Mundi et Cordis :: :: University of Virginia Library

With her I love I enter'd a proud chamber,
Festoon'd with golden lamps, of many dies
Illumed, with pendents of rich pearl and amber;
And on the walls hung ancient tapestries,
Storied with many tales of smiles and sighs.
There, in the midst, on a low ottoman,
Sate she I loved, gazing with weeping eyes
Upon a woven mythos of Old Pan,
And Syrinx, piteous Nymph! transformed as she ran.

2

“Thou hast destroy'd me, Traitor!” wildly turning
To greet me as I pass'd, she cried aloud;
Her fine eye flashing and her fair cheek burning:
“Thou seest me here to mine own sorrows bow'd,
Thou Dreaming Falsehood! of thy falseness proud!

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Still thinking how to use me for thy lyre;
And out of my dark Passion's thunder-cloud
Lightning to draw: ay; like yon Shepherd Sire,
A living song to make of thy most dead desire.

3

“Begone!—I shall not die!”—She said; and faded,
Like to a form of mist in evening dim,
When the true vision of the eye is shaded,
And all around with spectral face and limb
The fields and woods seem ghastly. As a Hymn
Of God long sounds within the Sinner's brain
After the Airs have tomb'd its notes sublime,
Those words still shook my heart, all pierced with pain—
As haunt a Slayer's soul the last sighs of the Slain!

4

But with the solemn echoes as I quiver'd
Of that prophetic voice of her I loved,
Deep phrase of solace she I love deliver'd,
Which the infection of their grief removed.
That phrase:—“She shall not die!—Let it be proved
By entranced songs of living minstrelsy;
Which lark enclouded, nightingale engroved,
May pipe sweet concord to from earth and sky;
Whilst the World's loving hearts, in chorus soft, reply!”

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II. PREVENTION.

1.

Thou dartest the soul-laden light
Of thine emu-eyes, unpeer'd,
Upward to mine, as to invite
Answer coveted, but fear'd:
And the nectar in the flower
Hath not that alluring power
For the hived mechanic bee,
As for me
Of thy lips the honied dower,
Where, like a red flag on a tower,
Passion triumphs sanguinely.

2.

But other eyes are coldly near;
The charm ineffable is broken:

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From my entranced eyes gather, Dear!
What else were done, what else were spoken:
The holy kiss which others see
Is but a barren kiss to me.

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III. THE APPEAL.

1.

By that power which in man
The might of intellectual mind,
Which all height and depth can scan,
Still waves o'er that in woman shrined;
The sky-aspiring sympathies
That spurn this world's realities,
And from eager soul to soul
Fly in fire without controul—
Thee I summon to surrender
To the hopes which in me burn,
And drink feelings deep and tender
Heart from heart, as from an urn!

2.

I listen to thy bird-like singing
As to the music of some sphere,

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Far in the depths of azure winging
A hymning flight, which souls may hear
That at midnight muse alone
In a thought-world of their own:
'Tis laden with a mystery deep,
That falls like shadow on me—and I weep!

3.

I look into thy deep blue eyes,
And see thy soul reposing there,
Like a rainbow in the skies;
The creature of a smile and tear,
Arching o'er each azure sphere:
Oh! when shall love be closing there,
Wearied with intense delight,
As a blue flower in twilight;
Or star-fires when the moon doth peer?
I gaze upon them, till I sleep
In an inebriate dream—and through my brain doth leap

4.

A mighty torrent of imaginings,
Full-starr'd with eyes, and clothed with wings,
All-seeing, all-pervading—
Excess of light my soul is shading!

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And unless thy heart accords
That which love ne'er asks in words,
My heart, even as my lyre, will lose its strings,
And in dumb anguish die, like winter-stricken birds.

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IV. THE CUP OF JOY.

1

The cup of my joy is filling;
Thou pourest the nectar, Dear!
And the draught will be deep and thrilling
As ever the heart came near!

2

Pour on! pour on! till the rim
Be hidden with Love's strong wine:
That passion must flow o'er the brim
Which is shed from a face like thine!

3

'Tis full; I have quaff'd; and my blood
In the draught hath been madden'd and quell'd:
Still I pant for the same sweet flood,
By the thirst of my spirit impell'd!

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4

Fill high, again! fill high!
Let the nectar again gush o'er!
I faint in the fire of thine eye,
And must drain the full cup once more!

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V. THE CREED.

1

I do believe in Heaven;
'Tis written in those orbs of seeing:
A perfect creed is given
By those celestial lights, of an eternal being!

2

There's sweetness in the flowers
And hues with glowing beauty rife;
But in those eyes of yours
Floats a diviner grace, that speaks eternal life.

3

Within the stars is glory,
And evidence of Heaven and God;
But the “Hereafter” story
Burns with intenser truth in that twin-sphered abode.

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4

Yet will my creed confound me;
Its oracles are too divine:
The light they pour around me
Distracts me from the god; I but adore the shrine.

5

As you in Heaven believe,
Veil them! they are too richly clear:
Veil! and my faith reprieve—
Their light bath too much love for burning sense to bear!

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VI. LOVE'S SAFETY.

1

Love! thou tremblest like a flame
That quivers in the air of night:
Is it the breath of love, or shame,
That strikes and seals thine eyes of light?

2

Like the lark in cold air singing,
The glow-worm in the chill winds gleaming,
Dost thou quail; a sleep seems clinging
Toward thy bosom, passion-dreaming.

3

Wake! for eyes are watchful near;
Thy face betrays forbidden feeling:
Wake! for, oh! bethink thee, Dear—
Love's safety lies in love-concealing.

153

VII. THE LIFE OF FLOWERS.

1

“I would, dear Love! that I thy convert were
To that strange lore—‘The fair flowers dream and feel,
Are glad and woful, fond and scornful are;
And mutely conscious how the unresting wheel
Of Time revolveth, and doth hourly steal
Their beauty, and the heart-companionship
Of their nectarious kindred, that reveal
Their souls to sunlight, and with fragrant lip
Drink the abundant dews that from God's eyelids drip.’

2

“But then, I never dare another cull,
To crush its being, and for ever end
Its commune with its fellows beautiful:
Ah! no; presence and absence never blend
A consciousness about them; or to rend

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Love from lover, in their early wooing,
When even the rainbow their dew'd eyes transcend;
For our adornment merely—oh! 'twere doing
Sweet creatures bitter wrong, with our worst woes induing.

3

“At least, for conscience' sake, I'll not believe
That they are sensible to hearted feeling;
For in no creature's being would I weave
Those griefs which even now I am revealing
In tears and sighs, from lips and eyelids stealing—
Sad rain and wind of my heart's laden cloud!—
By which, if they do feel, with wounds unhealing
Their parted spirits must be cleft and bow'd,
Till they grew pale and sere, and wore Death's common shroud.”

4

Then—to the lover's and the poet's warning
Attend! as to a Delphic oracle:
When flowers into the grey eyes of the Morning
Peer, in awaken'd beauty, from Night's cell;
On the warm heart of Noontide when they dwell;
Or close in loveliness at Twilight's feet—
They have their thoughts and dreams; and thou dost quell

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A gentle spirit in each blossom sweet
(Which its love-conscious mates for ever pine to greet—

5

And pine in vain!) which thy small hand doth sunder
From its green birth-place!—Art of those that sleep
In common thought, to whom there is no wonder
In all the Universe sublime and deep—
Invisible and visible! There weep
Dews of a Morning round us, which must break,
And unveil all things o'er which darkly sweep
The night-shades of our ignorance. Awake!
And in this creed believe—for Love's, if not Truth's sake.

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VIII. TO A GLOW-WORM.

1

Beauty through all Being
Sheds her soul divine;
But our spirits, fleeing
Still, from shrine to shrine,
To kneel to her delights, far in the midst repine.

2

Ev'ry vision splendid
That our dim eyes greeteth,
By a cloud attended,
Its own light defeateth;
And sorrow strikes the heart from every joy it weeteth.

3

Drop of dewy light!
Liker dew than fire;
Lit to guide the flight
Of thy mate's desire;
Thou look'st a fairy robed in a moonbeam's attire.

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4

In thy leafy net-work
Thou, enshrined, dost glow,
And a beamy fretwork
O'er its verdure throw—
Thou little spirit of light, green-paradised below!

5

Twilight, the dim ghost
Of the bright day ended,
From the awful host
Of great hills descended,
Reveals thy magic lamp, by silent genii tended.

6

Beautiful the glory,
Pallid lamp of eve!
Twilight transitory
Doth from thee receive,
When deep in herbs and flowers thy splendours thou dost weave.

7

When the verdant floor
And blue vault of night
Love's star gildeth o'er
With its holy light,
Thy rays responsive glance to its aerial height.

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8

Silver-fretted clouds
In the vaulted blue,
Likest are the shrouds
Which thy beams imbue
Of lightly-stirring leaves that palace thee in dew.

9

Eyes which sorrow dampeth
With the grief of love,
That in beauty lampeth
Through their lashes, wove
With crystal tear-work, beam like thee in dewy grove.

10

When thy fires, in number,
Brightest beams retain,
Clouds break on the slumber
Of the air, in rain—
Even as too many smiles do herald tearful pain.

11

Centred in sweet bushes,
Drench'd by the fast rain,
Where thine emerald blushes,
Paled, but bright, remain,
Thou art as a calm heart which sorrows beat in vain.

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12

Round thee wild winds howl,
Dashing thee to earth;
Where thy tranquil soul,
With unalter'd mirth,
Gleams—as in our fierce world sweet innocence and worth.

13

Through the tempest loud
Thou dost calmly pierce,
From the perfumed shroud
Which thy beams immerse—
As through the storms of Time the Poet's balmy verse!

14

Beauteous as thou art,
Memory makes thee dim:
Thou disturb'st the heart,
Twilight's living gem!
And my recurring thoughts cling to a mournful theme.

15

For one vanish'd hour,
Gulf'd in the dead past,
Sighs and tears I pour
To the wave and blast;
And my recurrent soul to its own depths is cast!

160

16

Ne'er on leaf and blossom
Do thou shine again,
Till this weary bosom
Sleeps, beneath them lain;
Then nightly on my grave for epitaph remain.

161

IX. EVENING.

1.

The dews are falling, the dews are falling;
The lark is in his place of rest;
The swallows swift in the air are calling,
Intent upon their insect-quest:
Small moths o'er every bramble flit;
The ants are still their labours plying;
A massy cloud, by sunset lit,
Over the daylight's grave is lying;
And all the north is densely hid
By an air-piled cloud-pyramid—

2.

Oh! my Life's distant Spirit! wert thou near,
I would not offer up this thought-born tear
On the dim altar of my solitude;
For in the shadow of the coming Dark,

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Which on the forehead of the East doth brood,
Thine eyes were floods of joy for my soul's bark:
But in my visions lonely
Thy spectral memory only
Proffers to my mute love an unsubstantial food.

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X. A KNELL.

1.

O, how absurd to weep,
When the world is dissolving
And stars are revolving
To death,
That an insect should sleep
A slumber deep
Wherein is no vile breath!

2.

She is gone in her beauty—gone!
In the grave she is lying!
And I, on the blank earth sighing
Alone,
Despair!
Memories come blightingly o'er me;
All visions of Hope sink before me,
And the Sun seems a curse to the Air!

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3.

O, dare I my life-blood pour
On the sod of thy grave, dead Flower!
With my blood the dry earth might devour
My grief!
But dear ones yet linger beside me;
And still through all storms that betide me
Must shake my life's withering leaf!

4.

'Tis folly to weep; to weep!
Thou art but an atom, asleep.
The Universe still rolls on—
But I am alone; alone!

165

XI. THE VOW.

1

For a kiss of that blood-rich mouth,
Whence low music is faintly flowing,
I pine—and not in vain;
For the passion within me growing,
As from odorous flowers the south,
Breathes incense from my brain.

2

And a song even now is gushing
From my soul, o'er the human world,
That may not basely die!
Like the bud of the rose, unfurl'd,
Lady! why is thy fair cheek blushing?
Sweet lady! tell me why.

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3

By the youth in thy life-blood fleet!
By the love that should fill thy heart!
I'll kiss thee ere the moon
Shall to-night from the stars depart;
And thy dream shall be strange as sweet
Ere they in daylight swoon!

167

XII. CONSOLATION.

1

In the sorrow of this silence
Which I bear, from thee apart,
I know I'm present still, Dear!
With the blood in thy young heart.

2

I know that i' the morn and eve,
Whilst sitting by thy parlour-fire,
Thy thoughts still turn to me, Dear!
With the pining of desire.

3

Through the green lanes and the woodlets
As thou strayest, pensive-eyed,
I know that in thy thoughts, Dear!
I'm press'd to thy warm side.

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4

As thou pausest to converse
With the Daisy, in its quiet,
Thou pitiest my changed fate, Dear!—
Enslaved to the town's riot!

5

That universal, deathless flower,
In summer's sun and winter's weather—
The lamb of the sweet flowers, Dear!—
We oft have bless'd together.

6

It is a link between us ever;
Creator of love-presence real!
And whilst we've one to gaze on, Dear!
Absence is a thing ideal.

7

I know I'm ever with thee, Dear!
In thy heart and in thy brain;
And with the balmy knowledge, Dear!
My heart redeems its pain!

169

8

In the sorrow of this silence
Which I bear, from thee apart,
I know I'm living warm, Dear!
With the blood in thy full heart!

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XIII. THE PORTRAIT.

1

The word of thy heart hath been broken—
I wear not thy sweet picture yet;
Though with fondness the promise was spoken
Which Love cannot speak—and forget.

2

'Tis false; thine adorer blasphemes:
For what could dull painter achieve
Of portrait so true as these dreams
Of our Past in the Present can weave?

3

In my spirit thy features are drawn:
Thy lips open crimsonly there;
And thine eyes shed their full moonlight dawn
Through the rich-floating clouds of thy hair.

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4

The word of thy heart is fulfill'd;
Of thy promise the import is plain:
In my heart are thy features instill'd,
And thy form is all limn'd in my brain!

172

XIV. THE VEIL.

1

As the sun in the heaven of day,
As the moon in the sky of night,
Thou takest thy lustrous way
Through my thoughts, in thy beauty's light:

2

Shedding beauty and warmth and splendour
O'er the world of my heart and brain,
And with shadows of feeling tender
Far-streaking my memory's plain:

3

Making glitter the streams of my thought;
Expanding the flowers of my feeling,
Resplendent with sweet dews, caught
From the heaven of thy high revealing!

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4

As a glow-worm lies hid in the shroud
Of its own exceeding light;
As a planet obscured in the cloud
Which its splendour maketh bright—

5

In my thought is thy beauty conceal'd;
In my heart hides thy passion pale—
Their bright presence only reveal'd
By the glory which is their veil.

174

XV. THE HEART-THIRST.

1

I thirst for thy beauty, Dear!—
Sweet thirst in my spirit alway!
Of the flowers of my heart-spring, Dear!
The dew and the morning-ray.

2

Again to hear thee speak, Dear!
Were to wake in the music of Heaven,
When the death-sleep is taken away, Dear!
And the life that sleeps never is given.

3

Again the sight of thy smile, Dear!
Were a glance of the light of a star
Which ruleth the date of our life, Dear!
With a power that is near whilst afar.

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4

Again to see thee move, Dear!
Were to gaze on all visions of grace
Which the great bards sow thick in our air, Dear!
And our thoughts in their silence embrace.

5

Again for our hands to clasp, Dear!
For the blood in our lips to converse,
Were a touch of that mystic power, Dear!
Which kindled the Universe.

6

I thirst, I die for thy presence, Dear!
Pure thought in my spirit alway!
Of the bounding streams of my soul, Dear!
The sunlight on every spray!

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XVI. FATALISM.

1

The flower must imbibe the dews
Whenever the bright dews bead it;
To flow the stream cannot refuse
Whilst its springs with plenty feed it:

2

The crystal lakes must reflect
The clouds and the planets pale;
Trees must bend and their pride be wreck'd
In the breath of the mighty gale:

3

Air hath no power to be free
Of the cloud and the wind and the lightning,
Which it draws from the earth and sea
In the hours of its purest brightning:

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4

Earth hath no self-arm'd defence
That can guard it from heat, frost and storm,
And must quail in the influence
Sun-suck'd from its own heart warm:

5

And thy heart must shed into mine
Its joy and its grief together;
And my soul sink as deeply in thine
As the stars lie engulf'd in the ether.

6

For woe or for weal let it be,
For evil or good, life or death—
Love to us is as much a destiny
As to a babe is its breath!

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XVII. BEAUTY'S PREDICAMENT.

'Twixt Passion and Indifference Beauty sat;
Prudence to this, Love swaying her to that:
And thus Indifference with his cold mouth spoke:—
“Most easy, Lady! is my quiet yoke:
I lead thee nor to trespass nor desire;
And hold thee temperate in the midst of fire!”
Said Passion, with a voice all tremulous—
His pale cheek crimson'd, eye diaphanous:—
“O, fly me not for him to whom the sun,
Moon, stars, in their blue-bedded union,
Are but a common show; whom flowers and song
Charm to no feeling as he gropes along;
Who, meting all things with a niggard measure,
Still coldly stagnates betwixt grief and pleasure;
And, freezing, in his cell doth sleep and die,
With no heart his in all mortality!

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O, turn to me! for I can colour heaven,
And robe the grey morn and the purple even
In more than their own glory; air and skies
Fill with dream'd memories of Paradise;
And bid the earth teem with high thoughts and feelings
That for my listless foe have no revealings!
I with a word can wake heart-melody;
I with a glance can make felicity;
I with a touch can call up ecstasy!”—
And what did lady Beauty in this strait?
As Prudence bade, to where Indifference sate
She turn'd, and seem'd to move: Love nearer flew,
And an invisible chain so round her threw,
That, whilst to reach Indifference she tried,
He drew her deftly to sweet Passion's side;
And fix'd her there a prisoner, rapt and bound.
But long she breathed not on this human ground!
What chanced was sad: in that new, warm controul,
She died amid the sweets of her own soul—
Just as poor bees, in station over-sunny,
Are drown'd i' the hive of their own molten honey.

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XVIII. THAT DAY.

1

The sun, dear! the sun, dear!
Had a voice in his every ray,
To tell thee, dear! tell thee, dear!
Who was waiting for thee that day.

2

The birds were singing sweetly, dear!
Upon every sun-gilt spray;
And this said all their songs, dear!
“Why comes she not here this day?”

3

The water was rippling brightly, dear!
In its old restless way;
And every ripple laugh'd, dear!
To see me alone that day.

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4

The daisy from the grass, dear!
Peep'd up, in its own sweet way,
With a sister flower by its side, dear!
More blest than was I that day!

5

The winds were breathing sweetly, dear!
And kissing, in their warm play,
Kissing my brow and my lips, dear!
More fond than thou that day!

6

The bud on the naked bough, dear!
Seem'd to start from the old decay;
Call'd forth by the sudden shine, dear!
More inspired than thou that day.

7

The new-fallen lamb from the sod, dear!
Arose, with but brief delay;
And blithly follow'd its dam, dear!
More alive than thou that day.

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8

The clouds, dear! the clouds, dear!
Were each touch'd by a loving ray;
And I the only cloud, dear!
That sullenly look'd that day.

9

All things enjoy'd the sun, dear!
And smiled, in their spring-time way;
But I could not enjoy the sun, dear!
For the want of thy smile that day.

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XIX. A PLEA FOR ABSENCE.

1

There is ice in my heart,
There is fire in my brain:
Oh! let me depart,
Nor behold thee again!

2

Upbraid me not, Dearest!
My destiny calls me;
Not the death which thou fearest,
But oblivion appals me:

3

I would wave with the bough,
I would sing with the bird,
With the wild waters flow,
In the thunder be heard;

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4

In the sunbeams flash bright'ning,
With the flower shed perfume,
Blaze electric in lightning,
In the tempest be gloom:

5

I would breathe with the wind,
With the stars be all-seeing;
I would live in the mind
And be part of its being!

6

Then must nothing molest
The proud flight I pursue;
I shut love from my breast,
Thy dear eyes from my view:

7

But when wrung with the toil
Of the thought-weaving brain,
Round thy heart will I coil—
And ne'er leave thee again!