 | The White Pilgrim and Other Poems |  |
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PEACE—AND HONOUR.
(APRIL 19TH, 1881.)
Hushed are the sounds of party strife
In reverence round the quiet bed,
As all the busy stream of Life
Seems stayed beside one spirit fled:
And England sends the message on,
To West and East—A great man gone.
In reverence round the quiet bed,
As all the busy stream of Life
Seems stayed beside one spirit fled:
And England sends the message on,
To West and East—A great man gone.
Strange power of Death! Once laid on him
With gentlest touch her royal hand,
Unbidden tears the eyes bedim,
And manliest hearts are half unmanned.
Our little discords melt and cease;
He lies in Honour—and at Peace.
With gentlest touch her royal hand,
Unbidden tears the eyes bedim,
And manliest hearts are half unmanned.
Our little discords melt and cease;
He lies in Honour—and at Peace.
Yes—honoured in the hearts of those
Who would his living purpose cross,
By the world's law of friends and foes,
Suspended in a country's loss;
While for his peace may no man spare
His tribute to the country's prayer.
Who would his living purpose cross,
By the world's law of friends and foes,
Suspended in a country's loss;
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His tribute to the country's prayer.
Strange power of Death! How small they seem,
Our quarrels, grudges—all put by,
The baseless fabric of a dream,
Beside the great reality.
We read, ere yet the clay be cold,
In deaths like this, Death's secret told.
Our quarrels, grudges—all put by,
The baseless fabric of a dream,
Beside the great reality.
We read, ere yet the clay be cold,
In deaths like this, Death's secret told.
As to her breast the generous sea
River and rivulet draws in,
Till all the parted streams that be
In that maternity are kin,
Even so the pale Magician charms
All minds, all wisdoms, to his arms.
River and rivulet draws in,
Till all the parted streams that be
In that maternity are kin,
Even so the pale Magician charms
All minds, all wisdoms, to his arms.
He, but a few short days ago
Held in a nation's half mistrust,
Here feared, there followed, lying low,
Where all may trample on his dust,
Lies safe with laurels round his brow—
His party's then, his England's now.
Held in a nation's half mistrust,
Here feared, there followed, lying low,
Where all may trample on his dust,
Lies safe with laurels round his brow—
His party's then, his England's now.
Strong loves he conquered on his way,
Strong as the enmities he woke,
And the loosed passions of the day
In praise and anger round him broke:
Anger and enmity o'erthrown,
Death has for sister—Love alone.
Strong as the enmities he woke,
And the loosed passions of the day
In praise and anger round him broke:
Anger and enmity o'erthrown,
Death has for sister—Love alone.
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Men called him alien, deemed him set
On dreams of empire not of ours,
And prone true empire to forget
In the long clash of jarring powers:
But England's 'scutcheon blazons still
The motto of his life—I will.
On dreams of empire not of ours,
And prone true empire to forget
In the long clash of jarring powers:
But England's 'scutcheon blazons still
The motto of his life—I will.
In steady purpose, steady toil,
He followed, and he won the prize,
Which through the senate's fierce turmoil
Lighted, but dazzled not his eyes;
Nor rank nor fortune smoothed the course;
He dared, and conquered, and by force.
He followed, and he won the prize,
Which through the senate's fierce turmoil
Lighted, but dazzled not his eyes;
Nor rank nor fortune smoothed the course;
He dared, and conquered, and by force.
As patient as the great should be,
As watchful as the purposed are,
He marked power's ebbing, flowing sea,
Now sparkling near, now murmuring far,
Till with strong hand he grasped the helm,
Through storm and shine to steer a realm.
As watchful as the purposed are,
He marked power's ebbing, flowing sea,
Now sparkling near, now murmuring far,
Till with strong hand he grasped the helm,
Through storm and shine to steer a realm.
And when, life's threescore years and ten
In the long passage overpast,
He yielded up the helm again,
He stood as steady to the last:
Not Cæsar's robe, when Cæsar died,
Was folded with a calmer pride.
In the long passage overpast,
He yielded up the helm again,
He stood as steady to the last:
Not Cæsar's robe, when Cæsar died,
Was folded with a calmer pride.
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Calmly he gave the reins of State,
As first he held them, self-possessed;
And undismayed, as unelate,
Turned to the love once loved the best,
And wooed, from strife of tongues apart,
The Muse of Story to his heart.
As first he held them, self-possessed;
And undismayed, as unelate,
Turned to the love once loved the best,
And wooed, from strife of tongues apart,
The Muse of Story to his heart.
So, England's Minister, good-night!
Nor praise nor blame can touch thee now;
Safe from the fierce and public light
Which beat upon thy vessel's prow:
Thy place is with the great alone,
Not one's, nor other's. England's own.
Nor praise nor blame can touch thee now;
Safe from the fierce and public light
Which beat upon thy vessel's prow:
Thy place is with the great alone,
Not one's, nor other's. England's own.
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