:xm'm KL«^!»#tfi ■\'fi .i\ ,. J ':„i.,. ;, 'v '■T-'/\: v^^:; • ill' -v-> :,^^v"•■''^ '111, "'\ :,.'"'■ Lines and Rhymes. GEAYE A^D GAY, BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BECAUSE OF THEIR ADAPTABILITY FOR PUBLIC RECITA- TION AND READING. FRANK F. LOVELL & COMPANY 142 AND 144 Worth Street ■., \ Copyright, 1889, by John W. Lovell. gijxXicatioix. TO MY MOTHER. /. C. H. TABLE OF CONTENTS. A Roman Legend, The Whistling Regiment, At the Stage Door, Why ? . . . A Legend of tlie Ivy, Society's Centennial, Two Roses, The Waxen Enst, . The Bicycle Ride, . My Study ("hair, . I Wondei", The Nameless Guest, A Challenge, . Imperfectus, . Priority, . The Pii.es of Pan, . When the Darkness Falls, At Sunrise, Let Silence Fall, PAGE 1) 11 20 2!) 01 34 87 ai) 40 42 43 44 45 47 48 49 G TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGE A Choice, 50 The Ring, 51 An Old Skull, 53 A Christinas Story, 53 Spring Song 59 The Rabbi and the Prince, CO The Green-Rooni Glass, G2 A Sea Song, 04 The Quiet Hour, 65 In No Man's Land, G7 September Revery, G8 The Last Gladiatorial Combat, .... 70 A Dream of Summer, 73 On the Way 73 Miserrimus, 74 Passing Clouds, 75 The Tiger and the Twin, 76 In London Tower, 85 LINES AND RHYMES. A ROMAN LEGEND. HouK by liour, with skilful pencil, wrought the artist, Slid and lone, Day by day, he labored nobly, though to all the world unknown, He was brave, the youthful artist, but his soul grew weak and faint. As he strove to place before him, the fair features of a saint. Worn and weary, he strove vainly, for the touch of Heavenly grace. Till, one day, a radiant sunbeam fell upon the u])- turned face. And the very air was flooded with a presence strangely sweet, For the soul, within the sunbeam, seemed to make the work complete. Swift as thought, the artist's pencil deftly touched the features fair. Night came down, but one bright sunbeam left its soul imprisoned there ; 10 LINES AND RHYMES. And around liis dingy garret, gazed the artist, wondering, For the work sublime illumed it, like the palace of a king; And within the artist nature, flamed his first, fond love divine. Which bewildered all his senses, as with rare, old, ruby wine. Yearningly, he cried : " I love thee," to the radiant, saintly face. But the never-ceasing answer was a look of Heav- enly grace. Out into the world he wandered, questioning, searching everywhere. And the stars above, full often, heard his soul burst forth in prayer: " God in Heaven, in mercy, hear me ! Hear thy suppliant's pleading cry. Lead, oh! lead my footsteps to her. Grant but this, or let me die.'* Friends forsook and want pursued him, still he struggled on, alone. Till, at last, outworji and trembling, reason tot- tered on its throne. And lie seemed the helpless plaything of some mad, relentless fate, Till the Sisterhood of Mercy found him lying at their gate; Made him welcome, gave him shelter and with ever-patient care Bathed his brow and brushed the tangled, matted tresses of his hair. A ROMAN LEGEND. 11 Long he lingered on the borders of the holy-laud of death. One fair Sister, by his bedside, counting low each fluttering breath. Softly fell the evening shadows, shuttiug out the golden glow. Of a gorgeous, lingering sunset, gilding all the earth below, When, upon his pillow turning, swift came to him hope's bright gleams. For the anxious face, above him, Avas the loved one of his dreams. But her life was one of mercy and the band across her brow. Gave the spotless testimony of a maiden's holy vow. " Is this Heaven? Are you an angel ? " swift he questioned her, the while. She smoothed back his wavy tresses, only answer- ing with a smile; " Tell me truly, couldst thou love me, since thou wouldst not let me die ? '' But she pointed to the band about her brow and breathed a sigh. In her hours of patient watching, she had learned the bitter truth, That the Sisterhood of Mercy has its anguish and its ruth ; Nevermore she came, well-knowing, from tempta- tion she must fly. For his eager, tender questions, in her heart, had found reply. 12 LINES AND RHYMES. Every moriiiiig, lie would question : " Will she come to me to-day ? " And the tender, truthful Sisters shook their heads and turned away, For adown his chissic features passed the shadow of his pain. As he closed his eyes and murmured : " She will never come again." In his dreams, one night, he fancied she had hent above his bed. And his longing arms reached npward, but the vision sweet had fled. Hopeless, in his great heart-hunger, through a storm of wind and rain, To his picture turned the artist, bowing low, with grief and pain ; Open wide, he threw the shutters of his garret casement high, PIceding not the vivid lightning, as it flashed atliAvart the sky. On his lowly couch reclining, soon in weariness, he slept. While the storm clouds o'er him thundering, long and loud their vigils kept. Wilder grew the night and fiercer blcAV the winds, until, at last. Like a bird of prey or demon, througli the shat- teretl casement, passed The old shutter, reiuling, tearing every wondrous touch and trace Of the artist's patient labor, from the radiant, saintly face ; A ROMAN LEGENT). 13 And the jurfgetl bauds of liolitning, as they flashed along the floor, Lit the crushed and crumpled canvas, worthless now, forevermore. And the artist, slowly rising, groped his way across the room. Feeling, knowing he had lost her, thoiTgh en- shrouded in the gloom. Then he sought his couch and niuruiured : " It is well, God knoweth best.'' And the sunbeams of the morning fouml a weary soul — at rest. 14 LINES AND RHYMES. THE WHISTLmG EEGIMENT. [In the recitation which follows, the effect can be heightened by an accompaniment on the piano and by the whistling of strains from Annie Lam-ie, adapting the style to the sentiment of the verses. The melody should be plaj-ed very softly, except where the battle is allnded to, and the whistling should be so timed that the last strain of Annie Laurie may end with the words, " woidd lay me down and die." The beat of the drums can be introduced with good effect, but it is better to omit it unless it can be done skilfully. It is well to state before reciting, that the escape described is not entirely imagi- nai-y, as many prisoners made their way through underground passages from rebel prisons, during the Civil War. An asterisk at the end of a line denotes where the whistling should commence, and a dagger where it should cease.] AVhen tlie ISTortli and Soiitli had parted, and tlie boom of the signal g\u\ Had wakened the Northern heroes, for the great deeds to be done, When the nation's cry for sohliers had echoed o'er hill and dale, When hot youth flushed with courage, while the mother's cheeks turned pale, In the woods of old New England, as the day sank down the west, A loved one stood beside me, her brown head on my breast. From the earliest hours of childhood our jjaths had been as one, Her heart was in my keeping, though I knew not Avhen 'twas won; THE WHISTLING REGIMENT. lo AVe had learned to love each other, in a lialf un- spoken way, But it ripened to full completeness when the parting came, that day; Xot a tear in the eyes of azure, hut a deep and fervent prayer, That seemed to say : " God hless you, and guard you, everywhere." At the call for volunteers, her face was like drifted snow. She read in my eyes a question and her loyal Jieart said, " Go," As the roll of the drums drew nearer, through the leaves of the rustling trees,* The strains of Annie Laurie were home to us, on the hreeze. Then I drew her pale face nearer and said : " Brave heart and true. Your tender love and prayers shall hring me back to you." And I called her luij Annie Laurie ana whispered to her that I For her sweet sake was willing — to lay me down and die And I said : '' Through the days of danger, that little song shall be Like a pass word from tliis hillside, to 1)ring your love to me."' f Oh! many a time, at lughtfall, in the very shades of death. When the picket lines were j^acing their rounds with bated breath,'^^ 16 LINES AND IIHYMES. The lips of strong men trembled and brave breasts heaved a sigh, When some one whistled softly; " I'd lay me down and die." f The tender little ballad onr watch-word soon be- came And in place of Annie Lanrie, each had a loved one's name. In the very front of battle, where the bullets thi.'.k- est fly,* The boys from old New England oft-times went rushing by. And the rebel lines before ns gave way where'er we went. For the gray coats fled, in terror, from the " whis- tling regiment." Amidst the roar of the cannon, and the shriek of the shells on high, You could hear the brave boys whistling: "I'd lay me down and die." f But, Alas! Though truth is mighty and right will, at last, prevail. There are times when the best and bravest, by the wrong outnumbered, fail; And thus, one day, in a skirmish, but a half-hour's fight at most, A score of the whistling soldiers were caught by the rebel host. With htinds tied fast behind us, we were dragged to a prison pen, W^here, hollow-eyed and starving, lay a thousand loyal men. THE WHISTLING REGIMENT. 17 No roof but the vault of Heaven, no bed save the beaten sod, ►Shut in from the worhl around us, by a wall where the sentries trod, For a time, our Annie Laurie brought eheer to that prison pen; A hope to the hearts of the living; a smile to the dying men. But the spark of Hope burned dimly, when each day's setting sun Dropped the pall of night o'er a comrade, whose sands of life were run. One night, in a dismal corner, where the shadows darkest fell. We huddled close together, to hear a soldier tell The tales of dear New England and of loved ones waiting there, AVlien, Hark! a soft, low whistle, pierced through the heavy air,* And the strain was Annie Laurie. Each caught the other's eye. And with trembling lips we answered : " L'd lay me down and die." From the earth, near the wall behind us, a hand came struggling through. With a crumpled bit of jiaper for the ca|)tive boys in blue. And the name ! My God ! 'Twas Annie, my Annie, true and brave, From the hills of old New England she had fol- lowed me to save.f 18 LINES AND RHYMES. " Not a word or ii sign^, but follow, Avliere'er you m:iy be led, Bring four of your comnides with you,"' wtis all that the writing said. Only eight were left of the twenty and lots were quiekly thrown, Then our trembling fingers widened the space where the hand had shown. AVith a stealthy glance at the sentries, the prisoners gathered round, And the five whom fate had chosen stole silent underground. On, on, through the damp earth creeping, we fol- lowed our dusky guide. Till under a bank o'erhanging, we came to the riverside : "Straight over," a low voice whispered, "where you see yon beacon light.'' And ere we could say : " God bless you," he van- ished into the night. Through the fog and damp of the river, when the moon was hid from sight. With a fond, old, faithful negro, brave Annie had crossed each night; And the long, dark, narrow passage had grown till we heard close by The notes of the dear old pass-word : " I'd lay me down and die." AVith oar-locks muffled and silent, we pushed out into the stream, AVhen a shot rang out on the stillness. AVe could see by the musket gleam. THE WHISTLING llEGUIENT. 19 A single sentry fii'ing, l)nt the b;ills passed harm- less bVj For the stars had hid their faces and clouds swept o'er the sky. God! How that beacon burning, brought joy to my heart, that night,* For I knew whose hand had kindled that fire to guide our flight. The new-born hope of freedom filled every arm with strength, And we pulled at the oars like giants till the shore was reached at length. AYe sprang from the skiff, half fainting, once more in the land of the free. And the lips of my love were waiting to welcome and comfort me. In my wasted arms I held her, while the weary boys close by Breathed low, " For Annie Laurie, I'd lay nie down and die." f 20 LINES AND RHYMES, AT THE STAGE DOOR. The curtain h:ui fallen, the lights were dim. The rain canie down with a steady pour; A white-haired man, with a kindly face. Peered through the j)anes of the old stage door. " I'm getting too old to be drenched like that," He muttered and turning, met face to face, The woman whose genius, an hour before. Like a mighty power, had filled the place. " Yes, much too old," with a smile, she said. And she laid her hand on his silver h:iir; " You shall ride with me to your home to-night. For that is my carriage standing there." The old door-tender stood, doffing his hat And holding the door, but she would not stir, Though he said it was not for the " likes of him To ride in a kerridge with such as her." " Come, put out your lights," she said to him, " I've something important I wish to say. And I can't stand here in the draught you know — I can tell you much better while on the way." So into the carriage the old man crept. Thanking her gratefully, o'er and o'er, Till she bade bin listen while she would tell A story, concerning that old stage door. AT THE STAGE BOOR. 21 " It was raining in torrents, ten years ago This very night, and a friendless chihl Stood, shivering there, by that old stage door. Dreading her walk, in a night so wild. She was only one of the ' extra ^ gii'ls, Bnt yon gave her a nickel to t.ike the car, And said ' Heaven bless, ye, my little one. Ye can pay me b::ck ef ye ever star.' "So you cast your bread on the w;:tcrs then, And I pay you back, as my heart demands. And we're even now — no ! not quite," she said. As she emptied her purse in his trembling hands. "And if ever you're needy and want a friend, You know where to come, for your little mite Put hope in my heart and made me strive To gain the success you have seen to-night." Then the carriage stopped, at the old man's door, And the gas-light shone on him, standing there; And he stepped to the cnrb, as she rolled away. While his thin lips murmured a fervent prayer, lie looked at the silver and bills and gold. And he said : " She gives all this to me ? My bread has come back a thousandfold, God bless her! God bless all such as she! " 22 LINES AND RHYMES. WHY. Why do I love thee ? Ask the flower, That nods by the woodhmd stream, AVhy it loves the light of the morning sun And kisses each golden beam; Ask of the blushing clover bloom. In the light of the dawning day, Why it presses the dew-drop close to its breast And droops when it steals away. Ask why the moonbeams kiss the sea, Why the lily loves the rain, Why the morning glory bares its breast, AVhen the sunshine comes again. Ask why the song bird loves its mate. Why the daisies love the lea; And learn from them, they'll tell thee true. Why thou art dear to me. A LEGEND OF THE IVY. 23 A LEGEND OF THE IVY. Ix a quiet village of Germany, once dwelt a fair- haired maiden. Whose eyes were as blue as the summer sky and whose hair with gold was laden ; Her lips were as red as a rose-bud sweet, with teeth, like pearls, behind them, Her smiles were like dreams of bliss, complete, and her waving curls enshrined them. Fond lovers thronged to the maiden's side, but of all the youth around her, One only had asked her to be his bride, and a willing listener found her. " Some time, we'll marry, " she often said, then burst into song or laughter. And tripped away, while the lover's head hung low as he followed after. Impatient growing, at last he said : " The spring- time birds are mating. Pray whisper, sweet, our day to wed; warm hearts grow cold from waiting," "Not yet," she smiled, with a fond caress; but he answered, " Now or never. I start for the Holy War unless I may call thee mine forever." 24 LINES AND RHYMES. " For the Holy War ? Farewell ! " she cried, with never a thought of grieving. His wish so often had been denied, she could not help believing His heart would wait, till her budding life had blown to its full completeness. She did not know that a wedded wife holds a spell in her youthful sweetness. But alas! for the "Yes" too long delayed, he fought and he bravely perished ; And alas! for the heart of the tender maid, and the love it fondly cherished ; Her smile grew sad for all hope was gone; life's sands were swiftly fleeting, And just at the break of a wintry dawn, her broken heart ceased beating; And when, on her grave, at the early sjiring, bright flowers her friends were throwing, They knelt and there, just blossoming, they saw a strange plant growing, Its tender fingers, at first, just seen, crept on through the grass and clover, Till, at last, with a mound of perfect green, it covered the whole grave over. And often the village youth would stand by the vine-clad mound, in the gloaming. And holding a maiden's willing hand, would tell that the strange plant roaming. Was the maiden's soul, which could not rest and with fruitless, fond endeavor. Went seeking the heart it loved the best, but sought in vain, forever. SOClETY'tS CENTENNIAL. 25 SOCIETY'S CENTENNIAL. Madame Van Guystp:!! was rosy und plump. Rosy and pretty was she. Mr. Van Guyster was portly ;.nd red, Portly and gruff was he. " Beautiful match," all the people had said When pretty and portly, the two were wed, Yet a cat and dog life was the life they led. Ah me! Madame loved dearly society calls, Charity fairs and all that; Danced with delight at Inaugural Balls, Raved o'er a new Easter hat. And didn't mind flirting a bit now and then. At just the right time with the right kind of men. But Van Guyster said: "Wait till she does it again, WVllsee!" April came 'round with its showers and its sun; Madame went driving one day. Her only companion a French marquis. Known to be rapid and gay. So Mr. Van Guyster concluded to dine Down at the club and get flushed with wine; Tluit he w; s upset, 'twas a very sure sign. Though rare. 26 LINE^ AND RHYMES. " Mrs. Van G oyster! " he said, with a frown, '' Flirt if yon nmst and yon will. Here is a letter whicii says that yon dance. Dance in the famous qnadrille. Here are the tickets and here is the way, Yonr little coquetries I shall repay. You shall stay home on that auspicious day, I SAvear ! " Slightly unsteady, he strode to the grate; Flourished the cards in the air; Calling attention to what he was at. Then he proceeded to tear. He tore up the tickets in wee little bits. He turned and he gave her particular fits, Mrs. Van Guyster scared out of her wits. Stood dumb. Never before had connubial bliss Taken this tragical turn ; What had occasioned an outburst like this, She was nnable to learn. Quickly she rallied and sweetly she said: " Mr. A'^an Guyster, you're out of your liead. I shall go to the ball, sir, unless I am dead, Now come ! " Scarcely believing he meant what he said. Think of the lady's surprise. Early next morning, to see all her trunks Carted oif, nnder her eyes; SOCIETY'S CENTENNIAL. 27 Costumes sent flying, right under her nose, Even her boots and her dainty silk hose, She was nigh crazy, as you may suppose, Poor thini;:! Mr. Van Guyster, at last, went away, Turning the key in tlie door. Mrs. Van Guyster then had a good cry. Curled in a heap on the floor, " This is my punishment," softly she cried, " These are the tears that all women betide. Who insist on becoming some wealthy man's bride. Oh! The sting!" All of a sudden she sprang to her feet, Fire flashing bright in her eye. Pearly white teeth were set tight as she said : " ril go to that ball if I die^ " Up through the air shaft she summoned her maid. Pulled down the hangings of satin brocade. Over them, dainty lace curtains were laid. So neat! Scissors and needles and silks were at hand. Oh ! Ili^w they worked on that dress. Slashing and cutting up hangings that cost Half a small fortune, I guess. Over her shoulders the garment was flung, To her anatomy softly it clung, Gracefully! Well! I can't tell with my tongue. How sweet! 28 LINBS AND RHYMES. Then on a ladder, out into the yard Mrs. Van Guyster went down, ])ainty, pink ankles exposing, of course. They Avere the talk of the town. Into a carriage she sprang with a dash, *' Drive to the shoe store of Mr. De Cash ! " Mr. Van Guyster threw open the sash, And swore, Swore by George Washington, Martha as well. Swore by the j^oiut of his knife, Swore by the sacred four hundred that he Would frustrate the plan of his wife. Hastily dressing, he flew to the ba-11. Stood like a statue, up close to the wall. Stately and ;:rini and bald-headed and tall. By the door. Distant, sweet music at last, from within. Smote on his listening ear, The famous cotillion was on then and she, — She was outwitted, 'twas clear. He chuckled and opened a bottle in glee, AVent in to the ball, when Lo ! who should he see ! His wife on the arm of the French marquis. Great Scott I Mr. Van Guyster, with jealousy wild. Sprang at his throat with a scream; All was confusion and then — he awoke. Out of a troublesome dream. Mr. Van Guyster had dined as I said, Mrs. Van Guyster was rubbing his head, Since then a much pleasanter life they have led, Why not! TWO JiOSES. 29 TWO ROSES. Beneath thy open window, sweet, I stood, last night. The stars, on high. Peeped through the rift clouds, sailing hy. To light my wandering, love-led feet Along the path where roses white Gave to the breezes of the night A kiss of fragrance, soft and light, With which thy sleeping smile to greet. And as thy curtains softly swayed. With fervent lips, sweet love, I prayed. The warm night wind would breathe to thee How Heavenly dear thou art to me. I plucked two roses, blooming there, One, purest white, one, deepest red. Thy love and mine, interpreted, And flung them, through the odorous air. Naught thinking, caring naught but this, One bore to thee a lover's kiss To tinge, perchance, a dream of bliss And nestle in thy golden hair; The rich, red rose, thy heart would keep; It told of passion strong and deep. And well I knew thy lips would find The kiss within, though love be blind. 30 LINES AND RHYMES. Ami wliile I lingered, lovingly. Content with thoughts that thou wert near E'en though thy voice I could not hear, A sweet surprise flew forth from thee. The pure, white rose that I had thrown. Against my breast was gently blown. And bore a kiss from thee, my own. To gladden and enrapture me. Swift lips, against the jietals fair, Pressed close the kiss, imprisoned tliere, And down the path, the roses white. Heard wliispered low : "' My love, Good-night. THE WAA\EN BUST. oi THE WAXEN RUST. Mr. Lensly de Jones was a timid man, Who stammered whenever he talked, It affected his gait, for he hippity-hopped AVhere otlier people walked. Now Lensly de Jones was a wonderful man. In the photographic art. He wasn't the chief in the Grand Salon, But he played a prominent part. And the day that the Crrand Mogul was ill With a touch of the gout, they say, Victoria Regina was out for a drive And happened to pass that way. " What ho ! " quoth the Queen, '" I'm in face to-day V faith! I am looking well, Many years I shall reign and a photograph, . To my subjects, this fact shall tell." So into the hall of the Grand Salon, Swept the Queen with her retinue. And Lensly de Jones was so terrified That he didn't know what to do. 32 LINES AND RHYMES. He stammered : " G-G-Good-day " and stuttered ; " p-pray s-sit," And stumbled all over the room, And he jumped wlien Her Majesty spoke to him As though 'twas the crack-o-doom. There wasn't a man in the British Isles As skilful as he, I ween. In preparing a first-class photograph For any one but his Queen. But he couldn't say " Lift up your chin " to her, He couldn't command her smiles, He couldn't put prongs in the back of the hea Of the Queen of the British Isles. She was out of focus, the light w;is bad. And her head was moving too; And Lensly de Jones felt a 2)osifive dread Lest the negative might not do. But he trundled the camera to and fro. And then he exposed the plate, And promised the proofs as the Queen rode off. Leaving Lensly stammering: " W-w:iit." Instead of the sensitive plates they used, What think you the man had done! Put in a tin sign which the legend bt)re: "At dinner. Be back at one." All day and all night, with a pan of wax. Poor Lensly might have been seen. With deep solicitude, modelling A bust of the gracious Queen. TIfE VrA.VIhY BUST. And when it avus dune it was })li()tog-n;plied And the proofs mucli ])k'asc'd tlio (^lu-en, For Lensly had flattered lier dread fully, With a faee sedate, serene. The Ilonse of Lords with a single voice Made Lensly a belted knight. They sent him tlie news one afternoon And the poor man dit-d of fright. Thus endeth the tale of the photogra])h Of England's gracions Queen, And the waxen bust of the belted knight, With the face sedate, serene. 34 LINES AND RHYMES. THE BICYCLE RIDE. [Whether bicycle riding oq Siiuday be sinful or not, depends en- tirely upon the spirit in which it is done and the associations of the ride.— Editor's Outing.] You have read of the ride of Paul Revere, And of Gilpin's ride, so fraught with fear; Skipper Ireson's ride in a cart, And the ride where Sheridan played a part; Calendar's ride on a brazen hack. And Islam's prophet on Al Borak; The fateful ride to Aix from Ghent, And a dozen others of like portent, But you never have heard of a bicycle spin Which was piously ended, though started in sin. Tom was a country parson's son. Fresh from college and full of fun. Fond of flirting with bright-eyed girls. Raving, in verse, over golden curls. Sowing a wild oat, here and there. In a way that made the parson stare And chide him sternly, when face to face, While, in private, he laughed at the young scape- grace. But the wildest passion the boy could feel AVas the love he bore for his shininsf wheel. THE BICYCLE RIDE. 35 lie rode it by night and lie rode it by day. If he went two rods or ten miles away; And Deacon Smith was heard to remark That he met tluit " pesky thing in the dark And it went right by with a glint and a gleam And a wild ' hoot-toot ' that made him scream ; In spite of the fact that he knew right well That evil sjDirits were all in — well — He wouldn't meet that thing again For a corn-crib full of good, ripe grain." One Sunday morning, the sun was bright. The birds' throats bursting with glad delight, The parson mounted his plump old bay And jogged to the church, two miles away, While Tom wdieeled round, ten miles or more And hid his wheel by the chancel door. And he thought, as he sat in the 2)a.rson's pew, " I Avonder what makes dad look so blue," Till it came like a flash to his active mind. He'd left his sermon and S2)ecs behind. Now the parson was old and his eyes were dim And he couldn't have read a line or a hymn, Without his specs, for a mint of gold. And his head turned hot wdiile his toes turned cold, And right in the midst of his mental shock. The parson deceived his trusting flock, And gave them eternal life and a crown From the book he was holding upside doAvn, Tom, the rascal, five minutes before. Like an arrow had shot from the chancel door. 86 LINES AND KHY31B8. The horses he frightened I never c;in tell, Nor how the old church folks were shocked, as well, And they said they feared that the parson's lad " Vv^as a-gettin' wild " and would go to the bad. For 'twas wicked enough to set folks in a craze Without "ridin' sech races on Sabbath days," And they thought the length of the parson's iirayer Had something to do with his fatherly care. While the truth of it was, which he afterwards dropped, He didn't know what he could do when ho stopped. Of course you know how the story will end. The prayer was finished and duly "Amen'd," Whem Tom, all dust, to the pulpit flew And laid down the specs and the sermon too. Then the parson preached in a timid way, Of sinful pleasure on Sabbath-day And he added a postscript, not in the text, Saying that, when they were sore perplexed. Each must decide as he chanced to feel. And Tom chuckled : " Sundays, I'll ride my wheel." MY 8TUDY CHAIR. 3/ MY STUDY CIIAIE. If tlie quaint old chair which has stood by my desk, For nearly a score of years, Could tell all my musings, botli s:id and gay. My longings and hopes and fears, What a tale it would tell of my youthful dreams. And the later years of strife ! What sombre threads it would reveal. In the tangled maze of life ! When the wild wind howls at my window pane. And the midnight fire burns low, New-born desires and dying hopes, Like spectres, come and go. I beckon the fairies down from smoke Or back from a goblin start, Then nestle buck in the dear old chair, . And it soothes my restless heart. Like a living thing it seems to me, W^hen the toil of the day is done, And it stands like a mother with loving arms. Outstretched toward a wayward son; It knows how often my hidden cares Have found relief in tears; It knows how the castles totter and fall Which a proud ambition rears. S8 LINES AND EHYMB8. It has found its way to my inmost heart, And wherever my footsteps tend, I seem to long for its broad old arms As one would long for a friend. So I hope, at last, when the Angel of Deatli Shall come from the Eealms of Light, That my dear old chair will hold me close Till my spirit has taken its flight. 1 WONDER. 39 I WONDER! I WONDER if, under the grass-grown sod, The weary human heart finds rest! If the soul, with its woes, when it flies to God, Leaves all its pain, in the earth's cold breast ! Or whether we feel, as we do to day. That joy holds sorrow in hand, alway. I wonder if, after the kiss of death. The love that was sweet, in days of yore. Departs with the last, faint, fleeting breath, Or deeper grows than ever before! I wonder if, there in the great Unknown, Fo7id hearts grow weary when left alone! I think of the daily life I lead. Its broken dreams and its fitful starts. The hopeless hunger, the heart's sore need. The joy that gladdens, the wrong that parts. And wonder whether the coming years Will bring contentment, or toil and tears. 40 LINES AND RHYMES. THE NAMELESS GUEST. I WONDER if ever the Angel of Death Comes down from the great Unknown, And soars away, on the wings of night, Unburdened and alone ! I wonder if ever the angels' eyes Are filled with pitying tears, As they grant to the souls, unfit for flight, A few more weary years ! For it seems, at times, when the world is still, And the soft night winds are whist. As though some spirit were hovering near. In folds of dream-like mist, And I feel, though mortals are noAvhere near. That I am not quite alone, And, with dreary thoughts of dying and death. My heart grows cold us stone. But Avhether 'tis death that hovers near. And knocks at the door of my heart. Or whetlier 'tis some bright angel, come To be of my life a part, I cannot tell, and I long in vain, The secret strange to know. While the moments of mirth and grief and pain. Move on in their ceaseless flow. THE NAMELE^;^ GUE/ST. 41 Aud at night, when I kneel to a Higher Power And ask his tender care, One yearning cry of a wayward life Is the burden of my prayer. That I may bend, with willing lips, To kiss the chastening rod. And learn the way, throngh tlie golden gate. To the great white throne of God. 42 LINES AND RHYMES. A CHALLENGE. " Good-night," he said, unci he hekl her h;uid, In a hesitating way, And hoped that her eyes would understand What his tongue refused to say. He held her hand, and he murmured low : " I'm sorry to go like this. It seems so frigidly cool, you know. This ' Mister ' of ours, and ' Miss.' "I thought —perchance — " and he paused to note If she seemed inclined to frown. But the light in her eyes his heartstrings smote. As she blusliingly looked down. She spoke no word, hut she picked a speck Of dust from his coat lapel; So small, such a wee, little tiny fleck, 'Twas a wonder she saw so well; l')ut it brought her face so very near. In that dim, uncertain light, That the thought, unspoken, was made quite clear. And I know 'twas a sweet, " Good-night." niPERFECTUS, 43 IMPERFECTUS. I WOJSTDER if ever a song was sung, But the singer's heart sang sweeter! I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung, But the thought surpassed tlie meter! I wonder if ever a sculptor Avrought, Till the cold stone echoed his ardent thought! Or if ever a painter, with light and shade. The dream of his inmost heart portrayed ! I wonder if ever a rose was found. And there might not be a fairer! Or if ever a glittering gem was ground. And we dreamed not of a rarer! Ah! never on earth do we fiiul the best. But it waits for us in a Land of Rest, And a perfect thing we shall never behold. Till we pass the portals of shining gold. 44 LINES AND RHY3IBS. PRIORITY. In her cozy little chamber, with her feet nj^on the fender, She was reading Walter Scott, the while her hus- band, young and tender, Wore a smile upon his lips that neither tongue nor pen could render. " Not one person out of twenty, with the first fond lover marries," So she reads and o'er the sentence for a passing moment tarries. While her question, with a subtle subterfuge he quickly parries. " Was your ardent jirotestation unto me your first confession ? " And, "AVas your beloved admission, your initial concession ? " So they questioned till it promised to become a stormy session. "Well! I married my first love, providing you did," she said faintly, "If you didn't — why — I didn't," with a smile se- rene and saintly. Thus, by woman's wit, the quarrel was averted very quaintly. THE PIPEl^ OF PAJY. 45 THE PIPES OF PAN. Beautiful Syrinx, garland clad. Over the hills and dales flew she. Goat-footed Pan pursued, like mad, Nothing of music then knew he; Love, sweet love, was in his heart And he knew no thought, from love a})art. Over the fields, through woodland bowers. White feet, wet with the glistening dew. Strewing the way with fragrant flowers. Closely followed, the naiad flew, Till, at last, she hid by the river bank. Where reeds and rushes rose, ra,nk on rank. Baffled and breatliless, here and there. Mad with the passion that knows no rest. Vainly the god searched, everywhere, Clasping the reeds to his hairy breast. And over their tops, as he held tlieni fast. The breath of his sighing swiftly passed. And soft on his ear, a sweet sound smote, A sound, so mellow and deep and clear, • That he sought on the reeds for another note, To gladden and comfort his listening ear. Till the harmony sweet that from them rose, Like a lullaby, soothed liim to calm repose. 46 LIJVJSS AND RHYMES. And he only wakened to jiipe again, And to tell his love in the new-found notes, AVhile the birds sought vainly to voice the strain. With the strength and power of their swelling throats, And Syrinx, Avooed from her hiding place, Listened, with wonder ujjon her face. And Echo, too, from her mountain home, Down o'er tlie valley, trijiping came. Over tlie stream, like a flake of foam; While, deep in her heart, there rose a flame. Of love divine, for the being there. Whose trembling music filled the air. Ever since then. Love's sweet desire. Voiced in the tones of melody. Has found the spark of a kindred fire. In the souls that have heard love's minsti'elsy. •Love's sweet whispers, withstand who can, Heart seeks heart, through tlie notes of Pan. WHEN THE DARKNEm FALLS. 47 WHEN THE DARKNESS FALLS. Two little hands are clasped in prayer, Hands like the lily leaves, so white, Pale little lips, with a weary air. Murmur: "God bless. my soul to night." " Mama," the dying angel calls, "AVill papa be here, when the darkness falls ?" Only the mother's tears rejily; Truth is, at times, too sad to tell; Maddened with grief, she hears that cry, Asking for one in a j)rison cell. '' Mama," the dying baby calls, '' Will jxipa be here, when the darkness falls ?" Slower and feebler each fleeting breath. Whiter the face that is pure as snow. Swifter the flight of the angel Death, Deeper the depth of the mother's woo. " Mama," again her darling calls, "Will papa be here, when the darkness falls?" Just as the daylight fades away. And the last faint ray sinks out of sight. Sweet lips wearily strive to pray; But the soul takes wing, with the waning light. Baby is dead, but from Heaven still calls: " Papa, dear, come when the darkness falls." 48 LINES AND RHYMES. AT SUNRISE. Over the greeu grass, wet with dew. Lightly tripping, a maiden flew, Eyes alight with tlie gleam of love. And the golden snnlight fair ahove. Now she stops, and o'er the M-all, Dainty fingers and nimble feet Cantiously climb, where wild vines crawl. Plucking a nosegay, fresh and sweet. " If you wouldn't be 2>lucked frc^n your mossy bed, You never should be so sweet," she said. Over the fields, with a stnrdy stride, A yeoman stejjped to the maiden's side, And over the cheeks, that flushed so red. With a tender smile, he bent his her.d. And his arm stole gently 'round her there. While the nosegny fell to the ground, unseen. And the song-birds warbled a sprightlier air. For he kissed her a hundred times, I ween. " If you'd keep your kisses, dear lips so red. You never should be so sweet," he said. LET SILENCE FALL. 49 LET SILENCE FALL. Let silence fall ucross the \)\x%i, Its fitful moods of storm and rain, Its weary hours of jealous pain, Let never heart or speech recall, If memory needs must break the spell, Kemernber — that I loved you well. And o'er the rest — let silence fall. Let silence fall between our lives. The one, sunlit, with youthful dreams. Flushed, with the future's hopeful gleams And held in proud ambition's thrall, The other, worn with anxious tears, And tired grown, with gathering years. Between them now — let silence fall. And let us part, as those who love, Are parted, by the hand of Death, And one stands, hushed, with reverent breatli. Gazing on funeral bier and pall, But ere we close the coffin lid. Let bitter memories all be hid. And o'er the grave — let silence fall. 50 LINBS AND RHYMES. A CHOICE. 'Tis weak to love, if all the world Is fickle, false and vain; 'Tis sweet to love, though all the world Knows well that love is yAXw. 'Tis vain to love, if love must change. And fill the eyes with tears ; 'Tis wise to love, e'en though love range. And rack the heart with fears. 'Tis vain, 'tis wise, 'tis weak, 'tis strong, We know not what to do. We only know the days are long. When loving words are few. To love is pain, ah! yes, 'tis true. And ever so 'twill be. But not to love and not to woo. Is greater all agree. So give me love, and let me find The sweeter, lesser woe; Love, fillet-bound, shall lead me blind Wherever he may go. THE RING. 51 THE RING. A BAND of burnished gold My fingers gently hold, And through the mugic circle of its rim. Before my dreaming eyes A thousand memories rise And fill my soul with longing, vague and dim. I seem to see the gate, At which I used to wait. For her who gave to me this token sweet; I feel a tender thrill That calls to mind the hill. Where hours, like moments, fled on jiinions fleet. The form of youthful grace. The smiling tender face. Is near me still, in spirit, though the years Have slowly come and fled And cherished hopes lie dead Along my way, too thickly strewn for tears. Oh! little band of gold! A wealth of joy untold Your sliining circle conjures to my mind. And will, until my breath Shall meet the kiss of death, And all the pain of earth is left behind. 52 LINES AND RHYMES. AN OLD SKULL. Under a tree, in a grassy glade. Delved I deep, with a well-worn spade. And there, half-hid in the soil, I saw A row of teeth and a lower jaw, 'Twas a skull all gray and grinning. With a bit of glass I scraped it clean, 'Twas the first of its kind I had ever seen. So I fixed the jaw with a piece of twine. Hung the skull on a climbing vine. And said, with an accent winning: "I say, old skull, you've a happy face, I thought that the grave was a dismal place, I'll wager a hat that when on earth You hadn't that permanent look of mirth. And frowned as you went about sinning. Confess if you're happier now than then. And I'll put you back in the earth again. Refuse and your future shall surely be In the dusty den of an old M.D, The old skull kept on grinning. A CniilSTMAS STOliV. 53 A CTinTSTMAS STORY. I. I PASSED tlie door of a house List night, Where a ricli man lives, in a princely way, And asleep on the steps, lay a man, half clad, Benumbed with the cold, and with sorrow gray; Tlie mansioiis grand were ablaze with light, I could hear the tread of the dancers' feet. But mourning bands swung to and fro, From the one dark door on the brilliant street, II. 'Twas a pitiful story I listened to. Of a ruined home and a blighted life. For the woman, dead, in the rich man's house, Had been the sleeper's misguided wife. I touched his shoulder and said : " See here. There's a storm, in the sky there, olT to the west. Just gather yourself together, my man. This isn't a very good place to rest. III. " These stones are hard that you're lying on. Hard as the hearts of the men yon meet. There are beds to be had, for a dime or so. Which are better than stones in the open street. I haven't an over sujiply myself, Of the cash you seem to sadly need. But here's for a lodging and breakfast, man, I wish it were more: take the will for the deed." 54 LINES AND RHYMES. IV. "That's the first kind word that my cars have heard, For a month or more,'' the man replied. " I'm only the wreck of the man I was. But a kind word rouses the old-time pride, I don't owe a dollar, in this wide world, Not a single cent to a living man, I've worked like a slave, to find success ; But I've finished, I've striven all I can. V. "I've seen bright days, when my purse was lined With bills and silver and yellow gold, I've known the joys of a happy home. And alas ! I've seen the wolf in the fold ; A wolf, that came in a friend's disguise. And stole the love of a gentle wife, Eobbed me of happiness, home and hoi^e. Snatched all the joy and light from my life. VI. " She didn't love him. She loved me well. Till the time when poverty's curse was mine; 111 fortune had followed my first success. And she — well — her tastes were always fine; So, when the tempter S2:)read out his wealth. And pictured the comforts it would buy, There was little need of persuasion then, He found her more than ready to fly. A CHRItiTMAS STORY. 65 VIL " Did we have a, child ? Oli! yes,, a boy; A bright-eyed, happy-hearted lad. He was eight years old when I saw him last, And he stuck to his father, through good and bad. But I lost him too; I was out one day. Hunting employment, from store to store. The rent was due and I knew right well If I asked for time, I could get no more. VIII. " So I hurried about, in the broiling sun, Heartsick and footsore and wear}' — well— I only remember that all turned black And I sank, in a sort of a fainting spell. 'Twas a week before I knew where I was, In the ward of a hospital, cool and clean, And when I was better, my boy was gone. For days, not a sign of him had been seen. IX. " I thought she took him, or better still. Perhaps God took him, in time to save His bright young eyes from the dreary sight Of a father, dead, in an unmarked grave: I'm not a drunkard, sir; look at my face. It isn't bloated, it's pale and thin And worn with the failures I've met, so long. And saddened from losing, where others win. 56 LINES AND RHYMES. X. '>' But give me the coin, sir; your card as well, Some day, if Fortune should smile again, ril pay it back and will walk, perhaj^s, With my head erect, like other men. For ril try once more and if failure comes, I know of a refuge from all tliis strife, Where many a soul finds rest and peace. Who has broken down on the road of life. XI. " There's a news-boy yonder. Perhaps you'll find, In one of his papers, a place for me ; Just glance one over and read me, sir, A few of the likeliest "wants' you see." I called to the boy : " Look here, my lad. Will you lend us a jiaper a second or two ?" lie laughed as he answered : " There ain't any law Against my sellin' a paper to you." XII. At the sound of his voice, the old man stared. And \n\t out his hand in a groping way. Then passed it over his forehead, bare. As though his senses had gone astray. " What's wrong ? " I questioned, but still he stood, And murmured a name, but he did not stir. Then he said, as he looked at the rich man's door, " That voice, somehow, led me to tliink of her. A CHRISTMAS STORY. 57 XIII. " Supposing — but no — it's a foolish thought. There's no such fortune in store for me." But I called the boy quickly, " This way, my lad, Turn your face to the light, where I can see. I want you to tell me your name," I said. He answered me smiling : " It's ' Deacon or ' Fool,' They call me the first 'cause I never swear, iVnd belong to a class in the Sunday-school. AIV. "They call me the other, just 'cause, sometimes. When some o' the boys, that ain't real bright. Get stuck on their jiapers, I buy 'em out And sell 'em by stayin' out late at night. That's why I'm a-workin' as late as this." " But what is your real name," I asked of him. Before he could answer, the man spoke up, And his voice was husky, his eyes were dim. XV. *' Can you remember, four years ago, A father who loved you, and every night. Read stories to please you and heard your prayers. And made you a monster, big, paper kite ? " "' Why, yes ! " said the boy, '' and I asked him once. If I had a mother, way up in Heaven. He told me, ' No,' but I heard him say, " I wonder if such ones are ever fora-iven.' " 58 LINES ANB RHYMES. XVI. The poor man staggered, as from a blow, For the bands of crape he coukl plainly see. "Not a word to the boy, to night," he said, " He wouldn't be 2)roud of a man like me; He is mine once more, and I feel, somehow, I can work and strive like other men; I'll watch him and guard him until, with pride. His liiDS shall breathe the word ' father ' again. XVII. " You'll see me, to-morrow, a different man, It's a pleasure to work for a noble son; Come, boy, let's go to a lodging house; Good night, sir. God bless you for what you've done." ****** * * To-night, I met them, a happy pair, Well dressed and planning a future bright. For both had a purpose and work to do. Beginning, they told me, with Christmas night. XVIII. From the church, near by, an anthem rose, " Glad tidings, and peace, on earth good-will," I heard him murmur, with trembling voice, "And the prayers of thy servant, Lord ! fulfil ;" 'Twas an earnest prayer, and I said "Amen," I knew he had j)rayed for the boy at his side. " Good night; good fortune attend you," I said, "And keep the good cheer of your Christmas- tide." SPRING SOJVa. 59 SPRING SONG. Oh ! I am a fairy, in garments green, My wings are as light as air, ]\Iy slippers are dainty as e'er were seen, And a magical wand I bear. I hide in the nooks. By the frozen brooks, And coax them to break old Winter's chains ; And his old bones crack. As I drive him back. With his blustering winds, to his own domains. I tease him with showers, by day and night, Until he is glad to go; I laugh when he clutches in wild alTright Ilis glistening robe of snow; I lovingly peep At the flowers asleep. And kiss them to life when the blue birds sing. I am light and gay Through the live-long day, And the happiest child of the year is Spring. 60 LINES AND RHYMES. THE RABBI AND THE PRINCE. VERSIFIED FROM THE TALMUIX A MONARCH sat in serious thought, alone, But little reck'd he of his robe and throne; Naught valuing the glory of control, He sought to solve the future of his soul. " Why should I bow the ])roud, inijxn-ious knee. To mighty powers no mortal C'e can see ? '' So mused he long ana turned this question o'er. Then, with impatient tread, he paced the floor, Till maddened by conflicting trains of thought And speculations vague, which came to naught, With feverish haste he clutched a tasseled cord As desperate hands, in battle, clutch a sword. " Summon Jehoshua," the monarch cried. The white-haired Rabbi soon was at his side. ****** '■■ I bow no more to powers I cannot see; Thy faith and learning shall be naught to me, Unless, before the setting of the sun. Mine eyes behold tlie uncreated one." * * * * * * The Rabbi led him to the open air. The oriental sun with furious glare Sent down its rays, like betims of molten gold. The aged teacher, pointing, said : " Behold." THE RABBI AND THE PRINCE. 61 " I cannot," said the Prince, " my dazzled eyes Eefuse their service, turned upon the skies." ****** " Son of the dust," the Rabbi gently said And bowed, with reverence, his hoary head, "This one creation, thou canst not behold. Though by thy lofty state and pride made bold. IIow canst thou then behold the God of Light, Before whose face these sunbeams are as night ? Thine eyes before this trifling labor fall, Canst gaze on Him who hath created all ? Son of the dust, repentance can atone; Eeturn and worshij) God, who rules alone." 62 LINES AND RHYMES. THE GREEN-ROOM GLASS. I'm only a battered old green-room glass, But I've done my duty for many years, Telling a story to all who pass. Of joy and sadness, of smiles and tears. All ! but my tale is a varied one, For I have seen fond hopes decay; Bright, happy lives that were just begun Saddened by sorrow, grow old and gray. I have seen ladies of wealth and fame. Wearing the rags of a pauper's fate; I have seen others, without a name. Clad in the robes of royal state. Children that prattled, before my face, I have seen grow into great renown; Others, alas! have met deep disgrace. Scorned by companions and shunned by the town. Ah ! but 'tis sad when I see a face Wrinkled and pale, with the flight of years, AVhich I once knew so full of grace; Radiant smiles, where now are tears. Vassal and master, matron and maid, Look at me, smile at me, just the same, Each in a transient garb arranged, Seeking the vanishing bubble — Fame. THE QREEN-ROUM GLASS. 03 Often I hear them cry out in pain. Often I long to bend down and bless, Weary, worn mortals, that strive in vain, Failing where others have found success. Never from me is a thing concealed — Here, before me, they must all confess; Standing alone and with hearts revealed, Donning their smiles as they don their dress. Oh ! to be free from this gas-lit place. Brightened again by the flowers and grass ! Oh ! for Reality's honest face — Weary of sham is the green-room glass. Ott LIJYIJS AND RHYMES. A SEA SONG. I LOVE the sea ! I love the sea ! And the spray from its waves comes kissing me, As I stand on the shore. When the flood tides roar And the white caj^s dance right merril3\ The dear, old waves, from the coral caves. And the sunny strands that the water laves. Come close to my feet. With legends sweet. Of the mighty ocean's domes and naves. The whole day long, they croon a song, And the red-lipped shells the sound prolong. Of a loved one dear. Who is hastening here. On a ship that is swift and staunch and strong. THE QUIET HOUR. (56 THE QUIET HOUR. At sunset, out across the hills, I rode into tlie dying day; The brooks sang low, with tender trills, Tlie birds were silent on my way. The crickets chirped in monotone; The bees were sleei)ing on the hill; The wind swept by with solemn moan; My heart grew sad, my voice was still. Yet, in my breast sw.cet thonglits were born, Unmixed with aught of earth's alloy. And words were faltering and out-worn, That sought to voice my silent joy. The quiet hour of eventide Subdues man's stormy soul within, And pure thoughts through his musings glide Without a trace of soil or sin. But with the joy of high-born thought. There is a lingering touch of 2>ain, A yearning, with sweet suffering fraught. When utterance strives, and strives in vain. But while the sombre shadows slept Upon the hills and o'er the vales. Between the trees the moonbeams crept, xVnd swift illumed the quiet dales. m LINES AND RHY3IES. The silver moonliglit, sifting through The leaves and branches of the trees, On wings of light, around me flew, And mingled with the shifting breeze. Like mist at morn, sad thoughts took flight, The wide world opened like a scroll. And ere the day had turned to night Delight alone filled all my soul. IJY WO-JIAJV'S LAWB. 67 IN NO-MAN'S-LAND. Two shapes were walking, on tlic strand, One starlit night, in no-man's- land. Two shapes that, dnring mortal life. Gave hate for hate, in deadly strife. They met. Swift forth their falchions flew; Each pierced the other, through and through; Yet neither fell. Again they strove For mastery, and madly drove To right and left their falcliions bright; Nor sound, nor cry profaned the night. Through corselet, casque and visor too. As through the air their swift blades flew; Until amazed, they stood aghast. And on the sands their weapons cast. Then laughed they both at mortal strife. The passing dream of earthly life. And clasping each the other's hand, They walk the shades of no-man's land. G8 LINES AND RHYMEkS. SEPTEMBER RE VERY. I can't seem to realize, fully. How quickly the season has flown; I've scarce had a day through the summer. To rest and to be quite alone. I've been yachting and driving and bathing, I know every horse on the track; And I've planned out a beautiful future; I'm engaged to be married to Jack. From the first of July to September, Is not a long courtship I know; But then, if we wait until Christmas, 'Twill be half a twelvemonth, and so, After telling Jack "Yes," on an impulse, I couldn't somehow take it back; And he says we can court all our lifetime. So I'm to be married to Jack. He hasn't a very large fortune, But he's handsome and brimful of life. And he says that his prospects will brighten With me for his own little wife. How little I dreamed when I came here. How settled and staid I'd go back ! Not caring for flirting and dancing. For I'm to be married to Jack. SEPTEMBER HE VERY. 69 I thought, at the first of the season. Of titles and money and style; But the charm which they hold is but trifling, When I think of his bright, tender smile. Ah, me ! when a girl loves her lover, Of happiness there is no lack; My heart is as light as a feather, I'm engaged to be married to Jack. 70 LINEIS AND RHYMES. THE LAST GLADIATOEIAL COMBAT. The scene of conflict was tlie Libyan plain; Honorins, Emperor, sat in })rou(l disdain, Upon liis Ijlazoned throne, half lost in thonght. For death that rased below him carins^ nauffht. The sands lay glistening in the torrid sun. Blood-red, where many a brave life-tide had run. And ere the day credit down the glowing west, A hundred souls had found eternal rest. With flashing swords uplifted in their hands, Two gladiators met upon the sands. Firm friends and fast, yet mortal was their strife, For one, to live, must take the other's life. Their glances met for one swift, fleeting breath. And read this thouglit: "No wounds, but sjieedy death." With valorous swords, they fought both long and well. Till one, with broken sword-bLide, tripped and fell. The hoarse-voiced rabble shouted loudly: "Kill!" The victor turned to learn the Emperor's will. His pleading ej^es beseeching him to spare, But, lost in thought, the monarch gazed in air. THE LAHT OLADIATUJIIAL COMBAT. 71 "Kill! Kill! " the rabble shouted, growing bold. The bright blade gleamed, when loud a voice cried "Hold!" And swift, across those reeking Libyaii sands, A white-haired monk rushed forth, with lifted hands. The multitude, in silence, stood aghast; The monarch from his reverie roused, at last. When brave Telemachus, devoid of fear, Proclainu'd aloud : " The wrath of God is near. ^'Foui- luindred years the Word of God hath taught : 'Thou shalt not kill,' and shall it go for naught! Shall kings a 2)rice of human bloodshed pay. To make, for savage men, a holiday? " Ilonorius, Emperor thougli tliou art, beware! Nor king, nor slave, the wrath of God can dare." Swift o'er the arena twenty warriors trod. And twenty swords struck down the man of God. But through his death his words became a i)Ower To move Ilonorius, every day and hour. Until, at last, the monarch's royal hand. Sent forth an edict o'er the Libyan land. "Thou shalt not kill. The Word of God revere, Thy captive slaves release from bondage drear." Small need of praise from mortal tongue or pen For him who died to save his fellow-men. 72- LIJYBS AND RHYMES. A DREAM OF SUMMER. Out through the summer's golden glow, Across the land, into the west, I rode at sunset, sad and slow, Where the end of the rainbow sinks to rest, Out toward the realms of the setting sun. As the night came down and the day was done. The insects hummed a lullaby. In cozy homes of folded leaves; The birds had ceased to chirp on high, Within their nests, beneath the eaves; The nodding flowers, along the way. Seemed bowing low, to slumber's sway. Adown the path, where arching trees. Clasped hands and kissed, with lips of leaves, I drank the burden of the breeze. The scent of flowers and garnered sheaves. And, over all, the lingering light Of sunbeams and the stars of night. Alas! these dreams of summers past Will drift into our drowsy hours; Too sweet, too Heavenly high to last. But laden with tlie breath of flowers; Within, bright thoughts and memories sweet, AVithout, the snow and blinding sleet. ON THE WAY. 78 ON THE WAY. Soft shadows fall along the wall, That girts the roadway where I run. The waning light foretells the night And swift pursues the retreating sun, I see afar a twinkling star — The herald of a million more, The great waves creep, as half asleep. Along the distant, sandy shore. The world is still, and yet a thrill Of joy intense pervades my soul. While Nature seems to be in dre;ims. As down the gentle slope I roll; The rifted clouds that drift in crowds Along the far horizon's rim, Eeflect the rays of distant days' Last lingering sunlight faint and dim. A sweet wild rose unnoticed grows, Half-hidden in the long, strong grass; Sweet thoughts arise of love-lit eyes — I lean and clutch it as I pass. My love will wear within her hair This sweet memento of the hour; I shall forget the dream; but yet My life has felt its subtle power. 74 LINE^ AND RHY3IES. MISERRIMUS. Tup: down of thistles, swaying on the hreeze. An autumn leaflet, falliiig from tlie trees, A bit of drift-wood, floating down the stream, A subtle fancy, passing in a dreafn. Thus pass our days, and like a deep-drawn sigh The noblest life but lives to say " Good-by." Life! Death! A¥e know not which is best, The day of toil or night's unending rest; Long vistas in our future wo unfold And find, at last, a dream that soon is told. Happy the man whose life is boundless love For that which waits us, in the realms above. Will that time come, when hearts will cease to beat O'er earthly joys ? when Love's first kisses sweet Give no delight ? Ah! then and then alone. Poor weary hearts will cease to sigh and moan; Plunge as we will into the world's wild din. We cannot drown the heartache hid within. FASSIJyG CLOUDS. 75 PASSING CLOUDS. In leafy dales, where song-birds sing Tlieir notes of joy the whole day through, 'Tis sweet to watch the clouds that float Across the bro:;d expanse of blue, And with each cloud let bright hopes rise That comfort you. "What though each cloud is not like snow Fringed round with golden beams of light. To know and feel the sunlit day We needs must pass through shades of night, And something comes, in each dark day, That comforts you. Then let bright clouds cheer up your heart. And put sad, dreary thoughts to flight. And let the dark ones cheer you too. They make the bright ones seem more bright, Thus, life is made one long, sweet dream That comforts you. 76 LINES AND RHYMES. THE TIGER AND THE TWI^N^; A SPX^UEL TO THE LADY OR THE TIGER. For six long years tlie patient literary })ublic of two continents has been treading the maze of ethical discussion and pondering over tlie intrica- cies of psychic formulae, endeavoring to determine by the analogy of mental processes whether a lady or a tiger emerged from a certain, mysterious door, toward which the heroine of the thrilling tale had made a lightning-like gesture. It "will be remembered by those who read the story calmly and seriously, as was befitting such a narrative, that the courtier who had dared to love tlie daughter of his King, entered the arena, at a given signal, and traversed half the distance, in the direction of the twin doors, opposite the throne of the semi-barbaric imperial presence. He then turned, as was the custom, to make his obeisance, but instead of doing so, fixed his eyes upon the trembling princess, believing that her love for liim had led her to discover behind which door crouched a hungry tiger, ready and willing to devour him and behind which stood a waiting and blushing maiden, more than ready and willing to wed him. As was stated in the narrative, the punishments for guilt and the rewards of innocence were com- THE TIGER AND THE TWIN. 77 paratively instantaneous; indeed, so swift was the administration of the decree, tliat before the pris- oner could fully realize his mistake he would he located in the tiger's interior, while, on the other hand, his reward was characterized by the same remarkable celerity, for the instant the waiting maiden stepped into the arena, from a door ojjpo site, a priest with attendants entered to perform the wedding ceremony, and the children treading epithahimic measures circled arouiul the semi- stunned bridegroom so hilariously that he could scarcely collect his senses sufficiently to note how exceedingly epithalamic the measures were. It is not to be wondered at, considering the trepidation with vvhicli he had looked forward to this critical juncture, that his gaze, for the instant, was more penetrating than tender, and it may have been this lack of tenderness which aroused, in the mind of the princess, a question as to whether the courtier might not be more than content to win existence by a fortunate choice, regardless of the maiden's identity. Especial care had always been exercised in the selection of maidens, particular attention having been paid to the appropriateness of the possible union. His manner betrayed nothing but severe cogita- tion as to the justice of turning over to mere chance the decreeing of sudden death or equally sudden marriage. In his hours of imprisonment, while the princess had been impairing her beauty bv the violence of her emotions, he had been 78 LINES AND RHYMES. speculating on tlie 2)rob:il)ilities in favor of his choosing the door to the h-ft. Through many trifling gifts, but more througli liis grace and courtliness, he had managed to win the sympathies of his jailor, and from him had learned that out of forty-seven judgments, in which the semi-harbaric King had resorted to the problematic justice of the lady ami the tiger, thirty-two had chosen the door to the right and been devoured. Certain subjects had secretly entertained a suspicion that even the King's rectitude was not proof against the temptation to put a tiger behind both doors, when a grievance of his own was to be adjudicated, but nothing could be ocularly demonstrated to that elfect, since thirty-two, after making a choice, were practically incapable of making another, and fifteen were amply content to remain devoid of meddling curiosity as to what the other door might conceal. He also learned that, at the last five trials, the tiger had been concealed behind the door to the right. By a system of equalization, or lav/ of probabili- ties, he reasoned that the nsnal sequence of varia- tion pointed toward the door on the left and he had determined upon making that choice. Knowing the intensity of feeling which must have swayed the princess at the moment their eyes met, the ilouI)t which was born in his breast, as to her willingness to see him in the arms of another, for the time usurped supremacy over all his men- tal functions. The impetuosity yf her gesture might betoken THE TIGER AND THE TWIN. 7S) the entirety of an affection Avliieli controlled every libre of her being, lending all its force to the mus- cular dictations, or it might betray the eagerness of a sudden resolve to endure one terrible moment rather than the years of slow torture which his marriage with another would necessarily involve, should she prove unable to outgrow the psychic influence with which the courtier had permeated her entire existence. For an instant, only, he wavered between the dictations of his law of probabilities and the swift mandate of the princess. Even though she should misdirect him, be could die feeling that a devo- tion, sufRciently vigorous to suggest such extreme measures, must contain the elements requisite for continuance beyond an earthly career, and as the days of earth constituted merely a transition period to that state where the aspirations of the soul tran- scend the corporeal attributes, he believed it ad- visable to follow the suggestion which his eye alone had recognized. With this thought in mind, he strode boldly to the door on the right and fling- ing it back u])on its well-oiled hinges beheld — a TIGER. The natural instinct of self-preservation caused him to start back, and immediately following this mental shock came the realization that the prin- cess had sent him to his death, but while these bewildering emotions were warring in his breast, something in the demeanor of the tiger caused him to observe more closely the apparent inten- tions of the beast. The customary spring from 80 LINES AND RHYMES. the couchaut to the rampant attitude had been lacking; the savage roar which had been in the habit of echoing and re-eclioing through the cav- erns and corridors of the amphitlieatre was also missing. The whole bearing of the animal seemed amicable to an amazing degree. One swift, searching glance gave to the courtier the key to the situation, and whispering un Arabic name, under his breatli, to tlie tiger, tlie animal, docile as a kitten, came to him and licked his hand. Another word, again in the Arabic tongue, and the tiger sprawled at his feet, permitting him to place his foot upon his neck. Long years before, in the wilds of an Arabian jungle, a twin brother of the courtier had captured this same tiger, and as playmates they had grown up together. Doubtless the keeper in the door- way beyond was the twin, disguised. The courtier saluted the King, while the multitude rent the air with shouts. Some rejoiced that one so brave and fiiir and young should escape so terrible a fate, while many were maddened by the disappointment of beholding neither a tragedy nor a comedy, but a spectacle in which the component parts of both had been strangely commingled. It was evident that the twin had brought about his brother's deliverance, but surely through the power and influence of the princess, and this proof of her fidelity flushed his cheek with joy. The semi-barbaric King was tossed hither and thither on the waves of indecision. His method of administering justice had miscarried. That THE TiaER ANT) THE TWIN. 81 which had heretofore been determinate and final, now became uncertain and unsatisfying. The courtier had chosen the door Avhich be- tokened guilt, yet guilt had not met with punish- ment. Had lie chosen the other door aiul had the maiden refused to marry, he could not have been more surprised than was he at the amicability of the tiger. He had ordered tlie fiercest beast at- tainable, and had sjiecified that he should fast for three days prior to the exhibition. Hitherto ab- solutely absolute in his authority, the semi-barbaric King allowed the semi in his character to outnias ter the barbaric and resolved that the situation was one which demanded the deliberations and counsel of other minds. Summoning his followers, he chose, from their numljcr, those in whom he believed intuitive perception had reached its ripest perfection, ordered the courtier to be once more incarcerated and led the way to the council cham- ber. In his agitation over the upheaval of his pet theory of poetic justice, the King neglected to appoint a special guardian for the j^risoner, and the princess being older than her younger brother, seized the opportunity of appointing a man whose trustworthiness in underhand matters was jn-o- verbial. The arguments of the counsellors lasted far into the night, and the final verdict was that if the tiger had been tampered with and it should be proven by careful examination that he had been overfed rather than starved, the courtier should be 82 LlJymS AND RHYMES. compelled to j^ass through the ordeal of judicial choice again. If, on the contrary, the orders of the King had been obeyed, the comeliest maiden in the kingdom should be given him to wed. Shortly after sunrise on the following morning the ringing of bells and the voices of the heralds gave notice to the patrons of the arena that some one of their number had ignored the imperial mandate and fed the tiger, and that on the fol- lowing clay the fiercest beast ever placed in cap- tivity would be behind one of the twin doors, while behind the other should stand a maiden, who was beloved, as all the kingdom knew, by the younger brother of the princess and who had long since showed by word and sign that the prospec- tively imperial affection was not distasteful to her. The trustworthiness of the guardian selected by the princess remained intact, and by a simple process of secret communication it was arranged that the young prince should disguise himself as the courtier and choosing the door to the left meet the woman of his choice and be there and then wed according to the usual rites. Being the daughter of a semi-barbaric father, of course tlie princess possessed certain component jjarts which were barbaric in character, yet it was not entirely the possession of these elements which brought about the stirring incidents of the second trial. At the usual signal, a youth, to all appearance the courtier, advanced to the centre of the arena, sa- luted the King and stepping lightly to the door THE TIGER AND THE TWIN. 83 on the left, threw it open and clusped close to his breiist the woman lie adored. From anotlier door a priest with attendants a})- peared and the marriage was solemnized, after which the children strewed flowers to the foot of the throne npon which sat the King, wrapped in a cloud of thought as to whether or not some subtle jiower beyond his control watched over and pro- tected the youth who had thus miraculously es- caped a second time. As the wedding procession drew near, however, the sharp eyes of the King pierced the disguise of the prince and recognized the son. Semi-barbaric rage, more than any other, resorts to excess when roused to its full completeness, and so it came about that the King, attired in his robes of state, rushed to the centre of the arena and uttered an oath of vengeance upon all who had conspired to overthrow his judicial system. Knowing that the prince was lacking in courage and doubting if there had been any chance in his choice of doors, the King believed that no tiger had been provided. Im2)elled by tiiis idea and fatally eager to determine the fact, he flcAv to the door on the right, flung it open and was speedily devoured. The prince, thus becoming king, ele- vated the courtier to a rank befitting his valor and the depth of his devotion, and his marriage with the princess was consummated with as much hilar- ity as was consistent, considering the proximity and p'eci'.liarity of a demise so eminently semi-bar- baric. 84 LINES AND RHYMES. Thus, after six years of anxious solicitude, the great reading public le.irns, that in the im})artial justification of this single instance, Jiot only did the lady emerge from the hidden recesses but the lady and two tigers, one tame and the other not so much so. IN LONDON TOW J£R. 85 m LONDON TOWEPi. [In an old worm-eaten chest, tlie propei'ty of a loflger named AVil- liam Willston, who died in a London tenement, was found tlie MS. of the (ale wliieh follows. AVhet'aer it is a true recital of nn unreeordeil escape, or whether it is fnim the imajifiiiation (jf some pariia!!y iiisani' p.M-son, will prob- alily never be known, as all tr.ict^s are lo -.t beyond the time of Ber tliold Willston, an inn-keeper and great grandfather of the deceased lodger. To him the possession of the old chest has been traced. The condition of the MS., the te.Yture of the pap r, the appearance of the ink, which is but dimly seen on the paper, and the mention of the broken sword wilh the jeweled hilt, leadt(Uhe belii^f that the MS. is certainly of great age, and ihat it belongs to the period wlu!n such imprisonments were not unusual.] I, Williiim AVortliington, believing that I am about to die, jiray to Heaven for strength to tell a tale of wrong and suffering. I know not the year in which I am living. I dare not ask. I only pray for strength to finish, for my wife and chil- dren, if they still live, the story of my Avoes. The shock of freedom upon my broken constitution is ])roving too great, and I feel that death is near. I was a warder in the Tower of London. For twenty years I had been faithful to my trust, and had lived according to the dictations of an honest heart. Every prisoner jilaced under my surveillance for twenty years had been tried, judged and seii- tenced l)y my inner consciousness; and as my in- tuitions led me, so were they treated, though I 86 LINE^ AND liHY3IES. never violated a law. It is witliin the poAver of a warder to add greatly to a prisoner's comfort and welfare, though he may grant no illegal freedom. Books, pipes, writing materials and games were speedily -forthcoming for those whom I believed more sinned against than sinning. It mattered not to me whether the accused was a duke or an earl in the turret chambers, or a peasant in the dungeon. By this inner tribunal of my own, I judged that the Duke of Elton had been a traitor to his king, and from my hands he received no favors beyond the requirements of the law. I little dreamed that so great a personage would wreak vengeance upon a vassal, so far below him, yet his hirelings gave oatli, months after his release, that during a time wlien the utmost watchfulness had been enjoined \\\^on the warders I was found asleep at my post. During that critical period the penalty was death. That very day I had walked far into the suburbs of London, on leave of absence to visit my family, and had returned to take my usual watch from nine at night until nine on the following morn- ing. I was weary and travel-stained, which told against me, but as there is a just God in Heaven, I did not sleep on my post, neither that night nor any night during my years of service. A warder had once slept and allowed the escape of political prisoners. He was accused of complicity, and the death penalty had been instituted. tif LONDON TO]VER. 87 T could prove nothing. I luid paced tlie corri- d()r,s through tlie uight, but the prisoners liad slept . 1'""', ;" ,k" ■-.:i;ihl'M|.':"'^"''".-l|"'' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 112 517 9 % 3.