Chapter 7

I have been where Nile's broad river Flows upon the burning sand; Where the desert monster broodeth, Where the Eastern palm-trees stand; I have been where pathless forests Spread a black eternal shade; Where the lurking panther hiding Glares from every tangled glade; But in vain I wandered wide, He was always by my side! Then I fled where snows eternal Cold and dreary ever lie; Where the rosy lightnings gleam, Flashing through the northern sky; Where the red sun turns again Back upon his path of pain;-- But a shadowy form was with me-- I had fled in vain!

I have thought, "If I can gaze Sternly on him he will fade, For I know that he is nothing But a dim ideal shade." As I gazed at him the more, He grew stronger than before!

Then I said, "Mine arm is strong, I will make him turn and flee:" I have struggled with him long-- But that could never be!

Once I battled with him so That I thought I laid him low; Then in trembling joy I fled, While again and still again Murmuring to myself I said, "Mine old enemy is dead!" And I stood beneath the stars, When a chill came on my frame, And a fear I could not name, And a sense of quick despair, And, lo! mine enemy was there!

Listen, for my soul is weary, Weary of its endless woe; I have called on one to aid me Mightier even than my foe. Strength and hope fail day by day; I shall cheat him of his prey; Some day soon, I know not when, He will stab me through and through; He has wounded me before, But my heart can bear no more; Pray that hour may come to me, Only then shall I be free; Death alone has strength to take me Where my foe can never be; Death, and Death alone, has power To conquer mine old enemy!

VERSE: THE TRIUMPH OF TIME

The tender delicate Flowers, I saw them fanned by a warm western wind, Fed by soft summer showers, Shielded by care, and yet, (oh Fate unkind!) Fade in a few short hours.

The gentle and the gay, Rich in a glorious Future of bright deeds, Rejoicing in the day, Are met by Death, who sternly, sadly leads Them far away.

And Hopes, perfumed and bright, So lately shining, wet with dew and tears, Trembling in morning light; I saw them change to dark and anxious fears Before the night!

I wept that all must die-- "Yet Love," I cried, "doth live, and conquer death--" And Time passed by, And breathed on Love, and killed it with his breath Ere Death was nigh.

More bitter far than all It was to know that Love could change and die-- Hush! for the ages call "The Love of God lives through eternity, And conquers all!"

VERSE: A PARTING

Without one bitter feeling let us part-- And for the years in which your love has shed A radiance like a glory round my head, I thank you, yes, I thank you from my heart.

I thank you for the cherished hope of years, A starry future, dim and yet divine, Winging its way from Heaven to be mine, Laden with joy, and ignorant of tears.

I thank you, yes, I thank you even more That my heart learnt not without love to live, But gave and gave, and still had more to give, From an abundant and exhaustless store.

I thank you, and no grief is in these tears; I thank you, not in bitterness but truth, For the fair vision that adorned my youth And glorified so many happy years.

Yet how much more I thank you that you tore At length the veil your hand had woven away, Which hid my idol was a thing of clay, And false the altar I had knelt before.

I thank you that you taught me the stern truth, (None other could have told and I believed,) That vain had been my life, and I deceived, And wasted all the purpose of my youth.

I thank you that your hand dashed down the shrine, Wherein my idol worship I had paid; Else had I never known a soul was made To serve and worship only the Divine.

I thank you that the heart I cast away On such as you, though broken, bruised and crushed, Now that its fiery throbbing is all hushed, Upon a worthier altar I can lay.

I thank you for the lesson that such love Is a perverting of God's royal right, That it is made but for the Infinite, And all too great to live except above.

I thank you for a terrible awaking, And if reproach seemed hidden in my pain, And sorrow seemed to cry on your disdain, Know that my blessing lay in your forsaking.

Farewell for ever now:- in peace we part; And should an idle vision of my tears Arise before your soul in after years-- Remember that I thank you from my heart!

VERSE: THE GOLDEN GATE

Dim shadows gather thickly round, and up the misty stair they climb, The cloudy stair that upward leads to where the closed portals shine, Round which the kneeling spirits wait the opening of the Golden Gate.

And some with eager longing go, still pressing forward, hand in hand, And some with weary step and slow, look back where their Beloved stand-- Yet up the misty stair they climb, led onward by the Angel Time.

As unseen hands roll back the doors, the light that floods the very air Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory hidden there-- And morn and eve, and soon and late, the shadows pass within the gate.

As one by one they enter in, and the stern portals close once more, The halo seems to linger round those kneeling closest to the door: The joy that lightened from that place shines still upon the watcher's face.

The faint low echo that we hear of far-off music seems to fill The silent air with love and fear, and the world's clamours all grow still, Until the portals close again, and leave us toiling on in pain.

Complain not that the way is long--what road is weary that leads there? But let the Angel take thy hand, and lead thee up the misty stair, And then with beating heart await, the opening of the Golden Gate.

VERSE: PHANTOMS

Back, ye Phantoms of the Past; In your dreary caves remain: What have I to do with memories Of a long-forgotten pain?

For my Present is all peaceful, And my Future nobly planned: Long ago Time's mighty billows Swept your footsteps from the sand.

Back into your caves; nor haunt me With your voices full of woe; I have buried grief and sorrow In the depths of Long-ago.

See the glorious clouds of morning Roll away, and clear and bright Shine the rays of cloudless daylight-- Wherefore will ye moan of night?

Never shall my heart be burthened With its ancient woe and fears; I can drive them from my presence, I can check these foolish tears.

Back, ye Phantoms; leave, oh leave me To a new and happy lot; Speak no more of things departed; Leave me--for I know ye not.

Can it be that 'mid my gladness I must ever hear you wail, Of the grief that wrung my spirit, And that made my cheek so pale?

Joy is mine; but your sad voices Murmur ever in mine ear: Vain is all the Future's promise, While the dreary Past is here.

Vain, oh worse than vain, the Visions That my heart, my life would fill, If the Past's relentless phantoms Call upon me still!

VERSE: THANKFULNESS

My God, I thank Thee who hast made The Earth so bright; So full of splendour and of joy, Beauty and light; So many glorious things are here, Noble and right!

I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made Joy to abound; So many gentle thoughts and deeds Circling us round, That in the darkest spot of Earth Some love is found.

I thank Thee more that all our joy Is touched with pain; That shadows fall on brightest hours; That thorns remain; So that Earth's bliss may be our guide, And not our chain.

For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon Our weak heart clings, Hast given us joys, tender and true, Yet all with wings, So that we see, gleaming on high, Diviner things!

I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept The best in store; We have enough, yet not too much To long for more: A yearning for a deeper peace, Not known before.

I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls, Though amply blest, Can never find, although they seek, A perfect rest-- Nor ever shall, until they lean On Jesus' breast!

VERSE: HOME-SICKNESS

Where I am, the halls are gilded, Stored with pictures bright and rare; Strains of deep melodious music Float upon the perfumed air:- Nothing stirs the dreary silence Save the melancholy sea, Near the poor and humble cottage, Where I fain would be!

Where I am, the sun is shining, And the purple windows glow, Till their rich armorial shadows Stain the marble floor below:- Faded Autumn leaves are trembling, On the withered jasmine tree, Creeping round the little casement, Where I fain would be!

Where I am, the days are passing O'er a pathway strewn with flowers; Song and joy and starry pleasures Crown the happy smiling hours:- Slowly, heavily, and sadly, Time with weary wings must flee, Marked by pain, and toil, and sorrow, Where I fain would be!

Where I am, the great and noble Tell me of renown and fame, And the red wine sparkles highest, To do honour to my name:- Far away a place is vacant, By a humble hearth, for me, Dying embers dimly show it, Where I fain would be!

Where I am, are glorious dreaminess, Science, genius, art divine; And the great minds whom all honour Interchange their thoughts with mine:- A few simple hearts are waiting, Longing, wearying, for me, Far away where tears are falling, Where I fain would be!

Where I am, all think me happy, For so well I play my part, None can guess, who smile around me, How far distant is my heart-- Far away, in a poor cottage, Listening to the dreary sea, Where the treasures of my life are, Where I fain would be!

VERSE: WISHES

All the fluttering wishes Caged within thy heart Beat their wings against it, Longing to depart, Till they shake their prison With their wounded cry; Open wide thy heart to-day, And let the captives fly.

Let them first fly upward Through the starry air, Till you almost lose them, For their home is there; Then, with outspread pinions, Circling round and round, Wing their way, wherever Want and woe are found.

Where the weary stitcher Toils for daily bread; Where the lonely watcher Watches by her dead; Where with thin weak fingers, Toiling at the loom, Stand the little children, Blighted ere they bloom.

Where, by darkness blinded, Groping for the light, With distorted conscience Men do wrong for right; Where, in the cold shadow, By smooth pleasure thrown, Human hearts by hundreds Harden into stone.

Where on dusty highways, With faint heart and slow, Cursing the glad sunlight, Hungry outcasts go: Where all mirth is silenced, And the hearth is chill, For one place is empty, And one voice is still.

Some hearts will be lighter While your captives roam For their tender singing, Then recal them home; When the sunny hours Into night depart, Softly they will nestle In a quiet heart.

VERSE: THE PEACE OF GOD

We ask for Peace, oh Lord! Thy children ask Thy Peace; Not what the world calls rest, That toil and care should cease, That through bright sunny hours Calm Life should fleet away, And tranquil night should fade In smiling day;-- It is not for such Peace that we would pray.

We ask for Peace, oh Lord! Yet not to stand secure, Girt round with iron Pride, Contented to endure: Crushing the gentle strings That human hearts should know, Untouched by others' joy Or others' woe;-- Thou, oh dear Lord, wilt never teach us so.

We ask Thy Peace, oh Lord! Through storm, and fear, and strife, To light and guide us on, Through a long struggling life: While no success or gain Shall cheer the desperate fight, Or nerve, what the world calls, Our wasted might:- Yet pressing through the darkness to the light.

It is Thine own, oh Lord, Who toil while others sleep; Who sow with loving care What other hands shall reap: They lean on Thee entranced, In calm and perfect rest: Give us that Peace, oh Lord, Divine and blest, Thou keepest for those hearts who love Thee best.

VERSE: LIFE IN DEATH AND DEATH IN LIFE

I.

If the dread day that calls thee hence, Through a red mist of fear should loom, (Closing in deadliest night and gloom Long hours of aching dumb suspense,) And leave me to my lonely doom.

I think, beloved, I could see In thy dear eyes the loving light Glaze into vacancy and night, And still say, "God is good to me, And all that He decrees is right."

That, watching thy slow struggling breath, And answering each imperfect sign, I still could pray thy prayer and mine, And tell thee, dear, though this was death, That God was love, and love divine.

Could hold thee in my arms, and lay Upon my heart thy weary head, And meet thy last smile ere it fled; Then hear, as in a dream, one say, "Now all is over,--she is dead."

Could smooth thy garments with fond care, And cross thy hands upon thy breast, And kiss thine eyelids down to rest, And yet say no word of despair, But, through my sobbing, "It is best."

Could stifle down the gnawing pain, And say, "We still divide our life, She has the rest, and I the strife, And mine the loss, and hers the gain: My ill with bliss for her is rife."

Then turn, and the old duties take-- Alone now--yet with earnest will Gathering sweet sacred traces still To help me on, and, for thy sake, My heart and life and soul to fill.

I think I could check vain weak tears, And toil,--although the world's great space Held nothing but one vacant place, And see the dark and weary years Lit only by a vanished grace.

And sometimes, when the day was o'er, Call up the tender past again: Its painful joy, its happy pain, And live it over yet once more, And say, "But few more years remain."

And then, when I had striven my best, And all around would smiling say, "See how Time makes all grief decay," Would lie down thankfully to rest, And seek thee in eternal day.

II.

But if the day should ever rise-- It could not and it cannot be-- Yet, if the sun should ever see, Looking upon us from his skies, A day that took thy heart from me;

If loving thee still more and more, And still so willing to be blind, I should the bitter knowledge find, That Time had eaten out the core Of love, and left the empty rind;

If the poor lifeless words, at last, (The soul gone, that was once so sweet,) Should cease my eager heart to cheat, And crumble back into the past, And show the whole a vain deceit;

If I should see thee turn away, And know that prayer, and time, and pain, Could no more thy lost love regain, Than bid the hours of dying day Gleam in their mid-day noon again;

If I should loose thy hand, and know That henceforth we must dwell apart, Since I had seen thy love depart, And only count the hours flow By the dull throbbing of my heart;

If I should gaze and gaze in vain Into thine eyes so deep and clear, And read the truth of all my fear Half mixed with pity for my pain, And sorrow for the vanished year;

If not to grieve thee overmuch, I strove to counterfeit disdain, And weave me a new life again, Which thy life could not mar, or touch, And so smile down my bitter pain;

The ghost of my dead Past would rise And mock me, and I could not dare Look to a future of despair, Or even to the eternal skies, For I should still be lonely there.

All Truth, all Honour, then would seem Vain clouds, which the first wind blew by; All Trust, a folly doomed to die; All Life, a useless empty dream; All Love--since thine had failed--a lie.

But see, thy tender smile has cast My fear away: this thought of mine Is treason to my Love and thine; For Love is Life, and Death at last Crowns it eternal and divine!

VERSE: RECOLLECTIONS

As strangers, you and I are here; We both as aliens stand, Where once, in years gone by, I dwelt No stranger in the land. Then while you gaze on park and stream, Let me remain apart, And listen to the awakened sound Of voices in my heart.

Here, where upon the velvet lawn The cedar spreads its shade, And by the flower-beds all around, Bright roses bloom and fade; Shrill merry childish laughter rings, And baby voices sweet, And by me, on the path, I hear The tread of little feet.

Down the dark avenue of limes, Whose perfume loads the air, Whose boughs are rustling overhead, (For the west wind is there,) I hear the sound of earnest talk, Warnings and counsels wise, And the quick questioning that brought Such gentle calm replies.

Still the light bridge hangs o'er the lake, Where broad-leaved lilies lie, And the cool water shows again The cloud that moves on high;-- And one voice speaks, in tones I thought The past for ever kept; But now I know, deep in my heart Its echoes only slept.

I hear, within the shady porch, Once more, the measured sound Of the old ballads that were read, While we sat listening round; The starry passion-flower still Up the green trellice climbs; The tendrils waving seem to keep The cadence of the rhymes.

I might have striven, and striven in vain, Such visions to recall, Well known and yet forgotten; now I see, I hear, them all! The Present pales before the Past, Who comes with angel wings; As in a dream I stand, amidst Strange yet familiar things!

Enough; so let us go, mine eyes Are blinded by their tears; A voice speaks to my soul to-day Of long forgotten years. And yet the vision in my heart, In a few hours more, Will fade into the silent past, Silently as before.

VERSE: ILLUSION

Where the golden corn is bending, And the singing reapers pass, Where the chestnut woods are sending Leafy showers upon the grass,

The blue river onward flowing Mingles with its noisy strife, The murmur of the flowers growing, And the hum of insect life.

I, from that rich plain was gazing Towards the snowy mountains high, Who their gleaming peaks were raising Up against the purple sky.

And the glory of their shining, Bathed in clouds of rosy light, Set my weary spirit pining For a home so pure and bright!

So I left the plain, and weary, Fainting, yet with hope sustained, Toiled through pathways long and dreary Till the mountain top was gained.

Lo! the height that I had taken, As so shining from below, Was a desolate, forsaken Region of perpetual snow.

I am faint, my feet are bleeding, All my feeble strength is worn, In the plain no soul is heeding, I am here alone, forlorn.

Lights are shining, bells are tolling, In the busy vale below; Near me night's black clouds are rolling, Gathering o'er a waste of snow.

So I watch the river winding Through the misty fading plain, Bitter are the tear-drops blinding, Bitter useless toil and pain-- Bitterest of all the finding That my dream was false and vain!

VERSE: A VISION

Gloomy and black are the cypress trees, Drearily waileth the chill night breeze. The long grass waveth, the tombs are white, And the black clouds flit o'er the chill moonlight. Silent is all save the dropping rain, When slowly there cometh a mourning train, The lone churchyard is dark and dim, And the mourners raise a funeral hymn:

"Open, dark grave, and take her; Though we have loved her so, Yet we must now forsake her, Love will no more awake her: (Oh, bitter woe!) Open thine arms and take her To rest below!

"Vain is our mournful weeping, Her gentle life is o'er; Only the worm is creeping, Where she will soon be sleeping, For evermore-- Nor joy nor love is keeping For her in store!"

Gloomy and black are the cypress trees, And drearily wave in the chill night breeze. The dark clouds part and the heavens are blue, Where the trembling stars are shining through. Slowly across the gleaming sky, A crowd of white angels are passing by. Like a fleet of swans they float along, Or the silver notes of a dying song. Like a cloud of incense their pinions rise, Fading away up the purple skies. But hush! for the silent glory is stirred, By a strain such as earth has never heard:

"Open, oh Heaven! we bear her, This gentle maiden mild, Earth's griefs we gladly spare her, From earthly joys we tear her, Still undefiled; And to thine arms we bear her, Thine own, thy child.

"Open, oh Heaven! no morrow Will see this joy o'ercast, No pain, no tears, no sorrow, Her gentle heart will borrow; Sad life is past; Shielded and safe from sorrow, At home at last."

But the vision faded and all was still, On the purple valley and distant hill. No sound was there save the wailing breeze, The rain, and the rustling cypress trees.

VERSE: PICTURES IN THE FIRE

What is it you ask me, darling? All my stories, child, you know; I have no strange dreams to tell you, Pictures I have none to show.

Tell you glorious scenes of travel? Nay, my child, that cannot be, I have seen no foreign countries, Marvels none on land or sea.

Yet strange sights in truth I witness, And I gaze until I tire, Wondrous pictures, changing ever, As I look into the fire.

There, last night, I saw a cavern, Black as pitch; within it lay Coiled in many folds a dragon, Glaring as if turned at bay.

And a knight in dismal armour On a winged eagle came, To do battle with this dragon; And his crest was all of flame.

As I gazed the dragon faded, And, instead, sate Pluto crowned, By a lake of burning fire; Spirits dark were crouching round.

That was gone, and lo! before me, A cathedral vast and grim; I could almost hear the organ Peal alone the arches dim.

As I watched the wreathed pillars, Groves of stately palms arose, And a group of swarthy Indians Stealing on some sleeping foes.

Stay; a cataract glancing brightly, Dashed and sparkled; and beside Lay a broken marble monster, Mouth and eyes were staring wide.

Then I saw a maiden wreathing Starry flowers in garlands sweet; Did she see the fiery serpent That was wrapped about her feet?

That fell crashing all and vanished; And I saw two armies close-- I could almost hear the clarions, And the shouting of the foes.

They were gone; and lo! bright angels, On a barren mountain wild, Raised appealing arms to Heaven, Bearing up a little child.

And I gazed, and gazed, and slowly Gathered in my eyes sad tears, And the fiery pictures bore me Back through distant dreams of years.

Once again I tasted sorrow, With past joy was once more gay, Till the shade had gathered round me-- And the fire had died away.

VERSE: THE SETTLERS

Two stranger youths in the Far West, Beneath the ancient forest trees, Pausing, amid their toil to rest, Spake of their home beyond the seas; Spake of the hearts that beat so warmly, Of the hearts they loved so well. In their chilly northern country. "Would," they cried, "some voice could tell Where they are, our own beloved ones!" They looked up to the evening sky Half hidden by the giant branches, But heard no angel-voice reply. All silent was the quiet evening; Silent were the ancient trees; They only heard the murmuring song Of the summer breeze, That gently played among The acacia trees. And did no warning spirit answer, Amid the silence all around; "Before the lowly village altar She thou lovest may be found, Thou, who trustest still so blindly, Know she stands a smiling bride! Forgetting thee, she turneth kindly To the stranger at her side. Yes, this day thou art forgotten, Forgotten, too, thy last farewell, All the vows that she has spoken, And thy heart has kept so well. Dream no more of a starry future, In thy home beyond the seas!" But he only heard the gentle sigh Of the summer breeze, So softly passing by The acacia trees.

And vainly, too, the other, looking Smiling up through hopeful tears, Asked in his heart of hearts, "Where is she, She I love these many years?" He heard no echo calling faintly: "Lo, she lieth cold and pale, And her smile so calm and saintly Heeds not grieving sob or wail-- Heeds not the lilies strewn upon her, Pure as she is, and as white, Or the solemn chanting voices, Or the taper's ghastly light." But silent still was the ancient forest, Silent were the gloomy trees, He only heard the wailing sound Of the summer breeze, That sadly played around The acacia trees

VERSE: HUSH

"I can scarcely hear," she murmured, "For my heart beats loud and fast, But surely, in the far, far distance, I can hear a sound at last." "It is only the reapers singing, As they carry home their sheaves, And the evening breeze has risen, And rustles the dying leaves."