I.

THE NEW RESOLVE.

Last night, as I sat in my study,
    And thought o'er my lonely life,
I was seized with a passionate longing
    To escape from the weary strife;

To flee far away from my fellows,
    And far from the city's roar,
And seek on the boundless prairie
    A balm for my burning sore--

The sore of the weary spirit,
    The burn of the aching heart
Of him who has known true friendship--
    Has known it--but only to part.

And I said in that hour of anguish:
    "I will fly from the haunts of men,
And seek, in the bosom of Nature,
    Relief from my ceaseless pain."

As lonely I sat, and thus pondered,
    A voice seemed to speak in my ear;
And the sound of that voice was like music,
    ...

What it would mean for you and me
If dawn should come no more!
Think of its gold along the sea,
Its rose above the shore!
That rose of awful mystery,
Our souls bow down before.

What wonder that the Inca kneeled,
The Aztec prayed and pled
And sacrificed to it, and sealed,
With rights that long are dead,
The marvels that it once revealed
To them it comforted.

What wonder, yea! what awe, behold!
What rapture and what tears
Were ours, if wild its rivered gold,
That now each day appears,
Burst on the world, in darkness rolled,
Once every thousand years!

Think what it means to me and you
To see it even as God
Evolved it when the world was new!
When Light rose, earthquake-shod,
And slow its gradual splendor grew
O'...

When my time comes to quit this pleasing scene,
And drop from out the busy life of men;
When I shall cease to be where I have been
So willingly, and ne'er may be again;
When my abandoned tabernacle's dust
With dust is laid, and I am counted dead;
Ere I am quite forgotten, as I must
Be in a little while, let this be said:

He loved this good God's world, the night and day,
Men, women, children (these he loved the best);
Pictures and books he loved, and work and play,
Music and silence, soberness and jest;
His mind was open, and his heart was gay;
Green be his grave, and peaceful be his rest!

There was a morrice on the moonlight plain,
And music echoed in the woody glade,
For fay-like forms, as of Titania's train,
Upon a summer eve, beneath the shade
Of Netley's ivied ruins, to the sound
Of sprightly minstrelsy did beat the ground:
Come, take hands! and lightly move,
While our boat, in yonder cove,
Rests upon the darkening sea;
Come, take hands, and follow me!

Netley! thy dim and desolated fane
Hath heard, perhaps, the spirits of the night
Shrieking, at times, amid the wind and rain;
Or haply, when the full-orbed moon shone bright,
Thy glimmering aisles have echoed to the song
Of fairy Mab, who led her shadowy masque along.
Now, as to the sprightly sound
Of moonlight minstrelsy we beat the ground;
From the pale nooks, in accent clea...

The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.

Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro’ the dew-fall
The cold white blossoms wept.

("Où vas-tu donc, jeune âme.")

[XV.]


THE PERI.

Beautiful spirit, come with me
Over the blue enchanted sea:
Morn and evening thou canst play
In my garden, where the breeze
Warbles through the fruity trees;
No shadow falls upon the day:
There thy mother's arms await
Her cherished infant at the gate.
Of Peris I the loveliest far -
My sisters, near the morning star,
In ever youthful bloom abide;
But pale their lustre by my side -
A silken turban wreathes my head,
Rubies on my arms are spread,
While sailing slowly through the sky,
By the uplooker's dazzled eye
Are seen my wings of purple hue,
Glittering with Elysian dew.
Whiter than a far-off sail
My form of beauty glows,
Fair as on a summer night

I
Stately, kindly, lordly friend,
Condescend
Here to sit by me, and turn
Glorious eyes that smile and burn,
Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed,
On the golden page I read.
All your wondrous wealth of hair,
Dark and fair,
Silken-shaggy, soft and bright
As the clouds and beams of night,
Pays my reverent hand's caress
Back with friendlier gentleness.
Dogs may fawn on all and some
As they come;
You, a friend of loftier mind,
Answer friends alone in kind.
Just your foot upon my hand
Softly bids it understand.
Morning round this silent sweet
Garden-seat
Sheds its wealth of gathering light,
Thrills the gradual clouds with might,
Changes woodland, orchard, heath,
Lawn, and garden there beneath.
Fair and dim they gleamed below...

Ay, lay him 'neath the Simla pine,
A fortnight fully to be missed,
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,
A chair is vacant where we dine.

His place forgets him; other men
Have bought his ponies, guns, and traps.
His fortune is the Great Perhaps
And that cool rest-house down the glen,

Whence he shall hear, as spirits may,
Our mundance revel on the height,
Shall watch each flashing 'rickshaw-light
Sweep on to dinner, dance, and play.

Benmore shall woo him to the ball
With lighted rooms and braying band;
And he shall hear and understand
"Dream Faces" better than us all.

For, think you, as the vapours flee
Across Sanjaolie after rain,
His soul may climb the hill again
To each of field of victory.

Unseen, who women h...

More towers must yet be built, more towers destroyed,
Great rocks hoisted in air;
And he must seek his bread in high pale sunlight
With gulls about him, and clouds just over his eyes . . .
And so he did not mention his dream of falling
But drank his coffee in silence, and heard in his ears
That horrible whistle of wind, and felt his breath
Sucked out of him, and saw the tower flash by
And the small tree swell beneath him . . .
He patted his boy on the head, and kissed his wife,
Looked quickly around the room, to remember it,
And so went out . . . For once, he forgot his pail.

Something had changed, but it was not the street,
The street was just the same, it was himself.
Puddles flashed in the sun. In the pawn-shop door
The same old black cat winked green ambe...

Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the day.

Morning has not occurred!
That shall aurora be
East of eternity;

One with the banner gay,
One in the red array, --
That is the break of day.

At your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx,
I taste a strange apocalypse:
Your subtle taper finger-tips
Weave me new heavens, yet, methinks,
I know the wiles and each iynx
That brought me passionate to your lips:
I know you bare as laughter strips
Your charnel beauty; yet my spirit drinks

Pure knowledge from this tainted well,
And now hears voices yet unheard
Within it, and without it sees
That world of which the poets tell
Their vision in the stammered word
Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies.

Two dark-brown eyes looked into mine
    Two eyes with restless quiver;
A gentle hand crept in my own
    Beside the gleaming river.

"Ah, sweet," I murmured, passing sad,
    You will forget me ever?"
The dear, brown eyes their answer gave;
    "I will forget you NEVER."

Up in the leaves above our heads
    The winds were softly dying;
Down in the river at our feet
    The lilies pale were lying.
The winds their mournful murmur sent:
    You will forget me ever?
The lilies raised their drooping heads:
    We will forget you never.

A spell hung o'er the numbered hours
    That chained each thought and feeling;
My heart was filled with idle dreams
    That sent my sense reeling.
Once more I murmured, "Well, I know
    Y...

I love thee, Sabbath morn! - I cannot say
    But 'tis because my father loved thee so, -
    Because my mother's care-worn face would grow
So sweetly placid in thy peaceful ray; -

It may be, that is part of what endears
    Thee, Sabbath, to my soul; for memory stirs
    Old buried thoughts of his voice and of hers -
Heard never more on Earth - till sudden tears

So sadly sweet well up, I bid them flow,
    They leave a Sabbath in the soul when past;
    As when the sky, by April clouds o'ercast,
Shows fairer in the sun's returning glow.

I see the grass-grown lane we trod of old,
    Dear father, sainted mother! while
    The Sabbath sun looked down with loving smile,
And touched the hills and streams with rippling gold.

I hear y...

As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of fancy till, in shadowy design,
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.

The lamplight seems to glimmer with a flicker of surprise,
As I turn it low to rest me of the dazzle in my eyes,
And light my pipe in silence, save a sigh that seems to yoke
Its fate with my tobacco and to vanish with the smoke.

'Tis a fragrant retrospection - for the loving thoughts that start
Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart;
And to dream the old dreams over is a luxury divine -
When my truant fancy wanders with that old sweetheart of mine.

Though I hear, beneath my study, like a fluttering of wings,
The voices o...

I had not known before
Forever was so long a word.
The slow stroke of the clock of time
I had not heard.

'Tis hard to learn so late;
It seems no sad heart really learns,
But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,
And bleeds and burns.

The night is not all dark,
Nor is the day all it seems,
But each may bring me this relief--
My dreams and dreams.

I had not known before
That Never was so sad a word,
So wrap me in forgetfulness--
I have not heard.

    Nor wilt thou rest forever, weary heart.
    The last illusion is destroyed,
    That I eternal thought. Destroyed!
    I feel all hope and all desire depart,
    For life and its deceitful joys.
    Forever rest! Enough! Thy throbbings cease!
    Naught can requite thy miseries;
    Nor is earth worthy of thy sighs.
    Life is a bitter, weary load,
    The world a slough. And now, repose!
    Despair no more, but find in Death
    The only boon Fate on our race bestows!
    Still, Nature, art thou doomed to fall,
    The victim scorned of that blind, brutal power
    That rules and ruins all.

I looked, and the mist had hidden
    Streamlet and gorge and mountain,
Mansion and church had vanished away,
    No trace of tree or fountain.
Mist, on the roof where birdlings wake
    The strains of old love stories,
Mist, like tears on the roses' cheek,
    In cups of the morning glories.


"Ah, like life, 'said my heart to me,'
    Only a world of sorrow,
The lips you love, the hands you clasp,
    Are cold and strange to-morrow.
Mists on the stream of by-gone days,
    Where are your childhood bowers?
Mists on the path of coming years.
    Where are your household flowers?"

I looked again; a sunbeam bright
    Had shot through the heavy mist;
It drew the rose to its glowing breast,
    And the morning glories kissed.
T...

Dark head by the fireside brooding,
    Sad upon your ears
Whirlwinds of the earth intruding
    Sound in wrath and tears:

Tender-hearted, in your lonely
    Sorrow I would fain
Comfort you, and say that only
    Gods could feel such pain.

Only spirits know such longing
    For the far away;
And the fiery fancies thronging
    Rise not out of clay.

Keep the secret sense celestial
    Of the starry birth;
Though about you call the bestial
    Voices of the earth.

If a thousand ages since
    Hurled us from the throne:
Then a thousand ages wins
    Back again our own.

Sad one, dry away your tears:
    Sceptred you shall rise,
Equal mid the crystal spheres
    With seraphs kingly wise.

--...