 | Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell |  |
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LIONEL AND MARGARET.
I. PART I.
It is the golden summer time,
Lovely the earth as in its prime,
When beauty glowed in Eden's bowers,
And sparkled in its blushing flowers;
When all things wore the radiant dye,
The hue of immortality.
Fair and pleasant is the scene:
A sloping lawn of tender green
Is set amidst a ring of trees,
And flow'rs attract the honey bees,
Whose hum is heard upon the breeze.
Southward there gleams a tranquil lake,
Where, in a thousand ripples, break
The waves that shine like diamonds bright
In the fair morning's glowing light.
And near the house a fountain plays,
Which leaps to meet the sun's bright rays;
And then falls back with cooling sound,
Scattering bright rainbow showers around.
Lovely the earth as in its prime,
When beauty glowed in Eden's bowers,
And sparkled in its blushing flowers;
When all things wore the radiant dye,
The hue of immortality.
Fair and pleasant is the scene:
A sloping lawn of tender green
Is set amidst a ring of trees,
And flow'rs attract the honey bees,
Whose hum is heard upon the breeze.
Southward there gleams a tranquil lake,
Where, in a thousand ripples, break
The waves that shine like diamonds bright
In the fair morning's glowing light.
And near the house a fountain plays,
Which leaps to meet the sun's bright rays;
And then falls back with cooling sound,
Scattering bright rainbow showers around.
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Upon this fair and fragrant lawn,
In youth's first flush and rosy dawn,
A merry group of children play
And with their sport beguile the day;
Such children as to us are given,
As if to say—“Of such is heaven.”
Some chase, with lightsome step and spring,
The butterfly's enamelled wing;
Some gather flow'rets fresh and fair,
And twine them in their wavy hair.
Or to their voices' music sweet,
In graceful dance advance, retreat;
And ever come upon the ear,
Sweet joyous shouts and laughter clear,
Wild bursts of uncontrollèd glee,
And innocent glad revelry.
But two, apart from all the throng,
Nor heed the dance, nor list the song,
A boy and girl, in life's first pride,
Sit near each other, side by side.
Of different beauty each, though fair,
He with dark eyes, and raven hair;
Her tresses sunny, and her eye
Steeped in the heaven's bluest dye.
As two flowers growing from one stem,
Whose dewy petals meet and twine
As two gems in a diadem,
With the one lustre flash and shine
So these fair children, sweet and young,
As any minstrel ever sung,
Near to each other, sit apart,
One in hope, and one in heart.
In youth's first flush and rosy dawn,
A merry group of children play
And with their sport beguile the day;
Such children as to us are given,
As if to say—“Of such is heaven.”
Some chase, with lightsome step and spring,
The butterfly's enamelled wing;
Some gather flow'rets fresh and fair,
And twine them in their wavy hair.
Or to their voices' music sweet,
In graceful dance advance, retreat;
And ever come upon the ear,
Sweet joyous shouts and laughter clear,
Wild bursts of uncontrollèd glee,
And innocent glad revelry.
But two, apart from all the throng,
Nor heed the dance, nor list the song,
A boy and girl, in life's first pride,
Sit near each other, side by side.
Of different beauty each, though fair,
He with dark eyes, and raven hair;
Her tresses sunny, and her eye
Steeped in the heaven's bluest dye.
As two flowers growing from one stem,
Whose dewy petals meet and twine
As two gems in a diadem,
With the one lustre flash and shine
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As any minstrel ever sung,
Near to each other, sit apart,
One in hope, and one in heart.
Here, in the early summer light,
In childhood's morning, glad and bright,
With the roses blooming near,
And slender lilies tall, and clear,
These two have come from all the others,
Friends and sisters, fathers, brothers.
He o'er her tenderly doth bow,
And twines a garland for her brow;
While she, with sweet and artless smile,
Looks up into his eyes the while,
And glows her cheek with youthful pride,
As he lisping calls her “little bride.”
O happy days, so fair and bright!
O world, all clad in tender light!
O radiant hours, must ye then pass
Like shadows flitting o'er the grass?
In childhood's morning, glad and bright,
With the roses blooming near,
And slender lilies tall, and clear,
These two have come from all the others,
Friends and sisters, fathers, brothers.
He o'er her tenderly doth bow,
And twines a garland for her brow;
While she, with sweet and artless smile,
Looks up into his eyes the while,
And glows her cheek with youthful pride,
As he lisping calls her “little bride.”
O happy days, so fair and bright!
O world, all clad in tender light!
O radiant hours, must ye then pass
Like shadows flitting o'er the grass?
And now the delicate feast is laid
Beneath the beeches in the shade,
And here glow ripe and mellow fruits,
With dulcet creams, and juicy roots;
Red grapes and amber from the vine,
That like to lustrous jewels shine;
All that could please these children fair,
Was placed in plenteous bounty there.
So passed the happy hours away,
Until in beauty closed the day.
The sun in splendour rich and bright,
His bed a couch of rosy light,
Sank slowly to his evening rest,
Flooding with glory all the glowing west.
Then sounded from the old church tower
The curfew-bell, toiling the parting hour;
Its solemn chime falling upon the ear,
Now loud and high, now deep and clear.
Then came the pleasant eventide,
And all the heavens, far and wide,
Were filled with stars, which gleamed and shone
Around the white moon on her throne.
The flowers had long since closed their eyes,
The fair white lily, and the crimson rose;
But still they send forth fragrant sighs,
And all their sweetness they disclose.
The birds are silent in the trees,
Nor is there heard the whisper of a breeze.
Only one bird prolongs her note,
And she, the sweet-voiced nightingale,
Fills with her music all the dale,
Which gushing from her swelling throat,
A hurried and a passionate strain,
Echo awake repeats again
In modulated love and pain.
And when the happy birds and bees
Flew to their homes amongst the trees,
And dewy flowr's, as daylight fled,
Slept with shut eyes and drooping head,
The children sought each their mother's nest,
And soon were folded to her breast.
They parted all, and calm came down,
A benediction like a crown
Resting in blessing on each brow
That lay in happy slumber now.
Beneath the beeches in the shade,
And here glow ripe and mellow fruits,
With dulcet creams, and juicy roots;
Red grapes and amber from the vine,
That like to lustrous jewels shine;
All that could please these children fair,
Was placed in plenteous bounty there.
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Until in beauty closed the day.
The sun in splendour rich and bright,
His bed a couch of rosy light,
Sank slowly to his evening rest,
Flooding with glory all the glowing west.
Then sounded from the old church tower
The curfew-bell, toiling the parting hour;
Its solemn chime falling upon the ear,
Now loud and high, now deep and clear.
Then came the pleasant eventide,
And all the heavens, far and wide,
Were filled with stars, which gleamed and shone
Around the white moon on her throne.
The flowers had long since closed their eyes,
The fair white lily, and the crimson rose;
But still they send forth fragrant sighs,
And all their sweetness they disclose.
The birds are silent in the trees,
Nor is there heard the whisper of a breeze.
Only one bird prolongs her note,
And she, the sweet-voiced nightingale,
Fills with her music all the dale,
Which gushing from her swelling throat,
A hurried and a passionate strain,
Echo awake repeats again
In modulated love and pain.
And when the happy birds and bees
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And dewy flowr's, as daylight fled,
Slept with shut eyes and drooping head,
The children sought each their mother's nest,
And soon were folded to her breast.
They parted all, and calm came down,
A benediction like a crown
Resting in blessing on each brow
That lay in happy slumber now.
Oh, who may say what after fate
These joyous little ones await?
Oh, who may tell if bliss or woe
Shall be their portion here below?
Shout! shout! make echo ring again
With your wild, mirthful glee;
Your brows are yet undimmed by pain,
Your hearts from care are free.
Shout! shout and laugh! for coming years
May turn your mirth and joy to tears.
Then visions of these youthful days,
And of this sunlit green,
Will flit across your weary gaze;
And joys that once have been,
Into new life shall rush, and start,
Will pierce the brain, and wring the heart,
Will bring fresh tears, and bitter sorrows,
Thoughts of sweet yesterdays, and sad to-morrows;
And you will feel that years of pain
Would cheaply purchase hours of youth again.
These joyous little ones await?
Oh, who may tell if bliss or woe
Shall be their portion here below?
Shout! shout! make echo ring again
With your wild, mirthful glee;
Your brows are yet undimmed by pain,
Your hearts from care are free.
Shout! shout and laugh! for coming years
May turn your mirth and joy to tears.
Then visions of these youthful days,
And of this sunlit green,
Will flit across your weary gaze;
And joys that once have been,
Into new life shall rush, and start,
Will pierce the brain, and wring the heart,
Will bring fresh tears, and bitter sorrows,
Thoughts of sweet yesterdays, and sad to-morrows;
And you will feel that years of pain
Would cheaply purchase hours of youth again.
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II. PART II.
Time passed; they came and went, the months and years,
And brought their changes as they hurried by;
To some they bore sad thoughts and bitter tears,
Regrets and memories that raised a sigh;
To others rest and pleasures sweet and deep,
Bright days of joy, and nights of peaceful sleep.
And brought their changes as they hurried by;
To some they bore sad thoughts and bitter tears,
Regrets and memories that raised a sigh;
To others rest and pleasures sweet and deep,
Bright days of joy, and nights of peaceful sleep.
And what of those who met in that bright scene,
When summer flushed the sky with tender light,
And hills and valleys clothed themselves in green,
And the whole earth looked fresh, and pure, and bright,
Or if a shadow fell across the way,
It only shed a softened lustre on the day?
When summer flushed the sky with tender light,
And hills and valleys clothed themselves in green,
And the whole earth looked fresh, and pure, and bright,
Or if a shadow fell across the way,
It only shed a softened lustre on the day?
Ah, what of them, the young, the gay, the free,
Who played together on the emerald grass,
And laughed and danced in merry childish glee,
And chased the shadows as they saw them pass,
And shouted to the echoes, which again
Replied to them in sweet and mocking strain!
Who played together on the emerald grass,
And laughed and danced in merry childish glee,
And chased the shadows as they saw them pass,
And shouted to the echoes, which again
Replied to them in sweet and mocking strain!
Their fates are various: some on foreign shore
Their fortunes seek, and some upon the main;
Some toil amid the city's deaf'ning roar,
With weary hand, and sweat of brow and brain;
Some burn the midnight oil, and some are wed;
And others lie at rest amongst the quiet dead.
Their fortunes seek, and some upon the main;
Some toil amid the city's deaf'ning roar,
With weary hand, and sweat of brow and brain;
Some burn the midnight oil, and some are wed;
And others lie at rest amongst the quiet dead.
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And the fair Girl and Boy, who in their youth
Were lovers, and whose souls were early knit
To one another with firm strength and truth,
For whom the future was all rainbow lit
With hopes that made the common earth and air
Seem like transfigured things divinely fair?
Were lovers, and whose souls were early knit
To one another with firm strength and truth,
For whom the future was all rainbow lit
With hopes that made the common earth and air
Seem like transfigured things divinely fair?
Well, for a time they lived as in a dream;
They met and parted, parted, met again,
And ran their lives in one full happy stream,
Nor was there aught of sorrow or of pain;
And thus to live at all was very sweet,
And flowers sprang up and blossom'd round their feet.
They met and parted, parted, met again,
And ran their lives in one full happy stream,
Nor was there aught of sorrow or of pain;
And thus to live at all was very sweet,
And flowers sprang up and blossom'd round their feet.
And so their life and being grew all one,
As twilight mingles with the dying day;
Or as some cloud, that lies anear the sun,
Is interpenetrated with his ray;
They knew not thought, or wish, or grief apart,
But answered perfectly each heart to heart.
As twilight mingles with the dying day;
Or as some cloud, that lies anear the sun,
Is interpenetrated with his ray;
They knew not thought, or wish, or grief apart,
But answered perfectly each heart to heart.
O love, O youth and love, before whose eyes
The future gleams, bethed in ideal light,
And the whole world becomes a paradise,
And hours are winged with pleasures in their flight,
And flowers on earth, and stars in heaven above,
More radiant grow, touched by the spell of love!
The future gleams, bethed in ideal light,
And the whole world becomes a paradise,
And hours are winged with pleasures in their flight,
And flowers on earth, and stars in heaven above,
More radiant grow, touched by the spell of love!
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Neighbours they were, her father and his sire:
Their homes divided by broad pasture ground
And stretch of hill, but both in one fair shire,
Near to a river, which, with plashing sound,
Rolled thro' the meadows in a spacious sweep,
And held a tranquil course unto the deep.
Their homes divided by broad pasture ground
And stretch of hill, but both in one fair shire,
Near to a river, which, with plashing sound,
Rolled thro' the meadows in a spacious sweep,
And held a tranquil course unto the deep.
Her sire was lord of acres rich and broad,
And in the north owned mountain, lake, and moor;
His lands were unto him a kind of god,
But in true wealth he was indeed most poor.
Strip him of acres which to him were all,
And what was left? A thing immeasurably small.
And in the north owned mountain, lake, and moor;
His lands were unto him a kind of god,
But in true wealth he was indeed most poor.
Strip him of acres which to him were all,
And what was left? A thing immeasurably small.
It was his moneys, houses, his estate,
That others bowed to, not the man within;
His outward robes made all he had of great,
The soul beneath was poor, and weak, and thin,
Unwind a mummy from its garish sheath,
What see you there? A thing of dust and death.
That others bowed to, not the man within;
His outward robes made all he had of great,
The soul beneath was poor, and weak, and thin,
Unwind a mummy from its garish sheath,
What see you there? A thing of dust and death.
His father was of good and gentle birth,
True gentleman, not honoured for his gold;
Some part, not much, he had in God's green earth,
A few ancestral fields on weald and wold;
Rich only in seven sons, whose brain and hand
Must win their fortunes, and success command.
True gentleman, not honoured for his gold;
Some part, not much, he had in God's green earth,
A few ancestral fields on weald and wold;
Rich only in seven sons, whose brain and hand
Must win their fortunes, and success command.
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Too soon there came the waking: with a start
Their happy dreams were brought to sudden end;
Their doom was now to separate, to part,
Or hold each other only as a friend.
Her father frowned on him since he was poor,
So they must meet no more, weep, and endure.
Their happy dreams were brought to sudden end;
Their doom was now to separate, to part,
Or hold each other only as a friend.
Her father frowned on him since he was poor,
So they must meet no more, weep, and endure.
Easy to counsel patience—bid forget;
But hard to carry out the stern command,
When the heart breaks, and eyes with tears are wet,
And hope is wrecked like vessel on the strand,
And life is blank, a story all unread,
And them we count the happy who are dead.
But hard to carry out the stern command,
When the heart breaks, and eyes with tears are wet,
And hope is wrecked like vessel on the strand,
And life is blank, a story all unread,
And them we count the happy who are dead.
So these two found it, yet they bore up well,
And trusted firmly one another's faith,
Knowing whatever sorrow them befell,
That naught should part them,—naught at least but death;
Faithful to one another they should be,
Though far divided by the cruel sea.
And trusted firmly one another's faith,
Knowing whatever sorrow them befell,
That naught should part them,—naught at least but death;
Faithful to one another they should be,
Though far divided by the cruel sea.
And so they were strong-hearted, though it cost
Them many a bitter pang to separate;
And hope and joy, and life itself seemed lost,
And the whole world to them desolate;
And that most bitter of all words, “Farewell,”
Sounded as sad as sounds a funeral bell.
Them many a bitter pang to separate;
And hope and joy, and life itself seemed lost,
And the whole world to them desolate;
And that most bitter of all words, “Farewell,”
Sounded as sad as sounds a funeral bell.
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'Tis evening: all the birds are fast asleep,
The flowers have closed their petals near and far,
And glow-worms out of flowery hedges creep,
To light their lamps, which burn like some bright star,
On leaves where shimmering dew-drops flashing shine,
And on the bluebell, and sweet eglantine.
The flowers have closed their petals near and far,
And glow-worms out of flowery hedges creep,
To light their lamps, which burn like some bright star,
On leaves where shimmering dew-drops flashing shine,
And on the bluebell, and sweet eglantine.
No whisper of the wind is heard to-night
Amongst the grasses or the branching trees;
And not a cloud crosses the moon's fair light,
Or dims the grace of her white majesties;
A hush lies on the earth, calm, peaceful, still,
Silence on valley, wooded copse, and hill.
Amongst the grasses or the branching trees;
And not a cloud crosses the moon's fair light,
Or dims the grace of her white majesties;
A hush lies on the earth, calm, peaceful, still,
Silence on valley, wooded copse, and hill.
They only sound is that of waters clear,
Which singing run across a pebbled bed,
And wind beneath the banks, now there, now here,
And from a fountain in the hills are fed;
They make sweet music as they trickle by,
Glassing within their wave the starry sky.
Which singing run across a pebbled bed,
And wind beneath the banks, now there, now here,
And from a fountain in the hills are fed;
They make sweet music as they trickle by,
Glassing within their wave the starry sky.
There is a little bridge across the river,
Near which grow gnarled oak, and ash-trees pale,
And one tall poplar, all whose grey leaves shiver
Though not a breath of wind stirs in the dale;
And a fair willow weeps above the stream,
Which glides along with many a glint and gleam.
Near which grow gnarled oak, and ash-trees pale,
And one tall poplar, all whose grey leaves shiver
Though not a breath of wind stirs in the dale;
And a fair willow weeps above the stream,
Which glides along with many a glint and gleam.
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And here they meet, these two so soon to part,
Hand clasped in hand, and eyes all wet with tears;
A pang like that of death at either heart,
Torn with a thousand sorrows, doubts, and fears,
Which from the future took all joy and trust,
And kill'd sweet hope, and laid it in the dust.
Hand clasped in hand, and eyes all wet with tears;
A pang like that of death at either heart,
Torn with a thousand sorrows, doubts, and fears,
Which from the future took all joy and trust,
And kill'd sweet hope, and laid it in the dust.
A lovely maiden she, robed in the light
Of innocence and youth; deep blue her eyes,
Intense as are the heavens in summer night,
When myriad stars shine in the cloudless skies;
Sunny her hair, and golden, as some ray
Of sunshine wandering there had lost its way.
Of innocence and youth; deep blue her eyes,
Intense as are the heavens in summer night,
When myriad stars shine in the cloudless skies;
Sunny her hair, and golden, as some ray
Of sunshine wandering there had lost its way.
A mind to match the face, pure, gentle, good,
Quick to conceive, rapid to understand,
Attuned to catch each subtle varying mood
Of joy or grief; an open, liberal hand;
A tender heart, a voice of softest tone;
A soul to make the griefs of others all her own.
Quick to conceive, rapid to understand,
Attuned to catch each subtle varying mood
Of joy or grief; an open, liberal hand;
A tender heart, a voice of softest tone;
A soul to make the griefs of others all her own.
And he was worthy of this lady fair—
His sympathies all with the right and true;
His thoughts to God and man might all lie bare,
And be exposed unto the general view;
For nothing low or mean, untrue or base,
Had there a lodgment or a dwelling-place.
His sympathies all with the right and true;
His thoughts to God and man might all lie bare,
And be exposed unto the general view;
For nothing low or mean, untrue or base,
Had there a lodgment or a dwelling-place.
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A valiant soldier was he of the cross,
One not ashamed to live above the world,
Content to bear the pain, and suffer loss,
His banner bravely borne, not idly furled;
The foes of Christ were his; he boldly trod
The upward path that led to heaven and God.
One not ashamed to live above the world,
Content to bear the pain, and suffer loss,
His banner bravely borne, not idly furled;
The foes of Christ were his; he boldly trod
The upward path that led to heaven and God.
He was about to sail for southern lands,
Where suns are larger, brighter moons by night,
Where lustrous stars burn over golden sands,
And birds flash by, like gems of living light.
Not thither drawn by any selfish hope,
But that with sin and sorrow he might cope.
Where suns are larger, brighter moons by night,
Where lustrous stars burn over golden sands,
And birds flash by, like gems of living light.
Not thither drawn by any selfish hope,
But that with sin and sorrow he might cope.
No restless enterprise attracts his heart,
Ambition, commerce, draw him not afar;
He seeks not wealth upon the foreign mart,
Nor honour on the bloody fields of war;
Nor would he dig for treasure in the mine
Where the red gold or gleaming diamonds shine.
Ambition, commerce, draw him not afar;
He seeks not wealth upon the foreign mart,
Nor honour on the bloody fields of war;
Nor would he dig for treasure in the mine
Where the red gold or gleaming diamonds shine.
Nor goes he to trace rivers to their source,
Or bring from dusty tombs the mummied dead;
Not his to quell the savage beast by force,
Or track the cruel tiger to his bed;
Nor is his only wish to wander, where
The skies are bluer, more divine the air.
Or bring from dusty tombs the mummied dead;
Not his to quell the savage beast by force,
Or track the cruel tiger to his bed;
Nor is his only wish to wander, where
The skies are bluer, more divine the air.
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He leaves his home a messenger of peace,
To open fountains sweet in thirsty grounds,
To tell how guilty souls may find release,
And gladden weary ears with joyful sounds;
To give the wretched balsam for their woes,
And make the desert blossom as the rose.
To open fountains sweet in thirsty grounds,
To tell how guilty souls may find release,
And gladden weary ears with joyful sounds;
To give the wretched balsam for their woes,
And make the desert blossom as the rose.
Had he gone forth fair fortune's smiles to gain,
Her father on his love had smiled, not frowned;
He had not sued for Margaret's hand in vain,
This gift his deep affection then had crowned.
But what could a poor soldier of the cross
Expect, but poverty, hardship, and loss?
Her father on his love had smiled, not frowned;
He had not sued for Margaret's hand in vain,
This gift his deep affection then had crowned.
But what could a poor soldier of the cross
Expect, but poverty, hardship, and loss?
And she would fain have followed where he led,
And joined with his her hand and future fate;
With him no pain or hardship would she dread,
Or ever at his side feel desolate.
There was no sacrifice she would not make,
The greater, all the better, for his sake.
And joined with his her hand and future fate;
With him no pain or hardship would she dread,
Or ever at his side feel desolate.
There was no sacrifice she would not make,
The greater, all the better, for his sake.
It might not be: a father's will said “nay,”
And by her pleading was not to be bent,
Although she wept, and weeping, oft did pray,
She could not win her wish, or his consent;
She only could take refuge in her God,
And meekly bow the head, and kiss the rod.
And by her pleading was not to be bent,
Although she wept, and weeping, oft did pray,
She could not win her wish, or his consent;
She only could take refuge in her God,
And meekly bow the head, and kiss the rod.
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And what could Lionel do but dry her tears,
And whisper words in strong and hopeful tone,
And bid her look beyond the weary years,
When he would come and make her all his own;
And then the keenness of their happy bliss
Would more than compensate such pain as this?
And whisper words in strong and hopeful tone,
And bid her look beyond the weary years,
When he would come and make her all his own;
And then the keenness of their happy bliss
Would more than compensate such pain as this?
He spoke of God, of hope, of love, of all
That could shed balm upon her troubled breast;
And gently sought each motive to recall
That possibly might soothe her heart to rest;
And then the shadow passed from out her eyes,
And, looking up, she smiled in hopeful wise.
That could shed balm upon her troubled breast;
And gently sought each motive to recall
That possibly might soothe her heart to rest;
And then the shadow passed from out her eyes,
And, looking up, she smiled in hopeful wise.
And then he stood and kissed away her tears,
And held her trembling to his throbbing heart;
And, torn with anguish and contending fears,
He turned away as if indeed to part;
Then turned again to take one last long look,
While thrilled his frame, and all his pulses shook.
And held her trembling to his throbbing heart;
And, torn with anguish and contending fears,
He turned away as if indeed to part;
Then turned again to take one last long look,
While thrilled his frame, and all his pulses shook.
Thus went they on their sad and several ways,
Beneath the passionless and gleaming skies,
From which the moon shed down her clear cold rays,
And stars looked out with bright and pitiless eyes;
And with a slow and faltering step they pass
Across the long and dewy meadow-grass.
Beneath the passionless and gleaming skies,
From which the moon shed down her clear cold rays,
And stars looked out with bright and pitiless eyes;
And with a slow and faltering step they pass
Across the long and dewy meadow-grass.
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So parted they in sorrow and in tears;
Yet in their hearts faith beat both high and pure,
And hope was strong that in the coming years
Was happiness for them both true and sure,
That though to-night they two must part and sever,
It could not be, it would not be, for ever.
Yet in their hearts faith beat both high and pure,
And hope was strong that in the coming years
Was happiness for them both true and sure,
That though to-night they two must part and sever,
It could not be, it would not be, for ever.
Sundered they were by cruel breadths of sea,
Which rolled between, and kept them far apart;
But severed from each other they might be,
Yet still they grew together heart to heart,
And prayers and thoughts were wafted o'er the deep,
And oft they met in dreams in happy sleep.
Which rolled between, and kept them far apart;
But severed from each other they might be,
Yet still they grew together heart to heart,
And prayers and thoughts were wafted o'er the deep,
And oft they met in dreams in happy sleep.
Her father was of shallow heart and brain,
Not cruel, and not wantonly unkind,
And so not wholly careless of their pain;
No vow of silence on them did he bind:
He hoped and thought their love would wax in time,
Faint as the echo of a childish rhyme.
Not cruel, and not wantonly unkind,
And so not wholly careless of their pain;
No vow of silence on them did he bind:
He hoped and thought their love would wax in time,
Faint as the echo of a childish rhyme.
And so, in word at least, being left unbound,
Letters were sent as they occasion made,
Or fitting opportunity was found;
But always were they more or less afraid,
That soon this solace even might be gone,
The silent sanction which he gave withdrawn.
Letters were sent as they occasion made,
Or fitting opportunity was found;
But always were they more or less afraid,
That soon this solace even might be gone,
The silent sanction which he gave withdrawn.
142
These letters, filled with tender words of love,
Affection's messengers, came oft from him;
Letters esteemed by her all things above,
And read with beatings of the heart, eyes dim
With tears,—dear letters, read and read again,
Taking from sorrow something of its pain.
Affection's messengers, came oft from him;
Letters esteemed by her all things above,
And read with beatings of the heart, eyes dim
With tears,—dear letters, read and read again,
Taking from sorrow something of its pain.
And the sweet pages he received from her,
At intervals too long, came like a ray
Of sunshine to his life, each pulse did stir,
And brought a light into his darkened day,
And often when weighed down by heavy care,
Buoyant he felt as though he trod on air.
At intervals too long, came like a ray
Of sunshine to his life, each pulse did stir,
And brought a light into his darkened day,
And often when weighed down by heavy care,
Buoyant he felt as though he trod on air.
At length her patient look, her paler cheek,
The heart that broke beneath a quiet mien,
The faltering step, that daily grew more weak,
The change that was too plain not to be seen,
Touched those that saw her daily weep and sigh,
And brought the fear that she would pine and die.
The heart that broke beneath a quiet mien,
The faltering step, that daily grew more weak,
The change that was too plain not to be seen,
Touched those that saw her daily weep and sigh,
And brought the fear that she would pine and die.
And so her sorrow won them to relent,
And say her will should also now be theirs;
That to her marriage they would give consent,
And yield the answer to her silent prayers;
And so, like flowers in sunshine after rain,
Her drooping heart revived, grew strong again.
And say her will should also now be theirs;
That to her marriage they would give consent,
And yield the answer to her silent prayers;
And so, like flowers in sunshine after rain,
Her drooping heart revived, grew strong again.
143
The news was sent across the severing sea,
That Lionel at once to her might come;
“For God,” she said, “has gracious been to me,
A light has shone again into my home;
Once thought I we should never meet, dear love,
Until our meeting in the home above.
That Lionel at once to her might come;
“For God,” she said, “has gracious been to me,
A light has shone again into my home;
Once thought I we should never meet, dear love,
Until our meeting in the home above.
“But He has left me here to cheer thy way,
To comfort thee in sorrow and in care;
To walk beside thee every coming day,
Thy work for Him, as I have strength, to share;
So to be near thee all my happy life,
A true, a faithful, and a loving wife.”
To comfort thee in sorrow and in care;
To walk beside thee every coming day,
Thy work for Him, as I have strength, to share;
So to be near thee all my happy life,
A true, a faithful, and a loving wife.”
And thus again the weary world grew bright,
The skies seemed clearer, and the flowers more fair;
The earth was robed in hues of richer light,
Filled with a purer and diviner air;
The grass was greener 'neath her happy feet,
The song of birds more joyous and more sweet.
The skies seemed clearer, and the flowers more fair;
The earth was robed in hues of richer light,
Filled with a purer and diviner air;
The grass was greener 'neath her happy feet,
The song of birds more joyous and more sweet.
The time was fixed for Lionel to leave
The gorgeous tropics for sweet English shore;
And ah, what pleasant visions did they weave!
How they should meet, and meet to part no more;
For ever would they move on side by side,
Earth's happiest bridegroom, and its happiest bride.
The gorgeous tropics for sweet English shore;
And ah, what pleasant visions did they weave!
How they should meet, and meet to part no more;
For ever would they move on side by side,
Earth's happiest bridegroom, and its happiest bride.
144
And thus the days passed on, the weeks flew by,
The ship he was to sail in ploughed the deep;
The hours she counted with a happy sigh,
And dreams of Lionel gave joy to sleep.
Each morning woke her with a new delight,
The time was shorter since the previous night.
The ship he was to sail in ploughed the deep;
The hours she counted with a happy sigh,
And dreams of Lionel gave joy to sleep.
Each morning woke her with a new delight,
The time was shorter since the previous night.
At length her hope was crowned, the ship had come,
And dropped her anchor in an English bay;
Had made a prosperous voyage o'er the foam,
And favouring winds had borne her on her way;
And as she heard the glad'ning news, I wis
That Margaret's heart was full of sweetest bliss.
And dropped her anchor in an English bay;
Had made a prosperous voyage o'er the foam,
And favouring winds had borne her on her way;
And as she heard the glad'ning news, I wis
That Margaret's heart was full of sweetest bliss.
A joyous song burst from her happy tongue,
Then broke, then thrilled again, then ended there,
For she was restless, kept to nothing long,
Roamed through the house, stepped out into the air;
She had been early up before the dawn,
Tended the swans, and fed the little fawn.
Then broke, then thrilled again, then ended there,
For she was restless, kept to nothing long,
Roamed through the house, stepped out into the air;
She had been early up before the dawn,
Tended the swans, and fed the little fawn.
At dusky eve she sought the little wood,
Just as the rounded moon rose white and pale;
And then, in sad and yet half happy mood,
She stood and listened to the nightingale,
As from its throat the song began to flow,
Now quick and hurried, and now soft and low.
Just as the rounded moon rose white and pale;
And then, in sad and yet half happy mood,
She stood and listened to the nightingale,
As from its throat the song began to flow,
Now quick and hurried, and now soft and low.
145
She stood entranced in deep and silent thought,
Nor moved until a hasty step drew near,
Which to her temples all the colour brought,
Yet shook her with a nameless dread and fear.
She turned, she saw her father come in sight,
Wan as a moonbeam on the edge of night.
Nor moved until a hasty step drew near,
Which to her temples all the colour brought,
Yet shook her with a nameless dread and fear.
She turned, she saw her father come in sight,
Wan as a moonbeam on the edge of night.
She watched him as he came, she saw him stand
Close at her side, yet stirred not, was quite still;
He held an open letter in his hand,
She could not take it, had no power or will;
She only stared at him, and held her breath,
With eyes all wild, and face as white as death.
Close at her side, yet stirred not, was quite still;
He held an open letter in his hand,
She could not take it, had no power or will;
She only stared at him, and held her breath,
With eyes all wild, and face as white as death.
She knew it all before he uttered word,
Before the cruel news was said or spoken;
And when it came, it smote her like a sword,
And the poor loving heart at once was broken.
She made no cry, no moan, nor any sound,
But fell all lifeless, smitten to the ground.
Before the cruel news was said or spoken;
And when it came, it smote her like a sword,
And the poor loving heart at once was broken.
She made no cry, no moan, nor any sound,
But fell all lifeless, smitten to the ground.
Yes, he was dead. Before his time to sail,
Illness had stretched him on a hopeless bed,
Where long he lay, held by the fever bale,
And from that couch he never raised his head.
Disease was rapid, poisoned every vein,
And racked and tortured him with burning pain.
Illness had stretched him on a hopeless bed,
Where long he lay, held by the fever bale,
And from that couch he never raised his head.
Disease was rapid, poisoned every vein,
And racked and tortured him with burning pain.
146
His last thoughts were of heaven and Margaret,
Her name was interwoven with each prayer;
And if his eyes with tears grew ever wet,
It was to think his death would bring her care.
He sent her words and messages of love,
And told her they should meet ere long above.
Her name was interwoven with each prayer;
And if his eyes with tears grew ever wet,
It was to think his death would bring her care.
He sent her words and messages of love,
And told her they should meet ere long above.
And once his fancy wandered, and he dreamed
He played with her upon the meadow green;
And once again it happy May-time seemed,
As in the long-pass'd days it once had been.
And, rising up, he said, “I hear the swell
From the old church of the dear Curfew-bell.”
He played with her upon the meadow green;
And once again it happy May-time seemed,
As in the long-pass'd days it once had been.
And, rising up, he said, “I hear the swell
From the old church of the dear Curfew-bell.”
And so he died; and there beside the wave,
Where he had laboured long for Christ and God
They buried him, and dug his lonely grave,
And planted English flowers upon the sod;
And left him there to sleep, in that low bed,
Until the day when earth shall yield her dead.
Where he had laboured long for Christ and God
They buried him, and dug his lonely grave,
And planted English flowers upon the sod;
And left him there to sleep, in that low bed,
Until the day when earth shall yield her dead.
And she—she did not die: she envied death;
Had she her will she would have lain all white
Upon her bier—to God resigned her breath,
And hid her hopeless sorrow from the light,
She would have slept, and with delighted eyes
Have waked to see her Lionel in Paradise.
Had she her will she would have lain all white
Upon her bier—to God resigned her breath,
And hid her hopeless sorrow from the light,
She would have slept, and with delighted eyes
Have waked to see her Lionel in Paradise.
147
It was not yet to be,—not yet; she must
Live on and on, and so she bowed her will
To God's, and prayed for patience and for trust;
And praying, grew resigned, and calm, and still,
And lived for others, sought to heal their grief,
And doing so, found for herself relief.
Live on and on, and so she bowed her will
To God's, and prayed for patience and for trust;
And praying, grew resigned, and calm, and still,
And lived for others, sought to heal their grief,
And doing so, found for herself relief.
Her gentleness and patience were most sweet,
No one e'er heard a murmur for her woes;
She lived to tend her father, and to meet
Life's daily duties as they daily rose.
But still of her dead self she was the ghost,
All joy and happiness being slain and lost.
No one e'er heard a murmur for her woes;
She lived to tend her father, and to meet
Life's daily duties as they daily rose.
But still of her dead self she was the ghost,
All joy and happiness being slain and lost.
And so ran out the sad and lonely years,
Linked each to each by hours of bitter pain,
For though she smiled for others, oftener tears
Flowed from an aching heart and weary brain.
Had she so pleased she might have often wed,
But love and hope were buried with the dead.
Linked each to each by hours of bitter pain,
For though she smiled for others, oftener tears
Flowed from an aching heart and weary brain.
Had she so pleased she might have often wed,
But love and hope were buried with the dead.
And thus she gently faded, day by day:
They saw her slowly die before their eyes;
And then all quietly she passed away,—
Smiling she passed, and not with tears or sighs.
Her heart had gone before her to the shore,
Where she and Lionel would meet once more.
They saw her slowly die before their eyes;
And then all quietly she passed away,—
Smiling she passed, and not with tears or sighs.
Her heart had gone before her to the shore,
Where she and Lionel would meet once more.
148
What is the meaning of the Christian life?
Is it success, and vulgar wealth, a name?
Is it a weary struggle and mean strife
For earth's low gauds, ambitions, or for fame?
What sow we for? The world? for fleeting time?
Or far-off harvests, grander, more sublime?
Is it success, and vulgar wealth, a name?
Is it a weary struggle and mean strife
For earth's low gauds, ambitions, or for fame?
What sow we for? The world? for fleeting time?
Or far-off harvests, grander, more sublime?
The brightest life on earth was one of loss,
The noblest brow was crowned with sharpest thorn,
Has not this consecrated pain, the Cross?
What higher crown can Christian brows adorn?
Be we content to follow on the road
Which men count failure, but which leads to God.
The noblest brow was crowned with sharpest thorn,
Has not this consecrated pain, the Cross?
What higher crown can Christian brows adorn?
Be we content to follow on the road
Which men count failure, but which leads to God.
| Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell | |