AGN E S AND Other Poems £fC.> ^^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ri - :jti>;v? jr- 1?^ '^ • • iitn JL-ilS >**■ .aK\ ^VkC*^ H AGNES, AND OTHER POEMS. AGNES, The Bower of Souls, AND OTHER POEMS. BY ROBERT CALOW. LONDON AND SYDNEY: REMINGTON and Co., Limited, MDCCCXCIII. All Rights Reserved. PR C(q CON TENTS. PAGE Fancy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i A Zephyr .. .. .. .. .. .. 2 The Merry Songsters 4 Cupid Scorned . . . . . . . . . . 5 The Holiday . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Early Dawn 9 Anxiety 11 The Honeysuckle 12 Rest Not . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 A Sack of Flour (Humorous) . . . . . . 18 To Maidens .. .. .. .. .. .. 25 Antoine's Song .. .. .. .. .. 27 The Orphan .. .. .. .. .. .. 28 Hope .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 29 The March of Life . . . . . . . . . . 30 Spring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Autumn . . . . 36 Gold . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 My Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Work and Rest . . . . . . . . . . 42 Vincent Lee : A Tale . . . . . . . . . . 44 Dionysus . . . . , . . . . . . . 53 The Little One's Rest . . . . . . . . 56 The Maiden's Lost Love . . . . . . . . 58 Other Days . . . . . . • . . . . . 60 May , .. ., .. ., 62 CONTFNTS. PAGE A Birthday Festival 64 The Ring CG The Ingle Nook.. .. .. .. .. .. G8 The Gardener 7G Evening .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 78 In Search of Truth 80 A Fragment . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 The Captain .. .. .. .. .. .. 8G To My Love 92 Larma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Adied to Upper Thames .. .. .. .. loi Boat Song . . . . . . . . . . . • 103 Ode to History .. .. .. .. .. .. 106 The Betrothal .. .. .. .. .. in Love's Cloud 113 An Awakening.. .. .. .. .. .. 115 Discovery of Earthly Love.. .. .. .. 122 In Search of Heavenly Love .. .. .. 124 Prince Imperial: In Memoriam .. .. .. 12G Bernard and Sylvia : A Duet .. .. .. 130 A Hymn 133 A Hymn.. 135 A Hymn . . .. .. .. . . . . .. 137 A Hymn . . . . . . •• •• 139 Agnes; or the Hilly Path. A Tale .. .. 141 The Bower of Souls .. .. .. .. 178 Legend of the Moss Chapel . . . . . . 292 AGNES; THE BOWER OF SOULS; AND OTHER POEMS. FANCY. As pure as the Lily, Sweet as the May, As eve full as stilly. Closing the day. Is Fancy when soaring. Dreaming away, On Love ever poring. Whispering its lay. So gentle its sighing, Lowly and calm On high ever flying, Seeking a balm Exalting our being. Bringing a tear, Denying our seeing Ever a fear. A ZEPHYR. Oh ! could I be the balmy air, What sweetness would I kiss, No luscious fruit, nor dewy bud, Would I in wandering miss. For me the breeze, Should roses seize, And bring their perfume to the bower, Where lover's gay. Upon that day Should feel the essence of my power. My guide should be the butterfly, Wherefrom myself to load ; E'en on my way forgetting not The honey bee's abode. To waft along A sylvan song, To all who beauty were adoring. To Cupid's wing, From song birds bring Their ecstacy when they were soaring. A 2EPHYR. Then hastening from the joyous sound. Of merry village chimes, Far would I go, and burdened bring, Aromas from the scented climes, An ocean shell Would o'er the swell. Bring safely buoyed my gathered spices, Which should be bound To hover round, At fairies' mystic sacrifices. Upon the hawthorn would I sit. Beside the quiet lane, Nigh canopied with chestnut trees. Nor should I wait in vain. With birds above Beguiling love. And saunterers all who might be roaming, To wander near The fragrance clear. That culled I in the pleasant gloaming. THE MERRY SONGSTERS. Come, let us ramble near the streams^ Rippling water pleases, The air is warm with solar beams. Sweet with tempering breezes. Oh ! what a gladdening day it is ! Plark ! hear the merry songsters, Now twittering. Now chirruping. Sweetly, sweetly. Sweetly chirruping. Oh ! let us hurry to the vale, 'Neath the trees all towering. Amongst them, scented woodbines trail. Shrubs of rose empowering. Come thence to while the happy hour, And hear the merry songsters. Now twittering, Now chirruping. Sweetly, sweetly, Sweetly chirruping. CUPID SCORNED. Woe ! woe ! the wind is moaning, For Cupid's love is scorned, And elves are now intoning How fays upon him fawned. In Beauty's bower he wandered. Unbidden was he there ; Yet ere he left he pondered — Its thraldom was so fair. Sore wounded by rejection. To realms despairing hied ; And sickened through dejection. He pined away and died. THE HOLIDAY. Oh ! here in the meadow a sunny day, Come troop ye, come run, come troop. Oh ! come all ye children for sport and play,. To laugh, or to call, or whoop. A ball, a ball, a ball, A scramble now for all ; Now throw it again, while they haste away, To skip and to jump with a glee to-day. Chorus — They sing and they laugh all o'er, As never they laughed before ; But dreaming of gaiety, merriment there. Enjoying so greatly the fun of the fair. Oh ! come, all ye lads and ye lasses gay. Come troop ye, come run, come troop, 'Tis fair, and a bright little childrens'day, To laugh, or to call, or whoop. A dance, a dance, a dance. Give plain and fair a chance, Of kisses so coy, but so sweet to pay, While twirling and dancing with glee to-day. the holiday. Chorus — They sing and they laugh all o'fer As never they laughed before ; But dreaming of gaiety, merriment there, Enjoying so greatly the fun of the fair. Now, hark, they will sing their sweet roundelay, Come troop ye, come run, come troop, And form a fair ring of the mounds of hay, Nor laugh ye, nor call, nor whoop. A song, a song, a song, Let silence joy prolong ; Until in the chorus to join you may With happiest voices with glee to day. Chorus — They sing and they laugh, etc. For strawberries, buns, pretty cakes galore, Come troop ye, come run, come troop, And rosy sweet lips all refreshed the more May laugh then, or call, or whoop. A race, a race, a race. Yet brightens each dimpled face, But many now tumble and fall o'er the hay. Too tired for more racing with glee to-day. Chorus — They sing and they laugh, etc. 8 THE HOLIDAY. Now gather ye girls and all boys in line, Come troop ye, come run, come troop. And bring all your things and your flowers fine, Yet laugh ye, or call or whoop. A ride, a ride, a ride. Till home is fair espied ; When each one shall tell their own tale and say, What all here have done with such glee to-day. Chorus — And slept they when sleep came o'er, As never they slept before ; All dreaming they were in that meadow down there Enjoying still greatly the fun of the fair. EARLY DAWN. Shining now, o'er half the sphere, Lending whilst receiving ; Rivals to yon moon are near ; Triumph ne'er achieving. Brilliant Beacon wander on, Pilot to the straying ; Harbour to the lost, anon ; Never yet betraying. Darkened is the face of night, Starry grandeur wearing ; Clear and snowlike is the light, Earth and heaven sharing. Nature seems awhile entranced, E'en though never resting ; Beauties hourly are enhanced ; Industry suggesting. 10 EARLY DAWN. Peaceful calmness hovers o'er, Herald of the dawning ; Blushing every moment more, Smiling in the morning. Brightening now is all around, Gold ephemeral cheering ; Many a sweet and transient sound. Tells us day is nearing. Full and blithesome is the heart, Nature now admiring ; Praise and worship be our part. Never, never tiring. Now yon skylark soars on high. Cheering mates in rising ; Hark ! the song is in the sky, Man of morn apprising. II ANXIETY. Acute the hearing, keen the wearied sight To catch at every sound and fancied stir Of little things, imagined to concur With transient thought, that fevered in its mighty Is ofttimes checked while in its restless flight ; Confusing systems with the maddening whirr Of rushing errors ; which at first deter The solving of the certain course of right, And then will leave behind a troubled brain. If then our thoughts and wishes do not blend. If then an hour's anxiety is pain. How soothing is the knowledge of the end ! A word may loose the rack, the tortuous strain. And sweetest hours of calm the soul attend. 12 THE HONEYSUCKLE. Come now, tender, sweet woodbine, thy perfume's full power, As an offering to love and old memories dear ; Let Affection's rich incense now cling round the bower, To enchant with its fragrance the hearts that are near. Let us call back the thoughts, and the scenes of the past. That remind us of pleasures that used to beguile, And renew the old love that then bound us so fast With the warmth and the feeling that ushered a smile. Let not all the fond hopes that were fostered yet fade, Nor the sorrows of old be e'er gathered again ; Neither seek for the reason a parting was made. Nor recall the fell grief that o'ershadowed us then. But endow every zephyr that passes with love, To be wafted on high from the dell to the air ; By enriching the wavelets that soar far above We surround us with essences dainty and fair. THE HONEYSUCKLE. I5 Nor the rose, nor the ivy we seek as a friend, For the one has a thorn, and the other a fang, 'Twill absorb and absorb till its victim shall bend, And around its own work like a parasite hang. So, now come, oh, sweet woodbine, and cHng as ye may ; Cling around with devotion, cling surely and well ; For such bountiful love lends a glorious ray, And envelops the heart and the soul in its spell. REST NOT. Nature tells us not to weary, System orders no delay, Weeds will make the pathway dreary, Be our active hands away. Sunny rays are ever changing Places o'er the germs of life, Round the planet ever ranging Shadows trail in endless strife. Onward, onward, e'er increasing. Worldly progress year by year ; Time runs backward, never ceasing Habit brings regret nor fear. Clouds across the sky are driving. Somewhere moves the wind and gale, Death means life, in myriads thriving ; Joy comes after Sorrow's wail. Empire follows Empire falling, Nations rise where sets the sun. Desert and morass recalling Cities that renown had won ; It is Nature, though not seeming, Man but seeks a place to build — Distant shores with wild birds teeming. With the nesting they are filled. REST NOT. 15 Lands are sinking, seas are spreading, Hills arise where shone the lake ; Shrubs and trees anon are shedding What hereafter forests make. Summer's fulness scarcely clearing, Nature takes another form ; Mantling crystals white appearing. Covering, crowding, keeping warm. Webs all broken and distended By the giddy flies at noon. Are at night-time perfect mended. Flies are few beneath the moon. Day by day the busy trappers View their fabrics tear and spoil. Patiently, in green leaf wrappers— For a meal was all their toil. Think, when booms the rolling thunder Through the might of flashing fire, Earth and air then rent asunder. E'er to sit in wanton ire ? Such, with grief, ambition, trouble- Glory in the battle's throe- Thrust beside a bursting bubble To be cancelled with its blow. 1 6 REST NOT. Hive the bee and dress the larder, Scout the slothful and the drone, Lest there come a time much harder, Lest attends but want alone. Active be as restless swallow, O'er the lake and o'er the lea. Hive the bee its life to follow — Times shall come when rest may be. Yet remember youth may never Make the honoured claim to rest ; Hoary is the trunk we sever Thus to sink on Nature's breast. 'Tis the aged past their toiling Are allowed an envied share, Weakness their endeavours foiling ; Nature will no effort spare. Matter drifted, heat adjusted, Elements yet beyond decay, Granite, coal, and sand encrusted, Thatched again with chalk and clay. With the very dust 'twas causing Saving winds have spread the field ; Therefrom, Nature, never pausing. All the wants of life may yield. REST NOT. 17 Surging waters, moving masses, Unto goals, nor seen, nor known. Formed, perhaps, from primary gases. Cutting a gorge through rock and stone. Rests it, think ye, o'er the river ? Rests it, think ye, o'er the sea ? Rests it, think ye, while we shiver O'er an earthquake's liberty ? Other worlds than ours revolving, Each around their mystic sun, Offer problems for our solving Deeper as the ages run. Yet, evolving, or creating, Whiche'er science makes its choice It is certain there are waiting Hearts at beauty to rejoice. So where'er thy idol finding, All excepting work of man, Where thy treasure, there the binding ; Let it be in Nature's span. Call it Light, or call it Beauty, Maybe Virtue, Truth, or Power, Recognised shall be our duty ; God is worshipped in that hour. i8 A SACK OF FLOUR. Now the boys from the schoolroom had rattled away, And the master had taken his frugal tea ; He then gazed o'er the fields that in sunny array, By their smiling suggested a ramble free. Strolling forth by the brooks on that beautiful eve, He sought way, by the which, he might teach next morn ; As he always endeavoured a plan to conceive. Which would interest the boys of the village born. Soon he met Samuel Miles of the farm in the lane, Who was bent on a chat, and a pipe and glass At the Swallow close by. 'Twas as good for the grain To be toasted, as 'twas for a village lass. A SACK OF FLOUR. I9 ■" Ah, good e'en, Master Watts, and, now how is the bairn ? For methinks he's a dunce and his master bad. What d'ye say, Master Watts, can ye say he do lairn ? For 'tis sure that too much 'tis I spend on lad." " He is numbered the sixth in the fourth remove, His attendance is fair and his conduct good, And a question full hard will his progress prove, Or ye try, or ye test, as a doctor would." " Number six in the fourth remove," growled Miles, " Now what crop have I got in partition five. In yon nine-acre field beyond the stiles. Can ye tell me ? nay, yet 'tis as plain as hive Of yon wiseacre lads In their school-form fads, In the fourth remove, But we'll progress prove. For thou wantest a sack, of good flour a sack. Now I'll wager the sack as he sends it to thee. He shall measure the sack, of good flour a sack. And whate'er thou receivest a sack it shall be. 20 A SACK OF FLOL'R. Be it found he be right, thou shall have it free; Be it found to be less, still a sack shall it be ; But for all there is o'er double pay to me ; That my wager is fair, you, I think, must agree." " I agree it is fair And the offer is rare And I have not a care There'll be less or to spare." And he parted from Miles with the matter arranged. And he laughed to himself for the wit of it, For it was but the fruits of a craft interchanged ; And a joke, not a bet — not a bit of it. Surely certain was he that the laddie was bright, Surely certain he knew well his table book, With his sums up to fractions invariably right. Did he reckon the fact of an overlook ? How the boys all would laugh on the morrow's gay morn, When he told them the tale of the floury cross. And of never a word should the tale e'er be shorn, It would teach them the value of profit and loss. A SACK OF FLOUR. 21 Farmer Miles had his chat, and his glass, and went home, Then he called his son Tommy, and bade him expound, The short measure of flour, and not hasten to roam, In the morning's sweet air, ere a sack he had bound. ■" Well, four pounds to a quaartern, four quaarterns a pearck, And four pearcks to a bushel, four bushels a seark." This was what Tom said, As he scratched his head. Where he seemed to store All his figures four. Bringing one now by one In consecutive run, And perhaps by the hour Have applied to the flour, If he had not seen smiles Light the face of old Miles, Who then said it would do for the night. But took care not to say it was right. He then told him to rise with the dawn. And get ready a sack by the morn, 22 A SACK OF Fr.OUR. To be carried to Watts at the school, Nor to measure it wrong like a fool, But to give all the weight that was due ; If not pressed in the one sack take two. Tommy pondered thnt night upon what might be meant, Thought of catches and punishment near or in store. Yet at length fell asleep in the sleep sweetly sent To a child's pretty eyes, but which brightens them more. Then awakened at dawn to the barn bins he ran, And he measured the pounds and the quarterns and all, But a sack he had not, so again he began To consider his tables, the measures recall. He remembered the hint about sack number two. And was seeking the motive inducing the thought ; So he emptied the sack to his labour renew, As a fresher idea hovered o'er and was caught. Then said he, " It be five of the bushels to searck, Why, of coourse, I was thinking of four all along, A SACK OF FLOUR. 33 And two pearcks to the bushel, eight quaarterns to pearck ; Why now, true, I'm an ass, on all fours am so strong." So with extra good care He then weighed out full fair All eight quarterns on top Of four pounds without stop. He thereon of fair pecks threw in two Marking well how the size of it grew, He soon wanted the other sack too. And felt sure that good Watts had his due, As he tied up their necks tight and fast, Having plumped in the five bushels last. Farmer Miles's fair eyes then lit up with a smile, As 'ere sending to Watts he put sacks in the scale. As a sack and a half it went down in true style. And he chuckled at Watts o'er his first morning's ale. No amusing good tale went the school all around, For poor Watts wore a serious face all the day, Little Tommy was punished each day it was found, And the measures unknown had to write and to say. 24 A SACK OF FLOUR. Then the neighbours would laugh, and the boys loudly call, " But a sack and a half, yet he pays for two." " But a sack and a half," was oft seen as a scrawl, And the people who knew it not, soon were few. When the farmer had had a good laugh and was paid, He called Tommy, and went to the barn again. Tommy weighed a half sack now without any aid, It was sent round to Watts then by one of the men. 'Twas then Watts brightened up, and regained his old cheer. And the boys were once more all amused as of old. 'Twas a joke, not a bet, and good Miles was e'er dear As to masters, to pupils, and neighbours untold. 25 TO MAIDENS. Come ! oh ! maidens list ! come, and I will sing To thee of love, 'Tis a tyrant bird, though e'en here and there A gentle dove ; List, and learn to gain courteous lover dear With virgin art. For a gleeful glance, and a dimpling smile Will warm his heart. Let the smirk be coy, with a pretty pout, Thy shoulders shake, Sigh he will and may, for his heart so proud, Oh, let him quake ; So the trout takes bait, play and angle well Thy line draw in ; Then enchant his ear with a pleasing voice, This grace will win. 26 TO MAIDENS. So to whisper love he will come to thee, All silent thou, Whilst all eager ho, thou wilt him allow To kiss thy brow ; With an upward look, and a gaze of love To make him fond, Then a mutual kiss, and a close embrace Will seal the bond. 27 ANTOINE'S SONG. IN BROKEN ENGLISH. Now if ever again to dat sveet little place I might hopefuU)'^ trace back my vay ; Tis de village vhere Lele for beauty and grace Over all oder lassies holds svay. C'est vrai, tra la la, C'est vrai, tra la la. Yet she may have her suitors and rich may day be, And myself e'en forgotten by name ; But dough poor ven I left she a difference vould see, And she vould not be sorry I came. C'est vrai, tra la la. etc. Oh : I tink I should find de same love as of yore, Her affection for me none de less ; If I ask her to be to me just as before And to marry I tink 'twould be " Yes." C'est vrai, tra la la. etc. 28 THE ORPHAN. Pity, oh ! pity the orphan maid Weeping now bitterly as she stands, Where her dear mother in death is laid, Where now she prays with uplifted hands, Recklessly rending her lonely soul, Sinking in grief to the selfish earth, Timid of gaining the heavenly goal, Sobbing at thought of her mother's worth. Silently pondering o'er the grave. Mournfully seeking consoling aid. Memory master and mind the slave. Saddening tears was the tribute paid. Homeward now wending her weary way, Calmly contented with heavenly care. Knowing her mother had gone for aye — Gone to the rest of the good and fair. 29 HOPE. Fair hope methinks is good unto the mind. Dispensing healthy tones to spirits low, Keeping a harmony of life to flow, Our ken refreshing, though itself be bUnd. To poor dejected senses it is kind, Whispering a promise more of weal than woe, Long terms of weary doubt all pass and go As round our hearts the wreaths of hope we bind The strength triumphant o'er the ills we feel Prepares our courage e'er against reverse ; A seeming myth, but with a future real, It spreads a blessing o'er the universe. It will hereafter prompt a soul's appeal And every care and baneful fear disperse. 30 THE MARCH OF LIFE. Dauntless comrades now discover What chaste passion firmly moves thee, Parting brother, sister, lover, What the furnace heat that proves thee. Art of death all callous dreaming, Dogged fighting, never caring ? Weapons all so brightly gleaming In support of mythic daring. Chorus — Brother, no ; 'tis something nearer, Fairer, sweeter, we are needing ; For the Word to us is clearer That commands our joyous heeding. Than to Death our march is dearer, All for Life shall be our bleeding. Ay, for Life. THE MARCH OF LIFE. 3I Stalwart soldier now revealing High the brilliant standard crosses, Where the braver, deeper feeling. Than is shown in Death's dark losses ? Though the object be the rarer, Better good in highest seeking, Canst possess a blessing fairer Than thy parent Earth's bespeaking ? Brother, there is something nearer, etc. Keen the eye o'er distance glancing Marking foemen warriors trooping, Battle scents the charger prancing 'Side of man no spirit drooping. How unfurling banners sparkling Bright reflect the sun-ray teeming, Through the all-wide smoke cloud darklin.j Calmer Nature's peaceful beaming. Brother, there is something nearer, etc. Clarion, dram, and bugle sounding, Drowning cries of pain and writhing ; Strength repulsing, there rebounding, Death the tyrant double tithing. 32 THE MARCH Of- LIFE. Where the vaunted dream of glory O'er the sickening field and region, Trampled deep in moisture gory Where in horror sleeps a legion ? Brother, there is something nearer, etc. Stand ye ready, comrades, ready. Higher raise the cross-like spangle, Here is Death's white steed, oh ! steady. Throw the charge back, rise and mangle. Victory, ah ! falls he stricken. Victory o'er this great anguish. Shall he never, never quicken. Or in torments ever languish. Brother, there is something nearer, etc. Sin's great battle o'er for ever, Life triumphant reigns in glory. Death in sin from Life shall sever, Life in death shall aye be hoary. Sweet this Liberty and surely Death is death, and chains and wailing. Liberty seeks death not purely, For it e'er should Life be hailing. Brother, this is something nearer, etc. THE MARCH OF LIFE. 33 Sing the march of Life, oh, brother. Homeward as our feet are wending, Let not wife, nor father, mother. Sorrow seize from sorrow trending. Measure steps with purer singing, Measure Life by a righteous living ; And the sum will be the bringing Of a soul to th€ Spirit-giving. Brother, this is something nearer, etc. Home at last and welcome flowing From the dear ones now all vieing, Eagerly their love-thought showing By their present crowded hieing. Hail to Life, and all returning, Hail to Life, and all the sleeping. Countless angels now are yearning Deep to gather them in keeping. Brother, this is something nearer, etc. 34 L SPRING. Awaken, sweet spirit of Earth, The sun is now warming thy heart ! Pour forth what thou storest of worth, Give out of thy treasures a part. Display thy gem Beauty, O, Spring ! Spread o'er the dark land thy fresh green ! Let winds scatter seed on the wing To clothe it in glorious sheen. Arouse thee, and shake off thy sloth ! Come, throw off thy dust quilt and frost ! Come, hark thee, and quicken all growth So yearned for ere sun-rays be lost. Burst out of thy f^int-coats, ye seeds ! Uplift your bowed heads to the sky ! Then drink ye the dew honeyed beads And warmth that is shed from on high^ SPRING. 35 Sun ! brighten the skeleton forms, And dress the gaunt trees now all bare. Thy heat draws the sap and then warrris The branches and golden buds fair. Oh, Spring ! let thy life flow with balm ! Give splendour and joy for awhile ! Let, let the old Earth wear a charm, And cheer its old face with a smile. D — 2 36 1 AUTUMN. Fulfilled is the promise of Spring ! How grand is the beauty around ! How thankful all hearts when they bring The harvest all gleaned from the ground ! O, Autumn ! yet cast not the leaf From oak, beech, nor elm, ere we take Full joy of thy blandishments brief, 'Tis hard from thy glory to break. Green shrub, moss, and heather in bloom, In clearing, in copse, and in glade Are sweet to the eye from the gloom O' the woodland's o'er arching cool shade. The bracken, the bramble, and birch Tell surely of freedom and grace ; And woodbine repays for the search When kisses come back in its place. AUTUMN. 37 Ah ! see how the yellows and browns Predominate far o'er the lea ; All red gold or olive those crowns, Those dresses of shrub and of tree. What going to die ? Shall we mourn ?^ Such grandeur to die. Shall we weep ? Nay, 'tis but to rest until dawn — Till Spring again comes they must sleep. 38 GOLD. I threw a little fair-haired boy Some bright and golden coin ; And knelt I down 'mongst many a toy, So in the play to join. More cared he for the noisy tray Than what then glittering rolled ; And his indiflference made me say I would I knew not gold. Oh, let me have the happy smile, And childhood's days come back ; Returning to those joys awhile, The innocence I lack. No care for money, nor its use, Commanding boons untold. The having it begets abuse, I would I knew not gold. AUTUMN. 39 List ! to the songsters in the morn, The breaking bud of day. Their songs upon the breezes borne Receive no gilded pay. They on the boughs no slavery know But wings of freedom fold, Then I will sing my carol so — I would I knew not gold. 40 MY LOVE. I sing a lay unto her eyes Both beautiful and blue, And praises oft upon her hair All of a golden hue. Her form so fine, no bosom soft, Ere rose and fell more pure, I could not from her brightness dwells Without her love endure. Her presence like the full blown rose Lends perfume all around, Her footsteps have a majesty And queenly mark the ground. She meets one as the sunny spring, With bursting radiance clear, Retiring as the autumn does, E'er leaving memories dear. MY LOVE. 41 Yet not too fine for kindly words, Nor charity too proud, Her mind and all her sylph-like form With virtue is endowed. So if she be an angel here, Accepting worldly love, How prized her soul must be on high, 'Mongst seraphs far above. 42 WORK AND REST. Oh, Genevieve ! come sit beside, The day has told its hours full long, Enough thy busy hands have tried. Come sit and mark the thrush's song. We men may work with sturdy arm. And hard and heavy it may be. But when the sun may no more charm. We love to rest, and why not thee. Nay, nay. A woman's work ne'er done ! Come here, and nestle close to me ; If I say rest, loved little one, Why ; let the work unfinished be. I want to tell thee what I thought While at my labour all the day. And how thy fond sweet love has wrought, And how o'er all il held its sway. WORK AND REST. 43 My arm was stronger, head more clear To wrestle with the task and strain, For thou wert there and made it dear, And easier for the end to gain. And now 'tis o'er, our day is done. Let you and I contented kiss ; For He who set the hours to run Meant not to leave no time for bliss. 44 VINXENT LEE. Fit I. Now list ! and I a tale will tell All as 'twas told to me, And how it came and how it fell About one Vincent Lee. Who journeyed to the country side Far, far, away to see, And with his father's friend to bide, A good old squire was he. Right welcome w^as young Vincent made, When he arrived down there. And rich the board before him laid For eager youth to share. He lingering gazed on maiden sweet, As fair he ne'er had seen, As Louie Neale, who came to meet Their guest with modest mien. VINCENT LEE. 45 For miles around was Louie known And loved by every one, Full proud the sire's heart to own That she such love had won. Good were the tales the neighbours told Which he rejoiced to hear, And, thankful, down there often rolled The semblance of a tear. Now Louie all their rambles led And he all willing viewed. While o'er the hills and meads they sped, The gems fair nature strewed. They gaily traced the widening brook Which crossed the opening glade, And then would seek a pleasant nook To rest within its shade. They lightly in the flowery dell Would in the gloaming stroll Until through charming fancies fell A lulling o'er the soul. For Nature sweetly bounds the heart InstiUing quiet peace, When sympathy may breathe a part All thoughts of trouble cease. 46 VIN'CENT I-EE. At eve the song rang through the hall And homely mirth would reign, Until the powers of night would fall Ascendancy to gain. Refreshed by rest, at opening day They to the stream would go, And ample breakfast bring away With each a healthful glow. And thus he came to love and woo The lovely Louie Neale, For Love's return he oft would sue. Yet none could Louie feel. Still time, he thought, would surely tell, And cause her love to flow. For time will often break the spell Of such indifference slow. Now many a day had so passed by And Vincent was to leave The house and all its haunts so nigh At which he could but grieve. Oh ! That a happy farewell stroll With Louie by his side Could gain an answer to console A hope ere now denied. VIN'CENT LEE. 47 He hailed a last excursion then The squire one eve proposed, To take the boat down stream again As far as hills enclosed. They near the falls arrived would see Him angling as they came, Ajid if 'twere fine, the morn would be Fair auspice of their aim. The hours of night passed slowly by, For Vincent restless lay, Impatient for the brightening sky To soon declare it day. Ere long it came with joyous song, And all was fresh and gay, The gates were opened with a throng Of angels in each ray. Fit H. A pretty craft was seen to glide Forth gently from the shore. And pleasantly the oars were plied Ne'er plied so well before. Sweet Louie sat then in the stern And Vincent in the fore, Yet marked he well each point and turn While down the stream they bore. 48 VINCENT LEE. Sublimely grand the picture drawn, The weird and distant hills In warm transparent shadows borne Down o'er the lake and rills. While here the glittering stream received The likeness of a view Of varied scenes above perceived, A sky of every hue. And presently he gently spake Of love with ardent voice, And sought to know if aught could make Him worthy of her choice. Persuasive tones as soft and kind As e'er a maiden heard Were thrown, alas ! upon the wind, Nigh lost was every word. Still slowly came the answer firm, Though yet her heart was free, Be short or long to wait the term In vain it would all be. No explanation could she give- Where is the maid that can ? Enough for her to wish to live The life already ran. VINCENT LEE. Oh ! tell me why his face so changed Which erst with kindness teemed, But now to ashen dulness ranged A very fiend he seemed. May envy fill the mortal frame While mahce struts behind ? Then wonder not that hatred came To fill a little mind. Now smoothly, smoothly, drifting on, Unconsciously too near, The scene around they gazed upon Beguiled them from all fear. They heard no angler's warning shout Against the falls below, Too far the current bore them out. Against which none could row. Ah ! who could think that Vincent knew The villain's part now played. That he who once so ardent grew, Had to a snare betrayed. But so the tale — to frighten one Was all perhaps was meant ; ■Control he lost, the evil done, And to the brink they went. 49 50 VINCENT LEE. Mark ! how the angry torrents pour, A fount of showery spray, As several streams uniting roar Like lions in the fray. Down the abyss they thundering go, In fury seem to boil, And fairy forms and grottoes shew Ere resting from their toil. Above the falls there stood a tree That stretched its branches o'er. He knew to grasp them well might he So save the boat once more. Though chief the thought himself to save From peril now ahead, There Louie sat as calm, as brave, While never a word was said. The scene was wild as rugged broke The rocks athwart the stream. The boat rushed on, 'midst crashing stroke Received on beam and beam. But near the brink it whirled around. The stern towards the bank ; 'Twas then young Vincent fiercely frowned. From thought of death then shrank. VINCENT LEE. .^ cj Now quickly Louie grasped the tree The boat had brought her near, She then close by her sire could see Fast hurrying down in fear. For very life young Vincent tried To gain the branch, but no. He leapt a leap by far too wide, And then was dashed below. Then soon a father's careful arm Assisted to the bank, Brave Louie, safely from alarm, And on his breast she sank. Though distant he had seen the whole, And hastened to the place. He knew the waters had control, Yet ran the futile race. He saw the stern whirl round about, He saw her gallant spring. And also Vincent leaping out — Indeed a desperate thing. He would not say it was deserved : The end young Vincent met : Too thankful Louie was preserved, His own and only pet. E — 2 52 VINCENT LEE. How real imagination grows And tragic fancies seem When night in slumber eyelids close, And thoughts of others teem. The morn it came, and Louie woke As light began to gleam, Around she gazed, and smiling spoke, Convinced 'twas all a dream. 53 DIONYSUS. Oh ! come, ye nymphs, and dance along. Let merry joy create the song. And here and there the cymbals clash. All tuned to harmonise the crash. Ye bright-eyed maidens gaily dance, And with your smiles with joy entrance Attending gods and love-sick swains. Then give them wine to ease their pains, Sileni, Pans, and satyrs come And tune your reeds when maids are dumb. Now hail ! glad Dionysus, hail ! Let naught the festive mirth assail. For see the clustering grapes are wound The jovial god's fair brow around. And there a train of sylphs appear, The cone-topped thyrsus mingles near All borne by virgins laurel-wreathed. Just fluttered by the zephyr breathed ; Now mark the sacred things they bring And in procession gladly sing. 54 DIONYSUS. The tuft-eared lynx first takes the lead, The docile ass next treads the mead, The surly panther, head erect, Is fain to sing, would gods direct. To hail this bright, this sunny day, Sweet birds now herald in the play. A floral chain, sufficient check, Entwined about a tiger's neck, That now, submissive, bows its head, Full proud to be so gently led. The flowers choice that strew the sheen Lend perfume to the joyous scene. And ivy, laurel, asphodel, Enticing bees from honeyed cell. Bedeck the sacrificial ram. Led forth e'en as a peaceful lamb By damsels singing cheerily, And dancing, dancing merrily. Come some from Macedonian dell, From Attica the throng they swell. Mimallones and Thyades, Though frantic, skip in graceful ease, And Maenades with more combine To wreath themselves with luscious vine, The curling snake in honour placed ; For sacred held, 'tis not debased. DIONYSUS. 55 And garlands rich, festooned are seen From female hands to hang between. So fitly gay, the pageant bright, Beguiling both the mind and sight. ■Come fays to serve the goblet round, Whilst featly tripping o'er the ground. Oh, drink to Ariadne fair. The balmy purpling liquid there ; Nor let these orgies have an end, But with bacchantic revels blend The worship of the Grace's three. So quaff now to Euphrosyne, Thalia and Aglaia too. And give them all the honour due. Oh, hark ! the heart's pure music sounds, And with it how the glade resounds, E'en from the groves the echo clear Falls sweetly on the Hstening ear. Such praise from earthly beings' voice With such delights, make gods rejoice. The eager shepherds gather near To join the gala and the cheer, And dance and sing in praise of wine, Of Dionysus and the vine. 56 THE LITTLE ONES REST. A few verses on viewing a friend's child asleep. Sleep, oh ! sleep. Life"s peace is short, A long, long time, oh ! guileless be. While many in vain for rest exhort May Morpheus wave his wand o'er thee. Thy rosy lip, all tempting curve, Alike thy little closed blue eye. Discover neither throb nor ner\e. So animation seems to lie. Oh ! offspring of true happiness, On which the gifts of love attend, May Heaven's love and holiness Full graciously on thee descend. Thou art proud man in infancy. But e'en with scarce incipient power. All guiltless of delinquency ; A bud to ope a pretty flower. THE LITTLE ONE S REST. 57 So purely now are moonbeams shed That even shadows seem to shine, Oh ! be the paths as fair to tread What time in hfe thy steps incline. Oh ! gently press thy downey nest Till wakening eyes declare the dawn, Till birds shall wake thee from thy rest, And sunlight peeps through curtains drawn. New thoughts of children and of men Came trooping past in quick array, Many a thought came o'er me then That, yet, I know remains to-day. How beautiful it looked to me As it was calmly lying there ; So calmly, aye, 'twas heaven to see, Humanity without a care. 58 A THE MAIDEN'S LOST LOVE. The eagle kens the mountain side, And builds its home, The seagull skims the ocean tide, And sips its foam. So merrily shines the sparkling wave, That crests the deep, But naught doth mark my lover's grave. Where I may weep. My soul, oh ! let me follow him ; My early love. I watch, and watch — my eyes are dim, Come back my love ! Nay, nay, the waters hush my cry. And secret keep ; To lead my fancies passing by, Where I may weep. I THE maiden's lost LOVE. 59 The night is come, and yonder star Now seems to call ; Now hoary clouds distend afar A darkening pall. I hail thee, death ! I go where he My heart doth keep, On him to lay my head, and be Where I may weep. 6o OTHER DAYS. There are days we pass o'er with a smile, There are days we recall with a sigh, There are times we are wont to beguile With the searching of memory's eye. There are golden and silver ones there, Some of sunshine dark clouds come across ; But the darker and stormy we ne'er When forgotten, e'er count as a loss. Why not take, then, the days that were good As the kind to be followed for aye ? But we cannot, alas, if we would. There are so many blocks in the way. For, when bright and surrounded with wealth, When at word all fair blessings respond, If no evils attend upon health. Yet one's soul yearns for something beyond. OTHER DAYS. 61 Let them come then, and go as they may, The dull rain, fierce wind, or bright sun ; Whether clear, whether stormy, or gay, All as long as our duty is done. Soon the goal will then be within reach, In those days we no more shall despond, Happy times to be loved, and when each Shall enjoy what was yearned for beyond. 62 MAY. How sweetly the pretty birds sing, This merry May morn. How spritely they flit on the wing, All airily borne. See yonder the blossoming bell. Shy, bowing with dew. The glistening glow of the dell Refreshed all anew. Come quickly, bestir thee my boy ! Out, out to the fields ! Go, gain from the air the full joy, The bloom that it yields. Come rosy-cheeked sister join hands And dance to the sound, Of music thine own, and in bands Wreath blossoms around. MAY 63 When young how we wish to be old, When old to be young. From breezes so loved by the bold A moan is oft wrung. But dance will I now like a child Or run to a mark. Glad voices, this morn fresh and mild, Shall sing with the lark. Oh, oh, the fresh air, the sweet air ! What spirit it lends The weakly alike to the fair ; What tinting it blends. So cheeringly breathe it, and sing Like birds this May morn. And flowers all various bring, Sweet home to adorn. 64 A BIRTHDAY FESTIVAL. Gaily dancing, Joy enhancing, Merrily singing, Verily bringing Glad mirth to the hearth and home. Manly faces, Female graces, Bright eyes beaming. Hearts all teeming With love for the hearth and home. Old folks' stories, Children's glories, Old age mingling, Sex not singling, With youth at the hearth and home. A BIRTHDAY FESTIVAL. 65 Gladsome greeting, Festive meeting, Frowns eschewing Smiles ensuing, 'Mongst friends at the hearth and home. Fill the measure. Hail all pleasure, Sorrow sinking. Toast now drinking " The pride of the hearth and home." She the dearest, To them nearest. Gather round her, Love has crowned her. The Queen of the hearth and home. 66 THE RING. My love she knows not where I am, Yet wonders. My love she knows not how I love, Yet wonders. My love she knows not how I think Of her now, My love she knows not what I bring To her now. Oh ! I will tell her how I walked Alone here, So lightly 'neath the sparkling star Alone here. Yon gem of light shall be my love Whilst from her, And she shall be my heaven's star When with her. THE RING. 67 But what I bring I will then tell To no one. For she shall be of all who know The first one. So question not, I care no more To linger, I anxious am to place it on Her finger. F — 2 68 THE INGLE NOOK. " O remind me no more," he said, *' O remind me no more. Take the sad world away instead, With its wearisome lore. I want nothing to do with it, Therefore take it away. Nor to see, nor to hear a whit — - There is nothing to say. jj Let me rest in my ingle nook, Let me rest in my ingle nook. Alack-a-day We wear away. Shall e\'er we find a rest ? O yea, O yea, There come a day When weary ones all may rest. THE INGLE NOOK. 69 I have fought and have struggled of yore, And have worked with a will ; Till my hands, feet and back have been sore, Yet have laboured while ill, On and on Thereupon A good fifty year. Yet with heart And no part Of unthrifty fear, Did I garner a saving of gold 'Gainst the days that have come ; I am old. And infirmity waits By the grave's hollow gates, But I carry my head With proud step and firm tread, Full erect to the living and bold. Let me rest. Let me rest, With my pipe and book. Let me rest. Let me rest, In my ingle nook. There is mother and I yet, my lass. All the others, thy brothers, have gone To the field or the grave now, alas ! 'Twill be mine or the mother's anon. yO THK INGLE NOOK. O yea, O yea, There come a day When weary ones all may rest. Do you think, lass, the little now left For a comfort to mother or me. Or, again, for yourself when bereft, What may buy a few ribbons for thee, May be squandered 'mong beggars and folk ? They should rather themselves and their sham& Hide away and afar, in the smoke Of a town, than a village of fame For a good honest name Without blemish nor blame. Note the disparity Coming to thee, Good as can be, Seeking for charity. No, remind me no more," he said, " Remind me no more. Take the sad world away instead, With its wearisome lore. What if she were A cousin to thee ? Surely I swear 'Tis nothinjr to me. THE INGLE NOOK. 7I Let her seek him who took her from hence, Or home where in separate place. If she be not bereft of her sense, She would stay for an interval's grace. But for me there is nothing to say, I want nothing to do with their cares. Take the world and its burdens away, I can carry my own, but not theirs. And I take At the world Not a single look, For the sake Of my world And my ingle nook." " O, come, close not thine heart," Alice said, " To a cry of distress, father dear. Dost remember Elijah was fed By the woman, who more had to fear Than the loss of a comfort or so ? If we follow the world as it leads We shall come to a much greater woe. Than by showing it something it needs. Where the disparity Coming to me. Good as I be. Seeking for charity ? 72 THE INGLE NOOK. There is one that yet might be implored, The good Lord she at one time adored ; For that we are too good, It must be understood, To be asked for the neighbourly dole. Oh, O oh, oh, O oh, Do not let me yet go. O father, no no. Let it never be so Than ye prove thee a generous soul." "Yet," quoth he, " Let me rest in my ingle nook. Let it be. Let me rest in my ingle nook." It was then gentle Alice arose And came round to her father and said, " You but speak of my brothers. Why those, And yet never of Liz ? Is she dead ? Have you heard not a word since she went Over seas ? Was she married away ? Or did sister not seek your consent ? W hy not tell me, dear father ? Come, say." But old Ronald looked stern. And his brow 'gan to burn THE INGLE NOOK. 73 With a fire that was fierce, While his eyes seemed to pierce His fair questioner's face, E'en as though he would trace Of her meaning the course, And, still further, its source. Yet he saw there no guile ; Then it lulled him to smile. And, quoth he, " Let it be. Ask me no more. I told ye before I want nothing to do with it, Nor to say, nor to hear a whit. Let me rest in my ingle nook, Let me rest in my ingle nook. Alack-a-day We wear away, Shall ever we find a rest ? O yea, O yea. There come a day When weary ones all may rest. Here, beside me, my lass, now sit down. And come read to me out of the Book. It will cheer us. The world makes us frown, Like the breeze on the face of a brook." 74 THE INGLE NOOK. Soon our Alice was there as he bade, Though her heart was nigh bursting for thought How to speak, how to urge, or persuade Her loved father to grant what she sought. She then read of forgiveness and peace, Of the debtors, and similar themes ; Till at last the old man bade her cease. Being filled with more brightening gleams. And such promises fair, As were often told there, Than the world can e'er shew. Ever deal, ever know, His good heart seemed to melt. It was then, Alice felt That the time had arrived to speak out ; And she said without tremor or doubt, " Yea, O yea. Come a day When weary ones all may rest. Where no sin, Nor world's din Exists among angels blest." Then she knelt there, her father beside, And she said, " O, my father, 'tis not My young cousin I told answer to bide For your succour at grannie's old cot ; THE INGLE NOOK. 75 It is Lizzie come back O'er the ocean's long track. And I know, and I know, All there is e'er to know." Then old Ronald arose, and he cried, " Is it true that our Lizzie is back ? Then at grannie's no more shall she hide. My hat. Come, though the night be pitch black Come Alice, quick. My hat and stick ; Alack-a-day, We wear away. Shall ever we find a rest ? There's no rest in my ingle nook, There's no rest in my ingle nook. But yea, O yea. There come a day When weary ones all shall rest." 76 THE GARDENER. I turn the earth over To nourish its cells, With roots of the clover, Sweet grass and bluebells. I throw up the daisies, Dead leaves make good loam, The worm from its mazes May seek a new home. My arm is not weary, My foot is not cold, Nor irksome, nor dreary. My toil on the mould. And when the clod crumbles Its fragrance is mine. So grateful, it humbles My heart at its shrine. THE GARDENER. 77 Man turns the world over For plants and their stems, Becomes a far rover In seeking its gems ; But this all my pleasure, Content of my toil, The all of my treasure, The turn of the soil. 78 EVENING. All o'er the homestead rest now reigns, No sound awakes the quiet round, All save the cricket in the lanes Hath hushed its joyous daily sound. Yon cottage tells of happy time, Of lowly comfort and content, Of hearts that gladden at the chime When on their hardy toil intent. With flowers trained through lattice fine, Convolvulus and woodbine sweet. That each for simple love entwine And seem to kiss when blossoms meet No wind to stir their lighter leaves. As Nature breathes hut far above, The marten nestles 'neath the eaves. And emulates domestic love. EVENING. 79 Oh, would the darkness stay awhile Ere yet it hide the homely scene, Which, free from discord as from guile, Is as the flowers upon the sheen : But now it closes o'er the fields, Alike around the cot and me, nd as unto it twilight yields cry " Good night and peace to thee." 8o IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. Is truth so rare, the false so rife That even yet the question old Of what Truth is, still haunts proud lifa With sphynx-like heaviness untold ? Time comes like feet of stinging fly, And thought is quick to grasp its weight ; An instant more 'tis flitting by. And truth is lost, our vision late. Erst wont to think that truth was seen, Or tasted, smelt, or heard, or felt, Examined I these senses keen To find through which its medium dealt. The special four, subjected first, But laid a snare for common lore ; Yet, sure, I felt, the truth would burst From that more common sense in store. I IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. 8l I scanned the fields, the trees, the sky, The sun and stars, and all below. Yet what we name the things on high But wordy semblance is, we know. The cloud nor black, the sky nor blue, The trees rude bark, a false veneer. Extending fields of varied hue. Like liars smile in covert sneer. Fragmental ore, or hardy rock Of old-world fish composed — or wood, Is ash of burnt-up time to mock The seeker of a truer good. In homely life again I sought True thing, true flesh, true face, to find ; Alas ! I looked, but found I nought. But while I looked became I blind. Yet could I not still smell the fruit Of lemon, pine, and orange sweet. The fragrant bloom or noisome brute, The odour of a dainty meat ? The dish was foul, as foul could be. But food of fiend in any hell ; The flowers and fruits but chemistry And next I lost the sense of smell. G 82 IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. No sight, nor smell, yet taste was there ; I epicurean choice retained ; And loved the flavour of the rare. Nor from the ruddy wine refrained. What then my horror once full tired, When faint and thirsting, I in haste, Quaffed acid for the wine desired. And which destroyed all sense of taste. All false, all false, false limbs, false eyes ; Ay, many parts of human frame Lie down at night, at morning rise As false as all their owner's aim. O, what an artificial sphere Here hangs in the air ; a bubble fair Of bright reflected colours clear ! Bah, it is gone. O world ! beware I Cannot I hear a bird of song ? Nothing false there. Yea, 'tis a clock. The sweet church bells their chimes prolong ? Nay, but a tiresome organ crock. Comes there a voice of friend I know. Counsel of love, with honest brief ; Alas, no friend draws near thee so, 'Tis but a roaring braggart thief. IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. 83 Hear ye the rain ? nay, 'tis not rain ; 'Tis but the wind o'er rustling leaves. Ah, 'tis the wind, the same old strain, Heralding e'er the lie it weaves. Good heavens ! What shock so thrills mine ear ? Thunder ? Or quakes the depths profound ? ' By tested guns I wandered near. And lost for aye, all sense of sound. Yet daunted not, of sense bereft, Except the common one of touch ; A nerve attracting warp and weft Entrapping net for muscle-clutch. I leaned contented and at rest At thought of Truth within my grasp ; It was the last, but greatest test : A staff close-hugged within my clasp. Though Esau's raiment and escheat Came strongly forward to my mind, Round curious Thomas no deceit Nor falser, baser thought entwined. But what a fall the chained-up strength, Or confidence in petted dream, May have when strained its utmost length, And snaps it at the great extreme. G — 2 ^4 IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. How faithfully I touched a stone ; As quickly crumbled it to dust. The things I knew long years mine own Had changed, decayed, by rot and rust. At last a limb, my flesh of life. That loved I in conceited youth, When touched was dead, and cold to strife ; And soon I died, but then found Truth. d 85 A FRAGMENT. We little think ourselves unkind, When busy hands may break The sweeter blossoms that we find Beside the rosy way we take. E'en so let Nature share her own, Nor envy when she may desire To place a dear one by her throne, With pride her bosom to inspire. 86 THE CAPTAIN. Our lives and their peculiarities, Their trials and many tempers, oft excite An interest in them, both intense and great, Compassion, unto indignation sore And oftentimes amusement. Nature shows An ever-varying scene, so thought may tire, Not in its voyage through its world, nor Become insane whilst pondering o'er the few. Diversity is the buoy of hope. Hope's constant wing Leaves in its flight all weariness behind. To its own darksome misery. This I found Whilst travelling even o'er the ocean tracks ; There would my speeding bark with seeming life At times dance gaily o'er the waves, and then The sea in fretful calm would make it still THE CAPTAIN. 87 In abject melancholy. Times as these Would I in my experience lead the crew And passengers to entertain their hearts By goodly intercourse, of such a kind As to withhold the outward matter free From closer contact with the mind ; thereby We gained enlightenment and gaiety, So useful in dispelling care and all The train of subtile thought that first may lead Unto it. Heard I histories manifold Told of themselves and things inanimate, Of relatives and friends, both old and young, That, like the atoms in a sunbeam, came From out their places in the secret mind To be enlightened by the confidence Of social man. Hear one that comes to me By present memory. The gay and good. But mostly faces full of thought seemed all To interest me. Wishing something done Of moment but of daring, scarcely one Would do, a man of sullen countenance Once volunteered to execute the work Required ; and, reckless in his movements, soon Accomplished it ; from conversation long With him in after hours I gathered this His tale. 88 THE CAPTAIN. " From youth," said he, " I mixed with vice ; A child I saw my father playing cards ; A boy and man I saw him gaming still I grew to like the play, and never checked, I led a gambler's life until I loved : 'Twas then the fickle charm all slowly died Away. I gamed no more. On passed the years» In married bliss, and children grew around. Good fortune smiled on industry, and gave Us comfort, 'till a night of hell disturbed Our peace. An old acquaintance sent to me Friendly recjuests to come and dine with him ; Cursed was the hour I went. Why did I go ? Is there not something leading us at times ? A destiny to err, or is the mind So frail that Hells own glittering tinsel wand Can fascinate beyond control ? I know Not what it was, but went, and there I met A number I had known before. But still Feeling secure in much reserve, I mixed In pleasantry with all ; cards were brought out» By courtesy I joined. The cloth of silk And gold that Satan strews the miry path Towards his haunts with, causes one to fall In darkness of impetuosity O'er ruins brink. The old excitement crept Upon me, play ran high, I lost, I won, THE CAPTAIN. 89 And won and lost, with wine was heated, swore, And staked my all — and lost. I looked around ; My fancy saw on every tongue the wish To call me fool. 'Twas from that time began My woe, my friends despised me, and every trial I made to gain back fortune failed ; our home Was broken up, so we might go to live In some mere squalid den. My children there Became infected with disease, and five Poor little things were laid beneath the sod Within as many weeks. Oh ! how I see Their pretty faces now, with healthy cheeks All gay and cheerful, knowing nought of woe, As one would say, ' I like the old home best,' And asked me, ' Why we came to live in such A wretched place ? " Oh ! how my heart then swelled To think that I had caused it. Hushing them To silence, they would look and wonder, then Would turn on merry heel, forgetting all By happy childhood, all that troubled them. How maddening that I lost them ! Little hearts ! Could I recall the past ! Upbraiding me My wife there left me. 90 THE CAPTAIN. Wandering, I knew Not where, to seek her, yet I found her not. Arriving at the port wherefrom your ship Has come, I wavered. Should I leave the land Of birth, the land of kith and kin, to breathe A new and fresher life afar ? A month Had passed, and still I asked myself the same. At length with force the answer came to me, Determined, desperate, go I would ; for though I had not been all that I should have been My wife had left me, throwing back the old, Engaged responsibility ; so now In taking that I go in search alone For that I want, and in another sphere ; For life I care not, let me risk it how I may, where danger is 'tis there I go. With love and friendship lost, why need I care ? No, no, I go, and death shall be the bourn. Rest and peace for a weary life, nor sought Nor cared for." Spoke he desperately ; when I asked him, " If, supposing he should meet His wife where he was going, then would each Forget the past and try the world again Together ? " W^hich he answered, saying " No, No, never more, for ever parted now." THE CAPTAIN. QI This Stage of the recital gained, we all Were startled by a piercing shriek, as through A person's fright in falling overboard, Full loud and sudden, then as quickly hushed. Melting upon the waters — giving pain To manly hearts, yet paralysing all Our action. Yet a moment and our brave Companion dashed astern and over — soon Appearing on the surface he was seen To grasp a figure, then was heard a cry Triumphant ; and he brought on board his wife. For invaHded she the voyage long Had only come on deck that day in health So soon to fall and fail again, but " Saved, Saved, Saved !" was all our friend was heard to say. All were surprised and pleased to know that one Had found his wife and saved her ; in an hour Retrieved the past, thanked Heaven, and loved again. 92 TO MT LOVE. As from a dream I seem to wake Yet no alarm, nor ruder start, The accents soft I hear now make Emotion thrill my peaceful heart. And is it true there be yet one, Ah, e'en myself can worthy be, While Virtue's grace all others shun, That Cupid so hath favoured me. 'Twere happiness indeed to think That my poor love sufficient be. And that with mine thy soul might link^ 'Twere simple bliss indeed for me. Thy sylphic strains of love so clear Are falling softly o'er my heart ; Too real, too true, for me I fear. So good and guileless as thou art. TO MY LOVE. 93 I lie beside the gentle stream, And there my burdened heart reveal ; Of thee, the object of my theme I sing, till death my Hps may seal. Then partly hushed, the stream sings on, Its sweetest music stealing o'er, Lamenting for the spirit gone, Yet singing for its love the more. Its course I take — through gorges roam 'Neath scars and tovv^ering cliffs above. That seem to pierce the mighty dome, And there for thee proclaim my love. The dashing torrent as it flows Descending with the echo clear. Fills all the valley as it goes With sounds of love, as rich as dear. Love seems to rest upon thy brow, A briUiant and a beacon there. Defying aught, as ever, now, To dim or veil its lustre fair. By giving crystals from thy store, The jewelled casket of thy mind. Thou wilt enrich thyself the more And garlands of such gems wilt find. 94 TO MY LOVE. The melting eyes and gentle smile Betray thine heart, thy soul and all ; Or longer let me dream awhile Ere I from airy towers fall. Ah ! no, dear love, the precious gift Is real, all shadows I dismiss : No veil of doubt I have to lift The truth is felt — a loving kiss. 95 LARMA. Bright the night across the moorland In the moonlight clear and balmy, Gentle shadows, scarcely marking Bush or bramble, stone or hedgerow. Far-off hills and pretty meadows Met the eye in distant landscape, When 'twas lifted from the heather. Yet the night was cold and lonely As sweet Larma trod the pathway ; She the dark-eyed maiden, Larma, Trending onward to the trysting Of her lover, strong-armed Cosmo : Far renowned in battle frenzy For a cool and wise withholding Of a sword stroke fierce and swinging, Flashing down on brazen helmet. He of strong and Gothic beauty Yet of smooth and winning lip-grace, So beguiled the pretty Larma She would meet him where directed. g6 LARMA. Why it was her brother Oscar Liked not Cosmo, knew not Larma. Loved she Oscar much, yet softly. Firmly held she tender longing For her heart's love, Cosmo. Many Were the times, surmising Cosmo Wooed her, that he cautioned Larma While predicting mischief waiting On the heels of bonded courtship ; Little heeded such words spoken Ever, Love enthroned before them. Hence her eager steps now speeding To the hill beside the pine copse, Not so far from her own dwelling That she feared the night walk over Trivial stretch of moorland peaceful. Ere she left more sheltered footpaths She had heard the night-gale cheering, And it made her spirit quicken To the notes, and burst she lowly Into mellow song. Now, hark ye — " Mighty Spirit tell me truly, As a maiden, tell me duly Who my love, and what intending. What of good or ill impending. LARMA. 97 Him I love, oh, what his name is ; If he love me, what his fame is. Mighty Spirit, tell me surely, Wedded life, should love be purely. Will it mine be ? Will it mine be ? Sounds I hear now shall the sign be." Larma ceased. Expectant, merry, With her thought of what would answer In the lonely night air. Silence, All that echoed back suppressed her. Nearing now the place appointed, Forcing what of cheer still hovered O'er her disappointment, fearing Lest her lover were not come yet, Suddenly she heard the sword's clash Loudly ringing through the calmness Of the quiet night, and, shrieking Wildly, " Cosmo," heard for answer Words like, " Ruthless villain, never." Heeding not the sign appealed for. Bravely hurried Larma forward. There her brother Oscar, lifeless Lay upon the scanty heather ; Other there was none accounting For the strife, unless the shadows H g8 LARMA. Presently would move to tender Mortal witness. Solitary, Still, an awful terror seized her ; Fear of something yet to follow ; What she knew not. Bats were flying O'er her in their sudden coming, Sudden disappearing, making Weird occasion of a moment. Turning to her brother Oscar, Kneeling heard she footsteps falling ; Then a shriek both loud and piercing, Voiced the night air, " Oscar, Cosmo." Slowly Cosmo came before her Like a caitiff fetter burdened. ** Larma, Larma, be not frightened, Near thee I have been awaiting. Had he not been brother to thee Now I would not say I sorrowed. Quarrelled sore had we, and fighting Fairly, one was slain ; oh, Larma ! Never wilt thou know how Oscar Chafed and bearded me concerning Thee, last words of his declaring. Thou should'st ne'er be mine." " I heard it," Then she cried, " And thou hast murdered Oscar." " Nay, my pretty sweetheart. LARMA. 99 Nay it is not so. For fearing I, for what I know not, sweetheart, Blessed might be in holy wedlock With my Larma, he in malice Unexplained would here have slain me To prevent it." " He had reason," Larma said, " Oh, surely something Had my brother for his action. Oscar, tell me, oh, my Oscar." " Larma, wilt forswear then coldly All thy loving trust and promise At first sight of trouble ? " " Oscar," Was her answer, " Can I, should I Love the man who slew my brother ? Cosmo, Cosmo, thou forsworn art. Slaying Oscar, part of Larma ; She is wounded, may be dying Thy renown is gone for ever. 'Mongst thy comrades for thy wisdom And command of mercy dealing Forth the grace stroke. Did I hear him Call thee ruthless ? Yea, then truly Heaven shows me what thy fame is ; Yet, oh, Cosmo, once I loved thee. Cosmo, O my heart is breaking." " Come, dear Larma ; come, despair not. Come to me, my Larma, fear not." H — 2 100 LARMA. "Touch me not, Oh, touch me never," Larma cried, " O, Oscar, Oscar." Fell she now beside her brother. Cosmo would have raised her, dared he ; Coming nearer so attempting ; But her brother as by spasm Seemed to try to clutch his dagger. Larma read the nervous movement In an instant as intended For herself, and, as a falcon Falls upon its prey, she seized it, Dashed it into Cosmos heart-core, Then withdrawing quickly thrust it In her own fair bosom. Slowly Sank she o'er her brother's body Saying, " Never, Oscar, never. I will keep thy word, my brother." Through the trees a wind now sighing Breathed a requiem sad and mournful, And the moon's light seemed near waning By a cloud's dark mantle veiling ; Wide the shamed retiring landscape. Ages after 'twas related, Shades among the trees were hovering, And that sounds of metal clanging Heard were 'midst the weirder calling Of sweet Larma's answer, " Never." lOI ADIEU TO THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE UPPER THAMES. Adieu, ye pleasant meads, Ye scented pastures fair ; Adieu, ye brown-topped reeds And all ye waters bear. Sweet was the time and joy Beside thy fragrance spent ; Sweet, too, thy blushes coy First in the morning lent. Adieu, ye flowing brooks. Ye rippling, sparkling waves, Caw on, ye sable rooks, Sound fill thine elmic naves. I go, to con no more In sylvan Nature's tome, Its rosy pages o'er, Nor midst its scenes to roam. 102 ADIEU TO THE UPPER THAMES. Adieu, oh, radiant sheen Ye pretty flowers wild On high, ye larks, careen, For me ye have beguiled. I leave fair gales to thee Th' enchantment of the woods, Sing on, sing yet thy glee When others don their hoods. Adieu, my simple bark. As trim as trim can be. Ye swans with saffron arc As pure as snow to see. Sail on and breast the stream. With pride no travesty, Sail full with feathered beam In silent majesty. Adieu, ye nooks and bowers, Sunlit, but shadow cool. Happily pass the hours Where trees o'er-branch a pool. Ye haunts of joy I leave, Thy scenes in rapture shared, My hope and trust I weave To come again if spared. I03 BOAT SONG. Floating gaily down the stream Passing bank and meadow sweet, Filled the air with sunny gleam Dancing as with fairy feet. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er gliding by. Fair above and bright below Dazzling sheen around I see, Strong in light and charming glow, Glad of shade by leafy tree. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er passes by. Cool and peaceful haunts I pass, 'Neath the willow's pendant branch, Pictured round the silvered glass Wherein Nature seems to blanch. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er gliding by. 104 BOAT SONG. Happy, young, and full of life, Pleasant are the days and free, Should I dream of age and strife Whilst a care ne'er comes to me ? And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er passes by. Quickly row thee, brother, row. Shadows lengthen o'er the land, Light is waning, sinking low. Yet the going is more grand. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er gliding by. Mark the sparkling golden light Flecking with its own rich brown All the grain in fielded might Reaching to the distant down. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er passes by. Gone the glory, gone the day. Light of life is now no more ; Linger all things as they may, Wearied all is o'er and o'er. And I see the while I lie. Fast the world e'er gliding by. BOAT SONG. 105 Comes the night of Ufe, of day, Comes a darkness, and a fear. Time when man must hie away, When it darker shall appear. And I see the while I lie, Fast the world e'er passes by. Care once scorned when feeling strong, Bound in youth and manhood gone Comes with all its terrors long ; Gone the dream, I rested on. And I see the while I lie. Fast the world e'er gliding by. Brother, row, a beacon far There in thickest darkness see, Like the light of Heaven's star. It must Life's fair harbour be. And I see the while I lie. Fast the world e'er passes by. io6 HISTORY : AN ODE. Hail ! gaunt recorder of the past ! Hail thou, Oh, History ! nor cast Aside thine awful pen to lull Us in oblivion, for we cull The gay and dread Of times now dead, From yellow pages of thy work, And many tales of goodness lurk Therein, by which to welcome thee, Of nobleness and chivalry. Roll on, oh. History ! Time shall bring, What to relate, and what to sing. And what to mourn for, what to laud. Times of disease and of the sword ; Such things that e'en to think of fill with awe, And yet but what some near departed saw. HISTORY. 107 Oh ! raise thy harp and voice once more, And tell thy story as of yore, Of battles and heroic deeds, Of armoured knights and fiery steeds ; And tell again In sorrow then, With melancholy song Of old domestic wrong, Where ended the invidious strife T' engage the fell assassin's knife. Strike, oh, minstrel hoary ; Strike thy harp of glory ! And ere the light of setting sun May leave us, let a field be won, A kingdom lost, its sovereign slain ; And chant his lady's grief and pain ; For 'tis an item in the era of the world ; A scroll for yet another age to see unfurled. Oh ! but for thee, historic reed ! An Egypt had been barren now Alike of interest as of deed. And darkness had oppressed the brow. Thy monuments its legends bear Though oft but stones for wandering o'er I08 HISTORY. And broken for a merchant's store. So all who wish a chip may share : But, oh ! a touch of thine, They reign majestic in their lore, Inscribed with line and line They sacred are for evermore, A staff to living man Is History's giant span ; Helping through the ages Weary travelled sages. It guides a state when nearly blind The path of policy to find ; For often is the gulf of doubt Bridged over by a page' from out Good olden History ; for such Has been its universal touch That scarce an action in the present time, But what has been before. And like a chime The ringers send from yonder tower In the autumnal twilight hour Will be repeated yet again. Again, again, and yet again. Are sweet Arcadian stories dead ? The meads where Chloe's lambs were fed All passed away ? And classic lay HISTORY. 109 Of Helen, Hector, Dido, ^neas gone ? No chained barbarian slave to look upon ? Ah ! time will make its slaves, Its beauties and its braves ; Will give a sweet romance to passing scenes, And throw a virtue o'er the royal queans. And adumbrations fine Surrounding Proserpine Will gorgeous be and gay In sumptuous array, As art and fancy can then paint them. And retrospective views acquaint them. Yea, at thy fane, oh. History ! Thy votaries shall kneel, Their worship shall be mystery, Emotion, what they feel The rather than they show ; And incense thought. Then shall thy spirit flow, The solace sought. All from thy shrine, as to instil A gratitude and awe ; Ennobled frames shall feel the thrill Of thine enduring law. no HISTORY. Historic melody, flow on, nor stay The echoing music of the sea volute, Where in the wind and rippling waters play, Yet sings no more and thy sweet voice be mute Oh ! strike its lyre ! Ye mellow winds ! ye waters soft ! And raise the fire And soul of History aloft. Ill THE BETROTHAL. There they stood by the murmuring river, As it sparkled along by their feet, While the arrow of love left its quiver To be sheathed in a heart ever sweet. Neither dreamed of a care nor a sorrow. Nor presaged an exception to peace. It was love both to-day and to-morrow And a love that the next would increase. There beside them the stream still was flowing O'er the stones ever onward it rolled. Never upward reflection bestowing On the words there so often heard told. Ever strong while a Spring wind was sighing. Ever full for a bright summer's rain. Yet the winter, less sunshine supplying. By its coldness its force would restrain. 112 THE BETROTHAL. Was the Summer or Winter prevailing ? O, thou silvery rivulet tell, O, what vessel of life was there sailing O'er the main of that beautiful dell ? It was neither. 'Twas Autumn all charming, And a bark smoothly gliding in peace On a sea with no prospect alarming, Yet with anchor no power could release. 113 LOVE'S CLOUD. Oh, who can tell what sun shall rise On this my night of woe, When clouds so dark float o'er the skies And leave no light below. Canst pierce the depth of shadow there The veil of sorrow here, And show a gleam of radiance fair To brighten or to cheer ? How gently love will hold its grief, In silent pain will mourn ; E'en shrink from what would give relief And confidence e'er scorn. So strong that years will scarcely melt The sweetness of its bonds ; ■Caressed as though its kiss was felt, As though its love responds. I 114 love's cloud. Kind words may soften or e'en charm Away the sharper pain, But love to love can brin|^ no balm To heal a broken strain. Yet as the cloud may break and leave A brilliance clear to view, So will the rain of tears retrieve The calm that once it knew. 115 AN AWAKENING. When thought comes crowding quickly o'er And fickle senses are bewildered Leave me to wander by the shore, To scan the sea like metal silvered. The soothing distance soon becalms, Flickering seams and lights absorbing. Like spots of red on canvas charms, Or echoes loud of night birds warbling. The wood, the field, the fen or moor Might lead me far, such thoughts distracting, The will-o'-the-wisp to death allure 'Twould fascinate, the while attracting, I would the one thought think well out, Forge it and batter it, approving, Till shapely wrought, 'twas fit about The world to go for ever moving. I — 2 Il6 AN AWAKENING. This to a valley once led me, Woody and bright, yet so lone. Bright in the sunshine all golden, Drear when the sun-orb was prone, Velvety soft was the carpet Nature had strewn o'er the glade Grasses and daisies all bowing Gently, as progress 1 made. Dwelling on themes e'er so lightly, 'Tent on unravelling one. How yet and why the Almighty Stayed not fell sickness its run. Seeing how Nature could gladden Man with its beauty and form, Why the allowance to sadden Animal grandeur by storm ? Humbly I granted solution ; Demonstrate ; no, not at all. Was it by weird evolution Victims to plague-sores might fall ? Dubiously pondering slowly Fell there a waft of a sigh, Consciousness woke to a lowly Weeping and wailing close nigh. AN AWAKENING llj Slender reeds breaking or bending, Stately the branch that is shed, Cankered disease ever blending Glories of life with the dead. Ambient the landscape and smiling Sweetly o'erburdened the air ; Gracious and pleasant the whiling Twilight away where so fair. Young was the maid I discovered Lying the ground full along, Wild was her hair and uncovered, Grief to despairing was strong ; Figure well-moulded and seeming Goodly of stature was she Why was the madness so teeming ? 'Twas to console her and see. Still pretty hands, pretty fingers. Palm-pressed her face on the ground, Springs there a brook as she lingers. Welling from eyelids yet bound. Cheer thee, young lady, come cheer thee,' Tell me if aught can be done. Let me uplift thee, nor fear me, Do not my offices shun. n8 AN AWAKENING. 'Tis SO 1 seem to see her Now before mine eyes, "Tis so I seem to see her, Slowly, slowly rise. Turning her face then towards me quite gently, Stood I aghast at the awful disclosure, Fixedly gazing observed I intently. Causes that marred and disturbed my composure. Dark was the cavernous eye, Sallow the face and thin, Scarred from her forehead full high, Deeply to mouth and chin. There vile disease had done well, Cancelling beauty lines, Casting all o'er her a spell. Misery, death enshrines. Looking at me she replied, " Thou too then loathest me," Go ye then, why dost thou bide. Aid is not asked of thee. , One e'en professed to adore. Ground that I walked upon. Ribbons or gloves that 1 wore. Such 'twas I trusted on. AN AWAKENING. II9 " Tokens of love and fair words Had I then breathed to me, Sweet as the songs of the birds, Soft as their cooings be. Gems, too, of ruby and pearl Clustered with brilliants were, Kissed he the finger or curl. Each had his jealous care. " Kissed he this mouth and this face, Kissed he mine eyes and brow, Oh, that pale Death would efface Lingering memories now. •Beautiful,' often he said. Echoed the mirror so. Soon e'en we were to be wed — Now 'twill be never so. " Yes, he has seen me and flown, Flying my touch as 'twere ; Oh, that he erst could have known. There was no mark elsewhere. Faithless, yet censure 1 not, But that I loved him so, More 'tis a pity for what, Lost he of love 1 know." 120 AN AWAKENING. 'Twas then I tried to cheer her, Trouble to disarm, When standing there so near her Kindness lent its charm, Gently her hand therefore taking. Telling her God never thought of one's beauty, Still though so sadly awaking, 'Twould from the world yet uplift her to duty. Comes a something we wished long ago Or an answer we did not expect, At a time perhaps burdened with woe. Or a moment by pleasure bedecked. Knew I now why disease had its sway O'er the casement of flesh and of bone, Fiercely burning the crucible's clay, Hardly leaving the jewel alone. For the fire that so burneth what thought? For the clay that contains it what care? 'Tis the soul's golden gem that is sought, But the way of refining it ne'er. 'Tis a part of our God and divine ; Of a Spirit, an Angel the germ. But the casket, however so fine ; May consumed be by fire or the worm. AN AWAKENING. 121 'Twas a teaching 'gainst doubt of a cause, And possession it took of my heart ; Then resolved I for ever to pause Ere the faith in a theme might depart. And the quiet and peace that befell O'er my mind as I homeward returned, Like the hush of the trees in the dell Was the lullaby nature had earned. 123 DISCOVERY OF EARTHLY LOVE. Oh ! hide, oh ! hide, my darling. Hide thy blushes on my breast, And I will sooth thee, sweet one, Whilst our thrilling hearts are pressed. Thine eyes bespeak thy feeling, Scarcely need I tell thee mine, Oh ! darling, I embrace thee, Ever, ever am I thine. Oh ! do not answer, dearest. Know I well what thou wouldst say. Thy swelling bosom speaks, love. Of thy secret flown away. Look up to me, mine own one. Linger here, devoted frame. Thy soul will ever stay, love. Mine is bounden with its name. DISCOVERY OF EARTHLY LOVE. I23 This ecstacy of love, dear, Filled with happy dreams for aye. Lulls time in balmy sleep, love, Moments passing as they may ; But yet a little longer Blending our affection here, And we will fly together To uniting bowers, dear. 124 IN SEARCH OF HEAVENLY LOVE. Let us fly far away, Let us seek far above, Through the night, through the day, Till we find us pure love ; Left the false is behind, We have nought now not true, What relief to the mind. World of evil adieu ! 'Tis a bird — a white dove, That we follow so fleet. With no guile in its love, Nor treads evil its feet. As in innocence soars Yonder bird in the air, O'er our being it pours Its own virtue so rare. IN SEARCH OF HEAVENLY LOVE. I25 But the essaying wings Sadly tire as they wend, Love it shews with its springs, Then it leaves to descend ; Now we find Love's domains, And pure realms so profound. Songs of love and sweet strains Are re-echoing round. All are good where it dwells, All return it, and love Him above from Whom swells The refulgence of love ; All around it imbues With its mystical chord. Songs of praise are its dues, 'Tis the Lamb is its Lord. ia6 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. IN MEMORIAM. June 7, 7879. Oh, Prince ! thy destiny hath sought and found Thee by a savage hand, nor led, nor taught By human skill. And e'en hard by the sound Of comrade's bugle, that would have proudly wrought Thy saving from the fated agent, if the Power On High had so directed ; but for some Great good that Power withheld direction. Hour Of dearth unto thy mother, it shall come Hereafter to be shewn that wisdom swayed The fatal brand. Not lost, but as a star Eclipsed. Thine early death surprised, dismayed An island empire, which although afar Esteemed thee ; for endeared to it by choice Of exile, thou, companion of its arms, Offeredst thy sword in nobly valiant voice ; THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. I37 Away didst go amidst the dread alarms Of Kaffir prowess to their land, for sake Of progress and enlightenment, to dare Their cunning and their clime, and so to break And tame the savage humour. It was there Like many others thou hast fallen, then Thy part was done — thy mission ended. Man Thou would'st have civilised. Wast martyred when Thou hadst intent to offer love. What ban Is held o'er that dark race ? The curse of old. Then let his favoured brother teach the way To find new grace. Then to the Shepherd's fold Shall come blest thousands multiplied each day. Beloved Prince we mourn thee with the heart Of friendship ; for thy parent's sake we mourn, They having rested on our shores in part A lifetime. Thine Imperial sire was borne Away for ever, e'en for ever, here Whilst sojourning. And thou Prince would'st have raised His shield, and shaken off the fallen tear ; Have earned the laurel, and for deeds been praised, Hadst not thy dauntless heart been laid so low Thus soon. Ah ! now Napoleon's spirit sleeps. It came, it went, as shadows come and go, But as the legend ends, a nation weeps. 128 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. Bereaved, dejected, sorrowing lady ! calm Thy soul with knowledge of a greater throne Than aught terrestrial gives. The transient charm Of sovereignty is as the minor tone Of evening to the thunders of a grand Celestial glory. He, thy son, hath gained A mansion in the higher places ; land Alike of chivalry and good attained, From which he sees thee weeping, weeping yet. Yea, even in thy chamber. Oh ! how lone Thy heart is ! how void ! the sun hath set To thee, the night hath come to find thee prone In tears. Yet shalt thou find a comfort there ; Where once was youthful joy and buoyant life, Filled with glad dreams of future, gilded fair, Ere realising its awakening strife. Yearns thy sad heart to be with him, thy son ? Deem the hour chosen wise, it bringeth peace, Assuages trouble, and beguiles the run Of moments, whilst awaiting that release We may not hasten. Heaven ! oh, lift the veil Of grief and comfort her. Hold, foeman, hold Thy voice in silence, doff the tempered mail Of enmity — thy feud for aye is told. Dead are the hopes and dreams maternal. Dead The tongue of envy ; yet will live a sense THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. 129 And feeling as of paths the angels tread, And from the sphere of spirits hieing thence To life eternal, where shall those we knew Ere long be met, and as of greeting there, As glides another shade within their view. Which, guided, soars unto their jealous care. K I30 BERNARD AND SYLVIA. A DUET. Bernard — I come to claim thee now, my love, Though years have passed away Since words so fair of promised trust Were breathed upon a day. These haunts recall the pleasures sweet, That all too swiftly ended. Together — BE.S.HD J ^"-^ 7" ^S«"l those j do I ^^^^ ^ i Though never i , ^ 1 I "'cei Sylvia ( ^ ) hearts ( may ) more Which long ago were blended. The silvery sheen A beauteous scene. And still with deepening shadows All casting clear A quaintly drear Enchantment o'er the meadows. bernard and sylvia. i3i Bernard — The moon half full, o'er yonder pine, And brilliant e'en as now, With stars by thousands that now shine Together — Bore witness of our vow. Sylvia — Ah ! yes, and oft this tranquil spot My steps have wandered o'er. In memory sweet of loving things Too lightly told before. For dreams have shown thee dwelling not On scenes of old so charming. Together — Silvia i But, for the new, old love ) r „ j^ Bernard 1 No, no, my love was ne'er ' ■jyr [ constancy disarming. In foreign lands ^ [ hearts and hands Our ) Though'^under 1 ^^^""^^^ P^^^"^' And led to roam Forget I °^^ I home As flies to change their flower ; For happiest is its bower. K — 2 132 BERNARD AND SYLVIA. So leave me then to weep and ) • The moon half full o'er yonder ) ^ And sorrowing ) And brilliant e en J ' T,y}starsby.housa„dsi-';fj«|shi.. Bore witness of our vow. Bernard — That such, thy fancies, love, are false Thine own dear heart shall tell. As dreams are of another world Love contradicts the spell. Awake we have things as they are, In sleep it is but dreaming : Asleep no love, no life, no star ; Awake we have the seeming. Together — Possess we all And faith withal. Then full our heart's sweet measure. Bernard r Dear love be mine. Sylvia ( And am I thine ? And ) T ^, . ,r 1 am thine Yes ) ■c, ( oh, what I , tor ever -r ' r pleasure. I it your ) ^ With clinging love our hearts entwine. E'er trusting each as now, Remembering how the stars that shine Bore witness of our vow. 133 A HYMN. Take thou, O beauteous Light, my will. My thought, my Ufe, my all ; As shadows lifted o'er the hill Are gathered up from fall. Far back in years my spirit soared On high, as thine possessed ; As well, O now accept, restored My body still caressed. Let me be thine at moment's call If I on earth remain, And let me do what may befall ; Yet all of thine ordain. Oh, what to me the powers borne Of mind, or body whole ; Already I of part am shorn, And that my very soul. 134 ^ HYMN. Now I have seen thee I am thine ; Me take or leave nie here ; I all the world fore'er resign, But thou, O Light, be near. For all is dark without thy gleam, Which strengthens all my frame ; Withdraw it not, O thou Supreme, Lest I should lose my aim. 135 A HYMN. Oh ! loved Creator we come nearer, Though slowly, surely, unto Thee, And yet 'tis sweeter, and e'en dearer, All knowing what the end will be. The way we journey e'er gets lighter Becomes the smoother, better known. Becomes yet grander, and yet brighter As our glad footsteps near Thy throne. Most Holy, Great and Mighty ! singing, Thy glory praising every voice, We come to Thee our offerings bringing, Our heart's while worshipping rejoice. With loud Hosannas now vibrating Through space and distant regions fair, Our souls to Thee all consecrating To meet the Saviour all prepare. 136 A HYMN. Behold the Lamb approaches slowly, With searching glance on us around, Then claims us all. Ah ! yet so lowly. Sorrowing that no more are found. Great King of Kings, triumphant glory Is Thine, O Lord, for evermore ; Dear Jesus' own appear before Thee, To be beloved, to love restore. 137 A HYMN. Our hearts are full of praise, Almighty God, of thee, And this our song we raise. In swelling harmony. Endow, O Lord, with grace Our hallelujahs bold, Resounding through the space Of these thy transepts old. Our gladsome voices search The canopies of gold, And fill thy towering church With music yet untold. We know no grateful sound Can reach thee up on high, But thou art here around. For ever, ever nigh. 138 A HYMN. Yet 'tis but passing wind, A sound, nor loud, nor clear, Unworthy of the kind Creator's love and ear, For sending us His Son Far from the realms above. He then a triumph won, And taught us all to love. 139 A HYMN. Lord ! all guilty, wretched I, Weeping, sad and weary, lone. Come to claim of thee on high Part of thy great mercy shown. Brethren, who are in thy grace Tell me of thy loving care. And that thou hast turned thy face Never from a sinner's prayer. Humbly I before thee throw All of self and worldly thought That e'er cast me to and fro. Gaining never what I sought. See I now the light around Of the Spirit's holy hand ; Hark ! the blessing — ^joyous sound, Comes to me by thy command. 140 A HYMN. Praise, my God. Oh, praise to thee. Ever, ever will I sing ; Chorus, hymns and holy glee. All with sweetest music bring. And great hallelujahs strong Shall our voices gladly raise, While our souls to thee belong, Then for ever will we praise. 141 AGNES; or, THE HILLY PATH. A ROMANCE OF FIFTY YEARS AGO. ARGUMENT. Part L — Young Edmund Dalreigh surprises and shocks his tutor, Albert, by asking if he might love his sister, Agnes. He is advised to go abroad to get more worldly experience, when Edmund assures his tutor, seeing the old man is hurt, that he only loves Agnes as a brother. Albert's son comes from his adopted home in France and attempts to beguile Edmund into going abroad by gay visions of life. Albert attempts to crush these vicious ideas. Part H. — Albert acts as organist, and is discovered in Chapel. Edmund and Herbert become great friends. Sir Hugh Dalreigh discovered, seated with Agnes, Sybil and Edmund, by Albert, who tells him that his son, Herbert has brought news of his sister's death, and his own accession to an estate. Music and singing. Herbert falls in love with Sybil. 142 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Part III.— At an assembly in the hall. Sir Hugh asks how Herbert came to live in France. Albert tells him the tale how his daughter was lost. Sir Hugh, in turn, tells him a story how he found a Httle girl. Discovery of Agnes. Edmund then loves Agnes, and Herbert Sybil. After going abroad, Albert comes to live near them. AGNES ; or, THE HILLY PATH. *' Behold the morn, and view the scene around, 'Tis as the early mist is swept before The genial warmth of heaven's glowing fire, The mist of ignorance in early life Is swept before the rays of knowledge vast. And with the heat of charmed enlightenment Awakes the opening landscape, whilst we gaze And ponder o'er fresh beauties, not till now Unfolded to our senses. Wafted sounds Now play about the ear a gambol gay. Proclaimed as music sweet. Surprised and pleased, Awhile 'tis lost, but onward wending, back Returns in charming echoes : oh ! how great. How mighty is the hand in harmony. Creating atoms, which perchance may form, By combination of their elements, AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I43 The simple buttercup, or canopied Immensity of Nature's dome above ; Each glorifies by grandeur !" Thus he spoke, Young Edmund's tutor Albert, who yet stood As though still pouring forth his inmost soul In silent veneration, but who now Turned round to Edmund, saying, anxiously, " Come, Edmund, thou art silent, thou art sad, Thy sadness overwhelms thy tongue, absorbs Thy thought, come tell me why, that I may cheer Thee." " Nay," then Edmund answered, " If I speak Of what enchains my tongue, thou wilt not cheer, But chide ; I have no heart, no mind for scenes Which make thee thankful, Albert. Thoughts will come, That half desired, yet half rejected, seem To balance in the scale of moral worth, Or good or sinful, either battling each, Which so confuses and absorbs, that speech Runs renegade ; but now I will enlist Thine ear : I love my sister Agnes much As lover loves, and as a brother should — 'Tis this that cramps my brain in agony And holds the power of sense in useless pain, Yet working war amidst the awful din 144 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Of mobbing thoughts. Now Albert, think. Imagine to thyself a hell-bound troop Of fiendish sprites all tumbling, tramping o'er The foil stretched cavern of an anxious mind. Metallic cymbals clanging, dashing on With headlong rout and noise, and ceasing not 'Tis there my thoughts shall be to find the way The which to follow. Do I by my love Hazard the fairer telling of our honour Think ye ? or whether by a deeper love Than youthful brothers show, there may not be Together yoked a sister's love with mine. So adding happiness to this uncouth Unhappy world ? " " Now stay, now stay, no more,' Said Albert. " 1 have waited long to hear Thy meaning, and am grieved to hear thee speak Such wayward virtue. Have I toiled to find Thee thus ? But nay, I cannot think it so — That thou thyself would'st rather lie beneath The grassy mound of death, experience Bespeaks my inward soul, but loving her The more than sister grieves me, for 'tis like The phantom arch that spans the semi-world Of thy existence, and 'neath which there glooms A darksome cloud, although it soon must pass Away — hard pressed by zephyr's from a source AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I45 Of goodly prayer and grace— or it will drown Thee in deep floods of shame. So list awhile And thou shalt hear now from these aging lips, The love I bear thee, for I love to walk With thee at dawn, to sit at morning meal. To study and to aid thee at thy work The while the sun is rising as in flight, To dine with thee and talk with thee till eve, To play, to sing, to sup with thee, when night Doth part us until morn, and then I greet Thee with an earnest love, and strong the more For being parted for a space. But now I see that we must part, for thou awhile Shouldst go ; shouldst journey Europe's modern stage. My son, I tell thee go to France, to Spain, And Learning's centre, Germany, and then To much sought Italy, an empire once. Anon a wreck ; the doom of all things — And so see many countries, changing oft. And so shall change thy love. I pray thee go, Although my hairs may whiten by my grief." *• "Well, be it, kindly Albert, as thou wilt, My sister Agnes hath but brother's love; But see now here she comes, and greeting us Though with a stranger, Albert, knowest him ? " L 146 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Now Albert's visafje saddened as he said : *' Ay, ay, it is my son, what does he here. Or has he drone-like come to feed upon And waste the sweetness of our laboured store ? Oh ! heed him not, or he with foreign scenes Will charm thee to the slough of gaiety." But Agnes with her now brought Herbert near, And kindly were the greetings and sincere, Then Agnes with her brother walked apart, And wandered through the then all-welcome shades Of bark-peeled sycamore and linden trees, And treading lightly o'er the mossy grass, Their hearts rejoiced. Sweet notes and chirping songs, Which now poured forth from many feathered throats. Inflate the welkin, and with fulsome sounds Nigh strained it. Clinging each to each they strolled. And Agnes lifted up her eyes to him. Then whispered, pointing to the cloudless sky, " Yet thinkest thou 'tis happier there ? " ♦'Oh, bliss! Unfathomable bliss ! when earth is heaven. To human hearts, oh, what must heaven be ! " AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I47 He thought, and said, «' Dear Agnes, ere thou hadst seen Yon lily there, come, didst thou not proclaim The other ' best ? ' Consider then the world A lily fair, but one to be surpassed By that which opes profoundly grand above." " Oh, why are we not always happy here, Would not the spirit of the world be high ? The lighter for exemption from all harm ; While goodness reigning and dispensing good. Would raise the ether of the soul near Heaven Itself. We then might bid good-night to sin, And on the morrow be in paradise," She said ; and he, *' Dear Agnes, this is hope, A goodly mansion built on happiness, But towering to an over-clouded point Is lost to view 'cept to itself, and so When happy here we soar, as does the lark, In aspiration to the distant sky. Conceiving there to gain a happier sphere. Until we prove its very vanity A myth, and turn to Earth, as all things must, To nestle on its shores, our only rest. Are there not dreams by day as well as night ? Beware the pool the while the brain is weak And only wise in sleep ; for weaker then, L — 2 148 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. "Tis madly prone to follow any wisp That lights its way to self-destruction. Sleep By day, alike by night, reveals a path All fairy-trod, to richer life that when Awake one dares not follow ; for 'tis then The foolish mind, made conscious, sadly views The folly that it thought so wise in deep But transient slumber. We are played with thus, Hard beaten by the battledore of time ; But as I may not overcast thy day Together we will sing that praiseful song Good Albert sang one eve, some days ago." And they in sweetest melody began Their song : 'Tis when the spirit of the mind Is soothed by Virtue's ways, The soul of man is raised on high In ecstacy of praise. When calm and still the surging brain, Unconsciously we sing. Our wandering steps to wonders lead With fancy on the wing. No burden has the grateful heart In realms of airy peace, For dwelling there it gains a rest Beyond desired increase. AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I49 So give US such contented life As live the forest trees Whose boughs the grander, nobler show, When ruffled by the breeze. What joy to hearts o'ercharged with love Would such existence be. Where all through fairy visions pass And their Elysium see ; Yet turn to earth, green clad anew, Though lowly be the theme, We there may make a heaven, our own» Far truer than a dream. So blending harmony of thought With all the music of their voices sweet. Enraptured from the richly perfumed grove, Th' emerged to saunter o'er the open glade. Where soon they met good Albert with his son. But Agnes then stole quietly away. The heart may happy be the term it mourns. Consoled by transient gleams of future rest ; An old man's wearied mind receives a balm To sooth his sorrows and to comfort age. So Albert told how he was called to France, To mourn his widowed sister, now no more. But still to take all that she left behind. 150 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Thus leaving him in affluence and in ease. Would Edmund go with him to Fontenoy, By travel so to scatter, ruder thoughts. And clear the brain from incrustations crude ? " Aye, come," quoth Herbert, " I will show thee France, Its gaiety and pomp which fascinates Imagination's eye, and teacheth one To cull vivacity therefrom; its change Of social forms, which helps us to digest Its various meats, and filling us with that Excitement, which then, scarcely e'er leaves room For melancholy ; noble as ye are In Britain, lethargy the lion shews And heaviness the visage of the bull : Come where the soaring eagle fondly eyes The glittering sun, and then for change looks down Upon a royal pompous cavalcade Below ; come where the fashion is its world Yet where that fashion wearieth curious minds, Because the world itself is slow to change Its shape. Oh, 'tis a happy life in France." " Stay, stay, my wandering son and let me ask, Amongst the many changes France has seen Is folly changed to reason yet, or aught But frenzy still ? Ah ! poor, yet glorious France, Say what of change has sent enduring peace AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I5I Unto its shores, its provinces, its homes ; Preserved its monarchs, valour, dignity, Its virtue or nobility ; or saved Its palaces and villas, prestige, state. Or has it not laid waste the country side, Sheathing its sword in blood and wanton strife. Change it has had. Change that has bred enough Dismay to make its neighbours weep for shame, And mourn the loss of honour in so large A nation. Say, is this the sought-for change ? The fascination right to follow ? No, The temperament of the people differs here, For he who reigns we love to know doth reign A virtuous king, and are content with peace ; But fickle France, beheading him for change. Would steep the nation deep in ruin, war, And bloodshed dire, the while its people asked : What was the newest mode ? Nay, wise will be The Prince that ever governs it with such A safety to himself, as lies within A people's love." " The penalty of pain That e'er attends on pleasure," Herbert said, " Doth sit but lightly on a Frenchman's brow ; If fickle 'tis a part and quality Of life to him ; and sorrow come, he bears 152 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. It cheerfully, nor mourns he yet so long Nor so despairingly, as ye do here. Though British born a Briton's views I have Not. All seems dull and murky here, As though a cloud o'erhung the island round. So urge I then its scenery e'er felt Suflficient to induce the tourist fond And lover of the grand, to traverse o'er The narrow straits." " I would that all were filled With somewhat else than pleasure, for it is The seekers of such trifles e'er, that stock The world with pain, and find amusement great I'the agony — the restless gaudy moths Of human life, that work destruction out." Thus Albert spoke, and Herbert then returned, ♦* Well, where is man's superiority ? Whose life is destitute of ordered plan ; Where better state ? Where life inferior? The flitting moth that nature favours now, And then as soon forsakes, is type of man. The same with things around — a tree is reared A triumph nature claims, a lusty tree Full sound and young and in its glorious prime. Nature nourishes it ; but doth the worm Not come to undermine its aging life To break its day of pride and glory too AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 153 To leave there but a wrecked and mouldering pile? 'Tis thus is seen a doom eternal, as Is also seen an ever-checking break In life, and everywhere that life exists, And in obscuring mists concealing dire And unknown destiny, as though to tempt Us sometimes yet to live in trust and hope, And yet anon to yield to death's despair. Is not the man a tree by nature left When in its prime to rancour and decay. And to himself a worm of magnitude ? May we not play a little with that doom ?" " Prithee, think not so, my son," then Albert said, " To sober minds the greatest pleasure found, Might be the calmest recreation sought. And that same mind superior power gives To man o'er all the creatures on the globe ; Nought else hath object other than its will To please, but man hath the Omnipotent To glorify by actions here on earth. And all our pleasures should in some way tend To such an object. Nobler minds are given To man than aught created ; power of thought And reason. Peace amongst our kith, our kin. And nations does not rest upon the will. But all upon suppression of it. Things 154 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. We have given us subservient to our will, That we may work and blend them to the use Of glorifying Him who made the whole — Us, in His image that we might see and feel His works. Wonder and worship ! Is not this Where lies superiority of man ? A temple in thyself, debase it not By thinking thus, my son. The measure thine Of peace is rendered unto thee in full According to thy reverence to One Who justly claims it." " Ah ! " quoth Edmund then And archly, " Where thine answer, Herbert now ? Or hath thy father silenced thee ? For me Your foreign climes may bask in beauty's sun. Their landscapes, cities, and their villages May be the grandest told, but yet there still Shall be a something dear, a something sweet, To call me o'er the scenes of native land, A quiet converse 'tween my spirit lone And rippling brooks and humble places, where May happiness be found, before I seek A path or palace on a foreign soil. Hast thou no sympathy of soil, my friend ? Ah ! yes ; thou hast, but somewhat differing." And presently they parted company. END OF PART I. AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I55 Part II. Alone our Albert walks, while giving all The genial atmosphere his truant thoughts, And mimicking the sounds, the spirit mine, My faithful Muse thus gave them to mine ear, " And shall I give my mind to sleep — my frame To rest, and is the buoyant spirit gone ? My feebler steps now daily tell me so. To sleep the hour then like the gorged beast ! Oh ! Nature ! let me not give way and lose The pleasure, that to me is life itself. Of viewing thee, and listening to the sweet Melodious sounds of thy dear voice. What joy It is to watch the lambkin sporting o'er The sward, but scarcely heeding for its play The warning bleats the old ewe sends her young, Lest it should gambol into harm ; to note The peaceful cropping of the grass, bedewed Afresh by recent rain. Oh ! who would sleep Who cares for Nature's varied scenes ? Now mark The shadow of the cloud, as travelling o'er The fields it lends refreshment to the flocks And lowing kine, and breaks the scorching rays 156 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. From off all things that live and move beneath ; And is there not a music in the scene ? And from the tiny things that crawl and fly Does not the buzzing glow of thankfulness Arise, assisted by the movement vast Of countless leaves of vegetation ? Can One not deduce a people's music sweet From ever praiseful song and harmony Of the created, going up on high To their Creator ? For all tones I hear Around me. Man but gleaned at harvest time. When the Almighty gathered in the fruits ; The scattered notes collected, were then placed Like all things else subservient to the mind. Thanks, thanks for power of mind 1 And history comes To help our veneration for the gift. As the wave of the ocean sweeps the shore And marks its havoc there, so Time — unseen Particle of eternity — records In History its potentiality Indelibly written is the legend quaint, Stamped in tradition ; as the creviced rock May show a yawning gulf to stamp its truth. In all above, beneath, around is power Dispensed by Him who first created it, If granted then that all partake of power, AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I57 He in creating it, created all. Thanks, thanks to thee, O God. But now I near The village church, which place to all our hearts Should be most dear." And Albert, who had been The organist for many years, first sought An old attendant, who as verger served, Or else was cleaning where no dirt was found, And then ascending to the organ played Such varied strains as long experience Told was harmony, — grandly now and loud. And then the softly sweet and minor key Bespoke the praise, and the humility His heart and soul in turn sent pealing forth. Here Herbert by his friend accompanied. In passing near had heard the symphony And treading lightly 'neath the portal arch, Now listened to the swelling notes, as through The spacious edifice they travelled full, Resounding to the groined roof in rich And powerful measure, piercing nigh their hearts Unto affecting tears of love to God. Oh ! list awhile, for now he sings this hymn : — 158 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. My God, to thee, my humble voice Oh, ever let me raise to thee, Through tears, oh, let my heart rejoice In due and gladdening praise of thee. For thou hast given me grace to know All things were ever made by thee; So surely I may others show What glory should be paid to thee. No sin, nor heaviness of heart. Now burdeneth my song to thee. Nor envying will I offer part. Entirely I belong to thee. Thy Son took all the sin away, Then journeyed far above to thee ; And I behests of His obey. To follow on for love of thee. No darkness do I find around The path is light I tread to thee. Thy promises do e'er resound. In every soul not dead to thee. Oh, help me home when 'tis thy will. My heart and soul I give to thee. My every nerve with hope doth thrill, For times when I may live with thee. AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I59 And when the cadence ended Albert seemed To be absorbed in prayer. The friends went out With hearts too full to speak till they had walked Awhile communing with themselves, nor did They wait for Albert, fearing to disturb His happy reverie. Then Edmund said : " My sister Agnes and myself have oft Enjoyed such hours as this ; and then gone home> Both full of veneration and of love For all surrounding." ** It truly gives A greater sympathy to one for those About him, and esteem for things around ; It shows to one the pettiness of self, Without the grace Divinity holds out To us." So Herbert spoke, as though he felt An inner struggle 'gainst some fresher thought. And Edmund answered seriously and said : " I would that thou hadst been the more with him,. Thy father, for he always seemeth good. Instilling ever good in other minds. And when rebuking, kind, attracting love. Yet firmly just, is strong in furthering all Requiring justice ; so not generous Unto a fault, but charitable withal. l6o AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. A friend like this I would not lose for all The wealth and gaiety, the east or west Could offer me ; his argument is kind, His conversation full of energy To teach ; above the vice of pedantry He seeks his God to please, and pleasing Him Is satisfied : I scorn the man who looks Alone for man to please, though moral may He be ; if he forget the Deity, Then rest assured he be forgotten too."' O'er day departed, evening drew the shroud. And lowering spirits sang their lonely dirge, Whilst flitting o'er the vales and lands around ; The darkened air was filled with shadows gaunt. And weird-like forms appeared athwart the scene : These things of troubled night were closed from view Of all within the Manor of Dalreigh, Which now behind a gloomy tuft of trees Well hid its inner life from all without ; There dwelt Sir Hugh, who kind, though nobly proud, Esteemed his children as he did himself, And Edmund, Agnes and his Sybil dear, All fondly nestled 'neath the spreading wings AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. l6l Of his paternal care. There comfort reigned Throughout the spacious chambers high and low ; In one they sat, and each made manifest The gladness, health and due contentment lent. Then to them Albert with his welcomed son Came, not as menials, but as honoured guests, And after many pleasantries had passed. Friend Albert thus bespoke Sir Hugh : " From France My son hath brought me hither tidings sad. My sister is no more — the only one — Whose husband dying many years ago, Bequeathed to her of worldly value much, Which, seemingly, her death has left to me. And so, my age shall find that goodly rest That all my life and labour never gave. Yet not that labour could be sweeter borne Than in this happy home, where station doffs Its crest to put thereon the cap of love And kindness, making labour but an act Of pleasure, and a semblance but in name. My service is I think nigh ended here For neither of your children want me more." " Speak not to me of service," quoth Sir Hugh, " That ended long ago, 'tis friendship now. And glad I am to hear of thy reward M l62 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. And future independence, yet shall grieve To lose thy company ; for when the sun Doth set upon an autumn day, although It seem to e am a sweet repose, it leaves A chill behind, for having warmed the life Of day, we miss its genial disc too soon Once having felt its warmth." " My thanks to thee For thy esteem, Sir Hugh, may ne'er a cloud Of discord wafted be atween our hearts, Which not too old to feel the glow of warm And friendly spirit thrilling through our frames. Have time to dwell in such a blissful peace As long tried love inherits. Friendship's fire In youth is fickle ; take thee heed of words In warning, O my children ; seldom give Thy confidence to mortal ; keep thine own, Yet seeking counsel of the Power above : For scarce the man that makes a friend, — a gem When found inestimable, much sought for, yet Acquired but seldom, for to be a friend, '| Or keep a friend, one must nigh perfect be. But where is he so Hke his God ? So let Experience warn thee of the bitter pangs Of broken, scattered friendship, whilst thou'rt young. So let it guard thee from its fang-like guile, AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 163 Watch long and wait and he will show himself And yet not to thee, rather for thy ken." But Herbert's lively nature could not brook His father's seriousness, so after few More earnest dialogues between them, asked Fair Sybil whether she would favour them By singing something of a joyful air, At which she timidly but firmly sang : Sweet the vale where she was dwelling, Sweet the meeting in the evening. With the loved one near the river. Where her heart for him was swelling. Haunted sounds soon greet the hearing. As of feathering oars at night time. On the surface of the river, Nature sees a phantom steering. Thus beneath the shadow gleaming. Of the woodland side and thickness, Ghostly forms may ever sparkle. All with awe in silence teeming. Here a bark, by love directed. Swiftly through the stream was hieing Now the moonlight proved the hastening. Of the lover far expected. M — 2 164 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Moonbeams glanced o'er rippling water, Dancing sprightly with the starlight. Woody darkness lowered around them, As they stood where he had sought her. Still the phantom hovered o'er him, Seen by nought except the gloaming ; Forth in darkness ever shining, Patient as though waiting for him. Scarcely had he there embraced her. Ere he fell from her endearment. Dead upon the sward beneath him. On the spot whereto he traced her. Here Herbert marvelled at the song now sung, For he had asked for something cheerfuller. And so he told fair Sybil, whilst he felt It was a grave and serious homestead there. Then Sybil smiled, and said, " To thee we leave More joyous burdens, as from France should come Appropriate livelier strains." Then Herbert knew That she, in playful opposition, sung. As seeing he had sought for something gay. So in reply he this cantata sang : The shepherd's flocks are resting now. And maidens meet their loves, I I AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 165 So hushed the scene, o'erhead they hear The cooing of the doves. Singing merrily. Piping cheerily, Woo-oo, woo -00, woo -00, The wind is gone a-wooing. Beneath the sheltering foliage near The youthful Mylon hied. The while they dance he gaily plays, Cleora sits beside. Singing merrily, Piping cheerily, Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, The wind is gone a-wooing. Sweet Love is couched between the pair. And now he links the chain, When all the maids and shepherds sing A full and joyous strain. Singing merrily, Piping cheerily, Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, The wind is gone a-wooing. Aerial fragrance lulls the mead ; The dove has sought its nest, The nightingale remains alone, A guardian of its rest. l66 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Singing merrily, Piping cheerily, Woo-oo, woo-oo, woo-oo, The wind is gone a-wooing. So ended he amid applause deserved, E'en though for little stood the trifling words, Their music and his voice were sweet indeed, He bowed to Sybil smilingly and sat Beside her, whispering sweetly in her ear The charming sounds of admiration fair ; And bolder growing still in earnestness. In softening tones to yet more melting words Spake that, which even in the genuine heart Is nought, but current goes for all in all ; Which caused the modest eyes to turn away, And brought the latent dimples to her cheek, Oh, what can warm the soul as kindly words ? Igniting sympathies we wot not of. And dra\ving closer to — and closer still. END OF PART II. Part III. The light of love anew the spring-time bud, Was bursting forth, was glowing day by day. The germ of love grows well i'the sun of youth, AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 167 Refreshed and nourished e'er by tearful rains, For so the plant is tempered to the gale Of Hfe's vicissitudes, and strengthened gives Maturity. On, onward Star of Love ! Yet wander on, and seek fresh hearts whereon To send thy beams to lighten life and hope. Thy beam a staff that striking so the rock Of hardened life it flows with honey then And teems with sweetened kindness. Lyre of love ! Oh, let thy music so entrance the heart With harmony , that every broken chord, Discordant passion, each may flit to hell. Fair Nature beareth love to all the world. Of old two nobles dwelt on either side Of yonder vale, and deadly feuds were rife Between them ; but the flowing torrents came From distant hills and made the placid stream That now exists, as though to bring from high The fervent message, "Peace, goodwill, and love," And this, the lesson Nature taught, is shewn By ancient ruins still on either side The peaceful stream ; now peering deeper yet Into the darkness of the past there glides A serenader from the castled shore ; It is a Prince's son about to woo The fairest daughter of the neighbouring chief. What flowery vale would not a river be i l68 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. To bear such scenes; their union made him lord In time of both domains, and Nature crowned Her handiwork in peace, goodwill and love. Whilst many days were passing, Herbert knew His heart was moved with fervent love for Sybil, And having told her so, was pleased to find Her glad, and then, what times ensued ! They sought Sir Hugh and meekly told the tale. But no reproof received ; though loth to lose His child's society, he thought how much | The happier all would be, so gave consent. Our friends were now assembled in the hall, With cheerful faces, though with heavy hearts. For time drew near for Albert to depart For Fontenoy and wealth. The hearty voice Of conscious honesty possessed Sir Hugh, As Albert's tranquil eyes were turned upon His former patron and his later friend. Amid the converse free, in kindly tones He asked, how came his son to dwell in France ? To which request he tearfully replied, That if he told him how, his telling would Be long, yet still the more Sir Hugh then pressed The good old man to tell, who thus began His tale : AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 169 •'We lived amidst yon southern hills, Where such the place, if wishes might beget One happiness, provision would not leave One aught to wish for ; where the Deity Of ever-breathing nature calls aloud For worshippers ; where all in unison Do act, obeying all-commanding laws Of neighbourly esteem, and there we lived. My wife and I, who blessed with offspring dear, Most keenly felt were grateful to receive The great unbiassed magnanimity Of God's eternal providence. 'Twas where Maternal pride shone down in genial love Upon our children's joys, soul-mingled with The binding of a father's buoyant hopes. But woeful was the day my Beatrice took Our little daughter Alice for to see An old but earnest friend one Sabbath day — The hallowed day, whose consecrated charms Full spell-bound holds in venerating awe The pigmies of the superficial world. Whilst dwelling on the vast and wondrous hand That blessed it, there shone forth its fresh Though inborn majesty and holy, lent Its grace to those for whom 'twas early blessed. But woeful was that day to me, nor late, Nor later came they home ; for though the morn 170 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. Had broken fairly, clouds incipient Arose on high and soon became a dark. Oppressing mantle there, and grew and grew Until the gathered storm had stolen o'er Their hilly path. "Next day, ere dawn appeared, I sought them at our friend's, with fearing hope That they had stayed the night, but there no guests Had been. Oh, spare high Heaven I spare me such Another hour of pain, as that I felt That day. My homeward path I searched uath care, And e'en almost had given o'er the search. That seemed to be in vain. At last I saw The dear, dear heart I loved so well, below The pathway ledge. I hastened down, and there I found her partly covered with some huge And massy fragments of the rock that reared Its terror-striking crest an awful height Above. I well could see my Beatrice dear. With all a mother's care, had led our child Inside, and so securing safety 'gainst The bare and dangerous edge of rock along The path ; and then the storm's electric light. AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I7I Cleaving the hardy rock aloft, to sweep The path and depth below, calling my wife Thereby to her last home and saintly rest. But where was she, our dear and first-born child ? I never knew, nor know. Oh, grief ! oh, grief ! 'Tis when I think of this that sadness seems To gnaw my Ufe away." And ere could he Resume his tale, he seemed convulsed in tears And bitter sorrow ; then more cheerfully He said : " But still I have my boy, my last, Who had been left with neighbours ; him I sent Abroad, so partly to regain the care That he so early lost. My sister good And kind for aye, possessing generous thought E'en seeking modes by which to comfort all. Most willingly betook the precious charge." Sir Hugh full wondering such should be the fact, Then rose and paced the room in deepest thought, Until he calmly from a small recess Brought Albert there a child's silk neckerchief. And asked him whether he had ever known It. 172 AGNES ; OR, THK HILLY PATH. O, the enraptured recognition ! O, The joy that token caused in him ! " But calm Thyself, my Albert," said Sir Hugh Dalreigh. Alas ! he could not. " Tell me of my child," He cried. " I pray thee now to calm thyself," Again Sir Hugh said. " All I then will tell Thee that I know." And, all intent to hear. In eagerness they gazed upon Sir Hugh, Attention, wondrous sign of intellect, Was now arrested fully on the theme, Both ear and eye, the agents of the mind. Were catching every word and gesture made ; With interest so strained, come weal or woe, Withholding longer would more cruel be, Than letting loose devouring hell itself Upon the nerves of understanding ; so With careful voice and mien Sir Hugh resumed : " The solar beams of one's connubial bliss Are ever shadowed by the pall of death, And thou hast lived beneath its shade. And I the same. In happier days our walks, That through the vales and round about the hills We took, were fraught with brightness and with love. AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. I73 And by those hills once straying, there espied A young and pretty girl, who crying asked Us for her mother. • Who,' she said, ' had gone Away ; had fallen in the storm and deep Below." We asked her when and where it was, To which she answered Avearily, ' The sun Was high.' But, oh, how long a time she must Have wandered, for 'twas then the sun was low : We sought yet none could find, then took her home. My lady came to love the child, who soon Became our ward, for no such blessing sweet We at that time enjoyed. The token marked By the initial of our language bade Us call her Agnes ; here she sits beside Us ; she is yours." The poor old man rose up With streaming eyes of joy, as faltered he Across to meet his daughter, who, amazed. Had scarcely risen ere they met, " My child. My Alice, bless thee, God bless thee, my child," He said, and Alice bowed her head, and then As tearfully she looked up to him, they kissed A holy kiss. Oh, hail thee ! Edmund, hail ! Now happier dreams beguile thee evermore. Oh ! love thine Agnes, AHce as thou wilt. 174 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. As sister, or as sweetheart, take thy choice ; But love her well, her heart was ever thine! Yea, is there not a destiny in love ? Is not the fair one often seen by man At times when he oblivious is to all That is for him ordained ? Hast never dreamed Of scenes that seemed familiar to the mind And memory ? Such may be what we have seen. Thrice wretched is the fair whose heart is set By nature on her love, and who shall take Another love — the one for him ordained. Thrice wretched is the man who marries her Who after flies to him — the truer one, By fate elected. Haste thee not to choose, O, Nature ! take thou heed, all will be well. And Alice went with Herbert and her sire, Each fond, yet leaving those as fond behind. Then Sybil often with her brother spake, When wandering through the many cultured fields, About her far-off love, and once he thought Her full of melancholy, looking sad, So anxiously regarding her, he said : *' My dearest Sybil, tell me, whether thou Art satisfied with Herbert or his love ? " AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 175 Then soon the bright smile came, and sadness fled From Sybil's softened countenance. She thus Returned, " Am I content with Herbert's love ? Oh, yes, my brother, do not think him all So wild, so gay, as he would have implied : Far nobler thoughts and feelings has he than He always cares to shew, and kindly yet When seems he most indifferent. Once upon Our path we saw a wounded sparrow he. Hard fluttering to regain its wonted life : I took it up, when Herbert bade me lay It down again, for thinking it would soil My hands ; but pity worthy of a mind Most noble, generous, kind, then forced itself Upon him, as he said, ' Yet, nay, poor thing. Our care may sooth thee, let us think, my love,. That this, beneath the eye of Heaven, may Be sent to test our hearts what time we find Our neighbour stricken prostrate by our path , Most sorely wounded ; let us haste to gain Some crumbs and water, little else it is Our power to do, but none the less is it Our duty. God is always pleased to see Us act towards our fellow-creatures well ; For He the more will then help us.' But this My Edmund, is but one of many traits Wherein he oft has proved to me, he has A kindly nature." 176 AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. " Well," said Edmund then, " It pleases me to hear thy confidence. To see thy spirit and thy smile return." Then he would speak of Agnes, so would they Beguile the fleeting hours of morn and eve In pure delight. And eagerly Sir Hugh Looked forward to the time when Albert should Return, once saying half aloud, " Yes, yes. Both long and dreary would a life-time be. But for the many scenes experienced ; Though all be ease surrounding us, the paths We tread all comfort, self may carry that Wherewith to make a burden of a straw, And life a sojourn on a tedious road ; But on the road we travel let there be Enough variety to interest The fancy, life may then be made a bright And jocund time, and Albert's company Doth cause my heart to bound afresh with joy, Refreshing the enfeebled spirit mine Of tiring steps towards the goal of life." And oft of Albert would he speak to those His children, bidding them to look up to him. As one who competent to practice as He was to preach, might well entrusted be. As mentor and as guide. II AGNES ; OR, THE HILLY PATH. 177 At length arrived The time when they returned, the promised time, Ah ! what a future was before them all. Ah ! surely 'tis a pleasant thing to see, The mingling of such happy hearts, as now Had gathered nigh together, so to Hve As near the good old Knight as they might find Convenient dweUing. Merry peals rang out One brilliant morning, as the gathering throng Paced gaily-hearted to their homely church, To hear the solem.n tones of union passed Between the fair and good, for Edmund there Awaited whom he called his Agnes still. And Herbert whom he called his Sybil now. Then as the service ended, merrier peals Rang out loud echoes of the word " Amen." THE END. N 178 THE BOWER OF SOULS ARGUMENT. Prelude. — In the prelude Fael, a soul resting in the Elysian fields, is approached by another, Eon, who was an appointed messenger to the Earth, Fael asks Eon to tell him the story of his appoint- ment and journey. Eon agrees to do so, telling him how he was appointed to go to the Earth. Canto I. — Eon continues, telling of opposition to the appointment, and of the argument of a Jew, an Egyptian, an early Christian, a Mohammedan, a Roman Cathohc, and of a member of the Greek Church, in support of that oppo- sition, yet showing contention among themselves. Canto II. — A member of the Anglican Church takes up the argument, followed by Anghcan Seceders, an ApostoUc Catholic, a follower of Confucius, a Chaldean, a Persian, a Phoenician, a Hindoo Buddhist, an ancient Greek idolator, a Scandinavian, and a Deist. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 179 Canto III. — Eon, the messenger, expounds to the dissatisfied reasons why they should agree and end their contention. He addresses them in turn, often in reverie addressing the inhabitants of the Earth. The sequence of his address is much the same as the argument fol- lowed before, but he breaks off for a short time after addressing the Roman Catholic. Canto IV. — He continues his address to the Anghcan Church, the Seceders, idolators, and others, ending with the Greek. Canto V. — They now approve his appointment generally, and he is sent off by a voice in the air to the Earth. Incidents of his journey through the outer realm and space, with a general description of the realm. The Gate of Faith, the Field of Dreams, the Plains of Living Thought, the Hall of Truth, the Plains of Light, the Laboratory of Force, the Atmosphere of Beauty, the Nebula of Harmony. An argument with an aged Philosopher. Whence he passes on to our Solar system, when he is caused to return by some occult power. N — 2 i8o THE BOWER OF SOULS. PRELUDE. Therein reclined I, — in the bower of souls, Ethereal realm by boundless space enwrapt. Whose courts and jewelled halls resplendent shone Beneath the Light of Worlds ; where fragrant air Is wafted through the avenues of spray O'er arching clouds of radiant gold, that lend A tone to countless zones, transcendent all In high prismatic hue ; where gardens wide. All gem-bedecked with fairy blossoms spread Give forth such odours sweet unto the breeze To bear, that ever laden with the scent, Refreshing, clear, it pours its charge at once Into each pleasant nook concealed around. These cool retreats abounded, nigh to streams Of silvery brilliance, glittering 'gainst the arc Of evanescent sky ; the kernel vast THE BOWER OF SOULS. l8l Of ambient infinity. On high In wreaths curled up the pearly tinted smoke A thousand altars shed, of incense burnt, In humble worship of a majesty Soul-known alone ; and purer being so. Wandering spirits grouped and joyous sounds Of song upraised, to float in circles far And wheresoe'er the echoing atoms bore Them ; they indifferent to direction were, Since hearing waited where vibration stayed. I long had known the world called Earth, and marked Its sands with restless footsteps ; now 'twas mine To watch the world's progression in consummate rest And peace. In confidence I had embraced The promises by revelation old Held out to mortals, and long it seemed Ere Nature burst its many bonds About me. Here no round of night or year Was noted ; sun nor moon returned its disc. No shape existed in its worldly form And likeness. Shadow, scarce a shadow fell, For light reflected ; searching, clear, intense. Grand was the centre seat of it, high placed And well in view. It shone and governed all, Transfusing power, and, in part, to such 1 82 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Capacity of spirit worthy deemed, All other of its attributes ; and thus Its presence, love, and knowledge was instilled Among the myriad willing messengers Surrounding it. These then imparted oft The tidings small and great, the stranger spirit Wanted ; these mainly were possessed and known By inspiration leaving to be told But little, and 'twas chiefly difference held i Of doctrine which e'en here would enter, soon To be dispelled ; for angels guarded all. There stood the elders, there stood the prophets ; saints Around in multitude. And brothers smiled On kindred spirit met, in ecstacy Of soul. No earthly form was there to call Forth recognition : sex nor child, nor youth. Nor wife, nor husband, father, mother there ; And yet were all in equal spirit known. Desire had no existence ; love, but love Of Light, of Truth, of God, and lo named : The Essence seated in our midst, from whence The bright illumined rays came ; there reigned all The majesty and source of universe. The Countenance more oft was masked from us Th' attendants on His will and voice, and which THE BOWER OF SOULS. 183 But conscience heard, e'en sounded sweet and full. No inequality of age was here, Nor sere nor yellow leaf was reared on high, To tremble o'er the sapling's verdant youth. The spirit knows no difference of age Nor jealousy of form. Good will and peace Uninterrupted reigned where'er might sail An airy atom through this ocean realm Of love : the blessed domain of lo great. Therein reclined I, when there couched beside Me on the moss-like sward a friendly shade, Who, weary of a lengthened flight sought rest. I kneAv what aim and great occasion led Him far to journey like a meteor swift Through space, and knew of his return ; but not The detail or the story of his flight. So being yet of recent welcome there Fresh to the realm and its intelligence, I then with sympathetic manner asked The shade in kindly tones, if weariness Debarred his friendly will to speak and tell Me all concerning it. Somewhat surprised I knew it not, good Eon answered : — " Nay, My brother, never shall a weary wing Restrain my humble voice from praise, or song, Or other worthy purpose. It is long 184 THE BOWER OF SOULS. In Story, but thy willing ear will find, Since thou hast sought the theme, no tedious strain Therefrom to wish for silence broken now." Glad of the answer given, I in joy And earnest thanked him. Most beautiful He was for one to look upon, as though The influence of the surrounding realm Had closed combined with habit o'er his brow, Surcharging all his form with grace benign And heavenly mien. He said ; " A time ago Happy in all humility Uke thou. Or they, or these, and resting here in peace From days of dubious life on Earth, 'twas mine To feel content. I would then praise and sing In ordinary, but anon was called Upon to join with others in the glad And joyous gathering of precious herbs For speedy sacrifice on altars small. Our own. And, oh, how willingly 'twas done. All eager in the preparation ; soon Was all accomplished. Then the incense prayer, Breeze lifted, soared in volume high and far The while an elder rose to speak. He said : THE BOWER OF SOULS. 185 * Oh, Sovereign of Creation ! Lord of all ! Oh, Power unfathomable ! Oh, Thou ! who now E'en gavest us the thought, hear us, hear us. It is our prayer that one be chosen, thence To warn and teach all those thy people who The nether world inhabit, and whereon Once stood thy favoured house, in times now past. We know they have the law and prophets' words, Possess the sweeter fruit of later love ; But now when mind and thought is better trained, And more expanded, fitted more its will For just appreciation, little touch Or fine conjunction made, would so illume The greater, wiser circuit there ; the less O'er earth would scarce a cloud discover. Let, So let Thy Spirit move 'mong spirits here That with electric compact it shall stir A friendly medium, there on Earth to cry Aloud, and call a far-off audience : Send yet another token of thy love Enduring. Neither have I fear to ask Of thee this boon, for knowing it is one, With all thy boundless grace.' This said, the Voice Was heard amidst the seven angels there Who herald forth the sounds that issue bears The Light. Immediately a star shone out l86 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Along the belt of lo's spirits, which Were unperceived held before the first And highest band. This star it was that then In flashing brilliance quickly sped towards Me. Hovering o'er me for a moment more It disappeared. Then thankfully we raised Our song on high in praise and harmony. With joy, but in humility I passed Among the throng devoted evermore To lo's service, loved. Nor saint I came There, martyr, prophet neither ; chosen still. For me to gather, glean and further what Of actions might be useful, it was mine ; For me to honour, love and worship what Of truth the universe displays, was mine. In spirit now is wafted far beyond These fields, some portion of the scents there culled ; But still I knew not yet the order set Of this my work. Soon was the veil withdrawn." Canto I. A moment Eon paused. Then thus pursued : " My mission opens here. Gathering around THE BOWER OF SOULS. 187 Me, spirits sought intelligence, as though From one, who had authority to speak Of things divine ; as also we of late Were wont to listen to the elders' voice In love expounding mysteries amidst the groups Innumerable. And eager questions then Were answered readily. The light was fraught With such of truth and argument that no Perversity might answer to, nor sage Deny. As hovering spirits crowding pressed About me, so there came a charm of sweet Low murmuring music, and then presently A sound of singing voices through the air : ' Oh ! blessed thou, my chosen, raised among The elders, go thou to the nations. Speak My word and it shall dwell with thee. Time waits, ye may go, and it passes, then Ye may not; there is that transpires for which I may recall thee yet again, and thou Shalt haste. Go ye, and speak of what ye know.' This was repeated yet again, again. Until the all of thronging spirits heard. Ere long I knew twas this that proved my work. About the wider circles stayed to hear Some freshly entered spirits, some who knew Not yet what sum of faith goodwill required. Peace they had found, but still had much to learn l88 THE BOWER OF SOULS. T'enable them to keep it. Many traits And worldly attributes yet clung to souls Received by lo ; traits which perfect peace Required the cleansing from : this was the part Of lo's messengers. But now it seemed That more was wanted as creation grew, Discordant views were rife e'en in the bower Concerning now the means by which they each Had entered it. For there were many sects And many differing worshippers therefrom, The Jew and Gentile here were placed and met Full oft, amazed. 'Twas now great lo's act. Ere my departure for the natural world Through me to reconcile, subdue, or smooth The semblance of a chafing jealousy And bring them back as one in will and thought And soul. My spirit now will shew thee this. The chanting voices heard, at once there rose A clamour from among the many souls Of differing sects, and one exclaimed aloud : ' Oh ! shades of Abram, Isaac, Israel, Can ye not show the power of elders, saints, Or patriarchs, and thus direct by right The favoured choice towards thy children ? Why When thousands here await should choice be made Of Gentile ? Are we not great lo's chosen ? THE BOWER OF SOULS. 189 Who strong among the nations witness bore For many thousand years of lo's might, Of lo's law, ere Shiloh came ? Who brought Through every trouble known, account to man Concerning all the great and only truths, His work, His love and just command ? The Jew Or Gentile ? Moses and the prophets old. Are they naught ? What of David, Hezekiah, Josiah, Ezra, Nehemiah ? Stand Beside them any hoary Persian, Greek Or noble Roman ? Nay. Let stand a Jew.' I smiled at thought how vain the protest was, And knew the worthy soul would see it erred. As soon as sacred oil should ease the harsh And jarring spring 'pon which it rolled its voice. An old Egyptian here took up the theme. * Give way, give way, ambitious spirit. Say Was there not as ancient and as great A nation as thine own ? Had Egypt not A God and stately government, when all Thy recreant people stole away as thieves Do in the darkness of the night ? What power Was thine when under ingrate Moses fled Thy horde of rebels ? 'Twas great lo's hand That held thee from a thousand deaths deserved. What effort of thine own preserved thee then ? Vile perjured people, know the same High Hand igo THE BOWER OF SOULS. Had lifted us a nation long ere saw Thy leader light of day. And Memphis stood In glory and Avith temples for our due And heartfelt worship. Oh, preposterous Conceit, to think that lo's face was turned From us of old for that He favoured thee. Punished we were, but wert not also thou ? Thine history is a series of the ill And dread rewards of base iniquity. Give way, for Egypt worshipped lo, though Identified in Oshir. Idols set On high to represent one's God and draw The soul to worship its divinity. Yet proveth no idolatry nor sin ; But when the soul rebellious raises vice And makes it God, there falls the promised curse. Is lo known unseen to all ? Ah, no. When man is taught like Moses and his sires Perforce to worship the Unseen, then let His conscience and his duty dictate prayer As he commanded is. Yet hath he not An image even so before his eyes ? Plainly in mental vision lo see ? Then if he carve in stone resemblance fair, His vision true, and then shall set his work Upon an altar bright, to bring before His presence daily all he holds most dear ; THE BOWER OF SOULS. IQI Where comes idolatry ? Go, rather seek It where thy brethren horde ; 'tis there among Great lo's chosen bands, 'tis there among A people whom the law of old was made For ; even favoured by a real and once Most frequent visitation. Lost to mind All this, they build up gods of evil things, Of gold, of passion, and of aught that suits Their baser inclination. Ages rolled And He to whom ye looked and sacrificed Was held the same by us. Supreme ; and He With us Most High was even He Most High With thee. When Abram came his God was ours. When Joseph stayed the same. Availeth it What time tradition and obedience turned To myth and lawless symbol ? Was it aught But Nature's sequence for the nations, far Dispersed, to lose their history and forget Their first religion ? Or, when lands were swept By ruthless horde and fierce foe to sink In slavery their once most honoured themes And customs ? What of Perse, Phoenice, of Ind, And China ? All were once the same in Noah. In Peleg's time rebellion scattered all And filled the distant lands with schism. Anon The fierce Pali swept the east, the north, 192 THE BOWER OF SOULS. And us. O what surprise remains that faith Was crushed and lo nigh forgotten ? Saw We still the Light of day, fountain of Life's Most blessed relations, source of all we held Most dear. Therein was Unity of light, Of shadow, life and feeling, cold and heat ; Therein the Essence and the Spirit. There The satisfaction of our weary thirst And hunger. Phra, the brightest and the One We looked to. Phra, the sacred, holy, great. Oh, why not worship then this Union ; 'tis The type of mundane wedlock in her high And starry grandeur. Thus we came to bow The knee to Oshir or Osiris, with His consort Isis. Do not nobles, men, And supplicating nations, for a boon Approach the king through her more clement heart ? What better time than night for commune with Our God ? And e'en on high could we see all The great embodiment of our ideal ; Sailing in splendour through the ambient air. Humbly I crave for mercy if our thought Ne'er reached its goal ! |: So Isis was proclaimed Divine with great Osiris ; her, or moon, ^ THE BOWER OF SOULS. 193 Or earth (and erstwhile loh called) we loved. From thence incipient error spread and myths Abounded. Fable took the stead of truth And fiction followed history. Still we held The heritage, and I am here as seal To what I speak. Though Moschus of Phcenice Attempted to explain the hoary Earth's Creation, fast as any later son Of philosophic Saxony, we looked The while on Phra, and chained the blackest lore Of atheism and death, till Mahmoud came : He brought us back to Truth. Ay, Faith and Truth We first maintained an immortality ; And though we sadly sinned, hard punished too Were we at many times. Can we forget The treatment of the mad Cambyses ? Nay. And yet we sowed the seed of science, art. And letters, for the peace of future states, Good kings and nations great. Didst help, good Jew, Onias build a temple ? Worthy soul ! 'Twas Allah gave us faith and truth, himself. Yea, I have spoken.' " Hardly silence reigned Ere two of old, who Luke and Philip named, Together rose to take exception. Luke o 194 "^"^ BOWER OF SOULS. In friendly way was granted speech, as though The Other deemed him abler such to make. With look benign and dignified, the friend Of Paul then scanned the spirits round. With tone Of voice and choice of word as culled from time. Experience and travel great, his soul Then welled o'erflowing : * Good thy hearing too. Dare ye assemble these thy erring thoughts In full parade before the faithful band Of Galilee ? Egyptians, Jews, and sons Of India, Persia, China, all are here, And it sufficeth it is lo's will ; Yet how they came, or what their passing right, There are not those can say. Within this realm Are legions who have followed close the words And tenets of our mission ; those we preached, Both far and broad, and cast like scattered grain Before the bristling wind. The Saviour's death And resurrection. Sacrifice and sure Atonement. Charity and peace and love. It grew apace, and spread, though much was bruised. Or mowed, or burnt. The plant of Nazareth Thrived, was, nay is, and ever will be hfe, And sign and passport for admission here. THE BOWER OF SOULS. I95 Were there not Jews absorbed from ages past To present time among the Gentile bands And who have lost, by fair descent, all caste Of old extraction ? Some are numbered still Among the heathen, some are giant lights And forward leaders of the Christian Church. What man can tell a Jew when not a Jew ? Whose fathers born within the stricter pale, Mosaic law — perchance would claim a right And favour as would yonder priest, a love Much greater, dearer than his son of time Could claim through lo's son and sacrifice. Ay, see ye not a son of thine, O Jew Hard by, a warrior — bearer of the cross ? Think now of him, not as thy harsher will Dictates, a recreant scion of thy house ; But as the will of Him who sits on high. Who whispers of a neighbour, uttering love By meek rebuke, softly reminding thee Of sweet a word, and that of brother. Know That I may be a Jew, and so may be This now appointed messenger. What word Have ye to say me nay ? When darkness held The world, by reason of the thickened veil Of ignorance, neglect and dire mistrust Of lo's grace, irreverence walked abroad. The law forgotten, or unread, what man o — 2 196 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Would wonder when the Roman arms and power Held sway o'er half the earth, that heart and mind Inclined towards the gods of their new modes And fashion ? So the land was sinking fast In blackest night. But, lo, a brilliant star Shot up on high, and lit the earth around ; Foretold by Baptist preacher. While it shone The Light was perfect. But as years wound round Upon the reel of time, its brilliance grew In sudden vast intensity. It threw Afar the numerous sparks, that after lit The fabric of a church ; then flickered out And died. That early church it was I saw And laboured in to save and keep a flame Again to light the world.' " Slowly arose A gaunt, though stalwart Syrian, who begun ; * God lives, Mahomet is his prophet. Can It be, that lowly Christians claim their faith To be the only food and mighty soul Preserver in existence ? Lessons taught By great Saladin all forgotten ? Is Inconium, Ptolemais even lost With fair Jerusalem, all to Moslem power ; And yet ye arrogate sole saving balm And influence to Paradise ? Away with such Conceit. Ye have your Adam, patriarch Noah THE BOWER OF SOULS. I97 And Moses, lesser prophets than the One Of Bethlehem, but we have great Mahomet ; The highest, mightiest, conqueror of sin E'er walked the earth. Shall we not see your Lord First offered mediation and refuse In favour of a greater one, and he The wise Mahomet only mediator And greater far than all the prophets ? Where Then yet is that great boast from Christian lips But now we heard ? Did not the Islam faith Thresh out the base idolatry that Jew And Gentile both had fallen into ; both Corrupted unto death had practised ? Did It not bring back a proper reverence To man for his Creator ? God is good. Instilling worship and sobriety, Great Allah loves us. He is wise and just. Mahomet is his prophet. He was poor And lowly. God it was who raised him. He Was persecuted nigh to death, when God Assisted him. He gave to him the sword Wherewith to turn upon his enemies : Also the enemies of truth and faith. Now millions worship Allah who e'en now Would still be living in idolatry. Allah is good. Far reaching, yea, how far ? igS THE BOWER OF SOULS. The faith prevailed from Mocha, ay, Muscat, Unto the Gambia's mouth ; from Granada And old Algiers to Zanzibar ; again From Europe's Danube to the river east Of Ind, and from the Volga to Ceylon. Is it not fair to say it did a good ? Fair countries there, where date and cocoa palm The fig, banana, orange, plantain grew. Where spices sweet, and cedar, sandal wood Were found, and gold abounded. Silks all rich And beautiful to look upon were made. Such gold, such silk, the old world valued much When well they would array themselves in times Of gala, celebration, worship, dance Or feast. Whom think ye, that we thanked for these But Allah ? He is good. It was the sword Of great Mahomet spread the faith among The heathen, taught them to look up to Him The good and just. Our work is stayed awhile, Our empire wanes ; but give us counsellors And leaders incorrupt, and where are found A wiser, braver people ? Under own Or Christian sovereigns, humble loyal men ; But lost to all that may be good and true j Where high and chief control in faith is mixed, '' Basely alloyed with foul dogmatic schism, THE BOWER OF SOULS. I99 All self corrupt in policy, by side Misled through individual greed of chiefs Advising. Know there is a spot on Earth Where Islam's people live in happiness. Then witnessing how the Moslem rule is base 'Twill happy be when India shall absorb The Syrian realm. If poor and lowly (true And loyal still) the faithful are to be, There no more humble, peaceful subject lives ; And he will walk in friendship with the Jew Or Christian, Greek or Roman Maronite Or Druse ; but let his fellows governed be Justly by that same sword and rod as he. Seeing great powers and systems ordering states. Partitioned o'er the Earth, devoutly let Me crave or pray that nothing so-called Greek Shall hold that rod.' " Here latent wrath Was rising and I would have murmured, ' Peace,' But that I knew no harm could come, for all Would lead but to a better feeling there As speech came round, and quickly now it came. Hear what was said : ' Proud Bedouin, hold thy peace,' Cried one that erst had breathed Italian air, 200 THE BOWER OF SOULS. A monk and priest ordained. ' Beware how ye Deny great lo's Son and laud thy faith In credit of the sword. Our mission there On earth was peace, good will, and love ; not'war. Nor blood, foul plunder, fire.' " The Syrian glanced In haste and somewhat fiercely, saying, ' Hold, Have ye not slain your prophet, plundered then His very garment, massacred his own. His true disciples ; burnt their followers ? * Nay,' answereth he, the monk. ' Hast thou so far E'en lost thine ancient wit ? Discernment plays Thee truant so. No Christian did these things. Cast thy fierce eye around to light perchance Upon some poor and guilty Hebrew, rest Upon a soldier once in Roman arms, Perchance upon a Roman Emperor, Or prelate of the old mediaeval church. For even there, I must confess, was once Corruption ; then you find you those accused. The mission ' ' Speakest thou so blandly mild Of old and base corruption ? ' quoth a Greek, * Hast not at Rome a petty god set up I k THE BOWER OF SOULS. 201 In arrogance as universal head Of churches ? And did we not early see Th' ingenious thought and cunning trick conceived ? The mighty despot grasped too much, too far And temporahties fell fast away; 'Twas this o'er-reaching policy that broke Ere long in shattered fragments o'er the west, As well as east, and sacred Syria lost. Oh! what but foulest greed was there? Couldst claim A virtuous title to humiHty ? Corruption sated church ! In history's store And old popes' lives there is a sink Of putrid action as would make a fiend Of any hell give thee thy well-earned bays.' The Latin winced, but quick returning said : • I give thee back, O Greek, thy word. Dost know The tenets of thine own belief, or reigns There such confusion in thy doctrines mixed, That not a trace of Christianity May be discovered, in the shepherd, nay Nor sheep ? So patched with error, bigotry ; So creamed of all true faith and precept pure ; So cloaked with gaunt absurdity and fraud. That none can tell where lies its use benign Or goodly influence. And for abuse I 202 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Of rite and ceremony take the palm ; Thou hast thy pope, and mystic vestments, saints And pictures, ignorance, creduHty, Enough to sink the truest buoy of faith Ere laid in any world. Corruption, bah ! The very prelates buy their places, sell A people's intellect and soul for pence And fabricated relics. Rome has had Of men the greatest thinking doctors born Of world, to lead or check its action. Nor At all times could its fathers take the law, Or way suggested by a deacon, priest. Or layman ; yet its steadfast will and work Has gleaned a harvest o'er the outer fields And habitat of man. This leads me back. The mission, I assert, was peace, and where It reaches far and wide the blessing tells Of cultivation, art and science deep. We go to all as bidden, telling them Of tidings good. Its peaceful silent way Then turns the savage breast from hate to love ; T From vengeance unto mercy. The quarrel ends f And friendship smiles in honest shame, and yet | Anon, walks proudly conscious of its high And godlike influence. Good will ensues, The arts increase and happiness abounds. Think ye, your vengeance and your hate and war THE BOWER OF SOULS. 203 Is more akin to His own attributes, Than the unostentatious work of peace, The slower work of deep, untiring love ? ' Canto II. " A silence fell around. The words seemed nigh To lull the petty storm, as will the soft And silvery tones told by a good old man Oft sooth the rising wrath of youthful hearts. Good will and love have magic sounds to quell, Like oil the heaving wave, the swelling vein And volume of a brother's wrath. Therefore I held me still, that all effect of time And silence should obtain. But yet 'tis hard To count upon the measure, grade, or form Of old world jealousies. For as a child Will cry for physic given then to heal His brother, so uncertain man will rise And take offence when least expected. Yet, Well knowing this, surprise lit not a spark When, presently, I heard dissentient sounds ; And quiet waited by, for here one, who sat Intently listening, spoke. From Wittenburg He hailed ; in troubled times he passed away. •' It had been better had thy church set forth 204 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Such principles in ages past. Who speaks Of love, goodwill, and peace ? If love consist Of tyranny, of greed, and cruelty, Goodwill enslave in ignorance and lust. And peace be sold on parchment, or be bought At fiery stake, thy church hath taught it well. Small space in dungeons foul is scarce a school For love. Goodwill is not of mushroom growth To feed on foetid vapour. Tortures vile May bring a peace — an everlasting peace To persecuted souls, but not on earth. The mission preached goodwill to men and peace On earth ! How now ? Sets not the balance even ? Why sets the Latin Church so light, so much The higher in the scale than weighty Truth ? Cast in the rack, some wooden images, Some waxen candles, and thy relics false ; Or try the weight of Papal bulls, thy gilt And tawdry vestments. What, will nothing bear Up Truth ? Not e'en the tinselled mitre too ? Then surely there is something wanting. Take Them out, and place therein a grain of prayer, And one of honesty, along with one Of hallowed name ; the name of lo's son : Ah ! now ye have it even, true, and sure. How simple, yet a thousand years had passed THE BOWER OF SOULS. 205 Ere thou hadst seen it ; neither was there want Of men* who taught it. Say what darkness made Thee hard, perverse and cruel ? Ignorance ? Thou hadst the greater seats of learning by Thine ear. Conviction ? Nay, thou hadst the Word Most holy giving thee the He. What next ? True honesty of purpose ? Bah, thy greed Was more for thine exchequer, pomp and vile, Luxurious state. Truly, T wonder not Thou hast so many intercessor saints. And saviours, for thou needest them. Why give More honour to the servant than her Lord ? The agent than the Master ? Think ye then Of old Elijah thanked the raven flight Or erst his God ? O why, if Mary, blessed And holy, was appointed to fulfill A mighty work of lo, she the meek Submissive agent only, should her shrine And self be Ufted up to ill-taught eyes To worship, placed in heart and mind as though She were the object of that work. His will. Wouldst worship all the mothers of the saints, *Chrysostom, Augustine, Pelagius, Anselm, Wycliflfe, Peter Lombard, Abelard, Thomas Aquinas, Bernard of Clairvaux, Bonaventura. Either good teachers or were men of great analytic sagacity. 2o6 THE BOWER OF SOULS. The prophets, elders, martyrs ? Ask them all To intercede for thee ? Thy trespasses May surely be enough, but lo's son Is all sufficient yet to take the great And awful burden on Himself. Think well Of blessed woman yet, for female traits Are great and grand, but old tradition tells How one of them demands she should be veiled.' ' Oh ! Cease thy mincing lecture. Trespass not With words of vengeance on great lo's part, Half-hearted Lutheran,' Seceder said. ' Art thou so pure ? Art thou tradition free To speak, dictate, or cavil at thine own Base fostering ? How much of piety, True, soft, and holy, meek and lowly love. Is in thy proud parade of stately church And gorgeous ceremony, distant mien ? Thy cold half-hearted service, gabbled prayer And sleepy lecture ? Oh, thou Pharisee ! What good thy showy repetitions ? What, What went ye out to see ? A tyrant lord ? One to command display and silk attire So rich the poor e'en may not touch the hem, Beside thee kneel ? What love in rented seats ! How meek the living's wealth ! the bishop's state And charming palace ! Go, think ye of Paul, The early church and elders — bishops then. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 10J Idolatry, ye may have sifted, yet A sifting finer, finer, sadly there Is need of. In the world not many friends Drew to me, therefore, all the more I closed With lo's Son, my friend and brother. Oft He showed me how His Father loved Himself And me through Him, nor envious did I feel Though vast the number of His brethren was ; For all could love Him for His gentleness. His father, lo, being great and good, So awed me that I felt a coward in His presence, that scarce dared I then to speak. 'Twas then He took me gently by the hand And said ' Be not afraid. It is not thou Shouldest fear for they who love Him fear not, lest It be to do some wrong. Speak boldly out With fitting manner. He will meet thy thought Ere spoken, with so great a kindness sweet 'Twill set thee at thine ease, and make thee ask The more His teaching,' — and I found it so. No vestment needed, though a raiment white Would please as symbol of a cleansed soul. He loved to see a baptised babe, rejoiced When shewn a re-born beggar, lifting him Upon an untaxed couch beside Him. Nor Would He enquire of him his bishop's name Enough His Son had brought him. How He loves 208 THE BOVVER OF SOULS. That Son ! Lord, Lord, O let me love Him too." Far was the thought up-taken, echoing back In song and praise. What joy that ye could hear* That song ye doctors, subtle thinkers all, Who lost in learned speculation find A circle square, a straight line curved, or prove By cunning argument a point has breadth And height. What joy that ye could hear that song That rose in answer to a prayer sincere For simple love. No science caused that song. No thought profound, nor reason prompted it ; That full and sweet, unanimous Amen : 'Twas simple unrestrained love. One spirit moved, stood up, an Irvingite, And asked : ' Who here of this assembly paid The tribute ? Who possessed the equal faith To give a tithe of all and willingly ? Nay, few responded to our call when hard Attempted we to bring the Church to dwell On early faith. To purify the work Corrupted, office high transgressed and spoiled Of most its early excellence. Brought back The faith in tongues, interpretations, calls, * Eon often seems to lose himself in rapture, speaking to the outside world. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 209 And prophecy. And this without avail, Throughout the more extensive Church. And why ? We asked for tithes, for greater faith and preached A self denial strict, in loose and bland Luxurious times. Recalled to mind the words That told of days to come, and warned the world Of great responsibilities ignored, Forgotten, or defied. We knew that want Of faith, and scepticism predicted was To reign in later times, and lifted up The standard high and made austerity A weapon of defence, as much to test The following, as oft to combat sin And ridicule. Apostles far were sent To emulate the early church, and seal The sweet endeavour. Yet the clergy looked Askance, and obdurate held on their way.' " All eagerly now crowded others round, To speak, to shew, and loud proclaim the means. The Hne and conduct of their heirship. Perse Pressed by the Ind, Chaldean by the Greek, Yet he of China gained the envied point. Said he : — ' I make no claim of prior worth But urge my voice in full support of all p 2IO THE BOWER OF SOULS. That he of old Mizraim spoke. Full well The first nomadic hordes and Tartar tribes Knew Noah's God was theirs, but spreading far The cruel steppes were trodden both in want And fear. Made fierce, cruel, strange, by dire And savage life, what remnant of a true And early origin was left among Our children's children's sons ? But when the green And fertile oasis, and pleasant lands Of promise and of hope were found, the hearts Of grateful thousands opened out in praise. To whom ? The One who gave it, and the same Who had withheld it o'er the barren steppes ; The Soul of Life, the Being that our eyes Saw move and wake to life ; and which we soon In lieu of better choice had Fohe named. Maybe the tribes had early gained the name From Ind ; but as it was, what matters it ? It was. The nation rose coeval with, If not the first of powers. Art led forth Invention, science grew. Denied we power Ourselves. Ascribed was all to Him Most High, And great philosophers were held to be Divine. Confucius so. The good was not Of man, and so imbued were all that this Belonged alone to High Divinity, We buried man and blessed the gift of God.' i , THE BOWER OF SOULS. 211 " Great was the marvelling around, when souls Indignant, and who deemed themselves more near And orthodox, thus heard the voice Of China. Blank astonishment and ire Pervaded all. To think that races wild All unconverted and idolatrous Were represented there, was past the power Of comprehension, and the goodly curb Of civil humour. Were the labourers Who first had borne the heat and brunt of day But to receive the same as later souls Who had but toiled an hour ? Alas, how soon Can one forget how tares and thistles grow Beside the wheaten ear. How what is good And what is bad may still enjoy and breathe The self same light and air. And yet 'twas known How slowly sure great lo works, evolves, And permeates both man and thing with all The beauty of His will. Then why should rise Such envious feeling and dissent there ? Why ? Erst it appeared in conformation huge, A vast rebellion far amongst the shades ; Yet, brother, nay, 'twas but a bubble flashed. And it was gone, to then be seen no more. Spoke the Chaldean thus, ' The same with us Oannes called, we worshipped, and like thee Ascribed all Nature's wondrous gifts and arts p — 2 212 THE BOWER OF SOULS. To Him. These the Egyptians held distinct From Thoth ; their learning had advised it. Hence The sacred ibis flew a type of quick And flitting genius ; man's. Tradition gave Us not to hold these separate, but one ; And in Oannes centered, saw we great And patriarchal Noah, father, man, And master of the sea. Should one in haste Declare a country evil or despised When one of such a mighty worth was called From out it as old Terah's son ? or deem It blest that such was chosen from the land ? Methinks 'twas always held on earth, that men Of greatness and of honour being born At given place, did bless the country wide To which it then belonged. And long ere this Was fair Chaldea blest, for thence a world Re-started. Shem left not the land but spread Afar to east and north and south by Ham And Shinar. Yet I will but speak of land, I knew mine own. The proud Chaldean power Oft swept the nations o'er for many scores Of years. Then chosen from on High to rend, To lash and capture base Judea's sons, 'Twas blessed not once, nor twice, but o'er and o'er Again. And what if later on it felt, THE BOWER OF SOULS. 21$ Then idol cursed and fettered as it was, The Persian scourge ; it ne'er could take away The tale of blessings told. So I am here.' j " The Persian thus : ' Supreme we Mithras held ; The Soul of Light, the Light of Day ; but saw The mind of man and spirit of his dreams In Zerdusht.' " One, who from Phoenicia hailed, Here interrupted with a voice of pride, Saying, ' And we in MeUicerta ' ' Stay, O, wond'rous rover of the sea, awhile, Let mightier nations speak ; and hold thy lips Together, pirate, trader, sailor, seed Of colonies in one, while I for mine And Royal Persia say my word. Though wrapt In vast, almost impenetrable, myth And allegory, we kept the Light before Us. Great, mysterious, wild our dreams of good And evil. Fancy told us where the fays And fairies dwelt, and taught us all the deeds Of Peri good and Dives bad. This power Of light imagination spread in waves 214 THE BOWER OF SOULS. And circuits o'er the world, so vi\id was Its own insidious lustre. Yet we claimed The heritage. In all our works put forth, In spell of beauty framed, the attributes Of Oromasd were lifted high to set Example to be followed, while those to fear Were sho\vn in Ariman ; from giant's swords To fairy bells, theology was traced : In nectar cups and honey-dew we found The inspiration of a life to come ; And paradise. Still Mithras was our god ; And that the Sun, the Light of Day, of Life. Nor is't for me to speak of Cyrus great : Who chosen from on High to scourge and slay Idolators, to break the object carA ed. And help to build a temple of the Jews : Once moved a river's flow, and threw down Baal. Of him I speak no more. Renown is his, I cannot add to it, nor deign to try.' *' Now he of old Phoenicia rose again And said, ' I would I had not faced the Perse Of haughty mien just now. Intention stood Antipodal ; but, lest I be passed o'er |ft And e'en forgotten, I remind ye souls And representatives of powers new. That we of olden Tyre once held a place THE BOWER OF SOULS. 215 In national renown. When David's son, Bathsheba borne, would emulate on earth The halls of Heaven itself, and build a house In honour of his Lord, he scarce knew where To cut and quarry that required. Adroit, He cast about and called on Tyre's good King To then assist. And he, famed Hiram ours, Made Israel's King a friend, and praised his Lord ; Sent all of earth he deemed would tend to raise A song of thanks or hymn of praise to Him, The great and good. Phoenice was not the vile, Marauding thief that Persian pride would make It, nor a world of ignorance so name. It was a land of commerce, and whose sons Erst pioneered the many nations new. And yet to come, on fair a way to fame.' A Hindoo here then pressed his tribute words ; He said : ' With yonder Tartar we have Foh, And gave him birth, yet Brahma was supreme. Tradition wild to fancy led most strange. Old time, as ages rolled, gave birth to rare Confused and subtle myth, confounding fact With fiction, which ere long took place of truth ; Many the legend there that pictured well The moving waters, flooding waves, that swept The yelling thousands unto death. And tales That told of Noah and father Shem were oft 2l6 THE BOWER OF SOULS. The favoured on our children's lips, and lisped In pretty strain. But soon the fertile train Of Indian fancy warped and changed, by deep And cunning mixture, fair ungarnished lore And truth to falsest allegory. Still 'Twas known the great Creator lived, and Him We humbly Brahma named ; the Light of Day, Our fittest type of power. We knew no more Of lo than our present senses saw And felt. Again the fickle fancy changed, Supremacy was grafted on the stem Of human intellect, and Buddha named ; The soul of art and genius. Oft transferred From greater Brahma was our thought and prayer, And all the higher attributes were oft Ascribed to Buddha, Foh, or Vishnu least ; For left to his own inclination, man Will ever err. No godly man, nor wise And faithful prophet, came and taught the word To us, as did they to yon Hebrew soul. Left to ourselves, imagination soared And opened out in lily form, to cull And grasp what fruits the heavens above Would give by silence and by time. O'er Asia life eternal dwelt with us In doubtful theory. We dreamed the soul Would flit to other life with restless speed. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 217 Received we this from Memphis. Wherefore less Than man should life in other things around Possess a soul ? Presumed we not to say They did not. So, what might be came to be What was. And thence created life was viewed With reverence, a shortened step to awe And worship. Brahma yet created all. Does Brahma now personify the Great And mighty lo ? Ay, since I am here. It must be. Canst define or yet explain The secret of life in plant, or dog, or man ? Can Nature so endowed possess no soul Or spirit fair ? Or shall it be a thing Or factor of succession fixed in bulk In value and in quantity to go, To follow, in continuation far, From times of first creation until noAv ? The plant, the dog and man dies each by each And sinks to earth to form again its race And plant and dog and man lives o'er again ; So the material form and parts thereof Component. Where went Life that graced these things ? That thought and ran, that sang or sighed as danced They in the breeze ? Where went that Life, that which 2l8 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Declares a joy and lights the carbon fuse, The fibre, water, all, to sparkling beauty sweet ? It is not lost. May not the score of men, Of trees, of sheep, a score of each become A third of either of the kind, where two Of them become extinct ? The life that breathed In man to grace a tree, a tree a dog. Not all have young, and fishes die. Wilt say There are more plants and animals alive, Or reptiles, insects crawling than in times Of yore ? Where men are more, wild beasts are few. And ears of corn are borrowed. Trees give place To bricks. But, oh, how welcome is the thought, Great cities fall and from their ashes peep New blades of grass. Sweet blades of grass ! Tell me Were there not more in Adam's time, or shells Containing life in Noah's ? Then to life Succeeds a life, a soul, a living soul. If wanted not within its world, why may It not develop in a higher germ, z And order, just as gas or alkali ^ That fed a shrub, now feeds the tender roots Of elm, or oak, or cedar : touching all Mysteriously a fair probation run ? Satan became a crawling thing. An ass i THE BOWER OF SOULS. 2ig Once spoke, and devils entered swine. 'Tis shown When now arrived at man this Hfe, this soul Illuminates the image of his God And Great Creator now with consciousness, Supreme o'er all things, able now to search, Command, and govern spheres of lower life. Awakening sense and subtle inference Intelligent, then tells him there is more On high than even his capacity Can yet unfold, and he is near to death Again. But comes a touch of higher grace To him if worthy, and he lives again For ever. Born again to life more real And earnest, spiritual and true, man seeks No more to know. Yet he, ere this, who fell Again in death's abyss for awful sin. Is damned, but if by ignorance alone May be allowed another course of life. The heathen so, who never heard of law. Of old or new, revealed or unrevealed. Before Old Abram was, was lo's Son, Ever existing, ever able, wise And just. 'Twas He who knew a righteous man, Though Hindoo, heathen he might be. He lives.' " Received in wonder, such the weapon keen 220 THE BOWER OF SOULS. The subtle Hindoo used. Self-satisfied He made salaam and rested. Those of Rome, Of Anglia, and of Greece, were somewhat dazed At hearing such a wily argument, Anomalous in course, yet drawn to safe Conclusion. So with all yet learned, surprise And wonder seemed to hold them mute, as each And other soul stepped forth and spake their word. No dream, design, nor wildest thought e'er drawn From cultured brain, could overtake the hard And common fact. One could but blandly view The flower unfolding, and then dash his dream And reason in the face of actual thing Accomplished. Quiet, soul, 'tis being shewn. ' Humbly I claim to loose my word,' said one Of ancient Athens here. ' No envy comes ControlHng me against the wise and just Appointment. Scarce I knew till now the right And reason I was here. Clearer light dawns Across my brow, and newly-wakened dreams Pass by as shadows. See I now the good. The wise and mighty works of lo. Just And great his ways are ; praises full I send On high the louder. Dark religion came THE BOWER OF SOULS. 221 To Thrace, BcEOtia, and to us. The land, If Gomer trod, had lost all trace and track Of early footsteps. Dark too was the night, When no theology at all possessed The heart. Sol rose majestically bright, Magnificently powerful, and clear ; A touch of gladness making all things smile ; Then struck the earth. Why did we dance for joy? Why did we render thanks ? Or bow the head ? O List ! Because it seemed so thin a veil That hid the face of the A mighty ; Him, Through evanescent glory, gazing o'er His own. We worshipped Him. Then, later on, The lands both far and near returned us nought Wherewith to live. Our ships, Phoenician built. Were sent abroad to find us food ; success Crowned patient effort, bringing plenty : Ships So weighted by the beam, that danger grasped The helm. The Nile we thanked, and smiled again. So Ceres came. Our intercourse ne'er stopped With Egypt, but the larger grew. Their ships Would frequent bring their cereal cargoes full, To Attic shores. Ere long a goodly priest Of Bacchus came, and told the name of one We worshipped. This adopted, quickly rose 222 THE BOWER OF SOULS. The massive temples seen in ruins yet. Teachings mysterious absorbed the thought Of sages and of peoples, lifting up The vapours of an old, old life, to blaze Away in quicker flame, but dubious faith In new-born error. To Eleusia came Their thousands alien born, but not till years Had passed. So Dionysius, Bacchus, or Osiris, what you will, erst stood the great Creator we adored ; and Ceres, moon Or earth, as Isis at old Memphis known, Was intercessor 'fore her lord. High Thrace Her Orpheus, while Boeotia, Cadmus thanked ; Argos, her Inarchus ; whilst Phrygia soon Wafting away to schism, to Cybele Bent the adoring, willing knee. Fair Truth Again gave way before the pseudo lore. Weak man was e'er addicted to. How sweet To ingrate man ! How potent is the spell Of transient lies to govern him ! Now quick There came the multiplying gods, or names Of such repeated. Ceres, Juno, changed To fascinating Venus ; as the choice Locality prescribed. The Titans born, Conceived, imagined, floated in the air By scores. So aerial is the vanity Of poor humanity. Gaunt shadows trod H THE BOWER OF SOULS. 223 The earth, and darkness waved its cloudlike hand I sorrow. Well, alas, might Bacchus weep. Yet, though misled, sincerity outlived All superstition ; what we saw not there Still hovered round unseen, protective, pure. " Men too, initiated in the dark And secret mysteries, proclaimed them good, And the example wise. Three laws there were : To parents honour. To the gods first fruits Of earth to give, was ordered. Kindly love To brute creation. Good the principle, The rule well followed, ignorant groups Of men were nursed to piety and hope. All virtue, tenderness and charity Was taught, inculcated and fairly well Adhered to ; justice and humanity Impressed and practised. This I see and feel Is how we claim the heritage. How great Is lo in his goodness, wisdom, love ! Were these not Christian doctrines ? Terrors too When lightnings, thunders, howlings, cries and scenes Abhorrent, then were shown to chain up \'ice ? Did we not Nero turn away as fit No more for entrance than an unclean beast ? 224 "^"^ BOWER OF SOULS. Example taught, Rome followed Greece in creed And temples, myth and mystery, but less Its good and virtuous spirit. Some among The peoples there were good and upright men, Noble in thought and true, and doubtless touched By grace unknown, unseen till life came back.' Here one who early came from Norway, said : * Roamed have I far o'er silent northern seas, Bleak wastes and sterile countries, yet I knew Not how or why the brilliant orb we viewed, More day than night, was so revered by all My fellow Norsemen. As the little link We missed 'tween rise and set of sun connects The golden circuit, so theories I hear Complete the cycle of our ancient faith And wonder. Came we from old Perse or Ind Our mythic story likens, whether found We God in Odin, Thor or Balder. Still Remained to us the fiery orb above. We had the Persian Foh in olden song And prophecy of Vola, and their dwarfs And giants. There the Peri, pretty fays, Valkyriae ours ; sweet virgins fair adorned With charms celestial, bright with rosy bloom Of youth eternal. Evil genii frowned In Loke ; frowned as ancient Typhon scowled : THE BOWER OF SOULS. 225 But from him shrinking we to Odin turned, Or to benignant Balder, beautiful And just. To these for succour, help and grace We looked. To these we had to slowly pass By prowess. To Valhalla, mighty god Of battles, bugles sounded ; and to him, The glorious Odin, passed we on to death : Yet all the attributes we worshipped then But those of lo. 1 am here ; am here.' * Yet less the Arab's great fanatic power I am at one with him ' a Deist said ; * But one God reigns. Whether perchance He took For some omniscient purpose human guise And likeness once, or twice, or thrice, must rest As much a mystery as His far-off self. ' He spake by many mouths. And every mead And every hill declares His glory, power And love. Glad nature points to greater laws And preaches sermons wiser than the priest More often utters. This great source of cold Indifferent apathy sends to the groves, The fields, the woods, the soul that thirsts for life, For pure and living water, beauty, all That manifests the handiwork of God. Yet there he stays unsatisfied and falls Disconsolate. Nor can he kneel to oaks Q 225 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Nor hawthorns, violets nor roses. Nay He sees the all created, marks, digests Its beauty, but he sees not Him who made It so. IMistaken some of the old have knelt Before the Sun ; the life, the self-same life As theirs, in all similitude the same Look on a tree, a tree one sees, no more. But cheer thine heart, poor soul, look up, look up,. Look on yon blue, look on yon bank of cloud. And presently will such mysterious calm, Or dream, or influence come over thee Thou'lt sing and find a Spirit hitherto Unknown. Thou, raised above thy life, wilt seek To know more of its nature. This the priest Can tell thee. Go, go back to him thou erst Despised and learn of him the all he knows But oft can never feel. He may perchance Be agent for the passing of the Gift Or Spirit, yet like monies in the trust Of men, that gift can never call his own. But one God reigns. Am I to say he caused His Spirit but to manifest itself At one time only in His Son ? Nay, nay. Ere Abram was, was he, but one, one God One universal whole, that all men know That each may find in Spirit if he will. Allow that Jo's Son perchance appeared, THE BOWER OF SOULS. 227 The great, the wise exception to them all, Am I to arrogate my faith above The world of nations, and deny the rest Made manifest, because I heard them not ? Did the Almighty care for none of all The peoples He Himself created far Beyond the Hebrew caste, and leave to time By centuries the teaching of a Christ ; The gathering and the gleaning of His vast Extensive human harvest ? Nay, nay, nay.' Canto HI. EON, THE MESSENGER, EXPOUNDS. " It then remained for me to speak. I said : * Fair spirits cease ; nor bring thy schisms here For such endure not. Here one faith, one love, One awe of worship, whole, unites. Deep Yet soaring high, its verge of plane and arc Meridian infinite. Yet lo fills Each point and line. Ye enter this fair realm As erst ye entered in far meaner form The liquid atmosphere about the isle Of Earth. Knew ye the how, the why, the dark And subtler wherefore, that ye entered there ? Q— 2 228 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Nay ; so ye enter here. That ye are here Sufficeth then, nor cavil at the way Nor means great lo took to bring his own. Thought ye to quarrel while on Earth about The way ye came there ? Or, said one, I came By Afric, I by Ind, or I by Perse, By Greece, by Gaul, Phoenice, or Gothic land ? Ah, nay, the end that ye were men was all Ye looked to ; ye fought on other themes. From thence thy dust-cast soul hath flitted here. Content ye with the end obtained. 'Tis ours To order that ye find no other cause For discord. Know, good Rabbi, first addressed, That much depends on thee and thine on Earth ; 'Tis few obey the law as thou hast done : Great was thy love of lo, and much Hast done to make His name revered. His Son Accepted not by thee, yet hovered round Thy brow in Spirit, and though separate. United : satisfied by grace to know Thou honouredst Him, the greater of the Three. They stayed aside, nor enjoying glory His For being true to Him, it mattered not. Great lo's Son and Spirit worshipped were In lo. Much thy people have to do. The which if thou hadst careful been, the less Would be. For thine the first great law, and firs THE BOWER OF SOULS. 229 Religion, should the last be also. When Neglectful thou allowedst idolatry Its sway, there came a power to rectify. In Christian doctrine. Being peaceful, sure, And true it was but slow. Thy people blind To greater blessing it assisted not.* Iniquity e'en grew the deeper still. 'Twas thus there came a mightier present power ; Mahomet's sword. This swept the shores around Of Asia, Africa, and of Europe. Keen Its edge and strong its blow, it turned the hearts Of millions unto To ; hearts that thou Hadst left to sink in base depravity. This roused the attention of the Christian world. Created jealous ire. Their warriors fought A doubtful field, and thou wert made to see The work of lo. Ages passed. Anon, The sword was stayed. The slower Christian way Was gathering strength, the hand that held the sword Was influenced, and both sent forth its Word To distant nations, working side by side In peace. Yet what didst thou, O Jew ? Didst aught To push the word of lo ? Nay. Didst lift *In early times, after the later dispersion, it is probable that the Jews did make proselytes, but in a very poor way. 230 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Thy voice or finger in encouragement ? Nay. Still thy head was sunk indifferent, Morose, or cold and obdurate ; but yet Thou sawest the work of lo. That is here Recorded. So the three great forces* sped. Time comes when thou shalt work as well thy part. Time comes and thou accept'st great lo's Son. Time was when most were Jews ; time comes when most Shall be again ; not as they are ; 'twill be As they be. Schisms developed apace : Idolatry held many, Islam too ; And some o'erwhelmed the Christian Church. So count We many suns attracting smaller worlds As moons around a planet. First of old Grew worship of the Sun, of Brahma soon And Buddha, then from Islam came the thought To worship Deity alone. The world Of Christians founded from old Grecia, Rome, Or Anglia. So count we many lights. And each have lesser lights, as moons around A planet. Here there are of each great light. See, here, here, there, here, here again, there, there ; •Christianity, Mohainmedanisra, Idolatry. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 23I Then none may say that lo is not wise. Ye do not understand ; but are ye wise ? Thine eye may stretch to the horizon far Of thy small world and see no more. But note Great lo sees full round the sphere. Wait yet Until thou too canst see the same, and then The comprehensive view will teach thee where Thou knewest not how little thou wert wise. They here are those who proved sincerity Under their several lights, and lo knew It was Himself they saw when worshipping. Know, they who perish only see a form Material at their altar ; nought beyond. This is Idolatry, and he who prays To such will die. Sincerity alone May pierce the veil and see the Essence there ; One's Hpping words avail not ; 'tis the thought 'Tween soul and soul ; 'tween soul and spirit, which Availeth one. Mark then how one may be Of any creed, if he but be sincere To the Unseen Divinity ; for this Is lo. Woe to teachers who have taught That symbols of a God are such in fact, That wood, or brass, or stone, possess command Of Life ; deceiving humbler beings who 232 THE BOWER OF SOULS. In faith have trusted : these poor souls mayhap Have poured their faith, their hope, their charity, Given their bodies and their souls in trust, In penance racked their flesh and shed their blood, With all the nobleness men e'er possessed. Beauty of soul all lost to lo's truth. Through whom ? Their teachers. Woe to those who taught The doctrine. Yet for those poor souls deceived There is a hope in lo's wisdom ; for He saw their faith's direction. Meant for One Whose attributes are His alone, in His Great mercy He accepts their simple faith As though to him directed ; opes their eyes. Uplifts their souls, and takes them to Himself. What would'st thou more, O Jew ? Nay, not a tithe Of mercy for the teachers, duly raised To teach, for they, if qualified to teach Were qualified to search' for truth, which, blind In their conceit, they regarded not. Now, what hast thou to do, O Jew ? Con\'inced Of great dissension still on earth, convinced That unity in lieu should stand, thou art Commanded : first,* to turn to Jo's son • Roman XI. Chap. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 233 The true Messiah ; then to purchase back Thy Syrian vineyard of the slothful Turk ; And afterwards to work, to gird thy loins For lo. This thy people have to do. The great example of humihty Will rouse the world of Earth to emulate Thy work. Reception of the Christian word By the great Hebrew nations will recall The many millions, Islam taught, to thee ; The minor forces will unite ; sects, creeds, And differing doctrines fly as chaff before The wind : the Jews be Christians ; all the Earth Be Jews. How grand is thine appointed work ! Perceivest now why thou'rt a chosen band, A favoured people ? Thou would'st see the Son ? Nay, not until this work be done. Thy faith And thy humihty must first be shewn, O, proud and obstinate ! Thy riches strewn And cast abroad, to gather in thine own, To people old Judea. Then, when a weak And broken reed, and with a contrite heart Thou shalt be raised again. But hark, a song I' the air ' : Hail to thee, O Spirit, Hail to thee, all hail. Come ye to inherit Life within the pale. 234 "^"^ BOVVER OF SOULS. Soul of man immortal, Life, or soul, or shade, All is one immortal, Life for aye is made. Hail, hail, hail. Hail to thee, O Spirit, Hail to thee, all hail. Come ye to inherit Life within the pale. Spirits ne'er are dying. Life a spirit breathes. Life then ne'er is dying. Beauty round it wreathes. Hail, hail, hail. Hail to thee, O Spirit, Hail to thee, all hail. Come ye to inherit Life within the pale. Life is part of mortal, There a spirit lives, Seeming short to mortal, All immortal gives. Hail, hail, hail. Hail to thee, O Spirit, Hail to thee, all hail. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 235 Come ye to inherit Life within the pale, lo is a Spirit, Life a spirit is, Life is Id's Spirit, Each and all part His. Hail, hail, hail. ' 'Tis thus there is but one great soul, One life, one spirit, which is lo great. But hark the song ' : You are part, we are part And everything that lives Is part of lo. His Son is part, and part The Holy Spirit, all Is part of lo. He gives Life, thus we live, Withdraws it, and we die, Apart from lo. He breathes again, we live, His own for evermore, And part of lo. ' O Basis ! great and wise Of Immortality ! How blessed the work 236 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Of His Creation ! Yonder is the Light That veils from view Himself, the Lamb his Son And Holy Spirit. It remaineth then, O Jew, that thou perceiving now the means Whereby thou camest hither, well convinced The Trinity exists, as all must be Who sojourn here, will seek no more to lift Thy voice to cavil. Learn humility And leave thy patriarchs' hoar shades in peace.' A MARCH. Heard in the Air. Come ye men of Hebrew nations. Bow your heads to God Almighty ; Gather, gather, from all stations, March ye tribes to gladness brightly Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging. Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Men of Judah, hear ye, hear ye, Trumpets sounding to assemble ; Banners seek afar and near ye, Hurry so the ground may tremble. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 237 Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Come all Asia's thousands hasten, Europe's myriad brethren meet thee ; Not defying, nor to chasten. But to welcome and to greet thee. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended. For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. View how Afric's children dancing Beat the tabor in their gladness, Whole battalions now advancing. Lost is all their heathen madness. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nation's clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. 238 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Now they come from western mountains, Ranche and prairie, ocean sailing, Gathering from the icy fountains. Some from southern islands hailing, Now dispersion's ended Jews and Christians blended. For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Gird thy loins and strengthen surely Belts and bands when on thy way sent, Some may link and hold securely. Crowding round thee and thy raiment. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Benjamin and Judah call thee. Come ye tribes so long lost to us, *Come and cling, ye ten, nor fall ye. Hold to Judah or pursue us. *Zec. 8., 23. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 239 Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Waves the lion blazoned banner O'er the mighty hosts united, Raised their song in heart-felt manner, All old quarrels full requited. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging, W^eeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. Yet lest Satan stand before ye. Bring the valour of past ages To your minds when God fought for ye, Valour led by kingly sages. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging. Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. 240 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Come, triumphant Jesu leads you, Swell the train and march to glory, Fast the heavenly music speeds you. Choirs of angels sing the story. Now dispersion's ended, Jews and Christians blended, For Jerusalem. See the nations clinging. Weeping, praying, singing For Jerusalem. ' Think not the tribes are lost for that thine eye Is blind to recognition of thy flesh Absorbed among the nations of the world, And favoured upon High as much as ye. Aye, all will work for good. There away, there O'er Earth a greater toleration spreads, More broadened views expand, to lift the Jew From depths of intellectual void, and high Above the dark abyss of prejudice. To more enlightened spheres of charity Towards their fellow men.* Shall Christians be Behind ? Medicinal science high attained. Agrees with Moses' law of diet sweet And wholesome sanitation ; good 'twould be, * Eon partly addresses the outside world THE BOWER OF SOULS. 24I Patrician leader, Christian teacher, eld, Wert thou to meet him fair upon his ground, There teach abstention from forbidden food, And circumcise thy babes. Good time will teach The hesitating masses all, and strike A chord of goodly fellowship. He still May not be able to accept thy faith. But pray that he may grant a possible And probable embodiment of Him Their living God in Christ the man. And keep the law. Together all shall go And gain Jerusalem by treaty fair. For Moslem power shall sink and disappear Like the dewy mist before the rising sun. Watch ye for this to come, evolved e'en though Indifferent man unconsciously assist. Confer, confer, ye Greek and Roman priests With Anglian Fathers, Jewish Rabbis, all ; Agree to meet thy brother's faith and set The world at first aflame, to rise in peace And concord, phoenix-hke again. Attend. ' And thou of Galilee, wilt thou e'en speak With self-sufficiency ? He Afric's plains Have nourished has the truth in that he says. Who breathed more tolerant of easy faith And broader doctrine than thy Master ? What, R 242 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Dost weep and hide thy face ? Enough, then, now I need no more discuss thy brethren's speech. Though doubtless there were thousands who throughout The mythic night lost sight of lo's bright, Benign, and burning essence, there were those Who pierced the veil of painted wood, carved stone, Or moulded metal, there to see in thought The Light of Life and Love. ' Fair Grecia's priest And warm Italia's prelate both should seek By prayer to be possessed of such a love As those sweet ready tears allow. Why may Not Syria's leader have been sent of old By lo ? Thou hadst Holy Writ to tell Thee of the warrant of the sword to deal The dire and awful lessons of the scourge For disobedience. Teachings soft of peace For peaceful nations ; teachings hard of war For nations warlike. Who would proffer meek And gentle lambkins with the treatment dealt To fierce wolves ? ' Yet truly wert thou great, O, Roman pioneer, in going forth THE BOWER OF SOULS. 243 To teach the Word. And zealous leading there Where yet no other creed would dare attempt To follow. O'er the plains and mountains steep Thy fathers walked the continents in love And charity. Good work, good faith ; and thou Wert loved accordingly. Beloved church, O why ! O why didst break thy heart of love And set up stone ? ' Was it not said of old That *Pharaoh was up-raised to show the world Great lo's power ? Yea. Then why allow Not Islam's mission, probably divine, And for an era wise : the lamp's light burned With bright and searching rays, piercing far The darker world. When Islam hordes ap- proached The fold of peaceful nations they were stayed And driven back as arts, the attributes Of peace, were fast developed. When we see Not reasons wherefore, say not, 'tis not, but, We see not. lo great is good and wise. Go, go and pray.' " As many fell about To do as I had bidden them, we stayed Our counsel for the little while required." *Exodus, C. g. R — 2 244 "T"^ BOWER OF SOULS. Canto IV. " I then resumed. ' Let him who speaks of truth And reformation mark the words that once Were offered in all charity to all Who knew not sin ; for they alone may cast The hurtling stone. Oh, grace abounding sect, Beware ye lose not spiritual grace, nor change The essence for an idol false of words. Of confidence. Let not the sinner think That verbal trust and cold belief alone Will save, or that which ye already have Of grace may taken be away. A plenty great O'er other churches now is favoured thee, But teach them ne'er to rest till more like Him Who gave it. Yea, teach love, obedience full. That so the dead may live. Life of the Earth Is dead, but touched by the Spirit is raised To life eternal. There was Life i'the past. It is, and will be. Life is as the work Of man, a form of splendour put to use Of man. His work is worn and broken, thrown Away ; but Life, the work divine, was breathed Upon and fire of life was in it. That THE BOWER OF SOULS. 245 Too may be worn and broken, yet ordained Not to be cast away like that of man ; But like a loan so must be rendered back To Him who lends. Of Nature's life I muse, A work the Master saw was good. Enough. Yet should I help thee where I tell thee more This is distinct from better life on high. As there is unproductive life ere comes Productive life, when organs are matured, So marches life of grace ; spiritual life ; Here unproductive, there productive, fair. From some the little is taken away. To him with much is given more. A child May die, the loan of life goes back to Him Who lent it. Man the same, natural life ; But if possessing grace matured, what time Productive and a gift he puts aside Natural life, he cometh here to life Eternal : or is doomed beyond the gulf That separates the region of the saints From that of those who sin against the Gift. He that creates capacity for bliss Creates the sense of shame or pain. O seek, Seek not to teach there is no other doom Than one's remorse on earth ; 'tis mischievous ; Take heed, 'tis built on error. Grades there are, Of them I speak not. Some of them you know. 246 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Experienced in your conning, but nor ye Nor I have yet attained the highest place ; And some not e'en have been allowed to view The gorgeous Presence. Doubtless grades beyond The gulf are co-existent. That may be, I know not. An incipient Ufe expands In grade of beauty, so it may perforce Degenerate or yet arise from thence To occupy a true position here Unknown to us, yet gladdening the eyes Of its Creator. He would thereby show His might, and conquer over sin and bind The enemy. For what know we how He, Great lo's Son, did preach to those in chains That erstwhile sinned ? What the effect or end ? How grasps my soul the fuller beauty seen, The mighty work discovered ! Shall I cry Aloud what wonder fills me ? Weep for joy, For praise. To sing is not enough. For song Is buoyant, light and free. My soul ii weighed So heavily with tears of love and praise It seems that it must burst before the throne Of Him, the Lord, my God, and so anoint His feet with all the gushing stream the full But broken soul contains. I feel I love.' THE BOWER OF SOULS. 247 Aspire with all heart, with all soul to Life, As the trees and the hills grow high, O cast off the base and the dead of strife, As the dew o'er a bud falls by. Yea open the soul to receive and keep All the sweetness the Spirit gives. And store all the virtues in cells full deep. In the hive where their Source now lives. There falls the material away, dissolved By the fire of the Life therein, The sum of the crystalUzed change involved, To a gem from the dross of sin. Then up, take it up, by the elders crowned. On the altar of gold its place. Sweet incense of prayers will be wafted round To beseech the accepting grace. The hills, the glad vales, and the water brooks. As a voice from a harp well-strung, Shall send forth such chords to the far-off nooks Like harmonious thunder sung. And when it may be the Almighty marks The approach, and the prayer and song. The quiet will be like the ear that harks For the sound of a sea-rung gong. 248 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Then clearly the Judge will proclaim the worth Of the timidly proffered gem, Which free from corruption, nor soiled of Earth, Is received in Jerusalem. O mighty art thou Lord, Thine eye ne'er shuns Yonder world, O how small to thee. The lens of the air, and the light of suns Can but shew thee how small it be. I sang, then said ; — ' And ye who threw aside The apostolic grace and influence. To wear the haggard look, reproachful mien, And sanctimonious air ; know ye that deep And grievous wrong thou workedst far and near. For spreading insult lightly, and contempt For what was once a strong and holy thing. Ye led man's mind to scoff at all supreme And due authority. Destroyed the Earth's High sovereigns, and wrecked the fairest lands And principalities. The people's voice Ye lifted up to mock the hoary heads Of lo's just anointed and His priests. Think ye, however weak an after race Of priests by sinful habit may become. The grace the Spirit spread of old is lost ? THE BOWER OF SOULS. 249 Ye strike the Rock itself. Believe ye not Of prophets, priests, and kings the Spirit fell Upon in David's time ? Mayhap the king Or priest may sin, but still the potent grace Is latent there, and may revive, though back From twenty generations it has come. Yet here thou art. And why ? Of Httle faith Ye are, yet have ye verge enough. It brings Ye through the eras, to great lo's son — Believed ye grace came on through Jesse's line, Through Baptist John to Christ. And then no more. Oh, why believe all this, and not the more ? Why inconsistent stand ? Distinctly told In Holy Writ, and that ye credit well, That this same grace, all sweet refreshed of Christ, Was fair dispersed among his followers : Hence through apostles unto present priests. What grace ye have is only that possessed By all thy fellow men, not special grace ; Yet thou art here. It had been better hadst Thou not have scorned the rest. Thank lo great And merciful. What time the Spirit wings And enters man in special grace he hence Becomes a part of lo, capable To do his work, record his will, predict 250 THE BOWER OF SOULS. A future time or coming fact. So men Inspired write deeply, miracles perform ; 'Tis lo working through man. Prophecy Is part of His omniscience lent awhile For present purposes. ' Nor let a man Interpret far election wrongly ; none Are stayed from coming, though great lo knows Who will. For one may be in darkness, one In light, until the latter hour of life. And each as free as welcome. Tis the end That no man knoweth. lo knows that end And whence it came. The disposition, tone, Or love that led it either unto Him Or to its doom. The way the tree shall fall Is not pre-ordered but pre-known. So all The just elect are they whom lo knows Will end their life in grace, and come. Nor yet Is the creation ended, neither whole Nor part completed. Still 'tis known what like It will be. ' True it is that higher love And charity has come to thee and thine In later times, in place of harder rule Fanatic. So it is in prouder church, THE BOWER OF SOULS. 25I Ye meet the more as brothers than of yore ; But still if bishops were more lowly priests 'Tis thine to bow to their authority. Or wouldst accept a bishop so he were An elder called ? Where draw the line when each Same office does ? A chapel or a church Is still a house of God. Cathedral aisle Or chancel, as a consecrated cave's Dark corner ; but a place to pray in. When The heart pours forth be sure the Spirit hears Its welling flow. Come back, ye fallen sons, Come back to thine allegiance and partake The common grace. The Church as now reformed Is all sufficient for thy need, and loves The meek return of members that have erred. O rebel son ! come back and kneel with grief Depicted on thy brow within the fane Where apostolic grace abounds. Reform As oft as there is aught to mend, but turn Not right away from tenets, or thy mind From principles, established centuries Ago. If once in age medieval, priests Thought well to cleanse the Church of great abuse, 'Twas justified. But thou hast set thy will To bad and dire example. Mischievous, It led to schism all around. Inhabitants A thousand cities knew, were wont to live 252 THE BOWER OF SOULS. In compact harmony of social life, And as a body whole kept knit all close And well together. Seeing what was done By their religious elders, vanity Then arm in arm with self ambition false, Caused some to lead a party here, and some Opposing them, to lead another there ; A many heads and much dissent. Fast flew Opinions wild, and civil thought harangued. Would mock all sweet religious fervour out From honest men. And thou canst lead them now^ If willing, back again to unity. Wilt thou do this ? ' Compare thy faith with his ; Yon Irvingite, who not content with such As Romans teach, went farther still and lent Most cheerfully the tenth of all his worth. That it Avas needed not is nought. Think back Upon the flowing w^asted ointment fair From out the sparkling alabaster box. Think back upon the surplus broken loaves And fishes small. Enough is just, but more Is generous. His brothers' work is great And much to be commended. Were it poor And lowly, did it humbler walk, it were A mighty factor in the struggle yet THE BOWER OF SOULS. 253 For equal faith ; but where great riches, pride, And bigotry, take tyrant lead it fails. Its aim was good and noble. Its attempt To so revive the apostolic grace And prophecy, the mystic tongue and power To heal, interpretation, miracle, As then would emulate the early church ; Was true to grand and highest sentiment. Alas, too much it then attempted. Rich, It walked beside the Roman and the Greek, And gaudy vestment, tawdry symbols shone. Where simple raiment should have graced the church, Its priests, and angels holy. Half the aim Were good, and miracles should be received With humble thanks, whene'er their scarcer work Be known ; to seek them is a vanity Presumptuous, unbecoming to the priest And laymen of a humbler church. Much pride Is not an element of really true And Christian life, and arrogance has been At once the bane and downfall of the schemes That hither once have tended. Heed take thou. Lest yet a church of low degree replace Thy vaunted greatness, pride and mighty aim ; A vast community and army badged, Which hath Salvation for a name, and marked Upon the forehead as though making good 254 "^"E BOWER OF SOULS. Prediction. All thy graces may be lost, And given them to bless their giant work. The lowly then may be exalted. Shall The mighty be brought down ? Take heed, take heed. Thy faith is great. ' And thou of China vast, Chaldea and Phoenice, tis as ye say Thine own have seen the light ; but mighty hordes From thence have found their doom. Great multitudes Were swept away by reason of neglect Inherited of generations back. *Much sin, however, was regarded not When old time ignorance its evil sway Held o'er the people. Sin enacted then Was mercifully passed o'er for sweet Remembrance of the created work Of man, though erring through a careless will And disobedient when accomplished. Times Far back, when ages like an infant ran. Philosophers would teach all life was God, One whole, and but expanded Unity. Various means they took, upholding truth And virtue ; much sincere, harmonious good, And pious work, was done for thought of rest •i Tim. I. 13. Acts 17. 30. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 255, And immortality. Their heroes men Of probity and courage. With ideas Of evil, Typhon led, and those of good, Should not a man of worth be true in aim For such immortal happiness as is Embodied here ? Oh, Egypt, sadly low Thy might has fallen, carrying with thee all Thy Afric neighbours. Thy philosophy O'er-reached itself and fell again to earth And nature for simplicity. Ye who Upheld the deeper insight in the dark And mystic unrevealed, and spoke of times Before creation, where is now thy state, Thy thought, and meditation ? Ye who sent Thy sages or philosophy afar, To Ind, Chaldea and China east : what now Remains of thy old learning or of their's In present times ? Thou biteth very dust. But wake ! It heralds something better now. 'Twas but to teach humility. Bereft Of cunning thought and subtle doubt, without Thine old philosophy to beg or much To cavil with, thou shalt receive and hail The blessed news of lo's Son, and his O'erwhelming sacrifice, with greater cheer And welcome than shall many greater powers And nations. Hail ! The day shall come and thou 256 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Be great again. Yet first 'tis thine to throw From off thy neck the Islam yoke, or be Absorbed in Christian rule. For mark, ere long Will be a movement o'er the Christian world, That hard will shake the old rapacious wolf From out his lair in Afric west and east. And fire the old dam's den in Europe fair. Place double guard and raise thy battlements. Call up thy holy war, and mount the flag Of faithful Islam round ; and when the march Of Europe's armies near, go sleep the sleep Of death, or fire and sword shall make thee. War Nor flag of thine is feared now. Lo, thy blood, Now foul, shall freely flow to nourish far The lands that thou hast wasted. Woe to thee. Yet thou, Chaldea, and e'en thou, Phoenice, Although a scene of trouble for a time, Shalt raise thy horn again and see a land All blesssed again with plenty. Egypt so As well, but after Islam is no more. Its time will come. And, oh, prepare ye all. ' Of Persia thou, all powerful, great and proud, Learn gentler words toward thy brother here ; For he from Ind, and they from all the parts Of Asia, west and east, are true as thou To lo. Caste there is not. He from zones THE BOWER OF SOULS. 257 Of Arctic Europe is thy neighbour now, And all thine ancient greatness, power and state Is as the field that hoary mowers passed But now their whetted scythes o'er. Though caste There is not here, most men of nationed earth By inclination are divided. Where A people mass together there will bud A tree of classes branching always four — The teachers, clergy, represent the caste Of Brahma. Soldiers, men in power, will stand For Chiltern. Farmers, merchants dealing wares For Bice. Last do come the labourers For Soder, slaves of men. All nations have It so, and progress smooths distinction crude The more advanced the more is one, and if The spirit guiding it, fraternal grows 'Tis good, but if malicious ruin comes, If class shall war with class, 'tis war of hell. So teach good-fellowship. Much work and good Came from thy land, and marvellous the sure Development thereof. The cradle nest Of many nations ; first thy sons o'erran Old Egypt, Syria fair, and Arab land, And Pali shepherds fought against the world, As known. Yadavas and Pelasgi, Celts, Fierce Scythians and Goths, o'erswept the shores Of Thrace, the Euxine passed, from thence to north 258 THE BOWER OF SOULS. And west sat down by other seas. They fought And founded principalities. There followed In train the Sclaves from Asia high in line Of latitude, the fourth and last great wave Of race and men. They pressed their way but stayed By force of earlier might ere they had reached The Baltic, Adriatic, Marmora seas. Repulsed, they watched aggressive, grasping here And grasping there the smaller bordering states All eagerly as weak they grew, or when As oft occurred they were not watched in turn. Great yet the good that came of all this work, These wild incursions, savage though they seem. In time the faith of Christ absorbed the whole Of Europe, 'cept, perhaps, one little state. Combined, yet mixed, these races crossed the seas Still on towards the setting sun. The new Land found, a vaster commonwealth grew up Where now all caste was lost, and hand-in-hand Would labour priest or soldier, labourer Or slave. Though slow, perchance, religion comes To hard-worked people, making homes on new And unknown soil, the better fitted they T' accept the faith of lo's Son where caste Is lost. It is not hard to see this land THE BOWER OF SOULS. 259 Once peopled, sanctified, and fast therefrom Great expeditions sent again across The seas towards the setting sun ; to preach The gospel sweet in China, Thibet, Ind, And so like faithful children go right home From whence they came : and turn the dealer's doves And merchandise from out the fane, quick cleanse The sacred house and make the temple new. Thus purified, O what a train Could go and help to build Jerusalem Anew. 'Twould face the lion as it came To people Syria. * What, and thou of Greece Mourn, mourn, ye men of Ancient Greece and Rome. Mourn, mourn, the thousands that have passed away In ignorance, in profligacy and crime. Thine argument is fair, but few indeed Have seen it. Rather mourn for victim crowds ; Yet bring again to mind the slaughtered rolls Of fellow beings led to satiate Debased and cruel rites. Weep yet, and dwell Upon the bloody floors and brutal scenes Of thine arenas. More of Holy Light s — 2 260 THE BOWER OF SOULS. And Faith's high teaching hadst thou than a score Of other nations ; living Light. How used Ye it ? Say ye. How used ye it ? Ye quenched It in a martyr's blood. Yet not yourselves, For thou art here. But weep for nation's sake. Oh, what an awfui nursery was there For infant christian life ! Oh, think of it And mourn. Yes, doubtless, I can see A nobler thought arising in the man, Who, eager came to view the bloody knife. The stalwart arm, the tiger's claw, or fire. Along the vast theatre there. I see Him turn with sickly pallor to a friend. With marked disgust, yet fearing e'en to speak, Or whisper soft, a single manly word In protest. There the victim being flayed Alive. He dare not move or speak. But what ! The traitor looks above. He sees the sky And thinks. And this the thought. * O Mighty One Or God, or Father, Lord Creator great, And thou who made the world and put his blood In man to flow ; have mercy upon me, A sinner. Save me from the like of this. And cruel men.' Acknowledgment was there And prayer. What time was heart-felt prayer ignored ? THE BOWER OF SOULS. 26l Canto V. " Brother, long ere I closed my simple words There had arisen gentle murmured sounds Of approbation. Now, these grew and soon Became a grander chorus, burdened thus : Go ye, gentle spirit, go, Haste thee to the old world so That thy voice may charm and win Hearts away from crafty sin. So beguile the good and pure. Thence may they the worse allure. Gain the elders, teachers all. Trees are dead when branches fall. Go ye, spirit, go, Haste thee, haste thee so. Tell the learned scoffers there Of the greater science fair ; Deep the problems let them see Of which faith alone is key. Onward then around, afar, Flit ye as a speeding star ; Light the way of wanderers o'er ; Show them what a Hght is for. Go ye, spirit, go, Haste thee, haste thee so. 262 THE DOWER OF SOULS. " Then softly rising through the ambient air, Still hearing in the distance sweetest strains Now quickly lessening in their clear refrain Of ' Go ye, spirit go,' onward I flew. Immense that mighty realm, and ere I reached The glittering outer gates I paused to mark A question, or to render answer kind To many happy spirits who were quick To seek a closer place to higher courts. Assiduous to explain, yet anxious I To gain the distant goal, I could but bear The many interruptions. Oft I was Surprised to meet with one I knew of old. And oft as disappointed seeing not One dearly loved on Earth. Had that poor soul Been circumvented ere it left its sphere By wile of unclean spirit ? Next I passed A glad and purged soul who times ago I left in deepest Atheism. He would Have knelt but for a warning hail to keep Reserve, and consecrate such posture yet For one whose due was absolute. What change There is in mind of man ! It must be good It is so. If 'twere strong, unwavering, Constant ; small hope there were for ignorance And vice. That were but common instinct ; mind Of animal, not as a man's, whose mind THE BOWER OF SOULS. 263 Developed to a soul can reason, hope, Command, and venerate. This is the type And image of his Maker. He in this Superior is to all created things. The soul or spirit comprehends a soul Its like, and comprehends the theory wise Of greater Power. 'Tis universal part Of lo, therefore where is man is He Where'er life is, is He, yet not the same In type and image. Many spheres of life There are denied this honour done to man. Anon I heard a sound of busy wings. And presently I saw a company Of angels bearing in their midst a man Of aged aspect, beautiful to view ; Such peace, benevolence and calm reigned there. The bearers sang : — O come and rest thy weary feet. Our Lord awaits his own. Come thou, and couch by Jesus' seat And by the Great One's throne. Well done ! thy faith a thousand more Inspired to follow here ; O, dear one, wake, thy journey's o'er ; A peace unknown is near. 264 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Hear how the tuneful welcome sweet Swells through the radiant air, In ecstacy are all to meet A soul whose life was fair. Peace, peace to thee ! Oh ! gentle heart ! Rest thee a well earned rest. Now but to praise remains thy part For aye among the blessed. " Thus cheered so happily, Appreciation rose all o'er his brow, Like sweet peach blushes o'er a maiden's face. Enquiring then of those about him who He might have been, I gained for answer curt And simple, ' One who good was living ; good In death.' No more, so went I on my way. Nor had I gone in full compliance with My loved commission far, ere streams of light Shot the meridian high. Delight came o'er Me as blaze after blaze enriched the scene. Resounding music filled the air with songs As of vast choirs intent on vying with Reverberating thunder. Dense the crowd Of angels passing. Curious awhile I hovered by. Still on, and greater grown Each instant, yet the demonstration passed. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 265. No thunder harsh or grating to the ear. But clamour equal to its compass loud, And searching ; sweet withal and beautiful. Twas then I stole me closer, marking cause Of such a great announcement. Bore they high In glee a man whose age was that between The young and old. Soon gathering all that could Be told, I learned that he had had his cup As full of sin as youth could fill ; yet now Had come repentant seeking Jesu. Him He found. This was the joy. Such the return. Rising again, I sped me onward full Of thought rejoicing. "Hurrying ere long 1 met two more whom Faith embraced by Hope Would picture. Shyly speaking to me one, With stranger consciousness, enquired if soon Encouragement would beacon them to cheer. As time and distance fettered hope. Far flown Their coming. Glad t'encounter such request I answered thus : ' Fair yet thy portion rests About thy brow. Thou art within the realm But barely crossed the boundary. Here are set A numerous angel host, faithful to serve. 266 THE BOWER OF SOULS. To guide, protect and guard with careful watch ; They help the weary and the wandering, And soon arrested would have been thy flight : But meeting one who other work has yet To do, so let him now refresh thy soul With sweet encouragement. Thy winged strength Will bring thee first, upon thy guarded way Long narrowing unto the Gate of Faith. That, none but Saviour known can enter by. Another gate that whilom stood was known As that of Law, though oft Obedience called. Still may it stand erect but little used. Ye known of lo's Son will pass by Faith, Mark well the beauty of it. Treading o'er A blue-grey ether soft, thy mirrored eye Will then reflect unto thy sense the Gate ; A vast prismatic arch set all around In cloud-like folds of deeper, cooler grey, The portal rose, with tracery of gold ; Through which fair colonnades of varied hue Etherial show. The red gate opens wide At word of Faith, and angel guards soft clothed In tender tints all throng around in praise. * Then having passed the gate, the grey dissolves, And golden light obtains. A far more grand Extensive view unfolds itself within. THE BOWER OF SOULS. 267 The colonnades are fan-like, stretching far And intersected by fair avenues All circle half-determined. Genial warmth Is everywhere, and all partake the glow. What time Arcadian pleasure joyed the heart Of jocund peasant, classic youth, or maid In simple garb, was barrenness and dearth Compared with happiness herein. Beyond, And further, quick conducted find you more Of wider beauty. Far as eye can reach, And yet but flap of spirit's wing, expands A billowed plain of softest down of bird O'er which a web of unsubstantial silk Is smoothed by unknown hands, a gossamer That but for lighter air would disappear. O'er this is shed a twilight tint of green And ruby rays all intermixed in line And volume undefined. Suspended oft Are canopies of deeper tone, as though The light were cast athwart through darkened lens. These but a resting place for weary wings ; There thou wilt wait, till summoned onward yet. And yet, and yet. * This region first, is called The Field of Dreams. Here resting, all thy dreams 268 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Of yore recur in vivid force, unless Full strong in faith, for then, the base are barred ; But thou, if weak in Faith, had better keep Thy wing and flight, till gained the distant plain Beyond. But rest, and thou wilt know the cause And reason, time and meaning, of a dream Forgotten ; but recorded. Why it seemed When erst thou dreamed it, that 'twas dreamed before. The place and persons all familiar. What Disturbed thy mind to think of unknown scenes And faces, what bestirred it to recall And make to live the dear one gone, or slay In vision friends that lived. All this but part Of thine annealing. ' Passing onward next Wilt come to plains illumed with silvery flash Of light, but toned to thine endurance small. These are the Plains of Living Thought. From thence All origin of genius on the Earth Speeds as an arrow barbs the empty air, To find its sheath in mortal brain. And there Wilt learn far more than ever learned before, Yet knowledge measured by capacity, THE BOWER OF SOULS. 269 While granting its equation, will absorb Thy latent sense. First thoughts that made the man A power ; a leader of his race or head Of clan ; a pioneer in science, art And literature, will now be known again : As well as thoughts that are in waiting yet, Or still to be discovered. There, is seen The emanation of a kindly love And sympathetic glow where poverty, Distress, or pain demands a warming ray Of comfort. ' Thence far shoots the gleam for man To cradle and to foster into high Mature ennobHng charity. Thence comes The child of fancy lulled to rest an age In letters ; or harrowing problem threshed From out the husks of ingenuity. And when a long premeditated deed Has culminated to an action prompt. Thence comes the thought resiHent from itself To seek a hiding place in shame, remorse And sorrow. Thence the sweeter thoughts that come When all our better self has drifted far At sound of charming music, and enwrapped 270 THE BOVVER OF SOULS. Its being in a weird identity Most strange and difficult to fathom. Lone And lost but beautiful withal. * Beyond Perforce directed wings, though fresh sustained By deeper kindled thought, arrive before The grandest architectural pile designed In any era yet. Triangular, Unique ; no fane on earth can be recalled As similar in part thereof or whole ; Unless its carbon crystal substance bears Resemblance to the diamond below. Bright glistening in a sun-bathed light. Its base Lay deeply pillowed in the varied hues Of softest heather tones. Its columns rise In fair proportion, bearing pinnacles And towers arched, to grandly balanced breadth And elevation. ' This, the Hall of Truth Is subdivided from its centre there, Where stands a golden altar and a bar. Thus forming with its outer angles far The area of three spacious courts. 'Tis there That Purity conceives its presence sweet. Distils its essence rare, and sends it forth THE BOWER OF SOULS. 27I To burn an incense o'er the clean of heart And mind. MoraHty, the second court Nigh swells to bursting pressure, as its valve And worldly requisition is but small. Yet, there forsooth 'tis stored in vast accume. The third is Reverence, a court much used As thousands of its devotees absorb, In quick participation, spirit sent Abroad, afar, around. As class and class, And grade and grade, all mingled far and near. E'er need it. Whether it is used for ends Yet other than legitimate or no, It must come back to its Creator here. Ay, much advantage is obtained by souls, In fleeing upward, passing through this court ; And then the second and the goodly first. For all commune within the golden ring. • Passing again beyond the Hall of Truth, For e'en the deepest themes and problems dark In old theology acquire a fair And early shape and uniformity. One reaches out upon the broadened Plains Of Light. 'Tis there the pennant of the wing Must be outstretched in quicker flight. Yet haste Thee to o'ershadow with its netherdown 272 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Thy vision from the light. All source of heat Is here, and every form of fickle light And deep intensity the plains comprise ; So thou shalt quicker go. Look not around But let anticipation pilot thee. Stay not. Electric and magnetic force Is first engendered here. Yet, fear thou not If well enveloped with the essence sweet From courts below ; no conduct shalt thou give To currents hovering through the plain. But haste Ere that sure essence wings as well. ' Now led Unto the Laboratory of Force, thy flight May be of slower pace. There gravity. Attraction, motion, pressure, and relief Thereof, are first ideas. The source of weight And measure ; chemistry all governing ; Geology resulting. Quantities Adjusted ; motion, pressure there restrained. Or here accelerated. Alkali And acid, placed and mingled, where to be In animal, or plant, or glittering gem. There too the sweet vibration causing sound ; Th' incipient chords of music dwell, a charm Upon the ear. 'Tis grateful to abide THE BOWER OF SOULS. 273 A little here. The senses all are formed From the embryo, or the hidden germ Unto the perfect sense. Surrounded there By perfumes, that but add a chain of joy To the already bounden captive sense, One hears a sigh of harmony ; a breath Of music, such as one might wish would raise And bear him to eternity. To dream 'Tis easy, that thou art already there ; Yet 'twill be hushed and lost a time to thee Until the Source is reached. What kinder grace, What better harbinger of beauty fair Than music soft ? ' Howe'er, to soar thy part Remains. Onward ; and music is no more, Left for a higher theme. Thou presently Wilt come to regions yet more beautiful, E'en more elysian yet ; surpassing wit Of earthly savour so to comprehend. For lo ! the Atmosphere of Beauty bathes The wondering subject on the soaring wing. In all the varied colours blended through The ages past. Ay, there the eye may roam, Not only o'er the hues all known on earth. But o'er resplendent tints and semi-tones Appearing in the realm itself. And form T 274 "^^^ BOWER OF SOULS. Obtains a height of beauteous curve and line Unknown to mortal ken. Think not I show That hue and colour hath preceding place Of light, for thine experience as it grows And gathers weight, will tell thee how these plains And pleasant gardens do but radiate Around the Source in circling balance nigh. ' But here the very thought of form and hue Hath first essay. The yellow emanates From light, as colder judgment from a king Deciding from his seat o'er what is wrong ; A symbol of the Godhead, power and might ; But ere deciding aught, comes there a rush Of glowing rose, of fervent charity ; And so intense a warmth of brotherhood Were justice like to lapse, were not a veil Of cooling ether and of liquid blue To warm the one'and tone the other o'er As soon to balance both. So trefoil like They come together forth. Combine to glow Throughout the field of Nature's fancy fair Or fill apparent void with beauty. What Do colours not invest ? Can mind or thought Imagine world without them ? Nay dear soul. It is not that they must be. As the staff THE BOWER OF SOULS, 275 Of blackest ebony, or blossom pure Of snowy white, shall change not in the light Of sun ; so might the thousand hues of earth And nature but be white or black. Think then And all thy senses war not, what of praise Is worthy so much pleasure. There besides Is form of joint and vertebrae, of curve Or angle varied, lens of eye, and hair Of bee's foot, feather down, and scale of fish ; The form of wing and fin, of orchid, rose, And sea anemone, alike of toad And goodly horse ; the form of leaf and tree. Of scorpion's fang, of lily sweet, the snake, And that of man and woman fair. Knew ye That centipedes were beautiful, or lost Ye chance of viewing them ? Misled perhaps By unfamiliarity. These things, However much to earth they appertain. Have had their forms incipient there designed. And there developed. So, the Atmosphere Of Beauty sheds its charming spirit o'er Fair Nature's work, and so adorns a world. * Then leaving this behind thee ; with perchance, As much regret as thou wert wont to leave The soothing cadence of the music passed ; Soon will appear, as nearing now the Source, T — 2 276 THE BOWER OF SOULS. The Nebula of Harmony. 'Tis there Where rest awaits thee. Ay ! the goal of dreams, Of faith, of truth. Much aid of force, of light And beauty, will have tended to secure It. There find Law and Order and of all That is ; a combination sweet withal. More oft perhaps 'tis named the Bower of Souls. Thy coming will be heralded by all With much acclaim. On high there gleams most bright The Light and Source of all. To hear the voice 'Tis possible ; to see the more 'tis not. That is reserved. Wouldst learn the more of sweets Elysian, go thy way. Well may ye fare Now hie ye quickly. " Spreading wings again We now departed on our separate way. For time of short duration all was fair And clear ; and swiftly rest refreshed I flew. It was as though my soul was lighter yet, As mortal kens the feeling of a morn Of cooler air, all lit with sunny rays ; More elevated may be, ne'er-the-Iess, 'Twas like unto it. Presently I marked THE BOWER OF SOULS. 277 The gathering vapour rolling round below, And rising, spread in front of me. I knew At once that vivid flash and awful sound Of far reverberating thunder clang Would then succeed. Close conscious of the cause I, heavenly armoured, onward went. With awe, Yet safely joyous midst the deafening din And blue-hued lightening now that forked the air, I kept my way. Upon the cause I came Ere long. It was a woman's soul whose flight Was slow and laboured. Though protecting guards Were by she knew it not and cleft the air Apparently alone. Her troubled face Depicted one in abject fear. I learnt From one attending her that she had been The cold, irreverent, careless wife, of one Who greatly feared his God. She, not so vile As now deserved a separation, was ; By his sweet sanctifying influence, Now being brought by indirecter way Towards the all annealing grace. Nor ill Was she as wife to him, for truly good Was she accounted there on Earth ; all true. Obedient and industrious ; but without The warming spark of heavenly fire and love. 278 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Now she it was who on her troubled way, Would, ere she neared the Gate of Faith, have cause Profound to thank her lord and claim in prayer The harbour safety of the realm. " Still on I kept and quickly passed through air disturbed So fretful for its burden. Souls there were Of doctors and divines, and souls of those Who had been warriors both by sea and land ; The worker of a craft, the delver, who Had lived all night, all day, deep down the mine. And great the peaceful number of that class W^ho till and toil upon the land. Fhese men Who dressed the land were doubtless favoured much As though the charge and trust all theirs had been, To keep, to guard, improve the beauty fair And usefulness, of what the greatest Hand Had made ; and grand it was to see the beam Of love so balanced o'er the different grades Of men, that once at least and once for all They were in fellowship. If lowlier place To some were given, yet, the units dwelt All conscious that the one was merited. The other scarce deserved. Not tarrying THE BOWER OF SOULS. 279 To speak to all, I suddenly became Aware, the view around was not of heaven ; The sweet elysian fields I knew were masked Though great the beauty that replaced them. " High, And on my left a giant screen of cloud Hung in the air, with scenes I knew of old Thereon depicted. Lo, a vast mirage. I gazed in wonder, almost dreaming wings Had played me truant ; that I had arrived Unknown, so soon on Earth. The domes, the spires. Embattled palaces ; a city's wealth Of ships, of mansions, and of monuments. And there as in a radius sided line A view of landscape plains extending wide, All fresh with verdure gleaming 'neath the sun. And there again a scene of other towns Far distant, ether clouded. Quiet reigned. Or seemed to reign, and all bespoke of peace. How gratified I was to see it so ! Not that fair lands and peace would tell of love. Or reverent obedience, for I knew That much iniquity was possible E'en in the prosperous epochs of a world ; 28o THE BOWER OF SOULS. Still glad I felt that peace seemed there. 'Twas cause And base for people to be good and wise, And so more thankful. As, alas, about To reason further, and to store the way And means thereof, surprise fell o'er the light Of all my subtle thought, extinguishing Its brilliant gleam as water will a fire. The lent reflection of a scene on Earth Had quick dissolved, and but a mist appeared For many moments. " Then like zephyr waves That cheer the sickly pallor of a face Which erst had fainted, came a roseate hue I thought to joy me. But fast as it swelled I bowed aside with horror. There, mirage Again with fell distinctness shewed me war. Irregular and curved were lines of red And bright as rivers shone ; and gory fields Portrayed in striking contrast, by the green Of meadows left untrodden yet by ranks Of fierce soldiery. Much smoke and fire. And falling towers shewed a ruin great, As yet untold. These things of moving weight Perforce engaging all my eager gaze, Then nigh arrested me. Fair peace had flown THE BOWER OF SOULS. 281 To leave the world in bloodshed and it seemed In dread calamity. A something white Oft hovered o'er the scene, but man, or horse, An orient frock, or flowing surplice wave, I could not gather to my eye so sure As to identify. But now again It clouded o'er, and left but Ukeness fair And close to sheer reality. " 'Twas then I thought to double speed, and so to catch Fore-running moments by the heel and clip Their wings. But, ere the thought took certain shape In braver action, high a glorious view Appeared ; this time the scene was counterpart Of that at first I saw. A landscape sweet And beautiful, e'en simulating more A grand terrestrial glory, and for man A more triumphant crown and course of peace. Between two hills a valley swept. On one, And on the very verge, a wall of stone Of massive nature or construction reared Its sombre strength. Beyond, another hill Kept guard as man will guard a treasure. Great In number were the buildings, and new built ; Bright glittering all beneath the mid-day sun. 282 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Though full the city teemed with mortal souls Yet thousands [more in concourse came. They streamed O'er hills and vales, they streamed o'er desert plains, And sailed a fleet of ships. All hand in hand In peace, in plenty, and in love, the throng Would gather, gather still. The lands around Were bright Avith harvest tints, and village nests An over-crowded colony had made. That peace was there the many altars told, All open to the sky, with worshippers Around them. And that plenty reigned was seen By much of gleaming gold. The silver there, Though great its white reflection, was by far Of less account, as where the heavy rains From clouds above caused overflow, 'twas that That led its way to safer reservoir By sinuous paths. The quantities of gold Would speak of richer fields than I had known Discovered, for the largest temple stood, Cathedral shaped, a solid mass of it. So though I could not mark the detail close, I saw what told of one great common weal, One common work, that all were then engaged In. Catholic towards a purer good. The scene dissolved. I saw no more, and pressed THE BOWER OF SOULS. 283 My breast aslant the wind. " How beautiful Could men be brought to act with one idea ! Combined to work for one great good, for one All, all absorbing theme in sweet accord ; 'Twere nearer heaven. But how ! the man adult With scores of fancies, likes and dislikes old, With taught convictions, prejudices rank. Could never tack his sail to such a breeze, Or bring his bark to such a harbour. List ! 'Tis not a generation, one, or two, That may ; but if a child is taught to scan And so regard the future good, his sons Will lose the old world rule, and be henceforth Confirmed in this the better principle. If this be then to raise or level up The more debased, or bring down harsher minds And incongruities of would-be men, It is at least a purer, nobler aim, Than meanly scoffing at a higher caste. Or spurning what is lower. Caste will cease By force or voluntary deed. Shall man With God-like reason then elect to dare The dread alternative of bitter force ? 284 THE BOWER OF SOULS. Alas ! an answer comes not yet ; nor I Am given to say. No worldly social quest Herein is pending, but a thing of real And utmost moment to the soul. I would It were on earth considered more. This thought Erst quivered in the case of earnest wish And inclination was in arrowed flight Then hovering o'er its goal. O that the verge Was wide enough, the telling bow was strong, And elbow angle true ! " The radiant air Was now more clear, and soon I overtook My average flight. I journeyed long through time In sweet enjoyment of a reverie soft And soothing to an anxious soul who had A doubtful task before him. Darkness drew Around, which, as I knew not night on high, I felt was then a stranger incident ; But blacker, denser still it grew. A few More quickened strokes upon the shadowed air Brought me to flickering lights as though in search Of something fallen. Soon distinguished, there, I saw a throng of mourning spirits, dressed THE BOWER OF SOULS. 285 Apparently in soft monastic cowl And habit ; carrying lamps antique and chained As censers. Much resemblance had they all To old Carthusians which sometime walked The Earth. A psalm they sang ; one from among Those of the Psalmist old and best. It was The " Miserere mei, Deus," which Then sounded sweet and quaint. Still curious For any good, I sought the searchers' quest. 'Twas one of many bands of pioneers Who voluntarily helped and looked for souls Who strayed, required sustaining light and wing. And often they would seek their old world friends. Or such as they expected. This would end Most frequently in saddest circumstance And utter disappointment. Then it was they mourned. The psalm they sang would often be the means Of saving wing-wrecked souls. No soul was lost When it had come e'en nigh the realm. This was But one of many ways whereby the weak Were oft assisted. Now they mourned. For one 286 THE BOVVER OF SOULS. Found not his son, and one a brother loved ; A sister one had missed, a father, wife, Or daughter was not found ; a mother one, A husband yet another lost. To one I gave what glad intelligence I could, And told the aged spirit that I passed His daughter many moments since. Then rang From all a peal of such rejoicing song, That fair I thought the darkness would have gone For shame of inconsistence being pressed Upon its visage. Then, Tedeums sung, They went their way still mourning for the rest. " Ere long the light to me was present ; so I hastened onward once again. The way Was joyous pleasure. Many leagues were passed. Yet ere the boundary of the glorious realm Of light and ambient warmth was reached, the sum Was great indeed. And presently I stayed Me when I saw a crystal fountain by, And bathed the warmer portion of my wing. About to move away, I marked a soul Of aged aspect there reclining by, And quietly regarding me. I said : — * Fair paths to thee, O spirit ! Wilt now say THE BOWER OF SOULS. 287 Or who thou wert, or who thou art ? I yearn To know all aught I do not.' * Nay, ' said he ' Let it suffice that well I know the all Thou art, and what thy mission is. Go ye As bidden. I once knew ungrateful Earth And smile ; but smile in sorrow for thy work. How visionary : Dost think that hard world men Will look aside from any old pursuit In curious science, or attractive art ; From lying literature, or gambled gain In traffic ? Tis chimerically absurd ; Impossible. I knew the world of old.' " I said : ' Whoe'er thou art, O spirit dare Not say the mission is ignobly launched Or ill conceived. No rank conceit, nor vain Presumption ; idle vanity nor pride ; Surrounds the mission sent, or sender. Sent All humble I to do the bidding. He The Sender is beyond, or you, or I.' ' It may be that I spoke too rashly ; yet, I knew the world of old. You are but born Of centuries, while I of thousands boast. And who will listen to a boy ?' 288 THE BOWER OF SOULS. ' Nor boy Nor man will ask them ; for it is not I Will tell them hearken ; 'tis but mine to go : And He who sends it, taketh care His own. But why without the realm ?' ' To tell thee sure That thou wilt never reach the world called Earth.' * Or rather that thou hast ne'er reached the realm. But if thou knowest this, why cry aloud Of foolishness and vanity ? If man Is not to hear, why think that he will spurn The hearing ?' ' Said I that he would not hear ? Nay, nay, but thou to Earth wilt never take The mission : for, obedient, humble, fair, As ye may soar; it is a thing, I say That cannot be. No spirit passes hence To Earth. No spirit can. Let science shew Thesin a moment by a trick of squares And algebraic symbols.' 'Hold, enough ' I said, ' I know thee now, I know the why Thou hast not reached the realm. Poor aged soul And scientific unit ! Take my hands.' THE BOWER OF SOULS. 289 " It was the quick electric touch of faith, That moved the dead old soul to life. Old lore Of science filled him ; but no God ; no faith. So much of Nature's law[he knew, that law Of other kind was deemed impossible ; But when the circuit held him, then the spark So fair lit up his soul ; that sweet it were To yet recall his silent look. He flew Away and upward then, and now must live Among the trustful. " Rising now to fall In undulating motion on the air I sped. The higher scenes of beauty left Behind, I found a less enchanting sphere ; Yet solitary held my way. 'Tis sweet To be alone at times. 'Tis then the plan, Design and operation of a thought Is compassed ; smoothed, and put in order clear. Again 'tis good to be alone at times. 'Tis then that self, conceit disrobed, is seen In all its naked platitude. Then can We question it, examine, flatter it ; And e'en condemn unworthy action too. And yet again 'tis ill to be alone. For much of mischief oft comes trailing in The orbit of our wanton star, and drags u 290 THE BOWER OF SOULS. It from its truer course. But come, if hope Can buoy a saint, may it not drown a fiend. Or growing devil ? Yea. His bark is full Of it, so full of dark and hellish hope. At last it sinks the vessel, and he drowns In deepest seas of machinations foul. 'Tis better then to be alone for good. When happy thoughts and sweetest memories Are in ascendancy. 'Tis then we cull The fragrant blossoms of a virtue fair, And bind a sweet bouquet to fondly place In Honour's hand ; or weave a garland bright, Wherewith to crown her brow. Integrity Is nurtured and developed fast in strength. In grand intensity ; and forms a guard And buttress to the tower of human form And manly nature. " To the darker belt On to a darker world, eagerly on I flew. The Power that sent that which was borne. Could well sustain the bearer in what form He wished ; unto a safe aUghting there On Earth. Barely escaping subtle verge And far attraction of yet other suns THE BOWER OF SOULS. 291 Than that of Earth ; anon, I saw the orb That governs o'er a thousand million leagues, And felt its force. Yet kept I seeming straight Towards it, though the knowledge of my way Fore-present hitherto, then left me. On By Neptune passing soon I found my path Was circling fast, while drawing near, its sun, And still far distant light. Past Uranus, And Saturn nearing I was slowly stayed By power occult and firm restraining. He, The aged seer, was right in active truth And deed material, yet dire mistook The motive cause and power that governed. Fast Receding in a parabolic curve I found my orbit winding until drawn From out the old world sphere. Re-traversed all The mazy way I came until within The realm again. 'Twas then I saw the shade Beside me there that had arrested well My work. Recalled, my conscious soul declared That moment, it was done. A while I rest." u — 2 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. It was early in the thirteenth century when Cecilia was the Lady Superior of a Convent, near Fareham, generally called the Moss, where a Knight of the name of Sir Ralph Fitz Maurice placed his beautiful daughter Elsie when he was going abroad ; out of the way of a clerk in orders named Robert de Hemisham, who they say was brother to Walter de Hemisham, of whom history speaks. This Robert had quite worried Sir Ralph in respect of his daughter. His unwelcome and intrusive attentions amounted almost to persecution. When he left his daughter here, it was for her safety and seclusion from him. He said he would soon come again himself for her. Sir Ralph had not been gone many days when Hemisham hearing of her whereabouts, sent two servants on horseback to demand Elsie away in the THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 293 name of her father ; who, they stated, had changed his mind and was coming back, in fact was already near Lewes. The Lady Superior demurred and then refused to give her up, unless they brought some token or letter from Sir Ralph. They went away, and those of the Convent heard no more for some time. At last one day a messenger came with a letter, saying, that in the course of three days a party of horsemen would arrive for Elsie ; that the leader of the troop would show a ring as good earnest, and that they might give her up to them. Well, this was signed by Sir Ralph Fitz Maurice, and sure enough on the evening of the second day, about six or seven men-at-arms rode up. The leader of the troop showed the Lady Superior a ring with Sir Ralph's arms and crest engraved thereon, and demanded Elsie ; saying that when Sir Ralph sent before, he had hastily to go to London, wherefrom he now sent. The ring was shown to Elsie, who declared positively it was her father's ring, and pressed the Lady Superior to allow her to depart, wishing naturally enough to go to her father. Upon this, she permitted Elsie to be escorted away by the horsemen, who had brought a spare palfrey, with rich trappings for her. 294 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. They journeyed by easy stages, and all went well as far as Reigate, where they were stopped by three other horsemen, well armed, who ordered them to deliver up Elsie and depart ; which, much to her surprise they did, and it was only then she began to feel she had been entrapped. One lifted his visor and discovered to Elsie the man her father hated for his wild and dissolute way of life, although a clerk in orders ; and one whom she feared and detested herself. They led her palfrey out of the road to a large old mansion, so secluded as to be almost hidden from view by the thick and varied foliage surrounding it. A place that would be a peaceful retreat for old age or the scholar, but the place also that might answer for many an ill deed. It had a broad front and high wall partly castellated with Norman windows and arches ; a broad flight of steps, which narrowed up almost winding to a doorway at the side. Before they entered the outer gate, however, one of his companions, an honest young esquire and gentleman named Hugh Bohun recognised Elsie, who was loudly entreating Hemisham to take her to her father. " Hold, Robert," cried Hugh. " This fair lady is the daughter of a friend of my father. Is this the lady thou talkedst of, so lightly, to us ? Is this the THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 295 demoiselle thou hast made us laugh over ? Prithee, what dost thou do with this loved, unblemished child of Sir Ralph Fitz Maurice ? " " Oh, help, help me, sir, I pray thee," cried Elsie. '* As thou art an honourable gentleman, take me to my father." " Ah, thou turnest against me, Master Hugh Bohun," cried Robert. " Nay, it is thy jest that is turned against thee," retorted Hugh. " And thou too, traitor, coward. Draw and protect yourself." " I give thee thy words back," returned Hugh. ''Pour Dieu et la verite," he cried, as their swords met. But presently Hugh became hurt in the sword arm. This for a moment confused him in his guard. Robert was about to take advantage of it in his rage, when his other companion, who also perceived it, now for the first time interfered, and peremptorily advised them to separate and go no farther. Hugh turned to ride away, saying, " It shall not be for long. I will be with thee again shortly." Robert laughed in reply, thinking of his triumph and turned to Elsie, who now was weeping. "Why 296 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. doth thou weep fair one ? " said he. " Thou mayst choose thine own time to give me thine hand. I have but taken the precaution to have thee nearer to me that I may better woo thee. Attendants await to conduct thee to thine apart- ments." "Where is my father?" she asked. "How camest thou with his ring ? " " Oh, fair lady, that was but a drollery," he answered, " one that was made like his. I well remember the ring he wore." " And the letter ? " " A counterfeit," he answered with a bow. " Seest thou what love will accomplish at times." " Call ye it love to deceive and decoy a girl from the house in which her father left her for safety ? Wretch, know that I will die ere I look on thee otherwise than as a dog." Here his face changed to that of a fiend, and he would have threatened her. Still, thinking to gain his end afterwards, he only smiled as she walked to her apartments majestically. Robert, then, after giving whispered orders to his menials, rode away with his other companion, intending to remove her again the next day to mislead Hugh. THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 297 Now early in the morning of this same day, as the story hath it, Sir Ralph Fitz Maurice himself rode up to the Convent of the Moss and asked for his daughter. You may imagine the consternation the sisters felt at this demand. At last they told how they had been deceived, and all about the letter and ring. " Did I not say, I would come myself ? " cried he. He stamped and swore, and showed them his ring, saying it was all a foul lie. At last he galloped off, vowing that if he did not find her that day, he would come back, and raze the walls to the ground, an awful sacrilege at that time. He sometimes thought it was a trick to hide his daughter for the cloisters ; though mostly his thoughts went back to Hemisham. Knowing he had a house near Dorking or Reigate, he actually traced them on the road near to those places; when he suddenly lost all clue of them, and turned into Dorking to rest at his friend William de Gretham's house. We must turn back again now to Hugh Bohun, who went away wounded. He, after having his wound properly dressed by a leech hard by, imme- diately sought the leader of the small troop of men who brought Elsie to the place, and who knew nothing yet of his quarrel with Hemisham. 298 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. " Well," said he to the man. " Foundest it an easy matter to do, didst thou not ? " " Yes, truly, but I feel well rid of the charge, and I could wish the pretty lady a better husband." Hugh laughed seemingly to think it was a good joke. " Heyday," continued the man. " It is no affair of mine, and little I know of it, beyond who she is. If it is true what I hear, it will go hard yet with Master Hemisham." " How, what's that ? " asked Hugh. •' Well, I am told by one who knows Sir Ralph, that he was seen hard riding on the road to Dork- ing," said he, thinking that Hugh knew all along who it was he had been sent for. " To Dorking ! " exclaimed Hugh, who whistled to himself, knowing it was his friend Master Gretham, Hugh's cousin, whom he would go to. " Yes, it was Sir Ralph or his ghost," said the fellow. " Holy Mary, preserve us ! " exclaimed Hugh crossing himself. " I thought he was drowned." " And so does Master Hemisham, I believe," answered the man. " I must seek him so I may warn him Sir Ralph is close by." " I will do that ; take no further heed of it." said Hugh. THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 299 " What's that, why wounded, sir?" said the fellow, noticing the dressing of Hugh's arm. Hugh had previously been careful to hide this, but his impulse at the information caused him to discover it, by forgetting for the moment to keep his arm in one position. " Only a dog's bite," answered Hugh, " of little consequence ; I dare say I shall be even with the brute yet. In the meantime here is something to toast thy fellows with." He threw him some gold, adding presently, " Thou needst not say thou hast seen me ; I would have the conceit of this informa- tion myself. Good even." " Good even, and welcome, sir," said the man. " Now for a merry carouse, my mates ; now for a merry carouse." Then Hugh galloped oft, presently turning into the road to Dorking. Now Hemisham, having conceived an idea that he ought to get Elsie out of the way sooner, to avoid whatever Hugh Bohun intended, and maybe he had heard the rumour later about Sir Ralph, thought to remove her that same night instead of the following day. He went to the house for that purpose, calling up an old woman to go and tell Elsie she must ride forth at once. Elsie had retired to rest, however, and was slumbering soundly 300 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. after the trials and fatigues of the day ; doubtless dreaming through her tears of her father and of the one who had tried to protect her. '• What is that ? Who is there ? " she exclaimed in a waking fright at the loud knocking at the room door. " It is I — Janet," cried the old woman. " Master Robert declares ye must ride forth from here this very hour. Will you be rising ? " "Oh ! I cannot go away to-night with him," she cried. "Defy him not. He must go and thou with him," quoth a man's voice, in which she recognised that of Hemisham. " Be at the gate in a quarter-of-an hour or he will fetch thee. Thy palfrey is waiting." " Oh, Heaven protect me 1 " she cried, weeping. Elsie hastily dressed, taking care that her poniard was ready at hand. Yet she did not intend to go down the staircase. Then she knelt down to pray for protection, and while so doing, Bang ! bang ! sounded on the door, now burst open by Hemisham ; who Ufted her up, and carried her down the stairs : weeping all the way and screaming for help. No one appeared- Should she use her poniard ? Could she use it ? THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 3OI C ould she muster courage to stab herself or wound her persecutor ? These were the questions she was hurriedly asking herself. By this time, at the foot of the steps leading to the gravel pathway, the impulse came, in addition to its being easier from her position, to wound him rather than herself, and she quickly drew the dagger and thrust it in his side. A poor thrust at best, yet it caused him to fall, throwing her heavily from him. He cursed and moaned : but presently seemed to recover himself a little. He had risen, when there came dashing up two horsemen. " My child, Elsie, my child," cried Sir Ralph Fitz Maurice, for it was he and Hugh Bohun. Elsie had swooned away and heard nothing. " Dastard ! Villain ! " cried Sir Ralph to Hemi- sham. " Draw for your life. What dost thou with my child ? Draw." Now by this time Hemisham was weak and there was not sufficient light for Sir Ralph to see he was wounded ; which had he seen, might have qualified Sir Ralph's onset ; for even not wounded, Hemisham was never a match for a warrior like Sir Ralph. So it came about that Hemisham was soon dis- 302 THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. abled and received a mortal blow. As he fell he said : " Elsie is not hurt. She is only affrighted." " Come Elsie," said her father to her as she came to her senses, " come, it is thy father; come away from this wolf's den. What ho," called he aloud to the servants who now appeared at hearing so much noise. " Ho there, bring lights, attend, ye miscreants, to thy master — a base dastard who has tried to steal my child. He hath his reward now, and one that is fit for such as he. Come Hugh, come Elsie, away. Hugh I have to thank thee for our being in time to save her." And they rode away back to Dorking, Elsie being a long time under the impression that she had killed Hemisham herself. It was only after a second swoon, at the house at Dorking, that it was explained and she was reassured. Now Sir Ralph having found his daughter that day, felt a kind of compunction for having thought so sacrilegiously about the Moss ; and after some days returned thither with his daughter and Bohun, who now was established in high favour with both the father and daughter. It was by way of penance he made this journey ; although not at all convinced that the sisters were not guilty of a great breach of trust. THE LEGEND OF THE MOSS CHAPEL. 303 As they neared the convent they saw to their astonishment that it was in flames. Upon approach- ing it they found no one was injured, yet, the sisters, one and all, told them, that they had severally dreamed of, or seen a figure, on the same night as the attempt to carry Elsie away was frus- trated by her father, warning them all to prepare for the destruction of their building, which should be seen by Elsie and her father. Sir Ralph wished to build a new chapel, but as Cecilia shortly and unaccountably died of no par- ticular disease that they could discover or under- stand in those days, the church authorities thought the place would never prosper ; so Sir Ralph built one elsewhere, where, the story says, Hugh and Elsie were afterwards united. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8, '58(587684)444 ^:tL__Calow 4409 Agnes PR 4409 Cl9a UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILrTY AA 000 366 982 7 uf-'tCCX-VK.-. • I ill t I -7 ■ "4 ^ i