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Poems and Essays

By the late William Caldwell Roscoe. (Edited with a Prefatory Memoir, by his Brother-in-law, Richard Holt Hutton)
Roscoe, William Caldwell (1823-1859)

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MINOR POEMS.
  
[Clouds and mists and vapours dim]
  
THE FALSE FONTANLEE.
  
F. M.
  
AD PYRRHAM.
  
TO LAURA R.,
  
ARIADNE.
  
A NIGHTINGALE IN EASTBURY WOODS.
  
AFTER THE HUNGARIAN WAR.
  
OPPORTUNITY.
  
LINES AFTER MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO THE PLANET VENUS,
  
[Rarely to our mortal eyes]
  
TO THE MARCH SUN.
  
A DREAM AND NO DREAM.
  
VENIT.
  
[When I asked her, “Wilt thou kiss me?’]
  
THE GOLDEN DAYS.
  
LOVE'S CREED.
  
[On many an English lady's face]
  
EXCUSE.
  
[A presence! a glory celestial!]
  
SONG.
  
OVER THE WEST.
  
“FREI IST DER BURSCH!”
  
TO LITTLE A. C. IN THE GARDEN AT EASTBURY.
  
FOR EVER.
  
AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
AT THE SAME TIME.
  
AT NIGHT, AFTER MY SISTER'S DEATH.
  
[Why fear that the departed grieves]
  
FORD GREY OF WERKE TO HIS MISTRESS.
  
[I have a thought that fain would speak]
  
“IF IT DIE, IT BRINGETH FORTH MUCH FRUIT.”
  
MUSIC.
  
A BLIND GIRL'S QUESTIONINGS.
  
BEFORE DAWN.
  
BY THE SEASHORE.
  
A VISION.
  
[Lord, at thy feet we do not kneel]
  
THE YEAR OF LOVE.
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SONNETS.
  
A WET AUTUMN.
  
AT THE CHESHIRE POINT, LINLEY WOOD.
  
[Like a musician that with flying finger]
  
AT NIGHT.
  
MY FATHER'S DEATH.
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
GIBSON'S STATUE OF AURORA.
  
TO M. S.
  
M. S.
  
TO THE REV. JOHN HAMILTON THOM.
  
[O Muse the Comforter! that in this vale]
  
TO A LADY PREFERRING CALM TO PASSIONATE POETRY.
  
LAUDATRIX TEMPORIS ACTI.
  
MIDNIGHT ON NEW YEAR'S EVE.
  
THE TWO NIGHTS.
  
A CHRISTMAS SONNET.
  
[Sad is my lot; among the shining spheres]
  
TO A FRIEND IN GRIEF.
  
TO A FRIEND.
  
IN DEJECTION. I.
  
IN DEJECTION II.
  
I
  
II
  
III
  
DAYBREAK IN FEBRUARY.
  
SYMBOLS OF VICTORY.
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ELIDUKE, COUNT OF YVELOC.
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ACT I
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ACT II.
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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VIOLENZIA.
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ACT I.
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ACT II.
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ACT III.
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ACT IV.
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ACT V.
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[The bubble of the silver-springing waves]

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65

MUSIC.

When I am weary of the blows
Of Fate, and my dejected mind
Sees phantom forms of future woes
Still rising up behind,
Then a white hand like thine, my dear,
Flung o'er the enchanted keys,
Up and down, in joy or fear,
Is the only art to please.
Then as I lie, the winged airs,
In ranged procession holy,
Shall mount of spirit and brain the stairs,
And cast out melancholy;
Disperse the cloudy fumes of care,
And shed, from swinging hands,
Calm, and the quiet hopefulness
Of the eternal lands.
Bryn Rhedyn, September 1854.
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