Collected works of j s f.., p.907
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 907
THE END
The Poetry Collections
‘The City of Leeds from the Meadows’ by Joseph Rhodes, 1825 — in his early twenties, Fletcher moved to Leeds, where he worked on the ‘Leeds Mercury’, using the pseudonym ‘A Son of the Soil’; he later secured a position as special correspondent for the ‘Yorkshire Post’, covering Edward VII’s coronation in 1902.
Leeds today — it is the largest city in the county of West Yorkshire in Northern England, approximately 170 miles north of central London.
The Juvenile Poems of Joseph S. Fletcher (1879)
CONTENTS
PREFACE.
THE PASHA’S DAUGHTER
CANTO THE FIRST.
CANTO THE SECOND.
CANTO THE THIRD
THE BRIDE OF VENICE
CANTO THE FIRST.
CANTO THE SECOND.
CANTO THE THIRD.
THE MONODY OF LYCAEUS
THE PASTORAL OF THYRSIS.
AFTER HIS DEATH
CHILDE HAROLD.
THE PARADISE LOST.
The first edition’s title page
TO THE MEMORY OF
George Gordon Noel — Lord Byron
This Book is dedicated by one who, while observing his virtues, would be blind to his vices.
PREFACE.
THE FOLLOWING POEMS are the effusions of one who has not yet completed his seventeenth year. He is quite conscious that in them the public will find much to condemn, but he also hopes that a little may be found which will be deemed worthy of their praise and approval. The poems have no special claim to favour, save that they owe their existence and publication to none but the author, who, while inviting the fullest and most accurate criticism, would beg to remind his readers that, in the words of Lord Byron: —
“’Tis pleasant, sure, to see one’s name in print,
A book’s a book, although there’s nothing in’t.”
Darrington, Yorks.
August, 1879.
THE PASHA’S DAUGHTER
THE DAUGHTER OF a Pasha being beloved of a young Christian was suspected by her father and the pair were seized at their meeting place one evening. The lady suffered the customary punishment of infidelity, which is death by drowning, the lover contrived by some means to make his escape.
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
SHE morning has broken in beauty and splendour
Above the fair forests that watch by the town,
The sunbeams have kissed with embraces most tender
The clouds of the darkness which wander far down
Where the shadows of night-time half flee from the sky
Where the grey robes of sunrise sweep carelessly by,
Where o’er the high mountains there riseth the sun,
While clothed in its freshness the day is begun.
II.
The day is begun and the shadows of morning
Now blush into brightness, now melt into smiles,
The stars that have watched for the birth of the dawning
Are fled from its presence among the blue isles
Which float through the heavens toward the far west,
Where the night that is wearied lies longing for rest,
The voice of the city the silence will break
When after long slumbers the sleeping awake.
III.
A sound is heard along the creek,
The rippling of some light caique
Which passing onward stands away
Where ocean points the safer bay.
The seaman who has manned it, now
Rests on his oar with pensive brow,
And watching landward marks the line
Of cliffs that with the morning shine.
Fair is the scene; but twilight dim
Hath made it fairer far to him,
When night clouds falling thick and fast
Are emblems of the days gone past.
He marks the early morning star
Half hidden in its white symar
Where the still lingering shades of night
Are battling with the rays of light,
They break — they struggle — now ’tis past,
The morning rose on Greece at last.
IV.
The seaman spreads the snowy sail,
And, turning slowly to the gale,
He passes down the stream to where
The Pasha’s divan meets his eye,
All lazily he wanders by
That floating structure of the air
Above the dark pomegranates shining,
Its marble outline clear defining
The minarets above the wall
Rising on high, yet seeming to fall.
He sees the flowers that overhang
The balconies from whence they sprang,
And, as the winds above him pass
He feels the perfume of the rose,
Falling light as breath that blows
The scent from out the dewy grass.
V.
No sound is heard whose noise might mar
The stillness that is breathed afar,
Save when the drip of flashing oar
Rises or falls athwart the wave —
All, all is silent as the grave
Upon the waves which sweep the shore.
Yet while he mused the seaman heard
The merry music of a bird
Singing beneath the cedars’ shade
The eastern poem that he had made.
The music rouses from his dream
The one who listens on the stream,
He grasps his oar with steady hand,
The waters part before his prow,
And breaking on the stillness now
He glides beneath the shaded strand.
VI.
He anchors by the garden wall
And revels in the quiet shade
That intervening trees have made.
He listens to the water-fall
Whose trickling trembled on his ear
The while it floated towards the weir;
Upon his ear there falls the hum
Of birds and bees where spring-flowers come,
And, yielding to the summer day,
He dreams the morning half away.
VII.
He dreams, and in that hour he sees
The images of other lands,
And, sleeping, in his rest he stands
Where, laden with the scented breeze,
The dark-eyed houris meet his sight,
All dazzled by th’ unwonted light
He strives to break the unreal spell
That like a cloud about him fell.
He half awakes in sudden fear, —
Whence comes this noise which meets his ear;
VIII.
As starts the sleeper from his sleep
A sound is heard along the deep,
And all amazed he wakes to see
The flash of foam and drip of oar,
And, gliding quickly to the shore,
A light boat passing o’er the sea.
IX.
Who stands beside the water there
Watching the boat with blushing cheek,
With half expectant longing air?
* * * * * *
Low are the tones in which they speak,
She half afraid, yet lingering near,
Like one that bears a nameless fear
Yet turns the thought from out the way
With one that holds a sterner sway.
He, pleading as a lover, pleads
His suit with all alluring guile,
Emboldened by the sweetest smile,
Where with love’s quicker sense he reads
Within the eyes too deeply blessed
Her mute consent to his request.
One moment, and towards his breast
The willing maiden now is pressed,
One parting word, and like a dream
The boat is shooting down the stream.
X.
The boat is sped, the lady flown,
The seaman and his bark are gone,
And where the eddying current ran
He took his way to the divan.
His sleep, his dream no longer dwell,
Another tale he has to tell,
What though of earth, too well he knew
The scene he saw was more than true.
* * * * *
XI.
The lady watches from her place
With trembling heart and blushing face,
A token flower is in her hand,
A sparkling tear is in her eye,
Oh! that she might toward him fly
And in some more congenial land
Live in his thoughts, and by his side,
His first, his last, his only bride.
* * * * *
XII.
The Pasha’s brow is dark with thought,
A crimson flush is on his cheek,
He dares not trust himself to speak;
With hurried steps he quickly sought
The eunuch and the guarded harem;
Why is this strange, unknown alarum?
Abdallah shrinks before the eye,
Whose fierceness pierces through his soul
Like sign of coming thunder roll
Above the clouds where it shall lie.
XIII.
One slowly passes o’er the bay
Where he has seen a fairer sight
Than comes in the imagined night,
Of glittering tales and legends gay.
Dark was his brow, his trembling hand
Was playing with a purse’s string,
The torture of remorse had fanned
His burning brain, he drew the ring
From off the sack that held the gold
One look — beneath the wave it rolled.
XIV.
He watched it as it slowly sank,
The waters circling to the bank,
The seaman turned in silent fear
As the dull splash broke on his ear;
The wavelets cleared, with frenzied stare
He looked below and saw it there,
Vain was his wish for darkest night
To hide it from his terrored sight,
One moment passed — with hurried oar
He dashed his boat upon the shore.
CANTO THE SECOND.
I.
THE hour of eve hath come and to his rest
Sinks the red sun beneath the glowing west,
Each purple hill receives the lovely light,
Which brightens all before ’tis hid by night;
Each glittering wave is raised to flashing spray
The while it seeks the last long kiss of day;
One glance he casts upon the heaving deep,
Sends forth one smile, then slowly sinks to sleep.
II.
All yet is still, and on the senses steal
The hour that makes the youthful mind to reel;
Low are the sighs that whispering zephyrs wake,
Sweeter the sounds that on the silence break,
Hushed — chained — enraptured — seems the human heart
As day’s last moments and its cares depart;
It swells — it dies — in accents sweetly rare
The evening song that breaks the twilight air.
III.
“The day is passing away,
The sun is sinking to sleep,
Under the shadowing bay,
Under the western steep,
Under the cloudlets gray,
Under the heaving deep.
“Slowly the day has gone,
Slowly the eve draws near,
Yet shall I look upon
He that my heart holds dear,
Yet shall the time come on,
Yet shall the hour be here.
“Sweet is the twilight air,
Sweet is the scented rose,
Lovely the waters there
Where the cool zephyr blows,
Lovely the flowers so fair
Where the still river flows.
“He promised to come to-night,
His bark is on the sea,
I watch the melting light
Under the cedar tree,
Where the foam drops show so white
My loved one cometh to me.”
IV.
The song died slowly on the air
In cadences so wild and sweet,
In melodies so passing fair
That the still river at her feet
Still slower rolled, still moved the more,
More faintly to the shadowed shore.
Yet on the lingering wind they fall
And birds that sang in madrigal
Listened, and felt their hearts to glow
The while the maiden sang below.
V.
She ceased, and on the lovely night
Silence reposed, and through the bars
Of silvered clouds forth peeped the stars
All shrouded in their robes of white.
VI.
Why watches she the long low line
Whose gleam proclaims the dangers near?
Its sprays beneath the moonlight shine,
And on the sparkling cause of fear
One small speck seems to rise and float
Like movement of some daring boat.
VII.
Who comes from o’er the waters wide
With conscious step of haughty pride?
The dress he wears would say that he
Appeared some careless Galiongeè,
Vain was the show; the garb he wore
The while he landed on the shore
Hid not his creed from out the eyes
Of her who watched in like disguise.
And she who gazed with beating heart
Saw through that dress the one appear
Who made when he himself was near
A heaven from which ‘twere strange to part.
VIII.
He came; and in that hour the sky
Seemed to the maiden more than fair,
And zephyrs which went floating by
Made music to the listening air,
And the low sounds were all too rare
Which dipping branches made below,
Where the continuous currents flow
With interspersing murmurs there,
Of rivers running wild and free
Among the sedges to the sea.
IX.
Among the sedges to the sea,
The river ran and they who stood
In happy but in silent mood
Upon its banks, might haply see
Within the stream’s tumultuous flood
An emblem of the love they knew,
The love ‘twere well they might not rue;
And, as the water’s rapid course
All smoothly running joined in one,
The lovers’ hearts too soon had run
And poured themselves with stronger force
Upon an ocean wider far
Than that which moves from star to star.
X.
The eastern evening on them shed
The love which in their natures slept
Slumbering and still but not yet dead
And on the heart emotion crept
All silent, save for secret signs
More fair than voice, more sweet than word,
More lovely than the softest lines
That human ears had ever heard.
XI.
Silent and still the sound of sighs
Floated across the twilight air,
And tears that lighted darkest eyes
Shone in the eyelids of the fair
And playing in her long dark hair,
The scented winds went by and bore
Along with them toward the shore
A perfume which was richly rare.
XII.
“Arise and pray” — from out the town
The muezzin’s voice came pealing down
And breaking far across the wave
Left silence deeper than the grave.
She marked with still and secret pain
The cruel smile of proud disdain
That swiftly shot across the brow
Of he who lingered by her side,
And watched her with a lover’s pride,
One glance of scorn— ’twas over now,
And on the forehead downward bent
It came not swifter than it went —
With smile serene, and brow unmoved
The Christian turned to her he loved.
XIII.
The moonbeams fell with shaded light
Upon the paths beneath the shade,
And all unclouded was the night
Which stretched above the glistening glade
And all was clear, save where was laid
The shadow of some waving tree,
Or where the white-flecked cloudlets made
A golden pathway on the sea.
XIV.
They are so happy they have not heard
A stealthy footstep steal behind,
Like lightest print of lightest bird
Or whisper of the passing wind;
They have not noticed one whose breath
Is held as though for life or death,
Whose hands are clenched with sternest force
Whose rage is kept within its course,
Whose throbbing brows and eyeballs say
What thousand hates are held in sway;
He marked the love that passed between
The unconscious pair which he had seen,
And while the moon dropped down the bay
The Moslem slowly stole away.
XV.
The lover claims a last embrace
One parting smile, one last long kiss,
And happy is the maiden’s face
For nearer seems the promised bliss,
Only one day and then — they start
At sounds which move the stoutest heart!
Why springs the Christian at that word
With heightening glance and ready sword?
