Legends and Lyrics Volume I Part 5

No echo seems to wake again My heart to anything but pain, Save when a dream of twilight brings The fluttering of an angel's wings!

VERSE: A KNIGHT ERRANT

Though he lived and died among us, Yet his name may be enrolled With the knights whose deeds of daring Ancient chronicles have told.

Still a stripling, he encountered Poverty, and struggled long, Gathering force from every effort, Till he knew his arm was strong.

Then his heart and life he offered To his radiant mistress--Truth; Never thought, or dream, or faltering, Marred the promise of his youth.

So he rode forth to defend her, And her peerless worth proclaim; Challenging each recreant doubter Who aspersed her spotless name.

First upon his path stood Ignorance, Hideous in his brutal might; Hard the blows and long the battle Ere the monster took to flight.

Then, with light and fearless spirit, Prejudice he dared to brave; Hunting back the lying craven To her black sulphureous cave.

Followed by his servile minions, Custom, the old Giant, rose; Yet he, too, at last was conquered By the good Knight's weighty blows.

Then he turned, and, flushed with victory Struck upon the brazen s.h.i.+eld Of the world's great king, Opinion And defied him to the field.

Once again he rose a conqueror, And, though wounded in the fight, With a dying smile of triumph Saw that Truth had gained her right.

On his failing ear re-echoing Came the shouting round her throne; Little cared he that no future With her name would link his own.

Spent with many a hard-fought battle, Slowly ebbed his life away, And the crowd that flocked to greet her Trampled on him where he lay.

Gathering all his strength, he saw her Crowned and reigning in her pride!

Looked his last upon her beauty, Raised his eyes to G.o.d, and died.

VERSE: LINGER, OH, GENTLE TIME

Linger, oh, gentle Time, Linger, oh, radiant grace of bright To-day!

Let not the hours' chime Call thee away, But linger near me still with fond delay.

Linger, for thou art mine!

What dearer treasures can the future hold?

What sweeter flowers than thine Can she unfold?

What secrets tell my heart thou hast not told?

Oh, linger in thy flight!

For shadows gather round, and should we part, A dreary starless night May fill my heart,-- Then pause and linger yet ere thou depart.

Linger, I ask no more,-- Thou art enough for ever--thou alone; What future can restore, When thou art flown, All that I hold from thee and call my own?

VERSE: HOMEWARD BOUND

I have seen a fiercer tempest, Known a louder whirlwind blow; I was wrecked off red Algiers, Six-and-thirty years ago.

Young I was, and yet old seamen Were not strong or calm as I; While life held such treasures for me, I felt sure I could not die.

Life I struggled for--and saved it; Life alone--and nothing more; Bruised, half dead, alone and helpless, I was cast upon the sh.o.r.e.

I feared the pitiless rocks of Ocean; So the great sea rose--and then Cast me from her friendly bosom, On the pitiless hearts of men.

Gaunt and dreary ran the mountains, With black gorges, up the land; Up to where the lonely Desert Spreads her burning, dreary sand: In the gorges of the mountains, On the plain beside the sea, Dwelt my stern and cruel masters, The black Moors of Barbary.

Ten long years I toiled among them, Hopeless--as I used to say; Now I know Hope burnt within me Fiercer, stronger, day by day: Those dim years of toil and sorrow Like one long dark dream appear; One long day of weary waiting-- Then each day was like a year.

How I cursed the land--my prison; How I cursed the serpent sea-- And the Demon Fate that showered All her curses upon me; I was mad, I think--G.o.d pardon Words so terrible and wild-- This voyage would have been my last one, For I left a wife and child.

Never did one tender vision Fade away before my sight, Never once through all my slavery, Burning day or dreary night; In my soul it lived, and kept me, Now I feel, from black despair, And my heart was not quite broken, While they lived and blest me there.

When at night my task was over, I would hasten to the sh.o.r.e; (All was strange and foreign inland, Nothing I had known before;) Strange looked the bleak mountain pa.s.ses, Strange the red glare and black shade, And the Oleanders, waving To the sound the fountains made.

Then I gazed at the great Ocean, Till she grew a friend again; And because she knew old England, I forgave her all my pain: So the blue still sky above me, With its white clouds' fleecy fold, And the glimmering stars, (though brighter,) Looked like home and days of old.

And a calm would fall upon me, Worn perhaps with work and pain, The wild hungry longing left me, And I was myself again: Looking at the silver waters, Looking up at the far sky, Dreams of home and all I left there Floated sorrowfully by.

A fair face, but pale with sorrow, With blue eyes, brimful of tears, And the little red mouth, quivering With a smile, to hide its fears; Holding out her baby towards me, From the sky she looked on me; So it was that last I saw her, As the s.h.i.+p put out to sea.

Sometimes, (and a pang would seize me That the years were floating on,) I would strive to paint her, altered, And the little baby gone: She no longer young and girlish, The child, standing by her knee, And her face, more pale and saddened With the weariness for me.

Then I saw, as night grew darker.

How she taught my child to pray, Holding its small hands together, For its father, far away; And I felt her sorrow, weighing Heavier on me than my own; Pitying her blighted spring-time, And her joy so early flown.

Till upon my hands (now hardened With the rough, harsh toil of years) Bitter drops of anguish falling, Woke me from my dream, to tears; Woke me as a slave, an outcast.

Leagues from home, across the deep; So--though you may call it childish-- So I sobbed myself to sleep.

Well, the years sped on--my Sorrow, Calmer, and yet stronger grown, Was my s.h.i.+eld against all suffering, Poorer, meaner, than her own.

Thus my cruel master's harshness Fell upon me all in vain, Yet the tale of what we suffered Echoed back from main to main.

You have heard in a far country Of a self-devoted band, Vowed to rescue Christian captives Pining in a foreign land.

And these gentle-hearted strangers Year by year go forth from Rome, In their hands the hard-earned ransom, To restore some exiles home.

I was freed: they broke the tidings Gently to me: but indeed Hour by hour sped on, I knew not What the words meant--I was freed!

Better so, perhaps; while sorrow (More akin to earthly things) Only strains the sad heart's fibres-- Joy, bright stranger, breaks the strings.

Yet at last it rushed upon me, And my heart beat full and fast; What were now my years of waiting, What was all the dreary past?

Nothing--to the impatient throbbing I must bear across the sea: Nothing--to the eternal hours Still between my home and me!