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Crown'd with two grey ethereal towers,
That flamelike rise near sapphire seas,
Sleeps, cradled low in glimmering bowers,
The lordly mansion of the Leighs.
Here, flowerlike mid a thousand flowers,
Life opened to the sun and breeze,
And here, in mingling light and shade
Of old enchanted realms, a wondering child, I play'd.

123

II

Here once, on slopes of sunny lawn,
I heard the thronèd angels sing,
Or danc'd before the golden dawn,
That heralded the rainbow Spring;
Here once I mocked the piping Faun,
Or, faylike, trod the fairy ring,
Or climbed the purple hills of youth,
And dreamt, as yet I dream, that Beauty dwells with Truth.

III

One vernal morn entranced I stood,
Beside that grey ancestral hall,
When the sweet life of field and wood
Was waking to the young wind's call,
When Spring brought all things fair and good,
And yet some Fear hung over all.
“Ah! surely He whom no one sees
“Moves in the wind,” I cried, “and whispers to the trees.”

IV

A large slow cloud majestic sail'd
From east to west across the sky;
A splendour in that cloud was veil'd,
A light as of Eternity.
I looked, my trembling spirit fail'd;
I crouch'd—with dazzled, wilder'd eye,
I look'd again. From east to west
The slow majestic cloud sail'd onward to his rest.

124

V

The sun set. Bright with ruby and gold,
The Heaven lay open'd, door on door,
Till glory beyond glory told
Of what no sunrise can restore;
Of joy too rare for mortal mould,
Of love once felt, but felt no more.
“And who is this,” I cried aloud,
“That in the sunset dwells, and moves in wind and cloud?”

VI

A power from that lone secret One,
A light, a music filled my soul,
And beauty, born of star and sun,
Clasp'd me with wild and sweet control.
No fear had I when Day was done,
No care at morn, at noon no dole;
All Duty then was love and joy,
And God from rose and rainbow looked upon the Boy.

VII

Such was my vernal prime. I seem'd
Companionless, yet not alone:
A moving wonder o'er me gleam'd
The Sun; a radiance not their own
Clothed the white clouds; the forest dream'd,
Moon-charm'd; strange light was round me thrown;
With gods I walked and godlike powers,
In silent changeless joy that reckons not by hours.

125

VIII

No sense was then of time or space,
Scarce difference seemed 'twixt man and thing.
All life had one eternal face,
And season was there none but spring.
The world was mine: a royal grace
Was with me, and I walk'd a king—
Yea, thought and felt and did as one
Whose days would never end, and never had begun.

IX

From life's green April, pale and dead,
There bloom'd such bliss as poet knows,
When first those gorgeous tales I read,
Of old Arabian joys and woes;
Fair time! when Hope with Fancy wed,
When life yet breath'd of lily and rose!
How reign'd I then, my throne a tree,
The lord of all that live and all that lifeless be!

X

The lord of beauty and of love,
The emperor of all rare delights!
No flower below, no star above,
No odour blown down Indian nights,
No soaring eagle, plaining dove,
No fountain that to sleep invites,
No mine that burns with gold and gem,
No palm, no rose, no grape, but I was lord of them.

126

XI

Lord was I of all ebon slaves,
Lord was I of all secret springs,
Lord of all deep purpureal waves,
Lord of all magic lamps and rings,
Lord of grey prophesying caves,
Lord of enthroned and sceptred kings,
Lord of resplendent isles that gleam
Beneath large floating moons, silent and fair as dream.

XII

And as thro' light and flowers I sail'd,
Thro' marble arches quaint and rare,
Still blew the breeze nor music fail'd,
To rise and fall and rise in air,
And when the pilot wind prevailed,
I flew past islands, starry-fair,
Or paused by some low yellow strand,
With pausing winds to greet the lady of the land.

XIII

Rose-scented was the turf I press'd,
Far-off I heard the bulbul sing,
And ever as I dropp'd to rest,
Slow dancing round me, ring in ring,
With floating arm and dazzling breast,
Sweet women breathing of the Spring,
Lull'd me in dreams of beauty rare,
White wavering limb, smooth cheek, and long delicious hair.

127

XIV

Life chang'd once more. I mus'd alone,
But not in sunlight or in breeze,
For, night and day, a hollow moan
Disturb'd my old voluptuous ease,
And cries of souls in bale that groan,
Rose like a wind o'er lonely leas,
And warning voices spoke aloud,
And prophets pale as death that walk'd in fire and cloud.

XV

I saw the Elohim when they made
The heaven and earth: I saw the light
Break over chaos, and the shade
Which cloth'd the first mysterious night,
I saw the fields where angels play'd,
I saw the kine that on the height
Of Pison's soft blue mountains low'd,
Or waded where the streams thro' Gihon's valley flow'd.

XVI

I saw the first fair woman stand
With the first man before the sun,
I saw them lingering hand in hand,
Down Eden's bowers, forlorn, undone,
While all the roses of the land
Hung fading round them, one by one;
Then wept, like them, but wept in vain,
The childhood of the world that ne'er shall come again.

128

XVII

“Come back,”I cried, “ye happy Hours
“Of the great gardener's golden time!”
I too would worship Heaven with flowers,

See Goethe's “Wahrheit und Dichtung,” end of book i. vol. xx. Stuttgardt and Tübingen, 1840; or see the biography of the great German poet by Mr. G. H. Lewes.

“Unable to ascribe a form to the Deity, he resolved to seek Him in his works, and, in the good old Bible fashion, to build an altar to Him,” etc.—(“Life and Works of Goethe,” vol i. p. 33.)

Like Adam in his sinless prime;
And what tho' these degenerate Bowers
Lack the sweet growth of Eden's clime,
To pastoral shrine I yet may bring
The fragrance and the bloom that crown departing spring.

XVIII

A childish thought! yet all the day
I heap'd the flowery turf on high,
And broad and fair my altar lay,
When in the morning's softening sky,
The bird of hope, his rapturous lay
Sang to the sun, less glad than I;
Less glad than I, who from dim bowers
Pluck'd the round shining fruits and young rejoicing flowers.

XIX

Pluck'd sun-dyed apples drenched in dew,
Pluck'd strawberries crimson-cored and ripe,
Cull'd odorous flowers of splendid hue,
Prank'd with gold star or purple stripe;
And ever while fair breezes blew,
Poured, from one soft melodious pipe,
Sweet solemn warblings, as of old
The men that worshipp'd Pan, when rivers ran with gold.

129

XX

These primal offerings, sweet as fair,
I laid on that first sylvan shrine,
With prayer and vow, and hope that prayer
Would herald me to worlds divine,—
“Speak, wandering daughter of the air,
“Burn, burn in heaven, prophetic sign!”
Vain, vain were words, reply was none,
No voice in earth or air, or token in the sun.

XXI

“The curse,” I said, “is on me now,
“My sacrifice is that of Cain.
“I feel upon my burning brow
“The mystic brand of guilty pain.”
My blood beat wildly to and fro,
A fire leapt in my heart and brain,
The noise of bells was in my ears,
And on the earth I fell, subdued by thronging fears.

XXII

I could not weep, I could not pray,
But watch'd the clouds, as, one and all,
They melted in the soft blue day;
Till, was it dream? or did there fall,
Near the green covert where I lay,
Swath'd among flowers and grasses tall,
A silver shaft, while hunter's cry,
And bugle notes rang round, and quiver'd forms swept by?

130

XXIII

I rose from out my altar-nook
Of flowers and leaves, and swift as light,
I sprang to where, near hidden brook,
The flying feather drew my sight,
And as the fairy prize I took,
The bugle pealed o'er vale and height,
And from the forest's opening fold,
The exulting archers burst as in the days of old.

XXIV

And one, green-mantled like the glade,
Of which she almost seemed a part,
Leapt lightly from that forest shade,
And with wild beauty witch'd my heart.
In golden light her tresses play'd,
Her vest was worn with careless art,-
On one white arm a bow she bore,
And on her shoulders white an ivory quiver wore.

XXV

Half laughing, yet half serious too,
This younger Cynthia of the Chase,
With golden hair and eyes of blue,
Stood near, and ask'd with pleading grace,-
“What care, what grief hath fall'n on you?”
And while she gazed into my face
Still with a gentle grandeur smiled,
As she my elder were, a queen yet still a child.

131

XXVI

I could not choose but tell that grief;
And now she laughed, and now she frown'd,
Now dropp'd her bow, and now the sheaf,
Wherein her silver shafts were bound,
And whispered low, “Nor flower, nor leaf,
“Nor flute, nor pipe's low liquid sound,
“True worship are, but to be good,
“And love the Life that dwells in meadow and in wood.”

XXVII

“But sin,” said I; “But love,” said she;
“But that old Eden-world,” I cried;
“But this new world of sky and sea,
“This dear good earth,” the Child replied.
“Here streams of gold shall flow for thee,
“And here in vale and mountain-side,
“A truer Eden thou shalt find,
“And leave that dead old Eden fading far behind.”

XXVIII

She ceas'd, and twixt a smile and sigh,
I answer'd, “'T is no fable then,
“No echo of fond poet's lie,
“That tells how angels visit men.”
“No angel, but an archer, I,”
Laughed the green lady of the glen;
And half in sunshine, half in shade,
All glimmering in her hat, the peacock-feather play'd.

132

XXIX

“O stand,” I cried, “fair Dian, stand,
“Unheeded let thy bugles blow,
“Till I, by grace of Fairyland,
“Fit silver-shaft to silver bow.
She, curtseying, said, Not Oberon's hand,
“Could dearer gift than thine bestow,
“My silver shaft, my constant prize,
“For ever to the mark Maid Marian's arrow flies”

XXX

“Maid Marian!” said I. “Yes, she cried,
“For here still lives my forest fame,
“Here mountain-shade and river-side,
“Still echo with Maid Marian's name.
“Where green leaves dance, where rivulets glide,
“Where shadows play their ghostly game,
“Companion of the hawk and hern,
“I feed my sylvan love for fox-glove and for fern.

See Peacock's Tale of Maid Marian for this love of the fox-glove and the fern, at the end of one of the chapters.

XXXI

“But soft,” she cried. “I linger here,
“While chief and comrade wondering wait;
“Hark, far and near, and loud and clear,
“The bugles peal from tower and gate.
“Now, as you hold Maid Marian dear,
“By Locksley Hall, at stroke of eight,
“Meet me to-morrow.” Mute I stood,
The fairy vision fled, slow-fading down the wood.

The Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

133

II. Part II. ROBIN HOOD.

There lived in that forest a man who was the hero of the serfs, of the poor and the low, in a word of the Anglo-Saxon race.—Thierry.

They say he is already in the forest of Arden and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day and fleet the time carelessly as they did in the golden age.—As You Like It.

I

All night I swam in golden gloom,
Or hollow sealike murmurs heard,
And now a delicate perfume,
And now the carol of a bird
Pierc'd the thin sleep; or else my doom
Clashed like harsh bells in some vile word.
But dreams and fears with day-dawn fled,
And hope her colour'd bow flung glittering o'er my head.

134

II

I breathed the violet breath of morn,
I murmured back all happy sounds,
I crushed thro' rustling ripening corn,
I raced across the willow-grounds,
And over hill and valley borne,
I crossed the blue horizon's bounds,
And as the castle-clock chimed eight,
I saw Maid Marian's smile, and paused by Locksley gate.

III

“Well met!” she cried, and gave her hand,
Half childlike, half with woman's mien.
“Welcome, Sir Hermit, to the land
“Of peacock-plume and Lincoln-green,
“A freeman now mid freemen stand,
“Or kneel but to thy forest queen.
“For lo! the secret sylvan Fates
“Have linked thee, Lord of Leigh, with our sweet Robin's mates.”

IV

She turned; I follow'd as in dream.
Down glimmering twilight paths she led,
Where whisper'd tree to warbling stream,
Where white rose woo'd the lordlier red,
Where emerald ray or amber gleam
Pierc'd the light net of leaves o'erhead,
And now by magic cave we stood,
Shrin'd in the twinkling light of that voluptuous wood.

135

V

We entered, and, O wondrous sight!
Fair forest shapes to greet me rose,
Joy brimmed each eye with vernal light,
Strength lent each graceful limb repose;
Here books lay heaped; there, left and right,
Were quivers hung, here shafts and bows;
Here flowers were strewn, and on the floor,
Two large lithe greyhounds crouched, beside the figur'd door.

VI

By fairy power the cave seem'd wrought,
Four windows, nich'd on either side,
Bore blazon'd the pale Lords of Thought,
Or Kings of Action, eagle-eyed;
Each storied pane the sunlight caught,
The broken beams the pavement dyed,
And rainbow-colour'd shadows play'd,
Birdlike above a floor that pearly shells inlaid.

VII

“Up, dreamer, up!” with elf-like grace
The Child-Queen cried, “and follow me,
“For, see the Lord of Locksley Place,
“Our Robin, waits to welcome thee.”
A noble Form with noble face
Stood near me, such should princes be,
A silver arrow crossed his vest,
And roses in his cap half hid the peacock crest.

136

VIII

“My Liege,” thus spake that mocking child,
“Must welcome to his sylvan reign,
“One whom wild impulse, vision wild,
“Hail courtier in Queen Fancy's train,
“A hermit he” (the maiden smil'd),
“Half sage, half saint” (she smil'd again),
“A minstrel too, and born to sing
“Honour to Robin Hood! Honour to Sherwood's king!”

IX

She curtsied low; he, laughing, said,
“Welcome, Sir Poet, to our band.
“Our woodland green about thee spread,
“And bear the badges of the land,
“The peacock feather for the head,
“The bow of yew for trusty hand,
“And range our realm from dawn till noon,
“From the first blush of day till rise of silver moon.

X

“But truce to talk. The morning tide
“Brings song and feast. Our forest fare
“Will ‘Hostess Merriment’ provide,
“Yon maiden with the auburn hair.”
I looked; with four sweet mates allied
There moved a fifth, whose presence there,
Like sunshine seem'd, and soon our board,
With daintier viands laugh'd, than fields or woods afford.

137

XI

With milk-white bread and that clear gold
Which bees distil from bells of thyme,
With mellow strawberries, dewy-cold,
And mead that Odin's lips sublime
Had gladly quaffed at rite of old,
And curds that, but last curfew chime,
Were flowering in the yellow leas,
And cream more delicate than foam from fairy seas.

XII

Deft, sprite-like hands before me set
All fruits. belov'd of moon and sun,
That, blushing thro' the guardian net,
To lure young bills, had feasted none;
And there, where fern and fox-glove met,
As if for elfin triumph won,
A silver-misted rich perfume
From orient leaf and berry, floated down the room.

XIII

So went our revels: so we play'd
Our happy masque of memories old,
So frolicked in the sun and shade,
In youth's Saturnian age of gold.
So went our revels. Glen and glade
Re-echoed to the masquers bold,
And still we laughed, still sang unseen,
And when the green leaves danc'd, danc'd back in rival-green.

138

XIV

O honour to those golden days!
O honour to those rainbow hours!
O honour to the simple lays
Of Childhood singing to the Flowers!
O honour to the heart that prays
In the dim Past's enchanted bowers!
Honour to forest glade and glen,
And the sweet sylvan life that ne'er shall come agen

XV

Such life was ours: from mere delight
In the green woods, it was agreed,
From morn's first blush to star-rise bright,
The merry outlaw's life to lead.
True Saxons we, that knew aright
The wearers of the Lincoln-weed,
The gentle heart and daring grace
That made them champion long an old oppressed race.

XVI

Then bow and bugle, song and tale,
Glad feast in bower, and dance on lea,
Made the shy spirit of Mirth prevail,
And strengthened and ennobled me.
Then life was like the summer gale
That blows across the summer sea;
Then like a king I looked around—
My palace roof the sky, and earth all fairy ground.

139

XVII

Then all my days were like the May,
When May with earth's warm breath is mild,
Hope, soaring, sang her prophet lay,
And Fancy with wild dreams beguil'd,
Or Wisdom smiling, ran to play
With Love, the golden-wingèd Child,
—Love, that alone true life can give,
For love is life, and only when we love we live.

XVIII

A child like me no love could feel,
Yet what delicious tears I shed,
What glorious hopes did morn reveal,
What dainty dreams pale Twilight fed,
What bells from magic towers would peal,
Drowned in blue distance, when I led,
'Neath silver cloud or cloud of gold,
My beautiful Maid Marian over heath and wold.

XIX

A child like me could feel no love,
I only felt as poets feel,
When purple mornings break above
The golden world they half reveal,
And over mountain, lawn, and grove,
The tender lights of sunrise steal:
I only felt as saints that die
Dreaming of heaven, with angels smiling down the sky.

140

XX

But this is over. Long, long years,
Long winters and long springs are flown,
And griefs as countless as my fears,
And some few joys the man has known.
Yet oft to Fancy reappears
That fair dead world, while, sad and lone,
Sweet memories haunt the twilight hours,
Like far-off meadowy gales round old deserted bowers.

XXI

We never bended bow again,
Nor filled with tuneful breath the horn,
But wanderers wild, o'er land and main,
Soon held the Child's Romance in scorn.
Yet dreams like ours are rarely vain,
The blossom drops, the fruit is born;
And thus, beneath our English skies,
In deeds of princely love our Locksley's visions rise.

XXII

Old times, old thoughts revive again,
Love lights the barren moor with flowers;
And still to grace the Saxon men
Return the antique Sylvan Powers,
Till every hill-crest, every glen
Laughs with white homes and rosy bowers.
And all that dwell in sun and shade
Our Robin bless, and bless our Marian gentle maid.

141

XXIII

Nay, gentle wife! but maid no more,
For in the home where Robin dwells,
Our Marian heard the vows of yore,
Ring echoing back in happy bells,
And true to the old love he bore
My wildwood fay of thousand spells,
Above the gathering storms of life,
Herald of azure calm he throned that halcyon wife.

XXIV

O golden years advance, advance!
O years of regal work and thought!
O doubting hearts! the child's romance,
Shall into splendid fact be wrought;
By laughing years, in choral dance,
The world's great summer shall be brought,
And cradled hours shall wake and sing
An autumn rich in fruits, as once in buds the spring.

XXV

A fairer knighthood shall be ours,
Than ever Norman baron knew,
With sweeter women in our bowers,
For tenderer, nobler, men to woo,
Truth from a thousand starry towers
Her flaming torch shall lift anew,
And Art, that old diviner truth,
Shall bring again the age of man's resplendent youth.

142

XXVI

Then Science, reconcil'd with Song,
Shall throb with life's melodious beat,
Then Song, thro' Science wise and strong,
Shall her impassion'd tale repeat,
Then Right shall reign, discrowning Wrong,
Then old Compliance shall be sweet,
Then star to kindred star shall call,
And soul to soul shall answer, “Love is Lord of all.”