RETRIBUTION.
O that the wretchedness entailed by sin
Might form the prelude—not the after-piece.
How few there are would brave the hurricane:
How few the crimes mankind would have to count.
LOVE'S MUTABILITY.
My heart is dark again.
My tree of life but yestermorn was flusht
With golden fruit: to-day it creaks in pain,
And wintry winds moan through its leafless boughs.
Time, some hours younger, saw me clasp the sky
Of hope with radiant brow: the plodding churl
May see me now go stumbling in the dark,
And blindly groping for the hand of Death
To lead me hence. O life! O world! O woman!
A MOTHER'S ADVICE.
Mother. Clarence, my darling boy,
The world to which thou yearn'st is grey with crime;
And glittering Vice will bask before thy face,
As serpents lie in sedgy, o'ergrown grass,
In glossy beauty, whilst Life's potent glance
Will thrall thy soul as with a spirit-spell:
But hold thy heart, a chalice for the Good
And Beautiful to crush, with pearly hands,
The mellow draught which purifies the thought,
And lights the soul. Thirst after knowledge, child.
Thy face shall shine, then, brightly as a king's,
As did the prophets' in the olden time
When holding converse with the living God.
As rain-drops falling from the sky above
Upon the mountain-peak remain not there,
But hasten down to voice the simple rill,
So knowledge, born of God, should be attained
By peasant as by peer—by king or slave.
Have faith—large faith. Some of life's mightiest great
Have peered out, like the moon from frowning hills,
Then ventured forth, and walkt their splendour'd night
In pale, cold majesty; while some have dasht
On sun-steeds through the ocean of the world,
As comets plough the shoreless sea of stars,
Blinding old Earth with wreaths of splendid foam
And sparkling sprays: others have strode the world
Like a Colossus, and the glory-light
That streamed up from the far, far end of time,
Hath smote their lofty brows, and glinted down
Upon the world they shadowed: some have lived
And cleft their times with such a whistling swoop
That plodding minds seemed reeling 'tother way—
Men who had suffering-purified their souls
To angel rarity, that they might scan,
Like old Elijah, e'en the throne of God,
And live.
Clarence. Thy voice doth marshal on my soul
To battle, and to dream of noble things.
Thy golden words I'll graft upon my heart
Like blossoms wedded to the granite rock.
But, Mother, weep not! Why should April tears
Come with the sunshine of thy voice?
Mother. Bless thee,
God bless thee, Clarence! May thy sorrows be
Light and evanescent as vapoury wreaths
That fleck the Summer blue. My dreams shall wing
Their way to thee, as moonbeams pierce the night.
And I will send my soul up in a cloud
Of thought to Heav'n, wreathed with a Mother's prayer,
For thee. Farewell—and be thou blest.
SUNRISE IN THE COUNTRY.
What a sweet atmosphere of melody
And coolness falls upon the troubled heart,
Like oil upon the wave. Dance on—dance on—
Ye couriers of the sun—full-throated choir;
And sky-ward fling your sobbing psalmody—
A sunrise offering to the coming day.
On—on: still higher! Still rolls the torrent down,
Bearing the soul up in a cloud of sprays,
The world seems deluged with a golden shower:
Myriads of larks trill out their morning psalm,
As though the stars were changed to silver bells
Timbrelling forth their sweet melodious bursts
In joyous welcome of the maiden Morn.
FAITH IN LOVE.
Man's faith in woman's love
Is all the darken'd earth can boast of Heaven.
That faith destroyed—farewell to happiness,
And joy, and worldly hope, and all that goes
To deify mankind.
UNREQUITED AFFECTION.
She was a simple cottage-girl,
But lovely as a poet's richest thought
Of woman's beauty—and as false as fair.
I've writhed beneath the witchery of her voice
As cornfields palpitate beneath the breeze—
Have sued with praying hands—lavished my life
Upon her image, as the bright stars pour
Their trembling splendours on the cold-heart lake—
Wounded my manliness upon the rock
Of her too fatal beauty, like a storm
That twines with sobbing fondness round the neck
Of some sky-kissing hill, bursts in his love,
Then slowly droops and flows about her feet
A puling streamlet,—whilst a gilded cloud
Is toying with the brow of his Beloved!
'Twas gold that sear'd the love-bud of her heart;
To bitter ashes turned my life's sweet fruit;
And sent my soul adrift upon the world
A wandering, worthless wreck.
THE POET'S TROUBLES.
To be possess'd of passion's ecstasy
Outswelling from the heart; the teeming brain
Afire with glowing light; as when the sun
Catches the tall tree-tops with Summer warmth,
And draws the trembling sap with impulse sweet
Through every fibre up to th' glory-crown;
To feel the breath of some rare influence
Of subtle life suck at the throbbing soul
As though into infinity to kiss
The yielding passion subtle as itself;
To see the hand of God in everything;
To hear His voice in every sound that comes;
To long, and long, with passionate desire,
To speak the language which the dream divine
Incessantly implies; to live and move
In Fancy's heav'n—yet know that earth still holds
The fancy captive: these the daily death
Of many minds that wrestle all in vain
'Gainst that which Heav'n in cruel kindness sends
To teach mankind humility. Ah, me!
The pow'r to feel the touch of Paradise
And to enjoy it not—as hungering men
Have died ere now, gazing upon the food
By heartless gaolers placed beyond their reach.
ECHOES FROM THE CITY.
The modern Babylon
Sleeps like a serpent coil'd up at my feet.
London—huge model of the great round earth,
The teeming birthplace and the mausoleum
Of millions; where dark graves and drawing-rooms
Gaze from each other into each; where flow'rs
Of blushing life droop in the grasp of Vice
Like blossoms in the fingers of a corpse;
Where cank'rous gold sways, millions with a nod
To abject slavery, buying men up
As toys for knaves to play with in the game
Of life; where Truth is kicked from foot to foot,
Till in bewilderment she cries aloud
And swears to save her life she is a lie;
Where Love and Hate, in masquerading guise,
Pell-mell dance on; chameleon Charity,
In all its varying phases, crawls along—
Now shrinking up dark courts in russet tint,
And then, in bold and gaudy colours dresst
Which publish trumpet-tongued its whereabouts,
It takes a garish stand before the world
And calls itself an angel. Thus for aye—
For ever, rolls the dark and turbid stream
In feverish unrest.
LOVE'S WILES.
When Beauty smiles upon thee—have a care.
Kingdoms ere this have hinged upon a kiss
From woman's lips: and smiles have won a crown.
Glances from bright eyes of a gentle maid,
Whose cheeks would redden at a mouse's glance,
Have hearts befool'd that in their noble strength
Had shaken Kingdoms down. Have thou a care.
HAZARD IN LOVE.
My sorrowing heart is like the blasted oak
That claspt the dazzling lightning to its breast,
Yielding its life up to the burning kiss.
Springs came along and fondled all in vain,
And Summers toy'd with warm and am'rous breath;
But nought in life could e'er again restore
The greening foliage of its early days.
Man never loves but once—then 'tis a cast
For life or death. If death—alas the day!
If life—'twere perfect Paradise.
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
And friends fell from me—all, save God, and one
Beside—and she my mother—gentle, true.
As the bleak wind sweeps o'er the trembling limbs
Of some fair tree denuded of its dress,
How oft is seen, upon the topmost spray,
One lonely leaf, which braves the passing storm
Of Winter, and when gladsome Spring arrives,
And blossoms bloom in beauty all around,
It bends its brow and silent falls away.
So droopt that friend, who, through the livelong day
Of icy cold that chill'd my inmost life,
Sat like a bird upon the outside branch,
And sweetly sang me songs of coming Spring.
"THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS."
'Tis everywhere! The babe that sees with pain
The look of feign'd displeasure on the face
Of doting mother; and the mother who
Lays down the babe to rest—no more to wake;
The youth and maiden fair who tempt the stream
Of love that never brings them to the goal
Their fancy pictured; hearts that droop and break:
Upon life's thorny way; old age that sees
Long-hoped for peace among the silent dead
And deems it life to die. The shadow falls
Athwart the sunny hopes of every heart,
And shadowy most when gentle arms extend
For love's embrace, and find it not—as night
Is darkest near the dawn. Brighter the flame
Of light celestial 'twixt which and our hearts
The blessed Cross doth stand, sharper the shade
That falls upon our lives, as greatest gains
Involve the pains of great adventurings;
Or, nearer Death, nearer eternal Life.