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Full text of "The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson"

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HARVARD COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 




FROM THE LIBRARY OF 

MRS. MARY M. BARCLAY 

□f St. Louis, MiuouH 



DR. JULIUS HOWARD PRATT 

MRS. LUCY E. MCCLELLAND 

Dr. ROBERT BARCLAY 



October 14, 1926 




1 



V ;, ■ - ; •• V ■. 






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# it 






".. \ ■ ^i-\Llj.\'2'j.0'S, 73v iS;;oM:;\v-\v, 






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*^: .«*-%i« •• 1. . ■!..-»•-.«- .., 



; . i\- . ■ . r. 



• w^. ,-*.«».»''.^*"-'*i.*. 



THE 



X3MPLETE WORKS 



OF 



ALFRED TENNYSON, 

POET LAUR^ATR. 



ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 



k 



NEW YORK: 

R. WORTHINGTON, 750 Broadway. 

1880. 




■ 1 ; 






J I 



^./:os{ . 



^A-^V 









MIV^BOnJlUOttltiilii, 

KU. HAfiV a. SAICLiV 
OCtOltfli 14. i>it 



PUHTlNa »ND BOOKBINDIHG COHMMT, 



CONTENTS. 



rAov. 

To the Qneen v i r 

Olarlbel 1 

Ullan 1 

Jsabel 1 

Mariana 2 

To 2 

Madaline li 

Song — The Owl 3 

Second Song 3 

RecoP.ection of the Arabian 

Nights 4 

Ode to Memory 5 

Song C 

Adeline 6 

A Character 7 

The Poet. 7 

ThePoet*BMind 8 

The Sea-fairies 8 

The Deserted House 9 

The Dying Swan 9 

A Dirge 9 

Loye and Death 10 

The Ballad of Oriana 10 

Circumstance It 

The Merman 11 

'rhe Mermaid 11 

Sonnet to J. M. K 12 

The Lady of Shalott 12 

Mariana in the South 14 

Ele&nore 15 

The Miller's Daughter 16 

Fatima 18 

CEuone 18 

IheSisters 22 

To 22 

Ihe Palace of Art 22 

Lady Clara Vere de Vere 26 

The May Queen 26 

New-year's Eve 27 

Conclusion 28 

The Lotos-Eaters 29 

Choric Song 29 

A Dream of Fair Women 31 

Maxmret 34 

TheBlackbird 35 

The Death of the Old Year 35 

ToJ.S 3G 



Song : ** You ask me, why tho» ill 

at ease," 36 

** ** Of old sat freedom on the 

heights," 37 

" " Love thou thy land, with 

love far-brought " 37 

The Goose 38 

TlieEpic 38 

Morte d' Arthur 39 

The Gardener's Daughter ; or the 

Pictures 43 

Dora 47 

Audley Court 49 

Walking to tlie Mail 50 

Edwin Morris ; or the Lake 52 

St. Simeon Stylites 54 

The Talking Oak 6G 

Ix)ve and Duty 59 

The Golden Year , 60 

Ulysses ci 

Locksley Hall, 62 

Godiva 66 

The Two Voices 67 

The Daydream :— 

Prologue 71 

The Sleeping Palace 71 

The Sleaping Beauty 72 

The AiTi val 72 

The Revival 72 

The Departure 72 

Moral 73 

L'Envol 73 

Epilogue 73 

Aniphion 74 

St. Agnes Eve 74 

SirGalaliad 75 

Edward Gray 75 

Will Waterproof's Lyrical Mono- 
logue 76 

To , after reading a Life and 

Letters 78 

To E. L., on his travels in Greece 78 

Lady Clare 78 

The Lord of Burleigh 79 

Sir Lancelot and Queen Guine-^ 

vere 80 

A Farewell ^ 



^ 




gl-».VgZ.f7.3 iJ 



iwfivupci) ccuToc ttaRiitr 

Hn. K«IV M. MMUV 



Pkuitinc and Book bin Dtnc Compatit, 



CONTENTS. 



rAov. 

To the Queen vi r 

Claribel 1 

Ulian 1 

Isabel 1 

Mariana '2 

To 2 

Madaline 3 

Song — The Owl 3 

Second Song 3 

BecoP.ection of the Arabian 

Nights 4 

OdetoMemory 6 

Song 6 

Adeline 6 

A Character 7 

The Poet. 7 

The Poet's Mind 8 

The Sea-fairies 8 

The Deserted House 9 

The Dying Swan 9 

A Dirge 9 

Love and Death 10 

The Ballad of Oriana 10 

Circumstance 11 

The Merman 11 

The Mermaid 11 

Sonnet to J. M. K 12 

The Lady of Shalott 12 

Mariana in the South 14 

Ele&nore 15 

The Miller's Daughter 16 

Fatima 18 

CEuone 18 

IheSisters 22 

To 22 

The Palace of Art 22 

Lady Clara Vere de Vere 26 

XheMay Queen 26 

New-year's Eve 27 

Conclusion 28 

The Lotos-Eaters 29 

Choric Song 29 

A Dream of Fair Women 31 

Margaret Zi 

TheBlackbird 35 

The Death of the Old Year 35 

ToJ.S 3G 



Song : ** You ask me, why tho* ill 

at ease," 36 

** " Of old sat freedom on the 

heights," 37 

** •* Love thou thy land, with 

love far-brought " 37 

The Goose 38 

TlieEpic 38 

Morte d'Arthur 39 

The Gardener's Daughter ; or the 

Pictures 43 

Dora 47 

Audley Court 49 

AVaikingtotheMail 60 

Edwin Morris ; or the Lake 52 

St. Simeon Stylites 64 

The Talking Oak 66 

Ix)ve and Duty 69 

The Golden Year 60 

Ulysses 61 

Locksley Hall, 62 

Godlva 66 

The Two Voices 67 

The Daydream :— 

Prologue 71 

The Sleeping Palace 71 

The Sleaping Beauty 72 

The AiTi val 72 

The Revival 72 

The Departure 72 

Moral 73 

L'Envol 73 

Epilogue 73 

Amphion 74 

St. Agnes Eve 74 

Sir Galaliad 75 

Edward Gray 73 

Will Waterproof's Lyrical Moiio> 

logue 76 

To , after reading a Life and 

Letters 78 

To E. L., on his travels in Greece 78 

Lady Clare 78 

The Lord of Burleigh 79 

Sir Lancelot and Queen Guine-^ 

vere 80 

AFarewell ^ 



^ 




CMft 



iDtemi^Dnal Eibiultlofl... 



TlireoS 



M»ud 

The Brook : mi Idjl 

TUB iMtWa 

Ode (in Iha Uefttll i)l 

Welllngwn 

Tl>« Tutu; 



le Duke ol 



LhsUaT. F. U-MauiicB I 

"1 1 

ChHrpi □[ the Uglil Brlsode 1 

(lamorlam 1 

lliePiinceHi B Medley I 

" ■ ■ dPii 1 

Flalcl 1 



in Mamorlam. 

— e PiincH 

oehArdi 

Sea Dreai 

The OratiamoiDfli 

TJnrthern Firmer, 

ThBVi 



d itfla. 

... theVmllar oC CBUtareti. .. 

mie Flower 

Benuifsac 

ThflSsilor Boy 



ig: " Lwlj, let iba railing ■ 



<y broaebt Mm 

Song : " More eastward, kappf 

Song: " Brenk, lireDf, break," .. S 

Tlie Foat'« Soiig ! 

OiiaMoumflr S 

Nonlwrn Farmer, Kew Btjle 1 



lUBTBrr Sqa, 
avis nf the 1 



Getaliit itiid EtiM 

Mac [In Biid Vivien 

I^ncelDt and Rlalno , . , 

TheHoly nmll 

FellraeaiidEtUirre ... 
The LuCToumainent. 



BpocimBii i>f a 

tha Iliad In 

ISOS— 1S6S 



Bong: -My llto is fi 



r4-- -—-___ 







/- 



e 



r2^M:i^y'u^^ 




).£o^. 



TO THE QUEEN. 



Rbvebed, beloved — O you tliat hold 

A nobler office upon earth 

Than arms, or power of brain, or birth 
Could give the warrior kings of old, 

Tictoria, — since your Royal grace 
To one of less desert allows 
This laurel greener from the brows 

Of him that utter*d nothing base ; 

And should your greatness, and the care 
That yokes with empire, yield you timo 
To make demand of modem rhyme 

If aught of ancient worth be there ; 

Then — while a sweeter music wakes. 
And thro* wild March the throstle calls* 
Where all about your palace-walls 

The sun-lit almond-blossom shakes — 

Take, Madam, this poor book of song ; 
For tho* the faults were thick as dust 
In vacant chambers, I could trust 

Toot kindness. May you mle ub long, 




^ 



k 



TO THE QUEEy. 
nd le>re u> rul*n o[ youi- lAooA 
Aa nobis 111! Uie latest any I 
Na.j cMldran at our clillilreu say, 
iglit lier people InsLbig gooil 



•Sbo 



In har iia MoUiar. Wife B 



■vnm knew the aeiiaoiii wUen to 
Oecailoii vy tlie li*iid, &n<l mukc 
The iMuniU ol freedom wider yet 



\VUcli kept licr tbroiie uuthakcn itlll, 
BroDd-bascd upon lice people'i will; 
And compau'd b; tlie Invloluto saa.' 



POEMS. 



CLARIBEL. 

A VEL0D7. 
I. 

Whebe Claribel low-lieth 
The breezes pause and die. 
Letting the rosehleayes fall ; 
Bat the solemn oak-tree sigheth, 
Thlck-leayed, ambrosial, 
"With an ancient melody 
Of an inward agonv, 
Where Claribel low-Uetlu 

ir. 
At eye the beetle boometh 

Athwart the thicket lono : 
At noon the wild bee hummeth 

About the moss'd headstone : 
At midnight the moon cometh. 

And iooketh down alone, 
ner song the lintwhite swelleth, 
Use clear-yoiced mavis dwelleth, 

The callow throstle lispeth, 
The slumbrous wave outwelleth, 

The babbling runnel crispeth, 
The hollow grot replieth 
"Wliere Claribel low-lieth. 



rr. 

Praying All I can, 
If prayers will not hush tho«, 

Airy Lilian. 
Like a rose-leaf I will crush thoe. 

Fairy Lilian. 



LILIAN. 

I. 

AiiiT, fairy Lilian, 

Flittinff, fairy Lilian, 
When I ask her if she love me, 
Claps her tiny hands above me. 

Laughing all she can ; 
8he*ll not tell me if she love me, 

Cruel little Lilian. 

IT. 

When my passion seeks 

Pleasance in love-sinhf^. 
She, looking thro* and thro* me 
Thoroughly to undo me. 

Smiling, never speaks : 
So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, 
Prom beneath her gatlier'd wlmplo 
Glancing with black-beaded eyes, 
Till tlie lightning laughters dimple 

The baby-roses in lier cheeks ; 

Then away she Hies. 

III. 

Prythee weep, May Lilian ! 
GayetY wiuiout eclipse 

Wearietn me. May Lilian : 
Thro' my very heart it thrilletli 

When from crimson-threaded lips 
SfWer-treble laughter trilleth : 

PxyflMe weepi May lAliaw. 



ISABEL. 

I. 

Etes not down-dropt nor over bright^ 
but fed 
With the clear-pointed flame oi 

chastity. 
Clear, witnout heat, undying, 
tended by 
Pure vestal thoughts in the 
translucent fane 
Of her still spirit; locks not wide- 
dispread, 
]VIadonna-wise on either side her 

bead: 
Sweet lips whereon perpetually 
did reign 
The summer calm of golden charity. 
Were fixed shadows of tiiy fixed mood, 
lievered Isabel, the crown and 
head. 
The stately flower of female fortitude. 
Of perfect wifehood and pure low- 
lihead. 

ir. 

The intuitive decision of a bright 
And thorough-edged intellect to part 
Error from crime ; a prudence to 

withhold ; 
The laws of marriage charactered 
in gold 
Upon the blanched tablets of her 
heart ; 
A love still burning upward, givin* 
light 
To read those laws ; an accent very 

low 
In blandishmeAt, but a most silver 
flow 

Of subtle-paced counsel in dis- 
tress, 
lUght to the heart and brain, tho* 
undescried. 
Winning its way with extreme 
gentleness 
Thro* all the outworks of suspicious 

pride; 
A courage to endure and to obey : 
A hate of gOBBlp paxloaiQ^, «aA q1 
sway, 



/ 




Crowii'd latLbel, UiKi- ftll her pUdd 
Tbe queen of toarriaE«, n moat per- 



The vexed odOles ot lis wavward 

brother : 
A leaning »nd npboarinB parmUo, 
CloEhing the stum, vbTcli else luul 



Of rich fmlt-bnnclioa leaning o; 
Sbailov fortli thoe: — tha woili 



MARLiNA. 

WrrahlaolteBt mow the flower-ploUi 

Were tbiek It crusted, one aiidnlt : 
The luited nuilii fell from the iLnots 

That held the pear to the Eal>lo-nnI1. 
The brokflD ohedfl loolc'a and aud 
Etiance ; 

milfUd wu the cllnklns latch ; 

'We^ed aiirl worn the uiciont Ihatcli 
Coon the loualy mnaled aroneo. 

"'• '■■ »dd, " My life 6 drellry. 



Bhfl only edd, " My li. 

Ho Cometh not,"^ah( 
Sheaaid, "I em owoary, nwcnrj 

1 would that I were dead I " 



When thicken daik did ti 



jtd einnced athi 
flats. 
She only said, 
draaiy, 
Ho Cometh th 



tJponll: 

Watli 



"Tbs night is 
," ebe said : 
'"■""■J" ???,"'■' 
;he nlEht. 
i the Dlght-Iowl 

ihour ore llgJit : 



Till cold winds woke lbs grvj-ejei 

About the lonely moated cranco. 

She only snld, '■ The clay la dreair, 

ShOBB 



I would th 



vereifeuil" 



A Bloli^a with biacKened water 

knU o'er it many, round and small, 
The cluater-d marlnb-moeaea crept. 
Sard by a poplsi eb[K>k Blway, 
All allTer-'green with guatleil bafk 
For leagues no other tree did marl 
ITiolevelwaBls, the roundlna gray. 
Eb« only aald. "My life la dinarj 
lieeometbKoVsheaaldi 



Andai 



liTlllwUidan'oreup and awaj, 
.to cuTt^iin, 10 aiEdfn, 
the glisty sbodow awny. 

d wlndB bouud within their 



The shai; 






fell 



, „.suid; 

She utld, " I am aweary, aweoir, 

All day wltUln the dreamy houao, 
The blue dy sung la tiu 
Behind the mouldeiing ttidneci 



the 



Orfroi 



, the CI 



d Inces gllmniei'd thro' the doors, 
uiii footstona trod the upper iloors. 
Id roleea eafled hot from without. 

Bhs only said, "My Ufoiadreaiy, 
He Cometh not," she said ; 

Bho BAid, *' I am aweary, aweary, 

he Bparrow^H chirrup ou the roof, 
The alow clock Ucklng, and lbs 



Lt moat she loathed 



CLGAn-nEAIlI 

Edged w'ith 



ihe, "1 am very Utearr, 
Kcoma.-ahHBaidi 
I am aweary, aireary. 



Lid, whole joyfoJ 
> Inugbter, cull 



SONG.-^TUE OWL. 



8 



Tlie knots that tangle human creeds. 
The wounding cords that bind and 
strain 

The heart until it bleeds, 
Eay-f ringed eyelids of the mom 

Boof not a glance so keen as thine : 

If aught of prophecy be mine, 
Thou -mlt not live in vain. 

II. 
Low-cowering shall the Sophist sit ; 
Falsehood shall bare her plaited 

brow : 
Fair-fronted Truth shall droop not 
now 
With shrilling shafts of subtle wit. 
Kor martyr-flames, nor trenchant 
swords 
Can do away that ancient lie ; 
A gentler death shall Falsehoo<l die. 
Shot thro' and thro' with cunning 
words. 

III. 
Weak Truth a-leanine on her crutch. 
Wan, wasted Truth in her utmost 

need, 
Thy kingly intellect shall feed, 
Until she be an athlete bold, 
And weary with a finger's touch 
Those writhed limbs of lightning 
speed ; 
Like that strange angel which of 
old, 
Until the breaking of the light, 
Wrestled with wandering Israel, 
Past Yabbok brook the livelong 
night. 
And heaven's mazed signs stood still 
In the dim tract of Penuel. 



MADELINE 

I. 
TH017 art not steep'd in golden 
languors. 
No tranced summer calm is thine, 

Ever varying Madeline. 
Thro' light and shadow thou dost 

range. 
Sudden glances, sweet and strange, 
Delicious spites and darling angers, 
And airy forms of flitting change. 

II. 
Smiling, frowning, evermore. 
Thou art perfect In love-lore. 
Revealings deep and clear are thine 
Of wealthy smiles : but who may know 
Whether smile or frown be fleeter? 
Whether smile or frown be sweeter. 

Who may know ? 
Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow 
light-ffloomins over eyes divine, 
like little clouds sun-fringed, are 
thine. 
Ever varying Madeline. 
Thy smile and frown are not aloof 
From one another. 
Each to each is dearest brother ; 
Hues of the silken sheeny woof 
Momently, shot Into each other. 



All the mystery Is thine ; 
Smiling, frowning, evermore, 
Thou art perfect m love-lore, 

Ever varying Madeline. 

III. 
A subtle, sudden-flame, 
By veering passion f ann'd. 

About thee breaks and dances ; 
When I would kiss thy hand, 
The flush of anger'd shame 

O'erflows thy calmer glances. 
And o'er black brows drops down 
A sudden-curved frown : 
But when I turn away. 
Thou, willing me to stay, 
Wooest not. nor vainly wranglest ; 

But, looking flxedly the while. 
All my bounding heart entanglesfc 
In a golden-netted smile ; 
Then in madness and in bliss. 
If my lips should dare to kiss 
Thy taper fingers amorously. 
Again thou blushcst angerly ; 
And o'er black brows drops down 
A sudden-curved frown. 



SONG.— THE OWL. 

I. 
When cats run home and light Is coki«^ 

And dew is cold upon the ground, 

And the far-off stream is dumb, 

And the whirring sail goes round ; 

And the whirring Bail goes round ; 

Alone and warming his five wits, 

The white owl in the belfry sits. 

II. 
When merry milkmaids click the latch. 
And rarely smells the new-mown 
hay, 
And the cock hath sung beneath the 
thatch 
Twice or thrice his roundelay, 
Twice or thrice his loun delay ; 
Alone and warming his live wita. 
The white owl in the belfry sits. 



SECOND SONG. 

TO THE SAME. 
I. 

Thy tuwhits are lull'd, I wot. 
Thy tuwhoos of yesternight, 
Which upon the dark afloat. 

So took echo with delight. 

So took echo with delight. 
That her voice untunef ul grown. 
Wears all day a fainter tone. 

II. 

I would mock thy chant anew ; 

But I cannot mimic it ; 
Not a whit of thy tuwhoo. 
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit. 
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit. 
With a lengthen'd loud halloo, 
Tuwhoo, tuwhit, ta^hit., \3Qp 
"Whoo-o^. 




THE AIUBIAX XIGHTS. 






brscie ol n Jojlol dam 



blav free 
In Uia alUien asil ot InCiuiFy, 
Tbs lids o( lime flow'd bock trith m 

TbB forwunl-nowlng tide o( time; 
And muiya sheenTRumtner^aom, 
Aiinuti iha Tlntiii I wM bonio, 
Grilles ot fretted gt 



Br Bogdnt'B 1 



icfa-WBlled i^uilens green ani 



leold, 



Ini> 



Antgbt my sballop, rtistllni; Ihio' 
Thelow and bloomed foliaga, dtovo 
Tlie instant, Elisteulug daepB, and 

The dlron-iihBdowi In Iho blue : 
Bt garden |)orcb« on (Ua brimj 



costly Soon flnng open wLda, 

, elitteHna thni' lampltght dim, 

bmldcr'iraofKi on each Bide : 



Of gooil Harouu AlroAcMd- 
Ofton, irbera cleoi^teiiiiii'd platans 
"Tt, did 1 



TboboAt-bcAd down a brood ca 

From IhB mnlti r 

Tbeiloplnaot tl 
Was tlamegic-warlc, a 
Ot btaided blooms 

Adowii to nbere tbe -mtter elDpt 

A goodly place, a Boodly ilmo. 

For it wna in the guidon pcJmr 

01 good Uaroiiu AlraicUid. 



My sluillap ibi-o* tbo suc-sttowu calm. 
Until nnoUiBr nlEbt in nigbc 
I entar*d, fiom tuB elearecligbt. 
Imbower'd vsuIlBoI plliar'd palm. 
Imprisoning ewaeti, wlilcli, us they 

clomb 
HesTcnwanl, wore Etay'd benoath tbo 

Ot boUon- bongbs. — A goodlj-limfl, 
rot It was ill lie anidaii iTline 
Of good Uacouu Alraecbid. 

Still onward; and tbe clnar canal 

Is roundod to as olpar a Inlio. 

Prom the cteen rivMro miiiy a fall 

Of diamond rlllets mnsica^ 

Tbro' Utila cryilfll 



Down (roi 



iKou 



ilia iparkllnx DlnU b'enealli the pruw. 
A goodly plaee, a goodly tlma» 

Ot gwd Uaraun Alraacbid. 



■Wnnder'd engraln'd. On either dito 
All round about tbe fragrant marge 

Bowen large. 



■With odor in OiegolJan. 

Of good Haroun Alrnschid. 

"ere tbe lemon giOTB 

„ ot middle nlgbt 

Died round tlie bulbul as he taag ; 
Xo^ he: but comeUilnB which po» 






The darknen of the world, dellEht, 
Life, anguiBh. death, immorial E>re, 
CaaaliiB not, mingled, nnreprcsa'd. 
Apart f mm place, withholding time, 



iU Alfasehiii. 



Blacli tbe garden _ 
Slnmbcr'd : tha a 



And, Honing rapidly lietween 
Tbuir IntetHpacait connterehanged 
Tbe level Infie <*Uli dlamond-flols 
Ot dai'lt and bright. A lovely lime, 
Focltwasin tbe golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraachid. 
Dark-bine ibe deep apUere overhead. 
Distinct with vivid slara inlaid. 
Grew darker from that under-dam* : 
So, leaping llghUy from Ihoboat, 
With silver oucboc left adoat, 
In marvel nbonce that glory came 
Upon tae, as in sleep I EOuk 
In cool soft turf Qtaon tbe bank, 
i:Dtiiineedwlth ihatptoee anil time. 
So wortliT of the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Aln— ■■■ ' 
Thoncn tbro" the gnnlen 



'.L^lit 



drawT 



.hadow-rbequcr'd Ian 
:y'»BtlllY sound, 
myrrb-tbickole blowbig 



> city 



Graven with ei 



id obelliba 
: the tin 



Of gooV Harouu Alnucidd. 
With dazed vision nnnwHrES 

Em^eed, I camo UBOiA'bo'^'at 

pavilTonottUeCalipliat. 

Bight Id Iho carveii cedam doon, 

Flung Inward over epaugJed floors, 

]3roBdJ>as4d fiialits of marble itain 

llnnupnltb golden baliutrnde, 



ODE TO MEMORY. 



5 



The fourscore windows all alight 
As with the. quintessence of flame, 
A million tapers flaring bright 
From twisted silvers look'ato shame 
The hollow-vaulted dark, and stream'd 
Upon the mooned domes aloof 
In inmost Bagdat, till there seem'd 
Hundreds of crescents on the roof 

Of night new-risen, that marrelloufl 
time 

To celebrate the golden prime 
Of good Harouu Alrascliid. 

Then stole I up. and trancedly 
Gazed on the Persian eirl alone, 
Serene with argent-lidaed eyes 
Amorous, and lashes like to rays 
Of darkness, and a brow of pearl 
Tressed with redolent ebony, 
lu many a dark delicious curl, 
flowing beneath her rose-hued zone ; 
The sweetest lady of the time, 
"Well worthy of the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 

Six columns, three on either side. 
Pure silver, underpropt a rich 
Throne of the massive ore, from which 
Down-droop*d, in many a floating fold, 
Enearlanded ai}d diaper'd 
y^uh. inwrought flowers, a cloth of 

gold. 
Thereon, his deep eye laughter^tirr'd 
With merriment of Kingly pride. 
Sole star of all that place and time, 
I saw him— in his golden prime, 
Ths Good Haboun Alraschid ! 



ODE TO MEMORY. 

I. 

THOtr who stealest fire, 
From the fountains of the past, 
To glorify the present : O, haste. 

Visit my low desire I 
Strengthen me, enlighten me ! 
I faint in this obscurity. 
Thou dewy dawn of memory. 

n. 

Come not as thou camestof late. 
Flinging the gloom of yesternight 
On tne white day : but robed In soft- 
en*d light 

Of orient state. 
Whilome thou camest with the morn- 
ing mist. 
Even as a maid, whose stately brow 
The de w-im pearled winds of dawn have 
kiss'd, 

IVhen she, as thou, 
Stays on her floating locks the lovely 

freight 
Of overflowing blooms, and earliest 

shoots 
Of orient green, giving safe pledge of 

fruits. 
Which in wlntertide shall star 
TIm black earth with hxOhanco ran. 



m. 



/ 



Whilome thou earnest with the morn- 
ing mist. 
And with the evening cloud. 

Showering thy gleaned wealth into my 
ox)en breast 

(Those peerless flowers which in the 
rudest wind 

Never grow sere, 

When rooted in the gaxden of the 
mind. 
Because they are the earliest of the 
year). 
Nor was the night thy shroud. 

In sweet dreams softer than unbroken 
rest 

Thou leddest by the hand thine infant 
Hope. 

The odd}ing of her garments caught 
from uiee 

The light of thy great presence ; and 
the cooe 
Of the hali-attain*d futurity, 
Tho* deep not fathomless, 

Was cloven with the million stars 
which tremble 

O'er the deep mind of dauntless in- 
fancy. 

Small thought was there of life's dis- 
tress ; 

For sure she deem'd no mist of earth 
could dull 

Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and 
beautiful : 

Sure she was nigher to heaven's 
spheres, 

Listening the lordly music flowing 
from 

The illimitable years. 

strengthen me, enlighten me I 

1 faint in this obscurity, 
Thou dewy dawn of memory. 

IV. 

Come forth, I charge thee, arise. 
Thou of the many tongues, the myriad 

eyes I 
Thou comest not with shows of flaunt- 
ing vines 
Unto mine inner eye, 
Divinest Memory ! 
Thou wert not nursed by the water* 
fall 
Which ever sounds and shines 

A pillar of white light upon the wall 
Of purple cliffs, aloof descried : 
Come from the woods that belt the 

gray hillside. 
The seven elms, the poplars four 
That stand beside my father's door, 
And chiefly from the brook that loves 
To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed 

sand. 
Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves. 
Drawing into his narrow eartnen urn. 

In every elbow and turn, 
The fllter'd tribute of the rough wood* 
land. 
0! hither lead th7tQ^\ 




« ADELINE. 

PoiiT nmnd mine can Uu llTelons 

Of ttaetlilok-aeeciid Bheep from wut. 
tied foldi, 
TTpon the rldgcfl woltls, 
l^en tlio fliBt maiiTX40Dg liatJi ivat- 
Orer Uis dark dewv eartli forlorn, 
rorUi cuBhoi from beneath & low-hnnB 

Largo dowries dolh Iho mptnrcd eja 
Id the yoong epliit preBent 
WbeiiflrstShelBwed; 

And like a bride of old 
In Irinmph led. 
With ninslc and sweat Bhowen 
Of festal flowen, 
tTnto the dwelling b1i< 



great artist Mem. 



>u dearl J love tby Qtb 



Needim 

And foiemoBt In thj- various nul 
Flaee It, wbere iwceteKt su 

falls 
Upon tbe etorled wilUb ; 
Fortbediscovery 
And newneia of tbiua arD bo p 

Tlu,t all wbjch Uiou liaet dia 

Or lioldeat alma, but ll^bfly w 



On tbe prinio labor of tbine early 

No matter what llie sketch mlgbt be ; 
Wbettaer the hiah Held ou the bnah- 

leSB Pike, 
Or eren a eand-bnllt ridge 
Of heaped hills that muund tbe Bea, 
Overblown with niurrourB bnrBli, 
Or even a lowly eotiage whence we aea 



With plalud alleys of the tmllInD rOBO, 
Loug alleys folllug down to iwllicht 

Or opening upon level plots 
Of erowned llliea. stancnng near 
Furple-epiked lavender ; 
Whhllor In after life Tolirod 
From brawling BtDrmi, 
VrUDi weary wind, 
■WllhyoutbinKBiioy 
We may hold mnvan 
Of die mMuy-sliltd mi 



L7K 




In tie walks \ 
Earthward he 



>awcth Iho heavy 
brood BanSow 



Ueari^yhaiV -- -— - 

Overlta grave i' the earth so chUly: 

Hoovily hanga Ito bollyhoek, 
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. 



and btiBb'd, and close. 



>r before death : 



Heavily hangs il; 
Overlls grave i 

" •'■■>— igatl 

langa 

ADELINE. 

Mybteby of myBlcrlBB, 



Bui beyi 

With thy flooUiiE i 
Thy roee-lipsand full Dlueoyea 



ijpresilon fait 
" -" h^Ti 



Taketht , 

Wbcretore tbose dim looki of tldne. 
Shadowy, dreaming AdelluG V 

Whence that aery bloom of Ihina, 

Like a Uly whli^h the snn 
Looks tUro' In hlB kbU deullne. 

And n rose-bosh loans upon, 
ThoB that faintly BndlesC sQll, 



L maiden post ai 
leplaffldlips bo 



THE POET. 



in. 



What hope or fear or joy is thine ? 

Who talketh with thee, Adeline ? 

For sure thou art not all alone : 

Do beating hearts of salient springs 
Keep measure with thine own ? 
Uast thou heard the butterflies 
What they say betwixt their wings ? 
Or in stillest eyenines 
"With what voice the violet wooes 
To his heart the silver dews ? 
Or when little airs arise, 
How the merry bluebell rinss 
To the mosses underneath? 
Hast thou look'd upon the breath 
Of the lilies at sunrise ? 
Wherefore that faint smile of thine, 
Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ? 

IV. 

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind, 
Some spirit of a crimson rose 
In love with thee forgets to close 
His curtains, wasting odorous sigha 
All night long on darkness blind. 
What aileth ttiee ? whom waitest thou 
With thy soften'd, shadow^d brow, 
And those dew-lit eyes of thine, 
Thou faint smiler, Adeline ? 

♦ V. 

Lovest thou the doleful wind 

When thou gazest at the skies ? 
Both tlie low-tonffued Orient 
Wander from the side of the mom, 
Dripping with Sabaean spice 
On thy pillow, lowljr bent 

With melodious airs lovelorn, 
Breathing Light against thy face. 
While his locks a-drooping twined 
Round thy neck in subtle ring 
Hake a carcanet of rays, 

And ye talk togetner still, 
In the language wherewith Spring 
Letters cowsUps on the hill? 
Hence that look and smile of thine. 
Spiritual Adeline . 



A CHARACTER. 

With a half-glance upon the sky 
At night he said, ** The wanderings 
Of thu most intricate Universe 
Teach me the nothingness of things.*' 
Tet could not all creation pierce 
Beyond the bottom of his eye. 

He spake of beauty : that the dull 
Saw no divinity in grass, 
life in dead stones, or spirit in air ; 
Then looking as 'twere in a glass. 
Hesmooth*dhischin and sleeked his 

hair, 
And said the earth was beautiful. 

He spake of virtue : not the gods 
More purely, when they wish to charm 
Pallas and Juno sitting by : 
And with a sweeping of the arm, 
And a lack-lustre dead-blue eye, 
jDerolTed his rounded periods. 



Most delicately hour by hour 
He canvass'd human mysteries^ 
And trod on silk, as if the windjs 
Blew his own praises in his eyes. 
And stood aloof from other mino* 
In impotence of fancied power. 

With lips depress*d as he were meek, 
Himseli unto himself he sold : 
Upon himself himself did feed : 
Quiet, dispassionate, and cold. 
And other than his form of creed. 
With chiselled features clear and 
sleek. 



THE POET. 

The poet in a golden clime was bom. 
With golden stars above ; 

Dower' d with the hate of hate, the 
scorn of scorn. 
The love of love. 

He saw thro' life and death; thro' 
good and ill. 

Ho saw thro' his own soul. 
The marvel of the everlasting will, 

An open scroll. 

Before him lay : with echoing feet he 
threaded 
The secretest walks of fame : 
The viewless arrows of his thoughts 
were headed 
And wing'd with flame, 
Like Indian reeds blown from his sil- 
ver tongue. 
And of so fierce a flight, 
From Caipe unto Caucasus thev sung. 
FUmig with light 

And vagrant melodies the winds which 
bore 
Them earthward till they lit ; 
Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field 

The fruitful wit 

Cleaving, took root, and sprin^ng 
forth anew 
Where'er they fell, behold. 
Like to the mother plant in semblancOi 
grew 
A flower all gold. 

And bravely fumish'd all abroad to 

fling 

The winged shafts of truth, 
To throng with stately blooms the 
breathing spring 

Of Hope and Youth. 

So many minds did gird their orbs 
with beams, 
Tho* one did fling the fire. 
Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many 
dreams 
Of high desire. 

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the 
world 
Like one great garden show'd. 
And thro' the wreaths of ^o&ti\i\^ ^AX^ 
upcurl'd, 
Rare buhiIbq fLoyr^d. 




I 



When liiee aud Cocma befoi« Lis bum- 

Sleltedllka inow. 
Thera itbb no blood npon ber oiiideii 

Simn'd by 



B'?S^. 



t Ibe circleH a 



And when abe cpake, 
Her-n-oidB did GatboiUiunderiu Uiej 

And as (be Uglitoiug to tbe limi- 
Wbldb tollQWB tt, riving tha Bpliit of 

MEikingcartb wonder, 
Sowastheirmeaniug toLcrwords. Xo 

0( wratb her rlgbt arm wMrl'd, 
Bat oneiioor poet's Ecrull.Budnltb liia 

THE POET'S MIND. 



Tex not tbou the poofs mind 

Willi thy Bballow wit : 
Vex not tbou tbe pOEt'a mind ; 

For ibou cnnsC not fnUiom it. 
Clear and brigbt it should l)o ayer, 
Flowing niia u. orystal liver ; 
Bright SB lieht, and clear as vlud. 


Dflri-braw'd ropblBt. come not anear 

All the place la lioly ground ; 
Hollow gmUo and frozen sneer 

Holywuter willlDOur 
Inlo every apley floiver 
Of Ibe laurel-shrubs tlULt hedge It 


The flowers would faint at jour crua 



In your eye there Is death, 
There le frost In yourbroath 
Vhioh would bllEbC the pbints. 
IVbere jou stand yon cannot be 
From the Erovaa nitblu 
TLB wild-bird's dtn. 
Tn the lieart ol the gntden the me. 

bird ohanis, 
It would fall to tlio ground if you ca. 

In tha middlfl leaps a f ouiitidn 

Llka ebeet lightning, 

ETcrbiighteninc 
'With a Ion salodEius thundw ; 



It BDringB 01 






It w 



■erwonld hear It: yoni 

dull i 
where you Bie : JOU ara foul 

1 stirlnk U> the earth 



THE 8EA-FAIEIES. 
Slow aail'd the weary mtirineis aud 
Uetnlic tbe green brink and tbe fuD' 
Sweet fa<^ea, rounded arms, and bosoms 
TolittlebDrpsof gold; and while they 
ipprine to each other hnlfln fs 



I 



Shril 



mid- 



dle sea. 
TVhitber nwny, whither avpar,whlthor f 

miitber away from Ibo hiel „ 

deldt and the happy blossoming I 



e billow Iha f( 



snilH, 



I white bells (he elc 
rull-loned Bca : 

> mo and to me: I 

hither and frolla and I 



Hither, ci 
play; 

Here it is onlT the mew that wails ; 
Wo will sing to you all tho day; 
Marinor, mariner, furl your siuls, 
' m art) Iha hlluCul downi u 



dales. 



•rrily, merrily a 






And the apangla dou* 

And tho rainbow farms and flies i 

Oti^t tha islands free ; 

Aud tba tnlubow Uvea In the cu 

the sand ; 
Hither, come hither nnd Bee ; 
And the rainbow hangs on the polrfng I 



A DIRGE. 



% 



And sweet shall your welcome be : 
O hither, come hither, and be our lords, 
For merry brides are we ; 
We will kiss sweet Idsses, and speak 

sweet words: 
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten 
With pleasure and love and jubilee : 
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten 
When the sharp clear twang of ihe 

golden chords 
Runs up the ridged sea. 
Who can light on as happy a shore 
All the world o'er, all the world o'er ? 
AVhither away ? listen and stay : mar- 
iner, marmer, fly no more. 

THE DESERTED HOUSE. 
I. 
Life and Thought have gone away 
Side by side, 

JiCaving door and windows wide : 
Careless tenants tliey 1 

II. 
All within is dark as night : 
In the windows is no light ; 
And no murmur at the door, 
So frequent on its hinge before. 

in. 
Close the door, the shutters close, 
Or thro' the windows we shall see 
The nakedness and vacancy 
Of the dark deserted house. 

IV. 

Come away : no more of mirth 
Is here or merry-making sound. 

The house was builded of tne earth, 
And shall fall again to ground. 

V. 

Come away : for Life and Thought 
Here no lonjger dwell ; 
But in a city glorious— 
A great and distant citv— have bought 
A mansion incorruptible. 
Would they could have stayed with 
us!* 



THE DYING SWAN. 
I. 
Thk plain was grassy, wild and bare. 
Wide, wild, ana open to the air, 
Which had built up everywhere 
An under-roof of doleful gray. 
With an inner voice the river ran, 
Adown it floated a dying swan. 
And loudly did lament. 
It was the middle of the day. 
Ever the weary wind went on, 

And took the reed-tops as it went. 

II. 

Some blue peaks in the distance rose, 
And white against the cold-white sky, 
Shone out their crowning snows, 
One willow over the river wept, 
And shook the wave as the wind did 

sigh ; 
Above in the wind was the swallow, 
CHiasing itself at its own wild will. 
And far thro' the marish green and 
«tiU 



The tangled water-courses slept. 
Shot over with purple, and green, and 
yellow. 

Ill 

The wild swan's death-hymn took the 

soul 
Of that waste place with joy 
Hidden in sorrow : at first to the ear 
The warble was low, and full and clear; 
And floating about the uiider-sky. 
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach f 

stole 
Sometimes afar, and sometimes ancar; 
But anon her awful jubilant voice, 
With a music strange and manifold, 
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold ; 
As when a mighty people rejoice 
With shawms, and with cymbals, and 

harps of gold, 
And the tumult of their acclaim la 

roU'd 
Thro' the open gates of the city afar, 
To the shepherd who watcheth tlie eve- 
ning star. 
And the creeping mosses and clamber- 
ing weeds. 
And the willow-branches hoar and 

dank. 
And the wavy swell of the soughing 

reeds. 
And the wave-worn horns of the echo- 
ing bank, 
And the silveiy marish-flowers that 

throng 
The desolate creeks and pools among, 
Were flooded over with eddying song. 

A DIRGE. 

I. 
Now is done thy long day's work ; 
Fold thy palms across thy breast. 
Fold thine armsy turn to thy rest. 

Let them rave. 
Shadows of the silver birk 
Sweep the gi-een that folds thy grave. 

Let them rave. 

ir. 
Thee nor carketh care nor slander ; 
Nothing but the small cold worm 
Fretteth thine enshrouded form. 

Let them rave. 
Light and shadow over wander 
O'er the green that folds thy grave. 

Let them rave. 

III. 
Thou wilt not turn upon thy bed ; 
Chanteth not the brooding boo 
Sweeter tones than caliminy ? 

Let them rave. 
Thou wilt never raise thine head' 
From the green that folds thy grave. 

Let them rave. 

rv. 
Crocodiles wept tears for thee ; 
The woodbine and eglatero 
Drip sweeter dews than •tiaitox'*ft\«Kt. 
Let them rave. 



TUE BALLAD 

! In the tree 

kE folds Uiy gTATe. 



Hoond tiee blow, Belf-plBsclied dBBp, 
^rsmUlo loese fidnC atid pule, 
Viidlongpun)lea of tha dole. 

Thi?iiB in Breiy il 



Tho coM-BTOd klnscups fine ; 
Tlia Trail bluebell peeroili over 



Wild words wander here Hid Vb 
Qod-B grcBt gifl of s[ieep]i sbuai 
Jliitios iliy DieiDmy cniifused : 



LOTE ASa DEATH. 
What tlino tba mighty moDii was 

EatberitiR light 
Loth pBoeii tho thyroy plots of Far«- 

cllse, 
And all abottt Llm Toll'd lib luatroas 

DsBth, walklug all alone beneath a 
id tftltins to hltnsalf, lirat mat bis 



OF OBJANA. 

And lend tlie NoiUnd whlrlwtiulB 

Alone I wander to nud rio. 

Ere Ihe light on dark was growlnB, 

At miilnlBbt the ooek wa^ crnwlngr 



Aloud tUn hollow bagle blowing, 
-wood blnck as night* 
to the ngbl, 



WbUe hliaalul t 
B; iiar-shlne u 






bCBOns." 



" tbeao walkB a_ . 

'n irept nnd Bpf eod klj ihoei 

for flight ', 



parted Bald, "This hour ll 

Tlian art the shadow of llCe, and as tht 

Standi In the sun and shadows all 

So In tlio light of Eraat otemltr 

Life Dmllient oreutei the ilinds ol 

dcatu ; 
Tho shndow paaaoth whsa the tret 

-—'-.11. 

reign for over OTer all." 




' moouliglit, 
id plight. 



The bitter 

Ori 

Tho false. 



bride, 

Orlana 



t. my life, i 



jf loTo, my brldo, 



inid neHth, 



h ! narrow, narrow wsa the space, 

ond, loud rmic out tho huglo's brays, 

Orlaiia. 
h 1 deathflll stabs ware dealt apaoo, 



her (hon 



How could I loolc upon the < 
"lev should hove BUbb'.l i 

"*''Orlana- 
They should liave trod mo 1 



O brWklne he 



rt that will not bCBah, 



i 



THE MERMAID, 



11 



Hbon smilest, but thou dost not speak, 
And then the tears run down my cheek, 

Oriaua : 
"What wantest thou ? ivhom dost thon 
seek. 

Oriana? 

I crj aloud : none hear my cries, 

Oriana. 
Thou eomest atween me and the skies, 

Oriana. 
I feel the tears of blood arise 
Up from my heart unto my eyes, 

Oriana. 
Within thy heart my arrow lies, 

Oriaua. 

O cursed hand ! O cursed blow ! 
Oriana ! 

happy thou that liest low, 

Oriana ! 
All night the silence seems to flow 
Beside me in my utter woe, 

Oriana. 
A weary, weary way I go, 

Oriana. 

When Norland winds pipe down the 
sea, 

Oriana, 

1 walk, I dare not think of thee, 

Oriana. 
Thou liest beneath the greenwood tree, 
I dare not die and come to thee, 

Oriana. 
I hear the roaring of the sea, 

Oriana. 



CIRCmiSTANCE. 

Two children in two neighbor Tillages 
Playing mad pranks along the heathy 

leas j 
Two strangers meeting at a festival ; 
Two lovers whispering by an orchard 

wall ; 
Two lives bound fast in one with gold- 

en ease ; 
Two graves grass-green beside a gray 

church-tower, 
Wash*d with still rains and daisy-blos- 
somed ; 
Two children in one hamlet bom and 

bred ; 
So runs the round of life from hour to 

liour. 



THE 



MEKMAN. 

I. 

Who would be, 
A merman bold, « 
Sitting alone, 
Sinsing alone. 
Under the sea, 
With a crown of gold, 
On a throne ? 

II. 

I would be a merman bold ; 
I Zvooldsitand sing the whole of the 



I would All the searhalls with a vcdce 

of power J 
But at night I would roam abroad and 

With the mermaids in and out of the 
rocks, 

Dressing their hair with the white sea- 
flower ; 

And holding them back by their flow- 
ing locks 

I would kiss them often under the Bea, 

And kiss them agahi till they kibs'd uio 
Laughingly, laughingly ; 

And then we would wanc^raway, awny 

To the pale-green seorgroves btrui;;hc 
and high, 
Chasing each other merrily. 

III. 

There would be neither moon nor star; 
But the wave would moke music 

above us afar- 
Low thunder and light in the magio 
night— 
Neither moon nor star. 
We would call aloud in the dreamy 

dells, 
Call to each other and whoop and cry 
All night, merrily, merrily ; 
They would pelt me with utarry span- 
gles and shells, 
Laughing and clapping their hands 
between. 
All night, merrily, merrily : 
But I would throw to them back in 

mine 
Turkis and agate and almondine : 
Then leaping out upon them unseen 
I would kiss them often under the 

sea, 
And kiss them again till they kissed 
me 
Laughingly, laughingly. 
O, what a happy life were mine 
Under the hollow-hung ocean green ! 
Soft are the moss-beds under the sea ; 
We would live merrily, merrily. 



THE MERMAID. 
I. 

Who would be 
A mermaid fair, 
Singing alone. 
Combing her hair 
Under the sea. 
In a golden curl 
With a comb of pearl. 
On a throne ? 

II. 

I would be a mermaid fair ; 

I would sing to myself the whole of the 

day; 
With a comb of pearl I would comb my 

hair ; ^ 

And still as I comVd I would sing and 

say, 
** Who is it loves me? -^i^o \o^«^ ixri^ 

mo?" 



THE LADY OF SHALOTT. 



I would comb my Lair till laj ilugleti 



\fith' 



gold 
iriiiging 



Miaka under the V 



si lUeit imniortalilj 



atli BiJumylQie-flow- 



tlie brand sca-nalds In tliu crinu 
loao silvery spikoB oro iileheat I 

d adowii tha steep Uko a wave 

yiom the diamond-ledges that Jnl (n 

1 would not be hlBa'd by ull n 
wonirt lisl, , , 

tJie bold ineirr mormeii under 1 






End marry m 



Bui tbe k 

Voonie.i . 

" Uie braiioUug Jaapars under tbo 

Then all the dry idod tbinga that be 
*~ Mie bueleaa jooBeaa uniler the aen 

iild ^url round my fillvcr feet 

Bllenlly, 

AH lookiiiK up tor the Iotb of me. 
And l( I sbould carol aloud, from alott 
AU iLlnga Umt are lotked, and borueii, 

uld lean ont from tbe bollow ■phere 

iUl Igoking donn for tbe lovo of me. 



A latter Lutlier, ana s aoldler>pTi»t 
1o Bcnro cburch-harpicB from tbe maw 

Oar dusted Tofiola linve tnDch ne«d Ol 

UlBBl 

Tbou art no aabbath-aranler oC olj 

Dlsttlrd from some wotm-amker' 

£nt epurr'd at beort with Berlest ei 

To einbatlBll and to wall about llij 

'Wltb iri>n>wordMl proof, battngtohru 
Tiia buuinilng of tbs drowsy pulpl 

Half God's good silibatb, wbUs tt 

Brow-l>eBis hladesk below. Tboutroi 

Mounted in beaveii wilt eboot liito tl 

Arrows of llebtnings. 1 will lUnd Bi 

THE LADY OF SHALOTT. 

O^ eltber side the river lie 
Lone fields nC barley aiid of rye, 
Ttiat elutbe tbe wulil and iiiiiet thu ik] 
Aud tbro' tbe field tiie road runa bj 

To many-lower'd t;aniBlot ; 
And up and down tbe people go, 

le where tbe lilies blow 



•biton, aapena aulrer, 



By the Laland in Ih 
Flowinir daw 
Four gray w 



•Liver ' 



ir giay to 



,^0 Dtfloweri, 

Aud tbe silent isle inibiiwera 

The Lady of Sbalott, 
Bv the maraln. willow-vell'd. 
Slide tbe heavy barcBB trall'd 

TL*ghal]op"lit'etbeilk«i-jail'd 



who ht 



nelot ; 



leLadyof ShalotC? 



towec-d Caiuelot : 
Ana py uio inoon the reaper weary, 
Plllnii alioaves in uplands airy. 
Lialenlnn, whispp™ " 'TIs the (dry 
Lady ul slialutL" 



THE LADY OF SUALOIT. 



18 



PAST II. 

!raEBE she weayes bv night and day 
A magic web with colors gay. 
She has heard a whisper say, 
▲ corse is on her if she stay 

To look down to Camelot. 
She knows not what the curse may be, 
And so she weayeth steadily, 
And little other care hath she. 

TheLadyof Shalott. 

And movine thro* a mirror clear 
That hangs oefore her all the year. 
Shadows of the world appear. 
There she sees the highway near 

Winding down to Camelot : 
There the river eddy whirls, 
And there the surly yillage-churls. 
And the red cloaks of market-girls, 

Pass onward from Shalott. 

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad. 
An abbot on an amblinepad, 
Sometimes a curly shepnerd-lad« 
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad. 

Goes by to tower'd Caraelot ; 
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue 
The knights come riding two and two : 
She hath no loyal knight and true. 

The Lady of Shalott. 

But in her web she still delights 
To weaye the mirror's mag^c sights. 
For often thro' the silent nights 
A funeral, with plumes and lights, 

And music, went to Cnmoloc : 
Or when the moon was oyerhead, 
Came two young loyers lately wed ; 
*'I am hsXt sick of shadows,*' said 

The Lady of Shalott. 

PABT III. 

A BOW-SHOT from her bower-eaves, 
He rode between the barley-sheaves, 
The sun came dazzling thro* the leaves, 
And flamed upon the Drazeu greaves 

Of bold Sir Lancelot. 
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd 
To a lady in his shield, 
That sparkled on the yellow field. 

Beside remote Snalott. 

The gemmy bridle glitter* d free, 
Like to some branch of stars we see 
Hung in the golden Galaxy. 
The bridle bells rang merrily 

As he rode down to Camelot 
And from his blazon'd baldric slung 
A mighty silver bugle hung, 
A2id as he rode his armor rung. 

Beside remote Shalott. 

All in the bine unclouded weather 
Thick-Jewell'd shone the saddle-leath- 
er, 
The helmet and the helmet feather 
Burned like one burning flame to- 
gether. 
As he rode down to Camelot. 
Am often thro' the purple night. 



Below the starry clusters bright. 
Some bearded meteor, trailing light. 
Moves oyer still Shalott. 

His broad clear brow in sunlight 

elow'd ; 
On Dumish'd hooves his war-horse 

trode ; 
From underneath his helmet flow'd 
His coal-black curls as on he rode. 
As he rode down to Camelot. 
From the bank and from the river 
He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 
*'Tirra lirra,** by the river 
Sang Sir Lancelot. 

She left the web, she left the loom. 
She made three paces thro' the room, 
She feaw the water-lily bloom, 
She saw the helmet and the plume. 

She look'd down to Camelot. 
Out flew the web and floated wide : 
The mirror crack'd from side to side : 
*' The curse is come upon me," cried 

The Iiady of Shalott. 

PART IV. 

In" the stormy east-wind straining, 
The pale yellow woods were waninc;, 
The broad stream in Ills banks com- 
plaining, 
Heavily tlie low sky raining 

Over tower'd Camelot ; 
Down she came and found a boat 
Beneath a willow left afloat. 
And round about the prow she wrote 

The Lady qf Shalott, 

And down the riyer*s dim expanse-^ 
like some bold seer in a trance. 
Seeing all his own mischance — 
With a glassy countenance 

Did she look to Camelot. 
And at the closing of the day 
She loosed the chain, and down she 

lay; 
The broad stream bore her far away, 

TheLadyof Shalott. 

Lying, robed in snowy white 
That loosely flew to left and right — 
The leaves upon her falling light — 
Thro* the noises of the night 

She floated down to Camelot : 
And as the boat-head wound along 
The willowy hills and fields among. 
They heard her singing her last song, 

The Lady of Shalott. 

Heard a carol, mournful, holy. 
Chanted loadly, chanted lowly. 
Till her blood was frozen slowly. 
And her eyes were darken*d wholly, 

Tum'd to tower'd Camelot ; 
For ere she reach*d upon the tida 
The flrst house by the water-side, 
Singing in her song she died. 

The Lady of Shalott. 

Under tower and balcony. 
By garden-wall and gaWexy, 



MARIANA jy THE SOUTH. 

A cliamine ihspe she Boateil b; 
DewL^Lc TieCwBan Ui ' 



Bl ligii. 



The ZAviff 0/ Slialolt. 
"Wliota tlila? find what is hera 
And til the UglilBd palniMi near 



Uledlii 

AnU UiBT oroBB'd Ih 

AU the knlf 

BntLBntslotmaiec 



seliei tor fsar. 
luile spAca ; 



OwlluhltinKi 



i» muroy lo 
lielidyol 



In iw dusty Tl 

[nMilaa rid^fe upon liie right, 
1 «mply rlvor-bEd belore, 
lit BballowB an a dlntant short, 
itrliig land anil Inlets brlEbt. 
Jul ■' Ave Mury," made Btu moan, 
And ■■Ave Miuy," ntght and 

lud "aA," she Bang, "to bo nil 

To IItb forgotlen. and lovoloc- 

ta her earol sadder pew 

am brow and bosom bIowIj- down 



ly eyes di 



To IlTo forgotten, u 



» henelf she cut, 

Dwurauur jfMdy miumur'd abo ; 

Complaining, " Slother. give nio gtace 

To help me ol my weary load." 

And oil the liquid mirror glow'd 

The ulear pertooUoii ot liur [ai:e. 

■■ Is thiB tba form," aha madfl her 




Kor any cl 
latdayfiici 



And eeem'd liuee-duep in mnuntoi 

AninieBtd her natiis bnesel pass, 

And runlets babbling down the clen. 

She breathed la sleep a^owf 

And murmuring, OS Btitigbt an 
8bo thought, "My Epirit Is licro I 
"WalltB forgotten, nnd is foriom." 
Dreaming, she knew It was a dren 
She fell be was a»d waa not thi 

BliD wolia : Uie babble nt tlia itrt 

FeJl, and, without, thoeteady glare 
Sbianli one sick wliJow sere and smalL I 
Tho rlvei-bed nas dusty-whllo i ' 

And a)l the fumni^o of the Ugbt 
Struck up agiiinet tlie blludiiia wall. 
'"■" whiBpei-'d, with aatlfled nioai 
— . ■ ...... .. nijiii, 0, I 



More Inward 
"Sweet Mother, let 



I.We torgotlQn nnd die forlaru." 
And. rising, from hor boHim drew 

Old latteia, brentliltig ot lier worth, 
For " Lore," they aaid^ -'muat needs 

To what (s loveliest upon eorlli."' 

To look at her wlthslichr, and »ay, 
■- But now thy beauty fows away. 






TcyeB 



" line thou Shalt bo a ... 

From beat to boat the day decreHSOd, 
And slowly rounded to tho east 
rhe one block ahodovr frotii the wall. 
" Tha day to-night," aha made her 

"The day to-ntgbt, the night to 



ELEANOJIE. 



15 



/ 



Hearen over Heaven rose the nlsht. 
And weeping then she made her 

moan. 
" The night comes on that knows 
^^ not mom, 

When I shall cease to be all alone, 
To live forgotten, and love for- 
lorn." 



ELEANOBE. 

I. 

Thy dark eyes open*d not, 
Kor first reveal'd themselveB to Eng- 
lish air. 
For there is nothing here. 
Which, from the outwtird to the inward 

brought, 
Moulded thy baby thought. 
Far off from human neighborhood, 

Thou wert bom, on a summer mom, 
A mile beneath the cedar-wood. 
Tliy bounteous forehead was not f ann*d 
With breezes from our oaken glades, 
But thou wert nursed in some delicious 
land 
Of lavish light4S, and floating shades: 
And flattering thy cliildish thought 
The oriental fairy brought, 
At the moment of thy birth. 
From old well-heads of haunted rills. 
And the hearts of purple hills, 

And shadow'd coves on a sunny 
shore. 
The choicest wealth of all the 
earth. 
Jewel or shell, or starry ore, 
To deck thy ci-adle, Eleancre. 

II. 

Or the yellow-banded bees, 
Thro' half-open lattices 
Coming in the scented breeze. 

Fed thee, a child, lying alone. 
With whitest honey in fairy gardens 

cuU'd— 

A glorious child, dreaming alone, 

In silk-soft folds, upon yieldinj 
down. 
With the hum of swarming bees 

Into dreamful slumber lull'd. 



»g 



III. 

Who may minister to thee ? 
Smumer herself should minister 

To thee, with fruitage golden- 
rinded 
On golden salvers, or it may be. 
Youngest Autumn, in a bower 
Grape-thicken'd from the light, and 
blinded 
With many a deep-hued bell-like 
flower 
Of fragrant trailers, when the air 
Sleepeth over all tlie heaven, 
And the crag that fronts tho Even, 
All along the shadowy shore, 
OrimsoDB over an inland mere, 
EleftQorc ! 



IV. 



How may fuU-sail'd verse express. 
How may measured words adore 
The full-flowing harmony 
Of thy swan-like stateliness, 
Ele&nore ? 
Tlie luxuriant symmetry 
Of thy floating gracefulness, 
Eleanore ? 
Every turn and glance of thine, 
Every lineament divine, 

Eleanore, 
And the steady sunsetglow. 
That stays upon thee ? f^r in thee 
Is nothing sudden, nothing single : 
Like two streams of incense free 
From one censer, in one shrine, 
Thought and motion mingle. 
Mingle ever. Motions flow 
To one another, even as tho* 
They were modulated so 
To an unheard melody, 
Which lives about thee, and a sweep 

Of richest pauses, evermore 
Drawn from each other mellow-deep ; 
Who may express thee, Elefinoro ? 

V. 

I stand before thee, EleUnore ; 

I see thy beauty gindually unfold, 
Daily and hourly, more and more. 
I muse, as in a trance, tho while 

Slowly, as from a cloud of gold 
Comes out thy deep ambrosial smile. 
1 muse, as in a trance, whene'er 

The languors of the love-deep eyes 
Float on to me. I would I were 

So tranced, so rapt in estasies. 
To stand apart, and to adore, 
Gazing on thee for evermore, 
Serene, imperial Eleanore ! 

vr. 

Sometimes, with most intensity 

Gazing, I seem to see 

Thought folded over thought, smiling 

asleep 
Slowly awaken'd, grow so full and deep 
In thjr large eyes, that, overpower'd 

quite, 
I cannot veil, or droop my sight. 
But am as nothing in its light : 
As tho' a star, in inmost heaven set, 
Ev'n while we gaze on it, 
"Should slowly round his orb, and slowly 

grow 
To a full face, there like a sun remain 
Fix'd— then as slowly fade again, 

And draw itself to what it was be- 
fore; 

So full, so deep, so slow. 

Thought seems to come and go 

In thy large eyes, imperial Elea- 



nore. 



VII. 



As thunder-clouds that, hung on high, 
Koof'd the world with doubt and 



fear, 



boating thro* an evenlw^ a\;mcA\>\i'&x^, 
Grow golden all about, tlio a'W's \ 



THE MILLERS DAUGHTER. 



I 



Tnthoe all pawlon bflpoinfle pBeelonleflfl, 
Toiieli'dbvtljr«pirir«uialIoHnBm, 

FallinE into & biUI dellglicl 

And luiai? at cunMoiplatlon : 

' Bomrg elide, and lying still 
Shadaw forth the baitka si will : 

PreXBLni; up oesliuC tlie land, 

Wlili motions of the outer eea : 
And tliB self-ume Inlluonue 
ControllBlH all the »onl ai.d genie 

Ot PBMlon gazing upon tliee. 
ElBbaw-atrtngalacfcen'd, languid Love, 

Leaning hln cheek upon ids hand, 
Droops both IU« wlnja, reESriilug thoe. 
And BO would laiiguiBh OTormoro, 
Serene, imperial K^e^ore, 



Or, InajlindowYsaloon, 
On ellken cusbionB halt reclined ; 

I xatidi tby grace ; and in its placo 
My heart ft chlijTnQd slumber keorw, 

Wldle I muie upon ihy lace ; 
And a IftDgDld ^re c:reopa 
Thro' my vol ni to all my frame, 
DlaBoWliigly and slowly ! soon 

Prom t& ro«e-red lips iiv nama 
Floweth : and Ihon, na In a iwoon. 
Wtli dinning sound my ears are rife. 
My tremulous tongne falteraih, 
I foae ray cnlor, I Idbb my breaih, 
I drink tbe onp of a coBtly dell,tl^ 
Brlmm'd with delirious draugbli o[ 



I uwafrf be dyliigeTermore, ' 
Bo dying ever, Eloanore. 

THE MU-LEK'S DAUGHTER. 

His double chin, his (Brtly «i™. 
And vrbo that knew hini could forget 

The busy wrinkles ronndhls eyes? 
The slow wlFB Bmlle that, roundabout 

KildiMtt forehead '-■ 
Seem'dhHlf- " ■" 



ill or dt 



Irrly cnrl'd, 
Ihatf-nithouC, 
with the world ? 



(B him Bl 



I «eo his gray eyes twinkle yet 
At his own JBsl— gray eyes lit np 

With Bnmmer Jlnhtidnga of a lonl 
So full of summer warmth, BO glad, 

So healthy. Bound, and dear and whole, 



BU mef 



"iSiu 



Pray, Alice, pray, iny darling wife, 
That we nuy die the aeU-eaioe dar. 

HftTSi not found a happy earth? 
1 loaBt should bieaOiB a. IhougUt alM 

Would liod renew me from my bl 

So awoot it seems with thoe lo wal„, 

And oEi^e agnln lo woo tbmi mluo— J 
It seeniB In after-dUiuer talk I 



)wn upon the village splro ; 
■are, where I and you 



By so 



Id skylai'k'B 



And oft I heard the tender dora 

1 had no modonuf^my unii."^" 
^BVforo"^l"^d^^d"' S^l' ""l"^''' 
Still Idthcr thillier Idly Bway'd 



The milldam ruBhlii down witi | 
Ind Bee the minnowa eyerywhe' 
In crTBIal eddies glance and p 

Below the range ot stopping sloliei^" 

n masses thick with milky com 
Butj_ Alice, what an hour was tli 



TeroellatcnliiH lo the broi 



I had Bomewhere read, 



came a thousand \ 
In laiy mood 



And there a vision caught my 
A Blowing arm, agleamlngnl 
Within Ihe dirk atiTdi^SiW 



H 



j_ 



THE MILLERS DAUGHTER, 



17 



For yon remember, you had set, 

That morning, on the casement-edge 
A long green box of mignonette, 

And you were leaning from the ledge: 
And when I raised my eyee, above 

They met with two so full and bright- 
Such eyes ! I swear to you, my love, 

That these have never lost their light. 

I loved, and love dispell'dthe fear 

That I should die an early death : 
For love possess'd tl:.e atmosphere, 

And flird the breast with purer breath. 
My mother thought, What ails the boy? 

ifor 1 was altered and began 
To move about the house witli joy, 

And with the certain step of man. 

I loved the brimming wave that swam 

*Tiiro* quiet meadows round the mill, 
The sleepy pool above the dam, 

The pool beneath it never stilL 
The meal-sacks on the whiten'd floor, 

The dark round of the dripping wheel, 
The very air about the door 

Made misty with the floating meal. 

And oft in ramblings on the wold. 

When April nights began to blow. 
And Aprirs crescent glimmer'd cold, 

I saw the village lights below ; 
I knew your taper far away. 

And full at heart of trembling hope, 
From oft the wold I came, andlay 

Upon the f reshly-flower'd slope. 

The deep brook groan*d beneath the 
mill; 

And *♦ by that lamp," I thought, "she 
sits!*' 
The white chalk-quarry from the hill 

Gleam'd to the flying moon by fits. 
** O that I were beside ner now 1 

O, will she answer if I call ? 
O, would she give me vow for vow. 
Sweet Alice, & I told her all ? '* 

Sometimes I saw you sit and spin ; 

And. in the pauses of the wind. 
Sometimes I heard you sing within ; 

Sometimes your shadow crossed the 
blind. 
At last yon rose and moved the light, 

And the long shadow of the chaOr 
Flitted across into the night, 

And all the casement durken'd there. 

But when at last I dared to speak, 
The lanes, you know, were white 



4 



Tour ripe lips moved not, but your 
cheeK 

Flush*d like the coming of tho day ; 
And so It was— half -sly, half-shy. 

Tou would and would not, little one! 
Although I pleaded tenderly, 

And you and 1 were all alone. 

And slowly was my mother brought 
To 3rield consent to my desire : 

She wish*d roe happy, but she thought 
I mif^t have look*d a little higher ; . 

And I was joung-^too young to wed : / 



" Yet must I love her for your sake ; 
Qo fetch your Alice here," »he said : 
Her eyelid quiver'd as she spake. 

And down I went to fetch my bride : 

But, Alice, you were ill at ease ; 
This dress and that by turns you tried, 

Too fearful that you should not 
please. 
I loved you better for your fears, 

I knew you could not look but well ; 
And dews, that would havefall'nin 
tears, 

I kiss'd away before they fell. 

I watch'd the little flutterings, 

The doubt my mother would not see; 
She spoke at large of many things. 

And at the last she spoke of me ; 
And turning look'd upon your face. 

As near this door you sat apart. 
And rose, and, with a silent grace 

Approaching, press'd you iieart to 
heart. 

Ah, well— but sing the foolish song 

I gave you, Alice, on the day 
When, arm in arm, we went along, 

A pensive pair, and you were gay 
With bridal flowers— that I may seem. 

As in the nichts of old, to lie 
Beside the mill-wheel in the stream, 

While those full chestnuts whisper 
by. 

It is the miller's daughter. 
And she is ^own so dear, so dear, 

That I wouldbe the jewel 
That trembles at her ear, 

For hid in ringlets day and night, 

I'd touch her neck so warm and 
white. 

And I would be the girdle 
About her dainty dainty waist. 

And her heart would beat against 
me. 
In sorrow and in rest. 

And I should know if !t beat right, 

I'd clasp it round so close and tight* 

And I would be the necklace. 
And all day long to fall and rise 

Upon her balmy bosom. 
With her laughter or her sighs. 

And I would lie so light, so light, 

I scarce should be unclasp'd at night. 

A trifle, sweet I which true love spellft— 

True love interprets— right alone. 
His light upon the letter dwells, 

For all the spirit is his own. 
So if I waste words now, in truth 

You must blame Love. His early race 
Had force to make me rhyme in youth 

And makes me talk too much in age. 

And now those vivid hours are gone, 
Like my own life to me thou art. 

Where Past and Present, wouxvdii\.<m!^ 
Do make a garland lot I^Ck'haucXt \ 

So sing that other son^;! madLd, 




18 <ENO. 

H»U-aiieBr*d Tritt) my tappy lot. 
Ibe day. wheu iii tho cheauut shikdo 



LoTO tliM hBth OB in tbe net 
Cim he pou. and we forgot 7 
Many SI- ' ' — 

Lore Id Iiurl willi Jar aiiil fr 
Love iB mttde a yaguc i ogrel 



Look Ihio" mine ejeB wltli t 
Koum^ my trno heart t 
«» oUior Ueurec lifo in life, 



Mn. 



li uiy (liadn of years. 

■licil K many tean, 
iitce SnC 1 knen' tbi 



y«t toaia Ihey shed ; Ihey lad thelx 
Of BOfrow : for wht^n time WHJ> ripe, 

liacMoe BiioMwai-d brontliing type, 
mat iiito BtUlneas iiost aenlii. 

And left a niiil unknown before : 
Aitboueli thcloas that htounlit ub pnin, 

Ttiatloa Sue mulB ua loio tliu mote. 
With farther loolilngs on. TheltlBs, 

Weak tymboU of tiie settled WUa, 
•The comfort. I have found In thee : 
But that God blasB thee, doai^nho 



r.";a» 



WithhletB...,..-. - 

With bleMlugs which 

find. 
ArlBe. and let 



3 



idor forth. 

.e BUneet. wiuth and norQ], 
the Tale In rosy folds. 

Siiichln'it iho BiiUen pool below : 

i^itJie o]LB!k-hl11 Uifl beardHl Rraea 

' ' ' ' iwleuB. LotuBgo. 



I.oTB, I,OTe, Una 1 O wiaaring 
might 1 
n, ttat from thy noonday height 






LBHt night I wasted hatefnlboun 

I thh-BLed for the btookB, the tho'iren 
I roll'd DmouE the tender Uoweta : 
I cruali'd theia on my breaic, r 

I look'd aihwait the bumlnE droo 
Of that long dMcrt to tho Boutli. 
List night when Bomo ono cpoke 1 
From my cnift blood that went a: 
A UiouBOud llttlo Ehaf ts ot 



niy jiarroiv frama. 



a deep gardeni, I 






My lips, an almll, 
Before hemounW 
1:1 comelh quicklj 
Sweet galea, as fi 

Before him, attlkli 
li\ my dry brain 
Bown-deepeuiiig from swoon ti 

F^ta tike a doziled moinlng moon 
The B-lud soundB like s Bilver wire. 
And flora beyond tho noon a Urn 
iB iiour'dapon the bllli, and nlgher 
Thu BkJes atoop down In Ihelr deElio, 

AnU. l^led In Bucltleii seas of light, 

:My heart, pierced thio' with derm 
dfllght. 

Bursts imo blofBom UihlB sight 
Mv whole pool irnltlna Bllenlly, 
All naked In a sultry aky. 
Droops blinded with his dlnins eyo ■> 
I TriirposBen him or will die. 

I will grow round him in hli nlaeiL 

Grow, live, die looking on his race. 

Die, dying, cloBp'd inhls embnoe. 



TuEni! lleaaTaleinTdn, lovelier 
Than all the Talleya uf Ionian hills. 
The Bwlmmlng vapor slopes athWBrt 

the glen, 
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from 

pine lo pine. 
And loltorB, slowly drawn. On either 

hand 
The EawnBondmeadow.ledgflB midway 

Hand ileh In floweta, and far below 

them roan 
Tho long brook falling thro' the ck 



Monraful CEnono. warulerl 



(ENONE. 



ID 



/ 



Of Parte, once her playniAte on tihe 

hills. 
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round 

her neck 
Floated her hair or Beem*d to float in 

rest. 
She, leaning on a fragment twined 

with vine. 
Sang to the Btillness, till the mountain- 

sliode 
Sloped downward to her seat from the 

upper clilf . 

" O mother Ida, many-f onntain*d Ida, 
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
Por now the noonday quiet holds the 

hill : 
The grasshopper is silent in the grass; 
The lizard, with his shadow on the 

stone, 
Bests like a shadow, and the cicala 

sleeps. 
The purple flowers droop : the golden 

bee 
Is lily-cradled ; I alone awake. 
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of 

love, 
My heai-t is breaking, and my eyes are 

dim, 
And I am all aweary of my life. 

** O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, 
Dear mother Ida, harken ero 1 die. 
Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O 

Caves 
That house the cold crown*d snake I O 

mountain brooks, 
I am the daughter of a River-God, 
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up 

all 
My sorrow with my song, as yonder 

walls 
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, 
A cloud that gather'd shape : for it 

maybe 
That, while I speak of it, a little while 
My heart may wander from its deeper 

woe. 

" O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, 
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
I waited underneath the dawnijig hills. 
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy- 
dark, 
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain 

pine : 
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris, 
Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, 

whfte-hooved, 
Came up from reedy Slmois all alone. 

•* O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
Far-off the torrent call'd me from the 

cleft ; 
Far up tlie solitary morning smote 
The streaks of virgin snow. With 

down-dropt eyes 
I sat alone : white-breasted like a star 
Fronting the dawn he moved : a leop- 
ard skin 
Droop'd from his shoulder^ but his 
0uu»7 hair 



/ 



Clustered about his temples like a 
God's; 

And his cheek bxighten'd as the foam- 
bow brightens 

When the wind blows the foam, and 
all my heart 

Went forth to embrace him coming era 
he came. 

** Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
He smiled, and opening out his milk« 

white palm 
Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian 

gold. 
That smelt ambrosially, and whilo I 

look'd 
And listen'd, the full-flowing river of 

speech 
Came down upon my heart. 

** • l^Iy own OEnonc, 
Beautif ul-browM (JBnonc. my own soul, 
Behold this fruit, whoso gloaming 

rindingrav»n 
**For the most fair," would seem to 

award it thine. 
As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt 
The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all 

grace 
Of movement, and the charm of mar- 
ried brows.* 

" Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
He prest the blossom of his lips to 

mine. 
And added, ' This was cast upon the 

board, 
When all the full-faced presence of 

the Gods 
Ranged in the halls of Peleus ; where- 
upon 
Rose feud, with question unto whom 

'twere due ; 
But light-foot Iris brought ityester- 

eve. 
Delivering, that to me, by common 

voice 
Elected umpire, Herfe comes to-day, 
Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each 
This meed of fairest. Thou, within the 

cave 
Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest 

pine, 
Maystwell behold them, unbeheld, un- 
heard 
Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of 

Gods.' , 

** Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die. 
It was the deep midnoon ; one silvery 

cloud 
Had lost his way between the piney 

sides 
Of this long glen. Then to the bower 

they came. 
Naked they came to that smooth-sward' 

ed bower, 
And at their feet the crocus brake like 

fire, 
Violet, amaracus, and asphodel. 
Lotos and lilies : and a w\\\d a.iQ««^ 
And overhead the vrawdetVu^ Vv^ «xA 

vine, 



Thin w«r una that, In many a wild (e»- 









notlisT Ida, hfluken ere 1 1 
tTBH-iona n crested noacocl 



^ 



Upon bini, elovlj dropping fragmjit 
Then OiEt I heard the toIco of her, to 
Coming thro' Hoaveit, like A lighC ihnb 
Larger and cleiuer, with one mind the 
p for rflTereBCQ. She to TarU 
■ of roTOl power, ample rule 



Andriri 

with ... 
Or laboc'd n 



WiloE"i" 



o embellish state, ■ from 

ndor'dchampal^i clothed 

iioiiuDdraiuableolore. 
e laid, ' and homOEe, tax 

;, 

' on Inland town and bareD 

IC'dbenestli becebadowtng 

baya among bcr talloat 

;r Ida, barken ere I die. 
ake on and bIUI she spake 

111 action la Uie end of all ; 



nned ot wisdom— 1 



^ 



from 






>, Heaven's Queen, Paiis, to 
A BbepberU alt thy life bnt yet klng- 
Bhould oomo most weleomej aeeing 
Only, are lAieet gods, who hsvo at- 



Beit in I. _ 

Above the t 

'u Imowledgo uC Ibeii own bu 

" Dear nmlheTlda. barken pre 
She ceased, and Paris held the < 

■i-lenBtb, i 

rianer'j 

It apart, her clear and bared 

/yflrtAiTrtrtod irtft the braaen-heailed 



Upon her pearly Hbouldcr IcBninc cold. 
Ms whilo, above, lier full and aatneat 

Overher enow.cold breait and ongr^ 

Kept watch, wBiling decision, mads 



Thesi 



i«lead 



aolf - knowledge. 



Would corns ancsil'dfor) but to llv* by 

law, ' 

Acting tho law wo live by without 

And, becauBQ right ii right, to follow 

WeS^wlBdnm In the scorn of codbs- 
qnouce.' 
"l)ear 



So Bholt thou find me fairest. 

Viit, indeed. 
If gaiing <m divinity dlorobed 
Thy raorUil eyes aro IruU to judge of 

Unbiaau'dbyaalf-profit, oil I reat Uieg 

That I sbRll love Ihsa well and deave 

So Hint my vigor, wedded to iby 

Shall strike within thy pulgee, like a 

To pnsh iliee forward thro' a life of 

Dangers, and deeda, until enduranco 

Binew'd with action, and the tall- 

nwn will, 
thro' all eTperlenfM, purel&w. 



Paris, 



er'd, a 



re she c 



Or bsariiig would not hear i 



Papbit 

■Willi rosj 
drew 



iv-foimtain'dlfia, 
I- IlUe. 

foun, nevr-ballied In 
n Weill, 
sleniler fingen backward 

'flrrn brows and boaom 

goMoii round her ludd 

ler : from the Tioteta h 



(ENONE. 



7" 



-t- 



Between the ahadows of the vine- 

btmches 
Floated the glowing f nnUghtBi as she 

moyed. 

<< Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
She with a subtle smile in her mild 

eyes, 
The herald of her trinmph, drawing 

nigh 
Half-whisper'd in his ear, * I promise 

thee 
The fairest and most loYing wife in 

Greece.* 
She spoke and laugh*d: I shut my 

sight for fear: 
But when I look'd, Paris had raised 

his arm 
And I beheld great Herd's angry eyes, 
As she withdrew into the golden cloud, 
And I was left alone withm the bower ; 
And from that time to this I am alone, 
And I shall be aluue until I die. 

** Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. 

Fairest — why fairest wife ? am I not 
fair? 

My love hath told me so a thousand 
times. 

Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, 

When I past by, a wild and wanton 
pard, 

Eyed like the eyening star, with play- 
ful tail 

Cronch*d fawning in the weed. Most 
loving is she ? 

Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that 
my arms 

Were wound about thee, and my hot 
lips prest 

Close, close to thine in that quick-fall- 
ing dew 

Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn 
lains 

Flash in the pools of whirling Simois. 

•* O mother, hear me yet before I die. 

They came, they cut away my tallest 
pines. 

My dark tall pines, that plumed the 
* craggy ledge. 

High over the blue gorge, and al\ be- 
tween 

The snowy peak and snow-white cata* 
ract 

Foster'd the callow eaglet — from be- 
neath 

Whose thick mysterious boughs in the 
dark mom 

The panther's roar came muffled, while 
isat 

Low in the valley. Never, never more 

Shall lone CEnoue see tiie morning 
mist 

Sweep thro' them; never see them 
overlaid 

With narrow moon-lit slips of silver 
cloud. 

Between the loud stream and the trem- 
bUuirsteix 



" O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
I wish that somewhere in the ruin'd 

folds. 
Among the fragments tumbled from 

the glens, 
Or the dry thickets, I could meet with 

her, 
The Abominable, that uninvited camo 
Into the fair PeleYan banquet-hall. 
And cast the golden fruit upon the 

board. 
And bred this change ; that I might 

speak my mind, 
And tell her to her face how much I 

hate 
Her presence, hated both of Gods and 

men. 

" O mother, hear me yet before I die. 
Hath he not sworn his love a thousand 

times. 
In this green valley, under this green 

hill, 
Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this 

stone ? 
Seard it with kisses? water'd it with 

tears? 
O happy tears, and how unlike to 

these ! 
O happy Heaven, how canst thou see 

my face ? 
O happy earth, how canst thou bear my 

weight ? 

death, death, death, thou ever float- 

ing cloud. 
There are enough unhappy on this 

earth, 
Pass by the happy souls, that love to 

live: 

1 pray thee, pass before my light of 

life, 
And shadow all my soul, that I may 

die. 
Thou weighest heavy on the heart 

within, 
Weigh heavy on my eyelids : let mo 

die. 

" O mother, hear me yet before I die, 
I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts 
Do shape themselves within me, more 

and more, 
Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear 
Dead sounds at night come from the 

inmost hills. 
Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see 
My far-off doubtful purpose, as a 

mother 
Conjectures of the features of her 

child 
Ere it is bom : her child ! — a shudder 

comes 
Across me : never child be bom of me, 
Unblest, to vex me with his father's 

eyes ! 

" O mother, hear me yet before T die. 
Hear me,0 earth. 1 will not <lie alone, 
Lest their shrill happy laughter come 

to me \ 

Walking the cold and 6tMiVe«&xo«i\dl \ 

Death 



\ 



THE PALACE OF ART. 



Untomlnrtoel, lenvine tny andent 'hub 
With Iha Ureslc vonuii. I wlU tiea 

Domi luH) TroT, and en tho stars 

mme Eortli 
Talk wlUi tliB wild CassBjidca, fci iho 

A nie dances licrore hir. and a Bound 
Uins» eyor In her eats of armed men. 
What tills na,j be I kuow not, Itut I 

Thaci wlieneoe'er I am by nlgbt and 

All earth aad bIt seem only burning 
firs." 

THE SISTEKS. 
'Wb wrm two daaebten of one race: 
Sbe »as til a falresl In the face: 

Tlis wind U blDwlug In turret and 

Thoy wore to([Bthor, and sbe (h11 : 
ThoretDta reveiiBe beeama mo well, 

O the Karl ivas fall to He I 
She dlei 



he wind iB 



B intu 



ThBWiiiil la roailiiijlii turret aiu 

And after sapper, on a 1>ed. 
Upon my lap liu laid hla head : 

O the Earl was fair W bus 1 
1 ViBB'd hH eyelids into rcBti 
HlB ruddy pheek upnii my breast. 

The wind Is raging In turret aa< 

1 hatodbim wltli the hate of hell. 
But 1 loved liis beauty poiuing well. 

O the Karl was fair to sea [ 
1 rMe up in the aiipnt night: 
I made mv ilBEi;er Bliarp aud bticht. 

The wind is raving in turrat am 

A> Iuilt-aa*lee 
-■ Tie limas 

the Earl 



1 vrapt Ills body In the sheet, 
■- ■ ■aid hini at bis mother's fe 
Uiel!«rlwa8[airtoBeel 



I The wiiiflB 
1 vrapt Ills body 
.ftndlaUlhimat 
Uie l!«rl w 
T( 
JaBKDroa here 
tFiiryou tvJJI anc 



A tinful soul posaCBBM of many ^t», 
A spacious gaiden full of liowering 

A glorious Dovil. largo in heart and 

That did loTo Beauty only, CQeauty 

In all varictin of mould and mind) 
And Knowledge loi iu beauty; or if 

Good, 
Good only foe IlB beauty, seeing not 
That Beauty, Good, anil Knowlodge, 



d ho that ehuu Love 
hall be 



Moulded by God, and tempor'd with I 
Uioteora ' 

.If auEclfl to tho perfect Bliape of m 

THE PALACE OF ART. 
[ BfltT my Boul a lordly pleasi 



Dear eoul, tor all la well." 
Ahuxpi crag-platform, BmooUl oa 
nub'dbtase, 

Ichose. TheranEeitrampartsbrlBht 
From level niesilow-batos of deep itrasa 

Suddenly scaled the lisHl. ° I 

Tberoon I built itCim. Of led^ or I 

The lock roso clonr, ot wlndlue stair. 
My soul would live aiouo luiw har-" 
In her high palaue Uiere. 



1 



" Iteigji thou apart, a 



a qalet king. . 

whirls. Lis ated- I 



Id thlB i;reat n 
So royal-rlrl 



1 made, Eiit, West ai 



THE PALACE OF ART. 



28 



JUid zonnd the cool gieen courts there 
ran a row 
Of cloisters, branch'd like mighty 
woods, 
Echoing all night to that sonorous 
flow 
Of spouted f oimtain-floods. 

And round the roofs a gilded gallery 
That lent broad verge to distant 
lands, 
Far as the wild swan wings, to where 
the sky 
Dipt down to sea and sands. 

From those four jets four currents in 
ono swell 
Across the mountain stream'd below 
In misty folds, that floating as they 
fell 
Lit up a torrent-bow. 

Aiid high on every peak a statue seem*d 

To hang on tiptoe, tossing up 
A cloud of incense of all odor steamed 

From out a golden cup. 
So that she thought, *' And who shall 
gaze upon 

My palace with unblinded eyes, 
"While this great bow will waver in the 
sun, 

And that sweet incense ri^^e ? " 

For that sweet incense rose and never 
fail'd. 
And, while day sank or mounted 
higher. 
The light atrial frallery, golden-railM, 
Burnt like a fringe of hre. 

likewise the deep-set windows, stain'd 
and traced, 
Would seem slow-flaming crimson 
flres 
From shadow'd grots of arches inter- 
laced. 
And tipt with frost-like spires. 
« • « • 

Full of long-sounding corridors it was, 
That ovcr-vaulled grateful gloom, 
Thro' which the livelong day my soul 

did pass, 

Well-pleased, from room to room. 

Full of great rooms and small the pal- 
ace stood. 

All various, each a perfect whole 
From living Nature, ut for every mood 

And change of my still soul. 

For some were hung with arras green 
and blue, 
ShowiuR a gaudy summer-mom. 
Where with pufTd cheek the belted 
hunter blew 
His wreathed bugle-horn. 

One seem*d all dark and red— 4i tract of 
sand, 
And some one pacing there alone, 
Who paced for ever in a glimmenng 
land, 
lit with a low large mooiu 



I 



One 8how*d an iron coast and angry 
waves. 
You seem'd to hear them climb and 
fall 

And roar rock-thwarted under bellow- 
ing caves. 

Beneath the windy wall. 

And one, a full-fed river winding slow 
By herds upon an endleas plain. 

The ragged rims of thunder brooding 
low. 
With shadow-streaks of rain. 

And one, the reapers at their sultry 
toil. 
In front they bound the sheaves. 
Behind 
Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil 
And hoary to the wind. 

And one, a foreground black with 
stones and sla^. 
Beyond, a line of heights, and higher 
All barr'd with long white cloud the 
scornful crags. 
And highest, snow and lira. 

And one, an English home— gray twi- 
light pour'd 
On dewy pastures, dewy trees. 
Softer than sleep— all things in order 
stored, 
A haunt of ancient Peace. 

Kor these alone, but every landscape 
fair 
As fit for every mood of mind, 
Or gay, or grave, or sweet, or stern, was 
there 
Not less than truth design'd, 
• « « • 

Or the maid-motlier by a crucifix, 
In tracts of pasture suiniy warm, 

Beneath branch-work of costly sar* 
donyx 
Sat smiling, babe in arm* 

Or in a clear-wall'd city on thd sea. 
Near gilded organ-pipes, her hair 

Wound with white roses, slept St. 
Cecily : 
An angel look'd at her. 

Or thronging all one porch of Paradise, 
A group of Houris Dow'dto see 

The dying Islamite, with hands and 
eyes 
That said, We wait for thee. 

Or mythic Uther's deeply-wounded son 
In some fair space of sloping greens 

Lav, dozing in the vale of Avalon, 
And walch'd by weeping queens. 

Or hollowing one hand against his ear. 
To list a foot-fall, ere he saw 

The wood-nymph, stay'd the Ausonian 
king to hear 
Of wisdom and of law. 

Or over hills with peaky tops engraird| 
And many a tract of palm and rice, 

The throne of Indiaw Csimai i^Q'«\^ 
sail'd * 

A summer fann*d -wilh. Bp\ce, 




Hh the palace of art. 

Or ■weel Enropa's manOo blew on- Two EodllliB («( 



FroDi OS her uliouliler bsfkwat 
ITiom one band droop'd s crociui : on 



hkndar 



diA biiira golden hotn. 

1 ainjmede, bii ro«J 
thigh 
nutf-tiurlvd In tbe Eagle's dnwu. 
Bole as n lljii.g slur aliol Uiro- tlie sky 

AIkjvoUh; iiillai'd Uiwii. 
Not thesB iilone ; but «Tory legend fiUr 
Which thBBUnremo Cauowian nuud 
Carved out otlJature for luelf, wbb 

Not leu Ui«n tile, deidgu'd. 
Than In Ihe lowera I placod grost bella 

UoTod of uiemBelTM, wllh ■llvei 
sound : 
And B-ith choice palutlngB of wise men 

ujirannd. 
Foi theie was Mllloa like n seraph 
idehlm Shakespeare bland and 

re tha world-worn Danle 

d his song, 

nettbat grimly Hzniled. 



roiu cheek and IhroaC and uMn. 
Above, the I^r hall-ceiliuf' stAtoly-set 

Many an aroh hiffh up did iltl. 
And aneeU rising and de>H»nding met 

With lutardiange of gitl. 
Below was all mosaic cholcelv plann'd 

With cycles of tha human tala 
01 Ihfa wide world, the times of aiery 
land 

So wrought, Ibey will not fail. 
Ibepeoplebere.a lieast of burden slow, 

loil'd onward, prick'd with go**'^ 
and saiigs ; 
Hero plsy'il. k tiger. rolHni to and Tro 

The lieada and crowns otkluBS i 
Bere rose, an athlete, strong to break 

All force In bonds that might endure, 



And liuated aiiy 
But over these e. 



I trod : and those 



1' the topmost Oriels' colore 



d largo-btow'd V«r« I 
i tire't of Ihoso who know- 
all those names, that '. 



Thro" nhii-h t 



I lights, rose, ctmber, I 



Bive 



lulodies. 

No nighdngala deHgliteth to prolong 
Uore than my soul to Lear her e<:ho'd I 

llirob thro' the ribbed stone ; 
Singing and mununrlng lu her f oastTul I 



mirth. 



Joying to feel herself all-v 
Ard oier Nature, lArd of 



iba Tlslbia I 



night dirino 
Crow n'd dying day with stars, 
Slaking sweet cluso of hii delic 

Lit light In wreaths and anaden 
And pom quintesaeuces of preuiout 
111 hullow'd mixius of gems, 

To mlmicbeaTen; andoiaptheihandi I 



Be llHtter'd to the height. 
'■ O all lliliigB fait to sate mj vaciciua I 
O BliapcB and lines that please u 



aOod-liheii'o] 



which ai 



a darkening B 



Whut time I wut 

That range on yonder plain. 
In filthy slODgba tbey toll B pmrient I 

Ttiey graze and wallow, bleed k 



hen of the moral Instinct would aba | 
And of 'the rising from tbe de 



THE PALACE OF ART. 



2€ 



As hers by right of f iill4MSoompliflh'd 

And at 'the last she said : 

"I take possession of man's mind and 
deed 

I care not what the sects mav brawl. 
I sit as God holding no form of creed, 

But contemplatiug all." 

• • # • 

Fall oft the riddle of the painful earth 
JHash'd thro* her as she sat alone, 

Yet not the less held she her solemn 
mirth, 
And iuteilectoal throne. 

And so she throre and prosper*d : so 
three yean 
She prosper'd : on the fourth she fell 
Like uerody when the shout was in his 
ears, 
Struck thro' with pangs of hell. 

Lest she should fail and perish utterly, 
God, before whom ever lie bare 

The abysmal deeps of Personality, 
Plagued her with sore despair. 

When she would think, where'er she 
turn'd her sight, 
The airy hand confusion wroneht. 
Wrote '*Mene, mene," and <uvided 
quite 
The kingdom of her thought. 

l>eep dread and loathing of her soli- 
tude 
Fell on her, from which mood was 
bom 
Scorn of herself ; again, from out that 
mood 
Laughter at her self -scorn. 

** What ! is not this my place of 
strength ? " she said. 
" My spacious mansion built for me. 
Whereof the strong foundation-stones 
were laid 
Since my first memory? '* 

But in dark corners of her palace stood 
Uncertain shapes : and unawares 

On white -eyed phantasms weeping 
tears of blood, 
And horrible nightmares. 

And hollow shades enclosing hearts of 
flame. 
And, with dim fretted foreheads all. 
On corpses three-mouths-old at noon 
she came. 
That stood against the wall. 

A spot of dull stagnation, without 
l^ht 
Or power of movement, seem'd my 
soul, 
Mid onward-sloping motions infinite 
Making for one sure goal. 

A still salt pool, lock'd in with bars of 
sand; 
Left on the shore; that hears all 
night 



The plunging seas draw backward from 
the laud 
Their moon-led waters white. 

A star that with the choral starry dance 
Join'd not, but stood, and standing 
saw 

The hollow orb of moving Circumstance 
Koll'd round by one fiz'd law. 

Back on herself her serpent pride had 
curl'd. 
" No voice," she shriek'd in that lone 
hall, 
« No voice breaks thro* the stillness of 
tMs world : 
One deep, deep silence all I " 

She, mouldering with the dull earth's 
mouldering sod, 

Inwrapt tenfold in slothful shame. 
Lay there exiled from eternal God, 

Jiiost to her place and name ; 

And death and life she hated equally, 
And nothing saw, for her despair. 

But dreadful time, dreadful eternity. 
No coniiort anywhere. 

Bemaining utterly confused with fears. 
And ever worse with growiiie time, 

And ever unrelieved by dismal tears. 
And all alone in crime : 

Shut up as in a crumbling tomb, girt 
round 
With blackness as a solid wall, 
Far off Hhe seem'd to hear the dully 
sound 
Of human footsteps fall. 

As in strange lands a traveller walking 
slow, 

in doubt and great perplexity, 
A little before moon-nse bears tne low 

Moan of an unknown sea ; 

And knows not if it be thunder or 
a sound 
Of rocks thrown down, or one deep 
cry 
Of great wild beasts ; then thinketh, 
•* I have found 
A new land, but I die." 

She howl'd aloud, " I am on fire within. 

There comes no murmur of reply. 
WTiat is it that will take away my sin, 

And save me lest I die ? " 

So when four years were wholly fin- 
ished. 
She threw her royal robes away. ; 
*' Make me a cottage in the vale," she 
said, 
** Where I may mourn and pray." 

" Yet pull not down my palace towers, 
that are 
So lightly, beautifully built : 

Perchance I may return with otheis 
there 
When I have purged my guilts'* 



/ 



7 



A- 



26 TBE MAY 

T.An v CLARA VEllE CB VEKE. 
XuU>Y Clara Vere dfl VBre» 

Uf IDS you ilisJI not wiji rantnm : 
Yuu tkouijlit bi lu'eak & coonl:^ liasxl 

Ac iDo tau mulleil, but uubegulled 
I BBw [hs Biiuie, and 1 collieil ; 



Lady Clara Votb iIb VBre, 

IkuDwyou ptouii tobearToDrname 
roar pride U yet no mota foe mine, 

loo pioud to care fcooi wlieuL-e 1 

Nor wouia I bteak for jour sweet saJii 



la woctli a huudieil uOBtB-of-Bima. 
Lady Clara Vara de Vero, 
Some meeker pupil you mnrt find, 

1 could not stoop tu sucb a iniiid. 
You songlit fo proTB how i eoald loyB, 

And my diaduln is my reply. 
Tlio llou on your old Bto»e eatsB 

JB not inoTB cold to you tnau 1. 
Lady ClsraVBradB Vers, 

VoQ put strange memoiies in my 

Sot fbrloB your brandling limea have 
Sinoe it beheld young Lnurcnce dead. 

But there was that across hlB diiaaC 

WUcIi you hod hardly cued to see. 
Lady Clara Vera do Vere, 

■Wtieii thoB ho met hia mothet'B rtew. 
She had Uie pasMonB uf her kind. 

She BralieBoniccertnin truthaof you. 
Indeed 1 heard one bttl«r word 

That BcarcB is lit f nr ynii to hear ; 
Her insiinoFshad not that r^poFe 

'Which ntomps tlie easts ci Vero de 



Lady Clara Voro da Vero, 

Tfiera alanda aflpociroln yourhall; 
Theeuiltofliloodlant your door! 

You cbaiiBBj a wholeaonia heart to 
gall. 
You lield your counewUhontremoree, 

To make him trust his modent north, 

And slew Mm vlUi your noble birth. 
Trofit me, Clnra Vero flo Vere, 

From yon blue heavemi aboTO ns bent, 
The Bardener Adam and lila wife 

Smllo at the clilmB of Ionic descent, 
Howo'ei n be, tt seems lo me, 

'TIa only nobis to be gnoil. 

Andslmplelidt)) than Norman blood. 
I know you, Clara Vera de ^'ere. 
Vou pins among your lialls and 

rao JaiiguJd liabt otyoar prouii eyoB 



QUEEN. 
Is wearied of the roUlns houM, 
In gluwiUB health, wlUi boundl 

But si;:Kcu^ne of n lagua disease. 



If I'll 
Btb( 



PiajH 



. ,fourlaudsl' 

iho orphaii-bOY to read, 

tke orpbau-glri to sew, 

-n for a human heart, 

le foolish yeomau go. 



THE MAY QTIKEH. 

Yoi; moat wake and call me early, call I 

me early, mother doar, W 

To-morrow 'lU be the bapplBBt tima at I 

allUiBgladNew-ycat! " 

Of all the glad New-year, mother, 

madaesC, merrieat day ; ■ 

Forl'mlobe6uaano'theMay,iaothBr, I 

fmlo Ise Queen o' the May, I 

Tliere's manyablaek, black eye, Ihey I 

TherG's Maiearet aixd Uaiy, 1 
Kata and Caroline : 

' ' as little Alice InaU'l 



So rni 6 



^^1^1:. 



1 sleep BO sound all night, mother. 

If you do not call mo loud nhoii 

day begins to break ; 
But I must gather knots of flowen. 

tQ_ lie Queen o' the Sfay, ,1 



lar.l'i 



a Queo 
■ toboiii 






As I came up the yalley whom think 1 
ye abould I Boe, I 

But Kobin leanlnc on the bridga ba- 

Ue thought of that ^arp look, molLer, 

1 gave liim yeiiBrday,— 
But r m lo bo Queen o- the May, 

uother,l'mtobeQueeno'tlieMay. 
Hs thought T was a ghost, motber, fcr 

Iwasall ill white, 
And I ran by blm without ipealililg, 

like adasli of light. 
They call nio crnal-liaartad, but I care 

nolivhanhcysay. 
For I'm to be Quacn o^ tha May, motller, 

I'm to be Queen o' the iit.j. 
They say he's dying all tor love, bat 
They sayblelieBrtlsbreBkiiiBimotliar, 
Tbece'a many a bolder lad 'ill noo me 

And I'm to bs Queen o' tlio May, 
motlH!! VmloDeQueeao'lbaM^. 



NEW YEAR'S EVE. 



27 



little Effie shall go with me to-morxow 

to Uie green, 
And you'll be there, too, mother, to Bee 

me made the Queen : 
For the shepherd lads on every side "ill 

come from far away, 
And I'm to be Queen o'the May,mother, 

Vm to be Queen o' the May. 

The honeysuckle round the porch has 

wov'n its wavy bowers, 
And by the meadow-trenches blow the 

faint sweet cuckoo-flowers ; 
And the wild marsh-marigold shines 

like fire in swamps and hollows 

AncTl'm tobe Queen o* the May,mother, 
I'm to be Queen o' the May. 

The night-winds come and go, mother, 

upon the meadow grass ; 
And the happy stars above them seem 

to brighten as they pass, 
There will not be ft drop of rain the 

whole of the hvelong day. 
AndFm to be Queen o' the May, mother, 

I'm to be Queen o' tueiviay. 

All the valley, mother, 'ill be treak and 

green ana still, 
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are 

over all the hUl, 
And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill 

merrily glance and play, 
For I'm to be Queen o' the May,motber, 

I'm to be Queen o' the May. 

So you must wake and call me early, 

call me early, mother dear, 
To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of 

all the glad New-year : 
To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the 

maddest merriest day, 
For I'm to be Queen o* the May , mother, 

I'm to be Queen o' the May. 



/ 



NEW-YEAR'S EVE. 

If you're waking call me early, call me 

early, mother dear. 
For I would see the sun rise upon the 

glad New-year. 
It is the last New-year that I shall ever 

see. 
Then you may lay me low i' the mould 

and iMuk no more of me. 

To-night I saw the sun set : he set and 

left behind 
Tho good old year, the dear old time, 

and all my peace of miud ; 
And the New-year's coming up,mother, 

but 1 shall never see 
Tbh blossom on the blackthorn, the 

les^ upon the tree. 

Last May we made a crown of flowers ; 

wo had a merrv day ; 
Beneath the hawthorn on the green 

tbey made me Oneen of May : 
And we danced shout tho may-pole 

Mad in the bazel copae, 



I 



Till Charles'c Wain came out above the 
tall white chimney tops. 

There's not a flower on all the hills : 

the frost is on the pane : 
I only wish to live till the snowdrops 

come again : 
I wish the snow would melt and the 

sun come out on high : 
I long to see a flower so before the day 

Idle. 

The building rook 'ill caw from the 

windy tall elm-tree, 
And the tufted plover pipe along the 

fallow lea. 
And the swallow 'ill come back again 

with summer o'er the wave. 
But I shall lie alone, mother, within 

the mouldering grave. 

Upon the chancel-casement, and ni)on 

that grave of mine. 
In the early early morning the summer 

sun 'ill shine. 
Before the red cock crows from the 

farm upon the hill. 
When you are waim-asleep, mother, 

and all the world is still. 

When the flowers come again, mother, 

beneath the waning light. 
You'll never see me more in the long 

gray fields at night : 
When from the dry dark wold the 

summer airs blow cool 
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, 

and the bulrush in the pool. 

You'll bury me, my mother, just 

beneath the hawthorn shade, 
And you'll come sometimes and see me 

where I am lowly laid. 
I shall not forget you, mother, I shall 

hear you when you pass, 
With your feet above my head in the 

long and pleasant grass. 

I have been wild and wayward, but 

you'll forgive me now ; 
You'll kiss me, my own mother, and 

forgive me ere I go ; 
Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let 

your grief be wild. 
You should not fret for me, mother, 

you have another child. 

If I can I'll come again, mother, from 

out my resting-place ; 
Tho' you'll not see me, mother, I shall 

look upon your face ; 
Tho' I cannot speak a word, I shall 

harkeii what you say, 
And be often, often with you when 

you think I'm far away. 

Good-night, good-night, when I have 

said gooctnight for ever more. 
And you see me carried out from the 

threshold of tho door ; 
Don'tletEfllecomo to ^ee xnto WXILtk^ 

grave be gTOwina g;reeTv \ 
jShe'll be a better cM\d V> "S^^ ^'•^B^Dl 

ever I have been. 



Bhe'll flncl mj gardi 

flboll never enrdi 
Bot teU her.wEon 



CONCLUSION. 
is upon the 



doivtutil tliebui 
iiotUer -. call mo 



61 od Na«-yeat 
■ you' '-' 

■ early, 



'akiDg, call jjie.aaU u 



CONCLUSION. 



yel aUvB I am : 
And in the ticliisallt 

Hov sadtv. I leniembi 

loB oftlifl year 1 
Ttt lUelwfore flie eno 



ic young larali'B voice 

tho land about, and 
a tbnt blow, 
ia (laath tbn" lilo to 



:lergjm!iD, 



nd that good man, the 

haa lold me words of pi 
bleseinaB ou hte 1tln<]ly voice and aa 

MiHirverhalrl 

" ■ ■ wings on htB wholo life long, 

BBiniisoiible kindly heart and on 
ia BlVver head ! 

3uaand times I Meet liim, aa he 
□elt Ijeaido my t>ed- 
s tanaht me all tlie mercy, for ha 

iboWdmenlltlieeiii. 
ow, tho' my lamp waa lighted late, 
tiiero'B One ■■■"' '— — '■■ ■ 




that died for Die. 



All In the wild Marcb-mornlng I heai4 

the aiigeLa call. 
It WAS wbeii the moon was setting, anS 

the dark was over nil; 
The trees began lo oiilcner, and Qia 

wlad began to raii. 
And in the wild Marcb^iuoming I 

hoBtdlhemcallmyaool, 
For lyliiE broad awalio I tliougb t oC you 
I saw you sitting in 1^ house, and I 

With all my Mrongth I pr 

andsnltelt reKign'd 

And u:j Uie valley ivmi 

1 thou^iitthat it waa fanoy, and I liB- 

Aud then did soniethlilg speak lo ma 

—I linotrnot what was said ; 
For great delight and sliudderiug took 

hold ot Blf my mind. 
And up the valley i-oine uraln the 

musie on The wind. 
But von were sleeping and I snld. " It'i 

not tor llieni : it's mine." 
And if It Foinee three times, lUioaglit, 



I 



-eU of 



i 



Itliinkmyllmaisnear. Ilm 
^Bsed musio went (hat way n 
r myael/,'indo&,' I rare not it 



CUORIC 

And Uisre to w^t a little while Utl iroa 

KDd £me i»>nie— 
To lie TiUihi the ligbt at Ood, u I lie 

upon Tout breut— 
And tlis wicked ceiH from ttonbllog, 

and llie wear; are at r«et. 

THE L0T0S-EATER3. 

" Cohbaog 1 ha laid, and pointed ta- 

"TliiH mounting 'wave will loU na 

Bhoreward eoon." 
In tbe afternoon tliey came snlo a land, 
In which It «aenied alwaji attemuou. 
AllrouiidthecoBitthelaiignldalidid i 

Breathing' like one that halh a wear; I 

Foll-faeed abore the Tallef Blood the 

And Uke a downward smoke, the ilen 

AloDR the clilT lo tall and paniis an<i 
faUdidieom. 

some like a down- 
of thlnneat lawn, 



waidmioke. 
Blow-dropptng Tell 

And tome thro' waTeriog lights and 

■hadom broke, 
BoUIr ' 



a alumbtona sheet of foam 



woven eopse. 
charmed sanj 
le red West ; thro' 



Ihey saw the gleaming ilTer seaward 

PiDin the inner laud : far off, three 

Three aUent iilniiaeles of aged snow. 
Stood sonset-flash'd ; and, dew'd with 

sbowerr drops, 
Up^omb the BhadowT pine abore the 

llnger'd tow adown 

. ._. ..jo'niouiitalneleflB 

the dale 
Waa seen far Inland, and the yellow 

Botder'd with pahn, and many a wind- 

iDg Talo 
And meadow, tat with slender galln- 

gale; 

A luid where oil things always seem'd 

And ronnd aboat tbe keel wlthta«eB 

DariE faces pale sgainat that may 

Tba mild-eyed melandioly Lotoi-eat- 

Bnimhe* they bore of that enchanted 

LadAnwiui flower and fmlt, whereof 

theynTO 
Td each, but whoio did receive of them, 

Ihr Caraw^ did «aam U^ moarn tatd 



On alien shon 



and If hlB fellow 
aa voleoa from the 
le Bflem-d yet all 
. ears his beating 
L apon the yallow 



Of eiili, and wife, and alava : but 
Most weary seem'd Iha aea, weary the 
Weary the wandering flelda of barren 
Then some one said, " We will retum 
And all at once Ihay Bang, " Our Island 



Is far 



e wUIm 



cHOKic soxa. 

TsEBE IB Bweet muBJc here that softer 

falls 
Than petals from blown roses on the 

OrSgbt^Gws on still waters between 

wills 
Of shadowy granite, In a gleaming 

MneloUiaf. gentler on tha spirit Ues, 

Than tlr'd eyelids upon Cii'd eyes i 

" — '- •*— • brings Bi — • -' — -■ 



.e blissful skies, 
be mOBB tbe Ivies cr 



Why are we welgb'd upon with heavi. 
And utterly consumed with sharp dis- 
Whlle all things else have reBtfrom 



And make' perpetual moan, 

Still from one sorrow lo anolher 

thrown; 
Not ever fold oar wings, 
And caafle from wandaringfl. 
Nor steep our biowsin slumber's holy 

balm; 
Nor barken what the lni>erBDltUa\it«p, 
"IlerelBno Joy bntoaliov' 
Why should we only tol\, tbe lOOt SIA 
crown of tbinp? 



V 



CHORIC SONG. 



The (oldad lenf Is woo 



Nighbly den-led; ai'id 
Palla. and floaM Btlowi 



Lol I 



nitJi «■ 



. _Jl-Juioed -,,-, „ -.- 

mellow. 
DiopB In a Bilent antnmn night. 
All lU allotted leiiutli of duya, 
The Dowor rlpeiia fii Its place, 
BIpens and f udM, aiid falls, and bath 

RulrioolBd in the fruitful roll. 

Hateful is the dsik-blno ek;. 



Fast. 



Let u] 



a yonder SI 



jid ibelr warm tean : bat all hatb 

suSer'debsjiKe, 
^r surelv now oar honsehold henrtlia 



IE yellon 
uier light, 



lEing 



Before them of the 
And our great deeds. 



on yea 



halt-toTgotI 
Ib there ca'nfuaion in the liltia iaie? 
Let what Is brukeii su remain. 
ThB Gods are liHrd In rotondle; 

■Tis hard to uptth- nnlcr i^is<-p nsraln 

TroQhIo 

3jDug labor u 






:e teak to heorla w« 



It with m. 



little while our lips are du 
ine. What t» It Uial will ii 

and parcels of the dieadful 
What pleasme cai 



war with qtII ? Is Chora any pence 
II ever climbing up tha climbing 

All thlngsliaie rest, and tlpeii toward 

In silence \ lipen, tall and cease ; 
"■ 1 US long reBior death, dark deatli, 
31 dreamful ease. 

Eowflweet It vere, hearing tbe down- 

..-Jiiialf-BliutByes ever 1o seem 
Falling uleep in a half dr 
"■- '-Bam and dream, ■" 

_jr light. 
Which wiM not leave the myrrh-baBh 

on the height ; 
To hear each nthcr'nnblaper'd speech; 
Sating tJie Lotos day by day. 
To watch the crbiping rlpplos on tbe 

jid tender carving lines of oreainy 

To iond our heart" and spirits wholly 
ON) tbe Influence of mlld-mlndedmelan. 
eboly ; 



blowing lowlj) 
With Imlf-drnpt eyelids Btlll, 
Bcnealb a besven dailt aud bo 
To WBlob Uio long bright rlvt 

H!b wat*etafrom Uia purple blU — 
Tf btar Iba dewy acboea calling 
From oavo to cove tliro' the thlck- 

twlnedviiie — 
To tialidi the emciald-coloT'd WHtei 

TIlio' manyawov'n acantbus-wrealb 

diTlnel 
Only to bear and see l^e fi 

tieneath the plue. 

ooms in 

iioios blows by every winding 

All day the wind bieatbes low w 



) 




A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. 



at 



On the hnis like Gods together, care- 
less of msukind. 
For they lie beside their iiectar, and 

the bolts are hurl'd 
Far below them in the vaUeys, and the 

clouds are lightly curPd 
Round their golden houses, girdled 

with the gleaming world: 
Where they smile in secret, looking 

over wasted lands. 
Blight and f andne, plague and earth- 
quake, roaring deeps and fiery 

sands, 
Clan^ug fights, and flaming towns, and 

sinking ships, and praying hands. 
But they smile, thev find a music cen- 
tred in a doleful song 
Steaming up, a lamentation and an 

ancient tale of wrong. 
Like a tale of little meaning tho* the 

words are strong, 
Chanted from an ill-used race of men 

that cleave the soil, 
Sow the seed, and reap the harvest 

with enduring toil, 
Storine yearly little dues of wheat, 

ana wine and oil; 
Till they perish and they suffer— some 

'tis whisper'd— down in hell 
Suffer endless anguish, others in Ely- 

sian valleys dwell. 
Besting weary limbs at last on beds of 

asphodel. 
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet 

than toil, the shore 
Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, 

wind and wave ami oar; 
O reit ye, brother mariners, we will 

not wander more. 



A DREAM O? FAIR WOMEN. 

I HEAD, before my eyelids dropt their 
shadCf 
" The Legend qf Good Women,** long 
ago 
Sung by the morning star of song, who 
made 
His music heard below ; 

Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose 
sweet breath 
Preluded those melodious bursts, 
that fill 
The spacious times of great Elizabeth 
Wiui sounds that echo still. 

And, for a while, the knowledge of hia 
arc 
Held me above the subject, as strong 
sales 
Hold swollen clouds from raining, tho' 
my heart. 
Brimful of those wild tales, 

Charged both mine eyes with tears. In 
every land 
I saw, wherever light illumineth. 
Beanly and anguish walking hand in 
habd 
XIm ^UfWJXwaidMlcpe to death. 



I 



Those far-renowned brides of ancient 
song 
Peopled the hollow dark, like burn- 
ing stars. 
And I neard sounds of insult, shame^ 
and wrong, 
And trumpets blown for wars ; 

And clattering flints battei-'d with 
clanging hoofs: 
And I saw crowds in columned sanc- 
tuaries ; 
And forms that pass'd at windows and 
on roofs 
Of marble palaces ; 

Corpses across the threshold ; heroes 
tall 

Dislodging pinnacle and parapet 
Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall; 

Lances in ambush set ; 

And high shrine-doors burst thro' with 
heated blasts 
That run before the fluttering 
tongues of fire ; 
White surf wind-Bcatter*d over sails 
and masts, 
And ever climbing higher ; 

Squadrons and squares of men in 
brazen platos ; 
ScafTulds, still sueetsof water, divers 
woes. 
Ranges of glinunering vaults with iron 
grates, 
And hush'd seraglios. 

So shai>e chased shape as swift as, 
when to land 
Bluster the winds and tides the self- 
same way, 
Crisp foam-flakes soud along the level 
sand, 
Tom from the fringe of spray. 

I started once, or seem'd to start in 
pain. 
Resolved on noble things, and strove 
to speak, 
As when i great thought strikes along 
the bram. 
And flushes all tho cheek. 

And once my arm was lifted to hew 
down 
A cavSlier from oflF his saddle-bow. 
That bore a lady from a leaguer'd 
town; 
And then, I know not how, 

All those sharp fancies, by down-laps- 
ing thought 
Stream'd onward, lost their edges, 
and « . creep 
Roird on each o'her, rounded, 
smooth'd. and brought 
Into iiie gulf 3 of sleep. 

At last methought that I had wander'd 
far 

In an old wood: f resh-wash'd in cool- 
est dew. 

The maiden splendors of l\iQ -moxc&au^ \ 
star 
Shook in the stediaatbVod* 



\ 



A DREAM OF 
(,lmtrefl-bal«Hdidatt>op Aud 

Dpaii the duakr biuahwood under- 
iicsth 
rbeU broful Gurrfid branchcBf flcilDed 
with clearer 



FAIR WOMEN. 

No Dmrrel, lovecelgn lojy : in Jait 
Mfaelf for sucli a tiice bod boldly 
D-ppeal'd 



New It 



muai 



heatb. 
morn had died, her Joui'- 



I In the dnmb 



Ab that Hide forest. Growths of jna- 
Tbelr hUBilJ araiB festoouing tcee to 

AudaL ihi! loot lUra'luab green gnuiea 
The red Biiomona. 

I knew the flowera, I kuow Iho loaroa, 
Tbo teactul ellmmet of tlia languid 

On (liDCe long, rank, dork wood-volkB 



Leading froi 
Tbe amoll of 



I In the 



Tbrill'd thro' mine eara In that ua- 
liliterul i^llme, 
" Paas (rooly thro' : the wood Is all 

rndltLeeiidoftlmo." 
At Isnelh I saw a Uay within call. 

Stiller Uiau chisell'd uorblo, sUnd- 
1ns tliere : 
A danghler of the jiods. divinely tall, 

And most divluvtyfai,'. 
Ear lorellnees wltb shame and with 



The star-like mirrowa of Ininiottnl cjos, 

Spoke slovty iit bet plat^e. 
*^1 hadiETeat Lioauty: ask thou natnij 

Mo one caik be more wise thnn dcs- 
Uan; drew swords and died. Wheie'or 



I 



le that buxhI I" 



rntQl k 



a blasted 



ButBhe, with sick mA b 

To her fall height ben 
"My youtli." Bbo s^d. 

This wamaii •sm tbe oauae. 
1 woB cut oif from hope In that Bad 

WbShy^t to iiama my splitt loathes 
ipouhlsfaee; 



blinded with m 



n>B to apeak : my Tolee «aa 
thick with Bbjha 

ill ailream. Siiuly I oonld des«iT 
Item black-bearded Idngv with 



lleku'd as they lay 



The crowds, the temc 

andlheaboro: 

The blight dealli quiTsr' 



Whereto the other with Q downward 

" I wDDld the white cold hoav- 
nlungine foam, 
IVhirl'd by the wind, had ruUM aia 
deep lielow. 
Then when I loft my home." 
ner slow full words sank thro' tha 
Aa thnnder-diops fall on a aleeplnf 
Sndden I lieard a lolce that oried, 

I turning saw, throned on a H< 



roll'd ! 

lueeu, with Bwartby dieelu Uidifl 
bold black eyes. ■ 



in by change, ami tol I 



A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. 



83 



** Nay— yet it chafes me that I could 
not bend 
One will ; nor tame and tutor with 
mine eye 
iThat dull cold-blooded Caesar. Pry- 
thee, friend, 
Where is Mark Antony ? 

** The man, my lover, with whom I rode 
sublime 
On fortune's neck ; we sat as God by 
God: 
The Nilus would have risen before his 
time 
And flooded at our nod. 

" We drank the Libyan Sun to sleep, 
and lit 
Lamps which outbum'd Canopus. 
O my life 
In Egypt r O the dalliance and the wit, 
The natiery and the strife, 

And the wild kiss, when fresh from 
war's alarms. 

My Hercules, my Roman Antony, 
My mailed Bacchus leapt into my aims. 

Contented there to die I 

And there he died : and when I heard 
mv name 
Sigh'd forth with life I would not 
brook my fear 
Of the other : with a worm I balk*d 
his fame. 
What else was left? look here I ** 

(With that she tore her robe apart, and 
half 
The polish'd argent of her breast to 
sight 
Laid bare. Thereto she pointed with 
a laugh. 
Showing the aspick*s bite.) 

^1 died a Queen. The Roman soli^ier 
found 
Me lying dead, my crown about my 
brows, 
A name for ever !— lying robed and 
crown'd. 
Worthy a Roman spouse.' 

Her warbling voice, a lyre of widest 
range 
Struck Dy all passion, did fall down 
and glance 
From tone to tone, and glided thro* all 
change 
Of liveliest utterance. 

When she made i>ause I knew not for 
delight ; 
Because with sudden motion from 
the around 
She raised her piercing orbs, and fill'd 
with light 
The interval of sound. 

Btill with their fires Love tipt his keen- 
est darts: 
As once they drew into two burning 
rings 



•f 



All beams of Love, melting the mighty 
hearts 
Of captains and of kings. 

Slowly my sense undazzled. Then I 
lieard 
A noise of some one coming thro* the 
lawn. 
And singing clearer than the crested 
bird. 
That claps his wings at dawn. 

" The torrent brooks of hallow*d Israel 
Fi-om craggy hollows pouring, lato 
and soon, 
Sound all nisht long, in falling t^o' 
the dell. 
Far-heard beneath the moon. 

'* The balmy moon of blessed Israel 
Floods all the deep-blue gloom with 
beams divine : 
All night the splintered crags that wall 
the dell 
With spires of silver shine.** 

As one that mnseth where broad sun- 
shine laves 
The lawn by some cathedral, thro* 
the door 
Hearing the holy organ rolling waves 
Of sound on roof and floor 

Within, and anthem sung, is charm*d 
and tied 
To where he stands, — so stood I, 
when that flow 
Of music left the lips of her that died 
To save her father's vow ; 

The daughter of the warrior Gileadite. 
A maiden pure ; as when she went 

along 
From Mizpeh's tower*d gate with 
welcome light. 
With timbrel and with song. 

My words leapt forth : " Heaven heads 
the count of crimes 
With that wild oath.'* She render'd 
answer high : 
" Not so, nor once alone : a thousand 
times 
I would be bom and die. 

** Single I grew, like some green plant, 
whoso root 
Creeps to the garden water-pipes be- 
neath, 

Feeding the flower ; but ere my flower 
to fruit 

Changed, I was ripe for death. 

" My Crod, my land, my father— thesa 

did move 
. Me from my bliss of life, that Naturo 

gave, 
Lower'd softly with a threefold cord of 

love 
Down to a silent grave. 

" And I went mourning, 'No faJT 
Hebrew boy 




" Tho light whitB cloud b» 
We lieanl tlia llnii roar 



" ■WlBii lis 111 

llie sHv, 

Strengtli cm 



. night vit1illyin~ 
leverlaitlnaliills. 



u roll'd Inio 



II, hip ni 



1 thlgti, 



On AruDii unto MInnelh." Here bsi 

Glow'd, lu I look'd at her. 
She lock'd her Ilpa : Bhe loft me where 
Lo Ood," Ghe snug, nud iiaat 
Thrlddiiig the sombio boakagc of the 

Towai'il tha moniiiig-Btnr. 
LoBlng her carol I stood pciisItcIv. 

'■• — e that [ram a eosamuiit leans 

Idnlgbt bells ccaie ringing 



Mn head. 



Indlheoldyoa 



"Aloa!^ 



n lowTolre, full of tare, 



c Kosamoitd, vhom n 



To wlioin th 


EgypOnn 


: " O. jou 














The dagger thro' her aide 





























^Toru hroiLdtfu'd ou tho borderH c 
dark, 
Ere I saw ber, who planp'd ii' 

HeriouTder'drathflr'B head, or Joan ot 

AllgHtotaildeiii 

Other, who knewl 

quiah Dealli, 



her king, 
Drew forth the polioi 






lovliigup, than Itrom I 

tell o-or 

i!id nud sight. 'With II 



But no two dreama n 
Is when a soul laino 

Desirinywhtt' 
Y^r^i^^Mlj^ 



ack of dr«anii m 

re tike. 

Its, which hatb I 
.lugled with psit I 
ineTerbeeiprasC I 
tho' cuU'd vritH I 



M A K A H E T. 
O BWEKT palp Margaret, 

Fh "ITt your e"a wfth tMrful p , 

.llia nil lou light on a talllue «huwerr 
nio lent you, lore jcut ii«irtulda 
Of paualvo thought aud aapdut pi 



TBE DEATH OP 

loly Bireet and trail 

From the weuvsnl-wliidtog II<>(m1, 
From the evening-lighted woal, 
Fnm all tbiusi oulwanl you bare 

That dimples joa 



Kncirclea all the 

OI dolntr boitow nitlioi 



iiispareiic i^lieeki 
■i-i- nnil (eedetli 
illght 



Moviug tbro' 4 Seecy ulftbt. 
Ton love, lemalnliig peacefully, 



Tour Bplrit iB the cBJmed eea 
Laidliy tlie tumult o( tie flght 

Touar* tie evening Blar-alwajr 
Bemalnliig tMtwixt dark and bright I 

Lnll'd ecLoes oI lalKirlooi du 
Come to TOD, gleanu of ntauaw ligh 
Float b; jou tut th^ Tetgeot idglit. 

Wbat can It natter, Margaret, 
What wmgt below the waoiug Btan 

The llonJiwrt, Plantamiiet, 
Sang laakloB thro' hii piiiiou bars? 
Exquisite Margaret, frho can tell 

nie la*t wild Uiought of Chfttelet, 
Jiut ere the falling axe m pari 
The burning braiji tram tbe (mi 

Even ill her Bight he loved HO veil ? 



d lew aeriallj bine. 



Bat ever trrmbll 
Ofdaiiity-woful 



It bine, 
ling tbro' 



Hi* BTCliilig 11: 

Movli 



Id lalnt. rainy tlghlHi 



n nn your cheeli : 



TBE Or.D YEAR. 

Look doirn, and let yotiT bine < 
Upon me Ihro' the Jaomliie-IeaTei 
THE BLACKBIRD. 
O BLACKBiBD 1 sliig me Bometlilng 
WtillQ M the nelgbbois Bhoot thee 
I keup emooth plats of fruitful 
trarble, eat and 



TheeB 



dweU. 
HlleiB 



ind the t 



leall 



riiiige of la 
The unn'ettod black-haarts ripen 

All tblue, agBlnit the garOeii nail. 

Yet, tho- 1 spared thee all the epri 
-ifiy sole ll«LlgLt la. Sitting etill, 
With that cold dagger ot Uir bill 

To fret the 8umtusr>u"«iliig. 

A golden bill ! the silver tongue, 
Cold February loved, is diy : 

"'— the melody 

tauions once, when 



Plenty --. 
That made 

And In the sultry garden-sqnarea, 
^ow tby flute-uoteA ore chajiged to 

I hear thea not at all, or boam 
Ab when a hawker hawks bU wares. 
Take warning ! ha that will not iing 
Wlilk you 9UU prospers In the blue. 
Shall alng for want, ere leaves are 

Canght lit the frozen palms of Spring. 
THE DEATH OF THE OLD TEAK. 
Poll knee-deep Ues the uinli 
And the winier wind* are wearily 

Shlnji: 
he cbureh-bell Bsd and alow. 
And tread softly and speak low 
For the old year lies n-dylng. 
Old year, you must not A& ; 
You same to us so readily. 
You lived with ue eo eleiufUy, 
Old yeuv you shall not die. 
He lleth atid : ha doth not move I 
3t see the dawn o[ day. 

He gave me a friend, and a true trua 
And the^ew-year will tahe'em away. 



Solo 






rou hav 



with at 



He froth'il Ms bumpers to thebrii 
A folllar vear we ahall nut see. 
But tho' hla eyen are waslug dim. 
And tbo' hlB foes apeak ill oE V^ 
ile was a friend to me. 
Old year, you abAll uot d^ ■, 



V 



■v 



Efwaa full of Joke ai 
Bat Bll his merry qui 
■Xo nee lilm die, acrasi 

HiB son and lieii datli , 

But lie' 11 be dead before. 

Everj one for bia owu. 

The night 1b BUrry and cold, mj 

And the New-yeai blithe and bold, 
my friend, 

Bow bard he breathsB 1 oier the snow 
I bnatd just HOW Uxt ctowlug eoek. 
The Bhadovra Iticker to suid lin ; 
The vricket cblri»: lite light burns 

'Tls nearly twelve o'clock. 

Shake hands, before jou die. 

Old Yflar, we'll dearly rue for yon : 

What is it we fan do (or you ? 

Speak o»l before j-ou die. 
HiB face Ih groninB Bbani and thin. 
Alaidi ! our ttleuu la gone, 
Clote up bis eysg : lio up his cMii ; 
Bteii (nmi Ihe ivriiae, anil let liiui la 
That standelh there alont, 

There's s tiew foot on the Soor, my 



A new face at the door, 

TO J. S. 

Toe wind, that beats the mountain, 
bloWH 

More HfUy round the onen wold. 
And oenily rames the world Id tliose 

T-hat are cast in gentle mould. 
And me this knowledRO bolder made, 

Or else I Inul not dared lo flow 
In thma worda Ujwanl you, and invade 

Even with a verse jour holy woe. 
•Xlaatrance Ihatlliospwaleon on moat, 

TUoxe ilk whose laps our limbs aiv 

GwlrivBHslove. Somclhlnc lo love 
Helendsus ; but, when lov.i w grown 

FnUs off,knd lovals le£t alone. 
Tills is the cnrse of time. Alas! 

Ill grtef I am not all uiilcani'd ; 
Once Ibio' mine own doors Death did 

He wilt not smile — ^not speak to me 
Onte more. Two years his ubair is 

Empty before nn. That was he 
tPilhoui whose lifu 1 bad nut been. 



/. .5. 

Tour loss is rater: lor thl 
Koee with yon thro' a 111 

Of heaven, nor bavina wni 
Shot on the sadden Into 
knew your brother : bia m 



1 honor mnl bis living worth ; 

A man more pure and Bold ami Just 

Was never boni into tie eanh. 



; have not look'd upon yi 



re is more wise Ihaii I 



inlts Uie liiwaid' 



ueh pleasun. Let hof will 
o weep or not tu wet 
r, " God'B ordlnB.nPB 



lliat talieB away a noble mint 
His memory lono will lire nlon 

In alt our beails, as mauinfn 
TliBi broods above tlie fallen bl_, 

Auil dwells in heaven hUf the ulshW 



Talnsolace! Memory standing ni 
.-,. ,1 ..„„ „,„. ....1 <„ her l^.«, 

InQuth, 



ler voice 
Dropt oi 






Both are my friouda, ouil iny tl 
BloedeUi for bolh ; yet it may be 
'Wocils weaker (ban your grief woulA 

Criefmore. "Iworo betloi I BboiiM 

AlUiouuh rnvselfeould almost 
The place (if blni tbat sleeps 

Slepp sweetly, tender heart, Ii 
Sleep, holy spirll, blessed sc 



i 



I 



TO J. S. 



37 



It is tbe lud that freemen tUl, 
That nlbQV^alted yzeedom choie, 
The laud, where girt with friends or 
foes 

A mau may speak the thing he will ; 

A land of settled government, 
A land of Just and old renovm. 
Where Freedom broadens slowly 
down 

From precedent to precedent : 

Where faction seldom gathers head, 
Bat by degrees to f uhiess wroaght, 
The strength of some diffusive 
thought [spread. 

Hath time and space to work and 

Should banded unions persecute 
Opinion, and induce a time 
When sinsle thought is civil crime, 

And individual freedom mute ; 

Tho* Power should make from land to 
land 

The name of Britain trebly great — 

Tho* every channel of the State 
Should almost choke with golden sand- 
Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth. 

Wild wind ! I seek a warmer sky. 

And I will see before 1 die 
The palms and temples of the South. 

Of old sat Freedom on the heights, 
Tiie thunders breaking at her feet : 

Above her shook the starry lights : 
She heard the torrents meet. 

There in her place she did rejoice, 
Self-gatherd in her prophet-mind. 

But fragments of her miztity voice 
Game rolling on the wind. 

Then stept she down thro* town and 
field 

To minffle with the human r»ce, 
And part oy part tameii reveal'd 

The fullness of her face— 

Grave mother of majestic works, 
From her isle-altar gazing down. 

Who, God-like, grasps tiie tiiple forks, 
And King-like, wears the crown : 

Her open eyes desire the truth. 

The wisdom of a thousand years 
Is in them. May perpetual youth 

Keep dry their light from tears ; 

That her fair form may stand and 
shine. 
Make bright our days and light our 

dreanvst 
Turning to scorn with lips divine 
The falsehood of extremes ! 



Love thou thy land, with love far- 
brought 
From out the storied Past, and used 
Within the Present, but transfused. 

lliro' future time by power of thought. 

True love tiim*d round on fixed poles. 
Love, that endures not sordid ends. 
For English natures, freemen, friends 

Thy brothers and immortai soula. 



/ 



But pamper not a hastv time. 
Nor feed with crude ImaginingB 
The herd, wild hearts uid zeebl« 
wings, 

That every sophister can lime. 

Deliver not the tasks of might 
To weakness, neither hide the ray 
From those, not blind, who wail fox 
day, 

Tho' Bitting girt with doubtful Ught. 

Make knowledge circle with the winds; 
But let ber herald, Reverence, fly 
Before her to whatever sky 

Bear seed of men and growth of minds. 

Watch what main-currents draw tlie 
years : 
Cut Prejudice aeainst the grain : 
But gentle wonu are always gain : 

Regard the weakness of thy peers : 

Nor toil for title, place, or touch 
Of pension, neither count on praise : 
It erows to guerdon after-days : 

Nor deal in watch-words over much : 

Not clinging to some ancient saw ; 
Not master'd by some modem term t 
Not swift nor slow to clumge, but 
firm : 

And in its season bring the law ; 

That from Discussion's lip may fall 
With Life, that, working strongly, 

binds — 
Set in all lights by many minds* 

To close the interests of all. 

For Nature also, cold and warm. 
And moist and dry, devising long. 
Thro* many agents making strong, 

Matures the inmvidual form. 

Meet is it changes should control 
Our being, lest we rust in ease. 
We all aro changed by still decrees, 

All but the basis of the soul. 

So let the change which comes be free 
To ingroove itself with that, which 

flies. 
And work, a joint of state, that plies 

Its oflice, moved with sympathy. 

A saying, hard to shape in act ; 
For all the past of Time reveals 
A bridal dawn of thunder-peals. 

Wherever Thought hath weaded Fact 

Ev'n now we hear with inward strife 
A motion toiling in the gloom— 
The Spirit of the years to come 

Yearning to mix himself with Life 

A slow-deyelop*d stren^h awaits 
Completion in a painful school 
Phantoms of other forms of rule, 

New Majesties of mighty States — 

The warders of the growing hour, ' 
But vague in vapor, hard to mark ; 
And round them sea axid.Q\T ^x«^«a^~ 

With great coutxiva\ice% ol Yo'vi^t. 







N 



OC m&ny cbanaee, aptlv joln'd, 

b iKx&ed Corlii [tw Hcoiul wliole. 

ItogBni Hmdalloii. lest Uib bohI 
01 ULn^ord [sue the rising wluil i 
A wind to pnff vour iilol-flres. 

Aiul luwr I>uu[ luLea on Uio heul ; 

ToBlmiiie thu boost so ntuii uutUe, 
That «« aie wiaei lliaii our airea. 
ifa yet, if Nature's evil Btur 



ronUn'dlnljlood; 



M pBw tbe ItoulilHl laud, llLe 

less, Uio' doBH of FH"ti(in bay, 
nulj serve Lis liiixd li> deed utid 

rtHlu, U knowledge bring the 

: knowledge talics ilia sword 
iwsj- 
WonM love (he gleania of good thai 

From Bilber sWe, nor veil his Pve«' 
And if some dremlful need sliouid 

"Wuiild itrihe, aud flnnly, and one 

To-morrow vet would reap lo-day. 
As we bexr blosmmx of ihc .lead : 
Earn well the thrifty nioniha, nor 

Bair Hssle, haU-alsler to Delay. 
THE GOOSE. 



EPIC. 
And feeding high, unit livine BoTL 
Urew plumji and able-boded ; 



Bui alii thu more the while eoose laid 

it fllBck'd aud cackled louder. 
It elutter'd here. It cbuekled Uwra ; 



le held a roobo upon Ida 
Heullor'drhjmeBndr 
Here, lake tlie gouae, a 

It™™" 



1 ietp joa 



-/ 



>y (ho leg, 

The eooae let fall aiioldon egg 
Wfih cackle and with clatter. 

She dropt tbe gooae, and cangbt tbe 
And rikii to tell her xipigUboi 
And reEttd from her 1 



irsed henell 



nio Booso Mew tluB way nudllBW that, ■ 
And lili'd tbe bouse with clamor. 

\t head and heels upon Iho floor 
hare atrodea alrnuger to tliBdoot, 






ok the 









lep yon warm, 
wind rang from park and 

Ami round Ibe Blllog mmblod. 
Till rU lliu Ubiea danced sg^n, 

And bale Ibe ehirane: —•* 

The glnai 



lumbied. 



The blBM V 
er rnu blev 
And a whirl v 



niii hi 



in all aides breaking looae 
llcr tiDusflhoKI Hed the danger, 
Qudih »be. ■■ Tbe Devtl lake the gnose, 
And God foi-gel tlie atiaoger I '' 

THE EPIC. 
At Franrls Allen's ou tbe Chrletmaa- 
Tho rr'ma of forfeits done— Iho ^rla 
Bunenlli the saered bush and poat 
poet Everard 



10 pnrsun Holm 
Hnll, 



or dwliidWl down to afrme 
' old niKFks like thle i UII I, 
ting el[-hta that day upou Uib 



MORTE ly ARTHUR. 



39 



/ 



Wheruy ilixee times slipping from the 

outer edge. 
I biuup*d tEe ice into three several 

stars, 
Fell in a doze ; and hulf -awake I heard 
The parson taking wide and wider 

sweeps, 
Now harping on the church-commis- 
sioners. 
Now hawkmg at Geology and schism : 
Until I woke, and found him settled 

down 
Upon the general decay of faith 
Bight thro' the world, ** at home was 

Uttle left, 
And none abroad: there was no an- 
chor, none. 
To hold oy." Francis, laughing, clapt 

his hand 
On £verard*s shoulder, with, "I hold 

by him." 
"And I," quoth Everard, " by the was- 
sail-bowl.** 
""Why yes,'* I said, "we knew your 

gift that way 
At college: but another which you 

had, 
I mean of verse (for so we held it 

then,) 
What came of that ? " ** You know," 

said Frank, "he burnt 
His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve 

books " — 
And then to me demanding why ? "Oh, 

sir. 
He thought that nothing new was said, 

or else 
Something so said 'twas nothing — 

that a truth 
Looks freshest in the fashion of the 

day: 
Qod knows : he has a mint of reasons : 

ask. 
It pleased me well enough." "Nay, 

nay," said Hall, 
*< Why take the style of those heroic 

times? 
For nature brings not back the Masto- 
don, 
Nor we those times; and why should 

any man 
Remodel models ? these twelve books 

of mine 
Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing- 
worth. 
Mere chaff and draff, much better 

burnt." "But I," 
Said Francis, "pick'd the eleventh 

from this hearth, 
And have it: keep a thing, its iise will 

come. 
I hoard itasasu^r-plumforllolmcs." 
He laugh'd, and I, though sleepy, like 

ahorse 
That hears the corn-bin open, prick'd 

my ears ; 
For I remember*d Everard's college 

fame 
When we were Freabmes : then at my 

xequegt 



I 



He brousht it; and the poet little 
urged. 

But with some prelude of disparage- 
ment, 

Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and 
aes. 

Deep-chested music, and to this re- 
sult. 



MORTE D'ARTHUR. 

So all day long the noise of battle 

roll'd 
Among the mountains by the winter 

sea: 
Until King Arthur's table, man by 

man. 
Had fall'n in Lyonness about their 

Lord, 
King Arthur : then, because his wound 

was deep. 
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights. 
And bore him to a chapel nigh the fiela, 
A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of barren 

land. 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, and the moon waa 

full. 
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi- 
vere : 
"The sequel of to-day un'^olders nil 
The gooilliest fellowship of famous 

knights 
Whereof this world holds record. Such 

a sleep 
They sleep— the men I loved. I think 

that we 
Shall never more, at any future time. 
Delight our souls with talk of knightly 

deeds. 
Walking about the gardens and the 

halls 
Of Camclot, as in the days that were. 
I perish by this people \7liich I made, — 
Tho' Merlin sware that I Ehould como 



afjain 



-but let what will 



To rule once more 

be, be, 
I am so deeply smitten thro* the helm 
That without help I cannot last till 

mom. 
Thou therefore take my brand Excali- 

bur, 
Which was my pride : for thou remem- 

berest how 
In those old days, one summer noon, 

an arm 
Rose up from out tho bosom of the 

lake. 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, won- 
derful, 
Holding the sword — and how I row'd 

across 
And took it, and have worn it, like a 

kinjij: 
And, wheresoever I atv\ wmxs ot \ftW 
Jn artertime,thla also ft\va\\ wVtvqvtdlX 
But now delay not: laJ5.o"EaLicaMte\a» 




MORTE DARTnUR. 



And fllus bim tai InM Uie middle 
^ wtuit tlioQ se^t. and liEhtl;- 



" Thoa bast belraj'd thy nature unA 

Kot ruiideringtrno answer, Mbese 
aiiy fealiy, iior Ilka a jioblo kiiieL 
For turet ilgn Lad foUow'd, o 



AldlesB, a1ona,aiid imitton tbro' the 

A ti(tlc ilijiig iiisf liarm u wounded 

Yet I liir heat wjll all pcrConn at 

Waleh what I neo, Bud llglilily bring 

So Baying, from tlis min'd akrino lia 

And in the moon alJiwart the place ol 

WliBre lay the mlahty boueBoT ancient 

Old knlihts, and over tliem the sea- 

Bhiill, chill, witb dakos oE foam, lie, 

Byil^EHg patha, and Juts of pointed 

Came on the sMnlng levels of the 

Tliere ' drew he forth tho hraud 
Excalibiir, 
Andu'erhlm, drawing It, the winter 

Brightening the akirta of a long cloud, 

And eparkleit keen with froflt SjrBJnst 

the hilt: 
For all the haft twhiklod with tUa, 

Myriads of topnz-llghts, and jaclnlh- 

Of Buljtlest Jewellery. Ho gaied ao 

That hnth his eyes were dazcled, as lie 

This TCa^'and that dividing the swift 

>w but at tJia last It 

ExcaHbur coneeal'd 

. — —iny-kiiotlfid wnterflagB. 

That whistled stilt and dry about ttie 

o strode hB back alow to the wounded 

King. 
Iheii spake lUng Arthur to Sir 

Brdivere : 
Host ihou 



miua. 



which I 



gave; 






thought i 



jw, 1 eliaigo th 

LI ait lief and dear, and do tha 
QiL-e, watch, and lightly bring 
went Sir Bedlvere the second 

Ills ridge, and paced beslile tl 
the dewy pebbles, flx'd i 

How eurlouBly and Blrangely chased. 
His palms together, and he cried 

Surely a precious thing, one worlhy 
Should thus be lust forever from th( 
light have iileuied the eyes ol 
What good siiould follow this, !f thlt 
What hann, undone ? deep lianii t< 
Seeing obaOieiice Is the bond o( ru 



tera it well to obey tl 



a king 



iig{salck,a 

What record, or *Iiat relic of my lord 
■^'■■juld bo t- -"-— ' — >— ■ ' — ^- 



tshould bo to aftertima, b 



made the hold Sir 
heard the rippls washing in tho 
'aler lapping on the 
»b iviooi replied King Arlliur 




Sttying. ' Khig Arthur's aword, Ei< 
Wrought by tho loueJy Einideii ot tho 
Kino yenrs abe wrought it, sitting li 



nil! g reverence, 
and much taata 

1 with Ms own 



MORTE D' ARTHUR. 



41 



Then spoke King Arthur, breathing 

heayily : 
^ What is it thon hast seen ? or 'what 

hast heard ? '* 
And answer made the bold Sir 

Bedivere : 
" I heard the water lappinc on the crag, 
And the long ripple washiug in the 

reeds." 
To whom replied King Arthur, much 
in wrath 
" Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue. 
Uukiiightly, traitor-hearted ! Woe is 

me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king, 
LakL widow*d of the power in m% eye 
That bow'd the will. I see thee what 

thou art. 
For thou, the latest-left of all my 

knights. 
In whom should meet the offices of all, 
Thou wouldst betray me for llio pre- 
cious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the 

eyes. 
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice. 
And the third time may prosper, get 

thee hence : 
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 
I will arise and slay thee with my 

hands.'* 
Then quickly rose Sir Bedirere, and 

ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, 

plunged 
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch*d 

the sword, 
And strongly wheel'd and threw it. 

The great brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of 

the moon. 
And flashing round and round, and 

whirrd in an arch. 
Shot liko a streamer of the northern 

mom. 
Seen where the moving isles of winter 

shock 
By night, with noises of the northern 

sea. 
So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur: 
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an 

arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, won- 
derful. 
And caught him by the hilt, and bran- 

dish'dhim 
Three times, and drew him under in 

the mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King . 
Then spoke King Arthur, drawing 

thicker breath : 
** Now see I by thine eyes that this is 

done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard 

or seen ? " 
And answer made the bold Sir Bedi- 

rere r 
''Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, 

imt the gems 



Should blind my purpose, for I never 

saw. 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I 

die, 
Not tho* I live three lives of mortal 

men. 
So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands I flung him, 

wheeling him ; 
But when I look'd again, behold an 

arm. 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, 

wonderful, 
That caught him by the hilt, and 

brandish'd him : 
Three limes, and urew him under in 

the mere." 
And answer made King Arthur, 
breathing hard : 
'* My end draws nigh ; 'tis time that I 

were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive 

my weipht. 
And bear me to the margin; yet I 

fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall 

die." 
So saving, from the pavement he 

hall rose. 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his 

arm. 
And looking wistfully with wide blue 

eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
Remorsefully rcganlcd thro' his tears. 
And would have spoken, but he found 

not words, 
Then took with care, and kneeling on 

one knee, 
O'er both his shoulders drew the lan- 

cuid hands, 
And rising bore him thro' the place of 

tombs. 
But, as he walk'd. King Arthur 

panted hard. 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his 

bed 
Wlien all the house is mute. So sigh*d 

tho King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 

** Quick, quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I ehall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from 

ridge to ridge. 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, 

as he wiilk'd, 
larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a 

cry 
Before. His own thought drove him 

like a goad. 
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and 

right 
The bare black cliff clang'd round him, 

as he based 
His feet on Juts of slippery CTa^tha.\ 

rang 
Sharp-fimitten with the dVi\\. ol scnsA^ 

heelfl— 



42 MORTE D' 

Audon a BUddea, lo 1 Uie Isiel lake. 
And Oie lung gloriea of Uie nlut 

Theu saw tbey liDw there hove 
dusky barge, 
Dark at a f uiieial ■carl from Btem 

Beiiealli them ; and descending <hi 

ThaC ail tlio decks wore deiiee ■K\ 

led, blac 
I— liy thcs 



All night In a naeto land, where no 

Or halh Fome, since Uie middiig of Iha 

Then monnni'd Arthur, " Flaco me 
in Uio targe," 
And to the barge they cEino. There 

Put tottli thett hands, and took Ihe 

King, and wept. 
Bat Bho, that rose the tallest of them 

Ajul fairest, laid his bead upon her 

And loosed the nhatler'd cssgue, and 









a against bis 

Striped with dark hlood: for all his 

lac^o mis wbtte 
And eolorleas, and like the wilhor'd 

Smote by the fresh heom of the 

Bprlnciiig oast 
Aad alt bis grearos and culu&ea dashed 

witi drops 
Of cnsot : and the light and lustrous 

That made his forehead like a rising 

nigh from (ho dal-a-lhrone - wore 

jiBTi'h'd with dimt ; 
Or, clotted Into pointa and hanjlng 



frinsGdhlsllpa. 
So like a chattac'd column loy the 

Kot llko tbat Arthur who, with lance 

From spur lo plmnoaslarof touma- 

Ehot thro' lie lists at Camelot, nnd 

ofl^iniTs. 



/ 






1 hide m; forehead a 
e tlie true old timi 



V (banco htoiigbt oi 



Such times hSTo been not since tbe I 
UgLt that led 1 

Tho holy EldeiswSlhthflElftof uiJflTll. ■ 

Hutiii^A the nlutle jtou>D tai-" " '-** 
dissolved 

"Which was an Iniago of the n 

And 1 , iho'lBPt. go forth ffompauic 
Aiid the davD darken round in< 

Among new meo, Etrange Saisi, other H 

And Bloivly answered Arlhur fcom 

"Tlio iSder order chongelh, yleh 



Comfort thjEelf : ivbat comfort la li 
thuvo lived my life, and that nhieh I |t 
May lie within himself make 



If Ihou shouldst n 
Than tl;lswortcldrei 



if. Wherefol^ l 

fountain far me night nud I 

For what arc men hettec Ihuii sheep <M 

life witliln th»| 
inowlug God. they ill 



call the ■ ■ 
cBnthoi 






Bound by gold chains nbout the feet d 
Butiiowfacewoll. I am goingaloiigB 
tVith these thoa seEst— if indeed I 
(For all my mind is clouded with a,| 
■vallryof Avilion; 



Where f.illB 

Nor cTEr wind bli 

lies 
Deep-nondow'd, hi 



boil, c 



can? I 
s loudly; b 
[ly, talc with o^ Ij 



THE GARDENERS DAUGHTER. 



48 



So said he, and the barge with oar 
and sail 

Moved from the brink, like some full- 
breasted swan 

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 

Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes 
the flood 

With swar.hy webs. Long stood Sir 
Bedivere 

Reyolving many memories, till the hull 

Look*d one black dot against the verge 
of dawn. 

And on the mere the wailing died away 

Here ended Hall, and our last light, 

that long 
Had wink' a and threaten'd darkness, 

flared and fell : 
At which tlie Parson, sent to sleep 

with sound, 
And waked with silence, grunted 

" Good ! '* but we 
Sat rapt : it was the tone with which 

he read- 
Perhaps some modern touches here 

and there 
Bedeem'd it from the charge of noth- 
ingness— 
Or else we loved the man, and prized 

his work : 
I know not : but we sitting, as I said, 
The cock crew loud ; as at that time 

of year 
The lusty bird takes every hour for 

dawn: 
Then Francis, muttering, like a man 

ill-used, 
** There now— that's nothing ! " drew a 

Uttleback, 
And drove his heel into thesmoulder'd 

log, 
That sent a blast of sparkles up the 

flue : 
And so to bed ; where yet in sleep I 

seem'd 
To sail with Arthur under looming 

shores, 
Point after point; till on to dawn, 

when dreams 
Begin to feel the truth and stir of day, 
To me, methought, who waited with a 

crowd. 
There came a bark that, blowing for- 
ward, bore 
King Arthur, like a modern gentleman 
Of stateliest poi-t ; and all the people 

cried, 
" Arthur is come again : he cannot 

die.'» 
Then those that stood upon the hills 

behind 
Bepeated— '* Come again, and thrice as 

fair ; " 
And, further inland, voices echoed— 

" Come 
With all good things, and war shall be 

no more." 
At this a hundred bells began to peal , 
That with the sound I woke, and heard 

indeed i 



The clear church-bells ring in tho 
Christmas mom. 



THE GARDENER»S DAUGHTEB; 
OR, THE PICTURES. 

This morning is the morning of the 

day. 
When I and Eustace from the city went 
To see the Gardener's Daughter ; I and 

he, 
Brothers in Art : a friendship so com- 
plete 
Portion'din halves between us, that 

we crew 
The fable of the city where we dwelt. 
My Eustace might have sat for Her- 
cules ; 
So muscular he spread, so broad of 

breast. 
He, by some law that holds in love, 

and draws 
The greater to the lesser, long desired 
A certain miracle of symmetiy, 
A miniature of loveliness, all grace 
Suuim'd up and closed in little ;— Juli- 

So light of foot, so light of spirit,— O, 

she 
To me myself, for some three careless 

moons, 
The summer pilot of an empty heart 
Unto the shores of nothing ! Know you 

not 
Such touches are but embassies of love. 
To tamper with the feelings, ere ho 

found 
Empire for life ? but Eustace painted 

her, 
And said to me, she sitting with us 

then, 
'* When will you. paint like this ? " and 

I replied, 
(My words were half in earnest, half 

in jest,) 
<♦ *Ti8 not your work, but Love's. Love, 

unperceived, 
A more ideal Artist he than all. 
Came, drew your pencil from you, 

made those eyes 
Darker than daikest pansies, and that 

hair 
More black than ashbuds in the front 

of March." 
And Juliet answer'd laughing, "Go 

and see 
The Gardener's daughter : trust me, 

after that, 
You scarce can fail to match his mas- 
terpiece." 
And up we rose, and on the spur we 

went.. 
Not wholly in the busy world, nor 

quite 
Beyond it, blooms the garden that I 

love. 
News from the humming eV\;^ cnimMb 

to it 




m 



U THE GARDENERS 

bells; 
Anil. Billing muffled In daik loavw, 

ThB KiiiUy clanging of Ihe miiistpr 

AlChougli'lifliweBH it and tho gardoii 

A league ol gran, wash'd b; a. bIdw 

ThBI, ttlR'di^lli languid pulees of the 

W«?Manil»lJ 



Are dewT-freeh. 



boui tlie large llm« leather 



4till place abe. hoarded in 



Her tHnie 1 
01 KcK 



griet. 



□ up to Up- Who hnd 
j Gardener"!! daughter? 



Bo powlo eiprBasdeUght, in praise of 

Grew omlory. Sui-h b lord Is Love. 
Aud Benuty suth a miatrtss vt lie 
world. 
And if 1 eald that Fanej, led by I.oto. 
Would phiy with fljing fomi» and im- 

Tet tJda la hIso Irae. thnt. long befere 



B t 

Bom out of eTBtyllilng I heard 
Flutli'r'd about mj senses and my 
And vagi'iB desires, like fltfiil blastn oE 
To one thai Iravela qiikklr, made the 

or Ute dellelous, and all Hinds ol 

tlionnhi. 
That vereiHl tipnn them, xreeler thnn 

the ilream 
Drearo'd hv a happy man. whan the 

Unseen. Is brightening to bis bridal 

this orbit of the meinoiy 



•t. All Iho liind li 
1 broad and equa 



SmoU uf tho to 
DrewXiil'wnn 



Ring 



1 old Slays bad thrlca Oxb Ulo 
luliia eaiB. Tbe ateer fo^iot 



nelgUior 

Aiiil Inning to his fellun's. From the 

Came luli^ea of (lie we11>canlented 

The lark could uarco get out hia uotcs 

Bat shook his long together u lie 

His happy hums, the ground. To loft 
anfl ilg"- 



The . 



hills ; 



u told hla D 



nalltlis 



jonu loud, as IhD' be vent the bird ot 

And^Euslace tum'd, and smiling art* 

■Hear how tho bushes ortiol bv my llfo, 
rhese birds have joyful thongbCl, 
Thinli yon Iber ring 



■ Alrh i. 



I 



THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER. 



45 



And one warm gust, full-fed with peiv 

fume, blew 
B^ond us, as we eiiter*d in the cool. 
The saiden stretches southward. In 

the midst 
A cedar spread his dark-green layers 

of shade. 
The garden-glasses shone, and mo- 
mently 
Tlie twinkling laurel scattered silver 

lights. 
*' Eustace,*' I said, **this wonder 

keeps the house.*' 
He nodded, but a moment afterwards 
He cried, •* Look ! look I " Before he 

ceased I tuni'd. 
And, ei-e a star can wink, beheld her 

Uiere. 
For up the porch there grew an Eastern 

rose. 
That, flowering high, the last night's 

gale had caught, 
' And blowu across the walk. One arm 

aloft— 
Gown'd in pure white, that fitted to the 

shape — 
Holding the bush, to fix it back, she 

stood. 
A single stream of all her soft brown 

hair 
Poar'd on one side : the shadow of the 

flowers 
Stole all the golden gloss, and, waver- 
ing 
liovinffly lower, trembled on her 

w^t — 
Ah, happy shade — and still went 

wavering down, 
But, ere it touch'd a foot, that might 

have danced 
The greensward into greener circles, 

dipt. 
And mix'd with shadows of the com- 
mon ground ! 
But the lull day dwelt on her brows, 

and sunn'd 
Her violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom , 
And doubled his own warmth against 

her lips. 
And on the bounteous wave of such a 

breast 
As never pencil drew. Half light, half 

shade. 
She stood, a sight to make an old man 

young. 
So rapt, we near'd the house ; but 

she, a Rose 
In roses,mingled with her fragrant toil, 
Nor heard us come, nor from her ten- 
dance tum'd 
Into th« world without ; till close at 

hand. 
And almost ere I knew mine own 

intent, 
Tbis mnrmnr broke the stillness of that 

air 
Which brooded round about her : 

"Ah. one rose, 
One rose, bat one, by those fair fingers 

cnll'd, 



Were worth a himdred kisses prees'd 

on lips 
Less exquisite than tliino." 

Sho look'd : but all 
Suffused with blushes — neither self- 

possess'd 
Nor startled, but betwixt this mood 

and that. 
Divided in a graceful quiet— paused, 
And dropt the branch she held, and 

turning, wound 
Her looser hair ia braid, and stirr'd 

her lips 
For some sweet answer, Iho' no answer 

came. 
Not yet refused the rose, but granted 

It, 
And moved away, and left me, statue- 
like, 
In act to render thanks. 

I, that whole day. 
Saw her no more, altho' I linger'd 

there ; 

Till every daisy slept, ana Love's white 

Htar 
Beam'd thro' the thicken'd cedar in 

the dusk. 
So home we went, and all the live- 
long way 
With solemn gibe did Eustace banter 

me. 
** Now," said he, ** will you climb the 

top of Art. 
Tou cannot fail but work in hues to 

dim 
The Titianic Flora. Will you match 
My Juliet? you, not you,— the ISIasler, 

Love, 
A more ideal Artist he than all." 
So home I went, but could not sleep 

for joy, 
Heading her perfect features in the 



gloom, 
«!ni 



/ 



Kissing the rose she gave me o'er and 

o'er. 
And shaping faithful record of the 

glance 
That graced the giving— such a noise of 

life 
Swarm 'd in the golden present, such a 

voice 
Caird to me from the years to come, 

and such 
A length of bright horizon rimm'd the 

dark. 
And all that night I heard the watch- 
man i>eal • 
The sliding season : all that night I 

heard 
The heavy clocks knolling the drowsy 

hours. 
The drowsy hours, dispensers of all 

good. 
O'er the mute city stole with folded 

wings, 
Pistilling odors on me as they went 
To greet their fairer sisters of the 

East. 
Love at first 6\gh\,, ftT6\.-\iOTTi, wA 

heir to all, 




THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER. 



4 



Made Ihls night tbiu. UencerorwaTd 



A word could bring tbo color to mj- 

Atboiielit'-wDDlil Oil my c^DB with bap- 

Lovu trabled llCo witliiii mc, and nltb 

Ttie jrear iDpreaBed. 

Tlie .InuBhl"™ of He year. 
One after one, thio' tliut bLIU garden 

EactiEatiaudeil with her pecalioi 

Daiic«a liilu IlDlil, and dlod into l]ie 

■hndu: 
And each (ii pMaliis loucb'd with some 

Or SDem'a to touuh bar, bo Ihat dny I17 

LUte one Uiat oerer oiii be wLoll; 

Her beaitty grew ; till Autiunii brougLt 

For Euatace, when I heard lila deep 

" I will," 
Bieatiied, Itke Uie roioiiant of a God, 

to hofd 
From Uienpe tluo' all Uio worlds : bat 



Felt earth ua air benealh nio, till I 
Tbe nirbet'oats, and louiid her Btimd- 

lllgtHUtD. 

Tbere mi we down upon a garilcn 

Two mutiully enfohled; Love, tlie 

Betn'«ll'u^ 111 the clrvla of Ills arms 
Eiiwouiid ui botli ; uid over many a 

Of waning lime tlie gray catbedial 

AorOBi 81 bazy irliniincr of Uio we»t, 
Beveal-d Iholr ahlniiiB windowa : (mm 

Ibem <liiiitiM 
llae bells: wu Ilgiea'd; with Ibo time 

we playM j 
WoBpoltBufoUiBrlhliiEai wo eoiiraed 

The aiibjei-t most at beatt, more near 

Llko itoTM obout a dtvecoto, wlieellHg 

round 
The central wlBb, until wa nettled 

thprff. 
Th<!n. in Ibut time and place. I spolie 



heart of hi 

And ill the compaaa of tlirea llttlal 

More niTiBical than ever came in one:, I 

The aUverlrugnienlBorii broken Yirtitf 
MadBiuo maet happy, lallBting," Ian ■ 

Shall 1 cease here? lathUenonal 

H^^ay 1 

That my desire, llSe all «tronse3t|j 

By Its oiii'i euergy-fulflird ! I self, 
Merged In comiJeUou ? Would jon 

How passion loae thro' dicnmitanUil 

Beyond all grad™ doTelop'd? and !n' 

I bnd not BtayedBolong to tell yon all, 
But whiU' 1 mused camo Memory with 

sod eyes. 
noldJng the folded annals of lay roalli; 
And while I mused, JL^ve with kidt 

And with 11 Hying linger swept lay lipB, 
And Brake, -'Be wise: not easily for- 

Aro those, who, setting wide tlie doors 

that bar 
The Bflcret tridnl chambers ot Iha 

Tel inleht J tell of meetings, of (aro- 

)f thnt whifh csne between, moie 

Biveetthancn.h, 
;n whispers, lllsu the whispere ot the 

rhat trcmhlo tound a nlghlitigalo— In 

VhicE perfect Joy, porplei'dforntler- 

ilole from her Bister Eoirow. Might 1 

)( diEerenco, reconcilement, pledgee 

Indvowa, whore tliore was never need 

liid Maees, where the heart on one 

ivild leap 
lung tranced from all pulsation, an 

lie heaTonsbotween their tnlry fleeces 

owMoU Iheirmyslic pilf" wlih fleet. 

Or i7hj]a_ the balmy glooming, L-ro9- 

Sprf .id the light hone along the rlrer- 



f 



DORA. 



isn^rht slid down one long stream of 

sighing wind, 
And in her bosom bore the baby, Sleep. 
But this whole hour your eyes have 

been intent 
On that vell'd picture— veil'd, for what 

it holds 
May not be dwelt on by the common 

day. 
This prelude has prepared thee. Raise 

thy soul ; 
Make thine heart ready with thine 

eyes : the time 
Is come to raise the veil. 

Behold her there, 
As I beheld her ere she knew my 

heart, 
My first, last love; the idol of my 

youth, 
The darling of my manhood, and, alas! 
Now the most blessed memory of mine 

age. 



DORA. 

With farmer Allan at the farm abode 
William and Bora. William was his 

son. 
And she his niece. He often look'd 

at them, 
And often thought, " 1*11 make them 

man and wife.'* 
Now Dora felt her uncle's will in all. 
And yeam'd towards William ; but 

the youth, because 
He had been always with her in the 

house. 
Thought not of Dora. 

Then there came a dav 
When Allan call'd his son, and said, 

" My son : 
I married late, but I would wish to see 
My grandchild on my knees before I 

And I have set my heart upon a match. 
Now therefore look to Dora : she is 

well 
To look to : thrifty too beyond her 

age. 
She is my brother's daughter : he and I 
Had once hard words, ana parted, and 

he died 
In foreign lands ; but for his sake I 

bred 
His daughter Dora : take her for your 

wife; 
For I have wish'd this marriage, night 

and day, 
For many years." But William an- 

swer'd short : 
•* I cannot marry Dora : by my life, 
I will not nuurry Dora." Then the old 



man 



Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, 
and said: 

** You will not, boy ! you dare to an- 
swer thus I 



47 
Look 



And so it shall be now for me. 

to it; 
Consider, William : take a month to 

tliiuk. 
And let me have an answer to my 

wish 
Or, by the Lord that made me, you 

shall pack, 
And never more darken my doors 

again." 
But William answer'd madly ; bit hi^ 

lips. 
And broke away. The more he look'd 

at her 
The less he liked her ; and his ways 

were harsh; 
But Dora bore them meekly. Then 

before 
The month was out he left his father's 

house, 
And hired himself to work within the 

fields ; 
And half in love, half spite, he woo'd 

and wed 
A laborer's daughter, Mary Morrison. 
Then, when the bells were ringing, 

Allan call'd 
His niece and said : " My girl, I love 

you well ; 
But if you speak with him that was 

my son, 
Or change a word with her he calls 

his wife, 
My home is none of yours. My will is 

law." 
And Dora promised, being meek. She 

thouglW;, 
" It camiot be : my imcle's mind will 

change ! " 
And days went on, and there was 

born a boy 
To William ; then distresses came on 

him 
And day by day he pass'd his father's 

gate, 
Heart-broken, and his father help'd 

him not. 
But Dora stored what little she could 

save, 
And sent it them by stealth, nor did 

they know 
Who sent it ; till at last a fever seized 
On William, and in harvest time he 

died. 
Then Dora went to Mary. Mary sat 
And look'd with tears ujwn her boy, 

and thought 
Hard things of Dora. Dora came and 

said: 
" I have obey'd my uncle until now, 
Andlhavesinn'd, for it was all thro' 

me 
This evU came on William at the 

first. 
But, Mary, for the sake of him that's 



gone, 
idf 



And for your sake, the 'Womttn.\)yi«.\.\i<^ 

chose, 

But in my time a iatber*a word waa I And for this OTphaxi, 1 am. comi^ \a 
■to^ ' you : 







Yon know there liaa 

So tull a batrost : 

boy, 
And I vrill 



le full 



III Ht blm In D>7 uncle's eji 
the vheal i tint nlieu 1 



cl 1i 



boy, 



And bless bli 

Aiid DoritKKiKUie child, and went 
Acioss tlie wlient, ami sat apoa a 
9 msBy pop- 



That wB» nnsown, wher 

Far ofll lie farmer esmB Into I 
And spied her not ; tor i.oue c 

a tell lilm Dora vaiMd t 






dark. 



IdhBTO ilsen andgona 
oil'd bor 1 aad Uie renp- 
U, and oil the Iniid was 



'd intc 



IH the morrow cai; 
_. _ . ok 
The child once more, onU 
unil ; 
a little wieBOi 

That erew about, imd tied I 

hat 
To make him pleasing In I 

Then when the farmer pass 
held 
lespled her, and he left his men nt 

lM came and said : '> ^Vhecs were 
yoa yostBrdaJ V 
■Whose child la fliat? What are you 

doing horo ? " 
So Dora cost her eyei noon the icrouTid, 
■jid oiiawer'd softly, "Thliis Wl- 

Anddldlnet," Bald Allan, '-did I 

tabid you, Dora ? " Dorasaldagohi : 
J>o with ine as you will, hut take Iho 
child 
And bless him for the sake of him 



To/kHewTM-word wns Inw.aiid yet 
To Blight it. Well— (or I will lulte tho 



-A 



3d saying, lio took the boy, that cried 

Inii Btrugglcd hard. Tho wreath of 
Bowers fyll 



At Dora's feab Shs bow'd npon hor'l 
hoiids. '■ 

And the boy's cry come to bcs front I 
the Held, ■ 

Mora and more distant. She bow'd -I 
down bei head, ■ 

Remembering tho day when Cut ahe I 

And all ike things Ihnthad been. She 



Ji feU, B 



jd all the land waa 
Then Doia went to Mary's houaa..! 

B~~ )ou tlia threshold. Marysswihe bo*' 
Bs not with Doia. She broke out in 

To God, that Itolp'd her in her widow' 

And Dora said, •' My Dncla took tllO 

But, Mary.letme liTe and work 

lie says that he will never see me 

Then answer'd Mary, " This slutJl 

That thou shouldst toko my trouble on 

Uiyaelf ! 
And, nowl Udnk.ho sliall not haya 

the boy. 
Far he will teach blm hardness, and to 

Blisht 
His mother ; therefore thou and I will 

Anill wll] have my boy, and bring lilm 

And I will beg of Urn to takethee 



ir 'William's child, nntUlH 
Ipna." 

So the women Wsa'a. 
, and set out, nnd irauth'(|j 

a on tlie 1 etch : they poep'4, 
up belwlst bis grandsliol ^ 



And 



1 filapt hln 
the uheeks, 



a hollowfl of bia 



lie that (oved Mm : ond 
sirelch-d out 
And babbled for 11a golden si 

From jQlon's watuh, and sparkled l^fl 

^behold 
His mollier, he cried out to 

hct! 
And Allan aat Mm down, ai 



lit when Uie I 



AUDLEY COURT. 



4t 



"'O Father!— if you let me call 

you so— 
I never came a-begging for myself, 
Or William, or this child ; but now I 

come 
For Dora : take her back ; she loves 

you well. 

Sir, wheu William died, he died at 

peace 
With all men ; for I ask*d him, and he 

said. 
He could not ever rue his marrying 

me — 

1 had been a patient wife : but, Sir, he 

said 
That he was wrong to cross his father 

thus : 
* God bless him ! ' he said, * and may 

he never know 
The troubles 1 have gone thro* I ' Then 

he turn'd 
His face and pass*d — unhappy that I 

am! 
But now. Sir, let me have my boy, for 

you 
Will make him hard, and he will learn 

to slight 
His father's memoiy ; and take Dora 

back, 
And let all this be as it wns before.*' 
So Mary said, and Dora hid her 

face 
By Mary. There was silence in the 

room; 
And all at once the old man burst in 

sobs : — 
" I have been to blame— to blame. I 

have kiird my son. 
I have kill'd him — but I loved him— 

my dear son. 
Hay God forgive me ! — I have been to 

blame. 
KisB me, my children.** 

Then they clung about 
The old man*8 neck, and kiss d him 

many times. 
And all the man was broken with re- 
morse ; 
And all his love came back a hundred 

fold; 
And for three hours he 8obb*d o*er 

William's child. 
Thinking of William. 

So those four abode 
Within one house together; and as 

years 
Went forward, Mary took another 

mate; 
But Dora lived uumaiTied till her 

death. 



AUDLEY COURT. 

** The Bull, the Fleece are cramm*d, 

and not a room 
For love or money Let us picnic 

there 
At Andley Court.'*' 

1 upfikie, vMlo Audley feast I 



Humm*d like a hive all round the naiw 
row quay. 

To Francis, with a basket on his arm, 

To Francis just aliirhted from the boat. 

And breathing of the sea. '* With all 
my heart," 

Said Francis. Tlien we shoulder'd 
thro' the swarm. 

And rounded by the stillness of the 
beach 

To where tlie bay runs up its latest 
horn. 
We left the dying ebb that faintly 
lipp'd 

The flat red granite; so by many a 
sweep 

Of meadow smooth from aftermath we 
reach'd 

The griflin-guarded gates, and pass'd 
thro' all 

The pillar'd dusk of sounding syca- 
mores. 

And cross'd the garden to the garden- 
er's lodge, 

With all its casements bedded, and its 
walls 

And chimneys muffled in the leafy 
vine. 
There, on a slope of orchard, Fran- 
cis laid 

A damask napkin wrought with horse 
and liouiid. 

Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of 
nome, 

And, half-cut-down, a pasty costly 
made. 

Where quail and pigeon, lark and lev- 
eret lay, 

Lilce fossils of the rock, with golden 
yoiks 

Imbedded and injellied; last, with 
these, 

A flask of cider from his father's vats, 

Piinie, which 1 knew ; and so we sat 
and eat 

And talk'd old matters over ; who was 
dead. 

Who married, who was like to be, and 
how 

The races went, and who would rent 
tbe hall : 

Then touch'd upon the game, how 
scarce it was 

This season : glancing thence, dis- 
cuss' d the farm, 

Tlie fourfleld system, and the price of 
grain ; 

And struck upon the corn-laws, where 
we split, J 

And came again together on the king ' 

With heated faces; till he laughM 
aloud ; 

And, while the blackbird on the pip- 
pin hung 

To hear him, clapt his hand in mine 
and sang — 
" Oh ! who would fight and march 
and countermarch. 

Be shot for sixpence in a b«L\X\e-^ft\^, 

And shovell'd up into a XAooOl^ XxquOx, 



r 





WALKISG TO THE MAIL. 
? but lol me 



u oH'sir 
e lie pllj, BO I 
iliH liammer hers In March — 
I wonl>, aud Bdileil names I 
>, Elfen Aubrey, sleep, aiid 
1' folded in Ihy italer'B 
Sind Hleeplng, hajil; dreum her sno la 
"Sleep. Ellen, folded In Emilia's 






la. 



II ell el 






R health a: 

Bleepri'ceittliUiK love and traat agalust 

laoto-nlglit ; I come lo-moiTow mom. 
'■ I go, but I rotuni : 1 would I 

The pilot of the datkness End the 

Sleep. Ellen Aubrey, love, and dream 

Ho tana WBBBuii to cither, Franda 

Hale, 
The farmer's ion, who lived acroBa the 

bay. 
My friend : and I, that Laving where 

He fallowlelsure of my life 
K stone oC hera ftnd every 

Dldwhat I Vouldj bnt era the olBht 



And ennntar'd home boneatli a n 

LUst, jUBt 

In creaoeul. illmlyrrfu'd Bbout Che leaf 
TwUlghtioriHryeilver.tlllweres '■' 
■I-llBir.iill0(UiBhlllB; anJaawtiB 
From rod! 10 rock, upon t^s blooi 

The town wm Lnsh'il beaeatli 

Tlia bny wan ully colm ; Ibo Iiartior. 

Sole amr of phoBpboresceuco Ii 

WIUi i>ii« green eparkla ever 

Dipt by itBelf, and wo were glad at 






TO THE MAIL, 
glad I vralk'd. How 



s yon plantation where this bywaj 

Che luni pike? 
James. Tea. 

John. And when does thlH oomQ 

Jtimea. Themall? At one o'uloek. 
John. What iBltuowI 



Up hlglier with the ye« 






1 Sir Edwart 






I not broken. 



b laundh'e. 



But h 
Joftn. 6, Ma. H 

J'lJlKS. 

Vei'd mltli B ml 

That veil'd the wt 

bid hia face 
From nil uieu, and commenlnB with 

Ho Inat the aenao that handleB daily 



,m-i NaT nho k 

an 1 there' 

, let him go ; hia 



WALKING TO THE MAIL. 



61 



And bristles ; half has f aU*n and made 

a bridge ; 
And there he caught the younker tick- 
ling trout — 
Caus^t \vkfagr<mte — what's the Latin 

word ? 
Delicto: but his house, for so they say. 
Was haunted with a jolly ghost, that 

shook 
The curtains, whined in lobbies, tapt 

at doors, 
And rummaged lUce a rat : no servant 

stay'd : 
The farmer Text packs up his beds and 

chairs, 
And all his household stufE ; and with 

his boy 
Betwixt his knees, his wife upon the 

tilt. 
Sets out, and meets a friend who hails 

him. " What ! 
You're flitting!" "Yes, we're flit- 
ting," says the ghost, 
(For they had pack'd the thing among 

the beds,) 
«* O well," says he, " you flitting with 

us too— 
Jack, turn the horses' heads and home 

again." 
John, He left his wife behind ; for so 

I heard. 
James, He left her, yes. I met my 

lady once : 
A woman like a butt, and harsh as 

crabs. 
John, O yet but I remember, ten 

years back— 
'Us now at least ten years— and then 

she was — 
You could not light upon a sweeter 

thing : 
A body slight and round, and like a 

pear 
In growing, modest eyes, a hand, a 

foot 
Lessening in perfect cadence, and a 

skin 
As clean and white as privet when it 

flowers. 
James, Ay, ay. the blossom fades, 

and they that loved 
At first like dove and dove were cat 

and dog. 
She was the daughter of a cottager. 
Out of her sphere. What betwixt 

shame and pride, 
New things and old, himself and her, 

she sour'd 
To what she is : a nature never kind ! 
Like men, like manners : like breeds 

like, they say. 
Kind nature is the best : those man- 
ners next 
That fit us like a nature second-hand ; 
Which are indeed the manners of the 

great. 
John, But I had heard it was this 

bill that past. 
And fear of change at home, that 
I diOTe him hence. 



James, That was the last drop in the 

cup of gall. 
I once was near him* when his bailiff 

brought 
A Chartist pike. You should have 

seen him wince 
As from a venomous thing: he thought 

himself 
A mark for all, and shudder'd, lest a cry 
Should break his sleep by night, and 

his nice eyes 
Should see the raw mechanic's bloody 

thumbs 
Sweat on his blazon'd chairs ; but, sir, 

you know 
That these two parties still divide the 

world — 
Of those that want, and those that 

have : and still 
The same old sore breaks out from age 

to age 
With much the same result. Now I 

myself, 
A Tory to the quick, was as a boy 
Destructive, when I had not what I 

would. 
I was at school— a college in the 

South : 
There lived a flayfliut near ; we stole 

his fruit. 
His hens, his eggs ; but there was law 

for us ; 
We paid in person. He had a sow, sir. 

She, 
With meditative grunts of much con- 
tent. 
Lay great with pig, wallowing in sun 

and mud. 
By night we dragg'd her to the college 

tower 
From her warm bed, and up the cork- 
screw stair 
With hand and rope we haled the 

groaning sow. 
And on the leads we kept her till Ehe 

pigg'd. 
Large range of prospect had the mother 

sow, 
And but for daily loss of one she 

loved, 
As one by one we took them — but for 

this — 
As never sow was higher in this 

world — 
Might have been happy : but what lot 

is pure? 
We took them all, till she was left 

alone 
Upon her tower, the Niobe of swine, 
And so returned unfarrow'd to her sty. 
John, They found you out ? 
James, Not they. 

John, Well —after all ^ 

What know we of the secret of a man? 
His nerves were wrong. What ails us, 

who are sound. 
That we should mimic this raw fool 

the world, 
Which charts UB all iniU Qo«iX&&\k\M3i&i 

or whites, 



40 



MORTE TfARTnVR. 



And fltng him fur Into the ml 

Wiitcli wluit Uioujseent, anil lightlv 

To him replied 'ihe bold Sir Badi- 

" It Ib not meet, Sir King, to leave 

Aidless, alone, aud amltleii tlira' 

A lillle thing may Imtm a woui 

Yet 1 tiiy heat will hU porform at 

full. 
Wiiteh nhat I nae, and ligLlly bring 

So eayjug. from the rnia^d alirlne 1 

And In the moon athwart tba place or 

"WTiero lay the mighty boueaot antle 

Old knlihle, and aior them the bc 

wluJ aaiie 
Shrill, Qhlll. with flakea of foam. I) 

By zig-ZRj; paths, and juts oC poltiti 



lake. 



a the BhiDlng 1 



Bicollliiir 



forlli the lirand 

im,' drawing it, the winter 

Brlghtenlnc the akiria at s, long cloud. 

And sparkled keen with Irost agalnnt 

For all the' hatt twhikled with dlar 

Myrioila oC topaz-lights, and Jacluth- 

Or eubtlest jewellery. He gazed so 

That both Ma cyea were doizted, as he 

This way' and that dividing the swift 

lu act to throw hnt at the last it 
iieara'd 

leave Eicslibuc ; 



id wnWrfiaiB, 



There in Mio m«ny-k 

Tliat wlilsiled atiS and dry a 

So Btrode he !>ack alow to t!io woundiid 
King. 
Then siiBke King Arthur <o Sir 
BcUvero : 
" Hast thou iierform'd m; mission 

which I gave? 
What is it thuu hnat seen ? or what 
hsat heard?" 
And answer made the bold Sir 

" 1 bearil the rippla washing In the 

And the'wild water lapjiing on the 

lb wboui Implied King ArtliBT, faint 




' Thoa heat betray'd thy n; 



t lief ai 



T, and do tha I 

iico.wateh.and Ughtly bi 
.ent Sir BeOirOFo the second 
le rid^, and paifed beside 
[he dewy pebbles, fix\ 
II ho saw the wonder of the 



f ind 



ill I IM 



Snrely a precioua thing, one worthy 

Should thua be lOBt lorever Irom tl 
™th, 
iih Blight bars pleased the eyes 

Cgotid Bbbuld follow thlH, if tt 



What harm 
disol 



undone 



IE olKiUBuce is the bond of rule. 
9lt well to obey then. If a king 

Lct niiprufltable, Bgnlnst hiinsBlf ? 
King ia Blck.and knows not wbai 



> afcertime, hnt empty 



Sayhig.' King Arthur's Bn'oi'a,EicBU- I 
ronglit by tbelonely msldenof tha | 
ight It. Bitting In I 



llie lief 



«uru 



uuch fas 



Tn all the people, winning IB 

Sd spake lie. clouiled wltb I 
An.lliiilExcnllbnrtlio second 1- . 



MORTE D'ARTIWR. 



41 



Then spoke King Arthur, breathkig 

heayily : 
** What is it thou hast seen ? or -what 

hast heard ? " 
And answer made the bold Sir 

Bedivere : 
** I heard the water lapping on the crag, 
And the long ripple washing in the 

reeds." 
To whom replied King Arthur, much 
in wrath 
" Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, 
Uukiiightly, traitor-hearted ! Woe is 

me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king. 
Laid widow*d of the power in his eye 
That bow*d the will. I see thee what 

thou art. 
For thou, the latest-left of all my 

knights. 
In whom should meet the offices of all, 
Thou wouldst betray me for 11 lo pre- 
cious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Yiduing the giddy pleasure of the 

eyes. 
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice. 
And the third time may prosper, get 

thee hence : 
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibnr, 
I will arise and slay thee with my 

hands." 
Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and 

ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, 

plunged 
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd 

the sword, 
And strongly wheel'd and threw it. 

The great brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of 

the moon, 
And flashing round and round, and 

whirled in an arch, 
8hot like a streamer of the northern 

mom, 
Seen where the moving isles of winter 

shock 
By night, with noises of the northern 

sea. 
So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur: 
Butcro ho dipt the surface, rose an 

arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, won- 
derful. 
And caught him by the hilt, and bran- 

• dish'dhim 
Three times, and drew him under in 

Ithe mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King . 
Then spoke King Arthur, drawing 
thicker breath : 
** Now see I by thine eyes that this is 
done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard 
or seen ? " 
Axid answer made the bold Sir Bedi- 
vere : 
**Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, 
iett thegema 



Should blind my purpose, forlneyer 

saw, 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I 

die, 
Not tho* I live three lives of mortal 

men. 
So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands I flung him, 

wheeling him ; 
But when I look'd again, behold an 

arm. 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, 

wonderful, 
That caught him by the hilt, and 

brandished him ; 
Three times, and drew him under in 

the mere.** 
And answer made King Arthur, 
breathing hard : 
" My end draws nigh ; 'tis time that I 

were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive 

my weight. 
And bear me to the margin; yet I 

fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall 

die." 
So saving, from the pavement he 

hall rose, 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his 

arm. 
And looking wistfully with wide blue 

eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
Remorsefully regarded thro' his tearji. 
And would have spoken, but he found 

not words, 
Then took with care, and kneeling on 

one knee, 
0*er both his shoulders drew the lan- 
guid hands, 
Ana rising bore him thro* the place of 

tombs. 
But, as he walk'd. King Arthur 

panted hard. 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his 

bed 
When all the house is mute. So sigh'd 

the King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 

** Quick, quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from 

ridge to ridge. 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, 

as he walk'd. 
Larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a 

cry 
Before. His own thought drove him 

like a goad. 
Dry clash'd his harness in the ley caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and 

right 
The bare black cliff clang*d round him, 

as he based 
His feet on juts of slippery cia^lhaX 

rang 
Sharp-emltten with the CiVnX. ol anxx!^ 

heels— 



ST. SIJtEON STYLITES. 



WMIe (liB jold-UIf blows, oiul o' 
Th« liyht clnuiiiinoiililenon theHi 



For troops c[ dcvila, mad kLlIi blaa- 

I will not veue to ctbbp tlie liupal 

bald 
OI BatuMom, aud to clHinor, mouiD 

Bulterlng I'he gativ of lioaicn witli 

Hare men;)', lord, and lake away my 

Let Lliia aTaIl,]usl, dreadful, mlgbtr 

TblaiialbeoUlnviiin, Umt tlulce t»u 

Tbiice liinlilplleil by euperbuman 

In liuiieeia and In tMrate, levers and 

lu eouglis, npliea, etltobeg, nleeroua 

A slEn betwixt tbti meadow and tbe 



And I bad jiopud tbat ei 
Tbou nouldat bure caugl 



O tahu tbu meaning, Lord : I do uot 

ware aOll 
Leia burden, b; Icn-bundred-IoM, to 

1111111 were tboie lend-lllts ioia ot Bin, 

My eplrltllacbcfoi 

Tbou JinDweBt I bo 

Foe I will Btrone and bale ot body tbon ; 
And tbo- uiy teetb, wMdi now ore 

diopt away, 
liVonld duLtter with tba cold, and all 

my beanl 
Was tagg'd witli I17 [lingci In Uio 

I drown'5 tba wbooplnge of tbe owl 

with sound 
OIplonsbyiuuBand paalnis, Bnil some- 

An angel suuidaail watch me, tuil»ims. 



Now am I fBeblo j 
1 hope uiy eud diawe > 



And both my tblgbi 

Tc( coasa 1 not to c 
While my BtiS spl 



Igii: haltdBBfl I 

hoar ilie poopio J 

uize tbe Scldi I 
am rolled wllb | 
mor Bii.1 to 



I'illuUniy ilmliB drop ploeemeal troni | 

Have luercyi mercy : lake away 11 

O JeaoB, If thou wilt not aave 11 

'Who may besaved ? nholBlt may bs I 

Who may' bo made a Balr.t, If I fall I 
here 7 ' 

Show mo tbe man bath suffor'd mors 

Tor illii not all tliy martyrs dieons 

draUi ■/ 
For either Ihej were atoned, or trucl- 

Or hiiiu'd In fire, or boil'd in oil, sr 

In twnin beneath the ribs ; but I die 

To-dny, and whole years long, alKenr 

Bear wltiiesa, iC I could bare found 



< ihU I 



The 






borBibutwhllelflTtiil I 

that haled Uie Wkela In 

Twisted aa 'tight aa I could knot tha I 

And Bpako not of It to a ringla aonl. 
Until the uleer, ealiug thio'^my ak^ 
BBtmv'd my Booret penance, ao tbk 

Zkly brethren marvell'd greatly. Uuia I 

I bore, whereof, O God, thou know 

Tliieu vriuton, that my soul ndght I 

I lived Bi> there on yondar moui 

My right leg chalii'd tiiloUiei;i 



ST. aTMEOir STTLITES, 



55 



InswBthed Bometimes in wandering 

mist, Olid twice 
Black*d with tliy branding thunder, 

and sometimes 
Sacking the damps for driul;, and eat- 
ing not, 
Except the spare chance-gift of those 

that came 
To touch my body and be heal'd, and 

live : 
And they say then that I work'd 

miracles, 
TVhereof my fame is loud amongst 

mankind, 
Cured lameness, palsies, cancers. 

Thou, O God, 
Knowest alone whether this was or 

no« 
Have mercy, mercy ; cover all my sin. 
Then, that I might be more alone 

with tliee, 
Three years I lived upon a pillar, high 
Six cubits, and three years on one oj! 

twelve ; 
And twice three years I crouch*d on 

one that rose 
Twenty by measure ; last of all, I grow 
Twice ten long weary years to tin •«, 
That numbers forty cubits from the 

soil. 
I think that I have bomo as much as 

this— 
Or else I dream— and for so loncj a time, 
If I may measure timo by you blow 

light. 
And wiis high dial, which my sorrow 

crowns- 
So much — even so. 

And yet I know not well, 
For that the evil ones come here, and 

say, 
" Fall down, O Simeon : thou liast 

8uffer*d long 
For ages and for ages ! " then they 

prate 
Of penances I cannot have gone thro'. 
Perplexing me with lies : and oft I 

fall, 
Maybe for months, in such blind 

lethargies, 
That Heaven, and Earth, and Timo 

are choked. 

But yet 
Bethink thee. Lord, while thou and'all 

the saints 
Enjoy themselves in heaven, and men 

on earth 
House in the shade of comfortable 

roofs, 
Sit with their wives by fires, eat whole- 
some food, 
And wear warm clothes, and even 

' beasts have stalls, 
I, 'tween the spring and downfall of 

the light, 
Bow down one thousand and two 

hundred tbnes, 
Tb Christ, the Virgin Mother, and the 

Saints ; 
Or iu the ui<iht, after a little sleep. 



I wake : the chill stars sparkle ; I am 

wet 
With drenching dews, or still with 

crackling frost. 
I wear an undress'd {joatskin on my 

back ; 
A grazing iron collar erinds my neck ; 
And in my weak, lean arms I life iho 

cross, 
And strive and wrestle with thee till J 

die: 

mercy, mercy ! wash away my sin. 
O Lx>rd, thou knowest what a man I 

am ; 
A sinful man, conceived and bom in 

sin : 
*Tis their own doing ; this is none of 

mine ; 
Lay it not to me. Am I to blame tot 

this, 
That here come those that worship 

me ? Ha ! ha ! 
They think that I am somewhat. What 

ami? 
The silly people take mo for a saint, 
And bring me offerings of fruit and 

11 o were: 
And I, iu truth (thou wilt bear witness 

here) 
Have all in all endured as much, and 

more 
Thau many just and holy men, whose 

names 
Are register'd and calendar'd for 

saints. 
Good people, you do ill to kneel to 

me. 
WLa!; is it I can have dono to merit 

this ? 

1 am a sinner viler than you all. 

It may be 1 have wrought some mira- 
cles, 
And cured some halt and maim'd ; but 

what of that? 
It may be, no one, even among the 

saints, 
May match his pains with mine ; but 

what of that ? 
Yet do not rise ; for you may look on 

me. 
And in your looking you may kneel to 

God. 
Speak ! is there any of yon halt or 

maim'd ? 
I think you know I have some power 

with Heaven 
From my long penance : let him speak 

his wish. 
Yes, I can heal him. Power goes 

forth from me. 
They say that they are heaVd. Ah, 

hark' ! they shout 
**St. Simeon Stylites." Why, if ho, 
God reaps a harvest in me. O my soul, 
God reaps a harvest in thee. If this be, 
Can I work mimcles and not be saved ? 
This is not told of any. They were 

saints. 
It camiot be but that I a\ia\\\iei l«cjfe^\ 
Yea, crown'd a samt. 'IVie's litioxss 




THE TALKING OAK. 









UoujBjje, SI. SiuiBOU I TMs au 
Ciacka into ehinliig wingi, k 


1 dirj^ 


iijhope 


Spruds inure anrl move and lu 


ore, Uiai 






3pongeiI an.l uiula lilauk of 


frimpful 






MyuwUlBTEUveg. 








bLylilei, omou^iueii: I, Simpi 





'nie vrticliBt on tint to 



t-hooa bmlu Uie suiijeliiiie 
iH lialdbTovBln^Ienthuun be- 



ll noslnnillT hoar with ilme, do noir 
From n^ liJgh ueal ol pv^;aui:o bere 

ThaiPoiiiius nndlKBriothr my aide 
Sbuvr'd like ttXc teraplit. ui> Uie uoala 

I lay, 
A iKStA full o( lln : aU hell bencaUi 
Uada IDS bull oTor. DevUs iilnck'd my 






lunaiMlAimodeii. 



lu bed like mcmstroua apea they 
Tliey JIapp'd iny ligUlout on I read: I 
Their facee grow between nui mid my 

Wth eoltllike whiuny and wilb hog- 

Rlshiihliia 
They burnt luy pmyBr. Yet Ihia way 

wFiB left, 
>; tliiii way I 'neaped tbem. Mor^ 



Bmll«. Ebriiik not, Biura uot. U It 

Whole Loi'its, and pray. I liariily, 

vrllhalow steiM, 
TTItliRlnw. Caliit steps, and miieh ei- 

TTUTe ecTBjnblfhl past UiDse pitaof fire, 

that still 
Sing In mine eon. But yield not ma 

God oolylbm' bli bouiitj halh Ihought 

Among Iho poff era and prineea of this 

V-hlPbfuw can reach to. Yctldoiiot 



^ 



'0 oiy rellca in your laud. 



Wbi 



I yon may carve a ahrine aboui n^fl 
1 hiiin a fraerant lamp Iiefore mji ^l 
■"imK*" ^"'^'"'^ "* ""> glocioiiB fl 
e Uien, a sling of ■ 
i*riV,Jui.s°lJiro' me, ajid S cloud^l 



thick 
TheM heayy, homy oyea. The endlj 

Surely the end I ^Iliat'B here ? aitaapa 

A aosh of 'light. Ib that 

That hold! a crown? Com 

Iknow thy glUturbig face. laaltcdj 

My brow'a aro ready, TVlial 

Irnw. draw iitgli. So I F 



clutch ft. Cl.flFi 
! guiie : '11b here agi^ i Uie crown I 

U>B crrown I 
now 'tlB flttcd on at " 



loCpank 



Ah! let me uot 

That I am wholf 
fnr Heaven. 

God,' 
AniouK you the 

A ppreat'h. a 



ool-d,, 



lleiL 



clean, and m 
\ ladder oi 



And cliaibine np into niT airy home, 
Deliver me the blessed niK-ratuvnt -. 
Tot by the warniiin o( the Holy Ghost, 
I prophMy that 1 shall die M iilidit, 
A quarter before twelve. 

Bntlhou, OLonl. 
Aid all UilB foolish peuple ; lo( tluun 



xoniplo, pattern ; lead them b 
llBht. 

THE TALKIXG OAK. 

we the niouhler'd Abbey-walla, 
Tliui etand within the cliace. 

. -aldell^ifflfojeg 

when my paaeion flnt benn, 

love, that maKei me tlirice a mi 
inhl hope Itself retuiu-d i 



Ihy 



BaueathitBdrittoCsi 



THE TALKING OAK. 



bl 



h 



And with a larger faith appeaVd 
Thaii Papist uuto Saint. 

For oft I talk'd with him apart, 
And told him of my choice, 

Until he plagiarized a heart, 
And answer'd with a voice. 

Tho* what he whispered, under Heaven 
None else could understand ; 

I found him garrulously given, 
A babbler in the land. 

But since I heard him make reply 

Is many a weary hour : 
•Twere well to question nim, and try 

If yet he keeps the power. 

Hail, hidden to the knees in fern, 
Broad Oak of Sumner-chace, 

Whose topmost branches can discern 
The roofs of Sumuer-place ! 

Say thou, whereon I carved her name, 

If ever maid or spouse, 
As fair as my Olivia, came 

To rest beneath thy boughs. — 

•• O Walter, I have shelter'd here 

Whatever maiden grace 
The good old Summers, year by year 

Miule ripe in Sumner-chace : 

**Old Summers, when the monk was 
fat. 

And, issuing shorn and sleek, 
Would twist his girdle tight, aud pat 

The girls upon the cheek, 

•* Ere yet, in scorn of Peter*8-i>ence, 
And nuraber'd bead, and shrift. 

Bluff Harry broke into the spence, 
And turn'd the cowls adrift : 

" And I have seen some score of those 
Fresh faces, that would thrive 

When his nian-niinded offset rose 
To chase the deer at five ; 

^And all that from the town would 
stroll. 

Till that wild wind made work 
In which the gloomy brewer's soul 

Went by me, like a stork : 

**The slight she-slips of loyal blood, 

And otners, passing praise, 
Strait-laced, but all-too-full in bud 

For puritanic stays : 

** And I have shadow'd many a group 

Of beauties, that were bom 
III teacup-times of hood and hoop, 

Or while the patch was worn ; 

''And, leg and arm with love-knots 

out me leap*d and laugh'd 
The modest Cupid of the day, 
And shriird his tinsel shut. 

" I ewear (and else may insects prick 

Eadi leaf into a gall) 
This girl, for whom your heart is sick, 

If mree times worth them all ; 

* For thoee and theirs, by Nature's law, 

Have faded long ago ; 
Bat in these latter springs I saw 

Your own OliTla blow^ 



'*From when shegamboird on the 
spreens, 

Ababy-germ, to when 
The maiden blossoms of her teens 

Could number live from ten. 

" I swear, by leaf, and wind, and rain, 
(And hear me with thine ears,) 

That, tho' 1 circle in the grain 
Five hundred rings of years. 

" Yet, since I first could cast a shade, 

Did never creature pass 
So slightly, musically made* 

So light upon the grass : 

"For as to fairies, that will flit 
To make the greensward fresh, 

I hold them exquisitely knit, 
But far too spare of fiesh.'* 

O, hide thy knotted knees in fern, 

Aud overlook the chace ; 
And from thy topmost branch discern 

The roofs of Sumuer-place. 

But thou, whereon I carved her name, 
That oft hast heard my vows, 

Declare when last Olivia camo 
To sport beneath tiiy boughs. 



«i 



yesterday, you know, the fair 
Was holden at the town ; 

His father left his good arm-chair. 
And rode his hunter down. 

** And with him Albert came on his, 

1 look'd at him with joy : 
As cowslip untooxlip is. 

So seenia^she to the boy. 

<*An hour had past— and, sitting 
straight 

Within the low-wheeVd chaise. 
Her mother trundled to the gate 

Behind the dappled grays. 



*( 



But, as for her, she stay'd at home, 
And on tlie roof she went. 
And down the way you used to come, 
She look'd with discontent. 

" She left the novel half-uncut 

Upon the rosewood shelf ; 
She left the new piano shut : 

She could not please herself. 

** Then ran she, gamesome as the colt. 

And livelier than a lark 
She sent her voice thro' all the holt 

Before her, and the park. 

** A light wind chased her on the wing, 
And ill the chtise grew wild, 

As close as might be would ho cling 
About the darling child : 

" But light as any wind that blows 
• So fleetly did she stir, 
The flower, she touch'd on, dipt aud 
rose, 
And tum*d to look at her. 

'*Aud here she came, aud round me 
play'd. 

And sang to me the whole 
Of those three slaniaft l\\a\. '^oxltsaAa 

About my ' giaiW. boV© \* 




THE TALKING OAK. 



'• And III 

Sliestn 
Alas, I wi 



fit ot fiolla TDtrth 
1 » broad ofefiiii. 



TLatliBro beside muBiaiulB, 
TliAt loutiil me, cIsspiiiB csch in cadii 

SliBmlgbt have look'il her liaiitlB- 
"Yot eeeiD'd Uie pieaaare lUiice us 

Ah noodblne's ftagtlo hold, 

TliB ban'lod bclouy tolU." 
O mulBo TOuiKi thj kiioei Willi lem. 



Long niiijr thy lopnioi 

Tha roofs ul Siuniier-place I 
SnC tflll ms, did aha reul tlia iiama 

"Whoii iDSt with Uirabblng liQiirt I came 

To mt beuvBtli thy bouelu ■' 
•"OrBs.BhowandHr'd round nnd rouii J 

And Couiid, Biid kisii'd Ihn iibdiq aba 
fonnd. 
And Bwaetlj muiniQr'd Ulllio- 
•■ A tenrdrop tniinbled f roni lis aourco 

Ut bsiisb of touch ia soinethhig coaiEo, 

But I beUevB aho wept, 
"nienfloah'dher cheek with roay llghi, 

Sha glnnccd ncmas tha plliln ; 
But not a ereatui-e was hi aight : 

She klBB'd mi) once Bgain- 
" Her klues isaa so close and kind, 



Llko Ihnw blind mMlons of the Sprin e. 

That ahow the year la luru'd. 
" Thrlce-happy lie tliat may careaa 

The riiiKlofe iviiTiiig balm— 
Tba uualilonB urwlitwo tonrbinBy press 

The maldaii'a lender palm. 
" I, molBd here amone the grovea. 

But lauHi'ldlT sdjuat 
Hy T»pid i-fBBtablo Iotm 
^Vith authan and vltli dn>t ; 
" For nh l my (rtoud, the daya were 
brief 

Whereof the poeta talk, 
TVhen that, which hrualhea wlthlii the 
laaf, 

Could slip Its bark and walk. 
" But could I. BB 111 Ibnea foroaono. 

From Bpray, and branch, aiiil BLcm, 
Have auckM niid nather'd into one 

Tlie life thai sprosda in ihem, 
"Slieliadnot 



li. with laatj towera, 

}\ Iha lea. 

™a amona the bowon^ 



t, UredoutwlUinl 



■ Her cyeltdi diDpp'd theli 
I hi'eathed upon her cyea 



"ButlnapetBheatiirtcd nn. 

And pluck'd II out, and drew 
Hy Utile oskUiig from the Flip, 

And flung blm lu the dew. 
" And yet tt wu a nmcelnl clft-- 

Ifelf nponKwllhln 
As nlien I aea the woodman lift 

His nxo to slay my kiu. 
"1 ^ook himdownhecansehewia 

The Itne.t on tbo tree. 
Ho Ilea bcai Jo ihoe on the ffran, 

" O klBB him twice and IlidcafoinM 
That have no lips to ki?B, 

Shall grew so Cidi' as thia." 
Step deeper yet In herb and fort, 



The front of Sun 
Thn 



ivardUU thyhotiEhadl 



-idt of (Une by I.otc ia bleat. 






Whore lalrer fruit of I«in 

Some lioppy f atiire day. 
I kiss it twice, I klaa It Ihrlce, 

Tlio warmth it thoneeahall 
To riper life may maguetiao 

The baby-oak wlthlii. 
But thou, wblle kingdoms on. 

Or lapae [torn hand Co huid. 



on 



LOVE AND DUTY. 



60 



Thy leaf shall never fail, nor yet 
Thine aconi iu the laud. 

May never saw dismember thee. 

Nor wielded axe disjoint, 
That art the fairest-spoken tree 

From here to Lizard-point. 

O rock upon thy towery top 
All throats that gurgle sweet ! 

All starry culmination drop 
Balm-dews to bathe thy feet ! 

All grass of silky feather grow— 
And while he sinks or swells 
B The full south breeze around thee blow 
l^e sound of minster bells. 

The fat earth feed thy branchy root, 
That under deeply strikes ! 

The northern morning o'er thee shoot. 
High up, in silver spikes ! 

Kor ever lightning char thy grain, 

But, rollnig as in sleep. 
Low tnunders bring the mellow rain, 

That midces thee oroad and deep 1 

And hear me swear a solemn oath, 

That only by thy side 
THll I to Olive plight my troth. 

And gain her for my bilde. 

And when my marriage morn may fall, 
She, Dryad-like, shall wear 

Alternate leaf and acorn- ball 
In wreath about her hair. 

And I will work in prose and rhyme, 
And praise thee more in both 

Than bard has honored beech or lime, 
Or that Thessalian growth. 

In which the swarlhy ringdove sat. 

And mystic sentence spoke ; 
And more than Englandhonors that, 
' Thy famous brother-oak, 

"Wherein the younger Charles abode 
Till all the paths were dim. 

And fnr below the Roundhead rode. 
And hummed a surly hymn. 



LOVE AND DUTY. 

Of love that never found his earthly 
close, 

"What sequel? Streaming eyes and 
breaking hearts ? 

Or nil the same as if he liad not been ? 
Not so. Shall Error iu the round of 
time 

Still father Truth? O shall the brag- 
gart shout 

For some blind glimpse of freedom 
work itself 

Thro* madness, hated by the wise, to 
law 

System and empire? Sin itself be 
fonnd 

The cloudy porch oft opening on the 
Son? 

And only he, this wonder, dead, be- 
come 

Here hii^way dost? or year by year 



t- 



Sit brooding in the ruins of a life, 
Nightmare of youth, the specti'e of 

himself? 
If this were thus, if this, indeed, 

were all, 
Better the narrow brain, the stony 

heart, 
The staring eye glazed o'er with sap- 
less days, 
The long mechanic pacings to and fro, 
The set gray life, and apathetic end. • 
But am I not the nobler thro' thy love? 
O three times less unworthy I likewitio 

thou 
Art more thro* Love, and greater than 

thy yeai-8. 
The Sun will run his orbit, and the 

Moon 
Her circle. Wait, and Love himself 

will bring 
The drooping flower of knowledge 

changed to fruit 
Of wisdom. Wait : my faith is large 

in Time, 
And that which shapes it to some per- 
fect end. 
Will some one say. Then why not ill 

for good ? 
Why took ye not your pastime? To 

that man 
My work shall answer, since I knew 

the right 
And did it ; for a man is not as God, 
But then most Godlike being most a 

man. 
— So let me think 'tis well for thee 

and me— 
Ill-fated that I am. what lot is mine 
Whose foresight preaches peace, my 

heart so slow 
To feel it ! For how hard it seem'd to 

me. 
When eyes, love-languid thro* half- 

tears, would dwell 
One earnest, earnest moment upon 

mine. 
Then not to dare to see ! when thy low 

voice. 
Faltering, would break its syllables, to 

keep 
My own full-tuned,— hold passion in a 

leash. 
And not leap forth and fall about thy 

neck, 
And on thy bosom, (deep-desired re- 
lief !) 
Bain out the heavy mist of tears, that 

weigh*d 
Upon my brain, my senses and my 

soul ! 
For love himself took part against 

himself 
To warn us off, and Duty loved of 

Love— 
O this world's curse, — beloved but 

hated — came 
Like Death betwixt thy dear emhtVAA 

and mine, 
And crying, " Wlioisth\&? "^wJiaoWtiKS 
bride,*' 



THE GOLDEN YEAR. 



She punh'd ma [ram tbee. 



liiotipeakuitlieie— 
itUtEiTiclClHiiie: 



IhiLBS- , 
AudalLgotNllMnKB ti 



Uiat bring 113 all 
'11, brought 



iit.tEatliollow'aalldie 
s by Uie ^CHnilug of au 
>ou ila object tiito* Buch 



To Iboge ciu'eBees, wliei 
In tbai laat kiss, whiuii : 

Farewell, like entlless •* 

and >ilBd. 
Then (ullow'tl coansel, 

the words 



:e rase way 



Liubt ; llie BUiomec iilgbt, 



In line Willi rry nf paulOM uml 

Cauglii up the whole t>( lo 

And bade adl'eu [or ewt. 

Ll»e — ye 
Shall Rhsrpeiil imUios bllgbt ut 

Life iieedH far life is poesibie U 
Live hapiiy \ lend thy dowc 

My blcHii'B r Rhoulil my Sluhl< 

Too sadly tor tliBir peace, rer 

For CRlmer houni Ui Memory> 

l/aat to be forgotten — not at 



forgotten. Should tt ci 






Far?mTo»h? 
Bej-ond " 



a burden from thr 

list low matlD-chirp 

morning driY'n her 

o light the mounded 

fair gcecn field and eaiCern 



I 



THE OOLDEN TEAR. 
Weli., you Fholl Mve Ihut aong which 



hutnpwilUluhlm. 
t In his leveroui 



"Bui 1 wm born 


^o 


ate : Iho fair 


That doat about lb 


B tl 


iteshold o( an 


cirSir™". 


Id 


wailUg to ho 
nakelhecauih- 
elDck. Lei H 


But if you earo indeed 

I'beia uielBUrL-d wotJ 


o liBloii. heat 


'■ 1v^1l™p™i,d wake and sleep, bol 
all IbiMGS move ; 
The Sun flies forward to hla btolhei 


The <larSc Earth [oil 


w> 


wheofd lu hn 



ULYSSES. 



Gl 



And hmnan things returning on them- 
selves 
Move onward, leading up the golden 
year. 
" Ah, tho* the times, when some new 
thought can bud. 
Are but as poets' seasons when they 

flower, 
Tet seas, that daily gain upon the 

shore. 
Have ebb and flow conditioning their 

march. 
And slow and sure comes up the gold- 
en year. 
** When wealth no more shall rest in 
mounded heaps. 
But smit with freer light shall slowly 

melt 
In many streams to fatten lower lands. 
And light shall spread, and man be 

liker man 
Thro' all the season of the golden year. 
" Shall eagles not be eagles ? wreus 
be wrens ? 
If all the world were falcons, what of 

that? 
The wouderof the eagle were the less. 
But he not less the eagle. Happy days 
Bojl onward, leading up the golden 
year. 
"Fly, happy happy sails and bear 
the Press J 
Fly happy with the mission of the 

Cross; 
Knit land to land* and blowing haven- 
ward 
With silks, and fruits, and spices, clear 

of toll, 
£nrich the markets of the golden year. 
** But we grow old. Ah ! when 
shall all men's good 
Be each man's rule, and universal 

Peace 
JAe like a shaft of light across the 

land. 
And like a lane of beams athwart the 

Thro' all the circle of the golden 

year?" 
Thus far he flow'd, and ended; 

whereupon 
" Ahy folly ! " in mimic cadence an- 

swer*d James — 
•• Ah, folly ! for it lies so far away, 
Kot in our time, nor in our childien's 

time, 
*Tis like the second world to us that 

live ; 
Twere all as one to fix our hopes on 

Heaven 
As on this vision of the golden year.'* 
With that he struck his staff against 

the rocks 
And broke it,— James,— you know him, 

—old, but full 
Of force and choler, and firm upon his 

feet, 
And like an oaken stock in winter 

woods, 
C^6Kfloiiilsh'd with the hoaijcieaiAtis; / 



Then added, all in heat : 

"What stuff is this! 
Old writers push'd the happy season 

back,— 
The more fools they, — we forward : 

dreamers both : 
You most, that in an age, when every 

hour 
Must sweat her sixty minutes to tho 

death, 
Live on, God love us, as if the seeds- 
man, rapt 
Upon the teeming harvest, should not 

plunge 
His hand into the bag : but well I know 
That unto him who works, and feels 

he works. 
This same grand year is ever at the 

doors." 
He spoke: and, high above, I heard 

them blast 
The steep slate-quarry, and the great 

echo flap 
And bulTet round the hills from bluff 

to bluff. 



ULYSSES. 

It little profits that an idle king. 
By this still hearth, among these bar- 
ren crags, 
Matc'h'd with an aged wife, I mete and 

dole 
Unequal laws unto a pavafje race, 
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and 

know not me 
I cannot rest from travel : I will drink 
Life to the lees : all times 1 have en- 

jov'd 
Greaily, have suffer'd greatly, both 

with those 
That loved me, and alone ; on shore, 

and when 
Thro' scudding diifts the rainy Hyades 
Vext the dim sea: I am become a 

name ; 
For always roaming with a hungry 

heart 
Much have I seen and known ; cities 

of men 
And manners, climates, councils, gov- 
ernments, 
Myself not least, but honor'd of them 

all; 
And drunk delight of battle with my 

peers, 
Far on the ringing plains of windy 

Troy. 
I am a part of all that I have met ; 
Yet all experience is an arch where- 

thro' 
Gleams that nntravell'd world, whose 

margin fades 
For ever and for ever when I move. 
How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 
To rust unburmsh'd, not to shine iu 

use! 
As tho' to breathe vireiQ M,^* IMa 
piled on life 







Bternal EilencGi Aomething 



follow kcMrledee like a linliltig 
fond' the ntmoBt boniid ciC hum] 
:hlB & liiy Boii, m]iio own Tele- 
wboiii I lesTe the Bcepln 

otulfll 



mild 



L. '"M"'"^ 






& blHinelesa In he, 



In omccs of teiidijiiiesa, i 

Meet (idoratloii lo my lio 

When I Bin gone. Ue m 

1 mine. 



o-aoftdeBrfai 
Kful aiiu ihs 

Biitred in the 



and thought witl' 
liBteverwiQiiLfrol 

opposed 



irt: the veiacl puffB 
Hik brood eeiu. ^I; 
toil'd, and wroiieht. 



liBbts Leslii to 
long daj wnnes 



inolte 



The soundluE fairowB ; tor my 
To Bail hejiond the sunset, aui 

It may be iliat iho gultii will wa 
It mav be wo Bhall touch the B 
And eee the gieat AchillcB, whom wa 
Tho' niuth is takeu, much abldea ; and 
Wo are notnow ihat Btremgih which in 
Moved Kaiih an.l hsaven ; iliat which 

Mado weak bj liiuo and fate.'bot 



CIvSLEY ItALL. 



mj a night from yonder iTledcasoniBtit. ere I went to rest, 

a night I saw the Pleiads. liripR thro' the mellow shade, 

^[tur Ilka a BWBTPI oC Ure-fiieB tangled lu a lilVHT bmid. 

Here about -the hpsch I wandor'd. nourlnhlng s youth lubllmo 
With Iho lair)' talea u( tolaHue, and Iho Jong result ot Time ; 
When the centuries behind ma like a fraittnl land repoged : 
When 1 cluug lo all the pteseut for tlie prouuse that it doted: 
Whan I dlot into the fiiturp far aii human eye could aoo : 
Eaw the Vislou of the world, aud all the wander that woald bo.— 









himself anothec cnat; 



LOCKSLEY II ALL, OS 

Jn ihe Spring a livelier iris changes on the bumish*d dove ; 

In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. 

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one as young, 
And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung. 

And I said, ** My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me. 
Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee." 

On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color and a light, 
As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern light. 

And she turn* d— her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs — 
All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes — 

Saying, **I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do mo wrong ; " 
Saying, " Dost thou love me, cousin ? " weeping, ♦* I have loved thee long." 

liove t-ook up the glass of Time, and tum'd it in his glowing hands ; 
Every moment, li^tly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. 

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ; 
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. 

Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring. 
And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring. 

Many an evening by tlie waters did we watch the stately^ ships, 
And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips. 

O my cousin, shallow-hearted I O my Amy, mine no more ! 

the dreary, dreary moorland ! O the barren, barren shore ! 

Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all son^s have sung. 
Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue ! 

Is it well to wish thee happy ? — having known me — to decline 
On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine I 

Tet it shall be : thou shalt lower to his level day by day, 

"What is flne within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay. 

As the husband is, the wife is : thou art mated with a clown, 

And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. 

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, 
Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse. 

What is this ? his eyes are heavy : think not they are glazed with wine. 
Go to him : it Ia thy duty: kiss him : take his hand in thine. 

It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is overwrought : 

Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with thy lighter thought. 

He will answer to the purpose, easy things to understand — 
Better thou wert dead before me, tho' I slew thee with my hand ! 

Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's disgrace, 
Boll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace. 

Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth I 
Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth ! 

Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature's rule ! 
Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiteii'd forehead of the fool ! 

"Well — 'tis well that I should bluster ! — Hadst thou less unworthy provea— 
Would to God— for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved. 

Am I mad. that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit ? 

1 will pluck it from my bosom, tho' my heai t be at the root. 

Never, tho* my mortal summers to such length of years should come 
As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home. 

Where is comfort? in division of the records of the mind ? 
Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind ? 

I remember one that perish'd : sweetly did she speak and move : 
Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love. 

Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the love she bore ? 
No— she i»ever loved me truly : love is love for evermore. 

Comfort ? comfort scorn 'd of devils ! this is truth the poet sings. 
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. 

Dnuc thy memories, lest tAou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proot, 
la tbe deftd v^happjr nigbt, and when the rain is on the root. 



f- 



LOCKSIEY HALL. 



Then a hnncl Bball pan Ttafore Ihee, pWMHnB to hlB dnmliBii slaap. 
To liy widow'd mairi»gB-|iiLlo»B, Oi -fli* wars tlint thou iviltweep. 
Thou slinlt hesr tho " Never, iiayer," whlBper"!! hy the phmnlom jea 
Ami a Bong Irom out tha dlihuiue iu Ui« liiigjiig u[ Uiliie ean ; 
And ail eya shall TGI thee, lookiiis intrieTiI kliidiiesi nn tliy pain. 
Tuni thoe. turn thee oii thy ^lluw : gb( tlwa M tUy real again. 

'TIa'a jiurec life than thine ; a liii to drain thy tioublu diy. 

Babv'llpB irlU laugli ma down : my latest rical biiiiEa Ihee rOBt. 

Baby Huge™, wa»en wueheB, pi'esa from ihe inother'i lnesaL 

O. the Fhild loo clnthei Ibn fnlber wltb a deanieH not his due. 

Half la Uilne and ball lii bia : It will ba worlby o( Uie two. 

0, 1 aae tliBo old and formal, fitted lo thy pettj part. 

'With u ULtlo board of luaiinw iireaeliiiii; oanu u daughter'! heart. 



Overlive It — lower vet — ba happy I «her«tore ahould 1 t'Bre ? 

I inyscll mutt uOi wlLb aetlun, lest I wltber by degpftir. 

What Is tbat vblsb I Bboold turn to, lighting upon daji like Iheae ? 

Kvery dooc la barr'il vTltti gold, and opi^iia but lo goldeii keyi. 

Erery gate la Ibrong'd with aDlton, all Ibe markets overHow. 

1 have but >,n siigiy laney : what Li that wtikh 1 Fbould dor 

I had bean eontenl to piriiib, tolling on the toeniaire arpund. 

When ths ranks are roll'd in vapor, sikI tbe winda are laid with soond 

But tlio ]li>Bllns of the Riiiiiea halpa the hurt IbBt Honor feeU. 

And ihs naliuiu do but uiunuur, aiiarllng at aacli olher'e lieela. 

Can I bat relive in sadnetB. I will Inm that earlier paEe, 

Hide mo from my deep emotion, O thou wuuOrouilrtoUier-AEe 1 

Hake me feel the wild pulsalluii that I felt before th« strife, 

■Wliaii 1 heard my days before mo, and tha tumult of uiy life ; 

Taamlng [or the large eicellenient that (he coiDlna years would yluld, 

£agei'-hearted as a boy wbon HrBt be leaves Ills tauiet's Held, 

And at nlRht along the dUBky highway near Bn<l nesrer di-awn, 

Sees 111 heaven tlie light of Jjindou flaring like a dreary dawn \ 

And his spirit leaps witbin lilm to be gmiebPfore him then, 



:en, mi brothers, n 
hat wblub they bs' 



For I lUpt into the fnlure, far a* bumnn aya rnnid see, 

Saw the Vision of the world, uid all iba wonder that would be ; 



Raw the lienvene Ittl wUli eommerce, arcosies of magic an 
' ;ht, dropping down with costly Ij 



purple twilight. 
Heard the heavens (III with ebon linn. ft"d there rsln'd ncbastly di 
Ktoni tlie nations' airy navies grappling In liie central blue ; 
Far along the world-wide wLinper of Ihe noilth.wliid rushing warm. 
'With the standardi) of the iwoplcs plimi^ng thro' tlio ihuiiir«r4torm 
Till tlie war-drum llirobb'd no longer, and Hie battle-flags wero furl' 
In the Parliament of man, the Feiferalion o£ the world. 

And the kindly a ■ ' 

Left me with ^a palsl< 

Rve. (o which all order festers, all things here are out of] 
Ecleuc« movee, but alowly slowly, creeping uu from point 
SIqwIv comes a hunery people, as a 



lU aad wluka txibiuil u 



dug Higher, 
jwly^l^jig llr 



LOCKSLEY HALL, 

Yet I doubt not tliro* the ages one increasing purpose runs, 

And the thoughts of men aie widen'd with the process of the sune. 

What is tliat to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, 
Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's ? 

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, 
And the individual withers, and the world is more and more. 

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast. 
Full of sad expeiieuce, moving towards the stillnesit of his rebt. 

Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn. 
They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn : 

Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string ? 
I am shamed thro' all my nature to have loved so slight a thing. 

Weakness to be wroth with weakness ! woman's pleasure, woman's pain— 
Mature made them blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain : 

Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match'd with mine, 
Are as moonlight unto sunlight, ami as water unto wine — 

Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah. for some retreat 
Deep in yonder shining Odent, where my life began to beat ; 

Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father evil-starr'd ; — 
I was left a trampled orphan, and a selUsh uncle's ward. 

Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, 
On from island uuto island at the gateways of the day. 

Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies, 
Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise. 

Never comes the trader, never floats an European fla^. 

Slides the bird o'er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer from the crag ; 

Droops the heavy-blossom'd bower, bangs the heavy-fruited tree — 
Sunmier isles of Eden lying in dark>purple spheres of sea. 

There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind. 
In the steamship, in the railway, in the thoughts that shake mankind. 

There the passions cramp'd no longer shall have scope and breathing-space ; 
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race. 

Iron-jointed, supple-sinewM, they shall dive, and they shall run. 
Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun ; 

Whistle back the parrot's call, and leap the rainbows of the brooks, 
Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books — 

Fool, again the dream, the fancy ! but I know my words are wild. 
But I count the gray barbarian "lower than the dhristian child. 

/, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains, 
like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains ! 

Mated with a squalid savage — what to mo were sun or clime ? 
I the heir of all the ages, in tho foremost liles of time- 

I that rather held it better men should i)eri8h one by one, 

Thau that earth shoulJ stand at gaze like Joshua's moon in Ajalon ! 

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let ns range. 
Let tho great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. 

Thro* the shadow of tho globe we sweep into the younger day : 
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay. 

Mother-Age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life begun : 

liift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun - 

0, 1 see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set. 
Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my fancy yet. 

Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall I 

Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall. 

Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over heath and holt, • 

Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt. 

Let it fan on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or buoyt \ 
For the xuighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go. 



65 



I 




THE TWO VOICES, 



07 



Was clashM and hammor'd from ahun> 

dred towen. 
One after one : but eren then she 

gain*d 
Iler bower; whence reissuing, robed 

and crown'd. 
To meet her IokI. she took the tax awny 
And built herself an everlasting name. 



THE TWO VOICrS. 

A ^TTLL small Toice spake unto mo, 
•* Thou art so full of misery, 
• "Were it not better not to be ? " 

Then to the still small voice I said : 
** I^t me not cast in endless shade 
"What is BO wonderfully made." 

To which the voice did urge reply ; 

** To day I saw the dragon-fly 

Come from the wells voiere no did lio. 

•* An inner impulse rent tho veil 
Of his old husk : from head to tail 
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. 

** He dried his wings : like gauzo they 

grew: 
Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew 
A living flash of light he flew.** 

I said, ** "When first the world began, 
Young Nature thro* five cycles ran. 
And in the sixth she moulded man. 

" She gave him mind, the lordliest 
Proportion, and. above the rest, , 
l>ominion in tho head and breast'*' 

Thereto the silent voice replied ; 
•* Self-blinded are you by your pride : 
Look up thro* night : the world is wide. 

"This truth within thy mind rehearse, 

That in a boundless universe 

Is boundless better, boundless worse. 

** Think you this mould of hopes and 

foai-8 
Could find no statelier than his peen 
In yonder hundred million spheres ?** 

It spake, moreover, in my mind : 

•* Tho* thou were scatter'd to tho wind, 

Yet is there plenty of the kind.** 

Then did my response clearer fall : 
** No compound of this earthly ball 
Is like another, all in all.*' 

To which he answer*d scoflinglv : 

** Good soul ! suppose I grunt \t thee, 

\7ho*ll weep for thy deficiency ? 

"Or will one beam be less intense. 

When thy peculiar difference 

l6 cancelVd in tho world of sense ? *' 

I would havo caid, " Thou canst not 

know,'* 
I5ut my full heart, that work*d below, 
l{ain*d thro* my sight its overflow. 

Anin the voice spake unto me : 
*'Thoa art so steep'd in misery. 
Surely 'twere better not to be. 

"lUn* anffolih will not let thee sleep, 
yoratt/ ttwu of reaaou keep : 



Thou canst not think, but thou wilt 
weep.'* 

I said, "The years with change ad- 
vance : 
If I make dark my countenance, 
1 shut my life from happier chance. 

** Some turn this sickness yet might 
take, 

Ev*nyet." But he: "What drug can 

moke 
A wither*d palsy cease to shake ?" 

1 wept, " Tho' 1 should die, I know 
That all about tho thorn will blow 
In tufts of rosy-linted snow ; 

"And men, thro* novel spheres of 

thought 
Still moving after truth long sought. 
Will learn new things when I aiu not.'* 

**Yct,'* said the secret voice, "some 

time, 
Sooner or later, will gray prime 
Make thy giass hoar with early rime. 



<4 



Not less swift souls that yeani for 
light, 

rapt after heaven*8 starry flight. 
Would sweep the tiacta of day and 
night. 

"Not less tho bee would range her 

cells. 
The f urzy prickle fire the dells. 
The foxglove cluster dappled bells.** 

I said that " all the years invent ; 
IZach niontli is various to present 
The world with some development. 

"Were this not well, to bide mine 

hour, 
Tho' watching from a ruin'd tower 
How grows tho day of human power?" 

** The highestrmonnted mind." he said, 
" Still sees the sacred morning spread 
The silent summit overhead. 

" Y\\\\ tldrty seasons render plain 
Those lonely lights that still remain. 
Just breaking over land and main? 

"Or make that morn, from his cold 

crown 
And crystal silence creeping down. 
Flood with full daylight glebe and 

town ? 

" Forerun thy peers, thy time, and let 
Thy feet, millenniums hence, be set 
In midst of knowledge, dream'd not 
yet. 

" Thou hast not gain'd a real height, 
Nor art thou nearer to the light, 
Because the scale is infinite. 

" 'Twero better not to breathe or speak. 
Than cry for streneth, remaining weak, 
And seem to find, out still to seek. 

" Moreover, but to seem to find 
Asks what thou lackest, thouj^t re' 



A he 



sign'd, 

efllthy frame, a quie^ lalw^' 




es 



I udil, ■' ^Tlien T nni jrone nway, 
■ H» <\Hml iiDi UiTf 'meii »tll uy, 
Uollig dlBlionour lu my clay." 
" This ]* DinrB Tile," ha muda reply, 
■'To bresLlie aoil loathe, to tiv« miL 

•igh. 
Than oiica tnm dread et pain to die. 
"SiFk «rt thnn— a dirtUeil will 
Still lieainiiB un the Unr of ill 
I'he eear of uuiii, a cuward Biill. 
■'OameiiloTe tlice?ArlthnuMibminr] 
To men, UiM Im* thy name may muihI 
Will vex thee lying ui><lei£ivaiKl V 
'• Tlie Tnemnry ot tbo wlUier'd lOkF 
In enllleu lmi« ia armee mdru bmt 
Tliau oC the garnec'd Antumn-elieBi'. 
"Go, Texed Spirit, sleep III traat : 
TliD ligbl ear. llint ia tilled wllli Jaal, 
Ua^ra little oCUie false or juei." 



mile atjll i yearii "i Eur'liuiua" pra!isu. 
"Whan, Tvlda in aoul and hold ot 

Anwnc llin tanta I pansert and BDiig, 
The dSuiii battle lloali'd and rung. 
•■ I King tbo ;<iyf nl P»?an rlear. 
The bninU. the buoklet, awl Oia Epear— 



To piit lOBelli.fr,' rail and pri.vf,' 
Ai.,lHiBt6tUobo.inUs<inialaai.iUoTe- 

Free unoce ffir every bunian lUinlit. 
Tliat tbe whole niiml might orb aboat — 
" To Bei»rrh llim' all 1 tolt or bow, 
The eprlnga oMife, lb« daptlu of awo. 



Hot cold of riibteonx ■sir-nppli 



THE TIVO VOICES. 

KM the itlrring of the blood. 
I nalnrs pat not forth her pom 
iiul the Di«nliiB i>l Hie flower, 
lo ia 11 that could IIto an hour ? 



riabteonK isir-niiplaa 



"WliosB eyee aro dim nllU Blorlou» 

Whan, wlird with nobia dust, ho heara 
Kli country's irar-BiniBthrlilhlgeani : 
" Than dvlna o( a miirtai stroke, 
What lime the [oeman-H line In broke. 
And all the war ia roll'd Li Kmoke." 
* Vea ! " anlil the voice, "thy dream 
'lilo iboii abodeat In Ihe tniO. 



■'Then eomea tbe cliecli, llia i 

tlia [all. 

Pain ilBMi Mp. old pleaanreu pall. 
There i» one lome-V fur ttU. 
" ret bailattbon, thro' enduring pal a] 
l4iilCrl uiuulh to luoiiUi wlthnui'^ 

Of kuilWil purport, all were inin. 
"Tiiiinbodab not betweeu ileaUi i 

IMsBnIvcd Ihc riddle of the eartll, 

Su w<:ri: Iby Inbimi' little worth. 

■' Tliat men with kuDwladge men 

I lol.l tiiee'— hardly r-ighpr mad _ 

Tho'Bcalingaluwfr.,n.Kradel.,|jr«dsl 
" Mui-h ieai thia dccatuer, deai ■ 
Xamiiil man, may hops anme trutb H 



■ For every worin 



Spina, tolling nnt hll own cocoon. 
Btyonil tbe polar gleam lorloni, 



Reronil tbe furlheat fUcblaof 1uitm, 
Wrapt ill dense cluud from LxiMa Uicu. 
" .tometlmai a little rcmer iliiuei, 
Aa over rainy mUllncliiiHB 
A glenmlng erafl with bctta of plnca 
" 1 will RO forward. i«Teittbou, 
Id»k up, the fold li oo her brow. 
■' ir atraiabt thy track, or if ohllqiii'. 
Thou know 'St not. ShStiowB tUoailr'* 

Embraciua doad, Ixlon-Uke ; 
" And owning but a lUtl« more 
Calling thyot-lf a lilLlo lower 
" Than angels. Ceue to wall i 

Why incbbyiiieb to 
There Is oiio reiiioJj 

" O dull, one-sided voice." Mid T 
" WllLtbunniaku everythinKalle, 
To flatter mo that I may .ile? 
" I know that age to age Bucoeeita, 
Bl[>win([ a nolae of tonnes anil dr- 
A dust of BysleinB and of ereeils. 



icblev 



utnlni, 






The loy that mixes m 



1 with HMttnri 



TEE TWO VOICES, 



C9 



* Who.rowing hard asainBt the stream, 
Saw cUstaut gateB of Eden gleaui, 
And did not dream it was a dream ; 

** But heard, by secret transport led, 
£v*iiin thecliariiels of the dead, 
The luurmur of the fouiitaiii-head — 

** Which did accomplish their desire, 
Bore aiid forebore, and did not tire, 
Liike Stephen, an uuquenched Hre. 

** He heeded not reviling tones, 
Kor sold his heart to idle moans, 
Tho* curseil and scoru'd, and bruised 
with stones : 

** But looking upward, full of grace, 
Hepi-ay*d, and from a happy place 
Goers glory smote him on the face.'* 

The sullen answer slid betwixt : 

** Not that the grounds of hope were 

liz'd. 
The elements were kindlier mix*d.*' 

I said, " I toil beneath the curse, 
But, Knowing not the universe, 
1 fear to slide from bad lo worse. 

" And that, in seekine to undo 
One riddle, and to find the true, 
I knit a hundred others new : 

" Or that this anguish fleeting hence, 
Unmanacled from bonds of sense. 
Be fix'd and froz'n to permanence t 

•* For I go, weak from suffering here ; 
Naked igo, and void of cheer : 
What is it that I may not fear ? " 

** Consider well," the voice replied: 
** His face, that two houi-s since hath 

died; 
Wilt thou find passion, pain or pride ? 

" Will he obey when one commands ? 
Or answer should one press his hands ? 
He answers not, nor understands. 

" His palms are folded on his breast : 
There is no other thing express'd 
But long disquiet merged in rest. 

*« His lips are very mild and meek : 
Tho' one should smite him on the 

cheek. 
And on the mouth, ho will not speak. 

'* His little daughter, whos 3 sweet face 
He kiss'd, taking his last embrace. 
Becomes dishonor to her race — 

** His sons grow up that bear his name, 
Some grow to honor, some to shame, — 
But he is chill to praise or blame. 

" He will not hear the north-wind rave, 
Kor, moaning, household shelter crave 
From winter rains that beat his grave. 

" High up the vapors fold and swim : 
About him broods the twilight dim : 
The place he knew forgeteth him." 

** If all be dark, vague voice," I said, 
** These things are wrapt in doubt and 

dread, i 

Kor eanst thoa Mhow the dead are dead, J 



" The sap dries up : the plant declines. 
A deeper tale my heart divines. 
Know I not Death? the outward 



si^ns? 



« 



fomid him when my yean were 

few ; 
A shadow on the graves I knew. 
And darkneKS in the village yew. 

" From grave to grave the riiadow 

crept : 
In her mill place the morning wept ; 
louch'd by his feet the daihy slept. 

** The simple senses crown'd his head: 
* Omeg.i ! thou art Lonl,* they said, 
' We find no motion in the dead.' 

" "WTiy, if man rot in dreamless ease. 
Should that |)laiu fact, as taught by 

these. 
Not make him sure that he shall cease? 

•* Who forged that other influence. 

That heut of inward evidence, 

By which he doubts against the sense? 

" He owns the fatal gift of eyes, 
Tliat i-ead his spirit blindly wise. 
Not simple as a thing that dies. 

" Here sits he shaping wings to fly : 
His heart forebo<les a mystery : 
He names tho name Eternity. 

" That type of Perfect in his mind 
In Nature can ho nowhere find. 
He sows himself on every wind. 

" He seems to hear a Heavenly Friend, 
And thro' thick veils to apprehend 
A labor working to an end. 

" The end and the beginning vex 
Hi!4 reason : many things lerplex 
With motions, checks, and counter- 
checks. 

** He knows a baseness In his blood 
At such strange war with something 

good, 
He may not do the thing he would. 

" Heaven opens inward, chasms yawn, 
Vast images in glimmering dawn. 
Half shown, are broken and withdrawn. 

'♦ All ! sure within him and without. 
Could his (lark wisdom find it out. 
There must be answer to his doubt. 

** But thou canst answer not again. 
With tluncowii weapon art thou slain, 
Or thou wilt answer but in vain. 

" The doubt would rest, I daro not 

solve. 
In the same circle we revolve. 
Assurance only breeds resolve.' 

As when a billow, blown against, 
Falls back, the voice with which I 

fenced 
A little ceased, but recommenced. 

" Where wert thou when thy father 

plav'd 
In his free field, and paaUuve latAA^ 
A merry boy in Bun and «!ha<i«'t 




70 THE TWO VOICES. 

•• A merry boy Ihey taWcd Lira Uion, 
lu daft thM uever uimu ogUii. 



WUUBB „ 

VlioM troublea iiuubor wiUi Id 

lite of iiotMnn, iiotMnpirorUi, 



Ko certain elEnniosB, but at best 
A TuguB buiplulDii (.( llio breiiBt : 
" But It I ETflnt. thou mLaht'M dsfelld 
TliQ tlMfXa wliicli tit; worils liiteud— 
ThoC to beglu impllnn to end ; 



Tha ilippliig 
" Ab here «« 
Fnpijel thi 



oloviiji relat 
. orLellio in 



tliey ftU lu ttaiico agalii. 
;o miglil we, !f onr stnla were 8uo 

rttaosa two llk>:« mlijlit ioeut i 
toticH. 
tilt, ir T Upied from nobler place 
ne legend or ntnllenr^e 
?iiB nu^fbt libit oC my diBgrace ; 
ome Taane emotion oF dellebt 
... gazing up Bii Alpine height, 
Soma yeaiDliiE towiuj tha lunps 

iilght. 
"Or If tliro'lowBrllfeBl oame— 
C.ouBolUiatoihiiiliulauti fromo — 
" t mlRTit forget my wi 



I of mem 



ir fori 



"And n 



/■ 



"MnohmDre.1fflr«t 
Ab linked eweiice, m 
Iiujompeteni of men 



For memory dealing but wltli tlm^ 1 

,ud hs wltli inntlsr. BliDUld ebe dttntt I 

I e;ond lii;r own material prime? 

Moreovor- wmeihlug is or seema, 

'hat toui^hes me with mystJ.: gleanu 

ike glliupBea of forgotten dreamA— 

Of Bomethliig lelt, Uke Bometblng I 

irsoiaetlilngdone.Ik 
uch OS iio lauKuago m 
-he BtUI voles lauQh'd. " I talk," Enid | 
I. eafaiolttUco 

misa'il thy 1 



h IhT dret 
U a reallt 
lu," said I, 



.llt>.- 



By makinic all the horli 

" Why luit Bet forth, If I should do 

„..., , -'-•-Mohmlghteni 

roi7 Bfllth, 
that bceathis with ban 



With th 



eath 



donth. 



Una eve 
'■ 'Tin li: 

lite, net denth. for vhlcli wo T^Bnt : 
Moi'o life, and fitUai, that 1 waut " 

1 rented, nnrl rat as one tnrlom- 

And I an»o. and I roloaaed 
Tho cBBomom, and the light Incri 
With ItBBhuesa lu the dnwuliig a 
Lllie eof ten'd nlrs thnt blowlna at 
When mona begin to iincoi.getl, 
The Bweei ehurch belU began to peiU 
On to God'B hooae the people preet ! 
I'aaelnc lbs plooo whard each mm 



■Wltii 11 



red f ooi 



iirlfee 



tiCBnM oil Itlm, faithful, gentle, g 
Wearing tlieroae of ivoniuibuod. 
A nd In their dnuhlo lova aacnte, 
The little midden wulti'd demnre 
Paeliig with donnward cyellda pi 
These three made nnity go iweot, 



f be dull and bitter voica waa £• 
A Beeond vnlee wn" at mine ear, 
A littlB wlilBper fllver-flear, 

Ab from an'me bllBfnl neighborhood, 
' I Baa ttie end, and knew the goo^" 



THE DA Y DREAM. 



71 



A little hint to solace woe, 

A hint, a whisper breathins lo^, 

'* I may not speak of what I know.** 

Like an .Solian harp that wakes 

No certain air, but overtakes 

Far thought vrith muuic that it makes: 

Such seem*d the whisper at my side : 
** Wliat is it thou kuowest, sweet 

voice ? ** I cried. 
** A hidden hope/' the voice replied: 

So heavenly-tonedf tliat in that hour 
From out my sullen heart a i)ower 
Broke, like the j:ainlK)w from the 
shower, 

To feel, altho* no tongue can prove. 
That every cloud, that spreads above 
And veileth love, itself is love* 

And forth into tho fields I went, 
And Natui-e's living motion lent 
The pulse of hope to discontent. 

1 wonder'd at the bounteous hours, 
The slow result of winter showers : 
You scarce could see the grass for 
flowers. 

I wonder*d, while I paced along: 
The woods were fiirdsofull wiQi son«7, 
There seem*d- no room for sense of 
wrong. 

So variously 8eem*d all thinprs wrought, 
I marveirdhow the mind was brought 
To anchor by one gloomy thought ; 

And wherefore rather I made choice 
To commune with that barren voice, 
Thau him that said, *' Bejoico ! re- 
joice ! » 

THE DAY DREAM. 

PROLOGUE. 

O Laby Flora, let me speak: 

A pleasant hour has past away 
'While, dreaming on your damask 
cheek. 

The dewv sister-eyelids lay* 
As by the lattice you reclined, 

I went thro' many wayward moods 
To see you dreaming— and, behind, 

A summer crisp mth shining woods. 
And 1 too dream'd, until at last 

Across my fancy, brooding warm, 
The reflex of a lesend past, 

And loof^Iy settled into form. 
And would you have the thought I 
had. 

And see the vision that I saw. 
Then take the broidery-frame, and add 
< A crimson to the quaint Macaw, 
And I will tell it. 'JHirn your face, 

Nor look with that too-earnest eye — 
The rhymes are dazzled from their 
place. 

And order'd words asunder fly. 

THE SLEEPING PALACE. 
I. 

TRB varying year with blade and sheaf 
Clothes and redothes the happy 
plains; 



Here rests the nap within the leaf. 
Here stays the blood along the veins 

Faint shadows, vapors lightly curl'd, 
Faint murmura from the meadows 
come, 

Like hints and echoes of the world 
To spirits folded in tho womb. 

II. 
Soft lustre bathes the range of urns 

On every slanting terrace-lawn. 
The fountain to his place returns 

Deep in the garden lake withdrawn.^ 
Here droops the banner on the tower, ' 

On the hall-hearths the festal tires, 
The peacock in his laurel bower. 

The pairot in his gilded wires. 

III. 

Roof-haunting martins warm their 
eggs: 

In these, in those the life is stay'd* 
The mantles from the golden pegs 

Droop sleepily ; no sound is made, 
Not even of a gnat that sings. 

More like a picture seemeth all 
Tlian those old portraits of old kings. 

That watch the sleepere from the 
wall. 

IV. 

Here sits the Butler with a flask 

Between his knees, half-drain'd; and 
there 
Tho wrinkled steward at his task. 

The maid-of-honor blooming fair : 
The pa^e has caught her hand in his: 

Her lips are sever'd as to speak : 
His own are pouted to a kiss : 

The blush Is lix'd upon her cheek. 

V. 

Till all the hundred summers pass, 

The beams, that thro' the Oriel 
shine, 
Make prisms in every carven glass, 

And beaker brimm'd wiUi noble 
wine. 
Each baron at the banquet sleeps. 

Grave faces ^ather'd in a ring. 
His state the king reposing keeps. 

He must have been a jovial king. 

VI. 

All round a hedge upshoots, and shows 

At distance like a little wood ; 
Thorns, ivies, woodbine, mistletoes, 

And grapes with bunches red as 
blood ; 
All creeping plants, a wall of green 

Close-matted, burr and brake and 
brier, 
And glimpsing over these, just seen. 

High up, the topmost palace-spire. 

VII. 

When will the hundred summers die. 
And thought and time be born ajgain. 

And never knowledge, drawing nigh, 
Bring tiiith that swa^s the «o\iVcl 
men? 



7 




THE DAY DREAil. 



Here ill lliliigi 111 tlielT plare t 



m fated fairy Priiu-c. 



Teas nrwr year unto IiPt fM(, 
ghs lying oil her eoiifli nloiio, 

Jlcrrm lliB uurplBil cotbi'IuI, 
The mUdeu'a Jot-bUick linlr luu 

n e\!^TiS.l\o hex Irniioea torn 



Tha «llk Btar-brt>ldcr"il covertlil 

Uiila licr HiDtw llaeir ilai ll IlialllJ 
Latiguiilly ever ; ai»i, Hlllld 



tiguidly e* 
let mil I 



arhBorily-aliailoWdarm 
uuetliemnuiciiiill'light; 



Ilglll- 

ni« Bleep: Lcr lirunUiiugs are 

In palme chambers tar apart. 
niB traamiil intttt nr« nol Btlir'il 



iuged pillow ll^lly 



81]eB[eeu>,n< 
X purlMt 1 



At.L prwioni tMngi. illecoTor'd lite. 

And drawa ilia vull from Lldilen 

He trarels far ttom olhar ritlea— 
HIh turn tie i;Ulter» on ihe nwka — 

A fairy Prince, witli Joyful eyef, 
Aud li8ble>fwted tUiui Uia fox. 




Ht truato it, light oil Kinistlilng &f 
For all hie life t£e chinn did uSk 






i hla 



be 



MiMtiu MubU in lila beart 

lultk iJiil qiikktr, Ull lis I 

■IttlHl I'liHRiI.er far apHrt, 

lritlli>ll«nllkeaUrk. 

>tiKi|iB— to kip» bvr— oil hla knew g 

bIdilHU eymi inusi 



1 IthD charm WM mapt. J 
uolHofatiikltigdorEa,! 
lui ancldoorathatclapt,! 



The lire nhiit Dp, the martin Sew, 
Tbo paiTot Bcreaiu'd, the pencock 
■auall'd. 

The mnld and page renewM llieir Btrlfe, 
The palace oniig'd, and buitiA'd aiui 

And all Ihv lollg'pent itreani of life 
And last vltb theie ilie king nooke. 



By?tiily' 



ily rood, b. royal beard t 
How Bay you V we have alopt, my lord!, 

My bescd baa grown Into my lap." 
The baron awora. with many wtin!«, 

'Iwua but au nf te»[lnuer'a uBip. 



Tardy." returned (bo king, I'bat 



t 



THE DAY DREAM 



73 



And far across tlie hills they went 
In that new world which is the old : 

Across the hills, and far away 
Beyond their utmost purple rim, 

And deep into the dying day 
The happy princess followed him. 

II. 

'* I'd sleep another hundred years, 

O love, for such another kiss ; " 
** O wake for ever, love," she hears. 

*' O love, 'twas such as this and this." 
And o'er them many a sliding star. 

And many a merry wind was home, 
And, stream'd thro' many a golden bar, 

The twilight melted into morn. 

III. 

" O eyes long laid in happy sleep ! " 

^ O happy sleep, that lightly tied ! " 
" O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep ! " 

**0 love, thy kibs would wake the 
dead!" 
And o'er them many a flowing range 

Of vapour buoy'd the crescent-bark, 
And. rapt thro' many a rosy change, 

The twilight died into the dark. 

IV. 

** A hundred summers ! can it be ? 

And whither goest thou, tell me 
where ?" 
** O seek my father's court with me, 

For there are greater wonden* there," 
And o'er the hills, and far away 

Beyond their utmost purple rim, 
Beyond the night, across the day, 

Tbro' all the world she follow'd him. 

MORAL. 

I. 

So. Lady Flora, take my lay. 

And if you find no moral there. 
Go, look in any glass and say. 

What moral is in being fair. 
O, to what uses shall we put 

The wildweed- flower that simply 
blows? 
And is there any moral shut 

Within the bosom of the rose ? 

ir. 
But any man that walks the mead, 

In bud or blade, or bloom, may find, 
According as his humors lead, 

A meaning suited to his mind. 
And liberal applications lie 

In Art like Nature, dearest friend ; 
So 'twere to cramp its use, if I 

ShoiUd hook it to some useful eiid. 

L'EN'VOI, 

I. 

Toa shake your head. A random 
string 

Tour finer female sense offends. 
Well— were it not a pleasant tiling 

To fall asleep with all one's friends ; 
Topass with ail our social ties 

1^ Mlenoe from the paths of men ; 
Aad every bandied years to rise 



And learn the world, and sleep again, 
To sleep thro' terms of mighty wars. 

And wake on science grown to more, 
On secrets of the brain, the stars. 

As wild as aught of fairy lore ; 
And all that else the years will show. 

The Poet-forms of stronger hours, 
The vast Kepublics that may grow, 

The Federations and the rowel's *, 
Titanic forces tiiking birth 

In divers seasons, divers climes ; 
For wc are Ancients of the earth. 

And iu the morning of the times* 

n, 
So sleeping, so aroused from sleep 

Thro' sunny decades new and sirange. 
Or gay quinqueiiniads would we reap 
The nower and quintessence of 
change. 

III. 

Ah. yet would I— and would I might ! 

So much your eyes my fancy take- 
Be still the iirst to leap to light 

That I n'ight kiss those eyes awake ! 
For, am I right, or am 1 wrung. 

To choose your own you di<l not care ; 
You'd have my moral from the song. 

And I will take my pleasure there : 
And, am I right or am 1 wrong. 

My fancy, ranging thro' and thro*. 
To search a meaning for the song. 

Perforce will still revert to you ; 
Nor finds a closer truth than this 

All-graceful head, so richly curl'd, 
And evermore a costly kiss 

The prelude to some brighter world. 

TV. 

For since the time when Adam first 

Embraced his £ve in happy hour. 
And every bird of Eden burst 

In carol, every bud to flower, 
What eyes, like thine, have waken'd 
hopes ? 

What lips, like thine, so sweetly 
join'd? 
Where on the double rosebud droops 

The fulness of the pensive mind : 
Which all too dearly self-involved. 

Yet sleeps a dreamless sleep to me ; 
A sleep by kisses undissolved. 

That lets thee neither hear nor see : 
But break it. In the name of wife, 

And in the rights that name may 
give, 
Are clasp'd the moral of thy life. 

And that for which I care to live. 

EPILOGUE. 

So, Lady Flora, take my lay. 

And, if you find a meaning there, 
O whisper to your glass, and say, 

** What wonder, if he thiiiks me 
fair ? " 
Wliat wonder I was all unwise. 

To shape the song for your delight 
Like long-tail'd birds of Paradise, 

That float thro* Ileaven, and cannot 
light? 




ST. AGNES' EVE. 



Or old-vorld tFBlni. nplield at oonrt 
By Ciipid't>oy> of bloomiiia bus — 

Bdl take It— eaniesi wed wWi Bpor 
Aud elUiai sacieil uiiki jou. 



fvfatliorleftnpni 
fiulitl,»lidiiua 

A EilnlQIl too with ECBtCH u. ttoo, 

Iti»iiotbadiStBoo.llBiid, ^ 

Aiid 111 It IB tile nenii ot all 

I'lutgrovri wluilu Uia woodland. 
O had I llfed when mil j wo* great 

III days ol old Amphloii, 
And u'Bn my Hddlo to the g' ' 

And hull 1 lived when Boni: w 
And legs of trees were linil 

And ta'eii xny flildlo to tlie gi 
And fiddlBd in the timbei 1 

TIs snid ha had a tnnefui tor 




■oalnpplunipM Iho 
clouilj' liollow. 
&nd w.iBirc ic jipight to act, 

tiks soma great landslip, irou by liee, 

Iha conntr;--8ldo descendid ; 
^nd BheplieTiIq from the moantoln- 

Loiilt'd down, bolf-pleased, LalC' 
tLlghteiiM, 
\a liasTi'd nhout tha drunken lenvea 

"" iidoni lunahlna lightou'dl 

ire lint nae freih to noii, 



So fonUiful anil bo flex-.le then. 






rat jour plea 
! Utlale 1 Dhi 



ais and tendona. 

my whistle i 

til thrve-paiia-dck 



yilh.trummL 

A Jaokass heehaws from the ric 

The pUBBlTe oiau giipiiig. 
But what le that I hear ? a eoun 

UkoBleepveoniiseipiaadiug; 
O LordI — "lia iu nij iieighlJoBil 

TSmoilem Mi 



. -.A Botnnio Treatiseat 

id Works on GudouIHK Sui 

Methodsof tranaplanllns treei. 



tKS 


ulViii^eirH^Tn''"^ 


Ami Hbu> 






















Bnt those 


tho' fed with carelol flirt. 


llfllr-coiieclousofthegBiiLMq'uiit, 


DSi-gs'sisrsEj- 


The vikB 


herb that runs to se^ 




3 iiatlro fouutaln. 


And I mw 
Aiiil yea 


t work tltro' montlM o[ KdL 






ni^rt 





Mayinyaonllolloiv 
TbueliBdow»o£tlei..(. 

SUlldrefpliigniihihi 



the fi'osfy nil.'f. " "' '""'^ 
list Biiowdron ol tlie yCEr 

i wbita lobct aca MlI'd and 



EDWARD GJ^!AY, 



75 



To Tontlcr shining grotind ; 
Ab this pale taper's earthly spark, 

To yonder argent round ; 
So shuws my soul before the Lamb, 

My spirit Def ore Thee ; 
So in mine earthly house I am, 

To that I hope to be. 
Creak up the heayens, O Lord ! and 
far, 

Thro* all von starlight keen. 
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, 

lu raiment wiiite and clean. 

He lifts me to the golden doors ; 

The llasliei come and go ; 
All heaven bursts her sia.-ry floors, 

And strews her lichts below, 
And deepens on and up ! the gates 

KoU back, and far within 
For me the Heavenly Dridcfjroom 
waits. 

To make mc pure of sin. 
The sabbaths of Ktcrnity, 

One sabbath deep and wide 
A light upon the shining feix — 

Tlxe Bridegroom with his bride I 

SIR GALAHAD. 

Xly good blodo carves the casques of 
men. 

My tough lance thrusteth sure, 
My strength is as the strength of ten. 

Because my heart is pure. 
The shattering trumpet shrillelh high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel. 
The splintered spear-shafts crack una 

fly. 

The horse and rider reel : 
They reel, they roll in clanrfng lists. 

And when the tide of combat stands, 
Perfume and llowei'S fall in showers, 

That lightly rain from ladies' liando. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favors fall ! 
For them I battle till the end, 

To save from shame and thrall : 
But all my heart ij drawn above, 

My knees are bow'd in crypt and 
shrine: 
I never felt the kiss of love, 

Kor maiden's hand in mine. 
More bounteous aspects o!i me beam, 

Mo mightier transports move and 
thrill ; 
Co keep I fair thro* faith and prayer 

A virgin heart in work and will. 

"VThen down the stormy crescent goes, 

A light before me swims. 
Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a noiso of hymns : 
Then by some secret shrine I ride ; 

I hear a voice, but none are there : 
The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

lite tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar cloth, 

The silver ves«*els sparkle clean. 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swin'-s, 

Ard rolemu chants resound be- 
tween* 



Sometimes on lonely mountaln-meres 

I Und a magic bark ; 
I leap on board: no helmsman steers: 

I float till all is dark. 
A gentle sound, and awful light ! 

Three nneels bear the holy Giail s 
With folded feet, in stoles of white. 

On sleeping wings they sail. 
Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! 

Mv spiiit beats her mortal bars. 
As down dark titles the glory slides. 

And star-like mingles with the stars 

TThen on my goodly charger borne 

Thro' dreaming towns 1 go, 
The cock crows ere the Christmas 
morn, 

The streets are dumb with snow. 
The tempest crackles on the leads. 

And, niiging, springs from brand and 
mail ; 
But o'er the dark a glory spreads. 

And gilds tbe driving hail. 
I leave the plain, 1 climb the height ; 

Ko branchy thicket shelter yields ; 
But blessed forms in whistling storms 

Fly o'er waste feus and windy ^elds 

A maiden knight— to me is given 

Such hope, 1 know not fear ; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on you that will not cease. 

Pure spaces clothed in living beamsi 
Pure lilies of eternal peace, 

Whose odors haunt my dreams ; 
And, stricken by an angd'o hand,- 

This mortal armor that I wear. 
This weight and size, this heart and 
eyes, 

Are touch'd, arc tuni'd to Unest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky. 

And tliro' iho mountain-walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear : 
*' O just and faithful knight of God I 

liide on ! the prize is near." 
So pass 1 hostel, hall, and grange ; 

By bridge and ford, by park and pale^ 
All-arm' (.1-1 lide, whate'er betide, 

UnUl I And the holy Grail. 



EDWABD GKAY. 

Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder 
town 
Met me walkinpc on yonder way, 
** And have you lost your heart ? " she 
said, 
" And are you married yet, Edward 
Gray?" 

Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me : 
Bitterly weeping 1 turn'd away : 

** Sweet Lmma MoTe\anv\,\o\e wo tcvox^ 
Ciui touch the heart otEOkwai^Cixa.'j, 




\FJLL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL ilONOLOGUE. 



sr eold ; 



, , .-anhou 

"^By EUei.'B Brave, un 

TlinughCIier |inind,aiiii ucuuvei um 

I Fiir J I'wB' "'"' '""y »"•' 'f "'/ 

L <■ Cinet, cruel tlie words I Slid I 
UrUBllJ tanie Uiav Uauk lo-dHy ; 
•Toa'KtoosllglitBiiJ nchle/fiiiilil, 
■To trouble Una luiarl o£ Edward 

" TLera I put my ttxe In Ihe nrass— 

WhlBpeed. ' Linen 10 luy despair : 
I TEp«nt me ol all I did : 

tipeak a little, KUeii Adnir!' 
"Tbeiiltook a pencil, mid wralB 

On tbe moBiy Btoiic, hb 1 lay, 
■Hun lies tbe body ul Klleu Aitalr; 

Aiiil here UielieanuriiMwanKi ray 1 ' 
"Love may come, and lore may go, 
tudfly.llke s bird, from tree totnw! 



Siitl 1 



11 lov 



Till EUeuAdikli 
" Bitterly wept T o»er thi 

•■■'■.erfywemdngltur; 



backtu 



p bead iialter at Thu Cock, 



f But such vfhoBo faiher-grape p4w tat 



S01 



n libation tc 






mitko me t 



11 be kind 
ivcly woida, ana 

IB ball-fo'rgotlen : 
*"'i'Llail"bo'tipeiiudrotIoii.'" ' 
J pledffo lier, aTi< 



d inya It tbrlcu 



mSi"-'' 
bJiiiil the charm LaTepowtjr I1 
New llfeblood warm llic buai 



'd lip» ol m 



lipn, 



/ 



SlfaTiSii 



Old wlahei, shoalB tyt brokeu plain. 

And pbnnloEtk bopioi aajiemblo ; 
Aiidiha.1 rliild'alieort witliiii tbeman^ 



lUccurreut al my days : "* 

I kiaa Ibe llue I once have ktfs'di 

The gBa-llKhtwavendimmer. 
And softly, thro' a vinous mist. 

My collie frieudslilps glliDawr. 
I STOW In iFortli. and -nic, oud aeuaa. 

iTnbodiug oriUc-pen, 
Or Uiat eternal watit of penes, 

'Wlio bold UielrWiida to aA, anil riy 

For that which all deny them— 
Wlio aneep the crDsdiie, wet or dry. 

And all Uio world eo by them. 
Ah yet. llio' all the world roraake, 

T&uT>.nuiiecllpmywii,gs, ^ 
1 uill not cramp my heart, nor taka 

Hflir-vlBwa of men and tllinm. 
Let Whig and Tory silr their Llood: 

Tliere must be stormy weather J 
But tor some trne result at good 

All p.-iities work togethct. 



This ivhola wide eaitli ol ligm and 



The pint, y»u braiight tne, waa thAbM 

That HVI.T Hune from pipe. 
But tho* tha uort aurpssses praise. 

My nervL-i hare riealt with stlflqi. 
IB there some magic In the pbue ¥ 

Or do luy peptica dUIerV 
For FlncB I rame to live and leam. 

No pint o( whit* or red 
llBil ever hall the power to torn 

This wheel within my head, 
Which beiLrs a ■ra'On'd braiu sboatt 

Un»ubject lo conrniion, 
Tho' Bonx'd and aatnrate. out and mt, 



As who shall say lue uay : 






WILL WATERPROOrS LYRICAL MONOLOGUE. tt 



month, a birth-day coming on. 
We driuk defying trouble. 
Or ■ometinies two would meet in one, 
And then we drank it double ; 

Whether the vintAgc, yet unlcept, 

Had relish tiery-iicw, 
Or, elbow-deep in sawdust, slept, 

As old as Waterloo ; 
Or stow'd (when classic Canning died) 

In musty bins and chambers, 
Had cast upon its crusty side 

The gloom of ten Decembera. 

Tlio Muse, the Jolly Muse, it is I 

SheaiMwer'd to my call, 
She changes wiih that mood or this, 

is all-in-all to all : 
She lit the spark within my throat. 

To make my blood run quicker. 
Used all her Uei^ will, and smote 

Her life into the liquor. 

And hence this halo lives about 

The waiter's hands, that reach 
To each his perfect pint of stout, 

His proper chop to each. 
He looks not like the common breed 

That with the napkin dally ; 
I think he came like Ganymede, 

From some delightful valley. 

The Cock was of a larger egg 

Than nio<leni i>oultry drop, 
Stept forward on a tirnier leg, 

And cramm'd a plumper crop: 
Upon an ampler dunghill trod, 

Crow*d lustier late and eai-ly, 
Sipt wine from silver, prainingGod, 

And mked in golden bailey. 

A private life was all his joy, 

Till in a court he saw 
A wnnething-pottle-lKxlied boy 

Tliat knuckled at the tuw : 
He stoon'd and clutch'd hiui, fair and 
good, 

Flew over roof and casement : 
Hitf brothers of the weather stood 

Stock-tftill for sheer amazement. 

But he, by farmstead, thorpe and 
spire. 

And followM witli acclnims, 
A sisni to many astarinc Kbire 

Caine crowing over 'J'hames, 
Bight down by smoky Paul's they Iwre, 

Till, where the street gi'ows straiter. 
One flxM for ever at the door, 

And one became head-waiter. 



But whither would my fancy go ? 

How out of place she makes 
The violet of a legend blow 

Among the chons and steaks I 
*T\a but a stewara of the can. 

One shade more plump than com- 
mon; 
As just and mere a sewing-man 

As any, born of woman. 

2 ranged too high : what draws me down 

Into the common day ? 
Isit thetralglit of that half-crown, 



Which I shall have to pay ? 
For something duller than at first, 

ICor wholly comfortable, 
I sit (my empty glass reversed), 

And thrumming on the table : 

Half fearful that, with self at strife 

1 take myself to task ; 
Lest of the f ulu'jss of my life 

I leave an empty flnsK : 
For I had hope, by something rare. 

To ])rove mvself a poet : 
But while I plan and plan, my hair 

Is gray before I know iL 

So faro it since the vears began. 

Till they be galherVi un ; 
The truth, that Hies the flowing can, 

Will haunt the vacant cup : 
And others* follies teach us not, 

Kor nmch tlieir wisdom teaches ; 
And most, of sterling worth, is what 

Our own experience preaches. 

Ahu let tlie rusty theme alone I 

we know not what we know. 
But for my pleasant hour, 'tis gone, 

'Tisgone, and let it go. 
'Tis gone : a thousand such have slipt 

Away from my embraces, 
And fall'n into the dusty ciypt 

Of darken'd fonus and faces. 

Go, therefore, thou! thy betters went 

Long since, and came no more ; 
With i)eals of genial clamor sent 

From many a tavern-iloor ; 
With twisted quirks and happy hits. 

From misty men of letters ; 
Tlie tavern-hours of miiihty wits — 

Thine elders and thy betters. 

Hours, when the Poet's words and 
looks 

Had yet their native glow : 
Nor yet the fear of little books 

Had made him talk for show ; 
But, all his vast heart sherris-warm'd. 

He flash'd his random speeches ; 
Ere days, that deal in ana, swurm'd 

His literary leeches. 

So mix for ever with the past. 

Like all good things on earth ! 
For should 1 prize thee, couldst tliou 
last. 

At half thy real worth ? 
I hold it good, good things should pass: 

With time 1 will not quarrel : 
It is but yonder empty ^lass 

That makes ine maiidlin-moral. 

Head-waiter of the chop-house here, 

To which I most resort, 
I too must i>art : I hold thee dear 

For this good pint of port. 
For this, thou shalt from all things 
suck 

Marrow of mirth and laughter ; 
And, whereso'er thou move, good luck 

Shall ding her old shoo after* 

But thou wilt never move from hencO) 



\ 



ro UiT fate allot 



|i 



In hB.uiiu ot huDgry sli 
lid boies. lanlnl Willi Uiu eieam 

Of Uiirty Ihouaaud diuuBC*, 
We fret, ice fuma, would olilft our 

Wuuldqnanel with onr lot ! 

riip cure iB, uiiilvi' polisU'd ttu), 

To tnve lie lun-BiwHiot ; 
„o«iine and BO. Mid comeogalii, 

Keciiniliia liltB tha pewit, 
And wBtch^ liy BtJeut gentiemen, 

TbaC liiUo wlCli Uie cruot, 
LItb lona, erctrom thrtopmostlieiid . 



CLAnE. 

NoblaKin'ditntesmiinlip, nor ilng, 
Ue gave tlie people of his bt'Sl ; 
His wonil lie kept. Ms beat lie giiT 



Tho little life 

'J'liel>lnl that pipia Ilia lone di^s 
And dies Dnlieard wltLin hlB tl'ea. 
Than he Uiat wirblea longsruJ loud 



Tin inollow HeaUi.liXe xnin 
Shall call Ihee from the 1h 

Snt when he callB, and Ihon I 
To pace Ihegillteil Uoor, 

And, laying dowr - 

OCllCe. BhnUea 

Ko carve' 

■■ -.owtneapi 

■Ed CrOBB-J 

pint-pot neatly 
TO - 






Shall Bh 



Top nileht hare von Uie Foet'a name 
If Blleh be wotlh the winning now, 
Anilral"''! a laurel foryourhrow 

Of Bonnder leaf thaji 1 can claim ; 

But Ton hnve made tlia wiser cliolra. 
Thio'ti-pnpuofnHracordiuB (rieudf 



Of Ihoae that wear the Foefs crow 
Hereafter, nellher kuaTo nor clow 
Shall hold Iheir orgiaB at your tomb, 
For D-1W the Poet cannot ille 
Nor leaie hie muBic aa of old, 
But roam! him ere he Bear™ bo cc 
Seglna the if aiidal and Iho riy : 

Break loFkandxealTbetinythelrui 

Keep nothing eacr«l : 'tiK but Junl 

Tha many-lieaJddbeaal should knon 

Ab sIiflmeLcBB 1 for he did tnit bI'ie 

A sonn Ihal pleoEud ub from 

2^0 public life was his oa «aith. 






TO E. I_, ON HIS TKATELS Et 

GHEECE. 

iLLYniAS woodlnnda, echdngfalTa 

Of water, elieeia ut annimer als— 
'i'he hniK divine Pexeian |>nes, 

The vu^t Akinterauuiau walla. 

Tomohrlt. AlhoB. all thlnf* fair, 
Tuu (hadow %tSi to dlBtsn^ml 



The' 

By fountalu-nrui :— and Koladi ooi'it. ] 
A Elimmerlng Bhouldernnder erlooDi 

^- -- ^.,-._ . --.^^Bwell 

id fell i 



ftElimmeringFh . . 

Of lavern pill«i-» ; on the ewell 
"" ilvorllly heaved and fell ; 

Liiy aalopewai ricbln bloom. 

~ By dancing rlvulel 



To !iiu 



1 to the t 



11 upon (he rotJa, 



And cl^uuB are uiguesi up in air. 
Lord Boiiald bmugUt a lily-wbttB doe 

To give hie conalii, Lady Clare. 
I trow thay did not part In acom ! 

Ixivera long-betrom'd were they : 
Tliey too willwed tha morrow mutn 

Uod'a bleBBlns on the day ! 
"He does not love me tor my birth. 

Nor for my landa ao broad and fair, 
Heloveamefor my own true worth. 

And that la well," said Lady Clara. 
In there came old Alice Uia nur 



THE LOUD Of BUBLEtGB. 



7» 



"OOodlMlhuilc'dl" Hdd Alice llie 

'■ Tbat all cornea round so lost and 
fair; 
Lonl Ronald Is faclr o( all four lands, 
Aod jou BTC uoC tlia Lau^ Clu«." 

GaidLadjr Clare, " UiaC ;e speali « 
'• kt Qod'i abOTc," said Alles the 

"1 speak the tmtli : you are my 
" The old Eail'i dangUter died aC my 



Aud put my chll 
" Falaely, falialy hnvo ye dono. 
O mother," (be eaid, '• U this be 



And all you haye wlU be Lonl Itun- 
Bld'a, 

When you an man and ^ite." 
■• If I'm abegiar bom," aha said, 

■■ I will Bueak out, for I dare not He. 
Pull off. pull olT,'the brooch of gold. 

And fliiig the diamond necklace by," 
•> Kay nov, my Child," uld Alice the 

" But krep the Bacret all ye can." 
She eald, •' Kot so : but 1 will know 
It tbece be any laltta In idsu " 
lf*7 nov, what faith 1" eaid Alice 
cleave nuto hla 
It," the lady re- 
to-nlght." 



" The man will 
right." 
* And be ahall bavi 
piled, 
" Tbo' I ihould dl< 

"Yet give one kiu 

dearl 
Alas, my child, I elnn'd for thee<" 
■• ^) motiier, mother, mutbei," aba 
•aid, 
" 8a atnnge it aeema to me. 
" Tet here's a kiet for my mother dear. 
And lay Jour hanA upon my head. 

She clad henelf In a must gown, 
Slie waa no longer tjidy Clure : 
Sha went by daEi, and the went by 

Vlth adngla roae in her balr. 
the Uly-wblle doe Lord Bonald bad 
broaHU 



'If Ii 



Leapt up from where she lay, 
Dropt her bead In the inaiden^s han^ 

And follow'd her all tlie way. 
Down atept Ix>td Uouald from hi* 

" O Lajy Clare, yon shame your 
■Vl^y come you diest like a Tillage 
That aia the fiowec of the earth ?" 
It like a village niali^ 

' And not the Lady Clare." 

■lay taa no tricks," eaid Lord Boo- 

' For I am youta la word and In 
deed. 

ly me no tricks," said Lord Don- 
ald. 
" Voar riddle Is hard to read." 

nd proudly Blood eho np I 

Icr Iianrt wltblii her ill J not fall i 
:d Itonald^B eyes. 



Ind told blm all her 



L lau^ ol incrry aconi ; 
1 and klsa'd bar whei« 



' If you are not th 
■ d I," said he. 



Wet^v 

And you shall sllll be Lady Clara." 

THE LO&D OF BOBLEIQH. , 
tJ her ear he whiepers gayly, 

" If my heart by Bignscaii tell. 
Maiden. I have watcC'd Uice dally, 

And I tliink tliou lov'st me «ell." 

" There Is none 1 love like diee." 
He la but a landscape painter, 

Andavlll^emaSlenBbe. 
He to llpa. that fondly falter. 

Presses bis wiUiont reproof : 
Leads her la the village alLir, 

" I can make no marriage present : 

Little can I give my wlfu. 
Love will make our cottage pteaaant, 

And I lova Ihee more Uian life." 
They bv paiks and lodges going 

See the Ictdly castles aland ! 
Summer woods, about them blowing, 

Made aniuriDur in tbe land. 
From deep tlioaght lilmself he rousck 

Savs 10 her that loves him well, 
" Let us see these handsome houses 

Where the wealthy nobles dwell." 
So slie gocB by him attended. 

Heats lilm lovingly converse. 
Sees whaiever (air and splendid 

Lay betwixt bis home and hers ; 
Farks wltli oak and chestnut shady, 

Paike and order'd gardens great, 
Ancient homes ol lord aii4\!ui^, 

Built for plaaaura aiid tot alaJA, 



V 



AIL tie bIidwb tier mabes Mm 
On lUot toltage gpiwlrg iicai 



Keshan 



Than 



beiieatli lil» rouf Umy oon 
chenrlKJoieirsgrBallj. 
n gBtBway the auceiiu 
aiinoilal biuii-iiigB stslelT, 

III more majeBlJc 



Many a eallant (>■; 

Bows fief Ota lilm 
AiiJ tbflv sneak in centte nxiinnnr, 

Wlion Ibey answer lo b'- call, 
White be treads nitli fuDtbieii drmor, 

l-aadliiK oil trim Lnll to liall. 
And. while now elio Koii.leia blindly, 

Not Ills LOeaiii»B ™" divine, 
Proudly lurn* lie round and kindly, 

" AirotlhialamlneHndtlllne." 
Eere he ll»e« li. Biatoand buniitj, 

LonI Ot UllrlelEh, fair andfrea, 
Kol a lord 111 all the county 

iB BO great a lord as he. 



Pale affain aiidi.>alhdid ni 



ndperplejidLflrf 111 gilt 

TFltl) the burden or ui bon< 

Unto wLlcli ehe wna not 1 

Faint BhB grew anderettn 



YTeBpiiiE. wecplni; liUn mill curly, 
Walkl7iguniin.lpiichiui|..>vii. 

Deeply mourn'd tliu Lc.rdof Burlol 
Burlelgli-houae by Sinn Joni-tuvi 

And be cauie to look upon lier. 
And lie Ioo1t*d at lier and said 

" Bring the dreaa and put It on her 



Tbat her sjiirit might hi 

Sm LAUNCELOT AND QDEES 
GUIUEVEKE. 

.ncE Bonis that baianra joy and win, 
IVitb teat! and uiille» fram heav - 

rhe maiden Slirlng upon the plain 
JauiHiii a nun-lit &11 of ralii. 

'Brywhere, 



if heaven lau^'il betvi 



Blue it 

Aiidfar.iiifoi'aBt-di . , 

The luimiuac elmtree galher'd grean 

Fl-oui draughta ul balmy alt. 
SomelinieB tbo Ilniiet piped hia twng ; 



fl groves from fea: 



iBllei 



By grassy i^psBwl __ 

And drooping chestiiut^uds baKiiu 
To apread iiuo the perfect tun. 

Above the teeming ground. 
Than, In Qte boyhood of tlie year. 
Sir Launceiot and Queen Gnfiieveii 
Kode tbro' the cOTerls of tlie deer. 
With bliistut treble ringing clear. 

She eeeni'd a part of Joyi 
Spring ; 
A gown of Braas^een silk aba mm 

A light-green tuft of |il uniei slie IwM 

Closed ill a gDlOen ring. 
Now on Bonie twisted Ivy-uet, 
Now by Bonio tinkling rivulet. 
In mo»aea milt with vlolBt 
Uorrreani'WhltonitilehlBiias 
Anil lleetei now she Bkim 

Tiian slie nboae elfln pranoc- 
By niahtto eery wjitblliira, 
Wbeu all tlU) gliiuuierCi^ 

■WiUi^inijline bridle-reint 
As Bhu Heil fiist thro' aun and abade. 
The happy winfla upon bar plajrU 
Blonliig tlie rlnglec Irani tlui bnda: 
She looE'd so lovely, aBKhOBIrW'd 

The rein with dainty flnMr-Oin^ 
A man bad given all oilier buiti, 
And nil bis worlilly wortli fOrOilB, 



L FAREWELL. 



Tliy tribute wnyo deiive 



THE VISION OF SIN. 



81 



No where by thee my steps shall be» 
For ever aud for ever. 

But here will sigh thine alder tree. 
And here thine aspen shiver ; 

And here by thee will hum the bee, 
for ever and for ever. 

A thousand suns will stream on thee, 
A thousand moons will quiver: 

But not by thee my steps shall be. 
For ever and for ever. 



THE BEGGAR MAID. 

ITER arms across her breast she laid ; 

She was more fair than words can 
say: 
Bare-tooted came the beggar maid 

Before the king Cophetua. 
lu robe and crowu the king slept 
down. 

To meet and greet her on her way ; 
"It is no wonder," said the lords, 

" She is more beautiful than day." 

As shines the moon in clouded skies, 

She in her poor attire was seen: 
One praised her ankles, one her eyes, 

One her dark hair and lovesome 
mien. 
So sweet a face, such angel grace. 

In all that land had never ueevu 
Cophetua sware a royal oath: 

"This beggar maid shall be my 
queen I " 

THE VISION OP SIX. 
I. 

I HAD a vision when the night was 

late; 
A youth came riding toward a palace- 
gate, 
lie rode ahorse with wings, that would 

have flown, 
But that his heavy rider kept him 

down. 
Aud from the palace came a child of 

sin, 
Aud took him by the curls and let him 

in, 
^Vhere sat a company with heated 

eyes, 
Expecting when a fountain should 

arise: 
A sleepy light upon their brows and 

lips — 
As when the sun, a crescent of eclipse, 
l>reams over lake and lawn, and ittles 

and capes — 
Suffused them, sitting, lyin^, languid 

shapes. 
By heaps of gourds, and skins of wine, 

aud pilei of grapes. 

I "• 

I Then methought I heard a mellow 

I sound, 

I Gathering up from all the lower 

I ground ; 

I Narrowing in to where they sat as- 






sembled 



Low voluptuous music winding trero* 

bled, 
Wov'n in circles : they that heard it 

sigh'd. 
Panted hand in hand with faces pale. 
Swung themselves/ and in low tones 

replied ; 
Till the fountain spouted, showering 

wide 
Sleet of diamond-drift and pearly hail; 
Then the music touch'd the gates and 

died ; 
Bose again from where it seem*d to 

fail, 
Storm'd in orbs of song, a growing 

gale; 
Till thronging in and in, to where they 

waited. 
As 'twere a hundred'-throated nightin- 
gale. 
The strong tempestuous treble 

throbb'd and palpitated ; 
Ban into its giddiest whirl of sound, 
Caught the sparkles, and in circles. 
Purple gauzes, golden hazes, liquid 

mazes. 
Flung the torrent rainbow round: 
Then they started from their places, 
Moved with violence, changed in hue, 
Caught each other with wild grim- 
aces. 
Half-invisible to the view. 
Wheeling with precipitate paces 
To the melody, till they flew. 
Hair, and eyes, and limbs, and faces. 
Twisted hard in flerce embraces, 
Like to Furies, like to Graces, 
I)ash*d together in blinding dew: 
Till, klll'd with some luxurious agony, 
The nerve-dissolving melody 
Flutter'd headlong from the sky. 

in. 

And then I look'd up toward a moun- 
tain-tract, 
That girt the region with high cliff and 

lawn : 
I saw that every morning, far with- 
drawn 
Beyond the darkness and the cataract. 
God made himself an awful rose of 

dawn. 
Unheeded : and detaching, fold by 

fold, 
From those still heights, and, slowly 

drawing near, 
A vapor heavy, hueless, formless. 

cold, 
Came floating on for many a month 

and year, 
Unheeded : and 1 thought I would 

have spoken. 
And wani'd that madman ere it grew 

too late : 
But, as in dreams, I could not. Mine 

was broken. 
When that cold vapor touch'd the 

palace gate. 
And linked again. 1 ««iNT \iit2aL^XL tscj 

head 



ODK-^INTEimATIONAL EXHIBITION. 



83 



Hadam— if I know your sex. 
From the fashion of your bones, 

" No, I cannot praise the fire 
In your eye— nor yet your lip : 

All the more do I admire 
Joints of cunning workmanship. 

" Lo ! God*8 likeness — the ground- 
plan— 

Keither modeled, glazed, or framed : 
Bu'-'S me, thou rough sketch of man. 

Far too naked to be shamed I 

" Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance, 
While we keep a little breath 1 

I>riuk to heavy Ignorance ! 
Hob-and-nob with brother Death I 

** Thou art mazed, the night is long, 
And the longer night is near : 

What ! I am not all as wrong 
As a bitter jest is dear. 

"Youthful hopes, by scores, to all. 
When the locks are crisp and curl'd ; 

Unto me my maudlin gall 
And my mockeries oi the world. 

"Fill the cup, and fill the can ! 

Mingl'3 madness, mingle scorn ! 
Dregs of life, and lees of man : 

Yet wo will not die forlorn I " 

V. 

The voice grew faint : there came a 
further change : 

Once more uprose the mystic mountaiu- 
i-ange : 

Below were men and horses pierced 
with worms, 

And slowly quickening into lower 
forms ; 

By shards and scurf of salt, and scum 
of dross. 

Old plash 01 rains, and refuse patch'd 
with moss. 

Then some one spake : « Behold I it 
was a crime 

Of sense avenged by sense that wore 
with time.*^ 

Another said : << The crime of sense be- 
came 

The crime of malice, and is equal 
blame." 

And one ; * ' He had not wholly quench'd 
his power ; 

A little eraiu of conscience made him 
sour." 

At last I heard a voice upon the slooe 

Cry to the summit, ** Is there any 
hope?" 

To which an answer peal'd from that 
high land. 

But in a tongue no man could under- 
stand; 

And on the glimmering limit far with- 
drawn 

God made Himself an awful rose cf 
dawn. 



Come not, when I am dead. 
To drop thy foolish tears upon my 
grave. 



1 



To trample round my fallen head. 
And vex the unhappy dust thou 
wouldst not save. 
There let the wind sweep and t!io 
plover cry ; 
But thou, go'by. 

Child, if it were thine error or thy 
crime 
I care no longer, beini; all unblest : 
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am siok of 
Time, 
And I desire to rest. 
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me 
where I lie : 
Go by, go by. 



THE EAGLE 
FBAOME27T. 

He clasps the crag with hooked hands ; 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 
liing'd with tao azure world, he stands. 

The wrinkled sea beneath him' crawls ; 
He watches from his mountain walls; 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 



Move eastward, happy earth, and leavo 
Yon orange sunset waning slow : 

From fringes of the faded eve, 
O, happy planet, eastward go ; 

Till over thy dark shoulder glow 
Thy silver sister-world, and rise 
To glass herself in dewy eyes 

That watch me from the glen below. 

Ah, bear mo witli tliee, smoothly borne, 
Dip forward under titarry light, 

And move me to my marriage-mom. 
And round a£:aiirto happy night. 



INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION. 

Uplift a thousand voices full and sweet. 
In this wide hall with carth''8 invention 

stored. 
And iiraise th' invisible universal Lord, 
Who lets once more in peace the nations 
meet. 
Where Science, Art, and Labor have 
outpourM 
Their myriad horns of plenty at our feet. 

O silent father of our Kings to be 
MournM in thin golden hour of jubilee, 
For thiH, for all, we weep our thanks to 
thee I 

The world-compelling pian was thine, 
And lo ! the long lalx^rious milce, 
Of Palace; lo! the giant aisles, 
Rich in model and design : 
Harvest-tool and husbandry, 
Loom and wheel and engin'ry, 
Secrets of thn sullen mine. 
Steel and gold, and corn and wine. 
Fabric rough, or FaVry ftne. 
Sunny tokens of the XAue, 




I H*TE tho liroiulful liollow \k 
It) Upa In Iho Held nbovo aro .... . 
Tha nd-ribb'd ledees drip vrilh a 
And Eeho Uierr -'■" •-—'■■ 



whatever U aali'd 






i'bob4d eivui] 
. Ilea ibe ' 



la Ufe-o ft 
I'd, undcrui,. 
ck UiBt leU w 



niEU'd, 



BriAking Ihdi 



nddiiUedlDLDIhe 



Bid lie fllue lilmsslf Juwn ? irho knot 
AndsTer lisiuutter'aoiul niajldeii'd. i 
And out tie walk'd when llie wiivl Ul[< 
And Ihe flylus gold of the tuiu'd wtwd 

t ramember the time, far tht 
By a ahuflled »iBp, by n deud 
And lay uulBeB alueed their i 
The Hhrlll-edgBd shrlok ol a 



light tt^l'd. b» ■ 
le wim a Bhock on 
thcr dlTlda Iho al 




? for a TBBt Rneculallon bad faU'il, 
ihrokeuwnrldHnewail™ ' 



ilaptr'd friabt, 



V;ilUny 



blB linn< 
^ old mm 



ra ! whOM? Ono mys, we areTllli 
it fame should al laaat by mo be m 



BroptoHgornedfru 

"Why do they prate i 
Pi.^£p«kets, each lu 



■! the I 



Jlrlt of Cain. hiitl>elti 
iieu Maahig lu wai oil . 

■dTiiniio. the notliB ol 



d IbB Hall, 

■ ■ ind drahfj. 



The viler, 
Oc the gold 



'( 



id tw ubealed, ami die ; »ho knows 



Peace la her vineyanl— jea I- 



dneEB DaBhee np In the mfflan'a head, 
n« lings to the yeli n( tlio trampled Hl(e. 
ni and plaaler are aold to the poor for bread. 



And Sleep nrort lie down aim'd, for the TlUanoni eentre-blta 
Giiud on Ihe wakeful en in the hush ol the moonleBB nlshu, 
While anolhei la clieatlng the sick ot a few last Easpe, as^e slU 
TopeftLle a polBou'd poLsou belUiid hlEf eHiueon lighte- 

■WhsnaMamnionite mother kills her babe fot a burial fee. 
And 'llDiour-Mamniou alius on a pile of ihUdrcn-E bones, 
la it peace or war ? better, war ! loud tvar by land and by aea, 
'War with a thousand battles, and shaking a hui^dred thronei. 

For I trost If an enemy's fleet came yonder round by the hll!. 
Aiid the rDBblng battle-boll Bang from the three-decker out ot the foam, 
That the Bmootfi-faceil snubuosed rogue would leap from bis counter an. 
And strike, if lie could, were it buC with his cheating yardwaud, home,- 

What I am I raging alone ai my father raged In his mood ? 
Mu« / too creep to the hollow and daah myself down and dia 
Kather than hold by the law that I made, nevermore to brood 
Ou a honor of Bhatter'd Umba and a wretched ewludler'a He ? 



'Woaldth 

Wrapt in 
And rave 


ere ba sorrow tor me f there was lose in th 
Jie silent thing that had made false haste 
a cloik, tu 1 BOW him, and ihoughi he wou 


d ilea and speak 


lamalck 

Why sliou 

VV«eA"g 


of theHatt andthehill.Iamilckot the 
Id I stay ? can a sweeter chance ever come 
the nerves of motion as well as the i.erves 
ut wise If I fled from the place aud the pit 


""m^hera"?""'"' 


Workmen iipat the H«li 1-U»r «" coming back (™n ab™d ; 

1 have heard, 1 know not whence, ot the siiigular beauty of Maud ; 
1 play'd with the girl when a child ; she ptomlned tUen to be fair. 



STaud with her TenturouB climbing! and tumbles and childish ascac 
Mn;:d the delight of the village, ihe ringing joy of the Hull, 
Maud with her sweet puise-moutli when my lailier dangled the gra| 
Maud the beloved ot my mother, the moou-taced daillng of all,— 

What Is she now 7 My dreams are had. She may bring me a curse. 
No. thne is fatter game on the moor ; she will let me alone. 
ThankB, for the Heiid best knows whether woman or man he tlie woi 
Iwlll buty myself lu myself, and the Devil uiay pipe to his own, 
II. 
harelelgh'd toracalm: God grant Imay flnditatlast ■ 

id when her carriage past. 



■e broXei 



ectly beai 



a 



PerfL___, _ 

Alilh»tIsaw(torher . _., , 

Faultily faultless, icily I'egulsr, splendidly null. 

Dead pertecUon, no more ; nothing nuJie, If it had not been 

C^an niiderlip, you nniy call It a I'ltUe too ripe. tw. full. '"' 

Or the least little delicate aaullliie curve in a Kensltive nose. 

From what I escaped heart ^ree, with the least little touch of spleaih 






It (ac, 



III. 

'h all spleenful fc 
of an eyelash dea 



nelly m 



T- 



Uoua but in thought to your beauty, and ever as 
Growing and fading and growing upon me withoi 
Lamiiious, gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, half llie mguL lonn 
tirowlug aud fading widi.'nivitie, till I could beai' It no mote. 



pale as l>efoce 
liie night long 



\ 



« MAUD. 

Bnt uroic, und nil by m jieIC In m; own duk cordoii cniiitd, 
LiatBuiiio iiow lu tho Ilduin tls broail-flmiE ulifuwreoliliiBroar. 
>^ow to tjie 3Vr0fiui iif k lUBudeii'il beach ifrat^d dawn by tba w^v^ 
Walk-.l ill a wiuUv wliirl by u gbaetly gllmnivr. nnd fouud ^ 

Ilia BliiuiuH d&9aul dead, siid Urion low lu lug giavu. 

n'. 

A >m.i.iO!i emerald* biealt from tlio ruby-baddBd limo 
In tliQ lltlia K^XB Hilars 1 «)(— sli, wherefui'e cilniiot I ba 
IJko Uiiugs oC Uia HSKin igajr, like tlia butuitlful hudii bliLnd. 
'Wlioii Iba (ai-olf ■■!! \t bluHiiby Ihe breeze of n witer clliiiu, 

^D slleuC MipiddtodiiiiiiEled marciaee liug ot tlie lnudV 

Below me, thoro, Is the Tlllnae, ond looki how qnlet Bndsmnll ! 
And ™t bubblos o'er like a cllj-, wilh goBElp, ecandal, and ■pile : 
And Jack oil hU sle-lioiue bentli bu u muiy lies as n Ciar : ' 
Andlieie ontLe landwurd Bide, by it red rock. nllniiuenUioU&ll ■ 
And »p in IhH high Hnll-gacdeii I see lier pass Tike s llirbt t 
JluL sorrow aeiie mo U e«et thu light be my leadliis star ! 

'When hare T bow'd to her father, the wrinkled head ot the raee "■ 
I met hot to-day with bet biBther. hut uol to licr brother I bow'di 
I bow'd to his lady-sister as Hho rode by on tha InooT ; 
■.. — 1. ^ — .- ,^^., ,, pride fluh'J c — •- — •- ■ -- 



le Mayliy ig to 
id the whole 1 



sr ready to slanderindBt 
nuiu-sci. Euiile, like a ■loii'.otlika 
I let (he world hare its way : 
rapine, a bami no preacher esn lies 
the swallow, UiB sparrow apear'd In 
ood where 1 sU Is a world of pliuidi 



TTe are puppets. Mi 
itjiushea 



hlB pride, and Eeanly talr in her flowe 
iraretnoyed by an uiigean hand at nci 
the board, and iithera ever lueoccd? 
Ahyet. wccannotbe kind to each other liere for an hour; 
■Vfa whl!>iJer. and hint, and chuckle, and criu at a brother's shai 
However we brave It out, we men are a IRtio bread. 



9 Bft was of old the Lord and Master ot Earth, 
his hleti Bun flatoe, and LIb tKct blliavriuE lati, 

onths go la the ebapliig an Tnlant ripe for hls^iirth, 
million ot ages have gone to the niaklnE of moa : 
I now la Qni, but is ha tbelaac? Is ha not loo hue? 



a million ot ages 
j))nl,butisha tl 

The man of science MmaelF Is fo 

'ili'e^pitss'miBCu tieart'of the poe"! 
1 would not marvel at olUier, bu 
Fur not ti> desiro or admire, if a 
Than to walk all day like Iho ml 



lar of glory, and Tain, 
. iplril bounded and uuor: 
I whiri-d Into foUy and vice, 

otfeouid T^mlt. w"r" inoro 
,11 ot old In a garden of sploa. 



For tba drift of (he Maker !s dark, an IsIs Iih! by Ihe veil, 

■Who kHOWB the wavB of the world, Imw Uoil will bring them ahOBtt 

Shal? fweep U a Volnnd tall" ^If 1 stiriek If a Huiwary fail 7 
Or an Infant ciTlllutllon he ruled with rod or with kiinut '.' 
J/mrouoEoiadstliatrorld. audHeUuil mada It wilt ^uida. 






MAUD, 

JX, 

Be mine a philosopher's life in the quiet woodland waySy 

Where if I c&irnot be gay let a passionless peace be my lot. 

Far-off from the clamor of liars belied in the hubbub of lies ; 

From the long-neck'd geese of the world Uiatare ever hissing dispraise 

Because their natures ai'e little, and. whetlier he heed it or not, 

YThere each mau walks with his head iu a cloud of poisonous flies. 

X. 

And most of all would I flee from the cruel madness of lovei 
The honey of poisoii-tiowers and all the measureless ill. 
Ah Maud, you milk white fawn, you are all unmeet for a wife. 
Your mother is nmte in her grave as her image in marble above ; 
Your father is ever in London, you wander about at ymir will ; 
You have but fed on the roses, aud lain iu the lilies of life. 



fty 



V. 



I. 



A VOICE by the cedar tree. 

In the meadow under the Hall ! 

She is singing an air that is known to 

me, 
A passionate ballad gallant and gay, 
A martial sons like a trumpet's call ! 
Singing alone m the morning of life, 
Iu the happy morning of life and of 

May, 
Singing of men that in battle array, 
Beady in heart and ready in hand, 
March with banner and bugle and fife 
To the death, for their native laud. 

II. 

Mand with her exquisite face, 

And wild voice pealing up to the sun- 
ny sky, 

And feet like sunny gems on an Eng- 
lish green, 

Maud in the light of her youth and her 
grace, 

Singing of Death, and of Honor that 
cannot die, 

Till I well could weep for a time so 
sordid and mean. 

And myself so languid and base. 

III. 

Silence, beautiful voice 

Be still, for you only trouble the mind 

With a joy in which I cannot rejoice, 

A glory I shall not find. 

Still ! I will hear you no more. 

For your sweetness hardly leaves me a 

choice 
But to move to the meadow and fall 

before 
Her feet on the meadow grass, and 

adore. 
Not her, who is neither courtly nor 

khid, 
Kot her, not her, but a voice. 

VI. 

I. 

MoRXcro arises stormy and pale, 

No san, but a wannish glare 

In fold npou fold of hueless cloud, 



And the budded peaks of the wood art 

bow'd 
Caught and oufF'd by the gale : 
I had fancied it woiild be fair. 

II. 

Whom but Maud should I meet 
Last night, when the sunset bum*d 
On the Dlossom'd gable-ends 
At the head of the village street. 
Whom but Maud should I meet? 
And she touch'd my hand with a smil» 

so sweet 
She made me divine amends 
For a courtesy not returned. 

III. 

And thus a delicate spark 
Of glowinc and growing light 
'lino* the livelong hours of the dark 
Kept itself warm in the heart of mr 

dreams. 
Ready to burst in a colored flame ; 
Till at last when the morning came 
In a cloud, it faded, and seems 
But an ashen-gray delight. 

IV. 

Wliat if with her sunny hair, 

Aud smile as sunny as cold, 

She meant to weave nie a snare 

Of some coquettieh deceit, 

Cleopatra-like as of old 

To entangle me when we met, 

To have her lion roll in a silken net 

And fawn at a victor's feet. 

V. 

Ah, what shall I be at fiftjr 

Should Nature keep me alive, 

If I tind the world so Mtter 

When I am but twenty-five? 

Yet, if she were not a cheat. 

If Maud were all that she seem*d, 

And her smile were all that I dream'4 

Then the world were not so bitter 

But a smile could make it sweet. 

VI. 

Wlmt if tho* her eye seem'd full 
Of a kind intent to me. 
What if that dandy-despot, he, 
That jewell'd mass of millinery. 
That oil'd and curl'd A88^t\wv'&>3i5\ 
Smelling of musk and ol Wo\«siq&« 



7 




MAUD. 



89 



Whose old grandfather has lately 

died, 
Gone to a blacker pit, for whom 
Grimy nakedness dragging his trucks 
And laying Lis trams in a poison'd 

gloom 
Wrought, till he crept from a gutted 

mine 
Master of half a seiTile Fhire, 
And left his coal all tum'd into gold 
To a grandson, first of his noble line, 
Rich In the grace all women desire, 
Strong in the power that all men adore. 
And simper and set their voices lower, 
And soften as if to a girl, and hold 
Awe-stricken breaths at a work divine, 
Seeing his gewgaw castle shine, 
Kew as his title, built last year. 
There amid perky larches and pine. 
And over the sullen-purple moor 
(Look at it) pricking a cockney ear. 

II. 

"What, has he found my jewel out? 
For one of tlie two that ro<lc at her side 
Bound for the Hall, I am sure was he : 
Bound for the Hall, and I think for a 

bride. 
Blithe would her brother's acceptance 

be. 
Maud could be gracious too, no doubt. 
To a lord, a captain, a padded shape, 
A bought commission, a waxen face, 
A rabbit mouth tliat is ever agape- 
Bought ? what is it he cannot buy ? 
And therefore splenetic, personal.base, 
A wounded thing with a rancorous cry. 
At war with myself and a wretched 

race. 
Sick, sick to the heart of life, am I. 

iir. 

Last week came one to the county town , 
To preach our poor little army down. 
And play the game of the despot kings, 
Tho' the state has done it and thrice as 

well : 
This broad-brimm'd hawker of holy 

things, 
Whose ear is cramm'd with his cotton, 

and rings 
Even in dreams to the chink of his 

pence. 
This huckster put down war ! can he 

tell 
Whether war be a cause or a conse- 
quence ? 
Put down the passions that make earth 

Hell! 
Down with ambition, avarice, pride. 
Jealousy, down ! cut off from the mind 
Tl»e bitter springs of anger and fear ; 
I>own too, down at your own fireside. 
With the evil tongiie and the evil ear, 
For each is at war with mankind. 

IV. 

I wish I could hear again 

Tlie chivalrous battle-song 

ThAt ahewaxfoled alone in ner Joy ! 



I might persuade myself then 

She would not do herself this great 

wrong. 
To take a wanton dissolute boy 
For a man and leader of men. 

V. 

Ah God, for a man with heart, head, 

hand. 
Like »onie of the simple great onos 

gone 
For ever and ever by. 
One still strong man in a blatant land, 
Whatever they call him, what care I, 
Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, — one 
Who can rule and dare not lie. 

VI. 

And ah for a man to arise in me. 
That the man 1 am may cease to be ! 

XI. 
I. 

LET the solid ground 
Not fail beneath my feet 

Before my life has found 

What some have found so sweet ; 
Then let come what come may, 
What matter if 1 go mad, 

1 shall have had my day. 

II. 
Let the sweet heavens endure, 

Not close and darken above me 
Before I am quite quite sure 

That there is one to love me ; 
Tlien let come what come may 
To a life that has been so sad, 
1 shall have had my tlay. 

xn. 

I. 

Birds in the high Hall-garden 
When twilight was falling, 

Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud, 
They were crying and calling. 

II. 
Wliere was Maud? in our wood ; 

And 1, who else, was with her, 
Gathering woodland lilies, 

Myriads blow together. 

III. 
Birds in our wood sane 

Uingiiig thro' the valleys, 
Maud is here, here, here 

In among the lilies. 

IV. 

I kiss'd her slender hand. 
She took the kiss sedately ; 

Maud is not seventeen. 
But she is tall and stately. 

V. 

I to ciy out on pride 
Who have won her favor ? 

Maud were sure of Heaven 
If lowliness could save her. 

VT. 

1 know the way she went 
Home with her maiden poey, 



V 



For her/MthoTBloucli' 
And left Uia dalaieg n»y. 

Birds lu tliB Mgh Hall-oanleii 

WlimlB^liHiC Mmui. lifauJ, ''' 

Look, H Iiorae nt Uin hnni, 
Ami llttls King Ubiirlej hihtU 

Co back, iBjr Inra. »rr"M Uio mo 
You are uot li«r daiUnf- « 



Tlmi H mlaniHT hard lo be borne ? 
Well, l:e iiiny 11 va to liatp me yei. 
Fool lliat 1 uii to be yaxt wilb bli 

pride! 
I put litin, I WM proBBliig bl9 lBiid> ; 
Be aWoa oil Uie pKUl a llltle agldQ ; 
Hitfflce, as 1 b[sii(, iii spile r>C >[>lte. 
Ubi > broad^lowu cgmeUu^M, i«d 



Btopt.anddien wllh a 
LoiBurely tupping b glr 
Aiiil curving ■ cuiilumi 



Why >1M lio berc in Lis father's chair? 
TliatoldiiiaiiiiKTflr ••nines to lii^plHce: 
Bli*nilwllevflblmaHLHm«dlube><fleiiV 
For only ciiice, in ilio villsgu alreet, 
LaM year, I cangbt a glimpse ot his 



AiidMamMin 
Tbo' I fuii!y h 



ns Maud !« sweet ; 
etiiem only dne 
by the other all le; 



Howecer sha came to be so allitd. 
Aiid fair witbnut, faitlltul within, 
Maud tu him ta nothing skin: 

A1s!id Iier only the rliimoriiBrinother, 
AIJ, ilt upoa the 



, nngrji «piril, anil lotl' 



MAtm haa a nnieii oF roses 
An,l lilies Inlr on a lawn : 
Tliere aho walks ] ii her atute 
Ami tends upon lied and bower. 



tiiilataoil by herEanleii 
L Hou ramps at the t^ip, 
leUclaiptby apaseiou 



nlhet 



IF the I 



biioks 



Lights with herself, whi 
She fills by her muKlc ni 
Aud her brother Ilngen late 
With a rojiteriug roniiiaiiy) la 
Upon JIand'M own gnrdcii-nain 
Aiid 1 tlioDght as 1 stood, it a I 

As ocean-roam In the moon, we 
On the bai'p of the uinUuw, i 

Delight 
"— "'-n desire, like a Elorlons 




MA UD. 



^l 



'\ea eT*n of wretdiod meat and drink, 

Jf 1 b« dear. 

If I be dear to some on« else ? 

' XVL 

I. 

Thir lump of earth has left his estate 
The lighter by the loss of his weight ; 
And so that he liud what he went to 

seek. 
And fulsome Pleasure clog him, and 

drown 
His heart in the gross mud-honey of 

town, 
He may stay for a year who has gone 

for a week : 
But this is the day when I must speak. 
And I see my Oread coming down, 
O this is the day ! 

beautiful creature, what am I 
That I dare to look her way ; 
Think I may hold dominion sweet, 
Lord of the pulse that is lord of her 

breast, 
And dream of her beauty with tender 

dread. 
From the delicate Arab arch of her 

feet 
To the grace that, bright and light as 

the crest 
Of a peacock, sits on her shining head, 
And she knows it not : O, if she knew 

it, 
To know her beautv might half undo it. 

1 know it the one brisnt thing to save 
My yet young life in «ie wilds of Time, 
Perhaps from madness, perhaps from 

crime. 
Perhaps from a selfish grave. 



be 



II. 
fastened 



to this fool 



"What, if she 

lord, 

Dare I bid her abide by her word ? 
Should I love her so well if she 
Had given her word to a thing so low? 
Shall I love her as well if she 
Can break her word were it even for 

me? 
I trust that it is not so. 

in. 
Catch not my breath, O clamorous 

heart. 
Let not my tongue be a thrall to my 

eye. 
For I must.tell her before we part, 
1 must tell her, or die. 

XVIL 

Go not, happy day. 

From the snining fields. 
Go not, happy day, 

Till the maiden yields. 
Bosy is the West, 

Bosy is the South, 
Boses are her cheeks, 

And A rose her mouth. 
When the happy Yes 

Falters from her lips, 
and hJuah the newt 



0*er tlie blowing ships. 
Over blowing seas. 

Over seas at rest» 
Pass the happy news, 

Blush it thi-o' the west ; 
Till the red man dance 

By his red cedar tree, 
And the red man's babe 

Leap, beyond tlie sea. 
Blush from West to East, 

Blush from East to West, 
Till the West is East, 

Bluah it thro' the West. 
Bosy is the West, 

Bosy is the South, 
Boses are her cheeks. 

And a rose her mouth. 

XVIII. 

I. 

I have led her home, my love, my only 
friend. 

There is none like her. none. 

And never yet so warmly ran my blood 

And sweetly, on and on 

Calming itself to the long-wish*d-for 
end, 

Full to the banks, close on the prom- 
ised good. 

II. 

None like her, none. 

Just now the ury-tongued laurels' pat- 
tering talk 

Seem'd her light foot along the garden 
walk, 

And shook my heart to think she 
comes once more ; 

But even then I heard her clos^ the 
door, 

The gates of Heaven are closed, and 
she is gone. 

III. 

There is none like her, none. 

Nor will be when our summers have 

deceased. 
O, art thou Figliing for Lebanon 
In the long breeze that streams to thy 

delicious East, 
Sighing for Lebanon, 
Dark cedar, tho' thy limbs )iave hero 

increased, 
Upon a pastoral slope as fair. 
And looking to the South, and fed 
With honey'd rain and delicate air. 
And haunted by the starry head 
Of her whose gentle will has changed 

my fate, 
And made my life a pei*fumed altar- 
flame ; 
And over whom thy darkness must 

have spread 
With such daylight as theirs of old, 

thy great 
Forefathers of the thomless garden, 

there 
Shadowing the BT\o'w-\VicW^'E."^«i\.\<3tSL 

whom she came. 



Rera irill I lie. while [liese 

Go In end out M It «t manr pl»j, 
■Who Bm no mora m all fotiorii, 
AsnUen ituem'il far bsLIcr lobe bom 
to labor Bud Llia mattock-hanleii'd 

Tlian liurBsd at eaga and branBhC to 

A ead aalialugy. the boundless plan 
That makeeyou (jraula in j-oot Iron 

' able, pitlleu, paulonlDiu eja. 



Cold flre^ 
UU noUilngne 



with p< 



Bliupla gltl. 
WoDld die : focBuUen-iieeming Deal 



A livelier emarald twinkles iu "ihv 
A pncec sapphire incltB into the ai^a. 

Kot die; but lire nllle at tmeotlirenlli. 
And leach (rue Ule (o light iriLIi niunni 

O. why ahouM Lotc, llko men in dduk- 

Spkehltf^banquetwILh the dust of 

doalh? 
Htkeumwer, Maudniv blis.'. 
Maud made my Maud by tluit long 

Ute or raj tlte', irllt thou not answer 



It that enchanted innsu onlr the >»ell 
ur tiie long wavei that roll in yonder 

And hark the dock within, Ihs iIlTer 

knell 
Ot twelve Bweet hours that paet in 

bridal wblte, 

o live, long na my pnlset 



Bu 


tiiow by thla n 
her light 


7 loTB ha> ClOMd 




stol'n anay 


ath hei band, and 














oiig the fiagm 
day. 

Vffriebt'i """ 


nta Dt the golden 


«a 


her maiden eiMB 


»pelL 


thlheothodmirey 














It ll but for ■ little 


pace 1 to ■■ 



And ye meauwlille Car over ; 

fell 
Beat to the nolaelesa mi 

night ! 
Has our whole earth gone ) 




Ot your soft splendors that : 

Beai, happy ataj^, timing with things 

Beat witli my hcarl 

heart »>i tell, 
Blest, but for some dark underi 



ly dark -dawning youlh, 

en'd watching a mother , 

that dead man atherhesn aiid 

ihherbutlr 

I tmat Ihat T did not talk 

To gentle Maud in our walk 

IFor olten in lonely wandering* 

I liave eumd him even to lUeloN 

things) 
But 1 trust that I did not talk, 
li'ot touch on her father'a hIu : 
lam sure 1 did but aueak 
Of my mother's fadeJ cheek 
Whan it slowly grew to Ihln. 
That I felt she was slowly dying 
Veit Willi lawjeta sud haraai'S wtHl 

For how often I caught ber with eysi 



b11«< 



ATAUD. 



93 



Shaking her head at her son and sigh- 
ins 
A world of trouble within ! 

IT. 

And Maud too, Maud was moved 
To speak of the mother she loved 
As one scarce less forlorn. 
Dying abroad and it seems apart 
From him who had ceased to share her 

heart, 
And ever mourning over the feud, 
The household Fui^ spriukled with 

blood 
By which our houses are torn : 
How strange was what she said, 
When only Maud and the brother 
Hung over her dving bed- 
That Maud's dark father and mine 
Had bound us one to the other. 
Betrothed us over their wine. 
On the day when Maud was bom ; 
Seal*d her mine from her first sweet 

breath. 
Mine, mine by a right, from birth till 

death. 
Mine, mine— our fathers have sworn. 

V. 

But the true blood spilt had in it a 

heat 
To dissolve the precious seal on a bond, 
That, if left uncanceird, had been so 

sweet : 
And none of us thought of a something 

beyond, 
A desire that awoke in the heart of the 

child. 
As it were a duty done to the tomb, 
To be friends for her sake, to l>e recon- 
ciled ; 
And I was cursing them and my doom. 
And letting a dangerous thought run 

wild 
While often abroad in the fragrant 

gloom 
Of foreign churches— I see her there, 
Briffht Knglish lily, breathing a prayer 
To oe friends, to be reconcile ! 

VI. 

But then what a flint is he ! 
Abroad, at Florence, at Rome, 
I find whenever she touch'don me 
This brother had laugh*d her down. 
And at last, when each came home, 
He had darken*d into a frown. 
Chid her, and forbid her to speak 
To me. her friend of the years before ; 
And this was what had redden'd her 

cheek 
When 1 bow'd to her on the moor. 

VII. 

Tet Maod. altho' not blind 

To the faults of his heart and mind 

I see she cannot but love him. 

And says ha is rough but kind, 

And wishes me to approve him, 

And tells me. when she lay 

BIek onee* with a tear ot worse, \ 



That he left his wine and horses and 

play. 
Sat with her, read to her, night and day. 
And teuded her like a nurse* 

VIII. 

Kind ? but the deathbed desire 
Spurned by this heir of the liar— 
Kough but kind ? yet I know 
He has plotted against me in this. 
That he plots against me still. 
Kind to Maud f that were not amiss. 
Well, rough but kind; why let it be sos 
For shall not Maud have lier will ? 

IX. 

For, Maud, so tender and true, 
As Ions as my life endures 
I feel 1 shall owe you a debt. 
That I never can hope to pay ; 
And if ever I should forget 
That I owe this debt to you 
And for your sweet sake to yours ; 

then, what then shall I say ?— 
If ever I shmild forget. 

May God make me more wretched 
Thau ever I have been yet ! 

X. 

So now I have sworn to bury 
All this dead body of hate, 

1 feel so f^ee and so clear 

By the loss of that dead weight. 
That I should grow light-headed, I fear- 
Fantastically merry ; 
But that her brother comes, like a 

blight 
On my fresh hope, to the Hall to-night. 

XX. 

I. 

Strange, that I felt so gay. 
Strange, that / tried to-day 
To beguile her melancholy ; 
The Sultan, as we name him,— 
She did not wish to blame him — 
But he vext her and perplext her 
With his worldly talk and folly : 
Was it gentle to reprove her 
For stealing out of view 
From a little lazy lover 
Who but claims her as his due ? 
Or for chilling his caresses 
By the coldness of her manners, 
Kay, the plainness of her dresses ? 
Now I know her but in two, 
Nor can pronounce upon it 
If one should ask me whether 
The habit, hat, and feather, 
Or the frock and gypsy bonnet 
Be the neater andcompleter ; 
For nothing can be sweeter 
Thau maiden Maud in either. 

n. 

But to-morrow, if we live. 
Our ponderous squire will give 
A grand political dinner 
To half the squireWnes ivew *. 
And Maud wu\ weax net ^*i>we\%> 




I And tbe ^Ird of pray will hoi 
I Anil lliH lltniootabope to wii 
I WIIL liH chirrup n S"' -" 

w 



_ A gisnil political dlim 

I To Ilia mail of muiy B 

II A gnCliirliiE ot tlie To 

frorttia: 



I iiiit to Hie lilj, " There la hut on« 
With wliom B^e baa heart to be nr. 

■Wliau will the dan«ni lea*o her»lS!'- 
Slio In He»ry oEdttuce Hud play." 

And lialt to Ihs riding day; ^" 



ars 



hsc a'^'y- 



'iS'tlaii 



I km not lnv1t«d._ 
p ] am all IB vM dellgUti 



Till tba dan 



lo Ungc 
luliiB «■ 
then, 



»ill bt 



: 



III Maud In all lior eplcu 
SXI. 
BrruLET oroulng rn; ground, 
And brliiciiig me down Ironi tbe Hal 
TIilB EanUii-rose that I lauiid. 
JV>rBattul of &1aud and me, • 
AnJloM in trouble »ud jnovlnj-mun 
Sara at tha bead oC a tinkling £all, 
And trrlng to pus to tbe gca : 
O Blvnlet, bom nt Uia Hall. 
My Mand bu aent It by tbee 

8t I read bar Bwaet will rigbt) 
nabliublngmlHlontonie. 
Saying In ndor and color, " Ab, ba 
Among tbe roaes to-idgbt." 



CO«r. Into tlio garden, Mnud, 




rose, " Tho brief nl^bl 
ind wine. 



O young lord-lov 



Anit tbo bdhI oC 

Aa Uio muBlfl t ^ „,. 

Ami long by the garden laka 1 ataod. 
For I beard your -• — ■-- '" 



Ibo ball : 



From IhH meadow your-wolka have leTI 



And tbo valleys of Paiadlao. 
The Blender aoada woulil not sbaks 
The wMtQ l^B-bl. 

pimpernel doiei 



MAUD. 



^ 



7^6 laikspnr lUtens, <* I hear, I hear ;" 
And the lily whisperSt ''I wait." 

XI. 
She is coming, my own, my sweet; 

Were it ever so airy a tread, 
Myheart would hear her and beat, 

Were it earth in an earthy bed ; 
My dust would hear her and beat, 

Had I lain for a century dead ; 
Would start and tremble under her 
feet, 

And blossom in purple and red. 

XXIII. 
I. 

" Hio fault was mine, the fault was 

mine" — 
Why am I sitting here so stmm'd and 

still, 
Plucking the harmless wild-flower on 

the hill?— 
It is this guilty hand ! — 
And there rises ever a passionate cry 
From underneath iu the darkening 

land-— 
What is it, that has been done ? 
O dawn of Eden bright ovei eailh and 

sky 
The fires of Hell brake out of thy ris- 
ing sun. 
The fires of Hell and of Hate ; 
For she, sweet soul, had hardly spoken 

a word. 
When her brother ran iu his rage to 

the gate. 
He came with the babe>f aced lord ; 
Heap*d on her terms of disgrace. 
And while she wept, and I strove to be 

cool. 
He fiercely gave me the lie, 
Till I with as fierce an anger spoke, 
And he struck me, madman, over the 

face. 
Struck me before the languid fool, 
Wlio was gaping an grinning by : 
Struck for lumself an evil stroke ; 
Wrought for his house an irredeemable 

woe ; 
For front to front in an hour we stood, 
And a million horrible bellowing 

echoes broke 
From the red-ribb*d hollow behind the 

wood. 
And tliunder*d up into Heaven the 

Christless code. 
That must liave life for a blow. 
Ever and ever afresh they seem'd to 

grow. 
Was it he lay there with a fading eye ? 
<• The fault was mine," he whisper'd, 

"flvl" 
Then glided out of the jovous wood 
The ghastly Wraith of one that I 

know; 
And there rang on a sudden a passion- 
ate cry, 
A cry for a brother's blood : 
It will ring in my heart and my ears, 

tlUldIe»tUll die. 



II. 



Is it gone ? my pulses beat— 

What was it? a lying trick of the 

brain ? 
Yet I thouffht I saw her stand, 
A shadow there at my feet, 
Hieh over the shadowy land. 
It 18 gone ; and the heavens fall in a 

gentle rain, 
When they should burst and drown 

with deluging storms 
The feeble vassam of wine and anger 

and lust. 
The little hearts that know not how to 

forgive : 
Arise, my God, and strike, for we hold 

Thee just, 
Strike deail the whole weak race of 

venomous worms, 
That sting each other here in the dust ; 
We are not worthy to live. 

XXIV. 

I. 

See what a lovely shell. 
Small and pure as a pearl, 
Lying close to my foot, 
Frail, but a work divine, 
Made so f airily well 
With delicate spire and whorl. 
How exquisitely minute, 
A miracle of design ! 

11. 

What is it ? a learned man 
Could give it a clumsy name. 
Let him name it who can. 
The beauty would be the same. 

III. 

The tiny cell is forlorn, 
Void of the little living will 
That made it stir on the shore. 
Did he stand at the diamond door 
Of his house in a rainbow frill ? 
Did he push, when he was uncurl'd 
A golden foot or a fairy horn 
Tli^o' his dim water-world? 

IV. 

Slight, to be crush'd with a tap 
Of my finger-nail on the sand, 
Small, but a work divine, 
Frail, but of force to withstand, 
Year upon year, the shock 
Of cataract seas that snap 
The three decker's oaken spino 
Athwart the ledges of rock. 
Here on the Breton strand ! 

V. 

Breton, not Briton ; here 
Like a shipwreck'd man on a coast 
Of ancient fable and fear- 
Plagued with a flitting to and fro, 
A disease, a hard mechanic ghost 
That never came from on high 
Nor ever arose from below, 
But only moves with the moving eye» 




FlTlnBttloiigllielanclnnilllie 
Whj slioulif it look like Maud 
Am I lobe overawed 
Jiywhatlcsiiiiotbutknon- 



Back to the dark HeS'lliie 

Looking, ilitiikliig of all I hare lott ; 

But UlM of Lajuech l> uiliw. 



But *lie. ibe WDiild love nie«ll11 1 
Aiid u Ions, O God. ■■ alie 
Baia a grarii of lore for nio. 
So long, no doubt, no itfiubt, 
Bbali f nuiBe In 107 dark lie.irt. 
However weary, a apark o( will 
Koc to be trampled out. 

Blrange. that the mind, vhen fraugbb 
WlthapaxBlonaottiteiiae 

Mlfht drawn all Ufe lu the eye,— 
That it ahoulJ, by IkIus su ovsr- 

Huddenly atrlke on a sharper unss 

linilch Blie would liaye been past by I 

And now 1 reuianiber, 1, 

"Wlien be lay dyliiE Iliete, 

1 noUoed one ot his many ring! 

thought 
It is his moUier's Lair. 

ThoknowilChelie ilead? 



AmlEUlUyoC bio 
However thia may 



WhlielamDTerthesGB! 

~ ipeak lo tier all thluga : 



high, 



I thina* 

tcoby. 
oly and 



[Oby; 



y- 



But come to her 

asleep. 
Panera o[ tlie height, FDwera o 

And comlott her tho' 1 die. 
XXV. 

iDorhcanot alone) 

Ik thee why 
TIiou euiM not niidenUnd 
That Ibou Bit left for eTSr alone : 
Courage, poor stupid hsstt af *to 
one rsak thee why. 
Csra not thou to reply : 



"^fif^, 



i 



By the 
Wbsmx 



anyUiiugi 



I BRVB i»e birth. 
a III long embrwei 



A ftbadow fllla before me, 
Kot tbnu, but like 10 Lhee ; 
All Christy, Uiat U were paislhla 

that they mithi 

they be. 









It 16 



leforl 



voniiig 



Half the night I waste In sighs. 
Half In drasma I wri-ow afLer 
The delight of early mies ; 
III a wakeful doza I rorrow 
For the hail J, the lips, ilie eyes, 
For the meetlnE of the morrew. 
The cMlghi of liKp]>y lauehlet. 
The delight of low repUei. 

'Tla a momlni pure and sweet, 
And a dewy spleudur falls 
On the llttfe Bower that cUnp 



She la sliiglui; In the meadow, 
A lid the rTvulet at her feet 
Hippies oil In liglit and aliadow 
To the ballad that she slugs. 



nolhearherslngaior old. 
My bird with tbe aWiii"" h»i 
My own dove with tli 
But there ilugs 



snddsu a psasloa- 
dying or dead. 



3fAUD. 



97 



And I wake, mv dream is fled ; 
111 the shuddennff dawn, behold. 
Without knowledge, without pity, 
Bv the curtains of my bed 
Tuat abiding phantom cold. 



Tin. 



Get thee hence, nor come again. 
Mix not memory with doubt. 
Pass, thou deatnlike type of pain, 
Pass and cease to move about I 
*Ti8 the blot upon the brain 
That will show itself without. 



IX. 

Then I rise, the eavedrops fall. 
And the yellow vapors choke 
The great city sounding wide ; 
The day comes, a dull red ball 
Wrapt in drifts of lurid smoke 
Ou tne misty river-tide. 

X. 

Thro* the hubbub of the inarkot 

I steal, a wasted frame, 

It crosses here, it crosses there. 

Thro' all that crowd confused and loud, 

The shadow still the same ; 

And on my heavy eyelidn 

My anguish hangs like shame. 

XI. 

Alas for her that met me, 

That heard me softly call. 

Came glimmering thro' tbo laurels 

At the quiet evenfall. 

In the garden by the turrets 

Of the old manorial hall. 

XII. 

Would the happy spirit descend. 
Prom the realms of light and 8ou~, 
iu the cliamber or the street, 
As she looks among the blest. 
Should I fear to greet my friend 
Or to say *' forgive the wrong,'* 
Or to ask her, *' take nie, sweet. 
To the regions of thy rest ? " 

XIII. 

But the brood light glares nnd beats, 

And the shadow tilts and fleets 

And will not let me be ; 

And I loathe the squares and streets. 

And the faces that one meets. 

Hearts with no love for me : 

Always I lonsr to creep 

Into some stin cavern deep, 

There to weep, and weep, and v.*eep 

Jiy whole soul out to thee. 

xxvn. 

I. 

Dead, long dead, 
Long dead T 

AtuTmy heart is a handful of dust. 
And the wheels go over my head. 
And my bones are shaken with pain. 
For into a shallow gxavo they arc 
thrust, 



Only a yard beneath the street. 
And the hoofti of the horses beat, beat, 
The hoofs of the horses beat. 
Beat into my scalp and my brain, 
With never an end to the stream of 

passing feet. 
Driving, hurrying : marrying, burying- 
Clamor and rumble, and ringing and 

clatter. 
And here beneath it is all as bad. 
For I thought the dead had peace, but 

it is not so ; 
To have no peace in the grave, is thct 

not sad ? 
But up and down and to and fro, 
Ever about me the dead men go ; 
And then to hear a dead man chatter 
Is enough to drive one mad. 

II. 

Wretchedest age, since Time bojjan. 

They cannot even bury a man ; 

And tho' we paid our tithes iu the days 

that are gone. 
Not a bell was rung, not a prayer was 

read ; 
It is that which makes us loud in tho 

world of the dead ; 
There is none that does his work, not 

one ; 
A touch of their office might have suf« 

ficed, 
But the churchmen fain would kill 

their church. 
As tbo churches have kiird their 

Christ. 

III. 

Sec, there is one of us sobbing, 

Ko limit to his distress ; 

And another, a lord of all things, pray- 
ing 

To his own great self, as I guess ; 

And another, a statesman there, be- 
traying 

His party-secret, fool, to the press ; 

And yonder a vile physician, blabbing 

The case of his patient— all for what? 

To tickle the maggot bom in an empty 
head. 

And whecdlu a world that loves him 
not. 

For it la but a \7orld of the dead. 

ly. 

Kothing but idiot gabble I 

For tlie prophecy given of <Ad 

And then not understood. 

Has come to pass as foretold : 

Not let any man think for tixo public' 

good. 
But babble, merely for babble. 
For I never whisper'd a private affair 
Within the hearing of cat or mouse. 
No, not to myself m the closet alone. 
But I heard it shouted at once frgm 

the top of the house; 
Kverjrthing came to be known : 
Who told him we were theru? 



«PIV 



From Ihe nlldemau, fall of wo1y«< 

vbeie li« und to lu ; 
R> b>B gatbec'd tbe bones (or bla o'ei 

Sown irhfllp lo crack ; 
themuowfot joutm If , and howl 

Prophet, cnrsoma tholilabblncllpi 
And cuiHi me tbe Britlsb icimlu, tli< 

I know not vhetlier ha came In tbi 

Hanoier ship, 
But 1 know auu he Ilea oud listen 



It & ever [ 



eouaLMneEllen 
II, u 1 divine ; 

d, 



Butlltnowwlioro RgardBn gnrai. 
Knlnr than kUBtlC ill iliewDtldbeHlde, 
All made up of tUo Illy nnd rose 
Hut blow b; ulilil, when tba season is 

To uo EOund of dancing mutlc sjid 



^.VSxaa^^thl 



rad lite eput fur a prlinU ^1 
lo you. lawful nnd lawleta nai, 



s, why haTO thay not burisd pis 

kind to haYO mado me sgraiSMi 
™gli, 
. tbat mai nayer a. quiet Bleeper? 
Maybe Billl I am but liaU-desd ; 
"■'leu I cannot bo wholly dumb : 
lill cry to tbe aUipa above my baid 
Id touiebod]'. surely, Bocae kiud heu 

1 buty me, bnir ma 

Mv life liaa crept so Inuji on a brokBIl 
hiD' ufils at raadneaa, haunts of t 

That I come to be crateful at lost t> 

'Ittle thing : 
My mood Is ohangod, fot Ic fall a 

lima of year 
Wlaii the face of niglit U fair on 

dewy dawns. 
And the shining dalCodil dies, ukd 



ir Orion's era.vB low down la thai 
That Ilka B Bileut Ilghtnina unOer tb 

iho Keem'd to diyida in a dreim froi 

a band of Iha bleat. 
Lnd spoke ofnliopofor tlia woildl 

the coming wars— 
'And in that hope, dear soul. l( 

troablehane rail 
t:nowinB;Ilarryrocthee,"anJ pointed 
Is La glow'd lika a ruddy shield on tlw 



if be bad not been a Sultmi of 
JO Wo Ibot holD l!i bla Bide ? 



Tet now I could even veep lo thii 

"i 
Per what will the old man taj 
WhBn he tomes to the second iori>«e 

lu the pit r 



WbstSTer Iha Quaker hoi<b. irom 



as hut a dream, yet I 



BtEMb^l 



ytehleA 



Whenl thought that a wnrw 

indefeneaotlherlEbl, 
That on Iron tyranny now sli 



[or Britain's one sole God ba th* in 

lionnalro : 
!o more shall eommercB be all lo alV 

and Peace 



THE BROOK. 



09 



Pipe on her pastoral hillock a languid 
note, 

AxuX watch her harvest ripen, her herd 
increase, 

Nor the caunon-buUet rust on a sloth- 
ful shore, 

And the cobweb woven across the can- 
non's throat 

Shall shake its threaded tears in the 
wind no more. 

III. 

And as months ran on and rumor of 

battle grew, 
*<It is time, it is time, O passionate 

heart," said I 
(For I cleave to a cause that I felt to be 

pure and true), 
** It is time, O passionate heart and 

morbid eye, 
That old hysterical mock-disease 

should die> 
And I stood on a giant deck and mix'd 

my breath 
"With a loyal people shouting a battle 

cry, 
TUl I saw the dreary phantom arise 

and fly 
Far into the North, and battle, and 

seas of death. 

IT. 

Let it go or stay, so I wake to the 

higher aims 
Of a land that has lost for a little her 

lust of gold. 
And love of a peace that was full of 

wrongs and shames, 
Horrible, hateful, monstrous, not to 

be told; 
And hail once more to the banner of 

battle unroird ! 
Tho' many a ligl^t shall darken, and 

many shall weep 
For those that are crushed in the clash 

of jarring claims, 
Tet God*s just wrath shall be wreaked 

on a giant liar ; 
And many a darkness into the light 

shall leap, 
And shine in ^e sudden making of 

splendid names, 
iind noble thought be freer imder the 

sun. 
And the heart of a people beat with 

one desire ; 
For the peace, that I deem*d no peace, 

is over and done. 
And now by the side of the Black and 

the Baltic deep. 
And deathf ul-grinning mouths of tho 

fortress, flames 
The blood-red blossom of war with a 

heart of lire. 

T. 

liet it flame or fade, and the war roll 

down like a wind, 
We have proved we have hearts in a 
I, we are noble still, 



And mvself have awaked, as it seema^ 

to the better mind ; 
It is better to tight for the good, than 

to rail at the ill ; 
I have felt with my native land, I am 

one with my kind, 
I embrace the purpose of God, and the 

doom assign'd. 



THE BROOK; 

AN IDYL. 

** Here, by this brook, we parted ; I to 

the East 
And he for Italy— too late— too late ; 
One whom the strong sons of the world 

despise ; 
For luckv rhymes to him were scrip 

and snare, 
And mellow metres more than cent for 

cent: 
Nor could he understand how money 

breeds, 
Thought it a dead thing ; yet himself 

could make 
The thing that is not as the thing that 

is. 

had he lived ! In our schoolbooks 

we say. 
Of those that held their heads above 

the crowd, 
They flourish'd then or then ; but life 

in him 
Could scarce be said to flourish, only 

touch'd 
On such a time as eoes before the leaf* 
When all the wooa stands in a mist of 

green, 
Andnothing perfect : yet the brook he 

loved. 
For which, in branding summers of 

Bengal, 
Or ev'n the sweet half -English Neil- 

gherry air 

1 panted, seems, as I re-listen to it. 
Prattling the primrose fancies of the 

boy. 
To me that loved him ; for 'O Brook,' 

he says, 
« O babbling brook,* says Edmund in 

his rhyme, 
< Whence come you ? * and the brook, 

why not ? replies : 

I come from haunts of coot and hem, 

I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down u valley. 

By thirty hills I hurry down. 

Or slip between the ridges. 
By twenty thorps, a little town. 

And half a hundred bridges. . 
Till last by Philip's farm I flow 

To join the brimming river. 
For men may come and men may go 

But I go on for ever. 

"Poor lad, be died at Florence 
quite worn out, 




TSE BnOOK. 



, The™ ti Dani- 



SUmli PliIUp's farm nliere lirooli si 



Wlih nail 

By mftu. 
And m»ny a fniiT f"reli 

With wlllow-weod and 
I cliatter, chBtt«r, m I Hov 
For tnoii ma,j como aiiS nie 

"But Fhlllp chanered 
*TOnk OF b'-" 
M\V; all 

«"da Ic 



■H mj baiihs I fret. 



md follon, 
land eel 
id mallow. 



^Mrplus, llko tlie 



I wind about, and In snti out, 



Wilh many i 
AboTs tbe 

And draw tl 
To Jcln tht 



lallBlmiE.nndlli 



> on foe e 



K 



Bafora 1 patted with poc 
By Ihfll old bridge wlikh, 1 
SOU inaiteB a hoRry ejeb 
Bfyond It, wlieie Ibe wat 



Hiletlliig a random bn 

Donii. 
.nd i.uHb'd at Pblllp's 

Tlie Bate, 
-paited from a waat 



Hnlf- 



oi Bonny 
ordeo-gate. 

II d Koldlng 



A be clamor'd fi'om nctiHi- 
To Katla aomewliere In the walks be- 

me, winding under woodbiiio 

Alltliefl~ul'teT'd,nitb]iprevellilgdnmi. 
FreBli apple- blo^ujui, LlUBliiug lor u 

" What WQS lb ? leaa at a 



neutUuui 



ncaly.monthedpldlan- 
Dl von^e 'Uia Feeling f ram her mate Uie 
(he told me. She and Jamealijid 
What tBuse of quarrel? Xone, Bhs 



JomeH bad m 
the CBuoc 

I learnt [ha 
JealouBici 



I bad QI<!ketin( 
Who anger'd 



^ mnlden of our century, j'et moB 

L daughter of our meadow, y«t no 

StiaigbC. bat as ilsaomo oa a baie 

ler eye* h baibful aiurv. and ber ball 
D dIobs aiul liuB the dieiUiut, whei 
Iha shell 
Divides threefold to iboiT the fruit 

and her IST'Off cousin and be- 
trothed, 

James WIUdhb, of one name nod heart 
with ber. 

Foe here 1 came, ttreuty yoara baek— 



Some ficnre lilt 
Uuflnfm'd, ill 



like a «izard-i 
el. let my q 
Uuahine S\ 



It James vers coming, 'Coming 
every day- 
e aiiBwer'J, 'crer longliiB to ei. 



KoA James departed veit with bim 

lowfouldl belpher? 'Woaldt— was 

Claapt banila aai that petitionary 

-^t f^e^l seventeen aubducd me era 

she spoke) 
O would J take her father tor Oao 

half-hour, and let him talk to 






And ei-en while she epoka, I saw wbera 
Made toward us, like a wader In th« 
Beyonil the brook, wi^t.deep In 
O Eaile, what 1 suSei'd tor ywu safct I 



THE BROOK, 



101 



For in I went, and caird old Philip 

out 
To show tho farm: full willingly he 

roee: 
He led me thzo' the shoru sweet-emell- 

ing laue:s 
Of his wheat-Buburb, babbling as he 

went. 
lie praised his laud, his horses, his 

maciiiues ; 
Ue praised his ploughs, his cows, his 

hogs, his dogs ; 
He praised his heus, his geese, his 

guiuearhens ; 
His pigeons, who in session on their 

rools 
Approved him, bowing at their own 

deserts : 
Then from the plaintive mother's teat 

he took 
Iler blind and shuddering puppies, 

. naming each, 
And naming those, his friends, for 

whom they were : 
Then crost the common into Darnley 

chase 
To show Sir Arthur*s deer. In copse 

and f em 
Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail. 
Then, seated on a serpent -rooted 

beech, 
Ue pointed out a pasturing colt, and 

said: 
' That was the four year-old I sold tho 

Squire.* 
And there he told a long long«winded 

tale 
Of how the Squire had seen the colt at 

Ab^ow it was the thing his daughter 

wished, 
And how he sent the bailiff to the farm 
To learn the price, and what the price 

he ask'd. 
And how the bailiff swore that he was 

mad, 
But he stood firm and so the matter 

hung ; 
He gave them line : and five days after 

tbat 
He met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece, 
Who then and there had offer'd some- 
thing more, 
But he stood firm, and so the matter 

hung; 
He knew the man; the colt would fetch 

its price; 
He gave them line : and how by chance 

at last 
(It niig^t be May or April, he forgot. 
The litft of April or the first of Afay) 
He found the bailiff riding by the f aim. 
And, talking from the point he drew 

him in, 
And there he mellow'd all his heart 

wiUi ale, 
Until they closed a bargain, hand in 

hand. 
'flien, while I breathed in sight of 

haven, he, 



f 



g our own shadows thrice 



Poor fellow, could he help it ? recom- 
menced, 

And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle, 

Wild Will, Black Bess, Tantivy, Tal- 
lyho, 

Iteform, White Rose, Bellerophou, the 
Jilt, 

Arbaces, and Phenomenon, and the 
rest. 

Till, not to die z listener, I arose. 

And with me Philip, talking siill ; and 
so 

We turn'd our foreheads from the fall- 
ing sun. 

And foUowin 
as lonz 

As when they follow' d us from Philip's 
door. 

Arrived, and found the sun of sweet 
content 

Be-risen in Katie's eyes, and all things 
well. 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I slide by hazel covers ; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovera. 

I slip, I slide, I eloom, I glance. 
Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses ; 
I linger by my shingly bars ; 

I loiter round my cresses ; 

And out asain I curve and flow 
To join the brimming river. 

For men may come and men may go. 
But I go on for ever. 

Yes, men may come and go ; and these 

are gone. 
All gone. My dearest brother, Edmund 

sleeps. 
Not by tne well-known stream and 

rustic spire. 
But unfamiliar Arno, and the dome 
Of Brunellesclii, sleeps in peace : and 

he, 
Poor Philip, of all his lavish waste of 

words 
Bemains the lean P. W. on his tomb : 
I scraped the lichen from it : Katie 

walks 
By the long wash of Australasian Beas 
Far off, and holds her head to other 

stars. 
And breathes in converse seasons. All 

are gone." 
So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a 

style 
In the long hedge, and rolling in his 

mind 
Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er 

the brook 
A tonsured head in middle age forlorn. 
Mused, and was mute. On a sudden a 

low breath 
Of tender air made tremble in the 

hedge 



MkJBI 



^—^"^'^ 



12 ODi; 0.\ THE DEATH OF 

IB tra«llo blndvMd-belli And biiony 

id lirionk'il up. Theis stcnd a 
maiden near, 
Catling to pua. Ill much amaze be 






Ihe: 

i>iii« 

wiUiln : 






hieofoia la eliow the tnilt 



. Fiay nay N 

VrbK Ho Uiey caH'you?" "ICat 
"TlMCVer«>tniige. 

WliatmniameV" '■ Willow*." "Si 



Vm"i. 

./h»( rtc*^-"" 



tt la tor m 
" Indeed I " aiid hoie bo looli'd so self. 

pernleiit, 
lliBt Katie lanvli'd. and lauglilng 

bliuh'd, til) be 
LauRli'd alio, but oi oiio Ucfoco ba 

ii> taela agllmmecliiB Blransaiicn in 
hli dream. 

an looklna 't hor; "Toohnppj-, 
I rmb and fair lu our aad irorld'a 
bB the ghost of one wbo bora jour 
out tlieae maadowe, twenlj yeam 
"nnvaycranot henrd?" laid Kalle, 
Wo bought lbs farm ve tenanWd bo- 
l"iln like Jier? bo Ihoy Mid on 
rjo'u knew her lu her English 
nolber. as It (oemi jon did, the 
ranat ehe 1nve» W Inllc of, como 
ir JamOB Is In tho linrvcft 



My br"ll 
But abe 



I will t 



THE LETTEHS. 



And mw Iha allar cold and bare. 
A clog of lead was raund my feet, 

A biunl of pain aerona my brow ; 
"Cold altar, Heaveu aud eattb aball 

BEfOTD you hear my marriage vow." 



tt 



And then we met In Wralli and wrona 
We met, but onlV nusant to part. 

Fat I cold my greeting *aa and dry ; 
Sbsfalntlyamlled, aha hardl y moredi 

I saw with halt-nncooKloaa oyo 
She wore the colon 1 approred. 



And gave my letters baek to rib. 
And gave the Irinkele and Ibe rluge, 
Hy glf ta, when glfia ol uUie cuu 

AalookBs'fatheron tbelldngi 
kit his dead son, 1 look'd on these. 



The wooian caniiol be btdiared. 

"Thro'slandOT.meaneBtBpiiwnotHelf 'I 
(And women'B Blnxdor la Iha wont^ r 

And you. whomoiife I IdTedaowr" 
Tbru' you, my life will be aocuiL^ _ 

iBpohe wlthbeart.andheatandEarM, Q 
1 shook liei Divait wllb yagua J 

-■• - ■ from a mountain boi 



Wei 



dlut. 



ach othefB i 



Wb parted : sweetly gleam'dtheBtm,. ] 
And sweet the vaiior-braJded blue, ' 

I^w breezes fanuVl the beltry harp. 

As homeward br tha chardildre*. 
The very graves appear'a lo amllo. 

Bo fresh tbey rose lu ibadow'dawellt; 

"T>iirk porch,'' Isa1d."andsllent Bills, 
Thero romes a sound cf marilitgo 



Tivnv Ihe Great Duke 
With an empire's lamentatli 

Let us bury Uie Great imko 



nilna when their leaden Ml, 
riiirs rarry the warrinr^ pftll, 
soriDw darkens haulEt and ball. 



iCrMXulug Londou's cauml 



THE DUKE OF WELLING TO JST. 



1€8 



Let tho found of those lie wrongbt for, 
And the feet of those he fought for, 
Echo round his bones for evermore. 

III. 

Lead out the pageant : sad and slow. 

As fits an universal woe. 

Let the long long procession go, 

And let the sorrowing crowd about it 

grow. 
Ano^let the mournful martial music 

blow ; 
The last great Englishman is low. 

IV. 

Mourn, for to us he seems the last, 
Ilemembering all his gieatness in the 

Past. 
Ko more in soldier fashion will he 

greet 
With lifted hand the gazer in the 

street. 
O friends, our chief state-oracle is 

mute; 
Mourn for tho man of long enduring 

blood, 
The statesman>warrior, moderate, res- 
olute. 
Whole in himself, a common good. 
Mourn for the man of amplest in- 
fluence. 
Yet clearest of ambitious crime. 
Our greatest yet with least pretence, 
Great in council and great in war, 
Foremost captain of his time, 
Rich in saving common-sense, 
And, as the greatest only are, 
In his simplicity sublime. 
O good gray head which all men knew. 
O voice from which their omens all 

men drew, 
O iron nerve to true occasion true, 
O fallen at length that tower of strength 
Which stood four-square to all the 

winds that blew ! 
Such was he whom we deplore. 
The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. 
The great World-victor's victor will be 
seen no more. 

All is over and done : 

Render thanks to the Giver, 

England, for thy son. 

I^t the bell be tolVd. 

Render thanks to the Qiver, 

And render him to the mould. 

Under the cross of gold 

That shines over city and river, 

There he shall rest for ever 

Among tlie wise and the bold. 

Let the bell be toll'd : 

And a reverent people behold 

The towering car. the sable steeds : 

Bright let it be with its blazou'U deeds, 

Dark in its funeral fold. 

Let the bell be toll'd : 

And a deeper knell in the heart be 

knoird; 
And the sound of tho sorrowing an- 
them roird 



Thro' the dome of the golden cross-; 
And the volleying cannon thunder his 

loss; 
He knew their voices of old. 
For many a time in many a clime 
His captain*s-ear has heard them boom 
Bellowing victory, bellowing doom: 
When he with those deep voices 

wrought. 
Guarding realms and kings from 

shame ; 
With those deep voices our dead cap- 
tain taught 
The tyrant, and asserts his claim 
In that dread sound to the great name. 
Which he has worn so pure of blame. 
In praise and in dispraise the same, 
A man of well-attemper'd frame. 
O civic muse, to such a name, 
To such a name for ages long, { 

To such a name. i 

Preserve a broad approach of fame. 
And ever-echoing avenues of song. 

VI. 

Wlio is he that cometh, like an hon» 

or'd guest. 
With banner and with music, with 

soldier and with priest. 
With a nation weeping, and breaking 

on my rest ? 
Mighty Seaman, this is he 
Was great by land as thou by sea. 
Thine island loves thee well, thou fa> 

mousman. 
The greatest sailor since our world be* 

gan. 
Now, to the roll of muffled drums, i 
To thee the greatest soldier comes ; 
For this is he 

Was great by land as thou by sea ; 
His foes were thine ; he kept us free ; 
Ogive him welcome, this is he 
Worthy of our gorgeous rites, 
And worthy to be laid by tlieo ; 
For this is England's greatest son 
He that gain'd a hundred fights. 
Nor ever lost an English gun ; 
This is he that far away 
Against the myriads of Assaye 
Glash'd with his fiery few and won ; 
And underneath another sun. 
Warring on a later day, 
Round affrighted Lisbon drew 
The treble works ; the vast designs 
Of his labor'd rampart-lines, 
Where he greatly stood at bay, 
Whence he issued forth anew. 
And ever great and greater grew, 
Beating from the wasted vines 
Back to France her banded swarms. 
Back to France with countless blows, 
Till o'er the hills her eagles Hew 
Beyond the Pyrenean pines. 
Follow'd up in valley and glen 
With blare of bugle, clamor of men, 
Roll of cannon and clash of arms, 
And England pouring on her foes. 
Such a war had such a close. 
Again their ravening eagle rose 



10* THE DUKE OF \VI::LLINGT01S\ 

In migar, wbocl'd ini Europa-nhadoir- 



On tliat 

down; 
A dny ot oiiMti ot despair ! 

Tlidr BurgiiiB charges loam-d tliem- 

BElvefi awaj ; 
Last, the ProEHlsn trnrnpet lilew ; 
Tliro" tba loiiB-iDnnHiit«l air 
Heaven flasb'il n Euddeii Jublluit mjr, 
Aud down we sirept and cbaiged and 

Bo ETiat a soldier taneht us there, 
Wliat loiig-endDriiiic iisBiU cnuld do 



O aiuTionr o( tljo rilter-oonaled We, 
Oahaker ot tlio fialLiu niid Uia Kite, 
IlKUElitofthiuga that here befall 
toDcG n spirit BinoKg thlnce divine, 
JI love ot counlry movo thea Uiers i 



Se clad, bMBasa h 
And thro' Iho tent 
In full acdBim, 



ire laid bj 
a pcoplo-B 



evel and pomp HI 

Alleit their great com niaiider's ch 
^Ith honor» lionor, lioiior, hoiio 

hlni, 
Zlerjial nonor lo his name. 



The' all men olsa lliair nobler lii 

iorgel. 
Conf Deed by brainless mobs nnd 

Tluuik Him who islBd. us here, 

roughly set 
Hll Biiion Inhlown aeaa and BtoT 

Wo hare nVoIco, wlih which t< 

the debt 
or bouiidleas lore and reverenc 



thOio great n 
Dd beep i( uiira 



il, fro: 



O Statesmen, guard us, guard Ihe e 

the 10 ul 
Of Europe, keep our nobla Englu 

BetHlxt a people and their uicEi 

throne. 
Unit sober freedom out ot which Ok 



' loyal passion tor our tempt 

kings ; 

, saving that, ye help to save i 

pubUo wrong be cnzmbled 

1 drill the mw world tor Iho ni 
oEmind, 
crowds at Icnglh be sane 

, v-Uik iio more In slothful < 

neniber bim wbo led your hoRi 



His voice la sllan 



In Uiuiiilai 
who spoke : 



tempeat) 
silent i even It they brok 



Wljoi 



hour. 



riitu 



ruth to 



palter'd with Elemol God f< 

VHio let the tarbid Blieamii ot nmu 

Tbio' either hobbllnB world ot hlsh 

Whose lile was work, whose lanGuag* 

Wltb rugged maiima hewn from life 
Who never opoke aEnl"Bt n foe i 
Whose eighty winters tteeie wltlioii 

All great self-seekers trampling o 

Trutb-telfer was our England's Alt reJ 

Trulh-lover was our English Duko : 
Whatever rerani leap to light 
He iievet aholl be shamed. 

1,0. tbe leader in theEe glorlnns wan 
Kow to ulorlouB buriol slowly borne, 
FoUow'd by llio brave ot other landi, 
lie, on whom from boiii lier open 

lavish Honor ahower'd all her staI^ 
And ailluent FortDUe emptied allhei 

Tea, let all good Iblngs nwalt 

But as be laves or serres theaUte. 
Kot once or twice In our rough ialanft 

Tbo path ot duty was the ivny lo sloiyj 
He tliat walks il, only tbiiBLfng ' ' 
For the right, and lesmB lo deaden 
I^DVe ot Belt, betoro his Journey cIoki.— 
H« Bhall Hud tiie atubboru Ibletla bunt- 

Into gToBsy pnrplea, which ouln 

Kot oniaor twfto li 



TEE DAISY. 



m 



He, that Vfn following her commands. 
Oil witih toil of heart and knees and 

htttiAs. 
Thto' the long gorge to the far light 

has won 
Hi< path upwanl, and preraird. 
Shall find the toppling crags of Duty 

scaled 
Are close upon the shining table-lands 
To which our God Himself is moon 

and sun. 
Such was he : his work is done, 
But while the races of mankind en- 
dure, 
Let his great example stand 
Colossal, seen of every land, 
And keep the soldier firm, the states- 
man pure : 
Till in all lands and thro* all human 

story 
The path of duty be the way to glory: 
And let the land whose hearths he 

saved from shame 
Por many and many an age proclaim 
At civic revel and pomp and game 
And when the long-illumined cities 

flame. 
Their ever-loyal iron leader's fame, 
^Vith honor, honor, honor, honor to 

him, 
Xltemal honor to his name. 

IX. 

Peace, his triumph will be sung 
By some yet unmoulded tongue 
Far on in summers that we shall not 

see : 
Peace, It is a day of pain 
Por one about whose patriarchal knee 
I^te the little children clung 
O peace, it is a day of pain 
Per one, upon whose hand and heai't 

and brain 
Once the weight and fate of Europe 

hung. 
Ours the pain, be his the gain ! 
More than is of man's degree 
Must be with us, watching here 
At this, our great solemnity. 
Wliom we see not we revere, 
We revere, and we refrain 
Prom talk of battles loud and rain, 
And brawling memories all too free 
For such a wise humility 
As befits a solemn fane : 
We revere, and while we hear 
Tlie tides of Music's golden sea 
Setting toward eternity, 
Uplifted high in heart and hope are 

we, 
Until we doubt not that for one sotrne 
There must be other nobler work to do 
Than when he fought at Waterloo, 
And Victor he must ever be. 
Por tho* the Qiant Ages heave the hill 
And break the shore, and evermore 
Make and break, and work their will ; 
The' world on world in myriad myriads 

roll 
Bound us, each with different powers. 



And other forms of life than ours. 
What know we greater than the soul ? 
On God and Godlike men we t>uild our 

trust. 
Hush, tlie Dead March wails in the 

people's ears : 
The dark crowd moves, and there aro 

sobs and tears : 
The black earth yawns : the mortal 

disappears ; 
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; 
He is gone who seem'd so great. — 
Gone ; but nothing can bereave him 
Of the force he made his own 
Being here, and we believe him 
Something far advanced in State, 
And that he wears a truer crown 
Than any wreath that man can weave 

hlni. 
Speak no more of his renown, 
l^ay your earthly fancies down. 
And in the vast cathedral leave him. 
God accept him, Christ receive nim. 

1852. 



THE DAISY. 

"WRITTEN AT EDIXBUROtC. 

O Love, what hours were thine and 

mine 
In lands of palm and southern pine 

In lands of palm, of orange blost>oni, 
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine. 

What Roman strength Turbia show'd 
In ruin, by tlie mountain road ; 

How like a gem, beneath, the city 
Of little Monaco, basking, glow'd. 

How richly down tho rocky dell 
The torrent vineyard streaming fell 

To meet the sun and sunny waters. 
That only heaved with a summer swell. 

What slender campanili grew 
By bays, the peacock's neck in hue ; 
Where, here and there, on sandy 
beaches 
A milky-bell'd amaryllis blew. 

How young Columbus seem'd to rove, 
Yet present in his natal grove, 
Kow watching high on mountain 
cornice. 
And steering, now, from a purple cove, 

Now pacing mute by ocean's rim 
Till, in a narrow street and dim, 

1 stay'd the wheels at Cogoletto, 
And drank, and loyally drank to him. 

Nor knew we well what pleased us 

most. 
Not the dipt palm of which they 

boast ; 
But distant color, happy hamlet, 
A nioulder'd citadel on the coast, 

Or tower, or high hill-convent, seen 
A light amid its olives green ; 

Or olive-hoary cape in ocean ; 
Or rosy blossom in hot ravine, 

Where oleanders flush'd the bed 
Of silent torrents, gravel-spread : 






i(w TO Tut: r.EV. 

And, cKXBitiE, oft wo saw the (iliitEn 

\V« loTsd llrnl Imll, Uio' white and 

Xlio« iiichod ihapw of noble mould, 
A princely poo|)lB'B swf nl pnuL-w, 
The grave, severe Gonovcsa ol old. 
At Florence too what golden lionra, 
111 tbOM long gallerte", were oiiri ; 



4 



Or pBlaciB, liow tbe oity elitter''!. 
Tliro'^cypi-BBB avenuae. at our feet. 
But wlien wo oroat Uio Lombitrd plain 
Itemenibet what a plague ol rain. 

or rahi at Reiglo, rain at Parma ; 
At Lodl, laln, Piacenu, roln. 
And Item and ead(Hi rare theBmllcs 
0( sunlight) look'd tbe Lombard piles; 

Porch-pillar* on the Hon tflBtiiig, 
Aud Boniura, old, colonnaded aiHlea. 

Milan, the obanting quires. 
TbD ciant window's blslon'd flres, 

I'lie height, the apace. Ihegloutu, Ine 
glory T 
A mount of niaible a hundred spires 1 

1 ollmb'd the roofs at break Dt day ; 
Siin-amiWen Alps before mo lay. 

And ilatued pinnacles, muto aa thej-. 
Kow faSnlj-fluBh'il, bow phantom-fair, 
■Was Monta Boia hanging tli bid 

A IhouBand shado wy-pencllldiallej's 
And »nowy dells In a golUeu air, 
lieioember how wo came at last 
toComo ; abower end storm and blast 

Had blown the lake beyond his limit 
And all was Hooded ; and how wo past 
From Como, when the light was gray. 
And In my head, for halt the day , 

Tba rich Vlrgl Han rustic meaauro 
Of Lari Mamiae, all tho way, 
Like ballad-bunten music, kept. 



Or hardly slept, but watch'd awaka 
A cypress in tho moonlight shalia, 
Tha mooullgbt touching u'ofate 

One lall Agavb above the lake. 

A^d;.pS;'o«lot^.pC^^^ 



And now It lolls of Italy. 

O loTo. we two shall go no long. 
To lands of summer across llie bc 
H"deaTtt1ife your arnw enfold 
Whose rjjliig is ii cry for gold -. 



F. D. MAURICL. 

Tel here to-night In this dark rlli, 
When ill and weary, alone and tolu, 
I found, tho' enish'dtohBcdand dij. 
This nursling of another sky 

Sllll In tbeTlttle book Jon lent mc. 
And wheruyou tenderly laid It by ; 
And I forgot tbe clouded FoUb, 
The_gloom Ibab^ saddens Heaven aiul 

And gray niatropolls of tho North. 
PerchanfiO, to lull tho tbrols of pain, 
Pereliance. to charm a vacant brain, 
Perchanoa, to dream yon still bokle 

My fancy fled lo the Soutti a^ain. 

TO THE EET, F. D. JlIATJEICI!. 
Come, when no graver cares emplor, 

Making tbe UWle one leap forjoy ; 
For, beingof that honest fan-, 
Wlio give the Fiend himself lila due. 
Should elghty-tbousaud colloge couu- 



Thunder " Anal 
Should all our 

if./"!"-. 






lay-beaitU 
(Tak"e'i'tiuidcoina)tQ 
■Where, far from no 

I watdi the twilight falling brown 

All round a careless-order'd garden 
Close to tho ridge of a noble down. 
You'll bare no scandal while yon dine. 
But honest talk and wboleeomo wlnsi 

And only hear the magplo gossip 
GarmlouB under a roof of pino : 
For groves of pine on either hand. 



And tor 



;ofw 



ry'ciiannel 

Ik end sand 



■Where, It helow tho milky steei. 




IN MEJIORIAM. 



107 



How gain In life, as life advances ; 
Talor and cbarity more and more. ■ 

Come, Maurice, come : the lawn as yet 



Is^oar with rime, or spongr-wet ; 

ith of March 



has 



But when the wreat 
blossom *d. 
Crocus, anemone, Tiolet, 

Or later, pay one visit here. 

For those are few we hold as dear ; 

Nor pay but one, but come for many, 
Many and many a happy year. 
Januargf 1864. 



WILL. 
I. 

O WELL for him whose will is strong ! 

He suffers, but he will not suffer long; 

He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong : 

For him nor moves the loud world's 
random mock. 

Nor all Calamity's hugest waves con- 
found. 

Who seems a promontory rock, 

That, compassed round with turbulent 
sound. 

In middle ocean meets the surging 
shock. 

Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd. 

II. 

But ill for him who, bettering not with 
time, 

Corrupts the strength of heaven-de- 
scended Will, 

And ever weaker grows thro' acted 
crime, 

Or seeming-genial venial fault. 

Becnrring and suggesting still t 

He seems as one whose footsteps halt, 

ToUing in immeasurable sand. 

And o^r a weary, sultry land. 

Far beneath a blazing vault, 

Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous 
hill. 

The city sparkles like a grain of salt. 



'•'HE CHAKGE OF THE LIGHT 
BBIGADE. 



Half a league, half a lcague» 
Half a league onward. 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the fix hundred. 
'* Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
Charge for the guns ! " he said : 
Into the valley of Death 

Bode the six hundred. 

II. 

«• Forward, the Light Bripadt I " 
Was there a man dismay 'd 
Ko tho* the soldier knew 

Some one had blunder'd : 
Theirs not to make replv, 
TheiiB not to reason wh^, 



Theirs but to do and die' 
Into the valley of Death 
Bode the six hundired. 

III. 

Cannon to rieht of them. 
Cannon to left of them. 
Cannon in front of them 

Volley'd and thunder'd ; 
Stonn'd at with shot and shelly 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the Jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell 

Kode the six hundred. 

IV. 

Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
Flash'd as they turn'd in air 
Sabring the gunners there. 
Charging an array, while 

All the world wonder'd : 
Plunged in the battery-emoke. 
Bight thro' the line they broke ; 
Cossack and Russian 
Keel'd from the sabre-stroke 

Shatter'd and sunder'd. 
Then they rode back, but not 

Not the six hundred. 

V. 

Cannon *to right of them, 
Cainion to left of them. 
Cannon behind them 

Volley'd and thunderM ; 
Storm'd at with shot and sheU, 
While horse and hero fell. 
They that had fought so well 
Came thro' the jaws of Death 
Back from the mouth of Hellg 
All that was left of tliem, 

Left of six hundred. 

VI. 

When can their glory fade? 
O the wild charge they made I 

All tho world wonder'd. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade, 
Noble six hundred ! 



IN :^iemoria:m. 

SxRoyo Son of God, immortal Love. 

Whom we, that have not seen thy 
face. 

By faith, and faith alone, embrace. 
Believing where we cannot prove ; 

Thine are these orbs of light and shade; 

Thou madest Life in man and brute; 

Thou madest Death; and lo, thy 
foot 
Is on the skull which thou hast mode. 

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust : 
Thou madest man, he knows not 

why ; 
He thinks he was not made to die ; 
And thou host made him: thou art 

just. 
Th^vi seemest human and divlna. 
The highest, holiest TOa\\\iocH\A\vo!^ * 




7iV ifE:^0RIA3T. 



Oar llltle STsMms !>■*« tliclr day ; 

TbBv ace buc bnikeu IlgliU o[ (bee, 
Auil Uiou, O IarI, act mora tbui Itie;. 
We Iiave tint faith : weoannot knuw : 

For knowledge la of things vto Ko ; 

A beam In dHikneei : let 11 gran. 
i*t knowledge grow from moro to 

But more of reverence in u» dwell ; 

'llint niliiil aiul loul, according well, 
May itiftke dub music as lietore. 
But vMter. We are tools Bncl^lteht ; 

We mock thee when we •!□ iwt fear : 

But help tb; fooliBli ones Id bear: 
Help thy vain worldi vo bear thy light. 
FornlTe what aeetn'il my aininme^ 

What aeflia'il my worth oLui/e 1 be- 

For merit IItcb from man to mnn, 
And not from man, O Lonl, lo thee. 
FornivB my Biiaf for one remoTcd, 

Thy crestute. whom I found bo fair. 

I truit lis Uvea In Uiee, and lliere 
1 And him worthier to be loved. 
F□rgl^■e Iheaa wild and wandering 

Foiglvo tbem where ibey f^ill In 
ADd lu tby witdom make me wIbb. 






I BBLtj It Imth. with him who Blum 
To ona clear harp In dlveiB Innca, 
That meu may rleo an eteppiag- 

Of t£elr dead lelres to higher things. 
But who Bliall so f ore<-»«t the yeitr* 

Or reach n band tbro' tlmo to catch 
UK larHJiIinteitiMottears? 
T4t Lore clasp Orlef IciC both be 
drown'd. 
Let darkiieBii keep her Tavcii bIom : 
Ah. Bweeterto be drunk with loas. 
To dance with deatb, to beat tbe 






t the tIcIot Hours should 



.-^ 



• Behold Ibo man that loved and 

lOBf. 

But all he was Is overworn." 



pldTbw, wWcbgraapcBtat thcBlonet 

'i-hat name the under-lying dead. 

Thy flbreh net the dreamlEsD bead, 



'rapt al 



me nrsiiitig to the Horii 

n ..u 111 mu dUBk of ihco, the clOck 

BealB out the little lives of men. 

O not for thee the glow, the bloom 
Who changeet not in any gnle, 
hor btandmg BuuimerBuus avail 

To touch thy thousand years of gtoon 

And garing on thee, aullau tree, 
Sick for tliy stubborn hardihood, 
I seem to fail from out my blood 

And grow Incorporate luto Uies. 



OSoBt 



8l tellowBhlp, 



b Prieatcsain'thB vaults oi Deitk, 
What whispers from tby lying Up 
"The stars," elie whlBpors, "bll; 

A web is wov'n atroiB the sky i 
And mm'murs from the dying aiiu 
"And all the phantom, Kalnit 

With all the mnBlo in her tous. 
A hollow echo of my own,— 
A hollow fonn with empty handa.^ 
And Bhall I Uk( 



Upon the 



bUnd. 

Df blood,' 



ro Sleep I give my power* «w«y 
My will Is bondsman lo the du 
lalt wttMnahelmlfwbnrk, 
And with my heart 1 muse ■iid n 
3 heart, how tares It with Ihea imw. 
That thou ahouldet fail from tby d*> 

ely darest to ln,f]utte. 



' Wbat la 






Blow* 






ibliie Baily 
Break, thou deep Taae of chlllbif 

t grief bath Bboken Into ftoBt 

I cloutla of nameless trouble ■ 

1 night below tlie darkeii'd eyai ; 
ill! niondng wakes Iba will, Bud 

LOU siiolt not be the fool of 



K, like Xatnrfl. haJf rereal 






IN MEMORIAM. 



109 



'wandcrinjr 



I 



But, for tho unquiet heart find brain, 
A use in measured language lies ; 
The sad mechanic exercise,* 

like dull uarcoUcSi numbing pain. 

In words, like weeds, 1*11 wrap me 
o'er, 
Like coarsest clothes against the 

cold; 
But that large grief which these en- 
fold 
Is given in outline and no more. 

TI. 

OxR writes, that ** Other friends re- 
main," 
That *• IjOss is common to the race,"— 
And common is the commonplace, 

And vacant chaft well meant for grain. 

That loss is common would not make 
BIy own less bitter, rather more : 
Too common ! Never morning wore 

To eyenlng, but some heart did break. 

O father, wheresoe*er thou be. 
Who pledgest now thy gallant ton ; 
A shot, ere half thy draught be done. 

Hath sUll*d the life that beat from 
thee« 

O mother, praying God will save 
Thy sailor, — while thy head I3 

bow'd. 
His heavy-shotted hammock-shrond. 
Drops in his vast aiul 
grave. 

To know no more than I who wronrfit 
At that last hour to please liini well ; 
WHio mused on all I had to tell, 

And somethhig written, something 
thought ; 

Expecting still his advent homo ; 
Au<l ever met him on his way 
With wishes, thinking, here to-day, 

Or here to-morrow will he come. 

O wmewhere, meek unconscious dove, 
That sittest ranging golden hair ; 
And glad to lind thyself so fair. 

Poor child, that waitest for thy love ! 

For now her father's chimney glows 

In expectation of a cucst ; 

And thinking ** this will plcaso liim 
best." 
She takes a riband or a roso ; 

For ho will see thom on to-night ; 

Autl with the thought her color 
burns ; 

And, having lef i the glass, pho tunis 
Once more to set a ringlet ri^ht ; 

And, oven when she tnm'd, the curse 
Had fallen, and her future I^rd 
Was drowu*d in passhig thro' the 
ford. 

Or kill'd in falling from his horse. 

O what to her shall be the end ? 

And what to me remains of good ? 

To her, perpetual maidenhood, 
And unto mo no second friend. 



TIT. 



Dark hotuie, by which once more I 
stand 
Here in the long nnlovely street. 
Doors, where my heart was used to 
beat 
So quickly, waiting for a hand, 

A hand that can be claspM no more,— 
Behold me, for 1 cannot sleep. 
And like a guilty thing I creep 

At earliest morning to the door. 

He is not here ; but far away 
The noise of life becins again. 
And ghastly thro* the drizzling rain 

On the bald street breaks tho blank 
day. 

VIII. 

A HAPPY lover who lins come 
To look on her that loves him well. 
Who 'lights and rings the gateway 
bell. 
And learns her gone and far from 
home ; 

He saddens, all tho magic light 
Dies off at once from bower and hall. 
And all the place is dark, and all 

The chambers emptied of delight : 

Go find I every pleasant spot 
In which we two were wont to meet* 
The field, the chamber, and the 
street. 

For all is dark where thou art not. 

Yet as that other, wandering there 
In those deserted walks, may find 
A fiower beat with rain and wind. 

Which once she foster'd up with care { 

£0 seems it in my deep regret. 

my forsaken heart, with thco 
And this poor flower of poesy 

Which little cared for fades not yet. 

But since it pleased a vanish'd eye, 

1 CO to plant it on his tomb. 
That if it can it tliere may b1oom» 

Or dying, there at least may die. 

IX. 

Fair ship, that from the Italian shore 
Sailcst the ])lacid ocean-plains 
With my lost Arthur's loved remains, 

Spread thy full wings, and waft him 
o'er. 

Co draw him home to those that mouni 
In vain ; a favorable speed 
Kuftio thy rairror'd mast, and lead 

Tliro' prosperous Hoods his holy urn. 

All night no ruder air perplex 
Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, 

bright 
As our pure love, thro* early light 

Shall glimmer on the dewy decks. 

Sphere all your lights around, above ; 
Sleep, gentle heavens^ before th3 

prow; 
Sleep, gentle winds, AS he sleeps 
now, 
Sfy friend) tho btotJict ol tkj \o^t ; 



'i 



V 



7iV SIEMORIAJI. 

..^ m I rtiKl! not iea 

Irm all inv nHaoWil raw bo run 

Dear »■ ihe mother tn iliti noii. 
More Uuui my brotlieii ate in me. 



MyJu 

Till 



le About Iby keol 



night 1 



Ai«l lotlera unto trembllnc band* : 
nil. Uiy dark freigbt, ft Taiilih'rt life. 
1 bring blm ■. we hiiTa idlo ilroaiim i 
TblB look of quiet rtttHani Uiub 
UuT beme-biea fancier : O 10 ui. 
TI.B looli o£ habit, «wBat8r ■euma 
To rest benesih the f loror ewl, 
Tbat lakes the Biuiahiue and Uii 

Or Hbera IheVneiUngfaanilet draliu 
The chalice of the grapes ot Uod ; 
l-han ir itltii Ibee llie roaring wcn» 
"'lOuUl eolf him (alboiuHleep li 
tiiine; 
111 bands Bo oflen pioap'il in mine. 






oimil, 






pattering tb the grouiiil 
aim and deep pear 
ivolil. 

AiiofrthfldUeryi 






nnyousrenlpln 
I nil lia autuu 

rowded (arms and IcMcnli 
To mlugls with the bounding main : 
Calm Rnd deep peace In this wide n1i 
These leaves that redden to tlis iai 
And m mj heart, If calm 1 
It any ™im, d culm dEapulr 
Calm on the seas, and illTCi 
Aiid waves that *<ra; the 

And dead cBlin In tbt 



falll 



with Um hea 



IiO, BsadoTO wlien np shoKprlnBS 
To bear thco" Heaven n tale of woe 
Some dolorous inessai^ knit liclorr 



rotsouibetnsblo*, 



And reach the gl 
Anil linger woepiiig on the mni^o, ' 
Aiid saying: "Comes be thos, n 
trloniir 
Tsthtatbe end of all my care?" 
And circle moaiUnE in ihe *lt: 
■ Is tills Ihe end? Is ihuUiesiid?' 
And forwurd dart again , and play 
About the prow, ami back retuni 
To where the body alts, and leant, 
TbaC 1 have been an iionr away. 

Tearh ot the widower, n-hen he »ea 

Kl liiDvea hlB donbtful^arnu. aii 

■eela 

place it empty, fall liko these ; 



\ 



.Toidw 



re hen 



a bauds have pnwt 
Slleiice, till i be lUent loo. 
Which weep the comradeof my elioto*. 
■ '- 'bDught, a llfo remove." 



.and teach IBB. many yearn. J 



high 



bout tile aiiprouhliig ■ 
rought but merchanCi 
den that they brtug. 



AndsUndlng. 

Should lee thy i« . .„ , 

Come etepplng lightly down Iha ] 

And beckonlns unto those (heykna 

Audit along with tJiemslionld MB 
The man f held as balf-dlylne ; _ 

SbDnldiitrlkeasudden handiiimltUh I 

And nsk a ihouaand things ot hoiue ; 

And I Bhould tell him all my pWn, 
And bo w my lifa had droop'd u( !«(•, 
AndhDBlioiildsnm.wo'ermyslals . 

And marvel w hat possess'd my br^n; 

And I petcelTBd nc 
No hint oft' ■ 



: of death In all hi 



I leave tiS* mortal orK beblud. 



-/ 



IN MEMORIAM. 



Ill 



*nio last red Icftf is wlilrl'd awajr, 
The I'ooks are blown about the skies ; 

Tlie forest crack'd, the waters curl'd, 
The cattle huddled on the lea ; 
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree 

The sunbeam strikes along the world : 

And but for fancies, which arer 
That all thy motions gently pass 
Althwart a plane of molten glass, 

J scarce could brook the strain and 
stir 

Tliat makes the barren branches loud ; 
And but for fear it is not so. 
The wild unrest that lives in woe 

"Would dote and pore on yonder cloud 

That rises upward always higher, 
And onward drags a laboring breast, 
And topples round the dreaiy west, 

A looming bastion fringed with Hre. 

XVI. 

What words are these have falPn 
from me ? 
Can calm despair and wild unrest 
Be tenants of a single breast. 

Or sorrow such a changeling be ? 

Or doth she only seem to take 
The touch of change in calm or 

storm; 
But knows no more of transient form 

In her deep self, tlian some dead lake 

That holds the shadow of a lark 
Hung in the shadow of a heaven ? 
Or has the shock, so harshly given. 

Confused me like the unhappy bark 

That strikes by night a craggy shelf. 
And staggers blimlly ere she sink ? 
And stunn'd me from luy power to 
think 

And all my knowledge of myself ; 

And made me that delirious man 
Whose fancy fuses old and new. 
And flashes into false and true, 
And mingles all without a plan ? 

XVII. 

Thou comest, much wept for : such a 
breeze 
Compell'd thy canvas, and my 

I)rayer 
was as the whisper of an air 
To breathe thee over lonely seas. 

For I in spirit saw thee move 
Thro* circles of the bounding sky. 
Week after week : the days go by : 

Come quick, thou bringest all 1 lovo. 

Henceforth, wherever thou may'st 
roam. 
My blessing, like a line of light, 
Is on the waters day and nignt. 

And like a beacon guards thee home. 

So may whatever tempest mars 
Mid ocean, spare thee, sacred bark ; 
And balmv drops in summer dark 

Slide from tne bosom of the stars. 

So kind an ofllce hath been done, 
Sudi precious relics brought by thee; 



The dust of him I shall not see 
Till all my widow'd race be run. 

XVIII. 

'Tis well ; 'tis something ; we may 
stand 
Where he in English earth is laid, 
And from his ashes may be made 

The violet of his native land. 

*Tis little ; but it looks in truth 
As if the quiet bones were blest 
Among familiar names to rest 

And in the places of his youth. 

Come then, pure hands, and bear the 
head 
That sleeps or wears the mask of 

sleep. 
And come, whatever loves to weep, 
And hear the ritual of the dead. 

Ah yet. ev'n yet, if this might be, 
I, falling on his faithful heart. 
Would breathing thro' his lips im- 
part 

The life that almost dies in me ; 

That dies not, but endures with pain. 
And slowly forms the tirnier mind. 
Treasuring the look it cannot find, 

The words that are not heard again. 

xrx. 

The Danube to the Severn gave 
The darkeu'd heart that beat no 

more ; 
They laid him by the pleasant shore. 

And in the hearing of the wave. 

There twice a day the Severn fills ; 
The salt sea- water passeK by. 
And hushes half the babbling Wye, 

And makes a silence in the hills. 

The Wye is hush'd nor moved alonjj 
And hushM my deepest grief of all. 
When fiird with tears that cannot 
fall, 

T brim with sorrow drowning song. 

Tlie tide flows «lown. the wave again 
Js vocal in its wooded walls ; 
My deeper anguish also falls. 

And 1 can speak a little then. 

XX. 

The lesser griefs that may be said, 
Thatr breathe a thousand tender 

vows. 
And but as servants in a house 

Where lies the master newly dead ; 

Who speak their feeling as it is. 
And weep the fulness from the mind: 
*' It will be hard," they say, '* toUnd 

Another service such as thLi." 

My lighter moods are like to these. 
That out of words a comfort win ; 
But there are other griefs within, 

And tears that at their fountain freeze^* 

For by the hearth the children Sit 
Cold iu that atmosphere of I>eafh| 



r 



Or Ilka ID uolseloet plinntomB flit: 

Bnt open coiiTeiiK !■ there none. 

Bo ini]i:h tlie vital Bjitrlu tliilc 

To »e the vacant chair. a»'\ tli 

"How good! liovr kluil ! and I 

I ana to lilm llmt reits below. 



And Bometlnms banhl; wLU liu 
■< Tbis fsllow iTQuld mako veoIuieH 



Another aoBwam "Let Mm lip, 
Ha lovei to make pnraile o{ ginln. 
That with hla piping ho insy (lain 

— BO that comM lo " " 



IX MEMoniAM. 

Aii>l think, Umb M 
lis Sbndovi Bits and 




I 



And wo wlUi singing cheerM 

ilk'd began 



And bore thee nliero 1 1 



Kor follow, Iho' I 



Tlietjhadow oloiik'd Irom head to toot 

\i\xo keeps the ken of (til tlie creisli 
I wander, often lallinK lame, 
And looking back to whence I mm. 

Or on to wuere the pntliviay leuU ; 

And crying. How change J Croni whsre 
Xliro' lands where not 11 lanl nu 

Due all thii laTlah hills woa 
llie monnur of a liappy Pan : 
When each by tuniB was guidoloeaeh. 
And FaucyllBht from Fancy caugbt. 
And ITionght '— • — • ' -'■'■ 

. ought coQld wed Ituelt with 

1 BllwemetwaB fair and traod, 
L nit wOB good that Time vDi 

[_all !ha Becrct of the Spring 



hebloodi 



IB Iho day of ray delight 



irth bftd been the randlia 
■a Adam leEt hli Eiu^n yab 
id U it that tho haze of grief 



A irlory from Its belns 1 



irthBittblBWi 



t, the (rank 



Tho 'rJsTly tiaideii"f or the Lack' 
~ at this It yim that made me mo' 

As light as carrler-hitds In air i 

1 loved the weight I bad fa beai 

ccsuse It ueodcd help 

or oouM I weaij. lieai 

Wbcn inigbty Love w 



wlinib. 



IN M£MORIAM. 



113 



I 



Tlie lading of a singlo pain, 
And piut it, giving lialf to him. 

XXVI. 

Still onwards winds the dreary way ; 
I with it ; for I long to prove 
Ko lapse of moons can canker Love, 

Whatever fickle tongues may say. 

And if that eye which watches guilt 
And »9odness, and had power to see 
Within the green the moulder'd tree, 

And towers fall'u as soon as built— 

Cf , if indeed tliat eye foresee 
Or see (in Him is no before) 
In more of life true life no more 

And Love the indifference to be. 

Then might I find, ere yet the mom 
Breaks hither over Indian seas, 
That Shadow waiting with the keys, 

To shroud me from my proper scorn. 

xxvii. 

I RNVT not in any moods 
The captive void of noble rage, 
The linnet born within the cage, 

That never knew the summer woods: 

1 envy not the beast that takes 
Uis license in the field of time. 
Unfettered by the sense of crime^ 

To whom a conscience never wakes ; 

Kor, what may count itself as blest, 
The heart that never plighted troth. 
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth ; 

Kor any want-begotten rest. 

1 hold it true, whate'er befall ; 

I feel it, when I sorrow most ; 

'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Thau never to have loved at all. 

XXVIII. 

Ths time draws near the birth of 
Christ: 

The moon is hid ; the night is still ; 

The Christmas bells from hill to hill 
Answer each other in the mist. 

Four voices of four hamlets round, 
From far and near, ou mead and 

moor, 
Swell out and fail, as if a door 

Were shut between me and the sound : 

Each voice four changes on the wind. 
That now dilate, and now decrease. 
Peace and goodwill, goodwill and 
peace. 

Peace and goodwill, to all mankind. 

This 3rear I slept and woke with pain, 
I almost wished no more to wake. 
And that my hold on life would break 

Before I heard those bells again : 

But they my troubled spirit inilc. 
For they controll'd me when a boy ; 
They bxing me sorrow touch'd with 

. Joy. 
The meny merry bells of Yule. 

XXIX. 

With ioch compelling cause to grieve 
Aa daily vexes household peace, 



And chains regret to his decease. 
How dare we keep our Christmas-eve ; 

Wliich brings no more a welcome guest 
To eiurich the tliresliold of the night 
With shower'd largess of delight. 

In dance and song and game and jest. 

Yet go, and while the holly boughs 
Kntwine the cold baptismal font. 
Make one wreath mora for Use and 
Wont. 

That guard the portals of the house ; 

Old sisters of a day gone by, 
Gray nuraes, loving notlung new ; 
Why should they miss their early due 

Before their time? They too will die. 

XXX. 

With trembling fineers did we weave 
The holly lound the Christmas 

hearth ; 
A rainy cloud possessed the earth. 

And sadly fell our Christmas-eve. 

At our old pastimes in the hall 
We eambol'd, making vain pretence 
Of gladness, with an awful sense 

Of one mute shadow watching all. 

We paused, the winds were in the 
beech : 
We heard them sweep the winter 

land ; 
And in a circle hand-in-hand 
Sat silent, looking each at each. 

Tlien echo-like our voices rang ; 
We sung, tlio* every eye was dim, 
A merry song we sang with him 

Last year : impetuously we sang : 

We ceased : a gentler feeling crept 
Upon us : surely rest is meet : 
" They rest," we said, '• their sleep Is 
sweet," 

And silence follow*d, and we wept. 

Our voices took a higher range ; 
Once more we sang : ** They do not 

die 
Nor lose their mortal sympathy, 
Kor change to us, although they 
change ; 

Bapt from the fickle and the frail 
with gather'd. power, yet tlie same. 
Pierces the keen seraphic fiame 

From orb to orb, from veil to veil." 

Rise, happy mom, rise, holy mom. 
Draw forth the cheei-f ul day from 

night: 
O Father, touch the east, and light 
The light that shone when Hope was 
bora. 

XXXI. 

When Lazaums left his chamel-cave, 
And home to Mary's house retum'd, 
Was this demanded— if he yearn'd 

To hear her weeping by his grave? 

" Where wert thou, brother, those fouf 
days?" 
There lives no record of reply. 



v 



IN MEMORIAM, 



m 



Qo down beside thy natire rill, 
On thy Parnassus set thy feet, 
And hear thy laurel whisper sweet 

About the ledges of the hill." 

And my Meh>omene replies, 
A touch orshame upon her cheek ; 
'* I ain not worthy ev'n to speak 

Of thy prevailing mysteries ; 

For I am but an earthly Muse, 
And owning but a little art 
To lull with song an aching heart. 

And render human love his dues ; 

But brooding on the dear one dead, 
And all he said of things divine, 
(And dear to me as sacred wine, 

To dying lips is all he said), 

1 murmur'd, as I came alonc^, 
Of comfort clasp'd in trutn reveal'd ; 
Anil loiter'd in the master's tield. 

And darkened sanctities with song. ' 

ZXXYIII. 

With weary steps I loiter on. 
Tbo* always under alter'd skies 
The purple from the distance dies, 

My prospect and horizon gone. 

Ko joy the blowing season gives, 
The herald melodies of spring. 
But in the songs I love to sing 

A doubtful gleam of solace lives. 

If any care for what is here 
Survive in spirits render'd free. 
Then are these songs 1 sing of thee 

Kot all ungrateful to thine ear. 

XXXIX. 

Olt> warder of these buried bones, 
Ana answering now my random 

stroke 
"With fruitful cloud and living 
smoke. 
Dark yew, that graspest at the stones 

And dippest toward the dreamless 
head, 
To thee too comes the golden hour 
When flower is feeling after flower ; 

But Sorrow flxt U{K>n the dead, 

And darkening the dark graves of 
men, 

Wliat whisper'd from her lying lips ? 

Thy gloom is kindled at the tips, 
And passes into gloom again. 

XL. 

CuuLD we forget the widowM hour 
And look on Spirits breathed away, 
As on a maiden in the day 

T/nen first she wears her orange- 
flower ! 

When crown'd with blessing she doth 
rise 
To take her latest leave of home, 
And hopes and light regrets that 
come 
ifake April of her tender eyes ; 

And doubtful joys the father move. 
And tears are on the mother's face. 



As parting with a long embrace 
She enters other realms of love ; 

Her office there to rear, to teach, 
Becoming as is meet and flt 
A link among the days, to knit 

The generations each with each ; 

And doubtless, unto thee is given 
A life that beats immortal fruit 
In such great ottices as suit 

The full-grown energies of Leaven. 

Ay me, the difference I discern ! 
iiow often shall her old flreside 
Be cheer'd with tidings of the bride, 

How often she hei-self return. 

And tell them all they would have 
told, 
And bring her babe, and make her 

boast, 
Till even those that miss'd her most. 
Shall count new things as dear as old : 

But thou and I have shaken hands. 
Till growing winters lay me low ; 
My paths are in the flel'ds I know. 

And thine in uudiscover'd lauds. 

XLI. 

Thy spirit ere our fatal Iobs 
Did ever rise from high to higher ; 
As mounts the heavenward altar 
fire, 

As flies the lighter thro* the gross. 

But thou art turn'd to something 
strange. 
And I have lo<^t the links that bound 
Thy changes, here upon the ground, 

No more partalcer of thy change. 

Deep folly ! yet that this could be — 
That I could wing my will with 

might 
To leap the grades of life and light. 

And flash ut once, my friend, to thee : 

For tho* my nature rarely yields 
To that vague fear implied in death; 
Nor shudders at the gulfs beneath, 

The bowlings from forgotten flelds ; 

Yet oft when sundown skirts the moor 
An inner trouble 1 behold, 
A spectral doubt which makes me 
cold. 

That I shall be thy mate no more, 

Tho* following with an upward mind 
The wonders that have come to thee, 
Thro' all the secular lo-be, 

But evermore a life behind. 

XLII 

I TEX my heart with fancies dim : 
Ho still outstript me in the race ; 
It was but unity of place 

That made me dream 1 rauk'd with 
him. 

And so may Place retain us still. 
And he the nmch-belove<l again, 
A lonl of large experience, train 

To riper growth tlic mind and will ; 



^ff* 



im'^ troiu c 



IN ME2I0RIAM. 

It Bliudou'll llT UlO 

Lett life Bboiail tall 



\T Slaep ana Dealli bs truly ono, 
* ^d QfBTT BpirU'a folded bloom 
iro' all ItBlnlBttiWl gloom 



» 



A» when be lovHd i 

AiiilM Uiespirillil 

Bevalieu wltli Uie Ai 

Bowfarealt with tt 



vbencet 

A lltUe aaih, a mystic hint : 

And In IbB long iarmorloua years 
(1[ Dentil BO tMta Letlioaii Bpriiigs) 
Mayaoinedlio touch oleartlilyHiliiE 

Surpriie tlie raiiglUE with tliy peeri. 

II Bnoh a draamy touch nhoulil fall. 



il high plac 



id tulUheoolt. 



The taby nt 

WhatlJine 

ABaliiBtth 

Hbi uerer Ihougbt Uiat >' \ 
I IlDt u ba gmwB hs gatben 

AiiilleaniBl'- '"' 



the f TOme that blndB 




WbicholBewurefrultleBBoftbelcdua, 
, Had man to learn btmBolt a new 
Befuud the aecoud lilttb of Death 



nal lanilBcape of the past ; 
IK tract ol time rereal'd ; 



>t Held, 
•r Btrelchlng liu- ; 



Ato'uii^i5' 

Ixiok alBO, Loi-e, a brooding 
A rOBf warmth Irom tatxie to niacga. 

That each, who saems a aepanH 

Should iaore hla rounds, and fiulti| 

The sklita ol BelCagaln, ehould fall 

TUmeralng in the general Soul, 

Id faltb aB lagua as al! uiuweet : 

Eternal form shall »llll dirlda 

Tlie oMrna) auul from all baldi 

And I Bball know Mia wbeu vrs n 

And we Rball dt at ondleaa feait 

Enjoying each (ba otber'a good 

Of LoTo on eactb ? He leaka at leaat 
Upon the lait and ibirpeBl height, 
fifltore Ibo aplrlla fatTe away, 

•'FuewelllWeloBeoiueelvesiullght?' 
If theae brief lays, of Sairow bonii 



liid bence, iudoed, abe spovls will 
But belter aaryeB awboleaoroo Ian, 



Sbnrt awallow-Olghta uf aoiig 
TLdr wings in tears, and akim away. 



Like light in many a ■IdToc'd ] 

Tliul breaka about the dappled peals: 
IIielighteBtwaTeof thoURhtaballllipi I 

'I'liu lancy'a taudereiC eddy wreath^ J 



IN MEMOMAM. 



117 



Thib dlghtett air of song shall breathe 
To make the sulleu surface crisp. 

And look thy look, and go thy way, 
But blame not thou the winds that 

make 
The seemlng-waiitou ripple break, 

The teuder-peucil'd shadow play. 

Beneath all fancied hopes and fears 
Ay me, the sorrow deepens down, 
Whose muffled motions blindly drown 

The baties of my life in tears. 



L. 



the 



Be near mo when my light is low, 
When the blood creeps, and 

nerves prick 
And tingle ; and the heart is sick, 

And all the wheeU of Being slow. 

Be near me when the sensuous frame 
Is rack'd with pangs that conquer 

trust; 
And Time, a maniac scattering dust, 

And Life, a Fury slinging Hame. 

Be near me when my faith Is dry. 
And men the flies of latter spring. 
That lay their eggs, and stiug and 
sing. 

And weave their petty cells and die. 

Be near me when I fade away, 
To point the term of human strife, 
And on the low dark verge of life 

The twilight of eternal day. 

LI. 

Do we Indeed desire the dead 
Should still be near us at our side ? 
Is there no baseness we would hide ? 

No inner vileness that we dread? 

Shall he for whose applause I strove, 
I had such reverence for his blame. 
See with clear eye some hidden shame 

And I be lessen'd in his love ? 

I wronff the grave with fears untrue : 
Shall love be blamed for want of 

faith? 
There must be wisdom with groat 
Death: 
The dead shall look me thro* and thro.* 

Be near us when we climb or fall : 
Ye watch, like God, the rolling hours 
With larger other eyes than ours, 

To make allowance for us all. 

LII. 

I CAXXOT love thee as I ought. 

For love reflects the things beloved ; 

My words are ouly words, and moved 
Upon the topmost froth of thought. 

*Yet blame not thou thy plaintive 
song,*' 
The spirit of true love replied ; 
**11iou canst not move me from thy 
side. 
Nor human frailty do me wrong. 

V What keeps a spirit wholly true j 

To that ideal which he bears ? 1 



What record ? not the sinless years 
That breathes beneath the Syrian blue: 

«< So fret not, like an idle girl. 
That life is dash*d with flecks of ein. 
Abide : thy wealth is gather'd in. 

When Time hath suuder'd shell trom 
pearl." 

Lni. 

How many a father have I seen, 
A sober man, among his boys. 
Whose youth was full of foolish noise. 

Who weai-s his manhood hale and gieen t 

And dare we to this fancy give. 
That had the wild oat not been sown. 
The soil, left barren, scarce had 
grown 

The grain by which a man may live? 

Oh. if we held the doctrine sound 
For life outliving heats of youth. 
Yet who would preach it as a truth 

To those that eddy i-ound and round '/ 

Hold thou thy good : deflne it well : 

For fear divine Philosophy 

Should push beyond her mark, and 
be 
Procuress to the Lords of Hell. 

LIV. 

Oh vet we trust that somehow good 
Will be the flnal goal of ill, 
To pangs of nature, sins of will. 

Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; 

That nothing walks with aimless feet ; 
That no one life shall be destroy'd, 
Or cost as rubbish to the void. 

When God hath made the pile com- 
plete; 

That not a worm is cloven in vain ; 
That not a moth with vain desire 
Is shriverd in a fruitless tiro. 

Or but subserves another's gain. 

Behold, we know not anything ; 
I can but trust that good shall fall 
At last— far off— at last, to all. 

And every winter ehange to spring. 

So runs my dream : but what am I ? 
An infant crying in the night : 
An infant crying for the light : 

And with no language but a cry. 

LV. 

The wish, that of the living whole 
No life may fail beyond the crave. 
Derives it not from what we nave 

The likest God within the soul? 

Are God and Nature then at strife. 
That Nature lends such evil dreams ? 
So careful of the type she seems. 

So careless of the single life ; 

That I, considering everywhere 
Her secret meaning in her deeds. 
And finding that of fifty seeds 

She often brings but one to bear, 

I falter where I firmly trod. 
And falling with my weight of caroa 



I^^MH* 



/.V MEMOni.lM. 



Upon Uio m»t wtrlil'* alMr-FUlr> 
Tli« ilope lEi-o' Uiirkuaia up lo Gqil, 
I Etretch luss liaDila of (olUi. auil 

Ami oBlber 'Hull and chB<T. and l^all 
Ta wEnt 1 fwL is Loi>t of nil. 
Auil faintly trust ilie lai£cr liupe, 

'■ SO ureTnl of the type ? " but no. 
Fmm »<:ari>(Hl clia aiul quonied 

I aire fur notblQE, all iliall go. 

"Thon malieatlhino appeal to ma i 
1 Ixinv lo life. I bring to ilesUi : 
Tlie B|ilrit ilD«B but nieRii ibo brsKtli : 

Iknowiiomoro." AU<1 he, ■lialllie, 

Mul, lier lut work, wbo aeem'd ao 



Or Kal'il wiiUu tliu IruiiliUlH ? 
Komore? A monater then, adreain, 

A discord. DrBEQiiB of tlio prime. 

TliBl loflr earli olhBr in iLeir Blima. 
'Wei'O uelluw miiaic mutdi'd wIUi liini. 
O life ai Id tlie. tben. sa [mill 

O tor tliy voi™ to boi.lIiu uiut bless ! 

ViiBtlmpootaniwer. ni 




BebludtlJ 



1, beliliiil 



itiil. 



Aug so nllLUf : let la eo, 
CDme let m e° ' tout i^licelci' nn pule 

UatMuka iiiy Irleuil Is ricLly Ebrlti 
BDtl sbBlI pau, my work will tnil. 
Yet in U>«e ears, till liearliig dies. 

one set Blow ball »ltl Beeiii U> fill 

Tliat'^e?^loolc"d wUhTium"! "m. 

1 lienr It now. ami u'or atnl o'er, 

Elernel grastlngs lo tli^o deiul, 

" Adieu, adtBu," for DTemioio! 



Ih tliose (ad words I took fi 



vbII : 



As drop by drop Ilia walar talli 
In vaulta uid catofouklH, tJjey leU ; 
;. Idly broke the peace 

- .mdaylodtv 



Idly broke 



r_. tUyharBbac niouda aside, 

II tliDu win IisTD mo wlso uud good. 
Aly centred pa»lon cannot move, 

Kor will It tesBen (roni In-day ; 

But I'll baTe leave at LimoHto pU) 



Could liudly lell wliac iianiu 
IhiiiB. 

lily iiplrit luvad and loves him'yefc 
LiKu iome iioor elrl wbuae Ueait IM 



bewIr^Blh?! 



la that dark bouse where a 

TliB foolish nalehbora eonie anu ,.. 
And tefwebei till the day diitsra by : 
At nlgki alie weeps, " How v' 

Itow should be love a thing so hjwf" 

If. In thy second state sublime, 
Thy nuisom'd rM»ou ehause repllWH 
With nil tlie clrolo ol the vHie, " 

The pciteet Uower of human lime; 

•il and allellt, 
lli of eoMai 



How Jluil 
Ilnw dwai 

Plglit, 
low blnnel 



It Eoi'iu was made a 



I loved ihee, Spirit 
can 
The soul of Shakespeare 
more. 

LXII. 



IN MEMOniAM. 
and love, nor 

loTO thee 



Tho* if an eye that's downward cast 
Could make thee somewhat blench 

or fail, 
Then be my love an idle tale, 

And fading legend of the past ; 

And thou, as one that once declined, 
When he was little more than boy, 
On some unworthy heart with joy, 

But lives to wed an equal mind ; 

And breathes a. novel world, the while 
His other passion wholly dies, 
Or in the light of deeper eyes 

l8 matter for a Hying smile. 

LXIII. 

Yet pity for a horse o*er-driven, . 

And love in which my hound has 
part, 

Can hang no weight upon my heart 
In its assumptions up to heaven ; 

And I am so much more than these, 
As thou, perchance art more than I, 
And yet I spare them svmpathy 

And I would set their pains at ease. 

So may*8t thou watch me where I 
weep, 

As, unto vaster motions bound. 

The circuits of thine orbit round 
A higher height, a deeper deep. 



LXIV. 

look back 



on what hath 



Dost thou 
been. 

As some divinely gifted man, 
Whose life in low estate began 

And on a simple village green ; 

Who breaks his birth*a invidious bar. 
And grasps the skirts of happy 

chance. 
And breasts the blows of circum- 
stance. 
And grapples with his evil star ; 

Who makes by force his merit known 
And lives to clutch the golden keys. 
To mould a michty state's decrees. 

And shape the whisper of Uie throne ; 

And moving up from high to higher, 
Becomes on Fortune's crowning 

slope 
The pillar of a people's hope, 

The centre of a world's desire ; 

Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, 
When all his actite powers are still, 
A distant dearness in the hill, 

A secret sweetness in the stream, 

The limit of his narrower fate. 
While yet beside its vocal springs 
He play'd at counsellors and kings. 

With one that was his earliest mate ; 

Who plougna with pain liin native lea 
Ana rea|i0 the 1at)or of his liHiuis, 



119 

Or in the furrow musing stands : 
" Does my old friend remember me ? " 



LXV. 

Sweet soul, do with me as thou wilt •, 

I lull a fancy trouble-tost 

With *• Love's too precious to be 
lost, 
A little grain shall not be spilt." 

And in that solace can I sing, 
Till out of painful phases wrought 
There flutters up a nappy thought. 

Self-balanced on a lightsome wing : 

Since we deserved the name of friends, 
And thine effect so lives in me, 
A part of mine may live in thee 

And move thee on to noble ends. 



Lxvr. 
my heart too 



far dis- 



Yor thought 
eased : 

You wonder when my fancies play 
To find me gay among the gay, 

Like one with any trifle pleased. 

The shade by which my life was crost 
Which makes a desert in the mind. 
Has made me kindly with my kind, 

And like to him whose sight is lost ; 

Whose feet are guided thro' the land. 
Whose jest among his friends is free 
Who takes the children on his kn«e. 

And winds their curls about his hand: 

He plays with threads, he beats his 
chair 

For pastime, dreaming of the sky ; 

His inner day can never die. 
His night of loss is always there. 

LXVII. 

Whex on my bed the moonlight falls, 
I know that in thy place of rest. 
By that broad water of the west. 

There comes a glory on the walls : 

Thy marble bright in dark appears, 
As slowly steals a silver flame 
Along the lettei-s of thy name, 

And o'er the number of thy years. 

The mystic glory swims away : 
From oflE my bed the moonlight dies ; 
And closing eaves of wearied eyes 

I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray : 

And then I know the mist is drawn 
A lucid veil from coast to coast. 
And in the <lark church like a ghost 

Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn. 

Lxviir. 

Wren in the down T sink my head, 
Sleep, Death's twin-brother, times 

my breath ; 
Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows 
not Death, 
Nor can I dream of thee as dead : 

I walk as ere I walk'd forlorn. 
When all our path was fresh with 
dew, 




ri 



And an Uio bualo broeifl* blew 

Serellluc to Uie [jrijaJcliig moru. 

Bat wluit is tliii ? Iturniboat, 

1 and a imuula in tliliie bjb, 

WblL'li lua.un luu sail 1 know uat 

JTiiT GUI my dreau) leiolve Uio iloubC ' 
Butere the iHrk hathlett Ibe leu 

Tbal i ooli^ ajei^p traiLsIerd to tliQo. 

I UBF.AU'D UierB would bo Spiins no 

Tlist Nfttura'a anciuiil poiror woi 

lost: 
rbsiticeta were blactt ivli^ smoke 
and troat. 
Thay iJiattei'il triQcs at tlic door 
I wandor'd (torn Ibo 110I117 lown, 
] foinidawooil wltli tliurny buughs : 



bain: 

ThBJ raird mo In tbo pnblla ngnnrea 

Tha (ool Ibat wean a trown of tlmrna; 

TboT eall-d ma tool, t'jey call'd mo 

cbild : 

I found Bii angel of Oia nigbt 

The Toita wr ■ '— ■'■■ '"- 

lie loot'd upon 
lie reachM Uie glory of a baud, 
;riiat aaam-rt lotoarb It Into leaf -. 



In wMoh VI 

France. 
Hadat tlion auob credit wiih the aonl f 

■ITienbiiiig an oplalBtiablyairo! 

l)iug down tliB bliudlolil aouj 

TbBt »o my plansura may be wholi 
'WbUe now we Ulk bb otirs ve taL. ,. 
Uf men and ntUida, tlie duic ol 






t 



irlglit. 



And crowds tbat «traam from yawning 

And ahoBls of puclier'il faces driTB 
fJarH bums that lumble halt alive, 

Till all at onoa beyond the will 
Fliard music roll, 

Louks thy fair face and makes llsUtt. 

Err. kinsman tliou to death nni 

Lnd inadness. thou hast (orccil o 
last 
/j/j-hWon^rrcBcnto: fbo Fas; 



The days that c^o 



itlhlist. 

In walliliie'ttsofoldwo wolli'd 
Beside tbo Tlver's wooded reaeli, 
Tba fortrMS. and tbe mountain ridMi 
Tbo cataract flashing troin the brldKO. 
Tbe brealier breaklui; uu the beach. 

HiSEST ibon thus, dim dawn, ngidn, 
Andliowlosl.lsaulnuoutof iflght, ' 
Wllb blasts tbat blow Ibn IMiiilst 
wblle, 
I 1—1. —i.i. ...„. .,._ -■i^muiuj 



lash with I 
pane ? 
Dw whan my arc 
Toplueln tbat 



nsbsrest In the dc 
■Jh thy quick tean 



hcgon 

iveryliriiig bloom, 
lendarcfiliesuu) 



Vp tbe deep C-ist, 01 

A rbegner-WDili r>r ben 
\loug tbe MllB, yet loak' 



Lift as thou I 



°'^J*'™g"l'' 



5o many worlds, aomnch to do. 
So Utile done, sach tilings to be. 
How know I what had need of He.. 

For tbon werl Blroiig oa lh*u wnit, 

rtae fame la gaench'd tbntlfom 
The liead balli uilsa'd an n 



ly MEMoniA^r. 



121 



I curse not nature, no, nor death ; 
For nothing is that errs from law. 

We pass : the path that each man trod 
Is dim. or will be dim, with weeds : 
What fame is left for human deeds 

In endless age ? It rests with Ood. 

hollow wraith of dying fame, 
Fade wholly, while the soul exults, 
And self -infolds the large results 

Of force that would have forged a uomc. 

LXXIT. 

As sometimes in a dead man's face. 
To those tbat watch it more and moro, 
A likeness, hardly seen before, 

Ck>me8oat— to some ouo of hnn raco : 

So dearest, now thy brows are cold. 
I see thee what thou art, and know 
Thv likeness to the wise below. 

Thy kindred with the great of old. 

But there is more than I can see, 
And what I see I leave unsaid, , 
Nor speak it, knowing Death has 
made 

His darkness beautiful with thco. 

LXXV. 

1 LEAVE thy praises unexpress'd 
In verse that brings myself relief, 
And by the measure of my grief 

I leave thy greatness to be guess'd ; 

"What practice howsoe'er expert 
lu fitting aptest words to things. 
Or voice the richest-toned that sings, 

Ilath power to give thee as thou wert ? 

I care not in these fading days 
To raise a cry that lasts not long, 
And round thee with the breeze of 
song 

To stir a little dust of praise. 

Thy leaf has perish'd in the green. 
And, while we breathe beneath the 

sun. 
The world which credits what is done 

Ts cold to all that might have been. 

So here shall silence guard thy fame ; 
But somewhere, out of human view, 
\yhate*er thy hands are set to do 

Is wrought with tumult of acclaim. 

LXXVI. 

Take wings of fancy, and ascend. 
And in a moment set thy face 
Where all the staiTy heavens of 
space 

Are sharpened to a needle's end ; 

Take wings of foresight ; lighten thro' 
The secular abyss to come, 
And lo, thy deepest lays are dumb 

Before the mouldering of a yew ; 

And if the matin songs, that woke 
The darkness of our planet, last. 
Thine own shall wither in the vast, 

Kre half the lifetime of an oak. 



Ere these havo clothed their branchy 
bowers 
With fifty Mays, thy songs are vain; 
And what are they when these 
remain 
The ruiu'd shells of hollow towers ? 

WnAT hopo is hero for modem rhymo 
To him, who turns a musing eye 
On songs, and deeds, and lives, that 
lie 

Forcshorten'd in the tract of time ? 

These mortal lullabies of pain 
ISIay bind a book, may line a box. 
May serve to curl a maiden's locks ; 

Or when a thousand moons shall wano 

A man upon a stall may find. 
And passing, turn the page that tells 
A grief, then changed to something 
else. 

Sung by a long- forgotten mind. 

But what of that ? My darken'd ways 
Shall rln^ with music all the same : 
To breathe my loss is moro than 
fame. 

To utter love more sweet than praise. 

LXXVIII. 

AoAix at Christmas did wo weave 
The holly round the Christmas 

hearth ; 
The silent snow possess'd the earth, 

And calmly fell our Christmas-eve : 

The yule-clocf sparkled keen with frost, 
No wing of wind the region swept. 
But over all things bro<xllng slept 

The quiet sense of something lost. 

As in the winters left behind. 
Again our ancient games had place. 
The mimic f)icturc'8 breathing jrraco. 

And dance and song and hoodman- 
blind. 

Who show'd a token of distress ? 
No single tear, no mark of pain : 

sorrow, then can sorrow wane ? 

O grief, can grief be changed to less ? 

O last rejrret, regret can die ! 
No — mixt with all this mystic frame, 
Her deep relations are the same, 

But with long use her tears are dry. 

LXXIX. 

" More than my brothers are to me " — 
Let this not vex thee, noble heart ! 

1 know thee of what force thou art 
To hold the costliest love in fee. 

But thou and I are one In kind, 
As moulded like in nature's mint , 
And hill and wood and field did print 

llic same sweet forms in either mind. 

For us the same cold streamlet curl'd 
Thro* all his eddying coves ; the 

same 
All \rinds that roam the twilight 
came 
In whispers of the beauteous world. 



^ 




La liu uollkeuuu 






wire rfioiiW lite. 



— .hoWDeWliBreArlliut dleit 
Had moved me kliiill)' from hi" iWc, 
Inrt dtopi the duBC on temilees eyea j 
riiBn fniKT stmprt, Mfmey ean, 
Tlia ETief my loss In Win liad 

A gHe^iM deep ns life or thnnjilit. 
Bot itaj't] In paaoewilh GoJ ana ni«n. 
- ■ re In the brain; 

- ■■B.peaka; 



Hetx 



inlen ot ths i 



it tuma hifl bunleii i 



■■Mj lore abnll now 111 
Tliare cannot oomi 
clianEs, 

Iiora. Iban, had hope o( 



" My sudden frost vfas i 

Anil (cavo all ripeness t 

It might have drawn lion 



«indn. 



^ 



a moTlne on. 



stalk a. 
Or tuln'd chrjaalla of one. 
Kor lilaina T Death, twi-anBn lie bare 

1 knov iranoplBntod liumnii wocth 
ViW bloom to prom, atliarnliere. 
For this alone on Pealli I wreak 

~lie wrnlh that (^niort in my heart ; 
« pnt nnr Urea en far apart 



IWflwIlh Apiilil 



Thy BweBlniBH from iti 
Canttf'-'-"-"-"'' 

Brina rrclila. bring tho rcwaloTe iplro, 
Q'be little BpeedweJt'H <lar11ng blue, 
I>efP lulipB ilaaliM nltb Berj dew, 

I^bwuuniB, dropping'Wella of £ie. 

O then, new-vear, ilelayfng lonct 
UelByB'it Ihe sorrow In my blood, 
That long, to biiml a frozen bud. 

And llou! a f reaber throat wlUt oonj; 

TVefs I contemplate all alona 
The liTe that hod been Lhiae belov, 
And fix in^ Ibougbti on all the b1<>«' 



- --nyll 

To whleh thj 



the Bin* 
lid Lava 

T Bee tbeo rtltlng erown"d with comL 

A ceutTfll warmth dlHueinE bTlsa 

In Blaneu aud aiiille, and claapanil 

On oil the hroncheB of ihyWoort; 
Thyblood, my frleml. and partly mine 

>'or now Uie Aay was dmwliiH on. 

When thou shuuld'at llidn thy lib 

Made evnreaa of tier orange flower, < t 
Deapairof Hope, and eanhol UiM. 



I Bco their tinhnm races ablaa 
lieelde the never-llghteil Qie. 
1 flee m^'Bclf an hononr'd ^eaC, 

Thy partner In the flowcn' walk 

or letlen.genUl table-talk, 
Or deepdlapnte, and giacefal jeat ; 
"While now thy pioanoroua labor nils 

Thellpsofnienwithbc " ■ 



I 



1 




irm 



■«« 



IN MEMORIAM, 



12.0 



Arrive at lasfc the blessed seal, 
Aiid Ue that died in Holy Land 
Would reach us out the sbiuiug liandi 

And take us as a single soul. 

What reed was that on which I leant ? 
A backward fancy, wherefore wake 
The old bitterness again, and break 

The low beginnings of content. 

LXXXV. 

Tnis truth came borne with bier and 

I £lt it, when I sorrow*d most. 
'Tis better to have loved and lost, 
That never to have loved at all— 

O true in word, and tried in deed, 
I>emandinff, so to bring relief 
To this which is our common grief, 

What kind of life is that 1 lead ; 

And whether trust in things above 
Be dimm*d of sorrow, or sustftlh'd ; 
And whether love for him have 
drain'd 

Hy capabilities of love ; 

Your words have virtue such as draws 
A faithful answer from the breast. 
Thro* light reproaches, half exprest, 

And loyal unto Kindly laws. 

Xy blood an even tenor kept. 
Till on mine ear this message falls, 
That in Vienna's fatal walls 

€h)d's finger touched him, and he slept. 

The great Intelligences fair 
That range above our mortal state, 
Tn circle round the blessed gate, 

Beoeived and gave him welcome tiiere ; 

And led him thro* the blissful climes, 
And show'd him in the fount£un 

fresh 
All knowledge that the sons of flesh 

Shall gather in the cycled times. 

But I remi^n*d whose hopes were dim, 
Whose life, whose thoughts were 

little worth. 
To wander on a darken*d earth, 
Where all things round me breathed 
of him. 

O friendship, equal-poised control. 
O heart, with kindliest motion warm, 

sacred essence, other form. 
O solemn ghost, O crowned soul I 

Yet none could better know than I. 
How much of act at human hands 
The sense of human will demands 

By which we dare to live or die. 

Whatever way my days decline, 

1 felt and feel, tho* left alone, 
His being working in mine own. 

The footsteps of his life in mine ; 

A life that all the Muses deck'd 
With gifts of grace, that might ex- 

presa 
All comprehensive tenderness, 

All-subtilmng intellect : 

And so my passion hath not swerved 
To works of weakness, but I hnd 



An image comforting the mind, 
Aiid in my grief a strength reserved. 

Likewise the imaginative woe. 
That loved to handle spiritual strife, 
Diffused the shock thro' all my life. 

But in the present broke the blow. 

My pulses therefore beat again 
For other friends that once I met ; 
T^oT can it 8uit me to forget 

The mighty hopes that make us men. 

I woo your love : X count it orimo 
To niouni for any overmtich ; 
I, the divided half of such 

A friendship as had master'd Time ; 

Which masters Time indeed, and is 
Eternal, separate from fears : 
The all-assuming months and years 

Can take no part away from this : 

But Summer on the steaming flood(«. 

And Spring that swells the narrow 
brooks. 

And Autumn, with a noise of rooks. 
That gather in the waning woods. 

And every pulse of wind and wave 
Kecalls, in change of light or gloom, 
My old affection of the tomb, 

And my prime passion in the grave : 

My old aifection of the tomb, 
A part of stillness, yearns to speak : 
** Arise, and get thee forth ana seek 

A friendship for the years to ceme. 

I watch thee from the quiet shore : 
Thy spirit up to mine can reach ; 
But in dear words of human speech 

We two communicate no more.'^ 

And I, ** Can clouds of nature stain 
The starry clearness of the free ? 
How is it ? Canst thou feel for mo 

Some painless sympathy with pain ? " 

And lightly does the whisper fall ; 

*Ti8 hard for thee to fathom this ; 

I triumph in conclusive bliss. 
And that serene result of all.'* 

So hold I commerce with the dead ; 

Or so methinks the dead would eay ; 

Or so shall crief with symbols play, 
And pining life be fancy-fed. 

Now looking to some settled end. 
That these things pass, and 1 shall 

prove 
A meeting somewhere, love with 
love, 
I crave your pardon, O my friend ; 

If not so fresh, with love ns true. 
I, clasping brother-hands, aver 
I could not, if I would, transfer 

The whole I felt for him to you. 

Fbr which be they that hold apart 
The promise of the golden hours ? 
I^lrst love, first friendship, equal 
powers, 

That marry with the virgin heart. 

Still mine, that cannot but deplore^ 
That beats within. aloueV^ '^\Qkc^«, 



That jet remcmlie™ lili embrarc, 
But at mi fooulep leo-pft no more, 
Ky heart, tbo' wido'r'd, may not reat 

uoltaliitlie loTsof vhMUgoue, 

But Bceki to tKit in time with one 
Ttwl irumB auolhei living nraul. 
Ah, Uki ths Imperfent gift I bring, 

KDOWlag the prlmroee yet iB doar, 

A* uat uulllie lo that of Spring. 

EwEEr iifl*r iliowen. ambroalsl rii. 
That rallaiC Itom tba Eotgeooa 

o/'eTsnlng over tirake and bloom 
AjiJ msailo*', slowly breathiug t«i™ 
The round of apiui, and rapt beloi 

ITiro' all the dewj-lMMird Horn 

And ihadowlng <J 






mybro' 



id blov 



and Leaih. 
m brelhreu, let Ih( 
From belt lo belt ol 
Onlsaguea of ode 

A huudnil aplrlii i 



IT TiCa that Ie«£ t 



^botoiainoretbcgowii 
tha tumult of Ibe halls ; 
■aoncemoraln^llcBPfj! 
Dim their higb-huUt ur. 



Tbo roeaantecl pulse ol 

AmonKthewillo«'B;i>n 

And luauy a bridge, anil 

i, but 1 

tFp that loni walk o( llmss I past 
To eee Iho rooms In wblch ho Jwelt. 
Another name wbi on Ibe iloor : 
1 llngBr'd ; all ivltliin waa imtao 
Ol Bong, and cJajiping hsiidn, and 

That crash'd the elars and beat (lis 

Where once we hohl debate, a hand 
or youthful frieiidB, on niiud and 

And labor, sud iho ohancrtnE mart, 
And all Ibe Iramawork of the land ; 
When one would aim an arrow talr. 

But sand It alackl]' from the atriuc ; 



And laBi Ibe msater-botrni 
TTs lent him. Who, bnt bong mI 



The Gad wltbin blm light hit faco- 
AnclBsfmlolirtlhe form, and glow 

Inaiure orblia beavenlr-wlae ; 

And Dier those eUiereal eyea 
The bar of Michael Angelo* 

Wn-n bird, whoae warble, Uquld a«M(, 
niiiEB Eden thro' ths badded qulcka, 
O tell me where the aenaei -■- 

O tell me whete the paialoui 



>y spirits In the r: 
Thy paeBlon clasps a 



WrrcH-CiMiia that counterchange tha 

Of IbiB flat Sawn with dusk and 
bright ; 

And Tbou, with nU Ihy brcadtli anJ 
hslght 
Of folluge, towering aycamore ; 
now often, bitber wanderinidown. 

My Artliur found your ahadowa fdn 

And shook to all the liberal air 
Tbe dUBt and din and steam of town : 
Ho brought an eye for all be saw; 



i 

I 

i 



And dusty purlieus of tb 
OJoytohimln thlBtetr 



To drink the n 



iSark, 



Tbo landacape winking tbio' the t 
tinnnd t^ rout tbe brood of care- 
Tlio sweep of sfylheln morning 
The gnat tliat round tbe garden...-, 
nd tumbled halt the mellowing 

bllBB, when all In circle drawn 
"■ ■"' ' ' a, heart and oar were fed 



Tohearhlm, aabal 



Tbe^ 









ly MEMORIAL. 



125 



Or here she brought tho harp and 
flung 
A baUad to the brightening moon : 

Kor lees it pleased in livelier moods, 
Beyond the bounding hill to stray, 
And break the livelong summer day 

With banquet in the distant woods ; 

Whereat wo glanced from thcmo to 
theme, 
Discuss'd the booics to love or hato, 
Or touch'd the changes of the state, 

Or threaded some Socratic dream ; 

But if I praised the busy town. 
He loved to rail against it still, 
For ** ground in yonder social mill 

We mb each others angles down, 

**And merge" he said, '<iu form and 
gloss 
The pictnresqne of man and man.** 
Wetalk*d: tne stream beneath ns 
ran, 
The wine-flask lying couch'd in moss, 

Or coord within the glooming wave ; 
And last, returning from uar, 
Before the crimson-circled star 

Bad fairn into her father's grave. 

And bmshing ankle-deep in flowers. 
We heard behind the woodbine veil 
Hie milk that bubbled in the pail. 

And buzzings of the honied hours. 

xc. 

IlR tasted love with half his mind. 
Nor ever drank the inviolate spring 
Where nighest heaven, who flrst 
could fling 

This bitter seed among mankind ; 

That could the dead, whose dying eyes 
Were closed with wail, resume their 

life, 
They would but find in child and 
wife 
An iron welcome when they rise : 

'Twas well, indeed, when warm with 
wine. 
To pledge them with a kindly tear, 
To talk them o'er, to wish tlieni here, 

To count their memories half divine ; 

But if they came who past away. 
Behold their brides iii other hands ; 
The hard heir strides about their 
lands. 

And will not yield them for a day. 

Yea, tho' their sous «were none of 
these, 
Kot less the yet-loved sire would 

make 
Confusion worse than death, and 
shake 
The pillars of domestic peace. 

I Ah dear but come thou back to me : 

I Whatever change the years have 

I wrought, 

I I And not yet one lonely thought 

I That cries against my wish for thee< 

r — — 



XCI. 



WiiEx rosy plumelets tuft tho larch. 
And rarely pipes the mouuwd 

thrush; 
Or underneath the barren bush 

Flits by the sea blue bird of March ; 

Come, wear the form by which I know 
Thy spirit in time among thy peers, 
The hope of unaccomplish'd yeais 

Be large and lucid round thy brow. 

When summer's hourly-mellowing 
change 
May breathe, with many roses sweet. 
Upon the thousand waves of wheat, 

That ripple round tho lonely grange ; 

Come : not in watches of tho night. 
But when tho sunbeam broodeth 

warm, 
Come, beauteous in thine after form, 

And like a liner light iu light. 

XCII. 

Ip any vision should reveal 
Thy likeness, I might count it vain 
As but the canker of the brain : 

Yea, tho' it spake and made appeal 

To chances where our lots were cast 
Together in the davs behind, 
I might but say, I hear a wind 

Of memory murmuring the past. 

Yea, tho' it spake and bared to victv 
A fact within the coming year; 
And tho' the months, re>olvlngnear. 

Should prove the phantom-warning 
true. 

They mieht not seem thy prophecies, 
But spiritual presentiments, 
And such refraction of events 

As often rises ere they rise. 

XCIII. 

I snALL not see thee. Dare I say 
No spirit ever brake the band 
That stays him from the native land, 

Where tirst he walk'd when clasp'd in 
• clay? 

No visual shade of some one lont, 
But he, the Spirit himself, may 

come 
Where all the nerve of sense is 
numb ; 
Spirit to Spirit, Ghost to Ghost. 

O. therefore, from thy sightless range 
With gods in uncoujectured bliss, 
O, from tlie distance of the abyss 

Of tenfold-complicated change, 

Descend, and touch, and enter ; hear 
The wish too strong for words to 

name ; 
That in this blindness of the frame 

My Ghost may feel that thine is near. 

xciv. 
How pur« at heart and sound in head, 



LOW pur 
With w 



hat divine afCocUous bold. 




^^ 



IN ME3I0RIAM. 



Sxneft, like them, Uiod loo cunt 
Ht iiiirlt Is aC peue wiUi all. 
Thej' linunt tie lUenee of tlie hrensl, 

IiiiaelniitloiiB culm aiiil fair. 

ThemcgnocT likeacloudieMolr, 

Bat whan Ihn benrt is full nl rlin. 

Auii iTcAi UiB boiu^olil Joe vlUilu. 

Bt night we Unger'd on the lawn, 
For underfoot the herb was dry ; 
And geiilal vaimlh ; aud u'er the 

The Bilver7 hue of aummer drawn ; 

And calm tlmt let the tapera buni 
Unwaveriiig: iiotftiricltel cWn'd : 
The brook alone fol-oir was beanl. 

And ou the board the flulWiIng uru: 

AndbalB went roand in fraitranc shies, 
Anil wbeel'd or lit the lilmj ahapea 
That haunt tbs dusk, wlQi ermine 

And nooU; breaaU nnd beaded e;es ; 

'Willie now we uing old gonGS that 
From knoll to knoll, niiere, conch'd 
The white klne gUmmer'd. and the 

Laid iheir dark anna about the field. 

But when Ihos. 



Mon\i 



Wlilidi 

night. 

And In i 






IS iu Mb WBa wouud, nni 
impyraal heights of Ibnuglit, 

ori.1. 



of Tlme~t£e siiockB 
If Death. At length hit 
'd> atrlckeu thro' ^'It 
Vagne worda ! bnt ah, how hanl t 
vmoulded fcTms of speedi, 
Thro" memory that which I becaii 
Till now tHe doubtful duak reveal _ 
The knolla once mora wheiv, couch'd 
The white fclne glimmery, anil lbs 
Laid their da* arma about the noW : 
Aiidsuck'd &Dm out Ihedlatnniitlooiii 
A breeie b««aii to Ireinble o'er 
The large leareB of Uie aycamore 
And flui^tuala all tbs stjll petfoine 
And galberine treBhlfer overbeiul, 
liock'd the f ull-follageil elnit^ and I 

The heavj-folied roae, niid iJnnir 
The liUea to aud Iiu, aiid aaid 
"The dawn, tho dawn," and dl 
And East and ■West, wilheut 
Milt their dim lighti. like life ai 



the house light aftar light 



glad year which onco 

which kept 



Of tKa 
been, 
III tlioee fa 
their greei , 
Tho nobis leltsrs of the dead : 
111 strangely on the eilance brpks 
Lhe slleui-epeakiug woidt. and 
flrangu 
ffw. ioYo'a dumb ery defying clianga 
teat his worth; audscraugelysiHike 
a-he faltli, the vigor, buhl to dwell 

Suggeitiaii tiTher inmost cell. 

So vord br woni, and line by line. 



/ 



In many a subtle quea 
Wbolouch'dajarTitig 



tued. 



Bui 

Perplei 



I faltli, but pure in deeds, 
»e« more laiUi lu'honeM 
t, Iban in half the crendi. 
lie fought hi* doubts and galbcT'd 

He nould not make his judtnociii 

blind, ■* " 

He faced tho specfrea of tile mind 

And laid them : ihua ho etaa at 

To find a stronger laith his own '. 



/JV MEJ^ORIAM. 



Whkli nukw tha dukiuM &;id tl 
And Jwelli not In the light nlona. 
But 111 the (IsrkniiH uid Uia «k)U<], 

At orar Siiial'a pealia of aid. 



a ha> talk'd wiUi mckt 

da on mlat; inoiintBlntn' 
m TMt uliudow glorj-cioi 



hearU of old haio beat in 
maallnga miide December 



Are eunest that he lovee lie 
^lule'ar the f^thlen people 
Iter life 1<I lone, he Hlto 



Ha reads th 



Ha aeeiDs to ellgbt her ehnple hean!' 

He thiids the lubTilnth of tha mind, 

" ■■- "- 1 of the Btar, 

i IhhikB him'iind. 

She kaepa the xlft o( Team before, 

A wtther-d violet is lier bliss : 

She kiiows not what his ErealneBiils: 

For that, (or all, ihe lovealilai more. 

For him she plBys, to him ahe filnin ; 

Of early fafti. and pllRbleil vo»s ; 



Sbe dwe^ ou Mm wiOi "aiUiIui 
1 1 auuiot imderetand ; I lore." 



la ; jon will ac 



1 1 aidl'd bi 



Tonle«TB_.^- 

And thoaa fair h 

When I vai tbere with him ; anu t,< 

Bt Mmmei tielta of whaac oud vluo 

Tu wbate 1m breathedbli lateit bieat: 
That Ci^. All bar aplcndor seems 
Ho Uvelfer ttian tha wisp that glean 

On Lstba lu tba e jaa of Death. 

Lat ber creat Danube toUlns f Air 
EDwinAhar 1»W, uiimark'd of me: 
1 have act aean. I will not >ee 

nnma ; ntber dnam that Iheic, 



I> ortener partAd, fathers bend 

Gnarr at the heels of men. and pray 
By each culd hearth, and tadiMM 

Her s^ndnw on the blaie of kinea : 
And jet myself have beard him eay, 

With Hiatelier progreFS id and fro 
The double tides of eharloC> flow 
By park and suburb under brown 
Of Insrler leares : no moremntent 
He tol.l me. lives In any crowds 
-tVbenulllH nay »lthlsmp>,sii^ loud 
■With sport iiud soug, In booth uid 



RiSEBT thou thUB. dim dawn, («nln. 
So loud wllh Toiies ot the birds, 
So thick with lowing ol the harda, 

Day, when I lost the Sower of meu ; 

Who tremblest Ihro' thy darkling rod 



neadoii 



thy 

1 breathing of Ihei 



holy to the deadj 

And Autumn laying liere and Ihert 

A llary fiiigec on the feavub ; 

Who wakenest with thy balmy breatl 

To myriads on the genial earth. 

Memories of bridal, or. of blrih. 



indscape underneath, 
s memory of my friend ; 
aaq and whispering reed, 
up the winily wold ; 



rsl rlTUlet tbat iwet^w 



V 



;.V MEMOniAM, 



To left and right thro" meBdoiiy 



But ew*h» pieced 
Aiid *acli roUeelii a 
Alii leaving thi«e. 


ei". 


»™aj-. 


rsTVATcn'D, tio £an) 


=Tlb„ 


Sh Bhall 


TMb inapls bam Kiel 




Unloved, the »iin-flowor, ahlnlnc fnJ r, 
Hay rouiia wlUi Uanies lier ilisli g/ 

And ntnv a rDae-camation tebl 
VitU Hammer aplte Uia liuuuulng iJr i 
UHloved, bj many aiandv tar, 



UnoatBd (or, gird tlie windy grova, 
And Hood Uie Laimta of liern aD< 

Or iHto silver Brrewa braak 
Tlio i^lng moon iu croek and cava ; 
Till fHim tbe Bfl^an andlbe wild 

A fresh nMociaiion blow. 



And vear ' 

'romidlLli 



r lops the gladea^ 
iTuie billu. 



TTe leave Ihe well-belove<l plate 
Tlia roofs, that hoard uut ea 
Trill sb'ellflr one ot itranger race. 





>!■ 



A river sliding by the wi 

Tbe ball with harp and carol rang. 
llicv Bang ot what ia wise nml ^ 
Andgraoeful, In Ihe ';«utrB I 

A staiue vell'd, to whlub Ihey bj 

And vthich, tho' veil'd, waa luu 
Tlio shape of him I loved, and 



To where a little shallop lay 
At anchor in tbe dood below ; 
And on by many a level mead, 

And ehadowing bluil that inndeths 

Vte gilded viodlng under nmlca 
Of ilia, and tlie golden reed : 
And atlll iw vaater grew the shore. 

And loU'd the dooda iu grand 

The nialdani gather'd strength and 
Aiuf^aence, lordUer than before ; 
And I myself, vbn sat apart 

And wiittk'd them, wai'il in evm 
limb: 






Of tl 



ss of a Titan-i 
ouWslngtli 



lAosh 



[ofa, 



Oils I 



Until tbe tarward-creeptng tides 
BegBn lo toam, and we to dntv 
From deep tu deep, to whore wa t- 

A great ship lift her shining aides. 

The man wa loved was there oi 
Bnt tliriee as large aa map ' 
To greet us. Up the side] 

And fell In silenoe on his iieca 

Whereat those maidens with o 
Bewail'd their lot ; I did then 

served thoo here," ihey as 






willU 



leave ua now baUndfj 

>, they could uol win 
■ from mvlip* but h* 
'■ enter Ultewbe ye 
us : "■ Ihej' eulei'il liw 



IN MEMOniAM. 



129 



And while the vlnd began to pveep 
A music out of abeet uid slirond, 
We steer'd ber toward a orimson 
cloud 

Tbat landlike slept along tbo deep. 

CIY. 

TnE time drawa near tbo birtb of 
Gbrist; 

Tbe moon is bid, tbe niebt is still ; 

A ringle cbureb below the bill 
Is pealing, folded in tbe mist. 

A single 'i>eal of bells below, 
Tbm wakens at this bour of rest 
A single murmur in tbe breast, 

TLat tbese are not tbe bells I know. 

Like stranger's yoices here they sound, 
In lands where not a memory strays, 
Nor landmark breathes of other days, 

Bat all is new unballow'd ground. 

cv. 

To-XTOHT unsatber'd let us leave 
This laurel, let this holly stand : 
We live within tbe sti-aiiger's land, 

And strangely falls our Christmas eve. 

Our fMlier's dust is left alono 
And silent under other snows : 
There in due time tbo wood-bino 
blows, 

Tbe violet comes, but wo are gone. 

No more shall wayward grief abuse 
The genial bour with mask and mlroc ; 
For chance of place, like growth of 
time, 

lias broke tbe bond of dying use. 

Let cares tbat petty shadows cast. 

By which our lives are chiefly provctl, 
' A little spare the night I loved, 
And bold it solemn to the post. 

Dut let no footsteps beat the floor. 

Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm ; 

For who would keep an ancient form 
Xbro' which tbe spirit breathes uo 
more? 

Be neither song, nor came, nor feast ; 

Nor harp be touch'd, nor flute bo 
blown ; 

No dance, no motion, save alone 
What lightens in the lucid east 

Of riring worlds by yonder wood. 

Long sleeps tbe summer iu the seed ; 

Kan out your measured arcs, and 
lead 
Hm dosing cycle rich in good. 

cvi. 

ViiSQ out. wild bells, to the wild sky, 
Tbe flying cloud, tbe frosty light : 
The year is dying in tbe night : 

Ring out, wild oelis, and let him die. 



Biug oat ihe old, ring in the new. 
Kmgi bapjpy bells, across tbe snow : 
The year is soing, let him go ; 

Slug oat the ntlse, ring in tbe true. 



Bing out tbe grief that saps the mind, 
For those that here we see no more ; 
lUiis out tbe feud of rich and poor. 

Ring m redress to all mankind. 

lUng out a slowly dyincr cause, 
And ancient forms of party strlfo ; 
King in the nobler modes of life, 

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Hing out the want, tbe care, the sin. 

The faithless coldness of the times ; 
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes. 
But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood. 
The civic slander and the spite ; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 

Ring ui the common love of good. 

liins out old shapes of foul disease ; 

Ring out this narrowing lust of gold ; 

Ring out the thousand wars of old. 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free. 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land. 

Ring iu the Christ tbat is to be. 

^ CVII. 

It is the day when he was bom, 
A bitter day that early sank 
Behind a purple-frosty bank 

Of vapor, leaving night forloni. 

The time admits not flowers or leaves 
To deck the banquet. Fiercely flies 
The blast of North and East, and ice 

Makes daggers at the sharpened eaves, 

And bristles all the brakes and thorns 
To yon hard crescent, as she bangs 
About the wood which grides and 
clangs 

Its leafless ribs and iron boms 

Toeetber in the drifts that pass 

To darken on the rolling brine 
That breaks the coast. But fetch the 

wine, 
Arrange the board and brim tbe glass; 

Bring in great loss and let them lie, 
To make a solid core of heat ; 
Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat 

Of aJl things ev'n as he were by ; 

We keep the day. With festal cheer, 
With books and music, surelv we 
Will drink to him, whate*er ne be, 

And sing tbe songs he loved to hear. 

CVIII. 

I WILL not shut me from my kind. 
And, lest I stiffen into stone. 
I will not eat my heart alone, 

Nor feed with sighs a passing wind : 

What profit lies in barren faith, 
And vacant yearning, tbo' with 

might 
To scale tbe heaven*s highest height^ 

Or dive below tbe wells oiDeath? 



V 



IX MLHOlil.lM. 



Alid oil Ibo ilaiillu.of ilaaLh ll» 



Prom Uuunebold 



icrapblc Iiitelloct lu 



IT Itia iloutKB ciC 



ulon-aioBlD. wMch 

lOtoua of lh_„ 

.nil iicmscetic gloum , 

And pbmIou pura \a suowy rJ^oDni 

TUfo' bX\ Uie years of Apdl bloom ; 

A loTo ot ftosUom rarely (elt. 
or rreadoiu In her rogal Beat 
UIKuglaiiil; iiutllie sciiDolboy lieal 



, child wonld twlui 

A triutful buiil, Duasli'd, in thine, 

Anil Hull hla comloic lutby f&ee ; 

All llieia liave beau, and theo mUii 
llBYfl loolt'd ou : ir they look'd li 
My •linmo In iminler who reninln, 

Tnv convBrao draw us with delight. 

T!l0 uiBll oC raUiB and rlyer ycttii ; 

The feeble loul, a baiiiit ot feius, 
Forgot hia wealtutMs lu thy sight. 
UiiUiestba luyal-h ant ted hung, 

l^he pruud was halt illeiLriu'd o 
pride, 

Mor eared 1}ie seipenCat tbTeide 
T.-< Ulckei vrltU his double tuugue. 

The Jlippaut put hiiuBun w ntumn 
■Waa sofleu'cl, and he knew not why ; 
AVhIle I. thy deaieat, sat npart, 

Aiidteltlbv trluoijib wasosmine; 

The grscef ul tact, tha Christian 

Not mine tlie sweelneas 
But mine the love, that win u 
And. bom at love, the yague 

nrn aiiun ail ImltatlTo will 



rtby. 



ikill. 



Tohlni \.UoQi 



The chnrl In spirit, liowo'er lie veil 
Hla want In forma for fashion-. Ml 



'i'o nhoui a IhouBSiid lufinioricn mL 
Kot iKiiiig leBK butiiioro than nil 
Tho eautlonens ho Beem'd to bo, 
EeBt Beoni'd tlio thing ho was, and 

rnch omco or tha aocial hoor 
And nalivo growth u'f iioblo luiinl ; 
Nor OTOT imrroWTieBB or Bpilo, 
Or villain (aiipy DBOIing by/ 
l)^? iu Lha Bxprsaslon of an eTi>. 
Whare Ood and Mature met iu llgiii , 
And tliua he bora without abata 
The eratiii old naoie of eentleiuaii, 

And Bull'd wiLh all'lgiKiblc use! 



ItiGii wisdom holds my wisdom len. 
That 1, who gaie with t«m|wrmo «y# 
On gloriouB TnaufflcteneleB. . 

Set light by uarrow perfectueM. 

Dut tliDU, tliat filleat all the room 
or all my love, art renaon why 



OllBOUlB,tll 


e leaaar lords or'Uoom. 


For what watt Uiou? somo uomI 

Syranc up for ever at a tooeh, 
And hope could i.uver hoiio KM 

In natuhiusthoo from hour to hour, ' 


^I'u" 


« ot"^ui 


'&'i„. 


And world-wide flnc 


»'Ea. 



'Winch not alone had guided me, 
Butsiirvod thuaeuoua Uiat uiayriMi 



A sonl on hlghell niisiion a«nt, 
A potant Tol™ ol ParliBineiit, 
A pillar sceadtaM In tlie storm, 
Shontd llFeiited boldiien gather foro4> 
Becomiiig, when the tlma has blnl^ 



7.V MEMOPdAM, 



131 



v/iiL 



with thousand shocks that come ami 
so. 

agonies, with enerffies. 
With overthrowinfi:s, ami with cries. 
And undulations to aiul fro. . 

cxir. 

Who lores not Knowledge ? Who shall 
roil 
Affainst her beanty ? May plie mix 
with men and prosper I Who shall 
fix 
Her pillars ? Let her work prevail. 

But on her forehead sits a fire : 
She sets her forward countenance 
And leaps into the future chance, 

Submitting all things to desire. 

Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain- 
She cannot fight the fear of death. 
What is she. cut from love and faith, 

But some wild Pallas from the brain 

Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst 
All barriers in her onward race 
For power. Let her know her place ; 

She is the second, not the fl»t, 

A higher hand must make her mild, 
If all be not in vain ; and guide 
Her footsteps, moving side by side 

With wisdom, like the younger child : 

For she is earthly of the mind, 
But Wisdom heavenly of the soul. ' 
O, friend, who earnest to thy goal 

Bo early, leaving me behind, 

I would the great world grew like thee. 
Who grewest not alone in power 
And knowledge, but by year and hour 

In reverence and in chanty. 

cxv. 

Kow fades the last long streak of snow« 
Now bourgeons every maze of quick 
About the lioweriug . squares, and 
thick 

By ashen roots the violets blow. 

Now rings tbe woodland loud and long. 
The distance takes a lovelier hue, 
Anddrown'd in yonder living blue 

The lark becomes a sightless song. 

Kow dance the lights on lawn and lea, 
The tlocks are whiter down the vale. 
And milkier every milky sail 

On winding stream or distant sea ; 

Where now the seamew pipes, or dives 
in yonder greening gleum, and tly 
The happy birds, that change their 
sky 
To build and brood ; that live their 
Uvea 

Viom land to land ; and in my breast 
Spring wakens too ; and my regret 
BecomeH an April violet. 

And buds and blossoms like the rest. 

CXVl. 

Is it,' then, regret for buried time 
Tuat keeuUer in sweet April wakes, 



And meets the year, and gives and 
takes 
The colours of t)*o orescent prime ? 

Not all : the songs, the stirring air, 
The life re-orient out of dust. 
Cry thro* the sense to hearten trust 

In that which made the world so fair. 

Not all regret ; the face will shine 
Upon me, while I muse alone ; 
And tliat dear voice, I once have 
known. 

Still speak to me of me and mine : 

Yet less of sorrow lives in me 
For days of happy commune dead : 
I^ss yearning for the f liendship fled, 

Than some strong bond which is to be. 

ex VII. 

O DAYS and hours, your work is thL«», 
To hold nie from my proper place, 
A little while fromnis embrace, 

For fuller gain of after bliss : 

That out of distance might ensue 
l>e8ire of nearness doubly sweet ; 
And unto meeting when we meet, 

Delight a hundredfold accrue, 

For every grain of sand that runs, 
And every span of shade that steals, 
And every kiss of toothed wheels, 

And all the courses of the suns. 

CXVIII. 

Contemplate all this work of Time, 
The ffiant laboring in his youth ; 
Nor dream of human love and truth, 

As dying nature's earth and lime ; 

But trust that those we call the dead 
Are breatliers of an ampler day 
For ever nobler ends. They sav, 

The solid eaith whereon we tread 

In tracts of fluent heat began, 
And grew to seeminc-random forms, 
The seeming prey ofcyclic storms. 

Till ut the last arose the man ; 

Who throve and branched from clime 
to clime, 
Tlie herald of a higher race. 
And of himt^elf iu higher place 

If so ho typo this work of lime 

Within himself, from more to more f 
Or, crown'd with attributes of woe 
IJke glories, move his course and 
show 

That life is not as idle ore. 

But iron dug from central gloom, 
And heated hot with burning fears. 
And dipt in baths of hissing tears. 

And batter'd with the shocks of doom 

To shape and use. Arise and fly 
The reeling Faun, the sensual feast ,• 
Move iipward, working out the beast|. 

And let tne ape and tiger die. . 



V 



7.V Mi:.\lor:iAJi. 



DooK.i, wlioro my heart it 

So qulcklT. not lu ono tbi 

IcmnBOiioBtnoiB: thocK 
I aTnall Uie meadow \n the ■ 
I liBBT ■ cblrp of bird! : I x 

Bstwlxt Uie black fmiU 
drawn 

A llcllC-blas lane of tnrly 



A iphen of stoTB tiov 
In all bar motlou one w.u ...- , 
If thou Wert with Dio, And iha gmn 

Divide ua not, be with me now, 

Tfll all inj- blood, a^tuUp* way"*' 
Co qulcleird with a llTeller bnath, 



my thonEhfB with 
proMiiro of thine 1 



Moimetla moakerieB 1 not In vain, 
IJkoTaul with b«a«(a, I fouebt with 

Death; 
lint only conidng casta In clay : 



Let him. tho wlier mon who Bpttiiea 
HereaCtei, up f com childhood Bliaps 
Hli action lllio the creaMrape, 



Bai> Hespet o'er Iho hnried aun 

* nd leodT, thou, to dis with him, 

_Jiou ivatcheil all thingi ever dim 

And dimmer, and a glory donn : 

TJie team U looaen'J from the wain. 

The boat li drawn upon tho ehoro. ; 

And tUe ia daikeu'd In the brain. '' 
Bright Pho8pbor,freahor tortbe night 
Uy thee lie world'a (froat work [: 

Be^nnlng, and tho wakeful bird ; 
'-•' ■>• ■>- iraator light : 



V- 



clluk, 
nd aee-Bt the moYine of tha tea 

Sweat Heaper-Phoiphor, double 
For what U one, the tint, tlie 1 
Thou, like my prsaent and m; 

Thy place la chonEed ; thou a 



□p aoHiuat uty doom, 
I to bunt ihu folded 

al HeaveoB Bfaln, 
ouee more. in placid awe, 
itroua luiagluallou roU 



To lace tue etetii 



1 



fe ailZiealh ; 



I Blip the thought! of llf I 
Anil all the breeeo of Fancy 
And every dew-drop paint: 



TiTEBr. rolls thu deep where cro" 
O eailh, what ehon^a 3mfiC thou 



Fruni loim ii> form, and iwoiint J 

They meit like miat, the solid 
Like cloudt Uiey ahupa ibuDieeli 

so. 
But in my spirit will I dwell, 

And dream my dream, uAd 

For tho- my Hub may breathe adieu, (1 
1 Daunot thiuk the thins facewutl. jj 

That whlcli wo dare InvoVo to 1 



dm 



faith) 
They, Ono, All; T 



dorkneaa wbom wi 

I found Himnotin wDrM or inn. 

Or easle'B wing, or inaecfa eye ; 

Nor liiro' the queatloua men may tn 

The petty cobwebe we have apuu : 

If o'oT when faith had fall'n asleep. 

And heard an ever breaking (bora 
That tumbled Id the Godieai deep ; 
A warmth willllJl tho breait would I 



The treeiing reaaon'i 
Slood upandanlwcr'd 



at, crying, knows lilH father ua 

nd wbac I am beheld again 

tVhat ii. and no man uiidentantai 



AV UEJfORIAif. 



Y.1K, tiio' tbers nlUn ix 
A ciHitndlcUoii uii ibe to 
Vol IIop« bk-l never loaC 
' e did buE look Ihr. 



lies, 
Bocuue ho felt 



play'd wltU graciou 
■0 fli'il In truth : 
were fnllnt core, 
lie uplrlt of the loug ; 



V, tbat koepa 
Ing.lill. 

•aj niT Lord ftnd Xln;;, 
pwMi.™ I BtWlld 
.tldines of my friend, 
hour his couj^ers btliig. 
-w my KIna (Uid Lord. 
,lho'u veTlkeep 
I court ou earth, and 



M by lili faithful guBrd, 
iid hear at tlmei a sentinel 
Who EDOYei about from plaee t 

And whisparB to thewnrlda of spiLce 
jnUta deep nigbl. that all la tvell. 



rad. 



Tocbdniing social truth ehal 

And Justice, ey-n tho" tliric.. _„ 

Tbe red tool-fury of the Seine 
Should pile her banicadoB with dead. 
lot 111 lor him that wean a crown. 
And him, the laiar. In his mgti : 
They tremble, tbe lustaliiltie crags ; 
Ttia spires ol ice are tiippled dowu, 
And moltan np, and roar in flood ; 



Aud the grsM £on al: 



II blood, 
._ of He 

t, happy 






And uoileat, knowluf all la 



■t oddlea In the fl< 



..jid throned races may degrade ; 
Tet, O ye myateiiea of good, 
Wild Hoon that fly with Hope and 
all your oOlee had to da 



■o fool the < 



Jigloriou 



9 sword. 



To change the bearing of a word. 
To shift an arbitrary power, 

To cramp the student at his (leak. 

To mnfce old bareneaa pLcturciqua 
And tuft with graan a feudal tower ; 
Why then my scoru might well de- 



cend 
Tbat all, a 



le piece of art. 



Dt./ih friend, far olT, my lost derire 



wn and unknown ; liuinan, dlTlne; 
'eet human hand and lips aud eye; 
:ar heaienly friend that oauat not 

Strange friend, pait, present, and to 
iTO deepUer, darklier understood i 
'mingle all tlie'world with thee'. 






What art thou then 

Itut tho' t seem In star ana now< 

To feel thee some dlftualre powc 

I do not therefore love thee less : 

My love involves tlie love before ; 



-V 




dumgod 

And ;aC ii Ibte not less, I 

Xo lonmr cirlng to embal 
1 11 dyliiii saiiDU a dead ic 
But liku a alatue uilid-set, ' 

And moulded in colounl calm. 

Jlocret la d^ad, liutlovo Is more 
■Xlmn lu the lummers tLut ato flown, 
For I nij-BcIt witli Ihssa havB grown 

Tq sometliiug graaUr Uian before ; 

Wlileti tnalHis nppesc Uie Bonge I mtda 
Aa Imir but Idla brawling ih^] 



Of EdBii oil ItB biidnriwifei : 
On ma rhe bonda her blleatul evea 
And Itien an Uiee; Uiey muet thy 

And brlilitBn like tlic ttar that abook 
Batwtxt lUB r^IniH of paradiBo- 
O when ber lire wu yet In bud. 

He too forel<i1d Uio {jsrf ei:t rose. 

Foe ever, end ai fair as gocid. 

And Ihon art worthy ; full of power ; 
As gentle ; Uberal-niindod. BraM, 
Uonsiatent ; weaiing all ibat weight 

Of leamlna UgbUy like a flower. 



10 bride j 
ee beilda 



AndlmiutgiTeo 

Sliefeannotpom 
And me beblnd her, 
For I tliat danced her on m; knee, 

Thfct watch'd her on her nnma-i i 

ThMstileliledanili^ili 
At lait muit part wiUi li( 
How waiting to be made 

Her feit, luy dnrlliig, u 



the poriikj tbey pi 
That haa to'-^Jny its sunny aide. 
To-aay the eniTe la brieht for n... 
For thtm tbe Lglit ol lite lncrBa*e& 
°'"'" *"■ ~'"™ the morning f™n 



Whoi 



iiight baalde thi 



To mt 

Mf drooping ... . 

The loainlng grape of ■ 
It rirclaa round, and fo 



hitecs 



■Til n. 



And lioartB uro wacm'd, aiid facta 
Aa drinking health to bride and 
Wo wiah them store of happy daya. 






I rTI to blame it I 



-u or a stiller gue 



Diiff tll» 



\iid,tho' in alienee, wishing }03-. 
But they mtut co, the time drnwa n 

And ttioae «mifl-fHvor'd boracaw 

They riae, but liiiger i It Is lato ; 
['arcwcll, we kiss, oiidlhcy ataguit 
K fhade falls on ns like the dark 

From little elondlela i" ">» -"•- 

fiutaweei 



[ethi 



L away aa out wo pass 



cuBainahowthelt 

n.l lalS of oUiera ..„ 

ud how abe loak'iL and wluiL lie 
soJd, 



Again tlie fcBst, tbe speecti, Ibe gl 

ot paaalng thought, the 

id wit. the donble hu 




THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



135 



And last Iho dance ; — till I retire ; 
l>umb Is tbttt tower which spake so 

loud. 
And high in heaven the streaming 
cload. 
And on the downs a rising Are : 

And rise, O nioou, from yonder down 
1111 over down and over dale 
All night the Hhininc vapor sail 

And iranA the silent-ligutcd town, 

The white-faced halls, the glancing 
rills, 
And catch at every mountain head, 
And o'er the friths that branch and 
spread 
Their sleeping silver thro* the hills ; 

And touch wtih shade the bridal doors, 
With tender gloom the roof, the 

WAll ; 
And breaking !et the splendor fall 

To spangle all the happy shores 

By which they rest, and ocean sounds, 
And, star and system rolling past, 
A tioiil shall draw from out the vast 

And strike his being into bounds, 

And, moved thro' life of lower phase, 
liesult in man, be born and think. 
And act and love, a closer link 

Setwixt us and the crowning race 

Of those that, eye to eye, shall ]ook 
On knowledge ; under whoso com- 
mand 
l8 Earth and Earth's, and in their 
hand 
Is Nature like an open book ; 

No longer half-akin to brute. 
For all we thought and loved and 

did, 
And hoped, and snffer'd, is but seed 

Of what in them is Howcr and fruit ; 

Whereof the man, that with me trod 
This planet, was a noble type 
Appearing ere the times were ripe. 

That friend of mine who lives in God, 

That God, which ever lives and loves. 
One God, one law, one element. 
And one far-off divine event, 

To which the whole creation moves. 



THE PMKCESS : A :MEDLEY. 

PROLOGUE. 

Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's 
day 

Ckive his broad lawns until the set of 
sun 

Dp to the people : thither flock'd at 
noon 

His tenants, wife and child, and thith- 
er half 

The neighboring borough with their 
Institute 

Of which he was the patron. I was 
there 



From college, visiting the son, — the 

son 
A Walter too,— with others of our set, 
Five others : we were seven at Vivian- 
place. 

And me that morning Walter show'd 

the hunse, 
Greek, set with busts : from vases in 

the hall 
Flowera of all heavens, and lovelier 

tban their names, 
Grew side by side ; and on the pave- 
ment lay 
Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the 

park. 
Huge Ammonites, and the first bones 

of Time : 
And on the tables every clime and age 
Jumbled together ; celts and calumets, 
Clayniore and snowshoe, toys in lava, 

fans 
Of sandal, ambor, ancient rosaries, 
l^abcrious orient ivory sphere in 

sphere. 
The cur8e<l Malayan crease, and bat- 

tle-olubs 
From the isles of palm : and higher on 

the walls, 
Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk 

and deer. 
His own forefathers' arms and armor 

hung. 

And « this" ho said "was Hugh's at 

Agincourt ; 
And that was old Sir Balph's at Asca- 

lon : 
A good knight he! we keep a chronicle 
With all about him" — which he 

brought, and 1 
Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt 

with knights 
Half -legend, hall-historio. counts and 

Kings 
Who laid about them at their wills and 

died ; 
And mixt with these, a lady, one that 

arm'd 
Her own fair head, and sallying thro* 

the gate. 
Had beat her foes with slaughter from 

her walls. 

**0 miracle of women," said the 

book, 
" O noble heart who, being strait-be- 
sieged 
By this wild king to force her to his 

wish, 
Nor bent, nor broke, nor shuini'd a 

soldier's death. 
But now when all was lost or seem'd 

as lost — 
Her stature more than mortal in the 

burst 
Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on 

fire — 
Brake with a blast of trumpets from 

tho gatC| 



^m 



THE PniyCESS: A SfEDLET. 



And, railing on thsmlike a tfaundet- 

bolt, 
ahB tminnlcil BomebnneslliliPr Uuiaas" 

h«U. 
And eoaie were vlielm'd nitli mlMlIes 

oC Ibe null, 
And »oino were pnBhM wiUi lnnct» 

from Uie toc-k. 
And part were ilrowu'd within Uio 

-\Th1tlLric brook ; 
O miracle oi noble ivomanliood t " 

So uns tbe gallinl; glorleue eiiion- 

And.I mi mpt In tliU, "Como out," 

he tald, 
"To tbe Alibuy : there Ib Aunt EllO' 

beth 
And ■toler Ulla with Uio rest." Ws 

(I kept the book and had ni; Ou^er In 

11) 
Down thro' the pBrk; stmnso was the 

Bight lu me ; 
For >U the Blopliig pnetuia laurmur'd, 

With bapny rocBB and with hoUdtj- 
OChere moved the multitude, u tUon- 

und heads ; 
The patient leaders of their InflUmtn 
Tangbt theoi nith facta. One re 



Pure aport: i 



It of at 

ildpe. 



11 red 



.Dund the ._. 
A little elDck-work 
piled 



m-llko ui 
'n fairy 



before lbs dUBky 

.veuly posts u£ lelt- 
Tliey llaah'd a aaucy mestago to and 
Betnecii the mimic statloua; bo that 
wllb Science ; 



IT bowl-d 



overliead 



of boji with I 

wUket ; bablet rall'd 

I grau ; sad men 

Arranged a country dance, and flew 
thro' light 
Lnd afaadow, while Iho twangllng 

with SoIdler-Iaddle, and 

liBlea of lotli 
Made noise wllh bees and breeze from 

Stranger vas the tight and miacklng 

And long we goxed, but aatlated at 

lenglh 
Camo Id the luJns. High-nrch'd and 

Of finest Oothle lighter thnn a Are, 

Thro- one wide cbaani of Ucde and fmt - 



iBted unalte, ai 

rep-up Bpoat irhercon ibc glldBd 

id like a wisp : and eomiwhat 

knoba and wires and tIbIb 
J 

Eohoanswer'dln her Bleep 
n uouow lielda: and heti) were 

teleftoopea 
azure vlewi ; and there a group of 

slrcfi waited, whom the electiic 
shock 
Qiallnk'd wltb shrlefce and laugbtor: 

paddling 

lilies: peich'd abou 

petty nijwa; 



Annni 



lalden Ai 
1 fair di 
preach' 

real call 

all things g 
Ibier, 



ts ; and tbBce w*a -^ 

ilf, 

ptagtdnst the wall, . 



let; about It Uj the-^ 
Joln'd them : Uien the - 



e for the crowd, 



Of college : he had cllmb'd scroi 

Audbohnd squeeied himself betwiil 

the bare. 
And he had breatb'd the Proclor'a 

DIbcusbM W tutor, tough to common 

Bui bnuejing at the wblHper of a ; 
And one the Master, an a regit 

Teneet'd wllh eancUmonSouB tbeoiT. I 
"- It Willie they Ulk'd, aboye tfiilr 1 

fonim waSor l»dy-c1«d ] wliirt | 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



3ff 7 book to miad : and opening this I 

rtaA 
Of old Sir Balph a page or two that 

rang 
"With tilt and tourney ; then the tale 

of her 
That drove her foes with slaughter 

from her walls. 
And much I praised her nobleness, and 

"Where." 
Ask'd Walter, patting Lilians head (she 

lay 
Beside him) ** lives there such a woman 

now?" 

Quick answer*d Lilia "There ore 

thousands now 
&uch women, but convention beats 

them down : 
It is but bringing up ; no more than 

tiiat : 
You men have done it : how I hate you 

aUI 
Ah, were I somethhig great ! I wish I 

were 
Some mighty poetess, I would shame 

you then, 
That love to keep us children I O I 

wish 
That I were some great princess, I 

would build 
Far off from men a college like a 

man*s, 
And I would teach them all that men 

are taught ; 
Wa are twice as quick ! " And here 

she shook aside 
The hand that play'dthe patron with 

her curls. 

And one said smiling " Pretty were 

the sight 
If our old haus could change their sex, 

and flaunt 
With prudes for proctors, dowagers 

for deans. 
And sweet girl-graduates in their gold- 
en hJEdr. 
I think they should not wear our rusty 

gowns. 
But move as rich as Emperor-moths, 

or Balph 
Who shines so in the corner ; yet I 

fear, 
If there were many lillas in the brood. 
However deep you might embower the 

nest, 
Some boy would spy it." 

At this upon the sward 
Bhe tapt her tiny silken-sandal'dfoot : 
" That's your light way ; but I would 

make it oeath 
For any male thing but to peep at us." 

Petulant phe spoke, and at herself 

she laugh'd ; 
A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, 
And sweet as English air could make 

her, she : 
But Walter hail'd a score of names 

upon her, 



137 
"and "ungrateful 



And " petty Ogress, 
Puss." 

And swore he long*d at coll^;e, only 
long'd. 

All else was well, for she-society. 

They boated and they cricketed; they 
talk*d 

At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics : 

They lost their weeks ; they vext liie 
souls of deans ; 

They rode ; they betted ; mode a hun- 
dred friends, 

And caught the blossom of the flying 
terms. 

But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian- 
place, 

The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus 
he spoke. 

Part banter, part affection. 

" True," she said, 

" Wo doubt not that. O yes, you miss'd 
us much. 

I *11 stake my ruby ring upon it you 
did." ' 

She held it out; and as a parrot 

turns 
Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving eye. 
And takes a lady's linger with idf care, 
And bites it for true heart and not for 

harm. 
So he with Lilia's. Daintily she 

shriek'd ' 

And wrung it. "Doubt my word 

again ! " he said. 
" Come, listen I here is proof that you 

were miss'd : 
Wo seven stay'd at Christmas up to 

read; 
And there we took one tutor as to read; 
The hard-giain'd Muses of the cube 

and square 
Were out of season: never man, I 

think. 
So moulder'd in a sinecure as he : 
For while our cloisters echo'd frosty 

feet, 
And our long walks were stript as bare 

as brooms, 
We did but talk you over, pledge you 

all 
In wassail ; often, like as many girls- 
Sick for the hollies and the yows of 

home — 
As many little trifling Lilias — plavM 
Charades and riddles as at Christmas 

here. 
And tokaVs my thonrjht and when and 

where and Afttr, 
And often told a tale from mouth to 

mouth 
As here at Christmas." 

She remember'd that* 
A pleasant game, she thought : she 

liked it more 
Than magic music, forfeits, all the 

rest. 
But these— what kind of tales did men 

tell men. 
She wonder'd, b^ IhemscVrt'!*'*. 



TnE PPjyCESS : A MEDLLY. 



A luar-dladsln 



pBKliM mi ilio poutfd 


Uowi 


a of 


And Wnllar 
ThB teit wo 

Chimtroi. c; 

Tlmobj-lUB 
Tlio lyratit !_ 


lortded Mmei 

M follow, OBCh 

HTfntoW .loiy 


i 


SJ^t.. 


Chrlnn 


u « 




nuida 


re in »l 
illl blm 


luUie 


l^m 



From II 

To glTo lu brcaUUng-ipice." 
Inii tlio rest Tollaw'd : uulUicB 

O lOUghCZ TOi«I o 

«o(ilic*liut= 



Uke I in 



Il«mli 






Ilea bene 



Wallerwarp'ilhU month Willis 
To •onaUilnff io ioock4oluiuii, tliai I 

Uugli'd. 
Axd Ullii woko vrith suddeD-nbriUing 

mlrtb 
AnaeholIkD n pboatlT wDOlpackFr. 
Hid in U)B luliia : tlU Iha luaiJen 
(A lltOe ieniB of wrong bad loucb'il 
TVltli eoloT) tnrn'd to mo with "M 

irorola ft you wiil, or whnt you will. 
Or bByoimall your bero it you will," 

"Take I.llla. (hen, tor horoina" 

"And rottkeber some great rrinccas. 

ill feet blgb. 
fliana, Bplo, bomicIJEl ; nnd bo you 
TbBPrfnff'-- ■ 



"Tben lollon 
'and'y. 



:b 1)0 hen 
c, lilio i 



B, tlio 1 



Herolo s 



■ PllUf 



But Hmetlilng mada to suit wllb Tlm< 

«id place, 
A GnUilo mill and a Grecian hnntn. 
A talk nt colloae and o[ ladles' ligliW, 
A feudal knight In silken niBRqiierode 

Tor wbleb the gnod Sir Eolph bad 

Tlili nvrn a medley 1 we should havo 

blm bark 
\lTio told tile ■ Winter's tale " lo do it 

for UB. 
No nianer ; we will say wliatever 



3 ladlEi sing u 



( Ibey 



«nd beie 1 



nfas 



igl-b^ ol 3 



1, blae-eyeil, and Wrr 
I Uio Cut 



Ot Icm 

Wtih leiigilik ot yellow ri; 
Foe on my tmdle ehono ilia Korl 
There llveil an ancient legend li 
afnr-oll g; 



el re burnt 
UBO I.e caat i 



KyinE, t 



Eluidow, had Ir 
ot nil our bli 



Should ec 



lo fan. 



■om the snbii lance 
iSgbtnilliBliadan 
: »sld. the s' 






ad, truly, waking dreJiaia were, more 

a old and itrange aOection of Ibe 

Myaolf loo bail weird ael^urcB, Hearea 

On a sodden In Uie midst of men lud 

And wblle'i walk'd and lalk'd aabeco- 

tofore, 
I Bcom'd to mOTo among ft world ot 

And feel myself Uio shadow ot s 

Our great eonrt-Galen poleed hla gill- 

And pow'd blB beard, wid mullat'd 
" caUlepsj." 
her pitying mado a tliou»Ud 



™J,'S' 



I^affi^-a'oi 
ciouBwai her tact and lemlei 
r good father tliought a king i 
red not for l^a allcctioti of Itaa 
1 hiB sceptre Ilk e a pedant's 1 



ibe 
For Judgnii 



. loug ai 
i oCenden tnaa J 



TUE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



139 



Kow it chanced that I had been. 
While life was yet in bad and bladB» 

betroth'd 
To one, a neighboring Pxlncess : die 

tome 
Was proxy - wedded with a bootless 

calf 
At eight years old ; and still from time 

to time 
Came murmurs of her beauty from the 

South, 
And of her brethren, youths Of puis- 
sance; 
And still I wore her picture by my 

heart, 
And one dark tress ; and all around 

them both 
Sweet thoughts would swarm as bees 

about their queen. 

But when the days drew nigh that I 

should wed, 
My father sent ambassadors with furs 
And jewels, gifts, to fetch her : these 

brought back 
A present, a great labor of the loom ; 
And therewithal an answer vague as 

wind : 
Besides, they saw the king ; he took 

the gifts ; 
He said there was a compact ; that was 

true : 
But then she had a will ; was he to 

blame ? 
And maiden fancies; loved to live 

alone 
Among her women; certain, would 

not wed. 

That morning in the presence room 

I stood 
With Cyril and with Florian, my two 

friends : 
The first, a gentleman of broken 

means 
(His father's fault) but given to starts 

and bursts 
Of revel ; and the last, my other heart, 
Imost n: 

moved 



And almost my half-seli, for still wo 



1?; 



Together, twinn*d as horse's ear and 
eye. 

Kow^ while they spake, I saw my 

father's face 
Grow long and troubled like a rising 

moon, 
Inflamed with wrath; he started on 

his feet, 
Tore the king's letter, snow'd it down, 

and rent 
The wonder of the loom thro' warp 

and woof 
From skirt to skirt ; and at the last he 

Bware 
That he would send a hundred thou. 

sand men, 
And bring her in a whirlwind : then 

he chew'd 
The thrice-tnm'd cud of wrath, and 

cook'd his spleen. 



Communing with his captains of the 
war. 

At last I spoke. *' My father, let me 

go. 
It cannot be but some gross error lies 
In this report, this answer of a king, 
Whom all men rate as kind and hospi- 

table : 
Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once 

seen, 
Whate'er my grief to find her less than 

fame. 
May rue the bai^ain made." And Flo- 

rian eaia : 
'* I have a sister at the foreign court, 
Who moves about the Princess ; she, 

you know. 
Who wedded with a nobleman from 

thence : 
He, dying lately, left her, as I hear, 
The lady of three castles in that land : 
Thro' her this matter might be sifted 

clean." 
And Cyril whisper'd : " Take me with 

you too." 
Then laughing ** what, if these weird 

seizures come 
Upon you in those lands, and no one 

near 
To point you out the shadow from the 

truth! 
Take me : I'll serve you better in a 

strait ; 
I grate on rusty hinges here : " but 

"No!" 
Roar'd the rough king, "you shall not; 

we ourself 
Will crush hrer pretty maiden fancies 

dead 
In iron gauntlets : break the council 

up." 

But when the council broke, I rose 

and past 
Thro' the wild woods that hung about 

the town ; 
Found a still place, and pluck'd her 

likeness out ; 
Laid it on flowers, and watch'd it lying 

bathed 
In the green gleam of dewy-tassell'd 

trees : 
What were those fancies ? wherefore 

break her troth? 
Proud look'd the lips : but while I 

meditated 
A wind arose and rush'd upon the 

South, 
And shook the songs, the whispers, 

and the shrieks 
Of the wild woods together ; and a 

Voice 
Went with it, *' Follow, follow, thou 

Shalt win." 

Then, ere the silver sickle of that 
month 
Became her golden shield, I stole from 
court 






Willi llol from tone ^sy-vLnliaw 

«1iHka the nlRht; 
But lU was quiet : Icom ihe baatloiiM 

walls 
lika tlireadeil spidora, oiie liy oue, we 

Aud IlyliiK reocli'd Hid froatier ; tlien 

ToaltTeUerlandi and no by liltb aiid 

And Tlnei, ami blowlug bmlii of wll- 

^0 Ealii'd tJio 'iiiother*lty thick with 

Uuil 111 the Imperial palace found tbe 
S king, 

BU niTDB WBi Qama: cmck'd and 
■mall his rnlc«, 

Snt bluid the amlla that llko a wrink- 
ling wind 

On glaity water dnne Lit cheek In 

A lltde dry o\d man, without a Etar, 
Sot like a king : tinea duyu he [eailed 



Ll"1imror!''Vo'iem< 



Long auinmen back, a kind ot 

I Uilnk the year in which our c 

fall'd, 
I would ynii had her, Prince, wit 

■With my full heart : but there 

wldewi here. 
Two widows. Lady Psycho, Lady 

Blanche ; 
Tb«7 fed her theorin, in and o 

Maintaining that wllh equal tin 

^ ^'^ ,. .V 

ThB woman were an equsl to the 
They liarp'il <"> Uili ; with this om 

quats rang ; 
Our donees broke and bau'd in 



To hear Oitm : knowledge, i 



» awful, nue, to wluU Ibej taiaMt 
It all she Is and does la awful : nte* 

lid dismal lyriea. prnnheaytng c^bangt 
dyoud nil RHOii 1 thede tlie wodbu 

lid lliey Ihat know aneb thlogs— 1 

j?y mastered mo. At last ahe begg'^l 
certain auiame^palaco which 1 ha^i 



Not ev'n 


ec brolher 


Arac, 


nor the 


Bor brethren, Iho- (hey love li 
Pardon me saying it) were mu 


er. look 
chloalb 



Diapule betwixt myself and n 
(And I «ontet« with right) y 



can give you leltera W 



And yet, to speak the trui 

Almost Dt naked nothing 

■il 

And I, Iho' nettled that 

^Vlth gamiloua eaae am) oil 

Bat chaflng me on fire 1 

bride) 
'Went forth analn with both 

Many a lona league back to 



B the kini 



We dropt with e 



ning o 



: tliey most lose the child, 
: then, Sir, awtul odes >1 



enter'd nii bid hostel, eall'j 
mine host 
ncil, piled him with Ills richesl 

ow'd Ihs lal«-wtlt lettois of Uio 

king. 

1th 8 long low slbllation. siarrt 
ik as death In marble ; then e>- 
olnim'd 
ng it tvos clear i^aluf tall nil« 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



141 



For any man to go : bat aa his brain 
Bcigan to mellow, ** If the king,*' he 

Klid, 

** Had given us letters, was he bound 

to speak? 
The king would bear him out ; " and at 

the last— 
Hie summer of the Tine in all his 

veins — 
"No doubt that we might make it 

worth his while. 
She once had past that way ; he heard 

her speak ; 
She scared him ; life ! he never saw 

the like ; 
She look'd as grand as doomsday and 

as grave : 
And he, he reverenced his liege-lady 

there ; 
He always made a point to post with 

mares ; 
His daughter and his housemaid were 

uie boys : 
Tlie land, he imderstood, for miles 

about 
Was tiird by women ; all the swine 

were sows. 
And all the dogs " — 

But while he jested Ihus, 
A thought flash'd thro' me which I 

clothed in act, 
Bemembering how we three presented 

Maid 
Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of 

feast, 
In masque or pageant at my father's 

court. 
TVe sent mine host to purchase female 

gear: 
Ue brought it, and himself, a sight to 

shake 
The midriff of despair with laughter, 

holp 
To lace us up, till, each, in maiden 

Slumes 
Bd : him we gave a costly bribe 
To guerdon silence, mounted our good 

steeds, 
And boldly ventured on the liberties. 

We follow*d up the river as we rode, 
And rode till midnight when the col- 
lege lights 
B^an to glitter Arefly-like in copse 
And linden alley : then we past an 

arch. 
Whereon a woman -statue rose with 

wings 
From four wing'd horses dark against 

the stars ; 
And some inscription ran along the 

front, 
But deep in shadow : further on wo 

gain*d 
A Uttle street half garden and half 

house; 
Bat scarce eould hear each other speak 

for noise 
Of clock and chimes, like silver ham- 

mer3 fallins 



On silver anvils, and the splash and 
stir 

Of fountains spouted up and showering 
down 

In meshes of the jasmine and the rose: 

And all about us peal'd the nightin- 
gale, 

Ilapt in her song, and careless of the 
snare. 

There stood a bust of Pallas for a 

sign. 
By two sphere lamps blazon'd like 

Heaven and Earth 
With constellation and with continent, 
Above an entry : riding in, we caird : 
A plump-arm'd Ostleress and a stable 

wench 
Came running at the call, and help*d 

us down. 
Then stept a buxom hostess forth, zz\t\. 

sail'd. 
Full - blown, before us into rooms 

which cave 
Upon a pillar'd porch, the bases lost 
In laurel : her we ask'd of that and 

this, 
And who were tutors. " Lady Blanche** 

she said, 
" And Lady Psyche.** " Which was 

prettiest, 
Best-natured ? '* ** Lady Psyche.** 

" Hers are we,'* 
One voice, we cried ; and I sat down 

and wrote, 
In such a hand as when a field of com 
Bows all its ears before the roaring 

East; 

" Three ladles of the Northern em- 
pire pray 

Your Highness would enroll them with 
your own. 

As Lady Psyche's pupils.** 

This I seal'd : 

The seal was Cupid bent above a 
scroll^ 

And o'er his head TJranion Venus 
hunc, 

And raised the blinding bandage from 
his eyes : 

I gave the letter to be sent with dawn; 

And then to bed, where hcif in doze I 
seem'd 

To float about a glimmering night, and 
watch 

A full sea glazed with muflled moon- 
light, swell 

On some dark shore just seen that it 
was rich. 



As thro* the land at eve we went, 
And pluck'd the ripen'd eait). 

We fell out, my wife and I. 

O we fell out I know not why. 
And kiss'd again with tears. 

And blessings on the falling out 
That all the more endears. 

When we fall out with those we Inrp 




THE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



And tin igaln with Icon I 



Wa klM'd Dgitlu irltli lean. 



At IireBlc of da; Uie Colloge Portress 



The 111 



B lu rich u motbg tram i 
Li'taeyliig LcrDbelHUire, le 
I Ida waited: oatn-epn 



AH rotuid Bllh fiiBrel, tsn 
CompBcC with lueld luiL 

Willi lengths 
Of clusle f rlsie, vlUi ui 

Betwlit^'SiB plTlara. and 
nma of Ilowevn. 

The Unxea oiid the tirade 
throes, 

Sorine'd a blUowlns foa 
-'■'at; 

Hnd theie on : 



There at aboaid by lomo and pi 
„ eat, 

With two tAme leoparda izouchM be 

her UiroiiB 
All beanty tuiupnsa'd in n famale t' 
The PiliiDoBB ; Itker to tlie luhablu 

a ^t^ew p a r O50 u 

n ouc man's earth ; irath ejea i 

111 her head, 
1 Bo much grace and power* brc 

m over her arch'd bron-e. ' 

UmdOito-XrlQlhe tips o£ lior 



s round 
ipvrtth 



\/- 



^ ! are iJia ladies of your 
U117'' 
"WooIthocourfsaldCyril. ' 



ler'd, _■' then ya know tha 
run of his age 1 oa tho' Ibtn 
■Id. your High 
' -. ahHTflplie*: 



Ho worrfitpB yoar Ideal 
" We irarr«ly thought 



-DhaU 
unong 

light coin, tho tiiiBBl clink of eompli- 
Your fll^t from out jont booklaM 
As arguing loye of Iniowledga and of 
Vour laiiEuage proves you itUl ilia 
Wo dream tiot eC him : whsn we get 
To this great work, we purposed wlUi 
KcTer to wed. Ton UhowiBs will do 
Ladles, lii enterhia hero, to 

The tiirkB. which moke us tova uf mi-n 

that BO, ■^ ^ 

Somo tutjiro Ume, if so indeed yon 

Yon may with than eeltHttyled ou 

Your fortunes, {ualUer baluiced, ualfl 

with ica^." 

At those Liah words, we coQBcioiu g( 



( 



Hose up. and re 



^r height, 
t without 



I correspond with 

cross the llher- 

lo speak with anjr 

iich hastily sub- 

ihe boards : and "Xow" 

Eraeii wood, see ye waip not. 
— '- —hall I 

of tboBe that men 






Look 






e Sabine bow to rule. 

The fDUiidtHs ot tho Babylonian mlL 
Thu farian Artemisia sttona 111 war. 
The lUiodnpe. tlut huitc the nynimlil, 
rlelia. Cornelia, wltli Ibe filmmM 
That f ought Anrellan, and the BmdUI 

Ot Agiiapiiia. Dwell'willi Ui«e, ind 

Conyenttoii, slnca to looli on uobU 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



148 



ltak€8 noble thro' the lexuiaoiis orgaiu 
ism 

That which is higher. O lift your na- 
tures up : 

Embrace our aims: work out your 
freedom. GirlSt 

Knowledge is now no more a fountain 
s^*d : 

Drink deep, until the habits of the 
slave, 

The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite 

And slander, die. Better not be at all 

Thau not be noble. Leave us: you 
may go : 

To-day the I^y Psycho will harangue 

The fresh arrivala of the week before ; 

For thev press i!i from all the prov- 
inces. 

And fill th« hive." 

She spoke, and bowing waved 

Dismissal: back again we croet the 
court 

To Lady Psvche's : as we enter'd in. 

There sat along the forms, like morn- 
ing doves 

That sun their milky bosoms on the 
thatch, 

A patient range of pupils ; she herself 

Erect behind a desk of satin-wood, 

A quick brunette, well-moulded, fal- 
con-eyed. 

And on the hither side, or so she 
look'd. 

Of twenty summers. At her left, a 
child. 

In 8hininffdrai>erie8, headed like a star, 

Her maiden babe, a double April old, 

AglaXa slept, we sat: the Lady 
glanced : 

Then FK>rian; but no livelier than the 
dame 

That whisperM '* Asses' ears " among 
the sedge. 

* My sister." •• Comely too by all that's 
fair" 

BaidCyiil. " O hush, hush 1 " and she 
began. 

<« This world was once a fluid haze 

of light. 
Till toward the centre set the starry 

tides. 
And eddied into suns, that wheeling 

cast 
The planets : then the monster, then 

the man; 
Tattoo'd or woaded, winter-clod in 

skins. 
Haw from the prime, and crushing 

down his mate ; 
As yet we find in barbarous isles, and 

here 
/,mn«g the lowest." 

Thereupon she took 
A bird's-eye- view of all the ungracious 

past : 
Qlancedat the iM^endanr Amazon 
As emblematic of a nobler age ; 
Appraised the Lycian custom, spoke 

of those 



That lay at wine with Lar and Lucumo ; 
liau down the Persian, Grecian, lto> 

roan lines 
Of empire, and the woman's state in 

each, 
How far from just; till warming with 

her theme 
She ful mined out her scorn of law 

Salique 
And little-footed China, touch'd on 

Mahomet 
With much contempt, and came to 

chivalry : 
When some respect, however slight, 

was paid 
To woman, superstition all awry : 
However Uien commenced the dawn : 

abeam 
Had slanted forward, falling in a land 
Of promise ; fruit would follow. Deep, 

indeed. 
Their debt of thanks to her who first 

had dared 
To leap the rotten pales of prejudice, 
Disyoke their necks from cuutom, and 

assert 
None lordlier than themselves but that 

which made 
Woman and man. She had founded ; 

they must build. 
Here might they learn whatever men 

were taught : 
Let them not fear: some said their 

heads were less : 
Some men's were small ; not they the 

least of men ; 
For often fineness compensated size : 
Besides the brain was like the hand, 

and grew 
With using ; thence the man's, if more 

was more ; 
He took advantage of his strength to 

be 
First in the field : some ages had been 

lost; 
But woman ripen'd earlier, and her life 
Was longer ; and albeit their glorious 

names 
Were fewer, scatter' d stars, yet since 

in truth 
The highest is the measure of the man. 
And not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, 
Nor those horn-handed breakers of the 

glebe, 
But Homer, Plato, Verulam ; even so 
With woman : and in arts of govern- 
ment 
Elizabeth and others ; arts of war 
The peasant Joan and others ; arts of 

grace 
Sappho and others vied with any man : 
And, last not least, she who had left 

her place. 
And bow'd her state to them, that they 

mieht grow 
To use and power on this Oasis, lapt 
In the arms of leisure, sacred from the 

blight 
Of ancient Infiueno^ a&dttaoxik. 



h 




m 



THE. PniNCESS! A 31EDLEY. 



■a Iwiide the 

ITwo In ilie Ungled liueiiieu of the 

Two in tbe tlberal oilicea of lite, 

Two plummBU dropt fur une to aoiind 

Of idence, Bud tiie KCKtl of the 

UiulclBii, palDter, nuJptoi, ciltlc, 

And BTBtvwhero tJiobroadand boun- 

leuM Eanli 
ShouliI bear a duuble growlh of Ihoge 

f oets, who^s tboughti oniicb the blood 

She cndeil boro, and beOcou'd us ; 

Parted ; mil, plowing (ull-lMcd wel- 

Benn to iHldtEBS Bi.ftniJwaaino¥Jngon 
m ««lul»tl(.il. till M wlien ■ boat 
TackB, HUd tbe ulaokeu'd eUl Usps, all 

FaltflrinK aiid fintlerlug lu her throat, 

" My brotJier I " " Well, mj Elster." 

" TVluil do you liero 1" and In thta dtaw? 

■Why who are tlieie ? > woll wUUlii the 

A pack of wolVBA ! the Lonl bo ^n^ 

Anlot, a plot, a plot, to rain alt I" 
" Ko plot, no plot," he auewef'd. 
" wretched boy, 



" And It I bad" ho aniwet'd " who 
could think 

O liner, SiieiH Iho' they be, waro siich 
Ai cliantiid on the blauchlng bones of 

mcB ? " 
" But JFOU will find It othocwiM" Bhe 

■Bid. 
■' Ton Jest : 111 Jesting with edga-ioola 1 

Blada roe to ipeak, and O (list Iron 

win, '^ 
ThBt Bielike iideo untuntubte, oni 

Head, 
Tie Princess." " Well than, Psyche, 

lake my lite, 
And tiBil me like a weoBel on a eninge 
Por warning ; bury ma beside Iba gate. 
And cat this eplUph aboTS my bones ; 



ceive it; 



le behold Um 
, for beie aht ■ 



To tlie Lady Ida : bei 
And thus (what other way was 1 
" O Sir, O P'risce, I have Iio cou 
If any. this; but none. WliaU 
Disrooted, whBt I am li eraf Inl h 

Wilhlu tblB vestul limit, and bow 

should I. 
Who ani not mine, gay, !iv»; tbe llii 

derbolt 
Hanga silent 1 but prepare; I speak | 

" ret panae." I naid ; 

sarlptlon there, 
I think no iDore of deadly ] 

therein. _ 

Than In a clapper clapping in B gnrllbfl 
To scare the fowl floni fruit : ll m^3 

thare be, —^ 

If more and acted on, what toIlomQ 

Your uwii work marr'd : fo 

Acscleiiia. 
Wlilchevec side be Victor. In 
Will topple to tbe ItusipBt 

With all fair theories oni] 

A slomileaa aumipe-." " Tja llin P 

MMJudec V 

Oflhafsbesaid: ■■ farewell Bli^-an*. I 



liaildarat tbeaeque 






" Are yon that lady Psydui " 

" The fuTi"!!.' Una from that ol> 

Florinn, 
Yet hangs hla portrait lu my tallier' 

(Tbe gaunt old Barou wlib his beett 

San-ebaded in the heat of dusty ttgblri 
As lie bestrode my (imudsira, when Iw 

And all else fied ; wo point to 

Tbe loyal warmth of Florianl*notcnld..J 
But branches eurmnt yet fu kli]df««J| 

" Are you that Psyche " Florian addeAa 

With whom I BBng about the momlB 

una, 

Flung hall, flew kite, knd 

And mared the iqnlml of tb* £l«a fl 

That Psyche, wnnt to bind ny It 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



145 



To fmooth my pillow, mix the foam- 
ing draught 
Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and 

read 
ICy sickness down to happy dreams ? 

are you 
That brother -sister Psyche, both in 

one? 
You were that Psyche, bnt what are 

you now ? " 
•• You are that Psyche," Cyril said, 

" for whom 
I would be that for ever which I seem, 
Woman, if I might sit beside your feet. 
And glean your scatter'd sapience." 

Then onoe more, 
** Are you that Lady Psyche " I began, 
** That on her bridal mom before she 

past 
From all her old companions, when 

the king 
Kis8*d her pa^ cheek, declared that 

ancient ties 
Would still be dear beyond the south- 
em hills ; 
That were there any of our people there 
In want or peril, there was one to hear 
And help them : look ! for such are 

these and I." 
" Are you that Psyche " Florian ask'd 

*' to whom, 
In gentler dayi, your arrow-wounded 

fawn 
Came flying while you sat beside the 

The creature laid Ids muzzle on your 

lap, 
And Boblrd, and you sobb'd with it, 

and the blood 
Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you 

wept. 
That was fawn's blood, not brother's, 



yet you wept. 
« br&: ■ - 



O by tiie bright head of my little niece, 
Tou were uat Psyche, and what are 

you now ? *' 
*<Yoa are that Psyche" Cyril said 

ac^n, 
** The mother of the sweetest little 

maid. 
That erer crow'd for kisses." 

•• Out upon it ! " 
She answer'd, " peace ! and why should 

I not play 
nie Spartan Mower with emotion, be 
The Lucius Junius Brutus of mv kind ? 
Ulm you call great : he for the com- 
mon weal, 
The fading politics of mortal Home, 
As I mi j^t slay this child, if good need 

were. • 
Slew both his ions : and I, shall I, on 

whcHn 
The secular emancipation turns 
Of hidf this world, be swerved from 

ri^t to save 
A prinoe, a brother? a little will I 

yield. 
Bart fo. perchance, for us, and Tell 

niiryon. 



O hard, when love and duty clash ! I 
fear 

My conscience will not count me fleck« 
less ; yet — 

Hear my conditions : promise (other- 
wise 

You perish) as you came, to slip away, 

To-day, to-morrow, soon : it shall be 
said, 

These women were too barbarous, 
would not learn ; 

They fled, who niiffht have shamed us: 
promise, aU.*' 



»* 



What could we else, wo promised 

each ; and she, 
Like some wild creature newly-caged, 

commenced 
At to-and-fro, so pacing till she paused 
By Florian ; nol<ung out her lily arnu 
Took both ms hands, and smiling faint 

ly said : 
*' 1 knew you at the first : tho* youhavo 

grown 
You scarce have alter'd : I am sad and 

glad 
To see you, Florian. / give thee to 

death 
My brother ! it was duty spoke, not I. 
My needful seeming harshness, pardon 

it. 
Our mother, is she well ? " 

With tliat she kiss'd 
His forehead, then, a moment after, 

clung 
About him, and betwixt them bloa* 

som'd up 
From out a common vein of memory 
Sweet household talk, and phrases of 

the hearth. 
And far allusion, ull the gracious dews 
Began to glisten and to fall : and while 
They stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a 

voice, 
" I brought a message here from Lady 

Blanche." 
Back started she, and turning round 

we saw 
The Lady Blanche's daughter where 

she stood, 
Melissa, with her hand upon the lock, 
A rosy blonde, and in a college gown, 
That clad her like an April daffodilly 
(Her mother's color) with ner lips apar^ 
And all her thoughts as fair within her 

eyes, 
As bottom agates seen to wave and 

float 
In crystal currents of clear morning 

seas. 

So stood that same fair creature at 
the door. 

Then Lady Psyche <' Ah— Melissa ~' 
you ! 

You heard us ?" and Melissa, ** O par- 
don me : 

I heard, I could not help it, did not 
wish: 

But, dearest Lady, pray you fear ma 
not, 



THE PBiyCESSA MEDLEY. 



irlMulil beartluit lie&rt wltliln m; 
I giYfl Utrea gallant eentlsmen to 
[ trust JCJU" »^d tlia other "foe we 

Were alwavj friondB, iions clotor, elm 

and vine : 
Sut yet your moUur'a jealoui temper- 
Let not your prudoncc, cJearetttj dtowBe, 

The Danal'd of a leak j Taae, lor lesr 
TLtB wbole (ouiidattaii rulii. aiid 1 lose 

Bepllad Meliasa " do— T vould not toll, 

No, not for all Aspnsla's tlKveruess, 

'^''\, iiot to auB^er, Madam, all tlioAe 

hai'd things 

lat Sbeba crunfi to flak of Solomon," 

Je it so" the other "that wa BLlll 

\» new nght up, and colmlnata hi 

ir Solomon may come to Sheba yot." 
id Cyril ■' MBifam, he the wtMit man 



ion K ue, debtor! (i 
lelf far aomethhit 

f'ThanlH," ahei 

have been tc 

Together : keep you: 

They do «o that nfTec 
Speik little : luli u 

juidbold 
Yotir promise; all,I 



child. 
And held her round the lEnec* agnlnit 

hlairalal, [peler, 

1 blew the s«oll'n eheek of n tiiim- 
ilB Psyche wacCb'd tUeni, amlling. 



And thUB our u>nlere 
ir half the day thro 



e Frofeator. On the lecture 
s rounded under f einiUe bands 



Bj violet-hooded Tocti 



And quoted odes, and jewels D< 
That on ths streti^'d forefinser of 

TilUB * 

SpaciUe for erer : then we dipt in 
That treats ot wbalsoever Is, tliesle 
The total chronlclea Dt man, Iba mli 
Tlie uiurule, somethluii aC Uie frau 

the rock, 
The Biar, the bird, the flib, the BhalL . 

the dower, ^' 

Electrlo, ehemlc luwB, and all the rest, 
And whatsoever can be tongbC uid 

TUl like tliree ion^ that hare broken 

fenqe, 
And glutted nil nlglit long hreaolHiBep 

Wo issued gorged wIOi knowledge, and 

" Why, Sira, tbey do nil lUi. 

"They hunt old trails- said Cyia 

Butwhemll/wo 



ar^etlnva 



No n 



it tnlk'd 






The Iraali that made mo ^elc, and 

almost Bad ■.'" 
" O trash " he said " but with a kernel 
Should 1 not call her wise, who 
And learnt? I learnt more from het 



Than if 






Wltlime.Sir,entar'diiithebiMerliov. ' 
The Head of all thagoldeii-rfiafted hr" 
The lung-llmb'd lad that bad a Paye 



He cleft me thro' tlx 
^That think you o£ II, Fi( 



BtomAclier ; and 



Ko glioBtly huntings like Wa Hisll- 

Flntter myself that always ererywh 
1 know the BUbBtance wbeu I see 

Well, 
Are ciutlo ehadowe 7 Throe ot tbei 

iBshe 
The Bwect proprietress a shadow 1 

Shall tbuee three caBIleB potcb my 1 



\ 



TUE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



147 



JV>r dear ore those three castlee to my 

wants, 
^nd dear is sister Psyche to my heart, 
Aiid two dear tliiugs are one of double 

worth. 
And much 1 might have said, but that 

iny zone 
TJnmanu'd me : then the Doctors ! O 

to hear 
The Doctors ! O to watch the thirsty 

plants 
Imbibing ! ouce or twice I thought to 

roar, 
To break my chain, to shake my mane: 

but thou, 
Modulate me. Soul of mincing mim- 
icry 1 
Make liquid tremble of that bassoon, 

my throat ; 
Abase those eyes that ever loved to 

meet 
StarHBisters answering under crescent 

brows ; 
Abate the stride, which speaks of man, 

and loose 
A flying chami of blushes o*er this 

cheek, 
TVliere they like swallows coming out 

of time 
TTill wonder why they come ; but hark 

the bell 
For dinner, let us go ! " 

And in we stream'd 
Among the columns, pacing staid and 
•^still »*'*^» 

By twos and threes, till all from end 

to end 
T^'ith beauties every shade of brown 

and fair 
Tn colors gayer than the morning mist, 
The lonff hall glitter'd like a bed of 

flowers. 
How might a mxm not wander from 

Ids wits 
Pierced thro' with eyes, but that I 

kept mine own 
Intent on her, who rapt in glorious 

dreams, 
The second-sisht of some Astrsean age, 
Sat compass'd with professors ; they, 

the while. 
Discussed a doubt and tost it to and 

fro: 
A clamor thicken'd, mizt with inmost 

terms 
Of art and science: Lady Blanche 

alone 
Of faded form and haughtiest linea- 
ments, 
With all her autumn tresses falsely 

brown. 
Shot sidelong daggers at us, a tiger- 
cat 
In act to spring. 

At last a solemn grace 
Concluded, and we sought the gardens: 

tber« 
One walk*d xedting by herself, and 

one 
In this hand held a volume as to read, 



And smoothed a petted peacock down 

with that : 
Some to a low song oar'd a shallop b}> 
Or under arches of the marble biidge 
Hung, ^hadow'd from the heat : some 

hid and sought 
In tho orange thickets : others tost a 

ball 
Above the fountain-jets, oi.d back 

again 
With laughter : others lay about the 

lawns. 
Of tho older sort, and murmur*d that 

their Mav 
Was passing : what was learning unto 

them? 
They wish'd to marry ; they could rule 

a bouse ; 
Men hated learned women : but we 

three 
Sat muflied like the Fates ; and often 

cnmo 
Melissa hitting all we saw with shafts 
Of gentle satire, kin to charity. 
That harm'd not : then day droopt ; 

the chapel bells 
CoU'd us : we left the walks ; we mixt 

with those 
Six hundred maidens clad in purest 

white. 
Before two streams of light from wall 

to wall. 
While the great organ almost burst his 

pipes, 
Groaniuff for power, and rolling thro' 

the court 
A long melodious thunder to the sound 
or solemn psalms, and silver litanies. 
The work of Ida, to call down from 

Heaven 
A blessing on her labors for the world. 



Sweet and low, sweet and low. 

Wind of the western sea. 
Low. low. breathe and blow. 

Wind of the western sea 1 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, and blow. 

Blow him aeain to me ; 
While my litUe one, while my pretty 
one, sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Rest, rest, on mother's breast. 
Father will come to thee soon : 

Father will come to his babe in the 
nest. 

Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon : 

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty 
one, sleep. 

ni. 

MottN in the white wake of the mom* 

ing star 
Came furrowing all the orleut txvta 

cold. 



TUE PRINCESS ; A MEDLEY. 



)rsriar, 



Idle wa Blood betdde thi 

nt. Biiil HOtfli'd 

□ wn tell tha dancing bubblD 

igad Willi wsn Eroin lack o 

111 glowing connd her dsw] 



Mjr motaer biiairi :" aadwhenlask'i 
" My fault " rte wept ■' my fault 1 am 
Yat mlnB In part. O heap ine, panloi 
Jrtj molheir, ' t la bac wont from nigLt b 



iilgiit 



' elde. 



But Lady Piycha wM the ilgbl; liiu 



Audeo last iiight slie tell to caiivosa 



wll2il]i rej 



' O marvBllouBly modest maiden, yi 
Meii 1 airli, liSe man I why, 1( t: 

Vou need not set your tliougbts lu 



For wlioleMle 

am iban 
That I miui oe 



: lonka so little snicetul : ' men ' 

(Cor Btlll 
""■ n I re*ol vineontheword) 





Then came theee d. 

o.ia by one, 
■ Why — theao— are— men 

dar'd: 'and you kn 
'Oask menothlng,' I iniJ : 'Aj 



JB truth at ones, bat with no word 
ad uow tliua early risen she goes to 
IS PrlncBBi: Lady Psychs niU b« 
It you may yat be saved, and there- 
it heal mu with jonr pardon ere you j 



BO." 



" What pardon, 

bmah?" 

Said Cyril; "Pale 



iC Mali 



mi«,"bBiter blUBh our li' 
It ud breathe for one hour mi 
Idad, "leet some elaaalc Angal I 
ni oF n>, ■ they mounted, Gaoy- 



*ould pi 



Flurlau i_ 



■per. 



rell a 



1 betirlxt theiigbt 

'Olong ago," she Bald, " betwixt i 

□Ivlilon EiDOuldara hUdeu : 'tla niy 
mother, ' 

ilODs, Often fretful as the n 



I nemr knew 
(Qud help b( 



myfo 



. !lia 



le rail-d againat the state of 

r.ndy Iila'a yonlb, I 
een d decease alia I 



SheliadUni 

And from ._ _ . . 

Butwbeii youi lister came ahe woo Hw I 



11 1ni(ether. grew 



lO they aaid thai 



liiHllthlnga : yetmymolliei ] 
iir Piycbe thieved lier 



TUE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



143 



And angled vith them for her pupil's 

love : 
Slie calls her plagiarist ; I know not 

what: 
But I must go: I dare not tazxy" and 

light. 
Ab flies the shadow of a bird, she fled. 

OQien murmur'd Florian gazing after 

her. 
MAn open-hearted maiden, true and 

pure. 
If I could love, why this were she : 

how pretty 
Her blushing was, and how she blush'd 

agaiu, 
As if to dose with CyriPs random wish: 
Kot like your Princess cramm'd with 

erring pride, 
Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags 

in tow," 

" The crane," I said, ** may chatter 

of the crane, 
The dove may murmur of the dove, 

but I 
An ea^le clang an eagle to the sphere. 
My princess, O my piincess ! true she 

errs. 
Bat in her own grand way : being her* 

self 
Three times more noble than three- 
score of men, 
She sees herself in every woman else. 
And so she wears her error like a crown 
To blind the truth and me : for her, 

and her, 
Hebes are they to hand ambrosia, mix 
The nectar; but — ah she — whene'er 

she moves 
The Samian Here rises and she speaks 
A Memnon smitten with the morning 

Sun." 

So saying from the court we paced, 
and gaiu'd 

rhe terrace ranged along the Northern 
front, 

4nd leaning there on those balusters, 
high 

Iboye the empurpled champaign, 
drank tlie gale 

[hat blown about the foliage under- 
neath, 

\nd sated with the innumerable rose, 

leatbalm upon our eyelids. Hither 
came 

Jyiil, and yawning ** O hard task," he 
cried ; 

' No fighting shadows here I I forced 
away 

liro* solid opposition crabb'd and 
gnarVd. 

letter to clear prime forests, heave 
and thump 

L league of street in summer solstice 
down, 
hammer at this reverend gentle- 
woman. 



I knock'd and, bidden, enter'd ; found 

her there 
At point to move, and settled in her 

eyes 
The green malignant light of eomiiig 

storm. 
Sir, I was courteous, every phrase well- 

oil'd, 
As man's could be ; yet maideh-meek 

I pray'd 
Concealment : she demanded who we 

were. 
And why we came ? I fabled nothing 

fair. 
But, your example pilot, told her all . 
Up wont the hush'd amaze of hand and 

eye. 
But when I dwelt upon your old affi- 
ance, 
She answer'd sharply that I talk'd 

astray. 
I urged the fierce inscription on the 

gate, 
And our three lives. True— we had 

limed ouraelves 
With open eyes, and we must take the 

chance. 
But such extremes, I told her, well 

might harm 
The woman's cause, ' Not more than 

now,' she said, 
' So puddled as it is with favoritism.* 
I tiled the mother's heart. Shame 

might befall 
Melissa, knowing, sayingnot she knew: 
Her answer was * Leave me to deal 

with that.' 
I spoke of war to come and many 

deaths, 
And she replied, her duty was to speak. 
And duty duty, clear of consequences. 
I grew discouraged, Sir ; but since £ 

knew 
No rock so hard but that a little wave 
May beat admission in a thou&und 

years, 
I recommenced ; * Decide not ere you 

pause. 
I find you here but in the second place. 
Some say the third — the authentic 

foundress yod. 
I offer boldly: we will seat you highest: 
Wink at our advent : help my prince 

to gain 
His rightful bride, and here I promise 

you 
Some palace in our land, where you 

shall reign 
The head and heart of all our fair she- 
world, 
And your great name flow on with 

broadening time 
For ever.' Weil, she balanced this a 

little. 
And told me she would answer us to- 
day. 
Meantime be mute : thus much, noK 

more I gaiu'd." 

He ceasing, came a mesiaeo fkom the 
Head. 




rUE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 









BvjoudllieUauk-leaved platuu 
Agieed to, tills, llie day fled ot 



TUoii 



moidcnp, lilgher by the 
aliut a plllui, lier foot on 
iBlcopards. SittenllkaliB 
ibout hcT BBiidaL I diev 



Her nay-f urt'ii cats apaiiiioil (aiitaay 
Her college and liar maWeui, «u,pt; 

A]id 1 myBell (ha sLadow of a dream, 
For all ttluga were aud Here not. Ye 

Ifofi 
My heart beat tlilck with posiion aju 

Then Irom my breaal tha iiivoluntar 

Blgh 
Brake, bb she emati 

That lent rnvkueei 

■Iioo^ 
My pulBCB, I 
Wtut forth 



IT kiuE expects— vae tUere no pre- 
Thoro 1» no traer-hpnrtcd— ah, yon 

Ls preHguiBil, and lie could not 

TI19 blnl ot^ puBafie (ijiug sootli bal 

To follow : surely, if your Hlshuen 

Your purport, you irfll aliock him ey'n 
; J dealt, 
rbaaei counieB,GMldienotdcBpai[," 

"Poor boy" Bhe Baid**cau La not 

uolt, tennla, bnll^no crnnifHi? hot 
deals In ' 



la llglit 






Thei 



ultsi 



thine sou eav." 
"Jg»la?"B5iBerled,-'i 

From lilm to me? wa g 

X license ; Bfieak, and 



MelUiiiki 
At girl- 



It in, martial eier- 
.blind ideal likeagirl. 



ame ; perhapa hi 
I dead self, uor 



,'1'5J'™ 



Upoi 



■i (alVii divin! 



At 



pedeBUl w 

She paused, and added with a. lunal^ 
tier BmilB 

Deck, but knoT (mneK 
le VoShti! Snmi 



Shake; 



n kiuB 



"Al»s yonr Hlehnes 

EBBt/'IUdd. 

" On tliftt wMoU leans li 



.idcnicnUi llie 
brcalhei full 






To 



may f^l ; 



gray pra-GmlnflDce 

Iceiue ; inlgbt I uae I 

halflw done patchance your 1 

ceebleT halresa of ff 

ndnilnB nil ; and thus your 

lake that footprint upou 

Ilaunooih 10 nothing: might 1 droad 
With only Fame' foi 



■Which o 



eand 



\ 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



151 



For inae. yet may live in Tain, and 

miss, 
Meanwhile, what every woman counts 

her due, 
Love, (diildren, happiness ? " 

And she exdaim'd, 
" Peace, you youiic savage of the 

Northern wild ! 
What ! tho* your Prince's love were 

like a GocVs, 
Have we not made ourself the sacri- 
fice? 
Ton are bold indeed : we are not talk'd 

to thus: 
Yet will we say for children, would 

they grew 
Like fleld-nowers everywhere ! we like 

them well : 
But children die : and let me tell you, 

girl, 

Howe'er you babble, great deeds can- 
not die ; 

They with the sun and moon renew 
their light 

Forever, blessing those that look on 
them. 

Children— that men may pluck them 
from our hearts, 

Kill US with pity, break us with our- 
selves — . 

O — children— there is nothing upon 
earth 

More miserable than she that has a son 

And sees him err : nor would wo work 
for fame ; 

Tho* she perhaps might reap the ap- 
plause of Great, 

Who learns the one pocr sto whence 
after-hands 

May move the world, tho' she herself 
effect 

But little : wherefore up and net, nor 
shrink 

For fear our solid aim bo dissipated 

By frail successors. Would, indeed, 
we had been, 

In lien of many mortal flies, a race 

Of giants living, each, a thousand 
years, 

That we might see our own work out, 
and watch 

The sandy footprint harden into 
stone." 

I answer'd nothing, doubtful in my- 
self 

If that stranffe Poet-princess with her 
grana 

Imaginations might at all be won. 

And she broke out interpretmg my 
thoughts : 

'*No doubt we seem a kind of mon- 
ster to you ; 

We are used to that : for women, up 
till this 

Cnunp'd under worse than South-sea- 
isle taboo, 

Dwarfs of the gyneceum, fail so far 

In high desire, they know not, camiot 
'guess 



How much their welfare is a pasiion 

to us. 
If we could give them surer, quicker 

proot— 
Oh if our end were less achievable 
Bv slow approaches, than bv single act 
Of immolation, any phase oi death. 
We were as prompt to spring agunst 

the pikes. 
Or down the fiery gulf as talk of it. 
To compass our dear sisters* liberties.'* 

She bow'd as if to veil a noble tear ; 
And up we came to where the xiver 

sloped 
To plunge in cataract, shattering on 

black blocks 
A breadth of thunder. O'er it shook 

the woods, 
And danced the color, and, below, 

stuck out 
The bones of some vast bulk that lived 

and roar'd 
Before man was. She gazed awhile 

and said, 
"As these rude bones to us, are we to her 
That will be." •* Dare we dream of 

that," I ask'd, 
** Which wrought us, as the workman 

and his work. 
That practice betters?" "How," she 

cried. " you love 
The metaphysics ! read and earn oux 

prize, 
A golden broach : beneath an emerald 

plane 
Sits Diotima. teaching him that died 
Of hemlock ; our device : wrought to 

the life ; 
She rapt upon her subject, he on her : 
For there are schools for all." " And 

yet" I said 
" Methinks I have not found among 

them all 
One anatomic." " Nay, we thought of 

that," 
She answer'd, " but it pleased us not : 

in truth 
We shudder but to dream our maids 

should ape 
Those monstrous males that carve the 

living hound. 
And cram liim with the fragments of 

the grave. 
Or in the dark dissolving human heart, 
And holy secrets of this microcosm, 
Dabbling a shameless hand with 

shameful ^est, 
Encamalize their spirits : yet we know 
Knowledge is knowledge, and this mat- 
ter hangs : 
Howbeit ourself, forseeing casualty. 
Nor willing men should come among 

us, learnt, 
For many weary moons before we 

came. 
This craft of healing. Were you sick, 

ourself 
Would tend upon you. To your ques- 
tion now. 



WMch toncliea on Die iroTluiun and 

bis work. 
I*t there be llglit and there was light ; 

Foe mi, uid'la. and will bf . are bat ia ; 

The blrtb of Lslit ; bat we that are not 

nil. 
Aa parta, can Bee bat parts, now Ihlfl, 



And tl 






I. from 



tiou^t, aiid jnoke 






kbupe) tbe 
ladow will wo work, imd 
;o the fuller cla;." 



"STitli kindled eje« : wo rode 
And, o'er a brid^a of pinewo 



On flowery levelaiuidaTiieathUiccrag, 
rnll of all beauty. "O howiweaf 1 

■aid 
(For 1 wae helf-obllTlons of my niaski 
'■ To llnaar here wltb ono Uiat loved 

fair phlloa- 



'^M'\ 



That lift the fsnirr ; for Indei 

flelde 
a™ lovely, loleller not the 

■Where paio'd the Demlgoila of 

Ths soft white Tnpoc BtiGBli tti 

Duilt to the Sun:" lhen,tu 

"Pitch oar paVlllnn hero a 

Lay o'" 

A lent 
■Wi;h ft 

Engirt wttli many a florid 

ronqnetor; won 

Ibe bearded Victor of Um- 

And alfSe I'nen moam'd at 

Bet forth TO oUmb ; then, . 

Cyril kept 
With Piteho, with MallEBH Fl 
Wttli mine affiauced. Mali] 

Glanced like a lonib of ann 

the rocka. 
Many a light root ahono like R 
lu the dark eras : and then n 

Abont the ellffi.the eopaea, oi 



trachyte, tin th« 

jwazd hla death aud 

come out above Uw 



ie eplendor falle on cactle walla 
And auowy aununita oU In i 

'-" 'l tie'w" •""'" 



achoea, djlHj, 



;7ai«. 

BioiiTbugli.Tlo-ir-eT----^'^-^-"'-"-'?- 

Uving, 
Blow, bugle ; answer 

dying, dying. 

O hark, O hear I how thin and elenr, 

O aweel and tar'f^''cil(r Jnif^r"* 
The honii of Elflond falnlly blow 

Blow, lac UB hear the purple gleiig rt 

Blow, bugR; answer, ocLoea, djinB, 

dying, dying. 
O lore, they die In yon rich akr. 

They faint on hill or Held or ri* 
Oar eehoea roll from soul to tnul 

Bh)w, K.„._, , 

flying. 
And anawer, echoea, 

ilyiiig, dying. 



If that liypothesi. nf ihelra be lound " 
Si^d Ida; "lot ua dowu and teal;" 

Down from tho lean and wrinkled pn- 

By eTery coppiee-f eatber'd cluum Mid 

Dropt thro' the ambroalal gloom to 

Ko biager than a glow-worm abona tb> 

Lamp-ilt ttoiD the Inner. Ones ■]» 

Deacendliig; once or tnleeBhelenlhCrf 

hanif 
Andblleatul palpltailona 
Stltriiig a sudden tr«ui(( 
fill. 
But when ve planted level feet and 



ip in broJder'ii dowa 



eaih the ui 

Out elbowa i on a tripwl In Ihe mldit 
A fragrant flame Toao, and befor* lU 

Fruit ,l)lii»cai.Ttand, amber wine, and 

gold, 
hen she " _ 
Uahtlier 1 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



158 



nitt minutes fledged with mnsio : " and 

anudd. 
Of those beside her, smote her harp, 

and sang. 

*' Tears, idle tears, I knofr not what 
they mean. 
Tears from the aepth of some divine 



Bise 



despair 
in the 1 



heart, and gather to the 

eyes. 
In looking on the happy Autamn- 

flelds. 
And thinking of the days that are no 

more* 

*< Fresh as the first beam glittering 

on a sail. 
Thai brings oar friends up from the 

underworld. 
Sad as the last which reddens over one 
That sinks with all we love below the 

verge ; 
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no 

more. 

** Ah, sad and strange as in dark sum- 
mer dawns 

The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd 
birds 

To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 

The casement slowly grows a gummer- 
ing square ; 

So sad, so strange, the days that are 
no more. 

" I>ear as remeniber'd kisses after 

death. 
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy 

feign'd 
On lips that are for others ; deep as 

love. 
Deep as first love, and wild with all 

regret; 
O Death in Life, the days that are no 

no more." 

She ended with such passion that the 

tear. 
She sang of. Shook and fell, an erring 

pearl 
Lost in her bosom : but with some dis- 
dain 
Aaswer'd the Princess «If indeed 

there haunt 
About the rooulder'd lodges of the Past 
So sweet a voice and vague, fatal to 

men, 
WaU needs it we should cram our ears 

with wool 
And so pace by : but thine are fancies 

hatch'd 
In silken-folded idleness ; nor is it 
Wiser to weep a tn e occasion lost. 
But trim our sails, and let old bygones 

be. 
While down tiie streams that float us 

each and all 
To the issue, foes, like glittering bergs 

of ioe. 



Throne after throne, and molten on 

the waste 
Becomes a cloud : for all things serve 

their time 
Toward that great year of equal mights 

and rights, 
Nor would I light with iron laws, in 

the end 
Found golden : let the past be past ; 

let be 
Their cancell'd Babels : tho' the rougii 

kex break 
The starr'd mosaic, and the beard- 
blown goat 
Hang on the shaft, and the wild fig- 
tree split 
Their monstrous idols, care not while 

we hear 
A trumpet in the distance pealing 

news 
Of better, and Hope, a poising eagle, 

burns 
Above the unrisen morrow : " then to 

me ; 
•* Know you no soug of your own land," 

she said, 
" Not such as moans about the retro* 

spect. 
But deals ^ith the other distance and 

the hues 
Of promise ; not a death*s-head at the 

wine." 

Then I remember'd one myself had 

made. 
What time I watch*d the swallow 

winging south 
From mine own land, part made long 

since, and part 
Now while I sang, and maidenlike as 

far 
As I could ape their treble, did I sing. 

'*0 Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying 

South, 
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded 

eaves, 
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to 

thee. 

''O tell her, Swallow, thou that 

k no west each. 
That bright and fierce and fickle is the 

South, 
And dark and true and tender is the 

North. 

<*0 Swallow, Swallow, if I could 

follow, and lisht 
Upon her lattice, 1 would pipe and 

trill, 
And cheep and tv^tter twenty million 

loves. 

'* O were I thou that she might take 

me in. 
And lay me on her bosom, and her 

heart 
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. 

<*Why Ihigereth she to clothe hex 
heart w\tl\ love. 



-V 



154 



THE PRINCESS. ■ A MEDLEY. 



Delsyliifl u tha tflndac nah delava 
TocruthelisrtBlf, wlisutai Ui« wood) 
ate aceeu ? 
"O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood 

Sa; to her, I do but waiitou in (bo 

Siiuib, 
But ill thfl Sorlb long lines ray neet Is 

" O Ml her, brief is life but love ia 
IniiB. 
AudbriertheBDii oC lammsr In the 

Kortb, 
And brief the moon of beauty In the 
South. 
" O Swnllow, flying from tho golden 
Fly to her, siid pipe niid woo her. and 

And tall her, tell her, tliat 1 follow 

thEe." 
I ceoMcl, and all the ladiea, each at 

eaiih, 
LiltB the Ithacenaiaii suitors in old 

Stared with groat eyes, and laugh'd 

And kiiBW*iio" wSt they meant ; for 

Hang talao: hut smiling "Nol for 

IhGH,'' she i,Bl(i, 
" O ^ulbul, any rose of Gulistan 
Shall hurst her veil: marsh -dlTom, 

Shall eroak thee dgler, or tilie laeHdon-- 

Orate her haisli kindred in the graaa : 

and this 
A mere love-poem I lor Buch. my 

friend, 
We hold tliem slight ; Uiey mind ua of 

'When WB matle bricks in Eeypt< 

Tbatluto and flute faiitsstia tander- 

Alid diBsi thflvietirototheofterinEUp. 
And paint the gated of Hell with Par' 

^harwueoy'es blind 

Iloveaber. Peace be with her. She 

is dead. 
So they blaaplieme the muse I but 

UBed 10 great ends : ounolf have ottan 

Vallijriaii hymns, or into rhyllim bave 

The pOEslon of tho prophetess ; for 

or spirit than to junlwtiiie BiidTore, 
Love le It? Would thla same mock- 



M>a-»„.n 


were 


Bid 


up like wlulei 


Till 


.il,-, 


■„ 


grew 


to 


rai«»s 


St our 


lo 


•3 


to bob 


^'hu" 


tVSf^ 


babfi 
wiiis, 



Whole til oiiraelveB and owedtouone. 

Enough t 
But not to leaTeii play with profit, 
Know you no Boiig, the true growth of 
That gives tho mnnnem of your oono- 



trywo 



u'd her Bomptno 



head with 
Ot BhiiiLiiii eipectatlon flxt on miiui. 
Then while 1 drosg'd niy brKtos la 

Cyril, with whom tho bell-mooth'd 

plaBB had wrought, 
OrmaBter'dbytheseiiBo of sport, ba- 
To troll B careless, careless tavem- 
Of Moll and Meg, and Htranga experi- 
Uumeet for laaes. Floriaa nodded U 
I frowning ; pByehe flogh'd and wann'A 

Tbe lily like MellBia droopM her brow* i 
"Forliear" the Prineeas cried ; "Foil 

And healed thro' and thro' with wtatli 

I smote him oii Iho breaat ; he started 

ot a city Back'd| 



■' To bon 

Said Ida; "1 

fled, as H 






> horse ! ■■ aiid 



In the pavilion : there Uko partlne 

I Ueard Qiem paaaing from me : lioof 

And every hoof ■ knell to my desires, 
Clang'd on the bridge ; and tbeu ui- 

" The Head, the Head, the FrinceB, O 

For blind with rsiie she mlsa'd the 

pUMk,aiidron'd 
In Uie river. Out I sprang from glow 

There wlilrl'd her white rob* Ukea 

the horrible fall : a gltatt I 

; but wotnan.TCDted u I *a3 






THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



155 






nnAged ; and the flood drew ; yet I 

caught her; then 
Oaring one arm. and hearing in mrleft 
The weight of all the hopes of half the 

world, 
StroTe to buffet to land in Tain. A 

tree 
"Was half-disrooted from his place and 

stoop'd 
To drench his dark locks hi the gurg- 
ling wave 
Mid-channel. Right on this we drove 

a])d caught. 
And grasping down the boughs I gain*d 

the shore. 



There stood her maidens glimmer- 
ingly group'd 

In the hollow bank. One reaching for- 
ward drew 

My burden from mine arms ; they cried 
*' she lives : " 

They bore her back into the tent : but I, 

So much a kind of shame withhi me 
wrousht, 

Not yet endured to meet her opening 
eyes. 

Nor found my friends; but pushed 
alone on foot 

(For since her horse was lost I left her 
mine) 

Across the woods, and less from In- 
dian craft 

Than beelike instinct hiveward, found 
at length 

The garden portals. Two great statues, 
Art 

And Science, Caryatids, lifted up 

A weight of emblem, and betwixt were 
valves 

Of open-work in which the hunter rued 

Uis rash intrusion, manlike, but his 
brows 

Had sprouted, and the branches there- 
upon 

Spread out at top, and grimly spiked 
the gates. 

A little space was left between the 

horns. 
Thro* which I clamber'd o*er at top 

with pain, 
I>ropt on tlie sward, and up the linden 

walks. 
And, tost on thoughts that changed 

from hue to hue, 
Now poring on the glowworm, now the 

star, 
I paced the terrace, till the Bear had 

wheel'd 
Thxo* a great arc his seven slow suns. 

A step 
Of lightest echo, then a loftier form 
Thau female, moving thro* the uncer* 

tain gloom, 
IMsturb'd me with the doubt " if this 

were she ** 
UntitwasFlorian. <<Hi8tOHi8t,"ho 

MOdt 



** They seek us : out so late is out of 

rutes. 
Moreover * seize the strangers * is the 

cry. 
How came you here?" I told himi 

"I" said he, 
'* Last of the trahi, a moral leper, I, 
To whom none spake, half-eick at 

heart, retum'd. 
Arriving all confused among the rest 
With hooded brows I crept into the 

hall, 
And, couch*d behind a Judith, under- 
neath 
The head of Holof ernes peep'd and saw. 
Girl after girl was call'd to trial : each 
Disclaim 'a all knowledge of us : last 

of all, 
Melissa : trust me. Sir, I pitied her. 
She, question'd if she knew us men, 

at first 
Was silent ; closer prest, denied it not: 
And then, demanded if her mother 

knew, 
Or Psyche, she affirm*d not, or denied: 
From whence the Royal mind, familiar 

with her. 
Easily gather*d either guilt. She sent 
f or Psyche, but she was not there ; she 

call'd 
For Psyche's child to cast it from the 

doors ; 
She sent for Blanche to accuse her 

face to face ; 
And I slipt out : but whither will you 

now? 
And where are Psyche, Cyril ? both are 

fied: 
What, if together? that were not so 

well. 
Would rather we had never come ! I 

dread 
His wildness, and the chances of the 

dark." 

** And yet,** I said, «« you wrong him 

more than I 
That struck him : this is proper to the 

clown, 
Tho' smock'd, or furr*d and purpled, 

still the clown. 
To harm the thing that trusts him, and 

to shame 
That which he says he loves : for Cyril, 

howe*er 
He deal in frolic, as to-night— the song 
Might have been worse and sinu'd in 

grosser lips 
Beyond all pardon— as it is, I hold 
These flashes on the surface are not he. 
He has a solid base of temperament : 
But as the waterlily starts and slides 
Upon the level in little puffs of wind 
Tho* anchor'd to the bottom, such is 

he.*' 

• 

Scarce had I ceased when from % 
tamarisk near 
Two Proctors leapt upon us, crying^ 
**Naittei;»» 



f 




THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



H«i standing still, vol clutch'd -, Lut X 
id llie mnnky-clrcl^d mBKes, 

By «11 tlie foujilaluH i fleet 1 was of 

EBfore niesbowet'a Uiorosa In flakes; 

buUiid 
I heftcd thg iinfTd pursuer ; at mine 

Bubbled Lhe nlgbtlngalo and beeded 

Liid »oret Itnibter tickled b11 my BoaL 
..t ]»t I book'i 
TliBt cloii-pt Uie 
Aiuiral11]i|;i 



&M110 



caugbt aud 



vitbiii 



iiBird 



The lUj-a „ 

Bow'd (HI her pslna mid full 

from wronc, 
Her mund wbite akouldBT Ebokeu 7 



id gileTed— loxlickeD uid U 
witii ber ix-^miiiE n|wv 



1 1 bora up in pott from ancient 1 
d partly tluil 1 bopKil ' '■ 

dparilyconaciouBofmy own deMrlv 
idpsrHy tliacyou were my civirhMdi' 
id Eblouy yoa wero bom ' 



They hBlort us to thfl Priocem wbers 
High In ihB hall ; aboye hoi droop'd a 
AndmodelEeBinglajenel an herbron- 

worrl her, combine ""' !■" 

Damp from Iha rivtr 
" hind her SI..0.I 
lit dauEbters of Ibe plough ^Lrouger 



Aud 

thing gi 
[n which I mlg 

Whoa time sbo 

noble se 

Grew up from s 






r fBllow-Horlier 



Up in 01 



nm Eeed we two I011D 
I lown ; 
ETowth, lu licr a J< 



k this pah 
thelinl 



n light nnd dnik- 

iiimit came but that yoa plonsil 
ler path 

PeydiB, jounecr, not so wln^ 
Id (liend aud Cried, alie new lii 



I 



ButsHUherliBtiwi 



p hi ht>p« Bhe would be 
leso woItch : Ihtff kllew 






Then, ai we cams, ttm crond dlvld- 

An advent to Uie throne ; aud there 

beelde. 
naW-nake,l as It Cttufiht at onco from 

bed 
And tumbled on the purple foolclotb, 

lay 
Qy-ahin 



^1id1e» 



: nlgbl, t) 



le pu1>llfl weal. 



""l;"' 



waa not thus, O PrluceaB, in old 
iiiiBd loy counael, lived upon ray 



tboD^t asalu; I 

I 'We thank yoa, ire alall 

From Lady Fayclio 1 ' yon bod gono to 

Bbe told, perforce ; and winning easy 

No doubt, for Blight deUy, remahi'd 

In oar young nuiseiy etill onknoini, 
the Btem 

"Were all luiBoounted as mallgnanl 
To push my rival ont ol place 
But pubtie use reqnired Blie sbouli 
And since my oath was la'eD Cor pu 
1 broke tliolotterofit to keep tliOM 



I 



THE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



157 



X spake not then at fizst, but watch'd 

them well, 
8aw that they kept apart, no mischief 

done : 
And yet thu day (tho* you should hate 

me for it) 
I came to tell you ; found that you had 

gone, 
Bidd'n to the hills, she likewise : now, 

I thought, 
That surely she will speak ; if not, 

then I : 
Did she? These monsters olazon'd 



what they were. 

Iff to the 
kind. 



According to the coarseness of their 



For thus I hear ; and known at last 

(my work) 
And roll of cowardice and guilty 

shame, 
I grant in her some sense of shame, 

she flies ; 
And I remain on whom to wreak your 



rage, 
It hai 



I, that have lent my life to build up 

yours, 
I that nave wasted here health, wealth, 

and time. 
And talents, I— you know it— I will 

not boast : 
Dismiss me, and 1 prophesy your plan, 
Divorced fiom my experience, will be 

chaff 
For every gust of chance, and men will 

say 
TTe did not know the real light, but 

chased 
The wisp that flickers where no foot 

can tread." 

Che ceased: the Princess answer'd 
coldly '• Good : 
Tour oath is broken : we dismiss you : 

ao. 

For this lost lamb (she pointed to the 

child) 
Oar mind is changed : we take it to 

ourself.'* 

Thereat the Lady stretch'd a vulture 

throat. 
And shot from crooked lips a haggard 

smile. 
•' The plan was mine. I built the nest" 

she said 
•• To hatch the cuckoo. Rise ! " and 

BtoopM to updrag 
Melissa: she, half on her mother 

propt. 
Half-drooping from her, tum*d her 

face, and cast 
A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer, 
Which melted Floriau*s fancy as she 

hung, 
A NiobSan daughter, one arm out, 
Appealing to the bolts of Heaven ; and 

"We gazed upon her came a little sth* 
About the doors, and on a sudden 
msh'd 



Among us, out of breath, as one pur- 
sued, 
A woman-i>ost in flying raiment. Fear 
Stared in her eyes, and chalk'd her 

face, and wiug'd 
Her transit to the throne, whereby she 

fell 
Delivering seal'd despatches which the 

Head 
Took half-amazed, and i:i her lion's 

mood 
Tore open, silent we with blind sur- 
mise 
Regarding, while she read, till over 

brow 
And cheek and bosom brake the wrath- 
ful bloom 
As of some Are against a «tormy cloud. 
When the wild peasant rights himself, 

the rick 
Flames, and his anger reddens in the 

heavens ; 
For anger most it seem'd, while now 

her breast. 
Beaten witli some great passion at her 

heart, 
Palpitated, her hand shook, and wo 

heard 
In the dead hush tho papers that she 

held 
Rustle : at once the lost lamb at her 

feet 
Sent out a bitter bleating for its dam ; 
The plaintive cry jarr'd on her iro ; 

she crush'd 
The scrolls together, made a sudden 

turn 
As if to speak, but, utterance failing 

her. 
She wbirl'd them on to me, as who 

should say 
'* Read," and I read— two letters— one 

her sire's. 

** Fair daughter, when wo sent the 

Prmce your way 
"We knew not your ungracious laws, 

which learnt, 
"We, conscious of what temper you are 

built. 
Came all in haste to hinder wrong, but 

fell 
Into his father's hands, who has this 

night, 
You lying close upon his territory, 
Slipt round and iu the dark invested 

you. 
And here he keeps me hostage for hio 



>> 



son. 

The second was my father's running 

thus : 
** You have our son : touch not a hair 

of his head : 
Render him up unscathed : give him 

your hand : 
Cleave to your contract : tho* indeed 

we hear 
You hold the woman is the better man: 
A rampant heresy, such ixa \li*;> ^^^^x^^aa. 




rns PRINCESS: a medley. 



11 kick BgnliiBt 
1 wMcIi mlglit 



Our ion, oil the iUFtant, wbalo," 

And then ibiod ap and >p^e lm|;>el- 



But veiieiator, leBlnus It sltOBlit be 
All tbAC It might Iw ; liear me, for I 

Tbo' man, jethnmm.irliiitsoo'erjour 

rrom thB ^en curl to tLo graj lock a 

lifs 
IiOMmlnetlianyoura : my nurao would 

-11 me of yc--- 



I babbled tor fou, as babtci tor tha 
boy, yoTi 
n aU Call 



Vagus bfi^htneBB ; -wh 

From all lilgli placeB, U 
lighla. 

And blD«ii to tomoit noitli ; atero anil 

dnWM 
With Id&i Ida. Ilia, mug tlw woods : 
rUa loadPt wUdswflii iii among iho 

Would olang It, and laot 111 wreatlis of 

glowworm lisbC 
Hie msIlDW bleaker laurmur'il Ida. 

Now, 
BMaluea I would lutTO rcHcli'd you, 

Spbecsd np wlUi CaasJopSIa, or the en- 

Ponephnns In Hadei. 






I of I 



o oJl » 



nicii 



» I lou 



IndPei 



full 



Not 111 tlila frei|ueuce 

O noble Idk to those thougbts that 

wait 
On you. tbetr centra : lat mo my but 

lhl», 
That many a (iimoUB man and woman, 

And latulsklp, haia I beard of, nf tor 

ThB dwarta of preBage; tbo" whoii 



Made I 



detail 



And mantei'd, while that uttor-beati^ 

Such bold from act to Bct, from banr 

to hour, 
Wllblii lue, that except yon ilnyma 

AiTording to yoar blticr stBtnte-book, 
1 caiuiot ueaaw to lotlow you, ■< tlu^ 

ThiaealdDSB mn^e; who deilrs yon 

Than orowins boys tbelr maDhood; 

Jyiiig llp". 
With many Uiousond mattera left lo 

The breatli of Itta : O moie thitn pooi 

man wealth, 
Than aide roan henlth— joun, youn , 

'Without you : with you, wbole ; a 

those halveii 
ToawoTtAieit; aiiilhowe'eryoabliKlt) 

Tour heart with lymem out Irom mine. 

That it becomes no mim to num 

teeth o( cleuch'd atili 



Dthe w 



Keady t 



l^ma 
To follow 

Y«t thHt 1 rsmo not an niiauuioi 
Heboid your faUior'B letter." 

On one 
KiieellnR, I gaye It, whliili ibe ci 

rnopen'dathe'rfeet: aflda(rf(.„. 
I]iv«i:tiTe seeui'd to wait behind k 

riycflorel with ihuilai 
bust and flood Iko « 

And so she would hnra spoken 

there ro«, 
A. buhbub lu ILe court of haU L 

Gatbcr'd together : from the ill 

hBll 
Long UiiBB of splendor «lanl«d 6 
Of snowy Bbooldcn, thick a 

And ntlnbon- robes, and oems andEemi 
like eyes, ' 

Id golden head* ; the]' M^ 



Id fro 



la flown 



[ open-mouth d, all cail: 

Sight, 
imo crying there was an araiy In U 



walls, 
1 some they cared nc 



THE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



1(« 



Kot peace she look'd, the Head : bat 

naingup 
Bobed in the long night of her deep 

hair, so 
To the open window moyed, remaining 

there 
FIxt like a beacon-tower above the 

waves 
Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling 

eye 
Glares ruin, ani the wild birds on the 

light 
Dash themselves dead. She stretch'd 

her arms and call'd 
Across the tumult and the tumult fell. 



•* What fear ye brawlers ? am not I 

your Head ? 
On me, me, me, the storm first breaks: 

/dare 
All these male thunderbolts : what is 

it ye fear? 
Peace I there are those to avenge us 

and they come : 
If not,— myself were like enough, O 



girls, 
ifu] 



To unfurl the maiden banner of our 
rights. 

And clad iu iron burst the ranks of 
war. 

Or, falling, protomartyr of our cause, 

JMe : yet I blame you not ao much tor 
fear; 

Six thousand vears of fear have made 
you tliat 

From which I would redeem you ; but 
for those 

That stir this hubbub— you and you— I 
know 

Tour faces there In the crowd — to- 
morrow mom 

We hold a great convention : then shall 
they 

That love their voices more than duty, 

learn 

With whom they deal, dismissed iu 
shame to live 

No wiser than their mothers, house- 
hold stuff, 

JAye chattels, miucera of each other's 
fame, 

Full of weak poison, turnspits for the 
clown. 

The drunkard's football, laughing- 
stocks of Time, 

Whose brains are iu their hands and 
in their heels. 

But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to 
thrum. 

To tramp, to scream, to bnmishiand 
to scour. 

For ever slaves at home and fools 
abroad.*' 

She, ending, waved her hands : there- 
at the crowd 

Hattering, dissolved : then with a 
•B^. that k>ok'd 

A stroke of oruel suushine on the cliff, 



When all tlie glens are drown*d i|i 

azure gloom 
Of thunder-shower, she floated to us 

and said : 

"You have done well and like a 

fentleman, 
ike a prince : you have our 

thanks for all : 
And you look well too in your woman's 

dress : 
Well have you done and like a gentle- 
man. 
Tou saveil our life : we owe you bitter 

thanks : 
Better have died and spilt our bones in 

the flood- 
Then men had said— but now— What 

hinders mo 
To take such bloody vengeance on you 

both?— 
Tet since our father— Wasps in our 

gooil hive. 
You would-be quenchers of the light 

to be. 
Barbarians, grosser than your native 

bears — 

would I had his sceptre for one 

hour ! 
You that have dared to break our 

bound, and gull'd 
Our servants, wrong'd and lied and 

thwarted us — 
/ wed with thee ! / bound by precon- 
tract 
Your bride, your bondslave ! not tho^ 

all the gold 
That veins the world were i>ack'dtc 

make your crown, 
And every spoken tongue should lord 

you. Sir, 
Your falsehood and yourself arehate* 

f ul to us : 

1 trample on your offers and on you : 
Begone: we will not look upon you 

more. 
Here, push them out at gates." 

In wrath she spake. 
Then those eight mighty daughters of 

the plough 
Bent their broad faces toward us and 

address'd 
Their motion : twice I sought to plead 

my cause. 
But on my shoulder hung their heavy 

hands, 
The weight of destiny : so from her face 
They push'd us, down the steps, and 

thro' the court. 
And with grim laughter thrust us out 

at gates. 

We cross'd the street and gain'd a 
petty mound 

Beyond it, whence wo saw the lights 
and heard 

The voices murmuring. While I list- 
en 'd, came 

On a sudden the weird seizure and the 
doubt : 



■i 



TUE PniyCKSS: A MEDLEY. 

Aitsneed llie lav or, and lu 












orkUig eUe by 

Slid U.a 

Worn ■Uodows *, and Ihc long fantOBtlD 

With air Ite dolngii Imd aud lisd not 

And all Ililngs wcro mid were not. 

TliU wuut by 
Aa itiangely a> It came, and on my 

.. .ttlodagsntleclondof inelBU«lii>ly ; 
Not long ; I ihoolt It oil ; lot apllB u( 

And Btiddeu ghoetly BliadonlnKi 1 vaa 

To whom tha taach of all misdiaDae 



iiiiiBe i tLeuNemoTodawity. 



ant thro' railing dm 



A moment. 

"-—•MM 

I, like flre 



He taea iAt brood aboui thy li 
■he next, like flre ha mmti thu -.. 
And nlrikaa him dead for ihlua aud 

LlUa Banf ; we thought Ler liaU- 

ha struck suoh wacblhig fury thio' the 

kiid, lUlte^ telguing plqno at what she 

Tha TBillitry, or grotesque, or falsa lub- 

LUa one that wlahea at a dance to 

change 
The muilc— olapt lier lands and cried 

raiul flghC to kill and muko 

Andhe~that liext Inherited the Ula 
Half turning to the broken Htatiru ^dt 
" BIT KalphTiss got your colore : if I 

r knight, and flght your bPiltle 

It chanued, her empty glove upon tha 

by bar Ilka a model or lier band, 
took it and Bh« dung It. ■' light " 

Bhe said, 
id make ub all we would be, ereat 



kntgbdike 



{•orroH'd from the hall. 




i, Hb rough clieck ' I 
'rfdca "'King, yoa I 
Wa did bat leep you aurcty for onr 
IftMabe'he,— oradragElcd mawldii, 

'fhat Icuils her bristled cruBtcD in Uia 

BlucUo : '■ 
For 1 wan droneh'd with ooAe, audtiim ' 

with briers. I 

More crumplad than a poppy from Um J 

And all oiie rag, dlsprlnced from bead 1 

Then some one sent beneath hli lault. | 

A wliiapat'd lest from »oi 

him " I.Aok, 
He hfu l>eeu aiDuiigblE aliai 



\ 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY- 



Ut 



Boar'd) " make yourself a man to fight 

with men. 
Go : Cyril told us all." 

As boys that slink 
From ferule and the trespass-chiding 

eye, 
Away we stole, and transient in a trice 
J«^rom what was left of faded woman- 
slough 
To sheathing splendors and the golden 

scale 
Of harness, issued in the sun, that now 
Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the 

Earth, 
And hit the Northern hills. Here Cyril 

met us, 
A little shy at first, but by and by 
We twain, with mutual pardon ask*d 

and given 
For stroke and song, resoldcr'd peace, 

whereon 
FoUow'd his tale. Amazed he flew away 
Thro' the dark laud, and laler iu the 

night 
Had come on Psyche weeping : ** then 

we fell 
Iiito your father's hand, and there she 

lies, 
But will not speak, nor stir.*' 

He show'd a tent 
A stonoHshot off : we euter'd iu, and 

there 
Among piled arms and rough accoutre- 
ments. 
Pitiful sight, wrapp'd in a soldier's 

cloak, 
Like some sweet sculpture draped from 

head to foot, 
And push'd by rude hands from its 

pedestal, 
All her fair length upon the ground 

she lay : 
And at her head a follower of the camp, 
A charr'd and wrinkled piece of wo- 
manhood, 
Sat watching like a watcher by the 

dead. 

Then Florian knelt, and " Come " he 

whlsper'd to her, 
** Lift up your head, sweet sister : lie 

not thus. 
What have you done but right ? you 

could not slay 
He, nor your prince . look up : be com- 
forted : 
Sweet is it to have done the thing one 

ought, 
When fall'n in darker ways.'* And 

likewise I : 
" Be comforted : have I not lost her 

too. 
In whose least act abides the nameless 

charm 
That none has else for me?" She 

heard, she moved, 
She moan'd, a folded voice ; and up 

sherat« 
And raised the cloak from brows as 

pale and smootli 



As those that mourn half - shrouded 

over death 
In deathless marble. ** Her " she said 

*' my friend- 
Parted from her— betray' d her cause 

and mine — 
Where shall I breathe ? why kep1> yo 

not your faith ? 
O base and bad ! what comfort ? none 

for me ! " 
To whom remorseful Cyril " Yet I pray 
Take comfort : live, dear lady, for your 

child!" 
At which she lifted up her voice and 

cried. 

*' Ah me, my babe, my blossom, ah 

my child. 
My one sweet child, whom I shall see 

no more ! 
For now will cruel Ida keep her back : 
And either she will die from want of 

care. 
Or sicken with ill-usage, when they 

say 
The child is hers— for every little 

fault, 
The child ia hers ; and they -will beat 

my girl 
Remembering her mother : O my flow- 
er I 
Or they will take her, they will make 

fiBT hard, 
And she will pass me by in after-life 
With some cold reverence worse than 

were she dead. 
Ill mother that I was to leave her 

there. 
To lag behind, scared by the cry they 

made. 
The horror of the shame among them 

all: 
But I will go and sit beside tlie doors, 
And make a wild petition night and 

day. 
Until they hate to hear me like a wind 
Wailing lor ever, till they open to me. 
And lay my little blossom at my feet. 
My babe, my sweet AglaVa, my one 

child : 
And 1 will take her up and go my way. 
And satisfy my soul with kissing her : 
Ah ! what might that man not deserve 

of me. 
Who gave me back my child ? " ** Be 

comforted " 
Said Cyril " you shall have ii : " but 

again 
She veil'd her brows, and prone she 

sank, and so 
Like tender things that being caught 

feign death, 
Spoke not, nor stirr'd. 

By this a murmur ran 
Thro' all the camp and inward raced 

the scouts 
With rumor of Prince Arac hard at 

hand. 
We left her by the woman, and with' 

out 



\ 



^^m 



i Ibe graykJiies i 

"Look vou" mad 
Hr ftlher •• tiki our mmpBctbo Inl- 

t a'pollt IhiB cblia ; >hD laughs 

■ell, bc[ lex, and lue 



THE PniNCESS -■ A MEDLET. 



Blie fleUa, or vnr." 






n'iitt 



inuy 



If poselblo 



Willi our slrmnDe cirl; nnd jet Itiey 

Sou I0Y8 lier. OIto lu, then, your 

Bovuj' jrou, war or 111)1?" 

O king." I B^d, " leal from 

litt dBnecmled Bhrlno, tlio Immpled 

oiii'deriiig hoineBtead, and lbs 

LHueliold Jlower 

ODi lliB llutel— kll Uio comnion 

A nooke go up Uiro' -wLlcli I loom to 

Three UmeB ■ moniter ; uow slie Uglit* 

lier pion, ^at tlios 

(And every volte alio taU'd nlUi rittiry 



ilfoo 



Bygeiil 



■or. I«. 



I nighcr UilB sltLo' vi 

louglii liei 

If ling of wlioBo eyelmih is my lonl 
iveriffuuld abe Jove; but brood- 

i™f o""™m, till all my flitlLn 

BUBlit witbin tbo rocon.1 of bei 



■idc?!Sh'St 



duath : and ratbor, \ 



■ bimuit 
bill*. 



Foraotlan, raBllne on hii 

JtotUllKOM BODia wild Bboro wiui jjua 

Or like all old-norld maminoUi bulk'd 



My father. 
Thai Idlo't 



'Tnl, you know lUum uot, 

Ha. 

1 Lear you pmto T almoal 

sgend credible. Look you, 



akin a 



Iieauly of their 
d we tide tliem 
vith them ! Ctc: t 



Tbejio 

WbeedllneBudsldin; 

for tliimu ! 
Coy, there'a 110 row 

to them 
As lie thai does the thing ther darv 

OrealhLiig and eouniling Iwaatenus bal- 

'Witb the air of Ihe tromuet round bbii 

and leap, in 
Among the women, mitree them by ibi 

FUttar-d aud fluatw'd, iriiw, IW 
daab'dnlth death 
ini what 



Your 



'IJier, a good u 



a Hrebriuid — 



To trip a Reread with a HMaaiUdr, 
Were wledom lo 11." 

"YenbulSlr8,"Ic„.,_ 
'' ^Vlld natural need wine uurlM. Tlu J 

^Vhat dares not Ida do that 1 

The aoldior ? I beheld bar whi 
The yoslemigUt, aud aLuriul 

&l30d for her cause, and dangdeAnDoa,! 

Gogellke to man, Oiul hnd nt 

(be death. 
Xo, not the soldier's ; yal 1 hold b 

king, 

Tbathaie aBinin 
Hie violet variea: 
As oak from elm 

dler, one 
The silken prleat of peace, one llilai 

And aome uuwottblly; their tfnkn 

fidth, 
A Tnnlilen moonlbatapnrklesoii ttOf, 
(ilorifying clowli and Mlyr] whanua 

they need 



m the Illy ai 



Mor 



of oultun 



<l Idk.l 



Tbay wortli I1 

aheuJEwiioJal 
you ipeaii. 
My mother, looks as nliota as so 



Eo Ibo law w 

lelorioofallfe? 
gnelielc 



Of so 



irt in til 



THE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



168 






Bat pure as lines of green that streak 

the white 
Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves ; 

Isav, 
Not like the piebald miscellany, man, 
Bursts of great heart aiud slips in sen- 
sual mire, 
But whole and one : and take them all- 
in-all, 
Were we ourselves but half as good, as 

kind. 
As truthful, much that Ida claims as 

right 
Had ne^r been mooted, but as frankly 

theirs 
An dues of Nature. To our point : not 

war: 
Lost I lose all.*' 

** Nay, nay, you spake but sense," 
Said Gaina. ** We remember love our- 

self 
In our sweet youth ; we did not rate 

him then 
This red-hot iron to bo shaped with 

blows. 
Toa talk almost like Ida : aJiecantaXk; 
And iJiere is something in it as you say : 
But you talk kindlier : we esteem you 

for it— 
Ae seems a gracious and a gallant 

Prince, 
I would he had our daughter : for the 

rest, 
Our own detention, why, the causes 

weigh'd, 
fatherly fears — yon used us courte- 
ously — 
\7e would do much to gratify your 

P*rince — 
AVe pardon it ; and for your ingress 

here 
XJpon the skirt and fringe of our fair 

land, 
^ou did but come as goblins in the 

night, 
^or in the furrow broke the plough- 
man's head, 
^or burnt the grange, nor buss'd the 

milkine-maid, 
^or robb'd uie fanner of his bowl of 

cream : 
^ut let your Prince (our royal word 

upon it» 
Se comes back safe) ride with us to 

our lines, 
^nd speak with Arac : Arac's word is 

thrice [done — 

As ours with Ida : something maf be 
1 know not what — and ours shall see 

us friends. 
ToUy likewise, our late guests, if so 

you will, 
Pollow us : who knows ? we four may 

build some plan 
Poursquare to opposition." 

Here he reach'd 
VHiite hands of farewell to my sire, 

who growl'd 
An answer which, half-muffled in his 

beardy 



Let so much out as gave us leaye to 
go. 

Then rode we with the old king 

across the lavms 
Beneath hu^e trees, a thousand rings 

of Spring 
In every bole, a song on every spray 
Of birds that piped their Valeutiues. 

and woke 
Desire in me to infuse my tale of love 
In the old king's ears, who promised 

help, and oozod 
All o' er with honey'd answer as We 

rode ; 
And blossom-fragrant slipt tho heavy 

dews 
Gather'd by night and peace, with each 

light air 
On our niaird heads : but other 

thoughts than Peace 
Burnt in us, when we saw the embat- 
tled squares, 
And squadrons of the Prince, tramp- 
ling the flowers 
With clamor: for among them rose a cry 
As if to greet the king ; they made a 

halt; 
The horses yell'd ; they clash'd theii 

arms ; the drum 
Beat; merrily-blowing shrill'd the 

martial fife ; 
And in the blast and bray of the long 

horn 
And serpent-throated bugle, undulated 
The banner : anon to meet us lightly 

pranced 
Three captains out; nor ever had I seen 
Such thews of men : the midmost and 

the highest 
Was Arac : all about his motion clung 
The sliadow of his sister, as the beam 
Of the East, that play'd upon them, 

made them glance 
Like those three stars of the airy 

Giant's zone. 
That glitter bumish'd by the frosty 

dark; 
And as the fiery Sirlus alters hue, 
And bickers into red and emerald, 

shone 
Their morions, wash'd with morning, 

as they came. 

And I that prated peace, when first I 
heard 

War-music, felt the blind wildbeast of 
force, 

Whose home is in the sinews of a man. 

Stir in me as to strike : tlien took tiie 
king 

His three broad sons ; with now a wan- 
dering hand 

And now a pointed finger, told them all . 

A common light of smiles at our dis- 
guise 

Broke from their lips, and, ere the 
windy jest 

Had labord down within his ample 
lungs, 



w^ 



164 



THE PRINCESS! A MEDLEY. 



:e ill the 

111 iDTodAd, 'adeatli L and iie 
my father wills not 
Aiid, 'HdiHitli I iRjuelC, wlmli care I, war 
But tliflii this question of foia triill> Te- 
a's a ilonnriolit batieat (nean- 
inl.Br: 
Um files too High, she files too l>leb I 

'd bat spate nnil f lUrplay lac l.er 

Bhe preBt mii pceet it ou mo— I tny- 

Wliat_,liii'DW_I of UiMfl ililiiEB? but, 

K-rialit talliina at lier 

Iiajalw flTiu'toa iitidi, 'eaeaUi ! -nlist 

of Uint? 
I taliB Jim toi the flower of womiui- 

■■nd. 
[ often tola lier. right or w mng. 



Bbaiui 



Aiid,Prliic 

And, rle^t 

ttll, 
I Bland npon ber side : sLe niiidii 

ilh— and wilH solemn riles 

oaudle-liBhl— 
IT by St. somellilne— I forget 

Bei tliat talked down tliu llfty «) 

itflOinndBolBw 
BliB vriU uot : » 

in fleld, what bIb. 

Deddea It, 'Bdeath I agiduBt uiy f utl 



^: this is 



will." 



irloa 



ii by brujuletiif 

To cleDTo tlie rift of dlltorenca deeper 

of those two brolheia, half 
_.de 

And fincemii: nt the hair .'\bont Mb Up, 
"^ a on to combat " Like to 

'sgarment hid tho woman's 

A taunt that cleuch'd Ub purposB tilie 

r flei7-Blio(t was Cjril's counter- 




Then spake Ihs third, "BntUiieelt 

Ko mom, and la°"ii^ 

More, nirire, for honor : evBiy captid) 

ansiy tor his kine. 
fifty oil a side, U-^ 

May breaths himself, and guick I 

or these or those, the QueBlIoii sslt 
dla." 

'■ Tea '■ answered t " for thii it 

This (lake of rainbow flylUK on I 

Foam of nien's docdB — this honors tf 



Uor compact," '"Sdea 

send to her." 
S^d Arac, " worthy ri 

Bids by tliii isena : 1 

tLTYl.' 

Andy 



jrhyt 



"Boys!" BhrlflkodUio oltlklnEb 
vaiiaierlhBii a hou 
To her falBB daughtem in the pool ; l 

BsganlBd; neither Besm'a there ma 

Back rods wa to my father'B camp, at 



HeUiricoliBdie 









raid to the I 
would cedi 



w and blew, but 



The third, and those eight daueliten 

of the plouidi 
Cams sallTliiB fliro' the gates, aiid 

cauahtUshair, " ' 

And so belaboc'd him on rih .t..i..>..a» 
They made him wild: i 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



165 



mien storm is on the heights, and 

risht and left 
Suck*d from the dark heart of the long 

hiUs roll 
The torrents, dash*d to the vale : and 

yet her will 
Bred will iu me to overcome it or fall. 

But when I told the king that I was 

pledged 
To fight in tourney for my bride, he 

clash'd 
His iron palms together with a cry ; 
Himself would tilt it out among the 

lads: 
But overborne by all his bearded lords 
With reasons drawn from age and 

state, perforce 
He yielded, wroth and red, with fierce 

demur : 
And many a bold knight started up in 

heat, 
And Bware to combat for my claim till 

death. 

All on this side the palace ran the 
field 

Flat to the garden-wall : and likewise 
here, 

Above the garden's glowing blossom- 
belts, 

A column'd entry shone and marble 
stairs, 

And great bronze valves, emboss'd 
with Tomyris 

And what she did to Cyrus after fight. 

But now fast barr'd : so here upon the 
flat 

All that long mom the lists were ham- 
mered up, 

And all that mom the heralds to and 
fro, 

With message and defiance, went and 
came; 

Last, Ida's answer, in a royal hand. 

But shaken here and there, and roll- 
ins words 

Oration-like. I kiss'd it and I read. 

**0 brother, you have known the 

pangs we felt. 
What heats of indignation when we 

heard 
Of those that iron-cramp'd their wo- 
men's feet ; 
Of htnds in which at the altar the poor 

bride 
Gives her harsh groom for bridal-gift 

a scourge ; 
Of living heists that crack witliin the 

fire 
Where Smoulder their dead despots ; 

and of tliose, — 
Mothers, — that, all prophetic pity, 

fling 
Their pretty maids in the running 

flood, and swoops 
The vulture, beak and talon, at the 

heart 
Hade for all noble :notion : and I saw 



That equal baseness lived in sleeker 

times 
With smoother men : the old leaven 

leaven'd all : 
Millions of throats would bawl for civil 

rights, 
No woman named : therefore I set my 

face 
Against all men, and lived but for 

mine own. 
Far off from men I built a fold for 

them : 
I stored it full of rich memorial : 
I fenced it round with gallant insti- 
tutes. 
And biting laws to scare the beasts of 

, prey, 
And prosper'd; till a rout of saucy 

boys 
Brake on us at our books, and marr'd 

our peace, 
Mnsk'd like our maids, blustering I 

know not what 
Of insolence and love, some pretext 

held 
Of baby troth, invalid, since my will • 
Seal'd not the bond— the striplings I — 

for their sport ! — 
I tamed my leopards : shall I not tame 

these ? 
Or you ? or I ? for since you think me 

touch'd 
In honor— what, I would not aught of 

false — 
Is not our cause pure ? and whereas I 

know 
Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's 

blood 
You draw from, fight ; you failing, I 

abide 
What end soever : fail you will not. 

Still 
Take not his life : he risk'd it for my 

own; 
His mother lives : yet whatsoe'er you 

do. 
Fight and fight well ; strike and strike 

home. O dear 
Brothers, the woman's Angel guards 

you, you 
The sole men to be mingled with our 

cause. 
The sole men we shall prize in the 

aftertime. 
Your very armor hallow'd, and your 

statues 
Bear'd, sung to. when, this gad-fly 

brush'd aside, 
We plant a solid foot into the Time, 
And mould a generation strong to move 
With claim on claim from right to 

right, till she 
Whose name is yoked with children's, 

know herself ; 
And Knowledge in our own land make 

her free, 
And, ever following those two crowned 

twins, 
Commerce and conquest, shower tho 

fiery grain 




THE PniNCESS: A MEDLEY. 



Ot fr«ei1om broadcuit o 
Between ih" Norlheni an 



a. poaticiipt dnsli'd acroc 
are lig no trnitorB In j ou 






nui-Eliilled li 



I : Indoei 



little chn<1 
; wlliuL Blie 

She (biillnat liaveltbocki Uie clillil 

To pHzfl the uutliQntia motlior ot her 



loft: 



mind. 



enderocphon 



Felt at 



ny hes 






I ceased ; he xald : " Stubtiorn, bnt 
tJpan H IdiiK't rlglit iiaiid in Ibutider- 

And breed up nanlon I See now, tho' 

youraeif 
Be dBizlBd by Uie nildlire Lots Io 

aiongbs 
Tbats»ailow I'Doinian sense, tlis splnd- 

Tlilt Oaiim HW&uip'd In ioiy tolentnee. 
Wlien llie man wsnln welglit, tbe wo- 

Aod tjippies down tbe tcalea ; but this 



U 111 to iive wllb, 1 

sbiills 
From Uie to sc.uliei 

Sbiln^ln hia Brm-olmir wlille tbe fires 

Mil with ills hearth : but you— she's 

: utrongi; groom' d and 

t rBidt with those detest- 






That let Qte baniUng scald a 
Their righle nr wrongs lllio t 
Thpy »By she's comely ; tUei 



<d her of her lollj, 
id tbe tFBlnlng of a cliild 



BliT, 

The beannf anc- _, 

is woman's wledont. 

ThDs tbe hard old king: 



UFo: 



wbkli 1 beti 



It wild m 



rning In U 



And on the " Follow, Collow, tbou shs 
I thought ou all the wratlifui ktnglit 
And how [he strange betrothment wi 



Then 



It bum 



King, cfunp. and eoUega tnrn'd tohov 

I soem'dlomoye in old memorial tills, 
And dDinn; battla wlUi fuiliiddBU 

To druata myself the Btuulow ol ( 

dream : 
And ere I woke tl vos the pi^nt at 

Tbe lists were ready. Empanoplleil 

We enlar'd 111, and waited, fifty lliere 
0[i[>oaed to fifty, till the ttumiiet lilanid 
At the barrier like a nihl iioni la a 

Of eehoea. and a momenl^ and onoa 

The ttnmpet, and again ; at ivblcb tba 

Of galloping hoots bare ou the ridge ol 

And lideia front to front, until tbe; 

lu confllet with tbe cnub of Bhiverini 

And thunder. Yet it seem'd B dnon, 

1 dTesm'd 
Of Dgbtlng. Ou Ms bai 



21; ' 



H Intofleryspllnti 
the lire. 



alearttbelft 






XHE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 



167 



Farl stninbled mixt with floundering 

horses. Down 
From those two bulks at Arac's side, 

and down 
From Arac's Aim, as from a giant's flail. 
The large blows rain'd, as here and 

everjrwhere 
He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing 

lists. 
And all the plain, — ^brand, mace, and 

shaft, and shield— 
Shock'd, like an iron-clanging anvil 

baDg'd 
With hammers; till I thought, can this 

be he 
From Gama's dwarfish loins ? if this be 

so. 
The mother makes us most— and in my 

dream 
I glanced aside, and saw the palace- 
front 
AUto with fluttering scarfs and ladies* 

eyes, 
And hijzhest, among the statues, statue- 
like. 
Between a cymbalM Mll'lam and a Jael, 
With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching 

us, 
A single band of gold about her hair. 
Like a Saint's glory up in heaven : but 

she 
Xo saint — inexorable — no tenderness— 
Too hard, too cruel yet she sees me 

fight. 
Tea, let her see me fall ! with that I 

draye 
Amonff the thickest and bore down a 

Prince, 
And Cvril, one. Yea, let me make my 

dxeam 
All that I would. But that large-mould- 
ed man. 
His visage all agrin as at a wake. 
Made at me thro' the press, and stag- 
gering back 
With stroke on stroke the horse and 

horseman, came 
As comes a pillar of electric cloud. 
Flaying the roofs and sucking up the 

c&ains, 
And shadowing down the champaign 

till it strikes 
On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and 

cracks, and splits. 
And twists tbe grain with such a roar 

that Earth 
Beels, and the herdsmen cry ; for 

everything 
Gave way before him : only Florlan, 

he 
That loved me closer than his own 

rigbt eye. 
Thrust in between ; but Arac rode him 

down : 
And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the 

Prince, 
With Psyche's color round his helmet, 

tough, 
Btaxmg, supple, sinew-corded, apt at 

arms; 



But tougher, heavieri stronger, he that 

smote 
And threw him : last I spurr'd ; I f elt 

my veins 
Stretch with fierce heat ; a moment 

hand to hand. 
And sword to sword, and horse to 

horse we hung, 
Till I struck out and shouted; the 

blade glanced; 
I did but shear a feather, and dream 

and truth 
Flow'd from me ; darkness closed me ; 

and I fell. 



Home they broucht her warrior deads 
She nor swooned, nor utter'dcry : 

All her maidens, watching, said, 
" She must weep or she will die." 

Then the^ praised him, soft undlowj 
Caird him worthy to be loved, 

Truest friend and noblest foe ; 
Yet she neither spoke nor moved* ; 

Stole a maiden from her place, 
I-ightly to the warrior stept. 

Took the face-cloth from the face ; 
Yet she neither moved nor wept, 

Koso a nurse of ninety years, 
Set his child upon her knee — 

Liko summer tempest came her tears* 
'* Sweet my child, I live for thee," 

VI. 

My dream had never died or lived 

again. 
As in some mystic middle state I lay ; 
Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard : 
Tho'. if I saw not, yet they told mo all 
So often that I speak as having seen. 

For so it seem'd, or so they said to 

me. 
That all things grew more tragic and 

more strange : 
That when our side was vanquish'd 

and my cause 
For ever lost, there went up a great 

cry. 
The Prince is slain. My father heard 

and ran 
In on the lists, and there unlaced my 

casque 
And OTovell'd on my body, and after 

him 
Came Psyche, sorrowing for AglaYa, 

But high upon the palace Ida stood 
With Psyche's babe in arm : there on 

the roofs 
Like that great dame of Lapidoth she 

sang. 

" Our enemies have fall'n, have 
fall'n : the seed, 
The little seed they laughed at in th« 
dark, 




Has riien anrl cyell Uie buI 
Of tpajileSB glclL, that leyi on 
A tlniiiB.ui.1 ariiig ujid tiib1i« 

" Out enoitilea hare (aU'n, 
fmll'ii : llier cams ; 

toun; lLe;henr>l 
A iioLia of aoiigB they would n 

The; m&rkM IC Wltli Ilia red crou 

Aud woTi^d bSTo Btromi it, u 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 

We vlll be liberal, Bii 



But wa will nialtB It fsgota 

hOMth. 

And BliDDo ii plank aud beam I 


or the 
or roof 


And boat* Hixd bridges tor Uie 


uioof 


"Our enemKa biiTB fall'n 

fsll'ii : Oiuy Hlruck ; 

■Witli llieir own blows lliey hurl 


tbem- 


Thers'dweli an irau uotoro 


n the 


Tlio EUttering aia was broken i 


illieir 



lahstter'dlatbeBliou 



B tall'n, but tblB 



or Autumn, dropping Irul [a of 

and roird 
■mthniuBtfl iu the Browing b 

The lope fhah sUIke Ij-om star 



O maldfl, behold our aane- 
r lawa broken ; fear we 



To bteak them n. 



d In our anunls, and perpetual 
lames and heroines of Iho gold- 



: but dmcend, and prolTe 



The brei 



of 



HKl and oi 



Lie bmleed and 
01 female baads 



lim'J, the leiidec 
hflBpltallty. 
Slie«txike, and with the bube ; 
leipendiiiB. bur^t the great bronw 

^ hutrdred m^ils ij 

l-ark, 
ems cowl'd, and enme bare-headedi 

on thej cama, 
hair feat III ftowBK.liorlovelleit: by 
uinmor'd oii alglilng. and aa tlieii 

I the high tiae Uia bloaaom warep- 
lug tell, 

light """" "'" ' " 

i, ibe; 






And 



lorlng under shade ; bat 

foUon'd : bo they cams: 

Thro' open field Into the Hats they 

TlmDrouBl; ; and as the leader of tbg 

That holds a stately frotwork to ttlB 

Sun, 
Aud follow'd np by a hundred alrj 

Steps wllli a tondar loot, llglil ai on 

The loiieiy. lordly crOBturo floatod on 






I iiayd i 

ne knee,— tbs child on oni 
la, and calVd them dear di 
ly warriorB, i 

YOD shall not lie li 



tenta but Iibtl. 

nnraeit by those for whom joa 

foujdit. and seryed 

'" — '■■ '-— i3s aud hoBpilality." 



And 
■With 

Then, whether moved by ihli, ormi 
She paet my hbj. L'p started from mj 
TbB old lion, glaring wiUi Lis whelp- 
Sllent: but when she aaw me lyiug 
Dislielni'dandmute, and niotlonlamly 



ColdO' 



she BE 






THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



1G9 



She hagsard father's face and reyer- 

end beard 
Of grisly twiue, all dabbled with the 

blood 
Of his own son, shudder'd, a twitch of 

pain 
Tortured her mouth, and o'er her f ore- 
head i)a8t 
A shadow, and her hue changed, and 

she said: 
** He saved my life : my brother slew 

him for it." 
No more : at which the king in bitter 

scorn 
Drew from my neck the painting and 

the tress, 
And held them up : she saw them, and 

a day 
Bose from the distance on her memory, 
When the sood Queen, her mother, 

shore tne tress 
"With kisses, ere the days of Lady 

Blanche : 
And then once more she look'd at my 

pale face : 
Till understanding all the foolish work 
Of Fancy, and the bitter close of all, 
Her iron will was broken in her mind ; 
Her noble heart was molten in her 

breast; 
She bow'd, she set the child on the 

earth ; she laid 
A feeling linger on my brows, and 

presently 
" O Sire," she said, " he lives : he is 

not dead : 
O let me have him with my brethren 

here 
In our own palace : we will tend on him 
Like one of these ; if so, by any means. 
To lighten this great clog of thanks, 

that make 
Our progress falter to the woman's 

goiQ." 

She said : but at the happy word "he 
lives " 

My father stoop'd, re-father'd o'er my 
wounds. 

So those two foes above my fall'n life. 

With brow to brow like night and eve- 
nine mixt 

Their dark and gray, while Psyche ever 
stole 

A little nearer, till the babe that by us, 

Half-lapt in glowing gauze and golden 
brede, 

Lay like a new-fall'n meteor on the 
grass, 

XTncared for, spied its mother and began 

A blind and babbling laughter, and to 
dance 

Its body, and reach its f atling innocent 
arms 
1 And lazy lingering fingers. She the ap- 
peal 

Brooked not, but clamoring out, <' Mine 
—mine — not yours, 

It jbinot yours, but mine ; give me the 



I 



Ceased all on tremble : piteous was the 

cry: 
So stood the unhappy mother open- 

mouth'd. 
And tum'd each face her way : wan 

was her cheek 
With hollow watch, her blooming man- 
tle torn. 
Bed grief and mother's hunger in her 

eye. 
And down dead-heavy sank her curls, 

and half 
The sacred mother's bosom, panting, 

burst 
The laces toward her babe ; but she 

nor cared 
Nor knew it, clamoring on, till Ida 

heard, 
Look'd up, and rising slowly from me, 

stood 
Erect and silent, striking with her 

glance 
The mother, me, the child; but ha 

that lay 
Beside us, Cyril, battered as he was, 
Trail'd himself up on one knee ; then 

he drew 
Her robe to meet his lips, and down 

she look'd 
At the arm'd man sideways, pitying as 

it seem'd. 
Or self -involved ; but when she learnt 

his face, 
Bemembering his ill-omen'd song, 

arose 
Once more thro* all her height, and 

o'er him grew 
Tall as a figure lengthen'd on the sand 
When the tide ebbs in sunshine, and 

he said : 

" O fair and strong and terrible I 

Lioness 
Tliat with your long locks play the 

Lion's mane ! 
But Love and Nature, these are two 

more terrible 
And stronger. See, your foot is on our 

necks, 
We vanquiah'd, you the Victor of your 

will. 
What would you more? give her the 

child! remain 
Orb'd in your isolation : he is dead. 
Or all as dead : henceforth we let you 

be : 
Win you the hearts of women ; and be- 
ware 
Lest, where you seek the common love 

of these, 
The common hate with the revolving 

wheel 
Should drag vou down, and some great 

Nemesis 
Break from a darken'd future, crown'd 

with fire. 
And tread you out for ever : but how- 

soe'er 
Fix'd in yourself, never in your own 

arms 



V 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY 






le child 1 I 

leu Uut b 
>u loved 



T arm tbut dnn- 

Ot own oue part of tense not flint tc 

Cliel^er^hecMldl or it you Bcorn tc 

lay It, 
YounsU, inlands Hlatelj^claspt Willi 






fault 



it youji 



(Sfnelt^/vmeirelClier. 



lolIM 



Aiid- Into monmhJ twillglit mellow- 

^ iiiff, dwelt 
run on Uifl child; Bhotookft:" pretty 

Lndl 
UlyoIUieTBlal half apen'dl>enD[ the 

woods 1 
Colo comfort of my dork hour, when a 

world 
Of trBlIoroai tii«nd and broken eystem 

made 
No purpla In the dietance. invetory, 

old, 
IVo two mnat part : and yet how fain 

din mine, 

Ihy helplew WBimth about my barren 

Aa true to lk^e°Ba f alee, false, f alee la 
And. If Ihon iweda nimt beat tie yoke, 
iliekiaa'dit: 



To dream Ihyoanae ami 
I inlght bu Rumothlng tc 



*' All good go w 



10 In bis hard-moiled 
DundtorsychonsBhe 



..._?tit,w . 



moyc 






71i«n Felt It suvnd and whole from h< 

to toot, 
Andhugg'il. and never hnge'd it cl 

Andlnhcrbungarmonth'd and mi 

bled it, 
AndhldherhOTCmwlthlt: . 



«illy; 






nd wiau^ 




TEE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



171 



"SUm had yoa got a friend of your own 

ago. 
Now could you share your thought ; 

now should men see 
Two women faster welded in one love 
Than pairs of wedlock ; she you walk*d 

with, she 
You talk*a with, whole nights long, up 

in the tower, 
Of sine and arc, spheroYd and azimuth, 
And risht ascension, Heaven knows 

what ; and now 
A word, but one, one little kindly word. 
Not one to spare her : out upon you, 

flint! 
You love nor her, nor me, nor any ; nay, 
You shame yonr mother's judgment 

too. Not one ? 
You will not? well — no heart have 

you, or such 
As fancies like the vermin in a nut 
Have fretted all to dust and bitter- 
ness." 
So said the small king moved beyond 

his wont. 

But Ida stood nor sx>oke, drained of 

her force 
By many a varying influence and so 

long. 
Down thro* her limbs a drooping lan- 
guor wept : 
Her head a little bent ; and on her 

mouth 
A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded 

moon 
In a still water : then brake out my sire 
lifting his grim head from my wounds. 

" O you, 
■Woman,whom we thought woman even 

now. 
And were half fooPd to let you tend 

our son. 
Because he might have wish'd it —but 

we see 
The accomplice of your madness unf or- 

given, 
And think that you might mix his 

draught with death, 
'When your skies change agahi : the 

rougher hand 
Is safer : on to the tents : take up the 

Prince." 

He rose, and while each ear was 

prick'd to attenil 
A tempest, thro* the cloud that dimm'd 

her broke 
A genial warmth and light once more, 

and shone 
Thro* glittering drops on her sad friend. 

" Come hither, 
O Psyche," she cried out, ** embrace 

me. oomOf 
Quick wnile I melt ; make reconcile- 
ment sure 
"With one that cannot keep her mind 

an hour : 
CSome to the hollow heart they slander 

so! 



Kiss and be friends, like children being 

chid! 
/seem no more: I want forgiveness 

too: 
I should have had to do with none bnt 

maids. 
That have no links with men. Ah falsa 

but dear. 
Dear traitor, too much loved, why ?— 

why? — Yet see. 
Before these kings we embrace you yet 

once more 
With all forgiveness, all oblivion, 
And trust, not love, you less. 

And now, O sire. 
Giant me your son, to nurse, to wait 

upon him. 
Like mine own brother. For my debt 

to him. 
This nightmare weight of gratitude, I 

know it ; 
Taunt me no more : yourself andyoum 

shall have 
Free adit ; we will scatter all our maids 
Till happier times each to her proper 

hearth: 
W^hat use to keep them here— now? 

grant my praver. 
Help, father, brother, help ; speak to 

the kiuff : 
Thaw this male nature to some touch 

of that 
Which kills me with myself, and drags 

me down 
From my fixt height to mob me up with 

all 
The soft and milky rabble of woman- 
kind, 
Poor weakling ev*n as they are." 

Passionate tears 
Follow*d : the king replied not : Cyril 

said : 
Your brother. Lady, — Florian, — ask 

for him 
Of your great head— for he is wounded 

too — 
That you may tend upon him with the 

prince.'* 
" Ay so," said Ida with a bitter smile, 
" Our laws are broken : let him enter 

too.** 
Then Violet, she that sang the mourn- 
ful song. 
And had a cousin tumbled on the plain, 
Petition'd too for him. " Ay so," she 

said, 
" I stagger in the stream : I cannot 

keep 
My heart an eddy from the brawling 

hour : 
We break our laws with ease, but let it 

be." 
'* Ay so?" said Blanche: "Amazed 

am I to hear 
Your Highness : but your Highness 

breaks with ease 
The law your Highness did not make : 

*t was I. 
I had been wedded wife. I knew man- 
kind. 



\ 



TUE PRINCESS .■ A MEDLEY. 



1 blook'd thein ont ; but Cbtie m 
Toot ™ItgliJieM- vertly I tliiuk 



ruU'd hj an (mcUK|u& 



3r'J. lull of piet Mid 



" Fling our doom wide t all, a 
oils, liut All, 
Kol only hs, but by my motlmr' 



TUl Ui 



byu| 



trbevlll. I 
mdiel ~ 



Lt bod 



irglrlBllll, 



break* tbo Pbaros f pom 

B»d loft UB rock. She tain would iting 

Jlnt (bttllniJt. PnisB, and iHinglo ullb 

vouiUkaa. 
Wo brook no foitbac Insult but are 



rain. 



Tbenns they lifted 
Etntlgbt Id lbs ilooi 
QrouiliiK, nnd lu t 



i i tbo 1 cry napo ol her 
wllb Indlgiiallon : but tlic 
' came ; Uu> hln^ bor [aUier 
tdeouJ ^UiiTorda: nor did 
proEcr, lastly govo bis 



'Slglltl, 



jrirmilimlB; 
: but great tbo ctUEb was, si 



To lelt and tluht, iT tliot 
In lilkiiTi fluctuRlIon an.l 



Bow-buL-k-dwitbCDar 



DnecndiniF. atmcl; KthmLrt 
A flying Bplaiidor ont of brus i 



BtntstuBlj 
tUrholm, 



Ot trlgbt lu far aptirtiDc 
Ofldawnm 



Tlier 



tbe broad iiain, 
Tbo long-laid Eallorlcs past a bundled 
To one daep c^anibflt ahui liom aoaud, 

Td taiiEttid Itmbs oitil BlckneH; let! 

me in it 5 
And otbeis oUmrubcra tbcy laid ; anil 

all 
That nftrmoon a Bound nnH ot luwf 



TWlinPiJtor ti 

of lllOBB 

llcM sigrm, 1 

From IbOBs't 

ilie wall 

WalkM at tbi 



ralntl 



>lbal lay betide 
. Bill) ereqrlblul 



riUi fold lo told, ofmi 



i 



It man witb Tolling ejes 



these, a!! «ll«nt, 
IT jingled, vblle 



wu tbetr annctuai? TioUtCil. 
p>iiitii»loii : by Bi 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



173 



Sireet order livotl again \7lth other 

laws: 
A kindlier influence reign'd; and 

everywhere 
I4OW voices with the ministering hand 
Hang round the sick : the maidens 

came, they talk'd, 
They sang, they read : till she not fair, 

began 
To gather light, and she that was, he- 
came 
Her former beauty treble ; and to and 

fro 
"With books, with flowers, with Angel 

offices, 
Lilce creatures native unto gracious act, 
And in their own clear clement they 

moved. 

But sadness on the soul of Ida fell. 
And hatred of her weakness, blent 

with shame. 
Old studies faiVd ; seldom she spoke ; 

but oft 
Clorab to the roofs, and cased alone 

for hours 
On that disastrous leaguer, swarms of 

men 
Darkening her female flcld : void was 

her use. 
And she as one that climbs a peak to 

gaze 
O'er land and main, and sees a great 

black cloud 
Drag inwards from the deeps, a wall of 

night, 
Blot out the slope of sea from verge to 

shore. 
And suck the blinding splendor from 

the sand, 
And quenching lake by lake and tarn 

by tarn 
IZxpiuige the world : so fared she gaz- 
ing there : 
So blacken'd all her world in secret, 

blank 
And waste it seem'd and vain ; till 

down she came, 
And found fair peace once more among 
the sick. 

And twilight dawn'd ; and morn by 
mom the lark 
Shot up and shrill'din flickering gyres, 
but I 

Lay silent in the muffled caf of life : 

And twilight gloom'd ; and broader- 
grown the bowers 

Drew the great night into themselves, 
and Heaven, 

Star after star, arose and fell ; but I, 

l>eeperthan those weird doubts could 
reach me, lay 

Quite Bunder'd from the moving Uni- 
verse, 

Nor knew what eye was on me, nor the 
hand 

Thftt nursed me, more than infants in 
thoir sloop. 



But Psyche tended Floriah: with 

her oft, 
Melissa came : for Blanche had gone, 

but left 
Her child among us, willing she should 

keep 
Court-favor : here and there the small 

bright head, 
A light of healing, glanced about th3 

couch. 
Or thro' the parted silks the tender 

face 
Peep'd, shining in upon the wounded 

man' 
"With blush and smile, a medicine in 

themselves 
To wile the length from languorous 

hours, and draw 
The sting from pain ; nor seem'd it 

strange that soon 
He rose up whole, and those fair chari- 
ties 
Join'd at her side ; nor stranger seem'd 

that liearts 
So gentle, so employ'd, should close in 

love, 
Than when two dew-drops on the petal 

shake 
To the same sweet air, and tremble 

deeper down. 
And slip at once all-fragrant into one. 

Less prosperously the second suitob* 

tain'd 
At first witli Psyche. Kot tho' Blanche 

had sworn 
That after that dark night among the 

fields. 
She needs must wed him for her own 

good name ; 
Not tho' he built upon the babe re- 
stored ; 
Nor tho' she liked him, yielded she, 

butfear'd 
To incense the Head once more ; till on 

a day 
When Cyril pleaded, Ida came behind 
Seeu but of Psyche : on her foot she 

hung 
A moment, and she heard, at which 

her face 
A little fiush'd, and she past on ; but 

each 
Assumed from thence a half-consent 

involved 
In stillness, plighted troth, and were at 

peace. 

Nor only these : Love in the sacred 

halls 
Held carnival at will, and flying struck 
With showers of random sweet on maid 

and man. 
Nor did her father cease to press my 

claim, 
Nor did mine own now reconciled ; nor 

yet 
Did those twin brothers, risen again 

and whole ; 
Nor Araci satiato with his victory. 



V 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



But I lay (tin, and irllh me ott ihe 

Tben citnie a Tbnnge ; tot enmellmea I 

Her huiil In wild dolirlam, Gtipe U 

And fling Vt llkn n Tiptit OIT. nndiliriek 
'■ Yon are jiOT Ida ; " cluep A oute 

id c^he'i Ids, Iho' T knev her not. 

And coll LT''hInl mid "culd VMcli 
Kem'd H tniU] : 

Blill Bho fsHf d t)ut I Bliould Hue 
mj mind, 
And oFteu alie beliBTfld iliat 1 «bDuH 



And half Iha wolTi. 



Tin oi 



die: 



longt™ 






when iJooka 



a dead, t1io d 



And WKtrhca 
when iJ< 
Jb'd thui 

vlIIS'Timo^rom all their irtlvor 

outDfVnBinotlBS of hoc kindlier 
davB, 
And Birfelcnig glancos nt my fauier's 

nb ine happy lovers, heart in 

And out of hrtunliiiBs at my Bpoimn 

And Inne)}" llBtonings to mymntler'J 



UiBSe, 
Lots, lik'i an Alplni 



er IntewBt flour! sh'dup, 
leli by touch, audlBist, tu 



ByK. 



uinmlng glaFler ; frail a 
IB <i( llsel 



LoitTvnke 



r'd tolor day by day. 

B, hut weltaigh cIdbo 

a; It waa evening !Bi1=tit 

s painted walls, wliorclu 
. . .'rought 
Two granil dealgnB ; Cor on ona side 



I up In 



volt, a 



the Oppinn law. Titaitio ahapes 



uBh'd n 



thi 
The fori 

tilt . „. 
L dwarf-like Cnto iMHOr'd. On the 

other Bide 
Bortenala spake agiUnst the tax ; be- 

A train of tlampB : liy axe and esile Mt, 
'-Ih all tbfir forehefldt drawuln Ito- 



bIUe ennlled tm 
"id before it] 



The fierce triumvli 

Honan.lo, pleadins : anEfy ku her 

I"»J'^.*™"^ ■ IkMwnoHrtie™ I 
They did but look liko hollow ahtnpa ; 
Sweet Ids : palm to palm aho aat : 
Dwelt in her eyes, siiU softer nU 

And rounder aeeni'il ; i movnl 

Bi4h'd : a loarh 
Came round niy wnsi, and tears u 

Than Bllfor laiignocan.l selr-pltyr 
"■ >iiownmrIa™,auaivit]iwluiiii(a 
And like a flowec that cannot all nti- 
Sodiviith'dtt iB 
Xet,4""'nuiy.t 









ly tBinb 



If you bfliWhatllhlnXyoa.wma , 
ouldbutMkyo'uto fulfll jonm 
t II yon be that Ida whom 1 kiisi 
!k yon notbliiB : oniy, if j, flriwii 






-night. 



die." 
mil J ni 



audBceoi tokiiH n 



0, but 1 



lay Lke oi 

lean hlB burial talk'd of b 

es and ijreadB hin doom, ShB i 

She Btoop'd ; and out iil langaor leapt 

Lenpt flar^PoBilon fcom ILe brfnktcf 

c llvlnaworld i 
.■a at the np.! , 



ibeltev'ei 

TlTl biwk 1 ft 



le Shan 






or falBer aelt allpl ftui 

nd left iier woman, lovelier 
mood 
Thnn In bet mould that other, wlMB 

From barren deeps to conqaer all wllk 

And dowu the stresniin~ crystal dtopl; 

~ " ■ I by the pnrple Island-fldel, 
louble ll^it 111 III,' and wava. 






THE' PRINCESS: A MEDLEY, 



17S 



To meet her Graces, where they deck'd 

her out 
For worship without end ; nor end of 

mine, 
Stateliest, for fhee I but mute she 

{glided forth, 
Xor glanced behind her, and I sank 

and slept, 
Fiird thro' and thro» with Love, a 

happy sleep. 

2>eep In the night I woke : she, near 

me, held 
A Tolume of the Poets of her land : 
There to herself, all in low tones, she 

read. 

•* Now sleeps the crimson i>etal, now 

the white ; 
TSot waves the cypress in the palace 

walk; 
Kor winks the gold fin in the porphyry 

font: 
The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with 

me. 

**Now droops the milk-white pea^ 
rock like a ghost. 
And like a ghost she glimmers on to 
me. 

** Now lies the Earth all DanaS to 
the stars, 
And all thy heart lies open unto me. 

"Now slides the silent meteor on, 
and leaves 
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in 
me. 

•* Now folds the lily all her sweetness 

up, 
And slips into the bosom of the lake : 
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and 

slip 
Into my bosom and be lost in me." 

I heard her turn the page; she found 
a small 
Sweet Idyl, and once more, as low, she 
read : 

** Come down, O maid, from yonder 

mountain height : 
What pleasure lives in height (the 

shepherd sang) 
In height and cold, the splendor of the 

hills ? 
But cease to move so near the Hea- 
vens, and cease, 
To glide a sunbeam by the blasted 

Pine, 
To sita star upon the sparkling spire : 
And come, for Love is of the valley, 

come. 
For Love is of the valley, come thou 

down 
And find him ; by the happy threshold, 

he. 
Or h«nd in hand with Plenty in the 

mfUgQ, 



I 



Or red with spirted purple of the vatB, 
Or foxlike in the vine ; nor cares to 

walk 
With Death and Morning on the silver 

horns, 
Nor wilt thou snare him in the white 

ravine. 
Nor find him dropt upon the firths of 

ice. 
That huddling slant in furrow-cloven 

falls 
To roll the torrent out of dusky doors: 
But follow ; let the torrent dance 

thee down 
To find him in the valley; let the wild 
Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and 

leave 
The monstrous ledges there to slope, 

and spill 
Their thousand wreaths of dangling 

water-smoke, 
That like a broken purpose waste in 

air : 
So waste not thou ; but come ; for all 

the vales 
Await thee ; azure pillars of the heanh 
Arise to thee ; the children call, and I 
Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every 

sound. 
Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is 

sweet ; 
Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro* the 

lawn, 
The moan of doves in immemorial elms, 
And murmuring of innumerable bees." 

So she low-toned ; while with shut 

eyes I lay 
Listening ; then look*d. Pale was the 

perfect face ; 
The bosom with long sighs labor'd ; 

and meek 
Seem'd the full iips, and mild the lu- 
minous eyes, 
And the voice trembled and the hand. 

She said 
Brokenly, that she knew it, she had 

failed 
In sweet humility ; had fail'd in all ; 
That all her labor was br.t as a block 
Left in the quarry ; but she still were 

loath, 
She still were loath to yield herself to 

one, 
That wholly 8corn*d to help their equal 

lights 
Against the sons of men, and barbarous 

laws. 
She pray'd me not to judge their cause 

from her 
That wrong'd it, sought far less for 

truth than power 
In knowledge : something wild within 

her breast, 
A greater than all knowledge, beat her 

down. 
And she had nursed me there from 

week to week : 
Much had she learnt in little time. 14 

part 



T 



rilF. PRINCESS: A UEDLET. 



Birl- 
" Ah fool, nrid randa mjseU a Queen 

tUliik. 
nil ths Hun drop dead from tlie BlgnB." 

ChukMl. Olid lier foretieml BBok upon 

And lier peal li'eail tliro' all the fault' 

(ulPmt 
Went aurniwliig In n paiue I duod nob 

Till iiollco 'g( a. chsnge In tLo dark 

'WullipIiibonlUieu&Glaa. and > bird. 
Tlimt «Mly woka tn t.iBd her UtilH .mfs, 
Sunt ttom e, dowy breutn eiy lor llKbl: 
&lis inoveil, aud at her leet flie volume 
tall. 

" Blame nnt Ihyinir too mneli," I 

■aid, " nor I'Utiib 
Too mueh tha tuni of men and barba- 

rouB lavtH ; 
Tlicaa were ibu rouch waya ol tlie 

world till now. 
Hencefunb thou Last a liolper, me, 

ttiat know 
TbD wDinan'i cause le man's : lliey riao 

Together, dwacfd or godllkoi bonder 

For iha that ont o( Lotlio acalea with 

The ililnlnic BtepB of Katnre, ehaice 

HlanlRhts, hie day«, mores wlUi him 

Stay* all the fair yoang planet hi her 

If (he be ■mull.sUght-natured, inlaeru- 




Ldghi, 



wthe 



reatling Omtn lliat 

'■- - '- faillneli 



Like pcrfwl 



Slie manUl breadtli, 

Kor luee the idiildlike la the 
last ehe »t heiwlf 

» noble 

•on tlieaklrua 

Sit, Bids ij bMb. Iull-«unm'd In all 

DisMniinir harvest, snwIiiK the To^, 

nisdnet in' IniUvldnHlittes. 
But like cauh other eVu a 



Then comea tin 
Then reign Ibt 



lllOKWilB 

atelier Eden back to 

■orld'a great bridali, 

Then Bpriiiga the crowuina jaee c 

mamtlnd. " 

May theSE IhinjiB be ! " 

Tl«, will -■!''*« ■'"■"'•■' 
"Dear, but let na tjpo 
1° "ur own lives, and thte priwd 

or equal ; aoelne either »ei skine 
iBlialf ItBDir. and lii true marriage tie. 
Nor eqnal, nor unequal : caeh liiilllt 
Detect In eaeb, aad always Uioughlln 



a B^le'j 



And agaln-BlghlnB ehn aj 

hst oneo waa mine 1 what wonuii 
iaaghtyouthui V" 

" Alone " I Bald " from earlier tliil 

mnierecd In ilch lorertinJowlagi ol 

loved Iho woman : he, thai dolh not, 

5dtnaweei 



dCHlll, 



«lns'd aff estloiis eltpt wUh 

Yet woB Ihero one thro" whom I loved I 

her. one 
Not learned, uve In graclona 1 

Not p^eet, nay. but full of lender 



'""' 



THE PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. 



Who look'd all naUve to her place, and 

yet 
On tiptoe aeem'd to toach upon a sphere 
Too gross to tread, and all male minds 

perforce 
Sway*d to her from their orbits as thej 

moved. 
And girdled her with music. Happy he 
WiUi such a mother ! faith in woman- 
kind 
Beats with his blood, and trust in all 

things hiffh 
Comes easy to him, aud tho' he trip 

and fall 
He shall not blind his soul with clay.*' 

««ButI," 
Said Ida, tremulously, ** so all unlike— 
It seems you love to cheat yourself 

with words : 
This mother is your model. Ihaveheard 
Of your strange doubts : they well 

might be : I seem 
A mockery to my own self. Never, 

Prince ; 
You cannot love me/' 

«* Nay but thee "I said 
** From yearlong poring on thy pictured 

eyes, 
Ere seen I loved, and loved thee seen, 

and saw 
Thee woman thro* the crust of iron 

moods 
That mask'd thee from men's reverence 

up, and forcett 
Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood : 

now, 
Giv'n back to life, to life indeed, thro' 

thee. 
Indeed I love : the new day comes, the 

light 
Dearer for night, as dearer thou for 

faults 
lived over : lift thine eyes ; my doubts 

are dead, 
My haunting sense of hollow shows ; 

the change. 
This truthful change in thee has kill'd 

it. Dear, 
Look up, and let thy nature strike on 

mine, 
Like yonder morning on the blind half- 
world ; 
Approach and fear not ; breathe upon 

my brows J 
In that tine air I tremble, all the past 
Melts mist-like into XMa bright hour, 

and this 
Is morn to more, and all the rich to- 
come 
Reels, as the golden Autumn woodland 

reels 
Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. 

Forgive me, 
I waste my heart in signs : let be. 

My bride. 
My wife, my life. O we will walk this 

world, 
Yoked in all exercise of noble end, 
And so thro' those dark gates across 

the wild 



177 

Indeed I lova 



That no man knows. 

thee : come. 
Yield thyself up : my hopes and thine 

are one : 
Accomplish thou my manhood and 

thys^f ; 
Lay thy sweet hands in mhie aud trust 

to me." 



CONCLUSION. 

So closed our tale, of which I give yen 
all 

The random scheme as wildly as it rose : 

The words are mostly mine ; for when 
we ceased 

There came a minute's pause, and 
Walter said, 

" I wish she had not yielded ! " then 
to me, 

«* What, if you drest it up poetically I " 

So pray'd the men, the women : 1 gave 
assent: 

Yet how to bind the scattered scheme 
of seven 

Together in one sheaf? What style 
could suit ? 

The men required that I should give 
throughout 

The sort of mock-heroic ({iKantesque, 

With which we bantei-'d little Lilia first: 

The women — and perhaps they felt 
their power. 

For something in the ballads which 
they sang. 

Or in their silent influence as they sat. 

Had ever seem'd to wrestle with bur- 
lesque. 

And drove us, last, to quite a solemn 
close — 

They hated banter, wished for some- 
thing real, 

A gallant nght, a noble princess — why 

Not make lier true-neroic— true-sub- 
lime? 

Or all, they said, as earnest as the close? 

Which yet with such a framework 
scarce could be. 

Then rose a little feud betwixt the two. 

Betwixt the mockers and the realists : 

And I, betwixt them both, to please 
them both. 

And yet to give the story as it rose, 

I moved as in a strange diagonal. 

And may be neither pleased myself nor 
them. 

But Lilia pleased me, for she took no 

part 
In our dispute : the sequel of the 

tale 
Had touch'd her ; and she sat, she 

pluck'd the grains, 
She flung it from her, thinking : last, 

she fixt 
A showery glance upon her aunt, and 

said, 
** You — tell us what w© are " who 

might have told, 



V 







1 




ITS THE PRINCESS: A XEDLHT. 


^1 




Fir Bhe wu cnunm-d with il.vurlei out 


•< nave patience," I teplied, " out. 






olbouki, 








But Uwt UierB tosB a aliout : the saW" 


Ot social wrong; and maybe wUiIe*! 






»q« ^i™«l 








At auiiBot. aiia the crowd ware Evtarin- 








liigi>o». . 








To taHe tlMjli leaTC, aboal llio eacdeii 


For mo, tile genial riay.lheliBppTrrOwil. 






ndlB. 


The sport liaU-acience, fill me' oitli ■ 
TlilB flne old world of ouia U but i 












»e eliml.'d 


oMld 






Th8 Blope to Vlvlau-placa, aiid tnmiiie 


Tet in Uie go-cart. Patience t Girell 








Uioe 






The hTpM -vallej*, Lalliii light, t.id 


To loam io llmhs : there ii a hindtkal 










Gny bal^nlaiie *RU>iig tbelt lutueivo 


In Buch dincauTBe wo eain'd IhA vnr. 






den tails, ' 






Trim EajnlstB ; here and thara a niatlo 


And there »o saw Sir ^Vaiter where he 














Before a tower of crimson holly-oaks, 
Among sU boys, head under h^, aSd 






HhU-Idb^ in helU of liop and breodtliB 






ol wheat ; 


louk'd 






ThB BlitmiDering gUnipBeB ot a Btreaoi ; 


No little my-handed Baronet he. 








^ ^™^hm^; "'"^ '^''"^ ^B- 






A red Ball, or a wlille ; and tar beyond, 






ImsgiiiBii liiora Uiaii aecu, Ihe Bldria 








ol Fraucd. 


A raiser of huge melons und ot uiiie 
A patron of some thirty diarlUes, 






Goilogs (tioiiC^ 


A quartei-sesBiona choiiman, ablei 








Fnirj!12?'d'and roddot than a wludy 






Ood hlB» rtiB narrow tea whiuh keeps 






"^f^' . . ,., 


now S^V lutndB wilh him, mw 
him, of those 






And koepe our Bntaiii, whole wlUiiii 






heraelt, 


That Hood the ucaicBt—now addren'd 






A nation yet, the rulers and tJio rul^rl— 


toBpaeeh- 






--S" """"••"»«""'""' 


■WhoBpoke^few words and pithy, tud> 






Some leTerence for the laws ourselves 


Welcome, ^irewell, and welcoms tor 














Some patloiit (o'rco to change tliem 


To follow: a Bhont roee uaiu, aiid 






when we will. 








Soma civic manliood flnu agaltut the 








But ™ider whiff 1 tharo tonieB a 


From the elms, and shook Hie braudiei 






■uddeti Iliac, 


ot the deer 






The graieit oltlien leems to lose hla 


From slope W alope thro'dlataut fem, 






The king ii»carad,11ie soldier will not 


Beyond the bourn of snniet ; a ashiHiL 






llKbtH 


More toy fui tlian the oity-roai that huli 






The little hoys begin to Bhoot and gWb, 


Premier or king 1 WhjahouhluoiOicw 






A kingdom topple, oyer with a shriek 


great Sin 








CI re up their parks gome doxen tlniH 


1 






To let the people breathe? So UiriM 


J 




In mock heroics stranger then onr own; 


■ 




Ko graver than a achool hoya' barring 


they cried. 


■ 




I likewise, and in gtoupB thejf atream'i 


1 




Too comic' toe the solemn Ihings Ihey 


H 






But we went back tn iho Abbey.aoi W 




Too Bolemn tor the comle tuucLes lu 


sat on, ■ 




them. 


So mpcli the gathering daiknM ■ 




UkeouTwild Princess with us wIbs b 


charm'd ; wb sat M 




dream 


ButBpokenot,cautlniUkmeIeBateTOr lil 
Perhaps upou the future uiaii i Um T 




As Bome ot Ihelrs-God bleu the i.at- 






wallB 1 




t wlsh"lhe¥ were a whole AUanllo 
broad.*' 


Black-n'd about os, hala wheel-d, lal 
owiawhoop'd, 


L 


H 


^1 


1 



ENOCH ARDEN. 



173 



And gradually the powers of the night, 
That rause above the region of the 

wina. 
Deepening the courts of twilight broke 

tiiemup 
Thro' all the silent spaces of the worlds. 
Beyond all thought into the Heayen of 

Ueayeus. 

Last little Lilia, rising quietly, 
Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir 

Balph 
From those rich silks, and home well- 

pleasea we went. 



ENOCH ARDEN. 



JjOSQ lines of cliff breaking have left a 

chasm; 
And in the chasm are foam and yellow 

sands ; 
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow 

wharf 
In cluster ; then a moulder'd, church ; 

and hieher 
A long street ^mbs to one tall-tower'd 

mill , 
And high in heaven behind it a gray 

down 
With Danish barrows; and a hazelwooci, 
By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes 
Greeu in a cuplike hollow of the down. 

Here on this beach a hundred j-ears ago, 
Three childreu of three houses, Annie 

Lee, 
The prettiest little damsel in the x>ort, 
And Jfhilip Ray the miller's only son. 
And Enoch Arden a rough sailor's lad 
Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, 

play'd 
Among the waste and lumber of the 

shore, 
Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing- 
nets. 
Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats up- 
drawn ; 
And built their castles of dissolving 

sand 
To watch them overflowed, or following 

up 
And flyng the white breaker, daily left 
The Uitle footprint daily wauh'd away. 

A narrow cave ran in beneath the 

cUff : 
In this the children play'd at keeping 

house. 
£noch was host one day, Philip the 

next. 
While Annie still was mistress ; but at 

times 
Enoch would hold possession for a 

week: 
•* Xhis ig my house and this my little 

wife." 



*«Mine too" said PhiUp "turn and 

turn about." 
When, if they q uarrell'd, Enoch strong* 

er-made 
Was master ; then would Philip, his 

blue eyes 
All flooded with the helpless wrath of 

tears, 
Shriek out '* I hate you, Enoch,** and 

at this 
The little wife would weep for com- 
pany, 
And pray them not to quarrel for her 

sake, 
And say she would be little wife to 

both. 

But when tho dawn of rosy child- 
hood past, 

And the new warmth of life*s ascend- 
ing sun 

Was felt by either, either fixt his heart 

On that one girl ; and Enoch spoke his 
love. 

But Philip loved in silence ; xind the 
girl 

Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to 
him ; 

But she loved Enoch ; tho' she knew it 
not, 

And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set 

A purpose evermore before his eyes. 

To hoard all savings to the uttermost. 

To purchase his own boat, and make a 
home 

For Annie : and so prosper'd that at 
last 

A luckier or a bolder fisherman, 

A caref uUer in peril, did not breathe 

For leagues along tliat breaker-beaten 
coast 

Than Enoch. Likewise had ho served 
a year 

Onboard a merchantman, and made 
himself 

Full sailor ; and he thrice had pluck'd a 
life 

From the dread sweep of the down- 
streaming seas : 

And all men look*d upon him favorably: 

And ere lie touch'd his one-aud-twen- 
tieth Mav 

He purchased his own boat, and made 
a home 

For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway 
up 

llie narrow street that clamber'd 
toward the mill. 

Then, on a golden autumn eventiilc, 
Tlie younger people making holiday, 
With bag and sack and basket, great 

and small, 
Went nutting to the hazels. Philip 

stay'd 
(His father lying sick and needing him) 
An hour behind: but as he climb'd ttm 

hill, 
Just where the prone edge of the wood 

began 



V 




c hoUovi oC [he 



Tbets, whil e Uie n« were land in mei- 
nod bii dsik hooT oiBeeD, muJ idh 
tag ft litBknig hoiiser lu hli heart. 



Wllh diildic: 

With Ui nm 









tnriiic-up 



'f bui his l>a>l bee 

WTion two lenni liter came n boy lo be 

Tha ron Idol of IiereolitaJee, 

Wbllo linoth wu abioad uii «TiLth[ul 

Or otten Journsjilng landwortl ; tor In 

±-t wUW horeo, mid Enoch's 

!eaiwimell™g .aler. iiul h1> fnoe, 

l(iiugli.reil<]e n'd with a Ihcnuoaa wiuuc 

only lo Ihe maiket-crosi were 

In tlwleafTlnneiibelilnil'Jie down 
. . ulUie porUl-warillTiB lioii-whclp, 
AnJ jwaroclt-jewtroa of tlie lonufy 



Hai; 



nil vldngB 



Tiiirrhl^niitrniliailln.i iiiMijiu 



Aud nhite be pnT*!!, Ibc muter st 

thaL*hip 
£Doch Ii34 vened id, bearing his mls- 



anr vwki heftan lb* 



^rr"" 



Chflllcdl 



ime a change, 

Ten mliestoiiDTlliWiiril i 

Open'd a larger haven : 

a when there, and chunlwriug 
r. by mlmiluuiiie lia slipt and 

A limb was broken whan the; lilted 

Aiid while he Iny reanvbring there, kU 



Then Enoch lay Ifiur^-ponderiug en hit 
To nell the boaL--and yet ho loved lier 

Itow maiiT a longh aea bad he weaLh- 

erMiiiherl 
He knew her, as a honemaa kiLen< 

Ilia horse— 
And jot to Bell her— then wltU whK ilii 

bmught 
Bay goods and i 

Hollt 

lo might Bho keep the houie while h« 

ShonldhenDttcadeMmaelfoutfanilar! 
go 
yage more than once ? yea twice 



And psffi Ma days tu peaee Mnont bU 



ENOCH ARDEN. 



181 



Tlmfl Enoch in his henrt determined 

aU : 
Then moving homeward came on Annie 

pale, 
Nnrsins the sickly babe, her latest- 

Dom. 
Forward she started with a happy cry, 
And laid the feeble infant inhiit arms ; 
Whom Enoch took, and handled all his 

limbs, 
Appraised his weight and fondled 

father^liko, 
But had no lieart to break bis purposes 
To Annie, till the morrow, when he 

spoke. 

Then first since Enoch's golden ring 

had girt 
Her finger. Annie fought against his 

will ; 
Yet not with brawling opposition she, 
But manifold entreaties, many a t«ar. 
Many a sad kiss by day by night 

renew'd 
^ure that all evil would come-out of it) 
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared 
For her or his dear children, not to go. 
He not for his own self caring but her. 
Her and her children, let her plead in 

vain ; 
So grieving held his will, and bore it 

thro. 

For Enoch parted with his old sea- 
friend. 

Bought Annie goods and stores, and set 
his hand 

To fit their little streetward sitting- 
room 

With shelf and comer for the goods 
and stores. 

So all day long till Enoch's last at home 

Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer 
and axe. 

Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to 
hear 

Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill' d 
and rang, 

Till this was ended, and his careful 
hand, — 

The space was narrow,— having order'd 
all 

Almost as neat and close as Nature 
packs 

Her blossom or her seedling, paused ; 
and he, 

Who needs would work for Annie to 
the last. 

Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn 

And Enoch faced this morning of 

Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's 

fears. 
Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to 

him. 
Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man 
Bow'd himself down, and in that 

mystery 
Where God-in-man is one with man- 

iu-God, 



Pray*d for a blessing on his wife and 

babes 
Whatever came to him : and then he 

said 
** Annie, this voyage by the grace of 

God 
Will bring fair weather yet to all of us. 
Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire 

for me, 
For I'll be back, my girl, before you 

know it." 
Then lightly rocking baby's cradle 

'* and he, 
Tills pretty, puny, weakly little one, — 
Nay— for 1 love him all the better for 

it^ 
God blcBs him, he shall sit upon my 

knees 
And I will tell him tales of foreign 

parts, 
And make liim merry, when I come 

home again. 
Come Annie, come, cheer up before I 

go." 

Him running on thus hopefully she 
heard 

And almost hoped herself.; but when 
he turn'd 

l%e current of his talk to graver things 

In sailor fashion roughly seimonizing 

On providence and trust in Heaven, 
she heard. 

Heard and not heard him : as the vil^t 
lage girl. 

Who sets her pitcher underneath the 
spring. 

Musing on him that used to fill it for 
her. 

Hears and not hears, and lets it over- 
flow. 

At length she spoke ** O Enoch, you 

are wise ; 
Andyet for all your widsom well know I 
That I shall look upon your face no 

more." 

" Well then »' said Enoch, " I shall 
look on yours. 
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here 
(He named the day) ; get you a sei^ 

man's glass, 
Spy out my face, and laugh at all your 
fears." 

But when the last of those last mo- 
ments came, 

"Annie, my girl, cheer up, be com- 
forted, 

Ix>ok to the babes; and till I come 
again. 

Keep everything shipshape, for I must 

go- 
And fear no more for me ; or if you fear 

Cast all your cares on God ; that an- 
chor holds. 
Is he not yonder in those uttermost 
Parts of the morning ? if I flee to these 
Can I go from him ? and the sea is His, 
The sea is His : He made It." 




ESOCB JtlDES. 



And kl«M 'l>l* woailnt-tlrielltn Uisie 



Rcmaaibfir llil* V " uhI klw'd Um In 

Uut Auuio trom her bnl^j"* (utBlte»a 

A iLnT earl, uil nTe It : Uila Iw kept 
Tliro'»t1 111* future i bat iuk iiatUlj 

UU Inliiillc. wtTcil lill luuul, Uul went 

Slwwlicnilie di». Uul Eii^li meii- 
norrowM n glUH. but all lu tbIu ; pcr- 
Slia could not lix Ilia gluu toBultlier 
Porliip.lirr cyo *a. lUiii.liond iremu- 



onUUU 
Aftcialin^ii 



'trt ■ Itncerinc, — an fl^* mamwavCf— 
I ii I ilTiiliii ■[Htmliliiij. 



Kv'n lo IhB luldl]) of the TUiL'hiiig 
(tlid ilfipBrtiid weeping 



phlUp'a 

(Sinn ^ti£^^ k« had witlH^J 

Bponberl. 
Smote kiin, u haTias kept ■lodl M 

" Saitlj " uid Philip " I ami •» ha 
Ma; lie wine little coiiifiirt" then- 
Part thro' the lolituj Toom la trpat. 
Then utruck It thriee, baU* ih> ou» 

Eoterd : but Xunle, aeUsd vllb bM 

grief, 
Fre>h from IbB burial of hm Uttloiaw 
CateduoLio look oii tuy huniaufan 
But tuni'dhei uwu lenaia the uiU 

Then Philip alainllng up aald lalier. 

" Annie. icamatoaskBlaTOTotyan.'' 

lie (poke; IheiMiHlou inbernnian^ 



.' alie ' 



She I 

Diet 

SotliorB^wlirioleiito «li 
hli, 
throve notln bcr tnide, 

iBcter. nor compenakUni; 
ibrewdiieH, pclttier capat 

I itlir forehcdiiig -whi 



Enorh.yourliUBhiuid; 
Yon cliuae the beat ami 



Fori 



Eiinc 



"1''L . 






r dim- 



And pwMuro, hod thu (old h«r wivrea 

Tlian vrhatsliE bbtc In linyluB wliat ulio 

Ihefnll'd mid iBddrn'd kiioxiDC It; 

ana tliua, 
JxpMtftiit o[ that newB -which never 

(laln'd forlwrownasrantysQ 



'or where ha fixtidd heart ho » 

luind 
ru do the thing lie will'd, nml bun » 

t.nd wlierofore did he bo thiawearr 

?ot ploaaure ?— nay, hut lor Uia w 
To give hie babea a better hrinfrln^p 



■d lived 



, life of elleu 
Udrdcldldwna nlukly-bom 



i>oh<.ly. 



Thou hia had been 
■ • iBh. 

find Ihe jireinouB 



tTIUi allamother*! 
WlMttaerhBt huali 







ENOCH ARDEN. 



183 



Have we not known each other all our 

lives ? 
I do bcseoch you hy the love you bear 
Uim and bis children not to aay me 

nay— 
For, if you will, when Enoch comes 

again 
Why then he shall repay me— if yon 

will, 
Annie— for X am rich and well-to-do, 
Now let me put the boy and girl to 

school : 
This is the favor that I came to ask." 

Then Annie with her brows against 

the wall 
Answer'd " I cannot look you in the 

face ; 
I seem so foolish and so broken down. 
When you came in my sorrow broke 

me down ; 
And now I think your kindness breaks 

me down ; 
But Enoch lives ; that is borne in on 

me : 
He will repay you : money can be 

repaid; 
Kot kindness such as yours.*' 

And PhiUp ask'd 
•* Then you will let me, Annie ? " 

There she tum'd. 
She rose, and flxt her swimming eyes 

upon him, 
And dwelt a moment on his kindly 

face. 
Then callins down a blessing on his 

head 
Caught at his hand, and wrung it pas- 
sionately, 
And past into the little garth beyond. 
So lifted up in spirit he moved away. 
Then Philip put the boy and girl to 

school. 
And bought Uiera needful books, and 

everyway, . 
Like one wno does his duty by his 

own, 
Made himself theirs ; and tho* for 

Annie's sake, 
Fearing the lazy ffossip of the port, 
He oft denied his neart his dearest wish 
And seldom crost her threshold, yet 

he tent 
Gifts by the children, gnrden-herbs 

and fruit. 
The late and early roses from his wall. 
Or conies from the down, and now and 

then. 
With some pretext of fineness in the 

meal 
To save the offence of charitable, flour 
From his tall mill that whistled on the 

waste. 

But Philip did not fathom Annie's 
mind : 
Scarce could the woman when he came 
upon her, 



Out of full heart and boundless grati« 

tude 
Light on a broken word to thank him 

with. 
But Philip was her children's all-in- 
all ; 
From distant comers of the street they 

ran 
To greet his hearty welcome heartily ; 
Lords of bis house and of his mill were 

they ; 
Worried his passive ear with petty 

wrongs 
Or pleasures, hung upon him, play'd 

with him 
And call'd him Father Philip. Philip 

gain'd 
As Enoch lost ; for Enoch seem'd to 

them 
Uncertain as a vision or a dream. 
Faint as a tigure seen in early dawn 
Down at the far end of an avenue. 
Going we know not where : and so ten 

years. 
Since Enoch left his hearth and native 

land. 
Fled forward, and no news of Enoch 

came. 

It chanced one evening Annie's chil- 
dren long'd 

To go with otliei'K. nutting to the wood. 

And Annie would go with them ; then 
they bege'd 

For Father Philfp (as they call'd him) 
too : 

Him, like the working bee in blossom- 
dust, 

Blanch'd with his mill, they found ; 
and saying to him 

"Come with us Father Philip" he 
denied ; 

But when the children pluck'd at him 
to go, 

He laugh'd, and yielded readily to 
their wish. 

For was not Annie with them? and 
they went. 

But after scaling half the weary 

down. 
Just where the prone edge of the wood 

began 
To featlier toward the hollow, all her 

force 
Fail'd her ; and sighing " let me rest " 

she said : 
So Philip rested with her well-content; 
While all the vounger ones with jubi- 
lant cries 
Broke from their elders, and tumul- 

tuouply 
Down thro' the whitening hazels made 

a plunge 
To the bottom, and dispersed, and bent 

or broke 
The lithe reluctant boughs to tear 

away 
Their tawny clusters, crying to earli 

other 



ENOCH ARDEN. 



185 



And there ho Btood once more before i 

her face, 
ClaUning her promise. *^ Is it a year ? " 

uie ask'd. 
•« Tes, if the nuts" he said « be ripe 

again : 
Ck>me out and see.*' But she — she 

put him off — 
So much to look to — such a change — 

a month — 
Give her a montli — she knew that she 

was bound — 
A month — no more. Then Philip with 

his eyes 
Pull of that life^Iong hunger, and his 

voice 
Shaking a little like a drunkard*s hand, 
*' Take your own time, Annie, take 

your own time." 
And Annie could have wept for pity of 

him; 
And yet she held him on delayingly 
"With many a scarce-believable excuse. 
Trying his truth and his long-suffer- 
ance. 
Till half-another year had slipt away. 

By this the lazy gossips of the port, 

Abhorrent of a calculation croet, 

Segan to chafe as at a personal wrong. 

Some thouffht that Philip did but trille 
wim her ; 

Some that she but held oH to draw 
him on ; 

And others laugh*d at her and Philip 
too, 

As simple folk that knew not their 
own minds ; 

And one, in whom all evil fancies 
clung 

Idke serpent eggs together, laughing- 
ly 

"Would hint at worse in either. Her 
own son 

"Was silent, tho* he often look'd his 
wish ; 

But evermore tlie daughter prest upon 
her 

To wed the man so dear to all of them 

And lift the household out of pover- 
ty ; 

And Philip's rosy face contracting 
grew 

Careworn and wan ; and all these 
things fell ou her 

Sharp as reproach. 

At last one night it chanced 
That Annie could not sleep, but eari * 

estly 
Pray*d for a sign "my Enoch is ho 

gone ?" 
Then coropassM round by the blind 

wall of night 
Brook'dnot the expectant terror of 

her heart, 
Started from bed, and struck herself a 

light, 
Tben desperately seized the holy Book, 
Snddeuly set it wide to find a 9,\g»j 



Suddenly put her finger on the text, 
** Under the paltn-tiee." That was 

nothing to her ; 
Xo meaning there : she closed llio 

Book and slept : 
When lo ! her Enoch sitting on a 

height, 
Under a palm-tree, over him the Sun : 
*• Ho is gone" she thought "he is 

happy, he is singing 
Kosanna in the highest: yonder shines 
The Sun of Righteousness, and these 

be palms 
Whereof the happy people strewing 

cried 
* Ilosanna in the highest ! * " Here she 

woke, 
Resolved, sent for him and said wildly 

to him 
" Thero is no reason why we should not 

wed." 
" Then for God's ScVKje," he answerM, 

** both our hakes, 
So you will wed me, let it be at once." 

So these were wed and merrily /ang 

the bells, 
Merrily rang the bells and they were 

wed. 
But never merrily beat Annie's heart. 
A footstep seemed to fall beside her 

path, 
She knew not whence ; a whisper on 

her ear, 
Gho knew not what ; nor loved she to 

be left 
Alone at home, nor ventured oat alone. 
What ail'd her then, that ere she 

enter'd, often 
Her hand dwelt lingeringly ou the 

latch, 
Fearing to enter : Philip thought he 

knew : 
Such doubts and fears were common to 

her state. 
Being with child : but when her child 

was born. 
Then her new child was as herself 

renew'd, 
Then the new mother came about her 

heart. 
Then her good Philip was her all-in- 
all, 
And that mysterious instinct wholly 

died. 

And where was Enoch ? prosper- 
ously sail'd 
The ship «' Good Fortune," tho' at set 

ting forth 
The Biscay, )oughly ridging eastward, 

shook 
And almost overwhelm'd her, yet 

unvext 
She slipt across the summer of the 

world, 
Then after a long tumble about the 

Cape 
And frequent intcicha.ti%"& q^ l»\iN. ^Xki^ 

fair 



! 



i 






ENOCH ARDEN. 



I Till alleiiciu hec orlanUI liaren. 
TlorB EnofJi traded for liiniBolf, nnd 
bouffhc 
Quaint monsteni lor tlia msrliat of 

A clIilBd draguu, aim, Eur tlio babcB. 

Ijibii lucky her honny-Tojago : atflrBt 
Thro' nuiny » fslr Bca^ircle, day by 
Scarce-roi-klue, hat full-lmaUd llguro- 
tbe rlpplo IcDUioring froDi 



TbsD lollaw-d'ca'luu, atid then wit 
vartitble, 

Slotm, mcli ta dravo lirr under moe 

Till liard upou lb« cry o£ '• breoken 

TliQ <?ruh of niiu, nnil tho loH pf al 
But IfAiocli BUd two otlien. lliOf I 

Iilglit, 
Baoy'd uponfloBtln" taclilo ami liroV 

Tbeie drifted, strnnding on tax Isle 



Boftfrultage, mighty una, and V 

Knr aula for iiUv wna It hard It 
The liolplesit lUu bu wild iJial 



a«If lint, ha5f uallVa caveni. 



e, Iha yonneeat, hardly mors 
Huit In tbat night of sudden ruin and 
Lay Ilnaaring out ■ Drp-yeara" death- 



They could 



lesve lilt 
iiliiii'gfoundafiilh 



Aflcr he 



Plre-holloBdng tl 



Tho nuiuntaln wooded to Ihi 

And "^"^«8 Bl^™ high np llKa wj. 

Tho alendcr roeo's drooping ctowi ' 

The llgiTciilng 'floah o( insect an. 

The luslro of the long ronrnlTulus 
That cotl'd around tlia sIMcly au 

ET'n lo the limit of tlie land, 

And gloiiea of the broad Mt at 

Aimie«ehoii«w;but whathe&lnijiij 

Ha could not see, the kindly iamOt 

Sor aver hcarn kindly Tolee, hut hfud 
'llie myriad elimik of wheeling oeam- 

The le^fi-iojip! roller tbuudaring 

The moving whisper of Jiuge Irees OM 

Aiid blnsBoni-d in tlio aenlUi, or 



Of Bome pradpit 


OUB rivillrt W IM 


Aa down tho aha 


e ha ruiged, or ^ 


ZTJSiT. 



Ko Htjl from dft; to day, but stity 



Iho blaze upon llie watf ni to tlie wm 
Then the Kieat siara tliai ghibwl tb» 

rha botlower-beliowlug ocean, u 
rho Bcartet shafts of stinrlie— but' 
Tliaro often as he wnlclt'd or coin 
en Ihuuxl on liln 
of many phantaim 
Before him baundng bfm,orbelilD- 



TbedlinblnKSIJeet.lhe mill, the 
The pearork-yewtiee and the kmsjj 



2N0Cn AUDEX. 



187 



rse ho drove, the boat he sold, 

the chill 

ber dawns and dewy-glooming 

downs, 

ntle shower, the smell of dying 

leaves, 

le low moan of leaden-color*d 

seas. 

likewise, in the ringing of his 
ears, 

aintly, merrily — far and far 
away — 

ird the pealing of his i>arish 
bells ; 

Iho' he knew not wherefore, 
started up 

ring, and when the beauteous 
hateful isle 

'd upon him, had not his poor 
heart 

with That, which being every- 
where 

•ne, who speaks with Him, seem 
all alone, 
the man had died of solitude. 

over Enoch's early-silvering 
head 

my and rainy seasons came and 
went 

rter year. His hopes to see his 
own, 

ce the sacred old familiar fields, 
t had perish'd, when his lonely 

doom 

suddenly to an end. Another 

ship 

in ted water) blown by baflUng 

winds. 

le Good Fortune, from her des- 
tined course, 
by this isle, iiot knowing where 

she lay : 
Lce the mate had seen at early 

dawn 

a break on the mist-wreathen 

isle 
lent water slipping from the 

hills, 
tent a crew that landing burst 

away 
ch of stream or fount, and fill'd 

the shores 
clamor. Downward from his 

mountain gorse 

lie long-hair'd long-bearded soli- 
tary, 

, looking hardly human, strange- 
ly clad, 
ing and mumbling, idiot like it 

seem'd, 
inarticulate rage, and making 

signs 
cnew not what : and yet he led 

the way 
ere the rivulets of sweet water 

ran; 

rer as he minsled with the crew, 
i«»aTd them talking, his long- 

bounden tonioie. 



Was loosen'd, till he made them un- 
derstand ; 

Whom, when their casks were fillM 
they took aboard : 

And there the tale he utter'd broken* 

ly. 

Scarce-credited at first but more and 

more, 
Amazed and melted all who listen'd 

to it: 
And clothes they gave him and free 



passage home ; 
;hc 



But oft he work'd among the rest and 

shook 
His isolation from him. None of these 
Came from his county, or could answer 

him. 
If question^, aught of what he cared 

to know. 
And dull the voyage was with long 

delays, 
The vessel scarce sea-worthy ; but 

evermore 
His fancy fle<l before the lazy wind 
lieturnbig, till beneath a clouded 

moon 
He like u lover down thro* all his blood 
Drew in the dewy meadowy morning 

breath 
Of England, blown across her ghostly 

wall: 
And that same morning officers and 

men 
Levied a kindly tax upon themselves. 
Pitying the lonely man, and gave him 

it: 
Then moving up the coast they landed 

him, 
Ev'n in that harbor whence he sail'd 

before. 

There Enoch spoke no word to any 

one, 
But homeward — home — what homA? 

had he a home ? 
His home, he walk'd. Bright was that 

afternoon, 
Sunny but chill ; till drawn thro* either 

chasm. 
Where either havens open*d on the 

deeps, 
Boird a sesrhaze and whelm*d the 

world in gray : 
Cut off the len^h of highway on be- 
fore, 
And left but narrow breadth to left and 

light 
Of wither^l holt or tilth or pasturage. 
On ihe nigh-naked tree the Robin 

piped 
Disconsolate, and thro* the dripping 

haze 
The dead weight of the dead leaf bore 

it down : 
Thicker the drizzle grew, deeper the 

gloom; 
Last, as It seem*d, a great mist-blotted 

light 
Flared on him, sad he came upon the 

place. 



ENocn 

iBn ilonri Iha long itieot Imviag 
»lowly ■tolon, 
Hja heart lareshadowing mil calamltr. 



In t 



1 Iir- 



o'etlilict 



No BhBdow past, nor motion : aiiyoBO, 
Kegarding, well Lut duem'd ho Ci^lt tlio 

Loi Oaai the tellac : oiilj- when eha 



Aealn In deape 



"U ImWi'ioo^ oi 



Haunted and harasa'd h 



At creiilng when. Ihs daU ^ort 
Was grOBlns dnllar twillslil, t 



id Iffved Mm I and 



Due finding neither light lie 

there 
(A Wll o( ule aleam'd Uuo" the drin- 

CtlU downward thlnlcliig ■' dsad or da 

I>oim to the pool and nurtow M'bE 
be Wfliit. 
Eeeltinna taTSm wUaU of old . 

A front of Uniber-rrOBt antiquity. 

He thought it must have gone) uut. 

'Who kept it; and hb widow, Mldt 

ynth daily-dwIndUn; profits held t 

A haant of brawlinj Boomon mice, bnt 

Stiller, with jet a bod for 



Xot knowing— Enoch was bo brow 

So broken — all the atorj- of his honi 
His baby'B death, her growing jioveny, 
How Philip put her liiUe one* to 

And kept them In it, bis long wooing 

Hei slow content, and marriage, 

the l)lrth 
Of Philip's child : 



The i-uddy Bguare oC con 

Allared liin 
The bird o 

For PI""" 
TTllh one t 



» 




And o'er her second faiher itoop" 

A later but a loftier Annie Lee, 
Falr-haii'd ajid tall, aud tiom bn If 

edhand 
Dangled a length of ribbon and lini 
To tempt the tnbe, who nor'ii* 

Cnughtat and over tniss'dit, sal t^ 

And on the left hand of Ibehesr**' 

The mother glancing often lOfsnl ** 

But taming' now and then to ip^ 

withhhn, . . 

Her son, who stood beside b«r tall •" 

And sa^ng ibat which pleased Ui*' 

Now when the dead man seat W ' 
beheld 
His u-ife his wife do luore.aadia' 



ENOCH ARDEN. 



189 



Hen, yet not his, upon the father's 

And an the wannth, the peace, the 

happinesR. 
And his own children tall and beauti- 
ful, 
And him. that other, reigning in his 

place, • 

Lord of his rights and of his children's 

love,— 
Then he, tho* Miriam Lane had told 

him all. 
Because things seen are mightier than 

things heard, 
8tagger*d and shook, holding the 

branch, and fear*d 
To send abroad a shrill and terrible 

cry» 
Which in one moment, like the blast 

of doom, 
Would shatter all the happiness of the 

hearth. 

He therefore turning softly like a 
thief, 

X«est the harsh shingle should grate 
underfoot, 

And feeling all along the garden-wall, 

liest he should swoon and tiunble and 
be found. 

Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and 
closed, 

As lightly as a sick man's chamber- 
door, 

Behind him, and came out upon the 
waste. 

And there he would have knelt, but 

that his knees 
Were feeble, so that falling prone he 

dug 
His fingers int6 the wet earth, and 

pray'd. 

"Too hard to bear! why did they 

take me thence ? 
O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, 

Thou 
That didst uphold me on my lonely 

isle, 
Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness 
A little longer 1 aid me, give me 

strength 
Not to tell her, never to let her know. 
Help me not to break in upon her 



peace. 
Idrento 



My children too I must I not speak to 

these? 
They know me not. I should betray 

myself. 
Kever: no father's kiss for me — the 



girl 
nei 



80 like ner mother, and the boy, my 



■on. 



»» 



There speech and thought and na- 
ture fail'd a little. 
And he lay tranced ; but when he rose 
and paced 
towani his solitary home aeain. 



All down the long and narrow street ho 

went 
Beating it in upon his weary brain, 
As tho^it were the burden of a song, 
"Not to tell her, never to let ner 

know." 

He was not all unhappy. His resolro 
Upbore him, and firm faith, and ever- 
more 
Prayer from a living source within the 

will, 
And beating up thro' all the bitter 

world, 
Like fountains of sweet water in the 

sea, 
Kept him a living soul. " This miller's 

wife " 
He said to Miriam ** that you told mo 

of, 
Has she no fear that her first husband 

lives?" 
**Ay, ay, poor soul" said Miriam, 

** fear enow I 
If you could tell her you had seen him 

dead, 
Why, that would be her comfort;" 

and he thought 
"After the Lord has call'd me she 

shall know, 
I wait His time " and Enooh set himself 
Scorning an alms, to work whereby to 

live. 
Almost to all things could he turn his 

hand. 
Coox>er he was and carpenter, and 

wrought 
To make the boatmen fishing-nets, or 

help'd 
At lading and unlading the tall barks. 
That brought the etiuted commerce of 

those days ; 
Thus cam'd a scanty living for him- 
self : 
Yet since he did but labor for himself, 
Work without hope, there was not life 

in it 
Whereby the man could live ; and as 

the year 
Roll'd itself round again to meet the 

day 
When Enoch had retum'd, a languor 

came 
Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually 
Weakening the man, till he could do 

no more. 
But kept the house, his chair, and last 

his bed. 
And Enoch bore his weakness cheer- 
fully. 
For sure no gladlier does the stranded 

wreck 
See -.^hro' the gray skirts of a lifting 

squall 
The boat that bears the hope of life 

approach 
To save the life despair'd of, than he 

saw 
Death dawning on him, and the close 

of all. 



-V 



190 ENOCn 

For tluo' Uuit dnwnlng gleun 



Ha call'd nloud for Sllrlam Lane and 
uld 

Bcrore ItBllTon— swaarupdii lie book 
Not tu rBTeafit, till you Ke mo dead." 
"Dasd" elftmor'd the good -woniMi 
-lieBTlilniUlk t 

"Sttbbt" added Enoch Btenily "on 

And on the book, hKU-trlghCed, Mlrlsiin 

Then EiHwh tolling hla gray eyes upon 

Jmr, 
"Did you know Enoch Anlen of tblB 

"Know him?" she iald" I knewhlm 

-^Ti "yi 1 mind Mm coming down the 

Held hlB head high, and <:arcd for no 

Siowiy and Midly Enoch aiiawer'd her; 

foe him. ' 
I IJilnk I hBTD not three days more to 

Ilvej 
I omtbenian." At'irlilch the noman 

AhnK-incrodnlouB.half-hyBtericBlcry. 



"YouArden.youiuay,- 



My grief and lolltude have broken 

NoTerthuleis. know J-ou that I lua he 
WLo married -but that name ha" 

I married her who marrR-d Philip Ray. 



HlB wreck. iTiB lonely life, biB coming 

HlB gazing In on Annie, Mb resolve. 
And liDWlie kept it. As the woman 



To ruBh abroad all ronnd the little 
Proclaiming knoeh Arden and his 
But awed aiid piomlBo-bounden abe 
Baying onlj-"8ea your baltnB before 
Th, let mo [etch 'em, Arden," and 
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch 



ARDEN. 

A moment on her won 
■' Woman, dlstorb mi 



While I hiTB power to apeak. I q 

When you alioll Bee her, tell her UiK I 

died 
Blessing her, praying (or het, l< 



""C?^ 



tor har. 



tien the laid her head bciidt nj 
lell my danghler Ann 

<lng her and pnyhil, 
that I died bloEl 
Ind say to Philip that I blcBt 1 



For my dead fai 

life. 
And noBt there 

blood 






Tliiohalrishlg: she cut it otf and i 

And I hnve borne it with me all Hat 

And tbought'to bear It with 

But now my mind 1* changed, Kl I 

shall Bee him. 
My babe in bllaa : whorefors wkial 

Take, gl re her this, for It may cnaiM 

It will moreover be a token to hn, 

That I am he." 

Hece 






:o again ho roll'd hlieyes np* 



And Miriam watch'd and doxed at U 
There eame bo loud a calliLig ot II 
That all the houei In tbe bavaa IM| 



AYLMEWa FIELD. 



101 



ITe woke, he rose, he spread his arms 

abroad 
Crying with a loud voice " a sail ! a 

sail I 
I am saved ; " and so fell back and 

spoke no more. 

So past the strong heroic soul away. 
And when they buried him the Utile 

port 
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral* 



AYLMER'S FIELD. 
1793. 

Dust are our fmmes; and, gilded 

dust, our pride 
Looks only for a moment whole and 

sound ; 
Like that long-buried body of the 

king, 
^ound Ijringwith his urns and oma^ 

ments, 
"Wliich at a touch of light, an air of 

heaven, 
Sllpt into ashes and was found no 

more. 

Here is a story which in rougher 

shape 
Oame from a grizzled cripple, whom I 

saw 
finnning himself in a waste field 

alone — 
Oldy and a mine of memories— who had 

served, 
X^ng since, a bygone Rector of the 

place, 
.Ajid been himself a part of what he 

told. 

Sib Atlmeb Atlher that almighty 
man, 

The countvGod— in whose capacious 

hall, 
Hung with a hundred shields, the 

family tree 
Sprang from the midriff of a prostrate 

king — 
"Whose blazing wyvem weathercock'd 

the spire, 
Stood from his walls and wing'd his 

entry-gates 
And swang besides on many a windy 

sign — 
Whose eyes from under a pyramidal 

head 
Saw from his windows nothing save 

his own — 
What lovelier of his own had he than 

her. 
His only child, his Edith, whom he 

loved 
As heiress and not heir regretfully ? 
But *' he that marries her marries her 



name 



»» 



This flat somewhat soothed himself 

and wife. 
His wife a faded beauty of the Baths, 
Insipid as the Queen upon a card ; 
Her all of thought and bearing hardly 

more 
Than his own shadow in a sickly sun. 

A land of hops and poppy-mingled 

com, 
Little about it stirring save a brook ! 
A sleepy land where under the samo 

wheel 
The same old rut would deepen year 

by year ; 
Where almost all the village had one 

name ; 
"Where Aylmer follow'd Aylmer at tlie 

Hall 
And Averill Averill-at the Rectory 
Thrice over ; so that Rectory and Hall, 
Bound in an immemorial intimacy. 
Were open to each other; tho* to 

dream 
That Love could bind them closer well 

had made 
The hoar hair ofthe Baronet bristle up 
With horror, worse than had he heard 

his priest 
Preach an inverted scripture, sons of 

men 
Daughters of God ; so sleepy was the 

land. 

And might not Averill, had he wiird 

it 80, 

Somewhere beneath his own low range 
of roofs, 

Have also set his many-shielded tree ? 

There was an Aylmer-AveriU marriage 
once, 

When tho red rose was redder than it- 
self. 

And York's white rose as red as Lan- 
caster's, 

With wounded peace which each had 
prick'd to death. 

** Not proven " Averill said, or laugh- 
ingly 

**Some other race of Averills'* — 
prov'n or no, 

What cared he ? what, if other or the 
same? 

He lean'd not on his fathers but him- 
self. 

But Leolin. his brother, living oft 

With Averill, and a year or two before 

Caird to the bar, but ever call'd away 

By one low voice to one dear neighbor- 
hood. 

Would often, in his walks with Edith, 
claim 

A distant kinship to the gracious 
blood 

That shook tho heart of Edith hearing 
him. 

Sanguine he was *. a A^mX \^v!i N\N\i^ 
hue 



AYUfEICS FIELD. 



Joyful, 
rolling 






Tliui af tbBt iBlet In 

ed tn hi! rhesli ; a 
UiMailll 
Took Joytul note of all 

BeneMli b manelllia n 

gold, 
Their lieil; uid brif[bteBt, vbea Cbey 

I, wtiina jwDBlve beiQly, perfect 
.ubUcl'lo the Bei 
B Ifke a myitii: 

And gntlBT glory Taryln 
We kiioiv HOC wbelefoie -, 

mule, 
And yet eu finely, thnt 

Tbinn'd, or would uem lo IMu her iu 

•iia to dilate, ns towurd tbe 
light. 
And these bad been togather from Iba 

I«olln'» ttrei nurBB wM, flva yeara n(- 

sh the boy foreran ; but whan 
bin (late 
Douliled bor ovm, toe want of play- 

Hla elilt 



oublou 








:e muted bonra vj 



siiledwjnter-aeldi 
that phalanx vf 



IBlintWl, pn«MUl. 

.viab bQouty moiiIM, 
. DKm, the Diftlden 
'ecill; Hun, 
u broken (p 



jMtly Ihefe 



woar the garlaiKl; 

At ChrietmV ""^^ 

On whose dn'u Eamenesi bia fall llOi! af 

Broke wlib a phoEphoreBceuce ebHT' 

Mr lady ; and the Baronet ret had )>I<1 
So bar between Uiem ; diill and mU- 

involved. 
Tall and ereet, but bendiuc from bll 

height 
VTlth bair-ailowlng smUes tor til Uw 

world. 



bis prido 
lay deepiic that 



With wing* of brooding ihaltBT o'rt 
Might hare been' other, Bav* (or L* 
Who knows? but to they wandw'd. 
that rebloOTi'4 ; 



d drank 



Tlia mai^ cnp lb 



AYLMERS FIELD. 



193 






A whisper half reyeal'd her to her- 
self. 
For out beyond her lodges, where the 

brook 
Vocal, with here and there a silence, 

ran 
By sallowy rims, arose the laborers' 

homes, 
A frequent haunt of Edith, on low 

knolls 
That dimpling died into each other, 

huts. 
At random scatter*d, each a nest in 

bloom. 
Her art, her hand, her counsel all had 

wrought 
About them ; here was one that, sum- 

mer-blanch*d. 
Was parcel-bearded with the travel- 
ler's joy 
m autumn, parcel iyv-clad ; and here 
Th» warm-Dlue breatniugs of a hidden 

heart 
Broke from a bower of vine and honey- 
suckle : 
One look'd all rosetree, and another 

wore 
A close-set robe of jasmine sown with 

stars: 
This had a rosy sea of gillyflowers 
About it ; this, a milky-way on earth. 
like Tisions in the Northern dreamers 

heavens, 
A lily-avenue climbing to the doors ; 
One, almost to the martin-haunted 

eaves 
A summer burial deep in hollyhocks ; 
Each, its own charm ; and Edith's 

everywhere ; 
And Edith ever visitant with him. 
He but less loved than Edith, of her 

poor: 
For she— so lowly-lovely and so loving. 
Queenly responsive when the loyal 

hand 
Bose from the day it work'd in as she 

past, 
Kot sowing hedgerow texts and pass- 
ing by, 
Nor dealing goodly counsel from a 

height 
That makes the lowest hate it, but a 

voice 
Of comfort and an open hand of help, 
A splendid presence flattering the poor 

roofs 
Revered as theirs, but kindlier than 

themselves 
To ailing wife or wailing infancy 
Or old bedridden palsy,— was adored ; 
He, loved for her and for himself. A 

grasp 
Having the warmth and muscles of the 

heart, 
A. childly way with children, and a 

laugh 
ftlfigitig like proven golden coinage 

true, 
Wera no false passport to that easy 

realm, 



Where once with Leolin at her side, 

the girl. 
Nursing a child, and turning to the 

warmth 
The tender pink five-beaded baby-soles, 
Heard the good mother softly whispef 

'♦Bless, 
God bless 'em : marriages are made in 

Heaven." 

A flash of semi-jealousy clear'd it to 
her. 

My lady's Indian kinsman unan- 
nounced 

With half a score of swarthy faces 
came. 

His own, tho' keen and bold and sol- 
dierly, 

Sear'd by the close ecliptic, was not 
fair; 

Fairer his talk, a tongue that ruled the 
hour, 

Tho' seeming boastful : so when first 
he dash'd 

Into the chronicle of a deedful day. 

Sir Aylmer half forgot his lazy smile 

Of patron "Good! my lady's kins- 
man ! good ! * 

My lady with her fingers interloek'd, 

And rotat'Ory thumbs on silken knees, 

Call'd all her vital spirits into each 
ear 

To listen : unawares they flitted off, 

Busying themselves about the flower- 
age 

That stood from out a stiff brocade in 
which. 

The meteor of a splendid season, she. 

Once with this kinsman, ah so long 
ago, 

Stept thro' the stately minuet of those 
days : 

But Edith's eager fancy hurried with 
him 

Snatch'd thro' the perilous passes of 
his life : 

Till Leolin ever watchful of her eye 

Hated him with a momentary hate. 

Wife-hunting, as the rumor ran, was 
he: 

I know not, for he spoke not, only 
shower'd 

His oriental gifts on every one 

And most on Edith : like a storm he 
came. 

And shook the house, and like a storm 
he went. 

Among the gifts he left her (possibly 
He flow'd and ebb'd uncertain, to re- 

turn 
When others had been tested) there 

was one. 
A dagger, in rich sheath with jewels 

on it 
Sprinkled about in gold that branch'd 

itself 
Fine as ice-ferns on January panes 
Made by a breath. I know not whenot 

at first. 



7~ 



\ 



«p 



AYUrF.ieS FIELD. 



Socatwtuit nice, Uic work; biiCaa lie 

Tho »totj, dlormlits ■ Jjill-fort of 

He E°'lt ; <ot their nptnln niter fleht, 
nil comrBrlee having foiigbc IheUIsBt 



Sown from tlie beetling crag to wUeh 

Tumbled tlie invny ra-rni ai hla feet, 
lliii dSE«ir with him, wbicliwlwu uuw 

By Editli whom Ula plemuie was to 

ploane, 
At once tliu iKjatlj- Sahib yleUed to 

Anil LsQlIn, comlug after he was 

Tost orer all'her preientB petulantW i 
And wlicn she sliuw'd the wesllhy 

scabbard, SBVltig 
'• Look whnl a loveLy yieoe of work- 
Slight w1!i"hU Lawer "WeU-I care 

ncittork;" 
Then playing with the blade he prlck'd 

" A gracious gift to Hire a lady, this !" 
"Bui would 11 Lb more jnwioiu" 

ask'd the girt 
" Wore 1 to give this gift of his lo one 
THial la no lady ? " '■ Gradoua? No" 

"Mo ?— hut 1 cared not for it. O por- 



For I am more nngcadouB ev'n than 

I rare not tor it Bltiier ; " and ho said 
"Why then I lova it:" but Sic Ayl- 

Anil neither love'd uoc Ulted the Ihlug 
he heanl. 






Id reds 



he thought : 



ira of it, 

lolBst fox— whore alarted 

In such B bottom: "Peter had Ihe 

H; Peter, tira't : " and did Sir Aylmer 

That great po«k-pltten follow had beeu 

Then made hia pleasure odio, hand lo 

And rolling as it were the suhslanee 

of ft 
Between his palms a moment up and 

"The birds were warm, the blrdi were 

TfB have him now:" 'and had Sir 
Aylmer IiBUrd— 



ray.bnjhfl ninst— Ibe land wis 






This bbielmnilb-bon 

Haw from the narserr— whc 

matal^bild? ' 
That ourted France wilh let egail- 

And di-l Sir Aylmer (deterenUallT 

With Rearing rhair (mil lower-il *j- 
For people talk'd— that it vas wholly 
To let tliat handsome tcllov Avei 
So freely with hU daughter? pedj 
TJe boy might get e. notion into Mm t 
The girl miglit h4 «ulaiigleil eru ■ha 
Sir Aylmer Aylmer slowly atittoning 
" The girl and bo.Tj Sir, know their an 

" Good "said hia friend "butwaldil" 

and be ■■ enough, 
Mora than enoi^, Sji I I can guard 

They parted, and Sir Aylmer Aylmsr 
watch-d, ' 

Pale, for on her the tbanders of Iht 

Hod fallen ant, was Edith that saioa 

Pale aa Die Jephtha's daughter, I' 

Of early rigid color, under wbldh 
WlUidrawfng by the counter door tA 



On either sids the hearth. Indliniaiil ; 

her. '' 

Cooling berfalae cheek with a feather* 



oeeder to their weolUi, 
DBlnliig plllu of Uulr 



AYLMETCS FIELD. 



195 



M Boy, mark me I for yonr fortunes are 

to mi^e. 
I swear you shall not make them out 

of mine. 
ITow Inasmuch as you have practised 

on her, 
Perplext her, made her half forget her- 
self, 
S^erre from her duty to herself and 

us — 
Things in an Aylmer deem*d impossi- 
ble, 
Far as we track ourselves— I say that 

this— 
Else I withdraw favor and countenance 
From you and yours forever— shall you 

do. 
Sir, when you see her— hut you shall 

not see her — 
Ko, you shall write, and not to her, hut 

me: 
And you shall say that having si>oken 

with me. 
And after look'd into yourself, you 

find 
That you meant nothing— as indeed 

you know 
That you meant nothing. Such a match 

as this ! 
Impossible, prodigious ! *' These were 

words. 
As meted by hi^ measure of himself. 
Arguing boundletis forbearance : after 

which. 
And Leoliu's horror-stricken answer, 

"I 
So foul a traitor to myself and her, 
Never O never," for about as long 
As the wind-hover hangs in balance, 

paused 
^r Aylmer reddening from the storm 

within. 
Then broke all bonds of courtesy, and 

crying 
"Boy, should I find you by my doors 

again. 
My men shall lash you from them like 

A dog; 
Hence ! ** with a sudden execration 

drove 
The footstool from before him, and 

arose; 
So. stammering "scoundrel** out of 

teeth that ground 
As in a dreadful dream, while Leoliu 

still 
Retreated half-aghast, the fierce old 

man 
Followed, and under his own lintel 

stood 
Storming with lifted hands, a hoary 

face 
Meet for the reverence of the hearth, 

but now. 
Beneath a pale and unimpassion*d 

moon, [form'd. 

Text with unworthy madness, and de- 

Slowly and conacious of the ragef ul 
eye 



That watch'd him, till he heard the 

ponderous door 
Close, crSiShiug with long echoes thro* 

the laiid, 
TSTent Leolin ; then, his passions all in 

flood 
And masters of his motion, furiously 
Down thro* the bright lawns to his 

brother's ran, 
And foam'd away his heart at AveriU's 

ear: 
Whom Averill solaced as he mightf 

amazed : 
The man was his, had been his father's 

friend : 
He must have seen, himself had seen 

it long : 
He must have known, himself had 

known : besides, 
He never yet had set his daughter 

forth 
Here in the woman-markets of the 

west. 
Where our Caucasians let themselves 

be sold. 
Some one, he thought, had slander*d 

Leolin to him. 
" Brother, for 1 have loved you more 

as son 
Than brother, let me tell you : I my- 

self- 
What is their pretty saying? jilted, 

is it? 
Jilted I was : I say it for your peace. 
Pain*d, and, as bearing in myself the 

shaine 
The woman should have borne, humili- 
ated, 
I lived for years a stunted sunless life ; 
Till after our good parents past away 
Watching your growth, I seem'd again 

to grow. 
Leolin, I almost sin in envying you : 
The very whitest lamb in all my fold 
Loves you : I know her : the worst 

thought she has 
Is whiter even than her pretty hand : 
She must prove true : for, brother, 

where two fight 
The strongest wins, and truth and love 

are strength. 
And you are happy : let her parents 

be.** 

But Leolin cried out the more upon 

them — 
Insolent, brainless, heartless ! heiaess, 

wealth, 
Their wealth, their heiress ! wealth 

enough was theirs 
For twentv matches. Were he lord of 

this, 
Why twenty boys and girls should 

marry on it, 
And forty blest ones bless him, and 

himself 
Be wealthy still, ay wealthier. He 

believed 
This filthy marriage-hindering Mam* 

mon made 




AYLMEH-S FIELD. 



Th« ImrlM of Iho rUlM ! natur 
WMUioUieraClbaloul odulicrJ 
Thiit Mtunita (oul wlUi Ijod;. 



£rDUd: liawortli 
g Edi(h-». Ah liow polo Blio 

Oullns, to-ii1^t I Uuj muit bBio 

rated Ijcr 
Beyond all tolonncs. Theio old plieii^ 

■anI-1ord>, 
TliBto purtrlditi-breedsn of a Uiouaiuil 

'Who luul mllilaw'il In tbeir Ibousanda, 

81neo Eabett— whj, Uio greater ilnlr 

UiB|[TACA I 

Fall bttaU upou a name 1 rest, rot iu 
Kot ttxB n i.DbU, make It nol>lor? 
WltliBUcU a vanlago-erouud fonioBlo- 
I[o bad knuwn a man. a iiniiiicisotico 
Tbo lUo of nil— who madly lorad— and 
Tliwarteil bf one o( ttieae old tather- 









Backw 






Hiig of lllin 



t ; bat be bad pow- 

fflt: 

bis studies, mako a 

world ahould 

To ■liaina''theEa mouldy Aylmen In 

CbBDcellor, or wbat Is graatvit wuuld 

"ObrDlbor, lamgrieTed to learn vouc 

(rief— 
Give ma mv lUng, and let me ray my 

■ay.'l 
At whicb. Ilbo ona that seeB Ills onn 
Anil eaall^ forglvci" !t as lila own, 

'WeptUfceaetoiini and hoiiast Are rill 
Bow lo^ hi!' Irolher'B mood had fallen, 




Yet onca bj night again Ibe Ittrtia 
A perUoss nectiiic under Ow till 
IHat d:irkHn'd all the norUiwarl tt 



He, naR»Ionat«ly hopefuller, vouldea 
Labor furlil* own iffith, and retur^ 
III >ufb a BUntioht o( pnnpetltT 
UoflbouldnolCarelMted. "Wiib 

Tbey loved in«, and becaoaa 1 1 

Ibelr child 
They hata me : them is varbntw 

Which bieakB ah bonds but one*; 

Solbertan'^1 



Poor children, lor 
wind blow , 
Ilia rain ot heaven, and thdrc 

Teari, and the oareless lain ot Learai,, 

Upon their tiuea, ai they kias'd « 

" '" IBUl't 



Bo Lealli 






in I a laneua 



M altering the lanleBB s< 



May beat a palbway o 
The)esla™?Btfli»ahM 
Ugbtuing of tbo hoi 



bout Uio ttcad- 
-, (lie pun, til* 



111 other BcandalB that liava llT»d *nd 

died. 
And loft tha tlTlng Ecan.lnl that BbBU 

Wero dead to him already ; bent ai hi 

To make dlaproot of aeom, and ftniB| 

And prodieal ot all br«In-Iabor he. 
Charier ot sleep, a ■ " 

Except nhsn lor a 




AYUfEIVS FIELD. 



197 



Some niggard fraction of an hour, he 
ran 

Beside the river-bank : and then in- 
deed 

Harder the times were, and the hands 
of power 

Were bloodier, and the according 
hearts of men 

8eem*d harder too ; bat the soft river- 

'Which faiin'd the gardens of that rival 

rose 
Yet fragrant in a heart remembering 
His former talks vrith Edith, on him 

breathed 
Far purelier in his mshings to and fro, 
After liis books, to flush liis blood with 

air, 
Ihen to his books again. My lady's 

cousin, 
Half-sickening of his pension*d after- 
noon, 
Drove in upon the student once or 

twice. 
Ban a Malayan muck against the 

tines. 
Had golden hopes for France and all 

mankind, 
Answer'd all queries touching those at 

home 
With a heaved shoulder and a saucy 

smile. 
And fain had haled him out into the 

world. 
And air'd him there : his nearer friend 

would say 
** Screw not the cord too sharply lest it 

snap.** 
Then left alone he pluck*d her dagger 

forth 
From where his worldless heart had 

kept it warm, 
Kissing his vows upon it like a knight. 
And wrinkled benchers often talk'd of 

him 
Approvingly, and prophesied his rise : 
For heart, X think, help'd head ; her 

letters too, 
Tho* far between, and coming fltf ully 
Xike broken music, written as Bue 

found 
Or made occasion, being strictly 

watch'd, 
Cbarm*d him tluro* every labyrinth till 

he saw 
An end, a hope, a light breaking upon 

him. 

But they that cast her spirit into 

flesh, 
iler worldly-wise begetters, plagued 

themselves 
To sell her, those good parents, for her 

good. 
Whatever eldest-bom of rank or 

wealth 
Might lie within their compass, him 

they lured 
Into their net made pleasant by the 

baito 



Of gold and beauty, wooing him to woo. 
So mouth by month the noise about 

their doors. 
And distant blaze of these dull ban* 



quets, made 
ightly 
uare 



The nightly wirer of their innocent 
nare 

Falter before he took it. All in vain. 

Sullen, defiant, pitying, wroth, retum*d 

Leolin's rejected nvals from their suit 

So often, that the folly taking wings 

Slipt o'er those lazy limits down the 
wind 

With rumor, and became in other 
fields 

A mockerj* to the yeomen over ale. 

And laughter to their lords : but those. 
at home, 

As hunters round a hunted creature 
draw 

The cordon close and closer toward 
the death, 

Narrow*d her goings out and comings 
in; 

Forbade her first the house of Averill, 

Then closed her access to tho wealthier 
farms. 

Last from her own home-circle of the 
poor 

They barr'd her : yet she bore it : yet 
her cheek 

Kept color : wondrous ! but, O mys- 
tery I 

What amulet drew her down to that 
old oak. 

So old, that twenty years before, a part 

FalUng had let appear the brand of 
John— 

Once grovelike, each huge arm a tree, 
but now 

The broken base of a black tower, a 
cave 

Of touchwood, with a single flourishing 
spray. 

There the manorial lord too curiously 

Kaking in that millemiial touchwood- 
dust 

Found for himself a bitter treasure- 
trove ; 

Burst his own wyvem on the seal, and 
read 

Writhing a letter from his child, for 
which 

Came at the moment Leolin*s emis- 
sary, 

A crippled lad, and coming tum'd to 

fly. 

But scared with threats of jail and 

halter gave 
To him that flustered his x>oor parish 

wits 
The letter which he brought, and swore 

besides 
To play tlieir go-between as heretofore 
Nor let them know themselves be- 

tray'd ; and then. 
Soul stricken at their kindness to him, 

went 
Ilating his own lean heart and miser 

able. 




AYLMEirS FIELD. 



A* U the llilDE pa 

Wan) lliltut n»tT' 

anAumi. 

How dialing HI bl 



Tbc (attitr pMitlBt wok*, uid oCi. n 
ArasMd iIm black republle on Ui 
Bwscpliig Um IrotliaT (rom itia Crams 
Tbic' tlM •Um nwutow lawua bli 
Sctovl II, tAok home, ud lo m; Udj,— 
A llinniwsM cnaecnt of hec tninion 
liitleM tn ul dapondmce,— reoil i 
inmbol'd there 

KowJlrtiTtnK on hage ilmobllBg-blodlu 

!InhBbTlHna,«iil deal diminutives 
InutOT'd ill OTer the vodflbulnry 
Ot meh Klore m tike a i^idden cbtM, 
AfUr nincli walling, buah-dluelf u |b>i 
XopekH of uuwer : Ibeu tho' ATeiill 
Tl 
I 
H 
•' 
It 



Fj4id bada him wllb ewoI l>eart nuniin 
> well— the lorer heeded 
But paMionalely rettleH cama bdiI 



./ a keopor »hol at. slightiy 
Baglng rslum'd: nor vat It well fur 
Keft to Lhe garden uow, and giore of 
WatcL-tUni'iUiarB; and one wa» set 
'.^M vatehBr, and Sir Aytmor walch'd 
from bli TDulinga ; ones 
Waini'J with hll wlnei, DC taUng pride 

Utot IcDOwliis wtmt posaou'd him : [hat 

Wu Lnolin'n 

oaitU 

BcKindad, lor 



Indv foUov 



er of hU faded loT 



• Ue Roldoi 

The molil 

^H , KavBt 
^^H| Botliatlli 



ir tlnv'd In aluUoi 
KavBt one kludlj imlle, on 



Botliatlliuceiitlaci 



ona kindlj- 
ihut from 




ipon bim half-aiiften frtna 

With a weinl bright eve. sweatlne ud 

Irombliu^, ^ 

nil hair a* II wen crackling InM 

JIlii body hair flnng tarwnml In pn: 
And his long niuw Btrelch'd a« to i 

a liver: 
XoT luiew he wberefore ho hail i 

And being mocli befool'd and Idiotcd 

Ily Uia ronghaniity of the other, sa ' 
Ai Into Bleep ag^u. Theaeconddi 
My iBdy'B Indlaii klniman mfhlnefn, 
A breaker of the hlCttr ue*« ltw» 

Found a dend man, a lettcc edged Willi 

deBlh 
Beside him. nnd tbe dagger i 

Gave Edith, redden'd with no bai 

"PiomKdlth" woi cngraTeu oi 



his deaUi, 



and gaaei] npo 

le iigslQ, his Dock be- 

Beholding how Iho yenra which a 

Hud blasted liim— tbat many Itiouiand 

Wero elipt by horror from hla ter 

Tel tbe end mother, for tbe M 
dualb 



AYLMEIPS FIELD, 



199 



8eaxee toneh'd her thro' that nearness 

of the first, 
And being used to find her pastor 

texlK, 
Sent to the harrowed brother, praying 

him 
To speak before the people of her 

child. 
And flxt the Sabbath. Darkly that 

day rose : 
Automn^s mock sunshine of the faded 

woods 
Was all the life of it ; for hard on 

these, 
A breathless burden of low-folded 

heavens 
Stifled and chill*d at once ; but every 

roof 
Sent out a listener: many too had 

known 
Edith among the hamlets round, and 

since 
The parents' harshness and the hap- 
less loves 
And double death were widely mur- 

mur'd, left 
Their own gray tower, or plain-faced 

tabernacle. 
To hear him ; all in mourning these, 

and those 
With blots of it about them, ribbon, 

glove 
Or kerchief ; while the church,— one 

night, except 
For sreenish glimmerings thro' the 

lancets,— made 
Still paler the pale head of him, who 

tower'd 
Above them, with his hopes in either 

grave. 

Lone o'er his bent brows lingered 

AveriU, 
His face magnetic to the hand from 

which 
livid he pluck'd it forth, and labor'd 

thro' 
His brief prayer-prelude, gave the 

verse •* Behold, 
Tour house is left unto you desolate !'• 
Bat lapsed into so long a pause again 
As half amazed half Irighted all his 

flock: 
Then from his height and loneliness 

of grief 
Bore down in flood, and dash'd his 

ansry heart 
Against the desolations of the world. 

Kever since our bad earth became 

one sea, 
Which rolling o'er the palaces of the 

proud. 
And all but those who knew the living 
^ God— 
•Hii^t that were left to make a purer 

world— 
XVlien since had flood, fire, earthquake, 

thunder, wrought 
Bach waste and havoc as the idolatries 



Which from the low light of mortality 
Shot up their shadows to the Heaven 

of Heavens, 
Andworshipt their own darkness as 

the Highest ? 
** Gash thyself, priest, and honor thy 

brute Baftl, 
And to thy worst self sacrifice thyself. 
For with thy worst self hast thou 

clothed thy God. 
Then came a Lord in no wise like to 

Ba&l. 
The babe shall lead the lion. Surely' 

now 
The wilderness shall blossom as the 

rose. 
Crown thyself, worm, and worship thine 

own lusts !— 
No coarse and blockish God of acreage 
Stands at thy gate for thee to grovel 

to— 
Thy God is far diffused in noble groves 
And princely halls, and farms, and 

flowing lawns. 
And heaps of living gold that daily 

/sjrow. 
And title-scrolls and gorgeous herald- 
ries. 
In such a shape dost thou behold thy 

God. 
Thou wilt not gash thy flesh for him; 

for thine 
Fares richly, in fair linen, not a hair 
Buflled upon the scarf skin, even while 
The deatnless ruler of thv dying house 
Is wounded to the deatii that cannot 

die; 
And tho' thou numberest with the fol- 
lowers 
Of One who cried * leave all and follow 

me,' 
Thee therefore with His light about 

thy feet. 
Thee with His message ringing in thine 

ears. 
Thee shall thy brother man, the Lord 

from Heaven, 
Born of a village girl, carpenter's son, 
Wonderful; Prince of peace,the Mighty 

God, 
Count the more base idolater of the two; 
Crueller : as not passing thro* the tire 
Bodies, but soujs — thy children's — 

thro* the smoke. 
The blight of low desires— darkening 

thine own 
To thine own likeness; or if one of 

these, 
Thy better bom unhappily from thee. 
Should, as by miracle, grow straight 

and fair- 
Friends, I was bid to speak of such a 

one 
By those who most have cause to sor- 
row for her— 
Fairer than Rachel by the palmy well. 
Fairer than Ruth among the fields of 

com. 
Fair as the Angel that said *hair aha 

seem'dy 



V 






"Wbo entirinit OU'd tlie hoaae «iUi md- 
deii II gh 
IT HI mliie own was biigliten'd : 

le roof to lowly lint that bean. o( 

HeavBTi 
iwn'daoiOBtinielhro' tha doorway? 

•o ruffed tg he f oiuUcd on her lap, 
imuTat her botom :■ lliu poor t£ild 



: 



; for her fresh nnd Inno- 

, BUT ot moniLne In theli: 

Tlmt all nBglecte^l plar« o£ Ilie field 
™-oke Into nature's miuic wlieu Uicy 

IiOw was her voice, bat won in jB terlfim 

Thro' Uie seal'd car to which a louder 

. BilEECe— fteo of alms her 

iBt robed your Fottaj^walla 

toll'd to clothB jour little 



in the I 



10 Bide betwaeu 
emch other I for 



■WuB alwnyfl with her, wliom jou also 
Him too 3'ou loved, for be was norlhy 
Andtheee had been together from the 
They nilahl have been together till the 

Frioiide, tills frail bark of ours, when 

•orely tried, 
May wreck iMelf without tho pllofa 

guilt, 



Without 



with shnm« v 



I captHiu'i knoirledge 
IBt, It he 



Xurinlue Uie buU, 1 



vall». 



■ My houa 

WhUe tliUB he Bp»ke, hia b 
Song ot Uoe' glebu, *liii other Irowiu 
That knit 



iwl'U 



t lor. 



Hs, wbon ll 



Of the near atonn, ajid aiming at liii 

Sat anget-fharm'd Irom »oct<tw, Bl- 

Erect ; but when the preacher*! a- 

Softening thro' alUhoKenlleattribom 
Of Mh lo-iiLlId, the wlfe.whowawL'a 

Pnleil at a aiidden twitch ot bi« Iron 

mouth : 
Aud "O pray God that ho hold up" 

'■Or surely! fliall Bhame nij»elf ini 

"^"Bl^"^"hearuS*~*'"" """ ** 
Can take her phue— IE echolne mtyot 

cry 
' Our house Is left unto hb dnolUe t ' 
But thou, O ihuu that killeBi, hid 

O thou that BiouBBt, Imdst thou under 

The things belonging to thy pcao 

1b there no prophet but the voice tint 

Doom upon klngi, or In thewaan 

pent' T 
Is Hot our own child on tho nanov 

Who ilown to those that aaonterlutb 

CrieE ' como up hither,' as a prophetl 

inlng eavo with Qiut ii 



IB there no Bt< 

Ves, aa the dead wo weep for teiUfy-' 



Nodi 



YoB, as youi 



but by sv 



lingi witDen, and 

inellar, darker, oarthllet far ttl 

me your prajeri!, foe he la naM 
your urajcm, 

past tlie living fount ot Bltyla 
Hoaven. 
But I that thought myself long-tuffsi- 

lln'n 'poor la spirit'— how 111* 

upon tl 



Excecdli 



AYLMERS FIELD. 



201 



Vileness, xre are grown so proud— I 
wish'd ray voice 

A rosliing tempest of the irrath of God 

To blow these sacritlces thro' the 
world — 

Sent like the twelve-divided concu- 
bine 

To inflame the tribes : but there— out 
yonder— earth 

lightens from her own central Hell— 
O there 

Tho red fruit of an old idolatry — 

The heads of chiefs and princes fall so 
fast, 

They cling together in the ghastly 
sack — 

The land all shambles— naked mar- 
riages 

Flash from the bridge, and ever-mur- 
der'd France, 

By shores that darken with the gather- 
ing wolf, 

Huns in a river of blood to the sick 
sea. 

Is this a time to madden madness 
then? 

Was this a time for these to flaunt 
their pride ? 

Hay Pharaoh's darkness, folds as dense 
as those 

TThich hid the Holiest from the peo- 
ple's eyes 

£re the great death, shroud this great 
sin from all ! 

Doubtless our narrow world must can- 
vass it: 

rather pray for thoj^o and pity them, 
"Who thro' their own desire accom- 
plish *d brinp: 

Their own gray hairs with sorrow to 
the grave — 

Who broke the bond which they de- 
sired to break, 

Which else had link'd their race with 
times to come — 

Who wove coarse webs to snare her 
purity. 

Grossly contriving their dear daugh- 
ter's good — 

Poor souls, and knew not what they 
did, but sat 

Ignorant, devising their own daugh- 
ter's* death ! 

Kay not that earthly chastisement suf- 
fice? 

Have not our love and reverence left 
them bare ? 

Will not another take their heritage ? 

Will there be children's laughter in 
their hall 

For ever and for ever, or one stone 

Left on another, or is it a light thing 

That I their guest, their host, their an- 
cient fnend. 

1 made by these tibe last of all my race 
Must cry to these the last of theirs, as 

cried 
Christ ere His agony to those fhat swore 
Kot by the temple but the gold, and 

made 



Their own traditions God, and slew th6 
Lord, 

And left their memories a world's 
curse — * Behold, 

Your house is left unto you des- 
olate'?'* 

Ended ho had not, but she brook'd 
no more : 

Long since her heart had beat re- 
morselessly. 

Her crampt-up sorrow pain'd her, and 
a sense 

Of meanness in her unresisting life. 

Then their eyes vext her; for on en- 
tering 

Ho had cast the curtains of their seat 

aside- 
Black velvet of the costliest— she her- 
self 

Had seen to that : fain had s^e closed 
them now, 

Yet dared not stir to do it, only near'd 

Her husband inch by inch, biit when 
fihe laid, 

Wifelike, her hand in one of his, ho 
veil'd 

His face with the other, and at once, 
as falls 

A creeper when the prop is broken, 
fell 

The woman shrieking at his feet, and 
swoon'd. 

Then her own people bore along the 
nave 

Her pendent hands, and luirrow mea- 
gre face 

Seam'd with the shallow cares of fifty 
years : 

And her the Lord of all the landscape 
round 

Kv'n to his last horizon, and of all 

Who peer'd at him so keenly, foUow'd 
out 

Tall and erect, but in the middle aisle 

lieel'd, as a footsore ox in crowded 
ways 

Stumbling across the market to his 
death, 

Unpitied ; for he groped as blind, and 
seem'd 

Always about to fall, grasping the 
pews 

And oaken finials till he touch'd the 
door; 

Yet to the jychgate, where his chariot 
stood. 

Strode from the porch, tall and erect 
again. 

But nevermore did either pass the 

gate 
Save under pall with bearers. In one 

month, 
Thro* weary and yet ever wearier 

hours. 
The childless mother went to seek her 

child ; 
And when he felt the silence of hid 

house 



i 



V 



SKA DtlEAMS. 



Aboat Mm, nnd the chnnge and not 

And tliaie lixt ej'« of p&lnted ances- 

BtaringfnrEvnfrnintheir^ldeclwnlls 
OaMin JicirlHAbilifuenilfuiL, Mb own 



; hli 



Dead for two yeiLrs bel 

But wliunlLe second C}: 

IIU kaeoara, and the slli 

Tn fliHl a ileaper In the i 
By wife and cMld i uor 



■row glftom 
lnj( ilealh 



TlBii the BToat Hall was wholly Drokei 
And Oie broad woodland porcoll' J tiit< 



The hedgehog nDdenieath llio plantain 
Therabbic'tondleB his own hnnjileas 
The BlDn-'norm creeps, and the lliln 



BEA DETAJIH. 
tlerk, but gently bora nnd' 
artisfa orphni, 
was theirs, a Slaigaiet, UirBo 



thlld- 



I 



I the glBnt-Iactoried city- 



Had riBk'd Ms ]ltOc)llko the 



And oft, when Bitting all alone, h 






WouliI darken, nshe 

And that one 'nnpiioiu moolh nbkl 

TobnjstraiiEHshaica'in somePcni- 

Now seaward-bonnd for health tbej 

All Band and cUn alid deep-iiirBBnliig 

At close of day ; Blcpt, WDko,and''tnl 

The Salibalb, pious xarlcm from Uh 

To chnpol : where a heated jiulpltrrt, 
Not pisat-lilug slmplB Lkriet to Buiipti 

Auuuiiiiced the ooming doom, audlut- 

Agalnsl llie scarlet nonuui nod lieT 

hia usii, 



'andSllelrr 

lius. Ihuswll' 

he lield 



with vl 



The AporsJypllo inlllstono, and 

Were that great Angel,- " Tiiu wlU 

Shnll Babylon bo cast into the w 
Tbsn comes the closo." Tho c 
hearted wife 

: but Rhcn tlio ' 

forth they came and 



t shuddering 









e Ion 



Drank the larce air, and 

acarcB beUeve.1 
(The Boocaake oC bo monr i 

still 
Clnne to their fancies) that theyaao- 

"""oncllT ^^ ' "'"' 

IJngerIng about the thymy pronuuitf^ 

Till all tlie B^ls wore darken'd In tbg 

And r«e<l in Uie «aat : than hametrard 

and to bed : 
Where she, who kept a tendtr Clirfi- 

tian hope 
HHuntinB aholy text, 

gfit. 



'Lotni 
iaid, "Love 



Iiim 



' bat b* 



And elleiiied by that silence lay t 
ItemeniberlngheT dear Lord vho dl< 
And musing on the IltUo Uvea tt 
.Ind how tbcyciar this little by 



SEA DBEA3IS. 



20S 



But vliile fhe two were sleeping, a 

full tide 
Boee with groand-«wel1y which, on the 

foremost rocks 
Touching, upjetted in spirts of wild 

sea-smoke, 
And scaled in sheets of wasteful foam, 

and fell 
In vast searcataracts— ever and anon 
Dead claps of thunder from within the 

cUffii 
Heard thro* the living roar. At this 

the babe, 
Their Margaret cradled near them, 

waird and woke 
The mother, and the father suddenly 

cried, 
" A wreck, a wreck I *' then tum*d, and 

groaninz said, 
" Forgive ! Bow many will say, * f op- 

gnre,* and find 
A sort of absolution in the sound 
To liate a little longer I No ; the sin 
That neither God nor man can well 

forgive, 
Hypocrisy, I saw it in him at once. 
Is it so true that second thoughts are 

best? 
Not first, and third, which are a riper 

first? 
Too ripe, tc*o late I they come too late 

for use. 
Ah love, there surely lives in man and 

beast 
Something divine to warn them of 

their foes : 
And such a sense, when first I fronted 

him. 
Said, * trust him not ; * but after, when 

I came 
To know him more, I lost it, knew him 

less; 
Fought with what seem*d my own un- 

charity ; 
Sat at his table; drank his costly 

wines; 
Made more and more allowance for his 

talk: 
Went f urtner, fool ! and trusted him 

with all. 
All my poor scrapings from a dozen 

years 
Of dust and deskwork: there is no 

such mine, 
Kott^ ; but a gulf of ruin, swallowing 

gold, 
Mot making. Buin*d ! ruinM ! the sea 

roars 
Bain : a fearful night ! *' 

'• Not fearful ; fair " 
Said the good wife, ** if every star in 

heaven 
Can make it fair : you do but hear the 

tide. 
Had you ill dreams ? " 

" O yes," he said, " I dream*d 
Of such a tide swelling toward the 

land. 
And I from out the boundless outer 

deen 



Swept with it to the shore, and ent6r*d 

one 
Of those dark caves that run beneatli 

the cliffs. 
I thouffht the motion of the boundless 



ugj 
cTe 



eep 
Bore throuch the cave, and I was 

heaveu upon it 
In darkness: then I saw one lovely 

star 
Larger and larger. * What a world,* I 

thought. 

* To live in ! * but in movinff on I found 
Only the landward exit of uie cave. 
Bright with the sun upon the stream 

beyond : 
And near the light a giant woman sat. 
All over earthy, like a piece of earth, 
A pickaxe in her hand: then out I 

slipt 
Into a land all sun and blossom, trees 
As high as heaven, and every bird tha^ 

sings : 
And here the night-light flickering iu 

my eyes 
Awoke me.'* 

*' That was then your dream,*' shd 
said, 
" Not sad, but sweet." 

" So sweet, I lay,** said he, 
** And mused upon it, drifting up the 

stream 
In fancy, till I slept again, and pieced 
The broken vision ; for I ureamVl that 

still 
The motion of the great deep bore me 

on. 
And that the woman walk*d upon the 

brink: 
I wonder'd at her strength, and ask*d 

her of it : 

* It came,* she said, * by working in the 

mines : * 
O then to ask her of my shares, I 

thought ; 
And ask'd ; but not a word; she shook 

her head. 
And then tlie motion of the current 

ceased,* 
And there was rolling thunder ; and we 

reach 'd 
A mountain, like a wall of burrs and 

thorns ; 
But she with her strong feet up the 

steep hill 
Trod out a path : I follow*d ; and at 

top 
She pointed seaward ; there a fleet of 

glass, 
That seem'd a fleet of jewels under me, 
Sailing along before a gloomy cloud 
That not one moment ceased to thun* 

der, past 
In sunshine : right across its track 

there lay, 
Down in the water, a long reef of gold, 
Or what seem*d gold : and I was glau 

at first 



\ 



■WW 



201 



SEA nBEAMS. 



To tblnli IbntlnonT often-nuiHcli'd 

BOtId 

11 BO m-ch gold wiu left ; ond Oien 

ittliecBj' nOTyUierosliould>pliiit«r 

And fnulng waved m; ami to warn 



could huve < 
Touch'd,~('link'd,Bndcluh'd,aiid 



'It) 



Among thfl lioDCBt Elicioldien ot tls j 



,;:;.«■ 



T.'rocli'd on u rsef of vlalonnrj- gold." 

'■ Kay," »ald the kindly wlta to com. 

tort him, 
" Yob raised Jour arm, tdu tumblai 

iloirii and broka 
~ ■ ■■.hllttlaMsTgarot'i medl 



le in It ; 
. reaklii 



tbat, 



AldlleiaakeBadreaiu,atriQa Lrcolca." 

"Ko tcifle," groan'd Iha liusbandi 

metbtm ■uddeul]' in Ilia straot. and 

ThalwIildilaek'dUio womaii l;i mj 

Like lior, ho ahooX hla bend. ■ Zhoir 

He dodged ma with a long and looao 

e books, Iha books I ' but be, he 
coald not wait, 
Bound on a macler lio ol llCo and 






t Books 



Wera open'd, 1 abould And he r 
Itheubegaulo bloBt MmscU 



dran»t fiiand. 
H»To fallli, Imve taith 1 We live 

luilli,' iBld ho ; 
■ Aud all tblugs work losellicr for 



1 that dings down hi* llto ! Iken 
colter; and be mennt.b 
laoajit, you well." 

■ \ntb all Ida ronactenco 
cya wikew '— 

I b likewlBo"c^Mrl fnr 



J.,(t'iH 






rtofynn 



;o false, be partly look blmsel 
STioBo piouH talk, when most bli hciit 
dadowpt tba crafty rrowBtoot roniil 
lug God encep 






gain. 
Tain : 



aelnl : 



Him 



Criptmy liand liard, and wltb God- 

blew-JOU won 
I ilood like aue thi 

blow: 
I tountl a bard friend iu Lis tooae 

IB Inlbo hard Eripnfbla band, 
;ae in hi» God-bloM-yoa i then 



i« ralapaw and Um CTOt 

bait to trap his daps 

Nordoertaof Bi£t',butEirt* ofgnicel 

inakt-llko tlimed hla liciim ci 

oft at iTibla' msetJngB, o'er lb« 

Arising, did bis holy oily beat, 
"— .piui the too rough H In Hi 

To spread the Word by which b 

How Ilka you this old antlte ? " 

" I loathe It : be had iierar kyndiyl.-,^ 
Nor ever tared lo better hia own kloA, ■ 
Wbo tint wrote aatlre.wttli no nltj Iu IL I 
But will yon hear mp dreoju, tor 1 bH '■ 




SEA DREAMS. 



£06 



''—But round tho North, a light, 
ill belt, it Beem'd, of luminous vapor, 

lay, 
And ever iii it a low mufical note 
8well*d up and died ; and, aa itsweird, 

a ridge 
Of brealcer iSdued from the belt, and 

Btill 
Grew wiih the growing note, and when 

the note 
Had reach'd a thunderous fulness, on 

those cliffs 
Broke, mixt with awful light (the same 

as that 
Living within the belt) whereby she saw 
That all those lines of cliffs were cliils 

no more. 
But huge cathedral fronts of every age 
Grave, florid, stern, as far as eye could 

see. 
One after one : and then the great 

ridge drew, 
Lessening to the lessening music, back. 
And past into the belt and sweird 

again 
Slowly to music : ever when it broke 
The statues, king or saint, or founder 

fell; 
Then from the gaps and chasms of ruin 

left 
Came men and women in dark clusters 

round, 
Some crying, * Set them up ! they shall 

not fall ! ' 
And others ' Let them lie, for they 

have fall'n.* 
And still they strove and wrangled ; 

and she grieved 
In her strange dream, she knew not 

why, to find 
Their wildest wailings never out of 

tune 
With that sweet note ; and ever as their 

shrieks 
Ban highest up the gamut, that great 

wave 
Betuming, while none mark'd it, on 

the crowd 
Broke, mixt with awful light, and 

show'd Uieir eyes 
Glaring, and passionate looks, and 

swept away 
The men of flesh and blood, and men 

of stone. 
To the waste deeps together. 

*' Then I fixt 
My wistful eyes on two fair images, 
BoLh crown*d with stars and high 

amono; the stars, — 
The Virgin Mother standing with her 

child 
High up on one of those dark minster- 
fronts — 
Till she began to totter, and the child 
Clung to the mother, and sent out a cry 
Which mixt with little Margaret's, and 

I woke. 
And my dream awed me:— well— >but 
what are dreams ? 



Yours came but from the breaking of 

glass, 
And mine but from the crying of a 

child." 

« Child ? No ! " said he, " but thij 

tide's roar, and liis, 
Our Boanerges with his threats of doom. 
And loud-lung'd Aniibabyloniaiiisros 
(Altho* I grant but little music thei-e) 
Went both to make your dream : but 

if there were 
A music harmonizing our wild cries, 
Sphere-music such as that you dreani'd 

about, 
"Why, that would make our passions 

far too like 
The discords dear to the musician. No - 
One shriek of hate would jar all the 

hymns of heaven : 
True Devils with no ear, they howl in 

tune 
With nothing but the Devil I » 

*' • True * indeed I 

One of our town, but Inter by an hour 

Here than ourselves, spoke with me on 
the shore ; 

While you were running down the 
sands, and made 

The dimpled flounce of the sea-fur- 
below flap. 

Gooil man, to please the child. She 
brought ptrange newa. 

Why were you silent when 1 spoke to- 
night ? 

I had set my heart on your forgiving 
him 

Before you knew. Wo must forgive the 
dead." 
** Dead ! who is dead ? *' 

** The man your eye pursued. 
A little after you had parted witli him. 
He suddenly dropt dead of heart- 
disease." 

** Dead ? he ? of heart-disease ? what 
heart had he 
To die of ? dead I " 

" Ah, dearest, if there be 
A devil in man. there is an angel too. 
And if he did tnat wrong you charge 

him with, 
His angel broke his heart. But your 

rough voice 
(You spoke so loud) has roused the 

child again. 
Sleep, little biraie, sleep ! will she not 

sleep 
Without her * little birdie ? * well then, 

sleep. 
And I will sing you * birdie.' " 

Saying this. 
The woman half turn' d round from 

him she loved. 
Left him one hand, and reaching thro' 

the ni;;ht 
Her other, found (for it wrs close beside) 
And half embraced tho basket cradle* 

boad 



f- 



THE GRANDMOXnER. 



'Ith one mrt arm, nUcli, like the 

p])i.i» bougti 
bat maviiiB luovm Uie nest 

ling, Bwsy'd 
hs cmdle, wkilo Bha (luig tMi baby 
Bonj. 
IThnt doos IlCtlfl blrdlo ta.f 
111 hei iirac al !>eep of day ? 
ijit loq fly, say. liHIe U.illo, 

niiigB aca airoDgcr. 
nuBHo H.BJU. Hide loiiKor, 
Then Bba flies away. 
■Wlmt dnea liltle bab» my, 
111 lier bed at pwp bt <Uy7 
Bnliy savi. Jtke lILlle blidia. 
Let me fi>s and fly away. 
Baby, sleep a litUa longer. 
Till tiiH littlo limtn are BtrouBor. 
ir ibe Bloeps a llUle longer 
Baby too aiiall fly awuy. 



Illrtlle, n 



E OEAJSDMOniEB, 



eldeat-bom, la pjiie, 



Buddy, and w 
*.nd Willy's 



For, Annie, yon aac, her tatter waa rii 

Hadn't ■ head to manage, and drar 

ldm«elt into Wb grave. 
Pretty enough, vep pretty 1 but I -v. 



te'a a lag lor B babe o( a w«li 1 " 
■ays Jovlor -, luid be touIJ I> 

jwaa not lilH llkB Ibat joar ii 

Strong; of bis liandfi, nnil atrong on liii 

leff,, bulaiill oE biatonaue I 
longbt tu na*a gone befora Ud; ] 

not err for hini, Auule : I lian 

TorliapB 1 Bliair«BB Li m t'ho sooner. In 

AThy do you look at 
till Ilk I am hn 
LutaUai 



4 



■mily, mybennty, 

Wl!:y Bliiodllkc 



Imnl and rold ; 



lor \ 



Only a 



weepfcrthi 



PorlTt 
Alt for 1 



la dae.lg yot live, lie worst Id y 
let roil r sleep for Ibis one nigbt 



a qoarrel 1 had mi 
UB story, uiatcMtlW 


Biidfalber, Annio: 11 
world ot woe. 
0, my dullug, unntr 



For JennT, my cousin, bad coma toUv 

place, audi knew right w*11 

That Jonuy had tript In her llmB : I 



And abo to be eon 

me. the l>a 

Cut Uie loiimio 1b 



1 "e^S£ 



uuBon made It hia text iU 
wk, and be aaid llkeirii 
whichiahaifBtrutlilBi 
BblaekeBIotlieg. 
whicli la all a lie miylMMt 
id fought with outright, 
which Is part n troUi b 
fighu 



I to Ibt 






eldest-bom, Ibo 



And -Willy bad not 

fimnforai..><=~~i.^i«... 
And all tilings look'd half-dead, 

Jflunla. to Blander me. wbukiiowwasi 

.lemiieliadbeen I 
But solilnii aiioiher. A iinie, will 

make one's self cleui. 

Andrrl<"l mynelt wellnlgh Wind, »a* 



TEE GRANDMOTHER, 



207 



I climb'd to tlie top of the gartli, and 
stood by tlte road at the gate. 

Tbe moon like a rick on fire was rising 
over the dale. 

And whit, whit, whit, in the bush beside 
me chirrupt the nightingale. 

XI. 

All of a sadden he stopt : there past 
by the gate of the farm, 

Willy, — he didn't see me,— and Jenny 
hung on his arm. 

Out into the road I started, and spoke 
I scarce knew how ; 

Ah, there's no fool like the old one- 
it makes me angry now. 

XII. 

Willy stood up like a man, and look'd 

the thing that he meant ; 
Jenny, the viper, made me a mocking 

courtesy, and went. 
And I said, " Let us part : in a hundred 

years it'll be all the same, 
You cannot love me at all, if you love 

not my good name.'" 

XIII. 

And he tum*d, and I saw his eyes all 

wet, in the sweet moonshine : 
*' Sweetheart, I love you so well that 

your good name is mine. 
And wliat do I care for Jane, let her 

speak of you well or ill ; 
But many me out of hand : we too 

shall be happy still." 

XIV. 

"Marry you, "Willy!" said I, "but I 

needs must speak my mind, 
And I fear you'll listen to tales, be 

jealous and hard and unkind." 
Buthe tuni'dand clasptme in his arms, 

and answer'd, " No. love, no ; " 
Seventy years ago, my darling, seventy 

years ago. 

XV. 

So WlllT and I were wedded : I wore a 

lilac gown ; 
And the ringers rang with a will, and 

he gave the ringera a crown. 
But the first that ever I bare was dead 

before he was born, 
Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, 

fiower and thorn. 

XVI. 

That was the first time, too, that ever 

I thought of death. 
There lay the sweet little body that 

never had drawn a breath. 
X had not wept, little Annie, not since 

I had iNsen a wife ; 
But I wept like a child that dav, for the 

babe had fought for his life 

xvn. 

His dear little face was troubled, as if 
wiUi anger or pain : 



I look'd at the still little body— hij 

trouble had all been in vain. 
For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see 

him another morn : 
But I wept like a child for the child 

that was dead before he was 

born. 

XVIII. 

Buthecheer'd me, my good man,foi 

he seldom said me nay : 
Kind, like a man, was he ; like a man, 

too, would have his way : 
Never jealous— not he : we had many a 

happy year ; 
And he died, and I could not weep — 

uiy own time seem'd so near. 

XIX. 

But I wish'd it had been God's will that 

I too, then could have died : 
I began to be tired a little, and fain 

had slept at his side. 
And that was ten years back, or more, 

if I don't forget : 
But OS to the children, Annie, they're 

all about me yet. 

XX. 

Pattering over the boards, my Annio 

who left me at two, 
Patter she goes, my own little Annie, 

an Annie like you : 
Pattering over the boards, she comes 

and goes at her will, 
While Harry is in the five-acre and 

Charlie ploughing the hill. 

XXI. 

And Harry and Charlie, I hear them 
too— they sing to their team : 

Often they come to the door in a pleas- 
ant kind of a dream. 

They come and sit by my chair, they 
hover about my bed — 

I am not always certain if they l^e alive 
or dead. 

XXII. 

And yet I know for a truth, there's 

none of them left alive ; 
For Harry went at sixty, your father 

at sixty-five : 
And Willy, my eldest-bom, at nigh 

threescore and ten ; 
I knew them all as babies, and now 

they're elderly men. 

XXIII. 

For mine is a time of peace, it is not 

often I grieve ; 
I am of tener sitting at home in my f&4 

ther's farm at eve : 
And the neighbors come and laugh and 

gossip, and so do I ; 
I find myself often laughing at things 

that have long gone by. 



xxrv. 

To be sure the preacher sa' 
should mB^Q>]A 



Qus «ILba 




11^ 



NORTHERN FARMER. 

iiUtneotpoHco, Mil 
nuw U bo liad ; 



"a Annie, 



IIBS iroiii jlBlll, 

Anil baiw liM Ehoii my Itto; 
woulit not liiB IC HHOln. 



So '^VIIIt bu BOiic, my txanty, my 

nut tiow »» I weeii for 'Wllly/he has 
but anna fur ui hour. — 



^ 



KOttTUEIlN FAllSIEU. 

'WniiB 'oBta lieUn Miw long and m 

HH!t»"«ronlotiii? 
Koonw V niuort now t o' a iiooree: whc 

IXicWr'a Bbuftii ■»' n)tnl(n : 
Bo^ lliit I moliiiC 'a now luour Ull< 

Gil mkmy oHle. fot I beiint b-qocIu' 
braUk my rule. 

nooton, they knans nowt. to 

tlilnga ibm n do. 
I'vo'od my jKilnt a' aSlo Itt; 

All' I've 'wl my gunrt iTiy 
uolgbt for foorly year. 

P»n«n'a ■ beKn luUcewoiie.kn 

■ere o' my bed. 
H Tlia ■mulglity') n laUdu i 



r<Iaue my duty by 'm, oi L 'a douD tiy 



Lora'd ft nuT b^. i 

MarriS'a iMdrn 
' B knawi 1 La 



did, 'boot Brsi 



An' I hallm eoorond to'a clworch itMt 

moy Sally wur dead, 
Au' 'eBrdunabummlu' awilyMlcfi 
_ iJUBmtd-olock • ower my^eiul, 

An* I UioiytaHLld wliotoinM'aiuZt 



1, too, »ball go 111 a mliiuto.'wliM Umo 


Mowt 


"bii^ltX'!?"''''"*^™' 


bare I to Im voxt ; 


■Slver 


I kep-m, I kep 'm, my UM,Ua 










luy duty by 'm 'us I -a deB* 


Aud %ni1y'i mco Lna written, abe 




by'tha loud: ■" ' ""^ 


imrurwiu otDi^nlae. 






Tbiinli but a t:¥lle left you, when I 


DutP 


mon n comee an- a inHK an' i 




»ayalteili.ya.i-rreeir^' 


BluUbavBpaataway. 


"ThB 


BiiiolBbty. a tallkiu o" yen to 


Hut atay wl'b Ihu oli) wumiui nnn- ; yuu 




'1b«*ii, my friend.-' aaya ■««. 
t satty men be loiani. tfiaw fm- 


uMUiut liave long to suiy. 








iimo iiBld it in -aiiBie ; 



an' I 'a Btubb'd Thunuby 
iva«ale. 

D'ya molnd the wattnU, my Ian? Ban, 

nan-, tha waa not bom tb<il : 
Tbcor wiir a Upggla iu U, 1 oCt«m '♦«rt 

MoBallolkeabuttor-bomp, t ImI'mbI 

'Ul aboDC JLIl' flltnnr. 

DutI 



rallied ai 



ramblea'iuMU 



KeBper'B It wnr i fo' they ton 'm lliwt 

a-loald an 'la fa» 
Doon 1' itio volld 'enonilea I aftwr 

«inm«l \o theplaitw 

ibleby— loant 




TirnoNUS. 



209 



XT. 



l!Tob1rat a Mt on it '8 left, an* I roeMn'd 

to 'a stubbed it at fall, 
Done it ta-year I mefliiM, an' ruuu'd 

nlougli thrufT it an**al), 
If gooainolghty an' parson 'ud nobbut 

let ma aloftn, 
>Ieil, wi' haate oonderd liaSere o' 

Sqnoire'B, an' loud o* my oaii. 

XII. 

Do godaraoicbty knaw what a *8 doing 

a-taakin' o' mea ? 
I be&nt wonn ad saw:* *ere a beUn an' 

yonder a pe^ ; 
An* Squoire *uU be sa mad on* all— a' 

dear a* dear! 
Jknd 1 'a managed for Squoire come 

Micliaelmas thutty year. 

XIII. 

A mcwt *a taKen owd JoSnes, as 'ant 

nor a 'aUpoth o' sense, 
Or a mowt 'a taften young Robins— a 

niver mended a fence : 
But godamoighty a moost tafike me^ 

an' taitke ma now 
Wi' 'a&f tbe cows to cauve an* Thuma- 

by hoalms to plougli 1 

XIV. 

Loook *ovr quoloty smoiles when they 

seeHs ma a passin' by, 
8ay8 to tbees^n naw doubt ** what a 

man a bett sewer-ly ! '* 
For tbey knaws what I beHn to Squoire 

sin fust a corned to the 'All ; 
I done my duty by Squoire an' I done 

my duty by nalL 

XV. 

Sqaoire's in tAinnon, an* summun I 

. reckons 'uU 'a to wroite, 
For -wholl 's to howd the lond ater meft 

thot muddles ma quoit ; 
SarHn-sewer I befi, thot a weilnt niver 

give it to Jo^nes, 
Kaw nor a moiint to Robins— a niver 

rembles the stoSns. 

XVI. 

But snmmun 'nil come ater meft may 

hap vri* is kittle o' steilm 
Huzadu' an' maiizin' the blessed f eillds 

-wi' the Divil's o&i te&m. 
If I mun doy I mun doy, an' loife they 

says ia sweet, 
Bat if I mun doy I mun doy, for I 

couldu abettr to see it. 

XVII. 

IHiat atta stannin' theer for, an' doesn 

bring ma the 'a&le ? 
Doctor's a tottttler, lass, an a 's hallus i' 

the owd tafile ; 
I weiint breftk rules for Doctor, a knaws 

naw moor nor a floy ; 
Git ma my 'a2(le I tell thai an' if I mun 

doj I mun doy. 



TITHONUS. 



The woods decay, the woods decay and 

fall. 
The vapors weep their burden to tlie 

ground, 
Man comes and tills the field and lies 

beneatli. 
And after many a summer dies the 

swan. 
Me only cruel immortality 
Consumes : I wither slowly in thine 

arms. 
Here at the quiet limit of the world, 
A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a 

dream 
The ever silent spaces of the East, 
Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls 

of mom. 

Alas 1 for this gray shadow, once « 

man — 
So glorious in his beauty and thy 

choice, 
Who madest him thy chosen, that he 

seem'd 
To his great heart none other than a 

God! 
I ask'd thee, " Give me immortality." 
Then did'st thou grant mine asking 

with a smile. 
Like wealthy men who care not how 

they give. 
But thy stronff Hours indignant work'd 

tneir wills, 
And beat me down and marr'd and 

wasted me. 
And tlio' they could not end me, left 

me maim'd 
To dwell in presence of immortal youth. 
Immortal age beside immortal youth, 
And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love, 
Thy beauty, make amends, tho' even 

now, 
Close over us, the silver star, thy guide^ 
Shines in those tremulous eyes that till 

with tears 
To hear me ? Let me go : take back 

thy gift : 
Why should a man dieslre in any way 
To vary from the kindly race of men. 
Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance 
Where all should pause, us is most 

meet for all ? 

A soft air fans the cloud apart ; 

there comes 
A glimpse of that dark world where I 

was born. 
Once more the old mysterious glimmer 

steals 
From thy pure brows, and f i-om thy 

shoulders pure, 
And bosom beating with a heart re- 

new'd. 
Thy cheek begins to redden thro' the 

gloom. 
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly dose 

tomine% 



V 



TBE VOYAGE. 



£re 7at tbey blind tlie Mai's, utd Uio 
■WhtoU loTS Ihee, jeamlrg lor thy 



.t Uie iwlllglit into flnkea of 



t>eparteel, and tliy U 

■WTiTwllt thnn evei 
tl.y tesra. 



In dojB lar- 



rameirlUi 



TliBdlmpnrl«hinillBlnlo«uim)'rinEi! 
CLuigeiL with thy myiUc chouge, »»d 

iw with the glow that slowly crim- 

■onM all 
T praseuue aucl thy portala, whlls I 

Month, tnrehenil, eyalUla, growliig 

With kisMB biilnilii tlian haU-openiiig 

or April, ona pould hear Iho lips thai 

WhliperinB I knew not what of wild 

e that lUaiigB song I hentil Apollo 
sine, 
■Wblla Illoii like a mlBt roBO into 



Yet hold B 



not fnr 



;r In thhi 



Aie aU thy lights, 

klcil feet 
[Tpon thy pliiamerlng throshrlils, vihea 

Floats up from Uioie dim Gekis about 

bauiiy ninu that have tho povor to 

1 And graiiy burowB of the happier 



Thon teVn nil things, Uion wilt «s 
Tlion wilt irmew Uij bfsnty mor 
I earth In eaith forget tliau e: 

And thee retarnlnB on thy i 

whsels. 

THE VOYAGE. 



We loft betilnil the 



pnlntcil bnoy 



Dry BMig the tackle, rangthstaili 
Tl.e fjuly-B-haul upoji Iho prow 
caught tlie Bhrlfl salt, uhI sbesr' 



Tho brood i 
We fflit thi 



) goud Dlilp ihake and 
'dto sail tutotne Sun 

Itow nft WB mw the Snn retira. 

And burn the tfareabold otlliaBUIlL 
Fall from his Ooodn-lano ol flra, ^^ 

And sleep beneath his plllar-il IMtl 
Ilijw all the puiple-aklrted niba 

lir twilight Blowly downward diaw* 
As thro' the slomber of the eloba 

Agulii we dasU'd Into the oann | 

New Btan all night aboTe the turbB 

(Jf uBtere ll|<hteu'd Inla view ; 
They olimb'd a« quickly, for Uie iIb 

Clianged every momuut as we as*. 
Far tan the naked moon Bcrou 

The houseless ocean's Iwaviug Held, 
Or Hying shone, the silver boss 

Of her own halo's duakj' shield; 



High towua oil Mill were ^inilTMen, 
"Vi'ts pHet lung lilies of Moilheru fapvs 

We coma to warmer wavet, and d^it 
AerusB the bouiidleu r«it we .IrovLV 
When 












By peaks that tiamtit, 

Glonm'd the lew vusat and qnlTerlnl 
With luihy rains, that ipreaiUui madB 



REQUIESCAT, 



. 211 



Fantastic plume or aable pine ; 
By sanda aua steaming flats and floods, 

Of mijzhty month, we scudded f ast. 
And hills and scarlet-mingled woods 

Glow'd for a moment as wo past. 

VII. 

O hundred shores of happy climes. 

How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark ! 
At times the whole seaburn\l.at times 

With wakes of tire we tore the dark; 
At times a carven craft would shoot 

From havens hid in fairy bowers, 
With naked limbs and flowers andf ruit. 

But we nor paused for fruit nor 
flowers. 

Tin. 

For one fair Vision ever fled 

Down the waste waters day and 
night. 
And still we f ollow*d where she led, 

In hope to gain upon her flight. 
Her face was evermore unseen, 

And flxt upon the far sea-liue ; 
But each man murmur'dy ** O, my 

Sueen. 
ow till I make thee mine.*' 

IX. 

And now we lost her, now she g1eam*d 

Like Fancy made of golden air. 
ICow nearer to the prow she seem'd 

Like Virtue iirm, like Knowledge 
fair, 
Kow high on waves that idly burst 

Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd 
the sea. 
And now, the bloodless point reversed, 

She bore the blade of Liberty. 

X. 

And only one among us— him 

We pleased not — he was seldom 
pleased : 
He saw not far : his eyes were dim : 

But ours he swore were all diseased. 
** A ship of fools," he shriek'd in gpite, 

** A ship of fools,*' he sueer'd and 
wept. 
And overboard one stormy night 

He ccst his body, and on we swept. 

xr. 

And never sail of ours was f urVd, 

Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn ; 
We loved the glories of the world, 

But laws ot nature were our scorn ; 
For blasts would rise and rave and 
cease, 

But whence were those that drove 
the sail 
Across the whirlwind's heart of peace. 

And to and thro* the counter-gale ? 

XII. 

Aniln to coldei climes we came. 
For still we followed where she led : 

Aow mate is blind and captain lame. 
Aim! halt the crew are sick or dead. 



But blind or lame or sick or sound 
We follow that which flies brforo \ 

We know the merry world is round, 
And we may sail for evermore. 



IX THE VALLEY OP CAUTERET2, 

All along the valley, stream that flashi- 
est white. 

Deepening thy voice with the deepen- 
ing of the night. 

All along the valley, where thy waters 
flow, 

1 wolk'd witli one I loved two and tliir* 
ty years ago. 

All along the valley while I walk'd to 
day. 

The two antl thirty years were a mist 
that rolls uway ; 

For all along the valley, down thy 
rocky bed 

Thy living voice to me was as the voice 
of the dead. 

And all along the valley, by rock and 
cave and tree, 

The voice of the dead was a living 
voice to me. 



THE FLOWER. 

OxcE in a golden hour 

I cast to earth a seed. 
Up there came a flower. 

The people said, a weed. 

To and fro they went 
Thro* my garden-bower, 

And muttering discontent 
Cursed me and my flower. 

Then it grew so tall 
it wore a crown of light, 

But thieves from o'er the wall» 
Stole the seed by night. 

Sow'd it far and wide 
By every town and tower, 

Till all the people cried, 
'* Splendid is the flower." 

Read my little fable : 
He that runs may read. 

Most can raise the flowers now. 
For all have got the seed. 

And some are pretty enough^ 
And some are poor iiide^ 

And now again the people 
Call it but a weed. 



REQUIESCAT. 

Fair is her cottage in its place* 
Where yon broad water sweetly slowi 
\j glides. 

It sees itself from thatch to base 
Dream iu the slidiug tides. 



THE niNGLET. 



I llfu Uii. hnur 



THE SAILOR BOT. 

no nt ilRwn anil, flrsil witli hope, 
, o'vr Uiu aeuililiii hnclxir-bnc, 
euh'd lbs Btilii ami caoglit tUe 

Anil wli&tlBd to th« maming itftr. 
I Ami wbllo bs vUlellul long nn<l louil 

Ha lni«rd a (larce uionniildeii cry, 
' "Obiiy, llio'Uiou»rtyoungBiid|miuil. 

1 ago tUe pUwa wliBro Uiuu wilt lia. 
p Tho aBii4» BiHl yoiut* •arBOa mil 



_ jn lliv i-iba the Umppt atii 
TaiiJ in tliy lie»rt Oib aorawU «ljal 

1 pi»y" 

W Pool," ba anawBred, " death \» Biire 
V .To thnae tba( stay anik llioaa Iha 

It Willi uuiply liauJi at Lomo- 
" M V innllur cllnBB aliout my neck. 
My elatara cryliij ■ SUiy lur Bhnnia ; 

''rUi'V lira nil lolilaiiiB.UitynrBiUl li 
fc* OBill'rC«"J^^y ^™rt^ ^^'^^ ,, 

THE ISLET. 
t' Wnirritn. O wUlther, lovo, aluill wi 



a 5!a'«(n) 



at fullowisl Ilia day the 
'wUlher, love, sLall ve 



!BT ihaklni hla ci 



Rut n bcry of Kroaea arpl<-<^he?l['cl> 
III a ahaltop oE tvit\a.\ ivory-llBHk'il, 
VWh B aalin aail of a rnby eIow, 
I'd a awcet llCUa Eduu ou eurtli that I 

kiiov. 
A momiuin lalct polrleil ami pealtM ; 
'WaTDs on a dlamnnil ablneledKali. 
Calamcl broolca lo the orenn ruu, 
pntrlly-delicata palacea eliliie 

Aaii oientream'd auil ^lieTt'«tteak'd 



With many a rivtilct high aertnattlw 

The fa"eta ot the sloiiana DHuat^n 

Hash 
Almve LliH valleys of palm and plae.' 
"Tliithor. O lUiher, Idie, lettugo.' 
"No, no, ne! 

F'lt In all that exnulidte lile, tny Hear, 
lliera !» but one binl wiih a mudcal 

And hla coiupasa ia but one nt a alngl* 
That II makea one weary lo hear," 

k me not ! IotcIm 



' Alock me nol 

■N-o, loTB, no. 
rue llie bud ei 



Awl a Biorm never wakes In thu lonalr 

And a worm is therein ilielonely wood. 
That piocces the liver ami blnckeua tlil 

And lookea it a EOrrow to be." 



THE RDiGLET. 

" Tnrn iInB!ot»,Tnnr ringlelii. 

It v™ ivui e'vB^me*o";r^ut one. 

Toklaallnlahtaiiilday. 
Then iieTflrclillliiig touch oITIms 

Will tutu It Bllver-gmy; 
Aiul thru ahall 1 know it Is all tma 

gold 
To Dunie and spatklo mid stream is o' 

Till nil tlie coniela In heaven are eaU, 

"Tlien take It, love, Bmf put 
Ilila ciuiuut diBuge, 



ml put II to j^ 

Z. 

"MyiinBlB'- my ringlet. 

That art ao Boldeii-Eay, 
Kow never ihllllnH touiih o[ Tline 

(jan turn llieo allver-gmy ; 
Aud a ltd may nluk, aiuI a gitl nU 
hint. 

And a tuol may any IiU say ; 
For niy doubiaaiid leara were kUwuIbk 
AihI I awear heuc-elurlli by Uiii ■'■I 

this, 
That a doubt will only rome for B Uh 

" I1ien kisa It, love, and tiul ItW : 
U thla vau change, why ao uiu W' 

Oninilet.O Kinglet, 
1 klaa'd vou ntebt and day. 

And KIliBlel.O Kinglet. 
YouBUll are golden-gBT, 

But Ringlet, Oltinglot. 
Vou should be BllTer-grsy : 

For what ia Ihli which now Fm to4 



EXPERIMENTS. 



21? 



I that took you for true gold» 
She Uiat gave you's bought and sold. 
Sold, sold. 

2. 

O Kinglet, O Kinglet 

She Dlu8li*d a rosy red. 
When Kinglet, O Kinglet, 

She clipt you from her head. 
And Kinglet, O Kinglet, 

She gave you me, and said, 
" Come kiss it, love, and put it by : 
If this can dumge, whv so can 1." 
O lie, you golden nothing, fie 
You golden lie. 

3. 

O Kinglet, O Kinglet, 
I count you much to blame. 

For lUnglet, O Kinelet, 
You put me much to shame. 

So Kinglet, O Kinglet, 
I doom you to the flame. 

For what is this which now I learn, 

Has given all my faith a turn ? 

Bum, you glossy heretic, burn, 
Bum, bum. 



A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA. 

March T, 1863. 

8EA-KiKGS*daughter f rom over the sea. 

Alexandra ! 
Saxon and Norman and Dane are we. 
But all of us Danes in our welcome of 

thee, 

Alexandra ! 
Welcome her, thunders of fort and of 

fleet! 
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the 

street ! 
Welcome her, all things youthful and 

sweet. 
Scatter the blossom under her feet ! 
Brealc, happy land, into earlier flowers! 
Make music, O bird, in the new-budded 

bowers ! 
Blazon your mottoes of blessing and 

prayer ! 
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is 

ours ! 
Warble, O bugle, and trumpet, blare ! 
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and tow- 
ers ! 
Flames, on the windy headland flare ! 
Titter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! 
Clash, ve bells, in the merry March 

air! 
Fla8h,ye cities, in rivers of fire ! 
Kush to the roof, sudden rocket, and 

higher 
Melt into stars for the land's desire I 
R<»11 and rejoice, jubilant voice, 
Boll as a {rround-swell dash*d on the 

strand. 
Boar as the sea when he welcomes the 

land, 



And welcome her, welcome the land*8 

desire, 
The sea-king*s daughter as happy as 

fair, 
Blissful bride of a blissful heir. 
Bride of the heir of the kings of the 

sea,— 
O joy to the people, and joy to the 

throne. 
Come to us, love us and make us your 

own : 
For Saxon or Dane or Norman we. 
Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be. 
We are each idl Dane in our welcome 

of thee, 

Alexandra! 



DEDICATION 

Dear, near and true— no truer Time 

nimself 
Can prove you, tho* he make you ever- 
more 
Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life 
Shoots to the Call— take this, and pray 

that he, 
Who wrote it,honorlng your sweet faith 

in hlQi, 
May trust himself ; and spite of praise 

and scorn. 
As one who feels the immeasurable 

world, 
Attain the wise indifference of the wise; 
And after Autumn past — if left to 

pass 
His autumn into seeming-leafless 

days — 
Draw toward the long frost and longest 

night. 
Wearing his wisdom lightly, like tho 

fruit 
Which in our winter woodland looks a 

flower.* 



EXPERIMENTS. 

BOADICEA. 

WnTLE about the shore of Mona those 

Neronian legionaries 
Burnt and broke tne grove and altar of 

the Druii and Druidess, 
Far in the East BolUiicto, standing 

loftily charioted. 
Mad and maddening all that heard her 

in her fierce volubility. 
Girt bv half the tribes of Britain, near 

the colony C^muloddne, 
Yeird and shriek'd between her daugh* 

ters o'er a wild confederacy. 

" They that scorn the tribes and call 
us Britain's barbarous populaces. 

Did they hear me, would they listen, 
did they pity me supplicatina;? 

Shall I heed them in their anguish? 
shall I brook to be supplicated ? 

• The fruit of the SpinOIe-tree iEvontfmm 
EuropatMM.) 



f- 





en KU foe wbo rnmiW mA told 

(tU. 
I«ilieir pncio 

Blullweteadlii 



iMDiliCal? 



Kly robed In Bjine ruio^Dt, i 
UiB terrible propbeteues. 

■r uol, UlH uf blowing woodland, 
IsluuCallvery |»rB]i«Iiil 



Ibet* tbey drank in cups of «nKnIil, 
tl«n at tabliis of ebouj Iw, 

BaOiiiz Du tbeir purple ommLbi 
their tender rllemiumcr. 

Bant tbe eaU*. and bom Ihs [HtlKai 
bretx tbe works of ilie i 

Take ibe hMFV Roman heail and ibit- 

let it, hold IC Kboiimiable. 
Cat tbe Konnn boy to plei:uiLuldilDlt 

Laah Ibe nilwlen into nioonlng, M 

I Ike tuolti.. 

•t Ou UtUuou 



11 \nx ind be aliall dwindle, 



lii4 liauit lo ba cttlabmun 



mndiBliin 

roll I HE ElanuGB Ho 
Yell'd uxid eb Bak' il b«t» 
usis iu bsr flBrcu i 



SPECIMEN OF A TRANSLATION OF THE ILIAD. 2\h 



Till her people all around the royal 
chariot agitated. 

Madly dash'd the darts together, writh- 
ing barbarous liueiinieuts, 

Made the noise of frosty wo<Ml1and8, 
when they shiver in Jauuai-y, 

Roar'd as when the rolling breakers 
boom and blanch ou the preci- 
pices, 

Yell'ct as wiien the winds of winter tear 
an oak on a promontory. 

So the silent colony hearing her tumul- 
tuous adversaries 

Clash the darts and on the buckler beat 
with rapid unanimous hand, 

Thoueht on all her evil tyrannies, all 
ner pitiless avarice. 

Till she felt the heart within her fall 
and flutter tremulously, 

Then her pulses at the clamoring of her 
enemy fainted away. 

Out of evil evil flourishes, out of tyr- 
anny tyrannv buds. 

San the land with Koman slaughter, 
multitudinous agonies. 

Perish'd many a maid and matron, 
many a valorous legionary. 

7ell the colony, city, and citadel, Lon- 
don, Yerulam, C^mulodiiue. 



IX QUANTITY. 

MILTOX. 

Alcaics, 

O MTOHTT-MOUTH'D iuvcntor of har- 
monies, 
O skiird to sing of Time or Eternity, 
God-gifted organ-voice of England, 
Milton, a name to resound for ages ; 
Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, 
StarrM from Jehovah's gorgeous armo- 
ries, 
Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean 
Kings to the roar of an angel onset — 
Me ratlier all that bowery loneliness, 
Hie brooks of Eden mazilv murmuring. 
And bloom profuse and cedar arches 
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean. 
Where some refulgent sunset of India 
Streams o*er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, 
And crimson-hucd the stately palm- 
wooils 
Whisper in odorous heights of even. 

Jlendecasyllahics, 

O Tou chorus of indolent reviewers. 
Irresponsible, indolent revieweis, 
Ixx^, I come to the test, a tiny poem 
Ail i*oniposed in a metre of CatulUisi, 
All lu quantity, careful of my motion. 
Like the skdter ou ice that hardly bears 

him. 
Lest 1 fall unawares before the people. 
Waking laughter in indolent re viuwcrs. 
Should 1 flounder awhile without a 

tumble 
Thro' this metriflcation of Catullus, 
They should speak to mc not without a 

welcome. 



All that chorus of indolent reviewers. 

Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tum- 
ble, 

So fantastical is the dadnty metre. 

Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor 
believe me 

Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers. 

O blatant Magazines, regard me rather— 

Since I blush to belaud myself a mo- 
ment— 

As some rare little rose, a piece of in- 
most 

Horticultural art, or half coquette-like 

Maiden not to be greeted unbenignly. 



SPECIMEN OF A TRANSLATION 
OF THE ILIAD IN BLANK 
VERSE. 

So Hector said, and sea-like roar*d his 

host ; 
Then loosed their sweating horses from 

the yoke. 
And each beside his chariot bound his 



And oxen from the city, and goodly 

sheep 
In haste they drove, and honey-hearted 

wine 
And bread from out the houses brought, 

and heap'd 
Their firewood, and tlie winds from off 

the plain 
Roll'd the rich vapor far into the hea- 
ven. 
And these all night upon the bridge • of 

war 
Sat glorying ; many a fire before them 

blazed : 
As when in heaven the stars about tho 

moon 
Look beautiful when all the winds are 

laid. 
And every height comes out, and jut- 
ting peak 
And valley, and the immeasurable 

heavens 
Break open to their highest, and all the 

stars 
Shine, and the Shepherd gladdens in 

his heart : 
So many a fire between the ships and 

stream 
Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of 

Troy, 
A thousand ou the plain ; and close by 

each 
Sat fifty in the blazo of burning fire ; 
And champing golden grain, the horses 

stood 
Hard by their chariots, waiting for the 

dawn, i^ 

//iaci VIII. 542 -6C1. 

• Or, ridge. 

1 Or more literally,-- 

And eatini; hoary grain and pulvc the 

steed* 
StocKl by theic cm»» •w«\\.\tv\; W\« ^}^T<:m.«\ 
morn. 




THE ricTin. 



Have ie aught iliai is wDrr 



noujili (or deploring, 

Ituc uiBliC thai is worlh Ihc 

BB HI my feet were flowitiE. 
BvesontliosliliiHla tioui'Iiig, 
Old Year loarliie and blow! 



The geiitlalieHrt, I 

That itinde you onca bo denr In mf 
Yonr voke la atllt uaweet ag lUcii, 

Yoor face is ntill u pnre tuid nm 
I see the graces or niy love 

All rlpviieJ In lier woiDsnliond. 



If so 



I'Bar^ot 




Butli 
ThoiiB 



All 1 LRcJy Clam Vero lie Vere, 
W« sit togBtlier now aa then i 
J ijruBBjourhiiiid.yimiiiHKtniyelauoe, 
__\ye«Bema.l(_we'loTe,IugHin. 

poasemea uuv tiuuls 
vi V iio DUb BimuLAtfi tu-dny. 
BliicB lait we met inj Lady Veie, 
You've growii In yearn and culture 

k&iM, imtting chlldlBb thlnga away, 
Saiighl irariiis [or a single 



TuaddBuolhomwiiBUH 
Xbe tiead-iolt of the 
Bhilti. 

VhatJ^IttUBlibeari 









Von did but leelc to vlills awny 
The slow lionra of an Ull« iiiwht 

The faul t lay wl* llis fool »iio ft 
To read your cluuacler uri}jhi. 

Bnt, Lady Clara Vera de Vere, 
You maka your wsrea hy fa 

Tour uM°?^[n« all a> fHU Hint k 
Within tlie limit of iU ■weeva- 

You lit bealde me here lo-dHy, 
You try to make ma lose uam 

But I im Mfe the nidle I (htiik 



V, Clar. 

rvuf Ilieeauiiierfeit, 

»lth yeandiig hnelt ui 

^ImesliiikMwjilitbli 

Iduhaiigeyoumeatlii 

:rue love for everinof 



A ulaytliingfr 
A II aw world 



Bring Rll J 
Shoot nil your darM, Uiey numol 



THE YICTtM. 

A FLAnrE upon Uin neonle fell. 

A famine aftvr luid theni low, 
Then Uiorue oiid byre arose In fits, 

For oil them brake ibe sudden 1 



What would yi 



Were it our dea 



ly lireak ? 



ivhlten'd al) ilia rolling flood \ 
Bilmeulay all ovur Ilia way. 
wii iu a furrow ■.aUied with 

^rer and ays tlie priui 

!tlucituaui-d tb&ttuti 

"The Klneisliappy 



Tlie Prlpa 



LUCRETIUS, 



217 



She caRt lier armt nbont tlie child. 
riie child was only eight Buniinen o]d> 
ilia beauty still with his years in- 
creased, 
ffla face was ruddy, his hair was gold. 
He eeem'd a Tictim due to the priest. 
The Priest beheld him, 
And cried witli Joy. 
** The Gods have answered : 
We give them the boy,'* 

VI. 

Tlie Kingroturnod'd from out the wild, 

He bore but little same in hand ; 
The uiotber said **They have talcen 
tlie child 
To spill his blood and heal the land ; 
The land is sick, the people diseased, 
And blight and famine on all the lea; 
The holy Uods, they must be appeased, 
So I pray you tell the truth to me. 
Tlipy have taken our sou, 
Tuey will Imve his life. 
Is Ae your dearest? 
Orl, the wife?" 

V. 

The King bent low, wiUi hand on brow, 
He stay'd his arms upon his knee : 

**U wife, what use to answer now? 
For ttow the Priest has judged for 



,» 



mc. 

The King was shaken witli holy fear : 
** The Gods," he said, ** would have 
chosen well ; 

Tet both are near, and both are dear. 
And which the dearest 1 cannot 
tell » " 
But the Priest was happy, 
His victim won : 
** We have his dearest, 
His ouly sou ! '* 

VI. 

The rites prepared, the victim bared, 
The hnlfe uprising toward the blow, 

To the altar-stone she sprang alone, 
•* Me, not my darling, no ! " 

He caught her away with a sudden cry; 
Suddenly from him brake his wife, 

Aud shrieking '* / am his dearest, 1 — 

1 am his dearest ! " rush*d ou the 
Knife. 

A nd the Priest was happy, 
•• O, Father Odin, 
We give you a life. 
Which was his nearest ? ] 
Who was his dearest ? 
TIte Gods have answer*d ; 
We give them the wife ! *' 



LUCRETIUS. 

LDCII.IA, wedded to I^ucretius, found 
Her master cold ; for when the morn- 
ing flush 
Of pMsion and the first embrace had 
died 



Between them, tho' he loved her none 

the les.s, 
Yet often when the woman heard his 

foot 
Keturn from pacings in the field, and 

ran 
To greet him with a kiss, the master 

took 
Small notice, or austerely, for— his 

mind 
Half buried in some weightier agru- 

nicnt, 
Or fancy-borne perhaps upon the rise 
Aud long roll of tho Hexameter— he 

past 
To turn and ponder those three hun- 
dred scrolls 
Left by the Teacher whom he held 

divine. 
She brook 'd it not ; but wrathful, pet- 
ulant 
Dreaming some rival, sought and found 

a witch 
Who brew'd the philtre which had 

IK)wer, they said, 
To lead an errant passion home again. 
And this, at times, she mingled with 

his drink, 
And this destroy'd him; for the wicked 

broth 
Confused the chemic labor of the Mood, 
And tickling the brute brain withiu 

the man's 
Made havoc among those tender cellar 

and check 'd 
His power to shape : he loathed him* 

self ; an<l once 
After a tempest woke upon a mom 
That niock*d him with returning calm, 

aiuy[||ed ; 

** Storm in the night ! for thrice I 
heard the rain 
Rushing : and once tho flash of a thun- 
derbolt — 
Methought I never saw so fierce a fork- 
Struck out the streaming mouuiaiu* 

side, and show'd 
A riotous confluence of watercourses 
Blanching and billowing in a hollow 

of it. 
Where all but yester-eve was dusty-dry. 

" Storm, and what dreams, ye holy 
Gods, what dreams ! 

For thrice 1 waken'd after dreams. 
Perchance 

We do but recollect the dreams that 
come 

Just ere the waking : terrible ! for it 
seem'd 

A void was made In Nature ; all her 
bonds 

Crack'd ; and I saw the flaring atom- 
streams 

And torrents of her myriad universe. 

Ruining along the illiniitHble inane, 

Fly on to clash together again, and 
make 

Another aud aT\o\h«i tTtovi^ ol>2^iQ:ej^ 



■■Mi^p^*^ 



LUCRETIUS. 



For CT« : Itiot ^"^ nin», tny (bram, I 
luiair il— 

VUli Innrd Telp sod reatlto* lontoot 

Bii fnnclioB of the woodluiJ : but tlie 

I ihonstii Itist ikll tbe lilond b; 5 jlla 

Came driving rainlike down again on 

And mtivri tt dadiM lbs nddening 
meadow, »prang 

For tboe 1 thought m; dream voal J 
io 

Tbenmlbenr-Iaeea DicUIor'i orgies 

Than angbt tbc; Iibls of tbe qaiet 

GoJs. 
Aiut bandfi thry mlxt, and jvll'd and 

In innToniiig rirclcs till 1 jrll'd agnin 
IlAlf-snrroeated, and iiiESng up, bdiI 

TVai it the Scat beam of my lateat day? 

" Tlien, tbei>,from utter gloom Btood 

id Loreiingl; 

now direct. 



Thebmutiof 

SovoTeralid 






At all that beonty ; and s 

The fire tSial left a roofl-S 
Sliot out of tbem, uiU iseod 



Forgetful how my lidi pioceniion 

Thj- glory fly BlonEthcIuliaii llelil. 
Inlay" lliat will oaaust thy Deity ? 

" J>eity ? nay, thy woFBhipperB, My 

Trip«,orl»peakprofanely. Whlchof 

Koc \( Oina be'et of lliose n-bo, far 
Flom envy, hate and pi;y, nnrl ipilo 
I.Wo 0\e great Ike ittilcli all oargrcat- 
Woald follow, centred in eternal ealm. 



Tonch, and be toucli'd, llian ininUI 

cry lo Oiee 
To kin tliy MttTore, roll tby leiKlal 

Round Wm^ajid^keep him froin Uia 

ug BlBOghWl- 






Wbom all Ibe pines of Ida ahoul 

Slide from that quiet taeaTen of 1 

Tlie Tro]an, while bis neat-berd> i 

Kar ber (bat o'er her wounded lin 
vepl 






Deity false in human-araarau 

nhoni lier beardieu apple-nrbllir 
ded taireat. Kalher, iSjB tiodl, 
-like, as tbe erest Siriiran called 
OBB Io irraee bis golden vertB- 
Kyprls also— did I uks 



Tbe Bll-generaUng powers and gsnltl 

Of Nature, wbon alio strikes tbro' 111! 

lliick blood 
0( cattle, and Ugbt ia large, and lint* 

>-aaiDg tbe motlier's udder, aiidUiii 

Makes bis heart voice amid tbe blm 



Unlliiisli'd — if I go. Hifl (ioda, bM 

The lueid interspace of world ml 
world, "^ 

a wiuil, 
Kor ever falli Ibe least Hhlts atar A 

Nur sound ol buman sorrow manuttx 
Their laered eTerlaatlns calm t aiii 



Is Ihere are, for all mn 
footataps Intolila. and m 



LUCRETIUS. 



219 



Of flowery clauses onward to the proof 
That Gods there are, and deathless. 

Meant ? I meant ? 
I hare forgotten what I meant : my 

mind 
Stumbles, and all my faculties are 

lamed. 

" Look where another of our Qods, 

the Sun, 
Apollo. Delius, or of older use 
An-seeing Hyperion— what you will — 
Has mounted yonder ; since he never 

sware. 
Except his wrath were wreak*d on 

wreiched man, 
That he would only shine among the 

dead 
Hereafter ; tales ! for never yet on 

earth 
Could dead flesh creep, or bits of 

roasting ox 
Moan round the spit— nor knows he 

what he sees ; 
King of the East altho* he seem, and 

girt 
With song and flame and fragrance, 

slowly lifts 
His golden feet on those empurpled 

stairs 
That climb into the windy halls of 

heaven : 
And here he glances on an eye new- 
bom, 
And gets for greeting but a wail of 

pain ; 
And here he stays upon a freezing orb 
That fain would gaze upon him to the 

last ; 
And here upon a yellow eyelid fall'n 
And closed by those who mourn a 

friend in vain, 
Kot thankful that his troubles are no 

more. 
And me, altho' his fire is on my face 
Blinding, he sees not, nor at all can tell 
Whether I mean this day to end myself. 
Or lend an ear to Plato where he says. 
That men like soldiers may not quit 

the post 
Allotted Dy the Gods : but he that 

holds 
The Gods are careless, wherefore need 

he care 
Greatly for them, nor rather plunge at 

once, 
B^ng troubled, wholly out of sight, 

and sink 
Past earthquake— ay, and gout and 

stone, that break 
Body toward death, and palsy, death- 

in-Ufe, 
And wretched age— and worst disease 

of all. 
These prodiffles of myriad nakednesses, 
And twisted shapes of lust, unspeak- 
able, 
Abominable, strangers at mv hearth 
Mot welcome, harpies minng every 



The phantom husks of something 
foully done, 

And fleeting thro' th<$ boundless uni- 
verse, 

And blasting the long quiet of my 
. breast 

With animal heat and dire insanity ?* 

'* How should the mind, except it 
loved them, clasp 
These idols to herself ? or do they fly 
Now thinner, and now thicker, like the 

flakes 
In a fall of snow, and so prees in, per- 
force 
Of multitude, as crowds that in an 

hour 
Of civic tumult jam the doors, and bear 
The keepei-8 down, and throng, their 

rags and they. 
The basest, far into tliat conncil-hall 
Where sit the best and stateliest of the 
land ? 

" Can I not fling this horror off mo 
again, 

Seeing with how great ease Mature can . 
smile. 

Balmier and nobler from her bath of 
storm, 

At random ravage ? and how easily 

The mountain there has cast his cloudy 
slough, 

Kow towering o'er him in serenest air. 

A mountain o*er a mountain,— ay, and 
within 

All hollow as the hopes and fears of 
men? 
<* But who was he, that in the garden 
snared 

Picus and Faunus, rustic Gods ? a talo 

To laugh at — more to laugh at in my- 
self— 

For look ! what is it ? there ? yon 
arbutus 

Totters ; a noiseless riot underneath 

Strikes through the wood, sets all the 
tops quivering- 

The mountain quickens Into Nymph 
and Faun ; 

And here an Oread— how the sun de- 
lights 

To glance and shift about her slippery 
sides, 

And rosy knees and supple rounded- 
ness. 

And budded bosom-peaks — who this 
way runs 

Before the rest— A satyr, a satjT. see. 

Follows ; but him I proved imnossible ; 

Two-natured is no nature: yet he draws 

Nearer and nearer, and I scan him now 

Beastlier than any phantom of his kind 

That ever butted his rough brother- 
brute 

For lust or lusty blood or provender: 

I hate, abhor, spit, sicken at liim ; and 
she 

Loathes him aa 'wqW \ «\xO:i. «» 'VT5y:^\^r 
tate heel, 



LUCP.ETIUS. 



■iiklu-v 
liltec V 



m\t. 



: Vut will ll 



. ttlBB 



Shune)«u 
Hide, hldg' theiu, mUUou-myrLled wil- 
rii4ludawiug laurcla, Mils ! 
WliU?— Uiai UiB tiuali wura leaflesa? 
All ol"^ " 



Uodi, 



Pniui 



call— 



No leniliiesg 

.-■£&_.„ 

IJo larKBf fnoAt Cluu 
With iiBlgblnre lalJ 
Onlf mi:!) cups as 



behold, toy. 

Uyed iMurely »* yo^ 
iiBJTowlUB euTy, moiike 






awijet. £|iicui 



J1I3 Uie Eiiua. W 

It us friendly- 

1 phUoBophy— 

inlifB.'^ 
eeu mouitei 



I TUt and iUiliy bands onon ray niU, 
enchiiie it bujkwud liito Ma i oiid 

MybliiB inboinR: and tirasiiotEi'eat; 

Or Heileoniaii honey In living words. 
"' make a truth leaa hanh, I oEteu 

d o( Ml mnch within oni llllle life, 
I so little In our little lile- 
Poor little Ufo tluit loddloa lial 
hour 
ira'd witlia ftovec dcIwOi and there 

And linco the nobler plcaeuto toe 

Why Bhonld I, bsantUnB as I finJ 



Hit, 



iilike e 






Bell?- 



'What beaat hiu heart to do il 

: Homan wontd be dragg' 
<imph ibus? 

' ' !, Vilio bears oi 



Kot 






wltli hei 



_ _ "And tharttorsno* 
Let Lit, that is Iha woiub and luml ' 

Great [iiiture, take, and tordnc 

llioao blind besiiiuiuga that have nuili 



CtackB oil b 



And even lii» bones long laid wllldii 

Tile very eidm at the grave itielf shall 

Vouisbiue', atom aud void, atom auJ 

Into the unseen forever, — till that hunt 
My Boldenworkiii whichltohlatruUi 
That slayi Uie rolling Ixioulwi »l«a 
And numbs the is uty's tlualewurtt, 

and iilueka 
The mortal »oul from out Im 






Sball stand: ay, 



•□rely : Uien It (at 
must 1 forOIlKKi, 



Yeaiii'd after by tbe widest ufUie wIki 
Who fidl to And thee, being as thou art 



Wlt)«)ut 

pail., 
Honbait I know 



!t Struck the dntelei 
uul the Tnniuininhi 
;r blood lii slcbt of Colhi- 
H his peer«, flushing the gui] 
Bpautfrom the maideli fDUUluuiL 



Or Boon or late, yet out of seaaon. tbB 
Hoiv roughly uiBuiiiaj- woothesi 
Thus— tlinB : the soul Hies out ai 

With that he droTo the kidfolnWliit 
side: 
She heard Idui raging, hi^snlhini 

Beat breast,' tore hidr. Filed out i 

ben'eir 
A>ihl>TiiiKraiIMbidnlvlo1dm.>1lCfrkU 
aiuktslmbutiiieiuil to win liilu buck. 

fvll oil him, 
Clasp'd, kin'd him, waiVd: be tir 

swer'd," Care not Ihou! 
•lliydulv? What in duty ;- FiKStW 



TnREE SONNETS TO A COQUETTE. 



221 



SONG. 

Is full of weary dars, 
lod tbiiigfi have nut kept aloof, 
dered into other wayti : 
not lackM thy mild reproof, 
>lden largess uf thy praise. 

f shake hands across the hrink 
t deep grave to which i go : 
indsonce more : 1 cannot shik 
—far down, but I shall know 
)ice, aud answer fiom below. 



THE CAPTAIN. 
LEGEND OP THE XAVY. 

only rules by terror 

grievous wrong, 
[ell I count his error, 
u hear my song, 
le Captain was : the seamen 
i gallant erew. 
iions of EngUsii freemen, 
I bold aud true. 
' hated his oppression^ 
le was and rash ; 
ery light transgressiou 
d them to tlie lash, 
ay more harsh and cruel 
I the Captain's mooil. 
rath like smotlier'd fuel 
in each man's blood, 
oped to purchase glory, 
to make the name 
«sel great in story, 
soe'er he came. 
)ast by capes and islands, 
I harbor-mouth, 
mder palmy highlands 
thin the South. 

when they were going 
e lone expanse, 
)rth, her canvas flowing, 
ship of France. 
) Captain's color heighten'd, 
came his speech : 
»udy gladness lighten'd 
eyes of each. 

' he said: the ship flew for- 
rd, 

le wind did blow ; 
Lightly, went she Norward, 
3 near*d the foe. 
ly look'd at him they hated, 
liat they desired : 
Xi folded arms they waited — 
;un was flred. 

heard the foeman's thunder 
g out their doom ; 
ir was torn in sunder, 
iig went the boom, 
re splinter'd, decks were shat- 
d, 

( fell like rain ; 
tt and deck were scattcr'd 
uid brains of men. 



Spars were splinter*d; decks wcrd 
broken : 

Every mother*s son- 
Down they dropt— no word was s;jo- 
ken — 

Each beside his gun. 
On the decks as they were lying, 

Were their fuces grim. 
In their blood, us they lay dying, 

Did tliey smile on him. 
Those, in whom he had reliance 

For his noble name, 
Witli one smile of still defiance 

Sold him unto shame. 
Shame and wrath his heart confound- 
ed, 

Pale he turn*d and red, 
Till himself was deadly wounded 

Falling on the dead. 
Dismal eiTor ! fearful slaughter ! 

Years have wanderM by, 
Side by side beneath the water 

Crew and Captain lie ; 
There the sunlit ocean tosses 

O'er tliem mouldering, 
And the lonely seabird crosses 

With one waft of the wing. 



THREE SONNETS TO A 
COQUETTE. 

T. 

Caressed or chidden by the dainty 
hand. 
And singing airv trifles this or that, 
Light Hope aft Beauty's call would 
percli and stand. 
And run thro* every change of sharp 

and flat ; 
And Fancy came and at her pillow 
sat. 
When sleep had bound her In his rosy 
band. 
And chased away the still-recurring 
gnat. 
And woke her witli a lay from fairy 

land. 
But now they live with Beauty less and 
less. 
For Hope is other Hope and iranders 
far, 
Nor cares to lisp in love's delicious 
creeds :, 
And Fancy watches in the wilderness. 
Poor Fancy sadder than a sinsilti star. 
That sets at twilight in a land of 
reeds. 

II. 

Tlie form, the form :Uono is eloquent > 
A nobler yearning never broke her 

rest 
Than but to dance and sing, be {jayly 
drest. 
Aud win all eyes with all accouiplisli> 

nieiit : 
Yet in the waltzing-circle as we wont, 
My fancy made me for a mumeul; 
bleftl 



«ec«i 




THE POETS SONG. 



Id fliiil mj heart K ncH llu beaiileona 
That oiico had power to loli It o£ too- 

Tlie iiliuitom oCattliihtliatoncecoulil 

A ebiHt nf paulon Ibat no nullui 

Forolil UiBellBbteoqnntlc.rticraii- 

Ani'i it you klu'il ber twt a Uioiuand 

Sbe MlllRnuld take UiD |iial!>e, nnd. 

W.1I1 Sculptor weepeil Uiou to lako llio 

Of tliose dead llnearncntB ILal near 
the 8 lie? 

sottuwent Umu, pale Puiulur, for llie 

In psliitlnK Boms dciil [risnd fruni 
Weep on : bcyona LIb object LoTO can 

IllBobjoL'tllieB: mDrccaiisalonecp 
iXy tain, no teois of love, nnt Sowing 

No team ot loTe, but tcire lliat I^to 

1 pledge Uer not [n any clicerEul cnp. 



1 pledge be 



All piLy-Wnl 1 



Moth caitmrd, hnppr earlli. niid 
Tnn nraneeiunset'wnnineBlav : 

Pnim trlngcii of the fuleiJ eve. 
O, liappy planet, eaatwanl E" 1 

Till over lliy dark •honlcler clow 
'II17 eilTur Blstar-world, unQ iIbo 
Tn |{1i« bersolE In dewy cyea 

Tlial wnl,'h mo fconi llio glen boloiv. 

All, bear me vllh thee, HmoolhlT iMtiio, 
IHp forwaril under bIhjtv light, 

And inovB me 10 my msrriaBe-nioni, 
And ruunil agalu to Uappj uigUU 

Break, break, brc.ik, 



U bottt ou the bay. 



And tbealately aUpa tfttm 

Bu t O rtc tba Iflueb of a Tau 
And Uie Miuua of a voice I 

Break, break. Iireak. 
At Ibe fool of Uiy cragi. ( 

-Will never come back to 



shd l^and. 
uuiiaunl 






THE POET'S SOSG. 
i Poet ai 



A light wind VUbv from tiie gatci oftta. 

And witTM of sUailow went over 
And he mj. him domi In a lonely p| 

And elianted a nielwly load 

That made Ibo TlId-sKan iianic in bei 
An<l the huk drop down at hi* feet. 

The Bwallow alopt as be Iiuiitod lb* 
The make iillpt rnider a ■nmT. 

The wild hawk stood Vfitb tlie downoi: 



er a oiip ea eay, 

gB ot wbML tliB world will 

lu yean have lUed oway." 



Sow Ihy faco across bis tan** num*, 
And gives the battle lo hlilandl. 
Lndy, let the Innnpeta blow, 
nos[p thy little bnhm nboiii iliy knte: 
^lunlhelTwnrrior father meelBlhetH 



SOXG. 

R the; brought blni alahi wilt 
ey brought him home atev 



Tlie Snn peep*'! tn from 0|wn A^lil 
I'lie hoy began to leap and inr" 
Iteide upon Ills father^ innn, 

Beat upon lili talher-e diield— 
"Obnih, my joy, uijr >A 



NORTHERN FARMER. 



223 



OS A MOURNER. 

I. 

Katfrk, ho far as in her lies, 
Imiiatos God, and turns her face 

To every land beneath the skie^, 
Counts nothing that she meets with 

Imse, 
But lives and loves in every place ; 

II. 

Fills out the homely qnickset-screens. 
And makes the purple lilac ripe, 

Steps from her airy hill, and f^reens 
The swamp, where hums the dropping 

snipe, 
UTith moss and braided marish-pipe ; 

III. 

And on thy heart a finger lays.* 
Stoying, ** Beat quicker, for the time 

Is pleatsant, and tlie woods and ways 
Are pleasant, and the beech and lime 
Put foilh and feel a gladder clime.'* 

IV. 

And TOurmnrs of a deeper voice, 
Going before to some far shrine, 

Teach that sick heart the stronger 
choice, 
7111 all thy life one way incline 
With one wide will that closes thine. 

V. 

And when the zoning eve has died 

Where you dark valleys wind forlorn. 
Come Hope and Memory, spouse uud 
bride. 
From out the borders of the morn, 
With that fair child betwixt them 
bom. 

TI. 

And when no mortal motion jars 
The blackness round the tombing 
sod. 
Thro* silence and the trembling stars 
Comes Faith from tracts no feel have 

trod, 
And Virtue, like a household god 

VII. 

Promising empire ; snch as thos3 
lliat once Ht dead of night did greet 

Troy's wandering prince, so that he 
rose 
With sacrifice, while all the fleet 
Had rest by stony hills uf Crete. 



mis 



KORTHERN FARMER. 

3CEW STYLE. 

I. 

thou 'ear my *erse*s legs, as 
tbw canters awaiiy ? 

•qpuUy, proputty^that *s 
*Murs 'em saily. 



Proputty, propntty, propntty— Sam, 
thou *s an ass for thy paai'ns : 

Theer 's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor 
in all thy braains. 

II. 

WoU— theer *s a craw to pluck wi' tha, 

Sam : yon 's parson's 'ouse— 
Dosn't thou *knaw that a man niun be 

eather a man or a mouse ? 
Time to think on it tlien ; for thou *11 

be twenty to weeftk.* 
Proputty, proputty— woft then woi— 

let ma 'ear mys^u speak. 

III. 

Me an* thy muther, Sammy, 'as beSn 

a-talkin' o' thee ; 
Thou *s been talkin' to muther, an* she 

bean a tellin* it me. 
Thou '11 not many for munny— thou 'a 

sweet upo' parson's las:j — 
Noil— thou '11 many for luvv— an* we 

boath on us thinks tha an a»s. 

IV. 

Seea'd her to-daay goii by— Saaint's- 
daay— they was ringing the bells. 

She 's a beauty thou thinks— an' soa is 
scoors o* gells, 

Them as 'as munny an' all— wot 's a 
beauty ?— the flower a8 blaws. 

But proputty, proputty sticks, an' pro- 
putty, proputty graws. 

V. 

Do'antbe stunt : t taake time 1 1 knawa 

what niaakes tha sa mad. 
Wam't I craazed fur the lasses mys^n 

when I wur a lad ? 
But I knaw'd a Quqakor feller as often 

'as towd ma this : 
** Doant thou marry for munny, but goi 

wheer munny is ! " 

VI. 

An* I went wheer munny war : an* thy 

mother coom to 'and, 
Wi' lots o' munny laa'i'd by, an' a nice- 

tish bit o' land. 
Maaybe she wam't a beauty :— 1 niver 

giv it a thowt — 
But wam't she as good to cuddle an* 

kiss as a lass as 'ant uowt ? 

VII. 

Parson's lass 'ant nowt, an' she weant 

'a nowt when 'c's deiid, 
Mun be a guvness, lad, or suuimut, and 

addle t her bread : 
Why? fnr 'e's nobbut a curate, an* 

weant nivir git naw 'i^her : 
An' 'e masLde the bed as 'e ligs on afoot 

*e coom'd to the shire. 

viir. 

And thin 'e coom'd to the parishwi 
lots o' 'Varsity debt, 

* This wt«k. ^ OYttUnule. 'V'^vro^ 



■V 



c 




^^ 




226 TISE GOLDEN HUPPEH. 


~fl 




Sluni 1'r III" 1>'<« liul VHiiiiJi'il, none 


Found. a> It «emM. n i-knloloi. r,1-.»e, 






"knBiv ivhiT-. . 


lUvine of {lead nien'a dualand IwaUiig 






■'Hb cmw nw out," elia wept, "and 






jom" — swnil. 
















Ine, bom 








Kot from l»lle,lnB mind, but .Lal- 


rush ■ 






ter-d nerve. 








yet liauiillHg Julian, u lier own ra- 








prool 


Sprang up n (ilondahlp that may help 






At »inB predpitin™ In lier bnrUl. 


us yet. 






Then, wfien_ her own IruB »plrH UBd 


For while we niam'il along Iba OiBmsj 






For joa hato ijlrcn me lite and love 


I leanit the drearier .tnry "' lHa Ufo ; 


1 








And iioiio but you yourBcIf ahull toll 


And, tho' he loved and lionorM IJan«l. 






Found that the auOdeii wdl 111* lady 






hi in of It, 


made 






Aud JOB Bhall Elva mo bacic »lioii ho 


Dwelt In his fancy : did he know her 






rolunw." 








"Slay tbeu allttlo," aiiawcT'd Julian, 


ncr beantv'e»eii?»liouia he not be 






" here. 








And keep jounelf. none knoivlng, to 


Ev'n by the ptleo tbnt olUore aet upon 






alay. 
So. not m; hone; butseud ma notka 








Tlie vnliie of that Jewel he bad to 


H 




guard? 


H 




■Wh6n''h8'' ratorna, and lUeu will I te- 


Sud-lenly camo her notice and -mt 

Iwlth'^Si-lerer 10 hi. native Bay. 


■ 




Andl'»m'm«](o ft solemn offerliifiof 


■ 




TohimyoulovB." And f aiiiUy aho re- 
-And''l win do yo«r will, «id iiolio 


""""t^!?-"'""'"'"''*"^"""* 


H| 




That makea tJio Bequel pure; Uio" 


^^1 












DeglMiilii([HttliB«pa'lflVnowiioninM. 






Xot know 7 wlih sncli a aecret to bo 


Noi»U"h am I : a»d yt I aay. theWM 














Uiit ■ll'lhelVliDuaewaa old and loved 








them both, 


But ir my nelghboi whlsllo answcTB 






AuJ all the house had known tho 


What nmtlsr? Ihere are olhen lu Uw 


M t 




Had dl'ed aliaoet ti. aeiTO them any 


Yet wlTen I'ww her (and I ll.ought Um 


^H 




And all Ibo land woa wniU and boU- 








And tbun'bo lode awsy ; hut after 








A i;ell and kecperl, ILose dark eye* uf 








hera- 






An hour or two. Camilla'i traTBil i-nnie 


Oh ! Buch dark eye* 1 and not her eyn 






Upon hur.Nid UiiLtd=va l>oy wnsbotn, 
Uel[ -at Ida face and land, to Uouel. 


But all Item theae to wliero aha 
lonrh'd on earth. 


H 




And thoa our lonely loter rode 


For atieh _n cKllne.1 aa JuUaUlB 


^^1 




And pau^iiE Blahostol in ft manh, 


Kci leia than one divine apology. 


^H 




TborofeTer aelied upgu him; niywlf 








waathan 


So Bweetly and Bo modeiUy all* 






TnTBlUiig that laud, and nn^anC to 


To greet iiB, her young bero In her 


^H 




And aluiug dSUn lo aueh a !»«, re- 








paat. 


'■ Klaa""!!!." ahe aald. " Tou gB*a ma 






It makes me angrr yet to epaak or it — 


life Bgaln. 






I beard a jiroanliiK ovorhoBd, luid 


He, hue for you, bad Imver awn It 












Tha nioulder'J ataini (tor oreryUdng 


HlB otiictfalhoryou! Kin him. and 






w» .Ikl 


then 




J 


And In a Ml, with nono to wall on 


Forelve him, U bla name be JuUm 


Ti 


K "■ 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 



227 



: T9Xk cA lost hopes and broken heart t 

his own 
Sent such a flame into his face, I 

knew 
Some sudden yivid pleasure hit him 

there. 

Bnt he was all the more resolved to 

go, 
And sent at once to Lionel, praying 

him 
By that great love they both had borne 

the dead. 
To come and revel for one hour with 

him 
Before he left the land for evermore ; 
▲nd then to friends — they were not 

many— who lived 
Bcatteriugly about that lonely land of 

his. 
And bade them to a banquet of fare- 
wells. 

And Julian made a solemn feast : I 

never 
Sat at a costlier ; for all round his hall 
From column on to column, as in a 

wood. 
Not such as here —an equatorial one. 
Great garlands swung and blossom'd ; 

and beneath, 
Heirlooms, and ancient miiticles of 

Arc, 
Chalice and salver, wines that, Heaven 

knows when, 
Had 8uck*d the lire of some forgotten 

sun 
And kept it thro* a hundred years of 

gloom, 
Yet glowing in a heart of rnby— cups 
Where nymnh and god ran ever round 

in cola- 
Others of glass as costly— some with 

gems 
Movable and resettablo at will 
And trebling all the rest in value— Ah, 

heavens ! 
Why need I tell you all?— suffice to 

say 
That whatsoever such a house as his, 
And his was old, has in it rare or fair 
Was brought before the guest : and 

they, the guests, 
tTonder'a at some strange light in 

Julian's eyes 
(I lohl you that he had his golden 

hour), 
And such a feast, ill-suited as it 

seem'd 
To such a time, to Lionel's loss and 

his, 
And that resolved self-exile from a 

land 
He never would revisit, such a feast 
So rich, so strange, and stranger ev'n 

than rich, • 

Bnt rich as for the nuptials of a king. 

And stranger yet, at one end of the 
hall 



Two great funereal curtains, looping 

down. 
Parted a little ere they mstt the floor, 
About a picture of his lady, taken 
Some years before, and failing hid th6 

frame. 
And iust above the parting was a 

lamp : 
So the sweet figure folded round with 

night 
SeemM stepping out of darkness with 

a smiJe. 

Well then— our solemn feast^wo ate 

and drank, 
And might— the wines being of such 

nobleness — 
Have jested also, but for Julian's 

eyes, 
And something weird and wild about 

it all : 
What was it? for our lover seldom 

spoke, 
Scarce touch'd the meats; but ever 

and anon 
A priceless goblet with a priceless 

wine 
Arising, show'd he drank beyond his 

use; 
And when the feast w^as near an end, 

he said : 

*« There is a custom In the Orient, 

friends — 
I read of it in Persia— when a man 
Will honor those who feast with him, 

ho brings 
And shows them whatsoever he ao> 

counts 
Of all his treasures the most beautiful. 
Gold, jewels, arms, whatever it may 

be. 
This custom—" 

Pausing here a moment, all 
The guests broke in upon him with 

meeting hands 
And cries about the banquet—** Bean* 

liful ! 
Who could desire more beauty at a 

feast ? " 

The lover answer'd, " There is more 

than one 
Here sitting who desires it. Laud ma 

not 
Before my time, but hear me to the 

close. 
This custom steps yet further when the 

guest 
Is loved and honor'd to the uttermost. 
For after he has shown him gems or 

gold, 
He brings and sets before him in rich 

guise 
That which is thrice as beautiful as 

these. 
The beauty that is dearest to his heart — 
* O my heart's lord, would I could show 

you,' ho Bay8« 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 



•KT'nmjhmrt too.' And 
To Bliow yud whit Is dea 































Hflfillinasiak 


BDd M 


































A«dl««veW„ 


in di 


pubho 


lk„J'SUh« 
Who found UiB 










And tea. and c 


herlili'dlilu., OH 



Eii Bervice. wliom does It bslona t< 

him 
'Wlio Utrnst blm ont, or liini who Bari 



veredDubtfulhon 



■Woiah'd 

Glani-ed Ht tbo point of loir, lo pass \ 

by. 

Afflrmlng tliat KB long as either lived. 
By all the liiwi ol Idvq mid grateful 

Till »rvke of the one bo saved na 

due 
All to tlie Bavei—adding. wllh a amlle 



Andllfe nnd Umba, all Lis ta ivork 
Hill." 

Then Jnlian made a aesrvl slg 

To btliw CaniUle down before il 

And croaalngliec own picture aa 

And looklii'iBB much lovelier Ba 1 



A veil, that aeeni'dno mon 
Fl;lDg bjr each Cue ear, an EaittiW 
With seedB of gold— bo. nl 
ig'as a 

'amlBtbL 

tghlgh 111 arms the mlgliV 
IT Julian, who hImieU *U 



it 

AVhilc 

And slowly paeing to Iho middle h>a 
liefore the boanT tlieie pauBtil HH 

Kard-h caving, aud her e^OB nponlia 

Not daiine yet lo gloneo at Lionel. 
UutliimBhecaiTled, himuailighlahW 

Daied or amnied, nor eyea of tntn; 

Only to lae hla own. and staring whle , 
And hungoring for the gilt and Jowdl'il, 

About him. look'd, tu he ii Ilka » 

When JuUan goes, the lordofaUU 

"My gusata," aald Julian ; "youan 

Ev'n lo the utticmost : In her beholil 

Of all ihlngi upon earili the deamiu 

Then waving us aalgii to seit ounalTH 
Led Ilia dear lady lo a rhalr of Biato. 
Aiull, bv UonefslCtlng.uwhlsfaM 
Firo, and dead BBhee and all Are igalll 

Andheardhim muttering. "So Iik«.M 

like: 

ShenevertiadnalBter. I knewiHiM. 
Some eouahi of hU and herv-^ (Kii 

so like I " 
Aud Uieii he snOdenly ask'd twi It •: 

She aliook. and eaat her eyea down,* 

And then aame other quesUuu'd If * 



THE HIGHER PANTHEIS^r. 



229 



Another, if Uia boy were hers : but 

she 
To all their qneriei answered not a 

word. 
Which made the. amazement more, till 

one of them 
Said, shuddering, " Her spectre I " But 

his friend 
Replied, in half a whisper, " Not at 

least 
The spectre that will speak if spoken to* 
Terrible pity, if one so beautiful 
Prove, as 1 almost dread to iiud her^ 

dumb I" 

But Julian, sitting by her, answer'd 
all : 

'< She is but dumb, because in her you 
see 

That faithful servant whom wo spoke 
about, 

Obedient to her second master now ; 

VThich will not Jast. I have here to- 
night a guext 

So bound to me by common love and 
loss— - 

What ! shall I bind him more ? in his 
behalf. 

Shall I exceed the Persian, giving him 

That which of all things is the dearest 
tome, 

Kot only showing ? and ho himself pro- 
nounced 

That my rich gift is wholly mine to 
give. 

<* Now all be dumb, and pormise all 

of you 
Not to break in on what I say by word 
Or whisper, while I show you all my 

heart.*' 
And then began the story of his love 
As here to-day, but not so wordily— 
The passionate moment would not suf- 
fer that— . 
Past thro* his visions to the burial; 

thence 
Down to this last strange hour in his 

own liall ; 
And tben rose up, and with him all his 

guests 
Once more as by enchantment ; all but 

he, 
IJonel. who fain had risen, but fell 

again, 
And sat as if in chains— to whom he 

said: 

•*Take my free gift, my cousin, for 

your wife ; 
And were it only for the giver*? pake. 
And tho* she seem so like the one you 

lost. 
Yet cast her not awav so f»n«Menlv, 
Lest there be none left here to bring 

her back : 
Heave this land forever.*' Here he 

ceased. 

llien taking his dear Indy by one 
handi 



And bearing on 6ne arin the noble 
babe. 

He slowly brought them both to Lio- 
nel. 

And there the widower husband and 
dead wife 

Rnsh'd each at each with a cry, that 
rather seem'd 

For some new death than for a life re- 
newed ; 

At this the very babe began to wail ; 

At once they turn'd, and caught and 
brought him in 

To their charm'd circle, and, half kill- 
ing him 

With kisses, round him closed .and 
cliispt again. 

But Lionel, when at last he freed him- 
self 

From wife and child, and lifted up a 
face 

All over glowing with the sun of life. 

And love, and t>oundlcss thanks— the 
sight of this 

So frighted our good friend, that turn- 
ing to me 

And saying, " It is over : let ns go—*' 

There were our horses ready at the 
doors — 

We bade them no farewell, but mount- 
ing these 

He past forever from his native land ; 

And I with him, my Julian, back to 
mine. 



WAGES. 

Glory of warrior, glory of orator, 
glory of song, 
Paid with a voice flying by to be lost 
on an endless sea — 
Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, 
to right the wrong— 
Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no 
lover of glory she : 
Give her the glory of going on, and still 

to be. 
The wages of sin is death : if the 
wages of Virtue be dust. 
Would she have heart to endure for 
the life of the worm and the fly ? 
She desires no isles of the blest, no 
quiet seats of the just. 
To rest in a golden grove, or to bask 
in a summer sky : 
Give her the wages of going on, and 
not to die. 



THE HIGHER PANTHEISM. 

The sun, tho moon, the stars, the seas, 
the hills and the plains — 

Are not these. O Soul, the Vision of 
Him v/ho reigns ? 

Is not the Vision He ? tho' Ho be not 
that which He tcevcL^'i 



-V 



HKDICATIOX. 



£«Ttb, these taltd (Un, 

body and lir*" 
ArtUiisjriwtflEii 



leiglib of 
eymbol ol Ihy 
irld lt> thee : tbyaelf i 



Clorr about tliee, wltbout (has ; mid 

than (niaileKt UiJ- duoin, 
Unking Uim liroken slecnu, uid & 



l-pleu 



r He Ilea 



bene In i 



FljiwUBin 
I plnck yoi 
Hold von 



Tlie 



iilleii . 



rolUna 






,f 



licrt-wt » 



nera when Ihef IiIML 



Clowr iB Ho than iireaiiit'iiE, irnil uei 

Ood iBlnw, say the vl9o;OSou1. 

let ua rejoice, 
For IF Ne thunder by law Uis Itiutider 

Isy^tHlsvolcfl. 
Law Ia fjod, Bar botob : r 

savB I^H fool : 
Brail wehn-aj. 

■tralgbt Btall 
And the enr ol 



lid flower— but if I couM under- 
lat ynu Bre, root and all, and sU In 
bould know what God and man Is. 

LITEKAKV SQUABBLES. 

r Gnd ! the potty fools of rhyme 
at shriek and sweat In riguiy wan 

_ -fore the stony laee of TInio. 

And look'd at b; the silent atais : 
Im liats each other for a song, 
III do their little best toblte 
I.I pliirU tbeiiretliren In the Ihfong, 
id scratch Ihf vety dead for splUi ; 

And stmin to maTte an Inch of r' 



DEDICATIOS. 
TBC9R 1o His Memory— Bltice lie ii 

PeicLaiu'e bb Anding there uim 

aclouBly 
Some irooge of lilm»alf— 






with Ml 



!e other 



1 Indeed He B 



ly own Ideal kniglil, 

WOB, iGdcesBlng hmsu 

Blander, no, not lUlc 

> only and who clati 

lealma to L 

gloom of lu 

The shadow of Ills Idei dtew 

eellpie. 
Darkening the wotld. "We hare 



111 It : 

Her-dver all whc 

last isle. 
Commingled with 



■Wo kim 



- him 



witO- 



Am aileut : and wo sgb Lii 

nuived. 
How DiodeBt, kindly, ail- 

With what BUbllme repression 

self. 

And In what llmlta. and how tendMlp; 
>;ot BwnylnjE 1.1 lilts tai'tioi. or loihril 
Sot makliig his high pla.ce Ibo Iswl 

Of wing'd ambiUoiis, nor & Tanta 

Forp^BBu^; bat thro' all IlilB tiMt 

■Weariug't^" liile tloi 



a and theirs and all thiugB 

le small tonch of Charily 
't Iheni nearer <)od-llke stiili 
the erowded Orb sliould .'ry 



In thatllerce light wlili:Ii beats uponi 

And blatkenB every blot : torwher* 

Who tiaiet forenhadow tor an ouly so 
A loTelier life, a. mora uiiatnlu'd, till 

hla? 
Or how Bhonld England 

IlDpe morH for these than 



her people and ' 
li dawD of BU UU| 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR, 



281 



Far-fiighted Bommoner of War and 
Waste 

To fruitful strifes and rivalries of 
peace — 

Sweet nature gilded by the gracious 
ffleam 

Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, 

Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince in- 
deed. 

Beyond all titles, and a household 
name. 

Hereafter, thro* all times, Albert the 
Good. 

Break not, O woman's-heart, but still 
endure ; 

Break not, for thou art Boyal, but en- 
dure, 

Bemembering all the beauty of that 
star 

Wbich shone so close beside Thee, that 
ye made 

One light together, but has past and 
leaves 

The Crown a lonely splendor. 

May all love, 
His love, tmseen but felt, overshadow 

'Xhee, 
Th6 love of all Thy sons encompass 

Thee. 
The love of all Thy daughters cherish 

Thee, 
The love of all Thy people comfort 

Thee, 
Till God'SL iove set Thee at his side 

again! 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

Leodogban, the King of Caraeliard, 
Had one fair daughter, and none other 

child ; 
And she was fairest of all flesh on 

earth, 
Guinevere, and in her his one delight. 

For many a petty king ere Arthur 

came 
Knled in this isle, and ever waging war 
Each upon other, wasted all the land ; 
And stUl from time to time the heathen 

host 
Swarm'd overseas, and harried what 

was left. 
And so there grew great tracts of wil- 
derness. 
Wherein the beast was ever more and 

more, 
Bat man was less and less, till Arthur 

came. 
For first Aurelius lived and fought and 

died. 
And after nim King Uiher fought and 

died, 
Bnt either f aiVd to make the kingdom 

one. 
And after these King Arthur for a 

space 



And thro' the puissance of his Table 

Round. 
Drew all their petty princedoms undei 

him. 
Their king and head, and made a realm, 

and reign'd. 

And thus the land of Cameliard was 

waste. 
Thick with wet woods, and many a 

beast therein, 
And none or few to scare or chase the 

beast; 
So that wild dog, and wolf and boat 

and bear 
Came night and day, and rooted in the 

fields, 
And wallowed in the gardens of the 

king. 
And ever and anon the wolf would 

steal 
The children and devour, but now and 

then, 
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her 

fierce teat 
To human sucklings ; and the children, 

housed 
In her foul den, there at their meat 

would growl, 
And mock their foster-mother on four 

feet. 
Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf- 
like men. 
Worse than the wolves. And King 

Leodogran 
Groan'd for the Roman legions here 

again, 
And Caesar's eagle : then his brother 

king, 
Rience, assail'd him : last a heathen 

horde, 
Reddenins the sun with smoke and 

earth with blood, 
And on the spike that split the moth- 
er's heart 
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, 

amazed, 
He knew not whither he should turn 

for aid. 

But— for he heard of Arthur newly 

crowii'd, 
Tho' not without an uproar made by 

those 
Who cried, *' He is not Uther's son "-— 

the king 
Sent to him, saying, <' Arise, and help 

us thou ! 
For here between the man and beast 

we die." 

And Arthur yet had done no deed of 

arms, 
But heard the call, and came : and 

Guinevere 
Stood by the castle walls to watch him 



pass; 
sir 



But since he neither wore on helm ox 

shield 
The golden symbol ol 'VAft'^Vii^giSkk*^^^ 



f 




kiilglit; 



THE C03IISG 

pla kiilgbt uiiioiij; his 

DC 'Uicwe in ricLier sttu* Oinn 

Bbsu>«Umuot,oriBB[k'd not, tt bLs 

One nniDiig nisny, tUo' lila fitca vat 

But ArtUur, looking dowanunl as lie 

Felt thollBht of lior oye« Into lili llto 

piu-b'.'l''" "'''' * ""'"" 
Hla tonta iKsLds Uie loicat. Aad lis 

Tlia liEniliuti. :iiiil ha ileiv tlie beBst, 
ami UWd 

inaa.i" 
BiDKd pnthwnyi lot ttie hoiitet Uiil 

Far while he Ilnger'd lliere. 



A doiiht tt 



: siuoulilotV 






FlnShM [iirtli autl Into irar : for most 

of Uieae 
Made Ueail sgnlust litm, Frying, " Who 

That be libonid tu16 n>? i<bo hath 

ptDTen Ulm, 
King Utbec'saou? tor la! we luokaC 

hlni 
And nml nor face nor bearing, UinhB 

Are like to tbOBS of UUier vboni iva 

knew. 
Tlib IB the son of GorloY^, not the 

Thli li tha ion of Anion, not the king." 
And Arlbar, paSBlngthenee to buttle, 
lelc 
TnvBll, and ibroeB and agonies ot the 

Deilring io ho Join'd wllh Guinevere ; 
AuU Ihliiklne as he rode, " Her father 

Bald 
TliBt tbeie hetveon the men and heaat 

Shalll not lift lier from Ibis land of 

Up to my throne, and Bide by aide wiih 

What linpplneBt <<i rclsn n lonoly king, 
Vext—O ye Blare Uiataliudderovei- inc. 

Vext wilt waste dreams? forsaTlng I 

be JoiiiM 
To her tlial 1b the fnl rest onder heaven , 
I Bsem on iioihing in the mighty world. 
And cniinot will my will, nor work my 

Wholly, iinr mnko myself In mine own 

Tlelor and lord. But were I Joli.'d 



OF AUTHUR. 

'Ibeii might we live together i 
LUdretmiiiig with cue will In , 
lave powor on Ihla dork bind to 
i.iid PJ'wer cni this dead world to 
And Arthur from the field ef 



Sayliit^ -H I li, aught have BBrrsl 
01 ve me thy dausbtei GulnevBrs 
Whom when ho heard, Irfodogran 

Debating— '• How ahould I that aai 

king, 
However ninchLKlmlpmefltmv nee 
OlvemyoiieilBUEhieraavingtoakbii 
And n king's sou "-lifted hU vdS 



A hoi 



Xm 



, hia chiunbeilalii, n 
tied all Ihinga, and of him tv 
Hifl counael ; " Kiiowest Ibon 



And each U twice an old m I : and iM 
Is Merlin, Uie vriBo man that f" 

Kltig LItliDi thro' hia magle art; ■ 

Ii hlerlln'H master (bo llicv call hi 

Bleyi-, 
Who iDURht hlia mngic ; but I 

Before the master, uid ao far, UiU 

Bleyg 
Laid magle by, and sat him down, kA 

All things and wliatsoever Mprl 

In one great annal-book, where aIK> 

Will leai "the secret of our AtlifOV 
birth." 
To whom the King Leodogran I 
"Oftfeiid, had Ibeen holpeo balli 



lua, and DnutlttB, and Bedlvere 

ben. when Iheycamo beron li 
tliokii.E»«bf. 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 



283 



And reason in Uie chase ; but where- 
fore now 

po these your lords stir up the heat of 
war. 

Some calling Arthur bom of GorloYs. 

Others of Anton? Tell me, ye your- 
selves 

Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's 
son?" 

And Ulflus and Brastias answer'd, 

«*Ay." 
Then Bedirere, the first of all his 

knights 
Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, 

spake — 
For bold in heart and act and word 

was he, 
Whenever slander breathed against 

the king— 

** Sir, there be many rumors on this 

head: 
For there be those who hate him in 

their hearts, 
Call him baseboru, and since his ways 

are sweet, 
And theirs are bestial, hold him less 

than man : 
And there be those who deem him 

more than man. 
And dream he dropl from heaven: but 

my belief 
In all this matter— so ye care to learn— 
Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's 

time 
The prince and warrior GorloYs, he 

that held 
Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea. 
Was wedded with a winsome wife, 

Ygerne : 
And daughters had she borne him, — 

one wliereof, 
Lot*s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bel- 

licent. 
Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved 
To Arthur,— but a sou she had not 

borne. 
And Uther cast upon her eyes of love : 
But she, a stainless wife to GoHcYb, 
So loathed the bright dishonor of his 

love. 
That GorloYs and Kiug Uther went to 

war: 
And overthrown was GorloYs and slain. 
Then Uther in his wrath and heat be- 
sieged 
A'genie within Tintagil, where her 

men, 
Seeing the mighty swarm about their 

walls. 
Left her and fled, and Uther entered 

in, 
And there was none to call to but him- 
self. 
80, compassed by the power of the 

king, 
EnforcM she was to wed him in her 

tears, 
. Aud with a shameful swiftness ; after- 
ward, 



Not many moons. King Uther died him- 
self, 
Moaniuff and walling for an heir to rule 
After hnn, lest the realm should go to 

wrack. 
And that same night, the night of the 

new year, 
By reason of the bitterness and grief 
That vext his mother, all before his 

time 
Was Arthur bom, and all as soon \\a 

born 
DeliverM at a secret postern gate 
To Merlin, to be holden far apart 
Until his nonr should come ; because 

the lords 
Of that tierce day were as the lords of 

this. 
Wild beasts, and surely would have 

torn the child 
Piecemeal among them, had they 

known ; for each 
But sought to rule for his own self and 

hand. 
And many hated Uther for the sake 
Of GorloYs. Wherefore Merlin took the 

child. 
And gave him to Sir Anton, an old 

knight 
And ancient friend of Uther ; and his 

wife 
Nursed the young prince, and rear'd 

him with her own ; 
And no man knew. And ever since 

the lords 
Have foughten like wild beasts among 

themselves. 
So that the realm has gone to wrack ; 

but now, 
This year, when Merlin (for his hour 

had come) 
Brought Arthur forth, and set him in 

the hall. 
Proclaiming, * Here Is Uther's heir, 

j-our king.' 
A hundred voices cried, <Away with 

him! 
No king of ours ! a son of GorloYs he. 
Or else the child of Anton, and no 

king. 
Or else baseboni.* Yet Merlin thro' 

his craft. 
And while the people clamor'd for a 

king, 
Had Arthur crown'd; but after, the 

great lords 
Banded, and so brake out in open 

war." 

Then while the Ling debated with 
liimsel f 

If Arthur were the child of shamef uU 
ness. 

Or born the son of GorloYs, after death, 

Or Uther's sun, and born before his 
time. 

Or whether there were truth in any- 
thing 

Said by these throe, there cduo \a 
CameliarOL) 




THE COmNG 

Wltb GMmtn «nd joiing SI odMd, her 
Loriwite.tlio'QuoanotOtkncj-, BbUI- 
Wlumi oabecould.notuhonould.tlia 
VaAe Icnat loi, ujlng, w Lbs; sat at 



"Adcu 






WHIR tram ArtliBc'g court 1 tMuk 
8a tew lilis kuiGbu. Iioootcc btavu Uie; 



Hith I" 



enow to beat his loei 



.11 tell 



" O Mne," she cried, " and I ■ 

Few, but bU hmrc, all n! one mind 

1 wiu iiuar'bim -when tlie wiyagfi 

Ot rtlier'a poeraga died, and Arlbui 

CrownMon the daft, ftiiillUairiHTiorK 

■ B« Ihuu iho king, ajid wo will work 

Uiywill 
Wbo lova Uiee.' Tben Uie king lii Ion 

—Id Biniplo wonia ot graaC Bulltfirlty. 
Boand Ibem by bo btralt vowa to LI: 

That wbcn Uic; rose, kuigbted from 

kueelbig. tome 
'WciB paloaB BCtbs ptueliiEOCa gboRt, 
" — 10 Hiwh'ii. and ouiera daied, as ouo 

nim nakoq 
Hair-bliiided at tha comiDg of a. ligbt. 

"BntwbenLa Bpakc andcbecc'dblB 

IVitli Xar^e divine and comfoitabte 

Bejond niylouEoa to tell tbee— t be- 

Frora eye lo cjB Ibro' al! Heir Order 



And ei 



.' tbo 



Uowi 



Id tlinae ar 



mUiecs 









P 



"And lliere I 



OF AiiTnun. 

And bandred wliitero an but M ItM 

Ot lojnl TMBalii toiling tor their U^. 

"And near liim itood tbe Ud; of 
IbeUOie, 
Vtho kuowa a, BUbtlci magic Itaanlili 

Clothed ill white BBmite, mytiic, kob- 

Oertul. 
She gavetbokiiiEblebuge ciotE-lilllal 

Whereby to" drive Oie bealben 






■I'd about her, Bi 

ilinigii wag bidden In the nltitttt 
_grooui i 
But ibcre was beard among liis bolf 

^"'f lhBwnlerB,for iiiedwelll 
kn lbs woTld, and Kb 

tHce lOllB. 

wer 1u walk Ibo wale 



That roes (rom oi 
And Attbui row'd 



: and e; 



le liNt 



Ttiat meii aru blinded bj it— o» 
OrBTen In'lba oldest tongue of all lHU 
• Take me.' but turn tbo blade iiaily°* 
Bpeicb je ipf* 
And tad w 



youradf. 






it, but 



d Iter 



Flama-color, lert and azure, In I 
One falling upon eacli of Ibree lAlr 
IVbo stood ill silence near bin Uiroue. 
Of Artbur, gnuing on blni, (ull, wltli 

bright 
Bweet faces, who wilt help 1dm Dt hl> 



"Si . 

'Tflko thou and 'Blrlke! the Unw 
Is yet far off." Bo tiiis greiu branil t 
Took, au'cP bj; this will beat bii tM» 

Thereat Leodogmn rc)ol««d, I 
thought 
To ■lEtblB douhLlnga to lbs last,) 

Filing tuli eyes of queitloD on ', 

■'The swallow and Ihe swift an n 



akin. 



to1o» 



H nugo Merlin, 



analiier of GorloVa and Tgerm I 



THE COMING OF ARTIIUn, 



235 






*' And therefore Arthur's sister/' ask*d 

the Kiuff. 
She aii8wer*d, ''These be secret things/* 

and sigii*d 
To those two sous to pass and let them 

be. 
And Gawain went, and breaking into 

song 
Sprang out, and foUowM by his flying 

Ilan like a colt, and leapt at all he saw: 
Bat Modred laid his ear beside the 

doors. 
And there half heard ; tho same that 

afterward 
Stmek for the throne, and striking 

iouiid hid doom. 

And then the Qneen ronde answer, 

" What know 1 ? 
For dark my mother was in eyes and 

hair, 
And dark in hair and eyes am I ; and 

dark 
Was GorloYs, yea and dark was Uthcr 

too, 
Wellnigh to blockncsc ; but this king 

is fair 
Beyond the race of Britons and of men. 
Moreover always in my mind I hear 
A cry from out the dawning of my life, 
A mother weeping and I hear her say, 
' O that ye had some brother, pretty 

one. 
To guard thee on the rough ways of the 

world.'" 

" Av," said the King, " and hear ye 
such a cry ? 
But when did Arthur chance upon thee 
lirst?" 

«*0 king!" she cried, **and I will 

tell thee true: 
Be found me first when yet a little 

maid: 
Beaten I had been for a little f nult 
Whereof I was not guilty ; and out I 

ran 
And flung myself down on a bank of 

heath. 
And hated this fair world and all 

therein, 
And wept, and wi8h*d that I were dead; 

and he — 
I know not whether of himself he 

came, 
Qr brought by Merlin, who, they say, 

can walk 
Unseen at pleasure— he was at my side. 
And spake sweet words, and comforted 

my lieart, 
Attd dried my tears, being a child with 

me. 
And many a time he came, and ever- 
more 
As I grew greater grew with me j and 

sad 
At times he seemM, and cad xdth him 

was I, 



Stern too at times, and then I loved 

him not. 
But sweet agidn, and then I loved him 

well. 
And now of late I see him less and 

less, 
But those first days had golden hours 

for me, 
For then I surely thought he would be 

king. 

" But let me tell thee now another 

tale: 
For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they 

say, 
Died but of late, and sent his cry to 

me, 
To hear him speak before he left his 

life. 
Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the 

mage, 
And when I entcr'd told me that him- 
self 
And Merlin ever served about tlie 

king, 
Uther, before he died, and on Uio 

night 
When Uther in Tintagil post away 
Moaning and wailing for an heir, tlie 

two 
Left the still king, and passing forth 

to breathe, 
Then f loni the castle gateway by the 

chasm 
Descending thro' the dismal night— a 

night 
In which the bounds of heaven and 

earth were loBt — 
Beheld, so high upon the dreary 

deeps 
It scem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape 

thereof 
A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to 

stern 
Bright with a shining people on the 

decks. 
And gone as soon as seen. And then 

the two 
Dropt to the cove, and watch'd tho 

great sea fall. 
Wave after wave, each mightier than 

the last, 
Till last, a ninth one, gathering half 

the deep 
And full of voices, slowly rose and 

plunged 
Boaring. and all the wave was in a 

flame : 
And down the wave and in the flame 

was borne 
A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's 

feet, 
Wlio stoont and cauglit the babe, and 

cried 'The Kiivg! 
Here is an hcii* for uther ! ' And tho 

fringe 
Of that gi-eat breaker, sweeping up the 

strand, 
Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the 

word. 



«p 





ehUd ftnd be wers clotbed 
nUj IhaiTifter follow'd 
111 tlilB aama 
oigiis ; i\or coulJ I port tn 
itw were Wld." And saying this 
Iks «tnll uiil dreadful pau 

and nak'd lilm If tbese IMngi 

werettutli— 
The ililiilug drafion and Uie naked 

clilld 
RMCBiicling In Ilia glorr of (He ten— 
Ho laugh'f a« It hli «oiil, and aiiswerM 

In riddling tTtpleU of old lime, nod 



TITE COJffNG OF ARTUUR. 

>pake aad King Leodogran n 






Doubted, and. drowsed, nodded ai 

Blapl, aiiil B«w. 
DreamiiiB, a ilopo of land Uiat i\ 

Field afuf Held, op to a beiglit, |] 

Hue-hidden, aud thereon a nltuilc 

king. 
Now looming, and now lost; and ■ 

The Bword rose, tlio hind feK, the 1>«4 

was driven. 
Filo gUropsed; ond all tlio Iftndfroi 

In ilriflB of utloke betorl a 

Stroam'd to the peak, and niinglal 

And mndfl it iliiokcr : while llw abi^ 

torn kins 
Sent out at time* BToifo; ondhtroM 

Slew on and liunil, crying. ■' I 
Ko Bon ol 'ether, and Ho ] 



And tnnh 1» thli lo mc. and Ihal l- 

And truth' or clothed or naked let 1 
be. 
Haii>. Bun. and ruin I and the fee 



From 



i¥lia kilo 






lo the great dee 



"SuMerllnridiUlnaanBBr'dme; but 
thou 
Feat not lo giro this kinethino oiily 

OuinevFre: sugrcut harda of him will 

Heieof let \ and dark Baying* (tom of 

KanglnE and ringing Uico' the niUiilB 

And Mhu'd 'by old folk beside lUelt 

For comfort after Iheit waso-wotk b 

Speak of I'ha king T ami JlerUu In our 

Hntb »pokeu «l«o, not in ]eet, and 

Tho'inen may woandWm that bo will 

not die. 
But pass, again to come ; and Uion ot 

TTtterly Bmite the heathon iindertool. 
Till tfteie and all men bail him for 
rlielrkln;." 



Tillw: 



ikhledre 



UlOus, B 
yei 
Then Arllinr charged bla mirlM 

And honor'd moat, Sic 1. 

ride forih 
And brine the Queen ;-« 

himlromtbeEatea 
'- ' ' — ■^tlot pBBt - 



flowf 






Ouit 



■ April) 

Among the aowDrs. in ^lay, w! 

To vrbom arrived, by Dubrio tho Id 

Chief of ihB church In Britain, and I 

fore 
The itatelleat ot bar altar-abrfoet, I 

ThatmornwaBmuvied, vhlleln t'.i 



vofa 



oWor 



leBB white, 
Tlio fair Iwgii.n 

lifknilbia """"' '""* """" 
SIooil mundbim, and re]nlelnc In 

1 holy nubile Bpn«d hii band* u 

BVliH, 



GAnETII AXD LYNETTE. 



m 



•■Reign re, nn«l live and love, ami 

make tlie world 
Other, and may thy Queen he one wilh 

thee, 
And all thin Order of thy Table Ilonnil 
Fullil the hoiuidless i>urpose of their 

king.'* 

Then at the marriage feast came in 

fromKomiV, ' 
The Biowly-fading mistress of the 

world,- 
Great lonls, who claimM the tribute as 

of yore. 
But Arthur spake, "Behold, for these 

have sworn 
To fight my wars, and worship mo their 

king ; 
The old order changeth, yielding place 

to new ; 
And we that light for our fair father 

Christ, 
Seeing that ye be grown too weak and 

old 
To drive the heathen from your Boman 

wall, 
No tribute will we pay : " so those 

great lords 
Brew b.ack in wrath:, and Arthur strove 

wit^ Rome 

And Arthur and his knighthoo<l for a 

Fpace 
Were all one will, and thro* that 

strength the kin^ 
Brew in the petty princedoms under 

him. 
Fought, and in twelve great battles 

overcanie 
The heathen hordes, and made a realm 

and reignM. 



GARETII AND LYNETTE.* 

VITn THIS POEM THE AUTHOU COX- 
CLUDES *'THE IDYLS OF THE KINO." 

The last tall son of Lot and Belli- 

cent. 
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful 

spring 
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted 

Pine 
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirl'd 

awny. 
"How he went down," said Gareth, 

" as a false knight 
Or evil king before my lance if lance 
Were nnno to use— O senseless catar- 
act. 
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy— 
And yet thou art but swollen with cold 

snows. 
And mine is living blood : thou dost 

His will, 

*Oa«btit followt Ti»K CoMixa or 
Arrnrn, and Tii« Last TouR.NAMtKT prc- 
c«de«Gt-iXBVEitif. 



The Maker*8, and not knowest, and I 

that kn<iw, 
Have strengih and wit, in my good 

mother's hall 
Linger with vacillating obedience, 
rrisonM, and kept and coax'd and 

whistled to — 
Since the gootl mother holds me still a 

Chi hi— 
Good mother is bad mother unto me ! 
A worse were better ; yet no worse 

would I . 
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put 

force 
To weary her ears with one continuous 

prayer. 
Until she let me fly diseased to sweep 
In ever-highering eagle-cnrcles up 
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence 

swoop 
Down iipon all things base, and dash 

them dead, 
A knight of Arthur, working out his 

will. 
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawaln, 

when he came 
With Modred hither in the summer- 
time, 
Ask'd me to tilt with him, the proven 

knight, 
Modred for want of worthier was the 

judge. 
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he 

said, 
* Thou hast half prcvailM against me, 

said so— he — * 

Tho* Modred biting his thin lips was 

mute. 
For he is always sullen : what care 

1?" 

And Gareth went, and hovering 

round her chair 
AskM, " Mother, tho' ye count me still 

the child, 
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?" 

She laughM, 
" Thou art but a wild-goose to question 

" Then, mother, and ye love the child,** 

he said, 
*' Being a goose and rather tame thau 

wild, 
Hear the child's story." "Yea, my 

well-beloved, 
An't were but of the goose and goldeu 

eggs." 

And Gareth answerM her with kind- 

ling eyes, 
" Nay, nay, good mother, but this egj 

of mine 
Was finer gold than any goose can lay; 
Bor this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid 
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a 

palm 
As glitters gilded in tijy Book oi 

Hours. 
And there was ever haunting round the 

palm 




GARETn jilVD LYNETTE. 

Sta; tbErerDretbol] 



1 cuuld oUmb and lay tnj baud 

1 were 1 "wenltMor Itmn n leatli ol 
kliijjB.- 
"" whon lie ie«cl>'il a liand to 

One, llini lud Iniedlilm from hiscMld- 
bood, rauifUt 
nilBUy'd liliii. ■Climb not lest tbon 

tliiirao tliea by luy' lore,' aiid eo tlio 

Smiel mother, neltberclomb, nor brake 



ro nbom tho m 
Kvuut nun, bad 
I glirafd, 



And Gar 

UiiU 
"Oold?M 

Uul Teiitu 



lU goldeu tisna 
ir'aiiernithkl 



I i ffold ?— ftjr ' 



I, ivUr 

sif Uie world 
ililug 1 ipakD 

More BOl'l— '"'' til!* waaalloliliatiruo 

Wbarmif tliej loraod tbo brand Elcal- 

16ur, 
AmlllgbtiilngspUj'od bIkiuC ItliitLo 

And all tUe llttlo Ennl noro nnrrlud at 

and clOBbiiiEi 1:1 



go." 






Ill BelllontbemDiin'd bersolF niid 
ealil, 
"Hut tbnu no pU; upon uiy loiieli- 

Ifl, wlieto Iby fatber Lot bosldo Tjn 

bear 111 
I.ie> like a V'S. and all but smoulder- d 

hen trail 
itbiui ii 

idAtttiiir gars Lhu bad 

■ BgeliaUielowlydroopt, c 



Liid b'llli Iby brslbruii i 

liall, 
Albeit iiultber lored i 



.E» 



a iaaoetDX, Vnt jc 

lOirest Hoser-atlie, not 






In tboe. 



■rtunulng abwl^i, mil 
FrlEbtK lo my heart ; but itay : : 
By these tall flraaud onr lastfaUlnj 

So make tby mniihood miglniec <1 

day ; 

Sweet IB tlio chase ; andlwillaeekUiM 
Souie tomlortable b 
Thy Lllmbire 1 

Tin filling liito ] 
I know not thee, 



■ and cherish n; 



Tho piiiicobia heir, wboutallandaiu- 

tlaeeatiie, 
Aslt'd for a bride ; and IberfniwD 

KjMff 

Set two beCere blni. One was h 



ileslted, 
1 Ibese we - 



one, good laek, lu b 



A Lhat olher, whoii 
ceii bride vlio hue' 



And one— they call'd 1 

one, O Motb«r. 
Uow can you keep me t 



on the ChrJit, 



GARETn AND LYXETTE. 



Or irlll not deem liim, wholly proven 

King— 
Albeit in mine own lieart I knew liim 

King, 
"When I was frequent with him in my 



youtli, 
h< " 



And heard him Kingly speak, and 

doubted him 
Ko more than he, himself ; but felt 

him mine, 
Of closest kin to me : yet— wilt thou 

leave 
Thine easeful biding here, and lisk 

thine all, 
Xife, limbs, for one that is not proven 

King? 
Stay, till the cloud that settles round 

his birth 
Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet 

sou." 

And Gareth answered quickly, " Not 

an hour, 
So that ye yield me— I will walk thro* 

fire, 
Mother, to gain it— your full leave to 

go. 
Not proven, who swept the dust of 

ruin'd Rome 
From off the threshold of tho realm, 

and crush'd 
The Idolaters, and made the people 

free? 
"Who should be King save him who 

makes udfree?" 

So when the Queen, who long had 

sought in vain 
To break him from the intent to which 

he grew, 
Found her son's will unwaveringly 

one, 
She answer'd oraftily, ** "Will ye walk 

thro' fire ? 
Who walks thro* fire \rill hardly heed 

the smoke. 
A go then, an ye must : only one 

proof. 
Before thou ask the King to make thee 

knight, 
Of thine obedience and thy love to me, 
Thy mother,— I demand.'* 

And Oareth cried, 
" A hard one, or a hundred, so I go. 
Kay — quick ! the proof to prove me to 
the quick I '^ 

But slowly spake the mother, look- 
ing at him, 

*' Prince, thou shalt go disguised to 
Arthur's hall, 

And hire thyself to serve for meats 
and drinks 

Among the scullions and the kitchen- 
knaves. 

And those that hand the dish across 
the bar. 

Kor Shalt thoa tell thy name to any 
one. 



280 

And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth 
and a day." 

For so the Queen believed that when 

her son 
Beheld his only way to glory leatl 
Low down thro' villaiu kitcheu-vassal- 

age. 
Her own true Gareth was tooprincely* 

proud 
To pass thereby ; so should ho rest 

with her, 
Closed in her castle from the sound of 

arms. 

Silent a while was Gareth, then 

replied, 
** The thrall in person may be free i:i 

soul. 
And I shall see tho jousts. Thy son 

am I, 
And since thou art my mother, must 

obey. 
I therefore yield me freely to thy will; 
For hence will I, dlsgui»ed, and hire 

myself 
To serve with scullions and with kitch- 
en-knaves ; 
Kor tell my name to any— no, not the 

King." 
Gareth awhile lin^er'd The mother's 

eye. 
Full of the wistful fear that ho would 

go. 
And turning toward him wheresoo'er 

he tum'd, 
Perplext his outward puriwse, till an 

hour, 
"WTien waken'd by the wind which with 

full voice 
Swept bellowing thro* the darkness on 

to dawn, 
He rose, and out of slumber calling two 
That still had tended on him from his 

birth, 
Before tho wakeful mother heard him, 

went. 

The three were clad like tillers of tho 
soil. 

Southward they set their faces. The 
birds made 

Melody on branch, and melody in mid- 
air. 

The damp hill-slopes were quicken'd 
into green, 

And the live green had kindled Into 
flowers, 

For it was past tho time of Easterday. 

, So, when their feet were planted on 

the plain 
That broaden'd toward the base of 

Camelot, 
Far off they saw the silver misty mom 
Boiling her smoke about tho Koyal 

mount. 
That rose between the forest and the 

field. 
At times the summit of the hish dtr 

Haah'd; 



■HP 



city liiKl 



340 

Al llTtiM tliaiplm I 

rrloVa tUro'Un ml 

On1y,?lmlo5ai°don" 

--'M. tlis wUole 111 

pear' J. 

Tben tlioia »ho went wltli GnrcUi 
wars iiniuBa, 
OiiacryliiE, "l^t uaeoiiDfHrUier. lord. 
^fte 1» B I'lty of Einlimitarji, buiU 
By fHiry King*," 'rlii) geeoud uoJio'il 

lnOrO. wolmvB honrd tcoiu oar wise 

I KortbwBtil, UinI UilB King is iioC 

Jt only clmiiKclIng nnt of Fairyland. 
bu dravo Uio lieftUieii lieiice by aor- 

nd Msrlln's b''"1"»"'.'" Then the 

tjinl. ITnTH ii no Buclielly anywhere. 



Willi \ 

1.0'*" wIli'iT.lil* princedom, j-oulh 

To plunge old ilcriin In the Atablau 

il'tliem all uiiwllliiig toward 

LB no gatQ lllia it under 



rroin 



i Willi V 



nr hue b 



right, 



il 



:t o{ liet, a 

D ATLliur'B vara In weird dccii 

' thliitn and old co-twiBtcd, aa 
Time 
Were iioUiliig, Ki tnTelBcalely, 11 

Wens olddT gaxing tliero ; and orer 
Hlall on UiB lolJ were Iliosa tli! 

Dtieena, the frlenrla 
DrAHlinr, nhoihouldlielEililnkat 



IbGnrei 



«lcrE« 



lis flenres, Ih&t at lai 
baashta and elvish embltiD- 
i^tMicDthc, twinoandc 
^ " lAoH, ths KSteiray Ii 



LmlGnrethllkewlBe 
So long, thnt ev'n to 1> 



m ft It 111* 



Fioni nut Ihcreuuder came ail Bnri 
Long-lJpBidEd. paylog, " TVho be j*, 

UiyBOHB!" 

Then Gareth. " TVe be tllleraotUW 
1 tunow coRi. 
IE : hut these, nj 
I ncirdly in Ihi 
Douht W'ibo King be King at all 
Iryland; »ud whether Uil 



ivlns Bliai 



The E'or 



And thers w 
hoaveu . 
Tot baiefoot on tho kcyatono, whicb 

And rippled Ulio an ovet-fleetlni! 

Lndy ofUio Lako 1 

Wept froni her Bides ae 

Bnt like tlio ccosslier great and goodly 

SUetdi'd under nil 
held : 



hull I 
By magie, and by lairy Kings and 

Or whether lli'arc bo any pltj lit ■ 
Or all a vision : and tula mUKie m 
Hath scared them lioth, but tel 
Uiesa Uio truth." 

Then Umt old Seer made a 



lUlp tail 



a la truth ; but nu it pi 
lu the ttum OB thou. hastWl 



Jkliaipld 



— ,. — „. latlisnlM 

tlinC hold 

The King nsbitdoir. and the dty raili 
Yut lake thou haeduf hlui, for, so IbW 

Denes th Ibis nrcliiray, tlicii nilt IbN 



GAnETJI AND LYNETTE. 



241 



▲ thrall to his encbantmeuts, for the 

King 
Will bind thee by sudi yows, as is a 

shame 
A man should not be bound by, yet the 

which 
Xo roan can keep ; but^ so thou dread 

to swear, 
Pass not beneath this gateway, but 

abide 
"Without, among the cattle of the field. 
For, an ye heard a music, like enow 
They are building still, seeing the city 

is built 

To music, therefore never built at all, 
■ Aud therefore built forever." 

Gareth spake 
AngerM, ** Old Master, reverence tiiiuo 

own beard 
That looks as white as utter truth, and 

seems 
Welluigli as long as thou art statured 

Ull ! 
Whyroockest thou the stranger that 

hsth been 
To thee fair-spoken ? " 

But the Seer replied, 
*' Know ye not then the Kiddling of 

the Kards ? 
■ Confusion, and illusion, and relation, 
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion ? ' 
1 mock thee not but as thou mockest 

ne. 
And all that see thee, for thou art not 

who 
Thou seemest, but I know thee who 

thou art. 
And now thou goest up to mock the 

King, 
Who cannot brook the shadow of any 

lie." 

Unmockingly the mocker ending 

here 
TuniM to the right, and past along the 

plain ; 
Wliom Gareth looking after said, '* My 

men, 
Onr one white lie sits like a little ghost 
Hereon the threshold of our enterprise, 
l^et love be blamed for it, not she, nor 

I : 
Well, we will make amends.*' 

With all good cheer 

He spake and laugh'd, then enter'd 
with his twain 

Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces, 

And stately, nch in emblem and the 
work 

Of ancient kings who did their days in 
stone: 

Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at Ar- 
thur's court, 

Knowing all arts, had touch'd, and 
everywhere 

At Arthurs ordinance,tipt with lessen- 
ing peak • 



And pinnacle, and had madeltspirs 

to heaven. 
And ever and anon a knight would 

pass 
Outward, or inward to the hall : his 

arms 
Clash'd ; and the sound was good to 

Gareth's ear. 
And out of bower and casement sbylj 

glanced 
Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars 

of love ; 
And all about a healthful people step! 
As in the presence of a gracious king. 

Then into hall Gareth ascending 

heard 
A voice, the voice of Arthur, and 

beheld 
Far over heads in that long-vaulted 

hall 
The splendor of the presence of the 

King 
Throned, and delivering doom — and 

look'd no more — 
But felt his young heart hammering 

in his ears, > 
And thought, ** For this half-shadow 

of alio 
The truthful King will doom me when 

I speak." 
Tet pressing on, tho' all in fear to find 
Sir Gawain or Sir Modred, saw nor one * 
Nor other, but in all the listening eyes 
Of those tall knights, that ranged 

about the throne. 
Clear honor shining like the dewy star 
Of dawn, and faith in their great King, 

with pure 
Affection, and the light of victory. 
And glory gaiu*d,aud evermore to gain. 

Then came a widow crying to the 
King, 

** A boon. Sir King ! Thy father, 
Uther. reft 

From my dead lord a field with vio- 
lence : 

For howsoe'er at first he proffer'd gold, 

Yet, for the field was pleasant iu our 
eyes. 

We yielded not ; and then he reft us 
of it 

Perforce, and left us neither gold nor 
field." 

Said Arthur. " Whether would ye? 

gold or field?" 
To whom the woman weeping, ** Nay, 

my lord. 
The field was pleasant iu my husband's 

eye." 

And Arthur, " Have thy pleasant 

field again. 
And thrice the gold forUther's use 

thereof, 
According to the years. No boon ia 

here. 
But justice, so thy say be proven trae» 



V 



CAnF.TIl .\NU LYNETTE. 



Aceur*e-1i who rreni lbs vrougs lili 
Wouia ilut^ lilDuelf u right I '■ 

And wL[l« Blia pn>t. 
Cume yet Btiothar widow crjiiiB ti. lilni 
" ' ' 1, Sir King I Iblne eiisniy, 

us own bind thou Blowpitmv 
ir lorO, 

louihi 
^EoliistfliBo, mnytuijlliounrrt basely 

J livid wlUi tbcse, uid loaUio to OBk 

llieo snglit. 
Yel lo I m; liiuband'a LrolliEr lind my 

Tlirnll'd in hli waWa, iiiid hatli aianei 



Kill Uid fuuUliIet.nudwrealc toe for 

lUJ «H1," 

'TUa^\ itrfxlfl ik coad knl^lit fnrwanl, 
•• A boon. Sir Kiiic I I urn bsrkii^s- 
Qlretne UirlghC lier wrons, luid Blay 
lenctma Sir Eay, tbescneinlinl, 

.. boon, Sir 'King 1 eT'n that thou 
grant licr iinne, 
Thb iiiler. that luith mock'd tbee in 

mil liiUI- 
KoiiB I or tho wholraome boon of gyre 
and gag." 
But Arlhttr, " Wo sit, King, lo holy 

Thro' ■llourrBBlin. Thewonuin loves 

Iier lord. 
Peace lotlies.womnn, wilh thylorei 

TbalilnB«it old had doom'd thae to 

AurolluB Em rya 'would haro acourged 

And Uthor allc tby toneue : hut cet 

't/ai: Ihnt roUEh humor of tho klnga q( 

Iletani upon ina I Thou that art her 

kin, 
Go likewtae; laj-blmluw and alay him 

ButbTliiEhlm hero, that I may Judge 
Ilia right, 

llieii. I'slieguilly, I'y that duaUileas 
■tl«il dlol" " ' 



Then catnG in ball Uw 
Mark, 

AnnmoofcTllMiTorint 
ThoCon.isU king. Inei 

'Wliat dauled all.aud Ebonsfai^SM 

A fleld of cliHrlook In the rci 



ThloSdomi he laid before tbB II10114 
3elivorlt.g, that Lia Lord, tlia n»t 

or having heard (bat Anburitfliil 


lad muds hia goodly 
ud, foASiaeif wn 


conaln.TrUtn^ 


--f^P^^ 







Soproy'd him wail to atiept tliii cl«* 

In Cokeu of true heart and leallj. 

Then Arthur cried lo rend thBclul^ 

111 pleiias, and ao cri>t 1[ on Iha Ixulk 
An oak-tree Buioulder'dthMS. "Hi, 

Eondly knight ! 
Wbatl ahal! the ahleldoC MaAKa^ 

For, midway dowu the liile ofttat 

long hall 
A atfltely liile.-whenor atone OK 

Soma hlazon'J. aoms but rarvou.Ml 

Bomo blank. 
There ran a treble ranee of a'MJ 

rfiiBlda,- ■* 

Rose, Bud hlKh-ardiing oTerhrow'dUia 

hearth. 
And utidei every ahield a kiilglit va , 

For this vtai' Arthur's custom In Ua 

hall : 
"When aoma goml knight bad don* mil 

Hit arma wero 'carren only; but « 

Ilia nnii^< were blaion'it alio; bat It 

The ahield waa blank and bare wllkaul 

Saving the name beneath ; and GuaUi 

The ahleld of Gawaln blaioii'd lUk 

audbrldit. 
And jMixIred's blank u death; una 

Arthur cried 
To rend the Elolh and caat it on til* 

bearth. 

" More llks an we lo reavo hliD ol 
Than nuike him knight becauM IBCB 



GARETH AND LYXETTE, 



243 



Tbe kings wo found, ye know we stay'd 
their hands 

From war among themselyes, but left 
them kings ; 

Of whom were any bounteous, merci- 
ful, 

Truth-speaking, brave, good livers, 
them we euroU'd 

Amous us, and they sit withiu our 
Hall, 

But Mark hath tamish'd the great 
name of king. 

As Mark would suUy the low state of 
churl : 

And, seeing he hatli sent us cloth of 
gold, 

KeturUy and meet, and hold him from 
our eyes, 

Liestwe should lap him up in cloth of 
lead, 

Silenced forever— craven— a man of 
plots 

Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside am- 
bushines— 

Kg fault of tbiue : let Kay, the senes- 
chal, 

liook to thy wants, and send thee satis- 
fied- 
Accursed, who strikes nor lets the 
hand be Keen ! " 

And many another suppliant crying 

came 
^Titli noise of ravage wrought by beast 

and man. 
And evermore a knight would ride 

away. 

Last Gareth leaning both hands 
heavily 

Down on the shoulders of the twain, 
his men, 

Approach'd between them toward the 
King, and ask'd, 

** A boon, Sir King (his voice was all 
ashamed), 

"For see ye not how weak and hun- 
ger worn 

I seem — leaning on these? grant mo 
to serve 

For meat and drink among thy kitchen- 
knaves 

A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek 
my name. 

Hereafter I wiU fight.*' 

To him the King, 
"A goodly youth and woi-th a goodlier 

boon r 
But an thou wilt no goodlier, then 

must Kay, 
The master ox the meats and drinks, 

be thine." 

He rose and past ; then Kay, a man 
of mien 

"Wan-sallow as the plant that feels it- 
self 

Boot-bitten by white lichen, 

** Lo ye now ! 
This fellow bath broken from some 
Abbey, where, 



Qod wot, ho had not beef and brewls 

enow, 
However that might chance 1 but an 

he. work, 
Like any pigeon wift I cram his crop. 
And sleeker shall he shine t^an any 

hog." 

Then Lancelot standing near, "Sir 

Seneschal, 
Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, 

and all the hounds ; 
A horse thou knowest, a man thou 

dost not know : 
Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair 

and fine, 
High nose, a nostril large and fine, 

and hands 
Largo, fair and fino !— Some young 

lad's mystery — 
But, or from sheepcot or king's hall, 

tho boy 
Is noble-natured. Treat him with all 

grace, 
Lest he should come to shame thy 

judging of him.'* 

Then Kay, *' What murmurest thou 

of mystery ? 
Think ye this fellow will poison the 

King's dish? 
Nay, for he spake too fool-like : mys- 
tery ! 
Tut, an the lad were noble, he had 

ask'd 
For horse and armor: fair and fine, 

forsooth I 
Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands ? but see 

thou to it 
That thine own fineness, Lancelot, 

some fine day 
XJndo ihee not— and leave my man to 



>f 



me. 

' So Gareth all for glory underwent 
The sooty yoke of kitchen vussalage ; 
Ate with young lads his i)ortiou by iho 

door. 
And couch'd at night with grimy 

kitchen-knaves. 
And Lancelot ever spake him pleas- 
antly, 
But Kay the seneschal who loved hlni 

not 
Would hustle and harry him, a:id 

labor him 
Beyond his comrade of the hearth, and 

set 
To turn the broach, draw water, or 

hew wood. 
Or grosser tasks ; and Gareth bow'd 

himself 
With all obedience to the King, and 

wrought 
All kind or service with a noble ease 
That graced tho lowliest act in doing 

it. 
And when the thralls had talk among 

themselves. 
And one would praise the love that 

linkt the King 



V 



i 



AtidLwiertot-liowllie KLij bail mtbiI 
■^ ■■!• Ilfo 

ll twiM, nnj Un.^»lot Olico lli« 

rw LiiKBlut wiiB the fint In Toucn*- 

But Arlliur inlBlitleat on tlie l>atl1e- 

■ glad. Or It ■ome dUicc 

th« wiuideTli'g tomler at 



Ou CMr<Knril'i lililioac 

A nak«il iNtbv, ol wlumi ibo PropUec 

" Ha iHUum lo Uie IbIb AtIIIou, 

Ho pwoe* «'»' W liMl'J i^J c»uuDt 

Quatli WM tlnJ. But It tUi^li tnlk 

TliBU would bfl whltlle raiil.l ns miy 
Inrk. 

irtil aonia oM roundelay, 
loua 

lIKt Uicy mock'il, Lut after, 
■retiM-Il'K" 



GAllETU AND LYNETTE. 

Tlili, QikTBth hssTlne fnm m iqak* 
of Lot 
With «f lioni lie used f o plaj tx taamiy 

^Yben both ware clitldrEn, and la 

lonely liBunt* 
Would ■ciaUU a. ragfed dtoI ou iba 

And BARh nt eilliec dash from ^itaei 

Stmme never madB Eirl redder Uun 

He ImiRli'il ; lie EprBng, " Out of the 

toot to PcUTa 



1 leap Iruni Satuii'a 

Theto news l<a mine, 
■ Kiug-s- 



DCiCi 



-in^''alone 



tlio city;" n-bereoB be 

liimall, '' 

"IbavoBtttgffer'dlliystronEGairaia 
For paBtima; yea, be said it: 
Make me tby knlglit — in secret! let 
Ba Idd^n, and s^ve me t<!e Bist qUOt, 
Like flaiue from asbes." 

Hero tlio Klnc'i calm m 




GARETH AND LYNETTE. 



245 



And the Ring— 
"•• But wherefore would ye men should 

wonder at you ! 
^*ay, rather for the sake of me, their 

King, 
^And the deed's sake my knighthood 

do the deedy 
'^lian to be noised of.*' 

Merrily Gareth ask'd, 
^ Have I not eam'd my cake in baking 

of it? 
Ijet be my name until I make my 

name I 
OCy deeds will speak : it is but for a 

day." 
So with a kindly hand on Gareth's 

arm 
Smiled the great King, and half-un- 

willingly 
liOTinff his lusty youthhood yielded to 

him. 
Then, after summoning Lxmcelot 

privily, 
** I haye given him the first quest : he 

is not proven. 
Look therefore when he calls for this 

inhaU, 
Thou get to horse and follow him far 

away. 
Cover the lions on thy shield, and see 
Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta'en 

nor slain." 

Then that same day there past into 
the hall 

A damsel'of high lineage, and a brow 

May-blossom, and a cheek of apple- 
blossom, 

Hawk-eyes ; and lightly was her slen- 
der nose 

Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower ; 

She into hall past with her page and 
cried, 

** O Kinff, for thou hast driven the foe 
without. 

See to the foe within ! bridge, ford, 
beset 

By bandits, every one that owns a 
tower 

The Lord for half a league. Why sit 
ye there V 

Rest would I not. Sir King, an I were 
king, 

Till ev'n the lonesthold were all as 
free 

From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar- 
cloth 

Prom that blest blood it is a sin to 
spill." 

"Comfort thyself," said Arthur, "I 

nor mine 
Rest: so my knighthood keep the 

vows Cbey swore. 
The wastest mobdaud of our realm 

shall be 
Safe, damsel, as the centre of this 

hall. 
What is thy name ? thy need?" 



** My name ? " she said— 

" Lynette my name ; noble ; my need, 
a knight 

To combat for my sister, Lyonors, 

A lady of high lineage, of great lands, 

And comely, yea, and comelier than 
myself. 

She lives in Castle Perilous : a river 

Runs in three loops alK>ut her living- 
place; 

And o*er it are three passings, and 
three knights 

Defend the passings, brethren, and tt 
fourth 

And of that four the mightiest, holdn 
her stay'd 

In her own castle and so besieges her 

To break her will, and make her wed 
with him : 

And but delays his purport till thou 
send 

To do the battle with him, thy chief 
man 

Sir Lancelot whom he trusts to over- 
throw. 

Then wed, with glory ; but she will 
not wed 

Save whom she loveth, or a holy life. 

Kow therefore have 1 come for Lance- 
lot." 

Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth 

ask'd, 
** Damsel, ye know this Order lives to 

crush 
All wrongers of the Realm. But say, 

these four. 
Who be they? What the fashion of 

the men?" 

"They be of foolish fashion, O Sir 

King, 
The fashion of that old knight-errantry 
Who lide abroad and do but what they 

will ; 
Courteous or bestial from the moment. 
Such as have nor law nor king; and 

three of these 
Proud in their fantasy call themselves 

the Day, 
Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and 

Evening-Star, 
Being strong fools ; and never a whit 

more wise 
The fourth, who alway rideth arm'd 

in black, 
A huge man-beast of boundless sav- 
agery. 
He names himself the Night and of- 

tener Death. 
And wears a helmet mounted with a 

skull 
And bears a skeleton figured on his 

arms. 
To show that who may slay or scape 

the three 
Slain by himself shall enter endless 

night. 
And all these four be fools, but mighty 

men. 



\ 



GARETH AND LTJVETTS. 



tIi«r«[oi« am I 



lor Lwioe- 



Uen 



It Sit Oarsth caira from nhere 
leail wiih klndliiie ejBi tbrrva the 
. boon. Sir King— tlila quest ! ' then 
f near him gcoBntiiB like a wounded 
ea.Ktiig.thoukuowBBitliy kitchen. 
And mighty thro' thy jaeUt and 

Tliy [iromlM, King," uul Attliui glaii- 

ciiig D.t him, 
Droneht doirii a momentary brow, 

" Hough, tudden, 
And pardoimble, worthv in hn knigbl— 
Qo Uieretote," uid all hearen wees 

auiazad. 

But on UiB damiel's rotehcad bIi 
pride, wrath. 
Blew the May-while : sho lifted e 



Then ere a man In 1 



oui, besi 
The Held at 



•• kllohaQ-kuuvo." 

It BftYellpoim range 



r?,.r" ' 



or leyi 

.ninri«e,Baiinno»BrutalnBn.lwcw<l. 
idilowu from Oili a lordly Blainyay 

Till loBt"fiiblo»liie treea and lops of 

And out by tLla main doorway paat the 
King. 

Hlsh tliat the lilgbeat-cre.ted helm 



uld rids 



trjned 
1 UBmsel In li 



and by tl' 



and o\\ 



bara a maiden shield, a eaiai 
Uiat held 
ThcLorse, tlie scear ; whtreaiSlii 

A cloBJi that dropt from coliar-bont 

A ilotli o't rougheatweb, and eai 



, ail IkhHI 



Duil-coutvd tliliigij. 

Their duBk-wiiiE , 

A Jewal'd iiacueSB, ere Iticypan i 

fly. ' "^ 

So Qareth eta he patted flaih'd 

in while he donn'd tbebelni,! 
. took the shield 
t mounted horse and ctosblaipc 
■i!gn\n 
— niietheu-d on a wlnily >1| 



. around liln 



With trenthnnt . 

■lowlY prest 
Tlio poopio, nud from onl of Uu 

The thralls in tlirong, aud Bfleini 

LuatlBr thBnauj, nnd whom theyemil 

Mounted in atms, lUrew up thdt 

bleu tlie King, and all hli le 



Aiidoi 



I of shouting Caret 



"»!". 



out ihe gi 

So Oareth pBattfllh joy; but «<i 

Fluckt from the cur he Bgbts with, < 

lool'd by fighting, folios™, beU|; 

owner, 'but tcmembet) alt, i 
growl a 
Bememberiug, so Sir Kay Imidt 

lof Carclhtthombl 

To harry and bustle. 

With horse and amis— i 

psBl Ills time— 
My tculUuii knave Tbrslls to ji 

For an yout fire Im low tb kindlalBl 



Ir Garelh atrode, and bbw without the 

doot 
Cing Arthur's gift, Ihe worth ot lialf a 

I warhorse of Hie liest , andneer it stood 



G ARETE AND LYNETTE, 



247 



Cmsed ! How the yillaln lifted up his 
yoice, 

Kor shamed to bawl himself a kitchen- 
knave. 

Tut : he was tame and meek enow with 
me, 

Till peacock'd up with Lancelot's uo- 
ticine. 

Well— 1 will after my loud knave, and 
leani 

Whether he know me for his master 



yet. 
)fi 



Ont of the smoke he came, and so my 

lance 
Hold, by God*s grace, he shall into the 

mire — 
Thence, if the King awaken from his 

craze, 
Into the smoke again.*' 

But Lancelot raid, 
" Kay, wherefore will ye go against 

the King, 
For that did never he whereon ye rail. 
Bat ever meekly served the King in 

thee? 
Abide : take counsel ; for this lad is 

great 
And lusty, and knowing both of lance 

and sword.*' 
" Tat, tell not me," said Kay, " ye are 

overfine 
To mar stout knaves with foolish cour- 
tesies." 
Then mounted, on thro* silent faces 

rode 
Down the slope city, and out beyond 

the gate. 

But by the field of tourney lingering 

yet 
Matter'd the damsel, *' Wherefore did 

the King 
Scorn me ? for» were Sir Lancelot lackt, 

at least 
He misht have yielded to me one of 

tnose 
Who tilt for lady's love and glory here, 
Bather than — O sweet heaven '.' O lie 

upon him — 
His kitchen-knave." 

To whom Sir Gareth drew 
(And there were none but few goodlier 

tiian he) 
Shining in arms, " Damsel, the quest 

is mine. 
Lead, and I follow." She thereat, as 

one 
That smells a f oul-flesh*d agaric in the 

holt, 
And deems it carrion of some woodland 

. thing. 
Or shrew, or weasel, nipt her slender 

nose 
With petulant thumb and finger shrill- 
ing, ** Hence ! 
Arold, thou smellest all of kitcheu- 

srease 
And look who comes behind," for 

tixere was Kay. 



♦* Knowest thou not me ? thy master 7 

I am Kay. 
We lack thee by the hearth." 

And Gareth to liim, 
" Master no more I too well I knovf 

thee, ay— 
The most ungentle knight in Arthur's 

hall." 
" Have at thee then,*' said Kay : they 



Shock'd, and Kay 
1 



Fell sjioulder-slipt, and Gareth cried 

again, 
" Lead, and I follow," and fast away 

she fied. 

But after sod and shingle ceased to 

fly 
Behind her, and the heart of her good 

horse 
Was nigh to burst with violence of the 

beat, 
Perforce she stay'd, and overtaken 

spoke. 

" What doest thou, scullion, in my 
fellowship ? 

Deem'st thou that I accept thee aught 
the more 

Or love thee better, that by some de- 
vice 

Full cowardly, or by mere unhappi- 
ness. 

Thou hast overthrown and slain thy 
master— thou !— 

Dish-washer and broach-turner, loon ! 
—tell me 

Thou smellest al! of kitchen as before." 

" Damsel," Sir Gareth answer'd gen- 
tly, ♦• say 

Whate'er ye will, but whatsoe'er yo 
say, 

I leave not till I finish this fair quest, 

Or die therefor." 

" Ay, wilt thou finish it ? 
Sweet lord, how like a noble knight ho 

talks! 
The listening rogue hath caught the 

manner of it. 
But, knave, anon thou shalt be met 

with, knave, 
And then by such a one that thou for 

nil 
The kitchen brewis that was ever supt 
Shall not once daro to look him in tho 

face.** 

** I shall assay," said Gareth with a 

smile 
That madden'd her, and away she 

flash'd again 
Down the long avenues of a boundless 

wood. 
And Gareth following was again bc- 

knaved. 

" Sir Kitchen-knavo, I have miss'd 
the only way 
Where Arthur's men are set along the 
wood; 






GARETH AKD lYXETTT. 



rh,»wkii 


nlC-.i » I 


uU of meret u 


« bou.tr 


lull., I ma 


TidoftbHlbUt 


BlrSculIi'o 
ngUt. mx" 


ly *«)•.- 


Ulll«tllBt.pitof 


Sa t\\\ 111 


ediuk lb 


t {dUow'iI ertn- 


K^P 


™«1S;.Kri 


er»ndr«Tll<.di 






Plying trciraoutofUi 

III Iha mere." 
Than GniBtH, ■■ Boui 



And wlmn the dsmwl s] 

uoualy, 
" Lend iind 1 lollow," 



brake a (ervfng- 
Q UltLclc wood , nnil 



" Folk 



■r,'?. 

PllK. 



ldl"l 



IlBpluiised:>»d there, l>lwl 

lilull the mere, 
Aud uil>T-tlil){h-deep III 1]i;)ruiil 

Batv Etx ml'l men halliig n nerontl 
A at'iiie nbout hib neu^, to droi 

Fled tliro' the pines; nndGBTBtli loosed 

From oH bis iiacl[,thBu in Uio mero 

lieelds 
Tumbled it; olUly bubbled up tlio 

Lost, Gnreth loosed hlB bonds and on 

free fi-ct 
Bel him, i 



HtallVB 



\rtbur 



" Well tl 



I'uitlft rr 






Una wreak'.i tbeniselves on i 

dause is tlieirn 
To bill* me, for my wont 1 

enteh my tblef , and tbeii 

wn hlin. and with a stone 
neclci 
And under IM> wnn water 



Andfslii would I rewanltheei 

fullj. 
Wlial goenlen will ;«?" 

Gueih rbmrrit (n^b 
>ns ! for the deed's oAo b*tg ] 

done the dssd, 
Ltennost obdlenre to Hie I....,, 
Hill ye yield thie duuicl biifeiH- 



Wben 



bellevi 



t iheB 



rajine, ■■ 



Broke from Lynelle, " Aj, Iml; of 
Aud IxT a, sort, t>dng Ajtbnr's kilihra 
But deem not 1 accept tboe augbl tit 

Scullion. foirnmiliieGhu'pljirlllillq 



Dowr 



spit 



avm fop 



11 liBd saolUirM 
Kay— for Ihon rnnellest of Uie UiitB 
Bot on tbU lord will jield oi lisriM- 

So she Bukc. A leasoe tieyDnil ilH 

Allinufu^-fslrmanor niuUHch, 
His towers where that day a fetsi Iw 

Held in biBh lull, aud luanya flu' 

left, ' 

Aud many a costly catc, nMnil U" 

And there the; plaiHHl i> peacoDli IbW 



Li mntliil* 
luld pant n* 



And jiray'd Ibe kluE 

To flRht the hrotbeiliood ot Dq t^ 

Tlie lust a monfter nnenbdmible . 
0[auysaveofldmforwb(nnli!tl1'i1- 
Suddenly ImwIs IMb trouUsss UliAW 

' The qucBt is mine i Ihy Wtcheltla*'' 

And misbt'y thro' tliyine«UaaJJllu» 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 



249 



Then Arthur all at once gone mad re- 
plies. 

* Go therefore/ and so gives the quest 
to him — 

Him—here— a villain litter to stick 
swine 

Than ride abroad redressing women's 
wronc, 

Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman.*' 

Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, 
the lord 
l^ow look'd at one and now at other, 

left 
The damsel by the peacock in his pride, 
And. seating Garetti at another board, 
Sat down beside him, ate and then be- 
gan. 

•* Friend, whether ye be kitchen- 
knave, or not, 

Or whether it be the maiden's fan- 
tasy. 

And whether she be mad, or else the 
King, 

Or both or neither, or thyself be mad, 

1 ask not : but thou stnkest a strong 
stroke. 

For Btrons thou art and goodly there- 
withal. 

And saver of my life ; and therefore 
now. 

For here be mighty men to joust with, 
weigh. 

Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel 
back 

To crave again Sir Lancelot of the 
King. 

Thy pardon ; I but speak for thine 
avail. 

The saver of my life." 

And Gareth said, 
** Full pardon, but 1 follow up iho 

quest. 
Despite of Day and Xight and Death 

and Hell.''* 

So when, next mom, the lord whoso 
life he saved 

Had, some brief space, convey'd them 
on their way 

And left them with God-speed, Sir Ga- 
reth spake, 

"Lead and 1 follow." Haughtily she 
replied, 

** I fly no more : I allow thee for an 

hour. 
Lion and stoat have isled together, 

knave, 
In time of flood. Xay, furthermore, 

roethinks 
Some nith is mine for thee. Back wilt 

thou, fool? 

For hard by here is one will over- 
throw 

And slay thee : then will I to court 
•gain, 

And shame the King for only yielding 
mo 



My champion from the ashes of his 
hearth." 

To whom Sir Gareth answered cour- 
teously, 

" Say thou thy say, and I will do my 
deed. 

Allow me for mine hour, and thou 
wilt find 

My fortunes all as fair as hers, who 
lay 

Among the ashes and wedded the 
King's son." 

Then to the shore of one of those 

long loops 
"Wherethro* the serpent river coil'd, 

they came. 
Kough-thicketed were the banks and 

steep ; the stream 
Full, narrow ; this a bridge of single 

arc 
Took at a leap ; and on the further 

side 
Arose a silk pavilion, gay with pold 
In streaks and rays, and all Leut-li!y 

in hue. 
Save that tho dome was purple, and 

above, 
Crimson, a slender banneret flutterirg. 
And there before the lawless warrior 

paced 
Unarm'd, and calling, "Damsel, 13 

this he, 
The champion ye have brought from 

Arthur's hall ? 
For whom we let thee pass." "Nay, 

nay," she said, 
" Sir Moming-Stur. The King In utter 

scorn 
Of thee and thy much folly hath sent 

thee here 
His kitchen-knave : and look thou to 

thyself : 
See that ho fall not on thee suddenly. 
And Blay thee unarm'd : he is nob 

knight but knave." 

Then nt his call, "O daughters of 

the Dawn. 
And servants of the Morning-Star, ap 

proach 
Arm me," from out the silken curtain- 
folds 
Barefooted and bareheaded three fair 

girls 
In gilt and rosy raiment came : their 

feet 
In dewy grasses glisten'd ; and the 

hair 
All over glanced with dewdrop or with 

gem 
Like sparkles in the stone Avantunne. 
These arm'd him in blue aims, and 

gave a shield 
Blue also, and thereon tho mondnK 

star. 
And Gareth silent gazed upon the 

knight. 
Who stood n moment, era his horse 

was \>rout^\xt.« 



f- 



\ 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 



251 



"Parables? Hear a parable of the 
knave 

When I was kitchen-knaye among the 
rest 

Fierce was the hearth, and one of my 
co-mates 

Own*d a rough- dog, to whom he cast 
his coat, 

' Guard it,* and there was none to med- 
dle with it. 

And such a coat art thou, and thee the 
King 

OftTC me to guard, and such a dog am 

^f 
To worry, and not to flee— and — 

knight or knave — 
The knave that doth thee service as 

full knight 
Is all as good, meseems, as any knight 



»goc 
Oiy 



Toward thy sister's freeing. 

"Ay, Sir Knave! 
At. knave, because thou strikest as a 

knight 
Being but knave, I hate thee all the 

more.'* 

** Fair damsel, ye should worship me 
the more. 
That, being but knave, I throw tliine 
enenues*'* 



ff 



•* Ay, ay," she said, " but thou shalt 
meet thy match.*' 

- So when they touched the second 

river-loop, 
Huge on a huge red horse, and all in 

mail 
Burnished to blinding, shone theKoon- 

day Sun 
Beyond a raging shallow. As if the 

flower, 
That blows a globe of after arrowlets. 
Ten thousan(^fold had grown, flash'd 

the fierce shield. 
All sun ; and Gareth's eyes had flying 

blots 
Before them when he tum'd from 

watching him. 
He from beyond the roaring shallow 

roar'd, 
•*What doest thou, brother, in my 

marches here ? '* 
And she athwart the shallow shrill'd 

again, 
*'Here is a kitchen-knave from Ar- 
thur's hall 
Hath overthrown thy brother, and 

hath his arms." 
* Ugh I " cried the Sun, and vizoring 

up a red 
And cipher face of rounded foolish- 
ness, 
Push'd horse across the foamings of 

the ford. 
Whom Gareth met midstream : no 

room was there 
For lance or toumev-skiU : four 

strokes thej ftnicii: 



With sword, and these were mighty : 

the new knight 
Had fear he might be shamed ; but as 

the Sun 
Heaved up a ponderous arm to strike 

the fifth. 
The hoof of his horse slipt in the 

stream, the stream 
Descended, and the Sun was wash'd 

away. 

Then Gareth laid his lance athwart 

the ford ; 
So drew him home ; but he that would 

not fight, 
As being all bone-battered on the rock. 
Yielded ; and Gareth sent him to the 

King. 
** Myself when I return will plead for 

thee. 
Lead, and I follow." Quietly she led. 
*'Hath not the eood wind, damsel, 

changed again ! " 
** Nay, not a point : nor art thou vic- 
tor here. 
There lies a ridge of slate across the 

ford; 
His horse thereon stumbled— ay, for I 

saw it. 

" * OSun* (not this strong fool whom 

thou, Sir Knave, 
Hast overthrown thro' mere unhappi- 

ness), 
' O Sun, that wakenest all to bliss or 

pain, 
O moon, that lay est all to sleep again. 
Shine sweetly : twice my love hath 

smiled on me.' 

" What knowest thou of lovesong or 

of love ? 
Nay, nay, God wot, so thou wert nobly 

born, 
Thou hast a pleasant presence. Yea, 

perchance, — 

<* * O dewy flowers that open to the 

sun, 
O dewy flowers that close when day is 

done. 
Blow sweetly: twice my love hath 

smiled on me.' 

" What knowest thou of flowers, qjt 
cept, belike, 

To garnish meats with ? hath not our 
good King 

Who lent me thee, the flower of kitch- 
endom, 

A foolish love for flowers ? what stick 
ye round 

The pasty? wherewithal deck the 
boar's head ? 

Flowers? nay, tlie boar hath rose- 
maries and bay. 

<^ ' O birds, that warble to the morn- 
ing sky, 
O birds that warble as the day goes by, 
Sing sweetly : twice th';) Vsn^ \AM2Kk 
smiled on me** 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 



"Whutlii 



llglit. 



It thou of biidB, iBik, 

le. 

LreAm ye wbcn Ihej 

lo gronlng wllU the growing 

BQiKworsliip ? UiOBebefoi 

n ruiiB thy lancy) Iheee be for thB 

ipit, 
itding mid hiuUng. See tbou bSTi 

kriiul diy last, except tboa turn sni 

cellar 

For there beyond a bridge Of treble 



PHvillan.tonliBgiiEzleddamMfltuil, 
And ann'd faim In oLd anuAi ud 

biought a helm 
With but a drjInR sierEreFn fmmiL 
And gave a shield wheteou UieEItigl 

'riilBh'd and halt-bright, hli 



diawD, and OTetltin* 



Deep-dimpled enrrentundBrnCttth, the 

knight. 
That named hlnwclf the Star of Evo 

uiug, Btood. 

And QBToth, 

D open dayaU 

. -ik«J 

Bklna 
That fit hliD like bis own -, and so ys 

UlB annor od him, these nlll turn the 

blade." 
Then tbe third brother ahonted o'er 

the bridge, 
" O brother-star, why ahlne ye hero bo 

Thy wiird la higher np ; but have ye 

The damsel's champion ? " ami the 



That aliln lator. sadder an beclM 
To war agaiiist ill uses of a UlB. 
But these from all his iifs artn,! 

"Thou haat made ni lords, ud Ml 

He balf despaini ; i 

Vainly, the daniBe 

lone, knaTe-knlghl.wentHU 

-,„ O good unicht-kiiaT* 
O knaye. as noble as auy < 

-nights— 



"No at 



r of til 



inAt- 



Before this yoath ; and so wilt ti 

Sir Star ; 
Alt Ihounotold?" 

"Old, damsel. oMnndh 
Old, with tbe ral^ht and broat 

d G^ictfi, "Ijid, and over-bol. 

t that same strength which tl 
the Momlng-Star 
Cod throw tbe Eveidng." 

Then that other 1 
A hard and deadly note u uon the h 



Shami 
BtrikflV 






. shame 



rlhy ot the Ti 

Ills arms are old, he trails lbs ki 

en'd sllln— 
Strike— strike— the wind wIU » 

clmnoo Bgsin," 
And Gareth hsariug eicr KroD| 

Aiidbevr'dgreat pieces of his mwru 

But lasb'il in Yoin agsiosE tl 

en'd skin. 
And could not wholly bring hlBiKsM 

Than 'lo^SoatLwesloms, rolUnglM* 

Idae. 

lliat Tides at na.1 



l"uilknt"^tllke, wrilhtJ U" 
blm.'tlli he fell, dsi 



UARETII AND LYNETTE. 



HaraljlT Fba ask'il blm, " Sban 



And overtlirower Irom bang V 
WlIU AwonliiHliaTODOtttTlnui 



Of olil King Lot Biiil goodQnecn CetU- 



I know not, all tliro' moro unhappi- 
DbyI™ And »onNSr7 and nnliapplnoan — 



Tbj manhood thro' tlint weari 

of UJiie. 
Won liwt tliou dauo; lur all ll 

■treani li f red. 
And IhDfl haal wieak'd hla JnitKe di 



And whan roTiled, hast ansnef'd on 

clouBly, 
And iniikcBl laeiry, iflieu oTRllirowft 



iSSbkS'" 



cint, aud all aa Elsd to llnd Uigq 

whiile, 
II thB day whdn ArUiur kHigLtod 

Jiiiu." 

in GaiTtli, " Thou— Laiioelot r— 



Tliattlirewme? A; 

nwr tlia iHiast 

Thy brethren ot ll 



Aud tli en It Ilea taruiui: to Vrai/Ji 
!iB tola 
Tlie talo of Qarotli, patuluitly A 

"Ay woll— ay well— for woi 

0( olliers.l« to foci oiie-a aelf. 
■ ll ia batd by, wH 



nako — wblcli 
1 seni'tLea doviu licfure a lesser 
med linil I been and end—O Lauce- 

lieVeat the m^den, petulant, 

y came ye not, nlieii call'd? and 

IB ye. not call'd? I gloried In my 

■Wlo Iwliig Bim tobnkod, would nai 

Coorteoua as any Itnlglit— but no 

B. and leaves mo fool'd 
1. 
ring wherefore plny'd 

And doubtFol vbelliGi; I aud mine bs 

Where abould ba tmth If not In Ar- 
thur's ball, 
In Arthur's preaenrie? Knight, knaye, 



e King'ti best irlsb. O damsel, 



Thrown have I heeu, nor oni 
TJelor from vuniulsli'd Isaues i 



Past Into sleep ; on vbom tlia m 
"Sound sleep be Ihlne I soand el 

TValio lui 

Lin 
Aaanvm 
s all dsy li 

child. 
And vext Ills day. hut blestef tin 

Good lord, bow swoetly Bmells IM 

honayauckle 
In thB huBh'd night, as 

Ot utt«r peace, aud lore, aud gmtki- 

hei 
allm. 
knaT_ 
Is knlabt anil i 

Else yon black felon hail not M oh 

To bring ibeo back to do Ibe buil* 

with blm. 
Tbus an ihou gocn. ha tilll Ogbt !><*■- 

VTiio doubts tbee Ticli 

knlght-knave 
Miss tbi> (uii flowd' of the aewmiilw' 



Said I 



eelot, 



GARETU AND LYNETTE. 



259 



Sffay know my shield. Let Gareth, an 
lie will, 

Cliange his for mine, and take my 
chaiger, fresh, 

Kot to be Bpiirr*d, loving the battle as 
well 

JiA be that rides him." ** Lancelot- 
like," she said, 

*' Courteous iu this, Lord Lancelot, as 
in all." 

And Gareth, wakening, fiercely 

clntch'd the shield ; 
" Bamp, ye lance-splintering lions, on 

whom all speaiti 
Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to 

roar! 
Xea, ramp and roar at leaving of your 

lord!— 
Care not, good beasts, so well I care 

you. 
O noble Lancelot, from my hold on 



for you. 
ble Lfl 
these 



Streams virtue— Are— thro* one that 

will not shame 
Xlven the shadow of Lancelot under 

shield. 
Hence: let us go." 

Silent the silent field 

They traversed. Arthur's harp thro* 
simimer-wan, 

Jn counter motion to the clouds, al- 
lured 

The glance of Gareth dreaming on his 
liege. 

Aatarshot: "Lo,"said Gareth, <<the 
foe falls ! '* 

An owl whoopt: "Hark the victor 
pealing there ! *' 

Suddenly she that rode upon his left 

Clung to the shield that Lancelot lent 
him, crying, 

** Yield, yield him this again : *tis he 
must fight : 

I curse the tongue that all thro* yester- 
day 

Aeyiled thee, and hath wrought on 
Lancelot now 

To lend thee horse and shield: won- 
ders ye have done ; 

Miracles ye cannot : here Is glory enow 

In having fiung the three : 1 see thee 
maim'd, 

Mangled : I swear thou canst not fling 
the fourth." 

**And wherefore, damsel? tell me 
all ye know. 

Te cannot scare me ; nor rough face, 
or voice. 

Brute bulk of limb, or boundless sav- 
agery 

Appall me from the quest.*' 

" Nay, Prince,** she cried, 
'*God wot, I never look*d upon the 

face, 
Seeing he never rides abroad by day ; 
Smt watch*d him have 1 like a phau- 

tompaas 



Chilling the night : nor haTC I heard 
the A'oice. 

Always he made his mouthpiece of a 
page 

Who came and went, and still rei>orted 
him 

As closing in himself the strength of 
ten, 

And when his anger tare him, massa- 
cring 

Man, woman, lad and girl— yea the 

soft babe- 
Some hold that he hath swallow*d in- 
fant flesh. 

Monster ! O prince, I went for Lance- 
lot first, 

The quest is Lancelot*s: give him 
back the shield.'* 

Said Gareth laughing, " An he fight 
for this. 
Belike he winn it as the better man : 
Thus— and not else '/ ** 



But Jjancelot on him urged 
All the devisings of their chivalry 
Where one might meet a mightier 

than himself ; 
How best to manage horse, lance, 

sword and shield, 
And so fill up the gap where force 

misht fail 
With skill and fineness. Instant were 

his words. 

Then Gareth, "Here be rules. I 

know but one — 
To dash against mine enemy and to 

win. 
Yet have I watch'd thee victor in the 

joust, 
And seen thy way.** " Heaven help 

thee," sigh'd Lynette. 

Then for a space, and under cloud 

that grew 
To thunder-eloom paling all stars, 

they rode 
In converse till she made her palfry 

halt. 
Lifted an arm, and softly whisper'd, 

"There." 
And all the thrae w^re silent seeing, 

pitch'd 
Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field, 
A huge pavilion like a mountain peak 
Sunder the glooming ciimson on the 

marge. 
Black, with black banner, and a long 

black horn 
Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth 

graspt. 
And so, before the two could hinder 

him. 
Sent all his heart and breath thro' all 

the horn. 
Echo'd the walls; a light twinkled; 

anon 
Came lights and lig,bls, aud on&^ icubiov 

he blew *. 



BC6 GERAINT 

Whereon wera boUow tntmplingB op 

And muBled yo\<sBS bESril, nnd ehBdoRB 

Till Ugh ubore him, clri'lnd with her 

The Lady LyonoM at n winrton- eliwri, 
Beautiful sinoug lights, oud waving lu 

"Whlta liand». nnd oourtesj ; but wUeo 

Thrafi UmeB hod lilown — nfter long 

hnah— At Inat — 
Tha huie paviliuii Blowly yieldad uji, 
Ttm' thoie black (oliliuE>> that wlilch 

bDiueil iliereiii. 
High oil ■ iiighCblack lion?, iniiigbt- 

TTlth whllfl bremt-boiie, aud baireii 

rlba of Unth, 
And crowii'd with fleableaa laugbtrr— 

flome ten rilfip»— 
Id Iho halMlebt— Ibro' tbe dim daviii 

-Bdvimced 
The inoiiMer, and then paueed, and 

BntGarBtb spake and all IndlgiuinllT, 
"Ifiiol, for tlioa bMl, niei. mj-, Ihu 

Canat llioa not tnisC the llmbB thy God 

liath glyen, 
Butmuat, to make tbe terror o[ Ihee 

Triek tliy«lf ont in ghnatly In 



witU, ni 



an lit I 



:?.«s"^ 



Am iC (or pity?" lint be apako no 
Which aet the horror higher: a mDldeii 
Hie l^y Lyoiiora vruug her Liantla and 
A9 dooin'd lo be Iho brids of Xlght and 
EIr Qaretta'aWad prickled beneath hla 
tbro' hla warm 
,nd all that nukrk'd bim vere 



helm: 
i BVii Sir 
blood fell 



At or 



At ones tbe blank bona bounded for- 

Then tbou tliat did not blink iUa ter- 

That Deaili wa« eaat lo ground, and 

But vlth one atroke Sir Garetli split 

Hie Bkull. 
Half fell to tight and half to left and 

Then irtlh a atroncec buffet be clore 

■he helm 
Aj thniughiT u 

(roiD this 




GERAINT AND ENID. 



257 



AfTfty'il And deek'd her, m fhe loyeliest, 
Kex% after her owu self, in all the 

court. 
And £uid loved the Queen, and with 

true heart 
Adorcid her, an the stateliest and the 

best 
Andloveliest of all women upon earth. 
And seeing them so tender and so 

close, 
Ixmg in their common love rejoiced 

Geraint. 
Bat when a rumor rose about the Queei^ 
Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, 
Tho' yet there lived no proof, nor yet 

washcMnd 
The world's loud whisper breaking 

into storm. 
Koi less Qeraint believed it ; and there 

fell 
A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, 
Tliro' that great tenderness for Guin- 
evere, 
Had su£Fer'd, or should suffer any 

taint 
In nature : wherefore going to the 

king. 
He made this pretext, that his prince- 

dom lav 
Close on the borders of a territory. 
Wherein were bandit eails, and caitiff 

kniglits. 
Assassins, and all fliers from the hand 
Of Justice, and whatever loathes a 

law : 
And tlierefore, till the king himself 

should please 
To cleanse tuis common sewer of all 

his realm, 
He craved a fair permission to depart. 
And there defend his marche^i ; and 

the kins 
Mnsed for a Uttle on his plea, but, last. 
Allowing it, the Pnuce and Enid 

rode, 
And fifty knights rode with them, to 

the shores 
Of Severn, and they past to their own 

land ; 
Where, thinking, that if ever yet was 

wife 
True to her lord, mine shall be so to 

me, 
Hecompass*d her with sweet observ- 
ances 
And worsliip, never leaving her, and 

grew 
Forgeuul of his promise to the king. 
Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt. 
Forgetful of the tilt and tournament. 
Forgetful of his glory and his name, 
Forgetful of his princedom and its 

cares. 
And this forgetfulness was hateful to 

her. 
And by and by the i>eople, when they 

met 
In twos and threes, or fuller companies, 
B«gaii to scoff and Jeer and babble of 

hiin 



As of a prince whose manhood was all 

gone. 
And molten down in mere nxorionS- 

ness. 
And this she gathered from the people's 

eyes : 
This too the woman who attired her 

head. 
To please her,dwelling on his boundless 

love. 
Told Enid, and they sadden'dher tho 

more : 
And day by day she thought to tell 

Geraint, 
But could not out of bashful delicacy ; 
While he that watch'd her sadden, was 

the more 
Suspicious that her nature had a taint. 

At last it chanced that on a summer 

morn 
(They sleeping each by either) the new 

sun 
Beat thro* the blindless casement of 

the room, 
And heated the strong warrior in his 

dreams ; 
Who. moving, cast the coverlet aside. 
And bared the knotted column of his 

throat, 
The massive square of his heroic 

breast, 
And arms on which the standing mus- 
cle sloped, 
As slopes a wild brook o'er a little 

stone, 
Running too vehemently to break upon 

it. 
And Enid woke and sat beside the 

couch, 
Admiring him, and thought within 

herself. 
Was ever man so grandly made as he ? 
Then, like a shadow, past the people's 

talk 
And accusation of nxoriouBnesn 
Across her ndnd, and bowing over 

him. 
Low to her own heart piteously she 

said : 

" O noble breast and all-puissant 

arms. 
Am I the cause, I the poor cause that' 

men 
Reproach you, saying all your force is 

gone? 
I am the cause because I dare not 

speak 
And tell him what I think and whi^ 

they say. 
And yet I hate that he should linger 

here : 
I cannot love my lord and not his 

name. 
Far liever had I gird his harness on 

him, 
And ride with him to battle tad stand 

And watch his mtghtful hand«8t||.kiu^ 
ereat blows 



7 




CEn.ilXT AXD EXID. 



t ultlffa Uid ftt TTOnger 
H botl«r' ware I laid In 



ot the I 
.he ilnik 



Ami dwlieu'il trom the hlghllghl iu lib 
lord tliio' mo Bboultl 

Ur maybe 'p'^i'™<l t° death bstore 
And yn not dare to toll lilm -whit I 

Ihlnli, 
And liow men >lu[ Idm, EaylnK all his 

!■ molted Into mere efferalnacj 7 
Hall InwBiiUy, liuU auiUlilj ilia 



Then Blielwtliciiiehtlierofalailcdtllk 
■ ' I"'' mantle Hilda f«-'~'—" 

n Blie kept Uiem 
-itly 
■\Vilh BoHpi ci aummer Isid belWHi 

took them, and (uraj'a hMitll 

ItemBmberlug when first he camem 



And all her 
t all hi>i']< 



na naked 
il bygreai 



n the 'WhltannUde to 



Taller than all his fellowi, t 



AnctKhentheQneenpeULlon'dforl 
m the bant. Bllo»-d It cully. 



Then tUo* be loved and x 

too much 
To dream she lonld ho guilty ot £oul 

Eight thio' hlB inantul breast darted 

That makea a man, tu lie 
of her 
ni he love« most, lonely and nila- 

lii Le hiiil'd his hnge Umbe o 

bed. 
And Bhook bli drowsy nqulro awake 

and fried, 
" My cbargur and her palfrey," then 

" I will lido forth into the wlldemes) 



Ihavc 



)' It Be 



s myaiiur 



ot tsll'n 10 



3Uld 



eC dreumii, and drcanihi| of 
:-t, and torgetf ul of thehuutt 



forded t'rt, mJ 

rlBlt.tWil 
1 bulUMKl 






galn'dtbe wcod ; 

Wsitliig to hear the houii 

A sadden Bonnd of hoofs, tor 

Geralnt, 
Late Hlso. wearing neither UonllDI- 

BoldBU-Wl"' 

deiilf ftBihing Ibto'tl 

Buhlud them, and bo gallop'il 

A purple Bcarf. at either mil »1 
There swung an apple of the 

Sway-d nitiud about him, u hsfiaiw'' 

Tojolnlhem, Glnnclne Ilka B dnGXi'' 

In eummer Biiil and BllkB ot holUlf- . 
Low bow'd the UJbuiary Pflnw. •". 



GERAJNT AND ENID. 



25S| 



Sweetly and Btatelily, and witli all 

' grace 
Of womanhood and queeuliood, an- 

Bwer'd liim : 
*<Late, late, Sir Prince/' she said, 

** later than we ! *' 
•* Yea, noble Queen," he answered, 

*' and so late 
That I but come like you to see the 

hunt, 
Kot join it.*' " Therefore wait with 

me," she said ; 
** For on this little knoll, if anywhere, 
There is good chance that we shall 

hear tlie hounds : 
Here often they break covert at our 

feet." 

*And while they listened for the dis- 
tant hunt, 
And chiefly for the baying of Cavall, 
King Arthur's hound of deepest mouth, 

there rode 
Full slowly by a knight, lady, and 

dwarf ; 
"Whereof the dwarf lagg*d latest, and 

the knight 
Had yisor up, and showM a youthful 

face, 
Imperious, and of haughtiest linea- 
ments. 
And Guinevere, not mindful of his 

f Ace 
In the king's hall, desired his name, 

and sent 
Her maiden to demand it of the dwarf; 
"Who being vicious, old, and irritable. 
And doubling all his master's vice of 

pride, 
Made answer sharply that she should 

not know. 
'' Then will I ask it of himself," she 

said. 
•* Nay, by my faith, thou shalt not," 

cried the dwarf ; 
** Thou art not worthy ev'n to speak 

of him ; " 
And when she put her horse toward 

the knight. 
Struck at her with his whip, and she 

retum'd 
Indignant to the Queen ; whereat 

Geralnt 
Exclaiming, '« Surely I will learn the 

name." 
Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask'd 

it of nun. 
Who answer'd as before ; and when 

the Prince 
Had put his horse in motion toward 

tho knight, 
Stmck at him with his whip, and cut 

his cheek. 
The Prince's blood spirted upon the 

scarf. 
Dyeing it ; and his quick, instinctive 

hand 
Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him : 
But he, from his exceeding manful- 

ness 



And pure nobility of temperament. 
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, re* 

frain'd 
From ev'n a word, and so returning 

said : 

*'l will avenge this insult, noble 

Queen, 
Done In your maiden's person to your^ 

self : 
And I will track this vermin to their 

earths : 
For tho' I ride nnarm'd, I do not doubt 
To find, at some place I shall come at» 

arms 
On loan, or else for pledge ; and, being 

found. 
Then will I fight him, and will "break 

his pride, 
And on the third day, will again bo 

here, 
So that I be not fall'n in fight. Fare- 
well." 

'* Farewell, fair Prince," answer'd 

the stately Queen. 
" Be prosperous in this journey, as in 

all ; 
And may ye light on all things that yo 

love, 
And live to wed with her whom first ye 

love : 
But ere ye wed with any, bring your 

bride. 
And I, were she the daughter of a king. 
Yea, tho* she were a beggar from the 

hedge. 
Will clothe her for her bridals like the 



>» 



sun. 

And Prince Geraint, now thinking 

that he heard 
The noble hart at bay, now the far 

horn, 
A little vext at losing of tho hunt, 
A little at the vile occasion, rode, 
By ups and downs, thro' many a grassy 

glade 
And valley, with flxt eye following the 

three. 
At last they issued from the world of 

wood. 
And climb'd upon a fair and even 

ridge, 
And show'd themselves ag.iinst the 

sky, and sank. 
And tliither came Geralnt, and under-^ 

neath 
Beheld tho long street of a little town 
In a long valley, on one pide whereof, 
"White from the mason's hand, a fort- 
ress rose ; 
And on one side a castle in decay. 
Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry 

ravine : 
And out of town and valley came a 

noise 
As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed 
Brawling, or like a clamor of the rooks 
At distance, ere they settle for tho 

night. 




GEItXINT AND ENID. 



And onvard to Uio fortreH 

Uiree, 
And eiiur'd, and irero loal bsl 

walls. 
■■So," tliought Oflminb, ■' 

trackMEtmlolilBenrHi. 

VdUnd every luwtal fall, uii 

Wu LamiiMSr laid to hoof, and 

bin 
And buMHna whlillo of tlie 70 

Hii muiier's armor ; anii nfsa 
Us nik'd, '• VI luu memiii tho U 

WIiD told Iiiiu, ■oouriiig all] 

■parnw-liawk I " 
Then riding cloae beliliid an 

■Wlio, BmilUn by the duety 

Vent ane&tlng undemDnlh a 

Ack'd TBt once tnore nbat mi 
hubbub here ? 

■Whoaiiiwer'dBrufllj,"CEhl 1 



liiiff furtberrmBtanarmorei 
th back tuni'U. aud bow'd abt 



It the 



Kol turning round, not- looklug at b 
"Friend, he that labon for the ■( 
(TBI little tloig for tdlaqaeBltonnnt. 



and pipe eii 






ir of the t 



■ing'd nolliinff 



' What ia It 



'Who nlpe of I 

Spoal.lf yetiB 
mad. 



}thlng b 



e hBcbDrago for the 
arms to Qght my 



e (orwonlwlili Uie helniet 
hand 

anaver'd, "Pardon me, 
ger knight : 



AniiB? tmthi I knnv net: all it 

Hacborago ? truth', gnod Iruli, I knni 

It moy be. at 'Earl TBior«, o'tr 111 

Yonder." He spokB and f ol! 10 irorl 

Then rode Geralnt, a UttleiplMntu 

Across tbo bridge Oiatspaan'd Iheiliy 

There muBliig snt the hwuT-liooafil 

(His drcBB' a anit of frajM magnlB- 

Onoe fit for feaalB of ceromonj) iqil 

"Whither,' fair son?" to whom flt 

" O Iriand. I^seek a hnrbomgB fwlln 

ThenYnioI, " Enter tlierefon and t«^ 

Tlie Blender entertainment of abnini 
Oiico rieh, now iioor, but efer Oj»n- 

" Thanks, vonerabla friend," lepllol 



WlUiAMlhei 
Then algh'd ai 






headed Ear] , 



'Oravcr cauie IMH 

To enrse this hedgerow thlaf, the ip»f 

Bnttn. go In- foraars TouneltiledK* 

it. 
■Wowlllnnt tODch npon him m'n ' 

Then rede Geralnt Into the cw' 

His charger trampling many a pricW* 

Of spmntcd thistle on tho brolEf 

He livik'd and saw that all va* ro^ 

Here stood adiatlet'd nrvliiray p]an~^ 

And bote liad (alrn a great part u;^ 

■Whole, llke'a crag tliat tumblusfr.— 

And like a crag «aa gay nith wildtf 

And high above a pEcre of (arret ttt^M 

W-morroff Claapt ihe gray valla iPilh hatf 
icantly time tor half Ihe [ And snek'd t)ie jidnfng of the lUK^^ 



GERAINT AND ENID, 



261 



A knot, beneath f of snakes, aloft, a 
grove. 

And while he W2iited in the castle 

court, 
The Toice of Enid, YnioPs daughter, 

rang: 
Clear thro* the open casement of the 

Hall, 
Singing ; and as the sweet Toice of a 



bird. 






Heard by the lander in a lonely isle, 
Moves him to think what kind of bird 

it is 
That sings so delicately clear, and 

make 
Conjecture of the plumage and the 

form; 
80 the sweet voice of Enid moved Ge- 

raint ; 
And made him like a man abroad at 

mom 
When first the liquid note beloved of 

men 
Comes flying over many a windy wave 
To Britain, and in April suddenly 
Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with 

green and red, 
And he suspends his converse with a 

friend. 
Or it may be the labor of his hands. 
To think or say, ** there is the nightin- 
gale ; " 
So fared it with Geraint, who thought 

and said, 
** Here, by God's grace, is the one voice 

for me." 

It chanced the song that Enid sang 
was one 
Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid 
sang: 

** Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and 

lower the proud ; 
Turn thy wild wheel thro* sunshine, 

storm, and cloud ; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love 

nor hate. 

«* Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with 

smile or frown; 
With that wild wheel we go not up or 

down ; 
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are 

great. 

*< Smile and we smile, the lords of 

manv lands ; 
Frown ana we smile, the lords of our 

own hands ; 
For man is man and master of his fate. 

'•Turn turn thy wheel above the 

staring crowd ; 
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the 

cloud ; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love 

nor hate.*' 

•* Hark, by the bird's song you may 
learn the nest" 



Said Yniol ; ** Enter quickly." Entei^ 

ing then. 
Right o^er a mount of newly-fallen 

stones. 
The dusky rafter'd many-cobwcb*d 

Hall. 
He found an ancient dame in dim bro- 
cade ; 
And near her, like a blossom vermeil 

white. 
That lightly breaks a faded flower 

sheath. 
Moved the fair Enid, all in fade<l silk. 
Her daughter. In a moment thought 

Geraint, 
" Here by God's rood is the one maid 

for me." 
But none spake word except the hoary 

Earl : 
*' Enid, the good knight's horse stands 

in the court ; 
Take him to stall, and give him com, 

and then 
Go to the town and buy us flesh and 

wine ; 
And we will make us merry as we may. 
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are 

great." 

He spake : the Prince, as Enid past 

him, fain 
To follow, strode a stride, but Tniol 

caught 
His purple scarf, and held, and said 

" Forbear ! 
Rest ! the good house, tho* ruin'd, O 

my Son, 
Endures not that her guest should 

serve himself." 
And reverencing the custom of the 

house 
Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore. 

So Enid took his charger to the stall ; 
And after went her way across the 

bridge. 
And reach'd the t6wn, and while the 

Prince and Earl 
Tet spoke together, came again with 

one, 
A youth, that following with a costrel 

bore 
The means of goodly welcome, flesh 

and wine. 
And Enid brought sweet cakes to make 

them cheer. 
And in her veil enfolded, manchet 

bread. 
And then, because their hall must also 

serve 
For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread 

the board. 
And stood behind, and waited on th« 

three. 
And seeing her so sweet and seivice- 

able, 
Geraint had longing in him evermore 
To stoop and kiss the tender little 

thumb. 
That crost tno trencher as she laid il ' 

down : 



\ 



OERAINT AND ENID, 



i&i 



tn next day's tonmey I may break his 
j)ride." 

And Yniol answer*d "Arms, indeed^ 
but old 

And rusty, old and rusty, Prince Qe- 
raint, 

Are mine, and therefore at your ask- 
ing, yours. • 

But in this tournament can no man 
Ult, 

Except the lady he loves best be there. 

Two forks are tixt into the meadow 
ground, 

And over these is laid a silver wand,. 

And over that is placed the sparrow- 
hawk, 

The prize of beauty for the fairest 
tliere. 

And thi9, what knight soever be in 
field 

Lays claim to for the lady at his side. 

And tilts wilh my good nephew there- 
ui)on, 

Who being apt at arms and big of bone 

Has ever won it for the lady with him. 

And toppling over all antagonism 

Has eam'd himself the name of spar- 
row-hawk. 

But you, that have no lady, cannot 
flght.^' 



»» 



To whom Oeraint with eyes all bright 

replied, 
Leaning a little toward him, <*Your 

leave ! 
Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host, 
For this dear child, because I never 

saw, 
Tho' having seen all beauties of our 

time, 
Kor can s^e elsewhere, anything so 

fair. 
And if I fall her name will yet remain 
Untarnished as before ; but if I live, 
So aid me Heaven when at mine utter- 
most, 
As I will make her truly my true 

wife." 

' Then, howsoever patient, Yniol*s 
heart 

Danced in his bosom, seeing better 
days. 

And looking round he saw not Enid 
there, , 

(Who hearing her own name had slipt 
away) 

But that old dame, to whom full ten- 
derly 

And fondling all her hand in his he 
said, 

*' Mother, a maiden is a tender thing. 

And best by her that bore her under- 
stood. 

Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest 

Tell her, and prove her heart toward 
the Prince." 

So spake the kindly-hearted Earl, 
and she 



With frequent smile and nod departing 

found. 
Half disarray'd as to her rest, the girl ; 
Whom first she kiss'd on either cheek* 

aud then 
On either shining shoulder laid a hand. 
And kept her on and gazed upon her 

face. 
And told her all their converse in the 

hall. 
Proving her heart : but never light and 

shade 
Coursed one another more on open 

ground 
Beneath a troubled heaven, than red 

and pale 
Across the face of Enid hearing her ; 
While slowly falling as a scale tliat 

falls. 
When weight is added only grain by 

grain. 
Sank iier sweet head upon her gentle 

breast ; 
Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a 

word, 
Kapt in the fear and in the wonder of 

it; 
So moving without answer to her rest 
She found no rest, and ever fail'dto 

draw 
The quiet night into her blood, but lay 
Contemplating her own unworthiness; 
And when the pale and bloodless east . 

began 
To quicken to the sun, arose, and 

raised 
Her mother too, and hand in hand they 

moved 
Down to the meadow where the jousts 

were held, 
And waited there for Yniol and Ge- 

raint. 

And thither came the twain, and 

when Geraint 
Beheld her first in field, nwaitinc him,^ 
He felt, were she the prize of bodily 

force, 
Himself beyond the rest pushing could 

move 
The chair of Idris. Yniol's rusted arms 
Were on his princely pereou, but thi-o* " 

these 
Princelike his bearing, shone ; and ci> 

rant knights 
And ladies came, and by and by the 

town 
Flowed in, and settling circled all the 

lists. 
And there they flxt the forks into the 

ground, 
And over these they placed a silver 

wand 
And over that a golden sparrow-hawk. 
Then Yniol's nephew, after trumpet 

blown, 
Spake to the lady with him and pro- 

claim'd. 
" Advance and take as fairest of tha 

fair. 



T 



V 



284 GERAINT 

Tot I these two yean pail Lavo nou it 
The iHiiB ot beauty." Loudly apako 

"Forbew: Oieri ia a notthler," ami 

tbe ItnlgliC 
TTlth Boine BDrpHse and thrico as much 

diadajii 
Tam'd. Biiiil beheld the four, and all 

hlB face 
Olow'd likB the heart of a. aroBt flio iit 

Yule, 
So bamt be iraa with paHlon .piling ont. 
'' l>u battle fur It Ihiiii/'uomurei aud 

They elaali'd together, and tbrica Ihoy 

Then each, lishoned nud drawing, 

laab'd at each 
So often and wllh suck blows, lliat all 

Wonder'd, >nd now and then from dia- 

There came a clapping aa of phantom 

So twice they fonght, and twice they 

breathed, and all 11 
Ths dew of their great labor, and the 

blood 
or their Btrong bodiea, flowing, dmin'd 

But elther'a fu'rce waa luatch'J till 

Inlora cry. 
" Itemember tliat great Inault done the 



blade 



Lloft, 



3 heav 



helmet Uico', and bit 

And tell'd him, and aet foot upon hie 

And Bald, "iliy name?" To whom the 

Made anawer, grasDing, "Edyru, aon 

Aabamed am I that I aliould tell It 

MyprldelabKAen! moDbsTeaeenmy 

"Then, EJyni, aon of Nnild," replied 

"Theae two Ihlnn ahalt thou do, or 

clue thou dieet. 
Flnt, thou Ihyaelt, thy lady, and tby 

Shalt ride lo Arthur's court.and being 



Andaliallsbldo her Judgment, on it; 

Thou ahalt glTe back their earldom lo 

thy LTn. 
Tbne two tliinEa ahalt thou do, or Iboa 

ahalt die >■ 
And Edrm anawer'd, "These things 

will I do. 
Fori liavc never yet been OTerlhrown, 
And Lbou liaal otenhrowu me, uid my 



AND ENID. 






And rising 


wn.forl 
up, he 


:nlit>ee> 

rode t 


o^ii&ul-i 


And there 
easUy 

Hisorimeo 


the Qb 

trattpr 


cen fo 
slowly 


rgara him 
nged. and 
drewUm- 


Bright f.om 


hia old dark life, aud fell 


m tbe.grea 


t batll 


fIghCi 


E for Uw 



But when the third day rroiu Um 

Made a low splendor in the world, and 

Morerill^er ivy, Enid, for fhe lay 
WItJi her fair head in the dlm-yiillaw 

light, 
AmoniE the dancIniF ahadowa of the 

Birds, 
Woke snil lielhought her of ber prom- 
No later than loat ore to PiliieD Q*- 
So bent be aeem'd on going tba Ibiid 
Ho wouhl not leave her, llll lior prom- 
Ta lide witii him thla morning to iIm 



LtelyOUEfli 



And 

And there' 

At tbis she casl 

And ttougtt it 



laile known 1 



lh«^ 



For 08 aleaf in mid-XoTamber la 
Td nhnt it wan In nilitOrtober, aei 
Tbo drcBB that now abe look'd o 

She look'ilon ere tbo coming oE 



ange bright and dreadful 



] softly to ht 
aaitl: 



''This noble princa who mui ow 
^a aplendld in hia acta and his atUra. 



Bnt being ao beluilden to the Prince, 
H wore but little grace in any of ua. 
Bant as he leem'd on going tUi lUld 

Myaolf would work eyo dim, asd Sir 



GERAINT AND ENID. 



M 



JTar liefef than so much discredit 
him." 

And Enid fell in longing for a dress 
All brancli*d and flowered with gold> a 

costly gift 
Of her good mother, given her on the 

night 
Before her birthdaji three sad years 



ago, 
Tdahi 



That nigbt of fire, when Edym sack'd 

their house, 
And scattered all they had to all the 

winds: 
For while the mother show'd it, and 

the two 
Were turning and admiring it, the work 
To both appeared so costly, rose a cry 
That Edym's men were on them, and 

they fled 
With little save the jewels they had on, 
"Which beinff sold and sold had bought 

them bread : 
And Edym's men had caught them in 

their flight. 
And placed them in this ruin; and 

she wish'd 
The Prince had found her in her an- 
cient home ; 
Then let her fancy flit across the post, 
And roam the goodly places that she 

knew ; 
And last bethought her how she used 

to watch, 
Near that old home, a pool of golden 

carp; 
And one was patched and blurr'd and 

lustreless 
Among his burnish'd brethren of the 

pool ; 
And half asleep she made comparison 
Of that and these to her own faded 

self 
And the gay court, and fell asleep 

again ; 
And dreamt herself was such a faded 

form 
Among her bumish'd sisters of the 

I>ool ; 
Bat this was in the garden of a king ; 
And tho* she lay dark in the pool, she 

knew 
That all was bright ; that all about 

were birds 
Of sunny plume in gilded trellis- 
work ; 
That all the turf was rich in plots that 

looked 
Each like a garnet or a turkis in it ; 
A»d lords and ladies of the high court 

went 
In silver tissue talking thines of state; 
And children of the king m cloth of 

gold 
Glanced at the doors or gambol'd down 

the walks ; 
And while she thought ** they will not 

see me," came 
A statelv queen whose name was 

Gumevere» 



And all the children in their cloth of 

gold 
Ban to her, crying, ** if we have fish at 

all 
Let th^m be gold ; and charge the gar* 

deners now 
To pick the faded creature from the 

pool. 
And cast it on the mixen that it die." 
And therewithal one came and seized 

on her, 
And Enid started waking, with her 

heart 
All overshadowed by the foolish dream. 
And lo ! it was her mother grasping 

her 
To get her well awake ; and in her 

hand 
A suit of bright apparel, which sha 

laid 
Flat on the couch, and spoke exult- 

ingly ; 

" See here, my child, how fresh the 

colors look, 
How fast they hold like colors of a 

shell 
That keeps the wear and polish of the 

wave. 
Why not? it never yet was worn, I 

trow: 
Look on it, child, and tell me if ye 

know it." 

And Enid look*d, but all confused at 

first. 
Could scarce divide it from her foolish 

dream : 
Then suddenly she knew it and re- 
joiced. 
And answerM, '* Yea, I know it ; your 

good gift. 
So sadly lost on that unhappy night ; 
Your own good gift ! " ** Yea, surely," 

said the dame, 
"And gladly given again this happy 

mom. 
For when the jousts were ended yes- 
terday, 
Went Yniol thro* the town, and every 

where 
He found the sack and plunder of our 

house 
All scattered thro' the houses of the 

town; 
And gave command that all which 

once was ours, 
Should now be ours again : and yester> 

eve. 
While you were talking sweetly with 

your Prince 
Came one with this and laid it in my 

hand, 
For love or fear, or seeking favor of U8| 
Because we have our earldom back 

again. 
And yester-eve I would not tell you of 

it. 
But kept it for a sweet surpri^ «l 
mom* 



Yetn tnilTl* It not mveet BUTprlse? 
For I mynBlf usiwlllluglr liare worn 
Uf Imlwl suit, as you, my chili, Iibti 



WlUi •loio of ridi appttril, aumptuoiw 

And page, and maid, and squire, luid 

PDBlime bolh ot lui«k uid bouud, 
and all 

anil liu biought ms to a goodly 

But Bliicu our loituno silub tiom bud to 

*bBde, 
And all tliro' that young traitor, 



»d 



tr tliDi 



tlotlie yuuraeU In this, that botl« 
flta 

Oar mended fortuuoa and a Prince' 
brido: 
Uio' ye won the prize ot tolrei 

And Uio' I heard !''"■ cull you Eaire; 



Letnc 



fair, 



aalden tl 



Sbel. noCfaiiei 

old. 

id should * 






!r fair. 






like » DUidmaii brought her to Ihi 

Then were ye shamed, and, irorsc 
migiit ahama tlio Priiico 

To whaui va Bn beboldeu ; but 
know, 

■Wlian 107 "^ar child is set forth at he 

TliBl nti^er court nor country, Iht 

Uiey Bouglit 
Thro' all tho proylnces like those c 

old 
ThatllEhtod on Quean Estlicr, liasht 

Hera coaaad the kindly mother oi 
of hrealli ; 
And Enid lieteu'd brightening aa el 

Then, at Uie nblts and glittering sti 

PuU from a bank ot enow, and by at 

Slips Into golden cloud, the mald< 

Aadlelt ' 



AND ENID. 

sTer yet had seen her half M 

iiir: 

dl'd her like Uiat maiden in the 

Gwydlrm made by glamotu oot 

than the bride of CbssI- 

"' tirst" 
iJiTBded Britain, [" but wa beat him 

Aa this great prince iDvaded ni, uid 

Not beat liim back, hnt vrelcomed hini 

And 1 can acarcBly ride with jou lo 

Foroldnni'l, and roueb the irayiaod 

But Yniol'goeB, and I foil ott shall 

Clolheif with ray gift, aud (jayainom 

But while Ilia irosien thni reJoicoJ. 

Wol!o Vfliero he alapt in Ilia blgh liall, 

For Enid, aud when Ytiiol made n- 

Of that good motlier maktoB Enid ny 
In Bueh apparel as mlaht w3l boeciii 
UlB prlnccBB, or Iniged the atstely 



Yido 


with liat hard 


memgewenliit 


Like 


flaws in summer layln|j Iialy 


For 
But 


Enid all Bbash'd she knew nol 
why, 
■d net to glaueo at b«T p*^ 

mother'" fttce- 

iDotlicr silent loo, iiochdplnalieT, 


And 


roWd^lH™. In 




And BO dcBCended. 
MoregVraint 
And gUnelng all at 


Kaycr num rc- 
o cract bcr tbt:> 
once laJaaJjU 



wlf. 






3elp'd to the mother's 

— "Jiout ,a mirror. In the cergooi 



GERAINT AND ENID. 



267 



^ O TOT new mother, be not wroth or 

giieved 
At your new son, for my petition to 

her. 
"When late I left Caerleon, our great 

Queen, 
Xu words whose echo lasts, they were 

so sweet, 
Made promise, that whatever bride I 

brought. 
Herself would clothe her like the sun 

in Heaven. 
Thereafter, when I reach'd this roln'd 

hold. 
Beholding one so bright in dork estate. 
1 vow*d that could 1 gain her, our kind 

Queen, 
I^o hand but hers, should make your 

Enid burst 
Sunlike from cloud — and likewise 

thought perhaps, 
That service done so graciously would 

bind 
The two together ; for I wish the two 
To love each other : how should Enid 

find 
A nobler friend ? Another thought I 

had; 
I came among yon here so suddenly, 
That tho* her gentle presence at the 

lists 
Might well have served for proof that 

I was loved, 
I doubted whether filial tenderness, 
Or easy nature, did not let itself 
"Be moulded by your wishes for her 

weal; 
Or whether some false sense in her own 

self 
Of my contrasting brightness, over- 
bore 
Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall; 
And such a sense might make her long 

for court 
And all its cUuigerous glories : and I 

thought. 
That could I someway prove such force 

in her 
link'd with such love for me, that at 

a word 
(No reason given her) she could cast 

aside 
A splendor dear to women, new to her, 
And therefore dearer j or if not so 

new, 
Tet therefore tenfold dearer by the 

power 
Of intermitted custom ; then I felt 
Ihat I could rest, u rock in ebbs and 

flows, 
Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I 

do rest, 
jL prophet certain of my prophecy, 
That never shadow ox mistrust can 

cross 
Between us. Grant me pardon for my 

thoughts : 
And for my strange petition I will 

make 
Amends herextf ter by some randy-day. 



When your fair child shall wear you 

costly gift 
Beside your own warm hearth, with. 

on her knees. 
Who knows ? another gift of the high 

God, 
Which, maybe, shall have leam*d to 

lisp you thanks." 

He spoke : the mother smiled, but 

half in tears. 
Then brought a mantle down and 

wrapt ner in it. 
And claspt and kiss*d her, and they 

rode away. 

Kow thrice that morning Guinevere 

had climbed 
The giant tower, from whose high 

crest, they say. 
Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset, 
And white sails flying on the yellow 

sea; 
But not to goodly hill or yellow sea 
Looked the tair Queen, but up the vale 

of Usk, 
By the flat meadow, till she saw them 

come ; 
And then descending met them at the 

gates. 
Embraced her with all welcome as a 

friend. 
And did her honor as the Prince'i 

bride. 
And clothed her for her bridals like 

the sun ; 
And all that week was old Caerleon. 

gay, 

For by the hands of Dubric, the high, 
saint, 

They twain were wedded with all cere- 
mony. 

And this was on the last year's Whit- 
suntide. 

But Enid ever kept the faded silk, 

liemembering how flrst he came on. 
her, 

Brest in that dress, and how he loved 
her in it. 

And all her foolish fears about the 
dress. 

And all his journey toward her, as 
himself 

Had told her, and their coming to the 
court. 

And now this morning when he said 
to her, 

"Put on your worst and meanest 
dress,^* she found 

And took it, and array 'd herself there- 
in. 

O purblind race of miserable men. 
How many among us at this very hour 
Do forge a life-long trouble fur our- 
selves, 
By taking true for false, or false for 
true; 



V 



268 CERAINT 

Here, ttim' IbBfwblB tnlllglit of tbli 
Groping. liD* miuij, ontll ne poii uiiJ 
Tbat ntlinr, wb«re ve see u ns sre 

Sofnrsllltwlthaer^nl, wlioiHulns 
That niornliig, when thej both lind got 
PertuipH because lie loved her putalon- 
MA feltlW tempcitbroodiiiErouiid 
^VUtvh, If lie apokfl nt nil, would break 
Vpoii^biwd ID demr In thuuder, bdM : 

V.iot a good (rar on before : ind this 
1 clisrge you, on your duty lU a vrite, 
WliAIcvor bappena, noC lo Bpcali to 



So. li 



Tord 1 " 



i:iild V 



■Wbon crying out " Eflomlimto ss r ■m, 
1 will not iTghC my way wlUi gllileil 

Allsball belron ;" lie lonaedouilgbty 

Rung at Ills belt, and hurl'd It ton-nnl 

d lirul n( bnma 
bold tliuliiug, 



le laatslgbtth 



Waaal 

TIUi sold and acatler'd coinage, and 

ChaQug hli slioulder : then bo cried 

"Tolbe wilds:" and Enid leading 

down Uie tmekn 
Tbro' which be bode her lead blm on, 

Tlia mareliei, and by baudll-liaunled 

holds, 
Qray awanipa and pools, waste plac 



- 'on:;-!.™ "^ 

And wIldornDitMB, peril 


u,pat 


^,they 


Round was 1 


eir pace 


at Diat, liut 




oting tb 
owly and 


mbad 
Ihcyl 


purely 
cDCdlng 


Forbowaa^cTB 


r laying 


oWm 


elf 



1 lliat waited tl 



To dress her beautifully ai 
And there he broke the aei 



AND EXiD. 

May break It, when bis paolon inu 

And i^be waB etct praying tbfl £' 

To aare her dear lonl whole Irom 

And eter Iti bermhid she aut » 

Whlcb made blm look ki cbjodj uii 

BO cidd ; 
Till the great plOTer'a bunsn vldiili 

Her heart, and glancing roujid 

Id erery wavertiig brake an bdI 

Then thought aBnln"It there be lUck 

I ml^t nniend it by the gno 

II be would only ipenk and tellm 

Bnl wben the fourth part gf ike day 
Thoa Exiid was aware of Ibrw Olt 
pn LoracGock, wholly arm'd, beUul 
In shadow, waiting for lhein,<(UII[ 

And beard 

■ ■*. 

Wlio seems no bubler thai 

houud ; 
Come, we will slay blm and trin tii» 



Then Enid ponder'd in btrkuiV 
and Bald : 
" I will go back a little to my loni. 
Aud I will tell him all thdr ai 

lalki 
For, ba lie wiwUi even to slaybignft 
Far llevcr by his dear bniul lisd 1 <B& 
Thau that my lord shoul ■ ■-"-'—■' 
fhama> 
Then she went back 

Met bi> full frown timidly Brni,«a4 

enid: 
"My lord, I law three bandlu 

IVaitins to fall on you, and beard IM" 

That they wonld slay you, and pou"" 

And aroior, and jour damsel nhouWl" 

theln." 
□e made a n-rnihlul 

wish 
Yont wamlnir ot joi 
I laid upon you, not lo rpeak ; 



d 






n keep It 



WcU v 



GERAINT AND ENID. 



269 



Whether j<m wiiai meTictory or de- 
feat, 

Long for my life, or hunger for my 
death. 

ITourself raiaU see my Tigor is not 
lost." 

Then Enid waited Mle and sorrow- 
ful, 
And down npon him bare the bandit 

three. 
And at the midmost charging, Prince 

Geralnt 
Drave the long spear a cubit tliro* his 

breast 
And out beyond ; and then against his 

brace 
Of comrades, each of whom had broken 

on him 
A ]ance that 8p1Inter*d like an icicle^ 
Swung from his brand a wiudy buffet 

out 
Once, twice, to right, to left, and 

stunn*d the twain 
Or slew them, and dismounting like a 

man 
That skins the wild beast after slaying 

him, 
Stript from the three dead wolves of 

woman bom 
The three gay suits of armor which 

they wore. 
And let the bodies lie, but bound the 

suits 
Of armor on their horses, each on each, 
And tied the bridle-reins of all the 

three 
Together, and said to her, ** Drive 

them on 
Before you ; ** and she drove them 

thro* the waste. 

He follow'd nearer: ruth began to 

work 
Against his anger in him, while he 

watch*d 
The being he loved best in all the 

world, 
With difficulty in mild obedience 
Driving them on : he fain had spoken 

to her. 
And loosed in words of sudden fire the 

wrath 
And smoulder'd wrong that burnt him 

all within : 
But evermore it seem*dan easier thing 
At once without remorse to strike her 

dead, 
Than to cry " Halt," and to her own 

bright face 
Accuse her of the least immodesty : 
And thus tongue-tied, it made him 

wroth the more 
Sliat she cmUd speak whom his own 

ear had heard 
Call herself false : and suffering thus 

he made 
Minutes an age : but in scarce longer 

time 
Than atCaerleon the full-tided Usk, 
Before ho turn to fall seaward a^ain, 



FaoseSt did Enid, keeping wateh, be- 
hold 

In the lirst shallow shade of a deep 
wood, 

Before a gloom of stubborn-shafted 
oaks, 

Three other horsemen waiting, wholly 
arm*d. 

Whereof one seem*d far larger than 
her lord. 

And sliook her pulses, crying, *' Look, 
a prixe ! 

Three horses and three goodly suits of 
arms. 

And ail in charge of whom ? a girl : set 
on." 

" Nay" said the second, ** yonder con<ei 
a knight." 

The third, ^* A craven; how he hangs 
his head." 

The giantans\ver*d merrily, "Yea, but 
one? 

Wait here, and when he passes fkll up- 
on him." 

And Enid ponder*d in her heart and 

said, 
" I will abide the coming of mv lord. 
And I will tell him all their %'illanv. 
My lord is weary with the fight before, 
And they will fall upon him unawares. 
I needs must disobey him for his good ; 
How should I dare obey him to hit 

harm? 
Needs must T speak, and tho' he kill 

me lor it, 
I save a life dearer to me than mine.*' 

And she abode his coming, and said 

to him 
With timid firmness, ** Have I leave to 

speak?'* 
He said, ** Ye take it, speaking,** and 

she spoke. 

** There lurk three villains yonder in 

the wood, 
And each of them is wholly arm*d, and 

one 
Is larger-limb'dthan you are, and they 

say 
That they will fall upon you while you 

pass.'* 

To which he flung a wrathful answer 

back : 
" And if there were an hundred in the 

wood, 
And every man were larger-limb'd 

than I, 
And all at once should sally out upon 

me, 
I swear it would not ruffle me so much 
As you that not obey me. Stand aside. 
And if I fall, cleave to the beltei 



man 



»> 



And Enid stood aside to wait the 
event, 
Not dare to watch iVife qots^^X.^ ot^'^ 
breathe 



270 GERAIST 

Short flU of piaTBr, at dtcit «troke a 

biealh. 
And lie. ilie dnided most, bua down 

Aini'd nt U>s helin, Ub laace eir'd ; but 



AND ENID. 

Ar.d UiBT OieiRHlTcs, i:ks cnal 

EHiitIr bon. 
But Info bitlliandBlaU'ii, ■ndnc 

Iniig 
By baiidJw groomM.pTfok'd Ilielt 

Har low flnu voice and tonder gomni- I 



And tben brake abort, and down \x\a 

eiimOT roH'rt. 
And tliere lay BtUl : u bo that 1«11B Ibe 

UlB, 

Baw onca asreat pleco oZ ■ proroon- 

Tbat bod a Bapllnf? (rrnwinE mi it. slip 
Vtwa tbe long slioro-cUff-B ivliidy wulla 

toUioboiu-h, 
And Ibero lie Btlll, atidyot tbe mpliiig 

So liy^^r^n tnuMflit. Ills ciavon 

Of Gomrsdea, inaldiie slowller at tbo 

■aril f nil- 

Ouwboni tha victor, tocouCoQudlbom 

EpnriM wlih bis terrible war-erj ; lor 

TbatJUtenVuearalorrout monnUiu- 

AU tbro' Ib'e crasb of tbo nonr catnrMt 

beam 
The drtimminiE tbundcr oC Ibo Iiar!or 

fall 
At dlstanra, vera tbo noldlcta iTont lo 

tear 
Hbi rolce in battle, and 1)0 bindlcd bv 

it. 
And foenian»nTed,lDtetbiitfaIea pair 

Firing but, OTBrtakan, dUil Ihn .leatli 



from eacb. 
And bound Ibem on Uielr horses, ooch 

on each. 
And lied tbo bridle-relna of nil Uie 

three 
ToBelbar, and Buld to bor, "TlriTe 

them on 
Before yon." nndeho drove IbomHiro" 

Be follow'd noarer bUII : Ibe rain 
«be hiul 
To keep Ibeni In (he wild wnys of Ibe 

Tffoiels of Ihrea laden irltb jlngUng 

Tngetber. Mrved a little li> dlxedin 



The hI 









[ i«S !™Q 



en Eh 



x>m of IbD wwd I 
>pen hesTOIii bo- | 



In IhB brown wild, and mowHi i 

bi^lnlt: 
And down a rocky i>aUiway tron 

Thcrc^rlt^\ afnlr-halr-dynBtli. tl; 
Ids bund 

Goralnt 

Then, niovCig downward to IhellHI 

nw ground, 
lie, vlien the falr-bali'd youth ugK I 

by Urn, eald, I 

■Trffltid, lethereat; tbo dunucl Uw | 

" Tea, willingly," repliod tbo yooSi 

Mylord.eatalao'.tho'thDfanlBcMIW) ■ 
And only meet for inoweisi" theaut | 

Ilia basket and dismounting on ^ 

They let the horses graie 

And Enid took ft Utile delleately, 
J^aa having stomach for it Uuui .io 
To tloee witb ber loid'a pleuurv ; 



AuilwlMufounc 



oatni 



empty.waa «ran. ^^„ 
be, -'i hare e*»^'* 

or Buerdon ; ch'^^-"^ 

itremlly of dell ^^f 



He, reddening in ( 

■' My lord, yon oy«. ru, 

•' Ye will be all the » 

Ibe Prince. 
" I take it u free ^tl. then." said 



^b! 




GERAINT AND ENID, 



271 



And serve you costlier than with now- 
er»' fare." 

Then said Geraixit, "I wish no better 
fare : 

I never ate with angrier appetite 

Thau when I left your mowei-s dinner- 
less, * 

And into no Earl's palace will I go. 

1 know, God kuows, too much of pal- 
aces ! 

And if he want me, let him come to 
me. 

But hire us some fair chamber for the 
night, 

And stalling for the horses, and return 

With victusQ for these men, and let us 
know." 

" Yea, my kind lord," said the glad 
youth, and went, 
Held his head high, and thought him- 
self a knight, 
And up the rocky pathway disappeared. 
Leading the horse, and they were left 
alone. 

But when the Prince had brought 

his errant eyes 
Home from the rock, sideways he let 

them glance 
At Enid, where she droopt : his own 

false doom. 
That shadow of mistrust should never 

cross 
Betwixt them, came upon him, and ho 

sigh'd ; 
Then witli another humorous ruth re- 

mark'd 
The lusty mowers laboring dinnerle^s. 
And watch'd the sun blaze on the turn- 
ing scythe. 
And after nodded sleepily in the heat. 
Bat she, remembeiiug' her old rniu'd 

hall, 
And all the windy clamor of the daws 
AlK>ut her hollow turret, pluck'd the 

grass 
IThere growing longest by the mead- 
ow's edge. 
And into many a listless annulet. 
Now over, now beneath her marriage 

ring. 
Wove and imwove it, till the boy re- 

tum'd 
And told them of a chamber, and they 

went ; 

"Where, after saying to her, " If ye will, 
Call for the woman of the house," to 

which 
She answer'd, ** Thanks, my lord ; " the 

two remain'd 
Apart by all the chamber's width, and 

mute 
Ab creatures voiceless thro' the fault of 

birth. 
Or two wild men supporters of a shield, 
Painted, who stare at open space, nor 

glance 
The one at other, parted by the shield. 



On a sudden, many a voice along the 
street. 
And heel against the pavement echo- 
ing, burst 
Their drowse ; and either started while 

the door, 
Push'd from without, drave backward 

to the wall. 
And midmost of a rout of roisterer?. 
Femininely fair and dissolutely pale, 
Her suitor in old years before Geraint, 
Euter'd, the wild lord of the place, 

Limours. 
He moving up with pliant courtliness, 
Greeted Geramt full face, but stealthi- 
ly. 
In the mid-warmth of welcome and 

grasot hand, 
Pouna Enid with the comer of his eye. 
And knew her sitting sad and solitaiy. 
Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly 

cheer 
To feed the sudden guest, and sumptu- 
ously 
According to his fashion, bade theho«t 
Call in what men soever were his 

friends. 
And feast with these in honor of their 

earl ; 
''And care not for the cost ; the cost is 



»» 



mme. 

And wine and food wore brought, 

and Earl Limours 
Brank till he jested with all ease, and 

told 
Free tales, and took the word and 

play'd upon it, 
And made it of two colors ; for his talk, 
"When wine and free companions kin- 
dled him. 
Was wont to glance and sparkle like a 

gem 
Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the 

Prince 
To laughter and his comrades to ap- 
plause, 
Then, when the Prince was merry, 

ask'd Limours, 
"Your leave, my lord, to cross the 

room, and speak 
To your good datasel there who sits 

apart. 
And seems so lonely?" "My free 

leave " he said ; 
" Get her to speak : she does not speak 

to me." 
Then rose Limours and looking at his 

feet, 
Like him who tries the bridge he fears 

may fail, 
Crost and came near, lifted adoring 

eyes, 
Bow'd at her side and utter'dwhis- 

peringly: 

** Enid, the pilot star of my lone life, 
Enid my early and my only love, 
Enid tlie loss of whom has turn'd m.% 
wild- 



272 GERAIXT 

'n'liatclumce U tills? how iBll 

ho re -.- 
You are In niy power at last, c 

Tet tear me'liot : I cilII mine ■ 

nlld, 
But keep a Innch of sweet cIt 
Here lu tbe heart of wuetu Hii< 

) thonglit. bnt that yauc futl 

tittlaliappler: let 
ie notlilug far a ] 



Ami If it 



Owajou n 
TM,jS!t: 
And, £nld' 



Toierr. 

TLo' men may blctor willi tlis tLiuBB 
They would not make Iheni liraBhBblo 
Kot while ihey ioTOd them ; and your 
A vretebed inault on you, duiably 
Tour aU)ry, ihut lUa man loTeifou no 
Mm ni 

iwpaii' 



old? 



AND ENID. 

ttdelit. Bj 

hiB eyes. 
oiit an Uiov were, wine-healed fi 

tbe reaat ; 
ud anawet'd with such craft u 

"lltYorKuiltieM.tosIBTeolTachii 
bat breaks upou them perilooil;, ; 

■' Enrl, IE you loTe meai In fun 

nd do not pnutiae on me, coue « 
nd Bnuli'i; mo from Ulm as by 
oBvo niB lo-night: I am wear; lo itia 



moving b^uward bublilcd 



Fori 

For tbe m 

But here 

old; 

With mor 



i: nor Willys win Mm 

9 ono who loves jou as ol 
exceeding passion than oi 






They imderstaud ; no ; 

blnod: 
T!or need you look bo bo 



He Ihall not cross us more ; speak but 
Or speak it not ; hut then by Him tllfit 



ButEniil left alone with FriDM G«- 

ssss 

Held Fommuno withherHeU, aadvUl3 

nhe held 
lie fell usleep. and Enid liad no hsut 
To wake him, but buue o'er Um. 

wholly plenspd 
To find UimyeluiiwnnndedBftBraiilil, 
Aud henr bim breathing low sjhI 

equally. 
Anon she rose, and steppfng llEblll, 

■ !i«|il««- 



The pleo. 

All lo be there oimins 

Then dozed awhile hi.-[ii:ii, uui vn^ 

lollM 
By that day's Eriaf and tiarel, erw 

ling at a rootlvH tlio" 



And stmngly Itrtking out h«r llDi>< 

Thon thought >be heard the wildEu 

At the door, 
With all Mb rout of random foUonn 
Sound oo a dreadful trumpet, tuuincni 

Ing her ; 
'Which was the red cock ibauUut I 

the light, 
As the gray dawn stole o'st the de* 

And gllmmer'd on Mb stuiot Id <t 

L Ao^ i^iitiQ a^jtlAL^o rose to louk at I 



GERAINT AND ENID. 

Bat touch'd it ouawares { jangling, tlio 

casiiuo 
Fell) and ne started up and stared at 



273 



her. 
Then breaking his command of silence 



given, 
old 



She tdid him all that Earl limoors had 

said, 
Except the passage that he loved her 

not; 
Kor left untold the craft herself had 

used; 
But ended with apology so sweet. 
Low-spoken, and of so few words, and 

seem'd 
So justifie<l hy that necepsity. 
That tho* he thought ** was U for him 

she wept 
In Devon?" he but gave a wrathful 

groan, 
Saying** your sweet faces make good 

fellows fools 
And traitors. Call the host and bid 

him bring 
Charger and palfrey.'* So she glided 

out 
Among the heavy breathings of tho 

house. 
And like a household Spirit at tho 

walls 
Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and 

returned : 
Then tending her rough lord, tho* all 

unosk'd, 
In silence, did him service as a squire ; 
Till issuing arm'd ho found the host 

and cried, 
** Thy reckoning, friend ? " and ere he 

learnt it, ** Take 
Five horses and their armors ; " and 

the host. 
Suddenly honest, answer'd in amaze, 
"Hy lord. I scarce have spent the 

worth of one I ** 
« Ye will be all the wealthier," said 

the Prince, 
And then to Enid, *' Forward ! and to- 
day 
I charee you, Enid, more especially, 
What tnins soever ye may hear, or see. 
Or fancy (uio* I count it of small use 
To charge you) that ye speak not but 

obey." 

And Enid answered, " Yea, my lord, 

I know 
Your wish, and would obey ; but riding 

first, 
I hear the violent threats you do net 

hear, 
I seo the danger which you cannot see: 
Then not to give you warning, that 

seems himl ; 
Almost beyond me: yet I would obey." 

** Yea so," said he, *' do it: be not 

too wise ; 
Beting that ye are wedded to a man, 
Kot quite mismated with a yawning 

clown« 



But one with arms to guard his head 

and yours, 
"With eyes to find you out however far, 
And ears to hear you even in his 

dreams." 



With that he tum'd and look*d aa 
keenly at her 

As careful robins eye thedelver's toil ; 

And that within her, which a wanton 
fool. 

Or hasty ludger would have call'd her 
guilt. 

Made her cheek bum and either eye^ 
lid fall. 

And Geraint look*d and was not satis- 
fied. 

Then forward by a way which, beaten 

broad. 
Led from the territory of false Limours 
To the waste earldom of another earl, 
I>oorm, whom his shaking vassals call'd 

the Bull, 
•Went Enid with her sullen follower on. 
Once she look'd back, and when she 

saw him ride 
More near by many a rood than yester- 

mom, 
It wellnigh made her cheerful ; till Ge- 
raint 
Waving an angry hand as who should 

say 
** Ye watch me," sadden*d all her heart 

again. 
But while the sun yet beat a dewy 

blade. 
The sound of many a heavily-galloping 

hoof 
Smote on her ear, and turning round 

she saw 
Bust, and the points of lances bicker 

in it. 
Then not to disobev her lord's behest. 
And yet to give him warning, for he 

rode 
As if he heard not, moving back she 

held 
Her finger up, and pointed to the dust. 
At which tho warrior in his obstinacy. 
Because she kept the letter of liu 

word 
Was in a manner pleased, and turning, 

stood. 
And in the moment after, wild Li- 
mours, i 
Borne on a black horse, liko a thun- 
der-cloud , 
Whose skirts are loosen*d by tho brca!i- 

ing storm, 
Half ridden ott with by the thing ho 

rode, 
And all in passion uttering a dry 

shriek, 
BashM on Geraint, who closed with 

him, and boro 
Down by the length of lance and arm 

beyond 
The crupper, and so left him stumi'd 

or dead, 



\ 



Aud OTsrUinw th« next th 

biin, 
Aud blindly rtuh'il ou ill i 



Of darting Hih, that on iti 



CaaieBUppiDKo'ditllelcihBduwgan the 

R ut [( a man vbo stonrta upon the brinii 
BtltllttaihiniiiEhandtigsixiBtlheaun, 
ThQre ll not lufC the (wiiiklg ot a tin 
Betwixt Ills creui iaiew whits Iti 

So, icarod £ut at Uia mdtloii ol the 

Fled ail tlie boon compa>iiiciiia of thu 

AndleClhlmlj-liiirlnthapuliUeRay; 
Bo Taiiish rHaQdahJii* uiilj' made In 

Then Uks a itonny Buullght smiled 
Geralnl, 
Who uv the tdiargera ot the two that 

Start from Uielr tallen lords, and >rlld- 



It fly. 

:l with 



the Hfers, •■ Horse ojid 

he eaid. 

luliul and all rlglit Uuiiest 






paid n 



hinder. 



.r bei : 



AudBD whaliay j'e.thallvie iitrl|>Mm 

your Inyer ? bas your paltrsy heart 

Td b«sr bfa armor ? shull va last DC 

dine? 
No? — then do JQU, being right hon- 

That we' may meet the horaemon ot 



Barl Dwnn. 
ItODwonldatlllbeLoueBl. 

And Badly 'gadng on her br 


Tl.u»hfl 
td"diB led 


But aa a man lo whom 

Falls in a far land and hek 
But ciiuiiiig back he learna 


a dreadful 

owBitnot. 
It, and the 


So pains him Ihat he eick 
So fared It'with GerninC, 
In eom'bM with the (olio 


ua nigh to 
wlio being 






GERAJNT AND ENID, 



27ft 



And bear him henee out of this cruel 

sun: 
Most Kure am I, quite sure, he Is not 

dead/' 

Then said Earl Doorm ; ** Well if he 

be not dead, 
Why wail ye for him thus? ye seem a 

childl 
And be he dead, I count you for a fool; 
Your wailing will not quicken him : 

dead or not, 
Ye mar a comely face with idiot tears. 
Yet, since the face u comely— some of 

you, 
Here, take him up, and bear him to 

our hall : 
An if he live, we will have him of our 

band ; 
And if he die, why earth has earth 

enough 
To hide him. See ye take the charger 

too, 
A noble one." 

He spake, and past away. 
But left two brawny spearmen, who 

advanced, 
Hach growling like a dog, when his 

good bone 
Seems to be pluck*d at by the village 

boys 
Who love to vex him eating, and he 

fears 
To lose his bone, and lays his foot 

upon it, 
Gnawing and growling : so the rufflans 

growrd, 
Fearins to lose, and all for a dead man, 
Tlieir chance of booty from the morn- 
ing's raid ; 
Yet raised and laid him on a litter- 
bier. 
Such as they brought upon their fo- 
rays out 
For those that might be wounded ; laid 

him on it 
All in the hollow of his shield, and 

took 
And bore him to the naked hall of 

Doorm, 
(His gentle charger following him un- 

led) 
And cast him and the bier in which he 

lay 
Down on an oaken settle in the hall. 
And then departed, hot in hatfitetojoin 
Their luckier mates, but growling as 

before. 
And cursing their lost timO; and the 

dead man. 
And their own Earl, and their own 

souls, and her. 
They might as well have blest her : she 

was deaf 
To blessing and to cursing save from 

one. 

So for long hours sat Enid by her 
lord. 
There in the naked ball, propping his 
head, 



And chafing his pale hands, and call. 

inc to him. 
And ac tlie last he waken'd from his 

swoon. 
And found his own dear bride propping 

his head, 
And chafing his faint hands, and call* 

ing to him ; 
And felt the warm tears falling on his 

face ; 
And said to his own heart, " she weeps 

for me : ** 
And yet lay still, and feign'd himself 

as dead, 
That he might prove her to the utter- 
most, 
And say to liis own heart " she weeps 

for me." 

But in the falling afternoon retum'd 
The huge Eurl Doorm with plunder to 

the hall. 
His lusty spearmen follow'd him with 

noise : 
Each hurling down a heap of things 

that rang 
Against the pavement, cast his lance 

aside, 
And doff 'd his helm : and then there 

fluttered in. 
Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated 

eyes, 
A tribe of women, dress'd In many 

hues. 
And mingled with the spearmen : and 

Earl Doorm 
Struck with a knife's haft hard against 

the board, 
And call'd for flesh and wine to feed 

his spears. 
And men brought in whole hogs and 

quarter beeves, 
And all the hall was dim with steam of 

flesh : 
And none spake word, but all sat down 

at once. 
And ate with tumult In the naked 

hall. 
Feeding like horses when you hear 

them feed ; 
Till Enid shrank far back Into herself, 
To shun the wild ways of the lawless 

tribe. 
But when Earl Doorm had eaten all he 

would. 
He roll'd his eyes about the hall, and 

found 
A damsel drooping in a comer of it. 
Then he remember'd her, and how she 

wept ; 
And out of her there came a power 

upon him ; 
And rising on a sudden, he said, ** Eat ! 
I never yet beheld a thing so pale. 
God's curse, It makes me mad to see 

you weep. 
Eat ! Look yourself. Good luck had 

your good man. 
For were I dead who is it would weep 

forme? 



GERAmr 

t IsJy. never alnco I flnt drew 



it lady, never 
brealli. 



Tliere 1> not one imonE my lelitle- 

te tit to wear your atlpper for a 

Rlove. 
1 lliuii to me, nnd by me bo ruled. 
1 1 win Ud the thing I hofe not 

For you Bbnll Bbare my euldoui wOli 
Aiid we wnnlre lllie two bird* ill one 
Ana 1 win tetcb you forage from all 
ForltoniiwlallcrealureilomywUl." 
He spoke : the brawny apesrmui let 
BDlgR Willi tliennnrallow'il piece, and 

'Wbllo ■ome. whOH Bo'ulB tUe u]<l uet- 

pent loi.K baa drawn 
Itown, ai tbe worm druws in [bo 



AND ENID. 

I " No, no," Mid Enlil, vest, " I wfll 

Tin yuiidoT man upon Uie bier artie, 

Aiiil eutwitli me-" " I>rlii]c,tlieni"ba 

lAna nilM a. born with wine and beld 



Before 1 wall luive Uronken. 



orded- 



Whit Bbali uut be 

men. otwbat had been tJiosa gra- 
MiQW deBlreiltbfl humbling of llieir 
I, would havs help'd blm to it : nnd 

They Imted her, who look no thoDght 
lowTolco, her meek 

DroopTug. ■'■! pray you of your conr- 

She apake ko low he banlly lieaid her 

Bnt like a nd'flity patron, latisfled 
With wimt hlmiwlf had done eo gra- 

Aiiumed that ibe had tliaulied liim, 

adding. "ye». 
Eat and be Elod, lor I aceount yoa 

She anawer'd meekly. " How ■honld 
1 bo glad 
Benreforth iu all the world at any- 

Unlil niy lord arise and look upon 

Sere Iho huge Eart crlod out upon 

I all but empty heart and wpBrines* 
id Biokly nothing; auddeuly leiied 

ber by main violence to the 

And thTiiBt 'the lUsh before bet, crying, 




changB JO 


nrwiU. 


■ 


Tlllni^do^lo 
And dr{nk iritli 


H^k"*' 


' by Heaven, I 


dlriaoftndbldmedo 


IwiUnotliwka 


twine 


mil 1 die," 


AlthlBheturn'dall 


red and paced 



wgnaw'dhl 



TaJte warning ; yonder 
And 1 compelall creatii 



Uelioidinghowyebuitagalni-tniy will 
Tliat I forbeai yon tbuk : cross me » 



i 



aat put off to please me thli 
filkeii rag, this beggai-wo 
beauty should go b 



(oily : 

roneeyano. ^,, ,^,,...-..,.1. 

Huw gay, how mlted to the Iiouimi ol 

Who ]ov«i that beauty should gobi 

Bise tbereCore ; robe youcseU In (I 

lis spoke, and one among hlsgeiltl*- 

DUplay'il a splendid silk of lorelgB 

Where like a shoaling sek tlie lovely 

blue 
Flsy'd into green, and Ilili^er duKD 

Wltb]ewel> than theewarJ «ltb4n>l> 

When all nlithi long a cload ellnp 10 J 

And with the' davmuoandlDg l«U lb« I 



GERAINT AND ENID. 



277 



Sti-ike where it clang : so thickly shone 
the gems. 

Bat Enid aniwer'd, harder to be 
moved 

Than hardest tyrants in their day of 
power, 

With life-long injories burning una- 
venged, 

And now their hour has come ; and 
Enid said : 

" In this poor gown my dear lord 

found me first, 
And loved me serving in my father's 

hall: 
In this poor gown I rode with him to 

court, 
And there the Queen array*d me like 

the sun : 
In this poor gown he bade me clothe 

myself, 
TVlien now we rode upon this fatal 

quest 
Of honor, where no honor can be 

Siin'd : 
is poor gown I will not cast 
aside 
Until himself arise a living man, 
And bid me cast it. I have griefs 

enough : 
Pray you be eentle, pray you let me be : 
I never loved, can never love but him : 
ITea, God, I pray you of your gentle- 
ness, 
Ue being as he is, to let me be.*' 

Then strode the brute Earl up and 

down his hall, 
And took his russet beard between his 

teetli ; 
Last, coming up qtdte close, and in his 

mood 
Crying, ** I count it of no more avail, 
l>ame, to be gentle than ungentle wiin 

you; 
Take my salute," unknightly with flat 

hand. 
However lightly, smote her on the 

cheek. 

Then Enid, in her utter helpless- 
ness. 

And since she thought, " he had not 
dared to do it, 

Except he surely knew my lord was 
dead," 

Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter 
cry. 

As of a wild thing taken in the trap, 

Which sees the trapper coming thro* 
the wood. 

This heard Geraint, and grasping at 

his sword, 
fit lay beside him in the hollow shield,) 
Made but a single lx>und, and with a 

sweep of it 
Shore thro^ the swarthy neck, and like 

a ball 
The russet-bearded head roU'd on the 

floor. 



So died Earl Doorm by him he counted 

dead. 
And all the men and women in the hall 
llose when they saw the dead man rise, 

and fled 
Yelling as from a spectre, and the two 
Were left alone together, and he said : 

" Enid, I have used you worse than 

that dead man ; 
Done you more wrong : we both have 

undergone 
That trouble which has left me thrice 

your owh : 
Henceforward I will rather die than 

doubt. 
And here I lay this penance on myself. 
Not, tho' mine own ears heard you 

yester-mom — 
You thought me sleeping, but I heard 

you say, 
I heard you say, that you were no true 

wife : 
I swear I will not ask your meaning in 

it: 
I do believe yourself against yourself, 
And will henceforward rather die than 

doubt." 

And Enid could not say one tender 

word, 
She felt so blunt and stupid at the 

heart * 
She only prayed him, " Fly, they will 

return 
And slay you : fly, your charger is 

without, 
My palf ry lost." " Then, Enid, shall 

yon ride 
Behind me." " Yea," said Enid, " let 

us go." 
And moving out they found the stately 

horse. 
Who now no more a vassal to the thief. 
But free to stretch its limbs in lawful 

fight, 
Neigh'd with all gladness as they came, 

and stoop'd 
With a low whinny toward the pair : 

and she 
Kiss'd the white star upon his noble 

front. 
Glad also ; then Geraint upon the horse 
Mounted, and reach'd a hand, and on 

his foot 
She set herownandclimb'd ; he tum'd 

his face 
And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast 

her arms 
About him, and at once they rode 

away. 

And never yet, since high in Para- 
dise 
O'er the four rivers the flrst roses blew. 
Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind 
Than li ve<l tnro' her, who in that per* 

ilous hour 
Put hand to hand beneath her hu» 
band's hearty 



\ 



mp 



h'im. 

Tlian, f Kiting (or 



Sbtleli'il CO the ■ 

ig it «M Edyni. Kin if Nudcl. 
■ soared «> nincli Uie more, and 

Bhilek'dKgaln, 
coiuin, bUjt noEum wbagBve ;ou 

antlr fotwilrd 



..»,i. 



I took you I 



>t, Enid, I 



siidit kiilglit dC 

[Bliould fall upon 

ore you, Prince, with Bometliing 
it the loVB 
'Wliccenllli we Idts Ilie Heaven that 
iliastens ue. 
ice. wlien I was up eo high in 

That f was Lalf way down the b Lope to 

Hell, 
By overthrowing me yea ttirew mo 

Hov,nia[Iea]ciilEhto[ Arthur's Tablo 

Bound, 
AndBlnce 1 knewUiiiEari, when I my- 

Wnahalf a bandit in my lawlegi hour, 
- come the moolbpieca of oar Ivlng u 

<The King is eloso beliiiid me) bidding 






«r»!?w 



Ifing 



le Judgment o( tlie 



'■ He bears the judgmeD t of the Kine 

ot KingB," 
tiedtbe wan Prince; "And io tl^e 

.reicatter'd," and he pointed to Uie 

'Where, huddled here and thers on 

ire men and womeu staring and 



AND ENID. 

VThile Homfl yet fled; and L 

plaUiliec Uiitl 
How ibe huge Eorl lay eiain wilUii iiM 

hall. 
Bat when the knight besought Ui^ 

Priuce, ID the caoi'p, Bnd in ibe KID)'! 

Speak what baa olianced; ys Buceir 

Strange chaneea here aione:" llul 

oih«r lluBb'd. 
And hnng bia bea<i, and baited 

ply. 
Fearing Ibe mild (ace of the kiu 

And atter mildness a<:ted qoeEilon 

Tiii Edym rrrltie. " If ya will n. 
To Anlior._tben will Arthur ooi 

"Enough!" ha aaid,"! follow,' 

But Enid tu tbclr EOi"E >>*<1 '■* 

One from 'Uie bandit scallar' 

And one from Edym, Every 1 






ilu. Ha, peKaldnC 

" Fair and dear oouoin, you Ibilmw' 
bad canie 
To fear me. fear no longer. 

chaneed- 
Youiseltwore Orst tlieblainBlsttaim 

My nature's pHdefal Bparl:li! Id ■ 

Break into furious Same ; bclnl ' 

ByYnioidiidyoBrseU.l scbemeilut 



Hid her moek.honor »■ the fiOiWt ftJh 
And, toppling nrer Rll aiitHgunltni. 
So wai'd In pride, Lhat I bSievcd t 



I Bbould have slain your (albcT, 

youraelf. 
I lived in hope that lumellmB It 

To these my liBis wiib bim tdiom 



GERAINT AND ENID. 



279 






Tlie tmest eyes that eyer aniiwer*d 

heaven, 
Behold me oyertum and trample on 

him. 
Then, had you cried, or knelt, orpray*d 

tome, 
I should not less have kiU'd hinu And 

you came, — 
But once you came, — and with your 

own true eyes 
Beheld the man you loved (I speak as 

one 
Speaks of a service done him) over- 
throw 
My proud self, and my purpose three 

years old. 
And set his foot upon me, and give me 

life. 
There was I broken down ; there was I 

saved ; 
Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating 

the life 
He gave me, meaning to be rid of it. 
And all the penance the Queen laid 

upon me 
Was but to rest awhilo within her 

court; 
Where first as sullen as a beast new- 

caged. 
And waiting to be treated like a wolf, 
Because I knew my deeds were known, 

I found. 
Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn, 
Soch fine reserve and noble reticence. 
Manners so kind, yet stately, such a 

grace 
Of tenderest courtesy, that I began 
To glance behind me at my former life, 
And find that it had been the wolf's 

indeed : 
And oft I talk*d with Dubric, the high 

saint, 
Wlio, with mild heat of holy oratory, 
Subdued me somewhat to that gentle- 
ness, 
Which, when it weds with manhood, 

makes a man. 
And you were often there about the 

Queen, 
But saw me not, or mark'd not if you 

saw; 
Nor did I care or dare to speak witli 

you. 
But kept myself aloof till I was 

changed ; 
And fear not. cousin ; I am changed 

indeed." 

He spoke, and Enid easily believed. 
Like simple noble natures, credulous 
Of what uiey long for, good in friend 

or foe. 
There most in those who most have 

done them ill. 
And when they reach*d the camp the 

King himself 
Advanced to greet them, and behold- 
ing her 
The' paie, yet happy, ask'd her not a 
word. 



But went apart with Edym, whom he 

held 
In converse for a little, and retum'd. 
And, gravely smiling, lifted her from 

horse. 
And kiss'd her with all pureness, 

brother-like, 
And showed an empty tent allotted 

her. 
And glancing for a minute, till he saw 

her 
Pass into it, tum'd to the Prince, and 

said: 

" Prince, when of late ye pray*d me 

for my leave 
To move to your own land and there 

defend 
Tour marches, I was prick'd with some 

reproof, 
As one that let foul wrong stagnate 

and be, 
By having look*d too much thro* alien 

eyes, 
And wrought too long with delegated 

hands, 
^ot used mine own : but now behold 

me come 
To cleanse tills common sewer of all 

my realm, 
With Edyrn and with others : have yo 

look'd 
At Edyrn ? have ye seen how nobly 

changed ? 
This work of his is great and wonder- 
ful. 
His very face with change of heart \B 

changed. 
The world will not believe a man re- 

Eents : 
is wise world of ours is mainly 

right. 
Full seldom does a man repent, or use 
Both grace and will to pick the vicious 

quitch 
Of blood and custom wholly out of 

him. 
And make all clean, and plant himself 

afresh. 
Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart 
Asl will weed thia land before I jgo. 
I, therefore, made him of our Table 

Round, 
Not rashly, but have proved him every- 
way 
One of our noblest, our most valorous, 
Sanest and most obedient : and indeed 
This work of Edyrn wrought upon 

himself 
After a life of violence, seems to me 
A thousand-fold more great and won- 

ful 
Then if some knight of mine, risking 

his life. 
My subject with my subjects undez 

liim. 
Should make an onslaught single on m 

realm 
Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by 

one 



^ 



And were hiniMtt nleh 



9o spake tbs King ; loir baw'd the 
Priiiue, iiix<l Celt 

dciful. 
And put 10 Enld-B tent; nndlUtlier 

The King's own leech to loolt inlo hts 

Aiid El 



MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 

unded to AndflttyknIghtBrodeirlUilbeiiilD 
Of Savorn, and they put to tbelt i 
And there' he kept the ]i»acaDt 






}und him 



Of hsraweet tendance hoTerliig over 

riil'd all the BenlBl conraea d( his 
blood 

loief " ' "'^^ " ^"^ 
A> the foutb-west Ibal bloirlngDjlia 

Fills nil ths eacred I>ob. So put Ihe 

Bnt whllo Geralnt lay healing of his 

ThB hlamHless Klnj went forth and 

On ew^ of lOl whom Uthec left in 

Long iliiee. to guard the JuBlloe of the 

no look'd an.l found them wanHng; 

Msn weed the while horao ou the Berk- 

ihlrs hill! 
To keep him bright and clean as liere- 



With henrls and hands, snd sent n 

thousand men 
TaUlllhe wastes, and moring CTcry. 

Cleafd the dark places and let in the 

Aud broke the Itandit holds and 



With Arfliurlo Caerloon u 



well. 



ihat all was 
tarrying for a apace they 



Ancl being ever fotoi 

AiidviclorBtthetllt _,. 

They eall'd htm the great Prinet ail 

But Enid, whom her ladles Ian 

rail 
Enid the Fair, a grateful peonleiu 
Knid the Good; and ia their I 

The cry of children, Enlds and 

Of times la be ; nor did be doubi 

But rented In herfealty, till he om 
AbappylUu withafairdeath.siil 
Against the heathen uf tkie Nort 

In batlle. flghtliig for the b1^ 
iiing. 

ME RUM AND VmO. 

9 nf Bromlli 
low huge an 

ill Merilu'afeeVtbe wily ViTieulvi 

The wily Vivien stole Inm Artbsl^ 

jhe hated ail the kuighbi, 



when' Ailhur wslkUl •U 

rumor rlfo about lbs Qw«i, 
her, Vitleii, being giHM 

in have wrought npoa 1>U 

dymood 

rant eyes inoek-loyal,i'i>™ 

I r'd adoration, am 
c sweet hinU of 
9d lilm more 

SllOuid nriin liln 

:h theK 



With d 



r blankly! 
le had watch'd, and liad nottalC> 



moat famous man otsJl 



2fERHN AND riVElX. 



281 



Udlln, who knew the range of all 

their arts* 
Had built the King his havens, ships, 

and halls, 
Was also Bard, and knew the starry 

heavens ; 
The people caird him Wizard ; whom 

at tiist 
She play'd about with Blight and 

sprightly talk, 
And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom*d 

points 
Of slander, glancing here and gazing 

there; 
And yielding to his kindlier moods, 

the Seer 
Would watch her at her i>etulance, and 

play, 
!Eren when they seem'd unlovable, and 

laugh 
As those that watch a kitten ; thus he 

grew 
Tolerant of what hehal! disdainM, and 

she. 
Perceiving that she was but half dis- 

dainM, 
Began to break her sports with graver 

fits. 
Turn red or pale, would often when 

they met 
81^h fully, or all-silent gaze unon him 
With such a fixt devotion, that the old 

man. 
Tho' doubtful, felt the flattery, and at 

times 
Would flatter his own wish in age for 

love. 
And half believe her true : for thus at 

times 
He waver'd ; but that other clung to 

him, 
Fixt in her will, and so the saasous 

went. 
Then fell upon him a great melan- 
choly ; 
And leaving Arthur's court he gain'd 

theb^u:h; 
There found a little boat, and stept 

into it ; 
And Vivien followM, but he mark'd 

her not. 
She took the helm and he the sail ; the 

boat 
Brave with a sudden wind across the 

deeps. 
And touching Breton sands,they disem- 

bark'd. 
And then she followed Merlin all the 

way, 
Ev'n to the wild woods of Broceliande. 
For Merlin once had told her of a 

charm. 
The which if any wrought on any one 
With woven paces and with waving 

arms. 
The man so wrout^t on ever seem'd to 

lie 
Closed in the four walls of a hollow 

tower. [more ; 

From which was no escape for ever- 



And none could find that man f6r evexw 

more, 
Nor could he see but him who wrought 

the charm 
Coming and i^oing, and he lay as dead 
And lost to life and use and name and 

fame. 
And Vivien ever sought to work the 

chann 
Upon the great Enchanter of the Time, 
As fancying, that her glory would be 

great 
According to his greatness whom shn 

quench' d. 

There lay she all her length and 

kiSs'd his feet. 
As if in deepest reverence and in love. 
A twist of gold was round her hair ; a 

robe 
Of samite without price, that more 

exprest 
Than hid her, clung about her lissome 

limbs, 
Tn color like the satin-shining palm 
Oa sallows in the windy gleams of 

March : 
And while she kiss'd them, crying, 

** Trample me. 
Dear feet, that I have follow'd thro' 

the world. 
And I will pay yon worship ; tread me 

down 
And I will kiss you for it ; " he was 

mute : 
So dark a forethought roll'd about his 

brain. 
As on a dull day in an Ocean cave 
The blind wave feeling round his long 

sea-hall 
In silence : wherefore, when she lifted 

up 
A face of sad appeal, and spake and 

said, 
** O Merlin, do ye love me?" and 

again, 
*' O Merlin, do ye love me?" and once 

more, 
'* Great Master, do ye love me?" he 

was mute. 
And lissome Vivien, holding by his 

heel, 
Writhed toward him, slided up his 

knee and sat, 
Beliird his ankle twined her hollow 

feet 
Together, curved an arm about his 

neck. 
Clung like a snake ; and letting her 

left hand 
Droop from his mighty shoulder, as a 

leaf, 
Made with her right a comb of pearl to 

part 
The lists of such a beard as youth gone 

out 
Had left in ashes : then he spoke and 

said, 
Not looking at her, ** who ox« '^n^M^Va 

love 




MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 



LoTanunC, i»r I tost," aiid 
" I ■»» Ibe !lltl6 elf-eod ej 



"And li 
dDi 



Acrota her : 

knee, 
And ™lrrt h< 
Cnngbt In a 



tonguB-OrtupId 

: InmsIlfintUien 
" theii oiliUug all at 

10 tnyMlf with wli- 

■httggr maiiUa ot lito 



■ord. So Vivien call'd 



" Are lhe«e your iiratty Icld 
OViTlen.Hie preamble ? jet 



" What, O my 
[ bid the Itrai 



Live^^tou 






Lt "''tLer-. 
ttae cleft, 



■a 

uQer TFfllcume, Thaukfl 
you UBTor opon'd ilp. 

lady palma I cull'd tlio 
ig dropnlse tiom 



1 pretty 



of b 






ling : then ye 
r gavo me one 

O no more thnnkB tliau luight a Eost 

luve given 
■With no nioro Blgn ol reverence tban a 

beard. 
And nben wehnltaJ nt tbat otlier well, 

lay 
Fool-gilt with all tbe blosaom-UuHt ol 
Dflsp incmlows wa bad traverwd, did 
That Vivien balbed youc teet betors 
iki : aud til tliro' tlili 



And Merlin iDck'd UlahBDdl 
and uiid : 
' O did yon never lie n|»n tbe i 
be currd wblla i 



mM in ibe Bllppory Band bdm 
breaks? 






ol lome preugclil 

Had t for 'three dnje Kei 

[nil. 
And Ibeii I rose andaedfretBAitlmrt 

To break the mood. YoB loIlorM mi 

Diiaak'd ; 
And when I look'd, aixd ean> you telle* 

Ine atlll, 



Ine atlll, 
iliid Involved youreelttbe ummI 

a-mlat ; for eball t tell ;M 



'■5r" 



And ask your boon, for bo 



nr dainty gambols : 

1 itrange uil iMt 



BO atiaage.' 
And TlTlan ansnefd smiling mJOw 

fully : 

"OnotBOBtranse as my long nUo! 

^'or yeC «o strange ai you jounll 

Xor hSffm «™ge ai Ihnt datH a»»' 

leverCaar-djitweTenotwbDllTnli;'; 
And see, younell have owu'ilyxlU 

The people call yon prophet i lot t'*l 
But not of Ibuea' iliac cau eHKHIxl 

Take Vivien lor eipoundoi : ilie •>" 

Tbnt lb ree -day-long pnHBgctal e1°°° 

Kd iirUugu, but theBiinie Dlitnuful 



r,,r 



MERLIN AND VIVIEN 



28S 



Whenever I have ask'd this very hoon, 
Now aekM again : for see you not, 

dear love, 
That such a mood as that, which lately 

elooiu'd 
Your fancy when you saw me follow- 
ing you, 
Must make me fear still more you 

are not mine. 
Must make me yearn still more to prove 

you mine, 
▲nd make me wish still more to learn 

this charm 
Of woven paces and of waving hands. 
As proof of trust. O Merlin, teach it 

me. 
The charm so taught will charm us both 

to rest. 
For, grant me some slight power upon 

your fate, 
I, feeling that you felt me worthy 

trust. 
Should rest and let you rest, knowing 

you mine. 
And uierefore be as great as you are 

named. 
Not muffled round with selfish reti- 
cence. 
How hard you look and how denyingly ! 
O. if you tnink this wickedness in me. 
That I should prove it on you unawares, 
To make you lose your use and name 

and lame. 
That makes me most indignant : then 

our bond 
Had best be loosed for ever : but think 

or not, 
By Heaven that hears I tell you the 

clean truth. 
As clean as blood of babes, as white as 

milk: 
Merlin, may this earth, if ever I, 
If these unwitty wandering wits of 

mine, 
Ev'n in the jumbled rubbish of a dream, 
Uave tript on such conjectural treach- 
ery- 
May this hard earth cleave to the Nadir 

hell 
Down, down, and close again, and nip 

m&flat. 
If I be such a traitress. Yield my 

boon, 
Till which I scarce can yield you all I 

am: 



ft 



^nd grant my re-reiterated wish, 
^tlie great proof of your love : bee 

I think, 
however wise, ye hardly know me yet. 

And Merlin loosed his hand from 

hers and said, 
«• I never was less wise, however wise, 
Too curious Vivien, tho' you talk of 

trust, 
Than when I told you first of such a 

charm. 
Tea, if ye talk of trust I tell you this, 
Too much I trusted, when 1 told you 

that, 



And stirr'd this vice in you which 

ruin'd man 
Thro' woman the first hour ; for how- 

soe'er 
In children a great curiousuess be 

well. 
Who have to learn themselves and all 

the world. 
In you, that are no child, for still I find 
Your face is practised, when 1 spell the 

lines, 
I call it,— well, I will not call it vice : 
But since you name yourself the sum- 
mer fly, 
I well coald wish a cobweb for tho 

gnat. 
That settles, beaten back, and beaten 

back 
Settles, till one could yield for weart- 

ness : 
But since I will not yield to give you 

power 
Upon my life and use and name and 

fume. 
Why will you never ask some other 

boon ? 
Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you too 

much." 

And Vivien, like the tenderest-heart- 

ed maid 
That ever bided tryst at village stile. 
Made answer, either eyelid wet with 

tears. 
•< Nay, master, be not wrathful with 

your maid ; 
Caress her : let her feel herself for- 
given 
Who feels no heart to ask another 

boon. 
I think you hardly know the tender 

rhyme 
Of * trust me not at all or all in all.' 
I heard the great Sir Lancelot sing it 

once. 
And it shall answer for me. Listen to 

it. 

* In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be 
ours, 
Faith and unfaith can ne'er lie equal 

powers: 
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. 

< It is the little rfft within the lute. 
That by and by will make the music 

mute. 
And ever vridening slowly silence all. 

<The little rift within the lover's 

lute 
Or little pitted speck in pamer'd fruit. 
That rotting inward slowly moulders 

all. 

' It is not worth the keeping : let it 

go: 
But shall it ? answer, darling, answer, 

no. 
And trust me not at all or all in all.' 
O master, do ye love my tender 

rhyme ? •• 



^^^ 



MERLiX AXD VIllEX. 



And Merlin loak'tl and balf Ijelleved 

fare. 
Bo mrBelly gleam'd l»r eyes beblnd lier 

Like BUiillglil on the pldit belllnd a 

And jet bo niuwer'd lialf luOji^iuitlT' 

" Far othoc was tlio B<mg that once I 
heard 
BfUiishuga oal(,eunE neacly vliere 

ol ns, 

ta tbeu wild voods, tba hart with 

Aboot the founding of B Tabia Konnd 
TbM was to be, lor lovool God ftud 

And noble doode, tlie flower □( all the 

wDrid. 
And enoh iin!lt*d eschlo noble deeds. 

client, out be 
SQch lirsror 
Such triuapel-blon Ing" In it, coming 
TosncbBBteniBnillron-elDBhlnE close, 
Tliai wlian ba ato[.l 

together. 
And ihould bn?e done It; lint tbo 

Scared b; the Doiim upstarted 



I 

J- 



TlaCglorloaB roumlol opbolng 
And chase'd the floshcE ol hie golden 



'Laugb. liltle 

It bBiHS wildly round Iho point i and 

■Wb 108t him : euch a noblo eong was 



AndTlvleuangwor'dHnllinEm 

'O mlna h«TB ebb'd •way (or 

Ind all thro' followtng you li 

wild wood. 
Jopauie I saw yon sad.to eomfnfl 
^o now, what bearli bava men I 

U high na woman In h« 



And RhamE, conld shama bo UilM, 
So trust me not at all or allln ill.- 



Some lost, eoniD ilolcn, aome urel 
kept. 

Ban dawn th9 dlken Uireid lo k 

each ntlier 
On her white iieuk— go t> itwidill 

rhyme! 
Jt lives dlnpetsedly himanyhliBil*! 
And every minstrel ainga It dlO 

Yet iB there' one true line, the puil 

■Man ^dreams of Fame wbll* *Mi 

wakes lo love" 
Trne : Love, Uio' Love uttt of I 

A portion from the solid nreKnt, M 
And naes, careloas of Uia rsH| 1 

Fume 
lbs Fame UiatfollonsdeatblS' 

And what 1b Fame in Ufa bi 



And since yon seem lb 
TbHy fainwould make 



Ted himself a knlghUi' •! 



■■•■■■^ 



MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 



285 



'Asnre, an Easle riting or, the Snn 
In dexter chief ; the scroll 'I follow 

fame.' 
And speaking not, but leaning over 

mm, 
I took his brush and blotted out the 

bird. 
And made a Gardener putting in a 

grafl, 
With this for motto, ' Rather use than 

fame.* 
You should have seen him blush ; but 

afterwards 
He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien, 
For you, methiuks you think you love 

me well ; 
For me, I love you somewhat ; rest : 

and Love 
Should have some rest and pleasure in 

himself. 
Not ever be too curious for a boon. 
To prurient for a proof against the 

grain 
Of him you say you love : but. Fame 

with men. 
Being but ampler means to serve man- 
kind. 
Should have small rest or pleasure in 

herself, 
But work as vassal to the larger love. 
That dwarfs the petty love of one to 

one. 
Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame 

again 
Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my 

boon! 
What other? for men sought to prove 

me vile, 
Because I wish'd to give them greater 

minds : 
And tlien did Envy call me Devil's son : 
The sick weak beast seeking to help 

herself 
By striking at her better, miss'd, and 

brought 
Her own claw back, and wounded her 

own heart. 
Sweet were the days when I wab all un- 
known. 
Bat when my name was lifted up, the 

storm 
Broke on the mountain and I cared 

not for it. 
Bight well know I that Fame is half- 

disfame, 
Yet needs must work my work. That 

other fame, 
To one at least, who hath not children, 

vM^e, 
The cackle of the unborn about the 

grave, 
I eared not for it : a single misty star, 
Which is the second in a line of stars 
Tliat seem a sword beneath a belt of 

three, 
I never gazed upon it but I dreamt. 
Of some vast charm concluded in tiiat 

star 
To make fitme nothing. Wherefore, if 

I fear, 



Giving you power upon me tbxo* this 

charm. 
That you might play me falsely, having 

power. 
However well you think you love me 

now 
(As sons of kings loving in pupilage 
Have turn'd to tyrants when they came 

to power) 
I rather dread the loss of use than 

fame; 
If you— and not so much from wicked- 
ness. 
As some wild turn of anger, or a mood 
Of overstrained affection, it may be. 
To keep me all to your own self, or 

else 
A sudden spurt of woman's jealousy, — 
Should try this charm on whom yon 

say you love." 

And Vivien answer*d smiling as in 

wrath. 
*<Have I not sworn? I am not trusted. 

Good I 
Well, hide it, hide it; I shall find it 

out; 
And being found take heed of Vivien. 
A woman and not trusted, doubtless I 
Might feel some sudden turn of anger 

bom 
Of your misfaith; and your fine 

epithet 
Is accurate too, for this full love of 

mine 
Without the full heart back may merit 

well 
Your term of overstrain*d. So used 

as I, 
My dally wonder is, I love at all. 
And as to woman's jealousy, O why 

not? 

to what end, except a jealous one. 
And one to make me jealous if I love, 
Was this fair charm invented by your- 
self? 

1 well believe that all about this world 
Ye cage a buxom captive here and 

tnere. 
Closed in the four walls of a hollow 

tower 
From which is no escape for ever- 



*» 



more. 

Then the great Master merrily an- 

swer'd her. 
** Full many a love in loving youth was 

mine, 
I needed then no charm to keep them 

mine 
But youth and love; and that full 

heart of yours 
Whereof you prattle, may now assure 

you mine ; 
So live uncharm'd. For those who 

wrought it first. 
The wrist is parted from the hand that 

waved. 
The feet unmortised from their anklo* 

bones 




ilERLlN AND VIVIEN. 



Vtho tLinal it Bgen, bnck : bat »lll ja 
Hie lugeiiil ns la gUEcdoa for ]iauT 

"Tliere lived ft king In Uie laost 
Eaeteru f^C, 
Lew old than 1 , yel older, tot mj b\ood. 
Hnth eaniast In It ot far ipilngf to bo. 
A tami; pliata nncbor'd In hli pott. 
Wtio»a luipk liHd iiluudBi''d twenty 

And pKHliig one, at the lil|;h peep ol 

Re uw two elUa In ■ Ihoni'ftnd hoMB 



llo lightly gcatter'd thai™ and hrought 

Tier off. 
With low ot h»lt his peopla arrow- 



10 from liar ivhei 



And 



Cils 



ilh. thef aickati-d ; « 



the yonlh. they 
:ils UdluiU 






19 riiHtleBt iron ol oia llgli ters' ucurts ; 
id boaatB themeeliea would woriilJlii ; 

camalfi knelt 
ibiddon. and the brales of moDniaiii 

That carry kings In cOBtlOB, bow'd 



lUght 



To nuike lier Bmile, her Roldsn ai 

balls. 
■What wonder, being jcalom, thu 

IlUhomiof nroclnmatlon outthrr 
The bniidred uude[~klngdomB Uii 

To find a wiiard who might tasel 

Klnc 
Soma ehann, irhieh being i 

npou the Queen 
Mlgbt keep bet all lila own : to lucU a 

Hb promised mora than ever king Iim 

A leu^jue uF raounlAln full of golden 

A pnivlni:e with a hundred nillea oC 

A palaae kiid a orln 

the King" 
Prononncod a dlamal bo 
jug by It 



To keep the list low and pretendM 

Or like n king, not to be triae<1 *<l]i- 
Thelr beads ehould moulder ou tin 

dty gates. 
And many tded and fail'd, becsnu Uu 

Of natui'e in her overbore their mn : 
And jnmiy a wizard brow hlcadi'd cot 

And many weeke a troop of ar^oa 

Hung Uka it cloud above Uis ffUimi 

And Vivien breaking in upon liln 
said: 
"I sit and gather honey; yel, uw- 

Your tongue hoi tilpt a UttlO! uk 

Tlie lady never made unwilJinfl irar 
With thoH flno eyee: she W M 

pleasure in it. 
And made her good man jealoiu villi 

And lived there nelUier dame uai ilur 

I mean, as noble, as lliek Qncen m 

Not one to dirt a venom at her isy«, 
Oi pinch a mordei-ous duet liuo w 




MERLIN AND VIVIEN 



287 



Nor owiiM a fteiiBual wish, to liim the 

wall 
Tliat sunders ghonts and shadow-cast- 

ing men 
Became a cr^'stal, and he saw thdm 

thro' it, 
And heard their voices talk behind the 

wall. 
And learnt their elemental secrets, 

powers 
And forces ; often o*ertho sun's bright 

eye 
Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud, 
And lash'd it at the base with slanting 

storm ; 
Or in the noon of mist and driving 

rain, 
When the lake whften*d and the pine- 
wood roar'd. 
And the cairn'd mountain was a 

shadow, sunn'd 
The world to peaco again : here was 

the man. 
And so bv force they dragg'd him to 

the King. 
And then he taught the King to charm 

the Queen 
In such-wise, that no man could see 

her more. 
Nor saw she save the King, who 

wrought the charm. 
Coming and going, and she lay as 

dead. 
And lost all use of life : but when the 

King 
Made proffer of the league of golden 

mines, 
The province wlfh a hundred miles of 

coast. 
The palace and the princess, that old 

man 
Went back to his old wild, and lived 

on grass, 
And vanishM, and liis book came down 

to me." 

And Vivien answer'd smiling saucily ; 
** You have the l)ook : the charm is 

written in It : 
CkxMl : take my counsel : let me know 

it at once : 
For keep it like a pnzzle chest in chest, 
With each chest lock'd and padlock'd 

thirty-fold. 
And whelm all thia beneath as vast a 

mound 
As after furious battle turfs the slain 
On some wild down above the windy 

deep, 
I yet should strike upon a sudden 

means 
To dig. pick, open, find and read the 

charm : 
Then, If I tried it, who should blame 

me then ? " 

And smiling as a Master smiles at 
one 
lliat is. not of his school, nor any 
•chool 



But that where blind and naked Ignor- 
ance 

Delivers brawling Judgments, un- 
ashamed. 

On all tilings all day long ; he answer'd 
her. 

** Ym% read the book, my pretty Viv- 
ien ! 
O ay, it Is but twenty pages long. 
But every page lutvlng an ample 

marge, 
And every marge enclosing In the 

midst 
A square of text that looks a little 

blot, 
The text no larger than the limbs of 

fleas: 
And every square of text an awful 

charm. 
Writ In a language that has long gone 

by. 
So lon^, that mountains have arisen 

since 
With cities on their flanks— you read 

the book ! 
And every margin scribbled. crost,and 

cramm'd 
With comment, densest condensation, 

hanl 
To mind and eye ; but the long sleep- 
less nights 
Of my long life have made It easy to 

me. 
And none can read the text, not even 

1; 

And none can read the comment but 

myself ; 
And In the comment did I find the 

charm. 
O. the results are simple ; a mere child 
Might use it to the harm of any one. 
And never could undo it : ank no more: 
For tho' you should not prove it upon 

me. 
But keep, that oath you swore, you 

might, perchance, 
Assay it on some one of tho Table 

Round, 
And all because you dream they babble 

of you." 

And Vivien, frowning in true anger, 

said: 
" What dare the full-fed liars say of 

me? 
They ride abroad redressing human 

wronss ! 
They sit with knife in meat and wine 

In horn. 
They bound to holy vows of chastity ! 
Were I not woman, I could tell a tale. 
But you are man, you well can under- 
stand 
Tho shame that cannot be explaln'd 

for shame. 
Notoneof all the drove should toucU 

m» : swine ! " 

Then answer'd Merlin careless of her 
wordt. 



V 



MERLIS AND VIVIEN. 



^ 



" Vb breBilia but accamtioi 
Spleen-born. I tlilnli, and pi' 
Sat up tha Pbarge jo know, t 



onawor'd 
t lo SlrTa 



wraiMully. 

- -'— iftyyelof 

lUi left Mid wutcbor 






And 
'■ O ny, whi . 

Iita wire 
And two fair bsboi, and «onC I 

Unt latidu i 
Waaouoyear gpne, aiidon rotuinlng 

Not two bat three : theio lay Iba reck- 
ling, ona 
Bat one hour old ] What said Uio 

Aseien moDtbi'lmbBhadbesnatraor 

I confused 



bia faCherhi 



Onedindtbavhad: 

Hhi kinsnian tiave 

artnir 
aa clmnred by Yalt 

tba child. 
a brooKht, not fm 

lake the truUi. 

"0«y,"«rid 



und It Iherotore ; 






ynyal, lay ye liien 

ThatatdBnlman? 'toploofcthodower 

So Bays the lODg, < I troiv It la no trea- 

O Maalerl Bball vb cnll bim nvcmnlck 
To crop Ills uwu Biveei roflo beluta UiB 

And Merlin Bnawer'd " Orerquick 

Tocnlchalothlyplumefall'n from the 

Of that foul bird of rapine whoee whole 

la man's good name ; ha never ttrone'd 
hialiridp. 

tale. An angry guBt of 

IB torch amone (he myriad 



PufTd out 1 



And darkling felt the tculptared oma- 
nist wrealhen round It, made it lecm 



liileai luan baaldei a iM 
blthar ilspt, nor knen of Mbtr 
le high dawn piercing Urn 



Bluahin* 

Ha rose without a word and pirtdl 

from her : 
But wbeii the thing traa blaIed>^ 

the court. 
The brute world Lowllna forced U 

Into bonda, 

ihanced Uiey are hip 



being pi 
" ay." aald %'1t 



" that HI 



.. ... ^ fair Sir PetflttH 

And of t]ie horrid fouhieaa llial Id 

The Balnily youth, the flpoilcn lint 

of Clirist, 
Or Bome black wether of 81. SitU'i 

told, 
at, ill the preclncli of the eliaptl- 

oiig the knightly braaaei el Ika 

1 f;- 






) oold nio Jacela of lb« 



i 



And Merlin anawGr'd carelOM ol tMt 
" A sober man l> Perdyale and pttw ; 

Then paced for coolne^a in the eliic*'' 

'Where one of Satan's shepheidCUH 

caught 
And meant to aUmp him WlUi kci 

maater'e mark ; 
And that he aiiiii'd. Is not bellei 
upon hla face t~ but 




(riand ? 
Traitor or true ? 
Cie Que«D, 



MERLIN AND VIVIEN 



289 



I Mk you, is it clamored by the child. 
Or whisper'd in the corner ? do yoa 
iLnowit?** 

To which he answer'd sadly, *< Yea, I 
know it. 

Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first, 

To fetch her, and she took him for the 
King: 

So fixt her fancy on him : let him be. 

But have you no one word of loyal 
praise 

For Arthur, blameless King and stain- 
less man ? " 

She an8wer*d with a low and chuck- 
ling laugh ; 

** Him ? is he man at all, who knows 
and winks ? 

Sees what his fair bride is and does, 
and winks? 

By which the good king means to 
blind himself. 

And blinds himself and all the Table 
Round 

To all the foulness that the3' work. 
Myself 

Could call him (were it not for woman- 
hood) 

The pretty, popular name sox^h man- 
hood earns, 

Could call him the main cause of all 
their crime ; 

Yea, were he not crown'd king, coward, 
and fooL'* 

Then Merlin to his own heart, loath- 
ing, said ; 

** O true and tender ! O my liege and 
king! 

O selfless man and stainless gentleman. 

Who wouldst a^nst thine own eye- 
witness fain 

Have all men true and leal, all women 
pure; 

How, in the mouths of base interpre- 
ters. 

From over-fineness not intelligible 

To things with every sense as utlse and 
foul 

As the poach'd filth that floods the 
middle street. 

Is thy white blomelessness accounted 
blame !*' 

But Vivien deeming Merlin over- 
borne 

By instance, recommenced, and let 
her tongue 

Bags like a fire among the noblest 
names, 

Polluting, and imputing her whole 
sell. 

Defaming and defacing, till she left 

Kot even Lancelot brave, nor Qalahad 
clean. 

•Her words had issue other than she 
willU 
Hednigg'dhis eyebrow bushes down, 
•namade 



A snowy penthouse for his hollow eyes. 
And mutter'd in himself, *' tell her the 

charm I 
So, if she had it, would she rail on me 
To snare the next, and if she have it 

not. 
So will she rail. What did the wan- 
ton say? 
* Not mount as high ; ' we scarce can 

sink as low : 
For men at most differ as Heaven and 

earth. 
But women, worst and best, as Heaven 

and Hell. 
I know the Table Round, my filends 

of old ; 
All brave, and many generous, and 

some chaste. 
I think she cloaks the wounds of loss 

with lies ; 
I do believe she tempted them and 

fail'd. 
She is so bitter : for fine plots may fail, 
Tho* harlots pahit their talk as well 

as face 
With colors of the heart that are not 

theirs. 
I will not let her know: nine tithes 

of times 
Face-flatterers and backbiters are the 

same. 
And they, sweet soul, that most im- 
pute a crime 
Arepronest to it, and impute them- 
selves, 
Wanting the mental range ; or low 

desire 
Not to feel lowest makes them level 

all; 
Yea, they would pare the mountain to 

the plain. 
To leave an equal baseness ; and in this 
Ai-e harlots like the crowd, that if they 

find 
Some stain or blemish in a name of 

note. 
Not grieving that their greatest are so 

small, 
Inflate themselves with some insane 

delight, 
And judge all nature from her feet of 

clay. 
Without the will to lift their eyes, and 

see 
Her godlike head crowned with spirit- 
ual fire. 
And touching other worlds. I am 

weary of her." 

He spoke in words part heard, in 

wnispers part. 
Half-suffocated in tne hoary fell 
And many-wiuter'd'fleece of throat and 

chin. 
But Vivien, gathering somewhat of hia 

mood. 
And hearing *' harlot " mutter'd twioo 

or thnce. 
Leapt from her testion on his lap, and 

:}tood 



h 



\ 



Howfrui 



ilglit. 






itEHLlN A. 



ND UVIEX. 
Becoms* tbeira 



U 



WMto wM ber choelt ; flbnrp lirealUs 

of aiL^r pulT'd 
Her Mry iHMidl oui; liei luuid Ualf- 

IfenC talteHiic ^ilenayB donuH'snl to 

her belt, 
Andleelliigi hodabclouiid a dagger 

(for 111 a wink tbe false love tutiiB lo 

bate) 
Sbe iruuld bare etBbb'il 111 in ; but she 

fDiuidlliiot: 
HU eye vim udin, aiid sucldeiily sba 

To Wtler weeping like ■ beaten child, 



A long. Iffllg WBBpi 



pneller tliaii wm eTcr told in 

in Bong '. O vslnl; laTl«b'd 

I. there was uotliiiig wild or 

jiig Bhamef Hi, fornhab Bbama 

86lotabelrUB,ondiiot Dflyouts is — 

VlTlenliad not done to nin his 

Wlio coll'd her what he catl'd bar— &1! 
■ >, 

I wish to prove him 



her Clime, 
wholly lien 



I 



Bhc miueil a Utile, anil then clapt 
her buida 
Together with a wnilluB nhilek, and 

•■Stabb'd through tbe heart's atCec- 

tloiia to the heart ; 
Seetbeil like the kid In ila own mother's 

milk 1 
Kill'd with n word woise Ihau a life of 

I ttaoaglic that he was gentle, being 

Ho^Hiatl hadloTEja Bmnller raaii! 

1 sbouhl liavs lumul In tilni a greater 

O, I, that flattering mj true panalon, 

Tbe kiilahtB. the court, the king, dark 

111 your light. 
"Who love to makeiaen darker than 

tbey arc, 
BecauBc of that high pleoBuro whioh I 

Of wot»lil o— 1 am auswec'd, and bence- 
The couraa of Ufa Uiat Becm'd so 
Wllb you for guide and masWr, only 



cllflpalliwajbiclln 
uln— notlilnslen, 



:erable uiiklndliiwt" 



She paused, she tom'd 

hung her bead. 

rho snake of tjDld tlld froi 



Tn «ileiife. while lila niiger dlowlydM 

Within him, Ull be lei Ills wtair 

For ease oC beart, and halt bebet 



Ca;Vd her to sheller In the hotloviist, 
Ehoiiiaer. inl 



" Come from the e: 






ihefac 



i bearli 



Hand-bidde 

Then thrice' 

To BlEEk her 

At last she let benelf 



'd, by lenlfRtt- 

peace of mliid,!! 

cou^oit'iltl 



Andes tbe cagellng n 

E'ming -injured Blmplfrbeutcil 

old perch buk, uH 



Came to her 

aetUed there. 
There while die Mt, halt-talllnl fnra 

naU-iieeUed a 

The Blow tear 

eyeii'i <" 
About k 

k 






.hia heart, and (Inn 1« 
creep from her (loKil 

irdraBtnshieldlngsni. 



ButebedlBllnk' 

Her arms upon her breaal >ctm>,>i>iI 

A TlrtBoUB gontlewoomn ilMplf 

UTOUB-d, 

rprigbtanaHuBh'd before blm: I 
abeaald: 
■' There must be now no pnswpi 



ivould reckon worili Ihe 

will BO, 

In trnth, but one thing 
Tbriee (ban baveaalt'dlt 




LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



291 



Hiat proof of trust— bo often asked in 

vain I 
How justly, after that vile term of 

yours, 
I find with grief ! I might believe you 

then, 
Who knows? once more. O, what was 

once to me 
Mere matter of the fancy, now has 

grown 
The vast necessity of heart and life. 
Farewell ; think kindly of me, for I 

fear 
My fate or fault, omitting gayer youth 
For one so old, must be to love you 

still. 
But ere I leave you let me swear once 

more 
That if I schemed against your peace 

in this, 
May yon just heaven, that darkens 

o'er me, send 
(Hie flash, that, missing all things else, 

may make 
My scheming brain a cinder, if I lie." 

Scarce had she ceased, when out of 

heaven a bolt 
(For now the storm was close above 

them) struck, 
Furrowing a giant oak, and javelining 
With darted spikes and splinters of the 

wood 
The dark eaith round. Ho raised his 

eyes and saw 
The tree that shone white-listed thro* 

the gloom. 
But Vivien, fearing heaven had heard 

her oath. 
And dazzled bv the livid flickering fork. 
And deafcn'd with the stammering 

cracks and claps 
That follow*d, flying back and crying 

out, 
•*0 Merlin, tho' you do not love me, 

save. 
Vet save mc ! " clung to him and 

hugg'd him close ; 
And call'd him dear protector in her 

fright, 
Nor yet forgot her practice in her 

fright. 
But wrought upon his mood and 

hugg'd him close. 
The pale blood of the wizard at her 

touch 
Took gayer colors, like an opal warm'd. 
She blamed herself for telhng hearsay 

tales : 
She shook from fear, and for her fault 

she wept 
Of i>etulancy ; she caird him lord and 

liege. 
Her seer, her bard, her silver star of 

eve. 
Her Ood, her Merlin, the one passion- 
ate love 
Of her whole life ; and ever overhead 



Snapt in the rnshins of the river rain 
Above them ; and ni change of glare 

and gloom 
Her eyes and neck glittering went and 

came; 
Till now the storm, its burst of pas 

sion spent. 
Moaning and calling out of other lands. 
Had left the ravaged woodland yet 

once more 
To peace ; and what should not have 

been had been. 
For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn. 
Had yielded, told her all the charm, 

and slept. 

Then, in one moment, she put forth 

the charm 
Of woven paces and of waving hands, 
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead. 
And lost to life and use and name and 

fame. 

Then crying " I have made his glory 
mine." 

And shrieking out " O fool ! " the har- 
lot leapt 

Adown the forect, and the thicket 
closed 

Behind her, and the forest echo*d 
"fool." 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

Elaixe the fair, Elaine the lovable, 
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, 
High in her chamber up a tower to the 

east 
Guarded the sacred shield of Lance- 
lot; 
Which lirst she placed where mom- 

ins's earliest ray 
Might strike it, and awake her with 

the gleam ; 
Then fearing rust or soilure fashiou*d 

for it 
A case of silk, and braided thereupon 
All the devices blazon'd on the shield 
In their own tinct, and added, of her 

wit, 
A border fantasy of branch and flower. 
And yellow-thioated nestling in the 

nest. 
Nor rested thus content, but day by 

day 
Leaving her household and good father 

climb'd 
That easteni tower, and entering 

barrVl her door, 
Stript off the case, and read the naked 

shield. 
Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his 

arms. 
Now made a pretty history to herself 
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it. 
And every scratch a lance had made 

upon it. 



ux ner wnoie iiie ; ana ever overneaa upon id, 

Bellow'd the tempest, and the rotten Conjecturing when and where : this 
branch ^ cut is fresh ; 



v 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE, 



293 



*Slr Kinff, mine ancient wound is 
lianuy whole, 

And lets me from the saddle ; " and 
tiie King 

Glanced first at him, then her, and 
went his way. 

Ko sooner gone than suddenly she be- 
gan. 

**To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, 

much to blame. 
Why ffo ye not to these fair jousts ? the 

Icnights 
Are half of them our enemies, and the 

crowd 
Will murmur, lo the shameless ones, 

who take 
Their pastime now the trustful king is 

gone ! *• 
Then Lancelot vext at having lied in 

vain : 
** Are ye so wise ? ye were not once bo 

wise. 
My Queen, that summer, when ye 

loved me lirst. 
Then of the crowd ye took no more ac- 
count 
Than of the myriad cricket of the 

mead. 
When its own voice clings to each 

blade of grass, 
And every voice is nothing. As to 

kidgnts, 
Them surely can I silence with all 

ease. 



But now my loyal worship is allow'd 
U men : 
fence, 



Of all men : many a bard, without of 



X 






Has link'd our names together in his 

lay, 
Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guine- 
vere, 
The pearl of beauty : and our knights 

at feast 
Have pledged us in this union, while 

tne king 
Would listen smiling. How then ? is 

there more ? 
Has Arthur spoken aught? or would 

yourself. 
Now weary of my service and devoir, 
Henceforth be truer to your faultless 

lord?" 

She broKe into a little scornful 
laugh. 

•< Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the fault- 
less King. 

That passionate perfection, my good 

But who can gaze uiK>n the Sun in 
heaven ? 

He never spake word of reproach to 
me. 

He never had a glimpse of mine un- 
truth, 

He cares not for me : only here tonlay 

There gleam*d a vague suspicion in 
hueyes : 

Some meddling rogue h&s tamper*d 
With hiiii--e]fle 



Bapt in this fancy of his Table Round, 
And swearing men to vows impossible. 
To make them like himself: but, 

friend, to me 
He is all fault who hath no fault at 

all: 
For who loves me must have a touch 

of earth ; 
The low sun makes the color: I am 

yours. 
Not Arthur's, as ye know save by the 

bond. 
And therefore hear my words : go to 

the Jousts : 
The tiny-tmmpeting gnat can break 

our dream 
When sweetest ; and the vermin voices 

here 
May buzz so loud— we scorn them, but 

they sting." 

Then answered Lancelot, the chief of \ 
knights. 

** And with what face, after my pre- 
text made. 

Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I 

Before a king who honors his own 
word. 

As if it were his God*s ? " 



" Yea,'* said the Queen, 
** A moral child without the craft to 

rule. 
Else had he not lost me : but listen to 

me. 
If I must find you wit : we hear it said 
That men go down before your spear 

at a touch 
But knowing you are Lancelot; your 

great name. 
This conquers : hide it therefore ; go 

unknown : 
Win ! by this kiss you will : and our 

true king 
Will then allow your pretext, O my 

knight. 
As all for glory; for to speak him 

true, 
Ye know right well, how meek soe*er 

he seem, 
No keener hunter after glory breathes. 
He loves it in his knights more than 

himself : | 

They prove to him his work : win and ( 

return." 



Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to \ 
horse, S 

Wroth at himself: not willing to be 
known. 

He left the barren-beaten thorough- 
fare. 

Chose the green path that show'd the 
rarer foot. 

And there among the solitary downs. 

Full often lost in fancy, lost nis way ; 

Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd 
track. 

That all in loops and links among the 

« dales 



\ 



"rtlfca-ti'MTI 






LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



I 



i Idiicelot marTDll'il at (Uc v,-<:it<1- 



[,"ivl of 



1<» 
At^i\ Inuiiig foil ml 
Willi two «troiig I 

Sir IdT^ie. 
Moving tu meet lilm In the cBstle 

And clo«e belilml Ihein slept Uie lilj 

Elaine. lOa dauglit«r; moUieF of tlie 

There v/at iiot : «ome llglit Jest among 

■With UuBhterdyliie down AaiheE"»t 

ApproaclTil Itieni : then lbs Lotij 

" WhencB comest tliou, my guest, i 

IJTOBt Mtweeji Iho lipi7 lor hj- thy 

lalght guas 




mr lufUbiMd, ha viu lUi 



I'o u 






Bsfi 



Nay. [nther, naf good father.i 
knishf'sda: 
For nollllllg. 8iirel;I bat^qr'deq 
[e seein'd bo sullen, Text ho could i 
for, linlglit, tlse nn 
bU diamond In I 
illpnorytobabi 






Thof 



1, belikr 



Tlialf^Iwautanaifl'ft 

(Butallnaa jest and Joke iuaoiigoi» 

IlienmuBCEbakeeplteafeller. AUnl 

Bat father BivsmelBovB.nmllflieWIl,: 
To rido ift Cameiot ntth Ui(- — "^ 

knight : 
Win Bholl I not, but do mj h« 



JiTonrhllm 



(rlend ; 
id you Blisll 



"So ye wilt grace 

Smllbig n moment, " n 

)'er these wasto downs whereon I lo« 
myself, 

' glad of you as piTdo ml 

dlamoml-w I 

[^r'l>»0 illBmand.— ir Tsmoi 
'-'■' '• — '■"■ -laideii.if venlH." 
ua."ndiledl>-'- 
I uttl not for 
Then Bbe, who held ber eyes npen lU' 

Elaine, ami heard her uuna to 

about, 
FlusbMsUghUy at the alight illitand' 

Before the itrangar knight, who. 
'ng at Ler, 
'Oiirtly. yet not falsely, Uut 



'If wbi 

A.nd only Queens are 

Itaab wore my judgment I 

deem this maid 
Might wear aa talr a Jewel 



whatltfil^ 

t Uwu. «IN 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



295 



He spoke nnd censed : the Illy maid 
Klaine, 

Won by the mellow voice before she 
look'd. 

Lifted her eyes, and read his linea- 
ments. 

Tlie great and guilty love he bare the 
Qaeen, 

In battle with tlie love he bare his lord, 

Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere 
his time. 

Another sinning on such heights with 
one, 

The flower of all tiie west and all the 
world. 

Had been the sleeker of it : but in him 

His mood was often like a liend, and 
rose 

And drove him into wastes and soli- 
tudes 

For agony, who was yet a living soul. 

Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the good- 
liest man, 

That ever among ladies ate in Hall, 

And noblest, when she lifted up her 
eyes. 

However marr*d, of more than twice 
her years, 

Seam*d with an ancient swordcut on 
the cheek, • 

And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up 
her eyes 

And loved him, with that love which 
was her doom. 

Then the great knight, the darling of 

the court. 
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude 

hall 
Stept with all grace, and not with half 

disdain 
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time, 
But kindly man moving among his 

kind: 
Whom they with meats and vintage of 

their best 
And talk and minstrel melody enter- 

tain*d. 
And much they ask*d of court and 

Table Bound, 
And ever well and readily answerM he: 
But Lancelot, when they glanced at 

Guinevere, 
Snddenly speaking of the wordless man , 
Heard from the Baron that, ten years 

before, 
The heathen caught and reft him of his 

tongue. 
**He learnt and wani*d me of their 

fierce design 
Against my house, and him they caught 

and maim'd ; 
But I my sons and little daughter fled 
From bonds of death, and dwelt among 

the woods 
By the great river in a boatman's hut. 
Dull days were those, till our good 

Arthur broke 
The Pagan yet once more on Badon 



»• 



"O there, great I-ord, doubtless, 

T^avaine said, rapt 
By all the sweet and sudden passion of 

youth. 
Toward greatness in its elder, *'you 

have fought. 
O tell us — for we live apart — ^you know 
Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lan- 
celot spoke 
And answer* d him at full, as having 

been 
With Arthur in the fight which all day 

long 
Bang by the white mouth of the violent 

Glem; 
And in tlie four wild battles by the 

shore 
Of.Duglas; that on Bassa; then the 

' war I 

Tliat thunder'd in and out the gloomy 

skirts 
Of Celidon the forest : and again 
By castle Guniion where the glorious 

King 
Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's 

Head, 
Carved on one emerald, center'd in a 

sun 
Of silver rays, that lighten'd as he 

breathed ; 
And at Caerleon had he help'd his lord. 
When the strong ueighings of the wild 

white Horse 
Set every gilded parapet shuddering ; 
And up in Agned Cathregonion Uyo, 
And down uie waste saud-shores of 

Trath Treroit, 
Where many a heathen fell ; " and on 

the mount 
Of Badon I myself beheld the King 
Charge at the head of all his 'J'able 

Bound, 
And all his legions crying Christ and 

him. 
And break them ; and I saw him, after, 

stand 
High on a heap of slain, from spur to 

plume 
Bed as the rising sun with heathen 

blood. 
And seeing me, with a great voice he 

cried 
* They are broken, they are broken, for 

the King, 
However mild he seems at home, nor 

cares 
For triumph in our mimic wars, the 

Jousts — 
For if his own knight cast him down, 

he laughs 
Saying, his knights are better men than 

Yet in this heathen war the fire of God 
Fills him : I never saw his like : there 

lives 
No greater leader." 

While he utter'd this. 
Low to her own heart said the lily maid 
*< Save your great self, fair lord \ " and 

wnen he fell 



f 




^HH 



My fsvor at I 
■Tair iBdy,' 

Sndi'la my w 



I 



Soe LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

From talk ol nur to InlU of iilesvui- 

Belos mlrlLful lia but In n lUtely 

kliid— 
Slie sUll took note tttat wbeii llie llrlns 

Died Irom bia lips, aeroa Mm camo a 

Of melBiiriiDlj severe, (rem wliidi 

Wlien^ev'fii liar hovering to biHI tro 
Tbe lllv maid luul striven to nioka him 

Tliers brake a suililcu-bcamhig tender- 

imlurc, aiid sba 

.11, perctionce, for 

ig bis face before 



iierlivei.. 
_.. Iieii a [laiiiter, poring Olio taee, 
IHvluely tbro' oil Lunlraiiae llndi iba 



, and so pnlnts 



n tbatU 



and life, 



Sm tor Ilia diildrei 

And fnlleat: so tbo fa«e before Let 

Hied, 
Daric-ipioiidld, speaking 



fall 



lntbe«IIonve, 
mdboldlior from Lac 

Till lalbe s'be toso, Imlf-cbcntod In tbe 

tboaglil 
Sbe needs matt bid farewoU to sweet 

Laralne. 
First m In feai. step aftsr step, she stole 
])o«m tbe long lowet-Rialrs.liEBltatiiig: 
Anon, Bbe baud Sir Lancelot ery in tbe 

" TblB ibicl'd, my friend, i%liero is it ?" 

PaithiH-Brd, asabo earns from out the 

to Ids prond horse Lancelot 
tnm'd, and sniooUi-d 
UiBsy sbouldar, humming to bhn- 

lInlf^«i«ioii»of tlio flattering band, Bbe 




That tJi 






IV >haaU k 

nunael u^i aud down vllUlt U» 

omul it tnie, an il aiuwer'd, " im 
my eldld. 



iiid slie I 



dbim " 



then lie 
Jieriot 



lUt pearls," and brougbtU: 

Ida helmet, tIUi 

en IlTinc." andt)iBbi« 
r fBcasutlUU'dbMnrHl 



But ief t ber all the paler, nhanlATabi* 
BetutntuE brought tbe yolrnubtuanl 

filiiSd, 
nla brothac a ; nblch he guTC U 



In keeping an 1 come." "AEnMle 

She anawor'd,_"tn:ice to-day. lamjoot 

Whereat Lavalno sold, Ltngliliib " UIJ 

ForfaarourpeoplocallyoulilrmM I 
In cnmCBt, let bo bring yonr cdoitlMk', 

So kiss'd ber, oud s'li LanoelM Lt 

hand 
Ajid thus they moved aivaj ; die ttart 

Than ni^e a sudden atep tO tb« (A' 

Ber bright bidrbloivn nbouttbswil- 

OUB face 
Yet loiy-kindlod nilli he: bnlbnt 

klsa- 
Pauaed in Che gatowov, elaniUng bju« 

Sparkle, uiitU biey dipt belc 

ThentoliBfiowe(»h*cl!mb'd,aiiatoOt I 

the shield. 
There kb^t it, aud ao lived hi fi 

Mflonvblle Ibe two eompanloiu ra 
^wav '^ [do- 

Fat o'cc the Ions backs of t& ^°^ 



f o where Sir I^neelot knew there lived 

a knight 
Kot far from Camelot, now for forty 

years 
A. hermit, who had prayM, labor*d and 

pray'd 
And ever laboring had scoop'd himself 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 297 

Two dragons gilded, sloping down to 



In Uie white rock n chapel and a hall 
Ou massive columns, like a shoreclifl 

cave, 
And cells and chambers : all were fair 

and dry ; 
The green light from the meadows un* 

demeath 
Struck up and lived along the milky 

roofs; 
And in the meadows tremulous aspen- 
trees 
And poplars made a noise of falling 

showers. 
And thitlier wending there that night 

they bode. 

But when the next day broke from 

undererown, 
And shot red fire and shadows thro* the 

cave, 
They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and 

rode away : 
Then Lancelot saying, ** hear, but hold 

my name 
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the 

Lake." 
Abash*d Lavaine, whoso instant rever- 
ence. 
Dearer to true young hearts than their 

own praise. 
But left him leave to stammer, "is it 

indeed?" 
And after muttering ** the great Lance- 
lot" 
At last ho got his breath and answer*d 

** One, 
One have I seen— that other, our liege 

lord. 
The dreml Pendragon, Biitain's king 

of kings. 
Of whom the people talk mysteriously. 
He will be there — then wore I stricken 

blind 
That minute, I might say that I had 



tt 



seen. 

So spake Lavaine, and when they 

reach'd the lists 
By Camelotin the meadow, let his eyes 
Kun thro' the peopled gallery which 

half round 
Lay like a rainbow fairn upon the 

grass, 
Until they found the clear-faced King, 

who sat 
Bobed in red samite, easily to be 

known. 
Since to his crown the golden dragon 

clung. 
And down his robe the dragon writhed 

in gold. 
And from the carven-work behind him 

crept 



Blazed the last diamon 
less kin 



igoi 

make 
Arms for his chair, while all the rest 

of them 
Thro' knots and loops and folds innu- 
merable 
Fled ever thro* the woodwork, till they 

found 
The new design wherein they lost thenh> 

selves. 
Yet with all ease, so tender was the 

work: 
And, in the costly canopy o»er him set, 
"" "■ d*of the name- 

Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine 

and said, 
" Me you call great : mine is the firmer 

Beat, 
The truer lance : but there is many a 

youth 
Now crescent, who will come to all I 

am 
And overcome it ; and in me there 

dwells 
Ko greatness, save it bo some far-oft 

touch 
Of greatness to know well I am not 

great : 
Thcreisthe man." And Lavaine gaped 

upon him 
As on a thing miraculous, and anon 
The trumpets blew; and then did either 

side, 
They tbat assaiVd, and they that held 

the lists, 
Set lance in i*est, strike spur, suddenly 

move. 
Meet in the midst, and there so furi- 
ously 
Shock, that a man far-off might well 

perceive. 
If any man that day were left afield. 
The hard earth shcQce, and a low thun- 
der of arms. 
And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 
Which were the weaker; then he hurl'd 

into it 
Agahist the stronger : little need to 

speak 
Of Lancelot in his glory : King, duke, 

earl. 
Count, baron — whom he smote, he 

overthrew. 

But in the field were Lancelot's kith 

and kin, 
Banged with the Table Bound that held 

the lists. 
Strong men, and wrathful that a stran* 

Ser knight 
do and almost overdo the deeds 
Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other 

*«Lo! 
What is he ? I do not mean the force 

alone, 
The grace and versatility of the man — 
Is it not Lancelot ! " ** When has La»* 

eelot worn 
Fbvor of any lady in. tbA 'tt&\;b1 




" How then ' 

UI La.nc 
the 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

mi W« ttaXBH iloim bo AV, 
to Sir LmTBinflr "draw iha 



inch lilB wimt, «a wa, wlio know 
lilm, Kiiow." 

?" afuryaeiie*! 



iliypi 



with 









la prick M 

In raovliig, all logstlier down upon 
Bare, na a wild whto In the nldo XorLh- 
areeu-glimmorliiB Inward llio Bumnill, 

lU BtotniT cretw that (nioko ngaiiist 

the akleii. 
Down on ■ bark, and ovErbcius tba 

bark. 
And lilm tliM helnii It, so Ihcy otr 



Sir I 



cetot a 









knlglita. 






A 






Be (poka, and ranlsh'd taddenly 
from Ilia Hold 
WiUi joniii; laf.iina Into tho poplar 



die. 



:a<l me. If I draw it, jra ihill 
" I die already with It : i 



Down-glancing, lomod the charger, and 
Pilek'il shftrplT hiB own cnlrgM, and 
Fiercedthro' hli side, and Uierasniipt, 

Then Blr I-araiuo did well and wor 
Ha bore a kiifjiht of oM lepute Id tlio 
And broualit his horse to Lancelot 
He nplUe idde, Bweatlngvdlh agon;, 

itthDiiBhttQ da while ha mlgbt yet 

nd beliiK luatil; liolpen bv the rest. 
lib, patty,— tho' it aeeniBd haie-Ddr- 

« ha foueht wltli — dravo bii 

And all tho Table KoDiid that held tb( 

Back U) the barrier ; tboii the horaldi 

blew 
ProoUlmlng his the prlio, wbo trori 

id tbe pcatls ; aiid nit tbi 

'e, and Uke 



Uraw,"~-aiid Lai 
A marvellona great Bhrick and (tolllj 
And half liiB blood buret forth, OA 
For tbe pnre pain, and wholly sirwnM 

Then came the Iiermlt out and tact 

him In. 
There slanch'd his wound i mid OrnB, 

In ditlly douoc 
■WTiathet to livo oi 

week 
llld [rum (ha nide woitd's ruinarlij' 

Of poidnn with their uolio of falilng 

And oiet-tremulous ospen-trMi, In 

But on that day 
thellaU, 
UlB party, kulgbtaotuluiai 

Lords of waste marches, U 

htte lalea. 
Camfl roand their Ei'Sal 

Bay lug to him 

Siro, pur_kuight thro' 



Lonodotllcd 






won tbe day 



ra wounded. 



itaken, cning that hit prl» it 



a knight as we hiva seen I 






He must not iiaaa uncnrcd tot. Wboni- 

Gawaln, and ride futtb and Hod iLt 

knight. 
Wonnded and wearied needs m 

1 charge you that jou got at o 
And.knlgbii and hlngs, Uiers breSlM 

'Will deem tlili prize ot ours Is tsililT 

glTsn : 
UlB proweaa was too nomlrou*. 1 

will do blm 
No cuBlomaty honor : slnM tho knli 
Came not tu nt. of us to claim i 

Ouisefvei will Mnd it after. Itbe U< 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE, 



299 



riiis diamond, and deliver it, and re- 
turn. 

And bring us where he is and how lie 
fares, 

And cease not from your quest, until 
you find." 

So saying from the carven flower 

above, 
To which it made a restless heart, he 

took, 
And gave, the diamond : then from 

where he sat 
At Arthur's right, with smiling face 

arose. 
With smiling face and frowning heart, 

a Prince 
In the mid might and flourish of his 

May, 
Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair 

and strong. 
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Ge- 

raint 
And Lamorack, a good knight, but 

tlierewithal 
Sir Modred's brother, of a crafty house, 
Kor often loyal to his word, and now 
Wroth that tne king's command to sally 

fortli 
In quest of whom he knew not, made 

him leave 
The banquet, and concourse of knights 

and kings. 

So all in wrath he got to horse and 

M-ent ; 
While Artlmr to the banquet, dark in 

nioodj 
Past, thinkmg ** is it Lancelot who has 

come 
Despite the wound he spake of, all for 

gain 
Of glory, and has added wound to 

wound, 
Andridd'n away to die?" So fcar'd 

the King, 
And, after two days' tarriance there, 

retum'd. 
Then when he saw the Queen, embrac- 
ing, ask'd, 
" Love, are you yet so sick ? ** ** Nay, 

lord," she said. 
'" And where is Lancelot ? " Then the 

Queen amazed 
•* Was he not with you? won he not 

your prize ? " 
•* Nay, but one like him." ** Why 

tnat like was he." 
And when the King demanded how 

she knew. 
Said *']^rd, no sooner had ye parted 

from us. 
Than Lancelot told me of a common 

talk 
That men went down before his spear 

at a touch, 
Bntknowing he was Lancelot; his great 

name 
Oonquer'd: and thexefore would he 

hide his name 



From all men, cv'n the king, and to 

this end 
Had made the pretext of a hindering 

wound, 
Tliat he might joust unknown of all, 

and learn 
If his ohl prowess was in aught de* 

cay'd : 
And added, * our true Arthur, when ha 

learns. 
Will well allow my pretext, as for gain 

of purer glorj'.' " 

Then replied the King : 
" Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it 

been, 
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth. 
To have trusted mo as he has trusted 

you. 
Surely his king and most familiar 

friend 
Might well have kept his secret. True, 

indeed, 
Albeit I know my knights fantastical, 
So tine a fear in our largo Lancelot 
Must needs have moved my laughter : 

now remains 
But little cause for laughter : his own 

kin- 
Ill news, mv Queen, for all who love 

him, these ! 
His kith and kin, not knowing, set 

upon him ; 
So that he went sore wounded from 

the field : 
Yet good news too : for goodly hopes 

are mine 
That Lancelot is no more a lonely 

heart. 
He wore, against his wont, upon hia 

helm 
A sleeve of scarlet, broidered with great 

pearls. 
Some gentle maiden's gift." 

"Yea, lord," she said, 
" Your hopes are mine," and saying 

that she choked. 
And sharply tum'd about to hide her 

face, 
Past to her chamber, and there flung 

herself 
Down on the great King's couch, and 

writhe«l upon it, 
And clench'd her fingers till they bit 

the palm. 
And shriek'd out ** traitor " to the un- 



Theii flash'd into wild tears, and rose 

again. 
And moved about her palace, proud 

and pale. 

Gawain the while thro' all the region 

round 
Bode with his diamond, wearied of the 

quest. 
Touched at all points, except the poplar 

grove, 
And came at loati tho' late^tA A&tAV&.V 



■PV9I 




LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 

^^fll^WrfoS In ennmelrd >niis Wlio loat Iba lem we sUpt him at, 
To all ths wlnAi?" "Say. bj 



Irai 



1, and etlad " VThst news 
Camelot. lonl? 

U," she Mill. " But psrtwl 
B iide," wlisrcnt shs cttugUt 
ft- own ElJe Ehe faU tlio sliarp 
["?h« Binoto bei liimd ; well- 
hUo ]ie giLMd wmideriuEly at 
il of Astolat out, to »lioin tlio 
Kepotteil who lio wm, and on wbat 
obore tlie pHze nud <oald 
but bod rlOden v-Ildl; 
To »wk liim, and wu wesrlod ol tho 
To wlioui ttie lord oI ABtolat " Bida 



wiLh 111 



TtilJly, 



oblo 

, and here ho left 
«nie tor : Iiirther- 
n ; vra Bhall hear 
a." To IhiB tbo 
nitsU coQrtesy, 



:b daintier? 



icyos 



n iB vilh h 

Seeds laui't wa hi 

maneouBprii 
Accorded iviUiblB* 
Couitesy wlUi a lou 
And alsy'd : and ca 

ElsUio: 
■Where «oald be to 

IheiUicrtllaiio 
From forsliBBd down to loot perCecC — 

Prom fiwt lo lortbeail eiHiulBilaly 

"Well— 11 I'bido.lo! this wild floivor 

for me 1 " 
And o(t tliey mot amons Uio garden 

at WmieK lo ylaj' upon 



idtWrabc 



■Btro 



, graces of t' 

filgliB, and Blowamlloa 

Ami anioroua adulation, 
Itebell'd ae^nst 11, an 

O loyal ne 
■Whyaskyt 



mr noble King, 
BBlhoBhleldlloleft, 

'e you might leani Ida iianmV 

,Vliy alight yonr King. 
And loie Iho queal he tent you on, 



tr thoit OQ' 



itmiyowililt 



with gold J 



alilelU HsB broDgbt.aiHl 

Lie llODB, 

Itamp in ijie Held, he Emote hit IbiEhi 

"Eight waa the line! our LonMlotl 
that true man ;^' 

" ^''^ril^''" ?*" ^'" "'"' '^'"™^'' 
Who drmm'd myhnighCtha 
"AlMl ir/ dream'd," Bttld 

"that you loTB 
This prcatBBt knight, your 

Speak therefore : Bhall I waBta nijiia 



Wlib'il it bail b 



tlicy tnlkM. 
weui'd,ot ivhnt UiB 

uiyeelf- 
I know not if I know ir 
Dutitlknow, lhe»,!f 
Metbiuka tliere la noi 

lOTO." 

"Yea, by God'a death. 



aald be, "j* 

iw ye '■AM 'U 



Bnt ha r 



meil her 



calling "Stay 

One golilon minuto'a grace : be ym 

■Wool^ be break faith wilb eino I iiu 

Muat our trno man chance like a IM 

atlrutV 
Say— like enough : why ibeHifarbttt 

To croBB onr mighty Lancelot tn V 

And, damaol, lor 1 deem you know full 

Where your groat knigbl la bidden. 

MyqueBtwithyon; the dintnoiul all 

For if you love, It will be BWectto^ 

And If 'he loie. It TtUl be n*M 
Imvoil 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



801 



From yoar own hand ; and whether he 

love or not, 
A diamond is a diamond. Fare you 

well 
A thousand limes !— a thousand times 

farewell ! 
Tet, if he love, and his love hold, we 

two 
May meet at court hereafter : tliere, I 

think, 
So you will learn the courtesies of the 

court, 
We two shall know each other.*' 

Then he gave. 
And slightly kiss'd the hand to which 

he gave, 
The diamond, and all wearied of the 

quest 
Leapt on his horse, and carolling as ho 

went 
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 

Thence to the court he past; there 

told the King 
What the King knew <'Sir Lancelot is 

the knight." 
And added "sire, my liege, so much I 

But f aird to find him tho* I rode all 
round 

Tlie region : but I lighted on the maid, 

Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; 
and to her. 

Deeming our courtesy is the truest 
law, 

I gave the diamond: she will render 
it; 

For by mine head she knows his hid- 
ing-place." 

The seldom-frowning King frown*d, 
and replied, 

** Too courteous truly ! ye shall go no 
more 

On quest of mine, seeing that ye for- 
get 

Obedience is the courtesy due to 
kings." 

He spake and i>arted. Wroth but 
all in awe, 

For twenty strokes of the blood, with- 
out a word, 

Linger*d that other, staring after him : 

Then shook his hair, strode off| and 
buzz'd abroad 

About the maid of Astolat, and her 
love. 

All ears were prick'd at once» all 
tongues were loosed : 

<* The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lance- 
lot, 

Sir I«ancelot loves the maid of Asto- 
lat." 

Some read the King's face, some the 
Queen's, and all 

Had marvel what the maid might be, 
but most 

Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old 
damo 



Came suddenly on the Qheen with the 

sharp news. 
She, that had heard the noise of it be* 

fore, 
But sorrowing Lancelot should have 

stoop'd so low, 
Marr'd her friend's iK>int with pale 

tranquillity. 
So ran the tale like fire about the 

court. 
Fire in dry stubble a nine days' won- 
der nared : 
Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice 

or thrice 
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the 

Queen, 
And pledging Lancelot and the lily 

maid 
Smiled at each other, while the Queen 

who sat 
Witli lips severely placid felt the knot 
Climb in her throat, and with her feet 

unseen 
Crush'd the wild passion out against 

the floor 
Beneath the banquet, where the meats 

became 
As wormwood, and she hated all who 

pledged. 

But far away the maid In Astolat, 
Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept 
The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her 

heart. 
Crept to her father, while he mused 

alone. 
Sat on his knee, stroked his gray faco 

and said, 
" Father, you call me wilful, and the 

fault 
Is youra who let me have my will, and 

now. 
Sweet father, will you let me lose my 

wits?" 
"Nay," said he, *' surely." "Where- 
fore, let me hence," 
She answer'd, " and find out our dear 

Lavaine." 
** Ye will not lose your wits for dear 

Lavaine : 
Bide," answer'd he : " we needs must 

hear anon 
Of him, and of that other." "Ay," 

she said, 
"And of that other, for I needs must 

hence 
And find that other, wheresoe'er he 

be. 
And with mine own hand give his dia- 
mond to him. 
Lest I be found as faithless in the 

quest 
As yon proud Prince who left the 

quest to me. 
Sweet father, I behold him in my 

dreams 
Gaunt OS it were the skeleton of him- 
self. 
Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden's 

aid. 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



Ibe genUec-bJtm Uie maiden, llio more 

MJ laUiEt, to bo Bweel nnci »Brilc8nb1e 
To iiiUte kulgbu in lickneBB. ais ye 



I! 



Bi|[lit(JilnwCTe I lo le«rn Oils knlglit 

t oUTErcai««t 1 veil, and you lount 

give It— 
■nid I tUuk Kbit Imlc l> bung loo 

Utgb 
■iiy mouth lo gape lor >a™ n 

Niiy, I meMi iiotlilue: bo tbin, net 

Being K Tery wilful yon mu>t go." 

Llgbtlj. her sull. nllow'd, >be illpt 

And while aba mute ber ready tor ber 

ride, 
Her laiher'B 1at«gt word bumm'd In 



Aud 



iBing w 
id cFiui 



wilful r< 



dltaell a 






iColT. 






>e bee tbalbuuies a 

Andlub'er bcartahe answec'd It am 

" Wbat matter, bo I bcln him back ti 

life ■! •• 
Tboii lac awaj wltb good Sir Tone fo 

T BodB o'er the long backs Of the buab 

To Camslot, and before tbe <?ity-cates 
" ne on bsi brother with a happ 



. " Tom and Elaine t 



lere Arthur's wan were render' 

It up the BtJll'rirh cItT to Iiii kin, 
I own far blood, wbich direll ( 
Camdot ', 



Stream'.! from H bHU; 

heart she laugb'd. 
Because be had not looeeditlmiutilt 
But meant onoo mora pErrbano ic 

And when they gain'd the cell In 

which he slept, 
Hii batlle-writbeu arms and inijhti 

Lay naked on the wolfskin, 

oe dragging down kli enem) 

Tbea she that saw him lying nndeel. 

Gaunt as It were tbe skeleton ol Ida- 

Uttered a liltie tender doloroo* aj. 
The sound not wonted ill a place ID nni 
■Woke tie .Ick knight, and wUle U 

roll'd his eyes 
Vet Wank from sleep, she aUrted » 

" Yonr pi^ne the diamond aenE tob by 
the King : " ' ^ 

His eyes glUleo'd; ahe tiinfied " b it 

Andvhen the maid had told him ill 

the tale 
Of King and Prince, the dUUDoKl 

rail lowly by the enmcrs ot hlibtd. 



I the diamond In hli e| 



And 1 1 



That does the taik asBlgn'd,be klit'd 



^VbaC might she mean by IbatTUi 

large black ejea. 
Yet larger thro' hli leannsM, dni 

upon her. 
Till all hec heart's sad SQciet blun 

In tbe boirt's color* on her lUnpIs 

And Lancelot look'd nod was perplsil 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



808 



Save one, be not regarded, and so 

turn'd 
Sigbiiiff, and feign*d a sleep until he 

slept. 

Then rose Elaine and glided thro' 

the fields. 
And past beneath the wildly-sculp- 
tured gates 
Far up the aim rich city to her kin ; 
There bode the night : but woke with 

dawn, and past 
I>own thro* the dim rich city to the 

fields. 
Thence to the cave : so day by day she 

past 
In either twilight ghost-Ilke to and fro 
Gliding, and every day she tended 

him, 
And likewise many a night : and Lan- 
celot 
Would, tho* he call'd his wound a 

little hurt 
Whereof he should bo quickly whole, 

at times 
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, 

seem 
Uncourteous, even he : but the meek 

maid 
Sweetly forebore him ever, being to 

liim 
Meeker than any child to a rough 

nurse 
Milder than any mother to a sick 

child, 
And never woman yet, since man's 

first fall. 
Bid kindlier unto man, but her deep 

love 
Upbore her ; till the hermit, skilPd in 

all 
The simples and the science of that 

time. 
Told him that her fine care had saved 

hU life. 
And the sick man forgot her simple 

blush, 
Would call her friend and sister, sweet 

Elaine, 
Would listen for her coming and regret 
Her parting step, and held her ten- 
derly, 
And loved her with all love except tho 

love 
Of man and woman when tlicy love 

their best 
Closest and sweetest, and had died the 

death 
In any knightly fashion for her sake. 
And peradveuture had he seen her 

first 
She might have made this and that 

other world 
Another world for thie sick man ; but 

now 
The shackles of an old love straiten'd 

him, 
His honor rooted in dishonor stood. 
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely 

true. 



Yet the great knight in his mid- 
sickness made 

Full many a holy vow and pure re- 
solve. 

These, as but bom of sickness, could 
not live : 

For when the blood ran lustier in him 
again. 

Full often the sweet image of one 
face. 

Making a treacherous quiet in his 
heart, 

Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 

Then if the maiden, while that ghostly 
grace 

Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he an- 
swer'd not, 

Or short and coldly, and she knew 
right well 

What the rough sickness meant, but 
what this meant 

She knew not, and the sorrow dimm'd 
her sight. 

And drave her ere her time across tho 
fields 

Far into the rich city, where alone 

She murmur'd •* vain, in vain : it can- 
not be 

He will not love me : how then ? must 
I die." 

Then as a little helpless innocent bird. 

That has but one plain passage of few 
notes. 

Will sing the simple passage o'er and 
o'er 

For all an April morning, till the ear 

Wearies to hear it, so the simple mai.i 

Went half the night repeating, "must 
Idle?" 

And now to right she turn'd, and now 
to left, 

And found no ease in turning or in 

And " him or death " she mutter'd, 

** death or him," 
Again and like a burthen, "him or 

death." 

But when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt 

was whole. 
To Astolat returning rode the three. 
There mom by morn, arraying her 

sweet self 
In that wherein she deem'd she look'd 

her best, 
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she 

thought 
" If I be loved, these are my festal 

robes. 
If not. the victim's flowers before he 

fall." 
And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 
That she should ask some goodly gift 

of him 
For her own self or hers ; ** and do not 

shun 
To speak the wish most dear to your 

true heart ; 
Such service have ye done roe, that I 

make 



1 



LANCELOT 

yij win nr jou™, uid PrliiCB BTul Lord 
liid uvn land, and what! Willi 




AND ELAINE. 

of Ufa ' 

To tmo more Ally jo^ut, not 

And tLen «ni 1, (or true you u 

Beyond mine old belief In woinanliA"!, 

More specially should you ina' 

knigUtliopoor, "^ 

Endov you with biobl lanil and ui 

ETsn b> lUe half my leilm b^jionil ih 

So iliat would make you luppy : fnr^ 

Et'o 10 the deatli, aa tbo' ye w> 



Sba neltber bluOi'd nor Bliouk. but 

dcstli1y>palo 
Stood gnsjiliiB wbat wai uenreii 

■' Of ^^iLla will I nolMiig -,•■ , 



Thou tnake. to w! 

blnrkwnllBur} 

TliBlr IBlk Imd piei 



a youi fair \j 

I pray you.niie aoine roueh diHourt 
To blunt or break her imbIou." 

re Bgslutt me: wliatlaiil 

a th&C do; reniBlii'il, uA 



Strlpt oft the caee, and ebto Ilie ulwl 

■blBld ; 
Then, nhon she heard bli honenp 

Uncliuplni; Sung tlie casemenl b)i 

and look'd 
Down on M« helm, from wUth 1 

And Lancelot kuew the little flluti 

And Bhe by tkct of lore ■n' well an— 
That Ijincelot knew that ahc was 1«Ui- 

till at him. 
And yiftTiB glauced not U 






LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



805 



His Tery shield was gone; only the 
ease, 

Her own poor work, her empty labor, 
left. 

But still she heard him, still his pic- 
ture form'd 

And grew between her and the pic- 
tured wall. 

Then came her father, saying in low 
tones 

** Have comfort,** whom she greeted 
quietly. 

Then came her brethren saying, "Peace 
to thee 

Sweet sister,*' whom she answer*d with 
all calm. 

But when they left her to herself again, 

Death, like a mend's voice from a dis- 
tant field 

Approaching thro* the darkness, call'd; 
the owls 

Wailing had power upon her, and she 
mixt 

Her fancies with the sallow-rifted 
glooms 

Of evening, and the moanhigs of the 
wind. 

And in those days she made a little 



son 



5' 



And call'd her song <* The song of Love 

and Death." 
And sang it : sweetly could she make 

and sing. 

** Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, 

in vain ; 
And sweet is death who puts an end to 

pain : 
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

** Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter 
death must be : 
Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to 
me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let mo die. 

** Sweet love, that seems not made to 
fade away. 
Sweet death, that seems to make us 
loveless clay. 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

" I fain would follow love, if that 

could be : 
I needs must follow death, who calls 

for me : 
Call and I follow, I follow ! let me 

die." 

High with the last line scaled her 

voice, and this. 
All in a fiery dawning wild with wind 
That shook her tower, the brothers 

heard, and thought 
With shuddering *< Hark the Phantom 

of the house 
lliat ever shrieks before a death,** and 

caird 
Tlie father, and all three in hurry and 

fear 



Ban to her, and lo ! the blood-red light 

of dawn 
Flared on her face, she shrilling " Let 

me die ! " 

As when wo dwell ujion a word we 

know 
Bepeating, till the word we know so 

well 
Becomes a wonder and we know not 

why, 
So dwelt the father on her face and 

thought 
** Is this Elaine ? " tUl back the maiden 

fell. 
Then gave a languid hand to each, and 

lay. 
Speaking a still good-morrow with her 

eyes. 
At last she said ** Sweet brothers, 

yester night 
I seem'd a curiuus little maid again, 
As happy as when we dwelt among the 

woods, 
And when ye used to take me with the 

flootl 
Up tho great river in the boatman's 

boat. 
Only ye would not pass beyond the 

cape 
That has the poplar on it : there ye 

fixt 
Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 
And yet I cried because ye would not 

pass 
Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 
Until we found the palace of the king. 
And yet ye would not ; but this night 

I dream'd 
That I was all alone upon the flood. 
And then I said *' Now shall I have my 

will : " 
And there I woke, but still the wish 

remain'd. 
So let me hence that I may pass at 

last 
Beyond the poplar and far up the flood, 
Until I find the palace of the king. 
There will I enter in among them all. 
And no man there will dare to mock at 

me; 
But there the fine Gawain will wonder 

at me, 
And there the great Sir I.ancelot muse 

at me ; 
Gawain, who bade a thousand fare- 
wells to me, 
Lancelot, who coldly went nor bade me 

one : 
And ^ere the King will know me and 

my love. 
And there the Queen herself will pity 

me. 
And all the gentle court will welcome 

me. 
And after my long voyage I shall 

rest ! ** 

«< Peace," said her father, " O my 
child, ye seem 



V 



1 



aoo LANCELOT 

Llgbt-heuleJ, fat vhM force Ii yours 

So fkr. Twins '1'^'' " ■'"! vliereEore 

On tbliptouil tellQw ogaiii, who tcona 

Tlien Ibe roagli Torre hcgaa to hears 



AXD ELAINE. 

She with K fuw, brieht M (or iln I 
Besouaht l^T^ne to wrtie u 
A lotter, YtDid for woni ; nnil wlira 
"iBlttor IdncelDt.ii It Kit mr >] 






yseUm 



II Hill 1 tlrike Bi 



comtoit lie hatti done 1 



Kot la luTO m 

Ulmotall lu 

highest." 
"UlgbeaC'J" the Futher ongwer'd. 

eclioinB-'lilgheaf,'" 
(Sa meuit to tireok the pdbbIou in her] 

Diughter, I know not what you call 
-B Wheat; 
a X Kuow, tor nil Iha people 



Mhaii 



The tetter (he derised ; which btlt| 

And folded, " O sweet tather, teit 

Deny me iiot,'" she snUl— "yaii* 

j-et 
Denied mj tanclei — tU*, hgw* 

My iBIeit 1 Inr the lettet In mThul 
AlJttlecreldic, aiidi'losaUiBhina 
Upon i t ; I shall BiiBBl it even InilMlf 
And when llio heat la gone Inm n 

Then tnks tlio lililo lie.1 on whieb 

nceiot'H lore, and deck It It 

„je Queen ■» 

For richness, and mo alio Uka tt 

Queen 

n all I bnrs of rlrli. sn.l la; me on IL, 

iHl let there ho prepared * chariot! 

a take me to the river, and ■ bim 
e ready on the river. I'lollieil 111 biiii, 



I 

i 



There 



mailo Ignoble talk. 



t now it is my e'ory to have Inveil 
1 paerlesi, wilhOdt atoiii : aa let in 



lork agfllxml your 
Hero Iha Ihingayf 

1 bill call the ghostly 



uralyl 



ill apeak fai in 

eotyoa <an ■peakformaM 

And tliereforo let our tlumhoWini 

Go with Die, ho cui steer anil rov, tl 

he 
Win Eulde^me lo that pnlnc*, to it* 

Slie eeased: her father itrornlxd; 
She grew bo tlieorfol that they dam' 

lomlngs paat, and n 



Was rathe I 



And 



biniil. 
day there was dole tn An 



r fnlher laid the let' 






n >nn brokatK 

athren slowly wl 

iipanylnt; the Mi] eliarlot-bler 

fast liken shadow thru' the Delil.lh'' 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



807 



Fall-enmmer, to that stream whereun 

the barge, 
Paird all its length in blackest samite, 

lay. 
There sat the lifelong creature of the 

house, 
Jjoyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck, 
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his 

face. 
So those two brethren from the chariot 

took 
And on the black decks laid her in her 

bed, 
Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung 
The silken case with braided blazoniiigs. 
And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying 

to her 
•• Sister, farewell for ever," and again 
*' Farewell, sweet sister," patted all in 

tears. 
Then rose the dumb old servitor, and 

the dead 
Steer*d by the dumb went upward with 

the flood- 
In her right hand the lily, in her left 
The lett-er — all her bngHt hair stream- 
ing down — 
And all the coverlid wan cloth of gold 
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in 

white 
All but her face, and that clear-fca- 

• tured face 
Was lovely, for she did not seem as 

dead 
But fast asleep, and lay as tho* she 

smiled. 

That day Sir Lancelot at the palace 

cravetl 
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
The price of half a realm, his costly 

gift, 
Hard-won and hardly won with bruise 

and blow. 
With deaths of others, and almost his 

own. 
The nine-years-fought-for diamonds : 

for he saw 
One of her house, and sent him to tho 

Queen 
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen 

agreed 
With such and so unmoved a majesty 
She might have seem'd her statue, but 

that he. 
Low-drooping til! he wellnigh kiss*d 

her feet 
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 
The shadow of a piece of pointed lace. 
In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the 

walls. 
And parted, laughing in his courtly 

neart. 

All in an oriel on the summer side, 
Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace tuwa|^l 

the stream. 
They met, and Lancelot kneeling ut- 

ter'd, ** Queen, 
Lady, my liege, in whom I have my 

Joy. 



Take, what I had not won except for 

you. 
These jewels, and make me happy, 

making them 
An armlet for the roundest arm on 

earth, 
Or necklace for a neck to which the 

swan's 
Is tawnier than her cygnet's : these 

are words : 
Tour beauty is your beauty, and I sin 
In speaking, yet O grant my worship 

of it 
Words, as we grant grief tears. Such 

sin in words 
Perchance, we both can pardon : but, 

my Queen, 
I hear of rumors flying thro' your 

court. 
Our bond, as not the bond of man and 

wife, 
Should have in it an absoluter trust 
To make up that defect : let rumors 

be : 
When did not rumors fly ? these, as I 

trust 
That you trust me in your own noble- 
ness, 
I may not well believe that you be- 
lieve." 

While thus he spoke, half turn'd 

away, the Queen 
Brake from tho vast oriel-embowering 

vine 
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast 

them olf J 
Till all the piace whereon she stood 

was green ; 
Then, when ho ceased, in one cold 

passive hand 
Beceived at once and laid aside the 

gems 
There on a table near her, and re- 
plied. 

" It may be, I «m quicker of belief 
Than you believe me, Lancelot of the 

Lake 
Our bond is not the bond of man and 

wife. 
This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill. 
It can be broken easier. I for you 
This many a year have done despite 

and wrong 
To one whom ever in my heart of 

hearts 
I did acknowledge nobler. What are 

these ? 
Diamonds for me? they had been 

thrice their worth 
Being your gift, had you not lost your 

own. 
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 
Must vary as the giver's. Not for me ! 
For her f for your new fancy. Only 

this 
Grant me, I pray you : have your joys 

apart. 
I doubt nottluit however changed, you 

keep 





I 



Deck liBT vrltli Uioso; ieJI lier ab 
■hinea m» duvrii : 

In luggBrd, or ■ UBi^klaoe tot n neck 
Wu livher IbBii Uieae dbiQiDnila— lier 
Nn;. 1^ Uhi motlur oC our Lord lilm 
Or lieis nr mine, mine non to work m; 
eiio BlisU notliave them." 

Ssyliig wlilch shn i 



And, thro' Ilia 

lot Ileal, 

Finns tl-em. and ^'™ * 

Tlien fcuni tlio Bmlcteu eiu. 






ibejpBSt 
It, 111 half 



Then wliilo Sii Loncelul 

dleenat 
At love, UCe, all things, on the windoi 

le.lBB. 
Cloae uiidirrneath hla eyes, uiii rigli 

'Wliere these hud fallen, BlDwly paa 
iiililg", iiL 




'WUlo thus the; bubbled at I 

B clrt vlUi hnighLei It 

From ihe bt^-fnce to ibafuIl<yo,uiil 

And pointeil to the damBel, and lU 

So ArUiuc'bode the meek Sir Ficd- 

Anil pnre Sir Galahad to uplin Ot 

And teteianlW they bore bar InM 

hall, 
nien came the flne (iswalii auil «»- 

And LanciJlot later came and louHdU 

her. 
And lost the Qaeen henelf and pIlM 

Dut Arthur apicd the letter In in 

Stoopt, took, brake aeal, oud Kid II) 



lUlher, to take my hut fuenll U 

I loyed you, and my loia Lad no i» 

And theretora toy true lore hu bw 

the«l™ 

" nOtikp ]n,l1,4 riHalc#.„,u,„_ 



<ur lady Gnli 

idlea, I Biaki: 

iTay Lor my houi, and yield nn 

Tray tor my aoul thou 14», Bit 

Ab thou art a knight peorlesa," 

Tbu. 

And erer In the reading, tu 

Wept, looking cftsn from Ida 1 
To bera which lay bo silent. 
So loucU;d' Here they, bair-thlnklm 



that her lire, 
al^in. 



Who h 



I the 



Then freely apoko Sir Ijui«lol to 
'■ My lord Uege' Arthur, and all y« It 
Know that tar this moat gentle mal 
Right hoavy am I ; for good ibo m 



1 



LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 



809 



Bnt loTcd me with a Ioto beyond all 

love 
In women, whomsoever I have known. 
Yet to be loved makes not to love 

again ; 
Not at my years, however it hold in 

youth. 
I swear by truth and knighthood that 

I gave 
Xo cause, not willingly, for such a 

love : 
To this I call my friends in testimony. 
Her brethren, and her father, who 

himself 
Besought me to be plain and blunt, 

and use. 
To break her passion, some discourtesy 
Against my nature : what I could, I 

did. 
I left her and I bade her no farewell. 
Tho*, had I dreamt the damsel would 

have died, 
I might have put my wits to some 

roueh use. 
And helped her from herself.*' 

Then said the Queen 
(Sea was her wrath, yet working after 

storm) 
** Ye might at least have done her so 

much grace. 
Fair lord, as would have help*d her 

from her death." 
He raised his head, their eyes met and 

hers fell, 
He adding, 

•' Queen, she would not bo content 
Save that I wedded her, which could 

not be. 
Then might she follow me thro* the 

world, she ask'd : 
It could not be. 1 told her that her 

love 
Was but the flash of youth, would 

darken down 
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 
Toward one more worthy of her — then 

would I, 
More specially were he, she wedded, 

poor. 
Estate them with large land and terri- 
tory 
In mine own realm beyond the narrow 

seas. 
To keep them in all joyance : more 

than this 
1 could not ; this she would not, and 

she died." 

He pausing, Arthur answer'd, **0 



my knight, 
-- th 
a 
liouiid. 



It will be to thy worship, as my knight, 
And mine, as head of all our Table 



To see that she be buried worship- 
XuUy." 

So toward that shrine which then in 
•U the realm 



Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly 
went 

The marshall'd order of their Table 
Kound, 

And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to 
see 

The maiden buried, not as one un- 
known. 

Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obse- 
quies. 

And mass, and rolling music, like a 
Queen. 

And when the knights had laid hei 
comely head 

Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings. 

Then Arthur spake among them, 
" I-iCt her tomb 

Be costly, and her image thereupon. 

And let the shield of Lancelot at her 
feet 

Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 

And let the story of her dolorous voy- 
age 

For all true hearts be blazon*d on her 
tomb 

In letters gold and azure t '* which 
was wrought 

Thereafter ; but when now the lords 
and dames 

And people, from the high door stream- 
ing, brake 

Disorderly, as homeward each, the 
Queen, 

Who mark'd Sir Lancelot where he 
moved apart, 

Drew near, and sigh*d in passing 
** Lancelot, 

Forgive me ; mine was jealousy in 
love." 

He answcr*d with his eyes upon the 
ground, 

" That is love's curse ; pass on, my 
Queen, forgiven." 

But Arthur who beheld his cloudy 
brows 

Approach'd him, and with full affec- 
tion flung 

One arm about his neck, and spake 
and said. 

"Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in 

whom I have 
Most love and most affiance, for I 

know 
What thou hast been in battle by my 

side. 
And many a time have watched thee 

at the tilt 
Strike down the lusty and long-prao- 

tised knight, 
And let the younger and unskilPd go 

by 
To win his honor and to make his 

name. 
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a 

man 
Made to be loved ; but now I would 

to God. 
For the wild people say wild things of 

theot 



t 



\ 



THE HOLY GIUIL. 



d fiom bur 

una naj Judge the Uvlns by Ihe 

DuUFSlely pare and ninrvelloasly fair, 
*"' - mlgtitliave brought tlii»e, iiuw a 

I Myknigbt.' the great Sii Lancelot of 



I To doubt her Mrneaa wera IQ waul an 

I To doubt ber purcneea nera to wont a 

Cea, to be lovod. It what Is worthy love 
:ould bind him, hut Ircolovo will not 

be bound,'' 
"F«a loTe, lo bound, were freSst." 

Bsld the Klliu. 
■ Lot love iM free ; Icee Ioyb la toe tha 



I 



id lifted up bis 

^nd saw the barge that broueht het 

FarnilT, » bw upon the stream, and 

Bald 
low In liinnelf " Ah aiaiplo heart and 

re loved me, damsel, lurclj' with a 

man my Queen'g. Pray 

Pure well, fair Illy. 'Joalou 
Ifot rather dead love'a 1 

Queen, if I entit 'the Jea 

Epeok, BB it waxes, of a 
Why liid tlio' Klne dwell o 



t ft^r, T 



Heard on the winding watt 

She klES'd ma aayliig thou 

child, * 

As a klng'a son, and often In he 
She bare me, pacing on tlia 

Would aha had drowu'd ue 

where'er it bet 
For what am I ? what proSta [ 

Of gieaieal knight? I foughl for li 

Plea 



WlialBhouldbaheat, 1£ not H. pure a 

Blie fall'd to bind, Iho' behie, oa I 
Unbound as yet. and gentle, ai I 


These bon<U that ao defsmo ma* i.m 
without 

I pray him, aond a sudden AnKl do" 
To seiiB me by the bnlr auilTjesi Ua 

And fling me deep lii that forBoHiO 

Amonu the _tuinh!od fniBnientJ ot Uw 


And Lancelot answer'd nothing, hut 

Andattheiiirnnnlngnf a little brook 
Silt by the river in a tove, and WKtch'd 



Bo gronn'd Sir Lancelot in teiMBi- 
tul pain, 
Sot kuowlug he ahoulddle a holy mill, 



THE HOLT ORAIU 

Frou ncdaeful arma, and acta oF ptov-. 

In tounianiBiit or Ult, Sir Peralnl*. 
Whom Arthur and hia knlibthooi 

call'd The Pure. 
Had psa»'d Into the allent life «( 

Praise, fait, and alma; and leOTln| 



And one, a fellow-monk amoni tlM 
.mbroalui. loved Mm nucli twjoad 



■Ml 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



211 



jLnd honor'd him, and livrought into 
his heart 

A way by love that waken'd love with- 
in, 

To answer that which came : and as 
they sat 

Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darken- 
ing half 

The cloisters, on a gnstful April mom 

That pulT'd the swaying branches into 
smoke 

Above them, ere the summer when he 
died, 

The monk Amhrosius questioned Perci- 
vale: 

**0 hrother, I have seen this yew- 
tree smoke. 
Spring after spring, for half a hundred 

years: 
For never have I known the world 

without. 
Nor ever stray 'd beyond the pale: but 

thee, 
When first thou camest—such a cour^ 

tesy 
Spake thro* the limbs and in the 

voice— I knew 
For one of those who eat in Arthur's 

liall; 
For good ye are and bad, and like to 

coinc-, 
Some true, some light, but every one 

of you 
Stamped with the imago of the King ; 

and now 
Tell me, what drove thee from the 

Table Hound, 
My brother? was it earthly passion 

crost?" 

«*Nay," said the knight; "for no 
such passion mine. 

But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail 

Drove me from all vainglories, rival- 
ries. 

And earthly heats. that spring and 
sparkle out 

Among us in the jousts, while women 
watch 

Who wins, who falls ; and waste the 
spiritual strengtb 

Within us, better oner'd up to Hea- 
ven," 

To "Whom the monk : " The Holy 

Grail !— I trust 
Wo are green in Heaven's eyes ; but 

here too much 
We moulder— as to things without I 

mean — 
Yet one of your own knights, a guest 

of ours. 
Told us of this in our refectory. 
But spake with such a sadness and so 

low 
We heanl not half of what he said. 

What is it ? 
The phantom of a cup that comes and 

goes?'* 



** Nay, monk ! what phantom ?" an- 

swer'd Percivale. 
''The cup, the cup itself, from which 

our Lord 
Drank at the last sad supper with his 

own. 
This, from the blessed land of Aromat-^ 
After the day of darkness, when the 

dead 
Went wandering o'er Moriah— the 

good saint, 
Arimathsean Joseph, journeying 

brought 
To Glastonbury, where the winter 

thorn 
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our 

Lord. 
And there awhile it bode ; and if a 

man 
Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at 

once, 
By faith, of all his ills. But then the 

times 
Grew to such evil that the holy cup 
Was caught away to Heaven, and dis- 

appear'd." 

To whom the monk : ** From our old 
books I know 

That Joseph came of old to Glaston- 
bury, 

And there the heathen Prince, Arvira- 



fir- 



Gave him an isle of marsh whereon to 
build ; 

And there he built with wattles from 
the marsh 

A little lonely church in days of yore, 

For so they say, tbese books of ours, 
but seem 

Muto of this miracle, far as I have 
read. 

But who first saw the holy thing to- 
day?" 



**A woman," answer'd Percivale, 

"a nun, 
And one no further off in blood from 

me 
Than sister ; and if ever holy maid 
With knees of adoration wore the 

stone, 
A holy maid; tho* never maiden glow'd. 
But tliat was in her earlier maiden- 
hood, 
With such a fervent flame of human 

love. 
Which being rudely blunted, glanced 

and shot 
Only to holy things ; to prayer and 

praise 
She gave herself, to fast and alms. 

And yet. 
Nun as she was, the scandal of the 

Court, 
Sin iu;ainst Arthur and the Table 

Hound, 
And the strange sound of an adultex^ 

ous race. 
Across the iron grating of het cell 



t 



i 



312 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

B«it, anil she pmy'd and taated nil the 

" And be lo wliom tlio to1<1 licr liiiB, 

Har all but utiec ivli1t«iieiie held toi 

A mitiiwetlnlglinbunclredwlnienoldi 
Spako ofWii wltli herot lUa Holy Urnll. 

And eocli n[ tlie«e a liaudied nlutera 

old. 
From our Lord'I tlma. Alld nhcn 

His Table KoDiiO, aud all men's lieoctB 

Clean [or a eeuon, aurely lie liod 

thouBbt 
Tliatnowflie Hoi; GnO! noold come 






■OFatlieil' nslEedUiomnlilaii, ' 

It come 
TomebyDraj-erandfaBIijlg?' ■ 



She nilgtit bave A^len and Hi 

"Fot on A day nho Bcnl 
witli nis. 

lier eyes 
Bejond my kHowliiB of tbc 

Bayond all knowlne of thar 

Beaulltu'l In the Uebt of hnllm 
And'O niv '--■'— - — '— 
uUd, 



' Sweet brotho; 

Qcail : 
For, waked at 



I hSTB seen tbe Holy 
sad of nigbt, I board a. 



by toDouliEbti 
a dlelance beyond itlstanco 
baip nor 
^Vi'l we blow wHb 



Ab from a dlelance beyond 

KNor niigiil we blow with 1 
loach wltb band, 
^Bs like that muBla oh it ci 
fitreain'il thro' my cell a 
allver beam. 
And down the long beam 
Holy Grail. 
Roee-red with beatlngt In 






Till all a,o whILe wall! nf ray cell VMI 

'With Toay colon leaping on the wdl: 
And then Uia mUElo faded, and Uu 

FasB'd, and the benm deeay'd, lut 

Tlio loay qulvetiuga died Into 

So now the Holy Tblnn is here ii 
AmoiiB US, broUier, faM Ihou too 

And tall tiiy brolher knights to fill' 

That «o pBrthaiicB lOie viaiou may U 

By thee and those, all Uia wi 



To all ni 






indor lluit woulil 



knight; and none, 
In BO yonng youth, was 

knlghi 
TillOalaEad; and tills Gj 

be heaiti 
MTBlsWr'HTiilon.tin'dnii 
Ula eyes becaiue no 

Here, ami himsell 



Iier owu, I 

brotbet n 



"Sister or broUicr Kone had bei bBl 

Call-d liim a sou of Lancelot, an' 

Bald 
BeBoltan by eiichanlmcnt— ihatterurt 

Like birdB of pasBace piping np and 

Tliat. gape toe flies — wo kiio 

s LauculDt wnnderiiiisly 






Bhe, the wan cwect n 

from her forehead all 

ealtli of hair 

made H tilken mat-worli far bei 

I of this Bbe plaited bna 

Lg iword'holt, and wovB wUli 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



813 



And crimson In the belt a strange 

device* 
A crimson grail within a silver beam : 
And saw the bright boy-knight, and 

bound it on him, 
Saying, *My Icnight, my love, my 

knight of heaven, 
O then, my love, whose love -is one 

with mine, 
I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my 

belt. 
Oo forth, for thou shalt see what I 

have seen. 
And break thro' all, till one will crown 

thee king 
Far in the spintual city : * and as she 

spake 
She sent the deathless passion in her 

eyes 
Thro' him, and made him hers, and 

laid her mind 
On him, and he believed in her belief. 

*'Then came a year of miracle: O 
brother. 

In our great hall there stood a vacant 
chair, 

Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away. 

And carven with strange ligures ; and 
in and out 

The flffures. like a serpent, ran a scroll 

Ot letMri* in a tongue no man could 
read. 

And Merlin caird it < The Siege peril- 
ous,* 

Perilous for good and ill ; 'for there,* 
he said, 

*Ko man could sit but he should lose 
himself : ' 

And once by misadvertencc Merlin sat 

In his own chair, and so was lost ; but 
he, 

Galahad, when he heard of Merlin*s 
doom. 

Cried, * If I lose myself I save my- 
self !* 

** Then on a summer night it came 

to pass, 
Willie the great banquet lay along the 

hall. 
That Galahad would sit down in Mer- 

lin*s chair. 

** And all at once, as there we sat, 

we heard 
A cracking and a riving of the roofs, 
Aiul rending, and a blast, and over- 
head 
Thunder, and in tlie thunder was a 

cry. 
And in the blast there smote along the 

hall 
A beam of light seven times more clear 

than day : 
And down the long beam stole the 

Holy Grail 
All over cover'd with a luminous 

cloud, 
And none might see who bare it, and 

it past. 



But every knight beheld his fellow*s 

face 
As in a glory, and all the knights 

arose, 
And staring each at other like dumb 

men 
Stood, till I found a voice and sware a 

vow. 

** I sware a vow before them all, that 

I. 
Because I had not seen the Groil, 

would ride 
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of 

it. 
Until I found and saw it, as the nun 
My sister saw it; and Galahad sware 

the vow. 
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's 

cousin, sware, 
And Lancelot sware, and many among 

the knights, 
And Gawain sware, and louder than 

the rest." 

Then spake the monk Ambrosius, 
asking him, 
''What said the King? IMd Arthur 
take the vow ? *' 

** Nay, for my lord,** said Percivale^ 
" the king, 
Was not in hall : for early that some 

flay, 
Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit 

hold. 
An outraged maiden sprang into the 

liall 
Crying on help : for all her shining 

hair 
Was sniear'd with cartli, and either 

milky arm 
Bed-rent with hooks of bramble, and 

all she wore 
Tom as a soil that leaves the rope is 

torn 
In tempest: so the king arose and 

went 
To smoke the scandalous hive of those 

wild bees 
That made such honey in his realm. 

Ilowbeit 
Some little of this marvel he too ssw, 
Ketuming o'er the plain that tlieu 

began 
To darken under Camelot; whence the 

king 
Look'd up, calling aloud, * Lo there I 

the roofs 
Of our great hall are rolled in thunder- 
smoke I 
Pray Heaven, they be not smitten by 

the bolt.* 
For dear to Arthur was that hall of 

ours, 
As havinff there so oft with all his 

knights 
Feasted, and as the stateliest under 

heaven. 



r 



\ 



TUB HOLY GRAIL. 






tho ncred iriosnt nr Caivflli 
I I1.B dim rloli fliy. rnnl hj-f. 
Lp!rBl»joiiil»p 



CUmbs loThe mlglitv hall Uist Merlin 
And four ereat lonnB ol aculplure, cat 
WIUi losny a mystic symbol, glnl Uio 
Audlii Ibe lowoBt bcaala are riayliig 
And in Uie aecond men are alaylnB 
I And on the third ace wsrrion. perfect 



1 naak'd 
KorUiei 



by Merlin, wicb a 
'a vringa pointed to the 



I And both tbe winaa bib niadeoTBOtd, 
'- and flame 

iinrise till tbs peop] e in far flelcis, 
, ...-tadaoottenbythebfathenhordw, 
I Bebold it, crying, ' We bave sLiU a 

And, brother, bad you known our 
, haU wiLbi.T. 

I Brooder and Liglier than any in all 



Arthui 

1 all Ibe 

board 



light that fallB npon flu 
'ClTe great battlai 



■WeaUliy with » 



And blank ; and vho shall blsaoa it : 

when and hem 7 — 
O thers perahance, when all our wan 



io to Uiia liall full quickly roda tho 

King, 
lorror lest the work by Meilli 

wrought, 
imlike. alipuld on tho sudden Tan 



Tba golden dragon et 



Tkliog. 



IT all! 



Darken 



luBo Hho bniui lUe hoidt 

Ilack'd. anil their loteheadi grlmad 

Follow'd, audiu 'otnong bright laut, 

Full oClhDTlelon, preat: aniltbentbt 

King 
Spake to me, being neatest, 'Feret 

Vowing, and some protestlDe>> ' *1>I' 

" O brothsr. wbon I told him wlui 
hul cbani-tid. 
My alsler'a ilalou, and the rtat, Ui 

have Been It mora UUB 

cave deed aeein'd U t« 

i.iin. 

Woe la me, my Intlghli,* 

je bod not nnoi 

Bald was mluo BJISwer, ' Had IhyHlt 

My King, thou'woaldst I 

' Yea, yea," aaid ho, 
' Art thou BO bold aod hi 

the Grail 7' 



"Than when ho asked ua, knight bf 
knight, it any ^ 

Had Been it, all their anaweiB were U 

' Say, Lord, and theretora hkT* w» 






•"Ijt, now,' >ald Ai 

Been a cloud? 

What go ye into the will 

"Then Galahad on t 

ShrilliL'S; 



hall I 



' But I. Sir Attlinr, saw tha HolyflraU. 

I saw the Holy OratI and hr- - ■ - — 

OGalahnd,aiidO Galahad, 

" ' Ah, Galahad. Calulind,' laid llw 

Ivlng. -lOTBUCh 

xiiy holy nun and thou hata • 

slcn— 
Holier IB none, my ParolT«I«, 

A sign lo maim tlila Order which [ 

But ynu. that follow but thi 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



815 



(Brother, the King was hard upon his 
kiiightB) 

' Taliessiii is our fullest throat of iK>ne, 

And one hath sung and all the dunu) 
will siiig. 

Lancelot is XjEtncelot, and hath over- 
borne 

Five knights at once, and every young- 
er knight. 

TJnproven, holds himself as Lancelot, 

Till overborne by one,hc leanis—andye, 

What are ye ? Galahads ?— no, nor Per- 
civales * 

(For thus it pleased the King to range 
nie close 

After Sir Galahad) ; * nay,* said he, * but 
men 

With strength and will to right the 
wronjfd, of power 

To lay the sudden heads of violence fiat, 

Knlgnts that in twelve great battles 
splash'd and dyed 

The strong White Horse in his own 
heathen blood — 

But one hath seen, and all the blind 
will see. 

GtOf since your vows are sacred, being 
made : 

Yet— for ye know the cries of all my 
realm 

Pass thro' this hall— how often, O my 
knights, 

Your places being vacant at my side, 

This chance of noble deeds will come 
and go 

Tnchallenged, while you follow wan- 
dering fires 

Lost in the quagmire ? Many of you, 
yea roost, 

Betum no more : ye think I show my- 
self 

Too dark a prophet : come now, let us 
meet 

The morrow mom once more in one full 
field 

Of gracious pastime, that once more the 
King, 

Before you leave him for this Quest, 
may count 

The yet-unbroken strength of all his 
knights, 

Bejoicing in that Order which he made.' 

** So when the sun broke next from 

under ground. 
All the great table of our Arthur closed 
And clash'd in such a tourney and so 

full. 
So many lances broken— never yet 
Had Camelot seen the like, since Arthur 

came. 
And I myself and Galahad, for a 

strength 
Was in us from the vision, overthrew 
So manv knights that all the people 

cried, 
And almost burst the barriers in their 



*' But when the next day brake from 

under ground — 

O brother, had you known our Camelot, 

Built by old kings, ace after nge, so old 

The Kins himself had fears that ic 

would fall. 
So strange, and rich, and dim; for 

where the roofs 
Totter'd toward each other in the sky. 
Met foreheads all along the street of 

those 
Who watch'd us pass ; and lower, and 

where the long 
Rich galleries, lady^aden, weigh'd the 

necks 
Of drAgons clinging to the crazv walls, 
Thicker than drops from thunder, 

showers of fiowers 
Fell as we past; and men and boys 

astride 
On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan. 
At all the comers, named us each by 

name, 
Calling * God speed ! ' but in the street 

below 
The knishts and ladies wept, and rich 

and poor • 

Wept, and the King himself could 

hardly speak 
For grief, and in the middle street th« 

Queen, 
Who rode by Lancelot, wail'd and 

shriek'd aloud, 
' This madness has come on us for our 

sins.' 
And then we reach'd the weirdly-sculp- 
tured gate. 
Where Arthur's wars were render'd 

mystically. 
And thence departed every one his 

way. 

'And I was lifted up in heart, and 

thought 
Of all my late-shown prowess in the 

lists, 
How my strong lance had beaten 

down the knights. 
So many and famous names ; and never 

yet 
Had heaven appear'd so blue, nor earth 

so green. 
For all my blood danced in me, and I 

knew 
That I should light upon the Holy 

Grail. 

** Thereafter, the dark warning of our 
King, 

That most of us would follow wander- 
ing fires. 

Came like a driving gloom across my 
mind. 

Then every evil word I had spoken 
once. 

And every evil thought I had thought 
of old. 



heat. And every evil deed I ever did, 

Shouting 'Sir Galahad and SirPerci- Awoke and cried, * This Quest is not for 
vue I ' ' thttQ.' 



ni THE nor. 



WodU •Uf BIO. ■■• a«p li 



t back Dpoa tb« sloping 



Fallen, and on Uie tawu. ' J will ittc 

here,- 
1 aijd, ■ 1 am tiot wonhj oC the Qnnt ; ' 
But Eien vlule I dnak Lbe brouk, anil 

The gaoiOT apples, all these thing* at 

Fell into™ mt, and I n> Mt alone, 
i ttaiminft ill » land of aaujand 

And then beboM a voman at a door 
niilng : and tair the hoosa whereby 

And Iclnd the woman's eyes Bad hino- 

And all her bearing giacioBB ; and she 



' Re«e here 
lo! bI 

Fen mio d 



In tt a deadbabe : 
] into duat, and 1 wa 
And on I rode, and j 



broken i>hed. 



ih-d a ;eIlo« 



torld. 



te the plonghaharo in 



le ploushmau left hia ploughing, a 

ifore it; where it Elitter'U o]i li 

nail, 
le nAllmuud left bei milkliig, and f> 

•.lore It. and I Itncw not whf , l 

lie Bun iB riking,- tlio' Ibe sun h 
Then vat I irare of one tlmt on i 



Betng BO huge. But v: 



And up 1 went ami toiidL'd ldni,ii 



ilUioughlte^H 

^""•■^! I! 



" And 1 rode □: 
hill, 



il found a 



Andoi.. 
PniU'd 






fdiblfl ifliinaclflkl 
gatevBf atirr'd a cron 
Cried io me elimblng, ■ Weloom*. ft 
TliDu mlghilest and thou pnnol uea 
Andfflad waatoud clomb,hat fooi 
any voice. Anilliiainl 






I had a 



iM 



OnlToneman o ., .,_.. 

' WbeteialluitgDodlxcompaiir/i^t, 
'That BO crteil out upon toar'aadh 



leitT.andl 



' n^ence and what art tbou I ' sikl nta 



,,Fft 



II waa^eK 



The lileheat virtue, nii 
For when the Lord ol 

Himself 

KBked of elory for Hi« Rinrlat etuuuK> I 
■'Take thou my robe," she Mdd.-Toll 

all is Ihiiw," " 

And all her form ehone forth wllhni 

lion light 

Follow'dhim down, and Ukaaflflntl 

Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom 

But her thou hut uotklWiwu : fu 
^Bthla 



THE MOLY GRAIL. 



317 



Dion thonglitett of thy prowess and thy 

sins ? 
Thou hast not lost thyself to save thy- 
self 
As Galahad.' When the hermit made 

an end, 
In silver armor suddenly Galahad 

shone 
Before us, and against the chapel door 
I^id lance, and enter'd, and we knelt 

in prayer. 
And there the hermit slaked my burn- 
ing thirst 
And at the sacring of the mass I saw s 
The holy elements alone ; but he : 
* Saw ye no more ? I, Galahad, saw the 

Grail, 
The Holy Grail, descend upon the 

shrine : 
I saw the ilery face as of a child 
That smote itself into the bread, and 

went ; 
And hither am I come ; and never yet 
Hath what thy sister taught me first to 

see. 
This Holy Thing, faiPd from my side, 

nor come 
Cover'd, but movhig with me night and 

day. 
Fainter by day, but always in the night 
Blood-red, and sliding down the black- 

en'd marsh 
Blood-red, and on the naked mountain 

top 
Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere be- 
low 
Blood-red. And in the strength of this 

I rode, 
Shattering all evil customs everywhere. 
And past thro' Pagan realms, and made 

them mine. 
And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and 

bore them down. 
And brake thro' all, and in the strength 

of this 
Come victor. But my time is hard at 

hand. 
And hence I go ; and one will crown me 

king 
Far in the spiritual city, and come thou, 

too. 
For thou Shalt see the vision when I go.' 

'* "While thus he spake, his eye, dwell- 
ing on mine, 
Drew me, with power upon me, till I 

grew. 
One with him, to believe as he believed. 
Then, when the day began to wane, we 
went. 

** There rose a hill that none but man 
could climb. 

Scarr*d with a hundred wintry water- 
courses — 

Storm at the top, and when we gain'd 
it, storm 

Bound us and death ; for every moment 

f [lanced 
^ ver arms and gloom*d : so quick 
and thick 



The lightnings hero and there to left 

and right 
Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, 

dead, 
Yea, rotten with a hundred years of 

deatb, 
Sprang into ilre : and at the base we 

lound 
On either hand, as far as eye could see. 
A great black swamp and of an evil 

smell. 
Part black , part whiten'd with the bones 

of men, 
Not to be crost, save that some ancient 

king 
Had built a way, where, link'd with 

many a bridge, 
A thousand piera ran into the great sea. 
And Galahad lied along them bridge by 

bridge. 
And every bridge as quickly as he crost 
Sprang into tire and vanish'd, tho' I 

yearn'd 
To follow; and thrice above him all 

the heavens 
Open'd and blazed with thunder such 

as seeni'd 
Shoutings of all the sons of God : and 

first 
At once I saw him far on the great sea,* 
In silver-shining armor starry-clear ; 
And o'er his head the holy vessel hung 
Clothed in white samite or a luminous 

cloud. 
And with exceeding swiftness ran the 

boat 
If boat it were—I saw not whence it 

came. ' 
And when the heavens open*d and 

blazed again 
Boaring, I saw him like a silver star— 
And had he set the sail, or had the boat 
Become a living creature clad with 

wings? 
And o'er his head the holy vessel hung 
Kedder than any rose, a joy to me, 
For now I knew the veil had been with- 
drawn. 
Then in a moment when theyblazeil 

again 
Opening, I saw the least of little stara 
Down on the waste, and straight l>eyond 

the star 
I saw the spiritual city and all her spires 
And gateways in a glory like one pearl- 
No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints- 
Strike from the sea ; and from the star 

there shot 
A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there 
Dwelt.and I knew it was the Holy Grail, 
Which never eyes on earth again shall 

see. 
Then fell the flootls of heaven drown- 
ing the deep. 
And how my feet recross'd the deatli- 

ful ridge 
No memory in me lives ; but that I 

touch'd 
The chapel-doors at dawn I know ; and 

thence 



V 



1 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



^ 



Ttlcing taj vu-bon* troni tlie hoi; 
Qladthat eo pluimom Text me more 
To whence I came, tbe gitLe »t Arthai'i 

" O brother," mk'd Ambroslu*,- 

Theia ancleiit books— ojid tbej wouU 

OnlTl Hud iiDt there thla Hoi; Orall. 
With miniele* end mstveL. Uke it 

rwbkhoft 



M'horeodbv 

Till ray he«< 

andpB 

Down to ibi 



fulk 



And BTery bonialy 
Dellshl mj'telt wlU 
And IUb an'd schca, DUd 
Andmlrtbful uyUigs, r'. 



CUnSerliiga and ci 

oC mine, 
Yea, oven in the] 



wUhpsse 
>wini»; anu men go fortl 

little tborpa Ibit lies b< 

plaater'd Uko a nanjn' 

nilugle i.it! 

ig' BTery boncst foee o 

ever ebeplierd knew bl 

In tbcl 






uinga, ly- 
a league 



Tbcn.SlrPorclvnle 



■Why wilt tbou >bBme ma 


loeont™ 


How fa 


rlhadlalnwni 


my quest ai 


A^bo'dJ. 


nyjiigbl.^^ 


In craw 


aiidbutUockpIi. 


Biebuueed 


And u. 


Bgre, and the vl.lon bad B 


45K 


e^'eaTdwoU^^g 


■.•ffiB 



The Peine 



Thither I made, and Iben wu 1 dl» 

arra'd 
Bt nmidens each as f^r u any tlatti; 
tulbey^iod mo inin bBJl.bfhoW 

Mode mybenrtleDp*, for when I duiih] 
A Blonder page about her father'ilill. 
Went after bor with louguig ; yel *i 
Had never kiB>,>d a klu, or TOH'd i 



Andnf 



one hod wedded ber, and he i 
And all hlB land and wealth and it 
And wbilo I tarried, erery day (he Ml 
By me ; for all ber IoubIiik ami bi 
Wae toward me aa of old ; Ull ene ttl 



walk, 

I calllne . 

fcniahte, 



tS me, and 
heraolf ai 



Wltb auppllcati 

■ We bavo hMrJ 
ereaien k 



!nllber»eelllil» 

I flillow «1 

J 111 m; lictK 



dialt be aa Atthur jn our 
rolberl bnt one uleht mf 



ind wept, and bated mliu 
e HnlyQaeBl, uidall bo 



Then said Ibe monk, "Poor nua, 
wben yute Is cold, 
MUBt bo eouienc lo ait by ]ilU» Urea, 

And Ibf» am I, so that yo ' 

HiciwUlUe i yea, ■uil'bl 



THE HOLY GRAIL, 



819 



/ 



That brought thee here to thi3 poor 

house of ours. 
Where all the brethren are so hard, to 

warm 
My cold heart with a friend : batO the 

pity 

To find thine own first love once more 
—to hold, 

Hold her a wealthy bride within thine 
arms. 

Or all but hold, and then— cast her 
aside, 

Foregoing all her sweetness, like a 
wew. 

For we that want the warmth of double 
life, 

We that are plagued with dreams of 
something sweet 

Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich.— 

Ah, blessed Lord, I speak too earthly- 
wise, 

Seeing I never stray*d beyond the cell, 

But liYe like an old badger in his earth. 

With earth about him everywhere, de- 
spite 

All fast and penance. Saw ye none 
beside, 

None of your knights?" 

** Yea so," said Percivale : 
** One night my pathway swerving east, 

I saw 
The pelican on the casque of our Sir 

Bors 
All in the middle of the rising moon : 
And toward him spurr'd and hail'd 

him, and he me, 
And each made joy of either ; then he 

ask*d, 
'Where is he? hasttliou seen him— 

Lancelot?* *Once,* 
Said good Sir Bors, * he dasb'd across 

me — ^mad, 
And maddening what he rode : and 

when I cried, 
*' Ridest thou then so hotly on a quest 
So hotly?" Lancelot shouted, *< Stay 

me not ! 
I have been the sluggard, and I ride 

apace, 
For now there is a lion in Ihe way." 
Sovanish'd.' 

*• Then Sir Bors had ridden on 
Softly, and sorrowing for our Lancelot, 
Because his former madness, once the 

talk 
And scandal of our table, had re- 

tum*d ; 
For Lancelot's kith and kin so veorship 

him 
That ill to him is ill to them : to Bors 
Beyond the rest: he well had been 

content 
Not to have seen, so Lancelot might 

have seen. 
The Holy Cup of healing ; and, indeed, 
Being so clouded with his grief and 

love. 
Small heart was his after the Holy 

Qaw(: 



If God would send the vision, well : if 

not, 
The Quest and he were in the hands of 

heaven. 

<'And then, with small adventure 

met, Sir Bors 
Bode to the lonest tract of all the 

realm, 
And found a people there among their 

crag$. 
Our race and blood, a remnant that 

were left 
Payiiim amid their circles, and the 

stones 
They pitch up straight to heaven ; and 

their wise men 
Were strong in that old magic which 

can trace 
The wandering of the stars, and scoff 'd 

at him 
At this high Quest as at a simple 

thing : 
Told him he follow'd— almost Arthur's 

words — 
A mocking fire : ' what other fire than 

he. 
Whereby the blood beats, and the 

blossom blows, 
And the sea rolls, and all the world is 

warm'd?* 
And when his answer chafed them, the 

rough crowd. 
Hearing he had a difference with their 

piiests, 
Seized him, and bound and plunged 

him into a cell 
Of great piled stones; and lying 

bounden tliere 
In darkness thro' innumerable hours 
He heard the hollow-ringing heavens 

sweep 
Over him, till by miracle— what else ?— 
Heavy as it was, a great stone slipt and 

fell. 
Such as no wind could move: and 

thro' the gap 
Glimmer'd the streaming scud : then 

came a night 
Still as the day was loud ; and thro' 

the gap 
The seven clear stars of Arthur's Table 

Round— 
For, brother, so one night, because 

they roll 
Thro' such around in heaven, we named 

the stars. 
Rejoicing iji ourselves and in our king— 
And these, like bright eyes of familiar 

friends, 
In on him shone, < And then to me, to 

me.' 
Said good Sir Bors, * beyond all hopes 

of mine, 
Who scarce had pray'd or ask'd it for 

myself— 
Across the seven clear stars— O grace 

tome — 
In color like the fingers of a liand 
Before abuxxkixig\&iV^x»Oskftv««fiX^Td&\ 



N 
b 

y 



k tliDiKler. 

LolyfaltU; 
DiiUiiug, looaea AUiTlet liii 



THK UULY GRAIL. 

ng tilt 
kliigs 



To whom the monk ; " And 



Wlio ipoks 
Andmlelitj'rf 



d utdl)' Bt out 
■ oat grace wb» 



An out,l<«r ilen ot all t 

-nitliln. 
Smiled with Lis lips— a rsu 



Ay, ST. Sir Bon, wbo i 

(>e narh'd 
ly, loundyo all 



B >ootl> In Arthur's ] 



"iS"' 



But sit nilbin tbo Louse. 

loarli'd 
TUB city, our boraes Btnn 

OnheupBOf rnln. 



Who, wbi 
SHyiHg,'"' 



On bill, c 
Bo OeTue 



llBks, ondeplinterd cDi:k- 
tlec'd taltMts, nblch Imd left 

3t thtvy fell Itom, brought ub tu 

Bhali: 

there sat ATtbuc on tha dsTa- 

■e UiaC bad £udo out Dpon the 

*e ihat bad not, tiooS beforo 

B King. 

lien be uv me, mae, and bade 

some dliutioui otauce foi 
' plAln, at Hea, or fioodirL^ 
. gala uailo bbiiK h«ia at 



ilcvtiMw ot our 

itrongcc ball at 

Andfrom'lho >taWe Morlln mooUrt 

tor la 
Uair-wronch'dagoldenBins; bntnm 

Thla Tlalon 

n«'pL 
nry?' 

" So whan I lold him all IhneU butt 

Ambroslu«,'B"d my freah lint (Lit » 

To piBB away into Ibe noleC life, 
lleanBwer'd not, but, Uutrply iiinilii[, 



' Bald Gavnln, 'ni 
mmuncd with a tainllf 



Buttound n silk juiTlllon in a Held, 

Tors my pavilion from thalenlfng-plB, 
with ail dlBcomEort ; yea, ujid but lot 
My twalvemonth HndadBiy<tet«plH>- 

" He i!eaied ; nnd Arthur tnrn'd W 
whom at Hnt 

"" "poBh'd"'"' ^'"^ ^'"*' °" ""^"^ 
Athwart the throna to Lancelot, ctgcbt 

hie hand. 
Held It, and there, half-bidden by bin. 

Until Ibe king espied him, saying M 

' Hall, Bon ! U over loyal man and 

Could see It. thouhast soon the Ciall.' 



•' Then there remsln'd but Lancelot, 
for Ibe rSBt 
Spake but at sundry petlli li 




THE HOLY GRAIL. 



21 



** ' Oar mishtlest^ ' answer*d Lance- 
lot, with a gix>an ; 
O King ! '—and when he paiued, me- 

thought I spied 
K dying lire ot madness in his eyes — 
*0 King* my friend, if friend of thine 

Happier are tliose that welter in tlieir 

sin, 
Swine in the road, that cannot see for 

slime. 
Slime of the ditch : but in me lived a 

sin 
So sti'ange, of such a kind, that all of 

pure. 
Noble, and knightly in me twined and 

clung 
Round that one sin, until the whole- 
some flower 
And poisonous grew together, each as 

each. 
Not to be pluck 'd asunder ; and when 

tliy knights 
Sware, I sware with them only in the 

hope 
That could I touch or see th6 Holy 

Grail 
They might be pluck'd asunder. Then 

I spake 
To one most holy saint, who wept and 

said. 
That save tliey could be pluck' d asun- 
der, all 
My quest were but In vain ; to whom I 

vow'd 
That I would work according as he 

wiird. 
And forth I went, and while I yeam'd 

and strove 
To tear the twain asunder in my heart, 
My madness came upon me as of old. 
And whipt me into waste fields far 

away; 
There was 1 beaten down by little men. 
M^fui knights, to whom the . moving of 

my sword 
And shadow of my spear had been enow 
To scare them from me once ; and then 

I came 
All in my folly to the naked shore, 
Wide flats, where nothing but coarse 

grasses crew ; 
But such a blast, my King, began to 

blow. 
So loud a blast along the shore and 

sea. 
Ye could not hear the waters for the 

blast, 
Tho' heapt in mounds and ridges all 

the sea 
Drove like a cataract, and all the sand 
Swept like a river, and the clouded 

heavens 
Were shaken with the motion and the 

sound. 
And blackening in the sea-foam sway*d 

a boat, 
Half-Bwallow'd iu it, anchored with a 

chain; 
And in my madness to myself I said 



"I will embark and I will lose myeell 
And in the great sea wash away my sin. 
I burst the chain, I sprang into th 

boat. 
Seven days I drove along the dreary 

deep. 
And with me drove the moon and all 

the stars ; 
And the wind fell, and on the seventh 

night 
I heard the shingle grinding in the 

surge. 
And felt the boat shock earth, and 

looking up. 
Behold, the enciianted towers of Car- 

bonek, 
A castle like a rock upon a rock, 
With chasm-like portals oi>en to the 

sea, 
And steps that met the breaker ! there 

was none 
Stood near it but a lion on each side 
That kept the entr\', and the moon was 

full. 
Then from the boat I leapt, and up the 

stairs. 
There drew my sword. With sudden^ 

flaring manes 
Those two great beasts rose upright 

like a man. 
Each gript a shoulder, and I stood be- 
tween ; 
And, when I would have smitten them, 

heard a voice, 
<< Doubt not, go forward; if thou 

doubt, the beasts 
Will tear thee piecemeal." Then with 

violence 
The sword was dash*d from out my 

hand, and fell. 
And up into the sounding hall I past ; 
But nothing in the sounmns hall I saw 
No bench nor table, painting on the 

wall 
Or shield of knight ; only the rounded 

moon 
Thro* the tall oriel on the rolling sea. 
But always in the quiet house I heard, 
Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark, 
A sweet voice singing in the topmost 

tower 
To the eastward : up I climb*d a thou- 
sand steps 
With pain : as in dream I seem'd to 

climb 
For ever : at the last I reach'd a door, 
A light was in the cramiies, and I 

heard, 
" Glory and joy and honor to our Ix)rd 
And to the Holy Vessel of the Grail." 
Then in my madness I essayed the 

door: 
It gave ; and thro* a stormy glare* a 

heat 
As from a seventimes-heated furnace, 

I. 
Blasted and burnt, and blinded as I 

was. 
With such a fierceness that I swoon*d 
away— 



t 




PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



326 



HU lady loved him, and lie knew 

himself 
Loved of the King : and him his new- 
made knight 
Worehipt, whose lightest whisper 

moved him more 
Than all the ranged reasons of the 

world. 

Then hlu8h*d and brake the morning 

of the Jousts, 
And this was call'd ** The Tournament 

of Youth:" 
For Arthur, loving his young knight, 

withheld 
His older and his mightier from the 

lists, 
That Pelleas might obtain his lady's 

love. 
According to her promise, and remain 
Lord of the tourney. And Arthur 

had the jousts 
I>own in the flat Held by the shore of 

Usk 
Holden: the gilded parapets were 

crown'd 
With faces, and the great tower filVd 

with eyes 
Up to the summit, and the trumpets 

blew. 
There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the 

fleld 
With honor: so by that strong hand 

of his 
The sword and golden circlet were 

achieved. 

Then rang tho shout his lady loved : 

the heat 
Of pride and glory fired her face ; her 

eye 
Sparkled ; she caught the circlet from 

his lance. 
And there before the people crown'd 

herself. 
So for the last time she was gracious 

to him. 

Then at Caerleon for a space— her 

look 
Bright for all others, cloudier on her 

kniffht— 
Lingered Ettarre : and seeing Pelleas 

droop. 
Said Guinevere, *^ We marvel at thee 

much, 
O dnmsel, wearing this unsunny face 
To him who won thee glory ! ** And 

she said, 
<<Had ye not held your Lancelot in 

your bower. 
My Queen, he had not won.*' Whereat 

the Queen, 
Af one whose foot is bitten by an ant, 
Glanced down upon her, tuni'd and 

went her way. 

But after, when her damsels, and 
herself. 
And thoM three knights all set their 
faces home, 



/ 



Sir Pelleas foUow'd. She tliat saw 

him cried, 
" Damsels— and yet I should be shamed 

to say it — 
I cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him 

back 
Among yourselves. Would rather that 

we had 
Some rough old knight who knew the 

worldlv way, 
Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride 
And jest with : take him to you, keep 

him off, 
And pamper him with papmeat» if ye 

will, 
Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep. 
Such as the wholesome mothers tell 

their boys. 
Nay should ye try him with a merry 

one 
To find his mettle, good : and if he fly 

us. 
Small matter! let him." This her 

damsels heard. 
And mindful of her small and cruel 

hand. 
They, closing round him thro* the 

journey homo. 
Acted her hest, and always from her 

side 
Bestraiu'd him with all manner of 

device. 
So that he could not come to speech 

with her. 
And when she «iin'd her castle, up- 

sprang the oridge. 
Down rang the giate of iron thro' the 

groove. 
And he was left alone in open field. 

"These be the ways of ladies," Pel- 
leas thought, 

*'To those who love them, trials of 
our faith. 

Yea, let her prove me to the utter- 
most. 

For loyal to the uttermost am I." 

So made his moan ', and, darkness fall- 
ing, soueht 

A priory not ib.x off, there lodged, but 
rose 

With morning every day, and, moist 
or dry, 

FuU-arm'd upon his charger all day 
long 

Sat by the walls, and no one opeu'd to 
him. 

And this persistence tum'd her scorn 

to wrath. 
Then calling her three knights, she 

chareed them, "Out I 
And drive nim from the walls." And 

out they came, 
But Pelleas overthrew them as they 

dash'd 
Against him one by one ; and these 

return'd, 
Bnt still he kept his watch btneath 

the wall. 



n* 




PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



827 



Ana Pelleas answer'd, ** Lady, for in- 
deed 

I loved yoa and I deem*d you beauti- 
ful, 

I cannot 'brook to see your beauty 
marr'd 

Thro* evil spite : and if ye love me not, 

I cannot bear to dream you so for- 
sworn : 

I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, 

Than to be loved again of you— faie- 
well ; 

And tho* ye kill my hope, not yet my 
love. 

Vex not yourself : ye will not see me 



>* 



\ 



more. 

While thus he spake, she gazed upon 

the man 
Of princely bearing, tho* in bonds, and 

thought, 
«* Why have I push*d him from me ? 

this man loves, 
If love there be : yet him I loved not. 

Why? 
I deem'd him fool ? yea, so ? or that in 

him 
A something— was it nobler than my- 
self?— 
Seem*d my reproach ? He is not of my 

kind. 
He could not love me, did he know me 

well. 
Kay, let him go— and quickly." And 

her knights 
Laugh*d not. but thrust him bounden 

out of door. 

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed 

him from his bonds, 
And flung them o'er the walls ; and 

afterward. 
Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's 

rag, 
<* Faith of my body," he said, "and art 

thou not — 
Yea thou art he, whom late our Ar- 
thur made 
Knight of his table ; yea and he that 

won 
The circlet? wherefore hast thou so 

defamed 
Thy brotherhood in me and all the 

rest, 
As let these caitiffs on thee work their 

will?" 

And Pelleas answer'd, «0, their 
wills are hei*s 

For whom I won the circlet; and 
mine, hers, 

Tlius to be bounden. so to see her face, 

Marr'd tho' it be with spite and mock- 
ery now. 

Other than when I found her in the 
woods; 

And tho' she hath me bounden but in 
spite. 

And all to flout me, when they bring 
me, in, 



Let me be bounden, I shall see hel 

face ; 
Else must I die thro* mine unhappi- 

ness.'* 

And Gawain answer'd kindly tho' in 

scorn, 
*• Why, let my lady bind me if she will, 
And let my lady beat me if she will : 
But an she send her delegat-e to thrall 
These tiKhting hands of mine— Christ 

kiU me then 
But I will slice him handless by the 

wrist, 
And let my lady sear the stnmp for 

him, 
Howl as he may. But hold me for 

your friend : 
Come, ye know nothing : here I pledge 

my troth. 
Yea, by the honor of the Table Round, 
I will be leal to thee and work thy 

work. 
And tame thy jailing princess to thine 

hand. 
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I 

will say 
That I have slain thee. She will let 

me in 
To hear the manner of thy fight and 

fall ; 
Then, when I come within her coun- 
sels, then 
From prime to vespers will I chant thy 

praise 
As prowest knight and truest lover, 

more 
Than any have sung the living, till she 

lone 
To have tliee back in lusty life again» 
Not to be bound, save by white bonds 

and warm, 
Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now 

thy hcrse 
And armor : let me go : be comforted: 
Give me three days to melt her fancy, 

and hope 
The third night hence will bring thee 

news of gold." 

The Pelleas lent his horse and all his 

arms. 
Saving the goodly sword, his prize, and 

took 
Gawain's, and said, << Betray me not 

but help — 
Art thou not he whom men call light- 

of-love?" 

*« Ay," said Gawain, " for women bo 

so light." 
Then bounded forward to the castle 

walls, 
And raised a bugle hanging from his 

neck. 
And winded it, and that so musically 
That all the old echoes hidden in the 

wall 
Bang out like hollow woods at hon^ 

ing-tide. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



829 



Stared at bar towers that, larger than 

themselves 
In their own darkness, throng*d into 

the moon. 
Tlien crushed the saddle with his 

thighs, and clencli*d 
His hanc&, and madden'd with himself 

and moau'd : 

" Would they have risen against me 

in their blood 
At the last day? I might have au> 

Ewer'd them 
Even before high God. O towers so 

strong, 
Huge, solid, would that even while I 

gaze 
The crack of earthquake shivering to 

your base 
Split vou, and Hell burst up your 

harlot roofs 
Bellowing, and charr'd you thro* and 

thro' within, 
Black as the harlot's heart—hollow as 

a skull ! 
Let the fierce east scream thro* your 

eyelet-holes, 
And whirl the dust of harlots round 

and round 
In dung and nettles! hiss, snake — I 

saw him there — 
Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell. 

Who yells 
Here in the still sweet summer night, 

buti— 
I, the poor Pelleas whom she call*d her 

fool? 
Fool, beast— he, she, or I? myself 

most fool ; 
Beast too, as lacking human wit— dis- 
graced, 
Dishonor'd all for trial of true love- 
Love? — we be all alike: only the 

kine 
Hath made us fools and liars. O noble 

vows ! 

great and sane and simple race of 

brutes 
That own no lust because they have no 

law! 
For why should I have loved her to 

my shame? 

1 loathe her, as I loved her to my 

shame. 
I never loved her, I but lusted for her 
— Away — ** 

He dash'd the rowel into his horse. 
And bounded forth and vani^h'd tluo^ 
the night. 

Then she. that felt the cold touch on 

her throat. 
Awaking knew the sword, and tum'd 

herself 
To Gawain : ** Liar, for thou hast not 

slain 
Tliis Pelleas ! here he stood and might 

have slain 
Me and thyself." And he that tells 

thetal« 



Says that her ever-veering fancy tnm*d 
To Pelleas, as the one true knight on 

earth, 
And only lover ; and thro* her love her 

life 
Wasted and pined, desiring him in 

vain. 

But he by wild and way, for half the 

night. 
And over hard and soft, striking tlie 

sod 
From out the soft, the spark from off 

the hurU, 
Bode till the star above the wakening 

sun, 
Beside that tower where Percivale was 

cowl'd, 
Glanced from the rosy forehead of the 

dawn. , 
For so the words were ilash'd into his 

heart 
He knew not whence or wherefore : 

** O sweet star. 
Pure on the virgin forehead of the 

dawn.'* 
And there he would have wept, but 

felt his ejes 
Harder and drier than a fountain bed 
In summer : thither came the village 

girls 
And linger'd talking, and they come 

no more 
Till the sweet heavens have fill'dit 

from the heights 
Again with living waters in the change 
of seasons : hara his eyes ; harder lus 

heart 
Seem'd ; but so weary were his limbs, 

that he. 
Gasping, ** Of Arthur's hall am I, but 

here. 
Here let me rest and die,** cast himself 

down, 
And gulpli'd his griefs in inmost sleep ; 

so lay. 
Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain 

fired 
The hall of Merlin, and the morning 

star 
ReePd in the smoke, brake into flame, 

and fell. 

He woke, and being ware of some 
one nigh. 

Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, 
crying 

*' False ! and I held thee pure as Guin- 
evere.** 

But Percivale stood near him and 

replied, 
" Am I but false as Guinevere is pure 7 
Or art thou mazed with dreams? or 

being one 
Of our free-spoken Table hast not 

heard 
That Lancelot*'— there he check*d 

himself and paused. 

Then fared it with Sir Pelleas aa 
with ou« 



T 




PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



Wbo Estn n vannd in battle, and the 

Tliac made !t plnngei ttuo' tha wo- 

And pnukfl tt deeper : and he ahf 
and wallM. 



r Round Table held 



Ind Ilka a p^iono 
tnd blue the crimaoE Laneslot and 
' rimn»ernie/'BaldUuicelol, "IhaU 
'Fight Oier 















A criyple, ou'e ih 


" '"''^ 



rtaer. who called out frot 

aou art false an Tlell: s. 

aUhjUpi 

11 1 dlWdce It by thy de*tt-" 
,■' hDahliek'd, "my will h 

And iinoelor, with his heel open IhB 

liolling hl»'eyB«, a moment iitwd. Iben 

" Rlie, weakling ; I am Lancelot ; nj 
thy Bay." 

And Lancelot ■] 

hone back 

To Camalot. and i 



ITh«&;»o, 
world, 
Uarkan'dtbeFDoi 
the reinB. 
. made fala b 



>np»th;botnitoh'd 
iie hall itiB( Merlin 



And fotloH 
BjBkBin 

GuiiVe^ 



vly rode hl> w: 



en llmba bom till 
a city. Ilchdiiud 



Blackening asalmt 

" Blnclc neat ol ratn," ha gtoaa'd, " je 
build ■— '■'-'■ ■■ 



Full wonderiagly ebe eB»d en tAii 

So eoon retum'd, and Ihcn en Felli 

him 
^ho hail uoC greeted her. bat cast b 

snlf 



D a bench, bard-breaf 
'U lit Luicelot. "Ay, m; 




THE LAST TOURNAMENT, 



831 



And each foresaw the dolonnu day' to f " Take thou the jewels of this dead 

innocence. 
And make them, an thou wilt, a tour- 
ney prize." 



he * 
And all talk died, as in a groye all sons 
Beneath the shadow of some bird oi 

prey. 
Then a long silence came upon the hall, 
And Modred thought, <<The time is 

hard at hand* 



THE LAST TOURNAPIENT. 

Bagoxet, the fool, whom Gawain in 

his moods 
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Ta- 
ble Round, 
At Camelot. high above the yellowing 

woods, 
Danced like a wither*d leaf before the 

Hall. 
And toward him from the Hall, with 

harp in hand, 
And from the crown thereof a carca- 

net 
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize 
Of Tristram in the jousts ofyesterday. 
Came Tristram, saying, ** Why skip ye 

BO, Sir Fool?" 

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding 

once 
Far down beneath a winding wall of 

rock 
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak 

half -dead. 
From roots like some black coil of 

carven snakes 
Clutched at the ci-ag, and started thro* 

mid-air 
Bearing an eagle's nest : and thro' the 

tree 
Bush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro* the 

wind 
Pierced ever a child's cry : and crag 

^nd tree 
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the peril- 
ous nest, 
This ruby necklace thrice ai'ound her 

neck. 
And all uuscarr'd from beak or talon, 

brought 
A maiden oabe; which Arthur pity- 

ingtook. 
Then ^ve it to his Queen to rear ; the 

Queen 
But coldly acquiescing, in her white 

arms 
Beceived, and after loved it tenderly. 
And named it Nestling ; so forgot her- 
self 
A moment, and her cares; till that 

young life 
Being smitten in mid-heaven with 

mortal cold 
Past from her ; and in time the carca- 

net 
Vest her with plaintive memories of 

the child : 
80 she, delivering It to Arthur, said. 



To whom the King, "Peace to 

thine eagle-bonie 
Dead nestling, and this honor after 

death, 
Following thy will ! but, O my Queen, 

I muse 
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or 

zone. 
Those diamonds that I rescued from 

the tarn, 
And Lancelot won, methought,for thee 

to wear." 



** Would rather ye 



had let them 



fall," she crietf, 
<' Plunge and be lost — ill-fated as they 

were, 
A bitterness to me ! — ye look amazed. 
Not knowing they were lost as soon as 

given — 
Slid from my hands, when I was lean- 
ing out 
Above the river — that unhappy child 
Past in her barge : but rosier luck will 

go 
With these rich jewels, seeing that 

they came 
Not from the skeleton of a brother* 

slayer. 
But the sweet body of a maiden babe. 
Peichance — who knows ? — the purest 

of thy knights 
May win them for the purest of my 

maids." 

She ended, and the cry of a great 

jousts 
With trumpet-blowings ran on all the 

ways 
From Camelot in among the faded 

flelds 
To furthest towers; and everywhere 

the knights 
Arm*d for a day of glory before the 

King. 

But on the hither side of that loud 
morn 

Into the hall stagger'd, his visage 
ribb'd 

From ear to ear with dogwhip»weals« 
his nose 

Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one 
hand off. 

And one with shatter'd fingers dang- 
ling lame, 

A churl, to whom indignantly the 
King, 
«My churl, for whom Christ died, 
what evil beast 

Hath drawn his claws athwart thy 
face ? or fiend ? 

Man was it who marr'd Heaven's im- 
age in tlieethus?" 



\ 



Than, KpiitMii 
y«t «tr»nget« H 
PIlch-blndkH."." 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 



8 lleilgo of 



>iiil lie 



tllGE 



iciiiaiit o( 



'itefl Kiilgiit" 



raying — 



Some liolil lie wui : 

gDodly onei — lliB Ked 

DruJie ill upoirme luid drayo tliBm U) 
And wlHtii 1 called upon Uiyiiame as 
That doest right by geollo and by 

Malni'il nui and manl'd. and would 
oulriRlit have alaln, 

meeaage, 
lliQ King and all UIei liars, 

Have fuundod my Itound Table in tba 

North, 
And whatHjBTer hiBownknlgUtshaTo 

My knIghiB hsvo Ewom the counter lo 

it — and MY 
My tower la full ot bacloto.llka his 

tourt. 
BuC mine are irorUiin. aeeing tboy 

To be none other ttasn tlionuelroa — 



To be nono otbei ; and aay Ub bo 
Tlia beatlien are upon blm, his 



Broken, and Ma 1 



'Take ■ 



Bi:hal, 



1 hiir 



Uke a king's 'heir, till all his buiti be 

wbole. 
Tlie heathen — but that OTer-cllmbtng 

Hurl'd back ngoiit no often In empty 

Hath lain for yonrs at roBl — and rena- 

TMevBB,bandft<,leaTlugB of confusion, 

TLe wholenome realm la poised of 

FriendBT thro* your manbood and jour 

fealty.— .low 
Uakelhclrlait head like Satan In the 

SorUi. 
My younger knlRhts, new-made, In 




THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 



888 



By these in earnest, those in mockerv, 
caira 

The Touniament of the Dead Inno- 
cence, 

Brake with a wet wind blowing, Lance- 
lot, 

Round whose sick head all night, like 
birds of prey, 

The words of Artnur flying shriek'd, 
arose, 

And down a streetway hung with folds 
of pure 

White samite, and by fountains run- 
ning wine. 

Where cmldreu sat in white with cups 
of gold, 

MoTsd to the lists, and there, with 
slow sad steps 

Ascending, flU'd his double<Lragon*d 
chair. 

Be fflanced and saw the stately gal- 
leries. 

Dame, damsel, each thro* worship of 
their Queen 

White-robed in honor of the stainless 
child. 

And some with scatter*d jewels, like a 
bank 

Of maiden snow mingled witli sparks 
of fire. 

Ue lookt but once, and veird his eyes 
again. 

The sudden trumpet sounded as in a 
dream 

To eus but half-awaked, then one low 
roll 

Of Autumn thunder, and the jousts 
began : 

And ever the wind blew, and yellow- 
ing leaf 

And gloom and gleam, and shower and 
shorn plume 

Went down it. Sighing weariedly, as 
one 

Who sits and gazes on a faded fire, 

When all the goodlier guests are past 
away, 

Sat their creat umpire, looking o'er 
the lists. 

He saw the laws that ruled the tourna- 
ment 

Broken, but spake not ; once, a knight 
cast down 

Before his throne of arbitration cursed 

The dead babe and the follies of the 
King; 

And once the laees of a helmet crack*d. 

And show'd him, like a vermin in its 
hole, 

Modred, a narrow face : anon he heard 

Th» voice that billow*d round the bar- 
riers roar 

An ocean -sounding welcome to one 
knight. 

But newly-enter'd, taller than the rest. 

And armor'd all in forest green, 
whereon 

There tript a hundred tiny silver deer. 



And wearing but a holly-spray for 

crest, 
With ever-scattering berries, and on 

shield 
A spear, a harp, a bugle— Tristram— > 

late 
From overseas in Brittany retum'd. 
And marriage with a princess of that 

realm, 
Isolt the White— Sir Tristram of the 

Woods— 
Whom Lancelot knew, had held some- 
time with pain 
His own against liim, and now yeam*d 

to slmke 
The burthen off his heart in one full 

shock 
With Tristram ev'n to death: his 

stronc handH gript 
And dintedthe gilt dragons right and 

left, 
Until he groan'd for wrath— so many 

of tho8e, 
That ware their ladies* colors on the 

casque. 
Drew from before Sir Tristram to the 

bounds, 
And there with gibes and flickering 

mockeries 
Stoodt while he mutter*d, ** Craven 

crests ! U shame ! 
What faith have these in whom they 

sware to love ? 
The glory of our Round Table is no 



•, 



more. 

So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, 

the gems, 
Not speaking other word than ** Hast 

thou won ? 
Art thou the purest, brother? See, the 

hand 
Wherewith thou takest this is red ! *' 

to whom 
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's 

languorous inoo<l. 
Made answer, '*Ay, but wherefore toss 

me this 
Like a dry bone cast to some hungry 

hound ? 
Let be thy fair Queen*s fantasy. 

Strength of heart 
And might of limb, but mainly use and 

skill. 
Are winners in this pastime of our 

King. 
My hand— belike the lance hath dript 

upon it- 
No blood of mine, I trow ; but O chief 

knight. 
Right arm of Arthur in the battle- 
field. 
Great brother, thou nor I have made 

the world : 
Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in 

mine." 

And Tiistram round the gallery 
made his horse 
Caracole ; then bow'd hit homa<*c>. 
bltuitly saying, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 



884 



New loves are sweet as those that went 

before : 
Free love— free field— we love but 

while we may.* 

*• Ye might have moved slow-meas- 
ure to my tuiie, 

Not stood Btockslill. I made it in the 
woods 

And found 'it ring as tree as tested 
gold," 

But Dasonet with one foot poised in 

his hand, 
"Friend, did ye mark that fountain 

vesterd&v 
Made to run wine?— but this had run 

itself 
All out like a long life to a sour end— 
And them that round it Bat with golden 

cups 
To hand the wine to whomsoever 

came— 
The twelve small damosels white as 

Innocence, 
In honor of poor Innocence the babe, 
Who left the gems which Innocence 

the Queen 
Lent to the King, and Innocence the 

King 
Gave for a prize— and one of those 

white slips 
Handed her cup and piped, the pretty 

one. 

* Drink, drink. Sir Fool,* and there- 

upon I drank. 
Spat— pish— the cup was gold, the 
draught was mud.'* 

And Tristram, ''Was it muddier 

tlian thy gibes ? 
Is all the laughter gone dead out of 

thee?— 
Not marking how the knighthood mock 

thee, fool— 

* Fear God ; honor the king— his one 

true knight- 
Sole follower of the vows*— for here 

be they 
Who knew thee swine enow before 

I came. 
Smuttier than blasted grain : but when 

the King 
Had made thee fool, thy vanity so shot 

up 
It frighted all free fool from out thy 

lieart ; 
Which left thee less than fool, and 

less than swine, 
A naked aught— yet swine I hold thee 

still. 
For I have filing thee pearls, and find 

thee swine." 

And little Dagonet mincing with his 
feet, 
<* Knight, an ye fiing those rubies 
round my neck 



Of music, since I caro not for th} 

]>earls. 
Swine ? I have wallow'd, I have washM 

—the world 
Is flesh and shadow— I have had my 

day. 
The dirty nurse, Experience, in her 

kind 
Hath fouPd me— an I wallow'd, then I 

wash'd— 
I have had my day and my philoso- 
phies — 
And thank the Lord I am King 

Arthur's fool. 
Swine, say ye? swine, goats, asses, 

rams, and geese 
Troop'd round a Paynim harper once, 

who thrumm'u 
On such a wire as musically as thou 
Some such fine song- but never a 

kiiig's fool." 

And Tristram, ** Then were swine, 

goats, asses, geeso 
The wiser fools, seeing thy Paynim 

bard 
Had such a mastery of his mystery 
That he could harp his wife up out cf 

Hell.'* 

Then Dagonet, turning on the ball of 
his foot, 

''And whither harp'st thou thine? 
down ! and thyself 

Down ! and two more : a helpful harper 
thou. 

That harpest downward! Dost thou 
know the star 

We call the harp of Arthur up in heav- 
en?" 

And Tristram, "Ay, Sir Fool, for 

when our King 
Was victor wellnigh day by day, tho 

knights. 
Glorying in each new glory, set his 

name 
High on all hills, and in the signs of 

heaven." 

And Dagonet answer'd, "Ay, and 

when the land 
Was freed, and the Queen f&lse, ye set 

yourself 
To babble about him, all to show yout 

wit — 
And whether he were king by courtesy. 
Or king by right— and so went harping 

<lown 
The black king's highway, got so far, 

and grew 
So witty, that ye play'd at ducks and 

drakes 
With Arthur's vows on the great lake 

of fire. 
Tuwhoo ! do ye see it? do ye see the 

star?" 

"Nay, fool," said Tristn^m, "not in 
open day." 



In lieu of hers. 1 '11 hold thou hast And Dagonet, "Nay, nor will : I see it 
• 9ome toucli I and hear. 



TUE LAST r 



And (tieii lie Bkip," "Lo, fool," L( 

■aid, ■■ yo tnlk 
Fool's treuoii ; i> lbs king Uiy l)iotlii!i 

loolr" 
TliCD little r»gonet clopt lila haiiiii 

and ahHI?.!. 
" Aj. VI' ""J broOier fool, Uio kliij ol 

ConceiUi lilmwIC lu God Ihst he can 

innke 
Flg»outoIHiiitlei,BUk Irom bristles, 

milk 
From burning BpnrgB, honoy from 



11 tlia city Dogonet Jb 



Before blm lltJiUhe (sea of Qneen I»olt 
WitU mby-dnJal neck, bill evemiora 
Pnit, OB BiuBtle or twitter In the wotiit 
Mule tluU Ills lansT, keen Ueoutcreve 
Fot lUl Umt nalk'il, oi crept, or 

Auoa UiB face, a>, when a gml biitb 

UnruflllnB walats ra-ralledt Ibe Bbnps 
OIoiietliBt in Uieiii aeaa blmoeU, re- 

Biit Bt tlie Klot or fiinmetB nt a dner, 
Ot uVnafBU'ufe;iIbeF, vnnlBb'd again. 

go on for nil Ibit Ouy from lawn to 

Tlico' many n leagne-Iong bower Le 

rode. AtloiigUi 
A lodge of iiitertwlBtad beooboli- 

FBiic-CTBmni-iI.Hnil bincken-roofl, the 

wlilch lilmself 
Built for B Bunimar ilny with Queen 

Against a shower, dntk In the golden 

Appsaring, sent bis fancy buck to 

aha lived a iddou In that low lodge 



■OURNAilENT. 

Soiweet. that, halting, tn be pa 

drift of foliage ti 

But could not real for muing 

■inoolh 
And eleek his luBrrlBge ovei 

Porchanco iii lone Tlntagtl far froi 

The tongueeters of Hie con 

But t^eu what folly had sent litDiOT 

After Bho left hini lonely liereT 

Wai tt tho liame of one In BriI:anT. 
igbter uf tho ElugT 

Of the white liandi " ibey cnll'd In 

Allored !dm™fliit^S?Hl lh»n the nu 

1ho« wbilt 



diking, 



in Triatta 



With »lx Ol 
And Bnattdi'dher thence; yet dreading 
Her watrloc Triatrani, spake not any 
But bode bia bour, deviilug wretched- 

And now that delarl lodja W Ttlst- 




THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 



CSV 



A roar of riot, as from men secure 
Amid their mai-ahes, rtUtiiuis at their 

ease 
Among their harlot-brides, an evil 

song. 
** Lo there," said one of Arthur*8 youlh, 

for there. 
High on a grim dead tree before the 

tower, 
A goodly brother of The Table Round 
Swung Dv the neck : and on the boughs 

a shield 
Showing a shower of blood in a field 

noir. 
And there beside a horn, inflamed the 

knifljits 
At that dishonor done the gilded &pur. 
Till each would clash the shield, and 

blow the horn. 
But Arthur waved them back : alone 

he rode. 
Then at the dry harsh roar of the 

great horn. 
That sent the z:ico of all the marsh 

aloft 
An ever upward-rushing storm and 

cloud 
Of shriek and plume, the Bed Knight 

heard, and all, 
Even to tipmost lance and topmost 

helm, 
lu blood-red armor sallying, howl'd to 

the King, 
"The teeth of Hell flay bare and 

gnash thee flat ! — 
Lo ! art thou not that eiinuch-heai-ted 

Kine 
Who fain nad cllpt free manhood from 

the world— 
The woman-worshipper? Yea, God's 

curse, and 1 ! 
Slain was the brother of my paramour 
By a knight of thine, and I tnat heard 

her whine 
And snivel, being eunuch-hearted too, 
8 ware by the scorpion-worm that twists 

in hell, 
And stings itself to everlasting death. 
To hang whatever knight of thine I 

fought 
And tumbled . Art thou King ?— Look 

to thy life I " 

He ended : Arthur knew the voice ; 

the face 
Wellnigh was helmet-hidden, and the 

name 
Went wandering somewhere darkling 

in his mind. 
And Arthur deign*d not use of word or 

sword. 
But let the drunkard, as ho strctch'd 

from horse 
To strike him. overbalancing his bulk, 
Down from the causeway neavily to 

the swamp 
Fsll, as the crest of some slow-arching 

wave 
XDsard in dead night along that table- 

aboro | 



Drops flat, and after the great waters 

break 
Whitening for half a league, and thin 

theuiKelves 
Far over sands marbled with moon and 

cloud, 
From less and less to nothing ; thus ho 

fell 
Head-heavy, while the knights, who 

watched him, roar*d 
And shouted and leapt down upon the 

fall'n ; 
There trampled out his face from being 

known. 
And sank his head in mire, and slimed 

themselves : 
Nor heard the King for their own ciies, 

but sprang 
Thro* open doors, and swording right 

and left 
Men, women, on their sodden faces, 

hurl'd 
The tables over and the wines, and 

slew 
Till all the rafters rang with woman- 
yells. 
And all the pavement Btream*d with 

massacre : 
Then, yell witli yell echoing, they flred 

Which half that autumn night, like the 

live North, 
Red-pulsing up thro* Alioth and Alcor, 
Made all above it, and a hundred meres 
About it, as the water Moab saw 
Come round by the East, and out be- 

yond them fliish'd 
The long low dune, and lazy-plunging 

sea. 

So all the ways were safe from shore 

to shore. 
But in the heart of Arthur pain was 

lord. 
Then out of Tristram waking the red 

dream 
Fled with a shout, and th.it low ?odge 

retum*d, 
Mid-forest, and the wind among the 

boughs. 
He whistled his good warhorse left to 

graze 
Among the forest greens, vaulted upon 

him. 
And rode beneath an ever-showering 

leaf. 
Till one lone woman, weeping near a 

cross 
Stay'd him ' * * Why weep ye ? ** " Lord,** 

she said, " my man 
Hath left me or is dead ** j whereon he 

thought — 
** What an she hate me now ? I would 

not tliis. 
What an she love me still? I would 

not that. 
I know not what I would " -~biit said 

to her, — 
*< Yet weep not thou, leet, if thy mate 

return 



r 



V 



THE LAST TOUllNAMENT, 



%i 



89 



He aniwered, " O my soul, be com- 
forted! 

If this be sweet, to sin in leading- 
strings, 

If here be comfort, and if ours be Fin, 

Crown*d warrant bad we for tlie crown- 
ing sin 

That made us happy : but how ye greet 
me — fear 

And fault and doubt— no word of that 
fond tale -— 

Thy deep heart-yeamingSy thy sweet 
memories 

Of Tristram in that year he was away.'* 

And, saddening on the sudden, spake 
Isolt, 
" I had forgotten all in my strong joy 
To see thee — yearnings?— ay 1 for, 

hour by hour, 
Here in the never-ended afternoon, 
O sweeter than all memories of thee, 
Deeper than any yearnings after thee 
Sc«m'd those far-rolling, westward- 
smiling seas. 
Watched from tliis tower. Isolt of 

Britain dash'd 
Before Isolt of Brittany on the strand, 
Would that have chiird her bride-kiss ? 

Wedded her? 
Fought in her father's battles ? wound- 
ed there ? 
The King was all f ulilird with grateful- 
ness. 
And she, my namesake of the hands, 

that heard 
Thy hurt and heart with unguent and 

caress — 
Well — can I wish her any huger wrong 
Than having known thee ? her too hast 

tliou left 
To pine and waste in those sweet 

memories ? 
O were I not my Mark's, by whom all 

men 
Are noble, I should hate thee more 
than love." 

And Tristram, fondling her light 

hands, replied, 
** Grace, Queen, for being loved : she 

loved me well. 
Did I love her? the name at least I 

loved. 
Isolt? — I fought his battles, for Isolt ! 
The night was dark : the true star set. 

Isolt I 
The name was ruler of the dark 

Isolt? 
Care not for her ! patient, and prayer- 
ful, meek. 
Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to 

God." 

And Isolt answer'd, ** Yea, and why 

not I ? 
Mine is the larger need, who am not 

meek, 
Pale-blooded, prayerful.' Let me tell 

the now 



Here one black, mute midsummer night 

I sat 
Lonely, but musing on thee, wondering 

where, 
Murmuring a light song I had heard 

thee sing. 
And once or twice I spake thy name 

aloud. 
Then Hash'd a levin-brand ; and near 

me stood. 
In fuming sulphur blue and green, a 

fiend — 
Mark's way to steal behind one in the 

dark— 
For there was Mark : ' He has wedded 

her,' he said. 
Not said, but hissed it : then this crown 

of towers 
So shook .to such a roar of all the sky. 
That here in utter dark 1 swoou'd 

away. 
And woke again in utter dark, and 

cried, 
'I will flee hence and give myself to 

God' — 
And thou wert lying in thy new leman's 

arms." 

Then Tristram, ever dallying with 

her hand, 
" May God be with thee, sweet, when 

old and gray, 
And past desire ! " a saying that an« 

ger'd her. 
** * May God be with thee, sweet, when 

thou art old, 
And sweet no more to me ! * I need 

Him now. 
For when had Lancelot utter'd aught 

so gross 
Ev'n to Uie swineherd's malkin in the 

mast? 
Tlie greater man, the greater courtesy. 
But thou, thro' ever harrying thy wild 

beasts — 
Save that to touch a harp, tilt with a 

lance 
Becomes thee well — art grown wild 

beast thyself. 
How darest thou, if lover, push me even 
In fancy from thy side, and set me far 
In the gray distance, half a life away. 
Hero to be 1 ved no more ? Unsay it, 

unswear I 
Flatter me rather, seeine me so weak. 
Broken with Maik and hate and soli- 
tude. 
Thy marriage and mine own, that I 

should suck 
Lies like sweet wines : lie to me : I 

believe. 
Will ye not lie ? not swear, as there y« 

kneel, 
A nd solemnly as when ye sware to him. 
The man of men, our King — My God, 

the power 
Was once in vows when men believed 

tlie King ! 
Tliey lieil not then, who sware, and 

thro' their vows 



TffE LAST TOURNAMENT. 



^ 



le King piendllng made 111 
rear \a ma Ihon wilt lov 



Then TriBtram, poelng muodily up 
• Voni ! ,lJd ye 'keep tlio vow ye uinae 



* 



itupit — 
My lEiilffhthood tanglit n 



roronr^^ev'nlotli= l,dal.t-I Lon- 
'Man.ig lie manal all?'mMlionglil, 

That x\aot ol Uie Fasan throned In 
nil hair, a mn UiaC Tay'd tiom oft s 
Like hniaiioir high liilieavon.Uie Bteel- 

Tho BoId«,il«aVa Ihat oloUied liia lips 

wiih lipht— 
Moreover, ihat weird leseiid o( his 

hlrtli, 
■\Vltli Marlln'B myBtic babUla about his 

Shaped la ■ drsgDii ; bo Beem'd to mo 
But MLchoifl' trampling Satan; >a I 
Eelng amiued : but thii nent by— <be 
O ay— tbo wholcnoma raaJooM of (in 
They aerred their use, their tlmo ; for 
ihlmiwlf 
hinwcir! 



Believed lilmBell a grenti 
AniX every follower cveii 
Till lie, beliiElirte<1u't>b 
Did mightier deedt Uit 

hid done. 
And ao the renlm waa m 



le; but 



First iDAliily tlim' that sullying of our 

Began lo gall the knighthoo.!, uakins 

Had Arthur right to bind tliem to lilm- 

self? 
Dropt down from heavnu? wiab'd up 

nioy tatlM to Iraco him thro' the Qcsb 



r old RliigH • when-?e t] 




GUINEVERE. 



841 



And after theie had comforted the 

blood 
With meats and wines, and satiated 

their hearts— 
Now talking of their woodland paro- 

dise. 
The deer, the dews, the fern, the 

foiinto, the lawns ; 
Now mocking at the much ungainli- 

. ness, 
And craven shifts, and long crano legs 

of Mark- 
Then Tristram laughing caught the 

harp, and sang : 

" Ay, ay, O ay— the winds that bend 

tiie brier ! 
A star in heaven, a star within the 

mere ! 
Ay, ay, O ay— a star was my desire, 
And one was far apart, and one was 

near: 
Ay, ay, O ay— the winds that bow the 

grass I 
And one was water and one star was 

fire, 
And one will ever shine and one will 

pass. 
Ay, ay, O ayr-the winds that move the 

mere." 

Then in the light's last glimmer Tris- 
tram 8how*d 

And swung the ruby carcanet. She 
cried, 

" The collar of some order, which our 
King 

Hath newly founded, all for thee, my 
soul, 

For thee, to yield thee grace beyond 
thy peers." 

" Not so, my Queen," he said, " but 
the red fruit 

Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid- 
heaven. 

And won by Tristram as a tourney- 
prize. 

And hither brought by Tristram for his 
last 

Love-offering and peace-oif ering unto 
thee." 

He rose, he tum*d, and flinging round 

her neck, 
Claspt it ; but while he bow'd himself 

to lay 
Warm kisses in the hollow of her 

throat. 
Out of the dark, just as the lips had 

touch'd. 
Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek— 
•* Mark's way." said Mark, and clove 

him thro* the brain. 

That night came Arthur home, and 

while he climb*d, 
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping 

gloom. 
The stairway to the hall, and look'd 

and saw 



The great Queen's bower was dark,-* 

About his feet 
A voice clung sobbing till he qaestion*d 

it, 
*< What art thou ? " and the voice about 

his feet 
Sent up an answer, sobbing, ** I am thy 



apan 
fool, 



And I shall never make thee smile 
again." 



GUINEVERE. 

Queen Gutxevebe had fled the court. 

and sat 
There in the holy house at Almesbury 
Weeping, none with her save a little 

maid, 
A novice : one low light betwixt them 

bum'd 
Blurr'd by the creeping mist, for all 

abroad. 
Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full, 
The white mist, like a face-cloth to the 

face. 
Clung to the dead earth, and the land 

was still. 

For hither had she fled, her cause of 

flight 
Sir Modred ; he that like a subtle beust 
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the 

throne. 
Beady to spring, waiting a chance : for 

this. 
He chiird the popular praises of the 

King 
With silent smiles of slow disparage- 
ment ; 
And tamperM with the Lords of the 

White Horse, 
Heatlien, the brood by Hengist left ; 

aiui sought 
To make disruption in the Table 

Bound 
Of Arthur and to splinter it into feuds 
Serving his traitorous end ; and all his 

aims 
Were sharpened by strong hate for 

Lancelot. 

For thus it chanced one mom when 

all the court. 
Green-suited, but with plumes that 

mock'd the may. 
Had been, their wont, a-maying and 

retuni'd. 
That Modred still in green, all ear and 

eye 
Climb'd to the high top of the garden- 
wall 
To spy some secret scandal if he might. 
And saw the Queen who sat l>etwixt 

her best 
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court 
The wiliest and the worst ; and more 

than this 
He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing 

by 



r 



\ 



I 



Spied where lifl ronrli'd, and i 

nnlMTsr'aliiKiil 
Ficlii inni Ibecolevrorl nerean 

pllL»r, 
Bo f roin the tilgh wall and tlic llo v 

Of gruute! LsuMloc pluck' d tdm 



But wbflii lis kii«tr iliB PtlDce [Lb' 

He, rerercaclng klug's blood lu a bad 

Uide Buch eicum ob he might, and 

Full knightly witliaut Honi ; for In 

llioudayi 
Ko kniglit of Arthur'e nubleit dealt in 



GtrmEVERE. 

Beside the pluld breathing! of II 

In the detui'iilght, grliD faces csnu ai 

Before bPr, or a. vnciio (.piriloil feai 
Liko Id w>ui.:dr>uljlJ^li>i£sot cie4kl 

Heard by tlio natcfaer iii a haunl 

Tbut k Hilt the ru«t of murder out 

WOllB— 

Held he 



It, If a 



« halt o[ 



By Uidu whom God tisd madefull- 

Umb'd and wll. 
Beorn wmi alluw'd ua iwrt of blsdefci't, 
Aiid Lo vtw aDBweid aoftly by thu 



A»OiB sharp wind U 

AHttle"blllBrp"ol n' 
Ou the bure cDtut. 



This iTiiitter to the Queen, nt llrBtal 
Lightly, to 1 11! "It of llodrcd's dua 



Then TauRli'd again, but faintUer, fo 
She halt-lorcisw Oinl he, the nubtl 
Would truck hot e"il' """1 lie founJ 
Would bo tor avermora a name o 

llenceforHlird tarely could she fron 

In Hall, 
Or eliewliere, Modrcd'a iiatrowfox, 

faoa, 
Heart-hidine amilo, aiid Bray perels 

Heneeforwsrd' too, the Poircn thn 

tend the BDul, 
To helD It Imm the deatli Uint cumo 

cUe, 
And BttVH It oieu In oitremca, liegnn 
To rex and plague her. Jlouy a tlm 



An awful liream ; for Uien ahe ae^'ni 

10 stand 
On Bome vut plain before a Eellli 

Andf rotn'tho Bun there swiftly made 

A BhoBllyaometlilng, mul lla ahodc 

Before it. till it touch'd her. mid il 

tuniM— 
When lot her own, tlint broadculi 

from her feet. 
A»dblaekeuing, Bwullow'd all lUolaii 



nit 



d all tl 



nd with acrj' ■ 
lo did not V4m t 



IIU eVn Ibo clear face of tlia 

Klnp. 
And tnisiful courleBlca of 

life, 
BEcameliar bane; nndat the laata 

Bkid. 
'' O Laui'elot. get thcv henee lo (III 

Forlrthon tarry we Khali meet B£al 

clioneo 
Will make Ihe pmmildeting ■enul 



King. 
And Laneo] 

Andatillthi 



people, and our lord til 
at ever promised, bat K 

ot. if thou \uvB me get lh( 
they were agreed upon 



And 



id tbt 

niuht 
"hen the good King should na 

r oier. roaalon-pal* 



id greeted : 
won the border of her couch tbef 
Stammering and Btorlng^ it 

>d3Iadtx4 



liut 1ion_. 
LmadneBaoffarawulls. , 
- mught 



the ha 



It at I 



; and enrlug vtUt tu 



GUINEVERE. 



343 



'* Traitor, come ont, je are trapt at 

last,'* aroused 
Lancelot, who rushing outward lion- 
like 
Leapt on him, and hurPd him headlong, 

and he fell 
Stunn'd, and his creatures took and 

bare him off 
And all was still : then she, " the end 

is come 
And I am shamed for ever ; ** and he 

said 
*' Mine be the shame ; mine was the 

sin: but rise, 
And fly to my strong castle overseas : 
There will 1 hide thee, UU my life shall 

end, 
There hold thee with my life against 

the world.'* 
She answer'd " Lancelot, wilt thou 

hold me so ? 
Nay friend, for we have taken our fare- 
wells. 
Would God, that thou couldst hide me 

from myself ! 
Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and 

thou 
Unwedded : yet rise now, and let us 

fly» 

For I will draw me into sanctuary, 
And bide my doom.** So Lancelot got 

her horse, 
Set her thereon, and mounted on his 

own, 
And then they rode to the divided way, 
There kiss'd, and parted weeping : for 

he past. 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the 

Queen, 
Back to his land ; but she to Almes- 

bury 
Fled all night lone by glimmering 

waste and weald, 
And heard the Spirits of the waste and 

weald 
Moan as she fled, or thought she heard 

them moan : 
And in herself she moaned ** too late, 

too late ! *» 
Till in the cold wind that foreruns the 

morn, 
A blot in heaven, the Haven, flying 

high, 
Croak'd, and she thought ** he spies a 

field of death ; 
For now the Heathen of the Northern 

Sea, 
Lured by the crimes and frailties of the 

court. 
Begin to slay the folk, and spoil tlie 

laud.*' 

And when she came to Almesbury 
she spake 

There to the nuns, and said, mine 
enemies 

Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sister- 
hood, 

Eaeeive.aud yield me sanctuary, nor 
ask 



Her name, to whom ye yield it, till hef 

time 
To tell you : ** and her beauty, grac^ 

and power 
Wrought as a charm upon them, and 

tliev spared 
To ask it. 

So the stately Queen abode 
For many a week, unknown, among 

the nuns ; 
Nor with them mix'd, nor told her 

name, nor sought, 
Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for 

shrift, 
But communed only with the little 

maid, 
Who pleased her with a babbling heed- 
lessness 
Which often lured her from herself ; 

but now. 
This night, a rumor wildly blown about 
Came, tliat Sir Modred nad usurped 

the realm, 
And leagued him with the heathen, 

whfie the Iving 
Was waging war on Lancelot : then 

she thought, 
*^ With what a hate the people and the 

King 
Must hate me,** and bow'ddown upon 

her hands 
Silent, until the little maid, who 

brook 'd 
No silence, brake it, uttering <'late!- 

so late ! 
What hour, I wonder, now?" and 

when she drew 
No answer, by and by began to hum 
An air the nuns had taught her ; ** late, 

so late I ** 
Which when she heard, the Queen 

look'd up, and said, 
'* O maiden, if indeed ye list to sing. 
Sing, and unbind my hearb that I may 

weep.'* 
Whereat full willingly sang the little 

maid. 

" Late, late so late ! and dark th« 

night and chili ! 
I^ate, late, so late ! but we can enter 

still. 
Too late, too late I ye cannot enter 

now. 

" No light had we : for that we do 

repent ; 
And learning this, the bridegroom will 

relent. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

** No light : so late : and dark and 
chill the nigh«i ! 
O let us in, that we may find the light ! 
Too late, too late : ye cannot entei 
now. 

Have we not heard the bridegroom 
is so sweet? 



IlerltEBdupouhc 
Her iLoUflit who 


itinlB'hcL-Bmo.wepl 
u iiovlce pntUlng to 


" ^IW y™. 


nob 


e lad)-, woep 
word, ol Olio 


: 




thL 


e knows 1)ut 


to 


«1 


penanoo ei»o 


- 



.mCort 

From evil done; riglit eure am I of 

WlioKsyonr tender grBce ami BtntelU 

Bnt weigh jour aoiiowa with oni lord 

Andweighlngliiia tlieinl>«i; focgona 

To nge grim witrngainat Sir Lancelot 

Hoanddiat'itrDngfAatlenlierelialiolds 

the IJiioBii ; 
And Mo.lred whom he left in charge or 

lail;, Uie Klng'i 

Hit, and Mb own Quean, 

it nemlabe thrice 03 great as an; of 

me, 1 Uiank the ailnts. I am not 

U^re erer conie n grief to me 



, ,'"•' 



Soiie 









But even were ttiujgrisfii of little ot 
At gi'eat an iIuhb otgreat oiiee, yet t 



to Ihs griefs the gre&t must 

Tliatliowsoever much tkef may desire 
J, they oanuot Heap hahltid c 

talk at Almeiburr 



Sllsuce 



the goo.liiiiig uid 

anecn, 
might I ndeli 



the child kill me with her Inr 

enttalk?" 

Billy she niuwor'il " muMiwA 



VERE. 
U Ibis false traitor hnve displaced hi 



" Tea," said the m^il, •' tti* I* ill 
womaiiB Brief , 
ThntiAe ia wamiui. wHoM dUlnysl il(p 
Kath wrouahl ooufusioii In Uie Table 

WUch good Ring Arthui founded, 

^llli sigiiB and' mlractea and wonders, 



Tlien tliongbt the Queen wIlLin her- 
self noBln ; 
" Will the child kill me wiUi licr toel- 

But openly BliB (pake and said lo her: 
■■ O Utile nuJd, hIiui In by uuunery 

What rarstthou know of King* and 

Tables Kouiid. ^ 

Or wbul of signs and Trmtdeis, but ths 

And simple miraalcsof tby nmuiarTi" 

To whom thelittlo novice gnmilous- 

" Tea, bnt I know : the land was full 



la Iheretofrom I.yoniie 



Aflcr Uie Bunsst, don 



. beanon-Blar upon hU 
B wild ften-llgli( aUi 

«aw Uiem — hEadland afler 



Far 01 



L<1 In 1 



And at 



lan-hreaatcd things ttoul 

!Bp aea-vnico ihro" nil tin 

little elres of cUauii lud 

Made answer, aomidliig like ■ dlMaBt 



deft 



>'Bxt moroinB, while he loat lb* dlib- 



GUINEVERE, 



845 



Bimielf beheld three spirits mad with 

joy 
Come dashing doim on a tall wayside 

iiower» 
That shook heneath them, as the thistle 

shakes 
When three eray linnets wrangle for 

the seed : 
And still at evenings on before his 

horse 
The flickering fairy-circle wheel'd and 

broke 
Flying, and link*d again, and wheePd 

and broke 
Flying, for all the land was full of life* 
And when at last he came to Camelot. 
A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand 
Swung round the lighted lantern of the 

hall ; 
And in the hall itself was such a feast 
As never man had dream'd \ for every 

knight 
Had whatsoever meat he long*d for 

served 
By hands unseen : and even as he said 
I>owii in the cellars merry bloated 

things 
Shoulder'a the spigot, straddling on 

the butts 
While the wijie ran: so glad were 

spirits and men 
Before the coming of the sinf ulQueen." 

Then spake the Queen and somewhat 

bitterly. 
" Were they so glad ? ill prophets 

were they all. 
Spirits and men : could none of them 

foresee. 
Not even thy wise father with his signs 
And wonders, what has f alPn upon the 

realm?" 

To whom the novice garrulously 

again. 
** Tea, one, a bard ; of whom my father 

said. 
Full many a noble war-song had he 

Ev'n in the presence of an enemy's 
fleet. 

Between the steep cliff and Uie coming 
wave * 

And many * a mystic lay of life and 
death 

Had chanted on the smoky mountain- 
tops, 

When round him bent the spirits of the 
hills 

"With all their dewy hair blown back 

So said mv father— and that night the 

bard 
Sang Arthur's glorious wars, and sang 

the King 
As wellnigh more than man, and raird 

at those 
Tn&o caird him the false son of Oor- 

lott: 
Foe there was no man knew from 

whencrt he ram" ; 



But after tempest, when the long wave 

broke 
All down the thundering shores of 

Bude and Bos, 
There came a day as still as heaven, 

and tlien 
They found a naked child upon the 

sands 
Of dark Tintagil by the Comieh sea ; 
And that was Arthur ; and they f os- 

ter'd him 
Till he by miracle was approvcn king : 
And that his grave should be a mystery 
From all men, like his birth ; and 

could he find 
A woman in her woniRnhoo<l as great 
As he was in his manhood, then, he 

sang. 
The twain together well might change 

the world. 
But even in the middle of his song 
Ue falter' d, and his hand fell from the 

harp, 
And pale he tum*d. and reel*d, and 

would have falrn, 
But that they stay 'd him up ; nor would 

he tell 
Ilis vision ; but what doubt that he fore- 
saw 
This evil work of Lancelot and the 

Queen?" 

Then thought the Queen " lo ! they 

have set her un, 
Our simple-seeming Abbess and her 

nuns. 
To play upon me," andbow*d her head 

nor spake. 
Whereat the novice crying, with clasp*d 

hands, 
Shame on her own garrulity garrulous- 
Said the good nuns would check her 

gadding tongue 
Full often, *• and, sweet lady, if I seem 
To vex an ear too sad to listen to me. 
Unmannerly, with prattlhig and the 

tales 
Which my good father told, check me 

too: 
Nor let me shame my father's memory, 

one 
Of noblest manners, tho* himself would 

say 
Sir Lancelot had the noblest ; and he 

died, 
Kiird in a tilt, come next, five sum- 
mers back. 
And left mu ; but of others who remain, 
And of the two flrst-famed for court- 
esy— 
And pray you check me If I ask amiss— 
But pray you, which had noblest, while 

you moved 
Among them, Lancelot or our lord the 

King?" 

Then the pale Queen look*d up and 
answerd her. 
«Sir Lancelot, as became a iMfolft 
knight. 



f 



V 



WwffTBcloiii ta all 1adi«, nn<l the i 
III oiion httltiB or IhB -"•'— "-'■' 
focbore Ilia awu wli 






GUINEVERE. 

Fled fiighlfid. Tlien Dint oQier 

li the Blgh'il, nnd began toeatlier heart sgiiiri, 
Suyliig ill lienelf ■' Hik iiin|ile, fenrtiii 

ly own tDO-fcaitsl 



]t tbe fruit 



giUlt 
Simr'sr lliaii Buy child, botrays lUi 
,....,„, ^ , for surely I 



II help II 






Of loyal iiBluce> and i>l noble ni 
Yea." udcl the tnald. "be man 

Then Luivelat'* needaoiuetbeathou- 

«nd-(old 
li&u i\oh\e, being* m all minor rmifi, 
Tlie most dlgloyai frieud lu all th 

world." 
To kMcIi a nioumrul answer mad 

theQueeii. 

^Vliat kiinweat tliou oF Ihe world, an 

nil Its llElits 
And iliadows. all the wcnltL uut all tl 

If BTOr i^neelol, lliat most nob 

hlllEllL, 

■Weco for oue hour Ices noble than Uli 

Bl>K, 

Pray lor hliu that he Bcapo Iha doom 



t b true ropcntnnco bnt In 

3"''"™* ""'"*"' 

tlmt maile Uie paat so p 



A-n.l BT'ii In Baying Oih, 
Her memory from ol' >—''-- -- -■- 

Bllpplug back upon the (pildaa 

[loll ahe aaw lilm first, when Iadc*- 

Bopnted the best knight an.l Boojllwt 

.o his InnI 



laid the lIHlo uovlce, ■■ I pray 
ill all M loon belieie thathla. 



Itaptinsweeculkor 

liiil (port and tilts i 

tliB time 



>D.I Itr 



moTini 



k;s 



Dves that look'd a pan- 



would b? ' 
Bach as thiiy a 



So >hB. like many anothor bo 

'Whom ^e would Boothe, and harm'd 

where stie would lieal : 
For hare a sudden flush oC wrathful 

Find all (he pais face of the Queen, 

"Huch as thou art be nover maidau 

For tverl Ihon Ihsir tool, set on to 
_ _ plSKoo 
And play uiion.and harry me, petty spy 

Whito as her yell, a 



e Queen had added ■' get 



And on from hill' 
Beheld at noon In so: 
[laTllioiia 




HI immetHd ia 
oving through the |>astiiiM 

ot where Dot abe 



; Journey done, rhuicad at Ub, 

thought Mm oold, 
;b, eelt-eoDCTln'd, nitd 



GUINEVERE. 



817 



*Kot like ray Lancelot **— while she 

hrooded thus 
And grew half-guilty in her thoughts 

again, 
There rode an armed warrior to the 

doors. 
A murmuring whisper thro* the nun- 

nery.raij, 
Then on a sudden a cry, " the King.*' 

She sat 
Stiff-etricken, listening; but when 

armed feet 
Thro' the long gallery from the outer 

doors 
Bang coming, prone from off her seat 

she fen. 
And grovell'd with her face against the 

floor : 
There with her milkwhite arms and 

shadowy hair 
She made her face a darkness from the 

King: 
And in the darkness heard his armed 

feet 
Pause by her ; then came silence, then 

a voice, 
Monotonous and hollow like a Ghost's 
Denouncing judgment, but the* 

changed the King's. 

"Liest thou here so low, the child of 

one 
I honor'd, happy, dead before thy 

shame ? 
Well is it that no child is bom of thee. 
The children boni of thee are sword 

and fire. 
Bed ruin, and the breaking up of laws. 
The craft of kindred and the Godless 

hosts 
Of heathen swarming o'er the North- 
cm Sea. 
Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my 

right arm. 
The mightiest of my knights, abode 

with me, 
Have everywhere about this land of 

Chnst 
In twelve great battles ruining over- 
thrown. 
And knowest thou now from whence I 

come — from him. 
From wasing bitter war with him : 

andne. 
That did not shun to smite me in 

worse way, 
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him 

left, 
He spared to lift his hand against the 

King 
Who made him knight : but many a 

knight was slain ; 
And many jnore, and all his kith and 

kin 
Clave to him, and abodo in his own 

land. 
And many more when Modrcd raised 

revolt, 
forgetful of their troth and fealty, 

clave 



To Modred, and a remnant stays with 

me. 
And of this remnant will I leave * a 

part. 
True men who love me still, for whom 

I live. 
To guard thee in the wild hour coming 

on. 
Lest but a hair of this low head be 

harm'd. 
Fear not : tliou shalt be guarded till 

my death. 
Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies 
Have err*d not, that 1 march to meet 

my doom. 
Thou hast not made my life so sweet 

tome, 
That I the King should greatly care to 

liv ; 
For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my 

life. 
Bear with me for the lost time while I 

show, 
£v*n for thy sake, the sin which thou 

■ hastsinn'd. 
For when tbe Roman left us, and their 

law 
Relax'd its hold upon us, and the ways 
Were fill'd with rapine, here and there 

a deed 
Of prowess done redress'd a random 

wrong. 
But I was first of all the kings who 

drew 
The kniehthood-errant of this realm 



ig 
id 



and all 
The realms together under me, their 

Head, 
In that fair order of my Table Bound, 
A glorious company, the flower of 

men. 
To sei've as model for the mighty 

world, 
And be the fair beginning of a time. 
I made tliem lay their hands in mine 

and swear 
To reverence the King, as if he were 
Their conscience, and their conscience 

as tlieir Iving, 
To break the heathen and uphold the 

Christ, 
To ride abroad redressing human 

wrongs. 
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to 

it. 
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity. 
To love one maiden only, cleave to 

her. 
And woi-ship her by years of noble 

deeds, 
Until they won her ; for indeed I 

knew 
Of no more subtle master under heaven 
Than is the maiden passion for a maid» 
Not only to keep down the base in 

man. 
But teach high thought, and amiable 

words 
And courtliness, and the desire ok 

fame. 



t 



^^^■1 



nUINEVERE. 



BeUevlug, 'lo mine lislpnuite, one 1o 

My purpose nml rejoining In my joy.' 
■i'liBH cauia Oiy ■bauieTul »ln wiUi 

Then cams llie tin at TrUtram ninl 

Imtt; 
Tlieti oiJii.-ii!|foI1owliiB Uiese niy inlgh-J- 

And lirnniiiBtoul eiuatopla from li^r 

Sinn'il nlXD.tlU tlio loalhinma omiosICa 



mliio 



ittMsl 



% 



I Eonrd B» Coil's iiigU e"' f"»" foitlie 

Sol greatly cars lo loso ; bat cnUier 

IliLtik 
How Bail 11 viotE tor Arlliiir. iliould ho 

williln Ilia loiicly 

nteil tinmber of ray 

And Dilss to 'hetr MEh Inlk of uoblo 



Aud ill Uiy bowBiB ot Cainalot ot of 

Thy Bliailoir lUll nould glido trom 

Aud I (liould o?BnaoTO boveitwIUi 

In liangliie robs or vncant ornament 
Ut gliintfy footfall eoliniiig ou ibe 



Iljoldtl 
■\VlM> tiU 



'B f nlBO, abide and nilo 



Creepe, noprecaalion at 






.oodsUntlil 

polKoia luU 

tbac telBlXB 1 
Better the King's voato bearUk and 

acWngUenn; 
Tlian iboD reseated in tliT till 

llgl". 
The moekery ot my people, and 

lie pauaed, sml In (bo paoi 

Xesrer, aud laid Iter linutU itboat till' 

off a solitary tnitupet blea. 






walUiieby Ills a< 
hotaa ueidi'il 
tafrieudTvoiee, 



tbyci 



lilnk II 



t Hint I 



coma to ugl 



I did w 



I, wlwBB i-oflt pity nlmoBt makes n 

To see ihne, laylnc Uioro thy goMi 

Jly pride In bappler summen, H x 

Tbo nntth vlilrli forced my tlunih 

OHtbntllen'elnw, 
Tlie ilooiu ot Ireaiou and Uie OmbIii 

(Wben firat'l Icornt thae b<<ld«i ber^ 
tapast. 

rblob nbile I weigh' 



with one 



li-,llj ir 



Golden hnir, wltli wli 

play 

Sot kuowingl O imperial-moulded 
And beaaty such ns never 

1 cannot tonch thy lips, tbey i 

But I-uucfllol'B : nay, Ibey ner 

I cannot taku thy hand ; . tlial ti 

And In tlw fleah tbon host slnn'd 1 a 

mine own flesli. 
Here looking down onU 

'Iloathetheai' yettuil 




GUINEVERE, 



849 



For X was ever riivin save for thee, 
Hy love thro* flesh hath wrought into 

my life 
So far, that my doom is, I loye thee 

still. 
Let no man dream but that I love thee 

still, 
Perchance, and so thou purify thy 

soul, 
And so thou lean on our fair father 

Christ, 
Hereafter in that world where all are 

pure 
We two may meet before high God, 

and thou 
Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, 

and Know 
I am thine husband— not a smaller 

soul, 
Kor Lancelot, nor another. Leave mo 

that, 
I charge tliee, my last hope. Now must 

I hence. 
Thro* the thiclc night I hear the trum- 
pet blow : 
They summon me their King to lead 

mine hosts 
Far down to that great battle in the 

west. 
Where I must strike against the man 

they call 
Hy sisters son — no kin of mine, who 

leagues 
With lords of the White Horse, hea- 
then, and knights — 
Traitors — and strike him dead, and 

meet myself 
Death, or I know not what mysterious 

doom. 
And thou remaining here wilt learn 

the event ; 
But hither shall I never come again, 
liever lie by thy side, see thee no more. 
Farewell I '^ 

And while she grovelVd at his feet. 
She felt the Kiug^s breath wander o'er 

her neck. 
And in tlie darkness o*er her fallen 

head, 
Perceived the waving of his hands that 

blest. 

Then, listening till those armed steps 

were gone, 
Bosethe pale Queen, and in her an- 

guisii found 
The casement : *' peradventure ** so she 

thought, 
* If I might see his face, and not be 

seen." 
And lo, he aat on horseback at the 

door ! 
And near him the sad nuns with each 

a light 
Stood, and he gave them charge about 

the Queen, 
To ffoard and foster her for evermore. 
Auu while he spake to these his helm 

was lower*d, 



To which for crest the golden dragon 

clung 
Of Britain ; so she did not see the face, 
Which then was as an angel's, but she 

saw. 
Wet with the mists and smitten by the 

lights. 
The Dragon of the great Pendragon* 

ship 
Blaze, making all the night a steam oi 

fire. 
And even then he tum*d; and more 

and more 
The moony vapor rolling round the 

King, 
Who seeni'd the phantom of a Giant 

in it, 
Enwound him fold by fold, and made 

him gray 
And grayer, till himself became as 

mist 
Before her, moving ghostlike to his 

doom. 

Then she stretch'd out her arms and 

cried aloud 
**0 Arthur!" there her voice brake 

suddenly. 
Then— as a stream that spouting from 

a cliff 
Fails in mid air, but gathering at the 

base 
Re-makes itself, and flashes down the 

vale — 
Went on in passionate utterance. 

**Gone— my lordt 
Gone thro* my sin to slay and to be 

slain ! 
And he forgave me, and I could not 

speak. 
Farewell ? I should have answer'd his 

farewell. 
His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord 

the King, 
My own true lord ! how dare I call him 

mine ? 
The shadow of another cleaves to me, 
And makes me one pollution : he, the 

* King, 
Caird mo polluted : shall I kill myself ? 
What help in that ? I cannot kill my 

sin. 
If soul be soul; nor can I kill my 

shame ; 
No, nor by living can I live it down. 
The days will grow to weeks, the weeka 

to months. 
The months will add themselves and 

make the years, 
Tlie years will roll into the centuries. 
And mine will ever be a name of sconi. 
I must not dwell on that defeat of 

fame. 
Let the world be ; that is but of the 

world. 
What else ? what hope ? I think there 

was a hope. 
Except he mock'd me when he s^akA 

olliOV«\ 



f- 



SM THE PASSING 

HIa bope be ORll'd il ; bat hs nere' 
For mockErV Is the fume ol ll(t<> 
And litEUeJ be the Ring, vho hstl 
Uy wlukedneas to him, aud Icfl mt 
Tlint In Riiiie ovni heart I can live dowi 
Alid bo his mate hGToaftoi in lUi 
BctorohinhUoil. Ah peat ami genlli 



•;.T"' 



1 eully all Impressions frm 



Would 11 

To irhieh I would not or I raulil 

climb— 
I thfmeht I could not breatlio tu that 

Sue III 

wiuciri 






.-,., look - 



a sevcrltj of perfect Uglil — 






UlOOBT 



lelilaliasi 



ind moat Lus 



Will tell the Klug I lore lilm tbo' so 
NoVF— ere ho goes to Ihc great DsClle ? 
MysoICmus't tell him In that purflrllfo. 

God, . 
What mlitht I not have made of tby 

fair world. 
Had I but loTed Ibj highest crsature 

It was my dutr to haTo loved the iilgh- 

It surely was my proDt hud I known : 
It would hare been luy pleasure hud 1 

Ws needs mutt lore the Mgheat when 
Kot Lauoelot, nor another." 

Here her hand 
GniBp'd, made her rell her eyes : Bhe 

Ths uovlpo, -weeping, suppliant, a; 

tiAA to ber 
" Yea, little maid, for am I not f i 



Within her, and she wept with ihea 
and said. 
"Yeknowmellion,lliaX^(\i;Tio4Qiii 




OF ARTHUR. 

It dealgn and nurpoae o 
Inn. 

irrqiTlng m 

Meek mafd" IS,' 
■ ehame.- 



^'ur sliun to caJl uiq 
Waor Ji'st'k and white, and be a dii»] 
Fast with your fasta, not feasting wllb 
Grieve withyour Erlefa, not giieTing M 
But not rejoicing ; nuiigle with iMir 



Walk your dim cloister, auii lUsuiliDU 
To poor sick people, richer in bin cnn 
Who ramoni'd us,«nd haler loo than 1 ! 
their loaibauDie burls aiid 




THE PASSING OF ARTHUR, 



851 



Before that last weird battle in tbe 

west 
There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain 

killM 
In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Qawain 

Dlown 
Along a wandering wind, and past his 

ear 
Went shrilling ** Hollow, hollow all de- 
light ! 
Hail, king ! to-morrow thou shalt pass 

away. 
Farewell ! there is an isle of rest for 

thee. 
And I am blown along a wandering 

wind, 
And hollow, hollow, hollow all de- 
light." 
And fainter onward, like wild birds 

that change 
Their season in the night and wail their 

way 
From cloud to cloud, down the long 

wind the lUeain 
ShriU'd ; but in going mingled with dim 

cries 
Far in the moonlit haze among the hills. 
As of some lonely city sack'a by night, 
When all is lost, and wife and child 

with wail 
Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke 

and call'd, 
** Who spake? A dream. O light upon 

the wind. 
Thine, Gawain, was the voice— are 

these dim cries 
Thine? or doth all that haunts the 

waste and wild 
Mourn, knowing it will go along with 

me?" 

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and 

spake : 
•* O me, my king, let pass whatever will, 
Elves, and the narmless glamour of the 

field: 
But in their stead thy name and glory 

cling 
To all high places like a golden cloud 
For'ever : but as yet thou shalt not pass. 
Light was Gawain in life, and light in 

death 
Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man; 
And care not thou for dreams from 

him, but rise — 
I hear the steps of Modred in the west. 
And with him many of thy people and 

knights 
Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but 

grosser grown 
Than lieathen, spitting at their vows 

and thee. 
Bight well in heart they know thee for 

the kinff. 
Arise, go forth and conquer as of old." 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi- 
vere : 
•* Far other is this battle in the west 
Whereto we move, than when we strove 
in youth, 



And thrust the heathen from the Roman 

wall, 
And shook him thro* the north. Ill 

doom is mine 
To war against my people and my 

knights. 
The king who fights his people fights 

himself. 
And they my knights, who loved me 

once, the stroke 
That sti-ikes them dead is as my death 

to mo. 
Yet let us hence, and find or feel away 
Thro' this blind haze, which ever since 

I saw 
One lying in the dust at Almesbury, 
Hath folded in the passes of the worlu." 

Then rose the king and moved his 

host by night. 
And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by 

league, 
Back to tlie sunset bound of Lyon- 

nesse— 
A land of old upheaven from the abyss 
By tire, to sink into the abyss again ; 
Where fragments of forgotten peoples 

dwelt, 
And the long mountains ended in a 

coast 
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away 
The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
There tlie puisuer could pursue no 

more. 
And he that fied no further fly the 

king ; 
And there, that day when the groat 

light of heaven 
Bum'd at his lowest in the rolling year, 
On the waste sand by the wasie sea 

they closed. 
Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight 
Like this last, dim, weird battle of the 

west. 
A death white mist slept over sand and 

sea: 
Whereof the chill, to him who breathed 

it, drew 
Down with his blood, till all his heart 

was cold 
With formless fear : and ev'n on Arthur 

fell 
Confusion, since he saw not whom he 

fought, 
For f liend and foe were shadows in the 

mist. 
And filend slew friend not knowing 

whom lie slew ; 
And some had visions out of golden 

youth. 
And some beheld the faces of old ghosts 
Iwook in upon the battle ; and in the mist 
Was many a noble deed, many a base. 
And chance and craft and strength in 

single fights. 
And ever and anon with host to host 
Shocks, and the splintering spear, the 

hard mail hewn. 
Shield-breakings, and the clash ol 

brands^ the cra&bL 



^^^■1 



TBE PASSING OF AtiTHCR. 



OlbnlLl^aies on aliattar'd heli 

IllrieUa 
AlWrilie Clirl»l, ol 

Looknl up for heaTOi 

moiietrous bloi- 
SweM. wiitblnj!!, aiigulBb, laboriug o[ 
lu thai; cloui mist, mid ccjlnga toi tlia 
Moaiui of the iljliiB, ana v(d«« of Uio 
Lott, na br toma one iloaLh-bcJ after 
0( fttRering, Bllauee tollowg, or ILio' 



Ot daatblike ■wonn, Urns o' 
Srvo for lomo nLispci of U 



mlltti 



tblng 

A. dHa'nuuli fell ; bat wbBn tho dolor- 

Graw drearier biwiid twlllgbt foiling, 

A Idtter wind, clear from tho Xorth, 

and bleiT 
The mill uldo, Slid irltb that nind the 









■nycrTorChrlitUT 

Brake In amonedead tacea, to Bud fro 
Swaying the helpleu baud*, and up and 

Tomblhie tlie hollow helmets, of tba 

And ahlTer'd brands that once bad 

touglit with Rome, 
And roltlng f nr aknig the gloomy stiorea 

I Then ipalto King Arthur to Sir 
Aud wbltec tbon the mlsttliat all day 
Hcd bald the Hold of battle van ilie 
aou thlB 



Hcarcst thou this great 



1 realm vbere- 



O Badlyere, for on my heart haUi f aU'n 



.fusion, till I kUDirnc 



King eTerywhere I uid lo tba dead 

There also wllffvoiahip tliee ai Wng- 

Yet Btill thy life is whole, and ttiia 

Wbolovo thee ; but wLo hata tbe^ 
The boaUieci back tHDOiig iu>. yonder 
Modreit. uidiann'd, tho Iralior of thine 



Then enake the Iilug;"Mr bona* 
thou tliia tiallor ot nij 

My bouae ore raUier tliej vbo await 

my vowB, 
lea, oTOn while Ihoy brake them. 

And well fur tliee, aaying Ui 017 dark 

lun all the DUrport of my 

■,{;■■"'■"■'■-- 






k or dead thou iK^ldoal mafar 



ngaml, whatWBTorlia Uiclrtry: 
iiToiie lastactofkiiighooUalialiaiiia 



' the k£g 



And Dlierlug Ibti 
ilien Modred unale 
nard OK tbat helm which many a 



So all da' 
roU'il 

rulll'Klng 



1 all but alaiu hii[uelt,lui 

long tbo nolle of battk 
loDntaina by llio nliiler 
ArUinr'a Table, man by 

Tlion.bt'canaohlxiuimd 
lodlTtra iipllfltrd bim, 



Then spoke Elng ArtliurtoSlrBadt 

' Tbo aequcl of lo-day unMden nil 
rha aoodlleai (ailowalilp vt laiuuua 

i^'hareof OilB worUbolila rscoiiL Sucli 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR, 



85S 



oniey sleep— the men I loved. I think 

that we 
Shall never more, at any future time, 
Delight our souls with talk o£ knightly 

deeds. 
Walking about the gardens and the 

h^ls 
Of Camelot, as in the days that were. 
Iperish by this people which I made,— 
Tno' Merlin sware that 1 should come 

again 
To rule once more ; but let what will 

be, be. 
I am so deeply smitten thro* the helm 
That without help I cannot last till 

mom. 
Thou therefore take my brand Excali- 

bur, 
^Hiich was my pride : for thou remem- 

berest how 
In those old days, one summer noon, 

an arm 
Bose up from out the bosom pf the lake, 
CloUied in white samite, mystic, wou- 

ful, 
Holding the sword— and how I row'd 

across 
And took it, and have worn it, like a 

king; 
And, wheresoever I am sung or told 
In aftertime, this also shall be known : 
But now delay not : take Excalibur, 
And fling him far into the middle 

mere : 
Watch what thou se^t, and lightly 

bring me word." 

To him replied the bold Sir Bcdi- 

vere : 
** It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee 

thus. 
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the 

helm— 
A little tiling may harm a wounded 

man; 
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring 

thee word." 

So saying, from the ruin*d shrine he 
stept, 

And in the moon athwart the place of 
tombs. 

Where lay the mighty bones of ancient 
men, 

Old knights, and over them the sea- 
wind sang 

Shrill, chill witii flakes of foam. He, 
stepping down 

By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed 
rock. 

Came on tne shining levels of the lake. 

There drew he forth the brand Ex- 
calibur, 

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter 
moon, 

Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, 
ran forth 

Axid sparkled keen with fiost against 
fiiehUt: 



For all the haft twinkled with diamond 

sparks. 

Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth- 
work 
Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so long 
That both lus eyes were dazzled as he 

stood. 
This way and that dividing the swif6 

mmd. 
In act to throw : but at the last it 

seem'd 
Better to leave Excalibur conceai'd 
There in the many-knotted waterflags, 
That whistled stin and dry about the 

marge. 
So strode he back slow to the wounded 

King. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedi- 

vere : 
" Hast thou perform'd my mission 

which I gave ? 
What is it thou has seen? or what hast 

heard?" 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedi- 

verc : 
"I heard the ripple washing in the 

reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the 

crag." 

To whom replied King Arthur, faint 

and pale : 
''Thou hast betray'd thy nature and 

thy name, 
Not rendering true answer, as be- 
seemed 
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight : 
For surer sign had followed, either 

hand. 
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 
This is a shameful tiling for men to 

lie. 
Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go 

again. 
As thou art lief and dear, and do the 

thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring 

me word." 

Then went Sir Bedivere the second 

time 
Across the ridge, and paced beside the 

mere, 
Counting the dewy pebbles, fix*d in 

thouffht ; 
But when ne saw the wonder of the 

hilt, 
How curiously and strangely chased, 

he smote 
His palms together, and he cried 

aloud: 

''And if indeed I cast the brand 

away, 
Surely a precious thing, one worthy 

note. 
Should tluis be lost for ever from tho 

earth. 



w^ 



S54 THE PASSING 

WHdx mlgbt liava pleued (be ey. 
What good ahould foUov Uili, If 



KinsliiaiGk 



Wlist reoord, or what rsllo of m7 Ion 
StiouJd ba to >fur[im«, but eiaplj 

bnath 
And nimon of a doubt? But wen 

Iblx kflpt. 
Stored iu aoniB treaauie-honsa u. 

Some one tnlglit'^iow it at u joUBt o. 

Sayliis, ■ idng Aitliur'a Bword, Eicalj. 

VroUKht by tho lonely nudden of th< 

Nine yeara ilie wrouglit It, Bitting li 

the deep* 
Upon the Mdden I 



To bU the people, wiiin 



IllllB.- 



Bo Bpake ho, oloiided wltli Ijia ovni 

And lilil En^allbnr thB Bocond Hme, 
And BO strode bud: Blow to l^e woiuideil 

Then Bpoke King Arthur, hraathlng 

heavily ; 

" WhatisiCUioa haat Beeujoiwhat 

huai heard?" 

And RiiBWor tojido Ihe bold Sk Bedl- 

" I heard the water lapping on the 

And Ujo Jong ripple ^aflliiiig In tho 

To nhom replied King Aithnr, innch 



w'd the will, lee 
iu, Die lateBt-left o: 



I ray 



In whuQi BhOBldnieel theomvesot nil, 
Tliou wouldst betray luH toclliepre- 

cioUB Ult ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the Elddypleaflure of theoyoB. 
Yet. tor a man way fall In duty twice, 
Aud the third time May prosper, gat 



1 Bat, U 



■ji fling EicrtttiMT, 



Tbetx quickly rose Sir Bedlteri 

And leipiiia dijwn the ridges Hghilj.. 

Amotig the balnuh-bedB, and ciutch'd 

And strongly wheel'd and threw iu 

The great braml 
Made Ughtuliigs Iu the spleudor <tf ilio 



Seen where the moving Istea of winiet 
By night, with noises of Ibo northttu 



Clotberi in white Bamlle, myatlc, won. 

derful, 
"L, Bndbfaii- 



Aud lightly went the other to Uie KlAS. 

Then spoke King Arthur, dcaalOC 
till Aer brealE r 






) eyes that th»U 
; what la It thou itut ti«ud| 



And nnswer made the boUsLr Iiaitt- 

" Sir KDig," I dosed ralua eyelids, IM 

Sliould blfiid my purpoae, for I naTcr, 

Nor Bhnll sec, here or cIbcwIibtc. iSU I 

Not tho' I lire three Uyos of aoiul 

So great a mitaele as yonder kJlt. 
Thwi wUk both hnuds 1 liuiig Ulm, 

wheeiliiB him ; 
But wheu I look'd ag^i, beheU *a 

Clothed III white lamite, myallc, won- 
derful, ' 
ITiat CBugli t him by the hilt, una boih. 



And answer made King Arthur, 
breathing hard ; 
"My end draws uigb; 't Utlmetkatt 

Moke brood thy Bhouldon to tecelT* 

my weight. 
Andheiir me lolheniargli ; yettfi!*r 
Uy wound hath Uikan sold, and t lltUI 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 



So saying, from the pavement he 
half rose. 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm. 
And looking wistfully witn wide blue 

eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
Bemorsef ally regarded thro' his tears, 
And would have spoken, but he found 

not words ; 
Then took with care, and kneeling on 

one knee, 
0*er both his shoulders drew the lan- 
guid hands. 
And rising bore him thro' the place of 
tombs. 

But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted 

hard. 
Uke one tnat feels ar nightmare on his 

bed 
"When all the house is mute. So slgh'd 

the King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear 

" Quick, quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from ridge 

to ridge, 
Cloth'd with his breath, and looking, as 

he walk'd, 
Lareer than human on the frozen hills. 
He lieard the deep behind him, and a 

cry 
Before. His own thought drove him 

like a goad. 
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy 

caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and 

right 
The bare black cllif clang'd round him, 

as he based 
His feet on Juts of slippery crag that 

rang 
Shar2>-smTtten with the dint of armed 

heels — 
And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake. 
And the long glories of the winter 

moon. 

Then saw they how there hove a 

dusky bargo, 
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to 

stern, 
Beneath them ; and descending they 

were ware 
That all the decks were dense with 

stately forms, 
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a 

dream— by these 
Three Queens with crowns of gold: 

and from them rose 
A ?ry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, 
And, as it were one voice, and agony 
Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 
All night in a waste land, where no 

one comes. 
Or hath come; since the making of the 

world. 



Then murmur'd Arthur, •* Place me 
in the barge ; 



855 
There 



»» 



So to the barge they came. 

those three Queens 
Put forth their hands, and took the 

Kinff, and wept. 
But she, that rose the tallest of them 

all 
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap. 
And loosed the shatter'd casque, and 

chafed his hands. 
And call'd him by his name, complain- 
ing loud. 
And dropping bitter tears against his 

brow 
Striped with dark blood : for all hii 

face was white 
And colorless, and like the wither'd 

moon 
Smote by the fresh beam of the sprhig- 

inff east : 
And all Ills greaves and cuisses dash'd 

with drops 
Of onset : and the light and lustrous 

curls— 
That made his forehead like a rising 

sun 
High from the daYs-throne — were 

parchM with dust ; 
Or, clotted into points and hanging 

loose, 
Mix'd with the knightly growth that 

fringed his lips. 
So like a shatter'd column lay the 

King; 
Not like that Arthur who, with lance 

in rest. 
From spur to plume a star of tourna- 
ment. 
Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and 

charged 
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedi- 

vere: 
<' Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall 

I go? 
Where shall I hide my forehead and 

my eyes ? 
For now I see the true old times are 

dead, 
When every miming brought a noble 

chance, 
And every chance brought out a noble 

knight. 
Such times have been not since the 

light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
But now the whole Hound Table is dis- 
solved 
Which was an image of the mighty 

world ; 
And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
And the days darken round me, and 

the years, 
Among new men, strange faces, other 

minds." 

And slowly answered Arthur from 
the barge : 
<' The old order changeth, yielding 
place to new, 



r 




IPV 



THE VOICE AND TEE PEAK. 



11 tiioa Bhauldit n 



0, let 



uaulu for me lllehl anil 
ur what ara men botter Ihan absep or 
Tlwt nouriah a blind Ufa irlUila tbe 
■ i". 

ii>g Qod, the; lift not Lands 

BoUl ior tbomaalTeg and thcua who 

call Iliem trleiHl ? 
For ta tbs wliolo rouud eattb is every 

Bound by gold cbaliia about the feet 

' FaHwell. I am Eolng a long 

Bel^t— If liuleei 



(For all IT 



A IB tloaded wiUi i 
^vUlou 1 



Wliere fall* not hail, or r 

' ever viiid blows loudly -, but 
lies 
Deep-meado«'d, bappy, fair wl 

And Iwwery Iiollowa crown'd wl 

Wliaru I will heoJ me of my grteTc 



Sogsldbc 



10 barge witb oar 
nk, like aomo full- 



RnSea her ptico cold plume, and takes 

the flood 
ynOi Bwarthy weba. Long Blood Sir 



k 

d 



3 walling died 



slowly clonib 
The luat liaidfootBtop of l.li 
TheuGO mark'd the black 

yel mid eiied. 



% 



cornea ag^n ; but— If ho Co. 
le. be you d>Tli Queeiu In yon 

Bbriflfd and wnird, ilio 

tlmi high day, wheii, clolhod 

llrtne JlElil, 
ty sUKKlbeiDco hia throne in >1 



Then from tbe dawn it nem'a 
enme, but taint 
As from beyond the limit of lbs « 
Like the la«c eclio bom of a great 
Sounds, ns if Bome fair city were 

Arounil a king returning fiom Li> 

Theteat once more be moTed about, 
and i-lomb 
E'en to tbe highest ho could ellmb^anl 

Straiiiiiig his eyes boncalh an arch et 

hand. 
Or thought he saw, the apeck that b«M 

the king. 
Down that long water openlug ou tlia 

Somewliero far off, pa«» on, and oa. 

From leas w leaa and vani-ih Inin ligbC 



waatonaof Iho three. 
Klghtlngalea sang tn hlB irooda : 
Ttio Muter vu tkt nway : 
Nlslitl 11 galea worblcil niiil aang 
Of n pBBaion that laalx but a da« 
StiU in tlie honae In liis colQn ' 

of eourtesy lay. 
Two dead men hare I known 



With a love that ever will be : 

Xhrcadead men have I loved, ai 

art iBit ot tbe ihiee. 



LB lone ^ 
^on-ruHk] 



Oreon-rudilnglronitborua/ ihroMid 



TO THE QUEEN. 



867 



All iiight have I hoard the voice 
Bave over the rocky bar, 
But thou wert silent in heaven, 
Above thee glided the star. 

Hast thou no voice, O Peak, 
That standest high above all ? 
•* 1 am the voice of the Peak, 
I roar and rave for 1 fall. 

*' A thousand voices go 
To North, South, East and West, 
They leave the heights and are trou- 
bled. 
And moan and sink to their rest. 

" The fields are fair beside them. 
The chestnut towers in his bloom ; 
But they— they feel the desire of the 

deep- 
Fall, and follow their doom. 

" The deep has power on the height, 
And the height nas power on the deep; 
Thev are raised for ever and ever, 
And sink again into sleep,** 

Not raised for ever and ever. 

But when their cycle is o'er, 

The valley, the voice, the peak, the 

star. 
Pass, and are found no more. 

The Peak is high and flush'd 
At his highest with sunrise fire : 
The peak is high, and the stars are highi 
And the thought of a man is higher. 

A voice below the voice, 
And a height beyond the height 
Our hearing is not hearing. 
And our seeing is not sight. 

The voice and the Peak 
Par into heaven withdrawn. 
The lone glow and the long roar 
Green-rusoing from the rosy thrones 
of dawul 



TO THE QUEEN. • 

EPILOGUE TO THE IDYLS. 

O LOYAL to the royal in thyself. 
And loyal to thy land, as this to thee— > 
Bear witness, that rememberable clav, 
When, pale as yet, and fever-worn, the 

Ptince 
Who scarce had plnck'd his flickering 

life again 
From half-way down the shadow of th» 

grave, 
Pait ¥rith thee thro* thy people ana 

their love. 
And London roU'd one tide of Joy thro* 

all 
Her trebled millions, and loud leagues 

of man 



And welcome I witxtess, too, the sileni 

cry. 
The prayer of many a race and creed, 

and clime— 
Thunderless lightnings striking under 

sea 
From sunset and sunrise of all thy 

realm. 
And that true North, whereof wo lat^ 

ly heard 
A strain to shame us ** keep you to 

yourselves : 
So loyal is too costly! friends— your 

love 
Is but a burden : loose the bond, and 



go 



>i 



Is this the tone of empire ? here the 

faith 
lliat made us rulers ? this, indeed, her 

voice 
And meaning, whom the roar of Hou- 

goumont 
Left mightiest of all peoples under 

heaven ? 
What shock has foord her since, that 

she should speak 
So feebly ? wealthier— wealthier— hour 

bv hour ! 
The voice of Britain, or a sinking land. 
Some third-rate isle half- lost among 

her seas? 
There rang her voice, when the full 

city peal'd 
Thee aim thy Prince! The loyal to their 

crown 
Are loyal to their own far sons, who 

love 
Our ocean-empire with her boundless 

homes 
For ever-broadening England, and her 

throne 
In our vast Orient, and one isle, one isle. 
That knows not her own greatness : if 

she knows 
And dreads it we are falPn. ^But 

thou, my Queen, 
Not for itself, but thro* thy living love 
For one to whom I made it o'er his 

grave 
Sacred, accept this old Imperfect tale. 
New-old, and shadowing Sense at war 

with Soul 
Rather than that gray king, whose 

name, a ghost 
Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from 

mountain peak. 
And cleaves to calm and cromlech 

still : or him 
Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, 

one 
Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a 

time 
That hover*d between war and wanton* 



ness, 

ngs i 
take withal 



And crownines and dethronements : 



The poet's blessing, and his trust that; 

Heaven 
Will blow the tempest in the distance 

back 



J 



wmrmm 



\ 



n 



I 



Fiom Uilne and oun : for lome 

cruel, wliujnark, 
Or witely ot uuivl*Jy, sign* of « 



856 J lF£iC0.1fA' rO THE DUKE OF EDlL<nVRUB. 

nd all the sultry polma et IndU 

Aleiand 10X111. 

Uii enpes ol Aflio ns oii h\Ss of 

Tbe Man^a aud that Islo of Conll- 

Marie-A leiondioviit. 



And voriiy trackUjiga to Uie tranAifiut 
And Berco or r>aieleu looscnen of tlie 
Aiiil Softiieu bieedii^g Bcom of Binijils 
Oi Cowaidlee, tlis child of lust fat 



Ot Art, 

And that which knows, but rueful fur 

And ihM which knotra not, ruling Ihitt 

whleU knows 
XoltB (mnhami; the goalof IJila great 

Lies Iwyond rielit : yol— If our slowlj- 

Aud crown'il Itepubllc'suroniilng com- 

Thftt sared her muiy tlmea, iiot fall— 

AtB nioniinB shadows huger Ibon llie 

gloomier 

The darki 



whloli forego 

Arkueuoftbat 

Vhere all oC high ai 



Uoly Jl 



A WELCOJfE TO THE DUKE AXl 

DUCHESS OF EDIKBUKGU. 



The Son of him with whoir 



Who ma; 
Has give 



ilr Prince his 01 






And welcome, Husslsii llowet, a pen- 
To Britain, wlien lier fiowon boL'lii 
loblowl 
From lovo to Iotc. from boms to honie 

From mothar unto molher, alitely 
bride, 

Mnrle-Alci audro vna. 

The gnlrten netts nlons Iho steppes la 
And at ihy name lbs Tarlat tents 



,^ 



Fair emptrei broncliing, both, In loitj 

Tct Harold's England tell (o KonsMV 

Yet tblno own land has bow'J Id 
Tartar honies 
Since English Harold gsvo Iia tbiniie % 

Alesaiirtrovns. 
For thrones and peoples ore ns vidll 

And lloal or ^!q, In eiidleas ebb tnd 

But who love best liaro b«t Iho 

That Love by right divine 




QUEEN MARY. 



DRAMATIS PERSONA!:. 



?n«ei Mary, 
hilip, JCina rf Naples and Sicily, of- 
ter^tHvrtU JCinff of Spain, 

The PrincoM EHT'abeth. 

Reginald Pole, Cardiual and Papal Le- 
gato. 

Simon Kenard, Spanish Ambassador, 

IjO Sieur de Noailles, French Ambassa- 
dor, 

Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Can- 
terbury. 

Sir Nicholas Heath, Archbishop of 
York ; Lord Chancellor after Gai- 
diner. 

Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devon, 

JLord William Howaril, nftrrtpards Lord 
Howard awl Lord High Admiral. 

Ix>rd Williams of Thame. 

Lord Paget. 

I^rd Petre. 

Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winches- 
ter and Lord Chancellor. 

Edmund Bonner, Bisliop ry London, 

Thomas Thirlby, Bishop o/Ely. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt, I Insurrectionary 

Sir Thomas Staffonl ) 



leaders. 



Sir Ralph Bagenhall. 
Sir Robert Southwell- 
Sir Henry Redingtield. 
Sir William Gecit 



Sir Thomas White, Ijord Mayor of lAm 

don. 
The Duke of Alva, ^ Attewling on 
The Count de Feria, ) Philip, 

Peter Martyr. 
Father Cole. 
Father Bourne. 
Villa Garcia. 
Soto. 

AnCy K^^kt, \ ^^herenU, o/ Wuatt, 

Peters, Gcni/emawn/' Lord Howard. 
Roger, Servant to Noailles. 
William, Servant to Wyatt. 
Steward of Household to the Princess 
Old Nokes and Nokes. (Elizabeth. 
Marchioness of Exeter, Mother of 

Courtenay. 
Lady Clarence, ) Ladies in 

Lady Magdalen Dacres, [■ waiting to 
Alice, J the Qvieen 

Maid of Honor to the Princess Eliza- 

^^*"' } Tioo Country Wives, l^^^- 

Lords and other Attendants, Members 
of the Privy Council, Members of 
Parliament, two Gentlemen, Alder- 
men, Citizens, Peasants, Ushers, 
Messengers, Guards, Pages, &c. 



ACT I. 

Scene T.— -Aldgate ricfUy decorated. 
Crowd. Marshalmen. 

Marshalman, Stand back, keep a 
clear lane. When will her Majesty 
pass, sayst thou ? why now, even now ; 
wherefore draw back your heads and 
your horns before I break them, and 
make what noise you will with your 
tongues, so it be not treason. Long 
live Queen Mary, the lawful and leffitt 
mate daughter of Harry the Eighth. 
Shout, knaves ! 

Citizens. Long live Queen Mary ! 

1 at. lliat's a hard word, legiti- 
mate; what does it mean ? 

2 at. It means a bastard* 

3 CU. Nay, it means true-bom, 

1 at. Why, didn't the ParUament 
make her a bastard ? [beth. 

2 at. No \ it was the lady Eliza- 



3 at. That was after, man;' that 
was after. 

1 at. Then which is the bastard ? 

2 at. Troth, they be both bastards 
by Act of Parliament and Council. 

3 at. Ay. the Parliament can make 
every true-born man of us a bastard. 
Old rfokes, can*t it make thee a bas- 
tard? thou shouldst know, for thou 
art as white as tliree Christmasses. 

O. Nokes (dreamily). Who*s a-pass- 
ing? King Edward or King lUch- 
ard? 

3 at. No, old Nokes. 

O, Nokes. It's Harry! 

3 at. It's Queen Mary. 

O, Nokes* The blessed Mary's a-pass- 
ing ! [Falls on his knees, 

Nokes. Let father alone, my mas- 
ters ! he's past your questioning. 

3 at. Answer thou for him, then I 
thou furt no such cockerel thyself^ £ac 



r 




MP 



seo 



QUEEN MARY. 



IS tmi ol old 



WM bom r Ibe loll onil ot old 

HuTjr Uifl Boyenth. 

Nnliet. EUI tlinlwiiibcrorebiutiird- 
nukklug ^gan. 1 WB9 bom ' 

Kbit?, and H they cou't maka 

3 CiC But If FsrllBment am malce 
ID Queens bMlsnl, vby, It followenll 
IB more IbM Hibv rnii niaka Ihee ouo, 

..hoarolraj'ciruioknea? i""! ""f n* 

olbo«'«, ond bold o' tbe bi 



Q- uiBuwKjnndbont- 

iddowiittliioeta. 

liaktt. 1 wm born at a truo man 
' a rtng'd «!Ie, uid I can't arsno 



lyold won 
What BTB -jaa e 



ji[K.n It 

ling o[ baitattly , 

- -BO? I'll liBTB you flngg'd and burnt 

iVlr. Ho bwcan'by Uio Kood. 
Whewt 
2 Clt. Hark I tha trnnipeU. 
[ The proffiiion paiiri, Mary ami 
EllzabeUi riditig lide bu aide, and 
iliiappeart uhUct the ffhie. 
ntiami. LonE lire Queen Mary I 
..owuwltbillliariorgl UodiaTeHer 
finut i lad deatb to NorUtumberlBiid t 

{£!«»(. 

STanrnt Two Gentlemen. 
I Cent By Ood'sUfibittuoblocrBii- 
iro. right roToL 

ry tOKlBy ; ' 



M who renorted it) thatdie 

..-jenal Wftn»tBad wiib five 

hundred iorw, and the Qu«ai (tbo- 
sonie tny they be nineh dlrldedl took 
horhand, calL'd horBwcct slaWr, and 
kin'd not Iter alone, but all Ibe ladies 
oljior (ollowJuB. 

swUV 

iiiiBlilct tbera _ 

for one, who li 10 be mads Lotd Chail' 
rellor, and idll pounce like a wild 
' iitutt out of his cBflB to wonj Cmnmer. 
1 Cmt And f urUujruiorB, niy danah- 
ei mid that »ben thero nxe a talk ol 
Jie lolo rebellion, ahe apoke orcn of 
HorlhumbsTlnnd pitifully, and of tlie 
cooil iJUly Jana as a poor Innoceul 
-'■"■■ -'lohad but obeyed her father; 

.hermore, aba Bald Ihntnn .mn 

In hoc timu thould be 

1 Gtat, There !• I 
agidiut Ibem. 1 kno 

■i dm. I aupMne yr 

Iha niH'lil, lias offei'd U 



Joy, tliere will be plenty to eu 



In her hour o( 



It for h 



Ip, tlio pope and Lhe Deril. I Inullt 

1. Gent. She tl going now 1o the 
Tower to loose the priioneia there, ami 
amouK them Couctenay. to be mads 
£at I mT Deroii, of royal blood, of splen- 
did featun, whom tfie council and ill 
her people idali Ler to marry. May i: 
be BO. fur ve are many of ni Calholiri, 
but few Paplita, and the Hoi CogpcJ 
Icre nill go mad npon It. 

2 Gnl. Waa Bhe iiol betrotli-d In 
her ludiyhocHl to the Cinal £nipei«i 
hiouclf. 

1 Omf. Ay butbQ'Btoooia. 

2 Gent. And again to lier ceraiD 
Beeinald Pole, now Cardinal, bal 1 

broken before bU day, 

1 Gent. O, lbs Pope conld diinenig 
witlihli Caidliislate, and bis acWe. 
and bis breakiun, it tliat were all : but 
will yon not follow the procewion ? 

2 Oait. No; Iliareseenenuughfoc 
thlH day. 

1 Oent. Well. I ahall follow : if I 
call get near enough I slinl! Judge afOl 
Tiy omi eyes whelliHr Hcc tirace in- 
-line to tMs Bpleudld Bciun i.t Flan- 

aLarabetbl 
:rr™. -m Bimaburji 
Frankfort, Zurich, W 




QUEEN MARY, 



Kay, for bare shame of inconsistency, 
She cannot pass her traitor council by, 
To maJke me headless. 

Mart. That might be forgiven. 
I tell you, Hy, my Lord, x ou do not 

own 
The bodily presence in the Eucharist. 
Their wafer and perpetual sacrihce* 
Your creed will be your death. 

Cran, Step after step, 

Thro* many voices crying right and 

left, [church. 

Have I climbM back into the primal 
And stand within the porch, and Christ 

with me: [faith. 

My flight were such a scandal to the 
The downfall of so many simple souls, 
I dare not leave my post. 

MarU But you divorced 

Queen Catharine and her father; hence, 

her hate 
Will burn till you are bum*d. 

Cran, I cannot help it. 

The Canonists and Schoolmen were 

with me. 
•*Thou Shalt not wed thy brother's 

wife.*'— 'Tis written, 
*• They shall be childless." True, Mary 

was bom, [a bride 

But France would not accept her for 
As being born from incest; and this 

wrought [you know, 

Upon the king; and child by child, 
were momentary sparkles out as 

quick [his doubts 

Almost as kindled ; and ne brought 
And fears to me. Peter, I'll swear for 

him 
He did believe the bond incestuous. 
But wherefore am I trenching on the 

time [steps a mile 

That should already have seen your 

From mo and Lambeth ? God be with 

you ! Go 

Mart, Ah, but how fierce a letter 

you wrote against [you 

Their superstition when they slandcr'd 
For setting u]) a mass at Canterbury. 
To please the Queen. 

Cran. It was a wheedling monk 
Set up the mass. 

Mart, I know it, my good Lord. 
But you so bubbled over with hot 

terms 
Of Satan, liars, blasphemy. Antichrist, 
She never will forgive yoa. Fly my 

Lord, fly! [power to bum! 

Cran, I wrote it, and God grant me 

Mart, They have given me a safe 

conduct : for all that 

I dare not stay, I fear, I fear. I see you. 

Dear friend, for the last time ; iare- 

well, and fly. 
Cran, Fly and farewell, and let me 

die the death. [Ex, Peter Martyr. 
Enter Old Servant. 
O, Serv. O, kind and gentle master, 

the Queen's Officers 
Are here in force to take you to the 

Tower. 



Cran, Ai 



861 

Lv, ffentle fHend, admit 
them. I will go. 
I thank my God it is too late to fly. 

[Exewtt, 
ScEXE III.— St Paul's Cross. 
Father Bourne in the Pulpit, A crowd. 
Marchioness of Exeter, Courtenay. 
The Sieur de Noailles and his man 
Roger xn/r(nit of the stage. Hubbub, 
Noail, Hast thou let fall those pa- 
pers in the palace ? 
Boy. Ay, sir. 

NoaiX, •* There will be no peace for 
Mary till Elizabeth lose her head.*' 
Hog, Ay, sir. 

Noail. And the other. ''Long live 
Elizabeth the Queen." 

Rog, Ay, sir; she needs must tread 
upon them. 

Noail. Well. 

These beastly swine make such a 
grunting here, [saying. 

I cannot catch what father Bourne m 
Hog. Quiet a moment, my masters; 
hear what the shaveling has to say 
for himself. 
Crowd, Hush— hear. 
Bourne, —and so this unhappy land, 
long divided in itself, andsever'd from 
the faith, will return into the one true 
fold, seeing that our gracious Virgin 
Queen hath— 
Crowd, No pope! no pope! 
Boger (to those aJxmt Aim, mimicking 
Bourne), —hath sent for the holy 
legate of the holy father the Pope, 
Cardinal Pole, to ^ve us all that holy 
absolution which— 
1 at. Old Bourne to the life ! 
4 at. Holy absolution! holy In- 
quisition ! 
3 at, Down with tho Papist. 

[Hubbub, 
Bourne, —and now that your cood 
bishop, Bonner, who hath lam so long 
under tx>nds for tho faith — [Hubbuif, 
Noail. Friend lioger, steal thou in 
among the crowd. 
And get the swine to shout Elizabeth. 
Yon gray old Gospeller, sour as mid- 
winter, 
Begin with him. 

Jiog. (goes.) By the moss, old friend, 
we'll have no pope here while the La<ty 
Elizabeth lives. 

Gospeller. Art thou of the true faith 
fellow, that swearest by the mass ? 

Boa. Ay, that am I, new converted, 
but the old leaven sticks to my tongue 
yet. 

1 C»^ He says right ; by the mass 
we'll have no mass hei*e. 

Voices <\f tfie Crowd, Peace! hear 
him; let his own words damn the 
Papist. From thine own mouth I 
ju(%e thee— tear him down. 

Bourne, —and since our Gracious 
Queen, let me call her our second Vir* 
nn Mary, hath begun, to re-edify tha 
voetempla— 



t 




QUEEN MARY. 



1 Cil. Virgin Mary 1 we'll huTs : 
cirglns bsiH— vail likTS the Lm. 



Maider-d In 

BRTD llll 



youTMlvfls by JiQudreil 
onrtejiarl ■ rouTtonHj 



My «,«■ 
neforyoH 



111 tbe Spmimrd 
youiler'H latUir 

olil enpliiB Bwrguyle: look 
Queen? {tlie alty. 

er him.boyal and pelt hllil from 
Vhry leiic Knmm anU M'oa tbe 
SpaniiVih- Erttail on Ifie afher 
iMe MarcliiDiiew ol £xeKc aiul 
Aciendaiiu. 



. Insc lier Lend- 
iiuii maiioi lor Fran™, 
Anil U her peonle, angdr'il Iliereapnn, 
Arlee ogaiiigt tme and dethioue tbe 

Queen— 
■niM make* for Franee. 
And ItlbreedeiinfiiBlunaDyiray— 
Tbat uwhes [or Fiuuce. 

Good ,Uy, 11 ■ ■ ' - 



n 



beard lliaC 
. MymotberuU, Qoup 



lIoBlllea. 

[;. YonlookMa 

Wby not? 



poorbouee lo-nigbt. 
TVe miElii enllyenyou. Divers honeet 

The Duke it Snllolk lately freed from 

Sir Peter Carew and Sir ThottiBa "W 1 W.X , 



oait. The Gun 
II play well, an 



ChemtV 



Xnall. Ay, bnt wD play wlUi Heart. 
King of IfraiicB, 

His Hlgbiieu mukea Ui* mores icmH 

the ehaniiel, (lao nieHeueeii 

We aiiawer him with, uun, aud iben 

Tbat go between ue. 

court. Wby, aueli n satne, ilr, Here 

whole yean a piaj'liiK. 
Jfonii. Kay ; not to louE I trmt 
Tbat all depeiide |pl«vt-- 

Dpo» the aklll niid anlftneM uTI 
Conrl. TheltiUBli skilfBlatlcr 
A-oail. Very. WJ to 

Com. AndtbeBtaketlOgli; 
Xoall. Bat not beyonil yoyr nial 
<iiurl. Well, I'm tbe linl of plHc _ 
Hbnllwiji. leomtMiun 

Xaail- With our mliiee aiiil* ' 

And HI you well atleiid to the 

I Ibiiik you may- Itamm 

finirl. Wheudotoume«tf ■ 

Ann!'. Ttt-nUh) 

Coarl. laeide). Iwillbetlun,^ 

fellow's at bis trieln— — i^™ 

Deep— I Blittll fstliom Urn. lAlM 

QoDd morning, Koalllse. 

[Kj^ COOReTHB 

Xoail. GDOd-d», niv l«nL SUaoj 

game of chen l a King 

Tlini with her DwuinwiiaijlBjiu 



Too priiirelyfoT a 

Skli» BTBry way, froiu leriiy ot ti 

Well, we Bhall use him somehow, M 

Uiat Qntdlner 
And Slmtm Renard apy n** ^^. -.« 
Too early. Boger, Uilukeat (bou tbH 

Suspected lliee to be my man ? 
"du. Km one. 1 

Snail. Ko I the disguise wt* uerfe 
Lei's amy I [£»■ 

BCBSB rv.— 
l-alacc. 

CmiTl. SoyetRDiI, [m<L! 

Unless my friends and nilrmn ijeiO'. 

A gnodlier-lookiug fellow t' - 

T-hiU]!. 

Pah ! Itrallor! 

The Queen is 111 luttlsed : shall t ton 
'"'— '--!almoattalk'diueliito : yetUNj 
Affii^bts me somewhat i tub- 
&&V\a,vn Bolin^bridie hath I 



QUEEN MARY. 



sea 



Good now, my Lady Queen, tho* by 

your age, 
And by your looks you are not worth 

the having, 
Yet by your crown you are. 

[Seeing Elizabeth. 

The Princess there? 

If I tried her and la— she's amorous. 

Have we not heard of her in Edward's 

time, [Lord Admiral? 

Her freaks and frolics with the late 

I do believe she'd yield. I should be 

still [knows— 

A party in the state ; and then, who 

£liZ' What are you musing on, my 

Lord of Devon ? 
Ckmrt, Has not the Queen— 
Eliz, Done what, Sir ? 

Court. —Made you follow 

The Lady Suffolk and the Lady Len- 
You, [nox. 

The heir presumptive. [it. 

Eliz. Why do you ask ? you know 
Court. You needs must bear it hard- 
ly- 
Eltz. No, indeed ! 

1 am utterly submissive to the Queen. 
Court, well, I was musinc upon 
that ; the Queen [be friends. 

Is both my foe and yours ; we should 
Eliz. My Lord, the hatred of anoth- 
er to us 
Is no true bond of friendship. 

Court. Might it not 

Bo the rough preface of some closer 
bond? 
EliZ' My Lord, you late were loosed 
from out the Tower. 
Wliere, like a butterfly in a chrysalis. 
You spent your life ; that broken, otit 
you flutter [would settle 

Thro* the new world, go zigzas, now 
Upon this flower, now that ; but all 
things here [ed 

At court are known ; you have solicit- 
The Queen, and been rejected. 

Court. Flower, she ! 

Half faded ! but you, cousin, ai-e fresh 

and sweet [tried. 

As the first flower no bee has ever 

Eliz. Are you the bee to try me? 

why, but now 

I called you butterfly. 

Ornrt. You did me wrong, 
I love not to be called a butterfly : 
"Why do you call me butterfly ? 
Eliz, Why do you go so gay then ? 
Court. Velvet and gold. 

This dress was made me as the Earl of 

Devon 
To take my seat in : looks it not 
right royal ? 
Eliz. So royal that the Queen for- 
bade' your wearing it. 
Court. I wear it then to spite her. 
Eliz. My Ix)rd, my Jjord ; 

I see you in the Tower again. Her 

majesty 
Hears you afFect the Prince— prelates 
kneel to you,— 



Court. I am the noblest blood in 
Europe, Madam. 
A Courtenayof Devon, and her cous- 
in. 
Eliz^ She hears you make youi 
boasts that after all 
She means to wed you. Folly, my good 
Lord. [the state 

Court. How folly ? a great party in 
Wills me to wed her. 

Eliz. Failing her, my Lord, 

Doth not as great a party in the state 
Will you to wed me ? 
Court. Even so, fair lady. 

Eliz, You know to flatter ladies. 
Court. Nay, I meant 

True matters of the heart. 

Eliz. My heart, my Lord^ 

Is no great party in the state as yet. 
Court. Great, said you? nay, you 
shall be ^'eat. I love you, 
Lay my life in your hands. Can you 
be close ? 
Eliz. Can you, my Lord ? 
Court, Close as a miner's casket. 
Listen : [basisador, 

The King of France, Noailles the Am- 
The Duke of Suffolk and Sir Peter 
Carew. [others, 

Sir Thomas Wyatt, I myself, some 
Have sworn this Spanish marriage 
shall not be. [jecture— 

If Mary will not hear us— well— con- 
Were I in Devon with my wedded 
bride, [ear ; 

Tlie people there so worship me— Your 
You sliall be Queen. 

Eliz. You speak too low, my Lord ; 
I cannot hear you. 
Court, 1*11 repeat it. 

Eliz. No ! 

Stand farther off, or you may lose youp 
head. [sweet sake. 

. Court' I have a head to lose for your 
Eliz. Have you, my Lord? Best 
keep it for your own. 
Nay, pout not, cousin. [indeed 

Not many friends are mine, except 
Among the many. I believe you mine ; 

[well. 
And so you may continue mine, fare- 
And that at once. 

Enter Mary behind. 
Mary. Whispering— leagued 

together 
To bar me from my Philip. 
Court. Pray — consider— 

Eliz. (sceinff the Queen). Well, 
that's a noble horse of yours, my 
Lord. [day, 

I trust that he will carry you well to- 
And heal your headache. 
Court. You are wild; what 

headache ? 
Heartache, perchance ; not headache. 
Eliz. (asufe to Courtenay). Are 

you blind ? 
[Courtenay sees the Queen and exit. 

Exit Mary. 
Enter Lord William Kqnn wd. 



f 




QUEEN 

It my Lord o( Devon? 
Hn wUh my Lonl o( 



1. refon 
IT plot I 



Niky, li by Etisuon you ImBr 

Speiik not Ihereot— no, not to ynnr 
Ixfflb Irloiid. [It. Still— 

J*«tynu Hluiuld IM confouiirled with 
Periuda ma tBilaTar— us tlio nrleit uys, 
[dead bode. 
Ton know your Latln-quiBt ns a 
'^liiitwus iiiyl^rd ul Devon tailing 

EUi. '■WhoUiorliHtoiamesnytMng 
1 follow your guod uduubsI, griieioua 



Qniot a4 a dead body, 
Haa. 1 ■• 

I do not cu 

Tall Conrteiiay iinthi 

lie liatb not nmny), 
JJaylovo a puppy e 



Yon do right well. 

' UTiancoUor 

virtue 'in lliin. 
a most IS doE 
for no niure 
[up loeetber, 



So many years In yon acoucwdTowor— 

[to it, niece, 

RtOi taken to tbia CaurUnay. Look 

Ue bath no (eiico wheu Gardiner lucr- 

tionshiBi; [know Utm 

AUuozesoiit ; yet him— bnransa tboy 
Tho last Whlta ItOBs, tbo last Fhuita- 

SenaC rpeopla 

(Nay, tbora Is Cardinal Polo, too), Ihe 

Hay, ' iklnBliollHe, 

That you Bbnll innriyblm, make him 

Elii. Do they Bay BO. good uncle? 

YoQ ehould be plaiit and open with tae, 

Yoil should iioi play upon me. 

Eli-.. >io,eood uncle. 

r.nter Oarrl. The Quoi-n would see 
)-our Graee npon the momanl. 
UU:. Why, my ford Blehop ? 

Card. rthiukBhuueanatoniitnael 

To AehTidEc, or aoiae Diber eouuti? 
Eli:. Whv, my lord Bishoo ? 
Oiarl. I do but brtug U: 




\ ^.\iiVi\a\»,-T-to,I)B.lM 



QUEEN MARY, 



865 



Alice* Goodly enough, your Grace, 

and yet, methinks, 
I liave seeu goodlier. 

Mary' Ay ; some waxen doll 

Thy baby eyes have reated on, belike ; 
Alfred and white, the fashion of our 

land. [her soul) 

But my good mother came (God rest 
Of Spain, and 1 am Spanish in myself, 
And in uiy likings. 

Alict, JBy your Grace's leave 

Your royal mother ciime of Spahi, but 

took [royal father 

To the English red and white. Your 
(For so they say) was all pure lily and 
In his youth, and like a lady. [rose 

Mary. O, just Go<l 1 

Sweet mother, you had time and cause 

enough 
To sicken of Ids lilies and his roses. 
Cast off. betray'd, defamed, divorced, 

forlorn ! [forgiveness. 

And then the king— that traitor past 
The false archbishop fawning on him, 

married 
Tlio mother of Elizbetli— a heretic 
Ey*n as she is ; but God hath sent mo 

liex« 
To take such order with all heretics 
That it shall be, before I die. as tho* 
My father ond my brotlicr had not 

lived. [Jane, 

What wast thou saying of this Lady 
Now in the Tower ? 
Alice, Why, Madam, sho was pass- 
ing [her. 
Some chapel down in Essex, and with 
Lady Anno 'Wharton, and the Lady 
Anne [stood up 
Bow'd to tho Pyx ; but Lady Jane 
Stiff as the very backbone of neresy. 
And wherefore bow ye not, says Lady 

Anno [and Earth ? 

To him within there who made Heaven 

I can not, aiul I dare not, tell your 

What I-ady Jane replie<l. [Grace 

Mary. But I will have it. 

Alice, r.ho said— pray pardon me, 

and pity her- 

She hath liarkcnM evil counsel— ah ! 

The baker made him- [sho said, 

Mary. Monstroub f blasphemous ! 

Sho ought to burn. Hence, thou {exit 

Alice). No— being traitor [a child 
Her head will fall : Bhall it ? she is but 
We do not kill the child for doing that 
His fatlier whipt him into doing— a 

head [that mine 

So full of grace and beauty ! would 
Were half as gracious ! O, My lord to 

be, 
My love, for thy sake only. 
I am eleven years older than he is. 
But will he care for that ? 
No, by the holy Virgin, being noble. 
But love me only : then the bastard 

sprout. 
My siste**, is far fairer tlian myself, 
will he be drawn to her? 
No, being of the true faith with myself. 



Paget is for him — for to wed with 

Spain [against him ; 

Would treble England — Gardiner is 
The Council, people. Parliament 

against him ; [hated me; 

But 1 will have. him! My hani father 
My brother rather hated me than 

loved ; [Virgin, 

My sister cowers and hates me. Holy 
Plead with thy blessed Son; grant me 

my prayer; [lead 

Give me my Philip; and we two will 
The living waters of the Faith again 
Back thro' their widow'd channel 

here, and watch [of old, 

The parch'd banks I'olling incense, ns 
To heaven, and kindled with the palms 

of Christ! 

Enter Usher. 
Who waits, sir ? [lor. 

Usher. Madam, the Lord Chancel- 
Mary. Bid him come in (Enter 

Gardiner.) Good-morning, my 

good Jjonl. [Exit Usher. 

Card, That every morning of your 

Majesty 
May be most good, is every morning's 

prayer [Gardiner. 

Of your most loyal subject, Stephen 

Mary. Como you to tell me this, 

my Lord? 
Gard. And more. 

Your people have begun to learn your 

worth. [debts. 

Your pious wish to pay King Edward's 
Your lavish household curb'd, and 

the remission [people. 

Of half that subsidy levied on the 
Make all tongues praise and all hearts 

beat for you. 
I'd have you yet more loved : the 

realm is poor, [withdraw 

The exchequer at neap-ebb : we might 
Part of our goiTison at Calais. 

Mary. Calais ! 

Our one point on the main, tho gate of 

Fi*ance ! 
I am Queen of England; take mine 

eyes, mine heart. 
But clo not lose me Calais. 

Gard. Do not fear it. 

Of that hereafter. I say your Grace 

is loved. [your friend 

That I may keep you thus, who am 
And ever faithful counsellor, might I 

speak? 
Mary. I can forespcak your speak- 
ing. Would I marry 
Prince Philip, if all England hate him ? 

That is [another: 

Your question, and I front it with 
Is it England, or a party ? Now, your 

answer [my dresi* 

Gard. Jly answer is, I wear beneath 

A shirt of mail : uiy house hath been 

assaulted, [lace, 

And when 1 walk abroad, the popu- 
With fingers pointed like so many dag- 
gers, LPhilii? •. 
Stab me \u tawc^j, \i\«&Vcw^ "^^tslxw tvvv\ 



Ue 



QUEEN 
n I tleop. n hanilt«<l meu-nt- 

Gusrd mj poor iln;ani» for England. 

Men Hon 1.1 iiiufUer me. 
BecauBe Wicy iMnk ma lavoror of tlita 

ifary. Aud that were liard ainn 
you, my Lord Chiiiioallor. [von— 
Ganl. But our young Eail a( Do 
Mary. Earl o( Devon? 

I (reed Mm from the tower, placed 
MmnlCoun; pool- 

made tilm Earl of ]>evan, uid— Uie 
' * ' Lltb and wealtli ou 
MmneMiie, [dog. 

.nd roll* IdmulC In »rrion lllu a 
I'ard. More like n Kliool-Dof Umt 



;l. 1 will liBlp you, Madnin, 

to tho otniOBt. All tlie clnitd. 
— Bratetnl. Ipulpiled 

Ton have ouBted tho mock priest, re- 
Hl6 Bheplierd of St. Pcler, iHucd ILa 

And bron^ u> bade Uia maia. I am 

all thanka [well, 

'oGod nnrtloyourGiocB : yatlknow 
four people, and I go with tliom BO 

(ac, [nera to iilny 

Vill brook nor Pope nor Spnnlanl 
nie tviant, oc lu eonunon wealth or 

ehuich. 
ilari) (.ihmrinn the plclure\. la tills 

tha face of one wlio piaj-a Uib 

(tyrant? [gentle? 

petusB it] It is not goodly, oy. and 
Canl. >Udam. metlilnks a cold 
taco and a hauahty . 
And when your HtglineBB Ut^ks of 
Courtenay— [life 

Ay, true— a goodlr one. I would Lis 
"Wero half as goodly vskU). 
Mani. What la that yon rnuttir? 
Garil. Oh, Madam, taka It bluntly; 
marry Phil In. 
And be stepmother of a sronj nt foiis ! 



It then remains tor your poor Gar- 
diner, What lew 
joc sUll rare tt> trust him some- 



ifarg. rilh 
ed to tho ID 



e the Bcondal aound- 



nam. All tny hope h 

. may ho found a eomidal . 
Maru. You oDend na. 

Bnr<7. (anidrt. These princes nr 
like ebildreu, must be pbysick-il 



Tbo bitter in 



Tho An 



ibusandor from 
Good 



if trntrring). A 
your majesty. 
If. And 1 abnuld i 
■TO a happy m 



yet. l\%nt 



Xoail. Madam, my maaleT bear 

■wlUi maei alarm, repaln- 

That yoii may man* Philip, I*rlnni of 

Foreseeing, with, vhate'cr nuwiUlD^ 

Thai If iblaPbtlipbo tho Utnlnrkinr 
OI England, nud at war nitli blm, 

your Grace [nai, 

And kingdom will bo suek'd Into iha 
Ay, llio" you long for peiwei wfaetv- 

fore,myma8Wr. [will, 

If but to provB your MaJeilT'a good 
m„..ij ..I.. 1 — ne fivA treity 



Pray God be do n 
Must be ronleiit Oriui uuu^ 
farewell. 

Snail, ito'iiff, nrnrniV I wanM 
your answer hail been other, M " 
For 1 tocewo ilark days. 

Your master woiks agaliut me 

1 do belleie he holp Xorthuml 
Ae^uat me. ( 

\oail. Nay, pare raiitasy 
Wliy tUould be more agnliiat jn 

Uart(. Will you hew , 

Mary of Scotland, — lot I hare iiot 



My a 



!lr of Enelaiidi ami my 
itber. [with 

ake ttaa crown of Scotloin 

mark'd her for my broihct Kd- 
[Irom Scotland 



&.'^,'cnu, :)aai kliig 



QUEEN MARY. 



m 



In order to betroth lier to your 

Dauphin. 
Bee then: [Dauphin, 

Mary of Scotland, married to your 
Would make our England, France; 
Maiy of England, joining hands wilh 

Spain, 
Would be too strong for France. 
Yea, were there issue born to her, 

Spain and we. 
One crown, might rule the world. 

There lies your fear. 
That is your dilf t. You play at hide 

and seek. 
Show me your faces ! 

Noail. Madam, I am amazed : 

French, I must nee^ls wish all gooil 

tilings for France. [protest 

That must be pardon'd nie ; but I 

Your Grace's policy hath a farther 

flight [seek 

Than mine into the future. We but 

Some settled ground for peace to stand 

upon. 

Mary. Well, we will leave all this, 

sir, to our council. 
Have you seen Philip ever ? 
Noail. Only once. 

Marif. Is this like Philip ? 
NoaU, Ay, but nobler-looking. 

Alary. Hath he the large ability of 

the Emperor ? 

Noail. Ko, surely [thee, 

Mary, I can make allowance for 

Thou speakest of the enemy of thy 

king. [naked truth. 

Noail. Make no allowance for the 

He is every way a lesser man than 

Charles ; [ing in him. 

Stone-hard, ice-cold— no dash of dar- 

Alary. If cold, his life is pure. 

Noail, Why {smiling)^ no, indeed. 

Marif. Sayst thou ? Usmitinff). 

NoatL A very wanton life indeed 

Mary, Your audience is concluded, 

sir. [Exit Koailles. 

You cannot 
Learn a man's nature from his natural 
foe. 

Enter Usher. 

Wlio waits ? 
Usher. The ambassador of Spain, 
your Grace. [Exit. 

Enter Simon Renard. 

Mary. Thou art ever welcome, 

Simon llenard. Hast thou 
Brought me the letter which thine 

Emperor promised 

Long since, a formal offer of the hand 

Of Philip ? [reach'd me. 

Hen- Nay, your Grace, it hath not 

I know not wherefore — some mischance 

of flood. 
And broken bridge, or spavin'd horse, 

or wave [have written. 

And wind at their old battle ; he must 

Mary. But Philip never writes me 

one poor word. [wealth. 

Which in his absence had been all my 



Strange in a wooer ! 

Jien. Yet I know the Prince, 

So your king-parliament suffer him to 

land, [shore. 

Yearns to set foot upon your island 

Mary. God change the pebble which 

his kingly foot [stone 

First presses into some more costly 
Than ever blinded eye. I'll have one 

mark it [tireliko ; 

And bring i t me. 1*11 have itbuniish'd 
I'll set it round with gold, with pearl, 

with diamond. 
Let the great angel of the church come 

with him ; 
Stand on the deck and spread his wings 

for sail ! 
God lay the waves and strew the storms 

at sea, [O Renard^ 

And hero at land among the people. 
I am much beset, I am almost in des- 
pair [ours : 
Paget is ours. Gardiner perchance is 
But for our heretic Parliament— 

Jien, O Madam, 

You fly your thoughts like kites. My 

Master, Charles, [here. 

Bade you go softly with your heretics 
Until your throne had ceased to trem- 

ble. Then [Besides, 

Spit them like larks for aught I care. 
When Henry broke the carcass of your 

church [among you 

To pieces, there were many wolves 
Who dragg'd the scattered limbs into 

tlieir den. [render these ; 

Tlie Pope would have you make them 
So would your cousin, Cardinal Pole ; 

ill counsel ! [not yet 

Tliese let them keep at present ; stir 
This matter of the churui lauds. At 

his coming 
Your star willrise. 

Mary. My star ! a baleful one. 
I see but the black night, and hear the 

wolf. 
What star? 
Jien. Your star will be your 

princely son, [lands I 

Heir of this England and the Nether- 
And if your wolf the while should howl 

for more. [gold. 

We'll dust him from a bag of Spanish 
I do believe, I have dusted some al- 
ready, [ours. 
That, soon or late, your parliament is 
Mary. Why do they talk so foully 

of your Prince, 
Benard ? 

Jien. The lot of princes. To sit 

Is to be lied about. [high 

Mary. Tliey call him cold, 

Haughty, ay, worse. 

Jien. Why, doubtless, Philip shows 
Some of the bearing of your blue blood 

—still 
All within measure— nay, it well be- 
comes him. 
Mary. Hath he the large ability of 

his father? 



QUEEN MARY. 



S69 



It craves an instant answer. Ay or 

Ko ? [Council sits. 

Mary. An instant. Ay or No ! the 

Give it me quick. 

Alice (Bteppiny before her). Your 

Highness is all trembling. 
Mary. Make way. 

[Exit into the Council Chamber. 

Alice. O, Master Kenard, Master 

Kenard. [Prince ; 

If you have falsely painted your fine 

liaised, where you should have 

blamed him, I pray God 
No woman ever loved you, Master 
Renard. [at night 

It breaks my heart to hear her moan 
Am tho* the nightmare never left her 
bed. [you over 

Jien. My pretty maiden, toll me, did 
8igh for a beard ? 
Alice, That's not a pretty question. 
lien. Not prettily put? 1 mean, 
my pretty maiden, 
A pretty man for such a pretty maiden. 
Alice. My Lord of Devon is a pretty 
man. [then ? 

I hate liim. "Well, but if I have, what 
Jien. Then, pretty maiden, you 
should know that whether. 
A wind be warm or cold, it serves to 
A kindled fire. [fan 

Alice. According^ to the song. 

His friends would praise Aim, / bt- 
fieved 'em. 
His foes would blame him^ aiul I 
scorned *emy 
His friends — as Angels I received *em. 
His foes— Tlie Devil Juul suborn' d 

*em. 

Tien. Peace, pretty maiden. 

I hear them stirring in the Council 

Chamber. [and yet. 

Lord Paget*s '* Ay " is sure — who else ? 

They are all too much at odds to close 

at once [ness comes. 

In one full throated No! Her High- 

Enter Mary. 

Alice, IIow deathly pale !— a chair, 
your Highness. 

[Bringing one to the Queen. 

7?«n. Madam, 

The Council ? 

Mary. Ay I My Philip is all mine. 

[Sinks into cliair^ lialf fainting. 



ACT II. 



Scene I.— Allington Castle. 
Sir Thomas Wyatt. I <lo not hear 

from Carew or the Duke [move. 
Of Suffolk, and till then I shoul I not 
The Duke hath gone to Leicester ; 

Carew stirs 
In Devon: that fine porcelain Cour- 

tenay, [in using. 

Save that he fears he might bo crack'U 
(I have known a semi-madman in my 

time [too. 

go fancy ridd*n) should be in Devon 



Entef TTilliam. 
News abroad, William ? 

Will, None so new. Sir Thomas, 
and none so old. Sir '.I'homas. No new 
news that Philip comes to wed Mary, 
no old news that all men hate it. Old 
Sir Thomas would have hated it. The 
bells are ringing at Maidstone. 
Doesn't your worship hear ? 

Wyatt. Ay, for the Saints are come 
to reign again. [no call 

Most like it is a Saint's-day. There's 
As yet for me ; so in this pause, befor« 
The mine be fired, it were a pious work 
To htring my father's sonnets, left 
about [order, 

Like loosely-scatter'd jewels, in fair 
And head them with a lamer rhyme of 

mine, 
To grace his memory. 

Will. Ay, why not. Sir Thomas? 
He was a fine courtier, he ; Queen 
Anne loved him. All the women 
loved him. I loved him, I was in 
Spain with him. I couldn't eat in 
Spain, 1 coukbi't sleep in Spain. I 
hate Spain, Sir Thomas. 

Wyatt. But thou couldst drink in 

Spain if 1 remember. 
Will. Sir Thomas, we may grant 
the wine. Old Sir Thomas always 
granted the wine. 

Wyatt. Hand me the casket with 
my father's sonnets. 

Will. Ay— sonnets— a fine courtier 
of the old Court, old Sir Thomas. 

[Exit. 
Wyatt. Courtier of many couils, 
he loved the more 
His own gray towers, plain life and 

letter'd t>eace, 
To read and rhyme in solitary fields, 
The lark abov«, the nightingale below. 
And answer them in song. TheSiro 

betrets 
Not h^f his likeness in his son. I fail 
Where he was fullest : yet— to write it 
down. [He torites, 

lie-enter William. 

Will. Tliei*e is news, there is news, 
and no call for sonnet-sorting now, 
nor for sonnet-making either, but ten 
thousand men on Penenden Heath all 
calling after your worship, and your 
worship's name heard Into Maidstone 
market, and your worship the first 
man in Kent and Christendom, for the 
world's up, and your worship a-top of 
iU 

Wyatt. Inverted -^sop— mountain 

out of mouse. [house knaves, 

Say for ten thousand ten— and pot* 

Drain-dizzied with u draught of mom* 

iug ale. 

Enter Antony Knyvett. 

Will. Here's Antony Knyvett. 
An?/. Look you. Master Wyatt 

Tear'up that woman's work there. 



t 



V 



Dumb ohiMign ol 



QUEEN MARY. 



It will 



When I and thnn anil all 
IMsd bodieg wEiix 
ForiEes. 



Xni 






igflies 
I ui, joai soimeiD a flying 
ITiaH. WeU, lot mine own work 
1 th^ '*e;in;w], 

nixm yonr iJioaideu. 



cirry you 



L?l" 



AaAaa 






mf°" 



Why. goo.1 Lord, 

many Hoiineia tw yo» 

lean, bTdliis ? 

.,y, but not now ; wlmt.liavByou cyei, 

Thu Pill lip and the black.fuce.l 

iwarmsorHpilln, [worLd, 

The haidsBt, cmelleit people in tlie 

CuinelucusUngnponus.eiiiusup. 

(jonHicato Iftnda, fiooda, money— 

Wyatt, -Wyatt, [eomo 

Wnke, ucthe BtoHtnld Inland nlu be- 

A rotten limb of Spain. Tliey roar 

tor you [them— Tnore— 

On Peuenden Heath, a tlioueanil at 



noBlof 



LlkeMs'uSio 

Slnn-Bonglng hero; but, if I'm uiy 
By Uod, vnu nre lu poor a iwet, Wyatt, 



MuOgo, 



Bir^ii 


[Anthony 
^Tmu^'^ 


Carova 


ndUi 





You know I kuo 

L'nUllhearfrDi 

1 fear Ihe mine ui tii-ed bef .iie the lime. 

Xujl (sAoujiHj/ (1 paper). But here's 

BomeUebrew. FaltU, Tliulf forgot 

it. [strange youth 

Look ; ean you make it EngTiib ? A 

Suddenly tliruat it on me, whisper'd, 
" Wyatt." [hit. biteft 

And whleklns round a corner, Bhow'tl 

Before 1 read hit face. 

FCvbJI. Ua 1 CoBrt^nay'a elpher, 

"SirPelerCfirfaJletltoFratuK: It 
li lluiught Ihe DitU iPill be taken. I 
ujAKitU vat Mill; but, for asptaTttnct'' 
jiatr.il.i» Kith tHe Q.i«B. Ganlliur 
tlu CotmcUarsall atodlli. 



le the 



(taken 
._ .he Duk 

Konrtili 

ivo 'will teaeti' Queen Uaiy 



it HebeUion 



That tolloWd 1 



The mine is Bred, a 



I from Foueiidoi 



If Kent 1 EuBland o( EncUnd : 



upright, wh._. . 

bav'd tbelrs to the Noi 
that lukLh l>r^£lit ua 



reatol Eugloiij 



&reac jewel. PbUlp ahail hm 

ary; r—''— ' —n-. — — 

le your leadi 



veU Mnry ; and ys b 



StS 



ULQiLL III Lucif unii lOJLU. : B^TV HU 

the haughtilieea <it their iioblw; 
eraelty o£ their prioaU. II thil 

and the Commons may feuoetoiwdUi 

Ewer witli reetrii-Uoit, he willba Xlw 
ng ofEnjzliuid,mymMte»;andllW 
□neeu, and lie laws, ami Uio people.Ma 

aluiM. What? shall ve have Si ' 
•— ■' andlnlhei ' 



houaee, lu our beds f 
Crmcd. Ko 1 no ! ii 
mil. Ko Spain 1 
were woreo than al 
Uinre with old Sir ■ 
beds I know. I hate 



ly-ffoU So, my friend ; tit,T Jbr Ou 
Queeii'B Oraeo— to bbvb ber tnnt ia- 
aelf and Philip— mir againat Bpdn. 
And think i.ot we ahSl be alwii- 
thouaanda will floek to ua. TbeCoui^ 

■ "e Court iuell, ii 



B— war aialiiM Suallil 

notiiowryelllwWl* 

known tbnt we liave moved ; whI It 
Pbfllp come 1o be lUilg, 0,my OoAl 
tlie rope, Iba rack, the |]ii ~ 

tlie Btake, the On. It we 

now, Spun movea, bribes out notiha 
with her gold, and creeps, cteepi Bi»k»' 



at all ; and ye know, my maaUn, 
that wherever Spain linUi rBl«d iba 
hath wither'd all beneaUi hct. Lo«t 
at Uie New World-a panhUi 

hell : tbe red man, that vond , 

ereatnre, starved, malra-d, Hofrti 
flay'd. burn'd, btril'd, buHed iiOtci 
worried by doga ; and hero, JtntMi 
home, the KeUierland*. Slelly. Kapltai 
Lumbardy. I eay no mure— only tM 



QUEEN MARY, 



87i 



with ine ! forward to Ijondon ! If ye 
love your liberties or your skins, for- 
ward to London ! [Wyatt ! A Wyatt ! 
Crowd, Forward to London ! A 
Wyatt. But first to Itochester, to 
take the guns [river. 

From out the vessels lying in the 
Then on. 
A Peeisant, Ay, but I fear we be 

too few, Sir Thomas. 

WycUt. Not many yet. The world 

as yet, my friend, [tower 

Is not half-waked; but every parish 

Shall clang and clash alarum as we 

pass, [and fetl 

And pour along the land, and swoll'n 

With indraughts and side-currents, 

in full force 
Boll upon Loudon. [Forward ! 

CYoicd. A Wvatt ! a Wyatt ! 

Kiiu. Wyatt, shall we proclaim 

Elizabeth ? 
IVyatt, 1*11 think upon it, Knyvett. 
Kny. Or Lady Jane ? 

Wyatt. No. poor soul ; no. 
Ay, gray old castle of Allington, green 
nelu [chance 

Beside the brimming Medway, it may 
That i shall never look upon you 
more. 
Jiiiy. Come, now, you're somietuig 

again. 
Wyatt. Not I. 
I'll have my head set higher in the 
state ; [stake. 

Or— if the Lord God will it— on the 

[Exeunt. 

Scene II.— Quildhall. Sir Thomas 
White (the Lord Mayor), Lord Wil- 
liam Howard. Sir Kalph Bagenhall, 
Aldermen and Citizens. 

Wlute. I trust tlie Queen comes 

hither with her guards. 
How. Ay, all in arms. 
[Several of the citizens move hastily 
out of the hall. 

Why do they hurry out there ? 

IFhUe. Aiy Lord, cut out the rotten 

from your apple, [go. 

Tour apple eats the better. Let them 

They go like those old Pharisees in 

John [cowards. 

Convicted by their conscience, arrant 

Or tamperers with that treason out of 

Kent. 
When will her Grace be here ? 

How, In some few minutes. 

She will address your guilds and com- 
panies, [her. 
I have striven in vain to raise a man for 
But help her in this exigency, make 
Your city loyal, and be the mightiest 

man 
This day in England. 

White. I am Thomas White. 

Few things have fail'd to which I set 

my will. 
I do my most and best. 
How. You know that after 



The Captain Brett, who went with 

your train bands [him 

To light with Wyatt. had gone over to 
Witli all liis men, the Queen in that 

distress [traitoi\ 

Sent Comwallis and Hastings to the 
Feigning to treat with him about her 

marriage — 
Know too what Wyatt said. 

White. He'd sdonor bo, 

While this same maiTiage question 

was being ai^ned. 
Trusted tlian trust— the scoundrel— 

and demanded [Tower. 

Possession of her i>erson and the 

How. And four of her poor Council 

too, my Lord, 
As hostages. 

White. 1 know it. What do and say 
Your Council at this hour ? 

hoio. I will trust you. 

We fling ourselves on you, my lx)rd. 

The Council, * [waters : 

The Parliament as well, are troubled 
And yet like waters of the fen they 

know not [address. 

Which way to flow. All hangs on her 
And upon you. Lord Mayor. 

White. How look'd the city 

When now you past it ? Quiet ? 

Hoio. Like our Council, 

Your city is divided. As we past. 
Some hail'd, some hiss'd us. Uliere 

were citizens [and look'd 

Stood each before his shut-up booth, 
As grim and grave as from a funeral. 
And here a knot of ruffians all in rags, 
With execrating execrable eyes, 
Glared at the citizen. Here was a 

young motlier, [blown back. 

Her face on flame, her red hair all 
She shrilling « Wyatt," while the boy 

she held [red as she 

Mimick'd and piped her " Wyatt," as 
In hair and cheek ; and almost elbow- 
ing her, [death 
So close they stood, another, mute as 
And white as her own milk ; ner babe 

in arms [heart 

Had felt the faltering of his mother's 
And look'd as bloodless. Here a pious 

Catholic, [prayers 

Mumbling and mixing up in his scared 
Heaven and earth's Maries ; over his 

bow'd shoulder [hating beast, 

Scowl'd that world-hated and world- 
A haggard Anabaptist. Many such 

groups. [Courtenay, 

The names of Wyatt, Elizabeth, 
Nay the Queen's right to reign— 'fore 

God, the rogues — [I say 

Were freely buzz'd among them. So 
Your city is divided, and I fear 
One scruple, this or that way, of suc- 
cess [now the Queen 
Would turn it thither. Wherefore 
In this low pulse and palsy of the 

state. 
Bade me to tell you that she counts 

on you 



^■■v?' 



QUEEN 

And on Riyseir u lior tnD liands j 
In jour owii iilty, u lice ilglit, 



■3?^ 



Ku ; elie ihall m 



lid be luiahandh 

Nu ; t 

TUu Queen hod wtilten liDC wc... .. 

It Reiinrd In Uio 



UetliouBli' 1 sme 

" mtalv