 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
241
SONGS.
243
DYING.
A CHORUS OF ANGELS.
Come away! come away! Life is too sad for thee;
Chill are its winds on thy delicate breast!
Earth is too rude for thee—Heaven shall be glad for thee—
Come away, lovely one: come to thy rest!
Low in thy narrow bed,
Lay down thy gentle head;
Give back to mother Earth all she can crave:
All thy mortality,
Doomed to finality,
Leave it behind in the dust of the grave.
Chill are its winds on thy delicate breast!
Earth is too rude for thee—Heaven shall be glad for thee—
Come away, lovely one: come to thy rest!
Low in thy narrow bed,
Lay down thy gentle head;
Give back to mother Earth all she can crave:
All thy mortality,
Doomed to finality,
Leave it behind in the dust of the grave.
244
Come away! come away! Earth is not meant for thee:
Beautiful spirit, mount up to the sky!
Men who have lost thee shall mourn and lament for thee,
Thou shalt rejoice in thy glory on high.
Spread thy bright wings, and soar
Spotless for evermore;
Sin-stained no longer, but white and forgiven:
Heir of infinity,
Robed in divinity,
Come away, happy one—come up to Heaven!
Beautiful spirit, mount up to the sky!
Men who have lost thee shall mourn and lament for thee,
Thou shalt rejoice in thy glory on high.
Spread thy bright wings, and soar
Spotless for evermore;
Sin-stained no longer, but white and forgiven:
Heir of infinity,
Robed in divinity,
Come away, happy one—come up to Heaven!
245
THE BROOK.
Oft by the margin of this brook,
When summer eves grew long,
I've roamed, and dreamed, and read the book
Of love and true love's wrong;
And pined, poor visionary boy!
That knew, nor thought of guile,
To tempt the hidden depths of joy
That dwelt in woman's smile.
The blithe birds sang, the sweet bells rang,
And fair the sunlight shone,
And the brook made music as it went
Merrily ever on.
When summer eves grew long,
I've roamed, and dreamed, and read the book
Of love and true love's wrong;
And pined, poor visionary boy!
That knew, nor thought of guile,
To tempt the hidden depths of joy
That dwelt in woman's smile.
The blithe birds sang, the sweet bells rang,
And fair the sunlight shone,
And the brook made music as it went
Merrily ever on.
I rushed into the maze of men,
And found the joy I sought,
A joy I would not taste again,
For misery it brought.
I only tasted to despair;
And here again, forlorn,
Beside the stream I doze and dream,
And sigh that I was born.
The blithe birds sing, the sweet bells ring,
The brooklet chafes the shore;
But the music and the joy are lost
Ever and evermore!
And found the joy I sought,
246
For misery it brought.
I only tasted to despair;
And here again, forlorn,
Beside the stream I doze and dream,
And sigh that I was born.
The blithe birds sing, the sweet bells ring,
The brooklet chafes the shore;
But the music and the joy are lost
Ever and evermore!
247
VANITY LET IT BE.
Through wild-wood valleys roaming,
A maiden by my side,
I vowed to love her evermore,
My beautiful, my bride.
“All is vanity! vanity!”
A wise man said to me:
I pressed my true love's yielding hand,
And answered—frank and free—
“If this be vanity who'd be wise?
Vanity let it be!”
A maiden by my side,
I vowed to love her evermore,
My beautiful, my bride.
“All is vanity! vanity!”
A wise man said to me:
I pressed my true love's yielding hand,
And answered—frank and free—
“If this be vanity who'd be wise?
Vanity let it be!”
I sat with boon companions,
And quaffed the joyous wine,
We drank to Worth with three times three,
To Love with nine times nine.
“All is vanity! vanity!”
Said Wisdom, scorning me:
We filled our goblets once again,
And sang with hearty glee—
“If this be vanity, Hip! Hurrah!
Vanity let it be!”
And quaffed the joyous wine,
We drank to Worth with three times three,
To Love with nine times nine.
248
Said Wisdom, scorning me:
We filled our goblets once again,
And sang with hearty glee—
“If this be vanity, Hip! Hurrah!
Vanity let it be!”
249
SPIRITS AND ANGELS.
Lonely musing in the twilight,
When the lengthening shadows fall,
Spirits bright and holy Angels
Come obedient to my call:
Lost and loved ones gone before me,
Phantoms fair from memory won,
Seem to flit before my Fancy,
Midway to the setting sun.
When the lengthening shadows fall,
Spirits bright and holy Angels
Come obedient to my call:
Lost and loved ones gone before me,
Phantoms fair from memory won,
Seem to flit before my Fancy,
Midway to the setting sun.
I can see them, robed in Beauty,
Some rejoicing, some forlorn,
Friendly all, and sent to guide me
Out of Darkness into Morn.
On the chimes I hear their voices
Whispering solace from the skies.
Holy Angels, hover near me!
Fit my soul for Paradise!
Some rejoicing, some forlorn,
Friendly all, and sent to guide me
Out of Darkness into Morn.
On the chimes I hear their voices
Whispering solace from the skies.
Holy Angels, hover near me!
Fit my soul for Paradise!
250
LOVE DEFENDED.
Once I thought Love had wrought all the griefs that haunt me;
All the care and despair laid on me to daunt me;
All the fears, and the tears shed in life's long trial.
Now I know 'tis not so, and make bold denial.
All the care and despair laid on me to daunt me;
All the fears, and the tears shed in life's long trial.
Now I know 'tis not so, and make bold denial.
Love has giv'n hope of Heaven—found when grief oppressed me;
Thoughts that fired and inspired, purified and blessed me.
Light in rain—joy in pain—in all doubt, endeavour,
Come what will, Love shall still be my guide for ever!
Thoughts that fired and inspired, purified and blessed me.
Light in rain—joy in pain—in all doubt, endeavour,
Come what will, Love shall still be my guide for ever!
251
LOVE IS DEAD.
Love is dead; Love is dead:
Where shall we bury him?
Bury him under the deep, deep sea,
Moody and vicious,
Wild and capricious,
Dark and deceitful and cruel as he.
Where shall we bury him?
Bury him under the deep, deep sea,
Moody and vicious,
Wild and capricious,
Dark and deceitful and cruel as he.
Love is dead; Love is dead:
This be his epitaph—
“Here lies a spirit—far-seeing—yet blind,
Fathomless mystery,
Blood-red in history,
Tyrant, and blessing, and curse of mankind.”
This be his epitaph—
“Here lies a spirit—far-seeing—yet blind,
Fathomless mystery,
Blood-red in history,
Tyrant, and blessing, and curse of mankind.”
252
Love is dead; Love is dead:
Then must Earth follow him—
Earth and her children all born of his breath:
Man and his glory,
Time and its story,
Suns, stars, and systems, down! down into Death!
Then must Earth follow him—
Earth and her children all born of his breath:
Man and his glory,
Time and its story,
Suns, stars, and systems, down! down into Death!
253
BAR THE DOOR.
'Tis true, good wife, our gold is scant;
But Discontent is sin,
And there is nothing that we want
That Labour cannot win.
We'll keep the fireside bright at home,
And if the wild winds roar,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
But Discontent is sin,
And there is nothing that we want
That Labour cannot win.
We'll keep the fireside bright at home,
And if the wild winds roar,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
Though neighbour Smith sell dust for spice,
And rob the hedge for tea;
Though Jones's scales, with constant vice,
Make two and two but three,
On wealth acquired by means like these,
However large its store,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
And rob the hedge for tea;
Though Jones's scales, with constant vice,
Make two and two but three,
254
However large its store,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
When Folly knocks and tells its tale
Of sudden fortunes won,
And hints of schemes that cannot fail—
Bright glittering in the sun;
In Folly's face, that cheats itself,
And many a thousand more,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
Of sudden fortunes won,
And hints of schemes that cannot fail—
Bright glittering in the sun;
In Folly's face, that cheats itself,
And many a thousand more,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
When Dodge comes down to bribe our town,
Head-weak, but money-strong,
And fawns and lies, and vainly tries
To prove the right the wrong:
His bribes, his party, and himself,
We'll utterly abhor,
And up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
Head-weak, but money-strong,
And fawns and lies, and vainly tries
To prove the right the wrong:
His bribes, his party, and himself,
We'll utterly abhor,
And up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
255
When asked to quit my own fireside,
To mix in public brawls,
I'll do my work and never shirk,
Though all the parish calls;
Mine own affairs claim all my cares,
And when the town's implore,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
To mix in public brawls,
I'll do my work and never shirk,
Though all the parish calls;
Mine own affairs claim all my cares,
And when the town's implore,
We'll up and bar the door, good wife—
Up and bar the door.
256
THE LITTLE MAN.
There was a little, very little,
Quiet little man,
He wore a little overcoat
The colour of the tan;
And when his weekly wage was earned
On Saturday at night,
He had but half-a-crown to spare
To keep his spirit light;
“But that,”;quoth he, and twirled his thumb,
So blithe he was, and free,
“Is quite enough for happiness
For a little man like me.”
Quiet little man,
He wore a little overcoat
The colour of the tan;
And when his weekly wage was earned
On Saturday at night,
He had but half-a-crown to spare
To keep his spirit light;
“But that,”;quoth he, and twirled his thumb,
So blithe he was, and free,
“Is quite enough for happiness
For a little man like me.”
257
And oft this little, very little,
Happy little man,
Would talk a little to himself
About the great world's plan:
“Though people think me very poor,
I feel I'm very glad,
And this I'm sure could scarcely be
If I were very bad.
Rich knaves who cannot rest o' nights
At every turn I see,
While cosy sleep unbidden comes
To a quiet man like me.
Happy little man,
Would talk a little to himself
About the great world's plan:
“Though people think me very poor,
I feel I'm very glad,
And this I'm sure could scarcely be
If I were very bad.
Rich knaves who cannot rest o' nights
At every turn I see,
While cosy sleep unbidden comes
To a quiet man like me.
“For though I'm little, very little,
Do whate'er I can,
Yet every morning when I shave
I shave an honest man;
And every night when I go home,
My winsome little wife,
Receives me smiling at the door,
And loves me more than life:—
And this is joy that kings themselves,
If thoughts were spoken free,
Might give their sceptres to exchange
With a little man like me.
Do whate'er I can,
Yet every morning when I shave
I shave an honest man;
And every night when I go home,
My winsome little wife,
Receives me smiling at the door,
And loves me more than life:—
258
If thoughts were spoken free,
Might give their sceptres to exchange
With a little man like me.
“And I've a little, quite a little,
Bonnie little child,
A little maid with golden hair,
And blue eyes bright and mild;
She sits and prattles on my knee,
She's merry as a song,
She's pleasant as a ray of light,
She keeps my heart from wrong.
And so, let kingdoms rise or fall,
I'll earn my daily fee,
And think the world is good enough
For a little man like me.”
Bonnie little child,
A little maid with golden hair,
And blue eyes bright and mild;
She sits and prattles on my knee,
She's merry as a song,
She's pleasant as a ray of light,
She keeps my heart from wrong.
And so, let kingdoms rise or fall,
I'll earn my daily fee,
And think the world is good enough
For a little man like me.”
259
A CHRISTMAS GLEE.
Pleasant is the sound of the waves upon the shore,Racing and rejoicing, and rolling evermore;
Pleasant is the chant of the torrent on the hill,
Singing to the lowlands all the midnight chill;
Pleasant is the tune of the north wind, ringing sharp,
Playing on the forest as a maiden on a harp;
But pleasanter and merrier the gurgling of the wine,
Where Wit and Wisdom gather, and the eyes of Beauty shine;
Where the glasses clink as treble to the bass of our “Ha! Ha!”
Fill the bumpers up again! “Hip! Hip! Hip! Hurrah!”
260
HEY! THE GREEN HOLLY!
My false love has sailed o'er the wide wild main,
The blossoms fall when the tempests blow,—
And left me alone to my sorrow and pain;
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And I never shall see his face again.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
The blossoms fall when the tempests blow,—
And left me alone to my sorrow and pain;
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And I never shall see his face again.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
But the tall tree braves the sudden blast,
Though the blossoms fall when the tempests blow,
And the days to come may be fair as the past,—
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And my first love need not be my last.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
Though the blossoms fall when the tempests blow,
And the days to come may be fair as the past,—
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And my first love need not be my last.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
261
Let him go—I'll neither weep nor sigh:
Though the blossoms fall when the tempests blow,
After the cloud comes a light in the sky,—
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And somebody loves me, and somebody's nigh.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
Though the blossoms fall when the tempests blow,
After the cloud comes a light in the sky,—
Green is the grass beneath the snow:
And somebody loves me, and somebody's nigh.
Sing, Hey! the green Holly—the Ivy, oh!
262
THE BONNIE WEE BIRD.
When I was young, and blithe, and free,
A wee bird sat in the hawthorn tree.
Ever at morn its sweet notes rang,
Ever at night it trilled and sang:—
“Love is the ruler of the wise,
Love is the light of earth and skies,
Love is the path to Paradise.”
A wee bird sat in the hawthorn tree.
Ever at morn its sweet notes rang,
Ever at night it trilled and sang:—
“Love is the ruler of the wise,
Love is the light of earth and skies,
Love is the path to Paradise.”
And now that the flush of youth has gone,
Still the bonnie wee bird sings on.
I hear it high in the summer cloud,
I hear it clear when the storm grows loud:—
“The wrong is wrong but for a day;
The wild wind blows the smoke away,
And right is right, for ever and aye.”
Still the bonnie wee bird sings on.
I hear it high in the summer cloud,
I hear it clear when the storm grows loud:—
“The wrong is wrong but for a day;
The wild wind blows the smoke away,
And right is right, for ever and aye.”
263
When nations moan in wild unrest,
By king or kaiser sore opprest,
I hear far off that wee bird's song—
Sad, yet hopeful; sweet, but strong:—
“The sword shall fail them by-and-by,
The people's hour is drawing nigh!”
Bonnie wee bird, sing high! sing high!
By king or kaiser sore opprest,
I hear far off that wee bird's song—
Sad, yet hopeful; sweet, but strong:—
“The sword shall fail them by-and-by,
The people's hour is drawing nigh!”
Bonnie wee bird, sing high! sing high!
264
OUR SOCIAL REPUBLIC.
(AT THE CLUB OF “THE HOOKS AND EYES.”)
In this Republic where we sit,
Each man his glass in hand,
Free as the birds that chant in upper air,
Be this the Charter of our wit,
That all may understand,
And these the taxes every one must bear.
Lightly, brightly,
Let the wit abound;
And temperance pass
In every glass,
That sparkles in our round;
And he who jeers at Woman's Truth,
Or tips his jest with gall,
Or scorns the man that nobly dares be poor—
Whate'er his age, whate'er his youth,
A traitor to us all,
He shall be banished! banished evermore!
Each man his glass in hand,
Free as the birds that chant in upper air,
Be this the Charter of our wit,
That all may understand,
And these the taxes every one must bear.
Lightly, brightly,
Let the wit abound;
And temperance pass
In every glass,
That sparkles in our round;
And he who jeers at Woman's Truth,
Or tips his jest with gall,
265
Whate'er his age, whate'er his youth,
A traitor to us all,
He shall be banished! banished evermore!
But he, the generous citizen,
Whose jests are pure, though keen—
Who laughs his laugh, and sings his hearty song—
Who aids the cause of honest men,
His country and his Queen,
And bears no hate, except the hate of wrong;
Duly, truly,
One of us is he;
To all our rights,
Through joyous nights,
We give him welcome free.
To this Republic where we sit,
Each man the other's friend,
And bolt all knaves and scorners from our door,
To feasts where wisdom, mirth, and wit,
With social pleasures blend,
We make him welcome, welcome evermore!
Whose jests are pure, though keen—
Who laughs his laugh, and sings his hearty song—
Who aids the cause of honest men,
His country and his Queen,
And bears no hate, except the hate of wrong;
Duly, truly,
One of us is he;
To all our rights,
Through joyous nights,
We give him welcome free.
To this Republic where we sit,
Each man the other's friend,
And bolt all knaves and scorners from our door,
To feasts where wisdom, mirth, and wit,
With social pleasures blend,
We make him welcome, welcome evermore!
266
THE CHOICE.
I will tell, for I have chosen
Where my bosom friend shall be;—
Not where hollyhocks are flaunting,
But where violets scent the lea;
Not where gaudy parrots chatter,
But where larks and linnets sing;
Not with dahlias of the Autumn,
But with lilies of the Spring.
Ever birds of plainest plumage
Scatter sweetest music round;
Ever flowers of richest odour
Grow the nearest to the ground.
Where my bosom friend shall be;—
Not where hollyhocks are flaunting,
But where violets scent the lea;
Not where gaudy parrots chatter,
But where larks and linnets sing;
Not with dahlias of the Autumn,
But with lilies of the Spring.
Ever birds of plainest plumage
Scatter sweetest music round;
Ever flowers of richest odour
Grow the nearest to the ground.
267
So I'll tell my heart's best secret,
Where my bosom friend shall be;
Not where haughty riches gather
Needy knaves to bend the knee;
Not where Pride looks down on Merit,
Or where Beauty dwells with Scorn,
But where Wealth is linked with Goodness,
And the best are noblest born.
For the humblest are the wisest,
And the meek are glory-crowned;
And the sweetest-scented flow'rets
Grow the nearest to the ground.
Where my bosom friend shall be;
Not where haughty riches gather
Needy knaves to bend the knee;
Not where Pride looks down on Merit,
Or where Beauty dwells with Scorn,
But where Wealth is linked with Goodness,
And the best are noblest born.
For the humblest are the wisest,
And the meek are glory-crowned;
And the sweetest-scented flow'rets
Grow the nearest to the ground.
268
THERE'S A LAND, A DEAR LAND.
There's a land, a dear land, where the rights of the free,
Though firm as the Earth are as wide as the Sea;
Where the primroses bloom, and the nightingales sing,
And the honest poor man is as good as a king.
Showery! Flowery!
Tearful! Cheerful!
England, wave-guarded, and green to the shore!
West land! Best land!
Thy land! My land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
Though firm as the Earth are as wide as the Sea;
Where the primroses bloom, and the nightingales sing,
And the honest poor man is as good as a king.
Showery! Flowery!
Tearful! Cheerful!
England, wave-guarded, and green to the shore!
West land! Best land!
Thy land! My land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
269
There's a land, a dear land, where our vigour of soul
Is fed by the tempests that blow from the Pole;
Where a slave cannot breathe or invader presume,
To ask for more Earth than will cover his tomb.
Sea land! Free land!
Fairest! Rarest!
Home of brave men and the girls they adore!
Fearless! Peerless!
Thy land! My land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
Is fed by the tempests that blow from the Pole;
Where a slave cannot breathe or invader presume,
To ask for more Earth than will cover his tomb.
Sea land! Free land!
Fairest! Rarest!
Home of brave men and the girls they adore!
Fearless! Peerless!
Thy land! My land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
270
COME IF YOU DARE!
A SONG FOR THE RIFLE VOLUNTEERS.
Come if you dare, loud vaunting foeman!
Come if you dare to our isles of the sea.
Come if you dare, soldier or yeoman!
We'll give you a welcome befitting the free.
Our rifles are ready, our aim shall be steady,
We'll show you the teeth of the wolf in its lair,
And give the full strength of you
Graves the full length of you;
Yes! every man of you, Come if you dare!
Come if you dare to our isles of the sea.
Come if you dare, soldier or yeoman!
We'll give you a welcome befitting the free.
Our rifles are ready, our aim shall be steady,
We'll show you the teeth of the wolf in its lair,
And give the full strength of you
Graves the full length of you;
Yes! every man of you, Come if you dare!
Come if you dare, reivers and raiders!
Come if you dare to our beautiful shore;
Come if you dare, saucy invaders!
Many or few you'll return nevermore.
One purpose shall fire us, one thought shall inspire us,
Each bullet we drive shall be true to a hair;
We'll give the full strength of you
Graves the full length of you,
Yes! every man of you, Come if you dare!
Come if you dare to our beautiful shore;
Come if you dare, saucy invaders!
Many or few you'll return nevermore.
271
Each bullet we drive shall be true to a hair;
We'll give the full strength of you
Graves the full length of you,
Yes! every man of you, Come if you dare!
THE END.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |