"A GENIAL MOMENT OFT HAS GIVEN WHAT YEARS OF TOIL AND PAIN,-(TRENCH)

THOUGH WE CANNOT CEASE TO YEARN OR GRIEVE,-(TRENCH)

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

The morning and the evening blooms are roses of thine,
Two roses that for thine are kenned, old Ocean divine.

O Amphitrite's panting breast, whose breathing doth make
The waves to fall and ascend, old Ocean divine.

O womb of Amphitrite, hear thy beautiful child,
Abroad thy glory to commend, old Ocean divine.

YET WE HAVE LEARNED IN PATIENCE TO ABIDE."-TRENCH.

OF LONG INDUSTRIOUS TOIL, HAVE STRIVEN TO WIN, AND ALL IN VAIN."-TRENCH.

JOY IS OF GOD, BUT HEAVINESS AND CARE (RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH)

O! sprinkle thou with pearly dew Earth's garland of spring,
For only thou hast pearls to spend, old Ocean divine.

All Naiads that from thee had sprung, commanded by thee,
Back to thy Nereid-dances tend, old Ocean divine.

What ships of thought sail forth on thee! Atlantis doth sleep
In silence at thine utmost end, old Ocean divine.

The goblets of the gods, from high Olympus that fall,
Thou dost on coral boughs suspend, old Ocean divine.

A diver in the sea of love my song is, that fain
Thy glory would to all commend, old Ocean divine.

I, like the Moon, beneath thy waves with yearning would
plunge ;

Thence might I like the sun ascend, old Ocean divine.
[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

"IF THAT IN SIGHT OF GOD IS GREAT WHICH COUNTS ITSELF FOR SMALL,

WE, BY THAT LAW, HUMILITY THE CHIEFEST GRACE MUST CALL."-TRENCH.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

OLE star that glitterest in the crimson west,
Fair child of beauty, glorious lamp of love,
How cheerfully thou lookest from above,
With what unblinking eye and jocund crest,
Yet grief from thee hast past into my breast,
For all surpassing glory needs must be

Full unto us of sad perplexity,

Seen from this place of sin and sin's unrest.

Yea, all things which such perfect beauty own
As this of thine is, tempt us into tears;

OF OUR OWN HEARTS, AND WHAT HAS HARBOURED THERE."-TRENCH.

HE MIGHT HAVE BUILT A PALACE AT A Word,

474

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

For whether thou sole-sittest on thy throne,
Or leadest choral dances of thy peers,

Thou and all nature, saving man alone,

Fulfil with music sweet your Maker's ears.
[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

TIME WAS, AND HE WHO NOURISHED CROWDS WITH BREAD WOULD NOT ONE MEAL UNTO HIMSELF AFFORD:

AUTUMN.

HINE, Autumn, is unwelcome lore-
To tell the world its pomp is o'er :

To whisper in the Rose's ear

That all her beauty is no more;

And bid her own the faith how vain,
Which Spring to her so lately swore.

A queen deposed, she quits her state:
The nightingales her fall deplore;

The hundred-voiced bird may woo
The thousand-leafèd flower no more.
The jasmine sinks her head in shame-
The sharp east wind its tresses shore;
And robbed, in passing, cruelly
The tulip of the crown it wore.
The lily's sword is broken now,
That was so bright and keen before :
And not a blast can blow, but strews
With leaf of gold the Earth's dank floor.

The piping winds sing Nature's dirge,
As through the forest bleak they roar ;

WHO SOMETIMES HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD:

OH, SELF-DENYING LOVE, WHICH FELT ALONE FOR NEEDS OF OTHERS, NEVER FOR ITS OWN."-TRENCH.

OF SOME SWEET FUTURE, WHICH WE AFTER FIND BITTER TO TASTE, OR BIND THAT IN WITH FEARS,-(TRENCH)

AND WATER IT BEFOREHAND WITH OUR TEARS-VAIN TEARS FOR THAT WHICH NEVER MAY ARRIVE."-TRENCH.

STRONG TO FULFIL, IN SPIRIT AND IN VOICE, TRENCH)

RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

Thou fadest as a flower, O Man!

Of food for musing here is store.

O Man! thou fallest as a leaf:

Pace thoughtfully Earth's leaf-strewn floor;

Welcome the sadness of the time,

And lay to heart this natural lore.

[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

"O RIGHTEOUS DOOM, THAT THEY WHO MAKE PLEASURE THEIR ONLY END,-(TRENCH)

WRITTEN DURING THE RUSSIAN WAR.

HIS, or on this ;-Bring home with thee this shield,
Or be thou, dead, upon this shield brought home."
So spake the Spartan mother to the son

Whom her own hands had armed. O strong of heart!
Yet know I of a fairer strength than this—
Strength linked with weakness, steeped in tears and fears,
And tenderness of trembling womanhood;
But true as hers to duty's perfect law.

And such is theirs, who in our England now,
Wives, sisters, mothers, watch by day, by night,
In many a cottage, many a stately hall,

For those dread posts, too slow, too swift, that haste
O'er land and sea, the messengers of doom;
Theirs, who ten thousand times would rather hear
Of loved forms stretched upon the bloody sod,
All cold and stark, but with the debt they owed
To that dear land who bore them duly paid,
Than look to enfold them in strict arms again,
By aught in honour's or in peril's path
Unduly shunned, for that embrace reserved.

[From "Poems, Collected and Arranged Anew," ed. 1865.]

THAT HARDEST OF ALL PRECEPTS-TO REJOICE."-TRENCH.

ORDERING THE WHOLE LIFE FOR ITS SAKE, MISS THAT WHERETO THEY TEND."-TRENCH.