The poetical works of Henry Alford Fifth edition, containing many pieces now first collected |
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| POEMS NOW FIRST COLLECTED. |
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 | The poetical works of Henry Alford |  |
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POEMS NOW FIRST COLLECTED.
FRAGMENTS OF A LONG-PONDERED POEM. (1852.)
I.
That wrath divine I sing, whose bitter curse
Weighed heavy on the race chosen of God;
What time the holy city, favoured once
With His high presence, was with armies girt,
And all her gladness into mourning turned.
Weighed heavy on the race chosen of God;
What time the holy city, favoured once
With His high presence, was with armies girt,
And all her gladness into mourning turned.
Say, thou who once above Jerusalem
Didst sheathe thy glittering sword, Angel of Death!
When the forewarnèd king his altar reared,
Humble, on Ornan's floor: for thou dost know
What first, what last, in process dread, went forth
From the Eternal's armoury of wrath,
Sorrow too vast for human heart to hold,
Destruction past example in all time.
Didst sheathe thy glittering sword, Angel of Death!
When the forewarnèd king his altar reared,
Humble, on Ornan's floor: for thou dost know
What first, what last, in process dread, went forth
From the Eternal's armoury of wrath,
Sorrow too vast for human heart to hold,
Destruction past example in all time.
But chiefly Thou, to whom the thoughts of men
Lie bare and open, from Thine inner stores
Take of the things divine, and show them me;
Much sought by nightly prayer and daily toil,
Shine on Thy servant, foolish else, and dark,
And all unfit to meditate high themes;
But haply, in Thy light beholding light,
Some rays of truth, though dimmed, he may reflect
Into the haunt and concourse of mankind,
And utter forth, in strains of solemn verse,
God's voice of warning to the sons of men.
Lie bare and open, from Thine inner stores
Take of the things divine, and show them me;
Much sought by nightly prayer and daily toil,
324
And all unfit to meditate high themes;
But haply, in Thy light beholding light,
Some rays of truth, though dimmed, he may reflect
Into the haunt and concourse of mankind,
And utter forth, in strains of solemn verse,
God's voice of warning to the sons of men.
Tell first, what cause of moment did incite
A braham's Lord and Isaac's Fear, to thrust
Thus hotly from His presence, whom His arm
So long had shielded;—whom He planted in
The mountain of His own inheritance?
For not the murmurs on their desert path,
Massah, nor Meribah, nor those false signs
Remphan and Moloch, nor the offerings vile
Of Baal-peor, grieved Thee, Spirit divine,
As this, nor all the foul idolatries
Of Israel, or more cherished Judah, drove
The God of Jacob to cast off his own.
Nor yet that day, when Babylon's fierce king
Slew in the sanctuary all the flower of youth,
And burned the house of God, till that the land
Enjoyed her Sabbaths, might with this compare;
So foul the slaughter was: without, within,
Inexorable vengeance without stint
Launched its red shafts against the fated race.
Say, then, what cause aroused such wrath in Heaven?
A braham's Lord and Isaac's Fear, to thrust
Thus hotly from His presence, whom His arm
So long had shielded;—whom He planted in
The mountain of His own inheritance?
For not the murmurs on their desert path,
Massah, nor Meribah, nor those false signs
Remphan and Moloch, nor the offerings vile
Of Baal-peor, grieved Thee, Spirit divine,
As this, nor all the foul idolatries
Of Israel, or more cherished Judah, drove
The God of Jacob to cast off his own.
Nor yet that day, when Babylon's fierce king
Slew in the sanctuary all the flower of youth,
And burned the house of God, till that the land
Enjoyed her Sabbaths, might with this compare;
So foul the slaughter was: without, within,
Inexorable vengeance without stint
Launched its red shafts against the fated race.
Say, then, what cause aroused such wrath in Heaven?
The cry of holy blood: that on the soil
Relentless poured, sent upward unto God
Its dread and silent witness evermore:
Prophet and priest and heaven-sent messengers
Cast out and foully slain: but chiefly His,
That Man of sorrows. ....
Relentless poured, sent upward unto God
Its dread and silent witness evermore:
325
Cast out and foully slain: but chiefly His,
That Man of sorrows. ....
II.
Now had the Son of God his upward path
Accomplished to Heaven's gates, which open stood
Greeting the Victor: He, for thus seemed best,
Alone, as all alone He had achieved
His mighty errand, through the yielding air
Buoyant, those adamantine portals passed,
But not unwelcomed: such a shout burst forth
From all Heaven's armies, now in order bright
Marshalled; and through clear ether jubilant,
Ten thousand times ten thousand sweetest notes
Swelled the full concord: while unnumbered harps
Woke into rapturous music: “Lo, He comes—
The Saviour of the world—the mighty Lord!
All power is given to Him in heaven and earth;
The name that is above all other names,
That before Him should every creature bow!”
Accomplished to Heaven's gates, which open stood
Greeting the Victor: He, for thus seemed best,
Alone, as all alone He had achieved
His mighty errand, through the yielding air
Buoyant, those adamantine portals passed,
But not unwelcomed: such a shout burst forth
From all Heaven's armies, now in order bright
Marshalled; and through clear ether jubilant,
Ten thousand times ten thousand sweetest notes
Swelled the full concord: while unnumbered harps
Woke into rapturous music: “Lo, He comes—
The Saviour of the world—the mighty Lord!
All power is given to Him in heaven and earth;
The name that is above all other names,
That before Him should every creature bow!”
He through the middle way of highest Heaven
Passed meekly on. Love from his countenance
Shed softest light, blended with purest joy;
And as He went, effulgent streams of flame,
Kindled by recent glory reassumed,
Thickened around Him: Heaven beneath sent up
Her fragrant incense, with thick springing flowers
Bursting in various hues; with native pearl
And flexile ruby, as a bride bedecked.
Now had the Saviour to the holiest place
Approached, where from the Father's secret throne
Issues the counsel of the will divine.
This reached, He stood, first man of all our race
Appearing at the judgment-seat of God;
In death by His own power subduing death,
Spotless from sin; the Godhead into flesh
Not turned, but taking manhood into God.
Forth with, unwonted radiance, pure and mild,
(For gaze, though of the clearest sight in heaven
That throne erewhile endured not,) issued forth;
So that all faces, reverently bent
In lowly worship, beamed with silent joy,
The while the Voice divine approval spoke:
“Sit thou on My right hand, until I make
Thy foes Thy footstool; bring within the veil
Thine human form, thus pure in righteousness;
Be Thou the King and Judge of heaven and earth;
Stand Thou beside the throne for man; here plead
Thy merits, and with grateful sacrifice
Be Thou the great High Priest, by whom alone
Shall man draw nigh to God, and meet with grace.”
Passed meekly on. Love from his countenance
Shed softest light, blended with purest joy;
And as He went, effulgent streams of flame,
Kindled by recent glory reassumed,
Thickened around Him: Heaven beneath sent up
Her fragrant incense, with thick springing flowers
Bursting in various hues; with native pearl
And flexile ruby, as a bride bedecked.
326
Approached, where from the Father's secret throne
Issues the counsel of the will divine.
This reached, He stood, first man of all our race
Appearing at the judgment-seat of God;
In death by His own power subduing death,
Spotless from sin; the Godhead into flesh
Not turned, but taking manhood into God.
Forth with, unwonted radiance, pure and mild,
(For gaze, though of the clearest sight in heaven
That throne erewhile endured not,) issued forth;
So that all faces, reverently bent
In lowly worship, beamed with silent joy,
The while the Voice divine approval spoke:
“Sit thou on My right hand, until I make
Thy foes Thy footstool; bring within the veil
Thine human form, thus pure in righteousness;
Be Thou the King and Judge of heaven and earth;
Stand Thou beside the throne for man; here plead
Thy merits, and with grateful sacrifice
Be Thou the great High Priest, by whom alone
Shall man draw nigh to God, and meet with grace.”
To whom the Saviour thus in prayer replied:
“Father, I will that on the race of men
Thou shouldst bestow another Comforter,
That He may ever with Thy Church abide;
Even the Spirit of truth, whom I will send,
My promise made of old, now due by Me.”
“Father, I will that on the race of men
Thou shouldst bestow another Comforter,
That He may ever with Thy Church abide;
Even the Spirit of truth, whom I will send,
My promise made of old, now due by Me.”
Thus spake the Son of God: and over heaven
Effluent, as odour from deep fields of balm,
Passed the Almighty Spirit: not then first
Sent forth ....
327
Passed the Almighty Spirit: not then first
Sent forth ....
III.
A lone place by the Garden of Gethsemane.First Christian.
A voice from the East!
Prophets,
(unseen.)
Arm of the Lord, awake!
Second Christian.
A voice from the West!
Martyrs,
(unseen.)
Sword of the Lord, come forth!
First Chris.
Seven nights, as I beneath the starry skies
Wandered, in heavenly contemplation-wrapt,
Have those drear sounds been uttered on mine ear.
Second Chris.
Seven nights, in flashes through the dusky air,
Mysterious visitants have come and gone;
And all Mount Zion, and Moriah's hill,
Twinkle with sudden gleams of spear and shield.
First Chris.
To-day at sunrise were we breaking bread;
And when the hymn, “Thrice Holy,” passed away,
Sweet voices in the air took up the strain,—
“Glory to Thee, O Lord most high,” they sung,
Majestic angel voices jubilant:
And then, like mighty forests heard from far,
Responsive breathed unnumbered hosts around.
Second Chris.
Hear yet. 'Tis said that some have seen the Lord:
How on yon Mount of Olives yesternight
He stood, and sternly o'er the city towers
328
The cup of wrath is full—the doom is near;
The day of vengeance of the Elect is come!
Gabriel
(unseen.)
Arise—depart!
IV.
Ephesus.—A sick chamber. The holy Angels watching by a bed. They sing softly.
Thou that art highly favoured, once more hail!
Not now with maiden blush,
Starting at the sudden guest
Speaking o'er thee salutation strange;
Not now among thy flowers
Sitting shaded from the noon, thyself
Fairest lily of all Palestine—
Yet once more hail!
Not now with maiden blush,
Starting at the sudden guest
Speaking o'er thee salutation strange;
Not now among thy flowers
Sitting shaded from the noon, thyself
Fairest lily of all Palestine—
Yet once more hail!
Thou that art blessed among women, hail!
Hail to Thy feebleness,
Evening glory of Thine hoary head,
Western brightness of Thine heavenward eye,
Lit now by faith and hope;
Foremost Thou of all the saintly band,
Standing on the brink of Jordan stream,
Once more hail!
Hail to Thy feebleness,
Evening glory of Thine hoary head,
Western brightness of Thine heavenward eye,
Lit now by faith and hope;
Foremost Thou of all the saintly band,
Standing on the brink of Jordan stream,
Once more hail!
Mother of God Incarnate, hail, all hail!
Hail flower of womanhood;
Sweetly slumbering at whose favoured breast
Jesus, holy Child, drew human strength;
At whose deep, fond eyes
Daily gazing, in long draughts He drew
Human love, to blend with power Divine:
Hail, all hail!
[OMITTED]
Hail flower of womanhood;
Sweetly slumbering at whose favoured breast
Jesus, holy Child, drew human strength;
At whose deep, fond eyes
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Human love, to blend with power Divine:
Hail, all hail!
THE END OF A CHARADE. (1855.)
THE FIRST SCENE WAS SIR WALTER RALEIGH CASTING HIS MANTLE DOWN FOR QUEEN ELIZABETH TO PASS OVER: THE SECOND, A TABLEAU, REPRESENTING PEACE; AND THEN FOLLOWED—Ladies, our first and second are before you:
We shall not act our whole, for fear it bore you.
We would not have (the thing speaks for itself)
Your kind attention laid upon the shelf.
Still, though not seen, it shall be duly heard:
So by this brief description, guess the word.
In every house, a canopy of state
Towers high above the ashes of the grate:
Of rarest stone, or polished marble fine,
Our builders raise the monumental shrine.
Nor lacks there worship. Each chill morning sees
The solitary priestess bend her knees,
With rapid arm her sable gift bestow,
Till all the niche with living lustre glow,—
Then bid the sulphurous fumes of incense rise,
Through devious tube-work, to the grateful skies,
Nor less the assembled household through the day
Throng reverent, and obsequious honours pay:
Oft you may see them in devoted row,
Elbows above, and roasting knees below,
330
Or seething waters hum their mystic hymn.
Ladies, our task is done, our riddle told:
Let each fair sage its mystic depths unfold.
IN A LETTER FROM SCOTLAND
September 1856.
O for a drosky and a pair,
To flee from wet, ennui, and care,—
To rush where Alps on Alps arise,
And genuine mountains pierce the skies;
Or by the side of some old stream,
To gaze into the heaven and dream,
Or see bright realms and hills of snow
Reflected in the calm below.
For here one dull and leaden cloud
Casts over all its daily shroud:
No star by night nor sun by day
Lights our return, nor cheers our way.
While I'm writing, rain is pouring,
Rivers rushing, shallows roaring,
Fahrenheit fifteen from freezing,
Wife and self and daughters sneezing.
To flee from wet, ennui, and care,—
To rush where Alps on Alps arise,
And genuine mountains pierce the skies;
Or by the side of some old stream,
To gaze into the heaven and dream,
Or see bright realms and hills of snow
Reflected in the calm below.
For here one dull and leaden cloud
Casts over all its daily shroud:
No star by night nor sun by day
Lights our return, nor cheers our way.
While I'm writing, rain is pouring,
Rivers rushing, shallows roaring,
Fahrenheit fifteen from freezing,
Wife and self and daughters sneezing.
Oh that I were lying roasting
On some deck, Morea coasting,
Or beholding some grand morn
Gild the spires of hot Leghorn;
Or preparing as I might
Stealthy meal 'twixt day and night,
Toasted bread, and melted butter,
Up the Hooghly, near Calcutta:
Oh that I might fly, and run
Twenty miles inside the sun,
Where they water from a kettle
Heliotropes with melted metal:
Oh that I were any where
With the heat too fierce to bear,
Teneriffe, or Isles Canary,
Smithfield under Bloody Mary,—
Any where, where cold is not
On the hobs, or in the pot,—
Or reclined on frying pan,
Whence, with many a wiser man,
Discontent, I would aspire
To a place within the fire.
On some deck, Morea coasting,
Or beholding some grand morn
Gild the spires of hot Leghorn;
Or preparing as I might
Stealthy meal 'twixt day and night,
331
Up the Hooghly, near Calcutta:
Oh that I might fly, and run
Twenty miles inside the sun,
Where they water from a kettle
Heliotropes with melted metal:
Oh that I were any where
With the heat too fierce to bear,
Teneriffe, or Isles Canary,
Smithfield under Bloody Mary,—
Any where, where cold is not
On the hobs, or in the pot,—
Or reclined on frying pan,
Whence, with many a wiser man,
Discontent, I would aspire
To a place within the fire.
TWO FRAGMENTS. (1857.)
As one who, placed in dreaded pulpit high
In Westminster or Paul's, ere sermon time
Scanning the crowd, beholds right opposite
Grim face of foe in bitter sarcasm set,
So felt I then.
In Westminster or Paul's, ere sermon time
Scanning the crowd, beholds right opposite
Grim face of foe in bitter sarcasm set,
So felt I then.
As one who, hurried, past his time for train,
Tugging at cupboard door for coat mislaid,
Breaks all his nails at once: so felt I then.
Tugging at cupboard door for coat mislaid,
Breaks all his nails at once: so felt I then.
332
FILIO DESIDERATISSIMO. (1859.)
When I paint thee what thou might'st be,
When I think on what thou art,
Trace thine image in my memory,
Search that memory through mine heart,—
Then I feel, how widely parted
Is that other side from this:
What a gulf divides our fancy
From that unimagined bliss.
When I think on what thou art,
Trace thine image in my memory,
Search that memory through mine heart,—
Then I feel, how widely parted
Is that other side from this:
What a gulf divides our fancy
From that unimagined bliss.
Sometimes by my side thou walkest,
Grown a stripling tall and fair,
Godlike in thine youthful beauty,
But oh not as thou art there!
All thine interests springing in thee,
Gushing toward me fresh and clear,
Fancy-drawn from things around me,
Speak not of that nobler sphere.
Grown a stripling tall and fair,
Godlike in thine youthful beauty,
But oh not as thou art there!
All thine interests springing in thee,
Gushing toward me fresh and clear,
Fancy-drawn from things around me,
Speak not of that nobler sphere.
Day by day, and every moment
Always present, never sought,
Standing, looking, speaking, loving,
Gliding through the realms of thought,
O my child, my spirit's presence,
Dearest comfort, nearest joy,
All these nine long years where art thou,
Where, and what, mine angel boy?
Always present, never sought,
Standing, looking, speaking, loving,
Gliding through the realms of thought,
O my child, my spirit's presence,
Dearest comfort, nearest joy,
All these nine long years where art thou,
Where, and what, mine angel boy?
333
WRITTEN UNDER A WATER-COLOUR SKETCH OF BELIDDEN COVE, CORNWALL,
TAKEN FROM A LEDGE OF ROCK IN PENOLVER HEAD, JULY 1860.
Here, midway perched between the sea and sky,
Hung I in air. Still was the noon around,
The sun beat fiercely on the glaring rocks,
And lit the blue-green waters from below
With glancing radiance. 'Twas a dizzy task
To paint from such a height: and, as the brush
Moved o'er the work, the baffled eye swam round,
Suggesting thoughts of terror. Still the charm
Bound me, to render with unskilful hand
Those solemn walls of many-tinted rock,
Those emerald waves; and over all to throw
The heavenly stillness of that summer noon.
And so I painted, rueing all the while
The steps that led me thither; and anon
Scanning the giddy ledge, whose narrow path
Must yet be travelled back.
Hung I in air. Still was the noon around,
The sun beat fiercely on the glaring rocks,
And lit the blue-green waters from below
With glancing radiance. 'Twas a dizzy task
To paint from such a height: and, as the brush
Moved o'er the work, the baffled eye swam round,
Suggesting thoughts of terror. Still the charm
Bound me, to render with unskilful hand
Those solemn walls of many-tinted rock,
Those emerald waves; and over all to throw
The heavenly stillness of that summer noon.
And so I painted, rueing all the while
The steps that led me thither; and anon
Scanning the giddy ledge, whose narrow path
Must yet be travelled back.
Even thus, methought,
Is it in life. Our daily walk sometimes
Leads over perilous brinks of depths unknown
To points of aery vision, whence the earth
And common things seem clothed in glorious light,
And steeped in noontide calm of blessed thought.
Yet ever, as the high transfigured mind
Drinks the sweet poison, doth her sight become
Inebriate, and the sober lines of life
Swim in unsteady haze: nor doth she bear
To scan the path which guides her back to truth.
Is it in life. Our daily walk sometimes
Leads over perilous brinks of depths unknown
To points of aery vision, whence the earth
And common things seem clothed in glorious light,
And steeped in noontide calm of blessed thought.
Yet ever, as the high transfigured mind
Drinks the sweet poison, doth her sight become
Inebriate, and the sober lines of life
Swim in unsteady haze: nor doth she bear
To scan the path which guides her back to truth.
334
THE LAND'S END. (1860.)
This world of wonders, where our lot is cast,
Hath far more ends than one. A man may stand
On the bluff rocks that stretch from Sennen Church,
And watch the rude Atlantic hurling in
The mighty billows:—thus his land may end.
Hath far more ends than one. A man may stand
On the bluff rocks that stretch from Sennen Church,
And watch the rude Atlantic hurling in
The mighty billows:—thus his land may end.
Another lies with gasping breath, and sees
The mightier billows of eternity
Dashing upon the outmost rocks of life:
And his Land's End is near.
The mightier billows of eternity
Dashing upon the outmost rocks of life:
And his Land's End is near.
And so, one day,
With the Lord's flock, close on Time's limit, stand
On the last headland of the travelled world,
And watch, like sun-streak on the ocean's waste,
His Advent drawing nigh.
With the Lord's flock, close on Time's limit, stand
On the last headland of the travelled world,
And watch, like sun-streak on the ocean's waste,
His Advent drawing nigh.
Thus shall the Church
Her Land's End reach: and then may you and we,
Dear Cornish friends, once more in company,
Look out upon the glorious realms of hope,
And find the last of earth,—the first of God.
Her Land's End reach: and then may you and we,
Dear Cornish friends, once more in company,
Look out upon the glorious realms of hope,
And find the last of earth,—the first of God.
LIFE'S QUESTION. (1861.)
Drifting away
Like mote on the stream,
To-day's disappointment
Yesterday's dream;
Ever resolving—
Never to mend:
Such is our progress:
Where is the end?
Like mote on the stream,
To-day's disappointment
Yesterday's dream;
335
Never to mend:
Such is our progress:
Where is the end?
Whirling away
Like leaf in the wind,
Points of attachment
Left daily behind,
Fixed to no principle;
Fast to no friend;
Such our fidelity:
Where is the end?
Like leaf in the wind,
Points of attachment
Left daily behind,
Fixed to no principle;
Fast to no friend;
Such our fidelity:
Where is the end?
Floating away
Like cloud on the hill,
Pendulous, tremulous,
Migrating still:
Where to repose ourselves?
Whither to tend?
Such our consistency:
Where is the end?
Like cloud on the hill,
Pendulous, tremulous,
Migrating still:
Where to repose ourselves?
Whither to tend?
Such our consistency:
Where is the end?
Crystal the pavement,
Seen through the stream:
Firm the reality
Under the dream:
We may not feel it,
Still we may mend:
How we have conquered
Not known, till the end.
Seen through the stream:
Firm the reality
Under the dream:
We may not feel it,
Still we may mend:
How we have conquered
Not known, till the end.
336
Bright leaves may scatter,
Sports of the wind,
But stands to the winter
The great tree behind:
Frost shall not wither it,
Storms cannot bend:
Roots firmly clasping
The rock, at the end.
Sports of the wind,
But stands to the winter
The great tree behind:
Frost shall not wither it,
Storms cannot bend:
Roots firmly clasping
The rock, at the end.
Calm is the firmament
Over the cloud:
Clear shine the stars, through
The rifts of the shroud:
There our repose shall be,
Thither we tend:
Spite of our waverings
Approved at the End.
Over the cloud:
Clear shine the stars, through
The rifts of the shroud:
There our repose shall be,
Thither we tend:
Spite of our waverings
Approved at the End.
LIFE'S ANSWER. (1862.)
I know not if the dark or bright
Shall be my lot:
If that wherein my hopes delight
Be best or not.
Shall be my lot:
If that wherein my hopes delight
Be best or not.
It may be mine to drag for years
Toil's heavy chain:
Or day and night my meat be tears
On bed of pain.
Toil's heavy chain:
Or day and night my meat be tears
On bed of pain.
337
Dear faces may surround my hearth
With smiles and glee:
Or I may dwell alone, and mirth
Be strange to me.
With smiles and glee:
Or I may dwell alone, and mirth
Be strange to me.
My bark is wafted to the strand
By breath divine:
And on the helm there rests a hand
Other than mine.
By breath divine:
And on the helm there rests a hand
Other than mine.
One who has known in storms to sail
I have on board:
Above the raving of the gale
I hear my Lord.
I have on board:
Above the raving of the gale
I hear my Lord.
He holds me when the billows smite,
I shall not fall:
If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light;
He tempers all.
I shall not fall:
If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light;
He tempers all.
Safe to the land—safe to the land,
The end is this:
And then with Him go hand in hand
Far into bliss.
The end is this:
And then with Him go hand in hand
Far into bliss.
A LETTER TO AMERICA.
February 1862.
This to Hale in the West, from the Dean beneath his Cathedral.
Greeting and health, and many New-year and Christmas blessings;
Also, apologies many, for letting the year pass by me
All unmindful of time, no token of gratitude rendered.
'Twas not ingratitude, 'twas not your war, nor the pressure of head work,
But the trick of making the work of to-day the plan for to-morrow.
Now however I'm fairly afloat, and shall finish my letter.
First, concerning things here: and then about you and your matters.
Off on Candlemas day I started with one companion
Bound for the City Eternal. To you I need not set forth
Those four weeks of pleasure and interest wrought to the highest:
Need not say, how duly we searched the crumbling temples,
How we walked and basked in the glorious wide Campagna,
Treading its carpet of flowers, and breathing its scented breezes:
But I may say, that we also searched the Vatican Codex,
Thanks to a friend at Court, and licence from Antonelli.
Sweetest joys must have an end: our four weeks finished,
I by Cassian way, Bolsena and Acqua-pendente,
Took the road to Siena, and, getting glimpses of Florence,
Skirted the coast to Spezia's glorious bay, and by Genoa
Over the Mont Cenis, and so by railway to Paris.
After that, the summer ran on, with duty and leisure,
Quiet and uneventful: save that a medical congress
Gathered from all the land, in our ancient city assembled;
Voted themselves infallible, cursed the Homœopathics,
Lectured, and ate and drank, and at the Deanery soiréed,
Went their way to their homes, θανατον και κηρα φεροντες.
Greeting and health, and many New-year and Christmas blessings;
338
All unmindful of time, no token of gratitude rendered.
'Twas not ingratitude, 'twas not your war, nor the pressure of head work,
But the trick of making the work of to-day the plan for to-morrow.
Now however I'm fairly afloat, and shall finish my letter.
First, concerning things here: and then about you and your matters.
Off on Candlemas day I started with one companion
Bound for the City Eternal. To you I need not set forth
Those four weeks of pleasure and interest wrought to the highest:
Need not say, how duly we searched the crumbling temples,
How we walked and basked in the glorious wide Campagna,
Treading its carpet of flowers, and breathing its scented breezes:
But I may say, that we also searched the Vatican Codex,
Thanks to a friend at Court, and licence from Antonelli.
Sweetest joys must have an end: our four weeks finished,
I by Cassian way, Bolsena and Acqua-pendente,
Took the road to Siena, and, getting glimpses of Florence,
Skirted the coast to Spezia's glorious bay, and by Genoa
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After that, the summer ran on, with duty and leisure,
Quiet and uneventful: save that a medical congress
Gathered from all the land, in our ancient city assembled;
Voted themselves infallible, cursed the Homœopathics,
Lectured, and ate and drank, and at the Deanery soiréed,
Went their way to their homes, θανατον και κηρα φεροντες.
Then our holiday came: in Rydal valley we spent it,
Snug in our “own hired house” beneath the elbow of Loughrigg.
Oh but to think of the rain that pelted us all that autumn,
Flood, and mizzle, and shower, and shower and flood and mizzle,
Rotha over his banks, and all the waterfalls roaring,
I in Macintosh case, and sometimes Alice and Mary,
Splashing away to the Ambleside Post-office nightly for letters.
If strong waters are bad for the human constitution,
Then are all we four done up and ruined for ever.
Still we drew and walked, and made our hay when the sun shone:
Or at Fox How sometimes at croquet played with the Arnolds,
Or in cars to neighbouring lakes attempted excursions.
So dripped on the weeks: and about the end of October
Homeward sped we again to all our habits and duties.
Since then, day on day and week on week has gathered,
One the same as another, and all o'erflowing with blessings.
Snug in our “own hired house” beneath the elbow of Loughrigg.
Oh but to think of the rain that pelted us all that autumn,
Flood, and mizzle, and shower, and shower and flood and mizzle,
Rotha over his banks, and all the waterfalls roaring,
I in Macintosh case, and sometimes Alice and Mary,
Splashing away to the Ambleside Post-office nightly for letters.
If strong waters are bad for the human constitution,
Then are all we four done up and ruined for ever.
Still we drew and walked, and made our hay when the sun shone:
Or at Fox How sometimes at croquet played with the Arnolds,
Or in cars to neighbouring lakes attempted excursions.
So dripped on the weeks: and about the end of October
Homeward sped we again to all our habits and duties.
Since then, day on day and week on week has gathered,
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Of ourselves sufficient: and now of the public around us.
Full in the midst of all our calm, when we thought us securest,
Came the Angel of Death, and smote our Sovereign's household,
Smote the stay of the throne,—the wise and faithful adviser:
Left our princes fatherless,—left our Queen a widow.
Never in history's day have a people mourned as we did:
All to this hour is black in church, and home, and assembly:
All speak sad and soft, and pray each day for the mourners.
Full in the midst of all our calm, when we thought us securest,
Came the Angel of Death, and smote our Sovereign's household,
Smote the stay of the throne,—the wise and faithful adviser:
Left our princes fatherless,—left our Queen a widow.
Never in history's day have a people mourned as we did:
All to this hour is black in church, and home, and assembly:
All speak sad and soft, and pray each day for the mourners.
But by this time enough of the tears and sorrows of England.
You too have your cares; America too has her sorrows.
May I but say, that England's heart is stricken to see them?
May I venture near, and tell you we do not hate you?
May but England persuade you how sister feels for sister,
Sister sober and calm, for sister strong and maddened?
You too have your cares; America too has her sorrows.
May I but say, that England's heart is stricken to see them?
May I venture near, and tell you we do not hate you?
May but England persuade you how sister feels for sister,
Sister sober and calm, for sister strong and maddened?
First, let me speak of your war; your Confederate-Federal quarrel.
Certainly, we do sit and wonder when we hear you
Talk of rebels and treason, and justify all by quoting
England's example a century since. Strange turning of tables!
Is it, because the eagle is struck with his own black feather?
Strange, that you should appeal to an England that is no longer,
Back to the dark old ages of long-forgotten coercion.
This same England, believe me, if Canada, some fine morning,
Wished to try it alone, would say, “Good-bye, and welcome;”—
Give them a prince for king, or start them without, no matter.
This same England looks for the day when Australian kingdoms,
Great and glorious and free, shall quit the side of their mother,
Loyally, peacefully parted, firm fast friends for ever.
Why not north and south part thus, and remain thus friendly?
What can you gain by your war? what indeed but bloodshed and taxes?
Take Lord Chatham's words, for you as for us prophetic,
“No, believe me you cannot, you cannot conquer the Southerns.”
Crush them you may, in time: but what will accrue by the process?
Anarchy, wild and hopeless: a desolate land and a bloody:
Ravaged homes, and burning farms, and wasted plantations:
Africa's mild oppressed ones turned into beasts of the forest,—
Animal passions awakened,—their freedom cursed in its dawning.
Tell me not of a holy war: fair Liberty's colours
Strive to float in vain from the spires of New York and Boston:
There is no wind in heaven so false to truth, as to lift them,
So they hang recreant and shamed, and none sail by and believe them.
Where would slavery be, if North and South were to sever?
Say, confined to the South. And would that gain be nothing?
Would not the fugitive slave on Northern soil be a freeman?
Still, one cannot believe that, if North and South were to sever,
Slavery could endure ten years in its present condition.
Then, the South must turn her about and seek connexions,
Stand with an open brow in the gaze of the world's opinion,
Answer for all her deeds, not as once by convenient excuses,
Talking of complications and Washington constitutions,
But stern fact to fact, and truth in its simple meaning.
Certainly, we do sit and wonder when we hear you
Talk of rebels and treason, and justify all by quoting
341
Is it, because the eagle is struck with his own black feather?
Strange, that you should appeal to an England that is no longer,
Back to the dark old ages of long-forgotten coercion.
This same England, believe me, if Canada, some fine morning,
Wished to try it alone, would say, “Good-bye, and welcome;”—
Give them a prince for king, or start them without, no matter.
This same England looks for the day when Australian kingdoms,
Great and glorious and free, shall quit the side of their mother,
Loyally, peacefully parted, firm fast friends for ever.
Why not north and south part thus, and remain thus friendly?
What can you gain by your war? what indeed but bloodshed and taxes?
Take Lord Chatham's words, for you as for us prophetic,
“No, believe me you cannot, you cannot conquer the Southerns.”
Crush them you may, in time: but what will accrue by the process?
Anarchy, wild and hopeless: a desolate land and a bloody:
Ravaged homes, and burning farms, and wasted plantations:
342
Animal passions awakened,—their freedom cursed in its dawning.
Tell me not of a holy war: fair Liberty's colours
Strive to float in vain from the spires of New York and Boston:
There is no wind in heaven so false to truth, as to lift them,
So they hang recreant and shamed, and none sail by and believe them.
Where would slavery be, if North and South were to sever?
Say, confined to the South. And would that gain be nothing?
Would not the fugitive slave on Northern soil be a freeman?
Still, one cannot believe that, if North and South were to sever,
Slavery could endure ten years in its present condition.
Then, the South must turn her about and seek connexions,
Stand with an open brow in the gaze of the world's opinion,
Answer for all her deeds, not as once by convenient excuses,
Talking of complications and Washington constitutions,
But stern fact to fact, and truth in its simple meaning.
But to speak still of you:—it seems to us you are maddened,
Till you can't see straight, and totter about in your passion.
Look at the case of the Trent: was ever a thing more simple?
Wilkes's act was condemned by the voice of unanimous Europe:
France that was thirsting for vengeance for Waterloo, (vide your journals,)
First to protest, with ourselves. Yet all is set down to England
Wanting to bully the North, and taking advantage of weakness.
Then, for the arguments used: was ever fallacy plainer?
If I suspect a man of conspiring to do me a mischief,
Have I a right to skulk by the line with a pack of marauders,
Drag him out of the train, and shut him up in a pigsty,
And then claim great praise for not having brought him to justice?
And next what did you mean, in blocking up Charleston harbour?
If the land is your own, and the Southerns are but rebels,
Surely destroying your own is not like a sane man's action:
If it be not your own, why then you're committing an outrage
Unexampled in History's page, and the rules of warfare.
All that is man's is for man: blockade, if you will, their harbours;
But to destroy for all time, is simply the work of a savage,—
Nor must he who thus acts be surprised to find himself branded
Foe to the race of man.
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Look at the case of the Trent: was ever a thing more simple?
Wilkes's act was condemned by the voice of unanimous Europe:
France that was thirsting for vengeance for Waterloo, (vide your journals,)
First to protest, with ourselves. Yet all is set down to England
Wanting to bully the North, and taking advantage of weakness.
Then, for the arguments used: was ever fallacy plainer?
If I suspect a man of conspiring to do me a mischief,
Have I a right to skulk by the line with a pack of marauders,
Drag him out of the train, and shut him up in a pigsty,
And then claim great praise for not having brought him to justice?
And next what did you mean, in blocking up Charleston harbour?
If the land is your own, and the Southerns are but rebels,
Surely destroying your own is not like a sane man's action:
If it be not your own, why then you're committing an outrage
Unexampled in History's page, and the rules of warfare.
All that is man's is for man: blockade, if you will, their harbours;
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Nor must he who thus acts be surprised to find himself branded
Foe to the race of man.
All this we see, and wonder;
Wonder, that British blood should ever have flowed so devious
From the straightforward course which it commonly takes in these islands,
Justice and truth deserting, and all the maxims of progress:
Wonder, that you, the first to call yourselves free and enlightened,
Should be the slaves of a brutal mob, bent blindly on vengeance.
Wonder, that British blood should ever have flowed so devious
From the straightforward course which it commonly takes in these islands,
Justice and truth deserting, and all the maxims of progress:
Wonder, that you, the first to call yourselves free and enlightened,
Should be the slaves of a brutal mob, bent blindly on vengeance.
But I have spoken enough, and more perhaps than was fitting.
No, we hate you not: we wish you well over your troubles,
Claiming to understand them somewhat better than you do:
All that has happened to you was long ago predicted:
All, but Americans, saw that the North and South must quarrel:
All, that the boasted Union was but a hollow delusion:
May your eyes be opened ere long, to see it as we do!
No, we hate you not: we wish you well over your troubles,
Claiming to understand them somewhat better than you do:
All that has happened to you was long ago predicted:
All, but Americans, saw that the North and South must quarrel:
All, that the boasted Union was but a hollow delusion:
May your eyes be opened ere long, to see it as we do!
Well, forgive me, my friend: or if my nonsense have stung you
Past forgiveness, lay it aside, and burn this Epistle:
Go to your little Nelly, and kiss her for me and my daughters:
Reign in your wisdom supreme, and fight, and rail at the British.
Past forgiveness, lay it aside, and burn this Epistle:
Go to your little Nelly, and kiss her for me and my daughters:
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But mean while forget not the spell of the old Cathedral:
How you came here to see that Deans and Canons were useful:
Ask your soul, in the hour when popular ciamour is silent,
Whether one use of a Dean may not be, to turn adviser:
Try the “beati pacifici” line: pour oil on the waters:
They may tar and feather you: still, you've the satisfaction
You are the true American—they, but swaggering Yankees.
How you came here to see that Deans and Canons were useful:
Ask your soul, in the hour when popular ciamour is silent,
Whether one use of a Dean may not be, to turn adviser:
Try the “beati pacifici” line: pour oil on the waters:
They may tar and feather you: still, you've the satisfaction
You are the true American—they, but swaggering Yankees.
EVENING HEXAMETERS. (1863.)
Darkly the minster-towers, against the glow of the sunset,
Rise from the purple band of mist that beleaguers the city:
Golden the sky behind, into purest silver melting,
Then dissolved into azure, and arching over the zenith;
Azure, but flushed with rose, in token that day yet lingers.
Porcelain-blue in their haze, the hills watch over our dwellings;
O'er them the evening-star its pale clear beacon hath kindled.
All is calmness and silence, a scene from the happier country.
O blest shades of Eve! O gentle parting of daylight:
Masses of colour divine, all human skill surpassing!
Earthly pleasures may flit, and leave but a pang behind them:
Friends that we love may die, and their faces be past recalling:
Only an hour like this fades never away from remembrance,
Only thoughts like these track all our life with blessing.
If the sun setteth no more in the golden country of promise,
Then must all be changed,—or else were this earth more lovely!
Sunset, beautiful sunset—summer, and winter, and autumn,
Ay, and the budding springtide—what were they all without thee?
Lulling the day to sleep with all its busy distractions,
Calming the soul from toil to share the blessing of converse,
Tinting the skies with a thousand hues unknown to the daylight,
Touching the temples of earth with a coal from the fire of the altar,
Fading away into calmness, and bringing the mood of devotion:
Hail, thou time of prayer, and praise, and holy remindings!
Never does God come down on the soul, as at fall of Evening:
Fair is the rise of the Sun, and glorious the East in its kindling,
But then comes the day, and the surface of thought is ruffled;
Day, with the world, and with care, and with men's importunate faces.
Far more blessed is Eve: when all her colours are brightest,
One by one they have time to grow slowly fainter and fainter,
Fade, and fade, and fade, like music that dies in the distance:
Then still night draws on, and drops her veil over all things,
Sealing the memory up, a possession of beauty for ever.
Rise from the purple band of mist that beleaguers the city:
Golden the sky behind, into purest silver melting,
Then dissolved into azure, and arching over the zenith;
Azure, but flushed with rose, in token that day yet lingers.
Porcelain-blue in their haze, the hills watch over our dwellings;
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All is calmness and silence, a scene from the happier country.
O blest shades of Eve! O gentle parting of daylight:
Masses of colour divine, all human skill surpassing!
Earthly pleasures may flit, and leave but a pang behind them:
Friends that we love may die, and their faces be past recalling:
Only an hour like this fades never away from remembrance,
Only thoughts like these track all our life with blessing.
If the sun setteth no more in the golden country of promise,
Then must all be changed,—or else were this earth more lovely!
Sunset, beautiful sunset—summer, and winter, and autumn,
Ay, and the budding springtide—what were they all without thee?
Lulling the day to sleep with all its busy distractions,
Calming the soul from toil to share the blessing of converse,
Tinting the skies with a thousand hues unknown to the daylight,
Touching the temples of earth with a coal from the fire of the altar,
Fading away into calmness, and bringing the mood of devotion:
347
Never does God come down on the soul, as at fall of Evening:
Fair is the rise of the Sun, and glorious the East in its kindling,
But then comes the day, and the surface of thought is ruffled;
Day, with the world, and with care, and with men's importunate faces.
Far more blessed is Eve: when all her colours are brightest,
One by one they have time to grow slowly fainter and fainter,
Fade, and fade, and fade, like music that dies in the distance:
Then still night draws on, and drops her veil over all things,
Sealing the memory up, a possession of beauty for ever.
Surely the western glow lay warm on the vaults of the temple,
When the parents came in, with the doves, the poor man's offering,
Bringing the holy Child to do as the law commanded.
Fell not the roseate light on the snow-white hair of the Ancient,
Lit it not up in his arms the soft fair flesh of the Infant,
Sparkled it not on the tear in the eye of the maiden Mother,
While like incense there rose from the depths of the satisfied spirit
“Let me depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy promise!’
Therefore the Church doth sing her Nunc dimittis at evening,
Evening, when all is peace, and the land of peace looks closest,
When life seems at an end, and all its troubles behind us,
And the salvation so near, that the soul yearns forth to grasp it.
When the parents came in, with the doves, the poor man's offering,
Bringing the holy Child to do as the law commanded.
Fell not the roseate light on the snow-white hair of the Ancient,
Lit it not up in his arms the soft fair flesh of the Infant,
Sparkled it not on the tear in the eye of the maiden Mother,
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“Let me depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy promise!’
Therefore the Church doth sing her Nunc dimittis at evening,
Evening, when all is peace, and the land of peace looks closest,
When life seems at an end, and all its troubles behind us,
And the salvation so near, that the soul yearns forth to grasp it.
Burned not the domes of the city with day's last beam in the distance,
When those two turned in, arrived at their door in the village,
When they besought Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is evening?”
Fell not the purpling shadows o'er rock and crumbling ruin,
As they sped joyful back to tell their tale to the mourners?
When those two turned in, arrived at their door in the village,
When they besought Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is evening?”
Fell not the purpling shadows o'er rock and crumbling ruin,
As they sped joyful back to tell their tale to the mourners?
Thus doth the spirit in singing of earth, pause ever and listen,
Seeking an echo from Him, her centre of life and blessing
Thus flows forth all beauty from Him who is best and brightest.
All fair things are of Thee, thou dear Desire of the nations,
Thou art the Sun of life, and day is alone where Thou art:
Thine the effulgence there, and Thou the orb of its glory.
Set Thou never on me, best light of my soul! Be near me
In the meridian hours, the toil and heat of the noon-day:
Nor do Thou fail, when the night falls round, and the shadows enwrap me.
Seeking an echo from Him, her centre of life and blessing
Thus flows forth all beauty from Him who is best and brightest.
All fair things are of Thee, thou dear Desire of the nations,
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Thine the effulgence there, and Thou the orb of its glory.
Set Thou never on me, best light of my soul! Be near me
In the meridian hours, the toil and heat of the noon-day:
Nor do Thou fail, when the night falls round, and the shadows enwrap me.
But by this, from the western heaven hath faded the daylight,
Vesper hath trimm'd his lamp, and the keen stars twinkle around him;
Still loom forth from the bank of mist that hath buried the city
Darkly the minster-towers; but gone is the glow of the sunset.
Vesper hath trimm'd his lamp, and the keen stars twinkle around him;
Still loom forth from the bank of mist that hath buried the city
Darkly the minster-towers; but gone is the glow of the sunset.
A GREETING TO SPRING. (1863.)
Hail to the woods once more! Hail blessed burst of the spring tide!Float over fathomless blue the fair white clouds on the zenith:
Breathes once more the balmier air, all nature stirring.
Spread profuse on the bank where I walk, the glorious mosses
Broider their winter's green with fresh spring lining of gold-work,
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Rains from its shuttle such light, alternately passing and passing.
Primrose-flecked beneath, the valley under the branches
Stretches away, till the gleaming trunks give place in the distance
To the rich purple brown of the winter trees in the sunlight.
Booming around me the bee, in swells and falls alternate,
Joins his hum to the chorus of larks that hang in the æther
Poised in the spaces of blue, and fill all nature with music.
BE JUST AND FEAR NOT. (1863.)
Speak thou the truth. Let others fence,
And trim their words for pay:
In pleasant sunshine of pretence
Let others bask their day.
And trim their words for pay:
In pleasant sunshine of pretence
Let others bask their day.
Guard thou the fact: though clouds of night
Down on thy watch-tower stoop:
Though thou shouldst see thine heart's delight
Borne from thee by their swoop.
Down on thy watch-tower stoop:
Though thou shouldst see thine heart's delight
Borne from thee by their swoop.
Face thou the wind. Though safer seem
In shelter to abide:
We were not made to sit and dream:
The safe, must first be tried.
In shelter to abide:
We were not made to sit and dream:
The safe, must first be tried.
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Where God hath set His thorns about,
Cry not, “The way is plain:”
His path within for those without
Is paved with toil and pain.
Cry not, “The way is plain:”
His path within for those without
Is paved with toil and pain.
One fragment of His blessed Word,
Into thy spirit burned,
Is better than the whole, half-heard,
And by thine interest turned.
Into thy spirit burned,
Is better than the whole, half-heard,
And by thine interest turned.
Show thou thy light. If conscience gleam,
Set not thy bushel down:
The smallest spark may send his beam
O'er hamlet, tower, and town.
Set not thy bushel down:
The smallest spark may send his beam
O'er hamlet, tower, and town.
Woe, woe to him, on safety bent,
Who creeps to age from youth,
Failing to grasp his life's intent,
Because he fears the truth.
Who creeps to age from youth,
Failing to grasp his life's intent,
Because he fears the truth.
Be true to every inmost thought,
And as thy thought, thy speech:
What thou hast not by suffering bought,
Presume thou not to teach.
And as thy thought, thy speech:
What thou hast not by suffering bought,
Presume thou not to teach.
Hold on, hold on—thou hast the rock,
The foes are on the sand:
The first world-tempest's ruthless shock
Scatters their shifting strand:
The foes are on the sand:
The first world-tempest's ruthless shock
Scatters their shifting strand:
While each wild gust the mist shall clear
We now see darkly through,
And justified at last appear
The true, in Him that's True.
We now see darkly through,
And justified at last appear
The true, in Him that's True.
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FILIOLÆ DULCISSIMÆ. AN EASTER OFFERING. (1863.)
Say wilt thou think of me when I'm away,
Borne from the threshold and laid in the clay,
Past and forgotten for many a day?
Borne from the threshold and laid in the clay,
Past and forgotten for many a day?
Wilt thou remember me when I am gone,
Further each year from thy vision withdrawn,
Thou in the sunset, and I in the dawn?
Further each year from thy vision withdrawn,
Thou in the sunset, and I in the dawn?
Wilt thou remember me, when thou shalt see
Daily and nightly encompassing thee
Hundreds of others, but nothing of me?
Daily and nightly encompassing thee
Hundreds of others, but nothing of me?
All that I ask is a gem in thine eye,
Sitting and thinking when no one is by,
Thus looked he on me—thus rung his reply.
Sitting and thinking when no one is by,
Thus looked he on me—thus rung his reply.
Ah, but in vain is the boon that I seek:
Time is too strong, or remembrance too weak:
Soon yields to darkness the evening's last streak.
Time is too strong, or remembrance too weak:
Soon yields to darkness the evening's last streak.
'Tis not to die, though the path be obscure:
Grand is the conflict, the victory sure:
Vast though the peril, there's One can secure:
Grand is the conflict, the victory sure:
Vast though the peril, there's One can secure:
'Tis not to land in the region unknown,
Thronged by bright spirits, all strange and alone,
Waiting the doom from the Judge on the Throne:
Thronged by bright spirits, all strange and alone,
Waiting the doom from the Judge on the Throne:
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But 'tis to feel the cold touch of decay
'Tis to look back on the wake of one's way
Fading and vanishing day after day:
'Tis to look back on the wake of one's way
Fading and vanishing day after day:
This is the bitterness none can be spared:
This, the oblivion the greatest have shared:
This, the true death for ambition prepared.
This, the oblivion the greatest have shared:
This, the true death for ambition prepared.
Thousands are round us, toiling as we,
Living and loving,—whose lot is to be
Passed and forgotten, like waves on the sea.
Living and loving,—whose lot is to be
Passed and forgotten, like waves on the sea.
Once in a lifetime is uttered a word
That doth not vanish as soon as 'tis heard:
Once in an age is humanity stirred.
That doth not vanish as soon as 'tis heard:
Once in an age is humanity stirred.
Once in a century springs forth a deed
From the dark bands of forgetfulness freed,
Destined to shine, and to help, and to lead:
From the dark bands of forgetfulness freed,
Destined to shine, and to help, and to lead:
Yet not e'en thus escape we our lot:
The deed lasts in memory, the doer is not:
The word liveth on, but the voice is forgot.
The deed lasts in memory, the doer is not:
The word liveth on, but the voice is forgot.
Who knows the forms of the mighty of old?
Can bust or can portrait the spirit enfold,
Or the light of the eye by description be told?
Can bust or can portrait the spirit enfold,
Or the light of the eye by description be told?
Nay, even He who our ransom became,
Bearing the Cross and despising the shame
Earning a Name above every name,—
Bearing the Cross and despising the shame
Earning a Name above every name,—
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They who had handled Him while He was here,
Kept they in memory His lineaments clear,—
Could they command them at will to appear?
Kept they in memory His lineaments clear,—
Could they command them at will to appear?
They who had heard Him, and lived on His voice,
Say, could they always recall at their choice
The tone and the cadence which made them rejoice?
Say, could they always recall at their choice
The tone and the cadence which made them rejoice?
Be we content then to pass into shade,
Visage and voice in oblivion laid,
And live in the light that our actions have made.
Visage and voice in oblivion laid,
And live in the light that our actions have made.
Yet do thou think of me, child of my soul:—
When the dark waves of forgetfulness roll,
Part may survive in the wreck of the whole.
When the dark waves of forgetfulness roll,
Part may survive in the wreck of the whole.
Still let me count on the tear in thine eye,
“Thus bent he o'er me, thus went his reply,”
Sitting and thinking when no one is by.
“Thus bent he o'er me, thus went his reply,”
Sitting and thinking when no one is by.
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THE SEASONS: A MASQUE.
AS PRESENTED BY FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ATTENDANTS.
I. Part I.
The Prologue was given by Father Christmas habited in a red robe, with a white beard and an icy crown.SOLO: BASS.
Father Christmas am I, white, withered, and dry,
With a gift in my hand, and a spark in my eye;
With the snow in my pole, and my feet to the coal,
But a fresh warm joy in the depths of my soul.
With a gift in my hand, and a spark in my eye;
With the snow in my pole, and my feet to the coal,
But a fresh warm joy in the depths of my soul.
Father Christmas behold, all ashiver with cold,
But the parent of blessings too vast to be told;
Father Christmas is here but once in the year,
But his gifts and his memory ever are near.
But the parent of blessings too vast to be told;
Father Christmas is here but once in the year,
But his gifts and his memory ever are near.
And now I have summoned my chorus around,
While my servants, the Seasons, come forth and are crowned:
That my guests the kind powers in order may see,
Which ripen the growth of the Christmas Tree.
While my servants, the Seasons, come forth and are crowned:
That my guests the kind powers in order may see,
Which ripen the growth of the Christmas Tree.
The scene opened, and disclosed the months, ranged by threes according to their Seasons. These were represented by twelve young ladies in white apparel, with proper wreaths and adornments. A harmony of four voices invoked the Spring.
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Come, come, thou lingering Spring,
Sprouting the leaf, and clothing the bower,
Pushing the bud, and opening the flower,
Melting the frost, and dropping the shower:
Come, come, thou tarrying Spring,
Come, come, thou lingering Spring.
Sprouting the leaf, and clothing the bower,
Pushing the bud, and opening the flower,
Melting the frost, and dropping the shower:
Come, come, thou tarrying Spring,
Come, come, thou lingering Spring.
Come, come, thou dallying Spring,
Over the hills that rise to the West,
Show us the gleam of thy sky-blue vest,
Look but upon us and we shall be blest:
Come, come, thou lingering Spring.
Over the hills that rise to the West,
Show us the gleam of thy sky-blue vest,
Look but upon us and we shall be blest:
Come, come, thou lingering Spring.
At this entered the Spring, decked in vernal flowers, but not yet crowned. The Chorus announced her in a trumpet-like strain. She standing in the midst sung her roundelay.
SOLO: TREBLE.
I am here, I am here, with a smile and a tear,
With my bright blue eye, and my breath in a sigh,
And the soft mild air awake in my hair.
With my bright blue eye, and my breath in a sigh,
And the soft mild air awake in my hair.
Come hie ye away, March, April, and May,
With your garland of green, and crown me your Queen,
While ye sing as ye stand on the blossoming land.
With your garland of green, and crown me your Queen,
While ye sing as ye stand on the blossoming land.
CHORUS.
Hail, hail, hail!
We crown thee, we crown thee, O Spring.
Whereon the three Spring months placed on the head of Spring a garland of snowdrops, and the curtain fell on this part, amidst gladsome music.
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II. Part II.
The scene being as before, with Spring crowned at the head of her months, Father Christmas entered, and announced the approach of Summer.RECITATIVE: BASS.
Now wheels the sun in loftier march
His path across the daily sky,
And humming wings in leafy arch
Proclaim the gladsome summer nigh.
His path across the daily sky,
And humming wings in leafy arch
Proclaim the gladsome summer nigh.
Blest Summer, sparkling child of light,
Calmer of ocean, sky, and tree,
Bring festive day, bring balmy night:
Appear, let all thy brightness see.
Calmer of ocean, sky, and tree,
Bring festive day, bring balmy night:
Appear, let all thy brightness see.
Summer being seen entering, a harmony of three voices gave her welcome.
TRIO: SOPRANO, ALTO, AND TENOR; AND CHORUS.
See Summer advancing,
With golden beams glancing,
With winged myriads dancing
Before her in air:
With warm breezes blowing,
And crystal streams flowing,
And bright blossoms glowing
Entwined in her hair.
With golden beams glancing,
With winged myriads dancing
Before her in air:
With warm breezes blowing,
And crystal streams flowing,
And bright blossoms glowing
Entwined in her hair.
Hail! Queen of soft pleasures,
All bounteous of treasures,
'Tis thus in glad measures
We welcome thee here.
May sunshine ne'er fail thee,
Nor tempests assail thee,
We crown thee and hail thee,
The Queen of the year.
All bounteous of treasures,
'Tis thus in glad measures
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May sunshine ne'er fail thee,
Nor tempests assail thee,
We crown thee and hail thee,
The Queen of the year.
On which her months crowned her with a garland of roses, and the curtain dropped with merry music.
III. Part III.
The Scene as before, with Spring and Summer, crowned, at the head of their months. The waning of the year was described in a harmony of four voices, and Autumn was invoked by the Chorus.QUARTETT: SOPRANO, ALTO, TENOR, AND BASS; AND CHORUS.
What see we now! The fields grow sere,
The gossamer floats along the lea,
The reaper shouts his harvest cheer,
The apple blushes on the tree.
The gossamer floats along the lea,
The reaper shouts his harvest cheer,
The apple blushes on the tree.
The sportsman's crack rings merrily,
The yellow moon is round and clear,
By the driving clouds and the foaming sea,
Autumn, we charge thee, appear, appear.
The yellow moon is round and clear,
By the driving clouds and the foaming sea,
Autumn, we charge thee, appear, appear.
So entered Autumn, and being in the midst, but uncrowned, sung of her rich bestowals, and claimed her crown.
SOLO: TREBLE.
I come, the year waits me: I come to bestow
The ripe fruits that melt, and the colours that glow:
The gems of the sunset, the gold of the leaves,
The joy of the grape, and the wealth of the sheaves.
The ripe fruits that melt, and the colours that glow:
The gems of the sunset, the gold of the leaves,
The joy of the grape, and the wealth of the sheaves.
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Come crown me, come crown me, ye months of my train,
None waited for Autumn and waited in vain:
The bright Summer's promise I come to fulfil,
For rich store and plenty 'tis Autumn brings still.
None waited for Autumn and waited in vain:
The bright Summer's promise I come to fulfil,
For rich store and plenty 'tis Autumn brings still.
And then her months crowned her with a wreath of poppies and corn, and with joyful music the curtain closed on the third part.
IV. Part IV.
The scene being as before, Spring, Summer, and Autumn, crowned, at the head of their months, Father Christmas, as belonging to him of right, called on his kindred Winter to appear.RECITATIVE: BASS.
Come Winter, come my first-born child,
Come with thy train of horrors wild,
Come with the storm from tempest-cloud
Through leafless forest shrieking loud.
Come with thy train of horrors wild,
Come with the storm from tempest-cloud
Through leafless forest shrieking loud.
Come with thy days that swiftly go,
Thy piercing stars, and dazzling snow,
The skate thy music, ringing shrill,
Thy robe, the white drift on the hill.
Thy piercing stars, and dazzling snow,
The skate thy music, ringing shrill,
Thy robe, the white drift on the hill.
Winter entering, was welcomed by the Chorus.
CHORUS
Hail to Winter! time of gladness.
Kindler of the blazing hearth,
Banisher of care and sadness,
Parent of bright thoughts and mirth.
Kindler of the blazing hearth,
Banisher of care and sadness,
Parent of bright thoughts and mirth.
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Thus we crown thee Queen of Pleasures,
With the dark wreath on thy brow,
Keeper of the year's young treasures,
Best of all the seasons thou!
With the dark wreath on thy brow,
Keeper of the year's young treasures,
Best of all the seasons thou!
On which Winter was crowned by her months with a wreath of holly bright with berries. Being crowned, she took her place at the head of her months, and Father Christmas gave the Epilogue.
SOLO: BASS.
Father Christmas once more comes and knocks at your door,
And begs you to think on the houseless and poor;
On the Coventry Weavers that starve in the frost,
And the good you may do without feeling the cost.
And begs you to think on the houseless and poor;
On the Coventry Weavers that starve in the frost,
And the good you may do without feeling the cost.
Former years may have boasted their temperate clime,
But Christmas this year has both reason and rime;
For the pumps and the cisterns he froze them up all,
And shrunk the thermometers into the ball.
But Christmas this year has both reason and rime;
For the pumps and the cisterns he froze them up all,
And shrunk the thermometers into the ball.
So remember, I pray you, our pageant to-night,
And as charity's large, so may spirits be light:
And attend yet a little with favouring ear,
While in chorus we wish you a Happy New-Year.
And as charity's large, so may spirits be light:
And attend yet a little with favouring ear,
While in chorus we wish you a Happy New-Year.
At this the Chorus sung their closing strain.
CHORUS.
To all that are here
A happy new-year,
Months of profit and of mirth,
Social blessings without dearth
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Balanced minds in full employ,
Houses full of peace and love,
Rich with blessings from above:
A happy new-year
To all that are here.
A merry, merry Christmas, and a happy new-year.
This done, the curtain fell amidst cheerful music. Father Christmas bestowed his gifts, and so down to supper. Then the rest of the evening was spent with mingled converse and Christmas Games.
God Save the Queen.
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | |