The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
 |
| I. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
|
|
|
|
THE WANDERER. |
| II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
276
THE WANDERER.
In a lonely valley yonder,
Where the Rhenish wine-tree grows,
I sat me down to rest and ponder
On the mystery of woes:
For I was travel-stained and weary,
Sore of foot and faint of limb,
Helpless, hungry, heart-sick, dreary,
My eyes with want and watching dim.
Where the Rhenish wine-tree grows,
I sat me down to rest and ponder
On the mystery of woes:
For I was travel-stained and weary,
Sore of foot and faint of limb,
Helpless, hungry, heart-sick, dreary,
My eyes with want and watching dim.
It was a sunny Sabbath morning,
In the briefest days of Spring—
Infant buds the boughs adorning,
Larks upon the skyward wing:
Flowers, in fragrant childhood blowing,
Drank the golden light of day;
Streams, in clearer gladness flowing,
Found a sweeter, greener way.
In the briefest days of Spring—
Infant buds the boughs adorning,
Larks upon the skyward wing:
Flowers, in fragrant childhood blowing,
Drank the golden light of day;
Streams, in clearer gladness flowing,
Found a sweeter, greener way.
The peasant poor to worship wending,—
Wrinkled dame and ruddy lass,
With a kind obeisance bending,
Greet the pilgrim as they pass:—
Welcome, though their homely graces,
Buoyant footstep, aspect free,
Stranger forms and stranger faces
Are not those he yearns to see.
Wrinkled dame and ruddy lass,
With a kind obeisance bending,
Greet the pilgrim as they pass:—
277
Buoyant footstep, aspect free,
Stranger forms and stranger faces
Are not those he yearns to see.
A simple Sabbath-chime was ringing
From a grey and leafy tower,—
A sweet and solemn music flinging
Over vineyard, vale, and bower;
The very woods and hills seemed listening,
In a holy calm profound,
And the lingering dew-drops, glistening,
Seemed to tremble at the sound.
From a grey and leafy tower,—
A sweet and solemn music flinging
Over vineyard, vale, and bower;
The very woods and hills seemed listening,
In a holy calm profound,
And the lingering dew-drops, glistening,
Seemed to tremble at the sound.
Present sorrow,—baleful shadow!
Slid from off my languid mind,
Like a cloud-shade from a meadow,
Leaving greener spots behind.
Recollections, sad or splendid,
Came with softened smiles and tears,
And the future, hope-attended,
Beckoned unto brighter spheres.
Slid from off my languid mind,
Like a cloud-shade from a meadow,
Leaving greener spots behind.
Recollections, sad or splendid,
Came with softened smiles and tears,
And the future, hope-attended,
Beckoned unto brighter spheres.
England's temples of devotion,
Unassuming, old, and dim,
Where the deepest heart-emotion
Answers to the holy hymn;
In whose grave-yards, greened with ages,
Eyes the tears of memory shed,
Looking on those solemn pages—
Stony records of the dead.
Unassuming, old, and dim,
Where the deepest heart-emotion
Answers to the holy hymn;
In whose grave-yards, greened with ages,
Eyes the tears of memory shed,
Looking on those solemn pages—
Stony records of the dead.
278
I saw a sleeping babe receiving
Baptismal drops upon its face,
A blushing bride the portal leaving
With a proud and modest grace:
I saw a dark assembly gather
Round an open grave and deep,
And a wifeless, childless father
Stricken till he could not weep.
Baptismal drops upon its face,
A blushing bride the portal leaving
With a proud and modest grace:
I saw a dark assembly gather
Round an open grave and deep,
And a wifeless, childless father
Stricken till he could not weep.
Then my youth rose up before me,
Fresh as in its newest hour,
When that deeper life came o'er me,
Love's pure passion and its power;
When a crowd of different feelings
In my growing heart took birth,
Different thoughts, whose sweet revealings
Uttered more of heaven than earth.
Fresh as in its newest hour,
When that deeper life came o'er me,
Love's pure passion and its power;
When a crowd of different feelings
In my growing heart took birth,
Different thoughts, whose sweet revealings
Uttered more of heaven than earth.
Memory opened out her treasures,
Which had lain unheeded long,—
Trials, triumphs, pains, and pleasures,
A mingled and familiar throng:
Scenes, where I had wandered lonely,
In my boyhood's dreamy days,
When the shapes of Nature only
Soothed and satisfied my gaze.
Which had lain unheeded long,—
Trials, triumphs, pains, and pleasures,
A mingled and familiar throng:
Scenes, where I had wandered lonely,
In my boyhood's dreamy days,
When the shapes of Nature only
Soothed and satisfied my gaze.
Wood haunts, where I lay and lingered,
At my stolen, but happy ease,
While the west wind, frolic-fingered,
Stirred the umbrage of my trees;
While the fern and fox-glove nigh me
Whispered things, too seldom heard;
And brook and bee that flitted by me
Held light concert with the bird.
At my stolen, but happy ease,
While the west wind, frolic-fingered,
Stirred the umbrage of my trees;
279
Whispered things, too seldom heard;
And brook and bee that flitted by me
Held light concert with the bird.
England's soft and slumbering valleys,
With happy homesteads scattered o'er,
Where the honeysuckle dallies
With the rose, about the door:
England's ancient halls and granges,
In some woodland nestled low,
Through whose shades the river ranges
With a dark and devious flow.
With happy homesteads scattered o'er,
Where the honeysuckle dallies
With the rose, about the door:
England's ancient halls and granges,
In some woodland nestled low,
Through whose shades the river ranges
With a dark and devious flow.
Then I saw new things, and fairer,
In the stars, clouds, fields, and flowers;
Then I heard new sounds, and rarer,
In the ever-voiceful bowers:
Then with stronger life came laden
Every breeze that wandered wide,
Because one loved, one loving maiden,
Smiled, looked, listened, by my side.
In the stars, clouds, fields, and flowers;
Then I heard new sounds, and rarer,
In the ever-voiceful bowers:
Then with stronger life came laden
Every breeze that wandered wide,
Because one loved, one loving maiden,
Smiled, looked, listened, by my side.
Every spot of blissful meeting
Rose before my inner sight;
Every fond and joyous greeting
Thrilled me with an old delight.
Precious hours of speedy pinion—
Ye with purest passion rife,
Alas! to feel your dear dominion
Once only in the lapse of life!
Rose before my inner sight;
Every fond and joyous greeting
Thrilled me with an old delight.
Precious hours of speedy pinion—
Ye with purest passion rife,
Alas! to feel your dear dominion
Once only in the lapse of life!
280
Still that Sabbath-chime was ringing,
Where the Rhenish wine-tree grows,
Sterner recollections bringing,
Tinctured with a thousand woes:—
Poverty's resistless terrors,
Careless words, and careless deeds,
Rash resolves, and thoughtless errors,
For which the wiser spirit bleeds.
Where the Rhenish wine-tree grows,
Sterner recollections bringing,
Tinctured with a thousand woes:—
Poverty's resistless terrors,
Careless words, and careless deeds,
Rash resolves, and thoughtless errors,
For which the wiser spirit bleeds.
Absent voices, absent faces,
Which I longed to hear and see;
Hearts, which yearned for my embraces,
And beat with faithful pulse for me.
Thoughts like these, with strong appealings,
Tinged with hopes, and touched with fears,
Only asked for human feelings,
And I answered with my tears.
Which I longed to hear and see;
Hearts, which yearned for my embraces,
And beat with faithful pulse for me.
Thoughts like these, with strong appealings,
Tinged with hopes, and touched with fears,
Only asked for human feelings,
And I answered with my tears.
Thus that Sabbath-chime, though simple,
Stirred me with its hallowed sound,
As a still lake's smallest dimple
Moves the whole bright surface round.
That sweet music, and the brightness
Of the young and buoyant day,
Gave to my soul new strength, new lightness,
As I journeyed on my way.
Stirred me with its hallowed sound,
As a still lake's smallest dimple
Moves the whole bright surface round.
That sweet music, and the brightness
Of the young and buoyant day,
Gave to my soul new strength, new lightness,
As I journeyed on my way.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |