'Moreover, something is or seems, That touches me with mystic gleams, Like glimpses of forgotten dreams—

'Of something felt, like something here; Of something done, I know not where ; Such as no language may declare.'

The still voice laugh'd. 'Not with thy dreams.

Thy pain is a reality.'

'I talk,' said he, Suffice it thee

'But thou,' said I, 'hast missed thy mark, Who sought'st to wreck my mortal ark, By making all the horizon dark.

'Why not set forth, if I should do This rashness, that which might ensue With this old soul in organs new?

'Whatever crazy sorrow saith,

No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death.

"'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant; More life, and fuller, that I want.'

I ceased, and sat as one forlorn.
Then said the voice, in quiet scorn,
'Behold, it is the Sabbath morn.'

And I arose, and I released
The casement, and the light increased
With freshness in the dawning east.

Like soften'd airs that blowing steal,
When meres begin to uncongeal,
The sweet church bells began to peal.

On to God's house the people prest:
Passing the place where each must rest,
Each enter'd like a welcome guest.

One walk'd between his wife and child,
With measured footfall firm and mild,
And now and then he gravely smiled.

The prudent partner of his blood
Lean'd on him, faithful, gentle, good,
Wearing the rose of womanhood.

And in their double love secure,
The little maiden walk'd demure,
Pacing with downward eyelids pure.

These three made unity so sweet,
My frozen heart began to beat,
Remembering its ancient heat.

I blest them, and they wander'd on:
I spoke, but answer came there none :
The dull and bitter voice was gone.

A second voice was at mine ear,
A little whisper silver-clear,
A murmur, Be of better cheer.'

As from some blissful neighbourhood,
A notice faintly understood,

'I see the end, and know the good.'

A little hint to solace woe,
A hint, a whisper breathing low,
'I may not speak of what I know.'

Like an Æolian harp that wakes
No certain air, but overtakes
Far thought with music that it makes:

Such seem'd the whisper at my side:

'What is it thou knowest, sweet voice?' I cried. 'A hidden hope,' the voice replied:

So heavenly-toned, that in that hour
From out my sullen heart a power
Broke, like the rainbow from the shower,

To feel, altho' no tongue can prove,
That every cloud, that spreads above
And veileth love, itself is love.

And forth into the fields I went,
And Nature's living motion lent
The pulse of hope to discontent.

I wonder'd at the bounteous hours,
The slow result of winter showers:
You scarce could see the grass for flowers.

I wonder'd, while I paced along:
The woods were fill'd so full with song,
There seem'd no room for sense of wrong;

And all so variously wrought,

I marvell'd how the mind was brought
To anchor by one gloomy thought;

And wherefore rather I made choice
To commune with that barren voice,
Than him that said, 'Rejoice! Rejoice!

X

WAGES

GLORY of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song,
Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless

sea

Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the

wrong

Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory

she:

Give her the glory of going on, and still to be.

The wages of sin is death: if the wages of Virtue be

dust,

Would she have heart to endure for the life of the worm and the fly?

She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of

the just,

To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer

sky:

Give her the wages of going on, and not to die.

XI

THE SAILOR BOY

He rose at dawn and, fired with hope,
Shot o'er the seething harbour-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.

XII

THE VOYAGE

I

WE left behind the painted buoy
That tosses at the harbour-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 for evermore.

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.