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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



POEMS 



BY 



L0REI2Z0 SOSSO. 



Hippies en ihe tiJide ^f Thou£hi/' 




SAN FRANCISCO: 
Thk Wkst End Printing and Publishixc; House. 

18 88. 



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COPYRmilT 18S7, 

B Y L O R E N Z O 8 O 8 S O . 



.Ml rights reserved. 



5^ 



TO 

AMERICA 

THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED 

BY ONE 

WHOSE DEAREST AMBITION IS TO MAKE HIS FAME 

WORTHY OF HER GLORY. 



PREFACE. 



I can ofl'er no excuse to the public for the appearance of these Poems. Their 
publication is only the fulfillment of a desire preaominant in my mind for several 
years. Had I been able to publish them as I intended to at that time, expectations on 
my part would be immaterial. Because I would have either been so justly criticized as 
to divert me altogether from literary labors (though I doubt it) or so judicially criticized 
as to reveal the path henceforth before me. 

With a very few exceptions the poems in this volume were written before my 
twentieth year. As they are, I request the public to accept them. Feeling confideut 
that when an author produces productions of his pen that were written under the belief 
of his being especially ordained by a superior power for such a calling, that they can- 
not fail to make an impression. They were not written for a triviality, nor to disperse 
the melancholly broodings of a mind naturally sensitive in the highest degree, but com- 
posed under a stern conviction of the. necessity of their being composed. A necessity 
as eternal as the soul by which it is generated. Certainly their number may surprise 
many, but it is not my fault. All along I have seen the result of such an ambition as is 
mine. All along I have seen the result resulting from such an ambition, and though 
dwelling amidst circumstances more than detrimental to such a lofty aspiration, I have 
never deviated, because I could not. 

There are two distinctive periods in the life of man. One is from his childhood to 
his manhood, the other from his manhood to his age. Standing before the portals of the 
latter as I do, I wish to pass over its threshold with the productions of my youth behind 
me, and this more than anything else has conducted to their publication. Perhaps I 
have scarcely used proper judgment in the matter; indeed, there is a solemn convic- 
tion stealing over my mind even as I write, that I may have been prematurely hasty and 
overwisely indiscreet, but it is too late to regret or reflect. Yet in extenuation let me 
say that the language in which I present myself to the public is an entirely acquired 
one, and though acquired at an early period of life, also at a time when the rudiments 
of my own (the Italian) were already deeply instilled within me and become part of my 
very existence. 

My own judgment of these poems has been already made. It only remains to 
see if the critical and discerning public can be as impartial as commiserate to their im- 
mature imperfections and their faults. 

I have often flattered myself with the hope that they are not entirely devoid of a 
little genius, which with deeper study and intenser application may yet be made to 
bloom forth a sturdy plant in,the forest of America Literature, though did I not consider 
them as a premonition of nobler labors they had never seen the light of public day. 

San Francisco, February 14th, 1888. 



POEMS 



ISLAND OF ATLANTIS. 

Outward in the ocean calm. 

Is a glorious Isle. 

'i'here the airs go breathinj^ balm 

Through thick a r borage ot polm. 

Broad-leaf palm, beneath whose shade 

One woula linger ever. 

And banana trees full-filled 

With most delicious fruit ; 

While groves of oranges in bloom, 

Near a crystal cavern-river. 

Far diffuse their rich perfume ; 

Till the air is odor-laid. 

And is languor-mute. 

There the purole juice is spilled 

From the grape by gentle hands ; 

There cocoa-nuts abound. 

Richest figs, and luscious dates ; 

While birds, with gorgeous plumes, 

bands 
Seek their different -winging mates 
In the cilron-thl(^kets round. 
O, lone beauty-glorious isle. 
Where the heaveiiS ever smile , 
Jt I ween most surely is 
The Island of Atlamis. 

Ever in the unknown seas 
Doth tills island lie. 
Silken sails with gentle breeze. 
Have oft wafted galleys far. 
Guided by no azure star ; 
Seeking aye its lovely shore- 
Seeking aye its golden leas. 
Yet what balmy Summers passed, 
Since these galleys sailed away ; 
Years of Autumn, AVinter, Spring. 
But not one deoarted thence 
Knew returning anymore. 
And now many beings say. 
After weary years went by. 



That such island is at last 

In man's frail imagining. 

Only fancy born awhile. 

And still wonder wneii and whence 

Came the fable of this isle. 

Yet one ship in olden time, 

Left a fair and tropic clime, 

With no shore to seek or find. 

Though it left a shore behind. 

Its snowy sails with eager lips 

Imbibed the breeze and inly swelled, 

While gayly on the pilgrim-ship 

Its billow-course as gayly held. 

And days went by and suns did i-ise. 

And days went by and suns did set ; 

And months went by and they were yet 

Alone upon the waters. 

And nights went by. and in the skies 

Was often seen the fair white moon. 

With fiery stars as amulet ; 

Whose beauty charms at highest noon 

Earih's sons and blushing daughters. 

But when a year had nassed away. 

Their helmsman on a golden morn. 

Descried upon the ocean-way 

An isle that seemed as heaven born ; 

So fair it was, so calm it lay 

Upon the billows blue. 

So beautiful its mountain-sites ; 

So beautiful its valleys broad ; 

So beautiful its forest heights ; 

So beautiful its flowery sod ; 

So radiant to the view. 

That there unon they landed there, 

The hoary eld, the youthful fair ; 

Then loosed the cable of their ship. 

When lightened of its cargo bright. 

Rich silks and purples of delight, 

Their massy store of golden things ; 

Their dazzling show of glorious wealth, 

Untainted by the stain of stealth. 



ISLAND OF ATLANTIS. 



Not bucanneers were these who strip 
Rich-freighted Argo-barks complete. 
Then scud away on silken wings 
And shame the swiftest galley-fleet. 

They loosed the cable of their ship. 

To let it sail the water:^ wide. 

For said they all with happy lips. 

Forever will we here abide. 

Their chief was one of mighty foi'ra. 

Of noble face and godly mien. 

Themselves were all a giant race. 

Like giants old of Anakim ; 

Majestically tall when seen. 

Yet they did reverence to him 

Who guided them from place to place. 

And so they all with ardor warm. 

High purposes and passion-vim. 

Worked many days with mighty zeal ; 

And delved from earth its metals bright. 

And molded them to curious size; 

Then marble from the hills was brought. 

And chiseled with the highest thought. 

Till in the valleys did arise 

Those palaces you now behold. 

Embossed with amethyst and gold. 

Outrivaling the Grecian's art. 

Or glorious shrines of far Cathay, 

From Ciandu unto Cambalu ; 

The Paradise of Kublai Khan, 

The Eden -East which men in part 

Have magnified as being true. 

Those regions being fairer than 

The regions of Eternal day ! 

The chiefs possessed each mountain height ; 

And ere a cycle passed they built 

Those palaces of silver gilt ; 

With terraces and wide arcades, 

And bright expanse of blazoned roof. 

Profusely wrought with pearl and gold, 

Upheld by pillars tapering ; 

So slim and fragil to behold. 

They scarcely seemed a moment's proof. 

And woven around with idle braids 

Of ivy ; while each marble base 

Had sculpturing upon its face 

Of fairest youths and virgin maids ; 

Who in their hands did laurels bring. 

And round a shrine did seem to sing. 

They built all these ; but they are gone ! 
And Silence which cannot unseal 
The secrets of its solitude. 
Alone remaineth here to brood 
Above all things, too sadly real. 
For on this morn, this Summer morn 
Of which I happily may speak, 
From lowest vale to highest peak, 
Nought fluttered in its scented air. 
Except some lightly- winging pair, 
Where nature dwelt in perfect bliss. 
Upon the Island of Atlantis. 

Sigh not, be merry ! Yet who would not 

sigh 
Beholding such a gorgeous beauty-show ? 



And knowing many beings pass it by 

Unconscious of its loveliness below. 

Though we be not all Poesy inwrought. 

Who would not sigh at such a dreary 
thought? 

Yet let us worship what we can behold. 

Skies purple-dark, and grey, and crimson- 
gold; 

Then flowers dew-impearled, both white 
and blue ; 

And safFron-tinted, red, and pinky, too. 

Near murmuring rivers, flowing under 
shades 

Of clambering, englan tines and orange- 
bowers ; 

And tapering palms and myrrh in valley- 
glades, 

And gentle hills, and founts, and torrent- 
showers. 

Ah surely such a beauty is 

Upon the Island of Atlantis. 

Let the flowers weep their dew. 

Knowing they must wither. 

Golden summer-clouds anew 

Are now floating hither. 

They will shed their balmy showers 

Ere they pass away. 

Cheering many drooping flowers 

In their sad decay. 

But sit upon this mossy bank, 

Or on this lawn declining 

To the forest edge ; 

Bordered with the sweetest sedge; 

See the radiant sun-beams shining 

On the water-lilies dank ; 

Or on the primroses bending 

Where the bluebell-mead hath ending. 

Lie beneath this palmy shade, 

While leaf-fans will to and fro 

Softly cool thy flushing brow, 

Gentlier than any maid 

With fair trembling hands could ply. 

While the Zephyrs gamboled by. 

Step within this dancing bark. 

Let us float adown the stream ; 

Long it is before the dark, 

Though the sun has cooled his beam. 

See those towers mountain high. 

On the mountains standing ; 

By the honeysuckles lined, 

Clamberingly and quaintly twined 

Round the shining walls. 

See each polished marble landing. 

We silently are floating by. 

And chance in weekly festivals. 

Silk banners fluttered gaily 

From those steep turrets daily ; 

When youths and maidens left their 

tillage, 
Or the quiet valley-village ; 
Left their mountain-summit cities ; 
While the pipes of minstrels eld 
Played their soul entrancing ditties : 



THE DEAD VIRGIN. 



And the sages grey beheld 
Tender youths and maidens mingling, 
Each their blusliing lover singling 
From the merry sportive throng. 
Then the many-chanted song. 
Which they trilled, was wafted high. 
From the echoes of the caves. 
Over vales and mountains-nigh 
To the gleaming ocean waves. 
But silent now and lonely is 
The Island of Atlantis. 

Not a voice, except the sigh 
Of sad Zephyrs fleeting by. 
Or. the sound of falling brooks, 
Cool and murmurous rivulets. 
Trickling from their cavern nooks. 
Passing fragrant mignionettes, 
Lulling grots of asphodel. 
Are before each ci-ystal cell. 
Where if one should enter in, 
Echo would his accents din; 
Where all brilliantly is shining. 
From the stalactites and gems. 
In its ebon diadems. 
To the lofty arches twining 
With fantastic crystal-spars ; 
And gigantic coluran-stone*'. 
Pillars based with circling zones, 
Blazoned too with coral stars. 
While fair porphyry and onyx, 
Agate seats, and steps of gold. 
Figures sculptured like the Sphinx, 
In these caves of silentness 
Could the startled eye behold ; 
Weirdly beautiful— no less. 

* Wander outward in the air. 
See the brightness glowing there. 
Mountains flushed with lusc ous fruits. 
Valleys clad with colored flowers. 
W^ind-tones. softer than a lute's. 
Musical in odorous bowers. 
Oranges with glossy skin, 
Golden as the fiery beams 
Which the sun is shooting in 
Through the boscage seams. 
Apples rosey-red, and figs 
Hanging from the swaying twigs. 
While beyond the valley border. 
Ranged in glorious beauty-order. 
Are high marble palaces. 
And many a silver shrine. 
Where once perchance gold chalices 
Libations held for God divine. 
For here there dwelt a mystic race. 
That worshiped God and Christ and Cross ; 
But they have left their dwelling place ; 
Their palace-gates are draped with moss. 
Their towers and their battlements. 
Display too well the lightning-rents. 
Few echoes come across the hill, 
AH else is silent— all is still. 
Tis the chant of bright-plumed birds 
In the bowers singing ; 



Or the whirr of others winging 
Through the perfume-scented ether; 
And soft bleat of mild-eyed herds 
Browsing on the meads together. 
Ah, surely now most glorious is 
This Island of Atlantis; 
Where Beauty yet victorious is 
Upon the Isle Atlantis. 



THE DEAD VIRGIN. 

Ye tender Muses that have given cheer 
And gentle inspiration to my verse. 
Until alike was charmed tne listening ear 
At joyful strains that deigned it to re- 
hearse; 
If ever once thy favors were Drelude 
To aerial tones of happy joyousness. 
Discard thy mirth, and" help me to express 
In somber rhyming and in sacred mood 
The lonely sorrow of my solitude. 
A s erst for fairy scenes I tuned my praise. 
When harp and lyre warmed from their 

lighter lays. 
So pensive chant the sacred song divine. 
For she is dead, that being precious more 
Than hidden pearl in spirit-guarded snrine; 
The heavenly chord of all my soulful lore! 
Come sisters choral and with garlands 

crown 
Thy weeping head. Of willow and of 

cypress; 
Of rosemary and the myrtle brown. 
As for some marble-looking princess. 
And tune thy lyres, 
Till hymenial choirs 
Of melody bereave the ears. 
My own is damp with tears. 
That flow incessantly and ever bring. 
As some swift- ringing messenger. 
Remembrance and fresh grief for her. 
Whose soul etherially hath taken wing 

O, she was fair, as heavenly angels fair! 
As the snow-tinted lily she was pure! 
With glossy braids of sunny-golden hair. 
And eyes which could the brighest orben- 

diire. 
Were we not wont, long flowery brooks 

anon 
At early morn, when first the drowsy sun 
With crimson cheeks aroused from heavy 

sleep, 
Over the mountain-tops would surely peep. 
To woo the songsters from their pendant 

nests. 
But all in vain for me to charm them down. 
While they in mazy circles would fly round, 
With golden plumage some, or snowy, 

breasts. 
And redder-tinted, with the shades of blue. 
Her shapely head as if to sip the dew 



THE DEAD VIRGIN. 



Which on her lips reposed, like manna 

sweet. 
Or pluck the dew-buds entwined grace- 

fully 
Among her silken coils, and her would 

greet 
With chirpings clear and twitterings of 

glee. 
But she is dead. 
In death eternal ! 
Her gracious soul has fled. 
To realms of bliss supernal. 
And I must weep, for now I cannot sing. 
But pray attend, O ye of wood and vale. 
And blossoms-garlanded repeat the tale 
Which is the cause of all my sorrowing. 

Ye cannot stir her from this slumber deep. 

Is she not fair as Niobe was fair? 

Though burning tears which over her I 

weep, 
Have made her cheeks glow as with 

blushes there. 
Yet lingering view the fresh and youthful 

face. 
Those tender orbs whose happiness is past. 
O, bliss ; too blissful well I knew to last ! 
Come back. Again the snowy veil replace. 
And strow the flowers, the ground with 

flowers spread ; 
For where her mourning followers shall 

tread. 
Nought but pure lily-buds must greet the 

eyes. 
And as your chants are mingled with yovir 

sighs, 
Slow to the chapel bear her beauteous 

form. 
There to the holy dome snail organs peal ; 
And bells shall sadly toll, as if to storm 
The heavy grief we all of us now feel 
Speak softly , as the winds do softly blow, 
As if this heavenly essence they did know. 
More gently speak. 
Soft be thy whisperings. 
Do you not see how pale, and calm, and 

meek. 
She is to earthly things? 
Such excellence and gentleness did dwell 
Within this fairest shape, that scarce can I 
Deem such a form of loveliness couid die ; 
And so become but deaths receptable. 

Hush ye gay songsters ! Ye gay minstrels 

hush ! 
Be stilled your sweet but merry-luted 

strains. 
Do you not see they re-awaken pains? 
But slow issue from nests of downy plush ; 
And warble all, or chant in tender trills. 
Some plaintive song that shall the echoes 

list 
In rustling grots, where murmur glistening 

rills. 
By pale Narcissus and primroses kissed. 



For she is dead ! Thy mistress fair is dead ! 
She who at matin-prime meek-looking 

came. 
And thy young bills with crumbs or mil- 
let fed. 
While calling each by improvised name. 
Wherefore shall blossoms glisten now 

with dew 
Since she is gone who kissed their dewy 

leaves. 
Or bloom to loveliness their grace to shew? 
No, every floweret most sadly gi ieves, 
And lowly bends upon its pliant stem. 
As if her death had taken life from them. 
But come ye heavenly graces, 
In garments white bedecked. 
And show thy beauteous faces. 
Around her form snow-flecked. 
Yet do not hate against thy rival show ; 
And in thy hands the slender lily bring. 
To place upon her forehead of pure snow. 
And fairest posies round her hair to cling. 
She is asleep. A sleep that looks a dream ! 
Her lotus-hands are folded on her breast. 
And her two lids of pinK and pinky cream. 
Have poppy-lulled her azure eyes to rest; 
When they shone bright they shamed the 

Vestal-beams 
Of holy incense that were wont to blend 
On virgin-shrines, and heavenward as- 
cend. 
O, weep for her, for still this Peri seems 
To live in death. Come forth ye virgin in 

train. 
And her surround ; and while ye view her 

face. 
Which as when Cynthia hath for hours 

lain 
Upon the snowy clouds, is fair in grace ; 
Some dew-drop weep above the beauty 

here. 
This lily bud that only needs a tear. 
How shall the hours, the ever winging 

hours. 
In Eden's realm of Paradise begot. 
Know ever joy, when she hath lost her 

powers 
Who did to them all happiness allot ? 
No, cease their flight, 
O, Time, so it may seem 
Onenightalone. one willow- wreathed night 
She is in this sweet dream ! 
Their cherub moments bear her far from 

me. 
Would ye this love-queen from my pres- 
ence bring? 
Nay bid them fold each sorrow-laden wing, 
And let their rest like hers eternal be ! 

Hide not thy beams fair sun to bring us, 

gloom. 
Let still thy radiance bless these features 

dear. 
For now we march and slowly to her tomb, 
Ys virgin maids suiround the virgin here 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



O, woe of life ! O, day of woeful days ! 
Since she mj' Juliet now so calnilj' lays 
Unconscious of alJ neanng and of si^ht. 
To all unconscious, both to day and night. 
O, angel ones that dwell in place unseen! 
For very pity round her being flj^— 
Descend in numbers from the opal sky. 
And bless the sweetness of her beauty's 

sheen. 
While pearly harps with golden strings 

shall tune 
The saddest and most plaintive melody ; 
Hegin bright Cherubiins thy choral boon. 
Of sounds celestial that are wont to be ; 
And all in robes of holiness arrayed. 
Be like Madonnas round this marble msid. 
Then onward shall we march, 
Weepingly and slowly; 
Till heaven's glorious arch 
Those sounds re-echo holy. 
Yet whither place her cerements of clay? 
Rather. U Cherubims. spread each a wing, 
And thereupon her spirit- vesture bring 
To realms hymeniai of eterxiai day ! 

Tell me, ye fair assemblage, have thy eyes 
Ever such loveliness of charms beheld ? 
These urbs li^e stars of cerulean skies. 
These cheeks which once no ruse's bloom 

excelled, 
WliL-re Virtue find but in her maiden 

breast. 
With gi'aces and with reverence combined? 
Or could pure snows but on her bosom 

rest ? 
Or live pure thoughts as were within her 

mind ? 
Was she not all of chastest gentleness ? 
The fairest fair in fairest maidenhood? 
Sweet modest V she ever did possess 
Unspotted faith, affectionate and good. 
A Cinderella that was worth anew 
For some fair Prince from fairy-land to 

woo. 
O heavenly seats thy portal open wide ! 
For she of all deserves such blessed place. 
And let ner there forever more abide, 
A Beatrice in her spotless grace. 
Maids gaze on her. 
Kiss lasc her brow and hair. 
Angelic-messenger, 
She is of brightness there. 
So gently, sadly, slowly her uprise ; 
And while nroceeding, softly, sweetly 

sing. 
So earth may know whom to her arms we 

bring. 
Her soul has long been wafted to the skies. 

Toll sadly bells, for now we onward w^end ! 
Ope wide thy portal, Tempe of the Most 

High. 
Let thy hushed dome re-echo not a sigh. 
Except the vesper-chant that shall the 

sersicc end. 



See how each pillar, draped in folds of 
white, 

Seem vveening angels ; and the dim, dim 
light 

Breathes forth sweet incense to the kneel- 
ing throng. 

Her to the altar bring, where holy stands 

The father reverend ; he with thin hands 

Shall bless her; and with hyming song 

Now the grand organ a low anthem peals. 

Which swelleth gradually through the air; 

Then sobbing sadly as it forward steals. 

Winds in sweet numbers round her es- 
sence fair. 

O kiss the altar, virgin-maidens all. 

And soulful Dray, and praying do let fall 

One crystal tear upon this sacred floor. 

For she is dead ! O dead forevermore I 

She was so beautiful, 

This virgin-blooming flower. 

He could not choose but cull 

It for His heavenly bower ! 

Let us depart, since now we have begun 

To realize how heavy is our loss. 

And pray to Him and to His only Son, 

Who lived to die for us upon the Cross. 



PYRAMUS AND THTSBE. 

I. 

O could I only sing as Chaucer sung ! 

Or breathe a note of Spencer's fairie 

strain ! 
And in some grot Tbessalian overhung 
By palm and laurel, woo unto my plain 
The heavenly Muses ; till for choral strung 
Their golden lyres, they should repeat 

again 
This gentle theme ; which is nor stern nor 

witty, 
But a sweet mellow tune for Love and 

Pity. 

. II. 
Chastest Erato wilt thou string thy lyre? 
Then leave thy myrtle buds and roses fall 
In dewless desolation. I require 
From thee a plaint more sweetly sad than 

all. 
And let the other goddesses retire. 
While graces weave us Cupid's Coronal. 
So it is woven now, and those who heed 
May weep, if haply they love tears indeed. 

III. 
This strain hath not the gloom of Dante's 

theme. 
Nor the sublimity of Milton's song ; 
Nor the luxuriousness which Keats did 

dream. 
Soul-charmed withall, the slumberous 

evening long. 



6 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



'Tis but a ripple on a Hellas-stream, 

A follower of Kod- Apollo's throng. 

Yet it is true, the ancient legends say. 

At which we weep ana moan our Wella- 

way ! 

IV. 
It is no fable of chilvaric days, 
Of love adventuresome in field and 

court ; 
Nor of Titania and her sprightly fays. 
That wont midst pearly asphoded to sport. 
But 'tis as pitiful as Orpheus' lays 
For lovely Eurydice all amort, 
A tale of two young lovers who did know 
Love's holy joys, and passionings of woe, 



Sweet Bard of Avon I have quaffed me of 
Thy spirit's poesy. For then I sought 
My soul's enchantment in thy tales of love. 
Ah, ecstacy and bliss were in the draught ! 
An immortality of joy above ! 
I sipped of the pure essence of thy thought. 
Which so enthralled me and infused my 

sense. 
That this sad tale reveals the influence. 



YI. 

O Pyamus and Thisbe I must wake 

Pity from her willow couch ; Aye, else this 

tune 
May not be chided for thy gentle sake 
From strings that knew a happiness so 

soon. 
Alas ! this chant of sorrowing shall ache 
Many fair bosoms by its woeful boon. 
For e'en Cytherea did let fall 
At thy sad death pearl-dew o'er blossoms 

all. 

YII. 
For many eves this gentle lover stole 
'Neath balmy-odoured palms of stately 

bounds ; 
To greet the Yestal of his ardent soul. 
Who ministered unto its Cupid-wounds ; 
And with her gentleness kept in control 
His restless mind. A thick wall girt the 

grounds 
Near which alone they could approach 

and speak. 
Kissing its stones to de^m they pressed 

each other's cheek. 

YIII. 

For thus existence brought them pure 

delight. 
Intoxicating by this chastest bliss 
The throbbing region of their passion's 

might ; 
That pledged its spirit on a stony kiss. 
Ala* ! Alas ! that ever should the Night 
Haunt Day continual with dark amiss, 



Yet these two souls did to her temple 
bring 

Faint sighs and vows, for all their worship- 
ing. 

IX. 

Long, Long, they had united ; but the 
pride 

Of their stern parents kept them both 
apart. 

And wedded happiness to them denied. 

But wove Love's meshes firmer round 
their heart. 

What though the day did find them mourn- 
ful eyed. 

Night after night they left the palace- 
mart 

Of wealth and splendor for this lonely 
place ; 

So time for them awhile did gladly pace. 

X. 

Since what to them was princely pomp 
and power ? 

After the love each had to each confest. 

And what to them was every passing 
hour 1 

Except their love grew tenderer at best. 

Could Pi'ramus demand a wealthier 
dower 

Than this fair angel, which his soul pos- 
sessed ? 

Aye not the nightengale or joyful lark. 

Could chant unto hiiu as she did at dark, 

XL 

For Thisbe she was all of loveliness ; 
Such beauty as no mortal now may know. 
Or even poet-spirit dare to guess. 
Though haunted with fair dreams of long 

ago; 
So beautiful she was, that maybe less 
Her ravishment had also been less woe 
To him who worshiped her, as only can 
Love into flame a lover's passion fan. 

XII. 

A blushing posy was she in her looks, 
Like to a A'irgin at a Yenus-shrine ; 
Pure as thedafl'odils of rippling brooks. 
That view their beauty in their crystal 

shine. 
Or as Madonnas in the holy nooks 
Of some aged temple, silently divine. 
Locks .1acinth-hued, and ruby lips she had, 
And azure orbs as clear as Rochnabad. 

XIIL 

Nay let their parents Mammon-hoards 

possess 
In palaces and jewel-cargoed ships; 
This recked they never of, for it was less 
That brought their hopes a sorrowful 

eclipse. 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



Since that they could this wall of marble 

press, 
And deem that thus they pressed each 

other's lips. 
If Love createth phantansies, shall we 
Deride the love that nursed such purity ? 

XIV. 

All daylong wandered Pyramus through 
halls 

Of glittering splendor, echoi'^g his sighs ; 

All daylong midst the luxury those walls 

Concealed from sight of vulgar beggar 
eyes. 

All day long where cool fountain-water 
falls, 

]\Iidst marble-courts and colonades did 
rise ; 

Whde seeming Tritcns wreathed shell- 
did blow. 

Around the overflowing brims below. 

XV. 

And like a p Igrim to Caaba bound. 
'I'hat of his worship thinkcth all the way, 
80 he meandered over ai the ground 
Unconsciously ; still hoping that the day 
Would be fore-shortened. So each evening 

found 
'I'his pining lover languishing astray. 
Haunting the gardens, terraces and court. 
While grieving with a grief of tearless sort. 

XVI. 

O, what a joy by woeful sorrow gained ! 
He was Love's hermit, and as penitent 
As a young novice that had. unrestrained. 
Cyouunitted folly. Though his father sent 
Tlie fairest maidens Babylon contained. 
They could not cloy him to the sweet con- 
tent 
Which balmy evening ever brought to 

him. 
With all Love's ardour and its passion vim. 

XVII. 

They ravished him with harmonies as 
sweet 

As was Appollo's melody of yore ; 

Now gliding ^.nacef ully on pinky feet 

The snowy-smoothness of the mai'ble 
floor. 

With sighs that spake, and glances to x\n- 
seat 

Fair Reason from her throne, and chanted 
lore ; 

W^hile fragrant blossoms, heavy with per- 
fume. 

Did lull his senses to voluptuous bloom. 

XVIII. 

And so his gentle Thisbe all the day, 
Like to a tulip on a virgin's tomb. 



Grieved so\ilfully. Till sorrow paled away 
From her chaste cheeks the rose's lustre- 
bloom. 
Within her chamber did she ever stay, 
Wooing the silken threads from humming 

loom. 
And with each skein around her bosom 

weaving 
A newer chord that trembled at love's 
grieving. 

XIX. 

What cared she for the favor of bold eyes. 

When that fof her two eyes alone were 
shining ? 

What cared she for these suitor's mellow- 
lies. 

Who tiled to win her from her passion- 
pining ? 

What cared she for their ill aftected sighs? 

She cared not for all these, for she was 
shrining 

Within her breast a love too pure and holy, 

To be replaced by their aflection lowly. 

XX. 

And in the eve, when these fond souls did 

meet. 
Their widow-weeds of grief were cast 

aside ; 
And all was joy, for all was passing sweet. 
And all was bliss, which happiness allied ; 
And like with jeweled prow some galley 

fleet 
Doth through the lucid ocean smoothly 

glide. 
So seemed they floating on an azure calm, 
And aye exhaling an exotic balm. 

XXI. 

So many nights thus fervently they met. 
When dewy stars all bright in heaven 

shone ; 
And many nights they paid Love's pas- 

s on-debt, 
By kissing this cold wall of senseless stone. 
And many months had passed, and they 

wei e yet 
As far apart as though no time had flown— 
Meeting when others lay all calm asleep. 
To joy themselves that were too wont to 

weep. 

XXII. 
'Twas cruel, cruel, thus to keep apart 
i These yearning two that loved each other 
I so! 

I Cruel to let them suff'er such a smart 
From passion-pangs as they did sadly 

know. 
O, Cupid ! Cupid ! honey- tip the dart 
With which thou givest lovers bosom-woe. 
Yet lived they thus, near not enough to 

mecT, 
Or to emlarace for love's caressings sweet. 



8 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



XXIII. 

'Till Pyi-amus did form within his breast 
One purpose startling bold! This was to 

bear. 
If she gave heeding to his warm reauest. 
His radiant Thisbe from her golden lair. 
And to some clime seclusive, from the pest 
Of wealth and grandeur, live in gladness 

there. 
Passing their lifetime blissfully away, 
Like two fair blossoms on a single spray. 

XXIV. 

So forth one eve most silently he stole, 
Through orange-arbors to the towering 

wall. 
He saw the golden moon above him roll. 
And one faint sparkle in his father's hall. 
As pale was he though over-joyed in soul ; 
He heard the nightmgale so sweetly call. 
Descanting lovidly in its rose's light- 
So woke be too with cries the echoes of 
the night. 

XXV. 
"Sweet, sweetest Thisbe," kept he whis- 
pering. 
As to outvie the Bulbul's liquid notes. 
And yet his sounded like the clarion-ring. 
Or bugle-challenge from their bronzed- 
throats. 
For far and wide the echoes seemed to 

fling 
Those tender accents. Yet as Zephyr doats 
Upon the luted name, he whispered oft 
That gentle word, each time more sweetly 
soft. 

XXVI. 
"Sweet Thisbe, Thisbe," whispered he 

again. 
" Sweet Pyramus ; " was answered full as 

low. 
" O, art thou there my maiden? First a 

pain 
Throbbed my young bosom with an an- 
guish woe 
That thou hadst heard me not ; but, ah ! 

how vain 
Was that weak feeling which too oft 1 

know." 
" Sweet Pyramus, sweet angel," sorrowed 

she, 
" Tis not thy voice this wall doth ban from 
me." 

XXVII. 
" O, cursed wall ! " he groaned ; " Would 

I could clutch 
Its stony throat, and dash it to the ground." 
"Oneace," shesaith; Why anger thee so 

much ? 
And open but again thy passion's wound." 
"Ah ! Thisbe, but my love for thee is such 
That were they mortal foes that thronged 
me round, 



I would pierce through them all to reach 

thy side- 
But this Goliath mocks my sheathed pride." 

XXVIII. 

" Then deem this wall is but a spirit-spite : 
And deem that we are loving in a dream. 
Nay, in the guerdon of our soul's delight. 
What may not be that happily may seem 
Its joyful opposite ? And bless the night 
That bringeth us Diana's lucent gleam. 
Nay, look at her, and vow as I do vow. 
To love as long as love doth teach us how." 

XXIX. 

" O more my gentle Thisbe, twofold more. 
Would I could realize for thy sweet sake. 
But. ah ! stern Truth is cantive to no lore 
Of tinsel fancies that we haply make. 
And yet while pining do I still adore 
The angel-guardian of my souls awake. 
Sweet, press thy lipo to this slim chink, and 

this 
Will soothe the soul thatliveth for its bliss." 

XXX. 

And hotly to an air admitting chink. 
His own lips tremulously did he press 
Bright star-lights, if you can, one moment 

blink. 
Fair moon, cloud-curtain up your loveli- 
ness, 
So none may view these lovers as they drink 
Their bosom's julip in such lip-caress. 
Joy on, srt'eet blossoms, thy untainted 

bloom. 
Too early dewed by hebenon of doom ! 

XXXI. 

And Hope in those pure happenings became. 

A brilliant star in Cupid's flrmanent. 

And Love, that tinged their cheeks with 

fawn-like shame, 
A winging Cherubin from Eden sent. 
And honey-balm their cloying lips did 

frame. 
Whilom their breathings like an Incense 

blent. 
Till Pyramus his purpose known did make. 
And pleadingly and softly wooing spake: 

XXXIL 

" O, look you, love, how much is in a kiss— 
A rapsody ! A Paradise of joy ! 
An ecstacy ! A pure eternal bliss ! 
That doth a heart with thrilling gladness 

buoy. 
Though love be life, yet life is naught to 

this ; 
It is the nectar of a hope's alloy— 
The pearl-spring bubbling to the clinging 

lip, 
For double souls in single fellowship. 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



9 



XXXIIl. 
" And yet alas our lips can never meet ! 
Howevermuch this happiness may mount ; 
However much we coo in cadence sweet; 
However much the weary days we count; 
However much forme, in its retreat, 
Thy love be purer than the crystal fount 
Whose waters are but quaffed by mighty 

kings ; 
However much we joy our passionings. 

XXXTV. 

" O, Thisbe; would'st thou have afearto flee 
With one who lives for thee— who loves 

thee so 
That he would sacrifice his life, were he 
Hut sure by such a dreadiul deed of woe. 
That he would bring true happiness to 

thee ? 
Aj'c be death's champion and be stricJcen 

low : 
The silent helmsman of the fatal bark. 
That steereth onward to the regions dark ! 

XXXV. 

"For, lov^e, without thee life would only 

leave 
The living semiolance of a gloomy pall. 
To siiroud me in its sable. And would 

grieve 
My lonely spirit by its woeful thrall. 
Thou art my very heart-throbs ! I receive 
From thee a lifetime's blissful festival. 
Sweet, answer me ; if but a single word. 
O, can it be that I remain unheard? 

XXXVI. 

'•Ah ! woe me thou art silent as is death ! 
When I had thought I would not hence 

alone. 
Perchance to Palestine, or Nazareth, 
Or to Samarah. But thy voice is fioAvn. 
I cannot now exhale thy balmy breath 
Forgive me, Thisbe; and I will atone 
For daring thus to speak of flight to thee; 
And I will swift depart to cross the Gali- 
lee." 

XXXV 11. 
"Nay, Pyramus ; such joy thy didst arouse 
At thy expressing, I could answer not. 
O, dost thou think I am but as a mouse. 
Fearing to stir? Or that I love this spot 
Which wnrhout thee were aye a charnal- 

house ; 
Nay . Pyramus ; my cheeks and brow are 

hot 
At such a thought that we shall flee away. 
O, would this night might herald such a 
day." 

XXXVITI. 
"Then morrow even be for flight prepared, 
And morrow eve be thou at Ninus' tomb. 



I It is a lonely place, but I have dared 

More than the darkness of its holy gloom 
1 To fear its si'ence. Though I never bared 
j J\Ij' scimetar to end some wretch's doom, 
Yet am I bold of heart and fear no foe ; 
To-morrow eve then, love ; love will it so." 

XXXIX, 

A.nd then and there they bade soft, sween 

farewells! 
Yet still remained to bid as many more. 
And many sighs, and many bosom swells ; 
And many vows, vowed full as oft before ! 
Then each the other tenderly re-tells. 
How much they did each other one adore. 
Sighing good-night a hundreth time again. 
When wist but once did bring them woe- 
ful pain. 

XL. 

May we not leave them to their own de- 
light? 
May we not leave them to their pleasure, 

cloying? 
May we not leave them in the cool of 

night- 
Love's purest bliss and lovers joys enjoy- 
ing? 
What though, alas! they could not then 

unite. 
Still were their lips, while thus divided, 

toying 
W^iththesweet nectarof each other's words. 
More musical than melody of birds. 

XLI. 

They spake of things which love alone de- 
sired : 

They whispered tales which only love 
can teach ; 

They breathed love so mucb they were in- 
spired. 

They dwelt on love so much, was each to 
each. 

Till even night was of their cooing tired. 

And of the day a respite did beseech. 

So Day came forth leadingthe virgin morn. 

Then they departed, love-joyed, but still 
forlorn 

XLI. 

'' Farewell, farewell !" sweet Thisbe sighed 

at last ; 
"Farewell, farewell!" he answered sadly 

back. 
" Farewell, farewell !" but her sweei voice 

had passed 
Beyond the confines of its joyful track. 
" Farewell, farewell, my Thisbe ! cooed he 

fast, 
And she but answered him "Alack ! alack ! 
So they divided on this honeyed night, 
Which had been sweetened by their chaste 

delight. 



10 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



XLTII. 

As some bold champion decked in bright 
array 

Of shining armor, spurs his charger nigh ; 

So had the golden l^nightof Morn and Day 

Witli flaming shield, now journeyed heav- 
en-high. 

And crimson clouds, like banners flutter- 
ing gay. 

Did herald his approaching in the sky— 

Wheref rom he came m pomp and glorious 
state. 

Beyond the portals of the Eastern Gate. 

XLIV. 

The virgin dawn soft kissed each blossom 

fair; 
For every flower joyed the pure caress 
Of balmy zephyrs in the sunny air. 
The branches bowed beneath their lus- 

ciousness 
Of mellow figs, ripe peach and juicy pear, 
Rich dates and muscatel. For now the 

stress 
Of genial Summer was upon the trees. 
Which maids might come and pluck in 

laughter ease. 

XLV. 

Sweet songsters chanted their melodious 

fill 
In mossy-floored groves, near trickling 

streajns ; 
Where fairest buds their odours did distill. 
And seemed to listen to their joyous themes. 
No grot was silent, and from hill to hill 
All things were beautiful as visioned 

dreams 
But not to Pyramus ; for in his breast 
The day had born a fearing and unrest. 

XLVI. 

And to his sense all things looked strange 

to him. 
So were the marble lions at the door. 
They glared so fiercely and so wildly grim. 
Tneir massive jaws seemed incarnate with 

gore. 
Each brilliantly illumined hall looked dim, 
Li lie to the navel of some temple hoar. 
Where fitful shadows seem gigantic ghosts, 
And crimson arras like advancing hosts. 

XL VII.' 

He saw red fields of gashed and slaughtered 

men. 
Whom cursed hatred did to war allure ! 
And he saw Daniel in the lion's den 
But mansrled horribly beyond the cure 
Of balm from Gilead. And was his ken 
Haunted with more than witches can 

conjure. 
Of woeful scenes, and maladies and pests. 
And reeking dead arisen from their rests ! 



XLVIII 

His glorious city seemed a mass of stones. 

Whereon the Ages mocked and gibbered 
loud! 

And all the kings of Babylonian-thrones, 

Did stalk before him in their gorgeous 
shroud. 

The halls resounded with convulsive 
moans. 

Like thunder rumbling through some ebon 
cloud ! 

Ten thousand Philistines seemed throng- 
ing there. 

Tightening their hold upon his clammj'' 
hair ! 

XLVIIII. 

At every rustle he would grasp his blade. 

And every moment did the blade unsheath ! 

Of tempered steel, and in Damascus made, 

He could have bent the foil into a wreath. 

He looked as pallid as a shrouded shade. 

For very fear he scarcely dared to breath. 

"This will not do," he moaned : "And I 
must ease 

With prayer my soul so haunt with phan- 
tasies ?" 

L. 

So treaded he through streets, where on 
each hand, 

Bazaars displayed their wealth to curious 
eyes. 

In gems from Ind, soft silks from Samar- 
cand ; 

Bright Persian-pearls, and Cathay's mer- 
chandise, 

Harps golden-stringed, and cimbrels from 
the land 

Where Cheops pyramids in glory rise. 

The ivory of Afric ; amber pale 

From the far Baltic or Circassian-vale. 

LI. 
Here massy targes formed for warriors 

bola. 
Flamed like ApoUo in the opal east . 
And here were jeweled vessels, fit to hold 
The richest nectar of Belshazzar's feast. 
And here were glossy tapestries, with 

gold 
An<1 silver broidering ; and scarcely least 
Pure jasper crosses for some fair devout. 
To nestle 'twixt her rounded bosom's pout. 

LII. 

And silken vestments for a Caliph-eld 
With purple tasstls drooping from their 

hem ; 
And also brightest lances unexcelled 
In all Damascus. Cimitars to stem 
The wildest nomads that have yet rebelled 
Against their tyrant king ; and with ingem 
Of emerald and ruby on their hilt. 
Fairer by far because of blood unspilt. 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



11 



LIII. 

And cuirasses with each their crimson- 
pi a me s. 

And armolets of chain-in woven mail ; 

And casketingsof Arab> -perfumes ; 

And palmers' scrips and virgin's bridal 
veil. 

Turbans, tiaras, from Serica-looras ; 

And holy censers, or some scripture tale 

Of gentle Ruth, or Adam's woeful fall ; 

Blazoned on panels for seraglio- wall. 

LIV. 

The musk of Thibet, shawls of Kaschi- 

mere, 
Golgonda's diamonds, and Ceylon's stones ; 
The gold of Saba, and Egyptian-myrrh, 
Maidiva's amber, and what Cochin owns 
In aloes. Hadramant's incense deai'. 
With other treasures still from other 

zones.— 
Far- brought in barques to Idumean ports. 
Of richest value and of brilliaiit sorts. 

LV. 

All these by Pyramus unnoticed were. 
Things which had nourished by their lux- 
uries 
Memphis. Persepolis, and Sidon. bare 
For him no sweet at raction. Wealth the 

seas 
Doth waft to golden climes, were glittering 

there- 
Sailed o'er the Tig is and the Euphrates. 
He oassed the Tower of Babel, yet saw it 

not. 
So blind was he to all— so love and fever 
hot. 

LVI. 
He stopped before a temple's lofty door ; 
The priests within were chanting hoy 

mass. 
He knelt him down upon the sacred floor, 
Fearing even its portal arched to pass. 
He tried to pray, but could not. In the 

core 
Of his swollen heart a something heavy 

was. 
Their very hymns his ears with thunder 

dinned. 
Seeming to say, "He need not pray who 

hath not sinned !" 

LTII. 

All heedlessly he rushed forth from the 
fane. 

And through the streets in seeming man- 
ner mad ! 

Then calmed himself, and wandered back 
again. 

But trembling still and piteously sad. 

" O, what a day," moaned he, "What 
dawn of pain! 



Such gloomy morrow mortal never had. 
Would it were eve, would it were eve at 

last ! " 
And thus his hours woefully he passed. 

LVIII. 

While Thisbe was all joy and from her 

throat 
There gushed as tender strains, as sweet a 

song. 
As ever winging minstrel sent afloat. 
Or amorous Favonians sighed along. 
And all the day as gladly did she dote 
O'er happy thoughts that through her 

mind did throng. 
Of Pyramus and all his sayings sweet. 
And of the arbor where they were to meet. 

LIX, 
While fragrant garlands did she weave 

herself 
Of lilies, columbines, and daffodils; 
And dewy daisies, yellow as the pelf 
Of mammon's < offers with its sordid ills. 
Of violets and tulips, till an elf 
She seemed or Flora, while her many trills 
Of love and laughter charmed the balmy 

air. 
So sweet she was ; so pure, so chastely fair. 

LX. 
There was a rill that wooingly did flow 
Its rippling waters lullingly along ; 
Where jessamines and honeysuckles low 
Above it twined their tressils in a throng ; 
And here this joyous morning did she go. 
While chanting tenderly Deborah's song. 
She seemed Rebecca at the chalice-well ; 
This happy one to whom such grief befell. 



LXL 

She stood upon the margin of this brook. 
Like gentle antelopes that gamboled nigh : 
Midst fragrant blossoms which did overlook 
Its crystal Avaters, as they gurgled by. 
Her name was Purity in Virtue's book. 
The very opal of love's temple high. 
While her fond heart kept fluttering at her 

side. 
Like a caged songster through its bars es- 
pied. 

LXII. 

And all the day her melody of voice 
Did thrill this cooling grot ; and even thus 
She warbled merrily her music choice. 
That made the winging songsters envious. 
What could she do but evermore rejoice? 
Since never any sign forwarneth us 
Of grief to come. Ah, better it is so ! 
Than happy joy should herald woeful woe. 



12 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



LXIII. 

She was belike a spirit of the skies, 

Or one Avhom Seraphims had giA^en mould. 

With face like theirs, like hair and shining 

eves, 
And snowy raiment that did round her fold. 
She was as radiant as a cloud which lies 
Upon a gloi-ious space of crimson-gold. 
She was a dawn, whose sunbeams giveth 

grace 
To all the loveliness of Nature's face. 

LXIV. 

For was she .ioyful on this summer's day. 
And like the bright and overflowing rill 
That rippling sang its ever lullins' lay, 
So did she srambol at her gayest will. 
She knew the night would see her far aw^ay 
With on e who was her only lover stU. 
O Pity, Pitv, for her make a moan ! 
Since to herself her s-orrows are unknown. 

LXV. 

And as her yearnings were more passionate 
So went she to the trystal long before 
The sun in splendor at the western gate. 
Had curtained him from ken of human lore. 
O joyful gladness that did not abate ! 
But like the sunshine lit her bosom's core. 
So did she watch the flaming orb descend. 
And purple clouds and gold in heaven blend. 

LXVT. 

And then anon, by one, and one, and one. 
Like beauty's features lying neath a psll. 
She saw Night's neralds following the sun. 
Through the majestic and infinite hall. 
And then she knew that evening had begun. 
For many stars, that seemed by spirit-call 
To have awakened, now their amber light 
Did grow resplendent through the ether 
light. 

LXVII. 

While like a shadow of the orb of day, 
She saw Cynthia with her sheeny breast 
Arise in beauty, and begin her way. 
With brilliant gems around her silver crest. 
Then other golden planets did inlay 
Heaven's cloudless canopy with rays cellest. 
O God, what loveliness a summer's eve. 
Doth in the boundless firmament inweave ! 

LXVIII. 
Decked in the splendor of a million beams 
Shrined midst this temple of resplendent 

spheres 
Stood gentle Thisbe ; while voluptuous 

themes. 
Did like a spirit joy her pinky ears 
With throbbing rapture; As the pearly 

streams 
That murmur where Parnnssus high up- 

rears 
His cloud-robed pinnacle. O loveliness ! 
She was like Psyche in her Cupid's press. 



LXIX. 

So did she wait as feverishly, as oft 

We guard some dear one on the couch of 

death. 
And kiss and soothe them with caresses 

soft. 
With each faint flutter of their dying breath. 
So did she ken Night's ministers aloft 
In their a blutions. ** He cometh now," 

she saith. 
But though her lipi glad syllabled the same 
So many times, no Pyramus yet came. 

LXX. 

Then heard she softest footsteps gently 

play 
Sweet melody Tipon the sward around. 
And coyfully she turned her eyes away. 
Full-flushing at this near approaching 

soui.d. 
And blushingly did list to hear him say : 
"At last, my dearest Thisbe, thou art 

found." 
But hearing no fond words she turned her 

head. 
And horror ! what she saw did ice her 

blood instead. 

LXXL 

There stood a glaring lion in the path 
Where she expected Pyramus to see ! 
His pyes a flery flame, for hunger-wrath 
Made them glow doubly, trebly brilliantly. 
Poor lonely Thisbe ! Even one that hath 
Ten hundred times thy strength yet well 

might be 
As frighted as thou wast at this dread 

sight. 
All pale she stood, too fearful then for 

flight. 

LXXII. 

And from his breast she saw a ruby flow 

Of warm life-current gushing; while a 
dart. 

By some bold hunter wdnged from pliant 
bow, 

Was there transfixed, yet had not pierced 
the heart. 

Or chance he was now struggling in death- 
throe? 

For as he stood there breathing, she saw 
start 

Forth at each breath a thicker purple- 
tide 

And at his feet a crimson pool she spied. 

LXXIII. 

The lion, hunger-crazed, did loudly roar ! 
Then licked his foamy lips, and onward 

came. 
But slowly, slowly, creeping on all four. 
Quaking the turf thereunder, his huge 

frame 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



13 



Prepared for one high leap. Nearer still 

more, 
With liis two lurid eye-balls all aflame. 
Till, as he crouched him for the plunder- 
spring. 
Poor Thisbo sped away like startled birds 
on wing. 

LXXIV, 
On, on she sped, before the baffled brute. 
Fear adding wings unto her speeding feet; 
On, on she fled, the lion in pursuit; 
But he, more cumbersome, was not so fleet. 
And loud she shrieked, but echo there 

seemed mute. 
Or else would not her wailing cries repeat 
Till Ttiisbe, hope inspired, did let fall 
Upon the grass, her silk-embroidered 
shawl. 

LXXV, 
Then on again she flew, nor turned her 

head 
To see if her poor ruse had gained success. 
Until she heard no more his thunder-tread. 
Then, hiding in a cavern's lone recess. 
With panting breast and features pallor- 
spread. 
She prayed to heaven for her sad distress. 
Straining her ears to hear the slightest 

sound. 
But nought she listed through the dark 
profound. 

LXXVI. 
And so she cowered in the ghostly gloom 
Of that cave-chapel; not a lucid beam 
Of moon or amber star-light, to ilhimine 
The weirdness of its shadows. Il did seem 
As if she had now sought iier living tomb. 
Her sepulchre forever. But no scream 
Would she issue again from out her breast. 
Fearing the lion thither would make quest. 

LXXVII. 

Now came the latent lover to his bale. 
Wan as some maidens at a trumpet's blare. 
Now came he as a pha tom through the 

vale. 
Amidst the dewy grass and blossoms there. 
His features like a tuberose growing pale; 
While cloying breezes kissed his clustering 

hair. 
•My steeds," quoth he. "Stand champing 

at the gate, 
I must quick on, nor chide her with the 

wait." 

LXXVITT. 
O, how intoxicating was the bloom 
Of hyacinths, and jonquils, and tiarebells. 
Of pansies and carnatioris, whose perfume 
Was wafted like an incense through those 

dells. 
They did not vrhisper to him of his doom. 
Though they were sobbing in their leafy 

cells. 



The nightingale had hushed his sorrow 

chant, 
The very air seemed sighingly to pant ! 

LXXIX. 

And swiftly as a leopard in speed. 
So neath where orange-boughs did inter- 
lace— 
Or fearful as a Tarquin bent on deed 
Of woeful purpose, did he quickly pace; 
O now, sweet Pity, weepingly thy meed 
Continue onward to the trysting-place ! 
Sigh, Pity, sigh! so we may finish through 
This lover-tale without so much ado. 

LXXX. 

His casque's plumes did kiss the bending 

trees. 
And by his side the shining scimitar 
Was clanging like a spirit in unease. 
And o'er him one pale, defying star. 
Whose influence doth guide men's argosies. 
Seemed flaming like a holocaust afp.r. 
An owl that until now had been as mute 
As tombed corpses, shrilled his whit-tu- 

whoot. 

LXXXI. 
Did he not pause ere that he entered in 
The arbor which some mulberries had 

formed? 
He whispered her sweet name, in words to 

win 
Diana's chastest nymph ; then cool and 

warmed 
Waited for her soft accents to begin 
Her melody upon his own. Till patience 

stormed 
When that she answered not. within he 

rushed. 
His locks dishevelled and his features 

flushed. 

LXXXII. 
And vainly sought her, for she was not 

there ! 
And vainly called her, since she answered 

not ! 
And vainly were his eyes in ghast despair 
Turned hither, thither, seeking every spot, 
Like to a tiger peering from its lair ! 
And madly did he press his temples hot ! 
Groaning meanwhile, "Ala^;. she is not 

here! 
Can she be false, my own, my Thisbe dear?" 

Lxxxin. 

The moon, as though his speech she under- 
stood. 
At these most anguished accents pierced a 

cloud ! 
And shed below an amber-shining flood 
Of glittering beams ; illumining the shroud 
Which folded all in gloom this sacred v»ood. 
As Pyramus' head was lowly bowed. 



14 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



His eyes became dead-fastened on a thing:. 
Which to the trampled grass below did flut- 
tering cling. 

LXXXIV. 

Slowly his orbs glared forward from their 

sphere; , ^ ■, ^ .i, 

A.nd from their sockets nearly started torth. 

Then moaned he sadly ! Piteous 'twas to 

Those woeful wailings. Not the hoary 

North 
Yet groaned more awfully unto the ear 
In its despite, when thunder-aimed and 

wroth. 
He recognized the bauble, crimson-dyed 
Nor stirred, so deeply was he horrified ! 

LXXXV. 

What gurgling moans did issue fron his lips. 
As his strained eyes kept glozening the 

shawl. 
It seemed a Gorgon, marbling to its tips 
His tortured being in such horrid thrall. 
He saw the grassy glumes with crimson 

drips 
All sprinkled over ere about to fall ! 
And then he roused himself and himself 

threw. 
Near the torn raiment bathed in life's dew. 

LXXXVI. 

He pressed the rubied garment to his 

breast ! 
Then to his lips, which did absolve the stain 
Of the warm blood thereon, 'twas madly 

pressed ! 
Kissing it often, his love's sorrow-gain. 
And then embraced it, deeming he caressed 
His Thisbe's form thereby. But all in vain. 
This frantic grief was surplus to the woe 
Which made his orbs still more intensely 

glow. 

LXXXVII. 
'Twas all too plain before his burning eyes. 
The place, the darkness, and the lion creep- 
ing 
Forward to claim his hunger's tender prize ; 
And she awaiting him; her vigil keeping 
In blissful expectation. Then her cries. 
When through the dusk she saw the lion 

leaping. 
The maddened beast— his very eyes grew 

dim 
At such dread thoughts, they were so true 

to him. 

LXXXVIII. 
" O lion fell !" he groaned, " Thou shaggy 

coward ! 
How much art thou misnamed most basest 

beast; 
OThisbe, Thisbe ! couldst thou be devoured 
By such foul fangs? O rare, angelic feast ! 



O wretched heart; thy honey n ow is soured ! 
What then awaiteth thee? Aye death were 

least; 
So it shall be. and this shawl is most meet 
To be around me my love's winding-sheet !" 

LXXXIX. 

He wrapped the silken fold around his 

breast. 
All a onizingly he wrapped it round. 
Then drew his blade from forth its steely 

nest. 
The only sheath as yet which it had found. 
He clutched it firmly parlying, "'Tisbest !" 
Then in his bosom made a ghastly wound. 
And once agaiu the reeking weapon 

sheathed. 
Ere the last time his joyless spirit breathed. 

LXXXX. 

O Magi heart-throbs why did ye fortell 
His woeful doom ? He was no wizard-seer, 
To comprehend thy low Chaldean-knell 
Or ravel the dark scroll of pa' lid fear 
For its foreshaddo wings. Ah well, 'twere 

well. 
If to soul-oracles we gave an ear ! 
Yet he was young, and who loves truly 

will 
Thoui2:h doubt and grief, love on as truly 

still. 

XCI. 
Quick Pity, Pity ! bear his form away ; 
So that it may not shock his lady's eyes. 
For see where fearfully she goes astray ; 
Nearer and nearer, even now she hies, 
O Spirits Spirits, wing him far I pray ! 
Too late, too late, she is where low he lies; 
Where low he lies, all deathly pale and 

cold. 
What scene of borrow for her to behold ! 

XCII. 

Not long her eyes did vainly gaze and seek. 
Some spell Medean drew them to the 

ground. 
One moment did her tongue refuse to 

speak. 
Her orbs still fastened on the lover fovmd! 
Then from her bosom burst a thrilling- 
shriek 
Of deepest anguish ; as she madly wound 
Her trembling arms around his bloody 

form. 
That lovely shape which was no longer 

warm. 

XCIII. 
"O Pyramus, ray Pi^ramus, 'tis he 
With this red shawl around him for a 

sheet. 
Dear Pyramus, look up! I'm near to thee. 
And yet thou speakest not, my own, my 

sweet ! 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



15 



Art thou so cold my love, so cold to me? 
Thou can'st not surely love me more I weet? 
Sweet Pyrunius, unlid thy radiant eyes 
And see how Thisbe for thy sorrow dies ! 

XCIV. 

"My lord, mj' master, O my prince, awake ! 
My tcentle husband that was never wed, 
Sweet Pyramus pray give me leave to take 
The frankincenseunprofferedfrom thy red, 
But chilly lips. O eyes in sorrow's lake ! 
Reflect no brightness now his light is fled. 
My joy, my tiope, my passion's virgin-sin, 
O that I could thy ears atfright and din !" 

XCV. 
And then she wept, since sorrow could not 

speak. 
A crystal fountain never seeming dry. 
And like the dew-drcps on a rose's cheek. 
So flowed the liquid from each swimming 

eye. 
What could she do, but choose to uie and 

seek 
Her Jover Pyramus in death thereby. 
Tis seldom frost will nip one bud alone. 
When fragrant twins upon the stem nave 

grown. 

XCVI. 
And never yet did any votarist. 
Do greater worship at a holy shrine. 
Or never yet a tender virgin kissed 
Our blessed Saviour on tlie cross divine, 
W^ith more devotion, than did Thisbe 

wist 
Above her silent lover. But no shine 
Was in his eyes, no purple on his lips. 
And clammy cold were all his finger-tips. 

XCVII. 
On his damp forehead kisses hot she 

pressed. 
And on the pallor of each velvet cheek ! 
Then madly thiew herself upon his breast. 
All crimson-stained, as if she there would 

seek 
One spark of life not flickered like the rest ! 
And she did smtoth his locks till they were 

sleek 
As glossy silk ; then moaned, '* O, why am I 
Left here to live, when he for me did die? 

XCVIII. 
"Did he not deem thnt I had perished too? 
When this frail shawl so plainly tells the 

tale. 
O Pyramus, my own. my ever true ! 
That such a sorrow should be bliss'bale. 
Sweet Pyramus, awake, awake! undo 
Thy heavy stupor. Blush to be so pale. 
And chide me that I was so tec rifled, 
Seest thou not that I am by thy side? 



XCIX. 

"Couldst thou awaken from this seeming 

trance. 
Or speak a loving word, or haply sigh. 
Else will this sorrow, like a poisoned lance. 
Pierce through my bosom, till it anguished 

die. 
What should it be that blanche i thy coun- 
tenance. 
And stole the roses from their arbors nigh ? 
Winged far to heaven from thy silent self 
Thy spirit essence and thy passion elf ? 



C. 

me not that frighted far I 



" Nay, chide 
fled 



led. 



For the gaunt lion was upon my track, 
j With roar most terrible and famished. 

Then, dearie, see how fleetly 1 fled back. 
' How pale thou art! fair as a godlyhead 
I In marble silentness Alack ! alack ! 
' He speaketh not, he must be dead indeed, 
I My Pyramus, my besom's joy and need ! 

j CI. 

"Yes, he is dead !" all weepingly she saith. 
"He died alas in a,gony for me ! 
How fair he is. how beautiful in death ; 
Blossom S' on faded, sorrow was to thee 
Like to the desert is the siroc-breath. 
That blasteth all things which thereon may 

be. 
Like to the galley is the stormy wave. 
Like to the feeble is the yawning grave. 

OIL 
" Yes, he is dead ! while I am here alive. 
As if thy death were not an end to both. 
Yes, thou art dead! as if I could survive 
The beauteous being of my maiden-troth. 
O joyful fruit, on which my own could 

thrive. 
To wither like thee I shall not be Ipth. 
The self-same blade that shrieved the3 of 

thy sweets. 
Within my breast a like confessor meets. 

} UIII. 

"No brighter sword yet clave a nobler 

breast ! 
No whiter hand did ever sheathe the same! 
Alas ! Alas! that it should find its rest 
Within the scabbard of this pulseless frame. 
What princely palace for so foul a guest ! 
That stole its spirit by a woeful claim. 
What tabernacle was there here, what 

shrine 
For all love's offerings and gifts divine !' 

UIV. 

And then she flrmly clasped the sanguined 

steel. 
Preparing for her purpose, saying, "Now 
Will T my true love-vo vvs forever seal. 
Yea, Pyramus, now end my pUghted vow." 



16 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE. 



Then soft beside him did she gently kneel, 
As if she could not look at him enow. 
First pressed its hilt against her bosom 

white, 
Then in that bosom hid the blade from 

sight ! 

CV. 

Thus their life's currents mingled into one. 

Staining the buried roots of one fair ti'ee. 

Which branched above them its cool shad- 
ows dnn: 

The sacred foliage of the mulberry. 

And so their blissfulness by death was 
won. 

Ah! how their passion ended woefully! 

And for that sad night's meeting and mis- 
take. 

They suffered more than common bosom- 
ache. 

CVI. 

And like a huge Olympic-sentinel, 
The brazen-portalled city behind far, 
Within whose confines did these lovers 

dwell. 
Now seemed to mock the rising mo ning- 

star. 
The Euphrates flowed by with mournful 

swell. 
Upon its voyaging to Istakkar. 
And silver-footed Morning in the east. 
Now did prepare her for a joyous feast. 



CVII. 

Muse, chant for them an acathistus-hymn ; 
And deck their marble brows with flowers 

fair. 
And gira with snowy veils each graceful 

limb. 
And close thei r eyes and lips of ruby rare. 
Come let us bear them to some temple dim, 
And so perform our rites of sorrow there! 
For this shall be a day of holiness. 
Wherein we may our ruthful woe express. 



CVIII. 

Some wandering Jews to holy Mecca bent. 
Passed in their pilgrimage near Ninus' 

tomb. 
And first discovered them. Ah, how the 

event 
Brought over Babylon a woeful gloom ! 
What sighs were breathed, and what tears 

were spent 
By virgins when they heard these lovers' 

doom. 
One would have thought none yet as such 

had died. 
There grief was so, and spread so far and 

wide 



CIX. 

Yea. far and wide, and with the dawning 

day. 
The baneful news were spread upon the 

land. 
Till even galleys from the busy quay 
Of Syracuse, by soft peolians fanned. 
Had heard of their sad fate, and had to say 
How cruel 'twas that death should be the 

band 
Of their pure love ; that Hymen's chanting 

bell 
Became replaced by sorrow's tolling knell. 



ex. 

And next day all the people far and near. 
Came thronged in thousands to the funeral. 
The virgin maids slow followed on the bier. 
And held the silken tassels of its pall; 
While noble youths all sadly filled the rear. 
And in one jewelled casket was the shawl 
Which was the cause of this most dire 

event. 
So onward the long train of mournei's went. 

CXI. 

They brought them to an altar, in a fane; 
And on that altar they threw nard and 

spice. 
Then chanted saddest hymns the weeping 

train. 
As upward curled the perfume-sacrifice. 
Then round the temple went they, two 

amain ; 
Still siu'jjing woefully. They circled thrice 
The altar fuming, then together massed. 
The arching portal of the temple passed. 



CXII. 

So in one sepulchre they both were placed. 
And when the cold turf hid their forms 

from sight, 
Many a fragrant wreath the headstone 

graced ; 
Garlands of roses and of lilacs- white. 
And silently they all their stens retraced. 
In snowy folds of sorrowing bedight. 
A 'great oppression seemed to brood and 

brood 
Within each bosom, and its holj^ mood ! 



CXIII. 

The sallow priests unloosed their abanet. 
And went into their somber cells to pi'ay. 
The tender virgins let their locks of jet 
Over their shoulders fall in disarray. 
And heavy gloom, as when the sun is set 
Heyond the far Levant, for many a day 
Was known within the walls of Babylon, 
At what these two hope worshippers had 
done. 



THE POET'S DREAM. 



17 



CXIV. 

Now lovers halo them in every plaint. 
Which they do offer up to Cupid's ears. 
And many, many, forced by harsh res- 
traint 
To plight like them their tender vows with 

tears, 
Speak of them with their voices pity-faint, 
For memory of love but love endears: 
And hearts may truer grow, if they in 

youth 
Experience but a touch of sorrow's truth. 



THE POET'S DREAM. 



A poet once pilgrimagred forth to a land. 
Where the fairest of flowers did blossom at 

hand. 
Like the nightingale chanting apart all its 

lays, 
He had come to this Eden to pass his last 

days. 
And within a balm-bower of myrtle and 

rose. 
He languished himself till he sank to repose. I 
Then a dream fair as golden clouds floating • 

in air, 
Did visit his senses and hallow him there, i 
The purpose of life, and the glory of Truth, i 
The beauties of nature, the gladness of i 

youth. 
The harmony wedding the whole Universe, 
Did spirits of heaven unto him rehearse. 

FIRST SPIRIT. 

Sweet the wind of the north ; 
Sweet the wind of the south ; 
Yet the perfume of his mouth 
Still more fragrant issues forth. 

Fair his eyes, gold his hair. 
Look what beauty lights his face. 
Hast thou ever seen such grace ? 
As hath God imprinted there. 

SECOND SPIRIT. 

Like an angel from above 
Is his spirit in this vale ; 
He is Love, and dreameth love. 
Of which love do I exale. 

Like the dew- pearl on the flower. 
(Cheering it in its decay. 
So his passion is the power 
Which shall calm this life away. 

THIRD SPIRIT. 

Above his form are laid 
All garlands we could braid ; 
And balmy-breathing sighs 
Of blossoms kiss his eyes. 



Morpheus, god of sleep. 
W^ho doth Slumber's treasures keep, 
Hush thou with thy poppy-rod 
All the echoes of the sod. 



THE THREE SPIRITS. 

Thou with Apollo's cast. 
And with Hyperion's curls; 
In Thy Wisdom's casket hast 
Beauty's divinest pearls ! 

Thou with a godly face ! 
Thou with a godly soul ! 
Thou of a mortal race, 
Art part of a mystic whole. 

Prophet of creation. ; 
Blessed with a devination. 
Potential and sublime! 
Thou art a son of Time ! 

Existing perchance 
On earth in a trance ; 
And dying on earth 
To have a new birth. 

Be thou passionless in mind ; 
Be thou fathomless in heart. 
Till another of thy kind 
Rend the veil apart. 

Alchemyst and Magi-seer ; 
Prophet eternal ! 
Who but whispereth here 
Of realms supernal. 

The world is thine. 
And thou of it. 
Bow at Creation's shrine. 
Worship and love it ! 

Thou art a link. 
Of the God-chain ! 
Till the vastness sink. 
Of heaven again. 

O primal from other! 
Here is another 
Who doth not know 
That which is so. 

Prav thou reveal then 
The Mystery. 
The Book unseal then 
Of all History. 

While dreams in number, 
His mind encumber. 
Make thou his slumber 
The birth of new lore. 
Make this reposing, 
Tne final closing 
Of frailest supposing 
Of his before. 



18 



THE POET'S DREAM. 



Chaos. 

I am the mother 

Of this fair earth ; 

Tis but another 

To which I gave birth. 

When she was born 

He did adorn 

Her with high beauty ; 

Blessing the duty 

She must perform. 

Through sunshine and storm, 

Saying to Light : 
"Shine thou in splendor 
Through infinite space ; 
And to her render 
Eternal grace." 

Saying to Day : 
"Be thou the glory 
She shall possess ; 
Not transitory ^^ 
In radiantness." 

Saying to Night: 
"Be thou the cover 
Which must instill 
Around her, above her. 
The balm of my will!" 

Saying to Clay : 
"Thou Shalt have seed. 
Both life and a shape. 
Around which indeed 
High beauty I drape." 

Saying to Earth : 
"O thou new-born! 
Beautiful new one ! 
For thee I adorn 
The skies with a sun. 

" For thee shall have birth, 
A transcendent moon, 
Stars, too, will shine. 
Thus making my boon 
Still more divine. 

"An atom-germ 
Within thy breast, 
Low as the worm, 
Shall blossom the rest. 

" For thy sweet endeavor. 
Flowers shall bloom ; 
Breathing forever ^^ 
Delicious perftime." 

So was my latest 

By Him created. 

Nor smallest, nor greatest. 

Yet contemplated. 



EARTH. 



He spake thus to me, 
When first He knew me : 
"Forward thou, forward! 
The center toward 
Of azure space. 
Roll on forever, 
Yea, ceasing never 
Thy unnoticed pace. 

"Forward thou, forward! 
Space-center toward 
Forever roll. 
Like to the spirit 
Man shall inherit, 
Yeclept the soul." 

TIME. 

I am Time, 
The king of kings. 
Vast, sublime. 
Are my wings. 

Like a giant 
Do I reign ; 
Self-reliant 
In my domain. 

Grief and Glory, 
False and Truth. 
In my story 
Find their ruth. 

PAST. 

I am the Past, 
First-born of Time ; 
Into mould did I cast 
All things sublime. 

Hero-men and god-men 
My sceptre hath swayed 
Who, now and then, 
Still crave my aid. 

But I am aging. 
A million years more, 
And Death will be wagmg. 
My reign of before. 

PRESENT. 

I am the Present, 
Frail, evanescent; 
Now with the man living. 
Now with him not. 
Yet always giving 
Life to each spot. 

Ere long however 
He ceasest to be ! 
While I forever 
Am eternity. 



THE POET'S DREAM. 



19 



DEATH. 

I am called Death ! 
Time knows my sway. 
The warmth of his breath. 
Is the life of thy clay. 

Created with Time, 
United coeval ; 
Judger of sin and crime. 
Of good from evil. 

Or sooner or later 
Thou reachest my land ; 
By Will of a Greater 
Which none understand. 

LOVE. 

A potential Trinity 
Of Highest Divinity, 
Shrined in infinity, 
Created me Love ! 
Forever as vernal. 
In beauty eternal, 
1 dwell in supernal 
Glory above. 

I am of thy spirit. 
Refulgently near it. 
To lighten and cheer it 
Upon its life- way. 
1 am of thy being. 
Or staying or fleeing ; 
And for thy unseeing. 
The sight of thy clay. 

SOUL. 

I am the fate 

That maketh thee mourn ; 
By Love, and not Hate, 
Eternally born. 

The essence inspiring 
Thy mind wiih God's truth ; 
Which thou wert desiring 
Ever from youth. 

lam thy life 
In mortality's strife ; 
Thy glory and breath 
Past earthly death. 

Look thou before thee ! 
One doth adore thee 
Frail one of heart. 
Look thou beyond thee ! 
A voice doth respond thee. 
And tells thee thou art. 

FUTUKE ETERNAL. 

I await thee 
Child of earth. 
So to mate thee 
With immortal birth. 



For thy clay- 
Is the all 
Must decay 
Neath the pall. 

Be thj' soul life's star. 
Be pure Love thy guide. 
To the realms afar 
Where Beatitudes abide. 

I am done, till when 
Thou knowest death's doom ; 
Eternally then 
Thy life to resume. 

THE THREE FIRST SPIRITS. 

Poet awake 

From dreams of beauty ! 
Thyself again betake 
To earthly duty. 

Mortal immortal ! 
Immortal mortal ! 
Not yet for thee the portal 
Of Heaven shall open. 

Immortal being! 
With immortal seeing ! 
The minutes are fleeing 
Forever to never. 

Awake ! awake ! 
From dreams of beauty. 
Thyself again betaKe 
To earthly dutj*. 

Unbar thy pearly gates, O Sleep, 
For now the glorious day 
Doth slowly down the western steep 
Make his transcendent way. 

[They vanish.] 

POET WAKES. 

In my waking hours 

T did not exist ; 

Since in slumber have dreams. 

Sent by divine powers, 

My soul cleared from mist. 

I behold the worth 

Of our soul-aspire. 

And that mightiest themes, 

Are but dawnings on earth 

Of a glory higher. 

Something above us, 
Almightily High ! 
A godliness of Holiness ! 
A spiritual form of us. 
And glorious thereby ! 

Mystically created. 
Sublimely ideal! 
Not yet in lowliness 
Mind-contemplated 
To the true real. 



20 



MARS. 



The present's veiling 
Of Wisdom forever ! 
Unseen, not unwondered 
By mortal ones wailing 
In fruitless endeavor. 

Passion-presented 

Unto our spirit ! 

Till death's portal sundered, 

Then the repented 

Bliss eterne inherit. 

Beauty most glorious ! 
Spirit victorious! 
Both daily and nightly. 
Attend me as brightly. 
Forever beside me. 
Divine me and guide me. 

Beauty eternal ! 
Transcendently vernal ! 
My bosom is pouring 
Forth its adoring, 
Its worships, its lowly 
Thoughts for thee wholly. 

Beauty divinest ! 
Of radiance that shinest 
Above me, around me. 
Intensely crowned me 
With dew-droDS of glory. 
From God's balsam story. 
Arise, supercede me ! 
Adorn me, and lead me 
Where brightness is brightest, 
Where thou now residest 1 



MARS. 



I have read there is a clime. 
Far bej'ond our realms of time ; 
Which the children of a race. 
Fair of form and fair of face. 
Have inhabited ! ere earth 
Knew itself a Chaos-birth. 

For one night a spirit came. 
Softly, to my sleeping frame ; 
And presented me a scroll, 
Wherein speaking to the soul. 
It related of this land 
Things which fe w may understand. 



I perused it through and through. 
While there often came the dew 
On my brow and on my cheeks. 
Like the dew of mountain-peaks. 
Through and through and still I read. 
Till two days and ni->ht had fled. 

Never food had 1 required. 
Never drink had I desired. 
Never sigh or never word, 
From my lips were ever heard ; 
But my eyes were as if wrought 
In this scroll of life and thought. 



And 1 read as you shall read. 
If you give my verses heed; 
And control your spirit so 
That it shall not sorrow know- 
Never know of drink or food. 
While in this intensest mood. 

" We are mortals of a star. 
Which is in the azure far; 
And among eternal stars. 
Named by thee the planet Mars. 
Ere the Universe knew earth, 
Did we know a mortal birth. 

" The Creator did create 
For us neither chance or fate. 
To impede oar mind's progress ; 
Or its thought's immortal stress. 
But we live like thee and die. 
To inhabit realms more high. 

'• Incompatible with truth. 
May be our immortal youth ; 
Yet we grow not old or age. 
And no battle do we wage; 
Though you name us here above. 
Star of war and not of love. 

"Not unknown art thou to us. 
For our mind hath blessing thus ; 
That each latter world of space. 
And its new-created race. 
Shall be as a page indeed. 
For our higher minds to read. 

"And we know thy epochs' all ! 
Ever since the woeful fall 
Of the fii'st created man ; 
Marring His eternal plan. 
His divine and holy hope. 
For man's still immortal scope ! 



I perused each mystic leaf. 
Trembling with a holy grief ; 
While the sunshine came and went. 
Like a light evanescent. 
Moon and stars did rise and set. 
In the vaults of azure-jet. 



" You must wait the day of doom 
Ere uprising from t'he Tomb ; 
We deposite all our cliarms. 
In a spirit radiant arms. 
Since we do not sin, we know. 
Never Judgment Day or woe. 



MARS. 



21 



■' Garments we have never worn ; 
And our locks are still unshorn, 
Which, luxuriant in gold, 
Bris^htly drape our beauteous mould. 
And our eyes are brighter than 
Any stars your poets scan. 

" Though we know a day and night, 
'Tis almost perpetual light ; 
From the rising of the sun. 
'Till doth set the other one. 
Does our work begin and end; 
And with joy and gladness blend. 

'* Not unlike thee do we live ; 
Though our Nature here doth give 
Things of purer form and shape. 
Flowers do our valleys drape, 
Of a fairer hue and bloom ; 
And a richer still pei'fume. 

'All which thou hast ever known, 
Snruna: or born from earth alone ; 
All which thou hast ever dreamt. 
Is not from our clime exempt. 
Beautiful beyond the guess 
Of thy earthly loveliness. 



"For thy sins at Nazareth 
Did His Son know moi'tal death. 
Yes ye crucified the Son 
Of the One. Almighty One ; 
As intent to make thy fall. 
Lower still than Satan's all I 

"Heard ye not his voice divine 
From the panomphean shrine 
Of the azure skies above. 
Hailing him in voice of love? 
Oh the blindness of thy eyes. 
Ever frail and never wise! 

"Ye have had debasing laws. 
And base martyrs for their cause ; 
Ye have glorified some men. 
With the lyre and with the pen; 
Who in one imperial day. 
Fifty thoiisand self's did slay. 

" Though your Caesars live iu dust, 
Is it right or is it just. 
That you wonder at the deeds 
Of those still Barbarian creeds? 
Better far to supplement 
Actions great, with great intent ! 



" It is true our Wisdom-seers, 
Cannot know of higher spheres. 
For It is the Will of One, 
That until our life be done. 
We shall only knowle Ige know. 
Of the younger spheres below. 



'* Nought can you immortalize 
Till another planet rise 
In the iiifinital space, 
And thereon another race. 
Then ye shall be gifted, too. 
With a wisdom-giory new. 



"And thou to us vvert a gem. 
Sparkling in the diadem. 
Round the azure brow of Space, 
Were it not that we thus trace 
From our finity to thine. 
By the will of a divine. 

" We have multitudes of ships. 
Kissed by the old Ocean's lips; 
Deep canals of broad extent. 
To connect each continent; 
Yet we are a single race. 
Like in form and like in face. 

*' Pigmies were thy giants old. 

Which the Hebrews did behold. 

To the statue of our kin. 

Thy St. Christophers begin 

To approach our mould sublime. 

Aye endowed with beauty prime. 



" Time is past when Magi-men, 

In their egotistic ken. 

Thought the sun but shone for them; 

And each brilliant star a gem. 

To attend and coronate 

The calm night in somber state ! 

"But through syllables of grief. 
Have ye come to learn belief; 
But in hierogliphs of woe, 
Scanned Idolatory below. 
But in dungeons of gloom. 
Let thy only wisdom bloom. 

"For it was a poet blind, 
Who possessed a lofty mind, 
And revealed to human kin 
The debasedness of sin. 
Yet he was alone a spark, 
In thy undessolving dark. 



" We have palaces in height 

Of thy loftiest mountain site; 

And they are of every hue. 

Like the gorgeous skies which shew. 

In the morn and in the night. 

Every tint of Iris light. 



"And the triad of a soul. 
Who composed it in a whole; 
A centennial chant of ruth. 
The subiimest still in truth. 
From the lowest, to rehearse 
Of the highest Universe ! 



£2 



MARS. 



•' While the greatest poet-sage. 

Massing every voiceless age, 

With the trJory ot his lime ; 

Did transci-ihe in thoughts sublime. 

Every passion soul on earth, 

By his own immortal birth. 

*' Yet however they descried 

Contemplated, glorilied; 

They were bounded in the sphere. 

Of a nomad life of feai% 

With their thoughts at constant quest, 

In the oryal of their breast. 

" Mystically mystical ; 
Beautifully beautiful ; 
Sublimated to a bright. 
And uncompreh ended might. 
Yet you think Omniscience, 
As in form and not in sense. 

•' Howsoever you transcend, 

Mortal hope and mortal end ; 

Howsoever you trespass. 

Though in thought, thy earthly mass ; 

Ye cannot as yet soar high. 

But in passion-hopes thereby ! 

'■ Howsoever you believe . 
Mortal one is made to grieve ; 
Or believe a primal curse, 
Shroudeth round the Universe ; 
Ye shall never elevate 
Thy mortality of fate ! 

** Howsoever you may pray. 
For the last Judicial Day ; 
Howsoever you may weep. 
When awake and when asleep ; 
Ye shall never know pure love, 
Till ye reach the realms above I 

"We are of a higher cast. 
Than thy planet moulded last; 
We are of a higher thought 
Than thy being grossly wrought. 
And a purer life we claim, 
Since we never fell in shame ! 



*' The convex of every frame. 
Is but thy complex the same ; 
In the seeming form of things. 
Is thy time philosophings. 
Of the inward or externe, 
Nought your comprehensions learn 

*' You will doubt what you descry ; 
Senseless statues deify. 
Make the purpose of thy will, 
Both in air and water still. 
Kecompensing oft yourself, 
Less by glory, than by pelf ! 

" Y^ou convolve a truth away ; 
And dissimulate the day 
by a paler glare of night ; 
Like the phantom form of sight. 
Prophesize or revelate. 
On the afterward of fate ! 

'And the consumnation of 

All thy soiritual love. 

Ends at last in pass on bliss. 

Is nought heavenly but this ! 

Since I'latonical distrust. 

Brings thee early death and dust ! 

'And the yearnings of the best. 
Often ends in mortal zest. 
It is unrfeniable — 
It is sadly base as well- 
That they only ever strive. 
For the century alive. 

"Like the image in the glass. 
Is the earthly life you pass ; 
Life and death you concentrate 
In a sole predestined fate. 
Finding neither soul nor mind, 
In a pure diviness shrined ! 

"All thy glory is a myth ; 
Though it be thy reason's pith. 
From the Biblicans of old, 
To the Grecians manifold, 
You still doubly doubt belief. 
Binding truth in sorrow's sheaf t 



"While our glory understood. 
Both in man and womanhood. 
Makes us live a life of .truth. 
Dying all in bloom of vouth. 
So that thus we may rearain. 
Life 'neath his immortal reign ! 



"And as since your lips can blind 

Part the visions of the mind. 

You consider sight as frail 

As a tinsel vapor-veil. 

W'hith the Bunlight brings in air. 

Then dissolves to nothing there I 



" Egypt's circle once could be 
lliei bgli phed eternity. 
So are endless circles spread. 
Yet segmented overhead; 
Millions, tens of milliions, spheres. 
Numbering as many years! 



"And as since your lips can meet. 
Like in bitterness and sweet; 
You believe in the extremes. 
Both in certainties and dreams. 
In the actual and not. 
The remembered and forgot. 



MONTEZUMA, 



23 



"And as since your hands are twain. 

But in will and not in i)aia; 

You believe in difference 

Of the he irt and of the sense ; 

Think thy reason and the heart. 

Of the frame a different part. 

'And as since your feet are fit 
But to stand and LOt to sit ; 
You believe in standin.i? still, 
As a silence of the will. 
That a motion is but done. 
By its reasoning upon. 



" Since you weep for the interred ; 
Wtep for melodies unheard ! 
Since your mirth is frailly spent ; 
Laugh at joys evanescent ! 
Since you beautify the high ; 
Beautify the beauty nigh ! 

"Since you glory in the song 
Of the forest wringing throng; 
Glory in the poet's heart, 
Singing melodies apart! 
Since you glory in the birds, 
Glory in the prophet-words ! 



" Know ye not that an impulse 
Hath its feverish tumults? 
That an action or a deed. 
Is a moments passion-seed? 
And that courage is a dre^s. 
Worn in life's imminent stress? 



"And of theintenser night. 
Following existence bnght 
And of the resplendent day, 
Following that night away. 
It is better still unknown. 
For the good of life alone ! 



*' Lo, you never must confine 
Thoughts to dust or stars which shine 
Lo. you never must begin. 
By the scorn of mortal kin ! 
Never life on earth commence. 
By a bitterness cf sense ! 



*And of the Almighty One, 
And of His Supremial Son ; 
Co-existent and divine. 
Where beautitudes do shine! 
They on earth are mystery. 
Known when ye shall cease to be ! 



" When your halleluyas rise. 
They are voices of the skies. 
W^hen the anthems low are said. 
They are breathings of the dead. 
And thy sacrifices done. 
Oft were better not begun. 



"So, we only lift the veil 

From the doubts your mind assail 

I'artly unreveal belief, 

To reduce thy mortal grief! 

Partly unreveal the plan 

And divinity of man !" 



"Not in purpose of mind; 

Idealities defined ; 

Not in phaniomsies of thought 1 

Nor in hopes as visions wrought. 

Is existence realized ; 

And its glory truly prized ! 



Thus was written in the scroll. 
For our still immortal soul. 
Like a voloe, which in the night, 
Echoeth from site to site. 
So this warning, sphere to sphere, 
Came to greet us mortals here ! 



" Beyond golden reach of morn. 
Beyond fiery planets born ; 
Beyond galaxies which roll. 
Like the passions of the soul. 
Ye must seek the Unrevealed; 
Past the portals azure-sealed ! 

"Can ye be oblivious to 
All the Universe doth shew? 
Give consistency to chance. 
Which attended circumstance? 
Say thy weakness is not so. 
When we read thy hearts below ? 

"Since you mystify the dew ; 

Mystify 'the flower too ; 

Since you glorify a deed ; 

Also glorify the seed ! 

Since you bles? a blooming plant. 

Bless Its balmy ministrant ! 



MONTEZUMA. 

Why do you still surround your king. 
From his high seat so falling low ? 
The most debased and abject thing. 
Wiihin the walls of Mexico. 
And they— they whom I raised to power. 
Second to my own self alone- 
Have mocked me in this bitter hour. 
Because they would u})snrb my throne. 
What ! have I then so fallen to this? 
That they who once my i oot would kiss. 
And bow them down in humbled pride. 
Or servile fear w hen I did chide— 
They being scarcely less than knaves. 
And scarcely more tnan piteous slaves. 



24 



MONTEZUMA. 



Would they now dare to raise a hand 
Against their ruler ; though he be 
Fitted no more such to command, 
So weakened by his misery? 
Let them beware ! My sullied crown 
Hath power yet to smite them down ! 

Once I mused time in cloistered walls. 

Attired in darkest hooded-garb; 

But I aspired to palace halls, 

And won them by my arrow's barb. 

I mingled with ambition's thought. 

The calmness of a priestly face ; 

But I was stern and hard in ought 

Where goodness sometimes finds a place. 

I deemed myself more nobly wrought 

Than others of my kindred race ; 

And in that dream— or what you will— 

And in that madness of the brain ; 

I cherished in my bosom sti 1. 

'Midst rancor and amidst disdain, 

A hope that was not all in vain. 

I left that life's solemnity, 

I sometimes called a holy tomb; 

I left that monestary gloom. 

And threw aside the austerity 

That therein 1 was forced to assume. 

Not that such life pleased me not well. 

Or that I shunned a friar's cell ; 

Their simple fare, their placid peace. 

Which makes that life a pensive ease. 

Have pleased me more than 1 can tell. 

But those rude, dusky cells confined 

The thoughts bred in my fiery mind. 

The air therein the more represt. 

That which I carried in my breast ; ; 

The seethina: and ambitious guest, 

Which would not give me nightly rest. 

I dreamt at night— my thoughts of day 

At night took shape and came in dreams. 

So real that e'en now it seems 

I see them yet. Away ! Away ! 

Thou phantom forms of seeming clay ! 

Of what did my dark thoughts comprise 

That made such fitful dreams arise ? 

O what I dreamt was but the truth 

Of thoughts which I had formed in youth. 

When feverish on my cot I lay, 

And passed sometimes the livelong day 

In moveless waking, musing fit. 

Scarce conscioiis of my earthly being. 

Through my mind's chambers then did flit 

Things most too dreadful for sight-seeing; 

And on my soul did heavely sit. 

And torture it, yea bit by bit. 

Till e'en that was not my own. 

And weighed within me like a stone ; 

Why did I not for ail atone? 

When such atonement had the power 

To purify the soul of all. 

Instilled there in an evil hour ; 

But why such scenes as these recall ? 



In youth we try to waste the strength. 
We know that time will claim at length. 
By acts of violence and vice : 
Which of themselves alone suffice 
To rack the frame with suffering, 
Ere it attains the years of age. 
Adulteries which always bring 
Revenge anon with fierce rage. 
And pale the hairs, and sink the eyes. 
Wherein this sternest moral lies ; 
And clam the brow, and thin the frame. 
Till death its helpless victim claim. 

I cannot say that I was such. 

For I loved life and health too much. 

To riot with myself and do 

That which gives always cause to rue. 

Besides my thoughts did still preserve, 

Unshaken m its first belief, 

The hope which nought on earth could 

swerve ; 
And soothed e'en my early grief. 
You ask why heart so young should grieve. 
When all in life seems bright and fair? 
It were if one cloud gloomed not there, 
Who in its somber fold doth weave 
More than youi- bosom dare believe. 
It were— if to all Nature nigh, 
The soul had but enjoying eye. 
It were— if to birds' matin song. 
The soul would only listen long. 
It were— if midst the blooming flowers. 
The soul would pass its pensive hours. 
Or in some lovely vale seclude, 
Apureciated solitude. 
But if it yearns for pomp and power. 
And above its fellow-kind to tower. 
Be sure, though happy it may seem. 
Within, like rucks within a stream, 
Tnerelies more than your breast may deem. 
More than itself deems entombed there. 
Till time's occasion lay it bare. 

I threw my priestly dress aside. 

And donned, with something of a pride. 

The soldier's— one of feathered mail. 

I placed the casque upon my head. 

And thereby deemed me dignified ; 

New air I then seemed to exale. 

For free from where I had restrained, 

That which was pain in the restraining, 

I felt like some poor slave unchained. 

With nought before but joy remaining. 

The very ground I trod seemed mine ; 

And as I looked there came again. 

The feeling I cannot define. 

It was not joy, nor was it pain ; 

It was like some exulting madness. 

More blissful than all earthly gladness. 

At least to me so it became! 

The herald of my coming fame. 

Ah ! then I nreamt not of this shame. 

i Against my country's foes I fought. 
' And slew whichever foe I sought. 



MONTEZUMA. 



25 



For I was strong and had been bred 
Whore Iztaeeihiiatli rears its head 
In rocky majesty ; the snow 
Of ages on its giant brow. 
And there its towering torts among, 
I became like their fastness strong. 
Tanght from my youth e'er to endure. 
All that a bosom may immure. 
My race was not of weakly hearts. 
But of the mighty House of Darts; 
And had gained glory and renown, 
Worthy all to wear the Aztec-crown 

This mountain was to me a hotoe. 
Around me walks, above a dome , 
And there with but myself to hear 
The accents that its caverns spake. 
With none ray desolate life to cheer, 
Or in that solitude to make 
Its awf ulness seem less a tomb ; 
To haunt the mind with turbid fear, 
I lived— if such a life be called living. 
]\Iy own existing hopes but giving 
Unto my breast the joy, the bliss, 
One can obtain from loveliness. 
1 lived from all the rest apart. 
Communion holding with those spirits 
Who sometimes whisper to a heart, 
Tliat a nature like to their's inherits. 
Spirits of the air. invisible. 
Yet nathless they spake too well. 
To one who listed what they said. 
As prophet- words from lips long dead. 

Sometimes the loveliest, fairest skin, 

Masks but a guilty heart within ; 

All stained with unrepeuted sin. 

I came to feel the passionate tire 

That Love inpres:nates in the brepst ; 

Like a flame all earthly essence higher. 

So is love supreme to all the rest, 

And if a cup of purest sweets. 

Sipped in life's beauteous retreats. 

Had one tear fall therein, the fall 

Of which should turn the taste to gall 

Of that which the full cup contained. 

So untasted it for aye remained ! 

Sweet ah ! and yet but one drop there. 

The taste of which we cannot bear! 

Tie taste of which is all despair ! 

So Love's pure bliss too soon for me 

Did change itself as bitterly. 

How many like I, eager lipped. 

Of such pure joy have never sloped 

Beyond one drop : and though they yearned 

To drink the rest, to gall 'twas turned. 

Love I would paint as double-faced. 
With fairest charms of beauty graced, 
And then when feasted once man's eyes 
Upon such view of Paradise, 
Show him one of swch hideous look, 
That he for very fright should faint . 
And nevermore enjoy or brook 
To gaze on one he deemed a saint. 



I say not all of Love is so. 

But such the one I came to know. 

For she I loved once— nay adored— 

Or worshi])ped with a love intense, 

(That purity should be abbhored. 

That puritj" should be ignored. 

And sin with beauty charm the sense) 

She— she— she who at day, at night. 

At morn— at eve— became the light 

By which I saw all beauteous things, 

(The thuught e'en now brain-madness bring) 

She was not pure nor even true, 

But false ancl frail though lovely too. 

A heart that had known all of crime, 

A heart so young could in such time. 

Thou whom I Delieve Supreme, 
Why was my youth no shorter dream ! 

What I have since become to men, 
Was formed within my nature then. 
My hopes and joys were blighted all. 
And fell upon me like a nail. 

1 cursed her. though my soul grew worse 
In the utterings of that fearful curse ! 

I cursed her that had ruined the bliss 
Of my hermit life ; and in franticness 
I clasped her with my ironed arms, 
'Till I saw death slowly stealing o'er 
Her feautures' gracefulness of cliarms. 
Then hurled her from the precinice 
Of a mountain's platte far below. 
Where the cataract did ever hiss. 
And boil as through the gorge it tore ; 
Frothins: up in roaring angriness. 
Such bridal bed she came to know; 
Who every thrill of joy she felt, 
Was steeped in lustiness of guilt. 

You may believe that any grief. 
However short, finds no relief. 
Sometimes 'tis weakened in its force, 
And soothed by a pure remorse ; 
But mine was not so quickly past, 
So fiercely came the. bitter shock. 
Although the lightning's scorching blast. 
Makes scarce impression on a rock. 
The mark is there and long 'twill last. 
And my heart too long bore the wound ; 
Perchance the scar remaineth still ; 
But not by sigh or moaning sound. 
For I, too', have an iron will. 
Have I revealed or will reveal. 
What hath been torture to conceal? 
The pain, though aged, is smarting yet. 
And chides me that I should forget 
How mai:^y days, how many years, 
I shed unseen, remorseful tears. 

You say although a crime be done, 

It ne'enheless can be shrieved. 

Alas ! thy Christian religion 

Is frailer than I first believed. 

What ! thou who dost like humans live 

Can have the power to forgive 



26 



MONTEZUMA. 



The.blackest sin? When He on high, 

Who beholds all with closeless eye, 

^And knows each thought within the mind ; 

Has listened with unheeding ears 

To idl the prayers that I conrined 

To him these many wretched years. 

He who is all supreme in heaven, 

Hath willed that I be unforgiven ; 

And now thou Avouldst with converse 

smooth. 
Eradicate the stain within. 
And tellest me in seeming truth. 
Thou can'st absolve such horrid sin. 
Xo, since 'tis His Almighty will. 
Let mine be unforgiven still ! 
And then, why grieve? she earned her fate. 
Who made my life so desolate. 

There is no passion that doth prove 

The bosom so, as faithless love. 

And mine succimibed and fell at length, 

And gave to hate its ardor's strengtn. 

Had she been true— but why return 

My thoughts to what could never be? 

She made my heart a sepulchre, 

And therein did I love inurn. 

And what of hope that then remained. 

Helped me to mount ambition's throne. 

Nor any deed was then disdained, 

These hands how much they have been 

stained. 
By blood which was not all mine own. 
The nopes that seared, the thoughts which 

pained, 
I could not utterly disown ; 
Unbanishable, they had grown 
Within my heart a poisonous flower. 
Yet fair to sight in fancy's bower. 

Step after step— from low to high- 
Had I upreared myself. Until 
Triumphant in my majestj% 
The nation bowed beneath my will— i 

They shall obey and listen still. 
Bring me my crown and sceptre here, ! 

And send my heralds through the land 
For thousand troops to muster near, I 

Awaiting but their king's command. 
What! will ye not my words obey? 
Are ye as traitorous as they 
Who laughed upon me when I went 
To calm my people turbulent? 
They scorned my words and mocked my ' 
power, 

woe to that untimely hour ! 

1 who among the Otomies, 

In Tloscala, Michoacan, j 

Spread dread among these enemies, 

A hero every soldier-man. 

Stricken by my own people low. 

By else 'twere not such bitter blow ; 

But such a scorn hath pierced me more 

Than darts which seek a bosom's core | 

Be Montezuma's name erased. 

Unworthy to be called a king, i 



From where all kingly names are placed. 
Or if written, say he was debased, 
And became but a cowardly thing, 
Unfit to rule, unfit to be 
The monarch of a monai'chy, 
Whose realms extended far and wide, 
In all their splendorncFs of pride. 
And tell them that the Aztec race 
Have gloried in their Icing's disgrace ; 
So shall men know my lowly fall. 
Who once hath proudly governed all 
These lovely realms, and deemed his reign 
Too lofty even for disdain. 

I Nay, father, turn away thy cross. 

To me it was an empire's loss ! 

That empire for which I have given 
I My hopes of lasting joy in heaven. 

Do ice-beads stand upon my browV 
[ 'Tis nought— 'tis nought— and over now. 

Only the thought of those dark days 
: Will sometimes like a cloud return. 

To dim bright hope's resplendent rays. 

For which a heart like mine should yearn. 

And what such recollection brings, 
I Recalls too many sufferings 

To cheer the heart in its despair. 

Or place a soothing feeling there. 

Nay, turn away that cross of thine, 
I Thy God can be no god of mine ! 
Let me at least approach my death, 
.Still true to my own country's faith. 
I am not deaf to what thou saith. 
But eloquence is nought to one 
Whose earthly life is nearly done. 
Could it but bid the spirit sta^-. 
Which now is ebbing fast away ; 
Or renew the faint expiring breath. 
The lack of which is endless death ; 
But no, not even our god 
Can overrule death's stern decree. 
The pyamid thy chieftain trod. 
Was upreared in its majesty. 
As reverence for this Holy One ; 
By whose great will all things are done. 
Yet prayei s to Him have oft been given. 
And altar's incense fumed to heaven. 
That by this we could life prolong ; 
But still to death our lives belong. 

Percnance the king whom you profess. 

May be our ruler— be it so. 

Yet you have brought but wretchedness 

Within the walls of Mexico. 

Where is the srlory which it wore 

Before thy dread arrival here? 

It throbs my bosom to the core. 

To think that I was cowed by fear ; 

And deemed thee the true one to rule. 

Who came with swords and hearts of 

stone : 
Hardened by all that may be cruel. 
And shamed me from my haughty throne. 
That I once dreamt was mine alone. 



JOHN AND NELLIE. 



Thy coming hath been marked by blood ; 
And ruin smokes, where proudly stood 
My palaces in gorgeous pride ; 
'I'hat with thy country's castles vied 
Is this the power you come to show ? 
What herald has it had in woe, 
Within the streets of Mexico ! 

You have not striven like I to eain. 
What seemed impossible to obtain. 
Aye. cherished still midst dreariest fears 
A hope— the joy of torturing years, 
A moment now such time appears. 
Yet all too late and bittei'ly 
Time's sternest lesson do I learn ; 
Thou hast conquei-ed me, and fallen low. 
Degraded in my ma.iestj\ 
The golden crown I madly spurn. 
With hate I cast it from my brow ! 
Malinche willst thou wear it now? 
See at thy feel the crov»i) I fling. 
The bauble of a bartered king ! 
Reign over ruin in AJexico! 
Reign over bosoms tilled with woe ! 
Reign over what was lovely once. 
Vet shows no sign of beauty now ! 
My weakness and my sinking sense, 
Will not allow of eloquence— 
Yet would I wish it grace thy b row 
As it has once thy brow adorned. 
Till thou betome with hatred scorned. 
As 1 have been ; and that from those. 
My people once, but now my foes. 

Lo ! I am dying, and the light 

Of reason grows within me dim. 

Though I ;im dying, such a night 

But ushers in a dawn with Him. 

If such a joy may be for one 

Who blackest aeeds of sin hath done; 

Who ruthlessly and madly spilt 

Pure blood, which steeped his soul in guilt. 

Yes they have said that I was cruel. 

And ruled with merciless law the land; 

They knew not 'twas but spirit fuel. 

Ignited by Ambition's brand. 

Which blazed and scorched a kingly breast, 

Who by its flames was much oppressed . 

For when such flames become once lighted 

All better feelings then are bliirhted. 

They vvill not give the bosom peace. 

Who from such pain would have surcease. 

Ana craves, although suppliantly. 

All vainly for forgiveness ; 

Since we the crimes committed, we 

Must bear their punishment no less. 



The thunder peals along the sky. 
And shakes even these palace-walls! 
Reverbertates along the halls ! 
'Tis fit that I, a king should die 
'Midst heaven's such sublimity. 
And fitter if I were but now 
On the summit, or the rocky brow 



Of towering Popecatapetl. 

such throne would become me well ! 
A monarch on a monaich's seat; 
With a humbled nation at my feet! 
And nought above me but the sky, 

To form for me an azure crown : 
And nought except a God on high. 
To cast me from my glory down ! 
The winds of space to hear my voice. 
And in my lofty pride rejoice. 

Alas ! how mockingly I rave. 

My throne too soon must be a grave; 

Equalled with many a lowly slave! 

Tis folly for a king to ttiink. 

As standing on life's sinking brink. 

That he all others is above. 

When if that he but dare to move. 

Then he is fallen from his pride. 

And engulfed in that mighty tide ! 

Yet am I not a ruler still? 

Ho ! warriors doth hear my call? 

'Tis Montezuma's royal will, 

That ye shall arm for battle all 1 

We go to war against a foe. 

And midst this battle's fiercest din. 

Think not of fi'iend or dearer kin. 

But let your eyes with fury glow ! 

And so alone shall coui'age win. 

The Mexitli, where are they now? 

The Panailton ?— sound battle-horn ! 

Once more your rulers brow adorn 

With the crown of glory— stay, O stay, 

1 feel my spirit ebb away. 

Your king, alas! what waste of breath, 
Since I am now a slave to death ; 
No king or ruler sways thee now. 
Nor any king hath Mexico ! 



JOHN AND NELLIE. 

A FLORIDA LEGEND. 

One rural town had reared them both 

In goodliness and truth ; 
Nor words of anger, spoke when wroth. 

Had come to mar their youth. 

And he grew up in manhood's pride. 

And she more gentle fair ; 
Until they, standing side by side. 

Became a wedded pair. 

The village pastor wedded them. 

Forever and for aye ; 
And friends from every%vhere around. 

Held merry feast that day. 

The roses were upon her cheeks. 
His bosom swelled with joy; 

And they became a happy" twain. 
No sorrows to annoy. 



28 



JOHN AND NELLIE. 



For is it not the sweetest bliss, 

Our life on earth can give ; 
For two young hearts who loved like this, 

United so to live ! 

Into the wooldand far beyond, 

He brought her to his home ; 
And they dwelt there both loving, fond. 

Unknowing griefs to come. 

By daily toil and watchful care, 

His little store increased ; 
For sturdy oxen, fowls he had. 

Sheep which are yearly fleeced. 

And well he knew to glean the field. 

For all its precions gift. 
While often blessing Nature's yield. 

With early morning shrift. 

His tidy cabin fairer grew, 

So neatly kept within ; 
This was her care, and well she knew 

That neatness is no sin. 

While flowers graced its humble front. 
And bloomed and blossomed there ; 

The honeysuckles, woodbine, too. 
Whose scent perfumed the air. 

And all within was brightness found. 

So cheerful as could be ; 
An air of peace pervaded round 

The chambers nice to see. 

Near by a river murmured fast, 

Anciila called by name; 
'Twas joy to watch it flowing past. 

While wondering whence it came. 

And think of wondrous caverns bright. 
Where chance it had its birth ; 

Hlumined by its crysollite, 
Like stars which beam on earth. 

And how it wended through the woods. 
Where Redmen dwelt of old ; 

Like swarms of bees, or birds in broods, 
As grizzled scouts have told. 

'Twas joy to list the quavering songs. 

When golden morn arrived ; 
As trilled forth by the feathered throngs. 

Who in their boweis thrived. 

And every morn while yet the dew 

Upon the flowers lay, 
W^ould Nellie wreathe a garland fair, 

In gladness of the day. 

Thus passed their days apart from all. 
Disturbed but seldom, nought ; 

Love only held their breast in thi-all. 
Possessing every thought. 



Until her face assumed a calm, 

Fortelling milder days ; 
A child was born to her— a psalm 

It seemed of heaven's praise. 

And day by day she watched it grow ; 

While he in parent's pride. 
Now kissed its lips and now its brow. 

Now bore it on the side. 

It is the sacred link of love. 

Which woman binds to man. 
And is the consummation of 

Our Maker's holy plan ! 

A year thus passed, no sorrows came 

To cloud their happy life ; 
A year of bliss to both the same. 

To husband and to wife. 

O would I could the story end. 

To leave them happy here ; 
But so it is, our joys pertend 

Too often sorrows drear ! 

The Redmen, peaceable till now. 

Uprise to war again ; 
The Scminoles had pledged their vow. 

But pledged it not in vain. 

Their chieftain and his daughter fair. 
Though murdered ask revenge; 

Omathla's son did madly swear. 
Their murder to avenge. 

Osceola had done the deed ; 

But he so crafty-flerce. 
Incensed them 'gainst the whiter seed. 

And did his own soul curse. 

The crimson band in gory pride. 

Start o\it upon the war; 
And outrages most horrible. 

Committed near and far. 

Not aged men nor youths to them. 

Were fitting ones to spare ; 
They set in flames the homesteads 'round. 

And butchered by their glare. 

And. many a maiden's locks they took. 

Done many a fiendish deed ; 
And many a mother's dying look 

Saw her young children bleed. 

And many a father fell to earth. 

And many a manly youth ; 
And then as part of such a mirth. 

They burnt them all for ruth. 

Yet John, unconscious of these crimes. 

One evening did depart; 
About the time when curfew-chimes, 

Ring gladness to the heart. 



JOHN AND NELLIE. 



29 



He bade liis wife a sweet farewell. 

Nor knew it was his last ; 
And then beyond the scented dell, 

Forevermore he passed. 

She lingered in the garden way. 

To watch him disappear ; 
While warm upon her lips there lay, 

Hia passion kisses dear. 

She lingered at the cottage door. 

To watch his fading form ; 
"For he must reach the village store, 

Ere burst the pending storm," 

And then unto the humble cot. 

Where her young baby lay, 
Shp slow returned ; nor mourned her lot. 

While moments sped away. 

The moments sped to hours then. 

Yet JoJin had not returned ; 
Was he detained by friendly men ? 

No such a thought she spurned. 

For well she knew with joyful pride. 

That he did love her more 
Than all the world and friends beside. 

Whom he tiad known of yore. 

And oft she peered unto the woods. 

Witn tear sutf using eyes ; 
Or quickly paced the oaken floor. 

Nor could suppress her sighs. 

And often she embraced her child. 
And clasped him lo her heart ; 

While uttering in accent's wild ; 
"O why, why did we pait !"' 

Alas ! she little knew the rest. 

Nor could the rest foretell ; 
And yet for her foreboding breast. 

It was perchance as well. 

Alas ! she little knew that he. 
While cantering on his steed. 

Was stopued by him full suddenly; 
Soon told the cause indeed. 



And left to float upon its tide ; 

As if his senseless clay 
Was never formed for ought beside. 

Than thus lo float away. 

No, no. she little thought of this. 

While waiting patiently ; 
Yet though she oft her child did kiss, 

She did not so with glee. 

Now night in all her blackest hues, 

Had shadowed the skies; 
And not a star was shining there. 

Nor did the moon arise. 

And sobs and shrieks awoke the air, 

And ail the forest groaned ; 
The faithful iiound, as guardian there. 

Restless became, ajid moaned. 

Chilled by an undescriptive fear. 

Poor Nellie did not move ; 
Until her coui'age rose again. 

On thinking of her love. 

She laiH the baby in its bed. 

When that she saw it slept ; 
And bending o'er its golden head. 

Fast on its face she wept. 

When sudden came a cry which froze 

The blood within her veins ; 
And held her spell-bound, trembling, 

As if in iron chains. 

FuH well the cry she understood, 

\\'hich fell upon her ear ; 
And well she knew its meaning, too— 

The savage foes were near. 

"O where is John, my husband, where?' 

She loudly wailed in woe ! 
"O God. I pray thee, deign to spare 

Him from the bloody foe ! " 

The dew was on her ashen cheeks. 
And grasping her young child. 

A passage neath the floor she seeks. 
Which opened on the wild. 



From a thick bush of undergrowth, 

A hail of bullets pour; 
His steed is stricken, fall the both, 

And fall to rise no more. 

For ere John can regain his feet. 

The Redmen him surround ; 
And many a weapon drank his blood. 

Which darkly stained the ground. 

His body in their arms they lift, 

Then to and fro it swung. 
Then in the river flowing swift. 

While warm as yet, 'twas flung. 



She gained the woods in safety. 
One backward look she cast. 

And saw her home in lurid flames— 
The peace that could not last. 

Then on, and on, she sped again, 

But thev were on her trail ; 
Though fast she flew, they nearer drew. 

The Redmen in the vale. 

And they alone and wilder winds, 

Heard' her despairing cry. 
And they alone, and One above. 

Saw th e pursued die ! 



30 



THE BROKEN TROTH. 



Rough hunters found them in the morn. 

The mother and the child ; 
The hair had from their heads been torn, 

Their bodies were defiled. 

And he, the babe, within her arms, 
Though scarcely knowing earth. 

Had turned his eyes, now glazed and cold. 
To her who gave him birth. 

As if he at that moment knew. 
The death which menaced near ; 

And had looked up to her with eyes. 
Which told her not to fear. 

Her lips her habs^'s lips had blessed ; 

As if the spirit gone. 
Had on their lips its seal impressed, 

Then heavenward upflown. 

Nor could they disengage the clasp, 

She held upon her child ; 
As if that last embrace had been 

A joy which death beguiled. 

They formed a rude but decent grave; 

John's body too they found. 
Impeded on its river-course 

By reeds which skirt it round. 

One tomb was found for all the three ; 

And then a prayer of love. 
By those wh'^ seldom knew to pray, 

Was wafted high above. 

But on the ground remained the stain. 

Of that dark bloody night ; 
And Spring with all her bainiy rain. 

Could wash it not from sight. 

And stranger still thereon upgrew. 
In vigorous growth and strong, 

A rose bush ; which began to shew 
Its buds, a numerous throng. 

These blossoms bloomed to flowers fair. 
Though different from their kind ; 

The leaves that dress the plant ai'ound, 
No other where we find. 

The rose's petals inward curve 
With a bi'ight and crimson hue ; 

Like the blood which flows through pallid 
veins. 
When 'neath the skin they show. 

And the odor of each wondrous flower. 

Is sickening to the smell ; 
Though pungent, holding one in power. 

As if its tale to tell. 

And its dew is of a pinky cast, 

On no other flowers seen ; 
As if tears which Nellie wept and fast. 

When she thought of w^hat had been. 



And this clant no other place will grow. 

But where this couple fell ; 
While winds more tenderly do blow. 

When passing through the dell. 

It may be that some soul of grief. 
This woeful tale did weave ; 

And yet we weep in its belief, 
We cannot help but grieve. 

It may be that this plant had grown. 

Without this gx'ievous deed; 
And yet it budded forth alone. 

When soi-row gave it seed. 



THE BROKEN TROTH. 

He was not old. but still an age 
Of sorrow plainly marked his face. 

Which sadly told that sorrow's rage 
Makes lines which lime cannot erase. 

No joy could those grief-looks replace, 
Tne snow-white hair, the furrowed brow. 

The sunken eyes, where one could trace 
The lasting fire, the wondrous glow, 
Which only dims with death below. 

The silvery beard upon his breast ; 

The pallid hands which gently lay 
Together crossed, as if at i est; 

They clutched a staff, which on the way 
Of life had been of friends the best. 

His stooping form, his garments torn. 
In fewer words the tale expressed. 

His face was cheerless and forlorn. 

By time, perhaps, or woe or scorn. 

He must have been once tall and strong. 
But now the weight bore down his steps. 

And tottering as he went along. 

With thin, and pale, and parched lips. 

He made his way amidst the throng. 
His eyes were full of yearning pain. 

Yet muttered he some childhood song. 
Which made men turn to view again 
This remnant of a life's disdain. 

I, too, had turned to see him pass. 
While wondering what eld he was, 

I saw him feebly through the grass 
His way continue, from the buz 

Of village clamor. But, alas ! 
Time's hardiness is hard to bear. 

Then through the churcnyard went he as 
The evening shadows settled there. 
The cool and fragrant evening air. 

He sat upon the burial stone. 

He looked around the nallowed place, 
I heard him make a sorrow-groan. 

While tears were coursing down his face. 



THE BROKEN TROTH. 



31 



I 



lie looked around, he was alone, 
Though here and there a tomb did dot 

The sacred sward. While oft was shown 
Some lonely mound, or nameless spot, 
For some who were remembered not. 



I then beheld him gently kneel 
Nearby a sweet, secluded grave. 

I saw the moonbeams softly steal 
Across his face, as if to save 

The feeble light which fluttered there- 
The light cf life our Maker gave. 

They gently kissed his snowy hair. 
As if one moment still to crave 
Of life, but not of woeful care. 



The glowing sun had disappeared 
Beneath the lofty western hills. 

The nightingale anon endeared 
The evening with its tender trills. 

The bell-flowers and the dafl'odils 
Were drooping on their slender stalk. 

As on I went ; until I neared 
The place where I had seen him walk, 
Oft babbling as a child doth talk. 

For moments then I could not speak. 
While sadness awed mv beating breast. 

I looked upon his pallid cheek, 
As there he knelt in seeming rest. 

I moved not, for I deemed it best 
To let him weep his grief away. 

Till golden tints upon the crest 
Of yonder hill did brightly lay. 
To herald the new dawning day. 

Throughout the night, beneath the shroud 

Of a tall tree had I remained. 
And on that form, whose head was bowed, 

My weeping eyes were often strained; 
Then something like a somber cloud 

Did fold itself around my heart. 
I felt the gloom, and though 1 feigned 

A .loyful show, it would not part. 

But made my very spirit start. 

The morning beams upon his hair 
Shone lovingly. And after them 

I saw the dew bright-shining there. 
Like pearls upon a diadem. 

Each drop did seem a peerless gem, 
A.nd every plant and every flowex". 

Did shade him with their leafy hem. 
As if to soothe with fragrant power 
This mourner of a joyous hour. 



Could I disturb a sleeper's rest? 

For so he seemed. How could I know . 
That life had left his aged breast? 

That death had chilled his furrowed 
brow ? 



So sweet the end of all his woe. 
That dazzled by the peaceful sight 

I oft had watched the amber glow 
Of Venus kiss his face at night 
And crown him with her tender light. 

But when, alas ! the mornirg came. 
The truth could not be chid away, 

I wept above his silent frame. 
Above his still and silent clay. 

The eyes no more were Reason's stay; 
I Aiewed again his shiny hair. 

His fleshless arms, his hands which lay 
Upon the simple gravestone thei-e. 
As if to soothe his spirit's care. 

And one did clasp in its embrace 
A bunch of leaves, but withered long ; 

And they were pressed beneath his face. 
I wondered at the lowly song 

He muttered as he reached the phice. 
And was it not the "Auld Lang Syne?" 

I slowly hummed it to retrace 
His melody with that of mine. 
The tunes were one, and did combine. 

There was a crumbling slab upon 

The grave where he had fallen low. 
I scanned the faded name thereon. 

And wept alas! in doing so. 
For they were sorrow-words indeed; 

" Forsaken by her love, below 
There rests the frame of Mamy Leed !" 

Nought else, yet more than much to show 

The tale so piteous to know. 

What could have forced these two to part ? 

We do not know the grief, the tears. 
That pined away her maiden heart 

In the few separated years. 
It must have been a crueller dart 

Than love doth give, ihan love yet gave. 
And he had roamed the worldly mart. 

Returning still a passion-slave. 

To die upon her virgin grave. 

I called the sexton old, with spade 
We formed a simple grave. And when 

Beside her own the tomb was made. 
The pastor spake a low! "'Amen !" 

Then silently I left the glade. 
I could not speak, for I posessed 

Too much of arrief within me then. 
Ah who can lay a form at rest. 
And ope his lips for .loy or jest? 

One stone now marks the tomb of both. 

At morn, at eve ; at eve at morn. 
It consecrates their broken troth. 

A willow droopeth there forlorn. 
And casts its shade on both below. 

While honeysuckles do adorn 
The simple mounds. And roses show 

There blushing leaves where lilies grow. 

And bud, and bloom, and purely blow. 



32 A LIFE. 

A LIFE. 

Sir, you find nie in my cabin, slowly dyin^, nearly dead ; 

Pray then list to such a story as my lifetime knew instead. 

I am not what I appear, a Nimrod both in garb and cast, 

God knows time has changed me sorely from what I was in the past. 

But first bear me to the valley, let me breathe the mountain air. 
Bear me to yon mossy boulder for my altar-shrine is there. 
Lay me gently 'neath its shadow, gently on the dewy sod, 
Tis in Nature's grand cathedral I would give my soul to God. 

I was born of worthy p irents, worthy parents true, but poor. 
Yet they gave me all the knowledge that their village could procure. 
And besides my love of study made me prize what I did learn— 
From the scrolls of mystic science, to the poet-leaves eterne. 

From the gloom of other ages with the greatness of their deeds ; 
With their bloody superstitions to their idols and their creeds. 
Did I bring the past before me, with the present to compaie. 
Till I found that Truth and Beauty were ideal even there 

Near the village that I dwelt in, flows a river grand and wide ; 
There my youth was passed unconscious as this river's mighty tide. 
Had I only thus forever lived and never suffered more. 
Lived to age forgetting childhood, I had prospered in my lore. 

In that village was a maiden beautiful— alas ! too much ; 

She was like a holy im-^ge— but to worship, not to touch. 

And I loved her, nay adored her, for her loveliness divine. 

When I deemed that she returned it— when I deemed that she was mine. 

With her couitenance creolean and orbs and locks of jet; 
With her cheeks of velvet softness, with her head so proudly set; 
With her graceful, lithsome figure, with her smiles of witchery; 
She was fairer than the sunlight when it dawneth on the sea. 

Have you ever known the gladness that will spring within the heart, 
• When a seeming angel-being becomes of itself a part? 
Have you ever known the blissfulness of such an existence? 
If not your love was not a flame which brightened soul and sense. 

Joyous smiles and happy glances— these should make our spirits glad; 
And yet sometimes they torture us and drive us nearly mad. 
When seen upon the ra tiant f^ce of one whom we adore; 
But beaming on another, O what could be torture more ! 

Yes youth is youth, and love is love, and youth on love can live ! 
But youth can never suffer all the pangs which love may give. 
For love is pain, its joy is pain, however we are blessed. 
Yet he who loved or loves in vain had better be at rest. 

Our youth had been together passed, a fatal circumstance ; 
For then I came to worship her whom fancy did enhance. 
When she had bloomed to w^omanhood and I to manhood grown, 
I pleaded to her heart for all the passion of my own. 

Those were winged days and moments, when upon the stream afloat 
We would charm ourselves for pleasure in a little dancing boat ! 
Winding up the Mississippi, passing every creek and bay. 
Till the sun was cool and setting in the dyi)ig day. 

But there was one who wished her too and wooed her like myself. 
And coiild she spurn a noble heart for his degraded pelf ? 
The purer gem was thrown aside, the baser one was worn; 
Men say it is the different stars beneath which we are born. 



A LIFE. Sd 

1 offered lov^e; 'twas all I had. He ottered wealth and lauds; 
And pointed, proudly smiling, to where yet his villa stands. 
A noble scion of the South, 'twas all he had to boast, 
Except tne lies he told which charmed her ear the most. 

know you what is to have the blood boil through the veins, 

Like streams which have been swollen up by storm and summer raiaa 
Such was tne mad result of all which I experienced then, 
That changed me from a joyous youth to one most stern of men. 

1 still lingered in the village though unknowing why I staid ; 
Perchance to see them wedded or to see her still a maid. 

The day drew nearer, nearer, when the two would become one 
And each day a darker shadow seemed to circle round the sun. 

Gladly pealed the bells above me, and each merry wedding-tone 
Woke within me newer passions till that moment still unknown, 
I heard not the pastor's query, neither heard what they replied. 
But that thought was like a madness, " She is now another's bride !" 

the stifling temptations that within me then were rife! 
Shamed I then to mock at custom, when my purpose was a life? 
For the simple wheel of Fortune turning round had. made me worst, 
Till I clenched my hands and smote them vowing not to be accursed. 

Down beneath the chapel- window did I lowly kneel and weep. 
Since her- tinsel heart forever had been given him to keep. 
Was I weak because of sorrow ? Who is strong in times of grief ? 
Listen not to him who says so : Truth is truer than belief. 

Where Xature can exalt the thought and soar the feelings high. 

1 vowed that I would wamler hence in stranger climes to die. 
Bat kin to kin. as soul to soul, I loved my country more 
Than all the shores of other seas renowned in classic-lore. 

What would have been the pilgrimage to other lands and climes ; 
To wander though the ruins of dead days and withered times? 
The fields of old, the marble wrecks, the skeletons of fame ; 
'Tis better that an ocean is between them and tlieir name. 

For though we circumvolve the truth of every epoch past; 
Through all the mists of science and of ignorance at last, 
'Tis not the faith of men which led us forward to perceive 
The purpose of those centuries from whom we were to weave. 

From my village T departed, coming to this glorious land. 
Midst the glacier-peaked Siei-ras. where subhmely still they stand. 
I have seen these hoary bases swarming full of life and toil. 
By men maddened with the fever for the metal in its soil. 

I have seen two comrades sundered in their envy for a prize 
Which the ground beneath them, delving, had upstarted to their eyes; 
I have seen thus fiercer hatred born within their parted breast. 
Than two enemies for years have in bitterness expressed. 

Do you wonder then dejected I secluded passed my days. 

From the world and all its living, from the living and their ways? 

I despise no man who struggles for the sustenance he earns. 

But I hate and loathe a being who for gold true friendship spurns. 

Can we 'olame that noble Spartan, who restricted from men's hands 
That which is the curse of mankind, both 'midst Art and desert sands? 
Though the glorious stir of Commerce bring the sweat to toiling hips, 
So that men may send their labor far in wealth of Argos ships? 



34 A L I F E . 

Like the standard rearing proudly the fair banner it unfurled, 
'Till its wings of silken texture should spread over half the world; 
So a common bond and nobler now unites devising men — 
'Tis the spreading far of Knowledge 'till its glorj' dawn again. 

Let me weep for my dear mother, who reposes in her grave; 
In the village church-yard buried where the weeping willows wave. 
For my father, who was guardian of my childhood and my youth. 
Leading me to paths of Virtue through the flowery ways of Truth. 

Tears are mockings in our manhood— they are playthings for a ch.ld; 

And are ill-befitting one w^ho may seem both rude and wild. 

Far more useful to a person living but to play a part. 

But 1 call these simple tear-drops balsam for a pining heart. 

» 
Midst the stillness of these mountains did I live then undisturbed; 
'Twas their solitude and grandeur my young spirit's passions curbed. 
I have grown to love these valleys, and the echoes often bear 
Far my voice in joyous bailings "when the sunlight dawns in air. 

Every craggy seat of verdure is to me a resting-place; 
In the darkest, deepest caverns have my footsteps left a trace. 
Fearing neither beast nor savage, so those hermit days were passed, 
Till there came a rude awakening, a stir of life at last. 

For the thunder-notes of Freedom woke the land from shore to shore. 
Till the mountain-cave and valleys echoed grandly, "On to war!" 
Then was heard the armies marching, then was heard thetramp and tread 
Of the heroes who are living, of tiie hei-oes who are dead. 

Then men wakened to the gloi*y which is part of human will. 

Then her clai'ion tones aroused them when their hearts seemed cold 

and chill; 
Till a herculean fervor gained possession of each soixl, 
Which no dread of death could ever keep in bondage and control. 

Alas ! it was the bloody strife betwixt the North and South, 

The mighty call of Liberty came from the cannon's mouih. 

The blood which flowed within my veins grew maddened then indeed, 

I vowed that I would help the North till Slavery were freed. 

Slaves to Custom! Slaves to Freedom ! Slaves to Masters, if to men ! 
God Almighty bless the negroes for their cruel bondage then ! 
Let the past be past, forgotten; both the fault and the disgrace. 
In Thj^ eyes this race was holy as a whiter one in face. 

War, and woe, and desolation; these are but a paltry cause 
'Gainst the glorious truth of Freedom, 'gainst the truth of Freedom's laws. 
Did our banners wave untainted ? No. there was tliereon a stain; 
And no bosom filled with ardor could allow it to remain. 

Side by side with my commander, side by side with him whose name 
Garland-wreathed is by glory in the temple of ail fame. 
Fronting thunderbolts and lightning of both cannon-shot ami shell, 
Forward did I ride unscathed midst the multitude that fell. 

Fiery bullets, fiery bosoms to receive them; cannon-tolls 

Pealed each minute woeful death-knells for those brave and battling 

souls ! 
Fiery eyes and sabers gleaming, fiery hearts and burning hands 
Giving thrusts and thrusts of hatred at their chieftain's stern demands. 



A LIFE. :35 

Face lo face with him who wronged me ! Face to face amidst the strife ! 
When each breath of wind that passes wings away a being's life. 
Face to face with him who won her ! Was it then a fearful fate 
That should bring him thus before me when my brain was sick from 
hate? 

Life for life, it hath been written. Life for love I thought as just. 
Conscience, madness, whispered loudly, "'That 1 must not; that I must I" 
I had raised the swoi'd of vengeance as he lay beneath my horse, 
When her features passed before me paler than the palest corse. 

"Go, for her who waits thy coming. Though my life be desolate, 
'Tis enough that one should suflFer; 'tis enough that one should hate. 
Shall I make her life as barren— she of lord as I of bride ?" 
And the soul that was within me whispered " No." for very pride. 

Through those days of liberation all deliriously I fought. 
In the battles wildly, madly, for my life became as nought. 
Ever by that brave'commander who at Gettysburg became 
One of the immortal heroes whom America can claim. 

And the blood which trickled slowly from his being to the ground. 
Consecrates that field of freedom and its neighborhood around. 
Sanctified beneath the life-flow of that noble General. 
It shall gain a lasting glory— be as great a field as all.. 

They are sleeping who were bravest of the South and of the North, 
Both Ihe conquered and unconquered who in battle-ranks went forth. 
In one mother-earth sepulchred, let their graves be glorified ; 
Wreaths and garlands for the .Vorthern, for the Southern, side by side. 

For a noble tie still binds us, making humans human's kin; 
Though this tie be often sundered when amidst the battle's din. 
And beneath the purple mantle round the giant shape of Mars. 
Love's pure spirit shines as clearly as the splendor of Ihe stars. 

Can it yet be far beyond us when fair Freedom's golden barge 
Shall find every clime its haven to the ocean's extreme marge? 
Shall its glory not be spreading like the rip pie on the stream. 
Like the rainbow-arch of heaven— like the sun-descended beam. 

Now Columbia shrines this Goddess as the Grecians did of old: 
Saying to the world: "How beautiful she is you tnay behold! ' 
Yet great arms of greater purpose than have linked two heraisphere;^, 
Shall uprise to bind in Freedom all the race of future years. 

If the highest glory only can be reached beyond the tomb. 
As the flaming sun of morning dawneth upward from the gloom. 
So the end shall be attained, though all the tyranny of man 
Help to mar or to de^Jtroy this universal freedom plan. 

Yes. he died a soldier's ending, while I live a hermit's life. 
What became of her. I know not whether widow now or wife; 
For it may be she abhorred him. or yet loved him ever such 
That she could not bear another, or another husband's touch. 

Did she really love him. I have wondered oft and oft? 
As she seems to stand before me with her eyes mild beaming soft. 
Really love him with the fervor of a woman's passion-heart I 
Really love him till existence was of love a second part ? 

O did she ever reallv love him? Yea, love him much more than I ( 
She smiled on one or both of us when one or both were nigh. 
When I approached a tender blush suffused her lovely face, 
\^ hen he approached no blush upon her features could I trace. 



36 A LIFE. 

1 cannot blame her youthful heart, her weak and foolish sense. 
If it was dazzled by the glow of Riches' eloquence; 
How many souls more aged and more scrupulous or wise. 
Have been deceived like her by Wealth and all its gaudy lies. 

Yet let her tread her lonely path if that of Widowhood, 

And pray to the Almighty One in his infinite good. 

For penitence in life is not by abstinence and fast. 

But in the purer, brighter hopes which dawn again the last. 

The rose that buds, the rose that blooms, the rose that fades away. 
Hath flourished its allotted time, nath had its due decay. 
The tears it shed in bloom, in youth, the tears it shed in age. 
Have been the balm for sorrows which nought else could assuage. 

And Conscience is the angel in whose presence we grow faint, 
Since it scans our inmost being ana discovers every taint; 
Then records them in the pages of the golden Book of Time, 
Good, and nobleness of nature written not with those of crime. 

Scorn the one who has uplifted all his passions from the low. 
Yet shall not a greater glory cheer him wath a brighter glow? 
For be sure however lowly he had been in other days. 
Present good is present virtue and is worthy still of praise. 

Worldly men and wordly creatures striv e ye then to trample less 
On the souls of those who struggle with a true heroic stress 
To arise from out the darkness ; where they long had exercised 
Passion both and revelation for a beauty realized ! 

For you know not that the beacon which did guide them on the way, 
Shone for them alone when darkness gained possession of the day, 
Then they saw the stormy waters, then they heard the breakers roar. 
And departed saved and thankful from the overwhelming shore. 

Earth we liken to a heaven if we love, but if we hate 

There is no drearier spot exists, no world so desolate. 

No flowers there we find will bloom, the weeds themselves have thorns. 

No gladness comes to beautify our bosom's gloomy morns. 

And T have been a martyr for the love of womankind ; 
Unhappy for her fickleness and frailty of mind. 
These have I been, A nobler truth hath shown me what to be. 
A nobler life hath been the fruit of all those griefs to me. 

Glorious mornings, glorious evenings, glorious days and glorious nights. 
These have been my spirit's guardians, these have been its pure delights. 
Flowery fields and mountain ledges, from whose steep I could behold 
Miles and miles of blooming verdure, tinted all with hue of gold. 

From crag to crag, from peak to peak, the steps wherewith my eyes 
Have borne my soul aloft to reach the boundless azure skies. 
By stars and moons I've numbered nights, by suns I've numbered days. 
While fancy linked itself with thought in many mystic ways. 

Let men scoff at hero-worship, I will worship every one. 
Since 'tis nobler than the worship of the Persians for the sun. 
'Midst these mountains have I pondered over all the deeds of men, 
And I find some grander hero whom all worshipped now and then. 

And the ones who died for Freedom, should they not be worshipped 

most ? 
From the true heroic Grecians battling 'gainst the Persian host. 
To the noble ones Columbia roused to fury and to worth. 
When our starry- waving banner was unfurled above this earth. 



A L 1 F E . 36 

Do we live tor death or trlory ; do we live alone for death? 
Let me hear the mountains answer, they re-echo but my breath. 
Let us live then grandly, nobly; let us live then as we must, 
Making life a golden passage 'midst the by-ways of the just. 

From his childhood to his manhood, from his manhood to his age, 
Man is ever deemed declining upon earth's revolving page ; 
If his cnildhood hath been brightness let bis manhood be the same; 
Honor, Truth, and Art, and Beauty are the guardians we can claim. 

Have we risen from the baseness which some sages attribute? 
Was our reason then or faculty developed from the brute? 
Taking centuries for blossom, taking centuries for growth. 
Till commingling, form of man and form of woman came from both. 

God! to do away with Godship ; As if Chaos could create, 
Shape or mould itself forever to the present glorious state." 
Separate the riner instincts of the animal and man. 
As if there were no Superior who conceived the mighty plan. 

Treat them as a brute who think that we have ri?en from the same. 
Though their study and their science so assimulate our frame. 
Let them crawl in degradation in the mire from which we rose. 
It we are as they create us— if we were as they suppose. 

What do men glean from their knowledge of the Universe above, 
Jiut spiritual conceptions of a higher law of love? 
Every flower, too, instructs us; every blossom, every fruit, 
Showing us how infinite this power is, and absolute. 

And since such a law can guide us, kindling with enraptured force 
Every mortal and immortal thing upon its living course ; 
Why should this then be conducive to what many promulgate. 
That our spirit is subservient to a dim predestined fate. 

Steep and steep, then hill and valley, though we clamber or descend. 
Finding that however dreary is the way there is an end- 
End to our existence only, not to spirit or to truth. 
Think of this who art existing, thou of thought and thou of youth ! 

Shadows that approached at evening with thy coverlet of dew. 
Shrouding all the sky in darkness till the stars in heaven shew ; 
Shadows of the night of sorrow, from my bosom ye are gone, 
And art followed by a brightness, by a clear and. starry dawn. 

Standing on yon peak-crag mossy with this valley at my feet, 
I have seen tlie night in heaven and the golden morning meet ; 
She within his warm emb'-ace blushing then a rosy red, 
While like censers, stars of lustre, lit them to their bridal bed. 

All religions, forms of worship, and confessors I despise ; 
Do I nut dwell here with Nature 'neath the glory of His skies ! 
Like the pillar in the desert, like the fountain from the rock. 
He hath been to me forever what no holiness could mock I 

I have often deemed these mountains were huge Titan-kings of old. 
Turned to stone for their ambition, thus transformed to earthly mould. 
With their peak-spears still in heaven, as they once had pierced them 

high. 
Dumb for epochs of destruction, fearing neither earth nor sky. 

I have scanned their hoary summits graven by the hand of Time, 
Wondered to myself, and wondered at their grandeur so sublime. 
Climb to dizzy heights upon them to behold the ocean far. 
From the morning to the evening, from the morn's to evening's star. 



38 



THE SPIRIT OF POESY. 



The hoarse lu uttering deeps of ocean well mia:ht chill the soul with fear. 

But too distant was the ocean to arouse nij^ listening' ear. 

Though the ancient poets fabled Neptune as a mighty god. 

Who with trident oft hath shaken like an earthquake's rage the sod. 

See the glorious sun is sinking like a warrior sinketh low, 

With liis burnished shield before him, and the casque upon his brow. 

Dying red the earth around him as he crimsons yonder skies, 

And I see the Him of darkness and death come over my eyes. 

But another one departed, it may chance by thee be said. 

But another soldier mingled with the army of the dead; 

But another from the millions who now live and who must die. 

Fairer realms I seem to see now— realms of bliss beyond the sky ! 



THE SPIRIT OF POESY. 

Things that are and things that seem, 

May be seen in any dream. 

Therefore 'twas in such a trance, 

I beheld the countenance 

Of a beauteous being, sitting 

By a forest-brooklet's side 

Butterflies were round her flitting. 

Flowers many, opal-dyed. 

Snowy- vested, azure-crowned ; 

From the daisies of the dells. 

To the honeysuckle-bells. 

Bloomed upon that lawny ground ; 

And around her pinky feet. 

Shedding fragrance ever sweet. 

Proserpina nev^er wreathed, 

Garlands that such fragrance breathed ! 

Or Onhelia, when she mourned 

In her mood of madness scorned, 

Her own virgin locks adorned 

With such buds and blossoms, as 

This fair spirit on the grass 

Robed her radiant self withal 

Twisted threads were round her fingers 

Of her goiden glossy hair ; 

As she listened to the sirigers 

Chanting in the balmy air. 

As she listened to the fall 

Of the brook which passed beside her. 

Or the e(;hoes which replied her. 

Then a lyre she had knew tuning. 

Till from music air went-svvooning! 

Rapt I stood, with soul enchanted ; 
Never venturous ones have planted 
Yet, a pennon gaily-streaming 
On some new-discovered shoi'e 
With more .joy, then I in dreaming, 
Listened to her angel-lore. 
First the cadences came slowly. 
Like an organ's anthem holy ; 
Then more passionate and quicker. 
Like brook-ripplings which bicker, 



Murmuring onw^ard neath the blending 
Of lush daffodils, descending 
Past anemones and paler 
Narcissi, that love-exaler. 

Wealth was not in Argos ships. 

Like the wealth upon her lips. 

Nor silks spurn so gulden-rare. 

As her gloi'ious sti'eaming hair. 

Nor the snow of icy lands. 

Whiter than her snowy hands. 

Nor pearl-tints on glacier-peaks. 

Like the bloom upon her cheeks. 
j Never Venus could be fairer 
I When of old the waves did bear her 
] Forward on her chariot-shell. 

Formed where luring m> rmaids dwell 

In god-Neptunes coral-halls ! 

Hung on high with pearl-petals. 
j And with amethyst and .jasper. 
I Never spirits crewpt by fancy, 
I Or by arts of necromancy, 
j Could be fairer. Nor Cybele. 

Nor shy Syrinx, who Pan nearly 
i Caught amidst the groves Arcadian. 

But at his attempts to grasp her, 

She was chaTiged into a reed. 

By the gods who heai'd the maiden 

Pray for such a boom indeed. 

Never fairer was the joy 

Of the Venus favored boy, 

Helen, she the woe of Troy, 

Never fairer was the treasure 

Of the king whose jealous-measure 

Ended in his loss of life ! 

Losing monarchy and wife. 

Who then favored Gyges blessed. 

He the fortunate who posessed 

(Plato says) a mystic ring. 

Making him invisible 

By the power it could bring. 

Maybe from some wizard-cell. 

Where grim skeletons rnid scrolls. 

Giant snakes in giant- bo wis ; 



CAIN. 



39 



Hideous beasts of every sort : 
Owls and bats in seeniini? sport ; 
Alcheniystic horrors far. 
Fearfully beholden are. 

Even when the spirit slumbers, 

Music fills the soul completely. 

80 I seemed to hear tin- numbers 

Of her melody, when sweetly 

Did her rapsodies awake me. 

And on golden wings uptake me. 

Though -Arion from the waters 

Charmed the dolphin, ocean's daughters; 

And Orpheus tones delighted 

Pluto in his gloomy-keep, 

Till his troth so gladly plighted 

Forced him evermore to weep; 

Though Apoilo in the grot 

Of Thessaly cliarmed the spot 

With his flute-entrancing strain. 

And though Pan on Nature's plain, 

Witn his dulcet pii)ing-reeds. 

Warbled tales of shepherd-deeds; 

Or the listening orange- boughs 

Hear the oft-repeated vows 

Of the nighingales together ; 

Yet no richer melody 

Ever lilled the bloomy ether. 

Or the coral-home of mermaids: 

Or the grotto-haunt of fairies; 

As this spirit's symphony ! 

Through tiie balminess of myrrh-glades, 

Throuirh the forest-sanctuaries. 

Thrilled those rapture-soundin-r notes; 

Bubbling up through airy ihroats. 

Throbbing from the golden strings 

Of her increscental lyre; 

And I saw resplendent wings. 

Gleaming like a silver fire. 

Linger round each choral tone. 

^Vhere she sate herself alone. 

Near this ripi)ling cascade-river. 

Which became a.ioyous giver 

Of pure pearly-drops to flowers. 

Blooming midst the myrtle-bowers. 

Crowning tliis fair one with gems 

Of eternal diadems! 

Thus I saw this radiant being 

Who IS for immortal seeing. 

Not a sister of the Muses. 

But a higher still who uses 

All her essence-self, to be 

The pure Spirit of Poesy ! 



CAIN. 

I that am wanting want a want to live 
O God forgive me for my blasphemy! 
Since th(m didst curse me for that very sin. 
Since thou didst smite meforthat very sin. 
Yea, wing thy angel hither, so to brand 
Upon my forehead thy eternal curse. 



.Shall curses be eternal ? Shall there not 
Be abjugatior; even for such a sin? 
And shall all mankind suffer lormy sin. 
As generations that are yet lobe ; 
JShall suffer for the sin of mother Eve 
And father Adam ? O Almighty God, 
i In my conceptions of iJivinity ; 
I In my night-slumbers cf thy "Holiness, 
; 1 have conceived thee an Oninipotence 
; Whose gi-eate^t glory is in gr« atest good. 
And whose benevolence should be a balm 
To fit 11 upon man's heart, as faljs the dew 
Upon the flowers in the time of glociu. 
; Why was I then cieated. if to be 
Purveyor of no happiness from life? 
I do not curse thee for thy curse eternal, 
I do not wo der at thy Ai'ighty will ; 
Believing most pnfoundly it is just 
But I, becHUse I found the fruits of earth, 
I Svveet-smellmg and sweet-tasting fruits of 
I earth, 

] Whose odorus essence perfumed a 11 the air, 
I Most potently instilling me with .loj-; 
The purest gifts to offer to thee, God, 
j Seeing no sacrilege in such desire ; 
i Seeing no blasphemy in such a gift ; 
I In such a sacrifice no abhorence, 
I Or hate, or cursed despite for living things, 
I But rather peaceful love and offering, 
: Of loveliest of thy created sweets. 
Have been subiei-ted to a torturous trial. 
For as upon my altar I did place 
Those smelling gifts my offering to thee, 
Lo, there wasrumbiingsand mighty sounds. 
Huge thunder. ngs of anger and of woe ; 
As if of fearful tribulations dark ; 
Or groanings of gigantic desperation'! 
And jagged forks of blinding lightning 

smote 
The gifts upon the altar, strewing them 
To the four winds, which most enraged 

blew. 
Moaning horrible accents all around. 
And all the mountains in the nether vale 
Did echo and reverberate the soui.ds. 
Tenfold intensified in aw-efulness. 
And I as one sharp-stricken by a bolt 
Of all thy thunderbolts, did fall and swoon. 
And when I woke I wondered where I lay. 
And wondered how I fell me in a swoon, 
O greater wonder did I then behold ! 
My altar-boulder, shattered to the cround. 
Was blacked and singed as by a dreadful 

curse ; 
While everywhere around were branches 
strown. 
! And boughs that erst were blossoming 

and fair ; 
; Blighted and withered by a potent stroke 
I Of thy Almighty vengeance. Everywhere 
Lay wreck and "ruin, devastated plants. 
Storm-stricken by Thy own potential will. 
Hut still more greater wonder ! As I raised 
M y eyes desparing to the level heierht 
, Where first I had been standing, I beheld 
My brother Abel by his altar too ! 



4U 



CAIN. 



Which was not stricken nor was fallen 

down. 
But rather a bright haze of glory lit 
The sacrifice of bleeding lambs upon 
The m ssy boulders of his altur there. 
And as the greedy flames did lustfully 
Lick up the luscious essence of ihe beasts. 
Brighter and brighter rising to the skies, 
I heard cherubic voices chanting sweet 
Tones soft, angelical ; and holily 
Hymmg their psalmies to a Mighty One, 
Whereat amazed lay I, nor did arise. 
Till Abel called me to him. and I rose. 
Hut wearily, as having neither will. 
Or strength, or sao of life within my limbs. 
My arms and body were agrowingache! 
And whirled my senses as the circling bird 
Soaring so swiftly heavenward. 1 paced 
My fool steps slowly to the mass of earr.h, 
W'here Abel soothed me and spake to me 
Most gently saying ; " God is surely wroth 
With thee for offering such pithless glfls. 
Whv didst thou not bring liiiher such a 

ifeast 
As I have ever offered unto him ? 
A tender ewe. and a young snow-fleeced?" 
But said I, '* Is it not a greater gift 
To give of that which nature doth produce 
Most b )unteously and beauteously as 

well ? 
Than to despoil a tender beast of life. 

surely He who is Supreme above 
Doth ask no sacrifice of living things. 
That Life so universal and divine ! 
That Life so beautiful in every shape ! 
The Life He had created for our use. 

1 will not oeftV such. 'Tis unavowed 
By Him or by His messengers of love, 
Whom I have oft beheld, when gloriously 
Through azurine refulgence they went 

winging. 
Towards empyrean realms of blissfulness. 
Bright-winged bands, bright-robed in 

brightest robes 
Of veils supernal, samites jewel-bright ; 
With diamond, sapphire and pearl ! And 

crown 
Orcaron3rs of ruby. emeraM ; 
Imaged in form of beautiful astrals ! 
And srolden ttUels around their golden 

locks."' 
Yet spake he mildly, saying; "Maybe not. 
But surely can His will be more avowed, 
A truer sign of His Omnipotence 
Be gi-ven, than He gave thee even now? 
Thou seest all thy gifts are scattered low, 
Thyself low smited by a sudden pang. 
And therefore why yet scornest to tielieve 
Such is His wiil ! or doubtest 'tis His 

will?" 
But I would not attend him or obey. 
And after many words of wrothful speech, 
I grew more biiter as I spake to him ; 
And aiso angered to extreme degree. 
My senses maddened lue, till almost blind, 



And beyond reason, did we come to blows. 
And then I smote him with a heavy stone, 
Smote him so heavily he fell amain. 
Upon the earth, and lay there bloodily ; 
And silently ! Nor spaiie, nor moved, nor 

saw. 
Or seemed to sec nor sighed, nor anything. 
And I still grasping in my hand the stone 
(() God why didst thou create st nes on 

earth ? 
Knowing perchance what yet would be 

their use) 
Called to him wildly by endearing names. 
And yet he moved not. So I called again. 
But only echo answered, and my heart 
Beating its thunder-tones against my 

breast. 
And then I smote my bosom with the 

ston- , 
Till it was bloody also with my blood. 
As it was wiih my brother Abel's blood. 
And then I knelt beside him wondering 
W^ny breathed he not, or why he did not 

speak. 
For then unknowing even what was Death 
I only wondered why he was so still. 
Till came an angel to my side and spake. 
Saying, 'O Cain thou hast thy brother 

slain, 
N'o need to call him more for he is dead !" 
O (lod Almighty ! horrible is Death ! 
It is most horrible in thought and truth. 
In its e> istence it is horrible. 
For Death existed as I plainly saw ; 
Most horrible. Since that it could trans- 
form 
A living Abel into a living Death. 
So God thou knowestall the other things. 
As also knowest thou what I have sai , 
Yet when confessing my atrocious crime, 
i feel as if a sunbeam came across 
The dai kness and abyss of my lone heart. 
And pierced into its depths with hopeful 

light ! 
Stabbing the sin tliat cowereth darkly 

the e 
C nfession doth alleviate I feel. 
Although there be no pardon for my sin. 
O God is there no pardon I Is there none? 
Erase the brand upon my burning brow. 
The livid symbol of my homicide! 
I Erase the stain from off my pulsing heart! 
Krase those vivid memories of thought ! 
So joyfully I can exist as wont 
Even though bounded in this life of woe. 
Even though Eden was before my eyes 
And I denied an entrance. Even though 
The thorns will sting my feet, the sun will 

parch 
My lips to fever ; and the raging blood 
Flow ravenously through my bursting 

veins. 
God was I not a babe once, innocent? 
When Mother Eve did bare me on her lap. 
With childhood's laughter on my ruby lips. 



CAIN. 



41 



With childhood's merriment and innocence. 
Glassing their sunshine in my laughinj^ 

eves. 
Why didst thou bring forth such a little 

flower 
To wither it potently by despair, 
Remorse, and madness for a willful deed. 
That seemed as destined by thy Holy will? 
If life was sweet once, it were even now. 
Did I have peace in slumbering, or peace 
In waking moments, or a peace 
In drinliii'g. eating, of thy bounteous fare. 
This hast thou not denied me, oulj" peace. 
The rivers murmur from me sparklingly. 
The bright birds twitter in the balmy seats 
Of foliage, umbraging these crystal streams. 
The sun at morn glows mostmas^nificently. 
The moon at even beautifully rise ; 
While the resplendent host of fiery stars. 
Their places occupy throughout the night 
When the divinest hymns and melodies 
Of rapture, blissfulness, and ecstacy. 
Are heard re-echoing through Paradise, 
Chanted by angel bemg numberless. 
Yet God all the?e have now become a ciirse, 
Instead of consolation. vSick and faint, 
I wander over earth, despised, alone ; 
And in my loneliness attended by 
A million frightful demons of despair. 
Gaping their blood-red fangs before my 

eyes; 
Flaring their bloody eyes before my own, 
Cursing their horrid curses in my ear, 
Yea, haunting me more fearfully than 

Death. 
I have seen Nature in tumultuous might. 
Have heard mad pantings in the sullen air ; 
Seen huge upheavings of some vasty 

mount. 
Yet tremble did I not, believing well 
The power that created could ordain 
Chaotic usurpation of all things. 
Aye Chaos in void space and spaceless 

void ! 
And once there came a voice above the 

earth. 
That brake the solemn silence of the night. 
And seemed to startle the calm-looking 

stars 
From their infinity of azure space. 
And seemed to rend the mountains quite 

apart. 
While from the deepest bowels of the earth 
Arose a groan so mighty horrible. 
That I did cast me on the silent stones. 
Which seemed becoming vocal, and with 

life 
Impregnate ; as the trees do ever seem. 
The flowers and the plants that bloom so 

fair. 
But all this past and many mightier things 
Which scarcely reck I of when they are 

past. 



O God, God, God, from Paradise to Hell ! 

O torture endless ano eternal pangs ! 

O uni emitting horror, and deluge. 

And devastation of my happiness. 

Where is my youth and youthful innocence? 
j Where is my youth and youthful playful- 
I ness? 

I That is now changed to awful agony. 
{ Let not this goodly mount of groaning flesh 
j Detjenerate into a mass of ill. 
I Look thou most Glorified, Magnificent ! 
j Thou breedest evil in a willful breast. 

Not in an cA'il breast. Thou killest good 
1 Perchance by doing good forever, God. 
j Thou Avishest that hereafter men may see 

The evil of all evils I have done. 
1 Look thou Omnipotent and Creator! 

Hast thou created me to suffer thus ? 
: Corporeally and spiritually too. 

For I am thunder-smitten, lightening- 
fanged. 
1 And fanged by raging beasts and snakes of 
! earth. 

That crawl all slimely along their way. 
' And beaked by eagles and by birds of prey. 

And stung by wasps, by adders, and by 
thorns, 

And scorned by every little innocent bird 

Singing melodiously in balmy bowers 

And every docile beast of gentleness. 

Why should I live, if living ever thus ? 

So thou bast willed it. Is thy Mighty will 

So unrepenting that it can be deaf 

To all my supplications of remorse? 

To all my plcbdings on devoted knees ; 

My sighs, my tears, my wretchedness, my 
woe. 

Which have ten thousand voices in them- 
1 selves 

And seem to melt the very stones to pity. 
I Are they all changed, transfigured in Thy 
1 eyes. 

I And do beseem to thee a happiness? 
j O God the anguish of repenting late ! 

Yet pray Thou pardon me for what I done. 

To pardon and forgive my blasphemy. 

To take me not from Hell but hellish woe. 
I From the unceasing cursedness of time, 

Which mocks me, mocks me, mocks me 
evermore. 
j O pardon, pardon, pardon, pardon. God ! 

Lo, it is Cain that asketh Thee for this. 

Cain who slew Abel in a fit of rage 

Slaying his brother Abel whom he loved. 

Perchance thou lovest me also God, and yet 

Thou slayest me minutely by the force 

Which thou dost concentrate in everything. 

So be it. I slew Abel, thou slayest Cain. 

And yet I do forgive Thee, O my Lord ! 

Pray then forgive thou Cain for such a 
gift. 

Or give me gift for gift, and give me death 

And T will thank thee with my dying 
breath. 



42 



ODE. 



ODE. 



Two centuries, and more, have passed. 
Since first a knit and hardy band 
Hailed joyously Columbia's strand; 

And on its rugged shore amassed, 
Named it their motherland. 

The chains that bind a prisoner, 
Will after many ages rust— 
Unjustioe must become unjust — 

And who are wrong are apt to err. 
For dust alone is dust. 

And so the chain had rusted then. 
And freed them, spite of tyrant might. 
And justice had become as bright 

As glory, to these noble men. 
What dawn for such a night ! 

For though you chain the hand and foot, 
You cannot slave the mortal will- 
That spirit hath its freedom still. 

Its liberty is absolute. 
Which says all chains are nill. 

What is it that ye can avouch 
Against these Puritans of old? 
The story hath been often told: 

They would not bend, or cringe, or crouch. 
Their faith could not be sold. 

Say what ye will, they were a race 
Whose hardihood, whose simple creed, 
Were in themselves a godly deed. 

They prayed to God, and face to face, 
They gave Him their soul's meed ! 

Stern, awful, though severe, sublime ; 
Both in their purposes and life. 
They were no knights athirst for strife. 

They simply glorified their time. 
Yet chivalry was rife. 

Men gradually understand 
That forces are in everything 
Essential in themselves, to bring 

Men forward from the barren strand. 
Where they are wont to cling. 

And forming an essential part 
I Of life itself, they lead the van. 

So man subjects himself to man. 
A wilderness becomes a mart. 

The mart a worldly plan. 

Who knows where the ideal ends, 

And the reality begins ? 

The man who doth confess his sins 
Beneath his calm confessor bends, 

But who a pardon wins? 



It shall be said in after years : 
"These Pilgrims we must glorify; 
They did not only live to die. 

Who gave their life, their heart's blood- 
tears. 
For Truth, and One on high ! " 

A century then wore away. 
And once again a tyrant king 
Who throve on others suttering. 

Demanded they should homage pay. 
What! bow to such a thing? 

O mockery of boasted power ! 
O Majesty ! whose royal robe 
Was like a rag upon the globe ; 

With all thy kingly crown and dower 
Time Jed thee by the lobe. 

What is there on this glorious earth 

That awfully reinams august? 

'Tis not a king with rule unjust, 
In whom a people from their birth 

Must place a bonded trust. 

There is a still more glorious might ; 
A Freedom that disdains a crown. 
And bears the greatest monarch down 

By will of a divine Right. 
' Fie, Majesty, ttiou clown ! 
I 

I The monarchy begirt with steel, 
I That rules upon a boasted tilt, 
I That conquers by the current spilt 
\ In such affray, will ever seal 
j Its glory with its guilt. 

These men had seen what men despise. 
Had almost felt the tyrant's whip ; 
j And throat to throat, and lip to lip, 
j There rose the full united cries 
i For Freedom's fellowship. 

From every side in Freedom's forge 
Was heard the ringing sound that steeled 
Men's hearts. The men that were to 
wield 

Their weapons 'gainst the tyrant scourge. 
What glory they revealed ! 

From every side there fluttered out 
The sigh as of a spirit freed. 
The biCiith as of a living deed. 

The valor battling every doubt. 
No fear in Freedom's meed ! 

From every side, from hand to hand. 
The golden scroll of Hope was thrust, 
There welled a cry from human dust— 

A cry that was sublime and grand— 
" Our Liberty is just ! " 



ODE. 



43 



From every side, in every home, 
What Hope could do. what Faith could 

will. 
It was a single nation still. 
That sung their hymn 'neath Heaven's 
dome 
With Freedom's grandest thrill ! 



O ye who know of Marathon ; 
Have read the tale of Halamis 
May realize the living bliss 

There is in being Freedom's son. 
Existence is but this ! 



Hurl thunderbolts from heaven's gloom. 
To smite the plant upon the soil; 
To blast the sweets ot gi-oauing toil. 

But Liberty will ever bloom. 
That is no tyrant's spoil. 

The maddenned surges of the deep 
Have dashed the proudest vessels low; 
So Freedom's sons awoke to know 

How long that they had been asleep ; 
Then trebly strong their blow ! 

The lava that depopulates 
The fairest sites of Fortune's land. 
Was seething in their bosom, and 

Was flowing to their city gates. 
Ah, kings should understand! 

Far better if the potent cause 
For which they strove in glorious need. 
Had never had so base a seed. 

In that deep scorn'for tyrant laws; 
But then 'twas worth indeed. 



O beautiful, O glorious Dawn! 

O Paradise of Love and Light ! 

That followed such a gloomy night. 
How quickly were the clouds withdrawn. 

How radiant was the Right ! 

What reck we of the tainted breath 
That swept the land from east to west. 
And laid men on their mother's breast. 

And smited for eternal death ? 
It is eternal rest I 

What wonder if these men became 
What history records they were? 
What wonder if their sons could dare 

For Liberty the storms which came?— 
They lived and died for her. 

Fair Truth, arise ! thou radiant one ! 
More beautiful than is the day, 
And Liberty, thou too. and say 

That Time knew but one Washington, 
For none shall answer " Nay." 



A grand, heroic man himself, 
A perfect symbol of the life 
He perfected through glorious strife. 

A heart coined for no pomp or pelf; 
For Liberty but rife ! 

A nobleman in every sense. 
And living for a living truth ! 
That scorned the monarchy, forsooth, 

Which tyranized with slight pretense 

. Of royalty and ruth. 

While others in the glorious cause, 
As kin and kin, or brethren ; 
The bright, refulgent temple then 

Of Liberty, by freest laws. 
Built for their countrymen, 

; 'Twas glory then, 'twas more, to breathe 
The unpolluted air which blew 
Along the skies of Freedom. True, 
Her flowers withered in the wreath. 
But they have bloomed anew. 

We shall not reek the bitter curse 
That lay upon this beauteous clime . 
O God, to think of such a time ! 
; It seems as if the L^niverse 
i Then wallowed in its slime, 

I Yet came the morrow, came the morn, 
j More glorifled , more refulgent I 

Men truly saw what Freedom meant ; 
! That men were men wherever born, 
j However chained or pent ! 

tenfold. O ten-thousand fold. 

The praise must be to those who rose. 
And battled for the negroes' woes. 
j For Freedom is more manifold, 
I Than freemen may suppose. 

And he whose deep, sagacious mind. 
Discerned the good, discerned the ill. 
'Till men obeyed his wondrous will, 

\^ hat ayes can his glory bind? 
Who is eternal still ! 

1 almost can arise to mock 

What seemeth an unravelled fate — 
When Murder could assassinate 
This Solon. Overthrow this rock ! 
God's curse on such a fate. 

Our ship of State was on the waves. 
Our Liberty in ppril then ; 
And he a prophet among men. 
United all to free the slaves. 
' Ah, for his like again ! 

I His was a glorious overthrow, 
I The opposite of Caesar's own. 
As he was Freedom's son alone, 

A nation now remains below 

His monumental stone. 



44 



CLEOPATRA. 



A nation that in futiire years 
Shall find the worth of being free. 
Shall multiply their Liberty 

Shall know no Kfief, and yet their tears. 
Shall, Lincoln, flow for thee ! 

Thou Goddess of the deathless braves ! 

Thou Goddess of the living ones ? 

Remember when the roar of guns 
Went echoing across the waves, 

And glorify thy sons. 

Remember thy Omnipotence ! 

Remember thy Divinity ! 

Men have lived martyrdoms for thee, 
To feel the glory of the sense 

There is in being free. 

Thy standard is as proudly borne 
Aloft, and kissed by every breeze ; 
As are the waves of azure seas 

Kissed by the kiss of golden Morn ; 
As leaves upon the trees. 

Thy banner shall as grandly wave. 
As flows the mighty Ocean's tide. 
Columbia now is Freedom's bride ! 

And wears no more the warrior s glave, 
For Peace is at her side. 

Where is the battle's flash and din? 

Its roar and thundering cannonade? 

Thy heroes with unsheathed blade? 
Alas ! we sadly point within 

Earth's tomb, where they are laid ! 

Lo, now and then, and then and now, 
I hear the mighty pealing bells 
Above the clime where Freedom dwells. 

How much their melodies avow. 
Borne on eternal swells ! 

Lo, then and now, and now and then 

It eVer will become the same. 

There is a joy in Freedom's name, 
That fires the glorious souls of men. 

The spirit of their frame ! 

O Liberty, eternal Truth ? 

Thy glory hath been oft avowed. 

But 1 have drawn aside a cloud. 
And bend before thee in my youth. 

And am before thee bowed ! 



CLEOPATRA. 

Cleopatra, thou Egyptian Queen! 

1 dreamt I saw thee, saw thee as thou wast, 
How many ages shall I say ago? 

In all thy beautiful luxuriance ; 
With thy dark tresses put in disarray. 
Brilliant with gems of every brilliant hue, 



And thy fair bosom with its dazzling boss 
Of ivory and amber tints ; as pale 
And fair and white, as are the icy -tops 
Upon the Alps or Apennines. 
Alas! 

So fair a temple shrined so foul desire. 
So fair an idol was so wont to sin. 
So beautiful a being was the choice. 
The sport and plaything of Rome's con- 
querors. 
I^ow .Julius Ceesar, now Marc Antony. 
Ill-fated woman in thy beauty blessed; 
Charming the spirit of the warrior-man. 
As the dark Hindoo charms the poisonous 

snake. 
As the foul snake a bird of innocence. 
How very lustful wast thou then. 
Alas! 

O Cleopatra, thou Egyptian Queen ! 
Sporting a moment with the tides of Time 
As thy fair galleys on the dazzling Nile ; 
As thine maid-servants with their raven- 
locks. 
Thyself so radiant and so beautiful; 
Dazzling the very spirit of our thought. 
Maddening us to an intense degree 
Of thrilling rapture. Lo, the trickling 

founts 
Have showered enough spray for thee and 

thine, 
Thev sparkle in thj' palace-courts no more. 
Alas ! 

Those temples and those palaces which girt 
This shining river wit,h their inarble-bands, 
With steps smooth paven of Mosaic-stone, 
Broadly descended to this flowery bank ; 
Then thronging with the fairest of the fair, 
Thou, dusky queen, most beautiful of all- 
Are now no more unto the seeking eye. 
Thy gardens with their perfume wafted 

far. 
Intoxicating odours of the flowers. 
Are blossomless, are perfumeless, 
Alas! 
No more the throngs and multitudes of 

joy! 
The clashing cymbals and the thrilling 

lute ; 
The lyre and cithern with their music 

sweet. 
The galleys swaying with the balmy wind. 
Fragrant as the ^^gean wind beyond. 
Their gorgeous canopies of woven gold. 
The dazzling purples and Syriac silks ; 
The jewelled vestment of thy consellors 
The glitterings armors of the warrior-men 
The splendors of thv worshippers. 
Alas! 

O Cleopatra, thou Egyptian Queen! 
Clasp me within thj^ Amazonian arms. 
Circle me grandly with those bands of 

love. 
What though in dreaming I beheld thee 

nov, ? 
Cannot the spirit still re-animate 



SING, SING, SING. -TWO VOICES.-GATE OF PITY.-CHARMED LAND. 45 



Such loveliness as thine, voluptuous 
In all its radiant j?lory? Kiss me, Kiss me ! 
The ruby is upon thy lips, thy cheeks, 
Kiss me, although thy lips and cheeks are 

dewed 
With poison ! Kiss me, dying on that very 

kiss ! 
Alas ! 



SING. SING, SING. 



Sing, sing, sing. 

Thou little bird of morn. 
Thou knowest no suffering. 

No bitterness or scorn. 



It is by God's grace indeed. 

That we may thus hear thee chant 
As a little living seed 

Hringeth forth a beauteous plant. 



O the spirit of my breast 

Is most like to thine sweet bird. 
And He willing for the best, 

Willeth that we may be heard. 

Sing, sing, sing. 

Thou poet-bird of morn. 
For the message that you bring 

Hath not made me feel forlorn. 



TWO VOICES. 



What saith the lily to the rose ? 

So saith the lily : 
"I cannot bear the wind which blows. 

It is so fierce and chilly." 

What saith the mother to her child I 

So saith the mother : 
''Alas ! with such a night so wild. 

We shall not live another." 



There came a colder, fiercer blast ; 

The lily pale lay blighted. 
The mother too and child had past 

Beyond this world united. 



THE GATE OF PITY. 

Unto that silent city 

Which men call city of Death, 
There is but one Gate of Pity ; 

So a voice within me saith. 

There are many other gateways 

That lead us there within. 
Yea, many small and great ways, 

F'or Innocence and Sin ; 
But none like to this portal. 

Which only opes to those 
Who loved each being mortal. 

And tended to their woes. 

And when such one doth enter 

Upon this golden way. 
An angel called, " Repenter," 

Doth free him from his clay. 

What though he sinned while living? 

He loved his fellow-kin. 
And pitied them, forgiving 

Their lowliness and sin. 

And so when he departeth 
This mortal life which clods. 

He only gladly bartereth 
His pity for his God's. 



CHARMED LAND. 

The crimson sunset blushed upon the 

peaks. 
Kissing the idle ocean waves beyond. 
The bright-eyed waterfalls and rippling 

creeks. 
Did joyfully unto themselves respond. 
The serpentinuous vaUey wound and 

wound 
Its grass-green lawnways past the pur- 
pled hills. 
And all was silentness, except the sound 
' Of those forever falling founts and rills. 
I Or softer sighs, and prelude of the leaves, 
I When the fair Minstrel Wind, with magic 

hands 
I Did wake their soulful strings, at morns 
I and eves. 
That dawned and died upon the Charmed 
Land. 



I For Charmed Land it was. No mortal 
eyes 
Had ever seen its beauteous hills and 
! vales. 

. Nor listened to the rapturous melodies. 
Of its bright morning birds and night- 
ingales. 



46 



THREE ARTS.— KISSES. 



Nor listened to the murmurous relapse 
Of all its glittering waters, soft and low . 
That bathed the still flowers and the saps 
Of migiity forest-kings in trickling flow. 
Calm days were here, and calmest nights 

of light ; 
And calm-eyed Zephyrs lapped in soft 

repose 
'Midst bowers of the pink and pansies 

bright ; 
'Midst bowers of the englantine and rose. 



Yea, Charmed Land, it was in regions far; 
All beauteous and murmurous with song 
Of brooks and birds, that hailed the morn- 
ing star 
While winging on the perfumed winds 

along. 
But in its cool recesses, unbeseen 
To any, and unknown even to them; 
Dazzling a palace with its marble sheen. 
And windows bright with many a flashing 

gem. 
Rose burnished on a river's flowery-shores. 
The palace of the fairies was it known. 
With richly-gilt and golden-carven doors, 
And floors of amber and of beryl-stone. 



And softly breathed flowers here about, 
And sweetly murmured Zephyrs there 

within 
And faries beautiful sped in and out. 
While languid music played its lulling din. 
And gayly danced the sunbeams on the 

stream, 
And brightly flashed the porphyr on the 

walls ; 
While there within was fairer than a 

dream. 
With all the splendor of its fountain-falls. 
And golden censers breathed poppy-scent, 
Of anibegris, and nard, and hellebore; 
While damask-foldings, panels richly dent, 
Were radiant-figured with Apollo-lore. 

Yea, Charmed Land it was. The fairy- 
seat 

Of queen Titana, men it wont to call. 

Ere Oberon with all his saying sweer, 

Did woo her sweetly to his palace-hall. 

Here gayly sported her delightful nymphs, 

In these bright fountain bathed their bright 
selves 

Or culled sweet flowers for their playmate 
lymphs, 

Or with cool apples pelted rosy elves. 

Yea, Charmed Land, which men shall see 
no more. 

Which at one touch hath vanished for the 
time. 

Till come another, who as one before. 

Shall brightly weave them in his fairy- 
rhyme. 



THREE ARTS. 

A fair, fair face, the painter painted ; 

With lips a bud for laughter. 
And men beheld it still untainted 

Through many ages after. 

A beauteous form the sculptor sculp- 
tured. 

In marble wrought his story ; 
And they who saw it afterward. 

Did marvel at its glory. 

The poet sang the mighty strain 
His thrilling spirit worded ! 

And yet men say he sang in vain, 
Since only God had heai'd it ! 



KISSES. 



Kiss of the wind, 

And kiss of the sod ; 
If they have sinned 

They have sinned but to God. 

Kiss of the lips. 

That sleeps calm in death ; 
And mj^ spirit now sips. 

From the soul of thy breath. 

Kiss of the trees. 

And kiss of the flowers. 
And the breath on the seas 

Is the sigh of the bowers. 

Kiss of the spirit. 

That springs from the root. 
And the tree doth inherit 

All the seed of its fruit. 

Yet ah, for the kiss 

Of thy lips and mine ! 
Since the rapture of this. 

Is a rapture divine. 

Yet ah, for the touch 
Of thy lips and mine own ! 

For the bliss that is much. 
And the sorrow unknown 

And ah, for the thrill 
Of a heai t and a heart ! 

For the Love that is still 
As an angel apart. 

The Love as a child 

Which we tenderly nursed ; 
Whose azure orbs smiled 

On our bright eyes the first. 

See the virginal dawn 
Of our ioy hath begun; 

For the clouds have withdrawn, 
And our love is the sun ! 



THE MESSAGE.— THE FORSAKEN— TO MARGUERITE. 47 



THE MESSAGE. 

"Shall Love be the bearer 

Of love which I send thee" 

" Then Love, time is ' arer 

Than love, thither wend thee. 
Tell her none are fairer, 

To her I commend thee." 
•' What saith thou she told thee 

Perusing my message ?" 
"Thus said she— Nay, hold thee 

For just one sweet guess-age— 
' Sweet Love I enfold ihee 

For what thou dost presage.' " 

"Then Love, tell her truly 

Again I adore her. 
As ever did surely 

Poor Tasso, Lenora. 
As sweetly and purely. 

She dwells as Deborah. 

"Then show her the pathway 
That leads to thy bowers. 

For even Love hath way 
To blossom his flowers. 

No pain there nor w^rath-way 
Shall chide us the hours. 

"And there will we linger. 
Till daylight hath faded. 

And evening's fair finger 
Her raven locks braided. 

And the bulbul-singer 
Doth sing, shadow-shaded. 

"And there we will linger 

In ivy-embraces. 
And then will I bring her 

My face where her face is. 
And kissing her, sing her 

How blissful Love's grace is !" 



O God, pray give her grace. 
Who falsely thus beguiled is ! 

And what scorn shall her debase 
If Thy love in her fair child is. 



TO MARGUERITE. 

never give me sweeter words 

Than what the earthly songsters sing, 
The masses of the trilling birds 
Do sooth my deepest sorrowing. 

1 often hear the holy chant. 
And peal of bells along the air; 

But ah, for all The sweet descant 
Of songsters in the morning there. 

The peace, the joy, the bliss, the balm. 
The solitude that ever thrills. 

Are on me like a potent calm. 
As sunshine on the silent hills. 

My sanctuary is apart 

From worldy monasteries built ; 
My altar is my throbbing heart. 

However it be stained with guilt, 

My worship a transcendent faith 
In God and on eternal Love. 

My Hope— no phantom form or wraith- 
Speaks to me as a cooing dove. 

I yearn for thee through endless space. 
I clasp thee through an endless void ; 
j Thy form, thy lips, thy eyes, thv face. 
Are near me pure and unalloyed. 

O joy, O bliss, O hope divine ! 

O rapture to intoxicate ! 
There comes a balmy breath of thine. 

And says, " There is no death, no 
fate !" 



THE FORSAKEN. 

Beautiful little child. 

Love's purest, fairest comer ; 
With thy eyes so bright and wild. 

And thy cheeks so like the Summer : 

Suck from the milk-white breast I 

The milk which'life must borrow; I 

And it shall luil thee to rest. 
Though it comtj from the fount of sorrow. | 

Sleep as the lilies sleep ! 

Wake as the swallows waken ! 
For thou hast no cause to weep. 

Not being like her forsaken. 



At morn, at noon, at aftermath. 
Thy image still is shrined within. 

Thou guidest me along the path. 
While I am but a Muezzin. 

Remember when the priest of morn 
Were chanting in the boughs and trees; 

For then and then my faith was born. 
And sanctioned by their melodies. 

The fathomless, the rapt, intense, 
And deep devotion of the soul. 

The worship of my spirit's sense. 
Thou hast within thy own control ! 

And the ideal Love renews 

Its adoration and its faith ; 
For even evening shining dews 

May be the glistening tears of death . 



48 



THE MAIDEN OF SIN. 



THE MAIDEN OF SIN. 



The convent-bells were tolling low, 
Solemnly swinging to and fro ; 
Each toll went forth like a wail of woe, 
Like the wail of a spirit in deathless throe ; 

Dolefully, dolefully swinging ! 
The pallid moon throuarh the azure dipt. 
She was clammy-haired, she was clammy- 
lipped. 
The dew from her brow all icily dript ; 
And her beams pierced through to the 
gloomy crypt. 

While still the bells were ringing. 



The pallid moon that was in her wane. 
Like a lady dying in silent pain ; 
Like a silver shield on a trodden plain ; 
And she shewed her face through the 

chancel-pane. 
And on the carven altar. 
On the shining cross, on the glistening 

beads. 
On the holy book with its sacred bredes 
Of martyr-saints and saintly deeds; 
While the night-wind sighed through the 

church-yard weeds 
With many a moan and falter. 



Twelve strokes pealed from the chapel- 
clock ; 

Too early yet for the crowing cock. 

Yet a train of priests in their flowing 
smock, 

And their white surplice, draw the heavy 
lock 
And chain from off the portal. 

Then silently, slowly along they pace ; 

Silently, with their unhooded face 

And head, which they did sadly abase. 

While their trenibling lips kept murmur- 
ing grace 
For every living mortal. 

Silently, slowly, along they go ; 

While the bells kept swinging to and fro. 

Tolling forth their notes of woe. 

As the living moved with the dead below ; 

The dead so fair and holy. 
There was no cloud in the somber skies. 
Though the wind sobbed forth its dreary 

sighs ; 
And the million stars seemed the radiant 

eyes 
Of beautiful seraphs in Paradise. 

While still the bells tolled slowly. 

Is it best, O God, to give or keep? 
Is it better still to laugh than weep ? 
Is it best to sow, is it best to reap? 
Is it best to wake, is it best to sleep? 
O God thou only knoweth. 



The clouds have come and have floated by ; 
The clouds that wept in a stormy sky. 
The fairest live and the fairest die. 
And low, low, low, in their graves they 
lie; 
While still the river floweth. 



The priests are chanting a mournful mass. 
They have laid the dead on nhe glistening 

grass. 
Let us gaze upon it as on we pass, 
A beautiful, beautiful maiden. Alas! 

'Tis for her the bells are knelling. 
A beautiful, beautiful being! As cold, 
\nd slim as the pillars that do uphold 
Yon Virgin and Child in their sculptured 

mould 
Both Virgin and Child are aureoled, 

Holy in their niche-dwelling. 

O she was flt to be wed with Earls ! 

W^ith her golden hair and its glossy curls ; 

With her ivory throat and moutn's rich 

pearls. 
And yet she lived 'midst these village- 
churls. 

The bells are tolling slowly. 
They say that she was in the chancel bred. 
But now in the chancel that she lay dead. 
Pale as a swan's wings, or pallid as dread 
She did not listen to what they said. 

For she was silent wholly. 



Her fringed lashes lay upon each cheek. 
Her glossy curls were combed so sleek. 
She looked so beautiful and so meek. 
With her lips part oped as if she would 

speak. 
But she was dead forever. 
The cold beams shone on each tapering 

shaft. 
There came a colder and colder draft ; 
On the windows the pictured Apostles 

quaffed 
The spirit of Jesus. It seemed they 

laughed— 
It seemed— for they laughed never. 



The moon-beams fell on the towering pile. 
On each grinning gyre, on .each church- 
yard aisle- 
Till the gravestones smiled with a ghastly 

smile- 
On each oriel-pane, on each wreathed tile. 

Each corbetand each column. 
On the windows dyed so richly quaint 
With figures of prophet, martyr, and 

saint ; 
With the Virgin and Son in a brighter 

taint : 
And the Holy Ghost as a dove against, 
While still the bells tolled solemn. 



MY QUEEN. 



A wreath of lilies was on her brow, 

Her cheeks still glowed with a hectic 

f^low. 
Although Life's current had ceased to flow. 
And the convent-bells still to and fro 

Were dolefully swinging. 
They laid her near a new-niadc grave. 
While a priest with holy water did lave 
Her beautiful features as cold as a wave. 
While. "O blessed Lord, her spirit save!" 

Others were sadly singing. 

Another pale lily was in her hand. 
Pale and wan as her ownself, and 
A necklace of beads and a cross I scanned 
Around her swan-throat. O fair, most 
grand 

She looked 'neath the moonlight ; dimly 
Shining upon her with tremulous beams, 
Piercing through her vesture's seams ; 
Showing her spotless bosom and limbs. 
While the priests chanted their holy 
hymns. 

Some sadly and some grimly. 

They say he won her with but a tale, 
O it covild not be that she was so frail. 
So frail, alas ! and so beautiful pale. 
Robed in her girdle and shining veil. 

What being could thus blight her { 
A knight they s ly, who with shield and 

lance, 
And fair unhelmeted countenance. 
Had come for a joust in the fields of France. 
And he wooed her with but a knight's bold 
glance. 

What false vows did he plight her ! 

They say he won her with but a song. 
Could she be right then if she was wrong? 
But she was weak and her love was strong. 
And he was false, false as hell ! O long 

O long for him she waited ! 
They say he won her with but a word. 
Poor little maiden, poor little bird. 
Far better had it never been heard. 
Then now like a sinner to be interred. 

For his passion soon was sated, 

A curse upon such a false, false knight ! 
A curse upon him by day and nisrht, 
A curse unon hmi for every plight. 
Be each vow unto him a terrible blight. 

And his bread as gall hereafter. 
And let every living-self-drawn oreath. 
Torture and pang him nigh unto death. 
As Jesus was tortured at Nazareth. 
And be every shadow to him a wraith. 

Every echo a mocking laughter. 

They pressed upon her pale, pale lips. 
A richly jewelled crucifix 
And again the ghoul-like padre dips 
In the holy water his finger tips. 
And sprinkles her cold forehead. 



And as the bells swing to and fro. 
She is lowered low, she is lowered low. 
For r)ll the dead are lowered so 
Whose ashes no brazen urn can know. 
But must in earth be buried. 

The beautiful dead with beautiful face 
Is in ber eternal resting place. 
Waiting for His eternal grace, 
O is there such for earth's mortal race ? 

Who knoweth I \V ho knoweth? 
The bells have ceased their mournful toll. 
The spirit arrayed in its radiant stole 
May now have reached its immortal goal. 
O God forgive her sinless soul ! 

If to Thee our spirit goeth. 



I MY QUEEN. 

I Shall I sue to your heart like a slave 
I Who must kneel for his freedom? Alas! 
I would rather sue low to the grave 
For a couch and a pillow of grass. 
I would rather staiwe love to the death. 
Than to plead for my love with its breath. 

You are fair. Was it ever denied? 
Since your beauty has made you so proud, 

how fair you would be as a bride. 

If the bridegroom were robed in a shroud. 
If the altar were placed in a tomb. 
And the wedding the day of your doom. 

1 have seen your bright eyes flash in scorn ; 
And I thought to myself of the soul 

That within such a being was born. 
Could it brook e'en a lover's control? 
, Could it bend to the shrine of his heart? 
; Could it be of his part but a part ! 

Throned a queen in the home of your gold. 
Owned a queen for your beautiful state. 

I could say to you : " Maiden, behold ! 
This is Love, this is Faith, this is Hate." 

And I barter my soul that you choose 
' That in which there is nothing to lose. 

You would not mock the rose for its blush, 

Yet you would scatter far all its leaves ; 
As carelessly too as you crush 

The spirit within me that grieves. 
You would not trample down on a worm, 
I But onlv extinguish its germ. 
i 
In the world is no desert akin 

To the desert that comes in a heart. 
That mockingly shrineth within 
Hate's bitterest counterpart. 
j Xo grief like the grief of a youth 
' Deceived in the falsehood of truth. 



50 



MY QUEEN. 



In the world is no faith and no trust ; 

No Hope, lest it be false and base. 
No Love, if it be not the dust 

Which bloweth itself in our face. 
No faith and no trust, but all scorn ; 
Alike for the born and unborn. 

And the wail of a passionate heart, 
Will only be strown on the wind. 

For the sufferer is bid stand apart 
From the march of the man and 
mind. 

The air may re-echo his moan. 

For the rest all the grief is his own. 



the 



I coiild thrust through my heart such a 
sword 

As the Turkeman uses to wield. 
But because I am mocked and abhored, 

I will scorn to be fallen and yield 
And I clasp in my hands like a scroll. 
All the filiraent threads of my soul. 

What reck I for your beauty's despite. 

What reck I for the curls of your lips. 
For your eyes, that flash coldness as 
bright 
As the rays of the moon ere eclipse. 
For the sneer of your tongue and the 

scorn 
In your words, sharply-pricked as a thorn. 

O how many have died in a cell 

For the sake of the love they confessed ! 
As I suffer the torments of hell 

For the sake of the love in my breast. 
While my cheeks and my brow are as 

clammed 
As the cheeks and the brow of the 
dammed. 

Shall I kneel to you low on my knees 
And offer the wealth I possess? 

And say, "These are the riches and these 
To crown you and your loveliness." 

O my queen I have nothing to give 

But my love— scorn it not. let it live. 

O my queen ! What a world in the word, 
Girt about by its number of slaves. 

And the royalty grandly interred 
In its thousand and thousands of graves 

Let me call you my queen; for your throne 

Is a heart-dais, sculptured in stone. 

You are compassed about by the smiles 
Of those skilled in the flatterer's art. 

And of course no true love yours beguiles, 
For you scarcely have thought of a 
heart. 

Such a heart at the most as is mine. 

Is too deep for your heart to divine. 



I who plunder the treasures of thought. 
And mould them anon into rhyme, 

Until I have passionately wrought 
Mine own name in the temple of Time, 

I am not much alike to the rest. 

Who would suck all the sweets of your 
breast ; 



And turn all those sweets into gall. 

Until bitterly late you discern 
That the drops of the manna let fall 

Will never more to us return 
And the dew on the flower is dried. 
As the flower is withered beside. 



And the clouds in the sky that were gold, 
And the sunshine in air that was warm. 

Have their gloomier sides to unfold. 
That may bring us a blight and a storm. 

And the sigh of the air ever brief, 

Is the prelude to bitterer grief. 



And the echolcss voices of night 
Fall dreaiily chill on the heart. 

Till the sovran goddess Delight 
Is forced from her temple to start. 

Till the fibres are twinged with the woe, 

And the spirit succumbs to the throe. 



Till the basilick eyes of Despair 

Have charmed all our senses to sleep. 
And we wake with the dew in our hair. 
And our eyes and our hearts sunken 
deep. 
And our hopes parched and dry as the 

dust. 
And our faith ever covered with rust. 



And our gladness a thing of the past. 
With our sorrows athrove as the day. 

Till we live to discover at last 
We are truly alone but a clay. 

Imbued with the fire which was stole 

By Prometheus. Owned by the soul. 



01 yearn for an eternal meed 
As high as the stars from the earth. 

So I ihink me too lofty to plead 
For the drouth of your love in my 
dearth. 

Though you are like that beautiful queen. 

Asp-stung on her bosom's fair sheen. 



As pearls in the shells of the deep ; 

As gems in the deeps of the mine. 
So the love of my spirit would keep 

Thy own love in its passionate shrine. 
Would you wait till my spirit be dead. 
For your spirit and mine to be wed? 



MY QUEEN. 



51 



There are moments that we would forget. 
Though remembrance sometimes be a 
balm. 

There are morrows that bring us regret, 
More blighting than stoi-ms after calm. 

And a madness that cankers us much, 

And a sadness with poisonous touch. 

There are tears for the ones in the grave, 

Who sleep in eternal repose. 
Thei-e are tears for the weak and the brave, 

But ah. who will weep for my woes? 
For the void which I feel in my breast? 
For the pangs o f my spirit's unrest ? 

There are vows which the lover disdains. 
When the heart of the maiden is stole. 

And her spirit is bound in the chains 
With which Love circum passes the soul. 

And the Virtue she shrined as a pearl 

Becomes fit for the scorn of a churl. 

There are stains which will blemish the 
same. 

Howsoever their blot Time efface. 
There are names which no honor can claim. 

When but once fallen into disgrace. 
There are joys ever fleeing away 
From the fear of a painful decay. 

Should I humble my heart at your feet. 
If Hope says you will pick it up ? 

When I know that the bitter and sweet 
Are mingled the both in the cup ? 

Ah, its crimsoning brim hath been kissed 

Bj' too many such madmen, I wist. 

Should I be like the grape in the press. 
Till the purnle be pressed from my veins? 

Since I find that existence-is less 
For the loss of my loss than your gains? 

I am not even godly, but part 

Clay and matter, or clod as thou art. 

O my own ! Let me call you my own ! 

Thoiigh the word be a mock and a scorn. 
As the love which you seem to disown 

Has made me wish I was unborn. 
O my own, O my love, O my queen ! 
What is that which no mortal has seen ? 

When we tread on the atoms of dust. 
Do we tread on the dust of the dead ? 

So I tread on a love that is just. 
As I tread on the love you have bred. 

Tread upon it and trample it down. 

Do not give it a thorn-woven crown. 



I Would you barter your being for gold 1 
Part and parcel become of the hoard 

j Which the miser hath hid in his hold ? 
He who is to be named as your lord. 

I Would you wither your beauty and youth, 

j For the sake of his treasures, forsooth ? 

O youth's love, that is ever divine ! 

Like the balm of the luxurious South, 
O the love both for thine and for mine. 

That could be by the lips of thy mouth ! 
That could be by the touch of thy hand. 
Like the thrill of an electric band. 

Will you w^ear this fair rose for my sake. 
Midst the flash and the splendor of 
dress 
That will keep you till morning awake. 
In the halls thronged with much loveli- 
ness ? 
Will you shrine this fair flower on thy 

breast? 
A pure love for a temple so blessed. 

For my sake, for the sake of a heart 
That is still as a slave to your ov.-n. 

That would have but one temple apart. 
But one being, one worship, one throne. 

For my sake, O most beautiful queen. 

On thy breast let this flower be seen. 

j While the flush and the swell and the fall 

I uf the music to-night on thy ear 

I Thrill thy bosom with pride, think of all. 

Remember the love that is here. 
I You will not ! still Hove you the same, 
j All regardless of honor and fame. 

1 'Tistoo much that I crave in exchange, 
I For a love that may falsely be base. 
1 Thus to ask your affections to range 
I For the one poor in fortune and grace. 

It was less to refuse than to give, 
i If perchance I am fated to live. 

To renounce all the wealth and the show% 
I All the splendor of Pride and Desire. 

All the pleasure that binds ns below, 
I For the sake of the spirit's aspire. 
[ All the lustre that girds you around. 

So that Love could be beggarly crowned. 

I You would never wear rags for my sake. 
Beg or starve for the Love I posess. 

Till the heart in its misery break, 
As my own would not suffer the less. 

You could never consent to be mine. 

While my all were in hopes not divine. 



Let the aneuish, the torture, the pang O my queen! It is pleasure to mock 

Of a terrible pennance be mine. I Such a beautiful thing as you are. 

Like the wails "midst the roar and the clang As I know that your heart is a rock. 
And groanings of giants supine. ! As I know there is Venus, a star. 

Let the bitterness be on my heart, ; As I know you are fitter for shame. 



Like the poisonous dews of Astarte. 



Than my soul to love's passionate flame. 



52 



THRENODY.— THE WARNING.— MANHOOD. 



THRENODY. 

I shall not weep for thee. 

Since tears are idly shed. 
For thou hast ceased to be. 

And art among the dead. 

I shall not sadly weep 

But cherish Love alway. 
With hopes athirst to reap 

Its blissful joy some day. 

And since in Heaven's place 

I deem thee winging there, 
I yet may find its grace 

And gladness unaware. 

sweet, O sweet! if the hours were mine 
To wanton with at pleasure, 

1 should mingle them blissfvilly with thine. 
Where Time doth liave no measure. 

The hours irag by with their shrouded bier. 
Wherein Hope must be buned. 

And I follow them with a feeling drear. 
For my heart it feels awearied. 

The days pass on with an aching heart, 
And their features full of sorrow ; 

For alas! alas! we had to part 
Before a glad to-morrow. 

The birds sing not in the clouded sky, 
But have winged away in ether. 

I have seen many snowdrops and roses die. 
And yet we are not together. 

The flowers have perished before the cold, 
The valleys are still and lonely ; 

And T cannot joyfully behold 
Thy beautiful features only. 

O thou art now where those songsters sing 

That know not a hereafter. 
But for me, alas ! there is no such Spring, 

No joy, no love, no laughter. 



The hours with bliss were laden 
When thou wert by my side. 

My love, O beautiful maiden, 
if thou hadst been my bride ! 

The sunshine brought a blessing 
To the flowers upon the hills. 

Where the soft wind were caressing 
The daisies and daffodils. 

Thy clear eyes were ever glowing, 
And thy features ever smiled; 

As innocent and unknowing. 
As a beautiful little child. 



Thy bright eyes were ever beaming, 
And thy cheeks were ever red, 

it must be I am dreaming 
Thus to think that thou art dead, 

1 went where thou art sleeping. 
When the flowers do shed there dew 

And seeing them sadly weeping. 
Oh I wept above thee too ! 



THE WARNING. 

There came the voice of the Lord 

Unto the temple-hall ! 
But his warning was ignored. 

They heeded not his call. 

And 'twixt the cithole and lyre. 
Was heard the flow of the flute 

For thrilled with passionate fire. 
No soul in the hall was mute. 

There came the voice of the Lord 

Unto that revel-place! 
But his warning was ignored. 

Yea, laughed they in His face. 

Then came the angels of God. 

And smote the revellers down. 
And upon the wine-stained sod. 

They threw the king's fair crown 

There came the voice of the Lord, 
Saying, "I have done ye well!" 

But still was He ignored. 
For their souls had fled to hell. 



MANHOOD. 

As a poet gaineth glory when the laurel 

first he wins. 
So the life of man beginneth when his 

manhood-life begins. 

As the purple of the sunset, as the crim- 
son of the rose. 

Are the clouds that then surround him, 
fairer none can he suppose. 

As the gloominess of midnight, as the 

Autumn-blasted leaf, 
So his heart can come to sorrow, being 

withered by his grief. 

On the threshold or the portal of his youth, 

existence seems 
Like a life of golden glory, rainbow-ai'ched 

with brilliant beams. 



MANHOOD. 



53 



Every dawn intoxicates him ; and his sense 

is madly thrilled 
B}^ the songsters sweetly singing, or by 

flower-cups dew-filled. 

By a maiden tripping gaily on her destined 

course of life. 
Whom he looks on as an angel, whom he 

wisheth as a wife. 

Though the mills of gods grind slowly, yet 

their slowliness is sure. 
Time will come when all this gladness will 

be needed to endure. 

If an aureole of splendor-tints can circle 

heaven's skies, 
So his hopes can wreath together all the 

bliss of Paradise. 

Not he seeketh for the fountain fabled as 

perpetual youth. 
Youth is his, and all its yearnings have 

been centered upon Truth. 



Pass his life away in calmness, in the sol- 
itude that slaves, 

Or defy the stormy-fury of the tempest 
roaring waves. 

Fit to live within a palace, such as Salad- 
din's the Wise, 

Or create an ideal Common v/ealth beneath 
I'omotest skies. 

Fit to be a great Achilles leading on his 

Myrmidons, 
Or Napoleon in glory midst the roar of 

flaming guns. 

Or to linger like Ulysses in a Circe's 

magic arms. 
Or to be a softer Paris for a fairer Helen's 

charms. 

Scarcely recks he of existence seeing tis a 

life to live, 
Every plant must have its blossom, every 

blossom seed to give. 



Not he mourneth for the morrow, which i And he sees the evolution which creates 



may even not arrive. 
Everything he sees is beautiful and Na- 
ture's self alive. 



and un creates. 
Is eternal in its forces, never ceases or 
or abates 



Intellectual aspirations weav 

thoughts to sweetest rhyme. 
While spiritual aspirations lead him to a 

fairer clime. 



his I Theremustbepredestination, he considers, 
in all things. 
If a God wills comes a sorrow to the maid 
who gladly sings. 



What his hopes are, he conceiveth, are but 
blossoms of the mina. 



If a God wills, man must suffer, it is 
spoken in the curse. 



What his thoughts are, he conceiveth, i And his word would be suflicent to destroy 



blossoms strown upon tiie wind. 

In the Book of Life he flndeth every leaf 
is golden-hued. 



the Universe. 

Till by gradual progression he arises from 
the gloom; 



Every flower nearly faded by a drop of ] As a flower blooms and blossoms, so man's 



dew renewed. 



intellect mu-st bloom. 



He could be a John of Patmos— but not ' And unfold each day the Wisdom which it 



for such martyr-cause 



has divinely so. 



Pass his life within a desert— but the val- : Like a gem which doth discover all its 



ley makes him pause. 



tints to man below. 



He could lap him in luxuriance as volup- Till with each day he discerneth what is 



tuoup kings of old. 



Life's ideal state. 



Yet could clasp his arms in battle as their And what laws in Human Nature justly 



mighty heroes bold. 



must predominate. 



Build his shrine to Art and Beauty, living And what is the purpose also of existence 



an eternal peace. 



on this earth. 



While surrounded by the glory which As a gift which has been given to sur- 



alone belongs to Greece. 



render to its birth. 



Yet begird himself in aimor, glittering | For through the perpetual ages it must 



with gold emboss, 



ever be the same. 



And become a knight-Crusader warring for I Souls shall ever be immortal, man be ever 



the Holy Cross. 



but in name. 



54 KNIGHT OF DEATH.— HEAVENLY SONG— PHANTASTES. 



THE KNIGHT OF DEATH. 

In a valley full of weirdest sounds, 

I saw a strange, strange sight. 
For the guardian of its solemn bounds, 

Was a mail-accoutered knight. 

A shield he bare in one steel-gloved palm, 

And thereon a shining cross ; 
He sate upon his charger calm. 

While beneath him all was moss. 

He held a lance in the other hand, 
And it was both sharp and bria'ht ; 

Though at first I could not understand 
Why his mail was dark as night. 

While a sti'eamy flow of raven plumes 

Was upon his casque's crest; 
And all bestrown with silver grumes, 

Like the dew of a night's uni'est. 

He grasped his steed by the bridle-bit. 
With the hand that held the lance ; 

And I could not but observe, by sit, 
How pale was his countenance. 

A most weird face did I surely see. 
Through the space of the visor-bars ; 

For his face was pale as pale could be. 
While his eyes they shone like stars. 

I looked again on the silent Knight, 

And upon his ebon steed : 
With a breast part panged by a dreadful 
fright. 

And a heart most like to bleed. 

"Sir, art thou one who has fought for 
Christ?" 
I asked, with a tremulous breath. 
"Perchance,' he spake; "Thou hast well 
surmised. 
For I am the Knight of Death." 



THE HEAVENLY SONG. 

There's a song which alas! no immortal 
poet sings. 
Though it is in the Universe ; 
For they say even the sound of its echo 
brings 
Unto man a most terrible curse. 

Ere the brightest of angels in yonder 

Heaven fell 

Had the symphony often been heard ; 

But alas ! since he now hath become Prince 

of Hell, 

He is cursed who will sing but a word. 



If the legions that throng in fire-torments 
thei'e wuthin. 
Sing the song as of yore none may know ; 
For the blight which on man fell because 
of his sin 
Must have fallen on the fallen there 
below. 

Let the song still remain in oblivion as 
before, 
For the Book hath been closed in Para- 
dise ; 
Though the seraphs who remember all the 
glory of its lore, 
Maj'^ repeat parr, its choral in their sighs ! 



PHANTASTES. 

All the beautiful flowers 

Are fairy-palaces ; 
Who pass their frolicking hours 

In these blossoming chalices. 

And one stands at the portal, 

Watching for any comer ; 
For at the approach of a mortal. 

They vanish like clouds in Summer. 

All the trees in the forest, 

All the silvery rivers ; 
May be some one thou adorest. 

May be arrows from God's quivers. 

Even the breath that pervadeth 

All things, itself is living; 
For He who all things madeth 

Knew the gift he was giving. 

Lay me on cjld mosses. 
Near the flowers of the fairies; 

For only Life's gains, no losses, 
Are in their sanctuaries. 

Lay me amidst the forest, 

Wtiere the trees grow up in numbers. 
As the need of my soul is sorest 

For such solitudine-slumbers. 

Lay me near the rivei's. 

Where they murmur, O so sweetly! 
While the sun's bright radiance quivers 

On their crystal face completely. 

Let me breathe of the ether 
By God's own breath pervaded ; 

And I shall reck not whether 
All the dreams of youth be faded. 



SONG.— A LIVIXG LIE.— PERHAPS.— PHANTOM SHIP. 55 



SONG. 

O let me take j'oiir hand, dear, 
O let me take your hand ; 

And you may imderstand, dear, 
And you may understand. 

That I am but Love's vassal, love. 
And Love he doth command. 



ip, d 
lip, 



O let me kiss your up, 
In sweetest fellowship, dear. 

In sweetest fellowship; 
And we will sip together, sweet. 

The sweets so sweet to sip, 

O let me plight my troth dear, 

O let me plight my troth ; 
And let me plight for both, dear. 

And let me plight for both ; 
See Hymen stands, to join our hands, 

And you may not be loth. 



A LIVIXG LIE. 

The softest tones of the flame-winged Love 

May turn to those of anger; 
As in time of peace, in the skies above. 

Men have heard fierce Battle's clangor. 

Show me a brand that being burnt 

Becometh not an ember. 
And perchance by then I shall have learnt 

To forget thee, not remember. 

For if I plucked my whole heart out. 

And laid it down before thee, 
Thou wouldst say I only had part out. 

And that I do not adore thee. 

And if I plucked from my heart a thorn. 
Through which your scorn had pained 
me; 
Thou wouldst answer still with bitterest 
scorn, 
*"Twas well a thorn remained me." 

And if I plucked from the thorn its sting. 

The very thorn that stung me. 
Thou wouldst only laugh, and laughingly 
sing 

The siren-song you sung me. 

O show me a soul that lives in triirh 
And to tears shall turn my laughter ; 

And I shall stab deep in my heart of 
youth. 
So that Pity's drops w^ell after. 



O show me a maid that being fair 

Is not both false and cruel ; 
And I'll pray to God to wing her there, 

For she is no earthly jewel. 

O show me a love outlasting mine, 

And yet so quickly dying; 
Nay, no answer from those lips of thine. 

For even now thy soul is lying ! 



PERHAPS. 

The son of the morning had risen. 

And his rays pierced the Ocean's heart ; 
While the birds which no cage could prison 

Were trilling their songs apart. 

And the petals were burst asunder. 
Of the blossoms upon their stems ; 

While many were bowing under 
The pearly-bright, sparkling dew-gems. 

While the river that ever passes. 
Seemed murmuring still more sweet ; 

Through the forests and morasses 
Through the flowers beneath my feet. 

Perhaps by being together 

In tne full flush of the dawn. 
We scarcely noticed whether 

Daisies blossomed upon the lawn. 

Perhaps by both replying 

To what each other said. 
We heard no swallows flying 

In the sun-light overhead. 

Perhaps by fondly gazing 
At each other's gladdening eyes, 

We saw no fleece-flocks grazing 
In the grass in its Summer rise. 

Perhaps by then entwining 

Ourselves in a sweet emorace, 
We noted not the shining 

Sunbeams upon our face. 

And perhaps by gladly kissing 
Our lips and our souls so much, 

We saw not we were missing 
The pathway that led to such. 



THE PHANTOM SHIP. 

There is a phantom-ship doth skim 
The dancing billows laughing. 

When Phoebus at the Ocean's rim 
His blood-red draught is quailing. 



56 



NAMELESS. 



To roiind the stormy Cai^e Good Hope 
'Tis doomed to strive forever ; 

With sails aatiint, and strain of rope, 
To answer the endeavor. 

Its crew is pale, they trnmpet-hail 
Each speeding: ship that passeth. 

In calm or storm, the Captain's form 
On deck his crew amasseth. 

The ship is white as snow at ni^ht. 
Its sails threadbare and j^hostly. 

Its hull seems torn with lightning-scorn, 
Or thunder-stricken mostly . 

Its rudder needs no pilot's hand. 
Its bow-sprit looks in splinters. 

'Tis blighted as a desert-land 
Beneath the blight of Winters. 

When once 'tis seen, it fills with teen 

"^rhe bosom haunted lastly. 
For wiio that met, could once forget 

A phanton-ship so ghastly. 

The frightful faces of the crew. 
When 'midst the ocean's fury. 

Are colored yellow, green, and blue. 
Like Judas' face at Jewry. 

A skeleton upon the main 

It is, of things departed. 
Or like a living form of pain. 

Blight- withered, anguish-hearted. 

The vengeance of a mighty curse 

Doth seem to follow after. 
While every wave is heard to rave. 

And mocking it with laughter. 

The slimy-weeded rocks and reefs. 

The raging billows under. 
Have branded it with fearful griefs. 

And rent it near asunder. 

The sharks have crunched its rotted sides 
The worms are on its flooring 

While all the flowing, ebbing tides, 
Within its frame are pouring. 

And yet it skims the ocean-deep 

As lightly as a swallow. 
No hope, no haven, rest or sleep. 

Can such a vengeance follow. 

Forevermore 'tis doomed to sail 

The waters of the ocean. 
Nor reefs, nor rocks, nor storms or gale. 

Can ever stay its motion. 

Until upon the Judgment Day, 
When all souls come together. 

It finally shall make its way 
In spite of wind and weather. 



NAMELESS. 

Who listens the musical footsteps of the 

winging hours of Time. 
In the flush of a golden sunshine, in the 

dream of a beautiful clime ? 



Is there ioy in a life of glory, is there joy 

in a life of truth ? 
For the spirit athirst with rapture, the 

hymeneal chant of youth? 

When the star-sown banner of Evening in 

the infinite space unfurled. 
Gives sign of a victory glorious, she has 

conquered a sleeping world. 

When the flame-filled Palace of Morning 
is refulgently bright with rays. 

For the sign of a glorious future, for the 
hope of eternal days. 

And the murmuring river respondeth to 

the Ocean's ebb and flow. 
As our hearts when throbbed divinely sets 

our passionate frame aglow. 

O the life of a restless spirit on Time's flow- 
ing etei-nal tide, 

A passionate soul despondent for the mad- 
ness that conquers pride. 

O the sword of the bright archangel glit- 
tering in a dazzling sun. 

The wreath of the laurel faded, the immor- 
tal glory unwon. 

The undying despair that lingers, the eter- 
nal delight of things, 

From the palm in its fullest blossom, to 
the song of the bird that sings. 

The resplendent, supreme devotion that is 

felt for a spirit clad 
In the innocence of beauty, in the beauty 

that drives us mad. 



And the ecstacy and rapture of the 

heavenly kiss of love. 
That consumes our hearts with passion as 

the sun consumes above. 

Ceaseless ebbing, ceaseless flowing, but the 

hours bring joy the same ; 
There is lustre in her bright eyes, there is 

beauty in her frame. 

There is blissfulness around her and upon 

her everywhere ; 
A.S the air is filled with sunbeams, as the 

sunbeams fill the air. 



DEATH'S KISS.— TO 



God, were my soul a chalice and brimming 

with nectar-wine, 
I would quaff it to the being whom my 

passion called divine. 

God, were my heart more bodily, I would 

clasp it in my hand. 
And make it a slave before her, to obey 

but her command. 

God, were myself as supple as the pulp of 

a living fruit. 
She should mould me howsoever were her 

will most absolute. 

Who listens the musical footsteps of the 

winging hours of Time 
When he lives in a life that maddens, till it 

maddens his soul to rhyme? 

And he feels his spirit awaken, as the 

Universe wakens at morn. 
And he treads on a world of sorrow, and 

he scorns at a world of scoi n. 

All because of the soul within him that 

immortally doth aspire 
For the love of a beautiful woman, for the 

melody of the lyre. 

For the key of the blinding treasures in 

the mystical vault of Life, 
For the smile of a soul above him, for the 

peace of a terrible strife. 

For the wisdom supreme, supernal and 

eterne on eternal things. 
O God, do you wonder the spirit you gave 

me aspireth and sings ! 



"With these clasps of the myrtle I buckle 
Fair blossoms uf Hope on my breast; 

And thereround columbine, honeysuckle. 
And roses which I love the best."' 

She culled near a brook all the daisies. 

Lilies, primrose, anemone, 
And there where the sun s brilliant haze is. 

The fairest flowers that be. 

The pansy, the tulip, the crocus, ' 
The acacia, the meadow-sweet too ; 

And a fragrant Peru-heliotropus, 
And a branch of the olive and rue. 

Marigold, marjorum, orange-flowers. 

Lilac, peony, sweet-violet ; 
Periwinkles for Memory's houi's, 

Forget-me-nots for those who forget. 

And then with a sigh as of sorrow, 
I heard her most plaintively say ; 

*' Will there not come a morrow and mor- 
row, 
When there came yesterday and to-day ?" 

While when Death thus beheld her adorn- 
ing 

Her sweet self with her pink finger-tips.; 
He passionately kissed her that morning. 

And the kiss still remains on her lips ! 



DEATH'S KISS. 

Life one beautiful morning. 
As frail as a Summer' breath. 

Her beautiful self was adorning 
Witu the innocent flowers of Death. 

" Here flowers there are for caring;" 
She said with a hallowed smile, 

"Here others for forbearing 
The deepest sorrows awhile." 

" And some with the bitter awaking 
That comes with the loss of a heart. 

And some for a farewell forsaking. 
When they who are dearest must part. 

"Shall I wreath me a wreath of the clover 
Shall I weave me a chaplet of vine? 

When alas! all the love that is over 
Was ere Death was a lover of mine. 



TO 



I wonder if you'll love me yet 
When you forget, and I forget. 
That we have ever met ? 

I wonder if a bitter dart 

Will pierce with pain your little heart, 

Because we had to part? 

I wonder if a little thought 

A thought of me— a wanton nought — 

Will make you think of ought ? 

Ah, even thus, and even so, 

I knew you would forget me. No. 

Though life be but a throw. 

A little light, a little cheer, 
A little joy, a little fear, 
O how you cost me dear ! 

Well go thy way, I shall go mine ; 
Well go my way, I shall go thine. 
For still the sun will shine. 

And yet I thought— the thought be ciirst- 
My love was not an empty thirst; 
My bubbles would not burst. 



58 



LIFE.— HOURS AND DAYS.— TIME'S SPEED. 



And yet I thought— acvirse the though t- 
Wc were but for each other wrought, 
But phantasies are nought, 

A little love, a little fond, 

A little heart that could respond. 

Yea, is there a beyond ? 

A little life a little past. 

A little pang of grief at last ; 

Live on the life thou hast. 

And I shall live and I shall die. 
And I shall heave a little sigh, 
'Neath little spots of sky. 

So shall I live because my birth 
Hath happened on this space of earth. 
What else could I unearth? 

Go on. Perchance the Universe 
Could better be or could be woise, 
I am not fain to curse. 

Go on. Perchance there is a clime 
Where souls forget to think of time ; 
Go live your life of crime ! 



LIFE. 



Hope lit its torch at Life's refulgent pyre. 

Whose minister was Youth. 
Joy lit its torch with passionate desire. 

And also Fame and Truth. 

Love lit its torch at Life's refulgent shrine, 

Whose minister was Death. 
Love in itself immortal aud divine. 

As Christ at Nazareth. 

But Hope, and Joy, and Fame, and Truth, 
and Love. 
Though far their symbols flamed ; 
Found when they entered in the realms 
above. 
That they were all misnamed. 

Yet Youth the minister at Life's fairshrine, 

And Death the minister. 
Find hers the beauty which is most divine, 

For life is truly fair. 



HOURS AND DAYS. 

The murmuring rivers. 
Are symbol of hours ; 

Those frailest of givers. 
For sunshine and showers. 



The waves of the ocean 
Now ebbing, now flowing. 

Seem the ceaseless motion 
Of days coming and going. 

One flows to the other 

With swiftness and gladness; 
Yet fioweth another 

With slowness and sadness. 

Each seemeth fulfilling 

A life's divination ; 
Each seemingly thrilling 

Within their creation. 

The rivers and oceans. 
To-days and to-morrows, 

A world of emotions; 
Its joys and its sorrows. 

Within us too fioweth. 
If so the heart hearkens. 

A spirit that knoweth 
Who lightens and darkens. 

A being doth number 
Its .ioy and its sorrow, 

And"says,"So thy slumber 
Shall come with the m rrow. 

For only Death givest 
The morrow that cometh; 

And then thou that livest. 
Thy sorrows He summeth. 



TIME'S SPEED. 

O my God, how Time speeds by! 
Yet we live and yet we die. 
It is an eternal thought. 
Full of Wisdom, full of nought. 
Full of sadness, full of truth. 
Full of sorrow and of ruth. 

O my God, how many tears 

Have been shed in many years. 

By the heart that lived in scorn. 

By the heart that lived to mourn; 

By the soul that ever found 

Joy was dead, and Woe was crowned. 

O my God, how many sighs 
Have been wafted to the skies. 
We were young so long ago! 
We were happy, maybe so! 
We were loving, since we yearned 
For a love that was returned. 



BUDDHA'S PRIEST. 



59 



If I clasp the golden sand 
Still it filters through my hand; 
If I drink tlie cloud-sent drops. 
Still it rains and never stops. 
And I find that I have bowed 
To the shadow of a shroud. 

O my (rod how time speeds by! 

For this ever living "I." 

Not for the eternal soul. 

In Eternity's control. 

But for "I" who have to live 

All the days that Life doth give. 



BUDDHAS PRIEST. 

By the sanction of Buddha— so let it be 
read — 
Do I habit this temple most solemnly 
still. 
Who saith that the prophet is buried and 
dead. 
When a nation of millions thus bows to 
his will? 

Hither pilgrims have come from Jeru- 
salem, 
From India, or Africa, and many else- 
where; 
Or to worship his tooth, or his garment's- 
silk-hem. 
Which of these did adorn Buddha's body 
when bare ? 

Yet herein have I passed all the life of 
those days. 
Which are life as it is, but no life if you 
will. 
Pondering over Chaos and Universe sways. 
And confounding myself and my reason- 
ing still. 

For wherever I turn, howsoever I turn, 
Through the visible sense do I know 
what I see. 
Yet no more? Scarcely more I may say ; 
though I yearn. 
And the center of all things be centered 
in He. 

He who is, as they say, Buddha's self could 
but preach 
That he was. When or whj', how or 
where, matters not. 
But He is ]Most infinite in power or reach. 
Almighty ! howsoever conceived or 
begot. 



Not that I doubt. He forbid that I should. 

But like Him I am not as infinite in thought. 

But the things which I see, through the 

sense undei stood. 
Do I worship the most ; of the rest reck I 

naught. 

Surely, God who beholds by His infinite 
sight. 
Everything, everywhere; as supernally 
sees. 
That man is in himself but a shadow of 
night. 
Or a shadow of day ; or a leaf on Life's 
trees ! 

And as He represents the Creator of man. 

He must link, like and like, worth and 

worth, use and use. 

I have come to consider these things on a 

plan. 

Quite apart from philosophy, ever diffuse. 

Cloud s are masks, skies are masks, earths 
are masks for the truth ; 
Suns themselves scarce a spark in the 
infinite void. 
Man a spectre that foldeth the spirit of 
youth. 
A spirit that ever remains unalloyed. 

His organ, the Universe, antheming forth 
Sphere-tones, grand, sublime, in octaves 
and octaves, 
Like the hugeness and roar of the waves of 
the North. 
To the sweetness and softness of rivulet 
waves. 

Comprehend we the march of that monarch 
called Time? 
Comprehend we the Universe, rolling 
along? 
Majestiacl, beautiful, glorious, sublime. 
Antheming forth this Eternity's song ! 

We who think that we are, are we really 
alive ? 
What is Life ? Who knows Life, if he 
live but in this ? 
There are priests, who are priests for the 
sins that they shrive, 
I give promise at once of transcendental 
bliss. 

Yet a mortal am I, both in form and in 
name, 
Joy-imbued, Grief-imbued, Hate-imbued, 
Love-imbued. 
God's minister am I, the vocation I claim. 
For what priesthood can say, I have God 
understood. 



DIANA. 



God Himself, the Creator, Supreme and 
Divine, 
By man comprehended? Alas! for the 
boast. 
I that worship his Being have worship for 
mine. 
Since no God tells me which I do wor- 
ship the most. 

Greed of gold, creed of old ; what a cursed 
difference. 
Yet these are represented alike for a God. 
Buddh^• 1 No. He at least was a god in 
his sense. 
Like Mahomet divine, by the sword and 
the rod. 

Other prophets existed, divine in their soul. 
Self-deniant, convulsing their frames in 
the throe. 
That comes when the spirit exerts its con- 
trol. 
Yet religions are not revelations below. 

Well, perhaps it is best for the rule of the 
great. 
Who bow not, less they find it is worthy 
to bow; 
Kiss the dust ! Man e'en thus doth himself 
elevate. 
This was known many ages ago— even 
now ! 



DIANA. 



Thou was the buskined wanderer of old ! 

Haunting eKcli sylvan-grotto's shade recess. 

And with thy pliant bow and lovely mould 

A thing of beauty. Would we could ex- 
press 

In few, sweet music- words of poesy 

Thy merry strayings 'midst the balmy 
vales 

Of sacred Temne. Or could look on thee 

Before thy train of Oceanides, 

And nymphs of tenderness; when at thy 
call 

They swift assembled for the joyous chase. 

And thou, with kirtled garment, through 
the trees 

In queenly stateliness didst lead them all. 

But what have we to do in such a place 

With thee, Diana, and thy Dryad-tales? 

Where was thy covet-chambers? Midst 
the bells 

And blossoms chance, of flowers steeped 
in dew ? 

When every Zephyr on its perfume-swells 

Winged a sweet message to thy hunter- 
crew. 



O sylvan Goddess, not the Godlihead 
On high Olympus knew thy liberty ! 
Thy forest reign ! Thy monarchy of air ! 
How happy were the Satyrs seeing thee 
Pass fleetly by them, with thy shoulders 

bare 
In creamy dimples; and thy drooping hem 
Scarce shading flanks of beauty. Then 

they sjjake 
In that quaint language only known to 

them. 
Yet not unknown to thee, who often led 
Thy sprightly followers through every 

brake. 

Perchance thoii didst on many glowing 

nights. 
Reclining soft upon the pearly grass. 
Gaze wonder-eyed at heaven's flaming 

lights ; 
Or waited long to see pale Luna pass 
Above in fairest sorrow. Or have left 
Thy myrtle-couch perchance, and chided 

low 
Some cloven-footed Fawn, full bent on 

theft ; 
Kiss-theft from some asleep-Nymph's mar- 
ble brow. 
Or thou hast mirrored thy fair contenence 
In some clear lake, or fountain gushing 

waters. 
Who knows what thou didst do? We can- 
not tell. 
Except in thought-conjecture or in trance 
Of other days, when deepest musings 

dwell 
Upon thy forest-nymphs and Neptime- 
daughters. 

Away! away! the ever lingering thought. 
The rainbow, seven-arched, is beautiful ; 
And yet on airy nothing is it wrought. 
So vainly do we now attempt to cull 
One blushing flower-wreath from such a 

waste. 
To fancy once again Diana's sh^pe, 
Diana's sweet, the goddess ever chaste. 
Yea in attempting doth it give us pain ! 
For never can we for a moment drape 
Our thoughts in beauty half sufficient 
To speak of such a one. It is in vain ! 
O rather let the sparkling dew be blent 
In one full sorrow-plaint and ever weep. 
That tearfully our memory may sleep. 

And wherefore sleep, since beauty is not 

born 
With every winging moment? Let us then 
Adore the beauty of that ancient morn. 
O loveliness no more for earth or men ! 
High marble-brow, whereon no golden 

tress 
Did dare repose, but showered unconflned 
Over unspotted shoulders. Rose bloom 

lips, 



SISTER.— LIFE'S BLISS.— WHAT ARE WE ? 



Gl 



Which never mortal one did hve to press. 
And dark-fringed glorious eyes; Or bosom 

shrined 
Like lillies among temples. So was she 
The olden Huntress. Not in dainty trips, 
Like some young virgin full of thought- 
less glee, 
Dancing along. But full majestical, 
A goddess-queen in Nature's boundless 
hall ! 



SISTER. 



While she lay in death-like slumber, 

Did I press upon her lips. 
More than Cupid can outnumber. 

Kisses sweet as honey-sips; 
Gently, so they would not cumber 

Her pearl-parted, coral-lips. 

While she slumbered, maybe dreaming. 

Did I linger by her side. 
Like a phantom-spirit seeming. 

Yet a being sorrow-eyed ; 
Lingered there, my bosom teeming 

With a love intensified. 

Gent)y, so she would not waken 
From her marble-postured trance ; 

Gently were those kisses taken 
From her tender countenance. 

Gently, while my breast was shaken. 
When ner face I eyed askance. 

Who was she, you ask? A sister, 
With the dawning of the rose 

On the spots where I had kissed her. 
On her cheeks, and lips, and brows. 

Death had passed, and only missed her 
By Almighty interpose. 



LIFE'S BLISS, 

Life has been with us a bliss. 

Since my worship was avowed 
And we sealed it with a kiss. 
Not by virtue disallowed. 

For the passion of my heart. 
And the passion of thy own ; 

Shall be something quite apart 
From a nameless thing alone. 

Something quite apart for us. 
To be cherished and be prized ; 

Since existence only thus 
Can be truly realized. 



Spirits unto spirits tend. 

And my own communes with thine. 
In Love's incense, which we blend 

On a holy altar-shrine. 

In an essence which perfumes, 
A.11 the chambers of our sense ; 

Like the fragrant odor-blooms 
Rose and violet dispense. 

And thus folded in the fold. 

Of our e irthly happiness ; 
L fe shall glow with tints of gold. 

Life shall be a perfect bliss. 

And thus blended in the bliss. 
Which our rapture-souls will bring 

We'll forget the truth of this. 
That in life is sorrowing. 



WHAT ARE WE? 

What are we all ? we often ask ourselves ; 
In those deep moments when our 
thoughts have wings. 
For all in vain the mind profoundly 
delves. 
Into the causes and results of things ! 

What are we then? Some say a pendulum 
Twixtjoy and sorrow; 'twixt a snule 
and tear. 

But is this true ? Aye it is true of some, 
Who find no glory in existing here. 

But is this all ? Is there no higher duty, 
I Than so to live, and living, yearn to die? 
No life external, no ideal beauty ; 
No other wishes but to weep or sigh ? 

But is this all ? Shall man be aye beguiling 
His thous^hts with madness and his soul 
with grief? 
His intellect knows naught, but gloom-ex- 
iling. 
From the eterne and effulgent belief? 

No, 'tis not all. For man grows nobler, better 

If egotistic he becometh less. 
And is soul-thankful, being the begetter 

Of Nature's glory and her loveliness? 

N o, 'tis not all. For there is thought ascend- 
ing. 
To the pure regions of the high sublime; 
A.nd noble faith, and purposes unending 
Which shall not perish with the wrecks 
of time. 

No, 'tis not all. Aye, there is more remain- 
ing. 

More laurels woven for the brow of youth. 
Then misanthropos be not so disdaining. 

Nor scorn existence, virtue, beauty, truth. 



62 



THE SMILES.-CUPIDO.— TO BE. 



THE SMILES. 

The smiles that were gladness. 

The eyes which were bright ; 
Being gone, tu'U to sadness 

My bosom's delight. 
The soul ever tender. 

The love ever true. 
Have ceased now to render, 

The joy which I knew. 

As fair as the flowers. 

Which bloom in the May ; 
As pure as dew showers. 

At dawn of the day ; 
Was this gentle spirit. 

For whom my heart weeps. 
I lived, livinsr near it, 

And die while she sleeps. 

The lute-chord is broken. 

The sweets of her voice ; 
The words which were spoken, 

Still make me rejoice. 
Remembrance will cherish. 

Her grace to the last. 
For nothing doth perish. 

Which Love shrineth fast. 



CUPIDO. 



Love doth know no time of day. 
And its seasons are all May; 
And no night that is not bright 
From the gladness of delight. 

On the frailest dew of morn. 
Can Love's happiness be borne; 
And its sorrow is as brief 
As an Autumn fading leaf. 

It is as a star to guide 
Our life-galley far ana wide; 
It is as a beam to show 
All the loveliness we know. 

'Tis the poet's mighty meed; 
'Tis the champion's strength, indeed; 
'Tis the virgin's only guile. 
Nestling 'neath her rosy smile. 

'Tis the blissful recompense 
Of all sorrowing of sense; 
'Tis the crowning crown of all 
Ecstacy that canenihraii. 

Love that lives can never die- 
Love forever being nigh; 
Being nigh in light of thought. 
Like a god immortal wrought. 



Quaffing of its nectar-fount. 
We can joyfully surmount 
Every mortal pain and ill; 
Till we have our rapture-till. 

Love doth make us feel as gay 
As a swallow in is Mny; 
Therefore Tripping in a ring. 
Maidens all, his praises sing. 



TO BE. 



What Greece was in the olden time, what 
Rome 
Became in after days; what; England, 
France, 
Now boast to be beneath the azure dome. 
By glory and by Freedom in advance. 
Of all existing nations — shalt not thou, 

America, outshine them air?^; With pride 
Point to the laurels blooming on thy brow. 
And say to such a world: ** These are 
beside 
The ones that are not faded, but are shorn 
Of part their youthful beauty. And the 
rest 
Which I have wreathed, but are never 
worn. 
Are not because by Liberty unblessed 
I scorn to wear them. No. as God forbid! 

But only one I ask to wear, to show 
By other nations I will not be chid 
For wearing many garlands on my brow." 

Men never knew, that in the Avestern climes, 
A continent would bloom in beauty forth ; 
And would outglory all the ancient times 
For loveliness and grandeur. That her 
worth 
Would not be wrested from the living 
hands 
Of other populations ; but her own 
And on her own free soil would rive the 
bands 
By which to gain her Freedom. When 
the tone 
Of Liberty awoke her to the deed. 
By the arising of the patriarchs, 
Who lived for her. and who for her did 
bleed. 
For could this race which once had dared 
in barks 
Of frailest kind to cross an unknown sea, 

Now battling for its Liberty have fear? 
No, beauteous Country ! No, it fought for 
thee. 
And died for thee, to give thee Freedom 
here. 



CALIFORNIA. 



63 



And from the East, unto the farthest west, 
Thou sprcadest fair dominions. With 
the roar 
Of two grand oceans nursing at thy breast, 
Andallthe world upon each distant shore, 
And from the f]ast, unto tlie golden NVest, 
Thy sons have formed one freedom broth- 
erhood. 
And would arouse again at thy behest. 

As they once done who tyranny withstood 
Like a young Goddess of the fairy days, 
Men now behold thee in thy budding 
youth ; 
And see thee beautiful; until their praise 
Can scarcely do their own avowals truth. 
For thy fair plant of Libei-ty hath bloomed. 
Which was once Avatered by thy sorrow 
tears ; 
And many hearts— aye, million hearts 
perfumed. 
Who watched it growing ihrough those 
darker years. 

Alas! O Greece ! Alas ! fair Italy— 
My mother earth ! Alas ! O England, 
France, 
Thou wast this young earth's guardian, 
but to thee 
She doth not owe her glory and advance, 
She hath her own embodiment of Avorth, 
Her poets and her sages too the same ; 
And hero-men she had to bless her birth, 
And make her glorv not alone a name. 
She hath her own mind-liberty and 
strength, 
And she is young, as she is fair and 
strong ; 
And though these now be nothing, they at 
length 
Will elevate her far above thy throng. 
I see her now in fancy as she yet 

Will be to all the nations of the world; 
Though ere the reigning monarchies were 
set. 
Her flag of Liberty became unfurled. 



C A.LIFORXIA. 

Oft have I sung of Spring and Summer's 

smile. 
Of mellow Autumn and of Winter eld ; 
Trancing myself in deeming thus awhile. 
Such loveliness as th;s my soul beheld. 
And yet wny chide fair Fancy when she 

throws 
A diapasm over all our woes. 
For it was sweet, aye, it was blessed 

sweet. 
This vision-consciousness of having seen 
The brawling brooks, that gently flow to 

greet 
The twining branches and the buds which 

lean 



Their beauty over thon ; and often twine. 
As if to shade them from the golden shii e 
uf the warm sun thereon. To stray at 

morn 
Through fragrant bowers of the white 

hawthorn. 
And asphodel and amaranth ever fair ; 
Of violet with c loi-ing sky-boin ; 
Or pink and daisies with their yellow hair. 
Or breathe the incense of the englantine 
Of the sweet clover or the herbage wild. 
Or pluck the primrose from its thornless 

vine. 
Or 'neath some willow lie at ease beguiled 
Into calm slumbers, by the bees at work 
In honey-siuping ; while the linnet's call 
Aroused its mate when it did sliyly lurk 
Behind some cedar's leafj' screening-wall. 
How balmy too, to lie beneath some trees 
Fruit-prospering and fair, while fleecy 

herds 
Bleat their soft accents, and the fragrant 

breeze 
Mingles their voices with the song of 

birds. 
How soothing too the pipings clear and 

shrill 
Of thrashing flail, that fledge the new 

mown hay : 
Beneath the shadow of the sun -browned 

hill. 
When all the earth is dressed in verdure 

gay. 
Unwearying the beauty-seeking eye. 
Who here finds all things fair, and who 
I descries 

I In the wide fields and lawny meadows by ; 
I And in the cloudless overarching skies, 
I The loveliness and dewiness of Spring. 
I O, clime that knows no winter ! blossom- 
land 
Of Nature's sweets beyond imagining; 
For Nature hei'e doth shed with Javish hand 
Her fairest fruitage and her fairest flowers ; 
More golden mornings, and more golden 

hours 
Of Summer splendor. Yes, the radiant 

blessing 
Of a'l her favors is beyond the guessing 
Of some far-straying pilgrim, who beholdeth 
\Vhat beauty this, our balmy clime enfoldeth 
Like to some rosy and enchanting maiden. 
Whom lovely fairies have with flowers 

laden ; 
And mellow fruits which then they heaped 

around her. 
And fragrant garlands with the which they 

crowned her. 
Like beauteous Ceres in her youth behold- 
en. 
Crowned with fair wreaths and grain for- 
ever go' den. 
Ah, California, Nature cannot render 
More beauty unto thee, more blooming 
splendor, 



64 



ODE.— DEAD CUPID. 



Fairest of climes, thou art in truest seeminj^, 
With charms graced more, and with more 

radiance teeming. 
Than fiiir Arcadias, men behold in dream- 
ing. 



ODE. 



Mount of Olympus, heaven-touching throne 

Of the old Hierarchy, godly seat 

Of mighty Jupiter, whose thunder-tone 

Of t echoed o'er earth; alas! alas! 

Art thou now lonely to the pilgrim feet 

That wander hitherward ? Art desolate 

To festival and music? that we now 

Pass silently beneath thee, through the 

grass. 
Which still is green and dewy at thy base. 
Where are the goddesses, the goddess-mate, 
Of the thunder-god? The grotto-place— 
The sacred groves of olden Thcssaly? 
Where sweet Apollo tuned his melody, 
Forsaken all, sun-kissed alone art thou. 

Where is Jove's temple? Are these collon- 

ades 
The fallen semblance of his splendid fane? 
Where is bis oracle? where virgin maids 
Once offered incense sweet for sacrifice. 
Where is his golden throne? His studded 

seat. 
With silver, ivory, and ebony lain? 
His sceptre, and his eagle messenger? 
His olive-crowns, his thunderbolts of air? 
This is his temple then? This must suffice 
The glory-gloating soul, whose pilgrimage 
Hath brought him over seas of blue extent. 
What have we here? The pine and cedar 

scent. 
The towering forests, in whose still boscage 
There wander now no Nymph nor Dryad 

fleet. 

O. would that tears of sorrow could recall 
Their Hierarchy. Though Jupiter did wrest 
His lofty power from the Titan race. 
The mighty was the mightiest; 'twas best 
The olden giants of the world should fall. 
Who were near kin to mountains in their 

height. 
Yet now the conqueror hath left his place 
And all is desolate. No more, no more. 
Olympus or Parnassus, will ye know 
Or Jupiter or Muses, with their lore 
Of divine ecstacy. O woeful sight ! 
Nor Thessaly nor Tempe can acqxiaint 
The coming years that it was even so. 
Except perchance some pilgrim's poet's 

plaint. 

'Tis but a dewy dream of olden time ! 
No more shall Jupiter or Juno reign. 
Or high Minerva, born in beauty-clime, 



Her golden dress put on; her glittering 

crest; 
Her golden breast-plate, and her helmet 

gold. 
Or Venus for Adonis weep in pain. 
Nor Vulcan forge his thunderbolts of old; 
Nor Iris wing her way from cloud to cloud, 
Bearing the messages of Jupiter. 
Nor Hebe, who for aye was disallowed 
To fill the massive bowls with nectar there. 
Be seen on Mount Olympus more. For 

now. 
Alas ! alas ! it is too manifest 
That Time hath torn one chaplet from his 

brow. 



DEAD CUPID. 

Virgins, let thy tears be shed, 
Gentle Ctipid sweet is dead. 
Though he was not Venus's boy. 
Yet was he as merry elf 
As sweet Psyche's bosom-joj% 
Ever was himself. 

Fold round him his moveless wings, 
( 'olored with all radiant things; 
Lay aside his bow and dart. 
Useless now for evermore. 
Love and Life again must part, 
As they have before. 

Chant for him a Hermes psalm; 
And his cherub frame embalm 
With Arabia's purest spice- 
Hither brought in jars of gold. 
Virgins do thy sacrifice. 
Round his silent mould. 

Azure-e.yed and rosy -lipped. 
Scare had he the sweetness sipped 
Of the nectar-stream of Time, 
Ere a chilling wind which blew. 
Withered in his blooming prime 
This boy-beauty new. 

Never any dwelt with him. 
Less their soul did overbrim 
With pure rapture and with bliss. 
Golden-haired and always gay. 
In his smiling loveliness, 
Yet he passed away. 

Virgins, a few roses strow, 

Over his fair frame below; 

Come here often and bedew 

These young flowers with thv tears; 

He had been a joy to you. 

In a few short years. 



VENX^S.— A DREAM. 



65 



Though we sometimes will beguile, 
Eveiy moment with a smile. 
Note how Cupid, in his youth. 
Soon did leave us sorrow here. 
Whisper softly, though with truth: 
" Yes, Death is drear." 



YENUS, 



Full golden-stringed the poet's lyre must be 

That tunes thy praise in song; 
And honey-like must flow the melody 

That does to thee belong. 
It must be bathed in the magic dew. 

Which in the hush of even. 
Drops slowly downward from the blue 

Of starry heaven. 
Else let him not attempt one cadence- 
strain. 
One symphony, for fear it my profane 
Thy loveliness, which none shall know 
again. 

O to peer on thee, as thou once of old 

Would languidly recline 
Beneath the massy arch that did uphold 

Thy viruin-woi'shipped shrine! 
To peer upon thee through the duskiness 

Of luscious branches blent 
Above ihee. As if shading thus 

Thy radiant languishment. 
Ah! truly we would want a music- 
rhyming 
Far sweeter than those spheres, in heaven 

climbing. 
Eternally through ether-space are chiming. 

Thou wast not as some frailer m inds do deem 

A spirit of the earth ; 
But a fair Goddess ; fairer than a dream 

To beauty can give birth ! 
Beautiful, ah ! beautiful indeed : 

With cheeks so rosy-white : 
And hair more golden yet than Ganymede, 

Could hoast of in delight. 
Limbs softly draped beneath their snowy 

veil. 
Lips ever breathing balm, which to exale 
Was bliss enough. And bosom marbly pale. 

O, lovely Goddess, may not now a plaint 

Still praise thee high? 
Although the spirit languid grow, and 
faint, 
Deeming thee nigh. 
What wonder thuu wast worshipped, love- 
liest 
Among the goddesses. 
Since from thy beauty-dawning, all the 
rest 
Were lovely less. 
Since on thy chariot from the ocean rising, 
Thou wast a beauty beyond realizing, 
Enchantiugly and radiantly surprising. 



A DREAM. 

I had a dream last night; O radiant dream. 
Unraveled yet so beautiful ! If that again 
It will my nightly slumber haunt, then 

would I deem 
'Tis some forewarner of a blissful reign. 
I dreamt, that as I trod a golden way, 
A flowery-fragrant and unending I'oad : 
Sunless, yet gloriously illumed by unseen 

light. 
Ten thousand fold more yet than our day 
Hath ever known— calm toward me there 

came 
A seeming inmate of that high-abode 
A lucid form, clad in a bright array 
Of snowy samite, was this spirit one, 
Who toward me thus drew, and spoke my 

name 
In accents musical ? I followed on. 
Some mystic power my young spirit led, 
Wherever beckoned his immortal hand. 
That gently clasoed a diamond-crested 

wand. 
W^hile starry pearls did crown his sacred 

head. 
Which midst that radiance were excessive 

bright. 
And had I not, by some potential will, 
Thuslj* been guided, my poor mortal sight 
Had long been dazzled, and were blinded 

still. 
So I did follow him, although I felt 
An overawing sense of my own taint : 
INIy mortal form did clod me and dispelt 
The sweet reality. My guiding saint. 
For so he seemed nought human could he 

be. 
Or thing of earth unto my humble eyes — 
Then led me through such visions, which 

to see. 
Revealed the glory there of Paradise ! 
Bright on each side rose palaces in neight. 
Beyond belief, of emerald and gold ; 
Whose walls enameled gleamed upon the 

sight. 
In dazzling brilliancy of tints untold. 
And ever and pnon some sacred psalm. 
By lips Cherubic chanted, tranced the air. 
As on our way we passed, my guardian 

calm. 
And I joy-thrilling 'neath the beauty there. 
On every side did bloom odorous trees. 
And fragrant plants, and flowers diamond- 
dewed ; 
And luscious fruits did glow in gentle ease 
Upon the branches there, all iris-hued. 
And then we stopped before a lofty arch 
Or purest agate formed, and twined around 
With leaves of golden-tissue; where did 

march 
Or rather wing above the sandalled ground 
Seraphic forms of purest lovliness. 
All azure-winged they were, all dawny 

haired. 



66 



SONG.— CHRISTMAS BELLS. 



All bloomy-lipped, too beautiful to guess. 
And through these then my angel-guide 

repaired ; 
St'll further on, unto a radiant place, 
Of endless height and infinitely wide. 
There other shapes of still more beauty- 
grace 
Did whisper harmony, when side by side. 
And I full-conscious of mortality. 
And of my grossness and my littleness. 
Did quest my guide ; '" O saint I ask of thee 
What means this mystery which is no 

less?" 
He answered nought, but left me wonder- 
ing 
And disapeared among the winging throng. 
When suddenly T heard them clearly sing. 
Of themes that but to Paradise belong, 
Andafter this, while still I wonderedmuch. 
And still ray mind was stirred by eager 

quest, 
I saw a maid— whose loveliness was such 
As cannot be descried— depart the rest. 
And toward me approach. Then I beheld 
It was thyself, thy own pure radiant form'. 
Who all by fair in beauty there excelled ! 
Thy lips were glowingly apart, thy cheeks 

seemed warm 
With heavenly rapture ; and a light. 
Near insupportable, was in thy eyes. 
Thy radiant locks with blazing gems were 

bright ; 
And thou wast smiling— as the sunny skies 
Of morn or noon-time, was that hallow 

smile. 
And then thou spake. And I could not do 

less 
Than listen to that melody awhile ; 
Those rapture-accents in their blissful 

stress. 
And since the more as bliss to me they 

brought, 
For so they said , " O blessed by One Su- 
preme, 
To thus behold the being of thy thought. 
The one thou worshippest in life, in dream ; 
Come clasp my spii'it in these realms above. 
Come kiss these lips with one immortal 

kiss; 
Come joy these charms, these charms of 

holy love ! 
My golden ringlets, and my cheeks caress, 
It may not be we evermore shall meet. 
It is denied to thee alas ! on earth : 
But thou in dreams shalt joy the rapture 

sweet. 
To recompense thee for thy waking 

dearth. 
So were thy arms outstretched for my em- 
brace ; 
So were thy lips oped buddingly for mine. 
When I awoke, alas ! to And no trace 
Of thy high beauty, of thy grace divine. 
I awoke alas ! O night of radiant dreams ! 
O dream which yet before my vision seems 



And yet tis said that dreams by contrast 

go, 
Alas ! for me if this one should be so. 
For that fair dream, or that sweet dream's 

reverse. 
Would bring more woe than I could well 

rehearse. 



SONG. 



Love me sadly. 
Love me gladly. 
Love me madly. 

If you will. 
And I ever. 
Will endeavor. 
To forever 

Love thee still. 

Pure and tender. 
Thou may est render 
Joyous splendor 

Unto me. 
And I ever 
Will endeavor 
To forever 

Worship thee. 

Love me truly. 
Sweetly, purely. 
Gently, surely. 

If you will. 
And I ever. 
Will endeavor 
To forever 

Love thee still. 

Passion-plighted, 
Not benighted. 
Soul-united 

Let us be; 
And I ever. 
Will endeavor 
To forever 

Worship thee. 



CHRISTMAS BELLS. 

The merry bells are ringing. 
The bells of Christmas morn. 

Thoughts sacred are they bringing 
Of the Messiah born. 

Ring slowly bells, ring slowly. 

Ring holy bells, ring hoiv. 
For tliis is Christmas morn ! 

This day His Son descended, 
From the Supreme above. 

And till his trials were ended. 
Here suffered for our love. 

Ring slowly bells, ring slowly. 

Ring holy bells, ring holy. 
For this is Christmas morn. 



THE RIVALS. 



67 



The sins men had committed 

By his divinest woe. 
Were now to be remitted. 

Upon tiiis sphere below. 
Ring slowly bells, ring slowly. 
Ring holy bells, ring holy. 

For this is Christmas morn ! 

And now His Holy Spirit 
Is sacred, throned abov^e ; 

With the Almighty near it, 
The Creator of Love ! 

Ring out thy accents airy 

O bells ! be merry, merry. 
This golden Christmas morn 



THE RIVALS. 

'Twas in Venice, at the night 
When its glorious festivals 
W^ere at fullest height of play. 
And each marble palace, bright 
Was from coUonades to halls. 
Thronging full of maskers gay. 
Gondolas in dancing pride. 
Gayly on the glittering tide. 
Gracefully from side to side 
Of each intersecting way. 
Like a spirit band did glide. 
Making night itself seem day. 

Though the Lion at St. Marks. 

Might have seen these floating barques. 

Yet as silently he stood. 

The Rialto did they pass, 

Like a moving swan-like mass; 

Past the pigmy liridge of Sighs, 

Spanning likewise such a flood 

Many a Ducal palace too, 

All seemed bent with even ties 

For one purpose or ado. 

And in one ablaze with flame - 
Ducal palace as I say. 
Thronged to-night vvith maskers gay- 
Was there a most beauteous dame. 
Noble both in form and name. 
With the purple of her dress. 
Vying with her loveliness ; 
With the swanness of her throat. 
Vying with her necklace gems, 
Which were ruby ; as to note 
Beauty in their diadems. 
Making her as seem ablaze 
With a million sparkling rays ; 
While a pearly-jeweled cross. 
Nestled midst her hair of gloss. 

Can it be such beauty rare. 

Was un wooed, un worshiped there ? 

No, two youths at manhood's age, 

And of princely lineage. 

Did aspire her heart and hand. 



If in silentness she scanned 

Both their features— if she marked. 

How in one the ardor sparked 

From his eyes; a btu-ning light 

Heralding his passion's might. 

NV'hie the other with a tone. 

Soft as melody can own. 

Wooed and pleaded for her favor. 

Gentle in his proud behavour, 

We know not. But oh, the grief ! 

For a women's frail belief 

In her heart, as it may be, 

For she smiled on both the same ; 

When we know a fleeting smile 

Is but bliss a simple whde. 

Bliss for lover-eyes to see ; 

Fleet as fleetingly it came. 

Blood is warm is Southern climes, 
More so in those knightly times ; 
When the unsheathing of a lance 
Rested on a slight perchance. 
When an anger-spoken word 
Lowly said, but scarcely heard, 
Brought about a difference, 
Or a bitterness intence. 
Betwixt two with sotil and sense. 

So it was that on this night. 
When all there was glory-bright— 
Maybe 'twas the sparkling wine 
Or too much of beauty-shine— 
That these two young princes met. 
Ah I see their meeting yet. 
At their radiant Cupid-shrine. 

Aye, my lady will you choose I 
Which to take or which refuse ? 
Take the fairest for his face ; 
Take the tallest for his grace. 
Take the youngest for his name ; 
Take the oldest for his fame. 
Take the youngest for his lands. 
Clustering curls, and lady -hands. 
Take the elder for his brow, 
L'pon which the pen of thought 
Delicately told enow. 
How to sternness it was wrought. 
O of course thy smile was meant 
To conceal thy true intent. 
In this harsh predicament. 

First a word and then a frown ; 
Then two hands swift reaching down 
For the swords upon their side ! 
Which they grasped in fiercest pride. 
It was done ere scarce begun. 
But friends thrust them from her side 
So they parted, till anon ! 

Paganini thou art dead ! 

And with thee thy music fled. 

Yet some lover with his lute. 

Rivalling thee absolute, 

( »ft had charmed his fair one's ears. 

O the love of manhood years ! 



68 



ADORATION.-TO 



It is still the essence warm, 
And the passion of oui" form ! 
So this night was music sweet, 
Wafted o'er each marbled street 
Of fair Venice ; where alone 
She is on her ocean-throne. 

Rivals for the hands of one ! 
No worse hatred 'neath the sun, 
*' Glittering rapiers let it be, 
On a gallery of the sea ; 
At the rising of the sun, 
Thine for me, or mine for thee !" 
So they said and so they done. 
For ere scarce the golden morn. 
In the azure skies was born ; 
Did they step wicn Hrmest pace 
On the swaying barge of Death ; 
And they siood there face to face, 
Breathing hatred in each breath. 

Rivals for the hand of one ! 

O how manhood is undone ! 

Both were skilled and both denied 

Pardoning, until they died. 

One the rapier in his heart! 

One his bosom torn apart ! 

Cold in all their mannood's pride. 

For a beauteous dame who laughed 

When she heard that they were dead. 

And that every instant quaffed 

Hemlock, till her life had fled. 

Nobly born, but sadly bred ! 



ADORATION. 

O God, who art thou that hast made me 
deem 
In the pure ecstacy of passionate 
thought. 
Our life not all a woe, nor bliss a dream. 

Nor happiness a blessing vainly sought? 
O lovlier far than all may earthly seem. 

So beautifully and so divinely wrought. 
Maiden .who art thou thus to be unknown? 
And yet like life more dearer than life 
grown. 

Thy beauty is such as entrances praise. 
Which angels cannot halo, words ex- 
press ; 

Or spirit poet laud with heavenly lays. 
In musical lore of love's transcend en tness. 

Thy feature's light is but transmuted 
rays 
Of His own sacred, divine blessedness, 

O essence if thus sanctified above ! 

Thy purity ^is worhipful of love ! 

One look at thy pure features— in that 
glance 
Thy virgin soul, thy saintliness of heart, 



Shone outward from thy glorious counte- 
natice ; 
Which snake far more than eloquence 
hath art ! 

Such vision veils my bosom in a trance. 
Truth, purest truth, did every beam im- 
part. 

Who art thou maiden? maiden who art 
thou? 

W^ith tresses golden and with marble brow. 

Thou art beyond the love of mortal being ; 

Thou shouldst be placed upon a spotless 
shrine. 
Or pedestal ; and worshiped by the seeing 

Of all thy loveliness, which is divine : 
And not evanescent or quickly fleeing, 

Can such a beauty be which I define. 
Thy eyes glow with intensity of love. 
Star-like they are, soul-like, like those 
above ! 

Unknown, unknown by name, yet thou 
shalt be 
Immortal in my verse, and yet unknown ; 
Endeared ten-fold by holiest thoughts of 
thee. 
So dearly art thou to my bosom grown. 
Like some bright spirit whose soul's purity, 

Hath placed midst the angelical alone. 
O worship shalt thou have and most in- 
tense. 
Welled from the immortal soul and pas- 
sion-sense. 

And yet who art thou? could I know thy 
name? 
Thy name— how each wild pulse doth 
throb and beat 
For very madness, in my fiery frame: 
Ah ! I shall form one with all accents 
sweet. 
Such as will put the angel's self to shame. 
Whose hyuHiing names are harmony com- 
plete. 
When my sad sotil. like thy soul purified. 
Shall dare to call thee floating side by side. 



TO . 

Could I but drink the essence of thine eyes. 
Like star-drops fallen from the azure skies ; 
Or in thy hearing madly dare outpour. 
That which within me makes me thee 

adore. 
Ah ! Love is ardent if it hath no tongue. 
When enshrined as a joy in bosoms young. 

The soul can shape fair images at night, 
Not all unpalpabie to its delight ; 
So when the shadows of the evening fall, 
Thy radiant beauty doth my soul recall ; 
And to that vision boldly, passionately, 
I speak the love I cannot vow to thee. 



MISERY. 



If love be dooming lovers to forego. 
That which alone is balm for grievous woe ; 
And bids tlie worship in our breast depart, 
The verj^ life-warmth of the beating heart ; 
Ah ! then most surely will he couple pain, 
Wiih that joy only wliich we can retain. 

Love is the passion that a breast may feel. 
But dare not, cannot even dare reveal, 
Tf so his gaze is centered on a being. 
Loftier far tlian his own lofty seing. 
Must Love then ever fondest souls divide, 
By a cold barrier of wealth and pride ! 

Would that Love only were as just as 
death. 

Whose goodness levels all on earth be- 
neath ; 

Then I mi^ht dare approach thee and retell. 

That which within me is unspeakable ; 

But my own station shows me what thou 
art, 

And keeps us thus, forever thus apart. 



MISERY. 

In a dream I dreamt that a spirit coy 
Descended from heaven. Like a joy 
Of supr^ mest bliss will sometimes fill 
All tlie breast, till the heart itself is still ; 
So I felt when this spirit brightly came. 
With a loveliness of face and frame. 
To my side ; and breathed unto me a 

breath. 
Too intensely deep to be deemed of death. 
And whispered unto me with melody- 
sound. 
Like at night when heavenly spheres go 

round; 
And the stars, and the moon and the blue 

on high ; 
And the lake beneath, and thelsilence nigh. 
And the ghoul-like trees entwining rude. 
Combine in a beautiful solitude. 

I gazed at her gracious soul-lit eyes. 

Like the moonshine, when it brightly lies 

On an azure sef*, placid and calm 

So shone her orbs v»'ith tenderest balm. 

But I couid not for few moments sp-^ak. 

When I gazed at the wanness of her cheek. 

Like a lily in the glow of a summer night. 

Seen on her stem so chastely white ; 

Or a pale, pale rose, which though paler 

still. 
Would look not the less beautiful. 
Or a marble form by the sculptor flushed. 
And which never beneath his magic blush, 
Or a snowy cloud formed of nebulous air. 
So strangely shone her own cheeks there. 



And I said: "Who art thou, that thus has 

come ? 
And that speakest not, yet art not dumb ; 
O. I see that thy hair hath a dawny gloss. 
And thy eyes wander round as if mad by a 

loss; 
And I see that thy breast by something is 

shaken, 
Like a drowsy flower the wind doth waken ; 
And 1 wonder what thou art doing here. 
That seemest not of this earthly sphere ; 
If thy lips have power, O give speech birth. 
Be the words of sorrow or be they mirth. 
It were better at least some sigh to make. 
The silence of this huge forest to wake ; 
I had heard these woods were haunted 

long. 
Art thou one of the legended spirit-throng?' 

Then she moved her lips, and a tone is- 
s"ed. 

That scarcely seemed of life imbued. 

And her eyes gleamed forth such a light 
of bliss. 

And her cheeks took hues of such loveli- 
ness. 

And her breast heaved so 'neath a wild 
impulse 

Of her sad heart's passionate tumults; 

That I thought never mortal looked so 
fair. 

Or that love could consider lovelier. 

And she said, with a voice whose accents 
might be 

But the winds in a cavern or sighs of a 
tree: 

"I am happy at last since I am at thy side. 

And through life I will ever remain thy 
bride ; 

I am Misery, she who hath loved thee so 
long. 

With a love that each day grew more fer- 
vently strong." 

With an ecstatic madness I drew her 
apart ; 

With a joy and a gladness close-pressed to 
my heart. 

And I answered to her with a voice that 
had grown. 

Like an echo slow-sobbing in silence alone; 

" You shall be unto me, to my soul's soli- 
tude. 

As an angel we worship for beautitude." 

And the night was our priest for it wedded 
us both. 

And the trees were as witness who listed 
our troth. 

As beneath their dark covert 'twas truth- 
fully pledged. 

Where the forest a clear haunted rivulet 
edged. 

'Twas a dream I had dreamt, yet I grieve 
not the less. 

For the dream had its blisses which I will 
confess. 



70 



Since those hours of sorr 

sweetly beguiled 
By azure-eyed Hope, mine and Misery s 

child. 



IL CONVINTO. 

seemed 



IL CONVINTO. 

Once I could hold 
My head above 
The low, the high ; 
The high, the low. 
And now behold— 

(jod to die ! 

And know that love 
Hath made me so. 

1 was love's slave. 
And at her feet 

I worshiped, nay 
More than adored ! 
Since I could crave, 
Day after day. 
Existence sweet 
From passions hoard. 

I was not proud. 
Although my name 
Was trumpeted 
Around so oft. 
Mirt st beauty's crowd 
Midst nobles bred, 
I held my fame 
From her aloft. 

For to be prince, 
Or to be king, 
Was as to be 
Before her nought. 
But fool ! when since. 
The truth to me 
Hath been a thing 
To craze the thought. 

Fair whs she ? O 
She was too fair ! 
I loved her so. 
Till through my heart 
There w^ent the flow. 
From heart to brow ; 
And pictured there 
lis passion-part. 

She could have held 
Within her hand. 
The wealthiest 
Of kingdoms then. 
For she excelled 
In all the land 
The fairest guest 
Of beauty's den. 



With her flame eyes 
Of liquid light ; 
And with her brow 
And throat of pink ! 
And cheeks as skies 
Of morning now. 
As blushing bright, 
As plump I think. 

But what were these 
To all the rest 
'I'hat did create 
Her best of all? 
Since now with ease 
I curse the fate 
That made me blest 
In horror's thrall. 

And at her feet 
My wealth I lay ; 
And prayed for them 
She would accept. 
She smiling sweet 
Praised every gem 
Of pearl and spray. 
And opal clept ! 

Night after night, 
Day after day. 
From hall to lawn. 
The palace through ; 
She blessed my sight 
As does the dawn. 
Whose kisses stay 
Upon the dew. 

A murderer? 
Aye, I am one ! 
I done the crime 
So it is said. 
For could I bear 
To waste the prime 
Of manhood's sun 
When hope had fled? 

Did I not plead, 
And plead and pray, 
Knowing no scott" 
That she could give. 
For she indeed 
Would put me off 
Day after day,— 
'Twas hell to live ! 

And on a night— 

torture-thought - 
As forth I strolled 
In the cool air ; 
What met my sight? 
That uncontrolled 

1 recked of nought 
But vengeance there. 



HYMN. 



71 



I slew him first ; 
And slew her next ; 
\nd had myself 
Thereafter slew. 
But I was curst ! 
And as my pelf 
Was their pretext 
Hate was mine too. 

My brain grew crazed, 
I could not see ; 
I fainted then 
Upon the ground. 
And still as dazed, 
I woke but when 
'Twas agony 
To look around. 



Who was he? Guess! 
Whom she had met 
Within the park 
That fatal night. 
Her husband ? Yes ! 
O madman! Hark! 
The sun is set 
Slow fades his light. 

So here I am, 
In Italy. 
A prisoner 
For life they said. 
My passions damn 
The very air 
Where I must be, 
TiJl I am dead. 



Hear you the chant. 
And solemn tone 
Of convent-bells 
That yonder sw ing ! 
That hymn is scant 
As are these cells 
Of silent stone, 
Unechoing. 

I drag and drag 

My weary life. 

Hay after day. 

Like snails along. 

As on a crag. 

Unseen by day. 

Still grows as rife 

Some pine-bough strong. 

And blasted too. 
As such a branch. 
By such a grief 
As I have known. 
I live anew. 
Till come the brief 
Death-avalanche 
Of life alone. 



These chains have worn 
My spirit out. 
My hope, my will. 
My manhood's strength. 
Were I unborn, 
Twere better still 
Than thus to rlonbt 
The end at length. 

My faith, my trust. 

That is in One. 

In else, in all. 

Grieves not my thought. 

As lam dust. 

To dust I fall ! 

As I begun. 

So am I nought ! 

My passion ends. 
My prison-cell 
Hath prisoned but 
My mortal frame! 
I had no friends 
Since they first shut 
Me here to dwell. 
So have no name ! 



HYMxV. 



O God, O God, Almighty God ! 

Are we not thine ? Upon thy sod ? 

That were, that are ; that yet shall be 

Life- beings of eternity. 

Are we not thine? though men have done 

Some deeds beneath daj^'s glorious sun. 

Too base, too horrible to be 

Committed by these sons of thine. 

And yet we bow and pray to Thee— 

To Thee and to thy love divine. 

Ah ! men have been in other days 
Upon the dark and cloudy wavs; 
A gloomy -hearted brotherhood 
Of sin and crime, of war and blood. 
Mistaking Thee. And many nights 
Have shrouded awful prophet-rites ! 
But now do all, except the few 
Uiichristianized thy glory know. 
And yet these are thy children too. 
My spirit whispers it is so. 

O face to face with holy Truth ! 
From childhood unto thinking youth. 
V\ ith Thee, with thine, and all of thine. 
Is not our earth a worship-shrine? 
Where Godness, Love,talone suflice 
As offering for sacrifice. 
Heaven's arch to me is beauty's span. 
Uniting endless space and space ; 
And Thou art as tlie arch of man. 
Uniting each believing race. 



72 THE EAGLE.— "AS SOFTLY AS FALLS THE DEW."— FALSE BRIDE. 



O God, O God, Almighty God ! 
I'reserve for us the mercy-rod. 
Our blindness shall not ever dark 
Uur spirit to thy glorious spark. 
Our sins shall not for aye remain 
Upon our souls a torture-stain. 
We lift our eyes and bend ou.r knee. 
To dream of Thy beautitude. 
We look around and what we see 
Is Contemplation's littiug food ! 

O sons of earth, O heirs of Time ! 
Upraise thy soul to the sublime. 
Although no praises can rehearse 
The glory of the Universe, 
Perchance we thus may penetrate 
Through doubts and see the Holy Great. 
The One, the All, and Intinite 
Almighty Creator of earth ! 
Say not ye cannot see in it. 
But chant in psalms his sacred worth. 



THE EAGLE. 

Bird who from thy mountain-fastness 
Soareth iipward, through the vastness 
Of the azure-space unclouded; 
Thou dost seem a spii'it shrouded 
In the shadow-folds which darken 
Earth, when all the echoes hearken 
To the church-bell's solemn ringing. 
Fleetly soareth thou and grandly, 
Sun-undazzled, ever winging, 
Past the currents blowing blandly. 

Others blithely in the forest 

Sing their masses. But thou soarest 

Ever upward and above them. 

Nor dost mate with them or love them. 

For upon some peak, which singly 

Towereth in aspect kingly. 

Is thy dwelling. As if daring 

Loftiest seats of earth, if only 

To be king of birds. Uncaring, 

Though such life be wild ana lonely. 

I have seen thee too ascending 

When the clouds were gloomy-blending 

In the wilderness of ether; 

Like two warring foes together. 

And the lightning's fiery flashes; 

And the thunder's rumbling crashes, 

Pealing through the fields of azure 

Told of a potential battle. 

As from heaven's high embrasure 

Did those mighty charges rattle. 

I have seen thee ever rising. 
As if earth below despising, 
From some fortress-crag of ocean ; 
Soaring still with tireless motion, 



While below the sun-tints golden 

On the water were beholden. 

O to watch thee is not gladdening, 

For a soul with high adoring ! 

Since ther<' comes a yearning maddening. 

With thee likewise to be soaring. 

But soar on while thou art winging. 
Other sweeter birds are singing 
In the bloomy-grots below thee 
As if, eagle-king, to show thee 
Howsoever thou wing highly. 
Others tenderly and shyly 
Dwell on earth, and are contented 
To still hymn their notes of gladness. 
Though my soul has not repented 
For its transient wish of madness. 



"AS SOFTLY AS FALLS THE DEW." 

As softly as doth fall the pearly dew 
Upon the \argin flowers when they sleep. 
As softly would I kiss thee, maiden true. 
If thou as tenderly the kiss should keep. 

As sweetly as doth kiss the rosy morn 
Those gently-sloping, valley- vendure peaks. 
So sweetly, till a blush thereto was born. 
Would I imprint it on thy velvet cheeks. 

But then remember, love, as every night 
Bringeth renewal of those gems of joy. 
And every morn again with rosy light 
Upon yon silent peaks doth brightly cloy, 

So every eve and morning would I pi'ess 
My lips upon the beauty of thy face. 
One kisssweec, only, never more or less. 
For fear to sully its angelic grace, 

O may Diana's dew-drops ever strow 

The balmy-perfumed, blooming virgin 

flowers. 
And ever may the golden morning glow, 
Upon those lofty peaks for many hours. 

O ever may the sweetness of our youth 
Become united by such holy kiss! 
Since in our own confession-words of truth 
We say existence doth exist in this. 



THE FALSE BRIDE. 

Came the chieftain to his castle. 
And demanded of his vassal : 
" Where is she the bride I wedded? 
Speak or thou shall be beheaded !" 
"Listen, chief ! whilst thou wert waging 
War against the f oeman raging ; 



EPICURES.— HILDA. 



73 



She deoarted with another, 
Tliy base-born and wicked brother. 
I their footsteps fleet did follow 
To a lonely mountain hollow; 
And without their speed abating, 
Where an ebon steed was waiting. 
Tiien away they sped together, 
Like the falconi Avings in ether." 

Spake the chief in fi-enzy-laughter ; 

" Follow fast and follow after ! 

Nou.gl)t shall equal to my rapture. 

When theS3 fleeing two thou capture. 

IjCt tliat iraitor be beheaded. 

With the bride whom late I wedded. 

And their heads, with crimson trailing, 

Be transfixed upon the paling 

Of my castle's brazen-portal. 

So shall every passing mortal 

Know the fullness of my hatred. 

Speed, nor be thy speed abated ! 

Till the train be sundered, dying. 

In their base embraces lying." 

Night and night, and day and morrow. 
Sped those messengers of sorrow. 
Passing many a lofty tower. 
Which deried decaying power. 
Till they came in rear and seeing 
Of those wretched lovers fleeing. 
Nearer, nearer, they drew nearer. 
To the two whose life grew dearer. 
Well his own the knight defended. 
But too soon hi^ life was ended. 
Much the frailer for hers pleaded, 
But her prayers were unheeded. 
And the bride became another 
Sacrifice for such a brother ! 



EPICURES. 

"Lucullus with Lucullus dines," 
So hath it been with many kings 
Who feasted once on sumptuous things. 

Their tables as their palate-shrines. 

A monarch as an epicure, 

As aptily displays himself ; 

A man. with all his pomp and pelf. 
And purple shining garniture. 

Is nature then but provident. 
And bounteous to such as these? 
Who so luxui-iate in ease. 

From taxes as exorbitant. 

I've read of Alexander's feast. 

Outrivalling the greatest king. 

And yet this triie remembering. 
But makes his greatness seem the least. 



While Solon with his calmer sense. 
Could view with unaffected eyes 
Creosus' countless treasuries. 

Not riches gained his reverence. 

For those barba lie splendors are 
A wonder of this latter day ; 
We know that Egypt and Cathay 

Have often seen their triumph-car. 

And though within their iungle now, 
I Or bowing to despotic rule ; 
The Hindu had his lofty school, 
Till epicureans laid him low. 

If Theseus did beautify 

The xVthens of the younger world. 

Around his brow a wreath is curled: 
Tis fadeless, as the blue on high. 

Which is the greater, which the less? 

To live in pomp, to reign in pride? 

To deem thyself as deified I 
Yet be a mortal ne'ertheless. 

Or like the one who marked the site 
Where still remains decaying Rome, 
Of art antique the marble home. 

Achieve a nobler, grander might ! 

The monarch, like a monarch rules. 
With flatterers around his throne ; 
Who speak to him in mellow tone. 

And praise him as the cunning fools. 

The monarch, like a tyrant reigns. 
And then discovereth too late 
His subjects brotherhood in hate; 

Who wore too long his galling chains. 

It is no moral to be spurned; 
And yet in such an age as this, 
When monarchies are found amiss. 

'Tis almost still untaught, unlearned! 



HILDA. 



Thou for sweet caressing. 
With thy eyes of light. 
Radiant in their blessing. 
Of a spirit bright; 
With thy two lips lying. 
Like two buds undying ; 
Blushes rosy ever 
On thy cheeks as well ; 
Smile on my endeavor, 
List to what I tell. 



74 



A SIMPLE VIOLET.— AMORE.— THE MISTRESS. 



Svveetest, fairest Hilda, 
Thou who dost bewilder 
Every thrilling passion. 
With thy Venus fashion 
Of uptying gently 
Myrtle bioonis around thee, 
Speak to me pi'esently, 
Saying love hath found thee. 

Thou whom truth embracest. 
Fairest, gentlest, chastest ; 
Whom with rippling laughter. 
Babyhood trips after ; 
And thy eyes aglow as brightly 
As the radiant stars, which nightly 
In unclouded skies are shining. 
Calm my spirit's pining. 
Pining for thee ever, 
With a pure endeavor. 

Let me to thee render 

Every passion verse : 

Till I shall engender 

Thy heart with love as tender 

As Cupid can rehearse. 



A SIMPLE VIOLKT. 

A simple violet 

Upon her heaving breast : 

And yet, and yet, and yet, 

I cannot now forget 

How it thrilled me. 

Aye, and filled me 

With a passionate unrest ! 

had it but been mine ? 

That simple thing which shared 

Her couch of rapture fine. 

Heart-casket so divine ! 

But it unmade me. 

For she displayed me 

That nought for me she cared. 

1 sent her but a rose. 
And an uuconi^^cious pink 
To grace her bosom's snows. 
O. helicon of woes ! 

Did she then spurn them? 
Why not return them. 
For modesty I think. 

Who is the blessed one 

That loves her with my curse? 

Anon, anon, anon. 

She may be yet unwon. 

And alas ! I chide her. 

When myself beside her 

Had done perchance no worse. 



AMORE. 

Cupid, love me not apart. 
Love me with thy loving heart ; 
Heart of love as love thou art ! 

Cupid, thou entrancing elf. 
Not for passion, not for pelf. 
Love me for my simple self. 

Wee one, who can deify 
Everything in lover's eye. 
Love me ever till I die. 

Live upon my loving sweets. 
Where one lip the other meets, 
Kisses' beauteous retreats. 

Love-fed live in perfect bliss. 
On the passion of a kiss ; 
In a joy-deliciousness. 

Every breath I breathe is thine. 
Every hope of .ioy devine; 
Do I offer at thy shrine. 

Every throb and every thrill. 
Whether for the good 'or ill, 
Beateth gladly for thee still ! 

Every fancy, every hope, 
For the ranges wider scope 
Than the swift-foot antelope. 

Every morn and every night, 
Bringeth to my maiden-sight 
Clear celestial-dawns of light. 

Every morn and every eve. 
From thy presence I receive 
More than earthliness can leave. 

Every dew-di'op on the bud, 
Shows me that my womanhood 
Is by thee but understood. 

Cupid, come with me away. 
Into Dryad-grots of day ; 
There to live a life of May ! 



THE MISTRESS. 

Slowly, slowly, bear her far ! 

Ended is her passions' woes. 
Like the cloud which darks the star. 

Death to her was beauty's close. 

Aye. she queened it as a queen ! 

Yet she lived it as is life. 
Beauty that could be between 

A fair mistress and a wife. 



FORGET ME NOT— THE LARK.— " THE HEART."— ART. 



Who but wonders at her heart. 
That could lovingly perform 

Through her life a double part. 
Was her love for both as warm ? 

An adulteress perchance ! 

With a mask of loveliness 
Over her frail countenance : 

Screening what it could express. 

With the rapier in his breast. 

And her own alike in twain, 
^laybe in that world of rest 

They may chance to greet again. 

O the falseness of the friend ! 

That in life had imaged truth. 
Like an essence that could blend 

Seeming innocence with youth. 

Had she womanly been true ; 

Weepingly confessed her guilt. 
He was good enough to do 

More than grasp his weapon's hilt. 

God, if Eve and Adam feel. 
Who were born in innocence, 

What did they but do as well 
\Vhat some will do ages hence? 

With a castle as his tomb. 
With his conscience as a guide. 

He awaits the day of doom 
Who had won her for his bride. 

Slowly, slowly, bear her far! ' 
Falsely true, and falsely fair. 

Where the still repentant are ; 
Her repentance maj' be there ! 



FORGET ME NOT, 

The sacred font of Castalie, 
That brightly to the lulling sea 

In gentle rivulets descends ; 
Now murmurs through this balmy vale, 
Whose blossom-odours I exale, 

As every fragrance blends. 

O sweetly cool ! O purely bright ! 
The fountain like a pearl of light. 

Doth trickle from its marble base ; 
Where nymphs were wont their limbs 

lave, 
And blush to see within its wave 

Their shy reflected grace. 

And from a lightest myrtle-grot 
There softly sighs, " Forget me not! 

Forget me not !" 
And every bower, and every rill. 
Seems echoing and mumuring still ; 

'* Forget me not!" 



to 



THE LARK. 

Arise, arise. 

Thou chanting lark ! 
Now in the skies 

Dissolves the dark. 

Arise, and sing 

Thy glorious chant ; 
Thou beauteous thing ; 

Joy-ministant. 

Swift as the ray. 
Of morning beams. 

Thy form away 
Now speeding seems. 

Winging through space 
Of loveliest light ; 

Arise, and face 
Apollo bright. 

Welcome the morn 
With clearest trills ; 

Whose smiles adorn 
These daftbdils. 

Welcome the day 
With sweetest notes ; 

And then away. 
O'er fields and motes ! 



"THE HEART." 

The heart that loves, desires, and asks 
For Love's reward ; finds all its tasks 

As sweet as doth the humnnng-bee 
The blossom-honey which he sips ; 
And one sweet kis3 from virgin lips. 

Is bliss eternity ! 

The heart who worships loA'e itself, 
Beyond the formulas of pelf. 

And joys to see the blushes come 
And go, on modest maiden cheeks. 
Ah then for him existence seeks, 

A happy martyrdom ! 

And all oiir griefs, and all our tears ; 
And all our sadness and our fears. 

However much they are amiss. 
Thereby become Love's frankincense. 
For life and death, and soul and sense, 

Are wrapped within a kiss ! 



ART. 



And do you think our art complete 
And say perfection doth exist. 

And every part and part is meet? 
You dream but of the grist. 



76 



WOMAN.-JUSTIFICATION. 



For when, as now, you would comprise 
The infinite in the finite space. 

You s-riy the circle of your eyes. 
Is as Ihe circle of your face. 

So do away with every sect. 
E'en that we cannot comprehend ; 

The painter, poet, ai-chitect; 
Is art here at an end? 

For from the lowest we upbuild 
Unto the highest, so and so; 

And concentrate, and daub, and guild, 
From topmost to below. 

And plan and purpose, purpose, plan ; 

And realize the nothing-all ; 
Then as we strive our work to scan. 

That moment doth it fall. 

And do you think you can define 
The perfectness of the perfect? 

As saying many planets shine. 
So many must reflect ? 

Or also inimitably fill, 

With music from some instrument, 
The air? When scarcely you can thrill 

One breath-space of its vent. 

Perchance you are developing 

A newer theory, as a leaf ; 
By saying hidden causes spring 

From nought, in brief ! 

Since thinking that you can compel. 
That which is uncomplete as yet. 

To be surrending as well 
Its mystic abanet. 

Has human nature by degrees 
Perfection gained in one or some ? 

Ships only o'er wildest seas 
To haven come. 

As far as the complete in art. 

I do not boast it will not be ; 
But show me a complete heart, 

And let me see. 

Will you come ever to unloose 
The girdle round the form of Him? 

Then show me not what is abtruse, 
Or theory-dim, 

You kiss His lips as we may say. 
Since that you breathe His balmy air ; 

You live a life, so does the day, 
But unaware. 

W^hile we are phoenixes to die, 
And from our ashes rise and wing 

Our essence in a purer sky ; 
Yea, rise and sing ! 



And yet we are as worms that crawl, 
Who elevate ourselves so much. 

To say that the perfect of all 
Is such and such ! 

For whether with our minds or hands. 
We do not know the end of Art ; 

Man's purpose uncompleted stands, 
God's done in every part ! 

Completed in a perfect whole, 
In its infinite breadth of love; 

Of which perhaps ovir passionate soul 
Is but a segment of! 

And from each race to race and race, 
Is there not one connecting link? 

Where look you for Kis smile of grace? 
Stop now, and think ! 



WOMAN, 



No sweeter garland could we cull 

Of God's eternal grace, 
Thancoimtenances beautiful 

From woman's virgin race ! 

No purer incense offer up 

To Hisoiunipotence, 
Than all the dew within a cup 

Of their benevolence. 

No holier shrine beside His own. 
Where mortals could adore. 

Than a pure woman's heart alone 
To worship evermore ! 



JUSTIFICATION. 

'Tis an old debasing story. 

Of which men too often rave ; 
That the pathway up to glory, 

Leadeth onward to the grave. 
See thou every fear abjurest. 

Every frailer thought beside ; 
For the way is ever surest, 

Which hath courage for a guide. 

See with reason thou unitest 

Goduess, nobleness, and truth ; 
So the morning may be brightest 

Whicli is signified by youth. 
Age is but a mellow summer 

In the simple life of men ; 
Welcome then this rosy-comer. 

As contented as you can. 



EPITHALAMIUM.-WIDOW-WEEDS.-MEDEA.-IXNOCEXCE. 71 



Know there is a truth undying 

Midst the multitudCvS of men ; 
Glorj tying, beautifying, 

Kvery mortal being's ken. 
It is neither art nor glory. 

Though with thee forever rife. 
But it is the beauty story 

Of our passages through life. 



EPITHALAMIUM. 

May happiness attend thee both 
Who once were twain, but now are one 

Since Hymen wedding Cupid's troth, 
Is blessedness of life begun ! 

The stars shall brighter shine to-night 
To lead thee to thy bridal bed ; 

And Venus shall be richly dight 
With myrtles and with roses red. 

While balmy odours hither brought 

From Afric and from Araby, 
Shall lull thee to voluptuous thought, 

Within Love's court or empery. 

Apollo be propitiate 

To this fair twain of innocence; 
And lead them un in happy state. 

Both now and many seasons hence ! 

So shall their mingling currents run 

As tenderly and pure along. 
As a soft melody begun. 

As Sappho's sweetest song. 



WIDOW-WEEDS. 

Dost thou wear thy weeds so lightly, 
B'or that noble being dead ? 

Since thy eyes are shining brightly, 
As if now but newly wed. 

It is but a mask of sorrow 
Thou art purposing to wear? 

Say to-day is not to-m^irow. 
Yet he lies in silence there. 

Woman thou art only scorning 
Him who lies within his tomb ! 

For thy dress alone is n^ourning. 
In thy heart there is no gloom. 

Cast aside all rank appearance, 
Show thyself as so thou art ! 

For that noble one's endearance. 
Was a shadow on thy heart. 



Cast aside the tinsel matter. 

Which envelops thee in woe ! 
You have now no cause to flatter 

Him who lies in death below. 



MEDEA. 



From her beauty pluck a blossom ! 

From her bosom pluck a thorn ! 
Trample on her; 
Tread upon her ; 

Treat her with the deepest scorn. 

Would to God she were unborn ! 

In her eyes there lurks a viper ; 

And a hydra in her smile. 
Pass and scorn her ; 
Cease to mourn her. 

For she charmeth you awhile. 

Till you know' her nature's guile. 

Say she is as fair as morning; 

Know she is as foul as night ! 
Rank and lustful. 
Is that dustful 

Form of beauty exquisite. 

God, to think her a delight ! 

Mock and mock her. in her splendor. 
Charm and charm her like a snake. 

Then desert her; 

'Twill not hurt her. 
She herself knows well to break 
A poor heart for fancy's sake. 

Earth is hell with such a creature. 

Who herself is Paradise. 
Charms and woos you. 
Then undoes you 

With her softest honey-lies ; 

Even as your spirit sighs ! 



INNOCENCE. 

O God, it is a goodly sight to see 

A budding plant of innocence displayed! 
With every motion, grace, and action free. 

In wisdom's garb and virtue's both arrayed. 

Not yet a woman nor a maiden wild. 
The blush of one, the other's modesty ; 

Like some fair moonbeam that with lustre 
mild. 
Sheds its pure radiance over land and sea. 



78 THE BEAUTIFUL.— LOVE'S BLOSSOMS.— LAUGHING WATER. 



A blossoming flower though reared within 
the shade. 
On whose sweet lips the dew-drops dance 
with glee ; 
Just springing forth from childhood's sunny 
glade, 
With honey yet unsipped by lustful bee. 

Whose brightest looks are veiled beneath 

a cal m 
Of pure and sweet tranqiiilty ; 
Whose winsome smiles are litie a soothing 

balm. 
Whose eyes are filled with unshed tears for 

thee. 

Life's violet whose sweet po'fume distilled, 
Is like the fragrant spice of Araby ; 

Whose heart and mind are both by kind- 
ness willed. 
Whose face is stamped by truth's divinity. 

O God, it is a goodly sight to see 
A maid whose soul is one unspotted grace ! 

What wonder then the angels bid her flee. 
And leave this earth to greet Thy sweet 
embrace. 



O God, it is a goodly sight to see 
A fair fresh face like bright decending 
showers ! 
Not mocked by false impious piety. 
But a pure plant plucked from Thy hea- 
venly bowers. 



and 



A being clad in holiest chastity. 
That lives iin worshipped yet is fair 
bright ; 

As those pure angels that do worship thee. 
Her innocence her spirit's virgin light ! 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 



Thou art so pale, and wan, and chilling 

cold. 

Thou art so pensive and so sadly still ; 

That passionate words which erst I would 

have told. 

Become abashed in their undying will. 

Such tender pathos illumes thy lonely face. 
Such gracious goodness sliineth from 
thy eyes ; 

That happily I would my love retrace. 
And be content to listen to thy sighs. 



Thou art so calm, and yet so gently sweet. 
Thou art so pure and yet bO sad withal ; 
That sorrow casts its shadows at thy feet. 
And burdening cares upon tiiee softly 
fall. ■ 
Thou art not gloomy, but like a tender ray 
Of that fair moon which through a 
cloud 
Emerges pale and makes her silent way ; 
Thou art with all her beauty too en- 
dowed. 

Exalted Truth and Virtue each possess 
A partial share of Wisdom's fondest 
heart ; 
Each radiant grace, though nothing to ex- 
cess. 
Is worn by thee which Nature can im- 
part. 

Each modest glance that purify doth give, 
Combine to deck tbee in a holy light ; 

Alas ! fair maid too little thou must live. 
For soon His voice will wing thee from 
our sight. 



LOVE'S BLOSSOMS. 

Love's blossoms once blighted. 

Will bloom not again : 
And charms which delighted. 

Be cherished in vain. 
Yet youth may have taken 

One leaflet away. 
Which oft will awaken 

The bosom once gay. 

Soft sighs in their mildness. 

First help it to bloom ; 
But jealousy's wildness 

Destroys its perfume. 
Then love this fair flower 

As well as you may. 
For it buds— in an hour— 

Tis faded away. 



LAUGHING WATER. 



From a lake translucent, rippling, 
Comes this river ever flowing ; 

With its crystal current crimpling, 
And pure drops of brilliance throwing. 



I CHERISH LIFE.-'^ O GOD." 



79 



Not for rocks or meadows stopping, 
'Neath the sunbeams brightly shining ; 

While some flowers its banks o'ertop- 
ping, 
Dress it with a perfumed lining. 

Across the prairies, passing mountains, 
P^ver glides its murmuring fluid ; 

From the lake's becalmed fountains, 
Are its waters clear renewed. 

Round its banks the birds are humming 
Jjullabies, like music seeming; 

As the stream is seen while coming 
Through the lilies palely gleaming. 

Sapphire-vested on it whimpers. 
Eddying, whirling, hither, thither ; 

Each stone-parted ripple simpers, 
As again they float together. 

Over jutting mosses leaping. 

Calmly "neath low branches passing ; 
Then round banks of herbage creeping. 

Where the fawns are oft amassing. 

In abysms disappearing. 

With a snarkling sheeny splendor ; 
Far beyond them re-appearing. 

Through more meadows to meander. 

They call this the '"Laughing Water," 
Joyous in its murmuring lightness ; 

Where the Indian's beauteous daughter, 
Saw her image in its brightness. 

Seldom now is heard the yelling 
Here of braves in combat meeting ; 

But its banks are still tlie dwelling 
Of inhabitants as fleeting. 



I CHERISH LIFE. 

I cherish life, and hope the will 
Of Heaven may extend it long ; 

So I can love in living still. 
The one who suffered for our wrong, 

'Tis true we are but born to die ; 

Yet we should try and make our life 
A fitting one. and noblify 

Our kindred brothers in the strife. 

One life alone can humans live. 
One life too transient for the blest; 

Who joy all that the earth can give. 
Nor deem what woe may feel the rest. 



But take each thread of existence 
And weave them to a holy chain ; 

And through all woe and joy intense. 
Linked firmly still they will remain. 

The bond of life, the chain of love ! 

How blissful is this spirit-tie. 
Which binds us to 'ihe One above. 

Nor makes us fear so much to die. 

I cherish life, and if it should 
Bring greater wisdom with its years. 

And firmer purposes of good ; 
It shall not be a life of tears. 

And I shall strive to make the days 
Allotted to each mortal being, 

A work to claim men's noble praise. 
And with His divine laws agreeing! 



'OGOD.' 



God, pray soothe my youthful mind. 
Else I become rassion-blind. 

1 have duties to fulfill. 
Which are uncompleted still. 

Since we cannot death gainsay, 

Let life be one joyous day. 
It must be, 'tis our belief 

Brings us such a load of grief. 

Hearts with purpose firm and strong, 
To outwear their garb of wrong. 

Shall issue from out its night. 
To a grand and glorious light. 

Those who ever madly yearn. 
For blessings which cannot return. 

Waste their days, which when once lost. 
They will learn to prize the most. 

Labor onward with a zeal. 
And thy heart shall purer feel. 

But spend moments in disdain. 
They will bring thee bitter pain 

Man feels happy if he knows. 

After toiling comes repo.se ; 
If he toil not. Life will be 

But a calm in 3Iisery ! 

All our joys and all our sorrows, 
Ha-i their past and have their mori'ows ; 

For the present's but a feature 
Of the life of every creature ! 



80 



FAIRY FESTIVAL.-TWO NIGHTS. 



FAIRY FESTIVAL. 

Fill an acorn-cuD with dew, 
We will drink to fairies too ; 
Since they love the liquid most, 
With which we will drink our toast. 
Pass the oaken's chalice round, 
Over the enchanted ground ; 
Where the moonbeams, one by one, 
Have their silver fancies spun. 
Place the dew-cup in the light. 
In the aii'y fairies' sight. 

Fill an acorn-cup with dew. 
We will drink to fairies too. 
They who ever lightly float. 
Over castle, over moat; 
Over meadows, over vale. 
On the kisses of the gale. 
In the silence of the hill. 
Where the chapel standeth still. 
Near the murmurs of a brook. 
Or a pearly cavern's nook. 

Fill an acotn-cup with dew. 

Drink it up and till anew. 

This pure liquid soon will steep 

Thy own senses in a sleep. 

And while sleeping thou wilt di-eam 

Of many an undiscovered streau). 

Of many a palace glittering bright. 

With walls and domes of crysolite. 

Of many a voluptuous feast. 

Outvying e'en the gorgeous East. 

Of many a knightly tournament. 
With champions all of high descent. 
Of many a virgin lady fair. 
Enchanted in some lion's lair. 
Of many an isle in golden seas. 
Where one could dwell in balmy ease. 
And trysts of joy, or bouts of woe, 
Or temples old with lamps aglow; 
All beautiful visions, until soon 
Thou wake from the opiate swoon. 

Fill an acorn-cup with dew, 
Hither come some fairies too. 
Dressed in gold, and blue, and green. 
Dressed in sapphire's crystal sheen. 
Crowned with x'oses, lilies white. 
The chaste worshippers of night. 
Followed by bright-plumaged birds. 
Trilling forth melodious words. 
Attended by a beauteous number 
Of butterflies in spirit-slumbei'. 

Fill an acorn-cup with dew. 
Tills assemblage shall drink too. 
These princesses of airy reign. 
Cannot refuse in proud disdain. 
To drink with one whose only harm 
Lies in praising their divinest charm. 
See o'er the radiant moonlit ground. 
They dance with softest blendiiigsound ; 
Like the music of tlie heavenly spheres. 
Tuned only for angelic ears. 



Have all the acorn- cups been filled? 
Fair blossoms hath this dew distilled. 
Now blooming on yon mossy brink. 
Then gentle fairies pray you drink. 
And while you drink this dew, I will 
Drink of the nectar you distill. 
Ah my senses now in rapture swim. 
And my eyes from ecstacy grow dim ! 
Fade, fade the fairies from my view. 
And with them acorn-cups and dew ! 



TWO NIGHTS. 

Most beauteous moon ! 
And thovi tremulous stars ! 
Whence Night unto the soul depicts her- 
self 
In sumptuous gloom ; 
Why do thy flames 

Move the de "p spirit and the senses calm 
Of my sad breast? 

Each feeling in this hour of silentness, 
Knoweth no rest. 

And even in the balmy air's perfume 
My bosom finds no peace. 
And tries but vainly to relax the strain 
Of its heart-pain ; 

From panging gi'iefs to give it a surcease. 
Each thought anew still jai\s 
Each chord the bosom claims : 
And yet 'tis now in one life's youth no less, 
That yearning hopes upspring and bloom. 

Sweet Memory recalls 

One past yo\itll-night 

Like this as placid and as holy ! 

From heaven's high walls. 

To the tall mountains and the streams 

Murmuring on slowly. 

One flushing breath 

Of April warmth, like the pure breath of 

love. 
Kissed all the earth, as sorrow kisses death. 
Thou with thy lustruous beams, 
Transcendent in their light 

moon ! didst ingem the scenes below. 
For many miles and miles 

With wondrous enchantment. 

And flooded heaven with a silver glow. 

Most beauiifuUy bright. 

It was the smile of Nature, where the sod 

Hath pious exaltution to its God! 

In such an holy hour, 

Wht^n all on earth was still ; 

Except few murmurs round yon lonely hill. 

1 wandered forth, not knowing where to 

stray 
Stirred with a discontent unsoothable. 
Youthful, yet musing on the nresent, past; 
Dreading, yet hoping that a future day 
Would dawn at last. 



THE GLORY. 



81 



When confident in a power. 

At which inj' bosom could with gladness 

swell, 
I would not feel one life-regret. 
And the thought. 
Then wakened in nie, liveth yet. 
And in this clearness doth instill 
Sometiiing so often sought. 
A divination of that yearning hope ! 

How many dear remembrances thy bright- 
ness, 

Etherial gems recall ! 

How many joys the mind re-animates, 

The hidden secrets of the breast ; 

Whispered in just such nights by throb- 
bing hearts. 

Unto some being spiritually blest. 

This beauty ever chastens and elates. 

In wliich the soul hymns to the God of all. 

By whose illumination dwell the immortal. 

A hymn most passionate in all its stress. 

Till it doth seem as if heaven's curtain 
parts. 

Displaying seraph-forms of grace, 

Winging through amber space ; 

Golden-stringed instruments tuning. 

Like melody swooning. 

Ah those angelic strains though high above. 

Still flood the soul like thy pure beams, O 
Queen of Love ! 

And 'tis thy lustre pale, 

That soothes the turbulent waves 

Into a glittering languishment. 

Till through the silvery sea is sent 

In safety the galley's gilded prow ; 

Combatted erstwhile by the maddened 

gale. 
Now calm and perilous no more. 
Soothed to innocent sleep 
Like a fair child 
By Its mother's lullaby. 
Soft fall thy beams in one pure radiant 

flow ; 
And the warm wind embraces me with 

kisses mild. 
Its every breathing teems 
Witn whisperings descended from a 

sphere. 
Far holier and more divine than here. 
How much still yearns the ever lingering 

thought. 
To know from whence doth come the 

brilliancy 
Of Cythia's brightest beams 
So beautifully wrought. 

With joy extreme behold her. 

She chosen splendor of the skies! 

When are exausted the soul's enlogies, 

Srill from the br.^ast intensely forth 

Throb the high-passionate words ; 

" Thee do I worship and no one on earth !" 

See how light clouds enfold her. 



' In loveliness she girds 
All the celestial space with light, 
Are my desires in mortal prayers requited? 
That smilingly in her refulgence bright, 
Her chastest rays are showered on my 

face ; 
E'en while departing kissing me through 

space ; 
With kisses such as but immortals have 

delighted. 

Ah in my dying hour my accents last shall 

be ; 
" Pure love, undying love, 
For the moon's purity !" 

Beauteous stars begnign ! 

That from heaven's blue concave shine ; 

And thou still brightly beaming, 

Flacidious moon ! 

From yonder solitary hill. 

Me from thought's languid swoon 

Aw^aking. Whose enthralling will 

Draws shadows round my heart ; 

Thy serene light doth holiness impart. 

E'en to this !-ilent funereal ground. 

Thy beams, like love-lit eyes, though trees 

Do shed a loveliness around ; 

Dewing the flowers on their stems at ease. 

And I, spirit of immortalitj', shall lay 

'Neath where thy crystal beams 

All purely sprinkled, o'er my clay 

Shall hallowed forms of fanciness assume. 

Tinting with silvery fringe the pending 

gloom. 
Thy beauty do I w^orship and no shrine 
Have I for such divinity but thine. 

Resplendent festival of stars ! 

Each eyeing each with ardor's melting gaze. 

Casting pure looks of passionate desire. 

Silence of a dome of fire ! 

With million lights ablaze. 

Except when forth like music's mightiest 
swell. 

All the harmonious spheres 

Roll on their strains by man incomprehen- 
sible ; 

Too heavenly for his mortal ears. 

Now is this glorious temple like a sea. 

Sparkling with brightest gems of purest 
brilliancy. 

I know- not. but upwelling from my soul 

Something intense I feel. 

Which I cannot control ! 

Around me like a band of angels steal 

Those fairy beams of beauteousness. 

And silently along I stroll. 

Feeling purified no less. 



THE GLORY. 

Columbia. the giory that shrineth thy name 
Is thy joy and thy beauty ; the heir of the 
same. 



82 



HAPPENINGS.— NYMPHS TO APOLLO. 



Who can equal the love and the patriot- 
zeal 

Of the sons who restored thee thy true 
Common- weal? 

Can we weep when such valor gained free- 
dom at last ? 
Though destruction attended the wars of 

thp past. 
Can we weep though the ravage of homes 

had begun? 
When we know that their de 'ds and their 

bravery won. 

Through the pages of Time I gaze back- 
ward again. 

To the purpose before such an army of men. 

When for freedom they battled, yea, fouglit 
with a hate. 

But victory could vanquish and joy dissi- 
pate. 

Like an angel descending in glory from 

high, 
Did a spirit inspiring pervade soul and eye; 
With the strength of a giant each soldier 

was blessed. 
Till victory welcomed the heaven-born 

guest ! 

Now thank heaven that peace hath at 

last been restored. 
And we thrive in the Freedom through 

ages adored ; 
It was left to Columbia, new-born on the 

world, 
For the grand flag of Liberty to be unfurled. 



HAPPENINGS. 

happy day ! 

1 looked upon thee and thou art away. 
What art thou then? a sunshine disap- 
peared, 

Which but remaineth in remembering? 

Thou dawned in splendor and thy radi- 
ance cheered ; 

And in the morn made joyous songsters 
sing. 

Yet like a form which lies beneath its 
pall. 

Thy gladness only we in thoughts recall. 

O blooming flower ! 

Must thou too likewise know as sad a 
power! 

Thou wast not known a simple space of 
time ; 

And now thou bloomest in virginity. 

And thou hast budded forth in scented- 
prime, 

Gentle and cloj'ing to the winds that be. 



Like to a smile thnu art on Nature's face. 
Which when departed leaves no tender 
tracie, 

O golden youth! 

Art tnou as fleeting as that day in truth? 

As many memories of joy were thine ; 

Which many radiant sunshines did dis- 
play. 

As many offerings on beauty's shrine 

Thou didst once sacrifice, for being gay. 

Yet like the shadows of the vested Night, 

So calmer thoughts must follow such de- 
light. 

O happy heart ! 

How long can gladness joy to thee impart? 

Art thou as fated as that virgin flower. 

So doomed to bud. to blossom, and to die ? 

( ;an happiness not be a dewy dower. 

To cheer thee onward without grief or 

sigh? 
No. thou must sviffer an unchan/ing fate ; 
Perchance to shroud thyself in glorious 

state. 



NYMPHS TO APOLLO. 

Fair Apollo, we will mind thee; 
And as viigins garlanded. 
Follow fleetly on behind thee. 
Be thou but our godlihead ! 
Leaving grots of purest pleasure. 
Where we danced in liquid measure ; 
Leaving far our coral-valley ; 
Where we forth were wont to rally. 
Mischievous and gay. 

With the myrtle and the laurel. 
We shall crown thee sweetly ; 
And with but a leaf-apparel 
Follow thee completely. 
Leaving Thessaly in sadness ; 
Yet continuing in gladness, 
Everywhere that thou mayst lead us. 
If Pan promise not to heed us 
On uur gambol-way. 

Take thy lute and tune it gently. 
For the sweetest notes of sorrow; 
Tuning gladde, strains presently. 
Ere the dawning of a morrow. 
First time 'tis we go astraying. 
From our flowery meads of playing ; 
Yet all happily we follow. 
Such a music-god Apollo ; 
Though we go astray. 

How thy melody entrances. 
Some are still unknowing; 
Yet our happiness of glances. 
Such is truly showing. 



TO-MORROW.— LEONIE.— NURSERY RHYME. 



83 



Now each nymph and virgin-maiden, 
Each with fairest flowers Jaden, 
Rippling laughter, follows faster; 
With our limbs of alabaster. 
Gleaming in the day. 



TO-MORROW. 

How oft we say to-morrow ; 

For in the ceaseless resilessness of life, 
From thence we borrow 

One single hope : "It may bring peace to 
life." 

How oft e'en while weeping. 

We dry our tears; and forward look to 
say ; 
" The future is keeping 

For us one quiet and ungrievous day." 

Yet all the morrows 
That came and for us will not dawn 
again ; 
Brought later sorrows 
Why should we wish then to renew their 
pain? 

'Tis always Hope, 

The eternal essence of the human mind ; 
Which tries to cope. 

With all the sorrows of the future kind. 

As clouds that roll. 

So are the changes which await us all. 
Joy lights the soul, 

borrow but gloums it by its somberer 
pall. 

Life cannot be 

Immutable in all ; for existence 
Is mutability 

Of every joy, and grief, in heart and 
sense. 

Yet do not chide; 

Though Life seems gloomy, Fate alone 
is stern. 
In all beside. 

The end of sorrow^ is but joy's return. 



LEONIE. 



My maiden's eye-lids tremble. 
Her ciieeks are cold and pale ; 

What makes her thus dissemble, 
Until she doth resemble 

Some spirit in death's veil. 



O Love, my orbs are filling 
With swiftly gushing tears ! 

What sorrow is instilling 
Somnolent potions, chilling 

Thy form so fair in years ? 

O Love a spirit lingers 
Around thy couching form ; 

Touching with holy fingers 
A harp. Like angel singers. 

So sounds that music warm ! 

See Love 'tis drawing nearer. 
Pray bid me life's farewell ! 

Her eyes one moment clearer. 
Were closed forever; dearer. 

In heaven fehe doth dwell. 

Yet stray the purest flowers 
Above'her virgin tomb ; 

Memorial of love's hours. 
Flown to celestial bowers ; 

Eternally to bloom. 



NURSERY' RHY'ME. 

Once there lived in Ispahan, 
Near a princess palace wall. 
A renowned, yet curious man ; 
Thirty inches tall . 

Long his hair was, to the ground 
Did it reach it was so long : 
Though his body measured round. 
Had the measure of my song. 

He was neither king nor prince, 
Duke or squire or anything ; 
Only as I found out since. 
Like an angel could he sing. 

And when softly came ihe night. 
From her crescent halls of flame ; 
He would, hidden out of sight. 
Chant the nightingale to shame. 

And he sung as was his wont. 
Standing near the parapet ; 
That across the Hellespont, 
Hero waits Leander yet. 

And one night the princess fair. 
Part- enamoured of the moon ; 
Heard him smging sweetly there. 
This most sad but tender tune. 

Quick she bade her handmaids bring 
This fair singer to her sight ; 
Her young bosom wondering. 
And "yet thrilling with delight. 



84 



MARGUERITE.— TO KITTY. 



He appeared ; at first his size 
Perplexed the fair princess quite ; 
But bright Cupid made her eyes, 
Magnify their azure sight. 

So she wedded him the same; 
Though the court received with laugh- 
ter. 
His diminutive elf-frame. 
They lived happy ever after. 



MARGUERITE. 

Features veiled in tender sadness, 
Like a melanchoUy gladness ; 
Marbleiiess of snow. 
Calmness that but drives to madness, 
I who love thee so. 

Beauty without joyful splendor, 
Graces that now only render 
Greater grief to me. 
Where are all thy glances tender ? 
That were wont to be. 

Paleness of a hidden sorrow. 
Loveliness from which I borrow 
Sadder, deeper woe. 
Death, 1 pray thee come to-morrow. 
If she remains so ! 

Chaster than the chastest being, 
Purer in His holy seeing 
Than the purest gem. 
Ah! thy soul will soon be fleeing 
Past this earthly phlegm. 

Let me stifle thee with kisses. 
Till you languish in their blisses ; 
Thou shalt smile again. 
Yet my worshipping caresses, 
Fondly give me pain. 

What has caused this soulful grieving' 

Thinkest thou I am deceiving. 

False in spoken troth ? 

Smile, for I feel sorrow weaving 

Chains around us both. 

Still those cold and pallid glances. 
Every charm the heart entrances. 
Thou dost still possess. 
Yet the spirit death, advances 
O'er their loveliness 

O woe me that she should be dying ! 
O woe me that she is now lying 
In her tomb for aye ! 
Death, I'm not thy power defying 
Take me any day. 



For I loved thee Marguerite, 

With a love never complete ; 

Howsoever it may be. 

And though joy is short, and life is fleet. 

Both seem eterne to me ! 



TO KITTY. 



O only once, O once alone, 

A boon the poorest wretch might grant ; 

And yet for which I'd give a throne. 

If such I had to give at want. 

But once, a bliss for which I pant. 

And thou couldst give me and will not. 

My lips upon the sacred spot. 

Where thy lips meet for sweet descant. 

O only once, 'tis all I ask ; 

Nor could I wish or hope for more. 

To thee a simple easy task. 

To me an age's torture o'er ; 

And I would go to meet no more 

On earth, if such thy will should be. 

Yet I would press in ptirity. 

Thy lips— a kiss, the bosom's lore ! 

Natttre is good ; and part divine 
The beauty is upon thy face. 
As if she blessed the joy of thine. 
With all there is of tender grace. 
And gladly do I ever trace 
The lo eliness thoti hasi in youth ; 
And I do only speak the truth. 
In saying nought can such efface. 

A simple boon— a transient kiss ! 
Then 1 shall be too well repaid. 
So I could seek a clime from this. 
And hope would not so aulckly fade. 
One single kiss ; do not upbraid. 
Thy lips till now were ever pressed 
By one whose kisses only blessed ; 
A mother's, not a lover's maid. 

Nought else I ask, nor could I claim 

From thee a sweeter, purer boon. 

And this would help to soothe and tame. 

My tit ry, wandering spirit soun ; 

Btit it is better I were gone. 

Twere best for both that we should part : 

I cannot hope to win thy heart, 

And cannot dwell with mine alone. 

Yet could I from thy red lips take. 
The fleeting transport of all joy, 
A single kiss ; the joy would make 
Unto my heart one pure alloy. 
For all its pain, and also buoy 
My soul upon its strayings far ; 
No sorrows then its hop could mar. 
Nor would it other bliss enjoy. 



THE RAIN.— THE LOVERS. 



85 



For thee it would remain a shrine. 
With but one being worshipped there. 
The wordliipping ahme wer- mine. 
And I would sacrifice the air 
VVith such sad sighs ; that others near 
Should whisper, pain beyond control 
It must be which disturbs ,-uch soul, 
Or that such breast hath there. 

One simple kiss, wilt thou refuse 
That boon whereon my life doth lie? 
I would not claim such to abuse. 
Or may I unforgiven die. 
I love thee, till I deify 
My passion to a holier love. 
Than we confess for those above 
Now, now, wilt thou the kiss denv ? 



THE RAIX. 

O Welcome rain. 

Reviver of the earth ; 
Come fall aaain. 

And give the flowers birth ! 

In silent showers 

Descend upon the ground ; 
Until the bowers 

Become with crystals crowned. 

With genial smile 
Fall gently on the field. 

So they awhile 
May joy thy lavish yield. 

Each glistening drop 

Doth kiss the mountain lake. 
Where aerial creatures stop 

Their tiny lips to slake. 

Each pearly tear 
Of thine O gentle rain. 

This Summer-year 
Will bring us golden grain! 

O fall again 

Thou radiant, genial shower. 
Thou glistening r.iin. 

And diamond of the hour. 



Far sweeter welcome 

Doth thou receive when seen, 
"Within a farmer's home.. 

Than kingly guest I ween. 

With merriest voice 

The valley-woods receive thee; 
The various plants rejoice 

And never would they leave thee. 



The hills turn green 

With envy at rhy shower. 
But all the leaves are seen 

Low bowing to thy power. 

Then welcome rain. 

Thou harbinger of mirth ; 
And fall again 

To bless thy bride the earth. 



THE LOVERS. 



The breezes are blowing. 

While the evening is throwing 

A shade where the flowers are blushingly 

glowing ; 
The sad moon is pining, 
With her amber rays shining 
On the river's clear face and midst ripples 

entwining. 

The pine-boughs are swaying. 

To the Zephyr's playing. 

Who around this pure flowery river are 

straying ; 
And the Night sadly steeping 
The young buds with her weeping. 
Leaves her heart midst their leaves and 

her tears in their keeping. 



Through moonlight and shadows ; 
Through moss-Avays and meadows. 
To the bower of daisy and lily and rose ; 
In the midst of these groves ; 
Like two cooing doves. 
Where the high arching branches repeated 
their loves. 



Two lovers were wont. 

Near this clear-ripplii)g font. 

To listen entranced to the nightingale s 

chant ; 
And as the sweet strain 
Filled their ears, they again 
Would bend low to themselves and re-sing 

the refrain. 



'Till one morn both were found 

On the dewy turf-ground. 

With their arms round each other so lov- 
ingly wound. 

And 'tis all that we knew, 

That they loved and were true. 

May in heaven their love brighter, holier 
reuew ! 



LESBIA.-RETURN OF SPRING.-EVENING. 



LESBIA. 

Like a rose without thorn. 
Like the dawning of morn 
Like a dew-drop just born. 
Is my Lesbia. 

Like a pearl in its shell ; 
Like violets that dwell 
In a dim fairy dell, 
Is my Lesbia, 

Like a sweet anemone. 
Or a lilac scarce blown ; 
Like a crocus alone. 
Is my Lesbia. 

Like a star-beam of nierht ; 
Like a gemmed crysolite, 
Which dazzles the sight, 
Is my Lesbia. 

A vision of loveliness, 
A picture of gentleness, 
A model of holiness, 
Is my Lesbia. 

A pearl above prizing 
In its realizing ; 
So startling, surprising. 
Is my Lesbia. 

Fairer than fair can be. 
Pure above purity; 
A snow-drop of Chastity, 
Is my Lesbia. 

All these possessing. 
Yet ever repressing 
Or kissing, caressing ; 
Cruel my Lesbia! 



RETURN OF SPRING. 

Fair golden-haired Aurora flies 

On radiant dewy wings. 
To greet the Spring with beauty-skies 

Of rainbow colorings. 

While Spring with whispers soft and 
low. 

Attended by her train. 
Appears in woods and vales below. 

As queen of Earth's domain. 

The birds with merry melody 

Amidst the bloomy trees. 
Do welcome her with chants of glee. 

And songs of mellow ease. 



The fleecy flock now ply the hills, 
Now browse on meadows green ; 

Or stray to tricUliiiiJ' mountain rills. 
With gentle walk and mien. 

'Tis here the mind enjoyment finds 

In contemplative sport ; 
And breathes the pure and osier winds, 

'Midst fragrant bowers wrought. 

How sweet the day, when Nature s lyre 

Awakes with merry swells 
The budding boughs, and the plumed 
choir 

Respond from leafy dells. 

When Winter harsh with chilling ire 
Has left earth's wide domain. 

We see blight Spring in green attire 
Begin her lovely reign. 

And when she comes with happy 
voice, 

To sprinkle buds on esrth ; 
Then all the woods and birds rejoice. 

In loveliness and mii'th. 

Then dazzling green the earth adorns. 

And odors fill the fields ; 
And ibTolden suns, and vernal morns. 

Display the p jwer she wields. 



EVENING. 



dusky Eve, while the bright sun 
Reposes in his golden tent. 

Exhausted by his labor done ; 
While thy own starry charms augment. 

And there UDon his azure bed, 
Passes the iiight in slumber sweet ; 

While sable clouds that girt his head. 
Help but to make his rest complete. 

1 joy to woo those balmy hours 

That know thy swift though lonely 
reign ; 
And wonder at the unseen powers 
That thee descends on this domain. 

When Silence with his dt^wy tread, 

By Slumber heralded afar. 
Arrives from heaven overhead 

With drowsy steeds yoked to his car. 

With pensive steps I make my way. 
Past gloomy grots and gurgling creeks; 

'Neath where the moon with lucid ray. 
Looks coldly on the mountain peaks. 



HANCOCK.-THE BATTLE. 



87 



The distant spire like spectres dim 
Arise to sr^et the floaiinsdr clouds ; 

And bells which toll the nightly hyran 
Are echoed by the kneeling crowds. 

And here where freshening dews revive 
With crystal touch the fainting flow- 
ers, 
I saw thee silent Kve arrive 
All shadow-veiled among these bow- 
ers. 

To praise thee now I tune my strains. 

And joy thy presence midst the woods ; 
Where day from entering refrains, 

Though noon's briglit suii sometimes 
intrudes. 

The empress Moon with radiant veil. 
And fold of siilver-iinctured dyes, 

Doth now emerge all pining-pale 
From the cathedral of the skies. 

Alas I how many countless years 
Hath this chaste nu i presided there ; 

A penitent, whose balmy tears 
Do bless the earth and ease her care. 

And ambient in her azure sphere 
She greets thee with a holy smile ; 

Which makes thy sadness disappear 
Beneath reserves of mellow guile. 

Hark ! listen to that warbled strain. 
Symphonic notes of tenderness; 

It is the Nightingale again 
Who singeth what he would repiess. 

But hoping by thy gentle cheer 
To win the rose his blushing love ; 

He chants such melody, the ear 
Imagines 'tis from skies above . 

Thus I behold thy dusky arms 

Embracing earth, Thy mother eld ; 

While stars and stars increase the charms 
Which day hath never yet excelled. 



He was one of her bravest sons. 
Endued with courage, grandly bold ; 
A giant in his warring mould. 

Fit leader for those buried ones. 

The hearts who helped to free the slaves. 
Are shrined within a holier sphere. 
And crowned with more than kings can 
wear. 

Who show their pomp to flattering slaves. 

Rome though she had Triumvirates. 
Could not at Freedom's pealing calls, 
I \mass such mighty Generals, 
As we have done from diff'erent States. 

And he was one who ever fought 
For that just cause, men's Liberty. 
And onward, midst the battle's sea, 

They found him who his presence sought. 

The freed slave's joy was his reward ; 

Yet does our Nation add no praise? 

She crowns him with a hero's bays. 
Nor is it all she can afford. 

Our Unity gives greater thanks. 
Such thanks as are unspeakable ; 
For one who nobiy fought and well. 

Midst battle's weapon-bristling ranks. 

Peace to thy shade thou Warrior! 

Thy deeds thy sword hath longrenowned; 

Eternity shall find thee crowned. 
As many have been crowned before. 

Ere now he too hath taken stand. 
Among that glorious martial-throng ; 
Who aye shall live in Fame and Song, 

As Freedom's Chiefs of beauty's land ! 

O show in History's record 

Such names as can Columbia show ! 

Who to no clime brought w-aste or woe. 
But Liberty to man restored. 



HANCOCK. 

Gettvsbur^'s Hero now hath joined 
His hero-comrades in Denth's land; 
Drawn round him once again the band 

Of hearts for mighty purpose coined. 

His countrymen who knew his deeds. 
Sorrow that he so soon is gone ; 
To that unknown and mystic bourne. 

And Liberty wears mounung weeds. 



THE BATTLE. 

Like the storm-swollen rills. 

The foeman came down. 
Like the pines on the hills. 

From highland and town. 
From the woods and the mountains. 
O'er the Ocean's deep fountains; 

From everywhere round. 

Like the thunder's loud crashing. 

They met on the field. 
Like lightning swift- flashing. 

Did each a sword yield. 
The bullets were speeding. 
And many were bleeding. 

Yet none there would yield . 



88 



GRANT.— MYSTERY. 



Like the waters when driven 

Down vales in a flood ; 
Or showers from heaven, 

Flowed torrents of blood. 
Yet unconquered, thouijh dying, 
Undaunted, nor flying-, 

Each battle-rank stood. 

When war-steeds went charging, 

Loud echoed the plain. 
And ranks wide enlarging 

Filled up ne'er again. 
While many a noble warrior fell 
From his stallion, helping to swell 

The number of slain. 

Still column on column 
Went on with their marching. 

Their faces stern, solemn. 
And flrm-set lips parching. 

Still far in t'ne distance. 

Glimmered broad-ax and lance, 
Beneath heaven's arching. 

Torn banners were waving. 
With crimson-blood stained. 

And warriors death braving. 
Through missiles that rained. 

Friends, foeman, commingled ; 

And though each a foe singled, 
Yet nothing was gained. 

Brave leaders w'ere calling. 

To cheer on their ranks. 
And thousand forms falling. 

Piled higher the banks 
Of the dead and the dying. 
Who together were lying ; 

Their blood forming tanks 

Still on, though such thinning 

Of warriors began. 
Each charging none winning 

Each resolute van. 
Still cannon throats thundered. 
Still bosoms were sundered. 

And still the blood ran. 

Till purpling, the red sun 
Sunk down in the West. 
The day's battling done. 
They withdrew to resL 
They retired, 'twas only the rest of a 

night ; 
The morning arriving awoke them to 
rtght. 
Who conquered ? The best. 



GRANT. 



Not worth alone can glory-bind a name. 
But noblest deeds must add unto that 
worth; 
Thus did our Grant obtain the wreath of 
Fame, 
Which crowns him as a soldier-chief on 
earth. 



And nought of praise can now increase 
their lustre ; 
He died as he had lived devoid of fear. 
Death called the roll God's troops be- 
gan to muster; 
Grant answered low, and followed in the 
rear. 

He died 'tis true, since fated so to be ; 

And yet he lives as few alone will live. 
Within our Nation's lasting memory. 

The only glory Time to man can give. 



MYSTERY. 



Go weave a crown, however bright 

Tts flowers are in blushing bloom, 
They will be withered ere the light 

Of sunshine issue from the gloom. 
Are they not stainless in their growth, 

Are they not beautiful in form? 
And yet Time fades bloom, beauty, both; 

For what resists his blighting storm ? 

Go cast your eyes through all the space 

Of vastness, darkness, shroiiding round 
The ruggedness of Nature's face ; 

The silentness which doih abound. 
And see unnumbe ed planets roll 

Above thee in their measured course ; 
Each moving in a sublime whole. 

Resistless, boundless too. in force ! 

Time, '^pace. Eternity, are one ! 

Infinite in their mystic reign. 
Divinity, that first be.iiun 

The all which shall not end again ; 
Itself is infinite in Him, 

Sole Maker and Omnipotent ! 
An effulgence no gloom can dim. 

Surrounds and forms each element. 

Wondrous, majestic, and sublime 

In its formation ; we no less 
Can never pierce the veil of Time, 

Mysterious in mysteriousness ! 
And earthly destiny of life. 

Entombs alone the human frame ; 
The soul through all etherial strife. 

Exists, is deathless still the same ! 

Ask. wonder, nought would we yet 
know ; 

We are too frail to understand, 
Upon this rolling earth below. 

The Potency, the Mighty Hand, 
That shaped and willed this blooming 
earth 

Should have existence evermore. 
The blessedness of given birth. 

Should recompense us o'er and o'er! 



A STOLEN KISS.— "THOUGH JOY BE NOT. 



Mute, awed, astounded, we but feel 

The littleness of all we are. 
That tempest, time, or death, can steal ; 

Grief, or intensest woe can mar. 
And by our acts ourselves contemn, 

Destroying?, withei'ing, blighting youth; 
Thus tarnishing the only gem. 

Whose immortality is truth. 

We would not live, yet oft we crave 

Death come not soon or yet to late ; 
We laugh in mockery at the grave. 

And weep for bitterness at fate. 
Strugsrle still onward with a strength. 

That weakens with each passing hour ; 
Until pain-stricken, low at length. 

Our souls confirm a supreme Power! 



A STOLKN KISS. 

A stolen kiss, 

What rapture thrills 
The breast at this. 

A passion-thing. 

That swiftly flies 
On Cupid's wing. 

A fiery spark. 

On brow and face 
Leaving its mark. 

The woe of years. 
Dispersed awaj'' 
B.v joy it bears. 

It throbs the heart. 

The very soul 
Is forced to start. 

The crimson glow 

Of something felt 
In burning flow. 

A maiden's first 

Outpouring of love. 
Her heart's nest-burst. 

The throbbing joy. 

To l)ind two hearts 
Through time's annoy. 



"THOUGH JOY BE NOT. 

Though joy be not hope's fill 

Let music charm us still ; 

At night. 

When bright. 

The stars their beams distil. 



And every note, 

Will softly fioat 

Over valley, over hill ; 

Over fountain, over rill. 

Then repeat 

Each cadence sweet. 

Till our bosoms gladly thrill ; 

Till our heart itself seems still 

From the rapturous delight. 

When the sentinels of Ni^ht 

Have taken their silent place. 

In the azure's vaulted space. 

They say that music is given 

So the soul may dream of heaven ; 

And it is 

A holy bliss, 

To one who long hath striven 

To arise 

Past the skies. 

And in the calm of even. 

When clouds away are driven. 

And each star 

Glows afar. 

Like eternal lamps of hope; 

Ah then heaven's boundless scope, 

Will far more radiant seem 

Than the visions of a dream. 

Till we wonder if such a world as this 

Can be the end of biiss ! 

'Tis the intensest feeling 

That o'er us comes stealing ; 

When each strain, 

Each refrain 

Swells away, each note revealing 

A harmony of joy. 

No languishment can cloy. 

When souls their love are sealing. 

And blushes thus concealing. 

Ah then, ah then. 

Each sound again 

Will rouse a tenderer feeling ! 

Or a grander, like the pealing 

Of an organ's holy voice ; 

With its hyming music choice. 

Sounding in cathedrals old, 

Neath their arch of mossy n^ould ! 

The organs lofty tone. 

Peals heavenly alone. 

When slowly. 

And holily. 

Its anthems are upthrown 

Into the air; 

Solemnly and clear; 

Like a spirit's welling groan. 

Like a spirit's sobbing moan ! 

Till the breast 

Hath confest 

This is music's voice alone ; 

Divine music, heaven's own. 

So has it seemed to me ; 

Or like peans of the sea. 

When the flaming stars on high 

Roll sublimely through the sky! 



90 LEONTINE.— BELL IN THE SEA.— OCEAN.— GOING TO PRAYER. 



LEONTINE. 

Thou wast not made to die, 
Thou wast not made to live, 
My pallid being. 
Thou wast not made to sigh. 
Thou wast not made to give 
Pain, to those seeing 
Thy features very pale ; 
Those features very fair. 
Thy eyes so very bright. 
Thy hands so very white. 
Thou seemest like a veil, 
A cloud-veil in the air. 
Thou wast not made to bless^ 
Thou wast not made to kiss 
In such a world as this ; 
Radiant one of loveliness. 

Yes, thou art very still ; 
Yes, thou art very pure 
O pallid maiden ! 
Childishly beautiful 
Art thou, and joy secure 
Like flowers laden 
With shining gems of dew. 
In the golden glow of morn. 
Thou art not wont to stray 
By the meadow-side away. 
Thou art not wont to shew 
Thy features to the dawn. 
Thou art too wan to live long 
As spring-time roses sweet; 
Thy life is made as fleet 
As a simple choral song! 



THE BELL IN THE SEA. 

There is a bell beneath the sea 

Which loudly rings at mid of night ; 

And borne along with baneful glee. 
The sound has frozen souls from fright ; 

Though hidden in this bell from sight. 

'Tis many, many miles beneath 

The Ocean's raging waters ; 
And called, 'tis said the "Bell of Death.' 

For Neptune's syren daughters 
Count at each toll their luring slaughters, 

And when Storm the ruler of the waves 
Rushes fleixely from his thrones; 

The buried rise above their graves. 
And in wild and thrilling tones 

Fill the air with woeful moans ! 

While sailors wrecked upon the deep. 

As if by a soothing potion. 
Are gently, softly lulled to sleep. 

By this bell's unceasing motion ; 
And sink for aye beneath the ocean! 



THE OCEAN. 

stormy waters, heaving waves, 
O sunlit ocean, mighty deep ; 

How many in thy hidden caves 
Forever rest, forever sleep! 

1 love to see thy ruffled face. 
And high-majestic, massy brow, 

When thunders roll above thy space. 
And lightnings pierce thy ceaseless flow; 

And love to see the dreadful wings 
Of mighty winds fly o'er thy form ; 

When thegrufl-muttering Billow-kings 
Bold- war against the kings of storm. 

Then mountains quake, and from thy 
throne 

The Foam swift hurries on to aid 
The Billow-kings, who all alone. 

Before the Storm-kings fly dismayed. 

'Tis then thou hast a charm fo me 
Thou grand and undulating deep ; 

I would thy waves a shroud to be. 
When in my last eternal sleep. 

Thy music now doth soothe my breast. 
Thou emblem of man's life below ; 

For like thee mortals know no rest. 
Since human-tides must ebb and flow ! 



GOING TO PRAYER. 

The sun hath sunk to rest at last ; 
And twilight stealing all its bloom 
Hath shadow brought; like to a gloom 
Which darkeneth the olden past. 
But hark ! what chime awakes the air 
It is the bell which calls to prayer ! 

And clad in common dress and hood. 
With faces cahn. and Book secure ; 
The village folks from every door 
Issiie, and passing through the wood. 
Arrive to where the old church stands ; 
While the oi'gan peals to angel bands. 

Then slowly through the portal wide 
They enter, with a gentle smile. 
And passing down each narrow aisle 
Sit silently, and side by side. 
Then bow their heads, and lowly pray 
To Him beyond the azure-way. 

And then the solemn organ slow. 
Pours out an anthem grand and strong. 
Which finished, in a friendly throng 
Again they homeward- wending go, 
With bearts whose holy thoughts accord 
In praising the Almighty Lord ! 



ODE.-NIGHT. 



91 



ODE. 

O Liberty, men distant came 

To rear th}^ beauty-standard here ; 
The ardor that imbued each frame 

Was irrepressible to fear. 

War, famine, all, they held not dear, 
So long thy symbol waved 

In the air clear. 

And noble Washington, to thee 

Shall unborn nations yet give praise. 
The one who freed this land, as free 

As Home when in her mighty days. 

We wreathe thj^ name with glory's 
haze. 
And crown thy tomb 

With fadeless bays ! 

Thou wast the Chieftain of the bold. 
Who battled well on Freedom's plain. 

A hero, in whose fearless mould 
Was courage, such as men again 
Shall never know. Against the reign 

Of tyranny thy glorious cause 
Warred not in vain. 

In the deep valleys homes were made, 

By the broad ocean's waters too ; 
Near where high mountains cast a 
shade 

On all below so fair to view. 

The very air seemed to imbue 
The strength of the old world, 

To this the new. 

Nursed in these climes those sons be- 
came 
Another race of Hercules ; 
And when men tried to stain with 
shame 
Their Freedom from ac-ossthe'seas. 
They warred with them, nor did they 
cease. 
Till conquering all enjoyed 
Their Liberty with ease. 

Thxis Liberty we gained serene; 

As men have called the saintly right 
Of being what few such have been. 

True freemen in Our Freedom's might. 

'Tis echoed by the loftiest height 
Of mountain peaks again. 

In loud delight ! 

Perpetual ages shall have cast 

Their mantle over Time's rude brow ; 
But Liberty will to the last 

Still bloom in loveliness as now. 

And monarehs too shall then avow 
The beauty of her form. 

When they are fallen low, 



NIGHT. 

Seductive joys. 

Fond pleasure's toys 

For me you hold no charms. 

Far more the gloom, 

The studious room ; 

Retired from all alarms 

Of day's turmoil, n)y bosom please. 

And give my thoughts restoring ease. 

For me the nis/ht 

Hath moi-e delight 

Than all the charms of day. 

When shadows dim, 

Bring evening's hymn. 

To soothe our cares away. 

And melody that haunts the woods, 

Upon the entranced ear entrudes. 

When lunar beams. 

Upon the streams 

Float sparkling to the shore. 

And through the vale, 

The nightengale 

Trills sweet his plaintive lore. 

The mind doth then with ravished soul. 

Arise beyond Reason's control. 

And Fancy bright, 

With purest light 

Will deck the trees anew. 

Herself combine 

To make them shine. 

And glimmer with the dew. 

While round and round with graceful mien, 

Fair spirits frolic on the green. 

Then Night arrive. 

And forward drive 

Thy ebon girded steeds. 

Until thy car 

Will pass the star. 

Which on Neptune's bosom bleeds. 

Until thy presence hush the earth. 

From sounds of revelry and mirth. 

Life's scene presents 

Presentiments, 

That fill the soul with fear. 

But thou wilt quell. 

And soon dispel. 

Such thoughts of sorrow drear. 

And Stygian caves in thy domain. 

Will echo back their praise again. 

While Day doth sleep. 

You sadly weep 

At what the earth has done. 

Until the morn. 

And rosy dawn. 

Is ushered by the sun. 

Then while you haste the forest? through. 

The flowers revive beneath thy dew. 



92 



DAY.—" TAKE THIS TEAR." 



Then come fair Night, 

And bless my sight 

Like angels I have seen 

Thy form upliold, 

Thy wings unfold. 

O'ei' mountain plain and green. 

And I until the dawn of Day, 

Will fondly kiss thy tears away. 



DAY, 



Hail, dawning Day, 
That like the spray 

Dashing upon the earth ; 
With golden looks. 
Through darkest nooks 

Gives clearest radiance birth. 
Night may possess a mighty reign. 
But against thee her power is vain. 

The din of toil. 
Along the soil. 

Is heard at thy sweet dawn. 
And birds upspring. 
To loudly sing. 

On grassy vales and lawn. 
They cheer the laborer, that he may 
Drink of Life's melody on his way. 

The open fields, 
What Nature yields. 

In various growth produce. 
And flowers and trees. 
And laden bees. 

Cheer up the grove's recluse. 
And give to earth a gentler cast. 
The Future's cheer the veil of Past. 

The ocean wide. 
The mountain's side. 

Each variegated scene ; 
Full space supply. 
From earth to sky. 

To show thy dazzling sheen : 
Tliough Night can sooth the earth with 

Thy wreathed smile more bright appears. 

The castle high. 
The cottage nigh. 

Alike receive thy glow. 
The poor and rich, 
Or ought of such. 

Alike thy splendor know. 
Some heavy minds may make thee dark 

as night. 
But thou appearest gloriously bright. 

The sun, thy sire, 
With ravs of fire 
Shines down from high above. 



The rocky isle. 
The mossy pile. 

Receive his beams of love. 
By he and thou, so bright ari-ayed, 
Are.Nature's beauteous charms displayed. 

The streams and lakes. 
Thy smile awakes ; 

The highland and the sea. 
The frozen zones, 
Cold Boreu's thrones. 

Bow lowly down to thee. 
And thus from distant pole to pole, 
Thy splendor doth majestic roll. 

The seasons four. 
From winter hoar 

To Autumn's golden while ; 
Successive appear. 
Alike to cheer 

The laborer at his toil. 
Their horny hands pluck from the earth, 
'J'he fruits, that by thy help had birth. 

Then come bright Day, 
Univ^ersal sway ; 

Awake the slothful hours 
That night supplies ; 
Though she denies 

Her presence midst thy bowers. 
How dark and cheerless is her dusky 

reign. 
How fair and glorious is thy domain. 



"TAKE THIS TEAR." 

O take thou this tear, 'tis affection's fond 
tribute, 
A messenger frozen of hopeless love ; 
Like myself too 'tis silent and silently mute. 
Sparkling brighter than petals of dew 
from above. 

And place the pure gem in some embossed 
casket 
Where memory may gaze for a moment's 
sad cheer; 
Or better by far in thy eyes' rays to bask it. 
Till it melt as my heart hath oft done for 
you dear. 

'Tis unmixed with the taint and pollution 
of sin. 
Though 'tis shackled in bands of its w^oe 
and despair; 
'Tis a star of hope faded, outpoured from 
within 
A heart overburned by sorrow and care. 



LIFE IS A DREAM. 



9:$ 



'Tis an elixir mixed crystal of fondest af- 
fection. 
Which Love's passion-chalice produced 
by his art ; 
'Tis a sad recollection, in life's retrospec- 
tion. 
Of dream-haunting: days which can never 
depart. 

O take thou this gen\ Compassion's bright 
semblance, 
That mutely speaks my soul's ardor sin- 
cere ; 
Clothed in veil of crystallized radiance, 
It seemeth more yet than a sorrow-born 
tear. 

Yea take the small dew'-drop on Ihy lily 
breast. 
And try to dissolve it. to dim its pure 
glow ; 
And see if love's grief-beam succumbs to 
the test. 
Or remains tirmly true to its sorrow and 
woe. 



LIFE IS A DREAM. 

We are but phantoms of a strange, strange 
dream. 

Within the sleep of Life. For when we 
live. 

It is not an existence but a dream ; 

From which the awakening may be joy or 
pain. 

According to the nature of our thoughts. 

Which people this Jiving dream with ima- 
ges ; 

At which the weakest tremble, and the 
bold 

Look not unflinching, but confess a fear, 

A fear unpalpable though as surely felt. 

Why do we live? men wonder. And for 
what? 

Hath man a purpose in his existence ? 

And doth existence only end in death ? 

And do we live for death, or live for life? 

Or living live but to be torturing 

Our very thoughts by the existing thought. 

Uncomprehending what is existence? 

So man gains wisdoms yet he learneth 
nought. 

For if our eyes were opened and we saw 

Things in their true reality, we would not 
live. 

Nor curse this life, for then it would be 
nought. 

The dream would fade away and Truth re- 
place 

In semblance with its own diviner form. 

And we would not be tortured with the 
fear 

Of a hereafter, for it would not come. 



Time would be speedless and immutable. 

And yet eternally exist the same. 

Time would not mock us with its passing 

hours. 
Revolving into days, and months, and 

years. 
And centuries, till history followed Time. 
And in that history past ages' wrecks we 

saw. 
Such as revealed on Egypt's mystic soil. 
On boundless sites of Asiatic wastes. 
For time is old, his youth was long ago. 
If he had youth, which may be doubted 

still. 
Yet in this life of which I spake before, 
There would but be perpetuality. 
And endlessness, yet not \inconsciousness. 
There would be joy— more— ecstacy and 

bliss, 
A sorrow lo g:rieve deeper yet the soul 
Than in Lif e s dream. And woe, forever 

woe 
To those who had profanely rebelled. 
With a rebelling spirit at no cause 
But that of life; they deeming it still life. 
And in their supposition are deceived; 
And in ttieir comprehension are deceived ; 
Ana in their immortality they find 
The truth of this ; for all things have a 

truth. 
Created when Creation had its birth 
By the Creator, who is Truth Himself. 
And therefore is He all things and is 

Truth ! 
In the infinity of air's space, 
Where realms are wandering, peopled like 

our own. 
And like our own thriving in unbelief. 
And like ourselves thirsting for knowledge 

more. 
When knowledge is not but is yet to be. 
Such knowledge as we yearn for to posess. 
They too exist, blinded by e/otism. 
For man's own God is not as God Himself, 
Who is Himself essentially eterne : 
And in Himself essentially the same. 
For man's divinity is not a God, 
But a mortal man divinely conceived. 
Or an immortal essence so conceived 
In his mortality of existence. 
Where then, some ask, is Happiness? The 

seat 
A nd throne of the Almighty ? Look above. 
And if ye see aught there but beauteous- 

ness. 
And everywhere within the Universe 
But beauteousness. gloriously glorified. 
Then can ye reason with thyself and ask 
Where the Almighty dwelieth, not before. 
Is Life then not a dream when we can look 
Back to the past and still retain its form ? 
Except where faithless memory is obscured. 
And in obscurity retains no shape. 
For ye cannot protract this fitful dream 
But as each day ye wake and see anew 



94 



LIFE IS A DREAM. 



Another day. which j^esterday was not. 
That yesterday the world pleads for return. 
And echo answers, "It hath long returned 
Returned to its eternity eterne !" 
And therefore, all according to one's self, 
For each mind's essence hath its different 

thoughts, 
Wherefroin the dream hath birth and airy 

form. 
Do some yearn for a coming morrow. 
Unthinkingly for it may never come. 
At least to them and many of the same. 
These are the ones who in their dreams see 

hope. 
And joys to be where all had been despair. 
But others there are who thmk not with 

such thoughts. 
Their thoughts are darkened and they 

cast a film, 
A film of gloominess o'er what they see. 
Which makes them shudder for the future 

dim. 
These then would seek what they call 

death eterne, 
Imagining that death is end of all. 
When it is but the awakening of the dream. 
The dream of our existence ; and the wak- 
ing 
Or eternality of joy or woe. 
Woe is the punishment He hath decreed 
For those whose sins unpardonable are. 
Except by deep repentance and remorse. 
For some are so blasphemous in their soul 
That Heaven's purity would be stained by 

their presence. 
But cleansed by Repentance, sinless then, 
They may so enter the eternal gates, 
Division between earth and Paradise ; 
The dissolvation of our life's sad dream. 
The glorious dawning of a golden Real. 
I have known two men such, though earth 

hath more. 
One old and gray. So withered was his 

face. 
And parched his skin, and dried to copper 

hue ; 
Being imbrowned beneath fierce torrid 

suns 
That the blood showed beneath, bloodless 

almost. 
And his thin limbs scarce propped his 

fleshless form. 
His bony hands scarce could retain the 

staff. 
His sole support o'er many a weary road. 
His eyes near sightless, were sunk in his 

head. 
Having shrunken in their sockets long ago. 
His head was bare, except few straggling 

h^irs 
Of purest snow, still clinging to the crown. 
Yet oft in trembling voice and piping. 
Weaker than youthful babe, to me he 

spake ; 
' Midst many a cough and hacking in his 

throat ; 



'Midst many a stop to gain desirous breath ; 

With which to further pursue the discourse. 

'Midst many a shivering of his warmthless 
frame ; 

Of all the sweets of life as they are deemed. 

Of all his hopes yet many years to live : 

Of all life had denied him", that would yet 

Come to his hoary self. For he had hopes. 

And hoping, we can live. Yet on a morn 

His soul had fled, befitting well his age. 

He was no more a dreamer in Life's sleep. 

The other was a yoiith in bloom of health, 

Summer upon his cheeks, and Summer's 
roses. 

Wich all the promises of life before him. 

Of mated happiness with one who loved 
him. 

Yet he despaired, and why I know me not; 

For he hart riches at his heart's command. 

And he had fi'iends to mingle with and 
prate. 

Who honeyed him with words of sweet 
affection. 

So on his bounty they might always feed. 

He was not Timon surely, yet he came 

To know the truth and mockery of this ; 

He knew the selfishness of all his friends. 

Nay, shall I say it. also she who vowed 

She loved him only for the sake of Love. 

For gold's sweet sake most truly he dis- 
cerned. 

And looking into his heart he read within 
j That what he wished for could not be ob- 
tained : 

Nor his ambitions could be realized. 

And wished himself a pauper that he 
might 

Struggle for bread as others had to do. 

Poorer than he. And then he prayed for 
death. 

Which would not come, for his time was 
not yet. 

Thus he dreamt on in Life's despairing 
sleep. 

Through years of agony and stricken hope ; 

That tortured him and goaded him to mad- 
ness ; 

That frenzied him beyond human despair. 

Till recklessly did he attempt to take 

That life of his, which was but Nature's 
gift. 

And failing in this, did he try again. 

And failed again. For there were Higher 
Powers 

Decreeing he should live, that he might 
see 

The end of his sad dream and suffer too. 

That when the awakening came it woiild 
be sweeter. 

And a more blissful one. And then he died. 

Found death at last who always wished for 
death. 

He died, they say, a broken-hearted man. 

Such is (iod's will and such we must obey. 

Why is man made to mourn I It is a fate 



I LOVE HER.— BACCHANTE. 



Which follows him like winds the restless 

sea; 
Making him as restless by its sorrow. 
Dispersing to his bosom nought but woe : 
From which yet consolation is obtained. 
'Midst all the world's existing populace. 
One purpose is predominant, one will, 
And he who wills each one's mortality, 
Maketh distinction 'twixtthe good and not. 
For 'tis the torture that racks the human 

frame 
After the mind itself is overcast. 
That makes this life unbearable. 
And yet man mourns but for degenerate 

passions. 
Used in an evil hour for basest purposes. 
Which now return to him to wreak their 

vengeance. 
He the sole cause and instigator. 
He the presumptuous and more than vain ; 
In his pride mightier than God himself. 
Aye looking upward as did Vathek once ; 
Or they who built Babylon, that mighty 

tower 
Purposed to be a stepping stone to heaven. 
For sacrilegous men, ambitious kings. 
Yet framed of nought but dust or better 

clay. 
For dust could not return to dust, it being 

dust; 
But clay, mouldering in the confines of a 

tomb, 
But dust becomes after a certain time. 
Though Fate is unrelenting it is not 
As avaricious as we are ourselves. 
Boasting superiority o'er animal kind. 
Yet being slaves to every wanton pleasure ; 
Cringing in horror at the thought of death. 
Could we but learn to give great gratitude. 
From our spirit chanting such a hymn. 
To that Sole God who did create us all, 
His indignation would grow less and less. 
His love which is eternal, would increase. 
Till man supremely blessed would bless 

Him more. 
But instigated by a spirit of disdain, 
With no thought of repentance or remorse, 
Man and his fellowman, one class in all, 
Blasphemeously avow themselves supreme 
O'er things existing and o'er things eterne. 
For their presumption are those beings 

punished. 
For his presumption is man made to mourn. 
Though this is fate, who says it is unjust? 
Not can the righteous if such they are. 
Then reverentially upturn thy eyes 
And if ye cannot pray, curse not thy God, 
And if ye would but live, live not to die. 



That my soul is centered on a being full of 
womanly tenderness ? 

She to whom my thoughts forever point as 
points the needle to the star ; 

She whom life hath graced as only graced 
your temple-angels are. 

She in wh m I can discern the charming 
innocence of youth ; 

Through the glances she bestowed me see 
Iier purity aid truth. 

She in whom the Graces moulded their ide- 
al ty of art, 
I Created her a Jiving beauty, beautiful in 
every part ; 

She in whom each sweet expression finds 
its cadences and sounds. 

Like a full and complete cboral with all 
grand, melodious bounds ; 

She in whom the angel is predominating 
over earth. 

Till she seems beyond an earthly being in 
her radiant worth. 

She in whom I he brightest feeling, bright- 
est beauty brightly gives. 

She it is I love forever, and in whom my 
spirit lives. 

Yes, I love her ! Well what of it ? Is your 
world akin to mine ? 

When our loves together mingle on an un- 
polluted shrine. 

Your world is a world of sorrow. Mine by 
an essential change. 

Full of gladness and of sunshine, where 
my buoyant fancies range. 

Earth a Paradise becometh, if you people 
it at best 

W ith such radiant, perfect, spiritual beings, 
beautifully blessed. 

With God's glory and His lustre defined in 
her glowing eyes ; 

Like a million gleams of amber concentra- 
ted in the skies. 

With Gods aspect, as imagined, shining 
on her virgin face; 

With Love's ardor fused, infusing ; mellow- 
ing each living grace. 

With her aspirings and yearnings linked to 
an infinite hope 

For a blissful future endless, as you azure 
curtained scope. 

So I love her as she loves me ; finding love 
enough for both 

In this mystical existence ere we seek a 
higher troth. 



I LOVE HER. 

Yes, I love her! Well, what of it? Is it 
folly to confess 



BACCHANTE. 

Like a glittering mass of rubies. 
In Love's golden chalice minted, 

Purple-colored, rosy-tinted ; 
So this glowing wine scintillant. 
Radiantly to me it seemeth. 

Million eyes of splendor beameth. 



96 



O HAD I KNOWN."— TO SYBYL. 



See how sparklingly and brightly, 
In this golden crested beaker 

Now It floweth ; 
And thou laughest. 
As thou quatfest ; 

Thou that loves delightment knoweth. 

See how vividly it blendeth 
As I pour it. How ascendeth 

High my spirits at its warming ; 
Heavenly, spiritual creatures. 
Beautifully, radiant features. 

Are my soul intensely charming. 

Thou art smiling, ever sipping 
Such a nectar from the vintage 

Of god Bacchus, my Bacchante ! 
My Bncchante ! whose soft lipping 
Accents sweeter are than ever 
Those of Beatrice to Dante. 



What a bright ecstatic virion. 
Beautifully beyond measure. 

Thou art to my senses bringing. 
Where the fairies of Elysian, 
Dwelling in supernal pleasure 

Are forever dancing, singing. 

As if Sirens could entrance me 
My Bacchante, thou beside me ; 

Quaffing with me, thinking of me 
Never my glad spirit seeketh 
Better joy than when thou speaketh 

Murmuringly, thou dost love me ! 

So thy glorious eyes seem closing. 
Like two brilliant stars reposing 
'Neath a pinky cloud of lashes; 
Let me clasp thee, press thee, kiss thee. 
Any thought disdains to miss thee. 
Even as the nectar flashes. , 

Let thy dazzling arms embrace me, 
With those bands of Venus grace me, 

O, deliciousness and rapture ! 
Never yet a soul had risen 
From such an ecstatic prison. 

Freed himself from such a capture. 

Quaff thou ever, rarest, fairest ; 
Quaff as Love our couch preparest. 

Gorgeously purple woven. 
Brightest, richest, peerless, sweetest ; 
While the instruments completest 

Pour forth fancies from Beethoven. 



Let the gods of high Olympus, 
Sleep away the sleep of ages 

In some poet's sorrow ; 
Quaff my only, my Bacchante ! 
My Bacchante, quaff forever ! 

Love says there is no to-morrow. 



"O HAD I KNOWN." 

O, had I known the throbbing joy 
That comes from Love's impassioned 
feeling, 

I could at least obtain alloy 
P^om sorrows now over me stealing! 

O, had I known the virgin bliss. 

The sacred thoughts of lovers tender ; 
Or had I felt love's thrilling kiss. 

My life would have more joys to render 

O had I clasped with fervid hands 
Another pair that gave sweet pressure! 

Far brighter would I think time's sands. 
Though they did pass with swifter 
measure. 

O had I known the soulful glance 
That comes alone in love's believing ; 

Some unseen charm would soon enhance 
These days of woe and their deceiving. 

But no, these joys are all denied. 

Alas ! for boasted gladness ! 
Since I must live, and live beside 

In melancholy sadness. 



TO SYBYL. 

I am not craving for the love 
Which thou dost give to others ; 

But let this heart its passion prove. 
Which now my bosom smothers. 

I am not yearning for the gaze 
Which thou away art throwing; 

But turn thy eyes to my eye's blaze, 
With passion-fervid glowing. 

I am not panting for the smiles 

To many so endearing. 
But see how e'en thy frown beguiles 

My heart to tender cheering. 

I am not aching for the kiss 

Thy lips on others pressing; 
To me it seems enough of bliss 

To love thee, though in guessing. 

I do not wish to clasp thy breast 

In fondest love's embracing. 
But am I not like all the rest? 

My features like their faces ? 

And if thou canst spare looks and smiles. 

And kisses for so many ; 
O give my heart a few, few trials, 

'Tis just as good as any. 



TO DAHLIA.— TO AMERICA.— THE SOUL.— GOOD NIGHT. 97 



TO DAHLIA. 

Too late, too late, O Dahlia now ! 
To hope, to wish, to ask, to pray. 
What is it you would have ine vow ? 
AViiat is it you would have me say? 

'Twere vain to sorrow for the past, 
'Tis vain to sigh for it again ; 
Alas ! that love should sunder last 
What seemed to be a sacred chain. 

Forgive me if thou canst forgive ; 
Forget nie if thou canst forget; 
For henceforth we must ever live 
As strangers that have never met. 



TO AMERICA. 

Those men are gone who gave thee fame. 
Such as few other climes can claim ; 
Succumbing to Death's endless lust, 
They hut survive in thoughts and dust. 
Yet still rejoice and be content, 
Thy Freedom is their monument. 

Those heroes died, it was the last 
Of men who glorified the past ; 
Of men whose deeds immortal are, 
Of men whose names now echoed far 
In other climes ; in other days 
Were syllabled with glorious praise. 

Old Ocean well can boast the land 
That gave such men as these command. 
That gave command to men whose zeal. 
Was ever for the Common weal : 
And dying, left behind their worth, 
A legacy to Freedom's earth. 

What thou hast lost, how thou hast bled, 
Are records buried with the dead ; 
What thou hast gained is soon displayed. 
Thy Liberty is lasting made. 
What thou art still, let millions tell, 
Who live for thee and for thy well. 

Thy lovely soil has nurtured men 
Whose like cannot exist again ; 
Whose spirit glowed with martial fire. 
Which raised their souls sublimely higher ; 
Who in each act. each noble deed ; 
Eternalized the Land they freed. 

Though ended is that mighty time, 
When Liberty with voice sublime, 
Awoke, from far and near, the men 
Who battled for her gl ry then, 
Not dead nor do these feelings rest ; 
They sleep but to prepare for test. 



What though those brave of old are low, 
With glory's wreath around their brow ; 
True sentinels of Right we keep 
Around these freemen souls asleep ; 
Let other nations scorn thy power 
And their own valor wars with Our. 



THE SOUL. 

When Life leaves this poor mortal clay. 
Where does the spirit-soul depart ; 

As winged for flight it speeds away. 
Much swifter than the lightnings dart ? 

Does it survive above the sphere. 
Of this fair earth in living gloom ; 

Or like the frame decay from here. 
And seek its own eternal tomb? 

Or does it, clad in glorious light. 
Shine brighter than the sapphire's blaze 

Within a world beyond our sight. 
Beyond the red sun's fiery rays? 

Does it recall with trickling tears 

Its body and its sad decay ; 
Its mighty thoughts, its thrilling fears. 

Which with its death were winged away 

Or wanders it throughout the space 
Of vastness, which encircles all 

The darkling realms, and try to trace 
Each planet in its star-lit hall ? 

Alas ! who can, who can dissolve 
The mists that shroud its after-fate ? 

Its fate is fixed in one resolve. 
To seek it whether soon or late. 

Forbear then man to pierce the cloud 
Which obscures all Futurity. 

And be thy head surmissive bowed, 
For things that are must ever be. 

But yet if man will have belief. 
How glorious is the thonght that we. 

In life, though suffering much of grief. 
Through death find immortality. 



GOOD NIGHT. 

Good-Night, good-night, and can the night 
Be a good-night when from thy side? 
Good night good night, I hate the night, 
Since thy sweet presence is denied. 



CHILDREN.— COURAGE.— " NOT MEN.' 



Lonely, sad, and pregnant with my grief. 
Is the still night away from thee. 
Two souls that live with but one fond belief. 
When bid good-night can never happy be. 

Good night again, and oh ! that word 
With interrupting sighs do I let fall 
The sweetest good night that I ever heard 
Is, when we never bid good night at all. 



CHILDREN. 

C hildren ! What are they ? 

Some heartless beings ask. 
Too weak to mingle in Life's fray. 

Or bear its heavy task. 

They are the bud of Truth, 
The good and pure of Time ; 

And blossom forth to noble youth, 
Or men with deeds sublime. 

They are the joy of life. 
The hopes of all its morn ; 

To cheer their parents injthe strife, 
When downcast and forlorn. 

They bear high chastity's impress 
Upon their rosy features ; 

And are in all their happiness. 
Earth's only angel-creatures. 



COURA.GS. 



You would not linger here and live 
Since Life is worthless, nought. 

Has Life then only Death to give ? 
Oh, banish such a thought. 

You would not linger here and slave, 

To toil for life alone. 
And yet you fear to seek the grave. 

What hast thou to^atone ? 

But he who daily doth arise 
With joyous hopeful heart; 

Ask him and see what he replies ; 
What life hath to impart. 

Deeds glorious and acts sublime 

To be achieved and done. 
Life's battles on the plains of Time, 

With courage must be won. 

It is not fear will win the crown, 

Nor even hope will do ; 
But Truth alone will bring it down 

From Heaven unto you. 



And like some stars we emulate 
For radiance which they give. 

So let the lives of noble gi'eat 
Show thee how thou shouldst live. 



"NOT MEX." 

Not men who live but for the sake of dying 

Our Country needs ; though all at last 
must die. 

But men whose lives, all others lives out- 
vying. 

Will live for men, yet themselves glorify. 

Not men whose days are passed in listless 
yearning. 

Nor men whose arms are weak for cause of 
Right; 

But men who will, their country's love re- 
turning. 

Boast not their power or degrade their 
might. 

Not men who, their own countrymen op- 
pressing. 

Still dare to shame the Freedom of our 
Land, 

By glorious praise of Liberty's fair blessing, 

When they themselves against her raise 
a hand. 

But men like those who at one call up- 
springing. 

Who at one crj^, with sublime ardor glowed ; 

And though like eagles, their thoughts 
highly winging. 

Their arms add hearts to this fair clime be- 
. stowed. 

Like those whose will moulded by hero 
feeling. 

Warred for a cause which we have cause 
to bless. 

Like those which Time then gloried in re- 
vealing 

To one young nation weak in helplessness. 

Look back to them they shed o'er desola- 
tion, 

The pure effulgence of an inner power. 

They were the sons, the might of Free- 
dom's nation. 

The later Brutus of a greater hour. 

Look back to them whose influence is fill- 
ing 

Our breasts to-day, though they are lowly 
laid. 

Such men as these America is willing 

Should rise again, should be again dis- 
played. 



WHAT PERISHETH ?-COLUMBIA. 



99 



These were the men who made Columbia's 

story 
The spotless pap:e which History doth 

record ; 
These were the men who nurtured by 

their f?lory, 
The Liberty which we have since adored. 



WHAT PERISHETH? 

What perisheth? within myself I askerl. 
Do the sweet flowers in the sunshine 

basked. 
Their bloom unfolding as along we pass. 
While early songsters chant their choral 

mass ; 
Each massive tree which springs from 

hidden roots 
To bear its yield of Summer-ripened 

fruits, 
Fair Nature too, she who hath given 

birth 
To all things beautiful upon the earth 
And Nature's subjects do they otherwise, 
Or perish also like the ether-sighs? 
What perisheth? 

What perisheth? the night whose spark- 
ling robe 

Curtains the slumberers upon this globe: 

The thunderbolts which peal along the 
sky ; 

The star seen falling from the blue on 
high ; 

The day-dawn glorious, and then the day, 

Which like an angel guides us on our way; 

The various beasts, the plumy- winged of 
air. 

The ocean's multitude of wonders there. 
What perisheth? 

What perisheth? do Innocence and Truth, 
The joys of childhood and the hopes of 

youth; 
Manhood's endearments, and the fears of 

age. 
The soldier's glory, and the poet's page. 
The monuments of art, the shrines of 

fame, 
The rolling ocean, and the mountain's 

frame ; 
Time's horologue of many million years. 
The firmament with all its flaming 

spheres. 
What perisheth ? 
A soft voice answers "Death !" 

Again I questioned, " How can perish 

Death, 
When He, our Saviour at Nazareth, 
With the thorn-coronal around his brow. 
A crucifixion from his foes did know ; 



Then resurrection by the will of God, 
Who raised his spirit and his mould of 

sod; 
And for the sins absolved of men's amiss. 
Gave him an eternality of bliss. 
It cannot surely then be death 
W hich perisheth ? 

And yet it is but death which perisheth ; 
The dearest thing a mortal cherisheth 
Must be torn from him by this one decree. 
Which is to all of us a mystery. 
Himself must perish at the fatal time. 
At childhood's blissfulness or manhood's 

prime ; 
Or when Age whitens all his scanty hairs, 
And on his countenance ploughs lines of 

cares. 
For all things perisheth which perish 

must 
Nor rise again from dust. 

'Tis the soul only never knoweth death, 

'Tis the soul only never perisheth. 

It is immortal and immutable. 

Unchanging in whatever form it dwell. 

Eternal, everlasting, it remains 

The giver of man's happiness or pains; 

Striving to guide him in the righteous 

path 
By showing all the bliss which Virtue 

hath ; 
It is his pilot on Life's stormy sea. 
Yet leaving him his will and reason free. 
'Tis not the soul then, it is death 
Which perisheth. 



COLUMBIA. 

Columbia, glorious country. 

And haven of the free ; 
How many unknown heroes 

Have fought and died for thee. 
How many now, around them 

All weepingly we tread ; 
Since thou with joy hath crowned them, 

These true, heroic dead. 

Thy freedom and thy glory. 

Thy beauty and thy fame ; 
Are wreaths not transitory. 

Around thy holy name. 
The banner which above the. 

Floats grandly in the air, 
Can tell thee how we love thee. 

The love for thee we bear. 

And those who helped to free thee. 
When thou wast in thy youth ; 

Oh, would that they could see thee. 
Now fair in very truth. 



100 



THE ETERNAL SPIRIT.— HIGH THOUGHTS. 



Oh. would they could behold thee. 
Who fought for thee and died. ; 

The beauties which enfold thee. 
The glories beautified. 

The patriotic valor. 

The fortitude aud. zeal 
Of men who knew no pallor, 

AVhose hearts were ti rm as steel. 
The soldiers and the sages 

Who loved thee and were thine; 
These freed thee from the rages 

Of tj' ranny supine. 

The struggles and the fury. 

The courage and the deeds ; 
The battle ranks of glory, 

The thunder charge of steeds ! 
The n)addening commiijgling 

Of these with Freedom's foes 
The charging and the singling 

Of enemies midst those. 

Forever and forever 

Will rise the triumph-peal, 
For heroes whose endeavor 

Destroyed the tyrant zeal. 
Which chain(!d thee and depressed thee 

Upon this lovely earth. 
Ah ! heroes we nave blessed thee, 

And all thy valor-worth ! 

And he who was Commander 

Of ail these noble men, 
A chieftain greater, grander. 

Yet never lived till then. 
The battle-psalm which praises 

His greatness and his worth, 
Revealeth and displays us 

A star of Freedom's earth. 



THE ETERNAL SPIRIT. 

A spirit merged from out the Chaos-deep ; 

A spirit clomb upon the hignest steep ; 

A spirit winged through all the spaceless 

skies ; 
This was theprimalday, thedawn of Time ; 
The bloom of things, the universal youth. 
And now this spirit gloriously sublime. 
And transcendental in his heavenli' truth. 
Remains unseen to Wisdom's mortal eyes. 

Is then vacuity a senseless space ? 

And immortality a mystic-grace? 

A fancy-fold which mortal ones did weave? 

Are we existing in a pure inane : 

Soul-essence nothingness, and thought a 
spark, 

Bliss, sorrow, but a dream, and hope a 
pain? 

Wisdom illumine this compassing dark. 

Doubts are but griefs and why should hu- 
mans grieve ? 



"Eternal spirit of eternal things. 
Eternal spirit of Imaginings, 
Substance-reality, not phantom-shape ; 
That was, that is, unknown, unseen, yet 

sought, 
O madly sought, and yearningly desired. 
Too high for earth, too mystical for thought. 
Descend to us, let some one be inspired ; 
Some poet being in thj' glory drape ! 



HIGH THOUGHTS. 

O to be conscious of things beautiful. 

The holy beauty that in Nature lies. 

And to be conscious of a Supreme Power, 

By whose High Will we are thus compre- 
hensible ; 

And not unfeelingly and not despairing, 

And not unjoyful in the saddest hour ; 

And not unhopeful and undaring. 

To reach above those azure-curtained skies. 

Beyond those liquid stars of night, 

Whose mellifluent streams 

Of ever radiant and translu' ent beams, 

Are shed upon us in warm luscient light. 

By that unfading brilliancy whose nearness 

By that rapsodic melody whose clearnes.s. 

Hymns to the soul in resonanted strains ; 

Echoing o'er the calm etherial plains. 

By the empyrean glow of holiness 

In heaven's heavenly loneliness. 

Passing to golden towers. 

In Paradise lands ; 

Where angel powers. 

And archangel bands. 

Exist eternally around the throne 

Of the Almighty and Supreme alone. 

At thoiights of these we feel a sacred 
thrill. 

At thoughts of these, high and most beau- 
tiful. 

Whose sacredness above. 

Cx'owns us with eternal love. 

The heart its littleness confesses; 

And ought but purest thoughts represses. 

For these do chide the things we fear 

Of dread or death to those most dear ; 

Most precious to our breast. 

Who by infinite good are blest. 

The loftiest thoughts are those which deem 

our life 
Not all in vain; the blissful eloquence 
To recom pence us in the earthly strife. 
O purity, oh chastity of good. 
And virginess of love not understood. 
This the soul feels with rapture too Intense, 
Ah ! holy thoughts may cheer the darkest 

spirit 
And sorrow brooding ever near it. 
What beauty hath the stillness of clear 

even 
For then the soul wings its thoughts high 

to heaven 



THE PAST.-THE DAY IS DEAD.-DIFFERENCE.-ENVY. 101 



What joy-ministrants 

Are those triumphant chants; 

Those fjlorious melodies of tones, 

Round heaven'o saphire-thrones. 

The hohness and prayer of Nature, all 

Our bosom doth enthrall. 

And sky, and earth, and more which we 
behold. 

Breathe to us godliness of things ; 

Hold with our soul communings. 

By their own mystic potency untold. 

How supremely blessed 

Is man, earths guest. 

To look on things so beautiful ; 

And to be comorehcnsible. 

And not like other living beings, mutely 
to adore 

That which is evermore. 

Of Wisdom can our mind be satiated? 

For goodness can His power be compensa- 
ted ? 

Who gave to man all this, 

Joy and purest bliss ; 

And happiness uncomprehended. 

Till life on earth be ended. 

Hymn to Him then in highest thoughted 
lore 

Hymn to that One Supreme forevermore 

Jehovah the Almighty and our JiOrd 

Show Him he is adored. 



THE PAST. 

Look back not to the lapse of years ; 

For 'tis a cloqdy view. 
The hopeful thoughts, the woeful fears. 
All ended at the last in tears, 

Of joy and sorrow too. 

Look back not to the youthful past. 

It is a childhood age. 
Bit let thy thoughts be forward cast ; 
Attempt to scroll thy name at last 

On glory's spotless page. 

Look back not to the wrecks of Time, 

That strew the wantom air. 
For Truth is now as thought sublime. 
As it was once in Greece's clime ; 
And laural crowns as green to wear. 
As then were wreathed there ! 



The day is dead ! 
And night decended on the plain, 
Marcheth in front of all the train, 

With solemn tread. 

The day is dead ! 
And high above the ebon clouds. 
Have formed the pall which gloomily 
shrouds 

His golden head. 

The day is dead ! 
And stars that light the funeral march. 
Now passing 'neath Heaven's vasty arch. 

Seem strangely red. 

The day is dead ! 
The winds are sobbing in mournful tune. 
For the calm beine- that will soon 

Be buried. 

The day is dead ! 

At last the Western steeps are made. 

The sad requiem lowly said 
For the spirit fled. 

The day is dead! 
Yawns wide the dark and dampy gloom 
Which overhangs his nightly tomb, 

His tomb of dread. 

The day is dead ! 
But he did not die as humans must. 
What gives us death wakes him from 
dust. 

To life instead. 

The day now lives. 
Older in age and yet new-born. 
He walks in the path of the rosy-morn. 

And light splendor gives. 

So those who die, 
Leaving glory and hope and beauty here. 
Shall arise at last to a holier sphere. 

To a realm more high. 



THE DAY IS DEAD. 

The day is dead ! 
Like echoes in some moimtain-dell, 
Is heard the tolling, chiming bell. 

High overhead. 



DIFFERENCE. 

There are some hearts once fondly mated 

Can never more be separated ; 
And other hearts perchance as true 

One bitter word will rend in two ; 
Thus those in lore their life outlasted. 

And these by love their whole life blasted. 



ENVY. 



How often does a beauteous star, 
Which glimmers in the skies ; 
Strive vainly through the clouds afar. 
To glad a watcher's eyes. 



102 THE DYING CHIEF.-BIRD ON THE CROSS.— EVENING STAR. 



So some pure maid behind a veil 
Of penury's dusky screen ; 
Is wrongly viewed by envy pale, 
Tliouifh in heaven her worth is seen. 

So shrine thy virtue, gentle fair. 
Within thy spotless breast. 
For purity, in heaven there, 
Will place thee midst the blest. 



THE DYING CHIEF. 

Once was heard the solemn tolling 

Of sad bells from many a steeple. 
And like waves continuous rolling. 

Came the tread of moarninj: people. 
Faces pale, and tear-bedewed ; 

Faces stern, as marble ghastly ; 
Seeming scarce with life imbued, 

Grieved in sorrow never lastly. 
Like the Babylonians olden, 
Yoice-confounded, though not dreaming. 
And these now were so beholden. 

With their eyes in sorrow streaming. 
Twas because a Chief was dying, 

Dying with the setting sun ; 
Mighty still, though lowly lying. 

His great work, his life-work done. 

Onward ever rolls the ocean. 

And the earth keeps ever moving. 
With eternal, unfelt motion ; 

While we die beloved, heloving. 
All the mighty, all the lowly. 

Have alike one common ending; 
And beneath a cover holy. 

Is their dust together blending. 
Kings and subjects, with one difference. 

Pomp and gorgeous funeral. 
Have, when ended their existence, 

But one earth to shroud them all. 
But that sad and solemn tolling. 

From each church's lofty steeple ; 
Was the death-knell for the calling 

Of a Great Chief from the people. 

All on him was then relying; 

Not he trembled from the burden, 
Thoxigh at last so slowly dying. 

Yet his Freedom was his guerdon. 
And throughout the Nation wailing. 

Heart-felt anguish loud was spoken ; 
For their brightest star was paling. 

Though its glow remained unbroken. 
Yet he smiled upon them blandly, 

Wishing to dispel their fears; 
He had lived and could die grandly. 

Having nobly spent his years. 
Thus it was the bells were tolling. 

Slowly tolling from each steeple; 
And the heavy sighs went rolling 

Upward from those weeping people. 



J. ITL OUlllO OLliXlL llllOO LLi\^^ It^ ^i LX 

TJlou hast a shape and live no less, 



BIRD ON THE CROSS. 

(AT LONE MOUNTAIN). 

Oh! holy bird, this mountain here, 
This cross on which you now reoose, 

Fit place to soothe a sinner's woes. 
Is midst this loneliness how drear. 

A pilgrim seldom makes his way. 
To plod along this sloping steep; 

Then haply at its top to weep. 
For those who jonder lowly lay. 

But thou upon this carved cross. 
An emblem of the spirit's flight, 

Lookst downward from its airy height 
On all below ; who marks thy loss? 

Thou art to-day, to-morrow gone; 
Yet some shall miss thee ne'ertheless 
shape and live no J 
nortal-beiiigs born. 

Pour forth a sweet pathetic song ; 

Winds only here are listners. 
Thy melody my bosom stirs ; 

Such strains do not to earth belong. 

And thou hast chose a fitting seat 
To sing thy praise to Him above ; 

Upon the cross which mortals love. 
Because there is repentence^sweet. 

And if perchance a thought of me 
Mingle within thy tiny breast, 

O deem me not like all the rest, 
Who listen to thy melody ! 

No tree here offers cooling shade, 
Noi" otters rest some bendini^ limb ; 

But on this cross upraise to Him . 
Thy orisons for things displayed. 

By such sweet strains the soothed soul 
Turns sadder, wiser, from thy side; 

And learns with sorrow to abide. 
And with misfortune to condole. 

Song-weaving bird, on fluttering wings. 
Thy pleasuj'e 'tis to roam the skies. 

And we, we far below Thy eyes. 
Though high in thought, seem lowly 
things. 



EVExNING STAR. 

Evening star, thou wealth of light. 
Whose effulgence adorns the skies ; 

How beauteous art thou in the night, 
A mystery to my gazing eyes. 

A star of hope, that, from above, 

Shinest like angel-smiles of love. 



THE OPERA.-SIR.-TO lOLANTHE. 



103 



Such rIow as thine we contemplate 

With holy reverential awe. 
And thou dost more than compensate 

For l)cauteous thing's my eyes once saw. 
What loveliness and sheeny splendor. 
Thy trembling beams to ether render. 

How cheerless without thee were night, 
Thy distant evor-glowing face; 

How brilliant is tliy amber light. 
Which does the radiant moon's replace. 

O surely thou art presage given. 

Of brighter things enthroned in Heaven. 

Yet what could brighter be than thou ; 

What planet purer mdiance give 
Than that encircling thee now? 

The spirits who in glory live. 
May know perchance a beam divine 
Whose brightness is more bright than 
thine. 

Thou sparklet through the ether deep 
Like a fair gem ; until the skies, 

Seeming an azure sea asleep. 
Are studded with ten million eyes 

Of brilliance; all aglow like thee, 

But far, far less in purity. 

Robed like angel high of beauty. 
Thrilling the bosom with a feeling. 

That leads it from its earthly duty ; 
Coniest thou nov,-, so softly stealing 

Above me with thy diamond beams, 

Like fairy forms we see in dreams. 

And not till night and morn embrace. 
Within the golden-portallcd skies. 

And Night with rosy-beaming face. 
In morn's embraces languid lies; 

Do I see thee for rest prepare. 

In the balm-cotiches of the air. 

Bright star of evening, in thy light. 
And by thy light, do we behold 

More beauty, and feel more delight. 
Than can be seen or can be told. 

And viewinar thee so bright above. 

My soul is thrilled by more than love. 



For 'nlidst the bright flashing and glitter 
Of diamonds and .iewels so rare, 

I think that my praises are fitter 
Bestowed on that fair singer there. 

Amidst the displayment of beauty. 

In silks and in purples of pride ; 
My verses would haply do duty 

To her, whose pure tones magnified. 

And yet with the joy of her singing, 
Enchantingly trilled through the air ; 

A thought— 'tis of gladness— is bringing 
Its vision of one being there. 

I am not accustomed to flatter. 

And so shall not flatter thee dow ; 
But thou amidst all— no, no matter— 

My heart is too full to avow. 

And yet in the words of a poet, 
Or Cupid— that impudent elf— 

I think— nay you blush and you know it. 
Few fairer were there than thyself. 



SIR. 



A stake for a heart. 

And a heart at stake ; 

Which of the two will you surely break. 

Good my lord ? 

Is it love for thy guineas? 

Or love for thyself? 

You know that the one whom you purcha 

bv pelf 
Holds thee abhored. 

Thy name is a cloud. 

And thy lands but of earth. 

Thou art too hoary and farrow-browed 

To be ever adored. 



Pass on to thy grave ; 

Disunited, unwed ! 

And leave all thy w'ealth to the 

who crave 
Such a hoard. 



beggars 



THE OPERA. 

What thought you of Patti last evening. 
Now do you not think she's divine ? 

I would that the joy of her music. 
Could thrill through these verses of mine. 

That aria she chanted, " Un Baccio." 
Impressed me far more by its lore 

Than any sweet tale from noccaccio ; 
Or melody warbled of yore. 



Or else take her as wife. 
I Is thy heart all a-flame and thy face like a 
! sun? 

If not she will be but thy torture through 
life. 

Good my lord. 



TO lOLANTHE. 

What poet's lyre was ever raised 
To scorn the sacred pledge of love; 

Nor yet has every poet praised 
This bliss immortal from above. 



104 



THE MYSTIC. 



For some rev^ere the tender bond. 
And some deride it in their strain ; 

Tliese knew its bliss, its kisses fond, 
Those found despondency their bane. 

And some its spirits hold in awe. 
As sacred to our mortal sight ; 

On earth by His supremial law, 
To glorify our mortal plight. 

While some upon the battle-field. 
Retired from martial rousing strains. 

Confess that Love alone could yield. 
The balm to cure their mortal pains. 

Or where the ocean's sounding roar 
Reverbetrates along the sands. 

Have some the honeyed arrows bore 
Which Love delivers with his hands. 

Or 'neath the dewy bending boughs, 
That mingling shade the river's side, 

Have they i-epeated Cupid's vows. 
And gladly kissed or sadly ci-ied. 

The miser's hut, the student's home, 
The beggar's haunt, the desert lone. 

Doth Love delighted ever roam . 
Nor scorns trie ruler on his throne. 

The world confesses to his charms, 
'Tis Love that rules this ruling world. 

And I within thy yielding arms 
Find him ; 'midst sweetest graces curled. 



THE MYSTIC. 



In my breast a name is shined ; Holy name ! 

I have borne it through the years. 

Which are numbered most by tears ; 

Through the flame 

Of a passion unconsumed ; 

Of a yearning undefined. 

When my childhood hopes resumed 

Shape again within my mind. 

I have borne it, realizing 

'Twas a glory worth the prizing 

I have borne it. while believing 

'Twas a balm to soothe my grieving. 

I have borne it, while repressing 

The rash hopes for future things ; 

Since I think there comes no blessing 

To our frail imaginings. 

I have borne it, while retaining. 

In my heart a sad disdaining 

For ttiings beautifully and good ; 

Since they were not understood. 



Till the name became the key, 

Of my bosom's mystery. 

Which pronounced, would open wide 

Loveliness all deified ; 

In a form or in a shape, in an essence and a 
youth. 

Of a thing too pure and radiant, to be sig- 
nified by Truth ! 

In the heaven of a Spirit, in a paradise of 
light. 

In a vision full of ecstacy, and infinite 
delight ! 

Which pronounced, this had displaying. 

Beauty, which my eyes surveying. 

Dazzled, blinded, turned away ; 

Like we shun the god of day. 

Brilliancy too splendor -pure. 

For a mortal to endure. 

Ere the mind with rapture teeming. 

Swooned away in angel-dreaming ! 



How that symbol is adored ; 

Mystic Word ! 

From my bosom I have poured 

All the cadences therein,- 

That were undefiled by sin ; 

So its power could be heard. 

I shall still soar grandly high. 

In my music's lofty strain. 

To attempt sublimity. 

What no one can deify. 

Shall my anthem then be vain? 

Shall 1 still continue pouring. 

All my spirit soul's adoring. 

To this mystical Unlistening? 

Though ten million stars were glistening ; 

Though ten million suns were gleaming ! 

Though ten million spheres were rolling ! 

Though ten million moons were beaming, 

On as many earths rotating ! 

Though ten million bells were tolling. 

In a thousand thunders mating ! 

Though the Universe were falling 

Into a profound abyss. 

Not like Chaos' emptiness ! 

Still this name would be enthralling 

All. where One alone has shrined it ! 

Where One Being has divined it ! 

Not a soul perhaps may know it. 

But the Universe's poet. 

Not a soul on earth has heard it, 

Though 'tis ecstacy to word it 

Knowing never where to seek it. 

Never one shall learn to speak it ! 

None may know where 'tis abiding. 

With its glorious self confiding! 

Though I know the name and bear it 

In my bosom to compare it 

Beyond what 'tis worth in price; 

Beyond worth of Paradise ! 

Yet I shall for aye retain it. 

Since no other can obtain it; 

There retain it and forever, 

Parting with it never, never! 



IXCANTATION.-UNIVERSE. 



105 



INCANTATION. 

Ere the first primal light 

Flashed into space ; 
Ere Chaos queen of night. 

Bare her world-race ; 
Ere the eternal beam, 

Glow shed around ; 
And with its brilliant gleam, 

Lit the profound ; 
Existed not a word ? 

Primal of all. 
Which then becoming heard. 

Freed from their thrall 
Essence and spirit first ; 

Scarce then create. 
Which the infinite durst 

Not chain in fate. 
Did not a hallow warm 

Pervade each mould ? 
Quickly and grandly form 

Them from their fold? 
Matter and essences. 

Gleamed them to light ; 
And in a loveliness. 

Did each unite. 
Aye this was bid and done. 

To infinite time ; 
So rolls the glowing sun. 

Ever sublime. 
So shine unnumbered spheres, 

So shines the moon; 
Hymning to mortal ears, 

Their glorious tune. 
So from the primal day, 

The Universe 
Shew us the grand display. 

We now rehearse ! 
So by the birth of hours. 

Borne to fair time, 
Bloomed forth the dallying flowers, 

In all their prime ! 
So from the rolling earth. 

Mightily beautiful ; 
The giant trees had birth. 

With fruitage full. 
So the gay Seasons born, 

In annual round. 
From Spring to AVinter morn. 

Sport on the ground ! 
So all things are decreed. 

To exist ever ; 
Both in the form and seed. 

To perish never! 
So all things that exist, 

In bloom and beauty ; 
Whether through light or mist 

Perform their dutj' ! 



UNIVERSE. 

O Beauty, glory, which are here unending. 
And mightiness of things eternal blending, 



Heaven and earth and million constella- 
tions ; 

How wonderful you seem ! 

How wonderful, mysteriously through 
ether. 

Infinitely revolve you thus together ; 

Peopled each one with intellectual nations ! 

A universal theme, 

Uncomprehended, yet forever pouring 

Thy mighty spirit tones of high adoring. 

To the All One Supreme! 



Refulgency and splendor, starry-cressets 

Flaming at night through azure-wilder- 
nesses ; 

Air-speeding messengers of storm and thun- 
der ; 

How beautiful you are ! 

And days and nights, with time forever 
speeding; 

Why then should man remain to these un- 
heeding ? 

Those lights of glory and those clouds of 
wonder. 

Beheld so bright afar ! 

Yet he degrades himself to passions lowly. 

Thinking that life and death at best are 
wholly 

A wisdom-bar ! 



Spirit infinite, spiritually existing. 

Through spaceless realms, through ages un 
resisting 

Thy splendor-beauty, and thy grandeur 
glory ; 

Beholden everywhere ! 

Thought permeating through all things 
created. 

Were you not with idea ever mated? 

Infinite too in Time's eternal story? 

So is the bloomy air. 

Which blesses us ; the flowerets perfuming 

The same with fragrance, as they are up- 
blooming 

Beauteously fair ! 



Chaos, birth-giving to these visioned won- 
ders; 

To flashing lightnings and to roiling thun- 
ders ; 

To atom-planets which shall perish never. 

We ask what art thou ? 

Through harmonies of grandeur so sub- 
limely 

Displayed to man, shall Wisdom never 
timely 

Interpret mysteries as these? Shall humans 
ever 

Know juore than now? 

Through epoch-intervals thou art revealing 

To mighty minds alone the true concealiig 

Of thy created vow ! 



106 



EVERLASTING MYSTERY.— PHILOSOPHY. 



EVERLASTIN^G MYSTERY. 

Everlasting Mystery, 

Glorious and sublime ; 
Is the Universe to me. 

In the realm of time ! 

Orbs which through the pathless vv^ay. 

Beam eternal light ; 
Suns which bring forever day 

To the mourning night. 

Earths which have their satellites, 

Satellites their spheres ; 
Moons which beautified the nights. 

Of now slumbering years. 

Planets of infinite space, 

Rolling on alone; 
Heralded through boundless place 

By their mighty tone ! 

Music of the ether flood. 

Cadences of night ; 
Echoed by the multitude 

Of those planets bright. 

Systems in their epoch-round. 

Harmonized in air ; 
Circling through the vast profound. 

Of the endless there. 

These are glories of the things, 

Visioned to our eyes ; 
Beyond thought-imaginings. 

In the azure skies. 

Everlasting mystery, 

Unrevealed to man ; 
Is the Universe to me. 

In its wondrous plan ! 



PHILOSOPHY. 

We know we live, unknowing wiiy we 

live. 
Except in purposes. And these become 
The true realities, by which to give 
A relaxation of their woe to some. 
We ask what are we? and our soul is 

dumb. 
Or else it answers not to what we ask. 
What then is life ? Is it a martyrdom 
Which man miist suffer? Or a simple task. 
Completed which in sunshine he may 

bask? 

Thought follows thought to wake the 

mightiest : 
Self-conscious and self-thinking, we are all 
A humble servant to the soul's unrest ; 
Which holds our poor worn bodyself in 

thrall. 



And he is bravest who doth bravely fall ; 
Though without glory. What is this 

grand glory ? 
This wretchedness which mighty fame we 

call? 
A page of something in Time's withered 

story ; 
As briefly written as 'tis transitory ! 

Philosophy thou art a glorious cheat ! 

A brilliant phantomsy of mind and soul. 

Philosophy thou art a sweet deceit ! 

To hold so many sages in control. 

From Plato to whom else? Since none 
can toll 

But eternallity to such bel'ef ! 

Life's characiery is written on thy scroll ; 

He who knows most is Nature's greatest 
thief, 

He who knows less, knows less of Wis- 
dom's grief. 

Yet such sweet consolation do we gain 
From the intensity of thy precepts : 
That one finds Gilead-balm for mortal pain 
In the pure honey of thy bloomy lips, 
Which every being madly wildly sips! 
And such enchantment hath thy beauteous 

face, 
That millions follow after thee. Their steps 
May lead to darkness ; but none will retrace 
His way once charmed by thy immortal 

grace ! 

Thy beauty is but earthly, this I feel ! 

Thy presence is but mortal, this I know ! 

Yet none the less I wish thou couldst reveal 

Things beyond knowing ; though in doing 
so, 

I should find Knowledgebut a deeper woe! 

Intensely ever do I strive and yearn. 

For comprehension on this sphere below ; 

Though there are things the mind can nev- 
er learn. 

To me but Wisdom may be life's return. 

It is a worship never passionless 

In its intensity, this wish of mine ; 

To know things beyond knowing, though 

no less 
Known to the Spii'it which exists divine ! 
Can I behold the brilliancies which shine 
Upon me from the skies, and not desire 
To penetrate to the immortal shrine 
Of highest Wisdom? Quench my spirit's 

fire. 
Or bid some truth reveal what I require ! 

Alas! alas! I speak in mockery ; 
I crave in madness, and I pray in tears. 
I do not sorrow, though but sorrow be 
The only wisdom I shall know in j'ears. 
I only ask myself, midst hopes and fears. 
And exaltation of the spirit-sense ; 



THE VOICE OF CHAOS.— WORSHIPPERS. 



107 



Wliat is this Universe which now appears 
So beautiful? How formed? by whom? 

from whence? 
An echo answers, "Truth is Truth, both 

now and ages hence ! " 



THE VOICE OF CHAOS. 

I was a formless mass, though not im- 
known 
To one Supi'emer Being ; and unshaped 
In this majestic way, by which alone 

Men call me beautiful and glory-draped! 
Chaos they name me. it is not my name ; 
Yet mortals maj' not know it. Though 
[ be 
Through million centuries in form the 
same. 
They are too blind to pierce to mystery ! 
This tone in which I speak is echoless. 
A.S are I he thunders round the other 
spheres ; 
For to infinity no voice may press. 
To bring its echo to eternal ears ! 
I am the mother of these worlds around 
me. 
In their swift revolutions ; and the 
bride 
Of Time, who knows me young as when 
he found me. 
By His Almightiness so glorified ! ;. 

So long have I life to these realms been 
giving. 
Since my young womb by its first-born 
was shaken. 
Eternal accents do I send the living. 
Listen to them, earth-mortals, and awak- 
en ! 
Know ye not me midst all, all things excel- 
ling ? 
Except the One by whom I was created. 
Who placed mehereinmy infinite dwelling 
Where I with Time eternally am mated ! 
Then who is He ye ask ? this grand Creator, 
Who gave me life for aye. This mighti- 
est Being ? 
Of all divinity the dispensator, 
Surnamed on earth. Almighty and All- 
seeing ! 
Ask not of me. who though not growing 
hoary. 
Have ever been innumerable ages. 
Ask not of me, who know less of His glory. 
Than those pretending to, the wordly 
sages ! 
Ask not of me, to whom He aye did ren- 
der, 
Infinite youth and essence of adoring ; 
I may not tell of His resplendent splendor. 
Which man for centuries hath been ig- 
noring ! 



Ask not of me. in whom a greater wonder 
Perchance existeth. than in any mortal. 
But list my voice, which shall be like the 
thunder 
Issuing through the azure's open portal. 
By day, by night, though it shall be most 
nighly, 
W^hen my world-children then are 
grouped together : 
Shall man adore them, shining clearly 
brightly, 
Though the pure atmosphere of endless 
ether ! 
And so adore Him whose imagination. 
Incomprehensible tnough 'tis forever. 
Bade him give this grand Universe crea- 
tion. 
Which now existeth, and shall perish 
never ! 



WORSHIPPERS. 

Oft have I stood with joy-enraptured sense. 
And worshipped Nature's grand magnifi-' 

cence. 
So the Chaldean from his cavern halls. 
Full twice ten centuries now past. 
Into unfathomab'e mystery ; then cast 
His eyes as wonderingly upward where the 

walls 
Of azure clearness, curtained by light' 

clouds. 
In golden foldings seemed to prison him 
In their infinity. And so the crowds 
Upon the soil of Asia, lowly bent 
In their sun-wox'ship ; who if risen dim. 
They did pi'opitiate with balmy spice. 
As deeming the day's gloominess was 

meant. 
For some disdain or lack of sacrifice. 

O could some spirit answer us as he 
Was answered ; the believing Hebrew 

king ! 
Some spirit rise in awful majesty! 
Or swift descend from unascended height 
Of highest Paradise; enrobed in light 
Of dazzling splendor-stars ! Yet let us 

sing 
Our psalmodies, as others oft have done 
Beneath the cedar-grots of Lebanon. 
Clashing their timbrels to the solenm 

song 
Of some snow-bearded minstrel, as they 

went 
With fiowing robes, the floweey lanes 

along. 
Unto the holy altar, where balm-scent 
Of myrrh and cinnamon, did purely greet 
The souls devouted with its perfume sweet 



108 



THE TWO TREES.— BE SO. 



On earth we are adorers every one ; 
Some like the Persians worshipping the 

sun. 
Or fire- worshippers, like the Peruvian 
For ages undiscovered. Most adore 
The loftiest conception of the mind ; the 

lore. 
And spirit exaltation of the soul ! 
O Truth gleamed not from some parched 

Magi-scroll ! 
Truth infinite, eternal wonder-plan 
Of this mysterious Universe; Belief 
Is not forcKnowlege ; tis but earthly hope 
For a heavenly hereaftC'-. And the grief 
Come to those mortals, whose unbounded 

scope 
Leads them so loftily ; whose yearning 

eyes 
Are ever seeking answer in the skies. 

So beautiful, such glorious loveliness. 
Those circling realms of harmony possess ; 
Uncomprehended though they be by man. 
Those ilaming wonder-planets of the night, 
Rotating ever through infinite space, 
And that enchanting hemisphere of light, 
Imaged Diana for her silver grace ; 
So glorifying too the orb of day ; 
That what if some in worshipping the plan 
Of these sphere-splendors, forget Him who 

made 
The Universe, so dazzlingly displayed ! 
But statues sculpture not themselves from 

stone 
Without an artist. Then let reason say. 
Nor did these wonders form themselves 

alone. 



THE TWO TREES. 

Bear thou thy fruit, O tree of Life ; or bit- 
terly or sweet. 

Shall man not pluck it from the pendant 
boughs ? 

Or bear the fruit 

Of thorns which are thereon? 'Tis more 
than meet. 

Yea more than meet he should, and more 
he will. 

His yearnings and his passions, and his 
vows. 

Himself to elevate. 

Above his being's mortal state ; 

Are after all a madness in him still. 

Bear thou thy fruit, O Knowlege tree ! 
Man plucks the tree of life's fair fruit and 

bleeds ; 
How first were strown thy seeds? 
He wisdom learneth who will pluck of 

thee, 



Ah ! what is then the fruit we should de- 
mand. 

The fruit of life or fruit of knowledge- 
lore ; 

Since life brings Wisdom, Wisdom life 
again. 

Pluck of the first, say thou, the hand 

That plucks of it, though suffering pain. 

Will love forevermore, 

Pluck of the next, say I then, for from 
thence 

Is more than life, or life upon this earth, 

For there is life when death doth call us 
hence ; 

A death's immortal birth ! 

The tree of life giveth futurity, 

N ot of what was but what is yet to be. 

But ah ! the fruit of knowlege teaches 
more ; 

The past, the present, and the future's lore. 

Pluck then from both, say thou; true 
pluck from both,' 

Yet see how many to do this are loth ! 



BE SO. 



O would'st thou be a man in fact, 

Uprear thyself above the low ; 
Disuiay thy wisdom and thy tact. 

Grace courage on thy noble brow. 
And let thy soul be firm and strong. 

Not passion-stirred or cold as clay ; 
For praise of men and fame of song. 

Are things which pass not soon away. 

True greatness comes not from the proud. 

True virtue never was sin-born ; 
The night that brings the darkest cloud. 

Must dawn again a rosy-morn, 
Soul-strengh, mind-work, will-hope, heart- 
skill. 

These essences are not in vain ; 
He noble only is, who will 

Be adamant against disdain. 

Man is the perfect one of all. 

If he himself will recognize ; 
What power then can grief enthrall 

The soul which doth all such despise. 
Trust him who is himself a trust. 

Love him who knoweth what is love ; 
Thei'e is no death, there may be dust, 

But this is nought to Him above. 

The warrior lives alone in deed. 

The poet in his thoughts and song ; 
But Faith is the eternal creed. 

That never leadeth mortals wrong. 
Hope. Charity, and Love, become 

Kin-glory to Almighty Truth; 
To make life less a martyrdom. 

Than what it is to many youth. 



RESOLUTION.— INDIFFERENCE. 



109 



Be not apart from hiiman-kind. 

Scorn treacherj^ and faithlessness ; 
Be perfect as a master-mind. 

Which greater is than we can guess, 
In words, in acts, in deeds, awake 

The impulses which noble are; 
Live but for good, existence make 

As pure as any ether-star. 

Be like the noble Brotherhood 

Of some who dwell upon this earth ; 
The true of soul, the souls of good. 

Who glorify their mortal-birth. 
Conform thyself unto their plan. 

But follow not old customs laws; 
And know thyself, for thus one can 

Discover the eternal cause. 



RESOLUTION. 

It may be that my passions have been such. 

As would have blighted a far stronger soul 
Than mine hath been. But an ethereal 
touch. 

From some superior power did condole 
My spirit for its grieving overmuch ; 

No longer did I hear its sorrow toll. 
Though I had only dared to idolize 
The beauty in this earthly paradise. 

By day I dreamt ; at night these spectre 
things 
Had their realities, a joy and bloom. 
By day my bosom cherished aspirings. 

Which the lone night did holily resume. 
By day, bj^ night, my thoughts had ever 
wings. 
Soaring to brightness through the finite 
gloom. 
Let him who cherishes such hopes as I. 
Know never fear while thus ascendinghigh. 

Be calm, my mind, for I shall dedicate 

Thy inward powers to one life alone. 
Be calm, my heart, and patiently await 

The voice of battle, the almighty tone ; 
Which shall command thee onward to thy 
fate. 

Be calm, my soul, my passions are my 
own. 
Be firm and true, though thou art sensitive. 

And let thy study teach thee how to live. 

Remember too that there is One above. 

Who looks upon thee with a smile benign ; 
Remember too that thou hast men to love. 
Who haply never knew such hopes as 
thine. 
What though thy thoughts of happiness be 
of 
A higher heaven ; holier, divine. 
Thou art of earth and earth must be thy 

sphere. 
Till death give freedom to thy spirit here. 



Gaze thou then down O God, upon this 
earth ; 
Smile on the miserable and the poor. 
Cheer them from sorrow, bless their bos- 
om's dearth. 
There are some pangs which man can- 
not endure. 
And let the worthy prosper in their 
worth ; 
And sad and sickly know thy holy cure. 
Make all men noble, for the nobly good 
Are kin together, one grand brotherhood. 

Art thou not Maker of these things our 
sense > ... ^ 
Beholds enraptured, being beautiful? 
Didst not create all the magnificence 
Of this grand Universe? Which not 
until 
Thy Word commanded, sprang from space 
intense ; 
And which at once thou could again an- 
nul, 
Aye, 'twas from Thee this loveliness had 

being. 
Almighty One; Almighty and All-seeing. 

And so 1 worship Thee and thee alone, 

Who art Supreme and Infinite indeed ! 
Yet what am I that have been use to 
moan. 
And weep and sigh for thy eternal creed? 
How blind are we Creator, who have 
known. 
What may be known, and scarcely gave 
it heed. 
Panting for Wisdom, madmen in our 

youth. 
Because too frail to see thy glorious truth. 

I now have cast all wordliness aside. 

And made myself as I would wish to be ; 
Far calmer-thoughted. sorrow-purified 

Perchance O God, it was by help of Thee 
I now have cast away all vainest pride, 

To dedicate myself to Poesy. 
And what Thy Will is so will I be such. 
For bliss or woe— to joy or sorrow much. 



INDIFFERENCE. 

Let the flower fade or wither. 

What care you or I; 
We have seen it bloom together. 

We shall see it die. 
Flowers cannot bloom forever. 
Yet from earth they vanish never ; 

Therefore never sigh. 



110 



HOLY POTENCY.-SOUL AND GEM. 



What are joys and what are sorrows. 

That have never come; 
Why are lioliday-to-morrows. 

Happiness to some ? 
Morrows to the dead come never. 
Yet the morrows come forever; 

VVliy then be grief-dumb? 

Look upon that child of beauty, 

With her sparkling eye ; 
She is living for a duty, 

And a God on high. 
She through life so far hath sported, 
Happy-hearted merry thoughted ; 

Yet she too must die. 

But are beauty, goodness, pleasures 

Of a transient clay ? 
Or are they \in valued treasures, 

To be cast away ? 
They are things which cannot perish. 
They are gems we ever cherish 

Till the endless day. 

Therefore he is woeful only. 

Who will think of woe ; 
He is wretched, he is lonely. 

Who no joy doth know. 
Souls exist but to be mated. 
Love on earth is compensated. 

Time hath found it so. 



HOLY POTENCY. 

Holy potency of good. 

Divine Trinity above ; 
Would that ye were understood, 

O Supreme Love! 

Link to link will form a chain ; 

Love and love are but a whole 
Of that spirit form again. 

Of the pure soul. 

Time is ruler of all space. 
Love is ruler still of time; 

Where 'er Love is, that lonely place 
Is made sublime. 



Therefore love is called the tie 
Of all living things on earth ; 

Therefore I would glorify 
His rapture-birth. 

Filling void and ether-span. 

With a pure electric thrill ; 
'Tis the divine power of man. 

His guardian still. 



Things inanimate ; that live ; 

This spiritual force have known, 
Who the highest bliss doth give 

To souls alone. 

'Tis the gift our Maker gave. 
When he bade Creation rise ; 

Both existence and the grave 
It glorifies. 

'Tis the essence of all things. 
Primal spirit-form of bliss ; 

Divine joy for woe it brings 
Such world as this. 



SOUL AND GEM. 

A sparkling gem, 
Whose only wealth. 

Was in its purity ; 
By love was won in artless stealth. 
And placed upon his diadem. 

For every one to see, 

A sparkling soul. 
The purest prize 

A mortal can desire ; 
Which Love now bound by golden ties. 
And worship-fed the spirit-whole, 

'Twas all it did require. 

A sparkling time 
Of radicint youth, 

No sorrows could outshine ; 
For joy was hoped, and joy in truth 
Nor came in all its heavenly prime. 

With rapsody divine ! 

A sparkling ray, 
Ascendixig swift 

To heaven from the earth ; 
I saw that spirit soul tiplift. 
And bear the sparkling gem away. 

In all its radiant worth. 

Then soul and gem. 
In beauteous prime. 

Through azure disappeared ; 
And then before the throne of Him 
I saw them both ; and then a chime 

Of angel-bells I heard. 

What was the gem ? 
What was the soul? 

Which I have written of. 
'Tis scriptured on the golden scroll 
Of heaven, that the diadem 
Alone belongs to love. 



MANY DAYS.— CHARITY.— FAIREST STAR. 



Ill 



And they who bear 
This erown away. 

To Him, Almighty King ; 
They are the spirits pure as day. 
Since they alone unto him there, 

Love's gem untainted bring. 
A sparkling time. 

But not on earth. 

Forever they shall live ; 
Who prized that gem of priceless worth, 
And they shall find in heaven's clime, 

The rapture it can give. 



MANY DAYS. 

For many days a lofty mind had hoarded. 

Within itself a thought ; 
Retained it there unwritten, unrecorded. 

In spirit only wrought. 
Like to a star which men had looked for 
vainly. 

Through Wisdom's dawning years; 
In heaven shone as brilliantly and plainly. 

As other starry spheres. 

Until at last when first it had revealing. 

Men gloried in the same; 
Felt exaltation, a new passion feeling, 

Go thrilling through their frame. 
Worshipped its greatness as in realms of 
splendor, 

A new discovered earth ; 
Knowing one glorious mind alone could 
render. 

To such a thought its birth. 

Ah ! but few know the mind-imagination. 

This being did possess; 
Ere that his thought in Genius' constella- 
tion. 
Beamed forth with loveliness. 
Few know the passionate, but sublime 
thinking. 
That often stirred his soul ; ! 

No, none reck this as its high beauty drink- ' 
ing. 
They wonder-view the whole. j 

! 

Recompensation is not for this being. 

This more than mortal man ; 
Who gifted thus with intellectual seeing. 

As grandly weaved his plan. ' 

For he unaltered through the darkest sor- 
rows. 

His purpose did create ; 
Knowing at last that many undawned 
morrows. 

His truth would revelate. ' 



CHARITY. 

Bread cast upon the waters will return 

Though after many days ; 
If thine is cast already cease to yearn ; 

For there ar<- different ways 
By which true charity finds its reward, 

Rely on Him who is Almighty Lord. 

Stones which are hidden in the silent 
earth. 
For ages do not shine; 
'Till some rude hand from out that seem- 
ing dearth. 
Reveals these gems divine. 
Time was not yet w' hen they should purelj' 
glow. 
Nor is for thee thy recompence below. 

Let Truth thy beacon be. The truth of 
truth 
Cannot be hid from sight ; 
And thou wilt find that all thy gentle ruth. 

Blooms still with pure delight. 
A seed of Charity on earUi is spilled. 
It buds to glory. 80 hath Heaven 
willed. 

The deeds of men who were the battle- 
kings. 
These cannot last for aye ; 
But Virtue's deeds, these are eternal 
things. 
Which cannot pass away. 
Remember glory wreathes itself with 
thorns. 
Strive till this crown thy humble brow 
adorns 



FAIREST STAR. 

Fairest star of fairest skies; 
Fairer than all beauty eyes 
Ever have been or can be. 
Symbol of divinity; 
Never in the vastness wide 
Of the heavens azure-dyed. 
Have I seen a lovelier beam. 
Than thy brilliancy doth seem. 
Never round the amber-shrine 
Of Diana, queen of night. 
Seem a brighter silver-shine, 
Than thy own so purely bright. 
Surely no Chaldean seer. 
Wonder-eyed, did ever peer 
From his musty scrolls, to any 
Bright as thou among the many 
fieaniing ones. Or poet-being. 
Been enchanted more by seeing 
Any other radiance shining, 
(clearer than thy own. Some pining 
Romeo, or passion-lover 



112 



"TO TAKE."— THE ROMAN PALACE. 



As he Razed the heavens over. 

Oft hath deemed his love was smiling 

In thy beauty, thus beguihng 

Many hours patience-weighted, 

'Till their happiness was sated 

By. a loolc or kiss caressing. 

From the maiden of their blessing. 

I will smile anon, anon, 
Smiles are not by sadness won. 
Never golden thread was spun 
Yet upon the wheel of Chance, 
Less or Time or Fate, with lance 
Of high destiny, did sever 
That frail- woven link forever. 
Yes, anon I will be gay, 
bmiles are fleeting anyway ; 
And the one too happy hearted, 
Soon or later will be started 
By a voice of gentle sadness. 
Calling him away from gladness. 
But no brightness can be surer. 
And no brightness can be purer. 
Than that star's above me glowing. 
Surely moments we are throwing 
In the deeps of hoary time, 
If our thoughts will never climb 
To the window of our sotil ; 
And gaze out nx)on the whole 
Universe of splendor-stars ; 
What are sorrows but the bars 
Of our life to keep us penned 
Yet our thoughts may still ascend 
Upward, upward ; past the beauty 
Of those stars themselves. 'Tis duty, 
Or a worship that compels us 
To soar tiiusly grandly high ; 
Or a spirit voice which tells us. 
Pass to life eterne thereby ! 



O TAKE. 



O take thou this wreath, they are flowerets 
culled 
When the dew of the evening beamed 
pure to the eye ; 
And let thy young spirit be tenderly lulled 
By their"^ fragrance and beauty, alas ! till 
they die. 



And when faded and withered this un- 
speaking token. 
Though a tale of pure love it now ardent- 
ly weaves; 
O dream but again of the one who hath 
spoken, 
The things which he would w-ere con- 
fessed by their leaves. 



And then if a thought or a sweet recollec- 
tion. 
Awaken a feeling, a pang of regret ; 
O kiss these fair flowers in that retrospec- 
tion, 
And they still will soothe thee as tender- 
ly y et. 



THE ROMAN PALACE. 



Go ask of Time who since the world began, 
Has ever been the enemy of man ; 
Why he once built what now he hath des- 
troyed. 
These mouldering plinths, these collonades 

decayed ; 
Through whose aged crevices the golden 

moon 
Her glittering beams descends, a transient 

light. 
These crumbled piles of marble and of 

stone. 
That precious days once occupied to build. 
Now strewn and shattered and prostrated 

low. 
These winding paths, once canopied be- 
neath 
A fragi'ant arch of intermingling flowers ; 
The jessamine, the moss-rose, and the vine, 
For silentness fit haunt is now become. 
O here how oft at dewy eve of Spring, 
Or golden Summer's eve, were accents 

sweet 
Re-echoed midst the balminess of all. 
How oft the sigh soft-whispered was 

unheard. 
Except to the bloom-messengers of earth; 
Who nodded and replied each unto each. 
At every passing Zeohyr's tender speech. 
Yet these are silent now, nor lovers more 
Will wander clasped together as of old. 
Above soft carpetings of violets ; 
To passion over tales forever new. 
Nor will the Roman warrior's godly tread. 
Lead him to enter here midst loneliness. 
The palace is a skeleton of art ! 
Its monstrous columns, and its archi- 
traves ; 
Its pillars festooned o'er with sculptured 

wreaths ; 
Its balconies with ivy garlanded. 
It lofty portals and its massy doors ; 
Its yarden luxurious and dazzling founts ; 
And statues beautiful in marbleness, 
All these are ruined, wrecked, and desolate. 
Each hugest shape seems like a Goliath, 
Laid low in mightiness. Or ask of Time, 
Why he hath thus resigned his lawful 

sway. 
And ci-owned as king his eldest son Decay ! 



DEISM.— BEAUTIFUL MAIDEN. 



113 



DEISM. 

If men have made themselves what now 
they are. 

Is it by their own faculty of thought ? 

Or by the intervening of a fate 

Which overshadows them ; like clouds afar 

Obscuring the rich brilliancy of day. 

Some greater Artist, you will say, hath 
wrought 

These mortal sha pes ; their moulded breath- 
ing-clay. 

Infusing in their souls both love and hate. 

Both worship for the living and the dead ; 

And intellect by which to comprehend 

What is, and what is not ; and what to be 

Is worthy of. Until they all have fed 

Unto satiety of Wisdom known. 

And still the passion-yearning to ascend 

Unto a loftier sphere of Mystery. 

Will be their hope, their joy of life alone 

Has man then made himself what now he 

seems. 
Immortality endowed with reasoning? 
Or is his spirit-essence most inspired ? 
We awe ourselves to wonder at the 

themes 
Of mighty poets ; asking thoughtfully 
Is there not a Superior? And we bring 
Proof metaphysical, yet undesired ; 
To prove He is or is not. Then we see 
How vainly we oft babble with our sense 
When words are nothing and cannot con- 
vince ; 
And speculation is the only truth. 
Then sophistry, with all its eloquence. 
Unwinds the gordian-knot, which when 

unwound. 
We then perceive that many ages since. 
Men reasoned as we reason': in the youth j 
Of ignorance; searching for the unfound. | 

Men oft have pondered on these mighty 

things. 
And ^vill so ponder to the end of time ; 
Being stilhmexplainable to them. 
I too have pondered, but one reason 

brings 
Me to my senses ; that such themes 

sublime 
Cnnnot be understood by mortal men. 
We see but through the fold or kiss 

the hem. 
And have beliefs discovered now and then. 



Yes, men have pondered and will ponder 

yet. 
When other centuries away have passed. 
Not mythical as was the olden time 
Will their religion be, for they have set 
Their lamps of faith above such beauty- 
masks ; 



Nor flame they to a wilderness of clime. 
Men know themselves, and think they 

know at last. 
Their purposes ideal and their tasks. 



BEA.UTIFUL MAIDEN. 

When thou in the garden art culling the 
flowers. 
Most beautiful maiden ; 
Thou seemest an angel come down from 
the bowers. 
Of heavenly Aidenn. 
As lovely in shape, and as radiant in seem- 
ing. 
As seraphs the mind oft beholdeth while 
dreaming. 

O beautiful being, when wreathing togeth- 
er. 
Those flowers rich-smelling; 
Thou St' em est like them but a breather of 
ether. 
Or fair lily dwelling 
Upon the sweet earth, and in innocence 
blooming. 
The air with thy richness of fragrance 
perfumins-. 

Beautiful maiden, there is in thy features 

A pureness so tender ; 
That I doubt if in heaven those angelic 
creatures. 
Do holily render 
A dawn of delight to the beauty around 
them. 
Though he like thyself hath in Chastity 
crowned them . 

May thou ever so live in thy ravishing 
beauty, 
A being enthalling ; 
The bosom itself on its pathway of duty. 

Resists not thy calling. 
Thou art to our earth an untainted adorn- 
ing 
Like opening buds in the blush of the 
morning. 

May thou ever so live and as sweetly be- 
holden. 
To loved ones around thee ; 
Thy eyes are all truth and thy flowing locks 
golden. 
In glossiness bound thee ; 
All others in innocence, beauty, excelling. 
Thou makest our earth near a heavenly 
dwelliDg. 



114 



TRUTHS.-ELAINE. 
TRUTHS. 



First we live and then we die, 
What is tuere to mystify ; 
Pilgrims we are all on earth. 
To our death and from our birth. 



First we love and then we hate. 
Since it seems our moi'tal fate ; 
Then we die and witner otf, 
Objects of unspoken scoff. 

First is youth and then is age, 
First is peace and then is rage ; 
First is joy and happiness ; 
Then is woe and pain no less. 

Nothing left of mortal kind. 
But the still immortal mind; 
Nothing left of early youth. 
But its innocence and truth. 

Nothing left of sages old. 
But the mysteries they scrolled ; 
Nothing left of poets great, 
But their thoughts to elevate. 

Nothing left behind by time. 
But memorial deeds sublime ; 
What then can we mystify. 
Since we live and since we die ? 

Since we live and since we die. 
Doth this thought not mystify? 
When no mortal one may know, 
Why it is forever so ? 



ELAINE. 



Brows of snow. 

And eyes of fire ; 
Lips of bloom. 

And cheeks of rose ; 
How they glow 

With love's desire ; 
And perfume 

The air with blows. 

Lids of pink. 

And golden hair; 
Teeth of pearl, 

And slender hands ; 
One would think 

That beauty there. 
In every curl. 

Wove Cupid-bands. 



-CHRIST HATH RISEN. 

Soul as pure 

As spirit high ; 
Heart as chaste 

As lily white; 
Ah ! be sure 

That even I, 
Cannot waste 

My praises light. 

Ah ! be sure 

That even I, 
Cannot praise 

Thy loveliness. 
Being pure. 

In beauty high ; 
Golden days 

Be thou no less. 

And the essence. 

So divine ; 
Spiritual youth 

And bloom. 
With thy presence 

Purely shine ; 
Which no truth 

Could now resume. 



CHRIST HATH RISEN. 

Christ has risen ! 
From the darkness through the dawn 
unto the light ; 
From the prison 
Where h's spirit had reposed as glori- 
ously bright. 
But uplifted 
From his cenotaph of sorrow and of 
gloom. 
He the gifted. 
Now existed in a paradisal bloom ! 

Man is lying 
Low as he was, in the deepness of a 
grave. 
Though undying. 
Yet as dead, until a greater will his 
spirit save. 
Lying lowly. 
With the weight of years of sorrow o'er 
his fame. 
Till his Holy ! 
Wake him from that darkness to a glori- 
ous beauty-flame. 

Not thorn-wreathed 
As was Jesus; but thorn-minded and 
thorn-stung. 
When he breathed 
Life's fair freshness, it gave joy unto his 
tongue ; 



A DAY xVND A NIGHT.— SONG.- LOVE ME. 



115 



But grief-hearted, 
All the bloom of sunshine faded into 
further deeps of deep ; 
And unparted 
Are the curtains twixt existence and its 
sleep ! 

Christ hath risen ! 
'Twas Jehovah bid him from his dark- 
ness rise. 
From his prison 
Unbiirred portals to allow Him enter 
enter Paradise ! 
Man despaireth 
For the future in the present, for the 
past is dead ; 
And yet dareth 
To hymn orisons and prayers to the 
Being overhead. 



A DAY AND A NIGHT. 



A day since the meeting, a night since we 
parted. 
So swiftly, so quickly. Love bosoms en- 
twines ; 
And the beams of her eyes that on mine 
softly darted. 
Have showed me how purely her soul 
inly shines. 

A day since her face by its beauty impressed 
me. 
And thrilled me with feelings that slum- 
bered before ; 
A night since her lips in virginity blessed 
me. 
And her voice tranced my heart by its 
musical lore. 



A day since I deemed that no maiden could 
chide me. 
Or show me the faults which my nature 
may bear ; 
A night since that angel of goodness beside 
me. 
Instilled me with thoughts of all noble 
and fair. 



A day— I am changed from that day to 
this morrow, 
A dawning of love hath enlightened my 
breast ; 
A night— such a night whence the bosom 
may borrow 
A joy and a gladness, though felt, unex- 
pressed. 



A day and a night I have passed time in 

dreaming, 
. The awakening were rude from such 

world unto this ; 
Let me deem that existence although but 

inseeniing. 
Will retain fur me ever this holiest bliss. 

Could I tell if her bosom too throbbed with 
the feeling. 
That pervaded my own I were happier 
still : 
But I will not reproach her for never re- 
vealing. 
Nor deem her unkind howsoever she 
will. 



SONG. 



The day is new and bright for you. 

And fair for you alone ; 
For Phoebus great in glorious state, 

Is on his azure throne. 
Then hie thee forth from out thy nest, 
Thy lover waits to be caressed . 

The morn is still, but from the hill 

A linnet sweetly sings; 
And the clear brook from nook to nook 

In whispering gladness springs. 
The roses ope their bosom fair. 
And lilies show their stately air. 

And we shall stroll from knoll to knoll, 

Of daisy golden ground ; 
And we shall speak with cheek to cheek. 

And arms together round. 
And we shall wonder if the lark 
Sings only when dissolves the dark. 

Then from thy nest awake from rest. 

It is thy lover calls ; 
From flower to flower, in every bower, 

The sparkling dew-drops falls. 
Come forward then my Kitty gay. 
And welcome the new blooming day. 



LOVE ME. 

Love me maiden with blue eyes. 
Whence I see thy virtuous soul 

For a love that never dies. 
Is of life the whole. 

Clasp me in thy arms so soft ; 

Press me to thy bosom white. 
Kiss me often, kissing oft 

Is Love's true delight. 



116 



THE FREED SLAVES.— FRIENDSHIP.-DEW-SE A. 



None can so my senses lull 
As thou canst, to musings calm. 

Since thou art so beautiful. 
Like a fragrant palm. 

As that radiant Paradise, 
Wheieiu angels did descend. 
So I see witliin th,v eyes 

Love and goodness blend. 

Let us to each other cling ; 

Thou the ivy, I the oak. 
Till death sunder everything, 

With his fatal stroke. 

Never may thy cheeks with bloom 
Of the rose, know pallor-hue ; 

Never air knew such pei*f ume 
As doth breathe from you. 

Love can still as it was wont, 

In Leander's passion-days. 
Cross as broad a Hellespont 

For a virgin's gaze. 

Love is as it was of yore ; 

Love shall be twixt thee and I 
Like a pealing rapture-lore. 

Thrilling earth and sky. 

Thrilling heart, and mind, and soul ; 

Thrilling all our ardor-frame. 
Let the days forever roll, 

We will love the same. 

Love the same through youth and age, 

As if life were but a day ; 
Which on Time's eternal page 

Scarcely makes display. 



THE FREED SLAVES. 

They were all chained with rusty bands. 
Those slaves from A.fric's coast ; 

Till Freedom came and with her hands 
She freed the enslaved host. 

Their hearts were free, their palms alone 
Had toiled for life and bread ; 

A nation with a hidden groan. 
Till slavery was dead. 

Anthemial then they sang the strains 
Of blessing. Till their voice 

Rolled like day-thunder o'er the plains. 
And made the land rejoice. 

Nor will those hands again be bound. 
Their hearts were ever free ; 

And healed by Peace the feudal-wound 
Which weakened Liberty. 



FRIENDSHIP 

Friendship— that is a holy word. 

For one whose breast was never stirred. 

To its profoundest depths of love ; 

That bliss but purified above. 

Some say it is a sacred tie 

To bind true bosoms till they die. 

Two hearts which in one essence blend. 

Together live, together end. 

One wish, one joy, one happiness. 

Nor either more nor either less; 

One hope in age. one hope in youth. 

One life for both, for both a truth. 

One grief, if haply sorrows came ; 

One virtue they alike could claim. 

One thought in things of worthy lore, 

One Supreme Being to adore; 

Their feelings blending in such wliole. 

That all should form a single soul. 

So Friendship is and should be prized. 

But seldom is it realized. 



DEW-SEA. 



Have you ever sailed on a sea of dew. 
When 'twas tinted like the heaven's blue ; 
In a gall< y formed from tiny wings. 
With wasp-fly's legs for lightest oars? 
And departed full of lovely things 
From the stamen-port and leafy-shores 
Of a Lily Queen? While a breezy bloom. 
Thick with a languorous perfume. 
Wafted far away thy pleasure ship ; 
Till stopped perchance by a butterflie's lip. 

Have you ever sailed on a sea of dew. 
With sunbeams for a happy crew I 
And a cargo too of golden smiles. 
While a hum-bird in the ovai'ies near. 
And a bee-drone from the honey-isles. 
Soft buzzed their music in thy ear. 
As you floated off from the leaf-edged port, 
Through crystal, hued in every sort; 
Not a ripple on the dew-sea's face. 
To mark thy galley's speed of grace. 

Have you ever sailed on a sea of dew. 
And been dazzled by the beauteous view 
Of a flowery shore ut goigeous dyes? 
While thy galley with its colored van. 
Like the eye-lid of a glow-worm's eyes ; 
And a prow-point, like the pointed fan 
Of a maiden-bee, along this sea. 
Sailed on, sailed on continuously ; 
If not wrecked ere long by a soft cheek's 

crush. 
Or a sighing lover's passion-flush. 



GOD'S PLAN.— "IN YOUTH."-COLUMBIA'S SONS. 



117 



In the dawn of light have you thusly sailed, 
When Heaven Aurora's presence hailed? 
Or sailed when the star-orbs pale aloft, 
A tremulous flow of lustre shed,; 
And tlie evening's duskiness so soft, 
Fold-like drooped stilly overhead; 
And a wan, wan moon, with face aglow 
From empyrean rapture gazed below? 
Hut it matters nought in the morn or eve, 
Such a sail is joy you may well believe. 



GOD'S PLAN. 

I once beheld the sun sink down 
Behind yon mountains bare and brown; 
And then within the ocean's wave, 
His golden locks all sportive lave. 
This brought my bosom holily, 
A touch of pure tranquility. 

So some great man doth end his days. 

As does the sun with loveliest rays. 

As brightly was his life begun ; 

As brightly too his life is done ; 

Thus with death's night they interweave. 

His glorious morn, his glorious eve. 

And yet he leaves a trace behind 
Of deeds which glorified his mind ; 
And nobler helped to make the men 
Who followed in his wake again. 
'Tis seldom that the good can be 
Chief else than of Morality. 

It ever formed God's mighty plan ; 
The great are great for good of man. 
So in their deeds that they may teach. 
So by their acts that they may preach. 
The world alike to do as they. 
Without reward, without display. 

And one by one the great have gone ; 
And one by one each followed on. 
Each meekly, in the other's steps. 
Walked on with still unopened lips. 
The glory of one did impart 
Like glory to the other's heart. 

Was not this godly Brotherhood, 
These noble men, these souls of good. 
Given to earth that we may learn. 
From them to pray for their return ; 
In others of the self-same kind. 
Alike in soul, alike in mind ? 



An earthly spirit surely. 
Formed radiantly, and purely. 
Formed chastely, and demurely. 
Like seraphs dwelling 
In heaven above. 

In youth there was a being, 
And hours were always fleeing. 
When she was in my seeing, 

She I adored. 
She always smiled so sadly. 
When I had, O too gladly, 
My passion told, yea madly ! 
But death before me 

Had implored ! 

Still I see that lovely spirit. 

And her gentle voice— I hear it — 

Till my rapture doth endear it 

Beyond price. 
Softly breathed were those accents. 
Thrilling me with joy intense. 
Throbbing me in every sense ; 
'Till earth did seem 

A paradise ! 

O those deep, and dark orbs throwing 
Beams, like stars of evening glowing ; 
And those classic features showing 

A mellow grace. 
Ah ! how like to Galatea, 
Pygmalion's beautiful idea ; 
Or the poets (^ytherea. 
How like, how like. 

In form and face ! 



"IX YOUTH. 

In youth there was a spirit 
From which I did inherit. 
For often was I near it. 
The power of love. 



COLUMBIA'S SONS. 

Columbia's sons-O hero men. 
And are thy weapons sheathed now ; 

And glories gained by valor then. 
Twined idly round thy frozen brow? 

What recks it if thy noble forms 
Are withered by the hand of death ; 

Since louder than the mightiest storms. 
Comes Approbation's mingled breath ! 

Undaunted did ye make a stand ; 

Unconquered did ye dying faU. 
Undinimed thy erlory in our land. 

That bravely followed Freedom's call. 

And million tongues, and million throats. 
And million hearts bear up the cry ; 

Which was thy martial bugle notes. 
Till echo beats against the sky. 

No doughty knights in mail arrayed. 
Whose arms alone with ardor shone ; 

But eager faces were displayed. 
Who answered well that mighty tone. 



118 



THE MOON.— THE SEASONS.— THE SILENT HALLS. 



And hands which never knew to wield 
The gleaming sword, or barelled gun. 

Marched bravely to the battle-field. 
And nobly fought, and grandly won ! 

Columbia's sons forever sleep. 

Who waved our Freedom's banner high. 
While other nations live to reap 

The bounty of their bravery. 

But generations following fast; 

And sons to fathers aged grown, 
Will look with joy upon the past. 

And consecrate those names alone. 

It is a great and glorious debt. 

Which joyfully we love to pay ; 
To glorify those heroes yet. 

Whose deeds shall never pass away. 



THE MOON. 

Dazzling queen, who reignst supreme. 

O'er heaven's realms of blue. 
Dazzling queen, whose every beam 

Seemeth purest dew, 
Though the stars around, combining. 
Their own brilliancy, are shining ; 
Thou art brighter, thou art clearer, 
Though?thy effulgence be nearer, 

'Tis more beauteous to view. 

In the azure Paradise, 

Transcendent dost thou reign. 
Exceeding in the cloudless skies. 

All evening's flaming train. 
All the clear-lit Avidth of space. 
Owns thy loveliness and grace ; 
And the crystal crown thou wearest. 
Makes thee of heaven's spheres the fairest, 

In all its blue domain. 

Glowing, beauteous, queen of light ! 

Flooding the milky way 
With brilliancy, until the night 
Becomes lovelier than the day. 
Divine maid of quenchless lusti'e. 
What troops of stars around the muster. 
And spears of light, and crests of flame. 
O'er heaven's plains all brightly gleam. 

In million thronged array. 

Goddess of the Universe ! 

By thy refulgent glow. 
The nun-clouds to their cells disperse, 

On the mountain's brow. 
In all thy purity of guise. 
Thou shinest to man's yearning eyes. 
Who worships thy chaste loveliness. 
And would clasp each silver-gleaming 
tress. 

Around thy diademed brow. 



And in thy crystal effulgence. 

My bosom doth enfold, 
A spirit's secret divulgence. 

Which shall remain untold. 
Thy beams ai-e sprinkled down like mist. 
And tinged with the hue of the amethyst. 
Till the beauteous lakes, where the pin- 
nacles 
Of mountains are their receptacles. 

Seem silver sheets unrolled. 

O fairest, O loveliest sphere of all; 

Transcendent queen of night ! 
Who crowns thee with a coronal 

Of stars all dewy-bright ; 
That round thee now their beams dis- 
tilling. 
All heaven's space with ight are filling. 
What wonder to the soul of one. 
Whom poets call Endymion, 

Thou wast a dear delight. 



THE SEASONS. 

Winter thinly clad and hoary, 
Siovvly climbs the mountain-steeps ; 

Till the sun in perfect glory, 
Melts his snow heart and he weeps. 

Spring in pity for his tears, 

Weaves around him fragrant flowers; 
Then beside his home she rears 

Fountains, spouting cooling showers. 

Summer envying her aged treasure. 
Garbs herself in golden smiles ; 

Winter yearning for new pleasure. 
Soon succumbs to her coy wiles. 

Autumn then, with softened charms. 

Jovial spurs for the contest ; 
'Till clasped in those yielding arms. 

Winter pants upon her breast. 

But she spurs him from her side. 
Wishing for a warmer mate; 

Him the roaring tempests guide 
To his own icicled gate. 

Snowy mantles close around him, 

He bewails his better pain ; 
Thus it was that Spring soon found him. 

And Avooed him to.herarms again. 



THE SILENT HALLS. 

The halls are still, and dead the sound 
Which once could wake the battle-ground. 
And hushed all mirth and revelry, 
And dumb the cries for victory. 
The pennant torn that yonder waves, 
Is fluttering o'er the warriors' graves ! 



PESLEPOLIS. 



119 



Here chieftains once with lofty brow. 
And eyes that beamed a martial arlovv. 
Their conv^erse hold ; of battles won ; 
Of battles lost ; till sank the sun. 
To idl}' pass the time away ; 
Time passes now above their clay. 

The dented shield, the pointed spear, 
The lute, whose music charmed the ear ; 
The armor brii^lit, the casque of steel ; 
Those forms of dust once warm with zeal ; 
The noble steeds so swift in speed ; 
Are covered now by moss and weed ! 

Come, play a long and solemn march, 
Like clouds that darken heaven's arch. 
Come, tune the harp for sadder strains 
Than ever bard swept o'er these plains. 
Until the skies high overhead. 
Will echo back ; •' They all are dead !" 

They all are dead, they all are dead. 

And long their spirits have been fled ! 

And empty is the festal-board ; 

And rusted is the fallen sword ; 

And cobwebbed are the musry rooms; 

And vine-draped are their mouldy tombs 

They all are dead and nobly died. 
Each warrior fighting side by side. 
And some who could no longer wield 
The gory arms, nor yet would yield ; 
By thouijhts heroic nobly flred. 
Cried "Victory" and then expired. 



And gods were worshipped by these godly 

men ; 
Could not Time space their ever-sacred 

shrine ? 
Are gods unmindful of men's proferred 

rites. 
Which did with essences of earth combine? 
The simple sacrifice by virgins then. 
Now for the civilized were vulgar 

sights. 

This fane is silent. Silence loves to dwell 

Amidst the ruins of those ancient days ! 

Its very stillness sadly seems to tell 

Our tongue but vainly utters forth its 

praise. 

Toppled in greatness, fallen, still as great, 

Are the stre\vn columns of this massy 

pile. 
Are the wrecked grandeurs of its shaken 

throne ; 
Which awe the pensive come to contem- 
plate 
The solemn dimness of each open aisle. 
Vast, wondrous, majestic, and alone ! 

Of forty columns reared in sculptured pride, 
N ot one remains in loftiness and stre ngth. 
They seem the epitah of those who died. 
Who reared this costly massiveness at 
length. 
O humbled temple, do you kiss the ground ? 
Is this the mightiest lowliest attitude ? 
Decayed and blighted is thy citadel ; 
I Its mutilated pillars cast around, 
I Veiled in their dreariness of solitude ; 
! A tale of sadness to the bosom tell. 



PESLEPOLIS. 

Thou shattered remnant of a glorious 
time. 

Colossal temple, crtimbline. overthrown ; 

In the unrrivished beauty of thy clime. 
We see the semblance of what was 
thine own. 

What buried monarchs trod this marble 
floor. 

What aged minstrels harped their music 
sweet. 
And hushed the whispers of its spacious 
halls. 

Or noble w^arrior bowed at beauty's feet. 

And told the tale, sweet tale forevermore. 
Ye heard while listening, speak O totter- 
ing walls ! 

Kings dvvelt within the recess of thy 
space, 
Where pipe and timbrel made soft har- 
mony. 
And here the erarden, weeded, we can 
trace ; 
Did not its bowers breathe of ecstacy? 



Demolished glory of a speechless age. 

Empires have flourished, thou hast seen 
them rise, 
And also fall beneath the ruder rage 

Of foemen kings, and king'ess dynasties. 
And thou art fallen now as low as they. 
The somber beauty of thj wildernsss. 

Is all that can thy glory-tale attest. 
We weep at what we would not wisn away. 
The desolation of thy loA'eliness, 

Brings us a grief unsoothed, unexpressed. 

Ye hoary relics whisper me the tale 

Which mystic legendry hath left untold. 

Did not the glorious in this fane of "Baal," 

Their mighty feastings for their triumphs 

hold? 

Thy sculptured arches have been crowned 

before 
With bay and laurel for the festival. 
The weed and nightshade bloom now in 
their place. 
To mar the beauty which we still adore. 
O would to heaven that this last were all. 
But pitiless Time must yet the rest efface ! 



120 



REWARD OF VIRTUE.— MORN. 



Thy sublime splendor, broken, overcast. 

Still throbs the bosom with a tiery love 
For its lone mightiness. Ye could not last. 

And thy solemnity is l':^ft to prove 
Thy ancient glory. Temple rise again, 
The devastation shall not be complete. 

Though thou art fallen, like a spirit rise ! 
Alas ! the echoes wake the dismal plain ; 
Homeward ye wanderer turn thy weary 
feet. 

Vain here your homilies and sorrow 
sighs ! 



REWARD OF VIRTUE. 

Strive as you may. 

But slowly, surely, will the years. 
Hoary and gray ; 

Bow you beneath their weight of tears. 

Struggle awhile. 

The bitter truth will dawn at last; 
And none will smile. 

Or cheer thee on as in the past. 

hy 

Why should the aged bear a grief, 
In youth few know. 
Because their life is ever brief 1 

Time should not leave 

A mark, or but a furrowed brow ; 
And never grieve. 

The heart by deeper sterner woe. 

But 'tis our doom, 

Forwarned of which we should prepare 
To meet death's gloom. 

With conscience spotless in its glare. 

Then we would find. 

However dark became the way ; 
Before, behind. 

Our soul would be the purest ray. 

And lead us on. 

Safely and surely, till at last 
The present gone ; 

The future would be like the past. 

Sinless, unstained, 

And joyous as it was of yore. 
Though doubts remained. 

They soon were ended evermore. 

A holier light, 

A happier consciousness of bliss; 
Would lead us right. 

Through such a dreary world as this. 

The eternal seat. 

Beneath the very soul of God ; 
Our soul would meet. 

When parted from its form of sod. 



Who would not spurn 

Unnoble thoughts and ranker sin; 
If but to earn 

The blessedness we all can win? 

By doing good. 

And following in Virtue's path ; 
Nor let the flood 

Pour on us of his holy wrath ! 

Expurge the soul ; 

Cleansed it will be fit to shine 
Neath the control, 

And sacredness of Him divine. 



MORN. 



Earth's morn is like our being's morn ; 
Pure, radiant whose smiles adorn 
The very place whereon they dwell. 
With joy and charm unspeakable. 

Yes, like the features of a child. 

So innocent and uiidefiled ! 

Whose freshness brings a tender bloom 

Of jov, where sorrow wrought its gloom. 

The light of dawn, the love of life. 
So early in the worldly strife ; 
The cheer of those who think the day 
Presages darkness on their way. 

Come forth into the clear and muse. 
On lovely morning and its use. 
It takes not long to comprehend 
There are few wrongs we cannot mend. 

We all are here for doing good. 

For such is life's similitude. 

And morns may be the brighter, cleai'er. 

Than those of youth, but never dearer. 

Rise with the morn, or see it rise ; 
Light chasing darkness from the skies. 
And hear the birds in forests sing. 
As on the boughs they lightly spring. 

Exale the perfume of the flowers. 
Tread favorite walks among the bowers: 
Or list the rippling ci\vstal-brook. 
Issuing from a copse's nook. 

We all alas! must pass away. 
So does the morn, so does the day. 
Yet though night after them descend, 
This doth not juean our life hath end. 

He who is one of thoughtful mood. 
After such beauty hath been viewed, 
Confesses to a Supreme Will ; 
Which is His guardian still. 



THE NETTLE.-ZELICA.— COLUMBUS. 



121 



Do hopes like in youth's morningr thrive, 
When at life's eve we do arrive ? 
Like mornings beauties so they flee. 
But nobler thoughts then come to thee. 

Yet in morn is a sacred cheer. 
No quiet eve can make as dear ; 
A bloom of life, a life of love. 
Harmonious as the realms above. 

Awake at morn, when Nature wakes. 
From mountain-peaks to purest lakes ; 
From vale to vale, from hill to hill, 
From cataract to purling rill. 

Morning has charms all must discern. 
Evening but w.-its for morn's return ; 
Morn"s life is all a happy glow. 
Eve's life a pensive one below. 

Each new-born bud. each spouted leaf, 
A lesson teaches, true, though brief. 
Each songster's tuneful song is praise 
For God and his mysterious ways. 

Give me the morning for it brings 
To life all earthly-living things. 
Give me the morn, I love it best 
For loveliness it hath expressed. 



THE NETTLE. 



Why is it that this plant is scorned, 
Because 'tis unadored. 
By all the grace and loveliness. 
Which other flowers possess ; 
And fated too to bud and bloom, 
Without their rich perfume? 

O look between its scentless leaves 

And see how much it grieves ! 

It downward bends its prickly head. 

As if grief-dead. 

Alas without one single grace. 

Is all its race. 

And yet why should we turn aside 
From those such things denied? 
It hath no beauty like the rose. 
And none like her to lose. 
Jiut like it breathes the osier-breath. 
To fade away in death. 

Of all the flowers which uprear. 

This is less dear. 

It never graced love's rosy bower. 

At evening's hour. 

Or blushed amidst the golden hair 

Of maiden fair. 



How many like this plant hath grown, 

Friendless, alone. 

Suffered amidst their soul's belief. 

One bitter grief. 

Blessed by the sun which shines above. 

But not by love. 

I cannot press it to my breast, 

Like all the fragrant ]"est. 

Its stings repress all such caress, 

Why, we can guess. 

It tells us that our own disdain, 

Is thus returned again. 



ZELICA. 



Nay. whisper the name, for the accents are 
holy. 

And sacred the form who retained it 
through life ; 

She passed fiom our eyes like a dream fad- 
ing slowly. 

Unconsciously missing the woes of its 
strife. 

A flower retaining both fragrance and 
beauty, 

Y'et withering calmly in tender decay ; 

Existing by w^Dl of a diviner duty. 

Then fading in pureness like moonbeams 
away. 

Nay, ask not her tale, she herself whis- 
pered sadly 
The naiue of the being who blighted her 

all; 
Though I know that before she had spoken 

it gladly. 
As spirits which hold a young bosom in 

thrall. 
But weep if you can ; Pity's drops will not 

perish. 
The ground though exorbing can nurture 

again ; 
For here are some flowers which fondly 

we cherish. 
To show that onr own were not shed all 

in vain. 



COLUMBUS. 

TO HIS SEAMEN. 

There lies the land before us. 

The land we came to seek ; 
Too beautiftil and glorious. 

For human tongue to speak ! 
We left our sons and daughters. 

We left our wives behind ; 
And crossed the unknown waters. 

This lovely land to find. 



122 



ONE.—" O DO NOT WEEP."—" O I OFT HOPE. 



Ah ! men ye once denied me 

The truth of what I said ; 
But standing now beside me, 

Truth speaks itself instead ! 
Our galley was tlie fi-ailest 

Which crossed the desert- waves: 
Yet now with me thou hailest. 

This clime of Indian braves. 



Ye trembled at the peril, 

When great before thy eyes ; 
Nor knew the dawn would herald. 

Unto you such a prize. 
And there it lies before us, 

The land of ocean-birth ; 
Where nations shall adore ns. 

As newer gods on earth. 



Grand temples formed of gold. 

And shrines of jewels rare; 
Treasures no ship can hold. 

Will gi-eet our entrance there. 
Although my heart was strongest. 

In seeking for the soil ; 
Still, still to thee belongest 

This dazzling splendor-spoil. 



For me I look upon her. 

With different joyful eyes; 
For this must bring me honor. 

And such as glorifies ! 
O what are aspirations. 

If they do not succeed? 
Now other unborn nations. 

Will honor me indeed. 



Bend down and offer prayers 

To Him enthroned above ! 
Ah ! now what seamen dares 

To disbelieve His love? 
When through the ocean billows, 

Our galley safely passed ; 
Tdl to where this land pillows 

Its head, we came at last. 



Bend down your knees and lowly ; 

Are ye ashamed to pray? 
Who doubted guidance holy. 

Amidst the ocean's fray. 
There lies the Land before us. 

The land we came to seek ; 
Too beautiful and glorious, 

Than even I can speak ! 

O lovely Land of Ocean, 

Fulfilled is my behest ! 
And thrilling with emotion, 

I view my life time's quest. 
There, there it lies in beauty. 

Thanks, God, to Thee to-day; 
Who, whilst I did my duty 

Cast glory on the way. 



ONE. 

A flower blooming lonely. 
By the bright sunshine kissed; 

A flower fading only. 
Which died and was not missed. 

So are we midst the many 

Existing upon earth ; 
All doomed to die as any. 

As soon as we have birth! 



"O DO NOT WEEP." 

do not weep because we part ! 
Far rather in the course of years, 

Retain me in thy loving heart; 
Than have thy eyes suffused in tears. 

Tis not the drops that well from eyes. 
Which show the bosom's deepest 
grief ; 

No in the breast itself it lies. 
A sorrow beyond all belief. 

The flowers beneath a leafy lid, 
Retain the honey bees must borrow 

And even grief when thusly hid. 
Becomes a sweeter purer sorrow. 

Then do not weep because we part ! 
It doth suffice for me to know 

1 leave behind one faithful heart. 
That cherished me through all of woe. 

One faith fill heart, one loving soul, 

A gem as heavenly as pure. 
Let years their clouds above me roll ; 
W^hat now cannot my breast endure ? 

This parting though 'twill be the last. 

Must be the first of darker days. 
Yet memory and all its past, 

VV ill cheer the future with its rays. 



"0 1 OFT HOPE." 

O I oft hone though after years 
Darken my life with sorrow's gloom ; 

They will not bring thee bitter tears. 
To waste thee in thy beauty's bloom ! 

Although I live in loving thee. 
And meet no recompense for such; 

Let burdens fall alone on me. 
May you not wither from their touch. 



IMPROMPTU.— TO 



-TO LELIA.— ALAS !— TO 



123 



For they who sweetest hopes can buoy, 
And make this earth a paradise ; 

Although they be our dearest joy, 
Must also fade before our eyes. 

Alas ! T cannot give thee life 

Upon this earth eternally ; 
For this thought pierces like a knife. 

Though fair thou too must cease to be ! 

Yet may thou meet thy joy in this. 

Ere to a brighter region flown ; 
For thee may life retain its bliss, 

Its worst of woe for me alone. 



IMPROMPTU. 

ON A lady's kerchief. 

Alas ! that such a fragrant thing 
The tender heart should capture : 

And keep it ever fluttering 
'Neath love's intensest rapture. 

A simple little cambric— all— 
And yet my heart enchaining. 

And holding it in closest thrall 
With all of hope's complaining. 

As spotless as its place of rest. 

Where fancy ever throned it ; 
As fragrant as the lips it pi-essed, 

As frail as she who owned it. 



TO 



I cannot brook to view thy eyes. 
Unanswered gaze upon their beam ; 

For nought of love therein replies. 
Nor aught of what my soul doth dream. 

I cannot brook to view thy cheeks. 
Unblushing ever turned to mine ; 

more than that my bosom seeks ! 

For eyes and cheeks too cold combine. 

1 cannot brook to view thy lips 
U 11 speaking ever to my sighs : 

Nor see their glistening dewy drips. 
Like fragrance from the balmy skie§. 

I cannot brook to view that breast 
Unheaving at my footsteps near; 

For snows thereon forever rest. 
That never gave me aught of cheer. 

For every glance on thee I cast, 

A.re pangs that rend my heart in twain : 
As I have found too late at last, 

My loving doth but give thee pain. 



So must I turn my eyes from thine, 

For if T look. O God ! tis true- 
Incoherently I call thee mine, 
Yea, mine, and mine, and mine anew ! 



TO LELIA. 

Away, away, thy angel charms ! 

Those heavenly looks and eyes away ! 
Thy presence near my soul alarms. 

It would but cannot bid thee stay. 

Thy orbs may beam through brightest blue. 
Thy cheeks beneath their blushes glow. 

Thy lips be glistening with the dew,' 
Thy breast unveil its spotless snow. 

But yet thou must, thou must be gone. 

"Twere treachery to bid thee stay; 
Since I have vowed to shrine alone 

My love within a living clay ! 



ALAS! 



There was a time, I need not say, 
My heart has known the bliss of love. 

But ah, 'twas fate that bore away 
That virgin shape to skies above. 

There was one soul I claimed as mine, 

But destiny forbade her live ; 
Though still I see her image shine 

With radiance as she used to give. 

There was one heart that throbbed for me. 
Two cheeks that flushed when I drew 
near ; 

Two orbs that shone all sparklingly. 
Two lips that gave me sweetest cheer. 

But now she rests within her tomb. 

Her lustre stil before me shining ; 
Which oft dispels the somber gloom 

That comes in my sad bosom's pining. 



TO 



Tn thy radiance of charms I behold thee. 
Like a flower dew-drenched in the morn ; 
Hut so sweetly doth sorrow enfold thee. 
That scarce would I wish it be gone. 
AVere it not that I know thy fair bosom. 
Unaccustomed to feel such a pain. 
Would wither, like some tender blossom 
Overburdened with showers of rain. 



124 



TO MISS 



-.— PENSIERI. 



So much does thy sorrow become thee. 
So bright are thy eyes through their tears ; 
That I reck not how they may benumb thee, 
And smile in the 'midst of thy fears, 
bo fair though so pale in thy gi'ieving 
Art thou, that I must doubt my eyes ; 
And thy beauty confirmed all believing, 
Knew 1 not where thy sorrow most lies 

If thou art so fair when thus weeping, 
How fairer when joyous with smiles ; 
For like to a maiden calm sleeping. 
Toy beauty 'midst sorrow beguiles. 
The features in grief become tender; 
The eyes beam wjth milder a glow ; 
Yet can I but wish joy to render 
To thee all that happier know. 



TO MISS . 

ON HER BIRTHDAY. 

May Time for thee on golden wings 
Speed on ; yet not too speedily. 

Nor Sorrow come to thee, who brings 
His griefs sometimes unheedily. 

And all the gladness and the bloom 
Of Happiness and Love be thine ; 

Like incense shedding its perfume 
From Womanhood's virginal shrine. 

And all the months, and all the years, 
That haply yet will dawn for thee. 

Be welcomed not with bitter tears; 
But radiant smiles of purity, 

So like a flower, which the Hand 
Of God had willed should have its birth. 

Thou happily mayst understand 
Thou art as angels are on earth. 



PENSIERL 

Because I have thought, and I find that 
each day 
That I am but a thought in myself ; then 
alas ! 
Shall I think that those thoughts have 
been wasted away. 
Like a moment which lingers but only 
to pass? 
E'en the sun ere it sets, beams a tenderer 
ray 
On the gloom of the sky, on the green of 
the grass. 



But a thought ! Is it all ? Is the mind but 
a thought ? 
From the thought of a Thought once 
created divine. 
Or the bauble of Time, and the essence of 
aught 
Which hath been, which shall be, till 
the sun cease to shine. 
We have mingled our Wisdom. My Wis- 
dom was nought 
'Till thy own gave it seed; so thy own 
came from mine. 



Yet a thought but exists as a thought can 
exist. 
As a phantom perhaps yet a thought 
just the same, 
Y'^ou will say 'tis a ray that has pierced 
through the mist. 
As the gloi'y of One whom we know but 
in name. 
We have senses to speak, touch, smell, see 
with, and list ; 
Is a thought part of them, or a part of 
the frame ? 



Quite apart. Better still. Better still, if 
apart ! 
Yet apart from what essence cognizant 
to us? 
If a thought be a thought, as a heart is a 
heart. 
Is the thought then apart as that organ 
is thus? 
I am thought, thou art thought: as I am, 
so thou art ; 
Thought and thought: What amount 
will arise from the plus? 



Yet a thought in itself, if created expands 
To an infinite thought, if infinitely 
willed. 
And eternal itself, as eternally stands. 
Like an essence of God from His essence 
distilled. 
As refulgent and pui'e as the azure which 
bands 
Every planet in glory when ether is 
thrilled. 



I have thought; and I thought that I was 
but a thought 
From which I was born; in which 
thought I V ill die. 
Have I blindly discerned? Is our reason- 
ing nought ? 
Really nothing alas! of this my.-tical 
"I?" 
Be it so. I have never yet found what I 
sought. 
And I never may find what I seek for 
and sigh. 



LOVE AND HATE.— TO LESBIA.— SILENTNESS.— THE HARP. 125 



LOVE AND HATE. 

Love did weave himself a crown. 
Wreathing it with thorns; 

Saying. "This will bring me down 
Multitudine-scorns." 

Hate did weave himself a crown, 

Glittering with pearls; 
Saying, " Men shall bow them down 
To my jewelled curls." 

Love did build a simple shrine 

Worshipping himself. 
Saying, " He who is divine 

Love I ; not man's pelf." 

Hate did build a gorgeous shrine, 

And his subject bid 
Bring no love, but purples fine 

To this pyramid. 

Was a God who reigned above, 

Ruling every fate ; 
He immortally blessed Love, 

Eternally cursed Hate ! 



TO LESBTA. 

Like roses breathing fragrant musk, 
Like ivy wreathed dark as dusk ; 
Silver lilies decked with white ; 
Dewy daisies golden bright ; 
JJatfodillies drooping slender. 
Is my Lesbia pure and tcTider. 
Pansies have no sweet blooming ; 
Violets in the silvered gloaming. 
Equal not my fairy, roaming. 
Blushing Lesbia ; and her smile, 
Like some beauty circled isle 
On a light crystalline sea ; 
Where gold-feathered songsters flee, 
Gently trills my drooping heart. 
Like the sunshine oft doth part 
Misty curtains in the air. 
To display his brilliant glare. 
On the aspers gently falling. 
Ere the cooRoos go a-calling. 
Thou art more angelic fair ; 
Silks are envied by thy hair. 
Blushing Lesbia, Lesbia mine; 
Rosy as is nectar-wine. 
Here I clasp thee in a kiss. 
Twined like oak and ivy is. 
Fairest dewbell, fragrant flower. 
Purest being. Virtue's bower; 
Clad like elfin fairy's dell. 
Sweetest Lesbia, sweet farewell. 



SILENTNESS. 



How silently the night pervades. 

How beauteous is her reign ; 
From sky to mounts, from mounts to glades 

Then over earth's domain. 



How loudly do the billows roar 

Around the weedy rocks ; 
How bravely doth the towering shore 

Withstand the ocean's shocks. 

How softly do the Zephyrs blow, 

The thickly scented breeze ; 
How brightly doth the night-queen show, 

Beneath these giant trees. 

How fragrant is the sweet perfume 

Of dew-bespangled flowers ; 
Which ever gently bud and bloom 

Amidst these sylvan bowers. 

How lofty do the mountains seem 

At distance from our view ; 
Like warrior-kings some fitful dream 

Resenteth us anew. 



How hoarsely doth the owlet's hoot 

Fall on the listening ear ; 
And every tree seem sentries mute 

To guard the darkness here. 

How still the night, but how more still 
The one who contemplates the whole ; 

And blesseth the Almighty Will 
That gave hmi an immortal soul ! 



THE HARP. 

Strike the harp with its symphony of 
melodious sweetness : 
Wake the woods and the valleys to rap- 
turous joy; 
Let the numbers pour forth like a swallow 
in fleetness, 
Let the strain like pure ripples our 
lonely heart buoy. 

Pour the music in streams to the star- 
sparkling heaven. 
On the Zephyr's lap let each cadence 
repose ; 
Not in vain are such paeans of ecstacy 
given. 
To replenish with joy the soul tinctured 
with woes. 



126 THE HAPPIER CHOICE.— TO A WAIF.— TO A FLOWER. 



On the sea's silver waves of refulgence 
reclining, 
Rocked to sleep by the billows which 
heavingly flow ; 
When that balmy dew-lamp in the dis- 
tance is shining. 
And its beams gently fall like long 
tresses below, 

When the mountains revive neath their 
silvery glances. 
Which like fawns swiftly pass over 
bowers and dells ; 
How the harp with its music our spirit 
entrances, 
How each fibre responds to its tremu- 
lous swells. 

How the witching enchantment awakes 
the devotion 
Which had long been withheld in the 
bosom at rest ; 
How the beats of the heart tinge the 
cheeks with emotion. 
Bringing forth with new ardor pure 
feelings repressed. 

Strike the harp O Apollo, be each tone 
reverberated. 
Through the grots where the nymphs 
and the Dryads caress ; 
Be thy music like Pity's best tears for 
Love fated. 
And the life which we live shall exist- 
ence seem less. 



THE HAPPIER CHOICE. 

When Fortune deigns to smile on one, 
Conceit oft swells him so in state. 

That scarce comparing with the sun. 
He deems himself at least as great. 

But he who born under the roof 
Of Poverty, and what she brings. 

Retains such thoughts, and keeps aloof 
From glory's emptiness of things. 

And Wealth for him contains no charms ; 

Him more the humble cot doth please, 
Than wantoning in Pleasure's arms ; 

Which seldom is a life of ease. 

Nor Splendor decked with fawning smiles, 

Her princely person to adorn ; 
Will lure him from his usvial toils. 

To cast him otF with bitter scorn. 

Content with his day's labored store. 

And happiness it can produce ; 
He joys in that, nor asks for more, 

Nor finds for more a fitting use. 



Nor yearns for more than Nature's yield 
To honest arms like his doth giv^e ; 

Content to mow the furrowed field. 
He lives the only life to live. 



TO A LONELY WAIF. 

Poor orphan of a fickle hour. 
Subservient to Chance's fickle power ; 
Or storms which may around thee lower, 

I pity thee ! 
Come, shelter again from this rude shower 

With me. 

Thy life hath been a changeful fate ; 
'Tis but the change we all may rate. 
And that may be or soon or l^te ; 

Kut some 
Succumb ere that life's heaviest weight 

Has come. 

But do not w^eep ; a distant day. 
Now scarcely seen by Hope's dim ray. 
Will come to cheer thee on thy way ; 

And 7iight 
With all its griefs will fade away 

From sight. 

Then sorrow not, nor let despair 
Possess a youth though pale, to fair ; 
But turn to the Almighty there, 

And pray! 
For He alone the clouds of air 

Can clear away. 



TO A FLOWER. 

Fair flower, 
Wert thou not her dear gift. 

This very hour 
Would 1 set thee adrift ! 

But every leaf 
Must fondly cherished be. 

Although my grief 
Repress sweet thoughts of thee. 

I cannot weep, 
Nor can I let my heart rejoice ; 

Thee will I keep. 
Since that thou wert my sweet one's choice. 

Thee will I cherish, 
Then fondly in my bosom rest ; 

Until thou perish 
Like this lone heart within my breast. 

Wert she not dead. 
Though false or frail, I could rejoice. 

But now instead 
I sadly kiss the leaflets moist ; 

Thy bloom is fled. 
As hers thou art but love's dumb voice. 



THE KISS.-FAME.-MAY.-DEATH'S VICTORIES.-A KIND WORD. 127 



THE KISS. 

What's in a fond kiss but a sweet moment's 
pleasure, 
A fleeting delirium thrilling our frame ; 
Which memory cherishes as Some price- 
less treasure. 
That vvcnt just as swiftly as blissful it 
came. 

Still it grows on the lips like some fra- 
grant flower, 
Whuse seed hath been spilled like dew- 
drops on the ground ; 
Can you wonder that thoughts will stray 
back to the hour 
When two loving hearts by that warm 
kiss were bound. 

When eyes looked to eyes and red was 
each cheek. 
And the heart beat the faster beneath 
the pure glow ; 
Our breasts are more sad, and our life is 
more bleak. 
As we ponder on what could have been 
and is now. 



FAME. 



Fame is like a golden cup. 

Containing nectar there; 
And after we have drained a drop 

Its fumes dissolve to air. 

It seems to lift our yea;ning frames 
Above the lowering clouds; 

But most of tlie immortal names 
Of Fame are 'neath the shrouds. 

O sing a simple ballad-song 

For worldliness and woe; 
And then if truth be right or wrong, 

Fame's rapture will you know. 



Thy trickling words are like a rill 
Of clearest water, passing through 

A valley fair. A sweeter trill 
Than ever winging singer knew. 

Thou blithsome, wilful, blissful, merry. 
Tripping, dancing, bouncing May ; 

Thou fluttering, twittering, little fairy, 
Thou dearest, purest mortal gay. 

Thou bloom of morn, thou blush of rose. 
Thou ray of light ; thou beauty-dream; 

Thou sparkling elf; thy presence throws 
A warmth o'er earth like summer's beam. 

Thy speech is joy, thy face a heaven. 
Thy eyes the bright refulgent sun ; 

Yet Love in vain hath always given 
His heaviest sighs to call thee won. 



DEATH'S VICTORIES. 

Down from the mountains of the North 

The warrior came that burning day ; 
Up from the South in ranks went forth 

Their valiant foe prepared for fray. 
They met, they fought, the battle-plain 
Was strewn with dying and with slain ; 
AVhen set the red and weary sun. 
Death grimly smiled and said *' I won ?" 

Still was the riot, and the wail 

Came from within the castle-walls ; 
A king was bleeding, dying, pale, 
Within its dim ancestral halls ! 
A beggar's hand had spilt his blood, 
A beggar's head fell where he stood ; 
When Night arrived the king was none. 
Death grimly smiled and said *' I won !" 

i Twin brothers, of good parents born, 
Divided where man's life begins ; 

One lived as virtuous as the morn. 
In crime the other, stained with sins ; 

One died in honor and in wealth ; 

The other poor in worth and health ; 

Each differently their races run. 

But Death still smiled and said "I won !' 



MAY 



Thou loving, romping, playful May, 

Thou bonny, buxom maid ; 
Why do you ever seem to stray 

From me as if afraid? 

Thou roguish, dimpled, joyous child, 
Thou lithsome. winsome creature; 

Thou elfln fairy, nature-wild. 
With laxighter's gleam in every feature. 



A KIND WORD. 

Can you tell me why diamonds though 
found in the dust. 
May be polished and brushed till they 
radiantly shine ; 
While a maiden whose name hath been 
tarnished by lust. 
Though no culprit, still lower must virtue 
resign ? 



128 



IN THE WOODS.-THE SNOW.-LELIA'S WAITING. 



Is a human less precious than brilliant or 
stone, 
Which for years in the dust or the mire 
has lain ? 
Perchance she once more precious as chas- 
tilj" shone, 
And a kind word would help her youth's 
lustre regain. 

Then spurn not a maiden though tainted by 
sin, 
And the dust and defaming of Virtue's 
sad fall : 
For a heart may be found her sad bosom 
within. 
That if brightened would glow just as 
purely as all. 



IN THE WOODS. 

There is a solemn stillness in these woods 

Which haunts my wind; 
A somber stillness that forever broods 

Upon the wind ; 
When falling cascades and their floods 

Are left behind. 

There is a fragrant incence in the air. 

Filling the breast ; 
A heavy thick-spread odor everywhere. 

Lulling to rest 
The mind of pensiveness, and tear-eyed 
Care 

That constant guest. 

There are long trembling shadows of the 
trees 
Upon the ground ; 
There are still murmurous whispers on 
the breeze, 
And groves around ; 
Like unseen harps with holiest melodies, 
A heavenly sound. 

And forms which seem to haunt the 
glade. 

In stoles of white ; 
There are bright dews on flowers laid, 

Like stars of night ; 
And high-hung nests in patience made, 

Half hid from sight. 

And one small brook which floweth by 

With rippling pace ; 
And bending flowers that seem to lie 

In its embrace ; 
And feathered throngs which flutter by 

In winging grace. 



There are— what magic pen can tell 

All that there are ; 
To make the saddened bosom swell 

For scenes afar ; 
The hope in holier grounds to dwell, 

Which nought can mar. 



THE SNOW. 

Like an angel robed in glory. 
Swift descends the silent snow ; 

Fi'om old Winter's hea\ en-hung atory 
To the open plains below. 

To the fields and to the roof 

Of the houses ami the trees ; 
On the mountains earthquake proof. 

Hither, thither, with the breeze. 

Shaken from the sunlit air. 
Myriads fall in streaks of white ; 

Covering earth o'er everywhere. 
Contrast to the veil of Night. 

On the fields and on the meadow. 

Falls it gently from above ; 
Seeming like the graceful shadow 

Of what heaven liath for love. 

Through the day and through the night; 

Still I see the snow descending ; 
Flakes which looked on by the light 

Seem with rainbow colors blending. 

Brightly fall then dew of air. 
Drape in white the fields awhile; 

Thou art but the harbinger 
Of fair Spring's returning smile. 



LELIA'S WAITING. 

Long nights wei e passed, and longer days, 
That browned the hills and golden plains ; 
Then brought their cloud-cars full of rains. 
Which dimmed the skies, and hushed the 

lays 
Of merry songsters midst the trees; 
Since noble Richard crossed the seas, 
And had not j^et returned. 

Long nights, which brought their shower 

of tears 
Alike to earth and Lelia fair. 
With days sped on, and marked the years, 
And tinged with grey her golden hair. 
While graven lines were on her bi"ow. 
And sorrow filled her heart of snow, 
To tell how much she yearned. 



IT WAS A KISS.— DECORATION DAY. 



129 



The path they once were wont to tread 
Was foot- worn by her ceaseless walk. ; 
The Uist fnrewell which lie had said, 
AVas all she even deigned to talk. 
The cheek where he had pressed a kiss. 
Alone the rose-bloom none could iniss. 
All else was pale. 

The flowery brook which murmured by 
Her favorite place was all the day ; 
Here day-long did she pensive lie. 
Like some dew-pearl mching away; 
Or as the moon when sinking down 
Behihd the hill-tops, bare and brown, 
And lowly vale. 

And day by day, and night by night 
She passed away ; a faii"er flower 
Than any Nature buds to sight, 
Within some fragrant orange-bower. 
And night by night, and day by day. 
Did beauty more angelic play, 
Around her features. 

Her Richard came, he came too late, 

Another One had made a claim ; 

Which made him mourn life's bitter fate, 

But still to her 'twas all the same. 

Not long in sickness did she lie. 

But calmly, sweetly, purely die; 

One of God's creatures ! 



IT W^AS A KISS. 

It was a kiss and nothing more ; 

But borne upon the wings of Love, 
It roved the heart and bosom o'er. 

As love through hearts alone can rove. 

It was a kiss, a fleeting kiss, 
A moment's pleasure it is true; 

Yet years had never known such bliss, 
Nor longer years could such renew. 

It was a kiss, a transient thing. 
That haunts the very lips which met; 

For when returned, it aye can bring 
Upon those lips its sweetness yet. 

It was a kiss, but when the eyes 

Of two. whose thoughts and souls are one. 
Gaze into each; between these skies 

It trembling hangs a golden sun. 

And without this no joyful day 
Had come to cheer the hearts of both ; 

And love-fed thus, it was a ray 
To seal the bridal of their troth. 



DECORATION DAY. 

Come deck the strange, yes strew each 

grave 
With flowers fit to crown the brave! 
Cast many a fragrant wreath. 
Above these forms beneath ; 
Above the heroes who so nobly bled. 

One flag waves over every form ; 

One flag whose folds beat pulse-like, 

warm. 
While fluttering on the wind. 
One flrtg for every glorious mmd. 
Alike for livizig and heroic dead. 

This is the day when every cheek 

Grows pale for what the bearers seek ; 

And many an eye is dim ; 

And many a warrior grim. 

All sadly sheds a battle-comrades tear. 

Let i-anks of men in somber file, 

March down each graveyard's pebbly 

aisle ; 
Until tht-y grieving stand. 
A scarred and silent band ; 
Before the warriors shrouded in their bier. 

Bring forth your wreaths, this sacred 

ground 
By flowery coronets must be crowned; 
Each soldier wrong or wright. 
Still battled with a noble might; 
And Time does honor to each glorious 

deed. 

Tread silently and sadly slow ; 
For this becomes a day of woe. 
For still the nation weeps. 
And in her bosom keeps. 
Remembrance of these heroes' battle- 
meed. 

They fought and fell we know no rest 

Than glory throbbed each swelling breast ! 

No difference do we know. 

Between the friend and foe ; 

We come to decorate each soldier's grave. 

And thpse are they, each cherished mould 

In fanciness we yet behold ; 

The ranks of battle then ; 

The ranks of eager men, 

Who won the title of Columbia's brave. 

Maid, mother, wife, child, comrade all, 

Who sorrow at their glorious fall ; 

The emblem of their woe. 

Place o'er each form below. 

The lowly are thej" not reverenced still? 

They fought, they fell ; can we forget 

Their deeds, their noble valor yet ! 

Each hero in his grave. 

Helped free a helpless slave. 

So was the blessings of His mighty Will. 



130 



RUINS. 



RUINS. 

Through all tlie reign of ancient kings, 

through all their reign or pride, 
What horrid woe, what waste of life, what 

darkness is desciied ; 
Had they beheld themselves the deeds. 

they done devoid of shame. 
Perhaps they had i-estrained their arms 

and glorified the same. 

Were marble monuments upreared, that 
that they might stand to show 

The vanity of tyrant men, the pride of 
kings below? 

Was Cheop's tomb on Afric's sands up- 
reared by toil of years. 

Placed there to show how weak they were, 
those ancient monarchers? 

They little deemed how other men would 

penetrate the veil, 
That hath obscured the truth of all the 

ages and their tale ; 
They little deemed how time would weigh 

the difference of their reign. 
And treat their foolish hope of fame with 

mockery's disdain. 

The Nile forever rolls along, but palaces 
of old 

Are overthrown, a ruined mass, a miser- 
able mound 

Of all the wealth of Egypt's kings which 
also must return 

Unto thi- dust fi'om which they rose, like 
theirs without an urn. 

And scarce a stone remains to show on 
Asia's sacred soil. 

The city of the Hebrewites upreared by 
slavish toil; 

Theirs was the basest pride of all, to rear 
above the sod 

A tower that should reach the skies in sac- 
rilege to God. 

The temples of Persepolis, and Nero's gol- 
den home. 

Are fallen both and desolate, beneath the 
azure dome ; 

The temple of Jerusalem, the temple of the 
sun, 

At Tadmor in the wilderness, for aye alike 
are none. 

Of hundred -gated Thebe of old, and Tyre- 
in all her fame ; 

Of Nineveh and Anathon, what now re- 
mains to claim 

A single word of praise or joy at their mag- 
nificence ; 

But ruin meets the pilgrim's eye, and stills 
his eloquence. 



And round Palmyi'a's lonely mass the 

arid-desert's plain 
Surrounding it witn barrenness, mocks all 

which does x'emain ; 
O would the sun when rising high above 

the Euphrates, 
Looked never down, or shed his rays on 

such drear scenes as these ! 



So Ascalon and Berytus and Sidon too are 

gone ; 
And nought remains where once they stood, 

except some temple's stone; 
Or column wrecked, or e lifice, or pilasters 

around. 
The epitah above the tomb of ruin on the 

ground. 

And Memphis, seat of learning once, on 

Egypt's sandy soil 
Has fallen long as low as these. Time's 

capital and spoil ; 
Ecbatana whose mighty wall towered 

round, her sevenfold. 
Exists but as a shadow of her grander self 

of old. 

The Pantheon, O classic fame ! the future 

too must steal 
The beauties which its marble walls, 

though tarnished, still reveal ; 
And Rome's colossal hoary pile, once dinned 

with voice, is mute. 
And its arena sees no more humans com- 

battiijg brute. 

O glorious names ! since but the names of 

these remains to tell 
The splendur they possessed of yore, which 

Time cannot dispel. 
Illustrious works ! of thy renown we only 

can discern 
The truth in all thy sad display, the truth 

not sweet to learn. 



The pomp of kings, their prided pomp, 

those shadows of a day. 
What now remains to show the world 

their majesty of sway? 
Perchance a leaf, a page, a scroll, some 

hoary seer hath writ. 
Recalls their name; but all their works 

have crumbled bit by bit. 



If generations only live like these at last 
to fall. 

Until Oblivion spreads her shades of dark- 
ness over all ; 

What fits it then to war for wealth or 
kings to war for pride? 

When Time will lay them with their 
slaves, as equal, side by side. 



SONG.— A NOVICE. 



131 



We can achieve a nobler fame, though not 
in battle's strife; 

For he is nobler hero still who lives a vir- 
tuous life. 

And ^i\ es to God his homage due, and 
though with sword or pen, 

Still glorities his name and deeds by char- 
ity to men. 



SONG. 



My eyes are red with weeping, love. 

My heart aches in my breast ; 
For p ights and nights no sleeping, love. 

Hath soothed it to rest. 
Of life I am aweary, Jove, 

Since all its joys have flown ; 
Each day returns more dreary, love. 

That hnds me thus alone. 

Not all the star-lights shining, love. 

Above me in their glow; 
Can number bosoms pining, love. 

Upon the earth below. 
To-night the moon seems clearer, love. 

But darker in my breast ; 
With thee who art the dearer, love. 

My frame would be at rest. 

Like sunbeams through the ether, love. 

Our way was just as bright ; 
Our thoughts were pure together, love. 

Our souls did close unite. 
But vainly now and e^ er, love. 

All weepingly I yearn ; 
For joys again which never, love. 

Without thee can return. 

For life soon turns to sadness, love, 

If these we cherish best ; 
Have brought with them its gladness, love, 

To their eternal rest. 
My eyes are red wilh weeping, love, 

Since thou art gone from me ; 
O would that I were sleeping, love. 

The sleep of death with thee. 



A NOVICE. 

A temple in a silent wood ; 
And near its holy shrine, 
A face which shows beneath a hood 

Angelical, divine. 
What eyes of grief, what sorrow-worded 

glance ; 
What sad, sad looks, wihat pale, pale 
countenance. 



O virgin nun, for so you seem. 

Could I thy secret know ! 
Thy life hath not been all a dream 

Of bliss withouten woe. 
Soothe thy young soul in this sanctified 

place. 
Pray unto heaven for its blessing grace ! 

You kiss the sacred crucifix. 

Chain-pendant on thy breast ; 
And tearfully thy orbs you fix. 

Upon its cai ven crest. 
What seemest thou so pallid-looking thus? 
Within this altar-space crepusculous. 

Forgiveness for woe or sin ; 

What is it that you ask ? 
It cannot be such spotless skin, 

A shallow heart can mask. 
A countenance creant with purity. 
Which Virtues self gave for security. 

novice fair, or gentle nun ! 
O sweet Italian maid ! 

What penitence must yet be done ; 

What orisons be said ? 
Ere thou art free from this chaplet's seren- 
ity ; 
Whose very air breatheth divinity. 

Thy features delicately pale, 

Yet lovely to behold ;. 
Are sadly seen beneath the veil 

Enveloping thy mould. 

1 see one tapering hand which gently 

presses 
Within its soft embrace, night-gloomy 
tresses. 



Twas worth to cross a weary waste 

Of ocean and of land ; 
To see a penitent so chaste. 

Within his temple stand. 
Seek thou a niche, so like our Mothe Mary, 
Thou too may sanctify this sanctuary ! 

I hear the tinkle of sweet bells. 

Now sounding far away ; 
Beneath the gentle valley-swells. 

Where shepherds lowly stray. 
Soon, soon, I will depart ; soon wander 

hence. 
To look no more upon thy countenance. 



And why no more? and why no more ? 

Since graven now thou art. 
Like are the scenes of youth before. 

Upon my beating heart. 
Kiss thou thy cold, cold cross ; would I 

could kiss 
The selfsame spot of symboled sacredness. 



132 



INVOCATION.— LIKE THE ANGELS.— COMPARISON. 



Like sounds some tender instrument 

Bath scattered in the air. 
Until each symphony is blent ; 

So with me I will bear 
Forever from this place a mellow-tone of 

joy; 
And which through life my pensive heart 
will buoy. 



INVOCATION. 

If a prophetess forth from the ether can 

rise. 
As fair as the seraphs that dwell in the 

skies ; 
Soft-singing and hymningeternally there : 
Then essence I ask thee ! 
Nay Spirit I task thee ! 
Appear in a vision of joy to my eyes. 
By the power I wield, 
And to which thou must yield, 
Do I bid thee arise ! 
On the wings of my sighs ; 
In the dawn of the air : 
That I may see thee there. 

[A SPIRIT RISES.] 

Now tell me thou vision of sense if there is 

A region all perfect in rapture and bliss, 

And called Paradise ! 

And where too it lies. 

And if one whose spirit becometh immortal. 

May pass through the space of its azure- 

hued portal ! 
Then beyond to the seat. 
Of high beauty complete. 
O tell me, O tell me ! 
The doubt that within my young bosom 

now lies ; 
Or else clear away the life-mist from my 

eyes. 

Thy face is illumed by a light and a glow, 

Hy a radiance yet never beholden below; 

It is true then, 'tis true, 

Ttiat such ecstatic view. 

As this region of rapsodies yonder exists? 

Past a million of stars and the Chaos of 
mists ? 

Past the present and future, the heavenly 
wall 

Of this ethery hall ; 

Infinite around us. 

Past things which confound us. 

And where seraphs immortal now dwell- 
ing above ns 

Forever will love us, forever will love us! 



LIKE THE ANGELS. 

Thou art like the angels above thee. 

Whose purity graces the skies ; 
What moi'talcan help then to love thee, 

To worship what love beautifies. 
Thy eyes are like stars, which resplen- 
dent 

Keam tremulous lustre at night ; 
Except that a spirit transcendent. 

Is seen in their opals of light. 

Thou art not like others below thee. 

Since far. far above them thou art; 
As they must afhrm who do know thee, 

Thought-shrined as a seraph apart. 
Thou art not like otner maids living. 

Though beautiful too they may seem ; 
A radiance to earth thou art giving. 

Which maketh existence a dream. 

Thy beauty is not like the beauty. 

All other maids round thee possess; 
And praises can scarce do their duty, 

That speak of thy pure lovliness. 
Thy features of Virtue; revealing 

Rich lips like the coral in glow; 
And cheeks, like the roses concealing 

Their blushes of joy till they blow. 

Thou art not like other maids round thee. 

Apart thou art seen from them all ; 
As if one in heaven hath crowned thee. 

With Purity's bright coronal. 
The light in thy dreamy-orbs shining. 

The spiritual hue of thy face ; 
Are blent with the passionless pining. 

Descried in its beautiful grace. 



COMPARISON. 

I watched a star one night, all palely 
shining. 
Through the balm-air. 
I watched a maid one night, all sadly 
pining 
In love's despair. 
Light came ; the stars pure brilliancy was 
dimmed by day ! 
Light came : the maid's pure spirit too 
had winged away ! 
But within heaven's brightness well 1 
know glows that pale star ; 
And within heaven's brightness she is 
now where angels are. 
And as at night this star's clear lustre joys 
the buoyant space ; 
So is my sorrow soothed by her visioned 
grace. 



SONG.— SADNESS. 



133 



Pale, pale star. 
Shining far 
Througli the dim veil of Night ! 
Anf^eiic maid, 
In folds arrayed 
Of a texture radiantly bright ! 
As pure those amber beams appear to 
me. 
As seraph soul I know thyself to be. 
As well that star deserves its glowing 
seat. 
As thine own soul, angelic spirit sweet ! 
Pale star. 

May nought ever niar 
Thy brilliancy ! 
Essence pure, 
In Paradise secure 
In holy love for thee ! 
So star and soul, and soul and star toge- 
ther. 
Inhabit blissful realms within the ambient 
ether ! 



SONG. 

ARABIAN. 



Far away, far away, o'er the heaving bil- 
lows. 

O'er the azure sea ; 
Beneath the shadow of drooping willows, 

Lies my Leonie. 
There the nightingale oft singeth. 

Its pure melody ; 
There the golden Summer bringeth. 

Flowers fair to see. 
And strews them o'er my dear one's grave. 

The grave of Leonie. 

Far away, far away, o'er the dazzling 
waters. 

On Arabia's shore ; 
Lies one of earth's fairest daughters, 

Sleeping evermore. 
Nevermore shall I behold her. 

Radiant one of grace. 
Nevermore these arms shall fold her 

In a fond embrace. 
Nor within my snul a maiden 

Evermore find place. 

Far away, far away, o'er the boundless 
ocean, 

'Neath uncloiided skies. 
Lies one who was all grace and motion, 

With soft gazelle-like eyes. 
'Neath a willow ever weeping 

Sleeoeth she for aye ! 
Would that I with her were sleeping, 

I with her could lay. 
My Leonie, my Leonie! 

Once bright as is the day. 



SADNESS. 

O under a willow's shade to lie ! 

With its branches moved by a plaintive sigh 

While a purling brook with its rippling 

waves, 
Lept in and out of the nymphean caves ; 
When its crystally waters clear displayed 
The beams of the heavenly-radiant maid. 

O under a willow's shade to lie ! 
Gazing upward at the glowing sky. 
While mystical melody miirmuring came. 
To thrill our languishing, pensive frame. 
And the ecboless boughs with cooling 

power. 
Formed o'er us their drooping and dewy 
bower. 

O under a Avillow's shade to lie! 
In the distance a chapel risen high. 
While anon camt; floating through the air. 
Musically soft and soothing there. 
In the dusky-robed and evening dim. 
Sweet voices chorusing the holy hymu. 

O under a willow's shade to lie ! 
Forgetful that we live to die. 
And unthinking of the ceaseless cares 
Perchance even then our bosom shares. 
Nor musing on all which waits our age. 
Dear friendship's loss and sorrow's rage. 

O under a willow's shade to lie. 

When loveliness was in the sky ; 

And feel a holier calmness rest 

Within our charmed and saddened breast 

While the drooping folds of balmy night. 

Did couch us in a pure delight. 

O under a willow's shade to lie. 
Forgetful time was fleeting by ; 
While nightingales with tender plaint, 
Now pleadingly, now sorrow-faint, 
Did woo their love, the blushing rose. 
And tune for her their mellow-woes. 

O under a willow's shade to lie. 

And unconsciously to thusly die ; 

So leaves which fell, when Autumn came, 

A\'ould spread a sheet above our frame; 

And with the snows of Winter, own 

A crystal monumental stone. 

O under a willow's shade to lie. 

With the vision of a fairer sky 

In our pensive minds; of a brighter 
sphere. 

For a happiness found never here. 

And the scarce thought wish had respond- 
ing speech. 

As our souls winged aloft beyond mortal 
reach. 



134 



CALM EVENING."— BATTLE OF TRENTON.— ISABEL. 



"CALM EVENING." 

Calm evening's muvmnrs gently stir 
The stately ehns. the silver fir; 
While above tuned, like angelic choirs. 
The stars in all their quenchless ftres. 
And more innmiierable spheres. 
Roll cadences upon the ears. 

The moon with snov^ry coronet, 
That sparkleth through the evening jet ; 
With showery beams of silver there, 
Falling like crystals through the air. 
Her beau I y among the boughs inweaves. 
Which this fair lake alike receives. 

O fairy dells, O gentle hills. 
Where roses bloom and dalFodills ; 
With lilies white and violets blue, 
Chrysanthemuu\s bedecked with dew; 
Beauteous lilacs, daisies in gold. 
How lovely are ye to behold! 

What perfume exquisite, intense. 
Now lull "th me in every sense ; 
It is the fragrance of these flowers. 
Diffiised by them among the bowers ; 
While the gloaming's air, so holy still, 
Breathes to us of a Higher Will. 

How weak man's praise, though still 't 

Thine, 
Almighty Being and God divine ! 
Oppressed am 1 in cverv thought. 
When thinking that I may be nought ; 
But still beloved within thy eyes, 
As one more pure, more holy-wise. 

In reverence to thee I kneel. 
Whose glory words cannot reveal ; 
Whose Holiness is more sublime 
Than mighty works of aged Time ; 
Who didst create this rolling earth, 
So glorious in its 'ueauty-worth ! 

Let me uprise my orisons. 
Like the immortal winged ones. 
Who ever hymn around thy seat ; 
In harmony and bliss complete. 
And teach me, since I learn to live. 
What happiness this life can give. 



THE BATTLE OF TRENTON. 

'Twas Christmas Night, the winds were 
chill. 

And through the forest fiercely blew; 
The Britons fearing nought of ill. 

Around their camp-fires closer drew. 



The sentries paced with ceaseless tread; 

Anon they furtive glanced around. 
Now viewed the star-lights overhead. 

Now cast their ej es again to ground 

And all was still, for nothing stirred. 

Except the leaves upon the trees ; 
And all was still, for no one heard 

The faint, faint sound upon the breeze. 

For coming like night-haunting ghosts, 

Across the frozen Delaware ; 
Were all Columbia's soldier hosts, 

Their late sad losses to repair. 

And silently they struggled on, 

With firm-set lips but beating heart; 

While guided by that mighty one, 
WT^io courage did to them impart. 

" Be silent, men, the shore is near. 
And near our many hated foes i 

This should at least give bosoms cheer. 
For soon we will be battling those.- 

And silent as the silent dead. 

While hours were swift and wore away: 
They passed the river's frozen bed. 

And came to where the Britons lay. 

The orient sun had risen now. 
And tinted bright the lat^ dun sky ; 

But calm was the great chieftain's brow. 
While courage beamed from every eye. 

"Mai^ch on, brave men, our foes are there 
March on, they are our country's foes ! 

Let flash your sabres bright and bare. 
To cleave the ones who may oppose !" 

They charged, it was the charge of men 
Who only fought for Freedom's right ; 

They battled and not vainly then. 
For conquered were the foes of might. 

And backward to the other shore. 
Elate at what their boldness won. 

They gladly went. While lips once more 
Thanked* God for noble Washington. 



ISABEL. 



Sweet Isabel, sad Isabel, 

A lovely maid forlorn ; 
Who never had a word to tell, 

From early blushing morn. 

Some said lier heart with sin was stained. 
Too pure she looked for such ; 

One sorrow though her bosom pained. 
She brooded over much. 



THE DIFFERENCE. 



135 



She dwelt within a castle old. 

Alone she wandered there ; 
Where memories of warriors bold 

Did haunt the very air. 

Escutcheons blazed on the walls. 

Rude spears were scattered round ; 
For often had its crumbling halls 

Rung with the warlike sound. 

She was the last of all her race. 

Who for their Country bled ; 
As if a spirit form of grace 

To hallow them when dead. 

Yet there was something in her eyes 

No language can explain ; 
An.i there breathed that within her sighs 

Which told of more than pain. 

Oft, often in the noon of night, 

When Nature was asleep, 
Late peasants saw a form of white 

Upon the turret steep. 

The turret looked upon the sea ; 

Thi? sea with glistening waves. 
Looked like a veil of purity, 

Yel shrouded many graves. 

Some said she there outstretched her arms, 

As pleading for a boon : 
For plainly was beheld her charms. 

Beneath the glowing moon. 

Some said xxpon her knees she bent, 

As if in saddest prayer : 
W^hile breezes, wildly floating sent 

Her long and raven hair. 

What blanched the roses of her cheeks? 

Wliat sunk her azuve eyes ? 
Whose beams were bright as are the 
streaks 

Of Phoebus in the skies. 

Of those I iiuestioned few could tell, 

Or answering none knew ; 
Yet some said this, that Isabel 

Had lost her lover true. 

How lovely she had been a bride, 

rJeside his princely form ; 
But ah alas ! her lover died 

Amidst the ocean-storm. 

For he had crossed the seas for France, 

To meet the Gal lie host : 
And he had met their bold advance 

With men courageous most. 

And flushed with hope and Victory, 

Did they embark for home ; 
But one dark night the raging sea 

Did sink them neath its foam. 



O lover dead, long Isabel 
Kept mourning for thee still ; 

Until alas ! she wrought too well 
Her purpose with her will. 

One eve the peasants heard a shriek. 
The cold blood o'er them crept : 

They saw the maid as from a peak 
Into the waves she lept. 

She did not struggle, for she prayed 
The sea vvould give her death : 

One moment in their sight she swayed. 
Then sunk for aye beneath. 

And now this tale the peasants tell 

About the castle old ; 
And of the sea, where Isabel 

Rejoined her lover bold. 



THE DIFFERENCE. 

The years long dead. 

Looked back to wear the image of a day; 
Whose sunlight fled. 

Leaves us in gloom, without one hopeful 
ray. 

The years to come. 

Veiled by the dimness of futurity. 
Still seem to come 

A hope, though unreliable, of joy to be. 

Yet in the past 

Were joys the future nevermore can give ; 
And though at last 

They vanish all, in memory still live. 

But future days. 

Though Hope may whisper to the painful 
heart. 
Garbed in a maze 

Of darkest doubt, do not e'en this impart. 

Tis not in doubt 

We look back to the past, it hatha truth. 
Which life without 

Would not have been, nor had been our 
youth. 

Pleasure and pain 
Then mingled like the branches of one 
tree ; 
Now time again 
May never come, like things to give to 
thee. 

Therefore 'tis best 

To holify the past ; weeping to learn 
What 'twill attest, 

That seldom Age is peace or joy's return. 



136 RAIL NOT AT DEATH.-NATURE /VND MAN.-INDIAN MASSACRE. 



RAIL NOT AT DEATH. 

O do not rail at death, 

Tis not the end of life ; 
'Tis but a chilling breath. 

Benumbing earthly strife. 

Our frames may perish here, 
But our souls will then arise 

Unto that holier sphere. 
Where joy forever lies. 

Few souls would pray to live, 
i ;ould they but comprehend • 

What heaven hath to give. 
When life on earth doth end. 

But some will shun belief, 

And revel in a crime. 
Which bows them down in grief, 

Through all and aftertime. 

Look to thy Maker God, 
Make him thy beacon-light ; 

Rise upward from the sod. 
Nor fear the darkest night. 

Forgiveness is given 
To those who such beseech; 

Think ye the way to heaven 
Is beyond mortal reach ? 

The crime-stained and the sinning. 

Should not live in despair; 
But start a nt^w beginning. 

Repenting first in prayer. 

There is joy beyond man's guessing. 
For the virtuous and good. 

If all punishment and blessing 
Were by man but understood. 

And this life w^ill become dearer 

If for God we live anew ; 
And our sorrow-gloom grow clearer. 

By the light which Truth will shew. 

Then do not rail at death, 

'Tis not the end of life ; 
'Tis but a chilling breath, 

Benumbing earthly strife. 



NATURE AND MAN. 

Hymn of the ocean, unto God. 

Thy rolling strain is pouring now 
And all the echoes of the sod, 

Have borne it up in music's flow. 

Tree kings, in all thy majesty. 

To Him above thee ever bow ; 
Nof like men-kings who, pridefully. 

Think they alone rule here below. 



Mountains, send up thy louder voice. 
From thy deep cavenis pealing strong ; 

Until the neighboring vales rejoice. 
And sweep the strain sublime along. 

Rivers, more tenderly and low. 

Give thanks of murmuring love to Him ; 
Who safely guides thy sparkling flow. 

And decks with flowers thy earthly brim. 

Songsters, who daily sweetly sing. 
To Him belongs thy trilling strain ; 

And Zepyhrs to His Kingdom bring 
All Nature's chorusing refrain. 

It now remains for man alone. 

The ruler of all \ature still, 
To reverentially atone 

In thankfulness for Heaven's Will. 

Yet he the chosen one of God 
Is the most silent-voiced of all 

For this He hath decreed the sod. 
On which we tread, shall be our pall. 



INDIAN MASSACRE. 

They came when night was deepest; 

And darkest gloom around. 
From heaven's high tower, the steepest. 

Veiled all the lower ground. 

They came when nought was t.hining 

Among the ebon skies ; 
A tire with no defining 

Shot hatred from nis eyes. 

They walked among the sleeping 
Their weapons in their hand ; 
I Like snakes in silence creeping. 
To sting this hardy band. 

They killed each human lying 
Unconscious on the ground; 

And groans of many dying 
Roused havoc's wailing sound. 

And swiftly they departed. 
As short had been their stay ; 

What sight when Daylight started 
Night's legions dark away. 

The fa* her and the mother. 
Their tender sleeping child ; 

The sister and the brother. 
Lay murdered there, defiled. 

It was an awful ravage ; 

The bravest of the bold, 
By the revengeful savage. 

In death were scarcely cold. 



AT TWENTY. 



137 



The youthful and the olden, 
Alike their blood had shed ; 

The black locks and the golden 
Were severed from each head. 

The cries and lamentation. 

When this thej' came to know. 
Of this new-settled nation 
Was terrible for woe. 

At last there came an ending. 
The Indians conquered were. 

And peace and joy are blending 
Their voices in the air. 



AT TWENTY. 

Twenty to-day. I do not know- 
Why T should deem it then of woe; 
Regrets should not arise in one 
Whose manhood's life is scarce begun. 
Yet I have diffex'ent been from those 
With whom I mingle oft and speak ; 
But still do not from this suppose 
My life is always barren, bleak. 
For I have that within, a fire. 
Which ever dared and does aspire, 
To rise above its present state ; 
A yearning nought can compensate. 
The ceaselessness of anguished strength. 
Which Time alone may soothe at length ; 
The more than hope which ever keeps 
Within me burning thoughts awake ; 
An eager wish which never sleeps, 
A vividness that always steeps 
Itself in what my musings make. 
The yearnings and desire intense. 
For which life hath no recompense; 
Mute in its burning eloquence. 
And I have deemed— which kept alive 
The only hope on which I thrive— 
My past hath not been all in vain, 
Nor does the present give disdain ; 
The future may be such again. 
For the incessant thoughts of youth 
Mar. but do not destroy that truth. 
Which doth our very being soothe 
By its essence and its words of ruth; 
And wakes our nobler sentiments. 
To struggle with Life's discontents. 

A life of twenty years to-day ; 
But the present looks not half so gay 
As I deemed this future in the past. 
Yet our youth's joys cannot ever last. 
And ti'uth is Rtern, and life is stern, 
And no happiness from thence we earn. 
With the passions which we seldom spurn 
For temptation to a youth is strong. 



Which blind him to a sense of wrong; 

And a torpor oft is in his heart. 

From which scarcely doth he strive to 

part. 
'Till he finds the sweeter is such languish. 
So painful soon becomes its anguish ; 
Which his will then strives to overpower, 
To be weakened by his weaker mind; 
And the woes of an untimely hour. 
In bitterness shall rounn him wind. 
And he will awaken to the pain. 
To redeem the past ; but all in vain. 
And blindly try and forward look, 
To scan Life's ever secret book ; 
So obtaining knowlege, mostly spent 
In misery and discontent. 
And he will shed tears, until a pride 
Reproaches him, and they are dried. 
Then in his heart he will become 
A pain to few, a hate to some. 
With none his loneliness to cheer. 
And no one his memory to endear; 
With no hope of joy, all sorrow here ; 
It were strange if grief beyond control, 
Did not bid him to despise his soul. 
That his Maker had to him given; 
And destroy his hopes of heaven. 
How many have to this been driven ! 

I have not yet stepped within manhood's 

bounds. 
But suffered manhood's earthly wounds. 
And I drew fiom thence such a mine of 

thought. 
As my pensive bosom ever sought. 
Till within myself I then became. 
Though in looks, in all else not the same. 
E'en then my features never bore 
The same expression once they wore. 
I have not yet learnt to calm and tame 
My wilder mind ; and those I love 
Sometimes they chide me, till they move 
The passions of my heart the same. 
And a madness ever in me seems, 
Till my waking hours are full of dreams. 
There is no pure heart that would resign 
All its youth and joy. to mate with mine. 
Not one to greet my cloudy brood. 
With glances of a brighter mood ; 
No earthly thing which can return, 
That love for which I often yearn. 
And no features half so beautiful. 
Can exist as I do deem exist; 
For I found deceit in beauty still. 
Which dissolved my hopes away like mist. 
And I learnt to laugh at things of earth. 
Till my laughter seemed a sorrow-mirth; 
And I learnt to greet with heedless eyes, 
The soft glance of tender orbs of blue ; 
And I learnt to stifle passion's sighs. 
When I found e'en F riendship passion too. 
Hut no doubt had I in my belief ; 
W hich e'en though bowed by sighless grief, 
Still brought to me a sweet relief : 
And was of my few hopes the chief. 



138 



AT TWENTY. 



Twenty years of half-unconscious sorrow. 
Twenty years which will be past to-morrow. 
'Tis but a day, when looking back 
To childhood with a sad alack! 
Yet what may await as many hence 
Man knoweth not, so blindly lives ; 
Lives on the breath of sustenance. 
Which Fate either remvoes or ^ives. 
Will the tears of youth be then outgrown 
Or remain within our breast— a stone? 
Will the tears of anguish t nen be dead. 
And hope's ever transient gladness fled; 
Will a coldness greet us, and a pride 
Draw us within its chilling tide? 
Will friends— alas the word is strange- 
Like us confroiit as sad a change? 
Yet your eyes will lose youth's lustre-beam. 
And your cheeks will know the march of 

time ; 
And our life will not be such a dream. 
Nor thoughts of fame so sweetly chime. 
But we shall perhaps though saddened, 

grave. 
Float along like some becalmed wave. 
We will not as once of j'ore aspire. 
To attain what man can seldom reach ; 
Yet our souls will be raised nobly-higher, 
And forgiveness perhaps beseech, 
From that Being who is o'er us still. 
Through whatever changes life may bring. 
We shall worship more His Holy Will, 
And be dumb to passion's flattering. 
And our hearts will be perhaps less pure, 
Yet not unconscious to some joy ; 
And no thoughts of fame will come to cloy 
What'er its depth may then imnure : 
Yet much of sorrow more endure. 

Twenty to-day; 'tis a tale to tell 

Which the young koow not and the old too 

well. 
Who have also had the craving wish. 
No grief could blight, but Time did crush. 
Twas a wish, a hope, a deep emotion. 
To which youthful breasts pay mad devo- 
tion ; 
And which does with every feeling weave. 
Though the mind and bosom often grieve. 
'Twas a strength within their being cast. 
That was also weakened at the last; 
For our future is not like our past. 
And the smiles of youth seem fondly sweet, 
ti\it beneath them is a sad deceit ; 
And no comfort doth existence bring. 
To a heart's incessant murmuring. 
And no balm can soothe its intense pain. 
Nor can patience calm life's deep disdain. 
For each thought gives birth to pham- 

tonsies. 
Which allow the soul nor rest nor ease ; 
And arc peopled with a fancy-throng. 
To wrong his right and make right wrong. 
And unless man turns his soul to Him, 
All his thoughts will darkergrow and dim. 
'Tis a gloom which shrouds him in a woe. 



A darkness not to be dispersed ; 
'Tis a somberness some beings know, 
And forever haunts, like one accursed ! 
And his heart will sink beneath the weight, 
Of its own unconquerable state ; 
Of its own embittered, anguished fate. 
1 Until it sadly pine away. 
Ere its joys iiave scarcely known a day. 
For joys are not in youth but age, 
Like calmness doth succeea a rage ; 
Or peace, after wars humans wage. 



Twenty to-day with a heart long torn 
By the sorrows which have made it mourn 
And yet so bruised by all it felt. 
That scarcely is its grief dispelt. 
And so scathed by the passionate fire. 
Of a love that burned with fierce desire; 
That no teirs < ould quench or haply sooth 
That first and last despair of youtn. 
Which pained it once and made it feel 
An anguish never felt before ; 
And since that hope hatn made it heal. 
An anguish to be nevermore. 
Yet there was and is a being made 
Who could bring a joy unto my breast; 
And had made existence different seem. 
And I know not, but Hope fondly bade 
E'en my listless heart to wake from rest. 
A.S if she whom lovely so I deem, 
That the angel forms of those on high. 
Find no favor now within my eye ; 
When I tread the old cathedral's floor, 
And look their floating image o'er. 
Which once I did so much adore, 
Covild choose my passion to return. 
And the doubt would near to madness 

drive. 
Did not Hope keep Reason's ray alive. 
Still, though buried in my bosom's xirn. 
Love's pallid face is lovely still : 
And a flower of constancy is there. 
Which is watered by the tears I spill. 
Or else it were so rank and bare. 
And although those tears for love be shed 
I do not deem his spirit fled; 
But enshrined within my breast to be 
So worshipped for his purity. 



Twenty to-day, with a hope to be 

Shrined in Fame's immortality ! 

'Tis the throbbing hope which knows no 
rest. 

Under which the bosom is oppressed; 

And but leaves us in a gloniu no less. 

Of Remorse's sinking weariness. 

Tis the striving for the mortal goal. 

For which ever yearns the fiery soul ; 

And will make it but relapse at last. 

To its morbid despair of the past. 

When the mind itself unlearned, un- 
schooled. 

Yet in calmness of a conscious state. 

Had its lofty fancy-flights unruled. 



FOUNT OF OBLIVION.—" WERE LOVERS TRUE.'— THE EREMITE. 139 



And then sunk beneath a dreary fate. 
And some there are who can"or bear. 
That anotljer one should wildly dare 
To crave the prize or crowninj? fame ; 
Which thej* themselves can never claim. 
If perchance my heart hath learnt to live. 
Apiirt from those it chides as friends ; 
It has also h?arnt to bear and grieve. 
All the pain 'neath which the bosom bends. 
And if thire is in its recess, 
Soniething like men cpll bitterness; 
'Tis because I found life's sweet v.as not 
Like the sweetness which my soul desired; 
And embittered with myself, forgot. 
To all except what I aspired. 
It has brought it then a constant gloom. 
In contemplation's fitting tomb. 
But it shall arise from such a night. 
Ere that many yeai-s have taken flight.. 
Shall arise but to decline and fall. 
What is this, my soi.l demands, to all 
Which may shrive from death his ebon 
pall? 



FOUNT OF OBLIVION. 

There's a fonnt of Oblivion men often have 
sought, 
In the vale of the present 'tis hidden : 
And of nothing 'tis said to be curiously 
wrought. 
Though its springs to all kind are for- 
bidden. 

Many pilgrims on earth have been wan- 
dering long. 
In their search for this mystical fountain ; 
All in fear of the past are the miserable 
throng, 
'Till at last they are stayed near the 
future's drear mountain. 

So in dread of the horrors of Memory's 
thought. 
And in dread of the mountain before 
thfm; 
They will struggle along in these valleys 
of nought. 
'Till the shadows of death somber o'er 
them. 

And at last they will find that the fount of 
Oblivion 
Which they sought for on earth can in 
life not be found ; 
For the nearer we come to Death's silent 
dominion. 
So the nearer we come to Oblivion's 
dark ground. 



•* WERE LOVERS TRUE." 

" Were lovers true ;" she moaning said; 

■' Were lovers true, was every heart 
Life-faithful to the one it wed. 

No need were there for them to part !" 

Were lovers true, how many are ? 

None true perchance can truly last; 
A bliss fatality doth mar. 

Is this bright gladness of the past. 

Were lovers true why are they not 
If sundered not by wealth or pride ; 

Can.ioys of love be soon forgot. 
With ecstacy of hope beside? 

Were lovers true, ihe Avaiful sigh 
Of maidens for their sinning love ; 

Alas! it IS a woeful cry. 
Which time too often lives to prove. 

Were lovers true. O God. but true ! 

True to themselves, to truth, to all ; 
No cause were there for hearts to rue. 

No cause for virgin souls to fall 

Were lovers true, life's hues would take 
A brighter and a lovelier light ; 

Nor hope would so the breast forsake. 
Nor sorrows come with tearful night. 

Picture thyself a hapoy home. 

A mother, sire, and virgin maid ; 
Know ye what agonies would come 

To them, were she by guile betrayed? 

The tender flower upon her stem. 

Nursed tenderly by purest dews. 
Virginly blooms and fades for Him ; 

But plucked nought more her youth re- 
news. 

Were lovei's true, but true to truth. 
By which they vow and pledge their 
vows ; 
But no they falsify their youth ; 
What suffering alas ! Love's bosom 
knows* 



THE EREMITE. 

No one-, no human soul is near 
To feel like me ; or softly tell. 

I am as I would wish as dear 
To it as well. 

Sadly, alone, I wander on ; 

No hope of joy, though much of grief 
Reproaches me for moments gone. 

In dim belief. 



140 



THE HEART.— ON GREECE. 



Some mysteries I conld unfold. 
Long: hidden in this pensive breast; 

But they alas ! are best untold, 
Best unconfest. 

Not languidly do I repine. 

Not restlessly I pass my days ; 
A pensive soul and hope divine. 

My time repays 

Sometimes in vain I strive to learn 
Earth's ancient and profoundest lore ; 

Sometimes my heart doth vainly yearn 
For pleasures o'er. 

One happy may not be content. 
One woeful know not always woe ; 

One fearing in presentiment, 
Nought fatal know. 

Different, apart, most bosoms are; 

In hopes, in wishes, and in love. 
Some may unite, there is no bar 

To this above. 

'Tis in the power of humankind 
To make their life a godly one; 

Yet in the race some lull behind. 
Ere scarce begun. 

What is this fear which hampers youth. 
And trembles on the lips of age? 

"Be firm!" is life's divinest truth. 
And life is sage. 

Death is the end of life's hard goal. 
Why nearer there lag more behind ; 

Who knows what the immortal soul 
May therein find ? 

Redouble purpose, will of heart. 

Rekindle tire of waning hope; 
More strength is needed when we start 

The steeper slope ! 

Well knew that Grecian how to die. 
When his youth's days and joys were 
done ; 

More firm in age though death was nigh. 
He grandly won. 

Some show upon their smiling face 

A happiness they cannot feel ; 
Some bear within a deep disgrace 

Or sorrow's seal. 



The melody which fills the breast, 
And only sings alone its strains. 

Is the true happiness, the guest 
That knows no pains. 



THE HEART. 

O the heart has deepest paining, 

'Tis the source of living woes; 
And a breath of hope remaining. 

Becomes stifled in its throes ! 
I the heart must suffer paining. 

Ere youth's lifetime have its close; 
But all thoughts of such disdaining. 

It still lives CO fondle woes ! 

Life is but the wondrous giver. 

Of the all our bosom feels ; 
Of the grief which lasts forever, 

Of the joy that love reveals. 
Love becomes embittex'cd never. 

Were it not the future steals 
All its joy, and doth deliver 

Woe, which seldom gladly heals, 

Death is but the mystic healer 

Of the pangs in life we knew ; 
'Tis the mystical revealer 

Of the dim unto our view ! 
'Tis the everlasting sealer. 

Of those lips both false and true; 
'Tis the fatal silent stealer. 

Of all lovely which we knew. 

If we live, we suffer paining. 

If we die we suffer nought ; 
While we live there's hope remaining. 

Of a joy divinely wrought. 
Few are there our life disdaining. 

Death by many still is sought ; 
Mysteries without explaining. 

Are these to the mind of thought. 



ON GREECE. 

Are the heroes of Sparta all buried and 

dead. 
Is their spirit of freedom and bravery fled ; 
That those sons do not rise at proud 

Liberty s call. 
While the nations await to exult at lier 

fall? 

O her power was mighty in ancient of 

days, 
And her beauty in youth the ideal of praise ; 
Now in age would you spurn her in scorn 

from thy side. 
Ah, alas ! this of all were the basest of 

pride. 

Did she not at Thermopylea nobly display 

All the worth of her sons in the din of the 
fray ; 

While the strength of her bosom 'twas 
nursed those who won, 

And immortal became on the field Mar- 
athon ! 



THE BARD.— LULU. 



141 



give Greece all the glories which lo her 

belong. 
Her mighty in battle, her lustrous of song. 
Hath endeared her to hearts who will still 

to the last, 
A dor.i her for those she gave birth in the 

past. 

She nor craves for a sceptre nor yearns 

for a throne, 
But demanilelh the blessings of Freedom 

alone ; 
She has warred with the greatest, herself 

greater still. 
And 'twere base now to humble or conquer 

her will. 

Can Coltimbia and Albion look on with a 

smile. 
While she asks f ( r her freedom, too punic 

the wijile ; 

1 speak not cf Italia for she was her foe. 
When Home was in glory and iiieece was 

in woe. 

Sons of Sparta where are ye that heed not 

my call, 
Grecian warriors will ye behold Liberty 

fall ? 
Rise again as of yore, be unsheathed the 

sword. 
Which shall conouer the Turks, the 

Mohamettau hoi'de ! 

In the Gulf of Salamis they battled the host ! 
Of the nation that hated, despised them ; 

the most ; ■ 

Is the spirit extinguished which conquered 

of yoi-e, I 

From the coasts of Italia to Asia's wide | 

shore ? 

If the glory that crowned her hath faded 

at last, 
If the glories have withered she won in 

tiie past ; 
Pluck a leaf from the pages of her history, \ 
And let this be her banner of true Liberty, j 

In my heart is a worship, a passionate j 

love. 
Which a lifetime of sorrow can never re- ' 

move; I 

As some martyrs have died for a heathen- i 

ish god, ! 

So for her would I stain with my blood * 

B'reedom's sod ! I 



I Son of the Sagas ascendant of old, 

i Heir of the Odins who sang in the North; 

I Are there no glories remaining untold 

Of heroes who bravely to battle went 
: forth? 

'* Vea. Jint as lightning which smiteth the 
heath, 
i As barren and black as the skies over- 
] head. 

So is there blight on the leaves of the 
wreath, 
i That ciii led the temples of those who 
I are dead. 

I 

: "Sweet as the voices of memory's past, 
Soft as the lisp of the babe who is young; 

Are songs which they wildly once poured 
j to the blast. 

j Now cherished alas I though remaining 
; unsung. 

j "Ask not a minstrel to strive and renew 
The echoless tones of the lips that are 
still; 
I that am living can never imbue 
Mv soul with the spirit that gloried their 
will." 



THE BARD. 

VV^eak of the weak, and strong of the 
strong. 
Child of the child, man of the man ; 
Chant us a ballad or sing us a song ! 
Thou who art kingly and king of the 
clan. 



LULU. 



As bright as laughing mountain rills. 

As fair as Summer roses ; 
As pure as snow upon the hills. 

So sweelly she i eposes. 
Her budding coral-lips apart, 

A perfect flower blooming ; 
Her breath the incense of her heart. 

The murmurous air perfuming. 



How beautiful is she asleep. 

While near a fountain splashes ; 
And golden rays of glory keep 

Their guard around her lashes. 
A sleeping beauty of the wood. 

A seraph being wholly ; 
A maiden that to womanhood 

Is budding sweetly, slowly. 



A naaid in her coyest looks. 

A fairy in her palace ; 
A spirit of those silver brooks 

That flow to ocean's chalice. 
The Iris of a radiant sky. 

A rainbow of the ether; 
Made beautifully bright thereby 

By mingling them together. 



142 



PEACE.— SPIRIT OF LIFE.— PRAYER. 



An angel on this lower earth, 

A glowing fleeting vision ; 
A sparkling drop of dew— of mirth- 

A being from Eiysian. 
A nightingale in melody, 

A lark forever soaring ; 
A radiant dawn of briiliaacy, 

A goddess for adoring ! 



PEACE. 



Calm, calm ! all is calm ! 

Over sea and earth. 
And in the air a perfume balm 
Descendeth like a mist, to girth 

This lovely earth. 

Still, still ! all is still ! 

Over earth and sea. 
Flows the river from the hill 
Through the valley noiselessly, 

To the sea. 

Hushed, hushed ! all is hushed ! 

In the star-lit air. 
Only that the ocean flushed 
As the sundescended there. 

In the air. 

Peace, peace ! all is peace ! 

Nature is asleep. 
Ah, but there is no surcease 
Of angels that do vigils keep 

O'er Nature's sleep. 

God. God! who saith God? 

Is it sea or air? 
Audibly above the sod 
Do I hear it everywhere. 

In the air ! 



SPIRIT OF LIFE. 

Spirit of Life, here is the clay 
Which I shall take and mould 

To beauteous shape. Lo, look I say ! 
Lo, look thou, and behold. 

Creator I, thou but the breath ; 

His life however as thy gift. 
My gift shall be both life and death, 

Wherein no hand shall sift. 

Lo, purposely I do conceal 

From him the secret means and end 
Of existence. And only seal 

With death what now I blend. 



Breathe in these lips which are apart, 

Created is he now in form ; 
Now flows Life's spirit to his heart, 

Life's essence ruby -warm. 

Lo, regent over bird and beast, 
I Of ail on earth, or air, or sea ; 
Of my creations not the least, 
Since of his faculty. 

And from him shall I then create 

A being beautiful apart ; 
Moulded alike to kin and mate 

The mission ot his art. 

And counterbalance him in all 

Of gentleness, of loveliness. 
His glory hers, his fall, her fall. 

Love, hatred not the less. 

Spirit of Life, their exi«tence 
Shall but be thine as mine avowed. 

Thou gracest him with mind and sense, 
I also with a shroud. 

And from that shroud a soul shall spring, 
And from that soul a living bloom ; 

Infused, infusing everj^thing 
With heavenly perfume ! 



PRAYER. 



Standing now before the byway 
Of the Life that doth divide, 

God, O God, pray lead me Thy way, 
Let Thy Glory be my guide ! 

Yearningly before the portal 
Of Thy Beauty and Thy Truth 

Do I stand ; a frail immortal. 
Mortally endowed with youth. 

Strow Thy pearls of brightness hither, 
Ai'ch thy rainbow not beyond ; 

Show unto my spirit whither 
It shall wander to respond. 

From the future lift no curtain. 
Show me not what is to come. 

Of my joy I am as certain. 
As their sorrow is to some. 

I that in my heart's endeavor 

For one purpose live alone. 
Think eternally soever 

Of the Beauteousness unknown. 

I that wildly have upstarted 

In the glory of the night 
Yearning, anguished, fervor-hearted, 
Seek beyond those planets bright. 



TO GRACE.— APRIL LYRIC. 



143 



Seeing not in beams descended 

Only amber-tinted hues; 
But divinest spirits blended. 

Brighter still than diamond-dews. 

Seeing in ttie glorious morning, 
Transcendentaliy descried. 

Fairer tints than life's adorning 
Mountain-tops and valleys wide. 

I whose restless musings wander 
To another sphere from this ; 

Nought conceive of planets yonder. 
But a purer life of bliss. 

Yet however I have wondered 

Deeply, sadly, on them all. 
Wished this earth-existence sundered, 

I am bounded in its thrall. 

Standing now before the byway 
Of the Life that doth divide 

God. O God. pray lead me Thy way. 
Let Thy Glory be my guide ! 

And though I am but another 

Thus aspiring the above. 
Let each mortal be my brother 

In Thy universal Love. 



TO GRACE. 

My thoughts are of thee. 

Ere I sink to my rest ; 
Till I deem that I see 

Both thy face and thy breast. 
So beautiful both. 

So radiantly white ; 
That I whisper my troth 

To this spirit of night. 

My thought are but thine, 

Or awake or asleep ; 
And on Love's purest shrine, 

All my passions I keep. 
When the stars in the skies 

Gleam through azurine space. 
Then I deem that thy eyes 

Fondly shine on my face. 

How I yearn to enfold 

Thy sweet form in my arms. 
Since at night T behold 

Such angelic charms. 
But alas ! tis denied, 

And I waken, to find 
Thou wert but at my side 

As a phanton of mind. 



O will ever the day 

Come to realize this 1 
Will we ever both stray 

In a region of bliss? 
Fondly clasp, gladly speak. 

All the love that we linow; 
With our face cheek to cheek. 

And our eyes in a glow? 

Welcome me with a sigh. 

With a smile and a look ; 
And I'll willingly die 

For the joy it can blook. 
Welcome me with a kiss. 

And a tender embrace ; 
And such planet as this 

Will be hi aven in space. 



APRIL LYRIC. 

Beautiful April, that art now beginning 
With flowers to strew the valleys as thou 
rangest. 
This world of sorrow and this world of 
sinning, 
To Paradise thou changest. 

And yet the flower blossoming ; perfuming 
The air at morning, in the evening dieth ; 

Though soon we see another flower bloom- 
ing 
O'er where it lowly lieth. 

Beautiful Bertha, now these flo wers culling 
And then unconsciously their leaflets 
strewing ; 
Thou knowest not while thus thy spirit 
lulling. 
What art thou really doing. 

Nor deemest thou how also thou art weav- 
ing 
My tender thoughts and fancies sweet 
together ; 
Yet givest me most woeful cause for griev- 
ing. 
By strewing them to ether. 

But as another blossom ever springeth 
Forth from the chalice of the flower per- 
ished. 

So me another dawn of gladness bringeth, 
A hope as dearly cherished. 

Is it a wonder then my radiant being. 

I hope as fondly in these days of sorrow. 
What reck I if this April-day be fleeing. 

May comest in to-morrow. 



144 



LOVE-WORSHJP.— TRUTH.— PRO VERBIALISM. 



LOVE- WORSHIP. 

Wlio at Love's altar never worshippeth, 
An' I briiif^eth there his gifts of richest 
price! 
Some delved from the deep treasure-caves 
of Death, 
The very sorrow of a sacrifice. 
Some wreathed from the many myrtle- 

ICclVCS 

That strow youth's balmy forest ; where 
the beams 
Of golden mornings and of radiant eves 
Kiss fountain-bubbling rills and haunted 
streams. 
O thou most beautiful Divinity! 

Within thv temple silently are bowed 
A multitude of beings; radiantly 
Arisen from the life that doth enshroud. 

Lo. not for very wantonness we are 

Thy ministers, and shrine thy golden gifts 
Thou blendest Happiness into a star, 

That leads us onward from our earthly 
shritts. 
See yonder wending in their virgin youth 

Maidens most beautiful and youths who 
need 
The lulling languor of thy smiling ruth, 

Chastest ad(u-ers of thy blissful creed. 
Both lilies white and roses white they bring, 

Haply to fill thv temple with perfume; 
Ah, Luve's bright altar needs not anythmg 

But such pure flowers in their fragrant 
bloom. 

Come hither gentle youths and maidens all ; 
Love needs such odorous incense as ye 
bring. 
It is their very blossoms ye leave fall. 
Which are the blossoms of the love ye 
brmg. 
Though S :)rrow become pallid by his grief. 

Yet Happiness is rosy-red I wot ; 
And merry melodies are never brief 

That echo through the glory of this spot. 
And now ye have fair Love with garlands 
crowned. 
Fear not for morrows and their sad mis- 
hap ; 
Love's i<olden cycle ever goeth round. 
When ye have strown some flowers in 
Hymen's lap. 
There all iherites are finished. Homeward 
wend ye. 
And Venus and the Graces shall attend 

ye. 



Resplendent radiance shrines thee round : 

A splendor as of Hope, 
That irom the infinite azure bound. 

Illumes our finite scope. 

Lo, dazzlingly dost thou appear. 
I While twice ten-million wings 
Of angel-bands are flattering near. 
And every augel sings. 

Hallalulah they chant aloud, 

Most glorious each word. 
While every tone from cloud to cloud 

Is echoed and is heard. 

"The Fount of Life alone is Truth ! 

And Truth alone is Him ! 
O Truth that is immortally, 

O Glory none can dim ! 

" The inmost spring of joy or grief 
Thnt welleth forth from man. 

Is only as his true belief 
Dotii mingle with His plan. 

" Sublimest Universe of form ! 

In Beauteousness clad. 
Grand spirit of the calm and storm. 

Speak ye wnere Truth is had." 

"From the Almighty Being God, 

Irradiates its light! 
And cverv place upon the sod 

Itoverfioweth bright!" 



TRUTH. 



Wing hither from thy Paradise 
Archangel thou of Truth ! 

Deep founts of glory in thy eyt 
Immortal in thy youth. 



PROVERBIALISM. 

Pluck the blossoms and the flowers 
Weave them to a fragrant wreath ; 

Let the minutes plus the hours, 
Since we only live to breathe. 

For the waters of life's fountain, 

Flow eternally along. 
In the desert is a tuountain. 

In the spirit is a song. 

In the gladness is the soi-row. 

In the sorrow is a tear. 
Every day foredawns a morrow. 

Every morrow forms a year. 

Life is full of plaintive pathos 
Mingling with a buoyant strain. 

Vanities as high as Athos 
Still unsculpured do remain. 

Chaos is itself confusion. 

Nature is itself a law. 
Fairest visions are illusion. 

Which some poet-prophet saw. 



Yet with every flower moulded 
Springing from a living tjced, 

And with every leaf unfolded, 
Is there Love's eternal creed. 

Days are only toll to ages, 

Ages record of the past, 
Books innumerable p^iges ; 

Space a symbol of the vast. 

In the ideal transcendent. 

Is the ideal Divine ! 
In the beautiful resplendent, 

A resplendent Being's shrine ! 

Yet before His holy altar 

is the altar of the priest. 
Let us ask, " Did Abel falter 

Ere he sacrificed the beast?" 

Do we scorn to live in error. 
That we scorn to live in truth? 

All cannot be standard-bearer 
Of the beautiful in youth. 

Now I see an eagle winging. 

Now I see an emmet crawl; 
Now I hear a lark is singing, 

Now I hear a pebble fall. 

Ere the mountains were uplifted 
To their present resting place. 

Who can say how men were gifted. 
Were there living such a race ? 

Every pearl completes a treasure, 
Which completed were without ; 

Even sorrow hath its measure, 
Is there measure not to doubt? 

While with every rich posessing. 

Is the canker of a fear; 
And with every golden blessing. 

Is the jewel of a tear. 

Some that deem existence better 
Than the mystical beyond. 

Leave their spirit wear a fetter; 
Is there freedom in the bond ? 

Let us who have long been sleeping, 
Wake to find ourselves awake ; 

Let us who have long been weeping. 
Laugh again for Laughter's sake. 



THE SPHINX. 



145 



THE SPHINX. 

Hugest colossus of an early time ! 

Amidst a desert just as primitive ; 
Symbol of some philosophy sublime, 

What are the lessons which thou hast to 
give ? 
Have we arisen from a loathed slime. 

Growing perfected, unperfected live? 



Thou art a Sphinx, so man may ask of 
thee 
What is unravelled by profoundest 
thought. 
And being in thyself a mystery. 

Thy answer is as mystically wrought. 
What greater Wisdom surely could there 
be 
Since they who query thou dost answer 
nought. 

How many thousand centuries, these sands 
Have been thy pedestal, thy resting 
place. 

Wast thou upbuilded by degraded hands ? 
Or by the glory of a Freedom-race ? 

Alas! no other monument now stands 
Like thee, to.mock us to our very face. 

O Land of Iris and of Osiris ! 

Breeding both crocodiles and elephants. 
Is this the idol priests were wont to kiss. 

And sing to it their weird and mystic 
chants? 
A desert for an altar not amiss. 

Its very ether like a lion pants. 

This race must then have been of such a 
height 
As bej^bnd the conception of a sage. 
Else how could they build temples of 
such might, 
As these which have resisted every age. 
Go seek the halls of Echo and of Night. 
They may reveal the undiscovored 



From Dan unto Bersheba is no more ; 

So Egypt seems in gradual decay. 
But still there is enough of ancient lore 
To thrill the wandering pilgrim of the 
day. 
Ibsambul, Memphis, Thebes, we can re- 
store 
In fancy if nought else, as poets may. 



The temples of Denderah to astound 
The pensive bosom by its va 
great. 
Some more colossal, crumbled to 
ground 
Through many ages of dynastic hate. 
The giant Memnon with its vocal sound. 
When rises Phoebus in refulgent state. 



O would that we could once uplift the veil 
That shroudeth all the mystery of years. 

Perchance we have before us such a tale 
As only Vanity sublimely rears. 

Here kings did once their luxury regale. 
Here Tyranny hath wept its bloodiest 
tears. 



the 



146 LOVE'S FAITHS.—" WE NEED NO CROWN."— ANACREONTIC. 



I only see a Dynasty of woe. 

From Pharoah to Hyksos and the rest. 
I only see that Tyranny below 

Is not the Government man deemeth 
best. 
I only dream of Liberty, and know^ 

Few centuries will surely this attest. 

And that the life that hencefortli men will 
lead. 
Shall be the summit of its existence. 
That which sublimest men of every creed 
Have ever imaged in their loftiest sense. 
And that America hath strown the seed. 
Whose plant shall bloom o'er earth 
in ages hence. 



LOVE'S FAITHS. 

Love plights deep troths, deep plighted 
faiths. 

Nor lacketh faith to make them sweet. 
Yet people's life with trembling wraiths. 

That strow Hope's blossoms at its feet. 

Love circles the infinite arch 

Of Heaven with its aureole— 
Applieth balm to lips that parch, 

Applieth glory to the soul. 

Born in an angel's crysalis. 

It flutters forth a beauteous saint. 
That only lives a life of bliss. 

Unknowing any earthly taint. 

As blooms a beautiful epiphyte. 
Its essence blossoms on the heart. 

The glorious temple of Delight 
It openeth witn joy apart. 

It claspeth the archangel's sword. 

It battleth with the warrior's glave ; 
The only idol most adored. 

Whose worship reacheth to the grave. 

It makes the mightiest monarchs bow. 

It elevates the beggar's soul. 
It laurel-wreathes the poet's brow. 

That most resplendent aureole. 

It is eternal as is Time, 

It is infinite as is Space ! 
"Tis beautiful, it is sublime, 

Tis glorious in its splendid grace. 

'Tis its own apotheosis. 

Immortal in itself, divine. 
Divinity itself doth kiss 

This idol on its golden shrine. 



"WE NEED NO CROWN." 

We need no crown to wreath our brows 

With undiminished glory : 
Our history's page too plainly shows 

The titue-remembered story. 

Our soldier's graves can plainer tell 

What all our honors lie on ; 
Since they who fearless fought and fell. 

Had Freedom's soil to die on. 

And could we such a triumph shame 

Ry noblest valor won now; 
We weep above their silent frame. 

Whose glorious work in done now ! 

And nought but joy for us remains. 

And prayers true and loyal : 
For they did sever all the chains 

Of foemen tyrant, royal. 



ANACREONTIC. 

Come, pour the wine, bless the grape 
Which gives us joy in such a shape ; 
Since every glittering drop conbiues, 
And Love in i"osiest liue entwines. 
Come let the purple liquid pour, 
That wafts our tiioughls to Hebe's door ; 
Wliere siie, displayed with all her charms, 
Reposes soft in Cupid's arms. 

The battle-cry, the stirring notes. 
May peal from martial warrior-throats ; 
If they contented Uie in war. 
In peace we die contented more. 
And in the golden cup beiiold. 
Heavenly nymphs of fairest mould ; 
Who greet us with a sparkling eye, 
And bid us drink, and drinking die. 

Let flow the stream of nectar-wine. 
Pressed from luscious grapes divine; 
And lee each drop ttiat fills the bowl. 
Be one to swell with joy the soul. 
And let each hue which mingles there 
Combine to form a maiden fair. 
Elysian scenes unknown, untold, 
Are glowing in this cup of gold. 

Fill liigh again, and drop by drop 
Consume the wine, nor ever stop. 
Nor minds reverting backward, cast 
A look, a thought, upon the past. 
And may the future's unseen store. 
Run smooth as doth this rosy shower; 
The wine to-night must only shine 
With sylph-like maids and scenes divine 



THE WEARY SUN.— HOLY GROUND.-MT. SHASTA. 



147 



Must only shine with beaming eyes. 
As blue as cerulean skies; 
]Vlust only shine with glossy cheeks. 
Like oceans dyed by Phcebus' streaks; 
Must only glow till feelings warm 
Entrance and thrill our bouyant form. 
Then till the bowl and drink again. 
Come hither joy and farewell pain. 



THE WEARY SUN. 

Sink slowlier down. O Sun ; thy roseate 
coucli. 
Warmed by the languid form of dimpled 
day. 
Is all prepared ; and none shall there en- 
croach 
Except thy bride, the Morn, who bids 
thee ever stay. 

Hush, Zephyrs, hush ; the Sun is now 
asleep ; 
And Night with all her starry concorts 
throng 
Around his ray-lit bedside; where they 
keep 
Their sentinel of splendor the hours 
long. 

Bend lower Night, and cool his fevered 
brow ; 
For angered by the waves, which ever 
smile 
In mock derision at his orient glow. 
He wearily sleeps to calm his breast the 
while. 

So let him lay ; he will too soon awake, 
When on his burning cheeks the virgin 
Morn 
Presses hot kisses ; then her he fond will 
take. 
And on his chariot golden cross the 
Eastern lawn . 

Let us retire then Night, for see his lips 
Are trembling now ; and hither comes 
the Morn 
In gay attire, and rising as she bids 
They wander forth. Earth hails the 
heaven-born. 



There do our footsteps lightly tread ; 

And heads are bent respectful, low. 
When passing by where rest the dead ; 

The fearless dead with marble brow. 

And hearts that never knew a prayer, 
Inspired by holy throughts I ween ; 

Oft gently kneel in sadness there. 
And kiss with teais the dewy green. 

For all must reverence the grave 
Of men who midst the carnage fell ; 

Of men who to us Freedom gave. 
And who do here forever awell. 

So let thy footsteps lightly tread, . 

Though strangers here be covered deep ; 
Still kneel and bless these noole dead, 

And pray for them and sadly weep. 



HOLY GROUND. 

If on this earth there is a sod, 
A SDOt we can call Holy Ground, 

It is \\here men have never trod ; 
And where our warrior's graves are 
found. 



MT. SHASTA. 

Thy form Mt Tehaste. thy rude, rocky 

height. 
Is sutilime in its grandeur, yet lonely to 

sight : 
Like was fabled of old, dost thou seem to 

uprise. 
And be on thy shonldcrs supporting the 

skies. 

Thy base with its forests of dark evergreen. 
Where valleys on valleys in beauty are 

seen ; 
While grandly upgrowing the cedar and 

tir. 
With spruce, sugar-pine, and fair maple 

are there. 

A monarch, proud-reigning on marble or 
stone. 

Would look but a puppet beside thee 
alone ; 

A king can be conquered, who can con- 
quer thee. 

Whose grandness sxirpasses all majesty. 

Thouhnstnota sceptre but crownet of 

snow. 
Whose gems shine like crystals on valleys 

below ; 
And the sun from the east shining forth 

every day, 
Butreneweth their brilliiint. resplendent 

display. 

The eagle grows dizzy to view thy great 

height. 
From the e^Te below thee his soul fills 

with fright ; 



148 



LIBERTY BELL.— THE RIVER. 



While thou silently standing sublime to 

behold, 
Art dressed in thy robes of both purple 

and gold. 

The stars in the night through the ether 
shine clear, 

And kiss with their radiance thy hoari- 
ness here ; 

While the moon, full and golden, uprising 
to sight. 

Sheds upon thee her lustre of balmy de- 
light. 

Reign on in thy vastness, Mt. Shasta, old 
king, 

Jjet thy glens and thy valleys with happi- 
ness ring ; 

Yet a mightier monarch above thee is 
now. 

To whom, if He Wills, thou as others must 
bow. 



LIBERTY BELL. 

mighty bell, whose voice uproUed, 
As if impelled by angel hand, 

Along the skies ; and pealing told 
That Freedom blessed at last the land. 

Thy strength like theirs, as theirs of steel. 

Lay in one chord of harmony ; 
Thy heart like theirs, did loudly peal 

Its anthemings for Liberty. 

Peal on, old Bell, in coming years 
Still let thy voice go grandly forth ; 

As if a marriage-bell for teai'S 
But lately shed by South and North. 

Thy birth was hailed by purest joy. 
It tolled the death of kingly reign ; 

And may the echo also buoy 
Those hearts that feel as sad a pain. 

How many bosoms beat with thine. 
How many lips sent up a prayer; 

When thou didst in one voice combine 
Hymenial strains to throb the aix*. 

And if in that remembering 
There was a gladness never last, 

1 still believe 1 hear thee ring 
As joyously as in the past. 

And may thy tones of Liberty 
Be echoed to the coming years; 

So other sons may speak of thee. 
As I have done, midst joyous tears. 



THE RIVER. 

Fleetly dost thou pass me. 
With thy bosom sunshine lit; 

And gentle whispers ask me 
Where to dost thou flit? 

Like a mass of glittering pearls, 
Flowest thou with murmurs sweet ; 

Sometimes circling in mad whirls 
Round the moss-stones at my feet. 

Onward sometimes, smoothly flowing 

Like a thing of mystery; 
While the golden beams are throwing 

Lovely glances upon thee. 

From the mountain's rocky arms 
Didst thou joyously depart ; 

And thy crystal-shining charms 
Charm the sadness of my heart. 

I would I were a flower 

To watch thee every day ; 
Passing every bower 

In thy pure display. 

The deeds of days ances.tral. 

Thou seemest to repeat; 
While like a stream celestial, 

Thou flowest ever fleet. 

When with a gentle bound. 

Thou will arreet thy love, the sea. 
The laughing waves around 

Shall answer merrily. 

All gloomy thoughts possessed. 
With thee have disappeared ; 

All sadness in the breast. 
By thy sweet voice is cheered. 

The glowing sun above thee 
For thee his rays doth keep ; 

The mellow songsters love thee. 
Thou luUest them to sleep. 

Thou art a joyous river. 
Whose voice of mingled chime. 

Shall murmur on forever 
In the flowery vales of Time. 

The flowers have formed their bowers 

Along thy winding ways ; 
Where birds in sunny hours. 

Do chant their trilling lays. 

Then sweetly flow, pure river; 

And let thy bridal be 
As sweet as the endeavor 

Of verse of mine for thee. 

Trickle onward fleetly. 

Fleetly onward wend ; 
Murmuring, murmuring sweetly. 

The song which hath no end. 



AWAKEN.— LIGHT AFTER DARK.— FLOWER'S TALE. 



149 



AWAKEN. 

Awaken the livinj?, awaken the dead, 
Awaken the spirits which have long been 

fled; 
Awalccn the sleeping, awaken the waking. 
Awaken the skies till their vastness be i 

shaking; 
Awaken the valleys, awaken the bowers. 
Awaken the mountains, a waken'ithe towers; 
For the time has come, the time has come. 
And to war we march with our queen 

Freedom. 

Awaken the deeds which are dark in their 

biers ; 
Awaken the wrongs that have slumbered 

for years; 
Awaken the hearts of our warriors old; 
Awaken the hearts of the younger and 

bold; 
Let them inherit the courage again. 
Their fathers used nobly before on the plain ; 
For the time has come, the time has come. 
And to war we march with our queen 

Freedom. 

Awaken the land, as the ocean its shore. 

Let the tipirit revive of the old Grecian lore ; 

Awaken the blood of the timid to battle. 

Awaken the bullets to shower and rattle; 

Awaken the cannons to thunderous crash- 
ing. 

Awaken the sabres to gleam in their flash- 
ing ; 

For the time has come, the time has come. 

And to war we march with our queen 
Freedom. 

Awaken our arms to a fury and strength. 
Awaken our bosoms with fervor at length; 
Awaken the trumpet, the bugle to call. 
Conquerors we live or unconqueredwefall; 
Awaken the banners to float on the breeze, 
As bine as the azure in heaven one sees ; 
For the time has come, the time has come. 
And to war we march with our queen 
Freedom. 



All human hearts must know their share 
of grief. 
All human breasts must bear some part 
of woe ; 
But like the tree which sheds the withered 
leaf 
To bloom anew ; so will we liappier 
grow. 



LIGHT AFTER DARK. 

Not all our life we pass in sorrow. 
Some days must bring their wealth of joy; 

We grieve to-day, a bright to-morrow 
Will bear away our gi'ief-annoy. 

All clouds may show their darkest lining 
But trancient is their heavy gloom ; 

For ever then some beam is shining. 
To cheer us from such woeful doom . 



FLOWER'S TALE. 

There is nought which speaks so much of 
love. 

As flowers fair together wreathed ; 
It seemeth as if He above 

His incense on their leaves had breathed. 

Not all the darts of Cupid sent. 
Can give the bosom half the thrilling 

As flower-buds when purely blent ; 
Their fragrancy of bloom distilling. 

And nought as plainly tells how grieves 
A heart by faithless lover broken, 

As a wreath of aged and withered leaves 
Love's first but ah, its saddest token ! 



YOUTH AND AGE. 

It is in Youth the future seems 

A beauteous fancy-shore ; 
Where days are passed in golden dreams, 

And gladness evermore. 

It is fond youth who ever deems 

The present one of woe ; 
And thinks the future only teems 

With all of joy below. 

It is frail Youth who dares the streams 

Of Time's unceasing flow; 
And learns too late his golden dreams 

Were never truly so. 

Then as he throws one look— the last- 
On youthful days of yore ; 

He sighs and would recall the past, 
Now gone forevermore. 

But there is this, O striving youth. 

Thou never shouldst forget; 
The present is the life of truth. 

The future is not yet. 



150 I AM NOT SAD.— THE DEAD.— THE MERMAIDS.— TO A CHILD. 



I AM NOT SAD. 

I am not sari, but rather thrilled 

VVith a transcendent feeling; 
Which by some unseen cliaim distilled 

Is softly o'er me stealing. 
And changes all my tho\ights of glee. 
To steadfast, culm, sobriety. 

What worked this change? Is it a power 

Conforming to my future life ? 
To tell til at henceforth, from this hour, 

Much calmer will I meet the strife; 
For I am nearer, neai'ing. 
When hope and joy have most of fearing. 

But let it be as it must be ; 

Divining to anticipate. 
Would only mock the destiny 

Ol things which are our future fate. 
For webs on webs in life are weaving. 
Beyond the soul's utmost believing. 



THE DEAD. 



How silent are the dead, through all the 
world 
They sleep for aye once said the solemn 
word ; 
And were the mountains into chaos hurled, 
Still would they be unheai-ing and un- 
heard. 

Sublime is death, so little understood. 

How near to life and yet how far away; 
The heart will cease to beat, and the warm 
blood 

Melt into nothingness within the clay. 

'Tis solemn thought to stand and contem- 
plate 

What we now are and after death will be ; 
All life is visible, but not so is the fate 

Which bindsoursoul then sets it ever free. 

How opposite are things, while many weep 
At dear ones lost, do many swell with 

mirth ; 
Unnumbered those who die, and those who 

keep 



Our life eternally upon the earth. 
Thus age on age hath rolled to dust away. 

Thus many unborn nations yet must roll ; 
Yet can our life be insured for a day ? 

No, nought so trancient as the immortal 
soul. 



THE MERMAIDS. 

There is within the ocean's depths, 

Jn caverns of the sea, 
A mernuid troop, whose syren lips 

breathe forth such melody, 
j That men who pass them by in ships. 

Are charmed instantly. 

Their hair is bound in green sea-weeds, 

VVith emerals for eyes ; 
And golden harps, instead of reeds, 

Th?y use for melodies; 
Beware the one this music heeds. 

For heeding it he dies ! 

Who can resist the ravishment 

Of all their music sweet; 
The melody divinely blent 

iNo mortal can repeat ; 
The rapsody of heaven sent 

To Neptune's deep i-etreat. 

O let their potent spells me girth, 

I love their glorious lay ; 
Since never mortal one on earth 

Such harmony can play ; 
The antheming or music-mirth. 

Which wild winds bear away ! 



TO A YOUNG CHILD. 

May never cloud of sorrowing 

Obscure thy rosy path ; 
Nor day** their fatal envy bring. 

Or bitterness of wrath. 
Untenantei by ought of woe. 

May thy life's confine be ; 
Thy heart shine forth with holy glow. 

Thy soul with purity. 
And like the flower that views the sun 

Arise at early morn ; 
Doth never his refulii^ence shun. 

Till in the evening gone ; 
So may thou, cherishing the haze 

Of Virtue He hath given. 
Retain it through the darkest days. 

Unto the light of heaven. 



'• ALL THINGS." 

All things which had beginning have an 
ending 
Some things that had an ending have be, 
ginning; 
And after all we may be sinning, mending 
Where other centuries were mending, sin- 
ning. 



'ALL THINGS."-THE REVELRY.— THE TOWER. 



151 



All things which are now livin}? must have | 
dyiiiK, 
Some things that had their dying are now 
living; 
For 'tis impossible to have complying 
With Nature's laws, who new is ever giv- 
ing. 

All plants which have a blossom must have 
blooming, 
IIovv many bloom without a sweet pro- 
ducing; 
Their very seed of life gives them the doom- 
. ing 
Of budding nought to farmer's eyes seduc- 
ing. 

All clouds with somber lining must have 
clearer. 

All stormsafteratimehavecalm abating; 
A distant light is brighter when s.en nearer. 

And lite is not all one of weary prating. 



For the noblest chiefs from battle had 
come. 
With breasts throbbing proudly at Vic- 
tory's miglit ; 
And the lyre and the harp, the cymbal 
and horn, 
Kept warming fair bosoms till dawning 
of morn. 



THE REVELRY. 

There were loud sounds of revelry 
Re-echoed from the dome that night ; 

And thousand knights of cliilvary 
Passed— repassed beneath the light 

Which dazzling shone from burnished 
walls 

Of all those massy, ancient halls. 

Waved lofty many a haughty crest. 

Whose plumes streamed sable in the air; 
Beat wildly many a crimsoning breast 

Of blooming maids and courtly fair. 
And stalwart knights with mail of gold 
Whose deeds cannot remain untold. 

And many a shield was hung on high. 
Together with the axe and lance ; 

Which shone like stars upon the eye. 
Of those who whirled iu the maddening 
dance. 

For a passionate tremor was all filling. 

E'en hearts beneath their corslet thrilling. 

And strains from bronzed throats were 
stealing 
Upon the mingling pageant there ; 
And scars, scarce from the battle healing 

Did flow again their red-drops rare ; 
While many a cavalier beside. 
Displayed a glittering medallion with 
pride. 

Bright banners like clouds waved under 
the dome 
Of the festival halls in the castle that 
night. 



THE TOWNER. 



There is a tower in distant lands, 

Which overlooks the sea; 
That with foaming billows bands 
Its rock bases lastingly. 

And a king in haughty pride. 
Once went outward from its walls ; 

Sought the battle field and died. 
Thus untenanted its halls. 

Yet at night its cloud-capt turret 

Echoes such a woeful cry ; 
That the ones who hap to hear it. 

Rush all pale and frightened by. 

For tis said the king's fair daughter 

Kver since her father went 
To be conquered in the slaughter. 

Lived within the battlement. 

And they say the foemen nearing 
Its huge portals when they won, 

Saw' above the maid appearing. 
Dressed as any vestal nun. 

And a fire of madness, anger. 
Was within her beauteous eyes; 

As she heard their metal's clanger, 
As she heard their victor-cries ! 

And though lone she yet defied them. 
Who had conquered in the strife ; 

Proudly, scornfully, denied them 
Enti ance, at the cost of life. 

Knights who lately would have bartered 
Life for glory, death for youth. 

Felt within them feelings started. 
That did melt them into ruth. 

Hands which lately were uprearing 

Battle-axes, crimson spears; 
Now, per.'.hance by thoughts endearing, 

Brushed away the dawning tears. 

And again in sadder rally 
All the mountains did descend; 

And beyond the lovely valley. 
Sorrow-conquered, did they wend. 



152 



ADVICE.— TIME.— REUBEN AND AIDA. 



Grimly, solemnly it standeth. 

Like a giant without breath ; 
And Time now alone commandeth 

This still battlement of death. 

All its walls decay hath eaten, 

Moss-o ergrown they strew the ground: 
While its massive base is beaten 

By the sea with ceaseless sound. 

And the eagle built his eyre 

In its yet unfallen tower; 
And its halls are damp and dreary, 

Both at morn and evening hour. 

And the sea-birds fly around it. 
With their cries so fierce and loud ; 

And the withered weeds have wound it, 
Like the dead within a shroud. 

And though seemingly undaunted 
Birds do wing around it tUere; 

Men will say that it is haunted 
By this maiden's spirit fair. 

Bronzed cheeks confess their pallor. 
Boldest hearts are chilled with fear ; 

Trembling lips repeat her valor, 
As this soulful wail they hear. 



ADVICE. 



O Youth, while yet a few short yeai's 

Of rosy joy are thine, 
Clasp fondly all which hope endears ; 
And then pi^epare to shed thy tears 

Above fair fancy's shrine ! 

O Youth, while yet thou hast a youth, 

Look well into thy heart ; 
And follow all the ways of truth. 
For happiness and sweetest ruth 

She ever doth impart. 

And also weigh, consider well. 

The present and the past ; 
Comparisons can aptly tell 
The frailties thou must dispel. 

Of times which could not last. 

Thou hast a rocky road to tread. 

Yet tread it thou alone ; 
The beauties of the Glorihead 
Are round thee and are overspread ; 

In fields of azure strown. 

Look yonder, see those golden clouds 

That show their aii'y form ; 
Night comes and every one enshrouds, 
So art thou midst life's transient crowds 

Amidst life's struggling storm, 



Be only true and firm 1o will, 

And willing for the best ; 
Persist in gaining honors still. 
In arts of mind, in arts of skill. 

Obeying Truth's behest. 

And happily thou then wilt find 

This life no mockery ; 
Where nobleness is but in mind, 
And intellect is ever shi'ined 

As glorified to be. 

We are but purpose to plan 

What Genius doth create ; 
Or pilgrims on the caravan. 
Now crossing all the desert-span 

Of life, or will, or fate ! 

We are as One Supreme hath willed. 

Who did create us all ; 
So onward till thou hast fulfilled 
The task for which thy mind is skilled 

On, on, is duty's call. 



TIME. 



O Time thou source of pain and bliss ; 

Thou current of eternal life ; 
Why do we live and grieve like this, 

Forever battling worldly strife? 
Is there no mercy while you reign ; 
Dwells not bright Hope in thy domain? 

Yes, there she dwells, but ah so changed 
In course of years, that few would know 

The heavenly maid, why often ranged 
Within the bosom filled with woe ! 

So changed the beauty of her form, 

So cold her ardor once so warm. 

Along thy path we meet all kind 
Of mortal being, rich and poor ; 

The youthful and the aged-blind. 
The crippled, and the faith-secure ; 

And mighty souls and glory-men. 

Who stem thy current now and then ! 

Yet who finds change in thee, O Time, 
Dost thou not still sweet charms possess; 

Those works of Nature grand, sublime. 
Whose beauty words cannot express ; 

A mortal one hath hopes and fears, 

Thou changest not for all his tears. 



REUBEN AND AIDA, 

THE WOOING. 

With Aida's face enchanted. 
Bold Reuben forward pressed; 

To tell the love inplanted 
Within his heaving breast. 



REUBEN AND A IDA. 



153 



Throiig:h halls, where censers brightly 

Gleamed on the pallid stone. 
He glided ; treading lightly 

Like to a phantom lone. 
Till 'neath her sacred chamber. 

He stood as pale as death ; 
While winds of fragrant amber 

JJid mingle with his breath. 
And the passionate strain 

Of his tender lute, 
Throbbed to life again 

--ill the echoes mute. 



In her luxuriant room of roses. 

Fairest Aida sweetly slept; 
Till to where her form reposes. 

Strains divine of music crept. 
And a heavenly smile, appearing 

On her radiant features glowing. 
Awakened thoughts endearing. 

O'er her shapely shoulders throwing 
A crape of rich material. 

On the balcony did she lean. 
While on high the moon imperial 

Fully shone with silver sheen. 
Still his passionate si rain 

Did sweetly plead ; 
'Twas the wooing plain 

Of his passion's meed. 



Long she listened to his grieving. 

Mingling cadences of tire; 
Till her snowy bosom heaving. 

Told of Cupid-born desire. 
And the snowy tints of morning, 

Often seen on snowy peaks. 
First upon her brow had dawning ; 

Then descended to her cheeks. 
Her bright orbs of azure straining. 

She beheld his form below ; 
W^ith such melody complaining, 

That like rapture she doth know. 
Jla, he starts!" 

Is she discovered? 
O fond hearts 

So well beloved ! 



And her maiden blushes deepen. 

And her eyes are brighter-sparkling ; 
He was fain retiring, weeping. 

With his soul in despair darkling ; 
But a whisper, soft as Zephyr 

When he breathed through the trees; 
Him recalled, and filled his ear 

With a flow of melodies. 
His bold features upward turning. 

He discerns her yielding form; 
Roth their bosoms now are yearning. 

With a passion holy warm. 
Moon, cloud thy light; 

Or shame to see 
How Love at night 

Can loving be. 



THE FLIGHT. 

The ancient castle's gloomy walls 

Were still as still could be; 
Though from within its brilliant halls 

Came peals of boisterous glee. 
And as each horn its shower distilled, 
'Twas emptied and again refilled. 

But underneath the archway wide 

Sad- wandered Aida fair; 
For he was missing from her side. 

What joy without tiim there? 
The mail-clad guests who trod the floor, 
Brought not the joy his features bore. 

The moon athwart the massive pile 
Cast shadows weii d and dim; 

The echoes breathing through the aisle, 
Bespoke her love for him. 

Sometimes the gloomy clouds did shade 

A lirmament of stars displayed. 

One gloomier cloud than all the rest 

Half-sombered all the sky; 
Else had his casque with plumy crest 

Waved joyful to her eye. 
Yet Love's quick ear soon caught the 

sound 
Of Love's light footsteps on the ground. 

Her heart one moment ceased to beat, 

The blood rushed to her face; 
As soft she heard the hurrying feet 

The moon-lit pathway trace; 
Then left her features and her brow. 
And left her pale as marble, snow. 

A robe of azure floated round 

Her sh <pe, in graceful charm; 
Her girdled waist he lightly wound 

With re-assuring arm; 
And kisses on her lips he pressed. 
Since thus are lovers truly blessed. 

" Why stands my Aida still and white, 

Is not thy Reuben near? 
Or is it that this stormy night. 

Hath blanched thy cheecks with fear? 
Or dost thou fear away to flee. 
With one who lives in loving thee? 

" By all which I hold dear above; 

If thou doubt not my vow, 
I swear no earthly thing I love 

But thee. Wilst trust me now? 
My steed is haltered near the gate, 
A double burden doth he wait. 

"My vassals have this night prepared 

A sumptuous feast for kings; 
For well they knew, as I declared. 

At dawn their chieftain brings 
A bride who equals all the flowers. 
Which loveliest bloom in Flora's bowers." 



154 



MY SOITL IS DARK."-AGE AND YOUTH. 



Two pearly tears did from her eyes 
UpsprinR, and mar iheir light; 

And from her bosom issued sighs. 
Which echoed through the night. 

Then lovingly she clasped his arm. 

And broke the stillness and its charm. 

'"Twas but the transport of my joy. 
Which caused me to grow pale; 

Then hnste while yet the night doth cloy, 
Thy steed must dare the gale; 

The night is dark, the storm is strong. 

Come let us speed the vale along." 



In a passionate kiss their warm lips met, 
'Twas the signet of their troth; 

Then onward on his steed of jet. 
They skimmod the meadow both. 

One farewell look to the tower she cast, 

And forevermore its portals passed. 



THE BRIDAL MARCH. 

The martial sound of a hautboy call, 

Was heard along the air; 
And the blending tones from the castle's 
wall. 
Gave a clarion answer there. 
Out from the porticcos then went forth, 

In their splendor of dress and pride, 
A thousand knights from the battling 
North, 
With glittering shields on their side; 
To welcome the chief and his bride on the 

plain. 
While the heralds preceded the glorious 
train. 

Bright shone all eyes in the festal halls. 

Tables groaned beneath their load; 
While the flashing arms on the graven 
walls 
Bespoke a chiefs abode. 
O'er the drawbridge, past the portal wide, 

The trumpeteers made their way; 
Then the heralds with banners unfurled 
beside, 
W^hich did streamers of gold display. 
And the bronze-armed guards seemed a 

forest throng 
When the Autumn browns its leaves 
among. 

With a flourish of trumpets, the nobler 
pair. 
On their steed with its trappings of gold. 
Passed the portal with proud, though gen- 
tle air, 
As the martial strains uprolled; 
Through the widening courts of the ban- 
nered tower. 
As the hoofs smote hard on the paved 
stone. 



Passed the turret's height and the vine- 
clad bower; 
Till they reached the halls where the 
guests had gone. 
And the night was spent in bright revelry. 
For the chieftain bold and his fair lady. 



"MY SOUL IS DARK." 

My soul is dark, O God, and yearns to soar 

Aloft in speed of spirit flight; 
To listen to the heavenly lore, 

Attuned by Cherubims of light. 

My hopes, my joys, with Thee repose; 

Wilt Thou unheeding pass me by? 
O deign to soothe the passions-woes. 

Which in my breast are rising high ! 

'Tis said thou markst the sparrow's fall. 
Thou then can view my soul uprise 

In humbleness ; to worship all 
Thy beauty's grandeur 'neath the skies. 

O fill me God with thoughts sublime. 

With feelings rare and words of truth ; 
So I may make the future chime 

With all the loveliness of youth. 

And ne'er unswerving from the course 
Which Thou for all kind hast marked out. 

Sustain nie with the holy force 
That knows no fear nor fears a doubt. 



AGE AND YOUTH. 

Knew I my age would be like youth, 
I would unstring the Muses' lyre ; 
And let its soulful strains expire 

In silence of unspoken truth. 

But what w^ere life without a hope? 

An ocean beamed on by no star; 

A sky so dark, no clouds could mar 
Its somber and its vaster scope. 

Age cannot be compared to days. 
The essence of a changeful life ; 
The spotless bloom of later strife; 

The morn with all its bright displays. 

Yet though youth's sun too soon is set. 

Doth not a purer orb arise, 

W^hose lustruous beams bestreak th( 
skies? 
So Age, Life's eve, is calmer yet. 



O SNOWY ROSE.-" THE LYRE WHOSE STRINGS.'-PASSION. 155 



O SNOWY ROSE. 

snowy rose, that gently rears 

Thy beauteous shape above this earth ; 
Knowost thou thy ever spilling tears 
Are shirt above a tomb which bears 

Him dearest next from birth ? 

Lo. I could daily mark thy growth. 
Thy buds have hui'sted now in gloom ; 

But it recalls too much of both. 

One living still, who nothing loth 
Would seek as deep a tomb ! 

Ye dews which cheer this virgin flower : 
Fair nights who shed these crystal dews ; 

1 thank thee both. O had I powei" 
To him recall ; but no this shower 

My sad despair renews. 

This larger tree which shades the stone. 

Where simple epitah is found, 
Knows not it hath to beauty grown, 
Because our teais were shed alone 

Upon its holy ground. 

O sun. since plants become thy care ; 

O winds, that perfumed, pass me by; 
Pray beam tny mildest glances here. 
Pray breathe soft preludes that may cheer 

His soul if wandering nigh. 

Our hearts are bounded in this place ; 

And though it give us deeper pain. 
Tis here the last our eyes did trace 
The noble lineaments'of that face. 

We grieve for not in vain. 

Time, to decide my future fate. 

One humble boon of thee I pray. 
As marching on in mighty state 
You conquer all with ihy aged mate, 

bring not here Decay ! 

Thou hast spared some, canst thou still 
spare 

This lone, but ever sacred tomb? 
The Athenian's on the cliff's top bare, 
And Rome's sepulchre of one fair. 

Met not thy common doom. 

And if some pity move thy breast, 

1 pray thee deign to show it here ; 
One form is underneath at rest. 

Of good and noble still the best, 
Of dearest the most dear. 

But now the sun is sinking down 
With glorious rays around his head; 

And I must wander back to town. 

To strive and gain a famed renown. 
Fit justice to this dead. 



Before T go, white rose,, fare well; 

It soothes to see thee though I weep. 
I feel that which I cannot tell, 
I v>ish that which would be as well. 

Likewise herein to sleep. 



"THE LYRE WHOSE STRINGS." 

The lyre whose strings are damped with 
tears. 
But gives at best a mournful strain; 
The breast whose heart is racked bj; fears. 

Succumbs too soon beneath its pain. 
Let Hope's warm rays beam on those 
strings. 
And it will change its notes to gladness; 
And Love is balm for all the stings 
^Vhich drive the loving heart to mad- 
ness. 

The lyre whose strings are tuned by one 

Who knoweth no\ight but merry strains. 
Will end not what it hath begun; 

Or else resume for deeper pains. 
The heart whose faith, and trust, and all. 

Are centered in one mortal being; 
Will by degrees have Fear appal, 

Who too much truth can show at seeing. 



PASSION. 

At coming age the warmth of youth 
Declines, and swiftly doth expire; 

And bitter thoughts, and lines of ruth. 
Remain to tell of wasting fire. 

And weary eyes entombed in tears. 

Are chroniclers of ill-spent years. 

The flower swiftest in the bloom. 

Is swiftest also in decay; 
The lightning piercing murky gloom. 

As swiftly sinks in gloom away. 
\''outh roused too soon by love's desire. 
Is soonest scorched on Age's pyre 

That stream the fiercest in its force. 
Is sooner gulfed within the sea; 

The murmuriner brook in gentler course. 
Produces much more harmony. 

The impetuous one will rend the wave. 

And quickest find the Ocean's grave. 

And passion is the blighting storm 
Of youth alike, and hoary Age; 

The cloud which doth our life deform. 
Before decay's much fiercer rage. 

The calm to come after its breath. 

Is but the pallid thought of death. 



156 



CONTEMPLATION.-SOEROW.-ONE JOY.— A CALM. 



CONTEMPLATION. 

I plucked a rose, a tender flower. 
Ere I awcaried sought my bed ; 

I woke again at morning's hour. 
And found my rose alas ! was dead. 

I knew that it had bloomed at night. 

For 1 myself beheld it bloom ; 
And here it was at morning light. 

All withered, scarce without perfume. 

Ere that the sun-beams could exale 
Its fragrant breath it had decayed ; 

O what a sad, yet tender tale, 
To me its shrunken leaves displayed ! 

Not all I learnt in written lore. 
Not all philosophers have told ; 

So pierced my bosom to its core. 
As this frail, fragile, beauteous mould. 

It showed to me the fate of things. 
Though beautiful those objects be; 

And showed me too that Fate soon brings 
To all their true eternity. 

If some were to be spared by death, 
Thisroseatleast should have been spared ; 

Which never sinned, and by its breath 
But blessed the ether which it shared. 

But no it met the common end 
Of Nature's things, by Nature's laws ; 

The common debt we all must tend, 
Before the last, the fatal pause ! 



SORROW. 



must the fate persue me still. 
Estranging me from fellow-men ; 

Or is it that some higher Will 
Hath marked my destiny of life; 
In death to end this painful strife. 
And not alas ! till then ? 

Am I some specially chosen one. 

On whom disasters dire must fall; 
How long unceasingly, till done 
This sorrow, must I strive and fail? 

1 sue for peace, my only bale 
Are tortures that appal. 

Unswerving, I have trod the path 
My soul did prophecy as right ; 
But some unseen, vindictive wrath, 
Hath obstacles placed on my way : 
Yet will I not be baulked, some day 
Must dawn a brighter light. 



And until then still will T strive. 
Contending 'gainst the darkest fate : 

And until that fair time arrive. 

Be it through thornied ways or not, 

I will resume ; by all forgot 
Save, chance, my hopes elate. 



ONE JOY. 



'Tis all we know, a joy to feel 
At a loved presence dawning near ; 

That o'er the human frame will steal, 
Like chiming notes upon the ear. 

'Tis all we care to know, some breast 
Throbs warm communion to our own : 

To know some lips are only pressed 
By kisses from our lips alone. 

To see the blushes mantling high, 
And tinge to rosy hue the snow ; 

To meet a bright and sparkling eye. 
Which answereth our welcome glow. 

To clasp a soft and yielding form. 
And whisper Love's unending vows ; 
In words increased by ardor- warm. 
Beneath the gently-drooping boughs. 

O yes there is pure joy in this ! 

Think we how soon it may be past? 
Ah, no, we revel in the bliss, 

And hope it will forever last! 

Nor reckon that this joy to pain 

Unpremidatedly may turn ; 
And then will not return again. 

However much for it we yearn. 

Yet it is better far to love 

While there is life ; gay bosom's say. 
Nor think how soon it all may prove 

A dream, or sun's dissolving ray. 



A CALM. 



Some Hope hath to my breast restored 
A conscious feeling, unexpressed; 

The image which I once adored 
Reposes calmly there, to rest. 

The stirring thoughts that filled before 
Each recess of my burdened mind, 

Have now become in sweeter lore, 
A passion felt, but vindetlned. 



SONG.— WASTED HOURS.— THE WOMAN'S TEAR. 



157 



The wandering essence of my soul. 
From restlessness succumbed to peace; 

A calm, now having full control. 
Hath it subdued to holier ease. 

Remembering that though the dew 

May seem a tear, it is a joy; 
I often think tnat sorrow loo 

As happily may end annoy. 

Remembering that though the night 
Be darkly sad, it brings lis day; 

I often think our woeful plight. 
Like it, hath but a transient stay. 

Remembering that though we weep. 

Our heart feels afterward an ease; 
I chide myself, since sorrows keep 

Forever gladder calms like these. 



SONG. 



If my love were false. 

Then might you disdain it ; 
But as it is true, 

Why not, sweet, retain it ; 
'Twere truer than truth. 

If such could be so; 
I love thee fair Ruth, 

Then pray love me too. 

We can love but once 

In the midst of our strife; 
Once trulj' and surely. 

In the course of this life. 
'Tisthe sunbeams of morn. 

This first feeling sincere ; 
Then smile not in scorn 

At my love for you dear. 

You are far above me, 

But love is not bought ; 
And did you but )ove me. 

Such thing would be nought. 
O maiden return it, 

'Tis all my life's bliss : 
If not, do not spurn it, 

I ask thee but this. 



WASTED HOURS. 

Why should we live in discontent. 

For aimless wishes, hopes : 
When precious moments thus mispent. 

Is darkness where one gropes. 



Why should we live in idleness ; 

Such thriftless minutes sped. 
Will pang us more than we can guess, 

When all their joys are fled. 

Why should we be inactive all; 

And waste those precious hours 
That speed us quickly to the pall, 

'Neath Death's eternal powers? 

Weeds grow among most gardens fair, 
But pluck the weeds from thence. 

And thou wilt have more beauty there; 
A fitting recompense. 

Then mould thy thoughts and acts by day 

To do, accomplish right; 
And follow in the path where atray 

All Virtues of delight. 

Thou hast one duty to pei'form, 

And this performed at last. 
Thou mayst. sheltered from Life's storm, 

Look mildly to the past. 

And claim that which to all is free 

Of noble soul and mind, 
A place among the blessed; to be 

When earth is left behind. 



THE WOMAN'S TEAR. 

O dreaded tear of woman's art. 

The keystone of her viles; 
The last attempt to win a heart, 

When fail her tempting smiles. 
O magic crystal, wondrous power 

Thy simple form constrains; 
The herald of a copious shower. 

If nought thy charm attains. 

Tis said continual drops will wear 

In time through any stone; 
But thou one simple, rolling tear. 

Canst do as much alone. 
'Of stone indeed must be the heart 

Which views thee unconcerned; 
From what mysterious unknown art. 

Were thy cute precepts learned ? 

How is it at the least command. 

You swift appear in view; 
And trembling on the eye-lid stand, 

To dim its beaming hue. 
Like pearl-drops gleamed from skies 
above. 

Thy radiance doth anper; 
Alas ! beware fond heart in love, 

Beware the woman's tear. 



158 PHCEBUS— CYNTHIA.-LOVES.— "WE ARE NOT."— WEALTH. 



PHCEBUS-CYNTHIA. 

What splendor illumir.es the course of the 
sun, 
As ill glory he moves neath the cloudless 
skies ; 

From his rise in the morn till the evening 
when done. 
His refulgence and brilliancy dazzles the 
eyes ; 

As in be (Uty he rises, so brightly he sets. 

When the evening is seen on her cloud- 
parapets. 

What a sheenness enrobes snowy Cynthia 
around, 
When the stars form a crown on her sil- 
very hair ; 

And her beams, whose pure lustre enhances 
the ground. 
Seem like drops of bright crystal seen 
pendent in air ; 

In sweet radiance she passes beneath silent 
skies. 

Disappearing when Phoebus begins to arise. 

Some delighted upclimb to a hill-top at 

morn. 
To observe the expanding of hues in the 

east ; 
When the sun spreadshis crimson on valley 

and lawn. 
And the songsters come forth to prepare 

for their feast ; 
The sweet blushing flowers besprinkled 

with dew. 
They love most to cull when the morning 

is new. 

Some entranced more prefer when bright 

Phoebus is set. 
To wander 'neath boughs in the silence 

of Eve ; 
And to watch every cloud with its garment 

of jet, 
Mystic shapes round the moon and her 

consorts inweave ; 
When the murmurs and whispers of spirits, 

appear 
To sound like the hynmings of lyres on the 

ear. 



That Love is purest which is hidden 

Within the gentle breast; 

That would not have itself discovered. 

Although it loves and is beloved ; 

The pi iceless virgin guest 

That knows no joys forbidden. 

That Love is holiest which is found 

In two fond hearts alone ; 

That asketh nought except a kiss, 

And blusheth in the joy of this ; 

Two souls on Cupid's throne 

By purest Virtue crowned. 

That Love is basest which but gives 
To pleasTire all its hours ; 
The lustful passion of a breast. 
Who can by this alone attest 
The heavenly golden powers. 
Where Love divinely lives. 



LOVES. 



That Love is sweetest which is given 

Unasked for and unsought ; 

A gem enshrined within the heart, 

That will with life alone depai't ; 

And that cannot be bought 

By hope of joy in heaven. 



"WE ARE NOT." 

We are not what Ave seem. 

We smile when we should weep; 
For sorrow is a painful d ream. 

That comes withouten sleep. 
We are not what we seem. 

We thrive in our deceit; 
And thus it is the same we deem. 

All others whom w^e meet. 

Deception is Life's mask. 

Which all of us must wear. 
Something to a proportioned task, 

Unwillingly we bear. 
Most wise is he who scruples well. 

The honest, fools ai-e they; 
For each is master of his will. 

To use it as he may. 

But still I deem it wise. 

And good, in him who lives 
A worthy man in peoples eyes; 

For goodness ever thrives. 
And little is to gain 

In trickery and untruth ; 
The false of false ty complain. 

And soonest come to ruth. 



WEALTH. 



Men live to boast unbounded wealth. 
Yet often die unknowing health ; 
What fits it then the hoard of ease, 
Attained by misery, disease. 
Far rather let me live and poor. 
Than with all wealth such woe endure. 



"O HUSH NOT THE LYRE."— HOPE.— PALEST MAIDEN. 159 



Contentment is a priceless gem. 
Which only crowns Worth's diadem; 
And this alas! we seldom find 
Within a Krasping, saving mind. 
Can one possess the gain of years. 
Attained by sordidness and fears? 

Wealth brings us luxury and case. 
And yet cannot the heart appease. 
No, give me that which I love more. 
Life's frugal, simple, honest, store. 
For not Wealth's hours of idleness. 
Can equal this plain happiness. 



"O HUSH NOT THE LYRE." 

O hush not the lyre though the night pass 

away. 
Such music's too sweet to be stilled for the 

day; 
If the nightingale envied the strain of 

the song. 
Let its breathings still charm us as day 

comes along. 

It whispers of gladness, of chilhhood and 

truth; 
It whispers of sadness we knew after 

youth; 
It whispers of moments which memory 

brings 
To our mind filled again Avith their old 

murmurings. 

Such notes have a rapture to waken the 

heart, 
A throb of delightment nought else can 

impart; 
The cadence responsively thrills with the 

breast. 
While the echoes but waft it again to its 

nest. 

Like the notes of a dying skylark breathed 

near, 
It falls on our hearing though tremulous, 

clear ; 
Like the sigh of the winds, or the voice of 

the sea. 
When it rolls calmly, noiselessly, on the 

white lea. 

O hush not the Ij re though the night pass 

away. 
Continue its symphony also by day ; 
So sad, yet so sweet, is the lingering strain 
One listening would have it repeated 

again ! 



HOPE. 

Alas! that Hope should fondly cheat 
The mind with future joys and sweet. 

And then like night-dreamt visions fade. 
To leave us to our own Despair ; 

Who comes in saddest garbs arrayed. 
Attended by his mistress Care. 

Still man will hope, and hoping feel 
A gladness o'er his being steal; 

Till conquered by the ruthless rage 
Of stern and oft resentful truth. 

He then attains the cast of age. 
Ere scarce are passed his days of youth. 

The blight which falls upon his frame, 
Consumes him by his grief the same; 

Despondent and abject, forlorn. 
His fruits of sweetness turned to gall; 

His night arrives before the morn. 
To shroud him from his fancy-all. 

Why Hope induce us to thy arms 
By baneful yet resistless charms; 

Then turn us all with bitter scoff 
Away, to struggle with despair ! 

The mask of beauty then is off, 
Which made thee look so purely fair. 

Or is it but our frailer soul 

That scorncth oft thy sweet control ? 

Do we ourselves so phantomize 
Thy loveliness to gloomy woe? 

It is, it is, a voice replies. 
Unchanged thy beauty is below ! 



PALEST MAIDEN. 

Palest maiden, fair, but ghostly. 

Art thou bowed beneath some sorrow. 
Which consumes thy being mostly ; 

And wo nicest consolation borrow? 
Look on high, and pray forever, 
Joy must answer thy endeavor. 

Palest maiden, art thou weeping 

For a rashness to be pitied? 
Sorrow is above thee keeping 

Vengence for such sin committed. 
Yet look upward and be surer 
Of a faith, diviner, purer ! 

Palest maiden, sad and holy. 
In thy mood and in thy living ; 

Dolh some sorrow pale thee slowly. 
As if He were unforgiving? 

Penitence is aye a pleader 

To the Holy, sorrow-heeder ! 



160 WHEN I AM DEAD.— THE MAIDEN-PLAINT.— REFLECTION. 



Palest maiden, silent maiden. 
Mute-imploring for a being, 

Like thyself with beauty laiden. 
With thy spotless soul agreeing ; 

Thou on earth must weep forever, 

Since such here existed nevei". 



WHEN I AM DEAD. 

When I am dead, think of me then 
As one beyond most common men; 
A mind mysterioTis in its way, 
Yet moved by a distinctive I'ay; 
By sorrow or by madness tired. 
Or happy hope or joy inspired. 

If I am low, then weep a tear 
If so thou canst, above my bier; 
Or let thy hands be clasped in mine, 
A moment for a hand of thine; 
Or close my dewy lids, or press 
My colder cheeks in sad caress. 

If I am buried, sometimes stray 

Around my cerements of clay; 

And pluck from thence a fragrant flower. 

Memorial of a bi'ighter hour; 

Or kiss the plant, or press the leaves 

When mostly then thy bosom grieves. 

When long I shall be with the dead. 
And time his coui'se of sadness fled; 
If thou art living, cease to pass 
Around the frame which only was; 
And then may thy eternal rest 
Be ever with the heaven blest. 



THE MAIDEN-PLAINT. 

My life is like the lily's pale, 
All snowy clad in nuld despair. 

Which habiting some lovely vale. 
Is seen, but scarcely noticed there. 

And Spring may bless its stately leaves. 
With fresh and cooling evening-showers; 

But still the pallid lily grieves 

To thus reside 'midst other flowers. 

At night the fragrant breeze may blow, 

And gently sway its virgin form; 
And that fair beam its lustre throw, 

In smiles of welcome pure and warm. 
But still it chides the playful breeze, 

And weeps to think another eye 
Her sad and wan-like figure sees. 

Though beaming from the starry sky. 



My life is like the lily's pale. 

So gentle, calm, and holy-pure; 
And i would leave this earthly vale 

Of pain, which I cannot enduie. 
But since those lucid beams from heaven 

Will softly cheer it with their light. 
And since those dew-drops, evening-given 

Are harbingers of morning bright, 
I am like it content to stay. 
Until I also fade away. 



REFLECTION. 

Like floods wiiich flow with sweep sublime. 
Have I observed the march of Time ; 
And find with each succeeding year. 
My hopes and joys the less appear ; 
And find the more I wander on, 
The more I wail for moments gone. 

Unnumbered and as yet unknown, 
Are woes which may be once my own ; 
Uncankered though my bosom be. 
My spirit struggles to be free ; 
Still struggles with a mighty strength. 
Though conquered it may be at length. 

I am not wise as wiser sage, 

I have not reache.l decorous age ; 

Nor yet on Eremite, nor one 

Who rails at all beneath the sun ; 

But passionate and yearning still 

With more than common mortal-will. 

There are some deeds which cannot die. 

And hero-men to glorify ; 

And while I know to use the pen, 

So sliall it be that now and then 

It must persue a certain task, 

Nor help from one nor advice ask. 

It seems two seas I gladly view. 
One darkly gre5% the other blue; 
And distant yonder, double chains 
Of mounts embrace like loving swains ; 
And in the waves those rocks appear. 
Which on the shore majestic rear. 

One mountain stands apart from all. 
And down its sides 'he waters fall ; 
And at its base the rude-shaped rocks 
Repel the flood with foaming shocks; 
And at its top by sun-inbrowned 
A fortress darkly glooms to ground. 

There is a path hewn from its stone. 
Upon whose steps the moss has grown; 
Which leads the foot to reach the height 
Of such a dim and rocky site; 
Until when seen its crumbling mould, 
Spell-bound it will thy vision hold. 



NOVEMBER NIGHTS. 



161 



You look on work of other days. 

Com mend you niciy but never priiise. 

For in this battlement we find, 

P^nou^h 10 awe the liKhtest mind; 

First let us ulimb to where it stands, 

but nerve your heart and clammy hands! 

For far below the waters foam. 

And ra'Ked cra^s, lit>e white tusks loom, 

And breakers roar like thousand beasts 

Which ever growl at nightly feasts; 

A miss would be a lack of breath. 

A transient pass from life to death. 

Fo frail are we, so frailly made. 

That living we persue a shade; 

So strong, we last tlirough woeful years; 

Fo weak, we tremble at our fears; 

So wise, that Nature's laws alone 

Have ever been to us unknown. 

We speak, yet know not how we speak; 
We seek, yet know not what we seek ! 
On distant lands and scenes we gaze. 
And every scene is new amaze; 
We plud through leaves wiiieh bulk our 

books. 
To find all changed in Nature's looks. 

What are we now? Of flesh and bone. 
What we were once? As much unknown. 
What will we be? A mass of dust. 
How were we born ? Perchance by lust. 
These things are stern, but stern the truth 
Which ever greets the mind of youth. 

This scene is drear, a musty smell 

Is r und this lone receptable ; 

Ai;d what is that? A fleshless skull 

Perchance tiil now never so full ; 

For through its sightless space I find 

That dirt had passed and filled the mind. 

Or where the mind a space possessed. 
Though now 'tis gone like all the rest. 
Another here! why how our bones 
Resemble heaps of worthless stones ! 
How far above us is the head. 
How lowly oft when we are dead ! 

Pass further on. the fallen walls 
Have opened wide once lofty halls; 
And none commands a halt to see 
If frieid or foe we chance to be ; 
And none appears with waving crest. 
To greet the ever welcome guest. 

Time has too well its duty done. 
Here life or signs of life are none. 
But fiery balls from covert peer, 
Man may be gone but beasts are here ! 
So then this grand and lofty ruin. 
Is ruled by coyote, wolf, and bruin. 



A fitting reign, the reign of beast! 
Man's feasting done on man they feast. 
But see here lies a broken sword ; 
And here an empty pouch and gourd ; 
And here a medal, glory's crown. 
Lies buried half where trampled down. 

The oak has bent its massy arms, 
The ivy faded with its charms ; 
The weed has overtopped the grass ; 
Which sunburnt lies a withered mass. 
Can one observe this fortress great. 
And dry-eyed view its fallen state? 

Let us descend, I cannot think. 
My thoughts below my bosom sink! 
Let us descend. I cannot stay 
To view it with the night awaj'. 
It only mocks this lonely tomb 
To rouse it from its pendant gloom. 

Let us descend in single file. 
And leave behind this massive pile; 
Here warrior-men perchance have staid 
Through battles fiery cannonade; 
And dared the death the bravest dare. 
To find it maybe unaware. 

Its giant form, its rocky brow. 

Are gloomily depicted now; 

The comliatants who struggled he.'e 

Are too unknown to claim a tear. 

'Tis a fatality, that they 

Who war for nought, so die away I 



NOVEMBER NIGHTS. 

NOVEMBER 2d.— ON BEHOLDING THE MOON. 

Thou fulness of all beautiful, 

Transcendent in the skies; 
Thy lurid vestment flashes, till 

It dazzles both my eyes. 

How queenly art thou now to see; 

The crown aiound thy brows. 
Could well of purest lewels be. 

So brilliantly it glows. 

O w^onderof all wondrous. 

Thou sheeny essence bright; 
How canst thou seem sn fair to us, 

So distant from our sight? 

So is His Will potential done. 
And here displayed in splendor; 

For such a beam, unlike the sun, 
Can silvery radiance render. 



102 



NOVEMBER NIGHTS. 



Sublimely are His lessons given 

To all of mortal birth; 
Else how such effulgence from heaven 

Can bless us all on earth. 

And if puch visions radiantly. 

As shines that sphere immortal. 
Be shown to us, what will we see 

When passed His sapphire portal? 

The music of the sounding spheres. 

Harmoniously conbine; 
But ah, what tones will greet the ears 

When near liis throne divine 

Magnificent with purest sheen. 
The moon now tills the skies: 

And though her glowing face be seen, 
I dare to doubt my eyes. 

It is the queen of Night aud Eve, 
Enrapturing thoughts p]lysian ; 

Who ever in the clouds doth weave 
Some fair, seraphic vision. 

'Tis seldom that I see her come. 

Appearing as to-night ; 
For now in her I see the sum 

Of beauty and of light. 



NOV. 4th.— BATTLE OF THE ELEMENTS. 

How peals the thunder, for o'er each moun- 
tain high 
Like rattling drums, it rolleth fierce and 
loud ! 
And spears of lightning pierce the deep, 
dun sky. 
While spirit bands seemed massed in 
every cloud. 

My soul Is not my own to-night, for who 
can see 
Such mightiness unshaken and unmoved; 
The crash and mingling of Heaven's artil- 
lery 
As if this earth's base crimes were thus 
reproved ! 

Such somberness as this is most siiblime ; 
The grandeur of these battles and their 
might, 
Are equalled not by all the deeds of Time, 
Who hath beholden many a glorious 
fight. 

Yet who can say which conquered, who 
can say 
Why such surprising conflicts were de- 
signed; 
The soul is awed to grief and turns a- way. 
While feelings undescribed bestir the 
mind. 



How insignificant is man amidst such 
power. 
When things above him and below, 
around. 
Are far superior. And but one short hour, 
I Aye but a moment, sees liim 'neath the 
I ground ! 

Philosophers, what is your wisdom worth? 

Less still than nothing, and as some- 
thing nought ; 
Man is but man and man is but of earth. 

Mind-glorified or glorified by thought ! 

Yet it maybe that after death will come 
A sweet surcease to all our mortal toil ; 

So let us tread our pathway on, with some 
Who noblified their life first on this soil. 



NOVEMBER IOTH. 

The night is splended, and the moon 
Hath risen in her beauty. 'Neath the 
skies 

I see her wander, and I sigh that soon 
Her majesty must vanish from my eyes. 

For she instills such feelings pure and 
holy. 
That all entranced I view her radiant 
face; 
And sadly think how base I am and lowly 
Compared to her, queen of the vaulted 
space. 

Such calmness and such beauty can ex- 
pi'css. 
To many pensive minds, more than the 
lore' 
Of the olden Chaldeans; and doth bless. 
Though making us seem frailer than 
before. 

The waves are governed by her, and the 
stars. 
Her twinkling train along the azure-way. 
Cannot compare with her. The cloud 
which mars 
Her brilliance, makes itself a lovelier 
display. 

O I could stand all night and humbly gaze 
On tilings the evening opp>ns to my eyes! 

And ever as my orbs I gladly raise. 
I whisper forth a prayer to the skies. 

It must have blending this tranquillity. 
This stillness with the soul must have a 
blending; 
And will wirh mine long as such sights I 
see. 
And when I cease to see them let my 
life have ending ! 



NOVEMBER NIGHTS. 



163 



NOVEMBER *J:^D. 

"We all must feel, yet few that know 
The feelinj?s that delight inj- soul, 

When gazing on thy lurid glow, 
O moon, that du-st above me roll ! 

As if the heart, and soul, and sense. 

Were thrilling wilh a joy intense. 

What difference in the azure vault. 
For yonder one black troop of clouds 

Above the barren hillocks halt, 
Jiegirt by many sable shrouds. 

They glisten yet with drjpsof rain. 

Which erstwhile beat my window pane. 

But round thy disk. O fairy moon. 

The azure and thy silver glow 
Have mingled, like young plants festoon. 

And on tlie listless ether throw 
Such various hues of fretworK fair. 
That one entranced beholds them there. 

How thou dost bless and beautify 
The aspect of those distant skies ; 

When rising beaulifuUy high. 
To gain the worship of our eyes. 

And of our souls, for who can see 

Thy radiance and not worship thee ! 

The morning dawned on fields of rain. 
The noon beamed witli a cloudless sky : 

The n'ght was like the morn again. 
Until thou I'ose all radiant high. 

Then clouds of night as those of day. 

By thee were swift dispersed away. 

See yonder with a misty speed 
The rain-clouds go with haste along; 

Thy beams are as a charm indeed. 
To thus dissolve the murky throng. 

They could not thus resist thy light, 

O may thou linger through the night ! 

Lo. on the coverlet of my bed. 
Thy beams in mystic fancy play ; 

Then circle round my pillowed head, 
As if forever there to stay. 

hop-^, to deem it is a crown 
Thus evanescently sent down ! 

Exilerating is the. joy, 

Which in my breast doth wildly bound ; 
Thou seemest some chaste maiden coy. 

Whom radiant gems have folded round. 
A bliss art tliou, aye words have dearth 
That would express thy beauty-birth ! 

1 do not reck of all the things 

Tills peopled earth may have to give ; 
When fuch a night of glory brings 

'I'o me those thoughts with which I live. 
If tliou art thus so beauteous here. 
How more so in thy own bright sphere ! 



NOVEMBER 23d.— THE STORM, 

Sweet night of darkness and sweet melody. 

How ye do charm my ear! 

With strains as loud, as when the heaving 

sea, 
Like son e leviathan, uprises from its bed; 
And roars to heaven darkening overhead. 
Gloom-shrouded as a bier. 

Rage winds, thy harmony is sweet ! 
What though you roar as when the world. 
Chaos-like yet, by thy great strength did 

meet. 
And disconnected things in wondrous 

course. 
Met with such a mighty force. 
That other planets from their sides were 

hurled. 

To-night I listen to thy stormy roar. 

And do experience feelings such 

As penetrate to the intersest depth of the 

heart's core. 
Soul, mind, and all are carried with the 

winds; 
Whose giant arms this sphere all tremb- 
ling finds 
Of mighty force and touch 

Rock to your deep foundation mountains ! 
The seas are mightier than ye. and they 
Bubble as from thy sides bubble pure 

fountains. 
And when the engaging winds on high 

so war. 
From the unbounded space of azure far. 
Is heard their furious fray. 

This is the mightiest of all strains, the 

elements 
Commingling in their weirdest power. 
Have poured forth from their instruments 
An anthem loud, which heaven must re- 
ceive, 
And the deep echo of those sounds will 

leave 
Their dying notes behind for many an 
hour. 

Listen again, and listen yet, and yet again. 

To this sublimest lyre ! 

Art thou not awed and spell-bound by the 
strain. 

The unpremeditated song of Nature's 
Mute. 

Which upheaves pillars and makes moun- 
tains loose; 

Such its wild notes inspire. 

O I have thought me that the ancient tale. 
When Nature moved in Orpheus' wake ; 
When giant trees uprooted in their native 
vale. 



164 



FUTURE DAYS.— "IF ONE COULD READ.' 



And floofis dcvntedfrom their usual flow; 
And mou tains onward marched with lofty 

brf w. 
Heard such grand music as these winds do 

make! 



Yea, from the uttermost boundary of space. 
They thundering seem to come ! 
And sweep unswerving o'er Nature's face. 
Unseen, yet heard ; and felt in their huge 

might 
Increasing with each moment, till the 

night 
Herself is striken dumb ! 



From what capacious caverns do they hie 
These winds of mystery ? 
What potent power speeds them thusly by? 
We do not know, and yet their swelling 

strains 
Still echo loudly o'er the azure plains, 
>.ow gloomy-hued to see. 



They are immeasurable as the veiled past, 
Which had existence tir t with time! 
With Time's unfathomable end so they 

trust last. 
Uncoiitiollable and irresistable ihey are: 
Eaith with them lirst began, nor can she 

bar 
Their loud continuous chime. 



To-night they are in furj% yet such mad- 
ness 

Holds but a greater charm for me ! 

For it doth calm and dispel the deep sad- 
ness 

Of my still soul, Avho weepeth, since wc 
know 

Nought of these things and why forever 
so. 

As wondering T see ! 



Yet roar on loudly winds, yet mightier 

I oar ! 
As beauty when in anger seemeth best. 
So would I have thee raging evermore. 
O better now you please, than when with 

soft prelude. 
Thy whispered accents on the ear entrude; 
And soothe the fervent breast. 



Roar on forever, aye, nor ever cease ! 

Like loosened furies on the blast 

Come thy wild notes, as if no more were 

peace 
To bless the regions of the balmy air. 
But calmer now you grow, thy lyrist 

there 
Hath hushed his strain at last. 



.\nd gentlier upon the listening ear, 

As if the echo of those luelodies 

Were still upon the ether, do I hear 

A sweeter plaint; a sadder and lower 

tone. 
A long continual and gusty moan. 
Which at the last did quickly cease. 



FUTURE DAYS. 



Can future days present the peace 
That is experienced in our youth ; 
('an we as years our age increase. 
Retain sweet childhood's simple truth ? 
Or will not rather older years 
Be m irkcd by c.ilumuy and wrong ; 
Tiie ceaseless shedding of hot tears, 
The blighted hopes by truer fear.s, 
The loss of all the heart endears, 
Among Life's struggling throng? 

Can future days renew the past? 
The mildness of that gentle morn 
Its hues of joy must fade at last. 
Upon th • wiuL's of sorrow borne. 
For Age alas ! knows seldom jilee. 
Youth's rippling laughter then will turn 
To sneering smiles of mockery ; 
Youth's joyful I! ess will cease to be. 
Our bosom still though more than free. 
For sweeter freedom yearn. 

Can future days recall the past 
Without a tear, without a sigh? 
Without a wish thai it could last. 
To silence ages obloquy? 
To soothe the pangs of woeful pain, 
To still ihe bosom's sad i egret? 
Yet all we hope and wish in vain. 
Youth's days cannot return again ; 
We must exist bound by the chain 
Of age, and die before we fret. 



"IF ONE COULD READ." 

If one could read the humpn hearts 
Of those that pass him every day ; 
Or could his own hid heart survey. 
Its frequent anguish, frequent starts, 
lis rays of hope, e.xtinguished quite. 
Its hidden secrets, sorrows, woes. 
And despairs in th'ir maddest throes ; 
How startled were his sight ! 



FLOWERS.— "WHAT HEART HATH NEVER." 



165 



If but the innoss of the breast 
Were by a mirror ht Id to view ; 
A\'here soul and all could therein shew, 
O could we then so calmly rest? 
'J'heir dissapoinimcnts sad. and deep. 
Torn striniis of horrid agony; 
And frozen tears for grief to be, 
Would mingling form a woeful heap. 

O 'neath the mask of forced smiles 

How stern the lines of justice are; 

The truth we only shame and mar 

No more the bosom then beguiles. 

We often lull ouri-elves to sleep. 

I<ut must again perforce awake; 

A lid tears supuressed. be forced to break 

Through cells,' which bar the way to weep. 

'Tis better that we still believe 
The heavt is good that is not so; 
'Tis better that Ave do not know 
How others weep, how oth«'rs grieve! 
There is a blessing in a smile 
Which cheereth up our heart's recess; 
And makes our su tiering seem less. 
And brings us di earns of joj' awhile. 



FLOWERS. 

O flowers, flowers, Gods messengers and 
beautitiers of all e;irth. 
His prophets too of existence, aye, and 
death! 
Wherefrom we see pure innocence at 
birth. 
And wither calmly by the soft ether's 
breath; 
The decorator's of the social banquet's 
mirth. 
The buried's canopy, the virgin's only 
wreath. 



Chase portraiture of all which chaste is 

living. 
Spiritual you are. Nature's mute-thrilling 

lore. 

Hopes of the future, recorders of the past; 
Joy of the present ; dead oft, yet never 
d.Ning. 
The unsyllabJed language that thou hast. 
Is known to all, midst hnppiness or 
sighing; 
Life's most enchanting vision which can 
never last. 
Yet soothing the soul oft in its bitter 
trying. 

Beautiful potentates of His Almighty 
Will ! 
Remembrance's talismans, spirits of the 
mind. 
Withering forever and yet blooming still, 
Rapturous chorus of the melodious wind. 
The mountain's blessing, love of every 
rill. 
And every valley, which in calm we find. 

Essence of purity, rayless gems of light, 
Cup-bearers for the crystal liquid dew; 

The odoro'.is angels of the noiseless night. 
The voiceless love- words of all lovers 
true; 

The beautiful instructors to our sight 
Of a radiant Paradise on earth anew ! 

O flowers, flowers, still beyond the theme 

Of mortal inspiration's worship-all ; 
Fjr more than earthly doth thy presence 
seem. 
Sacred mngici^ns, I would gladly call 
These colored imageries of our sleepless 
dream. 
Which hold so much our throb'oiog 
heart in thraii ! 



O flowers, flowers, divine interpreters of Obeauti<'ul, most beautiful they are! 

some far sphere. More beautitul than larguage can ex- 

Beyondthis peopled one, yet that one ' „ , P^?|^: . ^.^ , i, ^^ 

P' opled too ! I O beautiful, more beautiful by far 

But not as grosser we. no seraphs wander 



there. 
Robed in celestial glory, like the vault of 

blue; 
You ask more than a look or sympathetic 

tear. 
More than the passionate kisses of all 

lover's true ! 



Than any other living lovliness ! 
They seem the spirit beings to unbar 
The heavenly portal to all joys recess! 



WHAT HEART HATH NEVER,' 



You breathe of heaven and make our 
earth a heaven. I 

Thy various semblances portrayed di- | What heart that hath never yet bowed to 
vinely more, the shrine 

And unseen fragrance which is to you Where Beauty unconquercd reclines on 
given, her throne; 

Wafts blissful ecstacies into the bosom's And who hath not loved, and in loving be- 
core ! lieved 



16S 



TO MARY.— PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



The heart of some inaiden but beat with 

his own ; 
And who hath not found that he was all 

deceived. 
And wasted his life and his manhood 

alone * 

O ^^ho hath not quaffed out of life's brini- 
mina: cup 
Pure draughts of sweet pleasure and 
most of despair ; 
And found all too late this existence a 
cheat : 
For m my strive nobly yet know nought 
but care. 
And often hath truth been outshamed by 
deceit. 
While might masters justice, and envy 
the fair. 

O who hath not trusted and found friend- 
ship false. 
The i-wcetness of childhood turn bitter 
in age? 
The ca'm sea of gladness, though tranquil 
and depp: 
Is awakened too soon by misfortune's 
li(M-ee rage ; 
The soul once so cloudless in sunshine 
asleep, 
'Gainst ti-oub'e and rancor fiercs war 
must then rage. 

Yet who hath not lived, undiscovered by 
these. 
An existence unbroken by sad discon- 
tent? 
Wide deserts have places where beauty 
can l)Ioom, 
When' fragrance perfumes the still air 
with its scent. 
Here Nature can thrive and with bright- 
ness resume 
The hop'^s which we knew, with which 
gladness were blent. 



Be not as some fair ones too haughty. 

Smile alike on the wealthy and poor ; 
Remember a heart may he noble. 

Though craving his bread at your door 
Renevolence gives hut is moie thin repaid. 
And the heart by such acts is the belter 
displayed. 

IJe calm 'mi ist severest misfortunes. 
He firm in thy goodness and truth ; 

Remember the lesson once tauiiht thee, 
And follow thy precepts of youth. 

There is now one sweet pathway before 
thee. 

Tread it gladly, for God is still o'er thee! 



TO MARY. 



Be chaste as the moon and more constant. 
Unsullied by nought but the air; 

Be nure ms tlie fl'wers around thee, 
Wiio dying are iraTisplanted there; 

And thus in thy peerless beauty. 

Thou canst follow His Will and thy duty. 

Be modet?t as birds in the bowers. 
Who sing while remaining unseen ; 

Be gentle as winds, which in softness. 
Pass over these fair valleys green ; 

Be kind atid in tenderest loving. 

All vice with severe glance reproving. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 

THEY ARE DEAD. 

Thou art gone to thy graves and a nation 
bewails thee. 
Bewails thee great soldiers so true and 
so bra\e ; 
Thou art low in the tomb, but one ques- 
tion assjiils me. 
Can sucli a lory as thine be confined to 
ihe grave 1 

Thou art gone to thy rest with a nation 
around thee. 
Enjoying the freedom thy life grandly 
^H\ e ; 
Thou art still in thy tomb, bat a nation 
hath crowned thee. 
And its banner untainted waves o'er thy 
grave. 

When the pilgrims, thy fathers, came over 
before thee, 
Unfliiich ng. undaunted, they nothing 
did crave ; 
So thy Country has cause in its joy to 
adore thee. 
Who asked nought but Freedom which 
Victory gave. 

The home of thy fathers for war was for- 
saken. 
Thy glories in battle may well honor 
crave ; 
The land which for freedom xmited did 
waken. 
Is fittest true heroes to hallow thy grave. 

Thou art buried forever, howso we deplore 
ihee. 
The men who oiir Liberty grandly did 
save ; 
And we send forth our prayers that time 
n)ay restore thee. 
And courage, in men who will worship 
thy grave. 



TOGETHER. 



167 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 

The battle was over, the dead and the 

All mingled together, lay low on the 
plain ; 
Here friend near a friend, near a foenian 
was l.\ ing. 
Some Disr .ill tormcntings, some shriek- 
ing with pain. 

Who had won. those who fought for their 
Freedom and right ; 
For thci r hrmes and their parents, their 
(JounTry and -All 
Or the hirelings of one, who by force or 
by might. 
Expected these p2opl3 to bow to his call? 

Could a heaven look down npon such a 
brave nation. 
And beh 1 i it by Tyranny ever oppr-"ssed: 
No, He wished to attone for their long des- 
< laiion. 
Who at List were by freedom eternally 
blessed. 

The battle was over, the dead and the 

dying. 
All min,'led together, lay low on the TOGETHER. 

1 lain; 
But above them in glory the banner was Let us float down the sirea:n in the galley 



So our Hero came forth in his glory and 
might. 
To lead on the vans midst the thunder and 
I'oar 
Of the cannons which hailed him as 
Chief evermore ! 

And forget not the brave ones who dying 

stiil fought. 
For their country and home, 'gainst a 

king and a throne: 
And forget not the buried who live yet in 

thought. 
Whose eyes with a spirit unquenchable 

shone 
Since such valor as theirs we may need for 

our own. 

With a courage undaunted they marched 

to the field. 
With a C'>urage uncoaquered they met 

every loss; 
Their watchword was "Freedom;" their 

piayers '* No yield !" 
They fought as men fought once who 

fought for the cross, 
Let thf'ir glory be not only covered by 

moss. 



of mist, 
With our oars dripping manna, and 
scented the sail-; 
Let its prow hi all studded with bright 
amethyst. 
With winds from Arcadia to waft us for 
gales. 

Letu3 land on an island where basil and 
thyme 
With rose, daffjdilles, have woven their 
bowers; 
And the fragrance around us will lullingly 
chime 
Our senses to sleep, when we give Love 
the hours. 

Let us sink to the caves where the syren 
queens dwell. 
With their bro.vo bound with sapphire, 
their eyes like the pearls; 
And list to the music divine from their 
shell. 
Which can charm the old Ocean and all 
his mad whirls. 

'^'"^fni^roMih^&.w.*^'' grass and the Let us rise to the planets that sparkle 



flying. 

Which Columbia had rescued from 
tyranny's stain. 

And above them still waving the flag is 
discerned. 
Thougli it droops half in sorrow for 
those that are gone. 
They are gone, (ilory now to the grave 
has returned. 
When hir deeds hereon earth and for 
freedom were done. 



•REMEMBER THE DEEDS. 

Remember the deeds of our soldier in bat- 
tle. 
When Columbia fought nobly with Eng- 
land her foe; 
When the death of a hero was hailed by 
the rattie 
Of far speeding bullets which sped 
through his brow; 



Like the star that shines forth in the dun 
of the idght. 
And illumines' the wandering seamen to 
shore; 



Where the choirs angelic symphonious 

sing; 
Or fly through the ether in clasp of pure 

love. 
To rival the eagle and falcon on wing. 



168 MAID'S DISCO VERY. -STOLEN SW EETS.-TO ANNIE.— TO KITTY. 



Anywhere, evprywhere, while in thy 
sweet embrace. 
Would a hfo be an Eden of blissfulness 
spent; 
Anywhere, everywhere, while Hook at 
thy face. 
Underneath where yon heaven hath 
spread its blue tent! 



Who, when through the casement gleam- 
ing 

Come- the silver-vested moon, 
Wakens star-like eyes to beaming. 

Stills the air with passion's tune? 

It is Cupid, with lutean 

Musii ; speaking love's desire; 
Neath her windows then, his pean 

Breatheth forth its notes of fire. 



THE MAID'S DISCOVERY. 

Unseen angels pass before me. 
Whispering thou dost adore me;- 
Unseen angels wing above me, 
Whispeiing that thou dost love me; 
And rtovvcrs fair, which I kiss nigh, 
iiut say the same with many a sigh. 

Exotics rnrm in bloom are wreathing, 
2vii!Vgling their delicious breatliing; 
And the Zephyrs sweetly phiyin j-. 
Where the evening gems are laying, 
Whisper fairy voices round me. 
Saying love at last hash found me. 

Lingering lightly, twilight shadows 
Trembling rest above the meadows; 
F oating gracefully, in the ether 
Snowy cloiuls have come together; 
Mixir.g some delicious feelinjr. 
O'er my heart so sweetly stealing. 

Away cool groves, ye all are listening. 
Dim, stars, above so brightly glistening ; 
Rest, stream, so brightand clearly flowing. 
Hide, moon, such amber radiance throwing; 
My heart hath now its tender proving, 
I am beloved and am beloving ! 



At a sound, amrelic features 
Gaze with joy to earth below ; 

At the sound, fairest of creatui'es 
Feelingly begins to glow. 

Who then binds these souls together. 
j Links which time procliims his own; 

Which oftimes through sorrow's ether, 
I Are but firmer, sweeter grown. 

I It is Cupid, earthly mortals. 
Can ye ask for purer bliss? 
Only oast far heaven's portals 
Will ye know more joy than this. 



STOLEN SWEETS. 

Stolen pleasures are the sweetest. 
Stolen sweets the purest bliss ; 

Of all joys, the still completest, 
Though so transient, is this. 

Who the culprit for the robbing 
Of swift irlances from bright eyes? 

Who the culprit for the thiobbing. 
Of sad bosoms tilled with sighs ! 

It is Cupid, divine spirit 

Thrills the chords of every breast; 
And from love he doth inherit 

The swtjet power which makes us blessed 



TO ANNIE. 

Nursed by the dews which are snrinkled 
from heaven. 
All flowers bloom forth in their various 
forms; 

And show each fair morn how such es- 
sence is given. 
Which bringeth them pei'fumc and ra- 
diance of charms; 

And thou of earth's flowers the sweetest 
and purest. 

My soul with thy innocent beauty allurest. 

And as some sweet buds are beyond the 
attaining 
Of men who would pluck them in haste 
from their steni; 

So thou in thy Chastity's gai'den remain- 
ing. 
Shall bloom purely forth in pure lustre 
for Him; 

How lioly and calm the existence thou 
sbarest, 

O would I could woo thee the youngest 
and fairest ! 



TO KITTY. 

At nierht when heavenly fancy weaves 
Visions of shapes in higher spheres; 

My soul enchanted too believes. 
Thy form among the rest appears. 



CUPID WREATHE.— TO SYBYL.— TO ROSE. 



169 



As brightly radiant as the throng 
That dwell in blissfulness divine; 

With golden wings to float along. 
And gems in place of eyes to shine. 

And thou of this angelic train 

Seemest to be the fairest still; 
For whatsoever you ordain. 

They unresist thy beauty-will. 

Around a sapphire shining gro\ind. 

With veils that droo^ in silver white. 
You airily wander; while the sound 

Of golden harps gives pure delight. 

I do not know why I am blest 
By such bewitching scenes as these; 

Unless it is my woeful breast 
Some spirit hope must needs appease. 

And when I yearn with pleading eyes. 
And arms, to clasp thy airy form; 

The scene dissolves away like sighs. 
Or vapours 'neath the sun-beams warnr 

O bless me not in dreams alone; 

Smile on me Avhen I am awake ! 
If thou wilt not, let Fancy's own 

Mv slumbers nevermore forsake ! 



CUPID WREATHE. 



TO- 



One look, one smile, had bid me hope 

I loved thee not in vain; 
And also helped those fears to cope 

Which bring me nought but pain. 
But no this was and less denied 

By thee, remorseless maid ! 
And so I wandered from thy side. 

Too long had I delayed. 

Thy form is one of gentle mould. 

Thy face is gentler cast; 
And I had hoped— as fancy told— 

To win thy love at last. 
But ah how soon, how soon, destroyed 

This fickle happiness: 
That very one my bosom buoyed, 

Hath caused me now distress ! 

Thus do we look at distant things. 

Through fancy's cheating eye; 
Or borne on hope's delusive wings 

To joy's fair kingdom fly. 
But ah, too soon stern truth will show 

These things reality; 
And pleasures once will turn to woe, 

And woe unceasing be ! 



TO SYBYL. 

I chose thee f i om amidst the throng 

Of beauty's dazzling train; 
Among them all. thou there among 

My eyes viewed not in vain. 
I chose thee from amidst them all 

As purest and the best; 
Just such a one as I could call 

The life- beam of my breast; 
I chose thee, aye. I chose thee first ! 
And now, can I now wish thee curst ? 

Within thy features something dwelt. 

Both seen and not unknown; 
That moved my heart, until it felt 

It could not live alone. 
Among thy tresses something played. 

Something— a golden chain. 
W^ithin thy orbs a charmer strayed. 

That bound me— one again 
There beat a heart within thy breast. 
How many have that 'oosom pressed? 

Yet looks of seeming innocence 

Smiled sweetly from thy face; 
Though intermixed stern looks intense, 

Sometimes I there could trace. 
But who would deem thee as thou art. 

False, frail in passion too! 
O God, that thus my youthful heart 

Should so be chained to you ! 
For Avith all this I love thee still. 
Against my reason's struggling will . 



TO ROSE. 



My soul and life are bound in thee, 
in chains so firm, in links so strong. 

That nought could ever rend me free; 

Nor would I ever wish to be 
My life-time long. 

My fate is now so wrapped in thine. 
That like two birds together pass. 

We closer draw when storms combine; 

And both the same at mornings shine. 
Sing happy mass ! 

Our path hath not been strewn with flow- 
ers 

Which bloom in lustre of the year; 
Nor yet were thorns of sorrow ours. 
For sometimes balmy, fi-agrant showers. 

Gave gentle cheer. 

Let us still wander gladly on. 

Contented in each other's love; 
Nor weep for joyless moments gone. 
For hope still shines, like that bright sun 

In glory above ! 



170 TO KITTY.— TO KITTY.— TO KITTY.— BEAUTIFUL SPIKIT. 



TO KITTY. 

Thy features in radiance are clothed. 

Such radiance as comes from the skies; 
I know thee as one lonar bethrothed, 

Yet this but reneweth my sighs, 

Thy soul is as pure as tis holy, 
Thy presence like stars in the night. 

Have raised to sublime thoupfhts the lowly; 
Which brin^ scenes angelic in sight. 

Thy breast is like snow of the vesture, 
That folds thy sweet essence around; 

And O with what gracefuUest gesture. 
You seem to float over the ground ! 

'Tis true you belong to another. 

Which brnndeth my worship a shame; 
Yet tears which I weep, do not smother. 

But ever increase passion's flame. 

O let me then live— not imploring- 
No, no, God forbid it be this ! 

But at thy shrined soul still adoring. 
To me a diviness of bliss ! 



And though I receive no returning, 

Existence will yet be a joy; 
My breast, though oft throbbing and yearn- 
ing. 

From grief thus obtains an alloy. 

though to my heart never nearer, 
'Tis still one sweet pleasure to know 

1 love thee; though one who is dearer, 
Confesseth his passson as so. 

O thou art a joy to my seeing, 
A bliss to my bosom when niyh; 

And art sure, O etherial being. 
That he can half love thee and I ! 



TO KITTY, 



O all the shapes which fancy weaves. 

When in her idle hours; 
Are nought to thee, for she believes 

You equal her in powers. 

And all the charms the lips can name. 

Are centered in thy being; 
For eyes that look upon thy frame. 

Are dazzled in their seeing. 

The silver glory that enshrines 
Mild Cynthia's form at even. 

Enhanced in thy fair form combines. 
With azure beams from heaven. 



The mellow light which on the brow 

Of glaciers lingers slowly. 
Envelopes in a radiant glow. 

Thy featm'es beaming holy. 

The crystal dew which on the rose. 
At morn's fair prime is sleeping; 

Finds on thy lips a sweet repose. 
With breath of amber steeping. 

The sky when spanned by golden rays. 

Whose brilliance nought surpasses. 
Is like the silk which idly lays 

On thy head in profuse masses. 

But pardon one could not portray 
The beauty of each feature; 

For only heaven's pencil ray 
Could realize such creature ! 



TO KITTY. 

Not all the stars which deck the skies. 

From eve to breaking morn. 
Reveal as mvich as thy pure eyes. 

Unto my breast forlorn. 

For they in radiance from above, 

Through folds of azure shew; 
As if to tell me she I love, 

I love at distance too. 

But heavenly powders could bring me near. 
When will such bliss be given ? 

Perchance— this hope my breast doth cheer; 
Perchance 'twill be in heaven. 



BEAUTIFUL SPIRIT. 

Beautiful spirit come to me. 
In all nly sleepless dreams; 

For every form or thing I see. 
With thy own beauty teems? 

Desert me not when at this hour, 

I need thy presence most: 
My soul doth seem within the power 

Of an unseen spirit-host ! 

Where thy celestial aspect glows. 

There also is the day; 
For in thy form a radiance shows. 

That melteth night awaj". 

were it not for thy pure face. 
Which ever haunts my side, 

1 feel this earth would be no place 
For my soul to abide. 



TO KITTY. -TO 



TO KITTY. -TO KITTY. 



171 



Beautiful spirit come to me, 
AVlth thy voice of music's waters; 

I know thee and I worshiu thee. 
As one of heaven's daughters I 



TO KITTY. 

Did not thy form with every day. 

Remind me of thy love for thee. 
Perchance in time 'twould pass away. 

As something that had pleased to be; 
A dream's resistless witchery ! 

Did not thy features, beauty-blent. 

Recall to me the painful tears 
Which often for thy sake are spent; 

Perchance they would in course of years 
Relieve it by what age endears. 

But long as thou.and I are near. 

And thy pure essence I behold, 
My love can never disappear; 

And though its passion be untold. 
It shall not be by fear controlled. 



TO 



I have foimd that thou art dearer 
To my heart than all the rest; 

And without thee life were drearer, 
Than my words can well attest. 

Cupid brought thy form before me, 
Garbed in beauty unequalled; 

Then a feeling Dure came o'er me. 
Which all baser ones repelled. 



TO KITTY. 

A feeling I cherish. 

Within my love breast. 
Which never shall perish 

'Till death give me rest. 
And then still uprising. 

In words left behind; 
Or spirits surprising. 

That vving on the wind; 
This feeling will render. 

Immortal in plaint 
Its pure passion tender. 

As the love of a saint. 
Now tremblintr and dying. 

It still lives for thee; 
On thee still relying. 

Who caused it lo be. 
The flower may wither, 

In odorous decay; 
And winds sweeping thither, 

Waft the remnants away. 
So death by his power 

May give my love end. 
But let us life's hour. 

As lovingly blend. 
The beat of one bosom 

Is weak when alone. 
And oft buds a blossom 

Uniioticed, unknown. 
Then list to the feeling 

Which passions me now; 
And tell me tis stealing 

Alike over thou. 
Enrobing in happiness. 

Thy ever cold breast; 
So making my life no less 

A life with the blessed. 
The rays of the sunshine. 

Are gleaned from the sun; 
So let thy love and mine 

As brightly form one. 



TO KITTY. 



And I love thee madly, blindly. 
Beyond all calm reasoning; 

Y'ethast thou, at best unkindly. 
Blasted my young love's fond spring. 

I cannot nor would not chide thee. 

Thou hast done but for the best; 
For I think tho\i hast denied me. 

Since another claims thy breast I 



I O think not I am like the bee. 

So apt to stray from flower to flower; 
I When first my eyes reposed on thee, 
I That moment knew I Cupid's power. 

Look on the sky, how many stars 
I Shine in its azure palace-roof; 

Yet but one beam their lustre mars, 
' Against whose beauty none are proof . 



I persue my way with weeping. 

Like some souls for treasures lost; 
Yet my breast retains the keeping 

Of the heart which loves thee most 



And could I let my soul adore 
Some other maiden with thee near; 

No. chide the thought forevermore. 
Thou art of all the dearest, dear ! 



172 



TO KITTY.— TO KITTY.— ANNIE.— SONG. 



TO KITTY. 

Wert thou less fair, one grace the less. 
To mar thy features loveliness; 
Thou wert not that which now thou art. 
To me and all the Avorld beside, 
A maiden young in beauty's ])ride, 
Wliose shapely mould, whose tender heart. 
Ill-suits to mingle in life's throng. 
The home of calumny and wrong. 

Wert thou less fair, one grace the less, 
It would not mar the tenderness. 
The essence of thy virgin soul 
Nor change thee in my wooing eyes, 
For there all of sweet'beauty lies. 
These are the things which most control. 
And show us life by purer rays, 
Such can we all commend or praise. 

Wert thou less fair, one grace the less, 
That love which I in words express. 
Would not be changed in warmth of fire. 
For there is that around thy face, 
A sw^eetness and a )iameless grace. 
Which e'en in death could not expire! 
Which makes us think of higher things. 
And to our soul a calmness brings ! 



TO KITTY. 

I have a garden where few flowers 

Upspring in tender bloom; 
And wonder of all wonderment. 

They all thy shape assume. 
The dew^ which every morning lies 

Upon their shell-like leaves; 
That they do seem thy radiant eyes. 

My soul flrmly believes. 

The perfume which issues from them 

Thy breathings seem to be; 
And they recline upon their stem. 

As pure and lovingly. 
Some bhie as thy clear azure eyes. 

Some rosy as thy cheeks; 
Some lily white, like snow that lies 

Upon thy bosom's peaks. 



As queenly in their haughty air, 

As thou, when thou art cold. 
So modest, virtuous, more than fair, 

And graceful to behold. 
But ah, alas ! that beauty such 

Should wither and decay; 
They tell me she I love so much, 

Like these will fade away. 



ANNIE. 



Thou art not of earth, for something 
breatlies 

Upon thy heavenly features fair 
A beauteous image, that en wreathes 

Around thee like a thing of air. 

Thou art not of earth, for something shines 
Within the slumber of thy eyes. 

The unfathomed glory which "divines 
Those winging spirits of the skies. 

Thou art not of earth, thy buoyant form 
Seems wandering in a higher sphere; 

For angel beings ever swarm 
Around thee, when thou drawest near. 

Thou art not of earth, thy spotless soul. 
Shining in glory through thy eyes. 

Seems thrilling with divine control 
O'er visions in the distant skies. 

Thou art not of earth, but like the light 
Of morn in all its dazzling sheen; 

Something too beautifiil for sight. 
And vanishing as soon as seen. 



SONG. 



When the morn is breaking 

O'er the eastern hills, 
And the groves are waking. 

While rippling flow the rills; 
Through the meadows passing. 

On I wend my way; 
To where beams amassing. 

Round a cottage play. 

Flow^ers are glistering brightly 

Beneath their gems of dew; 
The birds are singing lightly. 

And sweetly singing too. 
The whisper of the breeze 

Is every moment swelling; 
'Tis heard among the trees. 

His love for mischief telling. 

The day is growing brighter, 

Across the moorland low; 
My heart is feeling lighter. 

The blood is to my brow. 
For soon will I behold her. 

The jewel of my heart; 
And in these arms enfold her, 

No more, no more to part ! 



TO KITTY.— LIFE'S WOOF.— ANNIE. 



178 



TO KITTY. 

every day thy face to see 
Were joy surpassing sweet! 

To one beloved much more than me. 
To one who.is what I would be. 
And yet perchance 'tis meet; 
My wayward nature could not brook 
To ever dwell upon that look. 

Or to receive a smile from thee 
Were bliss beyond compare! 
Yet smiles however pure they be. 
Will without moments warning flee. 
And sorrow settle there. 
However much such may beguile, 

1 could not dwell upon a smile. 

O every day to hear thee speak 

Were pleasures intinite ! 

But more than that my heart doth seek. 

When love grows cold words waxen weak; 

So ever has been fate. 

And when my pain they could not quell. 

No love could list each syllable. 

But could I press thee to my heart. 
And kiss whilst thus enioraced ! 
Xo purer joy could life impart; 
Nor death could tear the clasp apart. 
Nor were each kiss effaced ! 
But ah I weep to think of this. 
'Tis bliss, but yet ungiven bliss. 



LIFE'S WOOF. 

I think that God had not consistently 

Created man for an ideal life. 
But rather leaveth him exist to be 

Pepetually in its bitter strife. 
Weaving, a\ caving, 
Hopes deceiving. 

Spinning, spinning, 
Earthly robes. 

While His Life is still beginning 
Grander planets, grander globes ! 

For if all mortals were to be created 

As godliheads upon this circling earth. 
E'en then their souls would become sated 

In the divinity of such a birth. 
It is better 
Life should fetter. 

Ending, blending. 
It with Death. 

So man's spirit then ascending 
May be mingled with His breath. 



For such is Life and its perpetual striving. 

Whose mystic meaning none may un- 
derstand. 
Those who are living or are still surviving. 

Are plying Life threads with a busy hand. 
Weaving, weaving. 
Faith believing, 

Spinning' spinning. 
Webs of Love. 

Wiiile a new life is beginning 
In the older life above. 



Ann yet however in this mighty loom 

Which doth comprise the Universe, 
see 
Perpetual sorrow and perpetual doom 

Of such a sorrow, woven eternally. 
All are ending 
In joy blending. 

And the sorrow. 
And the grief. 

On some glorious to-morrow. 
Shall be glorified belief! 



ANNIE. 



O loveliest of all beings ! lovelier still 
Than fancy can create of things divine. 

There js a spirit throbbing in my will, 
A yearning that no language can define. 

Alas ! that Hope doth .loy fully instill 
A hope of joy that never can be mine. 

We are as far apart as stars that range 

The azure regions in their interchange. 

Wert thou more earthly-seeming— but a 
frame 

Moulded as other maidens earthly mould 
Created in their vanity the same. 

Notovershy, nor coy, but overbold; 
Man might aspire such loveliness to claim. 

Within his arms such beauty to enfold. 
Put I turn from thee as from her above. 
Whose Holiness is sacred in my love. 



There is a halo round thy form which tells 
Of some divinest essence dwelhng there 

That enthralk'd; one subdueth aud repels 
The lighter pniise we give to other fair. 

Thy voice is like the harmony of bells 
Joyously ringing in the Summer air. 

While charms unspeakable and graces 
calm 

Have folded thee live leaves and India- 
palm. 



174 



TITANS.— A QUONDAM EPISTLE. 



I cannot look upon thee, lest I feel 
The intense wish that thou wert mine 
for aye; 
Yet will I look upon thee if to steal 
Joy from thy glances, glory from their 
ray. 
Since thy bright eyes do beauteously x'e- 
veal 
The pure effulgence of a blissful way. 
O sapphire-pearls ! O amber-shinii g dew ! 
Ye are out-brillianced in her orbs of blue. 

To see thee is to love thee and to love thee 

Is rapsody delicious. For I know 
Thou seemest more like angel-forms above 
thee. 
Than gentle beings of this world below. 
And I who ever live in thinking of thee. 
Would ruftie not the smoothness of thy 
brow 
By speaking words of love: for thou in 
seeming 
Lookst like a maid of heaven only 
dreaming. 

Thou art too young and know not yet the 
tale. 
Nor would I wake thy pinky ears with 
such. 
For thy soul's chastity hath drawn a veil 
Around thee, which no mortal dares to 
lovich. 
It is enough the fragrance to exale 

Which from thy beauty issueth so much. 
Enough to see thee as a saint apart. 
Enough to know thee as thou really art. 

What to the Christian is his Paradise, 
As the Nirvana of a Brahmin's bliss. 

So I have seen such glory in thy eyes. 
Love asks no like a heaven unto this. 

Hope, Joy, Faith, Fancy, mingle their 
sweet sighs. 
And sighing live, and living sigh to kiss. 

Bright as the plumage of an Eastern bird. 

Sweet as the accents of its singing heard. 

And seeing we are parted, I shall keep 
The idol of my beauty brighter still. 

Like an ideal glory on the steep 
Of that immortal Hellas-circled hill. 

And seeing we are parted, 1 shall weep 
But weep in gladness for the fated will. 

Unwilling to refuse my Vestal-shrine 

The willing incense of Love's feeling fine. 



TITANS. 



Beyond the glory of the days departed, 
I see again a mighty race uprise. 

A Titan hierachy again upstarted. 
Hurling their thunderbolts along the 
skies. 



A giant warfare most sublimely waging. 
As once of old the sons of Terra did; 

Those huge colossi, seemingly presaging 
The Rhodes-Apollo. Cheop's pryamld. 

And once again they battle with the rain- 
ions 
Of pride-throned Tyranny, and kingly 
Hate, 
While far above them on refulgent pin- 
ions 
Soareth an eagle in majestic state. 

And once again the old Hellenic story 
Becomes repeated in the latter age. 

When Liberty in her heroic glory, 
'Gainst Tyranny did mighty battles 
wage. 

The sons of Liberty had then united. 
And like the giants of that fabled world 

They fought, until the Tyrant became 
smited. 
And Liberty's fair banner was unfurled. 

It may be that— for so the seer presages- 
Yet other sons of Freedom will arise. 

And once again those bloody wars of ages. 
Shake the deep thunder from the gloomy 

skies. 

Why should men deem it a prophetic won- 
der. 

And mock the idea of an age so just; 
When all the tyranny that men bow under. 

Is but dislodging their firm-rooted trust. 

There is a Titan-race that reck not sorrow. 
Famine or anguish, torture or despite. 

If they could herald on some coming mor- 
row. 
Fair Liberty and all her glorious Right. 

Brethren forever in a cause eternal. 

Freedom or glory. Liberty or death ! 
And on the azure-heights of Truth super- 
nal, 
Hope views the consequence with bated 
breath. 



A QUONDAM EPISTLE. 

TO A YOUNG LADY GRADUATE. 

Was your teacher as pedantic 
As some teachers often are? 

Or Theosophy as frantic 
As a poet for a star? 

Was she angular or pretrv? 

Stoutly-built or thinly-tall? 
Was she eloquent and witty. 

Or an echo in a hall? 



EXCHAXTMEXT. 



175 



Taught you all the mathematics 
1 suppose, that can be taught; 

And those simple little tactics. 
Without which a woman's nought? 

Spoke about the rights of woman. 

Of which rights they rave so much; 
Told you too that women know men 

As a monster, siich and such ? 

Praised the patience of Griselda? 

Job was quite as patience once. 
Told you too to wed an elder 

Rich and gouty, though a dunce ? 

Schooled your maiden comprehension 

On infinity of space; 
Taught you atomic extension, 

Spoke of every living race? 

Learnt you poetry of motion- 
Next to mine I love it most- 
Filled you Avith the ancient notion 
Of how good is tea and toast ? 

Every science too befitting 
Such compliant ones as you. 

On the art of standing, sitting. 
Playing piano, singing too? 

All the arts of Lady Fashion, 
Most complete and decolette; 

So the lover's gentle passion 
Should be tangled in your net? 

Praising up the hexametre 

As 'tis written nowadays ? 
By St, Paul and by St. Peter. 

It dont quite deserve the praise ! 

Went rapsodic on each hero 
Whom the world considers dead; 

Told ye not to think of Nero, 
When a Titus lived instead ? 

Wondered too of Alexander. 

Or of Ceasar loved to boast. 
And that glorious Commander 

Whom America loves most? 

Ah ! the Wisdom of these teachers. 

It can never be surpassed. 
They who are our college preachers. 

But whose precepts never last. 

Well perhaps a little knovvlege 
They possess, but scarcely more. 

Fitted to adorn a college. 
And to be a learned bore. 

But perhaps I am mistaken; 

Pray forgive me for the fault; 
I am fresh, till I have taken 

Every morn a dose of salt . 



And this morning I forgot it; 

Or to really tell the truth. 
Did I find that I had not it. 

What a woeful case of ruth ! 

Have you been to balls this season ? 

Picnics, parties of that sort? 
On some young man lost your reason. 

Who admired you just for sport ? 

For men are as fickle creatures, 
As our women are sometimes; 

With their vanity of features. 
And their pockets full of rhymes. 

Have you sisters, have you brothers ? 

Do you live in high eclat ? 
Tell me of your tastes— anothers— 

Speak to me of this and that. 

Do you mingle in society? 

Loved and pi'aised by every one. 
Noted for your gentle piety. 

Till you seem a holy nun ? 

Do you pass the day in frolic 
'Midst the valleys and the hills ? 

Never fearing for the cholic. 
Since you pay no doctor's bills. 

Well, Good-bye. I speak in sorrow. 
Though I w^rite to you in rhyme; 

Answer me to-day, to-morrow. 
Answer me when you have time. 



ENCHANTMENT. 

Thy glorious charms do madden me ! 

Thy dazzling eyes, the damask cheeks, thy 
glossy curls, 
I Thy swelling bosom, and the nearls 
j Between thy lips carnation-tinted, 
' Lustruous in all their whiteness, 
j In their ivory splendor, brightness. 
1 Do only hope to sadden me ! 
i 
! Thy glorious beauty thrilleth me ! 

Each radiant charm, each brilliant beam 
I from glowing eyes, 

I That front as calm as cloudless skies: 

Thy fragrant breath intoxicating, 
, AnVl thy countenance of splendor. 

Beautiful, passionate, tender. 
j With adoration filleth me. 

Thy match1es=;ness bedazeth me! 

Thy queenly head, thy swan-like throat, 
' thy rose-bud mouth, 

A Cleopatra of the South 

Thou seemest: gem and blossom girded. 
1 And thy voluptuous form advancing 
1 Pliant, buoyant, and entrancing, 
' More passionately crazeth me. 



176 



AMERICA.— THE POET. 



Thy beauteousnoss inspireth me ! 

Thy witchinf^ looks, thy glowing smiles, 
thy luring charms, 

A Venus lit for Zeus' arms 

Thou seemest: warm and passion-throb- 
bing. 

In thy beauty, splendor, glory, 

Such as Circe in this story, 

With which now Homer fireth me. 



AMERICA. 

America ! thy Freedom's worth. 
Hatu glorified thee since thy birth. 
When first thy banner over earth 
Was fluttered, with its stripes and stars. 
No symbol of thy giant Mars, 
But rather of eternal love: 
And that grand peace which Christ spakt 
of. 

Proudly, beauteously it rears 

Its fluttering form above the years. 

That once were bathed in the tears 

Of Liberty, ere she was free. 

In all her Truth's eternity. 

Thy banner now is heaven blessed, 

By every wind of God caressed. 

Though Slavery, alas, had wept 

When Liberty so blindly slept. 

Yet Freedom's vow was not unkept. 

She woke and bore the bonded form 

Of Slavery above the storm 

That threatened her, and made her free. 

As Freedom's self eternally. 

With Liberty in peace she reigns. 
And memory kindly hid the chains, 
And wiped away the bloody stains 
That once of old she daily spilt. 
And olive wreathed the warrior's hilt. 
While Liberty from shore to shore. 
Proclaimed herself forevermore ! 

From shore to shore one glorious kin 
That shrine fair Liberty within 
Their temple; far from Battle's din. 
While grandly still her banner waves 
That glorifies her martyr braves. 
Who are in their eternal life, 
Beyond the dim surround of strife. 



THE POET. 

The poet roams from land to land, 
From sea to sea forevermore. 

While weaving with a cunning hand 
The web of life's divinest lore. 



He wanders through the purple blooms 
Of sunny climes,. and wave-girt isles; 

Or lingers in the holy glooms 
Of temples and majestic piles. 

He listens to the singing birds 
That flutter in the golden air; 

Interpreting their mellow words 
To chants of love or hymns of prayer. 

A flower blossoms at his feet. 
Unfolding beauty leaf by leaf ; 

He weepeth. saying " It is meet," 
Since Beauty must succumb to grief. 

He is of every faith and creed. 
The heir of every clime and age; 

The symbol of a living deed. 
The glory of a written page. 

Albeit there he wander nought. 
He seeth with a prophet's eyes 

The splendor and effulgence wrought 
Within the realms of Paradise. 

For him each century reveals 
The life that lives withouten breath: 

For him there is no age that steals. 
For him there is no mortal death. 

What is the crown of laurel leaves 
That circlis his transcendent brow. 

To all the Beauty he believes 
Was even then, is even now. 

He dwells in an ideal world, 
Tlie beautiful is his in youth; 

While azure banners are unfurled 
Above him by the hand of Truth. 

He idolizes fiery globes 

That wander in the halls of Night: 
While clinging to the sacred robes 

That gird the Holy One of Light! 

He seeth in a little while. 
With the deep vision of a seer, 

A tragedy in every smile, 
A comedy in every tear. 

The thunders of the battle-field. 

The silence of the heaped up slain, 
Have glory in themselves to yield 

Fit glory for a mighty strain. 

He marvels not at deeds sublime, 
Sublimer ones he can create; 

And knows the deepest wail of Time, 
Is love which then becomes a Hate. 

A thousand deaths a thousand lives, 

He liveth in a living one. 
And yet immortally survives. 

Because of what his life hath done. 



MY SOUL. 



177 



The Universe is as his shrine. 
And there transcendent from above 

Radiant, beautiful, divine. 
His idol is. supernal Love ! 

As flows the crytal of the stream. 
As glows the radiance of the sun. 

So beautiful becomes the dream 
Wherein his mortal web is spun. 

The flowers and the winds bespeak 

Unto him of refuls^ent thinj^s 
In Nature doth he ever seek 

The life that throbs, the soul that sings ! 

And wheresoever he may go 

In deserts calm, in busy mart; 
He wreathes around with Glory's glow 

The eternal temole of his Art. 



MY SOUL. 



It is most meet my soul that we confess 
The inward deeds that deed themseh^es 
to sin. 

And make existence bow beneath the 
stress 
Of that sad tempter striving still within. 

So happily to make our sorrows less, 
So happily some happiness to win, 

in the rich gladness of nis overthrow, 

For still we battle with the olden foe. 

Be like of old when men were cased in 
steel 
And forthwith gloried at the trumpet's 
sound; 
And the proud charges for their master's 
weal 
Swift as a thunderbolt did grandly 
bound. 
And curvet wantonly, as to reveal 
How they delighted in those accents 
wound. 
While lances glittering and falchions blent- 
And shields clashed clearly in the tourna. 
ment. 

For the orient sun that gilds the skies 
With golden rays and beams of purple 
hue. 

And in his glory doth refulgent rise. 
Heralding the bright-eyed Dawn anew. 

When on the virgin buds his radiance lies. 
And on the glittering pearl-drops of the 
dew. 

Hath still arisen for unnumbered years. 

As recking nought of gladness or of tears. 



Though every hour hath its space of Time 
Yet often can a moment be t terne. 

With Fancy straying in a beauteous clime. 
While Truth still lingers ere she doth re- 
turn 

And Hope that is immortfll and sublime. 
Brings sweetest balsams to the pangs that 
burn. 

So every leaf doth gradually unfold. 

And every rosary its beads have told. 

Hast thou not wished it that thou wert un- 
born, 
Because of one brief moment of despair? 
Because awaking on some Summer's morn 
Thou foundest shadows curtaining the 
air? 
And didst not know howe'er we feci fur- 
lorn. 
Some things are ever beautiful and fair. 
Till a sweet breath descending from the 

skies 
Filled thy sad bosom with a glad surprise. 

Because thou yearnest for the unpossessed. 
Finding thy yearning uncompleted still 

And seekiug fjr some dazzling beirg's 
breast 
Where all thy passions were to have 
their fill. 

Alas! poor spirit, in thyself's unrest 
Is but the restless spirit of my will. 

Strayest tnou far? Even to Eden-lands? 

Thy wish as yet no being understands. 

Lo, clasp thy intense purpose by the hilt, 
And pierce through all the deep array of 
strife 
Yet do not stain thy spotless blade with 
guilt. 
As mocking the eternity of life. 
In the fair temple which thy thoughts have 
built. 
The sordid passions even there are rife. 
Its lucid marble but reflects the beam 
Or aspiration of a golden dream. 

It is a fair, fair valley where thou art, 
A beauteous place wherein thou linger- 
est, 
And Fancy yearning for thee, smiles apart. 
Whilst thou art clasping Beauty to thy 
breast. 
Ofond. fond, spirit, striken by the dart 
That once pierced Psyche in her blos- 
som-rest. 
Awake ! thou lover. Since to be awake. 
Is but thyself of sorrow to forsake. 

Should it be best to bathe our te«iples 
warm 
In that dark stream which gives forget- 
f ulness ? 



178 



SERENENESS.-O COLUMBIA. 



So to forget what yet we may perform. 
Of golden deeds which afterwards do 
bless. 
There is a tempest fiercer than the storm. 
A calm that makes the stillest calmness 
less. 
Therefore we know not what is best to do. 
Finding no dew-drops gem our branch of 
rue. 

The world alas ! that was but yesterday, 
Thou canst not And however thou 'may 
seek. 

It is a wonder that we bend and pray, 
And say our prayers maybe overmeek. 

We see the golden sunset pass away 
From the fair summit of youth's fiery 
peak. 

We see each tint that wove air tapestries, 

Become dissolved in the unclouded skies. 

Yet shall the afterward that cometh be 
Radiant in glory, beautiful, serene; 

A blissful choral in eternity. 
And hallowed by supernal Beauty's 
sheen, 

Refulgent tenfold more than suns we see. 
Glowing together yet with worlds be- 
tween. 

And thou the spirit shalt aver of tliis. 

It is the comsummation of all bliss ! 

And thou who hast been aye my angel- 
guide. 
Through the dark path of sorrowful de- 
spair. 
My beautiful, seraphic one beside; 

More beautiful than sun dawns in the air 
Star of my being ! Being Heaven-eyed ! 
Blending soul- brightness in thy features 
fair. 
Take the deep meaning of this spirit-song. 
Which even beauty cannot more prolong. 



SERENENESS. 

I savvr the glory of the sun ascending. 
Like an angel clothed in resplendence 
bright. 
While winging melodists their songs w^ere 
blending. 
Joyously chanting for that dawning 
light. 

Upon thy valleys beautiful, the rivers. 
The brilliant glory of the sun was seen. 

Like glittering ari'ows from Love's golden 
quivers, 
Illumining all Nature with its sheen. 



I saw the glory of the sun descending. 
As softly drooped the star folds of the 
Night; 
And then I knew the dazzling day was 
ending. 
With all its wealth of splendor and of 
light. 

The day at dawning and the day at leav- 
ing 

With deep emotions had I now beheld; 
Yet entering the temple of the Evening, 

A grander feeling from my behis- welled. 

A power both mysterious and holy, 
Which fills the spirit in the calm of 
Night. 

Why is it that we bow to it *nore lowly 
Than to the glory of the day so bright? 

Is it because when all the stars do glisten. 

And all tho air is calm and radiant thus; 
We pray more soulf ully, and as we listen, 

Deem that a God is answering to us? 

And yet the worshipping, imiiiortal spirit 
Doth in the evening most intensely feel. 

A Being though invisible seems near it. 
Who to itself His glory doth reveal. 



O COLUMBIA. 

O Columbia, how I love thee ! 

How my souls throbs thinking of thee. 

Pouring over all the pages 

That contain thy Freedom's story. 

Which through all the coming ages. 

Shall remain thy greatest glory. 

For thy sons sublime endeavor 

Time hath glorified forever. 

O Columbia, how I love thee ! 

And thy flag which waves above thee. 

When i think how thou hast striven 

For the Liberty which crowned thee. 

How heroically given 

Was the life of those around thee. 

Freedom being God's creation, 

Glorities the greatest nation. 

O Columbia, how I love thee ! 

How my soul throbs thinking of thee. 

Thou in thy immortal Beauty, 

In thy grandness, in thy splendor. 

It is but a poet's duty 

All the praises thee I render. 

Seeing strife and woe are ended. 

Peace and Liberty both blended. 



LESBIA.— IDOLATRY.— NATURE. 



179 



O Columbia, how I love thee ! 
And the flag which waves above thee. 
Jjike the rumblings of the thunder 
Rolling through the darkened ether. 
Freedom burst her bonds asunder, 
Freeing all thy sons together. 
And upon thy brow supernal 
Wreathed ''Liberty eternal !' 



LESBIA. 



As cold as boyhood's days long past. 
As cold as Winter's chilling blast; 
As cold as pearls beneath the waves, 
As cold as beings in their graves; 
Art thou ! 

As fair as heaven in the morn. 
When not a cloud obscures the dawn; 
As fair as flowers on their stems. 
When crowned by niany dewy gems. 
Art thou ! 

As bright as moonlight on a stream, 
As bright as angels in a dream; 
As bright as stars within their sphere. 
As bright as crystal flowing clear. 
Art thou ! 

As pure as sapphire in the sea. 
As pure as spirit forms that be; 
As pure as lilies white which grow. 
As pure as undeflled snow. 
Art thou ! 

As young as innocence and truth, 
As young as rose buds in their youth; 
As young as merry birds on wing. 
Who sweetly charm us while they sing. 
Till now ! 



IDOLATRY, 

Cain-like, accursed in thy own degrada- 
tion. 
Scathed by lightnings of a rage from 
high; 
Thunder appalled, blinded by thy own 
nation. 
Thou art the mockery of sublimity. 

Abhored by Reason, foulest in thy glory. 
Bathing thy worship with polluting gore 

May vengeance make thee powerless and 
hoary. 
And future ages know thee nevermore ! 



NATURE. 

I am not weary of life, my weariness 
Arises not from such a deep contempt. 
For 1 am studious, and one whose bosom 

yearns 
Ever for Knowledge (that mysterious lore 
Buried beneath the adamantine weight 
Of Ignorance for many woeful years, 
When nations warred in one stupendous 

cause. 
Monstrous in itself. Impiety ! 
And threw a veil of darkness over earth. 
Inpenetrable and unbanishable; 
Till Wisdom like a holy angel came. 
And with refulgent glory spread 
Eternal knowlege over hearts of men; 
Diffusing such a blissful happiness. 
That life become an object, and as precious. 
Aye, priceless, compared to the richest 

jewel 
That this fair earthly sphere possesses) 
Should not be all indulgent to despair. 
But rouse him from such listless lethargy. 
To look around him on what may be seen; 
Natures glorification and her beauty. 
The eternal loveliness her features bear; 
The immortal stamp of heaven's divinity, 
And her unfading gentleness of charms ! 
These, thess-, should claim his worship and 

his love; 
For in these is the goodness of that God, 
Enthroned above us in His Holiness; 
Yet in our hearts cherished as One Sole 

Being! 
Whose infinite wisdom is but for our sake. 
For us these charms of Nature and their 

joy. 
For us what she produces; for our use 
The bounty of the fields, the yearly yield. 
Diversified over a boundless spread 
Of varying loveliness, for Nature fair 
Is never ciangeless in her glorious charms. 
For here she joys the eyes with even lawn. 
Far-spreading like bright coverlets of green 
And impearled with the dew of evening's 

tears. 
And here stupendously before the sight, 
She tov\ ers a mountain, almost inaccess- 
ible: 
Yet ne'ertheless crowned with the snow of 

ages; 
Like hoary gi nts legended of old, 
VVho on their shoulders did support the 

skies. 
Forming a view of glory and of beatify. 
While far below it, below lofty summits; • 
She garbs with massive forests all its 

roughness; 
Or rolls a stream of dazzling, foaming 

water, 
Adown its rocky sides: a stream volumin- 
ous. 
To soft meander afterward, joy-idly. 
Through the pure confines of the neigh- 

bori)ig valley ! 



180 



A LEAF. 



Past fertile fields and villages upgrowing 

To populous cities; past the populous cities, 

And past like other grandeur to the ocean; 

To the broad boundless ocean's heaving 
vs'aters ! 

Vales, grottoes, glens, and scenery surpass- 
ing 

The famed Arcadia of a poet's vision, 

These Nature shews; and truthfully dis- 
playing 

The gifts confered to her by the Omnipo- 
tent, 

She pleases us with all her lovely features, 

Some incomprehensible though b autiful; 

And some so mighty in their awful gran- 
deur. 

That they alone sublimify our ideas 

Of the Intelligent, and the Alnighty ! 

At such s'ght none grow weary, except 
beings 

Who cannot find enjoyment in such visions; 

Who void of soul and every tender feeling. 

That will upspring within the heaving 
bosom. 

At such beholding of such gracious bless- 
ing. 

Consider time but spent in their observing. 

These scenes please not those who think 
that existence 

Is but a torture or such torture's herald. 

For future punishment in a hereafter. 

O why fear death's destruction, why fear 
dying, 

Or deem that He hath an eternal vengeance. 

For sins and crimes unhoiily committed; 

Who is all goodness to earth's living crea- 
tures. 

Who is forgiving and is more than gentle ? 

Why fear that which becomes a sacred 
blessing. 

When once we are cognizant of its purpose? 

O rather like a w^arrior armed for battle, 

March on the field of Life against thy pas- 
sions; 

And if ye fall in struggling, shall not 
honor 

Still crown thee with an everlasting glory. 

Who fought against the enemies of Nature? 

And though all vainly, still unconquered, 
smitten. 

Nobly and bravely loft behind existence. 



A LEAF. 



A single leaf, but still to me 
What pensive tale it tells: 

Of silent groves, and groves of glee. 
In mountain-guarded dells. 



One yellow leaf, one withered leaf. 

All lonely ou the ground; 
Sad messenger of Autumn's grief. 

By winds besieged around. 



Descended on the wings of air. 
Thou fluttered to my feet; 

As if to plead assistance there. 
For all thy comrades fleet. 



What preludes hast thou whispered soft, 

Within some forest grove; 
And listened too enraptured oft 

When songsters sang of love 



Thou art the symbol of the power. 

And holiness of God; 
As if to tell us hour by hour. 

We are alone of sod. 



Thy page reveals no mystic lore. 
Unfolds no written scroll; 

Yet tells us what we most adore. 
Within our wondering soul ! 



But yet unknown at best art thou. 
From what thy essence springs 

We specolate, and still avow 
Earth's mystery of things. 



Beyond most scienced skill of man. 

Are their infinite cause ; 
We only know God formed the plan, 

And gave to nature laws. 



Those laws unchanged remain to-day. 
As when they first commenced; 

Through wrecksof timeand bloody sway 
And works of man dispensed. 



Why then should some have doubt and 
fear. 

And God on high accuse 
For wrongs or woe; when Nature here 

Hath never known abuse? 



'Tis man himself hath been the cause 

Of all his present woe; 
He knew life's truth, yet spurned its laws 

To blight hisjoy below. 



Tis not too late to recompence 
Our maker for the past; 

Then show to His Omnipotence, 
The good within thou hast ! 



SUMMER NIGHTS.-MEXICO. 



181 



SUMMER NIGHTS. 

These summer nit^hts. these bahiiy nights. 

How beautiful they are; 
When milHon azure-pendant lights, 

Glow radiantly atar. 
And every breath of air is still. 

Yet ambient with perfume; 
For every flower on yonder hill. 

Hath bursted forth in bloom. 

These Summer nights, these lovely nights. 

What peacefulness they bring; 
And flood our breast with calm delights, 

And sooth our sorrowing. 
There's not a breeze to fan the cheek, 

A quietness of love 
Seems reigning. 'Tis a stillness meek 

A hush below, above. 

Not summer nights, not lovely nights, 

Beneath Italias skies. 
Perchance display such beauteous sights 

As these unto our eyes. 
Yon moonlit bay seems clearer too, 

Than Venice's marbled waves; 
Pure water of a deeper hue. 

Yon silent fortress laves. 

What stilly nights, these summer nights. 

How calmly fair they are; 
When all the brilliant gorgeous lights 

Of galaxies afar; 
Each constellation's twinkling glow. 

Each planet as it rolls. 
Finds worship in a breast below. 

Finds worship in our souls ! 

How beauteous are these Summer nights. 

When by her amber glow. 
Bright Cynthia shames the milder lights 

That beam to earth below. 
And every heart and every lip 

As trembling with a bliss. 
By seeming essences to sip 

Of other spheres than this. 

O lovely nights. O summer nights, 

night of beauty rare; 

When pure and radiant-winged spirits 

Seem floating through the air. 
These nights does then the thrilling sense, 

Seem gifted bj- a power 
Or a divine Omnipotence, 

Forever from that hour ! 

O summer nights, O holy nights, 

1 do obtain from thee 

A loy as pure as crysolites. 

Or coral of the sea. 
Thou sheddest through my pensive breast, 

In thousand different beams. 
An angel's bliss, which never blessed 

A mortal but in dreams. 



O lovely nights, still summer nights. 

May I enjoy thee long; 
And bicathe my spirit's pure delights. 

Unto thee forth in song ! 
The odor of the flowers round. 

The beauty of the skies. 
Now seem to form an Eden, found 

Alone in Fancy's eyes. 



MEXICO. 



Cool evening's shadow like a robe 
Of curtained darkness softly falls; 

And slowly, on the slumbering globe. 
From heaven's walls. 

What stillness in the breathless flush 
Of balmy air, and ocean's wave; 

As if this silence and this hush 
Were Nature's grave. 

Calm, motionless, each flower remains. 
And blooming on their slender stems. 

Breathe fragrance sweet; and all the plains 
Display these gems. 

When like a heavenly voice in song, 

I hear the strains of a guitar; 
Whose music sad is sighed along. 

From far, from far ! 

This cypress tree till now hath been 
My canopy; its drooping leaves 

Gives fitting shade and coolest screen. 
For one who grieves. 

But now across the valley low. 

All tremulously sounds the strain; 
From the still bowers of Mexico, 

O'er the plain. 

maid unseen, whose amber voice 

Now makes my wandering besom thrill; 

1 listen to thy music choice. 
From this vale-hill. 

Why should thy woeful song recall 
The glories oftthy country's name; 

AYhen degradation blighted all 
Her ancient fame ! 

No more thy cities' towers stand 
In all their loveliness and pride; 

E'en beauty to thy southern land. 
Is near denied. 

No more the waters of the lake, 
Wh;ch once surrounded Mexico, 

Will listening hills with echo wake. 
By music's flow. 



182 



PASSION POEMS. 



No more thy pendant gardens hear 
The wooing of that ancient race; 

Who paid the price of weakness dear. 
With their disgrace ! 

No more each conquering Azt^c chief 
Will war their foes in furious hate; 

Thej^ fell by one. O what a gi ief, 
Wiiat sudden fate ! 

'Twere useless then to wake the strings 
Of thy guitar, to sing thy song; 

For every strain remembrance brings 
Of thy sad wrong. 

Nor haply shall thy countrymen. 
Retrieve themselves from the disgrace 

Which fell upon thy city then; 
Upon its race ! 

I would not curse the sons of Spain, 
Whose standard was the Holy cross; 

Yet cannot help but weep again 
At thy great loss. 

Thy glory is their Misery, 

Thy greatness is their wretchedness; 
And they who came from o'er the sea. 

They brought you this ! 

What conquerors were these at best, 
AVhose desecration caused thy fall; 

sometimes in my brooding breast, 
I do curse all. 

Then sadly bow my head and shed 
One tear above their nameless grave; 

Q he who then those warriors led. 
Had he been brave ! 

1 cannot see thy face sweet maid, 
Yet at thy song 1 deem arise 

Thick ranks of men, whose flashing blade 
Dazzle the eyes. 

And downward like a thunderbolt. 
Blood maddened all they fiercely ride, 

From Mexico: through all the holt 
Of nature's pride. 

Thy streets seem red with blood again. 
And all become a crimson stream; 

What shrieks are heard, what cries of pain, 
'Twas then no dream ! 

Would thy volcanoe had outpoured 

Its lava's rage to them below^; 
And sepulchred with the Spanish horde. 

E'en Mexico. 

Far better that than now bewail 
The horrors of those days again; 

Or thou recall the gloomy tale 
With thy far strain. 



PASSIOX-POEMS. 



TO- 



The sun looks down on every land. 
And smiles upon the heaving sea; 

Why should I then my heart command. 
Restrain its beating pulse for thee? 

Why should I chide it for the love. 
Which seed-like gives it strength and life; 

And vainly try its worth to prove 
Ry bitterness of rancoring strife? 

Thou art to me more brilliant yet 
'I'han that bright sua the world illumes; 

And not until thy light is set, 

Will my heart sink in endless glooms. 

Until that time an unseen power. 
Though potent in its tender strength, 

Will watch thy beams from hour to hour. 
Draw nearer to their fated length. 

And when the time arrives when thou. 

My sun. will droop beneath the earth; 
My iove its faithful worth to vow. 

Shall mingle with what gave it birth. 



TO- 



Tis true an other shore can claim 
My verses since it gave me birth; 

But'were they coupled with thy name. 
Love soon would su]iersede that earth. 

Lo years could lapse on every word; 

And trembling still T would repeat. 
Until re-echoing mountains heard. 

Without thee life were incomplete. 

Until rhe speeding winds should bear 
The secret I have borne so long; 

And force thy virgin heart to share 
The mesSiige of my burdened song. 

But I refrain for fear the blush 
Of anger would arouse thy cheek; 

And chidingly that love I hush. 
And humble it to ardor meek. 

But though repressed w'ithin my breast. 
At times it doth revive again 

Its passion hopes; and O the test 
Is stronger yet than all its pain ! 



TO- 



I do not boast of having life. 

Since life without thee were in vain; 
Nor do I struggle in its strife. 

Since struggling would but give me pain. 



PASSIOX-POEMS. 



183 



But gentlj- on the sea of Hope, 

1 sail upon a steerless path; 
Nor do I let the present cope. 

With what the future for me hath. 

Ever harboring in my hopeful breast, 
A faint though yet illusive ray; 

Like some lone traveller bt^hest, 
iJy anj;ry storms upon his way. 

With intrepid heart he treads the road. 
Until is reached his destined place; 

So love has reached my soul's abode, 
Nor can thy frowns his steps retrace. 

Nor can thou cower him with thy eyes. 
Though each sharp glance give answer 
nay; 

Until thou answer to his sighs. 
He will with sighs each look repay. 

And Fancy that deceiving maid. 
Will semble each to looks of love; 

So if my wooing were repaid, 
It would but Fancy truthful prove. 



TO- 



Thy voice is like the sweetest lute 
That ever charmed Diana's ear; 

Anil when its blissful strains are mute. 
The joys of life must disappear. 

And then become a barren place. 

A void where nought but griefs abound; 
Until again thy voice will trace 

With gentle words, that lute-like sound. 

A sound that stirs my youthful soul 

To feelings never felt before; 
Enchantments, where I fain would loll 

I\Iy days away forevermore ! 

Come speak again, I never heard 
Such melody from earthly lips; 

Hive a life on every word. 
As does the bee on honey sips. 

Come stjeak again, mellifluous sound. 

As if a thousand bells in air 
Were tinkling, while in languor bound. 

Angelic choirs of music there. 

Or as the lyre when to the wind 
Its strings of harmony are turned; 

Such melody of joy I find 
Within thy voice of love unearned. 



TO- 



the 



The constant heart in time will love. 

With love as strong as when in youth; 
Foi- doubts in youth may falsely prove 

The love which age records in truth. 

Yet let us love while age is young. 
And age will love himself the mor.:-; 

To sing the love that youth once sung. 
When youth's fair prime will long be o'er. 



When youth a tender strain demands. 

Love sometimes harshly tunes 
strings; 
But when 'tis placed in age's hands, 

A calmer melody upsprings. 

But as brands at fi'-.^t ignite the fires. 
Which rife in flames to skies above; 

So age from youth its spark requires. 
Ere it springs forth in warmer love. 

So let us love while age is young. 
And lo^'ing young we'll love when old; 

And youth will help age with a ton;;ue. 
To tell the tale himself once told. 



TO- 



Tis said that sometimes angel forms 
Descend frouj heaven high to give. 

With fragrant breath that ever warms, 
A presage cf wherein they live. 

If so tis thou who haunt my dreams. 

And cools the fever of my brow; 
For she that comes an angel seems. 

And sure an angel seemest thou. 

For something shines so holy-pure, 
Etherial in thv beauteous face; 

That chastest charms of thine before. 
Now seem replete with tenfold grace. 

could eternal sleep consent 

To glad me with such dreams divine, 

1 would relapse and die content; 

For waking no such dreams are mine ! 

TO SYBYL. 

, I need not name, I need not say. 

For whom these burning tears I keep; 
I give no blame nor cast away. 
That love through sorrow forced to keep. 

I do not hate, T could not hate 

My heart will never have the strength. 
To curse what made it once elate. 

Because 'tis proven false at length. 



Tis true that beautv time may fade, I loved thee, as my t/ ars can tell. 

Since stronger things yield to its power; Which fall like ice-drops on my heart; 

But thou canst never change O maid, I love thee yet, alas 1 as well. 

Though years replace the present hour. The passion will not hence depart ! 



184 



A COQUETTE. 



O art can form no fairer charms. 
Than nature deigns to show in you; 

But art is dead, while nature harms 
With thy fair face all lovers true. 

Away, I do not wish to view 
A face so fair and false as thine; 

Why is it nature deigns to shew 
Her darkest sides where brightest shine? 

So hath she in thy form displayed. 
All that can win a lover's eyes; 

So hath she formed as false a maid. 
As ever dwelt beneath the skies! 



TO- 



Like one convicted of a crime. 

in gloomy dungeon doouiod to dwell. 
Has sometimes holy sounds to chime, 

Within his bosom's deeper cell; 

So T whose only crime is love, 
Forwarned to pass in grief my years; 

Have blessed hopes thai from above. 
Descend to still my woeful tears. 

An angel brought the welcome news, 
Whose words hy menial ever rise; 

That scarce can I comparing choose 
Which fittest is to grace the skies. 

But she but brought me hope and cheer. 

If thou canst give reality, 
I thee prefer; for there appear 

All of her lonely charms in thee. 

TO . 

If hearts can know sin(!erest love. 

Affections pure and true; 
Then let my heart its valor prove. 

Since living but for you. 

It may be days, it may be years, 

Kre ends its wocfnl trial; 
Though sweetened by those hopeful tears 

1 weep for you the while. 

Life's ocean like the ocean wide. 

Will soon exorb their flow; 
But thou those tears wilt not deride. 

Which pure atFection show. 

I wonder not fair Imogen, 

Was once considered frail, 
Since man himself both now and then, 

Must women's faith bewail. 



TO- 



But now religion is so mixed. 

So strangely different too; 
And each with different modes effixed, 

We scarce knovv^ which is true. 

Far better then if all like I, 
Who think the world in thee; 

They reared the holy temple high 
To Love's divinity. 



TO- 



There are pearls beneath the ocean. 
There are diamonds in the earth. 

But lover's priceless potion. 
In love alone has birth. 

There are stars that shine at night. 

And a sun that glows at day; 
But Love's transcendent light, 

Can dazzle these away. 

There's a moon whose mellow brightness 

Can tender thoughts impart; 
But Love, thougli frail in lightness. 

Doth pleasure-storm the heart. 

Ah, ye9 true bosom-gladness. 

Can by Love alone be won; 
Or by lips which know no sadness. 

When we press our own thereon ! 

Then give me Love, he is to-day 

Of purest, holiest birth ! 
That dying with ourselves away, 

Immortal lives on earth. 



How different things are from the plan 

Once made by Him divine; 
Then He alone was God of man, 

Men worshipped but his shrine ! 



A« COQUETTE. 

Had you treated me less cruelly, 

I had never called yon frail; 
For I loved you, loved you truly. 

Yet disdain has been my bale! 
Though long days of anguish, sorrow. 

Thoughts of thee were constant still; 
Till 1 found I could not borrow 

Love from such a haughty will. 

All of such in thee were bleiiding, 

Haughter, pride, but beauty too; 
Till when hope had had its ending. 

Truth thy weaker side did shew. 
Charms, which one like thee possessing. 

Had with chastity been bliss; 
Onlv shadowed their own blessing. 

By thy scorn and haughtiness. 

Ah midst all our bosom's yearning. 
Something deeper chides us still; 

Till when Time doth teach us learning. 
We consider it His Will ! 



LOVE'S FAIR DREAM."— CUPID'S TALE. 



185 



While we love tis but the roving 
Of our hearts for happiness; 

If deceived we find the proving. 
Truth id sterner than we guess. 

And there are some fickle creatures, 

Shall 1 number you as such ? 
Who with beautifuUest creatures. 

Use tlieir loveliness too niuch. 
Priding themselves on the beauty, 

Which they dream not time will fade; 
Tin when time performs its duty. 

Truth's stern lesson is displayed. 

Noble men in manly wooing. 

By these kind are cast aside; 
Who think not what they are doing. 

With their beauty's tinsel pride ! 
Till when time's decaying lingers 

Spoils that beauty, they are spurned; 
Ard the heart but little lingers. 

When such lessons true are learned. 



"LOVE'S FAIR DREAM. 

When Love's fair dream shall faded be. 

And time will bring his daj^s of ruth; 
I will look back to think of thee. 

In all thy loveliness and youth. 
And try to wean from this a smile, 

A beam of joy from out the past; 
That sliall those loneliness hours beguile. 

For passion's heart must cold at last. 

Remembering then when every day 

iirought on a purer still delight; 
For now our hearts are fluttering, gay. 

Since both in loving bands unite. 
I cannot rest till I have seen 

Thy features in their loveliness; 
And from this past I then will wean 

A happiness of thought no less- 
Embittered though our life became. 

And seperated us for aye; 
We'd cherish these fond days the same. 

While memory held passing sway. 
'Tis true our bosoms ardor sleeps 

Not yet within the present time; 
But Love alas ! tis seldom keeps. 

Forever true his plighted prime. 

When Love's fair dream shall faded be. 

And hearts with passion cease to burn; 
In thinking of my love for thee. 

Will I not pray it to return. 
And thou, wilt thou forget the love. 

Which was thy joy, thy life in youth ? 
O let us vow by Him above; 

To love as long as life loves trnth! 



CUPID'S TALE. 

Cupid and I one evening went astrolling. 
(First I must say we have been friends 
for long) 
Near where the waves upon the white 
beach rolling. 
Keep echoes wakeful by their lulling 
song 



"Tis strange," he said, "That maids are so 

abusing 

Unto their love by keeping it concealed;" 

"And stranger still," he said, "And most 

amusing. 

That by so doing tis the more revealed." 



'Howl" inquired I, "This fact needs aa ex- 
plaining. 
If tis concealed how can it then be 
shown ! 
'Likeflre when hid," he said, "whose smoke 
remaining. 
To those who know, reveals the truth 
alone." 



" I knew a maid;" said he. " who veiled 
her eyes, 
For fear the sparks of love would linger 
there; 
Yet guileless thing in breathing forth her 
sighs. 
She laid her heart's deception still more 
bare. 



"And he who loved her, love has keenest 
feeling, 
Doubted ly watched the features of this 
maid; 
Hoping his lored one's love would have 
revealing 
For smothered fire at last becomes dis- 
played. 



" Long she concealed it. but at last no lon- 
ger 
Could her young bosom bear the passion 
heat; 
But purified, the flames by patience 
stronger. 
When given to him their joy was doubly 
sweet." 



Twas long since Cupid had thus spoken 

sadly. 

And oft I wondered what his words could 

mean; 

Till happy day. O joy light dawning gladly. 

From my own love did I his moral glean! 



186 



MOTHER. -JESUS, SPARE !— THE BROOK AND BIRD. 



MOTHER. 

O mother if this loving heart 

Which throbs for thee alway. 
Would wantonly sometimes depart. 

And go itself astray; 
Forgive the slightest, frailest thought 

That makes it thus inclined; 
And deem it but a phantom wrought 

Within a bux'dened mind. 

For O there is no dearer tie. 

No purer love than thine; 
That hope and youth could deify 

To something near divine. 
It is like to a master's touch 

Upon the pulsing chords. 
Which ring within our soul so much. 

Like swords when clashing swords. 

'Tis holier than a niched saint 

Within some temple dim; 
'Tis sweeter than the accents faint 

Of Vesoer's chanted tiymn. 
Tis dearer than remembrance sweet, 

'Tis purer than the snow; 
A spotless veil beneath our feet, 

A kiss of God below ! 

Thou art the kindest, piirest guide, 

Wnich faith and youth could ask; 
Forever by our struggling side. 

In Life's enduring task. 
Thy blessings are like stars beyond. 

That shine so purely bright; 
Thy soul our trust forever fond. 

Thy smile our spirit's light. 

O mother if to duty's call 

I scarcely answer give; 
Remember not. forget it all, 

In teaching me to live. 
And then I shall not fear the thorns 

That are upon life's path; 
The gi'ief, the hate, the toil, the scorns, 

That center in the wrath. 

And sheathed in the potent trust 

That Cometh with thy loye, 
My soul shall not degrade to dust. 

Aspiring realms above. 
And guarded by the loving band 

Of radiant thoughts around. 
Together, mother, hand in hand. 

We'll seek His blessed ground. 



JESUS, SPARE ! 

Was it gain or was it loss 

For the ones who did not share 
In the burden of Thy Cross, 
Nor wept tears at Thy despair! 
VVho were there 
Jesus, spare ! 



In Thy agony divine. 

With the groan upon Thy lips. 

Was not still their blessing, Thine, 

For their soul in dark eclipse ! 

Who were there 

Jesus, spare ! 

Spare the ones who mocked Thy pain; 

Be Thy Will commiserate 
As for Marv Magdalene; 
Though she was all Love, not Hate. 
Hear my prayer 
Jesus, spare! 

From Thy bright eternal throne. 
Smile iipon their sinning souls; 
Do not say the good alone 
May achieve immortal goals. 
Who were tiiere 
Jesus, spare ! 

Who can doubt Thy Holy Will 

Hath forgiven them and all 
Who are ever sinning still. 
Like a star those accents fall, 
"Now and then, 
*' Peace to men !" 

Peace and good will unto them, 

Whether friend qr whether foe. 
He who wore the diadem 

Woven both by thorns and woe. 
Hears thy prayci-, 
Christ doth spare ! 



THE BROOK AND BIRD. 

Sweet brook that ever murmureth 
The chant of Life, the hymn of Death, 
With rippling palpitating t)reath. 

Flow on ! 
I scarcelj^ wonder what thou art, 
I see thee like those days depart 
That left a brightness on my heart, 

And now are gone 

Sweet bird that singst a merry song, 
I listen as I wend along, 
Communing midst the forest throng; 

Still smg ! 
Thy melodies are those of triith, 
The lullabies of tenderest ruth; 
W hich still on leaves of fluttering youth 

Around me wing. 

And is it not thy murmurous strain— 
The music of thy sweet refrain- 
That ease the deep and rankling pain 

Of strife ! 
Leaf-hidden in some poplar's nook 
Sing on God's choirister! O brook ! 
Thine is the heart in which I look 

For Truths of Life- 



BLISS.— THE HIGHER LIFE.— LOVE'S TO-MORROW. 



187 



BLISS. 

O how thy silken golden curls 
Now rippling round thy snowy neck, 

O how thy lips' resplendent pearls. 
Alluringly do seem to beck. 

O how thy beauteous eyes of blue. 
With radiance kindling Love divine; 

how thy cheeks of blushing. hue, 

Do tempt this throbbing heart of mine. 

Thy lips apart do breathe of bliss. 
And seem to crave a rapture sweet; 

Like buds that woo a Zephy)'s kiss. 
To make their virgin joy complete. 

And I alas ! can I do less 
Than any bee who honey sips. 

So taste the richdeliciousness 
Upon thy sweet and tempting lips. 

And as thy breast's bewildering charms 
Are but displayed more brightly fair; 

1 clasp thee in my rapturous arms. 
And keep thee madly, gladly there. 

O tell me not of Cupid's bliss. 

When Psyche blessed his radiant thrall; 
for this and this, and this, and this. 

Is Life, is Jjove, is ioy, is all. 



THE HIGHER LIFE, 

In Life there may he cause to weep. 
But ah, the ones unused to keep 
Theij- hearts wilhin the casket Pain, 

Succumb too soon beneath its weight. 
While every link of Sorrow's chain. 

Will torture them to hate, 

Yet every faith and every creed. 
Are symbols of a higher need. 
Whose deep eternal truths must share 

Each minute of our ceaseless strife. 
Alike in gladness and despair. 

They justify this life. 

And as a gentle stream which goes 

Upon its way, and as it flows 

Through all the bright and gloomy ways. 

Still murmurs with a soothing voice; 
So thou through all Life s fickle days. 

Must evermore rejoice. 

Or as a happy bird which sings 
Amidst the constant flutterings 
Upon the light and buoyant air. 

And speeds away as swift as thought; 
So lightly sing away despair. 

As if it burdt ned nought. 



There is a star that leads to God 
And as our weary way we plod. 
That star still shines, and though unseen 

It guides us witli its holy beams. 
A radiance that some only giean 

Amidst iheir gloomiest dreams. 

And some amidst earth's wayward throng, 
Who only live to right the wrong 
Themselves in faith and truth secure— 

Unjustice casts upon the way. 
Have shown us Life can be as pure 

And beautiful as day. 

And wreathed too with blooming flowers 
As fair as those in Eden bowers; 
And fragrant too with incense sweet 

Of a diviner sphere from this. 
With even blossoms neath the feet 

Of those who go amiss. 

"Yea, let the children come to me" 
He said to ihem, He saith to thee. 
Thou simple one, thou sinless one. 

Yet on the very verge of Sin . 
Although the endless toil seem done. 

We must anew begin. 

Begin anew to yearn and strive. 
Until at last we will arrive 
Before the portal of the place 

Where rest is found, where peaci8 is 
blessed. 
And stand before Him face to face 

There to await the rest. 

O if we dedicate this Life 
To only the etherial strife 
The strife of Hope, and Faith, .ind Truth, 

Above the wordly creed of gain; 
We shall not Isick a glorious ruth, 

We shall not meet disdain. 

We shall not find the grief and scorn 
That cometh with the dawning morn, 
That dieth with that gloomy night 

But heralded by living death- 
We shall not fear the torturing blight 

Which Sorrow renc'ereth. 

O live in peace my fellow-men ! 
In such a peace as cometh when 
The sands of Life are rrnning fast 

Lito a f;alm eternity. 
For when the days of Life are past. 

His Judgment comes to thee. 



LOVE'S TO-MORROW. 

Love stood on the threshold of youth. 

Hope wreathed its blossoms around him; 
An angel, whom angels call Truth. 

With garlands of lilies then crowned him. 



188 



ANGUISH.— THE NEW FAITH. 



Love stood on the threshold of Age, 
With thorns round his bi"0vv for hereafter; 

And looking in Life's written page, 
He saw there but scorn and but laughter. 

O Youth and O Age ! ye are sweet 
To those who have never known sorrow: 

But I with the both at my feet, 
Ci-ave Love for his promised to-morrow. 



ANGUISH. 



If the Love a kiss makes sw^eeter 
Cannot be itself completer. 
Then my rapture is complete; 
For I kissed her lips so sweet. 

If the Love which faith makes surer 
Cannot be more tender, purer. 
Then my love is purest now. 
In the fullness of its vow. 

If the Love which truth makes holier 
Cannot bring our gladness lowlier. 
Then my cup of joy is tilled; 
Since our hearts together thrilled. 

If the Love which Grief makes dearer 
Bring us closer, bring us nearer, 
Then my heart is very near 
To the one who is not here. 

O I ask thee Amor, whether 
When our hearts were one together, 
Ye were jealous of the heart 
That ye sundered it apart ? 

Sundered it in twain. But never 
Shall I deem it is forever. 
Somewhere, some place, we will be 
Clasped in Love's eternity ! 



THE NEW FAITH. 



Why should we strive to ope the Future's 
portal. 
To rend the treasures from her mystic 
womb ? 
Whether the soul be mortal or immortal. 
Life's not surrounded by unending gloom. 



And with the glory that such Life can ren- 
der. 
Is not the l^resent worthy of the meed? 
Hope is our vestal garbed in robes of 
splendor. 
Faith is forever Life's eternal creed; 

And with the Present is the Future nearer, 
And with such Future is the Present 
fleet. 
While Love's rekindled lamp is shining 
clearer. 
And Heaven's seraphs chant with voices 
sweet. 

Perhaps some weep because Faith is not 
truer. 
Perhaps some sigh because they are 
apart. 
True, days of sorrow could be brighter, 
fewer, 
But there is gladness for each aching 
heart. 

The moments like the ocean waves are 
flowing 

Into the distance of eternity. 
The tides of Life are ever ebbing, flowing, 

The sands of Life still glisten on the lea. 

The stars of Heaven, splendent ever nightly 
Seem like the censers of some temple 
above; 

So in His temple are there shining brightly 
The consumnatiou of eternal love. 

Earth's flowers also seem the symbol 
saintly 
Of a Supreme Beautitude on high; 
While their sweet perfume breathed 
softly, faintly. 
Intoxicate us by their fragrance nigh. 

Wherever turneth man's enraptured vision 
There all is beautiful that may be viewed 

The glory of the fabled seats Elj^sian, 
Have here a sweet reality renewed. 

This is the Faith whose glory is supernal. 
The only Future while we are alive; 

Forever beautiful, forever vernal. 
And at whose portal we forever strive. 

This is the Faith whose glory is unending. 

Near us, around us, everywhere on earth 

While love, and Faith, and Joy are ever 

blending 

For us their gladness in that newer 

birth. 

The purposes before us and around us 
By this new Faith forever are revealed. 

And who can know if when such Faith had 
crowned us 
The Future's portal may not be unsealed. 



SONG OF THE BLESSED.— TROY.-TO KITTY. 



189 



SONG OF THE BLESSED. 

On the mighty stream of Time 
Are we flowing, ever flowing; 
Whither wending, whither going 
Filling us witlHdoubt; unknowing 

To what clime. 

On its pure celestial tide 
Are we speeding, ever speeding: 
Some their thoughts with fancies feeding, 
Some hope-radiant, some unheeding 

Ought beside, 

To a vast and mystic sea 
Are we nearing, ever nearing; 
Our presentiments of fearing 
God, are swiftly disappearing 

Before thee. 

Onward are we speeding fast 
To those beautiful dominions; 
And we seem on radiant pinions 
Now upborne. Like Icarus' pinions 

In the past. 

VVe have reached the glorious shore 
And an angel band before us 
Mingling in symphonic chorus 
Sing us of the blessings o'er us 

Evermore. 

Ever more among the blessed ! 
Golden bells are gladly pealing; 
Golden harps before us stealing. 
Thrill our souls with blissful feeling 

Unexpressed. 



TROY. 



"O fallen low are Illion's Avails ! 

Great Hector lieth dead. 
And proudly sounds in Priam's halls 

Acchilles victor-tread. 

"Scamander's stream its purple gore 

Is pouring far and wide; 
And they are dead forevermore 

Who crimson hued its tide." 

Fair maidens at their spinning-wheel. 

Thus sing the glorious tale; 
Where neither strength, nor hope, nor zeal. 

Could conquer or prevail. 

They chant ye of the prophecy 

Cassandra had foretold: 
That Hector's form should lowlv lie. 

The boldest of the bold. 



That all the sons of Priam's race, 
Who ventured to the field. 

Should only battle for disgrece. 
And there be forced to yield. 

That all the flowing j'outh of Troy, 
The champions of her pride. 

Should suffer for the wanton joy 
Of Paris and his bride. 

Their hearts be still to war's alarms. 
Their limbs be stifT and cold; 

Their brazen targes, shining anus, 
Within theGrecian's hold. 

And all the blooming maidens fair, 
With locks so golden bright. 

Be portioned to the lustful share 
Of every conqueror's might, 

1 And all her desecrated fanes 
I Become a solitude; 
Her dead upon the troaden plains. 
Be fit for vultures food. 

And all the treasures of her halls. 
The wonder of their lands. 

Be worn in banquet triumphals 
On Gi ecian necks and hands. 



And as I hear this simple song, 

The burden of its strain 
Brings back again the mighty throng 

Upon Scamander's plain. 

O warriors of a glorious age ! 

The giants of its prime. 
Ye battle still on Homer's page 

Heroically sublime. 

While as around the golden flax 

The maidens spin the thread; 
Their white-breasts heave, their hands 
relax, 



Their pitying tears are shed. 



TO KITTY. 



Love hid his jewels fair and bright 

Within thy eyes. 
Transmitting hence the radiant light 

Of Paradise. 
When hope, long shrined in Sorrow's 
porch. 

Beheld their glow. 
She came and lit her flaming torch 

For joy below. 



wo 



HYMN TO THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY.— MOTHER EARTH. 



Love took the jjoblet crowned for him 

With rubies fine; 
And. bade thee quaff its golden rim 

For joj's divine. 
But ah the nectar of thy lips 

Was sweeter far. 
As brighter yet than pearly drips 

Is any star. 

Love stole the roses from the wreath 

Of Venus fair. 
And bade them ever fragrance breathe 

Around thee there. 
He wooed thee with a thousand sighs 

Of pure delight. 
And won thee when the cloudless skies 

Were planet-bright, 



HYMN TO TfIB SPIRIT OF BEAUTY 

Spirit, thou who canst not sever 

From thyself, thyself's creations. 
Unto whom all spheres forever 

Do outpour their jubilations; 
Incorporeally living. 

And essentially eternal, 
Irradiatingly giving 

To all things a bliss supernal. 
Listen ! 

From the glory that encircles 

Thy supremely gifted being. 
To the splendors I'ound the essence 

Of the mighty and All-seeing; 
From the high transcendent visions 

Of a dazzling dream of glory. 
To the beautiful Elysians, 

Whei'e the stars from Heaven's story 
Glisten, 



Comes triumphant anthems pouring 

Forth a symphony of wonder. 
Hymns .iubilant of adoring. 

Preluded by glorious thunder. 
Tones organic, bursting grandly 

From the spheres harmonious; brightly 
Beamijig through the ether blandly. 

In their pure etTulgence nightly 
Shining. 

Thou in whom the exuberant Spirit 

Given to man, through Poesy's portal. 
Sees the Beauty that dwells near it 

As itself, itself immortal. 
Till likewise it purely singeth 

Forth its chantings hymeneal. 
Since thou only to it bringeth 

All of Life's perfect ideal 
Uivining. 



O upon the poet's pages 

Beam thy glorious inspirations ! 
So the numberless unborn ages, 

Comprehend his soul's creations. 
Thou etherially created, 

Beauteously, divinely moulded. 
Spiritually contemplated. 

And within his arms enfolded 
Ever. 

Be his soul sublimely thrilling 

With transcendent faith of beauty. 
And within him all fulfilling. 

All there is of earthly duty. 
Far apart the portal rending 

Of Eternity and Glory; 
Showing thus there is no ending 

Unto this Life's transitory 
Endeavor. 



MOTHER EARTH. 

Let us approach the lap of Earth, our 
Mother, 
The wide-extending Earth, the ever- 
kindly, 
As if we were to greet that radiant Other 
For whom the soul of man still seeketh 
blindly. 

Let us go gently; till her arms hath wound 
us 
In their embraces. And her bosom swell- 
ing, 
Bespeakes the joy she knoweth when she 
found us 
Once more within the portal of her 
dwelling. 

And if to Him our spirit shall be nearer 
Than this frail body, only earthly 
moulded, 
O say not she is cherished none the 
dearer, 
Whithin whose arms that frame must be 
enfolded. 

It was from her fair womb we were created 
Her richest gifts ai-e still our richest 
blessing; 
And to her we turn fondly when once 
sated 
With mysteries beyond our human guess- 
ing, 

O sun, and moon, and stars, forever glow- 
ing ! 
Beam gently on our mother's calmed 
features. 
We to her tenderness are not unknowing. 
Who nurses kindly all her children crea- 
tures. 



THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH.— MARTYRS.— THE FUTURE. 



191 



And to that Being still Supreme above xia, 
Uur spirit shall hymn praises when im- 
mortal; 
For lie hath made the Earth the mother 
of us. 
And she but guides us to His blessed 
portal. 



THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH. 

How balmily breathes from the mouth 
Of the intoxicating South, 

Delicious odors and perfumes; 
As soft and bland 
As in the land 

Of lotus and of tulip-blooms. 

The fairest one of Earth's divan 
Is she. As stately as a swan 

With glorious eyes and raven curls; 
And lips that forth 
Too woo the North. 

Show gleaming rows of dazzling pearls, 

While round her upon radiant wings 
Of beautifuUest colorings. 

And plumages of gorgeous dye, 
A choir of birds 
Trill sweetest words. 

While winging in a go! den sky. 

She lures thee with voluptiioxis charms. 
As Venus did the god of arms. 

Until you linger by her side. 
And plight Love's vow; 
And crown her brow 

With jewels fit f or queenliest bride. 

And then amidst the blossom flowers. 
Of orange boughs, in orange bowers. 

Or 'neath the shade of cooling palm. 
She'll gambol gay 
The livelong day. 

And sing thee lullabies of calm. 

O in the beauteous, radiant South 
There is no youth or beauty's droiith. 

All Nature's wealth is at her feet; 
The golden clime, 
The balmy prime. 

The song of birds forever sweet ! 

The laughing brooks, the melodies 
Of Zephyrus amone: the trees, 

\\'huse glowing fruits entice the eyes. 
With luscious glance. 
That first advance 

Withm her flowering Paradise. 



The butterflies and bees around 
Like fairies on enchanted ground. 

The flutterings of gayer birds; 
And O far more 
Beyond the lore 

Of simple thoughts, of fancy's words. 

O lapped within her warm embrace. 
Her burning kisses on our face. 

Who could not pass this life away 
In dreamy joy: 
Beyond annoy. 

And deem that Life were but a day ? 



MARTYRS. 

How many men are martyrs here 
Of that divinest faith, which clings 

Around the gloomy atmosphere 
Of sufferings? 

And many a grandly gifted soul. 
Hath sallied forth to prophesize 

That Life's eternal, blessed goal. 
Beyond us lies. 

And with a whole heart full of song, 
Outpouring melodies of truth; 

So some could grapple Life's deep wrong 
With stronger ruth. 

And if the apple at thy lips 
Sweet-tasting turn to bitter dust; 

Remember the Apocalypse, 
And learn to trust ! 

To fortify thyself with hope. 
And proudly in thy might arise. 

The Future's grander, brighter scope 
Before thee lies. 

For each that lives a mortal life 
Of Honor, Truth and Faith, and Love, 

Assists a brother in the strife 
To Him above. 



THE FUTURE. 

We read upon the glorious page 
Of Nature, Nature's every age; 

The Present and the Past ! 
The wonderful that yet shall be. 
The dawn of that eternity. 

The everlasting last. 



192 



LONE MOUNTAIN. 



Her mysteries so manifold, 

Some mighty sage shall yet And scrolled 

Upon the book of Time. 
The secrets she so long hath sealed 
Shall then be open and revealed, 

All beautiful, sublime ! 

The harmonies that now unite 
The planets of the infinite. 

Shall then be tmderstood. 
And such a harmony shall roll 
Its symphony on every soul 

Of Freedom's Brotherhood ! 

The self same sound that ever thrills 
The oceans and the little rills. 

The bosom of tiie air; 
Is but an echo of the hymn 
That from the seraph lips doth brim 

In His cathedral there. 

Whose organs' ever pealing tones 
Are heard in all the planet zones. 

In cadences sublime. 
Almighty strains of perfect bliss, 
Rf'sonant in the edifice 

Of His eternal time. 

And thus through all the boundless vast. 
Alike The Present and the Fast, 

The Future that shall be; 
Are wedded in a glorious whole; 
Whose image is within the soul, 

And in Eternity. 

O Poet, thou who echoest 
Such melodies with fervid zest 
In strophes and choral words; 
Fear not that thou siialt be unheard, 
Thy every thought, thy every word. 
Finds echo in thy birds ! 



LONE MOUNTAIN. 

One calm evening I ascended. 

While the stars did brightly shine. 
To the summit of the mountain 

That is marked by cross divine, 

Far below me lay the City 

Of the Dead, as holy still; 
And I felt my heart with pity 

Throb, and flow, and overfill. 

While the drooping-lidded Silence. 

Like a robe around me there, 
Seemed to fill with wantom shadows 

All the chambers of the air. 

Then I deemed I saw a vision 
Far below me. in the pale 

Of the beams that fell and glistened. 
Like a warrior's glistening mail. 



For a radiant band of angels 
Seemed to circle every mound. 

And a band of radiant seraphs 
Did they kneel upon the ground! 

Palms of gold they bore, and garlands 
Of bright flowers in their hands, 

While around them was a halo 
As around enchanted lands. 

They were robed in garments silken. 
Gemmed with jewels richly bright; 

Purely beautifully splendent. 
As fair ministrants of Night. 

While the winds that murmured by me. 
And around the mountain dim. 

Seemed to whisper softly, sweetly. 
This divinely worded hymn. 

"O ye fathers ! O ye mothers! 

That are weeping for the dead; 
Oye sisters, and ye brothers, 

For the gladness that is fled. 

"It is better thus to sorrow 

Treating Faith, and Hope with' scorn? 
Than to think a near to-morrow 

Ye will live again new-born ? 

"For this mortal life when ended 

But partaineth to the frame. 
Dust to dust together blended. 

But the spirit lives the same? 

And this earthly robe and vesture 

Which ye momently let fall. 
Is alone the garment lying 

'Neath the shadow of the pall !" 

So the wind did whisper to me, 

And I felt my heart repeat 
Gladly, buoyantly, the message 

Thusly chanted angel sweet. 

And unto myself I wondered 
If the ones whom we love most. 

May not also have been singing 
'Midst that unessential host. 

Also prayed their graces for me 
For the sins that I have done. 

So that He might adore me, 
He and His Eternal Son. 

Slowly, sadly I descended 
From that holy visioned view; 

While within my heart was blended 
Feelings which did Hope renew: 

And unto myself I whispered. 
With a kind of hopeful pride; 

"It is well that man's great glories 
Have not wholly with liim died." 



TERESA.— HEREAFTER.— FANCIES.— TO KITTY. 



193 



TERESA, 

Thy hair is like the dusky Night 

Tliat crowns the lily pure and white; 

Thy eyes are like tvvin stars that shew 

Through amber clouds and skies of blue. 

Tliy lips are like Aurora's streaks, 

As likewise are thy velvet cheeks. 

Except perchance a softer glow, 

The pink and lilac only know. 

Upon thy neck and smoother brow. 

And like a sea of heaving snow, 

Ho swell the rounded breasts below, 

Such words of winning influence 

You deign sometimes from there dispense; 

Which sound so musically sweet. 

So tender in themselves complete; 

That not the saints who sing above 

Speak softer vowelings of love. 

So languidly the Zephyrs play 

Around their accents borne away; 

So airily they float along. 

Like ocean-shells mysterious song 

Found on the margin of the deep. 

That pleased lull the sence to sleep; 

That one would fain forever hear 

Such melody so pure, so clear. 

Thy eyes so radiantly shine. 

With looks that make thee seem divine. 

They charm me like the crested snake 

A bird within a forest brake: 

Who from his spell cannot awake. 

There is some Beauty which is fit 

Heaven's angels should be robed in it. 

So fair thou art. But ah, how frail. 

Were litter for another tale ! 



HEREAFTER. 

Death kissed Slumbers pallid lip. 

While Hope near by was sleeping; 
Wan Grief smiled at their fellowship. 

While Love he fell aweeping. 

O weep not Love for the kiss of Death ! 

After which none more may waken. 
For Jesus saith when at Nazareth, 

Than in this we are mistaken. 

And Death was never the child of Sin, 
But our saintly guide and leaven; 

By which our spirit may enter in 
The immortal realms of Heaven. 

And there like a flower in perfect bloom, 
Will reside our radiant spirit; 

Breathing around an eternal perfume, 
And withjthe Almighty near it. 

Amidst the beautiful wealth of bliss. 
The refulgence of Love and Glory; 

Ah. surely, surely, such Life as this 
Is eternal, not transitory! 



FANCIES. 

Now that my sweet love is sleeping, 

And lam awake; 
Let some dream reveal me weeping 

For her sake. 

Let some vision come before her 
With my countenance; 

Showing how he doth adore her 
In each glance. 

Let the airy being woo her 

With the accents of 
Some sweet songster. Let him shew her 

How I love. 

Telling her how life is lonely 

Without her to cheer it. 

Telling her my heart beats only 
With her near it. 

Telling her she may awaken 

From her world to this. 

But not till for nie is taken 
One sweet kiss. 

Then upon her lips impress it. 

Pure as kiss can be; 
Till she smile in sleep and bless it 

But for me. 

Go fond soul while she is dreaming. 

Tell her thy intent. 
Tell her what she saw in seeming. 

Is truly meant. 

Go fond soul while she is sleeping. 

To her side. 
Wake her up from Slumbers keeping, 

Love's sweet bride ! 

Bring thy own Love's message to her. 

Tell the Morpheus elf 
Thou hast come thyself to woo her 

For thyself. 



TO KITTY. 

My heart is a flame, and the .ioys I desire 
But set it more fiercely and madly on fire; 
I nurtured a hope which hath crumbled to 

dust, 
I cherished a passion now covered with 

rust. 

I leant on a weed which was shattered in 
twain, 

I clutched at a thorn and it stung me with 
pain; 

I was blind to the rancor that dwelt in thy 
breast, 

I was marble to all but my sorrow's un- 
rest 



194 



WOMEN. 



Like a being whose doom is most awfully 

drear. 
Like a being who lives on the thirst of a 

tear. 
In the desert of life, in the waste of the 

earth, 
So my sorrow with thee had its cankering 

birth. 

Let us part. It is best. Though the part- 
ing be hell; 

It is easily done with a bitter farewell. 

You have sundered the bond, you have 
riven the chain, 

I am free; though my freedom be torturing 
pain. 

Let us part as the lightning that parts 
through a cloud. 

Let us part as the living with those in 
their shroud; 

All the flowers of Eden are withered, de- 
cayed, 

All the blossoms of gladness by grief over- 
weighed. 

Fare-thee-well ! be it so. It is easy to tell. 

Fare-thee-well ! since forever, forever Fare- 
well ! 

O the madness that raves and the passion 
that burns 

In my heai-t. Which yet yearns and et«r- ' 
nally yearns. 

You have tortured me deeply though much 
I adored, 

Thy frailty pierced me much more than a 
sword; 

My faith was a blight and thy beauty a 
curse. 

Thy innocence only what none can re- 
hearse. 

Do you wonder my trust hath been strown 

to the wind ? 
No woman shall ever bring scorn to my 

mind. 
Thou wast in the rose as a cankering worm 
My love was within me its passionate germ. 

On the threshold of manhood I stand in my 

youth, 
My passions, ambitions all centered in 

Truth, 
Thou wast as a ray that had brillianced 

across 
My life's path; but thy blight shall to me be 

no loss. 

As the language of flowers they speak in 

the East, 
So beauteously now have my hopes been 

increased. 
I quaffed from Life's beaker full-brimming 

with woe, 
My faith now ia purer, my heart more aglow 



We people existence with mystical things. 
Though the angel of Mercy eternally sings; 
And what dieth an essence soon re-ani- 

m 1 tes. 
From the perished again an existence 

creates. 

Or to be or be not. Or to live or to die. 
Look, the sunshine is shining, the morning 

is nigh. 
An I the splendor of morn and the glory of 

eve. 
Is the life that I live in; the faith I believe. 

You could not comprehend the spiritual 

creed 
Which ex'steth in life, of which life is the 

seed. 
Far beyond thee and thine is its essence of 

love. 
As the earth is beyond bright Hesperus 

above. 

The etherial Love, the ideal divine; 

The divinity centered in rapture most fine. 

Thou art gross as the weed, thou art coarse 

as the grain. 
And my union with thee had been bitterest 

bane. 

A spirit exists that eternally is 
Incorruptible, throbbing with immortal 

bliss. 
'Tis the soul which life-giving, gives us 

earthly life, 
From the which the frame parts when for 

death it is rife. 

Let us part, keep apart; part forever and 
aye! 

Thou hast ruled long enough, I am done 
with the sway. 
' For the film from my eyes hath been sun- 
dered aside; 

I now live a new lifs. and with that will 
abide. 



WOMEN. 



Women ! Well, God bless the creatures, I 

can nothing make about them; 
Now I love, and then I hate them; first I 

trust, and then I doubt them. 
They are such perpexling beings, that I 

hardly can discover 
Whether they more love a husband, or if 

they more love a lover. 



A BALLAD.-SILENUS. 



195 



With their infinite STigf?estions, pleasures. 

tactics, frailties, fancies. 
From joiir pallid Isabellas, to your rosy 

featured iNancys; 
From your tender-hearted Julias, and your 

rapsodic Deborahs. 
To your fretful, joyous Katies, and your 

dark-eyed yearning Coras. 

Of all lovely wonders living, they are still 
the fairest wonder; 

Either a divine perfection, or a God's en- 
ravelled blunder. 

Of all beauties of creation, still more beau- 
tiful created, 

I'art of man, man's better part, if either 
part be separated. 

Symbol of a higher essence, more spiritual 
transcendent; 

Innocence personified, as pure as radiant 
dew-drops pendant. 

Imaged as a saint or seraph; often mating 
with the devil. 

Now a Vestal, now a Circe in some Bac- 
chanalian revel. 

Eden-like in their conception, a divinity of 

beauty. 
Finding fullness in the mother, she all lov- 

ingness and duty. 
She the angel guiding onward to the 

blessed life's moments fleeting. 
On God's footstool standing ever, giving us 

a golden greeting. 

Women ! Well, God bless the creatures. 
I could never be the critic 

Of their race, whether descended from the 
Aryan or Semitic. 

For however I may scorn them, or what- 
ever I think of them, 

(Do I not confeits my weakness ! I have 
greater cause to love them. 



A BALLAD. 

Upon a bank of silver Thames, 
VVithin an ancient village, dwelt 

Two lovers fair; whose tender claims 
No gi-ief had ever j-et dispelt. 

She was his promised bride, and he 
Her noble promised lord; but now 

The battling knights of Normandy 
Must plight him from his plighted vow. 

Alack ! that ever came the day ! 

For fears appeared with haunting shape. 
And when the lover sailed away. 

Dread son-ow did her bosom drape. 



And in the moaning hours of night. 

She pictured to herself a field. 
And fallen was that form of might. 

And shattered was his casque and shield. 

And broken was his bloody lance. 
And dimmed foi-ever were his eyes; 

While trumpet tones and cries for France, 
Were echoing along the skies. 

While he when restless prancing steeds 
The silence of the night awoke; 

Forgetful of war's glorious deeds. 
With feverish dreams his slumber broke. 

He dreamt another Avooed his maid. 
And she— she joyed to see his form. 

He heard her speak— and what she said 
Had chilled another heart more warm. 

Upstarted he. And with a cry. 
He onward rushed and tore his hair. 

While fitful gusts went moaning by 
Along the dark and icy air. 

He heeded not the sentinel 

Who challenged him aloud. His ears 
Were deaf to all; and so he fell. 

Upon iheir brazen-pointed spears. 

O night of horrid woeful dreams ! 

For there he lay upon the ground. 
While little darts of silver beams 

Seemed entering each gushing wound. 

They called it but a cowards fear. 
Those noble knights of Saxony; 

And Quatfed their cups with boisterous 
cheer. 
As if no one had ceased to be. 

And when to her they told the news. 
She did not weep or even sigh; 

Dried seemed that fount of pearly dews 
Which often springs from beauty's eye, 

But like a rose by summer's heat 
P^irst cheered to life and then to bloom; 

And then to wither slow but sweet, 
She faded to her resting tomb. 

'Twas left for other eyes to weep 
That often heard this mournful tale. 

And consecrated still they keep 
Her bridal garb, his glittering mail. 



SILENUS, 



Pour to all the gods, Silenus, 
Nectar in this goblet golden ! 

Pour to Hebe, Dian, Yenus; 
Every nymph and siren olden. 

Bacchus, we mind not thy laughing. 

When such drink immortal quaffing. 



196 



ONE TRUTH. 



Look you there, glgrantic hoary 
Loometh Titan s I'orm before us ! 

And Athena in her glory. 
Seeming ever to adore us. 

Giant Hercules and Hector, 

Quick Silenus, nectar, nectar ! 

Like a sea of lightning flashes, 

So it flashes and it dances ! 
Like the dazzling ocean dashes 

Forward with its billow-lances, 
So this nectar now appeareth; 
As our burning lips it neareth. 

Fill Silenus, fill forever ! 

Pan they say is dead. Apollo 
With a beautiful endeaver. 

Did tlie mighty shepherd follow. 
Fill and quaff with us. if only 
To disperse the revel lonely. 

Fill and quaff the nectar. This is 
Greater joy than the enchanter 

Offered to the brave Ulysses, 

Who with passion did enplant her. 

Greater joy than he could borrow. 

Who but knew his joy in sorrow. 

Quaff to high Olympos, Hellas, 

To Parnassus, to Arcadia ! 
Gods and Goddesses uray tell us 

Where old Time hath lowly laid ye. 
Nectar, nectar. O Jiilenus ! 
From their gloomy thoughts to wean us. 

Nectar, nectar, O Silenus ! 

For the which our spirit thirsteth. 
Every draught creates a Venus, 

From whose orbs love's passion bursteth. 
Then wilh thrilling rapture clasps us. 
And with Cupid's arrow asps us. 

Reason hence, thou frail commander 

Of soul-ecstacies and blisses ! 
Like the kingly Alexander 

Plighted Thais in love's kisses. 
So I plight each sweetest pleasure 
In this nectar; Hebe's treasure. 

Every nymph and hamadryad. 

Trippingly within the forest 
Gayly beautiful, the Iliad, 

And every thing my soul adorest. 
Do I plight and quaff unsated 
Of tnis nectar, bliss created ! 



Pour to all the Gods, Silenus. 

Nectar in this goblet golden ! 
So alone this drink shall wean us 

From all thoughts but glories olden. 
And our cloudy mind enlighten 
To the truth of Pan and Titan. 



ONE TRUTH. 

Through the many countless years 

Of the Past, and all its truth; 
Not one record now appears 

Of the Universe's youth. 

Was this matter formed of nought ! 

Now so pregnable with life. 
Or created quick as thought ! 

When first Chaos warred in strife. 

Was there an existing seed 

To give life to every world ! 
Or a Maker who decreed 

Through air-space they should be hurled? 

Was Infinity the womb 

From which Nature had its birth ! 
Is Infinity the tomb 

Of this now revolving earth ! 

Did a lapse of million years. 

Ages pass, and then decay: 
To give birth to what appears 

In the glory of a day ? 

Is the Universe of space 

All a mockery to man ! 
For all vainly doth he trace 

Its divine, eternal plan. 

Are the glorifying spheres 

But a festival of light ! 
Which through man's dissolving years. 

Ever shone as purely bright. 

Or are they inhabited 

With a simile life as ours? 
Like fatality of dead. 

Who pass from us with the hours? 

Earth is but a speck to all 

The eternal spheres that roll 
Through the clear, unbounded hall 

Of pure ether's sublime whole. 

O deep miracle of thought? 

Unexplained and all unknown. 
O life-seed, how vainly sought. 

Of world's blossomed forth and blown ! 

This infinity of spare! 

This eternity of Time ! 
This divinity of grace ! 

Is transcendently sublime ! 

Do we not grow weakly frail 

In our intellectual sense. 
When but mystery is bale 

Yes, our Wisdom recompense? 

Do we not grow sadly weak. 
Or imbued with Phyrro-scorn, 

As we ever yearn and seek 
For an object never born ! 



TO ME.— HOPES SHATTERED.— KITTY.— THE ROCKIES. 



197 



Do we not grow madly wise, 

As we further penetrate 
To all Natures mysteries, 

In eterne-progressive state? 

One truth only cloth exist ! 

One pure Truth, not abstract wrought. 
Far beyond the cloud and mist 

Of man's scarce dev^eloped thought. 

Light is as the soul of life ! 

Death is as the age of youth ! 
Love, eternal spirit rife ! 

But what is this glorious Truth ? 

Seek it if you have the sense ! 

Find it if you have the will ! 
This All-power, Omnipotence, 

Oninipresent, divine still. 

M'ghty sciences but teach 
What the faculties may know. 

But this Truth they nerer reach. 
Which eternally is so ! 



TO ME. 



As the dew upon the flower 

Beaming purely to the eye; 
As it shines within a bower 

Having fallen from the sky; 
As the drop within a chalice. 

Crystal contrast to its gold; 
Asa jewel in a palace. 

Spirits only may behold; 
As the spray tear of the fountain. 

Beautiful with all its hues; 
As it trickles down the mountain, 

Through a valley's fair recluse. 
So art thou to me ! 

That which here on earth is dearest. 

And in Heaven dearer still; 
That which Love would have the nearest, 

Ever constant, loving still; 
That which is of pure, the purest. 

And of fairest yet more fair; 
That for which our soul endurest 

Sadness, sorrow, anguish, care; 
That most high among the lowliest. 

Though not high as those above; 
That most beautiful, and holiest 

Thing which mortal hath to love. 
So art thou to me ! 



HOPES SHATTERED. 

The last link is broken 
That made my life thine. 

Thou hast the words spoken 
That shattered the shrine. 



The dross and the gold 
Are now crumbled to one; 

The new and the old 
Love are wasted and gone. 

Like a star in the night 

Glimmers forth from a cloud. 
So thy form is the light 

That my sorrow doth shroud. 

Thou hast the words spoken 
And made my life drear. 

Thou hast my heart broken, 
Take the remnants left here. 



KITTY. 



Day resembles thy pure face. 

Night thy ringled hair; 
Thy winning smiles, so full of grace. 

Are guardian against care. 

Thy charms are like the golden beams 
That gild yon mountain's brow; 

Thy lip"s discourse is like the streams, 
Which sweetly glide below. 



THE ROCKIES. 

I make my way through all the show 
Of mountains overcapped by snow: 
And in between each dark abyss 
I hear the rushing torrents hiss. 
While like the smoke of putting forge. 
The mists curl upwards from the gorge. 

These towering mounts so high ascend. 
Their steep seems scarce to have an end. 
So monstrous and sublimely tall. 
Their pinnacles seem tottering all. 
Yet firm to-day as when they first 
Forth from their gloom of chaos burst ! 

O rocky gates ! the ones who pass 
Thy awingly stupendous mass, 
Can well believe that Nature here 
Did daringly aspire to rear 
A stepping-stone from earth to sky, 
In grandeur and sublimity. 

Yet bj' a word or will of God, 
Thou rose in swiftness from the sod. 
And became the eternal throne 
Of thunder-storms and clouds alone. 
That Winter's all perpetual sign 
Upon thy craggy front should shine. 



198 



MEXICO'S KING. 



Scarred with the war of thousand years 
Thou still art Nature's monarchers. 
Thou sawst the race of 7nan commence, 
And with a terrible eloquence. 
Thou warned him by thy still disdain 
How all his vanity was vain. 

Huge mounts, discriminately pent. 
Dost thou remain Time's monument! 
So man may on thv rocky mould 
The epitahof life behold? 
Ah ! Nature sculptured stones, we spurn 
The lesson which from thee we learn. 

Thou seemest like the silent seal 
Of all that time will not reveal. 
In somber caves, in many a ^len 
There erst reposed the savage men; 
But previous still there dwelt a race, 
Who if themselves left scarcely trace. 

Will ever through thy secret hoard 
Those mystic ages be restored? 
Thy welkins rung with loud rejoice' 
Thy echoes listened for their voice. 
And now no Wisdom can illume 
The deep, impenetrable gloom. 

I leave thy rocky realms behind; 
There is a stupor in my mind, 
A sense of my own littleness. 
That makes me seem myself the less. 
And but for the high spirit born 
Within me, I should sadly mourn. 

Yet God hath not installed in vain, 

Within the intellectual brain. 

The faculty to recognize 

The glory of the earth and skies. 

l^'or through these Him we worship more, 

Himself and all His works adore ! 



MEXICO'S KING. 

When Cortez from the land of Spain 

To Mexico's dominions came. 

And battled, till the thousands slain 

But dj'^ed him in immortal shame. 

To assuage the thirst for gain, 

Wliich raged within his heartless frame. 

Was there no mighty arm to stay 

The ruin following on his way? 

O Montezuma, wretched king ! 

What fell in thy own shameful fall. 

Thou wcrt as rowardly a thing 

As ever man did ruler call. 

Could from such breast the courage spring 

Thy throne invaders to appall? 

Time's crown of dust becomes thee more, 

Than that thy regal brow once wore. 



Thou glorying in a boastful pride, 
('Jould still surrender to these men. 
O die in war, if nought beside! 
Amass thy armies on the plain. 
Let valor's bugle, far and wide. 
Send its inspiring notes. And when 
Thy foes approached, combat them well; 
Instead what shame thy annals tell. 

Well didst thou earn the bitter scorn 
Thy own sad subjects cast on thee. 
Far better thou hadst not been born, 
Than thus to reign so shamefully. 
Till subdued; of all power shorn. 
Through thy own heart's weak frailty. 
Thou wert, though the new world's great 

king. 
Still in thyself an abject thing. 

What thousand vassals thronged thy halls. 
Awaiting but thy kingly voice. 
But all in vain the nation calls. 
Surrender was thy baser choice. 
And from without thy palace-walls 
The foes so numbering few, rejoice. 
That they had cowered a king's pride, 
When courage had changed all beside. 

Thou ruler of a kingdom taught 

Submission to thy subjects; they 

Who worshipped thee in all, save ought 

Where their idolatry held sway. 

Had but thy soul as those been wrought. 

The heroes of Thermopolea ! 

The bravery of one such alone 

Had saved thee and thy jewelled throne. 

Or Ganimozia hadst thou been 
The king. Ye who so nobly died. 
Then Mexico perchance had seen 
A change in battle's wasting tide. 
Ye who botiud down on coals supine, 
Could still thy burning couch deride. 
One who did calmly thus expire 
Had shrunk not at wars fiercer fire. 



But Montezuma dragged ye down. 

Yea, trailed thy glories in the dust; 

And shamed himself. His nrincely crown 

Which fell to the invader's lust. 

Robbed of its lustruons gems was thrown 

To earth; its lowest fall yet just. 

Since he who wore it on his head 

Was now as low, among the dead. 



Thy foes the thunder-men were called. 
Before their armaments of dread 
Thy vassals all became appalled. 
And cowardly in Nature fled. 
But yet behind thy temples, walled. 
Resistance should have held instead 
Their hearts unmoved, tlieir arms as strong 
As when warren a Talscalan throng. 



so NEAR AND YET SO FAR.— LOVE'S BOWER. 



109 



Could a handful of .Spain's basest men 
Berome conquerors of such a land ! 
As degenerated Cortez then, 
With I lie remnants of his baser band, 
Alas! how kings are fallen. When 
They will not e'en raise an armed hand 
To save their minions and their fame. 
As Montezuma's reign of shame. 



SO NEAR AND YET SO FAR. 

So near and vet so far, 
Alas ! those words are true ! 

Since distance comes to mar 
The love twixt me and you. 

So near and yet so far, 
A rolling world between. 

To tell what now we are. 
And what we once have been. 

So near and yet so far. 

I often sadly wonder 
How time's merciless bar 

Could tear our hearts asunder. 

So near and yet so far. 
Thy heart so near to me; 

But like a beaming stai-. 
Through azure thou I see. 

So near and yet so far, 

Those words not vainly prove 
That distance comes to mar 

The happiness of love. 

So near and yet so far. 
But not so far from me. 

Unshaken by time's jar. 
My heart still throbs for thee.! 



LOVES BOWER. 

Love once formed a fragrant bower. 
Where uninterrupted he could stray; 

And planted there each blooming flower 
To lighten and to cheer his way. 

The fairest flowers there were seen, 
Reposing in their dewy shells; 

And waving in their beauteous sheen, 
Responding to the gentle swells. 

Here roses blushed to see the smile 
The sun beamed down upon their face; 

And lilies pale and wan the while. 
Displayed their forms of snowy grace. 



And daisies waking with the morn. 
With silver leaxes and golden crown, 

A I'ising lavvnet did adorn; 
Retiring when the sun went down. 

And myrtle with the foliage fair. 
With mantle of sweet evergreen; 

And often in Love's flowing hair 
Were glossy bands of myrtle seen. 

There was a cool stream murmured by. 
And this calm place— this fairy spot- 
Was where Love often cast a sigh 
Upon the blue forget-me.not. 

Here too Narcissus bending low 
Looked on the water's shining face; 

And saw the ripples onward flow. 
Himself clasped in their pure embrace. 

And hawthorn in a shaded grove 
Revived the soul to quicker fire; 

And when within the clasp of Love 
They formed a scene gods could admire. 

But sweeter far than all the rest. 
The lilac fair was seen to bend; 

Beauteous offering of earth's ci'est, 
Whose coloured leaves such odors'blend. 

Delicate flower, whose various shades 
Harmoniously mingled in one teint; 

Matchless product of Love's glades, 
Whose radiant charms no pen can paint. 

The ivy too, whose creeping bowers 
Formed cool retreats where Love could 
stay; 

And gaze on sun-dials mark the hours, 
And watch the shadows melt away. 

The acacia with her yellow hair. 
The panzy, tulip, and the pink; 

The jasmine, violet, and the fair 
Primrose upon the water's brink. 

The iris with her brilliant hues. 

And fern that formed Love's odorate seat 
Or golden maple damp with dews. 

Or heliotrope with perfume sweet. 

Or amaranth with scarlet leaves 
Twined half around a cypress tree; 

To tell that sorrow oft bereaves 
Our thoughts of immortality. 

All these within Love's garden grew. 
All these Love's hand had planted there 

Which Night fed with her cryttaldew. 
And Day fed with his orientglare. 

'Twas here he passed his lonely hours, 
'Twas here his days and nights were 
spent; 

Yet when he viewed the blending flowers, 
His mind was filled with discontent. 



200 



HYMN ON GOD.-THE NOBLE ELEPHANT. 



As Adatn without peerless Rve 

Found noua;ht in heavenly Eden sweet. 
So without thee my Genevieve, 

Love thought liis bower not complete. 



HYMN ON GOD. 

I firmly do believe in God, 
Why should I not believe in Him ? 

I see him in the glowing sod. 
I see him in the evening dim. 

I see him on the ocean deep, 
1 hear him in the thunder's roll; 

I feel him in the tears I weep. 
I feel him in my inmost soul. 

I see him in the desert wild, 

I see him in the frenzied air: 
I see him in a gentle child. 

Devoid of sin, devoid of care. 

I see him in the sun's bright glare, 
I see him in the moonbeams mild; 

I hear him in the carols clear 

Which often have my heart beguiled. 

1 know that when I calmly sleep 
His angels come. And by my side 

They lovingly their vigil keep. 
Until my eyelids are untied. 

I fear him when T do a wrong, 

I feel him when I tell a lie; 
How bitterly reproaches throng 

Around me in his conscience sigh. 

1 oft at night full pardon ask. 
And something tells me it is given; 

I find it is a joyous task 
To bear life's burden on to heaven. 

If some crime haunt your wretched mind, 

Absolve it in a soulful prayer; 
And though 'lis thrown on empty wind, 

The wind will waft it to his chair. 

Repentant tears will soothe the heart. 
And calm the sorrows of your breast; 

Your faults and sins to him impart 
And peace will be your future guest. 

His home is in the brightest light. 

His seat is in the gloomiest dark; 
His heart is in the hush of night. 

His heart is in the chanting lark. 

His breath is in the budding flowers. 
His sigh is heard among the trees; 

His wings are o'er the highest towers. 
His form is on the broadest seas; 



His brow is as the azure arch; 

His eyes are in the lumid stars; 
His feet are in the battle's march. 

His tears are balm to cure earth's scars. 

His lips are in the bread we eat. 

His smile is on the flowing stream; 
His words are in the crowded sti'cet, 

He is like us, we like him seem. 

He is in all this boundless space. 
And yet by mortal ones not seen ! 

For when man's eyes light on his face 
He will not be but will have been. 



THE NOBLE ELEPHANT. 

The burning rays of a summer sun 
Fell slanting on the battle-field. 

The scene of carnage still went on. 
And brave ones fell who would not 
yield. 

But who amidst the leaden rain 

Stands firm?— a rock inform. 
They speak to him but all in vain. 

He fears no battle's storm. 

He listens for his master's voice. 
And none but him would he obey; 

But now alas! his master lies 
A tribute to that fatal day. 

A lifeless form and cold in death, 
W^hose tones would soothe him never- 
more. 

Upon the ground his feet beneath, 
Forever deaf to battle's roar. 

The elephant disdained to move, 
The standard flies above his head; 

By noble deeds as this we prove 
Our worship for still nobler dead. 

Amidst the battle's din he stood. 
The standard o'er his back was seen; 

Himself though co veered with hunuin blood 
Stood boldly there in loftiest mien. 

And fiercer yet the battle grew. 
And louder raged the din of war; 

And foe met foe as foe he slew. 
To mingle with the stream of gore. 

"They fly. they fly, the enemy fly !" 
Thus roared a chief, thus loud he cried. 

Tis true alas! too true they fly. 

Until they reach the elephant's side. 



MUSIC AT NIGHT. 



201 



But their banner still waA'ed in the air. 
Their eyes themselves they scarce be- 
lieved; 
Yes. proudly did it flutter there, 
"Return us back we have been de- 
ceived .'" 

And back they w« nt to meet the foe, 
Till steel clashed steel and shield clashed 
shield; 

And many a sold er felt the blow 
That a Alahratta's arm could wield. 

Louder and fiercer raged the war. 
The plain was tilled with dead and dying 

Then a voice was heard above the roar, 
"The Mahratta's enemy are flying !" 

The Mahrattas gained the field that day. 

But still the elephant stood there. 
And waited patiently, while they 

Shouted their triumphs to the air. 

With bated breath and head bent low. 
He waiteth for the kind command; 

But striken by a bitter blow. 
His master dyes with blood the sand. 

In vain they beg the beast move on. 
He answered with his fiercest look. 

His master dead he obeyed none. 
Nor would another master brook. 

There dwelt quite many miles away, 
A son of this brave driver dead; 

They sent for this young lad to see 
If he could move the beast instead. 

The youth arrived. With gentle voice. 

And smoothing his rough, shaggy side. 
He spake to him; and soon rejoiced 

To see the beast by him abide. 

The beast followed him with footsteps 
meek 

Clanging his trappings as he went; 
And time alone is left to speak 

Of the assistance on that day he lent. 



MUSIC AT NIGHT. 

Give me mi'sicat night when its cadences 
steal 
On the wings of the breezes impre.ssing 
your heart; 
And grief for a moment attempts to con- 
ceal 
All the gloom of its looks though it can- 
not depart. 



Give me music at night when the bosom 
doth teel 
Like a being from sleeping awaked with 
a start, 
To a real of .ioy, to a living of bliss. 
To a conscious throbbing from pure hap- 
piness. 

Give me music at night when the sound of 

its voice 
Now swelling with passion, now sad- 
dened to woe. 
Fills the bosom with sorrow or makes it 

rejoice, 
'Neath a thrilling delightment we rarely 

know. 
Give me music at night, let its melodies 

choice 
Breath around me a harmony tender in 

flow. 
Till the senses are lulled, and the heart 

finds repose 
In the heaven our earth by such symphony 

knows. 

Give me music at night when the perfum- 
ing flowers 
Are breathing around their deliciousness 

sweet; 
And the dews on the foliages shading the 

bowers 
Are sparkling together a crystalline sheet 
Give me music at night, when unnoticed 

the hours 
Pass from us; pei'chance till then never 

so fleet; 
And unconsciously thought will stray back 

to the time 
Then our hearts were akin to this musical 

chime. 

Give me music at night there is nought can 
exalt 
The mind from itself as this aerial flow; 

When the bright stars of evening beam out 
from the vault 
Of the heavens above us with scintillant 
glow. 

Give me music at night till the pulses will 
halt 
From the wild exultation our bosom will 
know; 

From the madness that thrills, to the pas- 
sion that pains. 

From the glory of joy to the grief that re- 
mains. 

Give me music at night for a pureness of 
thought 
Becomes hallowed within our breast at 
the sound. 
And a vision of ICden transcendently 
wrought. 
Appears evanescently beauteous around. 



202 



SYBYL.— FOR A YOUNG LADY.— DAHLIA.-CELESTINE. 



Give me music at night, tis the elixir 

sought 
To prolong our existence the longer on 

ground; 
For the soul when once quaffing its spirit 

of tone. 
Lives an age of enchantment in moments 

alone. * 



SYBYL. 



?Tad I never beheld thee, thy beauty and 
youth, 

Budding forth in their sweetness and 
graces of truth; 

I had never reproached thee for being so 
frail. 

Nor wept at the mockery of Love's whis- 
pered tale. 

Had I never beheld thee, to suffer the 

pain 
My bosom experienced when panged with 

disdain. 
Had I never so fondly and dearly entwined 
My hopes with thy glances, no fault would 

I And. 

'Neath thy loveliness iickleness ever did 

dwell, 
To encourage the passions thy soul could 

quell; 
'Neath the joy of thy features existed a 

look 
No being of ardor or lover could brook. 

O too fair to be false, yet I suffered thy 

sting ! 
O too fair to be frail, yet what sorrow you 

bring. 
Wherever thy presence hath wakened the 

heart. 
But to break it when knowing alas ! what 

thou art. 



FOR A YOUNG LADY. 

She is like the purest gold 

When purged from earthly dross; 
And earth hath gained a heavenly mould. 

But Heaven shall gain by earth's deep 
loss. 
Her soul outshine? her radiant face. 

Wuere beauty sits enthroned; 
Her winsome smiles of purest grace 

No fairer ever owned. 
Her voice is clear as tinkling bells, 

Steps sprightly as the fawn; 
Upon her cheeks the x'ose bloom dwells. 

In all a golden dawn. 



DAHLIA. 

She culled the flov»ers. 

But one sharp thorn 

That glistened with the dew of morn, 

Among the bowers. 

Her finger pricked; and where she stood 

Slow fell a drop of rosy blood. 

And swift therewith up grew. 

Blushing like winged Love, 

A tender flower; and skies above 

Crowned it with crystal dew. 

A fair, fair rose did" upward loom. 

Hailing the dawn with early bloom. 

Rut one sad day, 

There swiftly came a Zephyr's breath 

That fanned its cheeks; till white as death 

It passed away. 

And when she saw the withered plant. 

Angels were singing her sweet chant. 

For like the flower 

Her blood had given ruby seed. 

Her heart did ever slowly bleed. 

Till in the bower. 

Viewing the plant all withered there. 

Her spirit left this world of eare. 



CELESTINE. 

There is but one fair earth for me 

Where willingly I'd die; 

There is but one futurity. 

And that doth in thee lie. 

There is but one bright sun and moon. 

One dewy eve and fragrant morn; 

Where radiant flowers sweet festoon. 

And trickling rivulets adorn. 

These are when thou art nigh. 

The past is not comoared to this, 

This better, purer, holier bliss. 

Which throbs my heart for thee. 

This biirning flame, from whence it came. 

Now radiast as that lurid darne 

Above yon circling sea. 

This pleasiint balm, this gentle calm. 

Like sounding organ's tuned psalm. 

Or Seraphim's heavenly strain. 

When joined with the angelic choir 

Resplendent from etherial fire. 

In heaven's bright domain. 

Come let us tread bedewed meads, 

Sad-listening to the Dorian reeds 

Which thrill the odorous air. 

Or float upon this murmuring stream. 

Reflecting back the shining glare 

Of Night's transcendent beam. 

Eolian harps with music sweet, 

Now charm the raptured soul's retreat. 

Until the faint, melodious winds, 



TO KITTY.— THOU ART.— THE COMMON LAW. 



203 



Are wafted throuKli perfuming: dells; 

And rising tones, and softer swells. 

Are soothable to dreaming minds. 

Like evening's vesper bells. 

Heard from some Alpine-chapel lone 

Of mossy eovered stone. 

Come Celessine, I see the trance 

Of gladness on thy countenance; 

Lome, gaze not so askance. 

But let me in thy sweet embrace. 

First press thy lips of virgin gi'ace. 



TO KITTY. 

I saw him lowly bend and press 

A kiss upon thy face; 
And heard thee answer each caress 

Whilst clasped in his embrace. 
No stone could have sunk in my breast 

As my sad heart did then; 
My bosom could not bear the rest, 

So sharp the pain. 
And thou art false, when I did deem 

The pure and fair; 
And thou art frail, when thou didst seem 

An angel e'er. 
I cannot frame my lips to curse. 

Or blame thee now; 
Nor would I witk my tears rehearse 

Each uttered vow. 
It is enough for me to kaow 

Just what thou art; 
Tj find the frailest one below. 

The frailest heart. 
And since the fates have willed it so. 

So let us part. 



THOU ART. 

The breathe that breathes within me. 
Breathes but forth thy name; 

The soul that dwells within me. 
Thrills for thee the same. 

The heart I claimed as once my own, 

Is tilled with loving pain; 
O say 'twas thou the seeds hath sown, 

And sown them not in vain. 

The sun which shines above me. 

But reflects back thy face; 
And all the world arou.nd me, 

Competes not with its grace. 

The moon so silvery fair above. 

With crown of lurid glow. 
Doth seem to say that her I love 

Existeth here below. 



The trees which bloom around me. 
And tremble to the breeze. 

Have oft in slumber bound me. 
My passions to appease. 

The morning's golden streaks. 

Are not as bright to me 
As the lustre of thy cheeks. 

When my ej'es look up to thee. 

The flowers fair forever 

Are not as fair as t hou; 
The lily chaste can never 

Be pure as thou art now. 

The fragrant rose can never be. 
What thou art in a breath; 

O tell me that you love me. 
Or life will become death ! 



, THE COMMON LAW. 

The human pride of human hearts 

Has ever brought them woe; 
That vainest pride which but departs 

With all of life below. 
The wealthy look with haughty scorn 

Upon the lowly poor; 
But "Equal dead and equal born." 

The moral tale is sure, 

A cunning bird unnoticed sings 

Upon a fruithful bough; 
Or rxistleth his bright plumed wings 

In gayest pleasure now. 
The high, the low, are both the same 

To such a one as he; 
And yet that songster's tiny frame 

Was willed like ours to be, 

A blushing flower buds and blooms 
Unnoticed and unseen; 

Midst myrtle groves of sweet perfumes. 
Midst balmy shades of green. 

The golden sun with magic pen 
Hath colored its fair leaves; 

And— how unlike the fate of men- 
It lives and never grieves. 

Thou haply art a man possessed 

With faculty divine; 
And scorneth life among the rest. 

Whose station is not thine. 
Thy thoughts do soar above their reach. 

Thou matesi not with them; 
But life hath Charity to teach. 

Which same is glory's hem. 



204 



THE MOON.— GOLDEN GATE.— A SCENE. 



The waysides of our life are not 

Forever beautiful; 
And yet in many a lonely spot 

Grace garlands can we cull. 
Inhabitant!of earth art thou. 

As other mortal men; 
Let the future be thy present now. 

And the future praise the then. 



THE MOON. 

Sail on through cloudless space, O Moon 

But gaze not down on me. 

For fiercer than the swift simoon 

Above the desert-sea. 

Are thoughts within my inmost soul. 

To heights supernal they would rise, 

But onward, O thou planet, roll 

'Neath unascendent, azure skies. 

Move on fair beam, thou spectre pale, 

That on night's bosom loves to sail. 

The oceans on the cold stones break. 

Then ebb again motonously. 

But standing 'neath yoa ragged peak. 

Snow-capped by blurring Winters bleak, 

I gaze askance at thee. 

Shrined midst those stars of living light, 

Garbed in gorgeous sheeny splendoi-. 

Above this sphere I see thee wander, 

Wandering slowly in my sight. 

Bringing back with Memory, 

Thoughts Oblivion, long hath hidden. 

Thoughts which come and,unforbidden. 

Arm in arm with misery. 

Sail on, cold Moon, through thy domain, 

But gaze not onjthis mortal being; 

And ne'er retired from worldly seeing. 

The queen of starry regions reign. 

II. 

Immortal maid, how like a goddess 

Dost thou now seem to me. 

With beams that light the wilderness. 

And sport upon the sea. 

Unswerving in thy nightly course. 

So ravishingly fair; 

You part each cloud with gentle force. 

Enfolding round you there. 

Not clad in shining armor 'now. 

But in celestial raiment; 

And with a crown around thy brow 

Of beans transcendent, ambient. 

Now seen upon the river's face,, 

Beautiyingit by their power; 

Veiling with mellowness and grace 

Each virgin-blooming flower. 

On barren hills thou first did smile 

When earth was yet a wild; 

How many now will gaze awhile 

Upon thy beauty mild. 

Celestial being. Queen of Night, 

With thy ambrosial tresses; 



I joy much more thy lucid light. 

Than that the sun possesses. 

Thy radiance seems as if He were giving 

A look of Heaven's light unto the living. 



GOLDEN GATE. 

Before me is the Golden Gate. 

And glowing like a flery sheen. 

Yet mingling with the sea-weed green. 

The waters kiss the sands elate. 

And then return clothed in foam. 

Casting back showers upon the shore; 

Like dews which from the azure dome 

Do strow at night the flowers o'er. 

And the deep purple of the ocean 

Heaves like the trees at the wind's motion 

Like in the woods here murmurs speak, 
Each wave itself is voluble; 
As on they come with gentle swell. 
And caress the rock's icy cheek. 
And here too is a beauty given. 
Which Nature's image ever wears; 
A mingling of the hues of heaven. 
The ocean's trackless expanse bears. 
And the breezes tune no sweeter strain 
Than upon the chords of the lyrist main. 

E'en its monotony hath still 
A power to soothe, a gentle voice. 
Which makes the musing soul rejoice. 
And the young heart with rapture thrill. 
And the lingering sun when nearly set. 
Leaves no brighter hues on Nature's face 
Than the crimson, green and purple-jet, 
On the ocean's vast and restless space. 
And the stars and moon in heaven's sphere 
At evening are reflected here. 

The Golden Gate of Beauty's land ! 
And is there not an azure way 
That leadeth to the realms of day? 
Far fairer than these regions bland. 
A Golden Gate for immortal souls 
Upon the shores of Paradise; 
Before whose leas the ether rolls. 
Which formeth the infinite skies. 
One a Golden Gate to this glorious place. 
And the other to eternal grace! 



A SCENE. 



Dew-eyed Night, before the day. 
Unfolds her wings and flees away. 
While like harvest's golden sheaf 
Sunbeams shine on every leaf. 
Birds are twittering in the wood, 
Brambled home of Solitude; 
While the purling, pebbly stream, 
In its silver flow doth seem 



LAMENT FOR LELIA.— TO DEATH 



205 



Meditation's vesper dream. 
The musk perfumed blushing rose. 
Rises from her thorned repose. 
Diamond dew ahout her brows. 
Blooms to view her glowing charms, 
Lately nestled in Night's arms; 
Beaming innocent e and guile 
'Neath her pinky hue and smile. 
And the queenly lily gazes, 
Snowy garmented, through the mazes 
Of the thicklj'-perfumed bowers; 
Crystal home or evening showers, 
Stulactiformed on pendent flowers. 
Yellow-leafs are gently waving 
Their consent to Zephyr s craving. 
Then these messengers of love 
Gently fall through every grove, 
Seeking grot of lark and dove. 
Tis upon their warming breast 
That the birds do form their nest; 
Downy ones, upon the crest 
Of some poplar waving tall. 
Or a pine majestical. 
Nowhynieniai songs of peace, 
Labi>rer's chants as toils decrease, 
Sweetly fill the fragrant air. 
Golden from the fiery glare 
Of old Titan's burning wheels. 
Which the crimsoned West • eveals. 
And the farmer's wLetted plow. 
Wipes the dew-beads from the brow 
Of the heated earth below. 
Sun-browned maidens bind the grain. 
Golden garments of the plain. 
Into sheafs, the yearly gain. 
Thus these mellow days are spent. 
Each one joyous each content. 
Till soft Autumn forced to yield 
To aged Winter leaves the field. 
And the hoary monarch then. 
In disdain of earth and men 
Brings his snow-knights from afar. 
Past the pale-eyed Polar star. 
To hold revel, to hold feast. 
In the West and in the East. 
On the beauteous things of earth. 
Which they claim with roars of mirth. 
Far their tents are spreatl and wide. 
On the vale and mountain side; 
With their standard reared below. 
Till the fearless knights of Snuw 
Then to further fields are past. 
And we hear their stormy blast. 
As they disappear Mt last. 
Pealing over mount and plain, 
" We shall soon return again !" 



And closed her eyes, while every lock 

Now rests upon a biovv of rock. 

And stilled the heart that once could beat 

In unison with converse sweet. 

Hend down, ye fiuwers, each crystal tear 

Which now you shed above her bier. 

She wept on thee when absent love 

Conducted to this silent grove. 

And as above your leaves she blent. 

Her tears were mixed with sad lament. 

Bend down again; your life and bloom 

Will not like hers end in the tomb. 

Thou scattered wildly to the air. 

When Winter comes with snowy hair. 

Beneath his spotless mantle laid 

Wilt sleep; until bright Spring arrayed 

In sheeny garb of freshest green. 

With oth r hues of sparkling sheen. 

Revives thee from thy chill domain. 

Till bloom anew adorns the plain. 

Hut she though warmed upon my breast. 

Within lier bier doth coldly rest, 

.\nd did she die? And is she dead ? 

And is her gentle spirit fled ? 

Yes. there she lies, the beauteous mould 

Now lifeless, and as lifeless, cold 

Come weep again, ye v irgin flowers ! 

And let thy tears descend in showers. 

And hush ye birds, be still each strain. 

You but recall her voice again. 

The voice which once could soothe my 

pain. 
And now for which I list in vain. 
And pale the cheeks, and damp the brow, 
Whereon I pressed love's faithiul vow. 
Ana closed the eyis, life's beams once shed 
Away then joy, since Lelias dead. 
Existence too; Come Death i .stead 



LAMENT FOR LELIA. 

Ye flowers hang down each virgin head 
And spill thy tears, for she is dead. 
Yes, cold and pale is that fair form. 
With life and beauty once so warm. 



TO DEATH, 

Vindictive foe and is thy hate 
Not yei assuaged ! Or is it Fate 
Remorseless? or man's destiny. 
The guardian of futurity. 
That unpredestined led the way 
To where our humble cottage lay. 
Had not that young and tender maid 
Thy visage grim with awe dismayed? 
Thou lured her on with tainted breath, 
Scducive smiles it lurked beneath. 
Until she sadly passed away; 
An angel'ssoul, a form of day. 
But unrelenting archer thou. 
Was not thy thirst satiat< d now ? 
No. no. if Pity warmed thy breast. 
Her living form had this confest. 
But he, what h irm or wrong ) ad he 
Done to thy kind, or aught to thee? 

j That thou impassive fixed the dart 
Which drank the life-blood of his heart. 

I The hand that with a parent's grasp 
Had led me on, relaxed its clasp. 



206 MOTHER TO HER CHILD.— BIRTH OF THE ROSE.— THE ROSE. 



two 



The voice whose stern but true advice 
Had warned the way, between the ice 
Cold lips forever dumb 
Reposed. Alas! an endless tomb. 
That manly form of gentle might. 
Lay stark and still before my sight. 
And eyes that beamed paternal love 
Were glassy fixed; no more to rove. 
But this not all my woe imparts. 
For with his death thou wrecked 

hearts. 
Two hearts that through life's roughest 

way 
Had known one throne, one loving sway. 
If sorrow's pangs were felt before. 
Thy ruthless pain was trebly more. 
When he through life the surest guide. 
Was rudely torn from our side. 
Then flow, ye tears, and many flow, 
Thou art the harvest of my woe. 
And when Time reaps this flood of pain, 
Gontentment then may smile again. 
But not till then. O condescend 
To bar the stream that hath no end. 



THE MOTHER TO HER CHILD. 

Lift your eyes to Heaven, child. 
Let your tears in silence flow; 

And with prayers soft and mild. 
Avert Poverty's sad blow. 

He who rules in Heaven above. 

And guides the hearts of those below, 
If thou dost show Him thy true love, 

Will calm the bosom filled with woe. 

Turn your eyes to Heaven, child, 
Bend thy knees for soulful prayer; 

E'en when earth was yet a wild. 
Loud hosannas rent the air. 

And the heart that prays in sorrow. 
Prays to Heaven not in vain; 

Comfort from thy words I borrow. 
Bend thy knees and pray again. 



THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. 

POETIZED. 

They tell us the rose was once a young 
maid. 
Whose life wag as pure as the dew on the 
flowers; 
And that when she died, it was Flora who 
prayed 
She might be changed to a rose and 
placed 'midst her bowers. 



With the help of fair Venus and the 
Graces combined. 
And the deities that over the gardt n pre- 
side; 
Soon the fair plant spread its leaves to the 
wind. 
Over the place where the young nymph 
had died. 

The Zephyrs light blowing, did attending 
appear 
And with a sigh like a clear winding 
stream. 
The damps they dispersed from the soft 
atmosphere. 
So Apollo might bless the young plant 
with his beam. 

Then Bacchus approached, and with rosiest 
wine 
A stream of pure nectar distilled on its 
head; 
Soon the fairleavesdid with bright blushes 
shine. 
Which changed the sweet plant into 
scarlet instead. 

Vertumnus then poured o'er it his choicest 
perfume. 
Until the pure air with the fragrance 
smelt sweet; 
Like a star in the night shining bright 
thi-ough the gloom. 
So shone forth the flower in its beauty 
complete. 

Ponoma has germs on its young branches 
strewed; 
But brightest of all fair Flora was seen 
(The flower seemed then with new vigour 
imbued) 
And with diadem crowned her of flowers 
the queen, 

'Twas Jove too that sent the silver-voiced 
bird. 
To repeat the sweet tale over mountain 
and vale; 
And ever at night is its melody heard. 
For the rose is but praised by the true 
nightingale. 



THE ROSE. 

What beauty is there on this earth to com- 
pare 

With the rose's, its fragrance diffused in 
the air. 

Like a warm maiden's blush when it man 
ties her brow. 

And turneth to crimson her breast's purest 
snow ; 



TO lOLANTHE.— WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN.— PILL A BUMPER. 207 



Like the tint of the sky on a fair summer's 
morn. 

It radiantly sleeps on its glittering thorn. 

Like beauty's best tears when the troubled 
heart grieves. 

Is the glimmer of dew upon its pure leaves 

Like the first glimpse of youth in a fond 
mother's arms. 

It opens its buds and displays all its 
charms. 

O virginal flower, the bloom of thy smile 

Is the Gilead balm of our sorrows awhile. 

And when thy bright beaut\ begins to de- 
cline. 

Though thy leaves become faded they ten- 
derly shine; 

And diffuse to our senses thy balmiest 
breath, 

A last sad remembrance of thy sadder 
death. 



TO TOLA XT HE. 

Receive this pledge, it is a gift 

That long hath thrilled my heart for 
thee; 
The bonded feelings set adrift. 

Love's offering to love's purity. 

Receive this pledge, 'tis such a kiss 
As Adam on Eve's lios first pressed; 

They felt its pure and holy bliss. 
But innocence concealed the rest. 

Two chastened lips that never met 
L'ntil our souls were formed in one; 

Two chastened souls that even yet 
Thrill gladly at what our lips have done 

Receive this pledge, there is a thrill 
Pervades us now not felt before*; 

That throngs our hearts to roam at will. 
And will remain forevermore. 

'Tis for a kiss Leander lost 
His life, his all. to him more dear. 

And Hero thought, 'a kiss the cost 
That bound our souls together here.' 

Preserve this kiss in heart and mind. 
As I the one thy lips returned; 

Had not our souls together joined. 
This kiss, this bliss, had not been earned. 



O that we had never met. 

Never lived to love in vain; 
'Twould be easy to forget 

Thoughts of days that bring no pain. 

But the parting ! Ah the tears 
That I shed for you that night. 

Cannot numbered be by years 
Though a million take their flight. 

Low they laid thee in thy grave. 
Earth thy garment and thy shroud: 

Leaving me the ground to lave. 
With the tears of sorrow'ts cloud. 

Thou couldst still have borne the rest, 
If my love had been left thee; 

But they tore it from thy breast. 
Tore the love that could not be. 

Trampled on my tender flower, 

'Till it wasted and decayed; 
Mortal could not have the power 

To resist v,hen overweigtied. 

So they laid thee in thj* nest. 

Laid thy form but not thy heart; 
That is fondled in my breast, 

Prisoner there till life depart. 

Lo the moments passed since then. 
Have been tenfold more to me; 

Binding in their torturing pen, 
This poor frame that would be free. 

But few hours are between us. 
Something seems to whisper so; 

Then the same cold earth will screen us. 
O'er our frames the flowers grow. 

Hand in hand then clasped together. 

Will our souls unite above; 
Winging lightly through the ether 

In pure ties of lasting love. 



WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN. 

Had my heart been the less true. 

And thy own been false and frail; 
I would not now weep for you. 

Or thy youthful faith bewail. 



FILL A BUMPER AGAIN, 

Fill a bumper again, pass the goblet 
around. 
Drink to Fortune's sweet charms though 
they last but a day; 
Yet what more can await us in Life's 
changing round. 
When Hope rears up proudly what Time 
sweeps away. 

When thejoys of a lifetime are quaffed in 
the cup, 
And our sorrows exorbed in a minutes 
deep draught; 
Who would not fill the bumper and quickly 
drink up. 
Since the wine casts oblivion o'er each 
darkling thought. 



208 



ANNIE.— KITTY.— DAWN OF LIFE. 



Remembrance recalls with what pain 
childhood days. 
That so joyful compare with our bitter 
ones now; 
But the goblet alone with its contents dis- 
plays 
Life in various colors, each richer in 
glow, 

Then let's drink and rekindle the soul's 
dormant Are, 
Let the future bring wee, tis the present 
we woo; 
And the past with the present in time may 
expire. 
For the mind recks not both when sweet 
goblet with you. 



ANNIE. 



O thou in sweet childhood and innocence 
blooming. 
Unknowing, unknown to the sins of this 
earth; 
Hast wakened my heart from its darkness 
and glooming. 
And filled it with feelings of Purity's 
birth- 
The tenderness, beauty and grace of thy 
features. 
Like saints whom we worship is sacred 
to me; 
And thou shouldst be shrined like those 
heavenly creatures. 
And thou like those seraphs as inmiortal 
be. 

O thou in thy childhood of purest affection 
Uncaring, unthinking to what may be 
fall; 
Hast wakened ray mind to a deep retro- 
spection. 
And holde^t my soul in a wonderful 
thrall, 
'Twere worthy the trial to attain such a 
blessing. 
To rear thee in goodness and chastity 
too; 
To keep thee a being beyond human guess- 
ing. 
A virgin— 'tis all that high Heaven could 
do. 

Thou art in thy childhood of artless unsin- 
ning. 
Too young for a maiden, too old for a 
child; 
And may thou arrive at sweet woman's 
beginning, 
A being of pureness, untouched, unde- 
flled. 



A being too holy to dwell on this earth, 

A wingless seraphim of love and delight; 
To live just as pure as thou wert at thy 
birth. 
And die much too sacred to bless our 
poor sight. 



KITTY 



Dear Kitty, mirthful being. 

Thou hast entranced my heart; 
Not by forced smiles of coyness. 

Or wiles of woman's ai't. 
But by the gentle mildness. 

And sweetness of thy face; 
And every fold which seem to mould 

Thj' form in airy grace. 

Sweet Kitty, joyous maiden. 

Whose ever beaming eyes 
Are like the stars of Aidenn, 

Where bliss and rapture lies; 
How graceful is the motion 

Of every step you take; 
You know not the emotion 

Within my breast awake. 

Precious Kitty, shining jewel. 

Midst Beauty's dazzling sture, 
One looking at thy features 

Would love thee evermore. 
Thou mischievous of creatures, 

And Frolic's purest elf; 
I love thy modest virtues, 

Which means 1 love thyself. 



DAWN OF LIFE. 

In the far East Night's ebon curtains 
parted 
By Daylight's hand, were weirdly drawn 
aside. 
And through the folds its rays of sunshine 
darted. 
In mingling hues so dazzlingly descried. 
And the dim hills beneath the speeding 
halo 
Of the grey clouds dissolving far away, 
Rose rudely high, tinged here and there 
with yellow. 
With purple-dark, and green in light ar- 
ray. 

Broadly the sun vested in golden dawning 
Shed his warm beams upon the wa eu- 
ing earth; 
Brightly the dewy lawns welcomed the 
morning:. 
While rustling woods trilled plenteous 
with mirth. 



LIBERTY.— "WHERE THE RIVER."-EXVY'S BITTERNESS. 209 



Clearly the brook o'er greenest mosses pur- 

lintr. 

Lauf?hingly rippled on its flowery way; 

Round pebbly forts or rocks of passage 

whirling. 

Sprinkling its gems of Iris-tinted spray. 

Early in Spring, P^arth's life hath its be- 
ginning. 
Like youth's when scarce arrived at man- 
hood's jtge; 
Eai'ly the worm its silken fibres spinning. 
Silently works within its transient cage. 
But freed from bondage, with its labor fin- 
ish ed. 
On wings of brilliancy it flees away; 
Soman's own work each passing day de- 
minished* 
But brings him nearer to a glorious day. 



LIBERTY, 



Tne glory of that hallowed name 
Is shrined within the temple Fame, 
Near Freedom's chosen son. 
The immortality of all, 
Was gained while answering his call; 
What mighty deeds they done ! 
'I'hat shnll descend to other days 
And claim for them eternal praise. 

Tread ye not here ! The ground you tread 

Is sepulchre for fallen dead, 

Uncottined low they lie. 

They battled, each a giant in strength. 

Their conquered by their might at length. 

Heroic Victory ! 

AVinds, Tempests, here hold sway as then. 

But mouarchs shall not reign again. 

The clash of steel and thunderous roar 
Of arms are ended evermore. 
Peace hath the present crowned, 
A century — the time is brief- 
Since such a glorious belief 
Awok<^ with mighty sound 
The noble sons of Liberty, 
To set their ancient mother free. 

The annals of Our Country tell 
That blessed ti nth we love so well. 
How bravely then they fought. 
The resolute, the weak, the strong. 
Forced by Oppression, cruel wrong, 
Upsi'riing as swift as thought. 
And broke the tyrant-woven chain, 
AVhich fettered them, with right disdain. 



"WHERE THE RIVER." 

Where the murmuring river winds on 
through the vale. 
And reflects by its clearness the leaf- rust- 
ling wood ; 
How sweet then to wander and whisper 
love's tale, 
To a heart where such tale is the first 
understood. 

When the beams of the moon in a silvery 
shower. 
Entwine with the wimples upon the 
stream's face; 
And tint the fair foliage which shadows 
the bovver. 
How sweet then to linger in loving em- 
brace. 

When the cool evening Zephyrs with trem- 
ulous song. 
And whisperings gentle are haunting 
the trees; 
While above shine in splendor the sentinel 
thr< ng. 
Ah ! who the heart's beatings of fervor 
would cease. 

There's no shadow can darken such beau- 
tiful night. 
And no stillness to equel the stillness of 
this; 
There's no clond howsoever appearing in 
sight. 
To gloom drear forebodings of woe over 
bliss. 

Xo, the fii-mament sparkles with stars in 
their sphere. 
And the stream sweetly murmureth ever 
away; 
And the sigh of the Zephyrs fall soft on 
the ear. 
As around this fair valley and copses 
they stray. 

Let us wander then slowly along this 
brook s side. 
Being blessed with one blessing the bless- 
ing of love; 
And repeat, while the ripples its banks 
gently chide. 
The tale but immortal in heaven above. 



ENVY'S BITTERNESS. 

I know well what destroyed her youth. 

Her tender soul, her virgin heart; 
She drank the cup of p isoned truth 

And died thereby. Nay, do not start ! 
I loved her with a love which bore 
Its graven image in my bi-east; 
I I \* orshipped her as we adore 
' The angel forms of saintly blest. 



210 



DELIA.— OCEAN-STORM. 



We had been reared in gentle pride, 

And from our youth together grew; 
Until I came to call her bride, 

She fondly called me husband too. 
But could I thus possess alone, 

A treasure all the world might prize? 
Our worship-shrine was ovei'thrown. 

Its incense scattered to the skies. 

They told her that I loved her not, 

And sne alas ! too much believed; 
They whispered tales which broke the 
heart. 

That doubted not itself deceived. 
And I, whom they had kept aloof 

By smiles from her of icy cheer, 
Would not approach and give her proof 

Of how I cnerished, held her dear. 

They came to me before she died. 

The very ones who ruined her life; 
And told me she had humbled pride. 

Their falsehood pierced me like a knife. 
She had repented at the last. 

And found she loved me but too well; 
They told me she had veiled the past, 

And bade me go to say farewell. 

I went. O how I suffered then ! 

The pale, emaciated form. 
Which could not bloom to health again. 

Lay plighted by that envious storm. 
I writhed neath the agony. 

When I beheld the only one 
Who could have been a joy to me. 

Was death kissed by a pallid sun. 

The truth came out, the bitter truth. 

Sweetened with hopes of future bliss; 
And I spake words of loving ruth. 

And I hushed sigh with sigh and kiss. 
She clung to me as ivy clings 

Of times unto a stronger oak; 
But ended were her sorrowings. 

Her lute of life, her heart was broke. 



I was the last to whom she told 

The inarticulate farewell; 
The last who wept above the mould 

Where Beauty's self had deigned to dwell. 
They clothed her in silken white. 

With whiter lilies bound her hair; 
Then veiled her countenance from sight. 

To hide the lines of sorrow there. 

You seem to ask me why the tears 

Dim not the sternness of my eyes? 
Alas ! that passion-fire of years. 

Now like a srone within me lies. 
Revenge, I thought, revenge on those 

Who wrecked our lives. Revenge is 
sweet ! 
But He hath taught to pardon foes. 

They suffer in their own deceit. 



Their Conscience will remorselessly 

Accuse them with this more than crime; 
They sundered hearts, which lovingly 

Could have entwined for all of time. 
We placed her in her loveliness 

Beneath a cypress' mournful shade; 
And here is all— this golden tress— 

To Say that life knew such a maid. 

O Constancy alone is love ! 

And though alone I always feel 
Her soul of purity above, 

Doth still for me its essence seal. 
And mine is soothed in its pain. 

A calmer hope is breathing there; 
Which telleth me no life is vain. 

However much be its despair. 

'Tis true she withered in her growth 

Yet memory preserves the bloom 
Just budding into joy for both. 

And wreathed round with love's per- 
fume. 
Through lifetime I have ceased to grieve; 

Yet none the less I wonder oft 
How long yet ere I die and leave 

This world for one eterne aloft. 



DELIA. 



If Chance or Fate should shroud the smile 
Which beams upon thy features now. 

Fear not, for they cannot defile 
Thy virgin soul, thy spotless brow. 

If Time should ever wither, wear. 
Thy beauty which now lasting seems. 

Grieve not for we are taught to bear 
The disappointment of youth's dreams. 

If haply sorrow doom thy heart 
To suffer with the deepest pain; 

It should not change thee, for thou art 
Too good to think that life is vain. 

Then let Chance, Fate, Time. Sorrow do 
Their uttermost to thee or thine; 

Thy soul shall be a star to you. 
And lead thee to the shores divine. 



OCEAN-STORM. 

The sunset gleams on the ocean's face 
As upon it waves I look. 
With a beauty that no eye can trace. 
While above the clouds each other chase. 
Through the purple way of the vaulted 

snace. 
Like the ripples of a brook. 



ONE STAR.— FAREWELL. 



211 



No sigB of mortal life is here, 
But snow-winged ships that sail; 
And the winds make melody on the ear. 
As at night whe-i every tuneful sphere 
Rolls on through the star lit ether clear. 
And around Diana pale. 



The sea gull flies with shrillest tones 
Above nie in the sky, 

And the surge below on the ragged stones. 
From the ocean's ceaseless flowing, groans 
Like the Ice-King of the Polar zones. 
When rushing fearful by. 

Now the sun is set, and the clouds assume 
A darker and deeper hue; 
To-night the sky is shrouded in gloom. 
Like the ebon of some cavern-tomb; 
And no towering cliffs are seen to loom, 
And no stars in azure shew. 

Rut the surge with a louder, fiercer roar. 

And a storm increasing might. 

Dashes against the rocky shore. 

With H fury and strength; as if it bore 

A hate unquenchable evermore. 

And thus took revenge at night. 

And the moiintains speak, and waves have 

voice 
Which few can understand; 
And the echoes at the sound rejoice. 
And bear the tones where the eagles poise. 
While the bell-chimes mingle with the 

noise, 
Fi'om the churches on the land. 



How many ships on the sea to-night 

Will sink beneath for aye ! 

For no power can resist the monstrous 

might 
Of the billows raised to a loft.v height. 
Like a mountain with its summit white. 
That will sweep them from thf way. 



No moon the darkness shineth through. 
No stars appear above; 
Tis the densest gloou) and the ebon hue 
Which the skies assume, when the dark 

clouds shew 
Their inky forms neath heaven's blue. 
Like the frown of spurned love. 

Through the Golden Gate, the stormy 

waves 
In heaving vastness roll; 
And around the fort the ocean raves. 
And it rushes in the hollow caves. 
Like a mighty king, who chained, but 

craves 
The freedom of his soul. 



Like an army warring on the plain. 
Like a herd of buffaloes, 
Still rusheth on the fearful main 
And in mockery and cruel disdain. 
It foams at the mouth, like giants in 
Or struggling in death-throes. 



On, 



pain. 



on. heedless still of the woe they 

cause ! 
Rush the waves sublime in form. 
On, on with a strength which will not 

pause. 
Till an answering groan from the shaken 

shores 
Confess the ocean-storm. 



ONE STAR. 

Amidst the flaming host, one star 

I often watch from night to morn; 

Until I seem on wings uuborne. 

Thrilling with joy which nought can mar. 

Until the distance, 'tween us fa-. 

Is lessened. But my breast is torn 

Too soon by truth's derisive scorn. 

But ever man will stlil aspire, 

And in his thoughts attai" success; 

To tread those realms of endlessness. 

As if imbued with immortal flre. 

The quenchless yearning of desire 

For such a blissful state, at last 

Will mock him when its hopes are past. 

In changeless course some planets roll. 

Invisible to mortal sight. 

Their way through all the space of light. 

And ever the immortal soul 

Uncomprehending views the whole. 

And would aloft in spirit flight. 

To ken those worlds so fair and bright. 

Yet overflowing with the dew. 
Which crystal like in sparkling beams 
Of brilliancy is strown in streams 
Of glittering radiance, brightly shew 
The stars above in heaven s blue. 
And irrepressibly we feel 
A passionate joy our senses steal. 



FAREWELL. 

Fare-thee-well ! tis useless weeping. 

Tears cannot redeem the past; 
'Midst our joy we have been reaping 

Weeds of sorrow, withered last. 



212 



GLORIOUS MELODIES.— RAINBOW 



I have loved thee, loved thee trulj', 

Bliss it was to call thee mine; 
Fate hath sundered hearts as cruelly, 

'Though till death they hoped to twine. 

In our bosom is a paining 
Which can nevermore be cured; 

'Tis a sorrow still remaining, 
Evermore to be endured. 

Ah ! I know the Past is stealing 
Like a dream before your eves; 

Yet your soul of passion-feeling, 
Looks upon it and but sighs, 

Fare-thee-well ! we still sball borrow 
From that word a hopeful ray; 

Which shall make us deem to-morrow . 
Can be never like to-daj% 

Love when from the breast departed 
Cannot choose but bid farewell; 

But it leaves us broken hearted. 
With a grief too deep to tell. 



GLORIOUS MELODIES. 

Glorious melodies have echoed o'er all the 

slumbering years, 
Anthemings of joy and gladness, rapsodies 

of hope and tears; 
Passion-tones of passion-hearted poets 

chaining life avsay. 
Soaring higher.than the eagle in the golden 

light of day. 

Mighty tones of mighty Homer, thundei-- 

ing his ep'if. lays. 
For the giant warrior-Grecians of the half 

barbaric days 
And the Mantuan bard renewing his great 

master's melody. 
Sang of frailer-hearted Aenas on the shores 

of Italy. 

Starry-visioned poet Dante, with his 

gloomy-glory soul; 
Hyming of the the eternal suifering or 

beautiflc whole ! 
Piercing far within the darkness of the 

circling deeps of hell. 
Soaring high unto the glory where angelic 

spirits dwell! 

Myriad mellow-soul of ?hakesphere, Or- 
phe\is-one of joy and grief; 

With the tones of Melpomene now or 
Pan's swt-et notes as brief ! 

Singing of great de'-ds of sorrow, chant- 
ing forth clear joyous themes; 

Now as mighty as the ocean, now as mus- 
ical as streams. 



And the beauty and the glory of earth's 
primal Paradise, 

Was a truth of golden splendor before Mil- 
ton's sightless eyes; 

With the blindness of his vision was a 
brightness of his mind. 

Which remaineth still a wonder how sub- 
limely it devined! 

These are of the greatest greater, forming 
an eternal throng; 

The glorious Bards of Harmony, the mas- 
ter minds of song ! 

Whose paeans shall immortally be echoed 
o'er earth. 

Through the continual changes of each 
epoch's older birth. 



RAINBOW. 

Iris bow of light, where wert thou born? 
In the golden palace of the morn. 
Where the sun resides in splendid state; 
Attended by the rosy hours, 
Who ever at his feet elate. 
Make joyous all tne eastern bowers. 
And the dewy freshness of the flowers, 
Attests the sorrows of the night: 
Who ever in her sadness weeps, 
When Phoebus her fair lover sleeps. 
Until her tears, so purely bright, 
Impea -1 the plants; till every leaf 
Bears witness of her bosom's grief. 

Iris bow of light where wert thou born 

If not in the palace of the morn? 

Can it be Endymion and his queen. 

Thy fair etherial parents are? 

When first in youth through sky they 

wended; 
And every bright and glittering star. 
At thy birth, a guest of light, attended. 
No, no, it is rot sol ween. 
For thou in all thy arching sheen 
Dost seem like to a glorious bridge. 
Across the bundlessness of space; 
Connecting cloudy ridge to ridge. 
Where hosts angelical could pace. 

When our Maker said; "Let there be 
light !" 

W^as thine the first refulgence bright. 

That awaked from dark this lovely earth? 

Ere the resplendent orb of day. 

Or Cynthia pale had birth; 

With such bright hues as you do now dis- 
play. 

Dissolving the cloud-mist throng 

Fi'om thy fair path in heaven; 

As beauteously along. 

Thy arching light was driven. 

Ah! did our parents in Eden see thy glow. 

As wondering we all see it now? 



PALACE OF AIR.— ROMANCE. 



213 



PALACE OF AIR. 

T built myself a palace fair 

Amidst the valleys of the air; 

All beautcously towering ther«. 

AV'ith silver dome and walls of gold, 

And flooring of an emerald hue; 

While fountains of sapphire to hold 

An endlef^s stream of showering dew. 

Were numerous around the palace; 

Like an overbrimming chalice. 

And nymphs exquisitively formed. 

To gaze at which the bosom warmed, 

Statuesqually stood admiring all. 

From their polished marble i edestal. 

Jjovelier than the Muses mine; 

Or the Graces thiee divine! 

Around them was a walk of ice; 

And dazzling with rare device. 

The windows of my palace bright. 

Glowed paley 'neath the amber light 

Of various star-lights hung around 

The arbors of my garden-ground. 

And love-lorn spheres made tender tune. 

As enchanted round the I'adiant moon. 

They wandered in ecstatic swoon. 

And here I dreamt from morn to noon. 

From noon to night, from n'ght to day; 

Blissfully passing the hours away. 

I built myself a palace airy. 

Like the fane of some Klysian fairy. 

And within it there was all of art. 

That can intoxicate with joy the heart. 

Its fretted roof looked some light cloud 

Of every hue. The rainbow's tints. 

Were mingled where its arching, bowed. 

Like visions of enchantments. 

And Fancy's pencil imaged there. 

Troops of Cherubim so fair; 

And Seraphim still more entrancing. 

Engaged in heavenly dancing. 

And between them there was one winged 

form, 
Posessing every beauteous charm 
That shape of heaven may posess; 
A face of pure exquisiteness. 
With wings like butterflies. 
And azure sparkling eyes; 
And a crown of golden ringlets flowing 
O'er his shoulders. Like the dawn 
Its sheeny splendor showing. 
Those restless ringlets shone. 
All these were formed by thoughts ideal. 
From a hope that seemed blissfully real; 
And they seemed to float through ether. 
Beautifully radiant together. 
Tremulous like a fluttering feather. 

Had T built this palace anywhere. 
Than in the valleys of the air. 
Perchance it would be standing still. 
But a passionate mind has its own will, 
And a dreaming mind is wilfuller yet. 
Than one which is more passionate. 



So I reared with imaginations thought. 
This splendid palace of the soul; 
And only recked when it was wrought. 
And I saw the beauty of the whole. 
With eyes full of an intense fervor; 
How I could rest me here forever; 
In a languorous, yet conscious bliss. 
Beyond all earthly blessedness! 
And part by part I reared the pile. 
Twasecstacy to gaze awhile 
Upon each pillar rismg high. 
Towering golden in the sky. 
'I'o watch the fast upbudding flowers. 
Blooming in my airy bowers 
And when at last it was completed. 
Oft was I in its bowers seated; 
I cannot tell what bliss I felt. 
When such perfumery I smelt; 
It was life, yet was n t so in seeming. 
Being passed almost in trance or dream- 
ing; 
But such joy for me could not lastlong. 
For sorrow came on me with her throng. 
And alas ! my palace of the air. 
Now lies iu desolation there ! 



ROMANCE. 

O flery-souled Romance, thou jocust king. 
In wondrous regions ever loitering; 
Thou potent ruler of a wide domain, 
.\s far as thought-realms of a frantic brain; 
With Fancy. Pleasure, ever at thy side. 
One thy attendant, one thy lovely bride; 
And mimic spirits. Imagination named. 
Like winged white-doves as thy heralds 

tamed; 
Doth a throne 'neath a greenwood please 

thee best? 
Or one upon a mountain's flowery crest; 
Like to Abracca's castle at Cathay. 
Where sweet Angelica retired away; 
By cruel Rinaldo ever scorned and spurned. 
While for his love she passionately yearned? 
That fane the dazzling whiteness of whose 

Avails, 
Outshone Niagara's torrent as it falls. 
Or would some Druid oak near by a stream. 
Be the blessed canopy of thy life's dream ? 
Acracia's island in a drowsy lake. 
Whose ripples ever round it music make. 
With a symphonious monotony; 
That lulls the senses to calm apathy. 
Or in a cavern crystallized for fairy 
Guarded by that dread Sagitary; 
Wouldst thou repose upon some mossy bed? 
While stalactites around thee lustre shed. 
Shaping fantastic forms of every hue. 
While high above thee hung bright stars of 

dew. 
Or reign in Adamastor's citadel. 
Around whose base the ocean's waters 

swell? 



214 



ROMANCE. 



Or garbed in golden armor on the plaine, 
Woludst thou be peer-king yclept Charle- 

maine? 
Or in the palace of that sorceress, 
Armida called dwell in voluptuousness? 
Amidst enchanted nj'mphian gardens fair, 
Smiled on by Genii of the odorous air. 
Or in the ocean-isle of Avalon, 
Where dwelt of yore Arthiir and Oberon, 
Hold night-communing in some star-lid 

deli. 
With such fair spirits as Ariel ! 
Or on the Himalayah mountains tall. 
Where Demorgogon reared his mystic 

hall. 
With gibbering demons, and black ghouls 

of air. 
Hold incantations by their sulphurous 

glare ? 
Or in that subtearean chamber Domdaniel 
In groves of coral midst the mermaids 

dwell? 
Or wouldst thou rather, like a knight-at- 

arms. 
Bask in the sunshine of a maiden's arms? 
Or carouse merrily in.iovial song. 
Round Arthur's Table Round with lordly 

throng V 
Or find Manoa. wondrous land of gold, 
The Eldorado none did yet behold ! 
Or Nephelococcygia cookoo-town, 
Built on the summit of a cloudy frown? 
Or like Oberon, wed some fairy queen. 
To dance by moonlight on a pearly green. 
Or fly on meteors upon the wind. 
To distant Albin from ihe dazzling Ind? 
Or strew fair odors on the flowery sod, 
Wnen elfins revel in the land of Nod? 
Or o'er gentle hills or clouds of jet. 
Skim on the wondrous horse of Pacolet? 
Or drink of Farizade's fount within 
The sumptuous palaces of Aladdin? 
Or seek in armor bright the Saiigreal, 
Like olden-bold chilvaric Percival? 
Or join the merry feastings, in Sherwood. 
With Little .Tohn and archer Robin Hood? 
Or rescue Ugolino from the tower. 
Where hunger madly holds his soul in 

power? 
Or burn those bloody Bluebeards up alive. 
Who slay ther wives so they again can 

wive? 
Or rouse theheadlessone in Sleepy Hollow? 
Or merry Puck in all his wanderings 

follow? 
He who in Germany was Rubenzahl, 
And yet in England was not so at all. 
Or like Tannhauser, wouldst thou for a 

kiss. 
Lose a maid's love and such love's blessed- 
ness? 
Or pass thy grief away in Zanadu; 
Or sleep like Peter Grauss, for drinking 

dew. 
Full twenty years upon a mountain's brow? 



Such lengthy slumbers would not please 

thee now. 
With mighty giants, dwarf so small in size. 
At most no bigger than a dragon's eyes; 
And fairy eltii.s. radiantly fair. 
With dew-drops sparkling in their silken 

hair; 
With haggard witches hidden in foul caves 
And fiery serpents from volcanic waves; 
And winged hippogrifl^s, enchanters old. 
Tales of ihee Romance are the mostly told 
Of lakes where gentle swans, a lovely, 

train. 
Whose snowy plumes have known no 

darker strain. 
Sail on the bosom of its glassy face; 
With noiseless motion and with arching 

grace. 
Where unseen songsters still forever sing. 
Their voices sweeter than a grotto's spring. 
Like softest music's heavenly murmut ing ! 
These scenes of beauty wholly to enhance. 
Lull the sad senses to a conscious trance, 
Romance, thy realms are wider 'neath thy 

reign 
Than boundless visions of a poet's brain. 
What wondrous monarchy do you possess. 
And filled with all things worthy loveli- 
ness ! 
For thou hast pierced to awful depths 

Cimmerian, 
Or sped along beneath the spheres em- 
pyrean. 
Or trod the icy courts of Boreus' throne. 
Or burning deserts in the torrid zone. 
The flowery Tagus and the mighty Nile, 
Have been thy flowing passages awhile; . 
The classic Cam and the Lethean stream; 
So famed and wondrous in poets theme. 
The Tiber, bounding past eternal Rome; 
And Avon where thou ever hast thy home. 
Nor shall the Rhone and Rhi.ie unnoticed 

pass. 
Where king Romance forever worshiped 

was. 
Nor Mississippi, nor the Amazon; 
Nor winding Hudson, where old tales 

were spun. 
And yet brave king— and yet with all thy 

charms 
One still against thee hath up taken arms. 
And well may Reason rouse thee with 

alarms ! 
However potent is thy mighty will. 
His is more potent and more mighty stilr 
However wondr. us thy regions are. 
His are more wondrous and fair by far. 
Where thy own heralds never dare to 

stray. 
There doth he mostly hold command and 

sway. 
Yet rather would I have thee, worthy 

king. 
Where Halberts mingle and where bright 

shields ring; 



MARC ANTON Y.— TALEMARNE. 



215 



And bronzed swords, and men with flash- 
in}? huice. 
Upon the battle-fleld all gay advance; 
Or fully arinouied in the tournament. 
On deeds chilvaric and of bravery bent ! 



MARC ANTONY. 

Liko the Gods whom he worshipped he 

gloried in fame. 
Like the minions he conquered as low as 

low he became 
For the smile of a queen, for the love of 

an hour. 
What a glory he spurned, what a Hannibal 

power ! 

Had he not been a Roman his fall were 
less base. 

But his greatness hath brought him a 
greater disgrace; 

He had ci.urage of kings, but the weakness 
of man. 

And a will like the slaves of his own Gal- 
lic van. 

E'en Taesar himself had been conquered 
by him. 

But his passions were strongest, his frail- 
ties grim: 

And they led him to shame, 'twas the 
cruelness of fate 

He did grieve for at last but ah ! grieve 
for too late. 

At the head of his heroes he was more 

than brave. 
At the feet of the African less than a slave; 
Cleopatra had chaimed him. Why did he 

not spurn 
Such a wile? For now shame has been 

folly's return. 

Formed to conquer the greatest, he fell at 

the feet 
Of a tyrant who loved him because it was 

meet; 
In her passion for him.shehas levelled him 

low. 
And degi'aded the glories that circled his 

brow. 

What a weeknessof manhood, what van- 
ity, pride! 

In a form which had been otherwise dei- 
fied. 

What frailness of being what childness 
of soul ! 

In a man who allowed all his passions 
discontrol. 



Had he known but himself, had he truly 

cerned. 
That desire which within him for dignity 

yearned; 
He had risen perhaps to a nobler height. 
Or had exqualled e'en Caesar himself in 

his might. 
But he fell ! What a tale for the future to 

read. 
For a women! Alas! twas dishonor in- 
deed; 
For a women, though queen, but whose 

soul was all lust. 
And whose thoughts seemed as low as his 

own lowly dust. 

What glory he knew which his own valor 
made; 

What a glory he had which he lived to de- 
grade ! 

But a purpose more strong, but more stern- 
ness of will. 

And to all he had been Rome's Marc An- 
tony still! 

Now instead what he was gives us sorrow 

to know. 
Yet a heart like his own was too fiery in 

glow; 
So it is, Mature dowers some weak with a 

btrength. 
That brings on them disgrace, degredation 

at length ! ; 



TALEMARNE, 

Gazing upon thy pyramid of skulls, wert 
thou 
A greater ruler or more wretched thing? 
Does such destruction place upon man's 
brow. 
The crown that titles him to be a king ? 
Is then a ruler such by will of might ? 
When floods of blood roll over his do- 
main, 
Shedded by those who murmureth in 
their right. 
And who dispised his despicable reign. 
No, Talemarne, men fall soon from thrones 
It they are built like thine of human bones! 

Before Damascus, standing at its gate, 

Thy glittering armor dazzling in the sun; 
Was it a passion or a ceaseless hate, 
That led thee to gloat o'er what thou 
hadst done? 
Ah ! in the humans that upreared the pile. 
Was but the emblem of thy own dread 
fail; 



216 



JOHN POUNDS.— JOAN OF ARC. 



Time gave thee power to scorn at them 
awhile, 
Yes, to smile mockingly upon them all? 
Knowing there would be recompense at 

last, 
For all th}' bloody and remorseless past. 

Has Time not vendicated what it said ? 
Thy armies filed away to victories, but 
they 
Were powerless without thee. And thy 
tread 
Was over too much carnage. But a day 
Ended thy glory. What a goary one! 
Thy path was through its crimson, and 
this brought 
Upon thyself the I'uin thou hadst done; 

When merciless in bloodiness thou fought 
Subject to thy own hatred. Few will see 
Their passions end but in their misery. 



JOHN POUNDS. 

COBBLER-SCHOOLMASTER. 

(May Heaven do him justice.) 

Good, noble Poimds, whose noble sense 

Seemed gifted by the Providence 

Of higher beings; and whose heart. 

Devoid of selfishness and art. 

Expanded in a glorious wortli, 

To teach humanity on earth; 

Too gifted for his lowly birth. 

He taught devotion, pure and true, 

To him enthroned above the blue 

Of boundless skies. And but his smile 

Recompensed him for zeal awhile. 

Year after year his lonely cot. 

Asked Ignorance's lowly lot 

To come and learn by rote and rule. 

The precepts of his self-formed school. 

The unlettered children learnt to write. 

From one who taught them with delight. 

A little knowledge aptly gained, 

Was not by Povei'ty disdained; 

And many a youth to manhood grown, 

WIio did his goodness live to own. 

Returned to thank the one whose soul 

Seemed passive by a mild control 

Of striving youth: who daily spent 

Their hours in eager studious vent; 

Themselves when tautrht by him content, 

I almost can forget the man, 

In remembering the Samaritan! 

Few like him live to soothe and bless 
The poor one's ignoi^ant wretchedness. 
Few spend their life in humble peace. 
To see their folly's ways decrease. 
And in those youth have noble thought 
Replace their wantoness and sport. 
And Wisdom's rays dispel the fear 
Of ignorance so darkly drear. 



Perchance some genius known to fame, 
Had cause to bless the simple name 
Of honest Pounds; who taught his youth 
The preciousness there is in truth. 
And taught him too to never grieve 
At sorrows which the day might leave. 
Perchance some other, whom the wiles 
Of pleasure drew away from toils. 
Escaped her harms. His precepts given 
Of goodness here for joy in heaven. 
Redeemed him from such wicked path 
And saved him from his Maker's wrath. 

O doubly thanked ! by human love 
And happiness in Him above ! 
Good noble Pounds, his acts indeed 
Of charity become the seed. 
Which scattered at the feet of men 
Upspring within their breasts again. 
And bloom a joy within the waste 
Of bosoms fornied or moulded least 
To sip each sweets, such essence pure. 
Thus with his soul of faith secure. 
In blessing and in joy above; 
God's immo'taiity of love; 
He smoothed the path, the thorny road. 
That leads to Virtue's bright abode. 
And made the poor's existence seem 
A golden and a lovely dream. 
And marie his own life like a day 
Of glories beauty's high display. 



JOAN OF ARC. 

Poor shepherd girl of France viho rose 
from out the peasant low. 

And placed upon her glorious brows the 
martyr's crown of woe; 

Her countrymen discovered late her noble- 
ness of soul. 

And would recall those days of fate be- 
yond their own control; 

The country she did strive to save has 
owned at last the truth. 

And weeps for her, the virgin brave, and 
martyrdom of youth. 

Her faith was placed in one above, and 

this through all i-emained 
The all absorbing, holy love, her tender 

frame sustained; 
Not when the breath of thousand guns was 

swept across her face. 
Did she before her country's sons a step of 

ground retrace; 
Not when the gleam of thousand swords 

reflected in the air. 
Did she before the foeman hordes seem 

faltering in dispair. 



THAT BEAUTIFUL SONG. 



217 



She led the soldiers toachieve heroic deeds 
of war. 

And caused her country's foes to grieve 
who came from Albiii's shore; 

She led the men to Victory, chilvarous in 
their strength. 

Yet had the prophet's eye to see her own 
sad fate at length; 

She shamed the Knglish at Patay, and 
Troyes by coup-de-main. 

Was placed beneath her gentle sway, be- 
neath her kindly reign. 

But then there came an hour at last which 
brought her bitter grief. 

The glories of the field were past by treach- 
ery's belief; 

They doomed her to be buint alive! what 
sentence did they make 

For one vvho did for Freeiloms strive, w^ho 
suffered for their sake. 

Their baseness deemed ttiis fitting doom 
for one they thought no less— 

With all her innocent e and bloom— a 
maiden sorceress 



But when the flames aronnd her glared, 
and every tiery breath 

Displayed her with her bosom bared, un- 
conscious of their de th; 

Then stony hearts began to feel that they 
had done her wrong. 

A deed which Time could net conceal from 
History and Song; 

And many lips then murmured faint, "How 
bravely she dies ! 

Can any one but purest saint meet death 
with calmest eves ?" 



Her m-Hrtyrdom is now the crown that 

glorifies her dust. 
Her country all to late doth own her pen- 
alty unjust; 
But she disdriinedto beg away the sentence 

of the few. 
She only did to Jesus pray; for Him above 

to shew- 
More mercy than her countrymen. And 

in the glaring roll 
Of flames there winged to heaven then a 
virgin martyr's soul ! 



THAT BP:AUTIFUL SONG. 

I once heard a sweet song in my childhood 
When the heart is too youthful for woe; 

And 1 heard it within a fair wildwood. 
That skirted the bright river Po, 



But since then I have crossed o'er the 
ocean. 
Ah ! how distant from this is yon shore; 
Though my heart thrills with passionate 
emotion. 
As I think of that song sung of yore. 
Of that beautiful song sung of yore! 

Every child finds enjoyment in playing. 

But I ditt'ered from many a child; 
For to me joy alone was in straying 

Over mountains andjsienei j- wild. 
And one day when with wild flowers laden 

I had gathered while wandering along; 
I first heard a most innocent maiden. 

Singing sweetly this beautiful song. 
This beautiful song sung of yore ! 

I am gazing far into the embers 

Of afire that is dying and low; 
But my soul still, though sadly, remembers 

The svveet tune of that song long ago. 
And it told about one who departed 

From another to cross e'er the main; 
And it told of this maid broken hearted, 

For the lover who came not again. 

Ah how sad was that beautiful song ! 

And it told of how far he had wandered. 

With a bitterness without recompense; 
For to love, and from her to be sundered. 

Whom we love with a fervor intense: 
Is a woe that scorns all other feeling. 

Is a pain more than mortal can bear; 
Is a sorrow that knows no revealing. 

Is a grief deeper still than despair. 
So said this sad song sung of yore ! 

And it told how- her bosom still yearning. 

For the one who had gone in the past; 
Watched through years for his form, others 
spurning. 
Till her heart became broken at last. 
Of his fate nought was ever discovered. 
In what climes or what countries he 
strayed; 
But he parted from her his beloved. 
From his cherished and t;oo trusting 
maid. 
So said this sad song sung of yore ! 

And I stood, though my eyes knew not 
seeing, 
Like a stone with those flowers in my 
arms; 
While I listed that innocent being 

Singingclearly. Howmusichath charms! 
And I never as in that dim wildwood 

Heard one singing so sweetly; twas sweet 
For I still hear the echoes of childhood. 
That beautiful ballad repeat. 

That sad and most plaintive of songs! 



218 



BE MINE.— TO DIE.-FOR MAN'S GOOD. 



From my country in youth I departed, 

Tnouja:h for her and her beauties I yearn; 
And 1 wander on sad. sorrovv-liearted, 

Since a fate doth foi-bid me return. 
When in youth we were dear to each other 

Dearer still if we meet not again; 
She may deem that I cherish another. 

But the thought gave me bitter pain, 
O how true was that beautiful song! 

The shadows of night descend slowly; 

As o'er the rugged Alps that eve; 
And a feeling comes o'er nie holy. 

Till I cannot but help think and grieve. 
Now with blossoms of hope am I laden. 

Which through life I have gathered 
along; 
And again some spiritual maiden, 

Seemeth singing that beautiful song. 
That beautiful song sung of yore ? 



BE MINE. 



If Love hath power to soothe the heart; 

O sooth thou mine! 
I care not, reck not, what thou art; 

So thou be mine ! 
Its dieariest sting may woe impart; 

So thou be mine! 

If joy hath power to banish grief; 

Then conquer mine! 
Though life when passed in joy seen 
brief; 

Yet he thou mine ! 
If thou canst give to woe relief; 

Give balm to mine ! 

If bliss hath power to conquer pain; 

Then conquer mine ! 
If bliss be love itself again; 

O be thou mine! 
Thee ever will my breast retain. 

As one divine ! 

If ecstacy doth dwell beloAv; 

Be thou Then mine ! 
Thy heart as chaste as is the snow; 

O be that mine ! 
Let thine and mine together go. 

To Cupid's shrine ! 

Through all, love, joy, bliss, ecstacy; 

Still be thou mine ! 
Through all, whatever you may be, 

Obe thou mine! 
There is nought such on earth for me. 

Till thou be mine ! 



TO DIE. 

O to die yet not be dead. 

Save to earthly life and dread, 

O to die and yet be living. 

In the life that heaven is given; 

In the eternal bliss-accord. 

Of Virtue's most divine reward ! 

O to die, to feel the pulse 
Cease its passionate tumults; 
The warm heart becoming colder. 
The light spirit becoming bolder; 
Ere it wings its passage high, 
Beyond earth's aparthagy. 

To die, to know our hours on land 
Are drifting from us like the sand, 
That is on Time's unmeasured shore; 
Nor drifteth backward evermore. 
While all our joys are on its tide. 
That once for us did smoothly glide ! 

To die, as quick as passion's thought. 
That passage is through airy nought. 
From earth to the resplendent seat. 
Where bliss divine is most complete. 
Why then the fearful di-ead to die. 
When life doth leave us with a sign, 

'To die. to go we know not where' 
The wailing of a soul's despair; 
That hath no better hope perchance. 
And thinks death but a circumstance! 
And scorns the holy words of Him, 
Whose throne is o'er the heaven's rim. 

We die to join the spirits band. 
Of Cherubims in Aidenn-land; 
Immortal and eternal all. 
Beyond yon starry azure-wall. 
But yet we must to gain such bliss. 
Be good in such a world as this. 



FOR MAN'S GOOD. 

Lo, all is for man's good ! 

Were the notes of birds but comprehended. 

Our joys ai them were ended. 

But as they are not understood; 

Each quavering song, each tender thrill. 

Brings gladness to our b isom still: 

O wondrous Supreme Will ! 

Much is in mortal power; 
For we reason and we have belief. 
Yet we may not know what every leaf 
Breathes to itself in sylvan bower; 
What saith the river, sighs the plant. 
Echoes the cave at night's descant; 
When spirits seem on high to ciiant ! 



THOUGHT.— BUNKER HILL.-DE SOTO. 



219 



'Twas for man's bliss of mind 

Our Maker j^ave him power to speech, 

Unconiprehcnded tones by each 

Of else that lives on earth or wind; 

So blessed above all things on earth, 

He sinned away an endless birth; 

O bliss repaid by sorrow's dearth ! 



THOUGHT. 



Or born at morning is the mighty thought. 

At day or eve; 
Andinthemind's womb mystically wrought 

Doth life receive, 

He is immortal soon as he has birth; 

If with his ken. 
He sway the passions which may be on 
earth. 

In hearts of men. 

No mighty monarch wields such mighty 
power. 

As wieldeth thought; 
From realms of reason do his temples 
tower. 

To realms of nought. 

"Vast, boundless, are the fair dominions, 
Ruled from his throne; 

His messengers speed on on airy pinions, 
From zone to zone. 



Fancy, Romance, Imagination, 

To him belong; 
Memory and Faith; a powerful nation 

For prose and song. 

Yet frivolous and ever changing. 

Is he in mood; 
Now is he o'er depthless oceans ranging, 

Or dreaming in wood. 

Now treads he the stupendous mountains. 

In mute amaze; 
Or wanders idly near mytnical fountains. 

Of classic days. 

Forever doth he wander on unwearied, 

Over the earth; 
Re-animating those long ages buried. 

By his own birth. 

Yet though Thoughts marvelous dojninion 

So far extend; 
Before One God's sapphirical pavilion, 

His reign hath end. 



Not all thought's regions of magnificant 
splendor. 

Can e'er compare 
To those more sacred which His Will can 
render. 

In glory there. 

And Thought's own earthly and ethereal 
nation. 

His glorious sing. 
Praise Him who is in his resplendent sta- 
tion 

Of kings of King ! 



BUNKER HILL. 

On Bunker Hill what heroes fell who bat- 
tled for a land. 

That had of late resisted well a ruler's 
forced demand; 

For on a day its slope of green became a 
bloody field. 

Where, stern and resolute, were seen the 
men who scorned to yield. 

Could heroism be surpassed such as was 

then displayed? 
Amofg the thousands foemen massed 

what havoc dire they made. 
'Twas dauntless breasts awaited those who 

thought to win the fight, 
'Twas dauntless men who met the foes of 

Liberty and Right. 

O gallant General that gave his life for 

Liberty ! 
W^hat honors can we do the brave such 

glorious men as he ? 
And all liis comrades too who fell, although 

they numbered few. 
Have gained the palm of glory well for 

what they lived to do. 

A monument now crowns the hill where 

once those heroes fought. 
And bids us to remember still they battled 

not for nought; 
They shed their blood for Freedom's cause 

and there may come a day 
When we must do the same, nor pause or 

shrink before the fraj^ ! 



DE SOTO. 



'Twas by the light of lumid stars. 
They laid his form to rest; 

The rolling stream a secret shroud 
Around his noble breast. 

'Twas by the light of weeping stars. 
They laid De Soto low; 



220 



LAKE TAHOE.-CIRCUMSTANCE. 



The Mississippi is his tomb. 

In all its mighty flow ! 
In all the gloom and hush of night, 

Amidst that stillness drear. 
As brave a soul as ever lived. 

Found an eternal bier. 

Though in a distant land there dwelt 

The dearest kin he knew; 
That distant clime, those dearly prised. 

Were lost forever too. 
A sterner train and sterner hands 

Entombed his formjfor aye; 
Few tears were shed above the dead 

Above his silent clay. 
As cold the hearts which wrapped the 
shroud 

Around his pulseless breast; 
As is the stream where he was placed, 

Forevermore at rest ! 

This mighty stream with roll sublime 

Became his monument: 
To show unto a future time. 

His purpose and intent. 
His was no soul to shrink from fear. 

Or wretched in its pride; 
His death was what his life had been, 

As noble, dignified. 
All glory to his noble name ! 

This wanderer of the sea 
Though dead, hath still the greatest claim 

Upon our Memory. 



LAKE TAHOE. 

O lovely lake that on the mountain's crown 

Its azure waters rests in such embrace 
Reposing calmly; like a sky dropt down 
From the blue vastness of the arching 
soace; 
It seemeth to me the ideal crystal, 
We ever gaze in with orbs yearning, 
wistful ! 

So calmly do its waters lie; so placid 

In their unrippled clearness and their 

hue. 

That nature's sentinels around it massed. 

Are ever mirrored in those tints of blue. 

It looks so beautiful, we scarce know 

whether 
It may not be some moveless cloud of 
ether. 

And here when the red sunset weaves a 

lining 
Of crimson in the heavens, and each 

mountain 
Is clothed in that radiance, purple shining, 



Like the spray-drops of any torrent foun- 
tain; 
We then behold it in its beauty-showing. 
With hues more fullv and intensely glow- 
ing. 

It is a beaut j^-spot of depthless waters! 

A mirror for the heaven whei-e at day 
The clouds, which are the sun and ocean's 
daughters, 
Descry themselves ere they dissolve 
away. 
The smile it seems of the Almighty Being 
So isolated, yet so pure in seeing! 



CIRCUMSTANCE. 

How many sorrows we on earth endure. 
For which no happiness is soothing cure; 
How much of happiness our heart retains. 
Which connot be dispelled by deepest 

pains; 
And thus alternately, or joy or woe 
Must keep us company on earth below. 

But that for which there is no recom- 
pense. 
Is the mad yearning of aloftj' sense: 
Bowing beneath the weight of its desire, 
'Till fancy wing it nobly, grandly higher; 
There is no laurel on Parnassus grown. 
Could crow^n the soarings of tliat hope 
alone. 

What are the pleasures which exist on 

earth. 
But a fleet sunshine for our bosom's dearth 
What are the sorrows we may come to 

know. 
But the dark setting of that golden glow: 
Yet intellectual spirits bear the flame, 
Lustruous remaining through all gloom the 

same. 

Men may wreathe idly in a joyful hour. 
Their fancy-garlands, dewy with hope's 

shower; 
Nor deem or dream that after they are 

made. 
All their bloom-loveliness may quickly 

fade. 
But the pure wreathes these yearn for, bear 

a bloom 
Which fadeth not, nor loses its perfume. 

Ah ! mellow-melody of lyric souls ! 
Ah! mystic pages of unwritten scrolls! 
Atiollo-wanderers. and Pallas-minds, 
What thread of destiny their glory binds ! 
Yet Wisdom gives them the thought— ec- 

stacies. 
Which is existence to such souls as these. 



GREECE. 



221 



Alas ! what Grecian warriors gave 

Their youth and life for Liberty; 
And only fouKht to die a slave, 

A bondsman's ininiortality ! 
Alas ! that Freedom's breast should bleed, 

And see her sons heroic fall; 
Because a tyrant pagan creed, 

Destroyed them in its serpent-thrall ! 

Was it for this that they were born? 

Was it for this the Spartans fought? 
Could not the great of ages gone. 

Renew their courage still in thought? 
Infuse at least a spark of tire, 

A ray of that immortal flame 
Which Freedom did to them inspire. 

When Greece was not alone a name? 

O memories of ages past ! 

Heroic annals of the free. 
O glories far too bright to last ! 

Like golden halo on tne sea. 
Has then thy ancient valor fled ! 

O pallid Greece: who giveth birth 
To slaves too frail to free instead 

Thy glory clime, thy lovely earth ! 

In vain, in vain the battle-call 

Of other days, which loudly sung 
" Unconquered do we stand or fall !" 

Now Silence is thy clarion-tongue. 
Let them retain their tyrant-chain. 

Which fetters such a race at last; 
If they will not aspire to gain 

The P Teedom of those ages past. 

On, on. and on; from vale to vale 

From mount to mount, from sea to sea ! 
Repeat again the glorious tale. 

The glorious tale of Liberty ! 
From lip to lip, from heart to heart. 

The fervid tale of olden strife ! 
Until these bonded men upstart 

Again from earth, again to life ! 

Defenseless Freedom weeping stands 

Upon the highest peaks of Greece; 
And stretching forth her fettered hands. 

She vainly asks for her release. 
Her sons have fallen now too low 

To ever upward turn their eyes. 
To view her sorrow-circled brow; 

Or listen to her anguish-sighs. 

O for the fire of Homer's song! 

Or courage of Leonidas ! 
And all his brave immortal throng, 

Who nobly kept the mountain-pass. 
Shall glory plead and plead in vain 

For followers like these of old ? 
Nor Freedom there destroy the chain 

Which fetters now her beauty-mould ? 



The men who fought at Marathon; 

The men who bled at Salamis; 
Could they behold thy glories won. 

For which they strove descend to this? 
Then would their tears deface the page 

Where Fame had once her annals writ; 
So none could at a coming age. 

Grieve soulfully to think of it ! 

I know dark nights can follow days; 

O Greece what darkness follows thine ! 
Yet Liberty's refulgent blaze. 

As once of yore should brightly shine. 
I know that arms grow weak at last; 

How weak O Greece thy own became ! 
Since not the gloi-y of the past. 

Can vivify thy sons the same. 

O quickly let the curtains fall ! 

The play is done, the lights are low. 
And darkness with her ebon pall. 

Broods sadly on the stage of woe. 
What blood was shed by those who played 

Their part in this Life's tragedy. 
And sheathed is the hero's blade. 

For conquered in the strife was he. 

Yes quickly let the curtain down ! 

We know what deeds were grandly 
done. 
We know who claim the glory-crown. 

Although by them 'twas never won, 
'Tis seldom that the sons of Right 

Are conquered by the tyrant race; 
Yet Greece has lived to see the sight. 

And bow beneath its sad disgrace. 

Although those fanes still silent stand. 

Memorial of the ancient time, 
Wlien Liberty upon the land 

Retained her sway with deeds sublime; 
Although the mount is standing yet, 

Where once the fabled Gods did reign; 
Her glowing sun of Fame is set. 

Perchance to never rise again. 

Re-animate again the dead. 

And bid the Phyrric phalanx rise! 
'Till earth resound their warlike tread. 

And battle-thunder wake the skies! 
The shield, the lance, the lyre, the lute. 

Are they forever lowly laid ? 
The poet's lays forever mute. 
Which could unsheath the warrior's blade? 

An urn for all, an urn for all ! 

And consecrate to Time and Song. 
One single urn to mark the fall 

Of music's and of glory's throng ! 
An urn for all, an urn to keep 

Within its sacredness the dust 
Of some who now forever sleep; 

Within the sod of ages' rust. 



222 



BITTERNESS.— TO 



A star is rising, pale and wan. 

Above the glistening Hellespont; 
Its radiance glowing through the span 

Of azure space; like spray a font 
Unsprinkles in pure crj^stal-.iets, 

To shower down as bright below. 
And yonder near Platea sets 

The golden sun in grandeur-show. 

Is yonder star a star of hope 
Now rising beautifully high; 
IiTadiating o'er the scope, 

Of the illimitable sky? 
What pureness shines within its beams! 

O may they dawn for things to be. 
So later bards in greater themes. 

Could glorify the Grecian free ! 



BITTERNESS. 



Could I worship again as I worshipped of 

yore. 
Or deem that the present is sweet as the 

past; 
Could I bow to such worship, and humbly 

adore 
The beauty as fleeting as sighs on the 

blast; 
Could I plead for a respite to sorrow or 

m-ire. 
In the wish for those pleasures forbidden 

to last; 
Or bend down to a shame of my hopeless 

demand ? 
Not unaltered in all let me weepingly 

stand. 

In the portion that cankers and sorrow 

that wears. 
E'en the heart long accustomed such 

things to endure; 
In the depth of such grief, in the midst of 

such cares, 
What being considers himself as secure 
O the mask of derision one broodingly 

bears. 
Mocks with scorn every bosom though 

loving and pure. 
He who bends 'neath his pride must fall 

under the weight. 
For unfaltering few have resisted such 

fate. 

Every pang makes a wound which no fu- 
ture can heal. 
In the pain we must suffer all tortures 
of earth; 
And live on with the same, while we try to 
conceal 
'Neath a smile of deceit our own bosom's 
sad dearth; 



Every look turns to Are, every accent to 

steel. 
Our sorrow has more than recompensed 

for birth. 
And of all that we cherish, the dearest of 

things 
Are the ones that still brings us the worst 

sufferings. 

So a star makes its way through the Chaos 
of gloom, 
So a soul makes its way through the 
darkness of woe; 

'Till the daylight is come and the happi- 
ness bloom. 
For the grief which he suffered was 
worse than we know; 

Yet there are those who only the shadows 
illume. 
They themselves still are dark. Fate de- 
crees it be so. 

Since the life interchange from or sorrow 
or bliss. 

Leads the loftiest soul and the lowest 
amiss. 



TO . 

My eyes woiild ever gaze in thine. 

Whatever came betide; 
I found one day my beauty-shrine. 

While lingering at thy side, 
Ah ! kisses chaste. 

And glances warm, 
I would that they were mine? 

Sweet, sweet, 'tis sweet to know and feel' 

A maiden loves us well; 
To whom alone we can reveal 

That tale so sweet to tell, 
Ah ! kissing then. 

We well might ask. 
Where Sorrow dost thou dwell ! 

Spring humming-bees may busy sip 

Pure honey from the flowers; 
But one fleet moment on thy lip. 

Would overtask their powers. 
Come kiss me then. 

Again, again. 
While wing the cherub-hours ! 

I saw thee first one Summer-night, 

One lovely eventime; 
And now I know but one delight. 

To worship thee in rhyme. 
To worship thee. 

As angels are. 
In heaven chanting bright. 



O HOXEY-TIIROATED SONGSTER.-THE EAST. 



22:3 



To watch by night, and shame the stars, 

Thy chanibci'-window, sweet, 
Like'sonie song-bird througli caging bars, 

Is not a fancy-cheat; 
I watched thus oft, 

'Till high aloft. 
The heavens showed their scai's, 

I do not hear one rustling leaf 

Disturb the stillness now; 
One echo soft, from sighing grief. 

One whisper dying low. 
O coniest thou. 

With lily brow? 
Truth is beyond belief. 

Sweet, sweet, and art thou near to me? 

Thou earnest like a bird 
On Love's light pinions airily. 

And almost then unheard. 
O let me press. 

In lip-caress. 
Thy lips so red to see. 

'Twere bliss to die in such embrace. 
For death were sweet with you; 

O dawn of blushes on thy face, 
O beauty ever new ! 

Nay tremble not. 
The night is hot, 

Not tiioumy maiden true. 

The morn is near, my azxxre-eyed, 

'Tis near, and we must part; 
To be thus ever by thy side 

Were pleasure, were it not ? 
Nay ecstacy 

Thus to be. 
But no it is denied. 



O HONEY-THROATED SONGSTER. 

O honey-throated songster, if while pour- 
ing 
Forth thy own bosom's melodj% thou 
bringest 

Into my own throbbed bosom an adoring 
For all which thou now hymeneal singest. 

Know ttien that with thee I am highly 
soaring 

Where pleasure-bound thy way along thou 
wingest. 

Light-winging wanderer of the buoyant 
ether 
Would I could seat my soul upon thy 
pinions; 
Or be thy loving mate, so both together 
Could make our passage over earth's do- 
minions; 
To know in those fair realms of azure, 
whether 
One may not have all sorrowings ob- 
livions. 



Tone-sweet enchanter of the echoes airy. 

Thy life must be one summer-day of 

blessing; 

Greeting with song the morning luminary. 

When his bright rays the somber skies are 

dressing 
With tints far richer than the fairest fairy 
Hath ever known in her own radiant 
guessing. 

O sweetest choirister in the cath( dral 
Of Nature's worship, there forever hym- 
ing; 
Thy rapturous and lutean madrigal. 
Is in my own thrilled bosom softly 
chiming; 
And I believe in yonder heavenly hall. 
No spirit knows a purer music-rhyming. 



THE EAST. 

In the far East I saw the sun arise. 

Like glory from the dead. 
And brightly flame, until the clouded 
skies 

Were tinged a glowing red. 

And with his rays of opal did he kiss 

The loveliness of earth. 
Nor scorned the temple of Semiramis, 

Low-strown in marble dearth. 

Rach palace desecrated and each shrine. 

Each pyramid of pride. 
Were lit as by a spirit-glow divine. 

And became glorified. 

It was in such a missal I could read 

Man's faith in highest truth. 
Since all those worshipping an idol-creed. 

Had only lived in youth. 

Their symbol-obelisks, their base belief 

In a supremial cause; 
Their mystic rites, were only as a sheaf 

To Nature's changeless laws. 

Their multitude of gods, their" multitude 

Of god-created men. 
Were like a hydra-headed race to brood 

Upon his lowly ken. 

From Moses in the wilderness to those 

Who glorified the cross; 
A myriad of prophets have arose. 

And died and were no loss. 

Lo, how was man created? let me know. 

So that I may believe 
Not telling me as many tell me so. 

From Adam and from Eve. 



224 



HAST THOU EVER.-SONG TO MAY.- WONDER. 



In Afric or in Asia, Greece or Rome ! 

Or in Columbia's wild 
Was man created tirstV Beneath what 
dome 

Became he first a child ? 

The Bible. Sanskrit, Koran, Vedas, all 

Divinely worded books. 
Combine and tell you of man's primal fall. 

How wise their prophet looks! 

O rather let me elevate my thought 

Above this mortal sod. 
Whisperinj^: with somethinj?, mortal man 
was wrought 

And given free will by God. 



HAST THOU EVER. 

Hast thou ever heard birds singing. 
As through etiier they went winging; 
Their pure strains of music pouring. 
As still heavenward circling, soaring. 
Such the melody some spirit. 
From its own self doth inherit. 

Hast thou seen some giant woods shaken. 
When the many hued leaf-lips waken; 
Breathing tenderly, musically, 
Down some gently winding valley, 
Tremulous whispers; lyric only 
In such forest wild and lonely. 

Hast thou heard those soft sighs passing. 
When the moon herself is glassing 
In a lake's crystalline waters: 
Sometimes like those busky daughters 
View themselves; more shyly. 
Then night's queen enthroned so highly. 
Hast thou heard some lisping brooklet, 
Joyously rippling from the nooklet 
Of some cavern; nearly hidden 
Asa beautiful sight forbidden. 
Whose own murmurings of laughter, 
Makes the echoes gambol after. 

These are voices which help cheer us. 
Ever dear and ever near us; 
Airy tongues and minstrelsies. 
Syllabled with their mysteries. 
Accents on our hearing falling. 
Precious for their joy recalling. 



SONG TO MAY. 

charming May, O tender May, 
O rosy blooming Maid; 

1 welcome thee upon a day. 
When round thee is displayed. 

All that fair Nature can display. 
In beauty folds arrayed ! 



O lovely May, O blushing May, 
Thou favorite of the year; 

Nature's aspect is always gay. 
When thy sweet self is near; 

Thougli April with his heart away. 
Doth grieve in empty cheer. 

O tender May. O virgin May, 

Pure maiden of delight? 
What beauteous flowers you display. 

Unto our joyous sight. 
How many pensive fancies sway. 

Around thy features bright. 

O bashful May. O modest May, 
Thou queen of beauteous flowers; 

With thee I will pass time away. 
Among sylvestrian bowers; 

Nor miss the minutes of a day. 
Nor even miss the hours. 

With daisies crowned, O Lady May, 

Primroses in thy hand. 
Come .)oin the merry maiden's play. 

Come join the festive band; 
Thou art of all the fair to-day, 

The fairest in the land ! 

O would that I could woo thee. May, 

As poets love to woo. 
With some enchanting, fairy lay. 

Composed alone for you; 
Then would I lavish praise away, 

And scarcely praise thee true. 

But I shall still content me. May, 
Withgazingon thy charms; 

And fancy clasp such rare display. 
Within my joyous arms; 

At thoughts of thee, O how to-day, 
My beating bosom warms ! 



WONDER. 



Soul I wonder what thou art. 
Of this life a simple part; 
Or unconscious of the strife 
Which gives bitterness to life? 

"Part of spirit, part of form. 
Part with oliss or rapture warm; 
Part in sorrow, living all 
What most men existence call. 

Make thyself a simple pen. 
Dip into the hearts of men; 
Peer or poor, or beggar, king; 
Each is btit a mortal thing. 

Form and mould into a cast. 
Men again as in the past; 
Shape and sculpture, deep and true, 
Grecian heroes now anew ! 



MORN-HYMN.— FAITH.— A SPRING BUD. 



225 



Roman emperors and knaves, 
Norman kings of stormy waves; 
Gallic hosts of battle-days, 
Druids with their prophet-ways. 

Savages on ocean-isles, 
JJrahmas with their worship-wiles; 
Freemen, tyrants, slaves of toil. 
Vivify upon the soil ! 

Make thyself a lonely star. 
Piercing into darkness far. 
Nothing shalt thou see but gloom. 
Though the shadows thou illume. 

Make thyself a tender bird. 
Singing melodies unheard: 
And the echoes will but bring 
Back to thee thy uttering, 

Why art thou not satisfied. 
With thy hope and with thy pride; 
That thou needs must penetrate. 
To the very source of fate? 

Why art thou not satisfied, 
When T am thy spirit guide? 
Go thy way, or go thou mine. 
But weep not nor ever pine!" 



MORN-HYMN. 

O glorious beams which come to bless 

The eaith with joy and light; 
How radiant is thy loveliness. 

Thy brilliancy how briglit ; 

O gracious God who shed such light, 

Upon this rolling sphere. 
Yea, brought it forth from Chaos-night, 

To endless radiance near! 

What thanks to thee, what prayers are 
thine. 

With voice and lyric song; 
Such as once David's harp divine. 

Sublimely poured along! 

And Milton, high immortal bard. 
Though sightless praised thee still; 

May sanctified be his reward. 
Beneath thy Holy Will! 

And not unconsciously may 1 

Deign also give thee praise! 
Thy name alone doth glorify 

The humblest beings lays. 



FAITH, 

Is grief akin to madness. 

Or mildness km to grief; 
And happiness a gladness. 

Which is but in belief? 
That morrow after morrow. 

There dawns for me the same; 
A newer day of sorrow. 

A grief without a name. 

Why should the soul be pining 

In suttering and woe; 
When hope is ever shining. 

And truth is sweet to know. 
Why should the soul be lowly 

In hope and ti-uth. Above 
There waits for us all holy, 

A glorious life of love, 

Unto the soul is given 

An immortality; 
A blesst.'d hope of heaven. 

If sin-expurged it be. 
Then why by fear be shaken. 

Or till with fear the soul; 
Rather to joy awaken. 

Beneath' His mild control. 

Let my soul not be weekly. 

But humbly penitent; 
And meet reverses meekly. 

In sorrow still content. 
And daily growing stronger. 

In a supremer faith; 
Make life beseem the longer. 

The nearer nearing death. 



A SPRING BUD. 

tender bud that didst conceal 
Those virgin beauties you enfold; 

Enraptured all that you reveal. 
I now behold. 

Eacli colored leaf, displaying soft 
New loveliness to wondering eyes, 

1 wonder on, and ponder oft 
With glad surprise. 

'Tis Spring has thee so fair arrayed. 
And gemmed art thou with crystal dew; 

How beautiful those charms displayed 
Unto my view. 

Each petal blown to me reveals 
A dearer charm, a beauty rare; 

A gentle purity that seals 
All praises bare. 



CHANT TO BACCHUS.— BEACTITUDES. 



Sweet herald of refreshing dajs. 
Sweet messenger; thou wilt renew 

Bright thoughts again. Thy form conveys 
A lesson true. 

Pure-'oorn of Nature, undefiled. 
How often have I here indulged 

In thought. How much thy beauty mild 
To me divulged. 

So budded, thou wilt soon perfume 
These bo we is with thy fragrance rich; 

Retaining in thy virgin bloom. 
Of joy how much. 

Adorner of these balmy bowers; 

Murmuring the tender Zephyrs go 
Around thee and these other flowers. 

In bursting glow. 

But thou art the most precious one. 
To me who saw thee unveil near 

Thy maiden beauties, when the sun 
Beamed splendor here. 

At the first cookoo's curious note. 
Thy form bloomed forth in freshness rife 

As if that call from plushy throat 
Woke thee to life. 

Now shaded in this quiet retreat. 

Green lawns below, blue skies above; 
Each morn thy blushes will I greet. 

With words of love. 

Until, as it is heaven's Will, 
Thy bloom begins to slowly fade; 

Then fancy-like I'll cherish still 
Thy charms displayed. 

Thou only bringest to me peace 
Of mind and heart; a sacred joy, 

Which other fair cannot increase, 
Nor pleasure cloy. 

And since I pass the mornings here. 
Thou dost my thoughts sublimely lift; 

Then take as recompense a tear, 
A poet's gift. 



CHANT TO BACCHUS. 



Twine the ivy round his brow, 
Round the brow of Bacchus; 
Ivy-wreathes shall never now 
Fail, or lack us ! 

With young nymphs of beauty singing, 
And the Dryops, Satyrs springing. 
With the Fauns in gayest sport. 
Who can be amort! 



Hither bring the beakers brimming 

O'er with nectar wine; 

Every eye more bright is swimming. 

In its passion shine; 

Bacchus, Bacchus, crowned with ivy. 

Let the dance be yet more lively; 

Frolic thou with Pan together. 

In this shearing wether ! 

Join us too, thou fair Apollo, 
With thy music sweet. 
We thy melody shall follow 
Fast with frantic feet. 
Happy, joyous, and unthinking. 
Let us still be dancing, drinking. 
Bacchus festival to thee. 
Thou god of jollity ! 

Who shall say there is no brightness 

In this world of ours; 

When we see the dew with lightness 

Radiant on the flowers. 

Who shall say we are not merry. 

Whether nymph, or spirit, or fairy. 

Faun, or Satyr, will be near us 

When Bacchus' self doth cheer us. 



BEAUTITUDES. 

May we not pass through the eternal por- 
tals. 
When in the heavens they are rent asun- 
der? 
Flitting before a multitude of mortals. 
Then entering a Paradise of wonder. 

May we not see beyond the present ages 



Unveiling even Nature's mystic chuigesf 
nra veiling the secret of the pages. 
O'er whicli the Universe forever ranges. 



Shall we not see beyond what seems un- 
ending. 
Beyond the crystalline refulgence blind- 
ing. 
Where immortality and death are blend- 
ing- . J 
And Life its woof mysteriously unwmd- 
ing. 

Shall we not wander with a firm believing 
And purpose soul-like ever rising 
stronger I 
Trusting to Knowledge, which is undeceiv- 
ing. 
In the existence Wisdom maketh longer. 

Shall we not penetrate to visions clearly. 

When wakened from this dream-life or 
life slumber? 
Or stray as hopelessly and weakly nearly. 

Among infinite planets without number. 



TO 



-REVELATIOX, 



227 



May we not know where there is glory 
shining. 
And happiness and ecstacy are bloom- 
ing.^ 
Beyond this sphere of mortal spirit pining. 
Where woe and sorrow are forever 
glooming. 

By steps of azure shall we not reach 
higher. 
Unto the altar where the Truth is lying? 
Of all things known or seen in thought- 
aspire. 
Where Love and Faith and Beauty are 
undying. 

Shall we not worship at that altar holy; 

Shall we not offer there our sacrifices? 
And know however high we are so lowly, 

A sinless soul for offering suffices. 

Hope on, hope on, we know that death de- 
feats us 
Of many things, on earth to us endear- 
ing; 
And so we weep. When chance in heaven 
greets us 
Those souls again more beauteous in ap- 
pearing! 



TO- 



O that 1 had met thee, 
Ere that thou wert wed; 
Now can I forget thee. 
Though thou art his instead! 
Oft I ask me whether. 
Had we lived together. 
In youth's cloudless ether 
Thou had loved me too. 

Shall I then deplore thee. 
Thou who art so dear; 
]VIust I not adore thee. 
With a passion drear? 
Thou wilt have thy morrows 
Dawn on joys, not sorrows. 
While my soul but burrows 
Grief from such a view. 

Thou art such a creature, 
As I yearn to love; 
Blessed with every feature 
Of those sprites above. 
Joy to him who won thee. 
Woe that I must shun thee ! 
If I look upon thee. 
Think what thoughts are mine. 



I shall love thee ever. 
With a love untold; 
And forget thee never. 
Till my heart be cold. 
Would the way were clearer. 
Or that thou wert nearer. 
To make life far drearer 
Than I can define. 

W^e are torn asunder. 

By fate's ruthless will; 

Yet through years of wonder, 

I shall love thee still. 

Had I only known thee. 

Ere another owned thee. 

Then I would have shown thee 

All my passion's lore. 

In ray heart I keep it. 
This love intense for thee; 
And with tears I steep it. 
Tears of Misery, 
Would I had not met thee. 
To see another pet thee. 
Now can I forget thee ! 
Alas, no, nevermore ! 



REVELATIOX. 

'Twas in such a night of beauty, 

Hope revealed to my duty; 

.\s if until then not gifted 

By the spirit which hath lifted 

All my feelings from the lowly. 

To a purer region wholly. 

I had only been existing 

In the shadows, which were misting 

From ray yearning soul the glory. 

That is never transitory ! 

'Twas in such a night or fairer. 

Like a night over Sahara. 

When that desert seems an orean. 

Boundless, silent, without motion. 

And I saw the forest sleeping. 

Though the flowerets weeping; 

Till there came a wind from heaven. 

And by that soft power given. 

Were the boughs in slumber shaken; 

Then I felt my soul awaken ! 

'Twas in such a night of wonder; 

And the oak which I stood under 

"Was a giant of the forest; 

Of its hoary kind the hoariest. 

Lightning fangs had stripped its branches. 

And the mountain avalanches, 

In their fury, nearly severed 

That huge frame earth had delivered. 

As above the rest it towered; 

Firmly rooted, still uncowered. 



228 CHRISTIANITY.— AT DAWNING OF DAY.—" THIS WORLD." 



Isles of liffht in heaven's ocean, 
How you thrill me with emotion 
Silent grots, and craggy mountains. 
From whose caverns lone the fountains 
Spring, then trickle through the valley. 
Ye have given me soul-rally! 
And these beauty-revelations. 
Sue us for our adorations. 
Hymns and psalms, and sacred praying. 
For their loveliest displayings. 

There is fragrance round me breathing, 
And a joy within me wreathing 
Garlands dewy-tresh; to cherish 
As a bloom that cannot perish 
Thrilling me with bliss intenser, 
Than the incence of a censer, 
In some temple pure and holy. 
Cui'ling upward slowly, slowly; 
While some nun all snowy-vested. 
Bows befoi'e the Glory-crested ! 

Ah ! the greatness of that Quaker 
Who gave worship to his Maker. 
Or the goodness of that being. 
Who confessed to the All-seeing 
The youth-sins he had committed, 
'Till each one had been remitted. 
These were they of conscious golden. 
In whose soul was truth beholden. 
Truth and Beauty, Truth and Glory; 
Which are never transitory. 



CHRISTIANITY. 

Although you be philosopher. 
You are as liable to err 
As one who knoweth more or less. 
We are not garbed in godliness. 
To comprehend what we behold; 
The Universe so manifold. 
And Wisdom is not amplified 
By vanity, and pomp, and pride. 
For chastity and lowliness. 
Are nearer still to holiness. 

One star from countless constellations, 
One spirit soul for all the nations ! 
Yet Christ hath been enough to make 
The worlds inhabitants awake. 
He came to earth as other men 
Unknown to them, un worshipped then; 
And coronated. But the thorns. 
And not the crown his brow adorns: 
As if to show that men denied 
The throne to him they crucified* 

Jehovah, God, He was thy son ! 
So it is said by more than one. 
We care not what he was. Belief 
May be a joy, may be a grief; 



But what he did to man on earth. 

This deifies his mystic birth ! 

And what he preached, and what 

taught. 
And showed how glory may be sought. 
This is enough for Him, for us. 
Who know him and adore Him thus ! 



he 



AT DAWNING OF THE DAY. 

I dreamt thy arms did twine me round, 

O had I slept for aye ! 
For when I woke, alas ! T found 

The dream had passed away. 
I looked around, and vainly sought. 
Thou only wast in fancy-thought. 

At dawning of the day. 

I dreamt thy eyes did beam on mine, 

O had I slept for aye ! 
I saw their clear adoring-shrine. 

Their clear and mellow ray. 
But when I woke alas ! alas ! 
The dream away did quickly pass. 

At dawning of the day. 

I dreamt my lips thy own did press, 

O had I slept for aye ! 
For when I woke I found no less 

It was a dreamy play. 

how they yearned, and hotly burned. 
For kisses which were not returned. 

At dawning of the day. 

1 dreamt thy balmy scented breath 
Did breathe my life away; 

And that we loved and lived in death. 

Yea, loved and lived for aye ! 
But ah, alas ! the dream did pass. 
And fade like dew-drops on the grass. 
At dawning of the day. 



THIS WORLD," 



'This world is but a fleeting show,' 

Where all may weep and laugh; 
Or rather like a field where grow 

Both golden grain and chaff'. 
A storehouse of imaginings, 

Wherain we place our trust; 
And fill it full of lovely tilings. 

Which soon return to dust. 



TO 



.-FAREWELL TO DAY 



229 



Tis something like a masquerade, 

Or like a carnival; 
Where goodness, truth, is scarce displajed 

Anrt Virtue not at all. 
The lofty-minded and the proud, 

The wretched and the gay; 
In habit costumes are allowed 

To joy their festive-day. 

And some upon a lustre-throne 

Possess a higher place; 
And some from Glory's stepping stone, 

HaN e fallen to disgrace. 
And some have hardened to -control 

Each feeling they posessed 
Within their passion-lofty soul. 

Because they thought it best. 

And some there are who magnified 

The simple griefs of time; 
And wander, as if life denied 

Soul-rest in any clime. 
And some who. like a Norman king, 

Heart-fear have trampled down; 
Bccaiise it stilled their aspiring. 

For Glory's laurel crown. 

And may there not amidst the few, 

Who ever play a part. 
Be noble men and woman too; 

With quite a different heart? 
Ah, yes there are; and these I know 

Are quite enough to make 
This life forego its fleeting show. 

And golden colors take. 



TO . 

O see the stars of night. 

How beauteously they shine; 
But there is more pure light. 

In those large orbs of thine. 
There is no clearer blue, 

111 the azure vaulted skies. 
Than the radiant colored hue. 

Of thy ever beaming eyes. 

And the music of thy voice, 

With the beauty of thy look: 
Seems like the murmuring choice. 

Of a fountain gushing brook. 
Whenjoyfully it springs 

Through the mossy meadowed way, 
Or like sweetness the larks sings. 

At the heralding of day. 

O to sink to spirit-slumbers. 

And keep dreaming still of thee! 
While soul soothing choral-numbers, 

Would swell soft their melody. 
The moon is superbly shining; 

But my thoughts are not of her; 
Since my sad soul is pining 

For one far lovelier. 



Let the bees their sweets be sipping, 

And the flowers bloom in pride; 
Let the gamboling nymphs give lipping 

To the Satyrs at their side. 
For I feel new tremors waken 

In the recess of my heart; 
As if some fair hand had taken. 

All its passion chords apart. 

Spurn not the daftbdilly 

Which bloometh at thy feet; 
And kiss thy pallid lily. 

It louks like thee, my sweet. 
Bathe not thy golden tresses 

In the crystal of the dew; 
But give thy pure caresses. 

To one who loves thee true. 

To one who loves thee dearly; 

Thou beauty radiant thing; 
And sees thee women nearly; 

Yet a maiden blossoming 
In thee fairest virginsplendor. 

That innocence can give. 
So until thy heart thou i-ender, 

I will hope, and hoping live. 



FAREW^ELL TO DAY. 

Farewell fair day, farewell, but not for 

aye. 
A night alone I bid thee sweet farewell, 
A sweet, though sad and sorrowful fare- 

w^ell. Away 
Behind the hillocks veith their gentle 

swell 
Of dewy greenness, do I see thee stray; 
And at the moment peals the chiming bell 
Its evening vespers. It is time to pray. 
For yonder see where the last sun-fold fell. 
Peaceful monotony ! No warbled strain 
Comes from the valky and its cool recess; 
The plumy throngs are silent, till again 
The day will smile upon them. Loneliness 
Is now\ipon the wide extended plain. 
Sublimely lovely in its ampleness. 
Nav, beautiful with all its golden grain. 
Tail ranks of grain decked in their golden 

dress. 
Beneath my feet there flows a gurgling 

brook, 
Oftimes unnoticed by the careless eye. 
Past many a pine, whose branches over- 
look 
Its rippled clearness. Often passing by 
Many a mossy seat or flowery nook; 
Wherein the primrose or the violet. 
Bloom forth in all their virginess. O see. 
Where star eyed Eve from her cloud par- 
apet 
Is now approaching; looking tearfully 
To where the sun in golden glory set 



230 



ROMEO AND JULIET.— WHICH IS BEST ? 



Beneath the crimsoned ocean. As if she 
Would wish hiin yet to linger; yet to shew 
His countenance of ever glowing smiles, 
Which in etherial glory robes anew 
The mountains, valleys and the ocean- 
isles. 
Ah ! see she weepeth tenderly; such dew^ 
As cneers the flowers in their budding 

trials 
Yet why should she weep for himi It 

were best 
Her robes of sorrowing were thrown 

aside. 
That so his airy chamber in the West 
Might welcome her as Phoebus' radiant 

bride. 
But no it cannot be, although her breast 
Yearn often for him. He must be her 

guide. 
And not her lover through the pathless 

way; 
So mournfully she follows him. Her train 
Or star-attendants envying the Day 
Do often flame most brilliantly. In vain 
Alas ! their splendor since it fades away 
When the bright sun appears in heaven 

again; 
Attended by the golden braided morn, 
From whose fair sides the rosy Day was 

born. 
The rosy Day which now I bade farewell. 
For he is gone. He trod with sandal- 

shoon 
The lofty mountain peaks, the lowly dell. 
Where clambering ivies with the oak fes- 
toon? 
He crossed the ocean-waves, as we can 

tell. 
And after disappeared. While the pale 

moon 
Beginneth now her journey in the skies, 
la snowy vestment gemmed with starry 

eyes. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 

I watched thee through the blaze that 
night 

Of hundred chandeliers. 
Thy eyes now sparkling with delight. 

Now radiant through their tears. 
What was that dream of two to you? 

Romeo and Juliet ! 
He of the house of Montague, 

And she of Capulef 

sorrow tale ! O poet heart ! 
Why didst thou weep so much ? 

Had Cupid with his honey dart 

Too given thee touch. 
The lovely twain, the balcony, 

Romeo's passioned wooing— 

1 saw them not, and saw but thee 
Through all their tender cooing. 



Twas magnet-pain to tell the truth. 

For maiden thou wert reaping 
The sorrow of my lieart. In sooth 

Hove thee since that weeping. 
I watched thee as thee play went on. 

Which I had seen so often; 
And ere I knew what thou hadst dofe, 

I felt my feelings soften. 

Willst let me be as bold as he. 

The lover so ill-fated? 
If I could win thy love from thee, 

I would be compensated. 
'"For life till death our love;" he saith, 

"Shall be as true as ever!" 
I vow the same, alas ! till death 

So hallow my endeavor. 



WHICH IS BEST? 



Yes I have gazed 
Unweariedly upward at the night. 
To the eternal beauty stars of light. 
And so remained undazed. 

But at the day. 

When the bright sun in fullest glory shone, 
I could not gaze upon that orb alone; 
And blinded turned away, 

O men, how oft 

Because the lesser glory dazzles less 
Have we gazed on it! Deeming loveliness 
Its radiance mild and soft. 

Why not upraise 

Our sight unto the brightest sphere we 

know. 
The most refulgent; though in doing so 
Our yearning eyes it daze. 

Remember him. 

Who by such glorious splendor became 

blind; 
But only in his sight, for in his mind 
Was light which nought could dim, 

Which is it best? 

To have eyes for the less, or lose the sight 

In gazing at the greatest glory light 

Of heaven for the blest. 



Which is it best 

Immortal soul ? thou hast no sight to lose 

Answer then thou. Thou sayest man 

should choose 
Sight loss before the rest ! 



URIEL.— SONNETS. 



231 



URIEL, 

Muse, let us phantom in a gentle dream 
beautiful Uriel, the messenger 

Of heavenly essences ! No holier theme 
Could ever thrill deliciously the air. 

Yea, image him as if he stood alone 

In ether ambient, with rainbow wings 
Of dazzling brightness, As his features 
shone 

Highly angelical, upon a time 

When Poesy sought but for lovely things. 

In Eden paradise's balmy clime. 

O beauty unimaginable ! How 
Shall one describe him; clad in silver 
vest 
Of gorgeous brightness? Though attemp- 
ted now 
With full awakened, inspiration zest. 
With spear star pointed in his spirit hand, 
Down speeding or up winging through the 
light 
Or azure clearness; swiftly as can fall 
The dew from budding flowers. Heav- 
enly bland. 
With countenance expressing soul de- 
light. 
His purity could dazzle and enthrall. 

Would he could speak ! for the celestial 
chant 
Of angels hath been hushed these many 
years. 
Would he could speak! so listening we 
might pant 
Through very ecstacy. Until the tears 
From such a harmony would brightly fill 
Our orbs up gazing in joy wonderment, 
O brilliance and excessive loveliness ! 
O glorious of the Cherubims! For still 
The mind may see thee, see the beauty 

blent 
Within thy form, more than I can express. 

No, not Apollo when in Tempe, soft 

His tunes pastoral charmed the fragrant 

air: 
Nor chaster Cynthia when she yearns 

aloft 
For young Endymion, can seem so fair. 
Nor that sweet goddess who did gayly lead 
Her nymphs through some still forest's 

flowery-ways; 
Nor blooming Hebe, )iore'en Ganymede, 
Shall claim from us a beauty-pi-eference. 
Beyond this radiant angel; for whose 

praise 
We have no words of rapture toointense 

Yet it is but a phantom in my eyes. 

Though visible to the high soaring mind. 
This messenger. Who from the cloudless 
skies 
Decending once, left brilliaiicy behind 



Along the pathless endlessness of space. 

A beaut J' floated with it and around 
Its radiant essence; while upon his brow. 

There gleamed unnumbeied treasure- 
gems to grace 

The diadem with which he then was 
cjowned 

So one great Poet did his presence know. 



SONNETS. 



LIFE S ULTIMATE, 



Become not blir.ded in the lapse of years 
To ihat eteraal creed which is still left 
To man and man; and says to all his tears. 
'Of what Hope is it Life hath you bereft? 
For as to God we reach through endless 
ways. 
So as to make our definite repose: 
Of that which Death must give in after 
days. 
But of which yet no mortal being knows: 
So can we in our purposes consummate 
Our means and ends, though alternately 
apart. 
And be defymg even the bitterest fate 
By J saying, "Love and Beauty thou but 
art!" 
As different cadences make music whole. 
So different pains and trials complete the 
soul. 



COMMUNINGS. 

At night the thought communes itself with 

thought, 
And Hope and Passion mingle in the soul. 
While vainest yearnings for an Eden 

sought. 
But goad us madly to Ambition's goal. 
Some senseless holiness then fills our 

our breast. 
And like a veil plucked from the sculptor's 

art. 
We there behold the statue of our heart. 
The Love immutable, the radiant guest ! 
Ourselves are clothed in a somberer robe. 
Our minds are darkly bound by visions 

deep; 
One foot of earth we tread becomes the 

globe. 
And when we wake tis but again to sleep; 
And when we die we find we are not dead. 
And when we live we speak of death with 

dread ! 



232 



SONNETS. 



THE "WOOF OF THOUGHT, 

It is most difftcult to understand 

How thought and thought are woven into 

a whole. 
As if they were but threads some slender- 
est hand 
Should spin unconsciously. 'Tis difficult 
To know how thus they weave around the 

soul 
Each skein of passion and each one of 

dole; 
Wherewith it can or sorrow or exult. 
We ponder o'er some volume of the'Past, 
Aud suddenly there comes a fiery flood 
Swift coursing through our veins, Some 

thoughts have cast 
Their meshes over u^for bad or good. 
Some glorious mind hath opened out at last 
The secrets of its loom, wherein we find 
Thread after thread, Life's mysteries un- 
wind. 

VIRGIN MARY, 

Heavenly Mother, Blessed Virgin Mary ! 
Look down upon me a suppliant lowly. 
Kissing the cross within the sanctuary 
Where thy divinity is worshipped holy. 
O Mother of Jesus ! think not I am wholly 
A thoughtless passioner of Love and Duty. 
When thus appoaching pensively and 

slowly. 
To the celestial shrine of highest Beauty. 
Saintliest seraph of the angels winging 
Their radiant forms where He, most High, 

is seated; 
Beautiful Being ! thou art surely bringing 
My soul to where all .ioy is then com- 
pleted. 
All ecstacy, all rapsody, all singing; 
Ah, could those hymnsof Heaven be re- 
peated ! 

LOVE'S FANCIES. 

Love, tenderly and sweetly thou wert say- 
ing 
That music thou adorest. Then anon 
Soft instruments shall joy thy ears with 

playing 
Sweet harmonies, soul-ecstacies every one. 
Some loveliness there is we look upon 
Without thought-ravishment. And music 

heard 
Which thrills us not so much as one sweet 

word 
Wooed from a maiden whom we loved and 

won. 
Therefore beautiful fairy, I would listen 
Rather to thy own voice; and rather hear 
Thy musiciil accents. And forever gaze 
Within thy beautiful orbs that brightly 

glisten 
With purity as hath no heavenly sphere. 
For thus existence knows no sorrowful 

days. 



A KISS. 

Alas ! alas ! a kiss, yet not for me 

sweet kiss wasted on another's lips ! 
Had I the pleasure of thy flnger-tips 

1 still would be contented. But to be 
The dumb beholder of such ravishment 
From thy lips coral, is more misery 
Than passion can sustain. A honeyed kiss 
Free-given to another. Love's essence 

blent 
upon another's asking. Ah, to thee 
rt may have been a short eternal bliss, 
But I beheld it with a throb of sorrow, 
O that I could commit a satyr's theft 
And steal those kisses on thy lips yet left. 
At least fair maid refuse me not to borrow. 

ON MILTON'S BLINDNESS. 

Grand Bard of Harmony, how I condole 
With that which was thy gi-eatest loss— of 

sight- 
Since I near midway to that visib'.ess 

plight, 
So racked. by suffering am, that scarce my 

soul 
Its torture bears, O that I coiild console 
Myself with such a spirit bright as thine ! 
For from within its clear transcendent 

shine 
Soothed repinings. Giving thee control 
Over predominating grief. This loss with 

thee 
Thy glorious Genius could not hope to mar. 
For sightless tis thou wast, to realms afar 
It soared sublimely and immortally. 
But I so youthful ask, " Comes this to bar 
My aspirings, to show it cannot be'f 

ON TIME. 

O glorious Time ! in whose cathedral vast 
Deep silence so prevails, a gloom profound 
Where stand thy martyrs pale and sorrow 

crowned? 
The care woi-n symbols of a sterner past. 
Reveal the antique reliques that thou hast 
Within thy still receptible. The deeds 
Of mighty heroes, and oblivious creeds 
Whose avvfulness made multitudes aghast. 
Thy fane is founded on tbe bleaching 

bones 
Of woeful centuries. Its columned roof 
Resting on buried monar hies and thrones 
Hut there is sanctuaries dim, aloof 
From the bold tread of myriads; sublime 
In all their glory, are the saints of Time. 

earth's MINISTERS, 

We all are ministers within the fane 
of Life and Death. Some with un wrink- 
led brow 
Still innocently faithful to their vow; 



SONNETS. 



Some simple shadows of a bitterer pain. 
O chanKeless Sorrow ! the baptismal font 
Of every living habitant art thou. 
And Love is christened still with tears as 

wont. 
As is the Future in the Present now. 
Some live, whose flaming hearts have 

withered up 
Hope's brightest thoughts: and living curse 

the Lord. 
And some have drank but nectar from 

their cup, 
And some have conquered glory with a 

sword. 
While others tended to Loves sacred flame, 
Or sacrificed existence for a name. 



TO FATE. 

do not scorn me ! also mock me not ! 
Let me exist my little length of time 

In blinding purposes and thoughts sub- 
lime. 
Until this sensitive being die and rot. 
Why am I not a worm but fit to crawl 
Along this barren earth of dust and slime? 
Since I wear out my manhood's fairest 

priine 
In suffering; by being within the thrall 
Of a most torturous passion. All the days 
Are robed in sable garments, and pass by 
Black-browed, and stern, andgloomv-faced 
Alas! 

1 oft have heard that there are thousand 

ways 
By which a heart may live and living, die. 
And now I see these deaths have come to 

pass. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

O Great Creator of undying souls, 
Shakespeare! thou master of the loftiest 

art. 
In Fame's eternal temple shrined apart. 
Crowned with her bright and glorious 

aureoles. 
Thy solemn treading verse, thy stately 

rhyme, 
With pomp and glory, wretchedness and 

tears. 
With feast and revel; onward with the 

years 
Keep kingly panoply. O Bard sublime ! 
Who from the uttermost bounderies of 

space 
Hath formed thy masterpieces. Love and 

Hate; 
Joy, Sorrow; Hope, Despair, attend thee 

nigh. 
Mnemosyne hath thee in her embrace; 
"While all the other heavenly Muses eight 
Wove thee thy crown of immortality. 



BELLA GEMMA. 

I Stand upon 'the beauteous Cyprus shore. 
Too wonder still to ever be forlorn. 
O isle, far-famed for loveliness in the lore 
Of olden poets ! Onthissummer morn 
How balmily fragrant are thy gentle airs. 
Soft breathing through these vales and 

grotto-seats. 
To Venus sacred, queen of passion sweets; 
Or groves Idalium, soothing lovers' cares. 
Fairest of isles, that art a beauteous gem 
Upon the dazzling watei's! Fairest isle 
Of that most fairest Goddess the birth- 
place. 
Well shinest thou in Ocean's diadem. 
Bright are the skies above thee with their 

smile. 
But brighter still thy own upblooming 
grace 



LOVE 8 YEARNINGS. 

Mine, mine, beloved; be but mine alone ! 

Mine to the fulness of thy womanly heart, 

]Mine in the overflowing passion which is 
part. 

And more than part of all which life can 

own- 
Be mine eternally in that caress 

Whose numberless enjoyments have no 
death; 

Be mine to worship, adoringly to bless 

With every moment's speeding dying, 
breath. 

Through all the years which in their ebb 
and flow 

On Life's eternal ocean are as nought; 

Through all the gloom ofthe intensest woe. 

Aud agonized intensity of thought. 

An angel who shall be my better guide. 

Mine, mine, beloved; mine, with none be- 
side ! 



ASPIRATIONS. 

Thou beautiful clouds of air, as pure and 

white 
And dazzling in thy lustre neath the skies. 
As is the Winter's snowy sheet which lies 
Upon the earth, like floors of crysolite! 
Air spirits art thou, veiled in dim twilight; 
As through the ether now ye softly rise. 
To melt thy loveliness away in dyes 
Of star beams shedded through the dusky- 

ing night. 
Grouped in imageries, beneath the arch 
Of the unbounded azure, ye to me, 
Seem bands of Cherubims in silent march 
Across the vastness of infinity. 
And my heart burns within me, and I 

parch 
My maddening lips with wish to rise with 

thee ! 



23t 



SONNETS. 



LONGFELLOW. 



Sweet solemn-thoushted Poet of our land 
Who came to us with "Voices of the 

Night;" 
And went from us into infinite Light, 
So that God's voices ye could understand; 
Ere now thou walkest onward hand in 

hand 
With all thy Brotherhood. With him 

whose psalm 
So fiery-worded, passionate, and calm, 
Its mighty import on himself did brand. 
O how exultingly sometimes thy words 
Chant forth the triumph of all glorious 

truth; 
Or sometimes musical as joyous birds 
They soothe our spirit by their tones of 

ruth. 
How often like Ithuriel's spear, within 
Our hearts they pass; smiting both care 

and sin. 



II. 



A simple shepherd piping oaten reeds 
In Arcady. An Odin with his harp. 
Keeping weird tune to war runes wild and 

sharp, 
That blazen forth great sea-kings' glorious 

deeds; 
A lonely hermit clothed in fitting weeds, 
A true Apostle or Evangelist 
Of Truth and Beauty; follower on with 

Christ; 
A champion of fair Freedom and her 

creeds: 
These hast thou been great Poet ! whose 

kind heart 
Sang benedictions. And whose words shall 

be 
Treasured within the temple of that Art 
Whose only vestal is Eternity. 
Excelsior! O Excelsior ! since thou at last 
The loftiest pinnacle of all thought hath 

past. 



ON KEATS. 

Sweetest Appolo of a later time! 

Thou wast born too ill-fatedly to sing; 
Without thy melody's pei'cnnial chime 

Returning to thee ought but sorrowing. 
From thy young spirit did a fountain 
spring 

Of purest Poesy. But^which sadly fell 
Upon a soil too barren to upbring 

Before thee that to thee most lovable. 
In Dryad bowers thou wast never mute. 

When past thee went the fauns and satyrs 
springing; 



And ever by the music of thy lute 

Were aeriel forms and nymphs around 

thee winging. 
Thou didst enthrall them; charming ab- 
solute 
The fairy throng by thy own spirits sing- 
ing. 



ON FROISSART. 

Thou chronicler of ancient tournaments. 
Of kings; of queens; lords, ladies, knights- 

at-aims: 
Of men's bold deeds; and bloody men's 

intents. 
Of night assails, and battle fray alarms ! 
With thee the clash and ringing of the 

steel 
Was as sweet melody is to our ears. 
Thou plauded champions for their fiery 

zeal. 
Yet wept to see a princess shedding tears. 
The lordly coward thou didst scorn to 

praise, 
Yet did not scorn to praise a coward lord; 
Of England's, Spain's, and France's war- 
ring days. 
Thy tongue reciteth with a manly force. 
And we who listen, wonder can aflford 
That such a stream hath such a winding 

coarse. 



THE MORTALITY OF IMMORTALITY. 

Wc grieve, yet yearn; keep sorrowing as 

we hope ; 
We elevate ourselves above ourselves. 
Scarce deeming Life's mortality the scope 
Of immortality. The Reason delves 
Into infinity, and is repulsed 
By mystery and grandeur. And returns 
Most desolate and sometimes pain-con- 
vulsed. 
Because undiscovering that for which it 

yearns. 
We are but shadows in the vale of Time, 
Existing by His sunsliine. Sabstmce 

forms 
Consistent with Creation and with Thought 
We think there is a Soul which is sublime; 
An unseen essence which our being 

warms. 
But otherwise than this spirit, all seems 
nought. 



MAN'S FRAILTY. 

We are as frail as the Autumnal leaf 
Still pendant from the branches of a tree 
We are as frail, as weak, as prone to grief 
As childhood with itspettishness. Though 
we 



SONNETS. 



235 



Do pride ourselves upon our mortal 

strength. 
We have ambitions, loftiest-souled desires; 
Hopes which are unrequited, deep despair. 
And happiness, which may become at 

lenKth 
The sorrowful guide of furrow-fronted 

Care. 
Our mind is like a flame that still aspires 
To soar sublimelj' and loftily above 
The sight of common beings. Till we 

reach 
The goal of immortality and Love, 
And learn the lesson Nature hath to teach 



DESPAIR. 

I am not what I was, for agonies. 
Revelling in the power of their smart. 
Have pierced their bitterness into my 

heart; 
Blighting its happiness, its joyous ease. 
Death, thou old notary, gather up thy fees; 
The fees of Life of which mine are a part 
Woe's bitterest draught, from which I once 

could start, 
I now have quaffed and drunken to the 

lees. 
Aye. gather up, ere all are in arrears ! 
For even now, grey ancient, even now, 
I think my wealth is only in my tears. 
And in the wrinkles furrowing my brow. 
Aye. even now. Inexorable, thou mayst 

find 
Gall in my heart, and dross within my 

mind. 



LIFE S BATTLE. 

That full-sonorous Milton, aged, blind. 
Whose organ tones reverberate with the 

years 
In God's spacious cathedral, found e'en 

tears 
Were only dew-drops from a darkening 

mind. 
And I with youth and sight, and strength 

for strife. 
E'en in myself but a simple sacristan. 
Dare not rescuscitate the inward man. 
To combat with the cankering thoughts of 

Life. 
Well might he utter when at twenty-three 
Those words that glorified his spring-time 

age. 
If fed with such great thoughts. Since 

now I see 
'Tis with such thoughts that we must Life 

engage. 
To make our days; yea, our existence be 
A glorious battle, an exultant wage. 



love's dawn, 

Thou camest to me as a beautiful saint 
To some lone ancherite in cavern old; 
Who night and day doth his cummunings 

hold 
With beings spotless of all visible taint. 
Thou camest to me as some loveliest cloud 
Comes in the wake of morning. Or as a 

bird. 
That often singing sweetly hath been 

heard; 
Where the eternal rest in earth's cold 

shroud. 
Hyperian dawning of a blissful tune ! 
When thy bright features beamed upon my 

own. 
Like beautiful Aurora in her prime; 
Or Venus rising from her emerald throne. 
And as some spirit i-obed in radiant stole, 
Thy beauty clothed my impassioned soul 



destiny, 

All men are not the same, and few fulfill 
The purposes for which all men seem born. 
All men are not alike; in truth and scorn, 
In joy and woe; in gladness and in ill, 
Some in the strife, though fallen, heroes 

still 
Cheer on the rest, disheartened and for- 
lorn; 
Who with their battle standard fiuttering, 

torn. 
Before the enemy are weak in will. 
Others the vanguard of the striving few. 
Still struggle onward with the brand of 

fate 
Upon their brow. While others yet imbrue 
Their hands and hearts in blood-drops 

dripped from Hate. 
O brittle Fame and Glory ! for what men do 
Is most for thee; since thou dost make 
them great. 



admonition. 

O heart, prepare thee for the coming life! 
And tell the world, that all thy written 

words 
Have only been or echoings of birds. 
Or trumpet tones before the clash of strife 
O heart prepare thee ! for the times are 

rife. 
Be like a warrrior when he proudly girds 
His armor on, and wars with coward herds 
To the wild airs of cymbal and of fife. 
With lyre and lute; with battle axe and 

lance. 
All are the same; upon the self -same field. 
And greater foemen hast kthou now to 

greet 
Than any did before a knight advance. 
But scorn thou too like such a knight to 

yield, 
And fell thy foes before thee at thy feet! 



236 



SONNETS. 



IMAGINATION. 

My gentle one, you are to me a book 
That charms me wholly by its virgin pages. 
Or as a temple in a forest nook. 
Whose holiness my passion assuages. 
If as a book, then let me bind you neatly 
With Cupid's binding; that shall last for- 
ever. 
If as a temple worship you completely, 
And pray for love with all of love's en- 
deavor. 
And many nights, my love, I shall be por- 
ing 
Over this volume and its fair containing. 
Or many nights, love, shall I be adoring 
Within this temple, to soothe passion's 

paining. 
Thus ever gladly I shall be possessing 
My worship idol and my idol's blessing. 



love's champion. 

'Faint heart wins no fair lady.' so she said. 
And I who listened to her artless words. 
Did dream of mellow accents, which the 

birds 
Chant at their masses for the Morn new- 
bred 
'Faint heart wins no fair lady,' so she 

spake. 
As if her words were meaningless, yet 

meet 
To make my heart (faint heart, alas!) 

awake; 
And pour its passion in her bosom sweet. 
'Faint heart wins no fair lady.' so say I. 
Be bolder than a knight when thou dost 

woo; 
Craving that blessing which she would 

deny 
And thou must cherish in all honor due. 
Then wear it stainlessly upon thy breast; 
Thy championed laurels, by none else pos- 



FROM LONE MOUNTAIN. 

Here stood the Indian, where this cross 

now stands, 
Gazing upon the fair expanse below. 
The verdurous valleys and the ocean's 

glow. 
Rich fields of unsow^n and untillaged lands 
Yet flushed with Nature's harvest. His 

red hands 
But knew to dart the arrow from its bow; 
When through the forests he pursued the 

I'oe, 
Or wari-ed with other hated savage bands. 
But look around you now. Behold with 

joy 
Where Industry hath reared her temples 

high. 



Each skill that Art or Knowledge could 

employ 
This Western Paradise to beautify 
Is shown before you. Such is the grand 

charms 
Yon City bears, in Ocean's giant arms. 

ON FREEDOM. 

Freedom, men bore thee in their unmailed 
arn)s. 

While yet a new-born, to this glorious 
shore. 

And learnt to love thee. Learning to 
adore 

The virgin beauty of thy radiant charms, 

Then thou bloomed forth to nobler loveli- 
ness; 

Till men grew covetous. Thy features 
drew 

Bold hearts from other lands who came to 
woo 

And win thee. Falsely yearning to possess 

So fair a Goddess. Spurned love turned 
to hate. 

And blood was shed; how much in thy de- 
fence ! 

But thou wast cherished with a love in- 
tense 

By thos^ who now are numbered with the 
dead. 

And we who love thee, love to emulate 

Their heroism with thy glory wed. 

TO THE SUN. 

Thou glorious, refulgent sapphire blaze 
Whose radiance streaks and spans the 

vaulted arch 
Of Heaven in rotundity. Thy rays 
Seem like gold-burnished spears in gleam- 
ing march 
Across the plaine of this eternal globe. 
Formed by resplendent folds of blinding 

light. 
Glistening in greatest splendor, is thy robe 
Of heavenly essence. And the sight 
Of man beholds thee in the boundless 

scope 
That views all things magnificent. Till 

the rise 
Of Evening. For like to a beaiiteous ray 
Of everlasting and Almighty Hope 
Thou art. Herald in the infinite skies 
Of the munificent and golden Day. 

TO FANCY, 

Wean me not, Fancy, with thy hoydenish 

charms 
From my own path of righteousness; from 

Truth. 
For I am youthful, and one should in 

youth • 

Pass not his hours in thy too yielding arms. 



SONNETS. 



231 



Yet such enchantment do thy smiles 

poscss. 
ITnconscioiisly we are first forward led 
To praise thy beauty. Till its loveliness 
Seetninjj: celesfiaiiy rohed from overhead. 
Enthralls the soul within the drowsied 

Itreast 
Our orbs are dimmed to Truth's transcen- 
dent light, 
And our weak senses stupified, oppressed. 
Dream onward bliiidly in a lulled delight. 
One true were blind thy beauty not to see, 
But Truth's pure beauty holier is to me. 



TO TRITH. 

Spirit of Heaven ! angelic being. Truth ! 
Guide me; for now of guardian have I 

need. 
Holiest! my passionate bosom feed 
With words of inspiration. Thoughts of 

ruth 
Impart to me. for in them is the seed 
Of all humanity. Disperse or soothe 
iVIy wayward nature. I am of a creed 
The most unconquerable in ail fie: y youth 
Worshipping ever at frail Fiincy's shrine, 
Wli( se form I idolized. I wi.uld repent. 
To try and calm my bosom turbxileiit 
Thou art His messeng<^r. I would define 
The glory of tliy features. Thou art sent 
To guide men s musings, be thou guide to 

mine. 

THE ULTIMATE BLISS. 

Poets have spoken of the passionate 
And deep intensity of human hearts. 
When they were first awakened bv the 

beat 
Of an e.Korbing p.ssion; which departs 
Hnt*with our life, and is true life itself. 
For Love and Life kin-essence do possess. 
While some have imaged Eros as the elf 
Who doth love's pains and all its passions 

know. 
But if on earth things beautiful may bless 
Our grieving spirit and our slumberless 

woe. 
And if in heaven, as we mortals think. 
All Beauty doth exist, all blissfulness. 
Love then remaineth the immortal link 
That binds to Paradise our souls below! 



In merry England, did a white-browed 

youth 
Uprear his standard of etherial truth. 
Which Muses did with laurel wreaths 

adorn, 
Bacchus, and Pan. and fair Apollo, are 
Worshipped to-day as they were once of 

old. 
And like the galleon guided by a star, 
80 men still create Beauty in the mould 
Which was his passion and perennial 

meed. 
A beautiful Kndymion indeed ! 



CONSCIENCE. 

There is a witness 'gainst our sinful deeds 

Which self shrinks ever from. Haply be- 
cause 
; It knows so justly to pluck out the weeds 
' From the heart's unpruned garden., Do 
[ we pause? 

When that its accusations are but true 
I It smites us not as lightning flashes smite 

The proudly towering branches ( f the yew; 

But lays us'lowly by a withering blight. 

It is the self of which we are but self. 

The Self of ourself. The inw^ard one 

Who can distinguish Virtue from the pelf 
j Of raiments flaunted in the gliitering sun. 
I The accuser ! .iudge ! the spirit's tribunal 

For our unrighteousness, misdeeds, or all. 



ON CHAUCER. 

I speak of merry Chaucer, who once sung 

Those tender melodies that please us still. 
Although the quaintness of the olden 
tongue 

Be an imnediment to know his will. 
There is a ^lay-day gladness in his tales. 

And a reality that lives in truth; 
Wh' ther he chant of tournament-assails. 

Or great adventurings of joy and ruth. 
Like some sweet ballad for r'-membering. 

Which in our bosom is repeated oft. 
So muchly do we love to hear him sing. 

So welcome are his accents ever soft. 
His spiighthness, his laughter and his wit; 
His joy, his grief; so apt, so sadly fit. 



ON FAME, 



I Is thy goal Fame? then let tby steps per- 

LIFE's HELICON. SUe 

A nobler pathway than thou art persue- 
O speak not of Life's Helicon with scorn! ! ing. 

Since those idealists are no longer rife Say to thyself, I shall live life anew; 

Who linked the outward with the inner And such a life as shall. know no undo- 

life, ing. 

By whom those creeds of Beauty were up- ; Be proudly conscious of thy purpose 

bffine. wholly. 

In joyous jubilations. On a morn, ' Be firm in i*esolutions once betaken; 



SONNETS. 



And let thy spirit, howsoever slowly. 
To a Supreme Beautitude awaken. 

Say to thyself, this is no life of laughter, 
For basest pleasures only lived and liv- 
ing:; 

Since it is thought that the eterne here- 
after 
Is ever just, and stern, and unforgiving. 

Then see if Fame rests in the loud applauses 

Of multitudes, or in diviner causes. 



The glorious symphony of the planets 

steeps 
My soul with feelings holy and refining; 
And ever chides its passions and its pin- 
ing. 
And calmy soothes it in its feverish deeps. 
See yonder where the glimmering night- 
stars sleeps 
Upon the undulating ocean. And afar. 
Like a resplendent Cherubim who keeps 
His watch of mercy, is the polar star. 
O, God why is it that our soul aspires 
So much to wing through this impeding 

space ? 
If it were not that those eternal choirs 
Hymn to us ever of a blissful place. 
Yea, every planet echoes our desires. 
For all the ether seems to whisper "Grace!" 



TO THE MOON. 

Most beauteous orb that o'er the bound- 
less ether 
Hath slowly now arisen, to display 
Thy wan, wan features, pallid as the day 
In arctic regions; oft I ask me whether. 
As science deemeth, tliou art but a wreck 
Or shadow of a world once beautiful ! 
A sister of those planets like a speck 
Dotting the infinite azure? Thou dost lull 
My senses as sublimely as the tones 
Of organs antheming their pealing hymn; 
When Night reposing on her sable thrones 
Hath filled my spirits chalice to the brim 
With holiest dew-drops. O thou seemly 

saint ! 
Cheer me and soothe me for my heart is 
faint. 



EARTH S PILGRIMS. 

We are as pilgrims on a weary way. 
Now stopping at one hamlet, now another; 
Oft basking in the sunshine for a day. 
With love as guidance and with Earth as 

in other. 
And as while journeying we often rest 
To calm our parching lips and fevered 

heart; 



So in this life; of which we are a guest. 
We rest a moment ttien henceforth depart. 
Perchance our journey hath a happy end, 
According to the purpose of our travel 
For we have loftiest mountains to ascend, 
And labyrinthine windings to unravel. 
And haply too when we shall have attained 
Our journey's end, to find no glory gained. 



THE DEGREDATION. 

O God, it is too true we often bow 
Unto to those pleasures which are false 
and base. 
And often purest feelings disavow 
For fear to look in their transcendent 
face. 
We storm and rail, we scorn our future 
meed. 
Considering it the paramour of Time; 
Woe beat our bosoms till our hearts do 
bleed. 
We curse ourselves that wallow in its 
slime. 
Are we so fallen that we cannot raise 
Our spirit higher than this misery ? 
Are we so blinded that we think the days 
Are the pall-bearers round our hearse of 
death ? 
Perchance, O God, our very thoughts of 
Thee 
Are biat frailgaspingsof a dying breath 



LOVE. 

The bliss of love is only transitory. 

As is the radiance of the sun at setting; 
Already fading when the most in glory. 

Already expiring in our soul's abetting. 
It is a bird in ambient ether winging. 

That more and more grows disiant to 
the seeing; 
It is a bird, though caged, yet sweetly 
singing. 

Until its tones are silent with its being. 
It is a Hope that ever is desiring. 

It is a youth that ever is departing. 
It is a joy however much inspiring. 

That afterwards may be our bosom's 
smarting. 
It is the richness, then the dregs of nectar. 
First a reality and then a spectre. 



THE PENITENT. 

Sinful, and wanly fair, with haggard looks. 
She knelt and prayed before the holy 

cross. 
The rays of the pale moon awbke the 

nooks 



SOLITUDE. 



239 



From their dim darkness, seeming to 
emboss 
God's altar with a silvery hectic glow. 
And the high stars beamed downward 
on the moss 
Of numberless marble tombstones far be- 
low. 
That marked for passers by some being's 
loss, 
But still she prayed and wept; her lidded 
eyes 
Low-looking. And her thin and nerve- 
less hands 
Upon her suffering breast folded crosswise. 

She seemed a carven angel to adore, 
A visitor from His un visited lands; 
Yet. ah but one who prayed for grace 
and more. 



All music is the fount of spiritxial joy, 
Where the mind quaffs until its essence 
thrills 
Beneath this blissfullest rapture It doth 
buoy 
Our frailest hopes upon its aerial rills. 
All cares become evanescent; our woe 
A shadowy phantom of the pulsing 
heart. 
And as its mingling cadences upflow. 
We seem to see the mystical curtains 
part 
Between existence, death. And to behold 
What Glory is and heavenly loveliness. 
That there are wreaths which have both 
thorns and flowers. 
And round about us spirits seem to fold 
Their radiant essences, and to caress 
Our throbbing forms for many number- 
less hours. 



THE POET-SEERS 



There is a glorious Brotherhood of men 
Fame-crowned, supernal: an immortal kin j 
Wtio in God's temple learnt His highest ken I 
From golden volums He hath there within. 
They pore over these scrolls of Truth's 

sublime; ' 

Deciphering the mystic scripturings I 

That ruled the destinations of all time [ 

In man's existence. The eternal things 
In Nature's Holy Writ. The supreme Fate. ! 
The universal Life which nought can mar; 
The guardian at Death's adamantine gate. 
These are the true philosophers. These 

are ; 

The prophets of all ages. Men who saw j 
Through no faith film a God's eternal Law. I 



RETROSPECTION. 

Forth from that Life whereat all life hath 
seed 

I sprung. But whether thrilled with that 
desire 

Which late I breathe from Love's reful- 
gent pvre. 

Where God hath written his eternal deed, 

I know me not. If breathing I respire 

The breath that breathes me madly of a 
creed 

Full-crowned with glory, by a glorious 
meed 

Of mellow music from Apollo's lyre. 

Then was I clothed in the innocence 

Of childhood. Now, alas! the bitter truth 

THat mocks me, stares me from my boasted 
youth. 

Tearing the fibres of my inmost sense. 

And I am weeping, doubting that the 
ruth 

Of Life can better even ages hence. 



SOLITUDE. 



DEDICATION. 



I. 



Dear mother, holy name! If I can give 
Atight recompence for days of labor spent 
In loving toil for me. then let me live 
To make thy life ua clouded and content. 
For thee my thoughts on loftier themes 

are bent 
Than hitherto engaged my striving pen; 
And now reveals what long my mind up- 
pent 
On earth, sea, air; but most of earthly 

men; 
Wnose ways and deeds are still beyond my 
ken. 



Not new is this my theme, and yet I find 
A sweet reflection in its written lines, 
Disp^elling all the waywardness a mind 
Sometimes within its essences conflne?. 
All that which thought instinctively di- 
vines. 
Conceives wiihin itself and contemplates; 
All that which the mind's spirit inly shrines 
Which holities. imbues, and elevates. 
Hath here been written, and thy praise 
awaits. 



240 



SOLITUDE. 



We are from a far clime, but that is 
nought. 

For, men regardless of these thinga, I 
hope. 

Will criticise rae only for my thought, 

For my Imagination and its scope. 

Thou knowest how long and vainly I did 
grope 

In darkness, till I knew my purpose 
right. 

Then a voice echoing from the flowery 
slope 

Of .steep Parnassus, thrilled me with de- 
light, 

And woke me by the passion of its might. 



A youthful traveller upon the way. 

With nought to guide me on but thy dear 

face. 
More heavenly, than the heavenly ray 
Which God to Moses once displayed, 1 

trace 
Fame's wearisome path; and on each step 

replace, 
(O fickle fancy! the frail mind's deceit) 
A spirit form garbed in angelic grace. 
Whose lips part ope and words like these 

me greet; 
"Go on, for thee we have reserved an hon- 
ored seat!" 



Had I but chosen there is another one 

To whom these lines were given. But 
what heart. 

Harped on by Passion's fingers, e'er has 
run 

Its diligent course along. No, swayed 
,in part 

By Love, and Hate, and Fear, each rank- 
est dtirt 

Of man's humanity, it faltei's soon; 

And becomes victim of Abiection's'.mart. 

So I have turned from Beauty's chast- 
est boon 

And given to thee my youth's first solemn 
tune. 



With but a hope, however it be weak. 
That that which here is written 'neath 

thy eyes. 
May show thee how unceasingly I seek 
To know myself, and know life's myster- 
ies. 
To know no confines in the azure skies 
Which thought can penetrate. No suf- 

fieience 
Of Hope of Wisdom. Till the beauty lies 
Before me, for the which my soul and 

sense 
Still yearns and yearneth with a wish in- 
tense. 



Sweet Solitude, thou soother of the woes 
Which in man's life will sometimes give 

their stings. 
What wonder that thy charms a halo 

throws 
Ax'ound our hearts, and bears them on 

thought's wings. 
With thee, Ambition and its aspirings 
Strive not all vainly in their lofty power 
Exilerhtion for our sufferings 
Thou givest us, not pleasures of an hour. 
For all thy joys are an eternal duwer. 



And they who seemed as born to glorify 
The simple annals on the page of Time; 
Who lived and died, yet live, immortally 
In all the glory of their works sublime 
In youth, in manhood, and in aged prime, 
Enjoyed the blandishments thou dost 

present. 
Until their life became a holy chime 
Of soothing pleasures; and their thoughts 

were bent 
On that which seemed their glorious mi iid's 

intent. 



And with the guidance of Philosophy. 
Which was of knowledge first a germ, 

then bloom; 
The mind views things in their sublimity. 
A clearer radiance then will re-illunie 
The vision from the deep ingendering 

gloom 
Of ignorance or folly. And the truth 
Of things in their infinity, resume 
Its lustraous splendor in the breast of 

youth, 
Inspiring it with wisdom and with math. 



Man's comprehension may be oft obscured 
By being bound to this huge world of pain; 
But from the burdens which the mind en- 
dured 
A sweet seclusion frees him not in vain. 
And link by link, the universal chain 
Is woven for his spirit; till he learns 
That life must not be treated in disdain. 
And joy or bliss, for which he ever 

yearns. 
Perchance through death eternally re- 
turns, 



For thoughts were incomparabie could 

they pierce 
Beyond God's high divinity of life. 
We say that thus and thus, the Universe 
Was first created from chaotic strife. 
When essences and f rces became rife 
For consummation. But is this avowed 
Hy God to man ? Let Science with a knife 
Carve her conceptions on a floating cloud 
Since man from such cannot be disallowed 



SOLITUDE. 



241 



In Solitude the ever fertile mind 

Is chastened in its images. Which bear 

For it a beauty and a joy combined' 

To calm the wretchedness ot its despair. 

For the mind's visions are her trusted care 

And these combining, give to genius 

birth. 
That seraph-spirit, ravishingly fair. 
For all unsullied is her noble worth. 
With wiuch she glorihes the minds of 
earth. 



And Milton, glorious poet, thus received 
From her pure meditations, pensive 

mood. 
For of his sight deprived, when that he 

grieved. 
It soothed all his grief; and did exclude 
Thoughts over wtiich too often men may | 

brood. ! 

And in such calm reflection did he find j 
The exaltaiion of his apiitude. I 

His constant retreat had become his 

mind, I 

For to no blindness was he there resigned. 



As liberty the musing soul requires, 
So Solitude is liberty alone. , 

How loftily the spirit thought aspires i 

To mantle then. No summit is its own 
Where high Ambition could upbuild its [ 

throne. j 

And in within the ever throbbing breast, j 
There echoes softly Hope's unceasing tone, \ 
'I'he mind each new thing views which 

charms it best, ' 

Finds beauty here and grandeur there iin 

pressed. 



That Beaiity of which Nature beai's im 

press. 
God's handiwork, material and divine ! 
That beaaty which is heavenly, and less I 
Of man's existence than we can define. | 
The Universe is only Beauty's shrine ! i 

And Love its vestal. From whose vir- ; 
gin flame ' 

Life's light, life's joys, life's'ecstacies com- 
bine. I 
And are the spirits which^'^the mortal j 
frame ' 
Intensely feels eternally the same. ' 



And meditations will exalt the mind 

To Wisdom's loftiest and noblest height. 

The faculties which erstwhile scarce di- 
vined 

The gloriousness of things, will by this 
might 

Joy Intellectuality's delight. 

And man whose immortality is more 



Than Life to him revealeth, from his 
sight 

Will di aw the veil of darkness; which be- 
fore 

Obscured his vision to infinite lore. 



One who looks still beyond his present 

state, 
Seeking to pierce Futurity's unknown. 
Striving and strugghng 'neath the mighty 

weight 
Of thoughts supreme, invisible; yet sown 
Deeply within him as himself alone; 
Hath yearnings of a giant in his breast, 
Ah! GaliJeo, wisely we have grown 
To prize the wisdom thou didst once at- 
test; 
That from the Universe man learnethbest. 



Men have spent ages searching for the 

lore 
Of Nature. Yet e'en now do they remain 
Confoutided, as some have been years be- 
fore. 
When they attemped vainly to explain 
Her mystery and grandeur. For in vain 
Confessed was Knowledge Greece's might- 
iest sage 
I would not treat man's science with dis- 
dain. 
Nor blindly reason, nor deride this age. 
Yet who hath solved ihe truths of Nature's 
page? 



But in retirement we are gratified 
By observation. And we penetrate 
Within the sphere of Knowledge, and 

abide 
With all the laws of Nature. Nor abate 
Our searching still for Knowledge. 

Though a fate 
Precludes extension of the loftiest thought 
The grand ideas which we generate 
In deep refleclion, often are as nought; 
As blindly gendered as sublimely 

wrought. 



What first inspired those ancient learned 

men. 
The Chaldeans, to view the firmament 
In all its glorious splendor. First to ken 
Us arched immensibility. They bent 
Each night their steps in lowly wonder- 
ment. 
To watch unnumbered systems, and each 

star 
That through the ether pure refulgence 

sent. 
And thus remained, till daylight came to 

mar 
The panorama of those scenes afar. 



242 



SOLITUDE. 



The Druids also, those aged seers who 

dwelt 
In solemn seats and haunts of solitude; 
First Ignorance's gloomy shades dispelt. 
And then their Nation's infant mind im- 
bued 
With richest Wisdom, intellectual good. 
Until majestic feelings, thoughts inspired 
Within their mind intensely did entrude. 
And the aspiring spirit, though retired 
Within the breast, was still more weirdly 
fired. 

Thus Knowledge did her mighty reign be- 
gin: 

From Nature still. Who lavishly out- 
poured 

Unto man's observation and his ken. 

The secret wonders of her magic hoard. 

O Thou Great Being, who art so adored ! 

Thou didst create the Universe. And 
they 

Who ever its sublimities have pored 

In thought profound. Promethean-like, 
away 

From Thv Sole Essence stole one dazzling 
ray! 

Can this be doubted ! when some minds 

have made 
Themselves a shrine of glory, by the things 
Which they all dazzling to the world dis- 
played 
That long had been dark mystery. It 

brings 
The mind back upon Memory's swift wings. 
Immortal Plato is immortal still 
In infinite conception. And there springs 
Forth from the past by His eternal Will, 
The sublime Law which Newton did in- 
still. 

And by permitting man to exercise 
The faculties with which he is possessed; 
We see in all their wonderment arise 
Those intellects which Wisdom deemeth 

best. 
And concentrated in one true behest, 
Thejmind renews its essences to bring 
Foi'th to the world those prophecies re- 

prest. 
Till the spiritual forces speed on wing 
Of Genius far above each lowly mortal 

thing. 

Art, Music, Poetry; whatever more 
That makes life beautiful. Whatever end 
Through which the genius of man's high- 
est lore 
Can make itself indefinitely blend 
In a distinctive essence, we commend. 
Art. Music, Poetry, can be defined 
As inspirations ; faculties to rend 
The clouds of darkness that surround the 

mind. 
God's greatest gift, immox-tally divined. 



O Poesy, thou art that to the soul 
Which light is to the earth or dew to flow- 
ers ! 
A spirit essence holding in control 
Those minds sublimely formed for lofties 

powers. 
A Genius above Genius' dazzling towers ! 
A heavenly gift, distinctive and supreme 
Which joys us only in its blissful hours. 
The phantom of a grand imagined dream 
Enthralling us with many a glorious theme. 

First, primal, glorious, eloquence of man , 
First passion thrilling from his fiery heart ! 
First prophet that divinely did scan 
The Universe's beauties part by part! 
First one creating the Creator's art 
In magic runes and verse of potency. 
First one that cleft, as cleaves a lightning 

dart. 
The gloom of Ignorance; and brilliantly 
Showed us Life's beauty and divinity ! 

The end of Art, as is the end of all. 

Is to ennoblify and elevate. 

To lift the mind from life's degrading 

thrall. 
Both inconsistent with or Chance or Fate. 
Mortality is earthly mortal state. 
No more, no less. And whether more or 

less. 
Should unbelievers ever scorn or hate 
The circumstance which nothing can re- 
dress- 
Divinity beyond their loveliness ! 

i While Music is etherial as both ! 

I Sweet harmony, joys symbol in its fiow. 

, And Poesy and Art's divinest troth. 
That wedded them in melody below. 

' ( -oncordant as the Universe we know. 
For every planet rolls its glorious strain 
Of rapsody to Him, above the glow 
Of intense azure. While His holy reign. 
Is complete ecstacy of joy again. 

Birth, Life, and Death, these words that 

tell the tale; 
Three simple words comprise the universe 
Of man's existence. And while we ex- 
ale. 
They will be or our blessing or our curse. 
With what astuteness do some men re- 
hearse 
The vain, inglorious honors of their name. 
Take but the last, this singly can immerse 
His hopes, his all, in withering his frame. 
And the first twain have bitter pangs th« 
same. 

Lite is so beautiful and yet so brief 

In its existence; that unhappily 

We scarcely thrive to joy our true belief. 

Ere that we wither off and cease to be. 

Death is so mystical, alas ! that we 



solitudp:. 



243 



Cannot be blamed for dreading of its fate. 
If fate it is. or if fatallity. 
For it maj- lead us to a glorious state 
Of happiness which nought can revelate. 



I knew a learned man. The snows of age 
Crowned him with glory. And upon his 

brow 
Were furrowings of lines, which sorrow's 

rage 
Had deeply sown there. His time below 
Was nearing end to happiness or woe. 
And he had studied much and beheld 

more; 
Yet none like him could blaspheme Nature 

so. 
For he believed nor Hell nor Heaven nor • 
In a Supreme Being. Yet he believed be- I 

fore ■ I 

Those flowing locks were blanched unto 

their snow. 
In his youth's summer all had he believed 
But each deep line thus furrowed on his 

brow. 
Told ye how much in this he was deceived. 
And over his youth's faith he often grieved 
But little only. For his flery heart 
Burned at deceptions whjch it had re- 

ctiived. 
And he could muse on death and never 

start. 
Nor deem or dream what doom it can im- 



He had been my preceptor but I found 
That what he taught me was not fit for 

youth; 
For howsoever life may aged wound 
They should not scotf because deceived in 

truth. 
But mildly rather, and with words of ruth. 
Instill a holier feeling in the breast 
Of a young being. But instead, forsooth. 
He taught me things which but my mind 

opprest. 
How can man speak of sacred things in ] 

jest? . 



Yet let us change the subject. I have 
learnt 

Things for myself, and have my own be- 
lief. 

And have long suffered agonies which 
burnt 

Into my breast beyond a human's grief. 

And also worshipped Fancv. Fairest 
thief 

For thoughts of men's idolatry is she. 

And I have changed and lived a purer leaf 

In my existence. Let the future be 

Whate'er it will, 'twill be the same to me. 



We reckon all men's greatest deeds by 

that 
Which truly makes their deeds a reckon- 
ing. 
And every one whom Time or chance be- 
gat, 
Whether a prophet, hero, or a king. 
Must bear the brunt which centuries will 

fling 
Above each deed of glory which they won. 
The fruit of ages oft is anything 
But recompence beneath the self same sun 
For all which they heroically done. 



We pierce our spears into the azure sky 
And cleave the air, since it impedes us 

nought; 
We worship One whom hope doth deify. 
Yet scarcely worship him except in 

thought. 
We symbolize His Being. As if aught 
Which is Eternal and Omnipotent. 
Could thus be symbolized or idol-wrought. 
We were created by His high intentt 
Who knows himself knows truly God's de- 
scent. 



Thebes. Athens, Memphis, fallen ? it Is 

well ! 
And Babylon and Carthage! better still! 
Where multitude of multitudes could 

dwell. 
Now Ruin gibbers; Silence laughs at will! 
Except at Rome, where Beauty. Art, can 

fill 
The breast with feelings of intensity. 
Where grandest works of architecture 

thrill 
The bosom madly. But where we can see 
The phantom only of what ceased to be. 



Has Athens fallen? Time responds it has. 
Yet why should this awake the mind and 

heart? 
Why should we weep at that which only 

was. 
And is in columns of unburied art ? 
What can her famed renown to lis impart ! 
The lonely ruins of her shades reveal. 
To reverently draw the mind apart? 
Yet gazing on her beauty, do we feel 
Our bosom throb beneath some potent zeal. 



Though 'tis her ancient glory which \re 

love. 
Yet there alas! the moral points too true; 
Though all her warriors' deeds our bosom 

move. 
Yet can those deeds their nobler shades 

renew ? 
But these, these things, so palpable to view 



244 



SOLITUDE. 



We cherish most; their mighty Solitude. 

That as we tread each sounding temple 
through. 

We become silent at their amplitude; 

For these sublimest remnants awe the pen- 
sive mood. 



Here were the shrines of gods— immortal 

men— 
Who shall live in men's thoughts through 

many years. 
Here dwelt those great Philosophers, 

whose ken 
By Time descended, but renews the tears 
Which we must weep, where Ruination 

rears 
Her haggard form. Thus is it these still 

walks 
The grieving bosom of the pilgrim cheers. 
For from their depths still Plato grandly 

talks. 
And sweet Minerva like her thunder-sire 

stalks. 



Are all her glories faded ? Yes, we scan 
In sorrow her fallen splendor. And de- 
plore. 
While wandering 'neath the hill Olympian, 
The sad. sad ending of her ancient lore. 
O fallen loveliness! Thou wert of yore 
The Mecca of all sages. Kven now. 
Though 'tis decaying beauty we adore. 
Thou art still beautiful. Even if thy brow 
Be furrowed by the ruthlessness of Time's 
stern plough. 



Yet Pantheons and temples such as these. 
Have they been worshipped for a godly 

shrined 
Repository for divinities. 
Themselves degrading, yet themselves di- 
vine? 
Go. Bacchus, revel in thy ruby wine. 
Let Hebe pour to Jupiter, and they 
Who formed the Hierarchy. We can de- 
fine 
Such godlin ss far better by the way 
Gods made of clay are crumbling day by 
day. 



A holier and purer Edifice 

Hath by this Pagan temple now upgrown. 

A reverend father in his white surplice 

Doth preach us Christianity alone. 

We want no gods or goddesses of stone, 

A martyr-Christ, a Christian, and a Pope, 

To rule that Christian from his gorgeous 

throne. 
And there you are. Man's everlasting 

hope. 
Finds thusly then an inftnital scope. 



Thou Supreme, Sole Being, and Creator 
Omnipotent, Divinity, Divine ! 

Of all things good and Love the dispensa- 

tor. 
And all the beauteousness we can define; 
My grosser eyes upturn in search of Thine 
Which though invisible I know exist. 
A humble penitent at Mercy's shrine, 

1 ask Thee to dissolve the cloudy mist 
From man's frail mind. Let reason be God 

kissed. 



That which man is is not what he should 

be. 
Since perfect on this planet there are none. 
That which man is is not what he would 

be. 
But His Supreme, and not man's will is 

done. 
The glorious laurels of our earth are won 
Not always by those with the grandest 

soul. 
Grieve not that Time doth much to slowly 

run. 
Grieve not because grief is life's sweetest 

dole; 
But keep thy spirit 'neath thyself's control. 



When Macchiavelli wrote his mystic 

Prince, 
It demonstrated that a better age 
At last was dawning. Which was bright- 
ened since 
By Montesque upon his ethic page. 
So AriPtotle did at best presage 
What said these latter masters of his truth 
That Politics are sciences. The sage 
Of ethics lived too soon for earth, forsooth. 
To let his genius bloom beyond his youth. 



Yet so it is. What centuries began. 

As many centuries must then complete. 

There is no standard for the mind of man; 

The loftiest mountain still is at our feet 

However far above us is its scat. 

The mightiest ocean hath its rippling 

waves, 
WhicU murmur audibly their music sweet. 
And howsoever much our spirit raves 
It still may sip of that for wliich it madly 

craves. 



We speak of Homer with a reverence 
Which is unparalleled in history. 
We wi nder at the glory of his sense. 
And how he lived, and how he ceased to 

be. 
His intellect astonishes. And we 
Do worship to his epic-song eterne. 
It showeth us our Nature's frailty. 
That we can thrive on what is left to learn 
Yet seldom gain, give nothing in return. 



SOLITUDE. 



245 



Is it a priory to be boi*n a king? 

Or degredation to be born a slave? 

To be a Knox is to be suffering; 

To be a Paine is suffering to crave. 

Why live and doubt, and live in doubt to 

rave 
Incessantly on every motive cause ? 
Why call this life a pathway to the grave ? 
Prescribe mortality, defy the laws. 
Before which man immortally must pause; 



Can we adduce by reasoning or faith 
That that which is immutably must be? 
Omnipotence impotent is, one saith 
Who looked on Nature but with mockery. 
Some followers of old Philosophy 
Believed no gods existed, and no law 
But that which happily their eyes could 

see. 
And what was all their earthly visions 

saw, 
To what now holds our wondering eyes in 

awe ? 

Some symbolized each element of space. 
Worshipped the stars, the planets, and the \ 
sun. I 

The moon they worshipped for her queenly 

grace, | 

But scarcely wondered how all things be- 
gun. 
Or how from the chaotic, into one 
United harmony of grand effect 
They became bleflded. What hath Sci- 
ence done 
But to destroy Idolatry ? whose sect j 

Extended further than we can reflect. 



Some deemed that planets held an influ- 
ence 
Over the actions or the deeds of men. 
And so they do. but not in such a sense 
As they l)elieved then with their lowl> ken 
O charlatan Chaldean prophets, when 
Shall man leave ignorance of truth be- 
hind. 
Thought's inconsistencies. For only then. 
And then alone man's still progressive 

mind 
Its highest scope of intellect shall find. 



What is requisite to become a sage. , 

Are you well versed in all the ancient 1 

saws? ( 

Know Nature's history from page to page. | 
Her evolutions and eternal laws? I 

Was He coeval with the primal cause? 
Yea, c(i-existent with these essences? 
Explain us everything. Why do you pause 
To doiibt or ponder, or reflect, or guess? i 
Since all your reasons make not Truth the 

less. 



You have the savage in his nudal state. 

And men of sapience for comparison. 

You have the eternality of Fate, 

And History to tell you what was done. 

But not what was ere History begun. 

Therefore your promulgations are but 
based 

On things discerned beneath the glowing 
sun. 

But shroud the sun, yea, be his light ef- 
faced, 

And what are ye with mind and reason 
graced? 

Is His Supreme authority confined 

To earthly ministers? Who decked in 

cloth 
Of purple sanctified , depress the mind 
With mysticism and with missal-oath. 
Is man a fossil or a behemoth 
Of other ages, to be so deceived? 
And led as puppets by a priestly troth. 
Who is it that these falsest tissues weaved. 
And Truth of all her garmentings relieved? 

Religions are symbolical, and men 

Who worship them in their divine pretext. 

And frail expanding of a lowly ken. 

Or prophecy what Time can bring us next; 

Have only made our faculties more vext. 

Since what is compi'ehended is believed. 

And nothing more. If Wisdom be un- 

sexed. 
How then may man of sorrow be relieved. 
Who in these things is evermore deceived? 

Believe the inward faculties, no more. 

The sense of reason and the sense of sight. 

Let no Chaldean with his prophet lore, 

Obscure thy vision with a gloomy night; 

Whose somber shadows only c n at! right. 

The probable and palpable; and yet 

The highest still divinity and might. 

These things we must believe and not for- 
get. 

But not those worships with their rites of 
jet. 

Let not thy glory be like that of him 

Who built us Rome's Colussus. Which 

defies. 
The wrath of ages, and sublimely grim; 
Stands like a giant 'neath azurine skies. 
Let not thy future be what men dispise, 
Because of one frail fancy you posess. 
But let thy thoughts heroically rise 
And think of earth and earthly matter less 
To gain that blessing beyond human guess. 

There is a certain influence which guides 
Men onward to their glory or their shame; 
And midst the ebb and flow of human 

tides. 
This inflxience is still supreme the same. 



246 



SOLITUDE. 



What shall I call it which is Love by name? 

That certain passion spiritual of man. 

In some degraded. In some whose pure 

aim 
Doth soar them above others, do we scan 
The grand fulfillment of this godly plan. 

For whatsoever you may reck of things 
Which are called earthly, or exist on earth: 
This spirit doth imbue us with those wings 
That make us kin to an immortal birth. 
Is there a bosom which possesses dearth 
Of such a blessing? Human miserable 
Is he who knoweth not its glorious worth. 
For what is life if 'tis not love as well. 
And what is Love but Life as we can tell. 

Love is unbounded as the Universe ! 
Love from the highest to the lowest soul. 
Love infinitely bettering from worse 
The basest being 'neath itself 's control. 
Love, Life ! Life; Love ! the grand eternal 

toll, 
Whose accents echo to immortal ears. 
Love from the giant to the insect mole. 
Love fused, ditfusing joy through darkest 

years 
The blissful balm for sorrow's bitterest 

tears. 

The intellectual spirit born in man, 
Being predominant, doth ever seek 
With yearning undefinable. to scan 
Beyond the illimitable. O how weak 
Are words which aptly he attempt to speak 
Expressing wonderment. His very sense 
Is baffled in its searchings; till all meek. 
It struggles with an ardor too intense 
For even minds of glorious eloquence. 

How the ambitions at those chains rebel 

W^nich fetter them upon this earth's do- 
main 

As Fortune's followers. They strive to 
tell 

Of that vain longing which they still re- 
tain 

Amidst all rancor and amidst disdain. 

They are earth's prophets or its seers, who 
strive 

To burst the bondage of an inner chain. 

To soar beyond the planet where they 
thrive. 

Whose beauty only keeps them here alive- 

To gain renown, to soar on wings of fame. 
To reach those heights unfound bj'^ man be- 
fore- 
Alas ! what is the yearning for the same, 
But kin to all those beauties we adore. 
Intensified, spiritual, in the'lore 
Of poets and their thoughts divinity. 
For like a vestal in the bosom's core. 
This radiant essence is essentially 
Its life, life-giving it eternally 



This is the potent flame, the holy light. 
The true influence which should youth in- 
spire. 
This is the glory and the mind's delight. 
Of those who only do such bliss require. 
And wings their thoughts sublimely, nobly 

higher. 
The profound natures and the lofty minds, 
All bright and halcyonian scenes require. 
For here their Genius kindred beauty 

finds. 
As that within their musings high con- 
bines. 



There is a glorification in the thought 
That souls become immortal; when this 

sphere 
On which they struggled, but yet which is 

nought 
When compared with the Universe, doth 

here 
Free them from earthly bondage. Death 

is dear. 
And precious to the being who receives 
From it his immortality; which fear 
Mocks at. But he who grandly leaves 
This world behind, but life of death be- 
reaves. 



And some become immortal on this earth 
W^hich they inhabited. Their vei'y name 
Wisdom's most brilliant syllables. Their 

birth. 
The birth of Genius and eternal fame. 
How few exi.sting will such honors claim ! 
How few that have existed still exist 
In intellectual gloi-y- 'Tis the same. 
For some whoce lips by Wisdom's lips were 

kissed. 
Are gone from earth forever nor are 

missed. 



The stream of Thought sublimely rolls 

along ! 
Its spring is in eternity, and will 
Into eternity as grand and strong. 
Speed on in beauty and in wonder still. 
The stream of Thought which oft doth 

overfill 
By His beneficence; Like Egypt's Nile, 
O'er desert years of ignorance to spill 
Its priceless waters. Who would not 

awhile 
Float on its bosom when the heavens 

smile? 



O Passion, Passion, goddess of the world ! 
A worship for thee in all breasts is found 
From thy pedestial thou remainst un- 

hurled. 
With wreaths of willow and of cypress 

crowned. 



SOLITUDE. 



24" 



Lo. lift thj^ eyes to heaven, look around 
Laugh, mock, and scorn us, still we are thy 

slave. 
And to thyself adoringly are bound. 
Thy praises are the curses which we rave, 
Thy glories are our bodies in the grave. 



Men in their lifetime pass through seas of 

woe, 
And battle all the storm-winds, .so their 

bark 
To fairer climes of loveliness may go; 
Where Happiness doth follow Sorrow's 

dark 
With a hope's yearning, an immortal 

spark, 
For newer glories in a newer sphere. 
Like bold Columbus when his galleon's 

mark 
Upon wide waters, brought far nations 

here. 
Past Superstition and the isles of Fear. 



O'er the world's faults let studious cynics 

poi'e. 
And find therein a lesson true to learn. 
And see how many praised in highest 

lore I 

Were scarcely worthy such a high return. 
"Whose bosoms Passion's unquenched fires 

did burn 
Had Ctesar tamed a world within the 

arms 
Of Cleopatra? But not such could spurn 
The frailer Roman. W^hat gained he nea r 

her arms? 
Caesar not Antony bore off the victor's 

palms. 



How many chained to worldly employ- 
ments. 
With minds bj^ Nature fitted to be great. 
Blast midst life's multitudes those grand 

intents 
Which Genius had designed. The lowly 

state 
Of those they mingle with, but estimate 
Such wisdom by their own. Their reason 

base 
Cannot such faculties discern. While fate 
Seems mocking them with every forward 

pace. 
O mystic beings of a higher race ! 



But all despondent by the obloquy 
Which they experience from the multi- 
tude? 
Their faculties destroyed become and die. 
Thus cease to be not being understood, 
O creatures of a day. earth's transient 
brood ! 



If ye but knew the pangs of woe ye cause 
To some who think beyond the turpitude 
Of thy comminglings, ye would stop and 

pause. 
To honor more those minds upsprung by 

Genius' laws. 



Best Solitude preserves a love for Truth, 
Which should each mind and evei-y bosom 

fill. 
The golden idol of our transient youth. 
Whose heavenly voice such Virtues did 

instill. 
For Virtue, Truth, are governed by one 

Will, 
The great and good of every clime revere 
The chasteness of her being. And until 
With frailest faiicies she doth dissappear. 
No beauteous seraph is to them more dear 



There is a bliss in dw^elling thus alone 
Yet not alone. For there is still One 

Being 
Omnipotent, invisible, though known. 
And there is pleasure too in the obeying 
Of all his divine Laws. A true agreeing 
Of the breast's tenant and its given light. 
Yes, there is One above us, who All see- 
ing. 
Repays our worship with a pure delight; 
After death shrouds us with its awful 
night. 



This is the blending of those winging days 
Life's messengers of woe or happiness. 
Yet those whose hearts are quite averse to 

praise 
Have thoughts beyond this transient life's 

recess. 
Fate can destroy, rebuild, or better bless 
The wretched soul. Yet it cannot restrain 
The coming on of death. Which ne'erthe- 

less. 
Though earthly ending of all mortal pain. 
Is but beginning of new life again. 



O there is that amidst sweet Solitude 

A beauty inexpressed, which charms all 
souls. 

The mingling thoughts of a most pensive 
mood 

Give birth to feelings, each of which con- 
trols 

The basest passion; and resistless rolls 

Its gentio stream along. The wealth of 
things 

Which the intensest depth of being holds. 

A peace for all of woe. A calm that 
brings 

Its effulgence. A balm for life's sharp 
stings. 



248 



SOLITUDE. 



The soul has sublime feelings, but the 

mind 
Intellectual dispensator of things, 
Is more exalted. For in few we find 
A mighty Genius poised on such strong 

wings. 
That it resists all worldly inpedlngs. 
The mystic lore of many a potent thought. 
Which to the bosom contemplation brings. 
Seems like a golden glory grandly wrought 
In airy nothing and from airy nought. 

Youth finds its harmony. Age hath 

sweeter yet 
In contemplating youth. The birth and 

bloom 
Of things deeply engraven, and so set 
Within the soul's receptable, that all the 

gloom 
Of wretched hopes can never come to 

doom 
Its carven images. They there remain. 
Like to those holy cencers that illume 
The quiet stillness of some sacred fane. 
Soothing the ones that come to soothe 

their pain. 

For youth is as a sunshine that appears 
Brighter and brighter for a golden while. 
But fadeth with the shadow of those years, 
Which only can our pensiveness beguile. 
While Age is like a rainbow-hallowed 

smile. 
Eternal in itself, though impotent. 
Beautiful too, though every sunny dial 
Point to life's fleeting moments. And 

content. 
By being still with hope and calmness 

blent. 

The sweet connection, yea, the holy link 
Between the feelings, thoughts, finds sub- 
stance here. 
For man hath feelings, and his mind must 

think 
On joys which memory retains as dear 
Yet some deride it with a cynic sneer 
As but a tomb or life within a grave. 
Yet since Seclusion brings these nought of 

cheer. 
Behold what minds did once her presence 

crave; 
Who worshipped her for all the joys she 
gave. 

The master minds of Genius! Shall we 

not 
Adore their high divinity of sense. 
And consecrate and glorify each spot 
Where they delivered their mind's elo- 
quence. 
The master minds of Genius! how intense 
Those words throb in our bosom. We 
adore 



The eminence and the exuberance 
Of Wisdom's purest and divinest lore, 
Which welled from out their poet-spirits 
core. 

If Solitude essentially could form 

Those glorious purposes they have made 

known 
In potent words. If Genius 'gan to warm 
Within her precincts, till their minds 

alone 
Had in their thoughts the most sublimely 

grown. 
What should we do but praise their magi 

strain 
Lo mock the sages and their pallid stone, 
But tell us not a Poet lives in vain; 
However much his Genius give us pain. 

Here thougnts converse with things be- 
yond control 
Of humble energies and lowly minds; 
And here a striving and ambitious soul 
A consolation in such calmness finds. 
For by her harms of lovehness she binds 
Alike the mind and heart. The harmony 
And beauty of all Nature round him 

winds. 
Filling his bosom with a purity 
He never deemed could in existence be. 

And here but chaste reflections must exist; 
Can man gaze on earth's Nature and be 

base. 
Or be soul hardened so as to resist 
Her unaftected beauty ? Can he trace 
Her favorite haunts unmoved? Is there 

no place 
Where oft he held communion with those 

things 
Spiritual in their transcendent grace? 
The radiant charm that such retirement 

brings 
Forever round his thrilling bosom clings. 

On Nature's breast to linger, or to rest 
Upon her downy couch. Or to explore 
Those beauties which words still leave un- 
expressed. 
And feel the insatiate wish of knowing 

more; 
To tread her grand, and lovely scenery o'er 
To muse and ponder and so pondering. 
Unconsciously within the bosoms core 
To have an intense yearning which will 

bring 
Its recompence, are joys beyond imagin- 
ing. 

To place thy trust in One who will repay 
In unseen blessings ahould be our first 

thought. 
To slowly wean and oast those thoughts 

away 



SOLITUDE. 



249 



Which false ideas in thj' bosom wrought. 
Until the mind be to perfection brought. 
To render to this One all homage due. 
To thank thyself for joy, and Him for 

aught 
To which life appertains and gladness too. 
And more as yet no present can renew. 



Few words are left me ere I cease this 
song; 

Columbia's greatest Bards have never 
raised 

Their lyres to sing her glories; but ere long 

My theme will praise those who are still 
unpraised. 

When from the darkness of her sorrow- 
blazed 

The light of Freedom, whose pure bril- 
liance bore 

Refulgent glory, then her sons undazed, 

Swelled forth an antliem, which from 
shore to shore 

Will echoing be now and evermore ! 

And forth from that effulgence there up- 
strung 
Her heroes and her sages. Men who gave 
Their eloquence of action and of tongue 
To free her from her bondage. O'er the 

grave 
Of Tyranny, who vainly tried to slave 
This freeborn Nation, they with joy up- 
reared 
A standard of their Liberty. So wave 
Thou glorious Banner for thou art en- 
deared 
To millions more than once thy bosom 
cheered. 



A son from a far clime, 1 still to thee 
Devote my adoration. For thou art 
Unto my bosom all that there may be 
Of beauty on this earth. Thou dost im- 
part 
A httlo of thy greatness to my heart. 
The Land of Valor, where true Freedom 

weaves 
Itself a crown of Glory ! For apart 
From thee no country liberty receives. 
Ocouldst thou honor me w ith laui^el-leaves. 



Yet O America if that noble one, 
Who dared the billows of Atlantic's main, 
To do what yet no one had ever done. 
Cleave through the horrors of its trackless 

plain; 
Be in thy memory. It gives me pain 
To see his noble temple unadorned 
By thy fair hand. He who could wear a 

chain. 
Who died for thee, and living for thee 

mourned, 
Should not be thus unnoticed, often 

scorned. 



Aye, I can claim him as my countrj^man ! 

It is an honor maybe to do so. 

But it is not thus boastingly I scan 

His purpose and his glory. Alas ! no. 

For his existence was a life of woe. 

And what remains of him now but his 

name? 
Which thou didst not adopt. O bitter 

blow ! 
To spurn the wearing of the noble same. 
And let another revel in his fame. 



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