WITHOUT AND WITHIN.

· GODMINSTER CHIMES.

341

"And is this," mused I, "all ye earned, | He thinks how happy is my arm
High-vaulted brain and cunning hand,
That ye to greater men could teach
The skill yourselves could never reach ?"

'Neath its white-gloved and jewelled

"And who were they," I mused, "that
wrought

Through pathless wilds, with labor long,
The highways of our daily thought?
Who reared those towers of earliest song
That lift us from the throng to peace
Remote in sunny silences?"

Out clanged the Ave Mary bells,
And to my heart this message came:
Each clamorous throat among them tells
What strong-souled martyrs died in
flame

To make it possible that thou

Shouldst here with brother sinners bow.

Thoughts that great hearts once broke
for, we

Breathe cheaply in the common air;
The dust we trample heedlessly
Throbbed once in saints and heroes rare.
Who perished, opening for their race
New pathways to the commonplace.

Henceforth, when rings the health to
those

Who live in story and in song,
O nameless dead, that now repose
Safe in Oblivion's chambers strong,
One cup of recognition true
Shall silently be drained to you!

WITHOUT AND WITHIN.

My coachman, in the moonlight there,
Looks through the side-light of the
door;

I hear him with his brethren swear,
As I could do, but only more.

Flattening his nose against the pane,
He envies me my brilliant lot,
Breathes on his aching fists in vain,
And dooms me to a place more hot.

He sees me in to supper go,

A silken wonder by my side,
Bare arms, bare shoulders, and a row
Of flounces, for the door too wide.

load;

And wishes me some dreadful harm,
Hearing the merry corks explode.

Meanwhile I inly curse the bore

And envy hin, outside the door,
Of hunting still the same old coon,

In golden quiets of the moon.

The winter wind is not so cold

As the bright smile he sees me win,
Nor the host's oldest wine so old
As our poor gabble sour and thin.

I envy him the ungyved prance

By which his freezing feet he warns, And drag my lady's-chains and dance The galley-slave of dreary forms.

O, could he have my share of din,

And I his quiet!-past a doubt "T would still be one man bored within, And just another bored without.

GODMINSTER CHIMES.

WRITTEN IN AID OF A CHIME OF BELLS
FOR CHRIST CHURCH, CAMBRIDGE.

GODMINSTER? Is it Fancy's play?
I know not, but the word
Sings in my heart, nor can I say
Whether 't was dreamed or heard;
Yet fragrant in my mind it clings
As blossoms after rain,

And builds of half-remembered things
This vision in my brain.

Through aisles of long-drawn centuries
And to that symbol lifts its eyes
My spirit walks in thought,

Which God's own pity wrought;
From Calvary shines the altar's gleam,
The Church's East is there,
The Ages one great minster seem,

That throbs with praise and prayer.

And all the way from Calvary down
The carven pavement shows
Their graves who won the martyr's

crown

And safe in God repose;
The saints of many a warring creed
Who now in heaven have learned