.

'

;.

THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES

s^

Digitized by tlie Internet Arcliive

in

2008

witli

IVIicrosoft

funding from

Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/dayniglitsongsmusOOalli

POEMS

Notice.

This is the Volume published by Messrs.

ROUTLKDGE AND

Co. IN 1855.

DAY AND NIGHT SONGS;

AND

THE MUSIC-MASTER.
A LOVE POEM.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
WITH NINE WOODCUTS,
SEVE.'f

DESIGNED BY ARTHUR HUGHES, ONE BV

A,\D

0>E BV JOHN

E.

MILLAIS, A.

D.

(}.

IIOSSETTI,

U. A.

LONDON:
BELL AND DALDY,

186,

1860.

FLEET STREET.

Militia- <iuaii<main piger et malus,

utilis urbi,
Si das hoc, parvis

quoque rebus magna juvari.

HoR.

9 c; 00^7,'^

Epis.

II,

i.

121.

PREFACE.
This
and

volume comprises, along with the

little

Songs of the writer, published

N'ujlit

Day

in 1854,

a second series of short poems, and a narrative com-

Some of

position.

volume

these appeared in a

published in 1850, and since withdrawn, some in

periodicals

others are

been carefully revised.

ticular,

as a

is

now

added, and

all

The Ifusic-Mafiter,

have

in par-

perhaps nearly entitled to be considered

new poem.

Five of the songs or ballads, The Milkmaid,

The

Girl's Lamentation, Lovely

Mary

Donnelly,

Nanny's Sailor Lad, and The Nobleman' sWeddinfj

have already had an Irish circulation as " ha'penny
ballads,"

purpose.

and the

first

three were written for this

The Nobleman's IVeddiny

is

moulded

out of a fragmentary ditty sung by an old nurse

who was

in the family of

Petrie, to an air

my

respected friend Dr.

which he intends

to include in his

PREFACE.

vni
rolli'Ction

of Melodies,

now

the press for the Society

issuiiij^* at

foi-

Pul>]ication of Ancient Trisli

may

hei-e

writintr,

remark that
to

come home
(as

employ a

ibund

iiitcivalsliom

Preservation and

the

Perhaps

Musie.
it

diction

to the Irish peasant

not easy, in balkid-

that

might

who

speaks English

most of them now do), using

liope to

customary

his

phraseology, and also keeping within the laws of

and the

taste

j)oetic

gi-ammar

rules of

))hraseology, being, as regards

liarities,

not

ior that

structural pecu-

its

hut an imperfect or distorted expression,

an ancient dialect like that of Scotland,

is

generally too corrupt (though often forcible) to bear

transplantation into pootiy.

Only

familiar cxjjeri-

ence, too, and constant attention can enable one to

use words in the exact significance whicli

custom has assigned

ioi-

peasantry, " distress," as far as

means hodily

vaiit

" trouble,"

while

'*

From

these conditions

words

for
*

ill-lncli,

poetiy

in

[Has since stopped

comes

misfortKiic;

meaning.

that the choice of

Irish-English
:

of m'nul

irsjio/isihiliti/

soi'iy" has the usual dictionary

it

the Irish

know, always

affiicfinn

" m\sevy,'' pen II riousiiess; " care,"

and ''sorrow" commonly means

tlie i)oj)ular

among

instance,

imo \nliime

is

narrowly

])ul)liblie(l.]

PREFACE.

IX

limited, instead of tliere being that accession both of

variety and raciness

which

sometimes

is

in the gift

of a genuine pecuHar dialect.

Those excellent

jjainters

submitted their genius

ing will, I hope, pardon

sincere thanks in the
this evidence,

As

to the

me

behalf have

of wood-engrav-

for placing a

word of

book they have honoured with

through

book

who on my

to the" risks

art,

itself,

of their valued friendship.

which belongs

to the period

of youth and early manhood, I can unaffectedly say

I

spend

regard to

little

its

thought, and

chances of reception

being a genuine poetic

of

my

who

experience thus

will receive

worth while
that

may

make

it

result,
far.

it,

satisfied

There are

and

with

with

at least

whose sake

to plan future

some
it

W.

Mat/, 1855.

is

pages

better deserve their perusal.

Lune, Bally shmmon^ Ireland,

its

however small a one,

kindly, tor

to jjublish

less claim,

A.

Through harmony of words may murmur the harmony of things

whispers of human life and the world our scene, pensive memories,
high hopes musically mingling, at fit moments to soothe, cheer,
;

Fine, complex and mystical

is our being, in the midst of

manifold operation, which we feel without comprehending; and Poetry
no less real than Existence.

strengthen.

is

CONTENTS.
Day and Night Songs First Series
I.

II.

III.

IV.

Evey

........

Windlass Song

Venus

The Fisherman

VI.

iEolian

VIII.

IX,
X.
XI.

XII.
XIII.

10

Harp" What

saith the
.

River? "
.

15
.

The Ruined Chapel

A Dream

23

......
.....

Levavi Oculos

Cross-Examination

The Cupids

....

XV. In a Spring Grove

XIX.

little

Girl

The Wayside Well

XX. The Lover and Birds

XXI.

30
32

34

39

The Dirty Old Man

The Bright

25

28

38

XVI. Serenade

XVIII.

17

19

Fairies

XIV. Lovely ]\Iary Donnelly

XVII.

13

Oh were my Love
The

of the Needle

V.

VII.

Page

The Valley Stream

The Milkmaid

....
....

41

46
48
52
55

XU

CONTENTS
xxii. Tlio Lighthouse

XX

II.

The Touchstone

XXIV. vEoliiin Harp

" Is

it all

in

XXV. Lady Alice

XXVI. Thcrania

XXVII. Waycoftnell
XXVIII.

Tower

The Witch Bride

XXIX. Spring

is

come

XXX. The Messenger

XXXI. Autumnal Sonnet

The Music-Master a Love

Poeji

Day and Night Songs Second Series

I.

II.

-(Eolian

III.

The

IV.

To

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

X.

xii.
XIII.

Harp

" What

Pilot's Pretty

is it

that

is

Daughter

the Cicada

The Cold Wedding

On a Forenoon

of Spr

The Three Flowers

In the

IX. St.

XI.

The Choice

Dusk

Margaret's Eve

An Autumn
^Eolian

The

Evening

Harp

Girl's

Wishing

" O pale green Sea

Lamentation
.

gone

"

CONTENTS.

XIU
Page

XIV.

The

Sailor

178

XV. The Lullaby

XVI.
XVII.

JMountain Song

A Boy

XX. On
XXI.

the

"s

the

knew "
!

194
197

Morning Sea

199

Lad

202

207
.

Kxviii. Frost in the Holidays

XXIX. Death Deposed

205

Valentine

XXVI. Under the Grass

XXVII. Nanny's Sailor

191

193

XXIV. The IMaids of Elfen-Mere

XXV.

189

Burial

The Xobleman's Wedding

By

187

....

Sunny Shore

XXII. " Would

XXIII.

182

Morning Plunge

xvin. The Bird

XIX.

181

XXX. On the Twilight Pond

210
213
217

220

WOODCUTS.
Designed by

The Fairies

Arthur Hughes

Frontispiece

Crossing the Stile

ditto

17

Lady Alice

ditto

64

MiLLY

ditto

104

ditto

117

Under the Abbey-avall

....

The Boy's Grave

ditto

191

The Maids of Elfen-Mere

B. G.

The Fireside Story

J. E. Millais

216

Arthur Hughes

221

Window
Ornaments

Rossetti

ditto

Engraved hy

Dalziel.

202

DAY AND NIGHT

SONGS.

THE VALLEY STREAM.

Stream

flowing swiftly, what music

The breezy

rock-pass,

is

thine

and the storm-wooing

Have taught

tliee their

murmurs.

Their wild mountain murmurs

Subdued

in

pine,

thy liquid response to a sound

Wliich aids the repose of this pastoral grountl

Where our

valley yet mingles an

awe with the love

It smiles to the sheltering bastions above

Thy

cloud-haunted birthplace,

Stream, flowing swiftly

Encircle om"

meadows with bounty and grace

Then move on thy journey with

To

tranquiller pace,

find the great waters,

The

great ocean-waters,

b2

THE TALLET STREAM.

Blue, wonderful, boundless to vision or thought

Thence, thence, might

tliy

musical tidings be brought!

One waft

of the tones of the infinite sea!

Our gain

is

but songs of the moimtain from thee

Thy

primitive issue.

Thou Stream

And have we
Where

of oui* valley

divined what

is

thunder'd and hiss'd,

the awfiJ ledge glimmers through screens of

grey mist,

And

raves forth its secrets,

The heart
Or leam'd what

is

of

its secrets ?

hid in thy whispering note,

Mysteriously gather'd from fountains remote,

Where

the solitudes spread in the upper sunshine

Stream flowing

swiftly,

what music

Far-wafted, prophetic ?

Thou Stream

of our valley

is

thine ?

II.

E
Bud

and

leaflet,

Woo'd with
Now,

of

VE Y.

opening slowly,

tears

by winds

of Spring,

June persuaded wholly,

Perfumes, flow'rs, and shadows bring.

Evey, in the linden

All alone I

met

alley.

to-day.

Tripping to the sunny valley

Spread across with new-mown hay.

Brown her

soft curls, sunbeam-sainted,

Golden in the wavering flush

Darker brown her eyes

Eye and

are,

painted

fringe with one soft brush.

EYEY.

Through

tlie

k\ives a careless comer,

Never nymph

ot"

fount or tree

Could have press'd the

With

Can

iloor of

a lighter foot than she.

this broad hat, fasten'd

With
Change

summer

under

a bright blue ribbon's flow,

my

pet so much, I wonder,

Of a month

or

two ago

Half too changed to speak

thought

Till the pictured silence broke,

Sweet and

clear as dropping water,

Into words she sung or spoke.

Few

her words

yet, like a sister,

Trustfully she louk'd and smiled

'Twas but

As

in

my

soul 1 kiss'd her

used to kiss the child.

her,

EVET.
Shadows, which are not of sadness,

Touch her

As

eyes,

pale wild roses

and brow above.

dream of

redness,

Dreams her innocent heart of love.

in.

WINDLASS SONG.
Heate

at the windlass

Heave

all

The

Heave 0, choerly, men

at once, with a will

making,

tide's quickly

Our cordage

is

creaking,

The water has put on

frill.

Heave

Fare you

well, sweetlioarts!

Heave O, checrly, men

Shore gambarado and sport

The good

ship

Each dog-vane

all

ready,

is

steady.

The wind blowing dead out

of port,

Heave

WINDLASS SONG.
Once in blue water Heave 0,

Blow

it

men!

cheerly,

from north or from south

She'll stand to it tightly,

And
And

curtsey politely,

carry a bone in her mouth,

Heave

Short cruise or long cruise

Heave 0,

Jolly Jack Tar thinks

No

it

cheerly,

men

one.

latitude dreads he

Of White, Black,

or

Eed

Sea,

Great ice-bergs, or tropical sun,

One other

turn, and

Heave 0,

Heave

cheerly,

men

Heave, and good-bye to the shore

Our money, how went

We

shared

Next year

we'll

it

it ?

and spent

it

come back with some more,

Heave

IV.

VENUS OF THE NEEDLE.

Maetanxe, you

pretty

girl,

Intent on silky labour,

Of sempstresses the pink and

pearl,

Excuse a peeping neiglibour

Those

eyes, for ever drooping, give

The long brown

But

violets in the

lashes rarely

shadows

For once unveil them

Hast thou not

Of looks

live,

fairly.

lent that flounce

so long

and earnest

enough

Lo, here's more " penetrable stuff,"

To which thou

never turnest.

TE^TUS OF THE ^^:EDLE.

Ye

graceful fingers, deftly sped

How

slender,

naiglit

and liow nimble

I Avind their skeins of thread,

Or but pick up

How

And happy

their thimble

youth

blest the

Who'U
To

silver into

steal

whom

love shall bring,

stars embolden.

To change the dome

The

into a ring,

golden

some morning to her

side

take her finger's measure,

While Maryanne pretends to

And

chide.

blushes deep with pleasure.

WTio'U watch her sew her wedding-gown,

Well conscious that

Who'll glean a

With

tress,

it is

hers

without a frown,

those so ready scissors.

11

VENUS OP THE KEEDLE.

12

Who'll taste those ripenings of the south,

The

fragrant and deUcious

Don't put the pins into your mouth,

Maryanne,

I almost wish

To

teach

my

it

precious

were

my

how shocking

trust

that

is

I wish I had not, as I must,

To

quit this tempting lattice.

Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering

Across a street so narrow

foe,

thread of silk to string his bow,

A needle for his

arrow

V.

THE FISHEEMAN.
BY GOETHE.

The

water gusli'd, the water swell'd

Fisherman thereby

Sat gazing on the line he held,

With

And

as

tranquil heart and eye

he look'd, and as he loU'd,

The parting water surged

And, rustling from the wave that roU'd,

A Woman's form

emerged.

She sung to him, she spake to him

"

Why lure my

By human

Up

skill,

brood away,

and human fraud.

to the burning day ?

14

THE FISHEEMAN.
Oh, happy hve the Uttle

So happy
This

mightst thou know,

moment

To come

fish

'twere thine only wish

to us helow.

" Finds not the

Sun a

resting-place

The Moon, within the mere

Uplifts not each a radiant face,

Grown doubly

bright and clear ?

Persuade thee not these heav'ns so deep

This moist, embracing blue

Thy

features, lo

In

soft eternal

The water

that

swim and

sleep

dew ?"

gush'd, the water swell'd,

It kiss'd his naked feet

Deep longing

all

As when our

his heai-t impell'd.

love

we meet.

She spake to him, she sung to him

No

help could come between

Half drew she him, half sank he

And

never more was seen.

in,

VI.

iEOLIAN HAEP.

What

saith the river to the rushes grey,

Kushes sadly bending,

River slowly wending ?

Who

can

tell

the whisper'd things they say?

Youth, and prime, and

For

ever, ever fled

life,

away

Drop your wither'd garlands

Low autumnal
Eound the

and time.

in the stream,

branches,

skifi*

that launches

Wavering downward through the lands of dream.

Ever, ever fled away

This the burden, this the theme.

iOLIAN HAEP.

IG

\Vhat saith the river to the rushes grey,

Rushes sadly bending,

River slowly wending ?
It

is

near the closing of the day.

Life and light

Near the night.

For

ever, ever fled

away

Draw him tideward down

but not in haste.

Mouldering daylight Hngers

Night with her cold

Sprinkles

moonbeams on the dim

Ever, ever fled away

Vainly cherish' d

What

fingers

sea-waste.

vainly chased

saith the river to the rushes grey.

Rushes sadly bending,

River slowly wending ?

Where

in darkest

Up
For

the cave

glooms his bed we

moans the wave,

ever, ever, ever fled

away

lay.

^it'h.

VII.

OH!

On

were

That

And

sit

WERE MY

my

Love a country

might

see her every

with her on hedo^erow

Beneath a bough of

And

find her cattle

Or help

And

LOYE.

linger on om*

And woo

her

A twilight kiss

day
errass

May

when
them

to drive

lass,

astray,

to the field,

homeward way,

lips to yield

before

we

pai-ted.

Full of love, yet easy -hearted.

Oh

To

were

my Love

spin through

Where

a cottage maid.

many

ingle-corner lends

From

a winter night,
its

shade

fir-wood blazing bright.

18

oil

wKitn y\y love.

Beside her wheel wliat dear delight

To watch
With tender

the blushes go and come

words, that took no

Beneath the IViendly

hum

friglit

Or

rising smile, or tear-drop swelling,

At

a fireside legend's telling.

Oh

were

my

Love a peasant

girl,

That never saw the wicked town

Was

never dight with

But graced

How

less

silk or peaid,

homely gown.

than weak were fashion's frown

To vex our unambitious

How

rich were love

lot

and peace to crown

Our green secluded

cot

Where Age would come

serene and shining,

Like an autumn day's declinins:

VIII.

THE FAIRIES.
A NUESEEY SOXG.

Up

the aiiy mountain,

Down

We

the rushy glen,

daren't go a hunting

For

Wee

fear of little

folk,

good

Trooping

all

Down

together
cap,

white owl's feather

along the rocky shore

Some make
They

folk,

Green jacket, red

And

men

live

their

home,

on crispy pancakes

Of yellow tide-foam

C2

Tin; lAIlUKS,

20

Some

tho rcocls

in

Of the

With

bhick mountain-lake,

i'roi,'s

lor their

night awake.

A.11

High on the
The

He

is

old

now

hill-top

King
so old

He's nigh

With

watch-dogs,

sits

and grey

lost his wits.

a bridge of white mist

Colunibkill he crosses,

On

his stately journeys

From

Slieveleague to Rosses

Or going up with music

On

cold starry nights.

To sup with

the Queen

Of the gay Xortncru

They

Lights.

stole little Bridget

For seven years long

When
Her

she came

down again

friends were all gone.

THE FAIRIES.
They

tocfk

21

her lightly back,

Between the night and morrow,

They thought that she was

fast asleep,

But she was dead with sorrow.

They have kept her

Deep within the

On

lakes,

a bed of flag-leaves.

Watching

By

ever since

till

the craggy

she wakes.

hill-side.

Through the mosses

They have planted

bare,

thorn-trees

For pleasure here and there.

any man

Is

To

He

so daring

dig one up in spite,

shall find the thornies set

In his bed at night.

Up

the airy mountain,

Down

We

the rushy glen.

daren't go a hunting

For

fear of little

men

THE FAIRIES.

22
\Vce

folk,

good

Trooping

Green

all

folk,

together

jiickct, n-d cap,

And

white owl's feather!

IX.

THE EUIXED CHAPEL.

Br

the

sliore, a plot

of ground

Clips a ruin'd chapel round,

Buttress'd with a grassy

\Vhere

And

Day and Night and Day go

bring no touch of

Washing

mound

human

sound.

of the lonely seas,

Shaking of the guardian

trees,

Piping of the salted breeze

Day and Night and Day go by

To

the endless tune of these.

by,

THE nrixF.D cuapkl.

21

Or

wlu'ii, as

liusli

Still

winds and wati-rs keep

more dead than

morns

to stiller (.'venings creep,

And Day and

Here the

silence

The empty

an\' sleep,

Xiylit and
is

Day go by

most deep.

ruins, lapsed again

Into Nature's wide domain,

Sow themselves with

seed and grain

As Day and Night and Day go by

And hoard

Here

fresh funeral tears were shed

And now

And

June's sun and April's rain.

the graves are also dead

suckers from the ash-tree spread,

While Day and Night and Day go by

And

stars

move calmly overhead.

A DllEAM.
I

HEAED

And

the dogs howl in the moonlight night,

I went to the w^indow to see the sight

All the dead that ever I

knew

Going one hy one and two hy two.

On

they pass'd, and on they pass'd

Townsfellows

Born

in the

all

from

first

moonlight of the lane,

And quench'd

in the

heavy shadow again.

Schoolmates, marching as

At

soldiers once

when we play'd

hut now more

staid

Those were the strangest sight to

Who

to last

me

were drown' d, T knew, in the awful

sea.

20

! ;

A UUEAM.
Straight ami liaiulsomc folk

And

somi' that

and

I lovt>d,

Some but

a da^' in

And some

that I had not

long, long

And

yet of them

That

tlu'ir

crowd

bont and weak too

gasj)'d to speak to

churchyard bed

known were

dead.

wliere each seem'd lonely.

all

there wa.s one, one only,

rais'd a head, or look'd

my way

And

she seem'd to linger, but might not stay.

How

long since

Ah, mother

My

dear,

saw that

might

fair pale face

only place

head on thy breast, a moment to

While thy hand on

my

tearful cheek

rest,

were prest

On, on, a moving bridge they made

Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade

Young and

old,

wouicn and men

^lany long-forgot, but remcinbiT'd then.

A DREAM.

27

And

first

And

a sound of tears a

And

then a music so lofty and gay,

there came a bitter laughter

moment

after

That every morning, day by day,

I strive to recall it if I

may.

XI.

"LEV AVI OCULOS."

I CRIED to God, in trouble for luy sin

To the Great God who

The deeps

liut with

dwellcth in

tlie deeps.

return not any voice or sign.

my

soul I

know

The

soul thou glvest

And

with

my

Full sure I

thee.

knoweth

soul I sorrow for

am

there

Joy-seented Peace

is

is

Great God

thee, Great

my

no joy in

God

sin.

sin,

trampli'd under foot,

Like a white growing blossom into mud.

Sin

As

is

estahUsh'd subtly in the heart

a disease

like a

magician foul

Kuleth the better thoughts against their

will.

"letati oculos."

29

Only the rays of God can cure the heart,

Purge

it

of evil

Except to

tiu-n

there's no other

way

with the whole heart to God.

In heavenly sunlight

no shades of

fear

The

soul there, busy or at rest, hath peace

And

music floweth from the various world.

The Lord

is

live

great and good, and

is

om* God.

There needeth not a word but only these

Our God

AU

is

good, our

God

things are ever God's

Are of men's

fantasy,

is

great.

'Tis well.

the shows of things

and warp'd with

sin

God, and the things of God, immutable.

great good God,

The shows

To thy

my

pray'r

to neglect

of fantasy, and turn myself

unfenced, unbounded

Then were

is

all

Then were my

warmth and

light

shows of things a part of truth

soul, if

busy or

at rest,

Residing in the house of perfect peace

xir.

CROSS-EX A M

What

knowost thou

As mucli

as

God

x\

ATI ON.

oftliis eternal

code?

intended to display.

Wilt thou affirm thou knowest aught of God

Nor

save his works, that creature ever may.

Is not thy

Which

Is

it all

life

at times a

aimless on

my

weary load

back he would not

good thy conscience doth forebode

deepest thought dotli least

Till-

When

my

lay.

soul affray.

hath a glimpse of Heav'n been ever show'd

Wlillst walking straight, I never miss

Why should
Easy

its ray.

such destiny to thee be owed

alike to

him

are yea and nay.

31

CEOSS-EX-A.MIXATIO^'.

Why

shouldst tliou reach

Ask that

of

him who

it

hy

so

mean

set us in the

a road

way.

Art thou more living than a finch or toad

Is soul sheer waste, if

Thou never

we be such

as they ?

wilt prevail to loose the node.

If so, 'twere loss of labour to essay.

Nor

to uproot these doubts so thickly sow'd.

Xor thou

these deeplier-rooted hopes to slay.

XIII.

THE

CUPIDS.

saw one day

In a grove

Cupids

flight of

all

at play,

Flitting l)ird-likc tlirougli the

Or alighting here and

Making every bough

With

most

there,
rejoiee

celestial voice,

Or amongst the blossoms

lldlling on the

Some

air,

foinid

swarded ground.

there were with wings of blue,

Other some, of rosy hue.

Here, one plumed with purest white,
There, as dyed in golden light

THE CUPID 3.

33

Crimson some, and some I saw

Colour'd like a gay macaw.

Many

were the Queen of Beauty's

Many bound

to other duties,

II.

A band

of fowlers next I spied,

Spreading nets on every

Watching

long,

by

side,

skill or

hap

Fleeting Cupids to entrap.

But

if

one at length was ta'en.

After mickle time and pain.

Whether golden one

Piebald, or of

When
He

rosj'-

or blue,

hue,

they put him in their cage

grew meagre

as

with age.

Plumage rumpled, colour

coarse,

Voice unfrequent, sad, and hoarse

And

Who

little

pleasure

had they

in

him

had spent the day to win him.

XIV.

LOVELY MARY DONNELLY.

{To an

Iritsh

On, lovely Mary Donnelly,

If

fifty girls

Be what

it

Tune.)

it's

you

I love the best

were round you I'd hardly see the

may

the time of day,

rest.

place he where

tlie

it will.

Sweet looks of Maiy Donnelly, they bloom before

me

stni.

Her

eyes like mountain water that's flowing on a rock,

How

clear they arc, liow dark they are

me many

and they give

a sliock.

Eed rowans warm

in

sunshine

and wetted with a

show'r,

Could ne'er express the charming

its

pow'r.

lip

that has

me

in

!
:

LOTELT MAET DONNELLY.

Her

nose

straight

is

35

and handsome, her eyebrows

lifted up,

Her

chin

chma

Her

smooth hke a

cup.

hair's the brag of Ireland, so

It's rolling

down upon her

The dance o'

No

very neat and pert, and

is

last

weighty and so

fine

neck, and gather'd in a twine.

Whit-Monday night exceeded all before,

pretty girl for miles about was missing from the

floor

But Mary kept the

She danced a

jig,

belt of love,

and

but she was gay

she sung a song, that took

my

heart

away.

^AHien she stood up

for

dancing, her steps were so

complete,

The music nearly

The

fiddler

kill'd itself to listen to

moan'd

his blindness,

her feet;

he heard her so much

praised,

But

bless'd himself he wasn't deaf

voice she raised.

b2

when once her

LOVELY MAKT DOXXELLT.

36

And

evermore I'm wliistling or

Your

.smile

my
Eut

is

always

in

my

what you sung,

lilting

yuur name beside

heart,

tongue

3-ou've as

many

sweethearts as you'd eount on

both your hands,

And

myself there's not a thumb or

for

finger

little

stands.

Oh, you're the flower

town

o'

womankind

in

country or in

The higher

I exalt you, the lower

If some great lord should come

I'm

tliis

cast down.

way, and see your

beauty bright,

And you

to be his lady, I'd

might we

Where

live

own

it

was

l)ut right.

together in a lofty palace

hall.

joyful music rises, and where scaidet curtains

faU!

might we

With

live

together in a cottage

mean and

small;

sods of grass the only roof, and nuid the only

wall!

LOYELT MART DONNELLY.

lovely

beauty's

my

distress.

beauteous to be mine, but

I'll

never wish

Mary Donnelly, your

It's far too

37

it less.

The proudest

place would

fit

your

face,

and I

am

poor

and low

But

blessings be about you, dear, wherever

you may go

XV.

SONNET.
IX A SPEIXG GROVE.

Here

the white-ray'd anemone

is

born,

Wood-sorrel, and the varnish'd buttercup

And

primrose in

its

purfled green swathed up,

PaUid and sweet round every budding thorn,

Grey

ash,

and beech with rusty leaves outworn.

Here, too, the darting linnet has her nest

In the blue-lustred holly, never shorn,

Whose

partner cheers her

little

Piping from some near bough.

brooding breast.
simple song!

cistern deep of that liarmonious rillot.

And

these fair juicy stems that clunb and throng

The

vernal world, and unexhausted seas

Of flowing
Each

life,

and soul that asks to

iuid all these,

fdl

it,

and more, and more than these!

XVI.

SERENADE.
Oh, hearing

sleep,

The while we

and sleeping

dare to call thee

lieai",

deai',

So may thy dreams be good, although

The loving power thou

As music

parts the silence, lo

Through heav'nthe

To comfort

And may

still

stars begin to peep,

Sea of Sleep.

thine eyelids keep

our voices through the sphere

Of Dreamland

all as softly rise

As through these shadowy

Where

fairer lights of thine

set into the

Yet closed

know

us that darkling pine

Because those

Have

canst not

bashful

Echo

rui-al dells,

sleeping dwells,

40

SERENADE.

And

touch thy spirit to as soft

And
Till

replies.

peace from gentle guardian skies,

watches of the dark be worn,

SuiTound thy bed,

Makes

all

and joyous morn

the chamber rosy bright

Good-night

From

The drowsy Echo's

Good-niarht

far-off fields is

faint "

borne

Good-night,"

Good-night

XVII.

THE DIRTY OLD MAN

A LAY OF LEADEXHA-LL.

!>'

dii-ty

old house lived a Dirty Old

Man

Soap, towels, or brushes were not in his plan.

For forty long

years, as the neighbours declared.

His house never once had been clean'd or

repaii-'d.

'Twas a scandal and shame to the business-like

One

terrible blot in a ledger so neat

The shop

And

street,

full of

hardware, but black as a hearse,

the rest of the mansion a thousand times worse.

Outside, the old plaster, all spatter and stain,

Looked spotty

The

And

in sunshine

and streaky in rain

window-sills sprouted with mildewy grass,

the panes from being broken were

glass.

known

to be

TUE DIETY OLD MAX.

42

On

the ricketty signboard no learning could spell

The merchant who

But

for house

Like a fungus,

and

sold, or

for

man

the goods he'd to

a

new

the Dirt gave

its

title

sell

took growth,

name

them both.

to

"Within, there were carpets and cushions of dust.

The wood was

Old curtains

half rot, and the metal half rust.

half cobwebs hung grimly

'Twas a Spiders' Elysium from

aloof;

cellar to roof.

There, king of the spiders, the Dirty Old M^ui

Lives busy and dirty as ever he can

AVith dirt on his fingers and dirt on his face,

For the

From

Dii'ty

his

Old

wig to

Man

thinks the dirt no disgi*ace.

his shoes,

from his coat to his

His clothes are a proverb, a marvel of

The

shirt,

dirt

dirt is pervading, unfading, exceeding,

Yet the Dirty Old

breeding.

Man

has

both

learning

and

THE DIETT OLD

43

MAN',

Fine dames from their carriages, noble and

Have

entered his shop

And

have afterwards

less to

fair,

buy than to

though the

said,

stare

was so

dirt

frightful,

The Dirty Man's manners were truly

But they

delightful.

pried not upstairs, through the dirt and the

gloom.

Nor

peep'd at the door of the wonderful room

That gossips made much

But whose

inside

no

of,

in accents subdued,

mortal

might boast

to have

view'd.

That

room
deck'd

forty

years

love

to-day.

settled

and

prepared, and the guests are expected.

The handsome young host he

his

folk

it.

The luncheon's

For

since,

is

gallant and gay.

and her friends

will

be

with

him

THE DIRTY OLD MAX.

44

With

solid

and dainty the table

The wine beams

is

drest,

brightest, the flowers

its

bloom their

best

Yet the host need nut

For

his sweetheart

is

smile,

and no guests

will appear,

dead, as he shortly shall hear.

Full forty years since, turn'd the key in that door,

'Tis a

The

room deaf and dumb 'mid the

guests, for

May now

whose joyance that table was spread,

enter as ghosts, for they're every one dead.

Through a chink

The

in

Whose

Avas

wealth to the rat and the mouse

descendants have long left the Dirty Old House.

Cup and

the shutter dim lights come and go

seats are in order, the dishes a-row

But the hmcheon

The

city's uproar.

platter are

mask'd

in thick layers of

dust

flowers fall'n to powder, the wine swath'd in crust

nosegay was

And the

laid before

one special chair,

faded blue ribbon that bound

it lies

there.

THE DIRTY OLD MAN.

The

old

man

play'd out his parts in the scene.

lias

Wherever he now

is,

I hope he's more clean.

Yet give we a thought

To

that Dirty Old

[A

singular man,

45

free of scoffing or

ban

House and that Dirty Old Man.

named Nathaniel

Bentley, for

many

years

kept a large hardware shop in Leadenhall-street, London.

was best known

probably),

and

as Dirty

Dick (Dick,

his place of business as the

died about the year 1809.

He

for alliteration's sake,

Dirty Warehouse.

He

These verses accord with the accounts

respecting himself and his house. ]

XVIII.

THE BRIGHT LITTLE

{To

Heb

blue eyes they

Her

On

an

GIRL.

Irish Tunc.)

beam and they

twinkle,

have made smiling more

lips

fiiir

cheek and on brow there's no wrinkle,

But thousands

She's

little,

of curls in her hair.

you don't

wisli

her taller

Just half through the teens

And baby

is

all

to puzzle a sage

far better

She speaks

And

her age

or lady to call her,

Were something

Her walk

is

than dancing;

as another

might sing

by an innocent chancing,

Like lambkins and birds in the spring.

47

THE BEIGHT LITTLE GIEL.

Unskill'd in the

aii's

of the city,

She's perfect in natural grace

She's gentle, and truthful, and witty,

And

Her

face,

As

And

ne'er spends a thought on her face.

with the

fine

glow that's in

fresh as an apple-tree
!

when

it.

bloom

she comes, in a minute.

Like sunbeams she brightens the room.

As taking

in

mind

How many

as in feature,

will sigh for

I wonder, the sweet

her sake

little creature,

AVhat sort of a wife she would make.

XIX.

THE WAYSIDE
Tuou

AVELL.

pretty Wayside Well,

Wreath' d about with roses

Where, beguiled with

Weary

With

Wave
By

sootliing spell,

foot reposes.

welcome

fresh

and green

thy border grasses,

the dusty traveller seen,

Sighing as he passes.

Cup

of no Circcan bliss,

Charity of summer.

Making happy with

a kiss

Every meanest comer

THE WATSIDE
Morning,

too,

Without

"WEIL.

and eventide,
or measure,

stii>t

Cottage households near and wide

Share thy liquid treasure.

Fair the greeting face ascends,

Like a naiad daughter.

When

the peasant lassie bends

To thy trembling

W^hen

water.

a laddie brings her pail

Down
Tender

the twilight meadow,

falls

the whisper'd

shadow

Soft the double

tale.

Clear as childhood in thy look,

Nature seems to pet thee

Fierce July that drains the brook

Hath no power

to fret thee.

49

;
;

THE WAYSIDE

60

"WELL.

Shelter'd cool and free from smirch

In thy cavelet shady,

O'er thee in a silver birch

Stoops a forest lady.

To thy

glass the Star of

Eve

Shyly dares to bend her

Matron Moon thy depths

Globed in mellow

Bounteous Spring

receive,

splendoiir.

for ever

own

Undisturb'd thy station

Not

to thirsty lips alone

Serving mild donation.

Never come the newt or

Pebble tlirown

Mud
Or

frog,

in malice,

or wither'd leaves, to clog

defile

thy

chalice.

THE WAYSIDE WELL.

Heaven be

still

Through the
Glimpsing

When

witliin tliy ken,

veil

thou wearest,

clearest, as

with men,

the boughs are barest

E 2

51

XX.

THE LOVEll AND

WiTHix

budding grove,

In April's car sang every

But not
Or

Some

BIRDS.

I'ird liis best,

a song to pleasure

my

unrest,

toucli tlu- tears unwejjt of bitter love.

spake, methought, with pity,

some

as if in jest.

To every word
Of every bird
I listen'd,

and replied

as it behove.

Scream'd Chaffinch, " Sweet, sweet, sweet

bring

my

pretty love to meet

"Chaffinch," quoth

Thv

And

"be dumb

here

!"

awhile, in fear

darling prove no better than a cheat

never come, or

lly

when wintry days appear."

Yet from

With
The

I,

me

little

twig

voice so big,

fowl his utterance did repeat.

THE LOYEE
Then

" tlie

I,

man

The

he do

foolish noise aloft."

what'll he do !" seoff'd

Blackbird, standing

Then spread

his sooty

With

m an ancient thorn,

wings and

flitted to

being half

I,

call'd after,

giving back his scorn.

Worse mock'd the Thrush, "Die!

could he do

Be quick! be

the croft,

cackling laugh

Whom
Enraged,

53

AlfD BIEDS.

forlorn

Hears Earth send up a

"And what'U

it ?

could he do

it ?

die!

Nay

Here, here, here!" (went his

quick!

lay)

"Take heed! take heed!"

Avhy

See

ee

now!

back!

why
see

"Why? why? why?

ee

now

R-r-r-run

then,

!"

(he drawl'd) "

away

Thrush, be

!"

still

Or, at thy will,

Seek some

less

sad interpreter than I

Back back!
!

THE LOVEIt

54:

"Air, air!
AVliitlicr

l)lue air

and whitt'
whither,

whither,

llt'O,

A>"D BIRDS.

wliitlicr

flee!"

(Thus the Lark

" Hills, countries,

Whither

1 see,

many

whither

whither I

may

remember"

deeper, deeper, dee})er,

I said.

that's bred

well to heav'n

" There's something,

I half

see!"

see, see,

The song

something

piped

Well sung, sweet Kobin

make

a broken strain.

Robin sung again,

!

be

we glad!"

wist not wliy, nic melancholy mad,

Till

now, grown meek.

With wetted
Most

flight.

sad,

"Spring's opening cheerily, cheerily

Wliich moved,

lea)

waters glittering bright,

1 see

Gay Lark,

In happy nest

mounting from the

liurried,

cheek.

comfoi'ting and gentle thoughts 1 had.

XXI.

THE MILKMAID.
(To the tune of "

O,

WHEEE

Good

are

It

was an old Beggarman.")

you going so early

luck go with

j^ou,

my

To teU you my mind I'm

But

he said

pretty maid

hah" afraid,

I wish I were your sweetheart.

When
And

the morning sun

O'er

And

hill

I'll

shining low,

and

pail,

dale,

go with you a-milking.

I'm going a-milking,

sir,

Through the dew, and

ne'er

is

the cocks in every farmyard crow,

I'U carry your

You

says she,

across the lea

would even yourself to me,

Or take me

for

When

your sweetheart.

the morning sun, &e.

50

THE MILKMAID.

Now
To

give

carry

mo your

it

down

milking stool awhile,

to yonder stile

I'm wishing every step a

And myself your

When
0, here's the

mile,

only sweetheart.

the morning sun, &c.

stile

in-under the tree,

And

there's the path in the grass for me.

And

thank you kindly,

And

sir,

says she.

wish you a better sweetheart.

"When the morning

sun, &c.

Now

give

And

while we're going across the

me

your milking-pail, says he.

lea,

Pray reckon your master's cows to me.

Although I'm not your sweetheart.

When

the morning sun, &c.

Two

of

them

Two

of

them yellow and

red,

and two of them white,

silky bright.

She told him her master's cows aright.

Though he was not her

When

sweetheart.

the morning sun, &c.

57

THE MILKMAID.
She

sat

and milk'd

And when

her milking was over and done,

She found him waiting,

As

if

all as

the morning sun, &c.

freely offer'd his heart

Now

one

he were her sweetheart.

When

He

morning sun,

in the

and hand

she has a farm at her command.

And cows

of her

Success to

When
And

to graze the land

true sweethearts

all

the morning sun

is

shining low,

the cocks in every farmyai'd crow,

I'll

carry your pail

O'er

And

own

hill

I'll ffo

and

dale.

with vou a-milking.

XXII.

THE LIGHTHOUSE.
The

plunging storm

And

tlirills

flies fierce

against the pane,

our cottage with redoubled shocks

The chimney mutters and the

rafters strain

Without, the breakers roar along the rocks.

See,

from

How

oiu* tire

and taper-lighted room,

savage, pitiless, and uncontroll'd

The grim horizon shows

its

tossing gloom

Of waves IVom luiknown angry gulphs

uj)roird

Wlicrc, underneath that black portentous

A long

lid,

pale space between the night and sea

(Jrleams awful

while

in

deepest darkness hid

All otlicr things in our despair agree.

od

THE LIGHTHOUSE.
But

lo

what

soft

star

amid the thickest dark

and unexpected dawn has made

welcome Lighthouse, thy unruffled spark,

Piercmg the turmoil and the deathly shade

By

such a glimpse o'er the distracted wave

Full

many

a soul to-night is re-possest

order, strong to save

Of courage and of

And

like effect it

Three faithful

Agamst

all

"VVTiere peril

men have

What
But

my

breast.

set themselves to stand

storms that from the sky can blow,

must expect no aiding hand,

And tedium no

Nor shout

works within

rehef

may hope

to

know.

they, passing brothers to inform

weariness they

feel,

or

what

affright

tranquilly in solitude and storm

Abide from month to month, and show their light.

XXIII.

THE TOUCHSTONE.
A Max

there came, whence none could

Bearing a Touchstone

And
By

its

tested

unerring

all

in his

tell,

hand

things in the land

spell.

Quick birth of transmutation smote

The

fair

to foul, the foul to fair

Purple nor ermine did he spare,

Nor

scorn the dusty coat.

Oi heir-loom

jewels, prized so

Were many changed

And

much,

to chips and clods,

even statues of the Gods

Crumbled beneath

its

touch.

THE TOUCIISTOXE.
Then

angrily

"

The

tlie

loss

Our goods

We

will not

And

people cried,

outweighs the profit

suffice

far

us as they are

have them tried."

since they could not so avail

To check
They

How

61

his unrelenting quest,

seized him, saying

"

Let him

test

real is our jail!"

But, though they slew him with the sword,

And

in a fire his

Touchstone hurn'd,

Its doings could not be o'erturn'd,

Its undoings restored.

And

when, to stop

all

future harm,

They

strew' d its ashes

They

little

on the breeze

guess'd each grain of these

Convey'd the perfect charm.

XXIV.

JEOLIXN HARP.

Is

it all

in vain ?

Strangely throbbing pain,

Trembling joy of menaory

how shadowy

Bygone

things,

Within

theu' graves they

Shall I sit then

by

lie!

their graves,

Listening to the melancholy waves ?

I would

fain.

But even these

in

vapours die:

For nothing may remain.

One

On

survivor in a boat

the wide dim deep

When

the sunken ship

afloat.
is

gone.

Lit by late stars before the dawn.

63

^OLIAN UAEP.
The

sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are

The

ship

is

sunk

full

Dream no more

many

a year.

of loss or gain

ship was never here.

dawn

will never, never

Is

it all

in vain ?

dumb.

come.

XXV
LADY ALICE.
I.

Now

what doth Lady Ahcc

Without a lamp

When

so hvte on tlie turrut stair,

to light her, but the

diamond in her hair.

every arching passage overflows with shallow

gloom,

And dreams
room

float

through the

castle, into

every silent

She trembles at her footsteps, although they

fall

so

light;

Through the
night

turret loopholes she sees the wild mid-

Broken vapours streaming across the stormy sky

Down
She

And

the empty corridors the blast doth

steals along a gallery

fast

cry.

she pauses by a door

her tears are dropping

floor;

moan and

down upon the oaken

!;

LADY ALICE.

And

thrice she seems returning

again

Now

Qo

but

thrice she turns

heavy

lie

the cloud of sleep on that old father's

brain

Oh, well

it

were that never shouldst thou waken from

thy sleep

For wherefore should they waken, who waken but to

weep

No more, no more beside thy bed doth

But Woe,

lion that awaits

Peace a vigil keep,

thy rousing

for its leap.

II.

An
But

afternoon of April, no sun appears on high.

a moist

and yellow lustre fills the deepness of the sky

And through the castle-gateway, left empty and

Along the

They

leafless

stop.

avenue an honour'd bier

The long

line closes

up

like

is

forlorn.

borne.

some gigantic

worm

shape

is

form.

standing in the path, a

wan and

ghost-like

LADY ALICE.

66

Which
Then,

gazes fixedly

nor moves, nor utters any sound

like a statue built of

snow, sinks down upon the

ground.

And though

her clothes are ragged, and though her

feet are hare,

And though
brown

wild and tangled

all

the bloom

With

her heavy

silk-

hair

Though from her

They know

falls

eyes the brightness, from her cheeks

is fled,

their

silence, in

Lady

her

Alice, the darling of the dead.

own

old

room the fainting form

they lay,

Where

all

fled

But who

things stand unalter'd since the night

slio

away

hut who

shall bring to life her fiithcr iVoni

the clay ?
Ihit

who

shall give her

day?

back again her heart of a former

XXVI.

THERANIA.
O Unknowit

Belov'd One

Branches

in

the lawn

Vase and plot burn

Come

make drooping bow'rs

tall

and azure

grey turret,

pale passion-flow'rs.

thou,

come thou

O Unknown

Now,

to the mellow season

scarlet, gold,

Honeysuckles wind the

And

to

my

lonely thought,

Belov'd One.

at evening twilight,

dusky dew down-wavers,

Soft stars crown the grove-encircled hill

Breathe the new-mown meadows, broad and misty

Through the heavy grass the

All beside

Trace with

rail is

talking

is still.

me the

wandering avenue,

Unknown

Belov'd One.
y 2

THEEANIA.

68

In the mystic realm, and in the time of

I thy lover have no need to

woo

visions,

There I hold thy hand in mine, thou dearest,

And thy

soul in mine,

and

feel its

Tender, deep, and true

Then my

throbbing,

tears are love, and thine are love,

Unknown

Is thy voice a wavelet

Belov'd One

on the listening darkness

Are thine eyes imfolding from their

"Wilt

veil ?

thou come before the signs of winter

Days that shred the bough with trembling

Nights that weep and wail

Art thou Love indeed, or

Unknown

art

thou Death,

Belov'd One

fingers,

XXVII.

WATCONNELL TOWEE.
The

tangling wealth by June amass'd,

Left rock and ruin vaguely seen

Thick ivy-cables held them

fast,

Light boughs descended, floating green.

Slow tum'd the

And,

When
Was

stair,

a breathless height,

far above, it set

all

me

free.

the golden fan of light

closing

down

into the sea.

window half-way up the wall

It led to

The

and so high was that,

tallest trees

were not so

tall

That they could reach to where I

sat.

WATCONNELL

TOWICII.

Aloft witliiu the niouldcr'd tower,

Dark

Where

slowly, in the deepening hour,

The

The

ivy fringed its round of sky,

first faint stars

unveil'd on high.

rustling of the foliage dim,

The murmur

With

of the cool grey tide,

tears that trembled

An

on the brim,

echo sad to these I sigh'd.

Sea,

thy

ripple's

mournful tune

The cloud along the

The phantom

sunset sleeps

of the golden

moon

Is kindled in thy quivering deeps,

Oh, mournfully!

and

I to

fill,

Fix'd in a ruin-window strange,

Some

countless period, watching

moon, a

sea,

still

that never change

71

WATCONNELL TOWER.
The guided orb

is

mounting slow

The duteous wave

And now,

as

fast

from the niche I go,

A shadow joins
Farewell

ebbing

is

dim

the shadowy past.

ruins

tower and

life

Sadly enrich the distant view

And

welcome, scenes of

To-morrow's sun

toil

arises

and

new.

strife

XXVIII.

THE WITCH-BRIDE.
A

FAIE witch crept to a young man's

side,

And

he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But

And

fiU'd the

And

he saw how in his arms there lay

Shape came

in at the

dead of night,

room with snowy

light.

thing more frightful than mouth

And

may

say.

he rose in haste, and foUow'd the Shape

Tin morning crown' d an eastern cape.

And he

When

girded himself and follow'd

sunset sainted the western

still,

hill.

But, mocking and tliwarting, clung to his

Weary day

the

foul Witch-Bride.

side,

XXIX.

SPRING
Ye

IS

COME.

coax the timid verdure

Along the
Blue

skies

And
The

hills of Spring,

and gentle breezes,

soft clouds

wandering

quire of birds on budding spray,

Loud larks

in ether sing

A fresher pulse, a wider day,

Give joy to everything.

The gay translucent morning

Lies gHttering on the sea.

The noonday

sprinkles shadows

Athwart the

daisied lea

! :

srni.NG IS coMK.

The round Sun's sinking

scarlet rim

In vapour hideth he,

Tlie darkling hours arc cool and dim,

As vernal night should

be.

Our Earth has not grown aged,

With

her countless years

all

She works, and never wearies.

Is glad, and nothing fears

The glow

of

air,

broad land and wave,

In season re-appears

And

shall,

when slumber

in the grave

These human smiles and

Oh, rich

in

tears.

songs and colours.

Thou joy-reviving Spring

Some hopes

are chill' d with winter

Whose term thou

Some

voices answer not thy call

When
Some

canst not bring.

sky and woodland ring,

faces

come not back

at all

With primrose-blossoming.

SPRING

The

COME.

IS

75

distant-flying swallow,

The upward-yearning
Find nature's promise

seed,

faithful,

Attain their humble meed.

Great Parent

thou hast

also form'd

These hearts which throb and bleed

With

love, truth, hope, their life hast

And what

is

best, decreed.

warm'd,

XXX.

THE MESSENGEE.
A

MESSENGER, that stood beside

my

bed,

In words of clear and cruel import

said,

(And yet methought the tone was

less unkind,)

" I bring thee pain of

"

Each

gift of

each must pay a

Nor flight, nor

Until

force,

my brother

Affliction is

body and of mind."

my

toll to

me

nor suit can set thee free

come, I say not when

name, unloved of men."

I swoon' d, then bursting up in talk deranged,

Shatter'd to tears
I held

And

while he stood by unchanged.

my peace, my

heart with courage burn'd.

to his cold touch one faint sigh retum'd.

THE MESSENGEB.
Undreamt-of wings
" I vanish.

lie lifted,

Never be

Lest I waylay thee

For a while

afraid to smile

curse

"

me

not

nay, love

That I may bring thee tidings from above."

And

often since,

The

face obdurate

by day or night, descends

quite to Faith

The word.

now almost

To both

a friend's.

but Frailty's

lips

not dare

this angel taught a pray 'r.

" Lord God, thy servant,

wounded and

bereft,

Feels thee upon his right hand and his

Hath jo}^
All this

in grief,

is

and

gone, yet

still

all

left

by losing gains

myself remains

!"

XXXI.

AUTUMNAL SONNET.
Now

Autumn's

And day by day

And night by
Wails

in the

O'er empty

fire

burns slowly along the woods,

the dead leaves

night the monitory blast

key -hole, telling how

fields,

pass'd

and now the power

Of melancholy, tenderer

Than any joy

it

or upland solitudes,

Or grim wide wave

Dear

and melt,

fall

moods

in its

indulgent

summer

friends, together in the

is felt

dealt.

ghmmering

eve,

Pensive and glad, with tones that recognise

It

The

soft invisible

may

be,

dew on each

somewhat thus we

one's eyes.

shall

To walk with memory, when

have leave

distant lies

Poor Eaiili, where we were wont to

live

and grieve.

THE MUSIC-MASTER

.5?-,

c5?

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

PAET

I.

I.

Music and Love

I will for

Where

fair

young

sing,

tale,

listeners in a ring

echoes gather'd from an Irish vale,

still,

Though

If lovers hear me

them essay the simple

To hold some
With

methinks, abide

I not with them,

mj

golden years,

far discern' d

through

II

When
And

evening

fell

brother

upon the

fields,

Unlike where flaring

The

kiss of

village street

reposing hand in hand.

cities

scorn to meet

dusk that quiets

'Twas pleasant laziness to

all

loiter

the land,

by

Houses and cottages, a friendly spy.

tears.

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.

82

III.

And

hear the frequent fiddle that woukl glide

Through

jovial

mazes of a

jig or reel,

sink from sob to sob with plaintive slide,

Or

Or mount the
For our old

steps of swift exulting zeal

village

was with music

fill'd

Like any grove where thrushes wont to build.

IV.

Mixt with the roar of bellows and of

flame,

Perhaps the reed-voice of a clarionet

From

forge's

open ruddy shutter came

Or round some hearth were

"Where the low

flute,

silent people set,

with plaintive quivering, ran on

Through "Colleen Dhas"

or "

Hawk

of Ballyshannon.'

T.

Or

pictured on those bygone, shadowy nights

I see a

group of

girls at

needlework.

Placed round a candle throwing soft half-lights

On

the contrasted faces, and the dark

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

And

fair-hair'd heads, a

And many

83

bunch of human

flow 'rs

a ditty cheers th' industrious hours.

VI.

Pianoforte's sound from curtain'd pane

Would join

the lofty to the lowly roof

In the sweet links of one harmonious chain

And

"Hope

often
of

down the

street

some Glee's old woof,

my heart" " Ye Shepherds" "

Lightly

tread,"

Woxild mesh

my

steps or

wrap me

in

my

bed.

TII.

The most

delicious chance, if

we should

hear,

Pour'd from our climbing glen's enfoliaged

At dusk some

I'ocks,

solitary bugle, clear,

Eemote, and melancholy; echo mocks

The

Up

strain delighted, wafting

it

afar

to the threshold of the evening star.

Till.

And Q-erald was

our music-master's

Young Gerald White

name

whose mother, not long wed,

g2

THE MUSIC-MASTEU.

84

Only to make him ours by birthright came.

Her Requiescaf

have often read,

Wlicrc thickest ivy hangs

its

ancient pall

Over the dumb and desolate abbey

wall.

IX.

The

father found a music-pupil rare,

More ready
His

art

still

to learn than he to teach

no longer was his only

But now young Gerald with

And

care,
it,

each for each

with a secret and assiduous joy

The grave musician taught

his

happy boy.

X.

The

boy's whole thought to Music lean'd and sway'd

He

heard a minor in the wind at mght,

And many

a tune the village noises play'd

The thunder

roar'd like bands before the

Of marching armies

The

falling brooklet

in deep

summer calm

would intone a psalm.

might

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

85

XI.

The Chapel

Was
And

organ-loft, his father's seat,

to the child his earthly paradise;

that celestial one that used to greet

His infant dreams, could take no other guise

Than

And

visions of green curtains

angels of

whom

and gold

quire-gu-ls

j^ipes,

were the

tj-pes.

XII.

Their fresh young voices from the congregation,

Train'd and combined by simple rules of chant,

And

lifted

from the lofty organ, ministrant

lioll'd

To

on the harmonious modulation

sacred triumph, well might bring a thought

Of angels

there,

perhaps themselves

it

brought.

XIIT.

Poor

girls

the most were

mountain mavis,

Another

And

in close lane

in

this one

had her

nest,

the craggy furze

must

toil

and

rest,

never cage-bird's song more fine than hers,

8G

TIIF,

llumiuing at work

all

MUSIC-MASTER.

through the busy week,

Set free in Sabbath chorus, proud and meek.

XIV.

And when

j'oung Gerald might adventure forth

Through Music-land,

And

singing

And

fly

where hope and memory

beyond the bourne of

the whole spirit

full

earth,

of aching bliss

"Would follow as the parting shrouds reveal

Glimpses

ineffable,

but soon conceal,

XT.

"While

mayhap, and distant

all tlie hills,

plain.

Village and brook were shaded, fold on fold,

"With the slow dusk, and on the purpling pane

Soft twilight barr'd with crimson and with gold

Lent to that simple

little

house of prayer

richly solemn, a cathedral air

XVI.

His symphonies to
Suffused

it

suit the

dying close

with a voice that could not ask

kiss

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
In vaia

for tears

Who in

the dew

not ask in vain from those

fulfill' d

their pious task,

Kneeling with rosaries beside a grave

To whom

87

a heavenly comforting

it

gave.

XTII.

Thus

village years

Day

went by.

after

day

Flow'd, as a stream unvext with storms or floods

Flows by some

Where

islet

with a hawthorn grey

circling seasons bring a share of buds,

Nests, blossoms, ruddy

Of withering

fruit,

and, in their turn.

leaves and frosty twigs forlorn.

XVIII.

So went the years, that never may abide

Boyhood

to

manhood, manly prime to

Ceaselessly gliding on, as

still

they glide

age,
;

Until the father yields for heritage

(Joyful, yet with a sigh) the master's place

To Gerald

who could hig-her fortune

yrrace.

THE MISIC-MASTKR.

88

XIX.

But the shy youth

And now,

lias

yet his hours of leisure

the Spring upon the emerald

Dancing with flying clouds, how keen

Plunged

in

hills

pleasure,

deep glens or tracking upland

Till lessening liglit reeal

To

liis

him from

rills,

roaming

his

breathe his gather'd secrets to the gloaming.

XX.

Spring was around him, and within him too.

Delightful season

Bounds

without a spur

gaily forward, and the heart

As the green wand

And

life

fresh

is

budded on

new
a

fir

Nature, into jocund chorus waking,

Tempts every young

voice to her merry-making.

XXI.

Gerald, high echoing this delightful Spring,

Pour'd from his finger-tips

electric jtower

In audible creations swift of wing.

Till

sunshine glimpsing through an April shower,

89

THE IIUSIC-MASTEE.

And

clouds,

and

delicate glories,

Of lucid sky came melting

and the bound

into sound.

XXII.

Our

ear receives in

common with

our eye

One Beauty, flowing through a

With melody
Its

Of

hue

form, and

its

different gate,

harmony

one mystic Beauty

is

the mate

Spirit indivisible, one love

Her

look, her voice, her

memory do move.
XXIII.

Yet sometimes

Not

in his playing

came a tone

learn'd of sun or shadow,

But thoughts

so

much

his

wind or brook.

own he dared not own.

Nor, prizing much, appraise them

In

fear to lose

dared not look

an image undefined

That brighten'd every

vista of his mind.

XXIV.

Two

pupils dwelt

upon the

river-side.

At Cloonamore, a cottage near the rush

THE MUSIC-MASTETl.

90

Of narrow'd waters breaking from

And

i)ond-like smoothness,

Dark groves

and here

a wide

brimming green and

Ihisli

for Gerald, truth to say,

His weekly task was more than holiday.

IXV.

quiet

home

it

As a wren's

Had

nest.

in her labours

Being summon'd to a

And

compact and neat

gentle

woman's choice

and beautified the green retreat

built

But

was

might she not

stiller ])lace

rejoice,

of rest

spent her last breath in a dear behest.

XXVT.
That was

for

plain,

her two daughters

she had

wed

rough husband, though a kind and true

And "Dearest

Bernard," from her dying bed

She whispcr'd, " Promise me you'll try to do

For Ann and

If

God had

INIilly

spared

what was

me

at

to perform

my
my

heart,

part."

;;

!;

91

THE MTJSIC-MASTER.
XXVII.

As

well as no abundant purse allow 'd,

Or

The

as the

father kept his promise, and

To

Two

neighbouring village could supply,

see the girls

grow up beneath

ladies in their culture

Though not the

was proud
his eye

and their mien

a gulf between.

less there lay

XXVIII.

spirit unrefined

An

the elder had,

envious eye, a tongue of petty scorn.

That women these may own

And

Than

how

her meaner to the dullest sight

stands a yellow

lily

with a white.

XXIX.

"White

lily,

Milly, darling

little girl

I think I see as once I saw her stand

Her

sad

though Ann had been a countess born,

these,

Had mark'd

how true

soft hair

waving

Behind her ear

in a single curl

a kid licking her

hand

THE MISTC-MASTEH.

!)'J

Her

fair

And

loose frock

young

face with health

and

raeiiig

warm,

blown about her slender form.

XXX.

The

dizzy lark, a dot on the white cloud,

That

sprinkles music o'er the vernal breeze,

AVas not more gay than Milly's joyous

mood

Tlie silent lark that starry twilight sees

Cradled

among the

Not more

braird in closest bower,

quiescent than her tranquil hour.

XXXI.

Her mind was

open, as a flowery cup

That gathers richness from the sun and dew,

To knowledge, and
The wholesome

as easily

drew up

sap of life; unwateh'd

it

grew,

lovely blossom in a shady place

And

like her

mind, so was her innocent

XXXII.

At

all

times

fair, it

never look'd so

As when the holy glow

fair

of harmonies

face.

93

THE MUSIC-MA STEB.

Lighted

An
With

it tlirougli

her spirit as

it

were

azure heav'n outshining at her eyes

G-erald's tenor while the fountain

Of her

contralto, fresh

sprung

and pure and young.

XXXIII.

In

3'^ears

Child

a child
is

she

when

still,

lessons thus began,

yet nearly

woman grown

For childhood stays with woman more than man,

In voice and cheek and mouth, nor these alone

And up

May

the sky with no intense revealing

the great

dawn

of

womanhood come

stealing.

XXXIV.

Now

must the moon of childhood's trembling white

Faint in the promise of her flushing heaven

Looks are turn'd eastward, where new orient light

Suffuses all the air with subtle leaven

And shadowy

mountain-paths begin to show

Their unsuspected windings 'mid the glow.

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.

Oi

XXXT.

Her

silky locks

Her

And

have ripcn'd into brown,

soft blue eyes

grown deeper and more

lightly on her lifted head the crown

Of queenly maidenhood

Her

sli}',

sits

meek and high

frank soul lives in her ingenuous voice,

Most purely tuned

to sorrow or rejoice.

XXXTI.

'

Within the Chapel on a Sunday morn

She bows her mild head near the

And

raises

up that mild

Into the singing

full

voice

altar-rail,

unworn

should a Sunday

fail,

There's one would often mark her empty seat,

Tlicre's one

would

find their

anthem incomplete.

XXXVIl.

Few

her companions

And
The

are,

and few her books

in a ruin'd convent's circling shade,

loveliest of tranquil river-nooks.

Where

trailing birch,

fit

bow'r for gentle maid,

95

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

And

feather' d fir-tree half shut out the stream,

She often

sits

alone to read or di-eam.

XXXYIII.

Sometimes through

flitting figure

But ever past

leafy lattice she espies

on the other shore

enchanted precinct hies

th'

That wanderer, and where the rapids roar

Through verdured

crags, shelters his beating heart,

Foohshly bent to seek, yet stay apart.

XXXIX.

Then Milly can resume her

About a

real friend, that she could love

13ut finds her

broken thought

To what seem
The

how

long ere thy

apt to

is

other musings

days, and counted days

Milly

reverie,

move

own

flee

slowly

move

ever slowest

heart thou knowest

Xli.

Sooner than Gerald

his.

His path-side birds

Are scarcely more unconscious or more shrinking.

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.

9G

Yet would he

Did

love in simple words

love stand clearly in his simple thinking

High the

Who

tell his

discovery, and too high for one

counts his

life

as

though not yet begun.

ZLI.

For

all

And

the rest seem sage and busy

men

he alone despised, and justly too.

Or borne with merely

To deem
Slowly the

could he venture then

this rich inheritance his

fine

Its rareness,

due

and tender soul discerns

and

its lofty

station learns.

XLII.

And

now,

When

'tis

on a royal eventide

the ripe

And Summer by

month

sets

glowing earth and

a stream or thicket-side

Twists amber honeysuckles in her

hair,

Gerald and Milly meet by trembling chance,

And

step for step are moving, in a trance.

air,

97

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
XLIII.

Their pathway foliage-curtain'd and moss-grown

trees the white flood flashing swift,

Behind the

Through many moist and ferny rocks flung down,

Roars

How

oft

steadily,

where sunHghts play and

they stop,

Nor how the

how

shift.

long, they nothing know,

pulses of the evening go.

XLIV.

Their talk

Lit up in

The

the dappled hyacinthine glade

points of
how and
blue,

kine's deep lowing

The

is

soft

treble

by distance made,

quail's " twit-wit-wit," like a

hopping pebble

the dragonflies, the

noticed in few words.
The rustling twig,

Thrown along

birds,

ice,

all

XLV.

A level pond,

inlaid

with lucid shadows

Of groves and crannied

And

rural

cliffs

and evening sky,

domes of hay, where the green meadows

Slope to embrace

its

margin peacefully,

THE MUSIC-MASTEK.

98

The slumb'ring

And

here,

river to the rapid

upon a grassy

jut,

draws

they pause.

XLVI.

How

shy a strength

Its darling secret to itself to

Their rapt, illimitable

A beauteous

mood

fears

own

appears

miracle for each alone

Exalted high above

By

much

Love's, that so

is

all

range of hope

the pure soul's eternity of scope.

XLVII.

Yet

in

both hearts a prophecy

Of how

this evening's

is

breathed

phantom may

arise,

In richer hues than ever sunlight wreathed

On

hill

or

wood

or

wave

in

brimming eyes

The glowing landscape melts away from each

And

full

their

bosoms

swell, too full for speech.

XLVIII.
Is

it

a dream ?

Stand

The

countless

silently into the

happy

stars

deepening blue

THE MUSIC-MASTER.
In slow procession

all

the molten bars

Of cloud move down

Eve

scatters roses

99

the

air is

dim with dew

on the shroud of day

The common world

sinks far

and

far

away,

XLIX.

With goodnight
Sinks to

Where

its

kiss the zephyr, half asleep,

cradle in the dusk of trees.

river-chimings tolling sweet and deep

Make

lullaby,

The Summer's

and

all field-scents

that please

children float into the

gloom

Dream-interwoven in a viewless loom.

L.

Clothed with an earnest paleness, not a blush,

And
Each

with th' angelic gravity of love.

lover's face

Is like a saint's

amid the twilight hush

whose thoughts are

In perfect gratitude

And

o'er

them

for heavenly

for a halo

boon

all

above

comes the moon.

h2

THE MUSIC-M.VSTEU.

100

LI.

Thus through the

They

linger

loaves ami the

homeward.

dim dewy

croft

Flowers around their

Bless them, and in the firmament aloft

And

Night's silent ardours.

Though

stretching years from

an hour too

all tlie life

fleet,

before,

Conducts their footsteps to her cottage door.

LTI.

Thenceforth they meet more timidly

Some

in truth,

lovers might, but all are not the

same

In the clear ether of their simi)le youth

Steady and white ascends the sacred flame.

They do not shrink

More

hereafter

rather seek

converse, but with graver voices speak.

Lni.

One theme

at last preferred to every other,

Joying to talk of that mysterious land

Where each
Best of

all

enshrines

tlie

image of a mother

watchers in the guiu'dian band

feet

THE MTJSIC-MASTEE.

To

highest, tenderest thought

Amid

is

this unembarrass'd air of

101

freedom given

Heaven.

LIV,

Tor when a hymn has wing'd

On
And

itself

away

Palestrina's full-resounding chords,

at the trellis'd

window

loiter they,

Deferring their goodnight with happy words,

Almost they know, without a throb of

Of spirits

fear.

in the twilight standing near.

LV.

And day by
And Love

day and week by week pass by,

still

poised upon a trembling plume

Floats on the very verge of sovereignty,

Where

ev'n a look

may

call

him

to assume

The

rich apparel

And

claim two loyal subjects for his own,

and the shining throne.

LYI.

Wondrous, that

Coming

first, full,

mutual look of love

ere either looker

is

aware

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

102

Unbounded

trust, a tenderness

All tenderness

mute music,

speecbless pruy'r

and might.

Life's mystery, reality,

Soft-swimming

above

in a single ray of light

LVII.

when

shall fly this talismanic gleam,

Which
Which

melts like lightning every prison-bar,

penetrates the mist with keener

Than

flows from sun or

Love waits

Tir imperial

and

moon

or any star ?

like a pebble of the

gem

lies

beam

ground

willing to be found.

LTIII.

One

evening, Gerald

came before

his hour,

Distrustful of the oft-consulted clock

And

waits, with no companion,

Keeping the time

Whose
Each

his flow'r

as one of Flora's flock.

slu'i)herdess, the

in its leaves

till

he

Sunset Star, doth fold

may

again behold.

THE MUSIC-MA.STEB.

103

LIX.

Nor

thinks

it

A sanctity
Autumnal

long.

Familiar

all,

and

pervades the silent room.

the season of the year

is

dear,

mystic softness and love-weighty gloom

In a dream he lays

Gather with twilight.

His hand on the piano, dreaming plays.

LX.

Most

faint

and broken sounds at

Into the shadowy stillness

first

are stealing

wild and slow,

Imperfect cadences of captive feeling,

Gathering

strength, and yet afraid to

its

Its chance of freedom,

till

know

on mnrmuring chords

Tir unguarded thought strays forth in passionate words.

LXI.

Angel of Music
Is

when our

finest

speech

aU too coarse to give the heart

The inmost

fountains

lie

relief,

within thy reach,

Soother of every joy and every grief;

TUE MUSIC-MA8TEE.

104

And

to the stumbling words tliou lendest wings

On which

aloft th' enfranchised spirit springs.

LXII.

Much

love

And

may

in not

many words be

told

on the sudden love can speak the best.

These mystical melodious buds unfold,

On

every petal showing clear imprest

The name

of Love.

So Gerald sung and play'd

Unconscious of himself,

in twilight shade.

LXIII.

He

has not overheard (0 might

This

stifled

Where Milly

By
Than

To joy

the

be

!)

sobbing at the open door,

stands arrested tremblingly

that which in an instant

all

it

tells

dumb months mused

that cannot comprehend

its

her more

of; tells it plain

gain.

LXIV.

One moment, and they

Free in the

shall be face to face,

gift of this great confidence,

105

THE MUSIC-MA STEE.

Wrapt

No

in the throbbing

more to disunite

The myrtle crown

But ah

what

calm of

embrace,

its

their spirits thence.

stoops close to either brow,

alien voice distracts

them now

LXV.

Her

sister

And

comes.

Milly turns away

Hurriedly beai'ing to some quiet spot

Her

tears

On

When

and her

full heart,

dim pillow cheeks

longing to lay

so moist

and hot.

midnight stars between her curtains gleam

Fair Milly sleeps, and dreams a happy dream.

LXVI.

dream, poor child

beneath the midnight stars

slumber through the kindling of the dawn

The shadow's on
The

lily

even

now

All has been long

At thought

its

way
is

the storm that mars

hurrying on.

fulfill'd

yet I could weep

of thee so quietly asleep.

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.

lOG

LXVII.
IJut (Jenild,

through the night serenely spread,

Walks quickly home,

intoxicate with bliss

Not named and not examined

The

New

overhead

clustering lights of worlds are full of this

element

the soft wind's dusky wings

Grow warmer on

his cheek, with whispering^.

LXVIII.

And

yet to-night he has not seen his Love.

His Love

in that

one word

Reaching from earth to those

And making common

all

comfort dwells

clear flames above.

food of miracles.

Kind pulsing Nature, touch of Deity,

Sure thou art

full

of love, which lovers see!

LXIX.
^lost cruel Nature, so unmoved, so hard,

The while thy

children shake with joy or pain

Tliou wilt not forward Love, nor Death retard

One

ljnger-i)usli, for

mortal's dearest gain.

107

THE MUSIC-MASTER.
Our Gerald, through the night serenely

Walks quickly home, and

spread,

finds his father dead.

LXX.

God's awe must be where the

Though but the ending

Though
Or

comes down,

of a weary strife.

years on years weigh low the hoary crown,

sickness tenant all the house of

Stupendous ever

The

last stroke

is

life

the great event.

frozen form most strangely different

LXXI.

To Gerald

follow'd

many

doleful days,

Like wet clouds moving through a sullen sky,

vast unlook'd-for change the

And smites

its

mind dismays,

world with instability

Rocks appear quaking, towers and

Peace

foolish,

treasiu-es vain.

Joy disgusting, Hope

insane.

LXXII.

For even Cloonamore, that image

Returns to Gerald's mind

dear,

like its

own

ghost,


108

Tin;

MUSIC-MASTEB.

In melancholy garments,

(Iri-neli'd

Its joy, its colour, and its

Wanting one token

(How

almost gain'd

and

welcome

sere,

lost.

sure to lean upon,

!)

his

happy dream

is

gone.

LXXIII.

Distracted purposes, a homeless band.

Throng

To

in his meditation

rest his soul

Now

tlies

on Milly's cheek and hand,

he makes outcry on his fantasies

For busy cheats

How

now he

the lesson not yet leurn'd

Life's true coast

from vapour

is

discern'd.

LXXIV.

Ah me
To
With

'tis like

hear

it

" Past

is

past,

and gone

looking back afar to see

We could have
High

the tolling of a bell

fortune.

how

is

gone

;"

well

'scaped our losses, and have

Ever greatest turns on

won

least,

Like Earth's own whirl to atom poles decreased.

109

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
LXXT.
in the gloomiest houi' a letter came,

For

Shot arrow-like across the Western

Praising the

As many

West

a time ere

Dropp'd at his

To

heart,

its

feet,

Gerald

sea,

message was the same

now had

languidly

but this the rude gale bore

will quit our Irish shore.

LXXTI.

And

quit his

Who loves

Love

him

whom

just as

Nay, dear mild maiden

That somewhere

step,

but one

much

Surely

in the

For innocent bhndness

One

he completely loves

Nay, downcast youth

it

behooves

day there should be ruth

? lead, oh,

Their

fates

lead

them now

do not allow.

LXXTII.

The parting

The

scene

brief

and frosty dumb.

unlike sisters stand alike

For MiUy's soul

That

is

reft

is

unmoved

wilder'd, weak,

away which seem'd

and numb,

so dearly proved.

THE MUSIC-MASTEH.

110

Wliile thought and speech she struggles to recover

Her hand

prcst

is

and he

is

gone

for ever.

Lxxvni.

Time speeds

on an Octoher afternoon

Across the well-known view he looks his

The

last

valley clothed with peace and fruitful boon,

The

chapel where such happy hours were pass'd,

With rainbow -colour' d

And windows

round

foliage

all a-glitter

its eaves,

through the

leaves.

LXXIX.

The

cottage-smokes, the river

gaze no more,

Sad heart although thou canst

!

The

vision future years will oft restore,

Whereon the

The

not, wouldst not

stars of

Mingled

light of

many

many

summer

sun.

a winter night shall be

memory.

in one strange sighing

END OF rxBT

1.

shun

THE MUSIC-MASTEK
f oh

g.

PAET

^torg.

II.

I.

The shadow Death

With

o'er

never-halting pace from

Blotting the sunshine

Each

And

Time's broad

living

mark

dial creeps

to mark,

as it coldly sweeps,

symbol melts into the dark,

changes to the name of what

Shade-measnred

light, progression

it

was

proved by

loss.

II,

Blithe Spring expanding into Summer's cheer,

Great

Summer

ripening into Autumn's glow,

The yellow Autumn and the wasted

And

hoary-headed Winter stooping slow

Under the dark arch up again

Have

year,

five

to Spring,

times compass' d their appointed ring.

;;

THE MU8IC-MA.8TEE.

112

III.

See once again our village

Dozing
Is silence

Some

From

in

with

street

All around

dusty sunshine.

save, for

its

slumber not unmeet,

spinning-wheel's continuous whirring sound

cottage door, where, stretch'd upon his side,

The moveless dog

is

basking, drowsy-eyed.

IT.

Each hollyhock within each

little

wall

Sleeps in the richness of its crusted blooms

Up

the hot glass the sluggish blue

The heavy bee

is

humming

Through open window,

Bringing

witli

like a

him warm

flies

crawl

into rooms

sturdy rover.

scents of

thyme and

clover.

V.

From

little

Smell

cottage-gardens you almost

tlie fruit

Opprest to

ripening on the sultry air

silence,

every bird

In eave and hedgerow

is

lost

save that liere and there

113

THE MTJSIC-MASTBB.

With

twitter swift, the sole unquiet thing,

Shoots the dark hghtning of a swallow's wing.

VI.

Yet

in this

One

is

hour of sunny peacefulness

there whom, its influence little calms,

One who now

leans in

agony to press

His throbbing forehead with his throbbing palms,

Now

paces quickly up and

The narrow

down within

parlour of the village inn.

VII.

He

thought he covld have tranquilly beheld

The

scene again.

Spread level in the

To

find once

He

thought his

soul, could

faithful grief.

not have swell'

more a passionate

rehef.

Three years, they now seem hours, have sigh'd their

breath
Since

when he heard the

tidings of her death.

VIII.

Last evening in the latest dusk he came,

A holy

pilgrim from a distant land

I

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

114

And

objects of familiar face

As

at the

Kose round

move

and name,

of a miraculous wand,

his steps

bed-room window show'd

his

His small white birthplace just across the road.

IX.

Yet

in that

room he could not win repose

The image

of the past perplex'd his

mind

Often he sigh'd and tum'd, and sometimes rose

To bathe

And

his forehead in the cool night-wind.

vaguely watch the curtain broad and grey

Lifting anew from the bright scene of day.

X.

When
He

creeping sultry hours from noontide go,

rounds the hawthorn hedge's wellknown turn.

Melting in Midsummer

And through

its

bloomy snow.

the chapel gate.

His heart forlorn

Draws strength and comfort from the pitying

Whereat he bows with

reverential sign.

shrine

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

115

XI.

Behind

tlie

chapel,

down

a sloping

hill,

Circling the ancient abbey's ivied walls

The graveyard

sleeps.

A little

gurgling

Pour'd through a corner of the ruin,

rill

falls

Into a dusky-water'd pond, and lags

With

lazy eddies 'mid its yellow flags.

XII.

Across this pool, the hollow banks enfold

An
And

orchard overrun with rankest grass,

gnarl'd and mossy apple-trees, as old

As

th' oldest graves almost

The smooth-worn

To many

and thither pass

stepping-stones that give their aid

a labourer and milking-maid,

XIII.

And

not unfrequently to rustic bound

On

more solemn errand,

A suppliant
Let

all

when we

in such universal ground,

be reverence and sympathy

I

see

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

116
Assured
Is that

tlie lilb in

evoiy real pray'r

which makes our

life

of

life

to share.

XIV.

But
Is

And

resting in the smishine very lone

now each hammock green and wooden

save the

rillet in its

That poppling

Down

falls,

to the quiet

To break

cross

cup of stone

and whispers through the moss

jiool,

no sound

is

near

the stilliness to Gerald's ear.

XV.

The writhcn

The

elder spreads its

its

exquisite perfume

In shy luxuriance

With

creamy bloom

thicket-tangling, tenderest briar-rose

Kisses to air

elvish crimson

leaning foxglove glows

nor

all

vainly meet

The eye which unobserved they seem

to greet.

XVI.

Under the abbey wall he wends

his

way,

Admitted through a portal arching deep,

117

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.
roof excludes the

To where no

common day

Though some few tombstones

in the

shadows sleep

Of hoary fibres and a throng of leaves,

Which

venerable ivy slowly weaves.

XVII.

First hither comes, in piety of heart,

Over

The

his mother's, father's grave to bend,

faithful exile.

While

his sincere

As such devout

Let us stand apart.

and humble pray'rs ascend,

aspirings do,

To Him who sow'd them

we

trust.

in our breathing dust.

XVIII,

And

our very thoughts lest they intrude

veil

(Oh, silent death

Where

lies

oh, living pain full sore

!)

enwrapt in grassy solitude

That gentle matron's grave, of Cloonamore,

And on

the stone these added words are seen

" Also, her daughter Milly, aged eighteen."

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

lis

XIX.

Profound the voiceless aching of the breast,

When

weary

Emptied

life is

like a

grey dull eve

of colour, withering

Around the

prostrate

sovil,

and waste
too weak to grieve

Stretch'd far below the tumult and strong cry

Of passion

lamenting but a sigh.

its

XX.

Griefs mystery desire not to disperse.

Nor wish the

secret of the world outspoken

'Tis not a toy, this vital Universe,

That thus

its

inner caskets

may

be broken.

Sorrow and pain, as well as hope and

love.

Stretch out of view into the heavens above.

XXT.
Yet, oh

the cruel coldness of the grave.

The keen remembrance

The thoughts which

The sudden

of the

happy

are at once tyrant

past,

and

slave,

sense that drives the soul aghast.

!!

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
The drowning
That

fain

119

horror, and the speechless strife,

would sink to death

or rise to

life

XXII.

As

Grerald lifted

He

up

his

paUid

face,

grew aware that he was not

Amid

alone.

the silence of the sacred place

Another form was stooping

A greyhair'd

woman's.

o'er the stone

When

she

She shriek'd aloud in her extreme

met

his eyes

surprise.

XXIIT.

"

The Holy Mother keep us day and night

And who

is

this ?

Oh, Master Gerald,

dear,

I little thought to ever see this sight

Warm

My
To

to the

King above

praises for the

all

my

pray'rs

I offer here

answer he has sent

for

now

I'll die

content

!"

XXIV.

Then,

as if talking to herself, she said,

" I nursed her

when she was

a little child.

120

TUE MUSIC-MASTEE.

I smooth'd the pillow of her dying bed.

And just

the

Wlien sleeping

Was

way that she had

in her cradle

on her face with'the

often smiled

that same look

last kiss I took."

XXV.

" 'Twas

And

"

in the days of

so it

The wrinkled

is

March," she said again.

the sweetest blossom dies,

leaf

hangs on, though

I thought your hand would close

And

falling fain.

my

poor old eyes,

not that I'd be sitting in the sun

Beside your grave,

the Lord's good

will

be done

XXVI.

Thus incoherently the woman spoke,

With many

interjections full of

And wrapping
Began

herself

woe

up within her cloak

to rock her body to and fro

And moaning
Of outward

softly,

life

in

seem'd to lose

all

memories so intense.

sense

!"

12]

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
XXVII.
Till

Gerald burst his silence and exclaim' d,

With
"

the most poignant earnestness of tone,

nurse, I loved her

The name

though I never named

of love to her, or any one.

"

'Tis to her grave here

But

He

could say no more,

these few words a load of meaning bore.

XXVIII.

Beside the tombstone mute they both remain' d.

At

last

the

woman

rose,

and coming near,

Said with a tender voice that had regain'd

A tremulous

calm, "

The whole from

Then you must

surely hear

to last, cuslila-ma-cTiree

first

For God has brought together you and me."

XXIX.

And

there she told

him

Broken with many

How

all

tears

the moving

and sobs and sighs

gentle Milly's health began to

How

tale,

fail

a sad sweetness grew within her eyes,

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.

122

And

trembled on

And

flush'd across her pale

lier

mouth, so kind and meek,

and patient cheek.

XXX.

And how

about this time her

sister

"Entered Religion,"* and her

Ann

father's

thought

Eefused in Milly's face or voice to scan,

Or once

so lively step, the change that

Until a sad conviction flew at

And

wrought

last.

with a barb into his bosom pass'd.

XXXI.

Then, with most anxious haste, her dear old nurse

Was
But

sent for to

still

become her nurse again

the pretty one grew worse and worse.

For with a gradual

And

lapsing, free of pain,

slow removes, that fond eyes would not

see,

Crept on the hopeful, hopeless malady.

XXXII.

Spring came, and brought no

Of

all it lavish' d in

the

gift of life to her,

fields

and woods.

Took conventual vows.

THE MUSIC-MASTEB.
Yet she was cheer' d when

123

began to

bii-ds

About the shrubbery, and the

stir

pale gold buds

Burst on the willows, and with hearty

The ploughing teams uptum'd the

toil

sluggish

soil.

XXXIIT.
" 'Twas on a cold

March

The nurse went

The long grey sky

The

on, "
;

evening, well I mind,"

we

sat

and watch'd together

and then the sun behind

clouds shone down, though not hke

summer

weather,

On

the

But

hills far

away.

I can't tell

why.

of a sudden I began to cry.

XXXTV.
" I dried

my

But then

And

tears before I turn'd to her,

saw that her eyes too were wet,

pale her face,

and calm without a

Whilst on the lighted

Where
As

if

hills

stir

her look was

strange beyond the cold dark

fields

set.

they lay,

her thoughts, too, journey'd far away.


;;

124

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
XXXY.

" After a while she ask'cl

A
I

drawer, and hring a

knew

it

was of

it

Her

to unlock
parcel out.

little

she wish'd to talk,

But long she held

And

me

it

in her

hand

in

doubt

whilst she strove, there came a blush and spread

and neck with a too passing red.

face

XXXTI.
"

At length
'

Dear

she put her other hand in mine

nurse,' she said,

Your promise

to

To make my

fulfil

'

what

last request,

You knew young Master

Grew

plain)

'

I'm sure

I need not ask

I design

and your

last task.

Gerald' (here her speech

that used to come here once to teach

XXXVII.
" I said I
'

Then

And he
And

knew you
listen

if

well

and she went on,

you ever

see

him more,

should speak of days are past and gone,

of his scholars and his friends before

?'

; ;

125

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
Should ask you questions

To me,

Oh

could I

knowing what you've been

tell

you what I mean

!'

XXXTIII.
" But,

sir,

Xot
I saw

I understood her meaning

fi'om her
it all

my

I took her in

words so much

we both

from her

eyes.

heart began to swell,

my

And murmurs, and

Till

as

weU

arms with many sighs

she lean'd upon

cried our

fill

my

neck

without a check.

XXXIX.
" She saw I

knew her mind, and bade me

Into your hand,

The

parcel

if

else, as

things shovJd so befall,

long as I should

It was to be a secret kept from

And

give

live,

all,

say you never wrote, never return' d,

When my

last

hour drew near, was to be bum'd.

XL.

" I promised to observe her wishes duly

But

said I

hoped in God that she would

still

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

12G

Live

many

While she was speaking,

Her countenance
Ah, dear

And

years beyond myself'.

truly

like a miracle

lost every sickly trace.

'twas setting light was in her face.

XLI.

" She told

And

And

me

watching by her

I sat

then I

she was tired, and went to bed,

lit

softly she

Was

full

dark,

her lamp, and round her head

Let down the curtains.

How

initil

'Twas

my

was breathing, and

of hope and comfort,

glad remark

my

mind

we're so blind

ILII.
"

The night wore

When
And

and I had

sprang up quickly.

Her own

fall'n asleep,

about three o'clock I heard a noise

Was some

And

on,

In the

silence deep

one praying with a calm weak voice

voice,

though not sounding just the same

in the pray'r I surely heard

your name.

127

THE MTJSIC-MASTEE.
XLIII.

" Sweet

How

Heaven we
!

scarce

had time to fetch the priest.

room

sadly through the shutters of that

Crept in the blessed daylight from the east

To

And

us that sat there weeping in the gloom

touch' d the close-shut eyes and peaceful brow,

But brought no

now.

fear of her being restless

XLIV.
"

The wake was

Where

And

neai"

From

quiet.

Noiseless went the hours

she was lying stretch' d so

and white

the bed, a glass with some Spring flowers

her

own

little

child here

Day and

garden.

I watch'd, until they took

The

still

my

night

lamb away,

by the mother's

side to lay,

XLT.
"

The holy
But

angels

little

Pray you

for

To have

make your

bed,

caU have we to pray

him

my
for

that's left behind

dear

you

you

here,

his heart consoled with heavenly

dew

THE MUSIC-MA.STEE.

128

And

pray too for your poor old nurse, asthore

Your own true mother

scarce could love

you more

!"

XLVI.

Slow were their

Over the

Where

stile

feet

amongst the many graves,

and up the chapel walk,

stood the poplars with their timid leaves

Hung

motionless on every slender stalk.

The

air in

And

thunder mutter'd in the heavy sky.

one hot calm appear'd to

lie,

XLVII.

Along the

Of boys

street

was heard the laughing sound

at play,

who knew no thought

of death

Deliberate-stepping cows, to milking bound.

Lifted their heads and low'd with fragrant breath

The women

knitting at their thresholds cast

look upon our stranger as he pass'd,

XLVIII.

Scarce had the mourners time a roof to gain,

"VMicn, with electric glare

and thunder-crash,

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

Heavy and

straight

and

fierce

came down the

Soaking the white road with

Driving

all folk

And making

129

its

rain,

sudden plash,

within-doors at a race.

every kennel gush apace,

XLIX.

The storm withdrew

And through
Glow'd

as quickly as it came,

the broken clouds a brUliant ray

o'er the dripping earth in yellow flame,

And flush' d
Sudden and

the village panes with parting day.

that

full

swimming

lustre shone

Into the room where Gerald sat alone.

L.

The door

is

The open

To

lock'd,

and on the table

parcel.

Long he wanted

strength

trust its secrets to his feverish eyes

But now the message

lies

note

One

a case

is

convey'd at length

and folded with them there

finest ringlet of

brown-auburn

hair.

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

130

LI.

The

case holds Milly's portrait

her

reflection

Lips half apart as though about to speak

The frank white brow, young

Even the pretty seam
Swift image of a

eyes of grave affection,

in the soft cheek

moment

snatch'cl

from Time,

Fix'd by a sunbeam in eternal prime.

LII.

The note ran

thus, "

Dear Gerald, near

my

death,

I feel that like a Spirit's words are these,

In which I

say, that I

In your true love

The

for

have perfect faith

me,

as

God, who sees

secrets of all hearts, can see in

That fondest truth which sends

mine

this feeble sign,

LIII.

" I do not think that he will take away.

Even

in

Heaven, this precious earthly love

Surely he sends

Down

as a

its

pure and blissful ray

message from the world above.

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.
Perhaps

the

it is

Which makes

full

131

hght drawing near

the doubting Past at length grow clear.

LIT.

"

We

might have been

so

happy

Said no,

who

may

power into your soul

his

And

But His

will

orders all things for the best.

peace like this of which I

And may he

instil

am

possess'd

bless you, love, for evermore.

guide you safely to his Heavenly shore!"

LT.

Hard

sits

the

downy

pillow to a head

Aching with memories

and Gerald sought

The mournful paths where happy hom's had

Pacing through

Yet sometimes,

The

silent labyrinths of

fled,

thought.

in his loneliness of grief.

richness of the loss

came

like relief.

LVI.

Minutely he

How

recall' d,

one day

with tender pride.

which

is

gone for evermore

k2

THE MUSIC- MA8TEK.

132

Among

He

his buncli of wild flowers left aside,

found a dark carnation, seen before

In Milly's

To

read

girdle,

its

but

alas,

too dull

crimson cypher in the

full

IVII.

She smiled, the centre of a summer's eve

She sung with

all

her countenance a-glow

In her own room, and he could half believe

The

He

voice did far-off in the dai'kness flow

saw her stretch'd

With

in a

most

silent place,

the calm light of prayer upon her face.

LVIII.

All this night long the water-drops he heard

Vary

their

t;ilk

of chiming syllables.

Dripping into the butt

The ducks gabbling

Of misty

When

and

in

the yard

at daylight

till

the spells

sense recall'd a childish illness

the same noises broke the watchincr

stilhicss.

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

133

LIX,

Wellnigh

And

lie

all

hoped that he had sadly dream' d,

the interval was but a shade.

But now the slow dawn through

And

his

window gleam' d,

whilst in dear oblivion he was laid,

And Morning

A happy

rose, parting

the vapours dim,

heavenly vision eame to him.

LX.

Kind boons

of comfort

Nor wholly vanish

When this our

That

Its slender

Among

in

in the

little

flickers like a

may

dream descend,

broad daylight.

story hath an end.

dream

in

woof of night.

memory may perchance be wrought

the tougher threads of waking thought

LXI.

Thus Gerald came and went.

Till far

His coming and his errand were not

And

away,
told.

years had left behind that sunny day,

Ere some one from the

New World

to the Old

THE MUSIC-MASTER.

13-1

Brought news of him,

in a great

Southern town,

Assiduous there, hut seeking no renown.

LXII.

After another silent interval,

The

little daily lottery

Gave me a

Of

"

prize

of the post

from one who at the

westward ho

!"

had

left

our

fair

call

green coast,

"With comrades eager as himself to press

Into the rough miharrow'd wilderness.

LXIII.

"

Through these

One sundown
Burn'd

old forests (thus he wrote)

to a clearing.

in the pine-tops

Western

we came

light

with a fading flame

Over untrodden regions, and dusk night

Out

of the solemn

To some

woods appear'd to

strange music,

full

rise

of quivering sighs.

LXIV.
"

Such must have heen the atmosphere, we thought,

The

visionary light of ancient years,

THE MUSIC-ilASTER.

When Eed Man

east or west encounter'd

135

nought

Save bear and squhrel, with their wild compeers.

now

But

other hfe was

The

little citadel of this

and soon we found

new ground.

LXT.
" The neat log-cabin from

its

wall of pines

Look'd out upon a space of corn and grass

Yet thick with stumps

'twas eaved with running vines,

As though among the vanquish'd woods

For something

We

Drawing

native.

to pass

to its door,

question'd of the mystic sounds no more.

LXTI.
"

They blended with the

At hand,
That

first it

Hymning

around, above, and far away,

was a voice
its

as of the breeze

vespers in the forest grey

But now we heard not

But human

twilight and the trees,

airy strains alone.

feeling throb in every tone.

THE MUSIC-MASTEE.

136

LXVII.
"

swelling agony of tearful strife

Being weaxied out and

husli'd,

Arose a music deep as love or

That spread

And

from the profound

life,

into a placid lake of sound,

took the infinite into

With Earth and Heaven

its breast,

in one embrace at rest.

LXTIII.

"

And

then the flute-notes

Whom
Gerald,

Approaching slow.

found we seated in the threshold shade

our Music-Master long ago

In poor old Ireland

Along our track

And

fail'd.

for

here at once

much

inquiry

him had proved

we grasp' d

his

made

in vain

hand again

LXtX.
"

And he

received us with the

Our brothers

But what was

As

if

lose not

warmth

of heart

under any sky.

strange, he did not stare or start

astonish'd, when, so suddenly,


THE MTJSIC-MASTEK.

137

Long-miss'd familiar faces from the wood

Emerged

like ghosts,

and at

his elbow stood.

LXX.
"

Twas

like a

man who joyfully was

greeting

(So thought I) some not unexpected friends.

And

yet he had not

known our chance

More than had we

of meeting

but soon he made amends

For lack of wonder, by the dextrous

zeal

That put before us no unwelcome meal.

LXXI.
"

We gave
He

him

told us

all

our news, and in return

how he lived, a

lonely

life

Miles from a neighbour sow'd and reap'd his corn.

And hardy
To

cheer

But

him

grew.

One spoke about a

wife

in that solitary wild,

G-erald only shook his

head and smiled.

XXXII.

"

Next dawn, when each one

Had

of

oui* little

band

on a mighty Walnut carved his name,

THE MUSIC-iLVSTEK.

138

Heiicofoi-th a sacred tree, he said, to stand

'Mid

liis

enlarging bounds,

For farewell words.

We

But

the moment came

long, behind our backs,

heard the echoes of his swinging axe."

DAY AND NIGHT SONGS.

"U^

I.

THE CHOICE.
Now

let

Ere

me

choose a native blossom,

I quit the

Fittest for

my

sunny

fields,

Lucy's bosom.

Hill, or brake, or

Flag or Poppy

I'll

meadow

yields.

not gather,

Briony or Pimpernel
Scented

Thyme

Though

or sprouting Heather,

I like

them both

so well.

Purpling Vetches, crimson Clover,

Pea-bloom winglets, pied and

Bluebell, Windflow'r, pass

faint,

them over

Sober Mallow, Orchis quaint

THE cnoiCE.

142

striped Convolvulus in hedgus,

Columbine, and Mountain-Pink

Lilies, floating seen

Violets nestling

Creamy

through sedges,

by the brink

Elder, blue Germander,

Betony that seeks the shade

Nor where Honeysuckles wander,

May

that luscious balm persuade.

Sad Forget-me-not 's a token

Full of partings and mishaps

Leave the Foxglove spire unbroken,

Lest the

Crimson

fairies Avant for caps.

Loose-strife, Crowfoot, Pansy,

Golden Gorse, or golden Broom,

Eyebright cannot

fix

my

fancy,

'Not the Meadowsweet's perfume.

143

THE CHOICE.
Azure, scarlet, pink, or pearly,

Eustic friends in

Each

of

None

you I
of

Wild-Eose

prize full dearly

you

field or grove,

is

for

my

Love

delicately flushing

All the border of the dale,

Art thou

Or

like a pale

cheek blushing,

a red cheek turning pale ?

Is it sorrow ?

Is

it

gladness

Lover's hopes, or lover's fears

Or a most

delicious sadness,

Mingled up of smiles and

Come

To
Come

no

silky leaflet

tears ?

shaken

a breast as pure and fair

!

and thoughts more tender waken

Than thy

fragrant spirit there

II.

iEOLIAN HARP.

What
what

We

is

gone,

we

lost that

never

may be

is it

is

stray

all

that

afternoon, and

fancied ours ?

told

we may

grieve

Until the perfect closing of the night.

Listen to us, thou grey Auttimnal Eve,

Whose

part

is silence.

At thy

verge the clouds

Are broken into melancholy gold

The

waifs of

Autumn and

the feeble flow'rs

Glimmer along our woodlands

in

wet light

Because within thy deep thou hast the shrouds

Of joy and great

adventvire,

Wliifh once, or so

Some power

it

it

waxing

seem'd, were

cold,

full of

might.

was, that lives not with us now,

thought we had, but could not, could not hold.

^OLIAN HAEP.

sweetly, swiftly pass'd

Green leaves

ai'e

air sings

and murmurs

gathering on the devvy bough

sadly, swiftly pass'd!

Eed

145

air sighs

and mutters

leaves are dropping on the rainy mould.

Then comes the snow,

what

is

gone from

unfeatured, vast, and white.

us,

we

fancied ours

111.

THE

PILOT'S

O'ee western

Was
And

PEETTY DAUGHTER.

tides the fair Spring

smiling back as

all

it

Day

withdrew,

the harbour, glittering gay,

Return' d a blithe adieu

Great clouds above the

Kept

brilliant

and sea

hill.s

watch, and

air

was

free

Where

last lark first-born star shall greet,

When,

for the

Among

the slopes and crags I meet

The

Round

crowning vernal sweet,

Pilot's pretty

Daughter.

her gentle, happy face.

Dimpled

soft,

Danced with

and freshly

fair.

careless ocean grace

Locks of auburn hair

THE pilot's PEETTT DAUGHTER.

As

147

lightly blew tlie veering wind,

They touch'd her cheeks,

or

waved behind,

Unbound, unbraided, and unloop'd;

Or when

to tie her shoe she stoop'd,

Below her chin the

And

half-curls di'oop'd,

veil'd the Pilot's

Daughter.

Rising, she toss'dthem gaily back,

With
To

fall

gesture infantine and brief,

around as

As the

soft a

neck

wild-rose's leaf.

Her Sunday

frock of lilac shade

(That choicest

tint)

was neatly made,

And

not too long to hide from view

The

stout but

noway clumsy

And stocking's

smoothly-fitting blue,

That graced the

With

look, half timid

And

shoe,

Pilot's Daughter.

and half

di'oU,

then with slightly downcast eyes,

And blush that outward

Unless

it

softly stole,

were the skies

l2

148

Tin:

Whose

shit'tecl

She turn'd when

But 'twas
That

And

in

on

licr

cheek,

began to speak

a brightness all her

Iut firm light step was shown,

The
it

own

the clear cadence of her tone

Were

puetty daughter.

I'ilot's

sun-ray

my

To hand

Pilot's lovely

lot,

Daughterl

(the sudden wish)

a pilot's oar and

sail,

Or haul the dripping moonlight mesh.

Spangled with herring-scale

By dying

stars,

And dawn-blow

how sweet

'twould be,

freshening the sea,

With weary, cheery

pull to shore,

To gain my cottage-home once more.

And

elasj),

before I reach the door,

My
Tliis

element beside

Allures, a tepid

One

Daughter

love, the Pilot's

my

feet

wine of gold

touch, one taste, dispels the cheat,

'Tis salt

and nipping cold

THE pilot's peettt daughtee.

A fisher's hut,

the scene perforce

Of narrow thoughts and manners

coarse,

Coarse as the curtains that beseem

With

Would

never lodge

my

E'en with

To

smoky beam.

net-festoons the

favourite dream,

my

Pilot's

Daughter,

the large riches of the earth,

Endowing men

The Foor, by
Stand

in their

own

privilege of birth,

in the closest right.

Yet not alone the palm grows

With

And

spite,

dull

clayey delve and watery pull

this for

But could

me,

or hourly pain.

I sink and call

it

gain

Unless a pilot true, 'twere vain

To wed a
Lift

lier,

Much
So

perhaps

Daughter.

Pilot's

but ah

I said.

waser leave such thoughts alone.

may thy

beauty, simple maid,

Be mine,

vet

all

thv own.

119

150

Tin: pilot's imU'Ttv

.loin'd

With

Who
Do

ill

my

free

daughter.

contented love

coni])anics of stars

above

from their throne of airy steep

kiss these ripples as

they creep

Across the boundless darkening deep,

Low

voiccful

wave

The

hush soon to sleep

gentle Pilot's Daughter

IV.

TO THE CICADA.
Br Meleagee.
From

Cicada

What

the

Greek Anthology.

drunk with drops of dew,

musician equals you

In the rural solitude

On

a perch amidst the wood,

Scraping to your heart's desire

Dusky

sides

with notchy

Shrilling, thrilling, fast

Like the music of a

Dear Cicada

feet,

and sweet.

lyre.

I entreat.

Sing the Dryads something new

So from thick-embower'd seat

Paj!^

himself

may answer

you.

TO THE CICADA.

152

Till every

inmost glade rejoices

"With your loud alternate voices

And

I listen,

and forget

All the thorns, the doubts and fears,

Love

in lover's heart

may

Listen, and forget thorn

And

so,

Where

set

all.

with music in mine

ears.

the plane-tree-shadows steep

The ground with

coldness, softly

Into a noontide sleep.

fall

THE COLD WEDDING.

BiTT three days gone

Her hand was won

Bv

suitor finely skill'd to

woo

And now come we

In pomp to see

The Church's ceremonials

The Bride

in

due.

white

Is clad aright,

Within her carriage closely hid

No
For

blush to veil
too, too pale

The cheek beneath each downcast

lid.

THE COLD WEDDING.

151

White

On

And
.

J5ut

favours rest

every breast

yet methinks

The church

we seem not
cold,

is

The

priest is old,

who

will give the bride

Now

gay.

away

delver, stand.

With

spade in hand,

All mutely to discharge thy trust

Priest's

words sound forth

They're" Earth

to earth,

" Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

The groom

He

has no breath

(The wedding

With

He
Her

Death

is

peals,

how slow

the}' swing!)

icy grip

soon will

finger with a

clip

wormy

ring.


155

THE COLD WEDDING.

A match

most

This silent

Xow

fair.

pair,

to each other given for ever,

Were

lovers long,

Were

plighted strong

In oaths and bonds that could not sever.

Ere she was born

That vow was sworn

And we must
Her
As

And

I,

face

lose into the

we knew

thither

and

ground

you
are swiftly bound.

all,

This

Law of Laws

That

still

withdraws

Each mortal from

all

mortal ken

If 'twere not here

Or we saw

clear

Instead of dim as

now

what then

This were not Earth, and we not Men.

VI.

ON A FOREXOOX OF
I'm glad I

am

alive, to see

and

SlTtlXG.

feel

Tlif full deliciousness of this bright day,

That's like a heart with nothing to conceal

The young

Rimming

leaves scarcely trembling

the cloudless ether far away

Brairds, hedges, shadows

Soft sapphire

the blue-grey

mountains that reveal

this great floor of polish' d steel

Spread out amidst the landmarks of the bay.

I stoop in sunshine to our circling net

From

Up

the black gunwale

their rough path

tend these milky kine

sit

by yon cottage-door

Plying the diligent thread

hark,

how with

Joy culminates

in

take wings and soar

the season's laureate

song

If such a song were mine

VII.

THE THREE FLOWEES.

A

Pilgrim

light for travel

bound

Tript through a gay parterre

The

cool fresh

The

dew was on the ground,

song in the

lark's

One bud, where

air.

free of cloud or

mist

Heaven's colour did unfold,

He

claim'd with joy and fondly kiss'd,

And

How

next his heart will hold.

happy

The

might the tender thing,

blue dehghtful blossom,

Have kept the sweetness

Nor

wither' d in his

of its Spring,

bosom

THE TlinEE FLOWERS.

158

He

strodu along through ciilturi'd

By manly
And

contest won,

bloss'd the sylvan bow'r that shields

From
But

rage of noontide sun

spied aloft a rleh red hlooni,

And, good or

The

liclds,

evil hap.

slippery precipice he

To
Then

set it in his cap.

forward, forward ])roudly

Too

How

clomb

flies,

swift and ])roud for heeding

leaf

May

by

leaf his

vaunted prize

scatter in the speeding

Across a moorland crept his way

The heather

far

and near

Steep'd in the solemn sinking day,

And

the sad waning year.

His bent regard

One

Whose

little

descries a ilow'r,

cup of snow,

mystic fragrance hath the pow'r

To bring him

kneeling low.

THE THREE ELOWEES.

All on the ground he dropt asleep

The
Above

leaves

made haste

to hide him.

unrolls the starry deep

A white flower

159

nods beside him.

;;

YIII.

SONG,
IX
AVELCOME

And

THE DUSK.

friendly stars, one

by one, two by two

the voices of the waterfall are toning in the air

wavy

"Whilst the

falling

As my

landscape-outlines are blurr'd witli

dew

rapture

is

with sadness, because I

may

not

share,

And

double

Cloudy

it

by sharing

fire dies

it

with

away on the

thee.

sea.

Now the calm shadowy earth she lies musing like a saint
She

From

is

wearing for a halo the pm*e

moon

the mountain breathes the night-wind, steadily,

though

As

circlet of the

am

faint

softly breathing, "

Ah might some heav'nly

!

boon

Bestow

thee,

Like a

full,

my belov'd

one, to

my

happy heart flows the

side !"
tide.

IX.

ST.

MARGARET'S EVE.

my castle

Bn-LT

The waves

upon the

roll so (/ciUy O,

Half on the land and half

in the tide,

Love me true

Within was

The

sea-side,

silk,

without

\Tas stone.

leaves roll so yailij 0,

It lacks a queen, and that alone,

Love me true

The grey

old harper sung to me,

The waves
Beware

roll so gaily O,

of the damsel of the sea

Love me true

EVE.

ST. MAlUi.VnET's

162

Saint Mart^aret's
IVie

Tlie tide

waves

Evo

did

it

rull so <juilij

opcn'd

came creeping up the u ul!.

Love me true

l)c'l;d,

my

gate

The waves

who

tlierc

should stand-

roll so (jatli/ O,

T3ut a fair lady, witli a cui) in her hand,

Love me true

The cup was

gold, and full of wine,

Tlie waves roll so (jaihj O,

Drink, said the lady, and

Love me true

Enter

my

T/ie

You

I will

he thine,

castle, lady fair,

waves roll so

ff<iili/

0,

shall he ipieen of all that's there,

Love me true

Margaret's eye.

ST.

grey old haq^er sung to me,

Tlie waves roll so

(jaiJij

0,

Beware of the damsel of the sea

Love me true

In

he harpeth

hal]

a year,

waves roll so gaily O,

Tlie

And we

many

will sit his

song to hear,

Love me true

'

I love thee deep, I love thee true.

The waves

But ah

roll so gaily O,

know not how

Love

Down

to woo,

one true

dash'd the cup, with a sudden shock,

The waves

The wine

like

roll so gaily 0,

blood ran over the rock,

Love me true

163

164

ST.

MAnOAllKT's EVE.

She said no word, but shritk'd aloud,

Tlie waves roll so gaili/ O,

And

vanisli'd

away from where she

JLove

I loek'd

The

and barr'd

me

my

leaves roll so

true

castle door,
(/ili/

O,

Three summer days I grieved

Love me

sore,

frjie

For myself a day and night,

The waves

And two

to

roll so gaily 0,

moan that lady

Love me true

bright,
!

stood,

AX AUTUMN EVENING.
NoAV

is

And

Queen Autumn's progress

all lier

tlirougli the land;

sunbrown subjects are

astir,

Preparing loyally on every hand

Earth

golden triumph.

is

glad of her.

Tlie regal cnrtainings of cloud on high,

And

shifting splendours of the vaulted

air,

Express a jubilation in the sky,

That nobly

in the festival doth share.

With arching garlands

And

knots of

Loud busy Joy

To

fruit,

is

of unfinger'd green,

bower each highway shows

herald on the scene

Gratitude, Contentment, and Eepose.

AN AlTl'MX EAENING,

1G6

Lately, wlien

tliis

good lime was

One evening found

Mounting a

The

at its best,

nic, witli liidf-woaried pace,

lull ngainst

the

liglitc'd

cool air softly flowing on

my

AVest,

face.

vast and gorgeous jiomp of silent sky

Embathed

a harvest realm in double gold

Sheaf-tented fields of bloodless victory

Stackyards and cottages in leafy

Whence

And

fold,

climb'd the blue smoke-pillars.

Grassy

hill

furrow'd land their graver colourings lent

And some

few rows of corn, ungather'd

Like aged

men

to earth, their cradle, bent,

AMiile reapers, gleaners, and

full

carts of grain,

With imdistnrbing motion and

Fed the

still,

rich calm, o'er

all

Mountains, imbued with

faint

sound

the sumptuous plain:

violet,

were

its

bound.

AN AUTUMN ETENIXG.

Among
And

1G7

the sheaves and hedges of the slope,

harvest-people, I descended slowly.

Field after

field,

On their own

and reach'd a pleasant group

land,

who were not

strangers wholly.

Here stood the Farmer, sturdy man though grey.

In soher parley with his second son.

Who

had heen reaping

And now resumed

Two

his coat, for

Fresh innocent joy,

Red

Had

day,

work was done.

most gentle

their five-year

rustic pair,

nephew, as he wreathed

to their farmstead with the rest,

cheerful

smiles for

And

all

poppies through his younger sister's hair.

Then walking
The

rank

half-hlown roses twin, that breathed

girls, like

Laugh'd with

in the

mother waiting
all,

and welcome

at the door
for the guest,

hustlincr sous^ht the choicest of her store.

lOS

A\ AITL'MX EVENING.

'riir cliiltlrrii ruiiiiiiii^

W'liosi'

Seem'd

to the poor lame boy,

rrutelies on the stool beside hiiu leaiiiug,

in his

book

forL!:ot,

Bestow'd the luuuU'uls

wealthy rustic roof!

Kind

with emulous joy

ol"

their llowery yleaning.

dainty board!

eyes, frank voices, mirth

and sense were there

Love that went deep, and piety that

soai''d

Tlu' cliildren's kisses and the evening pray'r.

Earth's

common

Are best of

all

pleasures, near the

ground

like grass,

nor die although they fade:

Dear, simple household joys, that straightway pass

The

precinct of devotion, undismay'd.

Iveturning homeward, soften'd, raised, and

still'd

Celestial peace, that rare, transeendant boon,

Fill'd all

my soul,

With the warm

as

heav'n and earth were fiU'd

lustre of the

Harvest Moon,

XI.

^OLIAN HARP.
O

PALE green

With long

What
What
With

sea,

pale purple clouds

lies in

me

dies in

like

above

weight of love

me

utter grief, because there comes no sign

Through the sun-raying West,

or on the

dim

sea-line ?

salted air,

Blown round the rocky headlands

chill

What

calls

me

there from cove and hill

What

falls

me

fair

From

Thee, the first-born of the youthful night

Oi" in

the waves

is

comins: through the dusk twili":ht

170

.^OLI.VX

HARP.

yellow star,

Quivt'rint(

upon

tlif

rijipling tide

Sendest so far to one that sigh'd

Bendest thou, Star,

Above where shadows of the dead have

And

rest

constant silence, with a message from the blest ?

XII.

THE

GIRL'S

LAMENTATIOK

{To an old Irish Time.)

With

grief

and mourning

My

Love pass'd

He

passes

And

My
He

is

to spin

and he didn't come

in

by me, both day and night,

carries off

There

by,

I sit

my

poor heart's delight.

a tavern in yonder town,

Love goes there and he spends a crown,

takes a strange girl upon his knee,

And

never more gives a thought to me.

Says he, " We'll wed without loss of time.

And

My

sure our love's but a little crime ;"

apron-string

And my Love he

now

its

wearing short.

seeks other girls to court.

THE OIIU/S LAMENTATIOX.

172

() witli liiin

IM

lollow

I'd

liiiii

i,'()

if I liii'l

me

will,

barefoot o'er rock and

hill

all

my

grief

a smile for

my

heart's relief.

I'd never once speak of

If he'd give

my

In our wee garden the rose imfolds,

With

bachelor's-buttons, and marigolds

I'll tie

no

willow twig

is

For a maid again

Till the red rose

Of .such

for

me

to wear.

can never be,

blooms on the willow

a trouble I heard

And now

posies for dance or fair,

know what

it

them
means

tell,

full well.

As through the long lonesome night

I'd give the world if

moan

But

And

the tears run

mus'n't

tree.

might but cry

there or raise

I lie,

my

down without any

voice,

noise.

;;

THE GIEL's LA.ME>'TATIOy.

And

what,

what

my

will

She'll wish her daughter

My father will

curse

The neighbours

My

sister's

But

sm'e

will

me

know

we made

God

it

The Candlemas

To

look on

far too

face

my black

disgrace.

much lament.

still

say a prayer

was I was there

crosses

hang near

them puts me much

They mark the good time

It's like this year's

The

in the clay.

my

of

buried three years, come Lent

Beside her grave they

I wish to

mother say

was
to

173

my

bed

in dread,

that's

gone and past:

one will prove the

last.

oldest cross it's a dusty brown,

But the winter winds

The newest

When

didn't shake

it

down

cross keeps the colour bright,

the straw was reaping

my

heart was hght.

THE

174

LAMF.NTATIOX.

(iiur/s

The

reapers rose with tlio brink of morn,

And

gaily stook'd up the yellow corn,

To

them home

call

Through

When

tlie

to the

lielil

blowing breeze and the summer sun.

the straw was weaving

For neither

I'd run,

shame

sin nor

my

heart was glad,

I had,

In the barn where oat-chair was Hying round.

And

the thumping

ilails

made

Now summer

or winter to

But oh

day

like

was

it

for a

I'd little care

If I

Oil

had but peace

Oil

light

And

foolisli girl

it's

one

the time that's gone.

storm or shine,

in this heart of mine.

light and false

And

me

a pleasant sound.

is

young man's

kiss.

gives her soul fur this.

and short

is

the young man's blame.

a helpless girl has the grief

and shame.

THE giel's lamentation,

To

175

the river-bnnk once I thought to go,

And

cast myself in the stream

below

I thought 'twould carry us far out to sea,

Where

they'd never find

me

my poor

babe and me.

Sweet Lord,

foi'give

You know

used to be well-inclined.

that wicked

my

Oh, take compassion upon

my

Because

My head
And

trouble

a heavy cloud on

my

of

state.

so very great

all is

my

eyes I

feel.

at ni}^ heart's core

innocent days will come back no more.

[Note. In some parts of Ii-eland

shannon and heard of

it

elsewhere)

cross of straw at Candlemas,

sometimes over a bed.

old are left

turns round with the spinning-wheel,

But the worst

For

is

mind

till

they

is

which

A new one

fall to pieces.]

(I

have seen

it

near Bally-

a custom of weaving a small

is
is

hung up

in the cottage,

added every year, and the

XIII.

WISHING.
A NUBSERY SONG.

Eixo-Tixo

l)right yellow

wish I were a Primrose,

Primrose blowing in the Spring!

The stooping boughs above me,

The wandering bee

The

Nay

to love me.

i'ern

and moss to creep across,

And

the Elm-tree for our king!

stay

wish

were an Elm-tree,

great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay

Tlic winds would set tlicni dancing,

The sun and moonshine glance

in.

The Birds would house among the boughs,

And

sweetly sing!

!!

177

wisniXG.

no
A

I wish I were a Eobin,

Robin or a

little

Through

And
Till

Wren, everywhere

garden.

forest, field, or

ask no leave or pardon.

Winter comes with

To

ruffle

Well- tell
Where go

to go

icy

thumbs

up our wing

Where should

to sleep in the dark

I fly to,

wood

or dell ?

Before a day was over.

Home

comes the

For Mother's

kiss,

rover,

sweeter this

Than any other thing

XIV.

THE

SAILOR.

A nOMAIC 15ALLAD.

Tnou

that hast a daughter

For one

to

woo and wed,

Give her to a husband

With snow upon

his

head

Oh, give her to an ohl nuin,

Though

Uttle joy

it

be,

Before the best young sailor

Tliat sails

How

luckless

"When

He

sees

No

sick

upon the

is

sea

the sailor

and

like to die

no tender mother,

sweetheart standing by.

;:

THE SAILOE.

179

Only the captain speaks to him,

Stand up, stand up, young man,

And

steer the ship to haven.

As none

Thou

beside thee can.

sayst to me, " Stand, stand

up

;"

I say to thee, talve hold.

Lift

me

My
And

little

hands and

let

With

my

Now

head, I pray thee.

my

hound

love's gold handle erchief.

tie it tightly

round.

bring the chart, the doleful chart

See,

The

feet are cold.

handkei'chiefs he

There, take

And

from the deck,

where these mountains meet

clouds are thick around their head.

The mists around

Cast anchor here

their feet

'tis

deep and safe

Within the rocky

I.-

cleft

THE SAILOR.

180

The

anchor on the right,

little

The

great one on the

And now
Most
That

left.

captain,

to thee,

earnestly I pray.

the}^

may

In church or

never bury

gray

cloister

But on the windy

At the ending

me
;

sea-beach,

of the land.

All on the surfy sea-beach,

Deep down

For there

into the sand.

come the

will

Their voices

And

I shall hear.

at casting of the anchor

The yo-ho loud and

And

at hauling of the

The yo-ho and

Farewell,
I

sailors,

my

clear

anchor

the cheer,

love, for to

nevermore

may

steer

thy bay

XV.

THE LULLABY.
I

SAW two

childi-en liusli'd to death,

In lap of One with

Hearkening a

Low
Her

lute,

silver wings,

whose

linger'd on the trembling strings.

face is very pale

and

Her hooded eyehds

Celestial love,
ls

Each

all

darkly shed

her hau-

ripple sinking in its place,

lute's faint-ebbing strain,

Seems echo'd

And

slowlier

from her

face,

echo'd back from thehs again.

now

Her

And

and

fair,

Uke a crown around her head.

Along the

Yes,

latest breath

is

sQence.

Do

not weep.

eyes are fix'd: observe

spell, if

them long;

thou canst pierce so deep.

The purpose

of a nobler song.

XVI.

A MOUNTAIN SONG.
Thank

Heav'n, we

AVhero a

To

flight witliout

sport with

tlie

Let them swell

To

livo in a

wings

in spate or

the thunder

at our comniand,-

is

dwindle in drouth

Olympian

roll'd

seat,

heneath our

Where storm and

And

is

streams in their Icajiing youth,

set o'er the clouds om-

Where

mountain land

feet.

lightning.

sunshine hright'ning,

Solemnly girdle our steep retreat

Ahove, the king-eagle's realm we share,

Below, the haunts of the shy hrown hare

Thousand

fields witli their lakes a-shine.

Far handet and town, and the ocean

line,

188

A MOUNTAIN SONO.
Beechen

And

valley,

and bilberry

dell,

glen where the Echoes and

With heaps and

Fames

dwell.

bosses

Of plume-fern and mosses,

Scarlet rowan,

and

slisfht blue-bell.

The plume-fern grows by the

Where

the ash-sprays tremble, one and

And

cool air

And

the glowing crag

To

waterfall.

murmurs, and wild birds

lifts

all,

call,

a dizzy wall

the blue, through green leaves' coronal,

And

sunlights twinkle,

And

insects wrinkle

The deep dark pool

of the waterfall.

Watch-towers of morn the mountains

And

they treasure the

Wear shadows

And meet

last light of

at noon, or

in council

rise,

the skies,

vapoury shrouds.

with mighty clouds

A MOUNTAIN SONO.

184

And
On

dusk the ascending stars appear

at

thfii"

pinnacle crags, or the chill moon-sphere

Crowning only

Summits

lonc.'ly,

Guarded with gulphs of blackness

Winter,

fierce slave,

drear.

with mutter and frown

Brings the misty robes and the cold white crown.

Blares the high trumpet of the gale,

And
Till

crashes the c^'mbals of the hail,

stung into war by the savage strains

Muster the barbarous

And

suzerains.

redly horrent,

Each roaring

tori'ent

Rages down to the trembling plains

Wlu-n paek'd

And

in

the hollows the round clouds

the wild-geese flow changing

Fnuii

Course

tlie salt

like

lie.

down the sky

sea-fringe, then softer rains

young blood through the wither'd

veins

1S5

A MOUNTAI?f SONG.
That sweeping March

And

wasted and weak

left

the grey old Mountain, dim and bleak,

With sudden

rally

By mound and
Laughs with green

When it glows

valley,

light to his baldest peak.

But parched and brown

On

is

the heathery husk

with a judgment-flame through the dusk,

the dim outline of a huger

Than

When

is

dome

clad in the paschal blaze of

Rome

to river, and valley, and larch-grove

Signal the creeping scarlet

spii'es,

fires,

Keen o'erpowering
Embers cowering

Low

in the west

where Day

retires.

Your mild blue greeting through

distant air

Is the first home-smile to the traveller,

Ye wave

And

in parting his last farewell,

he amongst alien

fields

may

tell

A MOUNTAIN SONO.

ISG

Of tlu'

And

and

liaiintid lake

the rugged

tomb

tlii'

elvish ring,

of an ancient king,

The AVhite Woman mourning,

The Horse-Fiend* spurning
Your midnight moor on

Huge,

a tempest's wing!

firm, familiar, mystieal range

Ye guard

the child's landscape well from change

His golden seasons with you

And

abide,

the joy of song and history's pride

0, a mountain cradle

From

our

own

is

that circle our bones

Wioac

Trish

luountainous

name

districts,

east

and west,

with fond persistence

Through time and

in

loved the best,

we reckon our

hills

And

Pray

is

legs of the night-traveller,

of inaccessible precipices.

may

the Pfioola.

and

distance,

He

rest

is

supposed to haunt

to rusii or rise suddenly between the

sweeping

ott"

with hiiu into the region

XVII.

MORNING PLUNGE.
I sPRTNa from

To

my

lightly prest pillow

tread the gay sunshiny floor

welcome, that glittering billow

Whose

The

cliff

surf almost reaches our door

with

Of matted
The

cheerful adorning

sea-pink under foot,

lark gives

The

its

me "top

o'

the morning!"

sailing-boat nods a salute.

Already, with

new sea-born

graces,

Comes many a bright-featured maid,

Peep

children's

From

damp

hair and fresh faces

straw hat's or sun-bonnet's shade.

188

MOEXINO PLUKOE.
Green crystal in exquisite tremble,
]\Iy

What

tide-Lrimming pool I behold

shrimps on the sand-patch assemble

I vanish
A

embraced with pure

cold.

king of the morning-time's treasures,

To

revel in water

and

air,

Join salmon and gull in their pleasures.

Then home

to our sweet

human

fare.

There stand the blue cups on white

liifh

And

Now
A
You

nugget of gold from the hive,

there's uncle

And

table,

George and Miss Mabel,

Kitty, the best child alive

two
kiss

little

arms round

my

neck

fast,

from a laugh I nmst win,

don't deserve one bit of breakfast,

You unbaptizcd

people within

XYIII.

THE BIRD.
A NUESEET

"

BiEDiE,

Summer

Bii-die, will

is far

and

far

SO>*G.

you pet

away

yet.

You'll have silken quilts and a velvet bed,

And

a pillow of satin for your head!"

" I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall;

No

rain

comes through, the' I hear

The sun peeps gay

And

"

I sing, and

at

dawn

of day,

wing away, away

Birdie, Birdie, will

it fall

you pet

!"

Diamond-stones and amber and jet

We'll string on a necklace

To

fair

please this pretty bird of

and

mine

fine,

!"

190

Tin: ]!u;d.

"0

thanks for diamonds, and thanks

But here

is

for jet,

sonicthing daintier yet,

feathcr-neckhice round and round,

Tliat I Avouldn't sell for a thousand ])ound !"

"

lUrdie, IJirdie,

"We'll

a dish of silver fret,

carpets soft beneath your feet!"

Can running water be drunk from gold

Can

golden cup and an ivory scat,

And

"

buy you

wont you pet

a silver dish the forest hold ?

rocking twig

And

is

the finest chair,

the softest paths

lie

through the

Goodbye, goodbye to

my

lady fair!"

air,

^^

XIX.

A
Oy

a sunny Satm'day evening

They

When

laid

him

in his grave,

the sycamore had not a shaking

And
The

BOY'S BURIAL.

the harbour not a wave.

sandhills lay in the yellow ray

Eipe with the sadness of parting

May

Sad were the mountains blue and lone

That keep the landscape

The rocky
The

slope of the distant

river issuing

from the

And when had ended

The

as their

dell

own

fell

the voice of pray'r

Fall's deep bass was left on the

RolUncf down.

air,

leaf,

A BOY

1J)2

Young

And

lie

was and

I!

LIU A L

hoiJclul,

ah, to die so soon

His new grave

At the
But

lies desei

rising of the

ted

moon

murn comes round, and the church

wlien

bells

sound,

The

little

And

talk of

children
liini,

may

and

as

sit

on the mound,

they talk.

Puff from the da)Klelion stalk

Its feathery globe, that reckons best

Their light-wing'd hours

; while

the town

is

And

the stone-ch acker rattles here and there,

And

the glittering Fall makes a tune in the

Kolliner

down.

at rest.

air,

XX.

ox THE SUNXY SHOEE.

Checquee'd with woven shadows

Among

as I lay

the grass, blinking the watery gleam

1 saw an Echo-Spirit in his bay,

Most

idly floating in the noontide beam.

Slow heaved

Of

his filmy

and

fell,

ocean's giant pulsing, and the

Buoy'd

like the

young moon on

Of greenish vapour

Swam
Of

skifi",

airily,

with sway

Dream,

a level stream

at decline of day.

watching the distant

flocks

sea-gulls, whilst a foot in careless

Touch'd the

clear -trembling cool

Faint-circlmg

till

at last

he

sweep

with tiny shocks,

di'opt asleep,

Lull'd by the hush-song of the glittering deep

Lap-lapping drowsily the heated rocks.

XXI.

THE NOBLEMAN'S WEDDING.

(

Once

was guest

To an old Irish Tune.

at a

Nobleman's wedding

Fair was the Lride, but she scarce had been kind

And now

in

our mirth, she had tears nigh the shedding

Her former

Clothed

true lover

like a minstrel,

Has taken

still

"

fair

here

his harp up,

and tuned

her mind.

all

the strings;

his grief to discover,

maiden's falsehood he bitterly sings.

is

the token of gold that was broken

Through seven long years

You gave

No

in

her former true lover

There among strangers,

runs

it

longer

to

me

I'll

it

was kept

for

as a true lover's token

wear

it,

asleep or awake."

your sake

; ;

THE nobleman's WEDDING.

She

sat in her place

The words

To

of his ditty she mark'd

any longer

sit

So down, in a

"

by the head of the

this bride

fiiint,

one, one request,

my

lord,

And

ever,

Her one one

them

right well

able,
fell.

one and no other,

you grant

for this night in the

lie

table,

from the carved chair she

this one request will

To

was not

195

arms of

to

it

my

me

mother,

and ever, thereafter with thee."

request

it

was granted her

fairly

Pale were her cheeks as she went up to bed

And

the very next morning, early, early,

They

rose

and they found

The bridegroom ran

He

He

this

young

quickly, he held her, he kiss'd her.

spoke loud and low, and listen'd

call'd

bride was dead.

full fain

on her waiting-maids round to

But nothing could bring the

o2

lost

assist her.

breath back again.

THE nobleman's

196

carry her softly

At

licad

the grave

is

-RTiDDING.

made ready

and at foot plant a laurel-lmsh green

For she was a young and a sweet noble lady,

The

fairest

vouni' bride that I ever have seen.

XXTI.

WOULD
Plats

Where

cliild in

KNEW!

a garden fair

the demigods are walking

Plajang unsuspected there

As

a bird within the

air,

Listens to their wondrous talking

"

Would

What

it is

knew

would

knew

they say and do!"

Stands a youth at city-gate,

Sees the knights go forth together,

Parleying superb,

elate,

Pair by pair in princely state.

Lance and shield and haughty feather

WOULD

198
"

Would

knew

What

it is tliey

Bends

By

knew!

would

say and do

knew
!"

man with trembling

knees

a gulph of cloudy border

Deaf, he hears no voice from these

Winged

shades he dimly sees

Passing by in solemn order

"

Would

What

it is

knew

O would

they say and do

I
!"

knew

XXIII.

BY THE MORNING
The wind
To

And

SEA.

shakes up the sleepy clouds

kiss the ruddied

Morn,

from their awful misty shrouds

The mountains
The Sea

lies

are

new-born

fresh with open eyes

Night-fears and moaning dreams

Brooding

like clouds

Have sunk
Dance on the

Or

strike

skies,

below, and beams

floor like

golden

flies.

with joyful gleams

Some white-wing' d
Of Ocean,

on nether

ship, a

piloting afar.

wandering star

200

1?Y

THE MORNING

SEA.

In Ijrukos, in woodj-, in cottage-eaves,

The

early birds are

Quick voices

tlirill

In ecstasy of

And

witli

rife,

the sprinkled leaves

life

the gratitude of flowers

Tlie morning's breath

And

is

sweet,

cool with dew, that freshly showers

Round

wild things' hasty

But the heavenly guests of

To

quiet hours

inner skies retreat,

From human thoughts

That

feet.

stir

of lower birth

upon the waking

earth.

Across a thousand leagues of land

The mighty Sun

And

A
Lo

looks free.

in their fringe of rock

thousand leagues of

As

I, in

and sand

sea.

this majestic room.

real as the Sun,

Inherit this day and

its

doom

BY THE MOE>'ING

SEA.

Eternally begun.

A world

of

men

the rajs illume,

God's men, and

But

life

Doth

that

is

am

one.

not pure and bold

tarnish every morning's gold.

201

XXIV.

THE MAIDS OF ELFEN-MERE.

'TwAS when the spinning-room was
There came Three Damsels clothed
\\'ith tlieir spindles

Two and

one,

here,
in wliitc,

every night

and Tlirco

fair

Maidens,

Spinning to a pulsing cadence,

Singing songs of Elfen-Mere
Till the eleventh

hour was

toll'd,

Then departed through the wold.

Years ago, and years ago ;

And

the tall reeds sigh as the

wind doth blow.

THE MAIDS OF ELFEN-MEEE.

Three white LiHes, calm and

And

203

clear,

they were loved by every one

Most

of

all,

the Pastor's Son,

Listening to their gentle singing,

Felt his heart go from him, clinging

Round

these Maids of Elfen-Mere

Sued each night to make them

stay.

Sadden' d when they went away.

Years ago, and years ago

And

Hands

the tall reeds sigh as the

wind doth blow.

that shook with love and fear

Dared put back the

Flew the

village clock,

spindle, turn'd the rock,

Flow'd the song with subtle rounding,

Till the false

"eleven" was sounding;

Then these Maids

of Elfen-Mere

Swiftly, softly, left the room,

Like three doves on snowy plume.

Years ago, and years ago ;

And

the fall reeds sigh as the

wind doth Mow.

THE MAIDS OF ELFEN-MEEE.

204

One that night who wander' J

Heard lamentings by the

Saw
In

at

tlie

dawn

)iear

shore,

tliree stains of

gore

waters fade and dwindle.

Nevermore with song and spindle

Saw we Maids
The

of Elfen-Mere.

Pastor's Son did pine and die

Because true love should never

Years ugo, and years ago

And

lie.

the tall reeds sigh as the

wind doth blow.

XXV.

A VALENTINE.
Lady

fair,

lady

fair,

Seated with the scornful.

Though your beauty be

so rare,

I were but a born fool

Still to seek

my

pleasure there.

love your features and youi- hue,

To

All your glowing beauty,

AU

in short that's

Was
As

and

to love

is

all

my

good of you,
duty.

beauty too.

A VALENTINE

206
IJut

now

a fairer face I've got,

A Picture's and believe

I never look'd to

you

for

picture cannot give

What

me,

what

me

you've more, improves you not.

Your queenly

The means

lips

can speak, and prove

of your uncrowning

Your brow can change, your eyes can move.

Which

grants you power of frowning

Hers have Heav'n's one thought,

So now

I give good-bye,

ma

of Love.

belle,

And

lose

no great good by

You're

fair,

yet I can smile farewell,

As you must

To your

shortly sigh

it

it.

bright, light outer shell

XXVI.

UNDEK THE
Where
And

these green

mounds

GRASS.

o'erlook the mingling

Man

that walk'd as

salt Atlantic, clay

thousand years ago, some Vikin stern,

May

rest, or chieftain

And when my
To the
With
lay

The

high of nameless clan

dusty remnant

great passive World, and nothing can

eye, or lip, or finger,

it

there too,

silver

by the

any more,

river shore.

salmon shooting up the

Itself at once the

The shadow

fall,

arrow and the bow

of the old quay's

weedy wall

Cast on the shining turbulence below

The water-voice which

Far

shall return

off

out of

my

ever seems to call

childhood's long-ago

Erne


UNDER THE

208

The

Be

GRASS.

gentk' washing of the harhour wave

these the sights and sounds around

Soothed

And

also

with thy friendly

my

my

l.)CC'k,

grave.

tov?n,

near the scjuare grey tower within whoso shade

Was many

of

my

kin's last lying-down

Whilst, hy the hroad heavens changefully array 'd,

Empurpling mountains

And westward

its

'tween low

In lightsome hours, the

A\'ith sails

upon

horizon erown

it

creeping silently

thick athwart

When

like a

The

gull

in the

it

mighty

As though the whole

display'd

tawny sand,

ocean glooming underneath the shroud

Dravm

And

is

level pale hlue sea,

Or, other time, beyond that

An

hummocks

flies

by tempestuous hand
fire

sea

the bar roars loud,

came

to

whelm the

land,

white against the stormy cloud,

weather-gleam the breakers mark

ghastly line upon the waters dark.

rXDER THE

209

GRASS.

green unfading quilt above be spread,

And

May

freely

round

let all

children play beside the breathless bed,

Holiday

lasses

by the

And manly games upon

And

And

the breezes blow

cliff-edge

go

the sward be sped,

cheerful boats beneath the headland row

be the thought,

What happy

soul

if

any

rise,

of me,

might wish that thought

to be.

XXVII.

NANNY'S SAILOR LAD.

Now

f\ire-you-\\(.'ll

For

am

flow, tlie breeze

They'll carry

all

And
I

as I

my bonny

ship,

for tlie shore.

The wave may

And

me no

may

blow.

more.

came walking

singing up the sand,

met a pretty maiden,

I took her

liut

A
And

still

by the hand.

she would not raise her head,

word she would not speak,

tears were on her eyelids,

Dripping down her cheek.

211

na^'Nt's sailor lad.

Now

grieve

jou

for

your father

Or husband might
Or

is it

it

be

for a sweetheart

That's roving on the sea

It

is

not for

I have no

But oh

And

my

father,

husband

dear,

I had a sailor lad

he

is lost,

I fear.

Thi'ee long years

am

grieving for his sake.

And when
I

lie all

the stormy wind blows loud,

night awake.

I caught her in

And

my

arms,

she lifted up her eyes,

I kiss'd her ten times over

In the midst of her

p2

surprise.

212

nanny's sailor lad.

Cheer up, cheer up,

And

speak again to

dry your tears,

For

I'll

have a

And

my Xanny,

my

me

darling,

go no more to

sea.

love, a true true love,

have golden

store,

The wave may How, the

They'll carry

breeze

me no more

may

blow,

XXVIII.

FEOST IN THE HOLIDAYS.

The

time of Frost

the time for

is

me

When

the gay blood spins through the heart with glee,

When

the voice leaps out with a chiming sound,

And the

When
And

footstep rings on the musical ground

the earth

is

every breath

white, and the air

is

a glorious sky

Pink clouds

Which
With

bright,

new delight

While Yesterday sank,

What

is

full soon, to rest.

through the level west

in a delicate greenish haze.

deepen'd up into purple greys.

stars aloft as the light decreas'd.

Till the great

moon

rose in the rich blue east.

; ;

ruosT

21i

Antl Morning!

Of

IN

riir.

each pane

holidays.

is

a garden of frost,

delicate flowering, as quickly lost

For the

And

By

stalks are fed

by the moon's cold beams,

the leaves are woven like woof of dreams

Night's keen breath, and a glance of the Sun

Like cb-eams will scatter them every one.

Hurra

the lake

is

a league of glass

l>uekle and strap on the still wliite grass.

Off

we

And

shoot, and poise and wheel,

swiftly turn

And our

upon scoring heel

flying sandals chirp and sing

Like a flock of swallows upon the wing.

Away

No

from the crowd with the wind we

vessel's

drift,

motion so smoothly swift

Fainter and fainter the tumult grows,

And

the gradual stillness and wide repose

Touch with

The

hue more

soft

and grave

lapse of joy's declining wave.

FEOST

Here the

ice is

i:?^

pure

Deep through the

THE HOLIDAYS.

a glance

awful,

215

may sound

dim profound,

To the water dungeons where snake-weeds

Over which,

as self-upborne,

we

hide,

glide,

Like wizards on dark adventm-e bent,

The masters

of every element.

Homeward now.

The shimmering

Kisses om* hot cheeks as

Wavering down the

we go

snow^

feeble wind,

Like a manifold Dream to a Poet's mind.

Till the earth,

and the

trees,

and the icy

Are slowly clothed w4th the countless

At home
Ranged

are

we by the merry

fire,

is

to tell

some wondrous

Almost to turn the warm cheeks

Set chin on hands,

Draw

flakes.

in a ring to oui' heart's desire.

And who

make grave

lakes.

tale,

pale.

eyes stare,

slowly nearer each stool and chair ?

FEOST IN THE HOLIDAYS.

21G

The one low

In

;i

voice goes wandering on

mystic world, whither

The shadows dance

Has

little

stolen her fingers

But the night outside

And

the Frost

all

are gone;

Caroline

up into mine.
is

very

hums loud

chill,

at the window-sill.

XXIX.

DEATH DEPOSED.
Death

stately

came

to a

young man, and

said

" If thou wert dead,

The young man

Wlaat matter ?"

my young

" See

Whose

My

life

were

all

bride.

one blackness

me

land requires

replied,

if I died.

and the world's

self,

too,

Methinkfe, would miss some things that I can do."

Then Death

in scorn this only said,

"Be
And

so

he was.

dead."

And

Made

soon another's hand

rich his land.

DEATH DEPOSED,

218

The

To

sun, too, of tliroe suiuukts IkhI tho

blouL-h tlie

might

widow's hue, light and more

light,

Again to bridal white.

And

nothing seenfd to miss beneath that sun

His work undone.

But Death soon met another man, whose eye

Was

Who

Nature's

said, " Forbear

sj)}'

thy most triumphant scorn.

The weakest born

Of

An

all

the sons of men,

is

by

his birth

heir of the Eternal Strength

Feels and

is

moved by him

And

"Thou,

and Earth

in his place,

wears his trace.

the mock Tyrant that men

Grim

Cold, dark, and

Not

fear

and hate,

fleshless Fate,

wormy thing

of loss and tears

in the sepulchres

DEATH DEPOSED.
Thou

dwellest, but in

Where

while

it

beats

my own
we

call

name, a shadow, into any

Out

of this woi'ld, which

But mine
Or stay

is

gulf,

not thine.

because thou

Only Myself."

219

crimson' d heart

thee Life.

art

Depart

XXX.

ON THE TWILIGHT POND.

A SHADOWY

fringe the fir-trees make,

\VTiere sunset light

The

hath been

liquid thrills to one gold flake,

And Hesperus

is

seen

Our boat and we, not

Go

drifting

While slowly

From

half awake,

down the pond.

calls

the Eail, " Crake-crake,"

meadow-flats beyond.

This hapj)y, cu-cling, bounded view

Embraces us with home

To

far

worlds kindling in the blue,

Our upward thoughts may roam

OS THE

TTVILIGIIT POXD.

Whence, with the

veil of scented

That makes the earth

so sweet,

touch of astral brightness too,

peace

which

is

complete.

221

dew

LONDOy
6AVILL AND KUWABDS, I'lllMLKS,

CUANDOS STUBKT.

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

Los Angeles

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