 | Lyrical Poems |  |
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Book Third
113
THE ANCIENT AND MODERN MUSES
The monument outlasting bronze
Was promised well by bards of old;
The lucid outline of their lay
Its sweet precision keeps for aye,
Fix'd in the ductile language-gold.
Was promised well by bards of old;
The lucid outline of their lay
Its sweet precision keeps for aye,
Fix'd in the ductile language-gold.
But we who work with smaller skill,
And less refined material mould,
—This close conglomerate English speech,
Bequest of many tribes, that each
Brought here and wrought at from of old,
And less refined material mould,
—This close conglomerate English speech,
Bequest of many tribes, that each
Brought here and wrought at from of old,
Residuum rough, eked out by rhyme
Barbarian ornament uncouth,—
Our hope is less to last through Art
Than deeper searching of the heart,
Than broader range of utter'd truth.
Barbarian ornament uncouth,—
Our hope is less to last through Art
Than deeper searching of the heart,
Than broader range of utter'd truth.
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One keen-cut group, one deed or aim
Athenian Sophocles could show,
And rest content:—but Shakespeare's stage
Must hold the glass to every age,—
A thousand forms and passions glow
Athenian Sophocles could show,
And rest content:—but Shakespeare's stage
Must hold the glass to every age,—
A thousand forms and passions glow
Upon the world-wide canvass. So
With larger scope our art we ply;
And if the crown be harder won,
Diviner rays around it run,
With strains of fuller harmony.
With larger scope our art we ply;
And if the crown be harder won,
Diviner rays around it run,
With strains of fuller harmony.
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SURSUM
On the gray granite spire
Alone with the sharp air, and glancing skies,
The callow bird unfilm'd his fervent eyes,
And, like a cry, sent a moist glance of fire
Onward and upward.
Alone with the sharp air, and glancing skies,
The callow bird unfilm'd his fervent eyes,
And, like a cry, sent a moist glance of fire
Onward and upward.
Too slight those untried wings
To buoy his soaring from the nest as yet:
But on the zenith sun his sight is set,
And miles above the earth his heart he flings,
Onward and upward.
To buoy his soaring from the nest as yet:
But on the zenith sun his sight is set,
And miles above the earth his heart he flings,
Onward and upward.
His dizzy birthplace height
To the young eagle heart seems all too low
To swoop from, on the vale, where feeding go
Dim cattle-specks: his home is with the light.
Onward and upward.
To the young eagle heart seems all too low
To swoop from, on the vale, where feeding go
Dim cattle-specks: his home is with the light.
Onward and upward.
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Hour of heroic dreams!
—But when the day of might has come at length,
And the brown wings thrill with elastic strength,
Forth to the golden goal of youth he streams,
Onward and upward!
—But when the day of might has come at length,
And the brown wings thrill with elastic strength,
Forth to the golden goal of youth he streams,
Onward and upward!
Then, without haste or stay,
Alone, unfriended, on that silent height,
Through the keen torrents of eye-searing light,
Through realms of blazing frost, he beats his way
Onward and upward.
Alone, unfriended, on that silent height,
Through the keen torrents of eye-searing light,
Through realms of blazing frost, he beats his way
Onward and upward.
And the great hills afar
Melt down beneath the clouds, one misty plain;
Whence, through the rift, with eyes that skyward strain,
The shepherd sees him moving like a star
Onward and upward.
Melt down beneath the clouds, one misty plain;
Whence, through the rift, with eyes that skyward strain,
The shepherd sees him moving like a star
Onward and upward.
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TO A PAINTER
Modern Art falls into three periods, or ‘moments’:—The strictly ‘mediaeval,’ when the object was almost wholly to aid the religious movement which followed the definite establishment of European civilization after the Norman conquests in France, England, and Italy:—The ‘renaisance,’ when the object was partly to replace the Christian cycle of representations by motives taken from Graeco-Roman life and legend, partly to bring landscape and common life within the range of art:—The ‘modern’ (due mainly to the great English painters of the eighteenth century), when the tentative attempts of the previous age were systematized in the distinct aim to extend painting to all subjects, whether belonging to the sphere of man or of nature, which can be represented by the limited powers of Art. It appears obvious that (however the balance may lie between the relative perfection reached in each period), the latter, modern, or English, idea is the only true conception of Art: which, it will be observed, embraces all the preceding aims, while it refuses to assign an exclusive pre-eminence to any of them. Readers who may be interested in the view here set forth will find it treated with more detail in the Quarterly Review for April, 1870; article upon Sir C. Eastlake.
Friend, in whom ancient stems of note,
The Mowbray and Fitzalan, meet,
Who work'd their wills and held their own
Since first the shatter'd English throne
Gave the stern Norman surer seat;
The Mowbray and Fitzalan, meet,
Who work'd their wills and held their own
Since first the shatter'd English throne
Gave the stern Norman surer seat;
Wild days of castle-buttress'd crag,
And long-roof'd abbey in the dell,
Blue flash of steel-clad war, with gay
Pennons toss'd foam-like o'er the fray,
And woodland visionary cell,
And long-roof'd abbey in the dell,
Blue flash of steel-clad war, with gay
Pennons toss'd foam-like o'er the fray,
And woodland visionary cell,
And the fresh face of holy Art:—
—Another task our times pursue
Than Europe in her youthful age!
Yet from the past our heritage
Descends; we are not wholly new.
—Another task our times pursue
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Yet from the past our heritage
Descends; we are not wholly new.
Nature and Man, two streams from one,
Feed us with knowledge; and her powers
Pass into us, and brace the mind:
Yet most we owe to what our kind
Has done or thought in earlier hours;
Feed us with knowledge; and her powers
Pass into us, and brace the mind:
Yet most we owe to what our kind
Has done or thought in earlier hours;
For heart to heart speaks closest, best.
Nor has man higher task than he
Who from old treasures flung away
Creates new beauty for to-day,
And heirlooms for the far to-be.
Nor has man higher task than he
Who from old treasures flung away
Creates new beauty for to-day,
And heirlooms for the far to-be.
Then at thy noble function toil,
Thine own, not what the ancients tried;
Let the pure form in clearness grow,
The happy tints contrasting glow,
Till all be fix'd and glorified.
Thine own, not what the ancients tried;
Let the pure form in clearness grow,
The happy tints contrasting glow,
Till all be fix'd and glorified.
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A narrow field the men of old
With heaven's own hues and forms inlaid;
Their's, the strict end to teach the soul:
Our's, free from outward-set control,
To face all nature, unafraid.
With heaven's own hues and forms inlaid;
Their's, the strict end to teach the soul:
Our's, free from outward-set control,
To face all nature, unafraid.
That partial range of perfect skill
Enlarge to fit our wider aim,
And through the pleased eye touch the heart;
Scaling the hard-won heights of Art,
And adding honour to thy name.
Enlarge to fit our wider aim,
And through the pleased eye touch the heart;
Scaling the hard-won heights of Art,
And adding honour to thy name.
120
PRO MORTUIS
Almost all modern English poets havesuffered more or less injury from neglect of that decent reverence for the dead which
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What should a man desire to leave?
A flawless work; a noble life:
Some music harmonized from strife,
Some finish'd thing, ere the slack hands at eve
Drop, should be his to leave.
A flawless work; a noble life:
Some music harmonized from strife,
Some finish'd thing, ere the slack hands at eve
Drop, should be his to leave.
One gem of song, defying age;
A hard-won fight; a well-work'd farm;
A law, no guile can twist to harm;
Some tale as our lost Thackeray's, bright, or sage
As the just Hallam's page.
A hard-won fight; a well-work'd farm;
A law, no guile can twist to harm;
Some tale as our lost Thackeray's, bright, or sage
As the just Hallam's page.
Or, in life's homeliest, meanest spot,
With temperate step from year to year
To move within his little sphere,
Leaving a pure name to be known, or not,—
This is a true man's lot.
With temperate step from year to year
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Leaving a pure name to be known, or not,—
This is a true man's lot.
He dies: he leaves the deed or name,
A gift for ever to his land,
In trust to Friendship's prudent hand,
Bound 'gainst all adverse shocks to guard his fame,
Or to the world proclaim.
A gift for ever to his land,
In trust to Friendship's prudent hand,
Bound 'gainst all adverse shocks to guard his fame,
Or to the world proclaim.
But the imperfect thing, or thought,—
The crudities and yeast of youth,
The dubious doubt, the twilight truth,
The work that for the passing day was wrought,
The schemes that came to nought,
The crudities and yeast of youth,
The dubious doubt, the twilight truth,
The work that for the passing day was wrought,
The schemes that came to nought,
The sketch half-way 'twixt verse and prose
That mocks the finish'd picture true,
The quarry whence the statue grew,
The scaffolding 'neath which the palace rose,
The vague abortive throes
That mocks the finish'd picture true,
The quarry whence the statue grew,
The scaffolding 'neath which the palace rose,
The vague abortive throes
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And fever-fits of joy or gloom:—
In kind oblivion let them be!
Nor has the dead worse foe than he
Who rakes these sweepings of the artist's room,
And piles them on his tomb.
In kind oblivion let them be!
Nor has the dead worse foe than he
Who rakes these sweepings of the artist's room,
And piles them on his tomb.
Ah, 'tis but little that the best,
Frail children of a fleeting hour,
Can leave of perfect fruit or flower!
Ah, let all else be graciously supprest
When man lies down to rest!
Frail children of a fleeting hour,
Can leave of perfect fruit or flower!
Ah, let all else be graciously supprest
When man lies down to rest!
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TWO GRAVES AT ROME
Saints and Caesars are here,
Bishops of Rome and the world,
Rulers by love and by fear:—
Those who in purple and gold
Prank'd and lorded it here;
Those who in sackcloth and shame
Elected their limbs to enfold,
Scornful of pleasure and fame:
—Ah, they had their reward!
There is something else that I seek
On the flowery sward,
By the pile of Cestius, here!
Bishops of Rome and the world,
Rulers by love and by fear:—
Those who in purple and gold
Prank'd and lorded it here;
Those who in sackcloth and shame
Elected their limbs to enfold,
Scornful of pleasure and fame:
—Ah, they had their reward!
There is something else that I seek
On the flowery sward,
By the pile of Cestius, here!
Is it but two stones like the rest
Fondly preserving a name
Elsewhere unheeded of fame,
Set here by love, and left
To gather gray, like the rest?
—Psha! 'Tis the fate of man!
We are wretched, we are bereft
Of all that gave life its plan,
The sunbeam and treasure of yore;
We lay it in earth, and are gone;
Then, as before,
We laugh and forget, like the rest.
Fondly preserving a name
Elsewhere unheeded of fame,
Set here by love, and left
To gather gray, like the rest?
—Psha! 'Tis the fate of man!
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Of all that gave life its plan,
The sunbeam and treasure of yore;
We lay it in earth, and are gone;
Then, as before,
We laugh and forget, like the rest.
A transient name on the stone,
A transient love in the heart;
We have our day, and are gone:—
—But it is not so with these!
There is life and love in the stone:—
Names of beauty and light
Over all lands and seas
They have gone forth in their might:
Warmer and higher beats
The general heart at the words
Shelley and Keats:—
There is life and love in the stone!
A transient love in the heart;
We have our day, and are gone:—
—But it is not so with these!
There is life and love in the stone:—
Names of beauty and light
Over all lands and seas
They have gone forth in their might:
Warmer and higher beats
The general heart at the words
Shelley and Keats:—
There is life and love in the stone!
He with the gleaming eyes
And glances gentle and wild,
The angel eternal child;
His heart could not throb like ours,
He could not see with our eyes
Dimm'd with the dulness of earth,
Blind with the bondage of hours;
Yet none with diviner mirth
Hail'd what was noble and sweet:
The blood-track'd journey of life,
The way-sore feet
None have watch'd with more human eyes.
And glances gentle and wild,
The angel eternal child;
His heart could not throb like ours,
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Dimm'd with the dulness of earth,
Blind with the bondage of hours;
Yet none with diviner mirth
Hail'd what was noble and sweet:
The blood-track'd journey of life,
The way-sore feet
None have watch'd with more human eyes.
And he who went first to the tomb—
Rejoice, great souls of the dead!
For none in that earlier Rome
Took a bolder and lordlier heart
To the all-receiving tomb:
No richer more equable eye,
No tongue of more musical art
Conversed with the Gods on high,
Among all the minstrels who made
Sweetness 'tween Etna and Alp:
Nor was any laid
With such music and tears in the tomb.
Rejoice, great souls of the dead!
For none in that earlier Rome
Took a bolder and lordlier heart
To the all-receiving tomb:
No richer more equable eye,
No tongue of more musical art
Conversed with the Gods on high,
Among all the minstrels who made
Sweetness 'tween Etna and Alp:
Nor was any laid
With such music and tears in the tomb.
—What seek ye, my comrades, at Rome?
To see and be seen at the gay
Meet on the Appian way,
Or within the tall palace at eve
To dance out your season at Rome?
To muse on the giants of old,
In the Forum at twilight to grieve?
It is more that these ruins enfold!
Warmer and higher beats
The Englishman's heart at the words,
Shelley and Keats!
And here is the heart of our Rome.
To see and be seen at the gay
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Or within the tall palace at eve
To dance out your season at Rome?
To muse on the giants of old,
In the Forum at twilight to grieve?
It is more that these ruins enfold!
Warmer and higher beats
The Englishman's heart at the words,
Shelley and Keats!
And here is the heart of our Rome.
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WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
1845
Gentle and grave, in simple dress,
And features by keen mountain air
Moulded to solemn ruggedness,
The man we came to see sat there:
Not apt for speech, nor quickly stirr'd
Unless when heart to heart replied;
A bearing equally removed
From vain display or sullen pride.
And features by keen mountain air
Moulded to solemn ruggedness,
The man we came to see sat there:
Not apt for speech, nor quickly stirr'd
Unless when heart to heart replied;
A bearing equally removed
From vain display or sullen pride.
The sinewy frame yet spoke of one
Known to the hillsides: on his head
Some five-and-seventy winters gone
Their crown of perfect white had shed:—
As snow-tipp'd summits toward the sun
In calm of lonely radiance press,
Touch'd by the broadening light of death
With a serener pensiveness.
Known to the hillsides: on his head
Some five-and-seventy winters gone
Their crown of perfect white had shed:—
As snow-tipp'd summits toward the sun
In calm of lonely radiance press,
Touch'd by the broadening light of death
With a serener pensiveness.
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O crown of venerable age!
O brighter crown of well-spent years!
The bard, the patriot, and the sage,
The heart that never bow'd to fears!
That was an age of soaring souls;
Yet none with a more liberal scope
Survey'd the sphere of human things;
None with such manliness of hope.
O brighter crown of well-spent years!
The bard, the patriot, and the sage,
The heart that never bow'd to fears!
That was an age of soaring souls;
Yet none with a more liberal scope
Survey'd the sphere of human things;
None with such manliness of hope.
Others, perchance, as keenly felt,
As musically sang as he;
To Nature as devoutly knelt,
Or toil'd to serve humanity:
But none with those ethereal notes,
That star-like sweep of self-control;
The insight into worlds unseen,
The lucid sanity of soul.
As musically sang as he;
To Nature as devoutly knelt,
Or toil'd to serve humanity:
But none with those ethereal notes,
That star-like sweep of self-control;
The insight into worlds unseen,
The lucid sanity of soul.
The fever of our fretful life,
The autumn poison of the air,
The soul with its own self at strife,
He saw and felt, but could not share:
With eye made clear by pureness, pierced
The life of Man and Nature through;
And read the heart of common things,
Till new seem'd old, and old was new.
The autumn poison of the air,
The soul with its own self at strife,
He saw and felt, but could not share:
With eye made clear by pureness, pierced
The life of Man and Nature through;
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Till new seem'd old, and old was new.
To his own self not always just,
Bound in the bonds that all men share,—
Confess the failings as we must,
The lion's mark is always there!
Nor any song so pure, so great,
Since his, who closed the sightless eyes,
Our Homer of the war in Heaven,
To wake in his own Paradise.
Bound in the bonds that all men share,—
Confess the failings as we must,
The lion's mark is always there!
Nor any song so pure, so great,
Since his, who closed the sightless eyes,
Our Homer of the war in Heaven,
To wake in his own Paradise.
—O blaring trumpets of the world!
O glories, in their budding sere!
O flaunting roll of Fame unfurl'd!
Here was the king—the hero here!
It was a strength and joy for life
In that great presence once to be;
That on the boy he gently smiled,
That those white hands were laid on me.
O glories, in their budding sere!
O flaunting roll of Fame unfurl'd!
Here was the king—the hero here!
It was a strength and joy for life
In that great presence once to be;
That on the boy he gently smiled,
That those white hands were laid on me.
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ELEGY IN MEMORY OF PERCY, EIGHTH VISCOUNT STRANGFORD:
Died9th Jan., 1869, aged 43 years
One statesman the less,—one friend the poorer,—
While the year from its cradle comes lusty and gay;
In its strength and its youth we seem'd younger and surer;
Death said ‘Ye are mine!—lo, I call one:—obey!’
While the year from its cradle comes lusty and gay;
In its strength and its youth we seem'd younger and surer;
Death said ‘Ye are mine!—lo, I call one:—obey!’
Could'st thou not take one ripe for the reaping,
Spare to our love the true-hearted and brave;
Lightning of insight, and brightness unsleeping;
Wit ne'er too trenchant, nor wisdom too grave?
Thirty years more, in our blindness we reckon'd,
This heart, all his graces and gifts, were our own:
One came between in a moment and beckon'd,
And he rose in silence and follow'd alone:—
Follow'd alone from the house where we knew him
Into the darkness that eye cannot trace:—
Thither the heart will oft strain and pursue him,
Glimpses and hints of a vanishing face.
Spare to our love the true-hearted and brave;
Lightning of insight, and brightness unsleeping;
Wit ne'er too trenchant, nor wisdom too grave?
Thirty years more, in our blindness we reckon'd,
This heart, all his graces and gifts, were our own:
One came between in a moment and beckon'd,
And he rose in silence and follow'd alone:—
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Into the darkness that eye cannot trace:—
Thither the heart will oft strain and pursue him,
Glimpses and hints of a vanishing face.
Thirty years more, should the friends who deplore him
Meet, as in days without foresight or fear,
Vacant one place in our hearts will be for him,
One voice be listen'd for . . . Ah! he is here!
—Nevermore, O, nevermore!—and the gladness
Drops from our eyes and our voices away;
Hopes that are memories; smiles that are sadness;—
Love should be never, or be Love for aye!
Meet, as in days without foresight or fear,
Vacant one place in our hearts will be for him,
One voice be listen'd for . . . Ah! he is here!
—Nevermore, O, nevermore!—and the gladness
Drops from our eyes and our voices away;
Hopes that are memories; smiles that are sadness;—
Love should be never, or be Love for aye!
Youth with his radiance leaves us, and slowly
Shadow-wing'd night hovers nearer above;
Light after light from our heaven fades wholly,
Blankness where shone the star-faces of love.
Oft the dear image arising before us
Deep in our hearts will rekindle the pain;
Oft will his presence in secret be o'er us,
We who his like will not look on again.
Shadow-wing'd night hovers nearer above;
Light after light from our heaven fades wholly,
Blankness where shone the star-faces of love.
Oft the dear image arising before us
Deep in our hearts will rekindle the pain;
Oft will his presence in secret be o'er us,
We who his like will not look on again.
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World that in blatant success has its pleasure,
Little it knows of the soul that was here;
Judgment with learning allied in full measure,
Mind of the statesman, and eye of the seer.
On our horizon as danger is growing
‘Were he but here!’ the heart whispers, and sighs:
Now, where earth's knowledge seems hardly worth knowing,
He may not teach the new lore of the skies.
Faithful and true!—Affection unsleeping,
Wisdom mature, ere thy summer had flown;—
Ah, in thy youth thou wast ripe for the reaping;
He who had lent thee, now calls back his own.
Little it knows of the soul that was here;
Judgment with learning allied in full measure,
Mind of the statesman, and eye of the seer.
On our horizon as danger is growing
‘Were he but here!’ the heart whispers, and sighs:
Now, where earth's knowledge seems hardly worth knowing,
He may not teach the new lore of the skies.
Faithful and true!—Affection unsleeping,
Wisdom mature, ere thy summer had flown;—
Ah, in thy youth thou wast ripe for the reaping;
He who had lent thee, now calls back his own.
Tender and true!—One look more as we leave thee
Silent and cold in the bloom of thy day;
One more adieu ere the Master receive thee;—
Love that has once been, is Love for aye.
Silent and cold in the bloom of thy day;
One more adieu ere the Master receive thee;—
Love that has once been, is Love for aye.
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MEMORIAL VERSES ON CHARLES DICKENS
June 1, 1870
1
They arose and heard he was gone;And a thrill of electric pain
Smote through each English breast,
World-wide from East to West,
That we never should hear him again.
2
And wherever the English speech,Binding the nations in one,
Like a river round earth has roll'd
Its girdle of stubborn gold,
A splendour fell from the sun.
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3
The spell that on millions at onceWork'd laughter and tears at his will:
The glory of genius that flamed
O'er the landscape his fancy had framed;
The voice of the charmer is still.
4
The flame of that generous wrathWhich wither'd the oppressor is cold,—
The champion of all who endure,
The voice of the voiceless and poor,
The heart that could never grow old.
5
Yes! From the whole world's skyWe knew 'twas a star that had fled
When the lightnings that circle the earth,
Mute flashes of sadness and mirth,
Told East and West, ‘He is dead.’
6
—How should we measure it, Fame?How balance diffusion and weight?
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Will re-echo the shout of to-day,
‘Great in the ranks of the great’?
7
—Twice in our century, twiceOnly, that cry has been heard
By a nation's unison swell'd,
‘All bosoms his magic has held,
And his name is a household word.’
8
Our fathers that unison heardIn youth, as we hear it now,
When, toward his own country-side led
By the spirit within him, the head
Of ‘the whole world's darling’ lay low.
9
And loud-tongued dispensers of fame,Judges with envy-dim eye,
Said ‘The tale and the legend were gay
Manufactures well wrought for the day,
And his spell with the day would go by.’
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10
Not so! The wild Past that he loved,The heroic adventure and strife,
Lake, glen, that we never may see,
In the light of that witchery,
Glow yet with the fulness of life.
11
Lord of Romance and the North!Whilst Melrose in twilight is gray,
Whilst Eildon the triple pride
Of his crest lifts over Strathclyde,
In the hearts of men is thy sway.
12
There only is durable reign!—Auroral flashings of wit;
Touches of tragical might
Fraught with such strange delight
That we cannot fathom it;
13
Wonders of exquisite art;Beauty that earth cannot give;
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Caves of the soul to the day;
—In their magic awhile we may live.
14
But the fame that the whole world's heartIn its golden girdle shall bind,
Must have root in a richer soil,
And its lamp be made bright with the oil
Of love for all humankind.
15
And the work must not only be true,But intense with the passion of truth,
The hatred of coldness and lie;
To the nobler nature must cry,
That shall merit eternal youth.
16
And the verse that will never grow oldWith a life-blood current must roll,
In the music of heaven have part,—
The cry of the heart to the heart
And the song of the soul in the soul.
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ELIZABETH AT TILBURY
The famous Review at Tilbury appears to have followed the defeat of the Armada. See Mr. Motley's excellent account in the History of the United Netherlands:—with his earlier work, by far the most valuable literary gift which England has yet received from America.
Autumn, 1588
Let them come, come never so proudly,
O'er the green waves in tall array;
Silver clarions menacing loudly,
‘All the Spains’ on their pennons gay;
High on deck of their gilded galleys
Our light sailers they scorn below:—
We will scatter them, plague, and shatter them,
Till their flag hauls down to the foe!
For our oath we swear
By the name we bear
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
O'er the green waves in tall array;
Silver clarions menacing loudly,
‘All the Spains’ on their pennons gay;
High on deck of their gilded galleys
Our light sailers they scorn below:—
We will scatter them, plague, and shatter them,
Till their flag hauls down to the foe!
For our oath we swear
By the name we bear
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
Sidonía, Recalde, and Leyva
Watch from their bulwarks in swarthy scorn;
Lords and Princes by Philip's favour:
We by birthright are noble born!
Freemen born of the blood of freemen,
Sons of Cressy and Flodden are we:
We shall sunder them, fire, and plunder them,—
English boats on the English sea!
And our oath we swear
By the name we bear
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
Watch from their bulwarks in swarthy scorn;
Lords and Princes by Philip's favour:
We by birthright are noble born!
139
Sons of Cressy and Flodden are we:
We shall sunder them, fire, and plunder them,—
English boats on the English sea!
And our oath we swear
By the name we bear
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
Drake and Frobisher, Hawkins and Howard,
Raleigh, Cavendish, Cecil and Brooke,
Hang like wasps by the flagships tower'd,
Sting their way through the thrice-piled oak:—
Let them range their seven-mile crescent,
Giant galleons, canvass wide!
Ours will harry them, board, and carry them,
Plucking the plumes of the Spanish pride.
For our oath we swear
By the name we bear,
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
Raleigh, Cavendish, Cecil and Brooke,
Hang like wasps by the flagships tower'd,
Sting their way through the thrice-piled oak:—
Let them range their seven-mile crescent,
Giant galleons, canvass wide!
Ours will harry them, board, and carry them,
Plucking the plumes of the Spanish pride.
For our oath we swear
By the name we bear,
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
140
—Has God risen in wrath and scatter'd,
Have his tempests smote them in scorn?
Past the Orcades, dumb and tatter'd,
'Mong sea-beasts do they drift forlorn?
We were as lions hungry for battle;
God has made our battle his own!
God has scatter'd them, sunk, and shatter'd them:
Give the glory to him alone!
While our oath we swear
By the name we bear,
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
Have his tempests smote them in scorn?
Past the Orcades, dumb and tatter'd,
'Mong sea-beasts do they drift forlorn?
We were as lions hungry for battle;
God has made our battle his own!
God has scatter'd them, sunk, and shatter'd them:
Give the glory to him alone!
While our oath we swear
By the name we bear,
By England's Queen and England free and fair,—
Her's ever and her's still, come life, come death:
God save Elizabeth!
141
MENTANA
Nov., 1867
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Field where none died in vain!
Beardless boys and famine-gaunt
Corpses along the plain,—
Did not enough of ye die
On the field where none died in vain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Field where none died in vain!
Beardless boys and famine-gaunt
Corpses along the plain,—
Did not enough of ye die
On the field where none died in vain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Field where death was victory,
Blood that gush'd not in vain
When the deadly rifle of France
Crash'd with its iron rain;
'Neath the pine-dotted slopes of Tivoli
The triumph is with the slain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Blood that gush'd not in vain
When the deadly rifle of France
Crash'd with its iron rain;
'Neath the pine-dotted slopes of Tivoli
The triumph is with the slain,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
142
Noble error, if error,
To make their fatherland one!—
Through her five-and-twenty centuries
Rome counts no worthier son,
Than he who led them to die
Where death and triumph were one,—
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
To make their fatherland one!—
Through her five-and-twenty centuries
Rome counts no worthier son,
Than he who led them to die
Where death and triumph were one,—
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
For the blood of Mentana
To the blood of Thermopylae calls,
And the blood of Marathon answers,
Not in vain, not in vain he falls
Who stakes his life on the die
When the voice of Freedom calls,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
To the blood of Thermopylae calls,
And the blood of Marathon answers,
Not in vain, not in vain he falls
Who stakes his life on the die
When the voice of Freedom calls,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Passionate instinct for truth,
Children and heroes in one,
Reason higher than reason,
Light from beyond the sun:—
Did not enough of ye die
To knit your country in one,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?
Children and heroes in one,
Reason higher than reason,
Light from beyond the sun:—
Did not enough of ye die
To knit your country in one,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?
143
Pity not them as they lie
Crown'd with the fortunate dead;
Pity not them, but the foe,—
For the precious drops that they shed
Sow but the seed of victory!
Pity the foe, not the dead,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Crown'd with the fortunate dead;
Pity not them, but the foe,—
For the precious drops that they shed
Sow but the seed of victory!
Pity the foe, not the dead,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Yours, to be gallant and true,
Yours, for your country to die,
Yours to be Men of Mentana,
Highly esteem'd 'mong the high:—
Theirs, to look on at your victory!
For did not enough of ye die,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?
Yours, for your country to die,
Yours to be Men of Mentana,
Highly esteem'd 'mong the high:—
Theirs, to look on at your victory!
For did not enough of ye die,
Lion-hearts of young Italy?
Brief the day of November,
Long to the remnant that fought;
Boys too young for the battle,
Naked and hunger-distraught:—
No, not too young to die,
Falling where each one fought,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
Long to the remnant that fought;
Boys too young for the battle,
Naked and hunger-distraught:—
No, not too young to die,
Falling where each one fought,
Lion-hearts of young Italy!
144
THE NOBLE REVENGE
ODE TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
1869
O bright and single moment, when
The clouds above us part, and men
Behold some golden goal on high
Shine graspable within the farthest sky:—
Onward and upward! Then they close
On the dull laggard's eye, and bar advance,
And bid him doze:—
His chance he had, and lost it:
But others have their chance!
The clouds above us part, and men
Behold some golden goal on high
Shine graspable within the farthest sky:—
Onward and upward! Then they close
On the dull laggard's eye, and bar advance,
And bid him doze:—
His chance he had, and lost it:
But others have their chance!
It may be, in some doubtful fight,
Courage to see and choose the right;
Or, leading some assault past hope,
To tread with even step the gun-crown'd slope;
Or 'gainst some giant falsehood's head
Before the whole world to stand forth, alone,
And strike it dead;
Or, for some wrong wrought on us,
By pardon to atone.
Courage to see and choose the right;
Or, leading some assault past hope,
145
Or 'gainst some giant falsehood's head
Before the whole world to stand forth, alone,
And strike it dead;
Or, for some wrong wrought on us,
By pardon to atone.
And e'en in England's later years
Of unstrung nerves and foolish fears,
While hoarse-lung'd prophets trade in woe,
And grumblers echo with It must be so,
And every grinning gossip's glass
Perks up for spots, not light, the sun to view,
—O'er that mean mass
Some few have dared to tower,
And greatly hope and do.
Of unstrung nerves and foolish fears,
While hoarse-lung'd prophets trade in woe,
And grumblers echo with It must be so,
And every grinning gossip's glass
Perks up for spots, not light, the sun to view,
—O'er that mean mass
Some few have dared to tower,
And greatly hope and do.
And often so
It is with nations; As when one fair land
Saw, North and South, her bright-arm'd myriads stand,
Saw herself rent in twain by matricidal hand:
It is with nations; As when one fair land
Saw, North and South, her bright-arm'd myriads stand,
Saw herself rent in twain by matricidal hand:
146
Though both were gallant, though
High deeds on either side were wrought,
Yet one for self, and one for mankind fought:
And when war's lurid cloud
From the clear skies had pass'd,
The golden eye of life
From heaven shone bold and free
On white-robed Victory,
And the Right won at last.
High deeds on either side were wrought,
Yet one for self, and one for mankind fought:
And when war's lurid cloud
From the clear skies had pass'd,
The golden eye of life
From heaven shone bold and free
On white-robed Victory,
And the Right won at last.
—But she, the mother-land, that erst
Those swarms in her full hive had nursed,
Watch'd, sneering, the enormous fight,
Or wish'd the drones success, with blinded spite,
Or hail'd with jealous pettiness
Each bloody field that drank her rivals' strength
And left them less;
Till, in the cause that triumph'd,
She acquiesced at length.
Those swarms in her full hive had nursed,
Watch'd, sneering, the enormous fight,
Or wish'd the drones success, with blinded spite,
Or hail'd with jealous pettiness
Each bloody field that drank her rivals' strength
And left them less;
Till, in the cause that triumph'd,
She acquiesced at length.
So most who wrote, and most who spoke:—
But underneath that servile yoke
The dumb, deep-beating, genuine heart
Of England would not crouch, but smiled apart,
Knowing the Right at last must be:—
Nor waver'd in her faith while the long march
Swept towards the sea;
Nor when fair Freedom's martyr,
The headstone of your arch
But underneath that servile yoke
147
Of England would not crouch, but smiled apart,
Knowing the Right at last must be:—
Nor waver'd in her faith while the long march
Swept towards the sea;
Nor when fair Freedom's martyr,
The headstone of your arch
Fell, for his work below was done:
—England has no nobler son!
Now, by his blood, and by his name,
She calls you to be worthy of your fame:
Another trial-hour is now;
Now o'er the main she looks with eager glance
And bended brow:—
Our chance we had, and lost it!
But you have yet your chance!
—England has no nobler son!
Now, by his blood, and by his name,
She calls you to be worthy of your fame:
Another trial-hour is now;
Now o'er the main she looks with eager glance
And bended brow:—
Our chance we had, and lost it!
But you have yet your chance!
O men who won!
O other larger England, saved, and free
Forget the error past, past jealousy!
With your true blood our true blood beats across the sea.
Let what is done, be done;
The two great hearts in one unite;
Revenge our blindness by your clearer sight.
Victors in freedom's fight,
Another conflict see,
An upward-flashing path
To win a new renown,—
Crown'd with the greater crown
Of magnanimity!
O other larger England, saved, and free
Forget the error past, past jealousy!
With your true blood our true blood beats across the sea.
148
The two great hearts in one unite;
Revenge our blindness by your clearer sight.
Victors in freedom's fight,
Another conflict see,
An upward-flashing path
To win a new renown,—
Crown'd with the greater crown
Of magnanimity!
149
AT LYME REGIS
September, 1870
Calm, azure, marble sea
As a fair palace pavement largely spread,
Where the gray bastions of the eternal hills
Lean over languidly,
Bosom'd with leafy trees, and garlanded!
As a fair palace pavement largely spread,
Where the gray bastions of the eternal hills
Lean over languidly,
Bosom'd with leafy trees, and garlanded!
Peace is on all I view;
Sunshine and peace; earth clear as heaven one hour;
Save where the sailing cloud its dusky line
Ruffles along the blue,
Brush'd by the soft wing of the silent shower.
Sunshine and peace; earth clear as heaven one hour;
Save where the sailing cloud its dusky line
Ruffles along the blue,
Brush'd by the soft wing of the silent shower.
150
In no profounder calm
Did the great Spirit over ocean brood,
Ere the first hill his yet unclouded crest
Rear'd, or the first fair palm
Doubled her maiden beauty in the flood.
Did the great Spirit over ocean brood,
Ere the first hill his yet unclouded crest
Rear'd, or the first fair palm
Doubled her maiden beauty in the flood.
Yet if the sapphire veil
That rounds the verge were rent aside, what fast
Flashings of flame blood-red, and blood-red smoke,
What crash of steel-tipp'd hail,
Across this calm what horror would be cast!
That rounds the verge were rent aside, what fast
Flashings of flame blood-red, and blood-red smoke,
What crash of steel-tipp'd hail,
Across this calm what horror would be cast!
Here, in her ancient home,
Peace, soveran set since Commons warr'd with King:—
There, the fair plains where none has lived his life
Unvex'd by din of drum,
Or clash of arms, or panic hurrying.
Peace, soveran set since Commons warr'd with King:—
There, the fair plains where none has lived his life
Unvex'd by din of drum,
Or clash of arms, or panic hurrying.
Here, Nature's gentlest hues:—
There, on the dinted field a crimson stream,
River of death, once life, corrupts the turf;
And the pure natural dews
Breathe rank and lurid 'mid the charnel steam.
There, on the dinted field a crimson stream,
River of death, once life, corrupts the turf;
And the pure natural dews
Breathe rank and lurid 'mid the charnel steam.
151
Here, in God's acre, death
Smooths a green couch of rest for the white head:—
There, stack'd in piles of tortured flesh, the young,
Gasping a quick, hot breath,
Envy the gentler portion of the dead.
Smooths a green couch of rest for the white head:—
There, stack'd in piles of tortured flesh, the young,
Gasping a quick, hot breath,
Envy the gentler portion of the dead.
I see the dark array
As a long snake unroll itself, and thrust
Against a wall of flame; then decompose,
Arrested in mid way;
Writhing at first; now motionless in dust.
As a long snake unroll itself, and thrust
Against a wall of flame; then decompose,
Arrested in mid way;
Writhing at first; now motionless in dust.
Unswerving files! ye went
Right on the gaping mouths of hail and fire,
For God and Fatherland,—as they, whose lives,
Through glorious error spent,
At Balaklava made the world admire!
Right on the gaping mouths of hail and fire,
For God and Fatherland,—as they, whose lives,
Through glorious error spent,
At Balaklava made the world admire!
Or a beleaguer'd town
The floods of war out all around surveys,
And holds on with stout heart, though the dread bomb
In her mid streets rains down,
And wolf-gaunt famine prowls through all her ways.
The floods of war out all around surveys,
And holds on with stout heart, though the dread bomb
In her mid streets rains down,
And wolf-gaunt famine prowls through all her ways.
152
Or the red ranks of France,
Wall'd three-fold round by those grim Northern bands,
Holding their blood cheap, and their land, how dear!
Thrice and thrice more advance:—
In vain!—Fate bars them with relentless hands.
Wall'd three-fold round by those grim Northern bands,
Holding their blood cheap, and their land, how dear!
Thrice and thrice more advance:—
In vain!—Fate bars them with relentless hands.
—-Fair France! Great Germany!
What less than demon impulse, rage for ill,
Could taint the natural love of man for man
With hellish savagery,
Its selfish aims through ruin to fulfil?
What less than demon impulse, rage for ill,
Could taint the natural love of man for man
With hellish savagery,
Its selfish aims through ruin to fulfil?
Was it for this your hands
Master'd each kindly trade, each art of life?
The mind explored all knowledge, and the with
Flash'd wisdom through all lands;
And all to glut the cannon and the knife?
Master'd each kindly trade, each art of life?
The mind explored all knowledge, and the with
Flash'd wisdom through all lands;
And all to glut the cannon and the knife?
Not when earth soaks with gore,
And man on man halloos the fiendish chase,
Send forth your red-cross knights to nurse the dead!
But going out before,
Staunch the mad jealousy of race 'gainst race.
And man on man halloos the fiendish chase,
Send forth your red-cross knights to nurse the dead!
But going out before,
Staunch the mad jealousy of race 'gainst race.
153
The boast of brotherhood,
The pride of science, progress, skill, and wealth,
Shame us:—for each hard-conquer'd gain, the world
Rolls back its weary road,
And the kind makes no step to higher health.
The pride of science, progress, skill, and wealth,
Shame us:—for each hard-conquer'd gain, the world
Rolls back its weary road,
And the kind makes no step to higher health.
He who against the slope
Heaved the returning rock, and heaved again,
Was man's true ancestor:—Ourselves to know;—
In hope to work 'gainst hope;—
This is the sole advance the Fates ordain.
Heaved the returning rock, and heaved again,
Was man's true ancestor:—Ourselves to know;—
In hope to work 'gainst hope;—
This is the sole advance the Fates ordain.
Peace!—in the very word
There seems a blessing:—Peace! From thoughts too deep
Turn to fair Nature's teachings, and the calm,
By fretful man unstirr'd,
Her gentle laws in even current keep.
There seems a blessing:—Peace! From thoughts too deep
Turn to fair Nature's teachings, and the calm,
By fretful man unstirr'd,
Her gentle laws in even current keep.
No fruitless strife she holds;
No jealous war for bare supremacy;
But Order binds the elements, and Love
By strong attraction folds
All atoms in one golden unity.
No jealous war for bare supremacy;
But Order binds the elements, and Love
By strong attraction folds
All atoms in one golden unity.
154
Nor fair Utopian plan
Nor false horizons lure her from her road;
Where Fate says ‘Yield,’ she yields; and what she would
Changing for what she can,
Transmutes all evil into final good.
Nor false horizons lure her from her road;
Where Fate says ‘Yield,’ she yields; and what she would
Changing for what she can,
Transmutes all evil into final good.
God's way he best discerns
Who tracks it, frankly bold, yet calm with awe:
To whom, through strife, and seeming waste, and death,
The night of Nature, burns
The central star of Reason and of Law.
Who tracks it, frankly bold, yet calm with awe:
To whom, through strife, and seeming waste, and death,
The night of Nature, burns
The central star of Reason and of Law.
155
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1871
We have look'd for thee long;—and behold thee,
Ice at the heart, tear frozen on tear;
Snowdrifts and sorrow the robes that enfold thee,
O bitter New Year!
Ice at the heart, tear frozen on tear;
Snowdrifts and sorrow the robes that enfold thee,
O bitter New Year!
Thou art come; and the light of thy morning
Lurid arises and baleful and drear;
Blood-stain'd the world; skies ruthless and scorning,
O bitter New Year!
Lurid arises and baleful and drear;
Blood-stain'd the world; skies ruthless and scorning,
O bitter New Year!
Oft of science and peace they have told us;
Songs of advance too loud in our ear:
War and red ravin and hatred enfold us
In the bitter New Year!
Songs of advance too loud in our ear:
War and red ravin and hatred enfold us
In the bitter New Year!
156
Thou art come: and the breath of thy coming
Scorches with carnage and freezes with fear;
Flame at thy lips, but flame icy and numbing,
O bitter New Year!
Scorches with carnage and freezes with fear;
Flame at thy lips, but flame icy and numbing,
O bitter New Year!
For the mother is cold by the cradle,
Babes in the bosom shrivell'd and sere;
Brides at the bridal for silver have sable
In the bitter New Year.
Babes in the bosom shrivell'd and sere;
Brides at the bridal for silver have sable
In the bitter New Year.
And the young men of France in the trenches,
Old men and infants are stiff on the bier:—
Yet the brave heart of the land never blenches
In the bitter New Year!
Old men and infants are stiff on the bier:—
Yet the brave heart of the land never blenches
In the bitter New Year!
From the fields of defeat and betrayal
Once more, when all appear'd lost, they are here;
Once more enrank'd for thy dreadful assayal,
O bitter New Year!
Once more, when all appear'd lost, they are here;
Once more enrank'd for thy dreadful assayal,
O bitter New Year!
They may go like the thousands before them,
Dying for France, the down-trodden, the dear:
Yet on their deathbed her glory is o'er them
In the bitter New Year.
Dying for France, the down-trodden, the dear:
Yet on their deathbed her glory is o'er them
In the bitter New Year.
157
Though the furnace be seven-fold heated,
Forth will she leap, resplendent and clear:
Purged of her dross, though forlorn and defeated
In the bitter New Year!
Forth will she leap, resplendent and clear:
Purged of her dross, though forlorn and defeated
In the bitter New Year!
Till renew'd in the strength of her splendour,
Purer and prouder her face she will rear:
And thou for each burden a blessing wilt render,
O bitter New Year!
Purer and prouder her face she will rear:
And thou for each burden a blessing wilt render,
O bitter New Year!
158
THE ESQUILINE FIELD
Rome, B.C. 10
Beneath the Servian rampart,
Where the air should be pure and sweet,
The dead-man's field of the City
Lies at the Romans' feet.
Where the air should be pure and sweet,
The dead-man's field of the City
Lies at the Romans' feet.
Afar it gleams like a chalk-pit;
But, walking above, you may see
Vast acres of bones that whiten
The gloomy Esquiliae.
But, walking above, you may see
Vast acres of bones that whiten
The gloomy Esquiliae.
There, the lash and the workhouse over,
The corpse of the swarthy slave
They toss to corrupt and crumble,
Not worth its faggot and grave.
The corpse of the swarthy slave
They toss to corrupt and crumble,
Not worth its faggot and grave.
159
There, no longer fit to be noticed
In her master's amorous hour,
The limbs of the little handmaiden
Lie stark in frost and shower.
In her master's amorous hour,
The limbs of the little handmaiden
Lie stark in frost and shower.
There the sighs of murder'd infants
That hardly look'd on the sun,
With the sighs of the coarse reed grasses
Creep faintly and blend into one.
That hardly look'd on the sun,
With the sighs of the coarse reed grasses
Creep faintly and blend into one.
From Africa, Gaul, and Britain,
From Dacia and Asia they came,
Each a perfect human creature,
To toil and fetters and shame.
From Dacia and Asia they came,
Each a perfect human creature,
To toil and fetters and shame.
Torn from the distant village,
Torn from their natural air,
To know nought of life but the burden,
And die and be cast out there.
Torn from their natural air,
To know nought of life but the burden,
And die and be cast out there.
And the elegant throng on the rampart
Essence in hand goes by,
When the whiff of the charnel sickens
The nose of Society.
Essence in hand goes by,
When the whiff of the charnel sickens
The nose of Society.
160
But a social reform is coming,
For Maecaenas will buy the place,
And set it out in fair gardens,
And the dead-man's field efface:—
For Maecaenas will buy the place,
And set it out in fair gardens,
And the dead-man's field efface:—
And fashion will frisk and simper,
And acknowledge the charming spot:
—But the bones and the souls that own'd them,
I say, will they be forgot?
And acknowledge the charming spot:
—But the bones and the souls that own'd them,
I say, will they be forgot?
The souls disfeatured and ruin'd,
Bodies ground down to waste,
To form a broad foundation
For comfort and wealth and taste?
Bodies ground down to waste,
To form a broad foundation
For comfort and wealth and taste?
And Vienna, London, and Paris,
Have they such a field to show?
—How can you?—Culture and Science
Manage things better, we know.
Have they such a field to show?
—How can you?—Culture and Science
Manage things better, we know.
161
A MOTHER'S LAMENT
With the cottage girls and the poor
It often is so, they say:
Yet 'tis to each mother as much
As if she were the only such
Whose daughter has wander'd astray.
It often is so, they say:
Yet 'tis to each mother as much
As if she were the only such
Whose daughter has wander'd astray.
She troubled and pain'd me oft;
Yet I loved her beyond them all,
Fanciful ever and wild,
My dark-eyed gipsy child,
Dark-hair'd and nut-brown and tall.
Yet I loved her beyond them all,
Fanciful ever and wild,
My dark-eyed gipsy child,
Dark-hair'd and nut-brown and tall.
They say she loved notice and dress;
There was nothing to make me amazed:
Perhaps it was vanity there;
For her looks an overcare,
An overcare to be praised.
There was nothing to make me amazed:
162
For her looks an overcare,
An overcare to be praised.
Yet no such sweet temper as her's,
No smiles like her's in the place;
When she garnish'd the cottage out,
Or carried the youngest about,
And she with her mere child's face!
No smiles like her's in the place;
When she garnish'd the cottage out,
Or carried the youngest about,
And she with her mere child's face!
And I guarded her all I could;
But what can be done by the poor?
She went from her home far away,
Where respite was none, night or day,
Nor comfort within the door.
But what can be done by the poor?
She went from her home far away,
Where respite was none, night or day,
Nor comfort within the door.
Yet if she had had her chance,
She would have been gentle and good;
Have kept a pure maiden breast,
By respect for herself repress'd
The dance of the youthful blood.
She would have been gentle and good;
Have kept a pure maiden breast,
By respect for herself repress'd
The dance of the youthful blood.
163
But praise, on her simple looks,
And gold, on her wearisome life
Where never a happiness came,
Like sunbeams fell:—and the shame
Was hid in some whisper of ‘wife.’
And gold, on her wearisome life
Where never a happiness came,
Like sunbeams fell:—and the shame
Was hid in some whisper of ‘wife.’
I know not if she believed,
For she was only a child;
She took his base jewels for true;
She could not keep out of his view,
And turn'd unsettled and wild.
For she was only a child;
She took his base jewels for true;
She could not keep out of his view,
And turn'd unsettled and wild.
And jest and lust and the pride
Of conquest urged on the suit;
Half force, half folly:—but O
The shame of advantage, so
Won on a child by a brute!
Of conquest urged on the suit;
Half force, half folly:—but O
The shame of advantage, so
Won on a child by a brute!
And he had his play and his laugh,
And pass'd on to his pleasures elsewhere:
But she—where she hides her head,
And if with the living or dead,
To think I cannot dare.
And pass'd on to his pleasures elsewhere:
But she—where she hides her head,
164
To think I cannot dare.
She dares not come back, nor knows
For her face how I linger and yearn:—
Whatever there be, I forgive,—
O one hour, to tell if you live,
Only one hour, return!
For her face how I linger and yearn:—
Whatever there be, I forgive,—
O one hour, to tell if you live,
Only one hour, return!
—If ever the child has her chance
She may yet be honest and good.
God will pity the lost, and exact
From the tempter the price of his act;
For upon his head is her blood.
She may yet be honest and good.
God will pity the lost, and exact
From the tempter the price of his act;
For upon his head is her blood.
167
THE COTTAGE HOME
Clothed in a cloud of green woodbine,
Its feet with the red rose bound,
It stands like a fairy creature
On its own dear fairy ground:
'Neath eave-brow'd casements the martin
With a cry dips into his nest:
The turf breathes white from the gable,
And all breathes sweetness and rest:—
But they clear the cottages off on this estate;
And for picturesqueness without, within there is gloom;
For it is not sweet when four boys and three girls and the parents
Must herd in a single room.
Its feet with the red rose bound,
It stands like a fairy creature
On its own dear fairy ground:
'Neath eave-brow'd casements the martin
With a cry dips into his nest:
The turf breathes white from the gable,
And all breathes sweetness and rest:—
But they clear the cottages off on this estate;
And for picturesqueness without, within there is gloom;
For it is not sweet when four boys and three girls and the parents
Must herd in a single room.
Girt with a fringe of fair forest
As a cup with vine-leaves bound,
The valley lies like a fragment
Of Paradise lost and found:—
Safe from the talons of tempest,
From all that can ravage and blot,
It smiles to its smiling heaven
In the peace that the world knows not.
—But they clear the cottages off on this estate;
And from the choke and heat of the fever-smit room,
Where nine are stabled and one is groaning in shame,
There rises a reek of gloom.
As a cup with vine-leaves bound,
The valley lies like a fragment
Of Paradise lost and found:—
168
From all that can ravage and blot,
It smiles to its smiling heaven
In the peace that the world knows not.
—But they clear the cottages off on this estate;
And from the choke and heat of the fever-smit room,
Where nine are stabled and one is groaning in shame,
There rises a reek of gloom.
O blot unatoned-for by beauty!
Fair face,—and Death laughing below!
O dumb endurance of lifetimes,
O dim degradation and woe!
In the breast of the rose is a canker,
A tear in the heart of the dew,
Where Nature has all her sweetness,
And man is a blur on the view!
For they clear the cottages off on this estate:
And the ragged peak of the window-dismantled room,
As an eyeless skull where the vermin burrow and shriek,
Stares now like a sign of doom.
Fair face,—and Death laughing below!
O dumb endurance of lifetimes,
O dim degradation and woe!
In the breast of the rose is a canker,
A tear in the heart of the dew,
Where Nature has all her sweetness,
And man is a blur on the view!
For they clear the cottages off on this estate:
And the ragged peak of the window-dismantled room,
As an eyeless skull where the vermin burrow and shriek,
Stares now like a sign of doom.
169
THE TOWN
‘Smoke, wealth, and noise,’ the Roman's list,
Exhaust not all the city yields;
The mid-day glare: the hush of night:
The breath of fields
Blown through dim blue-air'd streets at earliest light.
Exhaust not all the city yields;
The mid-day glare: the hush of night:
The breath of fields
Blown through dim blue-air'd streets at earliest light.
There the last shout of parting friends
Hoarse from their wine, and hot retreats,
Joins the fresh chorus they troll forth
Who know the streets
But as the place where labour has its worth.
Hoarse from their wine, and hot retreats,
Joins the fresh chorus they troll forth
Who know the streets
But as the place where labour has its worth.
They care not how the glooms of eve
Behind each dawn their ambush make,
Nor for the narrow toilsome round,
Ache upon ache,
Till the bent limbs crawl to the nameless mound.
Behind each dawn their ambush make,
170
Ache upon ache,
Till the bent limbs crawl to the nameless mound.
There some poor wanderer of the ways
Through nursery casement hears the cry
Of restless childhood; and her heart
Sickens to die
At thought how Such thou wast; and this thou art.
Through nursery casement hears the cry
Of restless childhood; and her heart
Sickens to die
At thought how Such thou wast; and this thou art.
Then the cool bathes her face, and hope
And love of life, their strength regain.
And the tide rises in the ways,
And the full main
Of being swells beneath the climbing rays.
And love of life, their strength regain.
And the tide rises in the ways,
And the full main
Of being swells beneath the climbing rays.
The barefoot children on the roads
Shout in shrill hunger playing; weeds
Toss'd random on the waste: while wealth
Her darling leads
Through the fenced paths of happiness and health.
Shout in shrill hunger playing; weeds
Toss'd random on the waste: while wealth
Her darling leads
Through the fenced paths of happiness and health.
171
And one is on the chase of gold,
And one for bread he cannot find;
For love, for lust, for foe, for friend:
And each is blind,
Save where his impulse leads, and inner end.
And one for bread he cannot find;
For love, for lust, for foe, for friend:
And each is blind,
Save where his impulse leads, and inner end.
So death and life, and wealth and want,
O'er the long pavements of the town
Fling light with darkness: whilst on high
The sun casts down
The calm observance of his golden eye.
O'er the long pavements of the town
Fling light with darkness: whilst on high
The sun casts down
The calm observance of his golden eye.
172
TO A SPRING-HEAD IN SOUTH WALES
Child of the rock! not chill as those
That from the sapphire glacier go,
Yet marble-fresh to lips and brows
That dip within thy lucid flow,
And rise with quicken'd strength, and inward glow:
That from the sapphire glacier go,
Yet marble-fresh to lips and brows
That dip within thy lucid flow,
And rise with quicken'd strength, and inward glow:
—Like thee the wise,—with equal glance
Watching the fever of the day,
The boasts of premature advance,
The groans of querulous dismay,—
Hot hopes, weak fears, with temperate draughts allay.
Watching the fever of the day,
The boasts of premature advance,
The groans of querulous dismay,—
Hot hopes, weak fears, with temperate draughts allay.
173
—E'en thus with pure unswerving force
Thine unremittent waters go;
And all around thy cradle-source
The ferns their green embroidery throw,
And the lush grasses net themselves below:—
Thine unremittent waters go;
And all around thy cradle-source
The ferns their green embroidery throw,
And the lush grasses net themselves below:—
And from the homestead in the glen
A girl her hollow pitcher brings,
And loads with liquid crystal:—then
Above her head the weight she swings,
And down the vale her even carol rings.
A girl her hollow pitcher brings,
And loads with liquid crystal:—then
Above her head the weight she swings,
And down the vale her even carol rings.
174
IN HIGH SAVOY
Nature's fair, fruitless, aimless world
Men take and mould at will:
Scoop havens from the wasteful sea;
Tame heaths to green fertility,
And grind their roadway through the hill.
Men take and mould at will:
Scoop havens from the wasteful sea;
Tame heaths to green fertility,
And grind their roadway through the hill.
Another aspect now she dons,
Changed by the hands of men:—
What harvest plains of golden hope!
What vineyards on the amber slope!
What lurid forge-lights in the glen!
Changed by the hands of men:—
What harvest plains of golden hope!
What vineyards on the amber slope!
What lurid forge-lights in the glen!
Yet still some relics she reserves
Of what was all her own:—
Keeps the wild surface of the moor,
Or, where the glacier-torrents roar,
Reigns o'er gray piles of wrinkled stone.
Of what was all her own:—
Keeps the wild surface of the moor,
Or, where the glacier-torrents roar,
Reigns o'er gray piles of wrinkled stone.
175
And though man's daily strengthening sway
Contracts her precinct fair,
Yet round smooth sweeps of vine-set land
Her vaporous ranks of summit stand
As ghosts in morning's silent air:—
Contracts her precinct fair,
Yet round smooth sweeps of vine-set land
Her vaporous ranks of summit stand
As ghosts in morning's silent air:—
Or on vast slopes, unplough'd, untrod,
She vindicates her right;
Green billows of primaeval copse,
Tossing a myriad spiry tops
'Neath the full zenith-flood of light:—
She vindicates her right;
Green billows of primaeval copse,
Tossing a myriad spiry tops
'Neath the full zenith-flood of light:—
Or where,—whilst o'er Rhone's azure lake
Heaven's azure stainless lies,—
From the White Mount the white clouds strike
As if volcano-born, or like
The smoke of some great sacrifice.
Heaven's azure stainless lies,—
From the White Mount the white clouds strike
As if volcano-born, or like
The smoke of some great sacrifice.
176
TO FIDELE
Care not, if in her lucid course
Unveiling intermediate laws,
And ever-flowing streams of force,
And analysing all to one,
Science or seeks or shuns the Cause.
Unveiling intermediate laws,
And ever-flowing streams of force,
And analysing all to one,
Science or seeks or shuns the Cause.
Care not, if searching History pour
Her blaze on what of old was writ,
Or if the text revered of yore
Resign the sole and special place
Blind human love imposed on it.
Her blaze on what of old was writ,
Or if the text revered of yore
Resign the sole and special place
Blind human love imposed on it.
On all we know with gracious smiles
The great Omniscience looks: nor cares
If ill or well we sum the miles
'Twixt earth and sun; nor how the strife
Of real and ideal fares.
The great Omniscience looks: nor cares
If ill or well we sum the miles
'Twixt earth and sun; nor how the strife
Of real and ideal fares.
177
But the high heart, the noble aim,
The fair soul speaking in the face,
In the divine true portion claim:—
And oft to those who own him least
The Master comes with special grace.
The fair soul speaking in the face,
In the divine true portion claim:—
And oft to those who own him least
The Master comes with special grace.
Then fear not, if the jangling sects
Announce each other fool or knave:
Nor let thy central peace be vext
When pulpit-fulminations blaze,
Or fervid Nature-prophets rave.
Announce each other fool or knave:
Nor let thy central peace be vext
When pulpit-fulminations blaze,
Or fervid Nature-prophets rave.
But pray thy prayer and keep thy creed
In modest majesty of soul:—
'Tis the pure hand and heart They heed
Who mark the fallen sparrow's cry,
And are the Infinite they control.
In modest majesty of soul:—
'Tis the pure hand and heart They heed
Who mark the fallen sparrow's cry,
And are the Infinite they control.
186
NATURE AND MAN
The trees in their greenest;
The summer-still'd voice of the stream,
In the pause of the nightingale
Heard as far off in a dream;
Deep meadows, where Iris
Her scarf has flung down in her mirth,
While Heaven, one sapphire,
With a blue smile closes on earth:—
The summer-still'd voice of the stream,
In the pause of the nightingale
Heard as far off in a dream;
Deep meadows, where Iris
Her scarf has flung down in her mirth,
While Heaven, one sapphire,
With a blue smile closes on earth:—
Here in Nature's aloneness,
What need, Shepherd, of thee?
Why this blot, this intrusion
Of poor humanity?
With the forces around thee
Thou would'st hold contention in vain;
With the music of Nature
Idly thou matchest thy strain.
What need, Shepherd, of thee?
Why this blot, this intrusion
Of poor humanity?
With the forces around thee
Thou would'st hold contention in vain;
With the music of Nature
Idly thou matchest thy strain.
187
—Ah no, 'tis another
Lesson the landscape must give:
'Tis but in the mirror
Of mind these pageantries live:
When the eye that beholds them
Is closed, the radiance dies;
From the trees the greenery,
The sapphire goes from the skies:—
Lesson the landscape must give:
'Tis but in the mirror
Of mind these pageantries live:
When the eye that beholds them
Is closed, the radiance dies;
From the trees the greenery,
The sapphire goes from the skies:—
To his ear the streamlet
To his ear only may sing;
O'er his hand the crystal
Run cool, as he dips it therein:—
O Nature, we know thee
Alone as thou art to the soul:
While we know that we only
Are as atoms that float in the Whole.
To his ear only may sing;
O'er his hand the crystal
Run cool, as he dips it therein:—
O Nature, we know thee
Alone as thou art to the soul:
While we know that we only
Are as atoms that float in the Whole.
188
THE VOICES OF NATURE
1
Wearied with the golden glare,With the noise of worldly things,
Take us to thy larger air,
To the shadow of thy wings!
In the wild with Nature lonely
Listening for thy message only.
2
—In the meadows, in the vales,In the greenness of the grove;
Where the snowy sea-bird sails,
Blue below and blue above;
Where the echoes pause to hear us,
More than what we know is near us.
189
3
Living light along the dimVerge, where summer dawning breaks;
Slopes of rock on hill-sides grim;
Mid-day sun on silent lakes;
Homeless cry of breezes roaming;
Movements in the hazy gloaming;
4
Emerald rents in icy streams;Walls of sea, from mountain tops
Caught afar in violet gleams;
Sighings of the midnight copse;
Peaks in fierce contortions riven,
Menacing the quiet heaven;—
5
O, a hidden life, we cry,Lurks beneath this eyeless mask!
Soul of Nature, thou art nigh;
Speak!—we hear!—In vain we ask:
She is mute to man's appealing,
Heartless 'neath the show of feeling.
190
6
What in Nature is our share,Blind 'mid all her loveliness,—
This inexorable fair,—
This unconscious awfulness?
What lies hid behind her seeming,
Felt, not seen, in fitful gleaming?
7
When the glare of day is past,And the thousand ancient eyes
Open on us in the vast,
To the heart their influence flies;
And the sea of worlds around us
To a nothing seems to bound us.
8
Far beyond Orion brightCloud on cloud the star-haze lies;
Million years bear down the light
Earthward from those ghost-like eyes,
As a little thing beholding
Man his long career unfolding.
191
9
And the silver ways of heavenWind like rivers o'er the sky,
Till the regent moon, with even
Pace, unveils her majesty;
O'er some dusky ridge appearing,
Boat of heaven through heaven steering.
10
—Who is man, and what his place,Anxious asks the heart, perplex'd
In this recklessness of space,
Worlds with worlds thus intermix'd:
What has he, this atom creature,
In the infinitude of Nature?
11
—Morning comes, where, eastward spread,Cloudy curtains fold the day,
Till the Dawn quits Tithon's bed,
Till the bold sun rends his way:
Then to climb the zenith golden,
All that lives, as his, beholding.
192
12
In thyself well might'st thou trust,God of ancient days, O Sun!
All thy sequent stars the dust
From thy whirling car-wheels spun:
All that lies within thy seeing
From thy golden smile has being.
13
Who the ages can recountSince the vaporous ring of earth,
Floating from the central fount,
Orb'd together at the birth,
Or since, in the warmer ocean,
Life in her first cell had motion?
14
As beyond the furthest starStar-clouds swim in golden haze,
So, in long procession, far
Passes life beyond our gaze:
Myriad stars and systems o'er us;
Myriad layers of life before us.
193
15
Through the mollusc, through the worm,Life reveals her gradual plan;
Form developing to form,
Till the cycle stays with man,—
Feeblest born and last in season,
Yet sole child and heir of reason.
16
Is this all, the heart once moreAsks, if,—after ages gone,
Slow upheavals, shore on shore,
Years on years condensed in stone,
Weary steps of voiceless story,
Life in us attain'd her glory.
17
If, through long-evolving choice,Man attain'd his dizzy place,
Poised 'twixt two infinities,
Endless time, and boundless space,
What is he, this atom creature,
Wavering in the abyss of Nature?
194
18
—In the early days of lifeNature's law seem'd chaos wild;
Earth with Deity was rife;
Man, the Gods' own care and child,
His own soul in all things seeing,
Deem'd himself the crown of being.
19
Wider his horizons grown,Man acknowledges his place;
Sees his dot of life alone
In the vast of time and space:
Blind mechanic forces round him
On all sides conspire to bound him:—
20
All creation save himselfSeems by changeless law to flow:
He, like some poor childish elf
Where huge engines groan and go;
'Mid the ponderous systems turning
No place left for him discerning:—
195
21
Then, in wonderment and fearAt the Whole he dimly grasps,
To the senses bounds his sphere,
Life as his sole portion clasps;
All that passes man's exploring
As of no avail ignoring:—
22
Sweeps aside, as vague or vain,All of spiritual source;
Soul, a function of the brain;
God, a metaphor for Force:
So, half pride of heart, half humbly,
Sits and waits his future dumbly.
23
—Voice of Nature in the heart,Waken us to braver things!
Teach how all at which we start
From the mind's own magic springs:
Born within that inward mirror,
Ghosts we raise we flee in terror.
196
24
Thy whole universe is lessThan one atom-grain of thought;
Forms of man's own consciousness,
Space and Time o'erwhelm him not;
Feeblest born and last in season,
Yet sole child and heir of reason.
25
Conscious in his heart alone,Nature reads herself in Man:
Only here has freedom known,
Bound elsewhere by changeless plan:
Elsewhere, blind instinctive being;
Here alone is seen and seeing.
26
Now, on all we touch and see,As progressive truth evolves,
Science lays her high decree,
Matter into Force resolves;
Force by other force replaces;
Points to one that all embraces:
197
27
As though every star that shines,All this universe we see,
Space through all her wide confines,
Modes of one vast force might be;
Sole, within itself abiding,
Though 'neath myriad faces hiding.
28
Call her law, this wondrous whole,Call her force,—the heart of man
Hears the voice within the soul
Dominant o'er Nature's plan;
Laws of mind their echo finding
In the laws on atoms binding.
29
—Voice of Nature in the heart,Narrow though our science, though
Here we only know in part,
Give us faith in what we know!
To a fuller life aspiring,
Satisfy the heart's desiring:—
198
30
Tell us of a force, behindNature's force, supreme, alone:
Tell us of a larger mind
Than the partial power we own:
Tell us of a Being wholly
Wise and great and just and holy:—
31
Toning down the pride of mindTo a wiser humbleness,
Teach the limits of mankind,
Weak to know, and prompt to guess,
On the mighty shores that bound us
Childlike gathering trifles round us:—
32
Teach how, yet, what here we knowTo the unknown leads the way,
As the light that, faint and low,
Prophesies consummate day;
How the little arc before us
Proves the perfect circle o'er us:—
199
33
How the marr'd unequal schemeThat on all sides here we meet,
Either is a lawless dream,
Or must somewhere be complete;—
Where or when, if near, or distant,
Known but to the One Existent.
34
—He is. We meanwhile repairFrom the noise of human things
To the fields of larger air,
To the shadow of his wings:
Listening for his message only
In the wild with Nature lonely.
200
ΑΓΝΩΤΩ ΘΕΩ
Ask not what next shall be
When we have shuffled off
This so familiar flesh,
This mortal coil and slough.
When we have shuffled off
This so familiar flesh,
This mortal coil and slough.
The snake renews his youth,
And flames again in spring;
The swallow from the sea
Floats back on annual wing.
And flames again in spring;
The swallow from the sea
Floats back on annual wing.
The year-long day of Earth
Sets in her snowy tomb;
But spring by spring comes back
Resurgent in her bloom.
Sets in her snowy tomb;
But spring by spring comes back
Resurgent in her bloom.
Yet ask not what shall be
When once our course is run!
No lesson lies for us
In bird, or snake, or sun.
When once our course is run!
No lesson lies for us
In bird, or snake, or sun.
201
He, if his being be
Such as our sense can own,
He, whátsoe'er he is,
Unseen, unreach'd, unknown:
Such as our sense can own,
He, whátsoe'er he is,
Unseen, unreach'd, unknown:
In space and air and sun,
Sky, and the stars of it,
Aether and nebula,
He hath no message writ:
Sky, and the stars of it,
Aether and nebula,
He hath no message writ:
Not where beyond Orion
Heave seas of stellar spray;
Not in the chasms of night
That rend the Milky Way:
Heave seas of stellar spray;
Not in the chasms of night
That rend the Milky Way:
Not in the realms of life,
In beast, or bird, or tree;
Graved on no mountain top,
Dredged from no depths of sea.
In beast, or bird, or tree;
Graved on no mountain top,
Dredged from no depths of sea.
With glass and steel we search
The secret human form;
We find no presage there,
No future but the worm:
The secret human form;
We find no presage there,
No future but the worm:
202
From Nature's inmost heart
The final film withdraw;
Eternal silence reigns,
Bound in eternal law.
The final film withdraw;
Eternal silence reigns,
Bound in eternal law.
Force merges into Force;
The atom seeks its kind;
The elements are one,
And each with all combined.
The atom seeks its kind;
The elements are one,
And each with all combined.
Ah! man has vainly sought him
In outward things and dead;
He was not in the woods,
Nor on the mountain-head:
In outward things and dead;
He was not in the woods,
Nor on the mountain-head:
In tempest or in calm,
In forces or in laws,
In proofs of wise design,
In first or final cause.
In forces or in laws,
In proofs of wise design,
In first or final cause.
In thine own being, thine,
Nor elsewhere, search for his;
Not outer heaven or earth:
Within he speaks and is.
Nor elsewhere, search for his;
Not outer heaven or earth:
Within he speaks and is.
203
No voice can speak his voice;
No words his essence tell:
Felt beyond feeling's verge,
Inner, ineffable.
No words his essence tell:
Felt beyond feeling's verge,
Inner, ineffable.
Enough, to know him here,
Far, near, within, around:—
The heavenly treasure flies
Before the touch of sound.
Far, near, within, around:—
The heavenly treasure flies
Before the touch of sound.
In silence hold thy faith,
Unspeakable, alone:
The unknown future lies
Hid in the God Unknown.
Unspeakable, alone:
The unknown future lies
Hid in the God Unknown.
204
VOX DEI
I trod the bitter streets, that bear alike
The steps of want and wealth, success and woe;
Man's work, yet stern to man, as some frore peak
Of granite-cloaking snow;
Refugeless though secure; enduring; bleak.
The steps of want and wealth, success and woe;
Man's work, yet stern to man, as some frore peak
Of granite-cloaking snow;
Refugeless though secure; enduring; bleak.
They pass, these souls beneath the mask of man,
Veil'd each from each, in moving prisons pent:—
Whence come and whither going, who should say?
But each pursues intent
A common impulse, and a various way.
Veil'd each from each, in moving prisons pent:—
Whence come and whither going, who should say?
But each pursues intent
A common impulse, and a various way.
Ah not alone along the streets, O men,
Whence come, and whither going!—Is this all,
The things we feel and see; the petty past
That each one can recall,
The petty future that our eyes forecast?
Whence come, and whither going!—Is this all,
The things we feel and see; the petty past
That each one can recall,
The petty future that our eyes forecast?
205
—Within the holy haunts of ancient hills,
Or some cool meadow by Kephísus stream,
The fair philosophies of old were born;
And, blending truth with dream,
Breathed the soul's freshness and the light of morn.
Or some cool meadow by Kephísus stream,
The fair philosophies of old were born;
And, blending truth with dream,
Breathed the soul's freshness and the light of morn.
Well suits the tenour of the stony streets
The townbred science of our senile day,
To cell and current chasing down the soul,—
Far as she dares, the sway
Of fate and matter broadening o'er the whole.
The townbred science of our senile day,
To cell and current chasing down the soul,—
Far as she dares, the sway
Of fate and matter broadening o'er the whole.
Is this enough, to sink into the sum
Of the vague being of ‘collective Man?’
Enough, to toil and learn and wed and rear,
And make life all we can,
A first-class animal our highest sphere?
Of the vague being of ‘collective Man?’
Enough, to toil and learn and wed and rear,
And make life all we can,
A first-class animal our highest sphere?
Is it true science by ‘stern fact’ to bound
The knowable? From the heart the heart to screen?
In ‘certainties of sense’ to dwell alone,
Scorning all things unseen,
Ignoring all experience save our own?
The knowable? From the heart the heart to screen?
In ‘certainties of sense’ to dwell alone,
Scorning all things unseen,
Ignoring all experience save our own?
206
Pride's limitations mask'd in modesty!
Better the scream of atheist despair,
The servile ritual of the fetish shrine,
Than that complacent air,
That ceremonial bow to the Divine!
Better the scream of atheist despair,
The servile ritual of the fetish shrine,
Than that complacent air,
That ceremonial bow to the Divine!
Ah! something more the suffering multitude
Than Fate's ‘inexorable logic’ need!
Than acquiescence in the ‘sum of things’!
Nor does their deathbed heed
The doubtful aid the nature-prophet brings.
Than Fate's ‘inexorable logic’ need!
Than acquiescence in the ‘sum of things’!
Nor does their deathbed heed
The doubtful aid the nature-prophet brings.
To see right done at last; Good all in all;
To love and to be loved unendingly;
Once more the long-lost faces recognize;—
The heart's instinctive cry
Such nunc dimittis only satisfies.
To love and to be loved unendingly;
Once more the long-lost faces recognize;—
The heart's instinctive cry
Such nunc dimittis only satisfies.
O mockery, o'er the beasts by Faith, by Love,
By Hope, to rise, and Knowledge,—and be trod
All into clay at last, beneath the frown
Of an ironic God
Lifting man high, more deeply to cast down!
By Hope, to rise, and Knowledge,—and be trod
All into clay at last, beneath the frown
Of an ironic God
Lifting man high, more deeply to cast down!
207
Yet has he not, God living in the heart,
(Though by man's partial science veil'd from man,
Or by dark clouds of passionate despair,)
Hid all his mystic plan,
Or left us of his being unaware.
(Though by man's partial science veil'd from man,
Or by dark clouds of passionate despair,)
Hid all his mystic plan,
Or left us of his being unaware.
O deep assurance that the wrongs of life
Will find their perfect guerdon! That the scheme
So broken here, will elsewhere be fulfill'd!
Hope not a dreamer's dream!
Love's long last yearnings satisfied, not still'd!
Will find their perfect guerdon! That the scheme
So broken here, will elsewhere be fulfill'd!
Hope not a dreamer's dream!
Love's long last yearnings satisfied, not still'd!
O message of the mind not less assured
Than that which at her gate the senses lay
And she interprets: Oracles of the soul
Of more imperial sway
Than aught that Nature brings us from the Whole,
Than that which at her gate the senses lay
And she interprets: Oracles of the soul
Of more imperial sway
Than aught that Nature brings us from the Whole,
And higher essence: From the mind herself
Inly developed: Born again as fair
In every child on life's stern struggle thrown,
As when Man's godlike air
First startled Earth her new-found king to own!
Inly developed: Born again as fair
In every child on life's stern struggle thrown,
As when Man's godlike air
First startled Earth her new-found king to own!
208
—I trod of late the bitter streets, that bear
The steps of want and wealth impassively;
Where men like heartless puppets come and go;
Business and Vanity,
And selfish scheming, and well-acted woe.
The steps of want and wealth impassively;
Where men like heartless puppets come and go;
Business and Vanity,
And selfish scheming, and well-acted woe.
What heaven-sent impulse of humanity,
On these chill ruthless pavements can be bred?
What plant of grace, methought, could here have root?
Shroud-like the skies and dead;
And God and holy Nature quite shut out.
On these chill ruthless pavements can be bred?
What plant of grace, methought, could here have root?
Shroud-like the skies and dead;
And God and holy Nature quite shut out.
—It was a child of eight who swept the way
Where mine cross'd her's that morning; hunger-white;
Clad in rags not her own: yet keeping still
Something of childhood's light;
Blithe at her task, not wholly tamed to ill.
Where mine cross'd her's that morning; hunger-white;
Clad in rags not her own: yet keeping still
Something of childhood's light;
Blithe at her task, not wholly tamed to ill.
Hardly she dared to ask the bread I gave,
And took as one misdoubting her delight:—
Then eyed the store a moment, and in haste
Folding her treasure tight,
With little fingers bound it at her waist.
And took as one misdoubting her delight:—
Then eyed the store a moment, and in haste
Folding her treasure tight,
With little fingers bound it at her waist.
209
‘'Twas brought from home,’ I said, ‘she need not fear’:
And bade her eat, and as she turn'd to flee
Held her; ‘she must be hungry’; but 'twas vain:
She heard a stronger plea,
The baby voices crying in their pain
And bade her eat, and as she turn'd to flee
Held her; ‘she must be hungry’; but 'twas vain:
She heard a stronger plea,
The baby voices crying in their pain
By the black fire-less hearth, unsatisfied.
‘They must have some! the children want it so’!
—Her tears were nigh; her whole heart homeward bent—
‘Now would you let me go’?—
And God was with the little feet that went.
‘They must have some! the children want it so’!
—Her tears were nigh; her whole heart homeward bent—
‘Now would you let me go’?—
And God was with the little feet that went.
210
VENI CREATOR
O Thou who, as our knowledge grows
In the world's latter days,
The more thou seem'st to clear the sky,
The more dost hide thy face:
In the world's latter days,
The more thou seem'st to clear the sky,
The more dost hide thy face:
—As ever-widening search reveals
The depth and breadth of ill
Scourging mankind through all the past,
And sweeping o'er us still:
The depth and breadth of ill
Scourging mankind through all the past,
And sweeping o'er us still:
As Science, forging day by day
Her close-link'd chain, withdraws
The once-felt touches of thy hand
For dumb organic laws:
Her close-link'd chain, withdraws
The once-felt touches of thy hand
For dumb organic laws:
As fears of change, and fears of doubt,
Unnerve the o'er-wrought mind,
Enfeebled 'mid its added strength,
'Mid all its seeing, blind:—
Unnerve the o'er-wrought mind,
Enfeebled 'mid its added strength,
'Mid all its seeing, blind:—
211
The wider wisdom thou hast giv'n
Yet is not wholly gain;
The truer vision scathes our sight;
We cannot see thee plain.
Yet is not wholly gain;
The truer vision scathes our sight;
We cannot see thee plain.
Enlarge our hearts and purge our eyes
To bear thy nearer light!
The world's young ignorance is o'er;
Make us to know thee right.
To bear thy nearer light!
The world's young ignorance is o'er;
Make us to know thee right.
| Lyrical Poems | |