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130
POEMS OF STUDY AND EXPERIENCE.
131
KOSMOS.
Of dust the primal Adam came
In wondrous sequency evolved,
With speech that gave creation name,
Of art and artist never solved.
In wondrous sequency evolved,
With speech that gave creation name,
Of art and artist never solved.
With something of a mother-pang
The Sun conceived the starry spheres
That from her burning bosom sprang,—
Immortal children of her tears.
The Sun conceived the starry spheres
That from her burning bosom sprang,—
Immortal children of her tears.
From height of heat, and stress of span,
The measured Earth took poise and hold;
And beasts, the prophecy of man,
And man, were latent in her mould.
The measured Earth took poise and hold;
And beasts, the prophecy of man,
And man, were latent in her mould.
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And hid in man a world intense,
The centre point of things that be,
With soul that conquers out of sense
Its incomplete divinity.
The centre point of things that be,
With soul that conquers out of sense
Its incomplete divinity.
Around one infinite intent
All power and inspiration move,
Thrilling with light the firmament,
Lifting the heart of man with love.
All power and inspiration move,
Thrilling with light the firmament,
Lifting the heart of man with love.
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FIRST CAUSES.
“We need no God,” the Atheist said;
“The World is wound, and set to go:
How it was wound we do now know;
But go it will when we are dead.
“The World is wound, and set to go:
How it was wound we do now know;
But go it will when we are dead.
You question me as one who pleads
To keep his ancient faith with tears:
In this our harmlessness appears,—
We rob no nature of its needs.
To keep his ancient faith with tears:
In this our harmlessness appears,—
We rob no nature of its needs.
The weak, for whom a God must be,
Will hold the apt invention still,
While from the arbitrary will
We and the hardier souls are free.”
Will hold the apt invention still,
While from the arbitrary will
We and the hardier souls are free.”
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Like one who in the dark would walk
Where men by day securely tread,
And stumbles with uneasy dread,
The Atheist blundered in his talk.
Where men by day securely tread,
And stumbles with uneasy dread,
The Atheist blundered in his talk.
Now from my window I survey
This amphitheatre of peace,
Where moon and stars, without surcease,
Nightly present their heavenly play.
This amphitheatre of peace,
Where moon and stars, without surcease,
Nightly present their heavenly play.
I see the beauteous drama wrought;
Its acts and interludes I trace:
I need not seek the Author's face,
Whose spirit visits me unsought.
Its acts and interludes I trace:
I need not seek the Author's face,
Whose spirit visits me unsought.
And what that need, both old and new,
The eternal need of human-kind?
Not that we keep a fable blind:
It is that thou, dear God, be true.
The eternal need of human-kind?
Not that we keep a fable blind:
It is that thou, dear God, be true.
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KENYON'S LEGACY.
Good Johnny Kenyon's gone and done
The best thing with his money:
He's left it for two Poet-Bees,
Who make the wasp-world honey.
The best thing with his money:
He's left it for two Poet-Bees,
Who make the wasp-world honey.
Unthrifty work,—a world has wants,
A market-man provides it;
Small wages has the working bee,
Or the good God who guides it.
A market-man provides it;
Small wages has the working bee,
Or the good God who guides it.
But Kenyon knew the market-men,
And so bestowed his money,
That our two rifled Bees might live
From henceforth on their honey.
And so bestowed his money,
That our two rifled Bees might live
From henceforth on their honey.
[OMITTED]
143
In Casa Guidi, where they dwell,
They keep the tea-pot waiting:
The precious vapor spends itself
For their poetic prating.
They keep the tea-pot waiting:
The precious vapor spends itself
For their poetic prating.
I know a Western dame who keeps
The villa styled Negroni,
And whose well-regulated cups
Are hot to friend and crony.
The villa styled Negroni,
And whose well-regulated cups
Are hot to friend and crony.
She says our poets enter like
A church who brings his steeple;
With visions of the gods they praise,
They yawn at common people.
A church who brings his steeple;
With visions of the gods they praise,
They yawn at common people.
When they in turn invite at home,
The chairs are queer and rotten,
The board is bare, the talk divine,
The tea-pot long forgotten.
The chairs are queer and rotten,
The board is bare, the talk divine,
The tea-pot long forgotten.
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John Kenyon was an Englishman,
And understood the duty
England expects from English wives,
Who stand for thrift and beauty.
And understood the duty
England expects from English wives,
Who stand for thrift and beauty.
He did not score it in his will,
For that had been ungracious;
He told it not by word of mouth,—
Dependence thrice fallacious.
For that had been ungracious;
He told it not by word of mouth,—
Dependence thrice fallacious.
“'Tis in the fitness of the thing,
And they, be sure, will feel it;
Or else some medial-rapping friend
For sixpence may reveal it.
And they, be sure, will feel it;
Or else some medial-rapping friend
For sixpence may reveal it.
Aurora! dry your pen at night;
Repose shall help your dreaming;
Enjoy your victuals from this hour,
And keep your tea-pot steaming.”
Repose shall help your dreaming;
Enjoy your victuals from this hour,
And keep your tea-pot steaming.”
[OMITTED]
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Like those long-exiled Empire-bees,
Who now, to fortune coming,
Poise on the topmost bough, and fill
Your Europe with their humming;
Who now, to fortune coming,
Poise on the topmost bough, and fill
Your Europe with their humming;
So may you, gold-emblazoned, rest
On velvet pall and mantle,
Or where luxurious drapings hide
Time's monitors ungentle.
On velvet pall and mantle,
Or where luxurious drapings hide
Time's monitors ungentle.
Or better, build a crystal hive,
With this remembrance sunny:
“One good man helps the bankrupt world
To pay our priceless honey.”
With this remembrance sunny:
“One good man helps the bankrupt world
To pay our priceless honey.”
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TO ONE WHO LIES IN FLORENCE.
Shower lilies from the skies
Where our lovely Ladye lies!
Birds of more than mortal tune,
Soothe her rest by night and noon;
Angel loves be softly told
O'er her consecrated mould;
Hearts that noblest strive and mean
At her shrine their comforts glean.
Where our lovely Ladye lies!
Birds of more than mortal tune,
Soothe her rest by night and noon;
Angel loves be softly told
O'er her consecrated mould;
Hearts that noblest strive and mean
At her shrine their comforts glean.
Neither may the sun despise
To salute her where she lies,
Nodding over woods and water
To Apollo's crownèd daughter,
Christian Sappho she, whose verse
Holy loving souls rehearse
That a benediction seek
Pontiffs have not grace to speak;
To salute her where she lies,
Nodding over woods and water
To Apollo's crownèd daughter,
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Holy loving souls rehearse
That a benediction seek
Pontiffs have not grace to speak;
For her bosom temple sweet
Charity did make complete;
Human passions lost their pride
Ranged before the gentle-eyed;
Sword of meekness pierceth deep,
Bitterest chide the eyes that weep;
And her anger humbled most
Through her pity, never lost.
Charity did make complete;
Human passions lost their pride
Ranged before the gentle-eyed;
Sword of meekness pierceth deep,
Bitterest chide the eyes that weep;
And her anger humbled most
Through her pity, never lost.
Sister, whose fair lot is cast
Where the shadows of the past
And the sunshine of to-day
Interlace on God's highway,
None of all thy joys I'd ask,
Harnessed gladly to my task,
But the parting kiss she gave,
And the pause beside her grave.
Where the shadows of the past
And the sunshine of to-day
Interlace on God's highway,
None of all thy joys I'd ask,
Harnessed gladly to my task,
But the parting kiss she gave,
And the pause beside her grave.
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Scatter lilies from the skies,
Shower tears from angels' eyes,
Who forget not that their joy
Our contentment doth destroy.
Nought of earth so good and fair
That beside her may compare;
Nought of heaven too purely blest
To infold her sinless rest!
Shower tears from angels' eyes,
Who forget not that their joy
Our contentment doth destroy.
Nought of earth so good and fair
That beside her may compare;
Nought of heaven too purely blest
To infold her sinless rest!
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A VICTIM OF TIBERIUS.
What wouldst thou with me, jailer dark and grim?
My father was Sejanus: this his house,
From which they took him darkly, days ago,
Is mine own home, where I have right to dwell.
My father was Sejanus: this his house,
From which they took him darkly, days ago,
Is mine own home, where I have right to dwell.
Where went my father? He was Cæsar s friend.
But, waiting here, I heard the multitude
Shouting his death, which yet I'll not believe.
And, when they forced my brother from my side,
Still as a ghost he went, and came no more.
But, waiting here, I heard the multitude
Shouting his death, which yet I'll not believe.
And, when they forced my brother from my side,
Still as a ghost he went, and came no more.
See my poor toys spread out before the hearth!
It was a mimic sacrifice I made:
This doll was Iphigenia, this the priest;
And here I pierced my finger, to make blood,
Till my nurse chid me. Are you come for that?
I know our pastime may offend the gods;
Know the dark air is full of whispering things
That bear our follies to the ear of those
Whose wrath is strong, and vengeance terrible.
But I'm not wicked: 'twas no deadly rite
Invoking evil chance on man or God,
Or Cæsar, who is both, they say, in one.
If any power have sent you for my faults,
Which I'll confess as quickly as you'll name,
Bid old Camilla take my mother's rod,
(I had a mother,) she can use it well;
And I'll endure it, though I meant no wrong.
It was a mimic sacrifice I made:
This doll was Iphigenia, this the priest;
And here I pierced my finger, to make blood,
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I know our pastime may offend the gods;
Know the dark air is full of whispering things
That bear our follies to the ear of those
Whose wrath is strong, and vengeance terrible.
But I'm not wicked: 'twas no deadly rite
Invoking evil chance on man or God,
Or Cæsar, who is both, they say, in one.
If any power have sent you for my faults,
Which I'll confess as quickly as you'll name,
Bid old Camilla take my mother's rod,
(I had a mother,) she can use it well;
And I'll endure it, though I meant no wrong.
Thou dost not leave me? In thy fearful eyes,
My childhood withers with an instant age.
The marrow of my joints seems long drawn out
Caught on the horror of thy countenance.
Oh! this is like the nightmare that I feared,
Not knowing it could walk abroad by day.
I'd shriek for pity; but my voice is choked,
As if the ashes of the things I love
Stood in my throat to bury utterance.
I must go with thee? Never, while I live.
Ah, pity! by my hair he hurries me
Forth from the palace, through the glaring streets,
That strangely reel, and vanish from my sight.
I see the gods there, black against the sky,
And stiffening with the horror of men's deeds.
The spell that binds my lips is on their hands,
Or they would move to help me. Where is Cæsar?
Now hear this wretch that whispers in mine ear,
“Cæsar will have thy blood.” This gives me strength
To snap the chilly net-work of my fear,
And cry, “Thou liest!” See, the Consul comes!
“O noble man! I clasp thy garment's edge:
Save me as thou wouldst save thy fair-haired girl,
My playmate once.” Tears darkle in his eyes:
Pale, with a stifled curse he turns away;
He cannot aid me. Where the columns range,
The conscript fathers keep the weal of Rome.
Hark to me, fathers,—I am fatherless!
So quick away? Hear, Tyber, then, my cry;
Hear, ye protecting hills! Ah! silent all.
What's this dark vault? and what yon rusted ring
With the noose dangling? Look to thine own fate!
Thou dar'st not slay a virgin. I will tear
Thine eyes with these small fingers ere thou come
A foot's length nearer! Keep away, away,
Thou untold horror! Only touch me not;
And I will twine thy halter round my throat
Like a bright riband on a festal day.
Give me the rope! let my poor bruised hands go,
Seeking the priceless mercy Death can bring.
Oh, come! since thy still feet are waited for
As the last rapture,—sweet, thou com'st too late.
My childhood withers with an instant age.
The marrow of my joints seems long drawn out
Caught on the horror of thy countenance.
Oh! this is like the nightmare that I feared,
Not knowing it could walk abroad by day.
I'd shriek for pity; but my voice is choked,
As if the ashes of the things I love
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I must go with thee? Never, while I live.
Ah, pity! by my hair he hurries me
Forth from the palace, through the glaring streets,
That strangely reel, and vanish from my sight.
I see the gods there, black against the sky,
And stiffening with the horror of men's deeds.
The spell that binds my lips is on their hands,
Or they would move to help me. Where is Cæsar?
Now hear this wretch that whispers in mine ear,
“Cæsar will have thy blood.” This gives me strength
To snap the chilly net-work of my fear,
And cry, “Thou liest!” See, the Consul comes!
“O noble man! I clasp thy garment's edge:
Save me as thou wouldst save thy fair-haired girl,
My playmate once.” Tears darkle in his eyes:
Pale, with a stifled curse he turns away;
He cannot aid me. Where the columns range,
The conscript fathers keep the weal of Rome.
Hark to me, fathers,—I am fatherless!
So quick away? Hear, Tyber, then, my cry;
Hear, ye protecting hills! Ah! silent all.
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With the noose dangling? Look to thine own fate!
Thou dar'st not slay a virgin. I will tear
Thine eyes with these small fingers ere thou come
A foot's length nearer! Keep away, away,
Thou untold horror! Only touch me not;
And I will twine thy halter round my throat
Like a bright riband on a festal day.
Give me the rope! let my poor bruised hands go,
Seeking the priceless mercy Death can bring.
Oh, come! since thy still feet are waited for
As the last rapture,—sweet, thou com'st too late.
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CAIUS CÆSAR.
I am the monster Caius, loathed of men,—Him whose foul record women may not read.
In distant Gaul, an altar to the gods
Attests the mother-pangs that brought me forth,
As I should prove a boon to move them thanks.
My father bred me soldierly in camps;
And the small jack-boots gave my childish name
Caligula. That father, in the East,
Sickened with secret poisons. Ye remember
How wild his widow bore the funeral urn,
Landing at Cyprus? Dark Tiberius then
Drew his death-circle slowly round our way.
My mother, struggling longest, fell at last.
Two brothers followed,—one by hunger's woe;
One by his own resolvèd hand escaped
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But I, surviving, kept the tyrant's side
So near, he could not spring to strangle me.
Slowly he recognized my crafty soul,
Knew me his master in all shameful arts,
And, having lopped the fair limbs from the tree,
Left me for the blood-blossoms I should bear,
And fruit of death. At first I only aped
His outward fashions; then I learned his thoughts;
Then his malignant madness seized on me,
And made me like him. Dying as he lay,
I forced the cushion 'twixt his gaping jaws,
And sped his flight from earth. That was, at least,
A service. Could I catalogue my deeds,
Thou couldst not stay to hear them. Hell itself
Swoons at the fatal tale, and cries, “Away!”
My royal ways were tapestried with blood;
First my young brother's, followed by a train
Of ghosts that might become imperial race.
I snatched from new-wed souls their nuptial joys,
And flung them back, disfigured to disgust.
So monstrous and unnatural my lusts,
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Banished the blushing rose of modesty,
And set a ghastly pallor in its place.
My victims were not rashly sped to death,
But tickled with such agony of pain
As gave the stab of dissolution price.
These pleasures wearied, when the thirst for gold
Set in, as cruel and more terrible.
I wrung the hand of toil, whose wretched pence
Gained too much honor in my haughty use.
I saw that vice had profit; wherefore then
I planted it, and gave it ministrance,
As one should tend a vine of fiery growth,
To madden others, and enrich one's self.
To coin, coin, coin, from every bosom's life,
Became my master-thought. Nor was there rest
When darkness hid the busy threads that weave
The color and consistence of men's days.
My dreams were brief. I walked the silent halls,
And plotted murder till the morning came
That made it easy. When I clasped a neck
Close to mine own, I whispered, “Love me well,
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All attributions to myself I drew,
All powers, all pleasures, all magnificence.
I clothed in silks and plumes and gems confused.
Now as a woman, now as man, I walked,
Now as a god, with beard of wroughten gold;
And no one chid me,—no one showed a chain,
Or frowned, or threatened as I passed his way.
Beauty was peril,—the fair locks of youth
Were shorn to honor my denuded front.
Where one stood eminent for strength and grace,
I marked him, and the hangman had his word.
Thus did my rivals vanish. All the while,
The slow death ripened in yon treacherous skies,
That looked so blandly, till one burning noon,
All Rome being gathered at the circus sport,
Loosed the swift hand that smote me. As it fell,
A score of poniards, like a shower of stars,
Glittered before me: death was everywhere;
And, hacked and hewed like Julius, I went down.
One shout, the uplifting of a sea of hearts
That praised the gods, was my last sign on earth.
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I dreamed I sat beside Olympian Jove,
And, reasoning as an equal, blazoned forth
Designs and deeds. “Thus have I done, and thus;
From mine own will, the perfect law of earth.
Hast thou no joy in my magnificence
That goes abroad so glorious, like to thine?
Look at my costly tunic, broidered robe,
Beard of pure gold, and blazing diadem!
Think of my pleasures, boundless as thine own;
My power, like thine, unquestioned, flinging down
Death, and a thousand deaths, for one caprice.
I claim celestial triumph at thine hands:
Here shall they crown me, equal to thyself.”
And in my heart I pondered, “Why not greater?”
Thereat the Immortal's front grew dark with wrath,
And, with one sudden spurning of his foot,
He sent me down to earth, precipitate.
Even on this wise, the morrow showed my fall;
But I am now where lower depth is none,
Nor light of Jove, nor human countenance.
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Fill up the void with wail that never tires,
Who, with a drunken madness like to mine,
Dreamed they were gods, and, waking, were not men.
166
CLAUDIUS.
When Caius Cæsar sank 'neath righteous steel,
The sweet blue patience of the firmament
Giving full measure, ere Jove's lightning fell,—
Poor Uncle Claudius! the fool, of whom
Augustus wrote, “Let him not sit with us
To see the games; contrive him out of sight
Who shames the Cæsars with his awkward ways,”—
He, scorned of men, the butt of all his tribe,
Astonished with the murder, hid his head
In the first truckle-bed he came upon,
Leaving his heels out, by the which they seized,
And dragged him forth. “To death?” he shivering cried.
“To empire!” they, and crowned him where he stood.
Not in derision, he gave grace to God,
And spread his solid base of human life.
The sweet blue patience of the firmament
Giving full measure, ere Jove's lightning fell,—
Poor Uncle Claudius! the fool, of whom
Augustus wrote, “Let him not sit with us
To see the games; contrive him out of sight
Who shames the Cæsars with his awkward ways,”—
He, scorned of men, the butt of all his tribe,
Astonished with the murder, hid his head
In the first truckle-bed he came upon,
Leaving his heels out, by the which they seized,
And dragged him forth. “To death?” he shivering cried.
“To empire!” they, and crowned him where he stood.
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And spread his solid base of human life.
The ambitious rather tampered with his wives
Than set him on to capering cruelty.
Law did he give, assiduous, all the day;
Though, once, the cook-shop near the judgment-hall
So overcame him, that he slid away,
Feasted him full, and let the sentence wait.
His tastes in blood were moderate, but nice.
He loved to see the Retiarius die,
And therefore bade him lift his quivering face
In the last spasm. Or he would wait a day
The leisure of the executioner
Rather than lose the victim's agonies
The law allowed him.
With a sudden zeal
He pleaded once the tavern-keeper's cause:
“For who, my masters, would forego his morsel
At the right moment, smoking, brown, and crisp?
And those old wine-shops, with such cool retreats,
And clammy jars, distilling juice divine,
Shall we not keep them? Other things must pass:
These good old friends shall stand, Joy's monuments.”
Than set him on to capering cruelty.
Law did he give, assiduous, all the day;
Though, once, the cook-shop near the judgment-hall
So overcame him, that he slid away,
Feasted him full, and let the sentence wait.
His tastes in blood were moderate, but nice.
He loved to see the Retiarius die,
And therefore bade him lift his quivering face
In the last spasm. Or he would wait a day
The leisure of the executioner
Rather than lose the victim's agonies
The law allowed him.
With a sudden zeal
He pleaded once the tavern-keeper's cause:
“For who, my masters, would forego his morsel
At the right moment, smoking, brown, and crisp?
And those old wine-shops, with such cool retreats,
And clammy jars, distilling juice divine,
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These good old friends shall stand, Joy's monuments.”
He gave the people victuals more than once,
And worthy games, with water combats rare.
Walking abroad, he dubbed them “Dominos,”
His toga loose and slovenly put on,
And offered salutation with his left,—
An act unseemly for a nobleman.
His married life had little luck or skill,—
The second venture wilder than the first,
While the third slew him with his favorite dish,
The stew of mushrooms, dangerous and dear.
And worthy games, with water combats rare.
Walking abroad, he dubbed them “Dominos,”
His toga loose and slovenly put on,
And offered salutation with his left,—
An act unseemly for a nobleman.
His married life had little luck or skill,—
The second venture wilder than the first,
While the third slew him with his favorite dish,
The stew of mushrooms, dangerous and dear.
Pass on, poor wretch, so dull and debonair,—
This mayst thou teach: How great soe'er the fool,
The multitude's a greater whom he rides.
This mayst thou teach: How great soe'er the fool,
The multitude's a greater whom he rides.
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THE VISION OF PAUL.
What is this that stops my way
Like a wall, unseen by day?
Who doth bid my errand stay
Ere I come?
What o'erclouds me like a dream,
Blotting each remembered scheme
With an unaccustomed theme?
“Jèsu sum.”
Like a wall, unseen by day?
Who doth bid my errand stay
Ere I come?
What o'erclouds me like a dream,
Blotting each remembered scheme
With an unaccustomed theme?
“Jèsu sum.”
What strange dissolution rends
From the comfort of my friends,
From my life's determined ends?
Dark and dumb,
What doth bind my fluent tongue
Like an instrument unstrung,
With its lesson never sung?
“Jèsu sum.”
From the comfort of my friends,
From my life's determined ends?
Dark and dumb,
What doth bind my fluent tongue
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With its lesson never sung?
“Jèsu sum.”
See! this sudden shock of light
Falls like palsy on my sight,
Till I view no path aright
In my gloom;
All my faculties are dead,
Every sinew bound with lead:
What this shivering trance of dread?
“Jèsu sum.”
Falls like palsy on my sight,
Till I view no path aright
In my gloom;
All my faculties are dead,
Every sinew bound with lead:
What this shivering trance of dread?
“Jèsu sum.”
“Listen, since for human weal,
That thy misdirected zeal,
Mightier than it murdered, heal,
Am I come:
Thou with stones my saints hast slain,
Torture bound with scourge and chain;
Know thyself the martyr pain!
Jèsu sum.
That thy misdirected zeal,
Mightier than it murdered, heal,
Am I come:
Thou with stones my saints hast slain,
Torture bound with scourge and chain;
Know thyself the martyr pain!
Jèsu sum.
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Thou wert mine without thy knowing;
From this moment's wonder-showing,
Pay the debt thy life is owing Burthensome:
On the blindness of thy thought
Dawns the inner life unsought.
Teach, as thou thyself art taught;
Jèsu sum.”
From this moment's wonder-showing,
Pay the debt thy life is owing Burthensome:
On the blindness of thy thought
Dawns the inner life unsought.
Teach, as thou thyself art taught;
Jèsu sum.”
175
1830 AND 1853.
An old man mazed and wild
Bearing a blond-haired child,
A woman blind with tears,—
The mournful train sweeps on;
And the monarchy is gone
For all the coming years.
Bearing a blond-haired child,
A woman blind with tears,—
The mournful train sweeps on;
And the monarchy is gone
For all the coming years.
They would have lingered slow,
For their hearts beat faint and low,
Their lives were a feeble spoil;
But the power that's new and strong
Cries, “Hasten them along,
Away from their native soil!”
For their hearts beat faint and low,
Their lives were a feeble spoil;
But the power that's new and strong
Cries, “Hasten them along,
Away from their native soil!”
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But I can stop, and sigh
At this grief of years gone by,—
An old man's fault and fall,—
And say that the exile's woe
Is a piteous thing to know,
Is the heaviest weird of all.
At this grief of years gone by,—
An old man's fault and fall,—
And say that the exile's woe
Is a piteous thing to know,
Is the heaviest weird of all.
In a palace bare and old
That a royal race left cold,
These children of the sun
Shall moulder in faded state,
Till the sentence, soon or late,
Remove them every one.
That a royal race left cold,
These children of the sun
Shall moulder in faded state,
Till the sentence, soon or late,
Remove them every one.
Perhaps the shade of her,
For whom brave blood doth stir
To this day in gallant breasts,
Moved through the dusky pile,
And welcomed with sad smile
The old ancestral crests.
For whom brave blood doth stir
To this day in gallant breasts,
Moved through the dusky pile,
And welcomed with sad smile
The old ancestral crests.
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The France that gave her birth,
Land of delight and mirth
Her lips were fond to bless,
Rolled this one shattered wave
Across her foreign grave
For very tenderness.
Land of delight and mirth
Her lips were fond to bless,
Rolled this one shattered wave
Across her foreign grave
For very tenderness.
She stands beside his knee,
And, looking wistfully
Upon his reverend head,
Sighs, “Uncle, are you come
From our belovèd home?
'Tis better to be dead!”
And, looking wistfully
Upon his reverend head,
Sighs, “Uncle, are you come
From our belovèd home?
'Tis better to be dead!”
O England! glad and free,
With thine own liberty
Endow thy trembling guest;
Stretch soft thy mantle where
He feels the wintry air,
And fondle him to rest.
With thine own liberty
Endow thy trembling guest;
Stretch soft thy mantle where
He feels the wintry air,
And fondle him to rest.
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But, lo! a wilder sob,
A swift and mighty throb;
And towards the rugged North,
With exiled steps of pain,
And fevered eye and brain,
Tis France herself goes forth.
A swift and mighty throb;
And towards the rugged North,
With exiled steps of pain,
And fevered eye and brain,
Tis France herself goes forth.
'Tis France; for 'neath the sun
Freedom and she were one
Five little years ago.
Her glorious flag they fold
As a thing disused and old:
“We have other fashions now.”
Freedom and she were one
Five little years ago.
Her glorious flag they fold
As a thing disused and old:
“We have other fashions now.”
Her sons must seek their bread,
And lay the weary head
In countries cold and lone;
Their halls are desolate;
The friends that made them great,
Their works, and days, are gone.
And lay the weary head
In countries cold and lone;
Their halls are desolate;
The friends that made them great,
Their works, and days, are gone.
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Nay, never flee, but stand,
Your good sword in your hand,
And cry your watchword true.
Drive the pursuer back:
The foe upon your track
Is mortal, even as you.
Your good sword in your hand,
And cry your watchword true.
Drive the pursuer back:
The foe upon your track
Is mortal, even as you.
His slimy, serpent ways;
His cold, voluptuous days;
His coffers, guilt-increased;
Your fathers' hearths grow cold,
Yourselves in exile old,
That he may reign and feast.
His cold, voluptuous days;
His coffers, guilt-increased;
Your fathers' hearths grow cold,
Yourselves in exile old,
That he may reign and feast.
His infant let him fold
In cloth of silk and gold,
Feeding on pearly food:
That child of bastard race,
Let it, too, find a place
In quiet Holy rood.
In cloth of silk and gold,
Feeding on pearly food:
That child of bastard race,
Let it, too, find a place
In quiet Holy rood.
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Flame lights the sunken cheek;
But the exile's hand is weak,
Weightless for good or ill:
Heaven give him sufferance!
But thou, great land of France,
But God, what is thy will?
But the exile's hand is weak,
Weightless for good or ill:
Heaven give him sufferance!
But thou, great land of France,
But God, what is thy will?
Oh! never read to-day,
Oh! stretching far away
Where stars revolve and burn,—
The lessons of the free,
The good that is to be,
My children wait to learn.
Oh! stretching far away
Where stars revolve and burn,—
The lessons of the free,
The good that is to be,
My children wait to learn.
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PERUGIA.
Remember ye Perugia, where Raphael dwelt in years
Whose visions crowded on his brain, ere praise amazed his ears;
Where, ripening fast, a Virgin in his master's style he drew,
With Babe and Prayer-book in her hands, and heavy hood of blue?
Whose visions crowded on his brain, ere praise amazed his ears;
Where, ripening fast, a Virgin in his master's style he drew,
With Babe and Prayer-book in her hands, and heavy hood of blue?
Oh! saw you e'er the Switzers stand in helmed and jerkined row,
When Christ's meek vicar up the aisle of holy church would go?
Bull-necked and brutal-featured they, ferocious, bold and strong,—
Their only faith the pound of flesh that's paid for, right or wrong.
When Christ's meek vicar up the aisle of holy church would go?
Bull-necked and brutal-featured they, ferocious, bold and strong,—
Their only faith the pound of flesh that's paid for, right or wrong.
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I've seen them when that church was thronged with pageants grand and gay;
When royal rank, and worldly fame, and beauty there held sway:
The columns wavered in the smoke, the banners hung aloof,
And the golden song effaced from mind the glories of the roof.
When royal rank, and worldly fame, and beauty there held sway:
The columns wavered in the smoke, the banners hung aloof,
And the golden song effaced from mind the glories of the roof.
My soul was drunk with harmony, my senses swam and reeled:
It may be, when the trump did sound, that down I sank and kneeled;
Yet thought I, when I marked those men in cuirass and in sword,
“How little is the Vicar's state remindful of his Lord!
It may be, when the trump did sound, that down I sank and kneeled;
Yet thought I, when I marked those men in cuirass and in sword,
“How little is the Vicar's state remindful of his Lord!
No need to keep the people from his mild and harmless way;
They touched his garments for relief, and were not warned away;
And, when his hour of danger came, he put defence to shame,
Commanding, ‘Sheathe again thy sword, or perish by the same!’”
They touched his garments for relief, and were not warned away;
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Commanding, ‘Sheathe again thy sword, or perish by the same!’”
They came to old Perugia, that helmed and jerkined pack;
They came with murder in their hearts, and armor at their back;
They shot the men about the streets, the women at their fire,
The infant at its mother's knee, child, wife, and aged sire.
They came with murder in their hearts, and armor at their back;
They shot the men about the streets, the women at their fire,
The infant at its mother's knee, child, wife, and aged sire.
The streets ran blood in every house some ghastly corpse was seen.
The passing traveller saved his life by a forgotten screen;
And, when the fiends have done their work, to Rome they take their way;
The Pope doth welcome them again, and gladly counts their pay.
The passing traveller saved his life by a forgotten screen;
And, when the fiends have done their work, to Rome they take their way;
The Pope doth welcome them again, and gladly counts their pay.
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Remember well Perugia, thou Old World and thou New!
The Vicar's visitation this,—such care he takes of you,
Ye of no sin accused or tried, warped to no heresy,
Guilty of nothing but the sweet contagion of the free.
The Vicar's visitation this,—such care he takes of you,
Ye of no sin accused or tried, warped to no heresy,
Guilty of nothing but the sweet contagion of the free.
Remember, ye who deeply think, and ye who greatly dare;
Remember, ye who talk with God in poesy and prayer;
For he's the lie of all the earth, that false Pope, pride-enthroned,
Begirt with flaming cardinals, an idol, serpent-zoned.
Remember, ye who talk with God in poesy and prayer;
For he's the lie of all the earth, that false Pope, pride-enthroned,
Begirt with flaming cardinals, an idol, serpent-zoned.
'Tis time that Christ should come again, and sweep his temple clean,
And rend the glittering robes that hide a fable poor and mean.
His Church was not a fortress armed, to deal out death and dread;
Nor yet a mummy sepulchre, where men adore the dead:
And rend the glittering robes that hide a fable poor and mean.
His Church was not a fortress armed, to deal out death and dread;
Nor yet a mummy sepulchre, where men adore the dead:
185
It was—but ere our creeds grow wise, let once our arms be strong
To fling beyond the hating world this monstrous curse and wrong.
Sweet Christ, let faithless Peter sink, forgotten, like a stone;
And the fair ship move swiftly on, afloat with thee alone!
To fling beyond the hating world this monstrous curse and wrong.
Sweet Christ, let faithless Peter sink, forgotten, like a stone;
And the fair ship move swiftly on, afloat with thee alone!
My country, let no hoary lie for refuge come to you!
The things that were have had their day; the things that are, are true.
While women kiss the jewelled hand, and praise the broidered hem,
Let men bring back the heart of Christ, that lives for us and them.
The things that were have had their day; the things that are, are true.
While women kiss the jewelled hand, and praise the broidered hem,
Let men bring back the heart of Christ, that lives for us and them.
186
OF WOMAN.
It was a silken woman of the world
That of fond Herod claimed the Baptist's head:
“If this sad virtue gets to countenance,
Our dancing's done with, in the quickest way.”
And, for a painted toy, the anointed brow
That knew the Christ's significance must fall.
That of fond Herod claimed the Baptist's head:
“If this sad virtue gets to countenance,
Our dancing's done with, in the quickest way.”
And, for a painted toy, the anointed brow
That knew the Christ's significance must fall.
Such deadly power is hid in smallest things:
The Aspic might have chilled from Love's delight
The bosom it assisted to Love's end.
The shaft of death is subtle as a thread,—
The air may bring, the garland's bloom conceal,—
One desperate finger holds it over us,
Or in a woman's snowy breast it lies.
Teach, then, the woman all the Prophet's worth,
So will she bow the tresses of her head
To yield him passing homage, and pour out
The treasure of her life to ransom his.
The Aspic might have chilled from Love's delight
The bosom it assisted to Love's end.
The shaft of death is subtle as a thread,—
The air may bring, the garland's bloom conceal,—
One desperate finger holds it over us,
Or in a woman's snowy breast it lies.
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So will she bow the tresses of her head
To yield him passing homage, and pour out
The treasure of her life to ransom his.
I love the woman with the woman's heart,
Giving, not gathering,—shedding light abroad
As the man glooms it in, for midnight toil.
Better our Hebrew Eve, who shares with love
The guilty glory of her stolen prize,
Than the three haughty Heathen who rose up,
Claiming of man a vain pre-eminence,—
Not his to give,—God's only, and the heart's.
Giving, not gathering,—shedding light abroad
As the man glooms it in, for midnight toil.
Better our Hebrew Eve, who shares with love
The guilty glory of her stolen prize,
Than the three haughty Heathen who rose up,
Claiming of man a vain pre-eminence,—
Not his to give,—God's only, and the heart's.
They showed me drawings by a six-years' child
Of beasts incongruous, harnessed to a car:
“Now, on my life, he is artist-born,” I said.
“Wherefore? You see the slim camelopard
Rearing her strength up, pulling from the head;
While the swift horses stretch to twice their length,
Spinning themselves to slender threads of speed,
Nay, with their iron sinews knitting up
A belt of haste like that our Shakspeare drew
With Puck's impatient malice, round the world.
The little one has guessed the trick of strength
And action, so is artist-born,” I say.
Of beasts incongruous, harnessed to a car:
“Now, on my life, he is artist-born,” I said.
“Wherefore? You see the slim camelopard
Rearing her strength up, pulling from the head;
While the swift horses stretch to twice their length,
Spinning themselves to slender threads of speed,
Nay, with their iron sinews knitting up
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With Puck's impatient malice, round the world.
The little one has guessed the trick of strength
And action, so is artist-born,” I say.
“For your true artist knows how all things work;
Bestows no Zephyrus to prop a pile
Whose angles huge insult his littleness,
Cramping the sympathetic soul with pain,
But the great patient forms whose shoulders broad
Invite such burthens; whose fixed features say,
‘This weight contents us; we are glad in strength;’
While the light figure poises at the top,
Holding the heavy network gathered up
To meet the apex of his graciousness.
Bestows no Zephyrus to prop a pile
Whose angles huge insult his littleness,
Cramping the sympathetic soul with pain,
But the great patient forms whose shoulders broad
Invite such burthens; whose fixed features say,
‘This weight contents us; we are glad in strength;’
While the light figure poises at the top,
Holding the heavy network gathered up
To meet the apex of his graciousness.
So, Sisters, leave the weightier tasks of strength,
The underpinnings of society,
And flutter with your graces nearer heaven.
He thinks of you, the steadfast Caryatid,—
The faithful arches clasp their hands beneath
To keep you in your breathless eminence;
The gloomy cellar way, the weary stair,
Exalt the platform where you reign serene.
The underpinnings of society,
And flutter with your graces nearer heaven.
He thinks of you, the steadfast Caryatid,—
The faithful arches clasp their hands beneath
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The gloomy cellar way, the weary stair,
Exalt the platform where you reign serene.
Stay there, Beloved, the Angel at the top,
That crowns and lightens all the heavy work.
The very prisoners, entering at the grate,
Perceive an intercession in thine eyes,
And keep their dungeons, waiting for thy sword.
Stay thus, my Angel, seeing over thee
The Heaven that dreamed the Mary and her Christ,—
The dream whereat the Baby Earth awoke,
And, smiling, keeps that smile forever more.”
That crowns and lightens all the heavy work.
The very prisoners, entering at the grate,
Perceive an intercession in thine eyes,
And keep their dungeons, waiting for thy sword.
Stay thus, my Angel, seeing over thee
The Heaven that dreamed the Mary and her Christ,—
The dream whereat the Baby Earth awoke,
And, smiling, keeps that smile forever more.”
192
LYKE-WAKE.
I saw him at a banquet gay,
Elate with speech and flushed with wine:
Above the revel making way,
His eye, unwitting, answered mine.
Elate with speech and flushed with wine:
Above the revel making way,
His eye, unwitting, answered mine.
What his expressed I did not read;
But mine, if I mistake not, said,
“This minds me of their feasts indeed
Who drain the wine-cup o'er their dead;
But mine, if I mistake not, said,
“This minds me of their feasts indeed
Who drain the wine-cup o'er their dead;
Who set the liquid fire to flare
Where late the spirit-flame has flown;
The sorrow still unearthed and bare
The miserable drink should drown.”
Where late the spirit-flame has flown;
The sorrow still unearthed and bare
The miserable drink should drown.”
193
BARGAINS.
He prest a ruby on her lips, whose burning blood shone through;
Twin sapphires bound above her eyes, to match their fiery blue;
And, where her hair was parted back, an opal gem he set,—
Type of her changing countenance, where all delights were met.
Twin sapphires bound above her eyes, to match their fiery blue;
And, where her hair was parted back, an opal gem he set,—
Type of her changing countenance, where all delights were met.
“Will you surrender now,” he said, “the ancient grudge you keep
Untiring and unutterèd, like murder in the deep?”
“I thank you for the word,” she said; “your gems are fair of form
But when did jewels bind the depths, or splendors still the storm?
Untiring and unutterèd, like murder in the deep?”
“I thank you for the word,” she said; “your gems are fair of form
But when did jewels bind the depths, or splendors still the storm?
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There is no diamond in the mine, nor pearl beneath the wave,
There is no fretted coronet that soothes a princely grave,
There is nor fate nor empire in the wide infinity,
Can stand in grace and virtue with the gift you had from me.”
There is no fretted coronet that soothes a princely grave,
There is nor fate nor empire in the wide infinity,
Can stand in grace and virtue with the gift you had from me.”
195
ROUGE GAGNE.
The wheel is turned, the cards are laid;
The circle's drawn, the bets are made:
I stake my gold upon the red.
The circle's drawn, the bets are made:
I stake my gold upon the red.
The rubies of the bosom mine,
The river of life, so swift divine,
In red all radiantly shine.
The river of life, so swift divine,
In red all radiantly shine.
Upon the cards, like gouts of blood,
Lie dinted hearts, and diamonds good,
The red for faith and hardihood.
Lie dinted hearts, and diamonds good,
The red for faith and hardihood.
In red the sacred blushes start
On errand from a virgin heart,
To win its glorious counterpart.
On errand from a virgin heart,
To win its glorious counterpart.
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The rose that makes the summer fair,
The velvet robe that sovereigns wear,
The red revealment could not spare.
The velvet robe that sovereigns wear,
The red revealment could not spare.
And men who conquer deadly odds
By fields of ice, and raging floods,
Take the red passion from the gods.
By fields of ice, and raging floods,
Take the red passion from the gods.
Now, Love is red, and Wisdom pale,
But human hearts are faint and frail
Till Love meets Love, and bids it hail.
But human hearts are faint and frail
Till Love meets Love, and bids it hail.
I see the chasm, yawning dread;
I see the flaming arch o'erhead:
I stake my life upon the red.
I see the flaming arch o'erhead:
I stake my life upon the red.
199
MAID AND MISTRESS.
AN ECLOGUE.
Lady Olympia, I'm so glad you've left
The dreary villa for this pleasant home
That lies in sight of every omnibus,
And sends the winds that whistle as they pass
To vent their spite elsewhere,—so stout it is.
The dreary villa for this pleasant home
That lies in sight of every omnibus,
And sends the winds that whistle as they pass
To vent their spite elsewhere,—so stout it is.
Here, too, are men to tramp the stairs for us,
The sort of men that care for women's thanks.
Your country louts, you know, are country-bred:
No mother-feeling, stirring at the heart,
Sends them to help us at the wood or well.
The sort of men that care for women's thanks.
Your country louts, you know, are country-bred:
No mother-feeling, stirring at the heart,
Sends them to help us at the wood or well.
Then, so communicable with the shops!
The butcher comes, the baker also comes,
And at a nod the grocer's boy is here;
While from my cousin's uncle's brother's wife
I hear of neighbors, and the folks at home.
The butcher comes, the baker also comes,
And at a nod the grocer's boy is here;
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I hear of neighbors, and the folks at home.
You sigh, dear lady; for you loved your fields,
And talked of Nature, which I never learned,
Seeking the sunny corners all day long;
Or, sitting grand and graceful in the hall,
Kept still a blazing log to comfort you,
While we went shivering up the garret stairs,
Asking each night, “When will my lady move?”
And talked of Nature, which I never learned,
Seeking the sunny corners all day long;
Or, sitting grand and graceful in the hall,
Kept still a blazing log to comfort you,
While we went shivering up the garret stairs,
Asking each night, “When will my lady move?”
Ah! mistress dear, I love your service well,
And praise it with the honest bread I eat:
But you're too easy with our sort of folk;
And that great cook, the red-faced, humbugs you.
And praise it with the honest bread I eat:
But you're too easy with our sort of folk;
And that great cook, the red-faced, humbugs you.
The man too—why, his eyes will dance with mirth
When you receive his solemn tale of work,
Looking such pity for his aching joints;
He having sat beside the kitchen fire,
And munched his victuals thankless, all the day,
While we, poor womankind, have hauled the coals,
And brought the water up, with straining backs,
Till he has grown ashamed to meet our looks,
And feigned a villanous sleep to shut them out.
When you receive his solemn tale of work,
Looking such pity for his aching joints;
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And munched his victuals thankless, all the day,
While we, poor womankind, have hauled the coals,
And brought the water up, with straining backs,
Till he has grown ashamed to meet our looks,
And feigned a villanous sleep to shut them out.
Well, well, you're snug within your chamber now,
And I have company, and needful help,
And beautiful oak-chips to light your fire;
And so the winter promises to pass:
But, Dame Olympia, let me rule the cook,
And keep her cousins from the larder shelf,
All fond of her, and blest with appetite.
And I have company, and needful help,
And beautiful oak-chips to light your fire;
And so the winter promises to pass:
But, Dame Olympia, let me rule the cook,
And keep her cousins from the larder shelf,
All fond of her, and blest with appetite.
And should that louting Thomas rouse himself.
Never say, “Thomas, do not work so hard;”
For when you speak so, and I bid him wag,
He'll answer, “Did you mind my mistress' words?
I'm sitting here to help her care of me.”
Thus spake my favorite, petted by long love;
And I forgave that neighborhood of stars,
And softest quarrel 'twixt the shore and sea,
Which made my villa, where you've sat at meat
With little splendor, worthy of a queen.
Never say, “Thomas, do not work so hard;”
For when you speak so, and I bid him wag,
He'll answer, “Did you mind my mistress' words?
I'm sitting here to help her care of me.”
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And I forgave that neighborhood of stars,
And softest quarrel 'twixt the shore and sea,
Which made my villa, where you've sat at meat
With little splendor, worthy of a queen.
203
THE MODERATE MAN.
How shall the money flow into my pocket?
Swift grow the fortunes of men, and their pride.
Small my estate, though I labor to stock it,
Left of my father, fourfold to divide.
Swift grow the fortunes of men, and their pride.
Small my estate, though I labor to stock it,
Left of my father, fourfold to divide.
Money to dress these fair girls of mine finely,
Catch a rich suitor, and rivet him fast;
Couches of silk to repose on supinely,
Wooing the life-joys gone by with the past.
Catch a rich suitor, and rivet him fast;
Couches of silk to repose on supinely,
Wooing the life-joys gone by with the past.
Soon my young master asks horses to ease him,
Saucy at college, at billiards most brave;
Endless devices shall plunder and please him,
Youth must have follies, and parents can save.
Saucy at college, at billiards most brave;
Endless devices shall plunder and please him,
Youth must have follies, and parents can save.
[OMITTED]
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Nay, thou art pampered e'en now out of measure,
Lackest no comfort through hunger or grief;
Dances and festivals bring needless pleasure,
Seen to depart with a sigh of relief.
Lackest no comfort through hunger or grief;
Dances and festivals bring needless pleasure,
Seen to depart with a sigh of relief.
See where my lost ones sit low in their mourning,
Sunken the bosom, and hollow the cheek;
There may thy spirit find better adorning
With the inheritance vowed to the meek.
Sunken the bosom, and hollow the cheek;
There may thy spirit find better adorning
With the inheritance vowed to the meek.
Seeking the boasting, the tinsel, the racket,
Little thou learn'st Life's miraculous art:
Let the gold rather flow out of thy pocket;
Then may the mercy flow into thy heart.
Little thou learn'st Life's miraculous art:
Let the gold rather flow out of thy pocket;
Then may the mercy flow into thy heart.
206
CONTRASTS.
I shall not come to the heavenly court
As I enter your ball to-night,
In tissues wreathed with flowery sport,
And jewels of haughty light,
As I enter your ball to-night,
In tissues wreathed with flowery sport,
And jewels of haughty light,
Bearing on shoulders stiff and straight
The marble of my face,
Moving with high and measured gait
To claim my yielded place.
The marble of my face,
Moving with high and measured gait
To claim my yielded place.
Poor narrow souls! your easy spite
Moves this enforced disdain:
I cannot vanish from the fight
Other than crowned or slain.
Moves this enforced disdain:
I cannot vanish from the fight
Other than crowned or slain.
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The russet garb of penitence
For me were lighter wear
Than all a queen's magnificence,
A prince's minivère.
For me were lighter wear
Than all a queen's magnificence,
A prince's minivère.
Unloose, unloose your chains of pride,
Set my vexed spirit free,
That I may follow my angel guide
In glad humility.
Set my vexed spirit free,
That I may follow my angel guide
In glad humility.
For I would hearken the sentence deep,
Abide the lifted rod,
And sink, like a chastened child, to weep
In the fatherhood of God.
Abide the lifted rod,
And sink, like a chastened child, to weep
In the fatherhood of God.
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JEALOUSY.
Low in my bosom, aspic, thou must hide,
Its best blood not too dainty for thy fang;
Such closeness saves me from the hell of pride,
Should haughty conquerors know the deadly pang.
Its best blood not too dainty for thy fang;
Such closeness saves me from the hell of pride,
Should haughty conquerors know the deadly pang.
No beggar takes thee home. In all men's eyes
I have been crowned with glory in my time:
Joy that made Envy cruel to a crime
Has draped me in the sight of summer skies.
And she who flouts me, fallen from my prime,
Had been a spot upon my affluent noon
That grasped the hill-tops, and the valleys drew
To one accord of rapturous delight.
Ah me! in love, December waits on June:
We have not lost a gesture nor a tune,
Before a rival revels in our right.
I have been crowned with glory in my time:
Joy that made Envy cruel to a crime
Has draped me in the sight of summer skies.
And she who flouts me, fallen from my prime,
Had been a spot upon my affluent noon
That grasped the hill-tops, and the valleys drew
To one accord of rapturous delight.
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We have not lost a gesture nor a tune,
Before a rival revels in our right.
Sting deep to death, that sex and soul be lost,
That they, the happy, may turn cold with shame;
Love, to recall his gem of worthier cost;
And Hate, to find me perished ere she came.
That they, the happy, may turn cold with shame;
Love, to recall his gem of worthier cost;
And Hate, to find me perished ere she came.
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WITHOUT AND WITHIN.
Go away to the world's wild hubbub:
I cannot go with thee;
For the deep home-anchors hold me
From the waves of that yeasty sea,
Where, the sun my fresh sail gilding,
We once held company.
I cannot go with thee;
For the deep home-anchors hold me
From the waves of that yeasty sea,
Where, the sun my fresh sail gilding,
We once held company.
If the vain and the silly bind thee,
I cannot unlock thy chain;
If sin and the senses blind thee,
Thyself must endure the pain;
If the arrows of conscience find thee,
Thou must conquer thy peace again.
I cannot unlock thy chain;
If sin and the senses blind thee,
Thyself must endure the pain;
If the arrows of conscience find thee,
Thou must conquer thy peace again.
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Here the line that runs between us
Is narrow, but black as night:
Faith sits passive this side the border,
More happy, perhaps, than sight;
And I wring me slow drops of comfort
Where once I drank swift delight.
Is narrow, but black as night:
Faith sits passive this side the border,
More happy, perhaps, than sight;
And I wring me slow drops of comfort
Where once I drank swift delight.
For I sit here with lovelorn Tasso;
With Dante, hooded and crowned;
While, further, the classic satyrs
Beat the old Virgilian ground;
And I hark for the Flaccian lyre,
Till spirit comes back for sound.
With Dante, hooded and crowned;
While, further, the classic satyrs
Beat the old Virgilian ground;
And I hark for the Flaccian lyre,
Till spirit comes back for sound.
Here I sit with the scornful Roman
Who tells his grim tale so cold
Of the vanishing Southern nation,
And the Northerns bright-haired and bold:
Last year 'twas a breathless story,
But now 'tis a tale oft told.
Who tells his grim tale so cold
Of the vanishing Southern nation,
And the Northerns bright-haired and bold:
Last year 'twas a breathless story,
But now 'tis a tale oft told.
218
And the sons of Science around me
Reach help from reservèd hands:
They have spread their net for the Godhood,
And bound Him with close-wove bands,
While He counts their small thoughts in His balance
With minutes, and drops, and sands.
Reach help from reservèd hands:
They have spread their net for the Godhood,
And bound Him with close-wove bands,
While He counts their small thoughts in His balance
With minutes, and drops, and sands.
I am here with the prophets whose warnings
In the golden eternity fall;
I am here with the good Physician
Who healeth both great and small;
I am here with the great soul-masters;
And sorrow, greater than all.
In the golden eternity fall;
I am here with the good Physician
Who healeth both great and small;
I am here with the great soul-masters;
And sorrow, greater than all.
219
THE VOICE OF THE CATARACT.
Canopied by trees, the Torrent
Rages on her bed of stone;
She, so slim and staid last summer,
To a monstrous madness grown.
Rages on her bed of stone;
She, so slim and staid last summer,
To a monstrous madness grown.
At her feet the fair Spray children,
Tossing wide their snowy locks,
Cushion soft her frantic movements
From the roughness of the rocks.
Tossing wide their snowy locks,
Cushion soft her frantic movements
From the roughness of the rocks.
What doth ail thee, hoary Princess,
Tossing on thy bed of pain,
While the ruddy trees above thee
Drop unceasing tears of rain?
Tossing on thy bed of pain,
While the ruddy trees above thee
Drop unceasing tears of rain?
220
Fain to loose thy pallid tresses,
Fain thy garments wild to tear,—
Like a passion, ever moving;
Like a sorrow, ever there.
Fain thy garments wild to tear,—
Like a passion, ever moving;
Like a sorrow, ever there.
Was the summer wind thine Essex?
Did some treacherous blossom-pile
Keep his last sigh from thy bosom,
From his sight thy pardoning smile?
Did some treacherous blossom-pile
Keep his last sigh from thy bosom,
From his sight thy pardoning smile?
“Oh the bitter frost of winter!
Oh the false delight of spring!
He whose heart knows no betrayal
Skills not of the song I sing.”
Oh the false delight of spring!
He whose heart knows no betrayal
Skills not of the song I sing.”
221
THE EVENING RIDE.
Through purple clouds with golden crests
I go to find my lover;
Hid from my sight this many a year,
My heart must him discover:
I know the lair of the timid hare,
The nest of the startled plover.
I go to find my lover;
Hid from my sight this many a year,
My heart must him discover:
I know the lair of the timid hare,
The nest of the startled plover.
O Earth! of all thy garlands keep
The fairest for our meeting:
Could we ask music, 'twere to drown
The heart's tumultuous beating,
That only eyes, in glad surprise,
Might look through tears their greeting.
The fairest for our meeting:
Could we ask music, 'twere to drown
The heart's tumultuous beating,
That only eyes, in glad surprise,
Might look through tears their greeting.
222
If Time have writ my beauty out,
I have no charm to blind him;
No snare to catch his doubting soul,
Nor vow exchanged to bind him;
But this I keep, that I must weep
Bitterly when I find him.
I have no charm to blind him;
No snare to catch his doubting soul,
Nor vow exchanged to bind him;
But this I keep, that I must weep
Bitterly when I find him.
223
NIGHT-MUSINGS.
I walk the lonely roofs at night,
The roof-tree creaking as I go;
A farthing taper gives me light,
And monstrous darkness sits below.
The roof-tree creaking as I go;
A farthing taper gives me light,
And monstrous darkness sits below.
What spell is in these feet of mine
That binds them so to beat the air?
What tears are in my blood, or wine,
That will not yield to sleep or prayer?
That binds them so to beat the air?
What tears are in my blood, or wine,
That will not yield to sleep or prayer?
Ah me! the day brought sleep enough;
Its humming pulses drowsed my soul;
My ways were spun of funeral stuff,
And every meal was death and dole.
Its humming pulses drowsed my soul;
My ways were spun of funeral stuff,
And every meal was death and dole.
224
But now my measured footstep seems
A chariot, drawn by burning doves;
Or now my fancy climbs in dreams
A ladder of transfigured loves.
A chariot, drawn by burning doves;
Or now my fancy climbs in dreams
A ladder of transfigured loves.
Or now I stand as Jacob stood,
Matched hand to hand, and knee to knee:
Thou unknown Fate, declare thy good!
Answer, and I will set thee free.
Matched hand to hand, and knee to knee:
Thou unknown Fate, declare thy good!
Answer, and I will set thee free.
And now I walk a garden bed,
Whose flowers contend with fervent airs;
And each fair bell that lifts its head
A look of loved remembrance wears.
Whose flowers contend with fervent airs;
And each fair bell that lifts its head
A look of loved remembrance wears.
Or, last, I sit in some strange isle,
Unsexed by Age and Wisdom's might,
And make a pictured parchment smile
With words illegible for light.
Unsexed by Age and Wisdom's might,
And make a pictured parchment smile
With words illegible for light.
225
A slip, a shock, a distant tone!
The world's pale watchman crying woe;
I spin my thread of light alone,
And darkness whets its shears below.
The world's pale watchman crying woe;
I spin my thread of light alone,
And darkness whets its shears below.
226
SUMMER NIGHT.
In the lovely summer night,
Softest music breathes around me,
Softest memories have bound me,
In the lovely summer night.
Softest music breathes around me,
Softest memories have bound me,
In the lovely summer night.
A Star doth send his light,—
A blazing diamond, pearl beset,
The brightest where the bright are met,
In the lovely summer night.
A blazing diamond, pearl beset,
The brightest where the bright are met,
In the lovely summer night.
In the lovely summer night,—
Walking with beloved shadows
O'er the star-lit heaths and meadows
In the lovely summer night.
Walking with beloved shadows
O'er the star-lit heaths and meadows
In the lovely summer night.
227
In the lovely summer night,
Sharp-edged Sorrow waits to seize me;
Death, from sorrow to release me
In the lovely summer night.
Sharp-edged Sorrow waits to seize me;
Death, from sorrow to release me
In the lovely summer night.
228
EROS HAS WARNING.
Shut here thy burning gospel;
Thou and I must part, O Love!
Keep ambush for youth's gay spirits
To bear in thy car above;
Leave me slow to tread the earth-ball,
Who languidly live and move.
Thou and I must part, O Love!
Keep ambush for youth's gay spirits
To bear in thy car above;
Leave me slow to tread the earth-ball,
Who languidly live and move.
Wait not with thy wings where I issue
In the winter's cold and frost,
To carry me swift through the snow-drift,
And the heavens, cloud-embossed:
I will take me a humbler airing,
Will travel at lowlier cost.
In the winter's cold and frost,
To carry me swift through the snow-drift,
And the heavens, cloud-embossed:
I will take me a humbler airing,
Will travel at lowlier cost.
229
Thou foe of the task and the fireside,
Thou foe of the placid brow,
Thou tyrant of gentlest bosoms,
Seek other dominion now!
For my years lie counted before me;
I must work to redeem a vow.
Thou foe of the placid brow,
Thou tyrant of gentlest bosoms,
Seek other dominion now!
For my years lie counted before me;
I must work to redeem a vow.
When thou passest, all in thy glory,
With thy rosy-bosomed crew;
When thy Pæan loud resoundeth,
And the World is crowned anew,—
I'll not join the frantic strophe,
I'll not sing “Io” too.
With thy rosy-bosomed crew;
When thy Pæan loud resoundeth,
And the World is crowned anew,—
I'll not join the frantic strophe,
I'll not sing “Io” too.
A web of peace and of science
Hangs gathering in my loom,
And I work after thoughts of wisdom
That blot out our human doom;
And the garb I have wrapped around me—
I shall carry it to the tomb.
Hangs gathering in my loom,
And I work after thoughts of wisdom
That blot out our human doom;
And the garb I have wrapped around me—
I shall carry it to the tomb.
230
So here I acknowledge, master,
Thy magical law and spell;
Oh! deeper than thought can fathom,
Oh! greater than words can tell;
Let us part from our hands' long clasping,
And solemnly bid farewell.
Thy magical law and spell;
Oh! deeper than thought can fathom,
Oh! greater than words can tell;
Let us part from our hands' long clasping,
And solemnly bid farewell.
231
EROS DEPARTS.
Love that wert my being,
Love that passest death,
Am I here without thee,
Breathing human breath?
Moving, not to meet thee
On this summer morn?
While the Earth, new-cinctured,
Blyth and bloom adorn?
Love that passest death,
Am I here without thee,
Breathing human breath?
Moving, not to meet thee
On this summer morn?
While the Earth, new-cinctured,
Blyth and bloom adorn?
While the deep-hung branches,
Trailing, sweep the ground,
And the droning beetle
Spinneth round for round,
And the light, wave-broken,
Shimmers on the sea,
Do I sit here, waiting
Nevermore for thee?
Trailing, sweep the ground,
And the droning beetle
Spinneth round for round,
232
Shimmers on the sea,
Do I sit here, waiting
Nevermore for thee?
But for thee my fancy
Chose these garments white,
Wove the tufted roses
But for thy delight;
But for thee this diamond,
Darling of the mine,
Glistens in the ear-drop
Like a tear of thine,—
Like a tear, that, welling
From thy happy breast,
Where thy vows were whispered,
Waiteth to be blest.
Chose these garments white,
Wove the tufted roses
But for thy delight;
But for thee this diamond,
Darling of the mine,
Glistens in the ear-drop
Like a tear of thine,—
Like a tear, that, welling
From thy happy breast,
Where thy vows were whispered,
Waiteth to be blest.
Beasts in yonder meadow
Lightly choose a mate,
Missing, scarce a day's length
Wonder they, and wait;
But the ewe lamb's mother
Bleateth long and sore;
Thrush, in yonder covert,
Sorroweth evermore;
Choking with a spasm
In her silver strain,
“Dear delight of summer,
Come again, again!”
Lightly choose a mate,
Missing, scarce a day's length
Wonder they, and wait;
233
Bleateth long and sore;
Thrush, in yonder covert,
Sorroweth evermore;
Choking with a spasm
In her silver strain,
“Dear delight of summer,
Come again, again!”
Not that thou shouldst leave me,—
Thou, ethereal born;
But that I survive thee,—
That is grief and scorn.
Thou, ethereal born;
But that I survive thee,—
That is grief and scorn.
Poor in form and stature,
Pale and dull of hue,
By thy creed of beauty
Towards thy wish I grew,
Fought with Time and Nature,
Conquered bitter pain,
Keeping thievish footsteps
From thy dear domain.
Pale and dull of hue,
By thy creed of beauty
Towards thy wish I grew,
Fought with Time and Nature,
Conquered bitter pain,
Keeping thievish footsteps
From thy dear domain.
234
From that task delightsome,
Grief-absolved I lie;
Free to pine and perish,
Love, since thou canst die.
While the trees, like mourners,
Bear my azure pall,
Let the whirlwind scatter,
Let the ashes fall,
Striving towards no heaven
Dim and distant far:
Only where thou dwellest
The Immortals are.
Grief-absolved I lie;
Free to pine and perish,
Love, since thou canst die.
While the trees, like mourners,
Bear my azure pall,
Let the whirlwind scatter,
Let the ashes fall,
Striving towards no heaven
Dim and distant far:
Only where thou dwellest
The Immortals are.
235
SIMPLE TALES.
I.
What are they bringing to this grave,
O Sexton pale and old?
What blossom white, or blasted root,
Must underlie this mould?
Hark to the bell!—I cannot tell:
We dig the grave, and ring the knell.
O Sexton pale and old?
What blossom white, or blasted root,
Must underlie this mould?
Hark to the bell!—I cannot tell:
We dig the grave, and ring the knell.
If you must ask—that married pair,
That move so stiff and sad,
With snow-flakes thickening in their hair,
In new-dyed sables clad;
The kerchief busy at their eyes,
That way, methinks, the burthen lies.
That move so stiff and sad,
With snow-flakes thickening in their hair,
In new-dyed sables clad;
The kerchief busy at their eyes,
That way, methinks, the burthen lies.
236
In yonder moss-clad church, their pew
Showed once a gracious child,
A laughing imp of rosy hue
In glee and mischief wild.
To manhood grown, he went away,
Returning in an evil day.
Showed once a gracious child,
A laughing imp of rosy hue
In glee and mischief wild.
To manhood grown, he went away,
Returning in an evil day.
“Ho, rascals!” cries he, “take my beast;
Haste there, and let me in;
My father keeps a sorry feast,
My mother's sour and thin.
I've come to change their ways a bit;
Fetch brandy, fill a bumper fit!
Haste there, and let me in;
My father keeps a sorry feast,
My mother's sour and thin.
I've come to change their ways a bit;
Fetch brandy, fill a bumper fit!
Squire, I have debts in yonder town;
I fling the careless card;
My tradesmen press their bills, and frown;
My creditors are hard.
This world is not a mother's breast,
No cradle, for a babe to rest.”
I fling the careless card;
My tradesmen press their bills, and frown;
My creditors are hard.
This world is not a mother's breast,
No cradle, for a babe to rest.”
237
The mother scans him in the light
Of the oriel deep and wide.
Where are those curls and dimples bright,
The cheek, her blushing pride?
Whose touch could smooth that tangled hair,
Now knotted, like a snaky snare?
Of the oriel deep and wide.
Where are those curls and dimples bright,
The cheek, her blushing pride?
Whose touch could smooth that tangled hair,
Now knotted, like a snaky snare?
Nor this the worst: the bloodshot eye;
The voice of scoffing tone;
The lips unsteady, that defy
The pleading of her own.
In grief she struggles and sinks down:
He answers with a sullen frown.
The voice of scoffing tone;
The lips unsteady, that defy
The pleading of her own.
In grief she struggles and sinks down:
He answers with a sullen frown.
The unwilling gold is quickly brought,
And, silent, counted out;
The seeker has the boon he sought,
And flushing turns about.
The mother speaks not to deplore;
The father whispers, “Come no more.
And, silent, counted out;
The seeker has the boon he sought,
And flushing turns about.
The mother speaks not to deplore;
The father whispers, “Come no more.
238
Your sister's portion here you take,
Your mother's jointure too:
Though all were beggared for your sake,
It would not furnish you.”
“Oh! take it all,” the mother cries,
And follows him with streaming eyes.
Your mother's jointure too:
Though all were beggared for your sake,
It would not furnish you.”
“Oh! take it all,” the mother cries,
And follows him with streaming eyes.
I know this only, since that time
A year or so has past.
But seeds of misery and crime
Ripen unearthly fast.
The Hall's entailed, that cannot go;
But there they keep with little show.
A year or so has past.
But seeds of misery and crime
Ripen unearthly fast.
The Hall's entailed, that cannot go;
But there they keep with little show.
And when I heard, three days agone,
A young man at the inn
Had, desperate, shut himself alone,
And died the death of sin,
I said, “The Squire has lost his son;
Wife, there's a grave must be begun.”
A young man at the inn
Had, desperate, shut himself alone,
And died the death of sin,
I said, “The Squire has lost his son;
Wife, there's a grave must be begun.”
239
How came this? through some hidden vein
Of wildness in the blood,
That penitence and deadly pain
Could turn him not to good:
So, when his drunken fury went,
He might not bear his ill-content.
Of wildness in the blood,
That penitence and deadly pain
Could turn him not to good:
So, when his drunken fury went,
He might not bear his ill-content.
Old man with burning eyes and hair
Like ashes over flame,
Look not too sternly on the heir
Of deeper than thy name:
Thy fiery youth, its guilt, its gains,
Ran their traditions in his veins.
Like ashes over flame,
Look not too sternly on the heir
Of deeper than thy name:
Thy fiery youth, its guilt, its gains,
Ran their traditions in his veins.
Nor wanted he an angel friend;
Still in his clouded eyes,
With hope and promise run to end,
His mother's look would rise,
So prayer might bless his parting breath,
And faith, long banished, come in death.
Still in his clouded eyes,
With hope and promise run to end,
His mother's look would rise,
So prayer might bless his parting breath,
And faith, long banished, come in death.
240
II.
He loved her long through grief and pain,
As long she loved another.
Life was to him her sole domain;
He was to her a brother.
As long she loved another.
Life was to him her sole domain;
He was to her a brother.
When well of love he urged and spake,
Tears on her eyelids glistened;
The heart his wooing strove to wake
Forsook him while she listened.
Tears on her eyelids glistened;
The heart his wooing strove to wake
Forsook him while she listened.
Thus in a mutual twofold search
Each deeper led the other.
She was his wealth, his law, his church;
He was to her a brother.
Each deeper led the other.
She was his wealth, his law, his church;
He was to her a brother.
241
God took him in his early years,
Ere half his youth had flowered.
Then she beheld him through her tears
With the heart's saints embowered.
Ere half his youth had flowered.
Then she beheld him through her tears
With the heart's saints embowered.
Time on her heart's high daring smiled,
A blooming bridal made her,
And, clinging to a three-hours' child,
In the low furrow laid her.
A blooming bridal made her,
And, clinging to a three-hours' child,
In the low furrow laid her.
But to my sight doth crowned appear
Each faithful, fond endeavor:
Ralph called her his, one happy year;
And Herbert, his forever.
Each faithful, fond endeavor:
Ralph called her his, one happy year;
And Herbert, his forever.
242
THE ROSE IN THE JOURNAL.
Rose, whose matchless beauty
Poets love to praise,
Bind the day that brought him
To the other days;
To the homely duties;
To the things that are,
Like dark weights of nature
Linked to sun and star.
Poets love to praise,
Bind the day that brought him
To the other days;
To the homely duties;
To the things that are,
Like dark weights of nature
Linked to sun and star.
Then the curtain lifted
Of the tent so gray
Showed him fresh and blooming
As careering Day,
Ere his steeds are wearied
With the noontide heat,
Ere the lengthening shadows
Press his loitering feet.
Of the tent so gray
Showed him fresh and blooming
As careering Day,
Ere his steeds are wearied
With the noontide heat,
Ere the lengthening shadows
Press his loitering feet.
243
Like an Angel's garment
Caught in fluttering grasp;
Like a kingly jewel
Set in costliest clasp;
Like a sudden vision
Of the joys that were,
When the shadows darken
And the end draws near,—
Caught in fluttering grasp;
Like a kingly jewel
Set in costliest clasp;
Like a sudden vision
Of the joys that were,
When the shadows darken
And the end draws near,—
Thus among my treasures,
Rosebud, thou shalt lie,
With thy beauty withering
Only to the eye.
Rosebud, thou shalt lie,
With thy beauty withering
Only to the eye.
Roses grow immortal
On the brow of Fame:
These, with all best glories,
Deathless keep thy name.
On the brow of Fame:
These, with all best glories,
Deathless keep thy name.
244
A DREAM OF DISTANCE.
Coldly sunk, as the pearl in the wave,
Is the love I have borne to thee:
Over its stillness the waters lave
Darkly, silently, heavily.
Is the love I have borne to thee:
Over its stillness the waters lave
Darkly, silently, heavily.
All the chances under the sun
Scarce can give that the sunken pearl
See the light of the star she loves,
Lifted out of the water's whirl.
Scarce can give that the sunken pearl
See the light of the star she loves,
Lifted out of the water's whirl.
Of all the chances under the sun,
For that one I'll ne'er seek nor pray:
Let me lie where the tides move on;
Thou, bright Lucifer, keep thy way!
For that one I'll ne'er seek nor pray:
Let me lie where the tides move on;
Thou, bright Lucifer, keep thy way!
245
For the mystical pulse of life
Holds in sympathy divine
Things apart, like the star and pearl;
Things akin, like thy soul and mine.
Holds in sympathy divine
Things apart, like the star and pearl;
Things akin, like thy soul and mine.
246
FAME AND FRIENDSHIP.
The world doth name thee now, and idle men
Exalt their critic skill in praising thee:
At all their words my heart doth bound again;
And praise begetteth praise, as this should be.
Exalt their critic skill in praising thee:
At all their words my heart doth bound again;
And praise begetteth praise, as this should be.
Yet I remember with a jealous love
What time thine unmined wealth lay less in view;
And I was fain the envious clods to move,
And point the hidden diamonds clear as dew.
What time thine unmined wealth lay less in view;
And I was fain the envious clods to move,
And point the hidden diamonds clear as dew.
Methought men's souls, unquestioning of art,
Were then as void of pulse as stock or stone;
Yet, gathering all thy glories in my heart,
My slender trump uplifted them alone.
Were then as void of pulse as stock or stone;
Yet, gathering all thy glories in my heart,
My slender trump uplifted them alone.
247
So, when the arena rings with plaudits loud,
Hear my heart's whisper through the noisy throng;
And let thy fancies, running o'er the crowd,
Pause where the rites of gratitude belong.
Hear my heart's whisper through the noisy throng;
And let thy fancies, running o'er the crowd,
Pause where the rites of gratitude belong.
For I have been a mother to thy fame,
Coaxing with gentle touch the grasp of Fate;
Till, holding high the blazon of thy name,
I cried to all the world, “He shall be great!”
Coaxing with gentle touch the grasp of Fate;
Till, holding high the blazon of thy name,
I cried to all the world, “He shall be great!”
248
A WOMAN'S PRAYER.
Father of great mercy! hear me mildly:
One I love is tried and hindered sore;
For the harrows of temptation wildly
Tear his green and blooming purpose o'er.
One I love is tried and hindered sore;
For the harrows of temptation wildly
Tear his green and blooming purpose o'er.
Send thine angels, as the Spring her beauties
Rains on thorny branches wild and sear,
Lighting up Life's worn and wintry duties
With the glories they were made to bear.
Rains on thorny branches wild and sear,
Lighting up Life's worn and wintry duties
With the glories they were made to bear.
Send them in the panoply of heaven
Like a cohort sheathed in burnished gold;
Send them thick as falling dews of even
With soft arms to shelter and infold.
Like a cohort sheathed in burnished gold;
Send them thick as falling dews of even
With soft arms to shelter and infold.
249
Send them, while I coin my life as ransom
For the holy triumph they must win;
Take the uncounted pulses of my bosom;
Keep the thing I love from deadly sin.
For the holy triumph they must win;
Take the uncounted pulses of my bosom;
Keep the thing I love from deadly sin.
Slow the answer gathers, “Stay thy pleading;
From his birth my help around him lies:
He, the angel in his breast unheeding,
Should escape the legions of the skies.”
From his birth my help around him lies:
He, the angel in his breast unheeding,
Should escape the legions of the skies.”
250
THE LAST BIRD.
Little Bird that singest
Far atop this warm December day,
Heaven bestead thee, that thou wingest,
Ere the welcome song is done, thy way
Far atop this warm December day,
Heaven bestead thee, that thou wingest,
Ere the welcome song is done, thy way
To more certain weather,
Where, built high and solemnly, the skies,
Shaken by no storm together,
Fixed in vaults of steadfast sapphire rise!
Where, built high and solemnly, the skies,
Shaken by no storm together,
Fixed in vaults of steadfast sapphire rise!
There the smile that mocks us
Answers with its warm serenity;
There the prison-ice that locks us
Melts forgotten in a purple sea.
Answers with its warm serenity;
There the prison-ice that locks us
Melts forgotten in a purple sea.
251
There thy tuneful brothers,
In the palm's green plumage waiting long,
Mate them with the myriad others,
Like a broken rainbow bound with song.
In the palm's green plumage waiting long,
Mate them with the myriad others,
Like a broken rainbow bound with song.
Winter scarce is hidden,
Veiled within this fair, deceitful sky:
Fly, ere, from his ambush bidden,
He descend in ruin swift and nigh!
Veiled within this fair, deceitful sky:
Fly, ere, from his ambush bidden,
He descend in ruin swift and nigh!
By the Summer stately,
Truant, thou wast fondly reared and bred:
Dost thou linger here so lately,
Knowing not thy beauteous friend is dead,—
Truant, thou wast fondly reared and bred:
Dost thou linger here so lately,
Knowing not thy beauteous friend is dead,—
Like to hearts, that, clinging
Fervent where their first delight was fed,
Move us with untimely singing
Of the hopes whose blossom-time is sped?
Fervent where their first delight was fed,
Move us with untimely singing
Of the hopes whose blossom-time is sped?
252
Beauties have their hour,
Safely perched on the spring-budding tree:
For the ripened soul is trust and power.
And beyond, the calm eternity.
Safely perched on the spring-budding tree:
For the ripened soul is trust and power.
And beyond, the calm eternity.
253
FAREWELL TO HAVANA.
My sight is blank, my heart is lorn;
My tropic trance of joy I mourn,—
That stolen summer of delight,
Dreamed on the breast of wintry night,
When sad, true souls abide the North,
And we, love-truants, issued forth
To find, with steady sail unfurled,
The glowing centre of the world.
My tropic trance of joy I mourn,—
That stolen summer of delight,
Dreamed on the breast of wintry night,
When sad, true souls abide the North,
And we, love-truants, issued forth
To find, with steady sail unfurled,
The glowing centre of the world.
The glorious sights went fleeting by;
I had no hold on earth or sky:
Two little hands, one helpless heart,
Could claim and keep so small a part.
A shadow of the stately palm;
A burnish of the noontide calm;
A dream of faces new and strange,
Darkened and lit with sudden change;
A joy of flowers unearthly fair
In giant Nature's tangled hair;
A joy of fruits of other hue
And savor than my childhood knew;
A sorrow, as the vista grew,
Longer and lesser, cherished too;
A pang of parting, heart-bereft
Of all I had,—is all I've left.
I had no hold on earth or sky:
Two little hands, one helpless heart,
Could claim and keep so small a part.
A shadow of the stately palm;
A burnish of the noontide calm;
254
Darkened and lit with sudden change;
A joy of flowers unearthly fair
In giant Nature's tangled hair;
A joy of fruits of other hue
And savor than my childhood knew;
A sorrow, as the vista grew,
Longer and lesser, cherished too;
A pang of parting, heart-bereft
Of all I had,—is all I've left.
To cheer my journey what remains
Towards the rude heights where Winter reigns?
What love-nursed thought shall shield my breast
Warmer than cloak or sable vest?
One hope serene all comfort brings,—
Who made thy bonds did lend thy wings;
Who sends thee from this faery reign
Once brought thee here, and may again.
Towards the rude heights where Winter reigns?
What love-nursed thought shall shield my breast
Warmer than cloak or sable vest?
One hope serene all comfort brings,—
Who made thy bonds did lend thy wings;
Who sends thee from this faery reign
Once brought thee here, and may again.
255
A WILD NIGHT.
The storm is sweeping o'er the land,
And raging o'er the sea:
It urgeth sharp and dismal sounds,
The Psalm of Misery.
And raging o'er the sea:
It urgeth sharp and dismal sounds,
The Psalm of Misery.
The straining of the cordage now,
The creaking of a spar,
The deep dumb shock the vessel feels
When billows strike and jar,—
The creaking of a spar,
The deep dumb shock the vessel feels
When billows strike and jar,—
It breathes of distant seamen's hearts
That think upon their wives;
Of wretches clinging to the mast,
And wrestling for their lives.
That think upon their wives;
Of wretches clinging to the mast,
And wrestling for their lives.
256
The clouds are flying through the sky
Like spectres of affright:
Yon pale witch moon doth blast them all
With bleared and ghastly light.
Like spectres of affright:
Yon pale witch moon doth blast them all
With bleared and ghastly light.
Great Demons flutter through the dark
Flame touched, with dusky wing;
And Passion crouches out of sight
Like a forbidden thing.
Flame touched, with dusky wing;
And Passion crouches out of sight
Like a forbidden thing.
The blast doth scourge the forest through,
Great oaks, and bushes small;
And God, the fable of the fools,
Looks silently on all.
Great oaks, and bushes small;
And God, the fable of the fools,
Looks silently on all.
Oh! if He watches, as I know,
Safe let Him keep our rest,
And give my little ones and me
The shelter of His breast.
Safe let Him keep our rest,
And give my little ones and me
The shelter of His breast.
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No harm shall come on earth, we trust;
But, if mischance must be,
Most let him help those weary souls
That struggle with the sea!
But, if mischance must be,
Most let him help those weary souls
That struggle with the sea!
261
MOTHER'S NONSENSE.
Where are the eyes of the Lovely One,—
The sweet blue eyes of the Lovely One?
Oh! here they shine
To comfort mine,
The cloudless eyes of the Lovely One.
The sweet blue eyes of the Lovely One?
Oh! here they shine
To comfort mine,
The cloudless eyes of the Lovely One.
Where are the hands of the Lovely One,—
The tiny hands of the Lovely One?
They grasp the air,
So small and fair,
Seeking angel's fingers, my Lovely One!
The tiny hands of the Lovely One?
They grasp the air,
So small and fair,
Seeking angel's fingers, my Lovely One!
Where is the mouth of the Lovely One,—
The cunning mouth of the Lovely One?
I kiss it so,
It cannot say no,
The sweet wee mouth of the Lovely One.
The cunning mouth of the Lovely One?
I kiss it so,
It cannot say no,
The sweet wee mouth of the Lovely One.
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And where is the place of the Lovely One,—
The happy place of the Lovely One?
On mother's knee
High throneth he;
And her heart is the home of the Lovely One.
The happy place of the Lovely One?
On mother's knee
High throneth he;
And her heart is the home of the Lovely One.
263
THE BABE'S LESSON.
I was saying “Avè, avè,”
Over a lost delight,
When Baby, scarce five moonlights old,
Looked up with wondering sight.
Then his untutored organ
Caught up the tragic tone,
And with my spent sigh blended soft
A music of its own.
Over a lost delight,
When Baby, scarce five moonlights old,
Looked up with wondering sight.
Then his untutored organ
Caught up the tragic tone,
And with my spent sigh blended soft
A music of its own.
I was weary of my burthen,
Desiring not to be;
When thus unto my thoughts discoursed
The babe upon my knee:
“Why, mother, sighing ever?
What boots thy cherished woe?
What matter through the mighty sea
If sweet or bitter flow?
Desiring not to be;
When thus unto my thoughts discoursed
The babe upon my knee:
“Why, mother, sighing ever?
What boots thy cherished woe?
What matter through the mighty sea
If sweet or bitter flow?
264
Behold thy gallant champion,
New lighted from the skies!
Strong arm and word, and heart of cheer,
Are in him, blossom-wise.
A man, and he who wrongs me
Escapes his lesson not;
But who should grieve my mother's heart
Must dearly pay the scot.
New lighted from the skies!
Strong arm and word, and heart of cheer,
Are in him, blossom-wise.
A man, and he who wrongs me
Escapes his lesson not;
But who should grieve my mother's heart
Must dearly pay the scot.
Then wait, thou silly mother,
The days till I am grown:
Thou knowest a many heart like thine
Doth keep its watch alone.
Set up Prayer's golden ladder
That brings the heaven-sent joy;
And with sweet hope and patient faith
Nourish thy tender boy.”
The days till I am grown:
Thou knowest a many heart like thine
Doth keep its watch alone.
Set up Prayer's golden ladder
That brings the heaven-sent joy;
And with sweet hope and patient faith
Nourish thy tender boy.”
“I will, I will, my dearest,
Else 'twere unblest to live;
The heaven is wide above our head,
And God is free to give.
But I was not weeping, baby,
Nor raising a hand of might;
I was only saying Avè
Over a lost delight.”
Else 'twere unblest to live;
The heaven is wide above our head,
And God is free to give.
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Nor raising a hand of might;
I was only saying Avè
Over a lost delight.”
272
MY CRUCIFIX.
Baby sweet is dying,—he is dying.
Place the crucifix above his head;
It conveys a sympathetic sighing,
Tears of kindred with the tears we shed.
Place the crucifix above his head;
It conveys a sympathetic sighing,
Tears of kindred with the tears we shed.
For no succor from this head anointed
Do I bring its sorrow near his pain:
Death must come where dying is appointed;
But this dead one saith, “I live again.”
Do I bring its sorrow near his pain:
Death must come where dying is appointed;
But this dead one saith, “I live again.”
Well I deem some virtue must be hidden
In the hero heart that would not die:
By those firm lips, Baby shall be bidden
To take hope, and live immortally.
In the hero heart that would not die:
By those firm lips, Baby shall be bidden
To take hope, and live immortally.
281
CHOPIN.
We saw him in the death-nest laid;
His wings were folded, sad and still;
The glowing tropic of his breast
Endured no more Life's winter chill.
His wings were folded, sad and still;
The glowing tropic of his breast
Endured no more Life's winter chill.
But now, through Fancy's clouded gate,
He walks with Nature's spirit-kings;
The sceptre in his palsied hands
Strikes rapture at her deepest springs.
He walks with Nature's spirit-kings;
The sceptre in his palsied hands
Strikes rapture at her deepest springs.
His life was like an opal gem
That breaks in many a painful thrill:
The risen rainbow of his soul
The heaven of song is spanning still;
While happy Love and Grief sublime
Unite their emblems on his brow,
And pave with zeal his shadowy court,—
A Lover once, a Master now.
That breaks in many a painful thrill:
The risen rainbow of his soul
The heaven of song is spanning still;
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Unite their emblems on his brow,
And pave with zeal his shadowy court,—
A Lover once, a Master now.
303
A VISIT TO C. H.
Let us sit with you, sister, before the low fire,
The scanty rag-carpet sufficing our feet:
You cannot command, and we need not require,
The window well shaded and soft-cushioned seat.
The scanty rag-carpet sufficing our feet:
You cannot command, and we need not require,
The window well shaded and soft-cushioned seat.
The children of pride scarcely come to your door,
And we who have entered walk not in their ways;
But experience brings to the rich and the poor
One value abiding in life's changeful days.
And we who have entered walk not in their ways;
But experience brings to the rich and the poor
One value abiding in life's changeful days.
You are homely in breeding? Some one of your race
Had a spark of high blood, to immortals akin:
You are loath to be seen in this desolate place?
What honor may lack where the Muse is within?
Had a spark of high blood, to immortals akin:
You are loath to be seen in this desolate place?
What honor may lack where the Muse is within?
304
A presence I feel in the God-lightened air,
The spell of the art I have followed so long:
In your calico garment and rough-twisted hair
Let us speak of your queendom, poor sister of song.
The spell of the art I have followed so long:
In your calico garment and rough-twisted hair
Let us speak of your queendom, poor sister of song.
For, well may we know it, the tap that you hear,
When you lay down the needle, and take up the pen,
Is the summons august that the highest revere,
The greatest that visits the children of men.
When you lay down the needle, and take up the pen,
Is the summons august that the highest revere,
The greatest that visits the children of men.
The fountain of song in your bosom arose
When the small baby pillow was tenantless left?
You share with all mortals life's burthen of woes;
But all have not music, when grieved and bereft.
When the small baby pillow was tenantless left?
You share with all mortals life's burthen of woes;
But all have not music, when grieved and bereft.
You dream o er the wash-tub, strive vainly to fix
Your thought on the small household matter in hand?
Some spices, no doubt, in your condiments mix,
Some flavors your neighbors can scarcely command.
Your thought on the small household matter in hand?
Some spices, no doubt, in your condiments mix,
Some flavors your neighbors can scarcely command.
305
The world is so hard, and the world is so cold?
And the dear-bought deliverance comes scanty and slow?
Say, whether is better,—its frosts to behold,
Or to share its heart winter, and shed no more glow?
And the dear-bought deliverance comes scanty and slow?
Say, whether is better,—its frosts to behold,
Or to share its heart winter, and shed no more glow?
I have found a rich blossom astray on the heath;
In sordid surroundings, an altar of love;
Or lashed in a cart, beyond beauty and breath,
The steed that should carry the bidding of Jove.
In sordid surroundings, an altar of love;
Or lashed in a cart, beyond beauty and breath,
The steed that should carry the bidding of Jove.
The town that hums near us has rich folk, besure,—
Its man of the Congress, its Mayor with his state,
Its lords of the spindle who pillage the poor,
Its pampered young people who quarrel and mate.
Its man of the Congress, its Mayor with his state,
Its lords of the spindle who pillage the poor,
Its pampered young people who quarrel and mate.
But not for their scanning I come here to-day;
The rich and the proud are forever the same:
My feet, poet sister, have found out this way,
Unsought and unsummoned, your kinship to claim.
The rich and the proud are forever the same:
My feet, poet sister, have found out this way,
Unsought and unsummoned, your kinship to claim.
311
HENRY WILSON'S SILVER WEDDING.
The ancients had an age of gold,
To silver thence descending,
While yet in baser metal told
The series had its ending.
To silver thence descending,
While yet in baser metal told
The series had its ending.
The golden time bore men divine;
The silver, men heroic;
The brazen did to deeds decline,
Rebuked of sage and stoic.
The silver, men heroic;
The brazen did to deeds decline,
Rebuked of sage and stoic.
The mystic trine by Plato cast
Was thus reversed from Nature:
The gold was in the unknown Past,
Not in the unknown Future.
Was thus reversed from Nature:
The gold was in the unknown Past,
Not in the unknown Future.
312
Our country knows the age of brass,
Whose wary politician
Digs in that ore the steps that pass
To recognized position.
Whose wary politician
Digs in that ore the steps that pass
To recognized position.
But Wilson, from the lowlier base
The silver vantage gaining,
Climbs ever towards the golden grace,
With labor uncomplaining.
The silver vantage gaining,
Climbs ever towards the golden grace,
With labor uncomplaining.
Well may the country thrive like him
To whom her heart's beholden,—
His Present's Silver never dim,
His Future always Golden!
To whom her heart's beholden,—
His Present's Silver never dim,
His Future always Golden!
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WELCOME.
They are coming, O our brothers! they are coming;
From the formless distance creeps the growing sound,
Like a rill-fed torrent, in whose rapid summing
Stream doth follow stream, till waves of joy abound.
From the formless distance creeps the growing sound,
Like a rill-fed torrent, in whose rapid summing
Stream doth follow stream, till waves of joy abound.
These have languished in the shadow of the prison,
Long with hunger pains and bitter fever low:
Welcome back our lost, from living graves arisen,
From the wild despite and malice of the foe.
Long with hunger pains and bitter fever low:
Welcome back our lost, from living graves arisen,
From the wild despite and malice of the foe.
These have heard the cannon roar, the musket rattle;
Where grim death affronted, these have flown before:
Set their standards in the fiery tide of battle
Till the red waves parted, and the right went o'er.
Where grim death affronted, these have flown before:
Set their standards in the fiery tide of battle
Till the red waves parted, and the right went o'er.
325
As the Genii of the clouds refresh with water
Plants and precious seeds that bear the life of States,
These have poured their blood in meadows sown with slaughter,
Where the harvest of the Land's redemption waits.
Plants and precious seeds that bear the life of States,
These have poured their blood in meadows sown with slaughter,
Where the harvest of the Land's redemption waits.
Haste, ye mothers! let your household vigils slacken;
In your glad attire arrayed, go banded forth:
For these martial men, these ranks the sun doth blacken,
Are your babes indeed, the jewels of the North.
In your glad attire arrayed, go banded forth:
For these martial men, these ranks the sun doth blacken,
Are your babes indeed, the jewels of the North.
By the loves ye prize and live for, ask that never
Need so sore again the heart of home invade:
Neither brazen trump, nor wires that wail and quiver,
Bid you yield the living, and take back the dead.
Need so sore again the heart of home invade:
Neither brazen trump, nor wires that wail and quiver,
Bid you yield the living, and take back the dead.
Better let them build who rear the house of nations
Than that Fate should rock it to foundation stone:
Leave the earth her storms, the stars their perturbations,
Steadfast welfare stays where Justice binds her zone.
Than that Fate should rock it to foundation stone:
Leave the earth her storms, the stars their perturbations,
Steadfast welfare stays where Justice binds her zone.
326
When the human faults that mix in human labor
Miss the measure set to caution and constrain,
Let the wise of heart instruct his ruder neighbor,
Let the loving soul hold violence in chain.
Miss the measure set to caution and constrain,
Let the wise of heart instruct his ruder neighbor,
Let the loving soul hold violence in chain.
But when Falsehood lifts her challenge cry stupendous,
When the fiery angel bars our gates of bliss,
Ask the holy heavens such hosts again to lend us,
With such leaders, such a righteous cause as this.
When the fiery angel bars our gates of bliss,
Ask the holy heavens such hosts again to lend us,
With such leaders, such a righteous cause as this.
THE END.
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