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 ! LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.^ 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
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THE 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE SUN 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BY WATT. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 «rv\ 
 
 W. C. KING & CO., Publishers, 
 
 SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 1886. 
 
>W3 ? 
 
 m 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 
 
 By 
 
 vfTv. 
 
 WATSON, frj A^tva^WJU y\M^ 
 
 1 
 
 [n the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
 -Y 
 
 (/A^ 
 
 
'^^- 
 
 INSCRIBKD 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AS A TOKEN OF LOVE AND THANKFULNESS 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER, 
 
 I. B. W. 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Children of the Sun, 9 
 
 Very Long, • • • • • . • 47 
 
 Modern Fidelity, 49 
 
 Macdonald's Lament 54 
 
 The Comet, . • 57 
 
 Bee Eye's Address to His Sister, 6i 
 
 Pedagogical Cogitations, 63 
 
 Farewell, 65 
 
 Lament for Davy dl 
 
 Maggie, 70 
 
 COLLEGE POEMS. 
 
 That Pianay, 1^ 
 
 Sam and the Organ Grinder, 78 
 
 The Freshman's Monody, . . . . . . .80 
 
 The Freshman's Story, 84 
 
 The Freshman and the Horse, 89 
 
 The Junior's Farewell to Greek, . . . . -93 
 
 Sandy's Lindon 98 
 
 Houlton Academy, 100 
 
^^^^' 
 
 PUBIvISHKRS' NOTE. 
 
 We sand forth this httle vdIuihej hrmly he- 
 hEving that it ^^ill find a placE in ths haniES 
 and hEarts nf the pEoplE^ whsrs it will bE treas- 
 nrEd far its trnE AA/nrth, 
 
 W, C, KIKG- & CD. 
 
 Springfield, IVtass. 
 1886. 
 
 
 ^^iM^^- ■ * 
 
 ,^^w^^r: ^ '^'^ 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 /T\0 him who traverses old ocean's plain, 
 
 And braves the dangers of his wide domain, 
 In all the world wherever he may go 
 Where, mountains rise and foamy torrents flow, 
 From ocean's wave approaching any strand, 
 No picture rises more sublimely grand 
 Than that unfolded to the sailor's view 
 From the far waves of the Pacific blue, 
 Who sees in panoramic view unfurled 
 A southern fragment of the western world. 
 Colossal mountains o'er the waters rise 
 In rugged contour on the eastern skies, 
 
lO THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 Peak after peak, to north and south they lay, 
 
 Until remotely dim and far away, 
 
 Outlined, uncertain, filmy, and fair, 
 
 The shadowy specters of the lower air, 
 
 When distance her weird penciling has given, 
 
 They mingle with the azure lints of heaven. 
 
 A wondrous continent, where Nature's hand 
 
 Hath wrought in scale magnificent and grand; 
 
 Where noblest rivers of a planet pour 
 
 Their mighty waters on Atlantic's shore, 
 
 Where forests aboriginal extend 
 
 So many leagues they seem without an end. 
 
 The giant mangrove spreads his branches wide, 
 
 The cocoa, cinchona, and palm beside. 
 
 Through their dense covering, matted, gnarled, and gray 
 
 The cheering sunbeam never finds its way. 
 
 Around their trunks fantastically twine 
 
 The tangled network of the flowering vine. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. I f 
 
 The supple jaguar dashes through the toils, 
 The giant boa twines his massy coils, 
 And varied Nature in an artless mood 
 Reigns undisputed in her solitude. 
 
 Adown the Andes, where the mighty chain 
 In two Cordilleras is rent in twain ; 
 Between its masses sweeping far away 
 A mountain valley in its beauty lay. 
 The fairest spot a continent has known, 
 It claims a climate that is alsl its own. 
 While burning summer lies upon the plain, 
 Where stately palms are bordering the main, 
 And swaying vines and feathery cocoa trees 
 Wave their light pinions to the ocean breeze ; 
 While winter muffles as a gloomy shroud 
 Sierra's summits far above the cloud, 
 Where sunlight flashes on eternal snow 
 
12 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 Unchanged, untrodden, while the ages flow, 
 
 This lovely valley in its deep repose, 
 
 Nor scorching heat nor gloomy winter knows. 
 
 But flowers bloom and feathered warblers sing 
 
 Amid the verdure of eternal spring. 
 
 And here sequestered, years and years ago. 
 
 Where partial Nature's richest bounties flow. 
 
 From the resplendent orb of heaven sprung, 
 
 A noble people lived, and loved, and sung. 
 
 Their city, prosperous and happy then, 
 
 Filled up the bosom of the mountain glen. 
 
 The fairest city on its sloping side, 
 
 The Holy City, the Peruvian's pride, 
 
 From which intelligence and culture flowed. 
 
 And wealth and luxury had their abode. 
 
 When was it built 1 And how .? We may not know, 
 
 For that was many, many years ago. 
 
 And myth, tradition, fable, mystery, 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 1 3 
 
 Have settled darkly round its history. 
 We only know that from the mountain lake, 
 Where grows the ivy and the rustling brake, 
 Came Manco Capac and his sister wife, 
 To give Peru a grander, nobler life. 
 The sun, the parent of the human race, 
 With deep compassion on his beaming face. 
 These his loved children to the people gave. 
 To teach, reclaim, to civilize, and save. 
 And now proceeded the celestial pair 
 O'er mountain height and valley green and fair. 
 Far to the north their sacred journey lay, 
 Far through the lovely valley of Yucay. 
 The mighty condor circled overhead. 
 The hollow passes echoed to their tread, 
 And oft they heard descending from the hill 
 The liquid murmur of the mountain rill. 
 Low musical its poppling waters fell 
 
14 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 In the deep pool the Naiads love so well. • 
 And often, startled, from their coverts leap, 
 Amazed and timid, the. Peruvian sheep. 
 The blooming valleys, opening one by one, 
 Invited on the Children of the Sun. 
 But Cuzco's valley, which they saw at last, 
 All other beauties they had seen surpassed. 
 A tropic sun in clearly mellow light 
 Now bathed the valley beautifully bright, 
 And warmly fell on velvet grassy slopes 
 The promised guerdon of their fears and hopes. 
 They bore a wedge whose talismanic spell 
 Would soon the destiny of a people tell. 
 The sacred emblem was to show the place 
 To found the city of a heaven-born race. 
 And when at last the travelers, weary, gain 
 The northern border of the mountain plain,- 
 . The wedge of gold from out the willing hand 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 1$ 
 
 Sank deep forever in the fertile land. 
 This hallowed spot the father-God had given 
 To raise his altars to a sniiling heaven, 
 To found a city where the lavish hand 
 Of nature beautified a chosen land. 
 The noblest city since the world began, 
 Beloved of God and very dear to man. 
 News of their coming rumored far and near; 
 The simple people lent the willing €ar ; 
 Tribe after tribe they gathered one by one, 
 And built the Holy City of the Sun. 
 Their rule extended o'er the mountains wide, 
 The son succeeded when the father died. 
 Beneath the Incas' mild and loving sway 
 Melted the years in centuries away, 
 And peace and plenty and content caress 
 The spot a Deity had deigned to bless. 
 
l6 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 One day the sun, descending in the west, 
 Far o'er the waters lit the frozen crest 
 Of dim Sierra, towering on high, 
 A mighty link between the earth and sky. 
 Beyond the height his mellow splendor fell, 
 And cheered the valley that he loved so well. 
 The Sacred City with his luster glows, 
 Where many an altar to his worship rose. 
 Huayna Capac was the Inca then, 
 And from the ocean to the mountain glen, 
 In humble huts and palaces of stone, 
 Throbbed every bosom for their king alone. 
 They knew no duty but the Inca's sway, 
 X His to command, theirs only to obey. 
 
 What means the throng upon the mountain road 
 On every side that to the city flowed ? 
 And why has Cuzco thrown open wide 
 Her massive portals to the coming tide? 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 To-morrow's morning they would see begun 
 
 The feast of Raymi to the summer sun. 
 
 From distant borders of the mighty land, 
 
 From where old ocean on a burning strand 
 
 Dashes his billows, from the mountain side, 
 
 From the rude cabin where the waters glide 
 
 In beauty by upon a shining strand, 
 
 The pebbly shingle and the golden sand, 
 
 From north and south and from the west and east 
 
 They meet to celebrate the summer feast. 
 
 A motley throng upon the way appear 
 
 The shepherd, peasant, and the mountaineer. 
 
 The eager pilgrim from a distant shore 
 
 Has passed the flood and toiled the valley o'er, 
 
 Has crossed the chasm's deep and awful night 
 
 Till brain grew dizzy with the giddy height, 
 
 And scaled the crags of each opposing peak 
 
 Until he faltered and his arm grew weak. 
 
 2 
 
5 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 At last he stands upon the mountain brow 
 And Cuzco's valley is beneath him now. 
 Footsore and weary, wan and travel-stained, 
 The goal is won, Peruvian Mecca gained, 
 And heaves his bosom as his glances trace 
 The noble city in the vale's embrace. 
 The granite walls encompassing about, 
 The triple towers of the fortress stout, 
 That ne'er discloses to the wily foe 
 The subterranean galleries below. 
 The low-ranged buildings radiantly bright, 
 Like silvery lines of systematic light. 
 With darker spaces of the streets between. 
 And further on upon the heights are seen 
 The Inca palaces, the wealth displayed — 
 Their corner-stones in molten gold were laid. 
 In some the bustling busy lite appears ; 
 Some, dumb and silent for a hundred years. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. IQ 
 
 Glitters without the customary show, 
 Within, the dust of many years ago. 
 Their mummied owners in the temple lay, 
 And mothy tinsel moulders to decay. 
 A narrow river through the city flowed. 
 And far beyond, upon a shining road. 
 Till onward, onward in the dim unknown 
 The vast beyond appearing vaster grown. 
 At last it mingles in the mighty tide, 
 Earth's grandest river rolling deep and wide. 
 The Hill of Joy beyond the river lies, 
 Where bright succeeding terraces arise. 
 The breath of blossoms many hued and fair 
 Is floating ever from its broad parterre. 
 To southward spreads the noble vale away 
 With foliage bright and with its blossoms gay. 
 Cordilleran masses in a mighty chain, 
 As guardian barriers of the mountain plain 
 
20 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 Surrounding all, the borders of the skies 
 
 Like some vast amphitheater arise ; 
 
 Whose deep arena lying low between 
 
 Is softly carpeted in Nature's green. 
 
 For miles away the noble vale was sprent 
 
 With myriad homes in plenty and content. 
 
 The polished granite of their facades shone 
 
 Reflecting back the splendor of the sun. 
 
 And shining streamlets through the valley stray, 
 
 Like silvery serpents winding on their way, 
 
 Harmless in beauty by the homes of men, 
 
 Their limpid waters irrigate the glen. 
 
 So clear the air above the valley lay 
 
 The " Holy Height," a hundred miles away. 
 
 Snow-capped and lofty as an outpost high 
 
 Of mystic cloudland, towers to the sky 
 
 In empyrean majesty and grace, 
 
 As ruling spirit of an holy place. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 21 
 
 And to the eastward spread a rugged tract, 
 The rock, the grove, the rumbling cataract, 
 In blended harmony they sweetly lie 
 Beneath the azure of a tropic sky. 
 The gentle breezes through the valley bring 
 The hum of bees and fountains' murmuring. 
 The sun descending in his lustrous flight 
 Had lit no grander, nor a prouder sight 
 Than that rich valley beautiful and wide, 
 That shining city on the mountain side. 
 The darkling crags their rugged outline throw 
 In protean shadows on the vale below. 
 The beaming sun in majesty and state 
 Now lit the gold upon the western gate, 
 And kissed a farewell to the Inca bowers. 
 But longer lit the Cyclopean towers, 
 Paused for a moment on the mountain height. 
 Then sunk away and left a tropic night. 
 
22 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 'Tis morn, but ere the sacred orb of day 
 Shines o'er the mountains in the far away, 
 In Cuzco's plaza where he was adored 
 A mingled throng of wdrshipers had poured. 
 The Indian courtiers in apparel rare, 
 With costly ornaments and jeweled hair, 
 Vied with each other in the quaint array, 
 The pomp and pageant of the festal day. 
 The rustic peasant and the shepherd dressed 
 In coarser mantle, to the plaza pressed. 
 Above the sedans of the rich and great 
 By menials borne were canopies of state. 
 And in the center of the square was seen 
 The sacred Inca in his palanquin. 
 Whose regal habiliment in every fold 
 Blazed rich with jewel, emerald and gold. 
 Peru had waited for the rising sun 
 Since first gray streaking of the day begun. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 23 
 
 And watched in mute expectancy the throng 
 The vermeil pathway he would pass along. 
 But when he burst upon their eager sight, 
 And bathed the turrets in his golden light, 
 Pealed from the throng in momentary glee 
 One simultaneous shout of jubilee. 
 A hundred thousand in the wild refrain 
 Made the fair city tremble with the strain. 
 The pipe, the timbrel, and the drum combined 
 With strange inventions of the Indian mind, 
 Swelled loud and louder the triumphal cry 
 That made no pause for echo to reply. 
 Their arms they lifted to the shining height 
 As to embrace the clear and holy light, 
 And kissed the ether limpid, pure, and free, 
 As 'twere the raiment of a Deity. 
 The Inca offered to the sun divine 
 A golden vase of consecrated wine. 
 
24 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 The first observance of the day begun, 
 He sought the street and Temple of the Sun. 
 In rich profusion was the shining way 
 With flowers strewn and with banners gay, 
 And, followed closely by the mighty throng, 
 Who now unsandaled march the street along. 
 Majestic priests with solemn visage trod, 
 And bore the off'erings to the Inti-God. 
 The opal, jasper, emerald, were there. 
 Rubies and fruits and flowers bright and fair, 
 Sweet scented spices, blossoms of agave, 
 Shells brightly tinted from the ocean wave. 
 But one alone of all the human tide 
 Might pass the portals of the Temple wide. 
 The Inca entered, o'er the pavement trod, 
 And knelt before the image of his God. 
 While weary centuries had come and gone 
 In solemn stillness it had looked upon 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 25 
 
 The prostrate kings of generations past, 
 But fate decreed this king would be the last. 
 Art's finest touches had been summoned here 
 To paint and gild, to sculpture and veneer. 
 The sheen of sunlight through the ample door 
 Flashed full across the tessellated floor, 
 And gleamed with dazzling and holy light 
 On his own image radiantly bright 
 Emblazoned broad upon the western wall 
 In massive gold. The cornices and all 
 The fluted columns, crusted heavy o'er 
 With virgin gold from summit to the floor, 
 Reflected back the empyrean beams 
 In floods of glory, radiating streams. 
 Thick-sprinkled jewels flashed upon the eye, 
 Like shining stars upon a golden sky, 
 Surpassing lovely, dazzling to behold. 
 The Coricancha is a mine of gold. 
 
26 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 A few more Raymis on the mortal shore, 
 A few more joys and passing sorrows o'er, 
 The Indian monarch with his labor done 
 Was called away to mansions of the sun. 
 A wave of sorrow o'er the nation spread, 
 Unnumbered mourners wept the noble dead. 
 The Inca's son, his favorite and pride, 
 The brave Atalpa, ever by his side, 
 In war or peace, Tacomez or Yucay, 
 Now ruled in Quito, to the north away. 
 The elder, Husar, haughty, proud, and vain. 
 Was left in old Peruvia to reign. 
 In lovely peace a few brief summers close, 
 Then anger, hatred, jealousy, arose, 
 And blind ambition, scantily concealed, 
 Impelled the brothers to the fatal field. 
 Atalpa's sword in devastation fell 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 2/ 
 
 On fair Peru, his father ruled so well. 
 At Quipaypan the mighty armies met 
 While dew was sparkling on the grasses yet. 
 The fierce Peruvians on the Quitans bore, 
 Like ocean billows on a rocky shore. 
 Flecked was the valley with the purple gore. 
 No petty province urged them to the fray, 
 The mighty empire was at stake to-day ; 
 And towering upward, lofty and serene, 
 The mighty Andes looked upon the scene 
 Of death and carnage raging at its base, 
 And frowned with porphyry and granite face. 
 Never before had banner of the Sun 
 Been borne to battle but the day was won. 
 Now spears and arrows like the-driving rain 
 Were poured on Quito's battlements in vain. 
 The Sun-God, sinking in the western sky, 
 Saw Quito conquer, the Peruvians fly. 
 
28 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 And gentle night her somber mantle spread 
 Above the dying, and the silent dead. 
 
 Atalpa lay at Caxamalca now, 
 Glittering his eye and feverish his brow; 
 The gloomy hours of the fateful day 
 Had rolled in dull uncertainty away ; 
 Incessant glancing in the dim afar 
 To catch the first fleet messenger of war, 
 That should the tidings of the battle bring, 
 His hopeless ruin, or proclaim him king. 
 And such a brink did ever mortal know } 
 Bright heights above, a yawning gulf below ; 
 Effulgent temples, palaces, and throne, 
 A mighty empire would be his alone, 
 Or no scant nook in all the land so fair 
 To shield a ruined renegade's despair. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 29 
 
 And hope and fear alternately possessed 
 A transient triumph in his troubled breast. 
 
 The day was past, the draperies of night 
 Girded the valley and the mountain height, 
 But yet no tidings of the battle came 
 To quench the tireless, consuming flame 
 Of dull suspense that preyed upon his soul. 
 The doubt and passion baffling control. 
 Another day, another night appear, 
 Each lagging hour was a gloomy year, 
 And supplications for a victory won 
 From pallid lips ascended to the sun. 
 Another day had melted in the past, — 
 What ! News of battle ! Has it come at last : 
 A herald, bursting from the mountain height, 
 Sped down the valley like a beam of light, 
 Nor paused a moment for the mighty tide 
 
30 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 Of mountain torrent, fathomless and wide. 
 One mighty effort, as the supple deer 
 He dashes onward in his fleet career, 
 But pressing nearer to the city walls, 
 He reels — he staggers — heavily he falls. 
 And those who hastened eagerly to lave 
 The reeking forehead from the crystal wave, 
 Pitying, shuddered at the soulless eye 
 That glanced them no intelligent reply, 
 The mouth compressed that might forever seal 
 The fated word none other could reveal, 
 Uncertain pulses and the shallow breath, 
 The visage ghastly with the hues of death. 
 All anxious lest the faintest whisper slip 
 That truant sense might fashion on his lip. 
 The first low murmur of the faltering tongue 
 Was caught. Its echo o'er the valley rung, 
 And loud and wild, voluminous and free, 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 31 
 
 Arose the shout : "Atalpa's victory." 
 His proudest dream was verified at last, 
 The hazard over and the struggle past, 
 The triumph perfect and for him alone 
 The ancient empire and his father's throne. 
 The low-fringed borla round his forehead drew, 
 And Quito's prince was Inca of Peru. 
 
 The curious working of the human breast 
 Can well be felt but hardly be expressed. 
 It labors long and earnestly to clasp 
 A prize that withers in the eager grasp, 
 Be it a kingdom or a simpler joy, 
 'Tis yet the same, a transitory toy. 
 And with the longed for victory attained 
 There's yet a something that is never gained. 
 Some canker lurks in pleasure's soft caress. 
 No heart can boast its unalloyed success. 
 
32 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 The prize is won, but howsoever fair, 
 Some hoped-for quality is wanting there. 
 We seek in vain some fascinating hue 
 Anticipation pictured to our view. 
 
 Despite the scepter of a mighty land, 
 Held now so firmly in Atalpa's hand, 
 A deep foreboding lingered in his breast, 
 A nameless sadness, and a vague unrest, 
 For which his diadem could ill repay, 
 Or gay festivities dispel away. 
 The deep hosannas echoed wild and glad. 
 The people shouted, he alone was sad. 
 
 A storm was brooding o'er the gloomy waste 
 Of Southern Ocean, and the billows chased 
 Along in tireless and sullen flow 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 33 
 
 O'er coral caves and algae deep below. 
 
 In those dark waters rolling wild and strong 
 
 Labored a Spanish galleon along, 
 
 Freighted with death and desolating woe 
 
 For that fair land, that paradise below. 
 
 The dark-eyed, sturdy soldiery of Spain 
 
 But little recked the heaving of the main. 
 
 Life was to them the trifle of a day, 
 
 Theirs to enjoy, and theirs to fling away. 
 
 Wild for adventure, if it only lies 
 
 In paths that savor of a golden prize, 
 
 Anticipation imaged every day 
 
 A siren halo round their stormy way ; 
 
 And every night each ragamuffin there 
 
 In realms of vision was a millionaire, 
 
 And saw assured, beyond the Andes' chain. 
 
 An El Dorado easy to attain, 
 
 That led at last to devastation dire. 
 
 Through seas of blood and desolating fire. 
 
 3 
 
34 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 The little vessel on a shining strand 
 Grated her keel and poured her blighting band. 
 Beside the ocean, spreading far away, 
 A narrow strip of emerald verdure lay. 
 Abrupt beyond the cultivated plain 
 Arose the towering Cordilleran chain. 
 The valley traversed to the mountain side, 
 They crossed the chasm and the torrent's tide ; 
 Plunged in the deep and ominous ravine, 
 Where nature's wildest carnival is seen. 
 Luxuriant grasses o'er the teeming ground, 
 And rank, lush creepers radiate around. 
 The gliding serpent was a tenant there, 
 Rainbow-hued parrots glitter in the air. 
 Thankful, at last the travelers emerged, 
 And up the height their fiery spirits urged 
 Their weary bodies ; up the beetle-browed 
 And rugged cliff they clamber to the cloud.' 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 35 
 
 The airy defile of the mountain passed, 
 They gain the frozen pinnacle at last. 
 With glittering eye and countenance aglow, 
 They strain their vision in the depths below, 
 Nor linger where Omnipotence has thrown 
 The shroud of winter in a torrid zone ; 
 But down the east declivity they pour, 
 In haste to pass its difficulties o'er. 
 Pizarro's spirit never failed to cheer 
 The jaded footman and the cavalier. 
 Long days of labor, and the little band 
 Has gained the valley and the promised land. 
 Advancing over Caxamalca's street. 
 The earliest clatter of the charger's feet. 
 From pavement dull, reverberated through 
 Forsaken mart, unpeopled avenue. 
 The gloomy wall was welcomer alone ; 
 The nest was empty and the bird had flown. 
 
^5 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 There settled darkly o'er the mountain plain 
 A cheerless night with pattering of rain. 
 The storm-rack hurried ominously by 
 Above the city, in the lurid sky. 
 The Uttle force was bivouacked to-night 
 'Mid danger, cunning, barbarism, might. 
 Did some vague sense, some relative of fear, 
 Assail the bosom of the cavalier, 
 Who left the sunny scenery of Spain 
 To hazard all upon the gloomy plain 
 Of Cassamarca ? On the city tower 
 The weary sentinel beguiled the hour 
 In vague conjecture. From the lofty height 
 Far glanced in weird obscurity of night 
 His piercing vision. On the plain below 
 No fancy paints a visionary foe, 
 But camp-fires twinkle in the valley nigh, 
 As jewels glitter in a vesper sky. 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 37 
 
 The morning dawned, the monarch of the day 
 Rolled o'er the valley in his shining way, 
 Dispelling from its pinnacle on high, 
 The last dull cloud that tarried in the sky. 
 No lighter bounds, hilarious with pride, 
 The glad young bosom of the charming bride. 
 Who hears the chiming of the marriage bell 
 Proclaim her pleasure to the rural dell. 
 Than Spanish bosom when the trumpet-screams 
 Dispel the unreality of dreams, 
 And call to arming in the city square, 
 To wait the coming of the Inca there. 
 Pizarro's plan of perfidy and crime, 
 The foulest in the history of time. 
 In vain they waited his approaching soon, 
 And morning faded into afternoon. 
 At last he came ; the retinue of state 
 Was seen advancing in the city gate. 
 
38 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 With crest and banner waving in the breeze, 
 With royal livery and panoplies, 
 On through the streets the melody of song 
 Rolled with the tide of gayety along. 
 But when they crowded in the city square, 
 The song of triumph died upon the air. 
 The Inca seated on a throne of gold 
 Looked round the plaza eager to behold 
 The daring spirits of a foreign land. 
 
 Spanish priest, advancing, took his stand 
 Before the monarch, with the sacred Book, 
 Beseeching that with favor he would look 
 Upon his comrades and their faith beside. 
 He told the story of the Crucified, 
 And how his deputy, the Pope, to Spain 
 Had given that American domain. 
 Then paused the friar, and the monarch's eye 
 Flashed scorn and fire as he made reply : 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 39 
 
 *' I will be no man's tributary slave 
 
 In this free land my God and fathers gave. 
 
 And no allegiance will I ever own 
 
 To any being but my God alone. 
 
 For even by the creatures that his hand 
 
 Had formed and nourished in a favored land 
 
 Your own Divinity, as you proclaim, 
 
 Was put to death in infamy and shame. 
 
 But mine," — he pointed to the sun on high 
 
 And flood of glory in the western sky, — 
 
 " But mine, eternal as the heavens blue, 
 
 Looks down upon his children of Peru." 
 
 And scarce Pizarro in impatience heard 
 From his interpreter the closing word, 
 A snowy banner from his bosom drew 
 And waved the signal fatal to Peru. 
 From every by-way, avenue, and hall 
 
40 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 The Spanish masses hurried to the call. 
 No pulse of pity in that hardy throng, 
 The war-cry echoes universal, strong. 
 With pike and musket and the flashing brand 
 They fell upon the unoffending band. 
 The stripling soldier and the veteran form 
 Went down together in the whelming storm. 
 Each fell destroyer with the cannon's breath 
 Plowed ghastly lanes of havoc and of death. 
 Its volleyed thunders, resonant and loud, 
 Betray the vulture poised upon the cloud, 
 Fill every corner of the valley wide. 
 Defile and cavern of the mountain side. 
 And start the vampire, ere the day has left, 
 From his dark hiding in the rocky cleft. 
 Resistless, helpless, with a stony gaze, 
 Dumb with despair and stricken with amaze. 
 And blinded, stifled, as the sulphurous smoke 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 4 1 
 
 In darksome volumes o'er the slaughter broke, 
 The Indian throng, bewildered, gaze around, 
 While lifeless bodies thud upon the ground. 
 At last they struggle frantic with despair. 
 But neither refuge nor escape was there. 
 For every passage to the open plain 
 Was choked with masses of the gory slain. 
 By mighty pressure on the plaza wall 
 Its stony masses totter, and they fall. 
 The few survivors o'er the ruins leap, 
 With desperation o'er the valley sweep. 
 The war-horse followed o'er the fatal plain. 
 His hoof was gory with the blood of slain. 
 At every glitter of the saber's sway 
 Another life was left to gush away ; 
 It purpled flowers on the sloping hill, 
 And blushed the bosom of the laughing rill. 
 
42 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 Meantime the nobles, in a loyal ring 
 Around the sedan of the Indian king, 
 Wild to protect their venerated lord, 
 With naked bosoms intercept the sword. 
 'Tis vain. The murderous and reeking hand 
 Cut through the noble and devoted band ; 
 Rude tore the Inca from his royal place, 
 And dragged him o'er the ruins of his race. 
 And at the clanging of his prison door 
 He threw himself upon the stony floor. 
 Deceived, betrayed, and solitary there. 
 With keen remorse and passionate despair; 
 Bewildered yet, but sensing to his cost 
 The bitter fact that everything was lost, 
 With gnashing teeth and quivering lip he lay 
 And smothered curse, he groaned the night away. 
 
 The early morning paled away the stars, 
 And golden sunlight through the prison bars 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 43 
 
 Streamed on his agony and suffering, 
 But brought no solace to the prisoned king. 
 The same to him whichever held its sway, 
 The gloom of night or glory of the day. 
 
 At last, through clouds of desolation, shine 
 The rays of hope, a light almost divine. 
 Pizarro bargained for a mighty fee 
 To draw the bolts and set the monarch free. 
 And at the bidding of the captive king, 
 The willing porters from the coffers bring 
 The golden treasure, glittering and vast 
 Accumulation of the toilsome past. 
 Millions on millions of the shining hoard 
 Into the Spanish treasury are poured ; 
 The grandest ransom ever tortured forth 
 From any prince or potentate on earth. 
 
 At last the golden penalty was paid, 
 But still the time of freedom was delayed. 
 
44 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 The weary days rolled melancholy o'er, 
 Each day as barren as the day before, 
 Till jealous doubt was brooding in the air, 
 And doubt gave way to dolorous despair ; 
 The morn of hope, erst beautiful and bright, 
 Gloomed into evening, deepened into night. 
 No greater height could misery attain, 
 No lower depth could desperation gain. 
 
 One day Atalpa on a divan cast 
 Was thinking, dreaming of the joyous past, 
 When hurried feet upon the pavement rung, 
 The bolts were drawn, widely open flung 
 His prison door. The cavalierros came 
 To crown their course of infamy and shame. 
 What desperadoes in his prison rolled, 
 Thirsty for blood and passionate for gold ! 
 Eyes that were blind to sorrow or distress, 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 45 
 
 Rough-dealing hands that knew no tenderness. 
 A single glance upon the traitors cast, 
 Atalpa knew his destiny at last.- 
 
 At eve, the night bird crooned her plaintive strain 
 O'er a lone grave in Cassamarca's plain. 
 Only a shallow, rudely-fashioned grave ; 
 Around, the daisies and the grasses wave, 
 But hope, ambition, love and hate, despair. 
 Heart-sickening anguish, all are buried there. 
 
 O'er fair Peru has brooded dearth and gloom 
 Since her last monarch withered in the tomb. 
 The gentle scepter from the Inca hand 
 Has passed away forever from the land. 
 And in her temples, plundered and defiled. 
 No longer worships the Peruvian child ; 
 For stranger feet are traversing the floors, 
 
46 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 
 
 And Stranger voices echo at the doors, 
 And where the image of the Sun-God smiled 
 Now stands the marble Virgin and the Child. 
 The sun, as ever, in his shining way 
 Awakes the morn and closes up the day. 
 But now, unworshiped by the simple throng, 
 Ungreeted by the melody of song. 
 
•*->$^Dfl(^$<->^ 
 
 VERY LONG. 
 
 * * W O very long," said the little boy, 
 
 To sit in the school-house old and gray, 
 
 ^°: 
 
 When I like so much to be at play ; 
 
 It's oh so hard ! " said the little boy. 
 
 But he turned his eyes to the dog-eared book, 
 Forgot his master, stern and cold. 
 Unconscious how the moments rolled. 
 
 He finished the task he undertook, 
 
 And when 'twas over his merry song 
 Declared it wasn't so very long. 
 
 " So very long," he said one day, 
 " To wait till I become a man." 
 But he scarcely saw how the moments ran, 
 
48 VERY LONG. 
 
 Till he found him far on manhood's way ; 
 
 And there came a time when his eyes grew dim, 
 The wavering pulse and failing breath 
 Threatening dull decay and death, 
 
 Life's joys and sorrows were naught to him. 
 
 And the faltering voice that erst was strong 
 Said, "Life itself is not very long." 
 
 Beyond a river that darksome rolled, 
 
 In a land where shining fountains play, 
 A soul was welcomed home one day 
 
 By angels touching their harps of gold. 
 
 In the presence of Him who died to save, 
 Earth's tears and struggles are no more 
 To him who walks the blessed shore, 
 
 By the river of life with crystal wave. 
 
 For it matters not to the ransomed throng 
 Whether Life's day be short or long. 
 
MODERN FIDELITY. 
 
 qIjvROM the stormy coast of her native land 
 
 She gazed far o'er the blue, 
 Where the waves dashed up in splendor grand. 
 Her garments, on the cold sea sand, 
 Were damped with ocean's dew. 
 
 She loved to come at the close of day. 
 
 And hear the billows roar, 
 And watch the foaming, seething spray, 
 Where her sailor lover had sailed away 
 
 To India's distant shore. 
 
 4 
 
50 MODERN FIDELITY. 
 
 And now a memory surged her mind ; 
 
 One standing fair and tall 
 Where erst the flowery jessamine 
 Had draped in happy days lang syne 
 
 A cottage garden wall. 
 
 They stood when day was but begun, 
 
 Beside the wall of stone ; 
 But when the west — the dipping sun — 
 Betokened that the day was done 
 
 She rested there alone. 
 
 She wondered if he thought, to-night, 
 
 Of loving friends at home ; 
 Did he keep the curl so brown and bright 
 That he severed from its mates the night 
 He left that cottage home ? 
 
 Tho' chill winds swept the rocky height. 
 She lingered by the sea, 
 
MODERN FIDELITY. 5 [ 
 
 And watched till the somber wings of night 
 Had borne away the fading light 
 In the waves of eternity. 
 
 On India's distant shore was he, 
 
 Not fondling her auburn curl, 
 Not thinking of loved ones o'er the sea, 
 But kissing, beneath a banyan tree, 
 A cross-eyed Hindoo girl. 
 
 She wearily waited and sadly prayed 
 
 For a glimpse of his azure blouse, 
 Till she heard, and rather than be a maid, 
 She married a peddler of decent grade, 
 And went to keeping house. 
 
 'Twas a little cottage she had to keep ; 
 It stood beside the main ; 
 
52 
 
 MODERN FIDELITY. 
 
 And oft she watched the troubled deep, 
 When night-winds cradled the waves asleep 
 And thought of her love again. 
 
 It might have been," she murmured low, 
 
 Tear mists her blue eyes dim ; 
 And the sea birds sweeping to and fro. 
 The fitful shadows that come and go, 
 Too oft remind of him. 
 
 'Tis ever thus. Friends change, apart ; 
 
 Stern absence gives a weary pain, 
 And gossip wings the fatal dart 
 To rend the sinking, hopeless heart 
 
 Of one who waits in vain. 
 
 And love's a sacred thing that few. 
 
 Ah, very few may share ; 
 And lovers to-day "are not half so true 
 As romance pictures them out to you, 
 
 O maiden with golden hair. 
 
MODERN FIDELITY. 53 
 
 And your Jimmy or Sammy, John or Carl, 
 
 So noble, kind, and true, 
 Keeps a wistful eye upon the girl 
 With golden papa or brighter curl 
 
 The while they cherish you. 
 
 But let not this dishearten you ; 
 
 Accept the trust that's given ; 
 For love that's truly pure and true 
 Can never, never be for you 
 
 This side the ports of Heaven. 
 

 MACDONALD'S LAMENT.* 
 
 5-*-l>^^^-!^- 
 
 s a 
 
 /^ GLAD was the day when in childhood I wandered 
 O'er Scotland's loved heather, so joyous and free, 
 And followed the way of the brook that meandered, 
 To list to its song as it flow'd to the sea. 
 
 happy the days that so fleetly pass'd o'er me, 
 
 I mourn for the moments that now are no more; 
 
 1 mourn for the friends who have pass'd on before me, 
 
 Whose voices on earth I shall hear nevermore. 
 
 Those angelic parents whose memory I've cherished 
 For wisdom and virtue crown'd each honest brow. 
 
 With them all ambitious desires have perished — 
 Earth holds nothing more that is dear to me now. 
 
 *At the massacre of Gleucoe, Scotland, in 1692, Macdonald escaped 
 while his parents and many of his friends perished. 
 
macdonald's lament. 55 
 
 The hopes that I held while in Life's merry morning 
 Have faded away like the bow in the sky ; 
 
 The hope that is left me is bright and adorning 
 Of meeting my parents immortal on high. 
 
 I fear not the touch of death's terrible finger, 
 Nor fear I the surge of the dark river's tide ; 
 
 When by the loved grave of my sire I linger, 
 I long for the time when I'll lie by his side. 
 
 And for my loved mother to-day I am yearning, 
 E'en now I remember instruction she gave ; 
 
 But now that loved form back to dust is returning, 
 And heather grows over her long-silent grave. 
 
 Old .Scotland's fine scenery of valleys and mountains, 
 Its flowerets so gay with delicious perfume ; 
 
 Loch Katrine's calm breast and the rills and the fountains 
 Receive not my heed like my parents' cold tomb. 
 
56 
 
 MACDONALD S LAMENT. 
 
 The whistling winds thro' the wild rocks resounding, 
 The waves that are lashing my loved native shore, 
 
 Seem to chant a sad dirge for my heart as they're bounding 
 For sorrow shall reign in this heart evermore. 
 
tM'B'^& 
 
 THE COMET. 
 
 f\ WILLFUL wanderer of the starry waste 
 
 We greet thee from realms infinite and vast. 
 Methinks, with all thy speed 
 Rushing by systems in thy maddened flight, 
 And suns which are to us but twinkling stars, 
 Coming to ours at last, and in thy haste 
 Pausing to give us but one glimpse of thee, 
 Thou'rt lost amid a wilderness of stars. 
 Art thou a stranger here, or, as we think, 
 Swept through our system many times before ? 
 Perchance in many, many years agone. 
 When our loved land o'ershadowed wide 
 With forest giants of a thousand years 
 Was walked by other men, or red or white 
 We do not know nor may we ever tell, 
 
58 ' THE COMET. 
 
 The giant power of the East strode forth 
 And dashed to earth the massive masonry 
 That long had girt about Jerusalem, 
 And then, perchance, the Roman in his might 
 Turned for an instant from the scene of flame 
 And gore that crimsoned for a time the hill 
 Of fated Zion, and beheld thy gleam 
 Above Rome's eagles conquering and proud. 
 And yet again, perchance, when haughty Rome 
 Tottered upon her hills — when Huns and Goths 
 And Vandals barbarous, from cabins rude, 
 From Alpine snows and winding Danube, came. 
 And poured their desolating hordes on Rome, 
 Like dashing billov^s on the ocean's shore. 
 The clang of Roman arms on ruder rung ; 
 A shout, a struggle, inward poured the tide, 
 The Empire of the West has passed away. 
 And hast thou shone o'er stormy scenes, 
 O Comet, wandering when the earth was young. 
 And wilt thou circle closer round the sun. 
 
THE COMET. 59 
 
 And dash to him at last and close 
 Thine eyes of fire, and thy bright career, 
 And leave us wondering at thy ways unknown ? 
 E'en as the sage philosopher has said, 
 We stand upon old Ocean's golden strand 
 And gather pebbles as a thoughtless child, 
 And o'er the boundless deep beyond we gaze, 
 We only gaze amazed and know no more. 
 The gazing through the glass can only give 
 Yearning for sight and knowledge more profound ; 
 Fain would we leave the earth and moon behind, 
 And leave the sun and all his circling host, 
 And soar as on Thought's pinions far away. 
 And sweeping through the corridors of space, 
 And traversing the broad ethereal field, 
 Behold, while hurrying by, the Milky Way, 
 The Pleiades, Orion, and the nebulas, 
 Which now we know in changeful vague imagery. 
 The double stars, which seem almost as one 
 From regions incomparably remote, 
 
6o THE COMET. 
 
 Will sever to a space that words alone 
 
 Fail hopelessly to tell, nor can 
 
 Imagination fathom its extent. 
 
 While teeming millions on a myriad worlds 
 
 Pause while we hurry to the great beyond, 
 
 And wondering behold thy sweeping train, 
 
 As on mysterious through space it glides 
 
 Its vast proportions. Then the glittering gems 
 
 Which stud the realms of ethereal space 
 
 Will grow to suns, round which new worlds 
 
 All silently their ponderous fabrics sweep. 
 
 So awful, vast, incomprehensible ; 
 
 And yet those worlds and ours are but drops 
 
 And atoms in the ocean of infinity. 
 
 And man's an insect on a little ball 
 
 Placed by the Hand divine upon a path 
 
 Obscure and little in His universe. 
 
 And now. O Comet, take me back to earth, 
 
 Yea, back to little nothingness and pride 
 
 I cannot, will not tempt thee farther on. 
 
•^^^-^l^^-s^ 
 
 BEE EYE'S ADDRESS TO HIS SISTER. 
 
 T" DREAMED of home, my sister, 
 
 When evening shadows fall, 
 Where the peaceful time of summer 
 
 Throws its mantle over all. 
 I dreamed of home just as it was 
 
 Ere I had thought to go 
 And leave the scenes we cherished 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 I often hear the birdies 
 
 That sing amid the grove ; 
 
 They remind me of the birdies 
 In the trees we used to love ; 
 
 Tho' sweet they sing the old-time song, 
 And flutter to and fro, 
 
62 BEE eye's address TO HIS SISTER. 
 
 No birdies swing as sweetly 
 As the birds of long ago, 
 
 As oft I sit and ponder 
 
 None sees but One above, 
 And I yearn again to wander 
 
 'Mid the scenes we used to love, 
 To lay Life's duties all aside 
 
 And for a moment know 
 The pure and hallowed pleasure 
 
 That was ours long ago. 
 
 With bright associations 
 
 Far from our early home 
 
 In the wide, wide world there's pleasure 
 Wheresoever I may roam, 
 
 But brighter, dearer, happier 
 The joys we used to know, 
 
 O bonnie Annie Laurie, 
 • In the home of long ago. 
 
-4^=^^^^-^^- 
 
 4-cr 
 
 PEDAGOGICAL COGITATIONS. 
 
 r\ BIRCHEN tickler from the forest shade, 
 I sing thy praises ever fresh and new, 
 A trusty helper in my school you've made, 
 And great the credit I ascribe to you. 
 
 A.nd thou art no respecter, in thy way, 
 Of persons. On the taper, lily hand 
 
 Of the fair maiden, I have seen thee play, 
 And do thy work impressively and grand. 
 
 As well as on the rough and horny palm 
 
 Of some young Neptune from the wave's caress, 
 
 Who came and wintered in his native clime, 
 To impress the people with his worthlessness. 
 
64 PEDAGOGICAL COGITATIONS. 
 
 And thou hast labored on the urchin fist, 
 
 Adorned with warts, and nails in mourning all, 
 
 And grimy dirt that soap and water missed. 
 When closed the sardine factory in the fall. 
 
 Let others talk of ways and methods new 
 To still the yagger in the school or church, 
 
 But no persuader can compare with you. 
 Time-honored, pacifying forest birch. 
 
 Ah ! little scholar, you may never know 
 How very sorry teacher is to see 
 
 Yojr freckled face with bitter tears aflow, 
 And stay the current of your childish glee. 
 
 And chough, to-day, you cannot understand, 
 Though inconsistent, it is surely true. 
 
 The marks upon the dirty little hand 
 Will be a hlessing in the end to you. 
 
FAREWELL. 
 
 T BID my native land farewell 
 
 With deep regret and saddened heart, 
 I feel a gloom I cannot tell 
 
 To know that we are soon to part. 
 
 Indifferent may the stranger's eye 
 On those familiar sights be cast, 
 
 That would in me awake a sigh 
 
 And stir the memory of the past. 
 
 I leave those cherished scenes to-day, 
 For hope resplendent gleams before, 
 
 Changes I know will have their sway 
 Ere I return to go no more. 
 
 Perchance when aged, wan, and worn, 
 
 And Time's deep furrows mark my brow, 
 
 5 
 
66 ■ FAREWELL. 
 
 I'll seek the land where I was born, 
 
 And view the scenes I cherish now. 
 
 And leaning on a staff I'll tread 
 
 With faltering step and heaving chest 
 
 The paths my bounding feet have sped, 
 When early fire burned in my breast. 
 
 Perchance beneath a cofifin lid 
 
 Life's battles over — who can tell ? — 
 
 .This worn-out body shall be hid 
 
 Beneath the sod I loved so well. 
 
 I may see many a blooming shore 
 
 And flowing river broad and grand, 
 
 Thy memory yet shall cheer me more, 
 My loved, my cherished native land. 
 
 Changes may mark a future day. 
 
 The ocean may between us roll. 
 
 But time can never wear away 
 
 The early memories of the soul. 
 
I 
 
 LAMENT FOR DAVY. 
 
 M standing by the garden gate, I'm waiting for some 
 cake, 
 
 I've fasted every day, Davy, since you made your fare- 
 well bake. 
 
 I've seen your old white nag, Davy, go up and down the 
 street, 
 
 I've heard the tinkling of the bells and clatter of his feet. 
 
 He scarcely looks so happy as he did in days of yore, 
 
 There's a sad expression in his eye I never saw before ; 
 
 His nose hangs very low, Davy, and his white sides often 
 shake 
 
 With a big internal sigh, Davy, as he brings the pies and 
 cake. 
 
6S ■ LAMENT FOR DAVY. 
 
 I guess he must be thinking, while jogging to and fro, 
 Of a better place hereafter, where all good horses go — 
 Where they raise no bread and pastry but oats in plenty 
 
 grow. 
 But he pulls the same red pung, Davy, along the same old 
 
 track. 
 With "bread" and "cake" marked on the side, and 
 
 " pastry " on the back ; 
 And he jogs, and jogs, and jogs along, and the bells 
 
 swing to and fro, 
 And he jogs, and jogs, and jogs along, just like he used 
 
 to go. 
 Like faith this is the evidence of things I cannot see — 
 The substance of things hoped for, of things that cannot 
 
 be; 
 For now a stranger daily mounts the place you used to 
 
 take. 
 I'm waiting for some cake, Davy, I'm waiting for some 
 
 cake, 
 
LAMENT FOR DAVY. 69 
 
 I'm waiting for your cake, Davy, I'm waiting for it still. 
 For Davy's, I've an aching void, no other cake can fill. 
 I used to think as on you went with nature kind and clever, 
 Like Alfred's brook of which we read that you'd go on 
 
 forever. 
 But now, alas ! the scene is changed, on this cold April 
 
 day 
 I'll sadly pull my ear-tabs down and trudge along the way. 
 Davy, we miss your smiling face, we long your hand to 
 
 take, • 
 We honor your good principles — but oh — the pies and 
 
 cake. 
 
•i4^>- ■ » — ^ 
 
 MAGGIE. 
 
 [from a story in harper's weekly.] 
 
 qj JARK the world to-night and wildly 
 
 Torrents down the falling rain, 
 Sad my heart responds and mildly 
 
 As it plashes on the pane, 
 For I'm desolate and lonely, 
 
 Mists are gathering in my eye, 
 And I yearn for Maggie only, 
 
 Maggie of the days gone by. 
 
 Once when tempest roared above me 
 One was seated by my side, 
 
 And with her the one to love me 
 Looked I out upon the tide, 
 
MAGGIE. 7^ 
 
 And when lightning glittered brightly, 
 
 With its weirdly transient shine 
 Both her little hands "lay lightly 
 
 And confidingly in mine." 
 
 But a phantom, grim and stately. 
 
 Frowned upon us from the air 
 And I looked and wondered greatly 
 
 Maggie could not see it there, 
 For her eyes were opened mildly 
 
 When the levin lit the storm, 
 While my bosom beating wildly 
 
 Felt a strangely vague alarm. 
 
 Ah ! that mocking phantom reft us, 
 
 Cruel blew the icy blast, 
 Only memories it left us — 
 
 Treasures of the hallowed past. 
 
72 MAGGIE. 
 
 Sparkling eyes have dimmed with sorrow, 
 Ruby lips have lost their glow, 
 
 Hopes have found no bright to-morrow 
 Since we parted long ago. 
 
 Still the world is dark and dreary, 
 
 Still in torrents falls the rain, 
 Still my aching heart is weary 
 
 As it plashes on the pane, 
 Still I'm desolate and lonely, 
 
 Mists are gathering in my eye, 
 And I yearn for Maggie only, 
 
 Maggie of the days gone by. 
 
<^^^«^<^ 
 
 •*^l^^^^^ 
 
 COLLEGE POEMS, 
 
 
 m 
 
COLBY UNIVERSITY. 
 

 THAT PIANAY. 
 
 MUSIC hath charms, I will admit, 
 When circumstances favor it. 
 To pass the merry hours along 
 I love the sportive college song, 
 The locust on the railroad tie, 
 Or "U-pi-dee" or old " Phi Chi," 
 And with my spirits blithe and gay, 
 I love the festive pianay. 
 
 ***** 
 
 At thirty minutes after ten 
 We tumble into bed, and then 
 Just as we glide in sleep elysian, 
 The 'habitants of South Division, 
 
76 THAT PIANAY. 
 
 n 
 
 3 
 
 We rouse, an audience to be 
 To strains of midnight melody. 
 Great Zeus ! I think the devil must play 
 That number 'leven pianay. 
 
 ! give the Thomas cat instead, 
 That used to warble on the shed 
 And try with super-feline power 
 To render terrible the hour. 
 
 He howled so loud in midnight calm, 
 
 1 thought he'd bust his diaphragm. 
 Yet give him back but take away 
 That sleep-distracting pianay. 
 
 Or give the hurdy-gurdy man, 
 Surrounded by the yagger clan. 
 For he comes only in the day. 
 Yea, give a cent and let him play ^ 
 
THAT PIANAY. T7 
 
 And let him turn with all his might. 
 But in the stilly hours of night 
 Don't craze my sleep, Orpheus, I pray, 
 With that confounded pianay. 
 
 It isn't that I mind the song, 
 
 Which may flow merrily along, 
 
 In fact it may be most divine, 
 
 With ''Bingo Farm" or ''Baby Mine," 
 
 Or "Bonnie on the Sea" so grand, 
 
 And rendered by a Dexterous hand, 
 
 Yet agony no tongue can say 
 
 Lurks in that hideous pianay. 
 
 ^^^.^^^^.^^^ 
 
 ^^'^^% 
 
SAM AND THE ORGAN-GRINDER. 
 
 /^NE pleasant day in early May, 
 A grinder came along the way 
 To play his little song, 
 The eager heads were popping out, 
 North College trembled with the shout, 
 " Come, grinder, come along." 
 
 Sam heard the racket in his den 
 And started for the door, and then, 
 " Hi dar, you, get away." 
 " Come on, come on," the echoing cheer 
 Sam heard, and got right on his ear, 
 As slangy people say. 
 
SAM AND THE ORGAN-GRINDER. 79 
 
 He met the grinder on the walk 
 And had a somewhat violent talk 
 
 Around the music box, 
 But who on earth would e'er suppose 
 That Sam would smite him on the nose, 
 
 Or pluck his raven locks ! • 
 
 Great Zeus ! it was a fearful fray 
 And wild the battle shout, when they 
 
 Begin to scratch and pull. 
 For quite a radius round, the air 
 Was black with snarls, of flying hair 
 
 And Ethiopian wool. 
 
 The grinder's organ looked as tho' 
 A cyclone, mule, or tornado 
 
 Had dashed it on the loam ; 
 He shouldered it at last when beat, 
 Then hobbled feebly down the street. 
 
 And Sam went limping home. 
 
►*H^49D0(^$^->^ 
 
 THE FRESHMAN'S MONODY. 
 
 ■^B"'^ 
 
 TIRED Freshman, thin and weak, 
 I sit and plug away at Greek. 
 My student lamp is burning low 
 As the weary hours come and go ; 
 An atmosphere of chill and gloom 
 Pervades this boxed-up body room 
 And makes it seem a living tomb, 
 Or that the *' Prisoners of Chillon " 
 In some past age had come and gone 
 And left their impress on this floor, 
 Those gloomy walls, and shaky door, 
 Which for to ventilate, no doubt, 
 Some Soph has kicked the panel out, 
 
THE freshman's MONODY. 8 1 
 
 Or it may be 'twas only done 
 To give the Soph a little fun 
 In plying his hydraulic gun. 
 For very often when at work 
 I start up sudden with a jerk, 
 And lo ! I'm in a watery realm, 
 It patters on my cerebellum 
 And then, so chilling, so malign, 
 Meanders calmly down my spine. 
 
 The Seniors, dignified and grave. 
 
 Majestically stalk the pave, 
 
 The Juniors sweep along the way 
 
 Almost as,dignified as they, 
 
 The Sophomore jolly, light, and gay, 
 
 Treads with a ditty in his throat, 
 
 A squirt-gun hidden 'neath his coat ; 
 
 And yaggers unmolested go 
 
 6 
 
82 THE FRESHMAN S MONODY. 
 
 About the campus to and fro. 
 But, ah ! whene'er I pass along 
 A Fresh, a Freshy, is the song 
 And from each window light and free 
 The plashing torrents pour on me. 
 And Sam will grumble day by day 
 Because I wear the grass away 
 In walking distant from the halls 
 Where showering, limpid water falls. 
 O, if that janitor but knew 
 What 'tis to feel the sprinkling dew, 
 To jump whene'er he leaves a door. 
 He wouldn't grumble any more. 
 
 I laid some apples by one day 
 
 To cheer me as I toiled away, 
 
 But Sophomore robbers found my store, 
 
 I never saw those apples more. 
 
THE freshman's MONODY. 83 
 
 And if, to cure the stomach ache, 
 
 I get me something good to take, 
 
 As Paul says, "for the stomach's sake," 
 
 And lay it by with greatest care, 
 
 When next I look it isn't there. 
 
 Thus every pleasure, every joy 
 
 Is taken from the Freshman boy. 
 
 O hasten on, ye happy day, 
 When Freshman terrors pass away 
 And with the envied exit o'er, 
 A wild and dashing Sophomore, 
 I'll w^ake the echoes of the plain 
 And be a somebody again. 
 
-I- — >^ ^< < s 
 
 THE FRESHMAN'S STORY. 
 
 -\-\ THEN first I came to Colby 
 
 And the shady campus struck, 
 Though I had some discouragements 
 
 I felt myself in luck, 
 For students came from every class 
 
 And shook me by the hand. 
 And tried to make me feel at home, 
 
 I tell you, it was grand. 
 
 And as the days went by, they tried 
 
 To show me their regard, 
 They hoped I had an easy time 
 
 And didn't study hard. 
 
THE freshman's STORY. 85 
 
 They treated me to pea-nuts 
 
 And to candy every day, 
 And when I called to see them 
 
 They wanted me to stay. 
 
 They liked whatever suited me, 
 
 And why, I couldn't tell ; 
 I never saw a lot of chaps 
 
 That liked me half so well. 
 They didn't keep me in suspense, 
 
 But soon revealed the cause ; 
 They wanted me to join a — well, . 
 
 I don't know what it was. 
 
 A Senior took me by the arm 
 
 And led me to his room. 
 He smiled on me a happy smile. 
 
 Was glad that I had come ; 
 
S6 THE FRESHMAN S STORY. 
 
 His friends admired me, he said, 
 For common sense and piety. 
 
 And I was honored with a bid 
 To join a Greek society. 
 
 Then in a speech two hours long 
 
 He told me of its worth ; 
 The biggest, grandest Grecian light 
 
 That shines upon the earth. 
 And with this mystic brotherhood 
 
 United I might be. 
 He said that T would honor them 
 
 And they would honor me. 
 
 Then other students came along 
 And talked for other cliques. 
 
 And some were men of 'eighty-seven 
 And some of 'eighty-six. 
 
THE freshman's STORY. 8/ 
 
 Now each of these societies 
 
 Was mighty, East and West, 
 And I was quite surprised to find 
 
 Each one to be '' the best." 
 
 Now I had read in early life 
 
 The stories Morgan wrote, 
 And very naturally indeed 
 
 I feared a William goat ; 
 Besides, I must confess, the thought 
 
 Produced a little fright. 
 That I should climb a greasy pole 
 
 To reach a Grecian light. 
 
 But as I felt their fellowship 
 
 Unsuited to my mind, 
 When urged upon to join the Greeks 
 
 I finally declined. 
 There are no pea-nuts now for me. 
 
 No candy every day. 
 
88 THE FRESHMAN S STORY. 
 
 And when I call upon the boys 
 They wish I'd go away. 
 
 Now when my Livy flunk is made 
 
 In melancholy gloom, 
 And when I've hunted up my hat 
 
 In the Boardman Mission room, 
 And when I've dodged the element 
 
 South College rains so free, 
 I trudge me sadly down the street, 
 
 For no one speaks to me. 
 
 Why do those fellows act so queer 
 And take a distant tone ? 
 
 I need their friendship even more 
 Because I am alone. 
 
 Ah, me ! this is a funny world, 
 • For me no joy awaits, 
 
 'Tis rather late to join them now, 
 I think I'll go to Bates. 
 
SUA 
 
 THE FRESHMAN AND THE HORSE. 
 
 FRESH who came to Colby 
 With the honest, true design, 
 That he wouldn't horse his 'Elldg 
 
 Or his Latin, not a line, 
 Struggled manful thro' September, 
 
 Working early, working late, 
 Nor in sombrous October 
 Did his noble zeal abate, 
 
 Till the great election battle 
 
 November brought around, 
 When the horns and booming cannon 
 
 Shook the colleges and ground ; 
 And then the lad grew weary. 
 
 All his exercise or play 
 Had been ambling down the sidewalk 
 
 Just exactly thrice a day. 
 
go THE FRESHMAN AND THE HORSE. 
 
 His spine began a curving out, 
 
 His chest a sinking in, 
 The skin had shrunk upon his face 
 
 In one perpetual grin ; 
 His form grew gaunt and thinner, 
 
 His ribs began to show, 
 And he scarce would make a dinner 
 
 For a single famished crow. 
 
 At last he mused : "'Tis fatal. 
 
 My case is growing worse ; 
 I will betake me down to Dorr's 
 
 And buy a — yes, a horse ; 
 I might get one in college. 
 
 But I think I won't essay, 
 For fear that Campus Editor 
 
 May give the thing away." 
 
 And thus the Fresh soliloquized, 
 And down the street he went. 
 
 Soon entered Dorr's establishment 
 A figure lean and bent. 
 
THE FRESHMAN AND THE HORSE. 9 1 
 
 The clerk leaned o'er the counter 
 
 To- catch the words perforce, 
 And heard them uttered faintly, 
 
 '' Please, sir, I want a horse." 
 
 Great Zeus ! of all the mockeries 
 
 That dash out hope and joy. 
 He laid upon the counter 
 
 A little wooden toy ; 
 The Fresh looked on it sadly, 
 
 Then huskily said he 
 On pushing it away, ** I want 
 
 A horse on Odyssey." 
 
 The guilty Freshman eyed the door 
 
 And every nook with dread, 
 Lest some Professor lurking near 
 
 Had heard what he had said. 
 But there was no Professor nigh 
 
 The evil deed to note ; 
 He clutched a horse on Odyssey 
 
 And thrust it 'neath his coat. 
 
92 THE FRESHMAN AND THE HORSE. 
 
 And then more sly and panting 
 
 Than e'er he'd been before 
 He hurried to the campus, 
 
 And for his room and door. 
 Joyous, ending now his run, 
 
 To gain the threshold edge, 
 Like Tarn O'Shanter when he won 
 
 The keystone of the bridge. 
 
 That guilty Fresh is happy now, 
 
 His heart is light and free, 
 No cloud of sorrow on his brow, 
 
 He feels no dread eiimd. 
 He tends the reading room and gym. 
 
 Is ever on the batter, 
 That form so ribb'd and gaunt and slim. 
 
 Is daily growing fatter. 
 
►*->^^^]:ii®-^->^ 
 
 THE JUNIOR'S FAREWELL TO GREEK. 
 
 (yV)H, Greek, I little thought when first 
 
 I gazed on thy distorted characters, 
 Looking so innocent and small and crook'd, 
 With tails and accents in a jumbled mass, 
 And all thy wild jaw-breaking complications, 
 The agony, the headaches, and the sadness. 
 Aye, and the heartaches, too, that thou 
 Wouldst bring me in the measured flow 
 Of five long tiresome and weary years. 
 For all thy movables and diastole 
 Augment enclitic paradigm and all 
 Hiatus crasis and elision, now 
 I don't care a digamma. 
 
94" THE JUNIORS FAREWELL TO GREEK. 
 
 For should I live so long until 
 
 My head be hoary with the weight of years, 
 
 Or shining with a scarcity of hair 
 
 Like some professor of thy literature 
 
 Honored and venerable, 
 
 And ever through this multitude of years 
 
 Be learning Greek, and fling away my life 
 
 In thy weird depths inscrutable eternity, 
 
 Then sad equivalent for such a price 
 
 Would I know something, and be able then 
 
 To comprehend and point the places out 
 
 Wherein the ancient authors were obscure, 
 
 And with sublimely idiotic look 
 
 Repeat the parrot cry, " how beautiful ! " 
 
 And thy appendages of heathen myths 
 
 And deities and legends fabulous 
 
 Can but remind us of the wondrous tales 
 
THE JUNIOR S FAREWELL TO GREEK. 95 
 
 (That Stirred in their imagination wild 
 Our youthful blood) told by the pen 
 Of great Munchausen. 
 If author of the present day should write 
 Achievements so absurd and tales outlandish, 
 To-day's great classicist would frown on him, 
 Then to his musty ancient hobby turn 
 And say : '* How elegant, how beautiful, 
 How entertaining, Grecian literature." 
 
 The world improves as cycles roll away 
 And much that is of vantage is retained, 
 The truly valu'ble is seldom lost, 
 And, craving pardon, Greek, if thou hadst been 
 The vehicle most suited to convey 
 The human sentiment from soul to soul 
 Thou wouldst not be so practically dead, 
 Nor when a score of centuries have fled 
 
96 THE junior's farewell TO GREEK. 
 
 Send back thy ghost unsavory to haunt 
 The palUd student of a brighter day. 
 
 I praise the steed 
 
 That bore me o'er the roughness of the way, 
 
 And with his mystic wings across 
 
 The yawning chasm where no bridge 
 
 Spanned the dark gulf, and through 
 
 The gorges intricate and riddlesome 
 
 Resounding with the groaning and despair 
 
 Of those who, honester than I, 
 
 Had struggled hither with a brave intent 
 
 As footmen do, and now had paused 
 
 With bruised and bleeding feet beside 
 
 Some darksome torrent they could never pass. 
 
 Others by reason of the length 
 
 Of each day's journey hesitated — stopped. 
 
 So one by one from out our rugged path 
 
THE junior's farewell TO GREEK. 9/ 
 
 As went the days we missed them, 
 
 And then with sadly given parting word 
 
 Pressed on our weary way, 
 
 Knowing, alas ! too well, in all the course 
 
 We ne'er would see such welcome face again, 
 
 Nor feel their fellow sympathy and cheer 
 
 Companions of our sorrow and our joy. 
 
 Now, Greek, farewell. 
 
 At last I close 
 
 Thy thumbed and grimy pages with a sigh. 
 
 But not like Byron's prisoner, who made 
 
 Friends of his. fetters. Not a happy spot, 
 
 No bright oasis in the desert drear 
 
 In all my reminiscences of Greek 
 
 Will turn my truant memory back to thee. 
 
 7 
 
MM^hkl 
 
 SANDY'S LINDON. 
 
 T Colby when the sun was low, 
 
 A falling sounded, blow on blow, 
 In old South College, where they go 
 To cut up all their deviltry. 
 And Sandy saw a wondrous sight, 
 When he got up and lit the light, — 
 A liberal bin of anthracite 
 Lay by his door invitingly. 
 
 Now Sandy was a frugal lad, 
 And great economy he had. 
 So when he saw the coal — *•' Bedad," 
 Said he, ''they treat me lib'rally." 
 
SANDY S LINDON. 99 
 
 So with his coal-hod fast arrayed, 
 
 He fell upon the bait they laid, 
 
 But something down his spine that played 
 
 Cut short our hero's revelry. 
 
 And Sandy had a great nightmare, 
 
 And dreamed they fired down the stair 
 
 All things that happened to be there, 
 
 Both portable and handy ; 
 
 Of hods and base-ball shoes a score, 
 
 A dog and the cat of '84, 
 
 That fought and scratched and bit and tore, • 
 
 And made it hot for Sandy. 
 
 ^4^..:igfe.^*. 
 
 -fc-.tga- 
 
HOULTON ACADEMY. 
 
 h7)ALLID Luna, through the rifting, 
 Glances down from cloudy seas 
 On the time-worn walls, uplifting 
 
 Far above surrounding trees ; 
 Pointing up with thousand fingers 
 
 To the heaven that's bending o'er, 
 'While the student fondly lingers 
 
 Near the old familiar door. 
 
 And, beside the well-worn traces 
 Of the facade, come in view 
 
 Shadowy, misty old-time faces, 
 
 Shadowy forms that once he knew ; 
 
 And a pleasant sadness, stealing 
 O'er the spirit most divine, 
 
HOULTON ACADEMY. lOI 
 
 Bears him back, in thought and feeling, 
 To the days of old lang syne. 
 
 Lo ! a student toiling dreary 
 
 Through the years as on they roll, 
 Oft discouraged, sad, and weary, 
 
 Presses onward to the goal-; 
 Toiling thro' with ancient nations, 
 
 Caesar's vivid Gallic wars. 
 Struggling with the dull orations 
 
 To the Roman senators. 
 
 Where the broad Euphrates flows, and 
 
 Where the winding Tigris lay, 
 With the ancient Greek ten thousand 
 
 Wandering he lost his way ; 
 And he follows eager ever. 
 
 By the low descending sun, 
 By the Babylonian river. 
 
 And the Persian battle done. 
 
102 HOULTON ACADEMY. 
 
 And Cunaxa's hillocks gory 
 
 With the blood of thousands flow 
 In the old Athenian's story 
 
 Of the struggle long ago, 
 And the lips that in the morning 
 
 Cheering from the phalanx rolled, 
 Lay with evening dew adorning 
 
 In the moonlight pale and cold. 
 
 In a land of Persian strangers 
 
 Weary Grecians rest the head 
 Worn.with toil and battle dangers, 
 
 Cyrus numbered with the dead. 
 Still in fancy Isle Euboea 
 
 Rises to their eager eyes, 
 And with vine-clad hills Morea 
 
 Nestling under sunny skies. 
 
 Still there's joy for labor's wages. 
 And the student loves to dwell 
 
HOULTON ACADEMY. IO3 
 
 On the old JEne'id pages 
 
 Gifted Virgil wrote so well ; 
 Lo ! the Grecian armor gleaming 
 
 From the Epeon decoy, 
 And the fiery banners streaming 
 
 O'er the homes of ruined Troy. 
 
 And the hope that erst was given 
 
 Ilian Hector could not save, 
 And the Trojans forth are driven 
 
 Over every ocean wave, 
 Where the foamy surges tremble 
 
 From the hollow ocean roar, 
 Wrecked and weary they assemble 
 
 On the Carthaginian shore. 
 
 And the student still is bending 
 
 O'er the gems of ancient lore. 
 While the evening shades descending 
 
 Weirdly glide upon the floor 
 
104 HOULTON ACADEMY. 
 
 With their phantoms chill and dreary, 
 While the hours come and go 
 
 Till the aching brow is weary, 
 Till the vigil lamp is low. 
 
 Now 'tis over ; and he lingers 
 
 Near his alma mater's door, 
 And above the elmen fingers 
 
 Sway as in the days of yore, 
 But the towering walls before him 
 
 Shall no more their story tell, . 
 For the breezes wafting o'er him 
 
 Mingle with his last farewell.