And bosom beating with a heart renew'd.
Thy cheek begins to redden thro' the gloom,
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine,
Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team
Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise,
And shake the darkness from their loosen'd manes,
And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.

Lo ever thus thou growest beautiful
In silence, then before thine answer given
Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek.

Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears,
And make me tremble lest a saying learnt
In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?
"The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts."

Ay me! ay me! with what another heart In days far-off, and with what other eyes I used to watch-if I be he that watch'dThe lucid outline forming round thee; saw The dim curls kindle into sunny rings; Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood Glow with the glow that slowly crimson'd all Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay, Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm With kisses balmier than half-opening buds Of April, and could hear the lips that kiss'd Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet, Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.

Yet hold me not forever in thine East: How can my nature longer mix with thine? Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam Floats up from those dim fields about the homes Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead. Release me, and restore me to the ground: Thou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave; Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth forget these empty courts, And thee returning on thy silver wheels.

THE VOYAGE.

I.

WE left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbor-mouth:
And madly danced our hearts with joy,
As fast we fleeted to the South:
How fresh was every sight and sound
On open main or winding shore!
We knew the merry world was round,
And we might sail forevermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow,
Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail:
The Lady's-head upon the prow

Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.
The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel,
And swept behind: so quick the run,
We felt the good ship shake and reel,
We seem'd to sail into the Sun!

III.

How oft we saw the Sun retire,
And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,

And sleep beneath his pillar'd light! How oft the purple-skirted robe

Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe Again we dash'd into the dawn!

IV.

New stars all night above the brim
Of waters lighten'd into view;
They climb'd as quickly, for the rim.
Changed every moment as we flew.
Far ran the naked moon across
The houseless ocean's heaving field,
Or flying shone, the silver boss
Of her own halo's dusky shield;

V.

The peaky islet shifted shapes,

High towns on hills were dimly seen, We past long lines of Northern capes

And dewy Northern meadows green. We came to warmer waves, and deep Across the boundless east we drove, Where those long swells of breaker sweep The nutmeg rocks and isles of clove.

VI.

By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade,
Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine
With ashy rains, that spreading made
Fantastic plume or sable pine;

By sands and steaming flats, and floods
Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast,
And hills and scarlet-mingled woods
Glow'd for a moment as we past.

VII.

O hundred shores of happy climes,
How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark!
At times the whole sea burn'd, at times
With wakes of fire we tore the dark;
At times a carven craft would shoot
From havens hid in fairy bowers,
With naked limbs and flowers and fruit,
But we nor paused for fruits nor flowers.
VIII.

For one fair Vision ever fled

Down the waste waters day and night, And still we follow'd where she led,

In hope to gain upon her flight. Her face was evermore unseen, And fixt upon the far sea-line; But each man murmur'd, "O my Queen, I follow till I make thee mine."

IX.

And now we lost her, now she gleam'd
Like Fancy made of golden air,
Now nearer to the prow she seem'd
Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair,
Now high on waves that idly burst
Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the sea,
And now, the bloodless point reversed,
She bore the blade of Liberty.

X.

And only one among us-him

We pleased not-he was seldom pleased: He saw not far: his eyes were dim:

But ours he swore were all diseased. "A ship of fools," he shriek'd in spite, "A ship of fools," he sneer'd and wept. And overboard one stormy night

He cast his body, and on we swept.

XI.

And never sail of ours was furl'd,

Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn; We loved the glories of the world;

But laws of nature were our scorn; For blasts would rise and rave and cease, But whence were those that drove the sail Across the whirlwind's heart of peace, And to and thro' the counter-gale ?

XII.

Again to colder climes we came,

For still we follow'd where she led: Now mate is blind and captain lame,

And half the crew are sick or dead. But blind or lame or sick or sound,

We follow that which flies before: We know the merry world is round, And we may sail forevermore.

IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ. ALL along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night, All along the valley, where thy waters flow,

I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.
All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day,
The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away;
For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed,
Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead,
And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree,
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.

Cataract brooks to the ocean run,
Fairily-delicate palaces shine
Mixt with myrtle and clad with vine,
And overstream'd and silvery-streak'd
With many a rivulet high against the Sun
The facets of the glorious mountain flash
Above the valleys of palm and pine."

"Thither, O thither, love, let us go."

"No, no, no!

For in all that exquisite isle, my dear,
There is but one bird with a musical throat,
And his compass is but of a single note,
That it makes one weary to hear."

203

"Mock me not! mock me not! love, let us go."

"No, love, no.

For the bud ever breaks into bloom on the tree,
And a storm never wakes on the lonely sea,
And a worm is there in the lonely wood,
That pierces the liver and blackens the blood,
And makes it a sorrow to be."

THE FLOWER.

ONCE in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.

Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went

Thro' my garden-bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall

It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o'er the wall Stole the seed by night.

Sow'd it far and wide

By every town and tower, Till all the people cried, "Splendid is the flower."

Read my little fable:

He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed.

THE ISLET.

"WHITHER, O whither, love, shall we go,
For a score of sweet little summers or so?"
The sweet little wife of the singer said

On the day that follow'd the day she was wed:
'Whither, O whither, love, shall we go?'
And the singer shaking his curly head
Turn'd as he sat, and struck the keys
There at his right with a sudden crash,
Singing, "And shall it be over the seas
With a crew that is neither rude nor rash,
But a bevy of Eroses apple-cheek'd,
In a shallop of crystal ivory-beak'd,

With a satin sail of a ruby glow,

To a sweet little Eden on earth that I know,
A mountain islet pointed and peak'd;
Waves on a diamond shingle dash,

REQUIESCAT.

FAIR is her cottage in its place,

Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides. It sees itself from thatch to base Dream in the sliding tides.

And fairer she, but ah, how soon to die!
Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease.
Her peaceful being slowly passes by
To some more perfect peace.

THE SAILOR-BOY.

He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
Shot o'er the seething harbor-bar,
And reach'd the ship and caught the rope,
And whistled to the morning star.

And while he whistled long and loud
He heard a fierce mermaiden cry,
"O Boy, tho' thou art young and proud,
I see the place where thou wilt lie.

"The sands and yeasty surges mix
In caves about the dreary bay,
And on thy ribs the limpet sticks,
And in thy heart the scrawl shall play."

"Fool," he answer'd, "death is sure
To those that stay and those that roam,
But I will nevermore endure

To sit with empty hands at home.

"My mother clings about my neck,

My sisters crying, 'Stay, for shame;'

My father raves of death and wreck,

They are all to blame, they are all to blame.

"God help me! save I take my part

Of danger on the roaring sea,

A devil rises in my heart,

Far worse than any death to me."

THE RINGLET.

"YOUR ringlets, your ringlets, That look so golden-gay,

If you will give me one, but one, To kiss it night and day,

204

Then never chilling touch of Time

Will turn it silver-gray;

And then shall I know it is all true gold

To flame and sparkle and stream as of old, Till all the comets in heaven are cold,

And all her stars decay."

"Then take it, love, and put it by; This cannot change, nor yet can I."

2.

"My ringlet, my ringlet,

That art so golden-gay,

Now never chilling touch of Time

Can turn thee silver-gray;

And a lad may wink, and a girl may hint,
And a fool may say his say;

For my doubts and fears were all amiss,
And I swear henceforth by this and this,
That a doubt will only come for a kiss,
And a fear to be kiss'd away."
"Then kiss it, love, and put it by:
If this can change, why so can I."

Warble, O bugle, and trumpet, blare!
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers!
Flames, on the windy headland flare!
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire!
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air!
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire!
Rush to the roof, sudden rocket, and higher
Melt into the stars for the land's desire!
Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice,

Roll as a ground-swell dash'd on the strand,
Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land,
And welcome her, welcome the land's desire,
The sea-kings' daughter as happy as fair,
Blissful bride of a blissful heir,

Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea-
O joy to the people, and joy to the throne,
Come to us, love us, and make us your own:
For Saxon or Dane or Norman we,
Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be,

We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra!

ODE SUNG AT THE OPENING OF THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION.

UPLIFT a thousand voices full and sweet,

In this wide hall with earth's invention stored,
And praise th' invisible universal Lord,

Who lets once more in peace the nations meet,
Where Science, Art, and Labor have outpour'd
Their myriad horns of plenty at our feet.

O silent father of our Kings to be
Mourn'd in this golden hour of jubilee,

For this, for all, we weep our thanks to thee!

The world-compelling plan was thine,
And lo! the long laborious miles,
Of Palace; lo! the giant aisles,
Rich in model and design;
Harvest-tool and husbandry,
Loom and wheel and engin'ry,
Secrets of the sullen mine,

Steel and gold, and corn and wine,
Fabric rough, or Fairy fine,
Sunny tokens of the Line,

Polar marvels, and a feast

Of wonder out of West and East,
And shapes and hues of Art divine!
All of beauty, all of use,
That one fair planet can produce.
Brought from under every star,
Blown from over every main,
And mixt, as life is mixt with pain,
The works of peace with works of war.

O ye, the wise who think, the wise who reign,
From growing commerce loose her latest chain,
And let the fair white-winged peacemaker fly
To happy havens under all the sky,
And mix the seasons and the golden hours,
Till each man finds his own in all men's good,
And all men work in noble brotherhood,
Breaking their mailed fleets and armed towers,
And ruling by obeying Nature's powers,
And gathering all the fruits of peace and crown'd
with all her flowers.

A DEDICATION.

DEAR, near and true-no truer Time himself
Can prove you, tho' he make you evermore
Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life
Shoots to the fall-take this, and pray that he,.

Who wrote it, honoring your sweet faith in him,
May trust himself; and spite of praise and scorn,
As one who feels the immeasurable world,
Attain the wise indifference of the wise;
And after Autumn past-if left to pass
His autumn into seeming-leafless days-
Draw toward the long frost and longest night,
Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the fruit
Which in our winter woodland looks a flower.*

Till himself was deadly wounded
Falling on the dead.
Dismal error! fearful slaughter!
Years have wander'd by,
Side by side beneath the water
Crew and Captain lie;
There the sunlit ocean tosses
O'er them mouldering,
And the lonely seabird crosses
With one waft of the wing.

THE CAPTAIN.

A LEGEND OF THE NAVY. HE that only rules by terror

Doeth grievous wrong.

Deep as Hell I count his error,
Let him hear my song.

Brave the Captain was: the seamen
Made a gallant crew,

Gallant sons of English freemen,
Sailors bold and true.

But they hated his oppression,
Stern he was and rash;
So for every light transgression
Doom'd them to the lash.
Day by day more harsh and cruel
Seem'd the Captain's mood.
Secret wrath like smother'd fuel
Burnt in each man's blood.
Yet he hoped to purchase glory,
Hoped to make the name
Of his vessel great in story,

Wheresoe'er he came.

So they past by capes and islands, Many a harbor-mouth,

Sailing under palmy highlands

Far within the South.

On a day when they were going
O'er the lone expanse,

In the North, her canvas flowing,
Rose a ship of France.

Then the Captain's color heighten'd
Joyful came his speech:

But a cloudy gladness lighten'd

In the eyes of each.

"Chase,"
," he said: the ship flew forward,
And the wind did blow;
Stately, lightly, went she Norward,
Till she near'd the foe.

Then they look'd at him they hated,
Had what they desired:

Mute with folded arms they waited-
Not a gun was fired.

But they heard the foeman's thunder
Roaring out their doom;

All the air was torn in sunder,

Crashing went the boom,

Spars were splinter'd, decks were shatter'd,
Bullets fel! like rain;

Over mast and deck were scatter'd
Blood and brains of men.

Spars were splinter'd: decks were broken:
Every mother's son-

Down they dropt-no word was spokenEach beside his gun.

On the decks as they were lying,

Were their faces grim.

In their blood, as they lay dying,

Did they smile on him.

Those, in whom he had reliance

For his noble name,

With one smile of still defiance

Sold him unto shame.

Shame and wrath his heart confounded,
Pale he turn'd and red,

*The fruit of the Spindle-tree (Euonymus Europaus).

THREE SONNETS TO A COQUETTE. CARESS'D or chidden by the dainty hand, And singing airy trifles this or that, Light Hope at Beauty's call would perch and stand, And run thro' every change of sharp and flat: And Fancy came and at her pillow sat, When Sleep had bound her in his rosy band, And chased away the still-recurring gnat, And woke her with a lay from fairy land. But now they live with Beauty less and less, For Hope is other Hope and wanders far, Nor cares to lisp in love's delicious creeds; And Fancy watches in the wilderness, Poor Fancy sadder than a single star,

That sets at twilight in a land of reeds.

2.

The form, the form alone is eloquent!
A nobler yearning never broke her rest
Than but to dance and sing, be gayly drest,
And win all eyes with all accomplishment:
Yet in the waltzing-circle as we went,

My fancy made me for a moment blest

To find my heart so near the beauteous breast That once had power to rob it of content. A moment came the tenderness of tears, The phantom of a wish that once could move, A ghost of passion that no smiles restoreFor ah! the slight coquette, she cannot love, And if you kiss'd her feet a thousand years,

She still would take the praise, and care no 3.

more.

Wan Sculptor, weepest thou to take the cast
Of those dead lineaments that near thee lie?
O sorrowest thou, pale Painter, for the past,
In painting some dead friend from memory?
Weep on beyond his object Love can last:
His object lives: more cause to weep have I:
My tears, no tears of love, are flowing fast,
No tears of love, but tears that Love can die.
I pledge her not in any cheerful cup,
Nor care to sit beside her where she sits-
Ah pity-hint it not in human tones,

But breathe it into earth and close it up
With secret death forever, in the pits
Which some green Christinas crams with weary
bones.

ON A MOURNER.

NATURE, So far as in her lies,

Imitates God, and turns her face

To every land beneath the skies,

Counts nothing that she meets with base, But lives and loves in every place;

2.

Fills out the homely quick-set screens,

And makes the purple lilac ripe, Steps from her airy hill, and greens The swamp, where hums the dropping snipe, With moss and braided marish-pipe;