And the masts, with all their rigging,
Fell slowly one by one,

And the hulk dilated and vanished,
As a sea-mist in the sun!

And the people who saw this marvel,
Each said unto his friend,

That this was the mould of their vessel,
And thus her tragic end.

And the pastor of the village

Gave thanks to God in prayer, That to quiet their troubled spirits He had sent this Ship of Air.

THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. SAINT AUGUSTINE! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame

A ladder, if we will but tread

Beneath our feet each deed of shame! All common things-each day's events, That with the hour begin and end; Our pleasures and our discontents,

Åre rounds by which we may ascend.

The low desire-the base design,

That makes another's virtues less;

The revel of the giddy wine,

And all occasions of excess.

The longing for ignoble things,

The strife for triumph more than truth The hardening of the heart, that brings Irreverence for the dreams of youth! All thoughts of ill-all evil deeds,

That have their root in thought of ill, Whatever hinders or impedes

The action of the nobler will!

All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright field of Fair Renown
The right of eminent domain!

We have not wings-we cannot soar-
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees-by more and more-
The cloudy summits of our time.

The mighty pyramids of stone

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.

The distant mountains, that uprear
Their frowning foreheads to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.

The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.

Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern, unseen before,
A path to higher destinies.

Nor deem the irrevocable Past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If rising on its wrecks, at last,
To something nobler we attain.

CURFEW.

I.

SOLEMNLY, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,

The Curfew Bell

Is beginning to toll.

Cover the embers,

And put out the light;

Toil comes with the morning,
And rest with the night.

Dark grow the windows,

And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence,-
All footsteps retire.

No voice in the chambers,
No sound in the hall !

Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all!

II.

The book is completed,
And closed, like the day;

And the hand that has written it
Lays it away.

Dim grow its fancies;
Forgotten they lie

Like coals in the ashes,
They darken and die.

Song sinks into silence,
The story is told,

The windows are darkened,
The hearth-stone is cold.

Darker and darker

The black shadows fall;

Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all.

THE

GOLDEN LEGEND.

PROLOGUE.

SCENE THE SPIRE OF STRASBURG CATHEDRAL.

Night and storm. LUCIFER, with the powers of the air trying to tear down the Cross.

LUCIFER. HASTEN! hasten !

O ye Spirits!

From its station drag the ponderous
Cross of iron, that to mock us
Is uplifted high in air!

VOICES. O, we cannot !

For around it

All the Saints and Guardian Angels

Throng in legions to protect it;

They defeat us everywhere!

BELLS. Laudo Deum verum!

Plebem voco!

Congrego clerum !

LUCIF. Lower! lower!
Hover downward!

Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and
Clashing, clanging, to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!

L

VOICES. All thy thunders
Here are harmless!

For these bells have been anointed,
And baptised with holy water!
They defy our utmost power.

BELLS. Defunctos ploro!

Pestem fugo!

Festa decoro!

LUCIF. Shake the casements!

Break the painted

Panes, that flame with gold and crimson;

Scatter them like leaves of Autumn,

Swept away before the blast!

VOICES. O, we cannot!

The Archangel

Michael flames from every window,

With the sword of fire that drove us

Headlong, out of heaven, aghast !

BELLS. Funera plango!

Fulgura frango!

Sabbata pango!

LUCIF. Aim your lightnings

At the oaken,

Massive, iron-studded portals!

Sack the house of God, and scatter
Wide the ashes of the dead!

VOICES. O, we cannot !

The Apostles

And the Martyrs, wrapt in mantles,

Stand as warders at the entrance,

Stand as sentinels o'erhead!

BELLS. Excito lentos!

Dissippo ventos!

Paco cruentos!

LUCIF. Baffled! baffled!
Inefficient,

Craven spirits! leave this labour
Unto Time, the great Destroyer!
Come away, ere night is gone!
Onward! onward!

VOICES.

With the night-wind,

Over field and farm and forest,

Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,

Blighting all we breathe upon !

[They sweep away. Organ and Gregorian Chant.

CHOIR. Nocte surgentes

Vigilemus omnes !

I.

SCENE THE CASTLE OF VAUTSBERG ON THE RHINE.

A Chamber in a Tower. PRINCE HENRY sitting alone, ill and restless.

Midnight.

PRINCE HENRY. I CANNOT sleep! my fervid brain

Calls up the vanished Past again,

And throws its misty splendours deep
Into the pallid realms of sleep!

A breath from that far-distant shore
Comes freshening ever more and more,
And wafts o'er intervening seas
Sweet odours from the Hesperides !
A wind, that through the corridor
Just stirs the curtain, and no more,
And, touching the Eolian strings,
Faints with the burden that it brings!
Come back! ye friendships long-departed!
That like o'erflowing streamlets started,
And now are dwindled, one by one,
To stony channels in the sun!

Come back! ye friends, whose lives are ended!
Come back, with all that light attended,
Which seemed to darken and decay

When ye arose and went away!

They come, the shapes of joy and woe,
The airy crowds of long-ago,

The dreams and fancies known of yore,
That have been, and shall be no more.
They change the cloisters of the night
Into a garden of delight;

They make the dark and dreary hours
Open and blossom into flowers!
I would not sleep! I love to be
Again in their fair company;
But ere my lips can bid them stay,
They pass and vanish quite away!
Alas! our memories may retrace
Each circumstance of time and place,
Season and scene come back again,
And outward things unchanged remain
The rest we cannot reinstate;
Ourselves we cannot re-create,
Nor set our souls to the same key
Of the remembered harmony!

;

Rest! rest! O, give me rest and peace!
The thought of life that ne'er shall cease