.^cm.' ^iT I ,■??« A,!"^ 1m %•- T-x:Ki i THE LAYS of a BOHEMIA'N. BEING SOME OF THE METRICAL CONCEITS OF SCOTT R. SHERWOOD. So, when my Lays before the Carp- ^ -^^v^ ^ My leaves unto the wind— \ I fling, remember that my Harp Is tuned to hymn my mind. In mood as it reflects a Soul— Z X Not your's, but God's alone— Of which is cradled here first Foal,— If needs, let God atone ! Bohemian Song, (p. 8.) BRENTANO BROS., NEW YORK. 5 Union Square, 1885. SECONJ) EDITION. Copyright, 1885. By SCOTT R. SHERWOOD. All rights reserved. WOOD & BLONDEL, PRINTERS, NEW YORK. TO THE Inspirations of the Thought, AND the Associations of the Name, OF Anna Frances. CONTENTS PROEM 1 BOHEMIAN SONG 5 MY DAY OF REST 11 My 'Scutcheon. . . * 15 A Poet's Inteospect 17 YouK Heaven, and Mine 20 Faith 21 My Thanksgiving 23 Illusion's Lesson 25 Above the Clouds 26 Althazab's Gift 28 Memoey's Choice 31 Musings ; Feom a Phelosophee's Poetfolio. . . 32 The Puzzle 34 CONTENTS. MY SHRINE 37 I Have Been Loved 39 Love 42 Love's Psychology 44 Love's Response 45 The Missing Notes 46 Our Tryst 47 Too Late 50 Of What Avail? 51 To Flora (of the Demi-monde.) 53 My Spring is Here 54 Love Hath no Bourne '. 55 Althazar's Wooing. (A Love Letter.) 57 Fatal Hue 60 That Portrait — ^Whose ? 62 Love Alone Can Save the Heart; (A Song.). . , 63 Francesca's Reverie 66 Althazar's Muse. (A Reverie.) 68 Love's Greeting 70 A Thrill 71 My Sanctum 72 Alas, Dear Wife of My Soul 74 Love's Bard 76 We Must Live Again 77 Our Holiday 78 Confection 79 In Memoriam 80 A Lover's Hymnal 82 CONTENTS. ALTHAZAR'S MISSION 85 Beook No King ^ 91 My Revekence 94 Noblesse Oblige 97 Soul Sinister 101 Trust Not Appearances 102 A SHADE 107 Occult 108 Mis- Allied 110 A Sigh Ill Fair and False 112 First Love's Adieu 114 It Cannot Be. (A Response.) 115 Questioning 116 I Fain Would Soft Preach Her 118 November to May 120 By The Sea. (To , A Coquette.) 121 She'll Understand 124 MY HOSTAGES 127 BONBONIERE 131 A Few Carrier Moultings. Age HIatters Not to Me 133 She Would Not Wait 133 No Tiding 134 A Tang Leaf 134 Depending Upon Circumstances 135 A Valentine. 188 CONTENTS. THE POKTENT 141 Two Antiquakian Models. L— His St. Valentine's Ode— To His Grandson 134 n.— Her St. Valentine's Ode— To Her Grand-daughter. . , 144 Jennie Beadshaw 145 XONTIEEL BeVISED 149 AMONG THE EECRUITS 159 The Mercenary Woman 162 He Can Play on the Piano 164 Ode to Richmond Hill 165 Great God — Little Man 168 Sacredly Invested 169 To My Critic .* 171 NOTES 177 PROEM. Apollo's hesty In hour of rest. To tune and strike my lyre, I here obey — The dull work-day Abandoning for higher Paths than are trod By crown or clod In sequestrated home — My fancies free From apogee To flood to reckless roam — Blue skies to skim. Broad oceans swim, Bold mountain crests surmount ; Through forests glide — On Phoebus 'stride — Nor verse, nor metre count. Since weed and floss Each other cross In all life's journey through — Faint to descry Dull human eye The false from that is true. My Day of Best, My soul's bequest To my adored — the themes My heart approves Or spirit moves — Of thought the fruit, or dreams — I sing, and sing — Aye wandering — By no restrictions bound^ Content to soar Or fall, not more Besponding for than found. My hours I choose In sweet recluse For meditation's gifts. When dulcet spring The chimes that ring ^ From grander domes and rifts Than steeples pierce. Or bishops, fierce. With bulls and canons reach — The domes that glow With sacred flow From Lights Jove's Essence preach. THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. BOHEMIAN SONG. BOHEMIAN SONG. I am a true Bohemian; I scoff at rote or rule — Deem myself good as any man, No more or less a fool — Live where I am, fare as I may — Am pleased with any lot — Remember friends, and never lay A grudge for them are not. I love fair face, wherever met; Sweet-heart I love still more, And pity aU who never yet Of pity have found store; For love and pity true are kin. And all my sorrow here Is for the many never win From fellow-kind a tear. BOHEMIAN SONG. I favor give to them I like, And take from them who please To give to me because I strike As one who can appease The wish of sympathy — that glows In every human heart, Yet fondest utterance bestows On like's responsive part. I press my views on no man's glass, Nor reflect his from mine. Since God's intent, 'tis plain, alas ! For reasons wise, divine, "Was not, in his broad universe. To make twin moon or sun. Two minds to think, two bards to verse, Two hearts to beat — as one. I drink the breezes softly waft. And gratefully exhale; With awe, the lightning's gleam and shaft Watch, flashing through the gale; View, pensively, the torrents roar. The waves, mid-ocean, toss. The stars the azure gemming o'er, And feel there is no loss. BOHEMIAN SONG. Aye ! Everything to me is gain, For everything seems new — And always new, tho'seen again, And grand, from any view, Because a true Bohemian Am I, and make my nest Where'er I chance, and let no man Abridge my heart's behest — To rove the desert, sail the seas, Mid' waste, or peopled town — Oft lingering in climes where freeze The veins, or insects drown — In humming myriads — the air, Imbred by torrid wave, Or in old sepulchres that glare With stones the eras lave. And wheresoe'er I stray or wait, Or tarry, feast, or love, 4.t matin's dawn, or vesper late, I never care to move One pace beyond where I may rest. Or rise, or list, or hie — Since every line my lot the best For me, e'en when I die. BOHEMIAN SONG. So, when my Lays before the Carp — My leaves unto the wind — I fling, remember that my Harp Is tuned to hymn my mind, In mood as it reflects a Soul — Not your's, but God's alone — Of which is cradled here first Foal, — If needs, let God atone ! THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. I. Now calm reflections rule the hour — Our thoughts upraise to heights Whence soar the truths that brightly flower, Amid earth's wastes and blights, To teach the grandeur of the soul, Reveal our better part, Lift from the quicksand and the shoal Of life the surging heart. A Poefs Introspect, {Page 17). MY DAY OF REST. IL MY DAY OF BEST. My day of rest is not constrained by special creed; No sect, assuming God's prerogative, my grace May claim; denominations, none a title-deed Can forge to swerve my conscience from its altar- place. My Sabbath's recreation, as befits my mood, Is found beneath the shelter of my tree and vine. Where my best hopes, desires, all that in me is good Plead- my true cause most potently to Eye Divine. Here, in the shadow of my oaks, whose stature grand. Whose massive trunks, far-reaching limbs, and foliage dense Have spread a canopy, contrived by nature's hand, Behold my church — of broadest trust, of least pretense. 12 MY DAY OF REST. No architect my temple has been hired to build; For it no priests, from rich or ]DOor, alms beg or force; At eve, or mass, ne'erless, with worshipers are filled Its corridors, aisles, naves — with a sublime con- course Of myriads of moving, breathing miniatures — Of God's conceptions living semblances — de- signed For spheres as useful and complete as earth's or yours, Tho' not to rituals conformed or rites confined. I draw my inspiration — my encouragement In my deep faith — from all these varied forms, the orbs Which give them life and heat, the clouds their nourishment, The soil that all our being, effort, hope absorbs. My choir — the strain of birds, the droning of the bees. The frog's bass-croak, the hoot-owl's monody, the low MY DAY OF BEST. 13 Of kine, the bleat of lambs, the neigh of steeds, the breeze That wafts — e'er sigh or moan — as winds or zephyrs blow. My preacher — a wee child, who innocently sings Her tuneful carol, plucking daisies from the green, Or gambols with her kitten, or in hammock swings So cheerily, I peer — at risk of being seen. As sheltered by a fir, I scan her face, and eyes Of violet— beaming thought and love — to heav'n turned. So 'rapt her spirit seems beyond the stars would rise, She frames a sermon wisely-lessoned, if not learned. My little priest — inspired by nature's soulful text — Exhales an incense sweet with Faith, Hope, Charity; — How happy, all mankind, like her! How rarely vexed Their courses, could they guileless dwell in parity ! 14 MY DAY OF REST. If I nor bow, nor bend my knee, nor clasp my palms In prayer, I feel a yearning which God may have read With his omniscient eye: — For all I crave the balms Our purest years would yield the living and the dead. The wish divine doth spring — so tenderly, I pray : Yon spotless soul, irradiating gentleness. All gladness, mercy, good the young alone display. May virtue guard, truth save, and circumstances bless I MY 'SCUTCHEON. 15 MY 'SCUTCHEON. My 'Scutcheon is my Heart — Borne close within my breast, Whence it can none impart — Save me — its seal and crest; Its priv'lege ne'er to start At aught save God's behest — It is a kingly chart, Aye serving me the best. It is my mark and sign — My mark and sign alone; For ev'ry error mine It only can atone; To me the Eight Divine Within its tendrils grown; And no man may opine If it be mild or stone. 16 MY 'SCUTCHEON. My father could not give — It came to me from God. My son I cannot leave When I beneath the sod. For me it may conceive Alone — or soothe, or prod, Or hate, or love, or grieve — Control'd by no man's nod. As no two things alike, Or ever known to be — Beware ! The hand would spike The coat design'd my tree. — Beware ! Who'd dare to strike From me its blazonry. — Beware ! Who'd forge a dike To stem its floods — e'er free ! A POET'S INTROSPECT. 17 A POET'S INTROSPECT. How varying the moods that move The pulses of the brain — Through chords supremely touched by love, Or frets with hate that strain — Through meditation's solemn trance Or fancy's lightsome pace, As pranks and humors lead the dance Or with vagaries chase. Now calm reflections rule the hour — Our thoughts upraise to heights Whencje sown the truths that brightly flower, Amid earth's wastes and blights, To teach the grandeur of the soul. Reveal our better part. Lift from the quicksand and the shoal Of life the surging heart. 18 A POET'S INTROSPECT. Then sweet emotions, tinged divine By heaven's chast'ning breath, Throb o'er the arbors that entwine Our hopes — in life and death, Yield blossoms that enchant and thrall, "Waft perfumes that diffuse Love's subtle incense throughout all The haxpings of the muse. Next, brief conceits the mind invade And capture to express Trite theories, or theses staid, Or clamors for redress Of wrongs and errors by the plane Of worldly squares and rules. Not heeding how diseased the grain Of sense in human fool&. Or chirping fancies frisk and leap From idle whims, and seize The effervescing thoughts that sweep The skies, o'er gale or breeze — Or whirl with eddies, buff with tide. Or pierce the vapid mists, Or in the coach of humor ride. Or mime in comic lists. A POET'S INTROSPECT. 19 Or bubbling quirks the surface rise, To ripple for a trice, And bring a smile to saddened eyes — A moment loose the vice That shuts from sympathy its kin Or fellowship with mirth — Evoking transports that begin To mold athwart their birth. Of wild caprices, with their fumes And, vapors, wierdly glow Above the hum of labor's looms, Yet far the stars below — In frolic verse, or rollic rhyme. Wild warbles fife, or freaks Fantastically ring on chimes, 'Mid laughter's gleeful shrieks. Or satire, musing Damascene, Hypocrisy lays bare. And falsehood pricks with blade so keen That honesty seems fair. Sweet virtue for a moment blest — Alike for drones and plods. Rare truth aroused from stubborn rest, The scale of justice God's. 20 YOUR HEAVEN, AND MINE. YOUK HEAVEN, AND MINE. Your bliss in liope subsists, in contemplation mine; Your paradise, of fruits to bear, a vision grows, While on my past the radiance of heav'n bestows A charm — illu'ming garlands oft the tombs entwine. Supremest joy to me experiences reveal — In friendship, that shall, with my faculties, endure — In love, haloed by confidences that ensure A trust so perfect no vague myst'ries may conceal. Seek, if you please, in the hereafter your repose ; But strive not me to wean from my content. On raptures felt my reverie can dwell intent — Not heeding, through the shades, what life doth not disclose. FAITH. 21 FAITH. Every thing and thought doth breed- Sure as man or beast; Not a breath our pulses speed Dies, e'en Hfe hath ceased. Every blessing, for its meed Grateful thrill, at least; Every sorrow by the seed Of cruelty increased; Every penny lost to greed Some poor waif doth feast; Every whim, tho' none may heed, Hath some fate capriced. Landscapes grand, and glowing skies From the canvass spring; Yearning hearts, and soulful sighs Muses move to sing; Deeds, from noble thoughts that rise. Eloquence doth wing; Tyrant's heel, and heroes' cries Freedom's echo bring. Guillotine and gibbet spawn Criticism's staves; From the nightly flagon dawn Thieves, assassins, knaves; 22 FAITH. Wanton souls and bodies fawn Dens that mis'ry laves, Bitterer, with tears, than drawn E'er by hallowed graves. In our dream, or waking trance — . Joys and dreads intense ; Yield the race, the chase, the dance Foils for reason's fence; Not a movement or a glance Void of consequence; Gleams a ray the sun's bright lance- Cast a shadow thence. Yet o'er heaven's necromance Spreads a vail so dense. None may know if Supreme Chance Guideth more than Sense. MY THANKSGIVING. 23 MY THANKSGIVma. Thanks to my Heart ! — It grateful drinks God's air — Quick-throbbing to the glance of love, and voice Of liberty — all things beholding fair In nature, and in man — when doth rejoice Man in his manhood, scorning all untruth, When from injustice quiver and recoil His thoughts, and when he doth defy, not ruth Of words or blows, the touch would virtue soil. Thanks to my Soul ! — Content it lingers here — From the productive soil of this rich earth Gleaning the food — the sweets no other sphere Can wean me from before my second birth May follow all I know of life or death, Or care to know of things beyond my life. Whose fitful scenes, and thoughts and acts — each breath New drawn — prove me with little knowledge rife. Thanks to my Body ! — It would not ascend To sun, or moon, or twinkling star, or soar Beyond sparks visible, or yet descend The bowels of the world, to mine and score 24 3IY THANKSGIVING. The notches by which greed would aid me gain The luxuries to raark me — from my kind — A gilded something set apart to stain And blot the true fraternity of mind ! Thanks to my Senses ! — All of them revolt At ev ry custom that impedes their right To make my lot a joy, or that would molt My freedom to indulge — false caste despite — The fruits of labor, love and honest toil, And to resent perversion of God's law By superstition's torch, or tyrant's coil Alluring man's cupidity and awe. Thanks to Myself ! — I am that which I am — Nothing higher or lower, more or less — Nothing shorter or taller, tho' you damn My size, or criticise my shape, and guess I might, or ought to think, or do, or seem The very opposite of that* I love The best — My own true self, the which can gleam But one Light e'er eclipsing — that of Jove ! ILLUSION'S LESSON. 25 ILLUSION'S LESSON. Empty as an echo, Hollow as a sound, Ev'ry thought and action Compass'd by the bound Of this world's horizon, — Nor will e'er be found Truth, save fate hath somewhere Brook'd of hallow'd ground. Ev'ry cloud that crosses The ethereal blue, Ev'ry wind that courses Plain or forest through, Carryeth delusion — Howsoe'er we view Cause or aim — illusion Hiding all is true; Making sweet with incense What is often blight; Honest feeling intense To defeat the right; Pious vows a pretense To obscure the sight; Life, but experience — Teaching : " God is Might." ABOVE THE CLOUDS. AEOYE THE CLOUDS. I. How dwarf d and paltry seem the ways, liow cramp'd the views of men, Their poverty of scope how mean, their aims how desultore. As from the boulder'd mountain's cleft my thoughts, untrammel'd, soar A moment toward Infinity, then droop below ^gain ! n. Oh ! That I might here plant my hearthstone — far above the clouds, My home might rear behind the mists envailing man's trite schemes, My poor desires uplift to where my life would flit in dreams Far sweeter than the pleasures that delude earth's fickle crowds ! ni. Or that I might, o'er ocean thence, be borne — to island lone. My bark abandon there enwrecked, fast foun- der'd in the sand. By surf encircled evermore, so should my heart withstand Blind passion's petty grovehng — in envy's emmet zone! ABOVE THE CLOUDS. 27 IV. Cast me amid the waves and breakers, 'neath the lightning's glare, If they may serve emancipate me from earth's tiring jars And bickerings, so waste that — no less by sun's blaze, than stars' Pale gleam, on life at rest — man's labor seems of fruit shorn bare ! V. No prize the world can designate to tempt ambi- tion's greed, Or opiates the subtlest skill extract to sense beguile. Can charm me from this crest, whence leaps my soul tow'rd heaven's smile — Spreading so omnipresently, revealing all I need. 28 ALTHAZARS GIFT. ALTHAZAK'S GIFT. There is an intuition in the minds of some so keen It seems a direct gift from God — by which are read the signs That mark the inner hearts of other men — through which are seen The motives of their surface acts— their souls' work and designs. What by Althazar's circle oft is termed satiety Is but his native shrinking from the traits he doth surprise In his own kith — retarding quest of their society Or haunts — their conflicts or their friendships — aid or enterprise. A glance — by others unobserved: a frown, a curve, a bend; A voice — its modulation or inflection; simplest gait Or gesture; e'en a posture, or an attitude, will send — As if clairvoyantly — to his quick consciousness its fate. 'Tis not a gift to prove its owner less than his poor kind A man, or more a god; nor is't a gift to make one proud, As evidence of higher faculty of soul or mind ; But 'tis a gift that may not be contemned, where'er endowed. ALTHAZARS GIFT. 29 If 'tis a cheerful boon, Althazar never vauntingly Confesses it; for it hath made him strange and reticent When he would not seem so. Despite himself, it tauntingly Hath warned him, thus : " How guilty they ! This one, how innocent ! " " Gentle, the heart there masked by face of cold severity; "Loving and kind, that frugal pair so queru- lously plod; " Generous, he admonishing with such asperity; " Deep-stirred with faith, yon pleader who de- clines to sue your God. " Cruel and vain is that dispenser of sweet charity; "False, this unctuous wearer of the church's livery ; " Base and designing, yonder patriot — with rarity " Of eloquence, a franchise wins each word's delivery." In ev'ry human phase, Althazar's cleverness detects The outward indices of the real inwardness; true worth From shams and counterfeits discries; from visible effects The cause of men's perversion traces — ante- dating birth. 30 ALTHAZARS GIFT. Tho' his quick impress may debar man's fellowship, methinks Althazar may have won a closer fellowship with God At all events, God's haunts are his — God's breath his bosom drinks, Expires, nor feels the privilege of chastisement a rod. He walks the solitary glen, the lonely wood and beach ; He crosses desert plains, and climbs the deso- lated crest; The stars and systems, skies and clouds he scans ; and he doth reach Nearest the truth, that underscores all things, and is the best — The truth, that bids us pity, when we judge — when we condemn, Forgive — to leave to God such vengeance as he wills — to plead From him no mercy not his own— small favor hope from them Bred to man's traits of treachery and greed. MEMORY'S CHOICE. 31 MEMOEY'S CHOICE. With memory of pleasure lost Affection barbs its arrow- — Admonishing the heavy cost Of joy life drapes with sorrow. Happy, they only, who have known No succor from the burden Chaining men to their lots, which groan With sweat— ^of bliss the guerdon. For hope hath he of better fate — Not having known to prosper, Or having felt to speculate He must upon disaster; Whilst he who trembles lest, perchance, Success may not be lasting, Is ever quiv'ring 'neath the lance Prosperity is blasting. Kemembrance, rescuing from the strife A sermon, gravely preaches : The only comfort plucked from life Unshamed reflection teaches. Not giddy pleasure's chronicle Is it man, happiest, views; Looking from heaven's pinnacle, Our virtuous deeds we choose. 32 MUSINGS ; FROM A PHILOSOPHERS PORTFOLIO. MUSINGS; FKOM A PHILOSOPHER'S PORTFOLIO, a. I. How perfect, tow'rd the end, our knowledge of the cause. From which we've felt, unwarned, the bittering effect! Tho' better late, than ne'er, we come to recollect And heed our intuitions- than aU written laws More serious and just — since human retrospect Must, wise, concede that Destinies — unseen — direct; Else, why in hopeless paths advance, in hopeful pause ? II If there live they who have not struggled 'gainst the wave Of Fate's decree, such here can never apprehend The blunders, crosses, sorrows Providence may send To change the heart misled, the mind from error save. For who, taught by life's checks and burdens, will contend That God, however chastening, does not intend A discipline, to each most needed, for the grave ? MUSINGS ; FROM A PHILOSOPHER'S PORTFOLIO. 33 III. Long in the mists and shadows do we strive and grope To conquer obstacles not e'en the spheres can move; To justify opinions trial must approve, Until, our judgment yielding, we attain a hope That we may follow — since we cannot cut — a groove For our due journeying, upon ways far above The circumspect of man — beyond blurr'd mortal scope. IV. And when, at the declining stage, our past we view — Touching its errors, battles, mysteries, regrets. By score of impulse, passion, self-love — worldly frets, — Contrasted with what conscience ever weighed as true. Our being, actions, thoughts, desires should seem but debts. On life's short ledger balanced by the grand assets Of being privileged to be, to think, to strive, to bravely do. 34 THE PUZZLE. THE PUZZLE. Pray, what is wrong ? And what is right ? If what our hearts impel Must oft be hid from human light Because the fates befel That like from like, by chance, should be — Through no device of ours — Diverged and crossed before frail we Could estimate our powers — Our powers or gifts — of thought, of love, Our strength to do, to check The motives, actions, aims that move This sphere — to joy or wreck Our destinies, and in the end Leave, jei unsolved, unkenn'd If our first choice or ways best tend Life's course to smooth or rend ? THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 35 II. Then sweet emotions, tinged divine By heaven's chast'ning breath, Throb o'er the arbors that entwine Our hopes — in life and death, Yield blossoms that enchant and thrall, Waft perfumes that diffuse Love's subtle incense throughout all The harpings of the muse. A Poefs Introspect, [Page ig)- MY SHRINE. 37 MY SHEINE. My shrine is at the feet of her From whom fire, tempest, flood in vain, Nor all the storms in space astir, Can separate my soul — whose fane She pillars with her fay. My goddess — lithe as dreams disclose Or in the dome of heaven wings — More vivid on my image grows. Fresh rapture to my longing brings With ev'ry new-born day. Her features — than Madonna's none With charity more mildly light — Encourage hope I may atone For heedless act or wand'ring flight Ere blest by her kind sway. Her step — more graceful tripped no queen Of orient or fairy land, In visions famed by poet seen — I so adore I'd kiss the sand Where its soft glance would stay. 38 MY SHRINE. Her eyes ! My God ! Thy spark divine Alone the mind's profounds may spring With power, by fate denied to mine, To faintly sound the hopes that cling To their exalting sway. Than form, or feature, motion, eye. More ravishing by far there gleam From her pure spirit thoughts so high Above earth's bounds, my life's a dream How best their wish obey. For ev'ry inspiration sweet Drawn from this sphere — by her made heav'n. So grateful I, no due seems meet Essayed in words. Love strength hath giv'n My heart to never stray From her — my soul to pray To none save her, alway. I HAVE BEEN LOVED. 39 I HAVE BEEN LOVED. My garb is plain — Of fabric poor, and coarse, my well-worn coat — Glazed by the rain And sun, my cap, as idlers all may note — My shirt undressed By starch or gloss — by tie nor ruffle decked; Yet I am blessed With joy few hearts, 'neath royal robes, e'er recked — From faith, subHme : That I was loved, loved truly Once, aye, once Upon a time. My form, now bent, Was then erect as any forest tree; My breath, short spent, Then filled a chest exhaling cheerily 40 / HAVE BEEN LOVED. Wild trills of mirtli, Or chants of praise, or ballads melting love, Ere soared from earth The echo of my soul — the stars above — With song sublime : That I was loved, loved truly Once, aye, once Upon a time. Ne'er wail nor weep I — sad and lone; fori would not exchange The furrows deep My features plow, the glist'ning hairs that range My locks, erst brown, Now thinned by grief and care, since proudest king Would barter crown To gain the peace of love — the joy I sing — The faith sublime : That I was loved, loved truly Once, aye, once Upon a time. I labor now — I labored then; but she was at my side, And on her brow. And in her eyes my hope could then abide / HAVE BEEN LOVED. 41 By signs that gave Encouragement, by smiles that brought repose; Yet I am brave, (For destiny — not we — our fortunes chose,) Through faith sublime : That I was loved, loved truly Once, aye, once Upon a time. I sometimes long — But, wherefore ? — since, when toiling, mine the gift Of sweetest song Ere muses breathed, or minstrel harped, to Hft Man's soul beyond The chains that bind it here, as in a vice, To grim despond. The gift of knowing all that's worth the price Of Earth's few score — The truth sublime : That I was loved, loved truly Once, aye, once Upon a time — Hence, evermore. 42 LOVE. LOVE. Fate's labor vain to rear a wall 'Twixt loves divine. Or crush the shrine Whereon twain souls have found their thrall. Paths may diverge like hearts afar — Their hopes yet near; For cloud nor bier Can from true love obscure its star. It haunts the busy work-day hour. The bed of dreams. First matin's beams, The calm amid which vespers low'r. Wild ocean billows may career, Or deserts burn Between, yet turn No eddies to awaken fear; LOVE. 4S- Since ever found, close-hovering With love, bright gleams From purest streams That spring the cold earth's covering — Gleams that, once mirrored, cannot fade — Their gift : To live- Sweet light to give The soul — when all beside in shade. 44 LOVERS PSYCHOLOGY. LOVE'S PSYCHOLOGY. Love whispers its sweet messages Above the storms of life So tranquilly, no presages Can rouse a dread of strife. No warning doth it ever heed — So blind affinity; — It recks ne'er space, nor time, nor speed — Its bounds infinity. It fears no danger, sees no cloud — Its happy fate to be So self-absorbed, no clamor loud Can break its ecstacy. One only language doth it know — Not spoken by the lip ; One only sign need it e'er show — And oft'nest that by slip — Through tell-tale eyes, to prove their deeps g Reflect a wakened soul — | Whence to its mate God's emblem leaps, Two hearts to mold one whole. I LOVE'S RESPONSE. 45 LOVE'S EESPONSE. Love ne'er denies — it gives, And asking, giveth more — • Since love, by yielding, lives, Eeceiving, adds its store. Love feeds upon the kiss That thrills its counterpart, And finds its home, its bliss Its mate's affinite heart. It craves its own caress While seeming to accede. And hath the gift to bless When most the pow'r to lead. Unsought, Love's answer : " Use ! Its only thought, to give — Its song, eternal muse : " For thee, my peace to live ! " Love ne'er can love refuse — Eesponding : " Aye, for aye ! "— Its chant, eternal muse : " For thee, my balm to die ! " 46 THE MISSING NOTES. THE MISSING NOTES. Melodiously through the air — From harp, and violin, and flute — Float strains so pure that pain and care Should seem exiled, and sorrow mute. Anthems they play — from Mozart muse — Aspiring harmonies so sweet. The mind, entranced, might well refuse Life's irksome wail again to meet. Oh! Symphonies sublime, that breathe — So far raised o'er this world's travail, "With smiles ye might the angels wreathe- Why is't for me your splendors fail ? A key, alas ! is wanting here — The nightingale cannot restore. The tend'rest notes reach not my ear, Nor on earth will they evermore. More thrilling than motet divine — How hapjoy, could I hear her voice ! 'Twill not descend from heaven's shrine Save my freed soul to raise — rejoice. OUR TRYST, 47 OUE TEYST. Can'st tell me wliat is here To cause my nerves vibrate, And make— as I draw near — My heart so palpitate ? Would'st say, the linden tree — On V7hich are fixed my eyes ? Quite like — since thou know'st me All nature's boons to prize. Nay ! — Then dost think the bench, That in its shade holds place, My normal veins could blench, And pallid hue my face ? Nor would'st believe the brook — Cool- winding just below The terrace, whence we look — Might make me tremble so ? Nor yet, the nonce, suppose God's clear, calm sky, above This refuge for repose, Could my whole being move ? 48 OUR TRYST. Ah. ! Love hath never, then, Thy wretched heart inspired ; Or quickly should'st thou ken By what my soul is fired ! Wherever lingered we, In those delightful days Of passion's infancy. Showered heav'n its brightest rays. First love's geography — Than your whole world's — hath made More legible to me Yon copse, and tree, and shade ! The azure realms that crown These sheltering branches, green — The hillside sloping down To yonder spring-bed's gleen — The seat — where once reclined Her form I worshiped more Than e'er it was divined Man had the pow'r before — Her eyes — ^that ruled my soul By glances, which no muse Can e'er presume extol — My mem'ry will not lose ! OUR TRYST. 49 So long as sense may 'queathe Me privilege to keep An image, whilst I breathe, This site's engraven deep. Oh ! Can our tryst — hallowed By love'o first pledge, embrace — By Thee, God, be allowed Eternity t'efface ! 50 TOO LATE. TOO LATE. His heart denied, love's token sweet refused Slie mourneth now as heaven's gift abused, And in her memory e'er will linger green Her last wish, still her wish, as parting — seen His pleasure in her will. His wish to woo her still. When her small hands by others tender pressed, And her soft lips by other lips caressed. His actions true, and words, with fond regret, She'll aye recall, as well her wish that yet His pleasure was her will. His wish to woo her still. " Oh ! Dearie, how I wish I'd kissed you now ! " — Her last low plaint, her pra3^'r, she'U wish were vow To love, kiss, fondle — long as breath could keep Her heart alive, that now doth silent weep What might have been her will. His right to woo her still. OF WHAT AVAIL ! 51 OF WHAT AVAIL! I. 'Neath clear spring skies I stroll tlie turf's rich green, And list' the merry warblers that careen Above its velvet, and the ripe'ning hedge That fringes, to the water's edge — Of what avail ! II. I linger o'er the streamlet's silver sheen, Its tinted-pebble bed, and depths unseen; Pursue its course along the hillock's base, Where vines and boughs, depending, interlace — Of what avail ! III. I cHmb broad slopes, and rugged cliffs ascend; Survey grand vistas which the heavens blend — Enclosing valleys rich with herds and crops, EncircHng mountains crowned with frosted tops — Of what avail ! IV. I thread the mazes of the lonely wood; RecHne on banks of moss; in dreamy mood, Evoke weird spirits from the dank ravine That the wild forest-shadow falls between — Of what avail ! 52 OF WHAT AVAIL! Of wliafc avail ? All ! It availeth not That God hath made his ev'ry work divine ; How e'er sublime the thought, or grand the spot — Since aU of rapture in my heart doth fail, Save when I have the joy of echoing thine. My love! My love!— Of what avail ! TO FLORA. 53 TO FLOKA (of the demi-monde.) Pretty blossom whilst thou bide, All the stronger could'st endear Hearts, if would'st thy petals hide From false lights, nor disappear Altogether from the world — Only nestle in the shade, Where thy leaves — by love unfurl'd, Sweet hope moist'ning — ne'er would fade. Little Flora, tint thy bloom. Ere it perish, with love's hue, For when wither'd, sear the doom Meted out to flow'rs like you — Nipt by frosts before the sun Nature's glow life's buds can fill. — Flora, list' ! The seasons run ; Few the days are left thee still. 54 MY SPBING IS HERE. MY SPRING IS HERE. b. If the snow be piled in drifts, StiU my violets sweetly bloom; Tho' the whistling wind sweeps chill, Yet my blue-bird gaily chants. For the violet — that lifts Its bright petals from the gloom Of bleak March, my heart to thrill — Clara's glance, englowing, haunts. And the bird, whose warbhng rifts Through white flakes — that weave their loom 'Mid the blinding gusts which fill Clouded sky — chirps Clara's taunts. LOVE HATH NO BOURNE. 55 LOVE HATH NO BOURNE. " Why sleep you, in tlie gloaming, here ? I spake, and gently grasped The stranger's hand, while clasped Its mate the stone he slumbered near. With dazed look, upraised, he sighed; — Then marked he my grave tone — My eyes, that plainly shone Mute pity's glint — and low replied : I waken from a holy trance You blindly mis-name sleep — Not known may tearless weep My heart the pall that shrouds her glance — Her glance ,that glows, through light or shade. In deep-graved semblances From sweet remembrances By love bestowed, ne'er doom'd to fade — Feeling my erstwise void — the past, With its foretaste of peace, Assuring care's release Through love, shall be renewed at last; — 56 LOVE HATH NO BOURNE. That altlio' sundered we — by fate, Love hath merged heart and will, Once loving, love we still, And love's elysium, trustful, wait; — Knowing her spirit bound with mine By loyal love's soft ties, Whose Jove-like strength defies Creation's pow'r to undermine ! I ALTHAZAR'S WOOING. 57 ALTHAZAE'S WOOING. (a love letter.) My darling little girl: 'Twas kind in thee to praise My meagre lines; but of my thoughts, poor, weak the offspring Seem in cold, set speech. Fancy's flight shall vainly raise The muses; not the nine combined have force to sing How deeply I adore, love, worship thee ! Jehovah's fire divine might human wit inspire With language consonant my reveries to show. My dreams with coloring appropriate attire — My waking, sleeping visions, all are so aglow With beatific images of thee ! No mortal gift can e'er portray the ecstacy. Surprise, compassion, hope by which I was confused When thy soft eyes bequeathed to mine the legacy Of their first glance— a glance that fain would have refused Response; — tho' naught have my eyes since beheld save thee ! 58 ALTHAZARS WOOING. In that grave moment, when from thy proud brow I pushed The tresses back — tearing the mask from thy false Hfe, Showing how tenderness was numbed, how hopes were crushed, Where both should bloom and flourish — when in thee at strife Justice and truth I saw, how my heart bled for thee ! And when in my sad tale of thine the counterpart Was found, it is our secret sweet how pity nourished Sympathy, till in every fibre of my heart One sentiment had weight to thrill, one form was cherished ! — Can'st ever doubt if then my soul was nearest thee? It was not left to question, after that sweet hour I caught a shadow from thy lattice backward shrink, If insecure to meet my glance had fall'n thy power; — Thence mine has been whatever pleasure man may drink Of this world's springs. — Words vainly speak my love for thee ! ALTHAZAR'S WOOING. 59 Nor ever can coined phrases echo from one heart Unto another, which affinity hath bound Together with its web supreme — nor can pen impart — The glories love hath conquered, hopes that trust hath found. — Profane the hand wouid dare describe my love for thee ! «0 FATAL HUE. FATAL HUE. I. In my brief cycle, eyes of mellow brown Are deep-haloed — by Fate's kind will, the charm, Through memory, deigned my earth. — Looking far down. Beyond the vistas, whence my mother's arm Again encircles me — no thought beside Recalled, my soul is pierced — tho' graves be- tween — By glances 'beaming love, at flooding tide, From orbs of richest brown — gleaming with ser- aph's sheen. n. And so, alway, have eyes of browned hue My spirit moved with quickest, tendrest thrills. — A dulcet vision now enwafts to view A shade celestial — that with rev'rie fills My heart — begemmed with stars of brown, that caught The tinder-leaves of love, in hope's wild years — My cadences of youth's first passion taught; — I ever see them — as we parted — bathed in tears. FATAL HUE. 61 in. Anon there came a fair maid — later, wife, The mother of my children — faithful, fond, Tend'ring to me, as pledge of love, her life By her best lights, retaining me in bond Not by my penance, or yet by her care — ■ Eeflex e'er found in umbered suns that seek My will, but by four other eyes — two pair Of magnet brown— that unto father's, pleading, IV. And at the last, I've won my soul's franchise — Eeposed 'neath deeps of brown that mirrored first Affinity's rare realms, the paradise Where hearts are soothed — their chords yet kept athirst For love — love only — love that always lives — Love that creates, consumes, yet never tires — A well that craves for more, while most it gives — Love, grand, supreme — unequal-hymned by countless lyres ! 62 THAT PORTRAIT, WHOSE? THAT PORTRAIT, WHOSE? That portrait, whose? you ask?— Faint image of a dream Of long ago, My only dream that e'er brought peace, and made life seem A sweet echo Of love— Of Heaven — The one dim reflex left to me of pleasures past — The clouds to chase From mem'ry's realms, or mirror — from beyond the last Bounds of my race — Of love— Of Heaven. LOVE ALONE CAN SAVE THE HEART. 63 LOVE ALONE CAN SAVE THE HEAET. A SONG. I. I wander, oft, with merry guests, o'er landscape- gardened grounds, 'Cross emerald lawns, thro ugh umbrage close, adown sequestered waj^s — By bower and fountain, lake and rill, and yet, in all my rounds, Find no delight from broad domain, no balm from others' praise Of that which charms external sense, while touch- ing not the heart. IL Tis true that many here might dwell, and happily endure What to my sight is but the yield of taste, with gold allied. That many might their lives enjoy 'mid scenes that me assure How often — to the real fate — the ideal is denied; For seeming by possessions blest, still void may be the heart. 64 LOVE ALONE CAN SAVE THE HEART. III. In noble aspirations crossed, in pure affections chilled, Checked by mistakes too late to mend, by wounds too late to heal, Whose sentiment, by charms of nature, or of art, is thrilled ! — So long as memory survives, or instinct lasts, we feel The only joys that give content are those of a lov- ing heart. IV. Riches are dross, all pastime's dull, philosophy's a snare To him whose breast finds no response, whose thought no echo brings, Since all the garnish of our strife, in this bleak world of care. Is brief and passing as the wind; the only wealth that clings Eternally unto the soul is that of a loving heart. Then take, oh ! take my worldly goods and wares, my grand estates. Fame, fortune, all man covets in his envy and his pride. LOVE ALONE CAN SAVE THE HEART. 65 And give me but a loyal heart, a mind, a soul that mates My own, in sweet affinity, in every sense my bride, Her creed: Love is immortal — love alone can save THE heart! 66 FBANCESCA'S REVERIE. FEANCESCA'S KEVEKIE. Love him ! why should I not love, idolize, adore The man who first with interest did condescend Inquire my wretched tale, a pitying ear did lend, Bade hope I might myself unto myself restore ? Love him ! worship were far more merited and true A word by which express the sentiment — too deep For circumscription to the narrow bounds that keep My poor heart powerless to herald his just due. Not my weak prayers for him presume implore From God the recompense deserved to manly deeds; His charity of soul and faith obscure the needs Of prayer, than which they of themselves assure far more. Then why thus smoulder, in my heart of hearts, the fire That burns to flash before the world my love's incense ! FBANCESCA'S REVERIE. 67 Or why not rest my head, proud, on his bosom — whence Ne'er beats a pulse that would not for my sake ex- pire ! Alas ! was it recorded, for a purpose wise, That destiny should pitilessly interpose. To haunt my horoscope, a shadow 'till Hfe's close ? Then quickly perish all, save love ! That never dies. For him my fealty deep, eternal as the skies ! As infinite my faith — resigning me to live Here, in the one sweet hope his love, his trust doth give: Our compensations God anon must equalize. 68 ALTHAZARS MUSE. ALTHAZAR'S MUSE. (a revekie.) My best was tombed Upon thy bier. When fell tlie tear My fate that gloomed, My Love. Tet have I wreathed A single gem. Your diadem It shall adorn, My Love ! For you first breathed Into my heart The vivid dart From which was born My Love— My life's true leaven — All e'er was worth My stay on earth, My hope of heaven. My Love ! ALTHAZARS MUSE. 69 Whatever food My thoughts may grow My God doth owe Thy pow 'r for good, My Love! Hence, bloom or fade, My mind's estate I dedicate To thy dear shade. My Love — For tribute mine — Soul's glimpse, and heart's My muse imparts — To build our Shrine, My Love! 70 LOVE'S GBEETING. LOVE'S GREETING. A perfume, as from spirit land, Wafts nigli; — A gentle pressure meets my hand; — A sigh Breaks; — and a face dawns — rose-hued deep;- Whilst eye So searching gleams, my pulses leap And fly. A form seraphic circles mine With bHss So pure, the current seems divine; — A kiss — Diviner — links with her's my soul. — Amiss The thought, for either, other goal Than this ! Behold the tokens nightly brings Sweet love To me, with hope that brightly sings Above My worldly cares —mid' dreams That move So peacefully — with life heav'n seems Enwove. A THRILL. 71 A THRILL. Why do yon flute's vibrations sweet Thus melt my soul to tears ? Alas ! Bright hours they bid me greet — Adown the vale of years. They waft to me so soft and low Her fav'rite airs, I bide Near wont familiar hearthstone's glow — Fair Anna by my side. They vivify my dream of love — Tho' ne'er love's mem'ry lost — Call back love's looks, ways, tones, to move Me now, in life's hoar frost. 72 MY SANCTUM. MY SANCTUM, c. High-crested o'er a pretty square — Eich-foliaged deep-green — as fair As nature's own; Ought I not feel — so grand the perch — Mv visions spread therefrom in search Of faerie throne ? Aye, when the sun beams on the trees, Their boughs sway'd gently by the breeze Of balmy June, As 'neath their shade yon fountain plays — In rhythm resembhng minstrel lays — Its cadent tune; While all within speaks taste and art — My hive array'd, in every part, With chaste design; Its sides with dainty pictures hung — Some rare, suggestive works among. You may opine. No doubt 'tis dear the reader deems My attic-parlor, and the dreams TTith which endow'd — MY SANCTUM. 73 Its desk and cabinet, choice books And prints, its casement that o'erlooks The humming crowd. Not always dear — but desolate My sanctum, myself isolate, When she not here. Dull, drear and sombre seem my walls, Dim, pall'd my gaze, where'er it falls. Till she appear. 74 ALAS, DEAR WIFE OF ]\IY SOUL! AliAS, DEAR WIFE OF MY SOUL! Never a Nay answer'd she, So long as she lived, to me ; Never a scowl or a frown. When most by sad cares weighed down; For me quick thought and kind cheer — A kiss, tho' all the world near; Tender of speech as a dove — She lived, helpmeet, for my love. Alas, dear wife of my soul. If there be heaven, my goal I Always a smile or a tear — As I would be cheered or moved; Never a tremor of fear To grieve the heart hers so loved; Never a pain or an ache Wailed she — ere sympathy knew; Her aim and work, for my sake. To live, to suffer, to do. Alas, dear wife of my soul. If there be heaven, my goal ! I feel that she's waiting me now, If souls hereafter survive; ALAS, DEAR WIFE OF MY SOUL! 75- Waiting and watcliing I trow, Her soul for mine — yclept alive (The wherefore, or why, or how To God alone known) to strive, With patience, my fate to bow Till joy'd my summons arrive — To join the wife of my soul In our lives' ultimate goal. 76 LOVE'S BARD, LOVES BAED. Spontaneously sx^riiigs the song Of love from poet's soul. Soft glide the strings his lyre along KesiDonsive strains that dole To human ears the glint divine Of chords the heavens sway From symphonies the muses nine Alone may harp alway. No clod, of plain, j^rosaic mold E'er on the lyre essay'd Love's measure strike, or moods unfold By stanzas interlaid With scintilating gems apt-rhymed — But seraphs quick discerned His metre counterfeit, ill-timed His fire, his verse ill-turned. The soul of bard doth throb and bound With sympathy so keen, No grim disguise can dull the sound His couplets bright careen, Or hide the sparks his thoughts that flame With pow'r to move the heart As nothing can beside — no name, No skill, no drosser part. WE MUST LIVE AGAIN. 77 WE MUST LIVE AGAIN. Why have we hoped, my love, so long and vain, Ourselves to understand, Since both our souls demand — As a condition — we wust live agfain ? "O" Elaine ! Unanswered we shall ever plead For mercy to enjoy Love born without aloy, Or confidence no shaft can rudely bleed. Wrecked are our hearts — that should beat one, and rent Our lives — by force of fate. Because we did not wait. With patience, for the signs which mark content. Regrets o'erhang our past, and shadows cross Our paths, to make obscure The truths we might endure If they could compensate us for our loss. Why dream, alas ! of compensation here ? Apart we farther drift, No hope our hearts to lift Until the welcome shrift — Annihilation, or a Brighter Sphere. 78 OUR HOLIDAY. OUE HOLIDAY. Wliy seem, to-day, the skies so bright and clear, The flow'rs so fragrant, and the meads so green, The groves so full of peace, the atmosphere So musical with bird-notes, and the sheen Yon lake reflects so heav'nly ? — Ah ! A face Gleams with the glance its heart bespoke, sweet Grace, When you wish'd me a happy holiday. And as I walk the woods, stroll pastures fresh, The wavelets skim, or thread the golden grain, I almost feel jo\x with me, in the flesh — So treasure I your wish, so gently rain Your eyes sincere the dew, as your lips trace The truth with which they give the thought, sweet Grace, For my enjoyment of this holiday. I hope this day, my little friend, may bring To you delights to banish ev'ry care ! Be you as cheerful now, as I, since sing All sounds one melody, and everywhere I pause or turn, your eyes, your voice, sweet Grace, In my poor heart o'er nature's charms keep pace. — For you, 'as me, be this true holiday! CONFECTION. 79 CONFECTION. (an album leaf) Thy charms, my lexicon's grand store Of sweets, rain laboring To pen ! — Thou Jujube — nectar 'd o'er With angel's flavoring ! — Thou Mallow white, from faery-shore, Of heaven savoring ! — Choice Marron glace — of the rare Thy small hands favoring ! Truce, Madeline ! for thou so fair, My song I'd braver sing If fate were kind ! — Oh ! why not dare For thee to graver ring The chimes my heart now guards with care ? Because true Peace I'd bring! 80 IN MEMORIAM. IN MEMOEIAM. d Chaste flower, No power Could change thy fate— Thy dower, The hour Should not be late For parting. Indeed, Decreed From birth — thy death Should speed; The seed In thy first breath Of parting. Not less We bless, "With sorrow deep — The few That knew Thy worth, and weep Thy parting. IN MEMORIAM. 81 Thy meed: Kind deed, And gentle word, Truth, love — Above Divinely heard Since parting. Friends lave Thy grave, Sweet Alice Earl, With tears, Tho' cheers The thought they pearl — Since parting — A brow That now God's chaplet wears, Nor fades, Nor shades With earth's sad cares Of parting. Sept. 15, 1884. 82 A LOVER'S HYMNAL. A LOVER'S HYMNAL. An angel's visit I await, Yet feel my angel knows So well my thoughts, from dawn till late, She'll look — in verse or prose — For one short pray'r from me. And I will make it love's sweet pray'r: God fill my darling's heart With peace; and teach — no matter wliere- She'll find its tend'rest part Abiding, true, in me. THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 83 III. Next, brief conceits the mind invade And capture to express Trite theories, or theses staid, Or clamors for redress Of wrongs and errors by the plane Of worldly squares and rules, Not heeding how diseased the grain Of sense in human fools. A Poet's Introspect, (Page i8^. ALTHAZARS MISSION. 85 ALTHAZAK'S MISSION. I. Althazar fell, lang syne, upon a lurid haunt — Of sinister repute. It was his venture first; the last In his life's span, save the like end to serve, God grant ! II. For he met there a stray'd child — 'dowed with timid grace; Of mien, rarely so pensive — in lovlier mold, none cast. — Strangely, wrongly, utterly seemed she out of place ! in. He looked into her weary, melancholy eyes, To penetrate the mystery environing her past; And from their depths surged one of nature's lies ! ALTHAZARS MISSION. IV. My token you, wise-reading, understand, or should, To phrase the obstacles — so vast — cold destiny hath flung Before the will and effort to do ever good — The sad impossibility events, stern, raise — Except, mayhap, for those by fortune favor'd to die young — Of following paths prescribed, in so-termed right- eous ways. V. How false did seem all cant, how chill philosophy, Viewing the fate of this poor waif Althazar found among The shadows, where she linger'd — lacking strength to fly! " By what mischance of Justice came you here ! " he had Nigh falter'd; but the words, reproachful, broke upon his tongue — It seem'd so harsh in him to rank her with the bad. ALTHAZARS MISSION. 87 VI. Tlie while he mutely gazed, so crossed her lot ap- peared, So counter- vailed her thoughts — as if, amid de- spair, they clung Yet to a hope, his soul with pity was new-reared. Eevived sprang dearest images of his own youth To life again, as on Althazar's lips the question hung That feared to shake his tott'ring citadel of Truth. VII. A mask her brow might wear ; he, ne'ertheless, would save; He dared not judge; to plead, admonish, move, he dream'd not how; He simply realized a wish for strength tradition gave Jove's mythic preachers, of the fabled days of yore — A wish for charity of patience, wisdom, power, now To lift a wreck'd craft o'er the quicksands — nothing more. 88 ALTHAZARS MISSION. VIIL A radiant face — that, years agone, was wont to bend Tow'rd his, ere sombre death had robbed his world of its one saint, His mother's — from the skies did tearfully descend, As if in answer to a pray'r. And group'd her's round His sisters' smiles, encouraging. Hallow'd mem- ories — faint Before — arose so vivid, confidence was found, And a vague trust — urging his soul, with sudden force, To purposes divine — yielding him introspect to paint Of fate's capricious ends the causes in life's course. IX. Then to Althazar woke the voice just hopes inspire; And soe'er brief the interlude between first thought and speech. In calmly whispered words, he breathed a sacred fire — ALTHAZARS MISSION. Not of stage or forum, of altar or of field, But of a SOUL yearning, with noble sympathy, to reach Those silent chords, in ev'ry creature kin, that yield. When touched, unto the right — making seem false and gross. Delusive, desolating, God-forsaking, mad, im- pure, All ways, things, circumstances, born of passion's dross — Eaising from the mist of dulled faith and wrong pride, Above the horizon, into heaven's undimmed azure, The knowledge that on safe paths chance may bring a guide. Althazar won, by sympathy's warm eloquence, That hour, a soul from chains and fetters it would hence abjure. Miscast — not by its will, but by its confidence 90 ALTHAZAR'S MISSION. In seeming good, that here gives Hell its influence To lead unwary steps on roads and by-ways ren- dered sure By one guide only — bought with age — Experience. XI. To dim remembrance since, in vain the years have rolled; The lustre of that hour — as a Mission — will en- dure, Pleading Althazar's grace, when his hfe's knell is toUed. BROOK NO KING. 91 BKOOK NO KING. Space and time's omniscient Seer Man denies the gifts mature To the worth, my sons, doth meed Eight divine to king o'er you. Wind and mind, both balm and blear, Sweep beneath the sky's azure — Changing if in pow'r and speed — "Yielding no man more than you. Aye ! All breathe one atmosphere ; All, by mold, of like nature. — Cancerous the womb would breed Caste or class to king o'er you ! What tho' some call life career ? Others deem we fate endure. — Neither sanctions king or creed Sporting fate, my sons, or you. Lies tradition holding dear Tyrant, or his record pure ! Trusts, e'er spurn'd by him, should lead You to brook no king of you. 32 BROOK NO KING. Crowns, nor crests, nor sceptres here All the sj^mbols fciaves insure. — Eead this truth — its warning heed : Gold would starve — to king o'er you ! Cassocks dynasties may rear, Sects evoking to assure Bondage— spawn'd of fears and greed.- Bigotry would king o'er you ! Question you what course to steer — Apt your lot to best secure — Shunning king-craft's shoal and weed ? List', m}^ sons. 111 answer you: Ask no favor ! Feel no fear ! Of yourselves seek to be sure— Never vaunting, but by deed Proving no man king of you ! Counsel with your soul ! The sneer Of pride contemn ! Be cynosure Of your own right aim — the need No king can supply to you ! BROOK NO KING. 9» Crown content ! Mold heart! Spread cheer ! If you would the crosses cure Of experience, and feed By the hands no king gave you. Anchor faith on no one's bier Save your own! Let no charm lure Your leal to the toils that knead Servitude and king for you ! Cringe not ! Bend not ! You are peer Of the czar, whom dreads now 'mure 'Neath the shadows, to which speed Princes all who'd king o'er you 1 When to thrones the 'larum drear Breaks, anon, so all may hear: God is Freedom ! — Far and near Hue the tocsin ! Loud and clear Eing the chimes, with blood imbure ! Strip, and burn the garniture Masking worldly crowns ! The seed Kill of sires who'd king o'er you ! 54 MY REVERENCE. MT EEVEEENCE. Let other mortals dwell in awe of the unknown; Or fawning, cringe — with timid nerve — to tinsel'd throne, To dynast}^ to chief, to him with whom they hire; Or homage pay to leader, master, patron, sire; — So they yield me the choice, which my soul doth incline — With rev'rence deep — tow'rd forms wherein I can divine A spirit gentler, purer, nobler, grander far Than all the venerated I have mentioned are. If mov'd by cant, or by cold prudence urged, the power Behind whose mystic sway the superstitious cower I might reserve; but I cannot my pen with awe Infuse for terrors I ne'er dreamed, or dangers saw. As for the panoplied, of human sort — tho' clad In purple — sceptred, or by custom's quest, as sad — 3IY REVERENCE. 95 "With plume encrest', in surplice robed, or mitre cased, If I once felt an awe for either, 'tis effaced. Infer not ev'ry form and phase I under-rate — I neither sentiment nor feeling venerate ; The godly I have oft'nest found in simple guise, In untrained thought ideas might put to blush the wise. — In little children — open-eyed, all innocence, Heeding impressions first, of no experience, Save that derived from nature's view, sound and contact — I see far more to awe than man's maturest act. My eyes shall never look on aught more beautiful — Endowing me with sense of what is dutiful So perfectly, so reverently that I grieve To think of the small strifes which, bitter, inter- weave Our work-day destinies, from cradle to the tomb — Than tender nurseling, gentle-lisping child, in whom MY REVERENCE. Perception of deceit, remotest glimpse of wrong Have not yet germed to taint the good — new-born and strong. For such how deep my pity, how great my concern ! So much they have to unlearn, not the less to learn, Of ways and things so vastly unlike what they seem — Perverting instincts, hopes — impelling them to deem The crooked path unto contentment they can chmb Only by flatt'ry, falsehood, treachery and crime, — That ALL MY REVERENCE AND AWE I FEEL I OWE To THE CONDITION DOTH PURE TRUTH, SWEET MERCY SHOW. NOBLESSE OBLIGE. 97 NOBLESSE OBLIGE. Equipp'd is he in redingote, In sportsman's cap and gear — As prancing on his steed, with proat He spurs her flanks, while near Him, mid' the hounds, there gayly ride- All deck'd in bright attire — His retinue, on ev'ry side. Whose whips and horns aspire : Noblesse oblige. He moves, at his attorney's wand. And dips his pen to sign Of his broad acres, mansion grand, A mortgage to the Jew Who holds, in virtue, all the fee An auction sale would show; But then " Milord " his friends with glee Must feast — his rank sustain. Noblesse oblige. Carouse he must, and yacht, and game. And give his heir her dot; His sire and grandsire did the same — So will his scions do. 98 NOBLESSE OBLIGE. If anything to pledge remains Of lands or jewels rare, To keep the style blue blood maintains When 'twould attest its brand. Noblesse oblige. The ball, the race, the hunt they lead, The round of folly run; Of fox bereft, chase aniseed — Their kennel and their stud To keep in practice for their guests, 'Till health and energy, And fortune, mock'd, to time's behests Succumb — t' attest their brand. Noblesse oblige. She droops beneath the rafters low And plies her slaving trade — With stitch and seam, while idlj flow The streams of wealth that ride. Her casement viewing, to the park — To catch the ev'ning breeze; — Yet toils she onward 'till the dark Enshrouds her — heeding not Noblesse oblige. NOBLESSE OBLIGE. 99 He wields a chisel and a plane, Or deftly points a wall, Or shoulders hod, nor doth disdain The plainest raiment wear; — "When freed from work, his hearth beside, A sire — at frugal board — He rules six waifs his counsels guide — No thought of mark or brand. — Noblesse oblige. With sturdy arm, he steers the plow And plants the fruitful grain; He grasps the helm, and moves the prow That braves the rocking main; He weaves the texture of your coat, Nor scorneth his hard hand To do whate'er men list or note Attesting labor's brand. — Noblesse oblige. He delves and mines, and from the mill Of nature plucks and grinds The rare inventions human skill In this quick age hath wrought To make the lights of other days Seem lustreless and dim. 100 NOBLESSE OBLIGE. The page of history blank, the lays Of minstrel crack'd, when sung Noblesse oblige. Ah ! Which the real Noblesse oblige That men should recognize — To which the heart should pay its liege — That we should highest prize ? Are they the noblest idly eat The grist from labor's strand, Their lives mis-spent, themselves to cheat With clam'ring:" Our's the brand — Noblesse oblige !" That is the true Noblesse oblige, Which arbitrary caste (By ignorance unfought,) held siege In other epochs — vast With opportunities for greed, For tyranny and vice — To-day ranks far o'er knightly screed, Above a kingdom's price ! Behold, in honest hearts, and Hege To fellow-men. Noblesse oblige. SOUL SINISTER. 101 SOUL SINISTER How o'ft, for causes yet untold, Are nature's surface beauties marred, The warmth from graceful figures barred By artifices cruel, cold ! How oft' do wit and courage bold Seem joined to pulses cannot beat In sympathy, but masked retreat Behind recesses glooms enfold ! How oft' do eyes, that pathos melt And seem with clemency alight. While urging good, inciting right, Yet promptings hide that Hecate felt! Oh ! Fatal curse ! Soul sinister — Obscured and vailed by gifts that lead Sweet confidence to wastes where bleed Hearts, to which none may minister! Shine, Truth Supreme! Through cloud and maze Let break thy rays, so they reveal How knaves thy livery may steal — Thy semblance mask, for tortuous ways ! On hypocrites imprint the brand — The sign, deep-sinister — to warn Against their pitfalls, hold to scorn Their virtues, which are writ' in sand ! 102 TRUST NOT APPEARANCES. TKUST NOT APPEAEANCES. Judge men, my son, not bj appearances, but acts — Not by that whicli they say, but what thy do; For they who play their real parts, speak their thoughts, are few. — Indeed, who of his failing would betray the facts ! Tis not the priest, who loud descants — in pious wrath — Of thy declining grace, or with moist unction pleads. True sympathy of heart most feeleth for thy needs. Or knoweth best how soothe thy spirit, guide thy path. 'Tis not the swaggart trumpeter of actions brave That spurs the serried host to victory or death. Or by his presence awes the mob and bates its breath. Or leads the van — the weak to rescue, faint to save. TRUST NOT APPEARANCES. 103 'Tis not the wheedling pettifogger — armed with calf And legal cap, due-parceled, bound with crim- son tape — In law most learned, tho' he contrive the fel- lon's 'scape. Snarl judges grave, and juries move to weep or laugh. Nor doth the man of pomp, or plausible address, In fabric clad of costly loom — of conscious wealth, Dwelhng in frescoed palaces, and vaunting health And honesty of purpose, yield thee truth's im- press. Nor doth the ferreting physician's sharp probos- cis — Assuming nature's shad'wy depths to penetrate. To recognize in man the sick from normal state — From symptoms always guess the proper diagnosis. 104 TRUST NOT APPEARANCES. Nor can the politician, when all other ways To fraud and theft (within the statute) are de- barred, For patriot's, or sage's, his own guise discard. And mount to heights where worth, abiding, meed- eth praise. And before all, my son, beware those syren sweets Or smiles, behind which eTer lurk such cruel freaks That robbed of his best, fondest hope, the man who seeks In them the charm idealty raises, contact cheats. To understand the man, observe how throbs his heart; Learn whither tend his thoughts, and mark his ev'ry deed, Distinguishing, in him, the flower from the weed — The SOUL of him from that in him which plays a part. THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 105 I^^. Or chirping fancies frisk and leap From idle whims, and seize The effervescing thoughts that sweep The skies, o'er gale or breeze Or whirl with eddies, buff with tide, Or pierce the vapid mists, Or in the coach of humor ride, Or mime in comic lists. A Poet's Introspect, (Page i8;. A SHADE. lOT A SHADE. Alone, a poet gazed upon the sea — Musing of man, and life, and destiny, And of the wiles bj which they mutiny Our thoughts and aims, desires and energy. The while he mused, twain stars, envisioned, passed So thoughtfully before him, that he read — Himself unseen — their inner depths, trance-fed By sea, and sky, and main, in reverie cast. And as the vision glided o'er the strand, He knew it was of flesh — a low, pent moan Its heart escaping, heedless of his own So near — aspiring sympathy's warm hand. Onward, afar, away — the image moved. Leaving behind a shadow he shall wait The substance of in vain — his soul elate, At times, with dreaming: "Might we not have loved ! " 108 OCCULT. OCCULT. "What is't that animates the child Shrink from the gloom of night ? — With quickened pace, side-glancing wild, Throb to regain the light ? — At every twig that snaps, a chill Feel shooting through each vein? — At sound or creak, that breaks the stiU, List', halt, and list' again ? What is't that prompts his whistle shrill. When threading in the dark ? — The empty halls his terrors fill With sprites that bid him hark For footsteps on the barren stairs. And tappings at the sash ? — Why doth the wind's moan crisp his hairs ?- Why faints he at a crash ? What is't that goads him reach his hand Far out, as if to guide His way, yet shrink from — as a band Of fire — the wall beside, OCCULT. 109 'Till strained with groping for a gleam Of light, mid' direst gloom, There bursts — so long pent up — his scream: " Pa ! Some one's in the room ! " What is't ! — It is the natural dread Of marvels felt — not known, Of mysteries, nor live, nor dead Have ever solved or shown — A consciousness there rules some Power, For weal or woe, beyond The ken of man, or that brief hour We float o'er Life's Profound. 110 MIS-ALLIED. ]VnS- ALLIED. Why question'd she if he a married man, When his broad rift of bald, mid' whiten'd hairs, And wrinkles — tokening domestic cares — Mark'd but too plainly how his youthful impulse ran? He should have been (of that oft-cited ten) the one To never make mistakes, to meet the fate Kare born of early wooing. — Ah ! too late He met her whom he should have waited for and won. Aye ! Tho' he might have wooed and wed a score of times, Tho' vows and altars from his side may bar Her sanctioned reign, she is the worshipp'd star His heart the sweetest incense wafts e'er moved to rhymes. A SIGH. HI A SIGH. "Alas! You did not kiss me? 'Tis too late, love, now ! " She murmur'd in the glare, And crowd — close-clustered there. Knowing that they must part For life. "Why could they not their love by soft caresses show? Because the world's wise laws. And social rules — with claws Of iron — mark the chart Of life. 'Tis best, ere with the grief of fancied wrong aglow, She lit his soul, deep yearned For hers, with spark that burned So pure it could but start In life. 112 FAIR AND FALSE. FAIR AND FALSE. Her dark eyes penetrate my sotJ, And all my senses ravish By their light; Yet I am warned she is a ghole — With charms tho' decked so lavish — Bearing blight. Her smile my heart doth magnetize — Melting my weak intention To her will; Yet calm reflections stigmatize Her face a sweet invention Framed to kill. Her tones entrance — enraptured bind Me to her orders, fettered Like a slave; Tho' well I know that you will find Her tale — with shame so lettered — Hell might crave. FAIR AND FALSE. 113 Her spell on earth may never break, But in its path destruction Scatter aye; Still hearts betrayed, for her sad sake, Pray that some better part may wake In her — for faith's instruction — Bye and bye. 114 FIRST LOVmS ADIEU. FIRST LOVE'S ADIEU./ It is throbbing in my veins, love, Thy hand-clasp at the gate, As blushingly we heard, above. The old clock strike — so late. It is thrilling through my soul, love. That last fond kiss of thine, Which rose from lips then wont to move Responsively to mine. It is burning in my heart, love. That last fond glance you threw, As yearningly you waved your glove- First passion's sweet adieu. IT CANNOT BE. 115 IT CANNOT BE. A KESPONSE. You cross ? — ^Nay ! but anxious a trifle — Perhaps sad, at moments, to think Your friend, from whose heart you would rifle The pulses, is nearing the brink Of life's dread abysses, where stifle The hopes that here move as to drink Of love from pure streams Beginning in dreams, To oft' end in utterless woe. Ah ! 'Tis I might seem cheerless and cross. And tired, for impatience hath led Me to seek, with results to hope's loss, The pleasures here wanting, since dead Youth and sympathy's faith — the dry moss Of time hiding scars where love bled, 'Till faded the dreams Once gilding life's streams — For joys now enc-ouraged too late. 116 QUESTIONING. QUESTIONING. I. "With half-reciprocation, how could she have asked Him to inscribe to her — by name — a verse, a line. From every echo of whose musings gleamed a mine Of love so rich that in its rays she might have basked ? II. Will the grand truth yet dawn she has not under- stood The inspiration lent to poesy by love — Whence, flaming, spring his symbols of the pow- ers which move To faith in her — as the epitome of good ? III. May she, when this vale's pilgrimage shall seem complete. One day recall what he was judged to idly sing. With eyes so changed that they shall feel awak- ening In wierd spheres — doubting if deserved their joys ^ to greet ? i QUESTIONING. 117 IV. Or can she brood, long ere tlie ending, there may be A gulf impassible — spreading their hearts be- tween, Across which both may be so differently seen Their now sweet whim shall coldly glare — a phan- tasy ? 118 I FAIN WOULD SOFT PREACH HER. I FAIN WOULD SOFT PEEACH HER. AN ALBUM LEAF. A rhyme to arch Emma ? — Ah! Dastard the pencil Would dare to aspire ! Sweet, petite and charming — (The thoughts are alarming My muse would inspire.) (The dear little teacher ! I fain would soft preach her How fondly I live In hope I may reach her — A moment beseech her Me lessons to give.) Yet now that the pleasure Is open to measure Her virtues in verse, I find me unequal To utter the sequel My longings rehearse. I FAIN WOULD SOFT PREACH HER. 119 Why another word say ? — Since my heart would betray The feehngs imbibed From manner, tone, face, And a form of such grace As ne'er pen described. r20 NOVEMBER TO MAY.. NOVEMBER TO MAY. AN ALBUM LEAF. Oil! "May," why did you sue cold, bleak " November" To blight a leaf whereby you might remember How poor the thought whose springs must soon dismember ? Aye ! May, my little friend, fresh, lovely, cheerful, Mementoes ask from visions bright — not tearful. And younger wits let make your album "Dear"-full. For if the boys are now of the same gender They were when my old heart was naive and tender They'll sing you "Sweet," nor heed ; ''Will it offend her ? " So take your Book; nor doubt, in months ap- proaching, A dearth of gallants on its leaves encroaching With gentler themes than I dare think of broaching. BY THE SEA. 121 BY THE SEA. TO , A COQUETTE. I gave my promise — here my promise keep — To write; so now, as looking on the deep, Encrested sea, beside which all things seem But small, and you the smallest — aye, a dream Of dwarfing folly, (waken'd from, 'tis true,) I send the sketch (so idly asked) to you. God's mirror of the stars — old ocean blue — Heaves its grand symphonies, my senses through A thrill of awe inspires, yet peace and rest Brings to my troubled heart, invoking quest Of nobler hopes than life's small compass yields, And holier than spring earth's barren fields. Thence landward drift my thoughts — upon the strand. No grain of which (tho' few will understand,) Less useful in the universal plan Than bird, or beast, or fish, or fowl, or man, And possibly with sense (if hid) as keen As man's, and heart as kind — perhaps as mean. 122 BY THE SEA. And thence my eyes revert to tender eyes That follow mine, as falling from the skies, They pause before the salt waves' broad expanse. Sweep o'er the surf, and meet a glowing glance From seas that mirror love, as deep, as true As ocean gleaming the infinite hue. My hand seeks her's responding; gently bends Her form, to which divinity soft lends An image fashioned slenderly, with grace Vouchsafed so rarely here, methinks her place Would be more justly 'mid the naiads, crowned With purer laurel than in our world found. And yet my soul to her outpours its love, The while she bends, each word to catch above The breakers' roar and sighing undertow, And echo back, with cadences so low They seem an angel's whisper: " Love, 'tis bliss With thee ! " — her whisper seaHng with a kiss. Oh ! kiss — sweet, pure, entrancing ! Kiss divine !- Eclipsing all the suns the skies that shine. Dwarfing the ocean's majesty with love No other power above, below can move BY THE SEA. 123- To brave tlie elements — for of the soul Is love, and God's Infinity its goal ! I trust my lines all that you hoped may seem, Altho' a picture like to read a dream To one whose heart has never felt, as yet, A deeper throb than moves the vain coquette, "Who at the voice of lover scornful laughs, And deems more tuneful far the lowing calf's. -124 SHE'LL UNDERSTAND. SHE'LL UNDERSTAND. I backward look'd, and caught her glance- Her glance such volumes speaks, And wonder if it was mis-chance That beckoned me away; Or was't my court'sy doth enhance Her charm, that never seeks. Or sues, or courts, but — as in trance — Its vot'ry holds at bay ? Tho' onward I, yet backward e'er My thoughts revert, and dwell On that weird glance — from eyes that stir The soul with passion's wand, And wish that I had dared retrace My steps, and bravely tell How vain the struggle to efface My . Ah ! She'll understand ! THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 125 V. Or bubbling quirks the surface rise, To ripple for a trice, And bring a smile to saddened eyes- A moment loose the vice That shuts from sympathy its kin Or fellowship with mirth — Evoking transports that begin To mold athwart their birth. A Poet's Introspect, (Page 19 j. MY HOSTAGES. 127 MY HOSTAGES. Four cliildren, ranging in their years From fourteen down to nine, Group round the board our ev'ning cheers — My faithful wife's and mine; And as the hours whui fleetly by — At least for her and me — A thousand questions oddly ply, Amid their books and glee. One boy demands: "Why, father, you Content to live so plain?— Of wiser men there are but few, I trow. — Not brilliant Blaine, Or bold Ben Butler, spite his wink, An abler President Could make than you — e'en, sooth, you think Their efforts vainly spent." 128 MY HOSTAGES. ''Aye, father," interludes my next: " Why not a soldier you ? " And following his brothers text: " If what they say be true — That is, the papers — Grant's a muff ; You're brave as he, and smart; And if you only cared enough. Might play as great a part/' "Nay ! Pa were, better, Vanderbilt," Breaks, earnestly, my third, (A girl, of course.) " Then he had built A larger house, and stirr'd The social world — with diamonds, And richest robes, so decked Us all, that none could vie — his funds Have strown, and never recked." My youngest had not ventured yet Her sage admonishment; Nor was it deemed she might offset — To their astonishment — By her naive speech, of simplest word, Her elders' wisdom rare. When, " Papa ! " Her small voice was heard; " I LOVE YOU AS YOU ARE ! " MY HOSTAGES. 129 " My children, she most haply reads," Spake I, "as nature prints — Who faith, and love for kindred pleads, And on their lineaments Can with a deeper pleasure dwell Than in the false acclaim From fickle hearts, that idly swell The requiems of Fame." ♦' Behold your fond old mother, here, And on each other look ! Then vision, if you can, the year Before her hand I took Into my keeping, with the pledge — So long as life should last — 'Twould be my dearest privilege My fate with her's to cast ! " " Her fate, my boys and girls, in you Was merged, and with it mine — Since Hostages, your mother, true. Gave me — their features thine — For fortune, fame, society — The gods of folly's chase. — Aye ! You're my soul's satiety — My care, my hope, my grace ! 130 MY HOSTAGES. " Fame's fleetly lost, when fairly won — And fairly won by few ; — Great wealth, by honest dealing, none Have gained, that I e'er knew; — And it is custom's phrase to call " Society" its masks — Its joys, those cloy — its scenes, those pall — Its aims, those honor tasks. " But you, my children ! You, my wife ! Leave me no wish for fame — No thought of wealth beyond the life Of HOME (of which the name Were, fitter, ' wealth ' than that which ends Possession with the breath,) — no thought or wish for aught amends Your love — surviving death! " bonboniMe. 131 BONBONIEKE. TO "NONPAREIL. Dream'st thou, little candj-girl, The melting glances from thine eje — Sweeter than all the sweets I buy — Spin my emotions to a whirl Thou might'st suppress With one caress ? Thy winsome hands my bon-bons bind, Pray let me, sweet, in mine enfold Just long enough to prove their hold On my poor heart, which spurs my mind To bold confess Thy power to bless ! j^o ? — Then, anon, should'st seek a friend From out the crowds that daily throng Thy mart — unmoved to love's wild song, Wilt kindly deign a carrier send With thy address ? — (My answer guess.) 132 BONBONliJRE. Fear not the " mallow's " thy dear fate, The "jujube's," or the " caramel's," Shouldst yield thy charms to love that wells From founts which yearn to estimate Aught may oppress Thee, and redress. Should I devour thee — with mine eyes, And with my lips — thy rose-bloom rain, And, love protesting, kiss again Thy hands, thy brow, thine all, sweet prize ! Could'st thou repress My tenderness ? Ah ! unto pleasures I would lead Thee, love, with me so en rapport, Our hearts should vie which most could court. Which best express, which gentlest plead The truths that bless This vale's duress. Altho' 'tis not in letters writ How souls — by passion moved — may beat; Nor can the lute's soft chord repeat The melodies with love are lit. — May they possess Thee, Conjuress ! A FEW CARBIER-MOULTINGS. 133 A FEW CARRIER-MOULTINGS. AGE MATTERS NOT TO ME. If I were only twenty-five, My little Nell could love me; But (as near fifty I arrive,) She simply says she likes me ! (Or is the word a blur?) Yet I love her, as I'm alive, And by the Powers above me ! If I were sixty, vain to strive The feeling hide that strikes me Whene'er I think of her ! DOLLY WOULD NOT WAIT. Ah ! Hapless hour — decreed The saddest of my fate, Since Dolly would not heed My spirit's bidding : Wait ! For in my heart there burned The fire of hope, divine — Inspired by love; — I yearned My Sun, to-day, might shine ! 134 A FEW CARRIEB-MOULTINGS. NO TIDING. Is she ailing? I am; for no tiding (Tho' due for two long days) of her From whose eye in vain I'd be hiding The feeling with which hope doth stir The innermost depth of my heart. And I watch ! And I wait ! with dull longing (The carrier's step may be heard,) To receive from the dear hand belonging To me (in my dreams) but one word — To soothe my tumultuous heart. A TANG-LEAF. The bright sea-beach of Long Branch; The breakers' peaceful woo; The grateful breeze; the guards' launch; The yachtsmen, and their crew; The man from town, from wild ranche; The children's playful coo; The changes — at each turn — Blanche, Ne'er rob my thoughts from you ! DEPENDING UPON CIRCUMSTANCES. 135 DEPENDING UPON CIKCUMSTANCES. A MARCH BALLAD. I know a little maiden Who grieved that she was born When all things seemed upbraiden By heaven — held in scorn By earth and sky, so laden With sleet from clouds forlorn, I blame her not, since Eden Her graces might adorn. This maiden sighed : " Why was I Born in the month so drear ? — I hope 'tis not because I Some penalty must fear From sins or crimes ancestral My generation shade With omens borne on mistral, 'Neath glooms nor break, nor fade. ** I pray it may not augur Ill-destiny for me — A life of sorrow, m auger The charm and peace I see, 136 DEPENDING UPON CIRCUMSTANCES. On every side, to others Vouchsafed in some degree; — Alas ! This March air smothers Joy and expectancy ! " When thus the maid had spoken, I took her hand in mine — A moment seized (ere broken Her current) to entwine Her waist, and gently press her My heart on — whisp'ring arch: " She — willing I'd caress her — Must have been born in March. " She coyly pshawed and pouted; But I my theme pursued: " The month must not be scouted When thou first chirped and cooed. And know thee more : — If routed, Poor March, not I had wooed This small white hand, or doubted If e'er thou wouldst I should." " In March ! — Thou born in March, sir?* My friend, protestful, asked; — (The winds you've seen the larch stir; With equal grace, when tasked DEPENDING UPON CIRCUMSTANCES. 137 My love to list', and answer — In altered tones, she plead:) " March storms, near thee, enchant, sir; — I knew not what I said ! " " Aye, sweet ! " I added, * ' Cases Are changed by circumstance ' — Since hinge on fickle bases All incidents of chance. So things, if missed their places. Will seem perplexed, perverse; And ever lost are traces Of hearts — no love to nurse. " The soul — and not the season- Hath faculty of tears; The pulse — without a reason Beats joy, defies the years. — June, without thee, were dreary. Whilst March, near thee, is heaven. My life, thou guiding, cheery Wakes; — vanished thou, 'twere riven." 138 A VALENTINE. A VALENTINE. Of love accept an avalanche — Not borne on glaciers chill — But warming with caresses, Blanche, Thy heart and soul to thrill — Sweet currents burning to bestow On lips of cherry hue, On eyes that melt, and flash, and glow,. On dainty hands that do — With grace — what love did beg requite- The single favor mine, Because, perhaps, the first — to write A name — dear, dearest, Thine — Made now My Valentine. THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 139 VI. Or wild caprices, with their fumes And vapors, wierdly glow Above the hum of labor's looms, Yet far the stars below — In frolic verse, or rollic rhymes. Wild warbles fife, or freaks Fantastically ring on chimes, 'Mid laughter's gleeful shrieks. A Poet's Introspect (Page I9>. THE PORTENT. 141 THE PORTENT. So cheeringly she met him at the gate — As if his greeting she could hardly wait, And held, as her fond wont, in former time. To his her lips — sweet-perfumed, as with thyme, He thought regrets had come to his defense. Her heart resolved — with her recovered sense — To make his life less wretched than before — To show, earth held for him some peace in store. A dinner, such as known he doted on. Lay spread so daintily, so noted on Its dishes care to please his appetite. He feJt as if had entered a new light Upon his wedded fate, 'shamed to have learned. So late, how his glum shade and speech were turned Forgivingly in the remembrance kind Of her, to whose 'rapt int'rest he so blind. 142 THE PORTENT. And such an evening! Taper fingers dwelt So softly on the organ's keys, he felt Borne down the past, beyond their honeymoon, Reminded of its ending — all too soon — For reason, he, impulsive, could not mold To her*s his abrupt ways, could not unfold, Weeks, months ago, the blossom — see how sweet ! From her dear heart exhaling love complete. And when the morning dawned, his angel rose Long ere he could his torpid lids unclose. Descended, from the breakfast-room her voice Invited him to fruit — rare, ripe and choice, Yet whetted more his palate by her sigh At sorrow he so soon must bid good-bye. Mournful, she kissed adieu, in his her hand. When, struck her thought, as by a magic wand, She spake: " To-moiTOw, sweet, is opening-day. You'll not expect me, love, at home to stay? — And may I have another hundred ? Say ! " TWO ANTIQUARIAN MODELS. 143 TWO ANTIQUARIAN MODELS. APROPOS, HOWEVEE, OF ALL AGES ANI/ GENERATIONS. THE FIRST. HIS ST. valentine's ODE— TO HIS GRANDSON. She purred so naively, my weak heart A tender palpitation felt; But when I stroked her, in good part. She scratched, and raised a cruel welt — The Cat ! So cunningly and soft she stole. My earnest moods and aims despite, Into my humors, that my soul Revolted at her vicious bite — The Serpent! For every whim she wheedled me; Yet when meek I would humbly ask A grain of human sympathy. She'd kick, or balk it — as a task, — The Mule ! Now, if you would all these combine Of Eve's known graces, choose, you fool, A maid — to merge your fate condign. And thenceforth brook the fickle rule Of cat, of serpent and of mule. 144 TWO ANTIQUARIAN MODELS. THE SECOND. HER ST. valentine's ODE — TO HER GRAND-DAUGHTER. Lone and silent he reposes, With such cahn insouciance, That his bed seems one of roses 'Till he grunts — and breaks the trance — The Hog! Sinisterly he approaches, And the careless list'ner fills With the plaints a suitor broaches When he coos — 'till dart his quills — The Porcupine ! By his own voice thrill'd with rapture, Wildly cackles he : " I'll give Every dollar I can capture For my service if you'll live ! — " The Goose ! Ne'ermore seek, through long instalments, Romance here condensed in bulk; If you'd feel this life's enthralments With acuteness, draw some hulk From the lottery of Hymen, On love's altar slip the noose. And be hence reminded by men Of hog, porcupine and goose ! JENNIE BRADSHAW. US JENNIE BKADSHAW. g I. " Oil ! who was that girl, so dashing and blithe, Her features so charming and form so lithe, Of the hazel eye and roseate cheek. With an air of pride and a dash of pique, And the 'witching smile of a gay coquette ? — • Oh ! answer; who is this maid that I met — That with you in the private-box I saw, A night or two since at the opera ? " I replied : " Tom, lovely Miss Jennie Bradshaw." II. "Who was that damsel, so gentle and sad. So queenly in air, and tastefully clad. With the melting brown orb, of hueless cheek, So noble in carriage, and yet so meek, With a seraph's glance, and an angel's smile — Full of expression and free from guile ? — Oh ! who was this maiden I saw with you. Arm-in-arm, promenading the avenue ? " "Ah! Ned, she is peerless Miss Jennie Brad- shaw." ni. " Who was that maid at the Park, by-the-bye. Of the sweet modest face and swimming blue eye, U6 JENNIE BRADS HAW. With daintiest form and a dimpled cheek, And a gypsy hat, and the charming freak Of a merry laugh, whose echo yet thrills Through the ' Ramble's ' groves and miniature hiUs In memory, since that lovely day ? — Oh ! who is this lass, my good fellow, say ? " — "Dear Jack, she's celestial Miss Jennie Brad- shaw." IV. " Hold on ! " cried Sol, " I've a question to ask: "Who was she, pray, in the dark-velvet basque. That entered the church last evening with you. And with whom you were seated in Deacon Job's pew? She wore golden curls that shaded a face Refulgent with heaverJy love and grace; And her eye — an intelligent, beaming gray — Made cheerful her smile, and winsome her way?" — "Why, Sol! My divinity, Jennie Bradshaw." V. To every query of whom he saw With me, I would answer: " Jennie Bradshaw;" Whene'er the home-folks asked: "Whither to- night?" JENNIE BRADSHAW. 147 Jennie Bradshaw was the cause of my flight; In chui'ch, at the theatre, or soiree, On the road, the avenue, or Broadway, In the Park, at the opera, ever the same — I always repeated that chosen name, Eesponding: "The darling! Miss Jennie Brad- shaw." VI. Hence, many an unwitting lass received This innocent christening, and ne'er believed That thus her charms or faults were united To Jennie, whom the boys swore I had pHghted, Because, whenever the question was made, I repeatedly answer'd the self-same maid— And her name had ever from doubt been free. But that one sad night, to supper with me I invited some friends who'd met '* Jennie Brad- shaw." vn. " Jennie Bradshaw has a sweet hazel eye," Commenced chum Tom, with a wink and a sigh; " Not hazel," hints Ned; « you mean a sad black:" " You're both wrong, boys; it's a soft blue," says Jack: " It's gray ! " cries Sol; " for I'U never forget Her pious glance in the church that I met."— 148 JENNIE BRADSHAW, Thus, at my board, the discussion arose, 'Till at length, from mouth to mouth the cry goes: " Let's have a description of Jennie Bradshaw! " VIII. " Dear Jennie's a myth," I finally spoke: " There's no use longer concealing the joke, — That when my friends have, importunate, tried To learn the name of the girl at my side. Or the name of the lass with whom I've spent The morning or eve, evasive I've sent Them all, sincerely believing the same — That this of my rhyme is my charmer's name. — So, boys, fill your bumpers; here's 'Jennie Brad- shaw!'" IX. Without drawing the moral my story presents, I'll keep you a moment, to say that from thence. From the night of our supper to this of my rhyme. When I've been met with a lass, every time That I leave my door for a quiet call, I witness a smile, or a laugh in the haU. — My friends, with a grin or nudge by the way, Will point to the girl by my side, and say: " Prolific and charming Miss Jennie Bradshaw ! " i XONTIREL REVISED. U9 XONTIEEL REVISED ; h OR THE GARRET IMP. Being the Medley of an Opera Bouffe ** Artist" — in an ascend- ing scale, of " Five Flats " and a *• Sharp." Suggested (See Note h, Appendix,) by the original Xontirel, of Professor Sherwood, to whom this Revision is sympathetically inscribed. PROEM. My dear old Ned, So long thou'st plead For immortality, I mend thy verse, (Forfend thy curse ! ) And kindly give it thee — True glory give By letting live Thy muse — inspired by beer — On the same page Where rum doth rage And whiskey chanticleer. Would I might know, (When read below, How " highest proof " can prate,) Rochester lush And attic mush Thoul't flee for spirits " straight — ' 150 XONTIREL REVISED, Henceforth repress Thy mal-address From purely sacred themes; Nor seek for points, In opium-joints, With which to dress thy dreams; Me trust to tell Thy rhyming spell. In heaven, thou, or hell; Thy moods dispel, Thy kernels shell. Thy over bleatings quell; Yet reproduce. So may deduce The reader, by their smell. Good liquor 'tis That makes the fiz In which thy songs revel. TEXT. PRELUDE. A warbUng imp escaped, one night. His keeper's surveillance, And slid the rails — from the fourth flight. Where he was lodged (by chance) XONTIREL REVISED, 151 In the rooms of the janitress. And not (as wont) the " bars" Behind — his " precinct's" choice address For singing at '* the stars." Eluding thus (his mistress japed,) His bed — late pressed by dreams Of elephants, in snake-skins draped, Aflame at all the seams, By monkeys and red gnomes bestrode, . A-vomiting green rats, — Our imp forgot why he abode Above the first four " flats." With that insatiate appetite That never can be soothed. When tasted once the bottle-sprite And in his meshes toothed. Like all Apollo's offspring. Who think their talents lead To harrowing a fiddle-string Or piping on a reed. Our imp, with gripeful longing, sought The nearest beer-saloon, A dozen brimming schooners bought And stowed in his " galleon;" 152 XONTIREL REVISED. Then ambling from the portico Of that respected school Where statecraft germs its embryo And genius apes the fool — In maudlin state his " hermitage" Meander'd to regain, ("With the natural advantage Old topers oft' attain,) Arriving (through well- tutored " scent,") Upon the very spot He aimed at — (else by Accident, The lode-star of the Sot.) I THE SCORK FLAT ONE. "With hands, wild-clutching fore and aft, He rang at " flat " the first. — The master, answering, swore — ^then laughed To see the plight his thirst, Unwatched, had got his neighbor in — Detained him at the door. And bade him " pull " a flask of gin Till he could " pull " no more. XONTIREL REVISED. 153 FLAT TWO. Then up the stairs our craving imp Ascended to the floor Of number two — where — tired and limp — He laid him down — to snore; The lodgers here his slumbers broke, To ply him with Bourbon — So long it made him writhe and choke — Ere frisk'ly urged him on. FLAT THREE. With fuddled pace, our imp next came To landing number three, So shuffling, like a traveler lame, A hoodlum peered to see — His papa told — what brewed the noise. When he from horn — quite handy, (Kept ever near to " treat the boys,") His guest engorged with brandy. FLAT FOUR. Sighing: " Excelsior ! " on his road Our champion marched 'till — Thump ! On loft the fourth, with his mixed load, He fell — a huddled dump. — The mistress, here, some Santa Cruz Invoked to help the cause 154 XONTIREL REVISED. Of the martyr brave, who dared abuse Material's cold laws. Revived, our hero stumbled — groaned; — Now fell — and madly kicked; — Then, flound'ring, cursed; and spat, and moaned; — Next, lurching, reeled — and licked His lips, as if a single drop Lost, might his end defeat — Not to succumb before the top, And gravitation cheat. FLAT FIVE. Alas ! The misery freighting down Our Imp, at number five. Outrivaled that of Sabine town With Roman youth alive. Or western mart by flood surprised. Or bathers seized with cramps, Or cooks with senses first apprised How fires are ht with lamps. The Jim-jams' wild dehrium Invaded the fifth " flat "— Our artist goaded with the hum Of beetle — miou of cat. XONTIREL REVISED. 15& Sad hoots of melancholy owls, The grating squeal of rats, The donkey's bray, the tiger's growls, The buzzing flight of bats. He picked at bugs — that never crawled; 'Wailed blows — that never struck; Thought he was swimming — when he sprawled; His food abhorred — as muck; His nurse fled from — as a baboon That burned for his embrace; The gas-jet bayed at — for the moon; With witches ran a race. THE SHARP. The last, and worst of all the 'plaints Our tortured imp assailed, 'Mid capers, tantrums, wretched faints — • Most sadly to be wailed; He thought the Jew, in " flat " the first, The Frenchman of the second, Were " English " vampyres — blood athirst — Who on his corse had reckoned. The Em'rald lodger, in the third. The Dutchman in " flat " four, By British gold he dreamed he heard Enticed to rasp his gore; — 156 XONTIREL REVISED. So he whined: " Tho' bred in Boston, " I'm not American ! " See ! I'm English ! For I'm lost on "The scores of Sullivan ! " Then he'd sing: " I am the Devil ! " I rule the shades of Hell ! "X-0-N-T-I-K-E-L "Let hence be made to spell " My name, which shakes the earth and sky — " Invokes the Demon's cry: " Kum ! Whiskey! Brandy ! Gin ! We're dry ! " "Nelly! Nell, Oh!— Knell, aye! " Feb. 18th, 1884. THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 157 ^XX. Or satire, musing Damascene, Hypocri sy lays bare, And falsehood pricks with blade so keen That honesty seems fair. Sweet virtue for a moment blest — Alike for drones and plods, Rare truth aroused from stubborn rest — The scale of justice God's. A PoeVs Introspect, (Page 19J. AMONG THE RECRUITS. 159 AMONG THE RECEUITS. k I. I donned my hat, when read the news, And 'mong the soldiers took a cruise. I crossed the park, where spread the camp — Recruits heard curse, in quarters cramp — At mess espied them munch stale pork And hard-tack, without knife or fork — Caught speech of distant homes, when wept A few, whilst others fumed or slept; — Thence, as from charnel-house, I crept. II. Threading, anon, the noisy street. My sight I doubted when 'twould greet — The first — Tom Smith, adown whose pants Coursed a stripe that shocked my glance. "With woeful stare, I scanned his clothes, Exclaimed: "Poor Tom, where got you those ? *' I signed while fuddled," he replied — As, waving an adieu, he sighed. And I, reflective, onward hied. III. Before I'd walked another block, I felt a poke from musket-stock; 160 AMONG THE RECRUITS. And Bradshaw, ever brimming fun, Hailed me with his burnished gun — To my grave asking: " What it meant," Rejoined: "I hadn't left a cent; *' My business dead, no more could find; " My pockets empty, fled my mind; " In fit of sheer despair I signed." IV. I wished Jack Bradshaw best of cheer. And parting — not without a tear. Had bare renewed my promenade Ere on my arm a grasp was laid, And Johnson, a la militaire, Saluted me with pompous air — Responded to my question why He left his home — perhajDS to die : " D'ye see these epaulettes, my eye ? " V. Leaving Johnson, arms akimbo. Strutting in his hotel window, I would have sped my way through town. But was arrested by old Brown. — Brown has a family and wife — The last a torment to his life. AMONG THE RECRUITS. 161 Anent I spake, he cried: " From you Vain to conceal, my wife's a shrew. — Pray ! save enlist, what could I do ? " VI. After, came Jones — Brown's former clerk — Embreeched and turban'd like a Turk. The while I paused, he screwed his eye As if he might, but would not cry. His face was pale, his form was bowed. And on his forehead sate a cloud. I'd not revert to — well I knew — What made the fellow look so blue : Tho' she'd proved false, his love ivastrue f VII Of the many " braves " I've met, Self-confessed stands each, as yet, He 'listed desperate or drunk, From thwarted love or business sunk, For commission, or subsistence Or to 'scape a damned existence. — While breath with smoke or liquor teemed. He brooding, weak, or thoughtless seemed, And ne'er of coming battle dreamed. 162 THE MERCENARY WOMAN. THE MEECENARY WOMAN, m She seemed so fresh, so bright, so pure. When first I scanned her face, I could have sworn — I felt so sure — Her heart was in its place; But ere we could our views exchange On half a dozen themes, I found she was quite out of range Of my poetic dreams. I did imagine hers might be A sympathetic heart — Her eyehds drooped so pensively, So quick the red did start To cheek and brow whene'er I spake Of dear domestic things ; She seemed — truth owned — to almost make Me doubt less she wore wings. Soft, melting eye, and gentlest tone; Complexion of the rose ; With bust of Hebe, and such a zone As waist of nymph might close ; How commonplace they all did seem, When dropping but a phrase, She suddenly dispelled my dream — My momentary daze ! THE MERCENARY WOMAN. 163 A wretched sentiment, expressed Through beauty's cherry pout; A look, when cruelly impressed On features souls might rout; An act or movement, to denote The face is but a mask. The soft voice but a syren's note Who'll my conclusion ask '? My pretty guest did but observe: "We never could agree; My style he could not well preserve. He was so poor, you see." Yet, that one thought, with its context Of mercenary pride, Led me to pray, the woman next I met, her greed might hide. Indeed, cracked tones and crippled form, And features creased with care — So long as under all glows warm A heart — seem far more fair Than faultless figure, mellow strain, Or dimpled cheek, bright-hued, A woman masking— cold and vain. With lucre's thirst imbued. 164 HE CAN PLAY ON THE PIANO. HE CAN PLAY ON THE PIANO. He's a dwarfish, curly fellow, Cannot brew, or baste, or knead, Plow or reap the fallow mead, Hoe or plant the yielding seed, Delve or trade, indite or plead; — Then, — why thus his presence bellow ? Charon's muses cannot help it; For know, this bright icono (Like leper in a bagnio. Or kite on isle guano,) Has forte — at the piano. — " Drown his thrum ! " The styx dogs yelp it ! He can play on the piano; But his list'ners ! — Can they bide Agonizing strains that tide O'er the keys, where wildly stride Art's i^are touches ? — They'll decide, With me : Give praise morgano ! ODE TO RICHMOND HILL. 165 ODE TO RICHMOND HILL.p A cozy hamlet — nestling 'mid dwarf hills And vales of green, where each toy cot doth vie With its companion, the perspective fills. To bring a welcome contrast to the eye Long Island's stretch and glare of plain so tire ; — Behold the site of calculation's choice, To court from crowded mart — to buy or hire — With least assistance from a broker's voice ! Dread Ague's Home ! Your charms had often broke My dull, flat ride through Nassau's hungry sands, Upon its tramway famed for dusts that choke, And gift of enterprise that understands The art of making human holacausts And changing schedules without note or rule. — Ah ! Spite of heads (that warned) of deeper frosts, You caught my eye, and sold me for a fool ! Six weeks of fatal dreaming o'er a vale 'Mid Richmond's hills, that picturesquely rise. Gave me experience to tell a tale Illustrative of how e'en nature lies — How not by word of lip alone, or sign. May man, or beast, or reptile cheat the sense; But how earth's surface, when its garb divine, May breed malaria and pestilence. 166 ODE TO RICHMOND HILL. Oh ! mad'ning headache, never felt before ! Chills — creeping first the spine, to later tear Through ev'ry fibre — to the body's core. Each limb and member, organ, tooth and hair Astounding with a shake that, quiv'ring, leaps 80 wildly and convulsively, the frame Seems but a puppet, which the Ague keeps. To dance o'er ice — then cast abrupt in flame ! Ere the last flicker — the expiring rasp — From arctic waves hath fled its victim's groan, The vice of fever closes with a grasp Of hot malevolence, and seeks the bone Beneath to crisp, while yet the flesh intact — To hang, and draw, and quarter, 'fore the breath Be quite expired — to kee23 the joints enwracked, Brain fired, and ev'ry sense imploring death ! False Eichmond Hill ! Of earth — delusive Hell ! Let artists hover near, and hue thee well; Let agents advertise thy charms, and tell How balm thy clear ozone— how cheap to dwell Where ev'ry room with water, where the bell For school and service echoes through the dell! — Praise God, who kindly bade me say : Farewell To thee, ere prematurely rung my knell ! ODE TO RICHMOND HILL. 167 Praise God for the incendiary toa'ch That Hghted me from malady to health ! What reck, tho' lit by him Hell's fires now scorch, Since guiding me from misery to wealth ? — What tho' devoured my work of toilsome years, Since lost, therewith, the errors age might shame ? — Aye! Well destroyed youth's labor, traced with tears — Dried by reflection's due contempt for fame ! Have you an enemy whose blood you'd still With poisons leading slowly to the grave ?— With viruses accurse the life, then kill By agency so sinister the brave — In war — of it have greater dread than steel ?— Guide him upon the road that flaunts the bill: " Cheap homes ! " His optics fascinate ! The wheel Of speculation's grist — at Kichmond Hill — Allure him 'neath ! And gloat how he shall feel When lapsing into Fever from a Chill. 168 GREAT GOD, LITTLE MAN. GREAT GOD, LITTLE MAN. q It is the Hour — through its analogies — that brings Us closely home, to-day, with History's page, on wings Electric — heralding afar, from clime to cUme, How fitly wild ambition may succumb to crime — The story, hoar, reviving of man's errant life Weighed with the microbes in his bitter, mimic strife To shape events and ends — to wield the sword of Fate.— Again we hear the tocsin sounding — always late, Tho' oft'nest rung : Naught, save Jehovah, can be Great ! He only marshals Nature, Sequence and the State ! July 2, 1881. SACREDLY INVESTED 169 SACREDLY INVESTED. A Million Dollars ! — They would yield, At four per cent, (the ruling rate Since Billionaires have won " the field " From freedom's sway, and mold the State,) Forty thousand dollars yearly — Tho' said principal now bears naught Save that piety which, queerly, Thinks " put," " call," and " straddle " bought For " futures " can be, in God's Temple. The Congregation must have deemed Their Million well invested, since The Sal'ry of their Mouthpiece seemed A bagatelle — altho' a Prince Whose titles (in more than one land) Are at a discount, would be glad Of per annum Twenty Thousand Him to save from the Very Bad. — An eleemoosinary sample. Then, again, the Undertaker, (And his satellites — the ushers,) " Classic " choir, and organ-slaker, And that band of milk-and-mushers 170 SACREDLY INVESTED. Yclept as " trustees," " deacons," "elders," With the sev'ral " incidentals " — Not omitting the waste gilders Charged to "tracts " and "fundamentals," — Make Salvation quite a Gamble. Calculate the problem, slowly: — Ninety thousand dollars, you'll find, Mark the " chips " so high, the Lowly — (If they think the Eyes of God blind By the spire gold has erected. Or from heaven all save pew own. As from church, by saints ejected — ) View their " chance " a very rue one. — So the humble, Sundays, ramble. " Pshaw I Damn the humble ! Why heed we Misery, hunger, want or thirst Out of wealth's pale ? " — Gold speaking thus, 'curst Deems his priest faith meek, barefooted, And God's Ministry, 'neath sky's dome — 'Curst all piety not rooted. Hard and cold, to the stones that tomb Hundreds now dead For want of bread ! Hymns he : " Scramble ! All's a gamble ! " TO MY CRITIC. 171 TO MY CRITIC. Are you, whose pen would annotate a text of mine, By judgment guided one whit riper — more divine Than other men's ? Whose gift the better to select, Than you, the words should dress your thought ? Would you reflect My moods, then, or my whims ? Sooth grant, with my sense none Can phrase or weld accordantly as I have done, Since no machine doth work like mine of Jove's in- voice — Or will, so long as Procreation's Pow'rs rejoice. My mold distinct from your's as David's from St Mark's — As Milton's from Dean Swift's, or Scott's or Jared Sparks' — As Byron's, Bolingbroke's, or Goldsmith's from Montaigne's — As Pope's, or Sheridan's, or Lamb's from G. F. Train's — 172 TO MY CRITIC. ki& Bulwer's, or as Thackeray's from Joaquin Mil- ler's, Or any prosing screed's, or rhyming caterpillar's — Of all the medley memory may nimbly trill, From Clio's phalanx, life and legend leave us still. Therefore, my bent no worldling may presume en- join To change old words, remodel new, or phrases coin From my impress, to give a ghmmer of the loin The brain, called mine, doth guide, or brain my loin doth run — (No matter where to end, or wherefore either spun,) The loin and brain my lot — than those of other men More true to me — of equal use and worth, I ken. To the Occasion First, the Cause of them and me. Or Aim that squirms life's puppets in the span or sea Of Jove's Infinitude. To me, at least, mine bring More pleasure than from other web or woof may spring — More certainly than his whose pastime is to sting, And not to heal, the suffring sense — of blunders ring TO MY CRITIC. 173 The birth — for festers root — for flowers snuff that stale — For stenches grope and ferret — balms refuse in- hale. — Such will full tribute pay his morbid spleen's de- mand — His humid exudations spread with rancorous hand O'er my free pages, tributary to his brand Not less than to the reader who shall, keen, descry Herein a target for grim satire's mockery; Or to the heart, indulgent, smiles, or laughs in glee At conning stanzas that affect it mirthfully; Or to responsive thought, from which my verse shall call Forth grateful echoes; or to currents, found in all So varying with humors, circumstances, years, They'll move some to reflection, some to jests, some sneers. Alas ! Sir Gloatf ul Critic ? How could you survive, Except, behold ! the opportunities arrive (As, now and then, rash amateurs rush into print,) To pen your variations on the threadbare hint — Your theme : " A book's a book, altho' there's noth- ing in't ? " 174 TO MY CRITIC. Indeed, so often troped and cited, without stint. By you this pregnant judgment on the unfledged scribe Dare brook your with'ring censure, stricture, glance or gibe, 'Twould be your blazoned motto, and surmount your crest K heraldry had not been flouted, put to rest With other barb'rous relics of earth's feudal age. As critics will be, in the next, who carp and rage Amid the scandals mark our growing daily page. Meanwhile, Jove save your shadow for the place it fits— As truly your's as clown's or drudge's, bard's or wit's Are their's respectively. As c^ear, as due, your right As an appendix to my mime of Pean's flight To hang your knotted lash, as my own restless boy's To tail the Japan hawk with which he, spor'ive, toys,— Especially, since each his plaything so enjoys TO MY CRITIC. 175 To see cavorting in the winds that sweep the sky — The boy, because he'd have his captive soar and fly Beyond the stars — if storms might wait and cord might last; And you, my critic, that a gale might swell — to blast Your kite, and drive it earthward — to be thrust Mid' briars, or swamps, or stones, or trampled in the dust. My conscience frank and free, contentedly I wait Each new diversion, frown, crank, freak or turn of fate — As I have humbly, hap'ly learned to do, of late. Invoking Jove may suffer you to wisely rate My Lays, as they shall merit, in His broad estate — Assessed and taxed, according as they may belong To marsh or fallow — with His harvest land along. Or rankling His salt-meadow — and not worth a song. I THE LAYS OF A BOHEMIAN. 177 NOTES a. (Page 32.) First printed in the American Art Journal, Sep- tember 17, 1881. b. (Page 54.) "My Spring is Here" was first published in the N. Y. Daily Graphic, March 22, 1884. c. (Page 72.) This poem originally appeared in the American Art Journal, ]\xne 2$, 1881. With the exceptions noted below (and a few others unnecessary to here particularize), '* My Sanctum " is the author's earliest metrical essay contained in these pages. Its interest may, possibly, seem confined to his surroundings, or personal to his situation, at the time of its appearance — when his offices (as well Sanctum, or study, ) pleasantly faced Union Square on the west. A congenial neighbor, at the period referred to, was Mr. Thorns, the proprietor of the Art Journal — to whose publication ' ' M v Sanctum " was naturally contributed. d. (Page 80.) "In Memoriam " was an impromptu (tho' very inadequate) tribute to the memory of Miss AHce C. Earl, formerly Secretary to the author, who died, of hereditary consumption, on September nth, 1884, and whose obsequies were observed from her late home, in Newark, N. J., on the 14th of the same month. Within two years prior to her decease, both of Miss Earl's par- ents had succumbed to the same dread malady ; so that her death may be said to have been pre-determined, no less than premature. f. (Page 114.) This trifle was originally published in 1865— tho' among the earliest of the writer's essays at versification; and it is row accessible through its having been cut from print and pre- served in the scrap-book collection of a friend. fj. (Page 145.) "Jennie Bradshaw," produced first in the N. Y. Weekly Mercury, in June, 1861. is accessible under circumstances similar to those last above mentioned. 178 NOTES. h. (Page 149.) "XoNTiREL Revised," — a purely local, if not per- sonal, jeu d'esprii, first printed (in part) in the Art Journal, in February, 1884 — was filed by the author with his " translations," and omitted (as of that class) from the first edition of his Lays. His small constituency ("friends") have insisted it to be too valuable an emendation of the original Beor-legh, however, to be sacrificed ; and in deference to their judgment, it is preserved. Of Professor Sherwood's feet (or feat) in the genuine Saxon Beor-gewrit, our version claims to be simply a crude ' ' adaptation ' ' (to employ the broadest term qualifying changes from a rhythmical ancient dialect into our modern discordant American slang.) The following is the original " Xontirel," as it appeared (before our " Revision ") in the Rochester {N. Y.) Union and Advertiser : XONTIREL. A Poem of Five Flats. By Edgar H. Sherv^ood A sprite of curiosity, We will call him Xontirel, Took a tumble from the sky one night. As we propose to tell; Alighting near a block moderne. Where household gods abound, He entered at the portals. Just to have a look around. SECOND FLAT. Dispers't through mellow-lighted rooms Of curious wares suggesting tombs, He found a most confusing mass, Of furniture and ancient glass. There, in one niche, prone on his back, The collector of this bric-a-brac. Lay slumbering in a mummy case. Marked: "English, as allelse of Grace." FIRST FLAT. Ah ! what a sight here met his gaze, Of brilliance and of light, Of Dudes and Dudesses in force, All in pure English plight; Taking just a peep at these. Through a comprehensive glance, He passes to the flight above To see— what next, perchance. THIRD FLAT. A scene more common than the last Attracted Xontirel; The furnishing was plain Eastlake, Though mostly worn quite well; But the people were the feature here. And all so English, too. For they spake, as alone New Yorker can, Of the presumptive "parvenu," NOTES. 179 tPOURTH FLAT FIFTH FLAT. The last but one of all these flights The sprite has almost gone his rounds; Presents a compo-mix; He nears the attic high, St. Louis folks, with alleged feet. But pauses at one lonely door, Chicagoans, with their chics. As he hears a dubious sigh; And many others congregate, 'Tis a cultured, and a Boston man, AUe same Melican man, Classical, gifted and wan, Biding their opportunity Earnestly toiling to make a score To be as English as they can. A la Gilbert and Sullivan. Feb. 13th, 1884. Our revision of the fore-going Beor wail is so literal that (like the aloe, which now enters so extensively into all Beor "compo-mix- tures,")it retains idioms (or properties) inseparable from the primi- tive text. It would be impossible to fairly elucidate " Xontirel," or its " Revision " by notes ; and there is no space in an octavo edition for diagrams, which could alone do justice to a walj of such vague general proportions. It may be doubtful, again, if the paroxysm of a ten minutes revisional gripe, after dinner, should be annotated, except (in the present mstance) to indicate the correlation of the agonized retch: — 'Nelly! Nell, oh!" — in the last line of the " Revision," to the distressed condition of the " gifted and wan " occupant of the fifth flat, in the original Beor-legh. k. (Page 159.) "Among THE Recruits" was published in the N.Y. Sunday Times, in the summer of 186 1, when the fever of patriotism burned at so high a degree that it was deemed a necessary precau- tion, by the manager of that paper, to editorially disavow all respon- sibility for its expressions. A few incidents to its appearance (which might be historically interesting and pertinent, in other connections,) it is not required to detail here. The rhymes (for they may, at least, be so designated,) annotated /, g and k, are (with the exception of his first metrical composition —in August, 1856.) the author's only attempt at versification prior to 1881, which have been preserved. The exception parenthesized —called "The Mission Priest"— was printed in the Mercwy, of which the literary department was conducted by Mr. Newell (Or- pheus C. Ker,) in 1861. Indeed, with these exceptions, all the earlier offspring of the author's muse (as well as prose 180 NOTES. manuscript, and the plans or germs of verse,) were destroyed by conflagration, in the month of April, 1878. His verses, at that time lost, were a small part of the writer's accumulated work— literature having been formerly his avocation for a livelihood. These state- ments are made, not in any mood of regret, but as matters of fact — to which maybe added: With the three exceptions above indicated, the verses contained in this volume are published— as they were written — for the author's personal diversion, as will (or may have been) inferred from their tone and substance, or their want of either or both. And with the exceptions annotated, none of the verses herein contained have ever before appeared in published form or print. m. (Page 162.) "The Mercenary Woman " first appeared in the American Art Journal, of December 10, 1881. p. (Page 165.) The "Ode to Richmond Hill" (Long Island's fever and ague focus), which was omitted from the first edition of these Lays, is here included, to gratify the suggestions of friends that the author should denote the circumstance owing to which his collec- tion is wanting of verses that formerly invited their kind interest and criticism. The circumstance is indicated in the seventh stanza of this Ode, referring to the incident of the Fire, in April, 1878, when, by the torch of an Incendiary, the writer was despoiled of a choice li- brary, a number of valuable literary souvenirs, and the fruit of nearly ten years' labor with his pen. The severe experience of this calamity has been more than compensated, however, by his escape from farther ravages (than had attended l^s experience at Richmond Hill, in the course of two years immediately preceding,) from the most malign disorder that ever afflicted the human or brute anatomy. The reader who has survived a domicil upon soil to which the Fever and Ague is indigenous — where the seeds of malaria are fixed by Divine Decree, and propagated by natural causes — can appreciate the inspiration of the author's muse, tho' faintly sung his gratitude to God, at having survived a residence at Richmond Hill q (Page 168.) Impromptu lines upon hearing the announcement of President Garfield's assassination, July 2, 1881. "^Y^m m