 | Verses of varied life |  |
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MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
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THE RIVER OF THOUGHT.
The strong River of Thought has an aye-changeful course,
Yet for ever it springs from the same changeless source
Where God-given Truth in its grandeur doth reign,
The regal physician of Man's mental pain.
Yet for ever it springs from the same changeless source
Where God-given Truth in its grandeur doth reign,
The regal physician of Man's mental pain.
Sometimes in high joyance it glideth along
With glamour of music and gladness of song:—
While borne on its bosom gay pleasure-boats sail,
Rejoicing a while in the light laughing gale.
With glamour of music and gladness of song:—
While borne on its bosom gay pleasure-boats sail,
Rejoicing a while in the light laughing gale.
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Sometimes like the stream which has sunk under ground,
Yet still keeps its course mid the darkness profound,
Unknown and alone it must hold on its way,
Till emerging at length in the full light of day.
Yet still keeps its course mid the darkness profound,
Unknown and alone it must hold on its way,
Till emerging at length in the full light of day.
Sometimes like the mountain's fierce torrent it flows,
And all that can hinder its progress o'erthrows;—
Possessing the power of immutable right,
And strong in the strength of invincible might.
And all that can hinder its progress o'erthrows;—
Possessing the power of immutable right,
And strong in the strength of invincible might.
Crass Ignorance surely succumbs to its sway,
As boldly it takes its all-conquering way,—
While keen-sighted Knowledge appears in its train,
The sweetener of pleasure, the soother of pain.
As boldly it takes its all-conquering way,—
While keen-sighted Knowledge appears in its train,
The sweetener of pleasure, the soother of pain.
Unceasingly hated by many, yet some
Unceasingly love it, though oft they are dumb.
Yet whatever betides, and wherever it flows,
'Tis the noble who love it, the weak who oppose
Unceasingly love it, though oft they are dumb.
Yet whatever betides, and wherever it flows,
'Tis the noble who love it, the weak who oppose
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Great River of Thought! our strange world doth not know
The evil you check, and the good you bestow:—
May Time teach the lesson, 'twill then comprehend
How well and how often you prove its true friend.
The evil you check, and the good you bestow:—
May Time teach the lesson, 'twill then comprehend
How well and how often you prove its true friend.
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SONNETS ON THE POWER OF THOUGHT.
ASPIRATIONS.
O for the feelings which abide
Within the poet's mind,
That softly through his bosom glide
And leave strange joy behind!
Within the poet's mind,
That softly through his bosom glide
And leave strange joy behind!
O for a little of the power
Strong, piercing, pure and clear,
Which is his ever-potent dower,
To reach the cold world's ear!
Strong, piercing, pure and clear,
Which is his ever-potent dower,
To reach the cold world's ear!
O for a little of the fruit
Untinged with earthly leaven,
Not fame alone, nor vain repute,
But something caught from Heaven.
Untinged with earthly leaven,
Not fame alone, nor vain repute,
But something caught from Heaven.
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Assurance that one's strain has cheered
Even though it be but one,
And shed on the dark path he feared
A little glimpse of sun.
Even though it be but one,
And shed on the dark path he feared
A little glimpse of sun.
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VERSES OF TRAVEL.
THE SOUTHERN NIGHT.
Ah! how unlike the Southern night
To that of Northern skies,
Where tedious twilight mocks its flight
And day but slowly dies!
For there pale Eve's star-studded veil
O'er all is swiftly cast,
Peace seemeth wafted on the gale;—
Care for a while is past.
To that of Northern skies,
Where tedious twilight mocks its flight
And day but slowly dies!
For there pale Eve's star-studded veil
O'er all is swiftly cast,
Peace seemeth wafted on the gale;—
Care for a while is past.
Chorus.
O! the mellow Southern summer's night,How sweet it is to stray
Mid scenes which the moonbeam's fairy light
Makes lovelier far than day!
How fair the widely-stretching woods,
That clothe the spacious plain;
While Silence, queen-like, o'er them broods
In solitary reign:—
How fair the river's crystal thread,
Seen faintly from afar,
And glimmering pure as on it shed
Are gleams from many a star!
That clothe the spacious plain;
While Silence, queen-like, o'er them broods
In solitary reign:—
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Seen faintly from afar,
And glimmering pure as on it shed
Are gleams from many a star!
Chorus.
O! the mellow Southern summer's night, etc.
How fair perchance the mountains lie,
Though distant wondrous clear,
Their snow-wrapt peaks against the sky
Viewed dimly tier on tier;—
How fair the sleeping landscape seems,
While here and there are heard
Sounds breathing music's softest dreams
Or laughter-laden word!
Though distant wondrous clear,
Their snow-wrapt peaks against the sky
Viewed dimly tier on tier;—
How fair the sleeping landscape seems,
While here and there are heard
Sounds breathing music's softest dreams
Or laughter-laden word!
Chorus.
O! the mellow Southern summer's night, etc.100
TOLEDO IN 1879.
Toledo! what a mint of memories,
Of olden tale and legend, round the name
Are clustered! Mingled with such dreams as these
Come flashes of its brilliant blades of fame.
Of olden tale and legend, round the name
Are clustered! Mingled with such dreams as these
Come flashes of its brilliant blades of fame.
How proudly must old kings in joy have thought
Of their fair city fitted to be great,
Placed on a hill, by streams surrounded! Naught,
Deemed they, can alter now its high estate.
Of their fair city fitted to be great,
Placed on a hill, by streams surrounded! Naught,
Deemed they, can alter now its high estate.
Ah! most imperial it must once have seemed,
When capital of many a mighty power,
And Spanish sunshine in its fierceness gleamed
On lofty battlement and soaring tower.
When capital of many a mighty power,
And Spanish sunshine in its fierceness gleamed
On lofty battlement and soaring tower.
In days when from the ‘Sun-gate’
oft at morn
Issued a goodly Moorish martial train
Of turbaned knights, ere starting sternly sworn
To conquer for the Crescent more of Spain.
Issued a goodly Moorish martial train
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To conquer for the Crescent more of Spain.
With scimitars unsheathed swift rode they forth,
Not seldom causing terror all around
Among the peasants,—as towards the north
They rode, with Burgos as their utmost bound.
Not seldom causing terror all around
Among the peasants,—as towards the north
They rode, with Burgos as their utmost bound.
Then afterwards returning, Victory
Attendant on their standards, with what joy
Would comrades greet them who had come to see
Night's cooling wings Day's sultriness destroy!
Attendant on their standards, with what joy
Would comrades greet them who had come to see
Night's cooling wings Day's sultriness destroy!
And when the sixth Alonso
conquered it,
Forcing it back into the Christian fold,
Made statelier still, 'twas deemed the seat of wit,
Its people's speech the nation's purest mould.
Forcing it back into the Christian fold,
Made statelier still, 'twas deemed the seat of wit,
Its people's speech the nation's purest mould.
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When in more recent days the Spanish name
Had grown the most renowned of all the world,
St. Quentin and Lepanto knew the aim
Of keen Toledan darts at foemen hurl'd.
Had grown the most renowned of all the world,
St. Quentin and Lepanto knew the aim
Of keen Toledan darts at foemen hurl'd.
All these reflections come in ceaseless train,
While gazing sadly on its fell decay.
I feel not shame that it has given me pain
To think its relics soon must pass away.
While gazing sadly on its fell decay.
I feel not shame that it has given me pain
To think its relics soon must pass away.
Farewell, far-famed Toledo! I shall ne'er
Forget thy mien,—appearing as indeed
Plunged in the deepest sleep. Few could repair
Spain's ancient cities; Life is what they need.
Forget thy mien,—appearing as indeed
Plunged in the deepest sleep. Few could repair
Spain's ancient cities; Life is what they need.
There is an anachronism here which it is hoped will be pardoned for the sake of the symmetry of the piece. Alonso VI. flourished in the eleventh century, Cervantes in the fourteenth.
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CINTRA in 1879.
Cintra, our Byron gave thy name to fameBy his description grand, and sweet, and true;
But though thy ‘mountain's ever beauteous brow’
And many other objects are unchanged,
Yet altered are full many of the scenes
On which the poet looked, and mused and sang.
No ‘frugal monks their little relics show’
To strangers at ‘Our Lady's house of woe.’
One sees their tiny cells, their cork-wood walls,
Honorius's cave, and that is all.
The former home of ‘England's wealthiest son’
No longer has its ‘portals gaping wide,’
Its ‘halls deserted,’ or great ‘giant weeds’
Within its garden ground:—but it is fair,
Fair as the lordly traveller declared
It was of yore. While ‘Marialva's dome’
Is changed in that 'tis now historical,
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Its interest was eclipsed by other themes
Of ever-varying War:—the deed performed
Within its gates too recent not to be
Left unto record of the daily gossip,
And comments of the press which rarely live.
All now is different:—a classic scene
Thou standest, Cintra, clothed with more of fame
(To English minds at least) from Byron's words
Than from thy matchless beauty, could that be.
And mayhap, in the years to come, some poet
Treading the self-same scenes will tell how one,
A writer of poor verses, tried to tell
What changes there had been since Byron wrote;
And he, in turn, with glowing eloquence
Will paint with poet's art the tide of Change
On Cintra since these lines were given forth.
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GIBRALTAR.
1880.
‘Sweet Seville’
has been sung—and Cadiz too
By Byron, for the beauty of her girls,—
Yet know I not that one hath given thy due
To thee on whose proud crest the cloud-wreath curls.
By Byron, for the beauty of her girls,—
Yet know I not that one hath given thy due
To thee on whose proud crest the cloud-wreath curls.
Let me attempt thy praise, then, for I know
That worthier pens will write of foreign towns,—
For now no place has praise with us, if so
It be mayhap a jewel of our Crown's.
That worthier pens will write of foreign towns,—
For now no place has praise with us, if so
It be mayhap a jewel of our Crown's.
‘Sweet Seville's’ Guadalquivir, famed in song,
Is nothing save a nearly stagnant stream.
The beauty of the Cadiz maiden throng
Exists,—but in a ‘poet's airy dream.’
Is nothing save a nearly stagnant stream.
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Exists,—but in a ‘poet's airy dream.’
Here in Gibraltar all retains an air
Of honest truth. Odourless streets are clean,
And everything is made the most of, where
Man's art avails to soften down the scene.
Of honest truth. Odourless streets are clean,
And everything is made the most of, where
Man's art avails to soften down the scene.
The gardens of the Alameda, full
Of semi-tropic plants and shady trees,
Pleasant to lounge in their recesses cool
On summer eves to catch the soft sea-breeze.
Of semi-tropic plants and shady trees,
Pleasant to lounge in their recesses cool
On summer eves to catch the soft sea-breeze.
Yet great the toil and patience must have been
Before at last was made such rocky ground
To nourish shrub, or plant, or aught of green.
Cheering it is to hear the home-like sound
Before at last was made such rocky ground
To nourish shrub, or plant, or aught of green.
Cheering it is to hear the home-like sound
Of English tongues,—to see our cared-for men,—
Contrasted with the Spaniards wan and weak,
Guarding their posts, as they with eager ken
Look on our cannon, which have but to speak—
Contrasted with the Spaniards wan and weak,
Guarding their posts, as they with eager ken
Look on our cannon, which have but to speak—
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To put their lines to rout.
How lovely gleams
The Rock at sunrise! The grey looming clouds
Glow in the new-born light like glorious dreams,
While Shadow still the tranquil bay enshrouds.
The Rock at sunrise! The grey looming clouds
Glow in the new-born light like glorious dreams,
While Shadow still the tranquil bay enshrouds.
Ay, grim Gibraltar, thou indeed art fair!
And more than that, a place in which one may
Live with true home-like comfort, and a share
Of a good climate, brightening Life's dull day.
And more than that, a place in which one may
Live with true home-like comfort, and a share
Of a good climate, brightening Life's dull day.
A conspicuous row of white stone sentry-boxes are erected at the extremity of Spanish territory, and from them Spanish soldiers continually watch us. Doubtless they are within easy range of our artillery, and it is equally certain that were we to fire on them, they have no guns in position with which to answer us.
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