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IGDRASIL. 
 
IGDRASIL; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE TREE OF EXISTENCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES CHALLEN, 
 $ » 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH, AXD OTHER POEMS. 
 
 
 
 " 
 
 / 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON. 
 
 1859. 
 
TS 
 
 all 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
 JAMES CHALLEN, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern 
 District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 C. SHERMAN & SON, PRINTERS. 
 
I like, too, that representation they have of the tree Igdrasil. 
 All life is figured by them as a tree. Igdrasil — the Ash Tree of 
 Existence — has its roots down in the kingdoms of Hela, or death : 
 its trunk reaches up heaven-high, spreads its boughs over the 
 whole universe : it is the tree of Existence. At the foot of it 
 in the death-kingdom sit three Normas, — Fates, — the Past, 
 Present, Future, watering its roots from the sacred well. Its 
 boughs, with their buddings and disleafings, — events, things 
 suffered, things done, catastrophes, — stretch through all lands 
 and times. Is not every leaf of it a biography, every fibre 
 there an act, a word? Its boughs are histories of nations. 
 The rustle of it is the noise of human existence, — onwards from 
 of old. It grows there, the breath of human passion rustling 
 through it, or storm-tost, the storm-wind howling through it 
 like the voice of all the gods. It is Igdrasil, the tree of Ex- 
 istence. It is the past, the present, and the future. What was 
 done ; what is doing ; what will be done. The Infinite conju- 
 gation of the verb " To do." 
 
 Carltle. 
 
PKELUDE. 
 
 i. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 I have dwelt alone, 
 
 Yoiceless, breathless, still; 
 Not a sigh or groan 
 
 The hungry air could fill. 
 Not a sound, a word, 
 
 Falls upon my breast; 
 And Echo has not stirred 
 
 The quiet of my rest; — 
 
 ii. 
 
 Night. 
 
 Not alone, 
 For I ever with thee dwelt; 
 
 Round thee I have thrown 
 My dark, mysterious belt : 
 
 Not a sound or sight, 
 Not a gleam of fire, 
 
10 PRELU DE. 
 
 Not a ray of light, 
 
 My languid thoughts inspire. 
 O darkness, flee away, 
 
 I perish with the cold. 
 Send me the light of day: 
 
 I am growing old. 
 
 in. 
 
 Space. 
 
 Within my ample bound, 
 Ye two alone are found. 
 
 We three; — 
 The offspring of Infinity. 
 "With shuddering fear 
 I listening hear, 
 From out the deep profound, 
 The all-creating sound, 
 Which from the silence breaks; 
 And the loud " Let there be/' my spirit 
 
 shakes. 
 And from the hungry night, 
 Lo ! now is born the Light ; 
 And in my arms I fold, 
 And will forever hold, 
 All things, which from the Infinite hath 
 
 rolled. 
 
PRELUDE. 11 
 
 LIGHT. 
 
 Forth from the light a spirit came, 
 Eobed with a scarf of dazzling hue; 
 
 He seemed, at first, a radiant flame, 
 Breaking from out the distant blue. 
 
 Farther than sense or thought can fly, 
 In depths untrodden, was he seen, 
 
 Beyond the trooping stars on high, 
 
 Or where they send their arrows keen. 
 
 The virgin light around him flung 
 All colors, which are seen at even ; 
 
 Or which the morn has ever hung 
 Upon the opening gates of heaven. 
 
 Graceful as matin rays of light 
 
 That float upon the ocean's wave, — 
 
 He burst upon the enraptured sight, 
 "Within the luminous floods to lave. 
 
 Silence was startled with his wings, 
 
 That fanned the sleeping breath of song; 
 
 And o'er the realms of Night he flings 
 His golden arrows, swift and strong. 
 
12 PRELUDE. 
 
 And Space now filled his ample bound 
 With suns and systems, worlds of fire, 
 
 Which since have run their restless round, 
 And never shall in death expire. 
 
 And as he flew from star to star, 
 
 And lit their lamps with golden light, 
 
 He sought our gem-like orb afar, 
 
 And found it in his onward flight; — 
 
 So distant from the realms of morn, 
 Which gave erewhile his glorious birth, 
 
 No ray of light, as yet, was born 
 Upon our lone and slumberous earth. 
 
 He spread his radiant scarf upon 
 Her form, so beautiful and bright; 
 
 And as her face with glory shone, 
 He left her, half in shade and light ! 
 
 'Twas not by chance, but by design, — 
 Prophetic of our future race, — 
 
 The meaning of that ominous line, 
 Which time nor distance can efface. 
 
 Sleep and unrest, the shade and light, 
 Contending still! nor shall the day 
 
PRELUDE. 13 
 
 Conquer the ancient realms of night 
 Till brighter suns their powers display. 
 
 When quick, as from the orient leaps, 
 The quivering beams of rising morn 
 
 From hill to hill; — till onward sweeps 
 The sun's broad light, on pinions borne; 
 
 So came there myriad spirits blest, 
 
 Filling the mighty void afar, 
 Each bearing on his blazoned breast 
 
 A glowing, bright, and burnished star. 
 
 All orbs that deck the milky way, 
 
 Or blaze around the Arctic seas; 
 Or those that chaunt their solemn lay 
 
 Near to the Southern Cross, — to these 
 
 Were as the drops of morning dew 
 That sparkle o'er a heath-grown field, 
 
 To the broad ocean's ample view, 
 Should he his watery treasures yield. 
 
 And as the earth, in form so fair, 
 
 Hose from her ancient womb of night; 
 
 She robed herself in garments rare ; — 
 A queen among the Peers of light. 
 
14 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 And deep within her heart there lay 
 A precious seed, — divine its birth; 
 
 Ready its glories to display 
 
 Upon the waiting, anxious earth. 
 
 And, as it broke beneath the mold, 
 At once it grew in air and grace ; 
 
 The richest treasure earth can hold, 
 Divine in presence, form, and face. 
 
 And as it waved its branches high, 
 And all its blooming beauties spread, 
 
 A warder from the distant sky 
 Its future history sung or said. 
 
IGDEASIL. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THE ANGEL S SONG. 
 
 A wonderful tree is the tree Igdrasil ! 
 Through all ages it grew, and it grows ever 
 
 still ; 
 In the kingdoms of Hela far down are its 
 
 roots, 
 And as wide as creation it sends forth its 
 
 shoots — 
 
 This tree Igdrasil ! 
 
 2 15 
 
16 IGDEASIL. 
 
 At its foot sit the Normas, the house where 
 
 they dwell, 
 To water its roots from their deep sacred 
 
 well; 
 The past and the present, the future, are there, 
 In union their labors incessant to share, 
 
 On this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 It has seen kingdoms rise, it has seen them 
 
 decay, 
 It has lived through the past, it will live on 
 
 through aye ; 
 'Neath its shade have all nations, all peoples, 
 
 been found, 
 And its leaves and its fruitage are scattered 
 
 around, 
 
 Of this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 Its boughs stretch now earthward, now heaven- 
 ward, far 
 As the line of existence, the light of a star; 
 
IGDRASIL. 17 
 
 Through all seasons, all ages, all changes of 
 
 time, 
 It grows, buds, and blossoms, in every clime, 
 
 This tree Igdrasil. 
 
 The buds still are swelling ; its blossoms appear 
 Every moment and hour, every day in the year ; 
 And a dower of wealth, on the earth, on the 
 
 main, 
 It as constantly sheds, thick as dew or the rain, 
 
 From this tree Igdrasil. 
 « 
 The wind from all quarters is shaking its 
 
 leaves ; 
 And, sweeping its branches, it solemnly weaves 
 Misereres, cantatas, old chorals and songs, 
 And its grand Oratorio all nature prolongs, 
 
 Of this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 Even now, mid the leaves of this far-spreading 
 
 tree 
 May be heard the loud sobs of its sad litany, 
 
18 I G D R A S I L. 
 
 Which the children of sorrow pour forth on 
 
 the gale, 
 As the murmuring wind bears along the wild 
 
 wail 
 
 Through this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 In the fresh bloom of morning, at noon, and 
 
 at night, 
 Mid the shadows of even, the glare of the 
 
 light, 
 Now slow onward moving, now swift as the fire 
 From the dark thunder-cloud, is the sweep of 
 
 its lyre 
 
 Through this old Igdrasil. 
 
 Mid earthquake and tempest, through flood 
 
 and through fire, 
 Its branches are climbing yet higher and higher ; 
 And its shadow still deeper and deeper is 
 
 grown : 
 Of this world the sole tenant, it stands all alone, 
 
 This brave Igdrasil. 
 
IGD1USIL. 19 
 
 The cedars of Lebanon fall one by one ; 
 The oaks of old Bashan lie dead as a stone ; 
 The pride of the forest, the king of each 
 
 hill, 
 Fall to dust when the mission of life they 
 
 fulfil; 
 
 But not so Igdrasil. 
 
 Green and golden, the light through its verdure 
 
 now streams, 
 And like arrows are flying the swift-glancing 
 
 beams 
 On the hi]l-tops and meadows, on rivers and 
 
 lakes, 
 And the bird of the wild woods the rapture 
 
 partakes 
 
 Of this old Igdrasil. 
 
 Gentle May, mid the blossoms that fall from its 
 
 crown, 
 Fills her bosom with flowers, and aweary sits 
 
 down 
 
 2* 
 
20 IGDRASIL. 
 
 To entwine them in wreaths^ of all colors and 
 
 lines, 
 In the freshness of morning, — its snnlight and 
 
 dews, 
 
 From this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 And Summer, with lap and with bosom replete, 
 And wading through oceans of bloom 'neath 
 
 her feet, 
 Exhausted and faint, has now fallen asleep; 
 While the birds in the branches a festival keep 
 
 In the old Igdrasil. 
 
 And Antnmn then comes, in the wane of the 
 
 year, 
 When the frnits are all ripe and the leaves 
 
 crisp and sear; 
 And to gather the harvest, a strong thrifty 
 
 swain 
 To work he now summons his bold, rustic 
 
 train 
 
 Round the old Igdrasil. 
 
IGDRASIL. 21 
 
 The baskets are bursting, and in heaps all 
 
 around, 
 Thick as hail, the rich fruitage is seen on the 
 
 ground ; 
 And the large, ponderous wain with its burden 
 
 now groans 
 And its wheels harshly creak as they grind o'er 
 
 the stones 
 
 'Neath the old Igdrasil. 
 
 Stern Winter gives warning that now he is near, 
 And he sends a sharp whistle, coldly keen, and 
 
 most clear; 
 And he claims all the flowers of Summer and 
 
 Spring, 
 And the fruits of the Autumn, — the covetous 
 
 thing ! 
 
 Of this rich Igdrasil. 
 
 On its head all the day is the sun shining bright, 
 And a crown of rich gems shed their radiance 
 at night; 
 
22 IGDRASIL. 
 
 But the brightest of things shows a shadow as 
 
 dense, 
 Like the sun when its disc is concealed from 
 
 the sense : 
 
 So this tree Igdrasil. 
 
 Sin and shame, guilt and sorrow, have furnished 
 
 the braid 
 Which has woven the deepest, the deadliest 
 
 shade, 
 Underlying the arms and the leaves of this tree ; 
 In the churchyard and lone grave their work 
 
 you may see, 
 
 'Neath the old Igdrasil. 
 
 Smiling infancy there, with old age now abreast, 
 And manhood and youth, all are taking their rest; 
 One by one, chosen quick, or by strong currents 
 
 swept, 
 Here they lie side by side, — both the hated, the 
 
 wept, 
 
 'Neath the old Igdrasil. 
 
IGDRASIL. 23 
 
 tree, noble tree, with thy roots deep and 
 
 strong, 
 Sending forth thy rich sap to each outermost 
 
 prong, 
 AVith thy trunk knit and twisted, more solid 
 
 than steel, 
 Yet with fibres which keenly, most vividly, 
 
 feel! 
 
 Grow on, generous tree ! 
 
 Still add to thy girth new accretions and bands, 
 Spread out till thy bounds shall encompass all 
 
 lands ; 
 Shed thy rinds scathed and blighted, and hoary 
 
 and sear, 
 To enrich and to fatten thy soil every year, 
 
 huge mountain tree ! 
 
 Reach forth thy brave arms, brawny, massive, 
 
 and sound, 
 Till their shadows shall cover earth's uttermost 
 
 bound, 
 
24 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And their fruitage and leafage shall ripen and 
 
 wave 
 In all lands and all zones, both to comfort and 
 
 save, 
 
 giant-like tree ! 
 
 From thy branches a shoot has sprung up to 
 
 the skies, 
 And its fruit is more rich than has ere blessed 
 
 our eyes ; 
 It has caught all the dews and the sunshine 
 
 of heaven, 
 And a dower on thy head now most richly is 
 
 given, 
 
 O loved, honored tree ! 
 
 It is sending thy juices in health back again, 
 Distilling its sweets, like the God-gifted rain, 
 On the heath-flowers, and pansies, and roses that 
 
 bloom 
 In the hot parched deserts and mouldering tomb, 
 
 O heaven-blessed tree ! 
 
IGDRASIL. 25 
 
 It is bending its branches and crowning* thy 
 
 bead, 
 With a scarf bright and beautiful over thee 
 
 spread ; 
 Its leaves never wither, its flowers ne'er decay, 
 And its fruit, hence immortal, shall ne'er fall 
 
 away, 
 
 O grand, kingly tree ! 
 
 Soft and silken its tendrils ; in velvety down, 
 Trailed and plaited, they hang from thy rich 
 
 amber crown, 
 Of all colors that hide mid the flower-covered 
 
 leas, 
 Or the breeze-scented mountains, the mirroring 
 
 seas, 
 
 rich, braided tree ! 
 
 In its o'erbending boughs, gently waving on 
 
 high, 
 Precious fruits are seen ripening beneath the 
 warm sky; 
 
2(5 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And ethereal dews all the night freshly shed 
 Their odorous sweets on its garlanded head, 
 
 light-loving tree ! 
 
 Soft murmurs, faint breathings, ^Eolian and 
 sweet, 
 
 Silver-toned and euphonious, in their rhythm- 
 ical beat 
 
 Now chime with the voices of angels, which 
 swell 
 
 The rich music that breaks over mountain and 
 dell, 
 
 O song-loving tree ! 
 
 Dissolving like dew on the low creeping grass, 
 When the sighs of the heart-broken upwards 
 
 do pass; 
 Or like thunder that breaks o'er the dark, 
 
 troubled wave 
 When the hopes of the free are struck down to 
 
 the grave, 
 
 O merciful tree ! 
 
I G D It A S I L. 27 
 
 When the tears of the penitent fall on the 
 
 earth, 
 Their soft cadence awakens thy rapturous 
 
 mirth ; 
 And when infancy sends forth its last pulsing 
 
 wail, 
 Invisible strings melt in gladness the tale, 
 
 deep-troubled tree ! 
 
 When grief sits alone, clasping firmly each 
 
 palm, 
 It is thine to allay all its sorrows with balm ; 
 And when sadness sits brooding o'er anguish 
 
 and care, 
 Thou canst change by a touch all its sighs into 
 
 prayer, 
 
 O pitying tree ! 
 
 Or when sleep flies the eyelids or dreams mock 
 
 the rest, 
 Morphean founts are awakened and pour from 
 
 thy breast; 
 
28 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And when, fainting and weary, they sink in 
 
 despair, 
 Fragrant scents, as of violets, breathe through 
 
 the air, 
 
 O grief-drowning tree ! 
 
 And when hosts gather round us to smite down 
 
 the free, 
 "The sound of a going" is heard on this tree; 
 'Tis the star-trooping angels that sweep through 
 
 the sky, 
 To rouse us to battle and aid us on high, 
 
 truth-loving tree ! 
 
 rich fragrant tree ! flowering tree ! 
 
 In the shades of thy bowers I sit musingly ; 
 
 And I hear dulcet chimes, like the low, tinkling 
 sound, 
 
 Born of silence, that breathes from the moss- 
 covered ground, 
 
 O myriad- voiced tree ! 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 I. 
 
 In times of old, mid shadows dim, 
 
 Pale forms were seen, both blithe and grim ; 
 
 Here Proserpine affrighted stood, 
 
 Or gliding through the sheltering wood; 
 
 And sylvan nymphs, and even old Pan, 
 
 Scattered flowers as they ran. 
 
 And, as in cathedrals gray, 
 
 Where the nuns their vigils pay, 
 
 Or the beadsman, wan and pale, 
 
 Masked in frozen hood and mail, 
 
 Turns aloft his sunken eye 
 
 As he tells his rosary; 
 
 Thus they sought and found their home 
 
 Underneath some leafy dome, 
 
 Where many an ancient altar stood 
 
 Steaming with its recent blood. 
 
 2 'J 
 
30 IGDEASIL. 
 
 Nor deemed they that each fawn and fay, 
 Like ghosts alarmed, would flit away 
 When the sun rose at dawn of day. 
 But within each grove and dell 
 A light upon their darkness fell ; 
 Glancing through each giant tree 
 Silently and suddenly. 
 Then these vagrants trembling fled, 
 Filled with more than mortal dread; 
 Or, dissolved in mist and air, 
 Muttering words of deep despair, 
 On they went to regions dire, 
 As wolves retreating from the fire 
 When every herb and bush and spire 
 Leaves the blasted prairie bare. 
 
 Old Thor knit his angry brow, 
 
 Made in haste a desperate vow, 
 
 That, with hammer in his hand, 
 
 Over the sea and over the land, 
 
 He would send one spark, — a scathing brand, 
 
IGDRASIL. 31 
 
 The last of all his missiles spent ; 
 And where it fell, or whither it went, 
 He little cared, if he might know 
 It dealt a deep and deadly blow ; 
 For well he knew his power would end 
 With the last bolt his arm would send. 
 
 Here Odin, with his giant seers, 
 And his shivering ice-bound peers, 
 With eyes afrozen, dull, and dim, 
 Which could not in their sockets swim, 
 Now wept a few big drops, that fell 
 Within the ocean's angry swell, 
 And, ever since, each icy spur 
 That northward checks the mariner — 
 Those mountain masses that float along 
 In fathomless fiords, heavy and strong — 
 Remind him of those days of yore 
 When he the frozen sceptre bore 
 Along old Norway's horrid shore. 
 
 3* 
 
32 I G D R A S I L. 
 
 The God- wish Aiger, in despair, 
 Aloud exclaimed, "Now have a care!" 
 And in a sullen storm, that woke 
 His slumbers by a sudden stroke, 
 Cried, "Save the ship! cut every spar! 
 There's neither light of sun or star; 
 We are floating to a world afar!" 
 And, seizing on the helm, which broke 
 "With too heavy a hand and stroke, 
 He perished in the stormy wave, 
 And found a deep and darksome grave, 
 And none to pity, none to save ! 
 
 Thus, the whole fabled race, 
 
 In confusion and fear, 
 Will abashed hide their face, 
 
 And at length disappear, 
 At the sound of that word 
 By the nations once heard. 
 And now, shunning the light, 
 To the regions of night 
 
IGDRASIL. 33 
 
 As outcasts they fly 
 To seek shelter and die ; 
 Or, with demons of old, 
 Scorched with fires, or left shivering with 
 snow drifts acold. 
 
 n. 
 
 At the birth of old Time, 
 When fresh in her prime, 
 Like the heavens sublime, 
 
 The earth was all beauty, without sin or pain, 
 
 And the slime of the serpent had left not one 
 stain ; 
 
 It is said that the angels held converse with those 
 Who sought their repose 
 'Neath the shade of that tree ; — 
 The new Igdrasil, which forever shall be, 
 
 To hear the sweet notes of their rich melody. 
 
 Softly they breathed to the listening ear 
 Strains which 'twere madness now to hear. 
 
34 IGDKASIL. 
 
 Such notes should their lips to our senses give 
 
 birth, 
 The heavens would descend to the dwellers on 
 
 earth, 
 And the soul would be drowned by their awful 
 
 mirth ! 
 In pity to mortals, their voices are mute, 
 And silent each harp-string and heavenly lute. 
 The chorals that break from a thousand spheres 
 Die ere they reach our leaden ears, 
 Or seem like the bells of the flowers that chime 
 To the monads that nestle in beds of thvme ! 
 
 V 
 
 But how blest was that pair, 
 
 Such communion to share ! 
 
 How honored their lot 
 
 And sacred each spot! 
 How hallowed each visit, and tender their love, 
 When the bright shining ones from the regions 
 above 
 
 Partook of their pleasure, 
 
 Unalloyed, without measure. 
 
IGDRASIL. 35 
 
 "With no thought of to-morrow, 
 
 ~Ko care, and no sorrow! 
 
 More bright than a dream 
 
 In life's freshest stream, 
 When the soul with the richest of fancies may 
 teem. 
 
 'Twas a birth 
 
 On the earth 
 Such as angels might covet, but never could feel, 
 "Which the bowers of Eden to them did reveal. 
 
 Xot a thing to bewail 
 
 As a love-lorn tale, — 
 The hero a knave, or a worthless snail, 
 "Whom the world would not miss, if he had died, 
 More than a leaf on the swollen tide, — 
 
 A phosphor light, 
 Born of putrescence, — a thing to affright ; 
 
 But a love that came 
 
 Like a vestal flame, 
 
 B.osy and warm 
 
 And without alarm; 
 
36 IGDRASIL. 
 
 More subtle and bright than our goldenest dreams. 
 And purer than all the fabled streams 
 That run through Elysian fields on high, 
 To bathe in which it were heaven to die ! 
 But a love to us poor mortals given 
 
 From the innermost heaven ; 
 
 Pure as the ray 
 
 Which from yonder sun 
 
 On the waters play 
 Or the mountains dun. 
 Warm as the heat of a summer's noon, 
 Chaste as the light of a full-orbed moon; 
 
 'Twas a word of bliss 
 Of more than mortal blessedness. 
 
 All that was bright 
 
 In heaven's own light; — 
 
 All that is fair 
 
 With it we compare, 
 And we call it a thing more rich and rare. 
 
 All that is sweet, 
 
 And all that is meet 
 To measure our heart's wish and make it complete. 
 
IGDRASIL. 37 
 
 But how changed was the scene, when, with guilt 
 
 and with shame, 
 To the tree of existence, surrounded with flame, 
 Forbidden to come or to taste of its fruit, 
 While the angels, astonished, stood silent and 
 
 mute ! 
 
 All the air was then burdened with sobs and 
 
 with sighs, 
 And tears fell as rain from those pitying 
 
 eyes, 
 Unused until then to that amber-rich dew 
 Which the heart crushed with sorrow now 
 
 brings into view. 
 
 Sudden wails swept the branches, as winds sweep 
 
 the sail 
 Borne along by the might of a desperate gale; 
 And, as far as the ear could detect, now there 
 
 grew 
 Distant sounds faint, yet fainter, and -whispering, 
 
 "Adieu." 
 
38 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Through the ocean in which our lone earth moves 
 
 along, 
 Myriad voices aloft bore this word, loud and 
 
 strong ; 
 And, till reaching the portals of sunshine and 
 
 day, 
 The sound still was heard on their sad lips to 
 
 stay. 
 
 To the listening vaults and the sky-arching 
 
 dome, 
 Where the bright-winged beings were hastening 
 
 home, 
 Their answering echoes were sent fresh as dew 
 To that burdened refrain, murmuring only, 
 
 "Adieu." 
 
 And the word floats aloft, as if winged with fire, 
 To the innermost Temple, the altar and choir; 
 And the sound shapes the voices, now faintly 
 
 and dim, 
 Of the bright-vested cherubs, the rapt seraphim. 
 
IGDRASIL. 39 
 
 Ever since, mid the tree of existence, is heard 
 Through its sunlight and shadows, this sorrowful 
 
 word; 
 And when nipt by the frost, red and sallow and 
 
 sear, 
 Its leaves fall to dust, 'tis the last sound they 
 
 hear. 
 
 HI. 
 
 man, pause and pray ! 
 
 Be admonished to-day, 
 
 When pleasure is nigh, 
 When the earth is all freshness, — all splendor 
 the sky. 
 
 Now a smile, then a tear, 
 
 A foe may appear, 
 Which may turn all thy joyance to anguish and 
 fear. 
 
 Then the rain-drops are shed 
 
 O'er the path that you tread, 
 And nothing to shelter the pitiless head. 
 
 4 
 
40 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Darkness and doubt 
 
 Within and without; 
 
 Anguish and sorrow, 
 
 To-day and to-morrow; 
 
 Guilt for the past 
 
 "Which forever may last. 
 This is death, worse than death, to the sin- 
 stricken soul ; 
 It has driven ten thousand unwashed to their 
 
 goal. 
 But hope sheds its fragrance upon the crushed 
 
 heart, 
 And the joy of the Lord bids each sorrow depart. 
 Then, one smile from his face, howe'er dark be 
 
 the night, 
 Will dispel all its shadows and turn them to 
 
 light. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Is it the breath of a human sigh, 
 A floating leaf as it passeth by ? 
 
IGDRASIL. 41 
 
 A tear that is falling upon a stone 
 From a heart that is breaking all alone? 
 
 Is it a pang that none may share ? 
 The wail of a spirit in deep despair, 
 Seeking relief, and it knows not where? 
 
 Look upwards and see, 
 
 Ere the visions flee. 
 O'er the dull beaten path in which we now tread, 
 Where the fruits that we gather with ashes are 
 
 spread, 
 Hope wings her bright pinions and bends her 
 
 meek head. 
 
 V. 
 
 Toil we here, both night and day, 
 
 To win a name 
 
 That will not stay, 
 In chase of that phantom that men call fame. 
 
 Hungry as night, 
 
 Watchful as light; 
 
42 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Through marsh and through glen, 
 
 We eager pursue 
 What, in gaming, we rue. 
 
 Though the soul be lost, 
 Or by passion tost; 
 And we barter all 
 At its clarion call ; 
 Still onward we move, 
 As if madly to prove 
 That life is the gleam of the meteor's light, 
 And fame, but the sound as it fades from the 
 sight. 
 
 The hopes of our youth, 
 What are they, in truth, 
 But memories now? 
 The flowers are all faded, 
 The garlands are braided, 
 
 And withered they lie, 
 Pale as ashes, and dry. 
 The future, which sheds such a light on our 
 
 path, 
 Is the mirage that mocks us in anger and wrath. 
 
IGDRASIL. 43 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Pleasure and mirth 
 
 Have an unquiet birth ; 
 And frail 
 Is their life as a passing gale. 
 
 They come to us here 
 
 From a higher sphere. 
 They come, like birds from a sunny clime, 
 Where their voices blend as the bells in a 
 chime 
 
 At a marriage feast, 
 
 Where the waiting priest 
 Is ready to make two hearts sublime. 
 
 But they will not stay : 
 
 In a moment away, 
 Chilled by the blasts of a wintry day. 
 
 Let us suffer and do, 
 
 As we onward pursue 
 
 What is best for us here. 
 
 4.3s 
 
44. IGDRASIL. 
 
 "Tis my faith, and trust, 
 That, whatever befall, 
 It were better that dust 
 On our bright hopes might fall, 
 Than fail to be ready at duty's stern call. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Through the shadows and gloom which enshroud 
 
 us above, 
 One eye still looks on us, of pity and love ; 
 And I know that, whatever disturbs now my 
 
 breast, 
 There's a home for the weary, — a haven of rest. 
 
 With a conscience unstained, and a heart firm 
 
 and pure, 
 We may laugh at our ills, and all trials endure, 
 Borne above all the changes of birth and of 
 
 blood, 
 The waves and the surges of passion's dark 
 
 flood. 
 
IGDHASIL. 4 
 
 K 
 
 To existence — the future, the present, the past — 
 I am bound by a chain that forever will last, 
 That no power can destroy, no rust can con- 
 
 * sume : 
 'Tis the gift which survives all the wrecks of 
 the tomb. 
 
 Its links are all golden, and forged by a hand, 
 Which in nicest adjustment and beauty are 
 
 planned ; 
 And though melted, and beaten, and welded in 
 
 fire, 
 'Tis to bring out their brightness and raise it 
 
 still higher. 
 
 Life is greater than food: he who gave us this 
 
 boon 
 Will not leave us to perish before it is noon; 
 The greater includes all the lesser: — then 
 
 know 
 He who gave us this pearl, smaller gems will 
 
 bestow. 
 
46 I G D R A S I L. 
 
 The past we have conquered, and we smile at 
 
 its toils, 
 Reassured by its conflicts, enriched by its spoils ; 
 The future though darkly its shadows display, 
 Yet "sufficient the evil" that comes with each 
 
 day. 
 
 Yin. 
 
 It is our life that changes ; sense 
 Deceives not: still we draw from thence 
 Our wayward fancies and our fond conceits, 
 And hide us in their intricate retreats. 
 Blindly we look, or shut the opened ear, 
 And yield our hearts to folly and to fear. 
 
 The world surrounds us like a wall of fire, 
 Or fetters with its chains ice-cold and dire : 
 Through its wide ramparts none of us can 
 
 pierce, 
 Though with fixed eyes we gaze, like eagles 
 
 fierce. 
 
IGDRASIL. 47 
 
 Beyond, our senses never caught a ray 
 Save that which mingles with the common day. 
 Yet is it real ; and no power can bind 
 Its influence o'er the ever restless mind. 
 
 The seasons come and go ; the sun shines on : 
 Whether we smile or weep, his race is won. 
 The grass still springs, the freshened turf still 
 
 blows 
 With wakened flowers ; earth has its many 
 
 throes. 
 The oak still lifts its ancient form on high, 
 And stars display their glorious heraldry. 
 
 Here stands our home, within the forest dell, 
 In shade and sunshine ; — there the plashing well. 
 Crimson and clear, the beams upon it rest, 
 Or clouds and tempests shake its quiet breast; 
 And tinkling streams keep music to the hour, 
 When evening comes, to show its gentle power. 
 Or when the wintry sky, in shroud or snow; 
 Or on the purple peaks the sunsets glow; 
 
48 IGDRASIL.. 
 
 Or battling tempests swell the turbid floods, 
 Or the rough north winds shake its naked woods, 
 Nature, unchanging, mocks our idle moods. 
 
 Familiar scenes, — these change not, but abide ; 
 
 Our bark but varies with the onward tide. 
 
 The very tombs, where dust and ashes lie, 
 
 Seem like the fixtures of eternity. 
 
 Here in the rocks the hordes of Egypt sleep, 
 
 And, like the mountains hoar, their relics keep ; 
 
 As if a part of those eternal walls, 
 
 And built to keep them ever in their halls. 
 
 Where shall we anchor hopes that will not fail, 
 Or whither hasten with our storm-rent sail? 
 Is there no life beyond, no future rest, 
 ~No peace for weary feet or throbbing breast? 
 Imprisoned here, we sigh to wing our way 
 To realms beyond the light of common day. 
 
 With joys above the shadows of a dream, 
 The wildering senses with fond fancies teem. 
 
IGDRASIL. 49 
 
 AdcI earthly loves have power the soul to shake 
 
 With tones of ravishment, that make 
 
 Us feel how feeble and how vain 
 
 Are earth's endeavors to allay our pain, 
 
 To help our discontent, to chain our grief, 
 
 To send the burdened spirit sweet relief. 
 
 Oh, there are moments when with guilt and 
 
 wrong, 
 Dark dreams and passions dire, our spirits 
 
 throng ; 
 "WTien, sad and weary, the o'erburdened breast 
 Bows like the willow when by floods oppressed ; 
 Haunted by memories, whence unbidden start 
 Thoughts, elf-like, from the chambers of the 
 
 heart : 
 JSTo magic power their presence can surprise, 
 Xo spells can charm, nor words can exorcise. 
 
PART THIRD. 
 
 I. 
 
 ISTot all of truth do we yet believe, 
 
 IsTor all that is final the wisest receive ; 
 
 Its massive shadows now hide from our sight 
 
 Much that is found in the realms of light. 
 
 Glints of sunshine fall on our way; 
 Wandering beams on our footsteps play, 
 Like those which fall on an April day ; 
 But the summer will come, and a brighter sky 
 Will dawn on our pathway and shine on high. 
 
 O heart by the tempests strangely driven, 
 On the headlands of doubt so rudely riven ; 
 Yet know that the treasures, in depths that lie 
 In the caverns below, will be swept on high 
 And soon will appear to thy anxious eye. 
 
 5 51 
 
52 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Ko types, liowe'er perfect, have ever expressed 
 All the light and resplendence which gleam 
 
 from the hreast 
 Of the vestment which Truth in her jewelled 
 
 shrine 
 Has placed on the heart by a hand divine. 
 
 ]STo dogmas of prelates or priests can bind 
 
 The thoughts which leap forth from the un- 
 fettered mind; 
 
 For the truth will be seen, as a beacon on 
 high, 
 
 Through the rack of the storm-cloud which 
 
 'to 
 
 darkens the sky. 
 
 Steady shining, though hidden at times by the 
 
 shade, 
 It seems like an angel our fancy has made ; 
 Rounding out in its beauty, at length 'twill 
 
 appear, 
 When from mists and from tempests the sky 
 
 shall be clear, 
 
IGDRASIL. 53 
 
 And in brightness shall walk o'er the pavement 
 
 of blue, 
 To shed on our pathway its radiant hue. 
 
 II. 
 
 Brave hearts, true as brave, 
 Battling hard for the right, 
 
 Have gone down to the grave 
 In the noblest of fight ; 
 
 And their blood has been shed, 
 Like the water as free 
 
 From the clouds overhead, 
 
 Which now fall in the sea. 
 But the bravest in woman at duty's stern call; 
 
 For the fight of her faith is the noblest of 
 
 all. 
 
 In the darkest of days, 
 
 In proud temples she stood, 
 
 And no offerings of praise, 
 And no victims of blood, 
 
54 IGDRASIL. 
 
 No vows and no gifts, at even or morn, 
 To the shrine of an idol by her hands wonld 
 be borne. 
 
 Not one grain would she bring 
 As a false offering ; 
 Not one rite wonld perform 
 Though the gathering storm, 
 Red and lowering with blood, 
 Might be calmed and snbdued. 
 
 Her faith rose snblime 
 Over passion and crime, 
 Giving conrage to weakness 
 And manhood to meekness; 
 And an arm, though nnseen, 
 On which fainting to lean ; 
 And a power ever nigh, 
 On which to rely, 
 Upholding, sustaining the earth and the sky. 
 No favor she songht, 
 No worship she brought, 
 
IGDRASIL. f>5 
 
 Save to Him who had loved her and taught her 
 
 to know 
 How rich is that peace which his blood can 
 
 bestow ; 
 WTio is worthy alone to receive from the 
 
 heart 
 All the homage and love which the soul can 
 
 impart ; 
 Who had taught her to die, than to fail to 
 
 express 
 The truth which his followers are called to 
 
 confess. 
 
 Yes, 'tis better to die 
 
 Than to strangle in birth 
 
 The free thoughts which cry 
 For deliverance on earth. 
 
 Far better the prison, the iron, the sword, 
 Than to quench but one spark of the God-given 
 word : 
 
56 IGDRASIL. 
 
 The seed-thoughts once uttered a harvest may 
 
 win 
 Of souls now polluted, from folly and sin. 
 
 Our great Leader confessed, and o'er truth's 
 
 sacred shrine 
 He poured out his blood as an offering divine; 
 And he taught us this lesson : — ye craven hearts, 
 
 hear ! 
 "He who fears the One Father, no one else need 
 
 he fear." 
 
 SOlsTG. 
 
 ANCIENT GEEEK MARTYRS. 
 
 Lord of the worlds above, 
 
 To thee we humbly bow; 
 The martyr's crown we seek; 
 
 Place it upon our brow ! 
 
 No a Io Psean!" rings 
 Upon the burdened air 
 
IGDRASIL. 57 
 
 Froni us, who once could shout 
 Son 2:3 to Aurora fair. 
 
 •&■ 
 
 Apollo hears not now 
 
 The joyful maidens' chaunt, 
 
 In cypress grove or glen, 
 
 Where wood-nymphs used to haunt. 
 
 JSTo music from our lips, 
 
 At shadowy eve along, 
 Fills Daphne's bowers dim 
 
 "With, wild voluptuous song. 
 
 Phoebus, at early dawn, 
 
 Looks not for us to bring 
 The dewy freshened flowers, 
 
 Or costly offering. 
 
 Isot to an idol's shrine 
 
 We lowly bend the knee ; 
 But to thine altars, Lord, 
 
 We come ; we come to thee ! 
 
58 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Lamb that was slain for us; 
 
 Son, that to ns was given, 
 Earth is all stained with sin: — 
 
 Our home is heaven. 
 
 Earth groans with many a pang ; 
 
 Signs till the darkened air; 
 Come, with thy festal robes 
 
 Thy waiting bride prepare. 
 
 The thousand ages bring 
 
 The expectant jubilee ! 
 The scattered tribes still wait: 
 
 They wait for thee ! 
 
 III. 
 
 "How long?" was the wild, the piercing cry 
 Which swept the earth and cleaved the sky, 
 When blood like water was freely poured 
 At the feet of thine altars, mighty Lord ! 
 
I G D R A S I L. 59 
 
 In the depths of their sorrow and heavy 
 
 woe, 
 The " first-born" then felt its terrible throe; 
 And the "just made perfect" were summoned 
 
 to share 
 The conflict their brethren were doomed to 
 
 bear. 
 
 Like the kingdoms of earth, 
 
 When a star of their own 
 Is strangled at birth, — 
 
 Into darkness thrown. 
 At the trumpet's clang, 
 
 Every warrior bold, 
 As its echoes rang 
 
 Through his mountain-hold, 
 Will leap to his steed, 
 And, with eager speed, 
 The feeblest, the meekest, 
 The mightiest, the weakest, 
 Will rush to the fight 
 To defend the right; 
 
60 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And the pride of their forces, the young and 
 
 the fair, 
 To the conflict now summoned, iu haste will 
 
 prepare, 
 And hurl their dread missiles of wrath and of 
 
 woe 
 'Gainst the haughty invader, the insolent foe. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In the struggle and strife 
 
 Through the ages now fled, 
 Soaked and crimsoned with life, 
 
 Lie the fields of the dead. 
 The grass and the turf 
 Have been swept by the surf 
 Of the Red Sea of battle, that breaks on the 
 
 land, 
 Leaving its stains on the white drifted sand. 
 
 By infection and death, 
 And murder's foul breath, 
 
IGDRASIL. 61 
 
 The air is defiled 
 With "the heaps upon heaps" packed, and 
 pressed down, and piled; 
 
 Choking rivers and streams, 
 
 Till the rotten mass steams 
 
 Hot with fervors which blight 
 All that is touched by the horrible sight. 
 
 In the rivers that glide 
 
 In their beauty and pride ; 
 
 In the ocean's wave, 
 
 They have found a grave, 
 With their martial cloaks so grand, 
 Filled and ballasted with sand; 
 Wrecked and ruined now they lie 
 'Neath the calm and quiet sky ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Like a ship's crew, safe and warm, 
 Fearing neither wind nor storm ; 
 
62 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Dreaming long and sweet of home, 
 As o'er oceans wide they roam, 
 Till a treacherous sea ahead 
 Sends them all within a bed 
 Where the furies feed and gloat 
 On the carcasses that float. 
 And the sea-swell's angry breast, 
 With its furious, foaming crest, 
 Bears them like a worthless weed, 
 Or a frail and shattered reed, 
 Far upon the beetling shore, 
 Stunned by its everlasting roar. 
 
 Dark the night, and ill the guide, 
 When the vessel in its pride 
 Struck the breakers; and how soon 
 All went down, as in a swoon^ 
 'Neath the watery, waning moon ! 
 
 See ! the captain helpless yields, 
 Who had won a hundred fields, 
 
IGDRASIL. 63 
 
 To the ceaseless waves, that leave 
 Lance and bearer at each heave : 
 'Tis enough to make one grieve ! 
 
 In his wildly-floating hair, 
 
 In his eyes, which blindly stare, 
 
 The brine has left its deadly stain, 
 
 Which all the floods cannot wash again. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oft have I seen the purple even 
 Burdened with the quickening levin ; 
 Far away in the western heaven. 
 I have watched the sun go down 
 Over the fields and over the town; 
 And the one bright star, with many stars 
 Were sailing aloft, like silver cars ; 
 Shining like molten furnaces, 
 Or jewels upon a bridal dress. 
 
64 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Their liquid light 
 
 Was like phosphor bright, 
 Or the eye of an iron steed, at night. 
 
 All in a glow, 
 
 Like the flowers that blow 
 
 In the breath of June, 
 Were the stars overhead, and the full-orbed 
 moon. 
 
 vn. 
 
 The wind crept up the secret glen, 
 Along the streams and the sedgy fen. 
 The rippling waves ran down the brook, 
 And the coarse grass curved, and the marsh- 
 moor shook; 
 And the tall trees lifted their branches high, 
 Bathed in the light of a summer sky. 
 The owlet hid from the moon's pale beams, 
 And the whip-poor-will glided along the streams. 
 The silent bat clove the yielding air, 
 And the sky and the earth seemed wondrous fair. 
 
IGDRASIL. Q5 
 
 Then I asked the winds, " Say, whence have ye 
 
 come? 
 And whither ye seek your chosen home?" 
 "We come from the line of the Southern 
 
 Cross, 
 Where the foaming waves still tumble and 
 
 toss; 
 And we found a ship, as still as death; 
 £Tot a wave was stirred by a passing breath. 
 Her sails were hanging loose and lank, 
 And the juice was oozing from every plank; 
 And the lazy crew were asleep in the hold, 
 Like sheep now gathered within the fold. 
 All were silent as silence could be, — 
 The ship, and the crew, and the glassy sea. 
 And I hid myself in a cloud at hand, 
 That Hesper had borne from a distant land. 
 Then I struck the sea into phosphor flame, 
 And the quivering bark, that bore the name 
 Of the ' Ocean Wave,' fifty fathoms deep 
 Went down to the weeds, where the zoophytes 
 
 sleep. 
 
66 I G D It A S I L. 
 
 Oh, 'twas a sight so grand, to see 
 That ship, with its doomed company, 
 Sink, and no threatening reef nigh or lea ! 
 The helmsman awoke and clung to a spar, 
 And was driven a hundred knots afar, 
 No sun by day, and by night no star. 
 
 "Seven days' famine and thirst and fright, 
 I beheld him there, in his wretched plight. 
 In pity I sent a thundering hail, 
 And I beat him down with my icy flail; 
 And along my track I have left the wreck 
 Of many a broken, floundering deck. 
 And now I am weary, and slowly creep 
 Up the reedy marshes, to take my sleep 
 Far away from the stormy deep." 
 
 vru. 
 
 By falsehood's foul breath, 
 Scattering arrows and death, 
 The air is polluted aud vile. 
 
IGDRASIL. G7 
 
 It were well if the torch 
 
 Were applied to the porch 
 To consume, with a touch, the huge pile; 
 
 That the champers which hide, 
 
 In their glitter and pride, 
 All deception, and error, and cant, 
 
 Might be routed and cleared, 
 
 And the walls scorched and seared, 
 Without notice of courier avant. 
 
 For ages the temple in mockery has stood, 
 Denied by the lust of its votaries, and blood; 
 And, though covered with tinsel, and gleaming 
 
 with light, 
 Within, all is ghastly and gloomy as night. 
 And as truth has its temple, its altar, its priests, 
 Its gifts and its worship, its fasts and its feasts, 
 Its father, its children, its honors, its gains, 
 So falsehood its orgies, its patrons, its fanes. 
 Both the sweet and the bitter we press to our 
 
 lips ; 
 Every form has its shadow, — the sun its eclipse. 
 
 6* 
 
68 I G D 11 A S I L. 
 
 And if Christ has an empire he claims as his 
 
 own, 
 So Satan his kingdom, his sceptre, his throne. 
 Each his army, in numbers as leaves in the 
 
 air 
 When the eddying winds lay the forest all 
 
 bare. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Fear not, though the scowl 
 
 Of defiance and scorn 
 On his brow fierce and foul 
 
 By the base fiend is borne. 
 Mighty powers are nigh 
 
 To aid thee to win 
 Rich spoils for the sky 
 
 Over death, hell, and sin ; 
 And the smile of thy foe, 
 
 Like the meteor's light, 
 But a moment will glow, 
 
 Then dissolve into night. 
 
IGDRASIL. 69 
 
 Now, clad in their armor of glory and pride, 
 From their coverts they rush, like a dark swollen 
 
 tide ; 
 Defiant and bold, richly covered with mail, 
 And armed with keen arrows and furious as 
 
 hail. 
 Their hosts fill the air and darken the sky, 
 With wings tipped with lightning so swiftly they 
 
 %; 
 
 And, the air filled with portents, they eagerly 
 
 scour 
 Every nook, every quarter, their foes to devour. 
 
 Though mid leaves of the Igdrasil now they 
 
 retire, 
 And send forth their arrows all gleaming with 
 
 fire, 
 To corrupt every passion, inflame every lust, 
 And to lay all that's beautiful low in the 
 
 dust, 
 Yet in God will we conquer: his shield is our 
 
 trust. 
 
70 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Though their breath stirs the tempests that howl 
 
 round the tree, 
 As erewhile on the waves of the dark Gal- 
 
 lilee ; 
 And its branches are severed and tossed in the 
 
 air, 
 "Tis but wrath roused by weakness, the might 
 
 of despair. 
 
 And though famine, with eyes sunken deeply 
 
 and dim, 
 And death, its dark shadow, follows silent and 
 
 grim, 
 And lust, with its eyes as the basilisk bright, 
 Stalks abroad as at midnight, and hating the 
 
 light, 
 Our Leader will put them to shame and affright. 
 
 And though feuds they engender, and war to 
 
 the knife, 
 In the church, in the state, stirring hatred and 
 
 strife, 
 
IGDRASIL. 71 
 
 And hand joined in hand for the conflict prepare, 
 Madly bent on the spoils of the fallen to share ; 
 And passion and hatred they scatter as seed, 
 A harvest of incest and mnrder to breed, 
 An arm still is ready in seasons of need. 
 
 X. 
 
 The bright shining ones, in their vestments so 
 
 fair, 
 Still encircle this tree as it waves through the air ; 
 And their wings scatter odors and blossoms 
 
 around, 
 Enriching the air and o'erspreading the ground. 
 
 Since creation's first dawn have they watched 
 
 o'er the earth, 
 As they sang the first song on the morn of its 
 
 birth ; 
 And as swift and as silent as arrows of light, 
 They glance through the air in their rapturous 
 
 flight. 
 
72 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Shapes of brightness and beauty, they watch o'er 
 
 the pure, 
 And endow them with courage and strength to 
 
 endure 
 All the malice and hatred, all the pain and the 
 
 woe, 
 Devised by their recreant, desperate foe. 
 
 What sounds of rich melody fall on the ear, 
 In the soul's inward senses, mellifluous and 
 
 clear, 
 As the conflict grows sterner, with hearts firm 
 
 and true, 
 They resolve still to battle, to suffer and do ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Founts of hidden pleasure, 
 Without stint or measure, 
 Are to them unsealed, 
 And shapes of wondrous beauty to the eye 
 revealed ! 
 
IGDRASIL. 73 
 
 TVords of love 
 From above, 
 Voices soundless, 
 Joyous, boundless ; 
 Hosts in armor bright 
 Stretching onward, from the earth, to the gates 
 of light ! 
 
 Visions brighter than a dream 
 Now before their senses gleam ; 
 Brighter than that weary one 
 Had when, at the setting sun, 
 On the ground he made his bed, 
 Pillowing with a stone his head. 
 Mantled in his cloak, he lay 
 Till the dawning of the day : 
 While he dreamed, a ladder swung 
 Pendant, from the stars among, 
 Farther than the eye could see 
 In the realms of purity. 
 
 Thence, descending 
 
 And ascending, 
 
74 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Watchers passed the star-paved night 
 Till the dawning of the light. 
 
 Oh, these dwellers old! 
 
 Through the night drear and cold, 
 
 Mid the darkness and the shame, 
 
 Mid the torturing rack and flame, 
 
 Still they come, as once they came, 
 
 Walking to and fro the earth, 
 
 Since creation's glorious birth; 
 
 Noiselessly they hither trip, 
 
 Fondly seeking fellowship, 
 
 In our lone and circling sphere, 
 
 With the race of dwellers here ; 
 
 And, with many a rapturous song, 
 
 Bear the joyful news along 
 
 Of the tears which drown the sense 
 
 In the seas of penitence. 
 
 Where the fatted kid is slain 
 For the dead, alive again, 
 
IGDRASIL. 75 
 
 And the seething enibers burn 
 At the prodigal's return, 
 Joining in the song and glee 
 Of the great festivity ; 
 
 Or amid the choice retreat 
 Where the pure and faithful meet, 
 Joying to behold them raise 
 Prayer for help, or songs of praise ; 
 Or, offended, turn away, 
 And to brighter regions stray, 
 When unseemly rites and vile 
 Taint the burdened air the while. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Where the verdure and the bloom, 
 Fresh upon the recent tomb 
 Of the daedal earth was seen, 
 Washed by the flood of waters clean, 
 Oft they came, and sought their way 
 Where the feet of pilgrims stray ; 
 
76 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And in human form and face, 
 Humble garb, and saintly grace, 
 They would seek refreshment, ease 
 In the tent, beneath the trees; 
 And receive both rest and fare, 
 Princely feasts, and grateful care. 
 
 Or where bold impiety 
 Armed the thunderbolts on high, 
 And the gathering, angry levin 
 Muttered words of wrath in heaven, 
 Sped they quick to guard and warn, 
 Weak and helpless and forlorn, 
 Those who suffered, wept, and prayed, 
 And on God for mercy staid. 
 
 xni. 
 
 Ere the fiery tempest lowers 
 
 On the doomed city's towers ; 
 
 On its walls and gates of brass, 
 
 Its crowded streets, through which now pass 
 
IUDRASIL. 77 
 
 Those who buy and those who sell, 
 Those who in proud mansions dwell, 
 And the poor, the base, the mean, 
 In the busy marts were seen. 
 Vassals, with their haughty lords, 
 Despots, with their hungry hordes. 
 The rich, who proudly, stately tread, 
 And the poor, who beg for bread; 
 Men, who seek themselves to please, 
 Women, careless and at ease ; 
 On they move, nor dream the day 
 Which arose so bright and gay 
 Such a tempest could display. 
 
 Not a cloud to dim its light, 
 Not a portent to affright, 
 Not a distant gleam of ire, 
 Not a bolt of hidden fire, 
 Not a murmur to inspire 
 Thought of danger or alarm, 
 Death, or fear of any harm. 
 
78 IGDRASIL. 
 
 None, in fancy's seer-like gleams, 
 None, in faint prophetic dreams, 
 Conld anticipate the doom 
 Which should wrap their homes in gloom 
 In a fiery, smouldering tomb. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 In the sultry noon of clay, 
 Where the tents of Abram lay, 
 On the plains of Mamre seen, 
 Travel-worn, in humble mien, 
 Came now three, and by him stood, 
 Wanderers over field and flood. 
 
 Rising from his chosen seat, 
 Low he bows him at their feet. 
 "Let thy servant now, I pray, 
 Beg you will not hence away 
 Till a basin I shall bring 
 Dripping from the gushing spring ; 
 
IGDRASIL. 79 
 
 And aweary, as 'tis meet, 
 I shall wash your dusty feet. 
 Rest you here beneath this tree 
 Till refreshed by mine and me ; 
 Comfort here your hearts with bread, 
 Ere from hence your way is sped:" 
 They replied, "Do as thou'st said." 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Quickly bake three measures fine 
 
 Of the meal, whilst from the kine 
 
 I select the choicest, best, 
 
 And with milk and curdles dressed, 
 
 We prepare a fit repast, 
 
 Ere the sun its shadows cast:" 
 
 Then beneath the sheltering tree 
 
 Here they sat, — the strangers three. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Where is Sarah now, thy wife, 
 She, the partner of thy life ?" 
 
80 IGDRASIL. 
 
 In the tent, behold, she stands, 
 
 Busy with her thrifty hands. 
 
 Then One said, — divine his air, 
 
 Face, and form, beyond compare, — 
 
 "I will certainly return 
 
 Unto thee, what time shall burn 
 
 In the socket, pale and dim, 
 
 Life in quivering heart and limb ; 
 
 And, ere your work on earth is done, 
 
 Sarah shall bear to you a son." 
 
 Within she heard, nor could express 
 
 Half that she felt, but would suppress ; 
 
 She laughed, not loud, in spirit low, — 
 
 Laughed but to think it should be so ! 
 
 "Now, wherefore did she laugh?" said he; 
 
 "Is any thing too hard for me? 
 
 Yet, at the time appointed, know 
 
 The promised boon I will bestow." 
 
 "I laughed not," Sarah, trembling, said: 
 
 Weak was her faith, and sore afraid. 
 
 "Nay, thou didst laugh," he quick replied, — 
 
 And with this word, they onward hied. 
 
IGDRASIL. 81 
 
 xvn. 
 
 In the rich fields where Sodom lay 
 The herdsman Lot had found his way: 
 Selfish and weak, he eager went 
 To pitch in Siddim's vale his tent. 
 
 To him well known on every hand 
 The wicked dwellers in the land ; 
 Cautious at first to mix with those, 
 Known to be his and Abram's foes. 
 
 Too near to escape the tempter's wiles, 
 His fascination and his smiles ; 
 And soon he seeks the city's walls, 
 Leaving his tent for princely halls. 
 
 Entangled by his social ties 
 And many a bait of sweet surprise, 
 Familiar with the scenes around, 
 By chains of custom Lot is bound. 
 
82 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Though vexed his righteous soul each day, 
 Too faint to leave, afraid to stay, 
 Too just to approve, to weak to run, 
 He mourned the sin he dared not shun; 
 
 !Nor courage had, nor any grace, 
 To free him from the tainted place, 
 But found companionship and shame 
 With those who scorned Jehovah's name ! 
 
 Peril and trial none can fly; 
 Sin and its brood are ever nigh : 
 Yet rather fly to deserts waste 
 Than seek its poisonous fruits to taste. 
 
 xvni. 
 
 At eventide the herdsman sate 
 
 Near to the city's open gate ; 
 
 When, lo ! two stately forms appear, 
 
 To whom, with reverence, Lot drew near. 
 
IGDRASIL. 83 
 
 a 
 
 My lords, I pray you, stay this night 
 Within my house, till morning light, 
 And, ere the sun has blessed the day, 
 Rise and pursue your onward way." 
 " Nay, in the street will we abide : 
 No evils will to us betide." 
 Lot pressed them hard. Within the door 
 Shelter they found, and ample store. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The horrors of that night, for shame, 
 We dare not speak, we will not name: 
 Let it suffice that wrath apace 
 Was threatened 'gainst the doomed place. 
 "Up! fly thee from these hated walls; 
 Thou and thy sons, forsake its halls." 
 And while they lingered, hand to hand, 
 They force them from the sin-cursed land. 
 "Haste, for thy life; look not behind; 
 Dead be to all you leave, and blind ! 
 
84 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Fly to the mountains whence you came, 
 Or perish in the wrathful name !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 The sun rose clear that day on high, 
 And not a cloud bedimmed the sky, 
 And, bathed within its yellow light, 
 Cities and plains shone wondrous bright; 
 When God rained fire from heaven, to brand 
 All that was seen upon the land. 
 Cities and plains, and flocks and men, 
 Doomed ne'er to rise on earth again. 
 
 Thus ever round our path they stray, 
 To guide and guard us in our way ; 
 Though now unseen, a watchful eye 
 Still sends these warders from the sky. 
 In sickness, sorrow, guilt, and shame, 
 They gird us by a wall of flame ; 
 In pain and anguish of the mind, 
 They guard us, viewless as the wind. 
 
IGDRASIL. 85 
 
 Darkness and doubt before tliem flee. 
 
 "> 
 
 On the verge of life's deep mystery; 
 
 And outward sorrow or despair 
 
 Flee by their presence into air. 
 
 In prisons, tortures, rack, and flame, 
 
 In sorrow, suffering, and in shame, 
 
 In deserts wild or mountains drear, 
 
 In doubt and darkness, hope and fear, 
 
 Or on the earth or on the sea, 
 
 They come in our extremity; 
 
 And, by some wakened thought or word, 
 
 Or inward feeling strongly stirred, 
 
 They move, admonish, cherish, fill, 
 
 Our plastic spirits at their will. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 Like Egypt, dark uprose a spell 
 
 From the murky depths of hell ; 
 
 The smoke-smothered air was thick and dun 
 
 Up to the central sun. 
 
 Chaos again, and ancient night, 
 Drunk every shimmering ray of light ; 
 And dim-eyed workers, gaunt and pale, 
 Moved like the oozy snail. 
 
 Like the salt that licks the shore, 
 Leaving it baser than before ; 
 So the sea of darkness rose and fell 
 "With a mighty swell. 
 
 8 87 
 
88 IGDEASIL. 
 
 Men were affrighted, in terror fled, 
 Weary with life, and sought the dead; 
 Drenched with the rain and heartless sea, 
 Mad with their misery ! 
 
 Its waves were breaking upon the strand, 
 Over the ramparts, over the land, 
 Over the hamlets, the hill-clad vines, 
 Over the storm-tost pines; 
 
 The hoary woods, and the waving grain, 
 And cities that smoked along the plain, 
 And the gem-like cots that slumbering lie 
 ]STeath the quiet sky 
 
 Where the children played at dusky eve. 
 And the homeward flocks a pathway weave; 
 And the social swallow skimmed the air, 
 When the night was fair. 
 
IGDRASIL. 89 
 
 n. 
 
 Oh, it was cold as cold could be, 
 And dark as cold, on that swollen sea; 
 The sun seemed dying in his own blood, 
 And in terror stood. 
 
 And the stars grew pale, and the watery moon 
 Reeled and faded, as in a swoon ; 
 And the thunder-split hills, by earthquakes riven, 
 Into the floods were driven. 
 
 And the earth grew faint for the wretched sight, 
 And sighed for one ray of the morning light; 
 And the dial receded fall fifty degrees 
 And left her to freeze. 
 
 m. 
 
 Theu, as wild beasts come forth from their coverts 
 
 to roam, 
 With eyes flashing fire, and teeth white with foam, 
 
90 IGDRASIL. 
 
 When the mantle of night o'er the forest is 
 
 spread, — 
 So the lawless by passion and instinct were led. 
 
 In its deepening shade they hnnted their spoil, 
 
 And the dead and the living polluted the soil ; 
 
 And the blood of their victims, like rain, soaked 
 the earth, 
 
 And the air was oppressed with their maniac- 
 mirth. 
 
 Horrid forms of humanity dwelt in the shade, 
 And gods, fierce aod cruel, their own hands had 
 
 made; 
 And the bones of old heroes and saints long 
 
 entombed, 
 In their mad superstition, they eager exhumed. 
 
 Wooden crosses they wore on their necks and 
 
 their hands, 
 Which, alas ! were soon changed into batons and 
 
 brands ; 
 
IGDRASIL. 91 
 
 And with these they beat down and consumed 
 
 every foe, 
 Till the earth groaned and maddened in anguish 
 
 and woe. 
 
 Wearied out with their sorrows, borne down by 
 
 their waves, 
 Men fled to the deserts and hid in their 
 
 caves, 
 And sought in their solitudes respite from 
 
 fear, 
 Mid the crags and the Alpine cliffs horrid and 
 
 drear. 
 
 But they bore with them safely the leaves of that 
 
 tree 
 Which from sickness and sorrow would set them 
 
 all free ; 
 And the lamp that was lit at the altars of 
 
 love, 
 Burning brightly they kept, fed with oil from 
 
 above. 
 
92 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And while darkness still brooded npon the vile 
 
 race 
 Who the pure faith in Christ from the world 
 
 would efface, 
 In the rude Alpine hills, like the light of a star, 
 Was a Pharos, which shone through the ages afar. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ten centuries — a decade most direful and drear, 
 Full of carnage and guilt, brooding terror and 
 
 fear — 
 Moved on like the tramp of a conquering foe, 
 Leaving nothing behind them but ruin and woe. 
 
 The earth groaned beneath them, the skies 
 
 darkly lowered, 
 Ere the gathering tempests upon them were 
 
 poured, 
 When the Saracen forces, with rapine and pride, 
 Swept the land with the might of their deep 
 
 crimson tide. 
 
IGDRASIL. 93 
 
 With the fierceness of lions, the fleetness of fire, 
 
 With the stings of the scorpion all burning with 
 ire, 
 
 Both by fraud and by force, with the rack and 
 the sword, 
 
 They devoured the apostates, by Heaven ab- 
 horred. 
 
 Ever thus has it been when the truth has been 
 
 slain, 
 And no power save the sword may revive it 
 
 again ; 
 Then "to arms" is the cry, when from earth 
 
 peace has fled, 
 And pity her last tear of sorrow has shed. 
 
 RTow a nation as vile as the one it invades 
 Will be mustered to battle and draw its bright 
 
 blades, 
 And the "potsherds of earth" with their equals 
 
 contend, 
 And the powers above all their influence lend. 
 
94 IGDRASIL. 
 
 V. 
 
 As the light shines more brightly, more perfect 
 
 the day, 
 So the shadows more deeply their gloom will 
 
 display ; 
 And as mercy its fulness of blessing reveals, 
 Behind her injustice more covertly steals; 
 
 Thus the power of evil we never can know 
 Till good all its riches of kindness shall 
 
 show; 
 As the spectres of darkness our spirits affright 
 When the gleam of the sunshine our prisons 
 
 may light. 
 
 "When the true prophets came, then the false 
 
 ones were near, 
 When the Christ, then the anti-Christ soon will 
 
 appear ; 
 
IGDRASIL. 95 
 
 So the base coin is seen without measure or stint 
 "When the good in abundance shall pour from 
 the mint. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As the child in its helplessness needs every stay 
 To guard and defend it along its new way, 
 So, when weak in its infancy, God wisely gave 
 Signs and wonders, the church from all error to 
 save. 
 
 But when instinct gives place to a far nobler 
 
 guide, 
 And reason stands by us, and clings to our side, 
 Then the age filled with portents shall hence 
 
 pass away, 
 For the mind needs but truth for its prop and 
 
 its stay. 
 
 But, as man is both foolish and false to his race, 
 Idle tales, endless fables, his records disgrace ; 
 
96 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And the pure light of heaven by them soon will 
 
 pale, 
 And darkness and error instead will prevail. 
 
 " Lying wonders and signs" fill the earth and 
 
 the sky, 
 And Madonnas a-weeping pump up tears to each 
 
 eye; 
 Januarius at Naples, as old as the Flood 
 And as dry as a mummy, still shows running 
 
 blood. 
 
 Saintly bones and old cloaks, ragged shirts and 
 
 old shoes, 
 Holy relics and medals, will not even refuse 
 To perform wondrous cures, and to raise e'en 
 
 the dead; 
 So the church of the priesthood has piously said. 
 
 And to rescue the sepulchre out of the hand 
 j Mos 
 land 
 
 Of the Moslem, who claims still his share in the 
 
IGDRASIL. 97 
 
 Which the prophets and martyrs received as 
 
 their own, 
 And which Israel in fee holds the title alone 
 
 All Europe was summoned, the young and the old, 
 The weak and the mighty, the timid and bold ; 
 To unite all their forces in one mighty stream, 
 Gf merit sufficient, their souls to redeem! 
 
 Moved by heaven, it was said, boys and girls 
 
 stole away; 
 In battalions they hastened as suppliants to pray 
 That the "Virgin Immaculate" now would 
 
 restore 
 The only sure way to the kingdom, — this door ! 
 
 On the Alps, amid famine and ice-cliffs and sleet, 
 Thirty thousand were seen without shoes on 
 
 their feet, 
 And were dragged or were driven, like sheep, to 
 
 be slain, 
 The rock-girded sepulchre thus to obtain. 
 
98 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Even now, in our own chosen home in the West, 
 Mother-church deems herself highly honored 
 
 and blest 
 To invite all her children without fail to come 
 And hold in Saint Xavier a grand Triduum. 
 
 PETER CLAVER. 
 
 Due honors now by saintly Xavier 
 Are given to ancient Peter Claver, 
 A canonized saint of Xono Pio, 
 And henceforth known within Ohio 
 As one who centuries past had died, 
 But only now beatified ! 
 
 O pious Claver ! what a story 
 Could you relate of Purgatory, 
 Since the fell day that you were tired 
 Of this vain world, and then expired ! 
 It was too bad that you should wait 
 So long a time at Peter's gate, 
 
IGDRASIL. 99 
 
 Ere in his realms to slip or slide, 
 And join the saints, beatified ! 
 
 You doubtless thought it very long 
 Ere you had joined the happy throng, 
 When others guiltier far, and meaner, 
 Had gone, than Peter of Cargena ; 
 In truth, I guess they were disguised, 
 And stole among the canonized. 
 
 But merit, soon or late, is sure 
 
 To be requited to the pure ; 
 
 And though forgotten and neglected, 
 
 Perchance proscribed, or else suspected, 
 
 At length has come the unlooked-for favor 
 
 To poor, desponding Peter Claver. 
 
 A Triduwn is here begun 
 
 In honor of the fame you won ; 
 
 In which your deeds of great renown 
 
 Are heralded through all the town: 
 
 How that, with many other things 
 
 As mother-church his praises sings, 
 
 9 
 
100 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Diseases of the sick he bore ; 
 The blind to sight he did restore ; 
 And even to life he raised the dead, 
 As fame, with doubtful tongue, has said. 
 
 His cloak — though worn and very old, 
 Used to defend him from the cold — 
 He oft was known to kindly spread 
 Beneath the dying and the dead; 
 Though not so full of virtue then, 
 As when on earth a denizen 
 Old Clavier lived; but, from the hour 
 He died, with some strange power 
 The sick by contact it will save, 
 And snatch even victory from the grave. 
 And now it is by Rome decreed, 
 The faithful shall from sin be freed, 
 And full indulgence shall be given 
 To trample on the laws of heaven, 
 If this Triduum, without waver, 
 Shall now be kept for Peter Claver. 
 
IGDRASIL. 101 
 
 And prayer for Christian kings be given, 
 To Him that rules o'er earth and heaven, 
 That concord shall with them he found 
 To crush each free thought to the ground; 
 To quench each spark of generous fire 
 The breath of freedom may inspire, 
 And thus to exorcise and free 
 The world from hateful heresy, 
 And so exalt the church on high 
 Above the earth, above the sky, 
 That all the poor, the rich, the great, 
 Of every kingdom, realm, and state, 
 Shall learn submissively to bow 
 To him upon whose awful brow 
 Was placed long since the triple crown, 
 To crush the truth and keejD it down 
 Beneath his fierce and withering frown. 
 And thus is heard this strange palaver, 
 "Within the halls of sainted Xavier, 
 About this priest, old Peter Claver. 
 
PAET FIFTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 See now what stately temples stand, 
 With jewels brought from every land; 
 And chief are those to Mammon raised, 
 Whose altars every age have praised 
 
 'JSTeath the Igdrasil. 
 Under this tree, within the mould, 
 In search of that bauble that men call gold, 
 
 They are digging still, — 
 Digging and delving, day and night, 
 To bring the yellow dust to light; 
 The feet of the beautiful, hands of the brave, 
 Forsaking all, its treasures to crave. 
 
 Dig ! dig ! dig ! 
 Churchman, Tory, and Whig, 
 Old and young, the little and big ; 
 
 9* 103 
 
104 IGDRASIL. 
 
 With mattock and spade and hoe, 
 
 With hoe and mattock and spade ! 
 
 The rich and the poor of every grade, 
 Are bending low 
 To delve, delve, delve, — 
 Demon, sprite, and elve, 
 
 The merchant, lawyer, and leach, — 
 Each, each, each. 
 
 The bishop who will not preach, 
 
 The doctor who scorns to teach, 
 The well-fed sinecure ; 
 
 And all, who perforce endure 
 
 Hunger and thirst and cold, 
 And more than can be told, — 
 
 All for that precious thing called gold ! 
 
 II. 
 
 In the morning's first bloom, 
 They gather around 
 
IGDRASIL. 105 
 
 As if summoned by doom, 
 To dig the ground 
 Of this ancient tree ! 
 And they cease not their labor when midnight 
 
 is o'er, 
 And, full to repletion, they cry, " Give us 
 more;" 
 And, when shadows flee, 
 Still bound by its fetters heavy and sore 
 To its slavery, 
 Its knavery! 
 
 m. 
 
 All night, in dreams, 
 By auriferous streams, 
 Their visions are haunted. 
 The ocean old, 
 Is molten gold, 
 On which, through heat or winter's cold, 
 They venture, nothing daunted. 
 
106 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Golden the stars that shine at night, 
 
 Golden the floods of morning light ; 
 
 Even guilt clutches ingots of gold and ex- 
 pires, . . 
 
 And the shorn priest with gold feeds his smoul- 
 dering fires. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The pen of the poet is touched by its power, 
 When basely he panders for Dives's vile dower ; 
 And the voice of the eloquent often is mute, 
 Struck dumb by the touch of this poisonous 
 fruit. 
 
 V. 
 
 It nerves the assassin to strike down his 
 
 And tempts the foul Judas his Lord to be- 
 tray,— 
 
IGDRASIL. 107 
 
 Disposes both kingdoms and thrones by its 
 
 lust, 
 And tramples down freedom and truth in the 
 
 dust. 
 It builds its proud temples on lands drenched 
 
 with gore, 
 Till blood stains its altars, its walls, and its 
 
 floor, 
 And "beam answers beam," as the worshippers 
 
 stand, 
 " There is blood unappeased here, — blood on 
 
 each hand." 
 
PART SIXTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come thou, breath of Spring, 
 
 Gently thy breezes blow; 
 Quick all thy influence bring, — 
 
 Thy arching bow! 
 Scatter thy dower of bliss, 
 Opening each swelling bud with thy sweet vernal 
 kiss. 
 Day after day 
 Still adding flower to flower, 
 Hour after hour, 
 For aye, 
 Till, one by one, 
 New fruits shall ripen 'neath the ascending sun. 
 
 109 
 
110 IGDEASIL. 
 
 "What if they fall ? 
 
 Red-ripe they sure must be; 
 Nor will we deem that all 
 Should cling to thee, 
 noble tree ! 
 The fruit must have its harvest-festival, 
 Its buds, its blossoming, 
 Its gathering. 
 
 n. 
 
 To its branches we hold, 
 
 And we shrink from the mould 
 
 'Neath the brave Igdrasil; 
 But the tendrils are frail, 
 Storm-riven by the hail 
 
 Which beats on them still. 
 
 ni. 
 
 Though severed and tossed, 
 Though fallen, not lost; 
 
I G D R A S I L. Ill 
 
 Rich, tile soil they have found, 
 In the quiet church-ground, 
 To which we are bound. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Mighty harvests are there, 
 Garnered closely with care ; 
 Angel reapers will come 
 To gather them home. 
 
 V. 
 
 Be silent, heart! 
 Let the lovely depart: 
 AVith their kindred they sleep, 
 How sweetly ! how deep ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 But the morn will awake, 
 
 And the glad earth will shake 
 10 
 
112 IGDRASIL. 
 
 With a rapturous song, 
 
 "Which the heavens will prolong. 
 
 VII. 
 
 s 
 
 " Death, where's thy sting ?" 
 The ransomed will sing ; 
 "0 Death, yield thy trust," 
 Will be heard by the dust; 
 For the Victor is nigh, 
 Who will gather his jewels to set in the sky. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But come not, Death, when the bud and the 
 
 flower 
 In the warm breath of Spring are displaying 
 
 their power, 
 And the dew and the sunshine are beaming so 
 
 bright, 
 And the heart is so trusting, so joyous and 
 
 light. 
 
IGDRASIL. 113 
 
 Let the summer-time ripen the promise of 
 
 spring, 
 And the birds all their carols of music shall 
 
 sing; 
 Let the flowers in rich coronals round us now 
 
 wreathe, 
 And their fragrance upon us in affluence breathe. 
 
 And if Autumn shall come with its russet of 
 
 brown, 
 Weaving over the fruit its rich velvet of down, 
 And the clusters are hanging so temptingly 
 
 sweet, 
 Stir not the dry leaves with thy unbidden feet ! 
 
 But if Winter shall blow with its winds cold and 
 
 drear, 
 And the ripe corn is ready, its leaves dry and 
 
 sear, 
 Then come thou, Death ! and we'll yield thee 
 
 thy own, 
 And silence each murmur and stifle each groan. 
 
114 IGDRASIL. 
 
 But, with delicate skill and with daintiest care, 
 Death conies to the beautiful, lovely, and fair; 
 And, scorning the aged, the worthless, the 
 
 vain, 
 Most partial, he chooses the goldenest grain. 
 
 He waits not the hour when the full bloom shall 
 
 pour, 
 Breathing out on the air all its fulness and 
 
 store, 
 But with stealth eats the life from the soft 
 
 bursting shoot, 
 And destroys all the promise, — the earnest of 
 
 fruit. 
 
 The eye that he quenches, he kindles with fires. 
 
 And the tints he despoils, with new beauty in- 
 spires ; 
 
 And the mind that he prostrates, he seeks to 
 refine, 
 
 And the heart that he crushes, he first makes 
 divine. 
 
IGDRASIL. 115 
 
 But think not, Death, that thy sceptre shall 
 
 claim 
 The reward that thou seekest of honor and 
 
 fame : 
 The bud yet will blossom, its earnest is sure, 
 And the fruit gathered early in heaven shall 
 
 mature. 
 
 IX. 
 
 "Wave on, noble tree, 
 In the clear light shining ; 
 
 Fond memories for me 
 Thy rich buds are entwining. 
 
 The clambering vines, and their rich, fragrant 
 flowers, 
 
 With the primrose and hyacinths hid in thy 
 bowers, 
 
 Recall to my heart many seasons of glad- 
 ness, 
 
 Seasons of hope, and seasons of sadness. 
 
 10* 
 
116 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Bright eyes look out, now haunting me ever, 
 
 Faces once bright, pale now forever, 
 
 Smiles shining sweetly as the light on you 
 
 beaming, 
 Dark raven locks in the fresh breezes streaming. 
 
 Forms gay and graceful as crests of the billow, 
 
 On which the lone sea-bird has fashioned his 
 pillow ; 
 
 Glad ringing voices as the lark upward spring- 
 ing 
 
 "When the heavens are cheered with the notes 
 it is singing. 
 
 I look now and wonder, in dreams fond and 
 
 fleeting, 
 As the scenes of the past from my eyes are 
 
 retreating, 
 Till I wake, and the visions are lost to my 
 
 sight 
 And the fantasies fade in the glare of the 
 
 light. 
 
IGDKASIL. 117 
 
 The vision still lingers, and I see now to-day 
 The loved and the beautiful, long passed away ; 
 They come, as if summoned away from yon clime, 
 To meet and to greet me at eve's trysting-time. 
 
 As the shades gather round me, they silently 
 
 come 
 And beckon me on to their own blessed home ; 
 And among them a matron-form anxious I see, 
 With a babe now asleep on her low bended 
 
 knee. 
 
 And I know, by that voice which now floats on 
 
 the air, 
 And those locks thin and scattered, so white 
 
 and so fair, 
 That a fond mother's eye is fixed on me still, 
 As of old in the shade of the bright Igdrasil. 
 
 Groups of boys and of maidens, full of gladness 
 
 are seen, 
 Still trooping along on the old village green ; 
 
118 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And the shout and the dance, and the laugh and 
 
 the song, 
 With the wild wassail mirth, bear my spirits 
 
 along, — 
 
 Seen dimly, for now are my eyes blind with 
 
 tears, 
 As I watch the slow tread which in fancy 
 
 appears, 
 When pale forms, one by one, fade away into 
 
 night, 
 Till the turf covers all from my grief-burdened 
 
 sight, — 
 
 The maiden that blushed at the sound of her 
 
 name, 
 The boy that was frenzied and maddened by 
 
 fame, 
 The poor that were crushed by the proud and 
 
 the gay, 
 And the rich that had passed as the flowers 
 
 away. 
 
IGDRASIL. 119 
 
 The wrecked and the ruined, the wretched, the 
 
 lost, 
 By lust and by envy, by jealousy tossed, 
 By love and by hatred alike borne away, 
 To mingle their dust in the mouldering clay. 
 
PART SEVENTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 The eye of love, far-seeing, 
 Sees into things deep hid, 
 
 Catches the odors fleeing, 
 The light within the lid. 
 
 Lips trembling with emotion, 
 Or turned away in fear, 
 
 Reveal the pent-np ocean, 
 The storm within the mere. 
 
 The signs which others see not, 
 Love sees, and he can tell: 
 
 The blushes fade, but flee not, 
 Which he interprets well. 
 
 121 
 
122 IGDKASIL. 
 
 The filtering words that tremble 
 Upon the tell-tale tongue, 
 
 Though art and skill dissemble, 
 Are like a song that's sung 
 
 When all alone and musing, 
 
 And he is at the door, 
 And his name is interfusing 
 
 With the notes that from her pour; 
 
 Till by a rap awaking, 
 
 As gentle as a sprite, 
 Her nerves at once are shaking 
 
 With a most delicious fright. 
 
 She knows the sound, the measure, 
 
 The distance, of his feet ; 
 But love hath its own pleasure, 
 
 The scorner of deceit. 
 
 So he comes and touches lightly 
 Her soft and trembling hand, 
 
IGDRASIL. 123 
 
 And his brow to her how sightly, 
 His mien how noble, grand ! 
 
 He speaks to her about her pets, 
 
 The canaries in the cage, 
 The sparkling of the silvery jets, — 
 
 Some jest or persiflage. 
 
 A blush spreads o'er her modest face, 
 
 A tear is in her eye ; 
 She hides it with a gentle grace, 
 
 And breathes a half-born sigh. 
 
 n. 
 
 " Mary, the day is very fine : 
 The spring has surely come : 
 The leaves are on the eglantine ; 
 I hear the wild bees hum." 
 
 "Last night I sat upon the sill, 
 
 Just near the oriel," 
 n 
 
124 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Said she : "the air was calm and still; 
 It held me like a spell. 
 
 "The swallow clove the yielding air, 
 The lilac showed its bloom : 
 This rose, then steeped in dew, how fair! 
 Its breath was all perfume." 
 
 If yon had heard her voice of love 
 
 And seen her artless look, 
 Your soul would with the music move, 
 
 As moves the running brook. 
 
 But I was silent, and my tongue 
 
 Refused to answer then, 
 As if an angel-voice had sung 
 
 Within a hidden glen ; 
 
 When suddenly I chanced to spy, 
 
 Close in a secret nook, 
 A little distance from her eye, 
 
 An old, familiar book. 
 
IGDRASIL. 125 
 
 And as I raised it with my hand, 
 
 I think, without her leave, 
 I read, she gazing on the stand, 
 
 "My own, my Genevieve!" 
 
 A dainty pencil-mark it bore : 
 
 She heard me praise it well 
 When last I stood within the door 
 
 Of the old domicil. 
 
 And strange it seemed to me that now 
 
 It opened at this place; 
 And, looking on her shining brow, 
 
 I saw her blushing face, 
 
 And thought I saw her turn away 
 
 And look towards the sky, — 
 The way her thoughts had gone astray 
 
 Upon an anxious sigh. 
 
126 IGDRASIL. 
 
 in. 
 
 "Mary, 'tis now one year, I think, 
 Since first upon the green, 
 Just as the day began to sink, 
 We met: none else were seen. 
 
 "A violet in your hand, still wet, 
 A rose-hud in your breast, 
 A smile upon your eye of jet: — 
 I need not tell the rest. 
 
 "We walked along the lonely way 
 That winds the distant beach, 
 And heard the rippling waters play, 
 And gentle words from each. 
 
 " Since then we've met, and hour by hour, 
 The last the sweetest, best, 
 As evening shows her mightiest power 
 With Hesper on her breast." 
 
IGDKASIL. 127 
 
 IV. 
 
 She silent sat, and mused the while 
 
 Upon the words I said : 
 A tear was playing with a smile, 
 
 As she meekly bowed her head. ' 
 
 "Had I," said he, "the power to tell 
 What now is in my heart ! 
 But your presence holds me with a spell, 
 That bids all words depart. 
 
 " Had I the power to win and hold 
 A love so deep, so high, 
 The gift would make me strong and bold 
 As an eagle in the sky. 
 
 V. 
 
 "Love reasons not; it only feels 
 
 Its language is a look: 
 11* 
 
128 I G D R A S I L. 
 
 The sigh, that breathes, the tear that steals,- 
 These are its written book. 
 
 "And blurred all o'er is mine, I know, 
 With these mysterious lines ; 
 But hieroglyphs no meaning show 
 Till knowledge on them shines. 
 
 "And love's the deepest, widest lore 
 That dwells within the soul: 
 It stands outside the open door, 
 And comprehends the whole. 
 
 " The heavens are all her own when she 
 But casts her eye above ; 
 For her dwelling is infinity, 
 The home of perfect love. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Oh, strange it seems to me that I 
 Had never seen before 
 
IGDRASIL. 129 
 
 The wealth of love that's in the eye, 
 The beams which from it pour. 
 
 "No other voice but thine can shed 
 Such rapture on my heart; 
 No other captive e'er was led 
 To such a queenly mart. 
 
 "And yet the price at which I sell 
 My pure and peerless love 
 Is that you bring a gift as well 
 As that which mine shall prove. 
 
 "Let us be even, — I to share 
 The treasures that you bring ; 
 With these no other can compare : 
 Take my poor offering ! 
 
 "Love makes me bold: it hath no shame: 
 I give you all that's mine ; 
 And what I ask is but to claim 
 The portion that is thine. 
 
130 IGDRASIL. 
 
 "If Heaven but grant me this request, 
 This dower of bliss, my own, 
 I'll wear the jewel on my breast, 
 A queen upon a throne." 
 
 vn. 
 
 O love, thou art a sacred thing ! 
 
 It dwells within the pure : 
 On all that's good it seems to fling 
 
 A light that will endure. 
 
 Its own it gives, and, giving, gets 
 More than it seems to give; 
 
 As when the sun in glory sets, 
 The stars are all alive. 
 
 Or when the clouds descend in rain 
 
 Upon an April day, 
 The arching bow the heavens stain 
 
 With colors rich and gay. 
 
IGDRASIL. 131 
 
 But let not passion dim its light, 
 
 Or earth-born wishes blend 
 Their shadows with a thing so bright, 
 
 Its presence to offend. 
 
 But, purified by prayer and truth, 
 
 From sin and weakness free, 
 Preserve the beauty of its youth 
 
 With inward sanctity. 
 
 She heard the feeble words I spoke, 
 
 And answered with a sigh ; 
 And, though no answering accents broke, 
 
 I read her moistened eye. 
 
 I need not speak the rest; for soon 
 
 The solemn rite was done 
 "Which made our life a day in June 
 
 And changed two hearts to one. 
 
132 IGDRASIL. 
 
 vm. 
 
 " 'Tis twice seven years since we were wed, 
 This evening, Mary dear: 
 How rapidly the time has fled! 
 The day seems very near 
 
 " Since you and I, with plighted hands, 
 And words of deep intent, 
 Kissed the dear silken marriage-bands, 
 As round our hearts they went. 
 
 "We did not know each other then 
 As since we've learned to know; 
 Nor can we tell the moment when 
 Our joys have ceased to flow. 
 
 "And not a day has come and gone, 
 But some new light has shed 
 Its radiant beauty fresh upon 
 Your trusting heart and head. 
 
IGDRASIL. 133 
 
 " Not all of pleasure, much of pain, 
 Have been our earthly lot; 
 But time has left on you no stain, 
 Eor memory a blot. 
 
 "What deep heart-histories linger round 
 Our own, our happy home ! 
 The very spot seems hallowed ground, 
 From which I ne'er would roam. 
 
 " These four old walls within them keep 
 How much to fan our love ! 
 The rooms in which our children sleep, 
 Through which their footsteps move. 
 
 "How many memories crowd this hour, 
 Of things long done and said, 
 The magic of whose mighty power 
 "We feel, though they have fled ! 
 
 " A world of feeling and of thought, 
 To soothe or to control, 
 
134 IGDEASIL. 
 
 Which from the past this night has brought 
 Afresh within my soul." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Old Juba lay across the hearth, 
 
 His head at Mary's feet; 
 The cat was full of innocent mirth ; 
 
 The baby sleeping sweet. 
 
 A sudden flare of mellow light 
 
 The sea-coal shot afar, 
 And all within the room was bright, 
 
 Nor wanted sun or star. 
 
 Minnie — for so they called their pet- 
 Had fastened on the cap 
 
 Of the little doll, with eyes of jet, 
 That slumbered on her lap. 
 
 And Henry deep within the lore 
 Of Mrs. Barbauld read, 
 
IGDKASIL. 135 
 
 And widely on the downy floor 
 His well-built city spread. 
 
 The clock upon the steeple near 
 Had struck the hour of nine, 
 
 And Mary wept a pearly tear: 
 It was the twin of mine. 
 
 X. 
 
 "Just ten years since, this hour," she said, 
 "And mother passed away:" 
 The old canary raised its head 
 And sung a roundelay! 
 
 "Here is the spot she used to sit, 
 And there the old arm-chair:" 
 Old Juba looked askance to it, 
 And, rising, sunk down there. 
 
 "I thought she would not long remain 
 When baby sunk to rest : 
 
 12 
 
106 IGDRASIL. 
 
 She felt a cold and shivering pain 
 As I laid it on her breast." 
 
 The cat leaped now upon the knee 
 
 Of Elia, as she spoke, 
 And in the cradle, silently, 
 
 The little infant woke. 
 
 And Mary pressed it to her breast, 
 Then kissed it o'er and o'er, 
 
 And felt an inward peace and rest 
 She never felt before. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Bible lay upon the stand: 
 Its leaves were opened wide, 
 
 And, holding it within his hand, 
 Elia these words espied: — 
 
 "Their angels always do behold 
 My Father's face in heaven;" 
 
IGDRASIL. 137 
 
 Mary "of such," said Christ, of old, 
 Were to his Father given. 
 
 Then, bowing meekly at his throne, 
 
 They poured a fervent prayer, 
 That, since their first-born child had gone, 
 
 They each might find him there. 
 
 Oh, sweet affliction ! — doubly sweet 
 
 "When scattered joys shall lead 
 The broken-hearted to the feet 
 
 Of Christ in times of need ! 
 
 And through this open door and dark 
 
 He deigns to pass within, 
 Finding the chambers cold and stark 
 
 "With, many a cherished sin; 
 
 And with an eye inured to grief, 
 
 A heart akin to pain, 
 He brings the weary soul relief, 
 
 And makes it live again. 
 
138 IGDRASIL. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Our Lord by suffering learned to feel; 
 
 By want, to furnish bread; 
 His griefs had taught him how to heal 
 
 The heart with anguish spread. 
 
 His home a stranger's here on earth, 
 His bed the mountain cold; 
 
 A wanderer from his very birth, 
 Like a lamb without a fold. 
 
 O'erlooking all that pride, or state, 
 Or chance to us had given; 
 
 To him a man is good or great 
 Whose hopes are fixed on heaven. 
 
 The poor are rich, the rich are poor, 
 
 !N"ot as we think or see; 
 But only as they shall endure 
 
 All for eternity ! 
 
IGDRASIL. 139 
 
 And therefore sorrow hath a voice 
 
 In him that answers well, 
 And inwardly doth he rejoice 
 
 To break its magic spell. 
 
 Oh, blessings on his humble head, 
 
 Forever good and true, — 
 The Saviour, who for us has bled, 
 
 And rose for me and you! 
 
 And blessings on the hand that brings 
 
 To sorrow's lowly door 
 Such costly gifts and offerings 
 
 To enrich the suffering poor ! 
 
 And praises for the words he spoke, 
 
 His pity and his love, 
 
 And for the bread of life he broke, 
 
 And for our home above. 
 . 12* 
 
140 IGDRASIL. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Tears fall upon Ms thirsty heart, 
 As rain on meadows shorn; 
 
 And griefs and sighs that from us start 
 To him at once are borne. 
 
 In darkest hours, in storm and hail, 
 
 He comes, as if in need; 
 And we listen to his piteous tale 
 
 Until our spirits bleed. 
 
 He knocks for entrance, cold and chill, 
 
 A beggar at the door, 
 But coming with his hands to fill 
 
 The coffers of the poor. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "Abide with us: the day is spent: 
 Share of our poor repast:" 
 
IGDRASIL. 141 
 
 And as he leaves the lowly tent, 
 A gift behind he'll cast. 
 
 "They know him not:" closed are their eyes: 
 A guest with weary feet; 
 But, ere they from the table rise 
 At which he sits for meat, 
 
 They look with wonder, and admire 
 
 The words in blessing said, 
 And their hearts are suddenly on fire, 
 
 While "he is breaking bread." 
 
 They know him by his voice of love, 
 
 His look of heavenly grace ; 
 And, while their hearts his words approve, 
 
 He secret leaves the place. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Stranger, now turn aside thy way, 
 And look upon the past; 
 
142 IGDKASIL. 
 
 For life is but a restless day, 
 With shadows on it cast. 
 
 We guide our pen with trembling hand, 
 
 To lift the partial veil 
 That hides the bark that nears the strand, 
 
 Borne by the sweeping gale. 
 
 By love and sorrow rendered dear, 
 
 Too sacred to reveal ! 
 The records of a smile or tear, 
 
 Which every heart must feel. 
 
 And the deepest roots of feeling thread 
 Through sorrow's plastic mould, 
 
 As the oaks their widest branches spread 
 Within the moistened wold. 
 
 And only on the turbid stream, 
 
 To its own heaven true, 
 Will the rich lotus send the beam 
 
 Of its many-colored hue. 
 
IGDKASIL. 143 
 
 XVI. 
 
 "Bettie, the storm is raging loud; 
 The snow-drift fills the air; 
 The earth is covered with its shroud, 
 And cheerless everywhere. 
 
 " Alas ! how many poor there be 
 Who want for daily bread, 
 And wearily and heavily 
 They press a cheerless bed ! 
 
 "While sheltered from the angry storms, 
 Close to our cheerful fire, 
 How many pale and haggard forms 
 In cold neglect expire ! 
 
 "Take now your cloak, and wrap it well; 
 Haste to old Maggie's door: 
 A night like this, our hearts should swell 
 With pity for the poor. 
 
144 IGDRASIL. 
 
 " Since Elia died, I've learned to feel 
 The wants that others know; 
 And tears from out my heart will steal 
 At sight of human woe. 
 
 "We were so happy, so content, 
 Blest with each others' love ; 
 But now I know why grief is sent, 
 And sorrow from above. 
 
 "It is to make us one with those 
 Who share our common lot, 
 And feel the burden and the woes 
 Of those who are forgot. 
 
 " His voice is pleading with me now : 
 His heart, it speaks to mine ; 
 And radiant from his saintly brow 
 The beams of mercy shine. 
 
 " Then hasten through the secret lane : 
 !N"o danger need you fear; 
 
IGDRASIL. 145 
 
 And soon the lonely cot you'll gain, 
 And at its door appear." 
 
 Love makes us bold: it guards us well: 
 
 It fears no boding ill; 
 It throws around a charmed spell, 
 
 That holds us at its will. 
 
 No evil spirits can assail 
 
 The heart which it enshrines ; 
 Nor can our wishes ever fail 
 
 When love upon them shines. 
 
 "I saw poor Maggie leave the town 
 And homeward speed at even, 
 And shivering in her tattered gown, 
 By age and service riven. 
 
 " A penny loaf I chanced to spy : 
 A tear stole down her cheek ; 
 And, as I caught her anxious eye, 
 She wished, but could not speak. 
 
146 IGDRASIL. 
 
 "And as around my board to-night, 
 Our sweet repast to share, 
 Her cheerless home was in my sight, — 
 Her scanty food and fare. 
 
 "And as the howling tempest rose, 
 !No pleasure could I feel 
 Until I sought to share the woes 
 I am too weak to heal." 
 
 Adown the low and rugged steep, 
 Through drifting snow and hail, 
 
 She sought the lonely, humble keep 
 Within the lowly vale. 
 
 The room was dark, the walls were bare, 
 The windows racked and rent; 
 
 And in her manse, with grief and care, 
 Maggie in sorrow bent. 
 
 Quite old and gray, her wandering eye 
 Was sunken deep and low; 
 
IGDRASIL. 147 
 
 Her guest was naked penury, 
 Her inmates, pain and woe. 
 
 Her arm was leaning on her knee, 
 
 Her shivering limbs acold; 
 A wreck she seemed upon the lea, 
 
 A lamb without a fold. 
 
 "How are you, Maggie?" "Very ill. 
 And yet I think that He 
 Who bade the stormy wind 'be still,' 
 Upon the Galilee 
 
 " Had more of sorrow, more of pain, 
 Than I can ever bear: 
 He bore our griefs, and would again 
 Our heaviest burdens share. 
 
 "He hears the ravens when they cry: 
 The sparrow in her nest; 
 And underneath his watchful eye 
 He gives the weary rest. 
 
 13 
 
148 IGDRASIL 
 
 " 'Tis well with, me : 'tis naught can harm 
 The objects of his care; 
 Within no terror, no alarm: 
 He lives to answer prayer." 
 
 " The night is long." "Not very long: 
 I think of Him all night, 
 Until I hear the cock's shrill song, 
 That brings the morning light." 
 
 " 'Tis very lonely here." "Not so: 
 How can it be, when he 
 Deigns with the poor to dwell below 
 And keep them company?" 
 
 "Are you not weary of your life?" 
 "I am waiting for the day 
 That ends with me this mortal strife : 
 I'll go when be shall say." 
 
 Bettie returned : she left behind 
 The gifts her hands had brought, 
 
IGDRASIL. 149 
 
 And felt an inward peace of mind, 
 Which came to her unsought. 
 
 The winds beat high; the wintry blast 
 
 Impetuous swept the sky; 
 And, as the howling tempest past, 
 
 Mary returned a sigh. 
 
 Her heart was with her boy, away 
 
 Far on the raging sea; 
 And as each fitful gust would stray, 
 
 It brought fresh agony. 
 
 Henry a happy hearth had left, 
 
 In foreign lands to roam; 
 Shorn of her flock, by all bereft, 
 
 She wept, — a broken home. 
 
 For full five years no tidings came, — 
 
 A wanderer from his nest; 
 But still with hope she fanned the flame 
 
 That burned within her breast. 
 
150 IGDRASIL. 
 
 She waited anxious his return : 
 She watched from day to day, 
 
 Until upon the smouldering urn 
 The last spark died away. 
 
 And thus, with many a sigh and groan 
 
 She could not well explain, 
 Her spirit turned to Him alone 
 
 Who understood her pain. 
 
 He knows the language of a tear, 
 
 The meaning of a sigh, 
 The secret of a hidden fear, — 
 
 Love's deepest mystery. 
 
 The weary weight of crushing woes 
 
 Our words cannot express, 
 Finds One who well their meaning knows, 
 
 To others meaningless. 
 
 A sudden rap is at the door: 
 " It is the wind, I know : 
 
IGDRASIL. 151 
 
 Fiercely without the surges roar: 
 The winds, how rough they blow!" 
 
 A heavier knock again is heard ; 
 
 Her heart with terror quakes ; 
 And mid the storm she hears a word 
 
 That every fibre shakes. 
 
 "It is his voice!" with hope elate 
 She ran to clasp her boy, 
 Returned and waiting now to sate 
 A mother's heart with joy. 
 
 He makes amends for all her pain, 
 
 For darkness gives her light, 
 Bringing a harvest now again 
 
 "Where all before was blight. 
 
 Oh, strange the web which here below 
 
 Around our hearts is spread: 
 The coarsest texture still will glow 
 
 "With many a golden thread ! 
 
152 IGDRASIL. 
 
 And sweet reliefs will come at last, 
 When least we think them nigh; 
 
 As when storm-racked, the tempest past 
 Reveals a radiant sky. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 FUNEREAL FLOWERS. 
 
 I love so well 
 In the shade to dwell, 
 And talk to the flowers 
 In their sunny bowers. 
 
 I find them here, 
 
 I find them there ; 
 
 And everywhere 
 
 To me they are dear; — 
 
 Dear to my eye 
 Wherever they lie, — 
 By the side of the pool, 
 So fresh and cool; 
 
IGD1USIL. 153 
 
 In the garden-plot 
 By the little cot; 
 In the secret dingle 
 Or pebbly shingle; 
 
 Under the tree, 
 Or by the sea; 
 Through the waving corn, 
 Or the meadows, shorn. 
 
 And 'tis all the same, 
 Whatever their name. 
 On the clambering vine, 
 Where like gems they shine, 
 In the velvety grass, 
 Through which may pass 
 The warm south wind, 
 Leaving behind 
 Odorous sweets 
 From distant retreats; 
 Or in fields of clover, 
 Where the rich-laden rover, — 
 
154 IGDRASIL. 
 
 The honey-bee, 
 
 So busy and free, 
 
 Gathers his own 
 
 From the flowers unmown. 
 
 But I cannot say 
 That I like to see, 
 "What I saw to-day 
 In the hands of sleeping infancy; 
 Fresh flowers 
 From the bowers, 
 Laid on his breast, — 
 In his hands at rest! 
 Laid near his cheek, 
 So pale and meek! 
 Laid at his feet, 
 "Which were once so fleet! 
 . That these should lie 
 So near the eye, 
 Forever hid 
 From the sight of that lid ! 
 
IGDRASIL. 155 
 
 So near the lip 
 
 That cannot sip 
 
 Their nectared sweet; 
 
 Is it meet, is it meet ? 
 
 I cannot choose to see them now, 
 
 As I gaze on that brow, — 
 
 On that golden hair, 
 
 On those cheeks so fair ! 
 
 On his hands in prayer, 
 
 Folded with care ! 
 
PART EIGHTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 God, who now holds within his hand 
 Famine and plagne and fire, 
 
 To drive the wicked from the land 
 Or blast them with his ire, — 
 
 Dread agents, waiting on his will, 
 
 Quick to obey his word, 
 Ready his summons to fulfil 
 
 What time they may be heard, — 
 
 Still holds them back, — in love restrains, 
 Though hungry for their prey; 
 
 And mercy over justice reigns 
 Throughout the livelong day. 
 
 157 
 
158 IGDRASIL. 
 
 II. 
 
 This one by passion in his youth, 
 
 Unthinking, rashly falls ; 
 Old age, experience, and its truth 
 
 May save him from its thralls. 
 
 And this, a rebel in his health, 
 
 In all his thoughts impure : 
 Perhaps a worm, by hidden stealth, 
 
 His folly hence will cure. 
 
 Old age is callous, hard to reach; 
 
 Resistance is its law; 
 An ice-bound, rude, and blasted beach, 
 
 ~No sun or rain may thaw. 
 
 "I'll send," says God, "the winds to blast 
 The snow-drifts chill and bleak; 
 
 And in some storm-riven cliff I'll cast 
 A word that love shall speak. 
 
IGDRASIL. 159 
 
 "And round its spiry peaks I'll weave 
 A wreath of Alpine rose, 
 "Whose purple belt of threads shall cleave 
 To everlasting snows. 
 
 "And flowering shrubs, and myrtle lace, 
 In shaded fissures driven, 
 Will lend a beauty and a grace 
 To the azure vaults of heaven." 
 
 III. 
 
 Selfish we are, and hard : alas ! we feel 
 Our petty griefs, and shame and scorn 
 
 A brother's, — make our hearts like steel, 
 Hough-handling those with anguish torn. 
 
 "Mine is no grief," says one, "that shares 
 Its burden with a generous heart, 
 Dissolving half its stony cares 
 In tears that from another start. 
 
 14 
 
1G0 IGDRASIL. 
 
 "Nor do I deem the world can yield 
 So much of pity as I need: 
 "Where shall I find another field 
 Yielding so rich and ripe a seed? 
 
 "As love spontaneous threw along 
 
 The path on which my life has past, 
 Each day was like a jubilant song : 
 It seemed too precious long to last." 
 
 Let us not tramp, as swinish churls, 
 
 What to our sense seems vile and rude ; 
 
 Lest we by folly lose the pearls 
 In searching for ignoble food. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thorns of ungenerous thoughts will choke the 
 seed 
 
 That fall upon the rich retentive soil, 
 Which, to our shame, a harvest vile may breed, 
 
 To show our thriftlessness and mock our toil. 
 
IGDRASIL. 161 
 
 As the dim shadows of life's closing day 
 Gather around us from the darkened sky, 
 
 The flakes of crimson-cloud may send a ray, 
 Calling us upward to the realms on high. 
 
 Earth fades, suns darken, and the night has 
 come, 
 And sleep to weary ones its opiate sends, 
 Till, like the child at shadowy eve, towards 
 home 
 Along his chosen pathway eager tends. 
 
 And as no vistas please, how bright the scene, 
 Or varied landscapes tempt the artist's eye, 
 
 Of purple cliffs, or summer's freshened green, 
 That look not out upon infinity; — 
 
 But only those that amplify and reach, 
 
 Like wandering sunbeams through the tangled 
 woods, 
 
 Or waters tossing on the lonely beach, 
 Telling of weary seas or mighty floods. 
 
162 IGDRASIL. 
 
 So the fond heart, aweary, turns to seek 
 Solace and joy from faith's illumined eye, 
 
 Catching each glint that sparkles on the peak 
 Of mountain-turrets pointing to the sky. 
 
 We are not what we should he : life is spent 
 In vain endeavors, and in wishes vain; 
 
 We feel that 'tis a treasure to us lent, 
 To he kept safely, then restored again. 
 
 We sigh for what we know not; and we send 
 Our thoughts full freighted to a world 
 
 We have not seen ; our spirits tend 
 
 Upwards and slow, hy counter currents hurled. 
 
 In love with all that's beautiful, we seek 
 For that which is not here ; we weep 
 
 In fruitless search, and fain would speak 
 With those who the rich treasure keep. 
 
 Our very life is hut a dawn; its rose 
 Deep crimsoned, speaks to us of day; 
 
IGDRASIL. 163 
 
 And when the shadowy tints around ns close, 
 The stars their teeming glory do display. 
 
 There is nor hope nor joy to man, unless 
 We look to Him who for us bore 
 
 The Cross, heavy as guilt, and lives to bless 
 Beyond our thoughts, above earth's stormy 
 shore. 
 
 Our nature he hath carried- to the Throne; 
 
 Shrined are the souls he bought, in him; 
 Through his great triumphs we have found and 
 won 
 
 Mansions above the burning seraphim. 
 
 14* 
 
THE COtfCLUSIOK 
 
 LIFE AND IMMORTALITY. 
 I. 
 
 How the heavens above, 
 In pity and love, 
 
 On this tree shed their beams! 
 Every leaf, every flower, 
 Feels their glory and power, 
 
 And with fresh beauty teems. 
 
 And the stars rhythmic march 
 
 O'er the blue pave'd arch, 
 Displaying their armor so bright, 
 As onward they go, 
 Moving silent and slow, 
 Raining on us their nebular light. 
 
 165 
 
166 IGDRASIL. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the quiet of midnight, at eve, and at morn, 
 Step by step, their bright banners above us are 
 
 borne ; 
 Flaming Mars, red as blood, the stern angel of 
 
 war, 
 And Jupiter, throned in his bright regal car, 
 
 And Orion and Yenus, now burst on our sight, 
 Like jewels that hang on the brow of the 
 
 night ; 
 And Saturn, whose rings, in their far-reaching 
 
 bound, 
 Seems the type of eternity, mitred and crowned. 
 
 And the influence breathing and wafted from 
 
 thence, 
 Regales the faint spirit and bathes every sense ; 
 Of all sorrow and sadness the heart it beguiles, 
 Like the odor that's borne from Hesperian isles. 
 
I G D R A S I L. 167 
 
 Proud boasters ! look forth on those clear-written 
 
 lines : 
 Each star is a word, as it brilliantly shines : 
 The heavens a volume, how deep and profound ! 
 And they speak to our hearts in their limitless 
 
 bound. 
 
 in. 
 
 "We may watch the seed 
 
 Till from darkness freed, 
 
 And the plant has arisen 
 
 From out its prison ; 
 
 And through every stage, 
 
 From youth to age, 
 The germ which unfolds itself to man 
 Our reason may compass, our senses scan. 
 
 But what eye can explore 
 That limitless shore, 
 What foot has e'er trod 
 That unbidden sod, 
 
168 IGDRASIL. 
 
 That divides between matter unconscious and 
 rude 
 
 And those germs in which life bears her num- 
 berless brood? 
 
 'Tis a sea uncrossed, 
 
 In which reason is lost, 
 
 In its gulfs and sounds, 
 
 "Without measure or bounds : 
 Within, no venturous ship can stir, — 
 Mid its floes no Arctic mariner. 
 
 'Neath its wildering star, 
 Dimly seen afar, 
 In the uttermost pole, 
 Is its ice-bound mole, 
 And the wrecks of many a keel and spar. 
 Beyond its walls, 
 And its dangerous thralls, 
 No headland lea, 
 
 No OPEN SEA ! 
 
IGDRASIL. 169 
 
 No city of refuge, to which, we may flee 
 In life's deepest, darkest extremity, 
 Save in Him who has crossed 
 
 The invisible line, 
 And was not lost 
 
 In the frozen brine, 
 But has shown us the way 
 
 To a world unseen, 
 Where the bright waters play, 
 And the fields are green, 
 And has added the wealth of a thousand 
 
 spheres, 
 And a world unmeasured by circling years. 
 
 IV. 
 
 O life, what a mystery thou art ! 
 What floods in that mighty heart, 
 Pulsing ever above and around, 
 In the earth, and the air, and the seas pro- 
 found ! 
 
170 IGDRASIL. 
 
 Its awful beat, 
 Its unmeasured feet, 
 Its sounds sublime 
 Is a musical chime. 
 Its harmony 
 Over earth and sky, 
 The cycles vast of Eternity. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ; ?:■: Jim I860. 
 
 M —J 
 
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