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107
THINKERS AMONG MEN.
109
Carlyle.
CHELSEA, FEBRUARY 5TH, 1881.
Thro' mist and gloom, indignant and alone,
He nursed his heart's great fire, he spake his lore;
Death smoothed at last the lines that sorrow wore,
And nations mourned a master spirit gone.
Of all our prophet saviours, last but one,
Breaker of idols, stern-voiced counsellor,
Shall England hear thy Doric phrase no more,
Hear and obey the village craftsman's son.
He nursed his heart's great fire, he spake his lore;
Death smoothed at last the lines that sorrow wore,
And nations mourned a master spirit gone.
Of all our prophet saviours, last but one,
Breaker of idols, stern-voiced counsellor,
Shall England hear thy Doric phrase no more,
Hear and obey the village craftsman's son.
Nay, long as Thames shall roll toward the Town
Its gathered freshness from a thousand vales
To pass in sorrow on towards the sea,
His words of truth shall sound tho' tyrants frown,
His courage keep us when our courage fails,
His sadness to our gladness strength shall be.
Its gathered freshness from a thousand vales
To pass in sorrow on towards the sea,
His words of truth shall sound tho' tyrants frown,
His courage keep us when our courage fails,
His sadness to our gladness strength shall be.
110
Thomas Hill Green.
OXFORD, MARCH 26TH, 1882.
Hushed be the bells of all his city towers,
We need no sound to swell the deep “alas!”
Let Isis move unsobbing thro' the grass,
The sun shine still upon the Nuneham flowers.
He was of those rare hearts whom nature dowers
With unassuming quietude, his glass
Turned all reflection inwards, men might pass
Nor know the depth and splendour of his powers.
We need no sound to swell the deep “alas!”
Let Isis move unsobbing thro' the grass,
The sun shine still upon the Nuneham flowers.
He was of those rare hearts whom nature dowers
With unassuming quietude, his glass
Turned all reflection inwards, men might pass
Nor know the depth and splendour of his powers.
Hew him of granite, granite was his mind,
Give him the sword, for trenchant was his thrust,
And cast these purblind late philosophies
Prone at his feet who trod them into dust.
Then write him, “Patriot that no bribes could blind,
Prophet of Truth, sure Teacher of the Wise.”
Give him the sword, for trenchant was his thrust,
And cast these purblind late philosophies
Prone at his feet who trod them into dust.
Then write him, “Patriot that no bribes could blind,
Prophet of Truth, sure Teacher of the Wise.”
111
Dr. John Brown.
DIED AT EDINBURGH, MAY 11TH, 1882.
Lanark, the sun upon thy moors had power
To sow a human heart with golden seed.
And heard in distance, tenderly, the Tweed
Nursed with its dews an everlasting flower
Of such exceeding radiance, such a dower
Of genial blessing, such a heavenly breed,
That where it bloomed all other seemed but weed,
And barren waste became an angel's bower.
To sow a human heart with golden seed.
And heard in distance, tenderly, the Tweed
Nursed with its dews an everlasting flower
Of such exceeding radiance, such a dower
Of genial blessing, such a heavenly breed,
That where it bloomed all other seemed but weed,
And barren waste became an angel's bower.
Nor vainly did the pastor's large-eyed child
Race with the collie, learn the shepherd's stride,
And bear the yeanling in his plaid: who, grown,
Gave audience to each creature's voice that cried,
Carried his brother's burdens with his own
And left the sick ones whole because he smiled.
Race with the collie, learn the shepherd's stride,
And bear the yeanling in his plaid: who, grown,
Gave audience to each creature's voice that cried,
Carried his brother's burdens with his own
And left the sick ones whole because he smiled.
112
John Richard Green.
1837–1883.
[_]
The inscription upon the marble slab in the cemetery of Mentone concludes with the words:—“He died learning.”
So die we all, the sun o'er Agal's height
That sinks unto its setting could not know
How this high terraced rock of rest would glow
With glory unimagined, how its light
Would pierce the cypress shadow, and make bright
As molten gold these pillars white as snow
That guard the marble whose dark letters show,
Here lies the learner who could read aright
That sinks unto its setting could not know
How this high terraced rock of rest would glow
With glory unimagined, how its light
Would pierce the cypress shadow, and make bright
As molten gold these pillars white as snow
That guard the marble whose dark letters show,
Here lies the learner who could read aright
The story of our England. Souls like thine,
Truth seeker! glad to learn as glad to teach,
So keen in quest for knowledge, so sincere,
These having learned earth's simple letters here,
See at life's sunset nobler light can shine,
Find Heaven's full wisdom, speak with angel speech.
Truth seeker! glad to learn as glad to teach,
So keen in quest for knowledge, so sincere,
These having learned earth's simple letters here,
See at life's sunset nobler light can shine,
Find Heaven's full wisdom, speak with angel speech.
113
Dr. Döllinger.
JANUARY 10TH, 1890.
Pure-hearted servant of the Living God,
Sure scholar, trained by Truth's unswerving hand,
High leader of high Love's triumphant band,—
Christ you obeyed but not his “Vicar's” nod:
Silent you kissed the inevitable rod,
Owned no soul-quenching hierarch's demand,
And passed for Faith, Faith's exile thro' the land,
Nor chose the easier way unreason trod.
Sure scholar, trained by Truth's unswerving hand,
High leader of high Love's triumphant band,—
Christ you obeyed but not his “Vicar's” nod:
Silent you kissed the inevitable rod,
Owned no soul-quenching hierarch's demand,
And passed for Faith, Faith's exile thro' the land,
Nor chose the easier way unreason trod.
Clouds came between, and death, with cloudier bar,
Has come, but round your sovran Sun, in light,
Turns the true soul that set so many free:
Still as for dawn above a troublous sea
To you men yearn: yea, in her darkest night
The church that scorned shall hail your guiding star!
Has come, but round your sovran Sun, in light,
Turns the true soul that set so many free:
Still as for dawn above a troublous sea
To you men yearn: yea, in her darkest night
The church that scorned shall hail your guiding star!
114
Lord Justice General Inglis.
AUGUST 20TH, 1891.
The corn was yellow by the Lowland braes,
The Highland heather purple on the hill,
When he our nation honoured for his skill,
And store of mellow wisdom, whom we praise
For justice and for judgment—strong to raise
A standard to reflect the Almighty's will,
Bowed his grey head, and fearing nothing ill
Bore to God's Hall of Judgment all his days
Of fulness and endeavour. Lead him in,
Ye powers of gentle innocence! Give place,
Ye angels sworn to righteousness! His mind
Cared for the moulding of a righteous race;
He judged men's deeds, to Heaven he left the sin,
And blessed with wise benevolence his kind.
115
Sir George Airy, K.C.B.
DIED JANUARY 2ND, 1892, IN HIS 91ST YEAR.
For full three generations had he known
Sunlight and starlight, then at last there came
An angel with a chariot of flame,
And he went forth thro' stellar spaces sown
Thick with the seed of suns, beyond the cone
Of planetary systems none might name,
Till new light dazed him, and he heard acclaim
Of praise around the great Creator's throne.
Sunlight and starlight, then at last there came
An angel with a chariot of flame,
And he went forth thro' stellar spaces sown
Thick with the seed of suns, beyond the cone
Of planetary systems none might name,
Till new light dazed him, and he heard acclaim
Of praise around the great Creator's throne.
He stood and bowed his head before the light
Those only see whose hearts are pure and blest
With child-like love and reverence, then he cried—
“Though never more can come the purple night
With wondrous gleam of worlds, here let me rest.
Thee, Lord, I sought, my soul is satisfied.”
Those only see whose hearts are pure and blest
With child-like love and reverence, then he cried—
“Though never more can come the purple night
With wondrous gleam of worlds, here let me rest.
Thee, Lord, I sought, my soul is satisfied.”
116
John Couch Adams.
THE ENGLISH DISCOVERER OF THE PLANET NEPTUNE. DIED AT CAMBRIDGE, JANUARY 21ST, 1892.
God stretched His jewelled splendour far and wideAbove the Cornish moorlands, there He met
A boy, and from dark fallows dewy-wet
Bade him look up. He, scholar grown, espied
The wandering of lone Uranus, and plied
Star-quest in heights abysmal, till his net
Of calculations intricate had set
Sure, but unseen, far Neptune at the side
Of that perturbéd planet. Then was hurled
Space from its throne, and distance was enchained,
And mind flung back the gates of ultimate gloom—
But little said the seeker, he who gained
Glory for England in his narrow room,
Wherein he searched the Heavens and found a world.
117
R. L. Nettleship.
DIED ON MOUNT BLANC, AUGUST 25TH, 1892.
When God from off life's perilous slope doth call
His men of humble heart to go up higher,
He sends for this the chariot wheels of fire,
For that the torrent thundering to the fall,
Snow-avalanche, ice-plumed wings of storm; and all
Who hear the dreadful courier coming nigher
Sink into silence, leave their last desire
Dumb before One who holdeth speech in thrall.
His men of humble heart to go up higher,
He sends for this the chariot wheels of fire,
For that the torrent thundering to the fall,
Snow-avalanche, ice-plumed wings of storm; and all
Who hear the dreadful courier coming nigher
Sink into silence, leave their last desire
Dumb before One who holdeth speech in thrall.
But this brave soul of pure unselfishness
Sang till the dawn to cheer his comrade band,
Then marched right on to death upon the height,
And, since in alien tongue he needs must bless,
Reached dying hands with longing infinite
Which spake farewells that all might understand.
Sang till the dawn to cheer his comrade band,
Then marched right on to death upon the height,
And, since in alien tongue he needs must bless,
Reached dying hands with longing infinite
Which spake farewells that all might understand.
Through the terrible night of anxiety in the snow-pit on the Dome de Gouter the guides related how Mr. Nettleship kept up their courage and prevented them from falling asleep by constantly singing snatches of song to them. When in his brave desperate attempt to escape on the following morning, the cold and storm overwhelmed him—he stretched out his hands to his guides and speaking to them in a language they could not understand, shook them warmly by the hand, they thought that he thus wished to convey to them that he did not blame them for his death.
118
Renan.
OBIIT, PARIS, OCTOBER 2ND, 1892.
Renan is gone, we shall not see him more,
That massive face, those eyes of twinkling grey,
The prince of cynics—he has passed away
Who rich in wisdom made his brothers poor:
He, entering the inevitable door,
Has heard the truth that never can betray
Crying:—“Behold your puppets at a play
Are living souls upon no phantom shore.”
That massive face, those eyes of twinkling grey,
The prince of cynics—he has passed away
Who rich in wisdom made his brothers poor:
He, entering the inevitable door,
Has heard the truth that never can betray
Crying:—“Behold your puppets at a play
Are living souls upon no phantom shore.”
For now at length is variance reconciled
Between the reason and the faith of man,
The double soul that so perplexed his life
Has ceased from irremediable strife,
The Christ he dwarfed fills out to godlike span,
The God he doubted claims again his child.
Between the reason and the faith of man,
The double soul that so perplexed his life
Has ceased from irremediable strife,
The Christ he dwarfed fills out to godlike span,
The God he doubted claims again his child.
119
Sir Richard Owen.
DECEMBER 18TH, 1892.
He saw the light on Morecambe's golden sands,
The crooked Lune ran silver to the main,
And he went seawards, but his soul was fain
By helm of thought to seek for other lands
And sound the deep of knowledge. To his hands
Earth gave primeval secrets, o'er the plain
Flew bat-winged pterodactyls, once again
Through swamp and ooze the Saurian pushed in bands.
The crooked Lune ran silver to the main,
And he went seawards, but his soul was fain
By helm of thought to seek for other lands
And sound the deep of knowledge. To his hands
Earth gave primeval secrets, o'er the plain
Flew bat-winged pterodactyls, once again
Through swamp and ooze the Saurian pushed in bands.
Revealer of the times of tooth and claw,
He filled the world with dragons; bone by bone
Guessed at the bird Dinornis great and grim,
But as he listened to the blackbird's hymn
He heard a prophet voice, an angel tone
Sing of a higher life with Love for Law.
He filled the world with dragons; bone by bone
Guessed at the bird Dinornis great and grim,
But as he listened to the blackbird's hymn
He heard a prophet voice, an angel tone
Sing of a higher life with Love for Law.
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