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IS MEMORIAJI 
 
 OP 
 
 THE EEV. WILLIAM POMEROY OGLE, 
 
 CURATE OP THE CHURCH OP ST. THOMAS-THE-MARTTR, 
 
 BRENTWOOD, ESSEX, ENGLAND. 
 
 WHO, IN HIS SLEEP, ON THE MORNING OF LAMMAS-DAY, 
 
 AUGUST 1ST, 1884, 
 
 Passed into the sleep of death 
 From darkness into eternal light. 
 
 The morning shall awaken, 
 The shadows shall decay. 
 
 And each true-hearted servant 
 Shall shine as doth the day. 
 
THE VIGIL 
 
 '2, |)o£in 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 OF 
 
 JAMES M. B. DWIGHT 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION BY 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 31 West Twenty-third St. 
 
 1885 
 
COPYKIBHT, ( 
 
 1886, 
 BY JAMES M. B. DWIQHT. 
 
 PRESS OF J J. LITTLE & CO., 
 NOS. lo TO 20 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK, 
 
TO 
 
 PELHAM RHODES OGLE, 
 
 PONSONBT DUGMORE OGLE 
 
 AND 
 
 ST. JOHN CHALONER OGLE, 
 
 THIS POEM IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 IN AFFECTIONATE MEMORY 
 
 OP THE BROTHER 
 
 WHOM THET DEEPLY LOVED. 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 ^^"^jl^HE tidings of the sudden death, on August 
 1st, 1884, of the Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle, 
 the nephew of my wife, who tenderly loved 
 him, made a very deep impression upon her 
 mind and heart, and upon my own feelings. The voices 
 of this sorrow are found in these pages. 
 
 The impressive funeral ceremonies at Brentwood, here 
 transcribed, are a remarkable testimony of the love and 
 respect in which he was held there. These services, with 
 the solemn and silent journey through the darkness of the 
 night upon the railway ; in which his lifeless form was ac- 
 companied by the faithful and watchful attendance of his 
 elder brother in the carriage for the dead ; the moonlight 
 march along the river Teign to the church at Bishop's- 
 Teignton (two miles) ; the midnight service in the church 
 which followed; the silent and lonely watch of his 
 brother through the hours until the morning, beside the 
 beloved and stricken form ; the night's overshadowing 
 darkness gathering around the lighted altar and the 
 patient watcher ; these were the vivid and weird sugges- 
 tions for the Poem. And it has grown around them. 
 It has also been my purpose to illustrate the Divine 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 allegory of our holy religion and to glorify our blessed 
 Saviour in the mystic sanctity of the Altar and the Cross. 
 
 Those who are familiar -with the church at Bishop's- 
 Teignton, will observe that it has been transfigured and 
 aggrandized in my vision into the likeness and dimen- 
 sions of a great Cathedral, with vast spaces and lantern 
 tower, like Ely, or Burgos in Spain. The latter was 
 especially in my mind while writing. 
 
 Part IV., "The Midnight and the Morning," was the 
 nucleus of the poem, and was written first; the other 
 portions at subsequent times. 
 
 I have in several instances ventured to incorporate a line 
 from a familiar hymn or well-known poet, but always 
 with a diversion of meaning and some change of words. 
 
 For note as to the Versification, see page xi. 
 
 The following letter is subjoined by request. 
 
 '' August 18th, 1884. 
 
 " Dbak P : We were much distressed by your let- 
 ter, conveying the sad intelligence of your brother 
 William's sudden death. * * * William had a tender 
 and beautiful spirit; a character of the greatest delicacy; 
 to which religion was a native air and the solemnity and 
 dignity of holy worship a daily preparation for heaven, 
 and foretaste of the life of the blessed. 
 
 Such gentle and tender spirits our Lord has in his 
 special keeping, as the lambs of his flock. He tempers 
 the wind to their weakness; He leads them lovingly in 
 the green pastures; Hemakesthem to lie down beside still 
 waters, and feeds them among the liHes ; and when their 
 feet falter upon the dark mountains, He takes them in 
 
PREFACE. ix 
 
 His bosom and carries them safely through the wilder- 
 ness and over the dark river to the land of celestial light 
 and peace. 
 
 "How often they die young. How often the tender 
 aifection of the Lord remembers their earthly weak- 
 ness and their holy devotion, their fainting steps and 
 their heavenly aspirations; and in some hour un thought 
 of, by some path untried; by some subtile gift of death 
 and life, removes them from our sight. And the beau- 
 tiful spirit is on its far off viewless way before we 
 waken. Afterwards, when our sorrow is softened and 
 the new thought of his translation has grown familiar to 
 us, we begin to think how appropriate, how loving, 
 how wise and wonderful has been the manner of his 
 death. I believe our dear William had a good deal of 
 the fear of death, and his joyous spirit shrank, often 
 timidly, from the agonies of dissolution. The Lord did 
 not forget this and took him gently away out of the si- 
 lence of night and of sleep, to waken only in the ever- 
 lasting light when the bitterness of death was passed and 
 its pains were left far behind. Nor let us fear that the 
 Lord forgot to give him the precious Viaticum of his love 
 as he was borne away. 
 
 There is much in William's life and in the manner of 
 his death which reminds me of a beautiful Sunday which 
 I spent in the south of Europe. It was at the city of 
 Thomar in Portugal. Two miles outside the city was a 
 Pilgrimage church on the top of a high conical hill, and 
 called, as is their custom, a Calvary : where, as I 
 ascended, the sweet fields and fair city, the Church 
 towers and ancient castles, lay spread out before me ; 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 and upward, ' tlie stations of the Cross ' allure one on 
 along the Kedeemer's path to his last great sorrow. So 
 lay the world below to William's sensitive and art-loviiig 
 spirit. So the Stations of the Cross and his Saviour's 
 suffering drew him along the ascending path toward the 
 sacred shrine. Arouiid me that day went up in the soft 
 sunshine the people of the country ; some in gala dresses, 
 young men and maidens; others measuring on their 
 knees the sacred distance. So William's heart was not 
 without its gay bright hours in the soft sunshine, even 
 on his heavenly pilgrimage: but still his spirit went 
 resolutely upward, ever stopping and praying at the 
 holy stations, ever planting his steps in the footprints of 
 the Lord. 
 
 In the brightness of his youth, and overcoming his 
 mortal weakness. He has _ outwalked us all, and at last 
 has reached the Pilgrim Chapel and the high altar. In 
 holy trance he has fallen asleep before the altar; and the 
 Lord has appeared to him there, saying : " I come again 
 and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye 
 may be also." When we too reach the Chapel and its 
 shrine, we find that he has left his garment there beside 
 the altar and is gone. We knew that he has not descend- 
 ed; for we met him not. And then the thought comes to 
 us that he has gone upward and will return no more. And 
 while we wait and watch the sunset from the holy Cal- 
 vary, we know that he is already hidden in its pearly 
 bosom, and that the wings of his swift elastic spirit are 
 already far beyond its declining shadows. 
 
NOTE 
 ON iklE VERSIFICATION. 
 
 The portions of the Poem in blank verse, Parts II., V., VI., VII., 
 VIII., IX. ; also portions in rhyme, Parts IV., and VIII., are in the lam- 
 bio Trimeter of six Iambic feet. Part I., in blank verse, and Part X., 
 in rhyme, have seven Iambic feet. And in those above mentioned, an 
 occasional line of seven feet is allowed rather than sacrifice or curtail 
 the thohght. 
 
 The Iambic Trimeter allows an anapest to be substituted for an 
 Iambus in every place but the last. A Dactyl may also be admitted 
 in the 2nd and 4th place. Occasional use has been made of this liber- 
 ty for the sake of diversity and force. 
 
 On account of the length of the lines (13 to 14 syllables), an effort 
 has been sometimes made to give variety and vigor by having recourse 
 to the methods of the ancient Anglo-Saxon poetry, by alliteration, by 
 assonance and by double rhymes in the middle of the line, also by in- 
 troducing the principle of the refrain and by repetition of the thought, 
 as also by paronomasia. For the same reason, rhyme has been some- 
 times intermingled with blank verse. 
 
 The metre of Part III., " The Land of Avalon," is allowed much 
 variety, but with definite limitations. 
 
 It is sometimes sought to represent the sense by the sound of the 
 verse, as In the last eight lines of Part II.: where the aim is to repre- 
 sent the varied movement of the railway train, — its starting, its steady 
 roll, its hurried swiftness, its slowing and its stoppage. Part IV., 
 is a second example ; and there are frequent other instances of a simi- 
 lar kind. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface vi 
 
 Note on the Versification xi 
 
 The Proem (In Pace) 13 
 
 The Vigil, A Poem 19 
 
 I. The Sea-Bird's Flight 22 
 
 II. Brentwood 26 
 
 III. The Land of Ayalon 36 
 
 IV. The Port that is Heaven's Portal ... 46 
 V. The Midnight and the Morning 52 
 
 I. Db Profundis 53 
 
 II. Eesurgam 59 
 
 in. The Memorial Window 63 
 
 IV. The Angels of Adoration 67 
 
 V. Gloria 69 
 
 VI. The Miracle of Flowers 74 
 
 VII. The Melodious Grave 78 
 
 VIII. The Lotos Flower 84 
 
 IX. The Blessed Land Immortal 90 
 
 X. The Sea-Bird's Return 96 
 
 Appendix 101 
 
 I. Notice of Death of the Rev. Wm. Pomeeoy Ogle. 103 
 
 II. Funeral Services at Brentwood 105 
 
 Funeral Procession and Special Burial Services. 107 
 
 III. Dedication of East Window at Brentwood. . Ill 
 
 IV. Reopening of Luton Church 113 
 
 V. Letter 116 
 
 18 
 
THE 
 
 PROEM. 
 
IN PACE. 
 
THE PROEM, 
 
 IN PACE. 
 
 NTO the mother's shadowed heart ' 
 He came a tender star ; 
 Into the father's serious thought 
 A hallowed beam from far ; 
 
 Into the brothers' earnest plays 
 
 He came, a merry war ; 
 Into the household's reverent ways, 
 
 Of mirth a golden car. 
 
 With brow of high and lofty hope, 
 
 With eye of tender glow, 
 With cheek whose velvet crimson slope 
 
 Flowed o'er its Alpine snow ; 
 
 With heart that sang with childhood's joy, 
 With lips that laughed with love, 
 
 With gentle soul as bright as coy, 
 Love with his life he wove. 
 
 15 
 
16 THE PROEM. 
 
 A soft and silver radiance spread 
 Where that sweet star did shine ; 
 
 And purple-clustered reverence fed 
 That spirit's golden wine. 
 
 His boyhood's carol, bright and free, 
 Charmed every listening heart. 
 
 The ripple of his smiling glee 
 Of Nature's smile was part. 
 
 His eyes enchanted with the day, 
 
 With youth his sportive toy, 
 With temper beautiful and gay ; 
 
 Young, ardent, soulful boy ! 
 
 But soon the youthful folded years 
 
 Opened their lilied bloom : 
 And April thoughts, oft fraught with tears. 
 
 Came from life's gilded loom. 
 
 Delicate grace and fairy joy 
 
 Shed beauty o'er thy way. 
 And won men's eyes and hearts ; fair boy. 
 
 This was thy Spring-time's May. 
 
 But now religion's gentle voice 
 
 Spoke to his fervid June, 
 And bade that nature rare rejoice 
 
 In Jesu' s sweet attune. 
 
 The form erect with hallowed thought, 
 The eye with love's soft glow, 
 
IN PACE. 17 
 
 The cheek where tears with smiles had fought, 
 The lips whence prayer did flow ; 
 
 The heart with radiant meekness now, 
 
 Devotion's rhapsody ; 
 Unveiled the crowned and sainted brow, 
 
 The white soul's sanctity. 
 
 Transfigured by the Church's call, 
 
 He walked the shining way ; 
 Content to gain the blissful all 
 
 Within the eternal day. 
 
 The ministering angel's path he trod, 
 
 O'er the mount beautiful. 
 With golden light his feet were shod, 
 
 With love all bountiful. 
 
 The poor did bless his liberal hand. 
 
 The sad his waiting feet : 
 The sick, the infirm, beheld him stand 
 
 By mortal pain's dark seat. 
 
 The Church's holy service filled 
 
 His rapt uplifted soul ; 
 While hymns of praise with rapture stilled. 
 
 And centuried anthems roll. 
 
 The Eucharistic glory came 
 
 To his kneeling- ecstasy, 
 And fed, as with an Altar's flame, 
 
 His lofty litany. 
 
 3 
 
18 THE PROEM. 
 
 Silent he bore his secret cross, 
 
 His heart's faint agony ; 
 Folding within that earthly loss 
 
 Prayer's iinportunity. 
 
 So came the winged angel fair 
 
 Of death to his soul's light ; 
 Not in the gathering, brooding dark, 
 
 Not in the waning night. 
 
 Borne on the wings of summer's dawn, 
 
 He found the eternal day : 
 That tender star, with sister stars," 
 
 In glory passed away. 
 
 Not death, but life, thou gentle soul, 
 
 Doth lift thy wings away ; 
 While Angels thy new name enroll 
 
 Within the gates of day. 
 
 NOTES. 
 ' " Into the mother's shadowed heart." 
 Shadowed by the premonitions of her own last fatal Illness. 
 ' " That tender star, with sister stars." 
 See Part V. — 4. The Angels of Adoration. 5. Gloria. 
 
THE 
 
 VIGIL, 
 
 A 
 POEM. 
 
THE VIGIL, 
 I. 
 
T. 
 
 THE SEA-BIRD'S • FLIGHT. 
 
THE SEA-BIRD'S FLIGHT. 
 
 St was a summer's sultry night, in the season 
 that has gone ; 
 And in the restless visions of mj head upon 
 my bed, 
 My -winged spirit wandered from its mortal resting 
 
 place. 
 Into the world of darkness; over the wild waves' roar- 
 ing 
 And the trackless miles of night ; over the river Ocea- 
 
 nus, 
 Whereon Ulysses sailed to the pale land of ghostly dead ; 
 Over the meadows' where the oxen of the Hyperion Sun, 
 Do ever patient feed, beside the mystic river's dream ; 
 And all the spheric paths of day and night are equalized, 
 Still rolling on with confluent, faithful streams, for ever- 
 more. 
 Over the outspread night my speeding spirit swiftly 
 fled, 
 
 S3 
 
34 THE VIGIL. 
 
 To the sea-girded island, whence our fathers manful 
 
 came, 
 Over the long and solemn waves, but which to ns their 
 
 sons 
 Is lost as a mirage in the pale shadows of the dawn. 
 Over the infinite distance my spirit fleeting flew, 
 As a desolate sea-bird, and Avandered on the lonely 
 
 shore. 
 
 NOTE. 
 ' " Over the meadows," el seq. 
 See Odyssey, XII, and X, 86- 
 
THE VIGIL, 
 II. 
 
II. 
 
 BRENTWOOD. 
 
II. 
 
 BRENTWOOD. 
 
 JLL lonely on the sounding shore there wan- 
 dered far 
 The sea-bird's melancholy voice : so resonant 
 That shrill and ululating call, the breakers' 
 roar 
 Would hope to drown, in vain ; the haunted night's appall 
 Would fright it fruitlessly; the shipwreck's saddened 
 
 ghost, 
 Recumbent on its quicksand grave, would vainly scare 
 That waiting, wandering, boding, solitary cry.. 
 It waited and it wandered in the darkness drear; 
 It wandered and it waited in the silence dread. 
 It fervent flew from air to earth, . from earth to air. 
 From air to restless sea, and wandering waited still 
 The coming voice, the awe-some summons of the dead. 
 
 The chureh. Then Came to its ear attent a faint sad call, a 
 
 cry, 
 That drew its listening, quivering, quickening wings 
 away 
 
 27 
 
28 THE VIGIL. 
 
 To Brentwood's hallowed fane,^ beside the Eastern Sea, 
 Where the beloved dead was sleeping : Brentwood fair, 
 Whose lofty Nave ascended high into the heavens ; 
 Whose beauteous Altar pitying fed, with living bread. 
 The loving, waiting, thronging disciples of the Lord ; 
 Whose hallowed Choir held prisoned fast the serried 
 
 stalls. 
 Whereon were hung the honored vestments,' symbols 
 
 true 
 Of Priestly knighthood , Christ's soldier's armor, as he 
 
 moves 
 To holy war, and herald, in his Master's name, 
 Demands submission to the Cross he lowly bears. 
 
 The Home. Near to the sacred fane abode the early dead : 
 In the Rose Valley slept Crosse Lawrence, ' whence had 
 
 fled 
 The awe-struck soul, from earthly home to heavenly rest. 
 From duty's loving gladness, to the pure and blest. 
 In that sad dwelling, is a hushed and darkened room. 
 The pallid form in silence lies, heeds not the steely 
 
 gloom. 
 There passionate life its beautiful brief hour had filled ; 
 There the passionless Angel, Death, the silent form had 
 
 stilled. 
 Did the stars come out to watch the young life as it 
 
 ebbed away ? 
 Did the moon sad vigil keep till the dawning of the 
 
 day? 
 
BRENTWOOD. 39 
 
 Did the morn that was breaking o'er the still and sleep- 
 ing world, 
 
 To that shadowed room, bring the Angel of Light on its 
 wings unfurled ? 
 
 That lifted the fainted heart which death could no 
 more appall, 
 
 That opened the portals of heaven to that young spii-it's 
 call. 
 
 Domine, refagium. gjow moved the Saddened day, the slow 
 
 declining eve ; 
 When they that loved had come his memory to weave 
 With sacred sorrow, blessed tears, the Church's voice 
 In funeral service for the dead, the sainted joys 
 Of faith and love, the requiem, the hallowed peace, 
 The mourner's lengthened line, the aching grief's in- 
 crease ; 
 Came to the home deserted, solitary, coid ; 
 To bear the spirit's earthly form to blessed fold : 
 The holy Church, that held in life his life's long love; 
 In death, the dear communion with the saints above. 
 
 Tiie Procession. Hither from sad Crosse Lawrence in the Rose 
 
 Valley, 
 Slow trod the sacred train through the long avenue 
 Of mourning hundreds, weeping all that they should see 
 That bright smile nevermore. At the wan eventide 
 The long procession moves. In front the victor Cross 
 Its bearer lifts on high : Angel of grief Divine 
 
30 THE VIGIL.. 
 
 It leads to Love's abode. Beneath that bannered Cross 
 They bring the youthful dead, as on Patroclus' bier * 
 The Argive hero sleut and conquered conquering 
 
 death 
 In glory's hour. So comes the early dead, — in whose 
 Young saintly soul St. Lawrence' spirit waked again, — 
 Within the holy aisle where waits the elegy 
 Of love, the triumph song. Servant of God, well done ! 
 In front the brave Cross-bearer lifts Ms holy Cross on 
 
 high; 
 And next the white-robed choir its monody of love 
 
 recites 
 And mingles sacred joy in sorrow's sable folds. 
 The Church's clergy then with grief-bowed faces flowed 
 In reverend robes along. The Vicar,° father-friend, 
 And elder brother of the soul, mourns the departed, 
 And his bended head tells his heart's heaviness. 
 The holy vestments '' next, he wore in duty's call, 
 Are borne before that silent rest, that prostrate form. 
 Now slowly comes the dead ; The bearers' octave guards 
 That treasured grief, that hushed repose ; brings tears 
 
 to grace 
 Those gentle obsequies. The coifin's purple pall, 
 Lilied with fragrant flowers, leads the ecstatic thought 
 Of sacred grief beyond the purple-tinted skies 
 Of evening's softened hour, to the bright dawn of heaven. 
 Then, wearily, the brother dear moved slowly on ; 
 And, patient, crowned with sorrow's pearly diadem, 
 Pressed onward toward the Church's tender knell. 
 The broken Guild of the Ascension followed then, 
 
BRENTWOOD. 31 
 
 Their loved Superior," and his silence-anchored hour ; 
 And they in whispers sang, " The dead shall rise again. 
 The loved and lost ascend into the shining heavens." 
 And last came, sorrowing all, who loved the faithful 
 
 dead, 
 The gentle dead, who, as a Palmer Pilgrim goes 
 To his long home, Jerusalem the golden, 
 
 The City of the Blest, Jerusalem 
 The golden, where dwell the holiest. 
 
 The Via Dolorosa. As the Crusadcrs' lofty host, with banners 
 
 high 
 And hallowed hymns and trumpets' victor voice, doth 
 
 mount 
 The A'^ia Dolorosa, and unwind its proud 
 Array of knightly soldiers, princes, saints of God, 
 Along the ascending way to the Holy Sepulchre ; — 
 While the soft moon of Palestine looks down on Calva- 
 
 Blessing the still bright evening hour with stately pomp 
 Of funeral honor, to some knight, whose victor name 
 Valor hath writ in heaven, death has baptized in peace : 
 So in the twilight silence moves the sad array 
 Along the Hfted road, the hill of sorrow mounts, 
 That dauntless leads to Calvary's hour of peaceful rest ; 
 Their faithful hymn winds on the evening's gentle air 
 And mounts the glory of the sky, and blissful sings 
 At heaven's own gate, where enter in the golden host 
 Of Angels singing ever praise antiphonal. 
 
32 THE VIGIL. 
 
 The Requiem, go from Crosse Lawrencc in the Eose Valley 
 
 there came 
 The sacred train nnto the holy Chancel, where 
 The dead was gently laid before the blessed Altar, 
 Fronting the vacant stall and vestments " which once 
 
 held 
 His mortal form. Biit now, ««- garments of praise and 
 
 robes 
 Of glory, waited the morning ; as the white robes 
 Of glory, waited in joy the eternal morning's calm ; 
 Waited in joy the eternal land of morning calm.' 
 Above the young and lovely, the faithful unto death, 
 The " Lamb of God," "The precious Saviour," floated 
 
 high 
 On music's tender peal; "Brief life is here our por- 
 tion," 
 With " fom-fold litany,'' " Oh Death, where is thy sting," 
 "Oh Grave, thy victory ?" It ends, and once again 
 The organ's mighty thrill, touched by the Master's 
 
 hand' 
 Enthroned amid its majesty, gave the last requiem 
 To one he loved; then, prophet, voiced the soul's high 
 
 hope, 
 I know that my Redeemer liveth ; in my flesh 
 I shall see God. I shall behold my risen Lord, 
 In the white regnant glory of the latter day. 
 
 The Transit. The music's grand intone hath found its rest: 
 The broken benediction flowed o'er gathered throng, 
 
BRENTWOOD. 33 
 
 Waiting the egress of his final hour. Hence while 
 Their farewell floated on, life's mourning, parting song ; 
 Hence the pale form, uplifted, within its narrow home. 
 By gentle hands, by loving hearts was given ; and with 
 The lonely watcher by its side, was borne afar, afar ; 
 Swifter and more swiftly o'er the quick-fleeting distance, 
 While the miles melted, and the golden sunset paled 
 Into the patient shadows, and the timber night, 
 Dim, mourned and sorrowed into darkness. Thus as a 
 
 wind 
 Of night, onward that speeding train so swiftly came ; 
 With its pale watcher and its prison home. 
 With its freighted sorrow and its deep sealed silence, with 
 Its inarticulate message and its euphony of woe. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' " To Brentwood's hallowed fane beside the Eastern sea." 
 
 The Church of St. Thomas the Martyr, Brentwood, Essex : described 
 as " beside the Eastern sea," because its county, Essex, fronts the 
 German Ocean. 
 
 2 " The honored vestments." In the funeral train Mr. W. Larkin, 
 Treasurerof the Guild of the Ascension, walked directly in front of the 
 body, carrying the vestments of the deceased : and at the service in 
 the Church, hanging over the stall which was rendered vacant by his 
 death, were placed these vestments, a sacred memorial of his late 
 living presence. See Appendix, page 108. 
 
 ' " In the Eose Valley slept Crosse Lawrence." 
 
 The late residence of the deceased. 
 
 * " As on Patroclus' bier." 
 
 See Iliad, Book XXIII. 
 
 ' " The Vicar, father-friend, and elder brother of the soul." 
 
 The Rev. Charles Grinatead, Vicar of St. Thomas the Martyr, Brent- 
 wood, Essex. 
 3 
 
34 THE VIGIL. 
 
 « "Their loved Superior." 
 
 The deceased was the Superior of the Guild of the Ascension. 
 
 '" The eternal land 'of morning calm." 
 
 Chtbsan, which signifies " the land of morning calm," is the highly 
 poetical name, by which is known to the natives of the country .the pen- 
 insular empire which we call Corea. 
 
 ^ " The organ's mighty thrill, touched by the master's hand." 
 
 Mr. A. H. Brown — an eminent composer of sacred music, and the 
 friend of the deceased. 
 
THE VIGIL. 
 III. 
 
III. 
 
 THE LAND OF AVALON. 
 
III. 
 
 THE LAND OF AVALOK' 
 
 E comes, the youthful dead, 
 
 Whence thrilling life has fled: 
 He comes, the gentle Priest, 
 For his sad hour of rest ; 
 
 Devon. Jq the sweet vales of Devon, ' 
 Beside the western sea, 
 Where ever smiles the even, 
 And ever smiles the lea : 
 
 Where the soft southern waters ' 
 From far West;-Indian seas. 
 
 Bring tropic flowers to blossom 
 Within their halcyon breeze : 
 
 Where the Teign's rippling river,* 
 With flooding tide doth fill 
 
 The quiet vales with gladness, 
 Beneath the verdant hill : 
 
 37 
 
38 THE VIGIL. 
 
 The chnrch. Where holy Norman valor ° 
 
 Hath built its ancient church ; 
 The ruin's ivied chapel ° 
 Records its handiworks : 
 
 The Sunset. Where the sunset is sweetest 
 In all the western land ; 
 The smiling river speaketh 
 Of life beyond its strand. 
 
 The golden sunset utters voice, 
 The silver river mirrors joys ; 
 
 Of life's exultant, blessed land, 
 The other life's Elysian strand. 
 
 ^''landf^' That sunset Ipnd of beauty rare, 
 
 Where heroes breathe in heavenly air, 
 Where Arthur, peerless knight, has gone,' 
 The sunset land of Avalon. 
 
 The Eoyal Arthur floats away 
 In evening's, clouds to purple day, 
 Sailing in splendid argosy 
 O'er the enchanted, mystic sea, 
 
 To the new haven of eternal rest. 
 Where enter in the holy, pure and blest ; 
 The Port that is heaven's portal, 
 The blessed Land immortal. 
 
THE LAND OF A VALON. 
 
 Like Arthur floating to the west 
 Doth come young manhood's loveliest, 
 In gentle splendor floats away 
 Into the light beyond our day. 
 
 39 
 
 Avaion. go comes the youthful, saintly dead — 
 Life's longest half yet still unread — 
 The knightly priest doth hither come 
 Toward Avaion his Aidenn home. 
 
 The Conca 
 d'Oro. 
 
 The land that doth all lands excel, 
 Deep-meadowed, fair, with asphodel,' 
 And summer sea, whose golden shell 
 Parts holy mount from city's circling swell; 
 
 As at Palermo's stately side 
 
 St. Eosalie doth dwell; 
 And with its wavelets' golden tide 
 
 Guards the Saint's citadel.' 
 
 Here on the borders of that land 
 The youthful Priest doth silent stand. 
 
 Sweet fields Sweet fields bevond the swellins: flood 
 
 bevond. " o 
 
 beyond. 
 
 Wait, dressed in living green ; 
 The river's broad and shining rood 
 Is all that lies between. 
 
40 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Here the sunset is sweetest still " 
 
 In all the ■western land ; 
 The smiling river speaketh, still, 
 
 Of life beyond its strand. 
 
 Of Avalon the shadows bright 
 ■ In Teign's sweet vale are heaven's own light. 
 
 i-he Chancel Here in the Church's chancel shrine 
 
 Shnne. 
 
 The faithful dead and watcher come ; 
 The Norman Church's chancel shrine, 
 His gentle spirit's earliest home. 
 
 Nearest that holy shrine their tomb 
 Will ope for him its vaulted gloom, 
 Where the loved, kindred dead sleep well 
 Beneath the Church's pealing bell ; 
 
 The ivied Ruin's shadows wave 
 Above the flowers we call their grave : 
 And verdurous rest and heavenly peace 
 Doth speak the joy of life's release. 
 
 Hymn of The shadow of the marble Cross 
 
 The Cross. ^ 
 
 Mirrors its image on the moss ; 
 
 Imprints the seal of Jesu's love 
 
 On the green turf that grave above. 
 
THE LAND OF AVALON. 41 
 
 The Cross uplifts its sacred form 
 Beneath, above, beyond the storm. 
 Its patient arms embrace the dead, 
 Symbol of love o'er death outspread. 
 
 Like Guardian Angel it doth wait, 
 Eeposing at the solemn gate 
 Of life eternal, life Divine ; 
 As at thy tomb, dear Lord, recline 
 
 Thy patient Angels, waiting Thee, 
 Waiting till Thoii from death art free ; 
 Till Easter's glory fills the tomb. 
 And light Divine disperse the gloom. 
 
 So the dear Cross, with guardian care. 
 Doth watch the tranquil sleeper there ; 
 "Waits for the coming of the dawn ; 
 Waits for thy victory, Easter morn! 
 
 Thou Cross so watchful. Cross so dear, 
 Emblem of faithful Saviour near. 
 Guard thou our graves until the morn. 
 Until we wake at Easter's dawn. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 • " The Land of Avalon. " 
 
 This is written, Avalon and also Avilion by Tennyson. In differ- 
 ent editions of the Morte d'Arthiir of Sir Thomas Malory, it is 
 spelled, Avilion and Aveloune. Amid this variance I have followed 
 the spelling of Mr. Herbert Coleridge, whicli seems to have the most 
 authority and best critical usage. 
 
42 THE VIGIL. 
 
 * " To the sweet vales of Devon." 
 
 " The sweet county of Devon. Its valleys are like emerala ; its 
 threads of water stretched over the fields by their provident husband- 
 ry, glisten in the broad glow of summer like skeins of silk." 
 
 D. G. Mitchell. 
 " Sweet shire, that bounteous Nature richly dowers; 
 Sweet shire, whose glens and dells are fairy bowers; 
 Sweet shire, whose very weeds are fragrant flowers. " 
 
 ' " Where the soft Southern waters " — 
 
 An allusion to the Gulf-Stream and the mild climate of Devon, 
 where the myrtle and fig grow in the open air. 
 
 *" Where the Teign's rippling river" — 
 
 Which enters the sea at Teignmouth ; for several miles from its 
 mouth a broad tidal estuary. No one, who has seen it, will easily forget 
 the extreme beauty of the view from the Church and Vicarage over 
 the broad and shining river and the western hills, or the sunsets 
 which irradiate and enshrine the scene with a peculiar glory and in- 
 evitable suggestion of the better land. 
 
 '"Where holy Norman valor 
 
 Hath built its ancient Church " — 
 
 The ancient Norman Church of St. John at Bishop's-Teignton, dates 
 from about 1337-69 A.D. A large portion of the Church however is 
 much older than this date, and belongs to the period of Saxon archi- 
 tecture, fiays Lysons, Magna Britannia, vol. VI. -. 
 
 " The mast considerable remains of Saxon architecture in Devonshire 
 are the twp square towers of the Cathedral of Exeter, built by Bishop 
 Warlewast, and the Churches of Bishop's-Teignton and East Teign- 
 mouth, both of which appear to have been built about the same time, 
 (A. D. 1107-36). The Tower of Bishop's-Teignton is square and of 
 massive construction. The west door exhibits the richest specimen 
 of Saxon architecture in Devonshire, with grotesque heads, chevron 
 and other mouldings. The south door has a plain circular arch, on 
 the transom stone of which are some kneeling figures rudely carved. 
 Many of the windows of Bishop's-Teignton are obviously of later 
 date, long subsequent to the erection of the Church, probably about 
 the 14th century, at which time the North Aisle appears to have 
 been added. The Chancel belongs to the 14th century. 
 
THE LAND OF A VALON. 43, 
 
 Fonts. — Among many of circular form and. an early age, enriched 
 with various carved mouldings, wreaths, scroll work, or foliage, may 
 be enumerated those of Ashcombe, Bideford, Bishop's-Teignton,, etc. 
 
 * "Ruin's ivied cliapel " — 
 
 The ivied ruin of the ancient Lady-Chapel, which overhangs the 
 rear of the Church and the family tomb. 
 
 1 " Where Arthur, peer! ess knight, has gone. 
 The sunset land of Avalon." 
 
 This conception of King Arthur sailing away in his enchanted ship 
 over the mystic sea is the glorious close of the Arthurian legend, 
 and here it ceases, as the royal vessel vanishes from sight. I have 
 ventured to add to the legend the new picture — ^his arrival at the Sun- 
 set Laud, 
 
 " To the new haven of eternal rest. 
 
 Where enter in the holy, pure and blest, 
 The port that is heaven's portal. 
 The blessed land immortal." 
 
 and a thought which I have not found elsewhere, of the entrance 
 to the harbor of Palermo, as a piciture and shadow of that blessed ha- 
 ven where the royal galley enters to its rest. When I beheld that 
 wonderful bay with the circling swell of its golden strand, the 
 " Conca d'Oro," Its glorious mountain on the right crowned by 
 the pilgrimage church of St. Bosalie, and its stately city fronting our 
 eager vessel, it rose before me as a beautiful dream and exquisite 
 image of the entrance and haven of the Land of the Blest. 
 
 Says Goethe : " No words can express the a&rial brilliancy which 
 floated around the coasts as we approached Palermo. The clearness 
 of contour, the softness of the whole, the tender blending of tones, 
 the harmony of heaven, earth and sea — he, who has once seen it, pos- 
 sesses it for life." — Translation ly Mrs. AvMin. 
 
 8 " With asphodel "— 
 
 An allusion to the asphodel meadow on the Elysian shore. 
 
44 THE VIGIL. 
 
 '" Saint's citadel "~ 
 
 Here is a douWe-entendre — It is botli Saint's and Saints' — ^both. the 
 citadel of St. Rosalie, and the citadel of the land of the blessed. 
 
 " " Here the sunset is sweetest still 
 In all the western land 
 The smiling river spealteth, still, 
 Of life beyond its strand." 
 
 Here is a new sort of rhyme — Still, in line one, means Yet, in line 
 three, Tranquil. The same word is used but with different meanings. 
 
THE. VIGIL. 
 IV. 
 
tv. 
 
 THE PORT THAT IS HEAVEN'S PORTAL. 
 
IV. 
 
 THE POET THAT IS HEAVEN'S POKTAL. 
 
 50W the fierce steed has rested ' that bore the 
 mourning train, 
 The watcher and his burden Tiave reached 
 their land again, 
 The muffled bell doth drop its pearly toll along the road. 
 The dying moon doth wait till he draws nigh his last 
 abode. 
 
 The steady-tolling bell doth gently lure him on ; 
 The guardian of his youth, it calls him to his own. 
 Tell, silent Spirit ! tell, Doth that sad bell control 
 Thy measured fainting steps toward that eternal goal ? 
 
 Each toll doth lure a step, each fainting step a toll, 
 And ever mourns the tolling bell the passed soul. 
 While midnight darkling wide draws near with fateful 
 
 power. 
 And the Teign's waning tide doth softly pulse the hour. 
 
 The mourners' steps of sorrow press o'er the lessening 
 
 mile. 
 Till they have left their burden within the sainted aisle. 
 
 47 
 
48 THE VIGIL. 
 
 With level song triumphant along the holy rood, ' 
 They bear their fainted burden to where in life he stood, 
 In joyful litany of stately praise, 
 In childhood's bliss of happy holidays. 
 
 The sad procession cometh along the peaceful aisle. 
 Laden with whitest flowers, heaven's gentle pitying 
 smile. 
 
 I am the Resurrection and the Life, 
 
 Rises soTl upon the air : 
 Blest are the dead that die in the Lord, 
 
 The youthful and the fair. 
 
 The Church wakes at his coming, and with radiant light 
 And sacred prayer and blessed hymn and holy rite. 
 Receives the parted soul in benediction sweet 
 Of loving arms. The sad and speechless form, replete 
 
 With death, she guards, and giveth the beloved sleep : 
 Then fervent prays the Lord the silent soul to keep. 
 Her lowly prayer shall watch through slowly-speeding 
 
 night, 
 Her living love hath wings to guard the spirit's flight. 
 
 The father s prostrate heart doth lay its sacrifice 
 Upon the Altar's lambent flame with softened eyes. 
 And she with mother-sister's heart, who loved the dead. 
 Wept oft with streaming eyes and life that inward bled. 
 
THE PORT THAT IS HE A YEN'S PORTAL. 49 
 
 WJiile the cMld-brother's ' tearful, unforgetting voice 
 Mourns the sad painful loss of brightest earthly joys ; 
 The brothers twain, their triad broken, ne'er forget 
 Of long-remembered years, affection's gracious debt. 
 
 The victor hymn hath passed away along the lonely aisle, 
 The holy service' faithful voice hath stiUed itself awhile ; 
 The loving friends are scattered all to silent broken sleep; 
 The tender mourners all are gone, to weep, and still to 
 weep. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1 " Now the fierce steed has rested " — 
 
 Describes the arrival at the end of tl e railway journey at Teignmoufli, 
 which is followed by the transit through the darkling night and beside 
 the moonlit river to the Church at Bishop's-Teignton. 
 
 2 "The holy rood "— 
 The Church's aisle. 
 
 3 A younger brother, St. John Chaloner Ogle, greatly beloved by the de- 
 ceased. 
 
THE VIGIL, 
 V. 
 
V. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 
 
V. 
 THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 
 
 I. 
 DE PROFUNDIS. 
 
 The Church. 
 
 50W the passing bell hath ceased upon the 
 startled air. 
 The holy service' voice hath blessed the tran- 
 quil sleeper there, 
 And left the watcher and the dead within the still 
 And folded silence. Now that pale form rests, within 
 The ancient Church, that centuried home of Jesu's flock ; 
 That sacred fold, that mother mild ; whose loving arms 
 Did guard his infant years ; his childhood's opening 
 
 bloom ; 
 His manhood's fervid fire ; his soul's illumined flame 
 Of consecration, and his mild baptismal hour ; 
 His first communion with the Love and Chalice of his 
 
 Lord ; 
 His boyhood's choral song, his youthful Priesthood's 
 blossoming.' 
 
 The Altar, jj^j-g^ while I, Sentinel, watched, as a restless sea 
 
 bird, on 
 A column's stony wave, as night's meridian flitted near, 
 
 53 
 
54 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Had come the sad-hearted, the dear and loving, and left 
 The sealed and isolated one before the high Altar, 
 On which the lighted caudles waited for the dawn : 
 While others, marshalled in close serried ranks beside 
 The coffin's long penumbra ' of life's ending day, 
 As in a Chapelle-Ardente, wafted back the night's 
 Deep shadows and its hoary grime of blackness dire ; 
 And with their beautiful radiance kept the holy vigil 
 Of faith, until the fell darkness should flee away. 
 
 The Vision. ^|j \iaA withdrawn save one, who kept his sa- 
 cred watch 
 Beside his brother's hushed and awe-struck silence. 
 
 Veiled 
 In the deep night, the Church, although familiar as 
 Of old, seemed in my vision strange, expanded to the 
 
 vast 
 Dimensions of a grand Cathedral's stately life, 
 Like Ely's splendid pile or Burgos' ' wondrous glory. 
 And like the latter's symboled thought, its Lantern 
 
 Tower 
 Seemed to ascend on high into the pierced heavens ; 
 Like Jacob's ladder, with its hosts of sculptured Saints 
 And Angels, who descend in benediction, or 
 Ascend in glorious j oy the measured steps of the eternal 
 Felicity. But all was lost in deepest night. 
 It was tlie midnight's spectral hour, when darkness' wall 
 Is most fearful and sublime, when weakened life beats 
 
 feeblest 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 55 
 
 In the heart, and savage powers from Tartarus wander 
 
 forth 
 To a world that seems abandoned to their malignant 
 
 will. 
 
 Thesiomber. Jq blackness dread the faithful watcher, lost 
 In temporary reverie, has sadly risen ; 
 Unconscious, wandered from the Altar's home of light ; 
 Pressed down the vacant aisle ; and in folded sorrow re- 
 posed 
 Behind a column's shadow, which the glory-beam 
 Hath quite eclipsed, of the grieved Altar's guardian flame. 
 Enchanted sleep hath sudden sat upon his palsied 
 
 brain, 
 And robbed his eyes and will and heart of memory's 
 
 chain, 
 And sprinkled Stygian night upon his soul's white 
 fane. 
 
 The Temptation. Hark ! Now he is awakened by sudden whis- 
 perings 
 Out of the midnight's bosom. " Now it is your hour 
 And the power of darkness," is uttered at his ear. 
 Dim spirits move and wild temptations rise around. 
 The Ebon King of darkness and his spirit slaves, 
 All mocking hiss their incoherent blasphemies. 
 Squat at his startled soul ; fierce flying vampire fiends, 
 With leaden, lurid wings affright the dimned air. 
 
66 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Dark Earthliness, ■with its wild waves of passion's fire j 
 Foul Unbelief with its presumptuous violence ; 
 Pale Skepticism's voice, with its unresting doubts, 
 That cast up mire and dirt along the soul's bright way ; 
 Rebellious Demons that would tear the very heaven 
 From its firm base of alabaster, its white throne 
 Would fierce implunge in dark oblivion's river's night ; 
 The wily and the craft-ful spirits, Demons wild, 
 Maleficent, that wore the faces of Eenan 
 And Strauss, and Kuenen's guileful form, and those dark 
 
 wraiths. 
 The countenances of Schopenhauer and Hartmann, 
 With hateful Pessimism infest the teeming shades. 
 
 The Demon Army. Surely all Spirits of darkness and of guile 
 
 and woe 
 Are in that fierce temptation, and as birds of night, 
 As Harpies foul with fetid claw and quivering beak, 
 Strain all their guilty powers to draw the shivering soul 
 From its allegiance, ere they fly the coming dawn. 
 The hollow arches ring with frantic mockery. 
 Like fierce hyena-laughter in the frightened gloom 
 Of peace-encinctured night, within the Holy Land. 
 
 Thus barking hoarse they cry — ' Shall the pale 
 sleeper rise ? 
 
 Is there another life for the departed soul ? 
 
 Is there a God that rules the thrilling universe ? 
 
 Is there a pitying Savior that doth reign on high ? 
 
 Or any hope that is an anchor to the soul 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 57 
 
 Botb sure and steadfast, and that entereth in, to that 
 Dim holhjw vault within the silence-guarded veil ?' 
 The busy demons shriek, and the frail soul doth quail 
 With the hoiTor of the great temptation, with the Were- 
 Wolves of darkness, and the midnight's mystic power. 
 
 The Overthrow. Hark ! hist ! Is it ! It is ! The silent sleeper 
 
 stirs, 
 And the vile demons hiss and scatter far. The fierce 
 Black spirits fleet away. The wolves of darkness hide. 
 A viewless something glides, all sweet and beautiful. 
 All white and silvery, across the Stygian tide, 
 And places on the dreamer's breast a Cross of mystic 
 
 light : 
 And the hideous nightmare that has brooded there, has 
 
 fled 
 Away, into the wall of night, into the unblessed 
 Kayless recesses of the hollow-haunted night. 
 The holy shining Cross upon his breast lights up 
 The vaulted gloom, and the night's nebulous brooding 
 
 wings. 
 Lights the frail soul within, deep struck with horrent 
 
 fear, 
 Lights the fluted column and the distant aisle. 
 
 Victory, jjg gprings from behind the column's shadow ; now 
 
 with brow 
 And bosom all illuminate, he comes afar, 
 
58 THE VIGIL. 
 
 And lifts his eyes toward the Altar's throne serene ; 
 Whereon the faithful lights are bravely shining, softly 
 Shining, and wafting back the crowding shadows' pow- 
 er. 
 With fearsome feet, but heart exalte he takes flight 
 From black pursuing night : with frightened joy he flees 
 To sheltering arms, to sacred haven,, and is saved. 
 
 The holy Altar's glory-flame hath circled him ; 
 
 The blessed Altar's mother-love enfolded him; 
 
 The faithful Altar's mighty shield hath covered 
 him ; 
 
 The peaceful Altar's tender voice doth comfort him. 
 He has been tempted like his Lord ; but that wild hour 
 Is o'er ; and still the Altar lights fight with the fierce 
 Darkness, and guard the pale, pale watcher and the 
 
 lone 
 White spirit's pictured antitype, the silent dreaming 
 
 dead. 
 Behold the morning cometh, and, behold ! the night. 
 And now. Is it ? It is, as with his risen Lord, 
 That when the impetuous onslaught of temptation dire ' 
 Is o'er, the Angels came in gentlest ministry ! 
 
V. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MOKNING. 
 
 II. 
 
 RESURGAM. 
 
 Silence Wakens. 
 
 ^y^» HE heavy clock strikes One, — One after mid- 
 ■*^ llN-« night's hour; 
 
 The silence may be felt, and broods with ra- 
 ven wings 
 O'er the pale sleeper's narrow home. Hark ! What is 
 
 that? 
 Upon the watcher's wakeful sense there inward creeps 
 A silent sound. 'Tis slumberous silence audible. 
 Is it ? It is ! Something alive is flitting near. 
 Within the sentinel lights around the coffin's pall 
 Something there is, he cannot see, nor hear, nor know. 
 But that reveals its presence to his spirit's awe- 
 Struck thrill. Is it ? It is ! The dead has wakened! 
 He kneels among his guardian lights, that, like the sev- 
 en 
 Spirits of God, whose eyes are in the all of earth, 
 Protect him, child of eternity, from the danger 
 And the darkness' thrall, from the night's haunted brood- 
 ing thrall. 
 
 59 
 
60 THE VIGIL. 
 
 ''contoiation' '^^^^ ! '^tat is that? Hark ! what is that, so 
 
 liquid, still ? 
 Another rustling sound as of light wings, surrounds 
 The sleeper's resting-place ; and a choir of Angels wafts 
 His first awakened prayer, commingled with the incense 
 That floats from their, but half-unfolded, hovering wings 
 Into the dome and distance of the lofty roof ; 
 And conveys to his young quivering soul the Holy Grail,* 
 The golden Chalice cup of the Divine forgiveness. 
 The holy Eucharist, the wine of heavenly life ; 
 Of which our Saviour said, " I will not drink it again 
 With you, even until I drink it new with you 
 In the kingdom of heaven." And now the awakening 
 
 soul partakes 
 His Lord's Viaticum of love, the blissful draught, 
 Lethe of sorrow, wine of life, immortal joy, 
 A lambent flame, a raptured worship, purple peace, 
 A passion thrill from thy sweet passion, dearest Lord ! 
 Thy love's beatitude, thine own eternal life. 
 With joy transported, from the Angels' hands he takes 
 The cup of heaven — erewhile their patient wings rest 
 
 quiet, 
 Their eyes of love fold downward and their gentle lips 
 Pray fervently. Again the Angels and their songs 
 Are gone, and the soft incense of their lifted prayer. 
 In adoring ecstacy the exalted soul still bends 
 Before the Altar's veil. Before the shining vest 
 Of amber light that guards the Altar's throne serene 
 The trembling spirit kneels ; his whispered prayer as- 
 cends 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 61 
 
 Within the Altar's incense ; Ms transfigured heart 
 Shines radiant with unearthly love; his reverent eyes 
 Are lost in beatific vision, and the golden flame 
 Makes one transparent glory of his form ; in which 
 Irradiant temple the soul shines with splendence soft 
 And flows through each translucent nerve of life electric. 
 Thus in its litany the ardent soul abides 
 Before the Altar's face. The faithful watcher waits. 
 The tefie sea-bird on the wall doth keep sad silence there. 
 
 But soon the glowing vision's tide no longer flows. 
 Fast the exceeding brightness fades in night away; 
 The refluent glory passes, all too soon is gone. 
 Behold, the dark world settles to its hour of doom ; 
 And lo, the morning cometh, and yet comes the night. 
 
V. 
 THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 
 
 III. 
 THE MEMORIAL WINDOW. 
 
 The Two Maries. 
 
 ^HE heavy clock strikes Two, — Two after mid- 
 night's hour. 
 Hark ! hist ! Is it a sound, or a dark beauteous 
 gem 
 Cut out from sUence' shore, that has a melody 
 Enfolded in its secret life and raven gloom ? 
 The watcher gazes upward at the window,' where 
 The sacred Maries twain, symbols of faithful love. 
 That watched his childhood's fleeting years, have long 
 
 illumed 
 His bright imaginings of duty and of heaven ; 
 And hidden, while revealed, the Divine allegory 
 Of guardian angels around his earthly footsteps. What ! 
 He sees in the pale darkness that they are not there. 
 Again he looks. They have come down from their bright 
 
 throne. 
 Where through the holy service they have stood so long 
 In the soft sunset's purple light, and illumined there 
 The dear faces of the children they have left behind, 
 With all the tinted glories of the better land. 
 
 63 
 
64 THE VIGIL. 
 
 At the Altai. Clothed in white robes and palms in their white 
 
 hands, they kneel 
 Beside the Altar's front ; the mother dear at the end 
 Whence flows the Gospel's tide, the grandmother, great- 
 ly loved, 
 At the dear side, where abides the Epistle's sacred voice 
 Of warning's gentle guidance. And the mother blest 
 
 A Little chiia. Holds by the hand a little child," whose earthly 
 
 life 
 Was one long atrophy ; a saddened atrophy, 
 In that the nourishment and infant joy that feeds 
 The young soft life with its beautiful bloom, was denied 
 To her : an a-trophy in that the grander victory 
 Of life, its achievements and the trophies of existence, 
 Were not given. But now, in its happy heart-beating 
 There is no tear, no sorrow pale. Its robes are white 
 As no fuller on earth can whiten them. Its sweet soft 
 
 eyes. 
 Tender and true, so bright and blue, have seen the land 
 That is very far off. The heavenly grace hath folded her 
 Young spirit, and named her ' Grace ' among the Angels^ 
 
 where 
 Child of immortal youth, her pensive heart doth dwell. 
 
 The Triad. ^ Jg [ It is ! Between them kneels the son 
 
 beloved 
 And brother dear. Paleness has left his face ; stupor 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 65 
 
 His form. The cerements of death are left behind. 
 The robes of the white eternal life have encircled now 
 His pure transfigured spirit. The Cross of mystic light. 
 The Palm given by the martyrdom of death, are his. 
 He beholds the King in his beauty now, and he is 
 
 wrapt 
 In the ecstatic vision of the blessed land. 
 A snowy sheen lies round him, lustrous aureole 
 Of fadeless light, whose shining folds e'en blanch 
 The paleness of the air, and white the gazer's soul 
 With scintillance of brightness, silvery clouds of thought. 
 
 Holy Radiance. ^]^q lights around the coffin have grown 
 
 dim, gone out, 
 But those at the sacred Altar's side shine still more bright, 
 And seem with lambent light to pervade and penetrate 
 The figures of those Angels kneeling there, till each 
 Seems illuminated from within with a mystic radiance, 
 An opalescent brilliance in a pearly bloom ; 
 A light ne'er seen on land, or sea, or sounding shore ; 
 A light like to the stars in their faithful shining, 
 Or to the Lily where it blooms in the garden of God. 
 And there they kneeling wait and pray, the Angels 
 
 three : 
 The Angel of Peace, the Angel of Rest, and the Angel 
 
 of Prayer. 
 There, while the darkness wanes, they wait, and kneeling 
 
 pray— 
 And lo, the morning cometh and the night is breaking. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 
 
 IV. 
 THE ANGELS OF ADORATION. 
 
 Worship. 
 
 ]1HE heavy clock strikes Three, — Three after 
 midnight's hour. 
 E'en while we look, they kneel no longer. 
 And now three 
 Exquisite Angels' instant stand all looking toward 
 The Altar's orient flame. Their faces' light is drooped 
 In prayer. The hands of each are clasped together, held 
 In ecstatic adoration's still and silent awe. 
 Their robes are whiter than the paling light, and shed 
 An infinite purity upon the ambient air, 
 The sapphire air that seems all hallowed into joy, 
 All quivering into gladness with their presence there. 
 But the bright wonder of the vision was their wings, 
 Which, half unfolded, thrill to fleet away to that blest 
 
 home. 
 With which the Father crowns the far off templed height 
 Of azure arching sides, where He eternal dwells. 
 The pink and purple light from the inner dome of heaven 
 Was on those wings — the sunset's brightest glory-hue, 
 
 67 
 
68 THE VIGIL. 
 
 The rainbow's melody of radiance Divine 
 
 Was on those palpitating wings of love and peace. 
 
 And as they softly rose, and dove-like fell, they were 
 
 A perfume and a benediction sweet, a prayer 
 
 And vision, a thrilling aspiration and Divine 
 
 Pity. And waves of light seemed ever flowing through 
 
 Their life translucent, like to spirit-breathings, that 
 
 Would waft their pinions back to their fair home on high. 
 
 Thus stood the witness Angels of our hour sublime 
 
 Before the holy Altar's lifted face, erewhile 
 
 Its living lights were shining, and the Dayspring was 
 
 Arising, and the hasting shadows fled away. 
 
V. 
 THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 
 
 V. 
 GLORIA. 
 
 Night has fled. 
 
 ?^ ll^HE heavy clock strikes Four — Four after mid- 
 night's hour — 
 And now the night has fled forever to its den 
 Of darkness, and the glorious morning Com- 
 eth fair ; 
 The silver morning of eternal youth, of life's 
 Everlasting spring, of the vision of the Father's joy, 
 Of the presence of the Lord, of the communion full, 
 Emparadised, of the white Spirit's sanctity. 
 
 And while the patient watcher doth watch with won- 
 dering awe. 
 The three ascending Angels with their violet wings 
 Rise upward to the painted window's hallowed throne : 
 Then with their bright wings' hushed farewell, thy float 
 
 on high 
 Into the azure morning's heaven, with empassioned thrill 
 Of infinite gladness, and with hymn of transfigured 
 praise. 
 And while, entranced, he gazes after them, the swift 
 And splendid motion of their purple wings has borne 
 
70 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Them to the heavenly gate, to the Aidenn of the blest; 
 
 And they are hidden in the light forever- more. 
 Behold, while he is lost in that ecstatic vision. 
 
 And as they passed from his fond, swift-pursuing sight, 
 
 Lo — there is floating from the airy infinite 
 
 An ever-fading melody ; a multitude 
 
 Of the heavenly host was swaying round them as they 
 rose 
 
 Into the receding distance of the ^therial heights. 
 Angels of Jesus, Angels of light. 
 Singing to welcome the Pilgrim of the night. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 } Extract from a letter, from the Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle to his 
 aunt in America. 
 
 " I was ordained on Thursday, Dec. 31st (1883), by the Bishop of St. 
 Albans in the Parish Church of Chelmsford, Essex. On the follow- 
 ing Sunday I preaclied at Luton and Bishop's-Teignton, and ou 
 Christmas Day I had the privilege of administering the Chalice for 
 the first time, in the Church of Bishop's-Teignton. We were quite a 
 family group, my father, P. * * * and myself dividing the service." 
 
 ^ "Penumbra" is defined in Astronomy : "A partial shade or ob- 
 scurity on the margin of the perfect shade in an eclipse." How fe- 
 licitous and complete the analogy to the coffin's lengthened shadow 
 over the form beloved, as it lies on the margin of life's eclipse, the 
 darkness of, the grave. 
 
 ^ " Like Ely's splendid pile or Burgos' wondrous glory.'' 
 The grandeur and beauty of the Lantern of Ely is well known to Eng- 
 lishmen. A high authority has pronounced it, "The most beautiful 
 and original design to be found in the whole range of Gothic Architec- 
 ture i^ England." But, beautiful as it is, it is far inferior to the Lan- 
 tern Tower of Burgos, which is perhaps the finest architectural object 
 in Europe, and is worth alone a journey to Spain to see and study. 
 
 ■"'The Holy Grail." His sudden death in the shadows of the 
 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 71 
 
 morning makes this thouglit one of peculiar tenderness. As his 
 spirit awakened from the niglit , the Angels of consolation bring him 
 first the gift of the Holy Communion. 
 
 ^ " The window, where the sacred Maries twain " — ■ 
 
 After the death of his mother and grandmother, who were buried on 
 the same day, 1863, a beautiful memorial window was erected in the 
 Church by loving friends, in which their love and faith were symbol- 
 ized by the two Maries at the feet of the Lord. This window was near- 
 ly opposite the family pew, where it translated the soft air of the 
 Sunday afternoon into the colors of heaven. 
 
 8" A lit tie child"— 
 
 Alluding to an elder sister — Grace Margaret, born April 4th, 1852, 
 died at Nice, May 1, 1855, after a long and wasting illness. 
 
 '"The Angels of Adoration " — 
 
 This portion of the Poem is the translation into language of a re- 
 markable picture in the Academy of St. Luca at Eome, which im- 
 pressed my mind so deeply that it has remained in my memory for 
 many years. It is by a Roman artist, and is one of the finest works 
 of the modern Italian school. The rapt adoring seriousness of the 
 faces ; the loving attitude of the encircling arms that sustain the 
 fainting form of the Lord, the wonderful look of sorrow in the halt- 
 drooping eyes ; the exquisite poise, suffused with passionate tender- 
 ness, of the many-colored wings ; the thrilling movement with which 
 they seem to rise and fall on the sacred air : make the picture a 
 treasury of dreams. 
 
THE VIGIL, 
 
 VI. 
 
VI. 
 THE MIRACLE OF FLOWERS. 
 
VT. 
 THE MIRACLE OF FLOWERS. 
 
 Lilies. 
 
 ^TH reverent awe he follows them to the 
 purple gate 
 Of morning, and turns again toward the 
 hallowed Altar's side. 
 What miracle awaits his vision now ? As in 
 The sacred tomb where slept the Blessed Virgin, ' all 
 Is heavenly flowers. The cerements of death are flowers 
 Of Paradise. The Altar lights are lilies now. 
 And the soft rainbow glow of crowding violets 
 And versicolored roses fills the scented air. 
 All lights are flowers, all flowers are starry lights. And 
 
 as 
 The Altar lights fought back the darkness, so the flowers 
 Empearl the day, and make it worthy of their sweet 
 Blossoming. And their perfume is a message from the 
 
 dead. 
 Purity is the Lily's voice and Joy the Rose, 
 And Peace is folded in the soft Camellia's bloom. 
 Blest are the dead who die in the Lord, all nature speaks. 
 And with her pitying, many-tinted voice doth give 
 Them requiem, doth give them tender requiem. 
 
 75 
 
76 THE VIGIL. 
 
 The Exit. ^^ j^gt, eiireveried in the wondrous vision fair, 
 The watcher leaves the holy Altar and returns 
 Into the new-born light and to the outer world. 
 He presses to his bosom's throne that amber Cross 
 Of light, the sainted brother's guerdon, and his wand 
 Of hallowed power, the now parted Angel's Talisman. 
 That Guardian Cross, that Cross of light, has eyes to see 
 Within his bosom's darkness, has light to lead without, 
 Through the world's devious way, to the bright land of 
 
 dawn ; 
 Has victor power against the darkness, and a light 
 That is whiter than earth's clouded light. Its magnet 
 
 power 
 Is heaven, and it turns true to its pole's uplifted star. 
 
 Watchman, it tells us of the night — ^what its signs of 
 promise are. 
 
 Traveller, o'er life's distant height, see its pole, 'tis Beth- 
 lehem's star." 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1 " The Blessed Virgin "— 
 
 The thought here is suggested by Raphael's picture of the Corona- 
 tion of the Virgin, (in the 4th Sala of the Vatican Gallery at Rome), 
 so familiar to those who know and love Rome and Raphael. While 
 the Virgin appears enthroned in heaven, the apostles are seen below 
 standing around the empty tomb, which is filled and overflowing with 
 flowers. 
 
 2 " 'Tis Bethlehem's Star "— 
 
 It is an interesting fact that these words, altered from Bowring, were 
 written some weeks before I received a copy of the Church Times from 
 England, describing the Memorial East Window which had been 
 erected in memory of the Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle in the Church 
 at Brentwood ; in which at the top of the Arch appears the Star of 
 Bethlehem. So that my thought above expressed seemed a prophecy. 
 
THE VIGIL. 
 
 VII. 
 
VII. 
 THE MELODIOUS GRAVE. 
 
VII. 
 
 THE MELODIOUS GEAVE. 
 
 The Entombment. 
 
 jNCE more 'tis evening's hallowed hour. The 
 tired Sun 
 Stoops to his setting, and would weary seek 
 his land 
 
 Of dreams. Again the Church's tender pitying knell 
 Doth call the mourners' steps to the sad tearful hour 
 When all is over, and the silent dead retires 
 Within his flowery tomb ; where kindred dead in halls 
 Of silence wait his ordered coming to their last 
 Embrace of sorrow ; and the beauteous vestment that 
 He wore amid earth's shadows waits for the morning, 
 
 waits — 
 In its silent folded rest the eternal morning calm. 
 Waits for the true celestial land of morning calm.' 
 
 A Golden cshain. ^ week has passed, whose linked days in 
 
 rosary 
 Of sorrow, make a golden chain of grief, of love. 
 Transfigured tears and lowly prayer, that daily calls 
 The watcher to his bended knee and faithful hour 
 Of blest communion with the loved and parted soul. 
 
 79 
 
80 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Again. Again he seeks the silent grave and stands 
 Above its verdurous rest. The turf is soft, 
 The shadows deep, the sunny hour is heaven's 
 Own benediction, and the peace our blest 
 Eedeemer's gift. Lost in his plaintive grief 
 He sints beside the grave ; with ear attent 
 To its soft harmonies of hallowed quiet. 
 Behold what wonder now awaits his sense ! 
 
 Merlin, ^g {^ ^q legend old of Merlin's tomb,'' 
 His sad melodious grave doth ever mourn 
 His fairy-prisoned soul: its threnody 
 Of sorrow ever floats upon the air ; 
 Till he again is free from the false Vivian's spell 
 Of magic and the enchantment of her syren power: 
 
 Holy Music, go from this saintly grave a holy music lifts 
 
 Its whispered resonance. Yet not the voice of grief 
 
 Or thraldom comes upon the hushed and hallowed air. 
 
 Ecstatic joy is in that voice, a monody 
 
 Of holy hymns ascending from their turfy bed 
 
 Into the still and blissful air, that gently waits 
 
 For its new coming, waits — and then with insect hum 
 
 And all the multisonant voice of evening's hour. 
 
 Joins the sweet melody of everlasting peace, 
 
 Unvanquished, deathless hope. So this melodious grave 
 
 Doth musically murmur hymned monodies 
 
 And tender diapasons to the bending sky. 
 
THE MELODIOUS GRAVE. 81 
 
 Natures Hymn. The multitudinous Smile of ocean, is in that 
 
 Soft crooning hymn of velvet afternoon ; the song 
 
 Of birds, the lark at heaven's bright gate, the humming 
 
 bird, 
 God's tiniest gift to earth's sweet air, the nightingale, 
 That in the Alhambra's groves " doth court his tender 
 
 mate, 
 The linnet and his love, and all the bright array 
 
 The ^oiian Harp. Qf the aerial choir. The aeolian harp, 
 Whose gentle sway is spread upon the winds. 
 And bends the mighty storms to music's will, 
 All, all pay tribute to the multitone 
 From that melodious grave, and ever join 
 Their worship pure and lowly in the Psalm 
 Seeming of varied voices that ascends 
 The overshadowing dome of heaven, the blue 
 
 Light. JEtherial air, that waits the glory of the sun 
 And brings the splendent radiance of his gilded car,* 
 To shadowed mortal eyes. The mysterious murmured 
 
 roar 
 Of fair far waterfalls, the ocean's voice within 
 The pearly shell, mingles in that sweet peaceful Psalm. 
 The song the awakened morning stars did joyous sing. 
 Is braided in with that low voice of praise ; 
 And with its soft vibrating Aeons' fluttering swell, 
 6 
 
S3 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Forever with its tnany-tinted radiance lifts 
 The Atlas-ermined mantle of Eternity. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ' " Waits for the true celestial land of morning' calm " — 
 
 See Part II. Brentwood, Note 3. 
 
 ' " As in the legend old of Merlin's tomb " — 
 
 " The melodious grave of the Enchanter, Merlin, which is in the 
 Forest of Broceliande in Brittany, beneath lofty oaks whose topmost 
 "branches blaze up like green flames to the sky." — Seine. 
 
 ^ " The Nightingale, that in the Alhambra's groves " — 
 
 The noble avenues of elms at the Alhambra, whose trees were sent 
 from England by the Duke of Wellington, are full of nightingales, 
 a,nd their music is one of the special attractions of the place. 
 
 * "And brings * * radiance of his gilded car to mortal eyes " — 
 
 Alludes to the phenomenon of Refraction. 
 
 ' " The Atlas-ermined mantle of eternity " — 
 
 Is an allusion to the ancient legend of Mount Atlas sustaining the 
 ■dome of heaven through eternal years, and also a memory of the most 
 glorious sight lever beheld, the wonderful view of the whole snow- 
 covered ran^re of the Atlas from Fort National in the Kabyle coun- 
 try of Algeria. Those who have seen the Alps of the Bernese Ober- 
 land from the terrace at Berne, can form an imperfect idea of this most 
 magnificent of views. 
 
THE VIGIL. 
 
 VIII. 
 
VIII. 
 THE LOTOS FLOWER. 
 
VIII. 
 THE LOTOS FLOWER 
 
 P^^^^HE Lotos flower its life began beneath the 
 tide, 
 Beheld earth's slime and slimy things on ev- 
 ery side ; 
 
 Worms and decay, decay and worms surround its life, 
 The watery ooze and earth's strange things in constant 
 strife. 
 
 So the white soul, a tiny seed, begins its life 
 Amid earth's slime and creeping things in fervid strife; 
 Its infant thought awakes beneath the waters' tide. 
 And sends its rooted winglets forth on every side. 
 
 Its fertile senses find their fill of earthly joy ; 
 Earth's depth of rich regalement doth not cloy ; 
 The undersoul doth vivid feed its living wants; 
 The senses' song doth healthful fill their busy haunts. 
 
 But now the Lily's stem ascends the lucent tide ; 
 Forsakes the rooted depths where once it sported wide. 
 The wealth of waters feeds its lifted glow of life. 
 The waters' lambent waves with joyous brightness rife. 
 
86 THE VIGIL. 
 
 So the white Soul uplifts a Spirit's slender life, 
 No more a creeping thing beneath the oozy strife. 
 £lancee, straight and firm, it mounts the silver tide, 
 True to the star-beam's call piercing the waters wide. 
 
 The life of nature rare beneath the Lily's feet — 
 It hastens up the watery heights its soul to greet ; 
 Translucent depths it pierces fast with glittering eye ; 
 A Spirit's life has found ; can feebly now descry 
 
 A wondrous mantling light above the waters fair, 
 Folding the lucent deeps in shining iEther rare ; 
 The life doth seek its soul, the soul its amber life • 
 And ever rises toward its goal, through waters rife 
 
 With sweet temptations upward, shadows bright, and 
 
 joys 
 Enshrined in waves' pellucid gladness ; that employs 
 The myriad forms of beauteous finny life ; which give 
 Sweet praise to the Creator that they blissful live. 
 
 The crisis hour has come, the Soul's soft ecstasy : 
 Its lofty head it lifts through the bright waters' play, 
 And finds the ambient air, the warm and golden sky, 
 The Sunlight on the waters ; and observes on high 
 
 The fervid orb of day, the world of air and earth. 
 The blissful mystery of life come in one hour to birth. 
 And now unfolds the Lily's bloom in heavenly air, 
 It pillows now its gentle head on bosom fair 
 
THE LOTOS FLOWER. 87 
 
 Of folding waters, and looks round on earth's green 
 
 world 
 Of gladness; and looks up to heaven's empyrean 
 Of orbed radiance, the ^therial dome serene. 
 Where the Divine reigns infinite in light empearled. 
 
 Note. — The frequent repetition of the same rhymes above is pur- 
 posed, designed to suit the verse to the tender and gentle parable it 
 bears. 
 
THE VIGIL, 
 
 IX. 
 
IX. 
 THE BLESSED LAND IMMORTAL. 
 
IX. 
 
 THE BLESSED LAND IMMOETAL. 
 
 Its Triune Life. 
 
 iUCH is the Lily's climbing destiny, its inborn 
 
 hope, 
 Its first life is of earth, its second life of 
 
 spirit, 
 
 Aspiring mid translucent mysteries to know 
 The higher light ; its third life is of heaven, its seat 
 Upon the changeful waters, but its home the air 
 Of heaven, its food the golden light of suns and stars 
 Englorified in aether : its unfolding bloom 
 Is worship ; its new life a song of praise forever ; 
 Its white purity a hymned thanks to the Divine 
 Beneficence and overshadowing love : its bliss 
 A pictured lesson of the soul's ecstatic dawn. 
 
 The Legend, ^g j^ i\^q legend old, the mystic Lotos flower 
 Did sacred symbolize ephemeral Time afloat 
 Upon the gentle bosom of Eternity ; 
 While the lifted spirit caught brief glimpse of golden 
 peace 
 
 91 
 
93 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Hidden within the folded centuries : Thus the Soul 
 Floats on the Eternal's bosom, and its hour of earthly 
 
 Time 
 Is hid within the orbed centuries. Endless life 
 The^Mystic ^\q mystic Lily holds within its fragrant 
 
 heart, 
 And with ambrosial bliss doth feed the sainted soul. 
 Who will go out no more forever from the feast 
 And home the Lily Angel fair doth make of heaven. 
 The souls on earth we daily knew, in heaven each 
 
 dwells 
 Within a Lily's heart; floats on the Crystal Sea 
 In a white Lily's heart; hath its eternal home 
 Within a Lily's heart; that opes its bosom's gold 
 To greet the golden day, and folds its petals white 
 To meet the purple night ; that follows the Soul's Sun 
 With reverent worship, and at evening's pensive hour 
 Doth wrap the drapery of its argent cloak around 
 The tired soul, while it lies down to pleasant dreams. 
 And while they sleep, their Lilies, Guardian Angels, still 
 Behold the Father's face who is in heaven, and who 
 Enfolds in His Divine embrace all holy souls, 
 While the vast aeons' waves break on the eternal shore. 
 And the Morning Stars come to their hour of glorious 
 
 dawn. 
 
 other Selves. Thosc Lilics are our heavenly bodies, waiting 
 
 our blest 
 Exchange of worlds — still listening, waiting, evermore 
 The blissful union ; other fairer selves, whose life 
 Is the white robe enfolding our ascending souls. 
 
THE BLESSED LAND IMMORTAL. 93 
 
 These are our Guardian Angels, that behold on high 
 
 The Father's face, our other selves, that never left 
 
 The heavenly portal, and with loving longings deep 
 
 Wait for our coming ; that their purer life 
 
 May body ours, may be our garment of celestial praise, 
 
 Our music senses, our Divine attune to peace 
 
 Unfading, our vehicle of thought and canopy 
 
 Of soul ; to whose soft lifted eyes all heaven is fair; 
 
 Unending years unwind life's gentle river's stream; 
 
 While a Saviour leads beside still Lilied waters bright; 
 
 Or makes to grow in meadows fair eternally. 
 
THE VIGIL 
 X. 
 
X. 
 THE SEA-BIRD'S RETURN. 
 
THE SEA-BIED'S RETUKN. 
 
 Over. 
 
 |UCH was the tender pitying tale, my Sea-bird 
 brought to me, 
 Over the wild and roaring gale — over the 
 saddened sea ; 
 Over the frightened, hasting waves — over the storm's 
 
 stern power ; 
 Over the treasures in Ocean's caves — over the tempest's 
 
 hour; 
 Over the Sea's fierce restless roll — over the glowering 
 
 day; 
 Over the hiding, hungry shoal — over the wearying 
 
 way; 
 Over the night's dim silent scene — over the shrouded 
 
 dead; 
 Over the watery world unseen — over the shipwreck's 
 
 bed; 
 Over the cities that sunk away ' — over the tides that 
 
 swell — 
 Over the sails in the beautiful bay — over the storm's 
 farewell; 
 
 97 
 
98 THE VIGIL. 
 
 Over the slumbers of fair Undine — over the harbor's rest; 
 Over the joy of its own demesne — over its home and 
 nest. 
 
 Under. Under the stars that silent shine — under the winds 
 
 that blow; 
 Under the moon in its pallid shrine — under the whit- 
 ening snow; 
 Under the sun's dim ghostly veil — under the fog's dark 
 
 bower ; 
 Under the cyclone's pitiless hail — ^under the typhoon's 
 
 power; 
 Under the Aurora's mocking light — ^under the Phos- 
 phor's glow; 
 Under St. Elmo's- warning bright — under the lightning's 
 
 sault ; 
 Under the meteors fierce that run — under their portents' 
 
 scorn ; 
 Under the Oxen of the Sun — under the clouds of dawn ; 
 Under the morning's advent fair — under the growing 
 
 gleam ; 
 Under the evening's purple air — under its waning 
 
 dream ; 
 Under the dusk's encircling gloom — ^under its shadows 
 
 deep; 
 Under the night's enfolding tomb — under its mists' that 
 
 creep ; 
 Under the holy Care that guards — under the Love that 
 
 waits ; 
 Under the Power no power retards — under the pitying 
 
 fates. 
 
THE SEA-BIRDS RETURN. 
 
 99 
 
 Finis. Over the land, over the sea, my sea-bird came 
 to me, 
 
 Bearing its tender tale to me, over the hallowed sea : 
 
 Under the sky with its glittering arch, it flew to bring 
 to me. 
 
 The freight it bore, on its pinions' march, over the sad- 
 dened sea. 
 
 NOTE. 
 1' Over the cities that sunk away ' — 
 The lost land of Atlantis. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
APPENDIX 
 I. 
 
 Prom The Essex County, Chkoniclb, Friday, August 8ih, 1884. 
 (Chelmsfobd.) 
 
 SAD DEATH OP THE REV. WILLIAM POMEBOT OGLE. 
 
 A feeling of pain and gloom has been cast over Brentwood and the 
 neighhorhood by the sudden death of the Rev. Wm. Pomeroy Ogle, 
 one of the curates of the parish. Mr. Ogle, who was found dead in 
 bed on Priday morning, was only 34 years of age. He was a son of the 
 Rev. W. Reynolds Ogle, rector of Bishops-Teignton, Devonshire, and 
 lord of that manor. He had been at Brentwood about a year and 
 eight months, and by his devotion to his work, his bright and happy 
 disposition, and his singularly winning manner, had gained the es- 
 teem of all with whom he had been brought in contact. He took a 
 special interest in the work of the elder Sunday class, and exercised 
 over the lads a peculiar charm which bound them to him in a spirit of 
 true affection. He was also superior of the Young Ward of the Guild, 
 and was the head of the Juvenile Branch of the Church of England 
 Temperance Society. He was of delicate constitution, but devoted 
 himself to his work with great earnestness. More than once he was 
 compelled to seek a change to recuperate his strength, and on one occa- 
 sion, when taking part in the services of the Church, he was obliged 
 to retire to the vestry owing tofaiutness, to which he was liable from 
 the weak state of his heart. He was possessed of independent means, 
 but was so wedded to his work that he never thought of relinquish- 
 
 103 
 
104 APPENDIX. 
 
 ing it. As a preacher he was much appreciated. That he recognized 
 the possible consequences of his delicate constitution was apparent in 
 some of his sermons, and especially in one which he preached only 
 two or three weeks since from the words, " I reckon that the suflfer- 
 ings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 which shall be revealed in us." Recently, however, he had appeared 
 to be in comparatively good health. During last week lie attended 
 the services as usual and took part in the one at five o'clock on Thurs- 
 day evening. This only served to intensify the shock with which the 
 news of his death was on Friday morning received in the town. Up- 
 on the Vicar, the Rev. C. Grinstead, with whom he had worked in 
 such thorough harmony, the sad news made a most painful impress- 
 ion. The deceased would have begun his holiday on Monday last, 
 and he had intended to spend it at his home in Devonshire. He had 
 invited Mr. A. H. Brown, the organist at the parish church, to spend 
 his holiday with him, and Mr. Brown was expecting a visit from the 
 deceased to arrange for their going away, when the sad tidings of his 
 death were reported. 
 
APPENDIX 
 II. 
 
 From The Essex County Chronicle, Friday, August 8th, 1884. 
 (Chklmsfokd.) 
 
 SERVICES AT THE CHURCH. 
 
 EEFEKENCKS TO THE EVENT. 
 
 The services at the parish church on Sunday were of an affecting 
 character. The Rev. C. Grinstead, who was evidently laboring un- 
 der deep feeling, gave a short address in place of the usual sermon, 
 relating to the work and character of the deceased. The first hymn 
 sung was the one commencing, " When our heads are bowed with 
 woe." The other hymns were " Behold the Lamb of God !" and " 
 Saviour, precious Saviour." 
 
 Tlie Vicar, in the course of his address, said that he was sure that 
 in the face of the trouble which possessed them all, they would not 
 expect him to say many words, but he must allude to the point of their 
 very great loss. Their dear friend and brother was endowed with so 
 many personal gifts that he made himself dear to the hearts of all 
 those with whom he was brought in contact. By liis bright and hap- 
 py disposition, his willing and ready spirit, his winning manner, and 
 his devotion, he won a way everywhere for himself — alike in the 
 children's school and among those who were grown up. His death 
 was a great loss to them, but he spoke to them that day in a way 
 that no one could ever speak to them — so strongly, so deeply to their 
 hearts. It seemed sad that one so young, so full of promise, should 
 
 105 
 
106 APPENDIX. 
 
 so suddenly be cut off from their midst, and should have had to car- 
 ry about with him, so to speak, the canker which should suddenly 
 cut him down in the midst of life. Their lost friend preached about 
 it sometimes, but never with such singular force as to-day, in the 
 Lord's own words, " Be ye ready also." Many, and especially the 
 young, were apt to forget that lesson. They were so young, so full 
 of life, but how many knew they did not carry about the same weak- 
 ness, the same disease? How could they pass over the solemnity of 
 that warning when they considered the uncertainty of life ? Look at 
 their service-book : the particulars of last Sunday's services were filled 
 in in the handwriting of their dear friend on Monday. He had filled 
 in the days of Wednesday and Tbiursday — but the services on hose 
 days had to be filled in by another hand. On Thursday he was there 
 at evensong and knelt with them in the chapel. When the, oeh sound- 
 ed he came gladly, scattering smiles on all around. On Friday the bell 
 called, but there was " no voice nor any to answer." Did not this 
 tell them what a dreadful thing it was to be in life with all its oppor- 
 tunities, and be so near to death ? How they saw the spirit of their 
 dear brother in the way he disposed of his money ! Sufficient he had 
 for his wants, but how generous in giving it away ! He (the Vicar) 
 knew many times he would call to him some of those poor people who 
 were at the lodging-houses to speak to them, and give them of his 
 means. It jnight he against all the laws of political economy, but 
 from the freedom of his heart he would give, hoping it would bless 
 the recipient as well as the giver. He was so unselfish, so unsparing, 
 never calculating that this or that would be to his injury. One person 
 said to him yesterday, that their dear friend knew some months ago 
 that he was suffering from this disease, and he was asked by the 
 person of whom he spoke to be more sparing of himself ; but he said; 
 " I must live in my way — do my work in my way.'' He never altered — 
 he went on just the same. Tbey might say it was reckless and care- 
 less, but it was the whole disposition of the man to give himself and 
 all he had to the work. He had received the spirit of joy, willing- 
 ness, and devotion in all that he did. The many ailments and weak- 
 nesses which in solitary times pressed on him — when he was at home, 
 quiet and alone, had been taken away, and God had received him to 
 himself. The Vicar announced that the body of the deceased 
 would be brought to the church on Tuesday evening, and those who 
 
APPENDIX. 107 
 
 liked to do so miglit walk in the procession. There would be a short 
 service afterwards, and a celebration of the Holy Communion on 
 Wednesday morning, so lia., those who desired to bear a last tribute 
 of affection and reverence to him who had gone, would have the op- 
 portunity of joining with them and him in the communion of saints. 
 
 The congregation was much moved by the Vicar's address, and 
 many eyes Were moistened. At the close of the service Mr A. H. 
 Brown played the " Dead March " in Baul, the clergy and choir and 
 most of the congregation kneeling throughout. 
 
 The deceased's father attended the service. 
 
 The service on Sunday evening was also of a very affecting charac- 
 ter. Special hymns were sung, and at the close of the service the 
 hymn " Day of wrath ! O day of mourning," was sung, the congre- 
 gation kneeling. As the congregation was leaving, Mr. A. H. Brown 
 played Chopin's funeral march. 
 
 FUNERAL PROCESSION AND SPECIAL BURIAL SERVICES. 
 
 The feeling of grief wliich the sad occurrence has caused in the town 
 ol Brentwood was manifested in a most striking manner on Tuesday 
 evening, when there was a funeral procession from Crosse Lawrence, 
 the late residence of the deceased, in Rose Valley, to the Parish 
 Church, where a special burial service was held. Hundreds of per- 
 sons had assembled along the route, and the procession, which start- 
 ed from Crosse Lawrence at half-past seven, moved slowly through 
 an avenue of deeply affected people. The procession was headed by 
 a cross-bearer (Mr. A. Larkin), next walked the choir led by Mr. 
 Bailey, the hon. choirmaster, followed by the followiug clergy: — The 
 Revds. C. R. N. Burrows, F. Alban Wyld, C. Earle, Denton Jones, 
 and C. Grinstead, vicar. Then came the body; the coffin, which was 
 borne by 18 bearers, being covered with a rich purple pall, while up- 
 on the top were a number of beautiful wreaths. The pall -bearers were 
 Mr. J. C. Quennell, Mr. R. Quennell, Mr. E. N. Cubitt, Major Steuart, 
 Captain Cole, and Mr. G. P. Charter. Immediately following the 
 
108 APPENDIX. 
 
 body were the Rev. Pelliam Ogle, a brother of the deceased, and the 
 Eev. J. T. Bailey. The members of the Guild of the Ascension, of 
 whicli the deceased was the superior, walked next, followed by the 
 members of his Sunday-School class and the pupils of Whitelyons 
 School; and the rear of the procession was brought up by a large 
 number of the residents of the town, among them being Mr. J. Phil- 
 ips, the Rev. R. T. PoUexfen, Messrs. F. U. S. Hayne, J. F. Wiffen, 
 W. Carter, M. Playle, I. Turrell, R. Smith, Laming, W. Salmon, H. 
 Newell, Howe, J. H. Drake, Haylett, G. Aldridge, T. Wells, T. Tate, 
 C. Ablin, H. L. Lewis, A. Fogden, F. Stanford, J. Merry, H. F. Smith, 
 Barrett, J. Back, Henry Young, Tibbett, and many others, including 
 a number of ladies. Mr. W. Larkin, treasurer of the Guild, walked 
 directly in front of tlie body, carrying t?ie vestments of the deceased, and 
 Mr. "W. H. Jarvis acted as ceremonarius. As the procession moved 
 slowly up the hill, with the choir singing " The Li tany of the four last 
 things," (Nos. 463), the scene was a most impressive one. On the 
 conclusion of the Litany, the hymn " Brief Life is here our Portion " 
 was sung, and tlie procession passed through the cemetery to the west 
 door of the church. On the choir entering the church the opening 
 sentences of the burial office were read, the body meanwhile being 
 borne up the central aisle and placed on the bier in the centre of the 
 cliancel. On each side of the coffin were three lighted candles, and 
 nea/r by, hanging over the stall which is rendered vacant by his death, 
 were the vestments of the deceased. The church was crowded. The ser- 
 vice was a mingling of the Burial Office and tlie Evening Service. 
 The Psalms from the Burial Office, Nos. xxxix. and xc. were chant- 
 ed. The first lesson, which was read by the Rev. Denton Jones, was 
 that for All Saints' Day, from Wisdom ili. to 9. The second lesson 
 was from the Burial Office, and was read by the Rev. C. R. N. Bur- 
 rows. Immediately after the second lesson the Vicar, the Rev. C. 
 Grinstead, standing at the entrance to the chancel, delivered an ad- 
 dress. It was to them, he said, v.ery gratifying to see so many pres- 
 ent, to show by their sympathy and loving kindness in accompanying 
 tlie procession their affection for tlieir dear-departed brother. From 
 that place where he was, in that land where there was no sorrow, 
 where sorrow had fled away for ever, and where joy and happiness 
 increased day by day, in that place which he now knew, he had seen 
 their marks of afEection; for we could not but believe that the soul. 
 
APPENDIX. 109 
 
 ■which was separated from all that was earthly, looked out from that 
 place with the knowledge which God had given him. They knew 
 that this knowledge was not complete ; they knew that the other land, 
 the land of Paradise, where their beloved were, was a land of growth 
 and increase, and knowledge grew day by day; and love grew, and 
 the blessing of the sense of reward grew there. What was the re- 
 ward which the laborer received when the Lord gathered him to 
 his rest? Not the reward only of affection and sympathy. There- 
 ward of the laborerwas that described bythegreat laborer, St. Paul, 
 — "What is my hope, my joy, my crown of rejoicing? Is it not ye in the 
 presence of the Lord Jesus Christ ? " What would their dear brother 
 say to them that night from the platform of that chancel ? He would 
 say, "Be you followers of Christ, even as I am. If you are looking 
 forward to the heavenly home which I have reached by the same 
 way I have preached to you, do you follow in that way. Follow 
 what I have instructed you in, and that home of rest and freedom 
 from worldly care and sorrow which I have reached shall be yours." 
 He (the Vicar), hoped that the effect of having seen one of the min- 
 isters brought into that chancel would be, that they would endeavor 
 to tread in the steps of God's ministers so far as they taught them 
 the will of God. They might imitate their dear departed brother. 
 They knew he served his Master in much weakness, in much pain 
 at times; but his heart seemed so full of love to those among whom 
 he ministered, so full of love for his work, so overflowing with glad- 
 ness and joy, tliat wherever he went there was an atmosphere of joy 
 about Mm. He had a secret trial. He had pains within which he 
 carefully shielded from the rest of the world, and when he spoke to 
 them as he did at times, he knew what it was to live a Christian life 
 in great weakness, in many trials; he knew, when the gaze of the 
 world was not fixed upon him what the trial and sufferingof a Christ- 
 ian life was, and he asked them from his secret cross of suffering to 
 follow the steps of his blessed Master. It ought to teach them to be 
 very tender to one another. There might he weaknesses in all. Let 
 them remember that they could not tell under what difficulties, un- 
 der what sorrows they each one had to Uvea religious life. 
 
 The service was then proceeded with, the hymn "Jesus lives ! no 
 longer now," being sung immediately before the blessing. At the 
 close of the service Mr. A. H. Brown played "I know that mj' Re- 
 
110 APPENDIX. 
 
 deemer livetU,'' from the Messiah. After the service the congrega- 
 tion filed up the side aisles and passed in front of the chancel, many 
 pausing to kneel in prayer at the chancel steps. 
 
 The body remained in the church through the night, and was attend- 
 ed by relays of watchers composed of members of the Guild of the As- 
 cension. 
 
 At eight o'clock on Wediiesday morning there was a celebration of 
 the Holy Communion, which was attended by a large number of 
 communicants. Solemn as this service naturally is, it was on 
 Wednesday morning of a peculiarly impressive nature, the body of 
 the deceased still resting on tlie, bier in the chancel. There were 
 many beautiful wreaths and crosses on and around the coffin, includ- 
 ing one of white flowers, which was brought that morning. The 
 celebrant was the Rev. C. R. N. Burrows, assisted by the Vicar and 
 the Rev. F. A. Albyn Wyld. The service used was Mr. A. H. Brown's 
 "Missa Qumti Zoni," the "Gloria inExcelsis" being rendered in a 
 monotone instead of being sung. A special introit was used for the 
 occasion. At the close of the service tlie Nunc Dimitth was sung. 
 
 At ten o'clock, immediately prior to the removal of the body from 
 the church, a short service was conducted by the Rev. C. Grinstead. 
 The body was placed in a hearse and conveyed by road to Paddington 
 station, and from thence by railway to Bialiops-Teignton. The body 
 was interred in the family vault at St. John's Church yesterday (Thurs- 
 day). The funeral arrangements were carried out by Mr. C. J. Wallis, 
 who with the Vicar accompanied the body to Paddington station. 
 
 Among those who sent wreaths were the Bishop of Colchester, Mrs. 
 Blomfield, Mrs. Growse, Mrs. Nickisson and family, Mrs. Odell, Mr. 
 A. H. and Miss Brown, Miss Garden, Mrs. C. N. Cubitt, Mr. and Mrs. 
 G. Larkin, Mr. W. H. Jarvis, Miss James and Miss Taylor, Miss Nich- 
 ols, Mr. Hodge, Mrs. Deverell, Mr. Leverton, the Men's Guild; and 
 crosses were sent by Major and Mrs. Steuart, Mrs. E. P. Landon, Mrs. 
 W. W. Brown, the Girl's Guild Ward, the choir boys. Miss Bryan, the 
 Misses Lucas, and others. 
 
APPENDIX 
 III. 
 
 From The Church Times, 
 
 London, Feb. 6th, 1885. 
 
 Brentwood, Essex. — A highly interesting service took place in the 
 parish church of tliis town on Saturday afternoon last, the dedication 
 of the great East window, which has just been filled with stained 
 glass to the memory of the late much-beloved curate, the Rev. W. P. 
 Ogle, who died suddenly last August. The window is of the Early 
 Enjrlish period, and consists of three long lancet lights, the centre one 
 being wider and very much longer than the sidelights. The subjects 
 are three in number: 1st, the Epiphany running through the lights, 
 surmounted with canopies, in each of which are two angels worship- 
 ing the Holy Child, above Whom is the miraculous star ; 2nd, and 
 principal subject, is the Crucifixion, the figures of which are little 
 short of life-size. This subject is also surmounted by canopies of the 
 Early English period, the top of the central one (3) forming the foot- 
 stool of the throne on which our Lord is seated in glory, clothed in 
 albe and stole to show His Priesthood, and robe, crown, and orb, to 
 show His Majesty, His right hand being raised in benediction. At 
 the foot of the whole is the folio wing inscription : — " To the glory of 
 God, and in affectionate memory of William Pomeroy Ogle, deacon of 
 this church, who was born on the Feast of St. Lawrence, 1859, and 
 died on Lammas Day, 1884. This window is dedicated by those who 
 loved him, on the Vigil of the Purification, 1885." A special service, 
 authorized by the Bishop, was used, consisting of versicles, antiphon, 
 psalms, prayers, hymns, and address. There was a full choir, and 
 
 111 
 
112 APPENDIX. 
 
 the vicar sang the prayers standiDg at the altar, and afterwards deliv- 
 ered the address. On the same day another window was unveiled iu 
 thesoutb aisle, consisting of four lights, and containing standing figures 
 of SS. Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, and Matthew, placed to the 
 memory of Mr. Thomas Larkin, an old parishioner. The glass of both 
 windows is of exquisite tone and quality, and is from the studio of 
 Messrs. A. 0. Hemming and Co., 47, Margaret-street, Cavendish- 
 square, who also lately supplied another similar window presented 
 by Mr. Arthur H. Brown, organist of the church, and his sister, to the 
 memory of their parents. 
 
APPENDIX 
 IV. 
 
 From The Tbignmotjth Gazette. 
 
 REOPENING OF LUTON CHURCH. 
 
 Saturday last, St. Luke's day, was the SOtli anniversary of the Dedi- 
 cation of Luton Church. This date was appropriately chosen for the 
 ceremony of re-opening the Church after considerable improvement 
 and adornment both in nave and Chancel. The decoration of the Chan- 
 cel was the especial feature of the work; and this part was under- 
 taken as a memorial to the late Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle, whose 
 sudden and untimely death, nearly three months ago, is yet fresh in the 
 memory of friends and neighbors. 
 
 Mr. Ogle, ihe third son of the Vicar of Biahop's-Teignton, was ed- 
 ucated at Charterhouse and Christ Church, Oxford. He then stud- 
 ied at the Ely Theological College, and was ordained Deacon at Ad- 
 vent, 1882, by the Bishop of St. Albans. For the next 18 months he 
 held the Curacy of St. Thomas the Martyr, at Brentwood, in Essex; 
 where " by his bright and happy disposition, his ready and willing 
 spirit, his winning manner, and his devotion, he won a way every- 
 where for himself^alike in the children's school and among those 
 who were grown up.'' (We quote from a sermon preached at Brent- 
 wood by the Vicar, the Rev. C. Grinstead.) 
 
 On the 1st of August, Mr. Ogle was taken away from his work by 
 sudden and unexpected death. He had dined in London the previous 
 evening, and was apparently in perfect health and spirits. The jext 
 8 113 
 
114 APPENDIX. 
 
 morning he was found dead in hia bed. Tlie cause of deatli was 
 found to have been sudden failure of the action of the heart, which 
 the post-mortem showed to have been of unusual weakness- 
 Funeral services were held on August 5tli and 6th, at Brentwood, and 
 on the 6th and 7th at Bishops-Teignton, which were very largely at- 
 tended; and on the last mentioned day the body was laid in the family 
 vault at Bishop's-Teignton. Very shortly afterwards steps were taken 
 to erect appropriate tributes to his memory in the parishes which were 
 the scenes of his early life and ministerial labors. 
 
 The small church at Luton was originally built in 1853, by the 
 kind interest and liberality of the Vicar of Bishop's-Teignton and a 
 small body of friends. 
 
 The improvements on this occasion have consisted chiefly in the 
 opening out of the Chancel Arch and the decoration of the choir walls 
 and roof with scroll-work, block patterns and ecclesiastical emblems. 
 On the south side was the text, " So He giveth His beloved sleep," 
 and on the north side, " He is not dead, but sleepeth." But the prin- 
 cipal memorial character of the work has been contained in four fig- 
 ures of Saints, placed two on either side of the East window. On the 
 north, St. Stephen and St. William of York; on the south, St. Law- 
 rence and St. Nathanael. The appropriate choice of these particular 
 Saints has been indicated by the memorial brass in the sedilia in the 
 south wall, the inscription on which was as follows : 
 
 Ad majorem Dei gloriam 
 
 et 
 
 in memoriam 
 
 Willelmi Pomeroy Ogle, diaconi, 
 
 Quem, simplicitatem S. Nathanaelis, S. Stephani 
 
 fidelitatem, S. Laurenti constantiam, suavitatem 
 
 S. Willelmi, pro viribus aemulantem, 
 Muneribus sacrosancti ministerii vixdum libatis 
 
 Subita mors infeliciter abripuit, 
 
 Chorum hujus ecclesiae adoraudum curaverunt 
 
 Pater, cogaati, amici. 
 
 Natus est Aug. X. MDCCCLIX. 
 
 Obiit Aug. I. MDCCCLXXXIV. 
 
APPENDIX. 115 
 
 (Translation.) 
 
 To the advancement of Uod's glory, and in memory of William 
 Pomeroy Ogle, deacon, who, striving as far as he might after the 
 guilelessness of St. Nathanael.the faithfulness of St. Stephen, the con- 
 stancy of St. Lawrence, and the loveableness of St. William, when 
 he had but just entered upon the duties of the sacred ministry, was 
 untimely snatched away by sudden death, his father, relations and 
 friends have undertaken the adornment of the Chancel of this Church. 
 He was born August 10th, 1859; he died August 1st, 1884. 
 
 The figures of the saints are painted in monochrome, under canopies, 
 against a three-quarter bacliground of gold diaper work, the upper 
 quarter being of pale blue, thus throwing the heads and nimbi into 
 fine relief. All four are represented standing; St. Stephen holding 
 his emblem, the palm, his eyes raised to heaven, and with stones at 
 his feet ; St. William, Archbishop of York, in the attitude of benedic- 
 tion; St. Lawrence holding his gridiron, is after a special design pre- 
 pared at Munich; and St. Nathanael with the Jewish head-dress, as 
 depicted in the Memorial Chapel at Windsor, is in the attitude of 
 prayer. The chocolate-colored outline, relieved by gold decoration, 
 produces a clear and pleasing effect ; and some of the figures are 
 strikingly characterized by gentle grace and devotion. We under- 
 stand that Mr. Poole of Teignmouth, will shortly publish photographs 
 of this very pleasing work of art. The general opinion of critics is 
 very complimentary to the skill and taste shown by the decorator, 
 Mr. A. Welch, of Bovey Tracey. 
 
 On the day of opening, the church was handsomely adorned with 
 flowers, fruit, and corn, by Mrs. Young of Teign Lawn, who has 
 throughout taken much interest in the work. The service was ap- 
 pointed for 12 o'clock, and by that hour almost every seat was occu- 
 pied by parishioners and by many visitors from the parishes around. 
 The officiating clergy were the Rev. Pelham Ogle, who took the first 
 part of Evening Prayer, the Rev. James Metcalfe, who read the first 
 lesson, the Rev. Donald Owen who read the 3nd lesson, and the Rev. 
 E. E. Douglas, who took the remainder of the service. 
 
 The sermon was preached by Prebendary, the Hon. H. H. Courte- 
 nay. Rector of Powderham, on Psalm xcvi. 6, and the Vicar of Bisli- 
 op's-Teignton, the Rev. W. R. Ogle, pronounced the benediction. 
 
APPENDIX 
 V. 
 
 The following letter is subjoined, addressed to the Rev. P. R. Ogle 
 by the Rt. Rev. The Bishop of Colchester. 
 
 Brentwood, Oct. Uth, 1884. 
 
 Jeab Mr. Ogle — 
 
 Tt is extremely kind of you to send me the memorial 
 of your dear brother. I had conceived an affection for him which 
 I hoped would have resulted in a permanent friendship — a life-long 
 friendship, I was going to write, and it was as long as his life. 
 But God willed that the older should survive the younger. Within 
 a few weeks of his death I should have been privileged, had he lived, 
 to have ordained him a Priest in the Church of God. 
 
 His loss has been a real grief to me. I cannot even yet think of it 
 without deep emotion. 
 
 Mrs. Blomfield joins me in thanking you for your kind letter and 
 
 the card. 
 
 Believe me 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 A Colchester. 
 

 
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