THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES K ■v.' '^l rrONE SHILLING j] THG \/ PO£MS FOR Emilia jtylrner%3lahe ( lA^J AYLMER COWING ) AUTHOR OF "ballads ^tpOEMS'^ETC "E. S. DREWRY'S NOVELS" From the favourable attention gained by this already-a«ceptea novels*, a unitbrui senes of her so justifiably remarkable productions is now in pro- gress. Tlieir profound insight :ntu liie and euciety in all phases, their able exposition oi lieart-throes in pleasure and in passion, and their dainty yet firm treatment of the charm and pathos of young i'.nglish womanhood — these won and constantly augment the hosts of readers as often delighted as astounded. Tliough presented in a liand.some form, the present edition is at a popular price to enable its being jiiaced in any bookcase The first is " Only an Actukss," of the more inonitiu when the barrier? between the stage and the peeress's .-mlon are levelled; to be followed bj " On DANcihKoLs Ukuumj," and others in due succession. NEW CHEAP UNIFORM EDITION OF E. S. DEEWEY'S NOVELS Price 2s., Picture Boards; 2s. 6d., Cloth Gilt; 3s. 6J., UaLf M-jrocco. (Postage 4a. tacu.) ONLY AN ACTRESS ON DANGEROUS GROUND BAPTISED WITH A CURSE A DEATH-RING VERE DELMAR THE CLOUDS BETW^EEN THEM LOVE'S LABOUR GAINED London : J. & R. MAXWELL, Publishers, MiiTON House, 14 and 15, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street, AND 35, St. Bride Street, Ludgate Circus, E.G. And .it ((/( Hiimtuiy ]inok.\Lilli, linoksellers. etc THE CITHERF POEMS FOE RECITATION ETC. BY EMILIA AYLMER BLAKE (Mrs. Aylmer Gowing) AUTHOR OF "ballads AND POEMS," ETC. LONDON JOHN AND ROBERT MAXWELL MILTON HOUSE, ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDQATE CIRCUS AND SHOE LANE, FLEET STREET, E.G. [AH rights reserved] CHEAP UNIFORM EDITION OF MISS MARY CECIL HAY'S NOVELS Price 2S., Picture Boards ; 2s. 6d., Cloth Gilt ; 3s. 6d., Half Morocco. (Postage 4d. each.) OLD MYDDELTON'S MONEY HIDDEN PERILS VICTOR AND VANQUISHED THE ARUNDEL MOTTO THE SQUIRE'S LEGACY NORA'S LOVE TEST FOR HER DEAR SAKE BRENDA YORKE DOROTHYS VENTURE MISSING UNDER THE WILL BID ME DISCOURSE London : J. & R. MAXWELL, Milton House, 14 & 15, Shoe Lane, Fleet St.. AND 35, St. Bride St., Ludgate Circus, E.C. And at all Railway Rookstalls, Booksellers, etc. CONTENTS. PAGB The Jubilee Year •'■ 4. Alice Ayees ^ The Good Lord Shaftesbury 9 Victor Hugo ^^ A Misadventure , 15 A Christmas Ballad 1^ A Plea for Mercy 21 A Terrible Tale of the Sea 23 For England and the Eight 30 Victoria Victrix 32 Frederick Gustavus Burnaby 34. vi Contents. PAGE Gordon 38 " Vox PopuLi " 40 Mercedes . . 43 The Princess Alice 45 The Living Gold 47 President Garfield 49 Lilian Adelaide Neilson 51 A Good Physician 53 Me. Wilson Barrett as Claudian 55 Morning Light 57 Wat Tyler 58 Cassandra .......... 66 Pddens and Claudia ........ 73 The Christian Martyr 80 Ezekiel .......... 86 Nebdchadnezzar ......... 94 Contents. vii SONNETS— Homer 113 Sappho 114 ^SCHYLUS 115 Sophocles 116 Euripides . . . 117 Shakespeare 118 Byron II9 Lamartine 120 Job XVII. 14 121 M. L. A. B 122 Till Death Us do Part ...... 123 Seven Years 12-t Love is of God 125 In Memoriam 126 Alice Mary Cunningham 127 Florence Pennington 128 In Memoriaji 129 Sir Moses Montefiore 130 To Mrs, Kendal 131 Henry the Fifth of France 132 Princess Beatrice 133 Qdeen Adelaide's Tree 134 THE CITHERN. THE JUBILEE YEAR, June 2oth, 1886. TO THE QUEE:N'. Lady, our Queen ! To thee our eyes' desire Cleaves in sweet homage next to Him alone, The shadow of Avhose chariot wheels of fire Falls on thy earthly throne ; For thou, dear Sovereign, from thy tender youth. For fifty years hast held thy glorious reign In right and mercy — tempered, of a truth, With touch of human pain. Yes, thou who dwell'st on that lone seat apart, Earth's highest — wear'st the veil of mortal woe Beneath thy diadem, and grief's deep heart, Like one of us, dost know. B 2 The Cithern. Others have compassed empire hy the sword, And, throned above a sea of fire and blood, Have taught the trampled earth to know her lord And conqueror, unwithstood ; But thou with tears hast more prevailed than these, Great mother of the world's imperial race ! Whose millions teem like children round thy knees, Gathered to seek thy face. For all thy loss — for wedlock's holy kiss, For perfect love, fair virtue's richest dower, The Father of us all has given thee this Most blessed Sovereign power, To heal and bind the nations, one by one, To draw the borders of the South and "West Unto the morning land, in union Gathered to England's breast. The golden circlet shines about thy head, A link of love to join them from afar, Wlio dwell in freedom's light and safety, shed Down from thy Empire's star. So, rings of growth upon the British oak Have marked thy prosperous years of sovereign sway, And children's children, England's line unbroke, Arise and bless thy day : The ftibilee Yeai'. The promise of a stem of Eoyal kings, Mirrored in hope's illimitable sea, To flourish through the change of earthly things, Champions of liberty ! Through them, thy thoughts shall live and perish not- His, too, untimely gone to his reward, Who shaped thy course with wisdom unforgot. Thy heart's true wedded lord. Together at the gates of Paradise Ye dwelt, till love became sublime by faith, And light was given to the weeping eyes To pierce the veil of death. Long be thy days of earthly blessing yet, Empress, till God in glory shall restore Thine own, and on thy brow of sorrow set Joy's crown for evermore ! B 2 ALICE AYRES. T'he Story of a Fire which occurred in the Borough, A]jril 2ith 1885. What's there beneath, whi>re the flo^yers in a lieap Kain down like the snows of May, That a fellow like me should turn and weep As I linger to go away 1 My heart is that full I scarce can speak — And, mates, ye may well look strange At the hard, rough man with tears on his cheek — Yes, faith, I have suffered a change. What has happened 1 Well, one dark night Last week, I was roaming about Through London streets, when a sudden liglit Woke me up with a start and a shout : Fire, fire ! ere I knew the words I had said, They were echoed deep and loud, With a cry of terror to raise the dead From the lips of the gathering crowd. Alice Ay res. KoumI a blazing oil-shop they hustle quick, Like flies where the flames shoot tall, And the choking smoke burst dark and thick Through the chinks of the cracking wall. In the burning frame of a window above Was set a woman's form, And a cry, " Help, help, for God's dear love ! " Kang out above the storm. Quick, quick, to the rescue, firemen brave With shouts and galloping feet ! " They come, they come, but too late to save," The cry rose up from the street. Each man his coat, each woman her shawl, They stripped themselves, and bound In a mass together to break the fall From topmost floor to ground. " Leap, leap," they cried, to the ashen face Hemmed round with darts of flame : But she vanished three times from that fearful place, And three times back she came. t Do"\vn through the window, a broad, soft bed She flung on the cniel stones, Then calmly bore forth in her arms and led Three helpless little ones. The Cithern. One by one on tlie bed beneath She dropped the children down, Tliree lives redeemed from fiery death, While she thought not of her own. When we saw her totter through blinding smoke As her strength with her breath should fail, From a sea of flamelit faces broke One agonising wail : " For God's sake, save yourself," they shriek, As they raise the outstretched bed ; Towards the tongues of fire that licked her cheek The girl turned round her head. Oh God ! those eyes of anguish wild, Those white lips of despair Cast back on the mother and youngest child Sunk, choked and senseless there ! She could no more — in her frenzy wrought To a rash and sudden spring — Headforemost, in our arms we caught A cru.shed and speechless thing ! With shouts through the night speed the firemen brave, As the fountains of flame shoot higher : A rush of waters — too late to save From the grasp of the fiend of fire ! Alice Ayi'es. Dust and ashes were all that was left "When they passed that smouldering door ; None lived of that house but those infants bereft, And she who spoke no more. I have looked on many an awful sight On land and aboard o' ships, But none like that — lying still and white, "With a smile upon her lips. We lifted her gently one and all — No sound of life, no stir, While we bore her to the hospital, Gave hope to our hearts for her. I hung like a ghost about the place Where silent in peace she lay. With the happy smile on her fair young face, Till they knew she had passed away. From her village home we carried her forth For a noble burial ; '^ Ay, a hero's grave the maiden were worth "Who died at duty's call. No soldier nor sailor by land or sea In the bed of honour laid. Was ever more great of heart than she. That simple serving maid. The Cithern. Ay, all she had she gave — her life, For the babes she never bore ; What coixld the mother and the wife For flesh of her flesh do more % Like a comrade fallen, the firemen brave Her snow-wreathed coffin bear, And twenty maidens surround her grave, In raiment white and fair. I can well believe by the power of God A heavenly angel sprung From that broken lily beneath the sod, "When earth to earth we flung. This deed she has done shall be hallowed yet By a people's tears and prayers, For England oiir mother can never forget Such a daughter as Alice A}Tes. THE GOOD LORD SHAFTESBURY. (October, 1885.) He has passed, our knight of the stainless shield, Through the shadow of the door, To the "wondrous glory, unrevealed Till time shall be no more. The noble and mighty is laid to rest, "Who was girt about his knee With honour's symbol, and bore on his breast The star of chivalry. 'Nov ever of Britain's heroic breed Went forth to dare and do A bolder champion, in word and deed, More stout of heart, more true, To right the helpless, and lift again God's children fallen low. By a hand that thrilled with others' pain At the touch of want and woe. lo The Cithern. In the human outcasts, the abject and base, By sin and misery trod, Could his loving eye of compassion trace The image of his God. For tender children his soul was vexed, For their bodies' maim and soil Through oppression's greed, for women unsexed. Made vile by shameful toil. Unto all such as these would he condescend, Till he led them by the hand Out of guilt's dishonour, and stood their friend 'Mongst the princes of the land. And he taught them mercy — the law of love To every living thing, For the cry of the speecliless is heard above In the courts of creation's King. He has lived his life, and, ripe of days, The garnering angels cull The golden fruit, and with joy and praise They have made death beautiful. His spirit has looked through the eyes of clay Its last upon his own, And the quenchless light of another day In their tender cjaze has shone. The Good Lord Shaftesbury. 1 1 God's poor shall hallow his burial With the tribute of grateful sons ; By thousands and thousands they follow, all His hosts of rescued ones. And the land has kope that bears in her breast One pure in heart as he, By her princes and people so honoured, so blest — The good Lord Shaftesbury. VICTOR HUGO. {June, 1885.) Why sits fair France on her throne of grief Bowed down 'neath the arrow of fate, Like a queen bereaved of her prince and chief, Sore weeping for loss of her mate ] Xo iron hand of a Avarrior king Yields up to dissolving death His royal sceptre and marriage ring With the sigh of departing breath. 'lis her Victor singer, her voice among men. Her lord of the eloquent word, Whose lips lie sealed where never again The thoughts of his heart may be stirred. Of a nation's great sorroAv the symbols drape Her monuments of fame ; And the lights of Paris burn shrouded in crape With a dim funereal flame. Victor Hugo. 13 Weep, mother city, remembering, fond, Wlio touched thy ancient stones "With the quenchless spark of a glory beyond All the SAvord of conquest owns : Thy poet son, and thy champion strong To suffer upon thy part, Through thy darkest days of reproach and wrong — The large and pitiful heart. Ay, for this the most, on the pauper's bier That carried his corse, as he bade. Have a mighty people, with many a tear Their tribute of honour laid. For this the most, 'neath the glorious arch Of triumph his body lay. For a day and a night, till the funeral march Eolled forth on the Victor's way. France gave but his due, when she gave him all The wealth of her homage, nor Decreed him less noble burial Than her first great Emperor. For this the most, the scorner of Eome As a child of our God, we trust, May see the light of a Father's home In the mansions of the just. 14 The Cithern. Xo loftier spirit e'er issued fortk God's everlasting door ; No tenderer bosom e'er cherished on earth His infants and His poor. A MISADVENTURE. Occurred at Little 3Ialton, Sussex, in Septemher, 188±. Nurslings of an English motlier, Up to manhood s pitli and bone Sprung, beside his little brother, Samuel, her first, her own. Proud in strength, his six days' labour Finished, apt for sport and cheer, At the call of pipe and tabor Marched the gallant volunteer, Through the hamlet to the common — And the mother's eyes would swim When the lone and weary woman In the ranks could single him ; 'Mongst those restless, daring spirits, Taught the uses of command, And the part each son inherits In the honour of the land. 1 6 The Cithern. Living bulwark, iron steady, Valour scliooled in hours of play How to wield the weapon ready For the battle's stern array. And when work or drill was over At the close of evening, With the light laugh of the rover Would the widow's cottage ring. Once he came — as 'twere another Than himself, with voice so strange, Rude in jest with his young brotlier Scared and wondering at the change, That the frightened boy entreated, Soothed, and led him towards a chair ; Scarce a quiet moment seated Could the lad restrain him there. Up he sprang, and Avildly laughing Snatched his rifle from its place — In his mood of savage chaffing Aimed it at his mother's face, And, within a moment after, Lay a dying woman there. And the shouts of drunken laughter Sank to wailings of despair. A Misadventitre. 17 " I am shot," she moaned ; he heard her — On his knees, the wretched son Felt the creeping stain of murder : " Oh my God, what have I done % " Have I killed her % — poor, poor mother ! " Groaned he o'er her as she lay : Then he flmig aside his brother, Cried aloud and broke away. What could late remorse do for her % Living voice no more shall rouse Sleep like that — Avliose livid horror Drove him frenzied through the house. His the hand that quenched for ever All the love, the hope, the care That till now had failed him never — This was more than man could bear. As the lightning's stroke had killed him Down he sank — nor moved again — Yet her spirit's Avhisper thrilled him : " Mother-slayer — worse than Cain ! " Long he lay in stillness colder Than the dead — till Justice came, And Avith hand upon his shoulder, Bade him rise and meet the blame. 1 8 The Cithern. And the slayer of his motlier Stood before the coroner, While, half dead with grief, his brother Told how all had chanced to her. Horror rigid, and with creeping Of the flesh, the red right hand Pledged the oath, and, broke Avith weeping. Words fell echoing through the land ; And the souls they thrill and harrow Doubt no more that he speaks true Of his madness and his sorrow. Of his love for her he slew. " Misadventure," — so consenting. Did they let him go his way Through the years, where no repenting Can undo that yesterday. Drink, the woful spring of evil — Death and hell have bred no worse — Drink, the smooth and creeping devil Lured him 'neath the murderer's curse. A CHRISTMAS BALLAD. Hail, Birthday of the Prince of Peace, Season most deeply blest ; When want and woe may feast and sing, And Aveary labour rest ! N"ow, from the hammer and the spade, The desk, the mart, are come All they who earn the hard-got bread For loving ones at home. No earthly master's busy call May summon them away ; The husband and the father sits Among his own, this day. Strong cords of love in innocence Shall bind around the hearth Soul unto soul, while face on face Sheds light of hallowed mirth. c 2 20 The Cithern. The merry children's dancing feet, About the Christmas tree, Ring through the house from floor to roof With shouts of frolic glee. And friends have met, from near, from far- From o'er the Western main The heir of broader fields than ours With joy is come again ! He tells of hope 'neath brighter suns. Where honest toil makes sure To "wm the riches of the earth, Where no man need be poor. The wondering young ones gathered round, With greedy ears and eyes Hang on his words, and loud exclaim At every new surprise. The mother's heart is full — her boy, Her eldest hope and pride, Is come with blessing to the nest, This happy Christmas tide ! The father tastes in joy secure The peace of his abode, For all their days have he and his In sobLTness served God. A PLEA FOR MERCY. Who shall plead the cause of mercy To the speechless things of life, Sharers of our day of nature "Where the seeds of death are rife "? Who that thrills with tender pity, Kind to all, embraces not In the common bond of feeling Those whom God has not forgot 1 Not in vain, to Him the ravens' And the lions' younglings call ; Not without their great Creator May the unnoted sparrows fall. When our father Adam named them And received them to his use, He was made their lord, to spare them From oppression's vile abuse. The Cithern. Ill one ark upon the waters Pleated every rescued race, Till the dove on silver pinion Found for man a resting-place. To the children of the Highest Cometh down the Holy Dove, From the clouds of heaven opening O'er His own in power and love, That their hearts may burn to seek Him And to know Him as He is. Tender unto every creature. Offspring aU alike of His. A TERRIBLE TALE OF THE SEA. We were but poor and common men, a shipwrecked crew of three, Yet the Avorld stood still when we came to tell our Terrible Tale of the Sea ; Murder they called it — what Ave did — God ! and if it Avere, The pangs that tempted us were more than living flesh could bear. And I must speak, or my heart Avould. break, the stern and awful truth. Though no tongue but mine accuse us men of the blood of that orphan youth. Shall we be the last^ and were we the first, to sin and suffer so 1 That the earth cries out to the sea, she has heard no story of such woe. 24 The Cithern. A simple and a common tale : our lives for bread were sold, To plough rough seas in a pleasure toy towards the Southern land of gold. May weather went with us down stream, as they towed her out to sea, And we made our course for Madeira isle^ as fair as fair could be. Four weeks were told from the day we shipped, and straight above, at noon. The sun shot down his fires on our heads from his throne of eternal June : The Avild winds bleAv, the big seas lashed, and hid our little sail, But hope stood firm through the tempest's stress, so bravely she rode the gale. The Captain bade heave-to for the night, and every inch was furled : Then rose the roar of a mighty wave straight down upon us hurled ; It passed ; with the grip of death upon life we drowning four held on, And the depths of waters heard our cry : " My God, her biilwarks gone." A Terrible Tale of the Sea. 25 With sides stove in she was sinking fast : we cut awaj^ a boat, Flung in our compass — and hoped our lives on the angry- seas might float. Through God's high Avill they bore up 'neath the pall of the sudden dark, And we beat off Death Avhen he called for his due by the jaws of the ravening shark. The light came back and stirred again suspended nature's power. And woke us, lone in our hunger-pain, to the horror of the hour. Four days had gone — and a turtle gave his flesh to our hands for meat : And we shouted for joy 'neath the pleasant sun, and fought for the life that was sweet. We were three strong men and a little lad, who moaned as his eyes grcAv dim : " We shall soon see land," ah ! too Avell we kneAV, but we said no word to him ; For we loved the boy, and down in the boat in pain- racked dreams he lay. And as long as we might, from his fading sight we hid our fears away. 26 The Cithern. When our cry Avent up for the tempest shower, and we caught some drops of rain, On his baking lip, the precious sip we pressed again and again, "We count the days as we watch the sun : to left of our course he dips In the far-off sea, and to west by north, we steer for the track of the ships. We stripped our backs for the wherewitlial to rig our boat with a sail, And we prayed out loud in a horror of dread Avhen the dying light grew pale : Oh, God ! those long, long hours of the dark, Avhen slumber mocked despair With broken dreams of a feverish feast — yet hunger men can bear. Not thirst, not thirst ! not even Thy Son, who died upon the tree. Had parched thus long when He cried : " My God, why hast Thou forsaken me % " But once we quaffed the bitter draught of the rippling, scornful wave. It burned like fire — yet there beneath lay peace in an ocean "rave. A Terrible Tale of the Sea. 27 No woman's tremors shook our hearts that we should shrink for fear ; 'Twas for love of wife and tender babes the life God gave was dear. Days grew to weeks, till flesh and strength had fallen clean away : The sunk eyes gleamed from living forms that rotted in death's decay. We looked each other in the face as in a hideous glass, Where Cain's curs'd spirit bade each man behold the thing he was. I cannot tell of how it fell, for horror and for shame — How men go mad like famished beasts — and to that pass Ave came. I'd rend in twain this throbbing brain to forget it, if I could ! How we looked upon the dying boy and thirsted for his blood. He had drunk by night of the false, salt sea, whose poison burned in his veins ; And a helpless groaning heap he lay on the rack of his fever pains. 28 The Cithern. We heard him cry, " "We all shall die " — and the Captain muttered, 'Twcre best Draw lots, for 'twas hard that four should go, when one might save the rest. " "We will die together," cried one and all ; and he answered, " So let it be ; " But he whispered that night: "There are wives and babes to weep for you and me j And the boy is dying." — At break of day, no sail to bid us live : And the Captain prayed with a wild, hoarse cry : " God above, forgive." "We hid our faces, and shrunk away, with horror stricken dumb : But we knew he said 'to the orphan lad : " Kichard, your time is come." "What, me, sirl" "Yes, my son" — we heard, and knew what thing was done, And the sounds in our ears, like drops of fire, fell slowly, one by one. A moment stopped his innocent breath, he did not cry, nor strive, And, as the gushing life-blood streamed — enough — I am alive. A Terrible Tale of the Sea. 29 Ask me no more ! we have spoken truth, and earned the ban of crime : The laAv's slow torture bids us yet once more pass through that time — That time of hell ! — Can man compel from man such tale of AA^oe 1 While Mercy, shuddering, veils her face, and weejiing, bids us Go ! FOR ENGLAND AND THE RIGHT (April, 1878.) Britons, stirred at last to anger By the boast of tyrant might, Wake the trumpet's martial clangour, Cry, "For England and the right !'' Men of Britain, stand united All at one against the Russ ; Till the oppressor's wrong be righted, Till the despot bend to ns. Idly has his fury vaunted " Hearts of oak " decay in you ; Still Old England lives undaunted, Still her mettle's iron-true. Still a race her soil inherit Glad to die for duty's sake ; Still they bear the quenchless spirit Of her IsTelson and her Blake. For England and the Right. 3 i Shall we see the Cossack tread on Right of ours, submitting tame % While the hosts of Armageddon Cover earth with blood and shame % Never, till this land of Britain Sink beneatR her guardian sea, Till her story pause unwritten At thy death-shriek, Liberty ! Never, till we fall, divided, From the living truth of God ; Till a foeman's foot has bided. Undisturbed, on Albion's sod. Dare the world to pluck asunder Freedom's heirs arisen in might ; Lift a people's voice of thunder, Enuiand ! God defend the right ! VICTORIA VICTRIX. {.Tune, 1878.) "Why should England seek for allies? But let England do the right, Freedom's host around her rallies, Armed with truth and heavenly light. " Peace, if peace may stand with honour, Be our prayer and heart's desire ; But if Russia bring upon her War and havoc, sword and fire, " England will not pause from slaughter Till her rival, crushed and dumb, Drink of bitter shame like water. All resistance overcome." Thus an oracle hath spoken Forth the voice of England's brave ; Thus her heroes' souls have broken Through the silence of the grave. Victoria Vidrix. 33 Lives Old England's spirit only In a woman's bosom now, Though in widowed sorrow lonely Droops that golden-rounded brow % Yet wc have a Queen in Britain, And these Avords of truth among England's annals shall be written In the marble of our tongue. Lightning-winged speeds the answer From the children of the morn, 'Xeath the blood-fierce heat of Cancer To the battle bred and born. By the Lion creeps the Tiger, With the leash about his neck ; For the battle panting eager, Lo ! he spurns against the check. England knows no hand unsteady East and West could thus unite ; Eeady so, ay, ever ready, Britons stand upon their right ! FREDERICK GUSTAVUS BURNABY. Wherk the wellspvings of sweet water Pierce Bayuda's saudy sea, Surges up tlie sound of slaughter Hushed by shouts of victory ! England strikes a blow for empire O'er the farthest south and east, 'Gainst the life-devouring vampire, Slavery's fanatic priest : 'Gainst that false and perjured prophet "We are but a handful, flung For his dusky hordes to scoff at With the arrows of the tongue. Like a locust-cloud dark gathering Sweeps the countless desert host O'er the scared earth's bosom, Avithering All that breathes or lives, almost : Frederick Gustavus Burnaby. Halt and form ! our lost twelve hundred Side to side closed in their square, While the fierce Arabian wondered What destruction men may dare. Down on u^^, now hid, now springing Like a fountain from beneath, On they plunge, Avith weapons swinging, Lance from rest and sword from sheath. Down upon our lost twelve hundred Through our leaden hail they close, Pierce, and break our line, outnumbered Ten to one, by gallant foes. Saxon pluck, by no disaster Taught to yield, at handgrips met Death, and bade him know a master, Matching spear with bayonet. Dear the cost ! while backward speeding, Baffled, spent, the Bedouin flee, 'Xeath the stroke of battle bleeding, Down sinks gallant Burnaby. Never, bred for Britain's glory. Grander height or statelier girth, 'Mong her sons of ancient story Moved a giant on the earth. D 2 o 6 The Cithern. Who shall whisper Erin's daughter ? Who shall smite her -with a word Sharper than the spear — how slaughter Fell upon her soldier-lord % Though in joy and pride he won her, Though he loved fair Erin's child. From her side by radiant Honour Were the Avarrior's steps lieguiled : Who Avith hungering eye had sought hiii For his manhood's martial grace, Till that fatal morn she caught him lu a AA'ild and last embrace. In the grand old English fashion, In the ecstasy of strife, Fade the ruddy hues to ashen. Ebbs aAvay the noble life. God knoAA's best — ^no fairer portal Could release the heroic soul With the wreath of praise immortal CroAA^ned triumphant at the goal. Happier thus, ere daily AA-asting SloAV consume the life and breath, Till the spirit languish, tasting All the bitterness of death. Frederick Gustavns Burnaby. 37 By a strange, mysterious hoding, Long that gallant spirit knew Death impatient, ever goading Valour to attempt and do. Sure, most sure, in days of nature Briefer than our common time. Must that soul achieve her stature, Perfected in youth sublime. As the jewel from the casket, Light to higher light aspires ; Swift and bright as he would ask it, Fate fulfilled his heart's desires. From the Eastern sea soft breathing, Shall the desert winds enfold Wave on wave of sand, enwreathing Heights above that goodly mould. Of the battle and the slaughter. Fast by Abu Klea's spring. As they lead their flocks to water Shall the Arab shepherds sing : And the story shall be written On the page that cannot die, On the lip and heart of Britain : Thus fell gallant Burnaby ! GORDON. Oh, the Tvail of wrath and woe ! Oh, too late was struck the blow For our hero lying low, Gordon left alone to die ! Now may England veil her face 'Xeath the " indelible disgrace," He, the noblest of her race, Boded with despairing cry. Hope might perish, nature faint, Yet the soldier and the saint Bore aloft without a taint England's banner of the free. Great of heart, he went to save England's fame, and lift the slave From oppression's living grave, With the promise, Liberty ! Goi'don. 39 Life, as 'twere a worthless thing, On the dust he dared to fling, Passing, like a warrior king, On through death to victory ! His the glory, ours the blame Of the attempt broke off with shame : Xot with water, but with flame Flashes every English eye. Bleeding honour bids us on. Till the grave thy arm has won Plant beneath the southern siui Freedom's ensign, leal and true. There is hope yet, if we close, All as one man, to oppose Brother's vengeance 'gainst thy foes — Thus, with God's help, up and do ! vox POPULI." Lo, a voice of power has spokon througli tlic Islands of the sea, By the will of England's people making protest full and free — To the war-cry of disunion, to the fatal, feeble sound Of a whispered pact with treason, this the fitting answer found : " "We are Britons, men and brothers, many races blent in one ; We will hold the grand tradition of our might in union : With the life that God has given, with the strength of heart and hand, We will do our whole endeavour not for self, but motherland." Such the fixed resolve of millions, in the proud, triumphant hour Of the lowly new uprisen, of the toilers sprung to power : ''Fox Populi" 41 They have sense of England's honour, and the sturdy freemen scorn To desert the dear old Colours many a gallant son has borne. Every landmark of oppression, relic of a darker day, Could the arm of Britain's manhood "waved in thunder sweep away ; AVhat could gold avail, or reverence, or the trembling statesman's skill, Crushed beneath the iron hammer of an angry people's will % Not for right to live and labour, not for ease to patient want, Do the many rise in battle 'gainst the classes dominant : "We will wait," they answer nobly, "rather bar our righteous claim. Than consent to foes within us, 'gainst our nation's peace and fame." Sucli the men who liuilt an Empire in our farthest island home ; Such the will that baffled Caesar's, and defied the arms of Eome; Such the bowmen of our forests, such the shipmen stout and bold, Rovers free of ocean's pathways, of whose valour bards have told. 42 The Cithern. Such a band with their boy-licro bled at Crecy and Poictiers ; * Such have stood and strove undaunted in the fatal adverse day AVhen the stars liave fought against them, till they steeled their hearts to meet Pale despair and death as comrades, for they would not own defeat. These are worthy to be trusted with the birth-right of the free. These who eat the bread of labour, heirs of broader days to be : Bid them welcome, lords and princes, own them brothers leal and true : This is noblest in the noblest — deal as God has dealt with you. May the love of Queen and people wipe the tears and crimson stain Prom the drooping face of Erin, till our sister smile again ; May her foes, and ours, be scattered, and the whole world understand We are one, from earth-born peasant to the Lady of the land ! * Poictiers, as in French, to rhyme with day. MERCEDES. {July, 1878.) *' Thy fair young Queen is dead." No sharper word Has Fate to utter in a monarch's ear ; Nothing in life beyond that cry, once heard, Eemains to hope or fear. Woe, woe ! upon the land of golden skies The stroke of Heaven hath fall'n in scathful fire ! Spain's Prince and people bow with weeping eyes For loss of their desire. So young, so rich in joy and beauty — dead ! Oh, God ! the morrow of her natal day ; With bridal wreath unfaded on her head, Clay has returned to clay ! But yesterday fond lovers, heart in heart. Knit by the holy band of marriage ring, Thou and thy five months' wife thought not to part So soon — to-day, King ! 44 The Cithern. Borne to the dim Escxirial vault, beneath The fatal gate, corruption shall destroy Love's flower and fruit — the stern cold rival, Death, Possess thy dearest joy ! There, withering, the half-blown Eose of Spain Waits for her love — not lost, but gone before- — In God's own garden ye shall meet again, "Where pain shall be no more. Oh, live the worthier, for thou hast been blest ! Thy country be thy bride ! Thy pleasures now In a great people's happiness ! So best Youth's sorrow crowns man's Ijrow. THE PRINCESS ALICE. (December, 1878.) Gone to lier father ! through the winter snows, His voice from heaven has called her : " Alice, come ! This day I left thee, come, my child, to those Who live in God's own home." Pale sorrow from the rising of the sun Dimmed all his course o'er England's realms that day, Whose cry of anguish mourned their noblest one, Scarce known till ta'en away. For she loved much ; sweet love on earth is pain. Mingling brief ecstasy with many a tear ; Life lost for what it loves the heart counts gain Whose treasure is not here. She who received her father's parting sigh. And wrung from death her brother's soul by prayer, Spent o'er the wounded soldiers' agony Iler tender woman's care, 46 The Cithern. Forgot her own in sense of others' pangs, And, while her husband strove for fatherland, "With dire disease and fever's silent fangs She fought for her own hand ! The grave remembered her, and claimed his part, A lamb of her fair flock, her youngest joy, Whose brother's grief o'orcanie her — on her heart Too rash, she clasped her boy ! Death wooed her tenderly in that fond kiss Of mutual sorrow for their eyes' desire ; Thus her pure soul went forth to meet in bliss Albert the Good, her sire. Their lives were lovely — those whom God loves most Belong not to our day ; earth borroweth The fairest gems of heaven, too early lost, Unseparate in death ! THE LIVING GOLD. Spoke the lord of many lands To a lady wondrous fair : " Say, did young Aurora's hands Spin the day-beams for thy hair 1 Glory pales to shadows cold In their tender light of love, And their mesh of living gold Through and through my heart hath wove. " In my hitter days of life, Sweet my bride, thy golden head O'er the toils of power and strife One blest influence hath shed, Soothed to peace my troubled breast- Locks of love, ah ! when I die Deeper peace should seal my rest Could ye in my coffin lie." 48 The Cithern. Came his Avords fulfilled in death ; And that hair he loved so well, Her despairing hand heneath, Woman's crowning glory fell. Love that fails not to the dead, 'iSTeath the marble pale and cold, In the pillow for his head Laid those locks of living gold. PRESIDENT GARFIELD. (October Uh, 1881.) Feom the Royal seat of England Tender words for human pain Span the earth on wings of lightning, Pierce the wind-swept Western Main, Tell them in that house of sorrow Where they mourn their slaughtered chief, England's Queen, indeed a widow, Hath a portion in their grief. From the hour the death-stroke touched him, Days, weeks, months of pangs untold, While the undaunted spirit wrestled With corruption's serpent fold. Many a loving wife among us Thrilled in sympathy with one Ever near her husband's pillow, Hoping — though she hoped alone. 50 The Cithern. Hers the Avoe no thought can measure Nor the tongue's faint language tell, But the widowed heart of England Bleeds for sorrows known too well. To his God, the Christian warrior, Fearless, yields the immortal breath, More than conqueror, unmastered By the bitter pains of death. Of such heroes earth unworthy Sees their light with dazzled eyes. Till they sink to rest in glory. By their God-like sacrifice. While the heavens bow down to meet him, Bleeding from the murderer's hand. Both worlds shall rejoice that sorrow Bound them with a triple band. LILIAN ADELAIDE NEILSON. (September, 1880.) Gone to thy rest so early ! Has the rose Drooped on the stem, and yielded her sweet breath ? Art thou no more, fairest, hut as those Who fade in clay-cold death 1 Fame's burning lamp shone proudly on thy head But yesterday — now withered in thy bloom, The world's heart turns to sorrow for thee, dead And laid into the tomb. Thrice dear the laurel round the brow of youth ! By thy warm eloquent art thou hadst the spell To set before our eyes in living truth The saint-like Isabel, And wifely Imogen ; and the true faith Of Juliet, mystery of joy and woe, Who, living, dared the sepulchre's foul breath Forjier loved Romeo. E 2 52 TJic Cithern. Ten goklen years of triumph, in the light Of the workl's glory, and thy tale is told ; Closed are those wondrous eyes, before the night When patient grief grows old. Great silence fills thy place that knows thee not : Grace, beauty, passion, genius, have their day, But Shakespeare's child, a vision unforgot. Can never pass away. A GOOD PHYSICIAN. IN MEMORIAM, FRANCIS GOODCHILD. (March, 1883.) Though early dead, lie has not lived in vain Who earned kind thoughts from those who knew him best, The weary watchers by the bed of pain. Where hope came with him as a welcome guest. As with unwearying step and quiet calm He went upon his round from door to door. His cheering words and pleasant ways left balm To ease the sorrowful, the sick, the poor. This was his mission — now the bow o'erwrought. That bore so long, has broken on the strain ; Hundreds of eyes are dimmed, and tongues have naught But praise for him. — Is such a death no gain? 54 T^i^ Cithern. Ay, for how few they are whose mortal years Shall live, prolonged by memories so sweet ; The children ask for him, who soothed their fears. And drew their little steps about his feet. And now the toiler rests from labour — deep The slumber falls upon his painless breath ; The Lord of Life gives His beloved sleep, To bid us know how beautiful is death. MR. WILSON BARRETT AS CLAUDIAN. Art has its wonders, and the scenic glass Bent on the world's light fashions as they pass Can mirror noble lives of god-like men, "WTien genius fires and nature guides the pen. The old heroic heights of tragic power Yield to the daring poets of the hour. And Claudian lives before us ! Earthly pride In strength, and wealth, and power, personified ; His scorn of others' woe, of living truth, The punishment he bore : eternal youth ; Repentance known too late, that fondly sought By doing good to atone for evil wrought, And self-abhorring 'neath the bitter cross : So, out of sin's corruption and foul dross, God's chastening hand draws forth the eternal gem, A soul redeemed to fill His diadem. So Claudian, the accurst, is taught to rise From brutish lust to pure self-sacrifice ; 56 The Cithern. Tempted and tried by women's dearest love, He rends his heart in twain, to seek above Pardon and peace, and smiling, tells pale Death : " I see — I know," and yields to God his breath. Such is the man who lives before our eyes — Sins, suffers, and repents, and grandly dies ; If this be art, this is the highest, best, That stirs the conscience in each human breast. Passing through passion up to truth sublime. The Drama's noblest imatre of our time. MORNING LIGHT. (For my Godchildren, Daisy and May.) Father, -while my soul is white, Do Thou on my memory write Words of truth in morning light. Thou whose praise the angels sung, When the stars on high were swung, Keep my heart and rule my tongue ; That no false or cruel word From a breast with envy stirred On these lips be ever heard. Earthly father, mother dear, With the angels watch me here. From all danger keep me clear. Near Thy throne, with Thy dear Son, Suffer me, Thy little one. Ere my battle has begun. Teach me, in my early day, How to trust Thee all my way, How to love and how to pray. WAT TYLER. (A.D. 1381.) O English hearts, inclined To the weak against the strong, Will ye hear me, a Saxon woman. The child of an earth-horn yeoman, Tell a tale of wrath and wrong 1 We were sprung from the land's old race By the Nornipn dispossessed. But my sire was stout and brave ; Of the measure of life God gave His hand woidd make the best. Through Essex his smithy was knrwn, In the days when Eichard our King, That is slain so traitorously, Was a youth of like years with me, A maid in my flower of spring. Wat Tyler. 59 And the Koyal boy was beloved As the great Black Prince's heir, Whose bride was the Maid of Kent, The pearl of our English descent — Joanna, the proud and fair. But the cruel wars enforced Our tribute of blood and tears ; A tax Avas laid upon all The people, both great and small, From the age of fifteen years. From each was the hard-earned coin Compelled ; but in sullen rage. My father, the sturdy smith, Kefused my tribute, sith I was yet of tender age. So the taxers bade mo stand forth. And they judged me woman grown : I Avas tall of stature, and lithe As the bending Avillow Avithe By the breath of the morning bloAvn. I felt a rough, rude hand That Avas tAvistcd in my liair ; My kerchief plucked off; and then To the gaze and scorn of men Did they show my bosom bare. 6o The Cithern. They mocked my -writhing shame And tlio scarlet flush of my cheek ; That the cry of curdling blood From the heart of my womanhood "Went up in one bitter shriek. There Avas help in the strong right hand, Eevenge in the eyes afire : The blur of my Avomanhood That instant was washed in blood By the mighty smith, my sire. One stroke of his hammer came down And smote the ruffian dead ; I fell on his bosom, safe : I felt his fingers chafe My hot and sinking head. Like the hop-vine 'bout the pole Her creeping clusters flings. The sweep of my hair unbound In fiery flashes round My father's body clings. The people's voice rose up With a ringing cheer, " Well done ! " The lion was roused, and woke At the fall of that hammer's stroke With a roar of revolt begun. Wat Tyler. 6i " To arms ! " cry the men of Kent ; " No tyrants shall crush us down ! " Like waves of fire borne hither, From the north and east they gather To march on London town. My father, the dauntless smith, On that sea of wrath was borne ; I clung to his bosom, fast As the shipboy to the mast From the wave-swept wreckage torn. Full many a barbarous deed I, shuddering, saw that hour, When the surge from the earth uprose O'er the God-forsaken foes That were left in the people's power. The noble had spurned the wolf While he crouched behind the door; But now, o'er a land of death The proud lay strewn beneath The vengeance of the poor. That time, on a pilgrimage To Canterbury went A widow and sorrowing, The mother of the King, She who was the Fair Maid of Kent. 62 The Cithern. She who was the rose of love On the hrcast of our gallant Black Prince, Our hope death-stricken so young; Ah, woe ! for the havoc and wrong That have vexed fair England since ! Our tryst was on Blackheath ; One hundred thousand there Had swelled to a rabble rout, That thundered with threatening shout At sight of that Princess fair. Through their midst she Avas fain to pass With her maids, and her henchmen true To shield her from treason's breath ; But the crowd rose strong as death And o'erbore those faithful fcAV. Then, sturdy and overbold, Wat Tyler seized her waist : The cheek Avhose roseate bloom Had drooped o'er Edward's tomb The ruffian strove to taste. She turned and faced her fear, Her dove-like eyes aflame ; " I was Edward's wife," she said, " For the sake of our hero dead Let me perish untouched by shame ! " Wat Tyler. 6 Then my father, the gallant smith, Fell low upon his knee : " My life for your name and fame ; Is not virtue in Queens the same As m maidens of low degree % " Bat say you are of one blood With the children of want and toil. On my forehead's grime and sweat, You, lady, lips may set. Unscathed by taint or soil." Kneeling, he kisses her hand, And she stooped her queenly height ; Her sweet lips did him grace, For in my father's face Spoke the heart of a loyal knight. Harmless, he bore her through From the wrathful people's power ; One moment he stemmed the flood, Whose fury imwithstood Swept ouAvards to the Tower. A hell of blood and fire Broke forth and drank its fill, Till the awful stones were red. And many a lordly head Had fallen to the cry, " Kill, kill ! " o 64 The Cithern. Wat Tyler, the rebel chief, Trod London 'neath his heel ; 'Twas then the King rode forth, To sweep him off the earth Witli knightly arm of steel. Heroic Edward's son Rose at the godless band. And fury armed his youth To chase and kill without ruth The wolf from off the land. Wat Tyler slain at his feet, Avenged a mother's fears : • There was death in the wrathful groan Of the crowd — till Richard, alone, Came forth to the mutineers. " My people," the sovereign spake, "What means this murmuring? Are ye vexed for your leader dead % Nay, I'll be your leader, your head, Your chief — I am your King ! " And of his Royal grace, He restored our ancient laws. Our liberties — our rights — With pardon to each who fights Upon that sacred cause. IVa^ Tyler. 65 He is dead by uur tyrants' hands — ■ But his deeds shall never die, Till manhood, broken tame, Set light by England's fame In her women's purity. CASSANDRA. (Founded on the "Agamemnon" of JEschylus.) A LIGHT of glory o'er the purple seas Furrows the waters of the Cyclades ; Lo, westward, in Hyperion's radiant track, A tall-prowed ship towards Argos bearing back The conqueror, Agamemnon, King of men, Who through the summer heat of harvests ten Wearied and bled before the walls of Troy Now level with the dust ; so, with great joy Homeward he steers, possessed of his desire, Or ere the midday glow of passion's fire Had 'bated of its strength, or 'gun to wane 'JSTeath the cold touch of age or stress of pain. 'Midst spoil past count, the riches of his ship, Captive Cassandra sits, with quivering lip. Shrinking beneath his gaze for shame, and ruth To know and utter the abhorred truth. Cassandra. 67 I. 1. AGAMEMNON. Look in my eyes that plead with thee ; Give me thy heart, mine own, be not afraid Of Love, whose arrows wonnded me With yearning after my prophetic maid. Why dost thou shrink and start so wild ? CASSANDRA. Am I not slaughtered Priam's child % To what dark fate dost lead me forth, King % AGAMEMNON. To love and honour, evwything Thy dearest wish can dream of. CASSANDRA. Say'st thou so % Nay, rather in the depth of woe, Treacherous snare and bloody grave, Blindly thou fall'st, and I — must follow thee, thy slave. L 2. AGAMEMNON. Priestess, what art thou raving of % My royal palace shall thy temple be. Can I forget the taste of love Alone with thee upon the lonely sea % F 2 68 The Cithern. CASSANDRA. Can I forget tlie awful light Kindling our nuptial torch that night, When thou and I by fraud and force were wed % When Furies strewed our marriage bed Upon the smouldering ashes of my home % I saw my wretched mother come, A corpse-like form, down to the sea, To shriek a wild farewell and look her last on me. I. 3. AGAMEMNON. Cannot my love and sovereign sway Charm harsh memories awayl Hath not the envied name of wife Knit thee to thy master's life % CASSANDRA. And will the gods forget That hideous spousal, nor my wrong repay % My prayer for vengeance though my lip unsay. Their justice will accomplish yet ; Though I be humbled, tame, Yielding to pardon shame, And all my being cling In sorrow for thy fate to thee, my King ! Why didst thou spare to slay Me, hallowed maid, nor suffer me to rest Cassand7'a. 69 With godlike Hector, and fair Paris, whom To love Avas mortal doom % Lo, here I cast my crown away, And rend the sacred robe upon my breast, Thus, thus ujDon the scattering whirlwind driven, Perish this once pure form, by murder rent and riven ! 11. 1. AGAMEMNON. Thou canst not sever from my fate By augury of evil-boding breath ; Thee will I hold, my chosen mate. In love's strong fetters, or in bonds of death. Lives there within my subject land The man can Avrest thee from my hand? CASSANDRA. Woe worth the day ! ah, whither do we go % J^ot to thy royal home, no, no ! Mock not the gods, nor make the queen thy wife The keeper of thy days of life ; For woman's love and hate are strong To breed prolific hate and answer wrong with wrong. II. 2. AGAMEMNON. Come not her name between us ! Let Pond trust outweigh thy fantasy o'erwrought ; Why dost thou strive within the net Limed like a bird, a wild thing newly caught % yo The Cithern. CASSANDRA. Wilt lure me with deceitful vows Into that human slaughter-house, "\Miere thy forsaken lioness has lain With the foul wolf, until they twain Are one in guilt, and she makes sharp the sword A woman, 'gainst her wedded lord ; Thee, thee, my master, will she smite, Yea, for my bringing home with thrusts of steel requite ! 11. 3. AGAMEMNON. Have I not poAver on thee, my thrall, r, who chose thee, best of all Triumphant Grecia's home-bound fleet Cast before her leader's feet ! Art thou not radiant fair, That spurned the sun-god's love % Shall I forego jMy will and pleasure, I, the King, who know Thy beauty worth the world I dare ! CASSANDRA. Woe, woe ! within thy gate Thou leadest me, thy Fate ; By retribution strange I follow thee, a Fury to avenge The slaughter of my race ; Victorious, among my foes I come, Urged by the gods, a weapon to fulfil Their curse, against my Avill. Cassandra. 7 1 AVoulJst thou the child of death embrace, Suck aspic's poison in the kiss of love % Nay, cast me to the shades beneath, for I Am last of Priam's blood, and I too dare to die ! III. 1. AGAMEMNON. Live, live, sweet guest ! to bring delight Like warmth in Avinter to thy master's hearth, And pay with jocund hours of mirth Ten wasted years of toil and desperate fight ; Eid me forget the past, to sip The future on thy glowing lip ! CASSANDRA. Oh, thou wilt not believe me ! foe and friend Reject my warning to the end ! My cry of horror for the woes hereafter Provokes thy scorn and mocking laughter ; In vain some strange, relenting charm Asks my last drop of blood to shield thy life from harm, III. 2. What fire of doom has lit mine eye? A woman's hand, false and adulterous. As prey for slaughter meshes us — Not without honour from the gods we die ! To thee I pray, all glorious sun I nevermore shall look upon. 72 The Cithern. By this, for mc, thy last, last sinking light, On my foul murderers requite Mine, a slave's death, with liis, I mourn and pity Far, far beyond my native city; For death to misery is kind, And thou from kingly state f all'st like the deaf and hlind ! III. 3. Closed Avere her lips, the awful weird Glanced upon his ear unfeared ; While through the thickening dark of night Torches flashed from height to height The tale of victory O'er fallen Troy ; frum Ida's loftiest peak The news did mountain unto mountain speak By fire across th' iEgean sea ; Till Argos saAv, amazed. And Clytemnestra gazed Upon the heavens ashine With beacon flames, and knew the appointed sign. Her smooth, caressing tongue Could rouse the sleeping Furies on their prey ; While blinded Agamemnon by her side Walked like a god in pride, Her arms about his neck she flung To hide the steel her hand had clutched to slay, Troy's daughter died avenged : from out one grave Their blood cried up to heaven, the King beside his slave. PUDENS AND CLAUDIA. Under the reign of Nero, a.d. 57, Pomponia Grajciua, wife of Aulas Plautius — who, upon his return from Britain, entered the city in ovation — was accused of "foreign superstition," and committed to the judgment of her husband and family, who pro- nounced her innocent. She lived many years, wearing no habit but mourning, and in continual sadness, which ultimately re- dounded to her honour. (Tacitus, Annales, lib. xiii., ch. xxxii.) Claudia, wife of Aulus Pudens, was a British princess con- nected by family ties with Pomponia Graecina. (2 Timothy iv. 21.) POMPONIA. And is it thou, my daughter, that art fain To weep in loving arms 1 "What aileth thee, Blest as a wife and motlier 1 In thy pain Why dost thou seek me 1 CLAUDIA. My hushand — Aulus — from ray soul is torn By ISTero's ruthless hand — condemned to lie Beneath the arena's pit of blood till morn — Ay, and he must die ! 74 ^/^^ Cithern. POMPONIA. A blessed martyr ! Shall thy heart despair, Yielding thy treasure unto God in faith % Your souls are one in Ilini — immortal paii", Why should ye fear death 1 CLAUDIA. Come, Death, take both together — oh, my heart ! Life without him — 'tis more than I can bear I Entreat our Father that we may not part ; Pity me — mal^e prayer. POMPON lA. iS^ay, leave it in His hands, nor death nor life Can part ye long ; but I have lived estranged Beneath my husband's roof, no more his wife, Parted, and heart-changed. My hero — how I worshipped him ! Too fond. My life's one passion to its idol clove ; God had not joined us in an equal bond : That is the true love. The light from heaven he knew not ; cold and blind, My joy he loathed, my hope he could not see, But heard the slanderer's tongue, the evil mind. Testify 'gainst me. Pudens and Claudia. 75 CLAUDIA. But did he not absolve thee, wlicn tliy home Was turned to a tribunal, and thy kin, For worshii? alien to the gods of Eomc, Charged thee with strange sin % POMPONIA. His lip was bold and faithful to proclaim Mine innocence, and from the lion's tooth Keep my pure bodj'', and restore my name Tainted for God's truth. The foes of mine own hou^se he held at bay ; My life and fame were safe within his door : Eut ever since that unforgotten day, Saw'st thou me smile more % CLAUDIA. True, true, thou liv'st a martyr, saint of God ! Though they had torn my body limb by limb, I could have borne 't, resisting unto blood, So they had spared him. My soul's beloved — on the day I stood, A trembling captive, by my father's side, In yon dread forum — he, the brave, the good, Chose me his strange bride. 76 The Cithern. A British maid, the spoil of Eoman swords, The conquered daughter of Caractacus : — They thrill my ears e'en now, the few sweet words Whispered between us. Was all in vain % ]My father's overthroAv, My country's chains] Would God that Britain's shore Had hounded in our mingled lives, to know Never desire more, Beyond the beauty of the sea and land, And K"ature's treasures there so richly given, It seemed as if the great Creator's hand Made of our earth, heaven. POMPOXIA. Hast thou forgot, thou comest of a race Foredoomed of Heaven to rise by truth sublime O'er heathen Rome triumphant, in her place Chosen for all time % Know'st not the daughter of a King thou art, AVhose spirit taught the Roman to revere The captive 'neath his foot, too great of heart Ever to see fear % No iron chain could bnid him — was't for naught A Briton looked on Caisar's face unawed % Dwelt 'mongst his foes in honour, and Avas taught Wisdom to see God % Pudens and Claudia. yy He bears the message of no earthly Lord To Britaiu's utmost verge, with mastery O'er fate and passion, mightier than the sword. Setting the soul free. Thou art his child ; and if thy heart of woman, Plucked from its roots of love, be cast, alone, God's chosen Aveapon 'gainst the fierce-browed Eoman , Why should'st thou make moan 1 CLAUDIA. God, our time of joy — our wedded home Upon Thy earth the happiest and most blest, Where all Thy children in this awful Kome Clustered and round rest ! Our dear, dear home, where never breath of strife Troubled our love's first fragrance, since we clung, Strong tree, frail flower, the husband and the wife, Together, both young. Graft to a stem of heroes, I have borne To thee, mine own, most fair and precious fruit Of lovely cliildren — who shall help us, torn Off from our lives' root 1 Ah blind ! that day thy god-like kinsman, Paul, By ISTero's bloodhounds from our hearth was reft, 1 thought not we should hear that dreadful call : One taken — one left ! The Cithern. POMPONIA. Women have looked upon the sons they bore Dying in torment, and the mother's voice Has bade their quivering flesh endure the more, "Whispering of heaven's joys. CLAUDIA, But I am weak — my grief Avill cry and strive — Father ! can I be Tliy chikl forgiven, Most miserable now of things that live, Happiest, yestereven % POMPONIA. ^ Endure and conquer ! 'neath the stroke that mars The beauty of yoi:r lives, canst thou not trust Thy darling to the hand that made the stars, Passing, as man must, Through nature's anguish to the light etcrne ; Yet flashing back to earth from heaven a ray Of quenchless hope that evermore shall burn. Making the night day % And though a sharper sword than death shall sever One flesh of God united, ask not what Thy bleeding heart shall rest on — but for ever Trust Him, and fear not ! Pttdens and Clattdia. 79 CLAUDIA. I would do SO — look, look ! the morning sun — I liear the cry for blood — the lions' roar — The hour is come — my true and loving one — Never to meet more ! It cannot be — the light of day turns dim — The ice of death with life's hot current wars Curdling about my heart — each shuddering limb Sinks like a dead corse ! POMPONIA. Claudia, come back ! Dost hear % A cry of doom Rouses the city's sleep — lift up thy head, Thy husband lives — the curse has passed from Rome : J^ero is dead ! CLAUDIA. Dead! THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR. (Founded on the Picture hy Paul Delaroche.) As the world's dread lord, in earth's highest place, Sat the last of the Caesars' Liiperial race, Domitian — o'er a sea of blood In the face of heaven and earth he stood, And lifted his head as Lord and God. With heart of hate and with trembling limb Men kissed the dust as they worshipped him. The pomp and Inst of his golden home Were fed by the noblest beauty of Eome, And maid and wife, at his beck and call. Of the whole world's fairest Avere gathered all, While Eoman husband and sire stood, tame, By the death of honour, and kncAV no shame. And yet, beneath his all-licensed power One radiant girl, like an opening flower, The CJu'istian Martyr. 8i In her pure and heavenly beaiity sprung, And wisdom, strange in one so young ; All the glory and pride of her princely birtli Were accounted as naught to her o\yn true worth. Sweet Julia ! those were days of joy When we grew together as girl and boy, Till with a power thou knew'st not of. Thy charms, unconscious, around me wove - The deep mysterious spells of love. And mine was the crown of earthly bliss To seal thee with the betrothal kiss. Thy lover Claudius : even now. With sinking heart and shooting brow I can hear afar her murmured vow. Of my wondrous chance, of her beauty's fame. To Caesar's court the rumour came ; On his weary throne Domitian heard With quickening pulses, envy-stirred, And longings seized him to feed his eye On the loveliest form in Italy. A shriek of 'wildered pain and affright Went up to heaven at dead of night. Then Julia bows her head to weep Like some wild creature surprised in sleep, And through her pulses pale shudderings creep. 82 The Cithern. Ey fraud and force the maid o'ereome, Is borne before the tyrant of Rome ; The lust and menace of his eye She meets with answer : " I dare to die." But who shall answer the slanderous blur Of a whispered breath that hath tainted herl With a lover's passion jealous, rash, I saw her writhe 'neath the false tongues' lash, And to snatch her pure from the serpent's hiss, I found, despairing, no way but this : " AVe are Christians, Caesar, she and I : We will pass through death to liberty." So I spoke to Doniitian, eye to eye. The people heard — and a mighty yell " To the lions ! " broke from the mouth of hell Where the awful walls and pillars stood Kound the sands compact Avith human blood, Where the slaughter of men makes common sport For the Roman rabble and Roman court, And their women's eyes o'er the feast of gore Burn fierce with joy, as the surge and roar Of the many thousands rise up for " more ! " As in the valley of death I stand, With my promised bride, on the fatal sand, The Christian Marty7\ 83 Methinlcs I sweep witli searching eye From tier to tier, wliere safe and high, The broadening circles met the sky, And wave above wave, the whole vast space Was filled like a sea witli the human face. As the whirlpool clutclies the sinking ship They hurled their prey to the lion's grip ; Then close to Julia's side I clung, And horror and pity loosed my tongue To plead for mercy : " Set her free \ Unbar your lions' dens on me ! " She lifted her eyes to Caesar's seat, And their speechless prayers for my life entreat — His muttered whisper swift replies : "Both may live yet — thou know'st the price." She knew — I saw her white cheek flush With the virgin blood's indignant rush — A crash of iron — a sudden spring — And my limbs stood locked and shuddering ; A lion faced me with sullen roar. And bristling hairs attaint with gore ; I knew his hungry eyes on mine. And the eager arch of his quivering spine — G 2 84 The Cithern. Beneath his deadly rush we fell — And what came after, I cannot tell — I felt the monster sniff and stir, And with ray body I shielded her. We were left for dead together, till The stars bore witness, calm and still, Of man's fierce lust to rend and kill. The lion had spared her — the hot sand's tliirst Was slaked from my veins by the keen teeth pierced ! She rose to her feet at my living cry, And called the Christians Avatching nigh To comfort the victims to live or die. Like the wretch exhausted on the rack I had dreamed of succour — she came not back — I was found, alive, on the blood- steeped sands, And borne away by pitying hands ; But of her they knew not — as in a dream, I wandered down by the Tiber's stream- — Upborne and lifted from my bed Wliither hope's delirious fancy led — And lo ! beneath pale Hesper's gleam, Wliite shadows drifting down the stream — I knew her face by the halo shed Above the virgin martyr's head — The CJwistian Martyr. 85 I saAV it all — Domitian founil His victim 'scaped, and she was drowned By his revenge — her hands were bound. I, Claudius, paid him ! Is 't need to tell By what slave's death Domitian fell % The scourge of God, the curse of Eome, Domestic treason compassed his doom ; But this was the hand that struck him home ! EZEKIEL (Ch. xxiv., V. 16.) EZEKIEL. No more ! for I am man — the God of heaven Has shivered at a stroke my cup of bliss ; No word of her, my wife who died last even, jSTo look — no parting kiss: For I must do a hard and dread command, And utter forth a voice in words of fire Out of my heart, bruised by His heavy hand Wlio took my eyes' desire. Be the cold earth a pillow for her head Warm from my breast, my bride of yester-year, Reft with the promise of our marriage beel — And I must shed no tear ! AN ELDER OF ISRAEL. son ! what means that awful look of stone ? Death is within thy guestchamber ; the cry Of women breaketh forth with bitter moau, And yet thy eyes are dry. Ezekiei. 8y Wilt thou not say, Avhat arc those things to us Of the captivity 1 for some dark truth Speaks through thy every act, who bearest tlius The blasting of thy youth, EZBKIEL. Thou sayest well ; through me the Eternal Word Speaks to the House of Israel by a sign : The hearts of all this people shall be stirred With greater wcie than mine. When Zion's beauty, by the Chaldecs' host Profaned, shall be polluted and abhorred ; Your sons, your daughters, all your soul loves most, The harvest of the sword. And ye who listen now by Chebar's stream As to a singer's very lovely voice. Holding my words no weightier than a dream Wliich waking sense destroys, Ye too shall read aright this life of mine That showeth forth to what yourselves must come ; Then shall Ezekiei be to you a sign, My deeds no longer dumb. A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL. And what hast thou to do with love of woman Or hope of sons, thou stern and awful seer, AAliose heart of adamant no passion human, No pity knows, nor fear 1 88 The Cithern. To thee was given her tender virginhood In this strange land to build thee up a home ; Yet, to fulfil a dream, thou sawest good To strike thy tent and roam. The hard, rough life was more than she could bear ; Yet never murmuring, 'neath thy cruel eye She sank beside the Avay, in wan despair, To travail and to die. Thy kiss fell deadly as the adder's tooth Upon that love-warm bosom — mortal sleep Seals up those purple lids — and thou, forsooth, Canst neither moan nor weep ! BZEKIEL. Daughter of Zion, canst not understand This misery beyond all common woe % Jerusalem's Prince, thy people and thy land, This day, the like shall know. What are our single sorrows % Let them eat The kindly bread of comfort, who can pour The parting tears on the beloved feet That may not enter more. I bear the burthen of a nation's sin. Living my life far bitterer than death, Since God from that sweet flesh hath gathered in His spirit and His breath. Ezekiel. 89 A\'hy will you bruise the broken lieart 1 Even now The pang has passed — and. she has done Avith pain ; Shall not death's mystery, though wc knoAV not how, Knit soul to soul again % The house of silence to my feet shall ope The doors of Eden, that lost Paradise, The promise of a memory and a hope Not seen with fleshly eyes. Farther than foot of man has ever trod, Wliere souls are borne to everlasting rest. My love shall meet me in the garden of God, Her babe upon her breast. A PRINCE OP ISRAEL. Fond, patient fool ! What profit shalt thou have For all thy joy and honour cast away"? Look'st thou beneath for pleasures in thy grave, When thou hast done thy day % What is this God, that we should worship Him, Who dwells in darkness silent and afar ] Have heaven's bright lights before our eyes waxed dim In sun and moon and star ] Lo ! we, the servants of a God unseen, Must spend our strength upon the strangers' land We made that God our trust — and we have been Sold captives to their hand : 90 The Cithern. While tliey, the haughty lords of Babylon, With pomps and pleasures fill her cloud-girt towers ; Then turn like them thy eyes to yonder sun And say, " Their gods be ours ! " EZEEIEL. Mark me, thou scorner ! now, even now, this day, Babylon's Prince, the mighty King of Kings, Standeth before the parting of the way, An eagle with great wings. By flight of arrows falls the lot, on whom The rushing thunder of his swoop shall light ; Ho ! for Jerusalem ! the sign of doom Points onward towards the right. Take off the crown, remove the diadem, Thou evil King of Judah, for this day, The sword of vengeance in Jerusalem Is lord, to smite and slay. And you, her alienated race, Avho feed On shame among the heathen, you, even you, Corrupt, stiff-hearted sons, in very deed. Shall prove my words are true. A PRINCE OP ISRAEL. Is this to me 1 Thou boastful, railing priest, The King of Babylon, my sovereign lord, Holds all our lives, the greatest and the least, Upon his breath and word. Ezekiel. 9 1 Prophesy not of evil things, nor dare To whisper aught against the gods he serves, Lest on thyself his wrath descend, nor spare The sword thy speech deserves. EZEKIEL. enemy of truth ! I knoAv thy Avill To quench tlie spirit of God, the word I bear; Yet what is life to me, if hate can kill, That I should greatly care % In heaven and earth I fear no other than The One I saw upon the sapphire throne, A vision of fire in likeness of a man ; Him I have heard and known. Should I draw back my feet from snares of death, Whose joy is dark, but for this certain trust : The Lord of life accomplisheth His faith To them who sleep in dust \ Behold ! our graves shall open at His word ; The winds shall breathe His breath upon the slain. Till the dried bones of rottenness be stirred. And Israel live again ! A DAUGHTER OK ISRAEL. master, thou art wise and apt to weave In wondrous language thy prophetic song ; Almost thou canst beguile our hearts that grieve To bear their bitter wronfr. 92 The Citheini. But say, wilt thou lift up tlic brow of shame, Give back our husbands and our little ones, All that Ave loved, devoured by sword and flame, Or dashed against the stones % While Ave, their murderers' spoil, must tune to mirth Our voice of Aveeping, at the harsh command Of those who make us viler than the earth, Slaves in this alien land. Shall Ave be patient % Can our liearts endure, Thus panting sore athirst for their revenge % Then let it come like Israel's curse — as sure, As horrible, as strange ! BZKKIEL. Woman, thy sorrow passes not the sum Of Avoe, thy birthright from thy mother Eve ; Yet to thy pain the balm of tears may come, The ease to cry and grieve : Not for the man Avhose soul and flesh are Avrung By thankless Israel is such fond relief ; Dumb misery's gall must Avither up my tongue, And lips o'erfraught Avith grief. AN ELDER OP ISRAEL. Speak'st thou no Avord of hope ? Will God destroy From under heaven and blot out our name, Or shall Ave live to fill the isles Avith joy, That have not heard His fame % EzekieL 93 EZEKIEL. Yea, thus it shall be, mou of mocking spooch : " I pray you come and hear what is the word Of prophecy " — ye mutter each to each — " That Cometh from the Lord," Much love my people show me with their mouth. And sit and listen to the minstrel's strain, The while their hearts within them burn with drouth Of foul dishonest gain. Yet though He scatter them like ashes cast Upon the winds of heaven, they shall dwell Once more upon the mount His strength set fast, The Rock of Israel : His living witness 'mong the sons of men With showers of blessing, till the stars wax'old, And in His likeness we shall waken, when New heaven and earth unfold ! NEBUCHADNEZZAR. I, Nebuchadnezzar, King of kings, Now Lord once more of all earthly things, Lift up mine eyes to the God of heaven, By whom mine honour and might were given. My Chaldees and captains seek unto me ; For my kingdom's glory and majesty While I live are mine — and beside me, none May sway the sceptre in Babylon ; Not Evil-Merodach, my son. My mind is come back, that wandered, lost, Since I walked in pride, and made my boast, I had built this city at mine own cost. Stand by my bed, thou Hebrew youth. Whom fear nor favour could turn from truth : Dismiss the rest — I have lived my life — But call Nitocris, the Prince's wife, And Belshazzar, the heir to a realm of strife. Nebuchadnezzar. 95 Let them hear nie speak — 'twill not be for long — Time Avas, these sinews, lithe and strong, Bore down the lion turned to bay : They shall soon be made corruption's prey. Even now I struggle, and gasp for breath, At handgrips with the hunter, Death. Is this Nitocris % Child, set thou My hand on thy Belshazzar's brow. And mark me — nearer — mine eyes are dim — So the evil to come may be turned from him ! NITOCRIS. My King, my father, what words arc these? My boy asks a blessing at thy knees ! NEBUCHADNEZZAR. I sprung in strength from a feeble sire, Who lent me power to my heart's desire ; And launched me like a thunderbolt On the subject nations who dared revolt ; ^he God of the Jews gave into my hands The Prince and nobles of their lands, Whom I sent to Babylon bound with bands ; And I had my will and wildest wish Upon Egypt's hosts at Charchemish. 96 The Cithern. My fallicr dying, I sat alone Solo sovereign Lord on his royal tlirono. ^[y -will was law — who questioned me ? But my spirit Avas troubled Avith woes to be. When with closed eyes on my bed I lay A vision of horror stood there alway, Till sleep broke from me, and memory lost Each sight by thick-coming changes crossed, And left me with a sense of pain For loss to my race and my kingdom's wane Imprinted on my burning brain, Xot a man on earth could show this thing To any ruler, lord or king, N'one but the gods who dwell on high — So all my Avise men made reply. And in my fury I ga\'e command To slay them all from the face of the land, And thou too, Daniel, Avert brought to die — But my frenzy yielded beneath thine eye. When thou didst recall my dream, I kncAv, Remembering all, thy Avords Avere true ; And calm and patient, I heard thee say How my life's long labour should pass aAvay ; And now I see, Avhat thou didst unfold. My likeness in that head of gold ; Nebuchadnezzar. 9 7 By the silver arms and breast, I know The kingdom of my Persian foe, Wliosc gathering hosts, thougli less than mine, AVith their chariots and anus of silvern shine, Shall smite and spoil my royal line. And the thighs and body of In'ass bespeak The day of the brazen-coated Greek, Avenger of fallen Babylon ; For the empire of earth shall ever be won, As the peoples rise, in the path of the sun. The feet of iron and miry clay, A fierce, yet broken power betray, Who shall plough on the earth and the ocean foam The name, scarce whispered yet, of^Rome. I saw, tni a stone, cut out without hands. Broke up those kingdoms to desert sands ; Gold, brass and iron were no more But chaff of the summer threshing floor. Swept far away in the wild wind's mirth, And the stone that smote them filled tlie earth. To me, the King, thy God made known His secret purpose liy this stone ; Xo kingdom on earth shall stand but His own. And low upon my face did I fall. And on my right hand set thee, my thrall, That didst understand and interpret all. H 9 8 The Cilkej'Hn NITOCRIS. A wife — a mother — 'twere mine to rue The day that should prove thy saying true. DANIEL. And I, God's prophet, bid thee restore The heirs of Judah's house, before Their wrongs come home to thine own door. NKBUCHADXEZZAR. "Was I an oppressor, to seek my dues Of ancient tribute from the Jews, Which their King did impiously refuse 1 My vassal, thrice conquered, who bore unawed The name I gave him, " Justice of God," I, Jehovah's sword and iron rod. Like a lion's spring was my manhood's rage — Ah, Daniel, my son, no touch of age Had changed thee yet to a bearded sage I "VVas I not just % that found no room For mercy in a traitor's doom, Who clave to the way his fathers trod Of foul revolt against their God, And brought those woes to pass, foretold Against their city by prophets of old. God's purpose was fulfilled on them. When I laid straight siecje to Jerusalem. Nebuchadnezzar. 99 Two years my leaguer they withstood, Till my slings and arrows were drunk with blood ; And burnt with hunger, devoured with heat, Of the children's flesh did the fathers eat. Ere the stubborn necks would bow to defeat. DANIEL. The tender woman in want so sore Could slay and feed on the babe she bore. And curse with her eye those lips whose kiss Had brought such fruit of love as this. To thirst for the blood that was hers and his. NEBUCHADXEZZAR. The city fell to my assault ; God dealt according to their fault "With king and priest made captive there. For by His name I had made them swear ! DANIEL. Thy work that day was rash and hot : I pray, to thy charge He may lay it not. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. Was I cruel % by Eiblah's stream I see the shadows pass on like a dream : Above, upon my glorious throne A conquering King, I sit alone, H 2 TOO The Cithern. And wheeling past my feet below, My armM hosts, with sword and bow, Like mighty rivers glittering flow. Up unto heaven above me rings The sound of harps with many strings, And shout of men : " flail. King of kings ! " There to be judged, my archers led Judah's pale Prince, and on his head We passed a rebel's sentence dread. Was I cruel ] before his face I crushed the buds of his evil race : Those false eyes looked their last upon The quivering limbs of his youngest son. Ere he went in fetters to Babylon. Enough for violated faith ! I gave him life when he prayed for death : Yet 'neath my own closed lids will rise The vision of those bleeding eyes ! Hide them beneath the earth ! I gave Eich odours to burn and a royal grave Eor his corse, who lived long years my slave, • Till he died in Babylon under my yoke, After the word his prophets spoke, For the oath he despised and the pledge he broke. Did I not right ? By the God of heaven The scourge of His wrath to my hand was given, Nebuchadnezzar. i o i To smite that city of the King "With the poison of asps and the dragon's sting. DANIEL. With a laugh of scorn thy chiefs behold The hairs of snow and the hairs of gold, By vain despair's resistance reft, Still clinging roiind each bloody heft. The babe within his mother's womb Escaped not in that day of doom ! The sword cut off like the water's foam The pomp of Judah's royal home ; And lest red slaughter's arm should tire, The beams of cedar were set on fire, Consuming even unto the ark of God, In the holiest place of His own abode : Then all around thy guards broke down The walls of that rebellious town. NEBUCHADNEZZAR, What spoil we took no man can tell. Save the priests who wax rich in the temple of Bel ! The war's first fruits to me belong. Young men, fair virgins, the wise and strong : Their souls and bodies are made my spoil. To build my name on the rock, and toil For life's bare needs on a foreign soil. I02 The CitJicTft. DAXIEL. God knew tliis people as His own Whose faces tliou didst grind to stone. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. Zion I crushed — yet the Prince of Tyre Provoked me to smite her walls with fire, When he said : " Aha ! I am a god That sit in the sea's heart, deep and broad." Then we, his scornful boast to tame, The terrible of nations came. Strange hosts of many an outland name. Shall iron break the chariot wheel, The northern iron and the steel ? The tread of men, the tramp of horse, Sweep on 'gainst Tyre with the sound and force Of floods broke loose in the watercourse. Yet still the untamed sea-fortress rears Her stubborn head through the wingM years, Till all the manhood of my realm Bent their bald heads beneath the helm, And burthens galled the shoulders of strength Through the slow and weary siege's length. When all was done, and the city ta'en, My years, my treasures, the blood of my slain, I had spent them all and my labour was vain ! Nebuchadnezzar. 103 In the still of niglit, o'er the trackless sea, The children of ocean, undaunted and free, With a nation's ransom lied from me. DANIEL. Then God, for on Tyre thou hadst done His host, Led on thy armies towards the West. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. Woe worth the day ! for loss and pain To the peoples who chafed beneath my reign; By my sword in Egypt fell the slain ! Her teeming race for my slaves I took, Her river I used as my Avater brook. In her dragon's jaws I set a hook. The Ethiop, and the Lybian far. Where rank rebellion's branches are, Taste of the bitter fruits of war. ^Keath distant skies less knoAm than these. Beyond the Pillars of Hercules, I stretched my arm o'er lands and seas ; Yea, from the sea of the rising sun To the depths that hide him when day is done, Earth's empire by my sword was won. When my hands to spoil found nothing worth, Homeward I fared by the chilly aSTorth : I04 The Cithern. "With riches past count, with miglit and fame Beyond my youth's desires, I came To the golden city of my hirtli. The glory and wonder of all the earth, Mine heritage from sire to son, Tliis mighty city, Babylon. NITOCRIS. "Where happier than Sennacherib, By his own sons stabbed beneath the rib,. Tliou bearest yet the sword of power, A monarch to thy dying hour ! A daughter's bosom, a daughter's arm. Thy living pillows, tender and warm. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. Oh ! I am sick, and sigh for rest — Close not tliose curtains by the west — Once more that sight I have loved the best. The splendours of the waning light. In many-coloured changes bright, Full on my Eden of delight. Those hanging gardens my love and pride Reared for my Queen, my Median bride, "When I tasted joy in my summer tide. The alabaster runnels lave Those terraced heights ; the rosebays wave Nebuchadnezzar. 105 Their crimson blooms ; the hiscioiis pahn Breatlies lieavy with the sceut of halm, And taller with each year that dies, Do tamarisk and pomegranate rise, "Where I did plant my paradise With every fair tree that yicldcth fruit — Where the love song of birds is never mute. Lo ! yonder in that myrtle grove. Like a shepherd youtli I wooed my love : And there she lies embalmed in death — Ah me ! the fig-tree languisheth, The vine is dried up by swift decay, Since joy from my soul is withered away. Yes, she died young — and from that hour I lived for majesty and power. Look down on mighty Babylon ; Behold the works that I have done, And greater yet, but half begun ! Daughter Nitocris, what I v/ould, But cannot achieve, do thou make good. NITOCRIS. Ay, Father ; may I earn by this More praise than famed Semiramis ! io6 The Cithern. DANIEL. I, Daniel, tell tliee they must fall, Thy palace towers and the city wall, That mate with the storm-clouds, shall ruin all ! NEBUCHADXEZZAR. Could we repent, like Nineveh, Would thy God put off the evil day My slaves and captives hoast of % When My race shall he cut off from men. My house he made the lions' den, AVhere bird unclean and ravening beast Shall shriek and growl o'er their loathsome feast. BELSHAZZAR. Tell thy Belshazzar, what hast thou done To earn this curse from sire to son % NEBUCHADNEZZAR, For a long life spent such meed I win. And thou, Belshazzar, dost ask of my sin % N"ot by the grandchild of my blood My madness can be understood ! Yet, if it must be — boy, stand near, That wisdom may reach Belshazzar's ear, NITOCRIS. Ay, let him take to heart thy curse, Lest God may yet afflict him worse. Nebuchadnezzar, 107 NEBUCHADNEZZAR. I was lord of captivL's and wealtli untold, "WT^ien I made in my own heart's lust overbold, An image of Bel in purest gold. Pull sixty cubits I reared his height As the symbol of my will and might, That through ages should stand in my dream's despite. And glorious as the risen sun, Afar that wondrous semblance shone O'er the plain of Dura, by Babylon, Like magic rising from the ground, Did pipe and chord of music sound, "While my princes and captains were gathered around, And at my word obedient, fell In worship before the image of Bel : Then man by man, every language and race Bowed down at his feet an awestruck face ; For I bade them choose 'twixt death by fire And their spirits' homage to my desire. But the chief of my Chaldees then drew near With envenomed whisper in my ear : " Those Jews, who stand first in favour with thee, O'er the province of Babylon set above me, Those men, King, have spurned thy decree. " They serve not thy gods, nor have worship paid To the "olden ima^e which thou hast made." loS The Cithern. Tlien fury stung me : I felt a change Convulse my face, till its form grew strange, And my brain seethed, hot with a fiend's revenge. DANIEL. Seven times its Avont, at thj'' desire, Was heated the burning furnace of fire, That its flame with pitch and naphtha fed Rose fifty cubits overhead ; And those three servants leal and true, "Who bore their ban with the name of Jcav, ]5ound, into the midst, tliy strong men threw. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. But not thee, Daniel ! '\Mio durst offend By envious slander against my friend % Into fire they fell — I looked again, And lo ! by the flames my strong men slain ! Once more I looked — not three, but four. Walked scathless on the smelting floor : 'Twas an angel semblance beside them trod. For that fourth was like the Son of God. He smote with a moist and whistling wind The flames before them and behind ; Unscorched was their hair, unmoved their mind. And out of the fire I heard them sing Blessings and praise to heaven's high King. I stood, astonied, and changed my word, And Avorshipped that mighty God, their Lord, Nebuchadnezzar. \ 09 For I knew no oilier God hut tliis Could so deliver those children of His. DANIEL. Iladst thou been wise in time, and known The God of Israel for thy own, The everlasting Holy One, !N"ot at thy hand would He now require Those lives He ransomed from the fire. KEUUCHAUXEZZAR. I, Nebuchadnezzar, by men called great, Was Hourisliing in my high estate, At rest in my house — yet again, on my bed, The thoughts and visions of my head Haunted my dreams with troubles dread. Again, Daniel ! to thee was given The spirit of the God of heaven ; Thy faithful tongue with pain and ruth, Was bold to speak the awful truth. How didst thou urge me, and implore To judge uprightly, and sin no more, But show compassion to the poor I And break with the past — if it might be God's mercy so should deal Avith me. One year did give thy Avarning proof ; When down I gazed from my palace roof On the works I had made for my OAvn behoof, no The CitJicrn. And said : " Is not this great Babylon, Built by the captives my sword has won, With the spoil of all nations beneath the sun ? " For the home of my Imperial race, By the might of my power, of my sovereign grace, I have made and adorned this glorious place." With the word in my mouth I heard from heaven A voice flash like the falling levin : " Nebuchadnezzar, to thee, King, From God most High is spoke this thing : " From thee the kingdom shall depart, Till thou acknowledge in thy heart " 'Twas His to give as He hath Avillod." Yea, that same hour Avas the curse fulfilled. Horror and shuddering upon me came ; Of memory, speech, and human shame Bereft, my spirit was broken tame. NITOCEIS. But Avhy didst thou fly to the desert wild From the shelter of home, from the care of thy child % NEBUCHADNEZZAR. The leper's taint was on my mind, My OAvn slaves drove me from my kind, And little right the faithful few To this poor wreck of power could do ! Nebuchadnezzar. 1 1 1 NITOCRIS. Could'st thou not trust my love to cling To tlice till death, ray father, my King'? NEBUCHADNEZZAR. From the house of my glory I dwelt aloof, AA'here the oxen browse Avith trampling hoof : Of the grass of the field like them I ate ; With the dew of heaven my body was wet ; Ay, seven years ! but Avhat did I know Of seasons or times in those days of woe % Naked I roamed, till my hair \vas grown Like an eagle's plumage, and hard as stone, My nails, like talons, ran to bone. NITOCRIS. father 1 from my heart is wrung A drop of blood with each word from thy tongue. NEBUCHADNEZZAR. Those days are ended— my hand and eye "Witness my trust in God most High ; Taught by His light how poor a thing This glory of an earthly king ! "While I stand on the silent river's brim, Stout of heart though faint of limb, As the Lord of life I bow to Him ! NITOCRIS. And I, too, father — if He forgive, It may be my son shall reign and live ! 112 The Cithern. NEBUCHABNEZZAR. Lo, as a king 'mongst kings, I tread The mansions of the mighty dead, Each throned in glory on his hed. (van dust and darkness claim kindred thus % " Art thou become as one of us % " Spare me such sepulchre of pride, But lay me in the earth, beside Her, my soul's joy, my youth's fair bride. My monument for ever stands. Like a mountain chain from the desert sands Raised by sheer strength of liuman hands : Those triple walls, those gates of brass, ^^^lile the ages of men shall blossom and pass, Remain to witness what Lord I was ; Fire and flood shall sweep them o'er, Man shall dwell there nevermore ! They shall be heaps — yet Avondering fame Shall dig their depths and find my name ! XIK^CRIS, Shall I see this % — Alas, for these Our pleasant homes, our palaces ! NEBUCIIADXEZZAR, No more, but as a yeanling lamb Scorched l)y the sand-storm's blast I am : Pass, light and glory, hovering yet Upon the verge of darkness — let The curtains fall — the sun is set ! SONNETS. HOMER. Strong son of earth's hot youth, divinely born To song, when grace and harmony were first In early Greece, yet by thy mother nursed "With human tears, beneath reproach and scorn. Blind seer ! the light within thy heart cried out 'Gainst destiny, to creation's travail throes Gave voice — to men, the slaves of fear and doubt, The richest music breathed by mortal woes. Homer, thou quenchless spirit of Hellas ! Time Nor change can cast away thy living Avord, Poured, like the golden honey of her clime, Down through the ages, and for ever heard In murmured sympathy with sea and sky. The glory of the land that saw thee live and die ! SAPPHO. Great priestess of the mysteries of fate, Undaunted Sappho ! eloquent to sing Of love's deep heart, the budding pang of spring, Sick joy's cold thrill of anguish passionate ! 'Mongst Hellas' daughters, thou, self-immolate, Alone shalt speak for ever, while the sting Of man's deceit from quivering lips can wring The cry of woman to her perjured mate. Thou wast not earthly born ; a living fire Of the keen lightning's essence was thy sire ; Thy soul was uttered forth in one long kiss Once and for all : then, wrecked by broken faith, The sunken rock beneath thy tide of bHss, Flashed back immortal through the sea of death ! ^SCHYLUS. Hero and poet, Athens' giant son ! Upon lier side 'gainst Persian hordes, how strong Thy battle arm ! hoAv grand and rich thy song Hymning her glorious days of Marathon And Salamis ! Seer of the unknown God, By vision dark thou didst behold as in A glass the mystery of woe and sin, The awful law of blood that Avill have blood. Lo, o'er the mirror of thy soul athirst For justice, flashed the eyes unquenchable Of slaughtered forms, uprisen through death and hell; Such prophet wert thou, ^schylus, the first 'Jo build the tragic stage, tlu'ough eye and ear Smiting upon men's hearts the image of their fear. I 2 SOPHOCLES. Theice happy barJ, with mind, with speech, with form Supreme in strength and beauty, on thy tongue Dropped honey ; in thy fingers, soft and warm, Language was set as wax, to earn so young Thy crown as tragic singer, and thy name, " The Bee," in Athens : long thy glorious years Eang with applause, and burned with passion's tears Passing the promise of thy early fame. Oak of the land, thy ninetieth summer's fruit Bloomed fairest, sweetest, m the virgin bride, Daughter and sister, her who grandly died, Antigone ; and when the chords were mute Beneath thy hand, adoring Hellas bore Their echoes in her heart, divine for evermore. EURIPIDES. Born to man's troubles, of a sorrowing woman, In that dark hour when victory was wrung From fate, at Salamis, how true and human Upon thy lip the tragic music sprung, Euripides ! and through the crash of war The pulse of passion winged thy words afar "Who spake not as a god, but wept in common "With flesh and blood, and showed them as they are. Sweet voice of wisdom ! when the captive thrall Of Grecian birth could mingle with his groans Some fragments of thy speech, the chams would fall From off his bruiskl limbs, the scattered stones Of mercy's altar rise again beneath Thy song that charmed to peace their tyrants' doom of death. SHAKESPEARE. A VOICE of nature thrilling everywhere Through pulse and nerve of living heart and head- Crowned with a garland ever fresh and fair, Sovereign among the unforgotten dead, Shakespeare is with us, next the "Word of truth. The vein of wisdom's jewels most desired ; Who, three dark centuries past, a God-sent youth, Looked out on life with prophet eye inspired — The touch of fire was on his lips, to teach Heaven's harmonies on earth, whose music, rolled Through rugged numbers of our Saxon speech, Kang sweetly as the angels' harps of gold, Till kindred choirs that lent, took back their own To sing before the everlasting throne. BYRON. Son of the morning ! fallen to earth from heaven, With lips of music, eyes of flame and breath Of passion, as from 'mong the shining Seven One angel banished to this valley of death : Wast thou not heard what time the new-born stars Sang out for joy of young creation's day ? Ere thou hadst known the taste of sin that mars God's image, blurred within the house of clay. Byron ! thou wast not of the chill gray North "\Miere thou wast born : unto reviving Greece Thy soul, athirst for beauty's joy, went forth. To pass through pain and turmoil into peace : Poet ! above thy forehead's early snows Spring fadeless glory and love — the laurel and the rose. LAMARTINE. Thou unforgotten, dost rememlDer me Afar with God 1 The girl with woman's tears Deep welling o'er thy sorrow-laden years — Knit by a daughter's kindness unto thee Childless, and I an orphan 1 Second birth To heavenly light, to song divine, to love Ineffable, whose gift is from above, I owe thee, dearer than the ties of earth. Still in the pathway of thy evening A radiance pales the glories of the morn : From my life's book the first fresh leaflets torn In hope's dim borderland lie quivering ; There from thy soul a voice doth stir my own, So well I know that deep and tender tone ! JOB XVII. i4. Beloved dust, from whom my being sprung, Fond lips, that felt thy little child's caress, Untimely sealed — though faithful memory clung To looks and words recalled from nothingness : Father ! I was thy only one, thy pride : Dying, thou bad'st thy baby girl be true And fearless, in the deep and adverse tide That rose against me as I lived and grew. Why was I left, and thou, so great of heart, Cut off before the prize of life Avas won, Thy heir an infant, and thy glorious part 'Mongst the world's best and highest scarce begun 1 So, death claimed kindred with me, and his power Taught me to taste of wrong, the orphan's bitter dower. M. L. A. B. Bright noon of beauty quenched in widowhood, True loving broken heart that lived for me — My earthly wealth of all things pure and good, My treasure garnered in the home to be — Ah, sweet my mother ! were those same fond eyes Set 'mongst the stars about the sapphire throne, While mine searched, tearless, through the iron skies In God's creation utterly alone 1 I loved thee well, and yet how little worth The joy that paid thee for a mother's pain, The passionate, yearning hope to live again ! — Till that dark even of my day of birth, The angel gathered thee like golden com, And left my maimM life as flesh from spirit torn. TILL DEATH US DO PART. {July 3rd, 1882.) Five years gone by since tliou didst call me wife ! It seems a little month of clondless days Since -with thy love joy came into my life, A radiant stranger ; and the fond heart prays We may be thus together all our years, Or few or many, for I ask to live Thy time — no longer, as I know no fears, K'o hope, without thee that this world can give. Oh ! my soul's blessing, God's best gift — mine own- Let Him take back my treasure with thy breath. Wlien it seems best to Him, but not alone — I would not part from thee in life nor death, Till, in our Father's house, these eyes shall see The marriage feast unto eternity. SEVEN YEARS. (Juhj 2rd, 1881.) Seven years tins day together — ay, seven years Our mortal bliss has lasted, and the love Of our espousals blooms untamted of This world's foul breath, affection's mingling tears The gentle dew that feeds its heavenly growth. So may we live, so may God keep us both To see our silver wedding, and thy sun Brighten at eve, and then — my life is done. Our golden union in a holier band Shall draAV my spirit towards the promised land : For never more to any earthly thing, Save only thee, whose love has filled the loss That crushed my youth beneath the bitter cross. The tendrils of my heart's desire may cling. LOVE IS OF GOD. (1886.) Nine golden years since, in the depth of grief, Love whispered me of hope and happy rest In earth's first, dearest tie, for ever blest From young creation's morn : Time ! thou thie f Of nature, now give pause, forget us here — My sun has touched his zenith ; this the hour. Life, hated once, is rich in joy and power, And light is sweet — yet wherefore should I fear 1 Love dies not, passing through the starry sea From depth to depth of suns, where never clomb The thought of living man, unto that home Where neither mortal change nor pain can he : Though bonds of earth to that eternal shore Reach not, love is of God, for evermore. IN MEMORIAM. (F. L. 0., February, 1885.) Art thou no longer but a fond regret, friend and brother, ever kind and true 1 Close by the altar steps I see thee yet, As Avhen I first such tie of kindred knew. The gift of wedded love : no son of eartli Through chastening fire a heart more guileless bore, More precious to the few wdio proved thy worth, Eough in the grain, but honest to the core. And now thou sleepest with thy fathers — gone To peace — and though in flesh and blood, our eyes Shall see thy face no more, we hope — for One Hath spoke the word : " Thy brother shall arise : " And to His hands, with trust that conquers dread. We yield in silence our beloved dead. ALICE MARY CUNNINGHAM. {Descendant of Allan Cunningham. Born at Sea.) "Wee black-eyed fairy, blossom of tlie sea, "Wliat strange conjiinction of portentous stars Looked down on thy beginning 1 Joy to thee, Born on the waves like foam-sprung A^enus ! Mars Is bound to use thee kindly, little lass, Whose father serves the Empress Queen, and has Xo less a gossip than the god of wars ; "While Xeptune sends thy nurses, British tars. Grow fair and wise, until the breeze of fame Shall whisper thee, thou bear'st a poet's name j Fair weather smile upon thee from the blue Of deepest heaven, and with unfading light Instruct thy maiden sail to trim aright Her snowy wings, and keep thee pure and true ! FLORENCE PENNINGTON. (Drovtmed in the River Dovey, Merionethshire, August 24:th, 1886.) Maiden of England's true and fearless blood, Swift to redeem, at cost of tliy fair life, A brother, striving with the hungry flood To wrest from fate his spent and sinking wife. Another by the brink had idly stood "With wringing hands and feeble echoing cry, But thou wert brave to dare what woman coidd And, like a soldier's sister, nobly die : Sudden and strong the treacherous current bore Thy lissom limbs down to a timeless rest, And cast the husband senseless on the shore, His babes' dead mother locked upon his breast. Yet 'twas enough — thy sweet breath given for him Shall burn in memory's lamp no years can quench or dim. IN MEMORIAM. (Arthur O'SJiaugnessrj. January 30th, 18SI.) Home to thy wife and hahes ! Are ye all gone Unto the land where sounds of human praise Perish forgotten? Ah, how few the days Since ye were earthly happy ! two made one By love, that bids our mortal dust put on Immortal longings ; now for you there stays The marriage feast with those whose rest is won. Poet ! thy spirit dwelt beyond the sun In song, and thou hast lived thy life, with aim ^lore noble than the world's reward could give : For I have heard thee say, " I would not strive For fleeting honours, but the enduring name To come hereafter " — dead, thy voice shall live Amoncf the deathless minstrel heirs of fame. SIR MOSES MONTEFIORE. Sealed with the kiss of God, he takes his rest, The ancient of a hundred years gone by Like shades and sunbeams o'er the evening's breast,, Yet crowned with honour to eternity : For thou hast lived thy life, son of time ! "Walking with God, and even to the end In thee have age and weakness shown sublime, Whom want and woe used ever as their friend. Hebrew father ! in this Christian land Be unforgotten ! He Avhose name is Love Eeceive thee that fulfilled His first command. And join again with her whose spirit strove In thee 'gainst death's dark barrier — satisfied "With days, go home in joy a bridegroom to thy bride. TO MRS. KENDAL. {As Claire in the " Iron-master.") The Avoimded spirit that can break, not bend, When love betrayed counts not the bitter cost Of scorn's requital, and the iron frost Turned withering alike on foe and friend — That pass — the hardest in the fate of woman, To shrink in madness from a husband's side, And vows too rashly spoke in stubborn pride — These canst thou bid us feel with thee in common. Not with the cunning of consummate art. But with the life and pulse of thy whole heart, Dost thou so move us to the very core Of soul and body, Avith thy long, low wail, True misery's cry — till truth and hope prevail, And love's rich blessin<' crowns thee evermore. HENRY THE FIFTH OF FRANCE. (September, 1883.) Ix peace with God, a blessing on his lips, Henry of France has won the crown of life ; Ruling his spirit, Avhile he slowly sips The bitterness of death, through JSTature's strife The blameless Prince comes greater now than they Who wade through blood to thrones. By time and chance Unchanged, he swerved not from the better way : For himself, nothing ; hoping all for France. Heaven looked on him, and chose him for its own : And though he never felt the hidden sting Bound in the circlet of a mortal crown. All men shall say of him, " This was a King ; " And buried with the noblest of his line. Lies the Avhite lily flag of Plight Divine. PRINCESS BEATRICE. Daughter of England ! in the golden hour "When wedded love its heavenly flame has shed With praises of thy people, and a shower Of ruarriage blessings on thy gracious head; Why do they breathe for thee the self-same prayer, In Israel's language and thy mother tongue, The patriarch of a hundred years, the young Bright children 1 God be with the loving pair ! Why^ but for thou hast poured thy pure heart's treasure Back to its well-spring, and thy morning bloom Laid, a fair garland, on thy father's tomb. To comfort her whose sorrow knows no measure. Love is of God, and He has croAvned your life With love's immortal joj^, husband and wife. QUEEN ADELAIDE'S TREE IN WINDSOR FOREST. Midst Windsor Chase, -where Norman William made His hunting realm, the home of his delight j Where many a time the Druids' secret glade Was lit by fires of sacrifice at night — Deep in old fairy-land, whose mystic shade Strives with the all-seeing sun, half dim, half bright; This tree was set by good Queen Adelaide, A landmark of fair England's fairest sight. Lo, in the vista through the forest lies Proud Windsor, and the high-embattled tower, Where Scotland's king was found by beauty's eyes. And taught to sing away the prison hour. Ah, ancient stones, what love, what joy, what tears Have writ the story of Victoria's years ! I-OIfDON : J. AND li. MAXWELL, ST. BKIDB STEliET, E.C. BALLADS AND POEMS FOR RECITATION. By EMILIA AYLMER BLAKE (Mrs. Aylmer Gowixg). Price 1/- ; in eloth boards, 1. 6. " The writer is no mere versifier. This little book proves that she has gifts and attainments of an order which fairly entitle her to take rank with the poets. Her verse — uniformly fresh, pleasant, and tuneful — is not less distinguished for truth of sentiment than for grace of fancy and simple beauty of diction. The legendary ballads deal for the most part with modern themes of everyday life, and always inculcate a healthy moral. Abounding as they do in dramatic incident, narrated with a pithy picturesqueness of style which engages without over- straining the attention of an audience, they are well adapted for public recitation." — MoRNixG Post. " The pathos of many of these stories told in verse renders them well suited to the special object for which they were written." — Daily Chronicle. " The book has its mission — a high one — if it reclaims even one soul from the curse of countless homes." — Sunday Times. " Should be bought in thousands by the Blue Ribbonists. The authoress is a reciter of finished culture and high reputation, and has put into the mouth of capable elocutionists pieces which must win friends all round the world." — Elocutionist. "Without exception excellent in one way or another." — Society. " This is a volume that deserves to be in great demaiid ; marked by deep feeling and that dramatic vigour so mr.ch appre- ciated by popular audiences. We heartily wish the little book a wide circulation, and hope that we may not have to wait long for a companion volume from the same gifted pen." — Church of England Temperance Chronicle. "Better suited for recitation than the humdrum cut-and- dried pieces which generally do duty at convivial meetings." — Christian Globe. " There are some very beautiful pieces in the collection." — Temperance Eecord. " The poems are princii^ally for recitation, it is true — there is all the dramatic force and ring which affect a listening audience — but they also contain the deeper and gentler charms which fit them admirably for home reading." — World of Fashion. " This work is admirably adapted for the use of elocutionists — stirring and dramatic, and will well repay the reader." — Stage. " Her Majesty the Queen has been graciously pleased to accept a copy of Mrs. Aylmer Gowing's ' Ballads and Poems,' which have already been found effective on the platform." — Observer. "They cannot fail to do good." — Lord Shaftesbury, Feb. 13, 1885. ILonUon : JOHN AND EGBERT MAXWELL, MILTON HOUSE, ST. BEIDE STREET, E.C. MRS. JOHN KENT SPENDER'S NOVELS Thi Publishers are about to issue a cheap Uniform Edition of vlrs. John Kent Spender's works. This writer has always made >r herself a large and substantial reputation with the circulating libraries of the United Kingdom. As is well known her novels kre imprinted by profound insight into the motives that atTca the ECtioni of Uie men and women of our day, and her skill in the construction of the plot of her stones is far above the average. " Mr. Nobody," the first of Mrs. John Kknt Spei^dkr's boo^ed «ssue, in Two-Shilling Volumes, carefully printed upon good paper, and neatly bound id characienstic picture boards, or in cloth gilt at zs. 6d., or half morocco at 3*. 6rf.. will be welcomed throughout the length and breadth of the land, and will cairy amusement and comfort mto many a distant home, to many a yearning heart Frioe 28., Picture Boards ; 28. 6d., Cloth GiH ; 38. 6d., Half Morocoo. (Postage 4d. each.) DAME DURDEN •♦ 'Dame Durden' i> a charm. i.g conception." — Jlftrning P0St. " Ii would be well indeed if fiction generally could be kept up to this Irrrl * itmitmf. MY LADY COQUETTE " or ereat merit ; welt worked out ; a good idea is unbodied ; the aulbor can-ia* the rcadar't tympaihy with her." — Alkirutum. VI VIEN N E "'Rita' has prodnced a novel as enthralling at W'ilkie Collins' 'Woman in Whit*,' or MlM Braddon's ' Lady Audley's Secret.' " — Standard. " ' Viviennc ' is intensely dramatic, abounding in incident and Mn%ml\on."—T«i«gt»fJk, LIKE DIAN'S KISS *< A pretty *tory, remarkable alike for pathos and clever portraiture."— T'/mtm. COUNTESS DAPHNE *' It «• written with considerable skill." — Alhennum. FRAGOLETTA "The Italian heroine certainly falls into most romantic circumstance*— «iiongh tn enin>>lns'l«« U break down a stronger nature than that of the little maiden of the story." — Aiktturum. A SINLESS SECRET " Simple and pathenc episodes. There is melody in many of the love-pauageo, wkan the dialogue is sweetly pretty without becoming tame or sickly. ' — Acadsmy. F A U S T I N E ** ' Fanstine' It a remarkable work, and will greatly enhance Che author's repntatioa as a writw " —Cturt y»ii»nal. AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN " The moral of the siury i«. «>iind, the dialogue smart and lively, and the style clear and viyuc uias lhn>ii' rtltgrapn. TWO BAD BLUE EYES " In the present volume there is • gouU acal ot cievcr writing, and a percentage of tkoachi 10 t*o dialogue.' —Atkinmufn. I, k E. MAXWELL, Milton HouRe. 14 and 15. Sboo Lane. Eeet Stxeet; and 35, St. Bnde Street. L deate Oircua. E.O. Blake - m3^ The cithern B^83c UULA-Touiiy nt-o^. PR4135 .B583C L 009 530 378 PR ai35 3583c A A 001 402 951 '-■^mm-^^-^:rk:^ ■<::-^. 't ■ :" '' V ■ ■■ •< ' 't- -v* '.' r . 'S '^v. <. ' ^J ^-^ • ." •-■^ f ^ ^^- V,- -■'';