PS 1473 .C2 Copy 1 I jfl :l!l Clllillk ■'''liil! iV JD INK SKETCH— BY PROF. CROMWELL. oiW^W^^^'0^^^^ . ^ 1. ijO* Manager ok the Grand Opera House, Mr. T. HENRY FRENCH. Manager for Mr. French, Mr. W. H. M.A.THEWS. Manager for Prof. Cromwell, Mr. B. F. CROMWELL. Copyright, 1887, By GEORGE REED CROMWELL. Press of J. J. Little & Co. Astor Place, New York. She I<;night op ^bbotspoi^d. BY PROF. CROMWELL. If Fancy could paint the glory of morn Or Art more than trace what Nature has drawn, Then Hope might assist my pen to portray The beautiful known beyond Vis- ion's sway ; With courage derived from what has been wrought By artistic means when freighted with thought, I venture to tell of scenes far away That dwell in the mind as light does with day ; There Memory views a sanctified place Where Romance and Fact were courted with grace, To garland the fame of Abbotsford's Knight, Whose generous pen put envy to flight, By giving his kind (with Poesy's aid) Examples of how great heroes are made. Thus seating Content and Love on a throne Where heart bound to heart can pillow a stone. This " Wizard of Thought " bade History speak Of strength serving well the timid and weak ; Commending the good to Honor and Fame, The frail he essay'd to better in name. He caution'd the young to treasure the heart, And Commerce to aid the triumph of Art ; O'er mountain and vale a romance he threw That ages to come will welcome as new. From purple gray mists brave chieftains he brought To furnish his tales with battles well fought ; The " Silvery strand " and Ellen's fair isle He gave such a grace as dwells in a smile ; In Melrose he found (for poetic eyes) By far more than stones that arch to the skies ; For there day and night in rivalry shine To show to the eye the charm of design — Which Time may impair but never entomb For Art is the twin of Natural bloom. Events of the past he brought quite as near As truth will permit a shade to appear : Enchanting each theme with harmonic rhyme. As if to make earth bear fruit of one cHme. Thus Abbotsford stands, with terraces crown'd By towers of strength where treasures abound. Of value to man beyond even gold. Or gems that the earth may secretly hold ;- The picturesque halls of curious things, The paintings of crests, the armor of kings, The library chair, the books on the shelves, All seem to regard much more than themselves ; For they are the frame of Poesy's Knight Who won with his pen the spurs given right, — Yes, there it is thought has far greater sway Than many a joy awak'd by the day ; — Than even the cross with rubicund flame That jewel'd the lakes he flooded with fame. The bloom of the plant that fades from the eye In perfume repays the smile of the sky. Thus Beauty flows on through channels unseen To guide us beyond the visual screen Where love like to his will ripen the soul, For welcome at last, where peace is the goal. ^ BAGHBLOI^'S I^EYEf^IB. I'RoF. CROMWELL in N. 1'. U'orld. 'TWAS Cupid advised me, when youthful, The beautiful girls to adore ; But now that I'm older, and truthful, I love more than ever before ; The girls I avow are more charming Than when I first danc'd to their will, For to their caprice (quite disarming) Tm dancing submissively still. With Cupid alone for adviser, Each beauty subdued me at sight, But now that my judgment is wiser, I know that in youth I was right ; Your confidence, girls, still possessing, I may with decorum recall. How selfish would be the caressing Of one, when I feel I love all. My bachelor wooing is chilling To blossoming youth, I am told, Yet some one there may be still willing To shelter my heart from the cold ; So, girls, while your pardon requesting For singing your praises in verse, It may be worth while my suggesting There's much that I might have done worse. ^HO Won THE 0)AID? PROF. CROMWELL in Freiind^ s M iisic and Drama. Twin Sprites there are on land and sea Who never cease their revelry ; And neither one has science weighed, Though they are known as Light and Shade ; Respectively they each are rich, Though some folks know not which is which, Till nearly at their journey's end, And then they only comprehend The joy or pain they may have met. Not caring much what they beget ; But age will show the lines they trace Around the windows of the face ; For light and shade must ever sway The moments lost to make the day. As helpless leaves were wafted by The winds that pierce the mortal eye ; These Sprites, at games that never cease, Saw drawing near, a maid of peace ; And this is what the brothers said A\'ith manners of the high-born bred. Quoth number one, " In me you see A suitor, maid, to equal thee In all that constitutes the joy That worldly means alone employ ; I own the land, so be my bride. And I will open portals wide, When life shall be a holiday For thee and thine to while away ; Thine eyes shall never shed a tear, For I will always hover near To screen thee from the fickle light, Whose love will give thee to the night I'll constant be, my pretty maid, For I am known to man as Shade." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " says number two, " Can such as he be ever true ? He has not kept a promise yet ; He soon will, loving thee, forget ; For gold alone can never buy A luster for the faded eye, Or give the cheek a roseate hue ; 'Tis I alone that such can do ; For I am Light, I fill thy kind With treasure not to shade confin'd ; I'll give the azure of thine eyes The brilliancy of star-lit skies ; Upon thy brow and snowy breast, The dewy pearl shall nightly rest ; I'll give a bloom to lip and cheek, Such as the sighing zephyrs seek ; While wreathing round thy golden hair A glory bright as morning air ; These gifts, and more, I offer thee. If thou wilt rest content with me Within the spheres to mortals known. And yet with freedom all thine own." " Believe him not," says number one, " His power is only from the sun ; His is the Light and mine the Shade, And all his Summer wealth I fade : The shivering leaves have fear to tread Amid his darlings, long since dead." " 'Tis false," replied the brother sprite, " His power is second to the night ; Oh, cling to me, thou tiny seed. And with the Spring-time, I will speed Thy floral beauty to a bloom. That shall the spheres unseen perfume." Then, each in turn, the twins danc'd round The virgin seed above the ground, Till light and shade and seed were lost In inky night and Winter frost. Who won the maid ? Go ask the Spring, When Winter's chill hath taken wing ; Go ask the bloom, ask sight to tell ; Perhaps the birds will help to swell The wedding march of beauty's fate, When perfume and the sunshine mate ; Ask of the earth where rests the shade If 'twas not Light that won the maid. So Uei^y QUebi^. PROF. CROMWELL in N. V. World. She's very queer, yet kind to those Who hear her story out ; The young folks think she hardly knows Just what she talks about ; — His eyes, she says, were brighter far Than all the worlds above, For they brought nearer than a star The gentle light of love. Yes, she is queer, we all confess. And yet her wrinkled face Has such a wealth of tenderness, She needs no youthful grace ; — She talks of one so long away And hearts so far apart ; She says, it seems but yesterday That he was near her heart. 'Tis hard to make her comprehend That she has told before The story of a sailor's end Upon a friendless shore ; — She says he was to duty true And bravely met his doom, Insisting that his eyes of blue Still guide her through the gloom. Perhaps when we approach the shore Where worldly journeys end. We, too, may tell our stories o'er And younger ears offend ; — For age has thought from youth apart, And only time can teach The charity of mind and heart That ought to govern each. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 785 804 P