Reverberations | ||
I. PART I.—SOCIAL.
Prelude.
OUR AGE.
And ye languish o'er a dead ideal;
If we cannot boast an age of gold,
Men and women yet, thank God, are real!
Regal Church and soldier King delight you;
But a royal life and knightly death,
Even in this age of prose, invite you.
Think not faith and love can ever perish;
Do not mourn that the old forms are dead,
But the enduring spirit seek and cherish.
Into one brave friendship let men enter;
All the stars and planets, as they roll,
Find in one great sun their common centre.
Save them ere they fade from earth unheeded;
Mould them into pure creative light:
Never, never was that light more needed.
Of sweet thought, dissolved to feeling sweeter;
Flash the truth from swift and fiery lays,
Smooth rude passion into flowing metre.
Healthy work for all, that none may sorrow;
He alone reveres the world's large plan,
Who with cheerful brow salutes the morrow.
Trust me, friends, a right good time is ours:
Here is work that brings glad rest at last;
Here are hopes that bear immortal flowers.
But a summer dawns when spring is failing;
And majestic days are marching on,
To reproach us for our weak bewailing.
Lordlier governance shall bless the nations,
Sweeter lips shall murmur sweeter rhymes,
Life shall give us holier revelations.
Ye that languish o'er a dead ideal;
If we cannot boast an age of gold,
Men and women yet, thank God, are real!
BALDER.
Beautiful as summer dawn was he,
Loved of gods and men, the royal-hearted!
Balder, the white Sungod, has departed,
Has gone home where all the brave ones be.
For the sagas which suggested the poems of Balder (noticed and imitated in Fraser's Magazine), see Mr Carlyle's “Cromwell” and “Hero-Worship.” The political and social allusions in these poems are still intelligible. The flight of Louis Philippe, the panic of petty Continental sovereigns—“The Frost Kings” of “Thor”—the hopes and the fears of 1848-49, are glanced at in these Scandinavian poems.
For a universe that weeps and prays,
Rides Hermoder forth to seek his brother,
Rides for love of that distressful mother,
Through lead-coloured glens and cross-blue ways.
Nine days rode he, deep and deeper down,
Won the waste death-kingdom, wild and horrent,
Won the lonely bridge that spans the torrent
Of the Moaning-river by Hell-town.
Sleepless torturer of the brain of men,
Merciless and skilled in arts that sever
Soul from soul and mind from mind for ever,
That they never, never meet again.
Balder whom both gods and men hold dear?”
But the Portress, who delights to wither
Hope's white blossoms, answered, “Hither, hither,
Balder came, but Balder is not here.
Downward, northward, in the realm of Death,
Balder dwells, where whitening roars and hisses,
Leaping down the invisible abysses,
Hell's mad stream with pants of furious breath.
If in quest of Balder thou wilt ride;
Through the heavy gloom, where, worn and weary,
Faints the traveller in his journey dreary,
Where all ghostly sounds and sights abide.”
Mane of Gold! what steed is like to thee?
On through fire-trenched vales, hills scarred with thunder,
Onward rode the youth in silent wonder,
Brave and good must young Hermoder be.
In the dim dead world he stands below;
There he sees the beautiful Immortal,
Sees his Balder, under Hela's portal,
Sees him and forgets his pain and woe.
Balder, beautiful as summer-morn?
O my Sungod! hearts of heroes crowned thee
For their King: they lost, but now have found thee;
Gods and men shall not be left forlorn.
The eternal splendours all have fled,
Truth and Love and Nobleness are banished,
The Heroic and Divine have vanished,
Nature has no God, and Earth lies dead.
Teach the hearts of men to love the Gods.
Come thou back, and comfort our great mother,
Come with truth and bravery, Balder, brother,
Bring the Godlike back to men's abodes.”
Balder never was to come again.
Vainly, vainly, young Hermoder pleaded;
Balder never was to come. Unheeded,
Young Hermoder wept and prayed in vain.
Even now it is as it was then:
Earth hath lost a portion of her glory,
And, like Balder in the ancient story,
Never comes the Beautiful again.
Through lead-coloured glens and cross-blue ways;
Still he calls his brother, pleading gravely,
Still to the death-kingdom ventures bravely,
Calmly to the eternal Terror prays.
Courage, noble Feeling, are in vain,
For the Beautiful has gone for ever.
Vain are Courage, Genius, strong Endeavour;
Never comes the Beautiful again.
No! like young Hermoder I would ride,
With an humble, yet a gallant daring,
I would leap unquailing, undespairing,
Over the huge precipice's side.
The old arts and old religions fled;
But I gladly live amid the Real,
And I seek a worthier Ideal.
Courage, brothers, Heaven is overhead!
THOR.
Bravely sails the soldier of the Cross;
Canvas flutters, twinkles oar on oar,
Havens rise, then sink beneath the shore,
White and purple waves round Olaf toss.
Dear to royal Olaf is the land;
Its tall cliffs bear up the solid skies,
Far and near the great pine forest lies,
Fast and firm the hills on Norland stand.
Of the killing Frost, and wandering Fire,
Filled the hearts of all good men with woe,
Whirling wreaths of flame and drifts of snow,
But Thor came and drove them out in ire.
Drove the wicked giants all away.
Softly in his summer heat he trod,
Clothed with thunder, brave and earnest God!
Awe with Grace and Goodness dwells for aye.
Glad when all the wicked Frost-kings fled;
In the winter were they born and reared,
In the night these shapeless things appeared,
With no heart, and only half a head.
Followed by his band of peasants true!
How they fell down underneath the sky!
How when Thor with thunder-mace drew nigh,
Fled the Frost-king with his phantom crew!
In the searching sunlight it must die;
Noble names no nobleness can give,
If within no nobleness there live;
Can the Godlike blossom from a lie?
Vanished that strong summer heat before,
And again the life-tree freshlier springs,
And again stand forth the true old kings,
Round the God of light and thunder, Thor.
Rules and guides the loyal hearts of men,
Works, nor recks how rude his work may be,
Peasant's king yet peasant's friend is he;
Clear and peaceful are each hill and glen.
But the holy to the holier yields;
Royal Olaf sails along the shore,
But the soul of Christ, and not of Thor,
Rests on Norland's groves and Norland's fields.
Olaf thought of living leaves alone,
Loved the new God in the old God's stead,
For the faith of Thor was nearly dead,
And he gave away his crown and throne.
Sails along the shore with Christian knights;
Swift from port to port the vessel speeds,
Bears King Olaf doing kingly deeds,
Wrongs redressing, and adjusting rights.
With the still deep eyes and aspect grave,
With strong arms, proud head, and stately neck,
Stands with ruddy beard upon the deck,
Calm as summer splendour, and as brave?
And sharp questions try the stranger's wit:
What the stream that flows round every land?
What all feel but none can understand?
What the first, last word that Odin writ?
“Ever present is the stream of Time—
Felt, not understood, half light, half shade,
Half unveiled, half veiled, the World is made—
Valour still is Odin's word sublime.”
And they led the stranger to the king.
Long they spake of power that dwells apart,
Of the Gods and of the human heart,
And the good that dwells in everything.
Of the eternal music nature plays,
Of the wonder brooding over life,
Of the grace that flowers from peace and strife,
Of deep purple nights and broad blue days.
Spake of love and freedom, truth and law,
Spake of song that charms both soul and ear,
Spake of toil, to noble spirits dear,
Spake of holy beauty, heavenly awe.
Praises much the granite rocks that rise,
Crowned with leaves and blossoms, steep and hoar,
Strong and beautiful along the shore,
Looking up into the true old skies.
“It is beautiful to heart and eye,
With the royal sunlight on it shed,
With the great blue summer overhead,
Looking up into the true old sky.
But full many a day of travail sore,
Many a battle with the giant crew,
Making it a right fair home for you,
Green and fruitful, had the loving Thor.
Is it fair, King Olaf, is it fair?
All the heat and burthen of the day
Fell on him whom now you put away!
Have a care, King Olaf, have a care.”
Looked at him: all turned their heads aside,
Blushed like men that feel their broken vows,
Trembled underneath those dreadful brows,
Quite forgetting all their knightly pride.
Here they searched and there they searched in vain,
Called aloud, and sought in every spot;
Searched throughout the ship, but saw him not,—
He was never, never seen again.
Thus the ancient Gods must leave the earth;
None now treads the old and sacred ways,
Old leaves fall and the old fruit decays,
Fades for ever the primeval worth.
A new splendour in the actual time.
Ever present is the Eternal Mind,
Ever shall the faithful seeker find,
Ever listen to the starry chime!
'Tis not Art, 'tis but the Arts that die;
Ankle-deep in flowers the poets tread,
Neither faith nor loyalty is dead,
Still the ancient sun is in the sky.
With his summer heat and hammer-bolt,
With fresh flowerage clothing vale and hill;
Quiet, loving Thor is with us still,
In the forest, and on heath and holt.
And among the awakening nations Thor
Speaks of love and freedom long deferred;
Breathes of song, breathes Odin's symbol-word,
While King Olaf sails along the shore.
He subdues the Frost-kings, one by one,
Oversets their thrones with right good will,
Bids the phantom lords of earth lie still,
Melts the winter's snow with summer's sun.
And with noble heart, is in the world.
How have men obeyed his high command!
How has Thor, with his imperial hand,
The old standard of the Gods unfurled!
Labour yet make thought august and strong;
Love's sweet light shall smooth our troubled air,
And the deeds of men be wise and fair,
And great feelings blossom into song.
From the dead a living world shall rise;
Winter fades before the vernal rain,
Clothed in roses Summer comes again:
Over all are the eternal skies.
ALCESTIS.
Bid a long farewell to earth and sun:—
Nobler deed beneath a Grecian sky,
Ev'n for love's dear sake, was never done!
Came from the dim shadowy land below,
When the dreaming World half held her breath,
Ere the Sungod raised his glittering bow.
Death before the lord Admetus stood.
“I am come,” he cried, “to have thy life;
Die, or give another life as good.”
Father, mother, wept but turned away!
Then Alcestis rose with noble cheer,
Whispering, “I will gladly die to-day.”
A forlorn and miserable man,
Through his lordly realms, where brooks meandered,
And where rivulets to rivers ran.
Hideous the pale moonshine on the wall,
Worthless all his hopes and all his dreams;
And that life of his—most vile of all.
Smote him under heaven's upbraiding dome,
And with the first throbs of morning light,
In his guilt and weakness he went home.
Like a waning moon in silver cloud,
With a queenlier presence, stature higher,
Stept forth, in her pride not overproud.
Set her throne towards the rising sun,
Knowing she should never see him more,
Knowing life must set ere day were done.
Ere she crowned her with that noble deed,—
That to perish with succeeding hours,
This to live, while hours to hours succeed.
Gladdener, thou, of Gods and men divine!
For the last time do I see thy ray,
For the last time do I feel thee shine.
Sight of vernal buds and summer bloom,
Sight of Delphi's rock, Dodona's tree,
Sense of ample splendour, gorgeous gloom;
Dream till they grow Godlike as they dream,
Till they do great deeds, unknown before,
And behold the Gods and feel like them.
White round limb, red lip, and full large eye,
Of their pretty play and simple grace,
And the sight of him for whom I die.”
Then Admetus, gazing on the ground,
Stood by her, and said, “O peerless friend!
Thee alone have I still faithful found.
Didst not fear, didst not avert thine eye”—
“Fear!” she interrupted, with quick tone;
“Should a Grecian woman fear to die?
Freely, willingly, I yield my breath;
For we need not live ambrosial days,
But we ought to die a noble death.
Thus alone grow beautiful and strong,
Meet to enter the serene abodes,
Worthy to be loved and named in song.
But be thankful for thy ransomed life.
Be thou wise and earnest, good and brave,
Soldier-hearted, though there be no strife.
With the sunbeams and the sweet, warm breeze;
Let them hear the mighty waters roll,
Hear the hollow plunging of the seas.
With your open looks, and fresh, white arms,
Æthra, Laon, do ye plead with me,
But in vain are all your prayers and charms.
You will need no mother's tender care;
Father, mother, both shall live in one,
And our love shall grow more deep and rare.
And the outward world is waxing dim,
And a shadow o'er my eyes is cast,
O'er the earth, and round the sky's blue rim.
O soft meadows, where the violets grow!
O dear country, where I had my birth!
Must I leave you? Must I, must I go?
All thy scented fields and singing brooks,
All the glancing lights of summer eve,
All the summer morning's calmer looks.
Dropping over all thy purple folds;
And farewell, O Sun! whose central eye
All the ages and the acts beholds.
Blessed be the Gods that ask it back,
Crowning their young athlete in the strife,
Scattering flowers upon their herald's track.
Kiss me, husband, children, for I go
To the still and lovely shadow-land,
Where the Elysian spirits love and know.
Think of me in the glad after-time,
Tell my little daughter what to do
If fate call her to a death sublime.
If thou grieve to think how it befell,—
Hush, I hear His voice, He summons me:
Husband! children! take my last farewell!”
And Admetus and his children wept;
She, while they were grieving at her side,
With her garland and her glory slept.
ADMETUS.
Touched with grace the dreaming heart of man;
Star, flower, ocean, all he heard and saw,
Told of life that ere our life began.
In the initial stanzas of this poem I have attempted to describe the Fetichistic or fictitious stage of the intellectual progression—“the spontaneous tendency of the intellect to account to itself for all cases of Causation by assimilating them to the intentional acts of voluntary agents like itself.” Rude nations, says the Abbé Raynal, quoted by Mr Mill in his “System of Logic,” do really believe sun, moon, and stars, earth, sea, and air, fountains and lakes, to have understanding and active power. The Fetichistic stage is the first of the three stages through which, according to Auguste Comte's fundamental law, all human speculation passes. “In the first of these,” says Mr Mill, “it tends to explain the phenomena by supernatural agencies, in the second by metaphysical abstractions, and in the third or final state confines itself to ascertaining their laws of succession and similitude. This generalisation appears to me to have that high degree of scientific evidence which is derived from the concurrence of the indications of history with the probabilities derived from the constitution of the human mind.”—System of Logic.
Mirrored now in ocean, now in sky;
Lent his own strong will to fire and storm;
Called, and heard a fairer Self reply.
Clouds before the chasing breeze that ran,
Rill, and wind that warbled to the rill,
Sun and star to man reflected man.
God and goddess made their home on earth,
White-armed Here and the blue-eyed Maid,
Bacchus and the Queen of smiles and mirth.
'Mid the shadow of a mystic woe;
Not a splendour might the God retain,
Neither golden sword nor silver bow.
Like a common man he moved along;
But his harp still charmed him day and night—
Godlike souls are ever charmed with song.
Begged the pieties of house and hearth;
Craved a shelter though in mean abode,
And implored him by his noble birth.
And he made him lord of all his sheep;
In soft glades and meadows was his care,
On the knolls and in the valleys deep.
Song divine athwart the uplands swells;
Thus Apollo charms the wandering flocks,
Thus in lowly form the Godhead dwells.
Sweetly harped the harper of the sun,
But the god was veiled from human eyes,
Light and voice alike were felt by none.
Fawn and lynx would listen to his lays!
And their large, bright eyes would softlier burn;
So wild nature its true king obeys.
Smiles once more in calm, Olympian bliss,
And that deed of guilt is all forgiven;
Ah! that the great Gods should do amiss.
Breaks a low, sad wail upon his ears;
Still his thoughts are with the sorrowing King,—
Gods are touched at sight of human tears.
Death to give him back that queenly wife;
But the King of Shadows answer made,
“I have won, and I will keep her life.”
With the graceful sanctified the strong,
Called the fruitful field from dragon's den,
And with sword prepared the world for song
Him, the prophet-god, at fall of day,
Onward, to the lawny uplands led,
Where the kingly mourner's palace lay.
Travel-worn, and faint for lack of food,
Staying for awhile that mournful din,
Silencing that wailing multitude?”
“Be thou welcome both to house and board,
Though a lady dear to him hath died,
Dear are gentle uses to my lord.”
Vexed in heart and worn in every limb,
But the viands cheered him as he ate,
And the grape's red blood was shed for him.
Said the feaster to the patient slave,
“Tell me who it is that ye have mourned,
Who it is ye carry to the grave.”
“And with no sad tale would weary thee.”
“Name the dead,” the heroic stranger cried;
“Name the dead, and leave the rest to me.”
We have lost a lady, he a wife,
And to colour and inflame his woe,
She for him laid down her noble life.
And had borne him dead among the dead,
But the prayer of love half changed the claim—
The wife perished in the husband's stead.”
“Westward, lord,” replied the marvelling slave.
“How attired was he?”—“In thick black shroud.”
“How far gone?”—“No farther than the grave.”
Tell him to forget his grief and cares;
He who gives the wandering stranger wine,
Entertains the Gods though unawares.”
Forth into the darkness and the night;
For he had conceived a great intent,
Death to challenge and o'erthrow in fight.
Downward, downward to the House of Death,
Where the darkness lies, a weary load,
And the traveller pants with short, thick breath.
Graspt him till his clenchèd hands grew white,
Here they stood and wrestled hip to hip,
Breast met breast like waves across the night.
Stars had climbed the heaven, and stars withdrawn,
Light was shed on temple and on tower,
And the halls of Pheræ felt the dawn.
Now the East was crossed with bars of gold,
Voice and step rang clear along the way,
And the early wind blew fresh and cold.
Had arrayed each old Thessalian hill,
King Admetus, yearning with desire,
Would go forth his beating heart to still.
When a voice fell pulsing on his ear.
Soon Admetus turned, and knew the God,
In his quiet beauty standing near.
Tranquil power was in each look and limb;
Half the Godhead was from sight withdrawn,
And the manhood half smiled out on him.
Friends await thee in thy echoing halls.
Thou art gazing on no mortal face;
When a God appears, fair Hap befalls.
Kindness, courtesy, I had from thee;
Once I was thy servant and thy guest,
Now behold a God, a friend in me.”
Thus the pilot-star the wanderer leads;
Still is valour heralded by youth,
Still Apollo Hercules precedes.
Wandering past the unfolded palace-gates,
As a man that knows some fair dread thing,
Fair though dread, his coming step awaits.
Hoping, fearing, till the hall he won;
Lo! a lord and lady standing nigh,
Silent in the presence of the sun.
He was strong, but travel-worn and pale,
She, retired in her sweet womanhood,
Hid her face behind a snow-white veil.
Gentle service ye shall have from me;
Ye are friends for great Apollo's sake:
Hail, O lord! and lady, hail to thee!”
“Through rude ways, through many a mountain rift,
Safely lead to thee a lovely bride;
Worthy of the giver is the gift.”
I have lately lost a gentle wife;
Surely, surely, I should act amiss,
If I ever joyed again in life.”
Kindness ever kindness will beget.
Late Admetus gave with liberal hands,
Hercules as amply pays the debt.
Followed on no common foeman's track,
And along a wild, untravelled way,
Have I led a captive lady back.
Thou hast never had a truer friend;
Stronger than the grave will be her love,
Not Alcestis can her worth transcend.”
“Sacred as the Gods her fame shall be;
Still by reverent lips shall she be named,
And, though dead, shall be beloved by me.”
By the silver shafts that round us play,
Raise the veil, O King! and thou wilt know
What a loss it were to disobey.
Oft a veil will cover noble worth;
If we raise it, as the Immortals bid,
Oft return the old love and truth to earth.”
Then with trembling hand the veil uplifts;
Ah! it is no stranger that he sees,
But the Heavens restore their ancient gift.
From the grave to consecrate their life;
To his joy and passion leave the King,
To her love the tender, loyal wife.
THE LADY ALVA'S WEB.
(An Allegory.)
And with the sun arose;
Then clad her in an amice white
As are the northern snows.
The Lady Alva knelt and prayed
In a still voice and small;
I did not hear the words she said,
And yet I know them all.
This was originally a semi-pantheistic poem. I wish it now to be regarded as an attempt to delineate the incompre-hensible and multifarious activity of existence, by ascribing to the great mystery of Power a human-like agency,—the natura naturans conducting the marvellous transformations in the external world being represented by the spirit which in the human world exercises a corresponding magical ministration.
In isolated spot;
Her dwelling was a web of stone,
A complicated grot.
Here porphyry tendril, granite thread,
Were laced and interlaced;
Here pebble white and pebble red
Were intricately placed.
Were twined and intertwined,
In form of fairy, shape of hag,
Before her and behind;
And in the centre of the coil,
A web more curious far
The lady wrought with patient toil,
From rise to set of star.
All day the shuttle threw,
And evermore she sang her thought,
And swift her fingers flew.
She sang and wove, nor any strife
'Twixt song and web could find;
She held that song interprets life,
As life interprets mind.
The Soul that dwells in all,
That brightens in the starry sky
Or breathes when young winds call;
That mild and lonely Spirit weaves
His web of suns and spheres,
Of winds and waves, and flowers and leaves,
Of days and months and years.
In pleasure and in pain,
Asserts his endless reign.
He weaves his web, and I weave mine,
And ever as I weave,
Through weal and woe, through shade and shine,
I sing and never grieve.
My threads are thickly crossed;
The work is strong, and rich its dyes,
No lovely hue is lost.
So action spreads; so noble deeds
With noble deeds conspire;
So life from life to life proceeds,
In circles ever higher.
Like hues of sunset skies,
And intermix and interflow
Dyes matched with kindred dyes.
So graceful act, melodious speech,
To noble purpose tend;
Wise aims unite, and each with each
The hues of kindness blend.
So weaves and sings in me
The lord of good, the lord of ill,
The lord of all that be:
That gleam in Nature's loom,
In rainbow cloud, in rosy air,
In blade and bud and bloom.
That Spirit is not sad:
His name is Beautiful, and he
Is neither good nor bad.
Above all ill, above all good,
He harmonises all;
He smiles on the vast brotherhood,
He loves both great and small.
He works from age to age,
In silence sweet of morn and eve,
Or tempest's kingly rage.
He weaves his web. But mine is wrought,
Here ends my mystic lay;
One colour more completes my thought,
One sunbeam more the day.”
And through the tissue led,
With shuttle swift and finger fair,
The consummating thread;
Nor maiden-white, nor loyal blue,
Nor red, nor green there lack,
And glides through all the solemn hue,
The dread and fatal black.
Her task and song are done;
The shadows fall, the day is o'er,
Down goes the glorious sun.
The Lady Alva rose with light,
And must with light retire;
There can no work be done at night,
No workman take his hire.
No mystic web is there?
I look, but I no longer see
The magic lady fair.
Yet doubt I not the tale is true,
But silent and alone
I look within, and weave anew
The Lady's web of stone.
THE NOBLE LESSON.
In this poem, as in the ode at the end of the volume, is an admiring and reverential estimate of the character of the Founder of Christianity, which harmonises with that of Strauss, Shelley, and other repudiators of Christian dogmatics. Mr J. S. Mill's appreciation is too unqualified, but he has, in my judgment, touched truly on some of the beautiful human attributes of the great Prophet of Nazareth. Jesus is to me, as to Mr Mill, “probably the greatest moral reformer and martyr to that mission who ever existed upon earth.” In the section on “Religion,” by the “one mind, the sovereign will,” I mean the collective spirit of the human race, conceived as one continuous whole, including the Past, the Present, and the Future. “On all sides,” says Mr Lewes, “it appears that Nature embodies the transfigured desires of man, and the idealising spirit of man. It is the work, the emotion, and the thought of Humanity.”
“In rights are all men equal” (p. 80).—The Justinian Code declares the natural equality of men. Social equality is an ideal to be realised by peaceful approximations, by reforms in manners, opinions, and sentiments; by education, community of work, and constant personal intercourse. Absolute equality is a chimera. The equality which I consider possible is based on the general recognition of human worth. Such an equality is not incompatible with veneration for superior gifts, with the subordination essential to the prosecution of common enterprise, with an appreciation of the sanctities of antiquity, or even the claims of gentle birth, if the merit of the living descendant serve to recall the debt of gratitude which we owe to the nobler ancestor.
I. INDUCTION.
For right and duty I uphold,
Great truths and mighty mysteries teach,
Taught by the wise of old.
Freely he sends his thoughts abroad,
Hoping that good may be increased,
And evil overawed.
Are evermore in his control,
The future sleeps, with folded wings,
In his prophetic soul.
Freedom in city and in glen;
Buy freedom, buy and sell it not;
Be free, and free—be men.
The souls that feel, the heads that plan,
And guard as holy ground the grave
Of every noble man.
The poet's faith unlocks the skies:
Hope through the shadowy gates of death,
Showed Dante Paradise.
Love lights the worm beneath the sod,
Love crowns the king upon the throne,
Love, only love is God.
Do what ye can, not what ye would;
And often be content to spare
Some evil for much good.
For moon and rainbow never fret;
This world, believe me, is not heaven,
Nor are we angels yet.
We may exalt it day by day,
May make it worthier of the skies,
And give it lordlier sway.
Truth and religion may be ours,
And joy and love shall spring unsought,
Like birds from wayside bowers.
But take this awful truth with thee—
Thou must be brave, and good and wise,
Before thou can'st be free.
II. EDUCATION.
Is nourished both by sun and shower,
Yet self-unfolds its leaves anew,
And self-creates each flower.
Shall pass into thy human mind,
And thoughts and feelings of high birth
Thou in deep heavens shalt find.
Till it give oracles to thee;
And be not fractional, but whole,
Brave, frank, and simple be.
Unveil thy leaves, unfurl thy flowers,
Draw glory from the sunrise, win
Strength from the sunset bowers.
A merry, graceful child of health;
Scatter thy quips and quirks about,
And they shall be thy wealth.
And she shall give thee tears and kisses,
The frolic love of her wild heart,
Praise, blame, and grief, and blisses.
Language and music she shall teach,
All simple motion, regal state,
All song, all rhythm speech.
Shall in thy templed spirit dwell;
Music shall make thee swift and strong,
And so shalt thou excel.
A beautiful well-doing robe
Thy pure white soul, as light divine
Apparels the round globe.
His fulness thy heroic stature;
The life of Jesus shall grow real,
And be allied to Nature.
His love and his self-immolation,
His calm, brave soul, in pain and need,
Were meant for imitation.
Tread earth as great king Adam trod;
And if a brother call thee worm,
Tell him thou art a god.
III. CITIZENSHIP.
Thou as a citizen shalt keep;
Uphold thy mother's royal plan,
With counsel true and deep.
When she is mute no answer seek;
To equal use and wont defer,
Until she learn to speak.
Wisely to rule the realm of Being,
In speech, in action, and in thought,
Far-reaching and far-seeing.
Thine own true words shalt thou obey;
They shall have worship in thine eyes
That cannot pass away.
“Give me matter,” says Kant, “and I will build the world;” and deducing from simple data a doctrine similar to the well-known “Nebular Hypothesis” of Laplace, he accounts for the relations of the masses and the densities of the planets to their distances from the sun, for the eccentricities of their orbits, for their rotations, for their satellites, for the general agreement in the direction of rotation among the celestial bodies, for Saturn's ring and for the zodiacal light. The nebular hypothesis shows that prior to the earth being in a fluid state it existed, dissolved in a vast nebula, the parent of the solar system; that this nebula gradually contracted and condensed, throwing off the planets one by one; that the central portion of the nebula, condensed perhaps to the fluid state, exists at present as the sun. See Huxley's “Lay Sermons,” p. 241, and Lockyer's “Lessons in Astronomy,” p. 88.
“That far planet.”—Neptune. Mr Adams of the University of Cambridge, a native of Cornwall, and M. Leverrier of Paris, independently and almost simultaneously discovered the theoretical place of this planet, which was found very near the position thus assigned it by Dr Galle, September 23, 1846.
The existence of an unknown planet was inferred by Kant from scientific data. In 1771 Uranus was discovered by Sir William Herschell, justifying the inference of the philosopher.
The “kingly orb” of the poem is Jupiter; the “world of wild romance,” Saturn; the “daughter of the sun,” Venus; the “eldest born of light,” Mercury; the “mysterious radiance” from the sun, the zodiacal light, an appendage of the sun which extends beyond the earth. The stanzas describing the biological evolution have been recently inserted, as the poem when composed, in 1849, dealt only with the idea of planetary evolution. I have endeavoured to give a poetical expression to recent speculations, in particular, to Mr Herbert Spencer's doctrine of transmitted experiences, in the new verses. As regards what is said of the eye, Mr Spencer writes:—
“As soon as there exists a rudimentary eye capable of receiving an impression from a moving object about to strike the organism, and so rendering it possible for the organism to make some adapted movement, there is shown the dawn of actions which we distinguish as intelligent. As soon as the organism, fully sensitive to a jar or vibration propagated through its medium, contracts itself so as to be in less danger from the adjacent source of disturbance, we perceive a nascent form of the life classed as psychical. That is to say, whenever the correspondence exhibits some extension in space or time, some increase of speciality or complexity, we find we have crossed the boundary between physical life and psychical life.” —Principles of Psychology, p. 392.
In reason and in conscience peers,—
All kings, whom Nature's purple pall
Clothes as the air the spheres.
Think more of duties than of dues;
Govern the better to obey;
Be loth the sword to use.
Live in the light of coming hours;
Nor tremble at the passionate blast
That rocks the world's grey towers.
Behold a happier future rise,
And gaze as with the joy sublime
Of one that sees and dies.
A Phœbus with resplendent locks,
Man's friendship for entailed estate,
True heart for ballot-box.
Love all the brothers of thy blood,
For others live, for others die,
Not great, but nobly good.
Open to all the human race,
Unchain the sunlight, loose the breeze,
Make free all time and space.
Self-balanced, central as the sun;
Each nation hath its Fatherland,
Yet are all nations one.
IV. SOCIAL BEING.
A cloistered virtue wins small praise;
Glad shalt thou dwell among thine own,
And lead ambrosial days.
With a deep worship in thy heart,
Impassioned yet ascetic too,
Thy love a church, not mart.
With pictured face and speechful eyes,
With thoughts like calm ere break of storm,
Feelings like sunset skies.
Shall sanctify thy dwelling lowly,
All needs and cares by thy sweet wife
Shall be transfigured wholly.
Treat thou thy children like young gods,
Incarnate of the eternal prime,
To dwell in man's abodes.
Fine apprehensions, shadowy feelings,
Above them like the heavens shall rest,
With eloquent revealings.
In action and in thought like thee,
In temper gay if thou art grave,
If gay, he grave should be.
Go up into thy mountain high;
Look not for the familiar nod,
Nor always ask reply.
Truth's sweet low singing night and day;
But if they seek no starry sphere,
Still hold thy heavenward way.
In soul and body bid him thrive;
With gentle Coleridge, deem a mother
The holiest thing alive.
And glorify the humblest lot
With songs in praise of sacred labour,
And see thou idle not.
So shalt thou bear, where'er thou be,
The blessings of the evening skies
And morning stars with thee.
V. RELIGION.
Must lay the great foundation-stone
In piety, for he shall dwell
Secure in that alone.
As on a diamond rock be built,
And so thy house shall never fall
Like homes of ancient guilt.
The magic moon, the orb divine
From which the kindred orbs had birth
That round their father shine.
The world's glad life, the heart's great law,
The Mystery never understood,
The great primeval Awe.
Humanity, In this poem, as in the ode at the end of the volume, is an admiring and reverential estimate of the character of the Founder of Christianity, which harmonises with that of Strauss, Shelley, and other repudiators of Christian dogmatics. Mr J. S. Mill's appreciation is too unqualified, but he has, in my judgment, touched truly on some of the beautiful human attributes of the great Prophet of Nazareth. Jesus is to me, as to Mr Mill, “probably the greatest moral reformer and martyr to that mission who ever existed upon earth.” In the section on “Religion,” by the “one mind, the sovereign will,” I mean the collective spirit of the human race, conceived as one continuous whole, including the Past, the Present, and the Future. “On all sides,” says Mr Lewes, “it appears that Nature embodies the transfigured desires of man, and the idealising spirit of man. It is the work, the emotion, and the thought of Humanity.”
“In rights are all men equal” (p. 80).—The Justinian Code declares the natural equality of men. Social equality is an ideal to be realised by peaceful approximations, by reforms in manners, opinions, and sentiments; by education, community of work, and constant personal intercourse. Absolute equality is a chimera. The equality which I consider possible is based on the general recognition of human worth. Such an equality is not incompatible with veneration for superior gifts, with the subordination essential to the prosecution of common enterprise, with an appreciation of the sanctities of antiquity, or even the claims of gentle birth, if the merit of the living descendant serve to recall the debt of gratitude which we owe to the nobler ancestor.
The Soul to which all souls aspire,
The Presence felt by stream and hill,
In cloud and sunset fire:
That wakes high thought to noble deed,
That still discrowns the ancient Wrong,
Crowns Right where patriots bleed:
That dwells, a mind in every mind,
That lives, learns, praises, disapproves,
The Soul of humankind.
In this poem, as in the ode at the end of the volume, is an admiring and reverential estimate of the character of the Founder of Christianity, which harmonises with that of Strauss, Shelley, and other repudiators of Christian dogmatics. Mr J. S. Mill's appreciation is too unqualified, but he has, in my judgment, touched truly on some of the beautiful human attributes of the great Prophet of Nazareth. Jesus is to me, as to Mr Mill, “probably the greatest moral reformer and martyr to that mission who ever existed upon earth.” In the section on “Religion,” by the “one mind, the sovereign will,” I mean the collective spirit of the human race, conceived as one continuous whole, including the Past, the Present, and the Future. “On all sides,” says Mr Lewes, “it appears that Nature embodies the transfigured desires of man, and the idealising spirit of man. It is the work, the emotion, and the thought of Humanity.”
“In rights are all men equal” (p. 80).—The Justinian Code declares the natural equality of men. Social equality is an ideal to be realised by peaceful approximations, by reforms in manners, opinions, and sentiments; by education, community of work, and constant personal intercourse. Absolute equality is a chimera. The equality which I consider possible is based on the general recognition of human worth. Such an equality is not incompatible with veneration for superior gifts, with the subordination essential to the prosecution of common enterprise, with an appreciation of the sanctities of antiquity, or even the claims of gentle birth, if the merit of the living descendant serve to recall the debt of gratitude which we owe to the nobler ancestor.
That links the present to the past,
That with the world's first child began,
To end but with its last:
The mother-life of thought and act,
Thy sacred Fair-ideal be,
And omnipresent fact.
Cloud, rainbow, sunset-heavens, shall be
Cathedral, temple, colonnade,
And house of God to thee.
There once man's highest lore was taught;
That blossomed stone, that pictured pane,
Was once a poet's thought.
To men; to man with golden bands:
This is religion—thus shall rise
The House not made with hands.
GENESIS.
“Give me matter,” says Kant, “and I will build the world;” and deducing from simple data a doctrine similar to the well-known “Nebular Hypothesis” of Laplace, he accounts for the relations of the masses and the densities of the planets to their distances from the sun, for the eccentricities of their orbits, for their rotations, for their satellites, for the general agreement in the direction of rotation among the celestial bodies, for Saturn's ring and for the zodiacal light. The nebular hypothesis shows that prior to the earth being in a fluid state it existed, dissolved in a vast nebula, the parent of the solar system; that this nebula gradually contracted and condensed, throwing off the planets one by one; that the central portion of the nebula, condensed perhaps to the fluid state, exists at present as the sun. See Huxley's “Lay Sermons,” p. 241, and Lockyer's “Lessons in Astronomy,” p. 88.
“That far planet.”—Neptune. Mr Adams of the University of Cambridge, a native of Cornwall, and M. Leverrier of Paris, independently and almost simultaneously discovered the theoretical place of this planet, which was found very near the position thus assigned it by Dr Galle, September 23, 1846.
The existence of an unknown planet was inferred by Kant from scientific data. In 1771 Uranus was discovered by Sir William Herschell, justifying the inference of the philosopher.
The “kingly orb” of the poem is Jupiter; the “world of wild romance,” Saturn; the “daughter of the sun,” Venus; the “eldest born of light,” Mercury; the “mysterious radiance” from the sun, the zodiacal light, an appendage of the sun which extends beyond the earth. The stanzas describing the biological evolution have been recently inserted, as the poem when composed, in 1849, dealt only with the idea of planetary evolution. I have endeavoured to give a poetical expression to recent speculations, in particular, to Mr Herbert Spencer's doctrine of transmitted experiences, in the new verses. As regards what is said of the eye, Mr Spencer writes:—
“As soon as there exists a rudimentary eye capable of receiving an impression from a moving object about to strike the organism, and so rendering it possible for the organism to make some adapted movement, there is shown the dawn of actions which we distinguish as intelligent. As soon as the organism, fully sensitive to a jar or vibration propagated through its medium, contracts itself so as to be in less danger from the adjacent source of disturbance, we perceive a nascent form of the life classed as psychical. That is to say, whenever the correspondence exhibits some extension in space or time, some increase of speciality or complexity, we find we have crossed the boundary between physical life and psychical life.” —Principles of Psychology, p. 392.
To the web that we behold;
Ever weaving, ever spinning,
Nature wrought it fold on fold;
Her mysterious shuttle throwing
Thro' the wild and restless loom
Of a chaos, dark or glowing
With old lights or ancient gloom.
Ever fairy form was mated
With the grey old Proteus power,
As, self-sculptured, self-created,
Sleeps in snow the veiled snow-flower.
Worlds would bloom and worlds would fade;
Aweful flowers of growth eternal,
Still they grew and still decayed.
We may dream not of the glory
Of that earlier golden age;
Has inspired no prophet's page.
How through thousand, thousand changes,
Self-compelled, great Nature flees,
How the One through many ranges,
This is all your poet sees.
Such as a clear insight gives,
To a quiet spirit feeding
On the truths that it receives;
Onward, to a later season,
When that golden age has past,
And, revealed by Sense to Reason,
Nature dawns on us at last.
Leave the Universe, the lonely;
Humbler service shall be done,
If we sing, yet sing we only
Of the children of the Sun.
To the East and to the West,
You will see an endless burning,
And a moving without rest.
You shall sit upon the Centre,
You shall have an angel's eyes,
Till your piercing glances enter
That great Burning in the skies.
Room is none for doubt or cavil,
For your vision wanders o'er
In a thousand years or more.
Looking left and looking right,
O'er that mist of silver fire
To direct your aching sight.
Silent is it, burning, breathing,
Like a sea of sun-bright cloud,
Waves in waves are wreathed and wreathing,
A self-convoluted crowd.
See it whirling, calm and steady!
See it surging to and fro!
As the waters gleam and eddy
In some whirlpool chafed to snow.
Denser here and denser there;
Slowly, slowly orbs are growing,
Out of this gross fiery air.
One, that with a sudden motion
Left the old parental fire,
Rolls around this radiant ocean,
Nearer drawn with strange desire.
Others now, with others, sever—
The great Mist itself is one!
You may see them rolling ever,
The bright children of the Sun.
One in Cornwall's rocky clime,
Linked in rivalry sublime,
And the orb that, nearer shining,
The old German sage foresaw,
In the beautiful divining
Of a universal law.
Then a world of wild romances,
With his moons and double ring,
And a lordship that enhances
All the wonders that I sing.
As it travels from the light,
Veiling half its beauty tender,
Through its fifteen years of Night.
Ever, yet, one half is glowing,
Sunward, on its silent way,
And a holy light is flowing
From its fifteen years of Day.
But still nearer and still brighter,
Rolls the kingly orb that bears
The old name that once made lighter
God and goddess of their cares.
Fades and fades for evermore,
Harp and voice alike unable
Jove's Olympus to restore.
Withered lie the Morning's roses,
And the Muses' song is still,
Soft white waists against their will.
Poets' song and prophets' dreaming
Pass, with all that man has done,
But abides the primal gleaming.
Of the children of the Sun.
And with rocks of ruddy stone,
See the star of battles flashing
As he circles near our own.
Earth! my mother, have I won thee?
Clasped thee in my poet-flight?
Oh, a thousand blessings on thee,
Parent of all true delight!
With thy white and purple waters,
Granite rocks and forest trees,
Noble sons and graceful daughters,
And more lovely shapes than these.
Each in all, and all in each,
Tender, lifeless buds, unfolding,
Yearned for life they scarce could reach:
Yearned, and in the blind endeavour,
As the million centuries ranged,
Caught the flame of life, and ever
Changing slowly, surely changed.
Till the germin inorganic,
Fed on sun-mote, cooled by dew,
To a living substance grew:
Feeling, feeling, ever feeling,
Till the feeling grown intense,
From new form new force revealing,
Dawned into a separate sense.
And, with sudden, wondering awe,
Out of ancient darkness lightened,
And became an eye and saw.
So each dainty nervelet quivered
Into music, and the roll
Of the song-waves as they shivered
Raised that music into soul.
That fair Thing which first was man,
Ere man yet had sons and daughters,
Swifter than the breezes ran;
Climbed the palm by lightnings rended,
Snatched the golden-feathered flame,
To his hollow cave descended,
Heir of a Promethean name.
Far-off sounds of mighty winds,
Impresses of rest and motion,
Warmth that soothes and light that blinds,
Dreams of twilight and the moon,
Thoughts of joy and thoughts of wonder,
Fed his brain by night and noon.
Where the world in picture dwells,
Traced in beauty, traced in terror,
In the brain's mysterious cells,
And a million dim impressions,
Secrets strange of time and place,
Are the magical possessions
Of our later happier race.
Sense of brightness not of earth,
Haunts us, with a strange, sweet vision,
As of life before our birth;
'Tis some record, fair and fatal,
Of those old ancestral days,
Some experience, ante-natal,
Of our wild forefathers' ways.
Mother Earth! is set to thine,
Without air and without ocean,
Draws me with her face divine.
Ah! a fairer day approaches!
Out of darkness, out of strife,
Rises a young lovely life!
Soars to meet the golden morning,
Ranges where green meadows lie,
Clothes with glad and bright adorning
The new Eden of the sky.
Wins the daughter of the sun,
For her rainbows and her flowers,
Richer hues than earth hath won.
Drenched in everlasting glory,
Floats the latest-born of light;
Strange and wild must be his story,
Strong must be his children's sight!
From the sun, for ever streaming,
A mysterious radiance flows;
Past the fourth red planet gleaming,
Like a pyramid it shows.
Of the sun and of the spheres;
Such the mystic revelation
Given to the fading years.
With a calm and aweful pleasure,
Look into the lonely sky,
Where the spheres with rhythmic measure
Now approach the sun, now fly.
Never voice is heard, and never
Is their circling journey done;
Silent children of the sun.
Are there friends and lovers there?
Do sweet sisters let their brothers
Braid white roses in their hair?
Have they pains and have they pleasures,
Have they loves and hatreds too?
Have they old poetic measures,
Do they kiss and do they woo?
Have they sped through vale and mountain
Chariots winged with steam and fire?
Does some genius leave the fountain
When their creeds, like ours, expire?
Dwells in secret evermore;
Beauty born of terror only
Lifts to heights unknown before.
Leave the planets to their courses,
The star-children to their fate;
Trust the old majestic forces,
The dread powers of love and hate.
Do you feel that there is terror
In the still, the endless skies?
Are you weary of the error
That within and round you lies?
Noble, doubtless, is the feeling,
But yet nobler to be strong,
To endure and welcome wrong.
Through the spheres and through the ages,
Flows a compensating law;
In the fatal stony pages
Breathes a grace amid the awe.
There is wisdom worth the winning,
There is love that never grieves,
In the web without beginning
That the fair, dread Nature weaves.
PALINGENESIS.
Through the flying dance of Change,
In the silence, in the thunder,
Form must pass and function range.
Nothing that has lived shall perish,
Fading life draws nobler breath;
Powers of dread and mildness cherish
The young germs of life in death.
Nurslings of the cloud and sky,
Rose the graceful generation
Of the Titan ferns on high.
Fairy reed and pine gigantic
Waved where earth's young breezes blew,
Sea-beasts played with gnome-like antic,
Where the lovely sea-flowers grew.
Through the ancient oceans ran,
Ere the earth was fit for man.
From an insect world departed,
Dust-like shapes returned to dust,
Eagle-eyed and lion-hearted,
Rises Paris the August.
From the mother earth have past:
Fabled fauns and fabled graces,
Own your prototypes at last!
Palm and fern that grew colossal,
Beast from field and bird from glen,
Now as dust, and now as fossil,
Meet the wondering eyes of men.
Lies no dead, unmeaning fact,
But eternal revelation,
Endless thought in endless act—
Life that works and pauses never,
Death that passes into life,
Rest that follows motion ever,
Peace that ever follows strife.
Of the roaring sea of time,
Evermore a world emerges,
Solemn, beautiful, sublime.
'Mid the music and the balm,
Rose the dread Olympian's daughter,
Floating on the azure calm.
Evermore the worlds will bloom,
To refute our weak upbraiding,
To throw brightness on the gloom.
Ever the imperfect passes,
But the perfect ever grows;
Forests sink to drear morasses,
Fairer landscapes to disclose.
Of the ancient earth and sky,
Graceful form and person tender,
All have past in silence by.
Man the fairest, man the youngest,
Man the darling of the gods,
With the weakest, with the strongest,
Travels to the still abodes.
To the eternal plan conform,
Fall unquailing, unrepenting,
In the calm and in the storm.
Man, too, with a quiet bearing,
With brave heart and steadfast eye,
Yea, with noble joy, must die.
Has he shared what Nature proffered?
Gladly taken what she gave?
Now the one last gift is offered,
Let him take that gift—the grave.
With a grand renunciation,
Let him leave to earth and sun,
For another generation,
All the good that he hath done.
Never, never can deceive,
Raised above the sphere diurnal,
And too noble, far, to grieve.
Glad that he has been the agent
Of the universal heart,
That in life's majestic pageant
He has played no worthless part.
Shall sustain his human soul,
And a silent strength revealing,
He, a part, shall join the whole.
Through the orb of endless Wonder,
Through the flying dance of Change,
In the silence, in the thunder,
Form shall pass and function range.
GOLDEN COUNSEL.
And prize it for its wisdom's sake:
When truth to melody is wed,
Dear friends! the golden counsel take.
The freeman he who still obeys,
With loyal heart and joyful awe,
The statutes of the ancient days.
Though all with equal rights are born;
One common warp and woof are ours,
Yet various are the garments worn.
Only the sovereign mind is king,
Only the soul that dwells apart
And seeks the root of everything.
Than any that the world hath known,
When men obey and yet are free,
Are loved, and yet can stand alone.
The trees spring up on hill and height,
The planets press toward the sun,
Yet circle round the kinglier light.
To which his being vibrates still,
Shall dwell amid the grace and awe
Of the one lone Eternal Will:
Fair and harmonious, man, though late,
Through far-off winters, unknown springs,
Glad, shall fulfil a nobler fate.
Wherein true service shall be done;
Men shall be loyal, wise, and free,
And serve the Lone the Only One.
And tell thy want, and by the wise
Be into noble action brought,
And breathe the air of purer skies.
Than raise the low to be thy peers;
Love is the only golden crown
That will not tarnish with the years.
And days of happier work begin,
When love and toil shall man befriend,
And help to free the world from sin.
Shall the pale scholar draw new strength,
Till hands that shape and hearts that dare
Shall join for noble ends at length:
Shall hear his axe delighted ring,
Feel pleasure rippling through his blood,
While in his verse his work shall sing.
Oh, hear him for his wisdom's sake!
When truth to melody is wed,
Dear friends! the golden counsel take.
NEMESIS.
The gods will vindicate their own;
All that we know and are is changed,
And Death remains alone.
By sin and suffering do grow strong;
Delight to dole is near of kin,
Right blossoms out of wrong.
We dare not see Truth's dazzling face,
But yet our heart has understood,
Has felt her royal grace.
Who dwells with Beauty dwells with Truth;
Still the old thoughts return to man,
The soul is still a youth.
The moon still lifts the wave on high,
Man still is man: then wherefore fear?
Believe, live, love, and die.
Nor question why thou draw'st thy breath.
Believe and act; so, reconciled
To life—resigned to death.
THE GOOD LORD JAMES.
Be the fiery heart controlled;
In the clear blue days of life,
In the dark days, halt and hold.
Willing to abide thy time;
Let another win the day,
Wait,—forbearance is sublime.
Legend of the Good Lord James,
How he checked the overbold,
How he gave them worthier aims.
Randolph, on a snow-white horse,
Led a band too proud to yield
To a larger, mightier force.
But he found the foe too strong;
Then to bring his rival aid
Marched the Good Lord James along.
But he hears the deadly shock,
And they stand upon the plain
Calm and steady as a rock.
In a broken tide fall back,
And a feeling great and grave
Turns the Douglas from his track.
Gently spoke the gentle heart;
“Nobly has the game been played,
Patiently must we depart.
All the glory they have won;
Lessen not by needless care
The great deed that they have done.”
Be the fiery heart controlled;
In the clear blue days of life,
In the dark days, halt and hold.
UNA.
Was it noble, was it well?
Thou hast caused me deeper woe
Than my words shall ever tell.
Triumph o'er a maiden's pride?
Was it right or wise to see
Feelings that a maid should hide?
I will not deny the fact;
Grieve I must that thou hast proved
Worthless both in heart and act.
Longer than a maiden should,
Sad it is indeed to leave
One I loved and one that wooed.
Wear my robes of maiden snow,
Give thee neither smile nor frown,
Calmly, mildly, bid thee go.
Still a spotless heart is mine;
Go, sir, I can pardon thee—
May a wiser life be thine.
OLD FEELINGS.
A woman's voice that slowly read,
How 'twixt two shadowy mountains sped
Four coloured steeds, four chariots whirred.
Written in 1840, this poem expressed my sympathy with the ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-sheltered industrial population of our own country before the repeal of the Corn Laws. It appeared in some newspaper, and was noticed, I think, by the London Spectator. A Conservative friend, ignorant of the authorship, attributed it to an “inspired weaver.” When in 1843 I commenced my ministrations among the poor of an agricultural parish in the West of England, seven or eight shillings a week was the usual remuneration received by a labouring man.
On the white casement-ledge again;
My heart beat high with joyful pain
On that strange oracle to look.
The staircase in that large old house,
And still and timorous as a mouse,
I sat and made that book my friend.
The first sweet woman, first fair man;
I saw how morning light began,
How faded, over Paradise.
I saw the mother and the child
Of Oriental vision wild,
Laugh by the well for utter joy.
A traveller to the Syrian land,
And in the lonely evening stand
An exile weary and forlorn.
His sunken head upon a stone,
And while he slumbered, still and lone,
A dream fell on him fair as day.
From earth to heaven among the stars,
And up and down its gleaming bars
Trod stately angels, without speech.
Dark gorgeous women, turbaned men,
White tents, like ships, in plain and glen,
Slaves, palm-trees, camels, pearls, and gold.
And God seemed with me all day long;
Joy murmured a sweet undersong,
I talked with angels, with them fed.
There was a skylight arched above,
And the blue heaven looked through like love,
Softening and colouring mortal gloom.
Yet sometimes left my book to run
And blow bright bubbles in the sun;
In after-life we do the same!
That I regret that perished time,
That I recall my golden prime
With beating heart and blushing cheek.
Glad to resign each rainbow sham;
But still, remembering what I am,
I praise my sweet and saintly youth.
My joy and wonder were so strong,
So rare and delicate a song
Young Life was singing in mine ear!
Up to that old and faded room,
Where feelings like fresh roses bloom
Over the grave of that fair time.
AQUINAS.
The story on which this poem is founded is well known. It is said that the great scholastic, touched with pity at the thought of the doom which awaited the chief of the fallen angels, broke forth into prayer on his behalf. This poem was quoted by Mr Holyoake many years ago in his controversy with Mr Brewin Grant. The Rev. Mr Molesworth, in a “History of our Own Times,” highly commended by Mr Bright, thus records his impression of Mr Holyoake's services:—
“The success of Secularism was due, in no small degree, to the qualities of Mr Holyoake, who had assiduously cultivated great natural gifts, who delivered his opinions with calm, quiet, and persuasive earnestness, and had won the favourable attention of the working classes by the enlightened interest he had on many occasions taken in their welfare, and the thorough mastery he had displayed of many social problems in the solution of which they were deeply interested.”
Compressed he sat and spake no word,
As still as any man of stone,
In streets where never voice is heard;
With massive front and air antique
He sat, did neither move nor speak,
For thought like his seemed words too weak.
From sunrise till the sun went out,
Had sat alone that man of grey,
That marble man, hard crampt by doubt;
Some kingly problem had he found,
Some new belief not wholly sound,
Some hope that overleapt all bound.
No answer to his question came,
And now he rose with hollow groan,
And eyes that seemed half love, half flame.
Pale marble face, half smile, half frown,
Brown shadow else 'mid shadows brown.
Thy Morning-star, with endless moan,
Should lift his fading orbs to thee,
And thou be happy on thy throne.
It were not kind, nay, Father, nay,
It were not just, O God, I say:
Pray for thy Lost One, Jesus, pray!
While the fair angels howl below?
All holy voices would be dumb,
All loving eyes would fill with woe,
To think the lordliest Peer of Heaven,
The starry leader of the Seven,
Would never, never, be forgiven.
O Word that made thine angel speak!
Lord! let thy pitying tears have way;
Dear God! not man alone is weak.
What is created still must fall,
And fairest still we frailest call;
Will not Christ's blood avail for all?
O Father! think upon thy child;
And look upon that dungeon wild.
O God! O Jesus! see how dark
That den of woe! O Saviour! mark
How angels weep, how groan! Hark, hark!
Restore him to his throne again.
Oh, open wide that dismal door
Which presses on the souls in pain;
So men and angels all will say,
‘Our God is good.’ Oh, day by day,
Pray for thy Lost One, Jesus, pray!”
Alone with black and dreadful Night,
Until before his pleading moan
The darkness ebbed away in light.
Then rose the saint, and “God,” said he,
“If darkness change to light with thee,
The Devil may yet an angel be.”
THE SHORELESS SEA.
But the gleaming shore approaches never;
Waves on waves still rise, and waves still flee,
But the sky's blue circle fades for ever.
You can never, never cross its waters,
But that Man is man for evermore,
Murmurs from earth's thousand sons and daughters
Nurslings of the heavens that hang above us?
When we pass with passing hours away,
Live we not in tender hearts that love us?
All its fairest, all its best revealings,
Visit pure and gentle souls unsought;
Heaven is made of holy, happy feelings.
But eat gladly if your bread come daily;
Patience be your prayer when hard-bested—
Sufferers pray who bear their sufferings gaily.
Cast away all fear and craven sadness;
Love and courage, friends, are all ye need;
True religion is eternal gladness.
SUNRISE.
Blot the clear blue weather;
True that lips that once have kist
Come no more together.
Evil often follows;
True that green leaves quit the wood,
Summers lose their swallows.
True that, sad and lonely,
Woman through her prison grates
Sees her tyrant only.
And the poor desire
Food still from the rich man's door,
Fuel from his fire.
There are none to guide us,
Gone the grand primæval powers!
Selfish aims divide us.
I would not deplore it.
If an Eden fade from view,
Time may yet restore it.
But it moves me never;
For the Good, the Good, it grows,
Buds and blossoms ever.
But fresh Springs are coming,
Blither birds are on the wing,
Brighter bees are humming.
Mourned my hopes departed,
Dreamed my golden dream, and still
Am not broken-hearted.
Faith will never leave us;
Light still falls where falls the shade,
Nor can Truth deceive us;
Brothers! fear it never.
Darkness smiles, and wrong grows right—
Let in light for ever.
Joy at once and duty,
Men in common things shall see
Goodness, truth, and beauty:
Hear it, lords and ladies—
We shall love and praise the things
That are down in Hades.
For my heart rejoices,
When sweet looks and lips I see,
When I hear sweet voices.
Singing to the hours,
While the stars are bright above,
And below the flowers.
Goldcups in the meadows,
Branches waving in the breeze,
On the grass their shadows:
Cuckoos shouting o'er us,
Clouds, in white or crimson hood,
Pacing slow before us:
Could not heal his sorrow?
Welcome this sweet sunset-bliss!
Sunrise comes to-morrow.
MAY.
Flows through the heart of the resplendent year;
The mighty sea of life is now at flood,
And Summer's thousand voices murmur near.
Mounts like a kindred fire that hails the day;
The wandering music haunts the woods and streams,
And gladdens the full heart of happy May.
Hid in dim leaves where whispering waters fall,
And sought, but still unseen, the schoolboy's bird,
From bowers, long-lost, renews her echoing call.
Her stately trumpet through our desert life;
On the dark cloud Peace hangs her fading bow,
And, as it fades, Love comes to soften strife.
Returns the toil that heaps the year with gold—
The thought that with the gladness blends a gloom,
When once the fairy tale of youth is told!
I stand and dream, as winds and waters chime,
Of nobler summers, of an ampler day,
And praise the splendid promise of man's prime.
Taught that the flower must fade ere fruits can shine,
I hear glad harvests rustle ere they grow,
Bless my wild hope and call my dream divine.
Reverberations | ||