UC-NRLF B E fl3M STM LjDi^AR POEMS BY THE LATE MARIE J. E. FOTHERBY. €Mtei biy Iicr 50u$l)anl^. s/o vj i5' "And, departing, leave beliind us Footprints on tlie sands of time ; — " LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE EDITOR. PUBLISHED BY ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW, 1SG2. LOAN STACK Y^7V^ TO HENRY EWEN, ESQ., F.R.C.S., ®l]tsc I onus OF A BELOVED DAUGHTER AEE DEDICATED, WITH THE ATFECTIONATE ESTEE:M OF HIS SOX-IN-LAW, THE EDITOR. 909 PREFACE. The publication of this little work lias been undertaken in accordance with a feeling widely expressed^ not only among the friends of tlie lamented authoress, but bv others to whom she was chiefly known by her writings. The accept- ance and fulfilment of this office has been a source of great pleasure to the Editor_, believing, as he does_, not only that the poetic excellence of the compositions entitles them to a per- manent form, but that the earnest, thrilling- words, in which the noblest principles of life are urged, cannot be spoken in vain, nor go forth without bearing some good fruit. For several years past^ the occasional poems of the authoress in various magazines have been read with increasing interest and plea- VI PREFACE. sure; and it was fondly hoped that these snatches of melody were but the trial- tones of a harp whose cords should one day vibrate and swell in a full^ continued tide of song. But not on earth ! " Hwas the harp i' the air/^ and^ floating upwards, its richer_, nobler strains were henceforth to mingle with the divine harmony. IJow ardently she anticipated this employment her last song indicates. Yet we can at least retain what has been uttered ; and the present selection from her poems and songs comprises those which have been already especially esteemed_, and, in addition, several that have not hitherto appeared. In examining the manuscripts, it was found that although more than seventy had been pub- lished, a considerable number had not ; and of these, many were of high excellence. Some, written during her last illness, and under the knowledge of its certain issue, possess a hal- lowed interest, — indeed, they are a voice from the grave itself. These are the concluding six in the volume, and they have all been PREFACE. VU composed within the past fcAv months. The last, viz., '' A Soul's Song/' was penned but a very brief interval before her decease. It is not intended to enter into biographical details, but it may be desirable that readers observing the tone and character of these poems, should know somewhat of the literary tastes and habits of the writer. The poetic temperament was certainly innate, and at a very early age began to develope itself. Some of her juvenile pieces exhibit not only great warmth and vividness of ima- gination, but possess a sustained consistency of thought and imagery that would bear com- parison with similar productions of our best writers. Indeed, her powers matured early, and she possessed the happy combination of a deeply poetic nature along with a passionate fondness for the acquirement of languages. So eagerly was the latter followed, that when about eighteen years of age her health became seriously impaired, and al:)solute rest and ab- stinence from her favourite pursuits became Vlll PREFACE. necessary. A close study of the best autliors of each country (especially Dante^Novalis^Richter^ Pascal^ Calderon, Camoens^ the Brownings_, and Longfellow) J accompanied by the publication of essays on the genius and productions of several_, served not only to confirm and strengthen her own views and principles, but also to impart modes of thought and expression to . her writings. The poems are arranged as nearly as possible in the order of their production (except the first sonnet), this plan appearing the most natural and convenient. The opening ode, ^^To a Departed Spirit/' was written before the authoress was quite fifteen, and the surmises here expressed soon ripened into an article of faith. It seemed, therefore, doul}ly appropriate to place this little piece at the commencement of her poetry. The first poem which appeared in print was, " Last Words ; -" it was published in " The Public Good,^^ in 1850. This and the following five pieces were all written under the age of twenty; and they indicate the rapid growth of the PREFACE. IX authoress^ powers. A review wliicli she had written of Browning's " Paracelsus'^ was followed by " The Last Lesson." The majority of the poems — that is to say, all from '' The Sun hath Set'' to " For Ever ! For Ever !" — were pro- duced during 1851-4, corresponding with the twentieth to the twenty-fourth year of her age. Not much was composed during the two follow- ing years, but in 1857 she wrote more both in prose and poetry — " St. Elizabeth of Hungary " and four or five of the succeeding pieces being then written. "He who enriches the world with but one fair thought does well, and is deserving of our gratitude;" and respecting the essential cha- racter of these writings, it will doubtless be conceded that they manifest such an earnest- ness and oneness of purpose, clearness of per- ception, and devout, burning aspiration for the highest, the only good, as we do not commonly meet with. That the noble ideal of life em- bodied in the following pages was not the offspring of mere romance and sentimentalism. PREFACE. but sprung deep from the lieart_, and was a very part of her own being_, her private circle of friends have well known^ and the last great trial of humanity has now proved. And that her words may prove helpful in re-invigorating some fainting pilgrim^ drooping on his life- march, and of rekindling in some breast the sacred fire^ now choked by the dross and vapours of earthy and well-nigh dead for lack of a diviner air_, — is the fervent hope of him whose life for a while glowed in her presence, and whose pathway will still be lighted by the halo left behind. H. I. F. Trinity Square, Tower. December^ 1861. CONTENTS. PAGE To A Departed Spirit 1 Sonnet 3 Last Words 4 The Lonely Hour 8 Home. Altered from the German 11 Holy Ground 14 EouGET DE Lisle and the " ^Marseillaise Hymn" . . 18 CoRiNNA at the Capitol 23 The Sun hath set 27 The Last Lesson 29 On a Picture of Venice 3G Sonnet. From the Itahau of Filicaja 39 Sonnet. From the Spanish of L. L. de Argensola ... 40 The Romance of the Palmer 41 Fragment 54 Rome 57 The Legend of St. Veronica 62 Beranger to his Old Coat. From the French ... 05 Xll CONTENTS. PAGE The Two Pbayers 6S The Nameless Dead 72 Our Future 74 Two Sonnets 76 Past and Present 78 To Algernon 82 The Dead Raphael 84 The Last Night of the Girondins ....... 87 The Wanderer's Return 90 "Perfect through Suffering" 93 Sonnet. From the Italian of Petrarca 96 L'Ange Gaedien 97 The Beautiful can never Die 101 Sonnet 105 A Highway and a Byeway of Life 107 No More ! 112 Lauretta's Song. From the Danisii 115 The City of the Soul 117 The Fisher. From the Itahan 120 After the Battle 122 The Voice in the Wilderntess 125 What may be 128 Life's Mystery 131 For Ever! For Ever! 134 Nature and the Dreamer 138 St. Elizabeth of Hungary 141 The Magic Castle. From the German 144 CONTENTS. Xlll PAGE To 140 Thou aisT) I. From the German 148 Song. From Schiller 150 The Stranger Child's Holy Christmas. From Rilckert 153 AVlGEL 159 My Dream 162 A Midnight Fancy 1C4 The Two Follots-ers 167 A Christmas Carol 171 The Time to Dbg 174 Night and MoRNaNG 177 A Soul's Song 179 POEMS. K ®0 a gepiittelr Sprit/ Oh ! say, where dost tlioii wander now, 'Mid golden bowers above ? Dost thou e'er bend thy shining brow Toward scenes of earthly love ? And 'mong the countless hosts divine. Souls of angelic bu'th, Say, never do thy thoughts inchne To once-loved forms on earth ? (1) See notes at the end of the volume. B Dost thou beliold eacli bitter tear That we in sorrow weep ? And art thou ever hov'riug near, Watchuig us wliile we sleep ? Dost thou descend, blest form of light. And with thy balmy wings Fan us to rest, until we dream Bright dreams of holy things ? Say, blessed spirit of the skies. In all our joy and woe, Still dost thou feel and sympathize With those once lov'd below ? And when we pine, and droop, and die. Say, will thy wings of love Bear us far upward tlu'ough the sky. To sliming towers above ? '6 awwtl LOFTY souls ! that in the olden days With "hero music" filled this earth of oui-s, And wreath'd your crown in heaven with fadeless flowers, ' Making of hfe a glory and a praise. That stm rings sweetly thi'ongh the poet's lays : 1 pray ye — happy in your starry bowers — Look gently dovm from your bright joy-ht towers On me, sad pHgrhn through these lonely ways ; Inspire me with fresh strength, the while I trace Your foot-prints through the dreamy, mystic past. Oh ! may ye, m yoiu- perfectness of grace. O'er my dark path yet richer hght -floods cast ; That spurning far the mean, the low, the base, I stiU may stand, iii all good darmg, fast. fast Max'bi. Oh ! open thou the lattice wide, And come and sit close by my side. My sweet, my beautiful, my bride, Arthurina ! I wish to gaze upon the sky, O'erspread with sunset's glowing dye. To feel the breezes wandering by, Arthurina ! There 's something in the fading day That whispers of the fleeting May Of life— how all must pass away, Arthurina ! 5 Tliere is a dimness iii mine eye. There is a cloud upon my sky — A deep'ning shade, a sunset dye, Arthuruia ! The tide of hfe is ebbing fast. Life's torch a flickering hght doth cast- Its brightness gone, its glory past, Arthurina 1 I little thought, when first we met, That tears so soon thy face should wet. And, ere its prime, my sun be set, Arthurina ! For ns the brightness soon hath past, Our sky with clouds is all o'ercast — It was too beautiful to last, Ai'thurina ! crimson hues of waning light ! hills and sky, and stars so bright ! Farewell ! I bid ye all " good night ! " Arthurma ! And thou, my hope, my life, my stay. Sweet flow'ret born on Love's young day. The light that shone upon my way, Arthurina ! To thee, more soft than music's swell, Woke by enchantment's magic spell, I 'd breathe a tender, last farewell, Arthurma ! Farewell ! the night hath now begun, The end is gamed, the race is run, The harp hath ceased, the song is done, Arthurina ! But thi-ougli the darkness of tlie niglit One star above is beaming briglit, That we may guide our steps aright, Arthuriua ! A Hght is flashuig from the tomb ; A day of bright and radiant bloom Shall chase afar this evenuig gloom, Arthurina ! Watch for the da\^Tnng of that day. Its beams shall diy thy tears away ; Farewell ! farewell ! oh ! watch and pray, Arthurina ! %\lt f mteig |0nr. Dark frowns yon church, so grim and tall The sliades of night begm to fall, Her mantle droopeth over all, Like to a black funereal paU ; The clock is ticking on the wall, The fire burns dim and low ; Upon the pane I hear the rain. With heavy drops and slow. As shadows flit athwart the room. So is my heart o'erspread with gloom ; And dying flowers, with faded bloom, Alone adorn this livmg tomb. The clock is ticking on the wall, The fire burns dim and low ; Upon the pane I hear the rain. With heavy drops and slow. My friend ! dear friend of former days, A tender radiance softly plays About those old familiar ways. Where still remembrance fondly stays : I listen for thy well-known step, Thy voice, a whisper low. Still on the pane I hear the rain Fall heavily and slow. Methinks I hear the moaning sea. The dry leaves fluttering from the tree. Come back ! come back ! It camiot be That dust is all remains of thee ! 10 The bell tolls forth a dying stram, The shadows darker fall ; I hear the rain upon the pane, The clock upon the wall. Memory ! that still will go Fioatmg adown the stream of woe ; Fancy wild, and whisp'rmg low ! And tears that will unbidden flow ! The clock is tickmg on the wall. The fire burns dim and low ; 1 hear the rain upon the pane Fall heavily and slow. 11 Some. ALTEllED FROM THE GERMAJST. Home ! where passed my childhood fleetly, Mem'ry oft reverts to thee ; Teai's I weep, as sad, though sweetly, Thoughts of yore come over me. Meadows fail- with em'rald fringes. Bowers with woodbine mantled o'er. Cottages the sunlight tinges, Flash upon my sight once more. 12 Casement wreathed about with roses, Planted by my father's hand ; Nook that to my eye discloses Where the tall old pear-trees stand. All that childliood's heart rejoices. Tinged with life-like hues I see ; Hear the hum of village voices Softly echoed o'er the lea. In my dreams, ere dawn is breaking, Bygone sports I practise over : Erom the trees the apples shaking ; Rollmg in the scented clover ; Tliirsty, to the brooklet creeping, When the summer's heat holds sway Berries m the forest seekmg ; Plunting after flowers of May. 1 ^ Oh ! to view the smibeams glancing Through the lindens on the green, "Where, at merry even, dancing, Oft the villagers were seen. Venerable church spii'e, peeping Olid the orchard's blossoms white ; Stork, a lonely vigil keeping O'er her tender brood at night. Where my father's bones are lying. Graves beneath the chui'chyard tree; Heai' the prayer my soul is sighing — Save a restmg-place for me ! 11 pig @rmwi). Amid the busy haunts of men, With careless crowds around, If sacred thoughts come o'er us then. The place is holy ground. Where contrite tears our cheeks have stained, Where we have dreamt of heaven, Where victory over self 's been gained. Or pardon asked and given ; Wliere'er in earnest prayer we kneel. Where'er our hearts have found A solemn rapture o'er us steal, — That spot is holy ground. 15 Oh ! wlieu thou hear'st the anthem swell, lu rich, sweet music given, Then yield thee to the mighty spell That wafts thy soul to heaven. Go, pace you old cathedi-al, There 's silence all around ; Hush ! lightly let thy footsteps fall, For tJds is holv ijrouud. But, oh ! not here alone 'tis given. Beneath this lordly dome. To hold communion sweet with heaven. And find the spirit's home : Under the lowliest roof for prayer, T^Tiere two or thi-ee are found. If earnest souls are gathered there. The place is holy ground. Go, wander by the lonely shore, Seen only by God's eye. 16 And nought thy vision scanneth o'er But boundless sea and sky ; No other voice is mingHng there But ocean's awful sound ; Then let thy soul gush o'er in prayer, For that is holy ground. When wild winds in the forest lone Chant forth a solemn hymn. And leaves about thy path are strewn. And round is twihght dim, — Then bow thy head in voiceless prayer. There 's somethino; all around That whispers of a Spirit there. And that is holy ground. By river broad, by rippling rill, On plam, or moimtain high, In valleys fair, on sunlit liill, Beneath a starry sky ; 17 Or wlieresoe'er one flower hath birth, Aud sheddeth beauty round. There 's not a spot on all the earth But may be holy ground ! 18 Soiiget M f isle AND THE "MARSEILLAISE HYMN."^ "Being forth the wine ! " the Baron cried, " I've yet a scanty store ; And give a parting song, De Lisle, Ere vet the feast be o'er. " We have no costly viands here, To grace our frugal board; But warm true hearts are better worth Than gold or silver hoard. 19 " Fill well the cup with Rhenish wine, And while it floweth free, We'll drink unto our Fatherland, And drink to Liberty ! " Then weave, De Lisle, a farewell hymn As best befits the time ; Some lay with spirit-stirring words, — Some chant of tone sublime." ***** His host hath bidden lum " Good night ; " De Lisle is left alone ; The winds around the turret sweep With melancholy moan. Though hghtnuigs flash from storm-fraught clouds, And thunders o'er him roll, They cannot break the magic speU That wraps the poet's soul. 20 A power divine sat on his brow. And to his eye there came A brighter gleam, wliile rose the star That led him on to fame. He snatch'd his harp, and o'er its strings A prelude low began. Till to a stream of harmony The rich, sweet music ran. Unto his vision-crowded bram There came a phantom throng, Ere to his Hps arose the strain As gush'd the fount of song. His red cheeks flush'd a deeper glow, And brighter grew liis glance. At the first echoes of the song That shook the heart of Erance. 21 He little dreamt that lofty lay, Heard with suspended breath, Should e'er be raised among the haunts Of carnage and of death. He little di-eamt liis dearest friends Should soon the scaffold tread, While round them burst that fearful hymn, As anthem for the dead. ***** A mighty throng ! a mighty song ! What blood-stain' d hands are there ! O heaven above ! can these be men, And maidens young and fair ? On, on, De Lisle ! the frontiers gain ! riy from thy country, fly ! Alas ! that ever crime should stain The name of Liberty ! 22 With hurrying step De Lisle press'd on, He knew those words fuJl well ; But how they named that lay of his The poet could not tell. Upon a peasant's brow his eye Fix'd with inquirmg gaze : " What song is that ? " — The man repHed- " It is the Marseillaise ! " 23 €m\m nt i^t Captal; Theee were footsteps on the Corso before the purple dawn, And gatherings m the Forum ere the rosy bkish of morn, Loud voices round the Capitol, and on the marble stair A breathless crowd assembled, as for a triumph there. The chimes of San Giovaimi, how merrily they ring ! As if to all the city round a soul of joy to bring. There 's noise of many chariots, and sounds of trampmg feet, And horses well caparison'd, and minstrels in the street. What mean the balconies all hung with tapestry so fine ? And why are garlands wreath'd around the Arch of Constantme ? "V^Tiat mean those bamiers streaming bright, o'er tower and glittermg dome. Ye ladies fair, and gentlemen, that throng the streets of Rome ? 24 It is a day of triumph, and tiie brightest of its kind, The victory of genius — the " triumph of the mind." Coruine, the pride of Italy, descends the flower-wreath' d way, For at the proud old Capitol she wiU be cro^ii'd to-day. Right nobly prance her snow-wliite steeds— behold the chariot come ; Room, room for her, the star of aU ! ye citizens of Rome. Off with your hats, brave gentlemen, for genius is divine ; And never hath she made her home m such a lovely shrine. She comes ! the fair Corinna comes ! 'mid thunders of acclaim, That rush unto the lips of all when murmur breathes her name. Scatter sweet roses aU around ! fling perfumes to the air ! And strew her path with aU that breathes of beautiful and fair. Her car hath gain'd the Capitol — her foot is on the stair ; She stands a form of matchless grace, the queen of thousands there. Bring forth the wreath that threw afresh a lustre round his name Whose genius burn'd, a vestal fire, with never-dying flame ; 25 Whose vision pierced the manthng mists that circle roimd the tomb. Where bitter groans resound for aye amid the starless gloom ; Who saw the cities of the blest, and with as fearless tread, Paced through the ebon halls of hell, the mansions of the dead. The crown that might have cast a ray to light sad Tasso's gloom. But only droop'd a fun'ral WTeatli to wither on his tomb. Ay, reach it down, that laurel cro^vn, it never hath been given To one more rich in beauty's grace and aU the gifts of heaven. Oh ! it is grand, a nation's love ! a people's benison ! The homage of ten thousand hearts flung at the feet of one ! The rapturous glow that fires the soul, and thrUls through ev'ry frame. At mention of the worshipp'd one, the echo of her name. Corimia at the Capitol ! Oh ! what a speU comes o'er me. As I view the gorgeous pageantry that passeth now before me. But I woidd know the meanhig of the tears which starting rise. In pearly di'ops, to dim the joy which hghts her rapturous eyes. 26 Though laurel wreath surrounds her brow, and glory Kghts her name. There is a chamber in her heart can ne'er be fill'd by fame. Lonely, amid adoring crowds, she dreams, as well she may, The faithful love of cne true heart were better worth than they. And when the crowd is parted, and the festival is o'er, The many voices silent, and the music heard no more, She will think upon the triumph, the splendour that is gone, As the shadow of a dream, or the echo of a tone ! 27 %llt ^m\ |atl] M* He crieth still, " Not yet— not yet ! " ' Until enrobed in crimson vest, Below the sea waves in the west. The smi hath set — the snn hath set ! The dying splendours pass'd away. This trnth he learneth in the night : That those who work mnst work by light ! And wliile the time is " call'd to-day." He mi^kt have shonted to the Age ; He might perchance have left behind Some sparkles of Ms nobler mind. That should all hearts and souls engage. 28 And flash like jewels of the deep ; Amidst the crowds he might have hurl'd A thunder that slionld wake the world, Fresh energised from years of sleep. But aye, he cried, " Not yet — not yet ! " And falter' d, Hnger'd, till at last The light is gone, the hour is past, The sun hath set — the sun hath set ! i 29 il)t fast lesson.' ♦' I am he that aspired TO K'SO'W l"— Paracelsus O FRIEND, dear friend ! my course is o'er ; Dini are the lights upon the shore ; My soul is dai'k for evermore. dying day ! fading red ! The sunbeams come aslant my bed. And make a glory round thy head ; For thou art here ; 'tis well, my friend ; Thy hand in mine — still o'er me bend ; 1 dreamt not this should be the end. 30 Thou kiiowest, from life's early years, Wliat war I waged with doubts and fears. What truths I sought 'mid bitter tears. I went not with the common tlu-ong, Nor to my years of youth belong Remembrances of dance and song. Lonely I stood — relentless, proud ; My soul to Him 1 never bow'd. Lord of the dark'ning thunder-cloud. But still, my friend, although accursed With an unsated, dying tliirst, I found not where true fountains burst — Until too late : when, anguish torn, My heart all cold, is overworn By years of hatred, pride, and scorn. 31 wave ! tliy languid course is run ! roses ! fading in tlie sun ! O triflers ! dying one by one, Your little world small comfort brings ! Oh ! spread afar your angel wings ! Why will ye stoop to lesser things ? Like sunset's varied, fitful gleam, Like flow'rets floatmg down a stream, Or shadows passing tlu-ough a dream ;- Ye dewdrops bright in summer shine, I know a wayward course was mme ; But stiU 'twas grand, and half divme. I saw dark clouds about me roll ; '*How am I fallen ! " said my soul, And flashed with ire beyond control. 32 I dasli'd my gauntlet on the ground. With scorn supreme I glanced around, But ne'er a champion was found. Then burst my spirit's prison-bar, I sent my soul through worlds afar. To snatch from Heaven her brightest star. Seeking for knowledge, till I found Stern truths deep m the under ground . From Heaven above, and earth around. I glean' d a heap of golden ore. And gems of mind, a sroodlv store Of ancient and of modern lore. Ay ! e'en to death my soul was brave ; I sent a cry to pierce the grave. And bade the dead their standards wave. oo I learn'd the mysteries of hell, And fearful charm and mighty spell ; My spirit sought and knew them well. Afar all meaner thhigs I hurl'd ; I long'd to raise my flag unfurl' d, Until it floated o'er the world. Each truth attain' d,— a " steppmg-stone " To climb aloft, — subhme, alone. Until I reach'd to God's own throne. No love had I for human kind, I bui'u'd to be the master-mind — Above them all in Ught enslnui'd : And from that height, all proud, forlorn, By stern, conflicting passions torn. My eyes rain'd down a kingly scorn. 34 God, from Ms throne of life and liglit, Stretch'd forth his hand, and dimm'd my sight. And dash'd me from that dazzling height. But, in my fall, my eye discern'd A glitt'ring shield towards me turn'd. Behold ! this legend on it burn'd : — " Love is the perfect lore ! " friend ! Thou ever lov'dst ; still lowly bend And worship humbly to the end. Knowledge is vain, and all a dream Is beauty's light, without the gleam That sparkles down Love's holy stream. Love m the Infinite of all ! Worlds at His feet adormg fall ; But I? Too late ! Beyond recall ! 35 Still doth my stubborn heart rebel ; God in heaven ! was it well ? Revert the cui'se, dissolve the spell. These words resound from land and sky, " Love is the perfect knowledge ! " Why At glory's portal must I die ? joy supreme ! Celestial balms ! 1 hear the chanting of the psahns, I see the wavmg of the pahns. I mark the hght come streaming down, I see the ghtter of a crown, I hear a name of high renown. While bright-robed myiiads stand and wait. The angel warder at the gate Makes fast the bars. Too late ! Too late ! 86 ©n n littttu 0f tJtnirt 'Tis she, the fairy city gay, " built on the flowing tide," The tln'one of merchant princes proud, the Adriatic's bride ; E'en as m beauty's bloom she stood, in sunlit days of yore. When myriad streamers flutter'd bright ]ier marble mansions o'er; When evening rays of burnish'd gold lay sleeping on her halls, And music, in a thousand songs, re-echo'd from her walls ; While glory crown'd her palaces, and Freedom's flag was there, And perfumes from the Orient came through the summer air. Pair Venice in her palmy days, bright, beautiful, and free ! Oh ! then to view that pageantry, her bridal with the sea. 37 To mark tlie graceful goudolas the flowing streets along. While at each stroke the boatman's oar kept time with Tasso's song ! O marble in the starshine ! mansions ffleamins: white ! How dazzliugly your columned roofs reflected back the hght ; The answ'rmg chime of voices sweet came fluting down the breeze. Like tones of fairy minstrelsy amid the forest trees. Still, Venice, stiU the deep blue wave is trembling at thy feet, And echoes of departed songs the list'ning spirit greet. glory's fading splendoui's ! your requiem comes to me Like music sweeping moui'ufully athwart the azure sea. Thou wert not wise in days of yore, Venice passing fair ! While flingmg back, with regal pride, the sparkles from thy hair: Thy sons were fetter'd to thy throne — in name alone the free ; O flasliing eyes, superbly proud ! for who was like to thee ? 38 How couldst thou hope for durance lonp^, an everlasting name. Thou, that to others didst deny what thou thyself didst claim ? 'Twere well had all remember'd tliis — all powers that e'er have reign'd : Who makes another's fetters strong, himself shall be enchain'd. fragile beauty, fleeting fast ! lovelmess supreme ! Gleaming across the suiiht waves, the city of a dream, 1 mourn, but yet I lowly bend, and own the just decree That made thy sceptre pass away from th' empire of the sea. Tliine alabaster palaces are crumbluig to the shore, Eor their glory hath departed — their music is no more ; An undertone comes heavmg up amid the waters blue : " So perish all who dare enslave the many for the few ! " 39 ^.1 FKOM THE ITALIAN OF FILICAJA. My country ! Italy ! thou to wliom The fates gave beauty's gift m evil hour ; From whence thou hast an ever-fruitful dower Of endless woe, and bear'st inscrib'd thy doom Upon thy brow. Were less thy beauty's bloom, Or more all-conqu'ring were thy virtue's power ; That less the spoiler loved, or at the lower Of thy proud eyes had sunk in endless gloom ; Thou wouldst not then behold in battled Kne Adown thy mountains GaUie banners w^ave, Nor crimson torrents stain thy rivers' shrine ; Nor, vainly struggling, strive thy rights to save ] Encompass'd round by other arms than thhie, Victor, or vanquish' d — still a fetter'd slave ! 40 BMUtl FROM THE SPANISH OF LUPERCIO L. DE ARGENSOLA. O THOU who art of death the coimterpart, Away, unwelcome sleep ! iior veil my sight Erom the sweet star, whose rich, transcendent light Forms the sole solace of my lonely heart. Hence to some tyrant's palace-halls depart, 'Mid jasper walls and gilded trappmgs bright ; Or haunt with dreams some wretched miser's night, Till, wild with terror, from his bed he start. One hears the tumult ; llaslmig in the air He sees aloft the rebel lances gleam. Raised as to strike, and cries in wild despair. Clear to the miser's ear the sound doth seem Of creaking locks, discovered riches rare ; But leave thou still to Love his waking dream ! 41 ^t 'gmmm d tl]e faliiut. " Whence com'st thou, lonely Palmer, Hast been in the Holy Land ? What gift of blessing bears thy soul ? Wliat rehques fill thine hand ? " Hast trod where Christian bamiers wave 'Mid the plains of Palestine ? And bath'd with tears a Saviour's grave. And worshipp'd at His slu-me ? " And when the crescent and the cross For mortal conflict met, Sa^v'st thou high flaslnng in the air The victor's coronet ? 42 " I would my barque were on the wave, Ainid the floating gale ; Or that I stood beside the brave, Beneath the warrior's mail. " My life is here a wasted thing ; Oh, teU of the saintly shrine ! High beats my heart, thou holy man, To hear that tale of thine." The hght was on the young Knight's brow. The fire was in liis eye. And the Palmer lean'd upon his staff, And gazed full silently. A voice the weary wanderer heard, A vision o'er him came ; By the young Knight's side in lofty pride, And spiiit thh-st for fame. 43 " youtli, whose step is proud aiid free, I've wander'd through many a land, But my soul still brings its burden back, And the palm-branch fiUs my hand. I have stood where red-cross banners wave, 'Mid the hosts of Palestine ; I have bowed beside the holy grave. In prayer to the Man Divine. When I went forth from the far-ofP north, I was young, Sir Knight, as thou ; The dwellers of my mountain towers Will Httle know me now. " On my Kfe is a cloud, and my form is bow'd. And silver hath streaked my hair. Yet have I not found on the sacred ground The peace that I thought was there." And wherefore, lonely PaLner ? A holy man like thee Should wear Hght heart if any may, And tread with bearmg free. " And yet, way-worn pilgrim ! Thou com'st with mournful tale ; The sound of thy voice, thou lonely man, Has in it a tone of wail. Why art not blest with the spirit-rest, Prom that most sacred land ? What crime unknown stiU bears thy soul, Wliat stain is on thy hand ? " The face of the Knight was flush' d full bright, A proud glance fiU'd his eye ; And the Palmer lean'd upon his staff. And thus he made reply :— 45 " "When the heart is worn, and the soul is torn, And the foujit of love is diied, The flag may be furl'd o'er aU the world, There is no joy beside. " When I was young— when I was young, — O youth ! at that same word, Dark visions throng around my soul. Sad memories are stm-'d, — " I ever was a dreamer then. Most lofty thought was muie : There are strange Hghts about our youth, We know not whence they shine ; We know not when they tend to truth. We know not whence they come ; They may be beacon-stai's from God, To hglit the spirit home. 46 " Such voices came across my soul, Such powers around me lay ; I walk'd amid my fellow-men With other thoughts than they. " But the voice is fled, and the Hght is dead. And sin hath dark'd the trace ; Look on me, friend, with a gentle eye, I've lost that early grace. " I loved the night with its dim, cold light. And the stars on the sparkluig sea, And the wavmg pmes in their forest shrines, Had a spirit voice for me. " Whenever I moved amid the crowd, I gazed another way ; Oh ! the lonely man has the deepest heart, Whate'er the world may say. 47 " They thought me cold, and shy, and strange, They let me Hve alone ; Nature was all the friend I had, My friend — and all my own. A vision glanced across my path (The wind moans low i' the poplar tree), She had a smile within her eyes, And smiled as she gazed on me. All lovely on my sight she rose. As the bow of heaven is fair ; As Hcjht that tints a sunset cloud. So was the light on her hair. " I was not form'd for the tourney fight, Nor lady's love, as thou ; The valour that lay in my heart Was void of outward show. 48 " A lonely youth ! I was, iii sooth, The sport of mail-clad men ; The glittering scarf and the waving plume But ill beseem'd me then. " There was no glory in mine eyes. No comeliness of face ; And a broider'd glove, and a lady's love, Found in my dreams no place. " When such a fount as this is stirr'd, It never rests again ; When such a heart once truly loves, Not death can break the chain. " Away ! Grown old before my time, A curse had come on me ; It was the pleasant summer time, Yet must I cross the sea. 49 " listen, young Knight, in this calm twihght, While I tell thee how it befell. As yon star she was fair, iii her golden hau-, And I loved her passing well ; "But another came, from a stranger cUme, Across the waters wide ; In the sunmier prime, one sunset time, I saw him by her side. ' He had a form of Grecian mould, A dark and lustrous eye ; He wore a scarf with woven gold On colour of the sky. " I watch'd them down each laiu*ell'd walk, I watch'd by fount and tree ; Arm lock'd in arm, in earnest talk. With never a thought of me. E 50 " A vow I heard liim wliispering speak Through the hush of the dreamy air ; A flush I saw upon her cheek. And read the answer there. " My guardian angel left me then, A prey to mine own despair ; A Hglit flash'd through the evergreens, The Kght that lances wear. " There is a crime upon my soul. There is a stain of blood ; Come close and know, — I speak fidl low, I slew hun where he stood ! " The young, the glad, the beautiful, The princely and the free ; Like thine, brave Knight, his eyes' proud light, — He was most hke to thee." 51 A cloud that darken' d all the moon Was floating in the sky. And the Palmer lean'd upon liis staff. And groan' d full bitterly. Upon my brow the mark of Cain, I fled the hated place ; I dare not hear her voice again, I dare not see her face. "Ifledforhfe, alas! for Hfe It scarce were worth the wimiiiio; ; My Hfe was there, death everywhere, For me, the deeply siiming. " My crime sat heavy on my soul, My dreams were dark by night ; I look'd upon the suuuner sky. And loath'd its azure hght. 52 " With blood on my hands, through stranger-lands, I have wander' d far and wide; But ever a vision before me stands. And a shadow at my side ! " The cloud had pass'd from off the moon. The stars were in the sky. The Palmer shook like an aspen leaf. In a mighty agony. " Oh ! sinning much, and sorrowful," The young Knight answer'd then " That maiden fair, in her sunlit hair. Did she look on the light agam ? " The Palmer's forehead darken'd stern, A flush o'er his pale cheek came : " Ask not of her ! for the deep woods stir To a wind aye breathmg her name. 53 " And tlie moaning pines, in their cold, dark shrines, May tell of her pale despair : With her gentle eyes, and her tender sighs. And the gleam on her golden hair ! " The fair, sweet moon shone up aloft, The stars were in the sky ; And the Palmer lean'd upon his staif. And wept full silently. And the young Knight cried, " With a heavy woe My spirit grieves for thine : There is rest in heaven — hast rightly striven ? — There is peace at the sacred shrine." But ever he said, " T^Hien the soul is torn, And the fount of love is dried. The flag may be fui-l'd o'er aU the world. There is no joy beside ! " 54 JfragiMnt This hold for aye as faith, my friend : — You may stand still, Waitmg, so choose you, while the gods descend ; But the strong will Moves all. We make our destinies. And I beheve Our high thoughts are most potent keys, Wlience we receive Access and entrance to deep mysteries. And this the difference 'twixt your truly great. And common minds : — One to all loftiness is consecrate ; He ever finds In meanest things a voice to elevate ; o5 His eye sees good in all that 's lowly, And thus applies The mean, the base, to services most holy : And this is wise. The other, in greatness what is base Discerns — or would ; Marking the scars on Nature's sweetest face, Blots on the good. Thus treading all the fair and lovely o'er ; Mistaking so Man's highest and sublimest altitude, "VVliich ui the shrine of sph-it solitude Is ever thus — to wonder and adore. As rivers flow Toward the great ocean evermore, God is the rest, the love, the life, the light : The souls are rays Convergent thither through our death. The night. The earthwom ways. And it were well could we so energise 56 Tlioughts, aims, and powers. Till like to sweetest incense might arise These souls of oiu's, Momently nearer to the parent skies. 57 '^rniL " O Roma ! Roma ! Roma I non fe pih come era prima I " O Rome ! how oft tlij memory comes to me. Fair as the sparlding of some far-off stream ; Sad as the sighing of the lonely sea, Bright as the glories of a simset dream ! Home of the Arts divine ! glorious land ! Where Raffaello's honour'd steps have been ; Where, crown'd in deathless beauty, statues stand With god-like brows immortally serene. 58 Beloved Rome ! tliou ever wert the dream That haunted me m cliildhood's early years. As from afar I saw thy beauty gleam In Iris-colours, wreath'd with show'ring tears. I long'd to tread where heroes, poets trod, To gaze on columns, temples all subhme. Lifting in silent eloquence to God The wrecks of beauty, and the spoils of time. Oh ! I had loved, when vesper shadows fell, Better than joyous tones 'neath sunb'ght's smile, To hear deep music, robed in mystic spell, rioatmg adown some dusky pOlar'd aisle. Yet, while I rev'rent paced that haUow'd ground, And my full soul could drink no rapture more. Then should I hear a spirit murmur round, " Home ! Rome, alas ! is as of old no more." 59 O glory's tomb ! still lit by goldeu gleams, That flutter round and sanctify tlie shrine, Where lonely Fancy, weeping, sits and dreams Of what was once, and still might be, divine. Moss robes thy monuments ; we seek in vain To read the name by glory's hand engraved ; And history only tells the echo'd strain. How once the banner'd eagle proudly waved. The nightly dew still o'er thy beauty falls. The stars look down upon thee as of yore ; The shades of buried heroes haunt thy walls, But, Rome, alas ! is as of old no more. As soft and cloudless still thy sunny skies. As when beneath their smile, upon her throne. The "Queen of Cities" sat in regal guise, And purple pride, majestic and alone. 60 And have they pass'd, tlie lofty souls of yore. All traces fading of what once hath been ? And art thou left to mourn thy splendours o'er. Thy beauty fled, thou sad, discrowned queen ? Not so ! by all thy freedom-hallow'd names. Thy drooping bamier shall be yet unfurl' d. Thy genius sleeps but as volcanic flames. Again to send its flashes through the world. Yet hast thou hero-sons, whose accents thrill The free-born souls that droop m tyrants' chains And whose heart-throbbings beat responsive still, To every tone of glory's deatliless strains. What though their country far their ashes fling ? Wliat though as exiles on a stranger shore They hang their harps on willow boughs, and sing, " Rome ! Rome, alas ! is as of old no more ? " 61 Still shall they proudly lift to heaven their bro^vs. Bright with a faith that never can decay ; Still may they raise to God their patriot vows^ And wait the dawning light of Freedom's day. The clouds are golden where Rome's sun hath set, Set, but with brighter gleams again to rise. The " ancient spiiit " is immortal yet. And her fair brow shall still salute the skies. I would, for once, a prophet's eye were mine, Rome of the future ! so that I might gaze On the rich beauties of thy form divuie, Crown'd with the splendours of the coming days. Away that fever thirst ! 'tis vaui, 'tis vain. The last faint echo of my song is o'er ; Oh ! that with it might die the plaintive strain, Rome ! Rome, alas ! is as of old no more. 62 S|t f ^gcni of Bml ^ttmla' There's tumult in Jerusalem ! And scorn and curses o'er Him fall, Wlio sat ill Heaven the Lord of all, And wore creation's diadem ! The hostile lances round Him shine. The heavy cross He bows beneath, Eor Jewell' d crown a thorny wreath He wears alone as regal sign. O Godlike brow ! eyes Divine ! O fainting spirit, dying breath ! Love that conqu'reth hell and death ! Was ever earthly love hke Thine ? 63 A woman witli her gentle hands, Her sweet, sad eyes^ her golden hair, She comes, 'midst fiends, an angel fair, She stands among the soldier bands. She walks amid the seorm'ng thronsr. Wild tears she cannot well repress Elow from her woman's tenderness At sight of such o'er-sweeping wrong. In strength from God, strong-hearted now. In earnest she hath onward press'd ; She draws her kerchief ft'om her breast, And wipes the Saviour's streaming brow. From off His brow with loving care She wipes the dews of comhig death ; Flung back the massive golden wTeath That shadow'd all her forehead fair. 64 The Roman spears make threat'iiiug sign, Regardless still she looks above, With all the might of eartlily love, A ministrant to love Divine ! The throng moved on, she stepp'd aside. And (so the legend) evermore Impressed thereon, that kerchief bore The image of the Crucified ! 65 %txm^tx k Ip (Dto &ml FROM THE FRENCH. Be faithful still, thou poor, dear coat of mine ! We, step for step, are both becoming old ; Ten years these hands have brush' d that naj) of thine, And Socrates did never more, I hold. When to fresh wear and tear, the time to be Shall force thy sore thinn'd texture to submit. Be pliilosophic, and resist like me, — Mine ancient friend, we must not sunder yet. Full well I mind, for I forget not much. The day that saw thee first upon me put ; 66 My birthday 'twas, and, as a crowning touch Unto my pride, my friends all praised thy cut. Thy indigence, which does me no disgrace. Has never caused these kindly friends to flit ; Each at my fete yet shows a gladsome face, — Mine ancient friend, we must not sunder yet. A goodly darn I on thy skirts espy. And thereby hangs a sweet remembrance still : Feigning one eve from fond Lisette to fly. She held by thee to baulk my seeming will. The tug was follow'd by a grievous rent. And then her side, of course, I could not quit ; Two days Lisette on that vast darning spent, — Mine ancient friend, we must not sunder yet. Have I e'er made thee reek with musky steams. Such as your self-admiring fools exhale ? Have I exposed thee, courting great men's beams, To chillmg scorn, or promise sure to fail ? 67 A strife for ribbons all the laud of France, From side to side, well nigh asimder split ; From thy lapeUe nothing but wild flowers glauce, — Mine ancient friend, we must not sunder yet. Fear no renewal of those courses vain, Those madcap sports which once employ'd om- hours ; Hours of commingled joyfuhiess and pain. Of sunshine chequer'd here and there with showers. I rather ought, methiiiks, thy faded cloth From every future service to acquit ; But wait awhile, one end will come to both, — Mine ancient friend, we must not sunder yet. 68 %\lt Stoo Iraprs, It was the hour of evening prayer, — there came a goodly throng, Within that dim cathedi^al church to jom the vesper song. And she was there amid the crowd, and on the altar stair, As if she were alone she knelt, o'erwhelm'd with deep despair. She did not heed the many eyes upon her beauty turn'd ; One vision still oppress'd her heart, one grief within her burn'd. The tones of holy minstrelsy, the solemn anthem strain, They were like voices in a dream — as meaningless and vain. 69 Strange tumult reign'd within her soul — there came a gush of tears. Deep — wild — as if it bore along the passion flood of years ; And " Ave, Mary ! " was her prayer, and " Mary ! " still she prays, " Oh ! give me back the love of old — the light of other days ! " A deeper gloom o'erspread the aisles — the altar lamp grew dim, And fainter still the echoes came as died the vesper hymn ; She Hsten'd for an answ'ring voice — but no response was given. The marble steps were cold as death, and silence was in heaven. 70 II. Within that same cathedral chui-ch once more she stood — alone ; When from her cheek, and brow, and eye, yonth's lovehness had flown ; She wander'd down the gloomy aisles — no worshippers were there ; And on the altar steps she knelt — cahn, though in deep despair. The sunset's parting gleam came down to kiss the pictured pane. Upon the marble stone it flung full many a crimson stain. There was a hush withui the air — no holy chant arose To fill the aisles with joy, and break the spuit-like repose. 1 A broken reed, she lowly bent — life's passion-dream was o'er, And there were tears, repentant tears — not like to those of yore. And murmurs of a purer faith fix'd on the cross divine ; " One name alone — one sacrifice — one everlasting shrine ! " I Fair shone the symbol of the cross — the altar lamp was bright, There came a gleam like trembhng stars, athwart her spirit's night : She listen'd for an answering voice, and peace divine was I given ; The marble steps were cold as death, bat gladness was in heaven ! 79 %\n Itonickss %\tn^ (X^VV*«»V^^t^h- (-V. Nameless tliey fell, but not unwept — Goi>, from h's tkrone in heaven, The deep remembrance still hath kept. The tears that then were given. The tears that fell as purple rose The dawnlight o'er the plam — The tears that fell at sunset close Upon the nameless slain. • How went they forth ? — with solemn tread ?- With bamiers in the sun ? The sun — that watching overhead — Grew dim o'er what was done. 73 One pulse beat tlirougli that people's breast, One vision fill'd the sky, One hope sublimed, one dream of rest. One shout — of Liberty ! The same true faith, the same deep love, The same firm trust was given ; The same strong prayer was borne above. By angel-bands to heaven. They came not back with laurell'd brows. With shout and trumpet sound ; Fall'n in that field which heard their vows. They keep it holy ground. hills whose green is streak'd with red ! light from Freedom's shore ! noble people ! nameless dead ! God bless ye evermore ! 74 It shall be so ; for truth and right Ilust flourish o'er this world of ours ; And wave their standards in the light, Triumphant from earth's topmost towers. The powers of wrong shall fall beneath The Kght Ithuriel lance of truth ; And glorious as the soul from death. The world shall rise to second youth. The sun that shone on Paradise, Shall light our changing paths once more ; The air shall ruig with melodies. And knowledge stretch from shore to shore. 75 Ideals that liigli dreamers sought, Shall hve amid the world of men ; And all the poetry of thought Shall blossom into action then. God speed the time ! and all is well (Doubt not while He is throned above) Our earth's vast brotherhood shall dwell In peace, and unity, and love. 76 ®to BmutL I. Before my soul tlie memory of a face Is present now. Clear, spiritual eyes, Wliose gaze is fix'd most often on the skies ; Pale, thoughtful brow ; and on the cheeks a trace Of tears. Flow on, flow on, sweet tears, apace ! Tor fairest through such penitential guise, Shines out the hght that comes from Paradise, Through Christ's true sacrifice and God's good grace. In vigils oft, and prayerSj thy soul hath striven, If so the outward stamp I read aright. To suffer much — this gift to thee Was given ; And through the trial still kept burning bright The inner lamp — for fire from highest heaven Touch'd the pale sparkle with divinest light. 77 II. That memory liaiints me still. Sweet, earnest eyes. Ye shine before me in my lonely ways ; My startled spirit fronts your steadfast gaze. That wakes to hfe my deepest sympathies. For oh ! I feel a spell within you lies To soften and subdue. Sing thy wild lays. Thou hero, I will listen so. No praise I give to thee— the power within me dies. I can but kneel beside, and pour for thee Blessmg and prayer. Ah ! thou hast suffer'd long ; Unkno'SMi, yet dear — thou dream, thou mystery, Stand firm and true amid the world-wide tlnong ; And through the crowd-hke forest whispers free, Hear thou the Ave breathed in this poor song. 78 pst aiii '§xm\\l With pale, fair face, and golden hair, In the rich, full flush of youth, A lover of the beautiful. And a seeker after truth ; Two spirits sought to bind liis soul In fetters strong and fast : The Spirit of the Present Years, And the Angel of the Past. The Past, she gave him minster glooms, And solemn shades in antique rooms, 79 And banners waving free, And chants in dim catliedral aisles. And carved saints with heavenward smiles. And martial mmstrelsy. Eair memories of heroic time. Of earnest love, of faith sublime. Of strength to martyrs given. By which, tlu'ough suifermg deep, they trod The path from scorning men to God, From earth to highest heaven. And lofty lays and legends quaint Of tlu-oned king, of hero, samt, And gorgeous fantasies ; And shadows with rich dream-hght hued. And voices with, strange power endued, And purple pageantries. The Present gave liim teachings stern. And " thoughts that breathe, and words that bum," 80 Tliroiigli all the depths of night. And shoutings of a voiceless hymn. Of future years the echoings dim, To change the wrong to right ; She pomted to the orient skies, Ah'eady bright with Tyrian dyes, Before the morning cliime ; She bade him list the voices true, The desert singers, strong, though few. Who sang " the coming time." She held him with a mighty sway, " Thine is the sun that lights to-day, Then let the ages rest." One loving glance towards the Past, The fitful, lingering dreamer cast, As doubting which were best. He reft in twain the spirit cham, Unfetter' d, free he stood, 81 Among the steadfast and the true, The noble and the good. He strove for truth, and peace, and Hght, As all high souls have striven ; He rose a \ictor from the fight. And wore a crown in heaven. G 82 f Algernon MY yoimg brother witli the clear, blue eyes, Sweet smiles, and rose-hued cheeks, and golden hair ; And quiet voice, and frank, bright face, that tries So oft the look of still, deep thought to wear ! Whene'er I gaze upon thy broad, fan' brow, Whereon the stamp of promise rich is sealed. And through thine eyes, wherein are sleeping now The depths of earnest feeling unrevealed, 1 cannot choose, dear boy, but breathe the prayer That all we hope, thy future path may be — That thou mayst rise the good, the true, the fail-. And so fulfil thy childhood's prophecy. S3 That Future veiled, untried, — it shines for me With ii'is of bright hopes 'mid falling tears : A strange, sweet di-eani. But oli ! for thee, God keep the faith, the love of early years ! Oh ! still preserve the childlike trust witliin The man's large heart ; and these tln-ough life be thine— The soul of lofty thought, the conscience clear from sin, The joy supreme, the peace that is divine. Unselfish, high and true, like those of yore "Who fought life's battle well, nor cared for praise ; Stand firm and brave for right, as he who l^ore Thy Christian name amid the olden days. My little, gentle playmate, deemest thou The thoughts awakened by thy dear-loved name Too solemn and too grave ? Art thinking now 'Twere better far to have some joyous game ? Then quit thy boo;?:, thy pencil, and thy slate — The summer airs blow soft and sweet to-day — And we will race bevond the meadow 2:ate, Far as the hedge, white with the weakh of May. 84 ^t gtaJ^ ila$|iicL' They came to give a last farewell^ the young, the glad, the gay, To hmi who low before them there in pale, cold silence lay ; He rested calm with clasped hands, with rich disparted hair. And though the lovmg glance was gone, the beauty still was there. And thus they met — a princely band — the rich, the great, the proud, The scholar and the patron liigh, ahke in homage bow'd. With solemn steps and downcast eyes, with hush'd and reverent breath, Before the awful presence of the majesty of death. 85 And " pictured dreams " were bright around, but chief among them rose That grand transfigured form tliat shone in most divme repose — The hkeness of the victor Chuist, when unto earth was given Ghmpse of the glory that He wore among the thrones of heaven. Ah ! it was well that they should place the cold and Hfeless clay Beneath the image of the trutli, the life, the light, the way — Of Him, the holy priest, to whom the Father God had given, The mastery over death and hell, the fau'cst crown in heaven. And he who pictured that bright scene lay still in childlike rest ; The wreath unheeded on his brow, the purple on his breast. He might not hear if nations rose to greet him with acclaim ; He might not hear the voice of love that lowly breathed his name. They gazed upon the life-Hke forms his hand had loved to trace And on the marble pure and stUl of his pale sleepmg face ; 80 His crenius briirlit with hues of heaven still "skied them overhead," And 'mid that flush of power and light, they scarce could deem him dead ; And hearts that never felt before, were touch' d and bleeding then, And sighs were breathed, and tears were in the e^^s of lofty men. Then slowly moved the reverent crowd — they left the sacred spot. But that hush'd room, and that pale corse, they never more forgot ! 87 Wljt fast |:ig|t of tlje iraims.' A HALL for solemn banquet deek'd, but not for festal glee ; A voice of converse high, but not the sound of revelry ; And richest viands, choicest wines, and gold and gems were there, And perfumes from the far, far East came through the mid- night air. And vases of rich traceried work were ghttering around — The crystal bright, the silver white, and all with garlands crown'd. For flowers were there — the pure, the sweet — a bright and radiant wreath, Amid that hghted prison hall, to grace the feast of death. 88 And there were they, the "hero men" with lofty "lighted brows ;" The doomed, whose fire and eloquence once thrUl'd through patriot vows ; . And still from soul and lip mspired, the sweetest accents fell, As 'mid that hour of strange, wild dread, they murmur' d forth farewell ! ! An awful band, for " one was not " — he lay beside them there. Whose hand had " forced the gates of death," in the night of his despair; And when the morrow's sun shall come to chase the shadows dim. So will the dead Valaze's friends arise and follow him. And mingled with the breath of flowers, arose the voice of song, To steep m rapture high the soul of that devoted throng ; 89 And there spake one amid the pause of music's trancing strain : " Courage ! my friends ; in yon far land we yet may meet again ! " Though shades of death were round them there, yet burning thoughts arose, In words from Hps soiil-eloquent, to shake the dread repose ; But chief was heard the voice of one with glad inspiring strain ; " Courage ! my fiiends ; in that far land we yet may meet again ! " 90 %\lt Mukxtf^ ^vetern. You have come back to us, mv brother. With your pale and thoughtful brow ; Is the joy of old about your path ? Is your " life-rose " blooming now ? You left us, dear, for a fairer clime. And a brighter sun than ours ; For the deep repose of forest shades, And the gold of orange bowers. We half rejoiced that you were not here When our winter's skies grew dim ; Eor we rightly deem'd — " a glorious sun There shmes afar for him ! " 91 And oh ! when your first dear letter came, How the gladness flash'd through tears ; For each word of cheer and blessing fell Like a silence on our fears. And although you said that chme was bright. And although that land was fair, " There was no place like your own dear home To be met with anywhere ! " You have come back to us, my brother. To your cliildliood's home once more. To tlie music of the loyins; voice. To the warm, true hearts of yore. You have come back to us, my brother. With your pale and thoughtful brow ; And the star of Hope about your path, Is it beaming brighter now r 92 Does it point from earth to that fair clime Wliere tlie smisliine sliiiietli best ? Where the wanderer's weary soul may find Both a refuge and a rest ? We bid you welcome back, my brother, To vour childhood's home once more, To the music of the lovmg voice. To the warm, true hearts of yore. OQ 'J ''ferfctt %mtgl] Suffering/' There is one faith that leads above, Through diverse ways, 'mid doubts and fears ; One baptism we all must prove — The baptism of tears. There is one lore we aU must learn, The lore that comes through suff 'ring deep ; Yet they who sow in grief, discern In gladness they shall reap. There is one path we all must tread. The path of trial to the grave ; One hopeful heaven is overhead, One arm is strong to save. 94 Doubt not amid the mystery, Quail not beneatli the darkest frown For they who bear the cross shall see The glory of the crown. And whose the arm on which we lean, Wlien weary from " the shocks of hfe ? " And whence the star whose dazzhng sheen Lights up the field of strife ? And who the mighty One, so strong To guide and comfort aU who grieve. To whom the voice of prayer and song Ascendeth morn and eve ? We pause amid our changing fears. To seek tliis questioning's reply ; One hand we mark through all our tears, Tliat points us to the sky. 95 Tlie crowned and victor saints, all tliey Who once this hero march-way trod, Shout to us from their perfect day, "Behold the Christ of God !" 96 §m\\tt FROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRAECA. The dear, sweet eyes I erst was wont to praise, The graceful form, tlie air so free of guile, That rendered me from self a glad exHe, And cro\Tned me lonely 'mid the city ways ; The clust'ring locks that shone as golden rays, And the hghtning of the angelic smUe That made of earth a Paradise the while It flashed : all dust with which the vv'ild whid plays, And yet I hve, 'mid perils and 'mid fears. Without the hght I loved so weU and long ; A fragile barque that oft the wreck-sand uears. Here be the end of all my loving song ; The spring is dry though watered oft with tears, The music of my soul is all read wrong. OT U7 S'^nge mxWw. Thou, standing 'inid the victors' palms, Enwreatli'd witli amarautliine balms, O guardian, friend ! I look to tliee, Whose prayers are ever breathed for me, And mingle with the harmony Of Heaven's endless psalms. O thou whose "years perpetual" sliine In the rich Hght of " God's divine," Thy look stm seeks my earth-bound ways. Amid the pause of heavenly praise ; Thy pity crowns my changing days — I bow before thy shrine ! H 98 not iu worship ; but with sighs 1 know may well and blameless rise. Seraph, to claim thy pitying love ! Eor this in hope I look above, So that perchance my soul may prove Angelic sympathies. I gaze in dreams upon thy face, It wears no cloud, no shadowy trace Of grief, of sin, of earthly scene ; But joy, unfaihng, ever green, The sunsliiue of the peace serene. That Hghts a happy place. Thou tak'st no count of glorious years, While yet mine eyes are dimm'd with tears ; Thy seraph splendours burn the while, I scarce can frame but one poor smile. Because strange thoughts my heart beguile. And fantasies and fears. 99 And 'mid thy gladness can'st thou know The pathos and sublhne of woe. And crown with love these weeping eyes. And give me pity for these sighs, Pahn-sceptred saint of Paradise : Ah ! dark the shadows grow ! For " we who tread the earth alone," With good and evil round us strewn. We know not how to choose the right ; We gaze, we see with dazzled sight The reflex of the flashing hght That bathes the sappliire tlnone. We see the glory, hear the song That floats amid the starry throng ; We faU from heaven to earth again ; We caU on Christ in earnest strain. And when we feel all weak and vain, Then only are we strong. 100 True strength is there. Still every day Thy shadow crosses all my way. Angel, whose wings stretch out so wide. Oh ! be thou ever at my side. To warn, to comfort, and to guide — A guardian and a stay I 101 f Ije geautifitl tan ncter gie. " Were it not for music we might almost say, the beautiful is dead." — Disraeli. A VOICE was on tlie lonely breeze^ A voice of wail and dread ; It mnrmured through the forest trees, It came across the moaniiig seas. O'er the dark sky, through the pine woods, " The beautiful is dead ! " Par 'midst the " torrid vastitudes " — " The beautiful is dead ! " Strange sounds were in the earth and air. And mystery and dread ; x^ blight had fallen everywhere, It was a vision of despair. »> 102 Stars above stern watch were keeping, The beautiful was dead ! Earth and heaven were wildly weeping. The beautiful was dead ! All drooping were the autumn flowers, And dry the streamlet's bed ; And withering bare the forest bowers. Sad darkness reigned athwart the hours. Pierced only by the flashmg levin That lightened overhead ; While thunder's voice proclaim'd tlu-ough Heaven, "The beautiful is dead!" * * * * * Then the storm sank back to silence. All the air was still as death : Not a murmur through the liighlands. In the forest not a breath. Hush ! — it came so very faintly. Then it rose serene and clear. 103 Like an anthem full and saintly, On the tranced listening ear. It is the voice of angel-singing 'Mid the star enwreathed throng. And well I hear the accents ringing, And the burden of the song. " The beautiful can never die ! Arise ! ye weepers, and be strong. Its life is immortality, Its home is in the glad free sky, With God and with eternity. Arise ! ye weepers, and be strong. The beautiful can never die ! " Wliile unto man below is given The staff of life, the daily bread ; While God still reigns amid the heaven. And while His stars shme overhead, 104 Howe'er we wallc in mystery, However dark the frowning sk}^, No more on earth can ring this cry- " The beautiful is dead!" :^; 105 Bmml II fato, Credi fe tremendo, perchfe I'uomo fe vile; Ed un codardo tu colui che primo Un Dio ne fece. — V. Monti. With liigli-souled Monti, cowardly I deem Him who first made a god of destiny ; For our "life- statue/' I believe, may be Shaped from the shadows of youth's earnest dream. So rainbow- wreathed ^vith many a fau'y gleam — Until it rise bright as that fantasy, A thing of hght all beautiful and fi'ee, In front of earth and heaven. Thus it should seem That he who steadfast stands through good and ill, Who yokes blind Eortune's coursers to liis car. 106 Who through strange failures works untiring still, Until all adverse powers are driven far. Shall conquer Fate through the resistless will, And rise crowned victor o'er his evil star. 107 |i W4iim a^^^ ^ l!i*^i ^f 3^^f^* " Does my old friend remember me ? " We two were friends iu early days, The selfsame games we played ; Two children in the same green wood, We, hand in hand, have strayed. With the sweet sun- smile overhead We talked together then ; Strange things I thought of this wide world. Of great and lofty men. 108 There was a flashing in your eye I could not understand; And now, my friend, they say you are A noble in the land ! We parted on youth's threshold free. And ne'er to meet again, I lost you 'mid the city ways, The shock and crowd of men. And still my dwellmg is beside My childhood's fairy streams ; That world of yours I only know Through fancy's wilder'd dreams. And long I deemed you would return. Grown great, and wise, and good. And talk of olden times with me. Amid the winding wood. 109 We tliou2rlit of you — vre villa2:ers ; We watched — joii never came ; And so at last for weariness, We seldom breatlied your name Nor heard it breathed — until one day, A change !— for it was then A triumph, and a burning word Upon the hps of men. They say, you glance athwart the world As from a kms-lv throne ; That honours rich, and showers of wealth About your path are strewn. They say, strange power is on your Hps, That kings attend your word ; That by the might your spnit wields, A people's heart is stkred. 110 And thougli you must indeed be changed, I think of you the same As in old days — before you heard The " clarion breath " of fame. childhood's friend ! I see you still With that same look you wore ; Wliat time we parted on the bridge To meet on earth no more. Your kmdhng glance of boyish pride, Your wild and wayward grace, Your low and earnest tones, — the flush That lightened o'er your face. And here I rest! — the chestnut woods, Where we so often play'd, Are full in bloom — my cottage home Is close beneath then- shade. Ill And I am poor — but still my heart Beats glad to hear your praise ; Ah ! surely you have not forgot The friend of early days ! 112 ^VW ^l O FRIENDS ! the liamitiug shadows of the night So darkly, thickly, round my pillow crowd, Scarce is there left enough of God's dear light To see your weeping faces o'er me bowed. The stream flows faster yet — my trembling sail Nears the dim confines of the untried shore. Soon will it front the battlmg of the gale No more ! Come, clasp my hands that I may know ye near, O friends beloved ! I found tliis life so fair, 113 I have driiiik happiness so deeply here. Scarce woidd I wish to breathe diviner air, bright and beauteous earth ! 1 did rejoice In every phase thy varying- aspect wore ; Now shall I hymn thy praise with full glad voice No more ! 1 was a king among my fellow men ; The laurel waved triumphant on my brow ; Pluck off this crown— it was a glory then, But all its ghttering leaves are fading now. Think ye I need this wreath the wliile I stand 'Mid the pale shadows of the silent shore ? A voice repHes from that far spirit land — No more ! And I was loved. friends ! your kisses fell On my parched hps like dew on fainting flowers ; Your hearts replied to mine — Farewell ! farewell ! Oh ! saddest words that dark this earth of oui's. I 114 Affection's wealth — looks, smiles, and blissful tears, Our glad, bright days of tender converse o'er — Shall these come back with all the glowing years ? No more ! I go ! the tangling cords of earthly love, When I would rise, so bind my spirit down, Scarce can I hft my weeping eyes above. Where I might see the sparkle of the crown : The angels sing — Love is immortal there — I go ! from death to Hfe on that bright shore. Where voice of parting echoes through the air No more ! 115 f^ .c^ TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF OEHLENSCHLCEGER. The Elfiu dwells in lier rock-built hall, The Pilgrim sits by the waterfall ! The waves foam upward as white as snow. With din from their rocky bed below. " Sir Pilgrim, leap ui this rushing river, And be my true love for ever and ever. ■ I will loosen the bonds of thy soul for thee, Shalt merrily dance in the woods with me ; Leap, Pilgrim ! nor Hnger so tardily. Thy limbs shall become like the ivory ; Thou shalt gaily rest m the coral hall, Wliile over thee storms the waterfall." 116 The Pilgrim shudders, he fain would go — Eauit and th'ed, he is powerless now. The Ellin stands with her golden hair. She reaches the goblet with water clear. The Pilgrim drank of the draught so cold, Like waters of death through his veins it rolled. A shivering runs through marrow and blood. Ah ! he hath drunk of the death-draught good. He sinks 'mid the bloom of the flow'ry bed, — And there lies the Pilgrim pale and dead ! His spirit hath gone where the wild waves sound. His body rests on the cold, damp ground. Now is the soul from the body free. It wanders of nights by the greenwood tree. In Spring, when the stream flows with arrowy flight, The Ellin doth dance with the Pilgrim sprite ; Then shines the pale moon through the greenwood tree. O'er his form that gleams like the ivory. 117 %llt Cits af t\t Bml We wauder o'er this earth of ours, a \vildered pilgrim band, Seeking, 'mid strange and devious paths, the spirit's cliosen land, Howe'er we know, through Ught and gloom, the varied seasons roll, Yet shall we never find on earth the City of the Soul ! Were all the gifts this world can give, in proud profusion set Before our gaze, stOl should we tlnrst for faker visions yet ; Yov aye, amid the restless tides of suffering and sin, Through good and ill we bear the type of nobler tlmigs withhi. 118 Tliough brig'litly gleam mv fair life-star, tliougli friends be thronging round, And on their lips dear words of love, like music's sweetest sound ; Though visions of the beautiful about my pathway shine, 'Midst all I feel this wild, deep tliirst for "something more divine ! " When silence deep is gathered round, and solemn, sacred night. Athwart the dark I see a flash of sphitual light ; And while afar I hear the flow of tliis world's surging stream. Shadows of gome subhmer life come o'er me like a dream. I hear rich music, soft and sweet as that of seraph bands. Before me, like an angel fair, a bright ideal stands ; I cannot grasp these shapes divine, they fade before my view. The holy and the beautiful, the perfect and the true 1 119 Ah! only there, beyond the grave, in glorious realms above — There lies the rest, the joy, the calm, in God's wide heart of love- Beyond this life of smiles and tears, where suns and seasons roll, There Ues the spirit's home, —and there the City of the Soul ! 120 ^t i'ditx. PROM THE ITALIAN. Underneath the burning sun He labours till the day be done, Glad, as borne on joy's bright wings. Still the Fisher laughs and sings. He rows away, Liglitsome and airy, never aweary. The Eisher gay. And now safe on shore, Wlien his labour is o'er. He will sell in the market so broad and free, The fish he has caught in the deep blue sea ; 121 Oh ! tlirice happy and blessed is he ! He rows away. Lightsome and airy, never aweary, The Eisher gay. Having retm-ned to his own liearth side. He may say, perchance, to his faithful bride. As he looks through her eyes' pure shine, — " I have laboured, dear wife, on the sea far and wide, But loving and loved thou art mine ! " He rows away. Lightsome and ah-y, never aweary, The Eisher gay. " And to-morrow, dear Tizzy, At the tuiMing of the bell. We will go and pray together To ' Our Lady of the WeU.' " He rows away. Lightsome and airy, never aweary, The Eisher gay. 122 ^tttx tlie I attic. I CHANT no soug of victofj, no gift of flowers I bring, Upon the grave of heroes dead with laurel wreaths to fling ; 'Tis said the men were brave and true — I hear the people's shout ; Within I feel the solemn woe — though joy runs wild without. I catch the voice of revehy, the ringing of the beUs, Right merrily upon the breeze their triumph-music swells. No tears for those thus doomed to death ; the trumpet tongue of fame, Por light,' and life, and love, gives back the echo of a name ! 123 Wild rushing like a fiery fate the storm of war came on, Like lances gleaming in the sun, the flashing courage shone ; So young, so glad, so high of hojDe, the gallant hosts went by. Across the mirror of my dream — pale thousands, let them lie ! By sea, and shore, and fortress-tower, the thronguig armies fell ; They paid in blood for glory's crown — my brothers, was it weU? I see them through a mist of tears, some lying stern and cold, As if before their eyes in death an awful vision rolled. And others — on their Hps still sealed the spnbol of His love, Whose Gospel breathes of peace alone, in earth and heaven above ; One wore a smile in memory of childhood's days gone by — God gives to some a blessed di'eam ere they are called to die. And many ^vl•ithed m agony, in fever's raging pain. With curses quivermg on their Hps, and madness in their brain ; 124 And some were found amid the pause to battle's tumult given, In sad appealing silentness, with faces turned to heaven. And this is glory ! This is fame ! Our good, our true, our brave ! A bay-wreathed crown for death-cold brows, a triumph for a grave ! And ah ! the living^ loving ones, whose light of hfe is gone. The maiden weeps her plighted love, the mother mourns her son. Across the smoke of burning tovvms, across the heaps of slaia, 'Mid sighs, and tears, and groans, and blood, — throughout the battle-plain. There comes a cry from all these scenes of waste, and woe, and wrong, It strikes the gates of Paradise — "How long, Lord, how long ? " 125 ,e Wm m Hit Miiimtess. " The voice said, ' Cry,' and iie said ' What shall I cry ? ' " "What shall I cry?" the Singer said; A sleeping world beneath him lay, The dawTi was breaking overhead, The shadows of the night had fled ; Far in the East there flamed instead. The fiery blush of day. " What shall I cry ? " — a voice rephed. Through the sweet silence of the skies, " Proclaim from morn till eventide, Though clouds awhile her splendour hide, Truth's Hght shall flash in regal pride, To shame each foul disguise. 126 " Proclaim from momitain heiglit to sea, Our Father God sits throned above, Lord of the worlds — and brethren we ; (When shall we strive together free. One great and grand fraternity, Fast bound in bonds of love ?) " Pierce through the gloomy mystery, With voice that rings out clear and brave, God in His high Eternity, Wills that all men live glad and fr*ee, — If He be father, brethren we, Who dares to own a slave ? " Across the crowd of captives call. And bid them look to heaven afar, Wliile tln-ough the cloud, bright over all, A light shall gild their prison wall. The giant of Despair shall fall, Before Hope's conqu'ring star. 127 " Wliat shall I cry ? — o'er land and sea. From earth below to heaven above, Shout through the blue immensity, This word of blessing full and free, The song tliat fills eternity. The holy name of Love ! " .28 Sa|at maji bt We know right well tliis life of ours may be " A thing of beauty" and " a joy" — and we Must labour so to use our destiny. And lift to God pure hands, and hearts, and eyes, That, freed from earth, at last our souls may rise To Ught and Kfe, and seraph sympathies. Some only deem our world a " vale of tears," With no sweet Iris o'er its changing years, But darkness, death o'er all, and doubts and fears. 129 Not so in truth ; natui'e, above, around, is fair, With thousand flowerets scenting all the aii', And birds, and music — beauty everywhere. The outward thus — a lovely world in sooth ; And for the world within, if we have truth. Faith, love, and in the heart the dews of youth, So to conserve bright thoughts in ripest age, If noble deeds shine on the soul's fair page, I say we have a goodly heritage ! Sorrow is well, to strengthen and refine, — That is the cloud ; and then God's sun shaU shine. And throw on all a golden hght divine. All things may aid the soul m perfectmg ; Life should be one great psalm, and ring Like the proud shoutmgs of a victor king. K 130 So should we tread our upward path, that lies 'Mid light and shade, and deepest mysteries. In tune with God and nature's harmonies. Then death shall be no terror, but a night On which shall break the fullest noon-tide light. And love and joy, and glories infinite. 131 ^*VV^S ^,P " What is the secret of the world. The mystery of Life ? " So cried a youth with flag unfurled. Amid the battle-strife. Nobly, unshrinkingly he bore His part among the rest ; Though questions strange, and doubtings sore. Made tumult in liis breast. Where others long had turned aside Before such phantom thi'ong. He faced it in his sphit's pride, 'Mid scorn, and hate, and wrong. 132 And tlirougli the silence of the night A " still small voice " he heard ; With touch of angel fingers light, His heart's wild chords were stirred. And the sweet voice, low wliisp'ring, said, " Life's mystery is great ; . Forbear vam di-eams, and ' learn' instead, ' To labour and to wait.' " Work ever on m faith and love To reach the victor's wreath ; God's boundless skies are bright above, God's earth is fair beneath ! " So act that all thy hfe may be A sacrifice and prayer, Rising to heaven reverently, Like incense on the ah. .33 ' And when King Death, the spoiler stern, Shall end the battle-strife, The crown be thme, and thou slialt learn The mystery of Life." 134 |0r &ktl |0r &txl Two lives, but one heart, for ever, for ever — Oil, nothing on earth tins love-knot can sever ! The httle bhds chanted back — " Ever, for ever ! " Ear in the greenwood by the fair river. What wonder, what wonder, my heart should surrender At once to the spell of those eyes deep and tender ; Those magical eyes so dewy and tender. With long, drooping lashes that veiled half their splendour. She stood like a picture in some olden story — The gold-hght came tlu'ough yon pine branches hoary ; .35 Came softened aud rich tlirougli the forest boughs hoary,' And turned each fair braid to a circlet of glory. Just three words she said, not hard to discover. Though fauitly she breathed them — these words I dream over ! Smiles, tears, words, and blushes, I count them aU over. As a miser his gold, like a true-hearted lover. Ah ! sad was my life amid the world's scorning, The night of my soul ne'er looked for a dawning ; musical woodland ! faii-est June morning ! She came like a sunbeam, and changed it to morning. 1 thank thee for this, God ! Thou great giver ; This day of all days so hallowed for ever. When life was a song, its biu'den " for ever ! " Far in the greenwood by the fair river. 186 II. False, do you tell me ? Ah never ! all never ! Dead ? when I hiow that she walks there for ever. Or waits — or waits for me Beneath the blasted tree, Deep in the wild-wood, by the dark river. Dreams, and di-eams only — I'll dream then for ever ; Dream that no povfer that love-knot could sever. Though lances flashed so bright In blood-red sunset fight, Deep in the wild-wood, by the dark river. Aspens for ever rnoan there and shiver, Over the deep wave pale moonbeams quiver ; And she, so young, so fan-. With hands aye clasped m prayer. Ghost-like she stands beside the dai'k river. 137 Sadly she looks, and lier pale lips quiver, Surely she whispers — " For ever, for ever ! " Dear bride, what would'st with me ? wait ! I'll haste to thee. Deep in the wild-wood, by the dark river. Mine, she is mine, for ever, for ever ! Stay me not, friends, though with cold dread I shiver, 1 go — I go to meet My life, my death, my sweet, Deep in the wild-wood, by the dark river ! 138 '§nkn aniy tljt gaaaitr. WiTH proud and lofty brow uplift, and earnest kindling eye, A poet-dreamer stood beneath God's great o'erarcliing sky ; The setting sun was on the sea, w^hose mighty waters rolled With love-gifts from the Lord of light, with purple and with gold. In high majestic beauty crowned, with banners bright unfurled, Nature before the Poet stood, a fair and wondrous world ; And steeped his soul in boundmg life, in rapture deep and wild, So that he felt once more indeed a simple joyous child. The Poet loved old Nature well, — the busy haunts of men, Once m despair he madly fled, nor thought to seek again ; 139 And 'mid the fair " blue solitudes " lie found a reverent love Upon the mountain altars, with the 'watchmg heaven above. " hfe so fi-ee and beautiful ! world so strans^elv fair ! trees and flowers, and f^orgeous skies ! gladsome summer air! It is a rapture high to breathe, a joy to feel the sun. To di'eam of life unmortal still, when human hfe is done." " Ah ! is it thus ? Then surely truth must reach that soul of thine, — minstrel, deemest thou thyself than Nature more divine ? Beheve it stm ! for crowning joys, and suffermgs, and death. These are thy proud prerogatives, and these thy kingly wreath. " 'Tis thine to search and comprehend the world-deep mysteries. Nobler in this than stars and suns, and fan* insensate skies. The soul may pierce through earth and heaven, the beautiful, sublime. And reign in regal majesty beyond the shores of time. 140 " Then was it well to shun thy kind, to whom one God hatli given The same fair dreams, the same high powers, the same sweet hopes of heaven ? All ! rather work together still, Gob smihng from above, One father and one brotherhood m sympathy and love." The Dreamer felt the stern rebuke ; — a thousand harmonies Rose from the depths of Nature's heart, and filled the earth and skies ; The perfume of a peace divme o'er all the land was borne, And in that calm his soul laid down the burden of its scorn. His spirit woke to bright new hfe, and lofty counsels then. High hopes and olden memories came o'er hun once agam ; His eye with mspiration glowed, his soul was flushed with light, He fell amid the ranks of men, to combat for the right. 141 A LEGEND.^ Elizabeth passed through her princely haUs, Aud so out through the postern door. And over the moat, and round by the walls, With a load of alms for the poor. Good deeds are best practised in secret, they say. For if known they lose half their grace ; So thought the fan* saint as she met on her way With her lord retui-n'd from the chase. 142 " And what dost tliou here, sweet lady ? " he said, " What hast iii thy robe ? tell me true :" Aud notlimg she answered, but ever instead The closer her mantle she drew. He listened to hear what the lady might say. But for httle he held her prayer ; He made her unfasten her robe straightway, Just to see what was liidden there. Behold ! her fair cheek with deep blushes burned. As humbly she bowed her head ; The load of alms in her mantle was turned Into roses of white and red. Ear sweeter the roses than any that grew On earth in the bright summer time ; All lovely and fresh, and sparkling with dew. Though now 'twas the cold wuiter's prime. 143 " Fulfil thy blest mission ! " Lord Louis lie said, And he gathered a rosebud wliite ; As awful her face as the face of the dead, And as fair as an angel bright. Exceeding the noontide splendour of day, On her brow gleam'd a cross from the skies ; As saintly and calm she passed on her way. With the roses of Paradise. lU ifee pagk &^$tlt FROM THE GERMAN. A KINGLY castle, saitli an olden story, Through magic curse to ruin dire was broken ; But when some talismanic word was spoken. Once more it rose in aU its pristine glory, Fan- shone the haU and battlements so hoary : There were bright roses, starry jasmines glancing ; Waving of purple robes, and maidens dancing ; And silver harps that rang to songs of glory. Oh ! like that ruin was my heart, long lying In deeper darkness than my words can render. 145 And all witliin was drear, and waste, and dying : Then thou didst speak with voice so true and tender The talismanic word, and, in replying, My heart's enchanted castle rose m splendour. 146 ®0 A BLESSING Oil the past ! Tlie strange dark night, the cold and stormy sea, The weary watch amid the tempest blast, The pale despair when all seemed overcast ; — 'Twas well, for thee ! Those dearest prize the light, Who mourned m deepest darkness, cold and drear ; With no sweet Hope-Star m its splendour bright, — The angel voice that singeth through the night. Watchers alone may hear. 147 The wild sad iiiglit is o'er. Calm, to the tempest-tossed, is doubly blest ; Oh ! speak uo longer of the distant shore, E'en now 'tis reached Then rest, Thou art no more alone — Look up ! The skies are shining bright above ; Heaven's light o'er all thy path is grandly strown, A kingly robe is close around thee thrown. The infinite of Love. 148 %\im m^ |, PROM THE GERMAIN". I AM the rose that blushing grew To fragrant, fair completeness ; But thou. Beloved, art the dew To which it owes its sweetness I am the dusky jewel stone, From earth's dark caverns taken; Thou art the suiiHght o'er me thrown, My beauty to awaken. 149 I am the crystal goblet bright, In royal banquet gleaming ; Thou art the wine in purple light, Within that goblet streammg. I am the dark and storm-fraught cloud But thou, so kind and tender, — Thou art the Iris o'er me bowed. In. many-coloured splendour. I am the Memnon dumb and dead, Ere night's tliick shroud is breakmg ; Thou comest like the mornino^ red. "■o The music in me waking. I am the pilgrim wandering long Throughout this vale of weeping ; Thou art the angel bright and strong A guard above iiue keeping. 150 Song. PEOM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLEK, By the brooklet sat a lover, Elowers lie wreathed in fancy's dream. And he saw them wave snatched over. Carried down the daucmg stream. " Thus fleet by my days despahing. Like the brooklet restless aye ; Thus my youth to age is wearing. As the garlands fade away. " Ask not thou from whence my sorrow^ Why my youth seems lost and vain : 151 Bright new joys the earth may borrow When the spring-time comes again. Oh ! these thousand thousand voices, Nature blooming bright and free, All in which thy soul rejoices, Gives a world of woe to me. ■ Sprmg can never teach me gladness, Though her glories round me are ; One alone can soothe my sadness, She is near and yet afar ! Wild I stretch my arms with lodging, To embrace the form I love ; Dreams alone are round me throngmg, And the sunlight fades above. Still I keep this plaint renewmg. Leave, oh, leave thy halls of pride, Flowers about thy pathway strewing, Let me wander by thy side. 152 Hark ! tlie wood with song is ringing, And tlie brooklet ripples free ; Love, his gifts for all is bringing, Wliv not then for thee and me ? '* i 153 ®|e f traitgcr 6I]tlu's folg Clpstmns. FROM THE GEEMAX OF FRIEDKICH HtJCKEET. Theee wandered through the street, T\Tien Christmas lamps were hghted, A child with eager feet, A stranger child benighted. The Christmas lamps to greet. Through ev'ry window fair The Hght came richly streamiag. And fill'd the dreamy air. From Chi-istmas trees bright gleaming- The boy stood weepuig there. 154 '"' Each happy cliild, I see, To-iiight his feast is keepmg, With lighted Christmas tree" — The stranger said, still weepmg, " But none there shmes for me. " At home I used to stand And see my tree-lamp hglited, With sisters hand in hand ; But here I roam benighted Amid tills stranger land. " In all the homes I see, WiU none to my cry listen ? Is there no place for me Where merry faces ghsten. How small soe'er it be ? " Is there no place for me Where these glad guests are thronging ? i O' 155 At others' Christmas tree To gaze is all my louging, And others' gifts to see." He knocked with pleading word. Where social bands were meeting At many a door. None stkred, To give the stranger greeting — His voice they never heard. And happy fathers smiled On chndi'en round them clingmg. And mothers fair and mild Their gifts for ah were brmging ; None saw the stranger child. "Dear Christ-cMld ! hear my cry. Oh, may I soon be taken To hve beyond the sky ! For here I weep forsaken ; No friend on earth have I." 156 frost chilled his hands and feet, The uio-ht was dark and drearv ; Xo friend the child could meet ; He gazed all cold and weary Adown the narrow street. There came, with aspect bright And glory o'er him streaming. Another child that night. With garments white and gleaming, And in his hand a Hght. "The holy Christ am I, On earth a child once weeping ; Though others from thee fly, Thou'rt safe within my keepmg- I ever heed thy cry. " In ev'ry time of need. O'er all my care reveahng. My hungry flock I feed ; 157 By founts and streams of healing, Both poor and rich I lead. " stranger child ! for thee Shall rise aloft, bright streaming, A lamp-Ht Clu-istmas tree ; Thau those around thee gleaming It shall far brighter be." And while these words were said, So lovmg and so tender, There lightened overhead A tree in starry splendour, With many boughs outspread. So near it seemed to be. Yet far — with hghts all blazing, A wondrous sight to see ! How felt the child when gazing On this his Christmas tree ? 158 As ill a dream lie lay ; Then came kind angels tender. And ere tlie break of day, To Heaven's eternal splendour They bore him far away. And now that child of care. His Christmas-tide is keeping At home with Christ-cliild fair. And all these years of weepuig, He little recks of there ! 159 % The noon of uight — pale gleams of light Across my window bars ; And wav'riug shades — no lustre bright. Sweet shilling of the stars ! Dim ghost-Uke forms flit romid my bed. Black clouds above me roll ; Strange awful sounds of threatening dread Drive slmnber from my soul. As Thou hast promised in Thy Word, To saints in ages past, Thy " everlastmg arms," dear Loud, Oil ! clasp around me fast. 160 The night is di'eary, dark, and long, I cannot see aright ; I am but weak, and Thou art strong, Be with me through the night. For if I know that Thou art near, And if I hold Thy hand. The shadowy hosts I shall not fear. That round about me stand. And if like seraph-music clear, Above this tumult deep, Thy " stUl small voice," Lokd, I hear, I shall not fear to sleep. I shall not heed the angry skies. Nor dread the storm-toss'd sea , In quiet I shall close my eyes. For I shall rest in Thee. IGl Sweet rest for all who watch and weep ! Eor weary souls a balm ; " Thou givest Thy beloved sleep," Give me that priceless calm ! M 162 pg §mm. Last night iii my dream, — shall I tell you the story ? — You and I, with another, — we tliree, — All walked by the shore, 'mid the terror and glory That broods o'er the infinite sea. All vaui seem my efforts in language to render The thund'rous music, rolling its way O'er the dark traitor-waves in their sunlight and splendour, Shaking back from their crests the feath'ry spray. The false traitor-waves danced sparkling before me, And 'twas I, only I, of the three, Plunged forward and fell, while the darkness closed o'er me, Down — down in the infinite sea ! 1G3 All ! falling, still falling ! sinking for ever ! Grief and despair, terror and pain ! At last I sprang np by a mighty endeavour, FuU in the joy of the sunlight again. And then I awoke to the day and its duty ; Still in my thoughts the dream comes to me ; Those fair seeming waves in their magical beauty, xind the awful dark depths of that sea. 164 % piiragy lams. In the gloom of the midnight I awoke and I said, " Oh, I wonder how fares it With the silent — the dead ! *' thou grave, dark and awful How I tremble to think That I stand perchance nearly On your terrible brmk ! '* Then there whispered an angel, " thou sorrowful cliild ! Although the 'night of the souP Be cold, stormy, and wild ; 165 " Yet fair — fair is the momiiig, Glad and peaceful and bright ; And 'tis welcome the dearer, From the storm of the night* And oh, then, the bright city That hes'far, far away, Beyond the grave cold and dark. And the portals of day ; The fair gates are all pearly. And the streets are of gold : In the book of glad tidmgs The strange story is told. Brighter, fairer than Eden, Are those gardens above. Where the Kmg in His beauty We all worship and love. 166 " The glad song of the angels — My dear brothers ! Ah me ! 'Tis as sweet and as perfect As e'er music can be. " As one eve I was smgmg A lay plaintive and sweet, A young mortal who heard it Eell entranced at my feet. " Fear thou not the dark river, Nor shrink back from its shore. But remember thy Saviour Hath crossed over before. " And most gentle and tender. He awaits thee above. In the mansions of splendour Rendered bright by His love ! " 1G7 %k ®to0 loliotoers. Theee was a Kiiight, a wofal wight, Him followed a spectre grim ; And both by day, and eke by night, This fiend ever followed him. In Holy Land, with pilgrim band. The Knight had nobly fonght, Yet aU m vam ! — he kept the stain Of crimes that he had wi'onght. At the lordly feast he heard the jest. And laughed that he might begnile His thought from the fiend the crowd had screened From his anxious gaze awhile. 168 Yet liis weary glance, 'mid song and dance. Oft saw tlie " unbidden guest ;" His heart would fail, and his clieeks grow pale. And die on his lips the jest. And when he passed from the feast at last. And rode through the ev'nuig shade, A cold, cold hand from the sphit land. Was upon his shoulder laid. At set of sun, when day was done. And his thoughts the future scanned. Ever he heard a mockinj? word. Ever saw a warning hand. He had travelled far 'neath sun and star. And over the land and sea ; This Knight had fame and an ancient name. And a host of friends had he. 1G9 With a castled hall 'mid moat and wall, And a wide and rich domain ; Yet a happier sight than this poor Knight, Was the footboy in his train. ^ ^ « 4|r ^ There is a girl, her name is Peai'l, Sweet Pearl with the golden hair, And by her side, whate'er betide. There standeth an angel fair. When all around seems dark and chill, 'Mid human hopes and fears, Tlu-ough good and Ul she ever still The "angel-whisper" hears. And when her hold grows faint and cold. On the truths all else above. The angel points to a crown of gold. And tells of the Master's love. 170 IViien apt to fall, sweet Pearl telletli all Unto Him who hearetli prayer ; A loving voice bids her soul rejoice, And she knows the ans:el there. With heart sincere doth the maiden pray Ere she Heth down to sleep ; By night and by day, God grant she may The angel beside her keep. StOl unto the Knight, that woful wight, To the maid with the golden hak, A well-known name, and ever the same, Hath the fiend and angel fair. 171 % Christmas &ml Did you hear a little bird, a little bird a-singitig. Did you hear a little bird in the very early morn ? Did you hear the merry beUs, the merry bells a-ringmg, To tell us all the good glad news that Jesus Cheist is born ? It is a strange and wondrous tale, a marvellous old story. It happened m the distant time, the far-off " long ago ;" To us there came the Kmg of kings, the Lord of life and glory, A helpless babe — a Uttle child— a weary man of woe. 172 A little child ! A maiden fair her watch beside him keeping. And angels wondered as they gazed, and shook their starry wmgs ; They saw their Lord before them — He, an infant calmly sleepmg — O love of God ! surpassing all mysterious hidden things ! Then praise we now our Father, God, with all our life's endeavour ; His loving Christ hath borne the cross, that we may wear the crown ; From death to life our souls may rise to dwell with Him for ever. For this He left His throne, and "laid His regal honours down." Listen to the Httle bh'd, the little bu'd a-smgmg. The mystic bh'd that smgs at eve, and very early morn ; 17 Q She siiigeth in our heart of hearts — Christmas bells are ringing ! And so we know the good 'glad news that Jesus Christ is born ! Christmas Bay, 1860. 174 %m U Mt It is tlie pleasant summer prime, The green is on the tree ; Sweet are the blossoms of the lime. All tilings seem glad and free. Yet still I hear the solemn chime Of a dark and awful sea ; — I would it were the autumn time When the Reaper comes for me. There riseth to the soft blue sky, Full many a joyous tune ; — Ah, it would grieve my heart to die In the merry month of Jane ! 175 When sea waves sound like dreary knell, And stormy currents flow ; T\Tieu keener, wilder winds foretell The coming of the snow ; — Then waft to me the sweet farewell, And lay me " straight and low ;" And softly toll the passing bell, That all around may know ; And heavenward prayers may upward swell, Like incense from below, — By two worlds' love encircled well, 'Tis thus that I would go. So, when " the swallow homeward flies," He'U come again in spring ; So, when the ckooping flow'ret hes A pale and faded tlmig. 176 Another season to your eyes A brighter bloom will bring ; And I, a happy souJ, shall rise In the Resurrection Spring 177 iglit anb Stoniinci. Turn thy face unto the wall, The weary day is done ; Be thy doings great or small, Night di-aweth darkly on ; Thou no more hast part ui all The work beneath the sun — Turn thy face unto the wall, For day is done ! Fold thy hands to peaceful rest. And happy di-eams of home ; Lay them crosswise on thy breast,- 178 No more thy feet shall roam. The shadows deepen iii the west. And night is come. Weep not thou with sorrow bowed. Low in the dust to Ks ; The sun tor aye behind the cloud With gladness fills che sky ; E'en now he lifts iiis bamier proud, Eor morn is nigh ! 170 ^ Sours Soitg. I GO far away to the King of the Aons,^° His love is so tender and true ; I bear to my bridegroom a garland of lilies, And white roses dropping with dew ; My robe will be hke to the one Avorn by Mary, With golden stars broidered on blue. I go far away to the King of the Aons, Too long have I wandered below ; The earth-damps are gath'ring so thick and so chilly, My memory is treach'rous and slow ; I scarce can remember the far away country, Yet once I was blessed, I know. 180 Eor often the tones of a voice heard in Edeu (None sweeter there ever can be !) Come rippling in dreams, when the pale moon is dyuig. And the mist stealeth up from the sea. I know 'tis the voice of the King of the Aons, Pleading and yearnuig — calHng for me ! I long to be free from the bounds of my prison, My vigils are early and late ; But to-night I have heard an angel's soft whisper. That bids me have patience and wait Until dear my Lord Christ, the King of the Aons, Shall open for me the Paradise gate. EDITOR'S NOTES. [Note 1, page 1.] " To a Departed Sjnrit." The authoress had hardly completed her fifteenth year when this ode was written. [Note 2, page 18.] " Eoiiffet de Lisle and the 'Marseillaise Hymn.'" The history of this national hpnn is very interesting. It is not a solitary instance of the mighty results which have flowed from the combined influence of music and poetry, upon a people labouring under great national excitement. Eouget de Lisle was a yoimg ofticer, ardent for the revolution during its earlier stages in 1792 ; he was a poet and a musician as well, and his genius and sympathies made him a most intimate daily guest of the Baron de Dietrich, mayor of Strasburg, where he was then quar- tered. The national troubles had impoverished the prc\-iously opulent baron, and one day foi;nd their repast reduced to some iilices of smoked ham with bread. Commenting on his own and his country's fortunes, the host resolves to produce his last bottle of Rhenish wine, in honour of Land and Liberty, and that under 182 editor's notes. its inspiration, De Lisle, " puise dans ses dernieres gouttes, tin de ces hynmes qui portent dans Fame du peuple I'ivresse d'oii il a jailli." Alone in his chamber after separating, words and music arose, mingled in the poet's brain without order of precedence. He sang, wrote nothing, but fell asleep on his instrument. Next morning, as from a dream, the composition was recalled, noted and written, and immediately rehearsed by the assembled friends ; the effect was excessive upon themselves. The chant spread from place to place, was adopted at Marseilles, and caught up by the army of the province on its march to Paris, and thus reached the capital under that name. [Note 3, page 23.] " Corinna at the Capitol." The real person intended by Madame de Stael in her " Corinne," and from thence, in the present poem, is Maria M. Fernandez Gorilla, who was born at Pistoja, in 1740. She early exhibited not only the Italian faculty of improvisation in an extraordinary degree, but corresponding acquirements in natural and moral philosophy, history, and general literature. When highly re- no'svned, in 1765, Maria Theresa made her poet-laureate, and she remained in Vienna exalting the taste for Italian literature until 1771, when she settled at Rome, which she charmed with her powers during several years. The Academy of the Arcadi enrolled her amongst their number, and on the accession of Pius VI. such was her fame, that she was solemnly crowned at the Capitol amidst universal acclamation. An account of all the proceedings was published at Parma in 1779 along with the discourses, impro- visations, sonnets, etc., Avhich she produced at the time. She died at Florence in 1800. editor's notes. 183 [Note 4, page 29.] " The Last Lesson." The character of Paracelsus is a paradox. He has been variously regarded as an " impudent charlatan," and as a man of most elevated genius and acquirements. Neither of these views is altogether T\T:ong. Without doubt he was insufferably arrogant, boastful, noisy, and illiterate ; fanatical, moreover, and addicted to the alchemical jugglery of the age, by which he imposed on the credulous multitude ; coarse also and intemperate in his habits. But as certainly, he had a keen and powerful intellect, indomi- table energy, activity, and thirst for knowledge, which he sought from every source, and pursued through many countries, until it led him far in advance of all previous labourers in the natural sciences. He was naturally, therefore, scornful of the torpidity and slavish deference to dogmata which he encountered among the crude systems of the period, and which he shook to their very foundations. His chief studies were chemistrj' and medicine ; and though he cannot be said to have established these upon a scientific basis, yet he broke up the ground, directed better modes and channels of investigation, discovered important facts in the one, and modes of treatment in the other science, and altogether quickened the dormant energies of the human mind into such activity', that it has never since rested. He must have been a terrible thorn in the sides of the respectable orthodoxy of the day. In 1526 he was appointed professor of medicine and surgery in the University of Bale, but quarrelled, and threw up his appoint- ment within two years. He then wandered over Europe, lec- turing, practising, accumulating knowledge, and publishing several works, until 1541, when he died, in his forty-eighth year, in a hospital at Saltzburg, soothed, as it is said, by the attentions 184 editor's notes. of an old friend, who had known him in early life, and whom he addresses in the poem. [Note 5, page 62.] " The Legend of St. Veronica." It appears, from Butler's " Lives of the Fathers," &c., and other writers, that the St. Veronica canonised in the Roman calendar was of Milan, and not born until 1497. But the name has been assigned by several churches and some writers to the devout woman of whom this legend is reported. A linen cloth impressed with the features of a man, and said to be the identical hand- kerchief in question, is preserved with great veneration in the church of St. Peter at Rome. [Note 6, page 84.] " The Dead EajihaeL" Raphael died at Rome when only thirty-seven years of age, in the zenith of his power and fame. He had just finished for the Cardinal Giulio de Medici his immortal work, " The Transfigu- ration." " The countenance of Christ," says Lanzi, " in which he has developed all his combined ideas of majesty and beauty, may be considered the masterpiece of Raphael, and seems to us the most sublime height to which the genius of the artist, or even the art itself, was capable of aspiring." His body laid in state for several days in the chamber where he used to paint, surrounded by his works ; and we can perhaps hardly at once realise the public feeling at Rome on the event. His genius, labours, and devotion to the Church had made him intimate with the Medici, and Leo X. intended to bestow on him a cardinal's hat; his death prevented the Sacred College doing themselves such an editor's notes. 185 honour. But it was not the great and wealthy only who would appreciate the national loss. The churches and other great buildings were adorned with the choicest works of art, and thus the multitude were joint possessors of these treasures. And they were Italians, and had watched with enthusiasm the noble emulation between Buonarroti and Sanzio, in which had culmi- nated the glory of the Roman school. What, therefore, must have been the state of public feeling, when the latter was cut off in the flower of his days ! and what would be their emotions on beholding his dead form thus surrounded by his undying works ! [Note 7, page 87.] " The Last Night of the Gironclinsr This banquet (funereal or triumphal as the verdict might issue) had been promised the Girondins beforehand, by their escaped comrade the deputy Bailleul, and he kept his word through the intermediate aid of a friend. The dead body of Yalaze, yet bleeding from the suicidal wound he inflicted on hearing the sentence, was, wath the characteristic ferocity of the period, placed along ^\'ith the still living, in the large hall of the condemned. The proceedings and speeches over the banquet, and their de- meanour during these last hours, were noted by the Abbe Lam- bert, 'and are given at length by Lamartine. (" Histoire des Girondins," torn, vii., p. 43, et suiv.) A mournful sound arises from this last solemn interview, in which these men, dying under such circumstances, compared their views and expectations concerning the great hereafter. Excepting one or two of them, the inner light by which they ascended the scaffold was hardly more clear and broad than that which, four hundred years before Christ, irradiated the cell of a certain heathen philosopher when placed ISO editor's notes. in a similar position, and whose doctrines one of their number quoted for assurance and consolation. [Note 8, page 141.] "Saint Elizaleth of Hungary ." This legend of St. Elizabeth of Hungarv'-, is given in l^er life by Montalembert, Bray's Edition, torn. i. p. 273. [Note 9, page 174.] " WJien the reaper comes for meP Her wish was granted. It Avas when the reaper's task was well- nigh done in th^ fields around, that the sickle was put in, and she was gathered into the garner. And a few hours afterwards, the lowering sky sighed forth in fitful gusts of wind and driving rain, " the coming of the snow." [Note 10, page 179.] '' The Kwcj of the Aonsr The King of the Aons, — ^ons, or Aions, — from aiwv, aiuivog, ages, dispensations, the world; and again, Uor, being; and I] cdujv, life; this, as personified in the second person of the Trinity, answers to the ascriptions applied to Christ as " Lord of Life." The term also includes the idea of celestial spirits as a hierarchy presiding over ages and the affairs of men, and also emanations of the Divine natiue. The term Eon was much used by the Gnostics, who considered Christ as the first emanation of the Deity, and following him, angelic and human intelligences. J. S. VIRTUE, PRI^TKU, CUT KOAD, LONDuN. October, 1861. 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If the reader be thus prepared lie is ready to commence read- ini,-- ' The Day of f^mall Things.' What is this neat and unpretending volume by the authoress of ' Mary Powell ?' It is a string of pearls. Yes. Yet the simile will not Ije perfect unless the thread onwhicli they are strung be golden. Then we will accept the resemblance. . . . The authoress of ' Mary Powell,' and, we add, ' The Day of Small Things,' feels her own power, and knows how deeply trifles, when judiciously introduced, will tell. ... It is a cornu- copia filled with rich moral fruits of every kind ; and, though small are the hints thrown out here and there, or the advice casually given, still in the aggregate their voice becomes powerful, and we find that we have been reading a powerful lesson while we were scanning the jottings of a diary. . . . The work is worthy of its author, and will be a general favourite." — Atlas. New and Cheaper Edition, post 8vo., price 7s. 6d. 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ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 8 Illustrated Works for the Young {continued). In foolscap 8vo. cloth, 2s. 6d., COLA MONTI; Or, the story of A GENIUS. A Tale for Boys. By the Author of "John Halifax Gentleman," &c. With Four Illustrations by Fhanklin. " No one possessing common sensibility- can read tills book without a thonfrlitfnl brow and a glistening eye." — Chambers's Edinburgh Journal. " An exceedingly well-told tale, wliich will interest boys of all ages. ... As a h'lliday companion, few l^mks wonld be more popular." — English Churchman, " A lively narrative of school-boy ad- ventures." " A very charming and admirably- written volume It is adapted to make boys better." " A simple and pleasing story of school- boy VifQ."— John Bull. In fcap. 8vo., 7s. 6d., elegantly bound and gilt, DOCTOE'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. THE STORY OF A GUILDS LIFE AMIDST THE WOODS AND HILLS. Bv Eliza Meteyard. With numerous Illustrations by Harvey. "This is a very delightful book, espe- cially calculated for the amusement and instruction of our young friends; and is evidently the pmduction of a riglit-think- i\ii! and accomplished mind." — Church of England Review. " An elegant, interesting, and unobjec- tionable jiresent for young ladies. The moral of the book turns on benevolence." — Christian Ti7nes. " Thi> Story of a Child's Life is so full of beauty and meeliness, that we can hardly express our sense of its worth in the words of common praise." — Noncon- formist. " This will be a choice present for the young." — British Quarterly Review. " The whole story is told with a most touching grace, and a golden glow of poetry pervatles it. The fine designs of Harvey, which illustrate the book, add greatly to its attractiveness, and we can- not entertain a doubt of its becoming one of the most popular volumes in the ' Chil- dren's Library.' " — Eliza Cook's Journal. Second Edition, in square 16mo., handsomely bound in doth, price 2s. 6d. with gilt edges, EOW TO WIN LOVE; Ok, RHODA'S LESSON. A Story Book for the Young. By the Author of " Life for a Life," &c. With Illustrations on Steel. "A very captivating story." — Morning Post. " Just what a story for children ought to be." — Douglas Jerrold's Newspaper. "Truthfulness, descriptive talent, and pure morality iu every line." — Literary Gazette. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. a2 a Illustrated Works por the Young {contiiiued). 16mo. cloth, price 2s., OPEN AND SEE; Or, first reading LESSONS. By the Author of "Aids to Development," &c. &c. With Twenty-four Eugravings ou "Wood. Fcap. 8vo., price 3s. 6d. cloth gilt, EECOLLECTIONS OF MES. ANDERSON'S SCHOOL. A Book for Girls. By Jane Winnakd Hooper. Illustrated by J'jranklin. " A pretty unpretentious volume, neatly embellished, and gay in irs livery of green and gold. Outside and in 'tis jireci-ely the beau ideal of a present or a prize-book for a young lady. More fresh and more delightful reading than this book it lias rarely been our fortune to meet." — Morn- ing Advertiser. " An amusing series of descriptions likely to interest the young folks for whom they are intended." — Express. 18mo. cloth, price 2s., ROBINSON CRUSOE. With Illustrations. A New and Revised Edition, •with Eighty-eight cuts, 18mo. cloth lettered, price 2s., RURAL SCENES; Or, a peep into the country. In 18mo. cloth, price 2s., SANDFORD AND MERTON. With Cuts. New Edition, cloth. Is.; gilt edges. Is. 6d., WATTS'S (Dr.) DIVINE AND MORAL SONGS FOR CHILDREN. With Anecdotes and Reflections, by the Rev. Ingram Cobbin, M.A. With Erontispiece and Eifty-seven Woodcuts. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 10 ILLUSTEATED WORKS. */V^*y V \ />/X/\j'\/\/Vy>^\yX^V\^\/V/V/v In small 4to., price 21s., cloth and gold, THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF SOUTH WALES, THE WYE, AND THE COAST. B7 Mr. and Mrs. S. 0. Hall. With Drawings on Wood by J. D. Harding, F. W. Hulme, W. S. Colemaa, D. H. M'Ewen, Birket Foster, and other artists. Cheaper Edition, in One Yolnrae, price 1 2?. bonnd in cloth ; in morocco, 2Ts., PILGRIMAGES TO ENGLISH SHRINES. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. With Notes and Illnstrations by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. CONTENTS. Birth-place of John Bunyan. Burial-place ot John Hampden. Resideice of Hannah Mi^'e. Tomb of Sir Thomas (jlresham. Tomb of Thomas Gray. Birth-place of Chatterton. Birth-place of Richard Wilson. House of Andrew Marvel. Tomb of John St')w. Heart of Sir Nicholas Cri?pe. Piinting Office ol Caxton. Shaftesbury House. Dwelling of James Barry. Residence of Dr. Isaac Watts. Prison of Lady Mary Grey. Studio (if Thomas Gainsborough. Tomb of John Kyrle. " Descriptions of such Shrines come home with deep inttre^^t to all hearts— all English hearts — particularly when they are done with the earnestness which dis- tinguishes Mrs. Hall's writings. That lady's earnestness and enthusiasm are of the right sort— felt for freedom of thought and action, for taste, and for genius wing- ing its fiiglit in a noble direction. They are displayed, oftentimes most naturally, throughpirit, these forms may become instinct with life, and unload many a full soul that cannot strike out words for it.self. Tiie Annotations are necessarily few. This woik is designed to introduce or facilitate the practice of Family Worship. By constructing llie daily prayer on the passage of Scripture selected for reading, greater variety, interest, and jiractical use are associated with the exercise. What God declares is thus solemnly accepted in prayer; what He promises is embraceci liy adoring hope ; atid for special blessings disclosed or promised in his holy word, thanksgiving and praise are a!^cribed to Him from whom cometh down every good and perfect gift, to whom belong the glory and the honour. [Shortly. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 14 Works by the Rev. John Gumming, D.D., F.R.S.E. {continued). SCRIPTURE READINGS; Or, popular AND PRACTICAL EXPOSITIONS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. Vol. XII.— THE EPISTLES OF ST. JAMES, &c., price 6s. in cloth. Into the Comments and Expositions will be introduced illustrative extracts from a variety of valuable sources, giving clear illustrations of disputed pas- &?iges; so that when the series on the New Testament is finished, every family may find in the library a storehouse of useful, interesting, Protestant, and evangelical instruction. ALREADY COMPLETE: Vols. I. to IV.— THE FOUR GOSPELS, price 203. Vol. v.— THE ACTS OF THE APOS PLES, price 7s. Vol VI.— EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS, price 4s. 6d. VoL VIL— THE CORINTHIANS, price 5s. Vol. VIII.— GALATIANS, EPHESIANS, AND PHILIPPIANS, price 6s. Vol. IX.— COLOSSIANS AND THESSALONIANS, price 4s. 6d. Vol. X.— TIMOTHY, &c., price 4s. Vol. XI.— THE HEBREWS, price 5s. THE REVELATIONS, price 7s. 6d. "One of the most valuable of Dr. Cum- I of such a work are self-obvions ; and ming's numerous publications, and likely to become the most popular, and the most lasting in its popularity, for it has en- during qualities which belong to all ages and generations. The text is simply and clearly opened — critical explanations are given only when they are required — so as not to encumber, but to elucidate; and the practical applications are such as to suit all classes of persons." — Church of England Quarterly Review. " The comments are made with great lucidity. The result is the throwing of an additional flood of light on the already dazzling truths of Holy Writ. The uses when we add that the plan is carried out with all the lucidity, faithfulness, piety, honest reasoning, and felicity of thought and expression which mark its prede- cessors, we have only said enough to mark our sense of its value."— C/jMrc/j and State Gazette. " For the purpose for which ' the Read- ings ' are intended, they are in every sense admirably adapted. They combine simplicity with faithiulness, and critical interpretation with most attractive ex- planation: so that a child may uuderstaud them." — Bell's Messenger. READINGS ON THE PROPHETS. In monthly numbers, price 4d., SABBATH MORNING READINGS ON THE BOOK OF DANIEL. By the Rev. John Cumming, D.D., F.R.S.E. " The Author has not published any exposition of the last prophecy of Daniel, but having studied and lectured on it in the light of existing complicatious and events, he is satisfied that it will prove interesting and instructive." Price 3s. complete, in cloth. LATELY PUBLISHED : THE BOOKS OF SAMUEL, price 5s. THE BOOKS OF KINGS, price 4s. 6d. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, k CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 15 Works by the Eev. John Gumming, D.D., F.R.S.E. {continued). Third and Cheaper Edition, revised, fcap. 8vo. cloth, price 5s., THE DAILY LIFE; Or, precepts AND PRESCRIPTIONS FOR CHRISTIAN LIVING. " Popular, clear, captivating, and ani- mated." — British Banner. " Dr. Cumniirif;- is famous for the num- ber and variety of his illustrations, chiefly drawn from natural and familiar objects. The volume before us strikes us as beinj^ reinaikably felicitous." — ClericalJournal. " It is written in the same terse and vigorous style and earnestness of tiine as those ot its predecessors, ;iiid tlie strong common sense with whicli its teaching is enforced, will attract while it improves the student."— C/iw?T/i and State Gazette. Sixth Edition, in fcap. 8vo., price 3s. cloth, gilt edges, OUS, FATHER. A Manual of Family Prayers for General and Special Occasions, with Short Prayers for Spare Minutes, and Passages for Reflection. CHEAP EDITIONS. CHTTECH BEFORE THE FLOOD. Fcap. 8vo., price 3s. 6d. PROPHETIC STUDIES; Or, Lectures on the Book of Daniel. Fcap., price 3s. 6d. TENT AND ALTAR. Fcap., price 3s. 6d. APOCALYPTIC SKETCHES. Original Edition, with Index, &c. Three Vols., price 3s. 6d. each. FORESHADOWS ; Or, Lectures on our Lord's Miracles and Parables. Two Vols., price- 33. 6d. each. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 16 WORKS RECENTLY PUBLISHED. rf\ rv /x 'v^v/v/v^v/v/v/^ '^ *> Fifth Thousand, price 23., THE BACKWOODS PREACHER. An Autobiography of Peter Cartwright. Edited by W. P. Strickland. Reprinted from the last American Edition. " For the rugged earnestness of the man it is impossible not to have a liigh admira- " Full of the richest Americanisms and quaintest anecdotes, it gives the details tion. His life is full of strange incident, of a religious phase of society almost and, setting aside its oddities, must com- I unknown in England." — Dickens's House- mand, and more tlian command, interest." i hold Words. — Athenceum. Nineteenth Edition, 800 pp., 8vo. cl., strongly bound, 21s. ; or in calf, 263., TABLES OF SIMPLE INTEREST FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR, At 5, 4f, 4, 3i, 3, and 2| per cent, per annum, from £1 to £100, &c. By James Laurie. "In the great requisites of simplicity of arrangement and comprehensiveness, we have none better adaiited for general use." — M'Culloch's Commercial Dictionary. " Mr. Laurie was well known as one of the most correct and industrious autho- rities on commercial calculations, and tlie practical value of his various tables have long been recognised." — Times. Third Edition, Svo. cloth, 7s., HIGH RATE TABLES, At 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 9| per cent, per annum, from 1 day to 100 days. J3y James Laurie. New Edition, fcap. cloth, 3s. ; gilt edges, 3s. 6d., , MANUAL OF HERALDRY, Being a concise Description of the several Terms used, and containing a Dictionary of every Designation m the Science. Illustrated by 400 Engravings on Wood. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 17 Works Recently Pueltshed {continued). Price 4s. post 8vo. cloth, gilt edges, SCEIPTURE SITES A^D SCENES, FROM ACTUAL SURVEY, IN EGYPT, ARABIA, AND PALESTINE. Illustrated by Seventeen Steel Engravings, Three Maps, and Thirty- Seven Woodcuts. By W. H. Bartlett. New Editions. EIPPON'S (Dr.) SELECTIOI^ OF HYMNS FROM THE BEST AUTHORS, Including a great number of Originals, intended as an Appendix to Dr. Watts's Nonpareil 32mo. s. d. Roan 16 , gilt edges ..20 Morocco ....50 Psalms and Hymns. Long Primer 24mo. s. d. Ri an 2 6 , gilt edges ..30 Morocco ....60 Large Type. s . d. Sheep 5 Tfoan, gilt edges ..60 Morocco .... 9 BOUND "WITH WATTS S HYMNS, 1 vol. 32mo., roan, Ss. ; gilt edges, 3s. 6d. ; morocco, 63. 6d. BIBLE CHANTS, ADAPTED FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP. New Edition, fcap. 8vo. cloth gilt. Is., THE CHANT-BOOK: A SELECTION OF THE PSALMS AND OTHER PORTIONS OF HOLT SCRIPTURE, ARRANGED AND MARKED FOR CHANTING. By William Shelmerdtne, Conductor of the Sacred Harmonic Society, and Organist of the Mechanics' Hall, &c., &c., Nottingham. With a Preface by the Rev. J. A. Baynes. In crown 8vo., price 2s. 6d., ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY CHANTS, ANCIENT AND MODERN. Arranged for four Voices, with an Accompaniment for the Organ or Pianoforte. To accompany the above. AP THUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 18 WoKKs Recently Published {continued). In fcap. 8vo., price 5s., cloth gilt, THE PHINCE OF THE HOUSE OF DAVID; Oa, THREE YEARS IN THE HOLY CITY. Edited by the Rev. Professor J. H. Ingraham, Rector of St. John's Church, Mobile. Illustrated with Eugraviugs. ami it conveys much valuable informa- tinn as to the custfuus and manners of the inhabitants of the Holy Land."' — Wesleyan Times. " The whole is written in a semi-poeti- cal style, which will prove attractive to religious readers." — Leader. " The volume contains much informa- tion as to Jewisli manners and customs." — Baptist Magazine. " Professor Infiraham has worked out his plan with diligence and reverence." — Lilzrary Gazette, " Our perusal of it has been only to im press us with the ability of the author in the use of the materials, and in the struc- ture of a pleasing and most affecting tale." — Clerical Journal. " This is the best production of its class that has come to our hands for a lonjr time, and it is but candid and just to say tliat it adds very much to tlie stores of knowledge already existing about the East." — British Standard. " We hardly know what to say about this book; it is written in bcautiiul style, In post 8vo., price 7s. 6d., cloth gilt, FATHER AND DAUGHTER. A Portraiture from the Life. By Predrika Bremer. " Another of those beautiful stories of home-life in Sweden for which Miss Bremer is so justly famed." — Patriot. " A work by Miss Bremer can never fail to delight a great number of readers, it is like a walk through the fields on a frosty day — so free and buoyant is the air — so fresh and sparkling the aspect of nature and human nature in these northern regions." — John Bull. "'Father and Daughter' might have made a name for a less distinguished writer Of course the book will be read by everybody. Many will applaud." — Leader. " The book introduces us to people and things which are new to the novel-reading public, and which possess in tliemselves no ordinary degree of interest." — Atlas. In fcap., with Frontispiece, price 5s., cloth, THE MILL IN THE VALLEY. A Tale of German Rural Life. By the Author of " An English Girl's Account of a Moravian Settlement in the Black Forest." " A pretty tale, from the pen of a young but ready writer A religious story — simple, sketchy, and quietly romantic." — Athenceum. " This pretty volume is grave, thought- ful, and frequently pathetic ; — a poem in prose, abounding in striking incident, rajiid transitions, and pleasing surprise. It is likely to be admired by young per- sons, and extensively read." — Christian Witness. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 19 EDUCATIONAL WORKS. Improved Edition, l8mo., cloth lettered, price Is. 6d., ACKWORTH VOCABULARY ; Or, English Spelling-Book ; with the meaning attached to each Word. Compiled for the vise of Ackworth School. New Edition, 18mo., cloth lettered, price 2s., BAREAULD'S LEgOIfS POUR DSS EMFANS, Depuis I'age de Deux Ans jusqu a Cinq. Avec une Interpretation Anglaise. 18mo., sewed, price Is., BARBAULD'S HYMNS EN PROSE. Traduits de I'Anglais. Par M. Clemence, 12mo. cloth, price 2s., BELLINGER'S 05JE HUNDRED CHOICE FABLES, Imitated from La Fontaine, Intended for Persons about to learn the French language. With a Dictionary. New Edition, revised and corrected by C. J. Delille, Professor at Christ's Hospital. Crown 8vo., cloth, price 4s., MANUAL OF THE ANALOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF THE HUMAN MIND. By the Rev. J. Carlile, D.D. New Edition, enlarged. Seventh Edition, 12mo. cloth, price Is. 6d., CHRISTIE'S CONSTRUCTIVE ETYMOLOGICAL SPELLING-BOOK. Exhibiting the Etymology and Meanings of 8,000 Words, with Lessons on Etymology, and Notes. Crown 8vo., cloth, with Frontispiece, price 5s., THE EARTH AND ITS INHABITANTS. By Margaret E. Darton. "We have rarely met with a vohitne containing- so much valuable information for educational iiurposes as is brought togethe • in this volume. It is prepared, too, in a manner which will immediately attract the interest of the youiifr, in wlios-e minds it will indrlibly fix the numerous tacts, Willi which every page abounds. — Bell s Messenger. " This is a valuable volume, containing a very clear, Cdrrect acount of the lead- ing facts connected with the surface of the earth, and its ii'habitants As far as it goes, it is c"U)iirehensive, well wiitten, and interesting, worthy of the daughter of Maria Hack, whose books will always b- dt ar to the young and the old." — Gentleman's Magazine. ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 20 Educational Works {co}Ui?ii(ed). Improved Edition, 12ino. cloth, price 2s., GILES'S ENGLISH PARSING; Comprising the Eules of Syntax, exemplified by appropriate Lessons under each Rule. New Edition, 18mo., cloth, price Is. 6d., HOPKINS' EXERCISES IN ORTHOGRAPHY, On an Improved Plan. New Edition, price Is. 6d., in cloth, PICTORIAL SPELLING BOOK; Or, Lessons on Facts and Objects, With 130 Graphic Illustrations. 16mo. cloth, price 2s. 6d., CHILD'S FIRST STEP TO ENGLISH HISTORY. By Ann Rodwell. With many Cuts. New Edition, revised bv Julia Corner. New Edition, 1 2mo. cloth, price Is. 6d., DERIVATIVE SPELLING BOOK, In which the origin of each word is given from the Greek, Latin, Saxon, German, Teutonic, Dutch, French, Spauish, and other Languages, with the Parts of Speech, and the Pronunciation accented. By J. Row- BOTHAM, F.R.S.A. New and Enlarged Edition, fcap. 8vo., price 5s. cloth, red edges, STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY, With short Biographical Sketches, and Notes Explanatory and Critical, in- tended as a Text-book for the higher Classes in Schools, and as an Introduction to the Study of Euglish Literature. By Joseph Payne. " The plan and the execution are equally g- u" v/ v* \^v*\/>y v/ vy"vy vy x/v." s^V/ s. THE BOOK OF THE THAMES, J^r0ni; its JUse t0 its |h11 BY MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL. mm NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. THE AUTHORS TO THE PUBLIC. We have the honour to submit to the public a " Book of the Thames, from its Rise to its Fall," hopeful that our readers may share with us the enjoyment we have so long and so often derived from the " King of Island Rivers." ' We have traced the bountiful river from the bubbling well out of which it issues, in the meadnw by Trewsbury Mead — its lonely birthplace — through its wiiole course, gathering tributaries, and passing with them through tranquil villages, populous towns, and crowded cities; ever fertilizing, ever beautifying, ever enrich- ! ing, until it reaches the most populous city j of tiie modern or the ancient world, form- ing thence the great highway by which a hundred nations traverse the globe. '■ Aided by several accomplished artists, we have largely illustrated this volume, not only by engravings of its picturesque scenery, but by iutroducing the various objects of interest that are found upou its banks. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " It is a book to endear to us our native England, and, produced with all the ele- gance of the printer's and the binder's art, will richly adorn the drawing-room table.'" — Daily News. " It is by far the pleasantest book, cer- tainly the most complete in design and execution, that has been published about the Thames for many years, and we can easily understand that in writing it the authors jtertormed 'a labour of love.'" — Morning Post. " This is one of the best in appearance of the ornamental works of the season .... the binding and the typography are excellent, and the style lively, superiicial, and showy.'"— John Bull. " A faithful as well as an guide to whatever of interest occurs along the entire course of the river. In short, it is a pleasant, well-written, and very handsome ln'ok on the pleasantest river aa author could have to write about." — Literary Gazette. agreeable IN THREE BINDINGS : Cloth 18s. Superbly gilt 21s. Morocco 26s, ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. MENZIES, EDINBURGH.] [M'GLASHAN, DUBLIN. 24