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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17574-h.zip b/17574-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca6e01c --- /dev/null +++ b/17574-h.zip diff --git a/17574-h/17574-h.htm b/17574-h/17574-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5053a1d --- /dev/null +++ b/17574-h/17574-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3498 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale, by Thomas Woolner</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale, by Thomas +Woolner, Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale + + +Author: Thomas Woolner + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: January 22, 2006 [eBook #17574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. NELLY DALE*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition, David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>MY BEAUTIFUL LADY.<br /> +NELLY DALE.</h1> +<p>BY<br /> +THOMAS WOOLNER, R.A.</p> +<p>CASSELL & COMPANY, <span class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<i>LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE</i>.<br /> +1887.</p> +<h2><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 5</span>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<blockquote><p>“A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven—<br /> +I have believed in worth; and do believe.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So runs Mr. Woolner’s song, as it proceeds to show the issue +of a noble earthly love, one with the heavenly. Its issue is the +life of high endeavour, wherein</p> +<blockquote><p> “They who would be something +more<br /> +Than they who feast, and laugh and die, will hear<br /> +The voice of Duty, as the note of war,<br /> +Nerving their spirits to great enterprise,<br /> +And knitting every sinew for the charge.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This Library is based on a belief in worth, and <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>on +a knowledge of the wide desire among men now to read books that are +books, which “do,” as Milton says, “contain a potency +of life in them to be as active as that soul whose progeny they are; +nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction +of that living intellect that bred them.” When, therefore, +as now happens for the second time, a man of genius who has written +with a hope to lift the hearts and minds of men by adding one more true +book to the treasures of the land, honours us by such recognition of +our aim, and fellow-feeling with it, that he gives up a part of his +exclusive right to his own work, and offers to make it freely current +with the other volumes of our series,—we take the gift, if we +may dare to say so, in the spirit of the giver, and are the <!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>happier +for such evidence that we are not working in vain.</p> +<p>Such evidence comes in other forms: as in letters from remote readers +in lonely settlements, from the far West, from sheep-farms in Australia, +from farthest India, from places to which these little volumes make +their way as pioneers; being almost the first real books that have there +been seen. To send a true voice over, for delight and support +of earnest workers who open their hearts wide to a good book in a way +that we can hardly understand,—we who live wastefully in the midst +of plenty, and are apt sometimes to leave to feed on the fair mountain +and batten on the moor,—is worth the while of any man of genius +who puts his soul into his work, as Mr. Woolner does.</p> +<p><!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>Books +in the “National Library” that come like those of Mr. Patmore +and Mr. Woolner are here as friends and companions. If they were +not esteemed highly they would not be here. Beyond that implied +opinion there is nothing to be said. He would be an ill-bred host +who criticised his guest, or spoke loud praise of him before his face. +Nor does a well-known man of our own day need personal introduction. +It is only said, in consideration that this book will be read by many +who cannot know what is known to those who have access to the works +of artists, that Mr. Thomas Woolner is a Royal Academician, and one +of the foremost sculptors of our day. For a couple of years, from +1877 to 1879, he was Professor of Sculpture at the Royal Academy. +A colossal <!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>statue +by him in bronze of Captain Cook was designed for a site overlooking +Sydney Harbour. A poet’s mind has given life to his work +on the marble, and when he was an associate with Mr. Millais, Mr. Holman +Hunt, and others, who, in 1850, were endeavouring to bring truth and +beauty of expression into art, by the bold reaction against tame and +insincere conventions for which Mr. Ruskin pleaded and which the time +required, Mr. Woolner joined in the production by them of a magazine +called “The Germ,” to which some of the verses in this volume +were contributed.</p> +<p>There is no more to say; but through another page let Wordsworth +speak the praise of Books:</p> +<blockquote><p> Yet is it just<br /> +That here, in memory of all books which lay<br /> +<!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>Their +sure foundations in the heart of man,<br /> +Whether by native prose, or numerous verse.<br /> +That in the name of all inspired souls—<br /> +From Homer the great thunderer, from the voice<br /> +That roars along the bed of Jewish song,<br /> +And that more varied and elaborate,<br /> +Those trumpet tones of harmony that shake<br /> +Our shores in England—from those loftiest notes,<br /> +Down to the low and wren-like warblings, made<br /> +For cottagers and spinners at the wheel<br /> +And sunburnt travellers resting their tired limbs<br /> +Stretched under wayside hedgerows, ballad tunes<br /> +Food for the hungry ears of little ones<br /> +And of old men who have survived their joys—<br /> +’Tis just that in behalf of these, the works,<br /> +And of the men that framed them, whether known<br /> +Or sleeping nameless in their scattered graves,<br /> +That I should here assert their rights, attest<br /> +Their honours, and should, once for all, pronounce<br /> +<!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>Their +benediction; speak of them as Powers<br /> +For ever to be hallowed; only less,<br /> +For what we are and what we may become,<br /> +Than Nature’s self, which is the breath of God,<br /> +Or His pure Word by miracle revealed.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><i>Prelude, Book V</i>.<br /> +H. M.</p> +<h2><!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>MY +BEAUTIFUL LADY. INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p>In some there lies a sorrow too profound<br /> +To find a voice or to reveal itself<br /> +Throughout the strain of daily toil, or thought,<br /> +Or during converse born of souls allied,<br /> +As aught men understand. And though mayhap<br /> +Their cheeks will thin or droop; and wane their eyes’<br /> +Frank lustre; hair may lose its hue, or fall;<br /> +And health may slacken low in force; and they<br /> +Are older than the warrant of their years;<br /> +Yet they to others seem to gild their lives<br /> +With cheerfulness, and every duty tend,<br /> +As if their aspects told the truth within.<br /> + But they are not as others: not for them<br /> +The bounding pulse, and ardour of desire,<br /> +<!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>The +rapture and the wonder in things new;<br /> +The hope that palpitating enters where<br /> +Perfection smiles on universal life;<br /> +Nor do they with elastic enterprise<br /> +Forecast delight in compassing results;<br /> +Nor, having won their ends, fall godlike back<br /> +And taste the calm completion of content.<br /> +But in a sober chilled grey atmosphere<br /> +Work out their lives; more various though they are<br /> +Than creatures in the unknown ocean depths,<br /> +Yet each in whom this vital grief has root<br /> +Is dull to what makes everything of worth.<br /> +And though, may be, a shallow bodily joy<br /> +Oft tingles through them at the breathing spring,<br /> +Or first-heard exultation of the lark;<br /> +Still that deep weight draws ever steadily<br /> +Their thoughts and passions back to secret woe.<br /> +Though, if endowed with light, heroic deeds<br /> +May be achieved; and if benignly bent<br /> +They may be treasured blessings through their lives;<br /> +<!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>Yet +power and goodness are to them as dreams,<br /> +And they heed vaguely, if their waking sight<br /> +Be met with slanting storm against the pane,<br /> +Or sunshine glittering on the leaves that play<br /> +In purest blue of breezy summer morns.</p> +<p> Whence springs this well of mournfulness profound,<br /> +Unfathomable to plummet cast by man?<br /> +Alas; for who can tell! Whence comes the wind<br /> +Heaving the ocean into maddened arms<br /> +That clutch and dash huge vessels on the rocks,<br /> +And scatter them, as if compacted slight<br /> +As little eggs boys star against a tree<br /> +In wanton mischief? Whence, detestable,<br /> +To man, who suffers from the monster-jaws,<br /> +The power that in the logging crocodiles’<br /> +Outrageous bulk puts evil fire of life?<br /> +That spouts from mountain-pyramids a flood<br /> +Of lava, overwhelming works and men<br /> +<!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>In +burning, fetid ruin?—The power that stings<br /> +A city with a pestilence: or turns<br /> +The pretty babe, who in his mother’s lap<br /> +Babbles her back the lavished kiss and laugh,<br /> +Through lusts and vassalage to obdurate sin,<br /> +Into a knife-armed midnight murderer?</p> +<p> Our lives are mysteries, and rarely scanned<br /> +As we read stories writ by mortal pen.<br /> +We can perchance but catch a straying weft<br /> +And trace the hinted texture here or there,<br /> +Of that stupendous loom weaving our fates.<br /> +Two parents, late in life, are haply blessed<br /> +With one bright child, a wonder in his years,<br /> +For loveliness and genius versatile:<br /> +Some common ill destroys him; parents, both,<br /> +Until their death, are left but living tombs<br /> +That hold the one dead image of their joy.<br /> +A man, the flower of honour, who has found<br /> +His well-beloved young daughter fled from home,<br /> +Fallen from her maidenhood, a nameless thing<br /> +<!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>Tainting +his blood. A youth who throws the strength<br /> +Of his whole being into love for one<br /> +Answering him honeyed smiles, and leaves his land<br /> +For some far country, seeking wealth he hopes<br /> +Will grace her daintily with choice delights,<br /> +And on returning sees the honeyed smiles<br /> +Are sweetening other lips. A husband who<br /> +Has found that household curse, a faithless wife.<br /> +A thinker whose far-piercing care perceives<br /> +His nation goes the road that ends in shame.<br /> +A gracious woman whose reserve denies<br /> +The power to utter what consumes her heart.<br /> +Such instances (and some a loss to know,<br /> +Which steadfast reticence will shield from those,<br /> +Debased or garrulous, whose hearts corrupt,<br /> +But learn the gloomy secrets of their kind<br /> +To poison-tip their wit, or grope and grin<br /> +With pharisaic laughter at disgrace)—<br /> +Such instances as these demand no guide<br /> +<!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>To +thrid the dismal issues from their source!<br /> +But others are there, lying fast concealed,<br /> +Dark, hopeless, and unutterably sad,<br /> +Which have not been, and never may be known.</p> +<p> Then we may well call happy one whose grief,<br /> +Mixed up with sacred memories of the past,<br /> +Can tell to others how the tempest rose,<br /> +That struck and left him lonely in the world;<br /> +And who, narrating, feels his sorrow soothed,<br /> +By that respect which love and sorrow claim.</p> +<p> It much behoves us all, but chiefly those<br /> +Whom fate has favoured with an easy trust,<br /> +To keep a bridle upon restless speech<br /> +And thought: and not in flagrant haste prejudge<br /> +The first presentment as the rounded truth.<br /> +For true it is, that rapid thoughts, and freak<br /> +Of skimming word, and glance, more frequently<br /> +Than either malice, settled hate, or scorn,<br /> +Support confusion, and pervert the right;<br /> +<!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>Set +up the weakling in the strong man’s place;<br /> +And yoke the great one’s strength to idleness;<br /> +Pour gold into the squanderer’s purse, and suck<br /> +The wealth, which is a power, from their control<br /> +Who would have turned it unto noble use.<br /> +And oftentimes a man will strike his friend,<br /> +By random verbiage, with sharper pain<br /> +Than could a foe, yet scarcely mean him wrong;<br /> +For none can strip this complex masquerade<br /> +And know who languishes with secret wounds.<br /> +They whom the brunt of war has maimed in limb,<br /> +Who lean on crutches to sustain their weight,<br /> +Are manifest to all; and reverence<br /> +For their misfortunes kindly gains them place:<br /> +But wounds, sometimes more deep and dangerous,<br /> +We may in careless jostle through the crowd,<br /> +Gall and oppress, because to us unknown.<br /> +Then, howsoever by our needs impelled,<br /> +Let us resolve to move in gentleness;<br /> +Judge mildly when we doubt; and pause awhile<br /> +Before injustice palpably proclaimed<br /> +<!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>Ere +we let fall the judgment stroke: against<br /> +Their ignominious craft, who ever wait<br /> +To filch another’s right, we will maintain<br /> +Majestic peace in silence; knowing well<br /> +Their craft takes something richer from themselves.<br /> +It is but seemly to respect the great;<br /> +But never let us fail toward lowly ones;<br /> +Respecting more, in that they lack the force<br /> +To claim it of the world. For souls there are<br /> +Of poor capacities, whose purpose holds,<br /> +Throughout their unregarded lives, a worth,<br /> +And earnest law of fixed integrity,<br /> +That were an honour even unto those<br /> +Whose genius marks the boundaries of our race.</p> +<h3><!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>PART +THE FIRST.</h3> +<h4><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>LOVE.</h4> +<p>Love comes divinely, gladdening mortal life,<br /> +As sunrise dawns upon the gaze of one<br /> +Bewildered in some outland waste, and lost:<br /> +Who, lonely faint and shuddering, through the night<br /> +Heard savage creatures nigh; and far-off moan<br /> +Of tempests on the wind.</p> +<p> Auroral joy<br /> +Flushes the brow of childhood, warms his cheek<br /> +To rosier redness at the name of Love;<br /> +And earlier thoughts awake in darkness strive;<br /> +As unfledged nestlings move their sightless heads<br /> +At sound, toward a fair world to them unknown.<br /> +Young Hope scales azure mountain heights to gaze,<br /> +In Love’s first golden and delicious dream.<br /> +He sees the earth a maze of tempting paths,<br /> +<!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>For +blissful sauntering mid the crowded flowers<br /> +And music of the rills. No ambushed wrongs,<br /> +Or thwarting storms there baffle and surprise;<br /> +But lingering, man treads long an odorous way;<br /> +And at the close, with Love clasped hand in hand,<br /> +Sets in proud glory: thence to rise anon<br /> +With Love beyond the stars and rest in heaven.</p> +<p> Man, nerved by Love, can steadily endure<br /> +Clash of opposing interests; perplexed web<br /> +Of crosses that distracting clog advance:<br /> +In thickest storm of contest waxes stronger<br /> +At momentary thought of home, of her,<br /> +His gracious wife, and bright-faced joys.</p> +<p> To him<br /> +The wrinkled patriarch, who sits and suns<br /> +His shrunken form beneath the boughs he climbed<br /> +A lissom boy, whence comes that brooding smile,<br /> +Whose secret lifts his cheeks, and overflows<br /> +His sight with tender dew? What through his frame<br /> +<!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>Melts +languor sweeter than approaching sleep<br /> +To one made weary by a hard day’s toil?<br /> +It is the memory of primal love,<br /> +Whose visionary splendour steeped his life<br /> +In hues of heaven; and which grown open day,<br /> +Revealing perilous falls, his steps confined<br /> +Within the pathways to the noblest end.<br /> +Now following this dimmed glory, tired, his soul<br /> +Haunts ever the mysterious gates of Death;<br /> +And waits in patient reverence till his doom<br /> +Unfolding them fulfils immortal Love.</p> +<p> As from some height, on a wild day of cloud,<br /> +A wanderer, chilled and worn, perchance beholds<br /> +Move toward him through the landscape soaked in gloom<br /> +A golden beam of light; creating lakes,<br /> +And verdant pasture, farms, and villages;<br /> +And touching spires atop to flickering flame;<br /> +Disclosing herds of sober feeding kine;<br /> +And brightening on its way the woods to song;<br /> +<!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>As +he, that wanderer, brightens when the shaft<br /> +Suddenly falls on him. A moment warmed,<br /> +He scarcely feels its loveliness before<br /> +The light departing leaves his saddened soul<br /> +More cold than ere it came.<br /> + Thus love once shone<br /> +And blessed my life: so vanished into gloom.</p> +<h4><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span>I. +MY BEAUTIFUL LADY.</h4> +<p>I love My Lady; she is very fair;<br /> +Her brow is wan, and bound by simple hair:<br /> + Her spirit sits aloof, and high,<br /> + But glances from her tender eye<br /> + In sweetness droopingly.</p> +<p>As a young forest while the wind drives through,<br /> +My life is stirred when she breaks on my view;<br /> + Her beauty grants my will no choice<br /> + But silent awe, till she rejoice<br /> + My longing with her voice.</p> +<p>Her warbling voice, though ever low and mild,<br /> +Oft makes me feel as strong wine would a child:<br /> + <!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>And +though her hand be airy light<br /> + Of touch, it moves me with its might,<br /> + As would a sudden fright.</p> +<p>A hawk high poised in air, whose nerved wing-tips<br /> +Tremble with might suppressed, before he dips,<br /> + In vigilance, hangs less intense<br /> + Than I, when her voice holds my sense<br /> + Contented in suspense.</p> +<p>Her mention of a thing, august or poor,<br /> +Makes it far nobler than it was before:<br /> + As where the sun strikes life will gush,<br /> + And what is pale receive a flush,<br /> + Rich hues, a richer blush.</p> +<p>My Lady’s name, when I hear strangers use,<br /> +Not meaning her, sounds to me lax misuse;<br /> + I love none but My Lady’s name;<br /> + Maud, Grace, Rose, Marian, all the same,<br /> + Are harsh, or blank and tame.</p> +<p><!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>My +Lady walks as I have seen a swan<br /> +Swim where a glory on the water shone:<br /> + There ends of willow branches ride,<br /> + Quivering in the flowing tide,<br /> + By the deep river’s side.</p> +<p>Fresh beauties, howsoe’er she moves, are stirred:<br /> +As the sunned bosom of a humming bird<br /> + At each pant lifts some fiery hue,<br /> + Fierce gold, bewildering green or blue;<br /> + The same, yet ever new.</p> +<p>What time she walks beneath the flowering May,<br /> +Quite sure am I the scented blossoms say,<br /> + “O Lady with the sunlit hair!<br /> + Stay and drink our odorous air,<br /> + The incense that we bear:</p> +<p>“Thy beauty, Lady, we would ever shade;<br /> +For near to thee, our sweetness might not fade.”<br /> + <!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>And +could the trees be broken-hearted,<br /> + The green sap surely must have smarted,<br /> + When my Lady parted.</p> +<p>How beautiful she is! A glorious gem<br /> +She shines above the summer diadem<br /> + Of flowers! And when her light is seen<br /> + Among them, all in reverence lean<br /> + To her, their tending Queen.</p> +<p>A man so poor that want assaults his health,<br /> +Blessed with relief one morn in boundless wealth,<br /> + Breathes no such joy as mine, when she<br /> + Stands statelier, expecting me,<br /> + Than tall white lilies be:</p> +<p>And the white flutter of her robe to trace,<br /> +Where clematis and jasmine interlace,<br /> + Expands my gaze triumphantly:<br /> + Even such his gaze, who sees on high<br /> + His flag, for victory.</p> +<p><!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>We +wander forth unconsciously, because<br /> +The azure beauty of the evening draws;<br /> + When sober hues pervade the ground,<br /> + And universal life is drowned<br /> + Into hushed depths of sound.</p> +<p>We thread a copse where frequent bramble spray<br /> +With loose obtrusion from the side roots stray,<br /> + And force sweet pauses on our walk;<br /> + I lift one with my foot, and talk<br /> + About its leaves and stalk.</p> +<p>Or maybe that some thorn or prickly stem<br /> +Will take a prisoner her long garments’ hem;<br /> + To disentangle it I kneel,<br /> + Oft wounding more than I can heal;<br /> + It makes her laugh, my zeal.</p> +<p>Or on before a thin-legged robin hops,<br /> +And leaping on a twig, he pertly stops,<br /> + <!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>Speaking +a few clear notes, till nigh<br /> + We draw, when briskly he will fly<br /> + Into a bush close by.</p> +<p>A flock of goldfinches arrest their flight,<br /> +And wheeling round a birchen tree alight<br /> + Deep in its glittering leaves; and stay<br /> + Till scared at our approach, when they<br /> + Strike with vexed trills away.</p> +<p>I recollect My Lady in the wood,<br /> +Keeping her breath, while peering as she stood<br /> + There, balanced lightly on tiptoe,<br /> + To mark a nest built snug below,<br /> + Leaves shadowing her brow.</p> +<p>I recollect her puzzled, asking me,<br /> +What that strange tapping in the wood might be?<br /> + I told of gourmand thrushes, which,<br /> + To feast on morsels oosy rich,<br /> + Cracked poor snails’ curling niche.</p> +<p><!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>And +then, as knight led captive, in romance,<br /> +Through postern and dark passage, past grim glance<br /> + Of arms; where from throned state the dame<br /> + He loved, in sumptuous blushes came<br /> + To him held dumb for shame:</p> +<p>Even so my spirit passed, and won, through fears<br /> +That trembled nigh despair; through foolish tears,<br /> + And hope fallen weak in breathless flight,<br /> + Where beamed in pure entrancing light<br /> + Love’s beauty on my sight.</p> +<p>For when we reached a hollow, where the stone<br /> +And scattered fragments of the shells lay strown,<br /> + By margin of a weedy rill;<br /> + “This air,” she said, “feels damp and +chill,<br /> + We’ll go home if you will.”</p> +<p>“Make not my pathway dull so soon,” I cried;<br /> +“See how yon clouds of rosy eventide<br /> + <!-- page 36--><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>Roll +out their splendour: while the breeze<br /> + Shifts gold from leaf to leaf, as these<br /> + Lithe saplings move at ease!”</p> +<p>Grateful, in her deep silence, one loud thrush<br /> +Startled the air with song; then every bush<br /> + Of covert songsters all awoke,<br /> + And all, as to their leader’s stroke,<br /> + Into full chorus broke.</p> +<p>A lonely wind sighed up the pines, and sung<br /> +Of woes long past, forgot. My spirit hung<br /> + O’er awful gulfs: and loathly dread<br /> + So bitter was I wished me dead,<br /> + And from a great void said;</p> +<p>“Wait till its glory fade; the sun but burned<br /> +To light your loveliness!” The Lady turned<br /> + To me, flushed by its lingering rays,<br /> + Mute as a star. My frantic praise<br /> + Fixed wide her brightened gaze:</p> +<p><!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>When, +rapt in resolution, I told all<br /> +The mighty love I bore her; how would pall<br /> + My very breath of life, if she<br /> + For ever breathed not hers with me:—<br /> + Could I a spirit be,</p> +<p>How, vainly hoping to enrich her grace,<br /> +What gems and wonders would I snatch from space;<br /> + Would back through the vague distance beat,<br /> + Glowing with joy her smile to meet,<br /> + And heap them round her feet!</p> +<p>Her waist shook to my arm. She bowed her head<br /> +To mine in silence, and my fears had fled:<br /> + (Just then we heard a tolling bell.)<br /> + Ah no; it is not right to tell;<br /> + But I remember well</p> +<p>How dear the pressure of her warm young breast<br /> +Against my own, her home; how proud and blessed<br /> + <!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>I +stood and felt her trickling tears,<br /> + While proudly murmuring in her ears<br /> + The hope of distant years.</p> +<p>The rest I keep: a holy charm, a source<br /> +Of secret strength and comfort on my course.<br /> + Her glory left my pathway bright;<br /> + And stars on stars throughout the night<br /> + Came blooming into light.</p> +<h4><!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>II. +DAWN.</h4> +<p>O lily with the heavenly sun<br /> + Shining upon thy breast!<br /> +My scattered passions toward thee run,<br /> + And poise to awful rest.</p> +<p>The darkness of our universe<br /> + Smothered my soul in night;<br /> +Thy glory shone; whereat the curse<br /> + Passed molten into light.</p> +<p>Raised over envy; freed from pain;<br /> + Beyond the storms of chance:<br /> +Blessed king of my own world I reign,<br /> + Controlling circumstance.</p> +<h4><!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>III. +NOON.</h4> +<p>Warble, warble, warble, O thou joyful bird!<br /> +Warble, lost in leaves that shade my happy head;<br /> +Warble loud delights, laud thy warm-breasted mate,<br /> +And warbling shout the riot of thy heart,<br /> +Thine utmost rapture cannot equal mine.</p> +<p> Flutter, flutter, and flash; crimson-wingèd +flower,<br /> +Parted from thy stem grown in land of dreams!<br /> +Hover and tremble, flitting till thou findest,<br /> +Butterfly, thy treasure! Yet thou never canst<br /> +Find treasure rich as my contented rest.</p> +<p> <!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>Hum +on contentedly, thou wandering bee!<br /> +Or pausing in chosen flowers drain their sweets;<br /> +From honeyed petal thou canst never sip<br /> +The sweetest sweet of sweets, as I from Love,—<br /> +From Love’s warm mouth draw sweetest sweet of sweets.</p> +<p> Round, western wind, in grateful eddies sway,<br /> +Whisper deliciously the trembling flowers:<br /> +O could I fill thy vacancy as I<br /> +Am filled with happiness, thou’dst breathe such sounds <br /> +Their blooms should wane and waver sick for love;<br /> +Thou’dst utter rarer secrets than are blown<br /> +With yonder bean-fields’ paradisal scents;—<br /> +These bean-field odours, lightly sweet and faint,<br /> +That tell of pastures sloping down to streams<br /> +Murmuring for ever on through sunny lands;<br /> +Where mountains gleam and bank to silvery heights<br /> +That scarce the greatest angel’s wing can reach;<br /> +<!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>Where +wondrous creatures float beneath the shade<br /> +Of growths sublime, unknown to mortal race;<br /> +Where hazes opaline lie tranced in dreams,<br /> +Where melodies are heard and die at will,<br /> +And little spirits make hot love to flowers.</p> +<p> Though broadly flaming, plain of yellow blossom,<br /> +A dazzling blaze of splendour in the noon!<br /> +And brightening open heaven, ye shining clouds,<br /> +With lustrous light that casts the azure dim!<br /> +Your radiance all united to the sun’s<br /> +Were darkness to that glory born in me.</p> +<p> For Love’s own voice has owned her love is +mine;<br /> +And Love’s own palm has pressed my palm to hers;<br /> +Love’s own deep eyes have looked the love she spoke:<br /> +And Love’s young heart to mine was fondly beating<br /> +As from her lips I sucked the sweet of life.</p> +<h4><!-- page 45--><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>IV. +NIGHT.</h4> +<p>What trite old folly unharmonious sages<br /> +In dull books write or prattle day by day,<br /> +Of sin original and growing crime!<br /> +And commentating the advance of time,<br /> +Say wrong has fostered wrong for countless ages,<br /> +The strong ones marking down the weak for prey.</p> +<p>They bruit of wars—that thunder heard in dreams;<br /> +Huge insurrections, and dynastic changes<br /> +Resolved in blood. I marvel they of thought<br /> +By apprehensions are so often wrought<br /> +To state as fact what unto all men seems,<br /> +Who watch cloud-struggles blown through stormy ranges!</p> +<p><!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>Why +fill they not with love the printed page,<br /> +Illuminating, as yon moon the night,<br /> +Serenely shining on a world of beauty,<br /> +Where love moves ever hand in hand with duty;<br /> +And life, a long aspiring pilgrimage,<br /> +Makes labour but a pastime of delight!</p> +<p>It was delightfulness to him I found<br /> +Whistling this afternoon behind his team,<br /> +That stepped an easy comfortable pace;<br /> +While off the mould-iron curved in rolling grace<br /> +Dark earth, wave lapping wave, without a sound;<br /> +And all passed by me blissful, like a dream.</p> +<p>And those I noticed hoeing on the hill<br /> +Talking familiarly of homely things,<br /> +A daughter’s marriage-day, a son’s first child;<br /> +How the good Squire at length was reconciled,<br /> +Had overlooked the pheasant shot by Will:—<br /> +Chirruping on as any cricket sings.</p> +<p><!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>And +that complete Arcadian pastoral,<br /> +The piping boy who watched his feeding sheep;<br /> +And, as a little bird o’erflows with joy,<br /> +Piped on for hours my happy shepherd boy!<br /> +While, coiled below, his faithful animal<br /> +Basked in the sunshine, blinking, half asleep.</p> +<p>This silent night-wind bloweth heavenly pure;<br /> +Like dimpled warmth of an infantine face.<br /> +Lo, glimmering starlike in yon balmy vale<br /> +The village lights; each tells a little tale<br /> +Of humble comfort, where its inmates, sure<br /> +In hope, feel grateful in their lowly place.</p> +<p>And here My Lady’s lighted oriel shines<br /> +A giant glowworm in the odorous gloom.<br /> +Ah, stands she smiling there in loose white gown,<br /> +Hearing the music of her future drown<br /> +The stillness and hushed whispering of the vines,<br /> +Whose lattice-clasping leaves o’ershade her room!</p> +<p><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>Or +kneels she worshipful beside her bed<br /> +In large-eyed hope and bended lowliness,<br /> +To crave that He, the Giver, may impart<br /> +Enough of strength to bind her trembling heart<br /> +Steadfast and true; and that her will be led<br /> +To own His chastening cares pain but to bless?</p> +<p>Or sits she at her mirror, face to face<br /> +With her own loveliness? (O blessed land<br /> +That owns such twin perfections both together;<br /> +If guessed aright!) Ah, me; I wonder whether<br /> +She now her braided opulent hair unlace<br /> +And drop it billowing from her moonwhite hand!</p> +<p>Then what a fount of wealth to lover’s sight!<br /> +Her loosened hair, I heard her mother say,<br /> +When she is seated, tumbles to the floor<br /> +And trails the length of her own foot and more:<br /> +And dare I, lapt in bliss, dream my delight<br /> +Ere long shall watch its rippling softness play?</p> +<p><!-- page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>Dare +I, O vanity! but do I dare<br /> +Think she now looks upon the sorry rhyme<br /> +I wrote long ere that well-loved setting sun,<br /> +What time love conquering dread My Lady won,<br /> +While I unblessed, adored in mute despair:—<br /> +Even now I gave it her at parting time.</p> +<p>“O let me, Dearest, fall and once impart<br /> +My grieving love to ease this stricken heart;<br /> + But once, O Love, to fall and rest<br /> + This wearied head of mine,<br /> + But once to weep in thine<br /> + Unutterably tender breast;<br /> +And on my drooping lids feel thy young breath;<br /> +To feel it playing sweeter were than death.</p> +<p>“Than death were sweet to one bent down and old,<br /> +And worn with persecutions manifold;<br /> + Whose stoutness long endured alone<br /> + The charge of bitter foes,<br /> + <!-- page 50--><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>Till, +furious, he rose,<br /> + When smitten, all were overthrown.<br /> +Who then of those, his dearest, none could find,<br /> +They having fled as leaves before the wind.</p> +<p>“As he would pass, when to his failing sight<br /> +Their forms stand in a vision heavenly bright;<br /> + And piercing through his drowsed ears<br /> + Enters their tuneful cry<br /> + Of summons, audibly,<br /> + Thither where flow no mourners’ tears:<br /> +So, dearest Love, my spirit, sore oppressed,<br /> +Would weeping in thy bosom sink to rest.”</p> +<p>Her window now is darkness, save the sheen<br /> +Glazed on it by the moon. Within she lies<br /> +Her supple shape relaxed, in dreamful rest,<br /> +And folds contentment babelike to her breast,<br /> +Whose beauteous heaving, even and serene,<br /> +Beats mortal time to heavenly lullabies.</p> +<h4><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>V. +WILD ROSE.</h4> +<p>To call My Lady where she stood<br /> +“A Wild-rose blossom of the wood,”<br /> +Makes but a poor similitude.</p> +<p>For who by such a sleight would reach<br /> +An aim, consumes the worth in speech,<br /> +And sets a crimson rose to bleach.</p> +<p>My Love, whose store of household sense<br /> +Gives duty golden recompense,<br /> +And arms her goodness with defence:</p> +<p>The sweet reliance of whose gaze<br /> +Originates in gracious ways,<br /> +And wins the trust that trust repays:</p> +<p><!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>Whose +stately figure’s varying grace<br /> +Is never seen unless her face<br /> +Turn beaming toward another place;</p> +<p>For such a halo round it glows<br /> +Surprised attention only knows<br /> +A lively wonder in repose.</p> +<p>Can flowers that breathe one little day<br /> +In odorous sweetness life away,<br /> +And wavering to the earth decay,</p> +<p>Have any claim to rank with her,<br /> +Warmed in whose soul impulses stir,<br /> +Then bloom to goodness, and aver</p> +<p>Her worth through spheral joys shall move<br /> +When suns and systems cease above,<br /> +And nothing lives but perfect Love?</p> +<h4><!-- page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 53</span>VI. +MY LADY’S GLORY.</h4> +<p>Strong in the regal strength of love,<br /> + Enthroned by native worth<br /> + Her sway is held on earth:<br /> +Whose soul looks downward from above<br /> + Exalted stars, whose power<br /> + Brightens the brightest flower.</p> +<p>Her beauty walks in happier grace<br /> + Than lightly moving fawns<br /> + O’er old elm-shadowed lawns.<br /> +A tenderness shows through her face,<br /> + And like the morning’s glow,<br /> + Hints a full day below.</p> +<p><!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>When +site looks wide around the skies<br /> + On the sun’s dazzling track,<br /> + And when shines softly back<br /> +Its glory to her open eyes,<br /> + She fills our hearts and sight<br /> + With wonder and delight.</p> +<p>And when tired thought my sense benumbs,<br /> + Or when past shadows roll<br /> + Their memories on my soul,<br /> +Oft breaking through the darkness comes<br /> + A solace and surprise,<br /> + Her wonder-lighted eyes.</p> +<p>How grand and beautiful the love<br /> + She silently conceals,<br /> + Nor save in act reveals!<br /> +She broods o’er kindness; as a dove<br /> + Sits musing in the nest<br /> + Of the life beneath her breast.</p> +<p><!-- page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>The +ready freshness that was known<br /> + In man’s authentic prime,<br /> + The earliest breath of time,<br /> +Throughout her household ways is shown;<br /> + Mild greatness subtly wrought<br /> + With quaint and childlike thought.</p> +<p>She sits to music: fingers fall,<br /> + Air shakes; her lifted voice<br /> + Makes flattered hope rejoice,<br /> +And shivering through Time’s phantom pall,<br /> + Its wavering rents display<br /> + Dim splendour, far away;</p> +<p>Where her perfection, glory-crowned,<br /> + Shall rest in love for ever;<br /> + When mortal systems sever,<br /> +And the orbed universe is drowned,<br /> + Leaving the empty skies<br /> + The blank of death-closed eyes.</p> +<p><!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>Deep +in this truth I root my trust;<br /> + And know the dear One’s praise,<br /> + Her mutely gracious ways,<br /> +When all her loveliness is dust<br /> + And mosses rase her name,<br /> + Will bless our world the same.</p> +<p>As scent of flowers her worth was born<br /> + Her joyous goodness spread<br /> + Like music over head,<br /> +Smiles now as smiles a plain of corn<br /> + When in the winds of June,<br /> + Lit by a shining noon.</p> +<p>A gap of sunlight in the storm;<br /> + A blossom ere the spring;<br /> + Immortal whispering;<br /> +A spirit manifest through form<br /> + Which we can touch and kiss,—<br /> + To life such beauty is.</p> +<p><!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>Ah! +who can doubt, though he may doubt<br /> + Our solid earth will run<br /> + A future round the sun,<br /> +That gentle impulse given out<br /> + Can never fail or die,<br /> + But throbs eternally!</p> +<h4><!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>VII. +HER SHADOW.</h4> +<p>At matin time where creepers interlace<br /> +We sauntered slowly, for we loved the place,<br /> +And talked of passing things; I, pleased to trace<br /> +Through leafy mimicry the true leaves made,<br /> +The stateliness and beauty of her shade;</p> +<p>A wavering of strange purples dimly seen,<br /> +It gloomed the daisy’s light, the kingcup’s sheen,<br /> +And drank up sunshine from the vital green.<br /> +That silent shadow moving on the grass<br /> +Struck me with terror it should ever pass</p> +<p>And be blank nothing in the coming years<br /> +Where, in the dreadful shadow of my fears,<br /> +<!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>Her +shrouded form I saw through blurring tears,<br /> +My Darling’s shrouded form in beauty’s bloom<br /> +Born with funereal sadness to her tomb.</p> +<p>“What idle dreaming,” I abruptly cried:<br /> +My Lady turned, half startled, at my side,<br /> +And looked inquiry: I, through shame or pride,<br /> +Bantered the words as mockery of sense,<br /> +Mere aimless freak of fostered indolence.</p> +<p>She did not urge me; gentle, wise, and kind!<br /> +But clasped my hand and talked: her beaming mind<br /> +Arrayed in brightness all it touched. Behind,<br /> +Her shadow fell forgot, as she and I<br /> +Went homeward musing, smiling at the sky.</p> +<p>Thro’ pastures and thro’ fields where corn grew strong;<br /> +By cottage nests that could not harbour wrong;<br /> +<!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>Across +the bridge where laughed the stream; along<br /> +The road to where her gabled mansion stood,<br /> +Old, tall, and spacious, in a massy wood.</p> +<p>We loitered toward the porch; but paused meanwhile<br /> +Where Psyche holds a dial to beguile<br /> +The hours of sunshine by her golden smile;<br /> +And holds it like a goblet brimmed with wine,<br /> +Nigh clad in trails of tangled eglantine.</p> +<p>In the deep peacefulness which shone around<br /> +My soul was soothed: no darksome vision frowned<br /> +Before my sight while cast upon the ground<br /> +Where Psyche’s and My Lady’s shadows lay,<br /> +Twin graces on the flower-edged gravel way.</p> +<p>I then but yearned for Titian’s glorious power,<br /> +That I by toiling one devoted hour,<br /> +<!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>Might +check the march of Time, and leave a dower<br /> +Of rich delight that beauty I could see,<br /> +For broadening generations yet to be.</p> +<h4><!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>VIII. +HER GARDEN.</h4> +<p>The wind that’s good for neither man nor beast<br /> +Weeks long incessant from the blighting East<br /> +Drove gloom and havoc through the land and ceased.<br /> +When swaying mildly over wide Atlantic seas,<br /> +Bland and dewy soft streamed the Western breeze.</p> +<p>In walking forth, I felt with vague alarm,<br /> +Closer than wont her pressure on my arm,<br /> +As through morn’s fragrant air we sought what harm<br /> +That Eastern wind’s despite had done the garden growth;<br /> +Where much lay dead or languished low for drouth.</p> +<p><!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>Her +own parterre was bounded by a red<br /> +Old buttressed wall of brick, moss-broidered;<br /> +Where grew mid pink and azure plots a bed<br /> +Of shining lilies intermixed in wondrous light;<br /> +She called them “Radiant spirits robed in white.”</p> +<p>Here the mad gale had rioted and thrown<br /> +Far drifts of snowy petals, fiercely blown<br /> +The stalks in twisted heaps: one flower alone<br /> +Yet hung and lit the waste, the latest blossom born<br /> +Among its fallen kinsmen left forlorn.</p> +<p>“Thy pallid droop,” cried I, “but more than all,<br /> +Thy lonely sweetness takes my soul in thrall,<br /> +O Seraph Lily Blanch! so stately tall:<br /> +By violets adored, regarded by the rose,<br /> +Well loved by every gentle flower that blows!”</p> +<p>My Lady dovelike to the lily went,<br /> +Took in curved palms a cup, and forward leant,<br /> +Deep draining to the gold its dreamy scent.<br /> +<!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>I +see her now, pale beauty, as she bending stands,<br /> +The wind-worn blossom resting in her hands!</p> +<p>Then slowly rising, she in gazing trance<br /> +Affrayed, long pored on vacancy. A glance<br /> +Of chilly splendour tinged her countenance<br /> +And told the saddened truth, that stress of blighting weather,<br /> +Had made her lilies and My Lady droop together.</p> +<h4><!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>IX. +TOLLING BELL.</h4> +<p>“Weak, but her spirits good,” the letter said:<br /> +A bell was tolling, while these words I read,<br /> +A dull sepulchral summons for the dead.<br /> + Fear grew in every pace I strode<br /> + Hurrying on that endless road.</p> +<p>And when I reached the house a terror came<br /> +That wrought in me a hidden sense of blame,<br /> +And entering I scarce dared to speak her name,<br /> + Who lay, sweet singer, warbling low<br /> + Rhymes I made her long ago.</p> +<p> “The sun exhales the morning dew,<br /> + The dew returns again<br /> + At eve refreshing rain:<br /> + <!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>The +forest flowers bloom bravely new,<br /> + They drooping fade and die,<br /> + The seeds that in them lie<br /> + Will blossom as the others blew.”</p> +<p> “And ever rove among the flowers<br /> + Bright children who ere long<br /> + Are men and women strong:<br /> + When on they pass through sun and showers,<br /> + And glancing sideways watch<br /> + Their children run to catch<br /> + A rainbow with the laughing Hours.”</p> +<p>I watched in awkward wonder for a time<br /> +As there she listless lay and sang my rhyme,<br /> +Wrapped up in fabrics of an Indian clime<br /> + She seemed a Bird of Paradise<br /> + Languid from the traversed skies.</p> +<p>A dawn-bright snowy peak her smile . . . Strange I<br /> +Should dawdle near her grace admiringly,<br /> +When love alarmed and challenged sympathy,<br /> + <!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>Announced +in chills of creeping fear<br /> + Danger surely threatening near.</p> +<p>I shrank from searching the abyss I felt<br /> +Yawned by; whose verge voluptuous blossoms belt<br /> +With dazzling hues:—she speaks! I fall and melt,<br /> + One sacred moment drawn to rest,<br /> + Deeply weeping in her breast:</p> +<p>Within the throbbing treasure wept? But brief<br /> +Those loosening tears of blessed deep relief,<br /> +That won triumphant ransom from my grief,<br /> + While loving words and comfort she<br /> + Breathed in angel tones to me.</p> +<p>Our visions met, when pityingly she flung<br /> +Her passionate arms about me, kissing clung,<br /> +Close kisses, stifling kisses; till each wrung,<br /> + With welded mouths, the other’s bliss<br /> + Out in one long sighing kiss.</p> +<p><!-- page 70--><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>Love-flower +that burst in kisses and sweet tears,<br /> +Scattering its roseate dreamflakes, disappears<br /> +Into cold truth: for, loud with brazen jeers,<br /> + That bell’s toll, clanging in my brain,<br /> + Beat me, loth, to earth again:</p> +<p>Where, looking on my Love’s endangered state,<br /> +Wrought by keen anguish mad, I struck at fate,<br /> +Prostrating mockingly in sport or hate<br /> + The aspirations, darkling, we<br /> + Cherish and resolve to be.</p> +<p>She spoke, but sharply checked; then as her zone<br /> +A lady’s hands would clasp, My Lady’s own<br /> +Pressed at her yielding side; her solemn tone<br /> + And forward eager face implored<br /> + Me to kneel where she adored.</p> +<p>Despite her pain, with tender woman’s phrase<br /> +She solaced me, whose part it was to raise<br /> +Anew the gladness to her weakened gaze,<br /> + <!-- page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>And +wisely in man’s firmness be<br /> + To my drooping vine a tree.</p> +<p>But no; sunk, dwindled, dwarfed, and mean, beside<br /> +Her couch I sitting saw her eyes grow wide<br /> +With awe, and heard her voice move as the tide<br /> + Of steady music rich and calm<br /> + In some high cathedral psalm.</p> +<p>Then, as that high cathedral psalm o’erflows<br /> +The dusky, vaulted aisles, and slowly grows<br /> +A burst of harmony the hearer knows,<br /> + Her voice assailed by rage, and I<br /> + Took its purport wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Ah, pause for dread, before you charge in haste<br /> +The ways of fate; for how can those be traced<br /> +That in the life Omnipotent lie based?<br /> + Or earth-grown atom’s bounded soul<br /> + Grasp the universal whole?</p> +<p><!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>“The +more he chafes, the worse his fetter galls<br /> +The luckless captive closed in dungeon walls,<br /> +And fighting chains and stones, he fighting falls.<br /> + Nor will that wasteful immolation<br /> + Touch his lofty victor’s station.</p> +<p>“Woe be to him perverse, who, weak and blind,<br /> +In pride refusing to behold, shall find<br /> +The ponderous roll of circumstance will grind<br /> + His steps; and if he turn not, must<br /> + Bruise and crush him into dust.</p> +<p>“We are the Lord’s, not ours, His angels sing;<br /> +So you, mine own, bow meekly to your King,<br /> +And striving hard and long His grace will bring:<br /> + His voice shall through the battle cry,<br /> + When the strife is raging high.”</p> +<p>She fluttering paused: awhile her surging zeal<br /> +All utterance overwhelmed to mute appeal:<br /> +I felt as men who fallen in battle feel,<br /> + <!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>When +far their chief’s sword, like a gem,<br /> + Points to glory not for them.</p> +<p>“When naked heaven is azure to your eyes,<br /> +And light shines everywhere, you can be wise;<br /> +But, when its storms in common course arise,<br /> + To you the wind but sobs and grieves<br /> + Wailing with the streaming leaves.</p> +<p>“Rust eats the steel, and moths corrupt the cloth,<br /> +And peevish doubts destroy the soul that’s loth<br /> +To strive for duty, merged in shameful sloth,<br /> + And lolls a weary wretch forlorn,<br /> + While men reap the mellow corn.</p> +<p>“It is not man’s to dream in sweet repose;<br /> +He toils and murmurs, as he wondering goes,<br /> +Poor changeful glitter on the stream that flows<br /> + In lapses huge and solemn roar,<br /> + Ever on without a shore.</p> +<p><!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>“The +plantlet grown in darkness puts forth spray;<br /> +Through loaded gloom yearns feebly toward some ray<br /> +Of bounty golden from the outer day<br /> + That shines eternally sublime<br /> + On the dancing motes of time.”</p> +<p>The music stopped, and passed into a smile<br /> +Of tenderness, which she impressed to guile<br /> +Her pain from me: I gazed as one awhile<br /> + Escaped, who sees twin rainbows shine<br /> + O’er his wrecked ship gulfed in brine.</p> +<p>My lost soul sank adown in soundless seas<br /> +To ruined heaps besprent with ancient lees<br /> +Of wealth: by soft stupendous ocean-trees;<br /> + By anchors forged in early time,<br /> + Changed to trails of rusted slime:</p> +<p>To where, what seemed a tomb, in this deep hell<br /> +Of night, bore a dim name I dread to tell:<br /> +And there I heard sound some gigantic bell,<br /> + <!-- page 75--><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>Whose +thunder laughing through my brain<br /> + Mocked me back to flesh again.</p> +<p>Here all was emptier than the empty shade<br /> +Of mist before a midnight moon decayed:<br /> +Here life was strange as death, and more dismayed<br /> + My spirit, now scarce conscious she<br /> + Urged entreaty yet to me.</p> +<p>“’Tis life in life to know the King is just,<br /> +And will not animate his helpless dust<br /> +With fire unquenchable whose ardour must<br /> + Achieve majestic deeds that raise<br /> + Universal shouts of praise:</p> +<p>“Shouts of acclaim that gather into story,<br /> +Chanted by one on some high promontory<br /> +Who glowing in the dawn’s advancing glory,<br /> + Far down upon the listening crowd<br /> + Shines through swathes of lingering cloud:</p> +<p><!-- page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>“And +fires, by what he sings, to noble feud<br /> +With grosser instincts, the charged multitude,<br /> +That grow in temper and similitude<br /> + To those great souls whose victories<br /> + Triumph still in melodies:</p> +<p>“This fire will not be granted to distress,<br /> +To fail in cold dead ash and bitterness:<br /> +He will not grant true love that yearns to bless<br /> + The world, that it may only sigh<br /> + Back into itself and die.”</p> +<p>The words here faltering sank to undertone:<br /> +Her soul was murmuring to itself alone<br /> +On some wide desolation, dark, unknown;<br /> + Whose limits, stretched from mortal sight<br /> + Touch the happy hills of light.</p> +<p>“I, toiling at the task assigned to me,<br /> +Am summoned from my labour suddenly:<br /> +The King recalls his handmaiden; and she<br /> + <!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>Submissively +herself anoints,<br /> + Going whither He appoints.</p> +<p>“The sheaves are garnered now, her work is done,<br /> +The day is waning, and she must be gone,<br /> +To bend herself before the Holy One,<br /> + And strictly her appointed meed<br /> + There accept in very deed.”</p> +<p>Dead silence, more than if a thunder-stroke<br /> +Had crashed the summer air, my sense awoke<br /> +To sudden apprehension: hard the yoke<br /> + Of misery was mine to bear;<br /> + Wrath-befooled, in my despair</p> +<p>I went, and, leaning from the lattice, mused<br /> +On my immeasurable woe; accused<br /> +Heaven’s King, that, like an earthly king, abused<br /> + His power omnipotent, and hurled<br /> + Curses broadcast on the world.</p> +<p><!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>Then +glancing toward her danger thought, “A cell<br /> +Of noxious vapours this dull life; as well<br /> +She should escape: so pure! she scarce could dwell<br /> + With sinful creatures who alway<br /> + Stumbling take the stain of clay</p> +<p>“But I unworthy! How in conscience I—<br /> +How could I hazard guidance in her high<br /> +Cold path of duty leading to the sky!<br /> + As well hold torch to light a star<br /> + Shining, mystic, nebular.</p> +<p>“She yearns to bless the world: just love for all<br /> +Best shows in love for one; love cannot fall<br /> +Like sunshine over half this wondrous ball,<br /> + But her impulses yearn to bless<br /> + All the world. Strange tenderness!”</p> +<p>This shameful mockery of myself alone<br /> +Was interrupted by a sobbing moan<br /> +That brought me to her coach, where low mine own<br /> + <!-- page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>Sweet +Love lay swooning ashy white,<br /> + Eyelids closing from the light.</p> +<p>Ah, coarse, hard, bitter, brutal self! A beast<br /> +In passion, nay far worse than such, to feast<br /> +On baseless anger against her whose least<br /> + Stray word was kind; her daily food<br /> + Interest in another’s good.</p> +<p>My passion then, like an unruly horse<br /> +Checked by a master’s hand, fell slack; its force<br /> +Unnerved, and stifling me with hot remorse;<br /> + Frightened, despairing, “Love,” I cried,<br /> + Wildly busy at her side;</p> +<p>And kissed and chafed her brow; I chafed her hand;<br /> +Audacious grown with fear, released the band<br /> +That clasped her tender waist, and keenly scanned<br /> + Each feature, till her opening eyes<br /> + Met my own in bright surprise</p> +<p><!-- page 80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>“Ah +you! I had from you passed and the world<br /> +Through endless nothing rudely was I hurled<br /> +While you there hung above, your proud lip curled,<br /> + Regarding me with piercing hate<br /> + Crying I deserved my fate.”</p> +<p>We met each other, as when waters meet<br /> +In long continued shock, and muttering, sweet<br /> +Confusion mixed in unity complete<br /> + That changing time may not dissever;<br /> + One in love and one for ever.</p> +<p>Purged by remorse, love knit my strength; and now<br /> +Came gracious power to still upon her brow<br /> +Those troubled waves of some dark underflow;<br /> + Her soul victorious over pain<br /> + Spoke in golden smiles again.</p> +<p>We sat and read how Prospero closed his strife<br /> +With evil, wrought his charm, and crowned his life<br /> +In making two fair beings man and wife:<br /> + <!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>Of +brave Count Gismond’s happy lot;<br /> + And the Lady of Shalott.</p> +<p>We ceased; for eve had come by dusky stealth.<br /> +I saw, while lifting her, like crimson health<br /> +Burn in her cheeks, holding the weighted wealth<br /> + Of all the worlds in heaven to me;<br /> + Held her long, long, lingeringly:</p> +<p>And laying down more than my life, her weight;<br /> +Scarce kissed her pallid hands, then moved with great<br /> +Reluctance, bodeful, from her placid state;<br /> + But, ere my slow feet reached the door,<br /> + Turned and caught one last look more,</p> +<p>And awe-struck stood to see portentous loom<br /> +From her large eyes full gazing through the gloom<br /> +Love darkly wedded to eternal doom,<br /> + <!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>As +she were gazing from the dead:<br /> + Falling at her feet I said,</p> +<p>“Bless me, dear Love, bless me before I go;<br /> +With love divine a beam of comfort throw,<br /> +For guidance and support, that I through woe<br /> + Be raised and purified in grace<br /> + Worthy to behold your face.”</p> +<p>She bowed her head in stately tenderness<br /> +Low whispering as her hands my brow did press,<br /> +“I pray that He will your lone spirit bless,<br /> + And if to leave you be my fate,<br /> + Pray you for me while I wait.”</p> +<p>A useless pang in her no more to wake,<br /> +I forced myself away, nor dared to take<br /> +Another look for her belovèd sake;<br /> + My face had told of the distressed<br /> + Swollen heart labouring in my breast.</p> +<p><!-- page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>When +in the outer air, I felt as one<br /> +Fresh startled from a dream, wherein the sun<br /> +Had dying left the earth a dingy, dun<br /> + Annihilation. The nightjar<br /> + Only thrilled the air afar:</p> +<p>No other sound was there: a muffled breeze<br /> +Crept in the shrubs, and shuddered up the trees,<br /> +Then sought the ghost-white vapour of the leas,<br /> + Where one long sheet of dismal cloud<br /> + Swathed the distance in a shroud.</p> +<p>A solitary eye of cold stern light<br /> +Stared threateningly beyond the Western height,<br /> +Wrapped in the closing shadows of the night;<br /> + And all the peaceful earth had slept<br /> + But that eye stern vigil kept.</p> +<p>I wandered wearily I knew not where;<br /> +Up windy downs far-stretching, bleak and bare;<br /> +Through swamps that soddened under stagnant air;<br /> + <!-- page 84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>In +blackest woods and brambled mesh,<br /> + Thorny bushes tore my flesh:</p> +<p>Amid the ripening corn I heard it sigh,<br /> +Hollow and sad, as night crawled sluggishly:<br /> +Hollow and sadly sighed the corn while I<br /> + Moved darkly in the midst, a blight<br /> + Darkening more the hateful night.</p> +<p>My soul its hoarded secrets emptied on<br /> +The vaulted gloom of night: old fancies shone,<br /> +And consecrated ancient hopes long gone;<br /> + Old hopes that long had ceased to burn,<br /> + Gone, and never to return.</p> +<p>No starlight pierced the dense vault over head,<br /> +And all I loved was passing or had fled:<br /> +So on I wandered where the pathway led;<br /> + And wandered till my own abode<br /> + Spectral pale rose from the road.</p> +<p><!-- page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>What +time I gained my home I saw the morn<br /> +Made dimly on the sullen East. Wayworn<br /> +I went into the echoing house forlorn,<br /> + Heartsick and weary sought my room,<br /> + Better had it been my tomb.</p> +<p>I lay, and ever as my lids would close<br /> +In dull forgetfulness to slumberous doze,<br /> +Lone sounds of phantom tolling scared repose;<br /> + Till wearied nature, sore oppressed,<br /> + Slowly sank and dropped to rest.</p> +<h4><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>X. +WILL-O’-THE-WISP.</h4> +<p> “Gone the sickness, fled the pain,<br /> + Health comes bounding back again,<br /> +And all my pulses tingle for delight.<br /> + Together what a pleasant thing<br /> + To ramble while the blackbirds sing,<br /> +And pasture lands are sparkling dewy bright!</p> +<p> “Soon will come the clear spring weather,<br /> + Hand in hand we’ll roam together,<br /> +And hand in hand will talk of springs to come;<br /> + As on the morning when you played<br /> + The necromancer with my shade,<br /> +In senseless shadow gazing darkly dumb.</p> +<p> <!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 88</span>“Cast +away that cloudy care,<br /> + Or, I vow, in my parterre<br /> +You shall not enter when the lilies blow,<br /> + And I go there to stand and sing<br /> + Songs to the heaven-white wondrous ring;<br /> +Sir Would-be-Wizard of the crumpled brow!”</p> +<h4><!-- page 89--><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>XI. +GIVEN OVER.</h4> +<p> The men of learning say she must<br /> +Soon pass and be as if she had not been.<br /> + To gratify the barren lust<br /> +Of Death, the roses in her cheeks are seen<br /> +To blush so brightly, blooming deeper damascene.</p> +<p> All hope and doubt, all fears are vain:<br /> +The dreams I nursed of honouring her are past,<br /> + And will not comfort me again.<br /> +I see a lurid sunlight throw its last<br /> +Wild gleam athwart the land whose shadows lengthen fast.</p> +<p> It does not seem so dreadful now<br /> +The horror stands out naked, stark, and still:<br /> + I am quite calm, and wonder how<br /> +<!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>My +terror played such mad pranks with my will.<br /> +The North winds fiercely blow, I do not feel them chill.</p> +<p> All things must die: somewhere I read<br /> +What wise and solemn men pronounce of joy;<br /> + No sooner born, they say, than dead:<br /> +The strife of being, but a whirling toy<br /> +Humming a weary moan spun by capricious boy.</p> +<p> Has my soul reached a starry height<br /> +Majestically calm? No monster, drear<br /> + And shapeless, glares me faint at night;<br /> +I am not in the sunshine checked for fear<br /> +That monstrous shapeless thing is somewhere crouching near?</p> +<p> No; woe is me! far otherwise:<br /> +The naked horror numbs me to the bone;<br /> + In stupor calm its cold blank eyes<br /> +Set hard at mine. I do not fall or groan,<br /> +Our island Gorgon’s face had changed me into stone.</p> +<h4><!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>XII. +STORM.</h4> +<p>Now thickening round the shrunken baseless sky,<br /> + Sullen vapours crawl<br /> +Climbing to masses, tumbled heavily<br /> + Grim in giant sprawl,<br /> +That smother up domed heaven’s scud-fleckered height<br /> +And form like mortal armies ranged for fight.</p> +<p>This lighted gloom spreads ghastly on the land;<br /> + Sheep do crowd; and herds<br /> +Collecting, bellow pitifully bland.<br /> + Quiet are the birds<br /> +In ghostly trees that shiver not a sound:<br /> +And leaves decayed drop straight unto the ground.</p> +<p><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>Drearily +solemn runs a monotone,<br /> + Heard through breathless hush,<br /> +Swollen torrents hissing far in lavish moan,<br /> + Foamed with headlong rush,<br /> +Sob on protesting, toward annihilation,<br /> +Their solitary dismal lamentation.</p> +<p>This gloom has sucked all interest from the scene,<br /> + Now changed wrathful grey:<br /> +Familiar things, that staring plain had been,<br /> + Fade in mists away:<br /> +At ambush, watching from its stormy lair,<br /> +Some danger hovering loads the stagnant air.</p> +<p>It serves to little purpose I may know<br /> + That electric law<br /> +Whereby the jagged glare and thunder-blow<br /> + Latent impulse draw;<br /> +No less my danger. Ha! that lightning flash<br /> +Proclaims in fire the coming thunder-crash.</p> +<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>But +what care I though deluges down pour<br /> + Beating earth to mire,<br /> +Though heaven shattering with the thunder’s roar<br /> + Scorcheth now in fire,<br /> +Though every planet molten from its place<br /> +Should trickle lost through everlasting space;</p> +<p>For this blank prospect, void of all but dread,<br /> + Void as any tomb,<br /> +My soul has left; and by a lonely bed,<br /> + In a girl’s sick room,<br /> +Hangs there expectant of her parting breath,<br /> +The silent voice of doom, the stroke of death.</p> +<h3><!-- page 95--><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>PART +THE SECOND.</h3> +<h4><!-- page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>I. +MY LADY IN DEATH.</h4> +<p>All is but coloured show. I look<br /> + Into the green light shed<br /> + By leaves above my head,<br /> +And feel its inmost worth forsook<br /> + My being, when she died.<br /> + This heart, now hot and dried,<br /> +Halts, as the parched course where a brook<br /> + Mid flowers was wont to flow,<br /> + Because her life is now<br /> +No more than stories in a printed book.</p> +<p>Grass thickens proudly o’er that breast,<br /> + Clay-cold and sadly still,<br /> + My happy face felt thrill.<br /> +How much her dear, dear mouth expressed!<br /> + <!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>And +now are closed and set<br /> + Lips which my own have met!<br /> +Her eyelids by the damp earth pressed!<br /> + Damp earth weighs on her eyes;<br /> + Damp earth shuts out the skies.<br /> +My Lady rests her heavy, heavy rest.</p> +<p>To see her high perfection sweep<br /> + The favoured earth, as she<br /> + With welcoming palms met me!<br /> +How can I but recall and weep?<br /> + Her hands’ light charm was such,<br /> + Care vanished at their touch.<br /> +Her feet spared little things that creep;<br /> + “For stars are not,” she’d say,<br /> + “More wonderful than they.”<br /> +And now she sleeps her heavy, heavy sleep.</p> +<p>Immortal hope shone on that brow,<br /> + Above whose waning forms<br /> + Go softly real worms.<br /> +<!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>Surely +it was a cruel blow<br /> + Which cut my Darling’s life<br /> + Sharply, as with a knife;<br /> +I hate my own that lets me grow<br /> + As grows a bitter root<br /> + From which rank poisons shoot<br /> +Upon the grave where she is lying low.</p> +<p>Ah, hapless fate! Could it be just,<br /> + That her young life should play<br /> + Its easy, natural way;<br /> +Then, with an unexpected thrust,<br /> + Be hence thus rudely sent;<br /> + Even as her feelings blent<br /> +With those around, whose love would trust<br /> + Her willing power to bless,<br /> + For all their happiness?<br /> +Alone she moulders into common dust.</p> +<p>Small birds twitter and peck the weeds<br /> + That wave above this bed<br /> + <!-- page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>Where +my dear Love lies dead:<br /> +They flutter and burst the globèd seeds,<br /> + And beat the downy pride<br /> + Of dandelions, wide:<br /> +From speargrass, bowed with watery beads,<br /> + The wet uniting, drips<br /> + In sparkles off the tips:<br /> +In mallow bloom the wild bee drops and feeds.</p> +<p>No more she hears, where vines adorn<br /> + Her window, on the boughs<br /> + Birds chirrup an arouse:<br /> +Flies, buzzing, strengthening with the morn,<br /> + She will not hear again<br /> + At random strike the pane:<br /> +No more against the newly shorn<br /> + Grass edges will her gown<br /> + In playful waves be thrown,<br /> +As she walks forth to view what flowers are born.</p> +<p><!-- page 101--><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>Nor +ponder more those dark green rings<br /> + Stained quaintly on the lea,<br /> + To picture elfin glee;<br /> +While through the grass a faint air sings,<br /> + And swarms of insects revel<br /> + Along the sultry level:<br /> +No more will watch their brilliant wings,<br /> + Now lightly dip, now soar,<br /> + Then sink, and rise once more.<br /> +My Lady’s death makes dear these trivial things.</p> +<p>One noon, within an oak’s broad shade,<br /> + Lost in delightful talk,<br /> + We rested from our walk.<br /> +Beyond the shadow, large and staid,<br /> + Cows chewed with drowsy eye<br /> + Their cud complacently:<br /> +Elegant deer walked o’er the glade,<br /> + Or stood with wide bright eyes<br /> + Gazing a short surprise;<br /> +And up the fern slope nimble conies played.</p> +<p><!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>As +rooks cawed labouring through the heat;<br /> + Each wing-flap seemed to make<br /> + Their weary bodies ache;<br /> +And swallows, though so wildly fleet,<br /> + Made breathless pauses there<br /> + At something in the air.<br /> +All disappeared: our pulses beat<br /> + Distincter throbs, and each<br /> + Turned and kissed without speech,<br /> +She trembling from her mouth down to her feet.</p> +<p>Then, as I felt her bosom heave,<br /> + And listened to the din<br /> + Of joyous life within,<br /> +Could I but in my heaven believe,<br /> + Assured by that repose<br /> + Within my heart, and those<br /> +Warm arms around my neck! While eve<br /> + In shadowy silence came<br /> + And quenched the Western flame,<br /> +That lingered round her as if loth to leave.</p> +<p><!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span>Then +told I in a whispered tone<br /> + Of that approaching time,<br /> + When merry peal and chime<br /> +Of marriage ringing should make known,<br /> + In crashes through the air<br /> + Exultingly we were<br /> +By solemn rite each other’s own:<br /> + And she, confiding, meek,<br /> + Against mine pressed her cheek,<br /> +And gave response in happy tears alone.</p> +<p>No heed of time took we, because<br /> + Those clanging bells had quite<br /> + Absorbed us in delight.<br /> +A happiness so perfect awes<br /> + The failing pulse and breath,<br /> + Like the mute doom of death:<br /> +Then, in an instantaneous pause<br /> + Flashed on my vacant eye<br /> + A swift Eternity;<br /> +And starting, as if clutched by demon-claws,</p> +<p><!-- page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>Awakened +from a dizzy swoon,<br /> + I felt appalling fears<br /> + With ringings in my ears,<br /> +And wondered why the glaring moon<br /> + Swung round the dome of night<br /> + With such stupendous might.<br /> +Next came, like the sweet air of June,<br /> + A treacherous calm suspense<br /> + That bred a loathly sense,<br /> +Some nameless ill would overwhelm us soon.</p> +<p>She passed like summer flowers away.<br /> + Her aspect and her voice<br /> + Will never more rejoice,<br /> +For she lies hushed in cold decay.<br /> + Broken the golden bowl<br /> + Which held her hallowed soul:<br /> +It was an idle boast to say<br /> + “Our souls are as the same,”<br /> + And stings me now to shame:<br /> +Her spirit went, and mine did not obey.</p> +<p><!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>The +black truth, with a fiery dart,<br /> + Went hurtling through my thought,<br /> + When I beheld her brought<br /> +Whence she with life did not depart.<br /> + Her beauty by degrees<br /> + Sank, sharpened from disease:<br /> +The heavy sinking at her heart<br /> + Sucked hollows in her cheek,<br /> + And made her eyelids weak,<br /> +Though oft they opened wide with sudden start.</p> +<p>The Deathly Power in silence drew<br /> + My Lady’s life away.<br /> + I watched, dumb for dismay,<br /> +The shock of thrills that quivered through<br /> + Her wasted frame, and shook<br /> + The meaning in her look,<br /> +As near, more near, the moment grew.<br /> + O horrible suspense!<br /> + O giddy impotence!<br /> +I saw her features lax, and change their hue.</p> +<p><!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 106</span>Her +gaze, grown large with fate, was cast<br /> + Where my mute agonies<br /> + Made sadder her sad eyes:<br /> +Her breath caught with short plucks and fast,<br /> + Then one hot choking strain;<br /> + She never breathed again.<br /> +I had the look which was her last:<br /> + Her love, when breath was gone,<br /> + One moment lingering shone,<br /> +Then slowly closed, and hope for ever passed.</p> +<p>A dreadful tremour ran through space<br /> + When first the mournful toll<br /> + Rang for My Lady’s soul.<br /> +The shining world was hell; her grace<br /> + Only the flattering gleam<br /> + And mockery of a dream:<br /> +Oblivion struck me like a mace,<br /> + And as a tree that’s hewn<br /> + I dropped, in a dead swoon,<br /> +And lay a long time cold upon my face.</p> +<p><!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 107</span>Earth +had one quarter turned before<br /> + My miserable fate<br /> + Pressed down with its whole weight.<br /> +My sense came back; and shivering o’er<br /> + I felt a pain to bear<br /> + The sun’s keen cruel glare,<br /> +Which shone not warm as heretofore;<br /> + And never more its rays<br /> + Will satisfy my gaze:<br /> +No more; no more; O, never any more.</p> +<h4><!-- page 109--><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>II. +DAY DREAM.</h4> +<p>What art thou whispering lowly to thy babe,<br /> +O wan girl-mother, with Madonna lids<br /> +Downcast? Why pressest thou so close his pale<br /> +Geranium cheek to thy yet whiter breast?<br /> +Ah, doubtless sweet; to feel him draw the stream<br /> +That fills with strength his lily limbs! And laughs<br /> +Thine own heart with his deeply dimpled laughter,<br /> +Answering straight thy dainty finger’s touch?<br /> +And understandeth he that murmurous moan,<br /> +Wherewith thou hushest, patting him to rest?</p> +<p> What visions charm thy gaze, now resting wide<br /> +In settled sweet content? Beholdest thou<br /> +Thy babe, now sprung a man, walk sunhazed slopes<br /> +<!-- page 110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>With +one lovelier than visions; lovely as<br /> +The truth, O Love, when thou dost smile on me?<br /> +Or seest thou him still greater grown in might,<br /> +And stout of action marching on to reach<br /> +That changeful coloured flag, whose waving crests<br /> +The glittering heights of fame, for which men pant;<br /> +Unmindful there what tempests rage and sweep;<br /> +Alas; what dream has made that watery veil<br /> +Hide thine eye’s light from mine; even as a mist<br /> +Passing between me and a harvest moon!<br /> +And whence this shadowy wall that baulks my gaze?<br /> +Why fadest thou, thyself, in mist, O Love?<br /> +Whither hath fled thy babe—and where art thou?—<br /> +Where am I?—Is it life—a dream—or death?</p> +<p> Ah me; alas, this crushing wretchedness!<br /> +And I a vainer fool than one who yearns<br /> +Clutching at rainbows spanned across the sky!<br /> +<!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>Ah, +hope diseased! My spirit lured astray<br /> +By siren hope drifts hard by some dark fate:<br /> +And hope alternating despair has mixed<br /> +My life so long with charnelled death, that I<br /> +Can scarce resolve the present from my past,<br /> +Nor what might once have been from what is now.</p> +<p> Ah, Dearest! shall I never see thy face<br /> +Again: not ever; never any more?<br /> +I know that fancy was but naught, and one<br /> +Born of past hope: I know thy earthly form<br /> +Is mouldering in its tomb; but yet, O Love,<br /> +Thy spirit must dwell somewhere in this waste<br /> +Of worlds, that fill the overwhelming heavens<br /> +With light and motion; that could never die;<br /> +And wilt thou not vouchsafe one beaming look<br /> +To ease a lonely heart that beats in pain<br /> +For loss of thee, and only thee, O Love?<br /> +Or hast thou found in that pure life thou livest<br /> +My soul was an unworthy choice for thine,<br /> +And therefore takest no count of its despair?<br /> +<!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>And +yet, yea verily, thy love was true;<br /> +I would not wrong thee with another thought:<br /> +I would not enter at the gates of heaven<br /> +By thinking else than that thy love was true.<br /> +But I obtain no response to my cries,<br /> +Making within my soul all void, and cold,<br /> +And comfortless.<br /> + Ay, empty, as this +grate,<br /> +Of life, wherefrom the fire has well nigh fled,<br /> +Leaving but chasmed ugliness and ruin:<br /> +And weak as faltering of these taper flames<br /> +Half sunken in their sockets, by whose gleam<br /> +I see, though faintly, where my books stand ranged<br /> +Most mute; though sometime eloquent to me;<br /> +And where my pictures hang with other forms<br /> +Instinct from what I know: where friends portrayed<br /> +Like ghosts loom on me from another world.<br /> +Then what remains, but, like a child worn out<br /> +With weeping, that I sink me down to rest,<br /> +To sleep, not dream—and if I could to die?</p> +<h4><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>III. +MY LADY’S VOICE FROM HEAVEN.</h4> +<p>I had been sitting by her tomb<br /> + In torpor one dark night;<br /> +When fitful tremours shook the doom<br /> +Of cold lethargic settled gloom,<br /> + That weighed upon my sight:</p> +<p>And while I sat, and sickly heaves<br /> + Disturbed my spirit’s sloth,<br /> +A wind came, blown o’er distant sheaves,<br /> +That hissing, tore and lashed the leaves<br /> + And lashed the undergrowth:</p> +<p>It roared and howled, it raged about<br /> + With some determined aim;<br /> +<!-- page 114--><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>And +storming up the night, brought out<br /> +The moon, that like a happy shout,<br /> + Called forth My Lady’s name,</p> +<p>In sudden splendour on the stone.<br /> + Then, for an instant, I<br /> +Snatched and heaped up my past, bestrown<br /> +With hopes and kisses, struggling moan,<br /> + And pangs: as suddenly,</p> +<p>Oppressed with overwhelming weight,<br /> + Down fell the edifice;<br /> +When touched, as by the hand of Fate,<br /> +My gloom was gone. I felt my state<br /> + So light, I sobbed for bliss.</p> +<p>The loud winds, spent in seeking rest,<br /> + Dropped dead. My fevered brow<br /> +Drank coolness from the grass it pressed;<br /> +And in my desolated breast<br /> + A change began to grow,</p> +<p><!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>While +feeling those tears slowly drain<br /> + The load of grief which had<br /> +A sluggish curse within me lain,<br /> +Save when remembrance wrought my brain<br /> + For vivid moments mad.</p> +<p>My tears, as treasures of a wreck<br /> + That in the ocean slept,<br /> +Recovered, ran without a check;<br /> +And earth was my good mother’s neck<br /> + To which I clung and wept.</p> +<p>I rose at length, and felt a dense<br /> + Benumbed dead weight. And now<br /> +The night air hung in deep suspense!<br /> +A singing hush that pressed my sense<br /> + And stunned me like a blow:</p> +<p>Through my lids clenched the living air<br /> + In gold and purple rings<br /> +<!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 116</span>Danced +musically round me there,<br /> +The light it held throbbed with the glare<br /> + And beat of rapid wings.</p> +<p>Mine eyes I dared not try to raise;<br /> + My Lady’s beamed on me<br /> +In fixed serenity of gaze,<br /> +And were what old sunshiny days<br /> + In childhood used to be.</p> +<p>A gasping lapse; and I was whirled<br /> + Round the faint void of space;<br /> +In dizzy circles hugely hurled,<br /> +I saw the constellated world<br /> + With every orb embrace,</p> +<p>To one stupendous vortex-light,<br /> + Spinning a fiery ram,<br /> +Then fail, struck out by sudden night;<br /> +When swung adown in headlong might,<br /> + Earth’s touch shook through my brain.</p> +<p><!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>The +dumb sound in mine ears was burst<br /> + By her portentous voice;<br /> +As sweet as death to one accursed,<br /> +As unto one near blind for thirst<br /> + A running water’s noise.</p> +<p>Her voice in some translucent star,<br /> + Remote, beyond my sight,<br /> +Was singing marvellously far;<br /> +And yet so strangely near to jar,<br /> + As jars too strong a light.</p> +<p>She sang a song. She warbled low,<br /> + She did not sing in words;<br /> +I felt it in my spirit glow,<br /> +And knew it, as with joy I know<br /> + The morning shouts of birds.</p> +<p>But hard the task I undertake,<br /> + With mortal tongue to reach<br /> +<!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>The +utterance of my Love, and make<br /> +Her high immortal meaning break<br /> + To clearness through my speech!</p> +<p>I can no more, with glimmering trope<br /> + That into darkness runs,<br /> +Reveal its depth, than they could hope,<br /> +Who on in lifelong blindness grope,<br /> + To sing of rising suns.</p> +<p>“Or e’er that life my King had lent<br /> + Was lifted into rest,<br /> +His message through my lips He sent,<br /> +And on thy path His glory went<br /> + To guide thee to the blessed.</p> +<p>“But thou didst turn thy face, and scorn<br /> + His grace divine as nought;<br /> +And set thy gaze to earth forlorn,<br /> +And rage at fate, till gaunt and worn,<br /> + Death mouldered in thy thought.</p> +<p><!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 119</span>“Thou, +blindly gross, didst toy with clay,<br /> + And in the ghastly gleam<br /> +Of charnel gloom didst kiss decay;<br /> +And many full moons waned away,<br /> + And left thee in thy dream.</p> +<p>“For with thy Lily’s worldly dress<br /> + Thou didst thine eyesight fill;<br /> +And scorn to know its loveliness<br /> +Were but an empty boast unless<br /> + Made living by His will.</p> +<p>“Thou mourn’dst not most the vanished soul<br /> + Which was my Lord’s through thine;<br /> +But more the broken pleasure-bowl,<br /> +Whose golden richness shed, when whole,<br /> + Its splendour in thy wine.</p> +<p>“And therefore living wert thou made<br /> + To taste the cup of death;<br /> +<!-- page 120--><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>And +therefore did the glory fade,<br /> +From guidance into deadly shade<br /> + That iced thy shuddering breath.</p> +<p>“Permitted, now I come to thee:<br /> + I warn thee of thy sin;<br /> +I urge thee cleanse thine eyesight free,<br /> +That purified thy soul may see<br /> + The way his love to win.</p> +<p>“His love incomprehensible<br /> + Did never turn away<br /> +From penitent whom harm befell;<br /> +But springeth like a desert well<br /> + For thirsting poor estray.</p> +<p>“Let him who scorneth mercy shown,<br /> + Unhappy one, beware!<br /> +For whoso lives in pride alone,<br /> +His pride shall harden to a stone<br /> + Too great for him to bear.</p> +<p><!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>“And +whoso, having warnèd been,<br /> + Refuseth still to turn,<br /> +Behind his shadow, shrunken mean,<br /> +A poring spectre shall be seen<br /> + With livid stare and girn.</p> +<p>“Thou troubled one, who unto me<br /> + Art next my Lord’s own grace,<br /> +O turn to Him, and He will be<br /> +A refuge from thy misery,<br /> + A smile upon thy face!</p> +<p>“A righteous strength will nerve thine arm,<br /> + And courage fill thy breast:<br /> +And having bravely warred on harm,<br /> +The cries of victory shall charm<br /> + Thy dying eyes to rest.</p> +<p>“And succoured ones shall praise his name<br /> + Who, toiling for them, died.<br /> +<!-- page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>And, +nobly sung, his honest fame<br /> +Shall beat in hearts unborn, and claim<br /> + Their love and grateful pride.</p> +<p>“And Love will lead her sacrifice<br /> + To where a shining row<br /> +Stand beckoning to the heights of bliss;<br /> +And she will clasp his hands and kiss<br /> + Welcome upon his brow.”</p> +<p>I knew not when the singing ceased<br /> + To trance my brightened soul,<br /> +Then from that long eclipse released.<br /> +But looking hopeful towards the East,<br /> + I saw flush pole to pole</p> +<p>The dawn, that had begun to show,<br /> + And through dank vapour burned,<br /> +As in a sick face lying low<br /> +The rich incarnadine would glow,<br /> + When healthy life returned.</p> +<p><!-- page 123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>Small +drowsy chirping met the light,<br /> + And dim in lowlands far<br /> +Lone marsh-birds winged their misty flight;<br /> +What time Her aspect on my sight<br /> + Beamed from the morning star.</p> +<p>It waned into the warbling day;<br /> + That, rising fierce and strong,<br /> +Now looked the Western gloom away,<br /> +And kindled such a roundelay,<br /> + The world awoke with song,</p> +<p>And fresh delicious breezes came<br /> + With scents of paradise<br /> +So tingling through my knitted frame,<br /> +That never since I lisped a name<br /> + Knew I such joy arise.</p> +<p>Pure was the azure over head;<br /> + Bright was the earth around;<br /> +<!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>While +I on resolution fed,<br /> +And moved, as one called from the dead,<br /> + In silence on the ground.</p> +<p>Toward my home I walked, elate<br /> + With hope and settled plan:<br /> +And reverent to the will of Fate,<br /> +In every step I trod my weight,<br /> + A sober-minded man.</p> +<h3><!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 125</span>PART +THE THIRD.</h3> +<h4><!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>I. +YEARS AFTER.</h4> +<p>Our world has spun ten circles round the light<br /> +Since here she vanished. In my helpless gaze,<br /> +To mark the spot, was fixed this carven stone,<br /> +Raw, garish, stolidly obtrusive then,<br /> +Now harmonising kindly with the rest.<br /> +A spray of centipedal ivy creeps<br /> +From death to birth, and reaches to her name;<br /> +With kisslike touch its tender leaflets feel<br /> +The letter’s edge,—I scarce can think it chance.</p> +<p> Now scene by scene that strange old long-ago,<br /> +Crowding my opened memory, presents<br /> +Tumultuous, as in dreams, some dreadful state<br /> +Wherein I knew not falsehood from the truth;<br /> +<!-- page 128--><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>Where +hope ascending struck the star of Love,<br /> +Then fell down headlong grovelling in despair;<br /> +But rose at length and walked the beaten way.<br /> +So dim and far these things; so worn and changed,<br /> +I scarcely feel that I am he who sought<br /> +And won her love. And is it true indeed,<br /> +That I absorbed in tenderest intercourse<br /> +Of trustful glance, and trustful clasping hands,<br /> +With her went wandering by the river side;<br /> +While over head melodious branches sang,<br /> +Scattering the gold of sunset-dazzled flowers<br /> +Breathing their perfumed sweetness from our path,<br /> +That flickering went to where in purple woods<br /> +The rugged church tower burned a wall of fire!</p> +<p> Did I, when silence awed the winter woods,<br /> +And giant shadows trenched the frosty ground<br /> +From bole and limb whose vault held in the night,<br /> +Love to behold the full-grown magic moon<br /> +Cast splendour glittering on the silver rime?<br /> + Yes; mid the notes and emerald flush of spring,<br /> +<!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>With +swollen brooks exulting through the fields,<br /> +And rainy wind that in an ocean-roar<br /> +Bore down the forest tops the livelong day,<br /> +Through straggling gleams, through random wafts of shade,<br /> +Rejoicingly I trod the glistening paths.<br /> + Yes, I it was, in dreamy golden haze,<br /> +Beheld poor men hard toiling all the hours,<br /> +And thought them happier than the birds that sang,<br /> +That sang and trilled in gurgles of delight.</p> +<p> Dallying I loitered in the golden time<br /> +Long after the loved nightingale had ceased<br /> +To pour his passionate impulse over plains<br /> +Of shivering corn, now ripened into wealth;<br /> +When sunset-coloured fruit in orchard crofts<br /> +Hung slowly mellowing under azure noons;<br /> +And, hushed in darkened leaves, the dreaming air<br /> +Swelled gently to a whispering sound, and died.<br /> +With joy I wandered on from knoll to knoll<br /> +<!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>And +lost in marvel, drank the lisping winds,<br /> +The fairy winds that lisped me all was good.<br /> +Nor marked I when the clogged horizon flew<br /> +In dusky vapour crowding up the skies;<br /> +But woke anon when deathlike pallor thrown<br /> +From wrathful drift laid the whole land in gloom;<br /> +When war, enormous war, broke through the heavens,<br /> +In sheets and streaking fire and thunderous clap,<br /> +With shock on shock, that crushed the ripened corn,<br /> +And swept the piled up midsummer to ruin.<br /> +That wrenched great timbers of a thousand years,<br /> +Shaking the strong foundations of the land.<br /> +And when at last the terrible tempest fell,<br /> +Wide heaven was emptied of the sun and stars,<br /> +And void of more than all their light to me.</p> +<p> Like fretted me to hollow weariness<br /> +When my sweet Dove of Paradise went off,<br /> +Ascending, glory-guarded, into heaven.<br /> +<!-- page 131--><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>Then +feeding on the past, and fondling death,<br /> +I grew in livid horror: soon had grown,<br /> +By foul self cankered, to a charnel ghoule,<br /> +Had not Almighty God, gracious in love,<br /> +Permitted her own presence once again,<br /> +Mysterious as a vision, yet once more<br /> +To come a shining warning and reveal<br /> +Athwart my path unfathomable gulfs,<br /> +And kindle hope wherewith I still might gain<br /> +The hills that shine for ever to the blessed.</p> +<p> Much striving has been mine since those events<br /> +Ruled the pulsation of my daily life:<br /> +And now they are a vulgar chronicle,<br /> +And gossiped over by the rudest tongues.<br /> +A haunting song of old felicities<br /> +Lured me, scarce consciously, down here to muse<br /> +Upon my shattered dreams; safe from the roar<br /> +Of interests in our grim metropolis,<br /> +The beating heart of England and the world.<br /> +Not seen by me, since on that wondrous night<br /> +<!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 132</span>Her +consolation came into my soul;<br /> +Yet here again I stand beside her tomb—<br /> +And here I muse, more wise and not so sad.</p> +<p> Hers was a gracious and a gentle house!<br /> +Rich in obliging nice observances<br /> +And famed ancestral hospitality.<br /> +A cool repose lay grateful through the place;<br /> +And pleasant duties promptly, truly done,<br /> +And every service moved by hidden springs<br /> +Sped with intelligence, went smoothly round.</p> +<p> The steward to that stately country home<br /> +Looked native there as lichen to the oak.<br /> +He first held station, chief in care and trust,<br /> +That day which gave his baby mistress birth;<br /> +And her he loved as father loves his own,<br /> +Bearing her too that reverence which we feel<br /> +Toward those who, born to loftier state than ours,<br /> +Sit their high fortune with becoming grace.<br /> +His love she ever sumptuously returned<br /> +<!-- page 133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>In +bounteous thankfulness for service done:<br /> +How brightly twinkled then his shrewd grey eyes,<br /> +And shone the roundness where his honest cheeks<br /> +Played to the rippling gladness of his mouth!<br /> +In childhood rambles, it was mostly he<br /> +She chose for partner, spite of blandishment;<br /> +And to her winsome ways he would forego<br /> +His pompous surveillance of wine and plate,<br /> +To guard her, lilting, where the summer lay<br /> +On honeyed murmuring limes, and under elms,<br /> +August with knotted centuries of strength<br /> +And rooks sonorous in their shadowy heights.<br /> +By thymy slopes, foot-deep in sward they roved,<br /> +Both lightly garrulous, and she, sweet child,<br /> +Fusing her whole attention into joy,<br /> +Until they stood before the lake, that gleamed<br /> +With water-lilies, sun, and moving cloud.<br /> +Then straight the flanking sedge, and reeds remote,<br /> +Gave clattering ducks and wild outlandish fowl,<br /> +That tore in stormy scampering and splash<br /> +<!-- page 134--><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>To +snap with clamour at the crumbled bread,<br /> +He had provided slyly, bent on fun:<br /> +The swans meanwhile, majestic, puffed, and slow,<br /> +Came proudly into action; but alas,<br /> +To small result; for by mischance the spoil<br /> +Through dexterous skirmish fell to meaner bills.<br /> +“Our bread is all cast on the waters now,<br /> +And well I’d like to know how many days<br /> +It must bide there before ’tis found again!”—<br /> +Some fool’s dull joke repeated: good man, he,<br /> +Unversed in deep text comment, never dreamed<br /> +What time its Abyssinian mountain roots<br /> +Swollen by fresh torrents mixed in Nubian lands,<br /> +And thundered down from rocky ledge to ledge;<br /> +How sacred Nilus flooding bank and plain<br /> +Transformed old Egypt to a shining sea:<br /> +And slaves in swarthy crowds, despised as dirt,<br /> +Paddled upon the water scattering corn,<br /> +While swam to their sad eyes a raking glance<br /> +Of temple sphinxes, palms, and pyramids,<br /> +Faint sacrificial fire with dismal cries;<br /> +<!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>And +small hard masters, armed with blooded thongs,<br /> +Jocose and fierce, scourged out their utmost toil.<br /> +Long ages ere man heard this promised hope,<br /> +<span class="smcap">The first shall be the last, the last the first</span>.<br /> +But the dear child his vacant prattle heard<br /> +In wonder, and believed it lore profound:<br /> +And ever after, when in solemn church,<br /> +(The very church I have before me now!)<br /> +Or household prayer, these words were touched upon,<br /> +Pert visions would intrude of gabbling fowls<br /> +Mid splashing water, sedge, and lily stars.</p> +<p> In wending home, he filled her lap with flowers;<br /> +And she, ere yet the house was reached, unloosed<br /> +His guarding hand, ran forward, glinted through<br /> +The porch, and with a joyous outcry lit<br /> +The room, where sat in converse or at books<br /> +Her parents: then, as she an hour before<br /> +Had seen those mirrored marvels of the lake<br /> +<!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 136</span>All +trembling merge to one confused turmoil<br /> +Of beauty broken into shattered light,<br /> +When o’er its surface swept the hungry fowls,<br /> +So blurred with shifting catches, so involved<br /> +Through eagerness, her babbled narrative<br /> +To the kind mother, who, embracing her,<br /> +Felt satisfied her child had been well pleased.<br /> +Then the great father, he would lightly lift<br /> +To knee his darling girl; with fingers cup<br /> +The tiny chin, and kiss the rosebud mouth;<br /> +And gently his large tawny hand would stroke<br /> +That woven sunshine glowing down her back,<br /> +Which changed to deepest auburn glossed with gold,<br /> +Calling her tricksy names. But, when at length<br /> +Appeared the calm inevitable nurse,<br /> +He laughed; and she in screaming laughter flew<br /> +By stalwart arm thrust high above his head<br /> +Immeshed in wild flowers emptied from her lap,<br /> +Which shaking off, he brought the screamer down,<br /> +And gaily swung her into willing arms.<br /> +<!-- page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>She +talked these childhood memories while we strolled<br /> +Among the scenes which bred them; for she loved<br /> +To dwell on things which some regard as slight:<br /> +But in her presence, told by her own self,<br /> +With clear apt words and satisfying voice;<br /> +The violet poise of her most graceful head<br /> +Flung forth in lighted gesture to reveal<br /> +The very fact; her hovering white hand<br /> +Almost in music warbling with her words,<br /> +And bounding all the tenderest care to please;—<br /> +Now, one by one, these aits of memory glow<br /> +In hallowed splendour, and have made less dark<br /> +A life I feel not altogether vain.</p> +<p> So common was her mother’s lot, that who<br /> +Can say “Like is not mine” is blessed indeed:<br /> +For they are countless that on shades have thrown<br /> +Their passion had been chilled for evermore!<br /> +Scarce at her bloom, and years before she met<br /> +The destined man her husband, girl-like she<br /> +<!-- page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>Adored +a youth with sparkling genius graced,<br /> +Who bound on great adventure spread all sail;<br /> +But needed ballast, working common sense,<br /> +And meeting storms, he foundered and was lost.<br /> +For long his fate dragged at her heart; it drained<br /> +Her strength; it left her vague and desolate:<br /> +Her life became as chill uneasy dreams<br /> +Wherefrom we cannot break. Yet be it said,<br /> +Lowly and truly gentle were her ways;<br /> +She was a tender and obedient wife,<br /> +And in a sweet and plaintive graciousness<br /> +Her every act performed. I trust her mind,<br /> +Subdued by constant sadness unavowed,<br /> +Grew clear of shadows, and at last could dwell<br /> +Upon the future, that in one straight path<br /> +Reached Justice throned in everlasting light,<br /> +And learned to feel that chastisement is love.<br /> + Somewhat through lethargy; and partly sense<br /> +Of duty in forgetfulness of grief;<br /> +With pleadings due to her own kindliness,<br /> +She came to take another as her lord;<br /> +<!-- page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 139</span>Then +came to yield herself in all and wed<br /> +Her husband’s own indomitable will:<br /> +He having gained her, cherished her, and loved<br /> +Her mild compliance with the strength of life.</p> +<p> He was a man of thews and goodly frame<br /> +Made swart in battle. Under Indian suns<br /> +Our foes had often there been taught to know<br /> +That weight of arm, resistless when he closed<br /> +Charging upon them with his sword and eye.<br /> +But when his father died, he left the East<br /> +For England; here to rule his own estate,<br /> +And reign among the county gentlemen,<br /> +Who duly came with pride to own him chief.<br /> +He had the kingly look of born command,<br /> +An eagle set of eye and curve of neck;<br /> +A cutting insight backed by solid sense;<br /> +Vast knowledge, and the facile use of it,<br /> +To break obstruction, or direct the force<br /> +Of will resolved to compass every end.<br /> +Withal a broad and generous natured man<br /> +<!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 140</span>Who +ever kindly turned the doubtful scale<br /> +Against himself: no tenant ever mourned<br /> +The day when the new master came to rule;<br /> +Nor were old village gossips heard lament<br /> +The good times fled with their departed lord.<br /> + Culture went hand in hand with strength in him:<br /> +Broad-versed was he in science; rock and soil,<br /> +Plant, shell, bird, beast, to complex form of man,<br /> +With something of the stars. Historic works<br /> +He mostly read; and ofttimes dug for trace<br /> +Of steps long past in archæology.<br /> +He loved the singers of our native land<br /> +Who take our souls up to the worth of life;<br /> +And those deep thinkers whose conclusions show<br /> +The secret principles that work the world.<br /> +He prized laborious Hallam; but declared<br /> +Carlyle half mad; “A coil of restive thoughts,<br /> +That touch on nothing sound or practical,<br /> +Told in outrageous jargon, cumbersome<br /> +As any Laplander’s costume!” Which I<br /> +<!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>In +ruffled pride would always straight oppose,<br /> +“Sound or unsound, his word is daylight truth,<br /> +That breeding heroes once was England’s boast,<br /> +And now we brag of making millionaires.<br /> +Your ‘practical’ means shortest cut to wealth:<br /> +But far too frequently purse robs the heart;<br /> +One growing heavy drains the other dry.<br /> +His style, poetically pregnant, oft<br /> +By note of admiration merely, hints<br /> +More than crammed Pro Con of your favourite’s page.”<br /> +At this he shouts a scornful roaring laugh,<br /> +The table shaking, and the vessels chinked<br /> +As fell his weighty arm: with massive gaze<br /> +In hurly-burly sort he bantered me:<br /> +“Young bubble-dreamer, plotting stanza rhymes,<br /> +What can you know of laws: what know of plans<br /> +Which bound these varied interests of ours,<br /> +Through crossing currents, fixed for certain ends,<br /> +To frame this state we call society,<br /> +The full outcome of immemorial time?<br /> +<!-- page 142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>Know, +here on earth wealth must not be despised,<br /> +For we are as we are. While men subsist<br /> +By interchanging goods and service, gold<br /> +Will be the grease that smooths the whole machine.<br /> +I grant a few, the greatest, live content<br /> +To give forth what has ripened in their minds;<br /> +But greed alone brings each result to grow<br /> +And spread its uses through the mass. Beside<br /> +Where honour, reason, or instinctive life,<br /> +Quite fails, there gold will prick the sluggard loon.<br /> +It wakes the drowsy lounger of the East,<br /> +Who lolls in sunshine idle as a gourd,<br /> +To toil like Irish hodmen. Roused, he hears<br /> +Coin ringing lively music; falls to work,<br /> +And digs, and hews, and grinds: he sees, not far,<br /> +Himself, a chief of horsemen richly clad,<br /> +Armed with long spears and silver-halted blades,<br /> +Seizing pachalic power by a swift blow.<br /> +But labour, having brought him gold, brings fears.<br /> +The weight of wealth has made his footfall staid;<br /> +<!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 143</span>He +longs for order, settled government,<br /> +And stands, a stern upholder, by the law.</p> +<p> “I know you flout this ‘gold materialism,’<br /> +For what you call the ‘gold of evening skies:’<br /> +But let me tell you, boy, for you ’tis well<br /> +My lands are broad and bankers true, or else<br /> +Your maiden, she, poor girl, I often think,<br /> +Would want a crust to eat and shoes to wear.”<br /> +Thus he, in what I call his ‘copper-gilt,’<br /> +For which I paid him tinsel; “She want shoes!<br /> +Her feet will press the flowers of paradise,<br /> +And, being angel, she will need no food.”<br /> +“Eugh! Get your tackle, let us catch some trout.”<br /> + She never stayed a long while from her home,<br /> +But lived a quiet life; contentedly<br /> +Taking the continent and many things<br /> +On trust; feeling our landscapes satisfied<br /> +Her love for scenes. When from a visit she<br /> +Returned, no lovelier picture ever blessed<br /> +My sight than when she swam into his arms,<br /> +<!-- page 144--><a name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>And +stood in beauty, frail, against his strength<br /> +Supporting her, and kissed his lips and cheeks<br /> +And brow. He then, as if his daughter yet<br /> +Were but a child, would press the upturned head<br /> +Between his hands, where peered the innocent face<br /> +Rosy with smile and blush, like a sweet flower<br /> +Bursting its tawny sheath: whereon he gazed<br /> +A father’s gaze immeasurably kind;<br /> +And long, in tenderness akin to pity,<br /> +There held her, who was beautiful and good.<br /> +One eve full late in balmy summer time<br /> +We feared the wind breathing of night had chilled<br /> +Her tranquil mother, as we paced a walk<br /> +Leading espalier-trellised to the house;<br /> +She ever heedful parted silently,<br /> +And flushed with sunset vanished from our gaze;<br /> +But we beheld her soon dawn from the porch<br /> +In haste bringing her mother’s mantle. When,<br /> +As comes the tide-wave up an easy beach,<br /> +Played with a billowy sound and look of foam<br /> +The thousand folds round her advancing feet,<br /> +<!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>Her +shape divine looking as great as ocean’s<br /> +Light beyond: yet no sea bird that gleams<br /> +From the blue-arched illimitable heaven<br /> +Could glide with lightness airier than she<br /> +To hang the garment round her mother’s neck;<br /> +And then strike, womanlike, the folds in place;<br /> +Kissing the thankful lips, and deftly fix<br /> +The fastening at her throat. While pondering thus<br /> +And patching these rich fragments, strange it seems<br /> +What little things obtrude on my regard!<br /> +I now remember every sculptured group,<br /> +And painted scene, and portrait, figured vase,<br /> +Each print unique, and gem, we once beheld<br /> +When visiting a mansion near, enriched<br /> +By generations of collected Art:<br /> +The masters, by whose hands the works were wrought,<br /> +Long mouldered into dust. Ah, well I know<br /> +Why some have burned their symbols in my brain<br /> +<!-- page 146--><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>And +rise before me now!<br /> + Stone-bound, Narcissus<br /> +Droops melting in himself; and Echo by,<br /> +In shrunk despair, hangs envying what he wastes.<br /> +Through smouldering morning mists a glorious sun<br /> +The mountain-shoulder burns; above, transmutes<br /> +The zenith cloudlets into airy gold;<br /> +And deep down, seen through pure crystalline blue,<br /> +Glimmer the village, lake, and mountain range.<br /> +Superb at ease a Lady stands and smiles<br /> +Sweet welcome to the world: though centuries<br /> +Have lapsed since she approved her painter’s work,<br /> +Her smile has such sincerity, all feel<br /> +They must have known her some time in their lives.<br /> +Here bossed on silver vase, a marriage train<br /> +Moves round to music: lookers-on cast flowers<br /> +Before the timid bending bride: meanwhile,<br /> +<!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 147</span>Stalwart +and proud, her bridegroom smiles abroad<br /> +As at a dazzling sun: the pipers blow,<br /> +The harpers twang, the cymbals clash, youths sing;<br /> +Six maidens walk behind to hold her veil,<br /> +One pair are sad, the next look vain, and two<br /> +Prettily whisper secrets to themselves.<br /> +Here from old paper stands, and looks of men<br /> +The manliest, and king of English kings,<br /> +The lion Cromwell, in his dress of war:<br /> +Beneath him coils a monster welling blood,<br /> +Whose severed heads stretch round in scattered gleam<br /> +Of mitre jewelled, coronet and crown.<br /> +Sharp cut on gem, set in a thick gold ring,<br /> +The size and roundness of a lady’s nail,<br /> +Love bleeding on the dart himself doth point;<br /> +Who thus had died, had not with tenderest touch<br /> +Immortal Psyche held the anguished heart<br /> +Fast to her own, and purified the pain,<br /> +And fanned him with her wings.<br /> + And now, as then,<br /> +<!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>Along +those hushed rich corridors we moved,<br /> +Poring each masterpiece we favoured most,<br /> +And would no longer stay, but felt some chance<br /> +Must serve us for the rest: musing, I pass<br /> +From scene to scene of My Dear Lady’s life,<br /> +And leave my other memories undisturbed.</p> +<p> Beneath this airy sapphire’s brooding rest,<br /> +Its shadows overcast me with a chill<br /> +Like coming storm, that black calamity<br /> +Which struck and took our Darling from their charge<br /> +And mine. Grief stupefied us all. At once<br /> +The childless mother lost her wavering strength,<br /> +And lay prostrated; never tasting life<br /> +On earth again! Beside her husband sat<br /> +And watched her fading; saw the last poor smile<br /> +Wane from her features; till the closing eyes<br /> +Lit into tearful rapture; when he knew<br /> +Love’s immortality to her revealed.<br /> +With both her own she mutely clasped his hand,<br /> +<!-- page 149--><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 149</span>And +held it in most gentle pressures fixed:<br /> +But when the tender grasp relaxed and fell,<br /> +The world closed round him to a stony blank.</p> +<p> And now was stricken down the mighty man;<br /> +As the ripe harvest levelled by a storm<br /> +At morningtide; which, ere sun warmth anew<br /> +Can flatter into strength, a second storm<br /> +O’erwhelms and scattereth to waste at even.</p> +<p> When that torpidity which follows pain<br /> +Through strangeness passed to natural regard<br /> +For daily wants; his vacant home he loathed:<br /> +His spacious garden grounds; his lake; his woods;<br /> +The breezy air; the overhanging heaven,<br /> +He loathed: he loathed them all. When spring aroused<br /> +The amorous songsters of the copse and field<br /> +To seasonable joy, their music mocked<br /> +His sadness with its echoes, babbling tales<br /> +Of what had been: and he, in bitterness,<br /> +<!-- page 150--><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>Resolved +to quit a place where every turn<br /> +Stood like a foe, whose settled leering eye<br /> +In silence gloared with hope to mark his fall;<br /> +He left our country. Far, in Eastern climes,<br /> +His nation serving well, he fought and died:<br /> +And never had a nobler man upheld<br /> +The majesty of England’s worth and name.</p> +<p> Long toil-devoted years have gloomed and shone<br /> +Since these events closed up my doors of life.<br /> +Partly from choice, and part necessity,<br /> +With constancy have I sustained and urged<br /> +The work it was my duty to advance.<br /> +For, when my vision cleared again, I looked<br /> +And saw how mean a thing was man, who used<br /> +The produce of his fellows’ energies<br /> +And gave back nothing.</p> +<p> Then my spirit +saw<br /> +This Island race two thousand years ago<br /> +In simple savagery, controlled by priests<br /> +<!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 151</span>More +fell and bloody than the wolves that howled<br /> +At midnight round their monstrous altar-stones,<br /> +Scenting the sacrificial human blood.<br /> +Saw girt with legions lynx-eyed Cæsar come<br /> +To taste of Briton’s valour. When appeared<br /> +Legions succeeding legions, and the swarms<br /> +Marshalled by skilful discipline had fallen<br /> +To tributaries of all-conquering Rome.<br /> +Saw when Rome’s grip, through fierce luxurious guilt,<br /> +Could hold no longer; and with tattered plume<br /> +Her eagles left her slaves to stem or tide<br /> +The hungry Pict incursions as they could.<br /> +Next when a burly genial race here raised<br /> +The White Horse Standard: men who wrought the soil<br /> +Till yellow corn, responsive, sunned the plains.<br /> +When, lured by booty, Ravens from the North<br /> +Bent hitherward: stiffly the contest tugged<br /> +Long years; till both the wearied champions joined<br /> +<!-- page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>Their +hands, as common home to share the Isle.<br /> +With peace the land grew fat; and wholesome bonds<br /> +Of nobles to their kings, and serfs to them,<br /> +Fell slackened or distorted to misrule;<br /> +When Norman William, hard as rocks and fierce<br /> +As fire, with charge of mailèd horse and showers<br /> +Of steel, won England. Her rough sons he drilled<br /> +Grimly: by stern command and strength of sword<br /> +He forced obedience where he fixed a law.<br /> +For ages long against men’s stubborn minds,<br /> +With give and take, the bold Plantagenets<br /> +Kept up the drill. At length the race, now grown<br /> +By constant wrestle into thews of power,<br /> +Moved calm with strength beneath the Tudor’s sway.<br /> +And then a Northern Stuart wore their crown,<br /> +Whose son, unmindful he was over men<br /> +Truth-lovers, lied to them and lost his head;<br /> +For Puritans held no respect for lies.<br /> +<!-- page 153--><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>Next +flared Charles Satyr’s saturnalia<br /> +Of Lely Nymphs, who panting sang “More gold;<br /> +We yield our beauties freely; gold, more gold.”<br /> +Hapless explosions, folly, frenzied plots;<br /> +Till well coerced by Lowland William’s craft.<br /> +Then plans that led to nought, or worse, enforced<br /> +By Marlborough’s cannon thundering over-seas.<br /> +Then through the Guelphic line; our race now grows<br /> +To that great power which is to sway the world.</p> +<p> Down from those human shambles, wolf-belapt,<br /> +To when, in pardonably grand excess<br /> +Of pity, through our people’s will was bought<br /> +Free indolence for Isles of Western slaves:<br /> +And now, when thousands blandly would deny<br /> +The proven murderer his rope, the thief<br /> +Due chastisement; and when a General<br /> +May blunder troops to death, yea, and receive<br /> +His Senate’s vote of thanks and all made smooth;<br /> +And when, as much from universal trust<br /> +<!-- page 154--><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>In +other states’ goodwill as from the pinch<br /> +Of blinking parsimony, we our fleets<br /> +Let rot, and regiments shrink to skeletons.—<br /> +From those fell rights to such urbanity<br /> +The march indeed is long; tho’ kindly freaks<br /> +May sometimes clamour Justice from her throne;<br /> +Yet gentleness is still a noble gain,<br /> +And we will trust such freaks are nobly meant.</p> +<p> To touch the power we hold, what work has been<br /> +Of vigorous brawn, and keen contriving brains!<br /> +Stout men with mighty battle in their limbs;<br /> +Thinkers, whose cunning struck beyond the strength<br /> +Of hosts; priests sworn to God, whose daily lives<br /> +Preached gospel purity and kindliness;<br /> +Wise chroniclers, whose patience garnered facts<br /> +For present want and food for coming time;<br /> +And dames who made their homes a paradise,<br /> +And kept their husbands great;—have greatly given<br /> +<!-- page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>The +light and choicest substance of their lives<br /> +For generations mingling each with each,<br /> +Wave multitudinously urging wave,<br /> +Toward the one great broadening flow of things,<br /> +Then passed into the gloom that swallows all.</p> +<p> Could I dwell here in our proud Island Home,<br /> +Preserved by countless victories; made strong<br /> +By kings and kingly councillors; enriched<br /> +By artisans, whose skill surpassed all men’s;<br /> +And by such wondrous song immortalised<br /> +It glorifies mankind: could I dwell here;<br /> +Here feed on this accumulated wealth,<br /> +Like senseless swine on acorns of the wood,<br /> +And own no wish to render thanks in kind?<br /> +Surely there could be found some waste wild flower<br /> +To yield one honey-drop that I might drain<br /> +To swell the general hive!</p> +<p> At last resolved<br /> +Out to its utmost spray my force should strive,<br /> +<!-- page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>And +bring to fruit its yet unopened buds,<br /> +I, craving gracious aid of Heaven, straightway<br /> +Began the work which shall be mine till death.<br /> +If it be granted me that I disroot<br /> +Some evil weeds; or plant a seed, which time<br /> +Shall nourish to a tree of pleasant shade,<br /> +To wearied limbs a boon, and fair to view;<br /> +I then shall know the Hand that struck me down<br /> +Has been my guide into the paths of truth.</p> +<p> And She, my lost adored One, where is She?<br /> +Where has She been throughout these dragging years<br /> +Of labour?</p> +<p> She has been my light of life!<br /> +The lustrous dawn and radiance of the day<br /> +At noon: and She has burned the colours in<br /> +To richer depth across the sun at setting:<br /> +And my tired lids She closes: then, in dreams,<br /> +Descends a shaft of glory barred with stairs<br /> +<!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 157</span>And +leads my spirit up where I behold<br /> +My dear ones lost. And thus through sleep, not death,<br /> +Remote from earthly cares and vexing jars,<br /> +I taste the stillness of the life to come.</p> +<p>What time his scythe in misty summer morns<br /> +With cheery ring the mower whets; and kine<br /> +Move slowly, breathing sweetness, toward the pail<br /> +Their milking-maid is jingling, as she calls<br /> +“Hi Strawberry and Blossom, hither Cows;”<br /> +While slung against the upland with his team<br /> +The ploughman dimly like a phantom glides:<br /> +What time that noisy spot of life, the lark,<br /> +Climbs, shrill with ecstasy, the trembling air;<br /> +And “Cuckoo, Cuckoo,” baffling whence it comes,<br /> +Shouts the blithe egotist who cries himself;<br /> +And every hedge and coppice sings: What time<br /> +The lover, restless, through his waking dream,<br /> +Nigh wins the hoped-for great unknown delight,<br /> +Which never comes to flower, maybe; elsewhere,<br /> +<!-- page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 158</span>The +worshipped Maid, a folded rose o’er-rosed<br /> +By rosy dawn, asleep lies breathing smiles:<br /> +Then ofttime through the emptied London streets,<br /> +When every house is closed and spectral still,<br /> +And, save the sparrow chirping from the tower<br /> +Where tolls the passing time, all sounds are hushed;<br /> +Then walk I pondering on the ways of fate,<br /> +And file the past before me in review,<br /> +Counting my losses and my treasured gains,<br /> +And feel I lost a glory such as man<br /> +Can never know but once: but how there sprung<br /> +From out the chastening wear of grief, a scope<br /> +Of sobered interest bent on vaster ends<br /> +Than hitherto were mine; and sympathy<br /> +For struggling souls, that each held dear within<br /> +A sacred meaning, known or unrevealed:—<br /> +And these, in their complexities and far<br /> +Relations with the sum of general power<br /> +Which is the living world, now are my gain;<br /> +And grant my spirit from this widened truth<br /> +<!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>A +glimpse of that high duty claimed of all.<br /> + How wildly flares the West about the sun,<br /> +Now fallen low! And as one, nameless, sails,<br /> +Lost deep in witching reverie, along<br /> +A silent river; passing villages<br /> +Busy with toil; flowered banks and shadowy coves,<br /> +And cattle browsing peaceful in the meads;<br /> +Who only wakes to consciousness, when full<br /> +A burst of sunshine from the sinking orb<br /> +Smiting the flood first strikes his dazzled sight;—<br /> +So to the present hour am I recalled<br /> +By yon red sun-light flaming up the spire,<br /> +And vane that sparkles in the warm blue heaven<br /> +And that too-well-remembered tolling bell.</p> +<p> Now on the broad mysterious ocean leans<br /> +The sailor o’er his vessel’s side, and feels<br /> +The buzzing joys of home; wondering if fate<br /> +Will bear him on to end his being there.<br /> +Now pleased the housewife down the path descries<br /> +Her husband’s footsteps hitherward; his meal<br /> +<!-- page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>Prepared, +the children each made tidy; she<br /> +With smiling comfort means to soothe her man,<br /> +By labour wearied, through the evening hours.<br /> +They whirl their life web, humming like a wheel,<br /> +These airy insects. Birds have ceased to sing,<br /> +But twitter faintly, settling to their rest;<br /> +And not a rook’s caw rends the placid air.<br /> +I must begone; but ere I go, will kneel<br /> +To kiss this ivy—modest earthly type,<br /> +That would with constant verdure grace her name,<br /> +As I enshroud her memory with my love!<br /> +For She has been the blessing that has nerved<br /> +My strength in failing hours of blackest night,<br /> +When doubts oppress and fears distract; and when<br /> +Gigantic Evil’s hoofs are crushing good,<br /> +And pity burns in terror; while, appalled,<br /> +Blanched Justice shrinks aloof; and not a voice,<br /> +The smallest, dares uplift itself against<br /> +The dripping blood-red horror which pollutes<br /> +With death and danger, heaven and earth and sea;<br /> +When men’s belief grows wild, seeing alone<br /> +<!-- page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 161</span>The +dreadful black abominable sin,<br /> +Forgetful that the light still shines beyond;<br /> +And doubting last the very truth of God,<br /> +They hate their fellow creatures and themselves;<br /> +Groaning beneath a Despot, who thinks less<br /> +Of precious human blood, than shipwrights count<br /> +Of water in the dock, so many feet<br /> +Will bear so many tons, if it but aid<br /> +One little step his brutalising aims,<br /> +Who as an armed thief sacks his people’s wealth.<br /> +Then shines my Love’s star-brightness thro’ the gloom;<br /> +And comes, as comes a glorious Conqueror<br /> +Returning from that Despot’s overthrow,<br /> +His brow yet flashed and pale with victory:<br /> +Whose prowess long withstood the charging shocks<br /> +Of hosts that swarmed; who, baffling with his skill<br /> +Their cunning combinations, in good time<br /> +Closed his own force and wrought them utmost woe;<br /> +Smashed the huge liners of the hostile fleet,<br /> +<!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>Their +swiftest frigates sank to watery hell:<br /> +Others he scared like fowls; and trailed the rest<br /> +In foamed victorious wake, a captured prize,<br /> +Where thronged his people stand in proud acclaim<br /> +Of “Welcome, Welcome, Welcome! To our hearts<br /> +O Saviour of thy country! to our hearts<br /> +O Father of thy people! welcome back!”<br /> +And shout in exultation his dear name;<br /> +Who moves through storms of music, and beholds<br /> +Gay seas of faces tossed with happiness,<br /> +And lit through rapture into wondering awe.<br /> +And as that grateful multitude forgets<br /> +Whatever wrong he may have done, do I<br /> +My scathing sorrow, and embrace the good.</p> +<p> And when, in after years, that honoured One<br /> +Returns at last unto his native land,<br /> +From having wrought his last great victory,<br /> +A solemn corpse; in state his people close,<br /> +Solemnly to do honour to the dead,<br /> +And stand in silence, mid the mournful sway<br /> +<!-- page 163--><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>Of +martial music wailing he is gone<br /> +Who saved them from the shackles they abhorred;<br /> +And in all reverence, with tenderest hands,<br /> +And tearful eyes, and hearts that burn and throb,<br /> +They lower their consecrated Hero down,<br /> +Down sinking slowly to his lasting rest:<br /> +Whose glory rises to a settled star<br /> +Lighting the land he loved for evermore.<br /> +So comes my love to me: its glorious light<br /> +Yet hovers sacredly, and guides me on<br /> +To grander prospects, and more noble use<br /> +Of powers entrusted me. Henceforth my soul<br /> +Will never lack a spot whither to flee,<br /> +When crowding evils war to shake my faith<br /> +In righteousness: for thinking of Her life<br /> +Made up of gracious act and sweet regard,<br /> +Compassionately tender; and enshrined<br /> +In such a form, that oft to my fond eyes<br /> +She seemed divine, I scarcely can withhold<br /> +My wonder Heaven could spare Her to a world<br /> +So stained as ours. And now, whatever come<br /> +<!-- page 164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 164</span>Of +wrong and bitterness to break my strength;<br /> +Whatever darkness may be mine to know;<br /> +A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven—<br /> +I have believed in worth; and do believe.</p> +<h4><!-- page 165--><a name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>II. +WORK.</h4> +<p>Sweet is the moisture of the trellis-rose<br /> +Dripping in music down through glistening leaves;<br /> +And sweeter still its fragrance that we breathe<br /> +On throwing wide our lattice to the morn.<br /> +Sweet to see thrushes bright-eyed speckle-bosomed,<br /> +Search dew-grey lawns with keen inspective glance;<br /> +And rabbits nimbly nibble tender grasses,<br /> +Or pause when startled at each other’s shade.<br /> +And when the orchard boughs bend low with fruit,<br /> +With joy we watch the mounded harvest wains<br /> +Glide amid singing hedgerows smoothly by.<br /> +’Tis fair to watch hung pale in milky azure<br /> +Mist slowly closing into wandering cloud<br /> +Driven by the clean and light elastic wind;<br /> +And through that lone harmonious sunshine hum<br /> +<!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>Of +unseen life mark how the floating seeds<br /> +Pass like flown fancies out beyond regard.</p> +<p> But sweeter than all roses, sights of birds,<br /> +Richer than fruit, more than whole lands of corn,<br /> +Fairer than glories of the brightest day,<br /> +Dearer than any old familiar sound<br /> +Of childhood hours, than every glittering joy<br /> +Thrown from the teeming fountain of the earth,<br /> +Is our impulsive answer to the call<br /> +Of Duty.</p> +<p> They who would be something more<br /> +Than they who feast, and laugh and die, will hear<br /> +The voice of Duty, as the note of war,<br /> +Nerving their spirits to great enterprise,<br /> +And knitting every sinew for the charge.<br /> +It makes them quit a happy silvan life<br /> +For contest in the roaring capital.<br /> +And in its ever-widening roar stand firm<br /> +And fixed amid the thunder, foot to foot<br /> +With opposition, smiting for the truth.<br /> +<!-- page 167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>To +such the rage of battle charms beyond<br /> +The heaviest ocean-plunges dashed on cliffs,<br /> +The tempest’s fury on the grinding woods,<br /> +Or elemental crashing in the heavens:<br /> +Beyond a lover’s gladness when he feels<br /> +His maiden’s bosom throbbing tremulously,<br /> +Beyond a father’s when he feels in hand<br /> +The rounded warmth of little firstborn’s limb,<br /> +Or in beholding him grown tall and strong:<br /> +And their delight will never wane, but wax<br /> +In greatness with the roll of time, and burn<br /> +More brightly fed with noble deeds. For souls<br /> +Obedient to divine impulse, who urge<br /> +Their force in steadfastness until the rocks<br /> +Be hewn of their obstruction, till the swamp’s<br /> +Insatiability be choked and bound<br /> +A hardened road for traffic and disport,<br /> +Tall giant arches stride across the flood,<br /> +Till tortured earth release its mysteries<br /> +Which straight become slaves pliant unto man,<br /> +Till labours at the desk at length result<br /> +<!-- page 168--><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>In +law: who pondering on the stars proclaim<br /> +Their size and distance and pursue their course;<br /> +Who work whatever will give greater power<br /> +Or profit man with leisure to observe<br /> +The wondrous heavens and loveliness of earth;<br /> +Who will instruct him in the truth whereby<br /> +He learns to reverence more his fellow man;<br /> +Who point his spirit to the worshipping<br /> +Imperishable things, from which he comes<br /> +To scorn the fluttering vanities of wealth<br /> +As poisoned sweets and baubles should they dim<br /> +His eyes one instant to that awful light<br /> +Wherein he moves; who do and who have done<br /> +All that has ever aided man to free<br /> +Himself, imperfectly, from grosser self<br /> +And made his seeing pure:—such souls sublime<br /> +Will never want for blessed joy in work,<br /> +Working for Duty which can never die.</p> +<p> Men may seem playthings of ironic fate:<br /> +One stoutly shod paces a velvet sward;<br /> +<!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 169</span>And +one is forced with naked feet to climb<br /> +Sharp slaty ways alive with scorpions,<br /> +While wolfish hunger strains to catch his throat;<br /> +One lingers o’er his purple draught and laughs,<br /> +One shuddering tastes his bitter cup and groans;<br /> +But there is hope for all. Though not for all<br /> +To sail through sunny ripples to the end,<br /> +Chatting of shipwrecks as pathetic tales;<br /> +All are not born to nurse the dainty pangs<br /> +That herald love’s completion, and behold<br /> +Their darlings flourish in the tempered air<br /> +Of comfort till themselves become the springs<br /> +Of a yet milder race: all are not born<br /> +To touch majestic eminence and shine<br /> +Directing spirits in their nations’ sight<br /> +And radiate unformed posterity:<br /> +But through transcendent mercy all are born<br /> +To enter on a nobler heritage<br /> +Than these, if each but wills to choose aright<br /> +In serving Duty, man’s prerogative:<br /> +Which is far pleasanter than paths of flowers,<br /> +<!-- page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>Than +warmest clustering of household joys,<br /> +And prouder than the proudest shouts of fame<br /> +That follow action not in conscience wrought.</p> +<p> Fair Duty, most unlike the blight of death,<br /> +Whose dismal presence levels men to ruin,<br /> +Lifts up his nature into rarer life.<br /> +Hers is a broad estate open to poor<br /> +And rich alike: here rudest peasant may<br /> +Move as their equal with baronial lords,<br /> +And those who serve be great as those who rule:<br /> +Here a smirched artisan who merely bolts<br /> +The plates of iron fortress, breathes the pride<br /> +Of that trained chieftain who commands its guns;<br /> +And one that points or fires a single piece<br /> +Claims honour with the mind who planned the war.</p> +<p> Fair Duty, hard and perilous to serve,<br /> +Exacts devotion that is absolute,<br /> +Ere she reveal the heaven of her smile;<br /> +<!-- page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 171</span>And +gnaws with misery the traitor slave<br /> +Who having known her countenance and moved<br /> +At her behest relapses into sloth,<br /> +Or drudges serf to his own base desires:—<br /> +Sworn knight, and armed with mail and sword of proof,<br /> +But coaxing brutish ignorance with praise,<br /> +And with the wasted hearts of honest men<br /> +Gorging the monster he went forth to slay.<br /> +But whoso faithfully reveres her law<br /> +As primal, and of every want supreme,<br /> +Making edged danger discipline his strength,<br /> +That changes hindrance into past delight,<br /> +Fair Duty dowers with her celestial love,<br /> +From which the mystic blessing glory grows:<br /> +And glory born of Duty is a crown<br /> +Of light.</p> +<p> And all thus crowned illume their +work<br /> +In splendour that no earthly eye may pierce,<br /> +And know that every seed they set, and stone<br /> +<!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>They +fix, and truth they reach, unite to found<br /> +A well-planned city in a governed land<br /> +That rising babes high a Temple built<br /> +Firm in its centre to the praise of God.<br /> +And each beholds his labours glorified,<br /> +Alike the toiler at the desk, a king<br /> +Upon his throne, or builder of the bridge:<br /> +The desk in lustre shines a kingly throne,<br /> +The throne diffuses radiance like a sun,<br /> +The bridge spans death—a pathway to the stars.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">March, </span>1865.</p> +<h2><!-- page 175--><a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>NELLY +DALE.</h2> +<p>Ah, Nelly Dale, nigh fifty years<br /> +Since you and I set out together,<br /> +Joyful both, as the summer weather,<br /> +That swarmed our pathway to the meres<br /> +So rich with blossom, and opulent<br /> +Successive honeysuckle scent,<br /> +It smiled a golden garden, gay<br /> +With flutter of insects all the way!</p> +<p>The kine were white and smooth as silk<br /> +At Flowerdew’s, where we went for milk<br /> +With jug and can. The can you bore<br /> +Jingled and tumbled when you tore<br /> +Your new frock striped with lilac, while<br /> +Crossing that high-built awkward stile.</p> +<p><!-- page 176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>Leaving +our cottage gates at noon,<br /> +Adown the dusty hill we soon<br /> +Turned in a water-alley, dry<br /> +As our discourse; for we were shy,<br /> +Speaking not till the double ranks<br /> +Of willows on their shadowed banks<br /> +Had closed us from the road, and we<br /> +Were all we saw and cared to see.</p> +<p>As if let out from school we ran,<br /> +Until we settled stride for stride<br /> +To even walking, side by side;<br /> +And tho’ to keep apart we tried,<br /> +The jug kept clinking against the can!<br /> + Once pausing in an upper path<br /> +That hemmed great pasture ribbed with math,<br /> +We saw the prospect openly<br /> +Melt in remote transparent sky;<br /> +Some fancy kindled, and I began<br /> +To whistle “Tom the Piper’s Son,”<br /> +Wondering whether, when grown a man,<br /> +<!-- page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 177</span>I +should remain to plod, or plan,<br /> +As others about had always done,<br /> +Or to some wondrous country stray,<br /> +Over the hills and far away!<br /> + But turning to your comely face,<br /> +The opened flower of native grace<br /> +That casts a charm on homely ways,<br /> +Your mother’s boast, her constant praise;<br /> +Contented here, I hoped I might<br /> +Be never from my darling’s sight.</p> +<p>Ah, me, our young delight to roam<br /> +Along that lane so far from home!<br /> +Laughter, and chatter of this or that;<br /> +Ripening strawberries, mice and cat;<br /> +The birthday near; the birthday treat,<br /> +With something extra good to eat,<br /> +And currant, cowslip, elder wine,<br /> +As real lords and ladies dine!</p> +<p>Equal delight our silence next;<br /> +Making-believe that you are vext,<br /> +<!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 178</span>When +swooping round to kiss you I<br /> +Tumble your bonnet all awry,<br /> +And promptly you the strings untie<br /> +To set it duly straight again;<br /> +How smartly twinkle ribands twain<br /> +To bows, turned sidewise in disdain,<br /> +Till by your nimble fingers fixed<br /> +They settle amicably mixed!<br /> + Moments of mutual mute surprise<br /> +Made converse of our glancing eyes,<br /> +As we went onward, all things seeming<br /> +Strange, and rich, and fair, while dreaming<br /> +Transient glimpses of what alone<br /> +Is ever by great-winged angels known.</p> +<p>We knew not whether you or I<br /> +First saw the splendid butterfly<br /> +Trembling about us as we turned<br /> +To watch how blue and crimson burned<br /> +In flashes ’twixt those blushing wings!<br /> +Nelly, I see you watch the lark<br /> +<!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 179</span>That +fluttering high, aspiring sings;<br /> +We both watch till our sight grows dark,<br /> +And wonder whither he is fled<br /> +In sapphire ether overhead.<br /> +Tho’ vanished, still his rapture rings<br /> +And thrills our bosoms, marching slow<br /> +Our winding way; when brilliant, lo<br /> +From somewhere starting, re-appears<br /> +Our friendly butterfly, and nears<br /> +A spider-web, in holly spun<br /> +With rainbow hues that net the sun,<br /> +Making coy circles ere he alight<br /> +Entangled in the toil of death!<br /> +Forward I spring, without my breath,<br /> +To see the fiend, high-elbowed, whirl<br /> +Around those limbs and wings, and twirl<br /> +His thread to thwart the chance of flight.<br /> +Fate on a single instant hangs,<br /> +And ready the demon’s eager fangs<br /> +To penetrate that sylphic breast!<br /> +Nipping the wing-tips gently I<br /> +<!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>Flirt +him from danger suddenly;<br /> +Strike with my cap a rapid blow,<br /> +Dashing the enemy down below<br /> +Thro’ grass crushed safely into dust.<br /> +There shivering on my stretched forefinger<br /> +A little while his terrors linger,<br /> +Doubting if yet his wings to trust,<br /> +Ere, with a bolder flap or two,<br /> +He flutters into airy blue.</p> +<p>Could any mortal boy resist,<br /> +When heavenward, in a rosy pout<br /> +Your lips you offered to be kissed;<br /> +Fresh as carnations breaking out<br /> +Of dewy sheaths, on summer dawns<br /> +Yet pale upon the misty lawns!<br /> + We pass from shadowy splendour soon<br /> +To face the blazoned afternoon,<br /> +Where wide around the basking sun<br /> +Lies on the meadow fast asleep.<br /> +Near random bushes, one by one,<br /> +<!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>Nestled +around a pond, the sheep<br /> +Are scattered and doze in graceful shade;<br /> +And hazed cornfields beyond the glade,<br /> +Undulating and dazzling sight,<br /> +Seem quivering for predestined flight<br /> +To worlds of unrevealed delight.<br /> +In lustrous sheen, their stately looks<br /> +Sedate as parsons reading books,<br /> +Flock grey-billed, see-saw-gaited rooks<br /> +Strutting; or when they wings assume<br /> +Pluck the warm air with fingered plume,<br /> +Labouring, anxious if weight and size<br /> +Make flight most hazardous or wise!<br /> + Nelly we sauntered on and on<br /> +By hedgerows, brightly overhung<br /> +And sprinkled thick with snowy showers<br /> +Of woodbine stars; where bindweed flowers<br /> +Ample and moon-white nobly shone,<br /> +And over green abysses slung,<br /> +Mid honey-haunted sound of bees,<br /> +Swayed lightly to the scented breeze.</p> +<p> <!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 182</span>In +passing starwort’s silvery gems,<br /> +By maple’s warm fawn-tinted stems,<br /> +Caprices that gnarled the oak and thorn,<br /> +A sudden scream of rageful scorn<br /> +Startles us from the hedgerow nigh;<br /> +Whence two disturbed fierce blackbirds fly<br /> +Uttering threats of vengeance dire!<br /> +While we, who lit this angry fire,<br /> +Are wondering such discordant throats<br /> +Can tune those soft melodious notes<br /> +The fondest lover’s listening ear,<br /> +At even, turns entranced to hear!</p> +<p>But if I sang of every sight<br /> +That afternoon which gave delight,<br /> +Those treasures would my numbers throng<br /> +Beyond the compass of my song;<br /> +Therefore, Nelly, to be precise,<br /> +We bought the milk, and paid the price<br /> +Charged in that rural paradise.<br /> +The rolls of butter, the jars of cream,<br /> +<!-- page 183--><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>Churn, +and cleanly pans, now seem,<br /> +Thro’ fifty years of vanished time,<br /> +The memories of a nursery rhyme;<br /> +Or story, like The “Babes in the Wood,”<br /> +Written for children to make them good.</p> +<p>Homeward we went in soberer mood;<br /> +Haply the weight we had to carry,<br /> +By stile and gate oft made us tarry<br /> +To change our hands, and ease the weight<br /> +By making both co-operate.<br /> +At length we knew the hour grew late,<br /> +Because we saw our shadows rise,<br /> +Mocking our motions, thrice our size;<br /> +And keeping faithful phantom pace,<br /> +Tempting us to an elfin race<br /> +For fairy treasure; all in play!<br /> +For which, whatever they might say,<br /> +We knew our lives would have to pay!<br /> + Both breaking into prattle showed<br /> +How pleased we trod the dusty road<br /> +<!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>Once +more; and rested where the rill<br /> +Sings issuing, halfway up the hill;<br /> +Where maids and wives their pitchers bring<br /> +To fill, and gossip at the spring.<br /> + To gossip ourselves we durst not stop,<br /> +As we had yet to reach the top<br /> +Where, starting from before the moon,<br /> +Our church spire quickened, rose, and danced<br /> +Higher and higher as we advanced,<br /> +And on a sudden ceased, as soon<br /> +As we were on the level; then,<br /> +There your mother stood at the gate<br /> +Impatient we were out so late;<br /> +Inquiring how, and why, and when;<br /> +She thought we had been drowned, and lost,<br /> +And by some savage mad bull tossed;<br /> +So long had she been looking out!<br /> +Whatever had we been about?<br /> + Altho’ we saw so much that day,<br /> +But little then had we to say,<br /> +And told her a bewildered tale<br /> +<!-- page 185--><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>Of +garment torn by splintered rail;<br /> +Of spiders, blackbirds, butterflies;<br /> +Of rooks so near that looked so wise!<br /> +Of ghostly shadows, some of the way,<br /> +That had been tempting us to play,<br /> +Tho’ sure they must have known we should<br /> +Be making all the haste we could!<br /> +The gentle scolding given and past,<br /> +We bade each other good-night at last<br /> +When floating in the stillness by<br /> +Came sounds like “late,” and “supper,” and “bed;”<br /> +And brighter through a deepening sky<br /> +A million stars shone o’er my head,<br /> +And bats flew fast and silently.</p> +<p>When memory wings her way to you,<br /> +I nurse my faith to think it true<br /> +For one day, Nelly, you were mine!<br /> +Ah, Dearest, had that day divine<br /> +Made us two one for good and all!<br /> +<!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>The +nursery words I now recall,<br /> +Of Tom the Piper’s Son’s one tune,<br /> +Mused over in that day of June,<br /> +Have proved the prelude to my fate!<br /> +We were not fashioned to translate<br /> +Each other’s will as man and wife:<br /> +And tho’ I was not broken-hearted,<br /> +As Burns when from his Mary parted,<br /> +And fled the fragrance of his life;<br /> +Yet are you near and dear to me!<br /> +For on the bridge below the hill<br /> +I see you smile as sweetly still;<br /> +And in your clear wide-opened eyes<br /> +The spacious wonder of the skies.<br /> +While every thoughtful dainty grace<br /> +Rests well contented in your face,<br /> +All fascinations of the rose,<br /> +Uniting in your presence close.<br /> +Indeed, from glowing hair to feet,<br /> +So lightly poised, shaped so complete<br /> +You seem a being ’twixt a flower,<br /> +<!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 187</span>The +glory of a shining hour,<br /> +And one ordained to satisfy<br /> +The claims of immortality.</p> +<p>Your beauty, like a queen’s or king’s<br /> +Good word, gives price to common things:<br /> +That can your ruddy fingers hold<br /> +Hangs lovelier there than purest gold;<br /> +And, as the poor, grown rich by chance,<br /> +Run raptured in extravagance,<br /> +My fancy riots in the fields’<br /> +Increasing wealth its charter yields:<br /> +And at your lintel, by the bower<br /> +Of vine leaves screening noonday heat;<br /> +The grapes, that hang there small and sour,<br /> +Are soft in bloom and more than sweet!</p> +<p> Beholding kittens as they play,<br /> +Black, tortoise, white, or silver grey;<br /> +Or ducklings on the water glide,<br /> +Yellow and soft, and artless eyed:<br /> +<!-- page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 188</span>Or +neatly-shapen chicks astray,<br /> +Pecking incessantly on their way;<br /> +Each such a trim completed creature,<br /> +In perfect movement, hue, and feature:<br /> +A foolish sadness makes me sigh<br /> +They lack immutability.<br /> +But you, my Nelly, are ever young.<br /> +Fresh and happy you dwell among<br /> +The brightest flowers, and flourish where<br /> +Meadows are ever fresh and fair.<br /> +As you were then I see you now,<br /> +Standing beneath an apple bough;<br /> +Your face amid its blossoms, bright<br /> +With rosy laughter and delight,<br /> +You seem a blossom the partial sun<br /> +Has chosen to make a larger one.</p> +<p>What may your pilgrimage have been,<br /> +Since both of us lost our Eden days,<br /> +I never rashly tried to glean;<br /> +And know not if your childhood ways<br /> +<!-- page 189--><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 189</span>Were +trodden by your maiden feet<br /> +When, flushed and shy with hope and fear,<br /> +You went your loitering swain to meet<br /> +And listen to sounds you loved to hear!<br /> +But if sometimes your heart was fain<br /> +Along our honeysuckle lane<br /> +Again to roam, in gracious flight<br /> +Your memory would have found delight<br /> +In wandering there a child again!<br /> + And if a matron you became,<br /> +With a matron’s worries and daily strife;<br /> +The pain and sorrow, the hurt and blame<br /> +Mixed with pleasure, of being a wife,<br /> +I know not. But of this am sure,<br /> +That if with daughters you were blessed,<br /> +They found your bright example lure,<br /> +Thro’ ways by wisdom proven best,<br /> +And sympathetic, generous trust<br /> +To kindly conduct more than just.<br /> + If old experience yet holds true,<br /> +And by a generation’s lapse<br /> +<!-- page 190--><a name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>Your +daughter’s child resembles you,<br /> +Then by that happy law perhaps<br /> +Another Nelly may be seen<br /> +To grace some other village green;<br /> +As native there as morning dew;<br /> +Or larks aloft, when lost to view<br /> +They lift us thro’ the trembling blue<br /> +To soar with them in ecstasy;<br /> +Or primroses, whose welcome faces<br /> +From sunny banks and shady places,<br /> +Tenderly glimmer in pallid gold<br /> +Caught as early morning broke,<br /> +When, dreaming daylight they awoke<br /> +Enamoured from the moistened mold.<br /> +And if a Nelly, tho’ changed in name,<br /> +Her fair endowments will the same<br /> +Point every grace that charmed before<br /> +Thro’ unrenowned ancestresses,<br /> +Then still there beams a joy that blesses<br /> +The traveller by your cottage door;<br /> +Who, pleased in after years to trace<br /> +<!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 191</span>Remembrance +of your playful face,<br /> +May linger on your presence while<br /> +Before him still you turn to smile.</p> +<p><!-- page 192--><a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>NOTE.</p> +<p>The two portions of “My Beautiful Lady,” entitled “My +Beautiful Lady,” and “My Lady in Death,” were written +in 1849, and published on the 1st of January, 1850, in “The Germ,” +a magazine which ran to only four numbers. “Dawn,” +and “My Lady’s Glory,” were written about the same +time; but all the other poems were written between 1857 and 1861. +The first complete edition appeared in 1863; the second in 1864; and +the third in 1866.</p> +<p>“Nelly Dale” was written in 1886.</p> +<p>T. W.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. NELLY DALE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 17574-h.htm or 17574-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/5/7/17574 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale + + +Author: Thomas Woolner + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: January 22, 2006 [eBook #17574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. NELLY DALE*** + + + + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition, David Price, email +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. +NELLY DALE. + + +BY +THOMAS WOOLNER, R.A. + +CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: +_LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_. +1887. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + + "A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven-- + I have believed in worth; and do believe." + +So runs Mr. Woolner's song, as it proceeds to show the issue of a noble +earthly love, one with the heavenly. Its issue is the life of high +endeavour, wherein + + "They who would be something more + Than they who feast, and laugh and die, will hear + The voice of Duty, as the note of war, + Nerving their spirits to great enterprise, + And knitting every sinew for the charge." + +This Library is based on a belief in worth, and on a knowledge of the +wide desire among men now to read books that are books, which "do," as +Milton says, "contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that +soul whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the +purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them." +When, therefore, as now happens for the second time, a man of genius who +has written with a hope to lift the hearts and minds of men by adding one +more true book to the treasures of the land, honours us by such +recognition of our aim, and fellow-feeling with it, that he gives up a +part of his exclusive right to his own work, and offers to make it freely +current with the other volumes of our series,--we take the gift, if we +may dare to say so, in the spirit of the giver, and are the happier for +such evidence that we are not working in vain. + +Such evidence comes in other forms: as in letters from remote readers in +lonely settlements, from the far West, from sheep-farms in Australia, +from farthest India, from places to which these little volumes make their +way as pioneers; being almost the first real books that have there been +seen. To send a true voice over, for delight and support of earnest +workers who open their hearts wide to a good book in a way that we can +hardly understand,--we who live wastefully in the midst of plenty, and +are apt sometimes to leave to feed on the fair mountain and batten on the +moor,--is worth the while of any man of genius who puts his soul into his +work, as Mr. Woolner does. + +Books in the "National Library" that come like those of Mr. Patmore and +Mr. Woolner are here as friends and companions. If they were not +esteemed highly they would not be here. Beyond that implied opinion +there is nothing to be said. He would be an ill-bred host who criticised +his guest, or spoke loud praise of him before his face. Nor does a well- +known man of our own day need personal introduction. It is only said, in +consideration that this book will be read by many who cannot know what is +known to those who have access to the works of artists, that Mr. Thomas +Woolner is a Royal Academician, and one of the foremost sculptors of our +day. For a couple of years, from 1877 to 1879, he was Professor of +Sculpture at the Royal Academy. A colossal statue by him in bronze of +Captain Cook was designed for a site overlooking Sydney Harbour. A +poet's mind has given life to his work on the marble, and when he was an +associate with Mr. Millais, Mr. Holman Hunt, and others, who, in 1850, +were endeavouring to bring truth and beauty of expression into art, by +the bold reaction against tame and insincere conventions for which Mr. +Ruskin pleaded and which the time required, Mr. Woolner joined in the +production by them of a magazine called "The Germ," to which some of the +verses in this volume were contributed. + +There is no more to say; but through another page let Wordsworth speak +the praise of Books: + + Yet is it just + That here, in memory of all books which lay + Their sure foundations in the heart of man, + Whether by native prose, or numerous verse. + That in the name of all inspired souls-- + From Homer the great thunderer, from the voice + That roars along the bed of Jewish song, + And that more varied and elaborate, + Those trumpet tones of harmony that shake + Our shores in England--from those loftiest notes, + Down to the low and wren-like warblings, made + For cottagers and spinners at the wheel + And sunburnt travellers resting their tired limbs + Stretched under wayside hedgerows, ballad tunes + Food for the hungry ears of little ones + And of old men who have survived their joys-- + 'Tis just that in behalf of these, the works, + And of the men that framed them, whether known + Or sleeping nameless in their scattered graves, + That I should here assert their rights, attest + Their honours, and should, once for all, pronounce + Their benediction; speak of them as Powers + For ever to be hallowed; only less, + For what we are and what we may become, + Than Nature's self, which is the breath of God, + Or His pure Word by miracle revealed. + +_Prelude, Book V_. +H. M. + + + + +MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. INTRODUCTION. + + +In some there lies a sorrow too profound +To find a voice or to reveal itself +Throughout the strain of daily toil, or thought, +Or during converse born of souls allied, +As aught men understand. And though mayhap +Their cheeks will thin or droop; and wane their eyes' +Frank lustre; hair may lose its hue, or fall; +And health may slacken low in force; and they +Are older than the warrant of their years; +Yet they to others seem to gild their lives +With cheerfulness, and every duty tend, +As if their aspects told the truth within. + But they are not as others: not for them +The bounding pulse, and ardour of desire, +The rapture and the wonder in things new; +The hope that palpitating enters where +Perfection smiles on universal life; +Nor do they with elastic enterprise +Forecast delight in compassing results; +Nor, having won their ends, fall godlike back +And taste the calm completion of content. +But in a sober chilled grey atmosphere +Work out their lives; more various though they are +Than creatures in the unknown ocean depths, +Yet each in whom this vital grief has root +Is dull to what makes everything of worth. +And though, may be, a shallow bodily joy +Oft tingles through them at the breathing spring, +Or first-heard exultation of the lark; +Still that deep weight draws ever steadily +Their thoughts and passions back to secret woe. +Though, if endowed with light, heroic deeds +May be achieved; and if benignly bent +They may be treasured blessings through their lives; +Yet power and goodness are to them as dreams, +And they heed vaguely, if their waking sight +Be met with slanting storm against the pane, +Or sunshine glittering on the leaves that play +In purest blue of breezy summer morns. + + Whence springs this well of mournfulness profound, +Unfathomable to plummet cast by man? +Alas; for who can tell! Whence comes the wind +Heaving the ocean into maddened arms +That clutch and dash huge vessels on the rocks, +And scatter them, as if compacted slight +As little eggs boys star against a tree +In wanton mischief? Whence, detestable, +To man, who suffers from the monster-jaws, +The power that in the logging crocodiles' +Outrageous bulk puts evil fire of life? +That spouts from mountain-pyramids a flood +Of lava, overwhelming works and men +In burning, fetid ruin?--The power that stings +A city with a pestilence: or turns +The pretty babe, who in his mother's lap +Babbles her back the lavished kiss and laugh, +Through lusts and vassalage to obdurate sin, +Into a knife-armed midnight murderer? + + Our lives are mysteries, and rarely scanned +As we read stories writ by mortal pen. +We can perchance but catch a straying weft +And trace the hinted texture here or there, +Of that stupendous loom weaving our fates. +Two parents, late in life, are haply blessed +With one bright child, a wonder in his years, +For loveliness and genius versatile: +Some common ill destroys him; parents, both, +Until their death, are left but living tombs +That hold the one dead image of their joy. +A man, the flower of honour, who has found +His well-beloved young daughter fled from home, +Fallen from her maidenhood, a nameless thing +Tainting his blood. A youth who throws the strength +Of his whole being into love for one +Answering him honeyed smiles, and leaves his land +For some far country, seeking wealth he hopes +Will grace her daintily with choice delights, +And on returning sees the honeyed smiles +Are sweetening other lips. A husband who +Has found that household curse, a faithless wife. +A thinker whose far-piercing care perceives +His nation goes the road that ends in shame. +A gracious woman whose reserve denies +The power to utter what consumes her heart. +Such instances (and some a loss to know, +Which steadfast reticence will shield from those, +Debased or garrulous, whose hearts corrupt, +But learn the gloomy secrets of their kind +To poison-tip their wit, or grope and grin +With pharisaic laughter at disgrace)-- +Such instances as these demand no guide +To thrid the dismal issues from their source! +But others are there, lying fast concealed, +Dark, hopeless, and unutterably sad, +Which have not been, and never may be known. + + Then we may well call happy one whose grief, +Mixed up with sacred memories of the past, +Can tell to others how the tempest rose, +That struck and left him lonely in the world; +And who, narrating, feels his sorrow soothed, +By that respect which love and sorrow claim. + + It much behoves us all, but chiefly those +Whom fate has favoured with an easy trust, +To keep a bridle upon restless speech +And thought: and not in flagrant haste prejudge +The first presentment as the rounded truth. +For true it is, that rapid thoughts, and freak +Of skimming word, and glance, more frequently +Than either malice, settled hate, or scorn, +Support confusion, and pervert the right; +Set up the weakling in the strong man's place; +And yoke the great one's strength to idleness; +Pour gold into the squanderer's purse, and suck +The wealth, which is a power, from their control +Who would have turned it unto noble use. +And oftentimes a man will strike his friend, +By random verbiage, with sharper pain +Than could a foe, yet scarcely mean him wrong; +For none can strip this complex masquerade +And know who languishes with secret wounds. +They whom the brunt of war has maimed in limb, +Who lean on crutches to sustain their weight, +Are manifest to all; and reverence +For their misfortunes kindly gains them place: +But wounds, sometimes more deep and dangerous, +We may in careless jostle through the crowd, +Gall and oppress, because to us unknown. +Then, howsoever by our needs impelled, +Let us resolve to move in gentleness; +Judge mildly when we doubt; and pause awhile +Before injustice palpably proclaimed +Ere we let fall the judgment stroke: against +Their ignominious craft, who ever wait +To filch another's right, we will maintain +Majestic peace in silence; knowing well +Their craft takes something richer from themselves. +It is but seemly to respect the great; +But never let us fail toward lowly ones; +Respecting more, in that they lack the force +To claim it of the world. For souls there are +Of poor capacities, whose purpose holds, +Throughout their unregarded lives, a worth, +And earnest law of fixed integrity, +That were an honour even unto those +Whose genius marks the boundaries of our race. + + + +PART THE FIRST. + + +LOVE. + + +Love comes divinely, gladdening mortal life, +As sunrise dawns upon the gaze of one +Bewildered in some outland waste, and lost: +Who, lonely faint and shuddering, through the night +Heard savage creatures nigh; and far-off moan +Of tempests on the wind. + + Auroral joy +Flushes the brow of childhood, warms his cheek +To rosier redness at the name of Love; +And earlier thoughts awake in darkness strive; +As unfledged nestlings move their sightless heads +At sound, toward a fair world to them unknown. +Young Hope scales azure mountain heights to gaze, +In Love's first golden and delicious dream. +He sees the earth a maze of tempting paths, +For blissful sauntering mid the crowded flowers +And music of the rills. No ambushed wrongs, +Or thwarting storms there baffle and surprise; +But lingering, man treads long an odorous way; +And at the close, with Love clasped hand in hand, +Sets in proud glory: thence to rise anon +With Love beyond the stars and rest in heaven. + + Man, nerved by Love, can steadily endure +Clash of opposing interests; perplexed web +Of crosses that distracting clog advance: +In thickest storm of contest waxes stronger +At momentary thought of home, of her, +His gracious wife, and bright-faced joys. + + To him +The wrinkled patriarch, who sits and suns +His shrunken form beneath the boughs he climbed +A lissom boy, whence comes that brooding smile, +Whose secret lifts his cheeks, and overflows +His sight with tender dew? What through his frame +Melts languor sweeter than approaching sleep +To one made weary by a hard day's toil? +It is the memory of primal love, +Whose visionary splendour steeped his life +In hues of heaven; and which grown open day, +Revealing perilous falls, his steps confined +Within the pathways to the noblest end. +Now following this dimmed glory, tired, his soul +Haunts ever the mysterious gates of Death; +And waits in patient reverence till his doom +Unfolding them fulfils immortal Love. + + As from some height, on a wild day of cloud, +A wanderer, chilled and worn, perchance beholds +Move toward him through the landscape soaked in gloom +A golden beam of light; creating lakes, +And verdant pasture, farms, and villages; +And touching spires atop to flickering flame; +Disclosing herds of sober feeding kine; +And brightening on its way the woods to song; +As he, that wanderer, brightens when the shaft +Suddenly falls on him. A moment warmed, +He scarcely feels its loveliness before +The light departing leaves his saddened soul +More cold than ere it came. + Thus love once shone +And blessed my life: so vanished into gloom. + + +I. MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. + + +I love My Lady; she is very fair; +Her brow is wan, and bound by simple hair: + Her spirit sits aloof, and high, + But glances from her tender eye + In sweetness droopingly. + +As a young forest while the wind drives through, +My life is stirred when she breaks on my view; + Her beauty grants my will no choice + But silent awe, till she rejoice + My longing with her voice. + +Her warbling voice, though ever low and mild, +Oft makes me feel as strong wine would a child: + And though her hand be airy light + Of touch, it moves me with its might, + As would a sudden fright. + +A hawk high poised in air, whose nerved wing-tips +Tremble with might suppressed, before he dips, + In vigilance, hangs less intense + Than I, when her voice holds my sense + Contented in suspense. + +Her mention of a thing, august or poor, +Makes it far nobler than it was before: + As where the sun strikes life will gush, + And what is pale receive a flush, + Rich hues, a richer blush. + +My Lady's name, when I hear strangers use, +Not meaning her, sounds to me lax misuse; + I love none but My Lady's name; + Maud, Grace, Rose, Marian, all the same, + Are harsh, or blank and tame. + +My Lady walks as I have seen a swan +Swim where a glory on the water shone: + There ends of willow branches ride, + Quivering in the flowing tide, + By the deep river's side. + +Fresh beauties, howsoe'er she moves, are stirred: +As the sunned bosom of a humming bird + At each pant lifts some fiery hue, + Fierce gold, bewildering green or blue; + The same, yet ever new. + +What time she walks beneath the flowering May, +Quite sure am I the scented blossoms say, + "O Lady with the sunlit hair! + Stay and drink our odorous air, + The incense that we bear: + +"Thy beauty, Lady, we would ever shade; +For near to thee, our sweetness might not fade." + And could the trees be broken-hearted, + The green sap surely must have smarted, + When my Lady parted. + +How beautiful she is! A glorious gem +She shines above the summer diadem + Of flowers! And when her light is seen + Among them, all in reverence lean + To her, their tending Queen. + +A man so poor that want assaults his health, +Blessed with relief one morn in boundless wealth, + Breathes no such joy as mine, when she + Stands statelier, expecting me, + Than tall white lilies be: + +And the white flutter of her robe to trace, +Where clematis and jasmine interlace, + Expands my gaze triumphantly: + Even such his gaze, who sees on high + His flag, for victory. + +We wander forth unconsciously, because +The azure beauty of the evening draws; + When sober hues pervade the ground, + And universal life is drowned + Into hushed depths of sound. + +We thread a copse where frequent bramble spray +With loose obtrusion from the side roots stray, + And force sweet pauses on our walk; + I lift one with my foot, and talk + About its leaves and stalk. + +Or maybe that some thorn or prickly stem +Will take a prisoner her long garments' hem; + To disentangle it I kneel, + Oft wounding more than I can heal; + It makes her laugh, my zeal. + +Or on before a thin-legged robin hops, +And leaping on a twig, he pertly stops, + Speaking a few clear notes, till nigh + We draw, when briskly he will fly + Into a bush close by. + +A flock of goldfinches arrest their flight, +And wheeling round a birchen tree alight + Deep in its glittering leaves; and stay + Till scared at our approach, when they + Strike with vexed trills away. + +I recollect My Lady in the wood, +Keeping her breath, while peering as she stood + There, balanced lightly on tiptoe, + To mark a nest built snug below, + Leaves shadowing her brow. + +I recollect her puzzled, asking me, +What that strange tapping in the wood might be? + I told of gourmand thrushes, which, + To feast on morsels oosy rich, + Cracked poor snails' curling niche. + +And then, as knight led captive, in romance, +Through postern and dark passage, past grim glance + Of arms; where from throned state the dame + He loved, in sumptuous blushes came + To him held dumb for shame: + +Even so my spirit passed, and won, through fears +That trembled nigh despair; through foolish tears, + And hope fallen weak in breathless flight, + Where beamed in pure entrancing light + Love's beauty on my sight. + +For when we reached a hollow, where the stone +And scattered fragments of the shells lay strown, + By margin of a weedy rill; + "This air," she said, "feels damp and chill, + We'll go home if you will." + +"Make not my pathway dull so soon," I cried; +"See how yon clouds of rosy eventide + Roll out their splendour: while the breeze + Shifts gold from leaf to leaf, as these + Lithe saplings move at ease!" + +Grateful, in her deep silence, one loud thrush +Startled the air with song; then every bush + Of covert songsters all awoke, + And all, as to their leader's stroke, + Into full chorus broke. + +A lonely wind sighed up the pines, and sung +Of woes long past, forgot. My spirit hung + O'er awful gulfs: and loathly dread + So bitter was I wished me dead, + And from a great void said; + +"Wait till its glory fade; the sun but burned +To light your loveliness!" The Lady turned + To me, flushed by its lingering rays, + Mute as a star. My frantic praise + Fixed wide her brightened gaze: + +When, rapt in resolution, I told all +The mighty love I bore her; how would pall + My very breath of life, if she + For ever breathed not hers with me:-- + Could I a spirit be, + +How, vainly hoping to enrich her grace, +What gems and wonders would I snatch from space; + Would back through the vague distance beat, + Glowing with joy her smile to meet, + And heap them round her feet! + +Her waist shook to my arm. She bowed her head +To mine in silence, and my fears had fled: + (Just then we heard a tolling bell.) + Ah no; it is not right to tell; + But I remember well + +How dear the pressure of her warm young breast +Against my own, her home; how proud and blessed + I stood and felt her trickling tears, + While proudly murmuring in her ears + The hope of distant years. + +The rest I keep: a holy charm, a source +Of secret strength and comfort on my course. + Her glory left my pathway bright; + And stars on stars throughout the night + Came blooming into light. + + +II. DAWN. + + +O lily with the heavenly sun + Shining upon thy breast! +My scattered passions toward thee run, + And poise to awful rest. + +The darkness of our universe + Smothered my soul in night; +Thy glory shone; whereat the curse + Passed molten into light. + +Raised over envy; freed from pain; + Beyond the storms of chance: +Blessed king of my own world I reign, + Controlling circumstance. + + +III. NOON. + + +Warble, warble, warble, O thou joyful bird! +Warble, lost in leaves that shade my happy head; +Warble loud delights, laud thy warm-breasted mate, +And warbling shout the riot of thy heart, +Thine utmost rapture cannot equal mine. + + Flutter, flutter, and flash; crimson-winged flower, +Parted from thy stem grown in land of dreams! +Hover and tremble, flitting till thou findest, +Butterfly, thy treasure! Yet thou never canst +Find treasure rich as my contented rest. + + Hum on contentedly, thou wandering bee! +Or pausing in chosen flowers drain their sweets; +From honeyed petal thou canst never sip +The sweetest sweet of sweets, as I from Love,-- +From Love's warm mouth draw sweetest sweet of sweets. + + Round, western wind, in grateful eddies sway, +Whisper deliciously the trembling flowers: +O could I fill thy vacancy as I +Am filled with happiness, thou'dst breathe such sounds +Their blooms should wane and waver sick for love; +Thou'dst utter rarer secrets than are blown +With yonder bean-fields' paradisal scents;-- +These bean-field odours, lightly sweet and faint, +That tell of pastures sloping down to streams +Murmuring for ever on through sunny lands; +Where mountains gleam and bank to silvery heights +That scarce the greatest angel's wing can reach; +Where wondrous creatures float beneath the shade +Of growths sublime, unknown to mortal race; +Where hazes opaline lie tranced in dreams, +Where melodies are heard and die at will, +And little spirits make hot love to flowers. + + Though broadly flaming, plain of yellow blossom, +A dazzling blaze of splendour in the noon! +And brightening open heaven, ye shining clouds, +With lustrous light that casts the azure dim! +Your radiance all united to the sun's +Were darkness to that glory born in me. + + For Love's own voice has owned her love is mine; +And Love's own palm has pressed my palm to hers; +Love's own deep eyes have looked the love she spoke: +And Love's young heart to mine was fondly beating +As from her lips I sucked the sweet of life. + + +IV. NIGHT. + + +What trite old folly unharmonious sages +In dull books write or prattle day by day, +Of sin original and growing crime! +And commentating the advance of time, +Say wrong has fostered wrong for countless ages, +The strong ones marking down the weak for prey. + +They bruit of wars--that thunder heard in dreams; +Huge insurrections, and dynastic changes +Resolved in blood. I marvel they of thought +By apprehensions are so often wrought +To state as fact what unto all men seems, +Who watch cloud-struggles blown through stormy ranges! + +Why fill they not with love the printed page, +Illuminating, as yon moon the night, +Serenely shining on a world of beauty, +Where love moves ever hand in hand with duty; +And life, a long aspiring pilgrimage, +Makes labour but a pastime of delight! + +It was delightfulness to him I found +Whistling this afternoon behind his team, +That stepped an easy comfortable pace; +While off the mould-iron curved in rolling grace +Dark earth, wave lapping wave, without a sound; +And all passed by me blissful, like a dream. + +And those I noticed hoeing on the hill +Talking familiarly of homely things, +A daughter's marriage-day, a son's first child; +How the good Squire at length was reconciled, +Had overlooked the pheasant shot by Will:-- +Chirruping on as any cricket sings. + +And that complete Arcadian pastoral, +The piping boy who watched his feeding sheep; +And, as a little bird o'erflows with joy, +Piped on for hours my happy shepherd boy! +While, coiled below, his faithful animal +Basked in the sunshine, blinking, half asleep. + +This silent night-wind bloweth heavenly pure; +Like dimpled warmth of an infantine face. +Lo, glimmering starlike in yon balmy vale +The village lights; each tells a little tale +Of humble comfort, where its inmates, sure +In hope, feel grateful in their lowly place. + +And here My Lady's lighted oriel shines +A giant glowworm in the odorous gloom. +Ah, stands she smiling there in loose white gown, +Hearing the music of her future drown +The stillness and hushed whispering of the vines, +Whose lattice-clasping leaves o'ershade her room! + +Or kneels she worshipful beside her bed +In large-eyed hope and bended lowliness, +To crave that He, the Giver, may impart +Enough of strength to bind her trembling heart +Steadfast and true; and that her will be led +To own His chastening cares pain but to bless? + +Or sits she at her mirror, face to face +With her own loveliness? (O blessed land +That owns such twin perfections both together; +If guessed aright!) Ah, me; I wonder whether +She now her braided opulent hair unlace +And drop it billowing from her moonwhite hand! + +Then what a fount of wealth to lover's sight! +Her loosened hair, I heard her mother say, +When she is seated, tumbles to the floor +And trails the length of her own foot and more: +And dare I, lapt in bliss, dream my delight +Ere long shall watch its rippling softness play? + +Dare I, O vanity! but do I dare +Think she now looks upon the sorry rhyme +I wrote long ere that well-loved setting sun, +What time love conquering dread My Lady won, +While I unblessed, adored in mute despair:-- +Even now I gave it her at parting time. + +"O let me, Dearest, fall and once impart +My grieving love to ease this stricken heart; + But once, O Love, to fall and rest + This wearied head of mine, + But once to weep in thine + Unutterably tender breast; +And on my drooping lids feel thy young breath; +To feel it playing sweeter were than death. + +"Than death were sweet to one bent down and old, +And worn with persecutions manifold; + Whose stoutness long endured alone + The charge of bitter foes, + Till, furious, he rose, + When smitten, all were overthrown. +Who then of those, his dearest, none could find, +They having fled as leaves before the wind. + +"As he would pass, when to his failing sight +Their forms stand in a vision heavenly bright; + And piercing through his drowsed ears + Enters their tuneful cry + Of summons, audibly, + Thither where flow no mourners' tears: +So, dearest Love, my spirit, sore oppressed, +Would weeping in thy bosom sink to rest." + +Her window now is darkness, save the sheen +Glazed on it by the moon. Within she lies +Her supple shape relaxed, in dreamful rest, +And folds contentment babelike to her breast, +Whose beauteous heaving, even and serene, +Beats mortal time to heavenly lullabies. + + +V. WILD ROSE. + + +To call My Lady where she stood +"A Wild-rose blossom of the wood," +Makes but a poor similitude. + +For who by such a sleight would reach +An aim, consumes the worth in speech, +And sets a crimson rose to bleach. + +My Love, whose store of household sense +Gives duty golden recompense, +And arms her goodness with defence: + +The sweet reliance of whose gaze +Originates in gracious ways, +And wins the trust that trust repays: + +Whose stately figure's varying grace +Is never seen unless her face +Turn beaming toward another place; + +For such a halo round it glows +Surprised attention only knows +A lively wonder in repose. + +Can flowers that breathe one little day +In odorous sweetness life away, +And wavering to the earth decay, + +Have any claim to rank with her, +Warmed in whose soul impulses stir, +Then bloom to goodness, and aver + +Her worth through spheral joys shall move +When suns and systems cease above, +And nothing lives but perfect Love? + + +VI. MY LADY'S GLORY. + + +Strong in the regal strength of love, + Enthroned by native worth + Her sway is held on earth: +Whose soul looks downward from above + Exalted stars, whose power + Brightens the brightest flower. + +Her beauty walks in happier grace + Than lightly moving fawns + O'er old elm-shadowed lawns. +A tenderness shows through her face, + And like the morning's glow, + Hints a full day below. + +When site looks wide around the skies + On the sun's dazzling track, + And when shines softly back +Its glory to her open eyes, + She fills our hearts and sight + With wonder and delight. + +And when tired thought my sense benumbs, + Or when past shadows roll + Their memories on my soul, +Oft breaking through the darkness comes + A solace and surprise, + Her wonder-lighted eyes. + +How grand and beautiful the love + She silently conceals, + Nor save in act reveals! +She broods o'er kindness; as a dove + Sits musing in the nest + Of the life beneath her breast. + +The ready freshness that was known + In man's authentic prime, + The earliest breath of time, +Throughout her household ways is shown; + Mild greatness subtly wrought + With quaint and childlike thought. + +She sits to music: fingers fall, + Air shakes; her lifted voice + Makes flattered hope rejoice, +And shivering through Time's phantom pall, + Its wavering rents display + Dim splendour, far away; + +Where her perfection, glory-crowned, + Shall rest in love for ever; + When mortal systems sever, +And the orbed universe is drowned, + Leaving the empty skies + The blank of death-closed eyes. + +Deep in this truth I root my trust; + And know the dear One's praise, + Her mutely gracious ways, +When all her loveliness is dust + And mosses rase her name, + Will bless our world the same. + +As scent of flowers her worth was born + Her joyous goodness spread + Like music over head, +Smiles now as smiles a plain of corn + When in the winds of June, + Lit by a shining noon. + +A gap of sunlight in the storm; + A blossom ere the spring; + Immortal whispering; +A spirit manifest through form + Which we can touch and kiss,-- + To life such beauty is. + +Ah! who can doubt, though he may doubt + Our solid earth will run + A future round the sun, +That gentle impulse given out + Can never fail or die, + But throbs eternally! + + +VII. HER SHADOW. + + +At matin time where creepers interlace +We sauntered slowly, for we loved the place, +And talked of passing things; I, pleased to trace +Through leafy mimicry the true leaves made, +The stateliness and beauty of her shade; + +A wavering of strange purples dimly seen, +It gloomed the daisy's light, the kingcup's sheen, +And drank up sunshine from the vital green. +That silent shadow moving on the grass +Struck me with terror it should ever pass + +And be blank nothing in the coming years +Where, in the dreadful shadow of my fears, +Her shrouded form I saw through blurring tears, +My Darling's shrouded form in beauty's bloom +Born with funereal sadness to her tomb. + +"What idle dreaming," I abruptly cried: +My Lady turned, half startled, at my side, +And looked inquiry: I, through shame or pride, +Bantered the words as mockery of sense, +Mere aimless freak of fostered indolence. + +She did not urge me; gentle, wise, and kind! +But clasped my hand and talked: her beaming mind +Arrayed in brightness all it touched. Behind, +Her shadow fell forgot, as she and I +Went homeward musing, smiling at the sky. + +Thro' pastures and thro' fields where corn grew strong; +By cottage nests that could not harbour wrong; +Across the bridge where laughed the stream; along +The road to where her gabled mansion stood, +Old, tall, and spacious, in a massy wood. + +We loitered toward the porch; but paused meanwhile +Where Psyche holds a dial to beguile +The hours of sunshine by her golden smile; +And holds it like a goblet brimmed with wine, +Nigh clad in trails of tangled eglantine. + +In the deep peacefulness which shone around +My soul was soothed: no darksome vision frowned +Before my sight while cast upon the ground +Where Psyche's and My Lady's shadows lay, +Twin graces on the flower-edged gravel way. + +I then but yearned for Titian's glorious power, +That I by toiling one devoted hour, +Might check the march of Time, and leave a dower +Of rich delight that beauty I could see, +For broadening generations yet to be. + + +VIII. HER GARDEN. + + +The wind that's good for neither man nor beast +Weeks long incessant from the blighting East +Drove gloom and havoc through the land and ceased. +When swaying mildly over wide Atlantic seas, +Bland and dewy soft streamed the Western breeze. + +In walking forth, I felt with vague alarm, +Closer than wont her pressure on my arm, +As through morn's fragrant air we sought what harm +That Eastern wind's despite had done the garden growth; +Where much lay dead or languished low for drouth. + +Her own parterre was bounded by a red +Old buttressed wall of brick, moss-broidered; +Where grew mid pink and azure plots a bed +Of shining lilies intermixed in wondrous light; +She called them "Radiant spirits robed in white." + +Here the mad gale had rioted and thrown +Far drifts of snowy petals, fiercely blown +The stalks in twisted heaps: one flower alone +Yet hung and lit the waste, the latest blossom born +Among its fallen kinsmen left forlorn. + +"Thy pallid droop," cried I, "but more than all, +Thy lonely sweetness takes my soul in thrall, +O Seraph Lily Blanch! so stately tall: +By violets adored, regarded by the rose, +Well loved by every gentle flower that blows!" + +My Lady dovelike to the lily went, +Took in curved palms a cup, and forward leant, +Deep draining to the gold its dreamy scent. +I see her now, pale beauty, as she bending stands, +The wind-worn blossom resting in her hands! + +Then slowly rising, she in gazing trance +Affrayed, long pored on vacancy. A glance +Of chilly splendour tinged her countenance +And told the saddened truth, that stress of blighting weather, +Had made her lilies and My Lady droop together. + + +IX. TOLLING BELL. + + +"Weak, but her spirits good," the letter said: +A bell was tolling, while these words I read, +A dull sepulchral summons for the dead. + Fear grew in every pace I strode + Hurrying on that endless road. + +And when I reached the house a terror came +That wrought in me a hidden sense of blame, +And entering I scarce dared to speak her name, + Who lay, sweet singer, warbling low + Rhymes I made her long ago. + + "The sun exhales the morning dew, + The dew returns again + At eve refreshing rain: + The forest flowers bloom bravely new, + They drooping fade and die, + The seeds that in them lie + Will blossom as the others blew." + + "And ever rove among the flowers + Bright children who ere long + Are men and women strong: + When on they pass through sun and showers, + And glancing sideways watch + Their children run to catch + A rainbow with the laughing Hours." + +I watched in awkward wonder for a time +As there she listless lay and sang my rhyme, +Wrapped up in fabrics of an Indian clime + She seemed a Bird of Paradise + Languid from the traversed skies. + +A dawn-bright snowy peak her smile . . . Strange I +Should dawdle near her grace admiringly, +When love alarmed and challenged sympathy, + Announced in chills of creeping fear + Danger surely threatening near. + +I shrank from searching the abyss I felt +Yawned by; whose verge voluptuous blossoms belt +With dazzling hues:--she speaks! I fall and melt, + One sacred moment drawn to rest, + Deeply weeping in her breast: + +Within the throbbing treasure wept? But brief +Those loosening tears of blessed deep relief, +That won triumphant ransom from my grief, + While loving words and comfort she + Breathed in angel tones to me. + +Our visions met, when pityingly she flung +Her passionate arms about me, kissing clung, +Close kisses, stifling kisses; till each wrung, + With welded mouths, the other's bliss + Out in one long sighing kiss. + +Love-flower that burst in kisses and sweet tears, +Scattering its roseate dreamflakes, disappears +Into cold truth: for, loud with brazen jeers, + That bell's toll, clanging in my brain, + Beat me, loth, to earth again: + +Where, looking on my Love's endangered state, +Wrought by keen anguish mad, I struck at fate, +Prostrating mockingly in sport or hate + The aspirations, darkling, we + Cherish and resolve to be. + +She spoke, but sharply checked; then as her zone +A lady's hands would clasp, My Lady's own +Pressed at her yielding side; her solemn tone + And forward eager face implored + Me to kneel where she adored. + +Despite her pain, with tender woman's phrase +She solaced me, whose part it was to raise +Anew the gladness to her weakened gaze, + And wisely in man's firmness be + To my drooping vine a tree. + +But no; sunk, dwindled, dwarfed, and mean, beside +Her couch I sitting saw her eyes grow wide +With awe, and heard her voice move as the tide + Of steady music rich and calm + In some high cathedral psalm. + +Then, as that high cathedral psalm o'erflows +The dusky, vaulted aisles, and slowly grows +A burst of harmony the hearer knows, + Her voice assailed by rage, and I + Took its purport wonderingly. + +"Ah, pause for dread, before you charge in haste +The ways of fate; for how can those be traced +That in the life Omnipotent lie based? + Or earth-grown atom's bounded soul + Grasp the universal whole? + +"The more he chafes, the worse his fetter galls +The luckless captive closed in dungeon walls, +And fighting chains and stones, he fighting falls. + Nor will that wasteful immolation + Touch his lofty victor's station. + +"Woe be to him perverse, who, weak and blind, +In pride refusing to behold, shall find +The ponderous roll of circumstance will grind + His steps; and if he turn not, must + Bruise and crush him into dust. + +"We are the Lord's, not ours, His angels sing; +So you, mine own, bow meekly to your King, +And striving hard and long His grace will bring: + His voice shall through the battle cry, + When the strife is raging high." + +She fluttering paused: awhile her surging zeal +All utterance overwhelmed to mute appeal: +I felt as men who fallen in battle feel, + When far their chief's sword, like a gem, + Points to glory not for them. + +"When naked heaven is azure to your eyes, +And light shines everywhere, you can be wise; +But, when its storms in common course arise, + To you the wind but sobs and grieves + Wailing with the streaming leaves. + +"Rust eats the steel, and moths corrupt the cloth, +And peevish doubts destroy the soul that's loth +To strive for duty, merged in shameful sloth, + And lolls a weary wretch forlorn, + While men reap the mellow corn. + +"It is not man's to dream in sweet repose; +He toils and murmurs, as he wondering goes, +Poor changeful glitter on the stream that flows + In lapses huge and solemn roar, + Ever on without a shore. + +"The plantlet grown in darkness puts forth spray; +Through loaded gloom yearns feebly toward some ray +Of bounty golden from the outer day + That shines eternally sublime + On the dancing motes of time." + +The music stopped, and passed into a smile +Of tenderness, which she impressed to guile +Her pain from me: I gazed as one awhile + Escaped, who sees twin rainbows shine + O'er his wrecked ship gulfed in brine. + +My lost soul sank adown in soundless seas +To ruined heaps besprent with ancient lees +Of wealth: by soft stupendous ocean-trees; + By anchors forged in early time, + Changed to trails of rusted slime: + +To where, what seemed a tomb, in this deep hell +Of night, bore a dim name I dread to tell: +And there I heard sound some gigantic bell, + Whose thunder laughing through my brain + Mocked me back to flesh again. + +Here all was emptier than the empty shade +Of mist before a midnight moon decayed: +Here life was strange as death, and more dismayed + My spirit, now scarce conscious she + Urged entreaty yet to me. + +"'Tis life in life to know the King is just, +And will not animate his helpless dust +With fire unquenchable whose ardour must + Achieve majestic deeds that raise + Universal shouts of praise: + +"Shouts of acclaim that gather into story, +Chanted by one on some high promontory +Who glowing in the dawn's advancing glory, + Far down upon the listening crowd + Shines through swathes of lingering cloud: + +"And fires, by what he sings, to noble feud +With grosser instincts, the charged multitude, +That grow in temper and similitude + To those great souls whose victories + Triumph still in melodies: + +"This fire will not be granted to distress, +To fail in cold dead ash and bitterness: +He will not grant true love that yearns to bless + The world, that it may only sigh + Back into itself and die." + +The words here faltering sank to undertone: +Her soul was murmuring to itself alone +On some wide desolation, dark, unknown; + Whose limits, stretched from mortal sight + Touch the happy hills of light. + +"I, toiling at the task assigned to me, +Am summoned from my labour suddenly: +The King recalls his handmaiden; and she + Submissively herself anoints, + Going whither He appoints. + +"The sheaves are garnered now, her work is done, +The day is waning, and she must be gone, +To bend herself before the Holy One, + And strictly her appointed meed + There accept in very deed." + +Dead silence, more than if a thunder-stroke +Had crashed the summer air, my sense awoke +To sudden apprehension: hard the yoke + Of misery was mine to bear; + Wrath-befooled, in my despair + +I went, and, leaning from the lattice, mused +On my immeasurable woe; accused +Heaven's King, that, like an earthly king, abused + His power omnipotent, and hurled + Curses broadcast on the world. + +Then glancing toward her danger thought, "A cell +Of noxious vapours this dull life; as well +She should escape: so pure! she scarce could dwell + With sinful creatures who alway + Stumbling take the stain of clay + +"But I unworthy! How in conscience I-- +How could I hazard guidance in her high +Cold path of duty leading to the sky! + As well hold torch to light a star + Shining, mystic, nebular. + +"She yearns to bless the world: just love for all +Best shows in love for one; love cannot fall +Like sunshine over half this wondrous ball, + But her impulses yearn to bless + All the world. Strange tenderness!" + +This shameful mockery of myself alone +Was interrupted by a sobbing moan +That brought me to her coach, where low mine own + Sweet Love lay swooning ashy white, + Eyelids closing from the light. + +Ah, coarse, hard, bitter, brutal self! A beast +In passion, nay far worse than such, to feast +On baseless anger against her whose least + Stray word was kind; her daily food + Interest in another's good. + +My passion then, like an unruly horse +Checked by a master's hand, fell slack; its force +Unnerved, and stifling me with hot remorse; + Frightened, despairing, "Love," I cried, + Wildly busy at her side; + +And kissed and chafed her brow; I chafed her hand; +Audacious grown with fear, released the band +That clasped her tender waist, and keenly scanned + Each feature, till her opening eyes + Met my own in bright surprise + +"Ah you! I had from you passed and the world +Through endless nothing rudely was I hurled +While you there hung above, your proud lip curled, + Regarding me with piercing hate + Crying I deserved my fate." + +We met each other, as when waters meet +In long continued shock, and muttering, sweet +Confusion mixed in unity complete + That changing time may not dissever; + One in love and one for ever. + +Purged by remorse, love knit my strength; and now +Came gracious power to still upon her brow +Those troubled waves of some dark underflow; + Her soul victorious over pain + Spoke in golden smiles again. + +We sat and read how Prospero closed his strife +With evil, wrought his charm, and crowned his life +In making two fair beings man and wife: + Of brave Count Gismond's happy lot; + And the Lady of Shalott. + +We ceased; for eve had come by dusky stealth. +I saw, while lifting her, like crimson health +Burn in her cheeks, holding the weighted wealth + Of all the worlds in heaven to me; + Held her long, long, lingeringly: + +And laying down more than my life, her weight; +Scarce kissed her pallid hands, then moved with great +Reluctance, bodeful, from her placid state; + But, ere my slow feet reached the door, + Turned and caught one last look more, + +And awe-struck stood to see portentous loom +From her large eyes full gazing through the gloom +Love darkly wedded to eternal doom, + As she were gazing from the dead: + Falling at her feet I said, + +"Bless me, dear Love, bless me before I go; +With love divine a beam of comfort throw, +For guidance and support, that I through woe + Be raised and purified in grace + Worthy to behold your face." + +She bowed her head in stately tenderness +Low whispering as her hands my brow did press, +"I pray that He will your lone spirit bless, + And if to leave you be my fate, + Pray you for me while I wait." + +A useless pang in her no more to wake, +I forced myself away, nor dared to take +Another look for her beloved sake; + My face had told of the distressed + Swollen heart labouring in my breast. + +When in the outer air, I felt as one +Fresh startled from a dream, wherein the sun +Had dying left the earth a dingy, dun + Annihilation. The nightjar + Only thrilled the air afar: + +No other sound was there: a muffled breeze +Crept in the shrubs, and shuddered up the trees, +Then sought the ghost-white vapour of the leas, + Where one long sheet of dismal cloud + Swathed the distance in a shroud. + +A solitary eye of cold stern light +Stared threateningly beyond the Western height, +Wrapped in the closing shadows of the night; + And all the peaceful earth had slept + But that eye stern vigil kept. + +I wandered wearily I knew not where; +Up windy downs far-stretching, bleak and bare; +Through swamps that soddened under stagnant air; + In blackest woods and brambled mesh, + Thorny bushes tore my flesh: + +Amid the ripening corn I heard it sigh, +Hollow and sad, as night crawled sluggishly: +Hollow and sadly sighed the corn while I + Moved darkly in the midst, a blight + Darkening more the hateful night. + +My soul its hoarded secrets emptied on +The vaulted gloom of night: old fancies shone, +And consecrated ancient hopes long gone; + Old hopes that long had ceased to burn, + Gone, and never to return. + +No starlight pierced the dense vault over head, +And all I loved was passing or had fled: +So on I wandered where the pathway led; + And wandered till my own abode + Spectral pale rose from the road. + +What time I gained my home I saw the morn +Made dimly on the sullen East. Wayworn +I went into the echoing house forlorn, + Heartsick and weary sought my room, + Better had it been my tomb. + +I lay, and ever as my lids would close +In dull forgetfulness to slumberous doze, +Lone sounds of phantom tolling scared repose; + Till wearied nature, sore oppressed, + Slowly sank and dropped to rest. + + +X. WILL-O'-THE-WISP. + + + "Gone the sickness, fled the pain, + Health comes bounding back again, +And all my pulses tingle for delight. + Together what a pleasant thing + To ramble while the blackbirds sing, +And pasture lands are sparkling dewy bright! + + "Soon will come the clear spring weather, + Hand in hand we'll roam together, +And hand in hand will talk of springs to come; + As on the morning when you played + The necromancer with my shade, +In senseless shadow gazing darkly dumb. + + "Cast away that cloudy care, + Or, I vow, in my parterre +You shall not enter when the lilies blow, + And I go there to stand and sing + Songs to the heaven-white wondrous ring; +Sir Would-be-Wizard of the crumpled brow!" + + +XI. GIVEN OVER. + + + The men of learning say she must +Soon pass and be as if she had not been. + To gratify the barren lust +Of Death, the roses in her cheeks are seen +To blush so brightly, blooming deeper damascene. + + All hope and doubt, all fears are vain: +The dreams I nursed of honouring her are past, + And will not comfort me again. +I see a lurid sunlight throw its last +Wild gleam athwart the land whose shadows lengthen fast. + + It does not seem so dreadful now +The horror stands out naked, stark, and still: + I am quite calm, and wonder how +My terror played such mad pranks with my will. +The North winds fiercely blow, I do not feel them chill. + + All things must die: somewhere I read +What wise and solemn men pronounce of joy; + No sooner born, they say, than dead: +The strife of being, but a whirling toy +Humming a weary moan spun by capricious boy. + + Has my soul reached a starry height +Majestically calm? No monster, drear + And shapeless, glares me faint at night; +I am not in the sunshine checked for fear +That monstrous shapeless thing is somewhere crouching near? + + No; woe is me! far otherwise: +The naked horror numbs me to the bone; + In stupor calm its cold blank eyes +Set hard at mine. I do not fall or groan, +Our island Gorgon's face had changed me into stone. + + +XII. STORM. + + +Now thickening round the shrunken baseless sky, + Sullen vapours crawl +Climbing to masses, tumbled heavily + Grim in giant sprawl, +That smother up domed heaven's scud-fleckered height +And form like mortal armies ranged for fight. + +This lighted gloom spreads ghastly on the land; + Sheep do crowd; and herds +Collecting, bellow pitifully bland. + Quiet are the birds +In ghostly trees that shiver not a sound: +And leaves decayed drop straight unto the ground. + +Drearily solemn runs a monotone, + Heard through breathless hush, +Swollen torrents hissing far in lavish moan, + Foamed with headlong rush, +Sob on protesting, toward annihilation, +Their solitary dismal lamentation. + +This gloom has sucked all interest from the scene, + Now changed wrathful grey: +Familiar things, that staring plain had been, + Fade in mists away: +At ambush, watching from its stormy lair, +Some danger hovering loads the stagnant air. + +It serves to little purpose I may know + That electric law +Whereby the jagged glare and thunder-blow + Latent impulse draw; +No less my danger. Ha! that lightning flash +Proclaims in fire the coming thunder-crash. + +But what care I though deluges down pour + Beating earth to mire, +Though heaven shattering with the thunder's roar + Scorcheth now in fire, +Though every planet molten from its place +Should trickle lost through everlasting space; + +For this blank prospect, void of all but dread, + Void as any tomb, +My soul has left; and by a lonely bed, + In a girl's sick room, +Hangs there expectant of her parting breath, +The silent voice of doom, the stroke of death. + + + +PART THE SECOND. + + +I. MY LADY IN DEATH. + + +All is but coloured show. I look + Into the green light shed + By leaves above my head, +And feel its inmost worth forsook + My being, when she died. + This heart, now hot and dried, +Halts, as the parched course where a brook + Mid flowers was wont to flow, + Because her life is now +No more than stories in a printed book. + +Grass thickens proudly o'er that breast, + Clay-cold and sadly still, + My happy face felt thrill. +How much her dear, dear mouth expressed! + And now are closed and set + Lips which my own have met! +Her eyelids by the damp earth pressed! + Damp earth weighs on her eyes; + Damp earth shuts out the skies. +My Lady rests her heavy, heavy rest. + +To see her high perfection sweep + The favoured earth, as she + With welcoming palms met me! +How can I but recall and weep? + Her hands' light charm was such, + Care vanished at their touch. +Her feet spared little things that creep; + "For stars are not," she'd say, + "More wonderful than they." +And now she sleeps her heavy, heavy sleep. + +Immortal hope shone on that brow, + Above whose waning forms + Go softly real worms. +Surely it was a cruel blow + Which cut my Darling's life + Sharply, as with a knife; +I hate my own that lets me grow + As grows a bitter root + From which rank poisons shoot +Upon the grave where she is lying low. + +Ah, hapless fate! Could it be just, + That her young life should play + Its easy, natural way; +Then, with an unexpected thrust, + Be hence thus rudely sent; + Even as her feelings blent +With those around, whose love would trust + Her willing power to bless, + For all their happiness? +Alone she moulders into common dust. + +Small birds twitter and peck the weeds + That wave above this bed + Where my dear Love lies dead: +They flutter and burst the globed seeds, + And beat the downy pride + Of dandelions, wide: +From speargrass, bowed with watery beads, + The wet uniting, drips + In sparkles off the tips: +In mallow bloom the wild bee drops and feeds. + +No more she hears, where vines adorn + Her window, on the boughs + Birds chirrup an arouse: +Flies, buzzing, strengthening with the morn, + She will not hear again + At random strike the pane: +No more against the newly shorn + Grass edges will her gown + In playful waves be thrown, +As she walks forth to view what flowers are born. + +Nor ponder more those dark green rings + Stained quaintly on the lea, + To picture elfin glee; +While through the grass a faint air sings, + And swarms of insects revel + Along the sultry level: +No more will watch their brilliant wings, + Now lightly dip, now soar, + Then sink, and rise once more. +My Lady's death makes dear these trivial things. + +One noon, within an oak's broad shade, + Lost in delightful talk, + We rested from our walk. +Beyond the shadow, large and staid, + Cows chewed with drowsy eye + Their cud complacently: +Elegant deer walked o'er the glade, + Or stood with wide bright eyes + Gazing a short surprise; +And up the fern slope nimble conies played. + +As rooks cawed labouring through the heat; + Each wing-flap seemed to make + Their weary bodies ache; +And swallows, though so wildly fleet, + Made breathless pauses there + At something in the air. +All disappeared: our pulses beat + Distincter throbs, and each + Turned and kissed without speech, +She trembling from her mouth down to her feet. + +Then, as I felt her bosom heave, + And listened to the din + Of joyous life within, +Could I but in my heaven believe, + Assured by that repose + Within my heart, and those +Warm arms around my neck! While eve + In shadowy silence came + And quenched the Western flame, +That lingered round her as if loth to leave. + +Then told I in a whispered tone + Of that approaching time, + When merry peal and chime +Of marriage ringing should make known, + In crashes through the air + Exultingly we were +By solemn rite each other's own: + And she, confiding, meek, + Against mine pressed her cheek, +And gave response in happy tears alone. + +No heed of time took we, because + Those clanging bells had quite + Absorbed us in delight. +A happiness so perfect awes + The failing pulse and breath, + Like the mute doom of death: +Then, in an instantaneous pause + Flashed on my vacant eye + A swift Eternity; +And starting, as if clutched by demon-claws, + +Awakened from a dizzy swoon, + I felt appalling fears + With ringings in my ears, +And wondered why the glaring moon + Swung round the dome of night + With such stupendous might. +Next came, like the sweet air of June, + A treacherous calm suspense + That bred a loathly sense, +Some nameless ill would overwhelm us soon. + +She passed like summer flowers away. + Her aspect and her voice + Will never more rejoice, +For she lies hushed in cold decay. + Broken the golden bowl + Which held her hallowed soul: +It was an idle boast to say + "Our souls are as the same," + And stings me now to shame: +Her spirit went, and mine did not obey. + +The black truth, with a fiery dart, + Went hurtling through my thought, + When I beheld her brought +Whence she with life did not depart. + Her beauty by degrees + Sank, sharpened from disease: +The heavy sinking at her heart + Sucked hollows in her cheek, + And made her eyelids weak, +Though oft they opened wide with sudden start. + +The Deathly Power in silence drew + My Lady's life away. + I watched, dumb for dismay, +The shock of thrills that quivered through + Her wasted frame, and shook + The meaning in her look, +As near, more near, the moment grew. + O horrible suspense! + O giddy impotence! +I saw her features lax, and change their hue. + +Her gaze, grown large with fate, was cast + Where my mute agonies + Made sadder her sad eyes: +Her breath caught with short plucks and fast, + Then one hot choking strain; + She never breathed again. +I had the look which was her last: + Her love, when breath was gone, + One moment lingering shone, +Then slowly closed, and hope for ever passed. + +A dreadful tremour ran through space + When first the mournful toll + Rang for My Lady's soul. +The shining world was hell; her grace + Only the flattering gleam + And mockery of a dream: +Oblivion struck me like a mace, + And as a tree that's hewn + I dropped, in a dead swoon, +And lay a long time cold upon my face. + +Earth had one quarter turned before + My miserable fate + Pressed down with its whole weight. +My sense came back; and shivering o'er + I felt a pain to bear + The sun's keen cruel glare, +Which shone not warm as heretofore; + And never more its rays + Will satisfy my gaze: +No more; no more; O, never any more. + + +II. DAY DREAM. + + +What art thou whispering lowly to thy babe, +O wan girl-mother, with Madonna lids +Downcast? Why pressest thou so close his pale +Geranium cheek to thy yet whiter breast? +Ah, doubtless sweet; to feel him draw the stream +That fills with strength his lily limbs! And laughs +Thine own heart with his deeply dimpled laughter, +Answering straight thy dainty finger's touch? +And understandeth he that murmurous moan, +Wherewith thou hushest, patting him to rest? + + What visions charm thy gaze, now resting wide +In settled sweet content? Beholdest thou +Thy babe, now sprung a man, walk sunhazed slopes +With one lovelier than visions; lovely as +The truth, O Love, when thou dost smile on me? +Or seest thou him still greater grown in might, +And stout of action marching on to reach +That changeful coloured flag, whose waving crests +The glittering heights of fame, for which men pant; +Unmindful there what tempests rage and sweep; +Alas; what dream has made that watery veil +Hide thine eye's light from mine; even as a mist +Passing between me and a harvest moon! +And whence this shadowy wall that baulks my gaze? +Why fadest thou, thyself, in mist, O Love? +Whither hath fled thy babe--and where art thou?-- +Where am I?--Is it life--a dream--or death? + + Ah me; alas, this crushing wretchedness! +And I a vainer fool than one who yearns +Clutching at rainbows spanned across the sky! +Ah, hope diseased! My spirit lured astray +By siren hope drifts hard by some dark fate: +And hope alternating despair has mixed +My life so long with charnelled death, that I +Can scarce resolve the present from my past, +Nor what might once have been from what is now. + + Ah, Dearest! shall I never see thy face +Again: not ever; never any more? +I know that fancy was but naught, and one +Born of past hope: I know thy earthly form +Is mouldering in its tomb; but yet, O Love, +Thy spirit must dwell somewhere in this waste +Of worlds, that fill the overwhelming heavens +With light and motion; that could never die; +And wilt thou not vouchsafe one beaming look +To ease a lonely heart that beats in pain +For loss of thee, and only thee, O Love? +Or hast thou found in that pure life thou livest +My soul was an unworthy choice for thine, +And therefore takest no count of its despair? +And yet, yea verily, thy love was true; +I would not wrong thee with another thought: +I would not enter at the gates of heaven +By thinking else than that thy love was true. +But I obtain no response to my cries, +Making within my soul all void, and cold, +And comfortless. + Ay, empty, as this grate, +Of life, wherefrom the fire has well nigh fled, +Leaving but chasmed ugliness and ruin: +And weak as faltering of these taper flames +Half sunken in their sockets, by whose gleam +I see, though faintly, where my books stand ranged +Most mute; though sometime eloquent to me; +And where my pictures hang with other forms +Instinct from what I know: where friends portrayed +Like ghosts loom on me from another world. +Then what remains, but, like a child worn out +With weeping, that I sink me down to rest, +To sleep, not dream--and if I could to die? + + +III. MY LADY'S VOICE FROM HEAVEN. + + +I had been sitting by her tomb + In torpor one dark night; +When fitful tremours shook the doom +Of cold lethargic settled gloom, + That weighed upon my sight: + +And while I sat, and sickly heaves + Disturbed my spirit's sloth, +A wind came, blown o'er distant sheaves, +That hissing, tore and lashed the leaves + And lashed the undergrowth: + +It roared and howled, it raged about + With some determined aim; +And storming up the night, brought out +The moon, that like a happy shout, + Called forth My Lady's name, + +In sudden splendour on the stone. + Then, for an instant, I +Snatched and heaped up my past, bestrown +With hopes and kisses, struggling moan, + And pangs: as suddenly, + +Oppressed with overwhelming weight, + Down fell the edifice; +When touched, as by the hand of Fate, +My gloom was gone. I felt my state + So light, I sobbed for bliss. + +The loud winds, spent in seeking rest, + Dropped dead. My fevered brow +Drank coolness from the grass it pressed; +And in my desolated breast + A change began to grow, + +While feeling those tears slowly drain + The load of grief which had +A sluggish curse within me lain, +Save when remembrance wrought my brain + For vivid moments mad. + +My tears, as treasures of a wreck + That in the ocean slept, +Recovered, ran without a check; +And earth was my good mother's neck + To which I clung and wept. + +I rose at length, and felt a dense + Benumbed dead weight. And now +The night air hung in deep suspense! +A singing hush that pressed my sense + And stunned me like a blow: + +Through my lids clenched the living air + In gold and purple rings +Danced musically round me there, +The light it held throbbed with the glare + And beat of rapid wings. + +Mine eyes I dared not try to raise; + My Lady's beamed on me +In fixed serenity of gaze, +And were what old sunshiny days + In childhood used to be. + +A gasping lapse; and I was whirled + Round the faint void of space; +In dizzy circles hugely hurled, +I saw the constellated world + With every orb embrace, + +To one stupendous vortex-light, + Spinning a fiery ram, +Then fail, struck out by sudden night; +When swung adown in headlong might, + Earth's touch shook through my brain. + +The dumb sound in mine ears was burst + By her portentous voice; +As sweet as death to one accursed, +As unto one near blind for thirst + A running water's noise. + +Her voice in some translucent star, + Remote, beyond my sight, +Was singing marvellously far; +And yet so strangely near to jar, + As jars too strong a light. + +She sang a song. She warbled low, + She did not sing in words; +I felt it in my spirit glow, +And knew it, as with joy I know + The morning shouts of birds. + +But hard the task I undertake, + With mortal tongue to reach +The utterance of my Love, and make +Her high immortal meaning break + To clearness through my speech! + +I can no more, with glimmering trope + That into darkness runs, +Reveal its depth, than they could hope, +Who on in lifelong blindness grope, + To sing of rising suns. + +"Or e'er that life my King had lent + Was lifted into rest, +His message through my lips He sent, +And on thy path His glory went + To guide thee to the blessed. + +"But thou didst turn thy face, and scorn + His grace divine as nought; +And set thy gaze to earth forlorn, +And rage at fate, till gaunt and worn, + Death mouldered in thy thought. + +"Thou, blindly gross, didst toy with clay, + And in the ghastly gleam +Of charnel gloom didst kiss decay; +And many full moons waned away, + And left thee in thy dream. + +"For with thy Lily's worldly dress + Thou didst thine eyesight fill; +And scorn to know its loveliness +Were but an empty boast unless + Made living by His will. + +"Thou mourn'dst not most the vanished soul + Which was my Lord's through thine; +But more the broken pleasure-bowl, +Whose golden richness shed, when whole, + Its splendour in thy wine. + +"And therefore living wert thou made + To taste the cup of death; +And therefore did the glory fade, +From guidance into deadly shade + That iced thy shuddering breath. + +"Permitted, now I come to thee: + I warn thee of thy sin; +I urge thee cleanse thine eyesight free, +That purified thy soul may see + The way his love to win. + +"His love incomprehensible + Did never turn away +From penitent whom harm befell; +But springeth like a desert well + For thirsting poor estray. + +"Let him who scorneth mercy shown, + Unhappy one, beware! +For whoso lives in pride alone, +His pride shall harden to a stone + Too great for him to bear. + +"And whoso, having warned been, + Refuseth still to turn, +Behind his shadow, shrunken mean, +A poring spectre shall be seen + With livid stare and girn. + +"Thou troubled one, who unto me + Art next my Lord's own grace, +O turn to Him, and He will be +A refuge from thy misery, + A smile upon thy face! + +"A righteous strength will nerve thine arm, + And courage fill thy breast: +And having bravely warred on harm, +The cries of victory shall charm + Thy dying eyes to rest. + +"And succoured ones shall praise his name + Who, toiling for them, died. +And, nobly sung, his honest fame +Shall beat in hearts unborn, and claim + Their love and grateful pride. + +"And Love will lead her sacrifice + To where a shining row +Stand beckoning to the heights of bliss; +And she will clasp his hands and kiss + Welcome upon his brow." + +I knew not when the singing ceased + To trance my brightened soul, +Then from that long eclipse released. +But looking hopeful towards the East, + I saw flush pole to pole + +The dawn, that had begun to show, + And through dank vapour burned, +As in a sick face lying low +The rich incarnadine would glow, + When healthy life returned. + +Small drowsy chirping met the light, + And dim in lowlands far +Lone marsh-birds winged their misty flight; +What time Her aspect on my sight + Beamed from the morning star. + +It waned into the warbling day; + That, rising fierce and strong, +Now looked the Western gloom away, +And kindled such a roundelay, + The world awoke with song, + +And fresh delicious breezes came + With scents of paradise +So tingling through my knitted frame, +That never since I lisped a name + Knew I such joy arise. + +Pure was the azure over head; + Bright was the earth around; +While I on resolution fed, +And moved, as one called from the dead, + In silence on the ground. + +Toward my home I walked, elate + With hope and settled plan: +And reverent to the will of Fate, +In every step I trod my weight, + A sober-minded man. + + + +PART THE THIRD. + + +I. YEARS AFTER. + + +Our world has spun ten circles round the light +Since here she vanished. In my helpless gaze, +To mark the spot, was fixed this carven stone, +Raw, garish, stolidly obtrusive then, +Now harmonising kindly with the rest. +A spray of centipedal ivy creeps +From death to birth, and reaches to her name; +With kisslike touch its tender leaflets feel +The letter's edge,--I scarce can think it chance. + + Now scene by scene that strange old long-ago, +Crowding my opened memory, presents +Tumultuous, as in dreams, some dreadful state +Wherein I knew not falsehood from the truth; +Where hope ascending struck the star of Love, +Then fell down headlong grovelling in despair; +But rose at length and walked the beaten way. +So dim and far these things; so worn and changed, +I scarcely feel that I am he who sought +And won her love. And is it true indeed, +That I absorbed in tenderest intercourse +Of trustful glance, and trustful clasping hands, +With her went wandering by the river side; +While over head melodious branches sang, +Scattering the gold of sunset-dazzled flowers +Breathing their perfumed sweetness from our path, +That flickering went to where in purple woods +The rugged church tower burned a wall of fire! + + Did I, when silence awed the winter woods, +And giant shadows trenched the frosty ground +From bole and limb whose vault held in the night, +Love to behold the full-grown magic moon +Cast splendour glittering on the silver rime? + Yes; mid the notes and emerald flush of spring, +With swollen brooks exulting through the fields, +And rainy wind that in an ocean-roar +Bore down the forest tops the livelong day, +Through straggling gleams, through random wafts of shade, +Rejoicingly I trod the glistening paths. + Yes, I it was, in dreamy golden haze, +Beheld poor men hard toiling all the hours, +And thought them happier than the birds that sang, +That sang and trilled in gurgles of delight. + + Dallying I loitered in the golden time +Long after the loved nightingale had ceased +To pour his passionate impulse over plains +Of shivering corn, now ripened into wealth; +When sunset-coloured fruit in orchard crofts +Hung slowly mellowing under azure noons; +And, hushed in darkened leaves, the dreaming air +Swelled gently to a whispering sound, and died. +With joy I wandered on from knoll to knoll +And lost in marvel, drank the lisping winds, +The fairy winds that lisped me all was good. +Nor marked I when the clogged horizon flew +In dusky vapour crowding up the skies; +But woke anon when deathlike pallor thrown +From wrathful drift laid the whole land in gloom; +When war, enormous war, broke through the heavens, +In sheets and streaking fire and thunderous clap, +With shock on shock, that crushed the ripened corn, +And swept the piled up midsummer to ruin. +That wrenched great timbers of a thousand years, +Shaking the strong foundations of the land. +And when at last the terrible tempest fell, +Wide heaven was emptied of the sun and stars, +And void of more than all their light to me. + + Like fretted me to hollow weariness +When my sweet Dove of Paradise went off, +Ascending, glory-guarded, into heaven. +Then feeding on the past, and fondling death, +I grew in livid horror: soon had grown, +By foul self cankered, to a charnel ghoule, +Had not Almighty God, gracious in love, +Permitted her own presence once again, +Mysterious as a vision, yet once more +To come a shining warning and reveal +Athwart my path unfathomable gulfs, +And kindle hope wherewith I still might gain +The hills that shine for ever to the blessed. + + Much striving has been mine since those events +Ruled the pulsation of my daily life: +And now they are a vulgar chronicle, +And gossiped over by the rudest tongues. +A haunting song of old felicities +Lured me, scarce consciously, down here to muse +Upon my shattered dreams; safe from the roar +Of interests in our grim metropolis, +The beating heart of England and the world. +Not seen by me, since on that wondrous night +Her consolation came into my soul; +Yet here again I stand beside her tomb-- +And here I muse, more wise and not so sad. + + Hers was a gracious and a gentle house! +Rich in obliging nice observances +And famed ancestral hospitality. +A cool repose lay grateful through the place; +And pleasant duties promptly, truly done, +And every service moved by hidden springs +Sped with intelligence, went smoothly round. + + The steward to that stately country home +Looked native there as lichen to the oak. +He first held station, chief in care and trust, +That day which gave his baby mistress birth; +And her he loved as father loves his own, +Bearing her too that reverence which we feel +Toward those who, born to loftier state than ours, +Sit their high fortune with becoming grace. +His love she ever sumptuously returned +In bounteous thankfulness for service done: +How brightly twinkled then his shrewd grey eyes, +And shone the roundness where his honest cheeks +Played to the rippling gladness of his mouth! +In childhood rambles, it was mostly he +She chose for partner, spite of blandishment; +And to her winsome ways he would forego +His pompous surveillance of wine and plate, +To guard her, lilting, where the summer lay +On honeyed murmuring limes, and under elms, +August with knotted centuries of strength +And rooks sonorous in their shadowy heights. +By thymy slopes, foot-deep in sward they roved, +Both lightly garrulous, and she, sweet child, +Fusing her whole attention into joy, +Until they stood before the lake, that gleamed +With water-lilies, sun, and moving cloud. +Then straight the flanking sedge, and reeds remote, +Gave clattering ducks and wild outlandish fowl, +That tore in stormy scampering and splash +To snap with clamour at the crumbled bread, +He had provided slyly, bent on fun: +The swans meanwhile, majestic, puffed, and slow, +Came proudly into action; but alas, +To small result; for by mischance the spoil +Through dexterous skirmish fell to meaner bills. +"Our bread is all cast on the waters now, +And well I'd like to know how many days +It must bide there before 'tis found again!"-- +Some fool's dull joke repeated: good man, he, +Unversed in deep text comment, never dreamed +What time its Abyssinian mountain roots +Swollen by fresh torrents mixed in Nubian lands, +And thundered down from rocky ledge to ledge; +How sacred Nilus flooding bank and plain +Transformed old Egypt to a shining sea: +And slaves in swarthy crowds, despised as dirt, +Paddled upon the water scattering corn, +While swam to their sad eyes a raking glance +Of temple sphinxes, palms, and pyramids, +Faint sacrificial fire with dismal cries; +And small hard masters, armed with blooded thongs, +Jocose and fierce, scourged out their utmost toil. +Long ages ere man heard this promised hope, +THE FIRST SHALL BE THE LAST, THE LAST THE FIRST. +But the dear child his vacant prattle heard +In wonder, and believed it lore profound: +And ever after, when in solemn church, +(The very church I have before me now!) +Or household prayer, these words were touched upon, +Pert visions would intrude of gabbling fowls +Mid splashing water, sedge, and lily stars. + + In wending home, he filled her lap with flowers; +And she, ere yet the house was reached, unloosed +His guarding hand, ran forward, glinted through +The porch, and with a joyous outcry lit +The room, where sat in converse or at books +Her parents: then, as she an hour before +Had seen those mirrored marvels of the lake +All trembling merge to one confused turmoil +Of beauty broken into shattered light, +When o'er its surface swept the hungry fowls, +So blurred with shifting catches, so involved +Through eagerness, her babbled narrative +To the kind mother, who, embracing her, +Felt satisfied her child had been well pleased. +Then the great father, he would lightly lift +To knee his darling girl; with fingers cup +The tiny chin, and kiss the rosebud mouth; +And gently his large tawny hand would stroke +That woven sunshine glowing down her back, +Which changed to deepest auburn glossed with gold, +Calling her tricksy names. But, when at length +Appeared the calm inevitable nurse, +He laughed; and she in screaming laughter flew +By stalwart arm thrust high above his head +Immeshed in wild flowers emptied from her lap, +Which shaking off, he brought the screamer down, +And gaily swung her into willing arms. +She talked these childhood memories while we strolled +Among the scenes which bred them; for she loved +To dwell on things which some regard as slight: +But in her presence, told by her own self, +With clear apt words and satisfying voice; +The violet poise of her most graceful head +Flung forth in lighted gesture to reveal +The very fact; her hovering white hand +Almost in music warbling with her words, +And bounding all the tenderest care to please;-- +Now, one by one, these aits of memory glow +In hallowed splendour, and have made less dark +A life I feel not altogether vain. + + So common was her mother's lot, that who +Can say "Like is not mine" is blessed indeed: +For they are countless that on shades have thrown +Their passion had been chilled for evermore! +Scarce at her bloom, and years before she met +The destined man her husband, girl-like she +Adored a youth with sparkling genius graced, +Who bound on great adventure spread all sail; +But needed ballast, working common sense, +And meeting storms, he foundered and was lost. +For long his fate dragged at her heart; it drained +Her strength; it left her vague and desolate: +Her life became as chill uneasy dreams +Wherefrom we cannot break. Yet be it said, +Lowly and truly gentle were her ways; +She was a tender and obedient wife, +And in a sweet and plaintive graciousness +Her every act performed. I trust her mind, +Subdued by constant sadness unavowed, +Grew clear of shadows, and at last could dwell +Upon the future, that in one straight path +Reached Justice throned in everlasting light, +And learned to feel that chastisement is love. + Somewhat through lethargy; and partly sense +Of duty in forgetfulness of grief; +With pleadings due to her own kindliness, +She came to take another as her lord; +Then came to yield herself in all and wed +Her husband's own indomitable will: +He having gained her, cherished her, and loved +Her mild compliance with the strength of life. + + He was a man of thews and goodly frame +Made swart in battle. Under Indian suns +Our foes had often there been taught to know +That weight of arm, resistless when he closed +Charging upon them with his sword and eye. +But when his father died, he left the East +For England; here to rule his own estate, +And reign among the county gentlemen, +Who duly came with pride to own him chief. +He had the kingly look of born command, +An eagle set of eye and curve of neck; +A cutting insight backed by solid sense; +Vast knowledge, and the facile use of it, +To break obstruction, or direct the force +Of will resolved to compass every end. +Withal a broad and generous natured man +Who ever kindly turned the doubtful scale +Against himself: no tenant ever mourned +The day when the new master came to rule; +Nor were old village gossips heard lament +The good times fled with their departed lord. + Culture went hand in hand with strength in him: +Broad-versed was he in science; rock and soil, +Plant, shell, bird, beast, to complex form of man, +With something of the stars. Historic works +He mostly read; and ofttimes dug for trace +Of steps long past in archaeology. +He loved the singers of our native land +Who take our souls up to the worth of life; +And those deep thinkers whose conclusions show +The secret principles that work the world. +He prized laborious Hallam; but declared +Carlyle half mad; "A coil of restive thoughts, +That touch on nothing sound or practical, +Told in outrageous jargon, cumbersome +As any Laplander's costume!" Which I +In ruffled pride would always straight oppose, +"Sound or unsound, his word is daylight truth, +That breeding heroes once was England's boast, +And now we brag of making millionaires. +Your 'practical' means shortest cut to wealth: +But far too frequently purse robs the heart; +One growing heavy drains the other dry. +His style, poetically pregnant, oft +By note of admiration merely, hints +More than crammed Pro Con of your favourite's page." +At this he shouts a scornful roaring laugh, +The table shaking, and the vessels chinked +As fell his weighty arm: with massive gaze +In hurly-burly sort he bantered me: +"Young bubble-dreamer, plotting stanza rhymes, +What can you know of laws: what know of plans +Which bound these varied interests of ours, +Through crossing currents, fixed for certain ends, +To frame this state we call society, +The full outcome of immemorial time? +Know, here on earth wealth must not be despised, +For we are as we are. While men subsist +By interchanging goods and service, gold +Will be the grease that smooths the whole machine. +I grant a few, the greatest, live content +To give forth what has ripened in their minds; +But greed alone brings each result to grow +And spread its uses through the mass. Beside +Where honour, reason, or instinctive life, +Quite fails, there gold will prick the sluggard loon. +It wakes the drowsy lounger of the East, +Who lolls in sunshine idle as a gourd, +To toil like Irish hodmen. Roused, he hears +Coin ringing lively music; falls to work, +And digs, and hews, and grinds: he sees, not far, +Himself, a chief of horsemen richly clad, +Armed with long spears and silver-halted blades, +Seizing pachalic power by a swift blow. +But labour, having brought him gold, brings fears. +The weight of wealth has made his footfall staid; +He longs for order, settled government, +And stands, a stern upholder, by the law. + + "I know you flout this 'gold materialism,' +For what you call the 'gold of evening skies:' +But let me tell you, boy, for you 'tis well +My lands are broad and bankers true, or else +Your maiden, she, poor girl, I often think, +Would want a crust to eat and shoes to wear." +Thus he, in what I call his 'copper-gilt,' +For which I paid him tinsel; "She want shoes! +Her feet will press the flowers of paradise, +And, being angel, she will need no food." +"Eugh! Get your tackle, let us catch some trout." + She never stayed a long while from her home, +But lived a quiet life; contentedly +Taking the continent and many things +On trust; feeling our landscapes satisfied +Her love for scenes. When from a visit she +Returned, no lovelier picture ever blessed +My sight than when she swam into his arms, +And stood in beauty, frail, against his strength +Supporting her, and kissed his lips and cheeks +And brow. He then, as if his daughter yet +Were but a child, would press the upturned head +Between his hands, where peered the innocent face +Rosy with smile and blush, like a sweet flower +Bursting its tawny sheath: whereon he gazed +A father's gaze immeasurably kind; +And long, in tenderness akin to pity, +There held her, who was beautiful and good. +One eve full late in balmy summer time +We feared the wind breathing of night had chilled +Her tranquil mother, as we paced a walk +Leading espalier-trellised to the house; +She ever heedful parted silently, +And flushed with sunset vanished from our gaze; +But we beheld her soon dawn from the porch +In haste bringing her mother's mantle. When, +As comes the tide-wave up an easy beach, +Played with a billowy sound and look of foam +The thousand folds round her advancing feet, +Her shape divine looking as great as ocean's +Light beyond: yet no sea bird that gleams +From the blue-arched illimitable heaven +Could glide with lightness airier than she +To hang the garment round her mother's neck; +And then strike, womanlike, the folds in place; +Kissing the thankful lips, and deftly fix +The fastening at her throat. While pondering thus +And patching these rich fragments, strange it seems +What little things obtrude on my regard! +I now remember every sculptured group, +And painted scene, and portrait, figured vase, +Each print unique, and gem, we once beheld +When visiting a mansion near, enriched +By generations of collected Art: +The masters, by whose hands the works were wrought, +Long mouldered into dust. Ah, well I know +Why some have burned their symbols in my brain +And rise before me now! + Stone-bound, Narcissus +Droops melting in himself; and Echo by, +In shrunk despair, hangs envying what he wastes. +Through smouldering morning mists a glorious sun +The mountain-shoulder burns; above, transmutes +The zenith cloudlets into airy gold; +And deep down, seen through pure crystalline blue, +Glimmer the village, lake, and mountain range. +Superb at ease a Lady stands and smiles +Sweet welcome to the world: though centuries +Have lapsed since she approved her painter's work, +Her smile has such sincerity, all feel +They must have known her some time in their lives. +Here bossed on silver vase, a marriage train +Moves round to music: lookers-on cast flowers +Before the timid bending bride: meanwhile, +Stalwart and proud, her bridegroom smiles abroad +As at a dazzling sun: the pipers blow, +The harpers twang, the cymbals clash, youths sing; +Six maidens walk behind to hold her veil, +One pair are sad, the next look vain, and two +Prettily whisper secrets to themselves. +Here from old paper stands, and looks of men +The manliest, and king of English kings, +The lion Cromwell, in his dress of war: +Beneath him coils a monster welling blood, +Whose severed heads stretch round in scattered gleam +Of mitre jewelled, coronet and crown. +Sharp cut on gem, set in a thick gold ring, +The size and roundness of a lady's nail, +Love bleeding on the dart himself doth point; +Who thus had died, had not with tenderest touch +Immortal Psyche held the anguished heart +Fast to her own, and purified the pain, +And fanned him with her wings. + And now, as then, +Along those hushed rich corridors we moved, +Poring each masterpiece we favoured most, +And would no longer stay, but felt some chance +Must serve us for the rest: musing, I pass +From scene to scene of My Dear Lady's life, +And leave my other memories undisturbed. + + Beneath this airy sapphire's brooding rest, +Its shadows overcast me with a chill +Like coming storm, that black calamity +Which struck and took our Darling from their charge +And mine. Grief stupefied us all. At once +The childless mother lost her wavering strength, +And lay prostrated; never tasting life +On earth again! Beside her husband sat +And watched her fading; saw the last poor smile +Wane from her features; till the closing eyes +Lit into tearful rapture; when he knew +Love's immortality to her revealed. +With both her own she mutely clasped his hand, +And held it in most gentle pressures fixed: +But when the tender grasp relaxed and fell, +The world closed round him to a stony blank. + + And now was stricken down the mighty man; +As the ripe harvest levelled by a storm +At morningtide; which, ere sun warmth anew +Can flatter into strength, a second storm +O'erwhelms and scattereth to waste at even. + + When that torpidity which follows pain +Through strangeness passed to natural regard +For daily wants; his vacant home he loathed: +His spacious garden grounds; his lake; his woods; +The breezy air; the overhanging heaven, +He loathed: he loathed them all. When spring aroused +The amorous songsters of the copse and field +To seasonable joy, their music mocked +His sadness with its echoes, babbling tales +Of what had been: and he, in bitterness, +Resolved to quit a place where every turn +Stood like a foe, whose settled leering eye +In silence gloared with hope to mark his fall; +He left our country. Far, in Eastern climes, +His nation serving well, he fought and died: +And never had a nobler man upheld +The majesty of England's worth and name. + + Long toil-devoted years have gloomed and shone +Since these events closed up my doors of life. +Partly from choice, and part necessity, +With constancy have I sustained and urged +The work it was my duty to advance. +For, when my vision cleared again, I looked +And saw how mean a thing was man, who used +The produce of his fellows' energies +And gave back nothing. + + Then my spirit saw +This Island race two thousand years ago +In simple savagery, controlled by priests +More fell and bloody than the wolves that howled +At midnight round their monstrous altar-stones, +Scenting the sacrificial human blood. +Saw girt with legions lynx-eyed Caesar come +To taste of Briton's valour. When appeared +Legions succeeding legions, and the swarms +Marshalled by skilful discipline had fallen +To tributaries of all-conquering Rome. +Saw when Rome's grip, through fierce luxurious guilt, +Could hold no longer; and with tattered plume +Her eagles left her slaves to stem or tide +The hungry Pict incursions as they could. +Next when a burly genial race here raised +The White Horse Standard: men who wrought the soil +Till yellow corn, responsive, sunned the plains. +When, lured by booty, Ravens from the North +Bent hitherward: stiffly the contest tugged +Long years; till both the wearied champions joined +Their hands, as common home to share the Isle. +With peace the land grew fat; and wholesome bonds +Of nobles to their kings, and serfs to them, +Fell slackened or distorted to misrule; +When Norman William, hard as rocks and fierce +As fire, with charge of mailed horse and showers +Of steel, won England. Her rough sons he drilled +Grimly: by stern command and strength of sword +He forced obedience where he fixed a law. +For ages long against men's stubborn minds, +With give and take, the bold Plantagenets +Kept up the drill. At length the race, now grown +By constant wrestle into thews of power, +Moved calm with strength beneath the Tudor's sway. +And then a Northern Stuart wore their crown, +Whose son, unmindful he was over men +Truth-lovers, lied to them and lost his head; +For Puritans held no respect for lies. +Next flared Charles Satyr's saturnalia +Of Lely Nymphs, who panting sang "More gold; +We yield our beauties freely; gold, more gold." +Hapless explosions, folly, frenzied plots; +Till well coerced by Lowland William's craft. +Then plans that led to nought, or worse, enforced +By Marlborough's cannon thundering over-seas. +Then through the Guelphic line; our race now grows +To that great power which is to sway the world. + + Down from those human shambles, wolf-belapt, +To when, in pardonably grand excess +Of pity, through our people's will was bought +Free indolence for Isles of Western slaves: +And now, when thousands blandly would deny +The proven murderer his rope, the thief +Due chastisement; and when a General +May blunder troops to death, yea, and receive +His Senate's vote of thanks and all made smooth; +And when, as much from universal trust +In other states' goodwill as from the pinch +Of blinking parsimony, we our fleets +Let rot, and regiments shrink to skeletons.-- +From those fell rights to such urbanity +The march indeed is long; tho' kindly freaks +May sometimes clamour Justice from her throne; +Yet gentleness is still a noble gain, +And we will trust such freaks are nobly meant. + + To touch the power we hold, what work has been +Of vigorous brawn, and keen contriving brains! +Stout men with mighty battle in their limbs; +Thinkers, whose cunning struck beyond the strength +Of hosts; priests sworn to God, whose daily lives +Preached gospel purity and kindliness; +Wise chroniclers, whose patience garnered facts +For present want and food for coming time; +And dames who made their homes a paradise, +And kept their husbands great;--have greatly given +The light and choicest substance of their lives +For generations mingling each with each, +Wave multitudinously urging wave, +Toward the one great broadening flow of things, +Then passed into the gloom that swallows all. + + Could I dwell here in our proud Island Home, +Preserved by countless victories; made strong +By kings and kingly councillors; enriched +By artisans, whose skill surpassed all men's; +And by such wondrous song immortalised +It glorifies mankind: could I dwell here; +Here feed on this accumulated wealth, +Like senseless swine on acorns of the wood, +And own no wish to render thanks in kind? +Surely there could be found some waste wild flower +To yield one honey-drop that I might drain +To swell the general hive! + + At last resolved +Out to its utmost spray my force should strive, +And bring to fruit its yet unopened buds, +I, craving gracious aid of Heaven, straightway +Began the work which shall be mine till death. +If it be granted me that I disroot +Some evil weeds; or plant a seed, which time +Shall nourish to a tree of pleasant shade, +To wearied limbs a boon, and fair to view; +I then shall know the Hand that struck me down +Has been my guide into the paths of truth. + + And She, my lost adored One, where is She? +Where has She been throughout these dragging years +Of labour? + + She has been my light of life! +The lustrous dawn and radiance of the day +At noon: and She has burned the colours in +To richer depth across the sun at setting: +And my tired lids She closes: then, in dreams, +Descends a shaft of glory barred with stairs +And leads my spirit up where I behold +My dear ones lost. And thus through sleep, not death, +Remote from earthly cares and vexing jars, +I taste the stillness of the life to come. + +What time his scythe in misty summer morns +With cheery ring the mower whets; and kine +Move slowly, breathing sweetness, toward the pail +Their milking-maid is jingling, as she calls +"Hi Strawberry and Blossom, hither Cows;" +While slung against the upland with his team +The ploughman dimly like a phantom glides: +What time that noisy spot of life, the lark, +Climbs, shrill with ecstasy, the trembling air; +And "Cuckoo, Cuckoo," baffling whence it comes, +Shouts the blithe egotist who cries himself; +And every hedge and coppice sings: What time +The lover, restless, through his waking dream, +Nigh wins the hoped-for great unknown delight, +Which never comes to flower, maybe; elsewhere, +The worshipped Maid, a folded rose o'er-rosed +By rosy dawn, asleep lies breathing smiles: +Then ofttime through the emptied London streets, +When every house is closed and spectral still, +And, save the sparrow chirping from the tower +Where tolls the passing time, all sounds are hushed; +Then walk I pondering on the ways of fate, +And file the past before me in review, +Counting my losses and my treasured gains, +And feel I lost a glory such as man +Can never know but once: but how there sprung +From out the chastening wear of grief, a scope +Of sobered interest bent on vaster ends +Than hitherto were mine; and sympathy +For struggling souls, that each held dear within +A sacred meaning, known or unrevealed:-- +And these, in their complexities and far +Relations with the sum of general power +Which is the living world, now are my gain; +And grant my spirit from this widened truth +A glimpse of that high duty claimed of all. + How wildly flares the West about the sun, +Now fallen low! And as one, nameless, sails, +Lost deep in witching reverie, along +A silent river; passing villages +Busy with toil; flowered banks and shadowy coves, +And cattle browsing peaceful in the meads; +Who only wakes to consciousness, when full +A burst of sunshine from the sinking orb +Smiting the flood first strikes his dazzled sight;-- +So to the present hour am I recalled +By yon red sun-light flaming up the spire, +And vane that sparkles in the warm blue heaven +And that too-well-remembered tolling bell. + + Now on the broad mysterious ocean leans +The sailor o'er his vessel's side, and feels +The buzzing joys of home; wondering if fate +Will bear him on to end his being there. +Now pleased the housewife down the path descries +Her husband's footsteps hitherward; his meal +Prepared, the children each made tidy; she +With smiling comfort means to soothe her man, +By labour wearied, through the evening hours. +They whirl their life web, humming like a wheel, +These airy insects. Birds have ceased to sing, +But twitter faintly, settling to their rest; +And not a rook's caw rends the placid air. +I must begone; but ere I go, will kneel +To kiss this ivy--modest earthly type, +That would with constant verdure grace her name, +As I enshroud her memory with my love! +For She has been the blessing that has nerved +My strength in failing hours of blackest night, +When doubts oppress and fears distract; and when +Gigantic Evil's hoofs are crushing good, +And pity burns in terror; while, appalled, +Blanched Justice shrinks aloof; and not a voice, +The smallest, dares uplift itself against +The dripping blood-red horror which pollutes +With death and danger, heaven and earth and sea; +When men's belief grows wild, seeing alone +The dreadful black abominable sin, +Forgetful that the light still shines beyond; +And doubting last the very truth of God, +They hate their fellow creatures and themselves; +Groaning beneath a Despot, who thinks less +Of precious human blood, than shipwrights count +Of water in the dock, so many feet +Will bear so many tons, if it but aid +One little step his brutalising aims, +Who as an armed thief sacks his people's wealth. +Then shines my Love's star-brightness thro' the gloom; +And comes, as comes a glorious Conqueror +Returning from that Despot's overthrow, +His brow yet flashed and pale with victory: +Whose prowess long withstood the charging shocks +Of hosts that swarmed; who, baffling with his skill +Their cunning combinations, in good time +Closed his own force and wrought them utmost woe; +Smashed the huge liners of the hostile fleet, +Their swiftest frigates sank to watery hell: +Others he scared like fowls; and trailed the rest +In foamed victorious wake, a captured prize, +Where thronged his people stand in proud acclaim +Of "Welcome, Welcome, Welcome! To our hearts +O Saviour of thy country! to our hearts +O Father of thy people! welcome back!" +And shout in exultation his dear name; +Who moves through storms of music, and beholds +Gay seas of faces tossed with happiness, +And lit through rapture into wondering awe. +And as that grateful multitude forgets +Whatever wrong he may have done, do I +My scathing sorrow, and embrace the good. + + And when, in after years, that honoured One +Returns at last unto his native land, +From having wrought his last great victory, +A solemn corpse; in state his people close, +Solemnly to do honour to the dead, +And stand in silence, mid the mournful sway +Of martial music wailing he is gone +Who saved them from the shackles they abhorred; +And in all reverence, with tenderest hands, +And tearful eyes, and hearts that burn and throb, +They lower their consecrated Hero down, +Down sinking slowly to his lasting rest: +Whose glory rises to a settled star +Lighting the land he loved for evermore. +So comes my love to me: its glorious light +Yet hovers sacredly, and guides me on +To grander prospects, and more noble use +Of powers entrusted me. Henceforth my soul +Will never lack a spot whither to flee, +When crowding evils war to shake my faith +In righteousness: for thinking of Her life +Made up of gracious act and sweet regard, +Compassionately tender; and enshrined +In such a form, that oft to my fond eyes +She seemed divine, I scarcely can withhold +My wonder Heaven could spare Her to a world +So stained as ours. And now, whatever come +Of wrong and bitterness to break my strength; +Whatever darkness may be mine to know; +A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven-- +I have believed in worth; and do believe. + + +II. WORK. + + +Sweet is the moisture of the trellis-rose +Dripping in music down through glistening leaves; +And sweeter still its fragrance that we breathe +On throwing wide our lattice to the morn. +Sweet to see thrushes bright-eyed speckle-bosomed, +Search dew-grey lawns with keen inspective glance; +And rabbits nimbly nibble tender grasses, +Or pause when startled at each other's shade. +And when the orchard boughs bend low with fruit, +With joy we watch the mounded harvest wains +Glide amid singing hedgerows smoothly by. +'Tis fair to watch hung pale in milky azure +Mist slowly closing into wandering cloud +Driven by the clean and light elastic wind; +And through that lone harmonious sunshine hum +Of unseen life mark how the floating seeds +Pass like flown fancies out beyond regard. + + But sweeter than all roses, sights of birds, +Richer than fruit, more than whole lands of corn, +Fairer than glories of the brightest day, +Dearer than any old familiar sound +Of childhood hours, than every glittering joy +Thrown from the teeming fountain of the earth, +Is our impulsive answer to the call +Of Duty. + + They who would be something more +Than they who feast, and laugh and die, will hear +The voice of Duty, as the note of war, +Nerving their spirits to great enterprise, +And knitting every sinew for the charge. +It makes them quit a happy silvan life +For contest in the roaring capital. +And in its ever-widening roar stand firm +And fixed amid the thunder, foot to foot +With opposition, smiting for the truth. +To such the rage of battle charms beyond +The heaviest ocean-plunges dashed on cliffs, +The tempest's fury on the grinding woods, +Or elemental crashing in the heavens: +Beyond a lover's gladness when he feels +His maiden's bosom throbbing tremulously, +Beyond a father's when he feels in hand +The rounded warmth of little firstborn's limb, +Or in beholding him grown tall and strong: +And their delight will never wane, but wax +In greatness with the roll of time, and burn +More brightly fed with noble deeds. For souls +Obedient to divine impulse, who urge +Their force in steadfastness until the rocks +Be hewn of their obstruction, till the swamp's +Insatiability be choked and bound +A hardened road for traffic and disport, +Tall giant arches stride across the flood, +Till tortured earth release its mysteries +Which straight become slaves pliant unto man, +Till labours at the desk at length result +In law: who pondering on the stars proclaim +Their size and distance and pursue their course; +Who work whatever will give greater power +Or profit man with leisure to observe +The wondrous heavens and loveliness of earth; +Who will instruct him in the truth whereby +He learns to reverence more his fellow man; +Who point his spirit to the worshipping +Imperishable things, from which he comes +To scorn the fluttering vanities of wealth +As poisoned sweets and baubles should they dim +His eyes one instant to that awful light +Wherein he moves; who do and who have done +All that has ever aided man to free +Himself, imperfectly, from grosser self +And made his seeing pure:--such souls sublime +Will never want for blessed joy in work, +Working for Duty which can never die. + + Men may seem playthings of ironic fate: +One stoutly shod paces a velvet sward; +And one is forced with naked feet to climb +Sharp slaty ways alive with scorpions, +While wolfish hunger strains to catch his throat; +One lingers o'er his purple draught and laughs, +One shuddering tastes his bitter cup and groans; +But there is hope for all. Though not for all +To sail through sunny ripples to the end, +Chatting of shipwrecks as pathetic tales; +All are not born to nurse the dainty pangs +That herald love's completion, and behold +Their darlings flourish in the tempered air +Of comfort till themselves become the springs +Of a yet milder race: all are not born +To touch majestic eminence and shine +Directing spirits in their nations' sight +And radiate unformed posterity: +But through transcendent mercy all are born +To enter on a nobler heritage +Than these, if each but wills to choose aright +In serving Duty, man's prerogative: +Which is far pleasanter than paths of flowers, +Than warmest clustering of household joys, +And prouder than the proudest shouts of fame +That follow action not in conscience wrought. + + Fair Duty, most unlike the blight of death, +Whose dismal presence levels men to ruin, +Lifts up his nature into rarer life. +Hers is a broad estate open to poor +And rich alike: here rudest peasant may +Move as their equal with baronial lords, +And those who serve be great as those who rule: +Here a smirched artisan who merely bolts +The plates of iron fortress, breathes the pride +Of that trained chieftain who commands its guns; +And one that points or fires a single piece +Claims honour with the mind who planned the war. + + Fair Duty, hard and perilous to serve, +Exacts devotion that is absolute, +Ere she reveal the heaven of her smile; +And gnaws with misery the traitor slave +Who having known her countenance and moved +At her behest relapses into sloth, +Or drudges serf to his own base desires:-- +Sworn knight, and armed with mail and sword of proof, +But coaxing brutish ignorance with praise, +And with the wasted hearts of honest men +Gorging the monster he went forth to slay. +But whoso faithfully reveres her law +As primal, and of every want supreme, +Making edged danger discipline his strength, +That changes hindrance into past delight, +Fair Duty dowers with her celestial love, +From which the mystic blessing glory grows: +And glory born of Duty is a crown +Of light. + + And all thus crowned illume their work +In splendour that no earthly eye may pierce, +And know that every seed they set, and stone +They fix, and truth they reach, unite to found +A well-planned city in a governed land +That rising babes high a Temple built +Firm in its centre to the praise of God. +And each beholds his labours glorified, +Alike the toiler at the desk, a king +Upon his throne, or builder of the bridge: +The desk in lustre shines a kingly throne, +The throne diffuses radiance like a sun, +The bridge spans death--a pathway to the stars. + +MARCH, 1865. + + + + +NELLY DALE. + + +Ah, Nelly Dale, nigh fifty years +Since you and I set out together, +Joyful both, as the summer weather, +That swarmed our pathway to the meres +So rich with blossom, and opulent +Successive honeysuckle scent, +It smiled a golden garden, gay +With flutter of insects all the way! + +The kine were white and smooth as silk +At Flowerdew's, where we went for milk +With jug and can. The can you bore +Jingled and tumbled when you tore +Your new frock striped with lilac, while +Crossing that high-built awkward stile. + +Leaving our cottage gates at noon, +Adown the dusty hill we soon +Turned in a water-alley, dry +As our discourse; for we were shy, +Speaking not till the double ranks +Of willows on their shadowed banks +Had closed us from the road, and we +Were all we saw and cared to see. + +As if let out from school we ran, +Until we settled stride for stride +To even walking, side by side; +And tho' to keep apart we tried, +The jug kept clinking against the can! + Once pausing in an upper path +That hemmed great pasture ribbed with math, +We saw the prospect openly +Melt in remote transparent sky; +Some fancy kindled, and I began +To whistle "Tom the Piper's Son," +Wondering whether, when grown a man, +I should remain to plod, or plan, +As others about had always done, +Or to some wondrous country stray, +Over the hills and far away! + But turning to your comely face, +The opened flower of native grace +That casts a charm on homely ways, +Your mother's boast, her constant praise; +Contented here, I hoped I might +Be never from my darling's sight. + +Ah, me, our young delight to roam +Along that lane so far from home! +Laughter, and chatter of this or that; +Ripening strawberries, mice and cat; +The birthday near; the birthday treat, +With something extra good to eat, +And currant, cowslip, elder wine, +As real lords and ladies dine! + +Equal delight our silence next; +Making-believe that you are vext, +When swooping round to kiss you I +Tumble your bonnet all awry, +And promptly you the strings untie +To set it duly straight again; +How smartly twinkle ribands twain +To bows, turned sidewise in disdain, +Till by your nimble fingers fixed +They settle amicably mixed! + Moments of mutual mute surprise +Made converse of our glancing eyes, +As we went onward, all things seeming +Strange, and rich, and fair, while dreaming +Transient glimpses of what alone +Is ever by great-winged angels known. + +We knew not whether you or I +First saw the splendid butterfly +Trembling about us as we turned +To watch how blue and crimson burned +In flashes 'twixt those blushing wings! +Nelly, I see you watch the lark +That fluttering high, aspiring sings; +We both watch till our sight grows dark, +And wonder whither he is fled +In sapphire ether overhead. +Tho' vanished, still his rapture rings +And thrills our bosoms, marching slow +Our winding way; when brilliant, lo +From somewhere starting, re-appears +Our friendly butterfly, and nears +A spider-web, in holly spun +With rainbow hues that net the sun, +Making coy circles ere he alight +Entangled in the toil of death! +Forward I spring, without my breath, +To see the fiend, high-elbowed, whirl +Around those limbs and wings, and twirl +His thread to thwart the chance of flight. +Fate on a single instant hangs, +And ready the demon's eager fangs +To penetrate that sylphic breast! +Nipping the wing-tips gently I +Flirt him from danger suddenly; +Strike with my cap a rapid blow, +Dashing the enemy down below +Thro' grass crushed safely into dust. +There shivering on my stretched forefinger +A little while his terrors linger, +Doubting if yet his wings to trust, +Ere, with a bolder flap or two, +He flutters into airy blue. + +Could any mortal boy resist, +When heavenward, in a rosy pout +Your lips you offered to be kissed; +Fresh as carnations breaking out +Of dewy sheaths, on summer dawns +Yet pale upon the misty lawns! + We pass from shadowy splendour soon +To face the blazoned afternoon, +Where wide around the basking sun +Lies on the meadow fast asleep. +Near random bushes, one by one, +Nestled around a pond, the sheep +Are scattered and doze in graceful shade; +And hazed cornfields beyond the glade, +Undulating and dazzling sight, +Seem quivering for predestined flight +To worlds of unrevealed delight. +In lustrous sheen, their stately looks +Sedate as parsons reading books, +Flock grey-billed, see-saw-gaited rooks +Strutting; or when they wings assume +Pluck the warm air with fingered plume, +Labouring, anxious if weight and size +Make flight most hazardous or wise! + Nelly we sauntered on and on +By hedgerows, brightly overhung +And sprinkled thick with snowy showers +Of woodbine stars; where bindweed flowers +Ample and moon-white nobly shone, +And over green abysses slung, +Mid honey-haunted sound of bees, +Swayed lightly to the scented breeze. + + In passing starwort's silvery gems, +By maple's warm fawn-tinted stems, +Caprices that gnarled the oak and thorn, +A sudden scream of rageful scorn +Startles us from the hedgerow nigh; +Whence two disturbed fierce blackbirds fly +Uttering threats of vengeance dire! +While we, who lit this angry fire, +Are wondering such discordant throats +Can tune those soft melodious notes +The fondest lover's listening ear, +At even, turns entranced to hear! + +But if I sang of every sight +That afternoon which gave delight, +Those treasures would my numbers throng +Beyond the compass of my song; +Therefore, Nelly, to be precise, +We bought the milk, and paid the price +Charged in that rural paradise. +The rolls of butter, the jars of cream, +Churn, and cleanly pans, now seem, +Thro' fifty years of vanished time, +The memories of a nursery rhyme; +Or story, like The "Babes in the Wood," +Written for children to make them good. + +Homeward we went in soberer mood; +Haply the weight we had to carry, +By stile and gate oft made us tarry +To change our hands, and ease the weight +By making both co-operate. +At length we knew the hour grew late, +Because we saw our shadows rise, +Mocking our motions, thrice our size; +And keeping faithful phantom pace, +Tempting us to an elfin race +For fairy treasure; all in play! +For which, whatever they might say, +We knew our lives would have to pay! + Both breaking into prattle showed +How pleased we trod the dusty road +Once more; and rested where the rill +Sings issuing, halfway up the hill; +Where maids and wives their pitchers bring +To fill, and gossip at the spring. + To gossip ourselves we durst not stop, +As we had yet to reach the top +Where, starting from before the moon, +Our church spire quickened, rose, and danced +Higher and higher as we advanced, +And on a sudden ceased, as soon +As we were on the level; then, +There your mother stood at the gate +Impatient we were out so late; +Inquiring how, and why, and when; +She thought we had been drowned, and lost, +And by some savage mad bull tossed; +So long had she been looking out! +Whatever had we been about? + Altho' we saw so much that day, +But little then had we to say, +And told her a bewildered tale +Of garment torn by splintered rail; +Of spiders, blackbirds, butterflies; +Of rooks so near that looked so wise! +Of ghostly shadows, some of the way, +That had been tempting us to play, +Tho' sure they must have known we should +Be making all the haste we could! +The gentle scolding given and past, +We bade each other good-night at last +When floating in the stillness by +Came sounds like "late," and "supper," and "bed;" +And brighter through a deepening sky +A million stars shone o'er my head, +And bats flew fast and silently. + +When memory wings her way to you, +I nurse my faith to think it true +For one day, Nelly, you were mine! +Ah, Dearest, had that day divine +Made us two one for good and all! +The nursery words I now recall, +Of Tom the Piper's Son's one tune, +Mused over in that day of June, +Have proved the prelude to my fate! +We were not fashioned to translate +Each other's will as man and wife: +And tho' I was not broken-hearted, +As Burns when from his Mary parted, +And fled the fragrance of his life; +Yet are you near and dear to me! +For on the bridge below the hill +I see you smile as sweetly still; +And in your clear wide-opened eyes +The spacious wonder of the skies. +While every thoughtful dainty grace +Rests well contented in your face, +All fascinations of the rose, +Uniting in your presence close. +Indeed, from glowing hair to feet, +So lightly poised, shaped so complete +You seem a being 'twixt a flower, +The glory of a shining hour, +And one ordained to satisfy +The claims of immortality. + +Your beauty, like a queen's or king's +Good word, gives price to common things: +That can your ruddy fingers hold +Hangs lovelier there than purest gold; +And, as the poor, grown rich by chance, +Run raptured in extravagance, +My fancy riots in the fields' +Increasing wealth its charter yields: +And at your lintel, by the bower +Of vine leaves screening noonday heat; +The grapes, that hang there small and sour, +Are soft in bloom and more than sweet! + + Beholding kittens as they play, +Black, tortoise, white, or silver grey; +Or ducklings on the water glide, +Yellow and soft, and artless eyed: +Or neatly-shapen chicks astray, +Pecking incessantly on their way; +Each such a trim completed creature, +In perfect movement, hue, and feature: +A foolish sadness makes me sigh +They lack immutability. +But you, my Nelly, are ever young. +Fresh and happy you dwell among +The brightest flowers, and flourish where +Meadows are ever fresh and fair. +As you were then I see you now, +Standing beneath an apple bough; +Your face amid its blossoms, bright +With rosy laughter and delight, +You seem a blossom the partial sun +Has chosen to make a larger one. + +What may your pilgrimage have been, +Since both of us lost our Eden days, +I never rashly tried to glean; +And know not if your childhood ways +Were trodden by your maiden feet +When, flushed and shy with hope and fear, +You went your loitering swain to meet +And listen to sounds you loved to hear! +But if sometimes your heart was fain +Along our honeysuckle lane +Again to roam, in gracious flight +Your memory would have found delight +In wandering there a child again! + And if a matron you became, +With a matron's worries and daily strife; +The pain and sorrow, the hurt and blame +Mixed with pleasure, of being a wife, +I know not. But of this am sure, +That if with daughters you were blessed, +They found your bright example lure, +Thro' ways by wisdom proven best, +And sympathetic, generous trust +To kindly conduct more than just. + If old experience yet holds true, +And by a generation's lapse +Your daughter's child resembles you, +Then by that happy law perhaps +Another Nelly may be seen +To grace some other village green; +As native there as morning dew; +Or larks aloft, when lost to view +They lift us thro' the trembling blue +To soar with them in ecstasy; +Or primroses, whose welcome faces +From sunny banks and shady places, +Tenderly glimmer in pallid gold +Caught as early morning broke, +When, dreaming daylight they awoke +Enamoured from the moistened mold. +And if a Nelly, tho' changed in name, +Her fair endowments will the same +Point every grace that charmed before +Thro' unrenowned ancestresses, +Then still there beams a joy that blesses +The traveller by your cottage door; +Who, pleased in after years to trace +Remembrance of your playful face, +May linger on your presence while +Before him still you turn to smile. + +NOTE. + +The two portions of "My Beautiful Lady," entitled "My Beautiful Lady," +and "My Lady in Death," were written in 1849, and published on the 1st of +January, 1850, in "The Germ," a magazine which ran to only four numbers. +"Dawn," and "My Lady's Glory," were written about the same time; but all +the other poems were written between 1857 and 1861. The first complete +edition appeared in 1863; the second in 1864; and the third in 1866. + +"Nelly Dale" was written in 1886. + +T. W. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. NELLY DALE*** + + +******* This file should be named 17574.txt or 17574.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/5/7/17574 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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