 | Craigcrook Castle |  |
5
CRAIGCROOK CASTLE.
I.
Life is at most a Meeting and a Parting;
A glimpse into the world of Might-have-been.
And standing rapt on some new-trodden height,
We long to build a tabernacle there.
A glimpse into the world of Might-have-been.
And standing rapt on some new-trodden height,
We long to build a tabernacle there.
A sudden glorious glimpse, a nestling face,
Will bid the kingly moment live for ever.
Ah, could we paint their picture in the mind,
And breathe the blesséd breath of Beauty back!
Will bid the kingly moment live for ever.
Ah, could we paint their picture in the mind,
And breathe the blesséd breath of Beauty back!
We think how on some heavenly day the Sun
Gathered his glory for a grand repose;
And with her folding stillness Eve came down,
So meek and shadowy, bringing healing dews,
While Angels walkt our garden of the soul.
How on a summer morn the dewy lanes
In sunny England kist us with the breath
Of their green mouths, and took us in cool arms.
Or, in a wondrous Moonlight long ago,
The face of early Love upturned to us
Two human stars that swam in bridal dew;
With brow of virgin white, and cheek's warm touch;
The full heart's sweetness parting young red lips;
And, caught by sweet surprise o' the tender time,
Our Deity half forgot her veiling cloud,
And pure soul all in silent beauty smiled.
Gathered his glory for a grand repose;
And with her folding stillness Eve came down,
So meek and shadowy, bringing healing dews,
While Angels walkt our garden of the soul.
6
In sunny England kist us with the breath
Of their green mouths, and took us in cool arms.
Or, in a wondrous Moonlight long ago,
The face of early Love upturned to us
Two human stars that swam in bridal dew;
With brow of virgin white, and cheek's warm touch;
The full heart's sweetness parting young red lips;
And, caught by sweet surprise o' the tender time,
Our Deity half forgot her veiling cloud,
And pure soul all in silent beauty smiled.
So Memory maketh rich the house of life,
Where our great moments come as gorgeous guests;
At Fancy's touch the walls with pictures bloom,
And rosy recollections rise around.
Where our great moments come as gorgeous guests;
At Fancy's touch the walls with pictures bloom,
And rosy recollections rise around.
Even so I linger o'er my perfect day,
Whose fruitful round of ripe and crowded life
In its sole glory summed a golden age;
Whose stirred precipitate sweetens all my days;
Whose whispering memory cometh like an air
Of heaven wafting warm immortal breath;
Then leaves me softly as the Dove of Day,
That shakes down dews of freshness as it goes.
Whose fruitful round of ripe and crowded life
In its sole glory summed a golden age;
Whose stirred precipitate sweetens all my days;
Whose whispering memory cometh like an air
Of heaven wafting warm immortal breath;
Then leaves me softly as the Dove of Day,
That shakes down dews of freshness as it goes.
7
II.
In that sweet season when the Year is green,
And hearts grow merry as spring-groves full of birds,
While life for pleasure ripples as it runs;
And young Earth putteth forth the lovely things
She hath been dreaming through long winter nights;
Taking the May-tide in a golden swim,
Her blithe heart singing for the flooding cheer;
And field and forest clothed in tender leaf,
Shower after shower, out-smile a livelier green;
With dainty colour the kindling country dawns;
Death lieth low; his hidden footprints bloom;
Upon his grave Life dances all in flowers:
And lying shell-like on our shore o' the world,
Thinking to music played by hidden hands,
We are caught up to listening ear of Heaven,
That leaneth down maternal meek to hear
Our inner murmurs of the eternal sea:
Then Craigcrook puts its budding glory on.
An emerald Eden nestling in the North:
To which the mariner worn on life's salt wave,
Might point his prow and find a conqueror's home;
And storm-tost Love up-fold his wearied wings,
Warm on the bosom of mellifluous Rest.
And hearts grow merry as spring-groves full of birds,
While life for pleasure ripples as it runs;
And young Earth putteth forth the lovely things
She hath been dreaming through long winter nights;
Taking the May-tide in a golden swim,
Her blithe heart singing for the flooding cheer;
And field and forest clothed in tender leaf,
Shower after shower, out-smile a livelier green;
With dainty colour the kindling country dawns;
Death lieth low; his hidden footprints bloom;
Upon his grave Life dances all in flowers:
And lying shell-like on our shore o' the world,
Thinking to music played by hidden hands,
We are caught up to listening ear of Heaven,
That leaneth down maternal meek to hear
Our inner murmurs of the eternal sea:
Then Craigcrook puts its budding glory on.
An emerald Eden nestling in the North:
To which the mariner worn on life's salt wave,
Might point his prow and find a conqueror's home;
8
Warm on the bosom of mellifluous Rest.
A happy island in a sea of green,
Smiling it lies beneath the azure heaven,
Well pleased, and conscious that each wave and wind
Is tempered kindly or with blessing rich:
And all the quaint cloud-messengers that come
Voyaging the blue glory's summer sea
In barks of beauty, built o' the powdery pearl,
Soft, shining, sumptuous, blown by languid breath,
Touch tenderly, or drop with ripeness down.
Spring builds her leafy nest for birds and flowers,
And folds it round luxuriant as the Vine
Whose grapes are ripe with wine of merry cheer:
The Summer burns her richest incense there,
Swung from the censers of her thousand flowers:
Brown Autumn comes o'er seas of glorious gold:
And there old Winter keeps some greenth of heart,
When on his head the snows of age are white.
Smiling it lies beneath the azure heaven,
Well pleased, and conscious that each wave and wind
Is tempered kindly or with blessing rich:
And all the quaint cloud-messengers that come
Voyaging the blue glory's summer sea
In barks of beauty, built o' the powdery pearl,
Soft, shining, sumptuous, blown by languid breath,
Touch tenderly, or drop with ripeness down.
Spring builds her leafy nest for birds and flowers,
And folds it round luxuriant as the Vine
Whose grapes are ripe with wine of merry cheer:
The Summer burns her richest incense there,
Swung from the censers of her thousand flowers:
Brown Autumn comes o'er seas of glorious gold:
And there old Winter keeps some greenth of heart,
When on his head the snows of age are white.
Mid glimpsing greenery at the hill-foot stands
The castle with its tiny town of towers:
A smiling Martyr to the climbing strength
Of Ivy that will crown the old bald head,
And Roses that will mask him merry and young,
Like an old Man with Children round his knees.
With cups of colour reeling Roses rise
On walls and bushes, red and yellow and white;
A dance and dazzle of Roses range all round.
The castle with its tiny town of towers:
A smiling Martyr to the climbing strength
Of Ivy that will crown the old bald head,
And Roses that will mask him merry and young,
Like an old Man with Children round his knees.
With cups of colour reeling Roses rise
9
A dance and dazzle of Roses range all round.
The path runs down and peeps out in the lane
That loiters on by fields of wheat and bean,
Till the white-gleaming road winds city-ward.
Afar, in floods of sunshine blinding white,
The City lieth in its quiet pride,
With castled crown, looking on Towns and Shires,
And Hills from which cloud-highlands climb the heavens:
A happy thing in glory smiles the Firth;
Its flowing azure winding like an arm
Around the warm waist of the yielding land.
That loiters on by fields of wheat and bean,
Till the white-gleaming road winds city-ward.
Afar, in floods of sunshine blinding white,
The City lieth in its quiet pride,
With castled crown, looking on Towns and Shires,
And Hills from which cloud-highlands climb the heavens:
A happy thing in glory smiles the Firth;
Its flowing azure winding like an arm
Around the warm waist of the yielding land.
III.
I rose betimes upon my day of days;
Through faery forests of the lady fern,
Went up the wooded height to see the Dawn,
That new, eternal Picture fresh from God,
Quicken and colour into perfect life.
Quietly, quietly slept the world beside
The sepulchre of the dark, till Light awoke.
The haunting spirit of each lonely place
Seemed passing through the still and solemn wood.
What breath of life the breeze of morning blew!
What dewy smell and after-sense of showers
Came kissing like rich airs from secret shores
To those who sail into the eternal dawn!
Bird after bird the sweet sharp stillness stirred,
As Earth were warbling some new tune of joy
With which her heart gusht, and its radiance fired
Her face, as she arrayed to meet the morn.
The meek and melting amethyst of dawn
Blusht o'er the blue hills in the ring o' the world;
Up purple twilights came the golden sea
Of sunlight breaking in a silent surge;
And Morning like the birth of Beauty rose,
With sunny music up the sparkling heaven,
While, at a rosy touch, the clouds that lay
In sullen purples round the hills of Fife,
Adown her pathway spread their cloaks of gold:
The silvery-green-and-violet sheen o' the sea
Changed into shifting opal tinct with gold:
And like an Alchymist with furnace-face,
The sun smiled on his perfect work, pure gold.
Through faery forests of the lady fern,
Went up the wooded height to see the Dawn,
That new, eternal Picture fresh from God,
Quicken and colour into perfect life.
Quietly, quietly slept the world beside
The sepulchre of the dark, till Light awoke.
The haunting spirit of each lonely place
Seemed passing through the still and solemn wood.
10
What dewy smell and after-sense of showers
Came kissing like rich airs from secret shores
To those who sail into the eternal dawn!
Bird after bird the sweet sharp stillness stirred,
As Earth were warbling some new tune of joy
With which her heart gusht, and its radiance fired
Her face, as she arrayed to meet the morn.
The meek and melting amethyst of dawn
Blusht o'er the blue hills in the ring o' the world;
Up purple twilights came the golden sea
Of sunlight breaking in a silent surge;
And Morning like the birth of Beauty rose,
With sunny music up the sparkling heaven,
While, at a rosy touch, the clouds that lay
In sullen purples round the hills of Fife,
Adown her pathway spread their cloaks of gold:
The silvery-green-and-violet sheen o' the sea
Changed into shifting opal tinct with gold:
And like an Alchymist with furnace-face,
The sun smiled on his perfect work, pure gold.
The breath of Dawn brought God's good-morning kiss
To bud and leaf and flower, and human hearts
That like pond-lilies open heaven-ward eyes.
Sweet lilies of the valley, tremulous fair,
Peep through their curtains claspt with diamond dew
By faery jewellers working while they slept:
The arch Laburnum droops her budding gold
From emerald fingers, with such taking grace:
The Fuschia fires her fairy chandelry,
And flowering Currant crimsons the green gloom:
The Pansies, pretty little puritans,
Come peering up with merry elvish eyes:
At Summer's call the Lily is alight:
Wall-flowers in fragrance burn themselves away
With the sweet Season on her precious pyre;
Pure passionate aromas of the Rose,
And purple perfume of the Hyacinth,
Come like a colour thro' the golden day.
A summer soul is in the Limes; they stand
Low murmuring honied things that wing forth Bees;
Their busy whisperings done, the Plane-trees hush!
But lo, a warm wind winnowing odour-rain
Goes breathing by, and there they curtsey meek,
Or toss their locks in frolic wantonness,
While a great gust of joy runs shivering thro' them;
All the leaves thrill and sparkle wild as wings.
Voluptuously ripening in the sun,
The Meadows swell their bosom plump with life,
To pasture sauntering sheep, and ruminant kine;
And Kingcups spread their tiny laps to take
The lavish largess showered down from heaven;
And, garnering the warm gold, nod and laugh.
The Birds low-crooning o'er their sweet Spring-tunes
Still touch them with a riper luxury:
That Blackbird with the wine of joy is mellow,
And in his song keeps laughing, he's so jolly,
To think how summer pulps the fruit for him.
His Apple-tree hath felt the ruddying breath
Of May upon her yielding leafy lips,
And broke in kisses trembling for delight;
Look how her red heart blushes warm in white!
Deep after deep the generous heart of Spring,
So golden-full of glad days, flusht in bloom,
Ripe with all sweetness.
To bud and leaf and flower, and human hearts
That like pond-lilies open heaven-ward eyes.
Sweet lilies of the valley, tremulous fair,
Peep through their curtains claspt with diamond dew
By faery jewellers working while they slept:
11
From emerald fingers, with such taking grace:
The Fuschia fires her fairy chandelry,
And flowering Currant crimsons the green gloom:
The Pansies, pretty little puritans,
Come peering up with merry elvish eyes:
At Summer's call the Lily is alight:
Wall-flowers in fragrance burn themselves away
With the sweet Season on her precious pyre;
Pure passionate aromas of the Rose,
And purple perfume of the Hyacinth,
Come like a colour thro' the golden day.
A summer soul is in the Limes; they stand
Low murmuring honied things that wing forth Bees;
Their busy whisperings done, the Plane-trees hush!
But lo, a warm wind winnowing odour-rain
Goes breathing by, and there they curtsey meek,
Or toss their locks in frolic wantonness,
While a great gust of joy runs shivering thro' them;
All the leaves thrill and sparkle wild as wings.
Voluptuously ripening in the sun,
The Meadows swell their bosom plump with life,
To pasture sauntering sheep, and ruminant kine;
And Kingcups spread their tiny laps to take
The lavish largess showered down from heaven;
And, garnering the warm gold, nod and laugh.
The Birds low-crooning o'er their sweet Spring-tunes
Still touch them with a riper luxury:
12
And in his song keeps laughing, he's so jolly,
To think how summer pulps the fruit for him.
His Apple-tree hath felt the ruddying breath
Of May upon her yielding leafy lips,
And broke in kisses trembling for delight;
Look how her red heart blushes warm in white!
Deep after deep the generous heart of Spring,
So golden-full of glad days, flusht in bloom,
Ripe with all sweetness.
Crown us, lusty leaves!
Shake down your gathered coolness, O green leaves!
Shake down your gathered coolness, O green leaves!
IV.
At Craigcrook Castle all a Summer day
We had rich talk and sweet society,
To floating filled with bright Olympian life.
Under the tender trees we sat, and watcht
All nature couchéd in a calm day-dream;
The rich World in her blooming airy nest,
Warm-burnishing her colours like a Bird
O' the Sun, to soar on silent wings of light;
And Heaven brooding down with golden eye,
Where Sunlight, seeking hidden Shadow, toucht
The green leaves all a-tremble with gold light,
And rippled grass caressed us with its smiles.
While One whose looks were mild as they had drawn
A Christ-like sweetness from the face of Babes,—
His brow the triumph-arch of royal soul—
A Prodigal of Freedom whose great heart,
Big as the world it floods with wealth to-day,
Must eat to-morrow of the Stranger's husks—
Prometheus on his rock of exile—told
The vision passing solemn thro' his soul.
We had rich talk and sweet society,
To floating filled with bright Olympian life.
Under the tender trees we sat, and watcht
All nature couchéd in a calm day-dream;
The rich World in her blooming airy nest,
Warm-burnishing her colours like a Bird
O' the Sun, to soar on silent wings of light;
And Heaven brooding down with golden eye,
13
The green leaves all a-tremble with gold light,
And rippled grass caressed us with its smiles.
While One whose looks were mild as they had drawn
A Christ-like sweetness from the face of Babes,—
His brow the triumph-arch of royal soul—
A Prodigal of Freedom whose great heart,
Big as the world it floods with wealth to-day,
Must eat to-morrow of the Stranger's husks—
Prometheus on his rock of exile—told
The vision passing solemn thro' his soul.
Ah! how they drank the breath of Battle, won
Its swarthy bloom, those spirits fiery-fine!
O, gallant hearts, how stalwartly they stood;
How fought the faithful, how the deathless died!
And there in saviour sepulchres they sleep,
Crowned with the diadem o' the kingly Dead;
Green graves on earth,—high memories in heaven.
And how the night came down with treachery dark,
But reddened with the light of burning homes,
That lit the Hangman while he knit his noose:
Then silence, at the hush of Death, above;
Nought but a ghastly Golgotha below.
Its swarthy bloom, those spirits fiery-fine!
O, gallant hearts, how stalwartly they stood;
How fought the faithful, how the deathless died!
And there in saviour sepulchres they sleep,
Crowned with the diadem o' the kingly Dead;
Green graves on earth,—high memories in heaven.
And how the night came down with treachery dark,
But reddened with the light of burning homes,
That lit the Hangman while he knit his noose:
Then silence, at the hush of Death, above;
Nought but a ghastly Golgotha below.
And O, but hearts flew out, like Freedom's bird,
To flap their wings upon the flag of war.
And fierce looks flasht, and prayers went up to God,
In fiery chariots of our fervent hearts.
And eyes were frenzed with noble tears to see
That Exile by the hounds of torture trackt;
Who, while they tore his stricken life, still drank
His cup of trembling, smiling very calm.
To flap their wings upon the flag of war.
And fierce looks flasht, and prayers went up to God,
14
And eyes were frenzed with noble tears to see
That Exile by the hounds of torture trackt;
Who, while they tore his stricken life, still drank
His cup of trembling, smiling very calm.
Fight on, thou Hero! Heaven's glooming look
Frowns only on the wrong. This dark shall break
In resurrection hour. The chariot wheels
Of coming Vengeance spin too swift for sight.
The Nemesis of Nations only waits,
Until the glass of Destiny runs out,
To wake the Murderers with her whip of fire,
Caught by the hair in sudden hands of Hell!
While in a ruddy rain old Earth laughs up.
O, we shall see a sight ere England's sun
Goes down behind her hills of gathered gold!
The time of times, the year of years is nigh!
When Spring's young hopes lie dead, and her sweet buds
Are low in the dust, our Autumn fruitage comes.
Princes shall meet thee in thy Country's gate;
Thy Banner yet shall crown her topmost height,
And all the world shall see it waving there.
Frowns only on the wrong. This dark shall break
In resurrection hour. The chariot wheels
Of coming Vengeance spin too swift for sight.
The Nemesis of Nations only waits,
Until the glass of Destiny runs out,
To wake the Murderers with her whip of fire,
Caught by the hair in sudden hands of Hell!
While in a ruddy rain old Earth laughs up.
O, we shall see a sight ere England's sun
Goes down behind her hills of gathered gold!
The time of times, the year of years is nigh!
When Spring's young hopes lie dead, and her sweet buds
Are low in the dust, our Autumn fruitage comes.
Princes shall meet thee in thy Country's gate;
Thy Banner yet shall crown her topmost height,
And all the world shall see it waving there.
15
V.
In the green quiet of a neighbouring knollThere sat and sang a beauteous company;
Surging a soul-ache of deliciousness.
Aurelia with the royal eyes, and breast
Bounding with hurrying heart, wave-wanton, for
A ripe repose on some Elysian shore:
A glorious passion-flower of Womanhood
Come, golden-natured, to its summer throne:
Her eyes, the stars of burning dreams, so rapt
The spirit moth-like for their fire, you might
Have gone to death by sword-light for their smile,
And sullen beauty of her mouth's ripe bloom.
And Mabel, saintly sweet and fairily fine
As maiden rising from enchanted mere;
Pale as a lily crowned with moonlight calm:
A queenly creature with her quiet grace,
And dazzling white hand veined cerulean:
Upon her warm-waved hair the rippled light
Played soft, and toucht it into cloudy gold;
Her eyes of violet-grey were coloured rich
With gloom of tender thought, and mirrored large
Within them, starry futures swam and shone:
16
And make the waking heart to sing in sleep!
Ah! what a lamp to light some heaven of love;
The perfect pearl of her star-purity!
And stately Charmian with her grander calm,
Like a Greek Goddess Statue that had raised
The veil of being in some diviner dawn,
And yearning Love did woo her into Woman,
His burning kiss budding her dainty rose;
With merry melting mouth and subtle eyes,
And warm heart smiling her white silence through,
She rose up in her crown the Queen of Smiles
With all the old majesty, unweeting of
The old worship conscious hearts in silence pay;
Our English vesture cannot mask her mould.
Above her brow the star of Genius shed
A tender radiance in her night of hair.
And She, with dancing sparkle in her eyes,
Like sun-kist waters twinkling sapphirine,
Our Seeress with whose soul the Spirits walk:
Who told strange mysteries in Waking Sleep,
And held your hand and read your Book of life;
Whose presence weirdly took the throbbing heart
Bird-like, as it were caught in spirit-hands;
Whose visioned face would shine so glorified,
You lookt with heavenward instinct up to see
Whence came such beauty as brake thro' Raphael's dream.
17
The heart-strings all a-tremble for their harp:
In which melodious Passion breaks its heart
For evermore, and finds no spousal words.
And crossing in the music's airy storm,
Spirit with spirit toucht in tingling kiss;
Till every nerve stretcht like a telescope
For Life to draw the moving heaven down.
VI.
Some played at bowls upon the velvet sward,
And drank old ale with ruby flame in it,
Where sunny laurels twinkled silver lights;
While others traced the footprints of old Time,
Long fossilized: some by the Sea—that glowed
In living azure and inviolate calm—
Peered in the portal of its wonder-world.
We showered playful palms down in the path,
And deckt with flowers the marriage-robe of One
Who brought his beauteous Bride in triumph home:
A jolly Briton, princely to the poor.
His rich heart-warming ruddiness of look
Might make an east wind reel off mellow and mild:
So sunnily his inner ripeness smiled:
And stalwart stood the sheltering wall of his life,
For climbing flower and fruit to bud and bear.
Her fragrant weight of warm and rosy life,
That dwined with tender want of folding arms,
Half-sad with sweetness like a dew-droopt flower,
Stirs in his smile and rises ruddy and calm,
With breath that maketh dim his dallying eyes:
A young Aurora of warm womanhood
Glowing imperial as the sun-toucht Rose!
Her eyes wide-wakened by Love's quickening kiss,—
Sweet-drunken with the wine of tears,—foreshow
How Love hath hived his honey in her heart.
And there they walk their rosy marriage time,
With gracious words that brighten listening brows
Like crowns of splendour, as the first pair walkt
Their morning of the world in paradise.
And drank old ale with ruby flame in it,
Where sunny laurels twinkled silver lights;
While others traced the footprints of old Time,
Long fossilized: some by the Sea—that glowed
In living azure and inviolate calm—
Peered in the portal of its wonder-world.
We showered playful palms down in the path,
And deckt with flowers the marriage-robe of One
Who brought his beauteous Bride in triumph home:
A jolly Briton, princely to the poor.
His rich heart-warming ruddiness of look
Might make an east wind reel off mellow and mild:
So sunnily his inner ripeness smiled:
And stalwart stood the sheltering wall of his life,
For climbing flower and fruit to bud and bear.
18
That dwined with tender want of folding arms,
Half-sad with sweetness like a dew-droopt flower,
Stirs in his smile and rises ruddy and calm,
With breath that maketh dim his dallying eyes:
A young Aurora of warm womanhood
Glowing imperial as the sun-toucht Rose!
Her eyes wide-wakened by Love's quickening kiss,—
Sweet-drunken with the wine of tears,—foreshow
How Love hath hived his honey in her heart.
And there they walk their rosy marriage time,
With gracious words that brighten listening brows
Like crowns of splendour, as the first pair walkt
Their morning of the world in paradise.
Our Poet, Rubens, laught at Wedded Love,
And drew a piteous picture of our friend
In harness, drawing the matrimonial car,
Heavily laden, along the ruts of life.
But in his voice there hissed a thirsty sound,
As when the dry leaves rustle for the rain.
With longing eyes he mockt the glowing grapes,
And six weeks after held out eager hands,
To take the bonds that bind for evermore:
And quietly joined the herd of pastured Slaves,
Where nuptial Love thro' sweet tears on him smiled.
And drew a piteous picture of our friend
In harness, drawing the matrimonial car,
Heavily laden, along the ruts of life.
But in his voice there hissed a thirsty sound,
As when the dry leaves rustle for the rain.
With longing eyes he mockt the glowing grapes,
And six weeks after held out eager hands,
To take the bonds that bind for evermore:
And quietly joined the herd of pastured Slaves,
Where nuptial Love thro' sweet tears on him smiled.
Up spoke our Host. A sunny life was his
Among his children, breathing blooms of health,
He, like a rennet Apple wrinkle-ripe,
Hived full of sweetness, fragrant to the taste,
Tho' Sorrow's tooth should strike the brave heart's core.
He had the happy soul which, like the Bee,
Rocks with delight upon a thistle-top,
Or finds voluptuous honey on wild moors.
And cheerily he chirpt of Wedded Love,
And Home our refuge from the mad-world-strife,
Where we may keep the spirit-sandals clean,
We soil so on our treadmill of a world;
And open heaven in the shut up heart:
Where Love may help us hand-in-hand across
The dark stream of Eternity, as Life
On starry stepping-stones goes up to God.
Just now the Flower of England made a crown
To garland whoredom's apotheosis;
Revelling, with unhallowed light of eyes,
Upon the Wanton's glance, and wicked grace,
All honeyed with warm witchery of Sin:
Circe enchanted with lewd sorceries
That slide into the whitest sanctuaries;
Befoul the palace-chambers precious-lined,
And canker all the virgin flower of life
I' the delicate sweetness of its budding time!
Ah! how it made him turn to his dear nest,
And proudly yearn o'er his sweet marriage guest,
Who made their little world so bright with bliss,
It drew God's Angels blessing-laden down.
And as he spoke, the dead flowers in our hearts
All pressed and precious, softly stirred with life;
Bloomed on our brows, and shed a fragrance round.
19
He, like a rennet Apple wrinkle-ripe,
Hived full of sweetness, fragrant to the taste,
Tho' Sorrow's tooth should strike the brave heart's core.
He had the happy soul which, like the Bee,
Rocks with delight upon a thistle-top,
Or finds voluptuous honey on wild moors.
And cheerily he chirpt of Wedded Love,
And Home our refuge from the mad-world-strife,
Where we may keep the spirit-sandals clean,
We soil so on our treadmill of a world;
And open heaven in the shut up heart:
Where Love may help us hand-in-hand across
The dark stream of Eternity, as Life
On starry stepping-stones goes up to God.
Just now the Flower of England made a crown
To garland whoredom's apotheosis;
Revelling, with unhallowed light of eyes,
Upon the Wanton's glance, and wicked grace,
All honeyed with warm witchery of Sin:
Circe enchanted with lewd sorceries
That slide into the whitest sanctuaries;
Befoul the palace-chambers precious-lined,
And canker all the virgin flower of life
I' the delicate sweetness of its budding time!
Ah! how it made him turn to his dear nest,
And proudly yearn o'er his sweet marriage guest,
Who made their little world so bright with bliss,
20
And as he spoke, the dead flowers in our hearts
All pressed and precious, softly stirred with life;
Bloomed on our brows, and shed a fragrance round.
In silence sat our Crimean Hero, he
Who told us how they fought at Inkermann:
His heart swam up in tears at thoughts of Home.
The roar and rack of Battle over and gone;
No more surprises in the bloody trench,
Where midnight swarmed with visions horrible,
And earth was like a fiery coast of hell!
All that long aching wintriness of soul,
Warm-melted in the arms of Wedded Love,
That drew him from the bloody battle-press,
And claspt him safe in their serene of heaven,
Where Past and Future crown him as they kiss.
And with dumb eloquence his poor armstump moved,
As it were dreaming of a dear embrace.
Who told us how they fought at Inkermann:
His heart swam up in tears at thoughts of Home.
The roar and rack of Battle over and gone;
No more surprises in the bloody trench,
Where midnight swarmed with visions horrible,
And earth was like a fiery coast of hell!
All that long aching wintriness of soul,
Warm-melted in the arms of Wedded Love,
That drew him from the bloody battle-press,
And claspt him safe in their serene of heaven,
Where Past and Future crown him as they kiss.
And with dumb eloquence his poor armstump moved,
As it were dreaming of a dear embrace.
VII.
A silvered Sage like some old pictured Saint,
Smilingly took the crucial hand of Doubt,
And thrust stern fingers in his spirit-wounds;
And told us how he hunted shadows once,
And felt his spiritual pulse ten times a day,
With thoughts of Self fatal as Herod's worms.
And how the Child rose up and led the Man
Back very lowly to their Mother's knee:
Worshipping God as in the dear old days.
Smilingly took the crucial hand of Doubt,
And thrust stern fingers in his spirit-wounds;
And told us how he hunted shadows once,
21
With thoughts of Self fatal as Herod's worms.
And how the Child rose up and led the Man
Back very lowly to their Mother's knee:
Worshipping God as in the dear old days.
“‘They wrought in faith,’ and not ‘They wrought in doubt,’
Is the proud epitaph inscribed above
Our glorious Dead who in their grandeur lie,
Crowned with the garland of eternity.
Because they did believe, and conquered Doubt,
They lived great lives and did their deathless deeds,
Who in the old time walkt their perilous way,
With the grey hairs of kingly sorrow crowned:
Who laid their heads upon the bloody block
For their last pillow: who amid the flames
Bore witness still, and with their quivering hands
Sowed every wind with sparks of fiery thought.
Because they did believe, we kneel to read
Where men and angels mingle tears of joy.
Because he did believe, Columbus sailed
For that new world his inner eyes had seen.
He found: so Faith its new worlds yet shall find,
While Doubt shakes its wise head and stays behind.
Newton believed for many a year before
The Hand in heaven shook the Apple down.
Because we have believed, our knowledge comes:
Belief, not Doubt, will touch the secret spring.
Belief is that soul-attitude which sees
How the pure distance of some infinite sea
Relieves the dark ground of our inland life,
And feels the fresh spray make its roses bloom.
But Doubt turns from the light, and only sees
The Shadow that it casts, and follows it;
For Doubt is ever its own Deity:
The Shadow still dilates on darkened eyes,
And lengthens as the awful night comes down.
Is the proud epitaph inscribed above
Our glorious Dead who in their grandeur lie,
Crowned with the garland of eternity.
Because they did believe, and conquered Doubt,
They lived great lives and did their deathless deeds,
Who in the old time walkt their perilous way,
With the grey hairs of kingly sorrow crowned:
Who laid their heads upon the bloody block
For their last pillow: who amid the flames
Bore witness still, and with their quivering hands
Sowed every wind with sparks of fiery thought.
Because they did believe, we kneel to read
Where men and angels mingle tears of joy.
Because he did believe, Columbus sailed
For that new world his inner eyes had seen.
He found: so Faith its new worlds yet shall find,
While Doubt shakes its wise head and stays behind.
Newton believed for many a year before
The Hand in heaven shook the Apple down.
Because we have believed, our knowledge comes:
Belief, not Doubt, will touch the secret spring.
22
How the pure distance of some infinite sea
Relieves the dark ground of our inland life,
And feels the fresh spray make its roses bloom.
But Doubt turns from the light, and only sees
The Shadow that it casts, and follows it;
For Doubt is ever its own Deity:
The Shadow still dilates on darkened eyes,
And lengthens as the awful night comes down.
“Life is a maze, but God i' the centre sits.
I wailed and wandered in the winding ways;
Against the thorns with bleeding bosom beat,
And vainly shouted to the passing stars,—
Those silent spirit-vanishing-points of space,—
That voyaged Ship-like on nor saw my wreck.
I shriekt out with the scorners, ‘There's no God!’
Sat in the womb o' the world like Babe unborn,
And blindly said, ‘There is no life to come.’
Then my Beloved came, and drew me in
A little nearer to the heart of light.
A lightning-glimpse from out the cloud of Death
Stern revelation rifted, and I fell
Prone on my face, heart-broken in the dust.
Her vase of love was broken at my feet,
And all the precious perfume filled my life.
Breathed thro' the dark a still voice low and sweet:
“Let Faith but climb the tree of prayer, and watch
And wait, the Lord will surely pass that way.”
And down a dream of peace a spirit hand
Slid into mine, and at its dewy touch
Existence melted in the dawning heaven,
And human flowering of divine delight.
It led me to my kneeling-place among
The pilgrims of the world who sought in vain,
And closed their eyes in tears, to suddenly find
God sitting in His temple of the soul.”
I wailed and wandered in the winding ways;
Against the thorns with bleeding bosom beat,
And vainly shouted to the passing stars,—
Those silent spirit-vanishing-points of space,—
That voyaged Ship-like on nor saw my wreck.
I shriekt out with the scorners, ‘There's no God!’
Sat in the womb o' the world like Babe unborn,
And blindly said, ‘There is no life to come.’
Then my Beloved came, and drew me in
A little nearer to the heart of light.
A lightning-glimpse from out the cloud of Death
Stern revelation rifted, and I fell
Prone on my face, heart-broken in the dust.
Her vase of love was broken at my feet,
And all the precious perfume filled my life.
Breathed thro' the dark a still voice low and sweet:
“Let Faith but climb the tree of prayer, and watch
23
And down a dream of peace a spirit hand
Slid into mine, and at its dewy touch
Existence melted in the dawning heaven,
And human flowering of divine delight.
It led me to my kneeling-place among
The pilgrims of the world who sought in vain,
And closed their eyes in tears, to suddenly find
God sitting in His temple of the soul.”
A soul of sweetness from each wrinkle smiled!
There was strange glory in the old Man's eyes,
Which, with Life's setting splendour, shone a-glow,
Like windows lighted in a sinking sun
That paints fair morrow. Pleasant was the sight.
For he had reacht the shining Sunset Isles
That fade into the eternal Heavens, and Lo!
The Hesper of a happy memory smiles.
There was strange glory in the old Man's eyes,
Which, with Life's setting splendour, shone a-glow,
Like windows lighted in a sinking sun
That paints fair morrow. Pleasant was the sight.
For he had reacht the shining Sunset Isles
That fade into the eternal Heavens, and Lo!
The Hesper of a happy memory smiles.
VIII.
Now Sunset burns. A sea of gold on fire
Serenely surges around purple isles:
O'er billows and flame-furrows Day goes down.
Far-watching clouds with ruby glimmer bloom;
A scattered crowd, that on its face still wears
The splendid light and life of some brave show.
Dews swarm upon the flowers like silent bees,
And quiet fire-flies glittering in the grass.
Husht woods grow solemn dark; the blue peaks fade;
Weird mists rise white, and gracious Twilight comes.
Sweet is the mystery of her loveliness;
And all things feel her dim divinity.
Serenely surges around purple isles:
O'er billows and flame-furrows Day goes down.
Far-watching clouds with ruby glimmer bloom;
A scattered crowd, that on its face still wears
The splendid light and life of some brave show.
24
And quiet fire-flies glittering in the grass.
Husht woods grow solemn dark; the blue peaks fade;
Weird mists rise white, and gracious Twilight comes.
Sweet is the mystery of her loveliness;
And all things feel her dim divinity.
“Now for a rouse within the house, and there
Shake off the purple sadness of the night,”
Cried one: “Come let us a Symposium hold,
And each one to the banquet bring their best
In song or story; all shall play a part.”
So, rapturously we hailéd lord o' the feast,
Our great Messiah in Midwifery, He
Who wrestled with the fiend of corporal pain,
And stands above the writhing Agony,
Like Michael with the Dragon 'neath his heel:
Who is in soul—Love riding on a Lion;
In body—a Bacchus crowned with head of Jove:
The keen life looks out in his lighted face
So fulgent that the gazer's brightens too:
He grandly towers above our fume and fret,
Like the old Hills whose feet are in the surge,
And on their lifted brows the eternal calm:
For he is one of those prophetic spirits
That are the World's night-dreams of things to come.
And thus he broacht our garrulous Hippocrene;
And round and round the chalice went till morn.
Shake off the purple sadness of the night,”
Cried one: “Come let us a Symposium hold,
And each one to the banquet bring their best
In song or story; all shall play a part.”
So, rapturously we hailéd lord o' the feast,
Our great Messiah in Midwifery, He
Who wrestled with the fiend of corporal pain,
And stands above the writhing Agony,
Like Michael with the Dragon 'neath his heel:
Who is in soul—Love riding on a Lion;
In body—a Bacchus crowned with head of Jove:
The keen life looks out in his lighted face
So fulgent that the gazer's brightens too:
He grandly towers above our fume and fret,
Like the old Hills whose feet are in the surge,
And on their lifted brows the eternal calm:
For he is one of those prophetic spirits
That are the World's night-dreams of things to come.
And thus he broacht our garrulous Hippocrene;
And round and round the chalice went till morn.
| Craigcrook Castle | |