TO J: S.

THE wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those.
That are cast in gentle mould.
And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
'Tis strange that those we lean on most,
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:

Those we love first are taken first.
God gives us love. Something to love

He lends us; but, when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone.

This is the curse of time. Alas!

In grief I am not all unlearn'd;
Once thro' mine own doors Death did pass :
One went, who never hath return'd.
He will not smile-not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Empty before us. That was he

Without whose life I had not been.
Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose whith you thro' a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wander'd far
Shot on the sudden into dark.
I knew your brother: his mute dust
I honour and his living worth:
A man more pure and bold and just
Was never born into the earth.
I have not look'd upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fall'n asleep.
Great Nature is more wise than I :/

I will not tell you not to weep.
And tho' mine own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
,,Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.

She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done to weep or not to weep.
I will not say,, God's ordinance

Of Death is blown in every wind;"
For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.
Ilis memory long will live alone

In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun,

And dwells in heaven half the night. Vain solace! Memory standing near Cast down her eyes, and in her throat Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear

Dropt on the letters as I wrote.

1 wrote I know not what. In truth, How should I soothe you anyway, Who miss the brother of your youth? Yet something I did wish to say: For he too was a friend to me;

Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both; yet it may be

That only silence suiteth best.

Words weaker than your grief would make Grief more. "Twere better I should cease Although myself could almost take

The place of him that sleeps in peace. Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase.. And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.

Nothing comes to thee new or strange Sleep full of rest from head to feet;

Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.

You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease,

Whithin this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas? It is the land that freemen till,

That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will; A land of settled government,

A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent: Where faction seldom gathers head,

But by degrees to fullness wrought, The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute

Opinion, and induce a time

When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute;

Tho' Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great

Tho' every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, And I will see before I die The palms and temples of the South.

Or old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights:

She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro' town and field
To mingle with the human race,
And part by part to men reveal'd
The fullness of her face-
Grave mother of majestic works,

From her isle-altar gazing down,
Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, King-like, wears the crown:
Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;
That her fair form may stand and shine,
Make bright our days and light our
(dreams.

Turning to scorn with lips divine

The falsehood of extremes!

LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought
From out the storied Past, and used
Within the Present, but transfused.
Thro' future time by power of thought.
True love turn'd round on fixed poles,
Love, that endures not sordid ends,
For English natures, freemen, friends,
Thy brothers and immortal souls.
But pamper not a hasty time,

Nor feed with crude imaginings
The herd, wild hearts and feeble wings,
That every sophister can lime.
Deliver not the tasks of might

To weakness, neither hide the ray From those, not blind, who wait for day, Tho' sitting girt with doubtful light. Make knowledge circle with the winds; But let her herald, Reverence, fly

years:

Before her to whatever sky
Bear seed of men and growth of minds.
Watch what main-currents draw the
Cut Prejudice against the grain:
But gentle words are always gain:
Regard the weakness of thy peers:
Nor toil for title, place, or touch

Of pension, neither count on praise:
It grows to guerdon after-days:
Nor deal in watch-words overmuch
Not clinging to some ancient saw;

Not master'd by some modern term;
Not swift nor slow to change, but firm:
And in its season bring the law;
That from Discussion's lip may

fall With Life, that, working strongly, binds Set in all lights by many minds, To close the interests of all. For nature also, cold und warm, And moist und dry, devising long, Thro' many agents making strong, Matures the individual form.

Meet is it changes should control

Our being, lest we rust in case,
We all are changed by still degrees,
All but the basis of the soul.

So let the change which comes be free
To ingroove itself with that, which flies,
And work, a joint of state, that plies
Its office, moved with sympathy.
A saying, hard to shape in act

For all the past of Time reveals
A bridal dawn of thunder-peals,
Wherever Thought hath wedded Fact.
Ev'n now we hear with inward strife
A motion toiling in the gloom -
The Spirit of the years to come
Yearning to mix himself with Life.
A slow-develop'd strength awaits

Completion in a painful school;
Phantoms of other forms of rule,
New Majesties of mighty States -
The warders of the growing hour,

But vague in vapour, hard to mark;
And round them sea and air are dark
With great contrivances of Power.
Of many changes, aptly join'd,

Is bodied forth the second whole.
Regard gradation, lest the soul
Of Discord race the rising wind;

A wind to puff your idol-fires,

And heap their ashes on the head; To shame the boast so often made, That we are wiser than our sires. Oh yet, if Nature's evil star

Drive men in manhood, as in youth, To follow flying steps of Truth Across the brazen bridge of war— If New and Old, disastrous feud,

Must ever shock, like armed foes, And this be true, till Time shall close, That Principles are rain'd in blood; Not yet the wise of heart would cease To hold his hope thro' shame and guilt, But with his hand against the hilt Would pace the troubled land, like Peace; Not less, tho' dogs of Faction bay,

Would serve his kind in deed and word, Certain, if knowledge bring the sword, That knowledge takes the sword awayWould love the gleams of good that broke From either side, nor veil his eyes: And if some dreadful need should rise Would strike, and firmly, and one stroke: To-morrow yet would reap to-day,

As we bear blossoms of the dead; Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay.

So sitting, served by man and maid,
She felt her heart grow prouder:
But ah! the more the white goose laid
It clack'd and cackled louder.
It clutter'd here, it chuckled there;
It stirr'd the old wife's mettle:
She shifted in her elbow-chair,

And hurl'd the pan and kettle.
"A quinsy choke thy cursed note!"
Then wax'd her anger stronger,

Go, take the goose, and wring her throat,
I will not bear it longer."

Then yelp'd the cur, and yawl'd the cat;
Ran Gaffer, stumbled Gammer.
The goose flew this way and flew that,
And fill'd the house with clamour.
As head and heels upon the floor
They flounder'd all together,
There strode a stranger to the door,
And it was windy weather:
He took the goose upon his arm,

He utter'd words of scorning;
So keep you cold, or keep you warm,
It is a stormy morning."

The wild wind rang from park and plain,
And round the attics rumbled,
Till all the tables danced again,

And half the chimneys tumbled.
The glass blew in, the fire blew out,
The blast was hard and harder.
Her cap blew off, her gown blew up,

And a whirlwind clear'd the larder: And while on all sides breaking loose Her household fled the danger, Quoth she, The Devil take the goose, And God forget the stranger!"

With cutting eights that day upon the pond, Where, three times slipping from the outer (edge,

I bump'd the ice into three several stars,
Fell in a doze; and half-awake I heard
The parson taking wide and wider sweeps,
Now harping on the church-commissioners,
Now hawking at Geology and schism;
Until I woke, and found him settled down
Upon the general decay of faith
Right thro' the world, at home was little
(left,

And none abroad: there was no anchor, none, To hold by." Francis, laughing, clapt his (hand

On Everard's shoulder,with,,I hold by him." "And I," quoth Everard, by the wassail(bowl."

"Why yes," I said,,,we knew your gift that (way

At college: but another which you had,
I mean of verse (for so we held it then,)
What came of that?" "You know," said
(Frank, he burnt

His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve (books"

And then to me demanding why?,,Oh, sir, He thought that nothing new was said, or (else

Something so said 'twas nothing (truth

that a

Looks freshest in the fashion of the day: God knows: he has a mint of reasons: ask. It pleased me well enough." "Nay, nay," (said Hall,

"Why take the style of those beroic times? For nature brings not back the Mastodon, Nor we those times; and why should any (man

Remodel models? these twelve books of mine

Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth, Mere chaff and draff, much better burnt." (,,But I,"

Said Francis, pick'd the eleventh from this (hearth,

And have it: keep a thing, its use will come.
I hoard it as a sugar-plum for Holmes."
He laugh'd, and 1, though sleepy, like a horse
That hears the corn-bin open, prick'd my
(ears;

For I remember'd Everard's college fame
When we were Freshmen: then at my request
He brought it; and the poet little urged,
But with some prelude of disparagement,

Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, Deep-chested music, and to this result.

MORTE D'ARTHUR.

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord,
King Arthur: then, because his wound was
(deep,

The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on a dark strait of barren land.
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:
The sequel of to-day unsolders all

The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Whereof this world holds record. Such a
(sleep
They sleep
(that we

the men I loved. I think

Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly (deeds,

Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.
I perish by this people which I made, -
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more-but let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride: for thou rememberest
(how

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
Holding the sword-and how I row'd across
And took it, and have worn it, like a king:
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In aftertime, this also shall be known:
But now delay not: take Excalibur,
And fling him far into the middle mere:
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring
(me word."

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere:
"It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus,
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm.
A little thing may harm a wounded man.
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,

Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee (word."

So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind (sang

Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, step(ping down

By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake.

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran (forth

And sparkled keen with frost against the (hilt:

For all the haft twinkled with diamond (sparks,

Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work
Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long
That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood,
This way and that dividing the swift mind,
In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd
Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd
There in the many-knotted waterflags,
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.
So strode he back slow to the wounded
(King.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: " Hast thou perform'd my mission which 1 (gave?

What is it thou hast seen? or what hast (heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag." To whom replied King Arthur, faint and (pale:

Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy (name,

Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight:
For surer sign had follow'd, either hand,
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.
This is a shameful thing for men to lie.
Yet now I charge thee, quickly go again
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me
(word."

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere; Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt,

How curiously and strangely chased, he (smote

His palms together, and he cried aloud. "And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many (men.

What good should follow this, if this were (done?

What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand
An act unprofitable, against himself?
The King is sick, and knows not what he
(does.

What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept,
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty
(kings,

Some one might show it at a joust of arms, Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the (deeps

Upon the hidden bases of the hills.' So might some old man speak in the after(time

To all the people, winning reverence. But now much honour and much fame were (lost."

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time,

And so strode back slow to the wounded (King.

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: What is it thou hast seen? or what hast (heard ?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds." To whom replied King Arthur, much in (wrath :

,,Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widow'd of the power in his eye That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou (art,

For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, In whom should meet the offices of all; Thou wouldst betray me for the precious

(hilt;