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Soul.
I hear the voices that I left on earth.

Angel.
It is the voice of friends around thy bed,
Who say the " Subvenite '' with the priest.
Hither the echoes come ; before the Throne
Stands the great Angel of Agony,
The same who strengihen'd Him, what time

He knelt
Lone in that garden shade, bedew'd with

blood.
That Angel best can plead with Him for all
Tormented souls, the dying and the dead.

Angel of the Agony.

Jesu ! by that shuddering dread which fell on

Thee ;
Jesu ! by that cold dismay which sicken'd

Thee ;



230 THE DREAM OF GERONTJUS.

Jesu ! by that pang of heart which thrill'd in

Thee ;
Jesu ! by that mount of sins which crippled

Thee ;
Jesu ! by that sense of guilt which stifled

Thee ;
Jesu ! by that innocence which girdled Thee ;
Jesu ! by that sanctity which reign'd in Thee ;
Jesu ! by that Godhead which was one with

Thee ;
Jesu ! spare these souls which are so dear to

Thee ;
Who in prison, calm and patient, wait for

Thee ;
Hasten, Lord, their hour, and bid them come

to Thee,
To that glorious Home, where they shall ever

gaze on Thee.

Soul.
I go before my Judge. Ah ! . . . .
Angel.
.... Praise to Plis Name !
The eager spirit has darted from my hold,
And, with intemperate energy of love,



THE DREAM OF GERONTIUS. 23 1

Flies to the dear feet of Emmanuel ;
But, ere it reach them, the keen sanctity,
Which with its effluence, like a glory, clothes
And circles round the Crucifisd, has seized,
And scorch'd, and shriveU'd ; and now it lies
Passive and still before the awful Throne.
O happy, suffering soul ! for it is safe,
Consumed, yet quicken'd, by the glance of
God.

Soul.

Take me away, and in the lowest deep

There let me be,
And there in hope the lone night-watches
keep.

Told out for me.
There, motionless and happy in my pain,

Lone, not forlorn, —
Tliere will I sing my sad perpetual strain,

Until the morn.
There will I sing, and soothe my stricken
breast.

Which ne'er can cease
To throb, and pine, and languish, till posscst

Of its Sole Peace.



232 THE DREAM OF GERONTIUS.

There will I sing my absent Lord and Love :—

Take me away,
That sooner 1 may rise, and go above,
And see Him in the truth of everlasting^ dav



§ 7-

Angel.

Now let the golden prison ope its gates,
]\Iaking sweet music, as each fold revolves
Upon its ready hinge.

^ * * * * *

Souls in Prison.

1. Lord, Thou hast been our refuge ; in every

generation ;

2. Before the hills were born, and the world

was ; from age to age Thou art God.

3. Bring us not, Lord, very low ; for Thou

hast said, Come back again, ye sons of
Adam.



THE DREAM OF GERONTIUS. 233

4. A thousand years before Thine eyes are but

as yesterday : and as a watch of the night
which is come and gone.

5. The grass springs up in the morning : at

evening tide it shrivels up and dies.

6. So we fail in Thine anger : and in Thy

wrath are we troubled.

7. Thou hast set our sins in Thy sight : and

our round of days in the light of Thy
countenance.

8. Come back, O Lord ! how long ; and be

entreated for Thy servants.

9. In Thy morning we shall be filled with

Thy mercy : we shall rejoice and be in
pleasure all our days.

10. We shall be glad according to the days

of our humiliation : and the years in
which we have seen evil.

11. Look, O Lord, upon Thy servants and
on Thy work : and direct their children.



2 34 THE DREAM OF GERONTIUS.

12. And let the beauty of the Lord our God
be upon us : and the work of our hands,
establish Thou it.



Glory be to the Father, and to the Son : and

to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, zxA ever

shall be : world without end. Amen.

:)t Hi sjs >ii :!c

TJu' Oratory. January, iSb^.



There is in stillness oft a

magic power
To calm the breast, when
struggling passions lower;
"Touch'd by its influence, in*

the soul arise
Diviner feelings, kindred

with the skies.
By this the Arab's kindling

thoughts expand,
When circlirlg skies enclose
the desert sand ;
For this the hermit seeks the thickest grove,
To catch th' inspiring glow of heavenly love.
It is not solely in the freedom given
To purify and fix the heart on heaven ;
There is a Spirit singing aye in air,
That lifts us high above all mortal care.
No mortal measure swells that mystic sound,
No mortal minstrel breathes such tones
around, —

23s



236 APPENDIX.

The Angels' hymn, — the sovereign harmony
That guides the rolhng orbs along the sky, —
And hence perchance the tales of saints who

view'd
And heard Angelic choirs in solitude.
By most unheard, — because the earthly din
Of toil or mirth has charms their ears to win.
Alas for man ! he knows not of the bliss.
The heaven that brightens such a life as this.

Oxford. Michaehnas Term, 18 18 .



TO F. W. N.



A BIRTHDAY OFFERING.



Dear Frank, this morn has ushered in
The manhood of thy days ;

A boy no more, thou must begin
To choose thy future ways ;

To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart,

For maintenance of a. noble part.



TO F. W. N. 2^^]

And thou a voucher fair hast given,

Of what thou wilt achieve,
Ere age has dimm'd thy sun-Ht heaven

In weary Life's chill eve ;
Should Sovereign Wisdom in its grace
Vouchsafe to thee so long a race.

My brother, we are link'd with chain
That time shall ne'er destroy ;

Together we have been in pain,
Together now in joy ;

For duly I to share may claim

The present brightness of thy name.

My brother, 'tis no recent tie

Which binds our fates in one,

E'en from our tender infancy

The twisted thread was spun ; —

Her deed, who stored in her fond mind

Our forms, by sacred love enshrined.

In her affection all had share.

All six, she loved them all ;
Yet on her early-chosen Pair

Did her full favor fall ; '

1 Of course the allusion is not to the author's moth-
er : a mother has no favorites.



2^8 APPENDIX.

And we became her dearest theme,
Her waking thought, her nightly dream.

Ah I brother, shall we e'er forget
Her love, her care, her zeal ?

We cannot pay the countless debt,
But we must ever feel ;

For through her earnestness were shed

Prayer-purchased blessings on our head.



Though in the end of days she stood,
And pain and weakness came,

Her force of thought was unsubdued.
Her fire of love the same ;

And e'en when memory fail'd its part,

We still kept lodgment in her heart.



And when her Maker from the thrall
Of flesh her spirit freed.

No suffering 'companied the call,
— In mercy 'twas decreed, —

One mom2nt here, the next she trod

The viewless mansion of her God.



TO F. W. N. 239

Now then at length she is at rest,

And, after many a woe,
Rejoices in that Saviour blest,

Who was her hope below ;
Kept till the day when he shall own
His saints before His Father's throne.

So it is left for us to prove

Her prayers were not in vain ;

And that God's grace-according love
Has fall'n as gentle rain.

Which, sent in the due vernal hour,

Tints the young leaf, perfumes the flower.

Dear Frank, we both are summon'd now
As champions of the Lord ; —

Enroird am I, and shortly thou
Must buckle on thy sword ;

A high employ, nor lightly given.

To serve as messengers of heaven !

Deep in my heart that gift I hide ;

I change it not away
For patriot-warrior's hour of pride,

Or statesman's tranquil sway ;



240 APPENDIX.

For poet s fire, or pleader's skill

To pierce the soul and lame the will.

O ! may we follow undismay'd
Where'er our God shall call !

And may His Spirit's present aid
Uphold us lest we fall !

Till in the end of days we stand,

As victors in a deathless land.

Chiswick. June 27 ^ 1826.



NATURE AND ART.

FOR AN ALBUM.

" Man goeth forth " ' with reckless trust

Upon his wealth of mind,
As if in self a thing of dust

Creative skill might find ;
He schemes and toils ; stone, wood, and ore
Subject or weapon of his power.

1 Psalm civ. [ciii.] 23.



NATURE AND ART. 241

By arch ana spire, by tower-girt heights,

He would his boast fulfil ;
By marble births, and mimic lights,—

Yet lacks one secret still ;
Where is the master-hand shall give
To breathe, to move, to speak, to live?

take away this shade of might,
The puny toil of man,

And let great Nature in my sight
Unroll her gorgeous plan ;

1 cannot bear those sullen walls.

Those eyeless towers, those tongueless halls.

Art's labor'd toys of highest name
Are nerveless, cold, and dumb ;

And man is fitted but to frame
A coffin c^r a tomb ;

Well suit when sense is pass'd away,

Such lifeless works the lifeless clay.

Here let me sit where wooded hills

Skirt yon far-reaching plain ;
While cattle bank its winding rills,

And suns embrown its grain ;
16



242 APPENDIX.

Such prospect is to me right dear,
Far freedom, health, and joy are here.



There is a spirit ranging through
The earth, the stream, the air ;

Ten thousand shapes, garbs ever new,
That restless One doih wear ;

In color, scent, and taste, and sound

The energy of life is found.



The leaves are rustling in the breeze,

The bird renews her song ;
From field to brook, o'er heath, o'er trees,

The sunbeam glides along ;
The insect, happy in its hour.
Floats softly by, or sips the flower.



Now dewy rain descends, and now
Brisk showers the welkin shroud ;

I care not, though with angry brow
Frowns the red thunder-cloud ;

Let hail-storm pelt, and lightning harm,

"Tis Nature's work, and has its charm.



NATURE AND ART. 243

Ah ! lovely Nature ! others dwell

Full favor'd in thy court ;
I of thy smiles but hear them tell,

And feed on their report,
Catching what glimpse an Ul combe yields
To strangers loitering in her fields.

I go where form has ne'er unbent

The sameness of its sway ;
Where iron rule, stern precedent,

Mistreat the graceful day ;
To pine as prisoner in his cell,
And yet be thought to love it well.

Yet so His high dispose has set,

Who binds on each his part ;
Though absent, I may cherish yet

An Ul combe of the heart ;
Calm verdant hope divinely given,
And suns of peace, and scenes of heaven ; —

A soul prepared His will to meet,

Full fix'd His work to do ;
Not labored into sudden heat.

But inly born anew. —



244 APPENDIX.

So living Nature, not dull Art,

Shall plan my ways and rule my heart.

Ulcombe. Sept. 1826.



SNAPDRAGON.

A RIDDLE
FOR A FLOWER BOOK.

I AM rooted in the wall

Of buttress'd tower or ancient hall ;

Prison'd in an art-wrought bed,

Cased in mortar, cramp'd with lead

Of a living stock alone

Brother of the lifeless stone.

Else unprized, I have my worth
On the spot that gives me birth :
Nature's vast and varied field
Braver flowers than me will yield,
Bold in form and rich in hue,
Children of a purer dew ;
Smiling lips and winning eyes
Meet for earthly paradise.



SNAPDRAGON. 245

Choice are such, — and yet thou knowest
Highest he whose lot is lowest.
They, proud hearts, a home reject
Framed by human architect ;
Humble-I can bear to dwell
Near the pale recluse's cell,
And I spread my crimson bloom,
Mingled with the cloister's gloom.

Life's gay gifts and honors rare,

Flowers of favor ! win and wear !

Rose of beauty, be the queen

In pleasure's ring and festive scene

Ivy, climb and cluster, where

Lordly oaks vouchsafe a stair.

Vaunt, fair Lily, stately dame.

Pride of birth and pomp of name,

Miser Crocus, starved with cold

Hide in earth thy timid gold.

Travell'd Dahlia, freely boast

Knowledge brought from foreign coast.

Pleasure, wealth, birth, knowledge, power

These have each an emblem flower ;

So for me alone remains

Lowly thought and cheerful pains.



246 APPENDIX.

Ba it mine to set restraint

On roving wish and selfish plaint ;

And for man's drear haunts to leave

Dewy mom and balmy eve.

Be it mine the barren stone

To deck with green life not its own

So to soften and to grace

Of human works the rugged face.

Mine, the Unseen to display

In the crowded public way,

Where life's busy arts combine

To shut out the Hand Divine.



Ah ! no more a scentless flower,
By approving Heaven's high power.
Suddenly my leaves exhale
Fragrance of the Syrian gale.
Ah ! 'tis timely comfort given
By the answering breath of Heaven
May it be ! then well might I
In College cloister live and die.

Uicombe. Oct. 2, 1S27 .



A PICTURE. 247



A PICTURE.

" The maiden is noi; dead, but sleepeth."

She is not gone ; — still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live.

In form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.

Still, still is ours the modest eye ;

The smile unwrought by art ;
The glance that shot so piercingly

Affection's keenest dart ;

The thrilling voice, I ne'er could hear

But felt a joy and pain ; —
A pride that she was ours, a fear

Ours she might not remain ;

Whether the page divine call'd forth
Its clear, sweet, tranquil tone,

Or cheerful hymn, or seemly mirth
In sprightlier measure shown ;



24 S APPENDIX.

The meek inquiry of that face,

Musing on wonders found,
As 'mid dim paths she sought to trace

The truth on sacred ground ;

The thankful sigh that would arise,
When aught her doubts removed.

Full sure the explaining voice to prize,
Admiring while she loved ;

The pensive brow, the world might see
When she in crowds was found ;

The burst of heart, the o'erflowing glee
When only friends were round ;

Hope's warmth of promise,, prompt to fill
The thoughts with good in store,

Match'd with content's deep stream, which stilJ
Flow'd on, when hope was o'er ;

That peace, which, with its own bright day,
Made cheapest sights shine fair ;

That purest grace, which track'd its way
Safe from aught earthly there.



A PICTURE. 249

Such was she in the sudden hour
That brought her Maker's call, —

Proving her heart's self-mastering power
Blithely to part with all, —

All her eye loved, all her hand press'd

With keen affection's glow,
The voice of home, all pleasures best,

All dearest thoughts below.

From friend-lit hearth, from social boards

All duteously she rose ;
For faith upon the Master's word

Can find a sure repose.

And in her wonder up she sped,

And tried relief in vain ;
Then laid her down upon her bed

Of languor and of pain, —

And waited till the solemn spell

(A Img'ring night and day,)
Should fill its numbers, and compel

Her soul to come away.



250 APPENDIX.

Such was she then ; and such she is,
Shrined in each mourner's breast ;

Such shall she be, and more than this,
In promised glory blest ;

When in due lines her Saviour dear

His scatter'd saints shall range,
And knit in love souls parted here,

Where cloud is none, nor change.

Oxford. August, 1828.



MY LADY NATURE AND HER
DAUGHTERS.

Ladies, well 1 deem, delight

In comely tire to move ;
Soft, and delicate, and bright,

Are the robes they love.
Silks, where hues alternate play,
Shawls, and scarfs, and mantles gay,
Gold, and gems, and crisped hair,
Fling their light o'er lady fair.



MV LADY NATURE. 251

'Tis not waste, nor sinful pride,

— Name them not, nor fault beside, —

But her very cheerfulness

Prompts and weaves the curious dress ;

While her holy - thoughts still roam

Mid birth-friends and scenes of home.

Pleased to please whose praise is dear,

Glitters she ? she glitters there ; —

And she has a pattern found her

In Nature's glowing world around her.

Nature loves, as lady bright.

In gayest guise, to shine,
All forms of grace, all tints of light,

Fringe her robe divine.
Sun-lit heaven, and rain-bow cloud,
Changeful main, and mountain proud.
Branching tree, and meadow green,
All are deck'd in broider'd sheen.
Not a bird on bough-propp'd tower.
Insect slim, nor tiny flower.
Stone, nor spar, nor shell of sea
But is fair in its degree.

^ Via. I Pet. iii. 5 ; and cf. Gen. xxiv. 22, 28-30.



252 APPENDIX.

'Tis not pride, this vaunt of beauty ;
Well she 'quits her trust of duty ;
And, amid her gorgeous state,
Bright, and bland, and delicate,
Ever beaming from her face
Praise of a Father's love we trace.

Ladies, shrinking from the view

Of the prying day,
In tranquil diligence pursue

Their heaven-appointed way.
Noiseless duties, silent cares.
Mercies lighting unawares.
Modest influence working good,
Gifts, by the keen heart understood,
Such as viewless spirits might give,
These they love, in these they live. —
Mighty Nature speeds her through
Her daily toils in silence too :
Calmly rolls her giant spheres,
Sheds by stealth her dew s kind tears ;
Cheating sage's vex'd pursuit,
Churns the sap, matures the fruit,
And, her deft hand still concealing,
Kindles motion, life, and feeling.



A/V LADY NATURE. 253

Ladies love to laugh and sing,
To rouse the chord's full sound,

Or to join the festive ring

Where dancers gather round.

Not a sight so fair on earth,

As a lady's graceful mirth ;

Not a sound so chasing pain,

As a lady's thrilling strain. —

Nor is Nature left behind

In her lighter moods of mind ;

Calm her duties to fulfil.

In her glee a prattler still.

Bird and beast of every sort

Hath its antic and its sport ;

Chattering brook, and dancing gnat,

Subtle cry of evening bat.

Moss uncouth, and twigs grotesque,

These are Nature's picturesque.

Where the birth of Poesy ?

Its fancy and its fire ?
Nature's earth, and sea, and sky.

Fervid thoughts inspire.
Where do wealth and power find rest,
When hopes have fail'd, or toil opprest .?



2 54 APPENDIX.

Parks, and lawns, and deer, and trees,
Nature's work, restore them ease. —
Rare the rich, the gifted rare, —
Where shall work-day souls repair,
Unennobled, unrefined.
From the rude world and unkind ?
Who shall fi-iend their lowly lot ?
High-born Nature answers not.
Leave her in her starry dome,
Seek we lady-lighted home.
Nature 'mid the spheres bears sway,
Ladies rule where hearts obey.
Oxford. February 4, i82g-



MONKS.

FOR A SMALL ALBUM.
( With lines on hinges to Jit it.)

Why, dear Cousin,

why
Ask for verses,
when a poet's
fount of song is

dry .^



MONKS. 255

Or, if aught be

there,
Harsh and chill, it
ill may touch the
hand of lady

fair.
Who can perfumed waters

bring
From a convent

spring ?



" Monks in the olden

time,
" They were rhymesters ? "
they were rhymesters,
but in Latin

rhyme.
Monks in the days of

old
Lived in secret,
in the Church's
kindly-sheltering

fold.



256 APPENDIX.

No bland meditators
they

Of a courtly

lay.

*They had visions

bright ? "
they had visions,
yet not sent in
slumbers soft and

light.
No ! a lesson

stern
First by vigils,
fast, and penance
theirs it was to

learn.
This their soul-ennobling

gain,
Joys wrought out by

pain.

' ' When from home they

stirr'd,
*' Sweet their voices ? " —



MONKS. 257

Still, a blessing
closed their merriest

word ;
And their gayest

smile
Told of musings
solitary,
and the hallow'd

aisle.
"Songsters? " — hark ! they answer !

round
Plaintive chantings

sound !

Grey his cowled

vest,
Whose strong heart has
pledged his service
to the cloister

blest.
Duly garb'd is

he,
As the frost-work
gems the branches
of yon stately

tree.
17



258 APPENDIX.

'Tis a danger- thwarting

spell,
And it fits me

well!

Oxford. December, 18 2g.



THE WINTER FLOWER.

A BIRTHDAY OFFERING.
[For Music.)

Bloom, beloved Flower ! —
Unknown ; — 'tis no matter.

Courts glitter brief hour,
Crowds can but flatter.

Plants in the garden

See best the Sun's glory ;

They miss the green sward in
A conservatory.



HOME. 259
PRIZED where'er KNOWN.

Sure this is a blessing,
Outrings the loud tone

Of the dull world's caressing.

Oxford. December jo, 1830.



HOME.



Where'er I roam in this fair English land,
The vision of a Temple meets my eyes :
Modest without ; within, all glorious rise
Its love-encluster'd columns, and expand
Their slender arms. Like olive-plants they

stand,
Each answ'ring each, in home's soft sympa^

thies,
Sisters and brothers. At the altar sighs
Parental fondness, and with anxious hand
Tenders its offering of young vows and prayers.
The same, and not the same, go where I will.
The vision beams ! ten thousand shrines, all

one.
Dear fertile soil ! what foreign culture bears



2 6o APPENDIX.

Such fruit ? And I through distant dimes

may run
My weary round, yet miss thy hkeness still.

Oxford. November 76, 18 J2.



THE ISLES OF THE SIRENS.

Cease, Stranger, cease those piercing notes,

The craft of Siren choirs ;
Hush the seductive voice, that floats

Upon the languid wires.

Music's ethereal fire was given,

Not to dissolve our clay,
But draw Promethean beams from Heaven,

And purge the dross away.

Weak self ! with thee the mischief lies, '

Those throbs a tale disclose ;
Nor age nor trial has made wise

The Man of many woes.
Off Lisbon. December ij^ 18 J2.



CORCYRA. 261



CORCYRA.

I SAT beneath an olive's branches grey.
And gazed upon the sight of a lost town,
By sage and poet raised to long renown ;
Where dwelt a race that on the sea held sway,
And, restless as its waters, forced a way
For civil strife a hundred states to drown.
That multitudinous stream we now note down
As though one life, in birth and in decay.
But is their being's history spent and run,
Whose spirits live in awful singleness.
Each in its self-form'd sphere of light or gloom }
Henceforth, while pondering the fierce deeds

then done,
Such reverence on me shall its seal impress
As though 1 corpses saw, and walk'd the

tomb.

At Sea. January 7, rSjj.



262 APPENDIX,

MESSINA.

"Homo sum ; humani nil a me alienum puto."

Why, wedded to the Lord, still yearns my

heart
Towards these scenes of ancient heathen fame ?
Yet legend hoar, and voice of bard that came
Fixing my restless youth with its sweet art,
And shades of power, and those who bore a

part
In the mad deeds that set the world in flame,
So fret my memory here, — ah ! is it blame? —
That from my eyes the tear is fain to start.
Nay, from no fount impure these drops arise ;
'Tis but that sympathy with Adam's race
Which in each brother's history reads its own.
So let the cliffs of this fair place
Be named man's tomb and splendid recora-

stone,
High hope, pride- stain'd, the course without

the prize.
Messina. February 9, 1833.



PROGRESS OF UNBELIEF. 263



PROGRESS OF UNBELIEF.

Now is the Autumn of the Tree of Life ;
Its leaves are shed upon the unthankful earth,
Which lets them whirl, a prey to the winds'

strife,
Heartless to store them for the months of

dearth.
Men close the door, and dress the cheerful

hearth,
Self-trusting still ; and in his comely gear
Of precept and of rite, a household Baal rear.

But I will out amid the sleet, and view
Each shrivelling stalk and silent-falling leaf.
Truth after truth, of choicest scent and hue,
Fades, and in fading stirs the Angels' grief,
Unanswer'd here ; for she, once pattern chief
Of faith, my Country, now gross-hearted

grown,
Waits but to burn the stem before her idol's

throne.
Ai Sea. June 23, ^833.



264 APPENDIX.

THE PRIESTLY OFFICE.

FROM ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN.

In service o'er the Mystic Feast I stand ;

I cleanse Thy victim-flock, and bring them

near
In hoHest wise, and by a bloodless rite.
O Fire of Love ! O gushing Fount of Light ;
(As best I know, who need Thy cleansing

Hand)
Dread office this, bemired souls to clear
Of their defilement, and again make bright.

Oxford. 1834.



THE MARRIED AND THE SINGLE.

A FRAGMENT FROM ST. GREGORY NAZIANZEN.

As, when the hand some mimic form would

paint,
It marks its purpose first in shadows lamt,
And next, its store of varied hues applies,
Till outlines fade, and the full limbs arise ;



THE MARRIED AND THE SINGLE. 265

So in the earlier school of sacred lore
The Virgin-life no claim of honor bore,
While in Religion's youth the Law held sway,
And traced in symbols dim that better way.
But, when the Christ came by a Virgin-
birth,—
His radiant passage from high heaven to

earth, —
And, spurning father for His mortal state,
Did Eve and all her daughters consecrate.
Solved fleshly laws, and in the letter's place
Gave us the Spirit and the Word of Grace,
Then shone the glorious Celibate at length,
Robed in the dazzling lightnings of its strength,
Surpassing spells of earth and marriage vow,
As soul the body, heaven this world below.
The eternal peace of saints life's troubled span.
And the high throne of God, the haunts of

man.
So now there circles round the King of Light
A heaven on earth, a blameless court and


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