
 
 Much more, — called out in time of need. 
 Marshalled by names beloved and known, 
 And loyal to a welcome throne, — 
 
 Old England's lion-hearted breed.
 
 36 PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 But, for what Cause is lifted high 
 The Standard, that with silent fall 
 Hath long hung drooping on the wall, 
 
 Still waiting for such rallying cry ? 
 
 For whom, with fierce and desperate love. 
 Pledge we the sacred trust of life, 
 Cry " Rescue!" in this foreign strife, 
 
 And fling to earth our challenge-glove? 
 
 Who is the Victim, sore distrest, 
 Chivalrous England, gallant France, 
 For whom your champion troops advance- 
 
 Your lances quiver in the rest? 
 
 How strangely sounds the double league ! 
 And how confused the gain or loss 
 That blends the Crescent with the Cross, 
 
 True faith with mercantile intrigue ! 
 
 What if a man whose veins are snow. 
 Tramp on the turban of the slave ? 
 God shall fill fast the Russian's grave, 
 
 Yet God shall smite the Christian's foe. 
 
 Just is the Judgment of to-day, 
 For bloody deeds in former years ; 
 When Scio's wrongs and Scio's tears. 
 
 O'er English sympathy held sway.
 
 PEACE AND WAR. 37 
 
 Just is that horror from afar ; 
 
 (Although we shrink to hear the groan 
 
 That tells in stifled helpless tone, 
 Of massacre — and not of war.) 
 
 When Russian guns boomed o'er the flood, 
 Did not sad Grecia's ghosts arise. 
 And haunt, with faint forgotten cries, 
 
 The death-surge red with Turkish blood ? 
 
 The guilty past held Scio's spoils 
 
 Deep buried ; as some funeral cell 
 
 Keeps the grim leaden coffin shell, 
 Which Grief's vain longing sternly foils. 
 
 But hurling back the heavy lid. 
 
 We know past murderous events, 
 
 By the death spots and dagger rents 
 That wronged her ere her corse was hid. 
 
 The struggle of her agony 
 
 Dies festering now before my gaze; 
 
 The foulest butcher-deed of days 
 When Treason slaughtered Liberty I 
 
 Assassin -stabs deform her breast ; 
 
 Hacked with more wounds than brave men give — 
 (Whose flashing sword permits to live, 
 
 Or smites at once to honored rest).
 
 3iJ PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 Ruthless thy scymetar, proud Turk ! 
 
 Children, whose lives were but a day, 
 
 Beside their dying mothers lay, — 
 Ere glutted vengeance slacked its work. 
 
 And then ye bore to Heathen thrall. 
 Sad virgins wringing rosaried hands, 
 And boys, young exiles from the lands 
 
 Where ye had bid their fathers fall. 
 
 Over fair cities blackness came; 
 
 And wild birds fluttered in the street. 
 
 Forsaken by those captive feet. 
 And crumbled by devouring flame.* 
 
 But Scio is avenged at length ! 
 
 Her fate is yours ! The bitter throes 
 Of struggle brief with barbarous foes — 
 
 The helpless death — the conquered strength ! 
 
 Your fields are tilled ; — but harvest grain 
 Shall never blunt the reaping steel : 
 Crushed 'neath the soldier's death-blanched heel. 
 
 Your vintage shall be poured in vain. 
 
 * After the massacre at Scio, the town, much of whicli was 
 built of white marble, was burnt; and, in 1828, some travel- 
 lers started a covey of partridges in the principal street.
 
 PEACE AND WAR 39 
 
 Your corn shall rot, — your fruit shall fall, — 
 The hands be stiff should knot your sheaves, — 
 The voices mute that stalled your beeves, — 
 
 Choked, the boy-shepherd's madrigal ! 
 
 Because, in Scio's time of tears, 
 
 Her children's blood was poured like wine ; 
 
 And deeds are kept by wrath Divine 
 Done in the unatoned-for years ! 
 
 O Isles of Greece ! — sweet Isles of Greece — 
 
 Ye were the last note on the lyre, 
 
 Of him whose soul of cloud and fire 
 Laboured with zeal for your release. 
 
 Self-exiled in his angry mood, 
 
 The wayward heart — the spirit high — 
 The restless brain — must strive or die ; 
 
 But o'er the sweltering northern flood, 
 
 His music floated back to Fame ; 
 
 The echo of whose trumpet-breath 
 
 (Like music at an Indian death) 
 Stifled the weaker sounds of blame. 
 
 That Lute — with chords so loud and strong — 
 
 Is silent : broken are the strings : 
 
 But deem we Grecia's suff'erings 
 A fancy-theme for Byron's song ?
 
 40 PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 O twin Armadas ! floating by ! 
 
 Ocean's white falcon brood, — forbear 
 This cause of quarrel ; though ye dare 
 
 The Northern Eagle's conquering eye. 
 
 Leave the fierce Pagan to his fate. 
 The hunted Leopard is at bay. 
 Let not the Lion share the fray ; 
 
 'Tis doom — deserved, though sent so late. 
 
 The giant Power of Europe's awe 
 Is but the instrument of Heaven, 
 To whom a moment's strength is given 
 
 To execute a higher law. 
 
 God, who calls back the rollmg seas, 
 Nor lets the waters overwhelm. 
 Shall guide to loss his boastful helm, 
 
 And thin his armies with disease. 
 
 Already dull deliberate death 
 
 Eats out the strength of victor hearts ; 
 
 Slow, in the hospital, departs 
 The wasted life — the weary breath. 
 
 And till a holier cause shall claim 
 
 Our arms, — than theirs who treat us still 
 As " Christian Dogs"* oppressed at will, 
 
 Proving alliance but a name, - 
 
 * The testimony of Christians is not received in Turkish 
 Courts of Law.
 
 PEACE AND WAR. 41 
 
 Let Peace be still Old England's boast ; 
 
 And keep her flag of truce, unfurled 
 
 So proudly to the wondering world, 
 White as the cliffs that guard our coast ! 
 
 Lo ! as I write, a bitter moan 
 
 Foretells the horrors that shall leap 
 
 With alien swords, in gore to steep 
 Our liberal hands, our candid throne ! 
 
 Peace mourns in her forsaken fane, — 
 The hymns of gladness die away, — 
 The laughing children leave their play. 
 
 And grey-haired sires lament in vain. 
 
 Sad sighs thrill up the myrtle steep ; 
 
 The falcon shrieks and wheels aloft ; 
 
 Hushed is the sweet, forgot the soft. 
 And forth the assassin shadows creep. 
 
 War is amongst the nations ! War ! 
 
 With cataract din, its ruin comes ; 
 
 And men march forth from northern homes 
 Whose graves shall be in lands afar. 
 
 Fate lifts the weapon in her hand. 
 
 Shall strike fair Commerce at the root ; 
 Wither the bud, and nip the shoot. 
 
 And strew the earth with barren sand.
 
 42 PEACE AND WAR. 
 
 The fair-spun glories of the loom, — 
 The quiet hush of altar prayers, — 
 The rural tasks, — the city wares, — 
 
 All vanish in the coming doom ! 
 
 War is amongst us ! War, for those 
 Who gave us wounds yet scarcely healed 
 Yea, in their service we may wield 
 
 Weapons that struck them once as foes. 
 
 Our Poor shall pine with stinted bread ; 
 Our Merchants pause at every turn 
 Despotic Russia's will to learn. 
 
 And Enterprise lie faint and dead. 
 
 And yet a heavier chain we drag, — 
 Since, all to check this Eagle's swoop. 
 Our Christian England's neck must stoop 
 
 To march beneath the Turkish Flag !
 
 43 
 
 GREEK FIRE AT SINOPE. 
 
 Sunsljiuc at (Captt (1854). 
 
 Speed, ancient fire of vengeance, climb, 
 Greek Fire of Vengeance ! Featly spread, 
 And subtly flame above each head. 
 
 And tear their war-ships limb by limb ! 
 
 In vain the bravery, high mast-nailed ; 
 In vain the clamour purple-gorged, 
 For fev?, dull prison-chains are forged. 
 
 For few, swift rescue shall have sailed. 
 
 A curse is on their patriot blades ; 
 
 A curse is on their generous blood ; 
 
 Their bodies are but carrion food, — 
 Their souls but pale and flying shades. 
 
 A fatal spirit knots the smoke, 
 
 Makes deeper wounds and redder fire, — 
 Rings sea-kneUs from each ropy spire. 
 
 So soon in blackening waves to soak. 
 
 Like snow that shifts from garden-rails, — 
 Like the wild swan that nears the ground 
 With pulseless feathers eddying round, 
 
 Down fall the lifeless shredded sails.
 
 44 GREEK FIRE AT SINOPE. 
 
 As when a fruit- clad continent, 
 
 By slumbering Cyclops long time spared. 
 That with bright orchards has out-stared 
 
 The plumbless depths, sinks lava-sprent ; 
 
 And specks with hissing isles the wave. 
 Crushing the eggshells men had built ; 
 And firm rocks as hot wine are spilt. 
 
 An after-marvel to the grave ; — 
 
 So part asunder and roll down 
 
 In foamy spouts the brittle stones, 
 
 Slaked with hot blood, and rife with groans, 
 
 Till gapes with wounds the silent town. 
 
 Well have ye drowned the Spartan flame ; 
 
 It clings to Russia — and defiles ; 
 
 While angels shudder, Satan smiles 
 To see played out the foul War-game ! 
 
 What foreign aid shall redd the fray ? 
 
 Death-pulses shake the fretted main ; 
 
 Few sons shall see their sires again. 
 And brides shall droop for many a day. 
 
 Destruction drops her sulphur-pall; 
 
 Dies out the last faint echoing boom ; 
 
 The surge drifts o'er a bubbling doom. 
 And brave men's ashes seething fall ;
 
 SUNSHINE AT CAPRI. 45 
 
 Remember now the proudlier heel 
 
 That crushed the bhnd-worm Liberty, — 
 Leap open, blood-writ History, 
 
 Huge Retribution, wave thy steel! 
 
 Sp n* "l^ ^ 
 
 *!* ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ifC 3(! ^ ^ 
 
 I mused a battle-dream, — dread words 
 Of murderous might, of dark import, — 
 But Spring- shoots hid the battered fort, 
 
 And sunshine drowned fire -mirroring swords ; 
 
 I strove to summon wildering cries 
 Of wounded, and the forlorn shout, — 
 But turtle-doves war-clamour flout, 
 
 And crocus-buds 'mid ruin rise ; 
 
 And, coaxing her soft cheek to mine. 
 Dame Nature whispers in my ear : 
 " Why fret this air so still, so clear, — 
 
 " These depths that kiss the faint coast-line ? 
 
 " For now, in Italy, at least, 
 
 " The grim-streaked mountains are sun-toned ; 
 
 " Winter's dissolved — fresh Spring, scarce throned, 
 " Bids all men her return to feast ;
 
 46 GREEK FIRE AT SINOPE. 
 
 " Still nestling fast as unripe peach, 
 
 " With one cheek white, and one cheek red, 
 " As though she stood aghast with dread 
 
 " Of Storm's war-paint, of Winter's screech. 
 
 " Most of all seasons that upstart, 
 " So powerful in their youth or age 
 " To make me welcome their glad rage, 
 
 " This half-shaped heauty meets my heart ; 
 
 " This maidenhood of Spring; for then 
 '• All spotless growth lives out again, 
 " Without a bhght or scar or blain, 
 
 " And prophecies bud thick for men. 
 
 " For then I feel both young and old, 
 " A stock that fades and blooms apace, 
 " A nurse of God-created space 
 
 " Whose knell by seraphs shall be tolled. 
 
 " Lo stedfast cliffs that pierce blue day, 
 " Spiring like snakes in emerald rings, 
 " The first fly hums, the first bird sings, 
 
 " And sparkling bulb-flowers cleave their way. 
 
 " Hark, maidens' gold-spun songs that bear 
 " Twin burthens of a laugh and sigh, 
 " Twin burthens, Joy and Industry, 
 
 " Stirring the silence-frozen air.
 
 SUNSHINE AT CAPRI, 47 
 
 " Tenderly as a little tongue 
 
 " That beats within a crystal bell, 
 
 " Or moan of sea- deserted shell, 
 " Or bees in throated nectaries hung. 
 
 " Hark! from green shoots that will be sheaves, 
 " Air-drops with opening voices glide ; 
 " They seem to melt, and crack, and slide, 
 
 " As icicles from sun -thawed leaves. 
 
 " A warm faint breath hunts wolves of mist 
 " Into jagged caverns 'neath the hills, 
 " Soft hands are laid on wintry rills, 
 
 " And sprouts, hail- wounded, are balm-kissed. 
 
 " All is forgotten ; all is peace ; 
 
 " The lamb feeds in the cannon's'bore ; 
 
 " The wave, wheels conches to the shore, 
 " The sky, is one large golden fleece. 
 
 " Then fill thee with a sweeter sense, — 
 " The night out from the dawning floats ; 
 " Be not a crusher of dead throats, 
 
 " Or harsh in thy magniloquence. 
 
 " These sank most bravely, sword in hand ; 
 
 "It is not well to mock their pain ; 
 
 " Weep rather, o'er the death-gorged main, — 
 " None can their piteous fate withstand :
 
 48 GREEK FIUE AT SINOPE, 
 
 " No more to greet the kindling Spring, 
 " No more to sun -forge idle hours, — 
 " The meanest a libation pours 
 
 " For those who've drunk what stern Fates bring. 
 
 " And yet their punishment is just; 
 
 " Yea, just; and may it strike effect. — 
 " May Christ's proud fetterers be wrecked, 
 
 " So Christians in their own God trust." 
 
 So, hovering as a ruffled dove. 
 
 Showing faint feathers 'neath her wings ; 
 
 Who, in the sun-shine, gently flings 
 Orbs of snow flake, and soars above ; 
 
 But still intent upon her brood. 
 
 Shrinks from the wide fir-shadowed mere. 
 And whispering with soft plumes her fear. 
 
 Shields with her eider-boss the wood. 
 
 So brightening me, as burnished dove 
 
 Steeps rainbow-plumes in fountain clear — 
 Nature poured solace in my ear ! 
 
 I said, Dear Nurse, thou knowest my love. 
 
 And how I oft have rushed to Thee, 
 
 In pleached mead or dank vdlderness, — 
 When men have veiled my tenderness, 
 
 Or torn to light my agony :
 
 SUNSHINE AT CAPRI. 49 
 
 With parted lips, and heart of stone, 
 With flashing eyes, and quaking limbs, 
 Have dashed aside the briar that climbs 
 
 And crouched beneath thy mossy throne : 
 
 And sinking to thee from all harms. 
 Hurled, as the plaything of a storm, 
 This weary, shrinking, sob-torn form 
 
 Into thy gently clasping arms : 
 
 Then all the little straight-stemmed flowers, 
 With baby wonder met my face, 
 And laughed at fire- words forged apace, 
 
 And quenched the tears that fell in showers : 
 
 Till, won by glances fresh and coy. 
 And feeling here at least a home, 
 A faithful friend, a gold-mouthed tome, 
 
 I dreamt of Peace, and sang of Joy. 
 
 Ah ! shrinking from clay lips how oft. 
 
 Of that frail idol, woman-kind. 
 
 To thee, in secret have I pined. 
 Thee only bright, thee only soft ; 
 
 As bee that, torpid-clambering long 
 On hueless thistle-shreds ice- veined, 
 Flies to Spring-sucklers, cottage-trained. 
 
 And drinks his fill and winds his song !
 
 50 GREEK KIKE AT SINOPE. 
 
 Daughter of God, comparable 
 
 To none ; definable by none ! 
 
 From firstling tendrils, floods of sun, 
 I take up a rude parable ; 
 
 Dark ivy, bathed in yellow sheen ; 
 
 Age-crippled mountains, drunk with youth; 
 
 Mists, lilac-dropping from the south ; 
 Still waves that sparkle emerald-green ; 
 
 Depths, faintly joined to dazing clouds, 
 
 As wings to angels' shoulders fit ; 
 
 Vapours of earth-incense, that sit 
 And melt within their ruby shrouds ; 
 
 These might wake prouder harps than mine. 
 Whose hand but wanders with the breeze ; 
 Whose thoughts are thawed before they freeze. 
 
 By gathering bloom, by fond sunshine ; 
 
 A string of thoughts disorderly, 
 
 WUd as the fern-horn in the wood, — 
 Which, trained by a less fretful mood, 
 
 Might crawl in print collectedly : 
 
 But better leave them their loose curl. 
 Their wildered hyacinthine coils. 
 For all my gardening only spoils, — 
 
 In tangled depths men find the pearl.
 
 SUNSHINE AT CAPRI. 
 
 Now lifts his head the rankest weed; 
 
 Now claim their echoes, faintest sounds ; 
 
 Meadows green o'er their freshest wounds, 
 And home-trees from their bare twigs bleed, 
 
 With linnet-chirps, and window-prism, 
 As when they drop laburnum-points, 
 Or waste fruit-gum, — the sun anoints 
 
 All with his balmy golden chrism. 
 
 And shall there be a coward dearth 
 
 Of words to greet the new-blown year? 
 Shall judgment, with rough sickle, shear 
 
 The creepers I train from the earth ? 
 
 Proud Reason, spare my blindling lays, — 
 We crowd to Heaven as we can ; 
 That azure vault thou canst not span,- — 
 
 Prune not air-shoots, spare groundling sprays. 
 
 ^r f 'P V 
 
 * * * * 
 
 '1^ "i^ M* Jp 
 
 "p "P f "I* 
 
 The Earth, the Earth, the giant Earth ! 
 
 Men plant her with forced fruit and flowers. 
 Sow her with phantom-graves and towers. 
 
 And thrill her hollows with soft mirth :
 
 52 GREEK FIRE AT SINOPE. 
 
 The Earth, the Earth, the heaven-clasped Earth ! 
 Men stamp with puny heels, and stain 
 With blood, — and gild with corn again. 
 
 The power that knows no ease, — no dearth. 
 
 The Earth, the Earth, the sea- veined earth ! 
 Men scratch her for their trees and grain, 
 She, heedless of their joy, their pain. 
 
 Swathes livid death, cloaks rosy birth. 
 
 The God-crowned, God-anointed Earth ! 
 Her front with starry gems is twined. 
 Her green pall with brown ore is lined. 
 
 She belts with rainbow cliffs her girth ; 
 
 Earth God-arrested, God-despoiled ! 
 
 Here monster-gorged — there bounteous fair. 
 With spriteful smile or ghoulish stare, 
 
 By whom Death 's crushed and strong Life foiled : 
 
 She steals the honeycomb of Life, 
 
 And sheathes the stings of hornet Death, — 
 She neither shakes nor groans beneath, 
 
 Whilst nations wrestle in fell strife : 
 
 Great earthquakes thrill not more each vein 
 Of her calm heart, than flies that swim 
 Within a goblet's darkling brim 
 
 And seem to shake, but scarcely stain.
 
 SUNSHINE AT CAPRI. 53 
 
 Who would not rave and tear his hair. 
 To see her stoHd mute control, 
 Th* indifference, mocking thunder roll. 
 
 Smiling at heaps that vultures scare ? 
 
 Who would not weep and wring his hands 
 
 Above her amaranth caprice ? 
 
 Who would not pay a bloody price 
 To clot some Freedom in Time's sands ? 
 
 But years run on, and years run by, — • 
 
 Nations are punished for their sins ; 
 
 Midst cries for heljs and mournful dins 
 Of Justice maimed, chained Liberty. 
 
 And be ye sure that when the curse 
 
 Of former crime bounds thundering down, 
 Men still will hide in Freedom's gown. 
 
 And the same tyranny rehearse. 
 
 So works God's law. His saving care : — 
 A people made the Greeks their slaves ; 
 But there rise nettles from their graves. 
 
 And Conquest fights as fought Despair ! 
 
 So let them sink, and rise, and die ; 
 
 We are hut atoms in this world ; 
 
 But, when the heavens shall be unfurled, 
 What nation's flag shall spotless fly ?
 
 54 GREEK FIRE AT SINOPE. 
 
 We can aiford the Turk a tear. 
 
 And tinge our hearts with Heathen blood 
 Rut Justice may not be withstood. 
 
 And they shall die " who had no fear.'
 
 55 
 
 THE NEGLECTED POET. 
 
 La gloria di coliii che tutto muove 
 Per I'universo penetra, e rispleude 
 In una parte piu e meno altrove 
 Nel ciel che piu della sua luce prende 
 Fu io. Dante Paradiso. 
 
 I BLAME ye not, O men, in that ye crouch 
 
 And cringe to those, upon whose brazen smiles 
 
 God has not deigned to stamp his starry truth. 
 
 To bow to demons is convenient. 
 
 To bow to fools hath surely its reward. 
 
 And false nobility supplies an idol 
 
 Not meaner than the lust of gold, or place, 
 
 Or drunken ease, or paint-bedaubed desire. 
 
 Since men have made a satyr of Apollo, 
 
 The more ridiculous the puppets are 
 
 That drivel scorn, or hate, or sit enclosed 
 
 In gaudy-curtained thrones — the freer truth. 
 
 The peacocks and the turkeys of mankind. 
 
 That jet and strut and split their false-coined voices. 
 
 Let them spread out fan-tinsels to the sun 
 
 And stare with myriad indecent eyes 
 
 Their curiosity, their scorn, their fear! 
 
 The eagle that hath disappeared from earth. 
 
 The wood-dove that is caught in fresh-blown leaves
 
 56 THE NEGLECTED POET. 
 
 May shrilly laugh, or softly murmur, while 
 Their biped pomp, — all green and gold before, 
 All bare and foul behind, — stalks over dunsr. 
 These lackeys, these door-shutters of the world, 
 Let them think mud and prattle insolence; 
 We who gaze inwardly on glorious scenes, 
 Who have strange alchemy within our minds 
 And plant the flowers their carriage-wheels have 
 
 bruised. 
 Can strip them to theh" winding-sheet, condemn 
 With one pure glance the Hmbs unnatural hooked, 
 The nicely sorted labelled craniums. 
 We can outstrip the ebon steeds of death. 
 Can handle like a sexton the scant scull 
 And toss it, stuffed with musk and decked with 
 
 ribbons. 
 Amongst a heap of useless mouldering things 
 Esteemed unduly — but when great and good 
 Are followed by a crowd of fashion's urchins. 
 And tittered, pelted, starved to death, I rear 
 An Ajax shield against these pigmy darts. 
 And, reining in my arm to its full might. 
 Launch a huge spear amongst their waspish ranks. 
 
 Wliat fearful masks men wear! how painfully 
 They tear the bandage from the new-mouthed wound; 
 How clownishly they trample the fine sand. 
 The impalpable moth-bloom of tenderness! 
 And spur-plough generosity — Set on a man 
 The stamp of spiritual amplitude
 
 THE NEGLECTED POET. 57 
 
 Of God's nobility — let him go forth 
 With a lai-ge heart that bleeds alike for nations 
 And the poor shivering beggar — let his brain 
 Plait in and out with intricate device 
 The most ingenious and lustrous fancies — 
 Let his ideas be one vast rose-bath 
 Dimpling and veiling with diaphanous folds 
 Mortality's distorted form, and making 
 Silver-drop music round her sordid feet ; 
 A glory-stained cathedral glass, a mass 
 Of glittering gems, subduing the world's glare. 
 And yet cementing rainbows of pure light, 
 Now flashing tearful beams of amethyst, 
 Now flitting fast with green and purple fire: 
 And men will shear his diadem from his brow. 
 And men will pluck great handfuls from his treasure. 
 And blink their eyes and swear he never shone. 
 Let him be fit to annihilate a crowd. 
 Yet yearn to them with a god's tenderness. 
 And answer their hoarse brays with a sweet stir 
 Of distant sounds from heaven-strung angelot. 
 Or clarion-breathe them on to clearer deeds — 
 His tastes be delicate as flowers in bud, 
 Or lyres new-strung — his nature glorious, 
 Soft-beaming as an alabaster lamp 
 Of beauty prideless, undeniable, [worshipped, 
 
 That should be velvet-wrapped and soothed and 
 Yet shrinking from the foully flattering eye : 
 Of courage great, but all ambitionless ; 
 
 D 5
 
 58 THE NEGLECTED TOET. 
 
 Or if aspiring, but to what is good ; — 
 
 That dares to commune with his guardian spirit, 
 
 But starts back from the bully-blustering throng; — 
 
 And see how they will stab him in the dark, 
 
 And spring to fetter him with tiny cords. 
 
 And knot his hair, and stick pins in his eyes, 
 
 Drag all his secrets to their dirty kennel, 
 
 And worry them as curs the stag that's dead ; 
 
 Dry up the giant courses of his love. 
 
 Smite to the ground the censers of his grandeur. 
 
 And rushing in upon the inmost shrine, 
 
 And fouling with their grasp the lordly weapons 
 
 They are unfit to touch, will frown and gibber 
 
 On eyes that sparkle majesty, on lips 
 
 That wreathe with love, good-will and clemency. 
 
 O ivy crouching 'neath the straight- stemmed oak 
 With darkling stunted venom-leaves ! O wisps 
 Of pigmy light, that flickering, erring, mock 
 At the great steadfast centres of full orbs ! 
 O ye who study to obliterate 
 The hallowed vestige of the largely shod : 
 Ye that cast golden calves before the face 
 Still gilded with the beams of godly favour, ■ 
 And break the tablets high-priests clomb to win ! — 
 Tell me not of " self-pride and modesty," 
 In most men modesty is but conceit: 
 "How truly, though severely just," they glance, — 
 The scare-orbs of the world ! Hint not to me 
 That they know beauty, and reward desert;
 
 THE NEGLECTED POET. 59 
 
 Nor trace the dwarfling hasty schemes they have, 
 To salary merit, and embalm the great. — 
 How shall a world whose fi-uit is mediocrity 
 Judge of the mighty? How should they be lured, 
 Who stop their ears and lash themselves to masts ? 
 Ha! prostitute religion ; chase romance; 
 Drown music; bury beauty; swaddle grace. 
 Build hideous scaffoldings, twist busy pulleys, 
 Let down true dignity from his high place. 
 Go to! it is a world of caricatures 
 And travesties : 't is lost, the dear child-wisdom 
 That made kings wonder at the enchanter's rod ; 
 They love not, pity not, and wonder not, 
 Are not exalted, nerved or gratified. 
 Henceforth all men shall be poor used-up hackneys 
 Fretting the greasy collar of slang sameness. 
 And sticking in old hoof-marks and clay-ruts ; 
 Bootlings and glovelings, that monotonous pace 
 A fashionable treadmill, when their turn 
 Is come, and the world rings a small cracked bell. 
 Henceforth all men shall be as wooden clowns, 
 Painted and glued, with their limbs pack-thread 
 
 strung. 
 To dance and grin to children. — O, great Heaven, 
 When will men learn to bow to majesty } 
 I will not cringe, as other poets do, — 
 Shelving their rhymes all noiselessly, and muffling 
 Beneath a cloak the harp that should be swept 
 Aloud, and pierce the marrow of the base, —
 
 60 THE NEGLECTED POET. 
 
 Because a poet is not all so skilful 
 To cut a coat, or cross a drawing-i'oom ; 
 Because, forsooth, men have forgot what Dante, 
 The supernatural, the Virgil-crowned, 
 Taught — that a Poet is the next to God. 
 Men tremble at the name of Heaven or Hell, 
 Yet waft their different creeds like thistle darts 
 Throughout the world — here was a man who dared 
 To clothe himself in that antique religion 
 His fathers wore — and soared and clove the heart, 
 And sucked the honey of this great idea ; 
 Who steeped his soul in Paradise, and seethed 
 His frame in Hell. — Who dared to chuckle then ? 
 Men were more natural and less venturesome — 
 They knelt, and laid their hands upon their swords. 
 Nor dressed themselves in starched and formal 
 motley. 
 
 •P "P ^I* ^ 
 
 This was not the great station Orpheus held ; 
 Nor Shakespeare ; nor will I ; and if I prove 
 Usurper, push me from the plundered throne 
 And pluck the mimick thunder-bolt away ; 
 I shall have rumbled o'er a brazen bridge. 
 And shaped my beard for Jove's. But if, ye sons 
 Of men, I have refracted aught of truth, 
 Wildered the world with aught that is sublime. 
 Or poured a flood of music in your ears, — 
 Tempt me not, with your flimsy ridicule. 
 To hurl a mountain at your heads — to make
 
 THE NEGLECTED POET. 61 
 
 Crusades against your Pagan fastnesses, — 
 
 To bow my head and let the columns fall 
 
 Upon the Philistines ! Unroll the pages 
 
 Of your chained hearts ; pay homage where 't is due ; 
 
 Leave not the teacher lost in poverty 
 
 And loneliness with God — but scatter gifts 
 
 As kings, and consecrate my song. The wise 
 
 Fire not the loft, but store the golden tilth — 
 
 The merciful love not to shout these words 
 
 Into a dead man's ear. " We loved you not, — 
 
 And killed you." Nature's gay and pampered children 
 
 Should not delight to plunge stab after stab 
 
 Into the shuddering flesh of tender beauty. 
 
 To gash and mutilate what was divine, 
 
 And shrug the shoulders when the knee should bow. 
 
 Ijet others twitter in their wicker cage — 
 
 (Sometimes allowed to flit across the room, 
 
 Or swung into a sea of window-buds. 
 
 Or on a jewelled finger sugar peck), 
 
 With scant supplies of seed and water, trill 
 
 Their gratitude to man, and love of thrones ; 
 
 Let others hide their talent in the earth. 
 
 Apologizing for their tremulous notes ; 
 
 I'll wear the harper's key in broad daylight ; — 
 
 Let those who can, come pluck it from my breast I
 
 62 
 
 A VISION RAISED BY MUSIC. 
 
 The book fell from my hands : enrapt, I listened 
 To the quaint measure of a plaintive organ, 
 Surging against my heart like piteous waves, 
 That murmur faintly 'gainst the winds' control ; 
 Till Realism shrank neath leaden pinions 
 And the worn arras of dark ages rose. 
 Then I beheld an old oak room, where flitted. 
 As o'er a dax'kened mirror, bygone forms 
 Of longhaired cavaliers, and fluttering dames 
 With high-heeled shoes and high-flown compliments, 
 With buckram skirts and satin courtesy. 
 The white owl haunts it now — the joyless worm 
 Frets with his silent tooth the rich flower-carving, 
 That circled hooded dame and belted knight, 
 Where erst they grimly smiled 'mid stiffest mouldings. 
 And heaviest festoons — yet I beheld it. 
 Not as a day-dream, but a clear-wrought scene 
 Of potent spell that rends the masque of ages. 
 To mind us of hereditary death. 
 Z\}t Yisian. The Lady Gertrude, — fresh as sea-bathed shell. 
 Fair as the shifting lily that endiadems 
 Fay-haunted pools, — sweeps by with transient grace. 
 Her flower-knit dress, glittering with health and 
 beauty ;
 
 A VISION RAISED BY MUSIC. 63 
 
 And, as she passes, blushes forth a challenge 
 
 (The welcome crimson makes his proud heart leap), 
 
 Of dance, to young Sir Arthur : forth they glide 
 
 With many a reverence low and perfumed gesture ; 
 
 All gaiety and stateliness in motion, — 
 
 When sudden she falls back : for Death has kissed 
 
 All colour from her cheek : they hurry round — 
 
 (Breathe not so faint, sad organ) — All is darkened, — 
 
 Low sobs and altered features tell their grief. 
 
 Who loved her well. Still rustling in brocade 
 
 And ribbons bright, they lay her on the dais 
 
 From whence she loved to issue playful mandates 
 
 Of sovereign caprice. With low-bent heads 
 
 And hair that sweeps tlie bier, — with ghostly port, 
 
 They pace around the fallen one ; too fair. 
 
 She ever seemed, to join in earthly hymns ; 
 
 And now they kiss her hand for the last time. 
 
 (Ebb not away, sad organ, plangent, thrilling 
 
 The mausoleum of my inmost heart, 
 
 With thy familiar deadly cadence.) Lo ! 
 
 All, all are gone, save one that now advances 
 
 And presses with pale lips the paler clay 
 
 He oft in life compared to Parian marble. 
 
 'T is surely cold stone now ; he lays it from him, 
 
 And staggers from the stately corpse a cast ; 
 
 Then hurls his weary length upon the floor. 
 
 His heart is broken. — Let the music cease !
 
 64 
 
 FOUNTAIN, BROOK, AND CANAL. 
 
 Mortals may be divided into three Classes — 
 The Ornamental, Fortunate, and Useful. 
 
 " Silence ! " the star-wreathed Fountain to the Brook 
 Listlessly murmured; "Wretch, hast thou not shame 
 
 '' To make more noise than doth the cawing rook, 
 " Though filtered through rush-lids, a slug and 
 tame?" 
 
 " Nay! how didst thou contrive to overhear, 
 
 "Through leaves and Uly stems, my modest 
 whisper? 
 
 "Why dost thou not thyself sing loud and clear, 
 "Thou with the gem-hung ears, insipid lisper?" 
 
 "Howl" splashed the Fountain " does Su- Dwarfling 
 dare 
 
 " To rage against my gold and rainbow crown.? 
 " Doth he not hear how in the twittering air 
 
 "My spangled plumelets lingering glitter down.?" 
 
 " Ay, sneered the Brook; " but you forget 1 stroll," 
 " Stem rat's holes, kiss sweet violets, as I will ; 
 
 " Submitting to no metre or control, 
 
 " Save that i glaze my state with winter's chill.
 
 FOUNTAIN, BROOK, AND CANAL. 65 
 
 "Whilst your pond-filch'd foul body through dull pipes 
 "Is pressed to suit a bumpkin gardener's pleasure; 
 
 " In everlasting hoop. Your plug he gripes, 
 " Poor squirrel in a ring ; to scanter measure, 
 
 " Wavers your Prince of Wales's opal plume ; 
 
 " You bow, you falter, and are hushed and dry ! 
 " Poor tad-pole-squirt, aye, fret, and fondly fume; 
 
 "Know that I'm Heaven-born; still truth I cry." 
 
 ' Monster ! to badger's lairs, like a blind snake, 
 "You creep, and hoard dead leaves," — the Foun- 
 tain spluttered. 
 Here Thomas turned a small knob with his rake — 
 Our pretty tinkhng fountain gasped and fluttered. 
 
 "Ah there you go," the Streamlet joyful cried. 
 Pushing the tangle from his eyes : but " Hold !" 
 
 Sang a Canal, — barge-laden, smooth and wide, — 
 As leisurely through velvet brims he rolled. 
 
 "Behold your better, though controlled by men ; 
 
 " You're free to rove and woo bright buds no doubt; 
 "But are less useful than tame floods, and then 
 
 " Less pretty (to my taste), than her you flout."
 
 ee 
 
 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 
 
 Ah captious friends, when that F m dead and gone. 
 
 Then will you fondly say how dear B. shone ; 
 
 At present, hypercritical, you mutter. 
 
 How poor dear blundering- B. does stick and stutter. 
 
 Kind Friends, when I am withering underground. 
 Then will you breathe to fresh bloom my M S. 
 
 But now you stint, and think it reason sound. 
 To say, this youth is not fit for the press. * 
 
 Think you, that homage rendered after death 
 Cancels neglect of living present beauty. 
 
 Or that night-lated mourners with scant breath 
 To quondam sunshine pay a pleasant duty. 
 
 Faugh ! bind no mouldering cypress- wreaths for me ; 
 
 In life I had no state nor crowns of laurel, 
 From freshman's blots let my wild rhymes be free. 
 
 And on my grave let thistles nod to sorrel.
 
 67 
 
 FOR 
 
 A DEAD KNIGHT OF NOBLE BIRTH. 
 
 Deposuit phaleram, proceres, religare capillos 
 Caelicolum strophio, gloria fronte nitet. 
 
 Qua quondam galeae nutabat crista superbse, 
 
 Quae capulo attrita est, nunc tenet astra, manus. 
 
 Frontem et vestitus dium prsefiilgurat aurum, 
 Dum ferrugineus contrahit arma color, 
 
 Disjecit clypeum et celata insignia regum, 
 Quae que optimatum scuta cruore rubent. 
 
 Dignius inque humeris gestamina quse Seraphorum, 
 Dignantur plectro splendida fila nitent 
 
 luclyta disjecit longorum stemmata avorum, 
 Num que ipso Fatris nunc jacet in gremio ?
 
 68 
 
 BROOK AND WATERFALL. 
 
 IMPETUOUS ENTERPRISE AND PRUDENT SELF-RETIREMENT. 
 
 " Hold, hold !" 
 Said the brooklet to the -water-fall. 
 " Do'st thou not see the larches tall, 
 " Scarce clinging to the cloven spire, 
 " With blistered roots reft by blue fire ? 
 
 " Hold, hold ! 
 " Their branches wither in thy fumes ; 
 " Wilt thou weigh down their sable plumes, 
 " And change their hue to ghostly brown, 
 " For pining o'er the passes crown ; 
 " Wilt thou career o'er the'opal throne, 
 " Where the pale mountain spirit shone, 
 " And dash thy silver self to dust, 
 " In duskey columns foam ey joust? 
 
 " Hold, hold ! 
 " Lo, where the eagle suns his flight 
 " With brazen eyes and wings of might, 
 " In that hollow Hes his nest ; 
 " On that crag with punctured breast, 
 " Drooping head and naked shoulder, 
 " Lies a hunter ; — none was bolder
 
 BROOK AND WATERFALL. 69 
 
 " Or to rival his prey's leap, 
 " Or with smothered pace to creep 
 " Against the tainting breeze, — behold, 
 " Yonder lies your hunter bold, 
 " Rock-flies have drunk up his blood ; 
 " The musket-stock with shivered wood 
 " Marks the fierceness of his mood ; 
 " No Nimrod flush is on his front, 
 " The savage heart that erst was wont 
 " To beat before his longsought prey, 
 " Now dulls hke lead and ebbs away ; 
 " None knows, I ween, that he lies there, 
 " Save the wind that plays with his dead hair, 
 " Or the Indian fig-leaf's spiked mace, 
 " Fleshing her prickles in his face, 
 " Hold, hold ! 
 
 " Wilt thou immerge the callow brood, 
 " And jaundice thy corrupted flood, 
 " Wilt drift about the hunter's hair, 
 "And mirror back his watery stare ? 
 " Wilt thou forsake bright mountain buds, 
 " And in their stead, on swampy muds, 
 " Paint mosses dank, and trailing girth 
 " Of monster green that shuns the earth ? 
 " Wilt drown the pole-cat in his hole, 
 " And paddle with the dead snake's scroll ? 
 " Hold, hold !"
 
 70 BROOK AND WATERFALL. 
 
 "On, on!" 
 Thundered th' imperious water-fall, 
 " Unmoved by its smooth brother's call ; 
 " Better the eagle's wing be snapped, 
 " Than heather in lamb's blood be lapped, 
 " Better the corpse lie atom -blanched, 
 " Than that his broQing wounds be staunched 
 " By a fierce sun slanting on his face, 
 " And so he become in festering space 
 " A skeleton, chained by its shattered bones 
 " To a rock, and a skull stuffed with fir-cones. 
 
 " On, on ! 
 " What if I dash my burnished column, 
 " My brUliant cuishes with clanging solemn 
 " On rude crags, into thin foam-dust, 
 " And bead the dull rock's slaty crust ? 
 " Yet, where my twisted au'-tubes wend, 
 " Rays pavonine and spar-lights blend ; 
 " What if no paltry daisy blush" 
 " Beneath my arch, nor cricket hush 
 " His roundelay amid the spice 
 " Of musky shrub and flowrets nice ? 
 " Yet, shall gigantic water- creeper, 
 " CoU round my heart deeper and deeper, 
 " And where I he in slumberous pool, 
 " White lUies shall twine arms and fool. 
 " And where the oozy rocks are tall, 
 " Frail I^ady's-hair breeze-combed shall fall. 
 
 " On, on !
 
 EROOK AND WATERFALL. 
 
 " What, if advancing in hot speed, 
 " On dead leaves and drenched plumes I feed, 
 " And bend and brandish reed and flovsrer, 
 " And crush the bramble's creeping bower ? 
 " Pale marish husks and king-cups gold, 
 " And rainbow moss, and beech-roots, shoaled 
 " Like blue backed dace, shall lard my pall, 
 " Sweet echo murmur at my fall, 
 " And a small stream shall linger by, 
 " To catch his sire's fall'n melody: 
 " The Salmon bend his silver bow, 
 " And strive t' o'ertop my bridge of snow; 
 " The crested hern on stilted thigh, 
 " Shall watch me with his yellow eye ; 
 " The poet stunned, with dizzy feet, 
 " Shall brood beneath my iris sheet; 
 " The cunning hmner rack his brain, 
 " To paint the bubbles on my train ; 
 " Nor less sweet lovers trembling cower, 
 " 'Neath crystal shrine and freshening shower 
 " Therefore I say to thee. Peace, brother ! 
 " Thy way is smooth, — but mine another. 
 '• On, on !"
 
 72 
 
 THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. 
 
 An infinite spun web of tremulous wires, 
 
 With revolutions vibrate, and the load 
 
 Of monetary intrigue, — with life and death, — 
 
 And majesty's safe progress in far lands, — 
 
 Stabs murderer's heart with news of his black crime, 
 
 (Hidden, he thought, far off in the furze downs, 
 
 Buried 'neath hawthorn trails and dew-dank leaves ;) 
 
 Fringes iron veins, that cut green-bosomed lands. 
 
 Into as many flecks of gossamer 
 
 As leaves whose fibres Autumn has picked clean ; 
 
 Whispers the loved arrival or sad loss 
 
 In one short breathing time, while men are crawling 
 
 In leaden trains, or adding vapourish wings 
 
 To the steam-boat ; this fearful messenger, 
 
 This winged and eyed Report, that needs no wings. 
 
 No eyes, — this future tyrant's instrument, — 
 
 This Nero's shuttle, plucks the world's slow secret, 
 
 And stamps it in one instant, swifter than 
 
 A ray of light or distance-swathing sound. 
 
 Upon the myriad parchments of the world ! 
 
 Henceforth all men shall be the booby birds 
 
 That hide their heads in the sand ; the mighty world 
 
 Shall thrill with fears and show a maiden's blush. 
 
 And have no more command upon her nerves
 
 THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. 73 
 
 Or pulse, than tottering lovers near their idol. 
 
 O Ingenuity, — men are too terrible 
 
 For men ! They forge the unerring fowling-barrel, — 
 
 And, blown to pieces, save a rabbit's life : 
 
 They prison mighty steam, and lo, it hurls 
 
 A thousand lives to atomy : they spin 
 
 These spider tubes, — exhausting copper stores 
 
 To draw out miles of sympathetic metal ; — 
 
 And lo, it prints their shame ; rings as a harp 
 
 Responsive to their wrongs ; or drags out secrets 
 
 From country glades, to stun the criminal ; 
 
 Or sounds to Loyalty a distant conch, 
 
 Of royal progress ; echoing the next moment 
 
 The crash of thrones ! This, stamps the forging caitiff 
 
 Upon his guilty shoulder, when he thought 
 
 To have 'scaped in winged haste to safer chmes; 
 
 This, throws a fat purse at the merchant's feet. 
 
 Or gorges milhons of rash enterprise ! 
 
 No wonder that ye thrill with wildering song, 
 Ye great yEolian chords, in the rough wind; 
 No wonder that ye glance with rainbow hues. 
 Now bloody red, now gold, now plague-spot green. 
 And clang mysterious to the thundering train, 
 Fire choruses by devil- smithies forged ; 
 No wonder ye expand, contract, expand, 
 Leaping from spheres to wide-strung tetrachords» 
 And dvdndling to an eye-spot of tense wire ; 
 Or that the little birds drop off, benumbed 
 
 E
 
 74 Till; ELKCTRIC TELEGRAPH. 
 
 By shock of empires, — or, like beads close huddled. 
 Voiceless, with half-shut eyes and purfled feathers, 
 Are fascinated by the subtle thrill, 
 And dare not fly. 
 
 No wonder that ye snap, 
 Tense with the weight of the World's new-born secrets, 
 A load of fearful import, — fly asunder, — 
 And, mighty, slash the farmer's burly face,* 
 Until his horse and he, both staggering under. 
 Think that the lightning has crept down their spines. 
 
 * For this fact, see Times.
 
 75 
 
 FAREWELL, SLXTEEN ! 
 
 IMPIA SUB DDLCI MELLE VELENA LATENT. 
 
 Stand not before me in thy perfect beauty, 
 
 Lest I be mastered by an awful love. 
 And fall dead at thy feet ! A martyr's duty, 
 
 Let the scorched sunflower, clustering above 
 The homely earth, to her far idol pay. 
 
 Let the boy climb to spoil the eagle's nest ; 
 I have not heart to win thee — Welladay ! 
 
 Would that I could become at thy behest, 
 More beautiful than Absalom, — more wise 
 
 Than him by Sheba's Queen adored, — with eyes 
 Lustrous as those of the winged Seraphim ; 
 
 A voice that should entune love's melodies, 
 With tearful cadence ; plaintive as the wind ; 
 
 Pleading enfranchisement from self- wound chain. 
 Would I could thread the labyrinth of thy mind, 
 
 So mount thy heart's pure throne. O perfect pain ! 
 To know I was not worthy, — perfect bliss, 
 To break thy lip's proud arch with one prolonged 
 sweet kiss ! 
 To hold thee still : so sleeps the bee i' the flower, — 
 So priceless diamonds in the slave's dusk hand 
 
 Glisten, regardless of the brilliant hour. 
 When they shall grace the sultan of his land:
 
 76 FAREWELL, SLXTEEN ! 
 
 He who could see thee and not bow the knee 
 Of speechless worship, is a dullard faint 
 
 'Neath burden of ascetic bigotry ; 
 Showing cold reverence for sculptured saint, 
 
 But none for Nature's triumph. 
 
 Yet beware 
 Ere thou fling from thee what none may recover, 
 
 Youth's pure devotion without stain or care ; 
 Lest, when thy days of careless scorn are over, 
 
 The rose veil plucked from Passion's mystery, 
 And Beauty darkened by Remorse's blot ; 
 
 Thou shalt exclaim in sad humility : 
 " One loved me best — but now I see him not! "
 
 77 
 
 A MILE OF HEATHER. 
 
 Recall for me the tenderness 
 
 Of virgin years ; 
 When all was heart, and restlessness, 
 
 Smiles mixed with tears. 
 
 Recall for me the melody. 
 
 So old, so true. 
 Of Highland love, — a history 
 
 Known but to few. 
 
 And when I press thy slender wrist, 
 
 I'll match its beat, 
 With the burn that tumbles, heather-kist. 
 
 In circles fleet : 
 
 And when my shadow 's in thine eyes. 
 
 And I gaze long. 
 Blue lochs that sleep 'neath Highland skies 
 
 Shall round me throng : 
 
 And watching that rare ruby-flush. 
 
 Thy mouth's sweet red, — 
 "Wild rowan-berries,* dark and lush. 
 
 Swing o'er my head : 
 
 * The berries of the Rowan, or Mountain-Ash.
 
 A MILE OF HEATHER. 
 
 Ah, when our lips together stole. 
 
 Forced by some spell, — 
 Death seemed a lie, and Time a mole — 
 
 Earth cast her shell ; 
 
 And we seemed lifted by sweet fire 
 
 To Eden loves, 
 Clasped by invisible sweet choir 
 
 Of pairing doves. 
 
 I would not give a grey-muir's feather 
 
 For other glow, — 
 The honey of a mile of heather 
 
 Clings to me now !
 
 79 
 
 CHURCH-YARD REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Let me be steeped in Sorrow ; let me feel 
 
 What 't is to revel in a funeral trance. 
 
 And shape the feathers of a thousand hearses ; 
 
 Let Discontent rage in my veins. Let Woe 
 
 Weave rotten motley and thin skeleton leaves 
 
 Into a heavy crown, fit for the fall 
 
 O' the year and life. In each thing fair, a plague-spot— 
 
 In every honey-comb a swollen di'one — 
 
 In every gem a flaw — in every flower 
 
 A blemish. Let the parlous organ sound 
 
 And filter through the vault- stones of the world 
 
 With lamentable pulse. Ye happy dead ! 
 
 That with drained veins and azure-gaping mouths. 
 
 Falling away from the stiff attitudes 
 
 Which men forced on ye even when dead, like flowers 
 
 That, bruised by children, rise again without 
 
 A groan of life,— ye that shape afterthoughts 
 
 With rudely decent palms — I conjure ye 
 
 That ye drink in through worm-engrained ear 
 
 The blasts of revelation I intone ! 
 
 I would not melt the stiff congealed joints. 
 
 Nor make the century-dried start from his couch; 
 
 But, if a still communion with the dead, 
 
 And summing up of Death's dark register.
 
 80 CHURCH-YARD REMNISCENCES. 
 
 Give me a shade of power, I would entreat 
 Your sanction, whilst I pierce sepulchral veils. 
 And from the swaddle-clothes of stark corruption 
 Pluck the great Secret, men would fain despise. 
 
 help me, memory, while I paint this picture ; 
 It was in merry England, (God forgive 
 
 The boast so pitiful of merry England I) 
 The land that still knots currents ever fresh 
 And brandishes great piles of lusty oak. 
 
 1 leant against the rails of a park-pond, 
 
 And watched the float that nodded 'neath the weight 
 Of greedy-nibbling fish — my very worm 
 (I knew it not ; a half-blown ruddy child ;) 
 Was borrowed from the church-yard — there I stood, 
 And joyed to land the crisp prey silver-mailed. 
 With gasping gills, fins vermeil, dorsal spikes, 
 Bouncing upon the lawn, — or pull the eel, 
 Reluctant monster with resisting circles. 
 Wearing the gut, and with the cruel hook 
 Far-gorged in serpent-maw; while oozy-depths 
 Hid the short struggle in their yellow womb. 
 Save some few hubbies eddvinff to the surface. 
 
 On one side, a slow stream, — through a fir forest 
 'Bove which rooks held a cawing parliament 
 Since memory of man, — crawled from the church-yard, 
 And brought its doubtful load of mud and cones 
 To the dark pool wherein I dipped my line. 
 I can recall the scene ; the heavy fish
 
 CHURCH-YARD KEJIINISCENCES. 81 
 
 That bent and leaped like a discharged bow, 
 Then died with gaping mouths in the hot sun ; 
 And the small fry I gave to the tame eagle, 
 Who, with shrill challenge and gaunt pouncing talons, 
 With rutilant orbs, and head turned back to scan 
 My advance — crouched cowering; ruffled up his 
 
 feathers ; 
 And striking at them in his shadowy pool, 
 Soon stripped the shuddering mass of bone-combed 
 
 flesh. 
 And plucked the crimson from the scale-bossed head. 
 
 On the other side, there was a pleasant park. 
 Filled with old trees, and belts of fern waist-high; 
 There tripped the dainty troops of faUow-deer 
 To drink; while fawns chased round and round the 
 
 pond, 
 And champions clashed their lofty branching antlers, 
 Or belled, far off, their love and their defiance. 
 The stag-beetles hummed round this lordly park, 
 And beech-mast fell in brown showers in the shade. 
 
 Towards eve, the master of the dark-shoaled pond 
 Bade me put down my rod and come within 
 The church, that hedged with fir, and smoothly based 
 As a sea-tower that courts the ocean's homage. 
 Bosomed green undulations of the graves. 
 
 I had oft stood within the high-screened pew 
 On Sundays, when the fresh maids with bright ribbons 
 
 E 5
 
 82 CHURCH-YARD REJIINISCENCES. 
 
 And bumpkins with pale cowslips in their mouths, 
 
 Listened so stolidly ; while their old Pastor, 
 
 With long bleached locks, — waked even from his sleep 
 
 Of almost doting blessed love, to wrath, — 
 
 At some small peccadilloes he had heard 
 
 The manor's lord possessed, — with flagging logic, 
 
 And harping back on strings of many things 
 
 He once had at his finger-ends, — (but now, 
 
 Alas, December's snow shrouds leaf and wing,) 
 
 To Oxford wafted back, — with faltering spear 
 
 Pierced the great dragon Sin : 
 
 A breeze steals in, 
 Graced by the Sun and fresh from belted bloom. 
 And scatters all his locks like meadow-grass ; 
 So, too obUvious, chiller peasants' breath 
 Tumbles his words, and shatters all the cause 
 Of anger rarely felt ; — in speechless trouble 
 He waits, —until some inner consciousness 
 Whispers his soul, — borne on that summer breeze ! 
 Thou, that descendest to the grave ere long. 
 Rage not agamst thy fellow-man ; forgive. 
 As thou shalt be forgiven ; those that Death 
 Has kissed already, only smile and love, — 
 May hate and frowns be far from such as these ! 
 
 Then in his high-screened pew, — a late arrival, — 
 The manor's lord, with leg crossed over leg. 
 Luxuriously stretched, — his fierce moustache 
 Soldierly curled, — thus slyly whispered me : —
 
 CUURCH-TARD EEMIKISCENCES. 83 
 
 " Hark to the parson, that 's a hit at me I 
 " Ha, he breaks down, the old boy!" 
 
 Then labourers aged, 
 With preternaturally horned hands 
 But souls soft to the word of God ; and, pure 
 As snow new-fallen, children in clean smocks ; 
 The wonderful orchestra with pitch pipes ; 
 The arms of Britain, — rampant unicorn. 
 And lion quaintly carved ; — the two bald folk, 
 That always shivered reverently, with eyes 
 Agog, and staff- supported hands, beside 
 The pulpit, — on whose poor bewildered pates 
 The preacher's snuff was sown broadcast, so that 
 Sneezes were mixed with wondering attention : — 
 — Often had all these simple homely things 
 Giv'n me sweet cud to chew ! 
 
 But now it seemed 
 We had some plea more serious in view ; 
 Detaching from a bunch of keys the largest. 
 We oped a small stone door that stood beside 
 The village-pews — 1 entered in, and found 
 A sumptuous withdrawing-room of death. 
 In scarlet, gold, and " lead-encased corruption," 
 Here slept the family — upon the pavement 
 Lay tarnished balls of coronets, and rags 
 Dry-rotted from the gay and labelled boxes 
 In which we hide dead men. As though in sport 
 And hideous mockery, the Conjuror, 
 Memento Mori, here had played his tricks
 
 84 CHURCH-YARD REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Of swift disgorgement and dismemberment, 
 
 And tossing of gold balls. In one sad corner. 
 
 Three little shells lay crushed with mutual weight, 
 
 Three little children slept within those shells. 
 
 The rest for the most part on marble trestles 
 
 Reposed ; this crowded chamber was not higher 
 
 Nor lower than the aisle of the grey church. 
 
 I deemed it something horrible, this way 
 
 Of well-bred introduction to Death's boudoir — 
 
 To think that cracked psalms should be weekly howled, 
 
 New bonnets worn, and scandal duly spun, 
 
 Nay, loves fed with eye-fire beside this room. 
 
 This well-bred bare detestable close room ! 
 
 If / had been the lord that held the key, 
 
 I would have pulled the stifling arches down. 
 
 And sunk the bones of my forefathers, where 
 
 Pine fibres roam, and slender flowers jar honey, 
 
 In orchard or wild wood, — or marbled garden 
 
 Where sun-motes dance, and yellow butterflies 
 
 Poised tremblingly, do fan the subtle air. 
 
 Yet wherefore ? for we all must rot in time : 
 
 Perhaps the closer that we rot the better ; 
 
 Perhaps the more genteely we are shrouded, 
 
 The less old fashioned we shall be in dress, 
 
 When the last trumpet sounds ; a shabby corpse 
 
 Would never do, you know ; these kidgloved phantoms 
 
 Win be more at their ease among the crowd — 
 
 — Write me some " Modes for Resurrection-day !"
 
 S5 
 A STROPHE FROM CAPRI, 
 
 AUTISTROPHE FROM NAPLES. 
 
 " O! quanto e bella la campagna I"^ 
 So, scouring up and down the Pergola,^ 
 Warbled a fair child, with flax streaming hair. 
 And lilied cheek — in sooth she was most fair. 
 Her mouth flamed as the poppy's ruddy crown; 
 Her eyes were blue as bugloss midst white down,*"* 
 And ever as she sang she skipped with glee, 
 Joying in luskish health and liberty. 
 " O ! quanto e bella la campagna ! " 
 
 For here the milk is good, the air is pure. 
 And primroses through years of Spring endure; 
 Here trails the vine, here hangs the sweet grained fig, 
 Here powdery sucklers with red gourds wax big, 
 Here plumey pinks I gather of the best. 
 Here dart green lizards, here bees have no rest. 
 " O ! quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 Lift me within the arch and hold me there. 
 For I can gaze without a thought or care, 
 How plunge the swallows in the myrtled rock. 
 How snow the myrtles where the swallows flock, 
 
 ' The first words of a popular Neapolitan song in praise 
 of the country. ^ A terrace shaded l)y vines. 
 
 ^ Bugloss: the herb Ox-tongue.
 
 86 A STROPHE FROM CAPRI. 
 
 How float the lily-ships upon the deep, 
 Like white moths on a blue sword-blade they creep. 
 " O ! quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 The sun, so fair, so liquid bright he 's sped, 
 Seemed to drop gold-dust slowly on my head. 
 The waves so calm, so azure-rich their dye, 
 Seem but a darker fragment of the sky ; 
 Madonna mia ! "* we will loudly sing. 
 Till from our pergola afar doth ring. 
 " O ! quanto h bella la campagna !" 
 
 Not such the gaiety, though such the song. 
 Of a poor child that dragged its limbs along, 
 Wasted and ragged on the foul curb-stones, 
 Where busy Naples echoes with the groans 
 Of tottering jades ; where narrow streets are rife 
 With sulphur -dust -^ and dirt, and wheeling strife,— 
 " Ahi me ! ^ quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 Here, every breath I draw is thick and hot. 
 Here the sun blisters me with painful spot, 
 I swoon with sickly vapours, and am lost 
 Between the frequent wheels, or roughly tost 
 
 ■* A common Italian exclamation equivalent to the old 
 English " By 'r Lady." 
 
 5 Both the air and earth around Vesuvius are impregnated 
 with sulphur. * "Ahi," or " Olii me!" Woe's me!
 
 AN ANTISTROPHE FROM NAPLES. 87 
 
 In the wild crowd ; — there, all is quickening bloom, 
 Sunshine, and cool, and olives' grateful gloom. 
 " Ahi me ! quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 God pity me, that I must hnger here, — 
 I cannot eat, — yet starving am, I fear! 
 Oh that some fair sea-sprite who loved me well 
 Would waft me o'er to Capri in a shell !7 
 But what to me the flowers or leaflets sheen? — 
 I must be dead, to rest me in the green ! ^ 
 " Ahi me ! quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 Yet not the less our child sang loud and free, — 
 What glossy eggplums nestle on the tree ! 
 What golden javelins the reapers hold ! 
 What silken roses deepen fold on fold. 
 What starry blossoms by each path are spread, 
 Purple and lilac, ivory-white, blood-red. 
 " O ! quanto e bella la campagna !" 
 
 And Nature kissed her lightly on the mouth ; 
 For all are not so grateful ; — their's the drouth 
 And peevish murmur — nor can they esteem 
 Deep draughts of sunshine, summer's vivid dream ! 
 But let us swell the child-entoned lay, 
 And chant the memories of dull towns away, — 
 " O ! quanto h bella la campagna ! " 
 
 ' Capri lies 20 miles to the south, and within sight of Naples. 
 
 * Burial without the city gates has been long the law 
 at Naples. The public cemetery is well kept, and is a most 
 quiet beautiful spot.
 
 88 
 
 THE HEATHEN TOMB. 
 
 Ui majorura umbris tenuem et sine pondere terrain 
 Spirantesque crocos et in urna perpetuum vcr ! 
 
 Here Pagan warriors, — a kingly race, — 
 Involved in their own virtue's winding-sheet. 
 With folded arms and sheathed swords do lie. 
 Starkly they sleep. Gods ! may the loving earth 
 Tread lightly on their noble antique forms. 
 Now clad in Death's pale armour ! May the winds 
 Creep hither with soft vesper-breath, and bring 
 Nature's sweet incense on their half-spread wings ! 
 May the warm sun fling his most golden darts 
 On these sad-coloured urns and mossy graves, 
 Nor yet intrude with too o'er-powering eye 
 Upon Death's privacy. — Spring, thou that gatherest 
 The darkest, freshest violets in thy bosom, 
 Pour from thy liberal and delightful hands 
 A shower of favourite blossoms, to adorn 
 Their sepulchre ; let Morpheus' drowsy herblet. 
 The white-crowned poppy, bend its leaves to kiss 
 Their resting-place ; contrasting with whose snow
 
 THE HEATHEN TOMB. b9 
 
 Shall rise the crocus-flowers with yellow chives, 
 Squandering their perfume on the spendthrift air : 
 The little bluebell, fanciful musician. 
 Must shake melodious dirges from its cup. 
 Aye-chiming to their death- entranced ears, — 
 Music, bright colours, and perpetual spring 
 Be with them ever, where they dumbly sleep !
 
 90 
 
 THE DEAD PRIEST. 
 
 Toll not a knell ; but rather let the chimes 
 
 Ring jubilant, — in their most silver tones ; 
 
 Scatter no death- flowers on the simple tomb; 
 
 For he who was so eloquent, so good, 
 
 Hath gone to claim the seraph-woven crovpn, — 
 
 Woven of purer flowers than spring from earth. 
 
 Let none watch o'er him through the ghostly night. 
 
 Or follow him to burial with vain state. 
 
 With slow-paced horses, and long robes of black. 
 
 Why should his friends don grief's dark-grained 
 
 apparel, 
 Because he wears the bride-guest's lustrous vesture ? 
 Make no death-music ; sing no plaintive dirge ; 
 Is he not lifted up in heavenly chorus ? 
 Let no man beat his breast, or tear his hair 
 Above that pale and breath-despoiled corse ; 
 Prepare no cere-cloths; give to earth her prey ; 
 'T is but the vizor that did mask those virtues. 
 The worthless mould in which that mind was cast, 
 The empty shell — which his flown spirit spurned.
 
 THE DEAD PRIEST. 91 
 
 Our good knight hath hung up his shield at last I 
 His was a life of perfect true devotion, 
 He threw the gauntlet down for Christ's religion. 
 And fought, with eloquence. "While yet he slumbered 
 Through passive infancy, some angel's wand 
 Left its deep impress on his plastic mind. 
 And played upon those lips which should entrance 
 Kings, purple-palled, and Senators, and Lords, — 
 Nor less the poor, who toiling look to heaven, — 
 Parting with marvellous sweetness to unfold 
 That mystery of God's love we call Religion. 
 Longtime he bore the standard of the cross 
 Above the crowd of struggling sinner's heads ; 
 And many a maddening wound in its defence 
 Received from scoifers' hands; nor winced, nor 
 
 staunched 
 The inward blood that, flowing from his heart 
 In painful streams, coloured his path to heaven. 
 Full many a sheep too, wandering 'midst the snares 
 Of Sin's dark wilderness, he guided homeward 
 With piteous crook and loving shephei'd's care. 
 To where thy heaven-reflecting fount. Repentance, 
 Weeps crystal tears ; blanching the blood-sprent 
 
 fleece. 
 As white as ivory, tho' its former snow 
 Had violated been with deepest crimson ! 
 Death held him gently in constrained arms. 
 As one who reverently supports his sire ; — 
 So when he died, the pure and placid mouth
 
 92 THE DEAD PRIEST. 
 
 Still wore a smile, traced by Hope's master-hand. 
 But fixed immoveably in rigid sleep : 
 And men wept sorely, — for his voice had smoothed 
 Life's whirlpool, with its softly-echoing tones, 
 Filling their hearts with peace — but his glad soul 
 Flung off her luteous chains, and winged her way 
 Far, far above the pigmy lamentations 
 Or frivolous praise of men.
 
 93 
 
 DEATH OR BEREAVEMENT. 
 
 If one should say, — " This night thou diest; 
 
 " Love's longed-for piping strains shall fade; 
 
 " All bloom shall vanish in death's shade; 
 " In vain for respite brief thou criest ; — " 
 
 I would not shrink — but this behest 
 
 Should peal through earth, should ring in hell. 
 This, seraphs on their harps should tell ; — ■ 
 
 To sleep my last sleep on thy breast ; 
 
 Knowing thou hast poured out thy love, 
 
 A kingly chrysm on my head ; 
 
 Knowing that in one snow-bright thread 
 Our lives from homely distaff move ; 
 
 Flower-pressed towards thee, — as a child, 
 
 'Lated with following the plough, 
 
 Sleeps in the magic of her brow. 
 Who first upon his sobbing smiled. 
 
 If one should say, — the shroud shall fret 
 In two short years those shoulders soft, 
 Those lips that flowered on mine so oft, 
 
 That hair that floats in glistering net, —
 
 94 DEATH OR BEREAVEJIENT. 
 
 Her name shall all forgotten be, 
 As clover bruised by a swift horse, 
 As winds discovering yellow gorse, 
 
 A vestige of faint memory, — 
 
 I would not broach the jealous truth, 
 That some dream on, and some die out, 
 Lest the ephemeral world should flout 
 
 At hearts that break in stubborn youth.
 
 95 
 
 BIONDA. ^ 
 
 O FAIRER than white violets dewstarred. 
 
 Fresh as the lily-cup that swings in air. 
 Spurn not the homage of a youthful bard, 
 
 Who, in his tinsel ouch, sets gem so rare. 
 Many are fettered by the delicate flood 
 
 Of golden hair; most love the rowan-red 
 That decks those lips where Purity 's withstood 
 
 By Love, for empire; all the heart's blood shed 
 For one faint smile of that soft-shadowed mouth, 
 
 'Neath whose proud arch the too presumptuous 
 cowers. 
 Would surely satiate an ogre's drouth, 
 
 Or people all the earth with crimson flowers. 
 More rush to see their shadow in her eyes. 
 
 And, like Narcissus, in their mirror perish ; 
 Their epitaphs at best are monodies. 
 
 For such orbs oft attract, — but seldom cherish. 
 / love her, for her justice and her faith; 
 
 Her honest scorn, that always has its lash on ; 
 Her innocence that mounts without a scathe, 
 
 Upon the spotted palfrey of rouged Fashion ; 
 Her charities, that like Godiva's, bathe 
 
 In light the blush, and chase the frown away. 
 Round ever from her presence, — bafiled passion, 
 
 And malice, spring not on so fair a prey !
 
 96 
 
 SIDE BY SIDE. 
 
 As two birds rushing from the wood, 
 
 What time they leave the nest together. — 
 With consonant flight and blended feather, 
 
 Hustle across the azure flood ; 
 
 As foam-orbs, floating on dark tide, 
 Approach, with iris-tinted sphere, — 
 Aye speeding faster and more near, — 
 
 Crack mirrors, and together glide; 
 
 So mingled our heart's music, love ! 
 
 My hand slept on thy slender breast. 
 
 As half in earnest, half in jest, 
 We chronicled our vows above. 
 
 Thy hand my loftier heart did belt, 
 
 While thou didst search with eager smile 
 Of joy, tinged with strange doubts awhile. 
 
 To match it with the pulse that felt. 
 
 O frantic as hot barb caressed. 
 When craven rider reins him oft, 
 Mine bounded 'neath the pressure soft, 
 
 And to pass thy speed, forward pressed.
 
 SIDE BY SIDE. 97 
 
 Never so smooth the maiden's hand, 
 As when it presses close your side ; 
 Never so white her breast's orbed pride. 
 
 As when your right arm is its band. 
 
 Never so dear a neighbourhood 
 
 Show clusters of the creamy May ; 
 
 Wood-bine ne'er clasps so firm a stay, 
 As circled her pure maidenhood. 
 
 Yet, as we swelled the old romance 
 
 Of lass-lorn youth and swooning dame, — 
 Yet as the beats more swiftly came 
 
 And whirled our hearts in Passion's dance, — 
 
 Sudden I heard thy measured tick, 
 
 Old clock, — and saw that grim leech. Time, 
 Praise thy cold cheek, and even chime. 
 
 While we lay erring and love- sick. 
 
 Sudden I felt the Reaper's breath 
 
 Upon my face, — my blood grew cold, — 
 I marvelled that love could grow old. 
 
 And wished for momentary death.
 
 98 
 
 CAPRI. 
 
 spring. 
 
 Whkkefoke dost thou marvel ? 
 This is as nothing to what heaven shall be ; 
 And yet how glorious is the spiral beauty 
 Of these superbient rocks, whose shadows sit 
 Like queens beside them throned! — how deep the 
 
 ocean 
 Drinks in blue draughts of Heaven ! how soft the plume 
 Wavers in snowy dalliance on the helmet 
 Of dark Vesuvius, that can trick itself 
 With gules and deadly trappings of dark smoke, 
 When the immured elements do combat! 
 How languidly floats Ischia, faint with beauty, 
 Like a barque laden with spice-merchandise ! 
 Lo I where, — beside the almond's dainty flush. 
 The fig's broad verdure, and the arching vine, 
 The apple's snow, and poplar, spouting em'ralds 
 In thin -strung necklace through the golden air, — 
 The olives stretch their train of dark green velvet ; 
 As the dark thoughts that lie beside the bright, 
 Straining them fiercely to their bridegroom breasts ; 
 While, 'neath dim mountains, snow-betrayed Sorrento 
 Kneels down to drink; and that Arch Siren, Naples 
 Toys with her white arms in the candid air !
 
 99 
 
 PAIN. 
 
 Pain, Spirit that art merciless, and forgest 
 
 With devilish ingenuity of power 
 
 Thy myriad jagged instruments of torture ; — 
 
 Some, teethed Hke the Roman saws that severed 
 
 The Christian's winged soul from shuddering trunk; 
 
 Some, wreathing as the Malay's poisoned crease ; 
 
 Some, bent and barbed, like the thin small hook 
 
 On which old Isaac Walton played his fish ; 
 
 Now, sharp as Soliman's web-parting scimitar ; 
 
 Now, heavy as king Richard's brain-fed mace ; 
 
 Thou Pirate, — that with ruthless hand dost throw 
 
 The grappling irons of agony aboard 
 
 Youth's painted argosy, — thou sudden Vampire, 
 
 That with thy noiseless wings dost poise above us, 
 
 Even while we sleep, — and, with thy small sharp teeth 
 
 Dost make incision in our fevered bodies, 
 
 And drop by, drop drink up our heart's best blood, 
 
 A smile upon thy "gory- vizored face ; — ■ 
 
 Thus, thus, I set my foot upon thy neck, 
 
 And, itripping off the weeds and gyves of Sin, 
 
 Mount with a chastened soul to Heaven. There thol? 
 
 Shalt never enter !
 
 100 
 
 BORN BLIND. 
 
 Alas so blind is pollard-visaged youth, 
 
 Aias so arrogant is golden health, 
 Surely he saw not the deep precious truth 
 
 That g-lowed on him from her pure eyes by stealth; 
 And when her soul, like lowly Ganymede 
 
 Offered its richest draught on bended knee, 
 Touched with his curling lip the sumptuous mead, 
 
 Then flung it from him all discourteously ! 
 Now, ever mourning o'er the shivered gold. 
 
 Fair chasing, rent, — and sportive bubbles spilt, — 
 In vain the battered fragments shall he fold 
 
 To his fool's heart ; in vain, with specious gilt, 
 Repair the pieces — he has lost the hold 
 
 He had upon that maiden's budding heart — 
 He feels that he is lated, grey, and old ; 
 
 None welcome him, nor at his footstep start — 
 She awes him, with a presence scornful cold, 
 
 As Alpine ice that tops a million flowers 
 Yet thaws not with the summer. Wrinkled, worn. 
 
 Too cowardly to hood the weary hours 
 'Neath a monk's cowl — too dismal and forlorn 
 
 To cull another rose, — he wends his way 
 A broken-hearted coxcomb to his grave ; 
 
 Where she shall mourn, aye weep for many a day, 
 And with bright tears his molish spirit save !
 
 101 
 
 LONG-LOST BROTHER. 
 
 Where infant angels twine their rounded arms 
 And shake their lily wings with innocent might, 
 
 Where tiny stars shrink from the world's alarms 
 In gravity and depth of infinite light, 
 
 There, long-lost brother, dost thou lead a choir 
 Of voices marvelling at their own sweet spell. 
 
 There dost thou bathe thy cheek in rosy fire, 
 And tinge thy chastened feet with asphodel. 
 
 Droop from the glittering web of clustered orbs, 
 Lean from thy place amid the amaranth bloom, 
 
 Into the sable arch, that all absorbs 
 
 In dingiest colour and most horrid gloom : 
 
 And let my sinful ear drink in the strains 
 That flood with adoration feet divine, 
 
 That cope Hell's cunning, and give drowsy pains 
 To fiends that in their lurid grandeur shine. 
 
 My soul shall be enlocked in thine, and thrill 
 With the full surging music of thy peers. 
 
 With saintly vows, I to the brim shall fill 
 
 Hope's nectar-cup, and empty out Earth's fears.
 
 102 
 
 DESOLATION. 
 
 I SAW a garden, briar-choked and neglected. 
 The air, — with hemlock and snake-trails infected. 
 Slumbering above the toad- usurped fount. 
 Stirring the bubbled weeds, that slowly mount 
 And mantle the clear depths with noisome green, — 
 Seemed poisonous all, — but in the midst was seen 
 One fresh musk rose that swung, — I saw a lady 
 Pensive and sad, along the alleys shady 
 Pacing with tiny feet; the tear drop grew in 
 Her jetty eyes, to gaze upon such ruin ; 
 And much she mourned her favourite bowers torn, 
 And much she mourned the flower-beds all forlorn, 
 (Where once were ranks of flaunting courtiers found, 
 Perfumed and rainbow hued, to stand their ground 
 Against the nausea and decay of time,) 
 Now bearded o'er with moss, or choked with slime. 
 Much mourned the rankspun grass that erst was 
 
 mowed 
 As smooth as her own cheek; the grapes that glowed 
 Above the path, clad in transparent robes. 
 Their palms scarce holding up their turgent globes; 
 As one who burthened with o'er-precious love. 
 Drooping, can hardly from his bent knees move,
 
 DESOLATION. 103 
 
 Or casement all too slender for the hues 
 That slant from the stained oriel, — much she rues 
 Their place polluted now by mandrakes grim. 
 By foxgloves garish, and by nightshade dim. 
 Much mourned she those for whom she'd oft ungloved 
 Her gentle hand ; whose company she loved ; 
 Wooing and wooed, friends of her maidenhood. 
 When she was ever in a hopeful mood. 
 Carnations damask-cloven ; tulips pied : 
 And Chinese primroses, that open wide 
 Their azure eyes with wonder at the sun ; 
 And double violets in dark coronals spun ; 
 Twin purple, and twin perfume ; lilies white. 
 That hold their whispering load of petals tight. 
 Cresting the oar-shaped leaf : and tender pink. 
 Flushed like a sea- shell — sensitive plants that shrink 
 From a child's breath ; cardenia, that flings, 
 From flowers like feathers out of angels' wings, 
 Incense too sweet for Nature ; clustering band 
 Of vervain pink that stains the maiden's hand ; 
 Young passion-flowers that front the mouldering wall, 
 Flouting caducity ; pert dahlias tall, 
 That hold a jubilee of masking colours ; 
 Azalias, that bloom in languid dolours, 
 Sickening with their own loveliness; the host 
 Of little childish flowers that charm the most, 
 Anemonies, belUng heath, — all, all are gone ! 
 All, all are gone, no more shall downy drone. 
 Leaning upon the heart of some loved bloom, 
 Buzz on, forgetful of the evening gloom.
 
 1 04 DESOLATION. 
 
 When he should be wax-shrined ; nor eventide, 
 With chilling breath fold up the flowers that vied 
 In openness — emblem of mortal dread 
 That closes up some hearts before they're dead. 
 So murmuring ; wandering from the ruined gate, 
 With pace unequal, eyes disconsolate. 
 Her circling feet she gradually brings 
 To where the faithful rose all lonely swings ; 
 With what deep tenderness, — how glad a start. 
 She strains it to her loudly beating heart : — 
 The world's the wilderness — the flower am I — 
 Or wear me next thy heart, or let me die !
 
 105 
 
 DESPAIR NOT. 
 
 Men sin and weep, but Angels glorying smile, — 
 The giftless earth shall last a little while : 
 More, as perfection feels not inward passion. 
 All is imperfect that we mortals fashion ; 
 But God our imperfection to requite. 
 Grants what He moulds in clay shall live in light ; 
 Belike then, men who courage have to think. 
 Will rise eternally, not hourly sink. 
 
 F ;>
 
 106 
 
 THE POACHER'S RE.VORSE. 
 
 Ah ! if I ne'er had touched another's game, 
 
 I should not feel this load of guilty trouble ; 
 
 The hare still kicks, — the death- wound's crimson 
 bubble, 
 Swells on the keeper's front, whose love of fame 
 Led him to brave my arm, to shout my name ! 
 
 Still pipes the mottled partridge from warm stubble, 
 
 Still speeds the leaden charge from barrels double. 
 But my sport's over, — and my spirit's tame. 
 This young man, while he lived, I hated sore. 
 
 His feet, that hunted me, are now ice-cold. 
 
 He wooed my lass, — but soon he will be mould. 
 Now for the guilty burial I abhor ; 
 
 May the red leaves in secrecy enfold 
 This horrid figure that will breathe no more. 
 Gleeful he vaulted o'er the cover-^ate. 
 
 Joyful the dew from the coiled hemlock brushine. 
 
 Or with uphfted arm his young dogs hushing ; 
 Poor Harry! — little knowing his hard fate. 
 
 His blue eye gleaming, and his smooth cheek 
 flushing. 
 
 That now a shapeless mass the briars are 
 crushing — 
 He was a fine lad — mortal fond of Kate.
 
 THE poacher's REMORSE. 107 
 
 Oh God, how shall I fly from this foul spot ! 
 
 My feet are spell-bound, and I would be stirring, 
 But cannot move — the gos-hawk , 'hove me whirring, 
 
 Seems to discover that the verderer's shot : 
 
 Sees the fixed eyes, and snuffs the plashy spot : 
 A soaking red the hawthorn bloom is slurring, — 
 Oh God, I am a Cain, — accursed and erring. 
 
 Reveal to Justice — but desert me not !
 
 108 
 
 PROGRESS AND CHANGE. 
 
 The hisped hern and the dame's yellow plumes 
 
 Are stirring the soft reed-prisoned air, 
 And many a broad-reined palfrey fumes. 
 
 And many a squire's curled head is bare ; 
 While the swan ruffles down the still still stream, 
 The swan ruffles down the stream. 
 
 The marsh-flags creak, and are glued with blood. 
 
 The old old turrets are battered down ; 
 And all for a cursed Parliament feud. 
 
 The knight's mouth is sealed by the heel of the • 
 clown. 
 But the stately swan swims down the stream, 
 The swan swims down the stream. 
 
 Peacocks of yew, and squared hornbeam, 
 And green " lusthuises"i deform the park. 
 
 Show- ditches drain ofi" the vagrant stream; 
 
 Where challenged the red- deer, now nestles the lark. 
 
 And the swan's wings lash a narrow pond, — 
 
 The swan's wings lash the pond ! 
 
 > '• Lusthiiis," a Dutch summer-house, such as were com- 
 mon in the old formal style of landscape gardening.
 
 PROGRESS AND CHANGE. 109 
 
 Foul cinders eat up the belts of bloom. 
 The navvy's smock wild hyacinths stain. 
 
 Old oaks have been felled to make railway room. 
 The scorched firs shrink from the thundering train. 
 
 And the dead swan drifts down the dreary canal, — 
 
 The swan drifts down the canal !
 
 no 
 
 THE TEMPTRESS DEATH. 
 
 A SKY, that would be sad, but cannot quench 
 
 Her crimson, hangs above the desolate rock ; 
 
 Even as a careless child with rosy cheek, 
 
 Bends o'er the pallid lips and stiffened beard 
 
 Of her dead grandsire. Evening, lingering still, 
 
 Creeps through the massive skull of hideous caverns. 
 
 As pensile gold that chngs to shrined bones ; 
 
 Then fades away with one despairing look. 
 
 Like lovers whom pride parts : — the sea gull floats 
 
 With soughing wings across the leaden air. 
 
 Shrieking aloud. One pale star stands aloof 
 
 A lofty spirit, all too little marked 
 
 To hold companionship ivith lurid 07'bs ; 
 
 Dayhght has masked but half her face, and glitters 
 
 Through her dark vizor at the weary world ; 
 
 The fair sea rocks her monsters in dull sleep, 
 
 Softlv encircling them with spray-blanched weeds, 
 
 And mocks us, with that still profundity 
 
 We search for in men's hearts — but never find. 
 
 Now is the time to plunge — and crash the mirror 
 
 Of Sea, and Life !
 
 Ill 
 
 A DYING ATHEIST. 
 
 His cables strong are sand-wove rope, 
 
 It is the courage of despair 
 
 That grinds the teeth and knots the hair, 
 Not the calm fortitude of hope. 
 
 Think you the wheel-crushed grinning cur 
 Whose head the heavy tire has mashed, 
 Dies like the hound, with ten points gashed. 
 
 Whose master's banners o'er him stir.'' 
 
 One, dies betrayed, — with none to cheer 
 Or soothe his pains to atomy — 
 One, with the well-known melody. 
 
 His Master's voice, rife in his ear.
 
 112 
 
 NOT YET. 
 
 A WRETCH once loudly sang to his soul's wings, 
 
 " Why do ye linger ? 
 " Fly from this world of beggars, and of kings, 
 
 " For Time's rough finger 
 
 " But stains your freshness, frets your plumed 
 ''And with mean fetters [down, 
 
 " Ties down a spirit lordher than his frown, 
 " And blots God's letters." 
 
 Then did his soul return a ready speech; 
 
 " O foolish mortal ! 
 " Think'st thou unchastened wings may safely reach 
 
 '' Heaven's purest portal.'"
 
 113 
 
 NEWS FROM GENOA. 
 
 Faintly, and with a deadening frosty grace, 
 
 I parried wit, or grasped the friendly hand : 
 In heaven there Hved no blue, in earth no space. 
 
 My soul was manacled with iron band. 
 One lingering hope ; she lives, and joys with others 
 
 In glittering communion, dainty youth. 
 One hope, — both health and innocence, her brothers. 
 
 Guard her from harm, and shrine her beauty's truth. 
 Then spake one of my friends ; unconsciously 
 
 Plunging the cold steel in my giddy flesh; — 
 " You that brood o'er past love, luxuriously, 
 
 "And joy to have escaped the diamond mesh, 
 " Know that your pretty Eve, with hair ofP-flowing, 
 
 " As from her soft cheek stirred by summer's breath, 
 " With love-steeped lips and eyes all azure glowing, 
 
 " Lies ill at Genoa, pining to the death." 
 With that resumed his pipe, and puffed a cloud 
 
 Carelessly in my face ; it hid my start. 
 And the half swoon that draperied like a shroud 
 
 My parted lips and faintly ebbing heart. 
 " You know she w^as consumptive," — he resumed; 
 
 (I smoothed my features in a neighbouring glass ;) 
 " Her blushes hectic, and her frail form doomed." 
 
 He drew a whiflf, and careless let it pass 
 From his light curls and happy vacant gaze ; 
 
 '' O yes, I know it," — calmly I replied;
 
 114 NEWS FROM GENOA. 
 
 And strove like a wild beast, fuming and netted, 
 
 And felt I should have fallen down and died, 
 If the desire to see her had not fretted 
 
 My inmost soul. — Then rose the painful scene ; 
 Where Genoa, with her swan's crest, cleaves the waves 
 
 In fresco-flooded palace bower is seen 
 A wasted form, with bleeding mouth that raves 
 
 Beneath a rose-embroidered dome of chintz. 
 On languid folds one drooping hand is lain, — 
 
 (Fled the harp-wakening skiU, and orient tints,) 
 And listless plays with the net counterpane ; 
 
 Pale as a jasper in the furnace blanched. 
 Save one spot which for shame the fire has spared. 
 
 She, from whose lips 'midst rippling smiles was 
 launched 
 The Nautilus jest, — whose bosom like doves paired, — 
 
 She, for whose eyes all poets were enlisted, — 
 Lies shuddering in death's fangs ; a childish wreck ; 
 
 The topaz-fountain of her hair is twisted 
 In helpless hurry round the marble neck — 
 
 Her placid pearly front, so free from guile. 
 And sparkling cheek, are swathed in russet wimple, — 
 
 The shivered fragments of her well-known smile 
 Are gathered in a mournful stiffened dimple, — 
 
 Eyes, that erst shone too bright to drop a tear. 
 Are burning fiercely with false fever's stare, — 
 
 And I must not attend — must not be near — 
 Nor weep at night behind her lamp's sick glare !
 
 315 
 
 LAST THOUGHTS. 
 
 Before we die, we surely shall remember 
 Him who once died for us ! before we die, 
 We shall forget those that we hopeless loved ; 
 We shall remember those that loved us well. 
 Watching their slender hopes from day to day 
 Deepen in hectic and fade fast away. * 
 Before we die, doubtless we shall remember 
 Friends who could see our hearts and wish us well. 
 Before we die, doubtless we may forgive 
 The serpents that coiled round our tree of wisdom. 
 In comrade guise — before the death-foam crowns 
 Our lips that arched with love or shook with laughter, 
 Our lips that swelled with smiles or sti'ained with 
 
 sobs — 
 Before we cease to tell the hurried beat 
 Of the fond bosom that supports our head, — 
 Before we cease to note the doctor's time-piece, 
 Or loathe the stealthy measure of his tread, — 
 Doubtless the sun will have a sicklier glare ; 
 We shall regret the earth so little traversed. 
 The flowers neglected and the trees unsown; 
 But when the canvass of this earth is torn, 
 And a new portraiture rolls into glory. 
 All lustre and all grace shall be revealed ; 
 And faint will be our worship, dim our gaze, 
 Before the God whose fabric we despised.
 
 116 
 
 WAIT ! 
 
 Wait till the spring time, 
 
 My own Helen, 
 When the snow drops are in prime, 
 My own Helen, 
 When other soft buds, pale and red. 
 From leafy fetters raise their head. 
 When mottled nestlings are mouth-fed, 
 And parent's eider-down is shed ; 
 Wait tUl the spring time ; 
 To despair is a crime, 
 Helen ! 
 
 Yet if my heart, as a thin urn 
 Of crystal, break, and I be shorn 
 By death of all my flowing locks, — 
 Believe not in Earth's paradox. 
 Nor be persuaded love is lied 
 When the blood is cold and the breath is sped, 
 Dear Helen ! 
 
 But mourn for me in the spring time, 
 
 That am dead in my prime, 
 Helen !
 
 WAIT ! 117 
 
 Mourn for me in the greenwood wild. 
 
 Where the flowers wear their purple, and goldfinches 
 
 build, 
 When the daisies are strung, and the cowslips are piled, 
 Say — " He loved me well, though he was but a child," 
 
 Helen !
 
 118 
 
 A MEETING. 
 
 To rein his liorse he made a faint endeavour ; 
 She leant back in her lace, and coldly smiled 
 Upon his swooning face, so sad, so wild ; 
 And while th' indignant rivulets of his blood 
 Leapt ringing through his frame in furious mood, 
 Her pulse kept fashionable time for ever ! 
 This is thy golden tilth, slow-ripening hope ! 
 To love, on earth, God gives ttiis narrow scope !
 
 119 
 
 VANITY FAIR. 
 
 O WHEREFORE, then, such diverse bloom ? 
 O wherefore then so many shapes, 
 That memory shrouds beneath dull crapes 
 
 Woven in disenchantment's loom ? 
 
 Dost thou not drink, unmated soul. 
 The flashing nectar of this truth ? 
 This world is but a fairing-booth. 
 
 Where clownish fathers gilt toys dole. 
 
 And some are fashioned after Queens, 
 Some bear to sylphs a semblance faint, 
 Some too are given the hue of Saint, — 
 
 While yet the leaven is in its teens !
 
 120 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 If 'twere not for the God who rules this verse, 
 Deeply and with a darkling mind I'd curse 
 Thee, Disappointment — and thee, trifling world ! 
 Ye, when the sails of genius are close furled, 
 Mourn the majestic ship, that should have sailed 
 With flags triumphant, from small craft that railed • 
 Against his shapeliness and majesty. 
 O sighs for suns long set I O travesty, 
 Of all that should be generous and good. 
 Why did ye not admire the tree that stood ? 
 Ye, that his murmur stop, his umbrage sever. 
 Mourn for his silent nakedness for ever ! 
 Shall heaven whisper him that he is great, 
 And yet not make them dread the poet's hate ? 
 The silken laugh of well-dressed dames, who stray 
 From lips inspired, their fair cheeks turned away 
 In scornful heedlessness ; the homage wanting 
 To him who should command it, without granting. 
 Their life of cant, and artificial graces. 
 Their flimsy persiflage, contemptuous faces 
 These bitter are, — but more than this, the wound 
 Is given by those, who are most strictly bound 
 To cherish and respect. Thus then, a poet. 
 Though moths and butterflies lamp-singed, niay'nt 
 know it.
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 121 
 
 Is a sweet flower by angels' fingers crowned, 
 And all should harmonize to him, around. 
 
 But let them, with a sophist's envy, shrink. 
 Nor bow the stubborn knee ; let violets wink, 
 Their purple wasted, and their fragrance lost 
 Beneath the moss ; let priceless gems be tost 
 Into the depths that see no cheering ray, — 
 The Dead Sea of Neglect ; throw pearls away. 
 And keep your oyster-shells ; with hood and covi-} 
 Muffle the beaming front. Well, — a churl's scowl. 
 Dims not the dew that beads the purple plum, 
 Nor strikes the greenwood's purfled songsters dumb ; 
 He stamps his clotted heel upon the snow. 
 But whiter combs and wreaths are spread below. 
 So children with faint fury aim a blow 
 At some calm marble front. The God who gave 
 A poets' soul, will plant with flowers his grave I
 
 122 
 
 LATE FOR A CHRISTMAS DINNER. 
 
 In time for buttered ale and grand plum-pudding. 
 
 Why, Godfrey, where on earth have you been hiding ? 
 
 Surely you've not been staring all this time 
 
 At fifth-form beauty, in the shimmering depths 
 
 Of that great Hylas-pool, ray lady's glass. 
 
 Betty, I'm sure some nymphs have pulled him in; 
 
 His tie's awry, the well-starched muslin ruffled! 
 
 This, for young Eton, Sir, is most surprising — 
 
 What have you been about ? — I left you knotting 
 
 The ninety-ninth cravat in killing white. 
 
 Whilst your fond parent brushed your hair all 
 
 wrong, 
 And pinned the hot-house flower, and wet the 
 
 cambric 
 With half a drop of lavender — A rush 
 Of satins, and a surge of shipwrecked lace, 
 A throwing overboard of swansdown, ribbons. 
 Lip-salve, faint essences, discarded bracelets; 
 More I remember not ; but fled aghast 
 Before the phalanx of her well-dressed charms, 
 Supposing you already half down stairs ! 
 You 've lo'it the beef and venison, but are not 
 Too late to face green holly and blue flames. 
 Lo ! where it comes in state — the only castle 
 An Enghshman can boast in these steam-days. 
 His own Plum-pudding — (made by his French cook).
 
 123 
 
 HOME. 
 
 O MISTS that rise — O flowers, that peer 
 Through morning's fresh and azure veil — 
 O maid, whose eyes half-open fail 
 
 To mark the wood, to sweep the mere. 
 
 Old court, — built in Queen Bess her prime. 
 With casements arched and ruddy stones 
 Old rookery, fragrant with fir-cones. 
 
 And belfry with quaint buttery chime. 
 
 Old park, — where oft my horse has crushed 
 The dew-blade in his wild career, 
 Arching his neck to pride and cheer 
 
 His rider, with twin freedom flushed. 
 
 For you, for you, I make my moan, 
 For you with tears I mock the dew ; 
 An exile to my own home true, — 
 
 And long to mount my Percy roan, 
 
 And take one gallop by the fern ; 
 
 Trot by the beech for old day's sake. 
 Swim but one circle in the lake ; 
 
 Fly with the deer ; laugh with the burn ;
 
 124 HOME. 
 
 Then canter back, and steal a slice 
 Of sweet home-bread, to lure him in 
 Foaming and hinnying to his bin, 
 
 Which he'll refuse with gestures nice, 
 
 As though he were a dainty lord. 
 
 And toss the foam flakes on my arm, 
 And glance, with favourite's sweet alarm, 
 
 His wish to press again the sward. 
 
 Then, printing on his satin crest 
 A farewell kiss, to tear away 
 To where the silvery pond-carp play. 
 
 And by the crumbling dial rest. 
 
 Then saunter down the alleys pleached, 
 And plunge amid the belted bloom. 
 Or loiter in the orchard's gloom, 
 
 Or where the haystacks are sun -bleached. 
 
 And wrestling with sweet out-door thoughts. 
 
 To face all feebly the hot flush 
 
 Of glass-crowned flowers, and fragrant hush 
 Of library, in old snare-books caught, 
 
 Marked with the purple of past days 
 
 When she (a bitter memory,) 
 
 Picked heartsease and turned leaves for me. 
 And was all passion, all amaze;
 
 HOME. 125 
 
 Wrapt, spell-bound, in some old romance. 
 
 Or buried in a buckram tome 
 
 Of decent manners, or at home 
 In golden legends, jousts of lance. 
 
 So pious-wise, so dectjnt-coy,] 
 
 We read through all the mouldering books. 
 While plashed the fount, and cawed the rooks, 
 
 And the fat spaniel gasped for joy. 
 
 Wire-worms in oaken peach-orbs coiled, 
 
 Were not as happy as we were; 
 
 Dark panels at red fires did stare, 
 Where green sap curdling fiercely boiled. 
 
 And as for book-worms, we knew all 
 
 Their punchet holes in deep brown stain, 
 As if in ambush we had lain 
 
 And slowly gnawed a whole book stall. 
 
 Her dimpled chin she lightly leant 
 Upon my shoulder; one jet curl 
 Spun o 'er my face with giddy whirl ; 
 
 Her heart's beats through mine came and went. ■ 
 
 O days of pleasure undefined! 
 
 O peerless lady stolen from me ! 
 
 They 've cut down the twin-boled beech-tree. 
 The lady's bower, — for coals is mined.
 
 ]2r> 
 
 TO A CHILD TORTURING A BIRD OF 
 PASSAGE. 
 
 Aye! crush his wings, and hamper with coarse thread 
 His delicate talons ; let his plumes wide spread 
 Flutter in hopeless pain, — those feet no more 
 Shall pierce the azure or shall print the shore, — 
 Then, fold them silent in a fierce caress, 
 (O cruel imp !) — whence no real happiness. 
 So have I seen a soul, that might move all, 
 Wounded and fettered by a light girl's thrall ; 
 So have I seen the wings of genius prisoned 
 By some dull piece of flesh with art bedizened ; 
 So have I watched her tear the wings apart, 
 And laugh to see the full beat of his heart : — 
 But this poor bird shall 'scape. So, — throw him 
 
 high ! 
 Laughest thou, imp } Too late ! He cannot fly.
 
 1-27 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 The sun bleeds painfully to death 
 
 Over the wood ; 
 The sad moon dabbles her pale pale lips 
 
 In his sullen blood ; 
 Black violets lay their heavy-crowned heads 
 
 Beneath the moss ; 
 Shrouded in mist- wove pall is the church. 
 
 Her Parian cross 
 Faintly smiles o'er the dark surging forest ; 
 
 The leaden streams 
 Lie coiled, like dead snakes or breath-sprent armour; 
 
 Gone are the gleams 
 Of lightjthat rushedforth from their green-wood prison, 
 
 So free and bold, 
 And linked those grey rough pebbled depths 
 
 With hauberks of gold ; 
 The evening's frozen and glamourish spell 
 
 Is in the air, 
 And we say of our first love, the day just flown, 
 
 " 'Twas passing fair !" 
 The calm sea lies like a faithful hound 
 
 Dead at Earth's feet, 
 And the ships glide by like flakelets of snow. 
 
 Silent and fleet ;
 
 1 28 EVENING. 
 
 The wind that would sweep her many-toned harp, 
 
 Shudders and sighs, 
 Wakes no plash from the fountain, no chirp from the 
 bird, 
 
 Where she heavily flies ; 
 Let her circle and pierce through the ghostly towers 
 
 With her maniac cries. 
 And lift up the arras discoloured and torn, 
 
 Ere she sinks and dies ! 
 Within sits a lady who loathes the sad hour. 
 
 By an organ quaint ; 
 The wind and the organ's Banshee pipe 
 
 Mix with her plaint ; 
 Sweet memories of the former joys 
 
 Like flowers up-start. 
 And embracing lament that they ever were torn 
 
 From her wasted heart, 
 Till the voice and the organ are stifled with sobs 
 
 Crowding quick on each other, 
 And she hides her head m her desolate hands. 
 
 Her tears to smother !
 
 129 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 I SAW the poet fling his weary length 
 Upon the sun-burnt moss, by the fount's marge, 
 And oh ! he said, the weight of this gold harp, 
 Which I must sling for ever on my shoulder ! 
 If i could merge its chords in the blue depths. 
 These slight but painful chords that mesh my soul, 
 Then were I free to love, and be ambitious 
 As other men. O, lotus flowers of fancy ! 
 Never to taste thy drowsy leaf, — to mount 
 The perilous molehills of Society, 
 Without a yawn, or sigh, or bitter sneer. 
 To clasp the real, and shake off the dream : 
 This were the work of common grubs ; but I, 
 Like eye -winged insect lit upon fair flower. 
 Faint with its perfume, dazzled by its colour. 
 Must ever fold and unfold the large wings 
 Of spiritual self-communion, — 
 Wooing the sunshine of another world! 
 
 G O
 
 130 
 
 THE BRIDAL HOUR. 
 
 I HAVE devised to steal away, — 
 
 When glow-worms crawl, in spectral green. 
 And sinking rocks on shadows lean. 
 
 And red lights course about the bay ; 
 
 When the moon softly gilds the strait, 
 As cunning monk o'er missal bent, 
 And maiden's robes with dew are sprent. 
 
 And long barques land their hooded freight ; 
 
 When fig-trees whisper to the air 
 
 What fruit they shield with their broad leaves ; 
 
 And champ and stir the stalled beeves ; 
 And night hawks fluttering quarries tear ; 
 
 When the vine shudders in the cold. 
 Fast crispening from the icy gleam, 
 And dark oars spill the phosphor-cream. 
 
 And faint sea-cries through caves are rolled ; 
 
 I have devised to steal away, — 
 
 A lode-star in my barque shall shine, 
 And point to Ischia's purple line. 
 
 Clog not your heart with cold dismay,
 
 THE BRIDAI. HOUR. 
 
 Nor draperied be with festive veil, 
 Nor prison thy superbient feet 
 In slippers for town damsels meet. 
 
 But down in thy fresh beauty sail, 
 
 To where Tiberius' palace-stones 
 
 Are scooped and tumbled by the wave ; 
 Where murdered legions nightly rave, 
 
 And ospreys add their airy moans. 
 
 There faint not thou, for aught that harms, 
 But cross thyself, and hurry down ; 
 This night, of all our hopes the crown, 
 
 Shall waft us, — in each other's arms, — 
 
 Far o'er the dark star-breaking flood, 
 To younger bloom, to brighter air, — 
 Then, for old scandal, who shall care ? 
 
 We'll clasp back with spring-flowers his hood. 
 
 131
 
 132 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 Open the door ! 
 The pine-faggots blaze, and the pine-nuts are crackling, 
 
 Open the door ! 
 The j)ignoli small, like a maiden's first teeth, 
 Are tumbling about; they shall soon swim like pearls 
 In a brown milUaccio* most fragrant and rich, 
 Like the pollen the bee's thigh-beard sweeps from 
 spring thyme. 
 
 Open the door ! 
 
 Who is this ? — " Death." Come in. How stand 
 
 you ? — " I stand 
 " Upon skeleton toes." So do I : so we all : 
 \Yhat a chill gust that was, that crept down through 
 
 my boots ; 
 I marvel what form / shall make on a bier ? 
 Open the door I 
 
 Here are neighbours, — Ciappo, and Tita, — a score, — 
 All the world and his wife: — O, permit me, Sir World, 
 And Milady his wife, to present you to Death. 
 Monsieur Death, — Lady World; — so, now warm 
 yourselves well. 
 
 Open the door ! 
 
 * Chesnut-cake.
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 133 
 
 Who is this ? — by the glose and the polish and flutter 
 
 And newly turned wheels, I should say it was Humbug. 
 
 Dear Death — kick him out : I can stand you some- 
 times — 
 
 (Though you are a great bore, you have stuffed 
 Yorick's skull) — 
 
 But this Humbug ! — besides he's a king — nay, the 
 king 
 
 Of Europe at least: — Kick him out, kick him out ; 
 Open the door ! 
 
 Who is this.'' O 'tis Beauty — Miss Beauty, I'm sure 
 We 're delighted to see you — pray how do ye do? 
 And how is the Beast ? O — the gout in his eyes. 
 Have ye been to the Specola lately? We 're told 
 Men cut up much better than women: how's that? 
 What slumbering carnations, and bosom that rolls 
 Like a stream-wrestling lily of mellowy gold, 
 What sweet parted lips, and what glozy blue eyes. 
 Purple-steeped as the heartsease held up to the light! 
 But somehow you seem, to me, some giantess 
 Of blanc-mange — quite unmeaning — a succulent hoax: 
 Your eyes are stuck in by French cooks ; they are 
 
 truffles ; 
 You've a Rubens-like glare, Ma'am, that's very dis- 
 gusting ; 
 You smell of flesh — pah ! make a curtsey — retire — 
 Open the door !
 
 134 A WlXTEi: NIGHT. 
 
 Who is this ? — 'tis a poet of genius surprising, 
 
 A painter, a sculptor, a carver and gilder. 
 
 What not, — an American — that licks the world — 
 
 "Jack of all trades and master of none," said our 
 
 fathers ; 
 A cobbler and king: this slashed motley won't suit : — 
 Show him out - e'en U. S. cannot do everything, — 
 Open the door ! 
 
 Friends, be merry, I beg — we'll play puss in the corner: 
 Death — you Hi be puss. — Good ! — or, suppose now 
 
 we try 
 Another game: — Death, you will give crooked 
 
 answers 
 To the Grossest of questions — " Earth, Fire, Water 
 
 Air," 
 You're in all, with a vengeance ; the world's a huge 
 
 skull ; 
 
 Open the door ! 
 
 Who walks home through the snow? 'tis sorrowful 
 
 Death, 
 Brooding over past insults, and wondering if ever 
 Man will learn to appreciate liim. Let him trudge ! 
 What we pray for, we turn up the nose at ; — well — 
 
 well — 
 He's a good enough fellow is Death, after all. 
 Fasten the door.
 
 135 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 The snow that sinks into the ground 
 
 Comes up again in snow-drops : 
 Wrens braid their nesthngs soft and sound 
 
 With the red hairs the cow drops : 
 The horns the hart sheds in the wood, 
 
 'Mid fern-tufts rose-embaled, 
 Warms the squire's bones, or whets his mood, 
 
 When's ghttering knife is shaled. 
 I dare assert there's not a plague 
 
 But blows some flower of beauty. 
 And all that seems so rotten, vague. 
 
 To hoard, is Nature's duty. 
 Corruption's smallest drop or grain. 
 
 By alchemy of aether. 
 Breathes ruby flashing life again ; 
 
 Wings spring from a lost feather, — 
 The u-on that's in a blade of wheat 
 
 May pass through beeve or hero 
 In kindling blood ; of coolth or heat 
 
 Mere atoms know the zero. 
 Sin oft of virtue the price is, — 
 
 And greediness of knowledge, — 
 Hoarse rage begets fair harmonies. 
 
 As the avalanche on snow-ledge, —
 
 136 CHANGES. 
 
 Sounds, — on the wild Eolian lute 
 
 Where Nature's echoes rally, — 
 Till, droning with some shepherd's flute, 
 
 'Tis music in the valley. 
 Lithe Beauty 's but an exhalation. 
 
 Of marbled stark corruption : 
 We breathe tli' aroma of a Nation, 
 
 On crushing War's irruption. 
 We're volatilatized for good — 
 
 Scorched suffering is the blow-pipe 
 Of iris'd Beauty: — the fell'd wood 
 
 To fruitage prime doth slow ripe. 
 Men have explored what most deserves, 
 
 And used all God bestows — 
 We may rejoice if our skull serves 
 
 As flower-pot for some rose: 
 The noble Cyrus, when he died. 
 
 Was magnified to think 
 To what grand use his flesh applied 
 
 In Re-Creation's link !
 
 137 
 
 F. G. 
 
 'Si Bratlj in tf)c (Crtmra. 
 
 O MISS him ever, — in the prime of morning's tender 
 
 green. 
 When the grass is gleaming emerald bright, and 
 
 harts with dew-lips sheen 
 Strip the hmpid mere's pleached canopy, — when 
 
 squirrels are astir. 
 Nut-brown glancing mid the beech-sprays, — and the 
 
 mountain hare's pied fur 
 Is sprent with pearl-sphered dew-drops, — and the 
 
 rathe sweet-surging breeze 
 Rifles miles of honeyed heath-bells, — tubes the wild 
 
 wood's melodies. 
 When new-hatched bulb-flowers cleave the moss, 
 
 with horns of thick-set snow. 
 And cowslips busk their clusters by mead-rillet's 
 
 misty flow. 
 
 Miss him, through Springs and Summers! 
 
 O miss him ever, — when the change of deadly even- 
 ing steals 
 
 Athwart the day's ghast forehead, and her wasted 
 stature reels,
 
 1.3.S F. G. 
 
 Till in gloomy ebbing pulses her faint crimson wells 
 away, 
 
 The mountains sternly closing round the winding- 
 sheet of day ! 
 
 Remember all his gentleness : remember all his 
 grace : 
 
 Remember all the kindliness that beamed forth from 
 his face : 
 
 Let nothing painful or forlorn through vour bereave- 
 ment creep, 
 
 But softly wish to share the peace of his untroubled 
 sleep. 
 
 Miss him, amidst new-comers! 
 
 When fire-traced outlines of past years through dying 
 embers glide, 
 
 Let recollections of his youth soft nestle to your side, 
 
 Nor ever from your full-fraught hearts that plaintive 
 hold relax ; 
 
 So thymy fragrance clings, unspent, to virginal 
 white wax. 
 
 From which the honey drops have welled: — so Alp- 
 crown's silver light 
 
 Bears long the print of eiigles' wings : so violets 
 held tight 
 
 For one night to the bosom-veil, for many days pre- 
 serve 
 
 The spirit of the lover's pledge : — such constancy 
 deserve 
 
 The heroes missed from home !
 
 A DEATH IN THE CRIMEA. 139 
 
 Remember, Time is Human-forged ; there 's no such 
 
 thing as Time 
 For the eternal Soul ; though on mortality's quick 
 
 slirae 
 Men have traced fleeting measurements of an ephe- 
 meral durance. 
 We know that our souls live for aye : this lightning 
 
 bright assurance 
 Lachrymatories shivers! — For a time the flesh 
 
 masque's worn, 
 A lapse unmarked by ^'Eon-lidded eyes that never 
 
 mourn ; 
 Mortality's but the worm-scroll, — the snake-slough 
 
 of God's Aye, 
 To be cast off: the sordid net, through whose rent 
 
 free souls fly. 
 
 Forbid her not to come, — 
 
 The child-cheeked Memory, — for, by such, the free 
 
 in Heaven we link. 
 To fettered souls that pine on earth : — O he would 
 
 never shrink 
 From remembering his stern duty ; so now we need 
 
 not fear 
 To be too dutiful to him: but mantle thick the bier 
 With regal braids of costly bloom, and interrupt the 
 
 course 
 Of common life, to swing the heart's full thurible ; 
 
 nor pause
 
 1 40 F. G. 
 
 Ill jubilant hymns, to consecrate his victory over death, 
 Nay — let them breathe soft angelots, — and poise the 
 solemn wreath — 
 
 Miss his life's harmony ! 
 
 O miss him, England ! for 'twas thy war-tiinbrel 
 
 breathed him on 
 To deeds of high adventure, — but, alas, before 'twas 
 
 won, — 
 That plashy battle-field, — he fell ! None gentler 
 
 were, or bolder ; 
 He fell — not speared by Cossack hinds — but, on a 
 
 comrade's shoulder. 
 Breathed soft thoughts of a princely home, and fiery- 
 crowned regrets 
 That Triumph's clarion sounded not for liiia : — a hot 
 
 tear frets 
 The cheek of those who live for fame :— apart, iron 
 
 captains frowning, 
 Hail his life a pleasant memory, and his death a glo- 
 • crowning. 
 Miss him — until vou die !
 
 141 
 
 C. M, S. 
 
 a Sfati) in JFlorcncc. 
 
 Tijg ot(>>Qovovjxtv unnoc 
 svcaifjiovuji' tot' ciKTy. 
 
 To her regal canopy, 
 Where genii crouch, 
 In Prayers stark panoply, — 
 
 To her throne-couch, 
 
 Lift her and carry her 
 To the soft green place, 
 Where is altar-space 
 Where the saffrons and the daisies rise ; 
 For she was noble and gentle and wise ; 
 
 There lay her down, 
 
 But softly and tenderly, 
 As ye would lower a new-born child 
 With eider-touches cunning-coiled, 
 Bestow her ; and make a great outcry 
 Of grief measureless and immedicable. 
 Clothe her not in draperied sable. 
 But a soft white pall that trickles down 
 Like the snow when the sun resumes his crown.
 
 142 c.M.s. 
 
 To her feet that were whiter tlian Angel-clouds ! 
 Let her gather up th' unfretted shrouds 
 With one majestic hand ; 
 Let her cheek be fanned 
 M'ith croceous fire ; and perfumes blend 
 With the torch's resinous breath ; 
 Let the mourners warily w^end, 
 Nor deem her helpless in her death ; 
 For though she stirs not that queen's head, 
 With one dumb glance she could strike you dead! 
 Let them sway her up and down, 
 As though the soul had never flown. 
 But the pansy spots still freshened on her Psyche 
 
 wings, eye-wrought. 
 As when first the bloom and balm of Eden's nectaries 
 
 she brought ; 
 First paused and lighted on that great flower — Earth, 
 And gladdened all men not blind from their birth ! 
 
 But the Poet ? 
 What shall he now, — grief spent and dirgeless, — 
 
 mutter. 
 To veil Life's glistering vanity and flutter? 
 The clouds roll like plucked fleece ; the arch is blue; 
 The morn smiles lavishly ; coquets anew ; 
 Ah, see now ! if a flower rise fair and rathe. 
 Sudden it pales, and crests Time's wavy scythe 
 The dew still trickling down its face ! — the Lord 
 Needs such : — with such, the earth is thinly stored! 
 To show us how the glorious angel-face 
 Aims at perfection, spheric rings of grace
 
 A DEATH IN FLORENCE. 14; 
 
 Tt passes through, — until, all pride reproached, 
 All love poured in, and all pollution broached, 
 The narrow portal of immortal favour 
 Is passed — and it may front the blessed Saviour! 
 Then let your sackcloth with goldthreads be stitched — 
 God makes, of plundered earth, a heaven enriched. 
 
 *J* 3(? 5p ?f* 5*C 
 
 Yet still soft clouds of gossamer sail on ; 
 
 And birds and children chirp, Life's privilege 
 
 To heedless man ; the skylark and the fountain 
 
 Win upward, — all the city-gates are open, — 
 
 And, as a worm creeps through a iilbei't's shell. 
 
 So enter, slowly, trains of bullock waggons 
 
 Laden with golden grain and fruitage; hark! 
 
 The cheering trumpet-call peals through the streets 
 
 To jealous eaves that nestle gloomy thoughts, — 
 
 As a bright sword cleaves through a heart of lead. 
 
 The meadow's stirred ; the confused elements 
 
 Of voice and colour, merriment and strife, 
 
 Again are put in motion. Li one ear 
 
 That trumpet-call must sleep! Her eyes behold not 
 
 The jubilant pomp: to Her swift-curdled cheek 
 
 The fresh breeeze flits in vain from leafy ouch ! 
 
 But yesterday it seems, I stood beside 
 
 Those spirit-glowing eyes, and could not bear 
 
 To meet the exceeding lustre of her beraity. 
 
 But crouched and trembled like some Eastern slave 
 
 That holds a fair Venetian's torch lit train. 
 
 " Never," she said, — (I trembled at her voice, —
 
 144 c M. s. 
 
 The voice proceeding from ihat seraph-masque;) 
 " Never has health so flooded me as here, — 
 " In this pure air of Florence!" I complained 
 Of gross fat vapours from the impure city, 
 And valley over-ripe: — "No air," she breathed, 
 " But came most pure, from violet-trickling moun- 
 tains, 
 "And chestnut plumy sprays." Ah, glad, the air 
 Entered so fair a temple of God's making! 
 She bore her health even as some supple child 
 Bears clusters of dew-sprentand peai'1-eyed blossoms; 
 Beneath which dainty load his cheek burns red, 
 And his eyes sparkle, for the very joy 
 Abundance gives him. Though I thought, perchance 
 A blended bar of restlessness and scorn, — 
 A majesty of sadness all her own, — 
 Was shed upon her forehead; and sad bloom 
 Lurked in the sov'ran glitter of her mouth, 
 As though she said — "The wild swan hath her mate ; 
 " What mate for me in this dull-spangled world 
 " Of frozen hearts and visages grotesque?" 
 
 Too fair she was for us! in some star- world, 
 She folds the blissful wings, or spreads them wide. 
 Which never vibrate; but in silence move 
 From pause to pause of rainbow-filtering air. 
 Exulting in their sweep, or cleave the tubes 
 Of azure and rose-fire ; the while, rare perfumes, 
 Each moment a new nectary, are snowed o'er her,
 
 A DEATH IN FLORENCE. 145 
 
 And bursts of light and music greet her feet 
 
 Where'er she turns ; soft crowds of hovering spirits 
 
 Vie, who shall fit the diadem on her head, 
 
 Who shake her brown locks free, who fill her hand — 
 
 Her unreluctant hand — with white and red 
 
 Paradisaic bloom ! O sister mine, — 
 
 If I dare call thee sister — many shall 
 
 Forget thee wholly, in their selfish ease , 
 
 Basking upon oblivion's drowsy bank ; 
 
 Too fast the dance, too giddy flame the lamps, 
 
 To mark the lady who but now fell dead : 
 
 But, when the stranger-poet shall forget thee. 
 
 Let the barbed lightning shiver through his veins. 
 
 And let him be a memory God-abhorred. 
 
 me ! I wandered in the bronzed hearts 
 
 Of mellowy forests : gold, and green, and russet 
 Showed the sad ripeness of the falling year: 
 October, with a circlet of dank foliage, 
 Sat on her spongy throne all rotten sapped ; 
 The river, and the earth, and dripping bosquets, 
 Joined in one vast death-dance ! they spun around 
 
 me — 
 The chariots flashed — the horses clattered by — 
 
 1 faltered, " Stay ! your lady is but now 
 
 " Cold glittering in death ! " she never more — 
 On sloe-black steed, with satin rippling crest. 
 Longing to show that he would charge the world. 
 Or slowly prance in quaint and courtly measure. 
 For Her, — will course along the avenue, 
 
 H
 
 146 CM. s. 
 
 Her swift clear voice commingling with the pulse 
 Of his fierce hoofs, that tossed the sweet earth up, 
 High-sparkling ; while the soft air fluted round, 
 Fresh from the chestnut groves and torrent's foam- 
 heard. 
 And mountain's deep-glozed laticlave. " Staj^ stay !" 
 I faltered. Yet the chariots rumbled by ; 
 And not for me was drawn the tinkling rein 
 Nor hushed the May-time measure of the music. 
 " Ye would forget her, guilty churls !" I cried ; 
 And then, a frosty hope, that had been playing, 
 I know not how, for hours about my heart, 
 Wove rimy flowers upon my rippling brain. 
 As Winter on the wdndow-pane. It seemed 
 She was not dead ! she could not be ! I grasped 
 This giant of my dream, and wistful gazed, — 
 Yea, wistful, stood and gazed ! God saw the while. 
 
 Each passing fair that curbed her plunging steed, 
 
 Each cumbrous equipage that wound along, 
 
 I marked, with sickening and expectant heart. 
 
 Lo ! there — her mien, and her old noble air. 
 
 As if she rode out of a Vandyke group ! 
 
 That is her plume I — no, here she comes, reclining. 
 
 Languid, and caught like Thetis in a net 
 
 Of sea-foam lace ! Would that I were the fringe 
 
 Upon that eider-cushion, or the stiff 
 
 Proud fool that canters by her stately chariot. 
 
 And clangs his sword to start the goddess' ear.
 
 A DEATH IX FLORENCE. 14:7 
 
 miserable men ! O careless stabs 
 
 Of Fate ! the beautiful, the angel-crowned, 
 Lie all around in crispi-sulcant swathes, 
 And Time stands in the midst, a poor old dotard. 
 Constrained to use his scythe against his will. 
 And weeps and reaps — and weeps and reaps again ; 
 The sour tears dropping rust upon his blade. 
 Poor helpless dotard with the trembhng arm, 
 What, all amort } Here is another flower ; 
 A darker and less lovely, but what matter ? 
 
 1 offer thee myself; swift make thy circle 
 With its keen razor-teeth, and sweep me down ; 
 
 So may I lie with lost hopes in the grave. 
 
 * * n= * * 
 
 As I paced home, with slow and lingering tread, — 
 
 Half- listening for the plunging of her horse 
 
 And his hot breath and foam-flakes on my shoulder, — 
 
 I saw a young tree lying in the road. 
 
 Beheaded; stript of his green-waving robes; 
 
 Grateful I felt to him, and wept his fall 
 
 As for a brother. " Thou, at least," I said, 
 
 " Didst not forget her ! nay, hast not survived her !" 
 
 How often, with thy lordly brethren grouped. 
 
 Didst thou survey her as she galloped past 
 
 The silken-corded boles; a blithesome Dian,— 
 
 Tossinar her feather and her netted hair 
 
 In rich confusion with the flowing habit. 
 
 Far on the halcyon breeze ; now, firm, erect; 
 
 Now, gently bending, like a bark that dallies 
 
 With the wave's ripple. O in vain, in vain,
 
 148 c.M.s. 
 
 We taunt poor Nature as inanimate ! 
 The very trees, — the flowers, with sultry cups, 
 Mourn with a fiercer grace, a prouder vein, — 
 Refusing comfort, and defying cure. 
 For such portentous wounds, — than do we mortals 
 Yes, here she passed ; then sudden all the flowers 
 Weep for the loss, and droop their wimpled heads. 
 And shut their hearts up with a kindred groan. 
 O ye, the dwellers in that darkened bower 
 Erst-while so gay, — mourn with a stubborn grief, 
 A pent-up, shuddering, portentous grief ! 
 As some swoln river, spurning former landmarks, 
 Pays the proud city's frontage frown for frown. 
 And lifts the sigh-less swans to turret- win dow s : 
 Foaming the little farmer's store away, — 
 Swinging the noble's iron gate, as 't were 
 A pendulum, and shaking to and fro 
 The orchards, like frail reeds, resistless sweeping 
 Life's mill-flukes the wrong way, so that they grind 
 Themselves, not corn, making the jostling houses 
 Rattle their chins, like travellers in a frost. 
 Drinking the buffalo's last swirling anguish. 
 And frantic plunges, with a seeming calm 
 Of bitter relish ; — will not curb his crest 
 Nor bear a hand upon his cataract mane. 
 But clothes the fruitful country in serf's livery. 
 Half-sable and half-gules, and drags along 
 The World by the hair of its head, the heavens fol- 
 lowing, — 
 So floods this grief, so swells this agony,
 
 A DEATH IN FLORENCE. 149 
 
 This hard, pent-up, unconquerable sorrow I 
 
 In vain, with hands stern-clench'd, iron-gauntleted. 
 
 You pluck Grief's hold away, pressing her arm 
 
 Until the blood spouts from her finger-ends : 
 
 Still, maniac-like, she leaps upon your breast, 
 
 And twists new Gordian knots of grim despair 
 
 With 'tense grasp, tottering head, and gaping lips! 
 
 Then, when her force is spent, and you have conquered 
 
 That slender frantic form, — with sudden change. 
 
 She sinks, a loose heap, by the household hearth ; 
 
 Her palms smite on her face like thunder-claps. 
 
 There, starkly griped, again defy your might. 
 
 And, swaying to and frc, she sobs away 
 
 Her soul ! In vain, with vehement force, you part 
 
 Her hands; like snow that will persist to fall, — 
 
 Or dead men's ligaments that will not bend 
 
 Though lying helpless to the living touch, — 
 
 Or as a wild beast, moaning cub-despoiled. 
 
 Still plants its foot where the hunter many times, 
 
 Redoubling torture, thrusts his gory spear, — 
 
 So many times she plants them on her face, 
 
 And drones of losses not to be forgotten — 
 
 Her sides being spent of breath. O let her creep 
 
 With her dull monotone of helpless sorrow. 
 
 Into that nightshade-flower, your heart, and drink 
 
 Her fill of Memory's tears! Go sob with her. 
 
 There is no melangogue for woes like these, 
 
 No bright thought will disperse Death's throned 
 
 vapour ; 
 Therefore dive down amidst the drifting wreck.
 
 150 C.M.S. A DEATH IN FLORENCE. 
 
 And march through eddying rooms of tearful ruin, 
 Through waxen rows of sudden-drowned dead hopes. 
 Grouped quaintly as they lived, though fathom- 
 choked, — 
 And weep the mirror of God's justice clear ! 
 Then let your hearts beat for another life. 
 Where ye shall feel no hushed pulse of the dead ; 
 Where throbless /Eons of superbient joy 
 Shall mock the pendulum of man's unrest, — 
 And waft the airy love-ships to each other. 
 Each a new freight of those beloved who never 
 Shall sail away with pale averted faces, 
 But rather spread their wings together, where 
 God's breath, instead of winds inconstant, lives! 
 Put no more mirrors to her goddess-lips. 
 They shame her refuge city's glassy gold! 
 Burn no more spices 'neath her Psyche nostrils, 
 God's thurible of prayers swings in her face; 
 Nor 'bove the incredible silence of her pulse. 
 Shrined in snow-marble, — turquoise-filleted, — 
 Lament : — for can ye time Eternity ? 
 The brightest bird will drop into the snow, — 
 The flushest rose will shake its compact cup 
 And shower the earth with damask cloven bloom, — 
 It is the will of God ! But comfort ye ; 
 Death is God's labourer, — and what he sows. 
 Is sown for Resurrection.
 
 151 
 
 L'ENVOl. 
 
 Good Mother, wear these soft rhymes round your 
 
 heart. 
 As priests, sin-wounded, wear their kissing ring; 
 And as I stoop in loving I'everence 
 To brush the bloom of rank sin off my lips, 
 By offering to thee, on no foil- lit jewel. 
 No Judas-kiss, — forget what I have been, 
 And strive to think of what I might have been ! 
 
 Good woi'ld, forget the sinner's heady whirl. 
 Self-torn from calm and richly laden channels, 
 Spinning in mad presumption o'er cleft rocks, 
 And falling shivered in a thousand tears : — 
 The water-fall is sprent ; the rainbow-fifr 
 Is over; groping through an ebon pool. 
 Sucking child's comfort from the smooth-cheeked 
 
 stones, 
 And filtered through a crown of fresh, green moss. 
 It puts aside the tangled underwood 
 That with long coils and leprous-spotted leaves. 
 Clambered and trailed and clung to the foam-feet 
 Of its late stedfast golden-sheeted column, —
 
 152 
 
 L ENVOI. 
 
 And trickles its black blood with painful hurry 
 Down mountain-paths, and 'neath the feet of men, 
 To reach a purer and a calmer depth; 
 
 Good earth, when my sad spirit shall be flown, 
 And my head fall back helpless on thy bosom. 
 Forget how oft my heel has stamped the clay. 
 And let me peaceful sleep, and fruitful rot, 
 With brown fircones and pearly bulbs of spring. 
 
 "n.# 
 
 
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