Chapter VI: Preface: To a Lady's Album

An Album?--'Tis a pretty book I wis,
Bound up in cow-skin--or sometimes in calf,
All tool'd and gilt--where every pert-eyed miss,
Her pretty pouting lips (too ripe by half),
Hangs o'er the snow-white page--then steals a laugh,
Something between a simper and a smile;--
"Law, I can't write!--Ridiculous, to spoil
I have no notion----Will an extract do
From Moore or Byron?" "No, write something new."

An Album?--'Tis a wide waste blank--a page
All bright and glorious, like the morn of life,
Not darken'd with rude blots;--no dim presage
Scrawl'd o'er the bliss-like future,--where no knife,
Like eating care, obliterates.--The strife,
The agony, those hours shall know, nor trace,
Nor track, steals o'er their smooth, unruffled face.
If joy or woe those opening leaves shall bring,
Who shall unfold their dim foretokening?

And would'st thou have me in that mirror look,
Shadowing the first page in thy destiny,
Or weave a frontlet to Fate's Album-book?
It should be joyous were mine Fate's decree.
Like opera-overtures, the melody
I know the story should foretoken, telling
Of love, hope, joy, and all that sort of thing;
Or, like the pictures on a raree-show,
Blazon the matchless wonders hid below.

But I'm no prophet!--what these pages may
Or may not gather, hard to say methinks.
'Tis somewhat strange, e'en for this marvellous day,
Writing a preface to blank leaves,--a sphynx
'Twould puzzle to undo, like Hymen's links!
The paper's pretty, and a pretty book:
So far seems certain. What may next be shook
From Fate's grim bag, _n'importe_--umquhile, I trow,
Time flits, hopes bud, and wither ere they blow.

When closed the last page of this history,
If joy or sorrow on that morn shall rise,
What I may then, or thou shalt surely be
I dare not mutter with articulate voice!
And yet I'll try a word or so (no lies,
I hate them); 'tis irrevocable fate
I now unfold. Listen, as though there sate
The wizard seer thy destiny revealing;
Bright hopes, grim horror, o'er thy vision stealing!

* * * * *

"Oft shall wearied hope expire,
Bliss none other bosom knows,
Love shall scorch thee with its fire,
Maiden, ere these pages close.

"Oft shall visions warm and bright,
Glimmer on thine aching brain,
Swifter fading from thy sight,
Ne'er shall dawn those dreams again.

"Oft shall throb that wearied breast,
Pulse on pulse in anguish beating,
Oft shall sink that storm to rest,
Hope and love those wild waves meeting.

"Love and hate, and joy and fear,
Shall thy bosom oft o'erflow,
All that woman's heart may bear,
All that woman's breast may know.

"Oft shall friends thy bosom cherish'd,
Change to deeper, deadlier foes.
Love shall die and hope have perish'd,
Maiden, ere these pages close!"

TO ----

We have met and we have parted,
Meet it were that love should die;
Teach the winds, thou fond false-hearted,
Teach the light wave constancy!
We have loved as we shall never
Dare on earth to love again!
Hearts thus twined, when they shall sever,
Wear no more love's bootless chain.

Tell the waves to calm their motion,
Tell the wind thy power to flee,
Bid the chafed and restless ocean
Sleep, aye, sleep unchangeably.
Will the lash'd wave cease its wailing?
Will the moaning billow rest?
Then may Hope with joys unfailing,
Fled like mine, appease thy breast.

STANZAS.

"Lightly o'er the moon-lit sea
Bounds my lover's bark to me;
The breeze hath woo'd the fluttering sail,
Fast flies the prow from the wanton gale."
The lady sung.--'Twas the lone sea-mew
O'er the waters wail'd, as he wistfully flew.

"Swiftly through the curling foam,
Waft, ye winds, my true love home:
I hear not yet the dripping oar,
The surge uncleft yet greets the shore."
The lady gazed.--'Twas the rushing blast,
Like some spirit of might, on the waters pass'd!

Darkly o'er the troubled deep,
Ruder winds the billows sweep;
The lady hath left her lattice bower,--
"Why tarries my love till the midnight hour?"
Swift answer came.--'Twas a shuddering moan,
As her lover's cold corse at her feet was thrown!

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.[J]

Forgotten so soon
Are thy vows when we parted,
Have other links bound thee,
Thou fickle false-hearted?
Go fling to the winds thy last tenderest vow,
They are not so changing, so reckless as thou.

Can the tear on thy cheek,
The warm gush from thy heart,
So soon dry their torrent?
So quickly depart?
Like dew on the flower, like the web when 'tis broken,--
Oh frailer than these, woman's vows when they're spoken.

And was it for this,
In my heart's holiest shrine,
No memory was hidden,
No image but thine?
And I deem'd thee some hallow'd, some heaven-given thing,
Entwined round my bosom for ever to cling.

I had perill'd my all
On that treacherous bark,
A woman's fond love;--
When the billows grew dark,
The bright sea was ruffled, the loud storm rush'd on,
My hopes are all wreck'd, and that light bark is gone.

Go, faithless, and weep!
For I scorn thy words now;
Yet no tears thou wilt shed
Can heal one broken vow;
No weeping can cleanse that one foul perjured stain,
Or quench the keen fire that now scorches my brain.

Yet stay, false one, stay;
There's a worm in thy breast,
A gloom on thy soul
Where no sunshine shall rest;
To which e'en the agony thou hast made mine
Is blessing and bliss when compared but with thine.

FOOTNOTE:

[J] This song, and one from the "Traditions of Lancashire," "They bade me sing, they bade me smile," were set to music by Mr. Charles Smith, author of "Hohenlinden" and other popular songs. The stanzas immediately following were also set by him as a glee. Cramer, Addison, & Co. 201 Regent Street.

THE FAIRIES' SONG.

Merry, merry elves we be,
O'er the bright and bounding sea,
Dancing merrily.
We glide to the shore in our fairy bark,
When the moon looks out on high,
And the waves twinkle round us in many a spark,
Like radiant melody.
We dance to the sound of the calm cold billow,
Ere it sleeps on the sand, ere it dies on its pillow.

Merry, merry elves we be,
Under the greenwood tree,
Dancing merrily.
And the moon through yon white and fleecy cloud,
Pale, silent, and softly creeps,
Like a spectre clad in a silvery shroud,
While nature quietly sleeps.
We merrily trip it with twinkling feet,
As the leaves rustle o'er us in melody sweet.
Away, away,
At break of day,
For night is the fairies' holiday.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.[K]

Fare thee well! the dream is o'er;
Loved one fare thee well!
Tears and vows deceive no more,
When broken every spell.

Stars that fade in morning light,
Suns that set shall rise;
But no dawn illumes the night,
When Hope's last glimmer dies!

Oh! lay me where the willows weep,
On some dreary shore;
Calm shall be that colder sleep,
Life's dark vision o'er.

Though earthly joys for ever fled,
Yet mercy whispers nigh,
Immortal life beyond the dead,
And bliss beyond the sky.

FOOTNOTE:

[K] These stanzas have been set to a Spanish air by T. Ashworth. D'Almaine & Co., Soho Square.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

On yon dark bosom'd mountain
The sunbeams are glancing,
On lake and on fountain,
The light ray is dancing.
But yon mountain is dark, though the sunbeams are bright,
And yon fountain is cold, though 'tis quivering with light.

So one bosom with sadness
Feels dark and opprest,
While around, mirth and gladness
Illumine each breast.
And the smiles that to others with rapture may glow,
Leave that bosom alone to its darkness and woe.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

I've seen the smile on woman's cheek,
The tear in woman's eye;
But as I gazed, that smile grew dim,
That liquid fount was dry.

Oh, I have heard her say she loved,
And kiss'd the plighted token:--
But I have lived to feel how false
What woman's lip hath spoken!

Yes, lighter than the lightest breath
That skims the morning air
Is woman's vow, that binds the heart
In witchery or despair!

How she hath wrung this bleeding breast,
I may not, dare not tell!
I only know that I have loved
Too fondly, and too well.

STANZAS.

Say, what is Love?--a bubble
On life's dull current fleeting,
A thousand hues and visions bright
On its frail surface meeting;
It breaks, and where that vision fair?
Ocean's dark depth may answer, Where?

Say what is Love?--'tis light
On life's dark billows thrown;
Oh, glorious the first glance
That on those waters shone!
'Tis gone,--those waves, illum'd no more,
Roll darkly on life's desert shore.

Say what is Love?--a glimpse,
Life's stormy clouds between,
Of that bright heaven, where all
Is cloudless and serene;
A look, ere night and darkness come,
Beyond the terrors of the tomb!

Come all whose blighted bosom,
Love's cruel pangs deceive,
Say what shall be the garland
For lovers' brows to weave?
A lone leaf on a blasted tree,
This, this Love's coronal shall be!

SONG.

The following lines were written to the air No. 4, in the 5th book of Mendelsohn's "Lieder ohne Woerte."

Oh, say not, lady,
That ought could ever
This fond heart sever
From love and thee
Go, bid the billow
Now calm its motion,
The restless ocean
Rest endlessly!

Should'st thou deceive me,--
All earthly blessing,
Not worth possessing,--
Away I'd flee.
And far from home, love--
My lost hopes mourning--
Nor thence returning,--
I'd pray for thee!

And though a stranger
To earthly gladness,
There is a sadness
More glad than mirth,--

The joy of sorrow;
The sweetest pleasure,
A tear-bought treasure
Of heavenly birth!

Though all around me
Were darkness veiling,
Yet light unfailing
In death shall rise!
Though day departeth,
Nor cloud nor sorrow
Shall dim that morrow
In yonder skies!

THE FRIEND.

There is a friend, whose love
Is closer than a brother's,--
Tender, endearing,--'tis above
E'en fondness like a mother's:--
She may forget her suckling's cry,
His ear attends the feeblest sigh.

On Him thy panting breast,
By care and anguish riven,
Bleeding and torn, hath found its rest,
From other refuge driven:--
And earth, with all its joys and fears,
Hath ceased to bring or smiles or tears.

Morn's dew-enamell'd flowers,
The cloud through azure sweeping,
Their brightness owe to sadder hours,
Their calm, to storms and weeping.--
That Friend shall thus each tear illume,
To forms of glory shape that gloom.

Eve's sapphire cloud hath been
Dark as the brow of sorrow;
Those dew pearls wreath'd in emerald green,
Once wept a coming morrow:--
But glory sprang o'er earth and sky,
And all was light and ecstacy.

Yon star upon the brow
Of night's grey coronet,
Morn's radiant blush, eve's ruddy glow,
Had yon bright sun ne'er set,
Were hidden still from mortal sight,
Lost in impenetrable light.

Then should afflictions come,
Dark as the shroud of even,
A thousand glories glitter from
The burning arch of heaven!
Though earth be wrapt in doubt and gloom,
New splendours dawn o'er daylight's tomb.

And who that azure hung
With lamps of living fire?
Who, when the hosts of morning sung,
First listen'd to their quire?
The Man of Sorrows mercy sent,--
In heav'n the GOD!--the Omnipotent!

HE is that friend, whose love
Nor life nor death shall sever!
Eternal as yon throne above,
Unchanged, endures for ever.
What would'st thou more, frail fabric of the dust;
OMNIPOTENCE thy Shield!--thy Refuge!--Trust!

LINES TO A LADY

WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD NEVER SEEN.

What though thy form I ne'er beheld,
Yet fancy oft would trace
Expression, features, look, with all
Their witchery or grace.

What though thy voice were never heard,
I felt its melting tone,
That came like some mysterious spell,
Unbidden and alone!

I saw thee in the winged beam,
First-born of morning light;
In darkness oft I saw thee still,
A vision of the night.

And though unheard, unseen,--thy name
The same sweet image brings,
And fancy o'er the mimic scene,
Her own bright halo flings.

Oh who shall tell the wondrous glimpse
Imagination threw,
As though past, present, and to come
Were open to her view!

As though the hidden sense had now,
From earthly dross refin'd,
Pierc'd this material and left
Mortality behind!

And is not this a ray that breaks,
With unquench'd potency,
Forth from the Omnipotent,--a light
From his omniscient eye?

A spark from that eternal mind,
First breath'd into our breast;
An image of the Infinite,
On finite pow'rs impress'd.

And though debas'd, degraded, dim,
From heav'n's own light they shine,
Imagination, fancy, thought,
Their origin divine!

THE BIRCH

ON THE WORCESTERSHIRE BEACON, GREAT MALVERN.

It stood alone on the green hill side,
That fairy birchen tree,
Its yellow leaves in the autumn breeze
Were flutt'ring heavily.

The early frosts brought those pale leaves down,
Ere the storms of winter came;
And stripp'd and bare stood my birchen tree,
But a wreck to tell its name.

I pass'd the place when the streams were still,
When the earth was chang'd to stone,
On the leafless boughs a hoary show'r,
As a spell of heav'n was thrown.

The glistening sprays by the wind were stirr'd,
Like a banner gently furl'd;
It seem'd, in its pure and peerless grace,
A gift from another world.

And even thus in our inner life,
When the early frosts are come,
When the greenness has pass'd from life away,
And the music of earth is dumb;

'Tis then that the light and hope of heav'n,
O'er the lonely heart are flung,
And our spirit knows a holier joy
Than that to which erst it clung.

And year by year is the type renew'd,
That our wayward hearts may learn,
There is peace for the stripp'd and wearied ones,
Who in faith to their Father turn.

1841.

ASTROLOGY.

'Tis said that in the burning stars
The fate of man is writ:
Yet quail not, Christian, at the sign;
By LOVE those lamps are lit.

1848.

THE FIRST REVELATION.

Suggested by the story of a child, whose father, an educated man, but an infidel, if not an atheist, had not allowed him to receive any religious culture. Being one day reproved by a friend for using profane language, on the ground that it was displeasing to GOD, he enquired who was meant. He instantly apprehended with delight all that was told him of the nature and attributes of the Supreme Being, as if the idea had been latent in his mind, until thus called forth into recognised existence.

Shadows o'er the infant mind,
Floating dimly undefin'd
Like a picture scarce design'd.

Melody but half express'd,
Inarticulate at best,
Haunting ever that young breast.

But the magic word is spoken,
And the shades of night are broken,
And by that same lustrous token.

"GOD THE MIGHTY ONE," now near,
Memnon music on the ear
Falls articulate and clear.

And the day of life begun
By the newly risen sun,
In that light its paths are run.

Even so, when GOD reveal'd
To the eye by Death unseal'd,
Shall completed being yield,

Will the shadows which now lie,
As dim portents to the eye,
From the spirit's vision fly.

And the mystic sounds and sweet,
Which the untaught ear oft greet,
Shall a lucid tale repeat.

And mysterious spirit-life--
Past its agony and strife--
Be with seven-fold Glory rife.

1848.

AN EVENING HYMN.

Faint falls the twilight dim,
Woods, waves, their ev'ning hymn
Murmur to Thee.
One pale star ocean seeks,
One waveless glimmer breaks
O'er that lone sea.

Softly the passing gale,
Sighs like love's parting tale,
Whispers not words.
Clouds come not o'er that night,
Stars burn with purer light
Than earth affords.

Come, Night, around this breast,
Thy soothing dreamy rest
Waft o'er my soul;
While thoughts of heav'nly birth,
Untouch'd by aught of earth,
Undimm'd may roll.--

Then like yon star may we
Meet death's calm silent sea,
Setting to rise.
Bright'ning still while we sink,
On that dread ocean brink,
To other skies!

THE DUKE OF MANTUA.

A Tragedy.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN

ANDREA, _Duke of Mantua_.

RIDOLFI, _the Duke's Foster-brother_.

CARLOS, _in love with Hermione_.

BERTRAND, _Friend to Carlos_.

FABIAN, } _Pages attending on the Duke_.
SYLVIO, }

GIULIO, _a Minstrel attending on Carlos_.

STEPHANO, } _Servants to Ridolfi_.
ROLAND, }

_Priest_.

_Grave-Digger_.

_Citizens of Mantua_.

WOMEN

BEATRICE, _Duchess of Mantua_.

HERMIONE, _Cousin to Ridolfi_.

LAURA, _Sister to Ridolfi_.

ZORAYDA, _a Gipsy_.

BLANCH, _Servant to Hermione_.

_Guards, Soldiers, &c_.

_Scene--Mantua._

THE DUKE OF MANTUA.