The Death of Saul | Page 9

None may the niche of glory haplier grace,
None may the crown of
greatness proudlier wear,
Than he upon whose tomb the silent tear

Falls slowly down from many a drooping face.
Faces whose hard and rugged outlines show
Life's daily struggle--O,
how bravely fought!
Faces to which the only gladness brought

Came from the Friend who yonder lieth low.
Let us in mournful retrospect commune
O'er what that still cold heart
and brain have won:
A hymn of life in lispings first begun,
Ending
in harmony's most perfect tune.
As comes the sun from out the darkling-night,
And strikes, as did the
patriarch of old,
Life's barren rocks, which flush with green and gold,

And pour out waters glad with living light,

So, crowned with blessings, in the far-off days,
Like Midas, Mynwy's
monarch touched the earth,
Wrought golden plenty where once
reigned a dearth,
And raised an empire he alone could raise.
No service his, of slavery, to bind
With tyrant fancy vassals to his
will:
All hearts beat quick with sympathetic thrill
For one who
loved the humblest of their kind.
His kingdom rang with fealty from the free--
Such blessed faith as
faith itself ensures.
His reign alone that sway which e'er secures
A
subject's true and trustful sympathy.
So love men's love begat in bounteous flow;
It blossomed round his
path as flowers bloom,
Filling his life with such a rare perfume
Of
heart's devotion kings can seldom know.
His master-mind, with almost boundless reach,
Planned work so vast
that mankind, wondering still,
Could scarcely compass his gigantic
will
Which grasped great things as ocean clasps the beach.
His home of homes was where the Cyclops forged
Their bolts, as
though for Jove to hold his own:
His fondest study where, through
ages grown,
The silent ores old Cambria's mountains gorged.
Mammoth machines that, with incessant whirl,
Rolled onward ever
on their ponderous way:
Gigantic marvels, deafening in their play,

And swift, industrious, never-ending swirl.
All these he loved, as men alone can love
The things that win their
love: to _him_ they shone
Instinct with living beauty all their own,

Touched with a light divine as from above.
_For_ them, and _with_ them, toiled he day by day
In true
companionship: they were his Friends,
Bound by the tie whose
influence never ends,
By faithful bonds which never pass away.

And as the sunflower looks towards the light
All through the livelong
day, so did his heart
Ne'er from this bond of love play recreant part,

But every moment beat that heart aright;
A heart so large and true--true to the core;
So spacious that the great
might enter in;
Yet none too poor its sympathy to win,
And every
throb a pleasure at their door.
And so, through all the toilful hours of thought,
He reared a
world-wide pinnacle of fame,
Whose summit reached, his heart was
still the same,
Undazed by splendours which his hand had wrought.
Long stood he on the topmost peak of praise
From tongues of men, as
mountains tipped with snow
Stand with their lofty foreheads all
a-glow,
Lit up with beauty by the sun's bright rays.
His life was climaxed by a kinglier dower
Than even kings
themselves can hope to reach;
No grander, prouder lesson can we
teach,
Than win great things by self-inherent power.
Brighter examples manhood cannot show,
Than with true hand, brave
heart, and sleepless mind,
To build up name and fortune 'midst their
kind,
From grains and drops--as worlds and oceans grow.
So, in the rare meridian of his time,
In pride of conscious strength, he
stood alone,
A king of kings upon his Iron Throne,
Wrought out
from humble step to height sublime,
As shadows lengthen in the setting sun,
So spread the stature of his
later life,
Which, like Colossus, o'er earth's busy strife,
Towered
grandly till that life's last sand was run.
And so he passed away, as meteors die;
Leaving a trail of splendour
here on earth
To mark the road he took in virtuous worth,
In
sterling truth, and rare integrity.

These are the living landmarks he has left:
Bright jewels in his
earthly sojourn set,
Whose brilliance seen, those looking ne'er forgot:

A glorious heritage for friends bereft.
Such gems as those who mourn may still adore,
Whose glistening
rays men's footsteps lead aright
Through life's dark way, like
glow-worms in the night,
Or angel-glintings from the eternal shore.
As round decaying flowers perfume clings
In silent tribute to the
blossoms dead,
So memory, brooding o'er his spirit fled,
Nought
but the sweetest recollection brings.
ELEGIES
NASH VAUGHAN EDWARDES VAUGHAN.
(OF RHEOLA.)
DIED SEPTEMBER 18TH, 1868. (_a_)
I.
Let bard on battle-field, in sounding verse,
Proclaim to distant time
the warrior-deed
That makes a hero, whose triumphal hearse
Rolls
graveward o'er a thousand hearts that bleed
In widowed agony. Let
golden lyre
Of regal Court engaged in worldly strife
Clothe
princely foibles with poetic fire,
And crown with fame a king's
ignoble life.
Let chroniclers of Camp and Court proclaim
A
Warrior's greatness, and a Monarch's fame.
Be mine with verse the
tomb of one to grace
Whose nobler deeds deserve a nobler place.
II.
The lofty fane that cleaves the glowing sky,
And heavenward points
with golden finger-tip--
Structure whence flows the sacred harmony

Of prayer and