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TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 
 
TABLEAU FKOM GEOLOGY. 
 
 SONNET STANZA SKETCHES 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 MATTHEW BRYDIE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY 
 
 ROBERT HARDWICKE, 192, PICCADILLY. 
 1863. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
-fill 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 The reader will be tempted, perhaps, to smile 
 when he learns that this volume has been quite 
 a quarter of a century in collecting. Yet so it 
 is. The Author does not say, however, that he 
 has not written more, he only hopes that what 
 he has retained may not still prove to the eye 
 of the critic — no light matter in verse — an error 
 in quantity. 
 
 943 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY page 1 
 
 A METAMORPHOSIS 46 
 
 THE BEE 47 
 
 THE RED-BREAST 48 
 
 THE EAGLE 49 
 
 INFANCY 50 
 
 CHILDHOOD 51 
 
 BOYHOOD 52 
 
 THE RIFLE VOLUNTEER 53 
 
 LOVE 54 
 
 1AMZM1 59 
 
 A CANDIDATE FOR B.A 64 
 
 THE FLOWER GIRL 72 
 
 A LEGEND 81 
 
 A BAD SUBJECT 89 
 
/ 
 
 8 CONTENTS. 
 
 fow-chow-wow page 96 
 
 FRAGMENTS, NO. 1 116 
 
 FRAGMENTS, NO. II 123 
 
 SOLILOQUY OF NAPOLEON 131 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA 136 
 
POEMS. 
 
 TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY.* 
 
 [I must observe that this poem was written in 1848, about 
 fifteen years ago ; also that I profess myself a follower and 
 profound admirer of Dr. McCausland's demonstration, on 
 geological grounds, that Moses' account of the seven days 
 of Creation is a divinely inspired narrative. It is shown, 
 indeed, in the above-named author's hands, to resolve itself 
 into nothing less than a remarkable prophecy of the scientific 
 discoveries of a future age.] 
 
 And onwards still it rolled — a mighty mass, 
 
 Ilalf-molten — at its centre dark and dense, 
 
 And vastly atmosphered with steam and mists 
 
 Impenetrable, which the vigorous beam 
 
 * The asterisks mark the lapse of iB in«l« •finite period of time 
 {>nc< ding that at which the description is supposed to 
 
 commence. 
 
A POEMS. 
 
 Of the great central lamp only half pierced 
 
 With light, as through the planetary sphere 
 
 It threw the splendour of imperial day. 
 
 Call it the earth, altho' as yet the name 
 
 Is unimagined there — nor hath the dusky mass 
 
 Aught like this earth of ours — no bounding line 
 
 Divideth earth from ocean, for there is 
 
 No ocean yet — but steam, and vapours mixed 
 
 Of various gas, stifling, sulphureous, 
 
 Held rarefied and floating all around 
 
 The denser centre by a burning heat 
 
 Glowing amid its grosser elements. 
 
 It hath an orb -like form, and nothing more, 
 
 No beauty to the eye — but only awe 
 
 And solemn fear steal through the heart at thought 
 
 Of vision so tremendous — at a power 
 
 In work so vast, silent, inscrutable ; 
 
 But mingling with the fear, prophetic thoughts 
 
 Visit the soul, observant of the scene. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 3 
 
 What ! were it but a preparation this 
 
 For something more majestic ; time hath ne'er 
 
 Been counted on that orb ; yet even now 
 
 Behold that motion, how like light it speeds 
 
 Upon its path — nor varies ; days and years 
 
 Are there already, with a measurement 
 
 Divinely true ; — and seasons* too are there 
 
 Even now — marked, but not felt, for nothing lives, 
 
 Can live, amid a rude, fermenting mass 
 
 Of heaving burning elements. 
 
 But still 
 Echoes the thought mysterious through the soul — 
 'Tis but a preparation ; through the heap 
 Immense of elements commingled thus 
 By that fierce energy that ministers 
 Power to the chemist's arm, when in his ivll 
 Lonely he stirs the fuming crucible, 
 
 • Kt fining to position, not tempera 
 B 2 
 
What terrible and infinite array 
 
 Of forces are now working ; lightnings flash, 
 
 And the dark, molten sea afar beneath 
 
 Trembles, convulsed with elemental strife. 
 
 With speed impetuous change succeeds to change — 
 
 Each change a revolution, which unfolds 
 
 Some new, portentous aspect of the scene. 
 
 Can aught that's beautiful or perfect come 
 
 Out of such wild disorder? or, perchance, 
 
 Is the disorder but an early link 
 
 Of an exact and a stupendous process ? 
 
 These elements were measured, then, perchance ? 
 
 "Vast as they seem, unwieldy, far beyond 
 
 The grasp and measurement of finite mind, — 
 
 Weighed in the scale, or nicely portioned off, 
 
 By volume, in proportion definite? 
 
 And that great lamp, of a most rare effulgence, 
 
 And wondrous strength, by what device of skill, 
 
 Curious, inexplicable, hath it worked — 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 5 
 
 Produced the strange combustion — then withdrawn 
 To its own place, the centre of the whole, 
 There to continue what it had begun, 
 To cherish and mature its mighty work ? 
 
 The essence of man's knowledge is to give 
 Power o'er the elements — he measures, weighs, 
 Combines, and lo! quick as the atoms come 
 Into close contact — all inert before — 
 They rush together with strange violence, 
 And life-like motion, while the master-mind, 
 Watchful and silent at his post, looks on, 
 Marking each rapid change and linked result. 
 He hath an expectation and perchance 
 'Tis disappointed ; — he must add, subtract 
 Some element, or some proportion change ; 
 Perhaps must wait some lengthened courso of time, 
 And period of quiescence, till arrive 
 
b POEMS. 
 
 His wished-for end, and calculated aim. 
 
 And who shall say that all this wondrous scene 
 
 Is not but similar process on a scale 
 
 Stupendous as the power of Him who wields 
 
 The vast macihnery — only that here 
 
 Is possible no error of result, 
 
 No false proportion in the elements 
 
 To mar the great conclusion, — all is done 
 
 By rule of science, like the stars of heaven, 
 
 Remote, sublime, incomprehensible. 
 
 Truth is a spell when 'tis not in our power 
 To comprehend it ; and who forms the spell 
 Is a magician to the ignorant. 
 Doubtless there was, when the great work began, 
 A present cloud of witnesses, who saw 
 "With admiration, reverence, and fear 
 The spirit-stirring scene; — shall we, who know 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 
 
 The great results achieved by human power 
 Of reason, rightly exercised — shall we 
 Scout the belief of similar power in kind, 
 Tho' in degree sublimely different, 
 And while in each new glory, if the fruit 
 Of art and science, we can recognise 
 A personal agency, intelligent, 
 Which is ourselves, designers of it all, 
 Shall we deny the sequence manifest, 
 That also man himself is but the fruit 
 Of art sublimer and more glorious, 
 The world and all its creatures a design, 
 Wrought by some formula that hath its base 
 In some profounder calculus than man 
 Hath yet, perhaps, the senses to explore. 
 
 And ever it rolled on — on, onwards rolled, 
 Exactly measuring the days and years, 
 
8 POEMS. 
 
 In countless myriads. But now a change 
 "Was visible o'er all the moving sphere. — 
 No more a vast, dark, heaving, weltering mass, 
 Plunged in interminable fumes and mists — 
 But solid, firm orb, cleared to the sight, 
 Girt with a blue, translucent atmosphere. 
 The fierce commingling elements are stilled 
 And settled into peace ; the fervid heat 
 Hath passed away, and what was steam before 
 Is now condensed, and spread in liquid plains 
 O'er the wide surface of the hardened earth. 
 Give them the name of Ocean — 'tis a word 
 "Which will be known hereafter in the tongue 
 And annals of a people which hath yet 
 Nor name nor place upon this spacious world. 
 Mark now the different aspect of the whole, — 
 The moving plain of waters how it shines 
 And glitters in the radiance of the sun ; 
 While scant in number, widely set apart, 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 9 
 
 Dark islands stud the watery expanse. 
 There is a stern grandeur in the scene, 
 Mixed with a beauty that is sad and solemn. 
 See ! as the orb rolls on, how light and shade, 
 The night and day glide softly o'er its face, 
 Scene upon scene revealing — now the black, 
 Tall promontory soars into the light, — 
 Now rocky coasts appear, still with the first 
 Warm radiance tinged, while at their base remote 
 Sparkles the foam of angry barking waves. 
 Tract after tract of ocean, isle on isle, 
 Come to receive the cheerful, gay salute 
 Of the bright sun, again anon to plunge 
 Into the shade. Thus glideth night to day, 
 Day into night, in interchange perpetual, 
 And in mid-air suspended may be seen 
 Broad floating vapours gathered from the seas, 
 O'er which the sunlight, in its course, doth throw 
 The hues of rich and varied colouring. 
 
10 POEMS. 
 
 But yet no spot of eye-refreshing green 
 Marks the great earth — no odorous fields of grass 
 "Waving — nor any herb, nor flower, nor tree ; 
 And a dread silence, death-like, holds its reign 
 O'er the vast regions of this rolling world. 
 There is no voice — no sound of speech doth rise 
 From all its surface. It is desolate 
 And sad to look upon, and gives the soul 
 A dreary sense of solitude. It seems 
 As something lacked to move with sympathy 
 The living heart. Yet is there pregnant sign 
 In all the scene, of progress. There are things 
 Which tell of preparation. Still goes on 
 The vast majestic process. Follow we 
 Its great completion down the course of time. 
 
TABLEAU FEOM GEOLOGY. 11 
 
 II. 
 
 Watchman ! what news ? what hour is in the 
 skies ? 
 Methinks I've slept — a long, still night is past ; 
 Yonder still wheels, unwearied in its flight, 
 That sea-girt orb. — But lo ! what change is this 
 Hath passed o'er all its features? — 'tis the same, 
 And yet no more the same: what mystery 
 Of power is this already hath begun 
 Its glorious revel on the earth ? Tell me, 
 Is it a God hath taken up possession, 
 Marking his presence by stupendous art — 
 The art of life — growth — sense — and beauteous forms 
 Organic? 'Tis no longer bare, this earth ; 
 It blooms — is fragrant. Here are plants and flowers, 
 And colours the most gorgeous — stately trees. 
 Epoch of happy omen ! it is good 
 
1 2 POEMS. 
 
 And pleasant to behold and hail the advent 
 
 Of things so beautiful — not made, but born. 
 
 Observe the forms of life, how various, — 
 
 What rich profusion of all delicate shapes 
 
 And curious structures spring from out the earth, 
 
 Fraught with a life peculiar, for they move 
 
 Ne'er from their spot of birth, — yet wonderful, 
 
 "Wrought into unions rare and most compact 
 
 Of organs, each for separate function framed, 
 
 And by the mutual play of office made 
 
 To elaborate some purpose exquisite ; — 
 
 The flower with its rich perfume — or the juice 
 
 Of sovereign virtue — or the luscious fruit. 
 
 And what the wonder raiseth more and more, 
 
 Is, that these fabrics — vegetative lives — 
 
 Yast as their number, yet have, every kind, 
 
 A virtue most peculiar, making it 
 
 Differ from all beside — a form — a taste — 
 
 A smell — a colour each or all its own. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 13 
 
 d 
 
 Whence, mysterious nature! comes the plan 
 
 Of a machinery so intricate, 
 
 And yet so simple — so inscrutable, 
 
 And yet so plain — so few of parts, and yet 
 
 So all complete and boundless of result ? 
 
 But look more nearly ; — stranger things than 
 these 
 Are in the world — not beautiful like flowers, 
 But higher in grade of life ; they are not fixed 
 To the same spot of earth, but seem to move 
 By voluntary effort, though 'tis vile, 
 Eude motion theirs, and scarcely visible. 
 They look the rudiments of higher powers — 
 The rough beginning of some better stat. 
 Called by whatever name, mollusk or shell-fish — 
 And by that germ of motion in their frame 
 Betray the power of sense. Altlio' in truth 
 
14 POEMS. 
 
 'Tis a great progress from the simple plant, 
 
 Barely to feel, have senses, — for it shows 
 
 A more refined result, the effect of some 
 
 More wondrous union of the elements 
 
 Merely material — some mystic force 
 
 Of an organization far beyond 
 
 The ken and scrutiny of human reason. 
 
 Look once again, — seest thou yet nothing more ? 
 Lo ! as I cast my eyes into the depths j 
 Of the vast Ocean, other shapes of life 
 More hideous, terrible, start into sight. 
 The waters teem with living creatures, all 
 Busied with one pursuit — the search of food. 
 'Tis one wide scene of fear and rapid flight, 
 Pursuit and carnage. There a monster lies 
 Grorged with his prey, while far and wide around 
 Blood dyes the water, — it is lizard-shaped, 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 15 
 
 And vast in size — above, below, all cased 
 In coat of mail like iron — its great jaws, 
 Thick-set with pointed teeth, yawn cavern-like, 
 While from its eyes, as large as human head, 
 A lamp-like lustre gleameth terrible. 
 The Icthyosaurus call it. Yonder prowls 
 Another, like in size and shape, — behold! 
 How with long, twisted neck it steers along 
 The waters of that gulf, in search of prey. 
 And there, one monster of the horrid brood 
 Floats through the air, as 'twere on wings suspended, 
 "Watching the fishes in the floods beneath, 
 Tho' sometimes landward seeks it insect prey. 
 The ocean-beds and hollows, where now dwell 
 That brood gigantic, yet will soar above 
 The waters' face, and to the sun outspread 
 Another aspect, and bo called a name 
 Yet glorious in the annals of the world. 
 Here shall another and a higher power 
 
16 POEMS. 
 
 Of life expand, — but 'tis not yet the time 
 
 To speak of such things. Now, the temperature 
 
 Of air and ocean are too raised to fit 
 
 Creatures of higher grade, and there is still 
 
 A gas pestiferous too largely mixed 
 
 With the ambient elements, which while it suits 
 
 This reptile race, would kill a higher kind, — 
 
 For only sultry heat and stifling air 
 
 Like this could generate those huge-grown frames, 
 
 And could sustain them. Also from this cause 
 
 Doth it arise that everywhere there springs 
 
 A vegetation similar in growth — 
 
 Luxuriant beyond even fancy's power 
 
 Truly to paint. On all these scattered isles 
 
 See how the fern grows up a stately tree, 
 
 And reeds of every kind like forests wave, 
 
 And feathery palms spread out their graceful heads — 
 
 Fan-like, refreshing shade in every clime. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 17 
 
 III. 
 
 Now hath the earth reached to a point of time 
 Of a surpassing and strange interest. 
 It glows with warmth, yet tempered and subdued 
 Into a fitness for development 
 Of the life-principle in fearful power: 
 Life into greatness swells, and takes a form 
 Savage, grotesque, uncouth, and terrible. 
 
 But what is this ? 'Twould seem another 
 change 
 Is brooding o'er the world. See! what a work 
 Of devastation hath begun, — how all 
 That fair and fresh-born vegetation falls 
 A \)wy to fuTce convulsion. Hark! a sound, 
 A dismal, moaning sound troubles the air, — 
 o 
 
18 POEMS. 
 
 A fearful shadow of impending doom 
 
 Hangs o'er the earth, — the very light of the 
 
 sun, 
 Cheerful no more, seems with its lurid gleams 
 To glance forth hatred and to threaten death. 
 No more its rays pierce now earth's atmosphere, 
 "Which blackens to the sight with vapours foul; 
 And soon a large and ghastly flame appears, 
 And casts its sullen glare o'er half the world: 
 In close succession thunder peals are heard, 
 Which fill the soul with terror, — the earth 
 
 shakes, — 
 And lo ! through one vast orifice there pours 
 A flood of molten fire, — it runs — it spreads, 
 Covering the land with flame, — and Ocean 
 
 now 
 Meets the dire element. A conflict fierce 
 Ensues, and strong convulsions agitate 
 Earth to its centre and circumference. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 19 
 
 Were then illusive all those cheering hopes 
 Which filled the soul, at the great spectacle 
 Of a new world emerging into day? 
 Was the fond thought that all that stirring scene 
 Was preparation — the consummate art 
 Of infinite knowledge following out the plan 
 Of a divine conception glorious — 
 Was it a dream ? alas ! where now — but hold ! 
 Thou art, indeed, nought but a dreamer, man. 
 See; even already the wild tumult's o'er — 
 The conflagration spent. Ocean explores 
 The deep foundations of a new-made home 
 Once more, and girdles round new continents 
 Of different form, more spacious than before. 
 Yes, 'twas prepared, — and Time, which moves apace, 
 Will clear away this mystery of change. 
 
 c 'J 
 
20 POEMS. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Again what news ? How speeds the course of time ? 
 
 Those ever-burning sentinels of the sky 
 
 "Will tell ; — but no, a better answer there 
 
 The earth holds in her bosom. See ! what change 
 
 To beauty and perfection hath been made. 
 
 O'er the vast continents that now have risen, 
 
 Claiming a fair proportion of the world, 
 
 Another growth of vegetation teems 
 
 Luxuriant ; plants and trees of various kind, 
 
 New to the earth, appear, and spread the means 
 
 Of life and joy to creatures newly born, 
 
 Of form and powers more perfect and mature. 
 
 There spacious plains densely with forests grown, 
 
 Here sunny vales and lofty mountain-peaks. 
 
 And hark ! from out the groves, what sounds are these 
 
 Salute the ear ? sounds full of melody, 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 21 
 
 Inspiring pleasure. See ! amongst the boughs 
 
 Flutter and sport a wondrous race of creatures ; 
 
 'Tis no mere motion theirs, — they are instinct 
 
 "With the whole mastery of motive life. 
 
 They mount, they soar, they float, they skim the air, 
 
 They dance, they flutter with delight ; they 'tis 
 
 That sing, conscious, exulting in that strength 
 
 Matchless of wing, and brilliancy of motion. 
 
 And what a combination delicate 
 
 And most refined of powers, — to them 'twould seem 
 
 Song is a gift exclusive. Look around — 
 
 No vulgar throat that prone to earth is borne, 
 
 Nor thing four-footed, nor that crawls the 
 
 ground, 
 Tuneth like these its voice to melody. 
 
 Various the races now that roam about 
 On tho dry land, and still of shape and size 
 
22 POEMS. 
 
 Yast and peculiar, — also beasts of prey 
 
 Begin to shew themselves. There, on the wing, 
 
 A creature, vampire-like, saileth along, 
 
 Spreading dismay, for it delights in blood. 
 
 And the vast realms of ocean, too, have changed 
 
 All their inhabitants ; — creatures of race 
 
 As vast, but not so fierce, people the seas. 
 
 Now may the whale be seen, with its huge bulk, 
 
 Like floating island, and the great sea-horse, 
 
 And dolphins sporting in the sunlit waves. 
 
 But change goes on apace, — nor earth nor sea 
 
 Hath its foundations firmly fixed and sure 
 
 As yet, and all the state of living things 
 
 Is mixed with peril and uncertainty. 
 
 'Tis a transition period long and sad, 
 
 Marked with disaster, — but at length 'tis closed. 
 
 Once more a revolution, in its form 
 Most direful and complete, sweeps o'er the earth, 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 23 
 
 And leaves it all in ruins. Everything 
 Possessing life hath shared one doom of death ; 
 But still its path mysterious holds that orb, 
 Which through so many strange vicissitudes 
 Hath passed already, and when havoc seemed 
 The most to threaten to its pristine state 
 Of chaos to reduce it, hath it still 
 Issued, encompassed with far richer hopes. 
 
 Mystery of Time ! Time with the boundless space 
 Of this eternal universe combined 
 Into a marriage most inscrutable, 
 What canst thou not bring forth? Within thy 
 
 womb, 
 Dark and unfathomable — nought erewhile, 
 How endless and how wonderful a change 
 Of linked creations may lie possible, 
 And destined yet, when years their virtue add, 
 
24 POEMS. 
 
 To be transformed to great realities, 
 
 And fill high heaven's eternal witnesses 
 
 "With praise and wonder. From that marriage 
 
 first 
 Issued the elements — the eldest birth, 
 In some most dark, impenetrable order, — 
 A brood most riotous, and full of wild, 
 Intense and multiform activities, 
 "Which by a law inherent they exert ; 
 And thus through countless ages do they 
 
 wage 
 Each with the other fierce intestine war, 
 Until events the auspicious hour awake 
 Their feuds to pacify and terminate; 
 And sacred marriage thus another time 
 With rites appropriate is solemnized, — 
 And these, Time's eldest children, closely joined 
 In matrimonial bonds, usher the days 
 Of a more peaceful and a happier epoch. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 25 
 
 Most strange and wonderful of birth, thou orb ! 
 And wonderful and strange at every turn 
 Of thy surpassing course — 'tis only He 
 Who summoned all thy elements together, 
 Counted them out by number, and assigned 
 To each exactest weight and volume — 
 'Tis only He can tell, by deep inspection, 
 "What things must come, — for is not everything 
 Computed in His book, and registered 
 By quantities and times, and all disposed 
 In order perfect, most elaborate ? 
 
 Again behold the world rescued once more 
 From the rude shock of fate, and hasting on 
 To fill the measure of its destined course ; 
 Behold it green and flourish tag anew 
 With richest vegetation, — forests dense 
 Cover the plains — or palm, or lofty pine, 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 Elm, or chesnut, or marsh-loving willow ; 
 
 And herbs and flowers of every hue and form 
 
 Are widely sown, and scent the atmosphere ; 
 
 The sea again is peopled, and the land 
 
 Harbours new forms of life. Creatures appear 
 
 Still of unmeasured growth and fearful shape, — 
 
 Their vast proportions covered o'er with scales 
 
 Hard as the iron. There is one huge beast 
 
 That with a stroke of his unwieldy tail 
 
 Or weighty claw would crush a crocodile, 
 
 Yclept the Megatherium, from its size ; — 
 
 There too the Dinotherium, and there 
 
 The Mastodon, of aspect fierce, with tusks 
 
 Of growth gigantic. And these, too, have lived, 
 
 For now they are not ; violent and strange 
 
 The shock which freed earth from such visitants ; 
 
 But howsoe'er they perished — by decrease 
 
 Of temperature, or atmospheric change — 
 
 They yielded place to others, of a form 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 27 
 
 More like the present. In the times remote, 
 Before the last convulsion which hath changed 
 Earth's general aspect, wandered through the woods 
 Fierce beasts of prey, the lion and the bear, 
 Tiger and leopard, of a larger growth 
 Than now are seen. The while these creatures 
 
 reigned 
 Upon the earth alone, a tyranny 
 Of rude brute strength must, far and wide, have 
 
 spread 
 terror and carnage 'mongst the weaker tribes, 
 And filled the land with solitude and silence. 
 And these too perished from the earth; and now 
 The appointed period at last is come, 
 In course of ages, for another change — 
 The last great revolution which the globo 
 Hath yet experienced. Ocean again 
 Is from her depths unsettled, and invades 
 The continents, — all animated things 
 
28 POEMS. 
 
 Are swept into destruction, and the face 
 
 Of the whole earth is moulded forth anew, 
 
 Taking the aspect which even yet it bears — 
 
 Aspect now deeply marked with many a line, 
 
 From almost threescore centuries of years, 
 
 Yet flushed with all the freshness and the bloom 
 
 And vigour of youth's prime. All hail to thee ! 
 
 Hail to that countenance familiar — 
 
 Those well-known features, full of years, yet 
 
 young- 
 Linked with all holy things and venerable 
 In the whole past of human nature's story — 
 And linked with hopes that are unutterable 
 Of some great happiness yet unattained, 
 Now, but an aspiration for the future. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 
 
 V. 
 
 Time flows apace — the tiny tribute-stream 
 Of an eternal ocean — and it bears 
 Into her womb the gatherings of its course ; 
 And as a stream carries to Ocean's bed 
 A thousand gleanings in its brief career — 
 Gleanings predestined yet to fructify, 
 In ages yet untold, new continents — 
 So doth Time waft into the vast abyss 
 Of all eternity things full of wonder 
 And most mysterious, and destined, too, 
 To come to great and glorious fruition. 
 
 Earth is at last prepared, — the poles are fixed,- 
 Tho seasons run with course invariable ; 
 Aud genial warmth, with cool, refreshing airs 
 
30 POEMS. 
 
 Are duly mixed, and make the atmosphere 
 
 Fit for development of higher life. 
 
 And now the beasts of prey, lesser of size, 
 
 Roam not so formidable; and every brood 
 
 Of monstrous bulk and form hath disappeared. 
 
 The earth is peopled with diversity 
 
 Of animated creatures infinite — 
 
 A vast and graduated scale of life, 
 
 In which a perfect harmony of parts 
 
 Excludes disorder. There is no excess 
 
 Of any race of beings. The more strong, 
 
 The fierce, the violent are also few 
 
 In number, and they haunt the solitude 
 
 Of desert places ; — those that more abound 
 
 Are so encompassed round with enemies, 
 
 That they can ne'er exceed their due proportion; 
 
 And yet so nicely are the means devised 
 
 This order to maintain, that nought designed 
 
 To be preserved can perish, in the scheme 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 31 
 
 Of things created. There is one vast plan 
 
 Pervadeth life, and its two mighty realms, 
 
 Which share the world, are counterparts so true, 
 
 That not an insect — not a worm that crawls, 
 
 But finds for all its wants provision made, 
 
 As 'twere expressly — finds some leaf, some blade 
 
 Or tiny herb created for itself, 
 
 And for no other. If there, then, is aim 
 
 And purpose in the world so manifest, 
 
 And such a harmony of parts minute, 
 
 "What is the sense and purport of the whole ? — 
 
 'Tis happiness. Yea, happiness ; — but yet 
 
 This multifarious scene of animal joy 
 
 Contenteth not, — too largely seemeth pain 
 
 Mingled with pleasure. How these creatures fight 
 
 And prey upon each other, — nay, some live 
 
 Only by others' misery : — methinks 
 
 This is not all, — there lacketh something yet 
 
 To bring to light the purpose of this world. 
 
32 POEMS. 
 
 O art thou yet awake? Of what deep sleep 
 Of the great past art thou to break the silence — 
 Thou, who art destined to redeem this void, 
 And to complete heaven's high creative plan ? 
 "What are these brutish things that crawl and creep, 
 "Wander and prowl about this beauteous world ? 
 How all unconsciously they spend the gifts 
 In life conferred, — how they expatiate 
 In the luxuriances innumerable 
 Of sense, and drink the sun's pure, joyful light, 
 Radiant and sparkling with its thousand hues, — 
 Taste, hear, and smell, and most exultingly 
 Put all their powers of motion into play — 
 And, in the midst of all this revelry, 
 These boundless feelings of delight, enjoyment, 
 Spending the riches, using up the art 
 Thus on their being lavished, there is not 
 One single note amongst the multitude 
 That hints interrogation, or astonishment. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 33 
 
 What desecration haunts these mighty woods, 
 These flowery fields, these verdant hills and dales ! 
 It is a Babel of most dissonant sounds, 
 Various, unmeaning. Here the serpent's hiss, 
 There the loud roar or the ear-piercing shriek 
 Of beast or bird of prey. Or — if there's aught 
 In them of meaning — 'tis the rude attempt 
 Of wild, untutored nature to express 
 Passions, affections, sufferings, delights, 
 Wild as herself. Wherefore this long delay — 
 Period of hope prolonged, and expectation ? 
 See! There is one dark form that seems to rise 
 Amongst the crowd of shapes inferior, 
 Nobler and statelier than the rest. He roams, 
 Attended by his mate, amongst the woods, 
 As if he thought himself greatly above 
 The creatures round him, for ho lifts his head 
 Erect and distant from the earth, and walks, 
 And carries in his hands a sturdy bra; 
 D 
 
34 POEMS. 
 
 Beft from some tree, and held in readiness 
 
 As a defence against his enemies. 
 
 He is superior — hath a form more perfect ' 
 
 Than all the beasts that wander by his side, 
 
 And hath sagacity excelling theirs; 
 
 Yet is his nature brutish thoroughly. 
 
 Look at the hideous face, the bestial skin, 
 
 The tail, the claws, — and above all observe, 
 
 He hath no power of speech articulate, 
 
 But makes a chattering sound, and utters cries 
 
 Grotesque, and wild, and unintelligible. 
 
 Strangest of animals that roam primeval woods, 
 Whence art thou ? wherefore here? say, art thou come 
 To join this feast of nature that is spread 
 "With such a large magnificence around, 
 And lavish splendour and luxuriance, 
 And taste and skill? Behold the other guests, 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 35 
 
 All bidden to the same, how numerous 
 
 And motley is the multitude; — and thou, 
 
 As by thy look and gesture it would seem, 
 
 Who art invited to assume a seat 
 
 Of honour and distinction, even thou 
 
 Hast not a word to say. Eude is their joy, 
 
 And void of speech, — but thine ? Hast thou no way 
 
 To show thy claim to be a different 
 
 And nobler beast — no form more excellent 
 
 Of showing joy and gratitude, that so, 
 
 "When at that glorious table thou didst seat 
 
 Thyself amid the others, thou mightst be 
 
 Their spokesman and thine own, and mightst address 
 
 Some token suitable of thanks to Him, 
 
 The feast-preparer and the guest-inviter ? 
 
 What! there is then a spell upon thee, beast, 
 And God forbids thco to pronounce His name? 
 d 2 
 
36 POEMS. 
 
 He would not honour from a voice like thine, 
 
 And therefore hath He set upon thy throat* 
 
 A mark, a seal, to make thee separate, 
 
 Distinct for ever, impotent of speech. 
 
 Then, take thy place in silence, — 'tis not thou 
 
 Who art designed and prepared to be 
 
 Spokesman and thanksgiver, — thou hast not got 
 
 The faculty of knowledge — canst not ask 
 
 That simple question — Who prepared this feast, 
 
 Sent out his invitations, and did mete 
 
 Each his particular share, that none might leave 
 
 Unsatisfied His table ? 'Tis not thou 
 
 To appreciate such a feast, — and to respond 
 
 In terms suitable and adequate 
 
 Calls for a different presence, different power, 
 
 Order of faculties, — and till he come, 
 
 * See Dr. Eoget's Animal Physiology, on the structure of 
 the larynx in the family of the baboons. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 37 
 
 The harmonies of speech, the music-flow 
 
 Of soul-expression — only medium fit 
 
 Eor such a duty's high accomplishment — 
 
 Shall find no utterance through the vulgar 
 
 pipes 
 Of bestial natures. Only, till then, does God 
 Permit dim intimations of His praise, 
 Obscure precursors of that nobler voice, 
 In the sweet tuneful warblings of the birds, 
 Who in the groves meanwhile perform the part 
 Of nature's humbler priesthood. — 
 
 Oh, how long 
 Mute Expectation brooded o'er the earth, 
 And Hope, from her eternal seat in heaven, 
 Looked down with pensive, dubious joy! Eow 
 
 long 
 This sphered world with nn exclusive reign 
 
38 POEMS. 
 
 Passion and Sense possessed, and furnished 
 
 strange 
 Confounding sights! Wherefore and whence this 
 
 thing 
 So full of passing wonder — that adown 
 Such boundless lapse of ages, it was heard 
 Upon this earth, — and it was seen, — that light 
 Pilled countless eyes with splendour, — taste and 
 
 smell 
 Wantoned luxuriously in shapes more various 
 Than fancy can conceive, and passion played 
 Her boisterous symphonies. Yet was there none 
 To question, or dispute, or share the reign. 
 Passion and Sense are but the younger sisters. 
 Long hath their presence whispered the approach 
 Of one who is their sister, eldest born, 
 Tho' still to come ; — and there's a natural awe 
 Steals o'er their hearts as silently the hour 
 Draws near of her arrival. — 
 
TABLEAU PROM GEOLOGY. 39 
 
 Lo! she comes, 
 Of presence most majestical, and bears 
 Upon her hands a most mysterious crown, 
 The expressive mark and symbol of her great- 
 ness, — * 
 Reason asserts her reign. As o'er the wide 
 And beautiful, and rich, and varied face 
 Of the new-born creation I send forth 
 A curious, searching gaze, in the far East 
 I see a pleasant land. One favoured spot 
 There is of rarer beauty, planted o'er 
 "With olive grove and palm-tree. Through it run 
 Meandering streams, whose verdant banks exhale 
 The odour of many flowers. It is a place 
 Most grateful to the sense; tempered the air 
 To genial warmth ; verdant and beautiful 
 The vegetation, — while the song of birds 
 
 * See the " Structure of the Hand," by Sir Charles IV11. 
 
40 POEMS. 
 
 Mingles with murmur of the running brooks, — 
 And 'tis inhabited. 
 
 A different race 
 From any heretofore seen on the earth, 
 Have made it their abode. Ah, now I see, 
 Now recognize, the purport of that world ! 
 I feel the sense of the whole scene complete. 
 Now lacketh there no more to fill the heart 
 With the diviner charm of sympathy. 
 I read it in that nobler form, erect; 
 I read it in that eye, and broad expanse 
 Of the imperial forehead — in the smile 
 That plays around that mouth — the hand, 
 
 the foot, 
 Moulded to shape so fine and admirable, 
 That they declare him only half-akin 
 To every grosser animal around. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 41 
 
 Twain are they, and surrounded by a group 
 
 Of tiny pictures, beautiful and true, 
 
 Of what themselves they are : — and, hush ! 
 
 methinks 
 There is a new-born sound rippling the air! 
 'Tis no rude cry, that sound, such as the beasts 
 Impulsive utter when beset by wants, 
 And nature bids them supplicate relief. 
 Their voice is language, — 'tis instinct with that 
 Changeth mere life into a gift divine, 
 And earth, which was a lair for brutish beasts, 
 Into a noble residence and home. 
 I hear the flow of sounds articulate 
 Fall on my ear, — and lo ! my heart 
 Is strangely touched, for a new world is opened, 
 And as I listen mind communicates 
 To mind the secrets of the life unseen, 
 And soul to soul reveals its common natal*. 
 
42 POEMS. 
 
 How is the world changed now that I see 
 The stirring scene crowned with the life of man ! 
 'Tis the rude joy of animal life no more, 
 For which this world was framed, — for there is 
 
 now 
 In man's more perfect nature the expression 
 Of loftier purposes of happiness — 
 Happiness fit for him who made the whole, 
 To look on, and maintain, and regulate. 
 Yes, 'twas the purpose of this great creation, 
 And worthy the Creator. Now that orb, 
 "Wheeling its flight stupendous through the heavens, 
 Swells into majesty before my sight, — 
 'Tis fraught with holy purposes of bliss 
 For an intelligent and noble race: 
 The world was made for them — they for the world. 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 43 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now is that dusky mass — that erst revolved 
 Around the sun an elemental chaos — 
 At last emerged into the splendid day 
 Of a consummate order, well-contrived. 
 Finished the work of preparation, — now 
 It is a world inhabited, — the seat 
 Of manifold life, and wafts the precious freight 
 Of an incalculable happiness. 
 
 Dread Spirit of Eternal Wisdom! Thou 
 Who art a listener to each feeble voice 
 Of things Thyself hast fashioned, dost Thou hear 
 How from that world up to thy mighty throne 
 There comes a cry — a voice which firon ftltt heart 
 Of human nature riseth ? — * Whence, whence?' 
 
44 POEMS. 
 
 1 Whither, "Whither V And anon, the air 
 
 Circling around that now prepared world, 
 
 Takes up the cry and beareth it to heaven. 
 
 O dost Thou hear it? 'Tis a voice that thou 
 
 Thyself hast caused. It comes not from that vast 
 
 And multitudinous life which erewhile held 
 
 Exclusive sway over that spacious realm ; 
 
 'Tis from the last created that 'tis sent, 
 
 Thy last and noblest work — even from man's heart, 
 
 And never ceaseth. 'Tis no common voice 
 
 Hath found that utterance — but the strong appeal 
 
 Of earnest thought reflecting on itself, 
 
 Of passionate desires, self-questioning, 
 
 Of hopes and fears majestic as the source 
 
 Whence they have ta'en mysterious origin. 
 
 Eesolve, what is it all, this happiness 
 Of which man finds himself, of sudden, heir ? 
 
TABLEAU FROM GEOLOGY. 45 
 
 Say, what is all this rich and vast dominion 
 
 Laid at his feet, its sole and sovereign lord ? 
 
 Sure 'tis no dream, no show to entertain 
 
 For one brief hour a dying consciousness — 
 
 No pageant's rare device, for mere display 
 
 Of a supernal and triumphant art. 
 
 Not so in vain thou workest, — something lies 
 
 Behind the veil, which separates the unseen 
 
 From visible things, — and Thou hast got an end, 
 
 Some great, eternal purpose to fulfil. 
 
 Amen ! so be it. — Time, which bares the scroll 
 
 Of man's allotted fortunes shall declare 
 
 That sovereign will,- — for nothing chances e'er 
 
 By accident, by error, or by wrong, 
 
 To render void Thy work. 
 
46 
 
 A METAMOKPHOSIS. 
 
 In happy moment dost thou take thy flight, — 
 
 Mooring thy bark, when not a breath nor shower 
 
 Euffles the waters, in secluded bight, — 
 
 Full of thy purpose — conscious of thy power. 
 
 Methinks I see one tiny foot and bright, 
 
 And then another, nicely grope its way ; 
 
 Anon a head emerges into light, 
 
 And forthwith wings and all visit the day — 
 
 And such a day ! — to taste for the first time 
 
 The sweets of new existence, and to come, 
 
 Thus gloriously appareled and sublime, 
 
 In perfect use of all the varied sum 
 
 Of all thy powers, mount the sun's glittering beam, 
 
 And live thy life. It is a wondrous dream ! 
 
4? 
 
 THE BEE. 
 
 Thy hum is music! What a life is thine, 
 
 Thou tin j reveller, that sipp'st the wine 
 
 Nature distills for thee from every flower ! 
 
 Tell me, thou wanderer, by what art divine 
 
 Thou track'st thy way, back to thy native bower 
 
 Through the wild maze of field and wood and fell 
 
 Thou travell'st o'er. O for a single hour 
 
 Of consciousness with thee ! "What things I'd tell, 
 
 Passing belief, of secrets in thy soul, 
 
 And mysteries of art wrapt in the spell 
 
 Of thy existence — watching intent thy whole 
 
 Busy career, — now from some curious well 
 
 Pumping the air and nectar,— or a roll 
 
 Of plastic wax moulding to artful cell. 
 
48 
 
 THE RED-BREAST. 
 
 Mayhap, sweet E-obin, should this nether sphere 
 
 Ever be visited by some remote 
 
 Dweller in other world, and he should hear 
 
 Thy simple strain, he'd call to mind the note 
 
 Of some familiar bird of that his dear 
 
 And distant home, where too a simple throat 
 
 Poured forth that melody — the same as here, 
 
 Soothing with cheerful music pensive thought. 
 
 Therefore, sweet Robin, I shall con thy strain, 
 
 And treasure it up most truly in my heart, 
 
 That should — some future time — these notes again 
 
 Visit my ear, they may again impart 
 
 Loved memories of earth, the soul would fain 
 
 At times recall, nor e'er let quite depart. 
 
4.9 
 
 THE EAGLE. 
 
 Fab off, upon a bare and craggy peak, 
 Brooding with folded wing, he sits alone; 
 Quick move his eyelids grey, he whets his beak, 
 And eyes the abyss below ever anon. 
 Proud monarch of the air that thus dost keep 
 The lone watch on thy rude and rocky throne, 
 What moved but now thy lordly heart to leap — 
 Heart which ne'er yet the throb of fear might own ? 
 Was it yon speck poised mid-air down the steep 
 And pine-clad mountain's side, afar remote? 
 His wings expand, and with majestic sweep 
 lie mounts the air, and shrill exulting note, 
 That sends a pulse of terror through the deep 
 Wide silence, startling Echo from her sleep. 
 
50 POEMS. 
 
 INFANCY. 
 
 Mark well the tiny voice — the plump, spread arms 
 The artless smile — the little sprawling feet, — 
 And the fond mother gazing on its charms, 
 Breathing her heart in music low and sweet. 
 They make a picture. See ! that motion fleet, 
 Erom life's exuberance, which now alarms 
 The youthful matron, — now his little throat 
 Croweth like chanticleer for very glee. 
 Tell me, thou sweet musician, how thy note 
 Moves so the heart ? Is it that there's in thee 
 A spiritual joy more bright and pure and free 
 From taint of human sorrow than the lot 
 Of manhood knows, after his infancy ? 
 
POEMS. 51 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Teaes glide away — the tiny form expands, 
 So helpless once, into a blooming child, 
 Frisky, robnst, who rushing from the hands 
 Of his fond mother, meditates a wild 
 Escape to freedom from these loving bands, 
 And screams with laughter as at last he stands 
 Caught in his flight, casting his eye behind, 
 Half-breathless, on the cheated, well-loved foe. 
 Ah ! to her heart its easy way doth find 
 That laugh, like music, beautiful and low. 
 Now, with an effort she restrains the flow 
 Of her too yielding love, trusting to blind 
 The dear, rebellious darling with a show 
 Of terrors that, alas ! he knows are wind. 
 
 I 2 
 
52 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 Fkesh as an April morn — as prone to alloy 
 Laughter's gay sunshine with the gloom of tears, — 
 Voiced like a bird that in mid-heaven careers, 
 Pouring o'er earth high notes of love and joy, — 
 Rapid like it and restless — graceful, coy, — 
 Embarrassed still by childhood's lingering fears, 
 Tet full of courage, proud of heart — the boy 
 Shrinks from the breath of shame, and midst his 
 
 peers 
 Kindleth at voice of praise. 'Tis come — the hour 
 Sacred to culture. — Now unto his soul 
 Exultingly expanding, as a flower 
 Opening its petals, is a wise control 
 As pruning to the plant, — as genial shower 
 Instruction's voice instilling truth with power. 
 
53 
 
 THE KIFLE VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Not eagle's eye a prey could mark as well, 
 But seen on the horizon, — while his heart 
 Beats with far different fire: "Bine" 's the spell 
 He conjures round his home — the charm his art 
 Invests the land with, where his footsteps dwell. 
 God speed the work and workman! no mean part 
 He hath but noble mission, — 'tis to tell 
 The message, — " Peace and Friendship " to the 
 
 world, 
 His voice — no whisper — may seem proudly hurled, 
 But hath no note of menace; — cherished names, 
 Emblazoned on the banner thus unfurled, — 
 " Country," and " Hearth," and " Altar," each pro- 
 claims 
 His mission, " Home ;" yet, ! for " Tract " of flames 
 From " Ours " to right a brother's sight and aims. 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 IN FIVE SONNETS. 
 
 I saw her while the blush of genial spring 
 "Was glowing still upon her ripening years, — 
 And joy and laughter to the spirits cling, 
 The charm of youth, dispelling doubts and fears ;- 
 I saw her, and I loved her, for I thought, 
 That touching countenance and form did bring 
 Even such an idol as my soul had sought 
 Before my heart, unto a new hope brought. 
 A quiet, self-possessing mind did fling 
 Its charm around her, and a beauty grew 
 Upon her cheek, her mouth, ever unveiling 
 The secret charm, a heart within, that through 
 That smile its generous sentiment revealing, 
 Prom mine its sympathy resistless drew. 
 
LOVE. 55 
 
 II. 
 
 She hath a beauty in mine eyes that ne'er 
 Departetb, and a spirit, breathing round 
 Her form, stirreth my heart, as if a tear 
 Would come, — such tear as gladness oft hath found. 
 It is the spirit of beauty that doth lay 
 Its spell thus round her, or to bless or wound 
 This heart of mine; — and as a moth will stray 
 Towards the flame that brings it to the ground, 
 Wounded and scathed, so will my soul obey 
 This spell that draws it, with unnumbered ties 
 Of secret, troubled joy, nor night nor day 
 Does its power leave me, while my spirit flies 
 Still back, to drink the magic from her eyes. 
 
56 
 
 ill. 
 
 'Twas in a crowd I met her — in a crowd, 
 Upon another's arm she hung, the while 
 I stood beside her, — yet I saw her smile, 
 And talk, — her voice did reach me, though not loud 
 Its touching tones. I love that voice, — I'd wile 
 That arm to mine, if 'twere not that the proud 
 Trappings of wealth do part us. Then my voice 
 "With hers would mingle, as the clear blue cloud 
 Of heaven and burning stars did make rejoice 
 Our eyes, — then would I feel that beating heart 
 Touch softly mine, and yield my soul to joys 
 Which hope and fancy dream of, but no art 
 Can minister to me if she depart. 
 
I'll twine a wreath to deck her brow — that brow 
 So beautiful in fairness and in form, 
 That shall not hide her curls, but only throw 
 A mild refreshing shade and perfume o'er them. 
 And there, the blush white rose shall faintly blow 
 With the sweet violet, and deftly show 
 Their delicate tints, amidst green variously 
 Of woodbine and of laurel formed, the glow 
 Of some kind thought shall light, meanwhile, her eye 
 And tinge her cheek, so beautifully pale 
 Before, with the soft blush, that to the rose 
 Belongs which decorates her wreath. But frail 
 And fading are those flowers : not so the love 
 That finds an imago in those words I've wove. 
 
58 
 
 A change there was, — just such as I have seen, 
 "When the fair girl assumes the dress of age ; 
 Her curls no longer sported, as had been 
 Their wont, in yellow sun-light, but in sage 
 Snow-like enfoldings meekly hid their sheen. 
 But there was something in that snowy white 
 That stole, like music, o'er my soul, I ween, 
 Making her spotless forehead touch the sight, 
 In contrast, beautiful, — and to her een 
 Giving a lustre, like the pure star-light. 
 Ah ! in that hour, a look, a smile, a word, 
 Touched me as ne'er did eloquence in height 
 Of passion, when in men's minds it reared 
 A monument, for worth by men revered. 
 
POEMS. 59 
 
 FAMINE. 
 
 [And there was a great famine in Samaria ; and behold, they 
 besieged it, until an ass's head was sold for fourscore pieces 
 of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove's dung for 
 five pieces of silver. — 2 Kings, vi. 25.] 
 
 The mother knelt, wan, pale, her child before, 
 Her eyes were lifted to the clear blue sky ; 
 While her lips mutter, and her tears down pour 
 Upon the couch, on which her child doth lie. 
 "Be still," — but no — 'tis death, grim death is 
 
 there ; 
 No stifled sob — no fretful, peevish cry 
 Breaks on "the mother's instinct-breathed prayer* 
 What is't to her, that never, never more 
 The sun-light of its smile shall chase her care, 
 Nor the familiar, well-taught words shall pour 
 
60 POEMS. 
 
 Oil o'er the heart, long strained with want's fell woe ? 
 Stilled too the cries — those fearful cries, that tore 
 Her heart with anguish. Well that heart did know 
 Her infant's pain — strange* (for a mother's) tears 
 these flow. 
 
 ii. 
 
 But hark ! a groan disturbs the scene of death ! 
 It came not from that gentle mother's breast. 
 Another form sits by the fireless hearth, 
 The gaunt, stiff hands upheld, with cold opprest, 
 To draw a charm from the cold spot of earth. 
 Stalwart the form, but from the stooping chest 
 Comes forth with pain the weary labouring breath. 
 
 * Tears of joy for the release of her child. This poem was 
 written 1842 : it is an extreme picture, but, happily cannot 
 find parallel in 1863. 
 
FAMINE. 61 
 
 Moulded for strength the limbs, though now are gone 
 The full round forms, that vigorous life exprest. 
 Haggard and pale his cheek — his eyes are drawn 
 Toward those implements of toil, that won 
 With sweat of brow the daily scant repast 
 In better times; and now, in vain represt, 
 The silent tear steals trickling down his breast. 
 
 in. 
 
 Now on the air chimes forth a dismal sound ; 
 The passing bell proclaims that all is o'er. 
 Father, mother, child no more are to be found — 
 Their hearth is desolate, — 'twas desolate before. 
 Cold now their place, — 'twas colder above ground. 
 Now are those miseries gone for evermore. 
 1 hurt-breaking cries — a mother wildly wringing 
 Her hinds, while help her baby's eyes implo: 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 A father's spirit broken — his despair flinging 
 Around him looks of death, and woe, and pain, — 
 All gone thej are — the ceaseless toils just bringing 
 Enough, life, not to cherish, but retain, — 
 And that abyss of deeper woe — the clinging 
 To hopeless want, to life, where death is thousand 
 gain. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Ho ! do the shepherds of the people sleep ? 
 Flame not the watch-fires up from hill to hill ? 
 See ! how the grim, gaunt wolf hath ta'en his leap 
 Into the fold, to work his murderous will ! 
 Hark to those cries of terror ! How they fill 
 The shivering air ! On, onwards still they go, 
 While on he stalks, his ravenous maw to still. 
 Up, shepherds ! rescue, — ere " the master" know. 
 
FAMINE. 63 
 
 Up ! to your arms ! the ravenous monster kill ! 
 Woe ! if it perish not — a treble woe, 
 Shepherds, to you ; Ye did your duty ill. 
 Fiercer than furnace will his anger glow, 
 "Whose sheep they are — who knows them all by 
 
 name, 
 And of each " lost one " dire account will claim. 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 A CANDIDATE FOR R.A. 
 
 Eemoyed afar from tumult and from strife, 
 The vulgar din and bustle of the street, 
 Our artist leads his elevated life 
 In simple attic, — one of the elite, 
 The select few, who, dignified, retreat 
 From all the meaner contacts that are rife 
 In lower regions. Here the rising sun 
 Blithely salutes him with his earliest rays, 
 And here each sportive breeze is free to run 
 All unconfined, and whistle as it plays. 
 A sky-light skilfully contrived he has, 
 Shaded with crimson curtains that have done 
 Good service. — Now, after successive days 
 Of more than wonted toil, he takes his ease. 
 
A CANDIDATE FOR R.A. 65 
 
 II. 
 
 A cap, with purple tassel, hath, 'twould seem, 
 
 Perched on the very apex of his head 
 
 To hide its baldness ; from his pipe a gleam 
 
 Of smouldering fire at intervals will shed 
 
 A transient glow upon his face, half-hid 
 
 'Mid wreaths of smoke, that circling upwards 
 
 stream, 
 Then like volcano, marking in the course 
 And current of his thoughts some turbid fall, 
 Eapid, or gulf. Yes ! things fit to appal 
 Lie on his mind this day. He fain would 
 
 force 
 His mien to stern composure, but his all — 
 Fortune and fame— are trembling in the scalo. 
 One paltry breath from one capricious mm 
 Can make or ruin. Hark! a knock— a call! 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 \_A Utile girl enters with an armful of 
 papers and reviews, which she deposits 
 on the table and withdraws. The artist 
 takes a step forward, then remains 
 rooted to the spot, gazing intently on the 
 heap before him, A cold perspiration 
 begins to break out on his forehead, 
 which he wipes with his cap, and at- 
 tempting, with a desperate effort at cool- 
 ness, to take another whiff of his pipe, 
 puts the bowl to his mouth and burns 
 himself This seems to bring him to 
 himself ; — he dashes his pipe into a 
 corner, seizes the papers, and retreats 
 with them to a sofa, ivhere he continues 
 some time turning them over rapidly, 
 one after the other, with various excla- 
 mations and much eagerness. ,] 
 
 III. 
 
 "Infamous treatment! scandalous abuse 
 Of a free press — to damn without a word- 
 
A CANDIDATE FOR R.A. 6? 
 
 Assassinate by silence ! Foul-mouthed horde, 
 Thus could I — [stamps heavily and grinds with his 
 heel on the floor] — fool! fool that I am ! to lose 
 My equanimity. — Still it is hard — 
 Bitter beyond endurance! They refuse 
 Oue word of recognition. All my years 
 Of struggle, toil, unconquerable zeal 
 And true devotion for 'high art* with sneers 
 Are met — with taunts in every sense more real 
 That they are nought — sheer nothing — zounds! my ears 
 Tingle with aching void. Ye haggard fears — 
 Ye dismal doubts, avaunt ! They cannot steal 
 This consciousness [thumps his breast with loth his 
 fists'] that onward, upward cheers. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "Heavens! my great work, in which untiringly 
 I spent my time— my substance— deepest thought,— 
 Where my conceptions of 'high art' are brought 
 F 2 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 To practical issue — tested unflinchingly, — 
 
 Where a severe simplicity is wrought 
 
 To unity with greatness, and the true 
 
 Is ever seen, 'midst all embellishment. — 
 
 The theme — Miltonic and magnificent — 
 
 That hour of battle when heaven's sons o'erthrew 
 
 The sons of night, and Lucifer was sent, 
 
 Hurled by a thunderbolt, to hell. — The view 
 
 Of Lucifer himself — the anguish blent 
 
 "With terror on the face — the unearthly hue — 
 
 Satanic majesty of lineament — " 
 
 [A hasty step is heard approaching, — the 
 door flies open, and a male visitor 
 rushes into the room, excited, and out 
 of breath. The Aetist regards him 
 with astonishment.] 
 
A CANDIDATE FOR R.A. €9 
 
 Artist. — "What, in the name of heaven ? 
 
 Friend. News — great news ! 
 
 Artist. — Pshaw ! what care I for Turkish vic- 
 tories ? 
 Eussian defeats — or bulletins of lies ? 
 I'm sick to death. 
 
 Friend. Ha! hear! it will amuse, — 
 
 Aye, 'twill delight you ! 
 
 Artist (interrupting eagerly). — What! there are 
 reviews ? 
 You have seen critiques ? Say, what — 
 
 Friend (ruhhing his hands, and pacing hastily 
 up and down). — Fact— fact — it vies 
 Quite with miraculous. Nay, had these eyes 
 Not seen and witnessed — 
 
 Artist. Man ! speak out ! explain, 
 
 I listen. 
 
 Friend. Yes! I recollect the day 
 We packed the picture; I recall again 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 Our argument together. You would lay 
 Claim to peculiar credit for that trait 
 In Lucifer's visage. I averred, in vain, 
 That I had seen it — where, I ..could not say — 
 
 VI. 
 
 Artist (interrupting). — Well ! well ! the end ? 
 Uriend. I told you that I knew 
 
 Th' original — that I was all but sure 
 It was a nose I'd seen. But now the clue 
 Is in my hands. The very * Simon Pure ' 
 Has bought your picture. Yes ! 'tis sold — 'tis 
 
 true — 
 Marked 'sold' upon the list. [Offers a congra- 
 tulatory shake of the hands — Artist 
 holds back incredulous.] 
 Artist. What! sold? and who? 
 
A CANDIDATE FOR R.A. ?1 
 
 Sold, did you say ? repeat it, I conjure — 
 Sold? 
 
 Friend, — Eor three hundred guineas. 
 Artist (bewildered). But, — look there, — 
 
 I am ignored, you see ! 
 
 Friend. Bah ! smoke — thin, empty air ! 
 
 At once I know him, — 'tis a curious case, — 
 Like as twin brothers — like as they can stare, — 
 The nose — 
 Artist. Oh, drop the nose ! Say who — 
 
 Friend. His Grace 
 
 Artist (delighted) — A Duke ? 
 Friend. — Has got a i chef ' [who values his own 
 face. 
 
 [Artist receives the proffered shale of 
 his Friend's hand with modest embar~ 
 rassment.1 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 THE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 Slendee and graceful is she, — like the stalk 
 Of a fair lily sparkling in the shine 
 Of summer morn, and tangling twine 
 Her raven locks dishevelled down her back. 
 Merry and bright her eyes, and seem to talk 
 And commune with the spirit that's within. 
 Her dress is slim and spare, and on her arm 
 Hangs a small basket with some fading flowers. 
 She hurries through the streets wearied and warm, 
 Poor little Nell ! and quietly 'mid the swarm 
 Of passengers steers her way. At last, where 
 
 towers 
 A lofty window, bright with all the charm 
 Of gas and flaunting silk, she stops. Here cowers 
 Behind a board a little female form. 
 
THE FLOWER GIRL. 73 
 
 II. 
 
 A shrunken form, through poverty and care 
 Aud burthen of long years, three score and 
 
 ten; — 
 On a low stool she sits — her all of ware 
 Are rows of apples which she now and then 
 Solemnly counts, nor heeds the show, how bare, 
 But rubs their rosy cheeks, and rubs again. 
 Good heavens ! old Nell, thou strik'st me with 
 
 amaze 
 At thy so great effrontery of soul, 
 Thus by the side of wealth's o'erwhelming blaze 
 Coolly to sit when thou mightst find some hole 
 "Wherein to hide. And there are other ways. 
 Hold forth thy hand, — that lady hath a dole 
 Eeady for age and want. Nay, do not raise 
 That eye on me, old Nell, with such a scowl. 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Just at this moment into fancy heaps 
 
 She moves her tempting store, when two small 
 
 hands 
 Glide round her neck, and laughingly there peeps 
 A pale face o'er her shoulder. Nelly stands 
 Beside her grandam ; for, as evening creeps 
 Into the night, the two are wont to wend 
 Their steps together home, and Nelly keeps 
 True to her time : glad for — the day — the end 
 To both of watch and wander. Now, as sweeps 
 Past them the busy crowd they slowly bend 
 Homewards away: — that young, that aged heart, 
 Knows in the mighty throng only one friend. 
 With them in life's great world there's none to 
 
 blend 
 One thought or feeling, — no — their life's apart. 
 
THE FLOWER GIRL. 75 
 
 IV. 
 
 They pass the busy streets, lofty and wide, 
 The glittering maze of windows and of lamp, 
 Leave the pale light of moon and stars, and 
 
 glide 
 Away into a region where the tramp 
 And stir of life grows still : here they abide. 
 'Tis up a creaking, dark, and narrow stair, 
 Into an attic chamber at the back. 
 A candle lit — the look is somewhat bare, 
 But not so bad : no carpet — walls too 
 
 black ; 
 Still there's a table, — an old arm-chair, — 
 A piece of looking-glass without a crack, — 
 One stool, — a cupboard with a shining pair 
 Of cups, — a teapot, — and in truth no lack 
 Of comfortablo odds and ends are there. 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 Y. 
 
 The child hath lit the the fire, — 'tis rather small 
 Yet cheerful 'tis, — also sets forth the tea. 
 Proceeds the humble meal and spare withal. 
 Young Nelly, on her stool, sips from a wee — 
 A tiny cup — memorial of that day 
 "When at her mother's death old Nell brought 
 
 there 
 The orphan child. The old woman — 'tis her way, 
 Now tea is o'er, draws round the arm-chair 
 Beside the fire, letting her child display 
 Her housewife skill, which she with quiet air 
 Shows quite peculiar. All being cleared away, 
 She with her stool glides to a corner, where, 
 In her own simple fashion she may play, 
 And watch the old one slumbering off dull 
 
THE FLOWER GIRL. 77 
 
 VI. 
 
 Just then it chanced she took a whim her hair 
 To dress and decorate, — she knows the place 
 Where what she needs lies hid — but then to 
 
 dare ! 
 Through some mysterious cause old Nell her face 
 Hath set against that beauty — makes her wear 
 As now her locks, at peril of disgrace. 
 A mutinous fit hath seized the girl's mind, — 
 Perhaps the old lady naps sounder than wont, — 
 Softly she steals the fatal comb to find, 
 Plants by the glass her stool, and stands 
 
 upon't. 
 No easy task to unravel what the wind 
 All day hath twisted, and at first she can't, 
 Still boldly tugs and pulls, easting behind 
 At times a glance, — triiles tho guilty daunt. 
 
78 POEMS. 
 
 But pliant by degrees, and sleek and trim 
 Her tresses grow at length, and now she likes 
 In various ways to range them. "What was whim 
 Now a strange pleasure proves, — a something 
 
 strikes 
 The child in her own face, which ne'er till now 
 She thought of, — 'tis a pleasant thought — she 
 
 dwells 
 Upon it in the glass. Now on her brow 
 She parts her hair, which falls in gentle swells 
 Of natural curl round, and turns I trow 
 On every side her face, — the glass still tells 
 The same delightful tale: but here, somehow, 
 She lost her wits, for like a peal of bells 
 Out rung a merry laugh the chamber through, 
 Might move a power of sleep stronger than Nell's. 
 
THE FLOWER GIRL. ?0 
 
 Till. 
 
 Old Nell awakes, — she turns towards the child 
 By chance her opening eyes, heavy with sleep ; 
 The effect is strange, — her eyes assume a wild 
 Scared look, as if some horrid dream might 
 
 keep 
 Still hold of her. She starts up with a shrill 
 And piercing scream, then falls into the deep 
 Low arm-chair, as in a faint. A thrill 
 Of terror takes the child, — a moment still — 
 Stricken she stands, and then begins to weep 
 Most bitterly. The old woman lifts her eyes 
 Again towards her, and "O child," she cries, 
 'You've killed me!" Nelly ventures now to 
 
 creep 
 Up to her chair, and tearful and sobbing tries 
 Gently to kiss her as still faint she 
 
80 
 
 IX. 
 
 " This once forgive me, I'll ne'er touch it more ! 
 Forgive !" — She took the withered hand, while tears 
 Fast trickling fell. — Nell's eye was wandering o'er 
 The child, so changed by that sad trick of hers, — 
 At last she spoke, — haggard the look she wore: — 
 "Ah Nelly! such she once was — at thy years; 
 ! like thy mother, — Nelly, 'tis a sore, 
 Sore memory. I see her now — young, fair — 
 But beauty is no blessing to the poor, 
 To her no blessing. It has been my prayer 
 To Heaven to make thee different, for the pain 
 Would be too much for this old heart — again 
 To lose my child. Oh! once was hard to bear. 
 No — if you love me, her look no more wear." 
 
A LEGEND. 81 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ik time remote, while earth, though far from young, 
 "Was a new home for man, the fable goes, 
 There lived a minstrel who was famed among 
 That olden race, one of the first of those 
 Who gave their life and labour up to song. 
 A history like his — so strange — but shows 
 Its great remoteness. In some temperate clime 
 'Twould seem he had his dwelling, where the ground 
 Tossed at its settling rudely, here sublime 
 Soars to the clouds, there sinks to depths profound, — 
 Where rivers rushing, run a race with time, 
 And wave untrodden woods, and sobs the sound 
 Of sea-girt shores. No trace of him is found 
 Now but this record told in feeble rhyme. 
 o 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Streams murmured as they ran in days of old 
 
 Even as now, only not then so deep 
 
 Had ploughed their furrows in the grass-grown 
 
 mould ; 
 And sun-compelled the air would rippling sweep 
 O'er earth's broad face, and ring a thousand-fold 
 The changes of sweet notes, whether 'tmight creep 
 In measure soft and lulling through the trees, 
 Or through some rocky fissure, like a sigh, 
 Breathe cadence wild. Rude instruments are these, 
 Whence the first notes of nature's minstrelsy, 
 "Which she hath framed the minstrel's ear to 
 
 seize 
 And turn to music, — 'tis their melody 
 First breaks his soul's soft dream of ease 
 And with high thoughts haunteth his memory. 
 
A LEGEND. 83 
 
 III. 
 
 He loved the sounds of nature ; soon it grew 
 This love, into a passion, and he left 
 Kindred and home, a lonely wanderer through 
 His father-land; each spot, or rocky cleft, 
 Or grassy knoll, or hill, or stream he knew, 
 Where, in her happier hours nature had left 
 Some element of music. These he long 
 Dwelt with and made familiar, till he found 
 Quickened to life a faculty of song ' 
 Within his soul. Now, 'twas the tinkling 
 
 sound 
 Of some small rivulet gushing along 
 Prompted his first gay measure, and the bound 
 Of the bright waters imaged to him the 
 
 throng 
 
 Of menrj rarelkn, as they beat the ground. 
 
84 
 
 IT. 
 
 Now, in some twilight glen the sullen roar 
 Of cataract falling with continuous flow, 
 Monotonous and deep, amid the hoar 
 Majestic ruins scattered to and fro, 
 Remnants of battle in the days of yore 
 Amongst the elements, suggestive grow 
 Into a song — a war-cry for the brave 
 In freedom's hour of struggle : — Now his 
 
 heart, 
 "With the still life of nature tired, would 
 
 crave 
 Tor stronger sympathies, and would depart 
 Homewards once more : — so after toil will start 
 Back to his home the bee. He too would save 
 The treasure of his soul, would store a part 
 Bye in friends 1 hearts, a richer life to have. 
 
A LEGEND. 85 
 
 For 'tis man's home where smokes his own home- 
 hearth, — 
 Where to his soul he gathers round him those 
 "Whom most he loves, music's first source on 
 
 earth. 
 Here 'tis his heart taketh its mould and grows 
 Forth into sound ; here the first place of birth 
 Of every better feeling that he knows. 
 He dwelt amongst his fellows, and he found 
 How true it is, heart is the primal source 
 Whence floweth melody. Without it sound 
 Loseth all charm — 'tis but the sweet discourse 
 Of memory on tones lingering around 
 Heart-utterances, — in these the force 
 Of music dwells. Loved memories divorce, 
 And gone the soul to which her life was bound. 
 
86 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And thus the minstrel lived, — sometimes 
 
 away, 
 Eoaming through solitary places — now 
 Under the roof-tree dwelling, and his lay 
 Delighted many. And though Time the brow 
 Her hand had furrowed circled with no bay 
 To live after his death, there lacking skill 
 To fix invisible and flitting sound 
 In those old days, and give it shape to fill 
 The eye of future time, a legend still 
 Affirms his genius in some sort hath found 
 An immortality. Fragments renowned, 
 By mystic process of some magic will 
 Transposed, still live in those sweet birds which 
 
 trill, 
 And with their matins wake the echoes round. 
 
A LEGEND. 87 
 
 VII. 
 
 So that — as run the fingers o'er the notes 
 
 Of some familiar tune, even while the thoughts 
 
 Are far away, — or as the voice in hour 
 
 Of deepest reverie will hum the air 
 
 Of some sweet melody, — or as the power 
 
 Of habit moves mechanic's hand whene'er 
 
 His well-conned task he plies, — or like the 
 
 tongue, 
 Which with a thousand motions beats the air 
 Almost in one same instant, flying along 
 Thought's beaten tracks even with a speed 
 
 as rare 
 As lightning's flash, — then even so with song 
 Awake sweet birds the morn, without a care 
 For all tho intricate windings that belong, 
 And varied notes, to their loud matin-prayer. 
 
88 
 
 Till. 
 
 What then — thou mavis! is that ringing voice — 
 With music haunting all our glens and woods — 
 Eecord of genius that did once rejoice 
 To mould to airy form its tuneful moods? 
 And that blithe song familiar to my ears 
 At gentle spring's return, is it perchance, 
 Thou blackbird, a dim memory of years 
 Long passed away? And could we backward glance 
 So far, mayhap a voice that once brought tears 
 To gentle eyes, and with sweet pain of fears 
 And hopes mingled together, could entrance 
 Man's soul, leaves still an echo in that fierce 
 But musical breast, thou robin, and a cadence 
 Wild repeats, which time ever endears! 
 
POEMS. 89 
 
 A BAD SUBJECT. 
 
 Begirt with winter cloak of cloudy grey, 
 Old Time is busy fingering the hour, 
 The while his ringing voice from yon church-tower, 
 "With booming echoes "calls" another day. 
 Stately and solemn 'midst the murky air 
 Rears its pale form a columned porch in sight, 
 "Within whose shadows, where the ample flight 
 Of steps ascend, a youth hath sought his lair. 
 Roused by the sudden sound — his sleep is light, 
 "Who hungry sleeps and cold, thin-clad and bare — 
 A scared glance round ho throws: — some dreaded 
 
 sight 
 Of Argus-eyes haunteth him every where. 
 
90 POEMS. 
 
 No eye hath seen him, — and with conscious care 
 He " moves on," warned betimes, — for past the 
 night. 
 
 ii. 
 
 His form is spare, — his hue is pale, — his gait 
 Hath, as he prowls the streets, the stealthy pace 
 Of a young panther; and a scowl of hate, 
 Changing to abject fear, sits on his face. 
 'Tis the half- thinking, half-instinctive state 
 Of soul-rebellion that hath left its trace 
 Stamped on his features. Men their breath 
 
 abate, 
 Or turn their faces from him as they pass. 
 He begs, or he " infests " a crossing with worn 
 
 broom ; 
 Now poses himself — " an object," with a moan ; 
 Or tries — " the silent ghost," come from the tomb. 
 
A BAD SUBJECT. 91 
 
 These are but part his ways and means : alone 
 To-day, his spirit's gone: unlucky doom 
 Hath swept off all his comrades, one by one. 
 
 in. 
 
 Night comes at last ; beneath a lamp's pale ray 
 Yonder he cowers, by a bridge parapet, 
 "Wearied with bootless wandering all the day. 
 There hath he dropped himself — cold, hungry, wet, 
 His heart is broken? he gives in? — Not yet. 
 Bay fiercely turns, and keeps the foe at bay. 
 A "friend of youth," belated, passed that way, 
 Fresh from some council in high conclave met, — 
 Perchance the author of a great " Report," 
 "Which thousands shall to-morrow hail with cheers. 
 His happy thoughts o'erbalance far his fears:— 
 Ho halts, — and arms round waving, with a sort 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 Of a triumphant gesture, caught by the ears 
 That wretched youth, acting another part. \ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Both stand the pictures of distressed surprise — 
 Silent a moment : but this fatal blow- 
 Hath crushed the boy, at last: he raised his eyes 
 In blank despair, — now, 'tis no mimic show. 
 Melted the good man's heart that piteous sight 
 He queries, — casts, — decides : soon, fleet as 
 
 wind, 
 Storms through the silent streets a cab in flight. 
 Night's guardians stand amazed, they gaze, 
 
 and find 
 'Tis meteor-like-suspicious, — if they might 
 But look within that cab ! Soon they alight, — 
 And, might a lady, through a certain blind, 
 
A BAD SUBJECT. 93 
 
 But see her help-mate, at the dead of night, 
 
 Warily force, and put in rueful plight 
 
 Her plenished safe ! but see — for whom designed ! 
 
 Tranquil the lady slumbers, not so he, 
 Her conscience-stricken husband, by her side. 
 Hark to that noise ! — again ! — what can it be ? 
 She starts, — he harder breathes, — she wakens wide, 
 And draws the curtain : " Love ! it seems to me — 
 O heavens !" From bed he springs, and with one 
 
 stride 
 Is gone from sight : loud knocks assail the door ; 
 'Tis opened, and a vision meets the eye — 
 A vision of police, they seem a score ; 
 In midst of them a boy, with fthfl ih'bris 
 Of a cold supper in his hands — some pie 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 And used-up leg of mutton. " There were more 
 Villains in this," said one, — " I seen them fly. 
 He's (pointing to hoy) leapt the window on the 
 area floor." 
 
 VI. 
 
 A cheerless dwelling-place, it were, that pile, 
 
 "With its barred windows, wall, and massive gate, 
 
 To one who hath home, parents, friends — whom fate, 
 
 That's God, to life hath welcomed with the smile 
 
 Of these best gifts of life. But meditate 
 
 The converse of the picture; dwell a while 
 
 Upon the " homeless lot," — aye, worse than that — 
 
 A vile — a worthless home. That poor boy sate 
 
 Ne'er on caressing, gentle mother's knee ; 
 
 Ne'er lisped fond words of love ; his infant ear 
 
 From midnight brawl or drunken revelry 
 
A BAD SUBJECT. 95 
 
 Culled its first lessons, and with sights of fear, 
 Uncleanness, violence hath his infant eye 
 Familiar lived, as with his eye its tear. 
 
 YII. 
 
 I hear an early summons, loud and shrill, 
 Arouse the sleeper to laborious clay ; 
 Low murmuring voices soon the wide halls fill, 
 Stray laughter's ringing tones young hearts betray ; 
 Inspires the busy scene a cheerful will, — 
 Friendship the spell that charms it into play. 
 Precocious vice, and care's untimely trace — 
 Like to the clouds upon a summer sky, 
 Alien to nature on the youthful face — 
 From well-filled hours, and the light heart soon fly. 
 He too is there: but what so soon could chase 
 Tho fear — the scowl — the hatred from his eye ? 
 Nought now the panther keeps he but its grace, 
 And, 'mongst tho busy, busiest is he. 
 
96 POEMS. 
 
 ["* * * I desire to remind my reader of the perilous difficulty- 
 besieging all attempts to clothe in words the visionary scenes 
 derived from the world of dreams * * *." — T. De Quincy's 
 Autobiography.) 
 
 EOW-CHOW-WOW. 
 
 (EN SEANCE), 
 
 THROUGH THE " MEDIUM " OF 
 
 PROFESSOR PACE, P.C.I. E. 
 
 (Principal of Clairvoyant Institute of Education.) 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 A Wight, Esq., to Professor Pace. 
 
 Renowned Peofessoe : — 
 
 From remotest verge 
 Of the horizon, men behold thy face, 
 Pull-orbed, majestic, like a sun, emerge — 
 "With meteor hair surrounded as with rays — 
 On the astonished world. Loud o'er the surge 
 Of ocean darkness dashing on a shore 
 
FOW -CIIOW-WOW. 97 
 
 Of heads, as rocks stupid, and hard, and dense, 
 They hear one earnest voice, resistless, pour 
 Accents of wisdom forth ; — 'tis thine. Intense 
 Amazed conviction brings me to thy door, 
 A humble client, counsel to implore. 
 Profoundly conscious that thy lights dispense 
 With facts, — thou needst them not — I pass them 
 
 o'er. 
 Enough — a father signs — thine — evermore. 
 
 Professor Pace, to A. Wight, Esq. 
 
 E8TEEMED DlSCIPLE : — 
 
 Thy most precious note 
 Oileth with joy mine heart. This point of steel, 
 Tempered and keen, to thee and to the weal 
 Of the young soul thou lovest, I devote 
 With a serene delight. Yes! Thy appeal 
 The spirit answers. To the far remote 
 
 H 
 
98 POEMS. 
 
 Celestial Empire (thus I conquer space) 
 
 "Was I transported, yesterday, at eve, 
 
 In a transcendent vision, to receive 
 
 A meet response for thee. Compose thy face 
 
 To reverent expression, — and perceive 
 
 Through the dark tissue of these words I weave, 
 
 A youthful sage — not I — speaks to thy case, 
 
 Moved thereto by my spirit. — Andeew Pace. 
 
Fow-cnow-wow. 
 
 S C E N E— P EKIN. 
 
 CHAMBER OP CONSULTATION. 
 
 \An apartment hung round with silken cur- 
 tains, with a lamp suspended from its 
 centre, emitting a dim, mysterious light. 
 Fow-Chow-"Wow is seen reclining pen- 
 sively on a couch at the extremity. A 
 small round table, with a hand-bell on 
 it, stands before him. He starts, touches 
 the bell, and an attendant outside, draw- 
 ing aside a fold of curtain, ushers into 
 the Sage's presence several clients, male 
 and female, who seat themselves in pro- 
 found silence in a semi-circle before him. 
 Fow-Cnow-Wow takes a penetrating 
 yiize at his visitors, — his features relax 
 into an expression of mournful interest, 
 ii 1! 
 
100 
 
 and shading them with his hand, he sinks 
 hack upon his cushions, as if in a fit of 
 profound abstraction. 
 Fow- Chow- Wow, after a pause of several 
 minutes, during which he continues fixed 
 in the same posture, as in Trance, starts 
 up at last, restored to himself, and throws 
 his penetrating glance once more upon 
 the individuals seated before him.'] 
 
 I am impressed, — I soar into the heaven 
 Of spiritual contemplation, and I see 
 The secrets of man's soul — the mystery 
 Of intellectual life. That power is given 
 Unto the sage — to Fow-Chow-Wow — to me. 
 I triumph over space — pass all the seven 
 Eternal spheres, — pierce strata, metals, clay, 
 Down to earth's centre, — even now I count 
 
FOW-CHOW-WOW. 1 I 
 
 The golden veins of Alexander's Mount, 
 And sum the systems of the milky way; — 
 Now — I descend, diminish, quench the ray 
 Of my effulgent splendour in the fount, 
 Pool of the senses, — my most special day 
 Temper with darkness now, on your account. 
 
 [With a ivave of his hand and a gracious 
 inclination to the semi-circle before him.'] 
 
 I am in function, — but let not the weak 
 Senses of any falter, when they hear 
 My voice address them. Lady, I would speak — 
 Thou on the left extreme, — nay, banish fear, — 
 I'd speak to thee. Ha! know'st thou what I 
 
 seek ? 
 The golden link of passage from tho sphere 
 
102 POEMS. 
 
 Of iny own world to thine (pauses, shuts his eyes, 
 opens them) ; 
 
 'tis done: — my soul 
 Was gone, and is returned ; — it vaulted clear 
 The clay-built walls between — poised itself near 
 The mystic citadel, and seized the whole 
 Spirit-landscape in an instant. Yes — thy case 
 Is evident before me. But control, 
 Lady, thy fears, while I proceed to trace 
 The course I counsel thee. Thou hast, I guess — 
 
 Lady (interrupting). — Sage! a son. 
 
 F. C. W. Yes, and one moon, I know, 
 
 Measures, this day, his life. 
 
 Lady. O heavens ! 'tis true. 
 
 F. C. W. — Lady, I pri'thee, silence ! lest the glow 
 Of inspiration pass from me. I view 
 It slumbering in the cradle ; — there's the hue 
 
FOW-CHOW-WOW. 103 
 
 Of health upon the cheek ; — I hear the low 
 Sweet whisper of its breathing, ebb and flow, 
 As planet's motions regular, — and lo! 
 Hush ! (waving his hand) how the head is beauti- 
 ful — the form 
 Full, well-developed; yet, methinks I see, — 
 Ha ! here is something wrong. Take not alarm ! 
 I am impressed that thy recourse to me 
 Hath happily chanced both for thy child and 
 
 thee. 
 Yes! I descry a speck that bodeth harm. 
 
 Lady.— O my dear child ! good Sage ! do say — 
 F. C. W. — (interrupting) Be still, 
 
 Thou troublest my vision. True, I see 
 "Within that marble dome (pointing to vacancy) 
 
 built with such skill — 
 The sacred temple of the mystery, 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 Where burns the fire of life, and where the will 
 "Worketh obedience to the mind's decree — 
 The trace of movements that already seem 
 Beyond a true proportion, and too strong 
 For mental harmony. Yes ! I deem 
 It is a sign. — I read it to belong 
 To structural tendency : that speck ere loug 
 May grow, and form the channel for a stream 
 Of too impetuous feeling, working wrong, 
 Because unequal bias. 'Tis no dream : — 
 
 'Tis the sad truth, afar I can descry 
 
 A host of perils leaguering round the path 
 
 Of mind so moulded. I exhort thee, try 
 
 Whate'er of means a tender mother hath, 
 
 In the devotedness, the energy 
 
 Of her affection for her child : nor wrath, 
 
 Nor storm, as yet, of conflict is begun. 
 
FOW-CHOW-WOW. 105 
 
 Yet beautiful the morning dawns, — but one, 
 One little speck of cloud is there to give 
 This timely warning. Lady, thou hast done 
 Well to come now — for should that blossom live, 
 Now is thy time to watch, as to the sun 
 It opes its first young leaves. 
 
 Lady (in great anxiety). I shall run 
 
 This instant. Say ! was not it wrong to leave ? 
 
 O dear, good Sage ! do save it — I shall ne'er, 
 
 Again, one moment, trust to other arms 
 
 Than these its infancy. Surely my care — 
 
 A mother's care — 
 i 
 F. C. W. (impatiently). — Subdue these vain 
 
 alarms, 
 
 And listen wisely. Soon our spirits wear 
 
 Mysterious signs of difference. Some bare 
 
 Of characters, — deeply inscribed with charms 
 
106 POEMS. 
 
 Of curious sense and origin, others appear 
 From the Creator's hand. 'T would almost seem 
 He would, in one great master-work, review 
 All the complexity that marks the scheme 
 Of animal nature — in man's soul, the true 
 Image set forth of every change runs through 
 Life's multiform and many-coloured dream. 
 
 So that, as every species in the vast 
 Theatre of life is destined for its sphere 
 Of separate duties, and is made to appear 
 Each in its place peculiar, — so thou hast, 
 Also, O man ! thy part. Each spirit here, 
 In life's most excellent mould fashioned and cast, 
 Eills, too, a place allotted, — forms its part 
 Of human nature's scheme — carries the past 
 Forwards — marks a new point, whence to depart, 
 In the completing series, — till at last, 
 
fow- enow- wow. 107 
 
 The immediate purpose — portion of the plan 
 Designed hath been fulfilled. Hence 'tis we can 
 Account for all diversities, — " thou wast " 
 Being linked for ever with " thou art " in man. 
 
 Ah! hence the importance, terrible and true 
 Attached to every spirit, at its birth. 
 For, /tis an awful thought — my single worth 
 Tells on the worth of all, — and that he who 
 Hath formed one pestilent habit, hath sent forth 
 A universal wrong upon the earth, 
 Abiding till redeemed, atoned for, through 
 Struggle and suffering. Then, satisfied 
 Such is the fact, 'tis ours to regulate 
 Accordingly our conduct. Thus the state 
 Of every new-born spirit should be tried — 
 Its difference assigned, — to educate 
 
108 
 
 Not in harmoniously, — and so to guide 
 As to develop happily its fate. 
 
 Breaketh life's dawn with signs that testify 
 Some bent or disposition all too strong 
 For harmony ? be sure there doth belong 
 To it some function, given by the High 
 Decree of Heaven, — its lot is cast among 
 The sons of conflict, who are sent to free 
 And to restore the world, fighting the wrong 
 In their own "hearts. Hence were it well to be 
 Heedful with such a spirit, — to prepare 
 And fortify it duly, that it bear 
 The armour of God's soldier on the day 
 'Tis summoned to the battle, — that it may 
 Nor flinch nor falter, but far rather dare 
 Perish than God and mankind's cause betray. 
 
FOW-CHOW-WOW. 109 
 
 [Makes a concluding wave with his hand 
 to the Lady, and directs his eye to the 
 Gentleman leside her.] 
 
 [Note by Professor Pace to A. Wight, Esq. — The following 
 passage, the spirit informs me, is the one which bears 
 especially upon thy own case. — A. P.] 
 
 Now (Gentleman addressed motions to speak) — 
 
 stop ! hold ! let not one word of sound 
 Break on the silent, undulating shore 
 That girds my aural sense, the while I soar 
 Out of this body, up to the profound 
 Mysteries of spirit. 
 
 [Leans bade, shutting his eyes, and seems 
 to meditate a few moments, then re- 
 covers himself."] 
 
 Ha ! there comes before 
 
 Mine eye something 
 
 Qent. (interrupting). My son ? 
 
110 POEMS. 
 
 F. C. W. Hush ! sir, I've 
 
 found — 
 I must have silence, — I have travelled o'er — 
 Borne on the winged lightning of a thought — 
 The life-course of a spirit — tracked the maze 
 Of his childhood's sun-bright hours — counted his 
 
 days 
 Of innocent boyhood, and am present brought 
 Now with his heart's quick movements, as he plays 
 Even at this moment, in a lovely spot, 
 
 Midst flowers 
 
 Gent, (interrupting). The rascal ! tho' I told him 
 
 not ! 
 
 I go to punish. (G-entleman seizes his cap.) 
 
 JR C. W. Stop, he leaves the flowers, — 
 
 JVbw the delicious odour of a peach 
 Crosseth my sense. 
 
FO W-CHOW-WOW. Ill 
 
 Gent. {Getting red in the face). The villain! I 
 
 shall teach 
 
 F. C. W.— Be calm ! 
 
 Gent What ! and my peaches ! By the powers ! 
 
 [Moves to go.~\ 
 
 F. C. W. — I am impressed — thy own example 
 made — 
 Hast thou forgotten then? 
 
 [Gentleman leaves his seat, and dashing 
 
 the curtain aside, rushes out; Fow- 
 
 Chow-Wow, with a grim smile, looks 
 
 after him ; then, turning to his audience, 
 continues.'] 
 
 " Two of a trade." 
 {To another)— Thy turn is next. 
 
 Gent. Ah Sage ! I almost fear 
 
 My case is past all cure, — the time is o'er. 
 
112 POEMS. 
 
 F. C. W. — Enough. {Motions for silence, and 
 
 remains absorbed for a few moments 
 
 with Ms eyes shut,) 
 
 Time past ? Time o'er ? No — wipe that tear 
 
 And listen thou, Twang Keh — one (counts on Ms 
 
 fingers) two — the year 
 Thy son was born now makes him twenty-four, — 
 Yes, and two days. — Hush ! Hush ! (waving Ms 
 hand, and with excitement) 
 
 Methinks I hear 
 The tumult of a spirit ill at ease, 
 And fighting with itself. I hear a sound : 
 
 'Tis mental conflict — the confused rebound — 
 Rushing of words. What is it ? Poisonous lees 
 Of restless passions ? "What is this profound 
 Mystery at work? I follow not the bound 
 Of that impetuous stream, — whose eddies seize 
 
fow-chow-wow. 113 
 
 And whirl their wretched victim as they please. 
 
 Habit ! danger and blessing infinite 
 
 Of human nature, 'tis thy work — 'tis thou, — 
 
 Here hast thou left a ruin on the brow 
 
 Of reason — changed its pure and healthful light 
 
 To worse than darkness. Yet, even yet, despite 
 
 Thy terrible chains, whose numbing weight is now 
 
 Down-pressing him to the dust, I can descry 
 
 A ministering Angel, with her outspread wings: 
 
 She comes afar, from Heaven. 'Tis Hope I see, 
 Bound " to the rescue." By her side she brings 
 Her trusty handmaids. — Courage, Constancy, 
 And long-enduring Patience. Hark ! Twang Keh ! 
 Past the long track of years and sufferings, 
 I see thy son happy once more, and free. 
 
 Tes, I am impressed to say it — that the will 
 I 
 
114 POEMS. 
 
 Hath a vast power o'er habit, tho' a power 
 
 JSTot easily seen or weighed. Not in that hour 
 
 I would be virtuous — would desire to fill 
 
 My heart with high aspirings; — can I kill 
 
 The evil that opposes, or the tower 
 
 In which it holds intrenched, force or destroy ? 
 
 Time built the tower — time made the evil grow,- 
 
 Time to the rescue must bring up the slow 
 
 Array of moments. Vast defeats alloy 
 
 The hopes of victory. But, summoned, lo ! 
 
 Ever new hosts of moments still deploy 
 
 Their stern front of battle to the foe, 
 
 And, Will their Chief, onwards to victory go. 
 
 I am impressed that not one living soul 
 Of human kind hath visited this earth, 
 Even from the hour of man's momentous birth 
 Unto this moment, but hath had its dole 
 
FOW-CHO W-WOW. 115 
 
 Assigned it of a task — task that is worth 
 
 The living for, — or to assist to unroll 
 
 Our common consciousness, or else to bear 
 
 Part of its burthen onwards ; — for the past 
 
 Of consciousness remains, and each must share 
 
 The increase of good or evil, — in this vast 
 
 Movement somewhither enter, — each an heir — 
 
 A representative. Twang Keh, thou hast — 
 
 I flatter not — a something in thy air 
 
 Quite out of common. I'm impressed thou wast — 
 
 Twang Keh {rubbing his hands, delighted). — 
 
 O then thou seest it ? Say ! I have almost 
 Thought it sometimes. 
 
 F. C. W. My spirit, like a sea 
 
 Swept by a mighty wind, is whirled and tossed 
 In billows of astonishment. In thee — 
 That strange compound of atoms, which I see, 
 i2 
 
1 1 6 POEMS. 
 
 And gaze on, in thy person, I am lost 
 As in a chaos. Thou, Twang Keh, art one 
 "Whose story dateth from the first of time, 
 And in thy soul 'tis registered. Sublime, 
 Dark representative of things were done — 
 
 Twang Keh (interrupting), — yes ! 'tis true. 
 Tell me, dear sage — the Sun 
 Is my relation? — and, — 
 
 K. C. W. Fie ! 'twas a crime— 
 
 That of thy Father. Thou'rt a natural son. 
 Filial respect! 
 
 Twang Keh (puts his finger to his lips). — The 
 very whisper shun. 
 Tea, an inscrutable, an undefined 
 Eelation holds, within each human soul, 
 With all of good and evil which through mind 
 Hath passed since the creation, — and a role, 
 To each of different nature, is assigned, 
 By virtue of relation, and one goal 
 
FO W-CHOW-WOW. 117 
 
 Each must assist to reach. Twang Keh, thy son 
 Hath had allotted him his part, — tis one 
 Of urgent trial, — for 'tis his to right 
 Some wrong in nature, with some passion fight 
 In his own heart. Things have been done — 
 But no, — these things are past. Yes! I invite 
 Thee still to hope. After long years have run 
 Their miry, troubled course, — lo! in my sight — 
 [Here, an inopportune visitor, oy his loud 
 knocking at the Professor's door, brought 
 his Vision to a premature close."] 
 
118 POEMS. 
 
 FEAGMENTS. 
 
 1. 
 
 The tale runs thus : that in a glen, one day, 
 
 A spirit, conjured, rose 
 At the loud accents of that voice. 
 
 It came amidst the throes 
 
 Of incantation wild, and prayer — 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 Some wandering spirit, unconfined, 
 And lingering by, did hear 
 
FRAGMENTS. 1 1 9 
 
 The breathings of that lonely mind 
 Thrown to the listening air ; 
 
 And forthwith — 'twas a scene that well 
 
 Befitted such event — 
 The rushing sound of waters fell 
 
 Upon the wakeful, bent, 
 
 And listening ear, — dark clouds o'ercast the sky 
 
 And dismal gleamed the light, 
 And bleak and bare grey cliffs were towering high 
 
 Upon the awe-struck sight. 
 
 He stood : the words as yet were "on his tongue, 
 
 Excitement in his eye, 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 * # ♦ # # 
 
120 POEMS. 
 
 He paused — with agitations wild 
 His heart excited bound, 
 
 He had invoked, in fancy's rage, 
 Its echoes lingered round. 
 
 His consciousness, within he felt 
 Pass through a sudden change; 
 
 Himself no more — it seemed there dwelt 
 Within himself some strange 
 
 New presence, — yes, he knew, even then, 
 
 He was not there alone. 
 In that dread hour, within the glen, 
 
 From the dark spirit-world, one 
 
 Was present,— then unto his soul 
 Startled with wonder, came — 
 
FRAGMENTS. 1 2 1 
 
 And strange new feelings seized the whole 
 Of his excited frame. 
 
 'Twere as he felt — was made aware — 
 How, could he not explain 
 
 Even to himself— that while he there 
 Stood awe-struck, even then, 
 
 While yet his feet were rivet ted, 
 His tongue in act of speech 
 
 Suspended, as the sudden change 
 Did his whole spirit reach, 
 
 Another being kept his heart, 
 Reigned in his conscious soul, 
 
 O'er every motion, word, and thought 
 Held sleepless, fast control. 
 
122 POEMS. 
 
 Yea, 'twas an awful thought ! He bent 
 
 His knees, — he felt thoughts flow 
 And mingle with his own, yet whence, how sent, 
 
 Nor by what power did know. 
 
 He could distinguish, — yes, 'tis strange,- 
 The thoughts that thus did pour 
 
 Upon him from a foreign source ; 
 He felt the wondrous power 
 
 At work within his soul, nor lost 
 Sameness, that holds from birth. 
 
 "Was it, then, from the spiritual host 
 Some stranger strayed to earth? 
 
 He knelt, — he listened, — and he heard. 
 No sounds were on the air, — 
 
FRAGMENTS. 123 
 
 But voiceless words, and quick thoughts stirred 
 As 'twere upon his ear; 
 
 And in his soul — thou'dst think " possessed " 
 One who felt thing so strange, — 
 
 Another speak within his breast, 
 Pervading every change 
 
 Within his frame. Thus 'twas: he turned 
 
 His heart and soul within, 
 And conscious was that he was warned 
 
 Of a new nature's reign. 
 
124 POEMS. 
 
 Throw one glance 
 
 Upon the earth. Is that an altar smoke 
 
 Its cloud of incense lifting to the heavens, 
 
 "Which yonder meets the eye ? Alas ! bestow 
 
 A nearer glance! It riseth from a great 
 
 Embattled town, beleaguered by its foes, 
 
 And is the smoke of ruin — a great fire 
 
 Enkindled for destruction. How it spreads — 
 
 The fierce, devouring element — and bears 
 
 Upon its pestilent wings terror and death. 
 
 O what a sight for heaven and earth to witness ! 
 
 The din of arms is heard amidst the flames; 
 
 The maddening shouts of a rude soldiery 
 
 Mingle with shrieks of agony and pain. 
 
 How many fathers there, and husbands, wives, 
 
FRAGMENTS. 125 
 
 And helpless children have been rudely torn 
 At once from happiness, and hope, and life ! 
 How many cheerful homes made desolate — 
 How many joyful hearts for ever quenched 
 In grief of one sad hour of memory ! 
 Banish that sight of horror from my soul ! 
 It stirs the heart to wild, improper thoughts, 
 And turns to hate the beauty of the world. 
 
 Pass we to other scenes. Yonder, behold 
 A more congenial sight. Survey that pomp 
 And majesty of numbers ; 'tis the whole 
 Assembled manhood of a mighty people 
 Clad in the splendour of some holiday, 
 Or pious festival. See how they move 
 In concert most harmonious ; not a sound, 
 Or rufile of disorder, — and a spirit 
 Of gay hilarity accompanies them — 
 
126 POEMS. 
 
 The sound of music, spirit-stirring airs, 
 
 Adding new charms to the noble scene. 
 
 But what is this ? Surely iny senses mock 
 
 Me with a vain illusion ! This is not, 
 
 It cannot be, another scene of death, 
 
 Of bloody massacre? But so it is. 
 
 Arranged in masses, each to each opposed, 
 
 The trumpets sound, and suddenly the strife 
 
 Commences, heart-appalling, terrible. 
 
 See how they rush in conflict fierce together, — 
 
 By some strange madness, unaccountable 
 
 Hatred or rage inspirited, they tear 
 
 Each other limb from limb, — mangle and cut 
 
 "With the blood-thirstiness of beasts of prey, 
 
 Infuriate with hunger. Say, what means 
 
 These horrors 'mongst mankind? Is it effect 
 
 Of some wide-spread insanity — some stroke 
 
 Of blighting thunder that hath fallen from heaven 
 
 And scorched their intellect ? Or, hath some spirit, 
 
FRAGMENTS. 127 
 
 Demon of wickedness and crime, usurped 
 "What God despairing of, left to its fate ? 
 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF PROGRESS IN MAN. 
 
 'Tis man's peculiar nature still to strive 
 
 Ever for something better in the future. 
 
 There's nothing lives upon the earth but he 
 
 That hath this germ of progress. Count them all — 
 
 These teeming myriads of inhabitants 
 
 Peopling the world ; how most diverse and strange 
 
 In habitudes and powers ! how wonderful, 
 
 And apt and perfect in each several way 
 
 In which they lead their lives ! Yet, from the first 
 
 The same. Bears not a trace their history, 
 
 In all its course, of change, or of advance 
 
 To aught more perfect. But not so with man, 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 In whom the law of progress, and of change 
 
 Is found recorded in his whole career. 
 
 'Tis one continued march, his history 
 
 Towards development. First, rude and slow, 
 
 Savage and ignorant, with weary step 
 
 He climbs the steep ascent, where God hath placed 
 
 His triumph and reward, knowledge and art 
 
 And peaceful virtue, — tho' at last it comes — 
 
 The time of happier progress, of a growth 
 
 Fuller and richer with the noble fruits 
 
 Of lengthened years. This law upon his race 
 
 Impressed most strongly, of perpetual change, 
 
 To the more perfect nature ceaseth not 
 
 Its loud appeals. Heaven-born, and sacred law, 
 
 G-od's gift to man, that animates his soul 
 
 With love of excellence, and prompteth him 
 
 To lofty aspirations, wherefore thus 
 
 Doth it invade and agitate the heart 
 
 With endless longings that will not be stayed 
 
FRAGMENTS. 129 
 
 Nor satisfied, if not a promise given, 
 
 A blessed pledge of the Communion-hour, 
 
 By God imparted? Then, most real and true, 
 
 Holy and happy thought, — for Thou dost tell 
 
 Of a perfection that spreads out its hopes 
 
 Ever before us— of a happier life, 
 
 Where all these proud desires unutterable, 
 
 These fervent hopes — these never-ending strivings 
 
 "Will all be lost in the eternal joy 
 
 Of glorious fruition. But, alas! 
 
 Let not, O man, thy thoughts of happiness 
 
 And the perfection of another life 
 
 Obstruct thy present path — thy progress here. 
 
 For heaven itself is but another name 
 
 For that most sacred law which rules thy fate. 
 
 'Tis the continuation even of that 
 
 Begun on earth — the more developed links 
 
 Of one increasing and progressive state 
 
 Of life I nurtured into flame, 
 
130 POEMS. 
 
 There, 'mongst the lights of heaven, to burn for 
 
 ever. 
 Too true it is, if here there is no flame, 
 No heavenward progress — no successive steps 
 Towards that higher, more matured state, 
 "Which fits thee for the change — broken the chain 
 That joins the soul to heaven, — 'twixt it and thee 
 Lieth a yawning gulph, impassable. 
 The great security and pledge to man 
 Of bliss in heaven is here, on earth,' a state 
 The most approaching and resembling heaven. 
 
 THE JEWS. 
 
 Ear to east, 
 "Where stretch the desert plains of Arabie, 
 I see a people wandering. "Weary, slow 
 
FRAGMENTS. 131 
 
 Moves on the straggling column, and in midst 
 
 Of it is borne, with solemn, anxious care, 
 
 A precious burthen. There is mystery 
 
 Impenetrable round these wanderers, 
 
 And a religious glory. It is they 
 
 Who hold the link uniting to mankind 
 
 Him whom the record calls "Ancient of Days," 
 
 Jehovah. Holy and venerable race, 
 
 We watch your footsteps with a mingled sense 
 
 Of awful fear and hope ! For you it is 
 
 Through whom transmitted comes the charter-deed 
 
 Which gives precedence to humanity, 
 
 And a legitimate possession. You, 
 
 You first it was, had access by the sense 
 
 To the invisible God ; you first made known 
 
 His character and dealings, — gave to man 
 
 The precious revelation of " the fact." 
 
 k 2 
 
132 POEMS. 
 
 SOLILOQUY OF NAPOLEON" ON THE SHORES OF 
 ST. HELENA. 
 
 Ye heav'ns ! ye waters ! like my troubled soul, 
 Limitless, vast ! let me be joined to you — 
 Into your migbty space let me be mingled, 
 Like the Divinity which filleth you, 
 And before whom I stand and commune hold. 
 Te mighty empires, by that presence filled, 
 Eit for God's majesty, let me pass 
 Into your universal soul, and reign 
 
 God, in thy great solitude of reason, 
 Where there is none to join, nor interchange 
 Thought and opinion with thee. Thou art one, 
 Ruling o'er all alone, supreme. — Even now 
 Tour God is in me, — also mine — my God. 
 
 1 hear him, in a still, small voice, that speaks 
 To me and with me from the unfathomed depths 
 
SOLILOQUY OF NAPOLEON. 133 
 
 Of mine own nature, — where, I know not; yet 
 'Tis here, that voice, and whispereth in my heart. 
 Speak not of hope to me, — of consolation. 
 I, too, have reigned, — I, too, have been a king, 
 I spoke, and millions heard, — alone, — was felt 
 An omnipresence, making nations think, 
 Through all their multitudes, and speak and move, 
 Stirring their passions, making hope and fear, 
 Grief, joy, and triumph take alternate sway 
 Throughout all hearts. France ! my adopted country ! 
 My beautiful, my noble empire ! France ! 
 These waves do wash thy shores, these heavens cover 
 Thy wide-spread country. Of thy million hearts 
 How many now take thought of me — Napoleon ? 
 Yet I have thought for them, have toiled for them. 
 I loved them, and I love — Oh that ! — be still, 
 Rebellious heart ! — 'twas but a dream, a dream, 
 Even like this moment— yea here, even here, 
 Come hope, come genius of my country, of myself, 
 
134 POEMS. 
 
 Fate, everlasting fate, inexorable, 
 
 Am I not still Napoleon? Is not all 
 
 That made my name a spell to conjure with, 
 
 Still with me, — both my reason, and my heart ? 
 
 That reason which new-modelled continents 
 
 And levelled kingdoms, or upraised them, — 
 
 The heart that braved thy bridge, O Lodi ! 
 
 And with thy standard eagle, Trance, my Prance, 
 
 Eaised by these hands, did stem the torrent of war. 
 
 Yes, that Napoleon still, — no kingdom mine, 
 
 No regal pomp, nor great attendance — still, 
 
 "Without a court, a kingdom, still Napoleon. 
 
 I look upon thy vastness, O thou sea ! 
 
 And in the consciousness of my own thoughts 
 
 Feel what it is to reign, to have an empire. 
 
 Can listen to thy waves, that beat my feet 
 
 And beat the shores of France in one same moment, 
 
 And while the glorious vanished dream of empire 
 
 Crosseth my vision, — my armies and my victories, — 
 
SOLILOQUY OF NAPOLEON. 135 
 
 My devoted hearts, — my brave commanders, 
 
 Sustain my spirit. For a hope there is — 
 
 A renovating, soul-sustaining hope, 
 
 Now cheering my far vision. 'Tis not thee, 
 
 France, thou unforgotten glory! 
 
 Nor any throne of earth, mine eyes do seek, — 
 
 Not these poor eyes, with age and sickness dim, 
 
 That scarce can grasp the scant horizon round me — 
 
 But my soul's vision, limitless and clear, 
 
 My heart's full vision, now doth rest upon 
 
 An empire, fitted even for all its grasp. 
 
 'Tis on that country — dimly seen afar, 
 
 A great reality, — on which, at death, 
 
 My soul shall land, — on which, even now, my 
 
 thoughts 
 Are conversant. — There, is a world, a sphere, 
 For thought, for purpose, and for action vast, 
 As I do feel my soul, — there, will these powers, 
 Now, almost lulled to sleep, amidst decay, 
 
136 POEMS. 
 
 And pain, and deadening circumstance, revive, 
 And make me yet again, JSTapoleon, 
 To rule another Erance, more glorious still, 
 And more majestic, than e'er empire here. 
 I have a heart to rule; yea! I do feel 
 "Within me still the impulses of glory. 
 
 for that land ! It grows upon my sight. 
 See, like a speck, upon the vast abyss 
 
 It lies before ! Vanish ye doubts and fears ! 
 Yes ! mysteries and clouds and darkness, let 
 My strong and passionate gaze break through 
 your veil. 
 
 1 come, I come — I am prepared to pass, 
 To enter on the scene that there awaits me. 
 I hear the eternal roll of the deep waters. 
 'Tis as the voice of nations, marshalled nations, 
 On eve of a great battle, — and their chief, — 
 
 O then ! I yet shall reign ! Attendant spirits, 
 Eeceive my life, take me to that far country ! 
 
137 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA.* 
 
 First Fytte. 
 
 An ominous voice and terrible that day, 
 Sounded reveille to Britannia's sons, 
 
 Through the rough brazen throats of their own 
 guns, 
 In hostile hand left by a run-away. 
 
 The Turk had turned ingloriously his back, 
 Scared by the onset of the Muscovite ; 
 
 Danube gave earnest of far other fight — 
 Silistria foiled as stern a foe's attack. 
 
 * It will be eeon from the feeling that somewhat strongly 
 tinges the close of this poem, that it was composed shortly after 
 the event which it commemorates. 
 
138 POEMS. 
 
 Flushed from the bloodless conquest still advance 
 With eager haste, the myrmidons of war ; 
 
 Column on column, — Don Cossack, hussar, 
 
 Lead in the van, and shake the pennoned lance. 
 
 The word is passed that, like a battle cry, 
 Stirreth the serried squadrons as they go : 
 
 "To Balaklava!" There the instant blow 
 Falleth, which hurls the invader to the sea. 
 
 Onwards they come ; o'er Balaklava' s bay, 
 
 Soon the black eagle spreads his wings again. 
 
 No, — not so soon, — for Colin's Highlandmen 
 Stand, like a wall between, and bar the way. 
 
 " Halt in the van ! " what is't upon the sky 
 
 Looms there like bonnets, like the bayonet gleams ? 
 
THE BATTLE OP BALAKLAVA. 139 
 
 'Tis turbans. Tush ! 'tis mist and stray sun-beams, 
 Turbans and mists on near approaches fly. 
 
 " Forward my braves ! " Again the stormy tread 
 Of clanging hoofs, in thousands, shakes the 
 ground, 
 
 Vanished the mist, — the turbans ? — nowhere found — 
 Bonnets alone and bayonets a-head. 
 
 Silent and still they stand there, as the dead ; 
 
 But soon an ominous movement to the eyes, 
 With sullen sound that swells, then droops and dies, 
 
 Euns through the line, as near the horsemen 
 sped. 
 
 A volley and a cheer — 'twas thus his men 
 Bang forth an answer to their chiefs appeal ; 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 More than enough, — the horsemen quickly wheel, 
 And, brandishing their spears, charge back 
 again. 
 
 Second Fytte. 
 
 " Not yet, to-day, hath yon nimble Cossack 
 Or fleet hussar crossed the steel of his foes, 
 
 Longer I trow, they lament not the lack 
 
 Of men to meet, and of good sterling blows." 
 
 Oar General spoke, — in an instant 'tis done: 
 The bugle sounds, and the heavy brigade, 
 
 Mighty in charge, like the Lancaster gun, 
 
 Start off to see how these E-ussians are made. 
 
 " At them, my men," cried the brave Brigadier, 
 Pointing his sword at the foe in advance, 
 
THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA. 141 
 
 " Spare now your steeds ; when the Muscov is near, 
 Spur and strike home ! thank your stars for the 
 chance." 
 
 No voice they need — they are good men and true — 
 Steady and cool — as they move on parade: 
 
 On Royals! On Greys! Enniskilleners too, 
 
 With right, and might, and a well-tempered blade ! 
 
 England forgets not the strength of her prime, 
 Scotland remembers her doughty claymore, 
 
 " Erin-go-bragli ! " — this is not the first time 
 She'll scorn the odds — tho' 'twere one to a « 
 
 Meets them the Russ ? Hath he heart then to face 
 Foemen like these, hand to hand, in tho ii 
 
142 POEMS. 
 
 Hurrah ! they come — with their columns, apace — • 
 Sabre and lance — how they flash on the sight ! 
 
 As old Mars' self, in his thundering way, 
 Sweeps [down his foes with his chariot wheel, 
 
 So our dragoons, on that terrible day, 
 
 Cut through the Euss with the edge of their 
 steel. 
 
 Scattered and scared, they would flee had they room, 
 .Friends from behind will not let them away ; 
 
 So, formed once more, doubly strong, they would doom 
 The fiends in red for this panic to pay. 
 
 " Through them again, ye brave hearts ! " It is done ; 
 Nigh scafchless back to their host they return. 
 
THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA. 143 
 
 Britannia saw, — on her roll it is down; 
 Her sons shall read, and their young souls 
 shall burn. 
 
 Third Fytte. 
 
 Now a shuddering sound the earth comes creep- 
 ing o'er, 
 Like the faint echo of a lion's roar, 
 
 Hurt in affray ; 
 The long dark columns that lay coiled and still, 
 As snakes asleep, are moving on the hill, 
 
 To glide away. 
 
 The gathering battle-cloud that seemed to scowl, 
 Shooting a random bolt, with flash and growl, 
 
 Is past and gone. 
 And Birth, released from the sad spell of fear, 
 
144 POEMS. 
 
 Breaks into smiles, and through a brightening 
 tear 
 
 Welcomes the sun. 
 
 Ah ! other tear ereloog shall stain that brow ; 
 "With a great sorrow darkened, soon shalt thou 
 
 In ashes mourn ; 
 Before to-morrow's sun once more thou hail, 
 Up to his presence shall ascend thy wail 
 
 For sons thou'st borne. 
 
 The lion that hath slept too near the foe 
 And lost her cub, hath ne'er the heart to go, 
 
 Even if she could ; 
 Eecks'not th' o'erwhelming numbers that surround, — 
 Their rage — their strength — but staunches her heart's 
 wound 
 
 With her own blood. 
 
THE BATTLE OP BALAKLAVA. 145 
 
 They move at last — the Eussians leave the ground 
 And jealous pride wakes conscious of the sound 
 
 That shakes the plain; 
 High-wrought and stern, indomitable pride, 
 Touched in a point of honour, chafed, and cried 
 
 " Wipe out the stain." * 
 
 Goddess of war, bedeck thy temple-wall 
 
 With the rich trophy, spread the funeral pall — 
 
 Altar array ; 
 And let thy priests, in robe of purple dye, 
 Chant a "triomphe," and a funeral cry. 
 
 This is thy day ! 
 
 A day of sacrifice: — the chosen band 
 Of proud, brave hearts are ready when thy hand 
 The signal waves, 
 
 * Referring to the British guns left by the Turks in the hands 
 of the enemy. 
 
146 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 To appease the sullied glory of thy crown, 
 And victims loyal and willing lay them down — 
 Down in their graves. 
 
 With breath suspended — kindled heart and eye, 
 Chiefs, with their armies marshalled, standing by, 
 
 Are lookers on, — 
 While down the valley — on each hill around, 
 The G-enius of Destruction keeps the ground, 
 
 To hold his own. 
 
 But hark! Ere yet the sacrifice is o'er, — 
 While still the victims fall, the cannons roar, — 
 
 What means that cry? 
 That furious charge — those horsemen in advance 
 To the cannons' mouth? — while "To the rescue, 
 France!" 
 
 Mounts to the sky ? 
 
THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA. 147 
 
 Ah ! if there shine, in that bleak waste of war, 
 One bright oasis — solitary star 
 
 Of a dark night, — 
 'Tis where her terrors wake a purer flame 
 Than love of glory, and a deathless name 
 
 In stormy fight, — 
 
 Where generous sympathies are seen to glow 
 In the stern soldier's breast, who seeks his foe 
 
 To spare his friend, 
 And with the work his hand achieves of death, 
 Tribute to Mercy, with his heart, a wreath 
 
 Is fain to blend. 
 
 From billowy clouds of stifling smoke and flame, 
 As from the seven-times-heated furnace came 
 Hebrews 01 old, 
 
148 POEMS. 
 
 Emerge at last a glorious remnant saved 
 Of the hero-band, whose hearts so lightly* brayed 
 Force thousand-fold. 
 
 Count not how few — spent, shattered, one bj one — 
 Bring back the tale of bootless conquest won — 
 
 The battery stormed — 
 Columns dispersed — of Eussian cannoniers, 
 "Who massacred their own lest "one of theirs * 
 
 Should come unharmed. 
 
 Nobly they died — who died — and reaped renowB. 
 Better brave ship in battle thus go down, 
 
 Than sink at sea; 
 Better braye army perish in the breach, 
 Than want and pestilence inglorious stretch 
 
 Them low — to die. 
 
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