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I

you best,

Among the numerable-innumerable Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil
Sun, sun, and sun, thro' finite-infinite space And crocus, to put forth and brave the
In finite-infinite Time - our mortal veil

blast.
And shatter'd phantom of that infinite One, For some, descending from the sacred
Who made thee unconceivably Thyself

peak Out of His whole World-self and all in Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued all

again Live thou ! and of the grain and husk, the Their lot with ours to rove the world grape

about; And ivy-berry, choose; and still depart And some are wilder comrades, sworn tc. From death to death thro' life and life, and

seek
find

If any golden harbor be for men
Nearer and ever nearer Him, who wrought In seas of Death and sunless gulfs of
Not matter, nor the finite-infinite,

Doubt.
But this main-miracle, that thou art thou,
With power on thine own act and on the
world.

TO THE REV. W. H. BROOK

FIELD
THE HUMAN CRY

First printed in Lord Lyttleton's Memoir

(1869) prefixed to Brookfield's 'Sermons,' and HALLOWED be Thy name Halleluiah !

afterwards in the · Ballads' volume. Brook. Infinite Ideality!

field was one of the poet's college friends. Immeasurable Reality! Infinite Personality!

Brooks, for they call’d you so that knew hallowed be Thy name

- Halleluiah !

Old Brooks, who loved so well to mouth

my rhymes, We feel we are nothing - for all is Thou How oft we two have heard Saint Mary's and in Thee;

chimes ! We feel we are something that also has

How oft the Cantab supper, host and guest, come from Thee;

Would echo helpless laughter to your jest ! We know we are nothing — but Thou wilt

How oft with him we paced that walk of help us to be.

limes, Hallowed be Thy name

- Halleluiah !

Him, the lost light of those dawn-golden

times,

Who loved you well! Now both are gone
SONNETS

to rest.
You man of humorous-melancholy mark,

Dead of some inward agony -- is it so ?
PREFATORY SONNET

Our kindlier, trustier Jaques, past away!

I cannot laud this life, it looks so dark. TO 'THE NINETEENTH CENTURY'

Exiâs õvap - dream of a shadow, go

God bless you! I shall join you in a day.
Contributed to the first number of The
Nineteenth Century,' March, 1877, and after-
wards included in the ‘Ballads' volume.

MONTENEGRO
Those that of late had fleeted far and fast
To touch all shores, now leaving to the First printed in The Nineteenth Century,'
skill

March, 1877.
Of others their old craft seaworthy still,
Have charter'd this; where, mindful of the THEY rose to where their sovran eagle
past,

sails,
Our true co-mates regather round the mast; They kept their faith, their freedom, on
Of diverse tongue, but with a common will the height,

II

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Theirs was a greatness
Got from their grandsires -
Theirs that so often in

Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths

and their homes.

III

VICTOR in Drama, Victor in Romance, Cloud - weaver of phantasmal bopes and

fears, French of the French, and Lord of human

tears; Child-lover; Bard whose fame-lit laurels

glance Darkening the wreaths of all that would

advance, Beyond our strait, their claim to be thy

peers; Weird Titan by thy winter weight of years As yet unbroken, stormy voice of France ! Who dost not love our England so they

say; I know not England, France, all man to

be Will make one people ere man's race be

Bow'd the spoiler,
Bent the Scotsman,
Fell the ship-crews

Doom'd to the death.
All the field with blood of the fighters

Flow'd, from when first the great
Sun-star of morning-tide,
Lamp of the Lord God

Lord everlasting,
Glode over earth till the glorious creature

Sank to his setting. 1 I have more or less availed myself of my son's prose translation of this poem in the * Contemporary Review' (November, 1876).

2 Shields of lindenwood.

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V

VI

The welcome of war-knives
IV

Ho that was reft of his
There lay many a man

Folk and his friends that had
Marr'd by the javelin,

Fallen in conflict,
Men of the Northland

Leaving his son too
Shot over shield.

Lost in the carnage,
There was the Scotsman

Mangled to morsels,
Weary of war.

A youngster in war!

XI
We the West-Saxons,

Slender reason had
Long as the daylight

He to be glad of
Lasted, in companies

The clash

of the war-glaive Troubled the track of the host that we

Traitor and trickster bated;

And spurner of treaties Grimly with swords that were sharp from He nor had Aplaf the grindstone,

With armies so broken
Fiercely we hack'd at the flyers before us.

A reason for bragging
That they had the better

In perils of battle
Mighty the Mercian,

On places of slaughter
Hard was his hand-play,

The struggle of standards,
Sparing not any of

The rush of the javelins,
Those that with Anlaf,

The crash of the charges,
Warriors over the

The wielding of weapons -
Weltering waters

The play that they play'd with
Borne in the bark's-bosom,

The children of Edward.
Drew to this island

XII
Doom'd to the death.

Then with their nail'd prows

Parted the Norsemen, a Five young kings put asleep by the sword

Blood-redden'd relic of stroke,

Javelins over
Seven strong earls of the army of Anlaf The jarring breaker, the deep-sea billow,
Fell on the war-field, numberless numbers, Shaping their way toward Dyflen ? again,
Shipmen and Scotsmen.

Shamed in their souls.
VIII

XIII
Then the Norse leader –

Also the brethren,
Dire was his need of it,

King and Atheling,
Few were his following —

Each in his glory,
Fled to his war-ship;

Went to his own in his own West-SaxonFleeted his vessel to sea with the king in

land, it,

Glad of the war. Saving his life on the fallow flood.

Many a carcase they left to be carrion, Also the crafty one,

Many a livid one, many a sallow-skin – Constantinus,

Left for the white-tail'd eagle to tear it, Crept to his North again,

and Hoar-headed hero!

Left for the horny-nibb'd raven to rend it,

and

VII

XIV

IX

X

Slender warrant had
He to be proud of

1 Lit. 'the gathering of men.'
2 Dublin.

Gave to the garbaging war-hawk to gorge For like the clear voice when a trumpet it, and

shrills, That gray beast, the wolf of the weald. Blown by the fierce beleaguerers of a town,

So rang the clear voice of Æakidês;
XV

And when the brazen cry of Æakidês
Never had huger

Was heard among the Trojans, all their
Slaughter of heroes

hearts Slain by the sword-edge —

Were troubled, and the full-maned horses Such as old writers

whirl'd Have writ of in histories

The chariots backward, knowing griefs at Hapt in this isle, since

hand; Up from the East hither

And sheer-astounded were the charioteers
Saxon and Angle from

To see the dread, unweariable fire
Over the broad billow

That always o'er the great Peleion's head
Broke into Britain with

Burn'd, for the bright-eyed goddess made Haughty war-workers who

it burn. Harried the Welshman, when Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty Earls that were lured by the

shout, Hunger of glory gat

Thrice backward reeld the Trojans and Hold of the land.

allies; And there and then twelve of their noblest

died ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH Among their spears and chariots.

(ILIAD, XVIII. 202]

TO PRINCESS FREDERICA ON

HER MARRIAGE

First printed in ‘The Nineteenth Century' for August, 1877.

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So saying, light-foot Iris pass'd away.
Then rose

Achilles dear to Zeus; and
round
The warrior's puissant shoulders Pallas

flung
Her fringed ægis, and around his head
The glorious goddess wreath'd a golden

cloud,
And from it lighted an all-shining flame.
As when a smoke from a city goes to heaven
Far off from out an island girt by foes,
All day the men contend in grievous war
From their own city, but with set of sun
Their fires flame thickly, and aloft the glare
Flies streaming, if perchance the neighbors

round
May see, and sail to help them in the war;
So from his head the splendor went to hea-
From wall to dyke he stept, he stood, nor

join'd
The Achæans — honoring his wise mother's

word There standing, shouted, and Pallas far

away Call’d; and a boundless panic shook the foe

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN

ON THE CENOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER

ABBEY

ven.

Written in 1877, and included in the ‘Bal. lads' volume.

Not here ! the white North has thy bones;

and thon, Heroic sailor-soul, Art passing on thine happier voyage now

Toward no earthly pole.

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This volume was published in 1885, with the following dedication :

TO MY GOOD FRIEND

ROBERT BROWNING

WHOSE GENIUS AND GENIALITY
WILL BEST APPRECIATE WHAT MAY BE BEST
AND MAKE MOST ALLOWANCE FOR WHAT MAY BE WORST

THIS VOLUME

IS
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

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rosy feet,

Mr. Arthur Waugh (* Alfred Lord Tennyson,' 2d London, 1893), remarks : 'It is charac. teristic of a certain shyness in Tennyson that he never told Browning of the dedication, and it was not until the book was in the hands of the public that the latter learned the circumstance from a friend.'

The poems that follow, as far as the lines To H. P. H. Princess Beatrice,' were included in the Tiresias' volume. The Idyll, ‘Balin and Balan,' also appeared in this volume for the first time. TO E. FITZGERALD

Or on your head their

As if they knew your diet spares

Whatever moved in that full sheet This introduciion to the poem that follows

Let down to Peter at his prayers; was apparently written on or about March 31, 1883, when Fitzgerald was seventy-five years

Who live on milk and meal and

grass; of age. He was rather more than a year older And once for ten long weeks I tried than Tennyson, who was born August 6, 1809.

Your table of Pythagoras, He died June 14, 1883, before the volume con- And seem'd at first a thing enskied,' taining the poem was published.

As Shakespeare has it, airy-light

To float above the ways of men, Old Fitz, who from your suburb grange, Then fell from that half-spiritual height Where once I tarried for a while,

Chill’d, till I tasted flesh again Glance at the wheeling orb of change, One night when earth was winter-black, And greet it with a kindly smile;

And all the heavens flash'd in frost; Whom yet I see as there you sit

And on me, half-asleep, came back Beneath your sheltering garden-tree, That wholesome heat the blood had lost, And watch your doves about you flit, And set me climbing icy capes

And plant on shoulder, hand, and knee, And glaciers, over which there rollid

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