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# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 26 1829/Parting Words

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 26, Page 53
X.
PARTING WORDS.
One struggle more, and I am free.
Byron.
Leave me, oh! leave me!—unto all below
 Thy presence binds me with too deep a spell;
Thou mak'st these mortal regions, whence I go,
 Too mighty in their loveliness—farewell,
That I may part in peace!
Leave me! thy footstep with its lightest sound,
 The very shadow of thy waving hair,
Wake in my soul a feeling too profound,
 Too strong for aught that loves and dies to bear.
Oh! bid the conflict cease!
I hear thy whisper—and the warm tears gush
 Into mine eyes, the quick pulse thrills my heart;
Thou bid'st the peace, the reverential hush,
 The still submission from my thoughts depart.
Dear One! this must not be.
The past looks on me from thy mournful eye,
 The beauty of our free and vernal days,
Our communings with sea, and hill, and sky—
 Oh! take that bright world from my spirit's gaze!
Thou art all earth to me!
Shut out the sunshine from my dying room,
 The jas'mine's breath, the murmur of the bee;
Let not the joy of bird-notes pierce the gloom!  They speak of life, of summer, and of thee—
Too much—and death is here!
Doth our own spring make happy music now,
 From the old beech-roots flashing into day?
Are the broad lilies imaged in its flow? —Alas! vain thoughts that fondly thus can stray
From the dread hour so near!
If I could but draw courage from the light
 Of thy clear eye, that ever shone to bless! —Not now! 'twill not be now!—my aching sight
 Drinks from that fount a flood of tenderness,
Bearing all strength away!
Leave me!—thou com'st between my heart and heaven!
 I would be still, in voiceless prayer to die.
Why must our souls thus love, and thus be riven?
—Return!—thy parting wakes mine agony! —Oh! yet awhile delay!
# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 25 1829/The Two Homes

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 25, Page 500
III.
THE TWO HOMES.
Oh! if the soul immortal be,
Is not its love immortal too?
Seest thou my home?—'Tis where yon woods are waving
In their dark richness, to the sunny air;
Where yon blue stream, a thousand flower-banks laving,
Leads down the hills a vein of light—'tis there!
Midst these green haunts how many a spring lies gleaming,
Fringed with the violet, colour'd with the skies,
My boyhood's haunt, through days of summer dreaming,
Under young leaves that shook with melodies!
My home!—the spirit of its love is breathing
In every wind that plays across my track,
From its white walls the very tendrils wreathing
Seem with soft links to draw the wanderer back.
There am I loved—there pray'd for!—there my mother
Sits by the hearth with meekly thoughtful eye,
There my young sisters watch to greet their brother;
Soon their glad footsteps down the path will fly!
There, in sweet strains of kindred music blending,
All the home-voices meet at day's decline;
One are those tones, as from one heart ascending—
—There laughs my home. Sad stranger where is thine?
—Ask'st thou of mine?—In solemn peace 'tis lying,
Far o'er the deserts and the tombs away;
'Tis where I too am loved, with love undying,
And fond hearts wait my step—But where are they?
Ask where the earth's departed have their dwelling,
Ask of the clouds, the stars, the trackless air!— I know it not—yet trust the whisper, telling
My lonely heart, that love unchanged is there.
And what is home, and where, but with the loving?
Happy thou art, that so canst gaze on thine!
My spirit feels but, in its weary roving,
That with the dead, where'er they be, is mine.
Go to thy home, rejoicing son and brother!
Bear in fresh gladness to the household scene!
For me, too, watch the sister and the mother,
I will believe—but dark seas roll between.F. H.
# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 25 1829/The Wish

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 25, Page 571
V.
THE WISH.
Holy hath been our converse, gentle friend!
Full of high thoughts breathing of heavenward hope,
Deepen'd by tenderest memories of the dead;
Therefore, beyond the Grave, I surely deem
That we shall meet again.
Come to me, when my soul
Hath but a few dim hours to linger here;
When earthly chains are as a shrivell'd scroll,
Oh! let me feel thy presence! be but near!
That I may look once more
Into thine eyes, which never changed for me;
That I may speak to thee of that bright shore,
Where, with our treasures, we have yearn'd to be.
Thou friend of many days!
Of sadness and of joy, of home and hearth!
Will not thy spirit aid me then to raise
The trembling pinions of my hope from earth?
By every solemn thought
Which on our hearts hath sunk, in years gone by,
From the deep voices of the mountains caught,
Or all th' adoring silence of the sky:
By every lofty theme,
Wherein, in low-toned reverence, we have spoken;
By our communion in each fervent dream
That sought from realms beyond the grave, a token:
And by our tears for those
Whose loss hath touch'd our world with hues of death;
And by the hopes that with their dust repose,
As flowers await the south wind's vernal breath:
Come to me in that day—
The one—the sever'd from all days!—O Friend!
Even then, if human thought may then have sway,
My soul with thine shall yet rejoice to blend.
Nor then, nor there alone:
I ask my heart if all indeed must die;
All that of holiest feeling it hath known?
And my heart's Voice replies–Eternity!
# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 26 1829/The Heart of Bruce, in Melrose Abbey

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 26, Page 610
THE HEART OF BRUCE, IN MELROSE ABBEY.
BY MRS HEMANS.
"Now pass thou onward, as thou wast wont, and Douglas will follow thee, or die."*
Heart! that didst press forward still,
Where the trumpet’s note rang shrill,
Where the knightly swords were crossing,
And the plumes like sea-foam tossing,
First where'er the brave were met,
Last against each dark tide set;
Leader of the charging spear!
Fiery heart! And liest thou here?
May this narrow spot inurn
Aught that so could beat and burn?
Heart that lov'dst the clarion's blast,
Silent is thy place at last:
Silent—save when breeze's moan
Comes through weed or fretted stone;
Silent—save when early bird
Sings where once the Mass was heard;
And the wild-rose waves around thee,
And the long dark grass hath bound thee:
Sleep'st thou as the swain might sleep,
In his nameless valley deep?
No! brave Heart! Though cold and lone,
Kingly power is yet thine own.
Feel I not thy spirit brood
O'er the whispering solitude?
Lo! at one high thought of thee,
Fast they rise, the Bold, the Free,
Sweeping past thy lowly bed
With a mute, yet stately tread;
Shedding their pale armour's light
Forth upon the breathless night;
Bending every warlike plume
In the prayer o'er saintly tomb.
Is the noble Douglas nigh,
Arm'd to follow thee, or die?
Now, true Heart! as thou wast wont,
Pass thou to the peril's front!
Where the banner-spear is gleaming,
And the battle's red wine streaming,
Till the Paynim quail before thee,
Till the Cross wave proudly o'er thee!
—Dreams! the falling of a leaf
Wins me from their splendours brief,
Dreams, yet bright ones!—Scorn them not,
Thou, that seek'st the holy spot;
Nor, amidst its lone domain,
Call the faith in relics vain!
# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 25 1829/The Soldier's Death-Bed

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 25, Page 714
SONGS OF THE AFFECTIONS.
By Mrs Hemans.
VI.
THE SOLDIER'S DEATH-BED.
Wie herrlich die sonne dort untergeht! Da ich
Noch ein Bube war—war's mein Lieblingsgedanke,
Wie sie zu leben, zu sterben wie sie.
Die Rauber.
Like thee to die, thou Sun!—My boyhood's dream,
Was this; and now my spirit, with thy beam,
Ebbs from a field of victory!—yet the hour
Bears back upon me, with a torrent's power,
Nature's deep longings:—Oh! for some kind eye,
Wherein to meet Love's fervent farewell gaze;
Some breast, to pillow Life's last agony;
Some voice, to speak of Hope and brighter days,
Beyond the Pass of Shadows!—But I go,
I, that have been so loved, go hence alone;
And ye, now gathering round my own hearth's glow,
Sweet friends! it may be that a softer tone,
Even in this moment, with your laughing glee,
Mingles its feeling while ye speak of me:
Of me, your soldier, midst the mountains lying,
On the red banner of his battles dying,
Far, far away! And oh! your parting prayer!
Will not his name be fondly murmur'd there?— It will!—a blessing on that holy hearth!
Though clouds are darkening to o'ercast its mirth.
Mother! I may not hear thy voice again;
Sisters! ye watch to greet my step in vain;
Young brother, fare thee well!—on each dear head,
Blessing and love a thousand fold be shed,
My soul's last earthly breathings!—May your home
Smile for you ever!—May no winter come,
No world, between your hearts!—May even your tears,
For my sake, full of long-remember'd years,
Quicken the true affections that entwine
Your lives in one bright bond!—I may not sleep
Amidst our Fathers, where those tears might shine
Over my slumbers; yet your love will keep
My memory living in th' ancestral halls,
Where shame hath never trod.—The dark night falls,
And I depart.—The Brave are gone to rest,
The brothers of my combats; on the breast
Of the red field they reap'd:—their work is done—
Thou, too, art set—farewell, farewell, thou Sun! The last lone watcher of the bloody sod,
Offers a trusting spirit up to God.
# Felicia Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Volume 25 1829/The Storm-Painter in his Dungeon

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 25, Pages 227-228
THE STORM-PAINTER* IN HIS DUNGEON.
—Where of ye, O tempests, is the goal!
Are ye like those that shake the human breast,
Or do ye find at length, like eagles, some high nest?
Childe Harold.
Midnight! and silence deep!
The air is fill'd with sleep,
With the stream's whisper and the citron's breath;
The fixed and solemn stars
Gleam thro' my dungeon-bars—
Wake, rushing winds! this breezeless calm is death!
Ye watch-fires of the skies! The stillness of your eyes
Looks too intensely thro' my troubled soul;
I feel this weight of rest
An earth-load on my breast—
Wake, rushing winds, awake! and dark clouds, roll!
I am your own, your child,
O ye, the fierce and wild
And kingly tempests! Will ye not arise?
Hear the bold Spirit's voice,
That knows not to rejoice,
But in the peal of your strong harmonies!
By sounding Ocean-waves,
And dim Calabrian caves,
And flashing torrents, I have been your mate;
And with the rocking pines
Of the olden Apennines,
In your dark path stood fearless and elate!
Your lightnings were as rods
That smote the deep abodes
Of thought within me, and the stream gush'd free;
Come, that my soul again
May swell to burst its chain—
Bring me the music of the sweeping sea!
Within me dwells a flame,
An eagle caged and tame,
Till call'd forth by the harping of the blast;
Then is its triumph's hour,
It springs to sudden power,
As mounts the billow o'er the quivering mast.
Then, then, the canvass o'er,
With hurried hand I pour
The lava-floods and gusts of my own soul;
Kindling to fiery life
Dreams, worlds, of pictured strife;—
Wake, rushing winds, awake! and dark clouds, roll!
Wake, rise!—the reed may bend,
The trembling leaf descend,
The forest branch give way before your might;
But I, your strong compeer,
Call, summon, wait you here—
Answer, my Spirit, answer! Storm and Night!
F.H.
# Gesta Romanorum Vol. II (1871)/Of Spiritual Contests

TALE XXXIII.
OF SPIRITUAL CONTESTS.
The emperor Adonias was exceedingly rich, and delighted in tournaments, and in the ​crashing of spears. He once held a tournament, and caused it to be proclaimed that the conqueror should obtain a magnificent reward. This caused a great assemblage of the princes and peers of the kingdom; and the emperor ordained that the knights should be divided, so many on one side, and so many on the other. But they who first entered the field were to dispose their shields and arms in order, in a certain place: and further, whosoever of the adverse party would touch the shield of another with his lance, immediately he, whose shield was touched, being previously armed by a maiden selected for the purpose, should descend to the contest; and if he proved victorious, dispute the field with the next opponent. The day being come, the emperor assumed the imperial crown, and sat down at the royal table. Now a certain knight, having diligently inspected the shield of his antagonists, was wonderfully taken with one bearing three apples, or; and that shield he touched. Instantly the owner of it armed and met his opponent, and, after a short conflict, ​cut off his head, and received the promised recompense. (24)
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the emperor is our Lord Jesus Christ; the tournament is the conquest between God and the devils; the shields are some of the attributes of the Almighty, and the field is human nature. The shield bearing three golden apples, is the Trinity in Unity, against which the knight—that is, any man—strikes, when he commits a mortal sin. The reward of the conqueror is eternal life.
Note 24.Page 125.
"The most curious anecdote of chivalry, now on record, occurs in the ecclesiastical history of Spain. Alphonsus the Ninth, about the year 1214, having expelled the Moors from Toledo, endeavoured to establish the Roman missal in the place of Saint Isidore's. This alarming innovation was obstinately opposed, by the people of Toledo, and the king found that his project would be attended with almost insuperable difficulties. The contest at length between the two missals grew so serious, that it was mutually resolved to decide the controversy, not by a theological disputation, but by single combat; in which the champion of the Toletan missal proved victorious."—Warton.
​In illustration of the mode of conducting tournaments, a short quotation from Froissart may be adduced.
"They ordayned in a fayre playne betwene Calays and Saynt Ingilbertes thre fressh grene pauilyons to be pyght up; and at the entre of every pauilion there hanged two sheldes, with the armes of the knightes; one shelde of peace, another of warre; and it was ordayned that suche as shoulde ryn and do dedes of armes shoulde touch one of the sheldes, or cause to be touched whiche as pleaseth them, and he should be delyuered according to his desire."—Berner's Froissard, Vol. II. cap. clxviii.
# Gesta Romanorum Vol. II (1871)/Of Vigilance in our Calling (b)

There is another story in this volume with the same title: Of Vigilance in our Calling
TALE LVI.
OF VIGILANCE IN OUR CALLING.
A thief went one night to the house of a rich man, and scaling the roof, peeped through a hole to examine if any part of the family were yet stirring. The master of the house, suspecting something, said secretly to his wife, "Ask me in a loud voice how I acquired the property I possess; and do not desist until I bid you." The woman complied, and began to vociferate, "My dear husband, pray tell me, since you never were a merchant, how you obtained all the wealth which you have now collected." "My love," answered her husband, "do not ask such foolish questions." But she persisted in her enquiries; and at length, ​as if overcome by her urgency, he said, "Keep what I am going to tell you a secret, and your curiosity shall be gratified."
"Oh, trust me."
"Well, then, you must know that I was a thief, and obtained what I now enjoy by nightly depredations." "It is strange," said the wife, "that you were never taken." "Why," replied he, "my master, who was a skilful clerk, taught me a particular word, which, when I ascended the tops of people's houses, I pronounced, and thus escaped detection." "Tell me, I conjure you," returned the lady, "what that powerful word was." "Hear, then; but never mention it again, or we shall lose all our property." "Be sure of that;" said the lady, "it shall never be repeated."
"It was—is there no one within hearing?—the mighty word was 'False'"
The lady, apparently quite satisfied, fell asleep; and her husband feigned it. He snored lustily, and the thief above, who had heard their conversation with much pleasure, aided by the light of the moon, descended, repeating ​seven times the cabalistic sound. But being too much occupied with the charm to mind his footing, he stepped through the window into the house; and in the fall dislocated his leg and arm, and lay half dead upon the floor. The owner of the mansion, hearing the noise, and well knowing the reason, though he pretended ignorance, asked, "What was the matter?" "Oh!" groaned the suffering thief, "False words have deceived me." In the morning he was taken before the judge, and afterwards suspended on a cross.
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the thief is the devil; the house is the human heart. The man is a good prelate, and his wife is the church.
* ↑ This, it is to be feared, is the retort conjugal.
* ↑ A play upon words seems to have been intended here; and may remind the classical reader of the stratagem of Ulysses, in the cave of the Cyclops; but a designed imitation is hardly probable.
* ↑ Something like this story is in the Directorium Humanæ Vitæ, i.e. the Latin Version from the Hebrew of Pilpay. See also Le Grand, Fabl. 3. 288.
# Gesta Romanorum Vol. II (1871)/Of Wisdom, which excels Strength

TALE L.
OF WISDOM, WHICH EXCELS STRENGTH.
There was a king who promoted a poor man to great wealth, and committed to him the custody of one of his castles. Thus elevated, he became proud to an excess, and conspired against the king, and surrendered his castle into the hands of the enemy. This conduct, in one whom he had raised from the ground, gave the king great concern; and he deliberated upon the best means of regaining what he had lost. But he was told that this could not be done but by the possession of three things, viz. bravery, wisdom, and the love of his subjects. Now there was at that time in the ​kingdom three knights, of whom the first was the bravest of all men; the second, the wisest; and the third, the most attached to the king. These knights were severally sent with large arnies to besiege the castle. The bravest knight conducted his troops through a forest, in which the king's enemies awaited him; but while he was performing prodigies of valour an arrow from a cross-bow struck him in the lower part of the body, and he died of the wound. In the mean time the wise knight brought up his forces and began to propose terms, hoping by these means to draw them to surrender the castle. But while he spoke, an arrow penetrated between the lungs and the stomach, and killed him. The third knight perceiving the death of his comrades, entered the forest, and spoke so eloquently and wittily to the insurgents, that they listened gladly, and at last permitted him to enter the castle. And he so ordered matters that the opposing armies confederated with his troops and gave him entire possession; so that he planted his standard on the top. When the king understood how prudently he had ​obtained the disputed fortress, he promoted him to great honours.
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the king is Christ; the poor man who was raised to honour is Adam, appointed the Seneschal of a castle, that is, of Paradise. The first and bravest knight is the rich and powerful of the world, whom the arrow of pride spiritually slays. The second knight denotes the wise or prudent of this world, and they are slain by the arrow of avarice. The third knight is any Christian who loves God with all his heart; and who, in his simplicity, is often a match for the more cunning of mankind.
# Gesta Romanorum Vol. II (1871)/Of Sinners, who receive the Divine Grace on earnestly seeking it

TALE VI.
OF SINNERS, WHO RECEIVE THE DIVINE GRACE ON EARNESTLY SEEKING IT.
A certain emperor made a law by which if any woman were taken in adultery she should be condemned to perpetual imprisonment. It happened that a knight espoused a noble lady, to whom he was greatly attached. Being called by some emergency into foreign parts, his wife fell under the sentence of the law. She was accordingly cast into a dungeon, and there brought forth a remarkably handsome boy. The child grew, and was beloved by all who saw him. But the mother consumed her hours in groans and tears, nor experienced the smallest comfort. The boy, observing the continual lamentation of his mother, said to her, "For what reason, dearest ​mother, do you afflict yourself in this manner?" "Oh, my son!" returned she, "I have much reason to weep. Above our heads is an intercourse with mankind; and there the sun shines in his splendour. Here, we are kept in utter darkness, and light never blesses our sight." "I am ignorant of all this," said the boy, "because I was born in prison. As long as I receive a sufficiency of meat and drink, I shall willingly remain here." As they thus conversed, the emperor and his guards were passing the place of their confinement. One of them solicited his sovereign to liberate the mother and son; and he, compassionating their distress, and in consideration of the entreaties of his attendants, set them at liberty, and absolved them from future punishment.
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the emperor is our heavenly Father: the wife, is the soul; and the husband, is Christ. The prison is hell. The child ​is the powerful and wealthy of the world, who are satisfied with sensual delights. The intercessor is any good prelate.
# Gesta Romanorum Vol. II (1871)/Of Sloth

TALE XI.
OF SLOTH.
The emperor Pliny had three sons, to whom he was extremely indulgent. He wished to dispose of his kingdom, and calling the three into his presence, spoke thus—"The most slothful of you shall reign after my decease." "Then," answered the elder, "the kingdom must be mine; for I am so lazy, that sitting once by the fire, I burnt my legs, because I was too indolent to withdraw them." The second son observed, "The kingdom should properly be mine, for if I had a rope round my neck, and held a sword in my hand, my idleness is such, that I should not put forth my hand to cut the rope." "But I," said the third son, "ought to be preferred to you both; for I outdo both in indolence. ​While I lay upon my bed, water dropped from above upon my eyes; and though, from the nature of the water, I was in danger of becoming blind, I neither could nor would turn my head ever so little to the right hand or to the left." The emperor, hearing this, bequeathed the kingdom to him, thinking him the laziest of the three.
APPLICATION.
My beloved, the king is the devil; and the three sons, different classes of corrupt men.
Note IV.
Tale XI. Vol. II. p. 45.
There is in the Latin Esop, a story of a "Father and his three Children," of which the latter part resembles the present tale.
"And the mill, how was it demised by your father, to be parted among you three? They answered the judge, he that shall be the most lyar, most evil, and most slow, ought to have it. Then said the eldest son, I am most slothful, for many years past I have dwelled in a great house, and lay under the conduits of the same, where fell upon me all the foul waters, as dish-water and other filth, that most wonderfully stank, insomuch that all my flesh was rotten therewith, and mine eyes blind, and the durt under my back was a foot high, and yet by sloth I had rather abide there than rise up. The second said [I] suppose, that the mill shall be mine, for if I came to a table covered with all manner of delicate meats, whereof I might eat if I would take of the best; I am so slothful that I may not eat, ​unless one should put the meat in my mouth. The third sayd, the mill shall be mine, for I am yet a greater lyar, and more slothful than any of you both, for if I had thirst unto the death, and if I found then myselfe within a fair water up to the neck, I would rather dye, than move myselfe to drink one drop thereof. Then said the judge, Ye wot not what ye say; for neither I, nor any other, may well understand you; but the cause I remit among you."
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 17

CANTO the Third.
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 18

CANTO the Fourth.
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 5

CANTO the Fifth.
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 15

GONDIBERT.
The Third Book.
Written by the Authour during his Imprisonment.
CANTO the First.
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 16

CANTO the Second.
# Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/Canto 2

CANTO the Second.