"Then came a morn in spring, and the cheerful sun Whitened the city and the hills around, And every mountain-road that clambered them, Tincturing the greyness of the olives warm, And the rank cacti round the valley's sides. The day was one whereon death-penalties Were put in force, and here and there were set The soldiery for order, as I said, Since one of the condemned had raised some heat, And crowds surged passionately to see him slain. I, mounted on a Cappadocian horse, With some half-company of auxiliaries, Had captained the procession through the streets When it came streaming from the judgment-hall After the verdicts of the Governor. It drew to the great gate of the northern way That bears towards Damascus; and to a knoll Upon the common, just beyond the walls - Whence could be swept a wide horizon round Over the housetops to the remotest heights. Here was the public execution-ground For city crimes, called then and doubtless now Golgotha, Kranion, or Calvaria.

"The usual dooms were duly meted out; Some three or four were stript, transfixed, and nailed, And no great stir occurred. A day of wont It was to me, so far, and would have slid Clean from my memory at its squalid close But for an incident that followed these.

"Among the tag-rag rabble of either sex That hung around the wretches as they writhed, Till thrust back by our spears, one held my eye - A weeping woman, whose strained countenance, Sharpened against a looming livid cloud, Was mocked by the crude rays of afternoon - The mother of one of those who suffered there I had heard her called when spoken roughly to By my ranged men for pressing forward so. It stole upon me hers was a face I knew; Yet when, or how, I had known it, for a while Eluded me. And then at once it came.

"Some thirty years or more before that noon I was sub-captain of a company Drawn from the legion of Calabria, That marched up from Judaea north to Tyre. We had pierced the old flat country of Jezreel, The great Esdraelon Plain and fighting-floor Of Jew with Canaanite, and with the host Of Pharaoh-Necho, king of Egypt, met While crossing there to strike the Assyrian pride. We left behind Gilboa; passed by Nain; Till bulging Tabor rose, embossed to the top With arbute, terabinth, and locust growths.

"Encumbering me were sundry sick, so fallen Through drinking from a swamp beside the way; But we pressed on, till, bearing over a ridge, We dipt into a world of pleasantness - A vale, the fairest I had gazed upon - Which lapped a village on its furthest slopes Called Nazareth, brimmed round by uplands nigh. In the midst thereof a fountain bubbled, where, Lime-dry from marching, our glad halt we made To rest our sick ones, and refresh us all.

"Here a day onward, towards the eventide, Our men were piping to a Pyrrhic dance Trod by their comrades, when the young women came To fill their pitchers, as their custom was. I proffered help to one—a slim girl, coy Even as a fawn, meek, and as innocent. Her long blue gown, the string of silver coins That hung down by her banded beautiful hair, Symboled in full immaculate modesty.

"Well, I was young, and hot, and readily stirred To quick desire. 'Twas tedious timing out The convalescence of the soldiery; And I beguiled the long and empty days By blissful yieldance to her sweet allure, Who had no arts, but what out-arted all, The tremulous tender charm of trustfulness. We met, and met, and under the winking stars That passed which peoples earth—true union, yea, To the pure eye of her simplicity.

"Meanwhile the sick found health; and we pricked on. I made her no rash promise of return, As some do use; I was sincere in that; I said we sundered never to meet again - And yet I spoke untruth unknowingly! - For meet again we did. Now, guess you aught? The weeping mother on Calvaria Was she I had known—albeit that time and tears Had wasted rudely her once flowerlike form, And her soft eyes, now swollen with sorrowing.

"Though I betrayed some qualms, she marked me not; And I was scarce of mood to comrade her And close the silence of so wide a time To claim a malefactor as my son - (For so I guessed him). And inquiry made Brought rumour how at Nazareth long before An old man wedded her for pity's sake On finding she had grown pregnant, none knew how, Cared for her child, and loved her till he died.

"Well; there it ended; save that then I learnt That he—the man whose ardent blood was mine - Had waked sedition long among the Jews, And hurled insulting parlance at their god, Whose temple bulked upon the adjoining hill, Vowing that he would raze it, that himself Was god as great as he whom they adored, And by descent, moreover, was their king; With sundry other incitements to misrule.

"The impalements done, and done the soldiers' game Of raffling for the clothes, a legionary, Longinus, pierced the young man with his lance At signs from me, moved by his agonies Through naysaying the drug they had offered him. It brought the end. And when he had breathed his last The woman went. I saw her never again . . . Now glares my moody meaning on you, friend? - That when you talk of offspring as sheer joy So trustingly, you blink contingencies. Fors Fortuna! He who goes fathering Gives frightful hostages to hazardry!"

Thus Panthera's tale. 'Twas one he seldom told, But yet it got abroad. He would unfold, At other times, a story of less gloom, Though his was not a heart where jests had room. He would regret discovery of the truth Was made too late to influence to ruth The Procurator who had condemned his son— Or rather him so deemed. For there was none To prove that Panthera erred not: and indeed, When vagueness of identity I would plead, Panther himself would sometimes own as much - Yet lothly. But, assuming fact was such, That the said woman did not recognize Her lover's face, is matter for surprise. However, there's his tale, fantasy or otherwise.

Thereafter shone not men of Panthera's kind: The indolent heads at home were ill-inclined To press campaigning that would hoist the star Of their lieutenants valorous afar. Jealousies kept him irked abroad, controlled And stinted by an Empire no more bold. Yet in some actions southward he had share - In Mauretania and Numidia; there With eagle eye, and sword and steed and spur, Quelling uprisings promptly. Some small stir In Parthia next engaged him, until maimed, As I have said; and cynic Time proclaimed His noble spirit broken. What a waste Of such a Roman!—one in youth-time graced With indescribable charm, so I have heard, Yea, magnetism impossible to word When faltering as I saw him. What a fame, O Son of Saturn, had adorned his name, Might the Three so have urged Thee!—Hour by hour His own disorders hampered Panthera's power To brood upon the fate of those he had known, Even of that one he always called his own - Either in morbid dream or memory . . . He died at no great age, untroublously, An exit rare for ardent soldiers such as he.



THE UNBORN



I rose at night, and visited The Cave of the Unborn: And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head To haste its advent morn.

Their eyes were lit with artless trust, Hope thrilled their every tone; "A scene the loveliest, is it not? A pure delight, a beauty-spot Where all is gentle, true and just, And darkness is unknown?"

My heart was anguished for their sake, I could not frame a word; And they descried my sunken face, And seemed to read therein, and trace The news that pity would not break, Nor truth leave unaverred.

And as I silently retired I turned and watched them still, And they came helter-skelter out, Driven forward like a rabble rout Into the world they had so desired By the all-immanent Will.

1905.



THE MAN HE KILLED



"Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Right many a nipperkin!

"But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at him as he at me, And killed him in his place.

"I shot him dead because - Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was; That's clear enough; although

"He thought he'd 'list, perhaps, Off-hand like—just as I - Was out of work—had sold his traps - No other reason why.

"Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down You'd treat if met where any bar is, Or help to half-a-crown."

1902.



GEOGRAPHICAL KNOWLEDGE (A MEMORY OF CHRISTIANA C-)



Where Blackmoor was, the road that led To Bath, she could not show, Nor point the sky that overspread Towns ten miles off or so.

But that Calcutta stood this way, Cape Horn there figured fell, That here was Boston, here Bombay, She could declare full well.

Less known to her the track athwart Froom Mead or Yell'ham Wood Than how to make some Austral port In seas of surly mood.

She saw the glint of Guinea's shore Behind the plum-tree nigh, Heard old unruly Biscay's roar In the weir's purl hard by . . .

"My son's a sailor, and he knows All seas and many lands, And when he's home he points and shows Each country where it stands.

"He's now just there—by Gib's high rock - And when he gets, you see, To Portsmouth here, behind the clock, Then he'll come back to me!"



ONE RALPH BLOSSOM SOLILOQUIZES



("It being deposed that vij women who were mayds before he knew them have been brought upon the towne [rates?] by the fornicacions of one Ralph Blossom, Mr Major inquired why he should not contribute xiv pence weekly toward their mayntenance. But it being shewn that the sayd R. B. was dying of a purple feaver, no order was made."—Budmouth Borough Minutes: 16—.)

When I am in hell or some such place, A-groaning over my sorry case, What will those seven women say to me Who, when I coaxed them, answered "Aye" to me?

"I did not understand your sign!" Will be the words of Caroline; While Jane will cry, "If I'd had proof of you, I should have learnt to hold aloof of you!"

"I won't reproach: it was to be!" Will dryly murmur Cicely; And Rosa: "I feel no hostility, For I must own I lent facility."

Lizzy says: "Sharp was my regret, And sometimes it is now! But yet I joy that, though it brought notoriousness, I knew Love once and all its gloriousness!"

Says Patience: "Why are we apart? Small harm did you, my poor Sweet Heart! A manchild born, now tall and beautiful, Was worth the ache of days undutiful."

And Anne cries: "O the time was fair, So wherefore should you burn down there? There is a deed under the sun, my Love, And that was ours. What's done is done, my Love. These trumpets here in Heaven are dumb to me With you away. Dear, come, O come to me!"



THE NOBLE LADY'S TALE (circa 1790)



I

"We moved with pensive paces, I and he, And bent our faded faces Wistfully, For something troubled him, and troubled me.

"The lanthorn feebly lightened Our grey hall, Where ancient brands had brightened Hearth and wall, And shapes long vanished whither vanish all.

"'O why, Love, nightly, daily,' I had said, 'Dost sigh, and smile so palely, As if shed Were all Life's blossoms, all its dear things dead?'

"'Since silence sets thee grieving,' He replied, 'And I abhor deceiving One so tried, Why, Love, I'll speak, ere time us twain divide.'

"He held me, I remember, Just as when Our life was June—(September It was then); And we walked on, until he spoke again.

"'Susie, an Irish mummer, Loud-acclaimed Through the gay London summer, Was I; named A master in my art, who would be famed.

"'But lo, there beamed before me Lady Su; God's altar-vow she swore me When none knew, And for her sake I bade the sock adieu.

"'My Lord your father's pardon Thus I won: He let his heart unharden Towards his son, And honourably condoned what we had done;

"'But said—recall you, dearest? - As for Su, I'd see her—ay, though nearest Me unto - Sooner entombed than in a stage purlieu!

"'Just so.—And here he housed us, In this nook, Where Love like balm has drowsed us: Robin, rook, Our chief familiars, next to string and book.

"'Our days here, peace-enshrouded, Followed strange The old stage-joyance, crowded, Rich in range; But never did my soul desire a change,

"'Till now, when far uncertain Lips of yore Call, call me to the curtain, There once more, But ONCE, to tread the boards I trod before.

"'A night—the last and single Ere I die - To face the lights, to mingle As did I Once in the game, and rivet every eye!'

"'To something drear, distressing As the knell Of all hopes worth possessing!' . . . —What befell Seemed linked with me, but how I could not tell.

"Hours passed; till I implored him, As he knew How faith and frankness toward him Ruled me through, To say what ill I had done, and could undo.

"'FAITH—FRANKNESS. Ah! Heaven save such!' Murmured he, 'They are wedded wealth! I gave such Liberally, But you, Dear, not. For you suspected me.'

"I was about beseeching In hurt haste More meaning, when he, reaching To my waist, Led me to pace the hall as once we paced.

"'I never meant to draw you To own all,' Declared he. 'But—I SAW you - By the wall, Half-hid. And that was why I failed withal!'

"'Where? when?' said I—'Why, nigh me, At the play That night. That you should spy me, Doubt my fay, And follow, furtive, took my heart away!'

"That I had never been there, But had gone To my locked room—unseen there, Curtains drawn, Long days abiding—told I, wonder-wan.

"'Nay, 'twas your form and vesture, Cloak and gown, Your hooded features—gesture Half in frown, That faced me, pale,' he urged, 'that night in town.

"'And when, outside, I handed To her chair (As courtesy demanded Of me there) The leading lady, you peeped from the stair.

"Straight pleaded I: 'Forsooth, Love, Had I gone, I must have been in truth, Love, Mad to don Such well-known raiment.' But he still went on

"That he was not mistaken Nor misled. - I felt like one forsaken, Wished me dead, That he could think thus of the wife he had wed!

"His going seemed to waste him Like a curse, To wreck what once had graced him; And, averse To my approach, he mused, and moped, and worse.

"Till, what no words effected Thought achieved: IT WAS MY WRAITH—projected, He conceived, Thither, by my tense brain at home aggrieved.

"Thereon his credence centred Till he died; And, no more tempted, entered Sanctified, The little vault with room for one beside."

III

Thus far the lady's story. - Now she, too, Reclines within that hoary Last dark mew In Mellstock Quire with him she loved so true.

A yellowing marble, placed there Tablet-wise, And two joined hearts enchased there Meet the eyes; And reading their twin names we moralize:

Did she, we wonder, follow Jealously? And were those protests hollow? - Or saw he Some semblant dame? Or can wraiths really be?

Were it she went, her honour, All may hold, Pressed truth at last upon her Till she told - (Him only—others as these lines unfold.)

Riddle death-sealed for ever, Let it rest! . . . One's heart could blame her never If one guessed That go she did. She knew her actor best.



UNREALIZED



Down comes the winter rain - Spoils my hat and bow - Runs into the poll of me; But mother won't know.

We've been out and caught a cold, Knee-deep in snow; Such a lucky thing it is That mother won't know!

Rosy lost herself last night - Couldn't tell where to go. Yes—it rather frightened her, But mother didn't know.

Somebody made Willy drunk At the Christmas show: O 'twas fun! It's well for him That mother won't know!

Howsoever wild we are, Late at school or slow, Mother won't be cross with us, Mother won't know.

How we cried the day she died! Neighbours whispering low . . . But we now do what we will - Mother won't know.



WAGTAIL AND BABY



A baby watched a ford, whereto A wagtail came for drinking; A blaring bull went wading through, The wagtail showed no shrinking.

A stallion splashed his way across, The birdie nearly sinking; He gave his plumes a twitch and toss, And held his own unblinking.

Next saw the baby round the spot A mongrel slowly slinking; The wagtail gazed, but faltered not In dip and sip and prinking.

A perfect gentleman then neared; The wagtail, in a winking, With terror rose and disappeared; The baby fell a-thinking.



ABERDEEN (April: 1905)



"And wisdom and knowledge shall be the stability of thy times."—Isaiah xxxiii. 6.

I looked and thought, "All is too gray and cold To wake my place-enthusiasms of old!" Till a voice passed: "Behind that granite mien Lurks the imposing beauty of a Queen." I looked anew; and saw the radiant form Of Her who soothes in stress, who steers in storm, On the grave influence of whose eyes sublime Men count for the stability of the time.



GEORGE MEREDITH 1828-1909



Forty years back, when much had place That since has perished out of mind, I heard that voice and saw that face.

He spoke as one afoot will wind A morning horn ere men awake; His note was trenchant, turning kind.

He was of those whose wit can shake And riddle to the very core The counterfeits that Time will break . . .

Of late, when we two met once more, The luminous countenance and rare Shone just as forty years before.

So that, when now all tongues declare His shape unseen by his green hill, I scarce believe he sits not there.

No matter. Further and further still Through the world's vaporous vitiate air His words wing on—as live words will.

May 1909.



YELL'HAM-WOOD'S STORY



Coomb-Firtrees say that Life is a moan, And Clyffe-hill Clump says "Yea!" But Yell'ham says a thing of its own: It's not "Gray, gray Is Life alway!" That Yell'ham says, Nor that Life is for ends unknown.

It says that Life would signify A thwarted purposing: That we come to live, and are called to die, Yes, that's the thing In fall, in spring, That Yell'ham says:- "Life offers—to deny!"

1902.



A YOUNG MAN'S EPIGRAM ON EXISTENCE



A senseless school, where we must give Our lives that we may learn to live! A dolt is he who memorizes Lessons that leave no time for prizes.

16 W. P. V., 1866.

THE END