1881.

, '~~-~~~--~~~~--'---1

~ida ~\l~gltttlt ;OR,

THE BRISTOL SOULPTOR'S IDOL. .

A Poem.

BY

H. JEP::H:S ON.

(ii;n:;;untnht : I~ L HOO~ BOOKSELLER HOBAR~ {

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N. H. PROPSTING, PRINTER,

75, ELIZABETH STREET,

HOBART.

PREFACE.

By REV. R. D. POULETT HARRIS.

A friend of many years' standing, who is wont to solaco

the cares of a laborious life by cultivation of the muses, has

submitted to my critical imprinatur a narrative poem founded

on certain facts that fell under bis own knowledge in early

life. The tale which he relates is an affecting instance of

Genius impeded in its aspirations by

" Poverty's unconquerable bar" (Beatie's lYIinstrel).

I should neither be acting fairly to my frieud nor to tho

public were I to profess th~t the constrllction and execution

of the work are not open to criticism, yet I think that all who

read the poem will read it with interest, and if, like myself,

they happen to be acquainted with the scenes which it so

Ilraphically describes, they will read it with an interest

greatly intensified by association. In my own case it revived

many fond recollections. At the time when I left England,

25 years ago, all who were nearest and dearest to me were

residing on the Dnrdham Downs.

On the last Snnday that I spent in England, I was gazing

on the lovely scenery of Avon, on the woods of Leigh, and

the rocks of Clifton, in company with beloved relatives, some

of whom I shall not again see on this side the grave; and on

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ihat very day I had worshipped in St. Mary's, Redcliff, the

church whose bells rang in the Christmas Inorning described

in the poem as thQ last of poor Aubrey's hard struggle withfate.

These circumstances have, no doubt, much enhanced my

pleasure in' reading Mr. Jephson's poem, but it possesses

merit sufficient to be independent of the mere intereRt ofassoci..tion.

I trust that the esteemed Author of this little work may

find. an appreciative Public.R. D. P. H.

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EARLYI.

HISTORY AND

EXPERIENCE.

.. Full many It gem of purest ray serene,The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;

Full many a flower' is born to blush unscen,And waste its sweetness o?- the desert air."

-Gray'8 Elegy:

The dear J:>anks of Avon! how sweet to re,callThe scenes of my youth so enchanting;

When I wandered alone, at night's silent. fall,'Twas pleasure' replete, nought was wanting.

'Tis past! but the mem'ry still clings to my heart,As pn a bright day in September,

Rapt! I stood on the, cliffs, the sight made me, start .

Volith thrills I sh.allever rem~mber.

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Hush'd! I gazed on the scene quite hoary withage

The breeze softly round me careering;And kissing famed objects on hist'ry's broad page,

The Lion and Cave just appearing.Deep, deep down below me and stretching afar

Flowed Avon, 'midst scenes ever changing,'Twixt rich wooded margins enchantingly fair

And trees th;J.t were deftly o'erhanging-

Caressing the wavelets, as passing awayTo the Severn,-gracefully winding;

Dim shadows creating, where nymphs love to playTo th' music of spheres they are minding.

The trees, clothed in Autumn's rich golden tints,Were moved by the breezes upspringing;

Sadly filling the heart with foreboding hintsOf decay! their colours were bringing.

A thought of the Sculptor flashed over my mind,Whose feet had stood -where mine were stand­

ing:Of hardships most bitter, fate doomed him to find

Though possessed of genius commanding.The SCULPTOR ?-JOHN AUBREY! a waif and a stray

From the ocean of life just emerging, \With ardour aspiring to fame's great highway....,...

Alas! on grim poverty verging.

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A native of Bristol, perhaps gentle,-heFor the dame,whQ had his upbringing

The son of a merchant declared him to be,Whose wife of consumption died ling'ring.

At day school, acquiring a smatt'ring of lore,.A pprenticed to sculptor-profession;

His talents developed, he longed to exploreHis art,-for its richest possession.

In the interests of Art, the State with one voiceA prize of one hundred pounds offer

Forsculpturein marble-theme, artist's own choice,And all might compete who thought proper.

Young Aubrey sat thoughtful communing with self,To compete his instincts inclining;

His ardent soul longing, but wanting the pelf,Sigh'd deeply, and sadly repining.

Before him, lay mallet and chisel unused,Sicilian marble too-.,-certain ;

The block is not suited, he inwardly mused,And gazed through the half-opened curtain.

Now tossing his long hair from off his fine brow,He mused on the heavens in silenc~;

Then down on the narrow dense alleys below,And sigh'd o'er his beautiful science.

In ivy-bound window, he pensively view'dA lark in its cage soundly sleeping;

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\\Those pinions were wearied by 'efforts ren'ew'dFor freedom to soar! its ow~ keeping. "

" Ah! sweet little songster, how blest in your cot, I'

Though a prisoner-yet, you can warbleWhile I mourn and despair o'er iny wretched lot

In vain for my Carrara marble."

While deeply despairing, behold! as a dream'The subject he chose stood before him;

T'was " Fata Morgana" of art the great queenAlluring to, fame-if not ruin,

For his weak fragile frame and greatness of heartTo battle with life were ill-mated;

While" Fata Morgana" great symbol of-artDemands strength and skill unabated:

"How vain is my struggle, fareweli to my d~eam,

Of fame! in the archives of science;My marble's unsuited to work out my theme.

To fate! I can ne'er bid defiance."No marble,p.or where with to purchase have I,

And my purpose! how can I forego?" a! how h~rd is my fate," he said with a sigh,

As he' paced 'his sniall room to and fro. .'If ; " ...J J.. ~ .-' • • ,

• r _ r . r .."

He now tookddoJ.rn'h,ish'at,'prep~re4for;J.!3troli," .To calm hiS' pcr'turb'fM 'iii-d] d:ia:fed(spi~it ;~ '.

I may yet, be lucky, l?!gJl!d hil? inmo~t~ql!l, , I

If endued with tru~ :A\1Js.t',scll1~riJ,

II,I

Through dark narrow alleys he wended his ways,All through Redc1iff, by St. Mary's Church;

His mind brooding darkly on ending his days,And so-leave all his cares in the lurch.

Up at the tower glancing bewildered, he thoughtOf th' boy poet Chatterton! sleeping;

Whorush'dondeathrashly,for fame dearly bought,And threw life away not worth keeping.

Sigh'd Aubrey reflecting, "'lIe sure was not fitTo battle with life and disaster;

And weak is that servant who feareth to quit,The service of such a hard master."

Better counsels prevailed, ,'as up' hill he stroll'd(Hill Brandoit) for famed ~hady'walking;

II Lady Bountiful" there her charities doledTo poor boys and'girls, loudly talking.

They all appeared happy, while frisking about,As free from 'ail, forethought as trouble;

Their bounties recei\iing, ne'er stopping to doubt,'While he! longed in vain for his marble.

On the grass, at his feet, he threw himself down,The past, present, future to p,on,der; ..d

And like other dr:eilp.1ers ofhr'fam~d" reIlPly:I1 ~

His "El Dora,~o'" was th~wond~r.,[ nil"~: rj,if[

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Yet, but one way he saw, to that sunny spot,And that way-,-both arduous and trying,

To labour for wages, full scant all he got,Privation and want, too, while plying.

So to his kind master he straight would repair,Though his sensitive nature recoiled;

Would he for the marble security bear?Ifunwilling ! his hopes would be foiled.

Yet, true to his purpose, he rose to his feet,And the hill he swiftly descended j

T'was hope, howe'er transcient that made hissteps fleet,

As though all his troubles were ended.

So, Scotland's defender, who fought for her right,Her homes, and her liberties-flying-

From foes, and from danger, found rest for a nightIn a barn! every foe defying.

The morning rose brightly on Bruce's retreat,Who mourning his recent disaster;

A spider saw climbing with his nimble feetUp to his abode in the rafter.

When his footing he miss'd fell prone on theground,

Again and again vainly climbing;Alas! six times he failed, but on the next found

Himself in his snug lair reclining.

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So poor Aubrey would climb, as on his way homeTo inquire and ~a.ke some arrangement;

And then! would his master his surety become'His way would be open and pleasant.

Then shortening his space as home he drew nigh,Through ~ollegeGreen straight his way taking;

While crossing the drawbridge, an old friendpass'd by

Inquiries at once began making." What! myoid friend Aubrey 'tis long since we

met,And how has the world you been using ?"

" Not well" (said he sadly), " but complain as yet'Tis useless," and turned aside musing.

" I have only myself to 'care for you know(" I know it, ap.d that self needs keeping,~)

That my art is myself t'were little to show,My meat and drink, waking or sleeping."

" Relinquish the mallet and chisel I say,And like me commence making.money;

Strive and toil as you may, you'll ne'er make it payTo get bread, much less milk and honey." -

"No! a thousand times no! 1 love my d~ar Art(Art! fiddlesticks! what, are you bet~er}

Not one in a thousand.succeeds for his part;')" I may be that om to the letter."

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Thus saying,iyoung Aubrey unfolded his. scheme,And warmly appealed to his Jdndn?ss ;

"But how, for you marble; 'wherein: lies' yourthe:me ?" .-'

(Said h!s f~iend),.and pitied his b~indness,I . " ," • ' f- r

"Ah J that is the question," ,the Sculbt9r 'rep~ied,And turn~d to his friend fainfly smili~g ;' ..

" I c0uld ne'er stoop to ask, and risk being denied,'Tis folly, myself thus. beguiling." '

" Say not, it is folly, dismiss every f~ar,To the merchan t I'll take you at o~ce ';

And I'll be your surety, he dwells somewhere near;So the business is fixed for the' nonce." ,",'.

Theirstepsnow retracing,thedrawbridge recross~d;

Down Limekiln Lane* straight their way taking;Where the merchant they saw, and no time was

lost, ,

E're the .marble its way home ,was making.­Mr. Lawford, the 'merchant. had scarce closed

,his door, . ~, I

On th,e twain now slowly departing,E're the Sculptor'S full heart commenced its

outpourOf gratitude-as th~y were.parting.

* Now called St. ,George's.Road.

Dear friend, did'st thou ever this luxury proveIts love, thanks and joy sweetly blending?

When burdened with 'sorrow, t'seemed no powercould l move

Thy Spirit -!,i~h grieJ lo~ly bend~ng ?How relief was at hand, tz:anscendmg thy dreams,

Fr~ni a s~urc'e as little exp"eCted'; -Heart gr~teful1y swelling 'neath hope's bright'ning

beams,For blessings thou once hadst rejected.

.,' ._) t '.

Fata

II.

NEW FRIENDS.Mor(Jana Foreshadowed.

b

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" You are working too hard, confinement and dust,Are too much for your: weakly structure;

The prize makes you anxious, as doubtless it must,'Tis wrong to risk present for future."

"Indeed," replied Aubrey, with thanks to his friend," The labour to me's not o'er trying j"

But Lawford r'eflecting, mucu fearing the end,And consciously felt he was dying.

" Come," pay us a visit, "the merchant exclaimed,Your presence will give us much pleasure;

Chan~e of air will be good, let Sunday be named,Remember! that health is a treasure.

My place of abode is 110t distant you know,By Cook's Folly, and near to Sea Mills."

He gave his consent, but would rather forego­His visit; as though fraught with dire ills.

If the truth must be told, the merchant had seen.And admired the Sculptor's rare merit;

And thoughtfully anxious to throw a bright beamO'er the gloom he seemed to inherit.

Time glided on quicldy, and Sunday soon came,When Aubrey went forth on his ramble;

By cliffs idly sauntered, he'd oft done the same,And as school-boy, many a scamhie.

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Three months passed away, and the block

shapely grew, .Of intent and design showed meamng;

That all who inspected (a choice-favoured few),Saw be'l.uty and symmetry gleaming..

His weekly instalments the Sculptor paId on,At the cost of great self-denial;

But great master passion, whose aim. is but one,To conquer! will e'en brave the tnal.

To live in a garret, fare hard and toil much,Was surely experience most tryi~g;

His fortitude taxing, but genius is suchT'must conquer! all hardships defying.

But old time told a tale on Aubrey's young clay,His features grew anxious and weary;

That Lawford, the merchant, much startled one

day,Cried, " Aubrey! this life is too dreary."

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The'morning rose lovely, the air fresh and cool,He passed on his way blithe and cheery,

D

IS

As he cross'd Durdham Downs, like boy fresh fromscbool,

Felt life no more lonesome and weary.His soul full 3-£ beauty rtIsh'd f9rth to its kin

Tbe ueautif's of nature all smiling j

l:iweet sounds, lovely vistas, all, all he dmnk in,Sweet moments I all care thus beglriling.

More exquisite pleasure was yet to be founu,As Dingleside now caught his vision,

An old gabled mansion, with ivy all bound;Sweet flowers seemed to mark each di vision.

T'was A utullln-and favourite late flowers wcre inbloom-

Passion flowers-virginia, creeper;Late loses and my I tIe to wither full soon,

Though careful the hand of the keeper.

Raund an extensive lawn, of beauty and show,A sweet briar hedge ran most refreshing;

Not high and forbidding, but gentle and low,Yielding sight, and scent wiLhout pressing.

Smooth gr.avelled drive winding its way to ehe porchViuPco;'el'ed-luxnriantly creeping j

,Up this' path went Auurey, while fear stole a marcbO'er his p,0wers-in dreamland nIl steeping.

His guest, Mr. Lawford, was ready to greet'Vith a warm and flatt'l'ing reception.

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"'Tis 11 gloriou's place" (scarce sure of his feet),Sigll'd Aubrey, "a home of perfection. 11

Conducting bim kindly to neat morning room,In which a fail' lady was reading j'

'Twas tbe merchant's OWll wife, fl. waiting thus BoonThe stranger, her husband was leading. .

"Delighted to see you II (extonding her lland)," My husband of yOll is oft speaking j

He says you are clever, brlt grieves the demandYOllr zeal on- your fl'ail bealth is making...

Quite struck with his bearing, the ease of his style,Comporting 'Yith articled illaSlJll 1

Reflecting, she questioned=--uut in the m\:anwhilaPressed vi3its-as he found occasion.

The day with its pleasures too soon wore away,And Aubrey <prepared to be Jeaving-

Yet lingere:!! still anxious to lengthen bis stay,His breast wi th emotions II (lheaving.

When, lo! his attention was caught by a soundFrom the conservatOl y hard by;

And, on turning his head, his Jreal't gave a boundAs a charming young lady drew nigh.

" My daughter," said Lawford, in'short formal style,The poor Sculptor heard not the sentence;

Sa struck with her bea"ty, a stranger to gaile,He loved! and ne'er dreamt of repentance.

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Her's was a rich beauty, of no common typ6iShapely head, neck, and bosom sublime;

Hel" featul"es were perfect, her loveliness ripe,Aubrey loved! but alas! to repine.

Her dark violet eyes, full lidded, long fringed,Smiling mon th, with lips full and' ruddy j

A model for Rembrandt, on fancy full winged,She became the Sculptor"s life study.

But her crowning beauties were masses of hairOf varying 'tints, brown and golden;

Which fell from arched temples surpassingly fair,A chain! by which Aubrey was bolden.

This vision so lovely, e'er hauntp-d tbe mindAnd heart of the Sculptor henceforward;

Small wonder, the statue when fini5hed, to findA transcript of lovely Miss Lawford.

III.

AUBREY'S DREAM.

Oll! ye, who dwell in tents of ease,Nursed in the lap of plenty j

On heds of down your senses please,Nor fear your coffers empty.

Come lise to me,'Vhile I a tale of sorrow tell,

And give the key.

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'Tis not your pleasures I'd condemn,Nor. grudge their sweet enjoyment j

But while you've plenty, think of menWho pine, and lack employment

In winter's cold;A tithe of your. abundance spare,

T'will bless your gold.

3

Think of young artists struggling bal'dFor broad! a bare existence;

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Hinder'd, robbed of their just rewardFor lack of merest pittance.

O! think of them,Who'd scorn to beg a pauper's dole­

Tbey are true men.

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o ! think of such, and search them out,Should gems of art be buried 1

Let kindness gllide, dismiss all doubt,N or let your search be hurried;

Speak them kindly,Doing this-but do it now-you

Act divinely.

1

'Twas Ohristmas time, and frost and snowHad paralyzed all nature;

Its rivers, lakes, and lands were nowIronbound in every quarter.

2

Trade was stagnant, and food was scant,Famine and fever wasted;

Damp fi~eless hearths, and craving want,And sm"iiing prospects blasted.

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Misfortune seldo~ comes alone,Tbe present ills to blacken;

Strikes prevailed! and many a homeOnce bright, begins to dlil'ken.

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The blow most feared, now fell on Gm.y,Young Au brey's careful master'

Just three weeks' prior to Ohristn::as day·No work 1~ O! dil'e d.isast~r.' c

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T'wil.s such to AUbrey-cruel fate,For he was slowly starving;

He sought work early--'-sought it late­At night pursued his carving.

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Of cash he'd saved a little store,That store, alas! how slender;

000" shilling lett J he could no mOl'sHis weekly payment tende~.

'7

Sigb'd he-" alas! no way I see,Of empty coffer filI~ng;

My statute yields nor' pay nor fee;Reduqed J to my last shilling I"~

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'With heavy heart and humbled prideAn invite he accepted;

To spend a day at Dingleside,And C!Iristmas day elected.

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He felt a ~tatemerit should be made,With next instalment given j

His means had failed for lack of trade,He sigh'd I-but knew he'd striven.

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That night" when all were h u,shed in sleep,Save piercing winds loud wailing j

Snow in places some three feet deep,Ab~ve, dark ~louds were sailing.

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No stars could in the sky be seen,The moon was but a crescent;

The street lamps gave a sickly gleam:"Emblem of sorrow present.

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. E'en then poor Aubrey in hili ro~m

Was toiling at his statue;As if to expedite his doom

Was culminating virtue.

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13The cold was piercing", clothing scant,

And hunger I;inched him sorely;A throbbing pulse, a sen'le of want

Were his companions hourly.

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He paused at times to check or quellHis congh, by Ull'lt affected;

His work so far had prospered wellTo cheer, but carO dejected.

15At lAngth he laid his tools aside,

Relieved Leyond expression j

A day of rest, and DinglesideTo thought, were in possession.

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On old worn couch he laid him downTo rest-perchance to sl~mber ;

While crowding thulights his senses ~ro~n,On BubjeGts without number.

11He thought of artists li~e himself,

And wondered while he queried;If all felt want and need of pelf,

Of life, and all else wearied.

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And musing thus-in that lone hourFelt sudeten langour creeping

O'er all-like some narcotic powerIn lethe his senses stee!Jirig..

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He slept not, yet he seemed to dl'eamOf mystic pleasnre stealing;

When, 10! a wond'rous fairy sceneRoused aU'his powers of feelirig.

'20A lovely garden, passin's fair,

Spread out before his vision,Jl,lysterioLls vistas past compare

Gilded by sun just risen.

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Dim arcades of ethereal green,Deliciously exciting;

Majestic fruit trees grew between,With fruU's-rich'and inviting.

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Birds of gorgeous plumage flittingHere and thllre in sunny gleam;

While soft music so bewitchingStreamed through all the glorious Ilcene.

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Onward still, the ID)lsic stE'alingSoftly low among tbfl flowers;

Now exbulting heaveuward pealing,Raptu're fiUing sunny hours.

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Sweet perfumes tho senses lnlling,Violet, rose, and jessamine;

Yielding sweetness withtiut culling,Bliss for gods of taste divine.-

25Still, as yet no buman creature

Had appeared upon the scene;Blissful cal m its one great feature,

Odorous sweets its one great theme.

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Now! a sight of passing beautySweet enthralled his ardent gaze;

Bearing intbeir arms his statue,Lovely nyinphs, in mystic maze.

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On they came like white-robed fairiesTo the place where Aubrey lay';

Lovely ,as the fairest houries'Of Mahomet'8 fabled da.y.

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'l'he sta~ue now the fays erectTo the sound of music sweet;

While defely they the work Lisect'Vith flowers fresh from head to feet.

29'Vhile this gem of ar~ they're praising,

Lauding high the artist too;Aubrey, to his feet upraising,

Begs theiL' fulsome praise forego.

30When, lo! the statne f»lIs to earth,

Dashed to atoLUs wi\hout lands;Abortive as untimely birth,

Aubrey stunned in honor stands. ,

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Changed the scene, yet onward dreaming,Ho\vling desert meets his eye;

'Midse of which dark 1'ivel'S gleaming,Fitful tempests wail and sigh.

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Like solemn music faJIing on his ear,The mystic voices chanted this refrain;

" All things must perish-all things pure and fair." And fade forgotten in the midst of pain."

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POVERTY.:c. ::

He awoke! and the sounds that first caught his earWero the hells all joyously pealing,

To welcome old Christmas, the king of the year,To his sore heart, soothing and healing.

" Little Peg 1" he 'exclaimed, on opening the doorTo the pet of lodging house-kel'per ;

Who came thus to invite like all kindly poorTo breakfast, if not t~o late sleeper.

"Dear Peg, are you happy to see Christmas day tChristmas boxes, are they forthcom_ing 1"

"Oh ! yes, sir, my mother, whate'er is to payN e'er forgets me, for she is loving."

"Well, child, there's another," and he took from theshelf

A parcel, while Pet he was kissing;" Please, sir, may I take it to mother's own selft

Mmit be g~ne, for fear I'll be missing.

But, first, may I Gpen the parcel? she cried,To see what/the paper's concealing ?,.

When,'ibehold ! a wax doll, its eyes opened widePeeped~forth-all its beauties revealing.

" O! how pretty, she mused, as folding again.I've had one gift-this is another;

'Twas very kind of you, and thanks for the same,And ,now I ,will take it to mother."

She took it to mother, 'whose soul deeply moved,By an act so gentle and loving,

And that to her darling, she arden'tly loved,With tears her eyes filled to o'erflowing.

"Can't be done! poor fellow, not e'en for yoursake;

Give gifts, such as this, that.'s worth having;But bless me;' no dlffe! Qoes poverty make

To them as has good h~arts, though starving."-- , 't "I

" Well,- well! ·what a pity, that the like of himAint rich-O ! whrlt gaud he'd be showing;

All the poor he'd find out, the. starving bring inHad he but the money fc.r doing.'"

She dried her tears quickly, which, 'spite ofrestraint,

Would persist in copiously flowing;Ascended the staircase, heart full accents quaint,

Thank'd Aubrey in eloquencF: glowing.

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" And might I, be so bold as ask you to takeA bit 0' my plain Christmas dinner?

'Tis poor, but you're welcome, if but for Peg's sake,'Tis true, sir! as I am a sinner!' ,

" I'm sure of its truth, but spend .the day out-I've promised, and now about starting;

" My blessi~g go wid you, the wide world about,And a happy Ghristmas at parting."

On his way went A l!brey, along Redcliff·street,St. Mary's bells cheerfully chiming;'

O'er snow-covered pavement, through keen driv­ing sleet,

Pursuing his course unrepining.At Clifton, he'd promised the merchant to meet, For a drive tci his pleasant dwelling;To enjoy Christmas day, in converse so sweet,

With friends that he loved beyond telling.

The drive was refreshing, imposing the scene,Unrivalled, the snow queen was reigning;

Snow dlifts in wild gra,ndeur,and holiiesdark greenIn contrast, red bprries were gleaming.

That drive was remembered, when prostrate helay

In sickness and sorrow repining;,The icicled branches, snow-covered each spray,

Like a pall o'er nature declining.

Earthly things have an end, so had this cold drive,And quickly home comforts they're tasting.

A warm cozy parlour, sweet domestic hiveThought Aubrey-O! that it were lasting.

But sweeter by far was Irene's sunny smiles,Mr. Lawford's accomplished young daughter;

That A. ubrey, though conscious oflove's fatal wiles,Like a lamb, was led to the slaught.er.

It was night! and the time of parting drew nigh,But still he was loath to be moving;

With Irene conversing, 'twas bliss from on high,The essence of which he was proving.

Communing with her, which he'd oft done 0f late,Had become confidential, in truth;

He now ventured to say, how blest was his fate,Such friends to possess in his youth.

Said Irene in reply, " your talents are grand,"Though shyly-this statement advancing;

" That scores would most gladly take you by thehand,

Your friendship and interests enhancing.You are ciever and good, all readily own,, Your talen ts dear papa's oft praising.""I may have some tll.lent, but goodness have none,

And fear I ne'er shaH, that's worth having."

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Quickly changing his tone, from gay to the grave," 'Tis all very well to have talent;

But, alas! it you're' poor the wor!d calls youknave,

Charged with sin! treated with scorn andcontempt."

co I-I-know it is hard, low murmur'd Irene,"The office at soother availing.

co Ay hard," exclaimed Aubrey, with bitternesskeen, .

O'er aU his emotions prevailing.

" Ay, 'tis hard! to be poor, and bitter its fruits,The ban of excommunication;

From all,that is pleasant and precious it shuts,Ay the ban! of every priva,tion.

. You would rise in the world? but this fatal barEach nerve paralyzes at starting;

To be " good" your aspire, as your guiding starStill under the ban you are smarting.

From love's motive power you're longing to rise,With yours, a heart gentle, believing,

.A las! only in dreams, this fool's paradiseIs yours-every other deceiving."

co O! nil desperandum, she gently replied,Some day you may re~p all your pleasure i" .

II Ah ! never 1" sigh'd Aubrey, "to me that's demed,I'm poor! that's the bar to my treasure.' c

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Of one prize'it robs me, more precious than all,Than riches or fame, or world's glory; -

The love of an angel, mine, ne'er can I call,~ In me t'were presumption and folly."

Miss Lawford was startled by his fervid tone,The truth o'er her gentle he!irt breaking;

Bewildered, withdrew to her own private room." He loves me 1" her woman's heart waking.

That night, when the guests were departed andgone,

And all had retired to calm slumber,Sweet Irene's troubled thoughts, when in her lone

room,Were Aubrey! and love without number.

Long, long did she ponder th' events of the day,Afraid of the truth o'er her stealing;

" I love him! I love him !" and plelting away'To tears- gen'rous, soothing, and healing.

Poor Aubrey strolled homeward ,his thoughts in ,awhirl,

Betwixt love, sorrow, grief, and regret;}-Ie sigh'd as he thought of the beautiful girl,

I' And poverty! 'divides us..... as yet."

v.

HE HAS FOUND REST.1

As time wore on, the statue grew,Morgana's form stood out to view,Proportions fair and rich and.new

So like his dream;Just cause for joy, but cares pursue

With deadly gleam.

2Instalments now he could not pay,For business failed from day to day,He thought it best his case t.o lay

Before his friend;He knew not of a better way

, . This grief to end.

3To his surprise and great reliefThe merchant cancelled all-in briefOf all his cares this was the chief

To honour true;

The merchant's kindness soothed his griefAnd help'd him too.

4A cot he owned in Limekiln Lane­At hi" disposal placed the same-Rent free! "would he allow the claim"

" A friend would make,To ease a burden, soothe a pain"

For dear love's sake.

5

There are, who, when they gifts bestow,Would have th~ir,poor recipients knowThe depths? to ;hich their favours flow

To meet their case,The wounded soul would fain forego

As insult base.

6There Aubrey spent some happy hours,In dreams of love and sunny bowers,With Irene! yet with all his powers

N e'er told his love;To him, a tangled wreath ot flowers

From heaven above,

7'One day, in deep and silent mood,Lost to all sights and sounds he stood,

37

Unconscious that dear friends and goodDid, knocking, wait;

Aroused, though in no lively mood,He 'oped the gate.

8" A pretty fellow! you, to keep II

"Your friends" (said Lawford) "on the peep j"

" W.ere you from home? or did you sleep ?"" It would so seem ;"

"Not sleeping-but in thought was deep.", " And I might dream."

9" Somefriends I've brought, your workto view;Your masterpiece J creatiori new!A gem! to which all praise is due,

Your IDOL! eh?In grace and form, surpassed by few

I'm proud to say."

10Matchless, indeed! ,the form appears,The fruit of care, of want anq tears;Creative art~peyond his years '

. Not fertil~ brain;Martyr, to art! III future years

Will be his 11a,11'}e.

11"FATA MORGANA!" form sublime,Her queenly radiant beauties shine,As if the work of hand divine

Beyond compare;Mould perfection, propqrtiolls fine,

All grand and fair.

12As 'lighting fl"om the clouds she came,Her right foot lightly trod the plain iBright goddess of undying fame

From cerial car;In her righ t hand a magic cane*

And glittering star.

13Her contour airy, graceful, light,Perennial day-and yet of night,For crescent moon shone clear and bright

U poI,1 her head;Reflection from the fount of light

To whom it led.

14So human genius proves its source,'Tis earthly, yet divine its force,Painting, sculpture, whate'er its course

The end the same;* Or 'Vand.

\£19

'rhe picture breathes, marbles discourseIn living flame.

H,One of the friends, in great surprise(As on two forms he fixed his eyes) ;With lifted hands! amazed he cries,

"What do I see ?"." The same in height, in shape and size,"

It cannot be I

16 .Sweet Irene's was the speaking form,Whose charms beamed forth like roseate morn.Beauties so rare, nought could adorn ;

.Mute marble there,Assailed her cousin's heart by storm

So like-the pair;

17Poor Aubrey, with uneasy grace,Exclaimed! "can you resemblance traceTo ?-" cousin mine !-Miss Lawford's face

" And future wife ?"Enough! and Aubrey reeled apace-

" His future wife II"

. 18Th' auspicious day, he hoped, might come,When he could call Irene his own,

4°To bless a future happy home.

Delusion all !Nought left to hope, but dying groan

And funeral pall !

19Just like the statue of his dreamStruck down by hand, nor heard nor seen;As by the light'ning's deadly gleam

HIS IDOL FELL!

Crumbled to dust! 0, anguish keen" His 'funeral knell !

20So, traveller, lone, in desert drear,Oppressed by hunger, grief, arid fear,Sees phantom cities and good cheer

Before him stand;A false mirage! to disappear

'Midst burning sand.

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THE END.----*')-='='0«=>_.~---

1The end has come, as come it must,When all sha:I1 mingle with the dust;To such as toil for daily crust -

Oft a great boon!To all! who in their riches trust,

I t comes too soon.

2Come, reader, mine! behold a scene,T'may fill thy soul with anguish keen,Thou hast a soul, canst judge I ween,

Deductions make?T'wixt men who li.ve, and men who dream,

And lessons take?

3Behold! the Sculptor prostrate lie,Whose spirit waits aloft to fly,Victim" of want and grief to die;

Whose wasted formProclaims his dissohltion nigh

To man's last bourn.

42

4His large blue eyes,' more hollow growIl,The ravage of consumption own j

His hollow cheeks and haggard form,And long thin hands;

Sad relics of life's scathing storm,His numbered sands..

5One morn, the merchant on his way,His usual visit, called to pay j

Had done, e'en all that in him layFor his poor friend;

-But now the doctor's skill gives wayTo hope! "an end.

6This sickening truth full soon to learn,His daughter felt, with deep concern,Begged to remain till his return

From business straight;To cheer him, her true heart did yearn,

Whate'er his fate.

7When all 'alone, Miss Lawford said," Are you better" (trembling afraid)," It would.be well, if change were made

" To Dingleside j"

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" It might," but under death's dark shade,He turned and sigh'd.

8"N0 more shall I my sick bed leave,"Till borne to my untimely grave,"A boon, I daily, hourly, crave

". To be set free ;"" For this! all death's fiercfl darts I'd brave,

"Blest boon to me."

9Deep silence now fell on the pair,That 'pale in death, this bright and fair j

What burning thoughts aDd mingled careMust move each heart;

Her's hopeful still, his calm despair,They soon must part.

10The silence first the Sculptor broke;­" Is it April?" (but faintly spoke;Movements fitful, as one just woke

From troubled dream;His anxious thoughts he could not cloke

On his great theme.)

11"The third l" Miss Lawford quick replied."Ah !'tis the day that must decide

H With whom the victory shall abide,"" And who has won j"

Deeply moved-he faintly cried," Am .J: that ONE ?"

12Miss Lawford saw, with deep concern,The Sculptor's deep emotions burn j

And thought to give his thoughts a turnTo gent'ler mood j

Begged she might read, he'd calmness learn,T'would do hill). good.

13"Yes-thanks. the Lotus eaters read ;"" And why?" said she with hands outspread;" It speaks of endless rest!" he said,

With pathos deep;She read, when book aside she laid,

, Re'd fall'n asleep.

14And then, with thoughts, by love p~ssess'dWith flowers the window deftly dress'd,For him each flower she sweet caress'd

Her love, all told j

.While midday sun the flowers impress'dWith gems of gold.

J.....45

15

,With deep drawn sigh, the sleeper wakes,A glance at dark blue sky he takes,And smiling, said, " that blue of makes

My darkness bright j"

" It cheers my gloom, dark spells it breaks,And makes them light."

16

" But, O! I long to be at rest,"" From wearied frame, and mind distress'd ;""From blighted hopes, by life oppress'd

To realms mote fair ;"" My spirit longs to be undress'd,"

" Their bliss to share."

17Another pause, and silence deep,'Midst struggling thoughts, hefain would keep;Like toiling hard up mountain steep,

But all in vain j

To ask a question, vent'rous leap,His point to gain.

18

" Is not your marriage drawing near?"I,' Marriage! (she cried), what do I hear?"

" Not e'en engaged, is that not clear?"" But you refer,'"

"To cousin mine, what he said here". "·As my suitor."

19" 'Tis true, my father gave consent,"" Friends look forward to the event,"" But I refused, on freedom bent,"

" I hated men;"" I could not, dare not, but resent"

His freedom then.

20Oblivious for a moment he,O'erwhelmn'd to find that she was free;With swimming eyes, lie scarce could see;

Told all his love­Love! tender, true as love should be,

And sealed above.

21"I would have kept my secret on,"" Still undisclosed, and life was gone ;"" But' now I die, whate'er may come"

" I'll tell you all ;"" How I have loved, and sigh'd alone,"

" No tongue can tell."

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The story old they no\\, beginFor she has told her love to him;And deeply they its ,bliss drink in,

o ! bliss supreme;But death looks through partition thin,

And mars their dream.

23" And' you'd have kept your secret on: "" Not knowing I, too! loved alone,"" Might to lilY grave, unheeded gone."

" And loved in vain ?"Sweetly blushing, subdued in tone,

'As though in pain.

24" Ah! after all" (he strove to say)," 'Tis better so, whoe'er say nay,"" Had I survived, some future day"

"It might have been;"" Chance might have opened up a way'1.

" To my fond dream."

25Thus, in that quiet room they talked;While sunset glories round them walked;But sad to say, grim death there stalked,

O! tableau strange !.

Betrothed! no thought of future balked• True love's e~change.

26And who shall say they were not one?That true affection's power was gone?The golden link of love alone

Had joined them ever;And sooI} to heaven-:"'-a chain become

Ne'er more to sever.

27'Late in the day good news arrive,The m~rchant, with the Sculptor's prize;Displays the cheque before his eyes-

One hundred pounds;To 'gratulate he also tries,

But grief confounds.

28So bending low, said, with a sigh, - ." Are you not pleased?" "Yes !-yes-for I" Know weil-t'will serve me till I die." l

" It can't be long i"

" Then, farewell, friends, to fame good bye,"" And REST my song.",

29And yet, the news his soul inflameWith joy! while grief subdues the same,

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49

Calls back to life the flickering flame. Of days gone by ;

'Vhen all his soul was bent on famBNe'er more to dip,

30I::l\\"eet smiles crept o'er his pale, pale faco,

• "Nor shade of sqrrow found a place,'While perfe'ct calm its sweet lines trace,

He softly sigh'd-In touching accents, untold grace

"1'111 SATISFIED! !"

1Now ev'nilJg shades are round them falling,

The Sculptor nes, tq death, death dra,,'n near;J!'aiutlv turning, and feebly calling

" 1\1y darling Irene are you here ?"

2

"Yes! yes! I'm here "-her hot tears flowing­.. As prompt, in his she placed her hancl." O! darling mine! 'tis clarkeI' growing,

Soall shaJI quit this earthly strand."

3" O! say not so," she murmured, gasping,

" AmI must it be! we part SOSOOll ?"" KiBS m~ darling," he sigh'd, as grasping

Her trembling hanel, his richest boon.

5°

4.llltl silence dcep, intensely tryiug,

N ow fell upon the loving pair;" One hst sweet kiss! dear! I ItlU dying !"

"But happy I h:1:ve Won your dear."

5

Then, as the fin3t pale moonbcallls glinting,Fell soft!yo'er St. 1I1ary's dome;

And Orion, not his brightness stintingUpon our planet brightly shone.

6

'1'he Sculptor's soul was freely ebbingAs buoyant life wave frol11 the shore; .

Aml all tIle sands of time gems lea,ving,Gems, everlasting to explore.

'When spring time came­Sweet wild flowers blooming,

Diffusing their dreamy odours roundIn low lone spot*Sad contrast glooming,

Is a ncwly-raised, neat turfy mouncl.

.. A small church.yurd in Somersetshire.

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There Aubrey rests,In dear bought glory.

1\0 more shall sorrow or grief molest;Small marble cross-Tells his brief story

,~With this short legend, "HE H.!.S· FOUND REST."

)1:••• -:

XllCl, now, I close this truthful story.Of genius true all must admire;

Not counting ought on this world's glory,:Much less of true poetic fire.

Such as thou art, my homely measure­I selid thee forth, thy way to find.

Uy object's gained, shouldst thou give pleasure,J...nd but one truth should touch the mind.

THE END.

HENRY J EPHSON.