Cornell University Library PR 6005.A98S6 1901 Songs and ly'CS' Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013594852 SONGS AND LYRICS IN UNIFORM COVER AD ASTRA. By Charles Whitwokth Wynne. Crown 8vo. 6s. net. Tenth Edition. SONGS AND LYRICS BY CHARLES WHITWORTH WYNNE ^ THIRD EDITION LONDON GRANT RICHARDS 9 HENRIETTA STREET 1901 Copyrighted in the United States All rights reserved Edinburgh : T. and A, Constablk, (late) Printers to Her Majesty TO GLADYS NOTE This edition has been revised and re-arranged. Nine new lyrics have been added, whilst eight of the earlier poems are withdrawn. Til CONTENTS PAGE INVOCATION TO THE MUSES . . . . i Awake ! ye tuneful Nine, and sing THE SPRING MINSTRELS 3 Hark ! how the welkin rings THE LITTLE ARCHER 8 Deftly the little Archer plies PHYLLIS 10 'Tis not that my Phyllis has sun-laden hair SONG 12 All my longing, since first I beheld thee THE STAR OF HOPE 14 Love is not Love that can admit despair X CONTENTS PAGE ESTELLE i6 Like a diamond on a roseleaf when the rain has gemm'd the flower THE WHITE POPPY 19 Like a shimmering poppy, robed in white lANTHE 21 lanthe ! could thy name express ATTAR OF ROSES 23 Like the petals of the Rose TELL HER, SWEET THRUSH ! .... 25 O thou sweet bird in the hazel tops NATURE AND ART 27 Nature and Art in Her combined THRO" THE PASS OF LLANBERIS .... 28 You ... at the end of the valley FLAVIA'S FAREWELL 30 If love were all, then might not thou and I HER PLEA . . 32 Say you love me ! — speak it softly CONTENTS xi PAGE HAVE WE NOT MET 34 Have we not met, and must we weep MY SILVER MOON .36 As the moon puts on new lustre WITHERED HOPES . . . . . .37 Last night my heait was as a. fading Rose SHE WHOM THOU LOVEST 38 O heart, my heart ! REJECTED 40 You cast my soul to the four winds of heaven THE RING-DOVE 41 'Mid beechy umbrage, bosky dell TO MAY 43 May, like a maiden soft and fair TWILIGHT 46 O mystic Hour ! when day and night THE GAME-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER . 48 ' Georgie, whom do you love best ? ' xii CONTENTS PAGE THE COTTAR'S SONG 50 Here the birds still chirp and twitter DAWN FIRES 52 I have ask'd you the simplest question WE LOOK BEFORE AND AFTER . . .55 Pleasant it is, when woods are green TO WINIFRED 58 The Syrens alone might tell you LOVE'S GOLDEN PILGRIMAGE .... 60 To one who loves, all things are beautiful LOVE'S WELCOME 62 Hark to the spirit voices from Love's sphere ! LOVE'S ONENESS 64 If I had loved thee less, I had been free LOVE'S SLEEPLESSNESS 66 I can no more mine eyes to sleep compose LOVE'S BITTERNESS 68 Why should I love, where others would despise? CONTENTS xiii PAGE LOVE'S RULE 70 How soon hath sped this golden summer day ! MAN'S TOIL 72 Each man would wish to be his own good-master GUARD THY HEART ! 73 Guard thy heart ! as tho' thy Lady FORGIVENESS 75 ' Must I forgive till seven times seven ? ' MORNING HYMN 77 Now the golden morning shines TO A VICTORIAN KNIGHT 80 It is not for the dints upon your shield SORROW'S THRONE .... .82 Why are friends like summer showers EVENING AT SEA 83 A perfect night ! — a night of calm at sea ON DEATH 84 Why shouldst thou fear, since Death must come? xiv CONTENTS PAGE AN EQUATORIAL SUNSET 85 The sun has set, and sea and sky are blending DEATH OF TENNYSON 86 Mourn, all ye Nations, mourn ! for he is dead PEACE 88 Thou gentle Dove ! sent out to warn mankind ENGLAND 90 Be just and generous ! Fear not Thou VICTORIA 91 Her reign : how shall we reckon it ! THE ABBEY OF ST. MARY, IN FURNESS . . 93 Seven Henries sought thee thro' four hundred years SUNDOWN 94 The noises of day come out distinct and clear TRUTH 96 A will-o'-the-wisp that ever evades the sight SONGS AND LYRICS INVOCATION TO THE MUSES Awake ! ye tuneful Nine, and sing The budding glories of the Spring, Awake ! and sweep each sounding lyre, Breathe on the strings celestial fire ! Euterpe first, with her soft flute. Shall bid. the whistling winds be mute. And after her let each in turn Reveal the thoughts that inward burn! And you, ye Nymphs, that haunt the grove, Whose only hardship is to love, Who all night long in revel gay Prolong the scenes ye shun by day, INVOCATION TO THE MUSES And, circling round your Fairy Queen, In sprightly dance rejoice unseen, Awake ! and let the Chorus bear Your blended voices thro' the air! 1890. THE SPRING MINSTRELS THRUSH Hark! how the welkin rings, Trembling with glee! Hark ! how the Mavis sings, Changing his key! Bird of the dapple-gray ! Thine is the sweetest lay, Whistling from fragrant bay, Happy and free. THE SPRING MINSTRELS BLACKBIRD The Blackbird's piping call Rings on my ear, Its accents seem to fall Both far and near — Yet, with how true a note The quavering stanzas float ! I would I had by rote The half I hear 1 LARK Queen of the azure sky ! Whose dew-lapp'd home, Green blades, or wheat, or rye Serve for a dome — THE SPRING MINSTRELS Soaring, with spiral flight, High o'er the realms of sight, Wrapt in thy song's delight. Where dost thou roam? LINNET List! how that gentle lay. Sweetly refined. Warbled from tender spray, Floats on the wind — Hopping from tree to tree, Filling my soul with glee, Linnet, thy melody Is wondrous kind ! THE SPRING MINSTRELS ROBIN What ails thee, winter bard, Melodious Robin ? Was that the voice I heard When winds were sobbing? Hast thou some vain regret That holds thee in its net ? Surely the Spring can set Thy heart a-throbbing! THE ROOKS Cradled in sunset glows, Rock'd by the storm, Far from their fellest foes, Happy and warm — THE SPRING MINSTRELS Love in community, Strong in Love's unity — Dawn's importunity Is Evening's calm. ALL Ye Poets of the air! Ye that can fly, Ye all have gifts most rare. Ye all must die — Then sing while sing ye may, And sing while lasts the day. Praising this Season gay And God on High! i8go. THE LITTLE ARCHER Deftly the little Archer plies His shafts of light — Thou canst not hold him in disguise, He lurks beneath those summer skies, And revels in his victories Till set of night. And Love and Laughter hide and seek Where lilies vie — They chase the sunbeams o'er each cheek, And ripple low, like waves that break Upon the shingle of a lake Until they die. THE LITTLE ARCHER 9 And Love hangs trembling on thy voice, Entrancing soft — The Love that crowns a maiden's choice, The Love that makes a heart rejoice, The Love that hears none other voice Save that of Love. 1890. PHYLLIS 'TiS not that my Phyllis has sun-laden hair. Those long, flowing tresses that lovers declare Are the first of Love's charms, and the breath of its air, I love her. 'Tis not that my Phyllis has wonderful eyes, Whose depth is the ocean, whose zenith the skies. Whose harmonies wake in the kingdom of sighs, I love her. 10 PHYLLIS II 'Tis not that my Phyllis is sweet as the Rose, When the dews of the morning its freshness disclose, Or as it more fragrantly sinks to repose, I love her. 'Tis not that my Phyllis is tender and kind, That self is abandon'd — and others may find That the charm of all charms is the charm of her mind, I love her. Then why do I love her? — Can any one tell? And why should this maiden all maidens excel? — With Her is my Heaven, and with Her is my Hell! 1891. SONG All my longing, since first I beheld thee, My lips in three words would convey, But to speak them might breathe of dishonour To one whom I would not betray. Oh, what if I never may tell thee. And die with the burden I bear! Wilt thou value the friendship I gave thee. The silence that cost me so dear? 12 SONG 13 And so in our hearts we must cherish The knowledge that makes life divine, And, when in the dawning we perish, God mingle thine ashes with mine ! 1895. THE STAR OF HOPE Love is not Love that can admit despair, For Love was born of Hope, and Hope is fair — With that bright Star to guide him on his way, No life were loveless, tho' Love say him 'nay.' What tho' the World may pass him by with scorn, Life without Love were surely more forlorn ! He, who has look'd upon Love's guiding Star, Knows that it never sets — but burns afar! 14 THE STAR OF HOPE 15 Tho' Love shall never here his guerdon find, Love leaves his own sweet recompense behind, For but to love — is to forget the while Earth and its sordid cares in Heaven's blue smile. 1895. ESTELLE Like a diamond on a roseleaf when the rain has gemm'd the flower, Like the first faint flush of sunrise stealing over stream and tower, Like the palest light of evening, darkly- deepening every hour, So are thine eyes, true love, to me. Like the soft and fleecy treasure of a child's bright golden hair. Like the whiteness of the hawthorn when the summer months are near, 16 ESTELLE 17 Like the warmth of tender nestlings zoned within a mossy sphere, So are thine hands, true love, to me. Like a brook that purls and ripples ever with a silvery sound, Like the chime of distant sleigh-bells tinkling over frosty ground. Like a soft-string'd Stradivarius, breathing on a spirit wound, So is thy voice, true love, to me. Like the tints that fall at sunset on a cloud- let's drifting snow, Like the flash of crimson streamers when the Alpine ridges glow, Like the blossoms of the almond, like the petals of the sloe, So are thy cheeks, true love, to me. B i8 ESTELLE Far beyond all Poet's dreaming — far beyond his Heaven, his Hell, Far beyond all depths of feeling — far beyond what lovers tell, Far beyond the voice of Conscience, whispering that thou didst was well, Such is thy smile, dear love, to me. 1895. THE WHITE POPPY Like a shimmering poppy, robed in white, With sashes and bows of golden green — A very woman of soft delight, Yet moulded as the flowers have been ! Within her eyes the palest blue Bespoke a mind to calmness given, A soul in which a man might view The very sanctities of Heaven. And when she smiled, it seem'd as tho' Pale shadowy moonbeams sought her lips. And scatter'd there an argent glow That never suffereth eclipse. 19 > THE WHITE POPPY And those soft hands that lie superb Upon the foldings of her gown, O beating heart, how can I curb The folly they would make you own ! For I would hold them in despite Of any protest she might make, Until I felt their warmth requite The love I ventured for her sake. Till, warm'd with secret fires, I feel Her reddening lips droop nearer mine. And life upon its axis reel With kisses that are more than wine! lANTHE Ianthe ! could thy name express But half the love I feel for thee, Why, from my voice, thou then might'st guess How very dear thou art to me ! No other homage would I pay. But simply breathe again thy name — A thousand things it seems to say That thee, and thee alone, proclaim. For in thy presence there doth flow A music that is passing sweet : All other notes are lost below Until within thy name they meet. 21 22 lANTHE And, whether by the brooklet's side, Or by the shallow, murmuring weir, In the soft hush of eventide. Thy name alone floats on ray ear. Or, in the silence of the night, If thy dear name my sleep invade, I wake to clasp a brief delight — I wake to find the vision fade. ATTAR OF ROSES Like the petals of the Rose, When the dews their scent disclose, Soft as velvet tho' they be. Fragrant of the Dawn and thee, Yet thy lips are sweeter far Than all garden Roses are. Once I thought my life supreme, Bedded in a Rose's dream — Scent of Attar on my lips, Nectar that the brown bee sips. Yet I never knew before What sweet scents thy lips could store ! 24 ATTAR OF ROSES This, above that carmine wave, Was the soft response they gave, Fading fast before my touch, Never yielding overmuch! Now I have no peace of mind Till thy lips again I find. TELL HER, SWEET THRUSH ! O THOU sweet bird in the hazel tops, Piping high, piping low, piping clear! O thou sweet bird in the hazel tops. Pipe to me of my dear! Thou canst make love to her better than I, Thrush, oh. Thrush of my heart ! Blending thy notes with the blue of the sky. Whilst the cloudlets drift apart. Call to her now from the fields of thy grace. Name her by wood and stream ! Tell her, I long to see her face Within the moonlight gleam. 26 TELL HER, SWEET THRUSH! Tell her, sweet Thrush, of the grief that has lain For six long months at my breast. Tell her, sweet Thrush, of my endless pain — Of the agony of unrest ! And if, of her grace, she would pity give — Pity from her heart's core — Tell her, by that one word I'll live, And love for evermore. One only mate in Life's wilderness! One only maid for me! Oh, when will my darling's lips confess What I 've confest to thee ! NATURE AND ART Nature and Art in Her combined To make a perfect shrine, Where one may bare the spirit's brow To worship the divine! 27 THRO' THE PASS OF LLANBERIS You ... at the end of the valley, Storm-wrack and cloud before — Thro' the wild pass of Llanberis To the gleam of a southern shore. So, thro' the gulfs of sorrow, Thro' anguish of heart and mind, One only hope to my journey, One haven of peace I find. 28 THRO' THE PASS OF LLANBERIS 29 Yet, if that hope should fail me, That home in the valley fair. Alone, 'mid the wastes of the mountains, Must I wrestle with despair! FLAVIA'S FAREWELL Suggested by the ' Prisoner of Zenda ' If Love were all, then might not thou and I Seek out some plot of Earth before we die, And live and breathe into each other's being The happiness which seems beyond our seeing ? If Love were all, then might I take thy hand. And wander with thee into Fairyland: How poor soe'er thy lot, no cloud could be Too great that did encompass thee and me. If Love were all, then on that all I 'd cast My life, my honour, all that Fame holds fast; 80 FLAVIA'S FAREWELL 31 For but to be enfolden in thine arms Were rich reward for all a maiden's charms. But Love is only Love when it doth bind Hearts to themselves, with Godhead inter- twined — If I should yield, my love, and fly with thee, Could I believe that God had smiled on me? HER PLEA Say you love me! — speak it softly, Breathe once more the whisper'd vow, Look into mine eyes, and tell me That you never loved till now. Let me feel your arms around me, Hold me ever closelier prest, Life has no diviner greeting, Love no holier place of rest. HER PLEA 33 Raise once more the cup of passion To my aching lips anew, Let me dream that I am fading Into Heaven's eternal blue. HAVE WE NOT MET Have we not met, and must we weep Because our paths divide? Have we not pass'd from steep to steep Upon the mountain side ? — Our sun, if we had never met, In passionless content had set. Have we not met, and can we find No antidote to pain? Are thought and memory both resign'd? Doth nothing sweet remain? Thou wouldst not we had never met. And thou been spared this wild regret? 31 HAVE WE NOT MET 35 Have we not met — what wouldst thou more, The paradisal flowers? If Fate should not our love restore, Eternity is ours ! — And in those happy fields are set The long, lost hours of our regret. MY SILVER MOON As the moon puts on new lustre In the blackest of the night, So thine eyes with deepening splendour Flood my darken'd soul with light. 36 WITHERED HOPES Last night my heart was as a fading Rose, Which in an Urn of Tears I did dispose : When Dawn look'd down from out her pearly throne, The Rose was left, but ah ! the Scent was flown. 37 SHE WHOM THOU LOVEST O HEART, my heart! Why tost in tempest throe? She, whom thou lovest. Cares not for thy joy, Cares not for thy woe, Then let her go ! O beauteous Truth ! Why is thy heart so wrung? She, whom thou lovedst, Is false to thee and thine, Is false to me and mine, Then why repine? 3S SHE WHOM THOU LOVEST 39 O kindly stars ! Why shed thy tears for her? Or is it mine own blinding pain That sees tears in thy glistening rain ? Oh, join with me to forget ! Leave not a way for regret ! And yet . . . and yet! . . . REJECTED You cast my soul to the four winds of heaven, You hurl me, passionate, upon the sea of life — And all that I in love have madly given Comes back to me in strife! THE RING-DOVE 'Mid beechy umbrage, bosky dell, 'Tis there the Ring-dove loves to dwell. And, when the fiery noon is high. Croon softly to the sapphire sky. Like plashing waters heard at even, In which the sunset lights are riven. His mellow voice is soft and cool As moonbeams on a silent pool. Not here the upward-soaring lark With quivering throat can pierce the dark ; The Nightingale might sing in vain Within the Ring-dove's hush'd domain. 41 42 THE RING-DOVE Thy song is like a summer dream Beside some gently-rilling stream — A vale where quiet hearts may rest And in Love's sanctity be blest. Amid the lush and waving grass, I watch the shadows as they pass, And in thy leafy covert find A solace to my wounded mind — That Life is short, and Art is vain : All unpremeditate thy strain! That Love is long, and Virtue sure, And wedded bliss is more and more. TO MAY May, like a maiden soft and fair. With pink-white blossoms in her hair, Came tripping thro' the verdant mead, With lightsome heart and frolic tread. To her came lovers, old and young, Whom wintry griefs had kept from song, To pay once more their votive vows For all the wealth her grace bestows. The Cuckoo, too, his note doth raise In one incessant song of praise, 43 44 TO MAY And little birds from tree and bough Her, Queen of all the months, allow. The Chestnut and the Hawthorn vie Whose blossoms shall outmatch the sky, Where soft and fleecy clouds unveil Their blueness to the Nightingale. Now mounts the Lark on quivering wing The treasures of his heart to sing. And flood the hollow vault of Heaven With music not to mortals given. Dame Nature in her softest gown Doth greet the darling as her own. And, with a mother's loving heart, Doth press those tender lips apart. TO MAY 45 Maiden of Months ! to thee I bring This little tribute of the Spring — Content, if in thy smiles I see A glimpse of what thy love might be ! TWILIGHT O MYSTIC Hour! when day and night Seem spell-bound with the fading light, When hill and valley, dale and grove, Bespeak none other voice but Love. Recumbent on her couch of pine. With languorous grace and dewy eyne. The Queen of Heaven^ doth now unfold Her fatal beauty limn'd in gold. Whilst on the air the bat's bent wings Add witchery to earthly things, • The Planet Venus. 46 TWILIGHT 47 As, sailing with uneven flight, He mocks the shadows of the night. Now doth my spirit feel a part Of One, Great, Universal Heart — The bond of fellowship at least 'Twixt Man and Nature, bird and beast. THE GAME-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER (Kate Bolt, aged eleven, in charge of her little brother) 'Georgie, whom do you love best?' ' Kittie ' — is the quick reply : Baby lips are wildly prest. Little arms are flung on high. Georgie's love, I fear, will fade, Sissie's too will some day wane : He will claim another maid, She some simple, loving swain. 48 THE GAME-KEEPER'S DAUGHTER 49 Yet to me their tender loves Bear the seal of Heaven's impress, When the spirit swiftly moves At a little maid's caress. D THE COTTAR'S SONG Here the birds still chirp and twitter In November days, Meting out the sweet and bitter In the life they praise. London streets may brim with morsels, Dainty bits and fine, But for them the cottage door-sills. Ruddy light and shine! Better half a crumb with gladness In the light of day, 50 THE COTTAR'S SONG 51 Than a feast, with pale-faced sadness Brooding o'er the way! Let me feel the warmth of Heaven, As it purely flows — Feel that it is freely given. Straight from God's own brows ! Not for me the City's glamour, Its adulterate wine — Hectic flush, and noisy clamour Of a World supine. DAWN FIRES I HAVE ask'd you the simplest question That my soul in its want could conceive, And you treat the question lightly, In a world of make-believe. You would have me say that I love you Ten thousand, thousand times, But only the stars give answer, In soft, unchanging chimes — The chimes of my spirit's fancy, Ringing my heart's desire, 62 DAWN FIRES 53 But never a word that would set me free From the doubts that burn like fire ! For seven long years have I waited, Trusting the clouds would break, And your spirit dawn upon me The brighter for Love's sake ! But now I am none the wiser Than when Love first began, And still the old fire goes smouldering on With a hope I cannot span. Perchance, when this voice is silent, The answer will come too late, And only the wild winds echo The sadness of our Fate ! 54 DAWN FIRES For, if in my life I loved you, ■ My death shall more than prove — That never for us shall open The pearly gates of Love ! WE LOOK BEFORE AND AFTER Pleasant it is, when woods are green And winds sing soft and low, To sit beneath the budding Thorn With venturous thoughts aglow. Thus, in the morning of our life, We sing of Hope and Love, With health and energy before, And cloudless skies above. But, when the woods are sere and brown, The land in furrows laid, 6S S6 WE LOOK BEFORE AND AFTER How soon the Spring-tide is forgot, How soon the Hawthorn's shade ! So, in the evening of our days. With Hope and Love foregone, We reck not of the sun and showers- The paths we loiter'd on. We wander in a world distraught. Proscribe the biting East, Forgetful that the sap will rise To bring a richer feast. Ah, but the feast is not the same ! Those half-averted eyes Will fill with tears of vain regret, As other Springs arise. WE LOOK BEFORE AND AFTER 57 The Autumn now has more of Hope, As mellow'd with our age, The eyes once more are forward bent. We turn another page. TO WINIFRED (Aged Eighteen Months) The Syrens alone might tell you The Land whence my Lady came, Or the days she took to travel Over a sea of flame. She came with the early Dawn, Before the stars were set, The roseate streamers lighting The gold on her coverlet. But now . . . can I tell the wonder. The Love that has come to me, In the light of the bluest eyes That ever smiled out of the sea ! 68 TO WINIFRED 59 Such treasure of golden floss, In strands of drifting ore! 'Twas spun by a faery hand, By the light of faery lore. Her smile is a flash of the Dawn, Before the morning breaks: 'Twould scatter the dullest clouds That ever the East awakes! Such tiny hands and feet, Such mimicking words and ways ! And, oh, for that childish prattle, When the heart, itself, betrays ! For to thee, thou little Innocent! The world cannot help but be kind — But, the larger the heart, the greater The sorrow it needs must find ! 1895. LOVE'S GOLDEN PILGRIMAGE To one who loves, all things are beautiful ! — Love colours every thought, and on his wings Doth bear those tender, sweet imaginings That stir the soul to depths most dutiful. The merry clamour of the bells at Yule, The Cuckoo's trumpet-call, when first it rings On unaccustom'd ears . . . and other Springs Fade fast before the mind's bright vestibule . , . Are messengers of Love, but Love has more Than all the wealth of Nature can bestow^ 60 LOVE'S GOLDEN PILGRIMAGE 6i For he who loves, has of Love's boundless store A heart, a mind, whose riches overflow, And, in the light and wisdom of Love's lore. Perceives in Nature things unseen before. 1891. LOVE'S WELCOME Hark to the spirit voices from Love's sphere! Sweet close to this melodious summer night — Softly the song floats on from height to height, And every voice is eloquent of Her! Can this be night, the darkness is so fair! My Hall of Love is lit with crystal light, If so my Lady shall my watch requite, And earth and sky a richer radiance wear! Shine on for ever o'er this heart of mine, Ye night and stars, and Thou who lovelier art LOVE'S WELCOME 63 Than what my wildest fancy might portray ! Entwine thy hallow'd glory round my heart, And so encloud me, till I swoon away, A victim to the Love that is divine. 1891. LOVE'S ONENESS (To a Lady who complained that others were neglected for herself) If I had loved thee less, I had been free To smile when others smiled — to hope, or fear. And lend to each such silent sympathy As well might prove a friend was listening near. But, loving thee, I have no eyes to see What others see, or feel as others feel — I have no thoughts that are not part of thee, And all my sweets from thoughts of thee I steal. 61 LOVE'S ONENESS 65 By day, by night, a presence everywhere, Thy mirror'd loveliness in all I find. In others' griefs I am not fit to share, Who cannot turn from thee my steadfast mind. Thus loving thee far more than aught beside, I've lost my friends, and thou dost merely chide ! 1891. E LOVE'S SLEEPLESSNESS I CAN no more mine eyes to sleep compose, And thou alone sweet cause of my unrest! Yet think not I would drive thee from my breast, Tho' ne'er again I might mine eyelids close. Whilst thou hast closed thy petals like the rose. And, safely shelter'd in thy little nest. Art dreaming of a love thy tears caress'd, Unconscious of thy lover and his woes ! Oh, would that I might tend thy lovely sleep. And guard the passage of thine incensed breath ! — LOVE'S SLEEPLESSNESS 67 To dwell upon thy breast's entrancing steep Were all of Heaven, and too much of Death — The heart that once had beat so near to thine Would stop for aye, when sever'd from its shrine ! 1891. LOVE'S BITTERNESS Why should I love, where others would despise ? Why idly hope thou still may'st love me best ?— When every act doth wear a bold disguise, And other friendships seem to stir thy breast ! And yet, to look but once upon those eyes, So darkly beautiful, so purely true, I, for my doubts, can but myself chastise. Who could of thee such bitter thoughts review ! Have I no cloak of hauteur, or of pride, That I must fall to thinking foul of thee? LOVE'S BITTERNESS 69 Shall jealous fears in my strong love abide? Or is there estimate of love in me? No, tho' mine eyes should tell me thou hadst lied, I 'd tear them out to prove thy constancy ! 1891. LOVE'S RULE How soon hath sped this golden summer day ! This day for ever sacred in our eyes, That first reveal'd to us far dearer ties Than any we have held 'neath Friendship's sway. Neither will lightly let it pass away, And, as a thought long fondled never dies, The memory of it shall renew our sighs When other youthful joys have known decay. So shall we blissfully from life decline, Knowing that we have tasted to the full 70 LOVE'S RULE 71 The cup that other lips have deem'd divine — The cup we drain'd in nectarous draughts and cool ! And may Love's rosy garlands here enshrine The Day we first submitted to Love's rule! 1891. MAN'S TOIL Each man would wish to be his own good- master — Freedom the distant goal to which he strains. 'Tis strange such energy should court disaster, Since he is happiest who last attains ! 72 GUARD THY HEART! Guard thy heart! as tho' thy Lady Hung her costliest jewels there — Tho' a thousand fiends persuade thee, Yield not to the fleshly snare! Let thy hand be firm and steady, Let thy heart be stout and true, Let thy feet be ever ready, Tho' the Master's calls be few. Every thought of self abandon'd, Every passion lull'd to rest, 73 74 GUARD THY HEART! Every insult kindly pardon'd, Every angry word repress'd, Thou may'st rend the veil asunder, See thy Master face to face ! In thy life reflect the wonder Of so fair a dwelling-place. And, when age to youth succeedeth, Each fond memory shall appear Like a voice that sweetly pleadeth, Whispering words of love and cheer. 1891. FORGIVENESS ' Must I forgive till seven times seven ? ' A voice within me cried, ' As thou wouldst hope to be forgiven,' A Voice within replied, And this my only hope of Heaven? — O Lord, Thou know'st how hard I've striven To conquer all my pride ! And must I turn each smarting cheek. And kindly make reply? My arm is strong — my faith is weak. And storm-tears cloud mine eye. 75 76 FORGIVENESS 'Beyond his strength is no man tried, That Voice within again replied, And Victory is nigh!' And have I but the hour withstood? Revenge, a welcome guest ! And shall this second, fiercer flood O'erwhelm my battling breast? O let me feel Thy Presence near! Thy words of Love alone can cheer, Alone can bring me rest. 1891. MORNING HYMN Now the golden morning shines, Let us each be up and doing, And, when daylight swift declines. May it find us still pursuing ! Each hath his appointed sphere. Hands and brain alike achieving. Crowning all the fleeting year With new beauties of his weaving. Tho' the labour of his hands Seems but to enrich another, 77 78 MORNING HYMN God, above him, understands He is helping on some brother, Who, of frailer mould and form. Other purposes fulfilling, Else had perish'd in the storm, Laying by God's task, unwilling. Tho' in mines he delve all day. Gloom perennial surround him. Every blow emits a ray From the spot where Duty bound him. Never let the heart repine, Tho' thy toil seem unavailing : Every labourer's work's divine, Never canst thou speak of failing! MORNING HYMN 79 Art, and Science, Medicine, Law, Into unknown realms extending. From thy steady purpose draw Glorious triumphs, never-ending. Every labourer's worth his hire — Known to each his heart's devotion — Every spark of burnish'd fire Swells the tribute of the ocean. TO A VICTORIAN KNIGHT It is not for the dints upon your shield That tell of prowess in the ensanguined field, For which our pure and princely Arthur gave That badge of Honour — Knighthood to the brave. Nor yet like those great rovers of the main, Who curb'd, and crush'd the mighty fleets of Spain, And, with the wisdom that her statesmen drew, Made good Queen Bess's Knights both brave and true. 80 TO A VICTORIAN KNIGHT 8i No, greater than all these ! Victoria's Knights Their Sovereign's love in wider fields requites — It is the power of brain, not of the sword. On which they base their title to reward ! SORROW'S THRONE Why are friends like summer showers, As fresh as they are fleeting? Why are friends like all sweet flowers That die within the greeting? — The sweetest sweets the soonest cloy, Our dearest hopes deceive us, And so with Friendship's fitful joy, It only smiles to grieve us! 1891. 82 EVENING AT SEA A PERFECT night ! — a night of calm at sea, In all its grace and all its purity, And not a sound, save where the glittering spray Falls off in emerald furrows round our way. Myriads of little stars, divinely fair, Come shimmering thro' the vestures of the night, And Venus in her loveliness is there, Enthroned Queen of all those realms of light ! Now, from the furthest disc, comes peeping forth Diana, in her chastest robes of snow. Pale as the daylight in the frozen North, Yet full of sympathy, as lovers know, For, as she mellows with each darkening hour. Their linked hearts confess her gracious power. 1891. 83 ON DEATH Why shouldst thou fear, since Death must come? Why, Mortal, shouldst thou fear the tomb? Thou canst not one sweet minute gain, Nor stay the Hand that stilleth pain ! Then bravely meet the silent Foe, — If Foe He be, Who ends thy woe, — For at the worst Forgetfulness, And at the best great Happiness Will minister to thy distress, And make the parting less and less ! 84 AN EQUATORIAL SUNSET The sun has set, and sea and sky are blending In tints of purple, amaranth, and gold, While fretted clouds, that stretch in line un- ending, New harmonies of light and shade unfold. Like Sappho's cheek with love incarnadined, The Western main is deepening every hour — Till from the distance comes the soft night wind Delicious numbness on the sense to pour. Bringing forgetfulness of place and time — When lo ! from out the waves, apparell'd bright, In all her witchery of golden light. Fair Venus rises radiantly sublime, And, 'mid the jewell'd splendour of the sky. Calls forth a tear from many a lover's eye! 1890. 85 DEATH OF TENNYSON (October 6, 1892) Mourn, all ye Nations, mourn ! for he is dead — The sweetest singer of our later choir, Whose thoughts were borne aloft on wings of fire, And Truth and Beauty left us in their stead. The last of all our prophets now is fled : Fled is the music of his magic lyre. The melody of half a world's desire — The yew and cypress wound about his head. Sunrise and sunset shall go fleeting by, And all the voice of Nature now be mute, DEATH OF TENNYSON 87 Since he, who loved them, leaves us but his lute. With none the master of its minstrelsy — Yet, in his life and death, what joy have we Who knew the tree, and tasted of its fruit ! PEACE Thou gentle Dove! sent out to warn mankind Of such a time when war shall cease to be, Yet ever to thy sheltering Ark dost flee, For nowhere can thy feet a foothold find. The air thou cleavest is with sulphur blind, While horrent shapes scud o'er the foamy sea. That bristles with a monster progeny : The clash of arms is borne upon the wind. O when wilt thou return to tell of fields Ripening with plenty! whilst the smiling lands Are bound by fellowship of hearts and hands — PEACE 89 No more the sword its bloody sceptre wields! Come to us from the realms where Heaven expands, And bring the leaf the tender olive yields ! ENGLAND Be just and generous! Fear not Thou That Kindness may be vain — The' Winter frown from bough to bough, The April buds remain. [anuary 1 90 1. 90 VICTORIA (Lines written on learning that the Queen's condition was hopeless) Her reign : how shall we reckon ,it ! By years, or by achievement? Her loss: how shall we season it — By tears of sad bereavement? God gave us, of His gifts to this fair Isle, A virgin Queen, proud and invincible ; God gave us too a Prince, to reconcile Her heart to Queenly Rule. Of their pure love, a noble progeny — O Sovereign Monarch, blest all Queens above ! — Three generations on that royal knee Have claim'd a Mother's love. 91 92 VICTORIA And if, too early in her life was known, The Sorrow that alone makes desolate: She stood as one, whom ages shall enthrone As ruler of her fate. To God she bow'd : and from His Hand she took The grievous chastisement of later years — Her faith in His Great Purpose never shook, 'Mid shattering hopes and fears. And now, she waits the Angel of His Peace, With happy eyes turn'd towards a happier morn. For never Soul long'd more for its release Than hers, so bravely borne! January 22, 1901. THE ABBEY OF ST. MARY.i IN FURNESS Seven Henries sought thee thro' four hundred years, But thou, for love, return'dst a vestal's vow: The Eighth first woo'd with calm and saintly brow, And then profaned thee 'mid thy suppliant tears ! 1892. 1 Built during the reign of Henry i., and destroyed by Henry vin., the so-called ' Defender of the Faith ' ! SUNDOWN The noises of day come out distinct and clear While children's voices break the muiifled roar That rises from the village. Evermore The babble of birds disturbs the dreaming ear. The ring-dove gurgles from a coppice near, The lark just flits above his wheaten floor, And tired of climbing seeks his nestlings four, Whilst swallows cleave the laden atmosphere. The bloom of fruit is on the distant firs, The valley fills with soft and filmy spray. The breeze just fans the face and dies away, And not a leaf within the forest stirs. 91 SUNDOWN 9S The sun goes down upon the throbbing air, And leaves the hills more silent than they were. TRUTH 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,— that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.' — Keats. A WILL-O'-THE-WISP that ever evades the sight, The nearer we get, the blacker grows the night, And he, who would grasp it, grasps but a reedy light. Whilst over his sinking shadow it dances bright ! Printed by T. and A. Constable, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press