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University of Virginia Library

Poems

By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed

Trench, Richard Chenevix (1807-1886)

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I.

THE STORY OF JUSTIN MARTYR.

THE MONK AND BIRD.

TO A CHILD PLAYING.

A WALK IN A CHURCHYARD.

TO MY GODCHILD,

TO AN INFANT SLEEPING.

ANTI-GNOSTICUS.

‘REJOICE EVERMORE.’

THE HERRING-FISHERS OF LOCHFYNE.

IN THE ISLE OF MULL.

AN EVENING IN FRANCE.

THE DESCENT OF THE RHONE.

ON THE PERSEUS AND MEDUSA

A VISIT TO TUSCULUM.

ON A PICTURE AT MADRID.

A LEGEND OF ALHAMBRA.

RECOLLECTIONS OF BURGOS.

A LEGEND OF TOLEDO.

AN INCIDENT VERSIFIED.

ON LEAVING ROME.

RETURNING HOME.

TO SILVIO PELLICO.

TASSO'S DUNGEON, FERRARA.

AT BRUNECKEN, IN THE TYROL.

TO THE TYROLESE.

A RECOLLECTION OF THE TYROL.

TO A LADY SINGING.

[Not Thou from us, O Lord, but we]

THE ISLAND OF MADEIRA.

TO NICHOLAS, EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.

THE CONSTITUTIONAL EXILES OF 1823.

THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY.

THE HEALING OF THE WATERS.

THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

[Some murmur, when their sky is clear]

ON AN EARLY DEATH.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

A CENTURY OF COUPLETS.

XERXES AT THE HELLESPONT.

CHARLES V. BEFORE THE CONVENT OF YUSTE, 1556.

TO A ROBIN REDBREAST,

TO MY CHILD.

NEW YEAR'S EVE.

ON THE CONSECRATION OF A NEW CHURCHYARD.

THE TEMPTATION.

ST. CHRYSOSTOM.

[Lord, weary of a painful way]

[Weep not for broad lands lost]

[This did not once so trouble me]

[Lord, many times I am aweary quite]

[If that in sight of God is great]

THE DAY OF DEATH.

THE LAW OF LOVE.

[A genial moment oft has given]

[If there had anywhere appeared in space]

‘DUST TO DUST.’

FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.

A PASSAGE FROM ST. AUGUSTINE.

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I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XII.

THE STEADFAST PRINCE.

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II.

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ORPHEUS AND THE SIRENS.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

NATURAL MYTHOLOGY.

[Oh thou of dark forebodings drear]

THE OIL OF MERCY.

THE TREE OF LIFE.

THE TREE OF LIFE.

THE HOLY EUCHARIST.

LINES WRITTEN ON THE FIRST TIDINGS OF THE CABUL MASSACRES.

IN MEMORIAM, G. P. C.

[Man, the pomp and pride of earth]

THE CURSE OF CORN-HOARDERS.

THE ETRURIAN KING.

THE PRIZE OF SONG.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES

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POEMS FROM EASTERN SOURCES

ALEXANDER AT THE GATES OF PARADISE.

FROM THE PERSIAN.

CHIDHER'S WELL.

LIFE AND DEATH.

THE BREAKER OF IDOLS.

FROM THE PERSIAN.

THE BANISHED KINGS.

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THE BALLADS OF HAROUN AL RASCHID.

I.

I THE SPILT PEARLS.

II.

II. THE BARMECIDES.

III.

III. THE FESTIVAL.

THE EASTERN NARCISSUS.

[By Grecian annals it remained untold]

MOSES AND JETHRO.

GERTRUDE OF SAXONY.

LIFE THROUGH DEATH.

THE MONK AND SINNER.

THE CERTAINTIES OF FAITH.

THE RIGHTEOUS OF THE WORLD.

THE FALCON'S REWARD.

THE CONVERSION OF ABRAHAM.

THE TRUE PILGRIM.

AN EASTERN VERSION OF THE PARABLE OF THE TALENTS.

THE VASE OF HONEY.

EASTERN MORALITIES.

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POEMS WRITTEN DURING THE RUSSIAN WAR 1854, 1855

‘WHAT THOUGH YET THE SPIRIT SLUMBERS.’

AFTER THE BATTLE.

Η ΤΑΝ, Η ΕΠΙ ΤΑΝ.

THE UNFORGOTTEN.

ON THE BREAKING OFF OF THE CONFERENCES AT VIENNA, JUNE, 1855.

THE RETURN OF THE GUARDS.

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[What, many times I musing asked, is man]

[No mother's eye beside thee wakes to-night]

[What was thy life? a pearl cast up awhile]

[This chest, a homely cabinet, although]

[Hers was a mother's heart]

[Yonder on that wall displayed]

[Men will be light of heart and glad]

[O happy days, O months, O years]

[That name! how often every day]

[Many times the morning laughs in light]

[Half unbelieving doth my heart remain]

[Where thou hast touched, O wondrous Death!]

[When its higher faith this heart denies]

[Who that a watcher doth remain]

[If our high debt of holy glee]

THE LENT JEWELS.

[O life, O death, O world, O time]

FROM THE ARABIC.

ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.

A JEWISH APOLOGUE.

ON REVISITING THE SEINE.

[This winter eve how soft! how mild!]

[O friend, it seems when first our lives begin]

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192

TO MY CHILD.

Thy gladness makes me thankful every way,
To look upon thy gladness makes me glad;
While yet in part it well might render sad
Us thinking that we too might sport and play,
And keep like thee continual holiday,
If we retained the things which once we had,
If we like happy neophytes were clad
Still in baptismal stoles of white array.
And yet the gladness of the innocent child
Has not more matter for our thankful glee
Than the dim sorrows of the man defiled;
Since both in sealing one blest truth agree—
Joy is of God, but heaviness and care
Of our own hearts and what has harboured there.