4759 SCATTERED THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / %/;^-«-^-^^ ^ i 4^r^*-e- ^ 7 7 z^-^^*^*-^ — 4--«^^ ^^c^'^Xj^ A. Ja^. ///^ ' Y^ f^ ^<*^ SCATTERED FLOWERS, COLLECTED BY |n Hlfmorji of OUK LOST ONE. LONDON: Prhifpd h>/ RICHARD I?ARI:i:TT, i:t, .^F A 1! K l.AMv K. C. 18GC. PR NOTE. To the dear friends to whom this little volume is affectionately offered, it may be well to state, by way of ajjology for many imperfections, that nearly all the contributions were penned when the writers were in their teens. $n ilflnnorianu And thou hast left us, — dear one, — ere tlie sun 01' nineteen summers shone aromid thy head ; Thy bright young life, — its story scarce begun, Faded before us, — till we mourned thee — dead. And now, in memory of days gone by. And of the path where once thou hoped to shine, This mingled wreath of love and poesy, — Twined with thy (jwn, — we oiler at tliy ^lirine ; Though small its value be — the wish we know was thine. M. II. WOODHOUSE, lSfi6. CONTENTS. The Rosicrucian Eustace Pafre 1 The Ursuline Recluse Eustace 16 Narcissus Eustace 23 The Death Dream of Mary Hamilton Eustace 26 ^olian Eustace 30 The Deserted Grove Eustace 38 Antiuous Eustace 4U The Frozen Sentinel Eustace 44 The Creation of Man Eustace 47 The Two Queens Eustace 49 The Marriage of the Sea ... Eustace 51 Irene ... ... .. ... Eustace 57 The Pearl Fisher Eustace 58 Dirge Lines Addressed to an lufant Eustace Eva 61 65 Dirge for the Old Year Eva 72 Frederick Von Schlegel Eva 78 The Flowers' Farewell Eva 88 Farewell to Eastwood Eva 102 The Language of Music Eva 107 The Realities of Life Eva 116 Last Hours at Brjonbo Eva 124 ir CONTENTS. Lines on a Pear Tree Lines on the Wreck of the London The Paintings of the Heart ... The Bank of Moss ... The Ideal Lines Addressed to a Young Lady Lines on Professing Christians The Oasis Death The New Year " What BhaU we render ?" " Saviour, to Thee I turn" To my departed Father The Living Water The Sabbath Death The Trials of Life " Oh ! that 1 had wings like a Dove !" Ten Years to Come ... Thy Look of Love Stanzas suggested from " Rob Roy " Stanzas " How oft," &c Leyla ... Page Eva 134 Eva 141 lanthe 74 Ian the 81 lanthe 91 lanthe 96 lanthe 105 lanthe 110 lanthe 137 Agnes 71 Agnes 83 Agnes 98 Agnes 113 Agnes 120 Agnes 133 Agnes 139 Beatrice 68 Beatrice 76 Beatrice 86 Beatrice 95 Beatrice 100 Beatrice 123 Beatrice 128 PART FIRST, THE EOSICRUCIAN. Part I. " Oh ! quench my spirit's tliirst, And grant me knowledge ere I die ; And sliow life's hidden mystery, Or e'er its bubble burst. " Oh ! grant me endless time, And the helm in Eternity's meteor boat, For ever adown Life's stream to float, As God ordained in prime. " Oh ! teach me all mighty lore, And give me the reins of Life and Death, And the key of the portal of human breath, And the genu of each sjjirit's core. " For I fain would walk on the stars of even ; I fain would unbind the cord of life. And strangle the cry of my s])irit's strife. That leapeth aloft to Heaven. THE ROSICRUCIAX. '• Oh ! black is the void behind ; And bhxck is the fiend-cleft S2)ace l)efure, Where the rolling wheels of the Universe roar To the trackless astral wind." Thus spake a Norseman young, As he stood on the crater of Hecla's mount, And gazed adoAvai where the Iturning fount Its pillars of flame up-flung. 'Twas ere the morn arose : — But the fleeting stars had fled from the West, Where the flaming incense of Hecla's crest O'er the aether's argent glows. One star alone remained ; Phosphor, in paling lustre set, — The last gem of night's coronet, When all the rest had waned. Then the bold and i ager knight Lifted his prayer to the morning star : From cloud to cloud it fled afar. Through the dawning's ro.sy light. And soft the answer came, While a column of gold shot dimly down In meteor rays, from the scorcliing crown or the Prince of the Morning Flame. THE ROSICRUCIAN. Across the sky it fled, — Like a parting smile that gilds the mouth Of one who, summoned in early youth, Is claimed Ijy the hoary dead ; Or the haze of purple hrowii, That flits o'er the dead and the dying leaves, Ere the icy touch of the winter breeze Doth bind them firm adowni. Oh ! soft tlie answer came — " I give thee the key of the spirit's strife, And the clue to the labyrinth of life, And the draught of Wisdom's flame. " But one condition mine, — Thou shalt not love with thy mortal heart, Nor rend thy spirit, and yield but part At Wisdom's hallowed shrine. " Thou shalt forswear thy love, — Nor lean on the breast of mortal maid : For all things here as a leaf do fade ; But thou shalt walk above, " And dwell witli llic Son of the Morning .Star, While the countless throngs that round me be, .Shall kneel to thee as they knt-el to me, When I ride in Eternity's car. B 2 THE ROSIcnUCIAN. " But fii'st forswear thy bride ; (live back, give back to tlie maiden fair The golden ring and the golden hair, That trammel thy spirit's pride." The Norseman bowed his head ; For the spirit of Good within his breast Drove back the Evil, that, hotly pressed, To its chaos of demons fled. The Norseman raised his head ; l-'or the spirit of Evil, ten- fold strong, Had burst from its adamantine thong, — And back to its victim sped. Oh ! fiercely the spirits fought : — The demon of Hell, with its blasphemous sword The angel of Good, with its gentlest word, And warning of secret thought. But sharp as a cutting wind, The demon of Evil won the race, — And tore the last shade of his maiden's face From the waverer's fickle mind. Then forth from the roaring chasm Of Hecla's mountain, tliunders brake, — "While the voices of hre, like oracles, spake, 'Mid each volcanic spasm. THE ROSICRUCIAN. With the elemental seal, His oath was graved as he went his way, Awaiting sad for the primal ray- That Wisdom should reveal. He entered the forest, arched With the tangled boughs of Odin's trees, Where no voice spake but the rushing breez Whose glades no sun e'er parched. Their " giant boles " up-sprang, — All gnarled and knotted by surging Time ; No bird did e'er in their branches chime, But fiercely the tempests rang. The Saga's voice was mute, And the Norseman's step in this dim arcade. Was dulled by the groans the hemlock made, As it swimg on its massive root. He passed through the stalwart pines, Aixd came at length to a warrior's tomb. Where a skeleton glistened through the gloom 'Tis the cold Scin Laeca shines. " Now enter thou child of sin ! And drink of the fountain, boiling up Through this rifted skull ; 'tis the primal cuj Ere Wisdom's joys begin." THE ROSICRrCIAX. He drank, — and the fiery vein Of the magic poison seethed him round ; And, foaming, he fell to the bloody ground, Where a hero's corse had lain. Then a calm ecstatic joy, Filled all the void in his raging breast, Unfurling the banner of lore unblest, Enticing him, — to destroy. He rose upright within the tomb, Seeming to ride on the buoyant aii-, While the cold Scin Laeca, shining there, Blue-lighted all the gloom. And the Son of the Morning Star Led his soul from height to height ; away He soared, on the wings of the dawning day, In a trance, — afar, — afar. He learned each deadly biid That draweth death on its dismal track, And the passions of every breast doth rack. And freeze the circling blood. And he saw the spiiits fair. And the spirits tall, and mighty, and dread ; And he called up the souls of the mortal dead, And deciphered the speech of the air. THE ROSICRUCIAN. He talked witli the spirits bold, Who fled from Elohim's mighty sway, And dwell deep hid from the eye of day, And the reins of darkness hold. And now he was as God ; — He knew both good and evil lore, And the keys of Life's and Death's frail door In his darkened breast abode. And all at the price of — What ? At the price of all joy and all earthly bliss, Of maiden's love and of maiden's kiss, This Wisdom he had got ! Oh ! drear was his sliadowy thought, As he left the tomb of the warrior dead ; And heard the boughs moan overhead, Of the mystery he had bought. So he passed through the crashing pines, And back through the forest's tangled way, Till he came once more where the gloAving day DoMTi-flashed o'er the snowj' lines. Down-flashed, — but not on him ; For all was night in his dai'kened breast, Where hell's mandragora lay at rest, And lulled his conscience dim. THE ROSICRUCIAN. Part II. Maid Ella sittetli mournfully ; — The Norland flowers upon her lap Are spotless as the snows that wrap The hills that fringe the sky. Maid Ella waiteth musingly ;^ ►She looketh East, she looketh West, And starteth up in her unrest : A Saga's daughter she. Oh ! a child of the Northern clime ; With an angel's form and an angel's face, And a fleeting step of angel grace, O'er the snow and the crystal rime. But a sadness is in her eye, — Unmeet for the years when maidenhood With the glowing woman mingles blood, And calms her pulses high. Maid Ella's eye doth rove O'er the snowy mountains far away ; While the red blush on her cheek doth play, That tells of an absent love. THE ROSICRUCIAN. The fading buds from lier lap she flung, — " Oh ! why doth he leave me lone, — alone, So oft by this Saga's hoary stone ? My Eric taiTies long ! " Not thus was he wont to do, Till a gloomy fire o'er his spirit came, And haunted his soul wth the mystic flanic Alluring demons tlirew. " I fear, yet I know not wliy ; For my Saga mother, dying, said — ' Fear not, fear not — for thy parent dead Eternally watches nigh ! ' " It is for his soul I fear. Oh ! Eric, lord of my lonely fate, Say, why hast thou fled my sight of late / Would, would that thou wert near ! " Where doth the wanderer stay ? Watch over hini mother, — hold him fast. Lest the fiends may conquer his soul at last. And carry him far astray. '' Oh ! Saga mother fair ; Look down, look down on thy desolate child. And keep me holy and undefiled. Till I full on thy bosom there, — 1(1 THE ROSICRUCIAX. " Where the thunders of Odin for ever ring, And the red wine flows from the skull-cleft bowl, Keep watch, keep watch o'er my tremblinj,' soul. Where nature's fountains spring. " I view thee as thou art ; — || With an oak-crown bound o'er thy shining hair, — And tliine eyes out-flashing into the air The hre of thy glorious heart. " And the light of the samite robe, That falls and rises o'er thy breast, — Like a wave of the sea in wild unrest, On the trackless ocean globe. I o^ <( Oh ! Saga mother dear, Look down, look down on thy helpless child, And keep her spotless and undefiled. And brinir her Eric near." o Scarce were the last words said, When a faltering step came on anear. And a faltering voice said, " He is here For whom thou hast sadly prayed." Then joyfully she rose, And fled to the shelter of his arms ; Gone for the time her wild alarms, Her spirit's darkening woes. THE ROSICRUCIAN. 11 But sadly gleamed Ids eye, And coldly he clasped lier to his breast ; For the words of his covenant darkly pressed Through the shield of her loving sigh. " But first forswear thy bride ; Give back, give back to tliat maiden fair, The ring, and the lock of her golden hair. That trammel thy spirit's pride." He knew that he loved her well ; But the Evil One stilled the voice of his heart, And he deemed it better with her to part, Than with Wisdom's coronal. " Thou shalt forswear thy love, Nor clasp to thy breast a mortal maid. For all things here as a leaf do fade ; But thou shalt walk above." These words in his memory rung, And drove Love's vision far away, As he led her back from the gaze of day, And himself at her feet down-flimg. "»• " I may not wed with thcc, Cold, cold, alas ! is my narrow bed, And the spirits that wander overhead, Tis not for thine eye to see. i'-i THIO ROSICRUCIAN. " No ; I must dwell alone. I have forsworn each earthly thouglit, And w\t]\ that oath have dearly bought What turns my heart to stone. " Farewell, sweet child, farewell ; Shed not one tear o'er my vanished head, But number Eric -with the dead ; My Ella dear, farewell." She comprehended not ; But lifted her moumfxd eye to his. " Alas ! at the price of earthly bliss ]\Iy wisdom I have bought." She spake, — " What meanest thou, My Eric ? Sad as the gloomy night. Thy face seems altered in my sight, And darkened all thj brow. " What means thy faltering speech, And the look of silent agony That dwells in the depth of thy shining eye .' What do these ravings teach ? I -'o'-' " Not wed thee ? If I thouglit That came across thy noble mind, Here, 'neath the blast of the angry wind, I'd let my heart's blood out ; THE ROSICRUCIAN. 13 " And fall before thee dead, As the mass of granite qiiick dowTi-fell, That standeth above the raging well, Where the Saga's hymns are read. " Not wed thee ? Could that be ? My soul says ' No," from its depth of love, Whence the wings of my passion rise above. And float on the aether free. " Not wed thee ? Thou art all That maketh this cold world dear to me, And e'er should I languish without thee. In Death's cold grasp should fall." He spake again, — " Alas ! Thou wilt not comprehend my words ; And must / sever thy bosom's cords, And let thy soul out-pass ? " Thou lovest — woe is me ! And I am unworthy of that love ; Oh ! none but a radiant saint above [s worthy thy spirit free. *' Forgive me, oh, forgive ! ] have sworn an oath to the powers of Hell, I liave sworn to drink not of Love's well, I have sworn alone to live. 14 THE R03ICRUCIAN. " Alas ! I was but man ; And I longed to grasp the unknovn, unseen — But now I am lost to all, I ween, — A ROSICRLX'IAN !" Slie turned on him in scorn ; " Go, reprobate degraded wretch ! Though the effort each drop of my life-blood fVtcli, From my breast be thy image toni ! I would have died for thee ; And thou hast bartered thy soul to Hell, And left the bride of tliy youtli as well ; This — this thou hast done for me. Back, wretch, to thy lake of lire. And gloat o'er the power of thy demon charms ! Xow, Saga Mother, ope thine arms. Receive me, — I expire." Oh ! mute she pressed the snows ; And the dying streak on her paling cheek Shed o'er their breast a halo meek. As u])ward her spirit goes. Then Eric sadly strove \ To raise in his arms the lifeless maid ; But a voice cume borne on the winds tliat said, " Lo ! all things here as a leaf dn fade. But thou shalt walk above." THE ROSICRUCIAN. If) In the eve he dug a grave, And hiu-ied her deep in the Listing snow ; Snow all around, above, below, Where no wild breezes rave. Snow-cold, in her snow-white shroud, Slie lay like a statue in snowy rest, Pure as the snows that wrapped her breast, In her snow-clad beauty proud. " Farewell, farewell," — he said, liest on, sweet child, in thine endless sleep, More fair than the snows that o'er thee weej). When the rolling storm-clouds downward sweep ; All here as a leaf doth fade ! " EUSTACK. le THE UESULINE KECLUSE. The Convent bell has rung, And the sisters kneel in prayer, While I sink down in my cell alone High up by the winding stair. They say that sleep is sweeter far Than the softest perfumes be ; Yet years have flown since sleep came down On its balmy wings to me. No living voice has greeted me For twice five years to-day ; No hiunan heart has pitied me, Tlio' grief has turned me grey. I pray alone, — I dwell alone. Till Death shall claim me for his own ; And if that prayer for sin atone, Then mine is washed away. Oh ! days of youth gone by, Methinks I am AV'ith you now ! Ah ! once again I am fair Helene With the clear, smooth marble brow ; Once more my eyes are bright as stars, My smile as the rippling wave ; Again I rove through the myrtle grove ; Again — but hush ! I rave. THE URSULINE RECLUSE. 17 My father's castle tower Looked down o'er the glittering sea, And there he built me a fairy bower Mid lemon and myrtle tree ; And hour Ijy hour I sat and dreamed Alone on the steep cliff side, When sunset ov^er the mountains streamed, And later still, when the moonlight gleamed O'er all Sorrento's pride. The fire-flies glanced around my bi-ow As I sat in the moonlight grey ; The pale moths hummed in the orange trees. And music came on the fragrant !)reeze, Till night seemed turned to day : And thus in glories like to these My girlhood passed away. There came a knight to oTir castle tower, And a snow-white plume had he ; Into my bower he threw a flower, But what was that to me ? 1 could not love this man of gloom, With the frowning brow, and the snow-wliite plume ; For " love dwells with the free I'' My father was a hard, stern man, Though he loved me deep and well ; The knight had wealth in distant lands, And my father felt its spell. I' I'S THE URSULINE RECLUSE. He gave me to the dark -browed knight, And in the chapel our trotli was jilight, While the bell tolled under the taper's liglit- Telling the hour of the dark midnight — Alas ! my I'unei-al knell ! Could I have seen in a mystic glass The future yet to be, I had never, never given my hand To Tancred of the bloody brand — Ah ! no — thrice woe to me ! Rather than leave my home his bride I had cast my hojaes of heaven aside, And springing wide from the steep cliff sid( Had died — in the foaming sea. But no ! the hour of misery As yet was far away ; He took my hand in his iron palm As the boat flew over the waters calm, In the dawn of tlie summer's day. 1 could not love this warrior bold, For love comes not at will ; And under the shade of the myrtle tree I had dreamed of a stripling fair to see, Who sank low down on his bended knee, And sighed my own sighs back to me, — Methiuks I hear them still. THE URSULIXE RECLUSE. 19 And lo ! it came at last, — The dream I had dreamed so long : My soul flew back to the mighty past (^n the wings of memory, sweeping fast Tlirough tlie pauses of Love's trumpet blast, Thro' the notes of the minstrel's song. He never spake as others oft With flattery bold had done ; But his words were gentle, his voice was soft, His smile like the summer sun : His soul rose upward to his eye, As often as my form drew nigh ; How soft and sad the tender sigh That echoed back my own ! 'Twas night — a glorious night — With silvery stars on high ; Tlie glowing moon, and fire-flies bright, Flashed dowaiward in a stream of liyht. As Conrad's step drew nigh. Thou pale, pale moon, pale hnver yet — Stars, hide your glorious sheen — Ve tii'e-flies hear and disappear — Amid the mvrtles green ! Was our Virgin Queen in Heaven tliut night Looking down from the moonlit zone I A power to shield a wandering light ! A mothei' to save her own ! c -J 20 THE URSULINE RECLUSE. They say it thundered loud and far — I heard it not in my spirit's war — For I stood with him — alone ! Sweet mother ! didst thou sleep that night And heardest not my prayer, That veiled in night, my spirit might Ascend the golden stair ? Ascend to thee from out his arms — Float \ipward from his breast — Where memory eternally. Should hold my image pressed ? A moment, and no more. My spirit thought of prayer — My lips could form no syllable, I was as one beneath a spell — My only God was there ! A shadow moved beneath the trees — Along the moonlit ground ; The dark stone-pines waved in the breeze Shading the grove around. Then I heard my husband's stately tread - I knew the Avenger came. And I started up in mortal dread As he thundered forth my name. Small space — small need for words — The knife was sharper far ; And deep it sank in Conrad's breast. My love, my life, my star ! THE URSULINE RECLUSE. 21 And Tancred of the bloody brand Towered over me with crimson hand, And dripping .scimitar ! " And thoii," he cried, "behold, And glory m thy power ; For love of thee two warriors bold Shall sleep this even pale and cold, Their blood shall be the dower Thy latest lover thou shalt bring ; Go lady, and go triumphing !" Then in the deepening midnight gloom He seized the smoking blade, All crimson with the fearful blow On Conrad's breast it made. And looking upward to the sky He plunged it in his own. Then sighing sadly, — heavily — I knew the work was done ; His corse fell forward at my foot — The two fond lovers both lay mute — And I was left — alone. Bathed in a molten glory Of midnight stars and moon. They lay there cold before me, Crimson their grassy tomb. Silence, thou rippling river ! Silence, thou moaning pine ! My day is dark for ever — Henceforth the night is mine ! 22 TUE URSULINE RECLUSE. Calm bj^ tlie rippling river Where the pine trees moan,* Left I tliein for ever, Cold as coldest stone. Under the ghostly moonshine, Under the pine trees roar. Never to feel the sunshine, Never any more ! 1 wandered all that drearj' night O'er forest, dale, and hill ; AVhile mocking me with lambent light The stars shone Ideak and chill. I dared not think, I dared not pray, Lest the demon feet should spurn away The soul they coidd not kill. I know they mocked mj- hapless woe And laughed in demon glee. As my thoughts flew up the stairs of Heaven, High up — to the jasper sea ; And I saw a group stand round the Throne, And each one sighed beneath his crown, And then they glanced to earth adown. And seemed to weep for me ! I know no more — for the gates of Heaven Clanged loudly over the unforgiven ; And here I dwell alone, un shriven. Till Death shall set me free ! Nafles, ISGJf. Eustace. * Where tie long reeds quiver, Where the pines make moan , &c. — Mrs. Hemans. NARCISSUS. SUGGESTED BY A STATUE IN THE VATICAN. The winds are rushing sadly throngli tlif pines And olives, through the oak and through the thorn The moon in silver silence lights the stream, And skunbers in its depth of hazy gloom. Her argent glory, flickering o'er my hroAv And bosom, sends a chill tlirough all this franv That lies reflected in the gleaming pool For ever— clear and calm for evermore. 1 gaze down sadly from the daffodils And dark green rushes at my image, there For ever mirrored both by day and night, — In light and darkness, — twilight hour or dawn,— Xnnndav or midnight. *^o Ever, ever there, A fair round form before me sleeps and sleeps In elitterinET silence. 'Tis mine own — mine own '. The roses cast no bloom ujion the cheeks. The daffodils shine not around the brow. Nor doth the lotus light those liquid ej^es, Nor any living hue suft'use the flesh That bloomed so roseate once. My image lies (!alm as a statue, white as marble, cold As frozen snow, within the river's gloom. Where no voice ever comes — no human voice, Nor eye, nor hand, save mine. 24 NARCISSUS. Here cold I gaze, Chained liy my own mad folly, — lone, fust-boiind To mine oyni image in the glassy mere. Cursed for ever be that even-tide, When, fleeing Echo's voice, I crouched amidst The daffodils beside the star-lit stream ; And, seeing mine own likeness in the wave. Stood gazing silently, and dared not move, So glorious seemed the shadow of this form. And thus I stand and gaze for evermore ; The solemn silence round me passes not AAvay, — but seems to grow in depth and length Of stillness, as the seasons come and go. No sound breaks in upon the eternal peace, No ripple shakes the river's sullen gloom. No voice of bird makes glad the air around, No bee hums o'er the lilies. All is still And lone, and sad as death, and still I gaze ! Mine own eye never moves, but motionless Pierces the water, traverses the depth Of hazy sapphire where my image lies, Fast bound by chains invisible ; my hand Stirs not to scare away the butterfly, Whose golden crimson rests u])on my brow In floods of sunshine ; nor to wring the dew That gathers coldly in my flowing harr At midnight, nor to shield my burning brain From blaze of lightning, or from glare of sun. NARCISSUS. 2.) The beast within the forest dies ; the bird Upon the mountain ; fish within the sea, All things alive, in field, or flood, or fell, Eetum to earth rejoicing. Why not I I Alas ! here motionless, enchained by pride. Enduring silence — solemn agony Of never-ending stiffness — cold and drear. For ever gazing on that beauty, prized So highly once, — now loathsome to mine eye. And heart, and soul. I, Narcisse, meet my doom. Lapped in the daffodils, yet sharing not Tlie sweet nepenthe of the Elysian fields, That wafts the immortal to the land of dreams, And hushes Heaven to sleep. If I could m;ir The form imperial that the Gods bestowed. And rend these limbs apart, or tear the flesh From off" the quivering muscles, or deface This countenance that once I deemed so fair, — Gladly I'd throw this beauty to the winds. And thus redeem my crown of amaranth. My starry sceptre and Elysian dreams ; And, falling in the arms of j\Iother Earth, Among tlie l)]ooniiiig lilii-s sink to sleep, — Still silence round me but for Echo's voice. All mournful, singing dirges evermore. EUSTACK. Ri)ine, I864. 2() THE DEATH-DREA?^! OF xAIARY HAMILTON. The end is near. I Lear the echoing fall Of angel footsteps round me as I lie, Drear in the hours between the vesjier call And midnii^ht. Ah, how oft I prayed to die, N ot knowing Him whose love is all in all. Yet am I ready. Bear me from my cell— And lay me down beneath the shadowy trees — Still AV'itliin hearing of the chiming bell ; For I would feel once more the passing breeze, And hear tlie tale the quivering aspens tell. I weary of the dark conventual gloom Of sacred shrine and imaged saint on high. And colours streaming down o'er marble tomb, Thro' crimson casement whose rich tintings vie In crowning martjTS — fresh from awful doom. Carry me do^vn beside the winding stream Where once a sudden glory wTapped me round, And mute I listened in a rapturous dream To words that left me there, a maid — si)ell-bound, Unwitting then how fair the false can seem. I THE DEATH-DREAM OF MARY HAMILTON. '2 i But oh ! he was not Mse ; liis soul was Ligh, And full of lofty asj)irations. None Dare tlius accuse him ; how much less, then, I Who oA^ned him lord and life, and star and sun, And deemed I talked with God when he was niyh. They buried him at dawning bleak and cold, Laid him to sleep beneath the mountain pine ; The soft snow wa-apped him in its ' ermine fold,' The eagle shrieked his death dirge,— ah, and mine ; Tlie clouds of destiny o'er both had rolled. I watched and waited all that dreary night Alone and speechless, — racked by grief and woe ; While pacing on and on, through heaven so bright. The silver moon all silently did go. But I paced up and down the mountain's height ; And stood afar, when rosy shadows spread Above a fimeral cortege drawing nigh ; Then to the dust I bowed my acliing head, And prayed — how wildly — that I too might lie ( 'old in the shadow of the silent dead. That prayer is granted. Ere the midnight star Ilath climbed the silver firmament, my soul Shall seek admission at the crystal bar ; And while the clouds of glory round me roll. My opening eyes shaU know what angels arc. 28 THE DEATH-DREAM OF MARY HAMILTON. Then carry me once more beneath the trees 1 Where the rank grasses tall and wildly wave, And murmuring gales play gently with them there, Above the fated poet's nameless grave. I fain would view that grave, and feel that breeze, — And meet my doom where he lies pale and cold ; So that the angel, when his trumpet sound, May find us both together, and imfold His banner over us ; so all around ■ Mav know that woman's love can ne'er grow old. o^ The clouds depart, — my soul is lighter,— lo ! A shadowy glory falls athwart the wave, Where diamonds ripple onward, — sad and slow, — Ar(jund the grass that shades the poet's grave. The sun is sinking. Thus earth's visions go. And come before me mirrored as in glass ; The tournament— the feast — the regal tlrrone — The thundering music — and the glittering mass Of nobles round. Ah me ! all — all is done ! Love, hope, joy, sorrow — all with life outpass, Unmoumed — unmourning. Hark ! the solemn prayer Invites my longing sjiirit to depart From all earth's fantasies, and meet him — there, Where none shall pass between me and his heart. The silver moonlight steals adown the stair, THE DEATH-DREAM OF MARV HAMILTON. 1 Through gorgeous casements where rich colours tell Of saint and martyr. There doth Mary stand — The child-Christ on her bosom ; — there as well, The crowned seraphs, and the flaming brand Waves in the air, — the Archangel Rajihael. F'arewell, soft moonshine. Never — never more — (Unless on silent effigy of stone) Shalt thou above my shadowy tresses jioui'. Or charm my spirit — jjraj'ing here — alone ; (JrowTiing my brow with light, and passing o'er. Fainter and fainter grows the echoing hvmn, And I die with it. Further — further still. Its notes recede — till up in heaven they seem Lost mid the thousand harps on Sion's hill. — My God, I come ! Thus ends my earthly dream. Eustace. 30 i ^OLIAN. ^ My soul is troubled — it may not rc^t, Ever I roam by grief opprest, White is ike shxoud that wraps my breust, Yet La the grave I find no rest. I wander on — for ever on — Deatli-cold, pale and woe-begone. Other forms may softly rest, But in the grave for me is none. jEoUan ! ^Eolian ! Born of the old Etruscan race, Regal blood was in my form, Regal beauty in my face, Regal vengeance in my arm. Now, wUd beasts alone should gaze On my white, sin-stricken face ; Never shall I find a place Within the fair celestial space. ^olian ! iEolian ! Had 1 known what now I know, What it is from life to go. And from glorious earth to be Hurled into Eternity ; Had 1 gazed behind the veil, I had trembled and turned pale. And escaped the serpent's trail, Everlasting woe and waU. yEolian ! -Eolian ! ^OLIAN. ^olian ! ^Eolian ! How fair the name — how false the man ! I loved him only as daughters can Of the ancient race Etrurian. Woe to him, and woe to me ! Woe to our earth-freed spirits be ! Let him sigh through Eternity, For the years of sigliing he brought to me. .Eolian ! ..Eolian ! I sut beneath an orange tree, Building castles in the air ; The yellow fruit hung over me. And the yellow branches fanned my liaii' ; Odours of mp'tle faint yet deep, Hushed my soul to a gentle sleep ; I watched the flowers and the timid sheep, And a knight who climbed the hill-side steep ; /Eolian ! ^Eolian ! And at my side a warrior knelt. His liery gaze was all I felt ; His raven locks half touched my cluck I sat spell-bound, I could not speak. Flaming eyes and cheeks of ilamc, Kisses of hre that scorclied my brow Wild he called upon my name, With fondest oath and wildest vow, Jioliau ! .lEolian ! 32 /KOLIAX. The day seemed darker as he went, The very sun shone cokl and dim ; The perfume of the flowers was spent, And daylight fled away with him ! The moon rose up, bright, round, and full, But seemed no longer beautiful. The golden stars, so high, so fair, Shone baleful in the fleecy air. ^Eolian ! iEolian I The warrior never came again, False tongiie, false heart, and falser man ; And on my soiil was an endless stain, jEolian ! iEolian ! But never more with eye of flame And burning kiss the warrior came ; Though evermore I wept the same. And ever thought " My shame, my shame I" iEolian ! Jiolian ! Shrieking, moaning, all the night. Moaning, shrieking, all the morn, I watched alone on the moimtain's height Lying there — forlorn — forlorn ! Watching, waiting, early, late, — I proved his falsehood day by day ; I struggled not against my fate, But my good angel fled away. iEolian ! iEolian I iEOLIAN. 33 I hunted liim, as a lioness Hunts her weak and timid prey ; On and on in my distress, I followed hijn for leagues away. My weary footfall heavily Trod down the sunbeams in the gi'ass, My weary soul sighed ferv^ently, Watching each moon-lit evening pass, ^olian ! uEolian ! And when the sunset streamed on high, O'er rippling wave and lonely fell. There rose iip mocking to the sky The clear sad voice of convent bell. " Child of Earth," it seemed to say, " All things here shall pass away — Earth and Heaven, wind and wave ; — In the twinkling of an eye Time becomes Eternity ; Here no rest but in the grave." yEolian ! J^olian ! To Heaven my tearless eyes I turned, When red star-watchfires dimly bmiied, And seemed to mock my agony ; Oh ! that I like them could be ! Cold and bleak and hard as stone ; They are hard, they never moan. When all earth-bom children groan ; In the high heavens they sit alone, Each on his pinnacled flaming throne. yEoUan ! iEolian ! I) ;U iEOLIAN. I traced the false one on and on, Day by day I drew more near, At last the victory was won. And a voice said, " Behold him here ! " I found him in Ferrara's walls, And then my heart stood still with wot', For another dwelt in his " marble halls," A lady, fair as fairest snow. J^lolian ! ^Eolian ! False ! false ! Traitor pale, Cov\'or before ni}' spirit's Avail. Let this heart which broke for thee. Witness my soul's agony. All that day I waited lone, Dared not think, and dared not pray ; Cold my hand as the mountain stone — Dire my thought as the wdd sea spray. iEolian ! ^olian ! Dagger in hand, and hate in heart, — Armed with vengeance dark and deep — I fled along with Azrael's dart. When all the town was hushed in sleep I passed by many a stately door, — Fled, and looked not back again ; The Angel of Death was passing o'er, — But one alone he simimoned then ; ^Eolian I .i-Eolian ! .^OLIAJT. 35 On through stately corridor, — Over mosaic and marble Hoor ; Past the statues gleaming hoar, As a flood of moonlight -washed them o'er, — On I fled to a silent room Where the misty moonbeam lit the gloom, And the cold white stars kejtt watch on high, Growing red as my steps drew nigh : ^olian ! ^olian ! I kissed him softly in his sleep, — Lapped in dreamland far away ; Moonbeams through the casement peep That soon shall rest on his pallid cluy. Heaving breast and quiet eyes ! Sleeping smile and marble brow ! Never more shall that warrior rise, — Earth and Heaven had heard my vow. iEolian ! ^Eolian ! Life is ending, death beginning, Human soul that sleepest on. In the last race. Death is winning. Life is weeping — overthrown. Proud one, Death is at thy gate;, Take the crown from ofl' thy brow ; Would'st thou live ? Too late ! Too late ! At thy threshold waits he now. ^olian ! .Eoliau ! D :.' 36 iEOLIAN. Awake ! Lut on tliis earth — no more ; Awaken at the trumpet's sound, When thou shalt land on another shore ; — Till then — sleep on in the hiunid ground. Sleep— as sleep the simiers — cold, With piles of tmf above thee rolled, And glories that thou canst not hold, Passing above thee, manifold. Sleep on — sleep on, iEolian. He lay before me — dead at last — Great white limbs as marble cold. Crimson streams fiom his bosom passed Over his garments' silken fold. Still white limbs, and proud white face, -^ These w^ere all that met my gaze ; But I fled like fire from the awful place. Away — far out in the starry space, Wliile he slept on — iEolian ! They tied me to the burning stake, Angry flames leaped up on high. Swathed me round in molten lake. And then I knew what 'twas to die ! Yet from my lips escaped no moan, Though I knew that life at last was done ; While low in his home 'neath shade and sun, The warrior-prince slept on and on ; iEolian ! iEolian ! iEOIilAN. And in that awful dying hour, When thousands gathered round to see, — I felt within, tlie solemn power To read Creation's mystery ; And nearer to the unveiled truth In that last hoiir of life discrowned ; I scanned the shades of life and death, The human mystery profound ; ^Eolian ! ^olian ! And shadowed forth as in a glass I saw the rolling ages pass. And kingly cro^vn and diadem Were lost to earth, and earth to them. And time fled on — immortal sea. That falls into Eternity ; — And wrecked were days, and months and years, And human hopes and human fears ; But in my breast one voice spake on, iEolian ! J^^olian ! Eustace. JFoodhouse, 1863. 38 THE DESERTED GEOVE. (Villa d'Este.) Calm, in an orange grove, lit up by the quivering moon- beam, Stand in a circle of fiov.ers, twelve mystic statues colossal. There like the gods of Oh'minis, calm and erect and majestic, Clear-cut in marble, and chiselled, and sculptured, in might and in grandeur ; Gazing ado^\^l on the scene immovable — rigid — regard- less — Calm in their marble repose — majestic and cold in their silence. Ever they sleep — snow-white— stiff — moulded in mani- fold grandeur. There frowns Jove ; and Apollo clasps lightly the lyre on his bosom ; High o'er the wave of the sea, her white arm lifts Aphrodite, Shrieking and shrieking in vain, " Ai ! Ai !" to the glorious billows ; — There Saturnius and Juno keep vigils in marble, des- pairing ; THE DESERTED GROVE. 3\) Bacchus, and Pallas, and Mars, and Hermes, and Phito, and Vesta, Gazing adown cold, cold ; and Ceres the number com- pleteth.. Ever they sleep, snow-white, festooned by the glittering flowerets ; Roses, and jasmine, and myrtle kiss soflly the limbs of the heroes, Shaded on high by the crimson convolvulus, lily, and dew-bell, Casting a flush o'er the rounded limbs and the coloiu'less faces, Either in sunshine or moonshine ; and oranges falling around them ; — Weirdly the oleander su]iporteth these giants of marble Bright with its scarlet twining ; and so they grow old in their silence. Eustace. Romfl, I8G4. 40 ANTINOUS. (a dream of Hadrian's villa.) The azure heavens were pi;rpling into night, With crimson glories flashing up the sky, And falling lurid o'er the still blank wave, Where all were gazing. Calm the river lay, Hushed into silence lest its voice should wake The soft sleep of the lilies : in its depth, Mirrored in silver, shone the evening star. But over all the scene was thrown a cloud Of doul)t and consternation ; for they saw Shining among the t|iuvering scarlet blooms A form — a human form ; then staring eyes Looked forth on blanching cheeks, and many a heart Stood still \(iih trembling fear. o " How came it there ?" "Whose form, whose features?" "Nay, perchance he sleej^s." " This is not Death, — the rounded limbs are white And almost warm ; the rose is not yet fled From off that domiy cheek." " The lips, the eye ANTINOUS. 41 Are scarce less life-like, and the sunbeam falls As ever on the midnight of his hair." " He wUl awake." " He sleeps, he surely sleeps." " So soundly — ah, so soundly ! " Then they drew The fair, white human form from out the wave, Across the blossoms to the nearest bank ; And ere tliey had laid it on the soft green earth Beneath the palm trees, every voice brake forth In one loud wailing — " Ah ! Antinoe !" One crimson ray fell o'er him from the W est, As flickering in its radiance sank the sun Behind the pabn trees ; in the stagnant wave Arose a murmur as of strife below, That earth should steal its prey. — Alas ! alas ! Earth — Mother Earth — but claimed the human clay. The soul was drifting through those crimson clouds, Or falling down the darkness ; or, perchance, Was motionless, as if it ne'er had been. The priests of Isis came and wrapped him round With rites mysterious, but he heard them not. Pale Nubian maidens, lotus-crowned and tall. With scared black irids came and looked at him In silent awe, — while others wrung their hands, Rose-steeped in attar, o'er the unconscious form, And cried out in one voice of bitter wail, " Antinoe !" till all the desert rang With that one mournful name, while Egypt wept. 42 ANTINODS. Then flashing do^v^l the river, swiftly came Jit A gorgeous pageant at that solemn sound, — I 'Twas Hadrian's galley. There tlie Emperor sat 1 But missed his Nubian favourite from his side, And wondered. Clothed in scarlet were they all. With jewels on their robes, and flowei-y crowns Around their long bright perfumed locks ; the light From out the West blazing o'er gold and gem, Till all the galley seemed a mass of flame And glory. But Antinous ! Where was lie ? Warriors were sighing, women shedding tears, Priests muttering, maidens w^ailing, o'er him now. Imperial Hadrian caught that bitter wail, — And as the trumpet's war-note strikes a chill To many a heart of mother, — ay, and wife, — So on the Emperor's soul that message fell. And leaping to the stream, he climbed the bank, And fled along in maddening rage and fear. To that far group, where terror-stricken maids, And priests and warriors stood. One glance told all. As each made way in wonderment, and gazed After the faltering monarch as he ran. Then falling o'er the youth he wept aloud, And cursed the river, — ay, and cursed the gods, — And all things human and di\-iue ; and laid His hand upon the Nubian's heart, — and called And wept again ; but never ansAver came. ANTINOUS. 43 Then laid they him to sleep in gorgeous pomp, "With clash of arms amid the city's roar, Beneath a gilded roof, be-gemmed and girt With dazzling ornament ; upon his l^row A crown of scarlet lilies ; round Iris form Imperial robes of light with belt of gold, And armlets all ablaze with jewelled gleam ; And on his finger Hadrian's signet ring. Sadly the monarch took him in his arms. And laid him in the tomb, — while all stood round In mournful phalanx ; then they threw far down Upon him lotus blooms and amaranth ; And softly closed the four walls of his home^ While underneath the banners Hadrian stood ; And clear and calm the Imperial dreamei-'s voice Went up through silence to the winds of Heaven. And Hadrian said,—" He sleeps not as they sleep Who pass their years in idleness, and strife, And folly ; he shall wake — shall live again ; And I shall see him, lohere I know not, — how I guess not, — ichy I dare not think, — nor ^vhen. But this I know,— that something from that clay Has parted, — that now sliines far off and dim, Yet ever gTowing brighter and more bright ; In grades of glorj', as that silver star Grew brighter in the stagnant river-gloom ; And that same light I shall hereafter meet In other skies, when I too shall have gone Beyond the sunset. AVe shall meet again ! Eustace. Rome, IS64. 44 THE FROZEN^ SENTINEL. I i (Suggested hy an occurrence ivhich took place at Rome in the Winter of 18G3.) At the midniglit lioiir pale moonbeams pour O'er tlie ancient hall of the Senator, ■ And its fountain's frozen sea ; And crystals lioar shine on the door, Then splash down softly on the floor Where the frozen snow-flakes be. Up and down, and on and on, The sentinel paces 'neath the moon And stars of the Roman sky. " My weary vigU will end fuU soon." He sits him down on an antique stone, And looks at the stars on high. Is it a dream that holds him there With eyes enchained to the upjier air. Where nought but the pale stars be ? His head sinks down in his frozen hand. Perchance he thinks of his fatherland, While the statues grand in the moonlight stand, Around the fountain's sea. THE FROZEN SENTINEL. 45 And now he thinks on his distant home, While the shades of dreamland round him conic, He hears anon the rolling drum That called him thence awaj^ ; And now he starts at the moaniiiij breeze That flits tlirough his native forest trees, And now he sees, on her bended knees. His well-loved mother pray. His calm white face on his breast sinks do■H^l, — No more he heeds the statues' frowTi ; — Shmiber is on him, — sleep is npon him, Under the shade of the pillars brown ; A stalwart column stands o'er him, solemn, Stern, unbending as the will, Xow forcing sleep to his eyes to creep. Slumber lasting — strong and deep — That must its \dctim kill. One more dream to his fancy flies — A fairy vision of laughing eyes, And sunny golden hair ; Cheeks that blushed when his voice was hushed, And the hours of another midnight rushed. Swift-footed through the air. This, oh this is a dream of bliss, — Sad was the maiden's farewell kiss. And the tear in her bright lihie eye. But a colder kiss doth greet him now, The midnight snow falls on his brow. As the Angel of death draws nigh. •16 THE FROZEN SENTINEL. Sunk on his breast his head doth rest, Dreaiuinjf the dream he loves the best. Watcliiiig hull, solemn. The stalwart column Holds him fast to its granite breast. And lo ! through the path of the moon-lit gloom, Over the snow does Azrael come. To call the sentinel's spirit home ; " Away ! Away ! Away ! " A.nd the ghastly moonshine wraps a shroud Around the form of the soldier proud. And the wind moans loud o'er his visage bowed. Sweeping the pall of a dark storm-cloud Above his frozen clay. There in his place, with proud, calm face. They found the sentinel, when the rays Of the sun fell o'er the snow ; But still and cold, as the statues old Of furious steeds, and riders Ijold, That guard the halls of the Capitol, Was the heart that lay below. Eustace. Rome, 186 4. 47 THE CREATION OF MAN. (Suggested by Michael Angela's fresco on the roof of the Sistine Cluqjel at Rome.) The earth lay wTapped in folds of pearly mist, And shrouded with the purple hues of even, Vast in its equipoise, — a rolling sphere. And silence reigned tlu-oughout the universe Of starry systems opening one by one From oiit the radiance of illumined skies, That guard with solemn light Jehovah's Throne. But lo ! a gorgeous vision bathes the West, Wrapped in the splendours of the setting sun, And crowned with aAvful glory ; — half in light Sliines forth, — and half lies hid in crimson shade. Whence mellowing utf in roV)es of azure hue, The floating pinions rise, and fall and rise, Beneath the veil that shrouds the Almighty Form. And hovering do^\^lA\•ard o'er the verdant earth. Still, — silent as the aether up on high, The Lord cast off his veil and smote the ground ; Then from the dust arose a shape of light, Fair — glorious — perfect — the true image of The Eternal Fatlier,— and He called it Man. 48 THE CREATION OF MAN. Fair limbs from out the dust he fasliioned, Clotliing them with celestial flesh and blood, And joints and sinews each in right degree, And form and features glorious as his own. And when the work was finished, then He breathed The breath of Life within the noble frame. And slow receding through the purple clouds. Veiled in a crimson shadow, — drew his hand O'er all the form in benediction calm, From head to foot, — till lingeringly He touched The last white finger, — and so passed awaj'. ^ Eustace. Rome, IS64. \ 49 THE TWO QUEENS. The deatli-chant is singing— tlie joy-bells are ringing,- The one for a victim,— the otlier a queen : Jane Sejinour impatient awaits coronation, — And low in a dungeon lies — Anna Bolejm. The one rises lightly, and gaily and brightly, And draws out the pearls through the waves of her hair ; The other wild presses her hand to her tresses, And feels for a crown that, alas ! is not there. One views in the distance a rosy existence, Where sunshine shall flicker, and floVrs ever grow The other cries scornfully, calmly, yet mournfully — " Vanity— vanity all things below !" The joy-bells are ringing— the death-chant is singing- Come forth to the altar ! Come forth to the tomb ! The Bridegroom is laughing— the headsman is quaffing : The Bride waits her triumph— the Victim her doom. E 50 THE TWO QUEENS. The death-chant is singing — the joy -bells are ringing ; The one o'er a corse, and the other — a bride ; The one queen is sleeping, — the other is keeping Bright watch with the bridegroom who kneels at her side. But high up in Heaven, where sin is forgiven, The souls of the martyrs claim Amia Boleyn : And tlowers ever vernal, and glories eternal Surround the white soul of the sanctified queen. Eustace. I I 51 THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. (a legend of adria.) The Doge lie leant liim o'er the prow, And a scornful laugh laughed he ; " Receive, receive thy marriage ring, Thou opal Adrian Sea ! " The barge was decked vriih. gold and white, And sailed beneath the sun ; Warriors brave and ladies bright Upon its deck sat down. Oh ! bursts of echoing music came O'er the waters rolling far, As the barge sped on like the sun's red flame When it kiadles the evening star. 'o And peals of mocking laughter flew From the breasts of that companie ; One maid alone sat woe-begone At the Marriage of the Sea. e2 52 THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. She gazed at the Doge right earnestly, Then sadly turned aside, And the wavelets dranlc up eagerly The tears she strove to hide. " 'Twas with that ring he pledged his love And plighted troth to me ; In vain with my raging breast I strove, — I vowed his love to be. " I loved him deep — I loved him long. With a maiden's mighty will ; 1 loved him wdld — I loved him strong, And oh ! I love him still ! " I gave to him that sapphire ring When he gave his love to me, — To me no more his heart 'twill bring, It lies In the deej) blue sea. " When first I laid it in his hand, He low at my feet kuelt down ; Now the roaring brine will sweep its sand Around that sapphire stone. " Alas ! 'twill shine on his hand no more Where erst it lustre gave ; A priceless gem on a golden shore 'Twill lie neath a sapphire wave. THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. 53 " But not for that doth my spirit grieve ; 'Tis not for that — ah, no ! I mourn that his love so brief should li\'e — I mourn for my endless woe. " Ye men, your hearts are as adamant When your fleeting love is gone. Nought rests for me save the restless sea. Or the convent's cloister lone." She turned her face to the azure sky, And checked her tears the while ; Till the mellowing light that flamed on high. Drew o'er her face a smile. So heavenly seemed her beauteous face. The Doge looked up in awe ; And the youths each rose from out his place, As if a saint he saw. Then spake the Doge — " Sweet Leonore, "What see'st thou in the sun, That thy irids bright iidiale his Light, Yet cast their glance on none ?" " I see the mirror of truthful love," In a low voice answered she ; " I see the reflex carved above Of the love I bear to thee. 54 THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. " I see portrayed on his sliining flame, On liis flasliing golden zone, The I'oriu that first to my spirit came Ere my deep love had hegiui." She turned her face to the opal sea With a look of frenzy wild, — The waves below rolled gloriously, As the sunlight o'er them smiled. Her face grew strong and pale and cold, As she gazed the deeps adown, — And the maidens in terror started up From Leneath their flowery crown. " What seest thou there, sweet Leonore 1" Said the Doge, in a solemn tone: " Why turns thy face so pallid o'er, And rigid as statue-stone ?" 'O' " I see in the deep sea more, — far more Than I saw in the blazing sun ; But never its depth will the ring restore Thy bridegroom's hand hath tlirown. "O'^ " I see it lie — oh ! fathoms deep — Whence none may the gem up-bring And the glancing fishes round it creep, Like guards round a sacred thing. THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. 55 " I mourn, — but not that the sun above Shall ne'er shine on its l^eauteoiis dyes ; — I mourn for the death of the mighty love That with it buried lies. " Thou hast laid it deep with the s}Tiibol ring — Far down in a roaring gloom ; Nought, nought can that l>uried love up-bring. And mine — is its fathomless tomb." She sprang to the breast of the rolling wave Like a lily to the blast, — And ere they could stretch an arm to save. Beneath her form had passed. And down she sank, — they saw her clear, — Far do^vn through the wavelets fair ; Till calm, the mystic ring so near, She rested — safely there. Then rose to the su^rface, sweeping up Like a mermaid bathed in foam ; And the symbol ring did the maiden bring. Safe — safe from its watery home. " Hail ! hail to the nymj)]! of Adria, Who tlius can breast the wave : 'Tis the fairest diver of the land ! The bravest of the brave ! 56 THE MARRIAGE OF THE SEA. " Hail to the fairest maiden ! Hail To the Queen of the Adrian Sea ! " Thus spake the Doge to the damsel pale, As he sank on his bended knee ; And clasped her wild to his beating heart, And prayed her to forgive ; Then soft vowed he, on his bended knee, For her alone to live. She smiled around right joyously, On the sun and the wave smiled she ; " Behold, I up-bring thy marriage ring ! Thou'rt stiU a maid, oh Sea !" She cast it down, right merrily down. And laughed out long and free : " Flow bright, flow soft, flow calm around, Thou'rt wedded now, oh Sea ! " Eustace. IRENE. (a legend of the villa lante.) We laid her slowly — softly down, Beside the star-lit sepulchre, Where all the saints might look at her ; And then — they left me there alone. The stars gazed downward solemnly O'er sculptured arch, and moon-lit stair, Thro' crimson casements past compare. Where sainted forms shone gloomily. The roses on her brow I laid, — The fair white lilies in her hand,— Upon her breast the mystic band Of amaranth, that ne'er shall fade. Two snow-white roses from her brow I took, — and kissed them solemnly, In sign of vengeance yet to be ; And see ! their hue is blood-red tww. The others at her feet I laid. A crucifix upon her breast, — To guard her in her dreamless rest — Then for her soul's repose I prayed ! Eustace. -Ro?n.e, ISG4. 58 THE PEARL FISHER. (Suggested by a Statue from the Studio of Paul Akers at Rome.) Beneath the sliining waters of the gorgeous Indian sea, There lieth many a treasure fine of shipwrecked argosy ; And many a sunny island springs glittering from the main, Where sleeps the young pearl fisher, never to wake The weeds are t^vining softly in and out his golden haii'. And leafy sprays of crimson shine around his body fair, And very silently he lies within his boundless grave, Oh ! very cahn, and safe at rest beneath the sapphire wave. The winds of Heaven play softly o'er the gorgeous Indian sea, Whose deep blue waters lap him round, asleep, where no winds be ; The coral islands start up into life, and close him round With walls of scarlet adamant, and solitude profound. The very pearls around him that in life he held so dear. Lie patiently beside his hand, — he knows not they are near ; THE PEARL FISHER. 59 The glancing fishes dart aside in wonderment and fear. The sea is deep, — the sea is wide, — his grave is bright and clear. Fast in the scarlet meshes of the cruel weed he lies, — Coldly the sunlight flashes down across his closed eyes ; Bright is his couch witli puqile in a gorgeous reedy gloom. Where silent coral insects build the four walls of his tomb. Of scarlet is the vaulted roof, — scarlet the glowing wall. And in the midst his body lies in a dazzling scarlet pall, — (Jlittering white in all the glory of his beauty proud ; On his arm his head is pillowed, — over the sea-shells bowed. Calm in the sea-girt silence where no ripple dares to moan, He sleeps among tlie islands, very softly — all alone. Can the briglit angels see liim — fathom-deep down in the sea ? Can they penetrate the darkness of the ocean's mystery ? The God who made can see liun, — fathom-deep down where he lies, — With the water sealing up his ear, and closing fast his eyes; 60 THE PEARL FISHER. And when the sea shall cast its dead upon the Heavenly shore, The fisher shaD awake and hear, and live for evermore. Then Christ shall lay his finger on the fast-closed ear and eye, And bear him from the sapphire sea, up through the sapphire sky. Till then the brave pearl fisher sleepeth brightly, calmly on — In his rest beneath the Indian sea, where none shall wake him, none ! Eustace. Rome, ISGJf- 61 DIRGE. " Where the moon and stars Float up softly through the azure sky ; Where the stones gleam white in the moonbeam, And the willows weep in the simbeam, Let me lie ! Where the thrush and the lark Fling their voices to the gates of Heaven ; Where the nightingale Tells its merry tale When the sunset gilds the sky at even,— Let me lie ! " " Where the restless wave Sings the re({uiem of the brave and fair ; Where the billows only Break the silence lonely, And the sighmg murmur Of the wind that thunders round the hero's gi-ave, And o'er thy tomb so rare ; Among the coral islands, Thou shalt sleep for days, and months, and years ! 62 DIRGE. And the silence Sliall not jiasa away, — But (lay l)y day, Grow more deep and lasting ; Waves sliall seal tLine ear, Sleeping, — waking, — dreaming,— by the islands That the coral wonns are casting For thy bier ! " Eustace. ( TART SECOND. ()5 LINES ADDRESSED TO AN INFANT, WHO LISTENED WITH DELIGHT TO THE STRAINS OF A MUSICAL BOX.* Oh ! surely that earnest and tliouglitful brow Belongs not, fair cLild, to thee ; And why is the laugh that I heard but now Checked in its gushing glee ? Wliat " change" has passed o'er thy "spirit's dream," E'en yet m its infancy ? What shadow hatli (quenched the sunny beam Of thy bright and joyous eye ? I marvel not, — for the magic power That is borne on Music's wing. Is pressing upon thy frame this hour, Too much for so frail a thing. Oh ! fain would'st thou soar from earth away. Its fetters are hard to bear, While visions so beautiful I'ound tliee play, Whose glories thou canst not share. Tliou art dreaming, perchance, of a sunny world, 'Wherein thy lot is cast, — Where the banner of gladness is ever unfurled, And unknown is the tempest's blast ; * Tlie infajit alliulccl to was Eustace Harwood. GG LINES. Where the balmy breezes are always mild, — Briglit skies, and thornless flowers ; Oh ! would for thy sake, and our own, sweet cliild, That such were this world of ours ! But sorrow and sadness have entrance here, And bitter is discord's breath, — While the spirit of darkness ever is near To lure us to sin and death ! One flower alone is without a thorn, ?Iay'at thou prize it all else above, — From thy breast may it never be nidely torn, — 'Tis the " thornless rose of love ! " Its presence will lessen life's bitterest draught. Though full that cup may be, — Wldle the sweetest that mortal e'er has quaff"ed Is mingled, by Love, for thee ! Then cherish its growth in thy youthful heart. It will bless thy fostering care, — And, by bidding all discord and strife depart, Will create an Eden there. Hast thou visions too of a far-off land, Wliose streets are paved with gold I Where beings in white walk hand in hand, And glittering harjjs they hold. Oh ! tales of glory to infant ear. In such tones may well be given, — They sjieak in the voice of their own bright sphere ;. For Music's home is Heaven. LIXES. And all thy dreams of that blessed place Too glorious cannot be, For the visions of earth never yet kept pace With the fair reality ! Even these sweet echoes floating by, Cannot lift thy fancy dim Unto the swelling harmony Of the seraph angels' hymn. And in that song of endless joy Mayst thou at last unite, — When thy race on earth is run, fair boy. And thoii hast gained the light. And in early life may thy Master see His armour girded on, — Nor laid aside, until victory Proclaims the battle won ! Eva. F £ 68 THE TRIALS OF LIFE. "■'■ Is there no balm in Gilead ? — is there no Physician there r " J Ell. viii. 22. Oh ! say while Life's broad stream is ouward flowing, And each frail barque pursues the course unknown, Is there to one a sky for ever glowing ? AVas there e'er one who told of joy alone 1 No ! though around them airy visions floated, Though brightly may have da-mied their early mom, He — the All-righteous— hath in wisdom noted, " As sparks fly upwards, man to woe is bom." See where that wasted form in anguish glideth To one loved spot within the churchyard lone, Cra\'ing for death, which now, alas ! divideth A widowed mother from her only sou. Yet, oh ! thou stricken mourner — broken-hearted, Childless and desolate, though thou mayst be — Moui-n not too deeply him who hath departed, For there is " balm in Gilead " still for thee. And there an exile sad and lone is pining, Forced from his native land for aye to roam ; Whilst many a fond remembrance round him twining, Brings to his mind his countrv and liis home. THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 69 All ! lonely mourner, sad forsaken stranger, There still is One who all thy woes can feel, — Whose Hand will lead thee on through every danger, And who thy griefs with " Gilead's balm " will heal. See where that tall and haughty form is standing, Of all his earthly goods at once bereft ; Quenched is the fiery eye and glance commanding — None of his boasted treasures now are left. Yet, oh ! perchance this warning, timely gdven, May loose the heart to earth so closely bound ; And though each prospect fair from thee is riven. There's " babn in Gilead " still for every wound. Mark where that fair and youthful form is kneeling, Who mourns her last and only parent gone ; The tear of anguish do^vn her cheek is stealing — An orphan left in this l)leak world alone ! Yet, though oppressed with sadness, care, and sorrow, Friendless and fatherless although thou be. Look for the dawning of a brighter morrow. Still is there " balm in Gilead " poured for thee. And there a husband, tears of madness weeping. Deplores the loss of her, — his fondest i)ride, — Who in her last " long home " is calmly sleeping. While her first-bom reposes by her side. Yet, thou bereaved and lone one ! though around thee Dark shadows rise, and cloud thy pathway o'er, Tlio chasteiiing tland which sent this grief to wound tliee Will ever " balm in Gilead " freely pour. 70 THE TRIAI,S OF LIFE. And thou, fair girl, whose eye upturned to Heaven, And quivering lip, the hidden woe bespeak, I need not ask what tie from thee is riven, What uutohl agony now pales thy cheek. Oil I though thy " soul's first idol" hath forsaken, And clouded though thy brightest visions be. Lift up the bleeding heart in faith imshaken, For there is " balm in Gilead" e'en for thee ! And tluis we see where'er we look around us. That man is proved by sorrow from his birth ; Some grief, in mercy, oft is sent to wound us ; Some stroke, perchance, to wean our souls from earth. Then let us bow in humble, deep submission. With hearts resigned our every trial feel ; For still "in Gilead" dwells the kind Physician, And He our deepest, bitterest Avoes will heal. Beatrice. THE NEW YEAK. Another year of Time's brief space gone by, — Another milestone of Life's jonrney past ! Here let me pause, and read with watchful eye The shadows by the light of Memory cast O'er the dejmrting scene, and thus receive The lessons Avhich that view is meant to give. Yes ; there are shadows there — of sin, of doulit. Of trembling backwaixlness to do Thy will, My best of friends ! a cloud of murmuring thought, Or vain desire, for what Thy mercy still AVithheld from one who needs Thy chastening rod, Lest she should wholly wander from her God. But there is light as well ; — a precious gleam. Clothing the landscaj)e with the hue of Heaven ; Its focus is the Cross, — and in its beam I read the blessed tale of sin forgiven — Help by the helpless found — the will subdued — And Peace, the purchase of a Savio\ir's blood, Flowing within the soul, in those sweet hours When I have felt the joy of serving Thee ; — Felt, — but too seldom ! — Oh ! that all my powers May with this opening year more fully be Upon Thine altar laid ; no more to move, But sweetly bound there by the cords of love. Agnes. DIRGE FOR THE OLD YEAR. Farewell, eternally farewell to thee, Departed year ! With us no longer may thy dwelling be ; Our changing sphere This nlglit hath listened to the muffled tone Which tells us that thy destiny is done. The joys and sorrows it was thine to bring, When thou wast born, Lie buried now beneath thy folded wing, Ne'er to return ; Though many changes all around we see, Which thou hast brought, but canst not take with thee. To me liow mournful sounds thy last farewell. Departed year ! For I have loved thy precious gifts so well, That o'er thy bier 'Tis meet the tear should fall, though all in vain ; For thou art gone, and canst not come again ! Flowers, fair iiuwers, have sprung beneath tliy tread, Whose fadeless bloom A pure, undj-ing fragrance long will shed Around thy tomb ; That tomb from whose dark depths has risen now A young, bright being, with unclouded brow. DIRGE FOR THE OLD YEAR. < .j Unclouded yet, though thunder-clouds may rise Around that form, Which hath an untold mission from the skies Here to perform ; And holds the fate of all the world beneath, Alike the bearer both of life and death ! But 'tis not for our mortal eyes to gaze Within the veil ; Though ofttimes would we, that dim curtain raise, And learn the tale Which the dark future hath recorded there — Of new enjoyments, or unthought-of care. Enough it is for our frail hearts to know He cannot err — Wlio rales the hidden lot of all below ; — Then wherefore fear The New Year's power to change our destinies. Since " in the hollow of His Hand " it lies ? Rather let Faith's clear eye be raised to Heaven, And read above, Tlmt lessons both of grief and joy are given In boundless love, To guide our spirits to that sinless shore. Where " times and seasons " shall be known no more ! Eva. 74 THE PAINTINGS OF THE HEART. Oh ! tliou \\'ho seekest by the light of Heaven For Natui'e's charms in wild luxuriance strewn ; Who feelest that to other men is given A world of interest equal to thine O'wn. Dost thou not love in pensive mood to ponder Upon the treasiires Art hath borne away ? Through scenes that are no more, in thought to wander, Gazing on forms long passed into decay ? Thou dost ! but nought thine eye is there beholding Can o'er thee rays so bright of pleasure dart, As the deep things ^^-ithin thy soul unfolding — The strange mysterious paintings of the heart ! TJtcy are of scenes that meet thine eyes no longer ; Moimtain and vale that once have felt thy tread ; Spots that have watched the cords of love grow stronger, Whilst thought met thought, and kindly words werr said. In them are imaged forth thy childhood's hours, Witli all their vernal beauty quickly past ; Bearing away from thee those radiant flowers Thou would st throughout thy future life to last THE PAINTINGS OF THE HEART. / They have enslirined tlie absent ! luiforgetting Thou lov'st each well-know^l feature to review ; Till (lost in gladness, all thy vain regretting), Thou deem'st the ideal approaching to the true. They give thee back from earth the long dejiartcd ; The deeply-loved, the deeply-moumed, are thine. Gaze on them, till, no longer mournful hearted, Shalt thou at Heaven'.s high puriioses repine. Theij show the guardian spirits hovering o'er us — Perchance the friends that have been called away ; Who, past the bounded path that lies liefure us, Have found their home in realms of cloudless day. Oh ! of that home thou hast some faint portraying Within the sacred chamber of thy soul ; Though thick the mist thine earnest glances staying, Till Death shall bid its curtain upward roll. Ianthe. 76 STANZAS. " Oil ! that I had wings lite a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest ! " — Ps. Iv. 6. When sickness, care, and woe, Teach us that man is ne'er supremely blest, How sweet it is to know That eartli Ls not our lasting place of rest. And not alone, when grief QuelLs our aifection for the things of time. Does the heart find relief In turning to a brighter, happier clime. For when our hopes are high. And the yoimg heart sees nought but pleasure near, Still do we breathe a sigh For bliss more perfect than awaits us here. Yes, while no clouds I see, — While not a shadow dims the landscape bright, — Fain would my spirit flee, And soar, unshackled, into realms of light. STANZAS. I Tlieu ai"e love's claims so small, That I could part witlioiit a sigli or tear ? Hoic could I leave them all — The dearly loved, the fondly cherished — here ? Does not my panting heart Shrink from a struggle it could scarcely hear / While longing to de]iart, Yet cling to earth and all the treasures there \ Oh ! though the ties are strong That chain me do^wn heloM', and inahe me blei^t, More doth my s])ii'it long To reach a home of eveilastiii" rest ! Beatrice. 78 FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL Was arrested by the hand of Death whilst preparing a lecture on Knowledge ; the last words he wrote being — " But the consummate and the perfect knowledge " Oh, Death ! thou mighty conqueror ! mortal foe ! Whose fearful presence shades our path below, "When w'iU thy triumph end ? When is there, or when hath there been, the hour That bids defiance to thy matchless j^tower, To which all here must tend ? The bright, the beautiful, tlie best beloved. By thy relentless hand are all removed, Far from their homes on earth. " Rivers of sorrow " are called forth by thee, One touch of thine can check the young heart's glee, And hush the voice of mirth. When most luilooked for thou art at our door ; And what was yesterday is now no more — Borne on thy wings away. Short though thy summons, yet it must be heard ; No prayers, no tears, can change thy changeless word, Or serve thy course to stay. Mournfully solemn is thy conquest now. Causing full many a loving head to bow Beneath the blow severe. FHEDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. .9 One has been severed by a moment's wnng, Just as Ms O'mi heart's bright imagining Had reached its native sphere. Unearthly radiance burned Avithin his eye, Which, as he raised it to the deep blue sky, Shone with a holy beam. Bright thoughts, but rarelv unto mortals known, Poured on his spirit from the Eternal Throne, In a clear, blessed stream. Then once again he bowed his noble head, To tell the brightness that -sx'as o'er him shed, In one brief thrilling phrase ; But the pure knowledge he had gained from Heaven. To him — and unto him alone — w'as given, Ne'er to meet other gaze. o" Pale and yet paler grew his lofty brow — The light of genius is fading now At the cold touch of Death ; The pen that c[uivers in his stiffening hand Drops — as the summons from a far-off Luid Hushes the fleeting breath. D And he was gone ! his brilliant " sunset hour " Came when his mind, in all its kindling power, Was bathed in light and bliss ; A sweet foreknowlege of what was to come, When he at last should reach his final home Of endless happiness ! 80 FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. " Perfect ami consummate " thy knowledge iww, Bright, blessed dreamer ! snatched from all below In tliat thy houi' of j)ride ; When tlioii wert nearest to the longed-for goal, And truth was dawning on thy earnest soul — Oh I shouldst thou tlius liave died ? It is not ours to say — tliy work was done ; Therefore the sunmions from the Almighty One "Went quickly forth to thee. In peace and joy thou listened to the word, And bowed before the mandate of the Lord In calm serenity. So the star vanished fi-om oiir clianging sky, To Ijeam with tenfold brilliancy on liigh, Where bright things never fade. Oh! when we feel, and know, that Terror's King Bears such pure glory on his rapid wing, Would we that wing liave stayed ? o Hasty the pinions that bore thee on ; In one brief, breathless instant thou wcit gone Over the black waves' foam. Then angels welcomed thy triimiphant flight, And led thee to the land of life and li THE LIVING WATER. Tlieu be thy yearnings stilled ! And pnii.se His love who only sends thee sadness, That from the well-spring of eternal gladness Thy tliirsting heart may evermore be filled. Let every idol fall, — Wait on His will with love's sweet resignation,— So shalt thou find in Him thy full salvation, — .Jesus, thy Saviour, shall be all in all ! Agnes. 1 123 STANZAS. How oft, when all without seems fair, The heart with grief is torn, And they toe tliink most happy are Those who the deepest mourn. And when the brow of youth appears Decked in its gayest smile, — How oft the heart is full of cares And sorrow all tlie while ! Beatkick. 124 LAST HOURS AT BRYMBO* Oh I tell me wherefore are the sunny houis So short and swift to-day ? I see them decked with all earth's fairest flowers, And yet they will not stay, — r>ut, lightly scattering their fairy showers. They speed away — away ! Oh I pause ye bright ones on your rapid wings, Nor hasten on so fast, — Why are the bearers of such glorious things No sooner come than past ? Tenfold the beauty that each wanderer brings. Too rich — too pure to last ! It may not be, — still onward, — onward, — going, I mark your hasty flight, — Whose winged speed is far too plainly showing Hiiw frail is all that's bright ! Short-lived the roses in your sunshine growing ; They each must fade to-night ! * The home of an intimate friend of the writer. LAST KUURS AT BRYMBO. I'if) For on the iiiunuw will your portion be To bear me tar av.ay From this sweet home of mirth ami revelry, So doubly dear to-day ; Fain would I linger 'mid such scenes of glee, Oh ! let me, let me stay ! You hearken not, — but moving, ever moving, Each rising hope you quell ; The steady haste of those lleet pinions proving Clearly as words could tell, — How soon I now must breathe to loved antl luving A long, — a last farewell ! 1 look around me ;— smiles are Inightly glancing, As the gay jest is passed, — And every heart, save one, ls lightly dancing.— One brow alone o'ercast ; Why should nhe mourn the evening hours advancing/ That evening is her lad ! Her last at Brv-mbo I — yet she scorns to borrow One pang from future pain ; To feel to-day what mud be felt to-morrow Is all alike in vain ; Depart then quickly, ye dark shades of sorrow : Yd bright thoughts, come again ! 126 LAST HOURS AT RRYMBO. And give me courage to "hope on, hope ever," E'en through the deepest gloom, To press on joyously, — dcspaiiing never, Of what is yet to come ; — The bursting of these ties so hard to sever. Will only bear me — home I The "place of rest" for ■\voman, — whose fond soul Turns from the storms of life, When o'er those storms she can have no control, To calm or quell their strife ; She shrinks to hear the tempest's ceaseless roU, With noisv tumult rife. And though all-dazzling are the pleasures, springing Where restless spirits dwell, — I dread the enchantments they are round nie Hinging And must resist the spell ; Nor to their fearful radiance wildly clinging, Regret the word — " Farewell ! " J''or it will lead me to a calmer spot. Less dangerous, — more dear ; Where, midst the duties of a peaceful lot, A quiet, noiseless sphere, Will, unlamented be, — tliough not forgot,- The burning bi'ightness here ! LAST HOURS AT BRYMBO. 127 And HOW to rest — I heur tlie brief command, I see the tapers liglit, — How warm the pressure of the " ii'on hand ;" The farewell smile is Lriiiht ; — \^'ell may I hasten to Oblivion's land, — Good-night, kind friends, good-niglit ! P]VA. 128 LEYLA. A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT. " The Parsees of Bombay (who may very justly be called the Quakers of the East), though an enlightened and humane tribe, possess many singular customs, and strict and regular usages ; one of these is the obligation to marry only within the tribe. Any aberration from this practice is punished with immediate death, and nothing can avert the fate of the unfortunate victim." — Tales and Sketches of a Soldier s Life. It was an eve of silent loveliness, — Nature is hushed in still and calm repose ; Proud vessels on the wave lie motionless, And all around in tranqiul beauty glows, Where, fanned by many a perfume-scented breeze, Lies a fair island 'midst the Indian seas. 'Twas when the sun's last rays all briyhtly slioue Upon the waves that wash thy shore, Bombay, That, wrapt in thought, unheeded and alone. In musing solitude a maiden lay ; Her tearful, restless eye, and varying cheek, Some mighty struggle of the soul bespeak. Oh ! she was beautiful ! her clear dark eye Now shed its soft and smiling light around ; And now, as .sudden clouds obscure the sky. Was fi.xed in mournful gaze upon the ground ; LEYLA. 120 So earnest and so sad, you well might deem Her memory lingered on some fearful dream. Her long black tresses fell around her now In simple beauty, decked with pearls alone ; Scarce sixteen years had passed across her brow, Yet those mild eyes, so full of light, that shone, Told that within young Leyla's lofty mind, All woman's holiest feelings lay enshrined. She was her Father's loved and only child, Heiress to wealth he had with care amassed ; Full oft his tedious hours had she becjuiled, And chased the cloud as o'er his brow it passed. Thus loving and beloved, her days had flown, Whilst her young heart had scarce a sorrow known. But ah ! how seldom 'tis our lot to dwell Amid the pleasures youth's gay visions bring ; No longer Leyla's heart could own the spell That flung such brightness round her early Spring : A shade was resting on that marble brow, That told she knew of care and sorrow 7ioiv! Yes, for a youth who from alar had come, Wun by her beauty, sought her as his bride : Implored her now to leave that cherished home. And claim him only as her guard and guide. I'rgod lier to lly to Britain's happy shore, \\niere nought Init death should ever part them more. K 130 LEYI.A. All Avarmly proffered was that gallant heart ; And soon had Leyla fixed her ardent love — The love that only can witli life depart — On him she idolized all else above : Oft did they meet, and 'neath the starry heaven, Their vows of changeless constancy were given. Full Avell her tribe's decree the maiden knew, To all who dare those changeless laws defy ; And as that fearful doom now rose to view, The tear-drop trembled in her downcast eye ; Fierce were the struggles that her bosom wrung, And o'er lier brow their darkeninj^ shadow fluncj. She thought ui>ou her father's wild despair. When thus forsaken by his only child ; She thought upon her mother weeping there, Who oft so tenderly on her had smiled ; And shrank with horror from the early tomb. Which she too sadly feared might be her doom. But then her heart, with "love's true instinct," turned To him who \\ould \va\c died her life to save ; Each wavering feeling from her soul she spurned. All, all her terrors to the winds she gave. E'en thoughts of death no longer fear impart, Love was the victor in tliut youthful heart 1* " Them art tbe victor, Love !" — Mrs. He^nang. LEYLA. 131 With high resolve marked on her gentle brow, In queen-like majesty, the maiden rose ; To her loved home she turns her footsteps now, — Strength more than mortal in her bosom glows ; The fear — the " bitterness " — of death is past, And Leyla's destiny is fixed at last ! They fled ! — .upon their steeds of fiery might, Ere morning dawTied, they sped their rapid way ; Scarce had day yielded to the gloom of niglit Ere that fair girl a mourning captive lay. Three armed pursuers followed in their track, With stem command to bring the victim back. Wildly and nobly fought the gallant youth, From their rude grasp that gentle girl to save ; Flashed o'er his soul the dark and maddening trutli, That for his sake she'd find an early grave ; But soon exhausted with his wounds he lay. While Leyla from his sight was borne away. * The scene is changed. Within a lofty room, Where all the elders of her tribe are seen, Waiting undauntedly to hear her doom, A maiden stands with high and haughty mien : 'Tis Leyla's form, and Leyla's flashing eye, That calndy marks this mournful pageantry ! K 2 132 LFA'LA. Arrayed in costly robes of bridal hue, While glittering jewels deck her youthful form, — Unmoved, unyielding, to her nature true,— She proudly stood, unscathed aniiilst the storm. An hour it was of dark and dread despair, But woman's dauntless courage triumphed there ! Firmly she breathed to all a last farewell. Then from her mother took the fatal bowl ; No tear of sadness from her eyelid fell, No yielding softness o'er her bosom stole : — She drained the cup— soon drooju-d her gentle head- The fair, the bright, the beautiful, was dead ! And when her sad and cruel fate was known To hmi for whom that hapless maiden died, Reason no longer could maintain her throne ; He urged his courser to the foaming tide : — One speck a moment darkened o'er the main. And Leyla's lover ne'er was seen again ! Beatrice. 133 THE SABBATH. " For a day in thy courts is better tLau a thousand." Psalm Ixxxiv. 10. Oh ! all too soon tliy golden hours fleet by, Sweet day of holy rest ! which seems to bring My thirsty spii'it nearer to that fount Whose streams " make glad the city of our God." I love thy blessed calm, — thy hallowed peace, — Coming like dew upon the waiting soul, To make a Sabbath there, and bid it press With quickened ardour towards that heavenly rest, Which " yet remaineth " for the child of God, — Where sin and grief are not. Oh ! may I then, As each succeeding Sabbath dawns upon me, Witli humble watchfulness still wait on Him From whom all blessings come ; and thus receive From His full hand renewal of my strength. Help in the time of need, and every gift Which, in the riches of His grace and love. He willingly bestows on all who come In humble faith to Him ! Agnes. 134 LINES SUGGESTED BY SEEING A TREE BEARING FRUIT AND FLOWERS AT THE SAME TIME, WHICH IS SAID TO BF. A SIGN OF DEATH. Sadness and care a youthful brow are veiling, And shadows come where sunshine used to be ; " Wherefore the troubled gaze, the bright cheek paling, Is life so joyless then, fair girl, to thee ?" " Yes — life is joyless — for the mournful feeling, The strange vague sense of sorrow yet to come, By night, by day, across my heart is stealing, Shrouding its joys beneath a dreary gloom. •' For oh .' I hear in low, mysterious murmur The voice of Death in every breeze that sighs ; Vainly my soul has struggled to be firmer Phantoms of terror still around it rise. " Unearthly visions ever float before me, Unearthly voices fill the summer air ; What is the unseen doom thus pending o'er me ? Whence is the weary weight, so hard to bear ? LINES. 135 " Omens and signs seem all alike portending That grief is hovering near me and around ; Darkening the present, to the future lending A depth of dread my weak heart dare not sound. " I see pale flowers the trees of earth adorning, And midst their bloom the rich fruit ripens fast ; While to each thoughtful spirit comes the warning That this fair season is perchance the last. " That ere another summer dawns in gladness, The grave may open to receive its dead ; And o'er our loving hearts a night of sadness, ' That knows no morrow,' shall for aye be spread. " And that small thing— Death's watcher, now is making Its low quick signal on our household walls ; Nor there alone — for on my sad heart aching, That thrilling sound with mournful power falls. " And Death, I deem, on rapid wings is coming The swift and solemn herald of the tomb — To watch the last sands in the hour-glass running. Of some beloved one, who is nearing home. " Then marvel not that with such dark foreboding The sparkling fount of girlhood's joy should fail ; Its bright stream poisoned with fears so corroding, My smile must sadden, and my cheek grow pale." 13() LINES. •' And hast thou then no trust, nor faith confidintr In Him witliout whose leave no sparrow dies 1 Thou yet must learn that those in Him abiding Seek not to read the future's mysteries. " But humbly strive to do their present duty, And leave the morrow to His gracious care ; So life to them is full of joy and beauty For His protecting love is always there ! " Though heart and flesh may fail, and footsteps quiver, Safe in that love the weakest can recline ; Small room for fear, where peace flows like a river : Pray thou that such peace may henceforth be thine !" Eva. 137 DEATH. "And the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast.' Byron. " Spirit of terror ! stay thy rapid wing, A moment pause in this thy dread career ; Tell me to whom thou flies this day, to bring The fatal hour that ends their pleasure here," " As ever, child of earth, will be my flight, And vain it is to ask to whom I go ; 'Tis yours to bow beneath my changeless might, But of the ' days and hours shall no man know.' " Yet though I may not my dark mission tell, Thou canst in thought its gloomy course attend, Conceive the spirit bidding earth farewell. And entering on the world that knows no end. ^& " To some arrayed in mournful garb I come ; Perchance luidreamt of 'mid gay scenes below, I summon them to tlicir eternal home, — Against me strive they may, — but they must go."' " Where is that home ?" " Thou canst not pierce the shade Veiling its deathless horror from thine eye ; Thou canst not see the guilty soul conveyed To its abode of quenchless agony. 138 DEATH. I'. Oh ! suffer not tliy heart too close to cling To glorious visions it may here behold ; — Clasp not too fondly life's most cherished thing, Though round it brightest flowers of eartli unfold. " Yet are there some who do not dread my voice, Nor startle at the rustling of my wing, — Whose echoing spirits at the sound rejoice, And haste their God's immortal praise to sing." " Where is their home ?" " They are the robed in wdiite, Whose eyes shall weep no more before the throne, To whom the sun shall cease to give his light, Aiid the pale moonshine be no longer known. " From sin and sorrow freed, they find their rest. Where my dark pinions shall be seen no more ; — In that calm land, — the home of spirits blest, — My triumphs of a moment shall be o'er." Ianthe. 139 DEATH. " There is no discharge in that war." — Eccles. viii. 8. How shall I die ? — how oft that question thrilling, Has pressed with solemn weight upon my soul, When I have sought to trace with trembling feeling, Some parted spu'it onward to its goal ; That goal of endless joy, — or woe unknown, That waits us all when life's brief course is run. Must I, too, bear those pangs of mortal anguish, By which the veil of flesh is often rent ? Or through protracted months of weakness languish, — Or in a moment hear the summons sent ? Which comes a voice of terror unto some, — To others a sweet welcome to their home ! Yes ! in that fearful warfare no discharging Can from the conflict give the ])Ower to tlee ; For the grave still, its boundaries enlarging, A place prepares for each, — for all, — for thee. Thou knowest not how — thou knowest not when ; but yet Thou and this awful foe must surely meet ! 140 DEATH. Yet why these fears ? If on thy Lord relying, His blood thy hope,— His cross thy refuge,— know For thee remaineth but the name of dying ; He whom thou fearest is a conquered foe. Whose utmost power can only set thee free, With thy Redeemer evermore to be. Jesus hath trod the shadowy vale before thee. His arm hath spoiled the mighty of his prey ; His shield of love shall be around and o'er thee. His everlasting strength shall be thy stay ; — And midst thy dying anguish thou shalt prove The fulness of His faithfulness and love ! And thus, though pain and sorrow must befall thee. And this poor body turn to dust again, — Leaning on Him, those pangs shall only call thee With His own ransomed ones in bliss to reign ; To own the victory His !— and with them praise His matchless mercy through eternal days. Agnes. 141 LINES ON THE WRECK OF THE AUSTRALIAN STEAM-SHIP, "LONDON," IN THE BAY OP BISCAY, January 11th, ISOG.'^ Round Eiif^land's hearths and homes the tempest heats, While hrighter glows the peace and warmth within ; And joyously each fireside circle meets, Caring but little for the storm's wild din ; Brightly the young year's life is ushered in,— Though farewell words come with its earliest hours ; And empty chairs show where the loved have been ; Some to return with summei-'s fairest flowers, — Some hastening to tlie land whose own they are,— not ours. Ah ! littU' deemed we on that winter's morn, How they, the parted ones, were faring then ; Oh ! could no message on the winds Ije Ijorne, To tell us how that band of noble men, Wrestling with anguish,— far beyond our ken, Hopeless and helpless,— watched each cruel wave, Knowing o'er them no sun could rise again, Yet in their own high courage calm and brave. Sinking like heroes, down into a nameless grave. * Eustace Harwood sailed to and from Australia iu this ill- fated vessel, a few months before his death. 142 LINES. All that the strong man's strength can do or dare, Is done to save them, — but is done in vain ; A stronger arm, a mightier strength is there. To guide the tossings of the ruthless main ; Tliuugh woman's tears fall like the falling rain, And manhood's prayers ascend in agony, — No answer comes to bid the waves refrain. Or the fierce winds to cease their mastery, — The fiat has gone forth ;— those hapless ones must die. And worth and loveliness, — for that was there, — The simlight of so many homes, is fled ; And who may paint the frenzy of despair, With which the crushed and stricken mourners read Of those last awful hours, — whose deep dread Each sorrowing heart in England makes its own : — Yes ; England mourns her brave and honoured dead, 111 can she spare what those wild waves have won,— And, weeping, scarce can say, " Father, Thy will be done !" But— Peace be still !— shall we not trust and pray- Though that voice came not o'er the surging wave,— A pitying Saviour was not far away, But with them there to succour- and to save, From the dread triumph of the hungry grave,— \^ The yawning chasm, — dark, and deep, and vast,— In the last conflict they shall ever have, He more than conquers, — and, their terrors past. Those who have slept in Him, shall wake with joy at last ! Eva. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 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