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"With harvest liome this hall was often lighted, 
 I>ancing aiul music; and the ample board 
 
 Made Autumn cheerful ; travellers l)euiglited 
 Found welcome here and went away restoied. 
 
 Now mouinful winds among abandoned cl;and)ers 
 Resound th<? anthem of departed days. 
 
 Whose nights have come like soot upon the end)ers 
 Hy the old hearth whicli nevermore shall blaze." 
 
 " THE HAUNTED HOUSE." Pa'jes 7/ (.ui<l .i^\ 
 
MURIEL, 
 
 THE FOUNDI f\(;, 
 
 ^"^ ®rber ©rifiinal poms. 
 
 BV 
 
 ANDREW RAMSAY, 
 
 yuiET Day, '•Curonkxks or a Canaoun 
 I^AMiLv/'-TiiK Lyre. Err 
 
 
 KKBN. 
 
 T(jRONTu, Ontario : 
 
 P^HUSHED BV A. H. H(,V E^ ,• ( ,, 
 
 •N'o. 10 Ki.Nc; Sthkkt East. 
 
 1 880. 
 
P5 s^sc 
 
 t . 2. 
 
 69741 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 ,,''"'•""''•'■• '"'°-»>>-u„«u.,stanti«n.ea„. 
 l>ul .ve,- any p.«,t »i„g ,„ p„,^,^ 
 
 V^ to be pleased with all that he has cl„,„. - 
 fe|Kaps the grandest «e„iu. rests ,,„tp.,„,,v 
 <^nle.s a «..eHte..p,.i.e than praise is .„„ 
 
 ^':"rr''«*«''-^"™'o'*.%'«npastia,:,„ 
 
 A, those who fondle ,.„se. M the tho,-n • 
 
 '•"'■»elf.c„n.pu„eti„nisatwo.ed«edsab,.e. 
 And good untold is grievous to l,e borne 
 
 '"-orcise this den,on of depression 
 «""S son,etin,es eontributes ■ '..^t O th„ ■ , 
 
 ".e vo,celessnes.s of g„„i„s: still, perteetion 
 '""'"'■" '""^ «>"' 't« "«.P and be enjoyed. 
 
" A strange bird sang, of mournful tone, 
 As if for Spring forever past.'' 
 
 "MuRiiL" Page 34. 
 
"?? 
 
 EAW misgivings beset the issue of a book of 
 poetry, such as a diver feels when about to 
 plunge in cold water. There is a time when 
 the ocean tide is still, and that time seems more fate- 
 ful than when the waters are "dark-heaving." It is a 
 characteristic of imagination to dread its foes more 
 than to fear them ; for the lily has fewer enemies wlien 
 it is in the bud than after its unfolding, especially if it 
 happens to be a flower of the wilderness. So with these 
 poems. The}' were brought up by the meadows, as it 
 were, and nurtured in deep forests. They had not the 
 advantage of a collegiate paternity. The day how- 
 ever has departed when sj-mpathy could have been 
 elicited in favor of ignorance ; yet ignorance remains, 
 like lees in a wine press. Pitted against those alien 
 conditions, is .something in the soul which must be 
 uttered. And if it does not obtain vent by the pen. 
 or pencil, the poetic spirit will revenge itself on its 
 possessor by using the two edged sword of contri- 
 tion. " Nature will be reported;" says Emerson, "all 
 things are engaged in writing their history. The 
 planets go attended by their shadow. The rolling 
 
Vlll 
 
 FKKFACK, 
 
 rock leaves its furrow on the niountain, the river its 
 channel in the soil, the animal its bones in the stratum, 
 the fern its modest epitaph in coal. In man memory 
 is a looking-glass, which, having received images 
 of surrounding objects, is troubletl with life, and dis- 
 poses of them in a new order. He loves to commu- 
 ilicate, and that which is for him to .say lies, like a 
 load.oji his heart till it be delivered." The above .sen- 
 timent, which should be better known by tho.se who 
 ignore the bardic province as being infested with 
 aliens, has been still better cxpre.ssed by Charles (j. 
 I). Roberts, in the ballad ot a Poet's Thought, 
 
 " Then grieving he Hetl from that (luiet spot, 
 To where men work an«l arc weai*y and weep : 
 
 For he said- -' the wealth for which I wrought 
 Is sweet to win hut bitter to keep." " 
 
 P'rom a utilitarian's .standpoint the writing of poetry 
 is an insane proceeding. As soon as a poet " opens 
 an account with eternitv " he is ostracized ; envy, 
 which is somewhat of a negative respect, may have its 
 influence in his alienation. Certainly a poet's banish- 
 ment from his brothers is not with his consent, for in 
 all ages the minstrels have been glad to serve, first in 
 battles for their native land, and foremo.st to welcome 
 peace ; but .society deprecates his business abilit}' as 
 being below that of average men. Feeling this low 
 e.stimate, and there are always numerous confirmations 
 of atlverse opinion — for doubt justifies itself as fre- 
 quently as faith — he is driven forth like Ishmael, as it 
 were, to occupy the disadvantageous position wherein 
 
PKKK;\(;K. 
 
 IX 
 
 pn^judicial opinions place him. This is more patent 
 if the poet has not wealth wherewith to buy good 
 will. Such a condition obtain,'^ in lands where poetry 
 is best appreciated ; but his barilship's mischances are 
 trebled in a new country. It is doubtful if even Burns 
 could have obtained a hearing in Canada, now, equal 
 to the reception which Scotland accorded him while 
 he lived. Ah, well, as lon^ as rainbows are not in the 
 market, and no tax on sunbeams, or tollbars before 
 the moon, poetry shall be received. As for the charjje 
 of lui^ubriousness which is .sometimes preferred ai^ainst 
 the earlier productions of almost all poets, it is not a 
 sin ; it is only the excess of i^lory 'obscured ; for the 
 younj^ bard feels " the burden and the mystery of all 
 this unintellij^^ible world " In a wilderness, alone, tho' 
 amon^ many, who are better ; with hereditar)- endow- 
 ments of depression, and an innate foreboding of a 
 future at war with his inclinations, such circumstances 
 leave, especially on an impressible being, a pensive- 
 ness which is not devoid of power. The vast contrast 
 between the dull level lands of adversity and the city 
 of perfection on the Beulah hill of his longing, to 
 which he looks with eyes purged b\' the " ruphras)' 
 and rue" of adversity, throws a shade on the .soul in 
 proportion to its height, and sheds o'er imagination 
 a dark glow, like a volcano's glare in Paradi.se. The 
 contrast between the celestial spheres and the misrule 
 of this world would blast an angel were he to visit us 
 Why poets, who are frequently so sensitive that they 
 can feel the edge of a shadow, and who know them- 
 selves inferior in unearthliness to none of the minions 
 
X HKKFACK. 
 
 that " clutch the world with a vain-j^n-aspin^ hand," 
 arc tempted to divulge their most cherished emotions 
 and conceptions to an unknown public in a more con- 
 fidential manner than to intimate associates is cer- 
 tainly strange. This effusiveness occurs, too, when 
 one is uncertain whether the ofiering may not be re- 
 jected with the question : " Shalt thou then remain 
 when the mighty have fallen ? " Vet this seeming in- 
 consistency may be explained by the author's motive 
 — not in a preface, however; for a preface is frequently 
 only an apology for the presentation of something 
 that could have been avoided — and we hold H m 
 " unworthy of his office who does those things." If 
 fame is the .sole incentive to sing, its selfishness will 
 produce its own reward — the waste basket of oblivion. 
 But if the hallowed agencies of patriotism, truth, and 
 beauty, added to and vivified by an infinite and 
 innate perception of discord without and harmony 
 within, the spirit yield no rest except through " the 
 immortal wish and power to bless " a few at least of 
 the tuneless thousands, who plod on in life's flinty by- 
 ways, that they may awaken to a livelier sympathy 
 for themselves and for their country by the perusal of 
 poetic de.scriptions of familiar .scenes, then any excuse 
 for publicity is unnecessary. Nor seems it necessary 
 to repeat what the " gentle, reader " has heard .so 
 often : " that these poems were written in circum- 
 stances of the most discouraging character ;" and so 
 on. As if it were possible to find any poetry written 
 otherwise. A happy poet seldom sings, and is as .sel- 
 dom .seen as a star at noon. With few exceptions* 
 
 I I 
 
I'ltKKAri-:, 
 
 XI 
 
 \V(jrds\V()rth, for instance, ixK.t.-. i'.iil in harnionx- ii-> 
 tlicy ^^ain in happincsM. 
 
 '• They ure cnuUetl intn pnt-try l>y wrong. 
 Ami Icani in hmitow wliitt tlicy t»'iuli in Hoiig." 
 
 Tor no nwo worthy (jf his hij^h callinj^j ever chijsr his 
 own avocation. His caUinj^^ is fate ; and. by that 
 same token, n^'ture, ^racc or the j^enii could nc)t ap- 
 point a mortal ; j a much severer ordeal than to or- 
 dain him a bard. Why d(;stiny, or Providence, is so 
 exacting v Ji nature'.-, favorites is another eni}^ma; 
 but the iny.sterv <:s a fact remains; and those who can 
 resist the re.^i)onsibility assumed with the sin<ring 
 robes, should do ..u if the alternative of silence is not 
 bitterer still. For there has bk-cii no attempt made by 
 any le<:fislature to form a scale v/hereby musical or 
 bardic merit may be placed in its legitimate position. 
 Perhaps it is as impossible to devise such a standard 
 as it is to weigh prayers ; consequently song must 
 be judged, as generals are, by the doubtful verdict ot 
 success. No odds about the cost of success. If the 
 Spartan children cannot endure the icebatii. let them 
 die. , 
 
 " We drop a tear for all who fail, 
 To the triumphant cry. All hail I" 
 
 From some of the foregoing observations, it may be 
 seen without saying, that the verses in this volume 
 make no pretentions to that awful inspiration which 
 in some attracts less than it chills, and worries itself 
 about the gods. If they contain any symptoms of 
 superordination they emanated from a temperament 
 
xn 
 
 PkKKACK. 
 
 keenly alive to music, and the mysterious hints ol" un- 
 known but felt conditions of possible perfection for 
 humanity ; and from that world which heaven lets 
 out sometimes, when the unseen powers of nature 
 seem hushed, beholding the sky from nadir to zenith 
 " steeped in some rainbow essence." Also from re- 
 membrance of a locality which for loveliness might 
 rival Avoca in all but fame. 
 
 The poems in this \olumc which were formerly 
 publi.shed, were so kindl\- received by women and 
 men of literary genius too noble to flatter, that the 
 writer came to the conclusion, in order to be .somewhat 
 worthy of such generous opinions, and, however pre- 
 sumptuous it may sound, to add his widow's mite in 
 furtherance of Canadian poetr)-, he sliould carefully 
 expunge all such redundance and disproportion as he 
 feared might militate against their reception by read- 
 ers of a more exacting character. They are con.se- 
 quently, perhaps, in a less fault) condition now than 
 when previously i.ssued ; and arc collected with the 
 addition of about four thousand lines which have not 
 before been in print. Being a Canadian, and not an 
 office-seeker, the author may be allowed to boast of 
 his patriotism. Hence national and loyal subjects 
 have given the writer, at least, most pleasure. 
 
 From a Finnish epic, the Kalevola : 
 
 "The cold lias spoken to ine, and the rain has told nje 
 hei- runts ; the winds of iieaven, the waves of the sea, have 
 spoken and sung to me, the wild birds have taught me, the 
 music of many waters has been my mastei.' 
 
Preamble, 
 
 ENTLE Muses, it' an alien 
 Deems it worth his while to ask you 
 Why this volume void of wisdom 
 As a stream that has no motive 
 But to ripple from its high rock 
 Thro' pied flora in old forests, 
 Sidewise glancing over boulders 
 Mossv-misted with oiecn weather. 
 In thro' marigolilen meads where 
 White-armed n..^ids knee deep in elovtM- 
 Part the perfumed hay for berries ; 
 Passing on thro' clearance slashings 
 Where the woodman's axe is echoed 
 By the barn-iioor Hail resoundino;. 
 By the lowing of Ids cattle, 
 By his hanow uu the fallow, 
 Bj' the laughter ol" his children 
 And the drab high holder tapping 
 Girdled pinetrees. and thro' hamlets. 
 T«»wns and cities large in commerce, 
 
XIV 
 
 PREAMBLE. 
 
 Till at last it reaches ocean ; 
 If the charms of these he question 
 Duty bids you nswer duly : 
 Wherefore need tney be avoided '. 
 Every man's imagination 
 Round some preference fondly lingers, 
 And, unless bis mind is puerile 
 Let him follow his best impulse. 
 If with Stanley he would wander 
 'Mid dark tribes by sultry Congo, 
 Oi- explore where silent Franklin 
 Sleeps beyond boreal Yaanak, 
 Far by seas of flashing icebergs 
 Mefith the north star mute with coldness 
 White in stillness ; or paint beauty 
 For its own sake ; or carve rrtarble 
 Like Laocoon, or Flora, 
 That the world may be more blest with 
 Ampler feasts outspread for learning, 
 Let him do so ; may he prosper 
 In his work for it is worthy. 
 If inspired to limn majestic 
 Lone Niagara's awful grandeur, 
 Great with something more than nature ; 
 j'Or the blue-throned Thousand Islands, 
 \Mist-besprent in frosty fretwork, 
 Or enhaloed by florescence ; 
 Or where yellow Yoseuiite, 
 Being near to angels, blushes 
 Aural, rosy, starlit lustres, 
 Pulsing high in iris nimbus, 
 Lifting skyward him who limus it 
 
 
 m 
 
 I! 
 
PREAMBLK. 
 
 XV 
 
 Till the soul yearns for its kiiidrt' 1 — 
 
 Surely these are always y'ortln^ ; 
 
 For, by a divine appointment, 
 
 Nature is the poet s college ; 
 
 And the seer, Imagination, 
 
 Makes her scholarship immortal 
 
 By strange facts and what they symhul, 
 
 As the colors in a diamond 
 
 Do evolve enduring value, 
 
 And are ampler than the stone is, 
 
 Or as blossoms emblem Eden. 
 
 By her magic death is thwarted, 
 
 And the truth made strong by fiction ; 
 
 With her V>reath the dry bones tremble, 
 
 For her song is resurrection ; 
 
 And the bards, by her foreboding. 
 
 Are the prophets, and they likewise 
 
 Backward look with lordlv vision. 
 
 Thus to one strange thoughts in youth earn*', 
 
 Musing by a glowing hearthfire, 
 
 When the wintry nights were stormy, 
 
 When oaunt wolves howled in dark foi'ests. 
 
 Mused on Muriel the captive, 
 
 Heard the Haunted House-ghosts wailing, 
 
 Heard the shell-sono; of the seashore. 
 
 Where, by weird transfiguration, 
 
 Hose the wondrous Mirage City. 
 
 Saw time's stream from its inception 
 
 To eternal disemboguing ; * 
 
 And the millions on its margin, 
 
 By the dim light of doubt's lanterns, 
 
 Stumbling into bogs abortive. 
 
XVI 
 
 FKKAMHIiK. 
 
 Saw the individual also, 
 Pitiful to see, self- thwarted. 
 Solils, like citadels of famine, 
 All besieged about by goodne.ss, 
 But to aid refusing ingress. 
 Saw the great red dragon limping 
 From the field of Armageddon 
 In the valley of Decision, 
 Filing his unlimbered legions 
 But to find them no hereafter; 
 Saw the vile in that same valley 
 In a ho])per ground as grain is ; 
 Dreamed of plans to Gabriel givei> 
 For a new world, full of wonder, 
 To be governed as this once was 
 By Jehovah, and by angels ; 
 Therefore thus he came to reason : 
 If the Muse becomes a worship 
 Thrilled with images majestic, 
 Till the soul o'ei-flows in urging 
 Others to enjoy and join him, 
 Why should such be forced to furnish 
 An apologetic preface '( 
 Must the oriole or robin, 
 Or the grey wren give a reason 
 For their songs among the branches ( 
 Reason's not man's loftiest talent. 
 There are sacred facts for which we 
 Cannot give the why or wherefore. 
 If you love not with abiding 
 Loyal love this wide Dominion's 
 Fecund lakes and fertile landscapes, 
 
PKKAMBLK. 
 
 Colored by AjkjIIo's coining, 
 / Soft thro' oriental lintels, 
 I Fresh from nature's mighty Maker 
 Oj- withhold your admiration 
 Simply that it is not classic 
 With refinement of expressio/i, 
 Go ; and be thou brief in goinu. 
 Never should a bard song-wortliy 
 Harbor any heartless readei-. 
 Hut if all these things delight you, 
 If you yield the cup of mercy 
 To a foe when he is thirsty ; 
 If your spirit thrills benignlv 
 O'er another's exaltation, 
 Let us join our wills togethei-. 
 And rejoice in mutual meaning, 
 With that fellow^ship of feeling 
 Which when found is so refreshimr. 
 
 XVll 
 
 
 a. 
 
 7^ 
 
 i-S 
 
 1 
 
 r 
 
 P c 
 
i?!- 
 
 
 "Our house of cedar wood was made, 
 Scoi'ed square, tier resting over tier, 
 (■lose to a pine and maple glade 
 
 Where ran thro' fern a river clear." 
 
 "MtiRiRL."-Pa(je '29. 
 
fll^urteL 
 
 -^^ 
 ►^^■^•'^w 
 
 HO' Fortune oave me ample i^old, 
 ;, Ruby and topaz deftly carved, 
 I grieve to see the unconsoled, 
 
 And poor, who are in spirit starved. 
 I have built spacious halls for lore, 
 
 Where worthy meiidicants may learn ; 
 In their dark lantern hearts once more 
 
 Some good ambitious hope may burn. 
 'Twere joy if sotne were living still 
 
 Who went in poverty to rest, 
 To reimburse each empty till, 
 
 And reap the peace of woe redressed. 
 J II other days it came to pass. 
 
 My morn of being, .scrimply poor ; 
 These marigolds among my grass 
 
 More opulent and less obscure. 
 Low in a glen of flowering boughs, 
 
 That sloped toward an early shore. 
 We had an unpretending house ; 
 
 Two streams ran punctual near our door 
 
^ — !i_;_r;a_ 
 
 24 
 
 MIJRIKL. 
 
 ;ii' 
 
 Like veins that thrill voluptuous cliuniis, 
 
 Two streams of azure Wid a down 
 A vale of many trees, whose arms 
 
 Waver] welcome to the vernal inoiii. 
 Dawn t )ok to heart that, lovely vale, 
 
 And evening lingered longest there, 
 I'o let the rose its j'ays inhale, 
 
 And perfume all the l)lushing air. 
 Around that home of other days, 
 
 Whose scantv stores we loved to share. 
 With one of such alluring ways. 
 
 To her is nothing similar. 
 The lily by her brow is dun, 
 
 As for her lips they do disclose 
 The joy of brooks when June's begun, 
 
 The burning glory of th(i rose. 
 
 So mild withal was Muriel ; , 
 
 Her tender phiase and misty eyes 
 Awoke the sacred miracle 
 
 Of love to life, that never dies. 
 She, when an infant, left by one 
 
 Who with Lord Selkirk wended west ; 
 My sole companion from the sun 
 
 At rising, to his even rest. 
 One in all errands, tasks and plays. 
 
 And evermore bv hill and dell 
 
 ft/ 
 
 Heart-hunting; in uncertain ways 
 We listended for the leader's bell, 
 
 Jn cool, dim avenues of trees 
 
 Full of green airs and smell of nard, 
 
MURIKL. 
 
 2f» 
 
 The Hweet jL^olian birds, and these 
 Our only solace and reward. 
 
 Sunshine wan she in those still hums, 
 When winter carves tlje crystal stone, 
 
 SliH was the first to rind tliose flowers 
 Which y;row before the frost is i»;one. 
 
 So passed the years, as lamps aflame 
 Consume the airy life they live, 
 
 Till, burning in my dai'kuess, came 
 A thirst for lore, to gain and give. 
 
2H 
 
 MUKIKL. 
 
 Hi 
 
 " Ho'll ever own his wants," aven'e<l 
 
 A toe whose phrase I chanced to hear ; 
 '* His use by poetiy's deferred. 
 
 As streams in deserts disappear." 
 " Is wisdom " Muriel replied, 
 
 " Unworthy lest it bring e, fee ? " 
 I feared she would not be my bride, 
 
 Well knowing Nature's faults in me. 
 In many aims I took no part 
 
 That gave to other youth delight, 
 But from dim infancy, ray heait 
 
 Was blent with something iniinitH 
 Of spirit, to my kin unknown, 
 
 As is the alienated lot 
 Of a dark cloud in heaven, alone, 
 
 At night when mortals see it not. 
 Still musing on the mighty throngs 
 
 Of mazy azure-sprinkled spheres ; 
 Man's vague horizon, and their songs 
 
 Who triumphed over martyring years. 
 I dreamed that Beauty was a god 
 
 Whose fane would be my heritage, 
 Prom flaming cloud to flowery sjod, 
 
 God's beaut}', and the poet's page. 
 For surely Nature gives the clue 
 
 Her voiceless vastness to translate. 
 As well as grace, and 'tis her due, 
 
 No poet ever chose his fate. 
 And hence his longing after light, 
 
 And theirs who sought the holy grail 
 Tho' scorned by Mammon may be right, 
 
 Better than never seek, to fail. 
 
Ml'ITlKli. 
 
 27 
 
 Tlici'e was a millrauti wlieif a |)t»ol 
 
 Paid azure tril)ute to a Humo, 
 On our reluctant road to'school. 
 
 The school where dread was tauglit anil jrlooni, 
 And sad convulsions of distress 
 
 Far more than infancy deserves, 
 By one who d'u\ with fear express 
 
 Wisdom's dark wine from wreaking nerves, 
 (irorges and cliffs we chose to climb, 
 
 To hide from him in solitude — 
 He diftered from the Ju<lge sublime 
 
 Of Heaven, who called his labour <jood. 
 
 I left, discouraged, Learning's hall, 
 
 'Shamed of my ignorance everywhere, 
 Feeling — and here's the cuj) of gall — 
 
 A crown not mine to ever wear. 
 Hilt peace is purest born of grief, 
 
 As after thunder sunlit blue ; 
 So did we twain rejoice to leave 
 
 His cave, and launch our white cauoe. 
 ^ O, purple river rolled away 
 
 Thro' songful vistas draped in leaves, 
 Thou dost contain more memory 
 
 Than all to which remembrance cleaves. 
 Elder and barberry grew there, 
 
 Bindweed and honeysuckle flung 
 A gleam of foliage on the air. 
 
 While birds in redolency swung 
 The breezy censers, soothed in green 
 
 Oblation, due to Vesper star ; 
 
 / 
 
28 
 
 MUUIKI.. 
 
 All niiiroretJ in a iiioviii;>: siuteii 
 
 Of stilluess. Iieniiiing einiiahai 
 From far otJ'liills in purple iia/«' ; 
 
 A Hr-trt'f sillied, to-day, adieu, 
 Lifting Ins arnis, as one who prays 
 
 ]^uHt in some visionary view. 
 \\'liile Mvnit'l of gentle heart 
 
 Was moved as when faint /(iphyrs fan 
 A wild rose sighing : O, for art 
 
 To paint the picture of this glen. 
 
 Yet, we this vivid vale resigned, 
 
 Because too near a nameless ill ; 
 M}' parents' purpose grew to find 
 
 A home in forests deeper still. 
 We said farewell, and from the scene, 
 
 While yet September days were warm, 
 All entered aisles of crimson green. 
 
 Forth to a solitary farm. 
 
 Remembrance wanders o'er it now, 
 
 The richness of that Autumn road, 
 Fringed with wild herbage, brier and bough 
 
 Bent low beneath their luscious load. 
 The sunshine of that fruitage glowed 
 
 As if the gods were raining wine, 
 Till all the pools like bowls o'erflowed 
 
 With scarlet juices of the vine. 
 We crossed on logs of emerald moss 
 
 A stream but half revealed, for leaves 
 Of vermil veiled its bluish gloss. 
 
 As clouds the stream of time at eves. 
 
 hi 1 1 
 
MlUtlKL. 
 
 29 
 
 / 
 
 And HO our spirits j^ivw u part 
 Of natiiro, lik«i a river rolled 
 
 Derp thro' tlu' solitary heart 
 Of a «i|;r('at wilderness <»t' j^ohl. 
 
 Our house of e.edar vvootl was made, 
 Scored square, tier restin_y; over tier 
 
 (Mose to a pine and ma[)le ;^lade 
 Where ran tliro' I'ein n river clear. 
 
 Twas Autiinin when we reached our r»'si 
 
 But soon fell Winter in that wood 
 (Janie like an u;iinvite<] £;uest, 
 
 To chill aud hamper and ohtrude. 
 And troubleci times, and ft;ver Haujes 
 
 Our lowly circle suftereil then. 
 Death also levied mystic claims 
 
 And took to him the West of men, 
 And he a brother ; lari^e was he ; 
 
 A ffod with strouy: and tender eves. 
 He now beholds the mystery 
 
 Of all the wonder Death implies 
 When hopes before I lis frown desist, 
 
 As blossoms frail in fi'ost aswoon, 
 Or stars by hurricanes dismissed 
 
 From lofty au<lience of the moon. 
 Then headlong Thor with storniy spume 
 
 Besiege.! and scowled away the sky ; 
 A raven sloped his sable plume, 
 
 Ue swung himself aloof on high 
 Among the clouds that whirletl, as dusi 
 
 Upraised by fe«3t of gloomy g<»ds, 
 
BB 
 
 30 
 
 MURIKL. 
 
 : 
 fi' 
 
 mil 
 
 Hi i 
 i 
 
 In shape so terrible our trii.st 
 
 Fell tremblinu, as a forest nods, 
 While Fate's moor'd storm grew dark in Heaven. 
 
 Then moonless winds beoan to blow, 
 Then, from tumultuous anchonijie riven. 
 
 Eai'thwavd euroclydons of woe 
 Assailed our woi'ld ; and all tlie wood 
 
 Wailed like a wild beast in a snare 
 Who sees the trapper come tor blood, 
 
 With hail of deadly bruise; and blare 
 Of lightning from its sounding sheath 
 
 Made ground the arms of many a tree : 
 And leagues of winter swayed beneath 
 
 Night's carnival of mystery. 
 Thus tempests magnified the frown 
 
 Of sorrow, and subdued the brave : 
 As few were near to aid. alone 
 
 We laid him in his frosty grave. 
 Where snow plumes drifting from the plain 
 
 Filled th' unfathomed vales replete ; 
 Kncrusted o'er with icy rain, 
 
 A fair but fearful windiiii:- sheet. 
 
 iii;i H, 
 
 Then rose a sunbuist from the east. 
 
 And lo, the wonder carved in shade ; 
 Tiiose uothic uroves bv ice increased 
 
 A glory out of gloom displayed. 
 The trees that melanchol}'^ time^ 
 
 Wore wreaths of jewels, every stem 
 Shone redly. Hashing rul)y rime ; 
 
 The eves could scarcely orather them, 
 
Ml'HlKL. 
 
 Waen nunn unvciJea the statue Peace, 
 That storms had quarried out of night, 
 
 Like the dead loveliness of Greece, 
 The marbled majesty of light. 
 
 in windy March we hied away 
 
 For sugar- making in a <lell, 
 Lodged m deep forests night and da^-, 
 
 To brew the sap ambrosial. 
 
 TKere stjod f* bee-tree in that Imsh, 
 
 Of nectar lush its cave)ns full ; 
 We lulled its hive with smoke of biush, 
 
 Then felled tie ancient citadel. 
 A lofty sterile hollow pine, 
 
 Deep through, and knotty as the law, 
 Discovered by a judgment line 
 
 Which honey-hunters know to draw 
 By poising in an ashen scup 
 
 The sweets our maple trees supj»ly, 
 From which those toilers, when they sup, 
 
 Are followed as thev hivevaid tlv. 
 
 :U 
 
 H(;aringr any tank of iron 
 
 Clash to its jesoundino- bail 
 inures me where the woods environ 
 
 An old wigwaiii near a swale. 
 By those midnight cauldrons watching 
 
 Hear the wise owl from his limb 
 Reprimanding u s for fetching 
 
 Daylight premature to him. 
 
32 
 
 MUiilUL. 
 
 !M 
 
 I i- 
 
 There he often Hew to listen, 
 
 Sagely turned his head to tsee 
 r'lames and fiiniinj^ vapor glisten, 
 
 And to hoot us tV)m Ids tree. 
 Who comes, Muriel, softly y(»nder '. . 
 
 Who like vapoi- from our vat ? f 
 
 Sago, Indian ; where dost wander '. 
 
 Sago, welcome, smoke and chat. 
 Steered by stars, the coween's piniotis 
 
 Soar above night's cloudy coast, 
 Migrating to warm donr. ons 
 
 From the funeral of frost. 
 When the shade grew still the tinkl.- 
 
 Of slow dropping sap is lieard ; 
 Then the stars forget to twinkle, 
 
 Lulled to rest by many a bird. 
 And our joy was wlien sweet Phcei»r 
 
 Hailed the streaky easterti light. 
 When red dawning- on our leewav 
 
 Hnstened slow departing night. 
 
 At last the liberated trees 
 
 Waved welcome buds in April air ; 
 The liasswood was assailed by bees 
 
 Loading their sacks with yellow wart^. 
 
 ii^ 
 
 We cleared from wood a space for niaizr 
 Whicli loves a sun of ardent glance, 
 
 By burning, and the nightly blaze 
 Illumed the leafy elegance. 
 
 It also pleased us to behold 
 The long anticipated birds, 
 
 !i' I 
 
MUIUKL. 
 
 As each his former haunt. ext(»lled 
 
 With gratitude too great for word.s 
 Yet hope proved recreant each dull year. 
 
 Tho' wooed with persevering toil ; 
 Just when success drew slowly near 
 
 Fate snared it in some adveise coil. 
 My manful father bearing wiongs 
 
 Serene, considerate and kinrj. 
 Oft aptly quoted Burns' songs, 
 And Milton, to improve the mind. 
 
 'Tis well for city baids I ween 
 
 To lilt of corn and clover hay ; 
 Green swaths like waves on seas of green ; 
 
 Its different toiling day by liay 
 'Neath August sunbeams hailing dire, 
 
 As if their rag«( were personal ; 
 Heart-weary, with the tender, fire 
 
 Of love unmentioned, lest it fail. 
 Nor could we conjuie how to spare 
 
 The scanty aid I tVeely gnve ; 
 Still the great longing giew U> ^share 
 
 Their lot, whose .s,)„l,s i,, learning lave 
 For they who drii.k from wisdom's .-up, 
 
 However scant of carthjy store, 
 Ale sure, when tiouble rises u|>, 
 To find nn anchorage and slior,-. 
 
 33 
 
 Anon I learned, in Fortune's el.as 
 A way to better our estate ; 
 
 And Muriel to fill my place— 
 We parted sadly, but elate. 
 
tH 
 
 MUHIKL. 
 
 •1 
 
 A willing slave with elbows bare, 
 
 While toiling having heart to sing ; 
 The tear-drops on her lashes were 
 
 Like dewlit violets in spring. 
 Ah, tho' I feared my ])reference vain, 
 
 Thy blushes told the secret well ; 
 Thou, too, didst wear the sacred chain. 
 
 My acquiescent Muriel. 
 Thv glance went kindling thro' mv heart, 
 
 Like lightning thro' a darkened cloud ; 
 Our mutual spirits loth to part 
 
 As a twin rose by breezes bowed. 
 I've heard sad songs on tragic themes. 
 
 Seen painted passion and strange woes, 
 Also had visions, and dreametl dreams — 
 
 Our pai'ting saddei- was than those. 
 
 
 i-i 
 
 iW- 
 
 
 Not far from home there is a hill 
 
 O'er-garlauded with larches green ; 
 With vague presentiments of ill 
 
 Back-gazing on the exiled scene, 
 Alone I lingered there an hour. 
 
 All self-forgetful, yet aware 
 Of something like immortal power 
 
 Of angels very near ; for there 
 A strange bird sang of mournful tone, 
 
 As if for peace forever past 
 Into seolian sadness, prone 
 
 To sigh for love that did not last. 
 And others answered, but no song 
 
 Of any was so sweet ; how clear 
 
 I!li: 
 
MUKIKI.. 
 
 The gurgling waters glowed among 
 
 The smell of smiling atmo.s|)here 
 That out of budding herbs exhales, 
 
 Ditfusive over wavy air ; 
 And whisperings of gentle gales 
 
 Rose in perpetual anthems there ; 
 While morn evoked the tlowery vale 
 
 To eestacy of rlewy tears ; 
 Devising m3'rrh for memory's trail 
 
 By which to follow up those years. 
 
 Far from those echoes of farewell 
 
 I took my solitary way ; 
 My solitude was Muriel, 
 
 " The morning star of mt-mory.'' 
 
 I made me friends in mamihorj s store 
 
 Whose merchants .>5ail thro' eastejMi tiie ; 
 I lived for gain, in love with lore ; 
 
 So duty learns to shun desire 
 By stern necessity constrained. 
 
 But in time's progress gold was mine : 
 I vowed this, honestly (obtained, 
 
 Shall bv m\- fatiier's hearthstone shine. 
 
 I 
 35 
 
 3 
 
 A missive reached me after years 
 Of alternating iiope and dread, 
 
 Solicitous and blurred with teais 
 For Muriel beloved ; it said : 
 
 Near to our home a stranger dwelt 
 Who craved my chosen, but not me ; 
 
1 
 
 36 
 
 MUftlKL. 
 
 His preference by hrr was felt- 
 
 Aa east wind to a budding tier. 
 He tieachorously gave a bribe. 
 
 Because she to his suit said nay, 
 Conniving with a vagrant tribe 
 
 To steal iier when aUme away. 
 What now the u'old that I had gained 
 
 VVitli all its application gone ? 
 Its promise of fruition feigned 
 
 Had to those i>reakers lured me on, 
 Where expectation's rainbow beam 
 
 Was quickly black cne<l, as a brand 
 J3ropped in anisihiiation's stream 
 
 From disappointment's weary hand. 
 Just on the eve of gaining shore 
 
 Tlie tide swept outward into gloom ; 
 And every wave the dirge " N<» more," 
 
 Beat 'gainst the isles of peace like d<K)m. 
 As fares a spirit caught from thrall 
 
 To heaven, to hear the music wail, 
 And see the glory through the wall, 
 
 Then straightway hurtled back to bale. 
 So from the field of Waterloo 
 
 Napoleon saw his sun go down ; 
 He saw it as he bade adieu 
 
 To empii'e, battle-Held an<l crown. 
 
 There were three stories in that store, 
 An awful depth of stream below ! 
 
 One plunge — and rest foiever more — 
 But it seemed cowaidlv to go. 
 
MURIKL. 
 
 37 
 
 
 In this u'l'eat t'ni|iiie where we dwell, 
 
 KuCTlaiids and luiiie, >lui]i I not sta\-, 
 Coeval, whether ill or well, 
 
 With Muriel, night or destiny '. 
 () Nii^ht, thou vast obsidian glass. 
 
 Where spiiits see the infinite 
 Of more than space, thy reign shall ()a.ss. 
 
 Thou art not everlasting, Night. 
 Kigh up in heaven the stars agleani 
 
 Remonstrate 'gainst lit'e*s short desj)aii' ; 
 Are they not anchored in thy stieam, 
 
 Peace ! t\)rever anchored there i 
 Then thon, O Hesper, hear my prayer ; 
 
 Guide me to one in bondage drear ; 
 Thou art the friend of all things fair, 
 
 Thou hast seen Muriel, therefore hear. 
 She was tlie first to view thy grace 
 
 Conje forth before the dav had gone, 
 When all tliy subjects took their placi' 
 
 At reverend distance one by one. 
 Rapt in her violet eyes thy ray> 
 
 Fell soft as over sleepy flowers. 
 What time all j)ensive nature pays 
 
 Mute orisons to unseen powers. 
 Who, save thyself, was near when she 
 
 Laved in her lucid pool alone ;* 
 Each drop inspired and blest to be 
 
 On her ambrosial bosom shone. 
 A starlit statue sprinkled o'er 
 
 With rippling diamonds, rendered tine 
 And pure by her new soul, which wore 
 
 Its beauty luminous like thine. 
 
iiji'i' 
 
 38 MURIEL. 
 
 Her t'onn is marvellous, profuse 
 
 As that which love <Hil o'er-infonn, 
 When the white statue of the muse 
 
 Was worshipped into being warm. 
 As if a spirit ex(|uisite 
 
 Of paiian Venus took control, 
 And blushed it into life and light 
 
 With fervid eestacy of soul. * 
 
 And, as it were a font of wine, 
 
 Dazed by Wie beauty where it fell, 
 So gently fell those tresses tine 
 
 O'er loveliness ineffable. 
 r do but dimly note each charm, 
 
 Dear Venus, that thou inavst avert 
 VroMO. my especial love the harm 
 
 Which wrought thino ea»«ly worshi)> hurt i 
 And if, as calds of old averred, 
 
 "Tis in thy sphere to ban oi' bless, 
 Be thou benign to one ]>referred 
 
 Who wanders in a wilderness. 
 Sliould this seem trivial to thee, 
 
 Lone pilgrim o'er the azure plain. 
 Hemei;nber Muriel and me, 
 ine own 
 
 B.>- 
 
 pas> 
 
 My in 
 
 Men are more wise concerning woe 
 
 Than peace, for pain's the common lot ; 
 
 What most we need, and best to know, 
 By trouble's information's bought. 
 
 The very Sabbath days of some 
 Ai'e overlapped with weekly care, 
 
MUKIKL. 
 
 39 
 
 As* isles rtiict.' LfreeJi. wlieii >uii'V-< bocmi. 
 
 Subuu'Viivd. surrounded everywli'ie. 
 So, taught by ill, one kindly t(tld 
 
 Of a dark embassy employed 
 To join a far off sunset fold— 
 
 I vowed to make their mission voitl. 
 And claim hei- ; foi- true hearts defy, 
 
 Tiio' rived, the fates, and battle ill, 
 As stars that set, or flowers that die, 
 
 Still live in light, in perfume still. 
 Meantime mine eyes did thirst to drink 
 
 The gaze of tnose at home foi'lorn ; 
 Naught could they do but pray and think 
 
 Of Muriel's ministration shorn. 
 Remembrance of her beauty lost 
 
 iJame back to haunt my heart again, 
 As ghosts of Howeis that die of frost 
 
 Appear upon a wind(»w pane. 
 
 Once m(»ie u|)on the homewnrd hill 
 
 Thronged with such memories as melt 
 The heart, as flowers may feel a rill : 
 
 And there the jirescient presence felt 
 Whereof that bird of plumage white, 
 
 S(» plaintive formerly thereby, 
 Did .sing, as if it felt the night 
 
 Of nameless evil, brooding' niffh. 
 
 Yet hojie on reachii ^' home aiose 
 To clasp the hands again, and share 
 
 The eyes that looked thro" years of those 
 Who tried to make a friend of care, 
 

 40 
 
 VIURIKL. 
 
 By kindness, uru-inij spcetly (jiit^^t — 
 
 A«lvisino not a tardy stay — 
 (), wistful look of ago, my breast 
 
 Will carry loiioer than its clay ! 
 I left them gold and {ini])le aid, 
 
 Not having knowledge of return : 
 Tis more than ojiulence, they said. 
 
 With outward smiles that inly mourn. 
 
 It were not wise, for too sad words 
 
 Would be required to paint the same, 
 How like a wounded deer from herds 
 
 That wanders far, — At length I canie 
 Forth where Su])erior's inky surge 
 
 Spumes thro' large gorges, scattering froth ; 
 By love persuaded, on T urge 
 
 The leagues of lake and «>loon)v eroth. 
 Past sterile cliffs of ])ictured stone. 
 
 Tanned like the crao' where chained in cold 
 Prometheus hung in pain alone, 
 
 For teaching what is still untold. 
 Anon beyond a loeky bound, '■ 
 
 A smoke of lodges streaked the air ; 
 And following that trail, I found ■ . 
 
 Pale Muriel apart at prayer. 
 My heart was as an airless leaf 
 
 With great humility of joy, 
 Tranced by her invocation brief, 
 
 To hear her voice my name employ. 
 (), tender meeting ! every spray 
 Was mute with reverence elate — 
 
MI'IUKL. 
 
 41 
 
 May all Im- answorctl thus wlio pray 
 Such •'cstac'V to crli'liratt;. 
 
 Tht-'V liad dealt (tomteously liy liciv 
 
 And u'l-acioiisiv saliittvl nn'. 
 As fur our IVc<Ml()m, tlniir dfuiur 
 
 Admoiiislird it was not t 
 
 < I 1 IC 
 
 We knew tin; wav of that w ild WaiKl 
 
 ^xpencnei! 
 
 had 
 
 (' nil' hidt.^ inv tinif 
 
 Meanwhile to travel rei^ions ijjiand 
 
 In red Octohei' is suhlinit*. 
 And thou,<4'htfully they foiined for u- 
 
 Ut'H 
 
 separate hut ample tent, 
 exile moose, imi)ervious 
 
 P» 
 
 T 
 
 o every vai'vinir element 
 
 They fashioned hoats from hark of hircli, 
 
 Shaped trim to cedarn sterns and hnws, 
 Ash rihhed, and caulked with piney smireh, 
 
 Anil to(»k the wavey way in tliosr. 
 Amono- la^roons that seemed of air, 
 
 Reflecting Kespei- from afar — 
 0, trusty h<!rald heaming fair, 
 
 And hathed in licpiid cinna'iar 1 
 
 Behold us now U|)on the tide 
 
 Of sahle waves, a sai>le throng 
 Westerly trending, not to glide 
 
 Far seawise, when the winds were stionij 
 On land by night, and on the wav«' 
 
 When morning lit the urgent east : 
 Some lilting legends of the brave 
 
 In battle fierce or huntinu- feast. 
 
42 
 
 MCltlKI.. 
 
 Some did to .saciiHcc i'()risi<;ii 
 
 A pale dog on a Haining pyrr. 
 With nioose-thon^s bound to burning pine, 
 
 Their slaughter-god of h(!l[» to hire. 
 Some reckless kindled praiiies dry, 
 
 Wherefroni the frightened bison shrank 
 Back wheri' is water, but to die 
 
 In blood and Haine ; in vain they drank. 
 Majestical and marvelous , 
 
 That forest's fearful holocaust ; 
 For upward into night aro.sev 
 
 The fierce gesticulating host ; 
 Baptizing rlarkness into day, 
 
 A hyphen linking eve to dawn ; 
 And all the clouds were in array 
 
 Like fleets aflame on seas unknown. 
 The bold .shores black with uvey ooze, 
 
 Austere, gigantic and grotesque, 
 With ajLiute caves concealing those 
 
 Dark souls, who sought (Jimmerinn dusk. 
 Anel when Diana's breath of white 
 
 Blent softly ovei- ledge and lake, 
 Thro' reeling shoals of Haky light 
 
 We followed in her western wake. 
 
 There was much time for thought, these men 
 
 Being silent in an alien land ; 
 With straniie surroundings wakened then 
 
 Mute wonder of their causes giand ; 
 And of the life we led ; its state 
 
 I know not yet, if good or ill : 
 
Ml'KlKL. 
 I 
 
 4;{ 
 
 RcaHoii is narrow, junl our fate 
 
 Is ot't»;n in another's will. 
 Some (juestions of tiu' world arose. 
 
 Mado pensive 1)V inipenilin*.^' niL;lit ; 
 Why (jeath-hcnt men to men are foes. 
 
 And foemen to I lie Loi'd of Lio'lit. 
 Why this dark race must pass away 
 
 Hy <lim oblivion suhdued, 
 A.S sullen night pursues the day, 
 
 From solitude to solitude. 
 Is there no differ<»nce to the Lord 
 
 Between a trilx^ of Ix-es »»• ants, 
 And tribes of men to naught restored, 
 
 VV^ith all their souls' eternal wants :" 
 Perchance all men aic? left to fail 
 
 Who know not of theii- Master's will, 
 Perchance no nation can prevail 
 
 Who worships God with savage skill ^ 
 We mused on themes not understood, 
 
 Of .some by soi-row remhired pure, 
 Whilst nations purchase peace in blood — 
 
 Sin, ami its origin obscure. 
 Haply all the.se are dim to show 
 
 That faith begins where knowhidge ends C 
 We also spake, iii accents low, 
 
 Of deathless love and distant friends. 
 And Muriel mused upon her past. 
 
 Made captive when alone she strayed, 
 Expecting every eve her last, 
 
 Yet of her very fears afraid. 
 Becau.se thev reverence faith, she .said, 
 
 From feai' I kept my forehead white ; 
 
I iili 
 
 * 
 
 44 MUKIKI,. 
 
 And helped the women, weaving V)rai(l 
 On doeskin moccasins at niofht. 
 
 At leucrth vou came — ah iov ! thev knew 
 The reason ofthv coming: so : 
 
 And now, Vieloved, tlie skies are blue, 
 Whatevei- way the storms may blow, 
 
 'Twere long to htur and vague to tell 
 
 Our journey — vaguer than a dream, 
 . . Until the Roman Mission bell 
 
 Resounded o'er their scarlet stieam. - 
 This dusky delegation sent 
 
 From Huron to St. Boniface, 
 Had welcome, i-ich with resting bhjut, 
 
 From brethi'en of the House of (^Ti-ate. 
 A feast there was of fragrant bread, 
 » Fruit, arid the tish of speckled shine ; 
 
 Delicious diink from Autumn l)l('d, 
 
 The immaterial amber wine. 
 Of fowl whose haunts the natives knew, 
 
 And sable beri'ies large of oirth : 
 
 i .-^ • * 
 
 With venison steak and herbous stew, 
 Fi'om lands uidiarvested, far north. 
 
 Then came a fathe)-, toga-stoled, 
 
 And iiave us to each other ; gay 
 Those bells from ancient turrets told 
 
 The tidings of our nuptial day. 
 There was a j)atient in that house 
 
 Who craved to see u> ere lie died ; 
 And, lo, this man is known of ns, 
 
 The recreant i»'uaTdian of my bride ! 
 
MURIEL. 
 
 M 
 
 Ravinii' in feverous unrest, 
 
 And by remorseful spectres stung, 
 Some wicked shape his soul "listressed 
 
 Sharp as <lead thorns in roses younii'. 
 
 -nV. 
 
 e. 
 
 h^'. 
 
 THE PATIENTS SONG. 
 
 ''She came when my spirit was glowing 
 
 For some thing celestial to woo ; 
 So I went to n)y ruin, not knowing ; 
 
 Alas, 'twas too late uiien I knew 
 Sin's pathway thro' vistas of roses. 
 
 Where svlvan-lush rivulets I'ol!, 
 Allures by love's chanson \vhost> close is 
 
 Ah, what shall I do with mv soul { 
 What good art thon, gold, to the dying. 
 
 What j)rotit hath folly, or hath 
 Crime peace in the wilderness Hying, 
 
 Or rest in the sliadow of death ^ 
 Unto wnmg is a recompense granted. 
 
 Or who has a right to control 
 A conscience disheartened and haunted ^ 
 
 O, what shall T do vith my soul ?" 
 
 A little ere his last repose 
 
 He asked tor vespers, slow of l.)reath ; 
 Thev sang of Calvary, and His woes 
 
 Who made His cross a bridge o"er death 
 
 "When Jesus deserted 
 By sinners, was slain. 
 His sacrifice parted 
 The curtain in twain, 
 
 M 
 
 I'll 
 
 1 
 
 _J 
 
4(> 
 
 MURIEL. 
 
 i 
 
 lii 
 
 ; ijil ; 
 
 i ) 
 
 So all who would lueiit 
 
 A purified heart, 
 Must suffer his spirit 
 
 From evil to part. 
 
 •'Tso seraphim glowing 
 
 In bliss by the throne, 
 Was worthy of showing 
 
 The way He has shown : 
 i) sacred Example 
 
 Be with us again, 
 And aid us to trample 
 
 The winepress of pain. 
 
 " His ani-els are tilling 
 
 With sacrament wine, 
 The soul that is willing 
 
 Itself" to resign. 
 So help us, () Givei- 
 
 Of all we should win, 
 To sever forever 
 
 The spirit from sin." 
 
 Awaie he soon would be the gue-st 
 
 (Jf those who dwell in saintly lands, 
 First to a father he confessed, 
 
 Then placed a casket in our hands. 
 A casket huge in Muriel's hands, 
 
 His trust to her from over sea ; 
 'Twas oak, and on its silver bands 
 
 The monogram engraved M. D. 
 Her name, the dying said, was Doane, 
 
 The scion of a royal line ; 
 
MIHIKI, 
 
 Tlie last, tht' loveliest, alone, 
 
 Kxcept tor me, and she is mine. 
 Ah, what an Ophir it contained, 
 
 What goodly prooi, and goMen gems, 
 Ruby and jacinth richly stained, 
 
 And topaz tit for diadems. 
 A pearly necklace tor a neci< 
 
 That did not need such charms as those, 
 By option of a foil or fleck. 
 
 As Vjeauty best by contrast shows. 
 The lovely heir to large estates, 
 
 Parks and stone halls in Albyn aUl, 
 Whereof a codicil relates 
 
 My lineage was also held : 
 Which learning lured me to retrace 
 
 My ancient Highland pedigree ; 
 And, lo, a fortune for our race. 
 
 From one who sleeps by Hoogla's sea. 
 Thus fortune gave rue ample gold, 
 
 A bride and parents living, yea. 
 Are we not ha))py now ? l>ehold 
 
 Their heads but not their hearts a>e grey. 
 They own a mansion near a shore, 
 
 Its lintels lush with many a vine ; 
 Stringed instruments, and tomes of lort* 
 
 Bv time (Muiched with wisdom's wine. 
 
 ft/ 
 
 By waters still where heavens depend 
 They wander now, while the past road, 
 
 By care eclipsed, but keeps in mind 
 The holy boldness of their God. 
 
 m 
 
 I'i 
 
Il 
 
 The cricket sings his dirj^es imiiiolestcil 
 Wlieie lissome; dancers hehl soft revehy. 
 
 The oxen of their yokes have heen <livesteil, 
 Anil all tlu' harvesteis are iii>\\v away." 
 
 "TlIK llAlMKl' HOLSK." V^HC 51. 
 
 J 
 
 1 
 

 XEbe IfDaunteb Ibousc 
 
 ^^\\ one of the '3IKo«'?aub £c4imi)^o. 
 
 •A-^* 
 
 " A jolly place in times of old. 
 But .something.' ails it now." 
 
 " O'er glimmei'ing rield.s of moonlit dews. 
 In vesture of the cliiise ariayed. 
 The hunter still tlie deer pursues, 
 The hunter and the deer a shade." 
 
 
 I'iiiie r>\. 
 
 '^^Y pathway led ine to an ancient niansioii, 
 J^- Deserted, wherefore tew remain to tell — 
 - A river bounds the valley's ojreen expansion 
 Of loveliness, yet sorrow here did dwell. 
 
 A sombre pile by all savt- year.s forsaken ; 
 
 And like sad eyes reflecting on their day 
 The panes look when at eve tiie blinds are shaken 
 
 With sounds that warn the wanderer awav. 
 
50 
 
 THK HAUNTED IIOUSK. 
 
 
 i 
 
 'Tvvas built ow tiers of stone in upward rauge.s, 
 Embrowued and battered by the blasts of old : 
 
 Seeming to muse upon the many changes 
 Within itself, where owls their pinions t'oM. 
 
 A tower for observation and a study 
 
 One wing contained which westerly .mrveyed 
 
 A landscape of lush verilure, dun and ruddy, 
 
 By forests fringed and flecked by trailing shade. 
 
 Time kindly gilds with moss the ruined walling 
 Of stones that propped ambition's lichened name : 
 
 From flowers of promised fruit the leaves dre falling, 
 As falls the snuft' from tapers once aflame. 
 
 Where is the tuberose gone ? the rose was given 
 An ea^er sign of more than words dare own : 
 
 The rose is memory's augel, and its heaven 
 Is in a poet's heart, and there alone. 
 
 Such flowers as fond ones gave when in yon garden 
 They roved in love's young glory 'neath its star, 
 
 Are orphan flowers of weeds which now no warden 
 Awakes to blame, for their sole neighbors are, 
 
 A pair of antlers o'er an archway standing, 
 A bower for rest when even lights the lea, 
 
 A boat half sunken near its reedy landing, 
 A rusty scythe upon an appl*i tree. 
 
 With this worn scythe some vanished hand did sever 
 The purple clover fi^m the field of green : 
 
 Another reaper gave him rest for ever, 
 
 And many summers o'er his bed have been. 
 
THE HAUNTED HOUSE, 
 
 :>! 
 
 Perchance he deeuied himself an inspiration, 
 Prophetic of why empires rise and fall ; 
 
 Perchance his science warred with revelation, 
 Or learning lured him to her lofty hall. 
 
 Ere thro' those avenues of leafy lustres, 
 
 With fruit-stained fingers came a maiden rare, 
 
 In love with Indian Summer's amber clusters 
 As an excuse for meeting witli him there. 
 
 For on a beech half wasted in the weather 
 Two names are carved by some enamored youth, 
 
 Sharing the while he fashioned them touether 
 A dream of endless tenderness ami truth. 
 
 Or havinof — who has nut ! dismissed for <lut\' 
 
 This idol and its glory with a sigh, 
 Oft mused upon eve's evanescent beauty, 
 
 Hope's symbol, fading in a lurid sky. 
 
 The cricket sings his dirges unmolested 
 Where lissome dancers held soft revelry, 
 
 The oxen of their yokes have been divested, 
 And all the harvesters are gone away. 
 
 Vet they have left the long unused utensils 
 Against the gate just where the work was done 
 
 Tis thus the peasant's plow, the painter's pencils. 
 The actors' robe survive the fame they won. 
 
 With harvest home this hall was often lighted, 
 Dancing and music ; and the ample board 
 
 Made Autumn cheerful ; travellers benighted 
 Found welcome here and went awav restored. 
 
 >. 
 
 ' s 
 
K 
 
 m 
 
 t9 
 
 Tin: IIAUNTKI) MOUWK. 
 
 Now mournful wiiKU amon^ abandoned chambers 
 Resound tlie autliem of departed days, 
 
 Whose nights have come like soot upon the embers 
 By the old hearth which nevermore shall blaze. 
 
 Thi; dancers are disp>>rse«.l, the music ended, 
 The laughter silent ajid the lovers gone, 
 
 With their sweet scliemes on wiiich so much depended, 
 And we are following after, one by one. 
 
 Yea we are following, smiling as we suffer. 
 Taking an active part in our own pain ; 
 
 Wliile every hour the rising tide grows rougher, 
 We fondly hope next day ill lull the main. 
 
 We still the craving cr}' of the heart's famine, 
 We hush the hurricane whose wreck is years ; 
 
 We hide the corpse that pains us to examine. 
 We close the tomb on hoi)e ; its empty biers 
 
 Move on like phantofn clouds across life's azure, 
 Above each dimpled vale and blue-reined glade; 
 
 rhey baffle all our art to seize or measure 
 Their mournful depths of loveliness and shade. 
 
 First they are tinted with the hues of heaven, 
 But like our hopes their transient tints decay ; 
 
 As we o'er life, they o'er the earth are driven, 
 Our prospects die their lustres pass away. 
 
 Leaving remembrance like a raven sitting 
 High on a dying yew-tree's loftiest limb, 
 
 Whose withered leaves before the tempest flitting 
 Bestrew the graves whereon our eyes grow dim. 
 
THE HAUNTKI) HOUSK. 
 
 n:\ 
 
 F')i' who ot all predestined to inherit 
 Life's dreamy dower did ever yet obtain 
 
 The peace, the holy lonoing of the spirit, 
 Or even paitly conqnei- human pain. 
 
 Ah, well I in every life some shadow lingers, 
 And long ere Death can raise liis hand to (•oiint 
 
 Oiir blasted years upon his bony fingers, 
 
 Hope's golden bowl lies bj'oken at the fount. 
 
 Tho' swift and sure our eaily.aims expire, 
 As if 'twere Fate's fiist purpose to destroy, 
 
 It may be by such crush ings we acquire 
 The wine of wisdom which comes not thro' joy. 
 
 So time to all revt^ls the painful story, 
 As farewell suns evolve seraphic hues ; 
 
 From nights of frost the forest gathers glory, 
 A glory tliat the suns to May refuse. 
 
 To make life atHuent like summer's ending, 
 Whose vales voluj)tuoiis dreamily repose 
 
 in ever-varying redolency blentling, 
 
 The year's tiaia, lo, the world's one rose, 
 
 An oritlamme, a crown for Fall's accession, 
 To his pied throne whereon Apollo, lord 
 
 Of light, and lawful heir to June's possession 
 With surplus lustres lavishly outpoured, 
 
 Has made the ivied solitude pathetic 
 
 Of ihis old mansion, crumbling stone by stone, 
 By flaunting gay festoons from base to attic — 
 
 V^ain lite ! for o'er tlie ruin time rolls on 
 
 « 
 
 
^^ 
 
 ill! 
 
 ; I 
 
 /III 
 
 54 
 
 Tin: IIAUNTKI) IIOUSK, 
 
 His swirling years with autiunn colors crested, 
 Where fiotsam liopes bestrew Death's phantom sliore. 
 
 While Pride pales gazing on the ghost-infested 
 Mysterious wharf by mortals called " No more." 
 
 () carnival of coloi-, stay forever ; 
 
 This dreamy Beulah let thy dwelling be ; 
 Begin the leign of peace ; could that river 
 
 That wafts all other things away, leave thee 
 
 To beautify bereavement.: Gentle Spirit ! . 
 
 Make those retl leafy lintels yet agaii» * • 
 
 The old passover ; lo, we would inherit 
 
 That land our fathers forfeited ; we faiu • 
 
 Would join yon cloud-like host that(*now are nearing 
 Eve's hallowed gateway of eniaptured rays ; 
 
 Harken the far-otf bells of Zion cheering 
 
 Those angels lost in worship back to praise ; " 
 
 Their very robes inspired by keen reflection 
 From beatific fanes and from the streams 
 
 That sanctify the City of Perfection, 
 With lavishment of sacradt)tal gleams. 
 
 They half translate the earth to heaven, beholding 
 
 The host seiaphically hymned away 
 Thro' doors of destinv divine, infoldini: 
 
 The awful twiliirht of eternitv 
 
 Beyond the distance of time's westward river, 
 Up to God's house, forever past recall, 
 
 Where death has darts no more ; but from his quiver 
 Lets sunless light, like Eden's foliage, fall 
 
I'HK IIAUNTKI) MorNK. 
 
 .).) 
 
 Oil tlie \viny;e«l lines at invocation : l)nrnini^ 
 Entrancin*^' chansons over pnlsin*^' air. 
 
 As from a liarp unseen whose holiest yearning 
 Is hushed because the harper is at praver. 
 
 Spirit of dreams ineffa'ole, hecomini;' 
 Discursive, let us hack into the trail ; 
 
 The vagrant Fancy is forever hunnning 
 
 From theme to theme, as bees on flowers legale. 
 
 There came a man, the l)urden of a ballad, 
 A noble from the sea-born Hebrides, 
 
 L(jrd of this haunted pile where spirits pallid 
 And necromancy dwell in mysteries. 
 
 The tale is told that in this mansion ghostly 
 He communed deep (*n deeds Ijy seeis foretold ; 
 
 And that he spent his lonely leisure mostly 
 On music and the mighty bards of old. 
 
 He was of those who bear for the transgression 
 
 Of former generations a dark fate, 
 Wherefore would force his child to the sup})ressioii 
 
 Of love lest she their doom disseminate. 
 
 She was an only daughter, snigs tradition. 
 All beautiful as poet's favorites are, 
 
 And gifted with the loveliest disposition 
 That ever mused beneath an evening star. 
 
 Her star that is the Alpha in Leoni, 
 Tho' far eclipsed and wan, was shining still 
 
 Over Viola, from her fond Zanoni, 
 Severed awhile by fate's all-severing will. 
 
 
m 
 
 AH 
 
 TIIK MAUNTKU MOUMK. 
 
 ' 
 
 All, slie was fair and full of inutL- letlectiou, 
 The skies have fscarce produced u purer \<>\v 
 
 TliHii heaved hei- snowy bosom ivm perfection, 
 Killtid her lar^'e eyes oi- urgeu ner feet to love. 
 
 Her clieeks were like the light thio' rose leaves sifted 
 A (jrrecian face with hyacinthine hair ; 
 
 lUit O, her eyes, e'en liaplnu'l, the gifted, ■ 
 
 Would fail to fix t'lie feeling living there, 
 
 So full of sad far hope, as ij' foreseeing, 
 
 Celestial charms where common minds see woe; 
 
 An artist, loving every link of Ijeing 
 
 From the gnat's wing to the n *'d comet's glow. 
 
 Hei- paintings were of pools wlu,.. .,Kies are golden. 
 
 A paraphrase of heaven, the floral throng ; 
 She sang quaint ballads made by minstrels olden. 
 
 And could at times indite a hopeful song. 
 
 • viola's SON(i. 
 
 "An aura hovel's over 
 
 The early blooming thorn, 
 The freshness of white clover, 
 
 The fragrant silk of corn. 
 Will strange leaves come and cover 
 
 The trees wdien these are gone ^. 
 Or for an absent lover 
 
 Will coming time atone ? 
 
 " My heart, like Ruth, is gleaning 
 Hope's fallen grain ; and .see, 
 
 Night shades reveal the sheening 
 Of stars from rlawn that flee. 
 
Illi; IIALNTKh IIOISK. 
 
 So distance ititervmiin<,' 
 BetAVcun my hnc and inf, 
 
 May liavt! like tlioins a ineaiiiiiu. 
 Of" loses yet to he. 
 
 "We dwell 'iKiutli aiieii skies. loVe, 
 
 And yet, so near at heart, 
 1 heai" thy fond replies, love. 
 
 When asking where thou art. 
 Thy lips are on my eye.s, love, 
 
 Thv kisses in uiv heart, 
 Our paitino- was unwise, love, 
 
 Ah, wherefore did we part i* " 
 
 :.7 
 
 How like a woman to sini;' thus, reeeivinn- 
 Solace from thoi'ns when roses fade away 
 
 Her constancy in desolation cleaving 
 Firmly to care, like vines around chicav. 
 
 O woman, thou art blamed for being blameless, 
 Thy love is mercy's answer to man's prayer ; 
 
 But, Calunuiy, thy verdicts are so shameless, 
 That Honor aches to Imn thee, and to war 
 
 On Slander, Malice and on Supposition, 
 
 The trinity of misconception, who 
 Steal peace and stab with poison on eonunissiun 
 
 To mar the i)urity they never knew. 
 
 But interfering with a maid's att'ection, 
 ■ Save to advise, is not of much avail ; 
 They set their faces in their heart's direction 
 
 Tho' Death stands at tbe door and points to bale. 
 
 
i 
 
 i i 
 
 hS 
 
 THE HAUNTKl) IIOUSK. 
 
 ili'J 
 
 [ |i 
 
 And thus it is the melancholy niuses 
 
 80 deeply sympathize when true hearts meet ; 
 
 They seize the harp in |)raise of lovers ruses, 
 Aware that all save pain is incomplete. 
 
 So she sought out alone those mute attractions 
 That balsam pensive souls by bush and shore ; 
 
 Where conscience seize's life's minute transactions 
 And daily promises t<» sin no more — 
 
 » 
 
 Not that she sinned, but it is beneficial 
 
 To meditate betimes and muse alone ; 
 Men's fanes are moral wheii not prejudicial, 
 
 But solitude is nearer the unknown. 
 
 Y»3t, tho' g*rand minds from holy wilds inherit 
 
 The primogeniture of ISature, .still 
 In every Imman heart and singing spirit 
 
 It leaves a void some loftier love must fill : 
 
 Which teaches that the atheist, contendino- 
 
 Gainst healing faith, has strewn vain whims abroatl, 
 
 For«:etful that we're all forever blendin^- 
 Unfathonied facts ot nature and of God. 
 
 Tho' reason, with the amplest infoi'mation 
 Earth gives, can scarcely prove what is to be 
 
 Bey<3ud the awful verge of revelation, 
 
 Which faith thro' Death will shortly let us see. 
 
 Whereas creation's alien, Doubt, is drifting 
 
 Dark thro' unharbored seas, tho' well he kno^^•s 
 
 Sin-tempted stoinis come suddenly, uplifting 
 His bartjue, to dash it where no beacon glows. 
 
THE UAUNTKi* IIOUSK, 
 
 .")!) 
 
 So doubt divorcL'd these three, and, haviii;^' parted, 
 Dispersed them diverse ways to banishment ; 
 
 While Pride smiled on, as if no liope were thwarted, 
 In exile from tlie heart ; the heart wiiicli sent ' 
 
 Viola roving by this moving- liver, 
 
 Having few friends, and those illitei'ate : 
 
 And there she met witli him from whom to sever 
 [n other days, made life disconsolate. 
 
 'Twas in that season when the vales are veinal, 
 A gentle rain had left the eveninu' skies 
 
 As lovely as the vestibide eteinal, 
 The pearly entrance into Paradise. 
 
 Some opal vapors floating in empyrean. 
 
 Like shuttles tleet, imparted colors soft 
 That made more beautiful the water tyrian. 
 
 With Dian's duplication from ah)tt 
 
 Anchored in light among the isles enchanted, 
 
 As gardens hung in Babel ere its doom : 
 Large water-lilies by the Lord transjtlanted, 
 • All fre.sh from Life's one stream in Eden's bloom. 
 
 Whose wavy avenues those lovers wendetl, 
 Mute with the majesty by Nature made — 
 
 Ah, from such scenes, when all save niemorv's endi-d 
 Ijove can see sunshine in the nudst of shad*'. 
 
 U sacred meeting by tlie moon -lit water ' 
 With arms athrill each near the other drew ; 
 
 Gieatjoy was his from whom her sire had brought lier 
 To find once juore his early love and tiiu-. 
 
60 
 
 THE IIAUNTKI) IIOUSK. 
 
 I 111' 
 i HI I 
 
 \u 
 
 () iiiiAy god of gladness and of roses ! 
 
 For thee unpaid men dare all deeds of pain : 
 FomIs call thee frenzy, l)ut thine urn incloses 
 
 Their dust, whose lives, if happy, had been vain. 
 
 O liends may weep if e'er they fall to thinking 
 Of all we might be, ai jf what we are ; 
 
 Instead of soaring, we aru suffering, sinking, 
 < 'aught up in passion's whirlwind — drifted far 
 
 O'er pathways paved with gods that once were idols, 
 And hopes dethroned that had been death to win, 
 
 When guilt's wild cohorts, scorning wisdom's biidles, 
 Bound madly o'er the wilderness of sin ; 
 
 Urged by a fierce desirt) to rend asunder 
 The inward agony from outward show; 
 
 It costs a life to rectify each blunder, 
 Hence we excel in little else than woe. 
 
 For who believes the livery alluring 
 
 That love assumes is oft a snare ? ah, who 
 
 Like him wears robes too bright for earth's obscuring, 
 Whose rended garments are forever new ? 
 
 Yet, heavenly orphan, born but to be thwarted, 
 Burn not thy sacred myrrh on Folly's shrine, 
 
 For tho' by pain or destiny distorted, 
 
 All that the earth has left of heaven is thine ; 
 
 V ■ 
 
 Then, as a brook, its margin undermining, 
 
 Wliieh lets the landfall dam it from the main, 
 
 Delay shall lift thee up to be a shining 
 Mirror of mt)rn from a far loftier jdaiu. 
 
THE IIAINTKI) lloUSK. 
 
 So she depart(^(.l with her loyal chosen 
 In spirit ^earninji hoth to stay an.l have. 
 
 * 
 
 So hard it is to have the t'eelin(»-s fVo/cn 
 
 Between two foes to both of wiioni we ck-ave. 
 
 A farewell token on an arbor table 
 
 She left her father: strange forebodings came 
 On him observing it ; at first unable 
 
 To break the seal ; who lias not felt the same 
 
 Unseen arrest i* as if a ghost should sallv 
 
 From graves imlanterned by a moon, remote ? 
 
 Tis not unusual foi- the lieart to dally 
 With destiny enveloped in a note : 
 
 ()l 
 
 ''Thy loving piesence nmst I leave. 
 
 As Dian leaves the dav ^ 
 The stars at lier departure oiit^ve : 
 
 bv not more stern than the\-. 
 () that those parting times were oer. 
 
 And thou at rest with \nv, 
 The tiiture has no joy in store. 
 
 J)ear one. like meeting thee. 
 
 "If in a river shines a star. 
 A lone and lovely flame, 
 ^ Tho' clouds oiiseure they do not maV, 
 Nor is the stream to blame ; 
 So may my hope, tho' dimmed awhile 
 
 By duty's cloudy train, 
 Rejoice to find misfortune smile 
 Like roses after lain. 
 
f.2 
 
 THE HAUNTKD MOUyK. 
 
 "There is a liojht aljout a vose 
 
 Which only love can see, 
 O let me feel thy mercy sho^^^s 
 
 My sjiirit thus to thee : 
 But if thy soul should still op]>ose 
 
 The hope I fail to tell, 
 It will be as a vine where orows 
 
 Remembrance, farewell.' 
 
 Dazed he ])erused this last of love, her token ; 
 
 He had l)eeu hurt by destiny before, 
 As an aged tree by liohtning lately broken 
 
 Reveals an ancient scar within its core. 
 
 l)a,ys and dim nights elapsetl of foi-est travel 
 Before they reached their lowly island houir; 
 
 Time rolling on as usual t(» unravel 
 
 Joy's few frail threads from grief's eternal loom. 
 
 So years turned yore unpaidoned; for position 
 Makes many a parent mar their favorite's t'at<'. 
 
 And when the slim Viola gained pei mission 
 To find her father 'twas, alas, too late. 
 
 Gone was he, gone the father, and her lover. 
 
 When she returned ; all, save her ghost, are gi>ne 
 
 That sometimes comes, the giave to murmur over 
 Of the unfriendlv father and the son. 
 
 Her cheeks aie moist, like dew upon a lily. 
 With introspective tears ; love's innate <lebt ; 
 
 Her small white feet are oft in dewbeams chilly. 
 Waiting the resurrection of regret. 
 
THK H.VUNTKf) UOCSK. 
 
 G.l 
 
 \n such thin robes is she ; a hazv i'usiiiij 
 Of wavy vapor wove, her spirit's liglit : 
 
 She wakes the thought, in love with her wan Jinisi»iu;, 
 If it be wrong to woo a wedded sprite :' 
 
 Foi' 'tis averred her vagrant ghost has liaunted 
 This house for years, its only owner now : 
 
 And many men have heard, at ntidniglit chanted, 
 Most plaintive songs, and mournful, uttered low. 
 
 'Tis told, by sceptics, that the sound increases 
 When rude winds rub the brandies of a tree 
 
 Against the gables ; such a foolish thesis 
 
 Has no foundation, ghosts the neighl)ors see. 
 
 There's fascination in an eerie story ; 
 
 We own the ban.shee kin by turning pah' : 
 'Tis awful to receive a guest from glory, 
 
 A friend beloved, it may be, out of bale. 
 
 When stalwart pines into the storm extending. 
 Bow down as with a tribute to the dead, 
 
 A pall of fragrant fronds with yellow blending 
 Above the roses that were lately red. 
 
 And Autumn winds are weiid as if bewailing 
 That they have left the landscape desolate; 
 
 But their regret, like on»s, is vain as hailing 
 A ,sunken .ship ; that which is past is fate. 
 
 The tale is told: like Fall the dream is fading 
 
 Where the unfinished future s restless surge 
 
 Lures on the days, those ships of spectral ladii 
 
 'y- 
 
 Whence sonu and baid mav nevermore emerye. 
 
»u 
 
 THE HAUNTKI) HOUSK. 
 
 I often wantlei" at the twilioht hour 
 
 Near yon (Um nook but never stay at niglit, 
 
 They may not care to meet me in that bovver, 
 1 therefore leave thro' reverence, not fright. 
 
 'Tis gloaming now, the sun quits heaven's ex})ansioii, 
 Fnecrtain shades move eerie down the dell — 
 
 A {)re-engagement urges my attention, 
 So, for a little season, fare thee well. 
 
IRiaGava jFalls. 
 
 striking tlie electric cliain whevewitli we aie daikly ImuukI. 
 
 — till roil. 
 
 Ages ere mortal eye beheld thy gloiy, * 
 
 ■|"hy Hood made music to the listening stars, 
 And angels paused in wondei- as they passed. 
 
 -H> r. E. H. Dfinirl. f) /). 
 
 m 
 
 .^OMPANION of Jehovah hadst thou been. 
 ^^ Had Nature brought thee t'ortli iu Palestine. 
 ^ By Lebanons large ceiUii's — where thn Queen 
 Of Sheba's incense burned on the .same shrine 
 As Solomon's whose Temple was divine — 
 And addad glory to Jerusalem. 
 
 But we have need of thee : men still inelijie 
 To sell God's fane.s— thy billows batHe them, 
 Making the clouds of heaven thy glorious diadem. 
 
6H 
 
 MAGAKA FALLS. 
 
 To the old world was «riven a syndto! how, 
 
 But unto us a luore majestic gift, 
 A cataiact of thunder-storms, to tlow 
 
 Forever and forever; strorii,^ to lift 
 
 A dirue ahove <lestructioii ; suruino- swift 
 Thro' clouds that drape its glory's unrevealetl 
 
 Sublimit\' like Horeb : here niav drift 
 Time's immemorial millions, hut the shield 
 Of solitude remains, a Deity C(»ncealed. 
 
 Theie was a time when not one ray of light 
 
 Illumed the awfid firmament of old, 
 ^ons of days ere man, C'reation's night. 
 
 Ere Earth from her red furnaces extolled 
 
 Heat-heaving hills to heaven sublime, or rolled 
 Huoe Amazons in darkness to the sea 
 
 Thro' channels ploughed by icebergs; then, behold, 
 JSol break his elouds ; Behemoth was, and he, 
 Lord of a world of light, he came an<l looked on thee. 
 
 Being unworthy ol" his first estate, 
 
 So leads the record tViat we still believe, 
 
 Therefore an angel thrust him from the gate 
 Of Paradise in poverty to grieve, 
 Until a greater came, wdiom to leceive 
 
 Is all this w^oild can know of excellence — » 
 Excepting Nature's teachings ; these retrieve 
 
 The many ills imposed on us by sense, 
 
 Evils which batHe here and goad the spirit hence. 
 
\IA<iAI!A FALLS. ■ • C^~ 
 
 Because we stray too long from Nature s calling. 
 
 Instead of bread too long befjueath a .stone 
 To our own starving spirit, bowed in galling 
 
 Fardels (,f agony by sin c]as])ed on. 
 
 None other of creation works, not one, 
 So adverse to its good : life's wine and corn 
 
 Bartered to Mammon who would tax the sun, 
 Aye, |)lace a toll-bar at the gate of morn, 
 For the assassin self, whose epitaph is scorn. 
 
 But here tvvixt cedar cliff's and ledges bold 
 These sinless waters gloriously steer, 
 
 Proud of their cause as were the martyrs old. 
 Impatient for the final plunge ; for here 
 Some fascinating spirit drowns the feai- 
 
 Which nature feels in danger, therefore come 
 The swift transfiguration to revere 
 
 With overpowering w^orship ; here make room 
 
 Deep in the soul for themes that dignify our doom. 
 
 Here time is never still ; ao-es to aijes 
 
 Call forth the chronicles which they have made 
 
 lunnutable upon these rcjcky pages, 
 
 God's hieroglyphs unto his «<eers displayed] 
 Thro' eighteen hundred years of hopes delayed. 
 
 Yet Nature's unpaid priesthood cries aloud 
 Directly from its maker, ur. dismayed 
 
 By all the creeds that cramp, or vespers vowed, 
 
 That she was never made to be to error bowed. 
 
I 
 
 4.' 
 
 H8 MACAI.'A KAI.I.S. 
 
 But they aro baids of false liuinility 
 
 Who deem tliee oreMtor tlian nuinkiiMl: imt so: 
 There is another verdict : it may lie 
 
 Degeneracy liumbles ns, and woe ; 
 
 Still, nov thy scjunding deep noi' upward How 
 Can ever ecjual David's harp that calls 
 
 Man's bondage to CJod's liberty; and lo, 
 We challenge tliee with Sliakespear's lore and Paul's: 
 Nay, Burns and Bunyan likewise over-par thee, Falls. 
 
 Like stars old empires fade, or as seaweed 
 Drifting away ; but here stern Time delays 
 
 Engrossed by mutability of speed, 
 
 Waving his gonfalon of uorueous i-avs 
 Over the ever-thundering vohnne's sprays, 
 
 After its plunge abysmal, like a new 
 
 Shekinah, lurini>' men IVoui desert wavs 
 
 Of doubt and troubled worship to the true ; 
 
 (Jpen thy gates, O Time, and Israel reconstrue. 
 
 Wlien Satan showed tlie kingdon)s of the world, 
 And all their glory to the Son of God, 
 
 Wert thou among the number that was whirled 
 As in a panorama vast and broad, 
 Our Lord's ambition tempting ? those He trod 
 
 Like to a vat whose lees are human thrones. 
 'Twere ill for us if God had gone the road 
 
 Which Judah wished 'gainst Rome and Gentile zones 
 
 Instead of doing good, repaid by Calvary's groans, 
 
MA<.\I<\ KAI.I.s. 
 
 •;«> 
 
 s : 
 
 Is. 
 
 Now o'er Nianaia tlu- rainliow's iMys 
 
 Baptizod ill Itcaiity lK'jnii> uIohl; tlu' skies; 
 
 'J'he iiiistv tas lion ol" it> Hussy si.ravs 
 
 Ts marvt'Uously woven with straiij^c dyos, 
 Smiling aliovc tiie troubled Kail that Hies 
 
 From its trenieiidons precipice of stone 
 As if tVoiii heaven, a vapory sacrifice, 
 
 Enriched by tiowers (»t' light, and lichens lone; 
 
 And eerie forms set-ni near,as if they would be kn<»svn. 
 
 For when the sun wheels down the western air. 
 
 And starry darkness nestles on the <leen, 
 Dim Shapes of shade glide forth as if to share 
 
 Thine immaterial rites while mortals sleejt. 
 
 A poet's soul wouM join rhem. for they k(M'|» 
 Few secrets from their lovers, nor disdain 
 
 His lone investigation who would leap 
 Life's bounds to gaze on mystery ; or gain 
 A portion of then' power and |»athos, but in vain. 
 
 A small flower safely near thy uraudeur ijflows, 
 A blush in every zephyi-waftetl kiss ; 
 
 While Erie's flood that can wild storms oppose 
 Is hurtled from thy haughty precipice 
 To howl hope's diige like th(3se, from their abyss. 
 
 Who gave Chi'ist gall, and fashioned Tasso's ci^U. 
 Lo, Gabriel's final blast shall be a hiss 
 
 To such as made of Dante's life a hell — 
 
 " Spirit of God in Milton, was it well ? " 
 3 
 
 III 
 
 
 .1 -, 
 
H. 
 
 70 
 
 N1A«.AKA FALLH. 
 
 fji 
 
 1! 
 
 i 
 
 No hiU'd may tell tliine ariswi-r, tbo' its tones 
 Sncm full of vctrihutioii : aiitluMiis det-p 
 
 Whoso diapason niaUcs tlio rocky zones 
 Shake like the Iminan \w.i\\'t in t!onhle<l sNiep, 
 When tears bedew the eyes that will not ueej) 
 
 In any waking a<^(>ny; the ni-oiuid 
 
 So shakes, as if an earthquake f(»rth would leap; 
 
 Oi" an aroused Gamaliel to wound I urofoun 1 • 
 
 Their foes who teach mankin<l <leep lore and love 
 
 (rieat lives are thus, Niagara, like thee; 
 
 Thy fall in glory's spray ascends on high, 
 Humbled to heaven, by loosing self set free, 
 
 And from the deep arlorns the summei* sky 
 
 Above the deluge bow's auroral dye, 
 With tints attributed to angels' wings 
 
 For whose companionship the poets sigh, 
 Tired of material men and fortune's stings, 
 Having scarce any choice savt.^ cliange of sutt'erinss. 
 
 Then wake, thou emblem of .Vp, , 'ypsf. 
 
 Thy thunder-harp •' .( to increase 
 The glory from that l where (iaoriel dips 
 
 His pinions of perfect i >n. ven Peace. 
 
 Men of degraded motive hourly cease ; 
 Thine exultation liveth, only stream 
 
 With storms of thine own stirring, like the sea's ; 
 Translate some part of Time's unuttered dn an. 
 Wake the millennial psalm immaculate, supreme ; 
 
M.\(i\l!\ h\l,l,S. 
 
 1 
 
 
 Aii'l ii>k tln' )tiiL;i*l stainliiiL: in tlic snii 
 
 Kor out! iiiort' s\ inhol tVoni creation s Lord : 
 When Ariiiagt'ddnti s Nvait'are sluill l»e done, 
 
 If licavcn and I'artli will !••' ot one accord. 
 
 And happiness t'or«'vernH)re restored 
 To this strange star called wormwood, which is Karth. 
 
 Where thr elect wax gory with the swoi'd 
 In their sharp conflict of the second hirtli, 
 Before the lastvial'swratli is poun'd.as tlion art. forth. 
 
 For tliy >ole rival is the stream of time, 
 
 The nnknowii river greater than tlie known, 
 
 Yet both mav fail at once; for the snhlimc , 
 
 Of .seraphs sware to John on Patmos lone. 
 With hands npra'i.«ed towards the starry zon< . 
 
 That time shall he no more, the stars shall fall 
 Like the searetl fig tree's fruit from branches blown 
 
 By fervency of fire, and sin will call 
 
 For refuge to thy rocks an<] Hnd thet* not at all. 
 
 -II 
 
;i! i 
 
 Xunbt's Xane. 
 
 
 ^V^^TS sad to see a poor mute creature die, 
 
 A small bird maimed, an ea.a;le's voiceless pains; 
 A nation's death 's more desolate ! ah, why 
 Does he, great Homer, blazon forth liis strains 
 Of fell aggression and perpetual chains ? 
 Banned should ambition and its lauiels be 
 
 If they have bourgeone<l under sanguine rains ; 
 Yet thro' two thousand vears of carnaoe he 
 Rolls his corpse-freighted fame like Ganges to the sea. 
 
 They made themselves a foe without a cause 
 And hither strode to battle by the stream. 
 
 Niagara, whose awful grandeur draws 
 
 The pilgrims from all nations ; here to dream, 
 Inspired by the supernal with a theme 
 
 Whose voice vicUn-iouslv called, and calls 
 Compatriots forth to freedom ; for we deem 
 
 Such an interpretation <lo thy walls 
 
 Of stone and water still proclaim, resistless Falls. 
 
LUNDY S LANE. 
 
 I •> 
 
 They never gave a reason for their wrong 
 
 To brethren in whose breast the selfsanK- hloocl 
 Is (juick to crush oppression, and who lonn' 
 
 With equal ar<lor to advance th<. good ; 
 
 Yet, having no incentive for a fend, 
 Across that mighty water swarrned amain, 
 
 While midnight rolled a mist o'er tield and flood. 
 Strong thousands, foiled Ity such as dare maintain 
 Our own and England's flag on famous Lundy's Laue. 
 
 Save for Niagara's voice, the night was void ; 
 
 Resemblinii' ebonv the forest stood, 
 Still as a panther ere he hath destroyed 
 
 The foe who dares invade his lairing l)rood. 
 
 We scarce believe man's nature thirsts for bloo^l, 
 But deem, when men do sanguine things in shade. 
 
 War is a nation's madness, fierce of mood : 
 How erst account for hosts in dark parade, 
 Aggressive, without cause in kindretl gore to wade '. 
 
 Tlien «^ame tiie strong men from the wnldernt^ss, 
 
 The savage full of fierceness hither came, 
 With Brant cojivened in vengeance to redress 
 
 His outraged people's wrongs by sword and tlami'. 
 
 Then man}- a damsel, many a reverend dame 
 Spared their most cherished to that huid Lane 
 
 And watched with such suspense as hatli no name, 
 But is sheer agony of loyal pain : 
 They were rewarded all, een by beloved ones slain. 
 
 I.i 
 
f I 
 
 I 
 
 74 
 
 LUNDYS LANE. 
 
 Above the strife arose a smokv scrttn 
 
 And hid that hill of l)attle ; all day long 
 War's fierv bolts were hurled the hosts between. 
 
 For right was thrice outnumbered bv' the vvroiiu'. 
 
 Yet victory at nightfall stood among 
 Our dead and living heroes. Who sliall rni^f 
 
 A dirge for those or unto these a song ' 
 Who gave oui- millions libertv alwavs ! 
 A kingdom's their remead above a poet"> praise. 
 
 Obedient to the fifth connnandment heie 
 
 My muse would laud a j)arent's deeds that <iay, , 
 
 Tho' sire and siuger both may shortly share 
 Oblivion's flood whose famous are as spray, 
 Which each oncoming wave shall wash away ; 
 
 Tho' he in honored war upheld the helm. 
 The semi-mortal helm of Deity, 
 
 And helped that day redeem his native lealin 
 
 Transpierced by alien spears that did not overwhelm. 
 
-^ 
 
 Stoni2 CrecN. 
 
 05^ HERE is another scene without a stone 
 
 ^i\lij/ Not far from blue Ontario's yellow sand, 
 <^ A vale that is not lovely, scarcely known 
 In its own neighborhood ; no column grand 
 Proclaims war's tryst, yet there brave Harvy planned 
 
 The rescue of a Province in the night 
 
 From Wynder who had thousands at command, 
 
 Who cannon had full charged and bayonets bright, 
 
 And with whom Chandlier's hosts unhorsed and waited 
 light. 
 
 'Twas on a sultry June, (Janadian night 
 
 Serene in starry glory, yet obscure, 
 And unsuspicious as a rose of blight 
 
 That scene reposed in slumber, infant pure. 
 
 If angels worship justice they «iid lure 
 Its influence auspiciously just then; 
 
 For, save some puroling vapors, heaven demure 
 Smiled on the comin^ • >ry of that glen ; 
 And, haply for our land, let sleep those murderous men. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ■'\ 
 
 U 
 
76 
 
 STONY CHEKK. 
 
 Oue league of hilLs away toward the west 
 
 A bartil of pati'iots that sclfsaiiic time, 
 Harvy and liis tired host ])art(»ol< of rest. / 
 
 As told the night was lovely as the clime 
 
 Tliat broods above Arabia sublime ; 
 A sky whose calruness lures us to i'V(jke 
 
 The angel in our nature ; as some rhyme, 
 Or song that brings back chiMhood to unyoke r^r(3i--. 
 Life's burdens — soon resumeti — so soon these warrio^-^ 
 
 And noiselessly left their nocturnal glade, 
 
 And darkly strode towards their foeujen armed ; 
 
 They scarce could find a ])athway thro' the shade 
 Of shrub-obstructed gorges ; yet, uidiarmed, 
 They reached the inner sentinel ; alarmed 
 
 He Q'ave his signal — then V)egan the strife 
 Between two nations who together swarmed 
 
 Like billows gainst a reef when ocean's rife 
 
 Witli noise of deadly note, an empire's death or life. ' 
 
 On Wynder's lair those wari'ing patriots sprang, 
 Their country's ransom — there they struck, and \o ! 
 
 Night paled in terror of the shock, the clang 
 Of sabres, brightened by the gory flow 
 From loins of three-ply adversaries low, 
 
 By horsemen tram [)ed where thund'ring cannon wheel, 
 And number-marring muskets thin the foe 
 
 Like grass cut down to stubble by the steel 
 
 Of champion pioneers, impetuousl}' leal. 
 
STONY CRKEK. 
 
 77 
 
 Then noiii their foiests came the (in.'a<led civ 
 
 Of Indians vindicating usage dire ; 
 And from their summits Hames of victory 
 
 Illumed the lurid woods with leagues of file, 
 
 As eastward fast the routed foe retire, 
 Till nature failed them, weary of that war, 
 
 Bv calm Ontario : who could less desire ^ 
 This land, whose flag s untrammeled as of yore, 
 Is free from Nootka Sound to Race's extieme shore. 
 
 A nation's life it was, and is the pride 
 
 Of the victorious still. O'erwhelming odds 
 W(ire vanquished, so they fled awa}' oi- died. 
 
 Some fled away ere morning many rod>> ; 
 
 Our fathers buried some 'neath vernal sods, 
 And there they slumber in that sylvan vale 
 
 Lulled b}'^ lone Whip-poor-wills, while all their chids 
 With orange flowers are fjilt since that \\\f\ o'alo 
 W*as showered in sheer defence of tho.se who did prevail. 
 
 Such was the stubborn struggle, born to l)ti 
 
 In consequences grander than of 3; ore 
 Was Salamis or fierce Thennopyhe ; 
 
 More j)oteut tho' less afliuent of gore. 
 
 Freedom, glorious upon any shore, 
 Tho' born in blood and nurtured in distress ! 
 
 And now, since those who won thee war no more, 
 The few remaining fortune should redress 
 With all their pride may take or tardy \'',in\v express. 
 
!ti! 
 
 Canaba. 
 
 A.I U) tile J'olar .star they tiiiji 
 Who bravo a pathless .sea, 
 
 So the oppressed in secret luoui u. 
 Dear native land for thee I 
 
 Iff /in }f. Jo/uKoii. .Vf'ii/nij. 
 
 And hills all ricli with l)lo.ssonied tree> 
 And fields witli pioniised corn." 
 
 i 
 
 1 1. 
 
 i^^^f, 
 
 fOME to this ijiuunfcain in the Jtai vest time, 
 And marvel why so many <lo not come. 
 - Pitv a tabernacle so sublime 
 Should be devoid of worshippers : its dcme 
 A hemisphere where foreigners liavc nunv 
 
 Their ancient evils to obliterate, 
 And live in liberty's eternal blooni ; 
 
 Whose commerce from the east to west elate, 
 Majestically sails : behold is it not greMt '. 
 
CANADA. 
 
 79 
 
 Tliis laud the sun sees fit to rendei- fair 
 As any to the travelled winds revealed ; 
 
 As for her streams, and lakes, none lovelier 
 Have ever to a patriot appealed : 
 
 Ontario, whose elder sisters yield • 
 
 Honor ungrudged, for she is nobly blest, 
 
 Because the good her buckler is and shield, 
 Kings of the sea send gold at her behest, 
 The north yields upits fur and gems tocrownhercnjst. 
 
 Tho' full of quiet now, thy veins have shed 
 
 Saiiguine vitality for freedom's sake ; 
 Then fell thy loyal and unlau relied dead 
 
 That time Gaul's shrieking eaule flew to take 
 Its putrid feast insatiate and slake 
 
 Its thirst of blood from Eurojie's cringing kings, 
 Till surfeited it slept — too late — awake ! 
 
 Fi'oze to the drifting meal — the rapid swiugs 
 
 Both to the abyss, behold, in vain Gaul lifts her wings I 
 
 While we in triumph flourish ; this new world 
 Has peace in all her borders and each field ; 
 
 But trouble fills the old with trembling ; hurled 
 Her cities are by earthquakes, isla!ids yield, 
 
 Java and Ischia, into deeps concealed. 
 
 With all their shrieking thousands, as from hand 
 
 One casteth stones in streams, and all is stilled. 
 Wars, plagues, and dynamite, a dreadful baud 
 Fill up the fatal list, but peace is in our land. 
 
 
so 
 
 CANADA. 
 
 i'i 
 
 Yet England's statesmen scorn this clime and lore 
 
 Jn envy of our indepen<lent path, 
 And ask contemptuously, as once of yore ; 
 
 (Jan any good thing come from Nazarotli '. 
 But time will answer with no word of wrath, 
 
 Awake who " learn to labor and to wait,' 
 Gain most, and leave an ampler aftermath 
 
 Of fame, and fortune, to their sons and state ; 
 
 For spite of rulers vile, we also dare be great. 
 
 Thi-ee titnes a thousand loyal men and strong. 
 Left lauds I'ebellious, homes beloved, rich loom.s, 
 
 Thro' ])athless wildernesses wandered long. 
 
 Here in more liberal shores to hew them homes 
 
 In dwellings of big trees, in wintry glooms ; 
 Denied of many gifts men cherish most, 
 
 (vncheered by her for whom they here did come ; 
 Son^ (jf these men arc we, and 'tis our boast : 
 What other realm so born, or bom on such a coast :* 
 
 t 
 
 North star of many nations — despots drag 
 
 Shoreward the old world's ships in search of peace. 
 
 Be thou their beacon ; let thv welcome flajx 
 \\'oo them with refuge after troubled seas ; 
 
 The Jew, the African, the vague Chinese. 
 
 ( 'ome from the shores whose oceans ever foani. 
 
 Here in unhindered plenty to increase, 
 
 And pine in bonds no more. This is the home i i 
 Where slaves have never been and despots meet their 
 
TO A RKVKRKVI) KKIKNU. 
 
 81 
 
 Oi- make their chart our Bible, like the sun. 
 
 That goodly eompas.s of the sky, to guide 
 Time's sailors to eternity when done 
 
 With rash ambition or unfeeling ]>ride. 
 L(jok likewise past those vernal vales where giidc 
 
 Hues which seem angels clothed in majesty 
 Vet are but streams in radiant zephyrs dyed. 
 
 In lands so boundless day and night can be 
 
 L'ncramped between its eastward and its western sea. 
 
 Co a 1Rcvcccn^ ifricn^. 
 
 i\ 
 
 H r|% s brow appears like eloquence enthroned. 
 ^^ Who is more kind than he to make our cla\ 
 
 Lovely as earth by joyful Jun(.> enzoned :* 
 He sweeps all creeds from immortality, 
 As night is banished by the god of day, • 
 
 Till scoffing sceptics bow abashed to heaven, 
 
 Or suik like waves hurled from high rocks in spray, 
 
 Down to the depths whence they have vainly stiivcn, 
 
 While multitudes i-evere those gifts so grandly given. 
 
 O, for a faith like his, to comprehend 
 The hiddei. and the high : of maidiness 
 
 Earth's noblest sample : eager to befi-iend 
 The need}'^ in the .season of distress. 
 
 The soul's Shekinah in Doubt's wilderness 
 . Where every step is down ; who would not bless 
 
 The hand that lifts and leads with such pure power 
 
 From out those arid caves where sin lairs to devour. 
 
 m 
 
 .'Hi 
 
II 
 
 Manitoba. 
 
 Accoriling to Hcv. .Joseph \Vil<l, h, l>.. Miinitoha is to be tlie Ej»ypt 
 of corn iji tlif coining' struugle soon to take place in Kurope. 
 
 'HERE'S a sound of tht^ tiauipliiii^ of horses 
 -iVV^ And a nishino- of slu))s and trains, 
 cT^For the nations are raarshalHng forces, 
 
 And the Old World looks up from her fanes ; 
 A. noise as of tidt^s and strong hillowa 
 
 Set westward, and hurtled ah)ng ; 
 The landmarks are shaken as willows, 
 
 Or reeds, wlion the current is strong. 
 
 In the forest a sound ot tent making 
 
 Where the wild ox was lord of his coast ; 
 And the red man his birthi-ight forsaking 
 
 Gives way to the oncoming host. 
 And why are the nations neglecting 
 
 Old temples and cities of old, 
 And the ties of past rites disrespecting, 
 
 New forms and strange fields to unfold ? 
 
MAMTOWA. 
 
 ( r 
 
 It wa.s not tor tliu worship of Mainiiioii 
 
 Ma<lo Jacol) seek Pharaoh's gia'm ; 
 Dill Moses quit Egypt for famine. 
 
 Or peace in the season of pain ' 
 As a stork knows her time in tlie heaven. 
 
 As the wild fowl the tem])e8ts foresee, 
 So unto the nations is jjiven 
 
 Some prescience of tumult to l)e. 
 
 For a storm over Europe is brewing, 
 
 That shall blur their millennial light, 
 When fierce Wroiijr vvill i{o forth for undoin 
 
 And when Right shall <lo battle for Right ; 
 And no grain can be sown in her valley, 
 
 And no herds graze her pasturing hills ; 
 And when hosts to the trumpeting rally 
 
 Of war, and inventions of ills. 
 
 When the nations their neighbors mistiusting 
 
 Will raven in famine for food, 
 And tile plough in the furrow lie rusting, 
 
 And the fields bring up blossoms of blood ; 
 And the sword hand of ruin be .scarlet 
 
 In the bosom of innocence dyed ; 
 And the beast have for helpmate a harlot, 
 
 And when freedom 's t(» bondage denied. 
 
 In the day of the prophet's foretelling 
 Of Philistia's es{)Ousal to Rome ; 
 
 Of the rivers in carnage upswelling 
 
 And the sun have on sack-cloth of gloom ; 
 
 88 
 
 i 
 
H4 
 
 MAMTOHA. 
 
 \nd the finnauient cyclones of luiilin;;, 
 And the sua lieave up cor|»ses as spray, 
 
 And tlie maiden he heard not in vvailino- 
 And the S|)()iler meet n(jne to withstay. 
 
 Then when Faith seems like Ichahod's splen.loi-, 
 
 Or a young yii-l on Babylon's street, 
 Will the Dragon come forth to defend her ! 
 
 Will the Beast to her help send a lieet .' 
 Will the Gentile arise to abolish 
 
 The enmailed Armageddon that day { 
 Or what Empire be called t<> (hnnolish 
 
 The image of brass and of clay :* 
 
 Whose arms have withstood the oppressor ^ 
 
 Whose strong hands upheld the oppressed :* 
 They were England's — the chosen possessor 
 
 Of all whom her justice redressed. 
 So shall she for truth be rewarded 
 
 In that day, and for breaking of chains ; 
 And to us, who assistance accorded, § 
 
 Her triumphs o'er earth and the mains. 
 
 For our part in prophetical oiders 
 
 May be to replenish her store 
 When Israel returns to her borders, 
 
 And the Jew shall be faithless no more. 
 And the Gentile repent at the story 
 
 Of Purity nailed to a cross, 
 And the kingdom of David in glory 
 
 Revive as it formerly was. 
 
MAMTOnA lilJKKTIMi. 
 
 s:. 
 
 So yive heod to thc^ yatlieriiig ot' t'orcMjs, 
 
 Nor decipher their symbols in vain, 
 That if Canaan shouM lack for I'esources 
 
 Our west may be Kgypts of grain, 
 (five incense of song and oblations, 
 
 Ye tribes unto Salem restored, 
 B^or the Lord 's on the si<le of the nations 
 
 Who tiy:ht in behalf of the Lord. 
 
 < ( I 
 
 ->>f^ 
 
 flDanitoba (Brcctino. 
 
 /Olf 8 a volume left open whose pages 
 ^;^ From cover to cover are blown, 
 ■^"^ Ho over my empii'e the ages 
 
 Have thither unharvested iionc 
 
 As a tieet from a harbor to harbor, 
 
 Whose keels leave no crease in the sea 
 
 Or as leaves fall in time from their arbor 
 So the days have departed from me. 
 
 But it surely is better as I am, 
 Than staining my banner in blood 
 
 Like Paris the bastard of Priam, 
 Or Rome with Aggression for god. 
 
 :j 
 
i!; 
 
 sti 
 
 MAMTOHA <iHKKTl.V<;. 
 
 !"!> 
 
 I . 
 
 ' M\ 
 
 ii'i 
 
 Aiid x\ll>yii, despite thy ilevotion 
 
 Unto fame, thou wert \vi.se on tlie day, 
 
 Thou didst follow time's sun o'er the ocean. 
 From lordly Ben Lomond away ; 
 
 Afar from thy sea-tinted islands, 
 
 Dim Morvan, Dunlathmon and Skor, 
 
 Lone Caithness, and far in the Highlands, 
 Oaithloda the dwelling of Thor ; 
 
 Where mystical Fingal's Comala, 
 And the ghost who is Ossian's bride, 
 
 In Lulan, with lovely Vinvela, 
 And dark Agendecca abide. 
 
 x\.nd I gave thee my valleys for dowers, 
 And my mountains no longer forloin, 
 
 My prairies of silence and flowers. 
 And my grain that is golden as moiii. 
 
 Thine are they O Albyn of story, 
 
 For my heart as a bride to thee turns ; 
 
 Th}^ tartan and |)ibroch an*] glory ; 
 Are dear to me, brothers of Buins. 
 
 So alscj mv sisters, nor loni.jer 
 
 Be absent, they wait to be wooed; 
 
 Since even in peace tht>u art stronger 
 With song than in sheddingf <»f blood. 
 
 For the blast ot tliy music resembled 
 
 The blast of the an^el of woes, 
 On the day Tel-el-kebir assembled : 
 
 Say Scotland, where now are thv foes ? 
 
MANi'ionA <;rkk'hn(;. 
 
 87 
 
 
 Thy sword-sheaths vvoiv necks of thy t'oenieri ; 
 
 At the noise of th}^ coniino- they ceased : 
 Thy minstrels are kings, and tliy yeomen 
 
 Are greater than kings of the east. 
 
 For thou art Jehovah's with Britain 
 In her large independence to reign ; 
 
 By whose light shall my record be written, 
 In the emblems 'tis mine to maintain. 
 
 Thou also, Hibernia, daughtei- 
 
 Of sadness, abandon awhile 
 Thy terrible shand)les of slaughter 
 
 Where Treason delights to Ijeguile. 
 
 From homesteads invaded come liither. 
 
 « 
 
 From want and confusion, away : 
 Thy maids are too worthy to wither, 
 In the dens that were nuide to <lecay. 
 
 And tiiou may'st from thy willows j-ecover 
 
 The harp of inherited powers ; 
 And the banner of Tara may hover 
 
 In triumph once more from her tow^ers. 
 
 It is folly, O France, it is folly 
 
 To repose in thy princes thy trust : 
 
 Turn thee hither from sophists uiiholy 
 With the cross for thy creed and be just. 
 
 Conform not to creeds that confound thee 
 
 In a woe- war with anarchy old j 
 But here with my majesty round thee 
 
 Find conquest for energies bold. 
 
 Il 
 
 i 
 
 litj i 
 
 11' 
 
sS 
 
 THE THOUSAND IHLES. 
 
 Alu.s, for the winds of thy sowiiiii', 
 Are whirlwinds, and low in the sod, 
 
 Biood-sjmnoled the liiys bestrewing 
 The pathway malignity trod. 
 
 >.or could Hno'o do ouLi'ht to revive the 
 Purt' euiblem from those who betrav, 
 
 Ere iniquitous Nihilists drive thee 
 Like Cain to the desert away. 
 
 wQ.n. 
 
 -J7 
 
 ilbe Ibou6an& 36lc6, 
 
 Thrilled by the waters long enibraoe 
 The slender silver reeds are stirred. 
 
 And sway with slow voluptuons grace, 
 Like dancers to a waltz unheard. 
 
 A 
 
 
 18 eventide, the mottled sky 
 
 1^7 Ts glorious in the sinking sun ; 
 ^V^ Now heaven's serene immensity 
 
 Seems flashing forth the words, Well done. 
 While sacred superhuman hues 
 
 Adorn each dim declivity, 
 And shape the intermingling views 
 As fair as P^den's landscapes be. 
 
I'lIK IIIOUSANI) ISLKS. 
 
 And rich suftusions gently spread 
 
 A boly mornfulness on higli, 
 ♦Such as the brows of seraphs shed 
 
 When harping in the upper sky. 
 AiwJ half revealed by liixht and shade, 
 
 S<) soft!}' sifted o'er the scene. 
 As if thev heard the music made 
 
 In realms of innocence serene, 
 'I'hose isles to invocation wooe<l 
 
 The restfulness of solitude. 
 
 «9 
 
 Our bark like fate's mute shuttle, throuuli 
 
 The watery web threads ouward whert' 
 They Heck the blight translucent blue. 
 
 As low clouds fleck the living air. 
 Which is a cloud, and which can be 
 
 An isle is clothed in mvsterv : 
 Both seem of a supernal growth, 
 
 And Sol's last radiance i-ests on both. 
 In one fond blush of pensive hues 
 
 That slowly flash and interfuse, 
 As if to beckon us awa}' 
 
 Beyond the precincts of decay. 
 And lookino- at the living o-low 
 
 Of light above and lake below, 
 Such parting pathos fills the air 
 
 Tlie full soul feels it would not dai e 
 Till free, to break the unseen eliain 
 
 Titat binds with beauty and with paiii. 
 
 
 i 
 
 'P 
 
 
 li 
 
 
 ' >v 
 
 ; .i: 
 
 
 i 
 
 in 
 
 ' p 
 
 i J] 
 
I 
 
 f I 
 
 90 TIIK ■|1I01«A\I) ISLES. 
 
 So fades the daystar out from sight 
 
 111 oiii; vast, lonely vale of lii^dit 
 Celestial, delicately fair, 
 
 Believe me it is vision theiv 
 By angels thronged, for eveiy ray 
 
 Quivers with imniortalit\' ; 
 The flash of their cherubic winus 
 
 Who dream unutterable things, 
 And so illuminate the high, 
 
 Serene, illimitable sky, 
 With tints emitted from that clime 
 
 Of something unfulfilled by time. 
 And we would follow him in high, 
 
 Immeasurable majesty ; 
 By one oblivious plunge to be 
 
 From human solitude set free : 
 But fear the night, so soon to cast 
 
 This glory by, ma}' ever last. 
 
 I!, r f 
 
 f 
 
 'iii 
 
 Some isles are rocky liastions bold. 
 
 Shaped when the ancient ages rolled 
 Around their thunder-rended forms, 
 
 Earthcpaakes and pr<;historic storms. 
 But some are exquisitely planned 
 
 By Beauty's spiritual hand 
 For purposes of peace, and still 
 
 They have no part in human ill. 
 
 Each hour a deeper ray emits 
 
 That o'er the wandei'ing water flits, 
 
 fjike sanguine leaves when they forsake 
 Their lofty brandies for the lake ; 
 
IIIK IIMirSAMl liSI.KS. 
 
 91 
 
 Siicli colors tinge the beams tliat [Vdf 
 
 (»11 c 
 
 loud 
 
 s onciinisoiied chrvsophras 
 
 S 
 
 O I 
 
 very I 111' 
 
 d tor 
 
 j^y 
 
 IS s 
 
 till 
 
 In river-vale, or island liill ; 
 And, past the purple mounts of pine. 
 
 Lullincj the winds with wands divine. 
 The imperial monarch of the day 
 
 Wlieels his irrevocable wav, 
 Kar off in clouds whose livinu' tiauies 
 
 Would lure the w<nld to wdser aims : 
 Like seraphs blushing for the sin 
 
 Of some orijiinallv kin. 
 Alas, how beautiful ! thev seem 
 
 Tliro' ageless centuries to dream, 
 Calm as the peace that comes from care, 
 
 Pure as a child's face tlushetl with prayer, 
 8oft as a transient velvet rose, 
 
 Still as the isles when winds repose, 
 Lone as this solitude of green, 
 
 Dim as th<ise purple deeps unseen, 
 Gorgeous as visions angels spread 
 
 For bards proidietically led. 
 As to the seer of Patmos shone 
 
 A sea of glass and crystal throne. 
 The city's glorious streets, and all 
 
 That held his poet soul in thrall. 
 
 
 '1 
 
 
 HM 
 
 The above poum was pulilislied liy Loiitrfellnw in lii>i \i>lu!ii»; of " I'neni's of 
 Piai/t?*," dcM'teti to Canadii. 
 
 !• 
 

 'l'I!ANSI""l(iUk\l'IO\. 
 
 4' 
 
 IrauefiGuratioit. 
 
 WRIITKN Al' SIAGAKA lAMjS, ON KKCEIVIN(* A I'OKM KS I ITIiKIt 
 "TIIK BKAITIFUL." 
 
 M THIRSTY pilgrim o'ei' an arid vva.ste 
 .,^ Revived by flashing fountains, even so 
 Comes a glad spell o'er every lofty spirit 
 When first inspired by beauty s sacred liglit, 
 Ail-attiueut as was the Magian star 
 That moved before the wise men, wonderful. 
 It blooms alike for all, l)iit to a few 
 Imparts a swift significance of power 
 Inert'able, immutable, untold. 
 O strange beginning of life's endlessness ! 
 Not any seraph at Time's birthday song, 
 When Earth s bright dew was brushed by angel wings ; 
 Not those of Delhi or of Mexico 
 Who made the morn a worship, gazing far 
 Thro' sunward silence from enchanted fanes, 
 Dim devotees of dawn enrapt, regarding 
 Day's god make glad the kindling seas and clouds 
 Flashing his far-otf flames athwart the high 
 (^Id crimson-crested mountains, makitig each 
 An. occidental Sinai, e'er saw 
 A dream more beatific than was shown 
 A mortal whom the world may never know 
 When tranced by that pure loveliness which is 
 
 1 
 
'll<A\SFI(;ri{A'l'ION. 
 
 93 
 
 Jehovah's niinluis and the prido of hciivcii. 
 
 PiedestiiH'd nevermore to pass away. 
 
 This is tlie Horeb of the heart vvliose (lower 
 
 Is in the terrible tabh's, and whose charge 
 
 Is to transcribe them U> a scornful world. 
 
 For this responsible tratistio'iiration 
 
 Is throni^'cd with disappointment, and with pain. 
 
 As is the sun with shadow, tlierefore, thou, 
 
 Burn not thine incense lavishly, bard I 
 
 For few can understand nnselfish:iess. 
 
 Behold, a time may come when thou canst see 
 
 Before thee no Shekinah in the night — 
 
 Like David who was forced to thank his foe 
 
 For slaughtering Absalom, his son, while lie, 
 
 Binding his wounds of woe in his own blood, 
 
 Poured forth o'erwhelming eloquence of woe. 
 
 So shalt thou use thine innate inspiration 
 
 In soothing sustenance of psalms, as friends. 
 
 By calumny estranged, cry " Crucify." 
 
 For as an oak is by the storm sustained 
 
 With boughs unbroken harp-strings in the blast, 
 
 Turning the wvy hurricane to praise 
 
 And gladness out of groaidng, so the ^dod 
 
 Are by prcmiethean misery's rnisiide 
 
 Annoinfed to adore tlie Deity, 
 
 Who made this majesty <>f rainl)ow beams 
 
 Emblem oui- spirits" possihilities 
 
 Of exaltation, when from grief .sliall come 
 
 A rapture rendering even worship dumh. 
 
 f it 
 
 fi 
 
 1 
 
:t4 
 
 A ( ri"s in iiii; SKA. 
 
 a (Titv b\> the Sea. 
 
 Pillowed ill vapor, silvei', pink iin<l gold, 
 itself of pearl and tire. 
 
 —ClKtrhs. a. I). /M)f,'ls. 
 
 ,.■! 
 
 I ; 
 
 ^ii 
 
 ^0*ROM (.)cean (Jiove whrre maiiy good reside, 
 A^Far to the west was st.'tjii at eventide, 
 A city as it were in Beulali land, 
 Of architecture angels understand. 
 Some tired of laud, peritliance, or sacred niijth, 
 Aware how scant men are of peace on earth, 
 To elevate our longing .so restored, 
 Or symljoled tlius their Salem of th«i Lord. 
 It was a lovely motive, to forebode 
 A Temple once before on earth bestowed. 
 Its bastions mounted with transparent s])ires, 
 Its fanes aglow with unconsuming tires. 
 Th: surplus incense from its altars welie<l, 
 Became the cloud-like fre.sc(jes we beheld — 
 Majestically moving over even 
 With half-revealed magnificence of heaven. 
 When like an altar-smoke they rai.sed tl»e veil, 
 And lo, the scene's immensity of .scale I 
 The veil withdrawn, aloft to left and right 
 A miracle of consecrated light 
 Smote every pass, transmuting as it gleamed, 
 Till substances opa«[Ue pellucid seemed, 
 lnten.sitied, and interfused, and high. 
 Such as V)ecometh immortality. 
 
A 0V\'\ H\ I'lll', SKA. 
 
 f>: 
 
 There Haslii-d tlic gates (.1" jtcarl, tli« whIIn uf stouf, 
 
 Beryl, jacinth, sard insnpt'ialilv shone 
 
 En streams of ra<liance round them ; Ku|>hrates, 
 
 And Hiddekel. embowei'ed by statelv trees, 
 
 So huge, tlieii- leaves were Autumn clouds for sizt- ; 
 
 And, wafting hourgt;oned incense to the skies, 
 
 Tliere grew Salvation's ever-graceful tree 
 
 O'er the sad olive of Gethseumne, 
 
 Benignly yielding halm, and myrrh}' dew, 
 
 And healing verdure on the m<nirnfu1 yew, 
 
 In gardens like En Gedi of the sun. 
 
 Such as rejoiced the monarch Solomon, 
 
 Or Babylon when Daniel, scorning fear, 
 
 Interpreted its doom ; so hung they theiv 
 
 A-surge with flowers of life that could defeat 
 
 Eclipsing night or Death. And every street 
 
 Paved costly with apocalyptic gold 
 
 Resembling Hiram's masonry of old. 
 
 When in a Temple Zion would express 
 
 Godhead immaculate in gorgeousnes.s. 
 
 i 
 
 i' 
 
 ■ *ij: 
 
 (!l 
 
 So there, far sunward, luminously reare<l 
 On colonnades, a goodh' Fane appeared. 
 Columns of stainless porphyry, ingrained 
 With aold, the lofty balconies sustained, 
 Branched in Ionian arches to uphold 
 Beams of rare jade "neath roofs of airy gold 
 Wheiefrom huoe domes heaved into the eterne, 
 As ocean icebergs in the sunbeams burn. 
 Evolving auras pure as iris rayed 
 Around Jehovah's throne of jaspei' made. 
 There were some signs from Heaven, I did not dare 
 lnte»pret those, save one divinely fair : 
 
 •il 
 
 ;i v. 
 
'I! 
 
 96 
 
 A CI TV MY rili: SKA. 
 
 I 
 
 
 A (love lit on tlie Temple's crystal cross, 
 
 Its pluniaj^e white just tioi^ed with azni't> gloss, 
 
 ( )iitwave(l as it' to bless the wi<lo doiiiain, 
 
 Then winged oiuu' more unlimited inane, 
 
 But want of grace dehaiTcd me, uncoiisoled, 
 
 From images to ins|»iiation told. 
 
 Extrinsic gifts immortal themes requiiT, 
 
 Or the live coal fVoui wisdom's altar tire ; 
 
 V^et love enlarged by soirow did dilatt^ 
 
 Some hints of heaven, or distance dissipates 
 
 Into similitudes ol nuiny a scene 
 
 From Bible climes ; still ])ools in pasturt? green, 
 
 Palms near Ion*; wells, dim deserts, shadowy rocks. 
 
 The tinivlinu- bells of ruminatiny' tiocks 
 
 By shepherds watched when from the stari'\' slope 
 
 Came the white angel of eternal hope. 
 
 For which thio' all those lofty avenues 
 
 Winged seraphs i-aised the harmony profuse, 
 
 Twelve times twelve thousand angels all agleam 
 
 In radiant robes beside the sacred stream, 
 
 Where banks of min.strels, sometimes listening. 
 
 Smote harps of holy laud. We heard them .sing : 
 
 () peace, peace I and thou despised of yore 
 
 By those whose hands clasp mine on earth no more, 
 
 Arise, proclaim how seraphim above 
 
 Meet those from earth long lost, and how they love. 
 
 So sang the glowing ones in nimbus zones 
 
 Out-circling tier o'er tier at oiisons. 
 
 While kindly interposing wings to shade 
 
 The intolerable glory music made ; 
 
 Yet so much Heaven escaped their pinions there 
 
 As we, unused to happiness, could bear. 
 
\ ciTN nv iiii-; si: V. 
 
 Fain liml I j^oiif then, iM-auty without flaw 
 
 Be.sieu(.'(l my soul, l»ut was dotLMit'il by awe. 
 
 For there hiv tranced lietween uie and that ^at< 
 
 A deep black solitary ocf.'au strait, 
 
 Ijdaid niosaical with blotches red, 
 
 A burning- sea whereon no nian may tread 
 
 Till his due time. Thtjn spake the living voic^- 
 
 Tl 
 
 lis vision is rt 
 
 ality 
 
 rejoice 
 
 That such things are : the hcjur to vindicate 
 
 The world is near : belujld the vcrv i-ate 
 
 Is on its pirnons poising : see afar 
 
 The swift atonement kindling, star bv star, 
 
 His way who bears on high the second name. 
 
 Haloed bv heavens unfathomable Hame. 
 
 Such will Jehovali of creation make. 
 
 And, pointing skyward, other wonls he spake 
 
 From John of Patnios when he saw reveale<l 
 
 The books of Salem ; l)Ut one book was sealeij. 
 
 T'hen bands of anoels changed the vivid scene, 
 And wreaths of sombre vapor rolled l)etween 
 Karth and those bastions, fading one by one, 
 Like hope, or the departing day when done. 
 
 Persuade me not it was a storm gone Ijy. 
 
 Poised for a space in eves ethereal sky. 
 
 Fxplain it not by a material law ; 
 
 Twas cry soli lit.' Jeinsalem we .saw. 
 
 For poets, when all human dreams grow dim 
 
 (/an people solitude with seraphim, 
 
 And formulate from troubled clouds oljscure 
 
 Faerie mor^-ana infinitflv iture. 
 
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 (716) 872-4503 
 
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98 
 
 AM»KH VKAV. 
 
 al^ct>aran. 
 
 'I'wofold lefulycnt v\v\y star appcurs 
 As if some wide celestial irale did l.low. 
 And tliriee illimie the <!Vei-kiiidled spheres. 
 
 Vhnrh's f/fiirtfiege. 
 
 HRILLEl) with the beauty of thy laws 
 
 My soul no inoi-e be dumb, 
 Back to the light. i^reat First Cause. 
 
 On bended knees I come. 
 
 I * 
 
 Thy works of wonder are inspired 
 
 As truly as thy word, 
 And both are by our souls' required. 
 
 And therefore l)oth conferred. 
 
 O world of ligiit, O city bright, 
 O golden streets and streams. 
 
 Thy portal's poorest stone of white 
 Surpasses human dreams ! 
 
 The shining silence of each orb, 
 
 An angel every dye, 
 Longing our being to absorb 
 
 [n white eternitv. 
 
[o rUK MOON. 
 
 99 
 
 Zo tbc flDoon. 
 
 ,if?5rOON, ijauue the stops of soiio-, tliose starry stoi 
 "t^Iu the vast oryan of tlie universe, 
 And fill our firmnnient with niolody. 
 Make the broad concave sounding- hoard of blue 
 Kcho creation's symphony ai>ain. 
 Kneore, encore, Diana 1 dost thou hea!- 
 The orchestrj^ primeval (' Lo, there's Lyra, 
 Cozen her into concert, likewise Phad. 
 But leave out Mars ; we have too much of him. 
 His infiuence made man carnal ever since 
 His pibroch boomed in the empyrean Vmnd 
 That marshalled in creation ; leave out Mars. 
 Nor do we much admire the J))'agon, let him 
 Remain with the mailed go<l, and both he mute. 
 But there is preferable Hesperus ; 
 (Jan she not chant as formtM'ly ? ah yes, 
 And Vulcan with his anvil chorus bring- 
 For hallelujahs i-esonant in heaven ; 
 Prince Saturn for prt.'center kee|»ing time 
 With his huge rings as cymbals. Wake tlieni all. 
 Wake GaJaxiea sidereal ; wuke Dubbe, 
 Merek and Benetnosch, and Mogrez dim, 
 in far off ages failing; Mizai- call 
 Lest he, like Bethlehem's Cassiopean light 
 Should Vje too long eclipsed. Behold tho cross 
 With its ausonian du|»licate eternal. 
 (Jail those epheniemi phenomeiiM, 
 
 .K 
 
 )s 
 
 r 
 
 J. 
 
 Hi 
 
 H 
 J 
 
 6 ■ 
 
 
 ! ^ 
 
 
 : 
 
 H 
 
 l| 
 
 1 
 

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 J 1 
 
 \ 
 
 100 
 
 T<t TIIK MOON. 
 
 riic comets, .strano^e Imt luit^'hty ; thry wli<' blaze 
 
 Like prophets, sooiTiino- time — the epoch nears 
 
 When we should know heaven l)ettei' : blend thv sonu* 
 
 With Flora also into a sweet stave, 
 
 And all earth's flowers will listen. Cerus, siny- 
 
 So that the amber sheaves on modern hills 
 
 May bow like Joseph's brethren. Let Queen .luno 
 
 ('onvene for the occasion witli her court. 
 
 We deem our wish is no ilispara_ij;ement 
 
 To Homer or his followers : our rej^aid 
 
 Ls strong for human ndnstrels : haply they 
 
 Are delegates from thee, and thus enact 
 
 A [)art by thee allotted them of yore ; 
 
 And so renew man's lost astrology, 
 
 Till we are ruled as foi-merly ; but, Moon, 
 
 We long for others also ; exorcise 
 
 The stars till thev jjive answer and we hear 
 
 Those pa3ans performed before the ages grey ; 
 
 Their very graves are grey with cunjulii 
 
 And mildew of millenniums sepulchred : 
 
 Dim thro' long time, unutteral>lv old 1 
 
 Was it that they were purer that ye sang 
 
 Cerulean anthems Ut them ^ Would not wt- 
 
 Be worthier likewise if w<' heard the sanie '. 
 
 Do this for Easter, Dian : this yi'eat dav. 
 
 'Tis the occasion's marvellous urgtucN' 
 
 Apologizes for our importiniing. 
 
 Bind the sweet influence of Pleides, 
 
 Arcturus, Mezzerotli, Orion red. ^ ' 
 
 All-colored Algol, Nebul, Alioth, 
 
 Make comets candelebra, asteroids 
 
 B^or footlights to th»ee worlds of audience. 
 
IIIK COMKT. 
 
 101 
 
 Their ^song>^ woiiM make bale lean, and leave it>' giavi' 
 
 With the unrytiiniie millions imjlti[)lie(.l, 
 
 Like leaves from obscure P^tsts ot'all time, 
 
 To cram creatiou's audit*, 'ium, 
 
 li' ye perform the role rehearsed of yore. 
 
 Ye deiiju no answei to mv midiiiijht croon : 
 
 Ah well ; good night, or morrow, gentle Mo(»n. 
 
 Zbc Comet. 
 
 TO ANDREW KLVI.NS, ASTROXOMKK, TORONTU. 
 
 'c 
 
 J 
 
 f^HEsha 
 Low si 
 
 HE shades glow deeper in the dark green grass, 
 gh the winds as if loiie spectres pas's , 
 L nseen reluctant ways. The restless trees 
 Wave dimly in an ever-varying breeze 
 With tones of coming storms Past earthly fields 
 A eoast-like cloud-land ea^terlv reveals 
 A trailing train of shapes that seem, far seen, 
 The funeral of Night's abdicated (piecn. 
 Her argosy of light lies beeched in surge 
 With envy that one worthier should emerge 
 I'nchaitered o'er the solitar^^ throng 
 Of that blue region ruled by her so long. 
 For up where Lyra's singiug rays letlect 
 Mild reprehension over our neglect, 
 An unknown messenger from realms unknown, 
 Wheels his irrevocable way alone, 
 
 II 
 
I 
 
 102 
 
 rilK ("OMKT. 
 
 The verge-light of a universe ; nor hath ' 
 
 Earth one with gifts to think across thy path, 
 
 Thou ghost of a past would ; yet unforgiven, , 
 
 It may be, but for beauty left in heaven, 
 
 To swing the gonfalon of God on high, 
 
 Beam thro' the night and burn across the sky. 
 
 As glowing winds in Eden gardens sing, 
 
 Hear the celestial harper chanson ing 
 
 Earth with a ballad of beatitudes, 
 
 Burdened with majesty of lofty ;noods. 
 
 O for a lyre seraphic to prolong, 
 
 Symphonious, the undulating song ! 
 
 Such as the star-choir sang when heaven's high band 
 
 Hailed the warm world fresh fiom Jehovahs hand : 
 
 COMET. 
 
 " I am wafted abroad to a farther abode 
 
 Tljan wondering thought can wander. 
 My career in the sky is so ample and high 
 
 The heavens intervening roll under. 
 For the width of my sphere's the aphelion of years, 
 In iBoned eternity grey, 
 • With the measureless light of my musical flight 
 Inflamed, unconsumed and away. 
 
 "Over lovely Orion the pinions 1 fly on, 
 
 Tho' viewless have lifted me far ; 
 Over lone Magdalen, and the rainbow of green 
 
 Around Alcyone, the star 
 Where dwells the eternal whose mandate supernal 
 
 Has hurtled me hither and thither. 
 As a thought that is seen in the ultimate sheen 
 
 Of sinless eternity's ether. 
 
TlIK <OMKI. 
 
 lo;i 
 
 "Over stais timt \v»Me madf wlieii Jehovah aiiayed 
 
 Thy primal tuiuulati«»ii.s with fire ; 
 Over many on eartl) tli}' Creator sent fortli 
 
 Thro' the heavens ^since that morning, and piior; 
 And again I return from tlie region.^ wliere Imrn 
 
 (jrod's pendidous censers sublime, 
 To abolish some gloom from the planet of tombs. 
 
 And to color the river of Time. 
 
 I 
 
 i' 
 
 "But I came not to boast of my flight nor tlie host 
 
 I have seen since I saw thee of old ; 
 Winged aloof from the thrall of the kingdom of Sol 
 
 For events by no Newton foretold. 
 For a part we all play in the night and by day, 
 
 In sidereal dramas divine ; 
 Yet my jouiney is lone in the heaven, for T own 
 
 No freightage immortal like thine." 
 
 KAKTII. 
 
 " 1 also was grieved, of thy beautv bereaved, 
 
 Like Rachel whose children were not ; 
 And the angels I asked, as in azure they basked. 
 
 If they knew of thine ultimate lot? 
 But in silence they shone like the fruit that has gone 
 
 From the tree that in Paradise urew, 
 VV^hich the first of my race were the first to deface, 
 
 So crave not mv mutinous crew. 
 
 Hi 
 
 ' I 
 
 " Looking backward I seem like a fabulous dream, 
 Full of flame and dark flood without days, 
 Ere my mountains as spume gurgled up in the gloom 
 That no star had peered thro' out of space. 
 
 '' L* 
 
II 
 
 104 
 
 THE rOMET. 
 
 Till tlie roseate dawn like ii sedulous swan 
 Softly brooded green Eden to bloonj ; 
 
 Kre the miscreant man came to join in the plan 
 Of creation's dominion and doom. 
 
 " It is humbling to view what to mortals untrue 
 
 To their destiny troubles their reason, 
 in a trebly cursed world which Jehovah has hurK'd 
 
 His footstool in space for a season. 
 Where the pride of an hour grows despotic in i)ower, 
 
 IJprearing huge temples to sin, 
 Until Wisdom and Right in their own lovely liiihi 
 
 Stand tremV)ling, but enter not in. 
 
 " In my kingdom of care even princes must wear 
 
 All the ghastly complexion of death ; 
 Yet no prophet's discourse has revealed the divorcf 
 
 Of my race from their Maker in wrath : 
 I have asked the blue main and the high starry train 
 
 But they pass me in solitude by ; 
 In ages none number o'er graveyards asl umber 
 
 Imploring — O who can reply :* 
 
 " Trailing legions I go with red wartields of wo»?, 
 
 Euroclydon, plague and monsoon ; 
 Nor from void would be missed if I cease to exist, 
 
 As ye miss not from morning the moon. 
 Who has wisdom to tell whether glorv or bale \ 
 
 Is appointed to planets i or why <* 
 Like the one star in seven, rebuilded or riven, 
 
 I may bourgeon, or burn upon high ? " 
 
TlIK COMKT. 
 
 105 
 
 fOMKT. 
 
 " They who <Ue have inon' awe for n law aln>vo law, 
 
 Than for arts comprHiienflcfl in schools ; 
 It is therefore that I have no orUit on l)i:;h 
 
 To proclaim that (to<1 nih's abijv»3 rules ; 
 So my advent is solely l)y harmony holy; 
 
 And the soiijLfs that etfinmlly clioer 
 Every universe hjoad are the anthems of Uod, 
 
 They would madden a moital to hear. 
 
 " But I bring thee a grace fiom the splundoi- of space, 
 
 And a beam from tlie beauty of heaven ; 
 That the world may assume the imuuitable bloom 
 
 The angels inviolate live in ; 
 For the gift of my mission's to grace thy condition 
 
 To silence the fools who «leplore me ; 
 And there's many a sphere in my spacious careei' 
 
 That has grown out of gloom into glorv ; 
 
 i ' 
 
 I,' 
 
 1*1' 
 Iff 
 
 " As a dewdrop might grow to a planet aglow. 
 
 Pellucid of scintillant hues, 
 Kvery spangle a dawn flaming onward and on 
 
 The universe vast to sutfiiso, 
 With a beauty so pun^ that uo ill could endure 
 
 To be in its circle unblest, 
 Yet better than this in the kingdom of bliss 
 
 Js the city of Salem and rest. 
 
 " Such a time will arrive when no evil shall thrive, 
 No hurricanes howl to the moon ; 
 Earth is neai'ing the bounds of seraphical sounds 
 With the heaven's whole concert in tune ; 
 
 H 
 
 Ml 
 
 
ti-r"' 
 
 10« 
 
 nKTIKK NOT m KNOW. 
 
 Where in (liscord ami warsliall be purchased no more 
 
 Their peace who inmiaeulate he ; 
 From the Hghtning pronn-.sot'theirsorro\vsand wrongs 
 
 They shall smile like a sunrise at sea." 
 
 I ; 
 
 Wlio'll sing the Sony of tin; stairy tliion^. 
 
 The 8ong of tlie snn ami sky '.' 
 The angels bright on their thiom s of lii ht 
 N'ot a mortal sucli as J. 
 
 - M( Litrh/an. 
 
 Better IRot to Iknow. 
 
 HO ever formed great plans in youtli 
 Of mighty things to do ; 
 
 Of wisdom, fortune, fame and power 
 
 To aid the good and true ; * 
 
 Whoever wished to biess his race, 
 
 To raise the poor and h)w, 
 Such patriot hearts have found some pangs 
 
 'Twere better n >t to know. 
 
HKTIKH NOT 10 KNOW. 
 
 Aiid luiHt tliou wooed one heautit'ul 
 
 Who would not smile on tlier, 
 I'hy spirit blindly hoping still, 
 
 Ket'using to be free !* 
 Until some )'ival battle«l till, 
 
 And spoiled thy fate ;* if so 
 Thou art acquainted with those thini,^s 
 
 'Twere better not to know . 
 
 lu; 
 
 
 Has bland temptation lured thee on 
 
 To his fau'-seeminy ifoal, 
 Till harsh remorse t<> greater sins 
 
 Goads on the harrowed soul { 
 Hope wrecked on rock along life's stream 
 
 All evermore laid low — 
 There are some monients in such scenes 
 
 'Twere better not to know. 
 
 Sin plods all feebly on thro" fate, 
 
 Dumb, wretched, tempted, l)lin(l ; 
 Forbid to hope and by remorse 
 
 Forbid to look behind ; 
 Resigned to the micertainty 
 
 Of everything but woe, 
 And some dark boding, futurt; pains 
 
 Twere better not to know. 
 
 H 
 
 Tumultuous passions surge the soul 
 
 And fitful visions flash, 
 (Irief-chilled and fever-.scorched by turns 
 
 Neath pain's all torturing lash, 
 
 .1 
 
lOH 
 
 HKTTKH SOT TO KNC>\V. 
 
 Desii'iiiy" (Icatli, if l)Ut for cIihul;*', 
 
 Yot (huading linicc to go, 
 •' For in tlutt sk-cj* wlmt (Irenins mav C'lHU' 
 
 Twore Ix-tter not to know. 
 
 For in that dim futurity 
 
 All hazy lonu and far, 
 Upon whose threshold Silent'c sit^ 
 
 And holds Death's door ajar 
 For soiil^ to enter at all hours, 
 
 While from his house none go. 
 There may l)e secrets hidden there 
 
 'Twere hetter not to know. 
 
 The longing after hidden lore, 
 
 The thirst for uid<nown things, 
 The fearful yearning to explore 
 
 The future's mystic springs, 
 The blighted happiness and all, 
 
 All that we must forego, 
 'J'ho" want of wisdom grieves, pe reliance 
 
 'Twere Itetter not to know. 
 
 , i 
 
 But wisdom makes us worthy lieaven, 
 
 And knowledge gives us power ; 
 And holy science Hoods the soul 
 
 As with a golden .shower ; 
 And nature's studies speak ot iiim 
 
 From whom they brightly flow , 
 Whose scantest jteace outweighs those eare^ 
 
 'Twere better not to kiuw. 
 
"NK m;N|,KKI) VKAliN KKo.M Now. 
 
 Tht-ri let, iis f'atlioin .-v.-ry tnitli 
 'Tis possiMo to find, 
 
 To streiiLrtli.!!! lift an.l <li^niity 
 Tin- all-tlesirinu- mind ; 
 
 Earth's liirlii- and shades and loftior worlds 
 
 That soul-oxalting olovv, 
 < an t.!ach to hvAiv the nnm.Tous ills 
 
 T\v»;r(! iH-ttcr not to kno.i. 
 
 '0?> 
 
 V 
 
 ®nc lbun^rc^ ipcar^ jfroin flow. 
 
 WR.rrKN V, rMK "Morsr^s vku " „,.,,«. ham,m„s. 
 
 ^ STOOD npon tlie mountain hrow 
 Cj( That overlooks the Hay, 
 V (-^n^ario o-|in,merino- in the east, 
 Empurpled f'ai- away : 
 When up with morn's trans%i,ri„o. hVrhi 
 
 Arose the question : how 
 Will this vast f)anorama he 
 One hun.lred years from now ^ 
 
 I 
 
 1 1 ill 
 
 - i 
 
 R| 
 
 I I: 
 
 h 
 
TT-r 
 
 10 ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW. 
 
 ( > change ! Vjut let us nieditatu 
 
 Before we thus exclaim ; 
 Fnv not one heaven-beseiging liojif 
 
 Or soul will be the same ; 
 That not a living- heart will throb, 
 
 Or one aspiring brow 
 Of all the hither-hastening host 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 Behold yon home, 'tis possible 
 
 When those strange years have tlcjwn. 
 That mansion may remain the same 
 
 In architectuial stone ; 
 Yet not one living occupant 
 
 Will that elapse allow 
 To thrill retuiuing tenderness 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 The foe to whom our hatred tlew, 
 
 The chosen fail and dear ; 
 C'liarms that might make death hesitatt- 
 
 And break his hideous spear ; 
 Gifts that could bless, or bring a blush 
 
 On grnn stagnation's slough, 
 Will all alike be wafted henc<; 
 
 One huiubed vears from now. 
 
 The priest who pawns his sacred stole 
 For robes by woildlings worn ; 
 
 The poet with millennial dreaujs 
 Of peace re[)aid by scorn ; 
 
ON'K IHTNURKI) YKAHS FHOM NOW, 
 
 The statesman's curse, to be belied 
 While at an empire s prow, 
 
 No mure may liear tlie ral>V)le hiss 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 11 
 
 One lialf the world lives by the L;riet' 
 
 The othei- half endure ; 
 Aad tine professions fatten on 
 
 The crimes thev cannot cure ; 
 Their harvests of unhappiness 
 
 Time's sickle comes to mow, 
 With all who in such vineyards work 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 t^ 
 
 V' 
 
 So leoions move to death by means 
 
 Of too much woe to care. 
 Pushed from obscurity's dim pier 
 
 By absolute despair: 
 An epitaph the only trace 
 
 Their troubles here can show. 
 Unless faith's pilot fords the deep 
 
 One hundred vears from now. 
 
 But you who live by wisdom's lore, 
 
 Who wee|) for human woes, 
 If planted side l)y side beneath 
 
 Death's little hilly vows 
 With such as scorned a wanting- world, 
 
 Nor would its rights allow, 
 Will not be all as one with those 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 -•' \ 
 
112 ONE HUNDRED YEAK8 FROM NOW. 
 
 For tlio' yon sun with broad free btaiiis 
 
 May look around and see 
 No lecord to remain that day, 
 
 Dear friend, of you and me ; 
 Tlio' life produced for us but weeds 
 
 'Neath desolation's jjIow, 
 Love's quitcleim vnay renew its Kase 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 Then the caged culprit shall be fiee 
 
 By nature's legal course ; 
 Then the unhappy pair obtain 
 
 The long delayed divorce — . • 
 
 O bliss, without remorse or blame, 
 
 Or any broken vow — 
 Yea such as long for any change 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 ►Such questions as aiise from vice 
 
 No ghost returns to tell ! 
 If sin's abortive years will end 
 
 As Sydon did, or well ? 
 In peace, or pitted with rude fiends 
 
 In one eternal row ; 
 But every creed will be explained 
 
 Orie hundred years from now. 
 
 This and much more will be levealed : 
 Yea dreams we dream not of — 
 
 Such as by wisdom is withlield. 
 Lest fools blaspheming scotf — 
 
ONE HUNDRED VEAKS FROM NOW. 
 
 113 
 
 In regions paved with stars of heaven, 
 Pledged to Jehovah's vow, 
 
 Far from the dread of death or hell 
 One hundred years fVoni now. 
 
 Ambition has no right to hope 
 
 For any rock of lest, 
 Unless like Noah's dove of peace 
 
 The palm branch is its guest ; 
 For tho' delusion's fools with smiles 
 
 To lucre's favorites bow ; 
 Fame must fulfill God's law to live 
 
 One hundred years from now. - 
 
 I ,' 
 
 M 
 
 iii 
 
 But human learning, selfish fame. 
 
 Or atheistic sneer, 
 Placed parallel to God's great thoughts, 
 
 How puny ye appear. 
 He wills new worlds, or wills them nut, 
 
 He sways the heavens, but thou, 
 O Pride where wilt thou build thy throne 
 
 One hundred years from now { 
 
 'm 
 
 "■■ ft II 
 
 ■;■ if 
 
 l;l 
 
 And thou thyself, great glowing globe, 
 
 With all thy restless crew 
 Of emigrants immortal launched 
 
 With clouds empyrean, who 
 Out of thy heavenly havened host 
 
 Will look to see thee plow 
 Still onward to eternity 
 
 One hundred years from now ? 
 
 ii ?■ 
 
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 114 
 
 TIIR SHELL. 
 
 Perchance niankin<l may see ere then 
 
 The One who wept in vain, 
 Come gloiy-legioned suddenly, 
 
 Triumphant o'er the train 
 Of sin ; O Ziou lift thy gates ! 
 
 Ye alien Gentiles bow 
 To Solyma's Immanuel ere 
 
 One himdred years from now ! 
 
 Cbe SbcU. 
 
 Steeped in some rainbow essence. 
 
 ■Sangfiter. 
 
 ^O^WAS when green haloes, air}', clear, 
 ilyC^Ahove the May-lit boughs appear 
 ^^T^v In oriental atmosphere, 
 
 Bestreaked with crimson. 
 Arose a goodlv dawn as e'er 
 
 Wild birds sang hymns on. 
 
 As some great theme untold in rhyme. 
 So grandly Sol began to climb 
 His azure tlome to measure time 
 
 High in mid heaven, 
 And all beneath his smile sublime 
 
 Appeared forgiven. 
 
THE SHELL. 
 
 Ilo 
 
 That holiday, remembered well, 
 Not feeling fit in crowds to dwell, 
 Up, pensive, for the mountain dell, 
 
 Lonely I sped ; 
 But finding by the way this shell 
 
 Thus n> using said : 
 
 To be where thou art is not good 
 Commingling with the common mud, 
 Th}' hues like roses in the bud 
 
 Blush there to be. 
 Once bathed in ocean's sounding tlood, 
 
 The ageless sea. 
 
 The soft suffusion of thy face 
 Proclaims a sentimental grace : 
 That thou art greatly out of place 
 
 Thy lot is proof: 
 Tis thus with all the tuneful race 
 
 Neath heaven's blue roof. 
 
 Hadst thou to some green lane been taken. 
 Where from lush foliage dews are shaken- 
 Winged harps by living hundreds waken 
 
 Those dawns with glee — 
 Thy fate had been far less forsaken, 
 
 But here — ah me. 
 
 Let not thy gentle heart be hurt 
 Because we meet among the dirt ; 
 If forced to be with clods inert 
 
 Not thine the wrong ; 
 It was not fated to pervert 
 
 Thy wavy song. 
 
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 1 IT) TllK SIIKLL. 
 
 Thy inunnuied answer, mystic friend, 
 
 I cannot wholly comprehend ; 
 
 Yet some things in our structure blend, 
 
 A lurking gift, 
 Whose holy longings upward tend 
 
 But fail to lift. 
 
 (Jome to ray dwelling in the garret, 
 What room is there I freely sliai-e it ; 
 A. boon begrudged is minus merit, 
 
 And burns the hand ; 
 There thou shalt find the great in spirit 
 
 Of our loved land. 
 
 Serene among muses shining 
 
 Wye, Moodie, Kerbs^ Wilkins, Vining ; 
 
 And Collins, gifted in refinin 
 
 S" 
 
 Castalia's tank 
 i for whom Fam 
 Oblivion blank. * 
 
 A bard for whom Fame's not designing 
 
 Some pondered deej)ly long ago 
 By jambs with piney knots aglow. 
 While wintry tempests, drifting snow. 
 
 Wailed thro' the woods — 
 I learned what Felconer could show 
 
 Concei'ning fioods. 
 
 ' The names of W. Wye Smith, Edmund Collins, W. Kerby, and of the 
 other tfeniuses here mentioned, are so widely known that they require no 
 other annotation than this apology for so unpermittedly a^lorning this page 
 with them. 
 
TMK SIIKLL. 1 17 
 
 P(M.', K^Mon, Heavysege and Blair, 
 Vtjn Humboldt witli his hoary hair 
 Like thine own sea ; and Burns the rare 
 
 First son of fame ; 
 John Milton mounting Jacob's stair 
 
 Blind unto blame. 
 
 Some who liave long ago departed ; 
 Some by Death's sickle lately thwarted, 
 Some who large plans improving started, 
 
 But lost the way ; 
 Some minus shekels, broken hearted, 
 
 Died of dela}'. 
 
 One struggled hard to help the needy, 
 Reclaim the sot, and clothe the seedy 
 Fit for the universal freeday, 
 
 Which will ensue ; 
 But this huge world has grown so greedy 
 
 What can one do ^ 
 
 All that we hope for does not happen. 
 Angels perverse (our deeds misshapen ?) 
 Wrapped his high aims a sliroud of crape in, 
 
 Making them vain. 
 While he, sole mourner of fate's rapine, 
 
 Stood bound in pain. 
 
 The spirit of the past that time 
 Revived him with remembered rhyme, 
 As out of some grey turret's chime 
 
 A Sabbath bell, 
 Restoring from a far off clime 
 
 The gentle spell. 
 
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 1 I'*' THK .SHELL. 
 
 "By which he saw, and still can see, 
 Far from this city's dreary glee, 
 A lovely valley and a tree 
 
 Beside a lake, 
 And one who there was glad to be 
 
 For his own sake. 
 
 8o near a.shore the roses grew 
 
 Their blushes tiecked the mirror blue, 
 
 Like red shells bathing, where we two 
 
 Joved to behold n 
 
 How morning over nature threw 
 
 Etheriel gold. 
 
 On ever}'' dewy bud and blade 
 The all important light was laid, 
 Claiming the slow receding shade. 
 
 As faith calms fear, 
 While love's young pulse exultant made 
 
 The meaning clear. 
 
 So heaven's inexplicable spell 
 From beauty's glance of gladne.ss fell 
 On his fine spirit, there to dwell 
 
 For evermore, 
 Like fadeless color in a shell 
 
 Heaved high on .shore 
 
 By tidal waves from coral seas, 
 To be with flags on lillied leas. 
 Where nimbus leaves ou loftj' trees 
 
 In dews are glancing, 
 Waiting the music of the breeze 
 
 To .set them daiicina. 
 
THE SHELL. 
 
 Or as an eagle out from gloom 
 Vaults o'er Apollo's silvery bloom, 
 His spirit took a grand caroom 
 
 On love's young pinions, 
 Rejoiced to see the heavens make room 
 
 For morn's dominions. 
 
 It was the time when men were proud 
 
 Along with him to be allowed ; 
 
 E'en queenly beauty grandly bowed — 
 
 His hat ascending — 
 But once beneath misfortune's cloud 
 
 Behold the ending. • 
 
 For just as he began to dream 
 His world-regenerating scheme, 
 Malignant tribulation's stream 
 
 Above him rushed ; 
 Where storms contending howl and i»leam 
 
 His harp was hushed. 
 
 For he who gave the poet's strain 
 Has taxed the gift divine with pain ; 
 And ilrey storms round Fame's high fane 
 
 All spiteful wheel ; 
 Yet do the tempests of the main 
 
 Thy charms reveal. 
 
 Restless, obscure, uneducated, 
 Inspired to love, yet never mated ; 
 Glad to aid goodness, but berated 
 
 By those we cheer ; 
 One would infer we were created 
 
 For some high sphere. 
 
 119 
 
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 120 TIIF, SHKLL. 
 
 Poor orpliaiis of this woild arc we, 
 Kiiflovved with rlouble sympathy 
 w For sonow, while we daily see 
 Sin crowned with gold, 
 And worth in want — why this should be 
 Remains untold. 
 
 But tho' we merit melancholy 
 
 In common with man's fall and tolly. 
 
 When adverse tempests drifting lowly 
 
 Eclipse the skies, 
 Some Sabbath |)ros|>ects sweet and holy 
 
 Awake, arise. 
 
 We own a grand exhaustless stoie 
 Of uncommunicable lore ; 
 We can feel music long before 
 
 The first note sounds ; 
 Far off we hear stormed ocean roar 
 
 Lashing his bounds. 
 
 Sweeter to us the wild birds sing 
 Than harps to hearts of harsher string ; 
 Each flower's a very holy thing 
 
 In beauty dressed, 
 Like bands of ancjels enterino- 
 
 The realms of rest. 
 
 So grief may be a law of growth, 
 Since even nature sends us both 
 The evil and the good, and doth — 
 
 Such seems the plan — 
 Render responsible for sloth 
 
 The miscreant man. 
 
TIIK .SIIKLL, 
 
 Anil on the time of tiouble's spite 
 The uiusc can soar l»y " sccon.l siylii ; " 
 Ah thro' euiljattled storms of iiiLjht 
 
 Bursts iieavcii's red lay, 
 Till earth is delujivd with a liiilit 
 
 Fairer than day. 
 
 As thro' the Thousand Isles ol ;:iei;n 
 At times no clmnnel can be seen, 
 The skilful pilot helms us clean 
 
 The narrows thro' ; 
 From surges thundrous t«) a sh.'eii 
 
 Of peaceful blue. 
 
 So wisdom pilots worth along 
 
 Thro' salutary tides of wrong ; 
 
 For truth, and love, and faith arc strung, 
 
 Nor can be slighted ; 
 The whole materialistic thronu' 
 
 Will yet be righted. 
 
 We can afford to pity those 
 Who scorn a poet's joys and woes, 
 Whose eaithly fancy never flows 
 
 From light supernal, 
 Where truth's millenriial laurel grows 
 
 In youth eternal. 
 
 Tho' often blamed when not to blanie 
 By fools who deem we sing for fame — 
 We know the right, yet suffer shame, 
 
 Forced wrong by wrong, — ■ 
 E'en when in earnest to reclaim 
 
 The erring throng. 
 
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 \'2'2 TIIK SIIKLL. 
 
 Til ink not, dear friend, thy lot is liaid 
 Because hy pain from peace debarred, 
 Maimed, menaced, mutilated, mari'ed « 
 
 Beyond a cure, 
 Cirpat pains produce a gieat reward 
 
 If we are pure. 
 
 My fellow minstrel in distress 
 
 The phantom fame would blast not bless, 
 
 If we fail dumbly to express 
 
 The light within, • 
 
 The holy light of loveliness 
 
 Because of sin. 
 
 'i 
 Abate no faith, behold yon scroll, 
 
 How grand those midnight orbits roll ! 
 
 Deen) not the mind that has control 
 
 Of such a scene. 
 Can stain its honor, or extol 
 
 Aught that is mean. 
 
 So bard of ocean, and of time, 
 
 Come and commune in wordless rhyme 
 
 About thv coral halls sublime, 
 
 I do beseech : 
 Grant me some knowledge of that dime 
 
 Beyond the beech. 
 
 For o'er an ocean we must sail 
 Soon as we quit this adverse vale — 
 We send — but no return of mail 
 
 Comes from that coast : 
 It cannot be in Death's dark gale 
 4 That all are lost. 
 
 l:l.^,.„,. ^_ 
 
IT.M.I A. 
 
 3talia. 
 
 •ji' 
 
 
 jANTK, arise. O Tasso sfiid 
 
 Thy spirit to the ^lee ! . 
 
 «^j'o A I fieri, strike thy liarp, the land 
 
 Of Angelo is free ! 
 Land where Galileo's starry lore 
 
 Was most at honu! on hltrh 
 Heaven's vibrant ()rl)its to explore, 
 
 Columbus of the sky — 
 The land of Raphael's living nrt, 
 
 Of Petrarch's peaceful lore, 
 Home of each melancholy heart 
 
 Be as ye were of yore 
 Ere Byron's mighty genius mourned 
 
 Thy glory unreturned ; 
 Where Shelley, by his brothers scorne<l, 
 
 Sleeps quietly inurned ; 
 By Tiber and in Venice rise, 
 
 Where Austria's sabres orleained ; 
 Semblance of ruined Paradise 
 
 Be once again redeemed. 
 
 Unurued thine ancient cohorts come, 
 
 Invincibly serene, 
 To find thy fanes, aggressive Rome, 
 
 Have false to triumph been. 
 
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1-4 ITALIA. 
 
 Ttie Pincian hill, thy Appiar: wall, 
 
 Thy Coliseum's show, 
 Tramped by the godless feet of Gaul, 
 
 By Austria trampled low. 
 
 But now thy .shackled past yives way, 
 
 Thy legions reappear ; 
 And Garibaldi's victory 
 
 Has taught us to revere 
 Genoa fame — eclipsing Rome's — 
 
 Whose son his flag unfurled 
 To find a hemisphere of homes, 
 
 The Nimrod of a world, 
 A world that from its western skies 
 
 Sends freedom-greeting strains, 
 Rejoiced to .see Italia rise 
 
 And break oppression's chains. 
 
 ■iis'i 
 
 i Ir 
 
 Three wise men from the east sailed round 
 
 Far o'er a strange dim sea, 
 They followed nature's star and found 
 
 A Bethlehem of the free 1 
 Let that great deed redeem thy fault ; 
 
 Lil)erata's .song, prevail ! 
 Liberata, let thy hymns exalt, 
 
 The goddess with her scale. 
 Redeemed is Virgil's weedy grave, 
 
 And thine, once Rome of earth, 
 Who from thy glorious bosom gave 
 
 Immortal minstrels birth ; 
 The3^ bulwarks of thy past, shall stand. 
 
 Thy strength in years to come ; 
 
ITALIA. 
 
 They call from nnmy a far ott' land 
 
 Our hearts to thee, O Rome : 
 No more may despots trample thee 
 
 Like valembrosa leaves ; 
 No more thy gorgeous Pantheon ])e 
 
 The prowling place for thieves ; 
 No more may aliens spoil thy thro'.e 
 
 With violence and vice ; 
 No more thy beautiiul be shown 
 
 At market for a piice. 
 No more a thousand years eclipse 
 
 Such dreams as Dante dreat.ed : 
 Again shall Tiber see his ships 
 
 Out of the deeps redeemed. 
 
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 " The beautit'ul twilight of lieaviii 
 Hade nature a l>lusliing adieu 
 Vav we came fvoi"*! tiiat lake in thi' valley 
 The iilade where the dandelions tirew.'" 
 
 'TiiK Gi„U)K." 1 iige l:ir>. 
 
I 
 
 I RURAL RHUffiES. ^ 
 
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 Sbc ®l^ Ipinc Canoe. 
 
 ^tOtOW brioht were tlie days tliat have long ago faded 
 
 * From vernal hills liigh in the sun's airy beam ; 
 The fiowei'-s] tangled shoreway by cedar trees shaded. 
 
 The bridge where we fished in the many-curved stream. 
 How ii'av when October made i;olden the weather, 
 
 As over the wutei- the withered leaves flew, 
 We rowed in i-ed vistas the blue grajtes to gather, 
 
 And watched tliu waves cradle the oM pine canoe. 
 
 But where is the glory ambition [trojected 
 
 When oailv we roved o'er the water-bound scene. 
 
 Where now is the fjladness that brioht .scene reflected i 
 Ah, where is the boat that was mcjored on the green ' 
 
 The spirit of change has all silently taken 
 
 The charms that we loved from the objects we knew ; 
 
 Its beauty has fled and our friends have forsaken 
 The scenes where we paddled the old ]>ine canoe. 
 
 
T?^ 
 
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 12S 
 
 rilK OLD PINE CANOE. 
 
 'Hi 
 
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 Ye wild flowers that beaconed the pathway l)et'()re me, 
 
 The world was not true to the welcome ye j^^ave ! 
 Come back, come back, gentle rose, or restore me 
 
 My innocent faith, and my hope from their j^rave. 
 Not ill vain did we climb, but the excellent splendor 
 
 That lured us aloft was the glitter of snow ! 
 Return me the flags and the friends who were tender 
 
 In the days when we dreamed in the old pine canoe. 
 
 Ah. never again will they come to rejoice us, 
 
 Wlien evening's last sunbeams repose on the hill ; 
 Anil never again shall we hear their glad voices, 
 
 Except when the echoes of memory thrill. 
 If we oather once more all the grave has not gathered 
 
 To join in the joys we were wont to pursue, 
 All. who could foro-et all the sorrows that withered 
 
 The <lays since we sailed in the old pine canoe • 
 
 m 
 
 Farewell to the fair waving vallev forever, 
 
 Farewell to the flowers that grew by the shore, 
 Farewell to the course of the blue winding river, 
 
 Farewell to the scene that can gladden no more. 
 The Spring will return and the season of ro.ses, 
 
 The forest and valley their verdure renew. 
 But the friends and the days that our memory shows us 
 
 Have passed down the stream like the old ))ine canoe. 
 
ATKINSON S MILL. 
 
 1 •_".> 
 
 Hthin0OiV6 riDilL 
 
 HIS river of azure with many a weed in 
 c:^ Comes tar tVoiii the past as those famous ot' oM : 
 Its dawns are the same as niade blossoms in Eden, 
 
 And still it remembers their crimson and gold. 
 As vivid this valley with forests around it. 
 
 And low, waving evergreens shading tlie hill ; 
 But (^jlor has gone from the cottage that crowned ir — 
 The alders have ffided by Atkinson's mill. 
 
 This stream is the same with its tinting of aziu'e, 
 
 Yet the old bridore is moved from its mooring of stone : 
 Departed are those who once made it a pleasure 
 
 To sail here, or skate when the sunnner had gone. 
 This pathway through ceilar is trampled no longer 
 
 By feet that went daily to scliool 'gainst their will ; 
 riie fragrance of ho})e in the springtime is strongei- 
 
 And sweeter than sunnner by Atkinson's mill. 
 
 No more will the bio' wheel revolve with a elatt'f. 
 
 No more the bolts tui'n wdth a tui'bulent clank. 
 Nor down the dim flume rusi\ the \vondertul water 
 
 To burst forth in foam by the green covered ba»ik. 
 The blue flag has a'one from the shore that we ciierish. 
 
 The song of the grev bird in autumn is still. 
 Yet memory kindles the blossoms that perish 
 
 Like hope that was happy by Atkinson's mill. 
 
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 430 
 
 WKHSTKt! S KAF-I.S. 
 
 Mcb6tcr'6 ifalle 
 
 (NKAR DLNDAH). 
 
 ^W(> fertile sliores have foiiiied a gentle river 
 That rolls serenely oiiwaid to its fall — 
 
 A dreadful depth, it makes the spirit shiver, 
 80 fearful is the plunge ironi yon wovn wall. 
 
 Mottled with inoss tliat lives upon its ledges, 
 Begemmed with li(|uid incense fiom below, 
 
 Thro' dark green cedars growing near the edges, 
 While scraggy pines on high wave to and fro. 
 
 And hanging from the clitfs b}^ tendrils tangled, 
 In wild luxurious loveliness profuse. 
 
 Festoons of faithful vine, by fall bespaiigle<l, 
 Time's altar tapers, colored of all hues. 
 
 And when the gorgeous verdui'e is decaying, 
 October blushing by these shores and swamps, 
 
 Reminds one of an Indian maid delaying, 
 Last of her race, among deserted camps. 
 
 Alone in forest avenues to saunter. 
 
 Dream (m the hills and trace the winding shore, 
 Familiar to the footsteps of the hunter, 
 
 The vanished tribes who visit us no more. 
 
 Beyond the distance of time's westward rivei- 
 Her friends have gone forever past recall ; , 
 
 Death put their days like arrows in his quiver, 
 Fast as those leaves of scarlet foliasfe fall. 
 
WHriTi LILIKS. 
 
 \-M 
 
 One came here once to mus<! on pro.s|)ects thwarted, 
 And saw life's emblem here, and still can see ; 
 
 Like truth, these waves are lost not, nor departed, 
 But in the future shall more affluent be, 
 
 As surely as these waters, downward driven 
 Thro' uuknowMi gorges, perfected at last, 
 
 Shall rise again to soar celestial heaven, 
 Bright with the alchemy of many a blast. 
 
 For such as dare maintain truth's exaltation, 
 By labor toiling in the upwai'<l path, 
 
 Thro' science which is God's last revelation, 
 Thro' faith, the only perfect friend of death. 
 
 -^^^ 
 
 Mbite lilies. 
 
 tjjYyifORNlNu on Burlington golden and glorious, 
 -•^^^ Softly transfusing the crystalline sheen ; 
 Every mild lustre Aurora lit ovei' us, 
 Angels translating the dawning to green. 
 
 So from her slumber came Annabell pensively 
 
 Roving with friends where the shore-pebbles bleacli 
 
 Came ere the morning had blossomerl extensively, 
 Searching for lilies on Burlington Beach. 
 
 Blooming in light they ensymboled unsullying 
 Peace that surpasses ambition or fame ; 
 
 As out of the depths of such exquisite coloring 
 Freshly those emblems of innocence came. 
 
 
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 132 
 
 I WILL NOT TELL. 
 
 There we like gods drank immortal libations, 
 
 As sunbeams drink shadows wherever they n'acii, 
 
 Till even stars tendered to Sol their, oblations, 
 Searching for lilies on Burlington Beacli. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 3 Mill IWot Cell. 
 
 ^ WILL not tell thee why the lanci 
 ^ With so much glory glows ; 
 There is but one in all the world 
 My sacred secret knows. 
 
 O, she is fairer than the flowers 
 
 Of rosy June or May, 
 When every bird is singing near 
 
 And every blossom gay. 
 
 I asked her eyes to let their beams 
 Make life supremely grand : 
 
 Their answer like a flood of light 
 Flushed all the flowery land. 
 
 The sunbeams o-lanced amony- the iji"a>s, 
 Warm-wavinn; in the breeze. 
 
 A new life gladdened every bioom. 
 More vivid grew the trees. 
 
 1 shall not tell thee why the land 
 With so much glory glows ; 
 
 There is but one in all the world 
 My sacred secret knows. 
 
A BLUE BIRD. 
 
 a ffiluc ffitr^ 
 
 13;} 
 
 ^jXpAlL. singing symbol of the Spring, 
 '-^ With all thy flowery train; 
 To every valley of our land 
 We welcome thee again. 
 
 Come to the pine and maple tree, 
 To groves of willow come ; 
 
 Tiie'buds are wearv waiting: thee 
 To woo them into bloom. 
 
 Fresh green of bloom and fraorant j^in-ss 
 
 Shall glorify the glade, 
 And fruits abundantly to bless 
 
 Thy sweet domestic tiade. 
 
 Here is the verv same snno- nest 
 Built near our ancient barn, 
 
 Made soft with feathers from thy breast 
 And downy shreds of yarn. 
 
 i (3 
 
 Fill up the little nest with love, 
 And all its wants relieve, 
 
 Among this twilight- tinted grove 
 Slow wavino- in the eve. 
 
 H 
 
l:U TIIK (iF.ADE. 
 
 When wintry tempests from tlie wky 
 Frovviieil on the landscape lone, 
 
 We longed to see thy form tlit hv 
 As in the summer gone ; 
 
 We longed to see the Oriole here, 
 The Robin and the Jay 
 
 Fly thro' the tirmament to cheer 
 Our labor all the day. 
 
 And tho' remembrance of past mirth 
 May with th}' songs return, 
 
 So many joys with thee have birth, 
 Remembi'ance shall not mourn. 
 
 Cbe i5la&c. 
 
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 iujjrow often when weary with labor, 
 ^' The duty of man unto man. 
 
 We open. the gates of remembrance 
 
 Whei'e infancy's rivulets ran. 
 Even now while the sun over Huron 
 
 Gives evening a lovelier hue, 
 The s})irit of nature reminds me 
 
 Of the glade where the dandelions grew. 
 
TIIK (ILADK. 1 .?.') 
 
 One beautiful niorninj^ in nia.y-tinu\ 
 
 When birds were preparing- for June, 
 Some re<l willows waved in tlie breezes 
 
 That rippled a little lagoon. 
 The sky was embellished with azure, 
 
 With Mowers the landscape and dew, 
 We chose our coiupanion^r- and wandered 
 
 To the ijlade wiiere the dandelions i»Tew. 
 
 My choice was celestially favored, 
 
 She battled art's exquisite touch ; 
 Ye scarcely could fancy the angels 
 
 Surpassed her in loveliness much ; 
 When she gave me the pearl-tinted lily 
 
 Born white in the water of blue ; 
 As she gave me her beauty forever 
 
 In that glade where the dandelions grew. 
 
 i ( 
 
 H 
 
 Though many a pain has distorted 
 
 A heart that was happiest then, 
 I lemember our mirth as we sported 
 
 At hide-and-go-seek in the glen. 
 The lingering twilight of heaven 
 
 Bade nature a blushing adieu, 
 Vjve we came from the lake in the valley, 
 
 The glade where the dandelions grew. 
 
 • ' 1 
 
 The cloud which arose on that eve 
 Was spray from adversity's wave ; 
 
 But her tenderness made me believe 
 In a heaven this side of the grave ; 
 
13(i 
 
 TIIK (JLADK. 
 
 :i 
 
 Ami so lew aro the scenes of reioiciii!' 
 
 That fancy <lelights to review 
 The first of the fielils that were frauranfc, 
 
 The ghule where the (Uini lei ions ^a'ew. 
 
 I never returned to that valley, 
 
 I never shall j^o there ag'ain ; 
 The chan^^e that came over the real 
 
 Would make the remeuihrance a pain ; 
 But I often look hack to its heauty, 
 
 And sigh o'er the sweetness wo knew, 
 As we roved among blackberry bushes, 
 
 In that glade where the dandelions grew. 
 
 I mingle with jesting and laughter, 
 
 Because a sad spirit will ache ; 
 For the love of this lite and hereafter. 
 
 Lies buried alone by the lake ; 
 Alone in the valley of yari'ow, 
 
 Awav wheie the waters are blue, 
 Away from all huii^an returning. 
 
 In the glatle where the dantlelions grew. 
 
 And you who have much speculation, 
 
 Who struggle for bread or for gain. 
 Till the beautiful love of your boyhood 
 
 Has almost forsaken your brain, 
 Even you have your moments romantic 
 
 In crowds and the counting house too, 
 Some scene that is lovelier than lucre, 
 
 Some glade where the dandelions grew. 
 
MILKlN(i TIME. 
 
 137 
 
 fIDilhing ttimc 
 
 
 TWAS II 
 sere 
 
 luliaii siiinnier cvu 
 serene, 
 
 ItS^i^ I wandenicl in tliose ways 
 Tlie spotted ki?ie in clover <,'reen 
 
 Were <lailv \v<»nt to ('raze. 
 I placed the bars up well to keep 
 
 Her cows from roving home ; 
 Then strolled along the pincy steep, 
 
 And waited her to come. 
 
 ''C\ ~* - ^'^^ came advancing down the lane, 
 ^^ Knee-deep among the tern ; 
 
 I heard her call her kine in vain, 
 
 For how could they return ? 
 Her dress, of greenish calico, 
 
 Which she had most outgrovvn ; 
 On shoulders where the white shone thro' 
 
 Like lilies on a lawn. 
 
 '■ilil 
 
 I asked her of my vagrant herd, 
 
 Which never did exist ; - 
 She said, " There are some objfcts blurred 
 
 Down in the valley mist;" 
 
 I I 
 
 .> K 
 

 Hi! 
 
 138 MILKING TIME. 
 
 Slow pointing one small hand awaj' 
 Towards her father's lot ; 
 
 But ere we reached that valley gre\ 
 Both errands were forgot. 
 
 We neither heard the Whip-poor-will, 
 
 Nor sullen Owl repine ; 
 Her hand, remembrance holds it still, 
 
 Was gently clasped in mine. 
 A Robin chanted of his brood, 
 
 It may have been a Wren — 
 . We had no special aptitude 
 
 To hear his hymns just then. 
 
 No doubt the river fell to rhyme 
 
 Below the boughs agleam. 
 While we, among the mists sublime, 
 
 Arose to the supreme. 
 O, rising moon, O, secret moon, 
 
 How much thou hast to tell. 
 If thou couldst like a Druid cioou, 
 
 Or murmur like a shell ! 
 
 ^ 
 
 r^X^ 
 
TIMK WAS. 
 
 139 
 
 JTiinc Mae. 
 
 ^IME was, my Annie, years agone, 
 
 (Ah nie, what weariness since then !) 
 When shone with fairer light the sun, 
 
 And my first love for thee was green ; 
 Not that e'en now I love thee less, 
 No time can dim thy loveliness ; 
 But ah, the world and years have made 
 A change that makes my heart afraid I 
 
 Time was, my Anuie, when your face 
 Was all worth living for, I deemed ; 
 
 Nor beautiful nor time nor place 
 
 Where you were not — yea, so it seemed. 
 
 Time wa^, my Annie, when your voice 
 Was ir / sole music of the spheres, 
 
 Tt loft my r\iem()ry no clioice 
 li'it just to follow all these years. 
 
 Timo was, my Annie. — ah, i * .^n 
 
 That time thou too rememb're;it well; — 
 
 Arid tho' an ocean rolls between, 
 Yet do 1 f( el your beauty's spell. 
 
 Time was, mv Annie,— but no more I 
 Why to niin^ 'Vym upstai'ts the tear ? 
 
 Has time forgo;' tliat it before 
 Taught me my solituae to bear ? 
 
 .. 1 
 
 ill 
 
vm 
 
 
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 ■ "i 
 
 
 ! 
 
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 !! 
 
 140 A SIGH. 
 
 ^|/f[ pQW strange, whatever makes us blest 
 Can mar the bliss it gives, 
 B}' planting in the tender breast 
 A thorn that never leaves. 
 
 'Tis strange, what gives us most delight 
 Can its own hope destroy, - 
 
 And hurl the spirit from the height 
 Of its unfinished jo}'. 
 
 Why doth the heart, with so much room 
 For peace, yet grieve ? Ah, why 
 
 Do joys, like fragile jasmine, bloom 
 To dazzle and to die ? 
 
 The crumpled rose-leaves of the past, 
 
 No summer may restore ; 
 A bough once broken in the blast, 
 
 May bud and bloom no more. 
 
 Yet sometimes, when the sun is low, 
 
 Escaping fiom a cloud, 
 Back o'er past day an airy glow 
 
 Is for a space allowed. 
 
 So fancy sometimes comes again, 
 
 Too constant to forget, 
 And kindles with a rosy stain 
 
 The shadow of reoret. 
 
HUSKINCi HEES 
 
 14 
 
 IbuekiuG 3I6CC6. 
 
 
 t\> 
 
 ;-< 
 
 r^HKN rosy SdI rolls eastern night away, 
 '^ And pearly dews glearn in the early day ; 
 When thistlebeards triumphant ride the breeze, 
 Antl o'olden sunbeams kindle jiolden trees. 
 Where bright October comes with copious horn 
 To crown the furrows with abundant corn — 
 As it' the Summer hesitates to go, 
 But, joined to Autumn, both together glow 
 On heaps of fruit that gild the yellow yard ; 
 And grapes all gracious yielding sweet reward ; 
 W^ith apples red strewn round, that look about 
 Like a boy's face with mischief bursting out — 
 Then have we seen and joined the jocund frays, 
 A youthful party husking yellow maize ; 
 There laughter too, coijies "holding both his sides," 
 And by those games elected future brides. 
 The modest maiden hanos her head to find 
 The crimson symbol of her lover's mind ; 
 Slvlv refusing that he should redeem 
 The forfeit pledge with many a stitled scream; 
 Pretended poutings over stolen kisses 
 From make-believe-resisting rosy misses — 
 early gladness, by whatever name 
 We call thee, thou art better far than fame, 
 Or all the joys that visit us in vain 
 Among the passing years of hardening pain. 
 
 ii 
 
■'■ i iBiiri?! [' 
 
 ■m 
 
 1 
 
 142 OCTOBER. 
 
 ©ctobcr. 
 
 ^OME withered weeds and cornstalks dry 
 "^ Sway 'neath the loossy cottage gable. 
 Expcc'tV'x slorms the forests sigh 
 
 Whyn' 'alien clouds are rolling sable. 
 A black cr^v^r on a blighted pine 
 
 Calls boldly unto flocks high flying ; 
 The world seems restless, and a sign 
 
 Of dimness tells us time is dyii^g-. 
 Far up the blue Canadian crane 
 
 Slow sails thro' evening's crimson curtain, 
 He seeks the sedgy swale again, 
 
 When moonshine renders shores uncertain. 
 Among the dark green orchard grass 
 
 The sanguine sumac boughs are swinging, 
 The flowers are dead, and dirges pass 
 
 From tree to tree wdiere leaves are clinfjini>. 
 How wonderful, and dim, and drear 
 
 And unexplained is all around us ! 
 We call for hopes that disappear, 
 
 Then mourn the echoes that confound us. 
 Ah well, 'tis better: could we guess 
 
 One half the heart is fierce for knowing, 
 The world would lose its loveliness, 
 
 And Cupid quit his arrow-throwing. 
 Let mercy's mystery softly pall 
 
 The future's coffined corpses thickly ; 
 If from our eves the film should fall 
 
 O close the cruel curtain quickly. 
 
NOVEMBER. 
 
 H3 
 
 IHovembcr, 
 
 (A niROB). 
 
 m 
 
 ^HE old oak tree is dying ; 
 
 The storm-tan lied branch of centuries is bare, 
 Its bark is riven from the limbs and lying 
 
 Afar and near. 
 The last dark robe of Summer foliage tiying, 
 
 Withered and sere. 
 
 Departing songsters gather 
 
 High on the branches ere the}- haste away, 
 A farewell chanting to the frigid ether, 
 
 And fading day ; 
 To sport no more where yellow beeches wither, 
 
 No longer gay. 
 
 And sullenly assuming. 
 
 His thione to vindicate the summer past, 
 Stern Autumn stops the thunder's distant booming 
 
 And lightning blast, 
 While from the north the dieary clouds are coming 
 
 Sombre and vast. 
 
 The little cricket's singing 
 
 Sounds lonely in the crisp and yellow leaves, 
 Like bygone tones of tenderness upbringing 
 
 A thought that grieves ; 
 A bell upon a ruined turret ringing 
 
 On Sabbath eves. 
 
 ig 
 
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 144 
 
 THE LITTLE FRAME HOUSE. 
 
 The tempest- loving raven, 
 
 Pilot of storms across the silent sky, 
 Soars loftily alono- the heaving heaven 
 
 With doleful cry, 
 Utt'ring lone dirges : thistle beards ai"e driven 
 
 Where the winds sigh. 
 
 And yet here is a flower 
 
 Still lingering, by changing nature spared ; 
 And '", . ne bird within a leafless bower — 
 
 Two friends who dared 
 To shu. '^ ti , Jiadows of misfortune's hour 
 
 Though un|)repared. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 tCbc ILittlc ifrainc Ibouec 
 
 ^ow often there comes to the spirit when lonely 
 Some picture of beauty to gladden our toil, 
 Some rose of wrecked prospects left blossoming only 
 
 In thistles and thorns of adversity's soil. 
 And fadelessly fancy retains the reflection, 
 
 Like an aoate aoleam in the midst of a rill ; 
 A house in the valley of vernal perfection 
 
 The little frame house at the foot of the hill. 
 
 A meadow of reeds and a stream runnincj: thro' it, 
 Where speckled iish sport, and the orioles thiong 
 
 In a grove whose red shades in October bestrew it 
 And fleck the blue waters that wander along 
 
THE OLD NUMBER FOUU PLOW. 
 
 14.") 
 
 But it is not tlie scene tliat most beauty al)ides in, 
 O it is not the flowers that such odors distil 
 
 Reviving remembrance, but one who resit les in 
 The little frame house at the foot of the hill. 
 
 Hey voice is as sweet as the voice of" the robin 
 
 Which sings by that stream in the still ruby eves; 
 Her heart is the purest that ever did throb in 
 
 A beautiful breast for the love it relieves. 
 Her words are the kindest that ever connected 
 
 Two fates with the magical .sentence 1 will ; 
 No wonder my thoughts are so often dii'ected 
 
 To the little frame house at the foot of the hill. 
 
 O Sol, shed the glow of thy beautiful glory, 
 
 Rise mornings of light and beam even ing.s- of peace, 
 Come flowers and music, and make her life's story 
 
 A heart full of love every day to inciease ! 
 And let the choice of her heart be unswerving 
 
 In all that gives hope its most exquisite thrill, 
 For wide earth contains not a maid more deserving 
 
 Than the little frame house at the foot of the hill. . 
 
 H| 
 
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 Zbc ®l^ HAumbcr jfour plow. 
 
 jT/^-'ast time I returned to my father's plantation 
 ■Q=^ The light on the landscape was vividly green, 
 The breezes were filled with the sweet exhalation 
 Of flowers and song and the sky was serene ; 
 
w 
 
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 146 
 
 TJIK OLD NUMBER FOUR PLOW. 
 
 My spirit rejoiced in the beauty of sunmier, 
 And fancy took flights unattenipted before, 
 
 But suddenly sank when 1 saw a new comer 
 Had taken the place of the old Number Four. 
 
 My joy was dispelled by the shadow of sorrow 
 
 As all the reverses arose to mv view, 
 Since steering the plow with its share like an arrow, 
 
 Its iron-bound beam and its handles of blue. 
 How often afield when the crimson of morning 
 
 Made golden the mist on night's shadowy shore, 
 As the wood-robin welcomed the davlight returning, 
 
 I turned the brown fuirow with old Number Four. 
 
 And all the day blest with the thrilling reflection 
 
 That soon as the eventitle slowly drew near, 
 By chance I would meet with the blushing perfection 
 
 Of golden-haired Anna, the tenderly dear ; 
 And wander with her in the beauty a sharer, 
 
 'Neath a roseate skv round earth's flowerv floor. 
 Till earth seemed to fade and the heaven come nearer 
 
 The field that was furrowed by old Number Four. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, 'tis this rose of our spirits, 
 
 Plucked out of life's wormwood, yet gathered in vain, 
 That gives the old plow such a halo of merits, 
 
 Being mingled with joys that return not again. 
 My heart fondly turns from life's wearisome changes 
 
 And beats for the beauty that blest it of yore. 
 And loves to remember, whenever it ranges, 
 
 The rapture connected with old Number Four. 
 
A MIDNIGHT KICVKHIK 
 
 a flDl^niobt IRevcnc. 
 
 147 
 
 ■" ^v ^A ri 
 
 ^ARK winds t'orbodc 
 C-*rrd, advancing storms 
 To sift tlieni over hill and home; 
 Fancy is rife with phantom forms, 
 And this dim room. 
 
 The bloom of flame is fading cold ; 
 
 Things eerie flit across the floor ; 
 Deeper and deeper drifts are rolled 
 
 Against the door. 
 
 What form is this that Fancy sees? 
 
 It sets each listening pulse athrill 1 
 Rest spectral Fancy, if ^-ou please, 
 
 Rest and be still. 
 
 'Twas but the fading ember flame 
 Hath made that other fire revive, — 
 
 But, something .syllabled her name, 
 As I do live ! 
 
 Behold her as the blushes stain 
 Her soul-lit brows — sad puie eyes 
 
 That less of earthliness contain 
 Than of the skies. 
 
 ; 
 
 ;i 
 
 
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 \i 
 
w 
 
 ' 
 
 HI 
 
 ■T 
 
 I 
 
 J ■! 
 
 
 lis A MIDNHJJIT UEVEiniC. 
 
 81ie caiuo tVoiu hills wliero ciimsoii trees 
 Are red as Hanie rourul some high fain; ; 
 
 But to the priestess more than these 
 Arose my strain. 
 
 She entertained me in her liouse 
 
 With soiio'fnl tomes of bards like j^ods, 
 
 In looms bedecked with ferny bou<^hs 
 And golden rods. 
 
 O'er clover fields the moon-beams fell, 
 An old dog howled out on the hill ; 
 I bade my heart heed not that knell — 
 • heart be still ! 
 
 Thy hopes Vvere veiitied if heaven 
 Were loved as she w^ho gave me there 
 
 Of golden rods the mystic seven, 
 Ah she is fair 1 
 
 But as of okl they garland-bound 
 
 Victims for sacrificial fanes, 
 80 my mute hope with flowers she crowned 
 
 And crucial chains. 
 
 Are poets haunted like a hall 
 
 Where spectres smile because they grieve 
 Some nectar bring and some bring gall, 
 
 These last ne'er leave ; 
 
 They dance along the withei-ed sward, 
 They gather to the feast that was ; 
 
 They suffer of their own accord 
 For broken laws ; 
 
THE iJuiiHii': 
 
 110 
 
 Tliev ^ii!'li like winds tliat bode ot storms, 
 As rinnblini^' liearses empty come ; 
 
 Regrets are tliey for whose tiim forms 
 Death has no tomb. 
 
 (htkahask). 
 
 ^7;rii:N midnight o'er a world of June was brooding 
 
 -<"'' Like music in a melancholy dream, 
 A Presence came before me ; u n obtruding 
 Her glance was, as a tirmamental gleam. 
 
 Lone on a rural bridge, wdiere silent water 
 
 Imaged the majesty of azure space, 
 I stood while star-bespangled mystery brought her 
 
 Who is this world's one embleni of its grace. 
 
 Her voice celestial music to mv musino;, 
 
 As if night sang while nature thrilled to hear, 
 
 With aching joy, heart-hushed for dread of losing 
 Tones that might cause des])aiv to disappear. 
 
 I who long gone made friends of stars by ]•}, rning 
 Their lore, yet feared, tho' the loved Pre.scnce spake 
 
 Gently as moonlight the mild deep adorning; 
 
 " I too, like thee, am nameless, therefore, Lake, 
 
 I do baptize thee 'neath the stars of heaven, 
 
 With trees for sponsors and with hills serene ; 
 
 Loch Katrine art thou, and thy name is given 
 In compliment to one who is thy queen. 
 
 ; 1' 
 
 
\ 1 1 
 
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 : 
 
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 I 
 
 150 
 
 TIIK HHIIKJK. 
 
 Many have l)et!n haptizoil who (lisappitintod 
 
 Tliu hopes of tlioso wlio loved, hut tliou art true 
 
 To rites for v/hicli tli}' nature was annointed 
 In fiilent eloquence and tlowery dew. 
 
 Rolling thy mists o'er mountain i^rove and valley, 
 Turning the artfid wheels in aid of toil, 
 
 Cheering the songsters wlu/around tlu?o rally, 
 
 Veiling the speckled crew w<! would endiroil. 
 
 Oreat deeds may yet adoiTi thee in the ages 
 
 When mortals bow to Mammon's creed no more ; 
 
 The time will come again when seers and safjes 
 
 Shall cleanse truth's temple as One did of yore. 
 
 Man was not made to dwindle and to perish 
 In sordid greed whereby the soul is slain ; 
 
 Surely a lordlier aim is ours, to cherish 
 A loftier life, else are we born in vain. 
 
 To help to build the temple we inherit 
 
 Tho' done in ways obscure, O stream, as thine, 
 
 Must be the mission worthy of a spirit 
 
 Whose birth and destiny are both divine. 
 
 Yet some high souls in spit3 of lore's elation 
 Are cramped by minions to a sordid state, 
 
 As thou art by thy banks in isolation ; 
 
 Therefore in sympathy with such a fate 
 
 I do baptize thee 'neath the^stars of heaven ; 
 
 Bow trees responsive, hear it waves serene ; 
 Loch Katrine art thou, and thy name is given 
 
 In compliment to one who is thy queen." 
 
TO ONK WHOM I OFFKNDKD. 
 
 tr.t 
 
 Zo Qnc Mhoin 3 ©ffcn^c^. 
 
 
 N tlie (la\.s of past ilruains wlion J chanted 
 
 Of beauty, 'twas fancy did feign ; 
 But tlie liglit tliat thy spirit hath phinted 
 
 In mine nuist forever remain. 
 To the tliirsty in deserts, the s))ringing 
 Of fountains, and tlovveis and tlie sea, 
 So thy voice set my desti ly singing, 
 I never loved ai»y but thee. 
 
 Wlien we met 'twas to me as the beaming 
 
 Of Spring, wlicn the lilies awake ! 
 Thine eyes lit the future like gleaming 
 
 Of stars in a desolate lake. 
 Tho' around us is many a token 
 
 Of the peace I have failed to foresee, 
 1 can see that my idol is broken, 
 
 Is broken in kindness to thee. 
 
 
 I mav soon be in scenes where the muses 
 
 May burden thy beauty no more 
 Thaii a star-beam that daylight diftuses, 
 
 Or a billow rolled back from the shore. 
 As a ship that goes downward while groping 
 
 For a shore in the shadow, to me 
 There 's an end, not to loving, but hoping, 
 
 For I never loved any but thee. 
 
 |i 
 
M^ 
 
 ] 
 
 152 
 
 TO A BEAUTIFUL STRAN(;EH. 
 
 ^0 a fficautitul Stranocr, 
 
 jP^AiR maiden take it not amiss 
 {^ That one when first he saw thine eves 
 Partook some portion of their hiiss 
 Who dwell in pearly Paradise. 
 
 They hint of more than earth can show, 
 Or queens enthroned in old romance ; 
 
 And all the glories poets know^ 
 
 Are shadows fading: frotn thy glance. 
 
 I pass thee by, nor look again, . . 
 
 Because thy purit}' of gaze 
 Rebukes me, as a sacred strain 
 
 Heard ere I fell on evil days ; 
 Yet one to worship eyes like thine 
 Mav have some attribute divine. 
 
SNOW niHDS IN THE SUGAR-BUSII. 
 
 \-^'^ 
 
 Snow Birt)6 in tbe Snoar-ffiu6b. 
 
 DO remember one dim moru 
 When we had lost our wa^', 
 So deep the midnight snowilakes lodg'od 
 On every branch and spray. 
 
 All things were bowed in worsliip of 
 
 A white ethereal shade, 
 Cedar and pine and hemlock,' each 
 
 A mute obeisance made. 
 
 I I 
 
 '4 
 
 M 
 
 ■ ■^'H 
 
 iM 
 
 The chickadee ])lained tenderly, 
 And the audacious jay — 
 
 There's not much sentiment in him ; 
 But he sang well that day. 
 
 m 
 
 ,11., 
 
 Chasing the melancholy owl 
 Back to his thicket dim ; 
 
 Because the owl is minus mirth, 
 The jays make mirth of him. 
 
154 
 
 A WINTRY BROOK BY MOOXI-IGIIT. 
 
 'I 
 
 nil 
 
 a Mintn? ffirooh b? flDoonligbt. 
 
 (ROBERTSOS'a FARM). 
 
 f^^EATH scarfs of crystal fringe by frost enwoven 
 "^^^ ^ Where icy lace of gauze festoons the fern ; 
 At times detained by cold, by boulders cloven, 
 It glides along with many a mazy turn. 
 
 Thro' boughs of opalescent radiation, 
 
 Begemmed in vapory braids of misty gleam ; 
 
 Gilding the stones, as clouds are, near the station 
 Of stars, which shine like stones in time's blue stream 
 
 Not to disturb the Howers it wonders stillv. 
 Without a song save what the heart may hear ; 
 
 The heart feels sad for fear the rose is chilly. 
 The rose that was so redolent last vear. 
 
 Its beauty renders memory a presence, 
 
 Lighting the adverse wind, as doth a dawn 
 
 Lantern the dark, and so its fragrant essence 
 Revives the loveliness of days long gone. 
 
 Perchance, if the infinitude of splendor, 
 
 O heart, is also here, let it cheer thee ; 
 To know thy hopes, like flowers for cold too tender. 
 
 By frost deferred, may yet more radiant be. 
 
SOJff 
 
 155 
 
 Sona. 
 
 
 jjp^AR over us softly the fleecy clouds flow, 
 
 ^The river rejoices in verdure below, 
 
 But there is a secret yet dearer to me. 
 
 It's O to belonfj to a beini'' like thee ! 
 
 I long to delay in the light of thy smile 
 
 As a sailor for rest by some roseate isle, 
 
 As a sailor looks out for his home from the sea, 
 
 For it's O to belono- to a beiuii" like thee; 
 
 Ah, the rose loses fragrance, the blossoms we prize, 
 
 Delay not for love of their beautiful dyes ; 
 
 But thou art my summer wherever we be 
 
 Sinsjino- to be loved bv a beino- like thee ! 
 
 ^HEY say the lilies bloom as sweet, 
 
 The wild birds warble as of yore ; 
 But list'nino- for thine absent feet, 
 
 I cannot hear them any more. 
 If thou could'st with the roses come, 
 
 Or as the spring to some fair shore 
 The world would wear a richer bloom 
 
 Than anv Eden ever wore. 
 I urged me lately to revive 
 
 Some accents of that happy tone, 
 Which was thyself, but who can hive 
 
 Its fragrance when the summer's flown ^ 
 I find the roses where we roved, 
 
 Are pale for want of light, and prone ; 
 All nature mourns for my beloved, 
 
 Gifted, and beautiful, and gone. 
 
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156 
 
 A SUNLIT RAIN. 
 
 
 a Sunlit 'Rain. 
 
 RESH foilaife wavini^ 
 High over green j)aving, 
 While red clouds are laving 
 
 White sails in the blue, 
 Like rose- bar" es, flowinii: 
 From Eden, bestowing 
 God's argosies, glowing 
 
 With opaline dew. 
 
 Lo, yonder the showers 
 Go, trailing soft dowers 
 To far away bowers, 
 
 Fl orescent of hues — 
 Dream sunward in shady 
 Effulgence of mayday, 
 A skyey Arcadian 
 
 Home for the muse. 
 
 The spirit of musing 
 Awakens, perusing 
 The lovely transfusing 
 
 Of vivified air. 
 Rejoiced that yon ocean 
 Of glory in motion, 
 Allures to devotion 
 
 Like Israel's stair. 
 
' 
 
 I! 
 
 A SUNLIT RAIN. 
 
 For evening is ending 
 In emerald blending 
 With jacinth transcending 
 
 Jerusalem's wall 
 Whose gates are left slightly 
 Ajar, and so brightly 
 Some throne-rays fall lightly 
 
 In rainbows o'er all. 
 
 ir>7 
 
 
 V ? 
 
 One rainbow of red dew 
 And green, o'er yon meadow 
 Is wedding the shadow 
 
 Of rain to the sun, 
 With ring symbols given 
 By opulent heaven 
 To vindicate even 
 
 The stoi-m that is gone. 
 
 No wonder mute nature, 
 With joy in each feature, 
 Half dumb like some creature 
 
 Subdued by surprise, 
 Looks up to the azure 
 In evident pleasure. 
 And takes the great treasure 
 
 With tears in her eyes. 
 
158 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I', 
 
 r ^':§ 
 
 OME children ate quitting 
 Their pastime regretting 
 The gloaming and flitting 
 
 Of robins to rest ; 
 And slyly a lover 
 Wends hopefully over 
 A field of sweet clover 
 
 To one who is best. 
 
 Hail delicate greeting ! 
 Such moments of meeting 
 Are ever too fleeting, 
 
 Too happy to stay : 
 Hail, reason and science 
 In every appliance ! 
 But life's first alliance 
 
 Is purest alway. 
 
 For often its promise 
 No sooner goes from us 
 Than cares overcome us 
 
 To vanish no more, 
 Except when some vision 
 Reveals with precision 
 The lovely eljj'sian 
 
 We long; to restore. 
 

 STANZAS. 159 
 
 
 Then woo her awhile ere 
 
 
 Thy lovely beguiler, 
 Or time the defiler 
 
 
 May wither the bloom : 
 
 
 A little while longer, 
 
 
 When reason grows stronger, 
 
 
 The great ironmonger 
 
 
 Called duty will come. 
 
 
 Will come with the paling 
 
 
 Of roses, in wailing 
 
 
 Of breezes assailing 
 
 ■ 
 
 Florescence like fire ; 
 
 » 
 
 And all that is gay for 
 
 
 A season will stay for 
 
 
 No prayer, nor delay for 
 
 
 A poet's desire. 
 
 
 When reading of folly 
 
 
 And passion unholy, 
 Or mute melancholy 
 
 
 That follows lost love. 
 
 
 One vowed he would master 
 
 
 That foolish disaster ; 
 
 
 But his heart beats faster 
 
 
 Than sense would approve. 
 
 
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 V^y 
 
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 111 i 
 
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 I 'I 
 
 if ; 
 
100 TO THE (;KANI) UIVER, PARIS. 
 
 Co tbc (Bran^ IRivcr, pme. 
 
 WRITTBN AT KOCKAWAY UBACII, li.I. 
 
 " Love still has something of the sen 
 F'rom whence his mother rose." 
 
 i^^'^HIS ocean's starlit sliadovv^s 
 Unto the muses seem 
 Like marigolds in meadows, • 
 Far bv a western streanj. 
 
 'Tis years since I beheld thee, 
 Thou home of nature's he;ii"t, 
 
 For destiny compelled me 
 To rove in lands apart, ; 
 
 By islands green in azure, 
 
 Where vast St. Lawrence rolls 
 
 In temples where men treasure 
 The gifts that lore unfolds. 
 
 And by this lone Atlantic, 
 Or Hudson mountains high, 
 
 And Palisades romantic 
 
 Loom grey towards the sky. 
 
 And in the ceaseless thunder. 
 Of power that cannot pause ; 
 
 Niagara whose wonder 
 
 A thousand pilgrims draws. 
 
TO THE fJRAND KIVEH, PARIS. 
 
 161 
 
 •if 
 
 Yet, Pai'«s, tVoin such places 
 True memory would glide 
 
 Back to thy glades and graces, 
 And set those scenes aside, 
 
 And tendei'ly rekindle 
 
 Thy blooms till they return, 
 
 Asj when soft tiaybeams dwindle, 
 The lamps celestial burn, 
 
 Thy moonlit streams adorning 
 With stars that love to stay, 
 
 Till God's red angel, Morning, 
 Translates them into day, 
 
 With charms that need no changino-- 
 If dawn would leave its dyes — 
 
 When Gabriel's re-arranging 
 The w\)rld for Paradise. 
 
 By Nith where aspens cpuvei 
 In dews of scarlet, sheen, 
 
 And by the grand old Rivei", 
 The glory of the scene. 
 
 Shining on memory's arras. 
 
 Thro' undulating braes. 
 Till few surpass thee Paris 
 
 Of lands that |)oets praise. 
 
 A youth, with books of muses 
 Did often wander there ; 
 
 In dreams that fate refuses 
 Because for earth too fair. 
 
 u 
 
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 ¥ 
 
 I. , '^ji 
 
 
 El? 
 
 r 
 
 ? 1 
 
IG2 TO THE SAMK. 
 
 Fair as the wistful maiden. 
 
 Who on thy banks did dwell ; 
 Whose blush his spirit stayed in, 
 
 Like color in a shell. 
 
 She ruled a woi'ld of roses, 
 With purple eyes, and hair, 
 
 Such as pure vision shows us 
 In angel worlds they wear. 
 
 Zo tbe Same. 
 
 /^NCE more the white sun out of heaven descending, 
 ^^ From valley and summit is herding his beams; 
 But ere they are folded in twilight impending, 
 He leaves them to lave in this mftrvel of streams. 
 
 Wind softly, wave slowly by islands of splendoi-, 
 The angels of color come hither to lave, 
 
 Revere those immortals, the strong are the tender ; 
 River majestic be gentle of wave. 
 
 Be glad they prefer thee at evening and morning. 
 And also when moonlight o'ersilvers the scene 
 
 With something resembling supernal adorning 
 Of lilies illuming thy roseate sheen 1 
 
 Wherein as in mirrors, the stars are transplanted, 
 The star-lands celestial are blooming with thine ; 
 
 Ah ! why art thou left in, thy channel unchanted 
 While thousands re-echo the praise of the Rhine ? 
 
 L 
 
A HHOKKN NKHT. 
 
 163 
 
 Yet tlio' no famed bard by thy water has wandertMl, 
 With anthems triumphant like Tiber of o\d ; 
 
 No Burns on thy braes o'er liis destiny pondered ; 
 Tliy shores will be sought and thy story be told. 
 
 A poet will rise from the oncoming ages, 
 
 His advent resembling the dawning of flame, 
 
 With thee this strong minstrel shall brighten his pages, 
 And set thy deep waves to the music of fame. 
 
 a ffirohen IHest. 
 
 "k'^n 
 
 m 
 
 MS ruined, by a sad mischance, 
 Your house of floss, and eleijance 
 Of leaves, wherein you lived. 
 
 How often good intents are vain ! 
 
 So have 1 harmed you, and your strain. 
 Like mine, is truly grieved. 
 
 Gold, if we had it to invest, 
 Could never buy another nest, 
 
 That such as you would live in ; 
 For you, like all the songful kind. 
 Are less to trafficking inclined 
 
 Than lilting up to heaven. 
 
 But, lo, there's many a floral spot 
 ..Deep in this arborescent grot 
 
 To build another nest in ; 
 Yet am I sad for what is done. 
 Since you have foes, — ah who has none 
 
 Of that there is no question. 
 
 'i\ 
 
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 ■J J ! . 
 
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 164 A IJUOKKN NKST. 
 
 So had your fellow once — a inousi', 
 Lost all his labor and his houso 
 
 Which he had frnined togctl^'r, 
 By |)l()Uglinian IJurns, your fellow bard, 
 And being kind he took it hard 
 ' Because of wintry weatlier. 
 
 
 He much deplored that manhood's mii^ht 
 Encroaches on the creature's right, 
 
 And blamed our misbehaviour ; 
 Then drew a likeness twixt his fate, 
 And of the mouse made desolate, 
 
 'Twas in the mouse's favor. 
 
 Burns might have mentioned in that ode 
 
 The lofty attributes bestowed 
 
 On him above tlie brute ; " 
 
 His singing soul that ever lifts 
 
 His fellows with transcendent gifts 
 Was of its future mute. 
 
 But vou have plenty sunnnei' vet, 
 Hence do not in misfortune fret, 
 
 Nor croon unhap[)y hymns : 
 Time and yourself can cure your loss 
 With maidenhair and golden moss 
 
 Among securer limbs. 
 
 I seldom hint advice, but, thrush, 
 Build on some brook-o'erhangi?ig Inish, 
 
 Or pond that lilies float on ; 
 But not so near a human home, 
 For I perceive your troubles come, 
 
 Like mine, from those we dote on. 
 
©ctobcr Moo^i\ 
 
 Its soft leaves woiunl me with a j^rief 
 W'liost' IkiIsuih iievoi' grew. 
 
 m 
 
 ,CTORER, like the fallen robe 
 Of innpiiation, clothes the globe 
 'V)^In marvellous array ; 
 
 While he, Elijah of the sky, 
 Chief priest of nature, upon hii;li 
 Wheels his unhindered way. 
 
 " Who i.s this king of morning ( " Sol, 
 A monarch immemorial, 
 • Uunrivalled and alone ; 
 
 Triumphant-glancing, incen.se tianu- 
 Before him, ceaseless, first of fame. 
 He fills hi.s skyey throne. 
 0' 
 
 m 
 
166 OCTOBER WOODS. 
 
 Bow tree, ye trembling maples mix 
 Lush garlands over vernal creeks ; 
 
 Bow lowly and behold 
 Inverted firmaments agleam 
 Comminfflincv in a carmine stream. 
 
 And uncomputed gold. 
 
 These anei<3nt maple aisles, and pine, 
 ' Filled full of morn refulgent shine 
 
 Like light from painted panes 
 Of old cathedrals' sainted glass, 
 In here where countless Sabbaths pass 
 
 Uncheered b}' Sabbath strains. 
 
 " What are those strains ? " to understand 
 That happiness is near at hand, 
 
 And to the peaceful clings ; 
 That wisdom's ways are not of war, 
 And ))eac • is preferable far 
 
 To all ambition brin^rs. 
 
 Make way y«; tilmy clouds, ye leaves, 
 With innate glory tinge<l, and eve's 
 
 Low to the valley come ; 
 Some eddy slow in hazy air 
 As loth to leave a realm so fair, 
 
 Resembling pride ; for some 
 
 With scarlet oarlands mantle o er 
 The fragrant forest's vermil tloor, 
 
 Relieved by tufts of grass ; 
 Tn places worn completely through, 
 Where cattle to the liquid blue 
 
 To quench their thirstings pass. 
 
4 
 
 I '4 ' 
 
 I I" 
 
 V OCTOBER WOODS. 
 
 And so tliis month, as beautiful 
 As a disrobing bride, lets fall 
 
 Her exquisite array, 
 While Sol, her bridegroom from the sky 
 Enkindles all her charms, we siah, 
 
 O stay, sweet creature, stay I 
 
 Some dew upon the feathery feiris 
 Remains till eventide returns 
 
 Enflamed like diamoml stone ; 
 The songs of all the birds that sino- 
 The thoughtless gladness of the Spring 
 
 Now take a farewell tone. 
 
 So Fall I'esembles the reizret 
 
 Of one whose duty would not let 
 
 His heart its hope obtain ; 
 To whom the gods have been unkind 
 But who, by innate foice of mind, 
 
 Has bafHed them and pain. 
 
 For tho' the land by summer bh st, 
 And every bird hath done its bt'>t 
 
 To cheer from hill to shore ; 
 Why is there in the midst of this 
 A sometning which we always mi>,s ^ 
 
 A song we hear no more ? 
 
 Is it that one is fai- away 
 Who is to memoi'v as the dav, 
 
 A light wherein we see 
 A life above the life we live, ' 
 
 A life which peace alone can give, 
 
 A lit\' with such as thee ? 
 
 1G7 
 
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HHMn 
 
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 168 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Zo a friend 
 
 ,NE day when some demons were making 
 
 A home in my spirit for pain, 
 'Yf' j^And hope appeared bent upon taking 
 
 His flight to return not again, 
 There came in my presence a vision 
 
 Who spoke such kind words of concern, 
 Those demons withdrew their derision. 
 
 And hope had a mind to return. 
 
 Peview every verdurous valley 
 
 By rivulets golden and blue, 
 Where starbeams with daisy -buds dally, 
 
 When dawning makes diamonds of dew ; 
 Alas, for the fame of their beauty 
 
 Can ne'er with her kindness compaie, 
 Who made it her delicate duty 
 
 To feel for a sinner in care. 
 
 Bring vintage vivacious in flavor, 
 
 With spikenard and spices of mint, 
 Wild syrup translucent of savor, 
 
 In redolent Hajrons aglint. 
 Bring nectar of roses, assorted 
 
 From the kingdom of eglantine June ; 
 And with love be her harper transported, 
 
 For a dance in the light of the moon. 
 
 [i I 
 
 lUli 
 
TO A FRIEND. 
 
 For her dancing resembles devotion, 
 
 And a sermon to such as eondenm ; 
 And a vapor in zephyry motion, 
 
 And lilies to lovers of them. 
 Of miguionette and of roses 
 
 Men think when they think about her ; 
 And straightway her piesence discloses 
 
 Such feelings as antliems confer. 
 
 169 
 
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 From looms of the east should her dresses 
 
 Be woven, of tyrian stain ; 
 And of shell-tinted satin ; Iier tresses 
 
 Looped up with a diamonded chain. 
 A zone for her waist, which is fairer , 
 
 Than ])arian statues of Greece; 
 And these may the gods to the wearer 
 
 Be frequently pleased to increase. 
 
 dl 
 
 'Twere rude to bedim a new spirit 
 
 By hinting of hoping in vain ; 
 Yet sorrr ; mav come, even merit 
 
 Oft gi'oans on a pillow of pain ; 
 Tlien ma}' j'^ou rely on a being, 
 
 All trust}' when troubles decend ; 
 No buttertiv flatterer, fleeinu' 
 
 From storms, but forever a friend. 
 
 I . 
 
170 
 
 MV SCHOOLMATK. 
 
 fID? Schoolmate. 
 
 RAGRANT winds o'er Flanihoro blowing, 
 Green the dandelioned lea ; 
 ;)Azure golden river flowing 
 
 Where she went to school with nie. 
 
 Here's the Hall, the garden yonder, 
 Here the gate fVoin which, to be 
 
 Severed leagues, we both did wander, 
 Sir.?e she went from school and me. 
 
 Years have flown like blossoms thither, 
 
 From our tysting lilac tree ; 
 Every fall they earlier wither 
 
 Since she went to school with me. 
 
 Drooping vines the arbor shading 
 Where the wren sang ; where is she ? 
 
 Fall is for her absence f'adino- 
 
 Since she went from school and me. 
 
 Through yon bars the herd is straying, 
 And her milk pail by the tree 
 
 Rusts because of her delaying, 
 Since she went to school with me. 
 
 T alone of all the parted 
 
 Come to gaze and sigh to see 
 How the sunshine seems down-hearted, 
 
 Since she went from school and me. 
 
.ICE. 
 
 3oc* 
 
 171 
 
 5 i 
 
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 AM roving along by the plow, 
 
 The plow that you used to hold 
 When a blue bird sang in a maple bough, 
 In the days already old. 
 
 We buried your boy on the hill, 
 
 Because he to evil inclined ; 
 He was witty and active and comely until 
 
 Iniquity weakened his mind. 
 
 Your wife is yet waiting for you, 
 
 So come from your region of vice ; 
 It is certain she's ever been constent and tiiie. 
 
 For she never got married but twice. 
 
 I will write you a letter ere long 
 
 In view that your morals will mend ; 
 
 For I fear, since your reason was never quite strong, 
 You may come to a terrible end. 
 
 Hlli 
 
 I 
 
 1 '■'■ 
 
 The evening is turning to grey 
 
 Like moss on the edge of a sliroud ; 
 
 And a whip-poor-will sings such a pitiful lay 
 That the moon wipes her eyes with a c oud. 
 
TT 
 
 172 
 
 DEAD MEATS HYMN. 
 
 Dca& fficare 1b?mn. 
 
 O! each dull v/rotch that feels a stitch 
 
 'Neath memory's ribs to see 
 The numerous glorious chances which 
 
 May come no moie to thee ; 
 Let us sue heaven for a divovco 
 
 From recollection's pains ; 
 O for a respite from remoi'se 
 
 High on empyrean plains ! 
 
 I loDcj to live in Paradise 
 
 For reasons of my own, 
 There swarms of duns can never rise, 
 
 There bailifis are unkno\\n. 
 Strike all your harps, ye debtors poor, 
 
 Ye creditors be still, 
 For death can settle eveiy score 
 
 And pay that little bill. 
 
 I long to live in Paradise 
 
 In mansions fiee of rent ; 
 No water rates, nor wine excise — , 
 
 No money cent per cent ; 
 And there, at last, I have been told, 
 
 Small debts are never due 
 To those who larceny for gold, 
 
 That hard usurious crew. 
 
 i 
 
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 mmmmm 
 
DEAD beat's hymn. 
 
 173 
 
 • I 
 
 Instead of such liosanna choirs 
 
 Of seraphim all fair, 
 To soothe the aching heart's desires, 
 
 If there arc aches up there ; 
 In streets ilhunined not with gas — 
 
 pearl and golden streets. 
 Where all your dreams shall come to pass, 
 
 Ye desolate dead beats ! 
 
 No more they'll sue our signature 
 
 To that protested bill, 
 Because the bank's forever sure 
 
 On Zion's golden hill ; 
 We will not then, ye poor give praise ! 
 
 Be forced to shun or sham, 
 By dodging down the alleyways 
 
 Of New Jerusalem. 
 
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 If Eden's fairer than that shore 
 
 Where first love's roses shime, 
 I'll not regret to go there more 
 
 Than some that I have gone ; 
 For tho' twas gay on streams of flags 
 
 To sport in youth's green spring, 
 But, 0, life's river's full of snags. 
 
 And all that sort of thing. 
 
 We will not snub vou, Azrael, 
 If ye should come for good ; 
 
 For then my foes may turn from bale 
 Who erstwise scarcely would, 
 
^■m 
 
 Jll 
 
 174 
 
 TKAMFS. 
 
 To where they lent their earthly stores, 
 E'en they may follow soon — 
 
 'Twere peace to see our creditors 
 Beyond the starrv inoo!!. 
 
 ffiouquet. 
 
 'HIS pink was given to me by Bell 
 ^1 Alone one day in June ; 
 ■^^^T So much she grieved to say farewell 
 I knew she'd marr}^ soon. 
 
 This tuberose gentle Josie gave ; 
 
 Its leaves no longer ope — 
 I think it grew on love's young grave, 
 
 The epitaph of hope. 
 
 Fan urged me never to forget 
 
 This flag she soon forgot ; 
 She was an excellent coquette 
 
 And earned a lonely lot. 
 
 Move on dear tramps o'er memory's waste, 
 
 Mute Hagers of the mind ; 
 Farewell — too far to be embraced, 
 
 Too near t(» be resigned. 
 
.lOSlH. 
 
 3o0ic. 
 
 HE scarce could smile for laughing' 
 
 To think of ine, but when 
 ^^Our parting chalice ([uatting, 
 
 We were not mirthful then. 
 Then was her smile withholden 
 
 Because of our distress, 
 As evenino- fiovvers fold in 
 
 Their fragrant loveliness. 
 
 We spake no words of cheeritig, 
 
 Words were so out of place, 
 So pensively endearing 
 
 Tlie palor of her face. 
 How strange, the kindred hlendiiig 
 
 Of souls in tenderness, 
 Should ever have an ending 
 
 80 desolate as this. 
 
 Some vesper birds were chanting 
 
 About the ^<'tting sun, 
 As it they were lamenting 
 
 Our happiness undone ; 
 As if they sang ; adieu, love, 
 
 It is in vain to now, 
 I cannot be untrue love, 
 
 But all is ended now. 
 
 175 
 
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 176 
 
 THK HI'INMNU WIIKKL. 
 
 Zbc SpinniuG MbecL 
 
 ^tte^RE is the vale, the ehii tioe and the oak, 
 '^^ All leat'-crowned still — 
 
 The old log bain ! ah, it was here awoke 
 
 My heart's first thrill. 
 Here was life's sunniest spot, the fond low tone, 
 
 Hope's bliss made real. 
 All ruled by one whose slaves were hearts, whose throne 
 
 A spinning wheel. 
 
 'Twas on the wheat-floor of this same old barn, 
 
 One morning, she 
 Set me to hold a skein of tangled yarn, 
 
 And tangled me. 
 Yes, it was here tlie fairy came to spin, 
 
 And I to reel 
 The lon£;, long thread from love's conuningled skein 
 
 Round Fate's strange wheel. 
 
 All the perfection sixteen Junes could shed 
 
 Was her sweet share. 
 Soft auburn glories clustered round her head— 
 
 Ah, she was fair ! 
 Yet did not seem to know the thread she spun 
 
 With so much zeal. 
 Was the beginning of a finei* one 
 
 By that same wheel. 
 
'! 
 
 UliU STEPMKN. 
 
 Tliouifh I have been afar niv heart will pay 
 
 A reverence still, 
 E'en to this old neglecteil l)ain of grey 
 
 Beside the hill. 
 And often as the spirits of the year 
 
 Fresli flowers reveal, 
 Thro' memory's pleasing avenues I hear 
 
 The spinning wheel. 
 
 17 
 
 I- 
 I 
 
 ine 
 
 ®l^ Stephen. 
 
 (A III ltd K.) 
 
 ii^ ; 
 
 !in 
 
 'jE>K labor laid l)y.till wo sing of old Stephen, 
 (y;— A song he deserves, and a s[iell of the mii^ •; 
 The faults of his life may you never believe in, 
 
 Nor his wlio recounts thetn ; but do as you ehoose. 
 
 Old Stephen believed it was wrong to be soi)er — 
 Alas, 'tis the creed of too many we know — 
 
 As his heart was not hard, like a clod in Octoltor, 
 He often (fot hio-h to keep memorv low. , 
 
 I knew of his orchard, wherein, a mere urchin, 
 
 I often dela3'ed my inspection until 
 The schoolmaster tauefht me the weight of his birch, in 
 
 His schoolhouse that stood by a tree on the hill. 
 
 (v 
 
ii 
 
 17S 
 
 OIJ> STI'.niKN. V 
 
 That scIiodI, where I urca<h'<l to ijo as to prison, 
 With tasks still niiloni'iiotl, wlien a boll did rocall 
 
 Our stops to tht! class, ami tl»o taws ami tho lesson : 
 Some picture maps hung on tin? ponuil-niarked wall. 
 
 ITis portrait resond)le<l the; picture of Pluto, 
 
 Which hung l»y the door of my grand fatlier's hall ; 
 
 His head was an orango tinge, countenance ditto, 
 But great was tlie heart th.at beat under it all. 
 
 So peaceful was he that you could not excite him, 
 So learned that starvation oi't stood by his door, 
 
 So hom^st that all men delighted to clieat him, 
 The consequence was, he died perfectly poor. 
 
 In the desolate boneyard they buried his body — 
 His spirit had left it .some evenings before — 
 
 He died in his rocking-chair, sipping hot toddy, 
 The toddy was spilled on tlio dining-room tloor. 
 
 No more will the dinui'r-horn call him to .>^upper, 
 No more will the barntioor resound to his Hail ; 
 
 No more ride his hoi'.se with a grist to the hopper, 
 Nor tend to the sugar bush over the swale. 
 
 Regret is not great foi' the loss of the lovely, 
 The poor are expected to yield up their breath ; 
 
 He paid unto nature the debt of his folly ; 
 And took a receipt from the angel of death. 
 
 Yet fate makes us ponder, for once he was puie ; 
 
 His childhood dear reader was cherished like thine. 
 We all may sail down immorality's sewer, 
 
 Or sing with white seraphs forever divine. 
 
LINKS TO A I,Al>\. 
 
 17i» 
 
 I 
 
 lince to a la^v). 
 
 ^A;ror Idok like tin; maid who tlclii^Mitcd my Ijitii'V. 
 ^^^' Wlicn Ijeaiity \\v»t kiiidli.'d its dclicatci Joy ; 
 She cauie to <»iif l)an»yai'd one liarvost witli Nancy. 
 Our sister was Nancy when I was a Ixty. 
 
 Ilci' clioeks woic tl;c shell hhishe's L;'arhind ol lilio, 
 Her step [)!it tin- fawn of the forest to shame ; 
 
 liei- voice — ()li, hei- voice, was as l^rookh'ts in valleys, 
 Tliose eyis! to exphiin them were certainly of rami- 
 
 Bewildered, I blushed to fac»' such a heholder, 
 
 Just come fiom a hiuiiinn' Ijce down on our farm ; 
 
 A fork full of liay dangled ovtsr one shoulder, 
 An armful of provendei- under one arm. 
 
 ■ My i;<Lrli was besnu-ared, and my hat huii^ in tatters, 
 Drawn over a countenance comely but dim — 
 
 ft- 
 
 The hat, once a silk one, so long from the hatters, 
 But little was left save the ribbon and rim. 
 
 All this she beheld and did kindly endeavor, 
 To banish the symptoms of boyish distress ; 
 
 Then came the sweet truth tliat will linu'Lir forever, 
 That women of worth never slifrjit a poor dress. 
 
 Thus wisdom yublime, and experience taught me. 
 That sensitive worth is most easily hurt ; 
 
 And honor in patches a parable brought me : 
 The meanest of men often wear the best shirt. 
 
180 
 
 THE BATHING STAR. 
 
 Ihc ffiatbino Stan 
 
 -J WAS June, aiid I as usual at eveu 
 
 Was loitering ovei' nature's loveliness, 
 p)^" When roses pale and stars dilate in heaven, 
 And birds are still, pained by the sweet excess. 
 
 Dreamful reposing on a bank obscurely 
 I did not notice till too late to leave — 
 
 Comparison with serai)him would poorly- 
 Bode forth the form that river did receive. 
 
 Haloed in nimbus, tho' her robes fell round hei', 
 Softly like Hesper's shade of purple shine, 
 
 The vestal tendril's lovingly enwound her, 
 Whereat one spirit longed to be a vine. 
 
 The shore, as to the willing wave she waded, 
 
 Was sentiently Jealous of the wave ; 
 And similarly was a soul invaded — 
 
 The luxury of loveliness to lave. 
 
 The sandals from my feet I loosed, believing 
 The scene was sacred as the burning bush 
 
 Of Ethiope's exile, and removed conceiving 
 Spirits unseen were hovering in its hush. 
 
 A faith in angel's visits some may censure ; 
 
 But underneath those jturple veils of haii, 
 1 mused, while wending homeward, peradventure 
 
 Wings may have been — I have no doubt they were. 
 
 . 
 
! -S 
 
 WEDDINC CAKE. 
 
 !8j 
 
 Mc^^itu3 dahc. 
 
 ONCE, it (litl not scum tluit tliou 
 
 Wouldst ever Heml diis morsel rare 1 
 The crust looks savory, but just now 
 I have wo appetite to share. 
 
 A golden-edged wi'ap|)er and contents 
 Tied with an azure-silken twine — 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs'. comj)linients ; " 
 And this is all that mav^ be mine. 
 
 No need to tell me that '■ the bride 
 Looked lovely robed in mauvy white" 
 
 1 learned that on the mountain side, 
 And won her in the |)ale moonlight. 
 
 Tis said they travel on a tour 
 
 Until the honeymoon 's away ; 
 Ah well ! I wish them joy I'm sure; 
 We all must journey far some day. 
 
 Here is a ring, a wreath, a rose, 
 
 And some tbnd verses with them aivun " 
 the sweet song ! I wished my foes. 
 
 When first 1 heard it, all in heaven. 
 
 Be still, my heart ; a slice of cake, 
 The labelled renuiant of devotion, 
 
 Ought not in common reason, shakf 
 Thy pulse to such a sti'ange emotion. 
 
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 18L' to THK llUi>80\. 
 
 ^0 tbc 1but)9on. 
 
 MONG the many dreams of youn<; ambition 
 
 Was one that she who should all else excel, * 
 Would like some o-oddess rulinaf lost elvsian. 
 High on the mountains of the Hudson dwell. 
 
 Broad stream of molten beryl, and gold, inspiring 
 Doubly all bards who gifted were before 
 
 The gazed upon thy grander, the desiring 
 Of hope has been fulfilled upon thy shore. 
 
 Tell her when near thy wave slie wanders early — 
 Mistake her not, Hudson, for the moon, 
 
 Or morn new risen all rich in star-mist pearly, 
 Bent on a bath, ere day thy hills adorn — 
 
 Tell her by flowery signs of airy splendor — 
 
 Thou knowest, for she is near to thee, how strong 
 
 A ])oet feels, and deep ; and do thou send her 
 His love, and he'll reward thee with a song: 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Triumphant was thy nation's grand endeavor 
 The yoke despised, of slavery, to break 
 
 As breaks the summer o'er thee, O great River ! 
 So may the world to libei'ty awake : 
 
 But grant me no such freedom from oppression 
 Of her enslaving smile, and there will be 
 
 No blither twain to grace thy proud procession 
 From Germantown to the desiriug sea. 
 
A DEWDKOF. 
 
 a DcwDiop. 
 
 183 
 
 .'ml 
 
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 I 
 
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 1 
 
 i^>aNE uiurniuu' in the seavsoii nearly over 
 Slowly alony a forest meadow roUeil 
 "~<3)^Strange shapes of mist above the fadiiii;' clover, 
 And all the air held voices LmcoiisoIi;d. 
 
 The farewell anthem of a cricket sounded 
 Ref^rett'ully from out the fragrant grass : 
 
 In hazy azure dreamy hues abounded, 
 But thro' it all the morning came to pass. 
 
 'Twas then a drop of dew began to gli miner, 
 
 Moi'e scintillant than any ever seen. 
 'Twas but one drop in millions, 3'et its shinmuir 
 
 Contained the; light of every June that's been. 
 
 To lind the fjcus of its living splendor 
 
 I turned back frequently, alas, in vain, 
 The gem was gone — no monarch in his granilfur 
 'V Could give its glory to that drop again. 
 
 'Tis ever so in life; the light excessive 
 
 Flashes a transient gleam, and lo, 'tis gon<.' ; 
 
 And year by year this lesson so impressive 
 Forever leaves the thoughtful heart more lone. 
 
 Ah, well, if irksome solitary duty 
 
 Is strengthened by discouragement unseen. 
 
 Haply we'll find, while looking for lost beauty, 
 A faith in what v/ill be from what has been. 
 
 '^i 
 
 n 
 
184 FALL lilUDS. 
 
 jfall ffiir^0. 
 
 i^^l^HE wild geese have observed that iiuw 
 Their time of Hioht has eome ; 
 
 rt" 
 
 And high above the haze they go 
 Far off to fields of bloom. 
 
 The wren forsakes his hollow knot, 
 
 Wherein a nest was made, 
 For waving pahns in climates hot 
 
 When here the forests fade. 
 
 The blackbirds chant the groves among 
 
 On vibrant branches sere ; 
 Loquacious, an innumerous throng, * 
 
 All slowly southward steer. 
 
 The golden rod and ferny fronds 
 
 In final colors glow : 
 But fading flags o'er purple ponds 
 
 Still bathe in blue below. 
 
 The whip-poor-will alone at night 
 
 His vigil did console, 
 Witii lilting strange, in stary flight 
 
 Has sought a southern goal. 
 
 No comrade, poet, lark, or wren 
 More welcome than he was. 
 
 Beside the stream of some green glen. 
 To plead his mystic cause. 
 
T' 
 
 '-1 I' 
 
 FALL niRDS. 
 
 Ah yes — we blush to recollect — 
 Some maples tlo the same — 
 
 Ail other music met neirlect 
 
 When here the woodthrush came. 
 
 And when the win(>ed jBolian stiain 
 Took autuUin flioht from here, 
 
 The very verdure strove in vain 
 To hide each dewy tear. 
 
 His songs revive the times of yore 
 
 Till heariuor seems to see 
 A brook beside a cottao-e door 
 
 Where two were glad to be. 
 
 Tliere grew tlie same coriiation ro.se 
 
 And there tlui hollyhocks, 
 A brook along the vailoy flows 
 
 And murmurs over rocks. 
 
 Near by an azure mill-pond glowed 
 
 Its cedar baidvs V)etween, 
 And o'er its blue our boat we rowe'l, 
 
 in autumn's mottled sheen. 
 
 Now faney sitting it the shadi; 
 
 Looks out ui)on that sun, 
 Pleased with the picture she has made 
 
 So delicatelv done. 
 
 And softly breathes a sigh that there. 
 Nor here, that conjured .scene: 
 
 () why is nothing half so fair 
 
 As that which rnighf have have lieen ^ 
 
 l^ 
 
 M' i 
 
ill 
 iiii 
 
 li 
 
 186 
 
 TO A FANCY FICTURK. 
 
 Ho a ]fanc\) picture, 
 
 /^HEN the glowing west awakens 
 Thouii'ht C()no;enial to tliat hour ; 
 
 When the trembling- spirit quickens, 
 With its aesthetic power ; 
 
 When the bosom is elated 
 
 With sti-ange spectres floating by, 
 Then it was thou wert created, 
 
 With too little eartli to die. 
 
 He who painted thee percliance has 
 Passed along the weaves away ; 
 
 Still thou art, tho' time advances. 
 Still thou art the same to-day. 
 
 Jy^'lKE morn to the water reniendn-ance returns 
 
 The bright day I brought her among the low ferns. 
 Like niirht to the ocean and stoi-m t(j the main 
 
 My spirit's devotion was darkened to pain. 
 The scene was secluded and low in a dell. 
 
 The wild roses wooed it, with exquisite smell. 
 Serene was the weather and azure the sky. 
 
 We wandered together my chosen and I. 
 
 The hope that we cherished has faded away, 
 
 Too suddenly perished, too pure to delay; 
 Henceforth by that river no roses recline, 
 
 Thy pathway forever is parted from mine. 
 The music is ended, the eglantine dead, . 
 
 Its fragrance ascended forever and tied. 
 Now changed is the weather the world and the sky, 
 
 We go not together, my chosen and 1. 
 
rx MlvMOHV OF ANNA C. 
 
 187 
 
 I 
 
 
 3n fll>cmorv of anna C. 
 
 
 
 . (OK GRKKNsVlliLE). 
 
 
 
 ■♦--♦■ 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 /Glj 1^1 KU to tliee Anna, forever tidiou, 
 Lc^J/My memory's inaniia my star of the l)!u(\ 
 
 5"'' A. light is in heaven but night follows noon 
 When those we l)elieve in depart, () too soon. 
 
 ■' 
 
 
 No lovelier vision did ever arise 
 Than was' thy transition from here to the skies. 
 They knew thou wert huidered beh»w, atid alone, 
 And hence thy higl^ kindred lai<] claim to tlieir own. 
 
 t 
 
 en IS, 
 
 Tho' dreary to sunder forever and aye, 
 We scarcely do wonder they took thee away ; 
 The rose is not fated, oi- love, to stay long, 
 Where souls are not mated excepting in wrong. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 My peace to thee, sui-eiy 'tis little to give ; 
 Yet ever more purely the love that will live, 
 Till passing the portal we hear the same strain 
 That made thee innnortal o'er pas.sion and pain. 
 
 
 
 'Twere rapture to greet thee in regions all fair, 
 The seraphim meet thee and welcome thee there, 
 With harps of laudation beside the bright sea- 
 In sacred elation forever with thee. 
 
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CInistinasol goodly rites madcgliul this hou.sr 
 Its hearth smoke rose in incense to the nicoii. 
 The very snow lit softly on those houghs, 
 Mutely as moonlight, knowing of the time, 
 Now o'er it seems a hovering reverence, 
 Or memory of music heard no more. 
 
 5- _,'*J^^t"^ 
 
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 ShatiUij an^ IRowincj. 
 
 
 ^"Ic Itliscellaneous Poems. 3^ 
 
 
 " Tiei-'s anil Howers and brooks 
 Which do remembei' me of where I dwelt 
 
 Kie 111}' young mind was saorificied to Iwoks, 
 Come us of yore upon me, and can melt 
 
 My heart with recolleetion of their looks ; 
 And even at times I fancy I can see 
 Some living thing to love, hut none like thee. ' 
 
 HIS nnineles.s hamlft in a wilderness 
 I Stood on an upland near a livulet, 
 That wendinof sunward wed a little lake. 
 Much have we gazed upon of majesty, 
 In many a famous valley since that day, 
 But fail to recollect a lovelier vale. 
 Perchance associcition's prejudice 
 Has sonunvhat biassed judgment ; be it so. 
 This river comes out freshl^^ every dawn 
 
 From its !)ush liirth-place duly, trending east 
 
 To meet the tynan morn and dewy green ; 
 
 Its course one wreathed ovation thro' the vale. 
 
 Both shoreways carpeted with sylvan cloth, 
 
 Woven by May, and interfiliated 
 
 With va)>ory sheen of her cool vernal breath. 
 
 Arches triumphant built, of tamarac, 
 
; 
 
 I 
 
 
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 i M 
 
 190 
 
 KKATIN'f; AN'I) HOWlNf;. 
 
 Daik pine, and ot palo larulius whoremito 
 Was joined a host innuiiierablo of Hags 
 In Horal convocation ; et-lantine 
 Conspicuous for rudolence, and moss. 
 
 But cliiefly by tliis brook my plans weie laid 
 And fortiiied with cannon, of carved wood. 
 Beyond this mountain brow and eddy bay — 
 Mountain and eddy bay two feet by three — 
 Were eujpires, but one stream we Danube called 
 In compliment to Campbell's Soldier's Dream. 
 Here glowed the Golden Horn, here stood 8ta'.nb(jul 
 Abidos also, where Lord Byron swam. 
 
 This mimic Danube, like the larger stream, 
 Was born in glens of dimmest wilderness 
 Which left a shade of doubtfulness ; it came 
 Half waked at dawn into our vale of bloom. 
 Being duly hailed by infantile respect — 
 Because it was from climes we ne'er had seen — 
 While listening for the secrets which it told 
 To fish and fla.gs and to its warbling friends. 
 Sometimes it took a humorous delight 
 Misrepresenting all things on its banks 
 By genuflections in a mirage blurred, 
 And zigzag surface flashings o'er bright stont-s; 
 Or in the stillness of its bays transposed 
 Rose-trees top-downward deep in liquid gold. 
 Palms mimicked out of ferns, large hollyhocks, 
 Pansies and marigolds promiscuous mixed — 
 A medley made and panorama strange. 
 Beneath this misty bloom it strayed to where 
 A rocky gorge let in the rising sun. 
 

 SKA'I'I\(. AMI IMiUINfi. 
 
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 WlieretVom, likf li(jui(( iul>y in the liglil. 
 It taltcied uraccfnl tliirty fatlioms down. 
 Tlicnee by yyratinn' and ronumtic t-ourso 
 Kntored Ontario lovolv. 
 
 Ni-aitM' liunir 
 A mystic cedar .swani|'. and other groon, 
 A goodly background made tor Winter snow. 
 Where snowbirds, (inaii and |»iiea>ants shelter tcinul 
 
 Safe from tlie owl and hunger-prompted fox, 
 Whencearitler3ddeer,disturbed by wolves, rushed fortii, 
 
 Tents on that pond we l)uilt of ice and boughs, 
 And lit with Haming knots of scented fir. 
 

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 (716) 872-4503 
 
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19-2 
 
 VALE, VALK, SALVK KTKKNUM. 
 
 Then was the faery and the feasting time 1 
 
 Pranked trout procured from crystal orifices, 
 
 As soon as duly dead, served roasted brown. 
 
 White buns besmeared with honey, and bruised nuts 
 
 In curdy juice of concentrated June. 
 
 Also fond girls in fancy colored robes, 
 
 With facings of jned furs, otter and mink. 
 
 Coy hats of scarlet wool, red sashes gay. 
 
 Streaming like Jack-o'-lanterns 'midst green trees. 
 
 As o'er the blue transparency they glode • 
 
 In convolutions intricate, to songs. 
 
 ( 
 
 IDale, Dale, Salve fitenunn. 
 
 TliC'se verses arc in answer to a flue poem called "Honor the Uead," l).v A. II. 
 Wi'igfield, wherein he rebnked children for stealinfr flowers from the cemetery. 
 
 ^J^rl70UR song, dear sir, is excellent, but surely 
 <^^yyfj^ Those who have gone out to the other side 
 "-<o^(if?'May find such honor recompense them poorly 
 F'or all the sliirhts endured before thev died. 
 
 Better bequeath respect unto the living, 
 
 (Some word of comfort even sinners crave — 
 
 We know it by experience) than giving 
 Alms to the greedy solitary grave. 
 
!! 
 
 VALE, VALE, SALVE KTEUNUM. 193 
 
 Earth's troubles will be over when we leave it ; 
 
 There is no proof that spirits weep or si<^h : 
 Honor the dead, but how can they receive it, 
 
 Unless we honor them before they die ? 
 
 At times all feel some silent desolation, 
 The craving for one sympathetic word 
 
 Which, tho' we own it not, may be salvation, 
 If fitly spoken by a friend preferred ; 
 
 But if it comes not, then, when o'er death's ocean 
 
 The spirit wings its solitary way. 
 Give not to dust thy long delayed devotion ; 
 
 Dust cannot feel nor any detr loved clay. 
 
 Theie may be some neglected j)atient spouses 
 By no kind word rewarded year by year, 
 
 In whose fond hearts theii- daily dut}' rouses 
 No hope of peace except Ijeyond the biei'. 
 
 Go to them or their oiphans ere they vanish 
 Out in the daik, and honor them and bless — 
 
 Grand monuments o'er empires dead astonish 
 The angels less than human tenderness. 
 
 Who heeds the list of maiden cares unnoted, 
 The smiling torture borne to bafHe shamed 
 
 While facing ruin, true to vows devoted, 
 
 With love that turns her very flesh to tiame. 
 
 For there 's a secret which defies revealing : 
 Worse than death s desecration ai'e the arts 
 
 Of those fine fiends who make a sport of stealing 
 The flowers of hope from loving human hearts. 
 
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194 
 
 VALE, VALK, SALVE ETERNUM. 
 
 Tell the poor suicide eie she may finisli 
 The task of pain which Deity prepares, 
 
 That trouble conies to perfect, not (Umiiiisli, 
 
 Millions have entered heaven by sorrow's stairs. 
 
 Tlie holy dead may heed no desecration ; 
 
 And as for the unholy gliosts, alas, 
 ThejT^ care still less, if they have lost salvation, 
 
 Whether their bones are cased in ijjold or grass. 
 
 And tor the poet, let some word be sj)oken 
 
 Beside an epitaph upon his grave, 
 Before Discouragement's harsh hands have broken 
 
 These chords whose music helps to make us brave. 
 
 As he, enduring lofty desolation, 
 
 Like a pierced eagle on his crag, alone : 
 
 He did not choose his alien avocation ; 
 Nature's anointed have for bread a stone. 
 
 Steal blossoms from my grave, for they will withei* ; 
 
 Steal marble — if there may be any there ; 
 'Twill be the same soon as the soul Hits thither, 
 
 But faith in living goodness, ihat, O spare ! 
 
SWINRURXK. 
 
 1 !):. 
 
 
 Swinburne. 
 
 LINKS ON KKADINO ANACTORIA. 
 
 ^^^■^n^HAT cans't tliou otter God as an excuse 
 o:2^>j\^0 Swinburne, for thy desecrated muse i* 
 -^■rt^ ^ Why sneer at reverend faith or sacred truth ^ 
 Why snatch the staff from age, the guide from youtli f 
 If faith be a delusion, let it be 
 
 Till something worthier comes ; comes it from thee ? 
 One fact stands firm in spite of all gainsay, 
 Hosts have had strength from what ye cast away, 
 From Job to Jesus, David to St. Paul. 
 Clasping the flaming stake or cup of gall. 
 Why did they choose such pangs, being wise, oh why, 
 If all's the same when good or batl men die ^ 
 
 Soul of sweet music tuned to words of wrath. 
 Why use thine inspiration lauding death ? 
 Thou strikst thy timbrels crying, here is good ! 
 The hungry find it mirage-gilded mud. 
 Gifted in .songs ablaze with rhythmic bruit 
 "to tempt us mortals unto Sodom's fruit. 
 
 Na}r ask me not " what right have ye to blame '' 
 Even sin cries out when poets put to shame 
 The gift that God has lent them for a space 
 To cheer their brethren in life's flint v race. 
 
 I urefe no homiletic diatribe 
 Of cant, to such let hypocrites subscribe ; 
 Nor claim one gift as equal to thine own. 
 Save, it may be, a faith in truth unknown. 
 
 I ill 
 
 ;ia 
 
 i; 
 
 I*' 
 
196 
 
 SWINBURNE. 
 
 My soul from sense hath likewise many a scar, 
 Like one nigh wrecked beyond the harbor bar ; 
 Yet self-condemiied, I'll reverence, not deride, 
 Like Peter, that which Heaven has puritied. 
 
 And dost thou salve thy conscience and maintain 
 Thou art no teacher ? That were also vain. 
 All souls are teachers, poets most of all ; 
 Thy very music, minstrel, is God's call ; 
 But, ah, those words, they are not from the sky, 
 They call from Hell ; thou answerest, " here am L" . 
 The blasphemy, 'gainst which God's doors are slammed 
 Jars ope the brimstone portals of the damned. 
 Who lift their scowling e^'^es from hissing spume 
 To curse the fools who fill the howling gloom ; 
 Curse all connection with their crimes which swell 
 Woe's wormwood waves in scepticism's Hell. 
 
 But truth's white stone in Salem's temple placed 
 
 By the great Builder was designed and graced 
 
 For purposes not all revealed to man — 
 
 To mar one stone would mar the whole vast plan. 
 
 As wisely blame the vault of blue, O bard. 
 
 As mystery, solely such to men sin-marred. 
 
 Presumptuous thus might streams refuse to run. 
 
 Or stars to shine because they're not the sun. ^ 
 
 Tliere lurks some lore in ill, tho' to our sight 
 
 Tenebrous ; yea, whatever is is right 
 
 In that broad sense which we may some day know — 
 
 Bards, prophets, mart3'rs, science prove it so. 
 
 Doubtless all men have questionings perplexed ; 
 
 What then ? What this world hinders wait the next. 
 
LONGFKLLOW, 
 
 19" 
 
 To every jttioplc, to all tongues, all clime.s 
 In gracious sermons, and in goodly rhymes, 
 Some truth is said or sung, and thou and T 
 Need preach no more than biid, or breeze, or sky, 
 Nor need we any more blaspheme than they, 
 Because some storm obscures the summer day. 
 Peace to thine inspiration, demigod ! 
 Thro' trouble comes peifection, bear the rod : 
 Awake thy gifts to elevate — wh3' not ^. 
 A song insulting God on earths foi'got 
 
 ^^ 
 
 lon^fcHow. 
 
 K/jUt^ one who wandered I'ei- an arid waste 
 
 '^'t Nigh fainting in Adversity's monsoon, 
 A l)ard dejected as a lamp at noon, 
 Heard songs of home, and so his path retraced ; 
 So come I humbly, stumbling in my haste, 
 
 To thank thee for thy ]>raises and thy boon ; 
 
 For they revive, as rain on flowers aswoon 
 That gaze from dearth to a deserted sky ; 
 
 But, after storms, by sunlight more inspired. 
 0, P.salm, like David's, answering the cry 
 
 Of one who thought of yielding ; being tired ! 
 Likewise Excelsior had lived in vain, 
 And fond Evangeline, but for thy strain 
 To teach us as they lived we too may live and die. 
 
I 
 
 pi :■ 
 
 198 AfiNOSTlCISM. 
 
 a(ntostici6nu 
 
 N spite of all agnostics say, 
 
 Or infidels ignore, 
 The world is nearer God to-day 
 
 Than e'er it was of yore. 
 
 Who walked in Eden walketh still, 
 
 As full of pity now, 
 For all who say: Teach me Thy will, 
 
 And to obey, O Th(»u ! 
 
 Yet we place thorns upon His head ' 
 
 Who every good bestowed ; 
 We pierce tlie hands that gave us bread, 
 
 Then blind with sin blame God. 
 
 Should the blind say thtjre is no sun 
 
 Because by him unseen. 
 The martyrs ; all they bore and won, 
 
 Have they for nothing been ? 
 
 We own their migiity lore of old 
 
 And all the prophets knew. 
 With worlds of science since unrolled. 
 
 For wisdom's vast review. 
 
 To bind this knowledge as a sheaf, 
 
 Our spirits to sustain, 
 With wisdom's golden band, belief, 
 
 Is not to toil in vain. 
 
fl 
 
 KPllAFIl. 
 
 199 
 
 Nay, we should scatter tVuin this uge, 
 
 For that vvhicli is to come, 
 The seeds of our j^retit heritage 
 
 That shall forever blooiu. 
 
 Not yieldino- scant ingratitude, 
 
 But, bowed in reverence, own 
 Both Heaven aiid earth are tornied for fjood. 
 
 And governed from one throne. 
 
 Sin may have purposes divine ; 
 
 That worlds all ]>iire on high, 
 Thus show^n the evils of our line. 
 
 So warned, shall never die ; 
 
 Than wdiom we may more j)erfect he 
 
 By chastisen)ont of pain, 
 And bv the scarlet cross where He 
 
 ft/ 
 
 Was for Airnostics slain. 
 
 But soon shall Piety for bride 
 
 Take Science by the hand, 
 And at Truth's fane be sanctified 
 
 With love's eternal band. 
 
 For more enlightened millions pray 
 
 Than ever, yea, far more. 
 In spite of all Agnostics say, 
 
 Or infidels ionore. 
 
 
 ,f 
 
 i 
 
 
 m 
 
 Ah ! though thy gentle soul has t^one 
 Back to the God who gave. 
 
 Remembrance will not let this stone 
 Grow mossy o'er thy grave. 
 
 I 
 
200 
 
 CONVKXTIONALITY IN CHURCH. 
 
 Conventionality in Cbnrcb. 
 
 ER prayers are framed precise whate'er the issue , 
 And, like her vestment, eut conventional : 
 ^X^Fine unobtrusive tints in silken tissue — 
 (jrod scarce can save one in a wrinkled shawl. 
 
 Tell not in Gath that 'twas Ezekiel's harp m^ant her, 
 Wliose strings resounding against pomp he smote. 
 
 Of course 'tis sad Lord Jesus was a carpenier, 
 And year by year wo?'e but one seamless coat. 
 
 Her sister sinned, alas, the cause ; true love was hers. 
 
 Who, loving so, refused a foolish top : 
 Her sister's banned, but she a l)ran new glove prefers 
 
 On which in church her praying head to prop. 
 
 The centre of God's house where peVr-^s are deai'est, 
 With millionaires for ushers, she requires : 
 
 A ororgeoup crimson loun^je to orace is nearest, . . 
 While purchased hallelujahs charm the spires. 
 
 Ha<l Adam fallen on such rich upholstering, 
 
 He might have saved two worlds of human pains, 
 
 And many a minister's laborious bolstering 
 Of souls in sin's hereditary sprains. 
 
 A salary of thirty thousand dollars 
 
 Her Parson gets to keep his calling gooil, 
 
 A sable robe, a saintly tie, white collars 
 And gloves to serve the sacramental blood. 
 
1 
 
 CONVKNTIONAIJTV IN rillKill. 
 
 •J(»| 
 
 A style of cljissic grace, with iiothinLi; tini^liiii; 
 
 The pulse polite ; of Death h(^ never s|)eak.s ; 
 No (iodliki' tears with Maii'lalen's ftoiiitninLjlini''. 
 
 For tears erase the rouf^e on beauty's cheeks. 
 
 He culls his. text to eointort lady Lilygootl, 
 As win*' narcotic soothes resplendent shann' ; 
 
 His love for sinners brooks ot no similitude? 
 
 To hell-stonned briiuston«' lak<'s of wrathftil Maine. 
 
 'Twould sap his salary sucii interruption 
 
 Of Wall street bears asleep, or 'wake to win 
 
 This level}' heir — she nuist not know corruption, 
 Except from Fiction's pure fi-ank incensed sin. 
 
 Ohl fashioned the forgiveness of a sinner, 
 Save by the humble One of ancient days ; 
 
 Perfect redemption's only for the winner 
 
 Of brown stone blocks, Hush bonds, two-forty bays- 
 
 You blundered, Moses, with Goal's Law, but Aaron 
 Your yellow calf of gold for us is l)est ; 
 
 We change coupons from Salem and from Sharon 
 For some rich fool's bedizened l)angs and breast : 
 
 But free redem])tion's not for impropriety ; < 
 And poverty, tho' pure, must keep its ]>la('<' ; 
 
 High culture's bettor for the best society, 
 Than is salvation of the human race. 
 
 '1, 
 
 I] 
 
 
 "^ 
 
 rr^* 
 
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 202 
 
 DON T DKSI'ISE. 
 
 Bout Bcepiec. 
 
 " There ia no liute timt in not liate worthy. 
 
 ^ON'T despise tlie pooi- man's pleasure, 
 hJ} Yc who feast on b\>ituno's spoil, 
 "(3^ For your nerve-relaxing leisure 
 Has been purchased by his toil. 
 
 Bought by years of labor painful, 
 Wanting, waiting, overworn, 
 
 Worthy .something less di.sdainful 
 Than a scant reward of .scorn. 
 
 There are these whose lives are sha<led 
 For some strange especial cause, 
 
 Lowly yet the least degraded, 
 Strict observers of life's laws. 
 
 We have seen the great in spirit, 
 Large of heart and grand in .soul, 
 
 Bound by duty to outwear it 
 In some wealthy fool's control. 
 
 Brows with unsung music beating. 
 
 Hearts that burn with more than hope 
 
 Oft are theirs who with unfleeting 
 Disappointments daily cope. 
 
?! 
 
 DON T DKHPISK. 
 
 Y«;t thoy sometimes rise u|> ;,'lorion«, 
 Poj)o.s and Miltons of tlie mind, 
 
 Who \>y toiling are victorious 
 O'er the monarchs of nijuikind. 
 
 Ci eert'ul son^s when wise men chant them, 
 Fire and forge the ndverst; hours, 
 
 House tile talliniT as an anthnn, 
 
 Or as hahn fro i t'oot-erushcd riv)\vers. 
 
 Deeds and v\ ids of faitl^ unshakinir, 
 Wrung and racked from copious minds. 
 
 Are as rocks in tempests making 
 Music of the Lvouhled winds. 
 
 Thus the gifts that most entraaco ns 
 Grew to fame from lov/lv jjfoals ; 
 
 For, tho' adverse circumstances 
 Curb, they crush not master souls. 
 
 Every useful innovation, 
 
 Every science ever taui^ht, 
 All the wealth of every nation 
 
 Hardy hands of laV)or N^youj-ht. 
 
 By the plow ouj- country's splendoi- 
 
 Blooms on independent soil. 
 And the foremost to defend hei- 
 
 Are the sturdy sons of toil. 
 
 When the trembling orphan plea<l('th 
 
 Go not sullenly away, 
 Give the hungry what he needeth, 
 
 It may be thy turn some day. 
 
 L'03 
 
 B 
 
 
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 Hi 
 
204 IIAMILTOX CKMKTKKY. 
 
 5 
 
 Ibamilton (Ecmetcr?. 
 
 HIS land where mortals part is the same goal 
 In which Spring loves to linger and illume 
 The quietude of such as shed the soul, 
 As failing blossoms shed unseen perfume. 
 Ye scarce could think that under all this bloom 
 The worm is busy with the beautiful 
 
 Untroubled tenants of so brioht a tomb, 
 Whose smiling silence lin^rers to annul 
 All beauty dreads to be in death's eternal lull. 
 
 Lo ! to the east outrolls a living sheen 
 
 Of liquid azure, tinted from on high, 
 Mottled with many sails, engirt with green : 
 
 And hills that love in the embrace to lie 
 
 Of beautiful Ontario, whose sky 
 A stranger seems to temi)ests : westward, lo 
 
 A very Paradise regales the eye ! 
 And yet more distant where the day beams glow 
 From Flambro's goodly hills two rivers hither flow. 
 
 How oft in youth I watched thy wandering waves, 
 Blue stream, and louged thine ending to explore ; 
 Lo, thou hast led me to this land of graves 1 
 Drifting forever to this dim "No More," 
 , Where myster}^ sleeps on death's horizon shore, 
 Unroused by time : here the gay crickets sing 
 In blooms that are more eloquent than lore ; 
 

 !h 
 
 HAMILTON CEMKTERY. 
 
 •JOo 
 
 i 
 
 By paths iiiiclst Howery graves, when Sabljath's riin^*, 
 Soft, rtoods of lustre round from light's snpenial spring. 
 
 Foi* now this oieen Cauadiau Ltruve is clad 
 
 In efflorescent leafy loveliness ; 
 And wild l»irds sing as if they never had 
 
 So many tuneful praises to express. 
 
 They seom to mean : O nature, no distress 
 Has scarified thy countenance, no pain 
 
 Obscures thy vital vigor ; born to IjIoss 
 The heart which is thy home, but thirsts in vain 
 Foj- any lovelier place, save the celestial plain. 
 
 These gi'ass}^ graves are like the waves of doom 
 
 Forever anchored on a twilight strand ; 
 Billows of lil3^-foam and rosy bloom ; 
 
 Where every ill by subtle sorrow jdaiined 
 
 Is sunken in a sea that has no land, 
 Save Faith and Hope whose sunny islands cheer 
 
 The garden of the spirit, lightly fanned 
 By breezes from some upper atmosphere, 
 Where flowers can never fade nor any blight appeal'. 
 
 To medicate on beauty, to admire 
 
 The wonderful, when heaven is written o'er 
 By angels with phylacteries of tive, 
 
 Has been a joy inviolate, a lore. 
 
 And if at times a form appeared who wore, 
 Or seemed to wear, an emblem of such love, 
 
 'Twas well to gaze on her, but evermore 
 Reality that eiTor did remove, 
 So fancy wings her way where reason would not rov«\ 
 
 "I 
 
 •*i 
 
206 DESTIVY — BLAME NOT. 
 
 DESTINY, turn thou the other side 
 
 OF thy blank shield an<l shew us what will be 
 Beyond the dim insatiable sea, 
 Forth into which we separately j(lide, 
 All silently upun a midnight tide 
 
 Of starless, moon-forsaken mystery : 
 
 Or art thou, Destiny, as dumb as we ? 
 And Destiny made answer : fool, divide 
 
 Thy soul from sense ; behold the Nazarine 
 
 Hath taught thee to, by abnegation meek ; 
 Thus thou slialt know more than by me is known. 
 
 I said to Death : obliterate thy screen. 
 And Death made answ^er: tliat which thou dost seek 
 With a pure heart is that which thou shalt own. 
 
 Blame mot 
 
 BLAME not, we all have our moments of blindness, 
 A thought that, ii acted, were darker than hers; 
 Her fault may be caused by a feeling of kindness, 
 A feeling the angel of mercy confers. 
 
 We ail liave been born in a world where the brightest 
 Of beings the darkest of destinies find — 
 
 The souls that are purest, the brows that are whitest, 
 Are clouded by those who should surely be kind. 
 
 Behold her alone, when misfortune's dejection 
 Has made it a dreadful endurance to live ; 
 
 She strives to be ga}', but there's giief \n ati'ection— 
 Once more to be pure, O, what would she not give :* 
 
TO A POET WHO lAUraiT RVIL. 
 
 Zo a poet wbo ^Tauobt Evil 
 
 J07 
 
 
 /^o WARM one soul with sacred flame, 
 -<j O bard, is worth a woi-ld of fame. 
 
 . Guilt never was sublime ! 
 A boundless l)Oon is thine and mine 
 Above thy opod's in power divine, 
 Above the tomb of time ; 
 
 And many a precious promise made, 
 If we do mercifully ai<l 
 
 Each other up to right ; 
 But not by standing neutral nigh 
 While woe discouraged welters by ' 
 
 Into destruction's night. 
 
 If any shipwrecked brother fails ' 
 
 Assist him with his mast or sails ; 
 
 Or unseaworthy bark. 
 His wreck, poor wretch, was not his choice; 
 Urge thro' the tempest flaws thy voice. 
 
 Or hale him from the dark. 
 
 More blest to be obscure as death 
 Than breathing ignominious breath 
 
 To fan some selfish fire ; 
 Let wisdom purge the dross away. 
 Or soon a coffin full of clay 
 
 And shame will end desire. 
 
 
 
 ml 
 
 
 m 
 
 u 
 
208 
 
 .JKFllTHA iS DAUGHTKH 
 
 3epbtba'9 Dauobter. 
 
 )m FTKR her bath yet early in the day, 
 j^^She donned a ketonet or tunica ; 
 ^^ With gems enclasped it, close as a caress, 
 And smoothed its folds out o'er her loveliness 
 In fondly fashioned outlines. It was made 
 Of Persian satin, opaline and white, 
 Like moving mists around the moot) arrayed, 
 Thro' which she shone, a lovelier light in light 
 Almost immortal : on a low divan 
 A Heecy texture tinted tyrian. 
 Alone reclining, on each pliant knee 
 Her white feet poised by turns to sandalled Ije. 
 The sandal buckles were with gems aflanje, 
 And those fine bands that bound each knee the same. 
 On restless anklets tinkled bells of gold, 
 A sytnbol which of princely lineage told. 
 Their music summonino- a tirino^ maid 
 Who all her glorious midnight hair arrayed ; 
 A pur[)le black it was, alive and long, 
 Aud seemed, if such could be, like a carved song, 
 Some Hebrew pjiean of triumphant power 
 Arrested, and remainino- her rare dower. 
 'Twas girt in frequent fillets of fine gold, 
 Bestarred with sardon flashing manifold. 
 And o'er her shoulders exquisitely graced, 
 A sedijin, encircled at the waist. 
 This sedijin was sleeveless, but both arms 
 H:id aspeii bands that blazed in jasper charni>. 
 
I'" 
 
 iil 
 
 NAPOLEON THIRD. 209 
 
 Her zone was also wonderful with these, 
 
 As round her neck a circlet, carved to please 
 
 In imitated foliage of lush hues 
 
 Such as Ezekiel sanctified for use. 
 
 And over these with garnet bangles hung 
 
 And opaline, a splendid shinila clung, . 
 
 Marvel of strangely interfusing sheen. 
 
 And beantiful as all that might have been. 
 
 A little serf of white and henna dyes 
 
 Crowned her dark head foi- dreadful sacrifice. 
 
 Pensive her oriental eyes, and large, 
 
 Lookino- their last on Judah's hills, the charoe 
 
 Of Israel's honor in them, and the praise 
 
 Of many a maid desponding since those days 
 
 When Jephtha's daughter wended forth to mourn 
 
 Her immature virginity forlorn. 
 
 ime. 
 
 IRapolcoit Sbir&. 
 
 ■:»i 
 
 i ( 
 
 ^f^-ow fails our faith in human good 
 Mi When gazing on the great ; 
 In ancient days their deeds were blood, 
 
 Their happiness, to hate : 
 We close each old histoi-ic page 
 With blessings on our advanced asfe. 
 
 See now ! what better can we show 
 
 With all our boasted lore ? 
 Our excellencies end in woe 
 
 Dark as in days of yore ; 
 And years of bloodshed failed to drain 
 From France this ignominious stain. 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
r 
 
 210 
 
 NAPOLKOX TJIIRD. 
 
 '^■1 
 
 ■I 
 
 I 5| 
 
 • '5 
 
 it 
 
 A Princess supplicated thee 
 Her shackled spouse to save — 
 
 Him thou didst send beyond the sea — 
 Thy promise proved liis grave ; 
 
 But of such deeds the world takes note, 
 
 Nor doth it on th' ungodly dote. 
 
 And thou didst spurn her plea, her fate 
 
 Whose creed was to be kind, 
 Her days are wholly desolate ; 
 
 And now her spirit's mind, 
 Deep in the caves of mad despair, 
 Must creak its unhinged . uins there. 
 
 Vain fool ! to shun the only chance 
 Of peace that earth can give ! 
 
 Hadst thou been just to truth and France, 
 Thy kingdom yet might live ; 
 
 But thou didst dash the cup away 
 
 That might have solaced thee to-day. 
 
 But 'tis in vain to taunt thee now 
 
 Witl] thy submissive state, 
 Except to warn Ambition's prow 
 
 From shuals wliich wi-eck the great ; 
 The world is tiied of warning's sti-ain, 
 Well sung by Byron, but in vain. 
 
 When kings descend from manly grace 
 To steal some transient power; 
 
 When emperors boundless boons debase 
 For that which lasts an hour, 
 
 We need not cite a foreign st'and, 
 
 The same corruptions are at hand. 
 
SHKLLRY. 
 
 211 
 
 Sbelle?. 
 
 WEET be thy slumber in tlie marble bier 
 01 Rome, the realm of sepulchres whose vine 
 
 c^''¥rus thy far grave of lame, reposing where 
 
 Thy genius loved in its first life to twine 
 Millennial schemes of progress for thy line 
 
 Who ruthlessly repulsed thee, and thy creed 
 Of earh' errors : thou wert not div'ne, 
 
 But what of those who spurned thine hour of need ? 
 
 Hounding thee fai from home, in alien lands to bleed. 
 
 There's a strange niystery with thee connected, 
 
 A most peculiar unearthliness, 
 And, though not blameless, thousands undetected 
 
 Act pure, nor feel the innate tenderness 
 
 Which tortured thee because of man's distress, 
 That for the guilty overwhelms the good — • 
 
 Thy goodness was divine, divine no less 
 Should be the judge of genius ; the dark mood 
 Is to itself unknown, ])eopliiig life's solitude. 
 
 The purple silver of the pearly dews 
 
 Appear as they were strewn on Eden's shore. 
 
 Eve's path illuming : silent yet diifuse, 
 Majestic cloudrifts let the moonlight pour 
 On classic fane and fountain ; as of yore 
 
 The Coliseum seems an urn whose rim 
 
 Runs o'er with Ruin's ashes ; once its gore 
 
 Gladdened a hundred thousand souls ; how dim 
 
 Ambition, that then burned like flaming cherubim. 
 
 
 h , 
 
r- 
 
 liiii 
 
 SMELLKY, 
 
 His lieart was full of gifts whicli mon i-L't'iised 
 
 Because his bark of life hud a strange keel : 
 His oreat thought- freighted gentleness abused 
 
 By fools who could not fathom it, oi' feel. 
 
 At Pity's shrine he bowed, but did not kneel 
 In outward sham conventional — O, brain, 
 
 Wi-yed by man's ignorant faith whose cruel zeal 
 Did mock divinity and make it vain! 
 Foiled by the envious fools to whomhe gave his strain. 
 
 Another wreck ariives ashore, 
 
 Dim-piloted by death; 
 Its port of reefs is called No More ; 
 
 Its people have no breath. 
 
 Scuttled ? aye — by the self-sauie hand 
 That built the bounding bai'k; 
 
 A dreadful end by madness planned 
 For Ruin, in the dark. 
 
UL'HNS. 
 
 •2i:\ 
 
 ffiurne. 
 
 No L'oiiimon gifts could no tleliglit. 
 
 E. 11. JJumrt, D.I). 
 
 aLL liail to the biitliday that (iawiicd on thy heing 
 A nation's best gift blest iier bosom that morn 
 The oenerous <;lo\v of thv jjenius far-seeinj'", 
 Of nobleness, bolihiess and niaiihness born. 
 
 /Tho' clouds of obscurity gathered around thee, 
 
 And. fortune seemed pinioned by poverty's cliain, 
 Their hinnoni-like hopelessness failed to confound thee, 
 \ All chains for thy s])irit were welded in vain. 
 
 Tlio' cramped b}' adveijsity's low isolation, 
 
 It helped l)ut to brighten thy intellect strong; 
 
 It served but to make thee tho earth's admiration, 
 The glory and boast of a nation of song. 
 
 Bequeathing mankind what no time or detraction, 
 Or truth-testing changes can ever destroy, 
 
 A soul-soothing essence, a balm for dejection, 
 A tendei' assurance of innocent joy. 
 
 But often those dreams that delight from a distance 
 Are wofully marred when adversity's force 
 
 Stops feeling's fond flow with a sidlen resistance, 
 A stream- wave rolled back by the tide irom its course. 
 
 Yet was it thy nature to gild life with glory, 
 i With fancy to fashion what was not to be ; 
 Uphoarding each hope and encouraging story 
 That painted a future from misery free. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
214 
 
 HURN8. 
 
 The strength of tliy soul seized the objects around tliee, 
 And made thy creations posterity praise 
 
 Till nations who gaze would rejoice to have crown'd thee 
 With palm boughsof peace and the laurel's green bays. 
 
 The passionate force of thy soul did not slumber, 
 It soared in delight or sunk low in despair ; 
 
 All rapt in the region of h()|)e's happy number, 
 Or wandered oppressed on the banks of the Ayr. 
 
 By lofty BenLomond in ether projecting ,, 
 
 His cavernous crags where the cold breezes moan, 
 
 By heathery Ayr in its bosom reflecting 
 The image of Mary who met thee alone. 
 
 That love was not love but a glance into glory 
 Which lifted thee up, as the Prophet of old 
 
 Was lured out of Patmos to Heaven, a story 
 Of holiness, never on earth to be told. 
 
 By these inspiration her mantle threw o'er thee 
 Upwafting thy spirit immortal with song ; 
 
 A pillar of fiery darkness l)efore thee, 
 Thro' deserts distressful allurino- alono*. 
 
 / Light of the days that are Albyn's no longer, 
 Spirit of Scotland, departed for aye ! 
 Still grows the strength of thy minstrels}" stronger, 
 And purer, like wine when the years pass away. 
 
 In the temple of Fame the great Fergussou slumbers 
 Where Campbell recorded a praiseworthy name ; 
 
 Tho' Ossiau is master of mystical numbers, 
 Few famous can equal the light of thy fame. 
 
TIIK tUIDOK. 
 
 2\h 
 
 Z\K Brooh. 
 
 /Clf f'ot-^i in an uuUnown book 
 
 l ^ |yAs sate from blame as some tar brook; 
 
 "^^ For there lU) iiw^liug trami> disturbs 
 
 ^ The freckled tribes or flowery herbs, 
 The' tinged with many a tender dye 
 From Ijafy fall or starry sky, 
 Ov all the quaint syuibolic brood 
 Of unobtrusive solitude. 
 
 Where such a runnel in the reeds 
 
 A life of wild seclusion leads, 
 
 Low in a twilight woi-ld of ferns 
 
 Half hid by undulating turns, 
 
 Its tresses wavinjj, ^reen atid lonu", 
 
 In time to an seolian song, 
 
 Too fairy pui'e to feel forlorn, 
 
 Is where one sylvan muse was born. 
 
 Her vesture every poet knows, 
 Her early lover was a rose, 
 Her bridesmaids blushinor cardinals, 
 While eglantines with vermil bells 
 Sent fragrant gifts to giace the feast. 
 Too innocent to need a priest ; 
 The morning was her bridal hour, 
 With all Jehovah ojave for dower. 
 
 1 
 
 ..:U 
 
 ., 'J 
 
216 TilK KUOOK. 
 
 Tliose came tlie forest lilooin to bie.ss, 
 Like water in a wildernes ; 
 Proclaiinint^, tho' the^ lowly live, 
 That life's best pleasure is to {?ive. 
 While Nature, on the other hand, 
 By mafijic few may understand, 
 Can wreck the peace of poets wlio 
 Detiy her a«lulation due. 
 
 But if the muse has lauded wrong, > 
 Or woven folly into song; 
 Or huit the eontidenee of hope 
 With scepticisui's horoscope. 
 More than may come of igjiorance — 
 Which also should be called oti'ence — 
 Then shake from out thine urn, O Time, 
 Oblivion's ashes on this rhyme. 
 
 
 Perchance Oblivicm may not bide 
 By the conditions here implied; 
 But let his gardener Time, entwine 
 Some poppy leaves for every line : 
 Well let him — did I wish to wear 
 A poet's crown of pain and care i 
 I loved the Muses and they came 
 Of failure careless and of fame. 
 
 First Art, divorced b}' W^ant, was choice, 
 Then music soft of measured voice, 
 And History I did exchange 
 For Fiction, true ; and Science strange : 
 
' 
 
 <V U I 
 
 THK liKOOK. 
 
 But Lovoliiu'ss liath over been 
 My adoration fanu and (lucon, 
 No time sliall change or sea divide 
 iVly spirit tVom its rainbow l^ride. 
 
 lii: 
 
 A band more Ijeaiitit'ul than tlu'so 
 
 Ne'er left youth's port for unknown sefi*;, 
 
 By salutary breezes fanned 
 
 To rosy Eldorado land. 
 
 But me they left U> build a lij^ht, 
 
 Lest hope should be delayed till ninht. 
 
 For on that bark, that so went forth 
 
 Was all most cherished upon earth. 
 
 And as a tire on some far height 
 Allures an eagle in the night, 
 So fancy clove the cloudy throng, 
 In love with nature, lore and sonj-. 
 In search of light, if but one glow, 
 To cheer the crew in toil below ; 
 That they might see and feel the tlame, 
 And honor that from whence it came. 
 
 Fate kindly lent some Hame — behold, 
 It was for good, and not for gold ! 
 Precipitate I brought the spoil. 
 To those in isolated toil ; 
 But ere I reached the foaming coast. 
 That ship with all its crew was lost 
 I held the feeble tiame near shore, 
 I called, but they return n(j more. 
 
 in 
 
218 THE BROOK. 
 
 (Joiiiu back with gontaloris unfurled, 
 leave thy beauty in this world ! 
 ^lorn came : was ever light so >^iiy 
 Let out of heaven ? triumphantly, 
 Smiling alike on land or sea. 
 On all things but to mine and me ; 
 For nothing there on sea or sliore 
 Was ever as it was of yore. 
 
 M H 
 
 As some fond parting tones, tho' deai-. 
 Depress the heart they meant to cheei", 
 Thus theii' last songs who sailed away, 
 Make sad this book of memory ; 
 As faded leaves of flowers and fern. 
 From one who may no more return. 
 How strange, that out of all on l)oard, 
 That storm these strains alone restoied. 
 
 Ah, what a storm, what blasts of black 
 My inefficient flame kept back ; 
 What spectres rioting elate, 
 ^[ade nature pale when gloomy fate 
 Anchored his cloudy throne in heaven, 
 And had the earth (as Job was) given 
 To the masked demons of the air, 
 The convocations of despair ! 
 
 Yet some who tenderly retain 
 The fading glory of the fane, 
 Kindle with hope's expiring ray, "* 
 
 The vestal fires of memory ; 
 
 I 
 
■ 
 
 THE BROOK. 
 
 As artists of their loves retrace 
 What fate forbade them to embrace ; 
 So may a song, a glance, a tone, 
 Restore the vanished one by one. 
 
 219 
 
 To those who never had their way, 
 To those who failed and "et are gay, 
 Who still love innocence and truth, 
 Whose ship comes back no more from youth. 
 Whose anchors dras when rocks loom nigli. 
 Who sinji at times to drown a sigh, 
 To such, iho' void c*' lore and cheer, 
 I dedicate the ditties here. 
 
 The shark ot wrecks, ii he should care 
 To flounder thro' such flotsam fare. 
 May find less fault than 1 with these 
 Adieux and dirges sung to peace. 
 Why sing then ? Sir, tho' not sublime, 
 Those subjects turned them.selves to rhyme, 
 As Neptune, when the storm is by 
 Makes rhythm of monotony. 
 
 Some think, let none the thought condenni. 
 That all things had gone well with them. 
 If, 'stead of hope unsanctified, 
 Grace had been chosen for their gui<le : 
 Who knows ? for both are often <lark 
 To all who on their seas embark, 
 And for some reason hide the sun 
 Until the final haven's won. 
 
 h'l 
 
 \\± 
 
j!i 
 
 220 
 
 YEOANNA. 
 
 l^coanna. 
 
 /^^ LL in a (hoam too 
 Ic^The spirit of Peife( 
 
 pure to last 
 'ction passed, 
 0^, Such as imagination sees, 
 In grand ideal destinies; 
 With angel hosts, a burning zone, 
 Harping on harps to man unknown, 
 Hosamia to Yeoanna. 
 
 They gave a poet's hope that name, 
 Since from ethereal scenes she came 
 And as the vast clioir surged along 
 He knew the reason of their soi'g, 
 The strange transfigurating strain 
 Immortal, but his ov^ni in vain 
 In worship of Yeoanjia. 
 
 As for this bard, his restless mind 
 Made him an alien to mankind ; 
 His s])irit being lax of earth 
 Heard songs before its human birth. 
 He lived two lives, one like a star 
 Which sees both morn and night afar, 
 The morn tiiat was Yeoanna. 
 
YEOANNA. 
 
 Oft had he read in lyric lore 
 The grace of those wliorn bards ndcre 
 Tlie deathless love that deifies, 
 Like Beatrice in Paradise, 
 Of pearly arms and li[)s tliat lure — 
 O faint forbodiiio-s of the pure, 
 The innocent Yeoanna ! 
 
 O.) 
 
 Her lips are like a sacrament, 
 Her smile a benison that blent 
 Its sacred lustre unto eyes, 
 Filled with supei'iial sympathies ; 
 Yea, and her voice itself could win 
 The ruined seraphim from sin, 
 
 Could they have seen Yeoanna. 
 
 And when this vivid dream came true 
 A second dawn flashed up the blue, 
 So vast time seemed to start and spread 
 His wings as one in sudden dread 
 To lose his throne, for a new earth 
 Was raptured into radiant birth 
 Because of this Yeoanna. 
 
 Apart the cloud of incense rolls : 
 Behold a shrine I the buinini:" coals 
 Aie vivid still ; ah, veiy dear 
 Frankincense fills the atmosphere 
 From this one shiine that is not cluv, 
 The melody of memory, 
 Immortal, of Yeoanna. 
 
 
 I if 
 
 .itttt' 
 
•)•■)•> 
 
 TEOANNA. r 
 
 Then in this vision of iiiy fate, 
 Far from that fane's celestial gate, 
 One sternly waved my steps away : 
 But where, O whitherward to stray 
 From the alluring life of light, 
 Wherein is vanishing!: from sio-ht. 
 The beautiful Yeoanna ? 
 
 So back to heaven Hope fled and drew 
 Devotion death can not undo ; 
 She raised the idol and destroyed 
 And left an ever-aching void ; 
 She broke the harpstring and the strain 
 Can never sing of peace again. 
 Nor feel thy hands, Yeoanna. 
 
 Ah, dreamer, well thou should'st Iiave known; 
 
 \Vhat would be by the broken stone 
 
 That strewed the jjathway whence ye came 
 
 Thro' burning gulfs of whii ling flame. 
 
 Thy soul, untuned bv discord, is 
 
 All uncongenial to the bliss, 
 
 Which shines about Yeoanna. 
 
 Yet even havinj; cjazed on her 
 Has left misfortune lovelier. 
 As roses, wooed to life by light. 
 Bloom on in fragrance in the night. 
 Unseen of stars whose spheial strain 
 Earth hears no more because of pain 
 For havino- lost Yeoanna. 
 
SIR WALTER KALKIGH. 
 
 .').)• 
 
 ^mh 
 .^^ 
 
 )wn, 
 
 le 
 
 Sir raaltcr IRaleiob, 
 
 (ADDRKSb TO HIS SOIM,). 
 
 P HERE engirt by four strong walls, 
 
 And guarded by the state, 
 We are not liere by our own acts, 
 
 My soul, nor is it fate. 
 I have been oft to blame, but not 
 
 For that which hales us here ; ■ 
 Earth hungers for the lamps of heaven, 
 
 And thine, my soul, is clear. 
 
 Now ere we sever, Psyche, plume 
 
 Thy pinions for the skies : 
 See, on thy wings the smile of stars 
 
 Predating Paradise ; 
 We V(tyaged gorgeous dreams, but now 
 
 Our journey must divide; 
 Angels may date my death not thine, 
 
 My soul, nor will they chide. 
 
 They will not chide thee when thej- see 
 
 Thy wings for others worn — 
 The eyes within thy wings have tears 
 
 For pain of mortals borne — 
 Not one of all who knew thee well 
 
 Will close the sacred gate ; 
 They felt thy patience here, and there 
 
 Th}^ worth will estimate. 
 
2*2 < SIR WALTKH KALEIMl. 
 
 We have gi-eat faith in England's cause, 
 
 Tho' fools have filled her throne, 
 Yet time's advance shall vindicate 
 
 That which is now unknown. 
 And tho' her recreants fail in death, 
 
 Her destinv's not dead ; 
 Her monuments of mighty deeds 
 
 Shall be by millions read. 
 
 Her forces are on many a wave, 
 
 Her flag on niany a sea ; 
 Because she holds in her strono- hand 
 
 The sceptre (»f the free : 
 The heathen like a piiat ' s bark 
 
 That knows no port or calm, 
 Until the dove from England's ark 
 
 Lights <m their isles with palm. 
 
 Lord of the heathen whom we saw 
 
 On ji'reen Viroinia's coast, 
 If, by pure grace those sable triljes, 
 
 Tho'i creedless, are not lost, 
 Take thou my sister soul who soon 
 
 Must part to thee from me : 
 O sacred lamp of nature's woild 
 
 Farewell to life and thee ! 
 
 If crowns in furnaces are forge<l, 
 Then is thy crown secure ; 
 
 Since all for which a soul is V)orn 
 On earth we did endure : 
 
 1% 
 
use, 
 
 SIK WALTElt UALKIi;H. 
 
 
 Thou who didst i^iandly share thy stori> 
 E'en with suspected wortli ; 
 
 But every tie is severing now 
 For which we came on earth. 
 
 Then gaze abroad and bid adieu — 
 
 It will not keep iis long — 
 Few are the hands remaining wann 
 
 Of all our fiatterinix thionu-. 
 There are no flowers in wintrv fields, 
 
 No friends to cheer elpfeat ; 
 Look not for love in human eyes 
 
 When fortune's in retieat. 
 
 Come hither sereman with thy sere, 
 
 Come bellman with thy bell, 
 Sound out our last adieu, a dirofe, 
 
 Thy anthem a farewell. 
 Angels have taken us in hand — 
 
 The glorified all |)ure 
 Have sympatliy foi- that which is 
 
 Beyond us to endure. 
 
 ii 
 
 Be not exacting with thy scales, 
 
 O justice born of heaven ! 
 Thou knowest well that millions fail 
 
 And millions 'aiu forgiven ! 
 Transfer to death thy sacerdotal 
 
 (denser infinite ; 
 Lajjahas me, lavabu.a me ! 
 
 In streams of livino- lio-Jit. 
 
 at t\ 
 
 
 m 
 
220 
 
 A FKA(;.MK\r, 
 
 I' f 
 
 H ifraomcnt 
 
 ; 
 
 HAT pliaritoms rise and flit along 
 The silent stream of vanished tinu' ; 
 •^-^Fonns, grit't'-subdued, and still, and j-ale, 
 As hope transfixed with untold crime ! 
 Kven now, uponniy longing sight 
 
 A well remembered scene appears 
 Where parted clouds let down the light, 
 Then closed on all the coming years. 
 
 Among the sunfields of tiie west 
 
 Where roll our country's grandest sti'eams 
 There lived a maiden lovelier 
 
 Than fancv's fairest, fondest dreams. 
 Oft, when the sun's descending beams 
 
 Spread splendors o'er the western sky, 
 We met beneath the blooming thorn 
 
 To watch the wondrous o-loiv die. 
 
 There, in the golden eventide. 
 
 Beneath a fragrant hawthorn tiee, 
 She, whom my spirit deified. 
 
 Gave all her promi-sed* years to me. 
 That sun has set — an unknown orave 
 
 Js there alone upon the hill, - 
 
 And all the scene is silent, save 
 
 The vesper of a whip-poor-will. 
 
 i 
 
WHAT VOU. 
 
 Bt'liold the very hillside tree 
 
 Is monrniiii'" o'er that lost suii-ulow, 
 And u]) towards the west its arms 
 
 Wave ill the twilight to and fro. 
 Ano'els of lio-lit who thronrj the road 
 
 Through Hinnoni's dim, lone solitudes, 
 My spirit longs fov that abode 
 
 Whei'e evei'lasting stillness broods. 
 
 2-27 
 
 Mbat for. 
 
 IS, 
 
 „^'HE question often conies too late, 
 -cJ If all mankind are doing 
 For thirst of things which satiate 
 
 Are truly worth the wooing. 
 We pray for vvjiat unblest has been 
 
 Since earth was sin-disordered ; 
 And pleasure is by care closed in 
 
 Like gardens thorny l)ordered. 
 
 But on we toil in pathways worn 
 
 Where every turn discloses 
 How man}' hearts and hands are torn 
 
 While seai'ching for the roses 
 That grow so gay at early inorn, 
 
 Wlien dewy <la^dight glitters ; 
 But many a bosom-piei'cing thorn 
 
 The weary search embitters. 
 
 ( +i 
 
•)•» 
 
 L'« 
 
 TO Tin ril(»TO(iHAPII. 
 
 i 
 
 The |)(>litic'ian imist invent 
 
 Some post, to save his nation : 
 The merchant worships cent per cent, 
 
 His spouse some loftier station ; 
 And, woise, the good are often made 
 
 To l)OW to oohl <)!• paper : 
 The farce is finished vvlien the Shade 
 
 Snuff's out tiieir transient taper. 
 
 Well let thenj toil so, it ma}' be 
 
 That even doubtful labor 
 Will help to keep the spirit free 
 
 From sin's self-gashing salne, 
 J^'or nothing underneath the sun, 
 
 In frioid zone or hroilini''. 
 Was ever e'en by genius done 
 
 Without continual toiling. 
 
 But better not to cramp the range 
 
 Of honor's lofty natui'e, 
 For all wealth offers in exchange 
 
 To tempt a needy creature ; 
 For, tho' rich rogues with weighty goM 
 
 May purchase earthly (piiet, 
 They're ot't but fools in Satan's fold 
 
 For poorer fools to sigh at. 
 
 Long ere we met I looked on thi;e 
 In a pure vision, a sweet dream ; 
 
 But now this loveliness to see, 
 How dim imaginations seem. 
 
S PI KIT OF WIN'K 
 
 O.Hi 
 
 Spirit of Mine. 
 
 OME, see the renewal 
 
 Of old — but more cruel ! — 
 Laocoon's duel 
 
 With serpents that twine : 
 He strujTorled to strangle 
 The monsters that mangk- ; 
 But who may untano^le 
 
 The demon of wine :* 
 
 Thy legions have shattered the nations, and scattered 
 Their garners, and battered God's image divine ; 
 
 Thy kingdom of babel, attush at their table, » 
 Wear sackcloth of sable, O spirit of wine ! 
 
 'Tis weakness to woo tliee, for all whoe'er knew thee 
 Are destined to rue thee, however benign ; 
 
 In hovel or palace the charms of thy clialice 
 Hide vipers of malice, demon of wine. 
 
 Thy cup is the kernel of forces infernal 
 
 Who blast the supernal with passions malign, 
 
 Till over the river thy demons deliver 
 The wretched forever, O spirit of wine. 
 
 With trouble for brother, the bride and the mother 
 Tell not to each other the hopes they resign : 
 
 So millions, disowning thy holocausts, groaning 
 Go downward, bemoaning the demons of wine. 
 8 • 
 
 ill 
 
 . ^M 
 
 !'Wl 
 
 ,^ 
 
•j;iO 
 
 CHATTF.RTON. 
 
 TliL'ii- pain is tliy pleasure, tlieir ruin tliy tieasuro, 
 
 Their loss — who may measure their loss ? or deline 
 A soul below level of madness in evil ? 
 *» One called thee a devil, O spirit of wine. 
 
 O leave us, dark shadow I as storms leave a meadow 
 Let orphan and widow no longer repine — 
 
 Thy widows, still manied to corpses unburied, 
 By agony harried, «lemon of wine. 
 
 Bards in thy laudation ))y false adulation, 
 Do un;:o damnation thy victims consign, 
 
 Yet no one has spoken, by symbol or token, 
 Of all the heartbroken, O spirit of wine ; 
 
 Nor of thy defiling of beauty ; beguiling 
 
 Thy dupes with the smiling, vile juice of the vine ; 
 
 Their laughter sounds poorly whom slowly but surely 
 Thou cl inchest securely, demon of wine ! 
 
 No maiden deploring her ruined adoring, 
 
 E'er found thee restoring her love, who is thine ! 
 
 For what has thou, hearing of ties so endearing ? 
 Rude laug iter and leering, O spirit of wine ! 
 
 :; 
 
 Cbatterton. 
 
 <^:s^ 
 
 I 
 
 ,i.j. 
 
 :!**) 
 
 ►EYOND the green fields on the bank of a river, 
 C^ The home of my childhood forsaken is there, 
 Remembrance returns, but alas I can never 
 Revisit that home or its happiness share. 
 
ill 
 
 CHATTKftTON'. 
 
 L':;i 
 
 [■V, 
 
 «'tinu 
 
 idow 
 
 urely 
 
 c i 
 
 AloMo 1 must cntor the laml of tlie Mtraiiy^cr, 
 Alone I am j)aHsin<jf the portal of jiaiii. , 
 
 Von sun that awoke nic to hun<;er antl clangor 
 Shall never arouse mo to surtitr atrain. 
 
 My mother, tiie tears of thy kindness no longer 
 Shall trouble the e'ay that can make no returi> ; 
 
 I yield to oblivious Death who is stronj^'er 
 Than any tbnd tie that the living may learn. 
 
 For this have I drudged thro' adversity vainly 
 Abandoned by truth, which a poet's soul craves 
 
 Forced down my sad heart from its worship insanely, 
 And waken to find all forever the grave's. 
 
 Unroll your grand anthems, ye angels of heaven, 
 starve not my soul in its struonrje with death ! 
 
 Be parted, ye shadows that veil the forgiven. 
 And brighten this terrible blackness beneath. 
 
 Life fades ! O life fades like a wind wafted tiiither, 
 A blast o'er the bloom of a desolate lake — 
 
 Farewell fond delusion of hopes that would wither, 
 The fame I am forced by dumb death to forsake. 
 
 Farewell to thee Fame, for thy mirage supeiiuil 
 Deluded Hojie's feet o'er the desert despair 
 
 To cisterns of Mara — has the Eternal 
 For ruin no recum])enso hither or there { 
 
 \l\ 
 
m 
 
 '.I 
 
 '2S'2 LINEH. 
 
 ♦ ■ 
 
 ■ ^ ON BKINti RKgL'ESTKD TO RRVIEW A RK\ IKWKR. 
 
 .n^EAR Sill : as would an eagle lightly brush 
 
 •^ '«^From his high home whei'e shadow brooding hush, 
 
 Some pests that stole their journey to the skies 
 
 On the same pinions envy would despise. 
 
 So gfeiiius with majestic wings aglow 
 
 Can sweep its critics to their vats below : 
 
 Sheer trom the Paradise of music sweet, 
 
 To the perdition of their own conceit ; 
 
 But, though their slime may desecration be, 
 
 By such presumptuous ignorance w^e see 
 
 Perfection yet uiore perfectly arrayed, 
 
 As Artists lights eliminate by shade. 
 
 So all things have their uses ; and so this 
 
 Poor envious echo of an idiot's hiss. 
 
 This spawn, by spleen engendered, and green biU- 
 
 By envy nurtured solely to beguile, 
 
 E'en him we pity, not condemn, for lo ! 
 
 How much must such a miscreant forego I 
 
 Because his only comfort is to sting, 
 
 Or steal the glory from some angel's wing; 
 
 Having not any other excellence 
 
 More than damned Judas who sold Chiist for pence. 
 
 Such surely should be pitied moie than all ' 
 
 The slimy brood created but to crawl 
 
 Into detraction's sickly solitude, 
 
 Self-exiled from the heaven of doing good ; • 
 
 Therefore, dear friend, expect not a reply, 
 
 Life is too brief to nurture enmitv. 
 
 
HFiUTALITY TRIUMPHANT. 
 
 233 
 
 Brutaliti? ttriumpbant. 
 
 luisli, 
 
 CO.NCRRX I Sa A PRIZK-KIOIIT 
 
 \. 
 
 ^here's not a more repulsive truth, 
 
 To those wlio love their race, 
 Than to review the rearward years 
 
 Of glory in disgrace ; 
 And find hov oft mere brutal force 
 
 All goodly gifts defile, 
 To some unclean, uncertain fane 
 
 That triumphs to beguile. 
 
 How oft this world has been laid wast-- 
 
 By demons bad and brave ; 
 Thrones, vineyards, genius, learning's hall^ 
 
 Glut the oblivious fjrave. 
 What hydra-shaped contagious crime 
 
 Red history's pages smear, 
 From records most remote of days 
 
 Unto the davs niost near ! 
 
 ence. 
 
 See Daniel in a lion's den, 
 
 Golgotha's cross and pains, 
 The persecuted Christian hosts, 
 
 Columbus in his chains, 
 <^''alileo ^"ciced to veil the light 
 
 Cl Truth's celestial beam, 
 AiJ i million^, have neglected gone 
 
 Lown Time's insatiate stream. 
 
 m 
 m 
 
234 BRUTALITY TRIUMPHANT. ' 
 
 'Twas ever so ; but those grand souls 
 
 Who strove to lift the load 
 Of ignorant oppression's bonds 
 
 From off the hosts they goad, 
 Who strove to rear among mankind 
 
 Faith's temples pure and high, 
 Are martyrs to their godliness 
 
 And desolately die. 
 
 Too late, too late — the laurel leaves 
 
 For Tasso's brows were twined ; 
 Lisboa's bard and Allyn's Burns 
 
 Were to neglect consigned. 
 What kings enthroned exalt their kind ■ 
 
 Like to the sons of song ? 
 Yet, who in ruins' arid realm 
 
 Receive from men more wrong ? 
 
 But Christian nations, even yet, 
 
 Receive with golden fame. 
 Yea, purchase splendid human shapes 
 
 For deeds surpassing shame. 
 God's servants too, and statesmen learned, 
 
 All eagerly stood by — 
 They left their posts while brutal force 
 
 Was hailed triumphantly. 
 
FROM CARLYLE AND EMERSON. 
 
 235 
 
 Ifrotn (tannic an& Emcreon. 
 
 AST good the\^ yield the world who wield 
 
 Their weapons ever true ; 
 For strength and life are in the strife, 
 
 The' dreadful storms ensue. 
 
 Improve thy mind and be resigned 
 To what thou canst not mend, 
 
 For time misspent brings discontent 
 And shapes a dreadful end. 
 
 The insects sing upon the wing 
 
 An hour, then disappear ; 
 They do a share, nor ever are 
 
 In vain by God sent here. 
 
 The little flower, the sunny houi-, 
 
 The storms that blacken heaven, 
 The hopes that bless or bring distress 
 
 Are all in kindne.ss given. 
 
 Yet, tho' no scene, however mean, 
 
 Can bind us to its state, 
 Do v^hat we will to bafHe ill, 
 
 No mortal's truly 
 
 great. 
 
 The strongest mind that moves mankind 
 
 Might some weak idiot be, 
 But for the power the present hour 
 
 Confers on you and me. 
 
 I;! . 
 
236 
 
 FOREWARNINfi. 
 
 How many a year this mundane sphere 
 
 Has waited for thy lot : 
 One life on earth will stamp its worth, 
 
 So disappoint them not. 
 
 Be great if thou wouldst preach or plow, 
 
 A day's work is a ])rayer ; 
 Receive to give, and thou'lt receive 
 
 A more abundant share. 
 
 Then guide, altho' fate's sullen floe 
 Drives fierce against hope's prow, 
 
 A time of bloom will surely come 
 If we but labor now. 
 
 Paul says there's more, when life is o'er, 
 
 Of wages coming due, 
 If we will brave temptation's wave 
 
 To win the good and true. 
 
 Iforcwarnina. 
 
 tAY, is it superstitious fear 
 c— If we believe from Hades drear 
 Some evil influence night and day 
 Disturbs our better destiny ? 
 For who with finite mind can seize 
 The soul's intangibilities ? 
 There often moves across our path 
 The misty blasts of coming scath. 
 
CULTURE. 
 
 Whose drear forewarnings do diffuse 
 A shade o'er ail we loathe to lose, 
 And we are troubled long bet'ore 
 Misfortune enters at the door. 
 Even to innocence they come, 
 Those whisperings of the spirit's doom 
 J)im phantoms, bearing pleasure's pall 
 Most terribly distinct withal. 
 As moving mists above a stream 
 
 Along a forest vista roll, 
 Defying Reason's piercing beam 
 
 Such omens settle on the soul, 
 To warn us as wo move away 
 Among the things of yesterday. 
 
 237 
 
 I 15 
 
 Culture. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 TAPELINE gaugei" of God's sliade, the sun, 
 A man of culture who had taken care 
 To analyze convulsions of despair, 
 
 And weigh heaven's hopes with steelyards, one by one: 
 
 What dost thou make of Death ? is life then done ? 
 Will science ever take the place of prayer ? 
 Or has it ought to mitigate despair, 
 
 Like piety, when great misfortunes shun ? 
 
 For all men are atHicted more or less ; 
 
 According to their talents are they tried : 
 I asked him these ; and also longed to learn 
 
 How science soothes a parent's prone distress 
 
 For a child murdered, or a drunkard's bride. 
 
 He answered with a smile of quiet scorn. 
 
 i 
 
 ] w. 
 
 
 m 
 
■mum 111 
 
 238 
 
 HABAKKUK. 
 
 Ibabafthuft. 
 
 J^ROM Teman caine the holy One, 
 ^ From Paran's lofty land ; 
 His presence glorifies the earth, ' 
 His holy words command. 
 
 Fierce pestilence and burning coals, 
 Before His feet He hurled ; 
 
 He drives the sinful nations out, 
 To save his Father's v^^orld ; 
 
 And solitary mountains bow — 
 Tlie strong perpetual hills 
 
 Are strewn like verv little clouds 
 Of rain among the rills. ^ 
 
 Afflicted Cushan's tents I saw, 
 And Midian's curtained meads, 
 
 All trembling at the wonder of 
 His everlasting deeds. 
 
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 Cbaos. 
 
 ^icings ^Jc^Ji-cscntcti. 
 
 ^^ 
 Celeno, often in shape of a comely woman. 
 Alecto, another beautiful minister of pangs. 
 Lucifer, onee the morning star. 
 Napoleon IV. 
 A Bard. 
 
 Terminus, a lawyei*. and civil engineer for Tophet. 
 iEACUS, judge of Europeans in Tophet. 
 Familiar Demon, of the Bard. 
 Juno, Hebe, Iris, etc. 
 
 a green isle in a sea, love, 
 A fountain and a shrine. 
 
 -Poe. 
 
 Farewell ! a sad word easy said, 
 
 And easy sung, I think, by some. 
 
 I clutched my hands and turned my head 
 
 In my endeavor, and was dumb ; 
 
 And when I should liave said. Farewell, 
 
 I only murmured, ' This is hell. ' 
 
 — Joaquin MUkr. 
 
 A hideous throng rush out forever, 
 
 They laugh — but smile no more. 
 
 —Pot. 
 
 i 
 
240' 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A pale red lawn in the land of Bale. Celeno and 
 Alecto greeting ; 
 
 Celeno. Heard you the world 's to liave anotlier war '( 
 Foredoomed by France, the nearest port Bale lias. 
 
 Alecto. The moon grows gibbous on odd dates in Gaul, 
 Gendering European euroclydons, 
 And most unseemly evolutions there. 
 
 Celeno. Their creed is dubious, want of faith in kings. 
 Begets a want of it in loftier things. 
 But a Niao^ara of blood-drained souls 
 Will shortly burst upon us unredeemed. 
 What news from Venus ? 
 
 Alecto — Nothing out of tune ; 
 
 Also, by last advice, was Mercury. 
 
 Celeno. Alecto, I do think it may be said 
 
 Earth is nigh on the eve of some huge chanire. 
 
 There seems to be a culmination there 
 
 That puts m}'- thought in recollection of 
 
 A dropsied cloud ere by its lightning cupped. 
 
 We may get respite then a thousand years, 
 
 A thousand years, Alecto, think of it ! 
 
 'Tis an idea worth being amplified. 
 
 After bad Armageddon's war with good, 
 
 Or previously, I have forgotten which, 
 
 And there's no Bible here for reference : 
 
 I would ask Paine, but he's not accurate. 
 
 It may transpire ; the promise is for sure, 
 
 Fore-spoken by Jehovah ; Lucifer * 
 
 Seems lenient even ; see him pensive there ; 
 
 Prone bx" the hydra-guarded tribute porch, 
 
n<f 
 
 a-< 
 
 raul, 
 
 igs. 
 
 « 
 
 riTAOS. 
 
 241 
 
 Lone.soine from unrestricted majesty. 
 
 A dreadful demon, he, the very shade 
 
 That half reveals his presence quakes with dread. 
 
 There's not, in all the worlds, one capable 
 
 To cope with him, save One ; and they will meet 
 
 When earth is ripe in evil ; until then, 
 
 Where is the angel who would dare explore 
 
 The awful secrets of his soul of yore. 
 
 Yet his malevolence and cruel power 
 
 Shall crumble in the fulness of those times. 
 
 His sty will not remain un-hereulesed 
 
 Forever, nor Omnipotence eclipsed. • 
 
 To be hedged in by heaven's high unconcern 
 
 Is the last lesson Satan has to learn. 
 
 Alecto. I fear, Celeno, that is figurative ; 
 
 A thousand titnes too gloiious to be true ! 
 
 Nay, buoy me not with hope I supplicate ; 
 
 My only hope is, that I'll hope no more. 
 
 Seeing disappointment to a fervid spirit 
 
 Is terrible as fire, or love, that first 
 
 Just shows us where we are, the golden smoke 
 
 Makes drowsy with a nectarine delight, 
 
 Lapsing us " in Elysian reveiie, 
 
 A momeutar}' dream " — then, suddenl}-, 
 
 Awaked, behold, a city full of flame ! 
 
 Where huge spires thunder down, and lofty fanes 
 
 Spoil with their spume the splendor of a sky 
 
 Of heaven-eclipsing hurricanes ; the shade 
 
 Of Bale is full of havoc hope has made. 
 
 Thus sturdy spirits feel for love undone, 
 
 As waves are warm long after set of sun. 
 
 Exit Alecto, singiny. 
 
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 i! I 
 
 1 ly 
 
 I 
 
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 f 
 
 010 
 
 ^7 W 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 I 
 
 Celeno. I've more compunction for humanity 
 
 Tlian all the Hinnonites that hither come 
 
 E'en from more favored worlds ; man's lot is hard^ 
 
 But woman's harsher, being more sensitive. 
 
 That taxed inheritance which they call life 
 
 Is doled to them, strained thro' a sieve of pain. 
 
 And from that moment till they colonise 
 
 In death is one fierce struggle and defeat. 
 
 Yet some of them endure their agony 
 
 With a strange grandeur ; even Alecto once 
 
 Was human, but long years of tortui'ing 
 
 O'erstrained her high-strung «oul : as honey makes 
 
 The purest acid, so fine minds pure fiends : 
 
 'Tis one of those unfathomable quirks 
 
 Which the Almighty weaves into his works. 
 
 Re-enter Alecto. 
 
 I would not phrase, Alecto, after all, 
 
 If earth should be the place of peace foretold. 
 
 Surely it costs Jehovah scanty toil 
 
 To will new worlds in blue immensity. 
 
 Alecto. One fiat of his word immaculate, 
 And lo, illimitable orbs caroom 
 All jubilant in azurous inane. 
 
 Celeno. But 'tis humanity's dependency 
 Makes me believe something may come of it ; 
 With misery, else earth had not been so reft, 
 But be left vagrant, as the grovelling herds ; 
 And not for nothing be accountable. 
 Nay man must have millenniums of life — 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 •J 4 3 
 
 If he will walk according to the truth — 
 
 Else his existence is creation'.s blot. 
 
 That day draws nigh id spite of spurious creeds, 
 
 Priests, and their craft's presumptuous ignorance : 
 
 Their genuflections — gods, it genders spleen, 
 
 To see mankind so supple in the knees 
 
 To error, and rheumatic to the truth ! 
 
 What chore, Alecto have you to perform i 
 
 Altcto. None, but I think I'll to Urania go ; 
 My lungs require some change of .spiritual air. 
 
 Celeno. My sister, wing thy flight by way of Mars, 
 
 (His occultation is in apogee) 
 
 Urge the mailed god immediately to me. 
 
 Now will I sing a .song for me he made 
 
 One Spring in Greece before he was a goij. 
 
 It half inclines me to relax my heart, 
 
 For of all gods Mars is most amorous — 
 
 Hence war and women may be similar — 
 
 For constancy as well as courage wins ; 
 
 And were I sure my loss his peace destroyed 
 
 I would no more renounce him, nor avoid. 
 
 But to my tune : the chorus of it is : 
 
 No high angel knows his story ; 
 
 Why he was dismissed, 
 Out from jacinth walls of glory. 
 
 Pearl and amethyst. 
 To be one with fcjols deoraded 
 In this realm by cypress shaded. 
 
 1 , ; ti 
 
 I 'tl 
 
 ii' 
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 i :.S 
 
 Mars listening. 
 
•JU 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 Boliokl the essence of iny misery ! 
 
 A fair but subtle beauty ; bother <?ods, 
 
 T could reconquer worlds undreamed of by 
 
 Yon druliu}^ imbecile of Macedon 
 
 More easily than win the one I crave. 
 
 (Jeleno, had 1 known 'twas thou didst send, 
 
 With airless friction had I warped my wings 
 
 Sooner to lave me in thy excellence. 
 
 But to void earth, the tomb of all my hopes, 
 
 J timidly prolonged my starry way ; 
 
 O sweet aroma of bruised happiness ! 
 
 Celeno. You say not so when dure Bellona's by, 
 
 Or opes, gay patron of the glebe, beneath 
 
 Those spotted beechen groves Idalian 
 
 Exit both. 
 
 SCENE II. . 
 
 A foi'est of bohon-upas and yew, with its charred 
 branches creaking in the retreating storm. A raven 
 is seen to alight on a burning palm ; then presently 
 follows the tempest ; " moaning and calling out of 
 other lands." 
 
 Lucifer musing and gazing on the bastions of bliss 
 as they appear " edged with intolerable radiancy." 
 
 Enter Tervtiinus and jEacus tvith specifications for 
 a gigantic inquisition. Its immediate execution ren- 
 dered requisite by the struggle between good and evil. 
 
 Term. How hot this mart ! 
 
 ^a. Shortlv a shower of souls. 
 
 Wailing, will cool those purgatorial coals. 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 245 
 
 Good Terminus, I liopo thoii'lt not (.K't'cr ; 
 
 Bale's densely wedged for whart'ajjfe oven now, 
 
 So fast came France from Prussia's crimson spears ; 
 
 And there are other empires in arrears. 
 
 The Beast is brooding in the Leopard's lair, 
 
 And, with the Dragon, straightway to declare 
 
 War against wisdom ; who shall overthrow, 
 
 In Canaan's valley of Decision, D^-ath. 
 
 So spake Isaiah, and 'tis proven ; great 
 
 Events do also point to near this date. 
 
 As witness Ischia, Java, when their spume 
 
 Made high tide in Avernus ; and the doom, 
 
 Nigh to extinction, of her temporal power, 
 
 Who would the chosen child of Heaven devour. 
 
 The fulness of the Gentiles has come in ; 
 
 Those walls 'twixt earth and Bale are wearing thin. 
 
 The planets also, now, with evil chime, 
 
 And, pregnant with perihelion, foster crime. 
 
 And pestilence ; and every potentate, 
 
 So learn I, is a target for the hate 
 
 Of millions of their subjects, who are stiong 
 
 In worship of material gods, and wrong. 
 
 So must we steadily our plans advance 
 
 For the requirements of infuriate France. ' 
 
 Exit. 
 Enter Lucifer. 
 
 Luc. This is the hour when on the hills of Heaven, 
 The affluent vales, and gardens round the throne ; 
 On all the leafy blessings of those groves 
 By angels tenanted ; and on the wings 
 Of gorgeous cherubim, careering home 
 
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 fl 
 
 
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 111 
 
 246 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 
 m 
 
 II « 
 
 1' 
 
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 From alien errands of the royal One, 
 The dewy incense all refreshing falls ; ' 
 Cooling the drought that is not, till the cup 
 That is presented, makes it ; while my soul 
 Creaks like a barque by storms of gloom impelled 
 Thro' Hell's Sahara, darkly waiting doom ; 
 The fatal future which is sure to com'3. 
 
 A band of spirits soaring up singing : 
 
 AIR : "LAND AHEAD." 
 
 Lo, the gates are outward swinging, 
 Flash ye hills of sacred sward ! 
 
 Hear the throne-born anijels sinfjino- : 
 Hallelujah, praise tlie Lord. 
 
 Alpha and Omega still, 
 Able to abolish ill ; 
 White of feet on Zion's hill, ' 
 Hallelujah, praise the Lord. 
 
 In the blood sin shed He laved us ; 
 
 Zion soon to be restored, 
 By the Nazarene who saved us, 
 
 Hallelujah, praise the Lord. 
 
 Praises sing on harp and cymbal, 
 Heaven and earth, O great reward ! 
 
 Angels, evil, pale and tremble : 
 Hallelujah, praise the Lord. 
 
 Thou art rebellious ; how then wilt thou be 
 In the millennium ? how shall I bear 
 This cancer in eternity, and see 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 247 
 
 Legions who have no majesty like mine, 
 
 Maclv3 princes by Jehovah ? thou, Pride ! 
 
 No Pompeian sanult, or scrip cuneiform, 
 
 Are requisite to teach me what thou art. 
 
 And I but live to soothe thee, not with love, 
 
 As a you f bride her lord, but by revenge ; 
 
 For I have crushed creation thro' revenge. 
 
 But for that thouglit this hour would make eterne 
 
 The period called a day in human date ; 
 
 Such fecund scope hath pain to lengthen fate. 
 
 Now let me spread my immaterial wings. 
 
 And cleave the alien blue. Those fleecy clouds 
 
 Are dry for lack of verdure. Now they moan 
 
 With thunder, born of lightning in their caves ; 
 
 As herds that low for pasture on bleak hills. 
 
 Is yon great Heaven all happy ? Do I drive 
 
 The dreadful avalanches, shooting sheer 
 
 From storm-shorn summits to the wreckful sea. 
 
 Grinding alike the so-called bad and good ? 
 
 Enter two angels in space. 
 
 Ang. What shape informal greet we ? is that he 
 
 To whom we have an embassy ? I fear — 
 
 I must accost him : I must mediate. 
 
 Spirit, wing gently ; I would speak to thee ; 
 
 For we have heard of thee in other worlds. 
 
 I wage no war with thee, nor with thy foe ; 
 
 But in a council, lately held on high, 
 
 I have been deputised to offer thee 
 
 A portion for thine own, a vacant orb, 
 
 In lieu of Earth, forever ; a nude sphere. 
 
 Forget thine ancient grudge and sin no more. 
 
 ;' 1:1 
 
 uj 
 
 ■T 
 
 
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 •M 
 

 248 
 
 CHAOS, 
 
 
 I ■>> 
 
 Earth thou shalt one day lose ; then where will rest, 
 
 Where wilt thou rest thine unsubstantial winos { 
 
 Deprived of even Bale ; vex man no more ! , . 
 
 To what advantage art thou valiant, sin ^ 
 
 What if thou shouldst succeed in withering worlds — 
 
 What satisfaction, Satan, in such work ^ 
 
 But muse on all that wc i be worshipful, 
 
 Were sin converted. Bale beatified. 
 
 Ground thy dread arms and make Jehovah glad. 
 
 Demon, if in thy power to be redeemed, 
 
 Exchange thy drearj- destiny foi* bliss. 
 
 If heaven is glad when but one soul is saved, 
 
 What an occasion there would be for praise 
 
 If sin itself were changed, for lo, the time 
 
 Of earth's rehabitation is at hand ; 
 
 And thou knowest, Satan, wdiat that means to thee. 
 
 Satam. Art thou an emissary sent by Him ? 
 Know thou, if such, I've no allegiance there. 
 
 Aug. Nay, we but know th}^ nature from thy work. 
 
 Lucifer. What is the am|)litade of thy domain ? 
 
 Aug, Thrice more for good than is thy power for guilt. 
 
 LucifcA'. What meaneth thv millennial condition ? 
 ThOu temptest me as once I tempted others. 
 
 Ang. That He who overwhelmed thee once on high, 
 
 Will bind thee for a thousand years ; and then 
 
 Will overturn thee in a final woe. 
 
 'J'hese issues the still sentinels of niglit 
 
 Have published beyond doubting ; and the seers. 
 
 Angels dejKirt. 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 249 
 
 LUCIFER ALONE IN ACHERON AGAIN. 
 
 ■ * " 
 
 Enter Familiar Demon. 
 
 Fam. 'Tis well I find thee musing. 1 would probe 
 
 Thy prescience with augury : Let me know 
 
 The destiny of twain but lately seen 
 
 Where ancient Paradise was situate ; 
 
 As I did wander in that shadowy cool 
 
 Which fans the sun's hot face for restful sleep ; 
 
 I heard their conversation, and they spake 
 
 Of thee, and of thy crucifixion, — one, 
 
 A mortal, with munificence of soul, 
 
 Walkino- in her own dreams luxuriouslv, 
 
 Like Eve in Eden's first ethereal June, 
 
 Where peaceful mornings painted shadows for 
 
 The white feet of her faultless loveliness. 
 
 Her motions music visible like hair, 
 
 Or incense waving o'er an ivory fane ! 
 
 As shining folds of sacrificial fumes. 
 
 Whereto men are idolators who bow. 
 
 Yet he who held her thought, but not her heait, 
 
 Hath insight superhuman ; and he quoted 
 
 From Ezra, saying : The pillar of Sin's cross 
 
 Is that which holds the beam of Justice' scales ; 
 
 Moreover on it, hanging 'twixt two worlds. 
 
 To prove Immanuel triumvirate, 
 
 And witnessed by all Bale, 8iu shall expire. 
 
 Tell me who told these mortals of thy death i 
 
 Luc. Get back to thine appointment ; I may choose 
 This Daniel come to judgment for my use. 
 
 ! i ■ 
 ■ 1 ; » 
 
250 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 !l ; 
 
 
 ; 
 
 SCENE II. AGAIN. 
 
 Enter Familiar Demon and others. 
 
 Dem. What structure 's yon just reared in Acheron ? 
 
 Fam. 'Tis said that Satan hath proposed a plan 
 To ruin all the universe at once ; 
 Therefore that vast St. Peter of our realm 
 Is their infernal tribunal to be. 
 
 Dem. How were those Alpine pillars reared so high ? 
 
 Fam. Ninirod was loosed foi* that a little while : 
 
 He with some gods, Cyclops and Hercules, 
 
 Smote up the beams with earthquakes of much force, 
 
 And piled the majesty portentous there. 
 
 Bisf domes like midnifjhts tired with lio;htnino-s. 
 
 A smith from Lemnos forged the bossy doors, 
 
 But Satan's self 's the agony within. 
 
 See the red blasts of torment, where the walls 
 
 Are thunder-rived with tones of great distress. 
 
 Answering the keen demands of austere death. 
 
 Hell soon will summon all her demons home, 
 
 From every region where they wither worlds, 
 
 And make a different programme presently. 
 
 Dem. Let us wing thither and observe them come, 
 
 And as we cleave this air, expatiate 
 
 On nature's dissolution in her travail 
 
 To bring forth something better than mankind. 
 
 Fam. Dost thou believe that during the fierce stress, 
 The storm, and hail from heaven, and final woes, 
 That earth will be annihilated ? 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 251 
 
 Dem. Nay : 
 
 And yet the language is ambiguous, 
 
 Used by the seers ; but one proclaimed full sure 
 
 That Babylon shall be no more at all. 
 
 And with her also that ApoUyon, 
 
 The strong Usurper, who would grasp the throne 
 
 Belonging to the heavenly Nazarene ; 
 
 He, after forty moons, will raise his saints. 
 
 With all who died believing Him, in air. 
 
 Then shall the powers of two strong Principles 
 
 Besiege creation fiercely ; then the Beast, 
 
 The Leopard, and the Dragon, side by side, 
 
 Will howl around God's Son : meantime the seas 
 
 And hills will reel in strange delirium. 
 
 Then the four angels of the Euphrates, — 
 
 Having their wings dipped in its wave of blood — 
 
 The vials of wrath will empt}' ; then the sun 
 
 Will clothe in palls funereal the spheres, 
 
 And all his beams ray blackness, till no star 
 
 May know its neighbor star, or sun, or moon. 
 
 Demon, there w^ill be dreadful doings then ! 
 
 Then from the east, to show Himself is light, 
 
 The Author of the universe shall dash 
 
 A dazzlino; delucre of celestial flames 
 
 Forth from His throne of crimson clouds, and hosts 
 
 Innumerable of cherubim, and drive 
 
 Eternal terrors, ever-during woes, 
 
 Confusion overwhelming, fierce defeat 
 
 Against the guilty who denied their God. 
 
 r ■ ! 
 
 ii 
 
252 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 SCENE T. AGAIN. 
 
 Enter Demon and Familiar. 
 
 Dem. There while we rest an incideut I'll tell 
 
 Which did transpire on earth, the place of sin : 
 
 There was a ruler once in Gallic realms 
 
 A blood relation unto Antichrist, 
 
 He who when power was given to do much good, 
 
 Did sit him down imperiously mute 
 
 Nor cared for coming strife ; he mused not on 
 
 Man's future apparition -life, man's fall, 
 
 What men are most addicted to, and all ' 
 
 Earth might become sans sin. His Roman queen — 
 
 Fam. Oust the delusion of the obdure sex ^, 
 
 Their charms for aye eventuate to vex ! 
 
 Pardon my contradictory reply, 
 
 All mei) lose faith in women ere they die ; 
 
 Experience is Uke science, it lays bare. 
 
 Those moons our early fancy saw so fail*. 
 
 Dem. Such sad conclusions piove experience foul, 
 
 For love itself can bridge eternity. 
 
 If it is guiltless, I infer that gold 
 
 Greatly excludes salvation from men's minds. 
 
 Fam. Yea, so do I, but 'tis the want of it, 
 Gold is the missionary's staff and scrip ; 
 There is no eloquence like gold, no power. 
 
 Dem. Can gold make purchase of the gate of death, 
 Or liberate the lost ? 
 
 Fam. Yes ere they come. 
 
 And subsequently, frequently it doth. 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 
 Dem. Can you bribe nature to grow golden figs 
 On tartish crabs ? it were a bastard stock. 
 
 Fam. Still, if twere gold, gold turns all crabs to plums, 
 And makes all bastards leffal. 
 
 Dem. But the worm ? 
 
 The worm that never dies, what of the worm ? 
 
 Fam. That, and its like, is nurtured by defect, 
 It propagates not in prosperity. 
 
 Dem. Just Job was wcaltliy, was he prospei'ous ? 
 
 Fam. He did not u.se his funds judiciously. 
 
 Being a bard; they never bow to gold, 
 
 Which is one wherefohe they are miserable. 
 
 As one we wot oi, our familiar friend. 
 
 But poets never have been understood 
 
 Save by a few pure women of high souls ; 
 
 Yet by their love they too augment misfortune. 
 
 Dem. Gold makes no cause after earth's final pale. 
 
 'Fam. Well earth's one seed of the eternal tree 
 While all men's acts are tendrils tempest swung. 
 'Ihere may be bliss that gold can never buy, 
 But misery its want can multiply. ' 
 
 Dem. Js not the world's work by its wants ])erformed 
 Focal necessity's concentrant power 
 Goads slavery on to freedom. 
 
 Fam. Freedom, yea, 
 
 Freedom to deluge with abnormal pains 
 Themselves, and broadcast ruin's germs for Bale. 
 
 i 
 
 I ( 
 
 i ! '« 
 
 
 'I 
 
 
 I <-:\i 
 
 i ^ 
 
 J 
 
 m 
 '(■■ 
 
 ^ I 
 
 I 
 
■ i .ULLlJWL ' tia B IL ' -a 
 
 254 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 el ' 
 
 1 studied all conceptions of despair, 
 
 I knew gehenna's worst conditions well, 
 
 Ere coming ; all high aspirations crushed • 
 
 In youth's dark days ; from me fate held a hand 
 
 That might have saved, Imagination then, 
 
 Some respite gained by conjuring Paradise 
 
 Whose only clouds were miiiisterinc: anirel's wings 
 
 O'er vales of spice producing redolency. 
 
 By streams of palms with showers of dropping pearls, 
 
 On grasses alchymised to emeralds 
 
 June after June, till e'en misfortune smiled 
 
 To see lush fruit fall into verdure's lap, 
 
 By azure rivers over golden sands, 
 
 Whereby we trysted roving hand in hand 
 
 From purple dawn to even opaline. 
 
 Dem. Such whims do fade from cogitation's mirror, 
 Aware excess, when want does make its worth. 
 Would mar what good was in it ; furthermore — 
 
 FaTTi. Nay, but those dreams did not delude me long 
 They scarce sufficed to sooth my fantasy. 
 
 Dem. Still as statistics show war's ranks are filled 
 By disappointed hope, so haply woe's. 
 We'll prove it by recruits from recreant Ganl 
 Who must be near her advent hitherward. 
 
 Farti. Now art thou void of logic, listen me : 
 The earth, like that same snake that tempted Eve, 
 Will cast her leprous scales of evil in 
 Bethesda's bath millennial, and be free. 
 
 Demi. What is the direst evil men invent ? 
 
 Bad human stock wrong bearing and worse rearing. 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 255 
 
 Dem. I thought the tears because of faithlessness 
 In exhalations from the graveyard world 
 Would the white Jasper stain of Zion's throne. 
 Why did not the old seers announce this thing, 
 In mercy to mankind. 
 
 Fam. Thay did so, oft 
 
 But men such laws material deem, and still 
 They forge the chains that fasten them to ill. 
 
 Exeunt all. 
 
 • SCENE III. 
 
 Space east of the Sun. Juno, Hebe, and Iris, 07t their 
 airy way toivards Flora, one of the Asteroids. 
 
 Vast worlds on worlds, inhabited and high, 
 Songful surrounded thein, fast wheeling by. 
 
 Iris. What globe is yon just yearning o'er hell's verge 
 It looks as if forsaken of the Lord ? 
 
 Juno. That is our earth ; how innocent it seems, 
 Seeing 'tis a world to which their bans are tagi^ed, 
 Like Enck's odd comet bearing triune tails ; 
 Lone as a drifting wreck o'er dreadful seas, 
 By pirates boarded M'^ho no knowledge have 
 Of compass, keel, or sun ; or whither bound. 
 It is infested with a curious crew ; 
 Predestined for j^jreat things yet so perverse ; 
 So beautiful the gods have wept for it ; , 
 But yet 'tis chartered by Omnipotence 
 To orb the azure ocean of the air 
 Till He will guide it into port in time 
 
 1 :i\ 
 
 p. 
 
 
 W 
 
 
•J 50 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 i 
 
 Hebe. Urge thou more westward ; I would see that 
 Its clouds are love)}' as the vivid silk orb. 
 Of some huge god's abandoned, war-torn tent. 
 With many tints as an October day, 
 When to the south's a bright meridian sun, 
 
 Ahd to the north a sable thunderstorm. 
 
 » /' 
 
 Juno. A beamy ruby on ])iana's breast, 
 Behold the bay of Naples ; yonder's Rome 
 In hoary desolation of old days. 
 Northward obscure J(?rusalem decayed, 
 The holy city, once, and Zion named.. 
 To be rebuilded when the kingdom comes. 
 The mournful citv where men crucified 
 The Son of God who came to save his foes, 
 Fiom Him all creed that have a goodly core, 
 Do come, as lights ami planets from the sun. 
 Twere just as well if worlds should crucify 
 The glorious sun who doth their lights supply. 
 Surely an impious deed ; heart-rending death 1 
 
 Hebe. What is that superhuman phantom. Death f 
 
 Juno. There, all except the Deity, are dumb. 
 Being dim thro' mercy, but made bright by faith. 
 
 Hebe. What land 's that with lakes of silvery blue 
 To westward, like an occidental dawn ? 
 
 Juno. A new Dominion from oblivion comes ; 
 Perchance to serve in the prophetic role 
 As once did Egypt unto Canaan's plight. ' 
 
 I mention these remembering you were born. 
 In that mild star that hath a different map. 
 
ruAOS. 
 
 •267 
 
 Hebe. Those re^jions liavo been mentioned in our oiK, 
 Chancfwise, but nothing definite till now, 
 Saving of Eden and Jerusalem. 
 Meantime inform me of those clouds of smoke 
 Rising as from red holocausts in Bale '. 
 
 Juno. Such as they seem they are or are to be. 
 
 Hebe. Why are they vvitli infernal fury scourged ; 
 
 Juno. I know not why, such lore is limited. 
 
 It may be so to cure the culpable 
 
 By dread ordeals, this nation thus may warn 
 
 Other that reason is not God, and save, 
 
 High worlds that have not sinned ; at once make pure 
 
 Themselves and teach celestial cause for praise : 
 
 We will jeturn to that unhappy world 
 
 After a thousand years or so, and see 
 
 How prophecy hath changed geography. 
 
 The day may now be sighted by some star 
 
 Whose dawn will tint the eternal firmament, 
 
 Burning away aboniijiation's shades, 
 
 And in some future Waterloo decide 
 
 Once and forever human destinv. 
 
 But yonder's lophet's tainted atmosphere 
 
 Lit by volcanoes barking to the moon. 
 
 SCENE III. AGAIN. 
 
 Enter, Bakd, alone. 
 
 Bard. This dim immitigable den is full 
 Of scowling gh5sts on errands of despair 
 
 t\ 
 
 
 1 ; /■ 
 Jilt 
 
 
 I 
 
 * 
 
258 
 
 CIIA08. 
 
 Blaspheming, yot of destiny afraid ; 
 From one of skill I heard this .sullen song. 
 
 We have passed the grim portal 
 
 Have trod the broad way, 
 With evil immortal ^ 
 
 'Tis folly to pray : 
 The ceiling's of cinder 
 
 The flooring of brass, 
 They evermore hinder 
 
 From hither to j)ass. 
 
 Strange the supremest joy that mortals know 
 Should terminate in torture ! 
 
 Fam. Even so 
 
 Sweet minstrel ; but why murmur, 'tis in vain, 
 
 Come and behold a baptism of strange fire. 
 
 The acrimonious initiation, ■ 
 
 Of hither- hastening Gaul ; haply we may 
 
 See some similitudes exceedinj' far 
 
 Thy soul's regretful loss. 
 
 Bard. 
 
 I cannot go 
 
 Because too deep I sympathize witli wop. 
 
 Fam. Then I must haste" At scene alone 
 
 Exii ciloquiziny on the way. 
 
 As song may mu.sic have and phantasy, 
 Yet he too sad, so his I will not laud, 
 The better to discourage dreariness ; 
 For nothing, even women, wine or war. 
 Can sap vitality so fast as care. 
 
* 
 
 CIIA08. 
 
 259 
 
 A poet's mission is to toacli grand hopes ; 
 
 How to endure misfortune with (hie force; 
 
 But not to weep, tho' seldom witliout cause, 
 
 For they're reformers and all Bale hates such. 
 
 Yet sadness is a symptom of great souls. 
 
 With wit narcotic si)iced consistently. 
 
 Great gifts enai)le nuin to see great faidts, 
 
 Both in themselves and in the universe ; 
 
 For the large contrast 'twixt their visions pui'e, 
 
 And grim reality's assiduous wrongs, 
 
 Spreads o'er imagination a dark glow. 
 
 Like a volcano's glare in Paradise. 
 
 And when the hlast of desolation comes, 
 
 Since as our talents will our torments be 
 
 The low, like tiexible reeds, by bending live ; 
 
 But let it smite the oak, an<l every bough 
 
 Resists it fiercely till o'erwhelmed for aye. 
 
 So grandeur trembles when its treasure's gone, 
 
 As a bough quivers when the bird has tlown. 
 
 Imagination marvels why he came, 
 
 Down to this unroijfeneratinfx realm; 
 
 So dark ! I scarce can see the wounding way, 
 
 Egyptian shadows throng the sighing sky, 
 
 Filled with the elfish animalcula, 
 
 Or mist of midges on a moonlit stream, 
 
 With sounds resembling flocks of storks befogged, 
 
 Once witnessed egged by storms thro' earth's pale air ; 
 
 More furious thase ! how they increase on high , 
 
 Sans precedent, except preceding death, 
 
 They came ; innumerous as clouds of sand 
 
 From some huge hill driven down upon the main, 
 
 Howling and trundling to eternity. 
 
 ^ 
 
 In'l' . 
 
260 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 Like thunder-tempests seaward hurtled on. 
 Here's tribute for sad Charon and the dogs, 
 That sleepless guard the gho^t-worn gate of gloom 
 
 pi 
 
 I \ 
 
 " ; SCENE V. 
 
 The hall of Nemesis to luhich reference luas 7na<le in. 
 Scene III. By a yellow gorge uhose pro'ineutoriet^ 
 dandle moaning A vermis in their melancholy 
 embrace. 
 
 Present. The Dii Major nm GenMam, including 
 Janus, jEacus, Lucifer, Celeuo, Alecto, etc., to re- 
 ceive the spirits from. Apollyon luith their hosts. 
 Time, after the battle of Decision. 
 
 Luc. We miss a host of Jews we certainly 
 
 Believed were coming hither, and from Zion 
 
 The false Usurper of its throne ; but he 
 
 Is coming by infallibility, 
 
 The craft that brings blasphemiug legions down 
 
 Damnation's most prolific tributary. 
 
 Enter Apollyon in charge of Pluto 
 
 Fam. Mention his majesty, and lo, he comes. 
 A Berlin, vive le roi, comme il faut, hail,^ 
 Quote me ambition's stock in Salem now, 
 Thv chances for the throne Iberian ? 
 
 Luc. Give him in chai'ge. take him, ye fiends, awav. 
 
 Fam. Haste thither to tlie region Mal^bolge. 
 
 Apol. What clime is that i 
 
CHAOS. 
 
 261 
 
 Fomi. A festal land and fair. 
 
 " The valley of the many colored grass," 
 
 Of foliage glorified and sacred song, 
 
 That has for a^es been resort of kino-s. 
 
 And emperors who loved the luxury. 
 
 Of mercy to their minions, and mil't rule. 
 
 Among the vast investments of its peace 
 
 Are mild Celeno and Alecto found, 
 
 Bead-countina^ beauties musical and cov. 
 
 And they will bind thine opal crown with balm, 
 
 And bathe thy feet, late blistered in the fires 
 
 Of those who died for faith, in coolinir milk, 
 
 They to thy couch will let no nightmares come, 
 
 'Hoi'rent of reptiles boring conscious flesh. 
 
 The Phantom with the scythe shall never scare, 
 
 Nor shriek distressful marring chansoned morn. 
 
 No Bismarck with thy sceptre interfere. 
 
 To mar the mirthful tents of tenderness. 
 
 But damsels with white charms a feast will si)read 
 
 Of pomegranates crimson as tlieir smiles 
 
 All savory to soothe an empei-or 
 
 Most recent honey out of hybla-hives 
 
 Tinctured by spice Cey Ionian, and creams 
 
 On costly plate, and wine in precious stones. 
 
 O'er thee will wave the ever-vernal palms 
 
 In rosy airs, from isles salubrious. 
 
 Made soft by music from the minstrel spheres, 
 
 Fast by a slope of immaterial swai-ds, 
 
 Where thou canst dream such dreams as Dante did, 
 
 Down by a lake which holds no moorings; lo, 
 
 This is the lake ; this is the abyss baptismal — 
 
 Do not despise it tho' just now 'tis dismal. 
 y 
 
262 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 
 Na'p. I V. The Scarlet Woman, the Beast, the Leopard, 
 the Dragon, and their followers. 
 
 Luc. Who so a friend betrays is truly cursed, 
 And whoso me embroils, as thou didst thrice, 
 Is lowlier than pence-loving Judas sunk. 
 Allow me, gentle ghosts, be introduced. 
 Prince Maximilian, from Mexico, 
 His highness Emperor of France ; thy friend. 
 These others, thou art well awaie of these. 
 
 Max. Away, I scorn to greet thee, perjured, I 
 
 Will stipulate that every fiend in Bale, 
 
 Shall blast thee from this gloomy ghost-grooved shore, 
 
 As from thy throne rebellious, falsely got 
 
 From miscreant millions, sycophants and slaves. 
 
 The shambles and monopoly of shame. 
 
 Whose quit-claim to corruption ne'er was served. 
 
 Because she took Jehovah for a jest, 
 
 And made of sophistry and lust a god. 
 
 / SCENE III. AGAIN. 
 
 Enter Familiar, observing the Bird afar of. 
 
 Fam. That bard was once a lofty soul, of late 
 He melancholy seems, or is bemooned 
 By the remembrance of some earthly dame. 
 O, they are apt in ruin ! never 3'et 
 Did any maid e'er love a lordly man. 
 For inasmuch as he doth reverence her — 
 And reverence is a portion of that foice 
 Which leads true souls and lifts them — even so 
 
CHAOS. 263 
 
 She deems him foolish for his preference. - * 
 
 Perchance beccause they never love themselves; 
 
 But, overlook time's page from Job to John, 
 
 A poet was the first Jehovah chose 
 
 To wi'ite creation's saci'ed history. 
 
 And all men know of heaven the latter told ; 
 
 Yea, all the seers who wrote between those twain 
 
 Were bards, by truth inspired for being such. 
 
 While symbols in the Testament attest, 
 
 A faith so mighty, millions die for it. 
 
 Yet human hosts, by giving way to folly, 
 
 Do make themselves a Hell to which they hie, 
 
 Then upbraid faith : if fiends their chances had, 
 
 How gladly would they hail redeeming good. 
 
 Yet tho' one from this ruined realm arose, 
 
 They would not hear, for planning funerals, 
 
 And diseinboguing Mammonites in Bale. 
 
 Enter Bard. 
 
 Bard, Familiar I do long to look on earth, 
 Since all things are renewed, and Antichrist 
 Is overthrown, and men do sin no more. 
 
 Fain. How dost thou know 'the day of grace is due ? 
 
 Bard. Because the Beast and Dragon have come down. 
 I'm not at home with such inhabitants, 
 But even in dim youth I had a faith, 
 Some called it phrensy and some phantasy, 
 Things would be as they are ; 0, for a force. 
 To break all bands between us and be free ; 
 For there is in i»vs,^ul, and 'tis not pride ; 
 A likeness to imi.iOi>.als, yea, to gods ! 
 
264 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 «■■ i I! 
 
 l^' 
 
 Enter Judo. 
 
 Jitno. Thy pardon for obtruding unannounced. 
 
 Bard. Juno, it is ni}' life when thou art near : 
 Let us hold converse of the beautiful, 
 Whose be^t solution 1 of thee obtain ; 
 For I am pained because of human pain. 
 
 Juno. Thou, and thy brethren prove convincingly, 
 That the imaofinative live more life, 
 And deeper draughts do drink of love's sad lore, 
 Than common mortals, therefore they excel. 
 I thouQfht thou wert elected when on earth, 
 Seeinq; thv sins were the discouraojements 
 Thy kindred heaped athwart the rill of good : 
 Which, when it breaks its bondage, well we know. 
 Hurls backward all obstruction straight below. 
 How dids't thou cogitate, give me a clue ? 
 
 Bard. Strange that when Moses stood upon the verge 
 
 Jehovah's spirit moving on the flood, 
 
 Divulged creation, and unto his gaze 
 
 Gave huofe Leviathans, and divino- bulks 
 
 Of winged brutes, scorpions, sea-adullamites ; 
 
 And forest-craunching, i-ock- uprooting fires — 
 
 A vast synopsis of oblivion — 
 
 Yet gave no hint of everduring Bale. 
 
 And where the latter of those symbols seven. 
 
 Which the Creator hinted to the seer 
 
 When each starved soul would, like the prodigal. 
 
 Come home to its inheritance, and rest ? 
 
 Juno. Haply thy qu(»stions, as most questions do, 
 Hold indirectly their own answers' clue ; 
 
CHAOS. 0(]5 
 
 So life etern a grander boon may be 
 Than all the bards can ask, or dream, or see. 
 But let me hence ; a winged excursion leaves, 
 Some orbs beyond old Aldebaran's dawn, 
 With the extreme intelliguncj of doom 
 Ordained in our own universe. Farewell. 
 
 Bard. Nay, Juno, with thee let me journey there ; 
 
 A Bard is not a cominon mortal Juno. 
 
 Forgive thou my presumption urging thee ; 
 
 But who with genius gifted to prefer 
 
 All that is lovely in the earth and sky, 
 
 Could help his admiration, tho' 'twere death, 
 
 Nor long for immortality ? O Queen ! 
 
 Thou owest me something for my ruined yeai v 
 
 Come, then celestial, make my visions true. 
 
 Juno. I feel thy bardic fervor, and the odds 
 Are in thy favor when compared to gods ; 
 
 And, if thou canst thy prefeieace justify. 
 Extend thy pinions, let us to the sky. 
 
 SCENE V. ABOVE THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Bard. Hark, Juno, 1 do hear the jubilee 
 Of the redeemed triumphant ? 
 
 Juno. 
 
 Sweet to hear 
 
 ANGELS SINGING. 
 
 
 Ye daughters of Zion give praises again, 
 Thy foemen are sunken once more in the main : 
 Not in the Red Sea but in seven-fold fire 
 The horsemen of Baal shall forever expire. 
 
\ I 
 
 ! !! 
 
 266 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 ApoUyon has perished, for how could he fight ? 
 While the sun had on sackcloth, the moon hid hor light; 
 And the stars fought for Salem that terrible daj', 
 And the cherubim cried, " for Jehovah make way," 
 
 Then Justice with lefjions of anojels aflame 
 Rode down on their foe in the valley of shame ; 
 The saints had a light from the Lord, but his gloom 
 To Dagon was death in that battle of doom. 
 
 Whose feet were as scarlet with sacrificed blood ? 
 The Beast's and the Dragon's when warring'gainst God- 
 In the vale of decision they struggled iji vain, 
 For the woes weve at work and the rocks were as rain. 
 
 Whose banners are bright on the city of Peace ? 
 From Tarshish are they, and the isles of the seas; 
 In their ships of the sea are the tribes of the shore, 
 With the sceptre of David to Judah once more. 
 
 Who sits in the circle upon the white horse ? 
 'Tis the Bride that the evil one tried to divorce : 
 Who is He who in darkness his enemy hurled ? 
 That is He who was slain for the sins of the world. 
 
 Go tell the winged flames round the throne of the Lord, 
 The Light of the Temple to Salem's restored ! 
 Go tell them, Miram of timbrels, and sing: 
 Jehovah has triumphed, the Bridegroom is King ! 
 
 ^^•^yLi 
 
 rv^ 
 
SWINE. 
 
 •2iJ7 
 
 Swinc. 
 
 ^BSERVE the swine I who has not heard the praise 
 Of all the birds that sino; or flocks that j^raze ? 
 'XP^ Yet, strange neglect, we never have a line 
 Laudatory of meadow-loving swine. 
 Is this an ancient uriidofe remembered still 
 'Gainst Satan's refujre rushingf down the hill ? 
 Why blame the modern brutes for sins extinct, , 
 Save in a few of our own species linked ? 
 Some pei'pendiculai', like men in shape. 
 Who meanly rush for every office gap. 
 Nerve-bent on gain, the power of grasping more, 
 With ceaseless greed till life's poor play is o'er ? 
 
 But truth will triumph, and it ever should, 
 As pounded glass will sparkle tho' in mud ; 
 The hog shall have his due. Come, lofty muse. 
 Grant him the fame the fates so lonjx refuse. 
 Come spritely visions ; Retribution, come ! 
 All things that sigh in song or blush in bloom. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
2GS 
 
 SWINK. 
 
 Bright as the sc(3nte(l ^ 
 air that gently swings 
 
 Tlie orange branches 
 where a bul-bul sings 
 
 In answer to a wing- 
 borne whip-poor-will, 
 
 Lone harper of the rose- 
 clouds high and still, 
 
 ii 
 
 Whose vespers vibrate down the vista-aisles 
 Where parting day on pensive evening smiles ; 
 
SWIXK, 
 
 L>G9 
 
 Like golden fruit u|»on the green sward spread 
 
 From fertile boughs by fragrant zephyr shed, 
 
 The buUfiog croaking in the deep mill-dam 
 
 Whose smothered thunders break the evening calm ; 
 
 The cowbell tinkling in the twilight shade, 
 
 The wondrous color on tlie land.^cape laid, 
 
 All shapes and shades of slighted swine appeal", 
 
 Each with his knife-docked tail or branded ear, 
 
 Slow sauntering down the iane with muddy heels, 
 
 To snutf frankincense out of buckwheat fields ; 
 
 Or carrying straw before an autunni storm, 
 
 To keep th}' cosy resting jdaces warm. 
 
 Or recklessly besieging stacks of straw,. 
 
 When chilly winds are eastwardly and raw — 
 
 Come and confute your foes and let them see 
 
 Which are deservino- censure, thev or thee. 
 
 Appeal to reason, and if none remains. 
 
 Appeal to appetite, theie all have brains — 
 
 They come, they come ! ye gormands, raise your eyes 
 
 See amber rows of salutory pies. 
 
 From ham and eggs a myi-rhy steam upcurls, 
 
 From pastry waiting to l)e Itoys and gii'ls. 
 
 With future strength to I'ule this mundane ball, 
 
 So potent are those acts considered small. 
 
 While commerce, scorninof iialtiv whims of caste. 
 
 Floats bacon loads along the watery waste, 
 
 To barter there for blessini>'s needed home. 
 
 Or to support his sailors as they roam 
 
 Thro' far ofi* isles in oriental seas 
 
 Where birds of Eden trill in cassia trees. 
 
 (0 fields, the fields, the sunny fields of spring, 
 
 All day, all night thy. veiy rivers sing !) 
 
 If ; 
 
 f, 
 
 i 
 
L'70 
 
 SWIXii. 
 
 Crowned with the east his barques recross the main, 
 And nations gather knowledge witli their gain. 
 
 In every possible clime where food is found 
 He wendetli forth to graze or grove the ground, 
 By Baalbec, still Persepolis, or where 
 
 
 -s-aA.V^,^. 
 
 
 '^^//'i^v.^; 
 
 
 '>*>a*.-^- ^ 
 
 W^^'i 
 
 Old Pharpar once made bright the desert air, 
 By bowery banyan trees, or to we ry palms; 
 Yea, he believes earth yields for him her yams 1 
 
 'Tis said, and truly, that our food contains 
 The various properties of various brains ; 
 Byron called bacon amatory food. 
 Hence a vast influence for doing good ; 
 However this may be one truth is sure 
 That to the good and pure all' tilings are i)ure. 
 
 
8W1NK. 
 
 271 
 
 Some bilious blunderers of a purblind school 
 
 Who hint th' omnivorous animal, man's a fool. 
 
 Maintain the blest millennium soon would greet 
 
 This purse-mad world if man would eat no meat ; 
 
 That earth would be expunged from all distress, 
 
 And brotherly love come by the first express. 
 
 'Tis true there's more in part than eating all 
 
 To purify our morals heart or gall ; 
 
 But what makes mind no mortal known can tell ; 
 
 In such abundant ignorance we dwell, 
 
 So let it rest with our uncertain sins, 
 
 Till proved wheie pork-mind ends and beef's begins. 
 
 To one lost sense life never bars her dower 
 
 That temperance gives health, and health is power, 
 
 Hence gourmand and ascetic both we blame, 
 
 For health, and life and temperance are the same ; 
 
 No universal rute will suit all cases. 
 
 Our hunger differs as our fates or faces. 
 
 And almost any creed a man may choose 
 
 Will leave his spirit partial in its views, 
 
 Especially observing those unblest 
 
 Who sin without the sect by him professed. 
 
 A moderate use of ail things lent by heaven 
 
 Is the best precept that the wise have given. 
 
 Except the dram ; one universal curse 
 
 Speeds its devotees to the lonesome hearse. 
 
 We leave the aroument on Reason's shelf — 
 
 Let every mortal civilize himself 
 
 li 
 
 I've been informed that men of learning great, 
 Whose business basis is to propagate 
 Judicious fossils, digging in a rock 
 
272 
 
 HWINK. 
 
 , i 
 
 il 
 
 ! I: 
 
 A tapir Ibund, but this the skeptics inocl\ — 
 
 A tapir i.s tho Adam of the swine, 
 
 Says evohitioTi, a collateral line — 
 
 A thesis (louhters bitterly dispute ; 
 
 For brutish men d(!S[)ise their fellow brute. 
 
 But when the season wanes towards the tall ' 
 Then comes the saddest tragedy of all : 
 The bij^ fat barrow in his sty of straw 
 Must die — 'tis life's inevitable law — 
 The long knife lets the life blood from his breast. 
 Or the quick rifle gives his spirit rest. 
 Sful fate, but certain — let him rest in peace 
 And let the small boy have his bacon grease ; 
 Hale lads, hard laboring in the autumn aii' 
 Require a huge su|)ply of healthy fare. 
 Else they will sally forth beneath the moon 
 To roast the corn and slay the sly raccoon. 
 Now the same pots tliat cooked his nibs of corn, 
 His pea and pumpkin provender at morn, 
 Contain the boiling flood to scald his hair, 
 Ere from the lug-pole hangs his bacon bare. 
 No more for him to root the flowery mead, 
 Nor come with upcurled nairative to feed, 
 No more to stand the barnyard bars outside 
 Squealing for entrance at the eventide ; 
 No more to husk the yellow corn for him 
 In fine October when the days are dim, 
 And beautiful in haziness subdued, 
 And happy as a hungry swine with food. 
 
FOrNI). 
 
 I'-.'l 
 
 [ 
 
 ]foun^. 
 
 iPvfow being for the owner moved to pity, 
 -J^ VVe advertise the gem by fate conferred : 
 An earring in a temple of the city 
 
 Of Brooklyn, Sunday, June the twenty-third ; 
 A golden circlet jaclntliine and pearly 
 
 That scarce could add a charm to where it hung 
 Chaste fron) a little ear in tresses curly, 
 
 As dewdrops hang in vines when day is young. 
 
 Some hundreds had all heedlessly passed o'er it, 
 
 Coming from Talmage's that summer morn ; 
 'Twere meet to tind the owner and restore it 
 
 Within the tabernacle upon Schermerhorn. 
 On Bergen or Jerolyman young maiden, 
 
 Or near the bridge that overlooks the tiSe, 
 With all its argosies of life o'erladen, 
 
 Dear sylphid of my dreams, dost thou abide. 
 
 Perchance we have met frequently not knowing. 
 On Fulton, Flatbush, or in Oxford Place : 
 
 Fate often hinders projects of bestowing, 
 Until too late, some act of tender grace. 
 
 ■n 
 
274 
 
 A mp:dalliox of lexa n. 
 
 i! 
 
 
 
 So costly link my .spirit fears tiiy chances 
 Of coupling adverse destinies are few, 
 
 Save thou art hers whose chai stable glances 
 Invited me to share her Sunday pew. 
 
 A doubt that thou hast been a tender token 
 
 From her heart's choice bedims thy dewy gleam 
 And mars my lovely musings ; be unspoken 
 
 For it is far more beautiful to dream 
 A ring of gold upon a slender finger, 
 
 And clasp the same if it were possible ; 
 Romance is the soul's rainbow, let us linger, 
 
 And fondly hesitate to say farewell. 
 
 a riDcDallion of Xena B. 
 
 (BY MISS VIDA MOSS NKAR, BROOKLYN). 
 
 JO WONDER men refined in reverend phrase 
 ~cJ^ Turn poets by thy beauty, unaware 
 
 Of using symbols delicately rare ; 
 Nor know this lovely emblem's but one phase 
 
 Of her whoso inspiration made it fair. 
 
 If music could be conjured from bright air. 
 And rendered visible, so would its rays 
 
 Be as thy gifted eyes and smiling hair. 
 
 If thou to those who love not dost appear 
 Thai this mute shadow is to them a shrine, 
 Vestured in vapory myrrh, or music fine 
 
 As Sappho made aflush with Phaon's praise, 
 Then how much more must I, a bard, revere 
 A portrait and a gift that brings the artist Near. 
 
TORONTO BAY. 
 
 175 
 
 JCoronto Ba\). 
 
 (W. .1. B. MOORE.) 
 
 fteusHKD was my har[i, unworthy of thy waves ; 
 
 "-^^ But, gazing sunward from the dusty sti-eet 
 Upon tho blue refreshingly cool sheen — 
 Goodly beyond all language ! unaware, 
 Thy glory threw the Muses off their guard. 
 And, as a noise among the Island willow 
 By zephyr moved to unobtrusive song, 
 Arose their gratulations that thy floor 
 Of frost has been removed by flashing Hoods, 
 For flowers, and summer's goi-geous o-arnaturc 
 Many may deem thy luminous strange t>-racc 
 Too local to be lovely, but yon Bay 
 Bears emblems of our nature, calm or stoi-m ; 
 Our coldness often cruel, light and shade. 
 Or spirits pain u.s, and our flesh has pangs ; 
 These thou canst cradle back to quietude; 
 Their hot brows with soft breezes ; strenath of >ouI 
 Comes" oft with strength of nature, and pure tliought : 
 And these 'tis thine to nurture ; a great boon, 
 Which man, unused to yieldinu' u'ratitude, 
 Is slow to recognize : but the unwell, 
 The infant pale and poor, arul far too thin 
 To ache its mother's arm, but not her heart. 
 Receive thy benison, while laughingly 
 Thou dandl'st both the mother and her bal)e. 
 Mother thou art unto this moral city ; 
 And to the island Hanlan famous made 
 Hanlan ! the comet of an aqueous world. 
 
ssaai 
 
 276 
 
 TO MISS WISH ART, 
 
 
 Were numerous shekels mine that isle were mine ; 
 Whereon should rise larw mansions for the sick. 
 Tiie hurt in health and spii-it ; and for hire 
 Wise doctors would explain hygienic law, 
 Till flesh marred soul thro' i^rnorance no more. 
 And others learned divinely to unfohl 
 Tho.se rules which thou dost teaeli in thv dumb wav, 
 Rebukintr us with beautv nit>ht and dav. 
 
 ^i^'M 
 
 U 0> I 
 
 Zo flDi60 Micibart 
 
 m 
 
 ,/OU brino- to mind a beam of liMit 
 In a clear pool ; it ])ictures ther*' 
 Shells of rich hues, and pebbles bright, 
 
 In nio.ss, like gems in waving hair ; 
 And i-oses flushed with crimson shade 
 
 Of floatino- clouds in earlv air ; 
 All mirrored from above, and made, 
 
 As 3'ou have made tliem yet more fair, 
 By inspiration's mystic dower — 
 
 The grace that genius only knows, 
 Which from yourself, or pc cil, glows. 
 
 For beauty is a sacred power, 
 And for a sacred purj)ose flows 
 
 Pure from beneath the jasper throne ; 
 Even as lio-ht on earth bestows 
 
 A glory otherwi.se unkno\\ n ; 
 Therefore to art and song is given, 
 Even while here, a gleam of heaven. 
 
A HYMN. 
 
 277 
 
 a Ib^mn. 
 
 (I''0R MOTllKR.) 
 
 [T is well that nothing worthy 
 
 Of ourselves liave we to o-ive • 
 But when contrite to prefer Thee 
 Then and only then, we live. 
 
 Therefore wert thou dealing kindly 
 When we thought th}^ rod severe : 
 
 Pardon us for murmuring blindly 
 In the cloud whei-e thou wert near 
 
 On sin's dreadful ocean drifted, 
 
 All the waters overcast, 
 Then the soul with eyes uplifted, 
 
 Seeks its safety from the blast. 
 
 So benignly wert thou dealing 
 All those years of strife and pain, 
 
 Turning trouble into healino", 
 Human loss to sacred ^ain. 
 
 Peaceful light of holy living 
 Lead us heavenward alway : 
 
 For thy guiding, and forgiving, 
 More we owe than earth can pa v. 
 
 Yet the gold and all the cattle, 
 On a thousand hills, are thine : 
 
 Turn, O turn the tide of battle 
 Into victory divine. 
 
278 
 
 IIEAVYSEGE — A GUILDS ANSWER. 
 
 Ibeav^ecQe. 
 
 ^7 
 
 ,^^^,ZELL done, my brother; strong tho' storms assail ; 
 
 So chansoned Heavysege, whose scant renown 
 Had been, ere death, rewarded with a crown, 
 Had be but cheered the hounds of party trail. 
 Thank God his mighty mind was not for sale ! 
 
 But like a legacy of light shines down 
 From heaven in spite of want's material thrall, 
 
 Familiar with two world's, and the most High. 
 
 He is not dead —groat spirits cannot die ! 
 He lives with Sh'akespeare, Milton, Burns, and all 
 Shekinah-agencies which from the sky 
 
 Still guide to good ; tho' circumscribed, still brave ! 
 Another instance where great genius gave 
 Glory to earth which thanked him with a grave. 
 
 ill 
 
 H 
 
 ( H 
 
 '&iy- 
 
 
 "It' 
 
 m 
 
 111 
 
 km 
 
 t CHILD when asked what stars were for, 
 X. y^ Said, looking up the blue, 
 " They 're holes they poke in Heaven's floor 
 
 To let the glory through." 
 ye who measure mighty space. 
 
 You fail to feel, and I, 
 The faith that thrilled that infant face 
 
 Turned up to God's great sky. 
 Unblest we search with purpose set. 
 
 Thro' science, fate and lore. 
 And in our questioning forget 
 What heaven itself is for. 
 
"bitterness." 
 
 •J 7 9 
 
 From the prose of Earl Beaconsfield's "The Young Duke," as quote.l t,^ 
 G. M. Barton, of Duudas, in liis admirable essay on Disraeli 
 
 t|^EN weep but once and then theii- tears 
 -'^--Are blood, the bitterness of years. 
 Bitter to leave our father's liorne 
 In alien lands alone to roam, 
 Or, after years in some far land, 
 By gambling hope's unhappy band 
 Returned, to feel the nameless dre^j 
 Foreboding change, or choice ones dead. 
 Bitter is debt but bitter still— 
 O incommunicable ill ! 
 To be neglected by the good, 
 Or by beloved ones misconstrued. 
 Bitter is age without respect. 
 The eastwind of a child's neglect. 
 Bitter to thiuk on wasted vears 
 Of faults augmenting future fears, 
 Bitter as death is die untruth 
 Of one we idolized in youth. 
 But the unmitigated gall 
 That more embittering is than all 
 The Mai-a depths despair can show, 
 Is hers who weds a drunkard's woe. 
 A hopeless life, delight delayed ; 
 Ambition crushed, belief betrayed, 
 O bitterness beyond compare, 
 The secret woe which none can share. 
 Intense as passion fieicely tried, 
 Deprived of all that sanctified. 
 
 i:l 
 
280 
 
 TECUMSEII. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 Then first she feels the nothini^ness 
 Of self, and all that was or is ; 
 Then woe could weep on any breast 
 Since faith is shaken in the best ; 
 Then first love's fond delusions die, 
 And every hope a proven lie 
 That smiles deceitful o'er distress, 
 As wormwood blooms in bitterness. 
 A dieary feeling, cruel, cold, 
 When youth, in all but years, is old, 
 While taunting doubts, a dismal crew, 
 Cry : who is constant, what is true, 
 Among tlie shapes that move away 
 Into the realms of yesteixlay ? 
 
 lEecum^cb, 
 
 (10 MR. CHARLES MAIK, AUTIIOR OF " TECLMSKll," A lUiA.MA). 
 
 ^gjVLL who take hold on immortality, 
 
 ^^ Hail thee ; the souls of red men hail thy song, 
 
 And from the wilds where he has waited long 
 
 Tecumseh comes again to take command 
 
 Of thy great diama ; lo ! is it not grand ? 
 
 " Brimful of legends of this early world." 
 
 Weird people from dim wastes and canyons cry 
 
 Hail, shade of him who did our foe defy ! 
 
 For, like thy song, his fame shall never die, 
 
 Who to thy martial music hast unfurled 
 
 The flag 'neath which we flourish, therefore he 
 
 Napoleon of this hemisphere shall be ! 
 It is my boast and glory to declare 
 
 His native blood is mine, my countryman is Mair ! 
 
THE WORKIXGAIAN S HAND. 
 
 281 
 
 Zbc MoiiunomaiVs Ibanb, 
 
 (TO THOMAS HAIN, M.I'.P.) 
 
 , „^I^^T partings and clianges 'tis pleasant to timl 
 t^Those friends we most value all constant and kind. 
 0, sweet the reception that beauty can give 
 With the soul-thi-illing pressure that bids us to live, 
 But the noblest reception that Nature has planned 
 Is the warm-hearted grasp of an honest man's hand. 
 
 There is beauty in light, as a rainbow can piove, . 
 There is pathos in pleasure and sorrow in love, 
 There is valor in peace and there's wisdom in years, 
 There is power in joy and a magic in tears ; 
 But there's greatness in toil, that too few understand, 
 With the warm-hearted grasp of a workingman's hand. 
 
 How piteous that those who do labor's least .share 
 
 Are preferred by earth's fools and caressed by the fair ; 
 
 Yea, and life after life is to vanity wrecked, 
 
 That reason would save if allowed to reflect, 
 
 For the holiest alliance by love ever found 
 
 Is the warm-hearted grasp of the workingman's hand. 
 
\i\ 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 
 From yellow fields the daylight fails 
 And grapes are full of yellow air ; 
 
 And flocks and Sf^uirrels foreboding gales, 
 By flight, or hoarded fruit, pi'epare ; 
 
 Sinoe in the past we cannot dwell, 
 'Tis time we also say farewell. 
 
 With keen regret we quit the realm 
 Whei'e dreamy fancy loved to roam, 
 
 The scenes that fate may overwhelm 
 As frost deprives the vines of bloom 
 
 Which in this rural vale we view ; 
 Adieu, old liome, dear scenes adieu. 
 
OPINIONS OF TMK PUHSS. 
 
 \1S3 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS OX THE AUTHOR'S 
 FOR MER P IJ13 Lie ATIONS. 
 
 In perusing the voliuno I have found niucli tine tliouglit 
 and feeling. 1 most adnjire the "Haunted House," "Foi-e- 
 warnings,'' the tirst live verses of ''Octoljer'" and tlie "Old Pine 
 Canoe." The "Haunted House" contains some charming l)its 
 of description, so full of truth, and abounding in powerful 
 yet delicate touches that it is hard to believe tiu?y liii\e not 
 been drawn from the life. The poem breathes forth sad 
 reminiscences of the past, and in it the gaunt Hgurt; of de- 
 cay is draped so gracefully in the robes of poetic fancy, that 
 the House becomes more interesting in its pathetic desei-- 
 tion, when " the dancers are dis])ersed, the nuisic ended," 
 than ever it was in the days of its gay hospitalities. 
 Forewarnings has something solemn and spectral al)out 
 it, and the reader seems to catch a glimpse of coming evils 
 behind the half undrawn veil that covers human destiny. 
 They " cast their shadows befoi-e " them, and therein "pall " 
 the soul as well as r//>pall it. The greater part of the poem 
 "October" is correctly pictures(iue. The scenes retlects itself 
 in the soul of the reader as the shores of a lake are rellected 
 in its own waters. The "Old Pine Canoe" is one of the most 
 beautiful and linished poems in the volume. It is almost 
 as sad as Campbell's Exile of Erin, and, in some parts, as 
 mi sical. The execution of the "Haunted House "is so good 
 in portions, and the general conception sotrutliful and com- 
 plete, that I regret to see it so slovenly in many places, 
 and encumbered with redundant verses. It is as a diamond 
 that has been cast up carelessly Ijy the spade of the miner, 
 and awaits to be carefully and skillfully cut into the due 
 facets and polished by the hand of the lapidary.* 
 
 » 
 
 ; Charles Heavysege in TI>e Spectator. 
 
 ■M 
 
 * The redundancy to wliicf' Mr. Hoavysege referred, has been removed as far 
 as it is in the power of the humble writer of these pages to approach the high c in- 
 ceptions of the author of "Saul." 
 
•28-t 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PUKH.S. 
 
 T snatch tlu! first loisuro niompiit tf) I'cturu my siiiccic 
 thanks for this chafmini;' litth> vohuiic tii(> "Canadian 
 Lyre," and the pk^asui'c which it has aUoi'ch'd nic, tho" as 
 an okl votary of tho Lyre I advise, that to make poetiy, in this 
 matter-of-fact country, is the recreation, not the business of 
 life. There are few who can admire, or even compreliend 
 it : to whom the dixine elixir would pi-ove a stupid taste- 
 less draught, not to be compared to a liorii of adulterated 
 whiskey, Youi- book may take its stand upon the same 
 shelf with McQueen, McLaclilan and Sangster (men of un- 
 doubted genius who have done much to enricli the litera- 
 ture of this counti'y) and lose nothing by the comparison. 
 
 I must confess my preference for shoi t bursts of song 
 over longer poems. 'I'hey touch the ati'ections nearest, and 
 lingei" longer in the memory. 1 cannot recall one line from 
 Thompson's Seasons, while Gray's magniticent Lyrics "■ Fill 
 with l)right forms the mystic halls of thought.'' The 
 poetical bairns that most please my fancy in this volume 
 are,"'TheSpi)niingWheel," '"Tis better not to know,"' 'vl took 
 thy hand of b(uiuty, " "Don't despise the poor man's pleasure," 
 " Midst changes and pai'tings," and the lines to the two 
 autumnal months. Many beautiful passages occur in the 
 longer poems which I. have not time to enumerate, but to 
 which 1 nuiy revert on some future occasion. 
 
 Susanna Moodie. 
 
 " The Canadian Lyre " is the title of a small \ olume of 
 poems l)y Mr. Ramsay, a Provincial Bard of great powers 
 and promise. This neat volume contains many pieces of 
 great merit and beauty, and furnishes ample evidence that 
 the author possesses powers of song, whicli under due cul- 
 ture, will produce for him a high place among the early 
 poets of our rising country, and earn for him a name not 
 soon to die. In style, simple and chaste ; in versitication, 
 smooth and musical ; in imagery, natural and national ; in 
 sentiment, pure and elevating ; these poems cannot fail at 
 once to please and profit. We gratefully accept them as 
 an earnest of something still nobler to follow — and cordial- 
 ly connnend them to all true loxers of poetry, and patriotic 
 patrons of a Canadian literature. 
 
 W. Okmistox, D. !.). 
 
OPINIONS OF Tin: I'KKSS. 
 
 IS 5 
 
 It is a happy tliin«,' for Canada tliat wo have youii«< nitn 
 among iis who devote this liigh(!st of mental gifts, pocf rv. 
 to the service of their country ; foi" it is sei'ving, by t(>ach- 
 ing us to love liej', her jx'ople and sc(Miery, as iinu-h as if 
 in arms on her Ijehalf. Mr-, llamsay is not afraid to see 
 poetry in a Canadian landscape', and we honor him for it ; 
 as witness "The Spiiniing Wheel": 
 
 " There ia the vale, the elm-tree, and the oak 
 All leaf-crowned still I 
 The old lo^ barn ; oh, it was here awoke 
 My hcarfs Hrat thrill." 
 
 This nuise sometimes I'ises to a height of eloipience which 
 the novice may not hope to attain. The following of Hope 
 as a seraph : 
 
 " To his own happy occupation singing 
 
 The song begun in heaven before he left 
 The host of holy worshipers, outwinging 
 The veiy beams of gladness." 
 
 And again of a scene whei'e — 
 
 "The sacred super-human hues 
 Adoined each dim declivity. 
 And shaped the intermingling views 
 As fair as Eden's landscapes 1)e.' 
 
 Rev. W. W. 8mitii in Owen Sound '2'i>nes. 
 
 ,1 have read your volume Otie Quid Duj/, with much in- 
 terest and pleasure, and with your permission should like 
 to insert one or two of the poems in the volume of " Poems 
 of Places " devoted to Canada. 
 
 With much regard, 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
 There is a Itreathing of the fragi-ant meadow in his vei-se 
 which is quite refreshing to the literary palates of sundjaked . 
 city readers. - 
 
 New Orleans Delta. 
 
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 9 
 
286 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 "I shall Not Tell." A. Ramsay, author of "Wi-iioii-ah,' 
 "One Quiet Day," etc , Brooklyn. The verses in this volume 
 are not pretentious, and their author is, perhaps, too modest 
 in his presentation of them to the public. They come with- 
 out the imprint of a great publishing house, and are herald- 
 ed with no trumpets. The opening poem begins thus : 
 
 " I shall not tell tliee why the land 
 With so much glory glows ; 
 There is but one in all the world 
 My sacred secret knows." 
 
 The best of the poems are those of the Wordsworthian 
 style, which savor of woodland dales, the lights and shades 
 that add to the beauty of the river, and the deep solitude 
 of the woods where, doubtless, our poet gained his inspira- 
 tion and steeped his senses in the odor of flowers, the music 
 of birds, and cultivated that imaginative power that speaks 
 in all he has written in these pages. The most beautiful 
 of the number is the "Old Pine Canoe," which is a sad musi- 
 cal refrain worthy of reproduction. The poem entitled 
 "Atkinson's Mill " is like it in sentiment; both discover the 
 regret and loveliness of the poet's heart, as will be seen in 
 the last stanza, the only one space will admit of quoting : 
 
 ' ' No more will the big wheel revolve with a clatter, 
 
 No more the bolts turn with a turbulent clank, 
 As down the dim flume rolls the wonderful water 
 
 To burst forth in foam by the green covered bank. 
 The blue flag has gone from the shoreway we cherish, 
 
 The song of the grey-bird in autumn is still, 
 Yet memory kindles the blossoms that perish 
 
 Like hope that was happy by Atkinson's Mill." 
 
 Mr. Ramsay, as will be seen by these extracts from his 
 book, gives promise of better work than he has done, and 
 evidently is a writer who will not cease from aspiring, or 
 be satisfied to hush his muse at this point. His fancy is 
 refined, his ear delicate, and in his life-experiences he must 
 have stowed away much material for future use. He has 
 only to follow his inspiration, which is in the direction of 
 nature, to be a widely recognised writer in the field he has 
 chosen, and in which he has done good work already. 
 
 Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
OPINIONS OF THR PRESS. 
 
 287 
 
 " Jephtha's Daughter'' is a tine, rich, stately piece of still-life 
 painting. " To Louise ' is a fragment of linipidly flawless 
 song, and wholly delighted me ; "Atkinson's Mill," a sweet 
 and charming poem, tender, faithful, and redolent of pas- 
 toral perfume. The stanzas to "A Comet" are, it is true, 
 uneven in merit, but the last three are splendidly lyrical. 
 "Every spangle a dawn, flaming onward and on; The 
 universe vast to suffuse " — that is glorious, the whole verse 
 very high. " They shall smile like a sunrise at sea " etc., is 
 ex<(uisite. In another line the verses to D. and D. are 
 most racy and cutting ; the true lilt. 
 
 CiiAS G. D. RoBEiiTS, of The Week. 
 
 " There's many a line of thine which seems 
 Like a smiling after troubled dreams, 
 Before the dreamer can forget 
 Visions that made his pillow wet." 
 
 — Hamilton TlmcH, 
 
 " Memory is true. I catch th3 music of the llamsay 
 stanza, I am wandering in woodland dells anion;; flowers 
 and sunlight ; shadows of the deeper solitudes ; thoughts 
 by turns lighten and darken ; beauty anfl fragrance, making 
 a mistake, inducing delusions that I am the poet — I feel I 
 am roaming on the banks of a little river, the waters in 
 their music inviting me to be companion ; to glide along, 
 run along, leap along, at foot of the ravine, over the lynn, 
 and meet the poet thoughtful and solitary ; the teiidor in 
 sentiment, fervent worshiper of nature's truth and beauty 
 — the poet Ramsay. 
 
 "From which recollections revived, 1 desire the inference 
 to be accepted, if you choose, that this aspiring sou of 
 thought is still unsatisfled with what he has attained to, as 
 the self -impelled must be, and that his flight will yet be 
 higher on wider flelds. In token of esteem, please add, as 
 a purchasing subscriber, the name of Alexander ^omerville 
 — " The Whistler at the Plough. ' ''—lUndmted London 
 News. 
 
288 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 In connection with the volume of poems, to be known as 
 " Muriel," now in press, from the pen of Mr. Andrew Rar.i- 
 say, the well-known contributor to these pages, may be 
 mentioned the verses " Oramel," which will be found else- 
 where in this number. Mr. Ramsay, let us say once for 
 all, is a true singer, for his songs come from his heart and 
 not from his lips. Those who turn to " Oramel " will find 
 a singing that has depth and delicacy, and the true insight ; 
 and they will agree in saying of Mr. Ramsay, as Milton 
 did of the Immortal one of Avon, that he is " fancy's child," 
 and in the truest way of the poet " warbles his natiVe 
 wood-notes wild." Mr. Ramsay's work reveals a sympa- 
 thetic insight into external nature ; and the poetic chords 
 within the man are set vibrating by the glimpse of a flower 
 in the meadow, the dye in an autunin leaf, or the flush of a 
 summer sunset. We make large predictions for the book 
 " Muriel " which Mr. Ramsay promises the public. 
 
 Edmund Collins, Toronto Truth. 
 
 It is very evidently a great matter, and one; that does not 
 occur often, to meet with a fresh voice in English poetry, 
 however that voice may at times sound husky. Mr. Ram- 
 say seems to have more originality than Mr. Frechette, for 
 instance, the new French Canadian poet, who has had so 
 much praetiije of late in France. — Neiv York Sun. 
 
Dedication 
 
 Preface 
 
 Preamble 
 
 Muriel 
 
 The Haunted House 
 
 Niagara Falls . . 
 
 Lundy's Lane 
 
 iStoney Creek . , 
 
 Canada 
 
 To a Reverend Friend 
 
 Manitoba 
 
 Manitoba Greeting 
 
 A Thousand Isles 
 
 Transfiguration 
 
 A City by the Sea 
 
 Aldebaran 
 
 To the Moon 
 
 The Comet 
 
 Better Not to Know • 
 
 One Hundred Years from 
 
 The Shell . . 
 
 Italia 
 
 Now 
 
 PACKS 
 
 
 5 
 
 4 
 
 to 12 
 
 l.'i 
 
 " 17 
 
 2;^ 
 
 " 48 
 
 49 
 
 " (54 
 
 ()-) 
 
 " 71 
 
 72 
 
 " 74 
 
 7') 
 
 " 77 
 
 7s 
 
 " SO 
 
 
 81 
 
 82 " 84 
 
 8o " 87 
 
 88 " 9] 
 
 92 " 93 
 
 94 " 
 
 97 
 
 
 98 
 
 99 " 
 
 100 
 
 101 " 
 
 105 * 
 
 106 " 
 
 108 
 
 109 '• 
 
 113 
 
 114 " 
 
 122 
 
 123 " 
 
 125 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Old Pine Canoe 
 
 Atkinson's Mill . . 
 
 Webster's Falls 
 
 White Lilies 
 
 I Will not Tell 
 
 A Blue Bird 
 
 The Glade 
 
 Milking Time . . 
 
 Time Was 
 
 A Sigh .. 
 
 Husking Bees 
 
 October 
 
 November 
 
 The Little Frame House 
 
 The Old Number Four Plow , 
 
 A Midnight Reverie 
 
 The Bridge .... 
 
 To One Whom I Offended 
 
 Tq a Beautiful Stranger 
 
 Snow Birds in the Sugar-Bush 
 
 A Wintry Brook by Moonlight 
 
 Song 
 
 A Sunlit Rain 
 
 Stanzas 
 
 To the Grand River Paris . . 
 
 To the Same 
 
 A Broken Nest 
 
 October Woods 
 
 To a Friend 
 
 My Schoolmate 
 
 Joe 
 
 I'AUKS 
 
 127 to 128 c 
 129 , 
 130 
 131 
 132 
 133 
 134 " 136 
 137 " 138 
 139 
 140 
 141 
 
 142 ' 
 
 143 ' 
 144 
 
 145 " 146 
 
 147 " 148 
 
 149 " 150 
 
 151 
 
 152 
 
 153 
 
 154 
 
 155 
 
 156 " 157 
 
 158 " 159 
 
 160 " 161 
 
 162 
 
 163 " 164 
 
 165 " 167 
 
 168 " 169 
 
 170 
 
 171 
 
CONTF PS. 
 
 Dead Beat's Hymn 
 
 Bouquet 
 
 Josie 
 
 The Spiuning Wheel 
 Old Stephen 
 Lines to a Lady 
 The Bathing Star 
 Wedding Cake 
 To the Hudson 
 A Dewdrop 
 Fall Birds 
 To a Fancy Picture 
 In Memory of Anna C. 
 
 J7 
 
 PAOKS 
 
 172 to 173 
 174 
 175 
 176 
 " 178 
 179 
 180 
 ISI 
 192 
 193 
 ' 185 
 186 
 187 
 
 184 
 
 ^' 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEIJIS, 
 
 Skating and Rowing 
 Vale, Vale, Salve Eteruum 
 Swinburne 
 
 • • • « 
 
 Longfellow 
 
 Agnosticism 
 
 Epitaph 
 
 Conventionality in Church 
 
 Bon't Despise 
 
 Hamilton Cemetery 
 Destiny— Blame Not 
 To a Poet who Taught Evil 
 Jephtha's Daughter 
 Napoleon Third 
 
 I'AOKS 
 
 189 to 191 
 192 " 194 
 105 "196 
 197 
 198 " 199 
 199 
 200 " 201 
 202 " 203 
 204 " 205 
 206 
 207 
 208 • 
 209 " 210 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PAOKH 
 
 Shelley 
 
 . 211 to 212 
 
 Burns , , 
 
 213 •• 214 
 
 Th? Brook 
 
 . . 215 " 219 
 
 Yeoanna . . . , , . 
 
 220 " 222 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh .. 
 
 .. 223 " 225 
 
 A Fragment . . 
 
 226 
 
 What For 
 
 227 
 
 To thy Photograph . . 
 
 228 
 
 Spirit of Wine . . * 
 
 229 
 
 Chatterton 
 
 230 " 231 
 
 Lines on a Reviev/er 
 
 232 
 
 Brutality Triumphant 
 
 233 " 234 
 
 From Carlyle and Emerson 
 
 ^ 235 
 
 Forewarnings 
 
 .236 
 
 Culture . . . . , . 
 
 237 
 
 Habakkuk 
 
 238 
 
 Chaos 
 
 239 " 266 
 
 Sv/ine 
 
 267 " 272 
 
 Found 
 
 273 
 
 A Medallion of Lena B. . , 
 
 274 
 
 Toronto Bay 
 
 275 
 
 To Miss Wishart 
 
 276 
 
 A Hymn 
 
 277 
 
 Heavysege— A Child's Answer 
 
 278 
 
 "Bitterness" 
 
 279 
 
 Tecumseh 
 
 .. " 280 
 
 The Workingman's Hand 
 
 281 
 
 Opinions of the Press 
 
 283 " 288 
 
IKH 
 
 o212 
 ' 214 
 ' 219 
 
 • 222 
 ' 225 
 
 226 
 227 
 228 
 229 
 
 ' 231 
 232 
 
 ' 234 
 235 
 236 
 237 
 238 
 
 ' 266 
 
 ' 272 
 273 
 274 
 275 
 276 
 277 
 278 
 279 
 280 
 281 
 
 • 288