Hesperus Part 18

I'm weary of all this watching, Aweary of life and thought; For there's little hope in the distance, And for peace--I know it not!

Oh, why must we think and shudder, And shudder and think again?

When life's but a dance of shadows Haunting a barren plain!

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INTO THE SILENT LAND.

I.

"Oh for a pen of light, a tongue of fire, That every word might burn in living flame Upon the age's brow, and leave one name Engraven on the future! One desire Fills every nook and cranny of my heart; One hope--one sorrow--one beloved aim!

She whose pure life was of my life a part, As light is of the day, could she inspire My unmelodious muse, or tune the lyre To diapasons worthy of the theme, How would her joy put on its robes of light, And nestle in my bosom once again, As when life, like an Oriental dream, Fanned by Arabian airs, glode down the stream To music whose remembrance is a pain.

The foot of time might trample on my strain, But could not quench its essence. There was might, And majesty, and greatness in the love She blest me with--a blessing without stain, And that was earthly; since her spirit-sight Looked through the veil, and learned love's true delight, Which sainted ministrants alone can prove Who taste the waters of eternal love: I pause to think how wonderful has grown The love that was to me so wondrous here!

Chained as I am to this terrestrial sphere, Groping my way through darkness, and alone,

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Like a blind eaglet soaring towards the sun, How would her full experience lift and cheer The heart that never feels its duty done, And with a girdle of pure light enzone My flowery world of thought, and make it all her own."

Thus mused the Minstrel, for his heart was sad.

Death had bereaved him of his bride, while youth, And looming years of future trust and truth, Knit them together, till their souls were clad With joy ineffable. Love's great High Priest Sacrificed in their hearts to Him that doeth All things well; and such rare, perpetual feast Of love and truth no mortals ever had, To keep their memories green, their lives serene and glad,

He sat again within the quiet room, Where Death had snapped one golden thread of life, And the pale hand of Sickness, sorrow-rife, Robbed the plump cheek of childhood of its bloom; Where she, another Philomena, moved Like a fond Charity--the coming wife Ordained to crown his being: And he loved.

The future rose before him, joy and gloom; For where the sunlight shone, there waved the sable plume.

And yet he failed not, for the coming pain; The coming bliss would counterbalance all.

The sight prophetic that perceived the pall, Looked far beyond for the celestial gain.

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They do not truly love who cannot yield The mortal up at the Immortal's call, Or fail to triumph for the soul that's sealed.

His mind was strung to one harmonious strain: To give when G.o.d should ask, and not resign in vain.

Love was to him life's chiefest victory; He knew no greater, and he sought no less.

Like a green isle surrounded by the sea That gives it health and vigour, so was he The centre of love's sphere of perfectness; He breathed its heavenly atmosphere; the key That opened every chamber in love's court Was in his hand; love's mystery was his sport, He knelt within love's fane and wors.h.i.+pped there-- But not alone, for one was by his side Whose love refined his being, filled the air Of life's irradiated sky with light, As the sun floods the heavens with a tide Of renovating freshness, as the night Is mellowed by the ample moon.

And hoping for the recompense That would be theirs in life's approaching noon, They built on hope's high eminence Their airy palaces, whose magnificence Surpa.s.sed the dreams that fancy drew, So fair the promised land that lay within their view.

And here they lived; just within reach of heaven.

They could put forth their hands and touch the skies That brooded o'er the walls of chrysolite, The airy minarets, and golden domes

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Of their new home, by Love, the Maker, given, Steeped in his brightest dyes.

All nature opened up her ponderous tomes, Whereby they had new knowledge and new sight, Learned greater truths, and saw the paths of light, Mosaic-paven, which to Duty led.

And there were secrets written overhead, In burning hieroglyphs of thought, From which they gleaned such lessons as are taught Only to those whom heaven, in graciousness, Lifts in her arms with a divine caress.

Earth, like a joyous maiden whose pure soul Is filled with sudden ecstacy, became A fruitful Eden; and the golden bowl That held their elixir of life was filled To overflowing with the rarest draught Ever by G.o.ds or men in rapture quaffed; Till from the altar of their hearts love's flame Pa.s.sed through the veins of the world, and thrilled The soul of the rejoicing universe, Which became theirs, and like true neophytes They drained the sweet nepenthe, and love's rites Wiped from their hearts all trace of the primeval curse.

The happy months rolled on; each wedded day A bridal; and each calm and holy eve Strewed with rare blessings all the sunny way Through which they pa.s.sed, with so divine a joy That in his brain would meditation weave Love's roses into garlands of sweet song, To deck the brow of his devoted wife.

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In this their El Dorado, no alloy Mixed with the coinage of their wedded life; The workmen in the mint an honest throng.

No wonder, then, that with go fine a bliss Informing every fibre of his brain, His thoughts begat impressions such as this; Linking their lives together with a chain Of melody as rare as some divine refrain:

Like dew to the thirsty flower, Like sweets to the hungry bee, Is love's divinest dower, Its tenderness and power, To thee, dear Wife! to thee.

Like light to the darkened spirit, Like oil to the turbid sea, Like truthful words to merit, Are the blessings I inherit With thee, dear Wife! with thee.

Afar in the distant ages, Soul-ransomed, and spirit-free, I'll read all being's pages, Unread by mortal sages, With thee, dear Wife! with thee.

None but the happy heart could carol thus; A feather stolen from Devotion's wing, To keep as a memento of the time When earth met heaven, in life's duteous And prayerful journey towards the shadowy clime;

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Ere they descended from their height sublime, Where at Love's well-filled table, banqueting, They sat, and watched the first glad year, Earthlike, revolving round the sun Of their true life. Within that sphere Was the new Eden. One by one The precious moments dropped like golden sands, And formed the solid hours. No perilous strands Delayed life's blissful current, as it sped Through flowery realms with blue skies overhead, To songs and laughter musically sweet, As if all sorrow had forever fled; And idylls, sung with cheerful tone, Haunted the calm, enchanted zone That hemmed them in, Where, like a stately queen, Sate Peace, beatified, serene, The guardian, heaven-sent, of this their fair demesne:

LOVE'S ANNIVERSARY.

Like a bold, adventurous swain, Just a year ago to-day, I launched my bark on a radiant main, And Hymen led the way: "Breakers ahead!" he cried, As he sought to overwhelm My daring craft in the shrieking tide, But Love, like a pilot bold and tried, Sat, watchful, at the helm.

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And we pa.s.sed the treacherous shoals, Where many a hope lay dead, And splendid wrecks were piled, like the ghouls Of joys forever fled.

Once safely over these, We sped by a fairy realm, Across the bluest and calmest seas That were ever kissed by a truant breeze, With Love still at the helm.

We sailed by sweet, odorous isles, Where the flowers and trees were one; Through lakes that vied with the golden smiles Of heaven's unclouded sun: Still speeds our merry bark, Threading life's peaceful realm, And 'tis ever morn with our marriage-lark, For the Pilot-Love of our safety-ark Stands, watchful, at the helm.

II.

A beautiful land is the Land of Dreams, Green hills and valleys, and deep lagoons, Swift-rus.h.i.+ng torrents and gentle streams, Gla.s.sing a myriad silver moons; Mirror-like lakelets with lovely isles, And verdurous headlands looking down On the Neread shapes, whose smiles Were worth the price of a peaceful crown.

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We clutch at the silvery bars Flung from the motionless stars, And climb far into s.p.a.ce, Defying the race Who ride in aerial cars.

We take up the harp of the mind, And finger its delicate strings; The notes, soft and light As a moonbeam's flight, Departing on viewless wings.

Afar in some fanciful bower, Some region of exquisite calm, Where the starlight falls in a gleaming shower, We sink to repose On our couch of rose, Inhaling no mortal balm.

The worlds are no longer unknown, We pa.s.s through the uttermost sky, Our eyelids are kissed By a gentle mist, And we feel the tone Of a calmer zone, As if heaven were wondrous nigh.

A fanciful land is the Land of Dreams, Where earth and heaven are clasping hands; No heaven--no earth, But one wide, new birth, Where Beauty and Goodness, and human worth, Make earth of heaven and heaven of earth; And angels are walking on golden strands.

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