MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

TO A REDBREAST

(IN SICKNESS)

STAY, little cheerful robin! stay,
And at my casement sing,
Though it should prove a farewell lay
And this our parting spring.

Though I, alas! may ne'er enjoy
The promise in thy song;

A charm, that thought can not destroy,
Doth to thy strain belong.

Methinks that in my dying hour
Thy song would still be dear,
And with a more than earthly power
My passing spirit cheer

Then, little bird, this boon confer,

Come, and my requiem sing,

Nor fail to be the harbinger

Of everlasting spring.

S. H.

SONNET

TO AN OCTOGENARIAN

AFFECTIONS lose their object; time brings forth
No successors; and, lodged in memory,
If love exists no longer, it must die,

Wanting accustomed food, must pass from earth,
Or never hope to reach a second birth.
This sad belief, the happiest that is left

To thousands, share not thou; howe'er bereft,
Scorned, or neglected, fear not such a dearth.
Though poor and destitute of friends thou art,
Perhaps the sole survivor of thy race,

One to whom Heaven assigns that mournful part
The utmost solitude of age to face,

Still shall be left some corner of the heart
Where love for living thing can find a place.

FLOATING ISLAND

These lines are by the author of the address to the wind, etc., published heretofore along with my poems. Those to a red breast are by a deceased female relative.

HARMONIOUS Powers with Nature work
On sky, earth, river, lake, and sea ;
Sunshine and cloud, whirlwind and breeze,
All in one duteous task agree.

Once did I see a slip of earth

(By throbbing waves long undermined)
Loosed from its hold; how, no one knew,
But all might see it float, obedient to the wind;

Might see it, from the mossy shore
Dissevered, float upon the lake,

Float with its crest of trees adorned

On which the warbling birds their pastime take.

Food, shelter, safety, there they find;
There berries ripen, flowerets bloom;
There insects live their lives, and die;
A peopled world it is; in size a tiny room.

And thus through many seasons' space
This little island may survive ;

But Nature, though we mark her not,
Will take away, may cease to give.

Perchance when you are wandering forth

Upon some vacant sunny day,

Without an object, hope, or fear,

Thither your eyes may turn, the isle is passed away;

Buried beneath the glittering lake,
Its place no longer to be found;
Yet the lost fragments shall remain
To fertilise some other ground.

D. W.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE

ERE the brothers through the gateway
Issued forth with old and young
To the horn Sir Eustace pointed
Which for ages there had hung.
Horn it was which none could sound,
No one upon living ground,

Save he who came as rightful heir
To Egremont's domains and castle fair.

Heirs from times of earliest record
Had the house of Lucie born,
Who of right had held the lordship
Claimed by proof upon the horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn, it owned his power;
He was acknowledged: and the blast,
Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,
And to Hubert thus said he,

"What I speak this horn shall witness
For thy better memory.

Hear, then, and neglect me not!
At this time, and on this spot,

The words are uttered from my heart,
As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.

"On good service we are going
Life to risk by sea and land,

In which course if Christ our Saviour

Do my sinful soul demand,

Hither come thou back straightway,

Hubert, if alive that day;

Return, and sound the horn, that we

May have a living house still left in thee!"

"Fear not," quickly answered Hubert ;
"As I am thy father's son,

What thou askest, noble brother,
With God's favour shall be done."
So were both right well content:
Forth they from the castle went,
And at the head of their array

To Palestine the brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies
Were a line for valour famed),

And where'er their strokes alighted,

There the Saracens were tamed.

Whence, then, could it come? the thought,

By what evil spirit brought?

Oh! can a brave man wish to take

His brother's life, for lands' and castle's sake?

"Sir!" the ruffians said to Hubert,
Deep he lies in Jordan flood."
Stricken by this ill assurance,
Pale and trembling Hubert stood.
"Take your earnings." Oh! that I
Could have seen my brother die!
It was a pang that vexed him then;
And oft returned, again, and yet again.

Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace!
Nor of him were tidings heard;
Wherefore, bold as day, the murderer
Back again to England steered.
To his castle Hubert sped;
Nothing has he now to dread.
But silent and by stealth he came,
And at an hour which nobody could name.

None could tell if it were night-time,
Night or day, at even or morn ;
No one's eye had seen him enter,
No one's ear had heard the horn.
But bold Hubert lives in glee:
Months and years went smilingly;
With plenty was his table spread;

And bright the lady is who shares his bed.

Likewise he had sons and daughters;
And, as good men do, he sate

At his board by these surrounded,
Flourishing in fair estate.

And while thus in open day

Once he sate, as old books say,

A blast was uttered from the horn,

Where by the castle-gate it hung forlorn.

'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace!
He is come to claim his right:
Ancient castle, woods, and mountains
Hear the challenge with delight.