Down which they stumble to eternal mock: "We sing old Sagas, songs of weal and woe, "Time Was unlocks the riddle of Time Is, "But not for him," I cried, "not yet for him "His shall be larger manhood, saved for those "Tears may be ours, but proud, for those who win "God give us peace! not such as lulls to sleep, And her leashed thunders gathering for their leap So cried I with clenched hands and passionate pain; TWO SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF BLONDEL. AUTUMN, 1863. SCENE I.-Near a Castle in Germany. 'TWERE no hard task, perchance, to win 'Twere only to comply with sin, And own the crown, though snatched by wrong: Rather Truth's chaplet let me wear, Though sharp as death its thorns may sting; Loyal to Loyalty, I bear No badge but of my rightful king. Patient by town and tower I wait, I buy no praise at cheaper rate, Or what faint hearts may fancy so; Or hall, or tourney, will I sing, Till the slow stars wheel round the hour While all the land runs red with strife, And tinkle in unmanly rhymes: To him my whole soul owns her king. When power is filched by drone and dolt, Shut in what tower of darkling chance That for the Cross make crashing room? Come! with hushed breath the battle waits O, strong to keep upright the old, Clear-eyed, as only are the true, SCENE II.-An Inn near the Chateau of Chalus. WELL, the whole thing is over, and here I sit With one arm in a sling and a milk-score of gashes, And this flagon of Cyprus must e'en warm my wit, Since what's left of youth's flame is a head flecked with ashes. I remember I sat in this very same inn. I was young then, and one young man thought I was hand some, I had found out what prison King Richard was in, And was spurring for England to push on the ransom. How I scorned the dull souls that sat guzzling around That granting our wish one of Fate's saddest jokes is ! I might as well join in the safe old tum, tum ; And your only too palpable hero in esse! 'Twixt the poem conceived and the rhyme we make show of, 'Twixt the boy's morning dream and the wake-up of life, "Twixt the Blondel God meant and a Blondel I know of! But the world's better off, I'm convinced of it now, To regard all mankind as their haltered milch-cow, And just care for themselves. Well, God cares for the many; For somehow the poor old Earth blunders along, And our sins cannot push the Lord's right hand from under. Better one honest man who can wait for God's mind In our poor shifting scene here though heroes were plenty ! Better one bite, at forty, of Truth's bitter rind, Than the hot wine that gushed from the vintage of twenty! I see it all now: when I wanted a king, 'Twas the kingship that failed in myself I was seeking,— 'Tis so much less easy to do than to sing, So much simpler to reign by a proxy than be king! Yes, I think I do see; after all's said and sung, Take this one rule of life and you never will rue it,'Tis but do your own duty and hold your own tongue And Blondel were royal himself, if he knew it! My life-long friends in this dear spot, I hear the autumnal breeze Wake the sear leaves to sigh for gladness gone, Hear, restless as the seas, Time's grim feet rustling through the withered grace Why make we moan For loss that doth enrich us yet Our lives were but for this immortal gain T Of unstilled longing and inspiring pain! 'Twere indiscreet To vex the shy and sacred grief Yet, Verse, with noiseless feet, Go whisper: "7 his death hath far choicer ends Not to seclude in closets of the heart, But, church-like, with wide doorways, to impart II. Brave, good, and true, I see him stand before me now, And read again on that young brow, Where every hope was new, How sweet were life! Yet, by the mouth firm-set, I could divine he knew That death within the sulphurous hostile lines, Happy their end Who vanish down life's evening stream Round the next river-bend! Happy long life, with honour at the close, All at a gush, keeping our first faith sure From mid-life's doubt and eld's contentment poor,— What more could Fortune send? But the high soul burns on to light men's feet Orbs full with share in their undarkening days |