The Project Gutenberg EBook A Lover's Diary, by Gilbert Parker, v1 #99 in our series by Gilbert Parker Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission. Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** **EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** *****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** Title: A Lover's Diary, Volume 1. Author: Gilbert Parker Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6272] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on November 21, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LOVER'S DIARY, PARKER, V1*** This eBook was produced by David Widger A LOVER'S DIARY By Gilbert Parker Volume 1. CONTENTS Volume 1. THE VISION ABOVE THE DIN LOVE'S COURAGE LOVE'S LANGUAGE ASPIRATION THE MEETING THE NEST PISGAH LOVE IS ENOUGH AT THE PLAY SO CALM THE WORLD THE WELCOME THE SHRINE THE TORCH IN ARMOUR IN THEE MY ART DENIAL TESTAMENT CAPTIVITY O MYSTIC WINGS WAS IT THY FACE? A WOMAN'S HAND ONE FACE I SEE MOTHER WHEN FIRST I SAW THEE THE FATES LAUGH AS ONE WHO WAITETH THE SEALING THE PLEDGE LOVE'S TRIBUTARIES THE CHOICE RECOGNITION THE WAY OF DREAMS THE ACCOLADE FALLEN IDOLS TENNYSON THE ANOINTED Volume 2. DREAMS THE BRIDE THE WRAITH SURRENDER THE CITADEL MALFEASANCE ANNUNCIATION VANISHED DREAMS INTO THY LAND DIVIDED WE MUST LIVE ON YET LIFE IS SWEET LOST FOOTSTEPS THE CLOSED DOOR THE CHALICE MIO DESTINO I HAVE BEHELD TOO SOON AWAY THE TREASURE DAHIN LOVE'S USURY THE DECREE 'TIS MORNING NOW SACRIFICE SHINE ON SO, THOU ART GONE THE THOUSAND THINGS ONES THE SEA THE CHART REVEALING OVERCOMING WHITHER NOW ARARAT AS LIGHT LEAPS UP THE DARKENED WAY REUNITED SONG WAS GONE FROM ME GOOD WAS THE FIGHT UNCHANGED ABSOLVO TE BENEDICTUS THE MESSAGE UNAVAILING YOU SHALL LIVE ON "VEX NOT THIS GHOST" THE MEMORY THE PASSING ENVOY INTRODUCTION 'A Lover's Diary' has not the same modest history as 'Embers'. As far back as 1894 it was given to the public without any apology or excuse, but I have been apologising for it ever since, in one way--without avail. I wished that at least one-fifth of it had not been published; but my apology was never heard till now as I withdraw from this edition of A Lover's Diary some twenty-five sonnets representing fully one-fifth of the original edition. As it now stands the faint thread of narrative is more distinct, and redundancy of sentiment and words is modified to some extent at any rate. Such material story as there is, apart from the spiritual history embodied in the sonnets, seems more visible now, and the reader has a clearer revelation of a young, aspiring, candid mind shadowed by stern conventions of thought, dogma, and formula, but breaking loose from the environment which smothered it. The price it pays for the revelation is a hopeless love informed by temptation, but lifted away from ruinous elements by self-renunciation, to end with the inevitable parting, poignant and permanent, a task of the soul finished and the toll of the journey of understanding paid. The six sonnets in italics, beginning with 'The Bride', and ending with 'Annunciation', have nothing to do with the story further than to show two phases of the youth's mind before it was shaken by speculation, plunged into the sadness of doubt and apprehension, and before it had found the love which was to reveal it to itself, transform the character, and give new impulse and direction to personal force and individual sense. These were written when I was twenty and twenty-one years of age, and the sonnet sequence of 'A Lover's Diary' was begun when I was twenty- three. They were continued over seven years in varying quantity. Sometimes two or three were written in a week, and then no more would be written for several weeks or maybe months, and it is clearly to be seen from the text, from the change in style, and above all in the nature of the thought that between 'The Darkened Way', which ends one epoch, and 'Reunited', which begins another and the last epoch, were intervening years. The sonnet which begins the book and particularly that which ends the book have been very widely quoted, and 'Envoy' has been set to music by more than one celebrated musician. Whatever the monotony of a sonnet sequence (and it is a form which I should not have chosen if I had been older and wiser) there has been a continuous, if limited, demand for the little book. As Edmund Clarence Stedman said in a review, it was a book which had to be written. It was an impulse, a vision, and a revealing, and, in his own words in a letter to me, "It was to be done whether you willed it or no, and there it is a truthful thing of which you shall be glad in spite of what you say." These last words of the great critic were in response to the sudden repentance and despair I felt after Messrs. Stone and Kimball had published the book in exquisite form with a beautiful frontispiece by Will H. Low. In any case, it is now too late to try and disabuse the minds of those who care for the little piece of artistry, and since 1894, when it was published, I have matured sufficiently in life's academy not to be too unduly sensitive either as to the merit or demerit of my work. There is, after all, an unlovable kind of vanity in acute self-criticism --as though it mattered deeply to the world whether one ever wrote anything; or, having written, as though it mattered to the world enough to stir it in its course by one vibration. The world has drunk deep of wonderful literature, and all that I can do is make a small brew with a little flavour of my own; but it still could get on very well indeed with the old staple and matured vintages were I never to write at all. The King--Whence art thou, sir? Gilfaron--My Lord, I know not well. Indeed, I am a townsman of the world. For once my mother told me that she saw The Angel of the Cross Roads lead me out, And point to every corner of the sky, And say, "Thy feet shall follow in the trail Of every tribe; and thou shalt pitch thy tent Wherever thou shalt see a human face Which hath thereon the alphabet of life; Yea, thou shalt spell it out e'en as a child: And therein wisdom find." The King--Art thou wise? Gilfaron--Only according to the Signs. The King--What signs? Gilfaron--The first--the language of the Garden, sire, When man spoke with the naked searching thought, Unlacquered of the world. The King--Speak so forthwith; come, show us to be wise. Gilfaron--The Angel of the Cross Roads to me said: "And wisdom comes by looking eye to eye, Each seeing his own soul as in a glass; For ye shall find the Lodges of the Wise, The farthest Camp of the Delightful Fires, By marching two by two, not one by one." --The King's Daughter. THE VISION As one would stand who saw a sudden light Flood down the world, and so encompass him And in that world illumined Seraphim Brooded above and gladdened to his sight; So stand I in the flame of one great thought, That broadens to my soul from where she waits, Who, yesterday, drew wide the inner gates Of all my being to the hopes I sought. Her words come to me like a summer-song, Blown from the throat of some sweet nightingale; I stand within her light the whole day long, And think upon her till the white stars fail: I lift my head towards all that makes life wise, And see no farther than my lady's eyes. ABOVE THE DIN Silence sits often on me as I touch Her presence; I am like a bird that hears A note diviner than it knows, and fears To share the larger harmony too much. My soul leaps up, as to a sudden sound A long-lost traveller, when, by her grace, I learn of her life's sweetness face to face, And sweep the chords of sympathies profound. Her regal nature calmly holds its height Above life's din, while moving in its maze. Unworthy thoughts would die within her sight, And mean deeds creep to darkness from her gaze. Yet only in my dreams can I set down The word that gives her nobleness a crown. LOVE'S COURAGE Courage have I to face all bitter things, That start out darkly from the rugged path, Leading to life's achievement; not God's wrath Would sit so heavy when my lady sings. I did not know what life meant till I felt Her hand clasp mine in compact to the end; Till her dear voice said, "See, I am your friend!" And at her feet, amazed, my spirit knelt. And yet I spoke but hoarsely then my thought, I groped amid a thousand forces there; Her understanding all my meaning caught, It was illumined in her atmosphere. She read it line by line, and then there fell The curtain on the shrine-and it is well. LOVE'S LANGUAGE Just now a wave of perfume floated up To greet my senses as I broke the seal Of her short letter; and I still can feel It stir me as a saint the holy cup. The missive lies there,--but a few plain words: A thought about a song, a note of praise, And social duties such as fill the days Of women; then a thing that undergirds The phrases like a psalm: a line that reads- "I wish that you were coming!" Why, it lies Upon my heart like blossoms on the skies, Like breath of balm upon the clover meads. The perfumed words soothe me into a dream; My thoughts float to her on the scented stream. ASPIRATION None ever climbed to mountain heights of song, But felt the touch of some good woman's palm; None ever reached God's altitude of calm, But heard one voice cry, "Follow!" from the throng. I would not place her as an image high Above my reach, cold, in some dim recess, Where never she should feel a warm caress Of this my hand that serves her till I die. I would not set her higher than my heart,-- Though she is nobler than I e'er can be; Because she placed me from the crowd apart, And with her tenderness she honoured me. Because of this, I hold me worthier To be her kinsman, while I worship her. THE MEETING O marvel of our nature, that one life Strikes through the thousand lives that fold it round, To find another, even as a sound Sweeps to a song through elemental strife! Through cycles infinite the forces wait, Which destiny has set for union here; No circumstance can warp them from their sphere; They meet sometime; and this is God and Fate. And God is Law, and Fate is Law in use, And we are acted on by some deep cause, Which sanctifies "I will" and "I refuse," When Love speaks--Love, the peaceful end of Laws. And I, from many conflicts over-past, Find here Love, Law, and God, at last. THE NEST High as the eagle builds his lonely nest Above the sea, above the paths of man, And makes the elements his barbican, That none may break the mother-eagle's rest; So build I far above all human eyes My nest of love; Heaven's face alone bends down To give it sunlight, starlight; while is blown A wind upon it out of Paradise. None shall affright, no harm may come to her, Whom I have set there in that lofty home: Love's eye is sleepless; I could feel the stir E'en of God's cohorts, if they chanced to come. I am her shield; I would that I might prove How dear I hold the lady of my love. WHEN thou makest a voyage to the stars, go thou blindfolded; and carry not a sword, but the sandals of thy youth. --Egyptian Proverb. SEEK thou the Angel of the Cross Roads ere thou goest upon a journey, and she will give thee wisdom at the Four Corners. --Egyptian Proverb. PISGAH Behold, now, I have touched the highest point In my existence. When I turn my eyes Backward to scan my outlived agonies, I feel God's finger touch me, to anoint With this sweet Present the ungenerous Past, With love the wounds that struck stark in my soul; With hope life's aching restlessness and dole; To show me place to anchor in at last. Like to a mother bending o'er the bed Where sleeps, death-silent, one that left her side Ere he had reached the flow of manhood's tide, So stood I by my life whence Life had fled. But Life came back at Love's clear trumpet-call, And at Love's feet I cast the useless pall. LOVE IS ENOUGH It is enough that in this burdened time The soul sees all its purposes aright. The rest--what does it matter? Soon the night Will come to whelm us, then the morning chime. What does it matter, if but in the way One hand clasps ours, one heart believes us true; One understands the work we try to do, And strives through Love to teach us what to say? Between me and the chilly outer air Which blows in from the world, there standeth one Who draws Love's curtains closely everywhere, As God folds down the banners of the sun. Warm is my place about me, and above Where was the raven, I behold the dove. AT THE PLAY I felt her fan my shoulder touch to-night. Soft act, faint touch, no meaning did it bear To any save myself, who felt the air Of a new feeling cross my soul's clear sight. To me what matter that the players played! They grew upon the instant like the toys Which dance before the sight of idle boys; I could not hear the laughter that they made. Swept was I on that breath her hand had drawn, Through the dull air, into a mountain-space, Where shafts of the bright sun-god interlace, Making the promise of a golden dawn. And straightway crying, "O my heart, rejoice!" It found its music in my lady's voice. SO CALM THE WORLD Far up the sky the sunset glamour spreads, Far off the city lies in golden mist; The sea grows calm, the waves the sun has kissed Strike white hands softly 'gainst the rocky heads. So calm the world, so still the city lies, So warm the haze that spreads o'er everything; And yet where, there, Peace sits as Lord and King, Havoc will reign when next the sun shall rise. The wheels pause only for a little space, And in the pause they gather strength again. 'Tis but the veil drawn over Labour's face, O'er strife, derision, and the sin of men. My heart with a sweet inner joy o'erflows To nature's peace, and a kind silence knows. THE WELCOME But see: my lady comes. I hear her feet Upon the sward; she standeth by my side. Just such a face Raphael had deified, If in his day they two had chanced to meet. And I, tossed by the tide of circumstance, Lifting weak hands against a host of swords, Paused suddenly to hear her gentle words Making powerless the lightnings of mischance. I, who was but a maker of poor songs, That one might sing behind his prison bars, I, who it seemed fate singled out for wrongs-- She smiled on me as smile the nearest stars. From her deep soul I draw my peace, and thus, One wreath of rhyme I weave for both of us. THE SHRINE Were I but as the master souls who move In their high place, immortal on the earth, My song might be a thing to crown her worth,-- 'Tis but a pathway for the feet of Love. But since she walks where I am fain to sing, Since she has said, "I listen, O my friend!" There is a glory lent the song I send, And I am proud, yes, prouder than a king. I grow to nobler use beneath her eyes-- Eyes that smile on me so serenely, will They smile a welcome though my best hope dies, And greet me at the summit of the hill? Will she, for whom my heart has built a shrine, Take from me all that makes this world divine? THE TORCH Art's use what is it but to touch the springs Of nature? But to hold a torch up for Humanity in Life's large corridor, To guide the feet of peasants and of kings! What is it but to carry union through Thoughts alien to thoughts kindred, and to merge The lines of colour that should not diverge, And give the sun a window to shine through! What is it but to make the world have heed For what its dull eyes else would hardly scan, To draw in a stark light a shameless deed, And show the fashion of a kingly man! To cherish honour, and to smite all shame, To lend hearts voices, and give thoughts a name! IN ARMOUR, But wherein shall Art work? Shall beauty lead It captive, and set kisses on its mouth? Shall it be strained unto the breast of youth, And in a garden live where grows no weed? Shall it, in dalliance with the flaunting world, Play but soft airs, sing but sweet-tempered songs? Veer lightly from the stress of all great wrongs, And lisp of peace 'mid battle-flags unfurled? Shall it but pluck the sleeve of wantonness, And gently chide the folly of our time? But wave its golden wand at sin's duress, And say, "Ah me! ah me!" to fallow crime? Nay, Art serves Truth, and Truth with Titan blows, Strikes fearless at all evil that it knows. IN THEE MY ART In thee is all my art; from thee I draw The substance of my dreams, the waking plan Of practised thought; I can no measure scan, But thou work'st in me like eternal law. If I were rich in goodly title deeds Of broad estate, won from posterity; If from decaying Time I snatched a see Richer than prelates pray for with their beads; If some should bring before me frankincense, And make a pleasant fire to greet mine eyes; If there were given me for recompense Gifts fairer than a seraph could devise: I would, my sovereign, kneel to thee and say, "It all is thine; thou showedst me the way." DENIAL But is it so that I must never kiss Thee on the brow, or smooth thy silken hair? Never close down thine eyelids with Love's prayer, Or fold my arms about my new-found bliss? Must I unto the courses of my age Worship afar, lest haply I profane The temple that is now my holy fane, For which my song is given as a gage? Shall I who cry to all, "Come not within The bounds where I my lady have enshrined; I am her cavalier"; shall I not win One dear caress, the rich exchequer find Of thy soft cheek? If thou command, my lips Shall find surcease but at thy fingertips. TESTAMENT Why do I love thee? Shall my answer run: Because that thou hast beauty, noble place, Because of some sweet glamour in thy face, And eyes that shame the clear light of the sun? Shall I exclaim upon thy snow-white hands, Challenge the world to show a gentler mien, Call down the seraphs to attest, the sheen Upon thy brow is borrowed from their lands? Shall I trace out a map of all thy worth, Parcel thy virtues, say, "For this and this I learned to love her; here new charms had birth; I in this territory caught a bliss"? Shall I make inventory of thy grace, And crowd the total into common space? CAPTIVITY Nay, lady, though I love thee, I make pause Before thy question, and know naught to say; Art cannot teach me to define the way, Love led me, nor e'en register Love's cause. It can but blazon in this verse of mine What love does for me; what from Love it gains; What is its quickening; but it refrains From divination where thy merits shine. Canst thou, indeed, not tell what wrought in thee To bring me as a captive to thy feet? Canst thou not say, "'Twas this that made decree Of conquest; here thy soul with mine did meet?" Or is it that both stand amazed before The shrine where thou hast blessed and I adore? O MYSTIC WINGS O mystic wings, upbear me lightly now, Beyond life's faithful labour to a seat Where I can feel the end of things complete, Where no hot breath of ill can scorch the brow. O mystic wings of Art, about thee Truth Makes atmosphere of purity and power; 'Tis man's breath kills the spring's soft-petaled flower-- Ye give a refuge for the heart of youth. Ye give a value for all loss in age, When feebled eyes search for forgotten springs; Ye fan the breeze that turns the moulded page, And carry back the soul to ardent things. Poor payment can I give, but here engage I thee to be Love's airy equipage. WAS IT THY FACE? Was it thy face I saw when, as a child, Night after night I watched one quiet star Shine 'tween my curtain and the window-bar Until I slept, and made my sleep more mild? Was it thy influence outreaching then To me, o'er untrod years, o'er varying days, To give me courage, as from phase to phase Of youth's desires I passed to deeds of men? Was it because the star was hid awhile, That I in blindness wandered from my path; That I wooed Folly with her mumming smile, And sought for Lethe in a cup of wrath? Another hand touched mine with sadness there, And saved me till I saw thy face appear. A WOMAN'S HAND A woman's hand. Lo, I am thankful now That with its touch I have walked all my days; Rising from fateful and forbidden ways, To find a woman's hand upon my brow; Soft as a pad of rose-leaves, and as pure As upraised palms of angels, seen in dreams: And soothed by it, to stand as it beseems A man who strives to conquer and endure. A woman's hand!--there is no better thing Of all things human; it is half divine; It hath been more to this lame life of mine, When faith was weakness, and despair was king. Man more than all men, Thou wast glad to bless A woman's sacrifice and tenderness. ONE FACE I SEE One face I see by thine whene'er I hold Converse with things that are or things that were; Whene'er I seek life's hidden folds to stir, And watch the inner to the outer rolled. Dost thou not know her, O beloved one? Hast thou not felt her sunshine on thy face? In me hast thou not learned some signs to trace Of that dear soul who calleth me her son? Such as I was that in thy countenance Found favour, from her it was gathered most. To my mad youth her gentle surveillance Was like a watch-fire on a rock-bound coast. She drew about me motherhood, and thou Hast with Love's holy chrism touched my brow. MOTHER She gave me courage when I weakly said, "O see how drifting, derelict, am I! The tide runs counter, and the wind is high; I see no channel through the rocks ahead. My arm is impotent; what worth to trim The bending sails! Look, I shall quaff a cup To Fate, while the wild ocean swallows up The shipwrecked youth, the man who lives in him." She said: "But thou hast valour, dear, too much For such as this; thou hast grave embassy, Given with thy birth; would'st thou thine honour smutch With coward failing? Dear son, breast the sea." Firm-purposed from that hour, through wind and wave, I brought my message till thou shelter gave. WHEN FIRST I SAW THEE When first I saw thee, lady, straightway came The thought that somehow, somewhere, destiny, Through blinding paths of happiness or blame, Would bend my way of life, my soul to thee. But then I put it from me: was not I A wanderer? To-morrow I should be In other lands-beside another sea; Nay, you were but a star-gleam in my sky. And so I came not in your sight awhile, You gave no thought, and I passed not away; But like some traveller in a deep defile I walked in darkness even through the day: Until at last the hands of Circumstance Pointed the hour that waked me from my trance. THE FATES LAUGH I did not will this thing. I set my face Towards duty and my art; I was alone. How knew I thou shouldst roll away the stone From hopes long buried, by thy tender grace? What does it matter that we make resolve? The Fates laugh at us as they sit and spin; We cannot tell what Good is, or what Sin, Or why old faiths in mist of pain dissolve. We only can stand watchful in the way, Waiting with patient hands on shield and sword, Ready to meet disaster in the fray, Till Time has struck the letters of one word-- Word of such high-born worth: triumphant Love, Give me thy canopy where'er I rove. AS ONE WHO WAITETH As one who waiteth for the signet ring Of his dear sovereign, that his embassy May have clear passport over land and sea, And make the subject sacred as his king; As waits the warrior for a pontiff's palm, Upraised in blessing o'er his high emprise; And bows his mailed forehead prayerful-wise, Sinking his turbulency in deep calm: So waited I for one seal to be set Upon my full commission, for a sign That should make impotent man's "I forget," And make God's "I remember" more divine: Which should command at need the homage of The armed squadrons of all loyal love. THE SEALING But yestermorn my marshalled hopes were held Upon the verge of august pilgrimage; To-day I am as birds that leave the cage To seek green fastnesses they knew of eld; To-day I am as one who hides his face Within his golden beaver, and whose hand Clenches with pride his tried and conquering brand, Ay, as a hunter mounted for the chase. For, see: upon my lips I carry now A touch that speaks reveille to my soul; I have a dispensation large enow To enfold the world and circumscribe each pole. Slow let me speak it: From her lips and brow I took the gifts she only could endow. THE PLEDGE O gifts divine as any ever knew The noble spirits of an antique time; As any poets fashion in their rhyme, Or angels whisper down the shadeless blue! The priceless gifts of holy confidence, That speak through quivering lips from heart to heart; That unto life new energies impart, And open up the gates of prescience. O dear my love, I unto thee have given Pledge that I am thy vassal evermore; I stand within the zenith of my Heaven, On either hand a starred eternal shore I have come nearer to thy greater worth, For thou hast raised me from the common earth. LOVE'S TRIBUTARIES I can say now, "There was the confluence Of all Love's tributaries; there the sea Of Love spread out towards eternity; And there my coarser touched her finer sense. Poor though I am in my own sight, I know That thou hast winnowed, sweet, what best I am; Upon my restlessness thy ample calm Hath fallen as on frost-bound earth the snow. It hideth the harsh furrows that the wheels Of heavy trials made in Life's champaign; Upon its pure unfolding sunshine steals, And there is promise of the spring again. Here make I proclamation of my faith, And poise my fealty o'er the head of Death." THE CHOICE If Death should come to me to-night, and say: "I weigh thy destiny; behold, I give One little day with this thy love to live, Then, my embrace; or, leave her for alway, And thou shalt walk a full array of years; Upon thee shall the world's large honours fall, And praises clamorous shall make for all Thy strivings rich amends." If in my ears Thou saidst, "I love thee!" I would straightway cry, "A thousand years upon this barren earth Is death without her: for that day I die, And count my life for it of poorest worth." Love's reckoning is too noble to be told By Time's slow fingers on its sands of gold. RECOGNITION As in a foreign land one threads his way 'Mid alien scenes, knowing no face he meets; And, hearing his name spoken, turns and greets With wondering joy a friend of other days; As in the pause that comes between the sound And recognition, all the finer sense Is swathed in a melodious eloquence, Which makes his name seem in its sweetness drowned So stood I, by an atmosphere beguiled Of glad surprise, when first thy lips let fall The name I lightly carried when a child, That I shall rise to at the judgment call. The music of thy nature folded round Its barrenness a majesty of sound. THE WAY OF DREAMS Since I rose out of child-oblivion I have walked in a world of many dreams, And noble souls beside the shining streams Of fancy have with beckonings led me on. Their faces oft, mayhap, I could not see, Only their waving hands and noble forms. Sometimes there sprang between quick-gathered storms, But always they came back again to me. Women with smiling eyes and star-spun hair Spake gentle things, bade me look back to view The deeds of the great souls who climbed the stair Immortal, and for whom God's manna grew: Dante, Anacreon, Euripides, And all who set rich wine upon the lees. THE ACCOLADE Men of brave stature came and placed their hands Upon my head, and, lifting shining swords, Drew through the air signs mightier than words, And vanished in the sun upon the sands. Glimpses I caught of faces that have come Through crowding ages; whisperings of songs; And prayers for the redress of human wrongs From voices that upon the earth are dumb. They were but shadows, but they lent me joy; They gave me reverence for all who pace The world with hands raised, evil to destroy, Who live but for the honour of their race. They taught me to strike at no idol raised, Worshipped a space, then left to be dispraised. FALLEN IDOLS Stedfastness, shall we find it, then, at all? Is it that as the winds blow north and south, So must be praises from the loud world's mouth, Which on its heroes in their glory fall? Because the voice grows stiller, or the arm No longer can beat evils back; because The shoulders sink beneath new-rising cause, And the fine thought has lost its moving charm; Because of these shall puny sages shake Their heads, and haste to mock the failing one, Who in his strength could make the nations quake; Prophet like Daniel, King like Solomon! In this full time we have seen mockers run About the throne of such as Tennyson. TENNYSON Who saith thy hand is weak, King Tennyson? Who crieth, See, the monarch is grown old, His sceptre falls? Oh, carpers rude and bold, You who have fed upon the gracious benison Scattered unstinted by him, do you now Dispraise the sweet-strung harp, grown tremulous 'Neath fingers overworn for all of us? You cannot tear the laurels from his brow. He lives above your idle vaunts and fears, Enthroned where all master souls stand up In their high place, and fill the golden cup, God-blest for kings, with wine of endless years, And greet him one with them. O brotherhood Of envious dullards, ye are wroth with good. THE ANOINTED ONES Why, let them rail! God's full anointed ones Have heard the world exclaim, "We know you not." They who by their souls' travailing have brought Us nearer to the wonder of the suns. Yet, who can stay the passage of the stars? Who can prevail against the thunder-sound? The wire that flashes lightning to the ground Diverts, but not its potency debars. So, men may strike quick stabs at Caesar's worth,-- They only make his life an endless force, 'Scaped from its penthouse, flashing through the earth, And 'whelming those who railed about his Gorse. Men's moods disturb not those born truly great: They know their end; they can afford to wait. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LOVER'S DIARY, PARKER, V1 *** ******** This file should be named 6272.txt or 6272.zip ******** This eBook was produced by David Widger Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, even years after the official publication date. Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment and editing by those who wish to do so. Most people start at our Web sites at: http://gutenberg.net or http://promo.net/pg These Web sites include award-winning information about Project Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, as it appears in our Newsletters. Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): eBooks Year Month 1 1971 July 10 1991 January 100 1994 January 1000 1997 August 1500 1998 October 2000 1999 December 2500 2000 December 3000 2001 November 4000 2001 October/November 6000 2002 December* 9000 2003 November* 10000 2004 January* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. We need your donations more than ever! As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones that have responded. As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. In answer to various questions we have received on this: We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, just ask. While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to donate. International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are ways. Donations by check or money order may be sent to: Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation PMB 113 1739 University Ave. Oxford, MS 38655-4109 Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment method other than by check or money order. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. We need your donations more than ever! You can get up to date donation information online at: http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html *** If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, you can always email directly to: Michael S. Hart Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. We would prefer to send you information by email. **The Legal Small Print** (Three Pages) ***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. *BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market any commercial products without permission. To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, [1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that time to the person you received it from. If you received it on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement copy. If you received it electronically, such person may choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to receive it electronically. THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE. Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you may have other legal rights. INDEMNITY You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, [2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, or [3] any Defect. DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this "Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, or: [1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, including any form resulting from conversion by word processing or hypertext software, but only so long as *EITHER*: [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and does *not* contain characters other than those intended by the author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may be used to convey punctuation intended by the author, and additional characters may be used to indicate hypertext links; OR [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form by the program that displays the eBook (as is the case, for instance, with most word processors); OR [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form). [2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this "Small Print!" statement. [3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the gross profits you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to let us know your plans and to work out the details. WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine readable form. The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. Money should be paid to the: "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: hart@pobox.com [Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be they hardware or software or any other related product without express permission.] *END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*