 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
141
THE FELON'S GRAVE.
A FRAGMENT.
It was a Felon's Grave—the spot seemed drear,
And something stern and chilling lowered around—
The dark and sombre Presence lingered near,
A troubling Shadow lengthened o'er the ground.
And something stern and chilling lowered around—
The dark and sombre Presence lingered near,
A troubling Shadow lengthened o'er the ground.
There reigned the mysteries of a withering awe,
There ruled the horrors of a sickening fear—
These warned the heedless wanderer to withdraw,—
These checked the pious offering of a tear!
There ruled the horrors of a sickening fear—
These warned the heedless wanderer to withdraw,—
These checked the pious offering of a tear!
There spread no pensive peace—whereunto clings
The Heart so oft beneath Life's changeful Skies—
No solemn sense of high and holy things,
No atmosphere of sweet Humanities!
The Heart so oft beneath Life's changeful Skies—
No solemn sense of high and holy things,
No atmosphere of sweet Humanities!
142
And yet although the spot seemed drear and wild,
Some reconciling features marked the scene,
Where Earth embosomed her frail, erring Child,
And Nature shed her influences serene.
Some reconciling features marked the scene,
Where Earth embosomed her frail, erring Child,
And Nature shed her influences serene.
That grave was roofed by the eternal Sky,
'Twas open to the Sun and to the Shower—
'Tis true there rose no deck'd memorials nigh,
There sprung up from the sod no tribute-flower.
'Twas open to the Sun and to the Shower—
'Tis true there rose no deck'd memorials nigh,
There sprung up from the sod no tribute-flower.
That Grave was roofed by the resplendent Sky!
And Nature round displayed her pride and power—
Creation's Grand Cathedral wide and high
Rose o'er it—glorious through each changeful hour.
And Nature round displayed her pride and power—
Creation's Grand Cathedral wide and high
Rose o'er it—glorious through each changeful hour.
That Grand Cathedral not by frail hands built,
Whose chrystal walls have yet known no decay,
Whose splendid Dome with living Suns is gilt,
Whose lamp's the everlasting Torch of Day.
Whose chrystal walls have yet known no decay,
Whose splendid Dome with living Suns is gilt,
Whose lamp's the everlasting Torch of Day.
143
Whose never-closing Gates lift up their heads,
That through the King of Glory's Pomp may pass—
Which o'er the Universe still streams and spreads
The Eternal Pomp, which all things share and glass!
That through the King of Glory's Pomp may pass—
Which o'er the Universe still streams and spreads
The Eternal Pomp, which all things share and glass!
Yes! in that Grand Cathedral 'twas enshrined,
The grave of one so branded, and unblessed!
The admired—the abhorred—the good and guilty find
Alike their last long Home in Earth's deep breast!
The grave of one so branded, and unblessed!
The admired—the abhorred—the good and guilty find
Alike their last long Home in Earth's deep breast!
Nature repulseth not with disrespect
The meanest or the vilest of mankind;
Maternal Earth may spurn not nor reject
The veriest outcast to her arms consigned.
The meanest or the vilest of mankind;
Maternal Earth may spurn not nor reject
The veriest outcast to her arms consigned.
The World without may cast no shade of blame
On mortal Man—the Living or the Dead—
Passive, Creation's universal frame,
Whate'er the curse piled on the Culprit's head!
On mortal Man—the Living or the Dead—
Passive, Creation's universal frame,
Whate'er the curse piled on the Culprit's head!
144
The same reception waits the worst and best,
Though widely different were the paths they trod;
Earth frowns not on her helpless clay-cold Guest,
But leaves him to his Judge and to his God!
Though widely different were the paths they trod;
Earth frowns not on her helpless clay-cold Guest,
But leaves him to his Judge and to his God!
'Twere well if Man himself thus acted too!
All here is but perplexity and doubt!—
He boasts he reads his brother's history through,
And knows as little as that World without!
All here is but perplexity and doubt!—
He boasts he reads his brother's history through,
And knows as little as that World without!
The Actions and the Conduct he may scan,
But ne'er their springs detect—their cause assign.
Be strict, be rigorous to thyself—Oh! Man!
But leave thy brother to his Judge and—thine!
But ne'er their springs detect—their cause assign.
Be strict, be rigorous to thyself—Oh! Man!
But leave thy brother to his Judge and—thine!
Canst thou his trials and temptations know,
And pierce the inmost counsels of his breast?
Can Skill or Science the veiled motives show,
Canst thou adjust the scales—apply the test?
And pierce the inmost counsels of his breast?
Can Skill or Science the veiled motives show,
Canst thou adjust the scales—apply the test?
145
And if by Human laws condemned to pay
The forfeit of his crime or of his fault,
Should'st thou uncharitably then essay
To magnify that fault—that crime to exalt?
The forfeit of his crime or of his fault,
Should'st thou uncharitably then essay
To magnify that fault—that crime to exalt?
No, no! let Human pity sorrowing draw
The curtain then o'er criminal and crime—
No longer subject unto Earthly law!
No longer brought before the bar of Time!
The curtain then o'er criminal and crime—
No longer subject unto Earthly law!
No longer brought before the bar of Time!
To dread Eternity's tribunal borne,
There shall the Child of Earth his doom receive—
And all Earth's children at the appointed morn
Must there appear—where shall be no reprieve!
There shall the Child of Earth his doom receive—
And all Earth's children at the appointed morn
Must there appear—where shall be no reprieve!
Then doth not meek indulgence best become
Poor erring mortals towards their fellow men?
And most when frowns between the sacred tomb—
Oh! surely most must it become them then!
Poor erring mortals towards their fellow men?
And most when frowns between the sacred tomb—
Oh! surely most must it become them then!
146
This rude, lorn Grave—which for its tenant's sake
I shunned at first with shudd'rings scarce suppress'd,
Not in itself was't such as should awake
Dismay and horror in the stranger's breast!
I shunned at first with shudd'rings scarce suppress'd,
Not in itself was't such as should awake
Dismay and horror in the stranger's breast!
From mine own knowledge of the truth there sprung
A gloomy feeling and a chilling awe—
A heavy cloud around its precincts hung,
But nothing there to appal or shock I saw.
A gloomy feeling and a chilling awe—
A heavy cloud around its precincts hung,
But nothing there to appal or shock I saw.
The dreariment that darkly seemed to brood
Around that spot from mine own thoughts arose,
And took its colour from mine own sad mood,
There was but quiet silence, and repose!
Around that spot from mine own thoughts arose,
And took its colour from mine own sad mood,
There was but quiet silence, and repose!
And when with calmer gaze I looked around,
New feelings soon those feelings chased away;
A voice spoke from the green and dewy ground,
And bade me yet a little while delay.
New feelings soon those feelings chased away;
A voice spoke from the green and dewy ground,
And bade me yet a little while delay.
147
Nature's immortal finger there did trace
Deep solemn truths to touch and teach the heart;
I felt her glorious Presence in the place,
And stood in silence and in thought apart—
Deep solemn truths to touch and teach the heart;
I felt her glorious Presence in the place,
And stood in silence and in thought apart—
And stood in silence and in thought, and felt
How holy Charity indeed is blest—
'Tis well to feel the softened Spirit melt,
And gently bow to Mercy's mild behest.
How holy Charity indeed is blest—
'Tis well to feel the softened Spirit melt,
And gently bow to Mercy's mild behest.
The sickening fear with all its horrors passed,
The withering awe with all its mysteries fled,
No more I shrunk, bewildered and aghast,
From that lone Presence-chamber of the Dead!
The withering awe with all its mysteries fled,
No more I shrunk, bewildered and aghast,
From that lone Presence-chamber of the Dead!
Ev'n, as I said before, the Grave was shrined
In such a lofty Temple and august,
It could not fail at last to impress the mind
With deep and hallowed feelings—clear and just.
In such a lofty Temple and august,
It could not fail at last to impress the mind
With deep and hallowed feelings—clear and just.
148
'Twas fair surrounded like some honoured Grave
By many lovely and outshining things;
There, roll'd uncheck'd the Sunset's golden wave—
There, fluttered Morn's empearled and rainbowed wings.
By many lovely and outshining things;
There, roll'd uncheck'd the Sunset's golden wave—
There, fluttered Morn's empearled and rainbowed wings.
'Twas visited like Innocency's Tomb,
By tenderest Ambassage of breeze and star—
'Twas watched thro' dreamy Midnight's purple gloom
By the pale Moon—borne high on rolling car.
By tenderest Ambassage of breeze and star—
'Twas watched thro' dreamy Midnight's purple gloom
By the pale Moon—borne high on rolling car.
Yea! through the lonely Night's most lonely hours
(When nought the scenery's solemn show can mar)
'Twas watched—as though by deep mysterious powers—
By Moonlight pale—and Passion paler far!
(When nought the scenery's solemn show can mar)
'Twas watched—as though by deep mysterious powers—
By Moonlight pale—and Passion paler far!
For there, one, sorrowing and deploring knelt,
Who loved the lost one with a perfect love,
No transient sentiment it was she felt—
In that alone could she live—breathe—and move.
Who loved the lost one with a perfect love,
No transient sentiment it was she felt—
In that alone could she live—breathe—and move.
149
Daughter of Sorrows! mourner tried and true—
Thy heavy anguish is as still, as deep,
Though thy chang'd cheek presents Death's shadowy hue,
Thou dost not murmur, and thou canst not weep.
Thy heavy anguish is as still, as deep,
Though thy chang'd cheek presents Death's shadowy hue,
Thou dost not murmur, and thou canst not weep.
Thine is no pomp of woe—no laboured grief—
Oh, no! 'tis Nature's own—and Nature's all—
It seeks no sympathy—asks no relief—
Content to abide by its own crushing thrall!
Oh, no! 'tis Nature's own—and Nature's all—
It seeks no sympathy—asks no relief—
Content to abide by its own crushing thrall!
'Tis Nature's all, in sooth—and Nature's own—
Even like this solemn Sanctuary of death,
Where rose no carven monumental stone,
Where hung no chiselled scroll—no sculptured wreath.
Even like this solemn Sanctuary of death,
Where rose no carven monumental stone,
Where hung no chiselled scroll—no sculptured wreath.
Her Grief is even as her Love had been,
Deep as her Life—and single as her Soul!—
Silent as 'tis profound—and calm as keen—
It is her being's all—her feelings whole!
Deep as her Life—and single as her Soul!—
Silent as 'tis profound—and calm as keen—
It is her being's all—her feelings whole!
150
Sorrows there are, so buried in the breast,
They prompt no sigh, and they permit no tear;
The Soul by deadening ills is stunned to rest,
There dwells no wild suspense, no watchful fear!
They prompt no sigh, and they permit no tear;
The Soul by deadening ills is stunned to rest,
There dwells no wild suspense, no watchful fear!
They wrestle briefly with the inward storm,
Whose anguish thus all words are vain to speak—
Misery then earthwards weighs the Heavenliest form,
And plucks the young rose from the loveliest cheek.
Whose anguish thus all words are vain to speak—
Misery then earthwards weighs the Heavenliest form,
And plucks the young rose from the loveliest cheek.
They wrestle briefly with the inward storm,
Whose Souls must thus, with speechless suff'ring ache—
For ever gnawed by Grief's undying worm—
The Heart's core crushed—the Heart shall quickly break!
Whose Souls must thus, with speechless suff'ring ache—
For ever gnawed by Grief's undying worm—
The Heart's core crushed—the Heart shall quickly break!
It was a Felon's grave—what did she there?—
That gentle, stricken, uncomplaining thing?
How could his death cause her young heart's despair,
And blight her smiling Season's opening Spring?
That gentle, stricken, uncomplaining thing?
How could his death cause her young heart's despair,
And blight her smiling Season's opening Spring?
151
Who can reveal that pale young mourner's tale,
There kneeling speechless in her hopeless woe—
Or what would such slight chronicle avail—
The Heart's profounder History who can know?
There kneeling speechless in her hopeless woe—
Or what would such slight chronicle avail—
The Heart's profounder History who can know?
To us that tale might seem mysterious still
Without the clue to guide us through its maze,
And would perchance but with fresh wonder fill,
Since the deep truth lies veiled from mortal gaze.
Without the clue to guide us through its maze,
And would perchance but with fresh wonder fill,
Since the deep truth lies veiled from mortal gaze.
That Heart's strange workings nothing may unfold,
Strong Feeling's young beginnings none descry,
Eternal shadows still round these are rolled,
Eternal shadows round them darkening lie!
Strong Feeling's young beginnings none descry,
Eternal shadows still round these are rolled,
Eternal shadows round them darkening lie!
To her perhaps the Culprit might have shown
Alone his better nature—swayed by Love—
His Spirit's bright and sunny side alone,
For few or none in utter darkness move.
Alone his better nature—swayed by Love—
His Spirit's bright and sunny side alone,
For few or none in utter darkness move.
152
On her he might with gentlest fondness smile,
For her become the being that he seemed,
Few—none are hopelessly and wholly vile—
O'er darkest minds some softening rays have beam'd.
For her become the being that he seemed,
Few—none are hopelessly and wholly vile—
O'er darkest minds some softening rays have beam'd.
Or she might still have hoped on to the last—
That by such love as her's he must be moved—
Must be reclaimed—and weaned from that dark Past—
Cease, Dreamer! she was Woman—and she loved!
That by such love as her's he must be moved—
Must be reclaimed—and weaned from that dark Past—
Cease, Dreamer! she was Woman—and she loved!
And Love was surely sent unto our Earth
To be for all of Heaven a voice and sign—
And oh! when once he springs to radiant birth,
He cannot die—ev'n from that birth divine!
To be for all of Heaven a voice and sign—
And oh! when once he springs to radiant birth,
He cannot die—ev'n from that birth divine!
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |