LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©]^. @ijpi|rig]^t !f 0, Shelf ....I...:. ■ . UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ^ X W. A. ENGLE, M. D. La Fold and Euridice 21 poem IN TWENTY-TWO BOOKS OR CANTOS EMBRACING Many Common and Tragic Scenes of Life r' JUL 28 1893' By Washington A; Engle, M. D. ' / Hartford, Mich. AUTHOR OF "THE THREE BEAUTIES," AND "MVSTERV OF MYSTERIES." Copyright 1893, by W. A. Engle, M. D LA FOLD AND EURIDICE, THE WORK OF MY MIND, I DEDICATE TO EMILY D. ENGLE, MY WIFE, AND WOMAN OF MY HEART. PPvELUDE. O HOW strange is the lot of all humankind, And stranger the workings of soul ! Our affections most strange and foolishly blind, And o'er them we have no control. God breathes on our souls, and we move, and we live. While holding communion by prayer ; He will all our sins and transgressions forgive. And will break every cloud of despair. When scourg'd by afflictions, the tempests of life. And we call on him in distress. He will lighten our wrongs, and conquer in strife. And quickly relieve us, and bless. Though earth and its forces combined seem oppos'd, And whisper adverse things to us. If we earnestly ask, and are rightly disposed, In God we safely can trust. From among the mix'd scenes of this busy earth, He will bring out whatever we need, And blendingthe worthless with those of great worth, A blessing to us thej^ will read. [5] 6 PRELUDE, From the smallest events great things will come forth When mov'd by the God-given power ; And people will come from the South and the North, To fill the fix'd place and the hour. We, directed by him, our destinies fill. Which are shapened by him as we pray ; For such he has said is his consummate will. To lead us from darkness to day. How attachments most strange do bind two as one, We never the mystery can solve ; And all we can say is, The Lord's will be done, Which doth each enigma evolve. Pensive stands Euridiee with listeuiuo; ear. [ See page 7.J LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. CANTO I. This poem opens with Euridice waiting on the appointed spot, to meet La Fold on a beautiful evening of early summer, at whicli he fails to be present, for some reason unknown to her. Her position and anxiety of mind while waiting and looking for him. She soliloquizes in regard to the matter. Bends her steps home- ward, while she debates in her mind the cause of his absence. While so doing, she enters her silent room, which she paces in a discontented manner, wringing her hands and crying. She retires to rest, but sleep flies from her eyes, while she tries to imagine the cause of his absence. She falls into a fitful sleep, and dreams a curious dream, and awakens in fright and thinks about its inter- pretation. The dawn of morning makes her still more wretched than ever, where this canto leaves her. Pensive stands Euridice, with listening ear To know if any steps approach. While here, The gentle zephyrs phijful kiss around ; She breathes a sigh from her sore heart unbound. These zephyrs bear it off on merry wing, And mix it with the voices of the spring. Again slie listens, and again she sighs. Then rolls inquiringly around her eyes, From which bright beauties leap without control — The very off'rings of her inmost soul. ['1 O LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. Soft evening's twilight, with a gentle power, Is mantling earth, and sealing eveiy flower, With niistv veil the distant hills conceals. And settling down, is darkening all the fields. She gazes forth, straining her utmost view. Through thickening night and the descending dew. For one engaged to meet her on this spot ; But night approaches, and this person, not. Without^ all nature seems in perfect rest, Within, the storms of care distract her breast, Here, hopes dejected frown, and cyclones groan, TJiere, green earth smiles, and perfect peace is known The moon, just rising o'er the eastern height, Sheds over earth a pale and silvery light ; And paints each object with extended shade. Likewise the noble form of this fair maid ; While trouble's ocean, with a swelling tide, Her bosom more than fiU'd, and thus she sigh'd, — "O guardian Spirit, hovering from above. Why should I be the sport and mock of love. And like a helmless ship upon the sea. The waves of passion beating on poor me ? 'Gainst them in vain must I forever strive, Driven by winds where'er they chance to drive, Borne on in every way, now here, now there, •Now by alluring hope, now by despair ? CANTO I. y " To-day, perhaps, my skies with pleasure smile. The sea of rising thoughts as calm, meanwhile. Doth mirror forth the countless gems which shine High in the concave of the pondering mind ; Then turns, storms rise and darken in the air. And disappointments whirPd by furious care Break up the peaceful waters of this sea, While groaning whirlwinds sweep about poor me. "Then one deep gloom encompasses the soul, And deepest night seems stretcli'd from pole to pole, Portentous of a near impending close. When death shall swallow up the last repose. "And then, perhaps, some dawning hope may smile And lift the gloom, though little be the while ; And then again some stormy woe may pour Into my bosom its unceasing roar ; Thus am I tossed about on life's strange sea, And from tempestuous cares am never free. "O clouds of sweet imaginary bliss, For which we so much yearn, but yearn amiss. Pour down a copious shower of joys unknown Into my thirsty soul, now making moan. And water every longing fiber there. That peace may bud, and banish cankering care. "O send to me that youth for whom I grieve. Who promised here to meet me on this eve ; 10 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. " Or tell me where his wand'ring footsteps stray, And why they tread not tlie appointed way. Teach him to feel all he assumes to feel, To consecrated love his bosom seal, And O, to brighter glow my hopes renew, And those hopes realized, his love prov'd true." She ceas'd to speak and breathed another sigh ; Then, seeming, fixed her gaze upon the sky ; There, smiled a thousand watchers of the night, Waving to earth those smiles of holy light ; And yet she knew it not ; but seemed to be All lost, and gazing upon vacancy, Unconscious of the beauties there, which smilM, So firm her mind was fixed on that frail child. Who had her feelings wrought to that degree, That in nought else she could a beauty see ; Round him her thoughts were clung, her heart entwin'd, As round the oak the tender, curling vine ; To him her soul-confiding love was given. His frowns, her hell ; his smiles, her little heaven. The hours stole on, and with them stole despair Upon her heart, like death's cold shadows there. Homeward she bends her steps, voiceless and mute. But inward doubts are holding hot dispute ; And now she deems him fickle, false, and vain, Then thinks that cannot be, he '11 come again. Thus chasing one another, hope and gloom Through her sick soul, she found her silent room, CANTO I. 11 Her spirit overcome ; in floods of tears She weeps o'er disappointment, and her fears Curtain with doubt the past and coming years. Tliought, busy thought, with ever-searcliing eye About his absence often questions, Why ? Thus toss'd by doubt, sigh quick succeeds to sigh. She many answers and excuses frames, But none give satisfaction, all are lame. A restless discontent swims in her eyes, She walks the carpet, wrings her hands, and cries. She seeks her couch, but from her eyes flies sleep ; Within her bosom rolls an ocean deep Of restless woe, roiled up with grief and care, Expels each hope and ushers in despair. From side to side she turns and seeks for rest, But still that sea is rolling in her breast. And many streamlets full of silent woe Fill up her fount of tears to overflow. Wearied with doubt, and overcome with grief. The powers of Morpheus bring her short relief ; By pouring in her breast consoling streams, Which bear her mind into the land of dreams. She dreams that she is seated on the ground. Amid fair flowers, while pleasures dance around Like heavenly cherubs from the upper deep, To guard her here, and joyful vigils keep. The pleasing things of life about her swarm. 12 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. And friends with kindly smiles and bosoms warm ; When lo ! among them in her presence came A youth, and fixed on her an eye of flame. Her guileless soul was dazzled by the light, His smiles recalPd and fixed her wondering sicrht. Four brilliant orbs on one another shone Expressive of devotion all their own, — Devotion to us mortals seldom known. He pluck'd the fairest flower which clustered there, And placed it in her hand with gentle care ; Then smiling from his soul, he softly said, "To me this is your emblem, heavenly maid." And then retired with meditative mein, As though love ruled each inward thought and scene. No sooner gone than to her lips she pressed The lovely flower, and called its beauties blest, And in unnumbered ways gently caress'd ; Again its textures by her lips were felt Whose sweet perfumes upon her senses dwelt. A transient joy stole through her secret soul, And left its footprints on the vital goal ; Again this lovely flower she warmly eyed, And to herself, admiring, softly sighed, — "To him my emblem. O those words, how rare ! Would that I were as innocent and fair.'' Again she press'd the flower, a precious thing, Unto her lips, and felt a smarting sting ; CANTO I. 13 Forced from her mouth a k)ud and fitful scream, Then woke, affrighted, from her curious dream, Which like a real thing to her did seem ; But wakening, pondered on this vision fled, And thought she almost heard his hasty tread. As consciousness came back ; while through her brain Some special quizzings of its meaning came, And strange conjectures chas'd each other 'round. But satisfaction was not to be found. Now broke upon the world, morn's golden light, Chasing away the sable clouds of night, Hiding the stars behind a sun-lit veil, And bade this maid arise to weep and wail. And such is human chas'd by fortune's frown. When beauty smiles in everything around ; The joys without make deeper woes within. As righteousness makes deeper seem our sin. Though all things round and nature cry, " Rejoice ! " And everywhere is heard sweet music's voice. The wretched heart will oftentimes exclaim, ''These sights but deepen woe and strengthen pain. For while all living show life's joy and cheer, They tell us that our heart alone is drear." So felt this maid, as though the joyous light Press'd in her bosom all the shades of night ; And when new morn the glorious light unfurl'd, She felt as though within her inner world 14 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. The darkness of that night had gathered there, And through that gathered gloom, walked deep despair. But let us leave this beauty in her woe, Weeping her lover's absence, as we go To follow him through all his winding train. O'er far-off lands, and o'er the rolling main. He stripped his limbs, and naked near the shore Was kiss'd by briny billows o'er and o'er. [ Sec i);ige 17 CANTO II. Explanation why La Pold was absent from his appointed meet- ing with Euridice. The previous morning he visits the sea shore to bathe in tlie ocean, where he is made captive by pirates and hurried off into unknown waters. The state of his feelings de- scribed before and after liis capture. While on the pirate vessel he soliloquizes, and deplores his inability to meet his Euridice as per agreement. His mind wanders, and this canto leaves him in a crazed condition upon the wide ocean. The previous morn to that appointed hour, To meet his Em-idice of charming power, The prospects of La Pold were full of hope, Which in his bosom had an ample scope. But oft when joy is at its fullest flow, And we seem drinking happiness below. The gods, as if they envied us our state. Spread o'er our glorious path the snares of fate ; And, disappointed, drag us bleeding, blind. In spirits gloom'd, distracted in our minds. Upon the verge of dire misfortune toss'd. To mourn our fond anticipations lost. So with our hero, bless'd by powers above, Basked in the sunshine of the purest love. And dream'd of fairer, brighter days to come, [15] 16 LA FOLD AND ECKIDICE. A lovely wife, queen of a lovely home. But sad misfortune, proud of conscious power, Snatcird all these dreams away in one short hour, And bore him captive o'er the heaving sea, Hopeless of freedom, sighing to be free. For on that morn, ere scarce the break of day In seas of light had hid the stars away. He rose, yet longing for the day's decline. And sought to bathe himself in ocean's brine ; For this he came unto the sandy shore Where land and sea commune forevermore, KissM by the murmuring wavelets o'er and o'er — Where corals white, and shells, and gems, and pearls Shine as the heavens shine with thronging worlds — Where grand sublimity itself unfurls. Each object here feasted his wondering sight, And all he shap'd to suit a strange delight. And much he coupled by those laws divine Which in sweet wedlock man and wife entwine. The birds in couples sang from every tree, The tiny fish thus sported in the sea ; Each shell seem'd by its side to claim a mate, Save one which for her bridegroom seem'd to wait. And far away in grandeur proud and still Each rugged hill embraced its wedded hill. And nearer by upon the wave-beat shore. Rock clung to rock, as wooing evermore. Here ocean and the land seem'd to embrace, CANTO II. 17 And each to kiss in love tlie other's face ; And e'en the sky, spread out o'er heaven's steep, Saw his fair bride adorned down in the deep ; While manj clouds forth issuing from the niglit Most willinty was, with walls all spattered o'er With human blood, and pools were on the floor. And those sweet lives it held were now no more. No sooner was our stately vessel cleared Of bodies, heads, and goods, than there appeared CANTO VI. 73 A man with flaming fagots in his hand, And to our ship he gave the burning brand. Quickly the flames on the wliole vessel seize, They lick the sails and grapple with the breeze. High up in air their heated columns pour, They hiss, they crackle, and they loudly roar ; The mirror'd ocean now reflects the light. And from beneath attention now invites ; These rolling, flashing flames seem to descend And like the ones above in smoke to end. There seem'd descending from the burning hulk Flames which in motion, color, size, and bulk Were like the ones ascending very high. Which with their wings did cover up the sky ; And as the ones above arose smoke-crownM So seem'd to these, descending deeply down Till clouds of fire-fed smoke all rob'd in gray, Appear'd to cover up the nether day. Awhile these flames more grand and brighter grow, Both high above and in the deep below. For as above these high and higher rise. The sea gives back the image of the skies. With sadness we beheld our ship on fi]-e, Yet gazing thereupon could but admire. That grand old ship, expiring, fed a flame Of such proportion fancy seem'd in vain. 74: LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. Long time she burn'd sublimely bright And to the welkin gave a glaring light. When all at once an awful hiss was heard, And with that hiss the atmosphere was stir'd, Yast clouds of steam and smoke did then ascend, Down sank the ship, and all was at end. CANTO VII. Clouds of steam and smoke from the sunken ship fill the air, covering ujj the sky and hiding the setting sun. These clouds soon clear away. The pirates confine Hepnora and others in their vessel's hold, where they are kept confined until their vessel enters these pirates' harbor, which is surrounded by rocks, and hides them from the sight of seamen. Soon the vessel stands still, and these captives are let out, from whence they spring in great dis- gust, and haste from a place of wretchedness and filth. Hepnora looks about, and sees nothing to protect these pirates from storms. The tide is now at its full, but soon receding, reveals an under- ground passage-way leading to an island. In this a horn is blown and answered from a source unknown. Soon four honses drawing a heavy wagon appeared, which bears the pillaged goods through this opening. But soon the tide begins to rise, when they all enter into the opening and pass through to the island, where Hepnora sees houses built of all forms to shelter these pirates from storms. And here he sees very many precious mementos taken from those who had been slain by these pirates, and placed here by bloody and cruel hands. Soon all about was strict tranquillity, And lifted just above a peaceful sea Were clouds of steam and smoke so vast in size, That with their wings they cover'd up the skies, And hid from sight the glorious orb of day Which in the west was pushing on its way. [75] 76 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. As sank this vessel proud beneath the wave, So sink we mortals proud into the grave. Awhile we float with health and beauty crown'd, But soon disease like flames wraps us around, We helpless writhe awhile and then go down ; Thick clouds of grief darken the setting sun Of friends awhile ; but these soon, too, are gone. And not a trace of us is left to say We ever lived. Then day succeeds to day. The waves of time forever o'er us close While we forgotten sleep in death's repose. Awhile these solemn scenes impress'd the eye. Our vessel had gone down as those who die ; The sun serenely crept along its way As though this had not been a dreadful day. Shortly ivithout no cloud was left behind, But those loithin still gloom and darken mind. The looks from friends when they were doom VI to die Still hang their terrors o'er my memory's eye ; To see such heads dissevered by a blow From hearts so pure, was not a cortiinon woe, And never can forgotten be. The steel I see still flash ; and what they felt, I feel. It fills me with a pain naught else can give ; 'T will live within as long as I shall live ; Beholding still their crimson lives outflow. And hearing still their groans of dying woe. CANTO VII. 77 Now these dare-devils grown intensely bold, OontiiiM us captives in their vessel's hold, And here in filth and wretchedness confined, From all withcjut kept ignorant and blind, We were convej'd unto their island home — So caird by them, — which 'mid the ocean's foam. Rises abrupt with steep and rocky coasts. So that a score could hold them 'gainst a host. A narrow neck of sea feeds a small bay Where ships at anchor might in safety lay ; This bay by solid rocks is walFd around The same as are upon the island found. Which give protection from the storm and wind And hide from view what seamen seek to find. Here table rocks for them a wharf afford, From which with ease these outlaws went aboard ; And here they pil'd their plunder, dearly bought By price of blood (if that availeth aught), Then bore that booty off unto their home, Lock'd up in secret, to the world unknown. This bay we enter'd which we had not seen. Still being kept in hold dirty and mean. And soon this vessel all at once stood still, The splash of waves no more our senses fill'd ; The engine's laboring puff was heard no more But voices echoed from an unknown shore. 78 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. The bolts which held us, quickly were shoved back, Which harshly grated in their rusty track ; The door upon its hinges open Hew, And precious light once more broke on our view, Wliich to our senses everything gave shape. And our cursed cell with filth and offals draped. At this revolting sight which now we saw. Where stench and great disorder were the law, Tliink you command and order needed we For to come forth and be in measure free? I tell you, nay, for when that door was swung. Like deer-mice caged, we from that prison sprung ; And had we been push VI back, pale death had been Kather than we in that black vault of sin. Having come forth and out-of-doors once gain'd. No earthly power could put us back again ; These murderous thieves did not that power assume, But rather seem'd rejoiced that we had room In which to breathe and move in the fresh air. Our clothes were daubed and matted was our hair ; We look'd the very pictures of despair, And were its victims — victims personified — And thought it had been well if we had died With those dear ones now sleeping 'neath the tide. In spite of our sad plight of looks and smell. My eyes mark'd well whatever they beheld. And here within this rock-surrounded bay, CANTO VII. Y9 Wherein this pirate vessel quiet hiy, Close by the wharf which nature's hand hud made, From solid rocks of a volcanic grade, — I often asked myself, "What do these here In times of cold and winds and storms severe ? " for looking 'round I nothing here could see, Shingle or rocks that could a shelter be. Just now the tide was at its fullest flow, As marks upon the rocks disclosed below ; So were the spirits of these desperate men, Living on plunder, now had found great gain. What our conditions were they did not care, If only they could mock us, curse, and swear ; The worse for us the better 't were for them. The more they could deride and call us men. By eye unpitied, here we helpless stand, No power to aid or lend a helping hand ; Of peace, of hope, of everything bereft, By outlaws guarded on our right and left, Our clothes bedaubed with filth — matted our hair, " Where can we turn ? O Heaven, tell us where ! " In depth of grief, in silence thus we cried, While yet we washed in the receding tide. Meanwhile their ship with ease they did unload. And on the wharf in piles the goods were stow'd ; Scarcely a word was said, nor questioned they, 80 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. What should their shelter be at close of day ; But every one seeuf d willing for to wait, And trust to the developments of fate ; While wretched we were anxious for to know What the near future would on us bestow. Still down and down sank the receding tide, When lo ! an inlet cave stood open wide. Through which an ample passage seem'd to be Into the island from the tidal sea. In this a horn was loudly blown, And it was answerM from a source unknown ; When one of us exclaimed : ""What do we hear? The earth has opened and all hell is near." And rumbling wheels and horses' clattering feet With much surprise did now our senses greet ; And from this cavern's mouth soon did proceed A heavy car drawn by four prancing steeds. Four sat therein with military air. Each wore a face which said, " I do not care." And discipline was there of nerve and will, Each knew his place and well that place did fill ; Each horse well train'd his duty truly knew And o'er tlie rocks the ponderous chariot drew. Lashed in the course they rein and voice obeyed And stood unbid where plunder was display'd. At the command at once these did alight And fiU'd the car with pillage from the fight ; Then word was given which by each horse was known, CANTO VII. 81 The wheels roll'd round, and as they rolPd they groan'd, And rumble on a pavement made of stone ; Back through the cave they hurried on their way, And darkness hid them from the face of day. As these from sight and gaze did disappear. Their clatter slowly died upon the ear. The secret to our senses stood confessed, Their ways were known, and purposes were guess'd. Soon they returned and hurried on their way In the same military style as they Had left. Again the car with goods they pile And hurried them away through this defile Made through the solid rocks there at theii- home. In dark seclusion and by us unknown ; In some dark room by us all unsurveyed, And yet unsearched, tliese valuables were laid. Returning quick and oft they liurried home Like bees with honey from another comb. But soon the tide began to slowly rise, And entered the cave's mouth before our eyes. They knew right well that dangerous was delay ; They bade us rise and enter. We obeyVl ; But marcli'd mistrustful of eacli object 'round. As we this passage entered underground. 6 82 LA VOl.n AND EUKiniCE. With gloom beniglited seeufd the disnitil way As darkness hid us from the face of day ; Were led by ruffians skilTd but never kind. And push\l along bv arm'd men from behind ; Our footsteps echo'd as Ave went it blind. As we this labyrinth of gloom did tread. The rook about re-echo\l overhead. Returning oft, the noise our footsteps nnide, Told of projecting roeks and high arcades ; Led by the guide, we hurried on our way, When soon at distance we beheld the day, Which seem'd at first to be a dot of light, While all about us were the shades of night. But as wo nuirch'd [nud hurriedly we went), This dot of light a brighter radiance sent. And in circumference seem'd to larger grow, xVnd speak a language which we did not know Slowly it grew until the yery last When light of day was all about us east ; And lo, an island stood to us revealed. With rocks and hills and vallevs unconcealed. Here lived these pirates, shelter'd from the storm By houses built of every size and form, From such material as they best could find On sea or land or both of them combin'd. And with such curious workmanship was wrought As fancy e'er conceiv'd or knowledge taught. * CANTO VII. 83 And liere these houses hill-surrounded stood, And full in front a labyrinth of wood, Defiant rose huge rocks on every shore, Where tempests how], and billows dash and roar. And ocean's waves in all tlieir storni-beat rage, Had vainly surg'd about from age to age. Thus hem'd about by ocean's strong embrace This point was made their operative base ; From which against all navies war was waged, In which with bloody zeal these all engaged. Which was by ])lunder not the least assuaged. With eyes observant I these scenes survey'd, And well each action of these outlaws weigh'd, And in most dangerous i:)]ace8 tliem obey'd. Their utmost confidence I souglit to gain — Made seem a pleasure what to uie was pain. I ran before their wants and sought to fill The nomenclature of their wicked will ; Each self puffed up, he deem'd himself a god. While God hung over each his chast'ning rod ; But to all goodness lost, by sin controlled, The Hand that goaded, they did not behold. Thus Vjeing held, they sought those deeds to find Which drove them on to miseiy, mad and blind. Here some of earth's most costly things were stored. Whose rightful owners had been put to sword. 84 LA rOLD AND EUllIDICE. Whose fall, in glory's hour, by villain's hand, Had, as a garb, stretcli'd mourning o'er the land ; For which we had resolv'd to make amend, And bring these outlaws to a speedy end. In this we utterly had fail'd. While they Upon the world continually did prey. And now they'd fallen upon us, and made A mockery of our short-handed blade. Here stor'd were gifts which in the sight of Heaven, From hearts of deep affection had been given. Whose real value would indeed outweigh Full many costly things. While truly they To the possessor did in truth portray Such volumes wealth of words could never give, — Volumes that ever speak, and breathe, and live. And tell the tale of love of other days In manners strange and in heart-rending ways. Yet to these thieves were naught more than they 'd bring When sold for gold unto some earthly king. Here lay a rich design inwove with gold. And shining hair, most curious to behold. It showVl a field, and in that field a heart Transfix'd and pierced by Cupid's quivering dart. That heart lay bleeding. You could almost swear That blood was oozing from the quiver's tear. CANTO VII. 85 No question, this had by a maid been given To some brave youth whose soul was now in heaven, That he had often kissM it o\;r and o'er While ])raying to that God wliom we adore. This unto him that tale had often told Which she luid told to him in times of old, Which was repeated as this gift she gave To him who sought the dangerous sea to brave, To try his fortune on the restless wave, Which something run like this — if I might tell Those secret words long kept and cherished well : — " This gift I give to you, and may it be In mj' own stead while traversing the sea, To talk and sweet communion hold with thee ; And while this gift upon your shrine I lay, Do not upbraid for what I have to say. Or my forced words or sentiments betray. "Within the inmost recess of my soul Tliere is a secret place which jon do hold. And though the storms of life do war around. Yet still within, your image fix'd is found ; By it most strange emotions I am taught. It rides reflected on each rising thought, And is remirrored in a thousand ways, While each reflection whispers forth your praise. "Since, then, you are within this inner life ' So sacredly enshrined, 'mid war and strife, 86 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. The thought, How can I hide these things from thee ? Time after time intrudes itself on me. The more I strive, and longer to conceal. The more alive, and stronger the appeal, Till tired of war, I yield to its control. And show to you your image in my soul. And in this gift this bleeding heart behold, Bleeding my life away, most strange and droll ; And while you view, dear sir^ O gently deal. Life's strings are here, life's destiny you seal. " Soon you will leave these cherished scenes, and go Where ocean's waves shall toss you to and fro, And we may never meet again. Ah no ! And when amid torn ocean's awful roar. Look on this gift and think of native shore. And of the giver, who has vainly sought To quell love's flame. But effort danger wrought. And gave but fuel to that strange, wild fire Which she had sought to quench. It rose the higher, I yield'd then the field to it and you. And to all hope of quelling bade adieu. "You have the secret now. Brave youth, forgive And generously this costly gift receive." Before such vows by such a beauty given What man could stand unmoved this side of heaven ? This youth could not, nor need I pause to say That here and now he gave his heart away. CANTO VII. 87 And in most solemn manner promised he Her other life and other self to be. And of these vows Heaven a record made, But their fulfillment all the fates forbade. These pirates cross'd his path and made his grave Beneath the sea in some unfathom'd cave, Here he doth sleej) and here his life is furPd, While o'er him sweep the navies of the world. He lies beneath the ocean's swelling tide, While she on that of busy life doth glide, Nor knows she of the cause of his delay, And restless often asks about his stay. While looks of sadness she cannot control Sit vampire-like upon her naked soul. And such is life when sadness holds the rein, Its course is misery, and its end is pain. Here these mementos in their beauty wreathed, And made of artifice which almost breathed. Which seem'd to have been wrought by hand divine. Now gently whispered to this heart of mine. Yet here it was neglected and alone, Press'd by most uncouth rocks on shelf of stone. And what about the hands who placed it there — Those hands of blood and death — what did they care? 88 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. For the rich lanojuage which it breatird and spoke, For wliat it plead, or wliat it did invoke? They only joy'd in giving otliers pain, And gloi-ied they the most when most was slain, When greedily they gathered np this spoil, And thonghtless, washed therefrom the blood-stained soil ; Then in this secret place hid it away. Against the coming of a future day, WJjen it conld then be sold for earthly gain. Counting as naught its cost in human pain. CANTO VIII. Hepnora explains his condition of mind wliile viewing the mementos found on the pirate island ; and while looking around, beholds a brace of ringlets which had been taken from his only child, which he describes. He weeps and is chastised by a pirate, which Hepnora resents with piercing looks ; a])out which the pirate makes comments in language he thinks not understood by Hepnora, but which Hepnora understood, and seeks to ol)tain their good grace by showing his daring disposition. Meanwhile a meal is being prepared by skillful cooks, of which the pirates partake with a keen relish. The captives are permitted to satisfy them- selves on the pirates' leavings. Soon darkness sets in, and the captives are put into a miserable cave room, and are here conlined all night. But morning at last appears, and the pirates witliout are heard discussing their plans of operation for the day. Soon the rock is roll'd away from the door of the captives' prison-]ien, and morning light streams in, when the captives are let out, and allowed to breakfast on the crumbs left by tliesc outlaws, against which they spleen. A make-believe breakfast being eaten, the captives are commanded to go where they please, as the ocean walls them in, which they gladly do. These thoughts in haste went swimming through my mind, While looking 'round on ones of kindred kind, Which here neglected and secluded laj, So highly prized and valued in their day. [89 1 90 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. In rich design and artifice they shone ; E'en in this cave, deserted and alone. Now this, now that, my wandering eyeballs view, And each memento wakes some feeling new ; Some strange emotion of the inner man, To picture which I never, never can. While wandering thus about in search of what I could but vaguely tell, and still cannot, When I beheld with grief which set me wild A brace of ringlets from our darling child. This you had taken from his flaxen hair And braided with your hands with skill and care ; His name was woven there with strange device, — This your own self had done, and done it nice, Which you well know was given to a friend Who to a foreign country we did send, Our cause to try as well as to defend. This being here told of his awful end ; Familiar were its looks as are your own, And at the sight I inwardly did groan. The thoughts it did evolve fill'd me with woe ; I saw you all as you were long ago, And from my eyes the tears began to flow ; The sight vibrated every tender tie. That once had twin'd about the days gone by, • Which threw convulsions on my conquered soul. I strove but all in vain to self control ; CANTO VIII. 91 The fountain of my tears thus press'd, out-gush'd, And down across my face in torrents rush'd. These harden'd wretches saw this torrent wild, And cried, "Hold on, young man ; are you a child To weep like this and after mother cry ? Just stop this booing, and your face make dry ; Or we will stop your breath, and take your head To let it bleed and weep among the dead." These cruel words with iron cloth'd my mind ; I gave a look near kindred to the kind I gave the other who was dooming death ; He too fell back, and held awhile his breath. And look'd on me with wonder and surprise. As though a sword was leaping from my eyes ; I felt there was, and that the flashing steel Would in a moment for his vitals feel. He, trembling, saw and whispered to his mate : " This fellow has the stuff, and dare be great ; A man like him with such a pluck and fire, If rightly bent, would make what we desire, — A leader who for us would fill the bill ; A man whose very looks would pierce and kill. But let us farther temper him, and see If he can have enough of villainy ; But him to ruffle be our watchful care, For very few of us would hardly dare." 92 LA rOLD AND EUKIDICE. These words were said in sort of nndertoiic In language whicli lie thought to me unknown, Yet still I heard and understood right well. Though thej thought otherwise. But soon I fell In line with what he said, and sought to he Their devilish chief — chief in h j])ocrisy ; And in my waywardness make tlieni to feel My daring will whicli unto none would yield Save unto death when life had quit the field. Meanwhile a meal with culinary care. Emitting odors rich, the cooks prepare, And appetites made keen hy toil and fast Foretell that this will be a grand re])ast. Now seated all they watch with anxious looks The various movements of the busy cooks. Whoso skillful hands the tables do supply With tasteful food, whoso steam is rising high. A savory smell to every one went round, Pi'ompting the sharpened appetite to farther sound The source from whence it nxse, and gratify Their inward hungerings which aloud did cry. Desiring to be fed, and nothing less Would satisfy the call from emptiness. At signal to the table all proceed, And fall to eating as each one has need ; While wo, desiring, longing much to know If anything they would on us bestow, CANTO VIII. 93 Begin to feel, though every eye had wept, That the saliva ghinds our mouths liad wet, And thus had sharpened up our sense of taste Which felt that nothing now should go to waste. With these desires and cravings, war we waged While these were served, — to us it seem'd an age, And every moment a long, lingering hour. While hunger o'er us held its wasting power. At length the greedy outlaws got their fill. And each the table left to suit his will. In all things else strict discipline was served. But order here was not in least observed. Now here, now there, a vacant seat was made. Until they all a vacancy display'd. And crumbs and ruins scatter'd o'er the board, For some new order earnestly implor'd. And toe, in silence that we might be fed. E'en from the crumbs promiscuously outspread. Our prayers were heard, and thankful too we wei-e. As to the board we now were bid repair And eat our fill, in manner most unkind. Whatever of the fragments we could find. The rage of hunger we could not control, But fell to eating without stint or hold. Our inward cravings put all fear aside, And what our hand could reach our wants suj)plied. 04: LA rOLD AND EUKIDICE. What mostly we would loathe and cull uncleaD, Now eagerly we ate with relish keen, Even the fragments left by hated men We, push'd by hunger, eager swallowed then. When by the rage of hunger driven astray, What one will do, how little we can say. To this or that we 'd say we never could, Yet when we 're really tried, we '11 find we would. ■Twas so with us, driv'n by its rage severe, We swept the board without regard to fear. Ere long another sense upon us crept Just as this board had of its crumbs been swept, — A sense of being filFd and satisfied, Our inner wants and hungerings all supplied. Supply and want were even in the game. And both were met and satisfied the same ; And this was well for both, 't was truly said A step to'ard reconciliation made. And one remark'd, '" This does foreshadow good That we will be a common brotherhood." Henceforth I sought to show my inner man Or part of him which dared to do and stand Where fiercest dangers thickly hung about, And face defiant death, and put to rout The proudest, fiercest foes who ever dare To raise an impious hand to wrong a haii- — CANTO VIII. 95 To hide my better nature, and conceal Each warm emotion which my senses feel, And in their place to show my daring will When danger thicken'd, threat^iing me with ill. As we were till'd, the tables also clear'd, For all the eatables had disappeared ; Darkness began to close this dreadful day Which had been thrown along life's fitful way. The order being given, these scenes we leave And a dark room the whole of us receives. And here in silent darkness and alone, We ponder on our fate and inward groan. All of our past through niem'ry we survey, — Those happy days forever pass'd away. Imprison'd thus — the very worst made known — We, gloonrd in thoughts, our dreadful fate bemoan'd, And as we view'd those happy days gone by When all our joys were full, and hopes were higli ; The dreadful opposite came up to view, And harass'd up our feelings all anew ; Each thought, "Ah wretched us ! where are we now ? " See gathering gloom upon each clouded brow. Thick dangers are without, and many a snare. And in our souls deep down, ah, what is there ? Fierce, howling demons mock our every ])rayer, And stalking in our midst is fell Des])air 96 LA I'OLD AND EUKIDICE. Overturning all our }3oace. What does it not ? What shall we do i O Heaven, tell us what ! These to escape, O where shall we repair i Eternal powers above, direct us where ! " Thus in our agony of soul we cried, And earnestness the want of voice supplied ; Yet heaven above us seemed unyielding brass, And every plea was back upon us cast. By grief convulsed, and writhing to and fro. Deep buried in unmitigated woe. We in this darkness grop'd. What could we know But the deep sorrow which was on us piled. To mountain height, so huge, and deep, and wild That all things else were shut out from our view i Great drops of sweat like those of heavy dew Stood out on every brow. Yet sorrow here. Where brazen eyes had never known a tear, Was naught — where hands had shed the vital blood Of this world's noblest sons kjjown since the Hood. That night our beds and pillows were of stone. Our prison walls the same, which to each groan Gave speedy echo back. While torture wild Stalk'd in our midst, and on us misery piled, Which to describe I never, never can. Though given all the gifts possessed by num. The tale of awful woe these walls could tell. OANTU vm. 97 Would of tlicniselvc's make full a Dante's hell, And ours would be witliout a })arallel. Yet notwithstanding all, that night went by, And morning streak'd the oriental sky ; And as it did, all things were stir without. Among the murderous villains roundabout. Who talk'd about the order of the day. What plan would be most likely in its way To seize upon and gain the sought-for prize. Which in their dreams did now before them rise. And as their luck was good the day before. And much was added to their stolen store. They were more anxious that this day should bring To their own cherish'd spoils as rich a thing. Some one, and some another plan, preferr'd. And some of them approved, and some demurred. They loudly talked while we in silence heard, And listened to their every plan and word. At length it was resolved all should be left To the bold leader of this murderous theft ; And all would acquiesce and him obey Through all the coming dangers of the day. Soon, ^''Breakfast .^" rang in the same husky way As " Supper ! " had on the preceding day ; All rush'd and push'd, each pirate found his place. And fell to eating without form or grace. 7 98 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. These being served, without tlic least delay The rock which barr'd our door was rolTd away, Aud through the opening streamM the light of day. Hail, glorious light ! most wondrous and most fair Of all God's blessings, none with you coni])are ; He spoke the word, and from the depths of night You sprang^ full-fledg'd, O ever-wondrous light, With radiance cloth'd. Your many-color'd bow Was then about your mystic form, as now We see it hung about Niagara's brow. To us tired men how sweet its presence then ; Our very soids sprang up, and cried, '•'- Arnen I " As we were ordered from this prison-pen, Right forth we came as gladly to obey, And breathe fresh air, and see the light of day. At once we view'd all things which were around. The sea, the air, the sky, and solid ground. And through a passage or a rough-hewn door. We entered the same room where night before We sliar'd the supper I have just described, And scattered crumbs again our wants supplied. Yet not so pierced were we with hunger keen And against almost everything we spleen'd, As being somewhat filthy and unclean ; And very little from that board we chose. The crumbs and leavings of our pirate foes. CANTO YIII. 99 Nor were we long partaking of tliis meal ; But thought chased thought along, and banished weal — Most dreadful thoughts which you can never know — Those hasy thoughts which ever come and go, Now stripped of joy and laden down with woe. This sad condition surely was our own. Yet to each other we made nothing known ; Then surely mine reverted back on you, Your image I held sacredly to view. And prayed to God that he 'd those ties renew. Great waves of feeling surged within ray breast To mountain height, and would not be suppress'd, Again these press'd the fountain of my tears Whose flood I kept pent up within for fears. As when by tempests driven, great billows roll O'er ocean's boundless face, which strange and droll Dash on the shore ; then sink to the unknown, Deep underneath, within their secret home ; Sea press'd in the unmeasured depths beneath, Silent and dark, only to find relief, When by some deep and stirring cause again They' re brought to float upon the liquid plain — So these sank down in chambers of my soul While others held o'er me a strange control, And touch'd a hidden spring, when forth you rose With form most fair, refresh'd by sweet repose. 100 LA FOLD AN1> KUKIDICE. And floated o'er the niirror of my mind, Like H fail- cloud upon a peaceful wind, Breathing its inspiration, soft and kind. And for awhile serenity prevailed And full-fledged Hope on mental breezes saiTd, Which proniisM brighter, fuller joys to come. When you and I should meet again as one. But soon a cyclone of abject despair, Swept through my very being, everywhere. And leveled ev'ry hope. While fitful Care RaisM up its head and shouted, '' Victory ! " This urged disconsolation on its way ; And as that voice was echoed round and round, All things opposed were level'd to the ground. The gloom seeni'd stretch'd eternally away. And reason shut therefrom the light of day. Here sure we are and must forever be. My reason often whispered unto me. And then my mind would settle into gloom, And future hope find not a foot of room. Yet still behind all this there strangely fell An unknown voice, which said, "All may be well." Though all things wei'e adverse, I could but feel Its strange vibrations through my senses steal. Thus in my breast there was set up a war Between the light of hope and fell despair. Rolling from side to side the weighty car CANTO VIII. 101 Of deep anxiety, w^liieh as it rollVl Ground 'neath its tread the heartstrings of the soul. No doubt tlie others had within their minds Deep thoughts and feelings of a kindred kind, Which weighed tliein down in life's great vital scah; So that their appetites and senses fail'd. A few mouthfuls of crumbs we swallow'd down, More for a pretext than for real ground. Thus gloomy thought went striding through each breast, Disturbing peace and miird'ring every rest ; These also hung a gloom o'er every way, And slmt therefrom the hope of coming day. Thus liem'd about, O tell me — what could we, But yield ourselves to woe and misery ? And who could taste of breakfast at this hour Except by exercise of the will-power ? With sort of make-believe we breakfast ate Then folded up our arms, and back we sat ; As unmistakably to say, " We're done, And further orders wait," when up there sprung A man of features sharp and visage young, And spoke with an authoritative tongue, " Pris'ners, arise and go without delay, And be at liberty throughout the day. The ocean walls you 'round ; go, come, or stay ; 102 LA FOLD AND ETJRIDICE. Our rules are binding here, and you oheyP We heard with pleasure, and with joy obey'd. As glad we were to be from dungeon freed ; At once we rose, nor further orders sought, And forth we went as if from prison brought ; We breathed again blest heaven's vital air. And as we had been bid, we sought to share A day of freedom, though amid despair. This island now was open to us all. Which seeni'd a broad and ample field (though small). Above that cave which did ourselves enclose, That^ over this in lofty grandeur rose. A da}' to us from pain and labor free. Upon this island in immensity, Was broadest liberty when we compare This to the lot which had been ours to share. Within the vessel's hold and prison-pen (Which Heaven grant we may not see again). We felt ourselves enlarged, though poor and small, And gloom'd of mind. Yet notwithstanding all This bitterness of soul, wormwood, and gall, There was a sort of joy which weird up through The whole, o'erflowM, and did us all imbue. CANTO IX. At early day the pirates put to sea, leaving tlieir disabled be- hind to guard their stolen store. Also Hepnora and brother cap- tives are left to stroll about the island as they please, vpho view with adminition the various scenes about them. They, six in number, then seat themselves on a mossy stone and each proceeds to relate his history. Hepnora first tells his, which is well known to his wife, to whom he is talking. The ne.xt conceals his name and his country's, but tells an interesting story of his debauchery and downfall, over which they all weep and sob. Soon they recover themselves, and all talk together. Three tell a short tale of their lives. One had been sent as a minister to treat with a nation, and had fallen into the hands of these pirates. And one had sought and found a fortune in a foreign land, which he was bringing home. Now all was lost. Another tells how long these scenes will be remembered, which ends this canto. At early morn these pirates put to sea To execute tlieir round of villainy, And to bring back tlieir most unholy gain, To this lone islg, this isle of crime and pain. A few, who most were cripples, staid behind To guard the mutual interest of their kind, And to watch over their well guarded store While the main body sought abroad for more. And idle we, according to our charge Now roaniM abroad (to suit our wills) at large. [103] 104 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. Yet. we who captives were, were captives still, Thouij^li left behind to wander at our will ; This isle our cell, by ocean walTd around, Roofd hy the sky, and floorM by the roui>-h iijnnind. For a short time we all together walk'd (Six was our number) and together talkVl, ViewM the same scenes from cliffs and from defiles, And from volcanic rocks heap'd u]> in ])iles, And each though rough, defiant, rude, and wild, Look'd grandeur forth, and on us seem'd to smile, These smiles we oft returned ; yet, wretched, we As oft would sigh and wish that we were free. We, brothers in affliction, hand in hand LoiterM about in this curs'd pirates' land ; And then we sat upon a mossy stone. And freely talk'd about our days bygone. And here, remov'd from every human ear. Where nothing living save ourselves ccnild hear, Each one set forth his own historic tale, And all our bitter fate did now bewail. But first of all they wished me to relate My full events of life, its love, its hate. Its joy and woe, and everything combined, Which link'd me to the world and all mankind. O need I say how full my bosom grew As memory like a magic lantern threw CANTO IX. 105 Its pictures on tlic canvas of the soul, So like to life and vivid to behold ! In which you ]>laj\l a ])art so strange and droll, Wherein our own was made a common lot. And how to have it different each had sought ; How every effort made availM us naught, We loved each other, and that love would out. You know it all. I rose u])on my feet, And told the tale with pathos most complete. Then I sat down and lookM in every eye, For sure, and not a living one was dry. The next arose ; and I remember well His downcast looks as from liis mein they fell, But to describe those looks I never can Though I were given all the gifts of man ; From side to side he rolTd his gifted eye Which seem'd to swim in seas of misery. Fill'd full of clustering memories, he sigh'd, Met each inquiring glance, and thus replied : "My name and country I will not reveal. Our mutual good now bids me to conceal. Once fame and wealth and glory were my own. And a pure heart to a bless'd people known. My parents both alive, whole-souled, and free (As parents only can), doted on me, And chances for improvement on me piPd, Tltey being rich, and /, their onlij child. 106 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. "They thought me gifted as by nature bom, And all they had to do, was to adorn, "And I was proud that I could them repay, And made my mark in almost every way. And while I rode on fortune's topmost wav^e, And mingled voices cried, ' God save the brave ! ' There then was added to these joys of life, A heavenly minded and devoted wife. " Then what a heaven on earth was mine ! They call'd me noble, of a generous mind. And that my wife was near or qxdte divine." And here he chok'd — great tears came tumbling down. He sobM aloud., and so sob'd we around ; But gathering up at last his self-control, He said in all the fullness of his soul, — "In every rank alike her honor shone And charity and wisdom were her own. "But when our joys were full and spirits gay, All unforewarned came dismal death's array. And bore the angel of my life away. " Oh what a stroke ! About it who can tell? It changed my little heaven to a hell. "I then for first was introduced to grief, From whose dread hauntings there was no relief. Her gloomy shades were with me everywhere — CANTO IX. lOY At home, abroad, e'en while engaged in prayer. And froze me with the rigors of despair. " All things I tried without the least relief; Still ever present with me was this (jrief ; Wide staring at me with her hollow eyes Brimful of woe and sadness and surprise. And breathing out regrets. Torments arose, And strewed my walks with soul-convulsive throes. Thus torn and liem'd about, what coukl I then, O tell me, ye experienced sons of men, Thau do what many others have as well, — Drain that cursed cup, that beverage of hell ? " I drain'd it sure, and like to others fell, And can the same old wretched story tell. "There had been walking with me nimble Fame, Now in its stead came hobbling, limping Shame. "Great was the contrast then which met my sight As I came up from drunkenness to light ; And every look of that distorted face Kepeird me back to darkness and disgrace. In haste I drain'd the drunkard's cup anew To hide these scenes — these hated scenes — fi-om view ; And to restraint of morals bid adieu. "My friends forsook me then, and with a sneer. Each slyly whispered in the other's ear. 108 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. ' He 's gone to ruin, stranded in disgrace, A victim to Old AlcohoPs embrace ; His noblest deeds with drunkenness he blots, And jeers and wallows with tlie worst of sots.' "To me there was a meaning in their tone ; I grop'd along in darkness and alone, Not daring my condition to behold. When soberness the reins of mind control I'd. "They said, ' 'Twas his to always go astray But for his wife. She kept him in the way.' " No doubt her virtues did increase my own. Her judgment was correct in all things known, And when we differed, if we differed long, 'T was but to find at last myself was wrong. "I highly prized her worth, — no one could more, — And when I heard that worth extoll'd, it bore Down like a mountain on my bosom's core ; Or like an iron it was through my being rusli'd. While from the wound a stream of anguish gush'd, Which foam'd and froth'd and mix'd and roil'd. And upon me great heaps of debris pil'd. "All things to me were naught but blackness then. Which hid me from the quizzing gaze of men. To drown my grief I sought my cups again, But drowning was but brief ; and for a time CANTO IX. 109 That drunkeDness beclouded up my mind, And when I to my rightful senses came, The first thing which I saw was limping Shame, Who lean'd with increased heaviness on me, And grown so large in fits of revelry Which had on me increased in frequency That twice I had to look to see its size, Bulky in form, yet towering to the skies. '' Prodigiously it rose, shapeless and tall. And with its gloomy shadows covered all. Shame and disgrace above, ruin below. Deep in this pit of unremitting woe, Where demon passion howled on either side — Blunted in sense, and stung by selfish pride — Where could I turn ? O God of heaven, tell ! To free me from the torments of this hell ? "From my sad plight my parents turn'd away ; Disgraced and sickened by my mad array, My mother fell a victim to her care, And father followed, driven hj despair. " Sad were the scenes which followed then and there ; The grave had covered all by me held dear. My name was but a leaf, withered and sear. " The drams which had intoxicated me, And which I 'd sought to drown my misery Had kill'd my mother (who beheld me so) 110 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. By lingering; grief repeating blow on blow ; Mj father followed, both from grief for her And the disgrace my actions did incur. ''To drown my woes with wine I sought again, And thereby fasten'd on my nearest friends A deeper one. All now was darkest night ; My parents both were gone, murdered outright By my low drunken sprees and wretched plight, — The world for me had not a ray of light. " From me each earthly pleasure having flown, I now was left to grope my way alone. I father's mansion sought, once my sweet home. But silence death-like reigned. No sound was known, No well-known voice to welcome me was there. Death had blown out the lights. Each vacant chair Reproved me ; and each vacant room too said, ' You are the only cause.' O wretched deed ! The thought went down into my soul with speed, Arousing pangs along the vital way. Which all my utmost powers could not allay ; It me with murder charged and nothing less. I vainly strove to shut this from my breast ; And as I strove and all my powers were tried. Its voice within me still the louder cried, ' Thou parent murderer ! ' while out at large I could not well deny this awful charge ; CANTO IX. Ill Its voice within luu never could be stillVl, But its accusings my whole being fill'd. "And when I sought from these to turn away, They hedg'd me 'round and held me there at bay. As raving wolves, blood-thirsty from their lair, Snap their dread jaws, and their cursed teeth make bare. So this dread voice for slaughter loudly liowl'd, Devoured all peace, and while devouring, growl'd. And while within me its accusings raged. Some sacred spot where wife had been engaged Would touch my memory in so strange a way. My loss anew would on my feelings prey. "That curious touch my soul gates left ajar, Through which I could behold as a fair star The place from which I 'd fallen — O how far ! — From heights of virtue, innocence, and fame. The which I never, never could regain. Slipp'd in one moment ! How? O who can tell? I stumbled into drunkenness, and fell Down from an earthly heaven to a hell. "The spots where joy had crown'd me oft before. Within my heart I wish'd to see no more. The simple footprints of my death-lost prize Wounded with cruel grief my sleepless eyes. "To me all earthly treasures now were lost Save sordid wealth, and that was white with frost. 112 La fold and euridice. The very touch of which woukl chill lue through, And probe the gaping wounds of grief unew. '' From native land I sought myself to free, And try my fortune on the ruthless sea ; From thence a common lot was all our own ; Our ship was boarded, and the whole is known. "You have the secret now which long has weigh'd Down on my heart, and cast a deadly shade. What future fortune doth on us await Is only written in the book of fate, And from all creatures God doth this conceal. Lest we the march of fate itself should steal." He said ; and sat with manly mein and grace ; Then look'd inquiringly in every face To see if any sympathy was there For his grief-stricken heart, — a heart left bear And ravaged by debauchery and care ; Nor look'd he long, ere there began to flow A well of sympathy for human woe From every heart here present at this hour. He saw and felt at once its heavenly power, And when he saw, he knew, though young of years, And knowing, burst into a flood of tears, — Heart-broken tears, which almost set him wild, — He soVd and toejjt as sobs and weeps a child ; And in between these sobs and falling tears Quite brokenly he said, yet quite as clear : — CANTO IX. 113 " O Sjnipatlij, who thought to see joa here ! " Then, overcome iiiid broken down, he said : " O /S//N/jM/f/i//, I thou<;lit that you wei-e dead ; Yet here jou are, within this isle of crime ; You have endured and will endure with time, And when the least expected we will find." He ceased to speak, yet still he sobVl and sigh'd ; In sobs and sighs each one of us replied. And so we all together, child-like, wept. While strange emotions through each bosom crept. At length our sobs were stilTd, and tears were dried, And we again stood up in manhood's pride. Stood up in soul while our poor bodies sat. Silent awhile, and then together chat. Three told their tale of life of other days, Which had been mix'd and blended many ways With condemnation, woe, and joy, and praise. One had been sent, a minister of state, Unto another kingdom, proud and great, To settle what had long been in debate. This people anxiously was waiting then. While, intercepted thus by these vile men. Both lands must suffer for this shameful cause. And kept estranged by breakers of all laws. While here to him all things were black as night, Without the smallest hope or ray of light. 8 114 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. Another said be 'd sought a far-otf clime, To visit friends he 'd long since left behind, And seek a fortune on a foreign shore Which he had found, and which the vessel bore, By pirates sackM, only the day before. And what was life to him, of all stripM bare, Except the thickest blackness of despair ? Life had been spard to him that he might be The naked son of abject misery ; And as our vessel, sunk on ocean's tloor. In depths unknown must be forevermore. So must his life a wreck forever be. Beneath the ocean of immensity, His lot and fate eternally unknown To all of those who would such fate bemoan. Another said these ties now being tied By brothers in affliction, side by side, Would live forever in the throbbing breast, And nothing these from us could ever wrest ; But on the mem'ry pressed would quickly rise And every other feeling there chastise, And stretching out an undisputed reign, Would bind our hearts in friendship's endless chain. And whatsoe'er in life our lot should be, In peace or stormy war, captive or free, 'T would be enough to make us steadfast friends To say, " I shared with you the pirate's den." CANTO X. Open Neveryield, to five others seated upon u mossy stone, tells the story of his life, which is one of love, lie ])roduce8 his and his yirl's letters. Tells a dream he had about her, and other things pertaining. "Friends," then, I said, "how is it now with jou ? Behold that silent youth, how sad to view ! Within his heart there is an unknown grief. Let's hear his tale, 'twill give him short relief." "Let 's hear ! " "Let 's hear ! " around that circle ran. "Let's hear yotir tale, downcast, pale-faced young man — Your tale of life complete and full relate, Unroll, as it has been unroll'd by fate." He forward bending rose upon his feet With air majestic, movement quite complete, Which show'd true culture in its broadest sense — A conscience and a soul void of offense. First from his breast there roU'd a heart-heaved sigh, Then bent a meaning look in every eye. How full of telling language was that look ; It told more truth than could a well-fiU'd book. [115] 116 LA FOLD AND EURlfilCE. It held its fuU-stamp'd pages up to view, And trtuglit us many lessons deep and true, — How by the outward index we could find The deep-laid principles of every mind, And trace those deep-laid principles within. Whether in weakness laid, or strength, or sin. In mildness and in meekness he began : "Forgive me, friends, forgive me, every man, The tale you bid me tell is one of love. Though you may smile, yet by the fates above, I never wish a stronger power to know Than this, a laughing-stock it is although, To every other one except the victim tried. Yet more to him than all the world beside. " The height and depth of love — O who can tell ? Requited, it is heaven, — rejected, hell. Whom'^e'er it will, with silken cords it chains. The strength of which no mortal man can name. Though standing out opposed is every vow, It has chain"'d others, and it chains me now. " You bid me my past history relate, To life unroll as it has been by fate. "My name, as given, is Open Neveryield, That of my country cannot be conceaPd ; CANTO X. 117 For blest Columbia, freedom's glorious prid Will on the wings of fame forever ride. " But to mj story I will now proceed, And mark my varied life, dotted with deeds Resulting in my final overthrow, And bringing me to this sad state of woe. " Behold me now, a boy on that far shore Of youthful days, which can be mine no more ; By grand and rustic scenes his mind is fired, And his whole soul seems wrought as if inspired ; Where mountains tower in majesty aloft. And plains and valleys spread their carpets soft ; Where life, replete with joy and comfort, smile, And birds sing songs without a thought of guile. ' ' Just watch awhile and see that boy appear Where field and forest do each other near. A sudden fall of spotless snow that day Had whitened all, and hung on every spray A pearly wreath, as though in fullest bloom. That boy, o'erjoy'd to leap and shoot, found room. But while amid these highest ecstasies, He look'd about and to his great surprise, He saw near by him, just before his eyes, A man encircled by a wooden wall, Seated upon a chair of stone not small. And writing on a desk of solid stone, — 118 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. Both desk and cliair from the same marble hewn, And not a flake of snow on all was shown. " Upon this desk the man did lean and write, The boy could see him every line indite. So very near, it almost toucITd ids sight ; Long time he stood, fixed and amazed. And wondering, on it most intensely gazed. " What could this be at such a time and place. In this deep wood, and day's broad, open face? And then a tremor crept through every nerve Which firmest resolutions could not swerve ; And yet his youthful lungs no volume lack'd. He shouted loud, and echo answer'd back. Then all was silent, save the patting snow, Which from the branches fell to ground below. "This seem'd to him like Peter's vision old Let down from heaven within a snowy fold. The which to him was sacrilege to touch, And nearer to approach was far too much. But being filFd with awe and conscious dread, lie with a fluttering heart, now homeward fled. Passing a rise of ground which hid the view, He paus'd, and questioned to himself anew, ' Why should I leave unsolved this vision queer? Why ]U)t probe up the cause and all make clear? ' Then turning 'round, he said, 'I will,' And hurriedly repassed a little hill. CANTO X. 119 From whence all things appeared the very same ; Then tremblings seized him which he could not name. Back to his childliood home he quickly came, And there confidingly a brother found, And brought unto this very spot of ground, But what they sought was nowhere to be found. The ])lace by his retui'iiing tra(;ks was known, But that (jueer vision had forever flown. And not a single ti'ace was left behind, Save in tlie chandlers de(!p of that boy's mind ; But there on hidden canvas of the soul Thrown as by nuigic was this vision droll, Which though a secret was to him alone. Did change his course in life to all things known. That secret to himself most sacredly was kept, And unrevealM within him it is yet. "That boy has grown to manhood, and a change In everything is wrought. It was not strange That he believed he could himself control. Could quell each wrong emotion of the soul, Could speak some fitting word and wrath assuage, When others smote their fists and swore for rage. In this he felt a ])ri(le, — perha])s 't was vain, — And on this one thing might have been insane. " The home where he was lov\l, he now must leave, To drink from wisdom's fount. Tliis him did grieve ; And yet there was a voice which said he must ; So in the King of kings placing his trust. 120 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. He in a land of strangers walkM alone, Not caring by the fair ones to be known ; Though these around him smiling, thickly came He heeded not, for he had higher aims. He hated beauty's slave who flatterM for to win. And won that she might wound. That hate in him With iron guards fenced his distrustful mind. Seeking by strong resolves to fill design, When unexpected came a little maid, And in his secret soul her image laid. " How much surprised he was to find it there. While once in search of thought. With greatest care He rais'd it up and brought it to the light, This to eject he tried with all his might ; But all such efforts seem'd to be in vain. And was the cause of restlessness and pain. And when he 'd rais'd it up to cast away, It suddenly fell back to his dismay. " The shock he felt within, as thus it fell, Is not within the power of man to tell. Great waves receded to each vital shore, Bearing most strange emotion evermore, As though a stream through life's great channel went, And through his being trickling streamlets sent ; And when his eyes met hers, that stream would swell And overflow its banks, and rush pell-mell Into the recess of the swelling soul. Drowning each resolution made of old — CANTO X. 121 Those resolutions which most phiinly said, 'We will not yield to uny earthly niaid.' He sought by all things, this to overcome, But in the seeking, ever was outdone. " ' I will bar up the stream thus made,' he said, ' And thereby clioke at once the fountain head ; ' But when 't was done, the stream still higher rode. And fill'd his breast, and soon the bar o'erfiow'd ; And the cataract it caused made wild work, In which he saw his certain ruin lurk, And saw at once (to him no little pain) That mastership of his own self was vain. He would to her lay open all his soul And show the love he could not now control ; And if returned, happy would be their lot. And here the whole should end, if it was not. • "Thus it was done. For at one twilight's close. Just as the moon full-orb'd one night arose, I saw him write the im])ulKe of his heart. While in it poised was Cu])id's quivering dart. Though notwithstanding every effort made Was to oppose and cast the whole in shade. "Adverse to all love's claims, he'd placed his ])ovvcm- Back'd by most firm resolves made every hour ; Yet each exertion was far worse than vain, And served as fuel thrown into the ilame ; 122 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. Consumption of the which, fed a strange fire, And caus'd the flame to mount up still the higher. "Long time he strove, till tired of useless strife, Whose bow sent back its arrows through his life, He gave up all : and by the moonlight wrote Unto this cherished girl this little note. This said, he (from an inside pocket near His beating heart, a place to him most dear) Drew out some letters wrapped in a strange way. As though they had been read day after day. Unfolding one, continuing, he said, ' This is that note. I wrote it ; ' and he read : — ' ' LETTER. "One moment from life's crowded tide I snatch To show the way, the secret door unlatch, Which leads into my soul. Walk in and view. Behold, the mistress of this room is you. "Here hid away in chambers all unseen. In which your name is registered as queen. Behold the likeness of your glowing mien ; And while vi'ithout sweeps life's most turbid care, Yet fixed within is found your image fair, Which thrown on hidden canvas of the mind Shows life and beauty there both well defined. "Since, then, you 're pictured in this inner room. In spite of all the powers I can assume, — CANTO X. 123 For I have tried to banish it my best, And yet it shines and will not be suppress'd, — condescend a living hope to give, That I may breathe anew. So may you live And all the love-wealth of my soul receive. These halls of science both of us must leave, And o'er the parting scene each heart will grieve. While each of us to other lands must go ; And shall we ever meet again, or no ? " O in some simple, full-of-meaning way. In your reply to this say that we may. And may you be noio and ^forever blest, And of life's jfcys as of its gifts possessed, And may your future be a blooming field. And all your heart my own. " O. Neveryield. " 'T was done, I fold'd up the penciPd sheet Which was next day the loved one's eyes to meet, 1 could not say whether with smilG or frown. And now at midnight's hour I laid me down To slumber with the world. In dreams that night Appear'd to me that maiden, loved and bright ; She came and strew'd wild flowers about my feet. And twined within my hair blossoms most sweet. Then ran away, while in her arms she held Still others which in clusters strangely fell. Formed into fragrant words correctly spell'd, 12'i LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. Which read, ' Loug-cherish'd man.' Then she withdrew, With looks of love still pressing on mj view. That dream did all my boasted powers subdue. "Next morning with the sun I rose, a slave To feeling which this dream a being gave, Tender emotions which I could not name Rendered each former resolution vain. And conquered that self-ruling power within, Which I had thought impregnable. What sin ! That day whene'er I look'd on that fair maid, New worth and beauty rose to claim their aid. " I felt love's ocean rolling in my breast, At whose great depth I trembled, I confess ; For well I knew if adverse winds should blow, Its waves would bury me in deepest woe. "With trembling hand and bosom full of hope, I gave to her the moonlight-written note. "Receiving it, she blush'd and turn'd away And hasten'd to her room. But O, that day! The spot, the street, the sunshine, and the shade. The clouds, the sky — all tilings of every grade Pertaining to that great, eventful hour, Live in me still in fullness, strength, and power; And sup at the same board wlfieh feeds my thoughts. And by them strange emotions I am taught. CANTO X. 125 " Now anxious hours rolFd on. At length she gave To me the answer which I so much craved. "As hurriedly as she, I sought my room, To read the note which held my future doom. The seal I tore with trembling heart and hand, And thus this little missive strangely ran : — " NOTE. "Dear Sir: "The note you gave me was a great surprise ; I read, and scarcely could believe my eyes. That love so deep you say by you possessVl Could be a real thing and uncoufess'd. "You truly say we leave these scenes well known, Where we together often have been thrown, As we in classes met. Those times have flown ; I go far hence, and the sad partings mourn. And no voice tells me I shall e'er return. You, too, will go unto your much-lov'd home. With cheerful heart I trust to friends well known ; That God may favor you with choicest bliss He gives the good, is my most earnest wish. Whatever may our future walk attend. Chief of my joys will be to call you friend. "S. E. S. " 'And was that all? ' I said, pale with dismay. As hurriedly I cast that sheet away. 126 LA POLD AND EUKIDICE. Then thought, ' How smoothly reads each pencird line, How beautifal indeed, and yet how blind.' '' I wrote again, and said, ' O tell me why We must in life forever say, Good-by 'i ' But jpartmg came, and never a reply. "• Old time roll'd on, and yet I lived. But then. That life would have been death to many men ; That loved one had to distant regions gone. And I, though crowd-surrounded, was alone. Anxieties arose like hungry beasts. And unappeased fed on my wasting flesh. To send these to their lairs and quieted, I wrote again, and thus this letter read : — ' ' LETTER. "Dear one, forgive if I again should speak ; I would not be presumptuous, but would seek To cast this pond'rous burden from my breast. Now crushing peace, and murdering all my rest, I mean that burden huge of anxious care, Roird to and fro twixt hope and fell despair ; For who can live when such emotions war. Driving from side to side the weighty car Of deep anxiety, which, as it rolls, Grinds 'neath its tread the heartstrings of the soul ? "Sarah, I 've look'd into your beauteous eyes, Seen welling up within, rich thoughts arise CANTO X. 127 And noble feeling, treasures of the mind And heart ; and felt in one so wise and kind I faithfully could trust. For tJds I knew. My love for you was^'wre and deep and true^ That you I thought the same, I need not say ; It is enough that you have borne away The center of my life. And me once free By your sweet, virtuous charms bade bow to thee. " The secret spell which works from heart to heart, I thought would twine our own ; and joys impart To each. But now what rests ? Must it be mine To love alone and worship at your shrine, While you cannot a warmer title breathe Than friend ? Can you a heart so full thus leave To sigh unheard amid a world of care. And unreturn'd save by the empty air ? " Surely that noble soul within your breast Would not permit. Then say I may be bless'd With your full heart. In me your trust confide As I have mine in you, and let the tide Of deep affection flow from soul to soul. Wakening, in each pure joys beyond control. " I 've looked into the happy school-boy's face, And he has smiled. Have clasp'd in my embrace The tiny child ; that, too, though small and meek. Has press'd its infant lips upon my cheek, And with a joy which blesses humankind. 128 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. Poured out an overflowing heart in mine ; I've joj'd to tind such pleasure and such mirth, And mix with youthful innocence on earth. "But what from her I Ve held mof