Legends and Lyrics. Part 1
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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 tellWhere they are, our own beloved ones!”They looked up to the evening skyHalf 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 songOf the summer breeze,That gently played amongThe acacia trees.And did no warning spirit answer,Amid the silence all around;“Before the lowly village altarShe thou lovest may be found,Thou, who trustest still so blindly,Know she stands a smiling bride!Forgetting thee, she turneth kindlyTo 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 sighOf the summer breeze,So softly passing byThe acacia trees.And vainly, too, the other, lookingSmiling 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 saintlyHeeds 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 soundOf the summer breeze,That sadly played aroundThe acacia treesVERSE: 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.”“Listen! there are voices talking.”Calmly still she strove to speak,Yet her voice grew faint and trembling,And the red flushed in her cheek.“It is only the children playingBelow, now their work is done,And they laugh that their eyes are dazzledBy the rays of the setting sun.”Fainter grew her voice, and weakerAs with anxious eyes she cried,“Down the avenue of chestnuts,I can hear a horseman ride.”“It was only the deer that were feedingIn a herd on the clover grass,They were startled, and fled to the thicket,As they saw the reapers pass.”Now the night arose in silence,Birds lay in their leafy nest,And the deer couched in the forest,And the children were at rest:There was only a sound of weepingFrom watchers around a bed,But Rest to the weary spirit,Peace to the quiet Dead!VERSE: HOURS
When the bright stars came out last night,And the dew lay on the flowers,I had a vision of delight —A dream of by-gone hours.Those hours that came and fled so fast,Of pleasure or of pain,As phantoms rose from out the pastBefore my eyes again.With beating heart did I beholdA train of joyous hours,Lit with the radiant light of old,And, smiling, crowned with flowers.And some were hours of childish sorrow,A mimicry of pain,That through their tears looked for a morrowThey knew must smile again.Those hours of hope that longed for life,And wished their part begun,And ere the summons to the strife,Dreamed that the field was won.I knew the echo of their voice,The starry crowns they wore;The vision made my soul rejoiceWith the old thrill of yore.I knew the perfume of their flowers;The glorious shining raysAround these happy smiling hoursWere lit in by-gone days.Oh stay, I cried – bright visions, stay,And leave me not forlorn!But, smiling still, they passed away,Like shadows of the morn.One spirit still remained, and cried,“Thy soul shall ne’er forget!”He standeth ever by my side —The phantom called Regret!But still the spirits rose, and thereWere weary hours of pain,And anxious hours of fear and careBound by an iron chain.Dim shadows came of lonely hours,That shunned the light of day,And in the opening smile of flowersSaw only quick decay.Calm hours that sought the starry skiesFor heavenly lore were there;With folded hands and earnest eyes,I knew the hours of prayer.Stern hours that darkened the sun’s light,Heralds of coming woes,With trailing wings, before my sightFrom the dim past arose.As each dark vision passed and spokeI prayed it to depart:At each some buried sorrow wokeAnd stirred within my heart.Until these hours of pain and careLifted their tearful eyes,Spread their dark pinions in the airAnd passed into the skies.VERSE: THE TWO INTERPRETERS
“The clouds are fleeting by, father,Look in the shining west,The great white clouds sail onwardUpon the sky’s blue breast.Look at a snowy eagle,His wings are tinged with red,And a giant dolphin follows him,With a crown upon his head!”The father spake no word, but watchedThe drifting clouds roll by;He traced a misty vision tooUpon the shining sky:A shadowy form, with well-known graceOf weary love and care,Above the smiling child she held,Shook down her floating hair.“The clouds are changing now, father,Mountains rise higher and higher!And see where red and purple shipsSail in a sea of fire!”The father pressed the little handMore closely in his own,And watched a cloud-dream in the skyThat he could see alone:Bright angels carrying far awayA white form, cold and dead,Two held the feet, and two bore upThe flower-crowned, drooping head.“See, father, see! a glory floodsThe sky, and all is bright,And clouds of every hue and shadeBurn in the golden light.And now, above an azure lake,Rise battlements and towers,Where knights and ladies climb the heights,All bearing purple flowers.”The father looked, and, with a pangOf love and strange alarm,Drew close the little eager childWithin his sheltering arm;From out the clouds the mother looksWith wistful glance below,She seems to seek the treasure leftOn earth so long ago;She holds her arms out to her child,His cradle-song she sings:The last rays of the sunset gleamUpon her outspread wings.Calm twilight veils the summer sky,The shining clouds are gone;In vain the merry laughing childStill gaily prattles on;In vain the bright stars, one by one,On the blue silence start,A dreary shadow rests to-nightUpon the father’s heartVERSE: COMFORT
Hast thou o’er the clear heaven of thy soulSeen tempests roll?Hast thou watched all the hopes thou wouldst have wonFade, one by one?Wait till the clouds are past, then raise thine eyesTo bitter skies.Hast thou gone sadly through a dreary night,And found no light,No guide, no star, to cheer thee through the plain —No friend, save pain?Wait, and thy soul shall see, when most forlorn,Rise a new morn.Hast thou beneath another’s stern controlBent thy sad soul,And wasted sacred hopes and precious tears?Yet calm thy fears,For thou canst gain, even from the bitterest part,A stronger heart.Has Fate overwhelmed thee with some sudden blow?Let thy tears flow;But know when storms are past, the heavens appearMore pure, more clear;And hope, when farthest from their shining rays,For brighter days.Hast thou found life a cheat, and worn in vainIts iron chain?Has thy soul bent beneath earth’s heavy bond?Look thou beyond;If life is bitter —there for ever shineHopes more divine.Art thou alone, and does thy soul complainIt lives in vain?Not vainly does he live who can endureOh be thou sure,That he who hopes and suffers here, can earnA sure return.Hast thou found nought within thy troubled lifeSave inward strife?Hast thou found all she promised thee, Deceit,And Hope a cheat?Endure, and there shall dawn within thy breastEternal rest!VERSE: HOME AT LAST
Child, do not fear;We shall reach our home to-night,For the sky is clear,And the waters bright;And the breezes have scarcely strengthTo unfold that little cloud,That like a shroudSpreads out its fleecy lengthThen have no fear,As we cleave our silver wayThrough the waters clear.Fear not, my child!Though the waves are white and high,And the storm blows wildThrough the gloomy sky;On the edge of the western sea,See that line of golden light,Is the haven brightWhere home is awaiting thee;Where, this peril past,We shall rest from our stormy voyageIn peace at last.Be not afraid;But give me thy hand, and seeHow the waves have madeA cradle for thee.Night is come, dear, and we shall rest;So turn from the angry skies,And close thine eyes,And lay thy head on my breast:Child, do not weep;In the calm, cold, purple depthsThere we shall sleep.VERSE: UNEXPRESSED
Dwells within the soul of every ArtistMore than all his effort can express;And he knows the best remains unuttered;Sighing at what we call his success.Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell usAll the sacred mysteries of the skies:Vainly he may strive; the deepest beautyCannot be unveiled to mortal eyes.And the more devoutly that he listens,And the holier message that is sent,Still the more his soul must struggle vainly,Bowed beneath a noble discontent.No great Thinker ever lived and taught youAll the wonder that his soul received;No true Painter ever set on canvasAll the glorious vision he conceived.No Musician ever held your spiritCharmed and bound in his melodious chains,But be sure he heard, and strove to render,Feeble echoes of celestial strains.No real Poet ever wove in numbersAll his dream; but the diviner part,Hidden from all the world, spake to him onlyIn the voiceless silence of his heart.So with Love: for Love and Art unitedAre twin mysteries; different, yet the same:Poor indeed would be the love of anyWho could find its full and perfect name.Love may strive, but vain is the endeavourAll its boundless riches to enfold;Still its tenderest, truest secret lingersEver in its deepest depths untold.Things of Time have voices: speak and perish.Art and Love speak – but their words must beLike sighings of illimitable forests,And waves of an unfathomable sea.VERSE: BECAUSE
It is not because your heart is mine – mine only —Mine alone;It is not because you chose me, weak and lonely,For your own;Not because the earth is fairer, and the skiesSpread above youAre more radiant for the shining of your eyes —That I love you!It is not because the world’s perplexèd meaningGrows more clear;And the Parapets of Heaven, with angels leaning,Seem more near;And Nature sings of praise with all her voicesSince yours spoke,Since within my silent heart, that now rejoices,Love awoke!Nay, not even because your hand holds heart and life;At your willSoothing, hushing all its discord, making strifeCalm and still;Teaching Trust to fold her wings, nor ever roamFrom her nest;Teaching Love that her securest, safest homeMust be Rest.But because this human Love, though true and sweet —Yours and mine —Has been sent by Love more tender, more complete,More divine;That it leads our hearts to rest at last in Heaven,Far above you;Do I take you as a gift that God has given —– And I love you!VERSE: REST AT EVENING
When the weariness of Life is ended,And the task of our long day is done,And the props, on which our hearts depended,All have failed or broken, one by one;Evening and our Sorrow’s shadow blendedTelling us that peace is now begun.How far back will seem the sun’s first dawning,And those early mists so cold and grey!Half forgotten even the toil of morning,And the heat and burthen of the day:Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning,All alike withered and cast away.Vain will seem the impatient heart, which waitedToils that gathered but too quickly round;And the childish joy, so soon elatedAt the path we thought none else had found;And the foolish ardour, soon abatedBy the storm which cast us to the ground.Vain those pauses on the road, each seemingAs our final home and resting-place;And the leaving them, while tears were streamingOf eternal sorrow down our face;And the hands we held, fond folly dreamingThat no future could their touch efface.All will then be faded: – night will borrowStars of light to crown our perfect rest;And the dim vague memory of faint sorrowJust remain to show us all was best,Then melt into a divine to-morrow: -Oh, how poor a day to be so blest!VERSE: A RETROSPECT
From this fair point of present bliss,Where we together stand,Let me look back once more, and traceThat long and desert land,Wherein till now was cast my lot, and I could live, and thou wert not.Strange that my heart could beat, and knowAlternate joy and pain,That suns could roll from east to west,And clouds could pass in rain,And the slow hours without thee fleet, nor stay their noiseless silver feet.What had I then? a hope, that grewEach hour more bright and dear,The flush upon the eastern skiesThat showed the sun was near: -Now night has faded far away, my sun has risen, and it is day.A dim Ideal of tender graceIn my soul reigned supreme;Too noble and too sweet I thoughtTo live, save in a dream —Within thy heart to-day it lies, and looks on me from thy dear eyes.Some gentle spirit – Love I thought —Built many a shrine of pain;Though each false Idol fell to dust,The worship was not vain,But a faint radiant shadow cast back from our Love upon the Past.And Grief, too, held her vigil there;With unrelenting swayBreaking my cloudy visions down,Throwing my flowers away: -I owe to her fond care alone that I may now be all thine own.Fair Joy was there – her fluttering wingsAt times she strove to raise;Watching through long and patient nights,Listening long eager days:I know now that her heart and mine were waiting, Love, to welcome thine.Thus I can read thy name throughout,And, now her task is done,Can see that even that faded PastWas thine, belovèd one,And so rejoice my Life may be all consecrated, dear, to thee.VERSE: TRUE OR FALSE
So you think you love me, do you?Well, it may be so;But there are many ways of lovingI have learnt to know.Many ways, and but one true way,Which is very rare;And the counterfeits look brightest,Though they will not wear.Yet they ring, almost, quite truly,Last (with care) for long;But in time must break, may shiverAt a touch of wrong:Having seen what looked most realCrumble into dust;Now I chose that test and trialShould precede my trust.I have seen a love demandingTime and hope and tears,Chaining all the past, exactingBonds from future years;Mind and heart, and joy and sorrow,Claiming as its fee:That was Love of Self, and never,Never Love of me!I have seen a love forgettingAll above, beyond,Linking every dream and fancyIn a sweeter bond;Counting every hour worthless,Which was cold or free: -That, perhaps, was – Love of Pleasure,But not Love of me!I have seen a love whose patienceNever turned aside,Full of tender, fond devices;Constant, even when tried;Smallest boons were held as victories,Drops that swelled the sea:That I think was – Love of Power,But not Love of me!I have seen a love disdainingEase and pride and fame,Burning even its own white pinionsJust to feed its flame;Reigning thus, supreme, triumphant,By the soul’s decree;That was – Love of Love, I fancy,But not Love of me!I have heard – or dreamt, it may be —What Love is when true;How to test and how to try it,Is the gift of few:These few say (or did I dream it?)That true Love abidesIn these very things, but alwaysHas a soul besides.Lives among the false loves, knowingJust their peace and strife:Bears the self-same look, but alwaysHas an inner life.Only a true heart can find it,True as it is true,Only eyes as clear and tenderLook it through and through.If it dies, it will not perishBy Time’s slow decay,True Love only grows (they tell me)Stronger, day by day:Pain – has been its friend and comrade;Fate – it can defy;Only by its own sword, sometimesLove can choose to die.And its grave shall be more nobleAnd more sacred still,Than a throne, where one less worthyReigns and rules at will.Tell me then, do you dare offerThis true Love to me?.Neither you nor I can answer;We will – wait and see!VERSE: GOLDEN WORDS
Some words are played on golden strings,Which I so highly rate,I cannot bear for meaner thingsTheir sound to desecrate.For every day they are not meet,Or for a careless tone;They are for rarest, and most sweet,And noblest use alone.One word is POET: which is flungSo carelessly away,When such as you and I have sung,We hear it, day by day.Men pay it for a tender phraseSet in a cadenced rhyme:I keep it as a crown of praiseTo crown the kings of time.And LOVE: the slightest feelings, stirredBy trivial fancy, seekExpression in that golden wordThey tarnish while they speak.Nay, let the heart’s slow, rare decree,That word in reverence keepSilence herself should only beMore sacred and more deep.FOR EVER: men have grown at lengthTo use that word, to raiseSome feeble protest into strength,Or turn some tender phrase.It should be said in awe and fearBy true heart and strong will,And burn more brightly year by year,A starry witness still.HONOUR: all trifling hearts are fondOf that divine appeal,And men, upon the slightest bond,Set it as slighter seal.That word should meet a noble foeUpon a noble field,And echo – like a deadly blowTurned by a silver shield.Trust me, the worth of words is suchThey guard all noble things,And that this rash irreverent touchHas jarred some golden strings.For what the lips have lightly saidThe heart will lightly hold,And things on which we daily treadAre lightly bought and sold.The sun of every day will bleachThe costliest purple hue.And so our common daily speechDiscolours what was true.But as you keep some thoughts apartIn sacred honoured care,If in the silence of your heart,Their utterance too be rare;Then, while a thousand words repeatUnmeaning clamours all,Melodious golden echoes sweetShall answer when you call.