The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 | II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
249
I.
251
I. BLUE-BELLS
“One day, one day, I'll climb that distant hill
And pick the blue-bells there!”
So dreamed the child who lived beside the rill
And breathed the lowland air.
“One day, one day, when I am old I'll go
And climb the mountain where the blue-bells blow!”
And pick the blue-bells there!”
So dreamed the child who lived beside the rill
And breathed the lowland air.
“One day, one day, when I am old I'll go
And climb the mountain where the blue-bells blow!”
One day! One day! The child was now a maid,
A girl with laughing look;
She and her lover sought the valley-glade
Where sang the silver brook.
“One day,” she said, “love, you and I will go
And reach that far hill where the blue-bells blow!”
A girl with laughing look;
She and her lover sought the valley-glade
Where sang the silver brook.
“One day,” she said, “love, you and I will go
And reach that far hill where the blue-bells blow!”
252
Years passed. A woman now with wearier eyes
Gazed towards that sunlit hill.
Tall children clustered round her. How time flies!
The blue-bells blossomed still.
She'll never gather them! All dreams fade so.
We live and die, and still the blue-bells blow.
Gazed towards that sunlit hill.
Tall children clustered round her. How time flies!
The blue-bells blossomed still.
She'll never gather them! All dreams fade so.
We live and die, and still the blue-bells blow.
253
II. THE TOURNAMENT
The trumpets' blare
Rings through the air:
The glittering lists are bright with sword and shield.
A hundred gallant knights,
Known in a thousand fights,
Mix and engage upon the mimic field.
But one towers o'er them all,
A noble knight and tall,
With giant form in armour black concealed.
Rings through the air:
The glittering lists are bright with sword and shield.
A hundred gallant knights,
Known in a thousand fights,
Mix and engage upon the mimic field.
But one towers o'er them all,
A noble knight and tall,
With giant form in armour black concealed.
In vain, in vain,
The thick blows rain,—
He dreams of her whose heart has wrought him wrong.
With little heed of all,
He lets the swift strokes fall:
His war-horse steers a way with onset strong.
He gazes up above:
Where is his lady-love?
He marks her not amid the courtly throng.
The thick blows rain,—
He dreams of her whose heart has wrought him wrong.
With little heed of all,
He lets the swift strokes fall:
254
He gazes up above:
Where is his lady-love?
He marks her not amid the courtly throng.
And yet at last,
When hope was past,
Flashed on his eyes the wondrous eyes he sought.
She wore his colours too,
White, twined with tender blue—
“She loves!” His strength rushed on him at the thought.
Then knight on knight fell low:
Aye, always it is so!
By woman's hand a true knight's sword is wrought.
When hope was past,
Flashed on his eyes the wondrous eyes he sought.
She wore his colours too,
White, twined with tender blue—
“She loves!” His strength rushed on him at the thought.
Then knight on knight fell low:
Aye, always it is so!
By woman's hand a true knight's sword is wrought.
255
III. CHRISTMAS FAIRIES
Ah! dear old Christmas-tides of long ago.
Around the creaking roof-tops roared the blast:
The streets and hills and fields were draped in snow;
Across the ice the glittering skates shot past.
Youth was not dead!
Bright green and red
The holly-leaves and holly-berries gleamed.
The merry church-bells rang;
Our young hearts laughed and sang;
Of joyous years to come our spirits dreamed.
Around the creaking roof-tops roared the blast:
The streets and hills and fields were draped in snow;
Across the ice the glittering skates shot past.
Youth was not dead!
Bright green and red
The holly-leaves and holly-berries gleamed.
The merry church-bells rang;
Our young hearts laughed and sang;
Of joyous years to come our spirits dreamed.
But years to come bring trouble and despair.
If childhood brings its simple dream of joy
Youth brings love's holier dream, a dream more fair
Than dreams which haunt the bright heart of the boy.
But all dreams melt
As soon as felt,—
They fade into the mist of things unseen.
Youth's dream of love, alas!
Must likewise pale and pass:
Sweet love must be as if it had not been.
If childhood brings its simple dream of joy
Youth brings love's holier dream, a dream more fair
Than dreams which haunt the bright heart of the boy.
But all dreams melt
As soon as felt,—
256
Youth's dream of love, alas!
Must likewise pale and pass:
Sweet love must be as if it had not been.
And yet—the holly-berries still are bright;
The bells chime merrily across the snow:
A thousand Christmas-trees will give delight,
Green as the Christmas-trees of long ago.
Why are we sad?
The young are glad;
They dance around the fir-tree hand in hand.
Outside, white miles of snow:
Inside, the red fire's glow
And children's smiles and dreams of fairy-land.
The bells chime merrily across the snow:
A thousand Christmas-trees will give delight,
Green as the Christmas-trees of long ago.
Why are we sad?
The young are glad;
They dance around the fir-tree hand in hand.
Outside, white miles of snow:
Inside, the red fire's glow
And children's smiles and dreams of fairy-land.
257
IV. TWO NIGHTS
Last night he kissed my hair, and kissed my face,
And laughed, and praised my figure's supple grace.
My soul was dazzled as with sudden flame:
Star behind star my sweet star-bridesmaids came:
To-night, to-night,
No soft starlight,
But gloom profound that veils the heaven and sea.
And laughed, and praised my figure's supple grace.
My soul was dazzled as with sudden flame:
Star behind star my sweet star-bridesmaids came:
To-night, to-night,
No soft starlight,
But gloom profound that veils the heaven and sea.
Last night the world was full of light and fire:
Star throbbed to star, and burned with sweet desire
There was no heaven—for earth was heaven instead!
No immortality,—for death was dead!
To-night, to-night,
Dead is delight,
And pain awakes and lives eternally.
Star throbbed to star, and burned with sweet desire
There was no heaven—for earth was heaven instead!
No immortality,—for death was dead!
To-night, to-night,
Dead is delight,
And pain awakes and lives eternally.
258
Last night I thought before God's throne I stood
And knew, knew once for all, that God was good.
To-night how vast a darkness clothes me round:
I madden for love's footfall. Not a sound!—
Last night, last night,
My love took flight:
Cloud sobs to cloud, and whispers, “Where is he?”
And knew, knew once for all, that God was good.
To-night how vast a darkness clothes me round:
I madden for love's footfall. Not a sound!—
Last night, last night,
My love took flight:
Cloud sobs to cloud, and whispers, “Where is he?”
259
V. LOVE'S ETERNITY
Love's early honey-moon is passing sweet.
The enraptured lovers wander hand in hand
Through the wild roses and the golden wheat,
And passion's glamour clothes the sea and land.
Her eyes outvie
The starlit sky:
Love is so full of light that nought else gleams.
Love would give light,
Were the world black as night!
Love would create its heaven of stars and dreams!
The enraptured lovers wander hand in hand
Through the wild roses and the golden wheat,
And passion's glamour clothes the sea and land.
Her eyes outvie
The starlit sky:
Love is so full of light that nought else gleams.
Love would give light,
Were the world black as night!
Love would create its heaven of stars and dreams!
Then come maturer days. Glad children glance—
Upon the tree of life love's blossoms blow.
And yet some element of old romance
Has vanished, melted in the long ago!
The husband says,
“Think of the days
When hand in hand we wandered, you and I;
The nights of June;
The marvel of the moon:
In later days must love's old glory die?”
Upon the tree of life love's blossoms blow.
And yet some element of old romance
Has vanished, melted in the long ago!
The husband says,
“Think of the days
260
The nights of June;
The marvel of the moon:
In later days must love's old glory die?”
But with the voice that charmed his heart of old
And made the whole of life one moonlit dream
The true wife answers, “Life's tale is not told:
In front of us new starlit skies will gleam.
When toil is o'er,
Love as before
Will find us, sweetheart, claim us for his own.
Love's autumn day,
Aye! though our hair be grey,
Shall match the sweetness of our summer flown.”
And made the whole of life one moonlit dream
The true wife answers, “Life's tale is not told:
In front of us new starlit skies will gleam.
When toil is o'er,
Love as before
Will find us, sweetheart, claim us for his own.
Love's autumn day,
Aye! though our hair be grey,
Shall match the sweetness of our summer flown.”
261
VI. MIDNIGHT AT THE HELM
“What see'st thou, friend?
The frail masts bend,
Thy ship reels wildly on the tossing deep;
Thy fearless eyes
Regard the skies
And this broad waste wherethrough white chargers leap;
See'st thou the foam?”
Pilot.—
The frail masts bend,
Thy ship reels wildly on the tossing deep;
Thy fearless eyes
Regard the skies
And this broad waste wherethrough white chargers leap;
See'st thou the foam?”
“I see my home,
And children on a white soft couch asleep.”
And children on a white soft couch asleep.”
“What see'st thou, friend?
The tiller-end
Thou graspest safely in thy firm strong grip;
Thine eyes are strange,
They seem to range
Beyond sea, sky, and cloud, and struggling ship,
Beyond the foam.”
The tiller-end
Thou graspest safely in thy firm strong grip;
Thine eyes are strange,
They seem to range
262
Beyond the foam.”
Pilot.—
“I see my home,—
Brown cottage-eaves round which the swallows dip.”
Brown cottage-eaves round which the swallows dip.”
“What see'st thou, friend?
Black leagues extend
On all sides round about thy bark and thee;
Not one star-speck
Above the deck
Abates the darkness of the midnight sea;
The waves' throats roar—”
Black leagues extend
On all sides round about thy bark and thee;
Not one star-speck
Above the deck
Abates the darkness of the midnight sea;
The waves' throats roar—”
Pilot.—
“I see the shore,
And eyes that plead with God for mine and me.”
And eyes that plead with God for mine and me.”
263
VII. THE GHOST AT THE WHEEL
Off Beachy Head the vessel wrestles hard:
In vain the captain's eyes would pierce the gloom.
The great grim cliffs, foam-belted, iron-barred,
Through the wild wreaths of scudding sea-fog loom.
No stars shine out.
Put helm about?
Nay! this one ship will hold her lonely way!
Though death be near,
Her captain's deaf to fear:
His voice out-thunders wind and hissing spray.
In vain the captain's eyes would pierce the gloom.
The great grim cliffs, foam-belted, iron-barred,
Through the wild wreaths of scudding sea-fog loom.
No stars shine out.
Put helm about?
Nay! this one ship will hold her lonely way!
Though death be near,
Her captain's deaf to fear:
His voice out-thunders wind and hissing spray.
Yet at the rudder, see this lurid light!
A form takes shape amid the wind and spray:
A white face glitters through the jet-black night.
Why falls the captain on his knees to pray?
His brother's form
Shines through the storm,
His brother drowned where these same mad waves flow
Round Beachy Head:
The strong man shakes in dread:
When dead men steer, where will the doomed ship go?
A form takes shape amid the wind and spray:
A white face glitters through the jet-black night.
Why falls the captain on his knees to pray?
His brother's form
Shines through the storm,
264
Round Beachy Head:
The strong man shakes in dread:
When dead men steer, where will the doomed ship go?
The dead man steered. The labouring ship veered round.
The awe-struck sailors watched without a word.
The waves and threatening thunder ceased to sound:
You might have caught the carol of a bird.
Then slowly grew
The sky pale-blue;
Morn showed that when the spectre took command,
Ten yards away
Were deadly reefs and spray:
Love outlasts death, and aids with living hand.
The awe-struck sailors watched without a word.
The waves and threatening thunder ceased to sound:
You might have caught the carol of a bird.
Then slowly grew
The sky pale-blue;
Morn showed that when the spectre took command,
Ten yards away
Were deadly reefs and spray:
Love outlasts death, and aids with living hand.
265
VIII. THE SENTRY
Along his path the sentry paces slow;
Above the field of battle soars the moon:
The night is silent, save for wailing low
Of wounded men who will be silent soon.
The sentry stands
With ready hands
And eyes that peer far out into the gloom.
The hostile hosts,
Like groups of ghosts,
Upon the distant shadowy hill-tops loom.
Above the field of battle soars the moon:
The night is silent, save for wailing low
Of wounded men who will be silent soon.
The sentry stands
With ready hands
And eyes that peer far out into the gloom.
The hostile hosts,
Like groups of ghosts,
Upon the distant shadowy hill-tops loom.
But not on these the soldier's gaze is set;
His heart is gazing elsewhere than his eyes.
He sees a garden sweet with mignonette;
He hears a voice that to his own replies.
O'er leagues of sea
In thought flies he;
He stands beside a window wreathed with rose.
Sweet eyes of blue,
Pure, soft, and true,
Gaze in his own, till his heart overflows.
His heart is gazing elsewhere than his eyes.
He sees a garden sweet with mignonette;
He hears a voice that to his own replies.
O'er leagues of sea
In thought flies he;
266
Sweet eyes of blue,
Pure, soft, and true,
Gaze in his own, till his heart overflows.
Ha! guns flash out. The dream is over then.
The vision vanishes. It melts away.
Lo! plumes, and neighing steeds, and throngs of men,
And rattling rifles, in the morning grey.
No cottage door—
Mad guns that roar!
No tender glance from maiden's loving eyes.
Yet pity not
A soldier's lot:
He well has loved, who for his country dies.
The vision vanishes. It melts away.
Lo! plumes, and neighing steeds, and throngs of men,
And rattling rifles, in the morning grey.
No cottage door—
Mad guns that roar!
No tender glance from maiden's loving eyes.
Yet pity not
A soldier's lot:
He well has loved, who for his country dies.
267
IX. THE ENGINE DRIVER
Through sleet and snow
The wild wheels go:
Across waste wolds with purple heather bright,
O'er many a bridge,
Through tunnelled ridge,
Flinging weird fires along the startled night,
The engine flies,—
And one man's steady eyes
And hands must guide the thundering force aright.
The wild wheels go:
Across waste wolds with purple heather bright,
O'er many a bridge,
Through tunnelled ridge,
Flinging weird fires along the startled night,
The engine flies,—
And one man's steady eyes
And hands must guide the thundering force aright.
What trust we place
In that one face,
In those stern lips and dauntless hands that steer:
Bridegroom and bride
Sit side by side,
And trust their lives to him without a fear.
Through sun and snow
The flashing wild wheels go:
He guides those flashing wheels from year to year.
In that one face,
In those stern lips and dauntless hands that steer:
Bridegroom and bride
Sit side by side,
268
Through sun and snow
The flashing wild wheels go:
He guides those flashing wheels from year to year.
Through storm and sun
The wild wheels run;
Blue skies o'erhead, or murky midnight gloom:
Through summer showers,
Past woodbine—bowers,
Past steep banks yellowed with soft primrose-bloom.
Yet one man's skill
Makes the end good or ill:
He holds the keys of pleasure—or the tomb!
The wild wheels run;
Blue skies o'erhead, or murky midnight gloom:
Through summer showers,
Past woodbine—bowers,
Past steep banks yellowed with soft primrose-bloom.
Yet one man's skill
Makes the end good or ill:
He holds the keys of pleasure—or the tomb!
269
X. ON THE RAMPARTS
The gold sun sets above the solemn sands;
The strained sight aches across the yellow sea:
In front, around, the solitude expands,
Grim, terrible, devoid of flower or tree.
The waste seems dead;
No line of red
Upon the horizon brings the city cheer.
Fierce foes surround;
Their trumpets sound;
No answering English bugle-note rings clear.
The strained sight aches across the yellow sea:
In front, around, the solitude expands,
Grim, terrible, devoid of flower or tree.
The waste seems dead;
No line of red
Upon the horizon brings the city cheer.
Fierce foes surround;
Their trumpets sound;
No answering English bugle-note rings clear.
Upon the ramparts lo! one paces slow;
From time to time he gazes o'er the sands:
If morning brings not help, all hope must go.
He lifts to silent heaven strong urgent hands.
Is help not nigh,
O starlit sky
And Eastern moon whose white orb glitters past?
Black looms the night.
No help in sight!
Must the beleaguered city fall at last?
From time to time he gazes o'er the sands:
If morning brings not help, all hope must go.
He lifts to silent heaven strong urgent hands.
Is help not nigh,
O starlit sky
270
Black looms the night.
No help in sight!
Must the beleaguered city fall at last?
Morning! The thin mist rises in the air:
Not yet the great sun flashes from the sky.
That grim and silent watcher still is there.
To-day must bring relief, or all must die.
Gaze once again
Across the plain:
One last wild look, for now the sun shines clear.
Ha! bayonets gleam;
It is no dream;
Our England's help can reach us even here!
Not yet the great sun flashes from the sky.
That grim and silent watcher still is there.
To-day must bring relief, or all must die.
Gaze once again
Across the plain:
One last wild look, for now the sun shines clear.
Ha! bayonets gleam;
It is no dream;
Our England's help can reach us even here!
271
XI. THE EXPLORER
Through forests deep,
Where serpents creep,
The fearless strong explorer threads his way:
'Neath tropic moons,
Past dim lagoons,
Depths where the sun can never send a ray.
His life is in his hand:
He treads the burning sand:
His labour ceases not from day to day.
Where serpents creep,
The fearless strong explorer threads his way:
'Neath tropic moons,
Past dim lagoons,
Depths where the sun can never send a ray.
His life is in his hand:
He treads the burning sand:
His labour ceases not from day to day.
And yet at night
His soul takes flight:
He seeks another country in his dreams.
He wanders through
Lanes fresh with dew
And cornfields where the scarlet poppy gleams.
He sees the spotted trout
From the dark bank flash out:
He sees green willows fringing English streams.
His soul takes flight:
He seeks another country in his dreams.
He wanders through
Lanes fresh with dew
272
He sees the spotted trout
From the dark bank flash out:
He sees green willows fringing English streams.
At morn he wakes:
His road he takes:—
Upon mud-banks vast crocodiles repose.
The trout's quick gleam
Was but a dream:
The poppy was a dream, a dream the rose!
Yet England's viewless might,
Stretching through day and night,
Follows wherever English valour goes.
His road he takes:—
Upon mud-banks vast crocodiles repose.
The trout's quick gleam
Was but a dream:
The poppy was a dream, a dream the rose!
Yet England's viewless might,
Stretching through day and night,
Follows wherever English valour goes.
273
XII. THE BURNING SHIP
The transport ship pursues its lonely way
Across the purple moonlit Indian deep.
Above, the stars shine out with tender ray:
The waveless far-spread ocean seems asleep.
All, all was well,
When evening fell,
And well at sunrise all shall surely be.
There's nought to fear!
Steer, keen-eyed helmsman, steer,—
Steer the great ship across the silent sea!
Across the purple moonlit Indian deep.
Above, the stars shine out with tender ray:
The waveless far-spread ocean seems asleep.
All, all was well,
When evening fell,
And well at sunrise all shall surely be.
There's nought to fear!
Steer, keen-eyed helmsman, steer,—
Steer the great ship across the silent sea!
But ah! what piteous sudden cry rings out?
“Fire!”—“Fire!” again.—Oh, can this dread thing be?
Yes, once again the wild heart-rending shout
Troubles the bosom of the peaceful sea.
“Fire!”—Red flames rise
And stain the skies:
The fire spreads o'er the sails, and licks the mast.
The ship's consumed!
The passengers are doomed:
Each agonizing moment seems their last.
“Fire!”—“Fire!” again.—Oh, can this dread thing be?
Yes, once again the wild heart-rending shout
Troubles the bosom of the peaceful sea.
“Fire!”—Red flames rise
And stain the skies:
274
The ship's consumed!
The passengers are doomed:
Each agonizing moment seems their last.
But ah! the steady soldiers form in lines:
Athwart the fire the regiment's old flag floats.
The fire upon men's fearless faces shines:
The sailors pass the women to the boats.
The boats recede;
Wild eyes give heed—
Their death-watch on the deck the soldiers keep.
One strange last cheer,
Which England's heart shall hear—
And then the sun rose on a sail-less deep.
Athwart the fire the regiment's old flag floats.
The fire upon men's fearless faces shines:
The sailors pass the women to the boats.
The boats recede;
Wild eyes give heed—
Their death-watch on the deck the soldiers keep.
One strange last cheer,
Which England's heart shall hear—
And then the sun rose on a sail-less deep.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |