University of Virginia Library

SONNETS, Etc .

Anniversaries.

I.

Long years have fled, yet still the dawn is bright
That throws our memory back upon the past,
And shall be so, while yet our life shall last,
And we are faithful to the Lord of light.
So, when the shadows deepen into night,
The after-glow shall crimson all the west,
And we shall welcome, labour ended, rest,
Far-off, where dwell the pure ones, clothed in white.
United still in heart, and aim, and hope,
We journey by the wells of pleasant land,
And as we climb the hills that heavenward slope,
Taste of the peace that none may understand;
And, through life's varied path of change and chance,
We to the goal, with tranquil steps, advance.

Anniversaries.

II.

Wedding Sonnets.

I.

E. N. AND A. H.

Pure should the Temple be where Love shall dwell,
Founded in Truth and reared in Charity,
And through its windows, open to the sky,
Evening and morn their wondrous tale should tell;
And clearer light, by men invisible,
Should lead the pilgrims through the columned aisle,
Or bid them stay their course and rest awhile,
As He shall will, Who orders all things well.
Into that Temple ye, young souls and true,
Have found your way, with steps sedate and calm,
And Love shall guide you, making all things new,
Content to bear the cross, or wave the palm;
And should the years be many or be few,
Still through its vaults shall ring your joyful psalm.

Wedding Sonnets.

II.

A. N. AND E. H.

Yes, take your way upon the path of life,
And do your work while yet 'tis called to-day;
And, as ye start, shall friends devoutly pray
That God may bless the husband and the wife.
Linked are ye now for no ignoble strife,
Conflict with many a foe, without, within,
Tempters that oft a subtle victory win,
And mar the joy with which the dawn was rife:
Yet fear ye not, for they that be with you
Are more and mightier than the powers of ill;
And if ye walk with vision clear and true,
The peace of God your hearts and souls shall fill;
And when the evening falls and shadows lengthen,
New light and hope the heart of age shall strengthen.

Disappointment.

The dream is past, and waking bids thee weep,
Hope's rose-flushed dawn dies down to cold dull day,
And thou must calmly wait till twilight grey,
Ere thou canst fold thy weary hands to sleep.
Slumber and sorrow, these twin-sisters, keep
Their solemn course amid the paths of night;
Sorrow comes first; next slumber's footfall light;
Then they that sow in tears in joy shall reap.
The broken heart His love will not despise
Who, in His wisdom, orders all things well,
And He shall wipe the tears from mourners' eyes,
And break the glamour of the charmer's spell:
Love yet remains, and, teaching to forgive,
Shall add the harder lesson, how to live.

The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.

I.

October 22, A.D. 1685.

“Yes, let them speed; let war's dread bloodhounds rush,
Slipt from their leash, with bayings fierce and wild;
Let the sword smite the mother and the child;
And streams of blood from slaughtered myriads gush.
The time is come the hated seed to crush
Which buds and burgeons into falsehood's bloom,
When baleful forms that flourish in the gloom,
Must shrink at sight of Judgment's fiery flash.
So shall youth's sins be purged and washed away,
The lust, the pomp, the revel, and the joy;
These few quick strokes my fingers trace to-day
The tongues of priests and poets shall employ;
And far off ages of my praise shall sing,
As one who lived and died a Christian king.”

The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.

II.

A.D. 1793.

Oh, fool and blind! Behold, behind the veil
The issues of that moment big with wrong;
Hear dread Erinnys chant her dolorous song,
And children's children woes unnumbered wail.
Nor blameless life, nor beauty's charms avail:
Weighed in the balance, all are wanting found,
And the vast fabric totters to the ground,
And all its glory is a thrice-told tale.
Lo! here the end of all thy vaunting pride!
The good seed crushed, the tares have grown apace;
The gates of Hell and Death are opened wide;
Wrath is gone forth, and past the hour of grace:
Time's fiery baptism ends what thus begins,
And France still bears the curse of that day's sins.

Ritualism.

I.

COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION.

Thick clouds from censers waved by fair-haired boys,
The two tall candles lit on either hand,
Prayers in a speech that none can understand,
Bright robes, rich tones, that thrill the sense with joys,
Teaching that neither heart nor brain employs:—
Is it for these we leave our fathers' ways,
Turn to poor pageants of the bygone days,
As though the man should play with childhood's toys?
Shall we not rise and ask for curb of law
To check what else will grow without restraint?
Shall not her voice the stubborn wills o'erawe
That lead the sheep astray and spread the taint?
Surely in vain our martyrs strove and bled,
If forms of errors old their dark spells round us spread.

Ritualism.

II.

COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENCE.

Nay, judge not rashly. To their Master they
Or stand or fall, as He discerns aright:
It were ill done to crush with arm of might
Whom He may welcome in His own great day.
Weak souls there are, for whom the Truth's pure ray,
Cloudless and clear, o'ertasks the feebler sight,
Whose spirit craves the softer, broken light
Of rainbow hues that in the sunset play.
Perchance these rites may bring to those who dwell
In the dull life of city's crowded street,
A vision of the glories that excel,
A foretaste of Heaven's harmonies complete.
Be not too quick the strife of forms to end,
Lest thou, against thy will, Christ's little ones offend.

Politics in 1867.

I.

NEMESIS.

Not vain the word: the wheel has come full round,
And Time the Avenger makes his work complete.
Disordered, quailing, see thy foes retreat
From each high fortress of their vantage-ground.
They look for guidance, and no guide is found;
Divided counsels, terror, doubt, mistrust,
The wisdom of the serpent eating dust,—
These fill each trumpet with uncertain sound;
But thou, true leader, patient, calm, and brave,
Still keep'st in check the falsehood of extremes,
Thou wilt not rouse old discords from their grave
To cloud the East, where now the day-star gleams.
Oh, let thy presence still be strong to save,
And wake our Senate from bewildering dreams.

Politics in 1867.

II.

DRIFTING.

On, let the good ship reel before the breeze,
Borne on the shifting tides of chance and change;
On to untravelled lands and islands strange,
Atlantis old, or new Hesperides;
On, though no pilot's eye the issue sees,
Charts thrown aside, and helm at random turned,
The crew bewildered, wiser counsel spurned,
And dark clouds gathering o'er the foam-flecked seas.
What matter, so with laugh and jest and jeer
The ship speeds on, nor slackens on her way,
And shouts of many voices shut out fear,
And late-grasped power lives out its little day?
Come good, come ill, we sing, and pipe, and dance,
Slaves of each passing wind of circumstance.

America.

I.

NEW ENGLAND MEMORIES.

Four names of honour mark a week of light,—
Names of high place on history's noblest scroll,—
And through the ages as they onward roll
Shall shine like stars in azure vault of night:
First, he who told the tale of tyrant might
That urged the quest of sad Evangeline;
The sage who fearless wrought in Truth's deep mine,
Seeking the Law that orders all things right;
The poet-friend whose clarion voice was heard,
A call to freedom for the toiling slave;
And he whose story many a heart has stirred
To keep the track of statesmen wise and brave;
We may not meet again, yet still the past
For me shall live as long as life shall last.

America.

II.

THE TWO CHURCHES.

Church of the West, in whom we gladly trace
Our Herbert's glowing hope at last fulfilled,
And note, in passion calmed and discord stilled,
The varied likeness of a sister's face;
For thee there stretches far and wide through space
The field of souls that are for harvest white,
And 'tis thy task to call the sons of light
To work as reapers through their Master's grace.
One faith is ours to keep from age to age;
But ye in that old path have forward gone,
And holding still Truth's priceless heritage,
Have cleared the way of many a stumbling-stone:
Ye learned from us our wisdom old and new;
We in our turn at last do well to learn from you.

America.

III.

NIAGARA.

Great ocean-river, draining half a world,
Now rushing widely from the outspread lake,
Where on the rocks thy waters brightly break;
Then with one leap in mighty cataract hurled,
A wall of waters, while around are whirled
The seething clouds of vapours from the deep;
And, arching o'er the dim and perilous steep,
Hope's rainbow hues are, like a flag, unfurled.
Shows our life thus to those Diviner Eyes
That watch its course from far æonian past,
Whence the Time-river fountains take their rise,
And onward rush to darkness dim and vast?
Too dread were that abyss for mortal sight,
Yet resteth also there Hope's iris light.

The Franco-German War.

Cologne, 1870.

Swift flow the legions round each vine-clad hill;
Fast fall the sharp strokes of the scourge of God;
And we stand by while yet the Avenger's rod
Moves on, its work—its strange work—to fulfil,
That so, at last, the doers of the ill
May reap the harvest they themselves have sown,
And rage and fear, wild counsels, tottering throne,
Chastise the pride of man's o'ervaulting will.
On, ye whose hands are strong for Truth and Right;
On, till the task is done ye had not planned,
And through the storm-cloud breaks the dawn of light;
Go where God guides, teach nations how to live,
Be strong to punish, stronger to forgive.

The Pantheist's Confession of Faith.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF GIORDANO BRUNO.

Beginning, Cause, the Sempiternal One,
Whence being, life, and motion all depend,
And through length, breadth, and farthest deep extend,
All that in heaven, and earth, and hell is known;
Through sense, and mind, and soul to me is shown
What reckoning, act, and measure doth transcend,
That Might, and Mass, and Number, which doth tend
Beyond all height, or depth, or midway zone;
Nor error blind, scant time, nor fortune ill,
Base envy, evil rage, or zeal unjust,
Wild heart, rash spirit, wanderings of desires,
Shall e'er prevail to cloud or thought or will,
Nor o'er mine eyes cast veil of dim distrust,
Nor hide the Sun to which my soul aspires.

A Parallel.

Not thine the exile's weary lot to tread
The stairs of others, as with bleeding feet,
Nor yet in lonely wanderings still to eat
The doled-out bitter gifts of others' bread:
Thine rather is it to have nobly led
When others halted or would fain retreat,
To steer the State, though fierce the storm-winds beat,
On to the wished-for haven, sails full spread.
Unlike in outward fortunes, yet we trace
In thee and in our Dante many a line
Of inward likeness, sharing each the grace
Aye given to those that seek Truth's inmost shrine,
The will that stands four-square to Fortune's blows,
Thoughts that age ripens, hope that wider grows.

Spring Memories.

A sun-bright season in a sea-girt isle,
Spring's burst of beauty flushing o'er the earth;
At morn, the cuckoo, harbinger of mirth,
At eve the bird whose songs her grief beguile:
Here let us cease from care, and rest awhile,
Look back on vanished years that lie behind,
And, as we gaze, new hopes and courage find,
And on the things that vexed us calmly smile.
So though the years are dim that lie before,
We shall not doubt the Father's will to bless;
Much though we hoped, yet He has given us more,
That we His love and wisdom may confess,
And so pass on, though song and vision fail,
To that far-off Unknown behind the veil.