POEMS
BY WALTER R. CASSELS
POEMS
BY
WALTER R. CASSELS
LONDON
1856
CONTENTS.
MABEL
HEBE
SPRING
THE BITTERN
GONE
BEATRICE DI TENDA
SERENADE
THE EAGLE
WHITHER?
THE MORNING STAR
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
THE DARK RIVER
WYTHAM WOODS
THE STAR IN THE EAST
UNDER THE SEA
WIND
A CHALLENGE
AT PARTING
A WITHERED ROSE-BUD
DE PROFUNDIS
THE MOTHER
SONNET--DATUR HORA QUIETI
SEA MARGINS
SONG--"LOVE TOOK ME SOFTLY BY THE HAND"
THE BELL
LLEWELLYN
A SHELL
THE RAVEN
SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON
THE PASSAGE-BIRDS
MEMNON
A CONCEIT
THE LAND'S END
THE OLDEN TIME
FATHER AND SON
ORION
THE GOLDEN WATER
YEARS AGO
VULCAN
SONG--"THE DAYS ARE PAST"
GUY OF WARWICK
AT EVENTIDE
A DIRGE
TO MY DREAM-LOVE
A NIGHT SCENE
SONNET--"O CLOUD SO GOLDEN"
FLOATING DOWN THE RIVER
ORPHEUS
THE SCULPTOR
M A B E L,
A Sketch.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
ORAN, _a Speculative Philosopher._
MABEL, _his Wife._
HER FATHER.
MAURICE, }
ROGER, } _her brothers._
MABEL.
SCENE I--_A Study. Books, pictures, and sculpture
about the room, interspersed with chemical and other
instruments, globes, &c.; a singular blending of science
with art, indicating a delicate and speculative organization
in the arranger_.
ORAN, MAURICE, _and_ ROGER.
ORAN.
Well, well! and so ye deem I love her not,
Ye and the world that love so passing well?--
That still I trifle with her bright young life,
As the wind plays with some frail water-bell,
Wafting it wantonly about the sky,
Till at some harsher breath it breaks and dies?
MAURICE.
Nay, not thus far would our reflections go.
Friendship paints not with the foul brush of Conscience!
But thou, a man of dark and mystic aims,
Tracking out Science through forbidden ways,
Leaving the light and trodden paths to grope
'Mid fearful speculations and wild dreams,
May'st hunt thy Will-o'-the-wisp until thou lead'st
Our sister, all unwitting, to her death.
ROGER.
That shalt thou answer unto us. Thy life
Shall be to her life like the sun and shade,
Lost in one setting.
ORAN.
Ay! thou sayest well--
Thou sayest well. How oft a random shaft
Striketh King Truth betwixt the armour-joints!--
One life, one sun, one setting for us both.
Which way, then, tend your fears? What certain aim
Have all these strokes you level at my ways?
ROGER.
We say that you, against all light received,
Against all laws of prudence and of love,
Practise dark magic on our sister's soul--
That by strange motions, incantations, spells,
So work you on her spirit that strange sleep,
Sombre as Death's dark shadow, presently
Steals o'er her fragile body, dulls her sense,
And wraps her wholly in its chill embrace;
That thus, spell-bound, lost to the living world,
She lies till thou again unwind her chain,
And wak'st her feebly to this life of earth.
Thus dost thou peril her, thou blinded man!
Sett'st her dear life against thy moonstruck thought,
And slay'st thy dove on Folly's altar-steps.
MAURICE.
Ay! if you loved her, would your eyes have miss'd
The moonish faintness that o'erlaps her now,
Melting the fresh, full, ruddy glow of health
To loveliness most heavenly, yet most sad?
Her cheeks, where youth once summer'd into roses,
Glow now with faint exotic loveliness,
Not native to this harsh and gusty earth;
And from her large dark eyes there seems to gaze
Some angel with mute, melancholy looks,
As from a casement at this jarring world.
ORAN.
Ha! then you too have seen it; it is not,
O Heaven!--is not delusion, this fond dream,
But even now it works, works bliss for her.
Proceed, Sir ... you were saying ... Sir, I list ...
That in her eyes you saw angelic fire,
Pure from the dross, the dimming clouds of earth,
Deem'd now her frame ethereal, unakin
To earth's clay-moulded fabrics--such, perchance,
As entering heaven, might have left its dust
At the bright folding portals, sandal-like,
And thence, repassing in seraphic trance,
Still left unclaim'd the vesture at the gate!
ROGER.
You glory in her weakness! 'Tis too much--
Rash man, beware, a bitter end will come.
MAURICE.
I fain would think that study hath o'erwrought
Your heated brain to this short fever fit,
That soon may pass and leave your vision clear.
In truth, I note strange changes in your mien--
A wandering glance, quick, restless eagerness,
Rapt snatches of deep thought, wherein the mind
Seems cleaving heaven with wild extatic wings:
Your cheeks are pale, and all your nervous frame
Thrills 'neath some strange enthusiastic touch.
Lay by your books awhile, and breathe again,
As in those days gone by, the country air,
The sweet, calm country air, where perfume floats
Like love that finds no heart so godlike large
Can clasp it wholly in its one embrace,
But overflows creation with its bliss.
Thus shall you quickly exorcise this madness,
And cleanse your brain of these pernicious dreams.
ORAN.
This madness! I bethink me of the past,
Of all the great and noble who have toil'd
Amid the deep dark mines of burning thought,
Wearing out life to quarry forth the Truth;
Of all the seers and watchers, early and late
Waiting with eager blood-hot eyes the light
Rising afar in some untrodden East,
Full of divine and precious influence,
Calling, like Mezzuin from his minaret,
The thankless world to worship and be glad;
Of all the patient thinkers of the earth
Who talk'd with Wisdom like familiar friends,
Until their voices unaccustom'd grew,
And men stared blankly at them as they pass'd:
I do bethink me of them all, and know
How each walk'd through his labyrinth of scorn,
And was accounted mad before all men.
But patience!--Winter bears within its breast
The nascent seeds of golden harvest-time.
This only shall I tell you of my ways--
Straying, now here, now there, 'mid science' wealth,
I have discover'd a vast hidden power--
A power that perfected shall surely work
Great revolution in all human laws,--
Where stop its courses I as yet know not;
'Tis to me like the sun, that all the day
Shines godlike in my vision, and, at night,
Though darkness hide its brightness, still, I feel,
Shines on in glory over other spheres;
It is a power beneficent and good,
That grants to spirit infinite control
Over all matter, and that frees the soul
From its flesh shackles, and its sensuous means.
What else its influences, or for health,
For happiness, or blessing, I say not--
Save that such glimpses of vast powers unknown
Dawn on my wondering mind, that like a man
Standing upon some giddy pinnacle,
With a whole world seen faint and small below,
I close mine eyes for very fear and joy.
To her, my Mabel, do I bear in love
Some first-fruits of my finding--make her rich,
That, gazing through her eyes, I may behold
How sweet is heaven, how dear is happiness.
This is the sum of that I work on her;
Then, though I thank you for your good intent,
Leave me untroubled to my life of thought,
Leave her all trustful in the arms of love.
ROGER.
You love her not, false man! your heart and soul
Are steep'd in science till not e'en the heel,
Achilles-like, is vulnerable left.
Ay! wear thus feeling's semblance as you will,
Pale visionary! no more shall I pause,
But with strong hand arrest your mad career!
Soon we return arm'd with a father's power,
To snatch our sister from your fearful arts.
MAURICE.
Oh! if you love her, Sir, as once you did--
If yet upon the dial of your life
Her sun mark out the short sweet hours of joy,
And all too swiftly on the shadows glide--
If yet you prize the loving heart you hold,
From this most mad delusion waken up,
That blindly blights her whom it seeks to bless;
Cease your Utopian and unsafe essays,
And rather turn your studious care to call
The fading roses back into her cheeks,
And shed health's gladness on her feeble frame;
Reflect whilst yet you may, lest late Remorse
Stalk, ghost-like, through the chambers of your soul,
Haunting their gloomy void for evermore.
[_Exeunt Maurice and Roger_.
SCENE II.--_The Same_.
ORAN.
ORAN.
Not love her! O my God! thou knowest me--
Thou, looking through me as the sun at noon
That searches through the being of the world--
Thou setting life against thy glory light,
As men hold up a crystal 'gainst the sun,
Making its frame as nothing in the blaze!
Lo! my heart was like a chaotic world,
Still, silent, 'mid the dreary waste of time.
Man there was not in all its desert bounds,
But hoary ruins of past wondrous things,
Old unbeliefs, fierce doubts, unsightly dreams,
That wearing out their wild hot-breathing life,
Wearily stretch'd their writhing shapes to die;
Then came she moving o'er my awe-hush'd soul,
Like God's own Spirit over earth's void waters,
And there arose order and life through all.
She was my sun, set high to rule the day,
And make my world all bright and beautiful;
She was my moon, amid the stilly night
Subduing darkness with her quiet smiles,
And stealing softly through my anxious dreams,
A sweet-soul'd hostage for departed day;
She was my summer, clothing all my life
With fragrant blossoms of delight and joy.
[_A pause_.
Not love her! 'Tis as yesterday the time
When first my love stole fainting to her ear,
In deep scarce-worded murmurs of desire.
'Twas evening, and above the weary land
Silence lay dreaming in a golden hush;
The summer's sunset yellow'd in the wheat,
And the ripe year, with harvest promise full,
Slept on the wavy slopes and verdant leas,
Like one who through long hours of toil at last
Sees the glad work accomplish'd, and in peace
Flings him along the meadows to repose;
Below, the bells of even faintly chimed,
And sent their hymnal music up the breeze
To where I stood, half-praying, by her side.
Then all my words and thoughts that came and went,
Waving about the secret of my love,
Like billows plashing on a silent shore,
All at one gush flow'd from me o'er her heart,
And broke the banks of silence; then my love
Sank through her liquid eyes to read her soul,
Like diver that through waving water-floods
Seeketh the priceless pearl that lies below,
And there found life--found joy for evermore:
It is as yesterday that time to me,--
Sweet time, when love entwines the locks of life
With fragrant blossoms, like a one-hour's bride,
And claspeth summer with soft pleading arms,
That she, though ne'er so eager to be gone,
Still tarries smiling for a last embrace,
And drops her hoarded flowers upon the way:
It is as yesterday--my love the same--
The love that led me through all heavy tasks,
All lonely watchings by the midnight lamp,
To win the fame that still might shine on her;
And e'en--how dear the thought!--this wondrous power,
This godlike influence which has dawn'd on me,
Thus from my love takes colouring and aim!
Not love her! Well, well, I'll forget the word--
The sun shines on, though blind eyes see it not.
[_A pause_.
It cannot be--this aim so deeply--weigh'd,
So long and calmly sifted, cannot fail.
O wondrous power! great mystery of life!
Reserved for me of all the sons of men;
Fruit ripening high upon the wall of heaven
For me to pluck with eager, trembling hands,
And press its vintage out for thirsting worlds
More blessed still that into her sweet cup
First may I pour the clearest of the wine--
For her--for her--ah, yes! for her supreme,
I struggle onward through this blinding light,
E'en at whose dazzling threshold I might stand,
Pale, trembling, like a terror-smitten soul,
Waiting bewilder'd at the gate of heaven.
Yet once again let me the plan review,
Searching within my soul of souls each part,
That doubt or danger, lurking there, may thus
By love's keen-scented instincts hunted be.--
[_A long pause_.
Yes! it is so--this deep magnetic sleep,
That from my being passes upon her,
Bindeth the body close in deepest
