Remnants & Palette Scrapi|igs Keinnants Imprefsio7is Pallette Scrapmgs CHARLES WILLIAM MAC CORD BRIDGEPORT, CONNECTICUT. MDCCCLXXXVII .«sri GIFT BERTRAM SMITH DEC 8 1933 " Veriini Nihil securius est maio pacta.'' L h ::. O I R. Gray bosomed mists obscure the sea, A dismal fog o'erhangs brown woods ; Oh, Nature in thy solitudes We fain would lose our souls in thee ! Thine ample arm embraceth men, Peasant and prince are turned again To worm-gnawed leaflets on Life's tree. The blood-red sun shines on the beach, On mossy rocks the curlews cry ; Blue distant hills in mystery Stand fi-rm alone : their silent speech Would win from man his feeble heart ; Though shielded fast by every art A storm-swept hillock waits us each ! MA Y D E W. I. Across the moor, all pale and passionless, ' Save where wan night's last shim 'ring tears despair To catch the rosy robust morn's sweet air. In vap'rous wreaths they freely find access To grewsome clouds that bank the desertness Of green blue sky in clusters, leaving bare Their tinctured edges for the dawn's white glare, 'Tis then the wand'rer vainly would express His theme of Love the conq'ror over Death ; When glist'ning red the day leaves at sun's set Who doth not build himself an house of wo ? The morrow's morn discerns it not beneath ; Oh, sweetest Hebe may thine magic yet Rebuild our manse of joy before we go ! 11. Where on the mead the warm rich shadows lay Begemm'd by drops — pearls by an angel wept — The clouds that wrapped the day-god while he slept Are thrust aside by thy fair hands, O May, And lighted by thine only lamp of truth The gray green woods rekindle Oaring youth, The redd ning buds portend the flowers to be ; So when the irksome ire of destiny, Fame, that the spirit loathing turns to ruth, Joy, and the souls that only meet to part, Ah, could the spring tide of the saddened heart Unto thy bosom all its sorrows bring. Then would the clouds of weariness depart And Scirum-like, 'gainst stars our arrows wino- ! III. Now gay and golden see the rising sun ! Both field and flood are streaked with russet red ; Yon brookside willows, swathed in robes of dun, Blithe green and garish raise their crested head. No more on zenith burns Athene's white, But vermil tinted are the morn's fair cheeks, The rainbow cobwebs sparkling with delight Receive the incense which the blossom reeks. Ail things are gladsome — yet ye little know Of Nature's depths, nor can the myst'ry sound From whence ye came and whither ye will go. The shining dewdrop smiling on the ground, Each globe reflects a perfect sun most rare, V'ain man ! thy puny mind with this compare ! lO MORNING. Morn's sky is fresh toned like a sea shell With green and with red and with blue. The convict now hears in his grim cell The hammers their death sounds renew 1 1 S A MP M O R TA R ROCK. AN IMPRESSION. Gray silver clouds in azure sk)^ Their shadows cast o'er hill and vale, Far in brown woods like phantoms pale Wan tree-trunks pierce blue mystery ; These paths were once the red man's haunts, A refuge from the foeman's taunts. Here met they 'neath their council tree. What sturdy braves once trod these hills Ere Sorrow climbed yon purple rocks ! Their homxcs now shield the tawny fox : Where vi'let light the dead leaf chills, Their women crushed rich yellow maize On yonder height, where oft Vv'-e gaze O'er storm-swept tree tops whose harp stills 12 The brooklet's murmur and yon throng Of insect-worlds 'neath shapely beech ; Cool gray-green fern their lesson teach, The throstle trills his matin song, While waxen buds their incense give. And see, the fallen birch twigs heave, — A slimy adder glides along ! 13 SPRING. The dull plow turns the rich brown earth, White blossoms laugh aloud with mirth, The dandelion's golden sun Hangs o'er a grave just new begun. ./ ,\^ O C TO B li R DA y . Rich rustling reds and russets of old oak Commingling with warm ochre colored leaves Warm masses m.ake, through which blue sky inweaves, While o'er the dome, shaped like a giant's cloak Gray solemn clouds the gladsome sun invoke. On hillside backed by mysteries of shade Wan willows bend e'en as their glories fade ; 'Cross tangled brake which strives the brook to choke Long shadovv's stretch upon the dusty road. With olive tints the yellow mead is strowed And melancholy sweeps the sobbing wind Through forest depths whose hectic flushes bode Grim Winter's reign — e'en like rich gold re- fined To deck the neck of Beauty, cold, unkind ! SUNSET IMPRESSIONS. The wa,y to heav'n doth lead through hell, The road of life leads on to death, E'en brightest flowers have noxious breath ; Thus mused I while the passing bell Discordant struck the fragrant air At eventide, one summer fair Stretched prone upon bright verdant fell. The yellow sun sinks down the west His lances bright against the sky As joysome home brown sparrows fly: Old willows gray see lovers test Each other's troth with falsehood's fears ; Then mused I : — Through our path of years To summon woe be Hym_en's guest. i6 SUNSET ON THE SOUND. A circling cliff with stubborn grass engrown Shades shingly beach, where rolling wavelets smite The flotsam's amber gems. 'Yond tinted height, O'er which white gulls for ages past have flown The salty breeze enwraps the day-star's throne, E'en like a wheel whose hub of topaz bright Hath clouds for spokes of brilliant fiery tone : Bright scarlet patches vainly strive to ease The sinking orb, which burns in discontent And opal tints the vast unquiet sea. Gray phantom shapes in distance seek that peace Which Nature kind, the Giver opulent Vouchsafes to all v\'ho mark her stern decree. 17 A T THE PANTOMIME. Fair Columbine now twinkles on the stage ; Loud ring the plaudits from the hoary sage ! The fopling's face is one sarcastic grin ; The clown's child dies, the painted scenes within. t8 SUGGESTED BY A PAINTING OE CO ROT'S. Soft silver tones now tint the gray green grass With faery tinctures, like to fire on snow. High on the zenith mellow cloud forms blow ; Their shadows warm enrich the bleak morass Through which the Master oftentimes would pass To limn betimes the faint yet brilliant glow Of morning light, behind yon rustling mass Of shaking willows, where the peasants go To gather fagots when all Nature's still. Across the mere kingfishers wing their flight, Then all is hush'd : Dawn grows apace until There sounds beyond those hills of bluish light Th' Angelus, bell in monody so clear That from mine eyes I brush the stranger tear And in my heart I whisper, " Hope is here." 19 / N E PE N THE. 'Yond leafless bou";hs the sun sinks down the west, His last heart pang throbs on the icy air ; /^ Ah, troublous are the burdens that we bear / In wintry paths^ through which we toil to rest^ { \ And dream of days when leaden skies were blue^ When hopes were youngs when Love the Master, too. In gilded chains first yoked us to his wain : Now tug and strive we feeble towards the breach Between the shafts list to our feeble speech Ah, could we taste the summer's joys again ! Drink Polydamna's cup — Then all forgot will be earth's feeble hum And dreams no more embitter life's short day, Our brows no more will crave the with'ring bay, For us the sands of time may cease to run — No more will visions of the great To Be Allure us by those sweetest fancies free, Beyond this world when free from pois'nous breath What joys our naked souls shall often prize ! For us this thought, as bow we to sweet Death That visions bright shall come before our eyes, But foretastes dim, as we the angels sight, Of blissful rest beneath our earthy mound. Nirwana sweet, is that our endless fate ? Alas ! and have we aeons yet to wait. And must the weary seasons make their round, And blacker yet grow heavy clouds of night? Bright lurid star that shines o'er life's dark sea Can e'er we lose our helpless selves in thee ? Drink Polydamna's cup. SHE O L. On Greenland's shore they tell me " Hell is cold," In Afric's swamps they tell me *' Hell is hot;" I think as I humanity behold What lukewarm Hells are all this happy lot ! GENIUS. Exalted by the sight of Beauty's sleep My feeble efforts make my fancies pale ; As piercing thro' dark night's bewild'ring gale The sailor sees a light shine on the deep, While subtler still the weird black shadows creep On ocean's face now hidden by night's veil ; But naught doth rouse yon grim sea from its bale. My idols now are tumbled in an heap, And e'en like bards who chant unmurmuring I fain would crave the Muses' opulence. Oh, Aspiration, art thou but the wing That floats diviner Inspiration hence? Despondency, art thou then but a thing Evolved from earth the creature of base sense ? ^3 EA STER MORN. Come rolling on the clouds of night and far On mountain steeps and sheltered vales below The darkness rests. The northern stars arise And rolling o'er the ocean's heaving breast They show their heads of fire through flying mist Of heav'n. In v^^oods just where the running sap Hath made to sprout and bud anew the elm, The regal oak and queenly birch with all Their numerous train, all these are bathed in tints Of silvern crystal from the rising moon. And see, the youthful trees bend down as if They knew the vigil time of the blest day. From the still waters of the wood skirt plain See nov/ ascend gray bosomed mists, and dank Are willow catkins and the vi'lets bud. Wide over lake and stream is poured anew The vapour deep and dark. The moon now like A shield is dimly swimming through its mighty Folds. 24 Nature hushed, save here and there is heard The voice of chanticleer, which Simon heard In ages gone, in far-off Jewry's land. Now from the east at last behold the ruby Light, not before an overpowering white Hath filled the orient. Changed are the sable Clouds to fleece of pearly gray which now rise High on zenith, and the moon, light of The silent night flies from the couriers of Th' lord of day. The clouds rejoice and dye Their folds in amber pure replenished new. And glow like costliest gems, uncut by man But carven by a mighty hand whose skill Artist, or painter, poet, can But feebly strive to catch a single touch, And that the world calls genius. The fresh 'ning green From out the mother earth is touched with Mirrors small of the new risen sun, and see. The faithful, who, the fast now ended, go 25 With joyful mien to chant their carols gay. -)f -X- -JS- * But stretched upon a new made grave astray From joyous songs, clasping a tomb-cross gray A maiden weeps her soul itself away. 26 PRESUMPTION, I place my name on Corot's own design : Philistia doth to Hades it resign ! On mine own work I Corot's name intwine Philistia's glad— "What Harmony divine ! " ^7 IV I IV T E R. The brooklet is sighing and sobbing In the gray and the green of the gloaming ; My heart in its prison Hes throbbing, The wind through the bleak trees is moaning. Ah, dark is the dreary December And brown lie the weeds on the sward, Love kindles my life's dying embers May angels e'er keep it in ward ! 25 THE WILLOW PATTERN A lordly seat With wealth replete ; 'Neath peach-tree sweet A pavilion. A willow tree ; 'Cross bridge we see A cottage free. The scriv'ner's son Importunate Would knov/ his fate, Then 'gan to prate " I love Li Chi " But thee alone" — Just then a groan As o'er his zone The stout rods fly ! Alas ! poor Chang Thy brief harangue By old Chi's gang Would silenced be ; 29 The gods just then, rSuch handy men) Waged two to ten The pair they'd free. Hey, presto, change! And two doves range Above the grange And fly away ! Then willow leaves Their bough bereaves; This tale relieves Like virelay, Such questions soft As ^' Why aloft You hang the croft Of willow pattern?" 30 EVEN. A yellow sunset bathes with gold Rich grassy dells and purpling wold ; The mellow bell sounds vesper hour And false souls tryst in leafy bower! DA WN. When first the infant Day doth ope his eyes And with the past prepare to take his stand, What hidden shapes he sees on every hand As on the porch unwilhng, weak he lies ! Ah, Night, hov/ many be thy mysteries ! As by the sea uncounted is the sand, That kissed by surf doth welcome to the land The vi'let waters reaching bound of skies, Which calml)/ wait with grim expectancy The Sungod's lash to bid his cattle rise : Oh endless shore ! Oh tireless sapphire sea O'er which the fisher's net hath oft been drawn, What hast thou m the new old great To Be, Doth weal or woe receive the saffron Dav/n ? A UTUMN MORNING, The steel blue river ripples on its way And stirring are yon willows gray clad boughs; Their shadows warm the parched-up fell endows With rich pure tints that presage mild decay. On rock-set hills brown hemlocks graceful sway, Beyond old oaks the dappled cattle browze. Far 'yond the road an ochre-coloured house Reflects the glories which from gold clouds stray ; By moss grown mounds we oftentimes would pause And strive to kill our soul's destroying thought ; From chimneys red the pearly sky dome draws A purpure smoke by fairy fingers wrought, (E'en as we gaze the worm undying gnaws) In golden mansions which resolve to naught. Z?> THE LA UREA TE. A bard has been changed to a baron ! A chalice once stood on an altar ; And now — though you see not a scar on Its niello — holds red vinegar. LA N DSC A PR Warm tinted clouds illume the sky Their edges tinged with opal fire ; I stroll through tangled brake and brier And see the distant streamlet vie With em'lous tones the heav'ns to drown, The herbage clad in richest brown In sullen mood is trembling shy. n. Oh, joysome August afternoon I Glad children play in happy glee From carksome care and sorrow free, The homing bee in happy swoon Is sinking on the clover's breast, Ah, do not now her trance molest Nirvana-like I crave such boon ! 35 III. The dun gray cows across the stream With sweet breath scent the heavy air Their shadows note a color rare; Like jewels bright the wild flow'rs gleam Adown the banks so gold-red gay, That scarcely thinking one would stray And happy walk in blissful dream ! * * ^ 36 TO IRELAND. Sweet Innisfail, bright em'rald of the sea The night descends in sorrow on thy shore The morn returns grief-laden for thee more As Morven's daughters wept Cormac for thee ! Oh, holy isle of Columb*s sainted towers, Prime home of learning and religion's school, Why rest supinely by the turbid pool ? Where are the stars that shone bright through the hours When to thy feet barbarian nations came To taste of wisdom, culture and of art ? Are thy bards hush'd ? Can Tara's harp depart ? Left to thyself thou never hadst known shame ; Arise, ye Erse ! scour up Borurnha's brand ! Strike for your homes, your blood-bought fatherland ! But A¥ho are these like bounding roes that come While Doira's hill reflects a yellow sun ? Like valley oaks their stature scarce begun As falling water is their mighty hum ! Thy race untrodden by the Saxon's heel Will once again, unstretching suppliant palms Give to the world her grateful kindly alms ; Democracy ! thou name that tyrants' steel Can ne'er blot out when painted on the heart, With mighty tread thy hosts stride on in file Of freemen brave who all have drank erewhile From waters pure unsullied by the mart. The people rise on every side at length E'en as pure gold returns to fire its strength. -X- -Jf 3^ IN A CONVENT. Deep shadows fall dark from the pine, The sisters chant sweet 'round the shrine, A priest doth bless the kneeling throng, But still my soul cries out " How long?" MIDNIGHT, Ensanguined clouds with ruddy glare, Warm green blue sky streaks peep afar, Through purple masses gleams a star, While o'er the russet Avaters flare Bright red gold lines whose shimm.ers jar The mellow damps on washed up spar Which strew the shingle wan and bare : Tall slender grasses rank and crude Just 'yond the sea-line by the dune, Sway to and fro in mystic tune. There joysome lovers fain exclude The world and all its cares jejune To blissful moments importune, While new toss'd hay ricks scents exude. Oh, voiceless dread and mystery What is that far-off hidden sound ? The waves m.ay moan like weary hound. 40 Yet to thy bosom, grim old sea, You bring the secrets of that mound .Although a thousand black wrecks frown'd, They pledge each other constancy ! I^ow rising gold the harvest moon Entinctures sea line argent pure In glories which white sails immure, As lips are touch'd in night's still noon Two souls in Love's embrace secure, Now all ye shining heav'ns conjure Your hosts to grant their long'd for boon ! 41 NINON. Gray eyes with dreamings dolorous Of gay things garnered like gold grain, Sweet lips perverted cajol'd pain Soft voice with tears turned tremulous — Thou'rt but a tyrant treacherous Who doth with crownings cruel curse ! I'll ne'er my pois'ning passion nurse To rend on rack so ravenous ! SYMPHONY IN WHITE, No. /. Her alabaster hands with tips like dew Which rustles o'er a pallid lily's cheek, On iv'ry keys the subtle harm'nies seek, Now sweet and low, now flashing into view, E'en as lost stars the marble dawns inflame With gold white shafts that wing far down the south. Like orient pearls her teeth illume a mouth Pomegranate toned — anchoret's risk defame Such fruit to taste, though brings it bitterness. Quest bound for Grail, the Knight of pious lance Would fain on snowy couches spend in trance Ignoble days, sweet pris'ner in distress. Rise up, my soul ' Bepluck once more thy brand,. Nieht is her heart the' aroent be her hand. * * * 43 SYMPHONY IN WHITE, No, 2. On chalken cliffs beswept by salt breeze rude, (White crested waves far 'neath in chanting swell Roll on white sands : the sea gulls snowy brood Cry o'er white sheep that rest on daisied fell,) 'Yond bloss'ming hill the white haired sisters dwell, Pale hawthorn flow'rs bloom o'er their life's un- rest ; 'Tis compline hour: the sweet voiced convent bell To prayer invites the women ail white dress'd. The gray white tower is viewed far out at sea From galleys white by seamen making sail ; The bell they hear through blanching mist ; the knee Is bent on shore, — guilt's load is burthensome: The trav'ler, tempest toss'd, begins to pale As 'bove the'sands white spectres beckon dumb ! 44 A PICTURE. Rich rainbow glass, rare tropic fruits from far, White samite cloth, red wine in silvern jar, A loving pair in dalliance take their ease — Behind the arras scorned eyes glare on these ! * 45 O U T R E M E R. I. The edges of gray angry clouds beguile O'er storm swept ocean, mar'ners prone to dream Of scenes in port, where bask they full in smile Of deep dark eyes whose shining glances beam E'en as the sun, gold red at close of day Treading again his gloried path of years Transfigures sky and sea with precious ray ; And thou, Athene, dost in spite of tears From holy eyes of virgins pure now flown, (Ah, whither, still we crave and cry in vain) Doth gild dark truths with lights of sweetest tone Reflected from the flames that burn again, Th' modern Inquisition fires that gleam Like staves of brass adown the fath'mless stream. 46 11. Poor shipwrecked soul, would'st strive with dulcet strains From pipes of Pan to sooth thy murmuring ? See from Hope's raft the wretched voy'ger spring And sink in brine blue caverns for his pains : For him no light, his life no sacrament. From darksome times when infant worlds began And Chaos rolled aside the door for man, Drifting upon a shoreless sea, all rent Fair sails, alone, lashed to the mast, resigned To lose himself in nature unrenewed. Still on the past his warmest fancies brood — Of Art and Knowledge and the monkish mind — Arise ! my brother why this face of woe ? Drink Beauty's cup, 'tis all we know. * He A THUNDER STORM. » I. The thunder sounds in distance far away, Night's rule is o'er — the white clad dawn is near. Hesphoros, star to Nature's children dear, Shows not his points, wherefore the scoffers say- That through the mist divided by the play Of chilly winds which whisper in the ear Of Science and of Art, wan shades appear And show their forms in irksome light of day. Ahj lovely voices calling from the dead, Where are ye now ? Where might the Aiden be Where resting sweet the great earth-mother's heart Receives her own ? Then shall it oft be said What were the truths they would to us impart, Portend they joy or ill eternally? 48 [I. , Oh, mighty Vulcan, dost thou ever die ? Art thou ahve and dost thou know the truth Of early dawn and morn of Time uncouth ? Yon thunder cloud is but man's heart-felt sigh ! As for ourselves we gladly bid good-bye To phantom myths, that silly children soothe Their puny fears with, while they look with ruth On purple hills where nathless would they fly. Be thou removed thou empty wanton fear ! Not for ourselves do we the storm clouds dread But gladly list we, if perchance we hear Above the crash as fall the idols down, ''And art thou weary? Martyrs make thy bed," " Dost thou seek fame? With emp'rors share the crown." 49 III. Oh worldly man, would'st thou the impulse balk And still in mire enjoy thy wallowing? The shew-bread stands, that mystic sacred thing From year to year, while skeptics vainly talk Of things unknown as through the world they stalk. Oh, lovelier than a painted angel's wing Is Hyacinth the favored flower of Spring : The boy who would with great Apollo walk Zephyrus with a blow deprived of breath And sent him on his lonely pilgrimage. Now once a year we greet upon life's stage His blood returned, a blossom from the dust Whose petals hold the stripling's name in trust. Who knows what buds shall blossom after death ? 50 IV. In vain we strive our fellow fools to lead ; Our cankered selves give us the greatest pain. The five barred gate of sense which closes gain Of mysteries on which disciples feed, Shuts out our light, though like a feeble reed Each prison bar holds back the fancies vain, Yet fig tree's fruit from thistles poets fain To gather, though the great wide world hath need Of lilies fair, of holy chords that strain The lyres of mind that rapture all the heart. The canvas waits the pigment once again The thistles cause the tender feet to smart, The outer man proves oft the deadly, bane And as we die we 'gin to learn our part ! THE TR UE A ND BEAU TIF UL . Oh Nature what a monster fiend thou art, What crimes dost thou commit upon a scale That puts to blush thy puny creatures pale ! Justice and mercy, ne'er a thought apart. Sunshine and plenty, peace throughout the vale At once are changed by subtle earthquake shock. One moment pure, then of revolting filth, Can'st tell thy virtues though with pious tilth We search thy page and sinful find thy stock ? Eternal crime is carved in bawdy wealth Of sacred truth, that wretched stumbling block : Thy deeds show darker than the hordes of sin That tramp thy highways mingling with yon flock So fair to sight and yet so foul within. TO A LANDSCAPE ARTIST. Oh, painter ! by thy art depict at will The morning's early dawn, the noon's full ray, The sunset's glow, mysterious twilight's gray, Chaste Isis beaming from her plains so still, The forest's green beside the gurgling rill, Spring-tide and autumn's russet smoky day : Oh poet ! from the muse pour forth the lay Of hopes now dead, the hidden joys that thrill The heart of man: then turn and tune thy lyre And sing of love the greatest theme of all : Behold, the busy throngs around thee fall ! Alas, the painter limns not his desire, The poet fails to light the sacred fire : The canvas fades, the sweetest stanzas pall. 53 ANDANTE. The settling sun beyond brown wooded hills Illumines the cold gray sky ; A carmine haze the purple distance fills Which'holds the regal dye. The tangled branches of an hoary elm Are bathed in censing mist, Beneath, warm shadows overwhelm The sun's lance when they list. Soft touched by gentle zephyrs sweet and low Now floats a fire formed cloud,-. Which like a crown ta'en from Osiris' brow He leaves fair day endowed. " The tuneful birds have hied them to their nest Th' Angelus sweetly rings The lab'ror homeward hales him to his rest, This hour no rest me brings." 54 " For me no evensong or none's bright beam Nor wood with beauty filled, No matin bell can waken from its dream That soul which once me thrilled." " Thou eye, canst see, thou ear, canst hear far more Than this poor heart can know. No art so sweet, no wealth of learning's lore Can ever still this throe." ^ -X- OD THE FIRST EASTER MORN, Like touches of an angel's frosty breath The opal mists enrich the sparkling down : Far 'yond the hill in silence rests the town And on the crest, a cross's shade beneath, A soldier sleeps, his sword within his sheath. The grave is rent ! the Suff'ring Son has flown ! Ah, where is He whose cerements are strewn On purple rocks where rests a glorious wreath Of lilies pale 'gainst virgin's robe of blue. Which like a type forever seems to stand ? Ah many days of bleak and chilly rain Have sped to give those flow'rs their pearly hue ; What show^'rs of blood shall fall o'er ev'ry land, To 'venge Thy death, Thou Conq'ror over Pain ! .M. JA 56 SUNSET MEMORY. A bow of bright raid brilliant burning might Illumes the west : the fire-bridge streaming first Adown the clouds whose darker shades delight To shoot in gray and sapphire streaks, which burst In flaminp- forms, where like a red shield nursed. An orb of molten metal m.eets our sight : The blood-red m^ass now heaves and throbs while night Doth stay her hand. Rose coloured clouds immersed In ruddy gold seem weary of ascent And float far on the zenith, listless, down, Like steam from burning ocean which may not Be quenched. The wind doth lull around the spot Slate coloured shapes whose shoulders now present Dim sunset glories while the sea the)' crown. A LEGEND OF DANTE, I. Beyond the sea, 'neath vast cathedral vault The poet stood : the painted window bright Poured on the throng a misty holy light : He heard — through incense smoke, the march and halt Of chime and chant, the bread made God, the word Of prayer by sinful lips intoned — the lyre That groping man hath struck, by Persia's fire In Druid groves, on Gunga's sands: he heard The Muzzim's call to prayer, the battle cries Of Peter's hosts, the Naz'renes dying sighs. He bowed and worshipped as was read the word "Orates Fratres." While his sick soul lies Communing with the Over Soul in sooth That he had long before besought for truth, kS II. (Mere outer forms quench not the thirsty land,) Lost in his thoughts the poet viewed in fright A scene that fain would turn his fancy's flight : Leading an ape, a jester took his stand Then turned his back upon the altar's flame: The court-fool stood beside a sculptured • shrine And cap and bells threw at the bard divine, Saying, " No matter what we do, the same Will be excused in us," then crossed his breast And muttered ribald words that merit doom Of sacrilege. The poet knelt still in the gloom Then rose and haled him from his pest. Oh Satire ! thou art homage justly paid By Commonplace to lofty Genius' shade ! S'J BY THE BREAKERS. I. The shadows fall upon the shore and night With argus eyes now turns the twilight breeze On shingly beach where sighs through dusk the sea's Low moan. Lone in the gloom I stand with light From sky pour'd down erstwhile to dream the sight Of golden streak in far sea line : myst'ries Unknow^n, the timeless land beyond the plain Of dim horizon and the shipless waste Of waters, th' quiv'ring spanse of silver chased In fickle forms of beauty rare, stars slain To rise renew'd, not as the white sails taste The shaken surge to speed no more again — Upon that sea come ever voy'gers bold Brinsfin.? the watcher tales of land untold ! 60 II. Aye, ages gone upon that shipless sea Piercing morn's mist that wrapt the purple field Before the cyclop's eye like burning shield Made wraiths arise and fly in ghostly glee, There came a galley decked like jubilee Of Cherubim and Seraphim revealed To give poor man the news he long had sought : Blithe were the trav'lers, stalwart was the crew, They chanted psiams as into sight they grew ; The watcher grim beheld as in dim thought A sudden flash — light into life was bronght ! Then on a shoal the valiant craft askew Sank in the sands nor was a voice there left — The turbid waves rushed o'er the fatal cleft ! LIBRARY OF CONGRESS lillllliiiliililllillliil 015 988 529 A