o. 
 
 aiBFtART OF CONGRESS, 
 
 ^''''P :-- fwisM I". .- 
 
 ;! UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 
 
 '01 
 
THE LOVER'S REVENGE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 MISS J. THIGPEN, 
 
 OF CLINTON, GA. 
 
 
 MACON, GEORGIA: 
 J. W. BURKE & CO. PUBLISHERS. 
 
 1876. 
 
-J5 3o]1 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1876, by 
 
 J. W. BURKE & CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
Affectionately Inscriber 
 to my beloved 
 
 FATHER AND MOTHER 
 
 BY THEIR 
 
 LOVING DAUGHTER. 
 
NOTE BY THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
 The fair authoress who gives this delightful volume to the public, is 
 not unknown to fame as a poetess. The readers of the Home Circle, 
 published at Nashville before the war, will remember some beautiful 
 poetry that appeared over the signature of "Jessie Linn," the nom de 
 phune of Miss Thigpen. These articles were highly esteemed, and 
 won golden opinions for the young writer. We give her Poems to the 
 world believing they will be appreciated by all lovers of genuine poetry. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 THE LOVER'S REVENGE, . 9 
 
 NOVEMBER, 17 
 
 SPRING, 18 
 
 SUNSET HILL,. 19 
 
 THE YOUNG POET, . 23 
 
 A LAST FAREWELL, 27 
 
 THE VICTIM, 29 
 
 THE POET, 31 
 
 THE STRENGTH OF WEAKNESS, . . . • • 32 
 
 CONTRASTED PICTURES, 33 
 
 FAIR BUT FALSE, 34 
 
 AGAIN, ' 35 
 
 THE TEMPTATION, 36 
 
 THE PASSOVER OF DEATH, 39 
 
 THE MOTHER OF SISERA, 41 
 
 THE SACRIFICE, 43 
 
 RIZPAH, 47 
 
 THE LADY OF SHUNEM, 51 
 
 ISRAEL'S REFUGE, 55 
 
 ELIAB, 56 
 
 EFFICACY OF PRAYER, 57 
 
 THE HEAVENLY HOME, 59 
 
 THE SINKING DISCIPLE, 60 
 
 FOLLOW THOU ME, 61 
 
 PEACE, • • . . . 63 
 
 O, HIGH AND LOFTY ONE, 65 
 
 WITH THEE, 66 
 
 PSALM XXVIL: i, 6, 67 
 
 PSALM LXIIL, 68 
 
 PSALM XCVL, 69 
 
 GOD'S OMNIPRESENCE— Psalm cxxxix 71 
 
 PSALM CXLIIL, 72 
 
 PSALM CXLIX., 73 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 THE LAST OF HIS RACE, 74 
 
 THE OFFICER'S DREAM, 83 
 
 TH MAIDEN'S CHOICE, . . .^ 84 
 
 "HE DOETH ALL THINGS WLL," 86 
 
 CARE FOR YOUR MINISTER, 89 
 
 TO A YOUNG MISSIONARY, 91 
 
 THE EARLY CALLED, 93 
 
 MEMORIES, 94 
 
 REFLECTIONS OF A DISENCHANTED BELLE, ... 96 
 
 A REPLY, 97 
 
 A DREAM, 98 
 
 THE REJECTED, 99 
 
 PRESENTIMENT, 100 
 
 TO , 100 
 
 EARTH NOT OUR REST, loi 
 
 FROM THAT HIGH WORLD, 102 
 
 LINES FOR AN ALBUM, 105 
 
 VAIN GIRL, FAREWELL ! 106 
 
 SUNSHINE, 107 
 
 NIGHT, 108 
 
 MORNING, 109 
 
 A MORNING IN SPRING, no 
 
 TO A DISTINGUISHED INFIDEL, in 
 
 DEATH OF COLONEL PEYTON COLQUITT, ..... 112 
 
 AFTER THE SURRENDER, 114 
 
 TO MRS. M. M , 115 
 
 farewell' TO A FRIEND, 116 
 
 IN MEMORIAM— MRS. M. M , 117 
 
 IN MEMORIAM— Minnie Dean, 118 
 
 THE STREAM OF XIFE, 119 
 
 THE TWO CROWNS, . 123 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK, 125 
 
 SPIRITUAL VOYAGE, 128 
 
 FANCIFUL ORIGIN OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM, .... 130 
 
 THE YEARS, I33 
 
 LIFE AND THE BOY, 135 
 
 THE COUSINS, 137 
 
THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 
 
 Young the maiden was and fair, 
 With azure eyes and golden hair, 
 Lips of coral, fresh and bright. 
 Cheek and brow of purest white, 
 Colored with as soft a glow 
 As light of sunset clouds on snow. 
 
 In her bridal robes arrayed. 
 
 Stood that fair and gentle maid. 
 
 Woman's love and woman's trust 
 
 Plighting to a child of dust. 
 
 Yet was his a noble form. 
 
 And his heart was pure and warm, 
 
 And as full of love and truth 
 
 As ever throbbed in breast of youth. 
 
 Tender looks were on them bent, 
 Smiles and tears together blent. 
 While the sacred vows were spoken 
 Which till death might not be broken. 
 
 When the heart has found its mate, 
 And accepts its happy fate, 
 Hand-in-hand, for weal or woe, 
 Through life's checkered ways to go, 
 With their joys and sorrows blent. 
 With united purpose bent 
 Lovingly to share each duty, 
 Is it not a scene of beauty? 
 
 Wherefore, then, amid the joy, 
 Should prophetic fears annoy? 
 Wherefore should the tears unbidden 
 Rush too swiftly to be hidden? 
 
10 THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 
 
 Ah ! I knew, I knew full well 
 That the winecups's fatal spell, 
 Though it had not strongly bound him, 
 Had its glamour thrown around him. 
 
 In that crowd a sufferer stood. 
 Coldly calm, in cynic mood, 
 Hiding, in his bleeding heart. 
 Slighted love's distracting smart. 
 Never nobler youth than he 
 Bowed at Beauty's shrine the knee; 
 And I sorrowed for the grief 
 That I knew disdained relief. 
 
 Earnest words of gratulation. 
 Prayers from hearts all agitation, 
 And the solemn scene was ended, 
 With its lights and shadows blended. 
 But, another stream of being, 
 To the eye of the All-seeing, 
 Had begun its widening way 
 To the great, Eternal sea. 
 
 When the festal scene was over. 
 Came the disappointed lover 
 To my side, and freely spoke^ 
 Told me that his heart was broke; 
 That the glory which had shone 
 O'er his future, now was gone. 
 Never lofty aspiration, 
 Never joyous hope's elation. 
 Could arouse his palsied will j 
 Could his frozen bosom thrilL 
 Then I told him, as was fit. 
 Many on that rock had split,. 
 Loving blindly, holding fast 
 Forms of faith, in falsehood casty 
 By romantic dreamiers vain. 
 Held with danger, lost with gaiiti. 
 For I knew that time can heal 
 Deepest wound that love can feel j 
 But one wrong step, rashly taken,, 
 Lifelong miseiy can awaken. 
 
 In my hand a scroll he placed', 
 
 On which he som;e lines had traced t 
 
THE LOVER'S REVENGE. U 
 
 For young Walter v/as a poet, 
 Though, as yet, he did not know it. 
 Then we parted, when I spread 
 Wide the leaf, and sadly read : 
 
 "O maiden of the trusting heart ! 
 Mine eyes are dim for thee ; 
 Thy peace, preparing to depart. 
 With outspread wings, I see. 
 
 "And on that altar, where thy love 
 A holy offering lies; 
 A cloud has fallen from above, 
 And veiled it for the skies, 
 
 "Thy star of earthly hope has set— 
 
 The deep its orb enshrouds. 
 
 Although its radiance lingers yet 
 
 Upon the gathering clouds. 
 
 "Thine eye is on that lingering light, 
 Thy thought is all of joy, 
 While on thy path descends the blight 
 Its verdure to destroy. 
 
 "Oh ! there's a seal upon thy doom 
 Which death alone can break; 
 Soon, soon, thou wilt the lonely tomb 
 As " hidden treasure " seek!" 
 
 " Prophet false ! " I quickly said, 
 "Love not thus may be betrayed." 
 
 But the dark foreboding still 
 
 Baffled my opposing Mall ; 
 
 And its shadow, on my heart 
 
 Fell, and would not thence depart. 
 
 Smoothly, for a season, flowed 
 Life's fair current, brightly glowed 
 O'er them fortune's rising sun ; 
 Happiness seemed fairly won. 
 Then there came a whispered wordy 
 Half suppressed but widely heard. 
 That a noble man was falling ; 
 And I knew he was not calling 
 
12 THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 
 
 On the Strong for strength, but still 
 Trusting to his own weak will. 
 
 Paler grew the wife's fair cheek, 
 
 Bvit she did not, would not seek 
 
 Human sympathy, or show 
 
 To the world her cause of woe. 
 
 But ere long himself revealed, 
 
 What her love and pride concealed, 
 
 That her idol had descended 
 
 From his throne, where stars attended, 
 
 And to ruin swift was rushing. 
 
 Madly, blindly and unblushing. 
 
 I was out one day in spring, 
 Birds made happy music ring — 
 Birds of various note and plume ; 
 And the earth was flushed with bloom. 
 
 Such a day as makes the heart 
 
 With new energy to start ; 
 
 Rouses feelings that involve ^ 
 
 Hopes renewed and fresh resolve. 
 
 While I stood among the flowers, 
 Came that wayward friend of ours, 
 Walter Manly, gay and beaming. 
 But I marked a subtle seeming, 
 Like a mask, upon that brow, 
 Ever open until now. 
 
 " Tidings, friend ?" " Fair news," he said, 
 
 " My rival is as good as dead : 
 In wild delirium, now, he lies. 
 And calls for help, but none replies." 
 
 " Walter, this I will not hear : 
 Fit your language to my ear." 
 
 " Well, then, I have waited long, 
 For the righting of a wrong ; 
 I could bear it were't my own. 
 But I suffered not alone ; 
 She, the holy angel, driven 
 From the heart she made her heaven^ 
 Priceless love all unrequited. 
 And her life in spring-time blighted, 
 Her's the wrong, for vengeance calling, 
 And I joy to see it falling." 
 
THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 13 
 
 " O, deceitful human heart ! 
 
 How it plays its subtle part ! 
 
 Trust, oh ! trust it not, my friend, 
 
 Its counsels ever selfward tend. 
 
 Think you, would such dark redress 
 
 As death of love bring happiness ?" 
 " Should she love where love is shame ? " 
 " Love hopes, and long delays to blame." 
 " Heavenly justice sets her free ; 
 
 And her recompense will be 
 
 A worthier love and nobler life 
 
 When she is made my honored wife." 
 
 " Walter, first, you do not know 
 
 That her strength could stand the blow ; 
 
 If it should, she might remain 
 
 Too wary e'er to trust again. 
 
 Hear the counsel of a friend ; 
 
 Let this dream of madness end ; 
 
 Far above your present view 
 
 Lies the path you should pursue." 
 " Point it out ; I greatly need 
 
 Some skillful hand my soul to lead." 
 " There is but one unerring guide, — 
 
 The spirit of the Crucified." 
 " I know him not — I sought in vain 
 
 That wondrous knowledge to obtain." 
 " Not sought aright ; He never spurns 
 
 The eai-nest soul to Him that turns ; 
 
 That humbly bends the suppliant knee, 
 
 And longs from self and sin to flee." 
 " Mystery all ! You do not show 
 
 Clearly how, but this I know ; 
 
 If ever man from self is freed, 
 
 Power divine must do the deed. 
 
 Briefly now, my duty paint," 
 *"Raise the fallen, cheer the faint;' 
 
 Think no more of wrong and blight ; 
 
 Deem not you have lost a right ; 
 
 But that sad mistake has been. 
 
 Which the future must redeem." 
 " Many thanks," and, bowing low. 
 
 Silently he tuz-ned to go ; 
 
 And I prayed that harvest fair 
 
 The seed I'd sown might early bear. 
 
14 THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 
 
 Soon to foreign lands I went ; 
 Pleasant years in travel spent ; 
 Seldom hearing from my home : — • 
 Once, alone, did tidings come 
 Of that gentle, suffering wife, 
 And her darkly clouded life. 
 Sad the tidings — he she loved 
 Recreant to his vows had proved ; 
 In the drunkard's maddening bowl. 
 Quenched the brightness of his soul, 
 He, the gallant, gifted youth, 
 Once so full of love and truth. 
 From his former self estranged, 
 Now unto a fiend was changed ; 
 And the life he should have cherished 
 By his fury would have perished, 
 But that his unsteady hand 
 Could not guide the fatal brand. 
 
 Once, again, among the flowers, 
 Mantling o'er my own fair bowers, 
 On a pleasant eve in May, 
 I wandered, happy, light and gay; 
 Soon, a footstep that I knew. 
 Brought my wayward friend to viev/, 
 Who, on graceful knee low-bended, 
 Kissed the hand I had extended. 
 
 In the glad and cordial greeting 
 Of long parted friends at meeting, 
 Midst his frank and boyish glee, 
 For awhile I did not see 
 That a wondrous light and grace 
 Played upon young Walter's face. 
 But I soon perceived the beaming 
 Light was not a ti-ansient gleaming. 
 But a rainbow on the spray 
 Of a hidden fount at play. 
 Far within his soul's recess — 
 Living fount of happiness. 
 
 Then he told how the word 
 I had spoke his soul had stirred ; 
 With a holier aim inspired, 
 With a stronger purpose fired ; 
 And that by divine assistance, 
 
THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 15 
 
 And unflinching self-resistance, 
 He had found that nobler way 
 Which, I said, above him lay. 
 
 Then I asked, without a fear, 
 Of the friend, to both so dear. 
 
 "She is happy — he restored 
 To the manhood once ignored ; 
 More than that — far higher lifted. 
 With sustaining grace Heaven-gifted, 
 Both, as friends, I hold in store, 
 He no less and she no more; 
 And we three together now 
 At our Saviour's altar bow." 
 
 How my heart was thrilled with joy! 
 ' Twas a bliss without alloy, 
 "Glorious news! O Walter tell. 
 Whence and how this miracle?" 
 
 "Whence it came, you know full well; 
 How 'twas wrought, I cannot tell : 
 But, whereas I once was blind, 
 Now I see; and, seeing, find 
 That in man lies not the skill 
 To direct his erring will. 
 Once, through darkly-tangled maze, 
 I was treading devious ways ; 
 Hidden pitfalls lay before me. 
 Gloomy clouds were gathering o'er me; 
 Still, to keep the right I tried. 
 But from that path I wandered wide. 
 
 While all fear of danger scorning, 
 Kindly came a voice of warning — 
 Warning of the pitfalls near; 
 Bidding me myself to fear. 
 It showed the path to light that led. 
 And, 'through the tangled maze,' it said, 
 'There is but one unerring guide — 
 The Spirit of the Crucified,' 
 
 " That gracious Guide I sought and found ; 
 And now, with joy, I'm Heavenward bound. 
 
16 THE LOVER'S REVENGE. 
 
 But why go on ! You know the rest : 
 There is no soul that Christ has blessed 
 But, in its new-found happiness, 
 With all the world would share its bliss ! 
 
 ' But first the Spirit bade me go 
 To him whom I had called my foe. 
 And I obeyed with loving zeal ; 
 And he, surprised that I should feel 
 Concern for one so fallen, or stretch 
 My hand, to save so lost a wretch, 
 Affected, e'en to tears, received 
 My words, and in their truth believed, 
 
 'First, the redeeming pledge he signed; 
 Then, higher, by degrees he climbed. 
 Till sin's dark spell that bound him broke, 
 And in God's light his spirit woke, 
 
 ' Rejoicing now in boundless bliss, 
 I cannot speak my happiness! 
 It is as if a sea of love 
 Were poured from the glad heavens above. 
 And I, upon its waters clear, 
 Join hands with millions floating there!" 
 
NOVEMBER. 
 
 The Autumn glory lingers 
 
 On sky and forest yet, 
 As hope's fair light illumes the heart 
 
 Whose sun of joy has set. 
 
 It bodes no glad fruition 
 
 As Summer's golden day ; 
 But 'tis a gleam from heaven that lends 
 
 Enchantment to decay. 
 
 'Tis like an angel standing 
 
 'Mid desolation's track, 
 And saying, " In the world of light 
 
 I'll give your treasures back." 
 
 I walk the gorgeous forest, 
 And think of trophied halls, 
 
 Where banners of a thousand hosts 
 Adorn the blazoned walls ; 
 
 Of stately old cathedrals. 
 
 With pillared aisle and dome 
 
 Made glorious by the mellow light 
 Through pictured windows thrown; 
 
 Of ruddy flames yet burning 
 O'er Summer's funeral pyre ; 
 
 Of him who 'walked the mount of God 
 Amid the stones of fire.'* 
 
 And glorious feelings thrill me, 
 
 Unearthly in their power. 
 As if the light of other worlds 
 
 Fell round in golden shower ; 
 
 As if the way were open. 
 
 So oft by angels trod. 
 And I were near the gate of Heaven, 
 
 And felt the smile of God. 
 
 *Eze., 28, 14. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Earth has risen from her slumbers, 
 Fresh and fair in morning light, 
 
 Throbbing with new vigor, nourished 
 By the restful winter's night. 
 
 She is culling, for her vesture, 
 Finest fabrics, tenderest hues ; 
 
 She is sprinkled with sweet odors, 
 And has bathed in morning dews. 
 
 For the sun, her lover, cometh, 
 From his journey far away ; 
 
 And his ardent missives tell her 
 He is nearing day by day. 
 
 Ah ! her beauteous cheek is flushing. 
 And her heart beats quicker still ; 
 
 For she feels his eye upon her. 
 And its beams her pulses thrill. , 
 
 Lovely in her soft robes floating 
 Round her form of wondrous grace 
 
 Lovely in her tints of beauty, 
 
 And the smile that lights her face ; 
 
 On the soft blue ether resting, 
 V/ith the bending heavens above. 
 
 As a bride, in sweet expectance, 
 She av/aits her coming love. 
 
SUNSET HILL. 
 
 Let us walk, my love ! This evening cahn 
 
 Brings the feehng of youth to my heart once more; 
 
 There's a quickening thrill in the light, and a b?lm 
 In the breeze, that recall the days of yore. 
 
 But throve' around thee some drapery light, 
 For the air of the evening is growing cool ; 
 
 And needful in age is the sliielding care 
 
 That we spurned in youtli, when the pulse was full. 
 
 This path that leads to the Sunset Hill— 
 
 'Tv\-as our fa\-orite walk in the d:-i)'S gone by — 
 
 On its easy slope ^\■e may rc-st at ^\■ill, 
 And enjoy the pleasui'cs (A ear and eye. 
 
 Let us linger here on the Ijridge awhile, 
 For a fairer scene 'twill be hard to fmd ; 
 
 And dearer to us than its bc"auty's smile. 
 
 Is the charm of the mem'ries it brings to mind. 
 
 'Tv;'as a day like tliis — I rcmcml'er itv.'ell, 
 Though it lies in the distance of fifty years — 
 
 Such a spirit-glory o'er nature iell. 
 
 Like a tiile i_)f loxe from tiie heavenly sviheres. 
 
 We v.-ere revelling then in tlic rosy light 
 Of vouth, and "in love's enchanted land, 
 
 With the perfect trust that is born of truth, 
 Were i)lissTuli) wandering hand-indiand. 
 
 Down there, wlicre the map'es arc all aflame, 
 Wth the crims^ju leaves I crowned your brow ; 
 
 Anci I A\-;s;ieil for a throne or a gloi'ious n^me, 
 ^^'il]l a l:onrii.'e proud at vour feet to l)o\v. 
 
20 SUNSET HILL. 
 
 But when, 'neath the " roseate canopy," 
 
 On the poet's hint* I told my love, 
 The radiant flush on your cheek and brow 
 
 I marked with a joy all words above. 
 
 It was not, I fancied, a blush of shame — 
 In a love like ours it could have no part, 
 
 But the perfect flower of a happy hope 
 
 Whose bud had lain folded within your heart. 
 
 Then, with hands united, we climbed the slope. 
 And ever our course has been upward still ; 
 
 And when life's journey is ended at last 
 
 May we take our flight from the ' Sunset Hill! ' 
 
 Come on, for the shadows are lengthening fast, 
 
 Though they dim not the glory above and around; 
 
 Our footsteps are stirring dead leaves of the past, 
 But pleasant though sad is the rustling sound. 
 
 Methinks the ascent is more toilsome now 
 Than it used to be, and I really feel 
 
 A pleasure at seeing the half-way seat, 
 For weariness o'er me begins to steal. 
 
 Yes, both are weary. How short the time 
 Since you had the step of the wild gazelle, 
 
 And I had a vigor of heart and limb 
 No toil could weary nor danger quell ! 
 
 Too soon does the rosy cheek grow pale, 
 And the light of the loving eye grow dim ! 
 
 Too soon do the springs of enjoyment fail, 
 And the vigor depart from heart and limb ! 
 
 We are nearing now that shadowy land 
 
 Where the angel of death is hovering ever; 
 
 But dearer to each is the tender band 
 
 Which strongest seems when about to sever. 
 
 Each morn I wake with a trembling thrill 
 Of anxious love till I hear thee breathe, 
 
 Then I thank my God, thou art with me still, 
 To wander awhile in the paths beneath. 
 
 *Beneath yon crimson tree. 
 
 Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame. 
 Nor mark, within its roseate canopy. 
 
 Her blush of maiden shame. Bryant. 
 
SUNSET HILL. 21 
 
 Well, on to the summit — we're rested now, 
 
 And the smi is already begining to wrap. 
 Around him the drapery of his couch — 
 
 Let's go and wish him a pleasant nap. 
 
 Yes, here, by the mercy of God, again. 
 
 In the sunset of life, Ave are sitting once more 
 
 On the dear old seat that is half a shrine, 
 So hallowed by golden hours of yore. 
 
 The cloud-pictures even which here we have seen, 
 Though their perishing glories have faded away. 
 
 Still linger in mem'ry, as dreams of the night, 
 
 Though forgotten, will fill us with pleasure all day. 
 
 But fairer and holier views than these 
 
 Have blessed us while sitting contemplative here ; 
 
 Through the glass of faith, to the soul serene, 
 How oft has the vision of Heaven been clear ! 
 
 Look yonder, my love ! There's a city of gold ! 
 
 See its palaces, minarets, towers and domes ! 
 They suggest to my fancy the City above. 
 
 Where the Lord is preparing our lasting homes. 
 
 Then thought went up on the wings of faith, 
 
 And their converse assumed a higher tone ; 
 They spoke of the spirit's hopes and fears. 
 
 And the comforts that flow from the heavenly throne; 
 
 Of the mystic voyage they soon must take. 
 
 Of the mournful parting so near at hand ; 
 And they prayed, while standing upon the shore, 
 
 That in one same boat they might leave the land. 
 
 Then silence fell over the peaceful scene, 
 
 And the city of palaces melted away ; 
 The sun went down in a sea of gold, 
 
 And still they sat in the twilight gray. 
 
 A beautiful child, with noiseless feet, 
 
 There found them, still sitting beneath the beach; 
 
 Her cheek^on his shoulder, her hand in his, 
 And a peaceful smile on the lips of each. 
 
22 SUNSET HILL. 
 
 " Grandmother, wake up ! O grandfather ! come ! 
 It is cool up here, and you're staying too late! 
 We've a fire like v/inter, so warm and bright — 
 Tea's ready, and father and mother wait ! " 
 
 She patted the hands, that so lovingly twined. 
 She looked up in the faces so calm to see ; 
 
 She fondly and tenderly murmured their names, 
 And they cheerfully rose and went down to tea. 
 
THE YOUNG POET. 
 
 Where Nature, in her holiest mood, 
 Adoring, dwelt in solitude ; 
 Where earth and sky a temple seemed, 
 And fadeless the Shekina gleamed : 
 
 There dwelt a youth, whose lofty soul 
 Beyond the stars had fixed its goal; 
 Whose heart was free from low desire ; 
 Whose, lips were touched with heavenly fire. 
 
 That wonderous power to him was given. 
 That holy gift whose source is heaven, 
 The power through w^ords to sway the heart, 
 And glorious aims and hopes impart. 
 
 And blissful dreams and visions bright 
 
 Made all his pathway glow with light; 
 
 And words of praise, sincere and strong 
 
 Gladdened him as he passed along 
 
 ? 
 
 Life was, to that so-gifted boy, 
 
 A cup of pure, unmingled joy ; 
 
 And while, with eager zest he quaffed, 
 
 He blessed the hand that gave the draught. 
 
 His nature, simple, high and true, 
 No dark distrust of others knew ; 
 His heart, in boundless love went forth, 
 And, in its grasp, embraced the earth. 
 
 Not breathing, thinking life, alone, 
 To him, was kindred to his own ; 
 Where'er the trace of beauty dwelt, 
 The universal soul he felt. 
 
 When leaves were green on summer trees, 
 And lightly danced amid the breeze ; 
 Or when, with gold and crimson hued, 
 They decked with pomp the solitude; 
 
24 THE YOUNG POET. 
 
 Or when, with rusthng sound they fell, 
 And thickly lay o'er hill and dell, _ 
 And from the dust with mournful sigh, 
 Answered the wind that passed them by, 
 
 He loved the woods. Fair Nature's face 
 Was dear to him in every place ; 
 But most he felt her presence there, 
 When none was near his bliss to share. 
 
 In form, in motion, color, sound 
 Exhaustless depths of joy he found ; 
 And thus his heart's wild passions slept, 
 And thus his soul its whiteness kept. 
 
 A child of nature, near to God, 
 
 A beauteous world in peace he trod, 
 
 Nor knew its very air was rife 
 
 To other ears, with sounds of strife. 
 
 That youthful poet loved his lyre. 
 And o'er its chords, in waves of fire. 
 He poured his soul, till far and wide 
 The spirit-glory rolled its tide. 
 
 He loved it — not because, alone, 
 It knew so well his spirit's tone ; 
 But that congenial hearts he found 
 To his were by its influence bound. 
 
 Oft on the mount of vision fair 
 He sat and breathed its holy air, 
 And reveled, with intense delight, ^ 
 In scenes had blessed an angel's sight. 
 
 Then with an ardent zeal he wrought, 
 That, fixed in hues of fadeless thought, 
 The visions might not pass away, 
 But joy to other minds convey. 
 
 One darling theme possessed his soul. 
 And fancy's wing, that spurned control, 
 Brought from her boundless regions fair 
 Treasures of ocean, earth and air, 
 
THE YOUNG POET. 25 
 
 Wherewith he clothed, in robes of light, 
 The forms of truth whose naked might, 
 Perchance, had struck the observer's eye 
 With sense too strong of majesty. 
 
 Each night its inspiration brought ; 
 Each morn, with zeal renewed, he wrought, 
 And tireless traced, with burning pen. 
 Such thoughts as thrill the souls of men. 
 
 'Twas not a tale of high emprize. 
 Of knightly deeds 'neath distant skies ; 
 No trumpet's clang its music made, 
 No banners on its breezes played; 
 
 Nor glowing dreams of fairy land 
 Engaged the minstrel's heart or hand ; 
 Nor imrequited love he sang. 
 Nor hopes that on earth's promise hang. 
 
 The mystery of that life sublime 
 That lies above the realm of time ; 
 The soul's high birth, its nature high, 
 Its boundless hopes and destiny — 
 
 Such were the themes his soul inspired. 
 And burning thoughts his pages fired; 
 While peace and truth and faith and love 
 His world allied to that above. 
 
 He labored long — at length 'twas done; 
 The visions faded and were gone; 
 The glory round him ceased to play; 
 The inspiration died away. 
 
 As from the ark, with trusting love. 
 The patriarch sent his lonely dove, 
 And waited till his calm suspense 
 In silence gi-ew to hope intense; 
 
 Even so with fond and trusting heart 
 The poet saw his dove depart. 
 And glorious hopes to her did cling, 
 The pure of heart the bright of wing. 
 
26 THE YOUNG POET. 
 
 But, as the raven wandered wide, 
 Above the dark and shoreless tide 
 And brought no leaf of promise back — 
 No peace-branch from her stormy track ; 
 
 So to the poet came no voice, 
 To bid his waiting soul rejoice, 
 To tell him that his wandering bird 
 Met answering love or kindly word. 
 
 Yet on his heart no shadow fell, 
 No dark foreboding cast its spell, 
 Till suddenly the tidings came, 
 Which as an arrow pierced his frame. 
 
 The bright creation of his mind, 
 The form a heavenly soul -enshrined, 
 By critic's hand consigned to death, 
 Had meekly breathed its final breath. 
 
 Ah, woe for him! the practiced hand 
 That hurled the shaft might none withstand 
 The point was wet with precious gore. 
 And now a two-fold death it bore. 
 
 So unexpected came the blow. 
 So true of aim th' undreaded foe. 
 The yielding victim bowed his head, 
 As grass beneath an army's tread. 
 
 No more his broken lyre he strung, 
 No more his songs of beauty sung. 
 So rudely freed from earthly ties 
 His spirit sought his native skies. 
 
 In the deep shadow of the dell, 
 Beneath the trees he loved so well, 
 In his unspotted youth he slept. 
 And early flowers his vigils kept. 
 
A LAST FAREWELL. 
 
 How shall I speak of thee! 
 
 How think of thee, upon whose faded brow 
 
 The glorious light of immortality- 
 Is kindling even now ! 
 
 Not as of those who still, 
 
 Mid earth's gay haunts, with joyous footsteps tread; 
 My heart is checked with strange and sudden thrill, 
 
 As near the awful dead. 
 
 With solemn step and slow, 
 
 I see thee walk beside the rushing river ; 
 While in the cold damp winds that o'er it blow 
 
 Thy wasted form doth shiver. 
 
 But not in darkness there. 
 
 And not in loneliness thou tread'st the vale ; 
 For light fx-om heaven illumes the chilly air, 
 
 And shadows flee and fail. 
 
 And shinmg forms, unseen 
 
 By us, are lingering near to take thy hand. 
 When these of earth, on whom thou still dost lean, 
 
 Must leave thee on the strand. 
 
 What is it now to thee 
 
 That earth's dear sounds are fading on thy ear ! 
 That all its glories and its pleasures flee, 
 
 While heaven is drawing near ! 
 
 Thy ear hath caught the sound 
 
 Of sweeter music than it heard of yore ; 
 
 Thou restest in a holy calm profound. 
 Thy soul knew not before. 
 
 Darkly the waters roll, 
 
 And wide and deep the stream before thee lies; 
 But thou, with fearless and unshrinking soul, 
 
 Look'st on with steadfast eyes. 
 
28 A LAST FAREWELL. 
 
 There hangs before thy view, 
 
 Upon the farther side of that broad stream, 
 The awful curtain that divides the true 
 
 From that which doth but seem. 
 
 And thou art waiting now 
 
 Only till Death shall draw the veil aside ; 
 And bid thee to his quickening scepter bow, 
 
 And enter glorified. 
 
 Fain would I yet, once more, 
 
 Look on thy face, and hold thee by the hand, 
 Ere thou shalt pass from this dim, earthly shore, 
 
 To that celestial land. 
 
 I know it may not be ; 
 
 And sadly now I breathe this last farewell, 
 For when, again, mine eyes thy face shall see. 
 
 Or where — 'Oh ! who may tell ! 
 
THE VICTIM. 
 
 I saw him at his mother's knee, 
 A child, untouched by art ; 
 
 Life's morning dew was on his cheek, 
 Its sunrise in his heart. 
 
 And, while that mother's hand amid 
 
 His clustering ringlets lay, 
 With earnest brow he listened as 
 
 She taught his lips to pray. 
 
 On life's arena, broad and thronged, 
 
 I saw that form again. 
 In youthful ardor combating 
 
 With strong and earnest men. 
 
 And hopes around him clustered thick, 
 And hearts upon him leant. 
 
 And praises fell where'er he moved, 
 And pride before him bent. 
 
 And, though, along his path, the vile 
 Their snares before him spread. 
 
 Unharmed, he still his course pursued, 
 With firm and fearless tread. 
 
 Yet, in an evil hour, I saw 
 Him won to Bacchus' shrine. 
 
 While Beauty, as the priestess, stood 
 Arrayed in charms divine. 
 
 Unto his lips, with Circean art, 
 
 The fatal cup she held. 
 And he, who had his foes withstood, 
 
 By friendship's hand was felled. 
 
30 THE VICTIM. 
 
 The maddening cup he deeply quafifed, 
 And, from its crimson tide, 
 
 The founts of joy, that in his heart 
 Had played, shrank back and died. 
 
 No more in honorable strife 
 He sought the victor's crown ; 
 
 No more he thought of future bliss. 
 Nor of his fair renown. 
 
 The beauty of his manly form 
 
 Still faded day by day ; 
 The waning lamp of intellect 
 
 Sent forth a feebler ray. 
 
 The heavens, that on his path had smiled, 
 Now wore a gathering frown ; 
 
 And, ere the noon of life was reached, 
 His darkened sun went down. 
 
THE POET, 
 
 God giveth the Poet to live in dreams, 
 
 And, though they fade away, 
 They are still renewed from immortal streams, 
 
 Like the glorious flood of day. 
 
 His way may be thorny, and rough, and bare, 
 
 And clouds o'er his sky be rolled, 
 But the hue of the rose is everywhere. 
 
 And the clouds are tinged with gold. 
 
 The arrows are keen that pierce his heart, 
 
 But their point is dipped in balm ; 
 In conflicts deadly his soul has part, 
 
 But he leaves them with crown and palm. 
 
 The path of life is above to him, 
 
 And he treads it with purpose high. 
 And with heavenward brow, that the world may not dim. 
 
 The light of his glorious eye. 
 
 Though forbidden to ask or hope too much 
 
 Of sympathy here below ; 
 Though the fountains of joy, unsealed by his touch, 
 
 He never on earth may know; 
 
 He feels that his mission is holy and grand — 
 
 A boon by the Holiest given — 
 And he scatters the fruits, with a liberal hand, 
 
 That grew on the trees of Heaven. 
 
THE STRENGTH OF WEAKNESS. 
 
 She was a gentle wonian-^nothing mof e ; 
 
 No trace of lofty thought her forehead bore; 
 
 No sign of that indomitable will 
 
 Which braves repulse, and struggles onward still. 
 
 You would have feared to see that tender flower 
 Meet the soft falling of a summer shower ; 
 And prayed that, sheltered in some sunny nook, 
 It never might the winds of autumn brook. 
 
 But clouds M'ere on her sky, and burst the storm, 
 "While with the noonday sun her path was warm; 
 It came whence none such danger did suspect, 
 And, when it passed, her all of earth was wrecked. 
 
 Then, in that hour of darkness and of dread, 
 When even hope from pitying hearts had fled. 
 Then, while in utter helplessness she kneeled. 
 The hidden strength of weakness was revealed. 
 
 Men saw that to an arm Divine she clung, 
 
 And, while the shadows still around her hung, 
 
 Calmly she rose, and with a brow serene. 
 
 Trod the strewn pathway where the storm had been. 
 
CONTRASTED PICTURES. 
 
 If there be in the soul of man, 
 
 By God enriched and blest, 
 One bright and glorious faculty 
 
 More wondrous than the rest, 
 
 Methinks 'tis that creative power, 
 Which, blending light with shade, 
 
 Can forms and hues of life portray 
 To live when those shall fade ; 
 
 Can catch those transient gleams wherein 
 
 The soul's deep feelings play ; 
 Can fix and hold the flash of thought 
 
 When thought has passed away. 
 
 Before me lies, in picture fair, 
 
 An almost angel face, 
 With eyes of azure, golden hair, 
 
 And smile of cherub grace. 
 
 Upon the faithful mirror now 
 
 I fix my mournful gaze. 
 And trace, with pain, the contrast sad 
 
 That limner true portrays. 
 
 The manly brow is seamed xvith care. 
 
 The eyes' glad light is gone ; 
 Times' touch has dimmed the shining hair 
 
 And sunk the cheek so wan. 
 
 Ah me ! upon the sea of life 
 
 How far my bark has sped 
 Since in fair childhood's port it lay, 
 
 With blue skies overhead ! 
 
 And adverse winds have strongly swept 
 
 O'er sea, and land and sky ; 
 And all is changed beneath the heaven, 
 
 And changed, alas ! am I, 
 
 Ah ! never on those glassy seas 
 
 My bark shall sail again 1 
 The petrel walks the stormy wave 
 
 Wh'ere sat the halcyon then. 
 
FAIR BUT FALSE. 
 
 The light of beauty on thy brow- 
 Is glorious in its spring-time glow ; 
 And heaven is mirrowed in those eyes, 
 Where thought in dreamy slumber lies. 
 
 No sculptor's art could match the grace 
 That lingers round that form and face : 
 No ministrel's hand, with skill divine, 
 Awake such thrilling tones as thine. 
 
 Yet, as the seeming stars that sleep 
 In the blue sea's unfathomed deep ; 
 Or those false waters, bright and clear. 
 The mockery of the desert air; 
 
 E'en such the charms that 'round thee throw 
 A halo of immortal glow ; 
 E'en such the radiance and the bloom 
 Which only light the spirit's tomb. 
 
 For truth to thee is but a name, 
 And love, an ignis-fatuus flame ; 
 And all the hopes that spurn the dust. 
 Thou view'st with scorn, or cold mistrust. 
 
 Alas ! when from the crown of youth 
 
 Falls the unfading gem of truth ; 
 
 Alas ! when in the dust are laid 
 
 The bright-winged hopes that round it played 
 
 We mourn above the ruined pile ; 
 We tread wath awe its shadowy aisle ; 
 And sighs are breathed, and tear-drops fall 
 O'er broken arch and mouldering wall. 
 
 But sadder far it is to see 
 
 The wreck of immortality — 
 
 The beauteous wreck, still floating on. 
 
 With aimless course, o'er seas unknown I 
 
AGAIN, 
 
 I had entombed that love so long, 
 That from its tm-f had sprung 
 
 A tree of strength whose wreathed boughs 
 With healing leaves were hung. 
 
 And I could walk beneath its shade, 
 And talk with Memoiy there, 
 
 And pluck, without a pang, the flowers 
 Whose fragrance filled the air. 
 
 I thought no resurrective power 
 
 Could raise that love again, 
 Or bring my soul once more to bow 
 
 To its enthralling chain. 
 
 And now, behold ! a viewless word 
 
 Hath thrown its prison wide, 
 And that long-buried love hath risen, 
 
 Immortal, glorified ! 
 
THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 In that fair spot, renowned in sacred lore, 
 Whose hallowed dust man's earliest footprints bore, 
 O'ershadowed by the interdicted tree, 
 Through whose wide-spread and breeze-stirred canopy- 
 No ray of light came glancing from on high, -> 
 No leafy cleft revealed the far blue sky, 
 He stood in calm, majestic dignity, 
 Who bore the image of Divinity. 
 Fresh from his great Creator's plastic hand, 
 Wearing the signet of his high command, 
 And, by his side, a graceful being stood, 
 In fair maturity of womanhood ; 
 And both were gazing with delighted eyes 
 On the rich garden's unrestrained supplies. 
 From the horizon's far encircling bound. 
 O'er many a scene with thrilling beauty crowned, 
 Their fresh, untiring vision wandered free. 
 With keen delight, that verged on ecstacy. 
 Then Adam, turning to his gentle bride, 
 To whom his thoughts flowed, as the ocean tide 
 To the fair queen of Heaven, "How vast," he said, 
 
 " How infinite the field of knowledge spread 
 For us, dear Eve ! how much, even now, revealed 
 On Nature's face, and yet how much, concealed 
 In time's development, shall be brought forth 
 To bless our sons and to exalt the earth. 
 By mortal weakness only are we barred 
 From depths unfathomed. No restriction hard 
 Is laid upon us by our gracious Lord — 
 No laws but such as meet our own accord. 
 One source alone of knowledge is denied, 
 And for our safety that," — and Adam sighed. 
 Eve, while he spoke, had, from her dangerous stance, 
 Surveyed the tempting fruit with timorous glance ; 
 And when he ceased, with still averted eye. 
 In daring question thus she made reply : 
 
 " Hast thou not often felt a strange desire, 
 In secret held, doth not thy soul aspire 
 Sometimes to grasp at that mysterious lore 
 Which can reverse all we have known before ?" 
 To whom her lord : " My dearer far than life 
 
THE TEMPTATION. 37 
 
 Such thoughts are impious and with danger rife ; 
 
 Knowledge of good, thou knowest, is freely given 
 
 To us as to the blessed sons of Heaven, 
 
 And evil is withheld from love alone, 
 
 For but by loss of good is evil known. 
 
 He who created well our nature knows, 
 
 And what promotes our happiness bestows, 
 
 And we no less against ourselves conspire 
 
 Than him when aught forbidden we desire ; 
 
 But we must guard our inexperienced will. 
 
 For we have power to change our good to ill ; 
 
 And I, as thou, have felt within my breast 
 
 A secret yearning for the unpossessed." 
 
 Then Eve again : " I would this beauteous tree, 
 
 "With its fair golden spheres, we might not see ; 
 
 For pleasant sight doth not the taste suffice, 
 
 And ban or hindrance marreth Paradise. 
 
 If there be, folded in its fruit, a curse, 
 
 "Why should it stand in God's fair universe ? " 
 " Eve, check thy daring thoughts ! thou dost mistake 
 
 The purpose of our God. He cannot make 
 
 Aught evil in itself; but, by His laws, 
 
 Inseparable stand effect and cause ; 
 
 And that which blesses in its proper use, 
 
 Becomes pernicious only by abuse. 
 
 Perversion mars the fitness of His plan 
 
 And frustrates His design of good to man," 
 " It may be, then, this fruitful tree hath use. 
 
 Undreamed of now, and that which were abuse 
 
 In us, may, in some other creature, be 
 
 The indulgence of a blameless liberty." 
 *' Doubtless, our Maker, when he formed it, knew 
 
 A nobler end than meets our narrow view ; 
 
 Yet, for ourselves, it was not made in vain. 
 
 Though under ban its fruit should aye remain. 
 
 Have we not powers of soul, that take delight 
 
 In things that serve not baser appetite ? 
 
 Do we not deeply love, in every form, 
 
 The spirit of beauty with which eailh is warm ? 
 
 And can there be, within this garden's bound, 
 
 Or the wide earth's, a tree more glorious found? 
 
 Its beauty is our own, its forms and hues, 
 
 Its odors sweet, and we, unblamed, may use 
 
 Its sheltering canopy : Oh ! surely, Eve, 
 
 These blessings we should gratefully receive." 
 " Yet, Adam, not in safety, we admire 
 
 Charms that excite prohibited desire. 
 
38 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 To me it seems far wiser to forego 
 A doubtful good than risk a certain woe." 
 ' Yet surely, Eve, more grateful 'twere to God 
 To use the gifts His bounty hath bestowed, 
 Than carefully to shun them, or neglect. 
 As in them were an evil. To expect 
 Will but induce temptation, and the fear 
 Of yielding will but bring the peril near," 
 No more they spoke, but silently reclined 
 Upon the flowery turf, and soon resigned 
 Their troubled thoughts to slumber's gentle sway, 
 And airy fancy's wild, fantastic play. 
 Then came the tempter, and, when Eve awoke, 
 To her, the weaker, in his craft, he spoke. 
 How he succeeded in his fell design. 
 And how prevailed against the word divine. 
 The heavens and earth bear record. It is traced 
 In characters that neither dim nor waste. 
 As " graven with an iron pen and lead 
 Upon the rock forever." It is read 
 By men and angels ; and, though sumless tears 
 Have fallen thereon through all the lapse of years. 
 Still ineffaceable, man's fall and curse 
 Remain the blot of this great universe. 
 
THE PASSOVER OF DEATH. 
 
 A sound broke on the midnight air — 
 
 An outcry wild and dread — 
 A nation's heart was uttered there 
 
 Whose light of life had fled. 
 
 That night the fearful angel, Death, 
 
 Had hovered o'er the land ; 
 And men had fallen before his wrath, 
 
 As grain from reaper's hand. 
 
 The flower of Egypts' realm lay low ; 
 
 Her shield of pride was riven ; 
 Each household band had felt the blow, 
 
 And each, its choicest given. 
 
 No home exempt; the wail that rings 
 
 Through Pharoah's palace halls, 
 Is echoed fi-om the heart's deep springs, 
 
 In lowly, mud-built walls. 
 
 The captive, in the dungeon, weeps 
 
 The son he may not see ; 
 The mother, sad, her vigil keeps, 
 
 In lonely misery. 
 
 Throughout Egyptia's starry night 
 
 The mournful sound rolls on — 
 A sea of human grief, whose might 
 
 Is felt at Mercy's throne : 
 
 Oh ! where were then, the faithful few, 
 
 Jehovah's law who kept ; 
 Who 'gainst the world had held Him true, 
 
 And still in bondage wept ! 
 
 Could He forget to save His own ? 
 
 No ! By that wrathful stroke 
 Their prison doors were open thrown, 
 
 Their galling fetters broke ! 
 
40 THE PASSOVER OF DEATH. 
 
 And while, abroad, the vengeful sword 
 
 Its flaming terrors threw, 
 They, by the sprinkled blood secured, 
 
 No fear of danger knew. 
 
 Safe, as a rocky fortress high. 
 The land of Goshen stood ; 
 
 Calm as a star on stormy sky ; 
 Strong in the power of God. 
 
 And still, though ages since have rolled. 
 That symbol holds its power ; 
 
 A seal whose mysteries enfold 
 Redemption's priceless dower. 
 
 And now, as then, to God who flees, 
 Finds, in the sprinkled blood, 
 
 An isle of peace 'mid stormy seas, 
 An ark on Vv^helming flood. 
 
THE MOTHER OF SISERA. 
 
 Judges 4 ; 28. 
 
 The mother of Sisera stood 
 
 And gazed from her lattice high, 
 With a terrible fear in the curdling blood, 
 
 And a mist in her straining eye. 
 
 Away over hill and plain, 
 
 Toward the battle-field afar, 
 Her tireless vision was sweeping in vain 
 
 Till the light of the evening star. 
 
 She had watched from the break of day 
 
 For the pageant she loved the most. 
 The conquering banner's triumphant play, 
 
 And the march of the victor host. 
 
 But, as hour after hour passed on, 
 
 And naught from the battle was heard. 
 
 With the dews of the morning her pride was gone, 
 And the fears of the mother' were stirred. 
 
 Her ear was athirst for the sound 
 
 Of the trumpet that spoke him near, 
 Not the hero so brave, by the nations renoAvned, 
 
 But the son, to his mother so dear. 
 
 Oh, why does he tarry so long ! 
 
 From her heart came the passionate cry. 
 His chariots are many, his army is strong ; 
 
 He has conque'd — he surely is nigh. 
 
 Still far o'er the distance she gazed 
 
 With a thrilling and yearning pain. 
 To catch the first gleam from his banner that blazed 
 
 O'er his native hills again. 
 
 Her agony grew intense 
 
 With the struggle of hope and despair ; 
 But Mercy prepared, by the lingering suspense, 
 
 For the anguish it could not spare, 
 
 2* 
 
42 THE MOTHER OF SISERA. 
 
 She knew not Megidcla's green vale 
 Was crimson with blood of the slain; 
 
 That Jeehovah had scattered the army of Baal, 
 Whose altars were smoking in vain. 
 
 No prescient sense unveiled 
 
 That scene in the treacherous tent, 
 
 Where the temple of life was so rudely assailed, 
 And its sacred veil was rent, 
 
 Too soon will she hear the sad tale, 
 
 For fleet are the coursers of woe, 
 And o'er the land there is rising a wail 
 
 That will sweep like the tide in its flow. 
 
 But Israel's hills, so long 
 
 By the foot of oppression trod, 
 To a nation redeemed, echo back the glad song : 
 
 '« So perish thy foes, God ! " 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 The conquering Jephthah to his home returns ; 
 Devotion's fire within his bosom burns ; 
 He may not, if he would, recall his vow, 
 By victory won 'tis sealed upon him now. 
 Yet, feels he not a trembling, anxious fear, 
 Lest it should be an object all too dear 
 On which his vow shall fall ? How throbs his heart ! 
 How from his brow the drops of anguish start 
 At the wild thought that flashes through his brain. 
 And leaves a trace of keen and thrilling pain ! 
 "Oh, if it should be she ! Yet, if it should— 
 My dai-ling child, so beautiful, so good — 
 If God requires the offering, it shall be 
 Accorded with a spirit strong and free." 
 
 He nears his home, and Mizpeh's frowning towers 
 
 Drive back his thoughts to Syria's woodland bowers, 
 
 'Neath which, when forced from his own land to roam, 
 
 His exile found a safe and pleasant home. 
 
 Not flying now he comes ; not sad and lone, 
 
 But with his banner to the breezes thrown. 
 
 And the inspiring trumpet's martial notes. 
 
 Whose music proud o'er hill and valley floats : 
 
 For God hath saved His people by his hand, 
 
 And He is now the Ruler of the land. 
 
 Now, through the opening vista, full in view 
 His mansion stands, and quick the portal through 
 A graceful figure passes, fair and young, 
 And followed by a fair and youthful throng. 
 "O God, 'tis she ! " His brain and vision reel; 
 His wrung heart sends to Heaven a mute appeal. 
 The patriot spii-it shrinks not, but the heart 
 Writhes as the oak by lightning rent apart. 
 One instant only on that face is glassed 
 The fierce emotion that within has passed, 
 Then slowly passes off the eye's eclipse. 
 And calmness settles round the rigid lips. 
 
 With sound of timbrel and with dance, they come 
 With songs of welcome to his land and home ; 
 
44 THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 With shouts of triumph, and witii peans high^ 
 They come to greet the son of victory. 
 A radiant girl is she who leads the band, 
 With the dark beauty of her native land ; 
 With flashing eye, and cheek of sunset glow; 
 With raven tresses rippling in their flow ; 
 With softly rounded form and stately mien, 
 Amid that lovely train she stands a queen. 
 And Jephthah reined his steed and sprung to earth, 
 And sudden ceased the music and the mirth ; 
 And she, his daughter, flew to his embrace , 
 And felt his burning tears upon her face. 
 *' Why art thou sad my father ? Wherefore now 
 Should gloom o'ershadow this imperial brow? 
 A nation'»praise awaits thee, and thy home, 
 With welcome fond, forbids thee more to roam ; 
 If victory cannot cheer thee, O my sire. 
 Thy daughter's kiss now bids thy griefs expire." 
 
 The hero sadly gazes on that face 
 So loved, so lovely in its youthful grace ; 
 " 'Tis thou, my daughter, thou hast brought me low, 
 And fillest now the measure of my woe ; 
 For I have sworn to Heaven, and may not now 
 Escape the dread, irrevocable vow. 
 Thou by the hand that reared thee must expire, 
 And mount to Heaven in sacrificial fire." 
 
 Just for one instant did the life depart 
 From lip and cheek, and curdle to her heart ; 
 Then, with a spirit worthy of her sire, 
 She scaled the height where martyrs bide the fire. 
 " And is this all, my father ? then no more 
 Let thy fond heart thy patriot vow deplore ; 
 For, by the God whose favor crowns thee now, 
 A willing victim to the stroke I bow." 
 
 In spacious temple, not by mortal made, 
 With mossy floor, and walls of pillared shade, 
 O'erhung by the blue sky that bends above, 
 With changeless smile of universal love. 
 Alone, beside an altar rudely built, 
 On which no victim's blood hath yet been spilt. 
 The priestly father stands. His marble brow, 
 Serene and high betrays no anguish now. 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 45 
 
 The mouth is firmly set ; the eagle eye, 
 
 Now dim, is fixed afar on vacancy. 
 
 Yet does that cold exterior slightly sheathe 
 
 The heart that writhes in agony beneath. 
 
 Well hath he weighed the cost of that rash vow 
 
 Whose fearful earnest he is paying now ; 
 
 At leisure hath he counted, day by day, 
 
 The thousand joys with her to pass away ; 
 
 Yet, o'er her doom he ne'er hath sighed " Alas !" 
 
 Nor prayed the bitter cup from him might pass. 
 
 One hope, indeed, hath sometimes shed its light 
 
 Across the darkness of the coming night ; 
 
 And now, as nearer draws the fatal hour, 
 
 He almost yields to its delusive power : 
 
 Once in the past, as now, a father stood 
 
 Beside an altar in the darkling wood. 
 
 With faithful soul, and heart with anguish wild, 
 
 At God's command to sacrifice his child ; 
 
 But, when the victim bound and lifted blade 
 
 That sire's obedient spirit had displayed, 
 
 An angel's hand the falling stroke withheld, 
 
 And God's own voice the stern command repealed. 
 
 Oh ! might He not thus interpose again. 
 
 And make His mercy glorified of men ? 
 
 The hour is come ; and silently around. 
 In solemn spell of awe and sorrow bound, 
 Kindred and friends have gathered. Circling wide 
 Withm the leafy screen, they seek to hide, 
 As sometimes we avoid, in sorest need, 
 The friend for whom our hearts in secret bleed. 
 And leave him lonely in his soul's dead pain, 
 Feeling that human sympathy is vain. 
 
 Now breaks upon the ear a mournful strain 
 Of music from a v/hite-robed, vestal train ; 
 And soon, emerging from the greenwood shade 
 With measured steps, they crossed the mossy glade. 
 And, ranged before the altar, silent stand, 
 With beauty lighting up that picture grand. 
 The victim fair, with flowery garland crowned. 
 With long white robes that floated on the ground, 
 Stood with a martyr's calmness on her brow, 
 And said : " My father, I am ready now ! " 
 
46 THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 Silent and motionless awhile he stood; 
 
 Then slowly, softly rearranged the wood ; 
 
 And turning, lightly raised her from the ground, 
 
 And laid her on the altar all unbound ; 
 
 With tender care he placed each slender limb. 
 
 And smoothed her robes, with eyesight growing dim ; 
 
 Gazed at her fondly through the gathering mist. 
 
 And her fair brow almost with reverence kissed. 
 
 The daughter could her heart no longer check. 
 
 But rising sudden, round her father's neck, 
 
 With anguished soul, her arms she fondly flung, 
 
 And for one instant on his bosom hung ; 
 
 Then calmly, with inimitable grace. 
 
 Upon the fatal pile resumed her place. 
 
 Raised her dark eyes to Heaven with holy faith, 
 
 And closed them, with a smile awaiting death. 
 
 Then Jephthah, lest his stern resolve should fail, 
 
 Or lest his daughter's gentle heart might quail. 
 
 With sudden impulse seized the fatal knife, 
 
 And sought, with steady hand, the fount of life. 
 
 No angel interposed — the gurgling blood 
 In crimson tide o'er the white garments flowed; 
 And women held their breath, and stern-browed men 
 Grew pale, who ne'er had quailed at death till then. 
 
RIZPAH. 
 
 " Now bless us, O mother ! the hour is at hand, 
 And we willingly yield to our country's demand." 
 
 " Can the blessing avail of a mother unblest. 
 When the curse of a God on her children doth rest ? " 
 
 " Look on us, O mother ! uncover thy face ! 
 Thou knowest we die for the guilt of our race ; 
 Our hands are unstained, and our hearts are as pure, 
 And Jehovah Himself gives us strength to endure." 
 
 " Oh, were you less noble, less gentle and brave. 
 My sons, I might yield you to rest in the grave ; 
 But peerless and spotless, how can ye request 
 That my heart should comply with this fearful behest ?" 
 
 " Hast thou seen the affliction that wasteth the land— 
 The woes that are dealt by a prodigal hand — 
 And viewed them increasing by night and by day, 
 Till the hope of the nation is withered away ? 
 And hast thou not heard, from the word of our God, 
 That for Saul and his house is this anger abroad ; 
 And the vengeance of Heaven no prayers can restrain 
 Till atonement be made for the blood of the slain ? 
 Let thy love for thy God and thy country reply, 
 Is it better that we or the nation should die ? " 
 
 " My country ! Oh, name not my country to me, 
 Nor provoke to relDel 'gainst Jehovah's decree ! " 
 
 " Then bless us, our mother, and send us away. 
 For the escort awaits, and we may not delay." 
 It is done — they have parted — and never again 
 Shall they meet till the earth shall uncover her slain ! 
 And that desolate mother is sitting alone. 
 As rigid and pale as the sculptured stone ; 
 The semblance of calmness that rests on her brow 
 But evincing the depth of her measureless woe. 
 One hour of suffering, fierce, intense, 
 Has held in its fetters both soul and sense ; 
 And when consciousness wakes to external things, 
 With the first wild thought to her lattice she springs. 
 The streets are filled with the parting throng, 
 And slowly and sadly they move along ; 
 But she heeds them not, for her straining sight 
 Is fixed on the far and fatal height. 
 Oh, a terrible scene for a mother's eye 
 
48 RIZPAH. 
 
 Is pictured against that glowing sky : 
 Seven princes there of the house of Saul 
 As felons hang, and amongst them all 
 Her own fair sons she may clearly trace, 
 By their father's height and his form of grace. 
 One loud shriek bursts from her tortured soul. 
 And oblivion waves above her roll. 
 
 The sun is obscured by the western hill, 
 And Gibeah's streets are lone and still ; 
 And gloom o'er the city is spread as a pall, 
 For the heart of the people is troubled for Saul. 
 And Rizpah sits in her chamber dim. 
 And her voice is heard in her evening hymn, 
 Mournfully broken, but soft and sv/eet 
 As the lonely dove's in her dark retreat. 
 A light step falls on the marble stair, 
 And her heart beats fast with the wild hope there ; 
 But a maiden appears in the opening door, 
 And the brief illusive dream is o'er. 
 She turns to the window and gazes afar 
 Where the pale young moon and the evening star 
 Look mournfully down as they silently spread 
 A silvery shroud o'er the noble dead ; 
 And sadly she sighs o'er the hope so vain, 
 " Oh, never, my sons, will ye come again ?" 
 
 The maiden approaches — "My lady 'tis done : 
 The pavilion was spread by the set of the sun, 
 And the chariot is ready to bear thee away ; 
 Yet once more, O, my lady, I pray thee to stay : 
 Even here, in thy palace, afar and secure, 
 Thy sufferings are more than thy deart can endure ; 
 But there, with the dead, on that desolate steep ; 
 How can'st thou the terrible vigil keep ? 
 Remain, and thy servants will watch in thy stead, 
 For the love which they bear to thyself and the dead ; 
 We are many and strong, thou knowest how true ; 
 We will swear that no harm to thy sons shall accrue. 
 The jackal shall cry for the flesh of the slain, 
 And the raven shall hover above them in vain." 
 " God bless your devotion, my faithful and tried ! 
 In your day of distress may He stand by your side. 
 But not, oh, I pray, in the vengeance Divine, 
 With the cup of His wrath, as He standeth by mine; 
 Fear not for my sake, though the chalice I drain. 
 
RIZPAH. 49 
 
 Nor think He the remainder of wrath will restrain. 
 I have drunk without faltering, and now shall I shrink ; 
 Shall I turn from the cup while He bids me to drink ? 
 I will not — I dare not — the fiat is passed — 
 I will wring out the dregs to the bitterest and last." 
 ' Though thy love be so great, and thy courage so strong, 
 As to bear an ordeal so dreadful and long, 
 Think, I pray thee, how far can thine arm avail 
 "When the beasts of the forest their prey assail ? 
 And if thou the fierce trial thyself will not spare, 
 Permit us, at least, in thy vigil to share." 
 • I cannot consent that the hearts of the young 
 Should for me by such horrors be tortured and wrung." 
 ' But my father and mother thou can'st not deny ; 
 They have sworn they will follow thy steps till they die." 
 ' Then I will not oppose — they may go if they dare — 
 They will seal up the sum of their faithfulness there." 
 
 Earth sleeps — the faded and weary earth ! 
 
 Forgetful of sorrow and blight and dearth ; 
 
 And the watching heavens bend peacefully o'er, 
 
 As though they remembered her guilt no more. 
 
 But vainly the curtains of night are spread, 
 
 And the dev/s of night divinely shed 
 
 For the agonized mother who sitteth alone. 
 
 At the door of her tent on her couch of stone. 
 
 The world, forgetting its sorrows deep, 
 
 'Neath the watching eye of Heaven may sleep; 
 
 But her aching heart no rest may know, 
 
 Though it writhe and break in its speechless woe. 
 
 Her eyes, in fondness and horror dwell 
 
 On the faces of those she loved so well, 
 
 Those faces which still more ghastly seem 
 
 By the watchfire's pale, uncertain gleam, 
 
 And wildering thoughts tempestuous rise, 
 
 As over the past wild memory flies ; 
 
 And the future reveals, in its awful gloom. 
 
 No rest for hope but the joyless tomb : 
 
 Wild thought and dread, whose impetuous rage 
 
 Is sweeping hope from its anchorage. 
 
 And darkening heaven, till its holy light 
 
 Is almost hid from her spirit's sight. 
 
 Her faithful attendants, who all the night through. 
 
 In silence, with sympathy tender and true, ' 
 
 Still sit in her presence, and share in her grief, 
 
 Seek not to restrain what admits not relief. 
 
50 RIZPAH. 
 
 The long and terrible night is past, 
 
 And the glorious morning appears at last ; 
 
 But Rizpah, shuddering, turns away 
 
 And hides her face from its joyous ray; 
 
 As oft we turn from the friendly gaze 
 
 Of one who hath known us in happier days. 
 
 Whose presence, recalling, in colors too bright, 
 
 The remembrance of past and returnless delight. 
 
 But enhances, by contrast, the gloom of our grief, 
 
 And compels us to seek in its darkness relief, 
 
 And thus rise the days insupportably fair. 
 
 And thus dark fall the nights on that scene of despair; 
 
 Till the smitten of God, 'neath the stroke of his ire, 
 
 Doth tremble and shrink like a scroll in the fire, 
 
 In her torture of soul, in her helpless unrest. 
 
 In the keenness of anguish that rendeth her breast. 
 
 In the morning she crieth, " Would God it were night ! " 
 
 And when darkness is round her, " Would God it were light ! " 
 
 To the King on his throne the sad story is told. 
 
 And his heart is stirred with the thoughts of old ; 
 
 And after the signal has fallen from heaven 
 
 Of vengeance appeased and transgression forgiven, 
 
 He removeth the bones with a kinsman's care. 
 
 And with princely pomp to their tomb afar. 
 
 But Rizpah no more to her palace returns. 
 
 No fire on her desolate hearthstone burns ; 
 
 No voice of gladness within her walls, 
 
 No footstep is heard in her lonely halls ; 
 
 But silence and gloom in her chambers reign 
 
 And the shadows of death on all remain. 
 
 Still hoping in vain her beloved ones to meet. 
 
 She wanders, unresting, with weariless feet, 
 
 From the hill where they passed from her vision away, 
 
 To the tomb where they lie in their early decay. 
 
 She hath drunk to madness the cup of despair. 
 
 And it pleaseth her frenzy to seek for them there ; 
 
 But she cannot be won to the temple of home 
 
 Now its idols are scattered, its altar o'erthrown. 
 
THE LADY OF SHUNEM. 
 
 My heart is full of gladness ; 
 
 My cup it runneth o'er : 
 Though the earth be full of sadness 
 
 I shall feel its gloom no more. 
 
 For a light to me is given, 
 
 A lamf) unto my path ; 
 Not a star that burns in heaven 
 
 A purer lustre hath. 
 
 My glory and my pride — 
 
 The idol of my heart — 
 The ruler of its trembling tide, 
 
 My beauteous one, thou art ! 
 
 Thus sang that mother as she bent above her sleeping child, 
 Which, as the echoes died away, unclosed its eyes smiled ; 
 And deep as was the fount of love within that mother's breast, 
 A fount as deep and purer far those azure eyes expressed. 
 The mother long above him leaned, and gazed in silent bliss, 
 And in her spirit thanked her God for such an hour as this. 
 And then the present scene grew dim and faded from her view, 
 And forward came the future years and round her spirit drew ; 
 Bright Fancy spread her golden wings upon the purple air. 
 And all the glories of the earth arrayed in image there ; 
 And in that gorgeous blazonry the mother's eye could read, 
 Though dimly shadowed forth, the height unto her son decreed ; 
 And brighter grew her radiant eye and statelier grew her form. 
 For pride within the mother's heart was welling deep and warm. 
 The rosy arms around her neck in fond entwining clung, 
 And, gazing on the wondering child, exultingly she sung : 
 
 Thou art a gem upon my breast, 
 
 A crown upon my brow ; 
 To thee the princes of the East 
 
 Their haughty knees shall bow. 
 
62 ^ THE LADY OF SHUNEM. 
 
 A glorious one upon the earth, 
 
 Unequaled shalt thou be, 
 And kings to thee shall owe their birth. 
 
 And might and majesty. 
 
 Yet not upon earth's proudest height 
 
 My lofty one shall rest ; 
 Time cannot bound thy upward flight, 
 
 For thou 'rt a heavenly guest. 
 
 With passing years the infant grew in beauty and in strength ; 
 And stronger grew its mother's love, until it seemed, at length, 
 As if they held a common life and breathed a common breath. 
 And parting was a drearer thought and bitterer far than death. 
 
 One morning from the mother's side the fatl*er won his child, 
 And led him forth into the fields where Nature sweetly smiled ; 
 Where gentle breezes softly swept above the waving grain, 
 And healthful scents upon the air and pleasant voices came. 
 It was a scene of cheerful joy the youthful heart to thrill, 
 ~And cause to move in quicker flow the blood by time grown chill. 
 Amid the flowers and fallen grain the child with rapture played, 
 Or gazed in wonder at the skill that moved the reaper's blade. 
 Till high in heaven the burning sun had urged his cloudless way. 
 And poured from his exalted throne th' effulgent flood of day. 
 Alas ! the fiery influence bowed that fair and tender flower 
 Whose fitter place had been that morn his mother's shady bower. 
 
 *' Father, my head ! " he feebly cried, and pressed his snowy brow. 
 
 "My child! I had forgot; thou should'st be with thy mother now." 
 Then, gently raising in his arms, he kissed his darling child. 
 Yet noted not the burning touch, nor glance with anguish wild. 
 
 " Go, bear him to his mother, lad ! " and quickly turned away, 
 His thoughts engaged in hastening on the labors of the day. 
 
 The mother in her chamber sat — her maiden band around — 
 In silent mood and thoughtful as a spell her soul had bound. 
 She heeded not their laughter, though in silver tones it rung. 
 Nor chid them when they wrought amiss, or played, or lowly sung ; 
 Her thoughts v/ei-e with her idol, and her heart in sadness pined 
 In absence of that loved one as a lonely bird confined ; 
 And, though before her window spread a prospect rich and fair, 
 And odors from a thousand flowers perfumed the morning air. 
 The beauty and the fragrance to her soul in vain appealed, 
 For 'gainst the world external her every sense v/as sealed. 
 " Elnathan comes, my lady ! borne asleep in Abdon's arms." 
 Her heart leaps up with sudden joy — no warning fear alarms. 
 The servant, softly entering, sees a silent signal made, 
 
THE LADY OF SHUNEM. 53 
 
 And on the loving mother's breast the sleeping boy is laid. 
 Ah ! quickly notes her anxious eye the soft cheek's burning flush, 
 And o'er the throbbing temples the blood's tumultuous rush ; 
 And sudden fear assails her heart of mortal danger nigh — 
 Her precious boy, the gift of God — oh ! shall he, can he die? 
 Then closer to her heart she holds and will not let him go. 
 As if her love could shield her child from life's unsparing foe. 
 Her soul, in speechless agony, lifts pleading hands to Heaven, 
 And mutely prays that God will spare the boon Himself has given. 
 But vain her love to shield and save, and vain her pleading prayer ; 
 Her nation knows no healing art — there's no physician there; 
 So all, unchecked, the fierce disease has run its fatal course, 
 Till signs of consciousness are gone, and spent the vital force, 
 And by the stupor of the brain the eye is clouded o'er — 
 Penumbra of that dark eclipse that passes off no more. 
 Oh ! in that dread extremity, when human aid is vain. 
 When standing face-to-face with Death, on life's last battle-plain, 
 What, but firm trust in God, can nerve the soul to meet that hour ! 
 What, but imparted strength divine, can give victorious power ! 
 The flush has faded from the cheek, the pulse, now weak and slow, 
 Gives warning that the precious sands of life are running low. 
 With covered face the mother bends to catch the labored breath, 
 Whose lengthening intervals announce th' approaching steps of Death, 
 And, as it faint and fainter grows, she holds her own to hear. 
 And, when the last has died away, long waits with thirsting ear. 
 Then, flashing wide her eyes, she sees that o'er the features pale 
 The dreaded angel, unperceived, has spread his ashen veil. 
 O'erawed, o'erwhelmed, awhile she bends in silent helplessness 
 Beneath the stunning blow, no sign betrays her soul's distress ; 
 Then, rising, calm, with purpose fixed, she mounts the lofty stairs 
 And to the saered " prophet's room " her precious burden bears. 
 A solemn sanctijy pervades the silent chamber, where 
 The Lord of Heaven so oft has met the holy seer in prayer. 
 She leaves him on the prophet's bed, and softly shuts the door. 
 As if "the dull, cold ear of death" could ever suffer more. 
 With haste she seeks her husband's side, and soothes his manly grief, 
 Imparting her own purpose and her hope of quick relief. 
 ♦His loving kindness gave the child to be our joy and heir; 
 In mxcrcy to ourselves He gave, but through the prophet's prayer, 
 Methinks 'tis but to try our faith He makes this fierce assay; 
 He wills to bless us yet, but in His own appointed way. 
 My husband, let me quickly go and seek the prophet's face. 
 The appointed intercessor now of Israel's favored race." 
 "Then go at once, my precious wife, and God be with thee still, 
 And grant the all thy soul's request, if such His holy will. 
 Make ready for the journey; I will go without delay, 
 And send the meet conveyance, and protection for the way." 
 
54 THE LADY OF SHUNEM. 
 
 *' Drive on, in haste, to Carmel's mount, slack not for me thy speed ; 
 I seek the prophet of the Lord, and urgent is my need." 
 The journey o'er, the mountain gained, she finds the prophet's seat, 
 And, in the earnestness of woe, kneels humbly at his feet. 
 
 " O man of God ! thou knowest I dwelt contented with my lot ; 
 And, happy in my husband's love, no other boon I sought : 
 But, in thy judgment, incomplete that happiness did seem, 
 And thou didst ask for me that gift which men most precious deem. 
 The gracious God omnipotent was pleased to grant thy prayer ; 
 And that great blessedness was mine which mothers only share. 
 Now tell me, O thou man of God ! would He who blessed me so 
 Have waked that fount of deepest joy to whelm, with deepest woe ?" 
 
 *' The child is dead ?" " Yea, O my Lord, and therefore am I come 
 To crave thy presence quickly in my desolated home. 
 At thy request He gave the child, and may again restore. 
 Oh ! haste; and go with me at once — delay not I implore !" 
 At fall of eve they reach her home — her lonely darkened home, 
 And, with the father, seek at once, the consecrated room, 
 Where lies that cold and pulseless form whose silent presence thrills 
 The heart with strange mysterious awe, and all that mansion fills. 
 The prophet sees with deep concern the anguish of their hearts, 
 And comfort, such as may be given, his sympathy imparts. 
 He pities that fond love which would recall the spirit fled. 
 And asks that he be left alone v/ith God and with the deed. 
 Awhile he tries by human means to wrest the prey from Death, 
 To rouse again the vital warmth and to recall the breath; 
 But, failing all, his noble soul is stirred with deep distress — 
 The strife between his trust in God, and human tenderness. 
 Oh ! shall he dare, by prayer, invade the awful mystery 
 Beyond the veil, or ask that God revoke His own decree ? 
 The child has safely passed from life — his future bliss secure ; 
 And can he e'er depart again so safely, or so pure ? 
 He leaves the room, and to and fro, he treads the spacious hall ; 
 His soul is rising now to things beyond its mortal thrall. 
 Through agony intense, o'er paths before by him untrod, 
 He rises to that lofty plane on which he meets with God. 
 As Moses from the mount, he comes from that communion high, 
 A glorious light upon his face and rapture in his eye. 
 His fear is gone, for God has shown that 'tis his holy will 
 Another sign be given to men that God regards them still. 
 Now to the chamber of the dead with joyful haste he goes. 
 And soon, along the icy limbs the reddening life-blood flows ; 
 The color mounts to lip and cheek, the breathing, soft and deep, 
 "With gentle motion heaves the chest — and death is turned to sleep ! 
 
 Now call the mother, and let all that house with praise resound, 
 And ever let those grateful hearts with love to God abound ! 
 
ISRAEL'S REFUGE. 
 
 Tlie people of the Lord had deeply sinned, 
 
 And God must punish them, therefore he sent 
 
 Their enemies against them, numerous 
 
 And cruel as the bands of nether hell. 
 
 Before their desolating march the land 
 
 Was green and fruitful as the garden fair 
 
 Of Eden — all behind them was a waste. 
 
 Age in their breast inspired no respect, 
 
 Weakness no pity, therefore did the spoiled 
 
 And persecuted dwellers of the soil 
 
 Forsake their homes, and in the fastnesses 
 
 Of rocks and mountains seek for dens and caves. 
 
 The voice of gladness now was hushed, the song 
 
 Of youths and maidens, and the happy laugh 
 
 Of children, heard no more. Thus did they writhe 
 
 For seven long years beneath the oppressor's lash. 
 
 They sowed their fields in vain— the enemy came 
 
 And reaped the harvest, came and swept the land 
 
 Till naught of sustenance was left for man 
 
 Or beast. Their flocks and herds were taken away, 
 
 Their spirits crushed, their lives in jeopardy; 
 
 And Israel, weak in number, had no power 
 
 To stay the tide of ruin which thus swept, 
 
 Like a fierce lava-flood, across the land. 
 
 But, in their weakness, they remembered then 
 
 Where lay their strength, and turning to their God, 
 
 With penitential sorrow for their sins, 
 
 They prayed for help, and He, the pitiful, 
 
 Who in His wrath remembereth mercy still, 
 
 Heard and delivered them. 
 
ELIAB. 
 
 God had rejected Saul, and Samuel stood 
 
 Before the people with the holy oil, 
 
 To anoint, at his command, another king. 
 
 He knew not yet, nor did the people know 
 
 The brow for consecration set apart, 
 
 For the election was of God ; but, there, 
 
 By Shiloh's altar, calm in perfect faith, 
 
 He stood awaiting orders from his God. 
 
 Bid thy seven sons to pass in order now, 
 
 He said to Jesse, and the sire obeyed. 
 
 Eliab stood before him, and a thrill 
 
 Of admiration sv/ept that concourse vast 
 
 And burst from every lip. Who shall describe 
 
 That proud and peerless form ? Can words convey 
 
 Unto the mind impression adequate 
 
 Of a perfection which it ne'er hath seen ? 
 
 The grace of youth, the strength of manhood's prime. 
 
 The dignity of age, all radiant with 
 
 The flash of intellect, were so combined 
 
 That hght and bright and beautiful he seemed 
 
 As morn upon the mountains, yet as firm 
 
 And as self-centred in his conscious strength 
 
 As the deep-seated and perpetual hills. 
 
 Such form, in after years, to poet's dream 
 
 Or sculptor's hand gave model of a god. 
 
 Suspense was ended. Even the prophet stern, 
 
 The judge impartial, whose unsparing hand 
 
 And pitiless sM-ord had hacked the delicate limbs 
 
 Of royal Agag, even he exclaimed : 
 
 " Surely the Lord's anointed I behold ! " 
 And every heart in that assembly vast 
 Assented ; but Jehovah's answer came 
 Rebukeful, unequivocal, and stern : 
 
 *' God seeth not as man, for man alone 
 Beholds the outward seeming, but the Lord 
 Scans the deep heart." 
 
EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 
 
 Hushed is the voice of mii'th, and silent hang 
 The instruments of music in the halls 
 Of Judah's monarch. The anointed one 
 Lies low, and sadness fills the nation's hearts. 
 
 In the apartment of the suffering. King, 
 The light falls dimly on the weary eyes 
 Of the pale watchers, and the hush of death 
 Pervades the spacious chamber ; slumber soft 
 Has fallen upon the invalid, and hope 
 Once more arises in the anxious hearts 
 Of the devoted ones who wait around. 
 
 Breaking the painful stillness of the hour, 
 
 A sound of footsteps near — a measured tread 
 
 Of solemn dignity arrests the ear. 
 
 And turning toward the portal, they behold 
 
 A form of more than regal majesty 
 
 In prophet garb. With trembling awe they gaze, 
 
 For well they know the messenger of God, 
 
 And dread the import of his embassy. 
 
 O'er his capa.cious brow, where pure and high 
 
 And holy thought has made itself a throne, 
 
 A shadow passes, but unfalteringly 
 
 He executes the mandate of his God. 
 
 Approaching to the bedside of the king. 
 He lays his hand upon the royal brow, 
 And, suddenly, awakening from his sleep 
 With fearful start, the almost dying king . 
 Turns his fast-dimming eyes, and faintly smiles. 
 
 " I know thee, son of Amoz ! thou art come 
 With words of consolation from thy God." 
 
 " To bi-ing thee friendly warning, am I come, 
 O king ! Thy days are numbered — they are spent. 
 Set, now, thy house in order, and prepare 
 To stand before thy God !" Covering his face, 
 And turning to the wall, the king remained 
 Silent, until the prophet, gathering up 
 3 
 
58 EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 
 
 His mantle, went his way ; then from those lips, 
 Cold with the chill of death, burst forth a prayer 
 Importunate unto the Lord of life : 
 
 " Remember now, I pray thee, O my God ! 
 How I have walked before thy holy face 
 In truth and righteousness ; and now, I fain 
 Would live to serve thee still, and to behold 
 Thy face among the living, and to see 
 My fellow-men." And Hezekiah urged 
 His prayer with many tears, and Mercy heard, 
 Before the prophet had repassed the gate. 
 The word of God arrested him, and said : 
 
 " Go back, and to the leader of my people, say: 
 Thy prayer is heard; and God is pleased to add 
 Unto the measure of thy years fifteen ; 
 For thou hast served me faithfully, and I 
 Delight to do thee honor ; yet three days. 
 And in my temple thou again shalt see 
 My face as wont, and thou shalt also see. 
 Even thou, the blessing that thy soul doth love — 
 Jerusalem at peace and prosperous." 
 
 Incredulous, the king 
 Received the joyful message, and replied : 
 " Let not thy kindness prompt thee to deceive, 
 O man of God ! nor think, with feigned words 
 Of comfort, to beguile a dying man." 
 
 "The words are true, O king! " the seer replied, 
 " And from the Lord of Hosts ; Himself will give 
 A sign, confirmatory of His word." 
 And then Isaiah prayed unto his God 
 With earnest faith ; and, condescending still, 
 He gave the sign required — the shadow turned 
 Backward by ten degrees upon the dial 
 Of Ahaz, and the king was satisfied. 
 
THE HEAVENLY HOME. 
 
 In my Father's house above, 
 Many homes of peace and love, 
 Fairer than a dream of bliss, 
 Wait you when ye pass from this. 
 
 Wandering here in grief and pain, 
 Though ye seek My face in vain, 
 Murmur not, the time is brief, 
 I will come and bring relief. 
 
 Ye who still My words have kept, 
 By the tears that ye have wept. 
 By the toilsome labors done. 
 By the wounds in conflict won. 
 You have shown your love to Me — 
 Where I am there ye shall be. 
 
 Sweetly shall the weary rest 
 In those mansions fair and blest. 
 And My Father's hand of love 
 Every sign of grief remove, 
 Till the faded, careworn face 
 Kindle with an angel's grace. 
 
 While on earth thy home is found. 
 To that spot thy heart is bound. 
 And its mighty spell hath power 
 O'er thy soul in death's dark hour. 
 
 Yet is this a fading type 
 Time shall from his canvass wipe, 
 And thy heart's unchanging love 
 Be transferred to that above. 
 
 In My Father's presence, there, 
 Thou My heritage shall share ; 
 Blessedness unknown shall be 
 Thine to all eternity. 
 
THE SINKING DISCIPLE. 
 
 I am sinking, Jesus ! sinking — 
 Sinking in the waters deep ! 
 Roused my spirit, naked, shrinking, 
 Winds from every quarter sweep ! 
 
 Thou, Who on the wave unyielding, 
 Kindly bidst me come to Thee, 
 Let Thy hand, upholding, shielding, 
 Lead me o'er this dangerous sea ! 
 
 Save me ! or I perish quickly ! 
 For the winds are stronger still. 
 And the clouds are gathering thickly. 
 And the waters, dark and chill. 
 
 Pitying Saviour ! can'st thou leave me ? 
 Canst Thou scorn my earnest prayer ! 
 Oh ! within Thy arms receive me ! 
 Give me rest and safety there ! 
 
FOLLOW THOU ME. 
 
 Not where the festal lamps are bright, 
 
 And garlands wreathe the bowl; 
 Where song and dance their spells unite 
 
 To ensnare the wildered soul ; 
 Not in the halls of regal state, 
 
 Where haughty nobles meet ; 
 Not in the bowers where pleasures wait, 
 
 Are the traces of His feet. 
 
 But where the mourner bends in woe 
 
 Beside the dying bed ; 
 And where, unseen, in bitter flow, 
 
 The orphan's tears are shed ; 
 And by the widow's lonely hearth, 
 
 And in the poor man's home. 
 We find, in the lowlier paths of earth, 
 
 Where He was wont to roam. 
 
 And we must go where Jesus leads 
 
 If we His bliss would share ; 
 And glory to perform His deeds, 
 
 Nor shrink His cross to bear. 
 And while we keep that hallowed way, 
 
 By our Redeemer trod, 
 Upon our steps a living ray 
 
 Beams from the throne of God. 
 
 And, from afar, in vision bright, 
 
 The eye of Faith may see 
 The pilgrims gone, arrayed in white. 
 
 And crowned with victory : 
 And 'midst them, in diviner sheen. 
 
 The Lamb that led them there. 
 Whose name, upon their brows serene, 
 
 In flaming lines they bear. 
 
 For still, through all the mists of time, 
 
 They shine as when, at first. 
 That scene of glory all divine 
 
 On prophet's vision burst ; 
 
62 FOLLOW THOU ME. 
 
 And still that heavenly voice is heard 
 That bids us know the throng, 
 
 And why they stand so near the Lord, 
 And sing the conqueror's song. 
 
 " Because they made His love their choice, 
 
 And followed where He led, 
 And turned aside from Pleasure's voice, 
 
 And earthly glory fled ; 
 Therefore, the Lamb amidst them dwells, 
 
 And wipes their tears away ; 
 Therefore, their song, triumphant, swells 
 
 Through Heaven's eternal day." 
 
PEACE. 
 
 When stormy winds in wrath came down 
 
 From hills of Galilee, 
 And wildly tossed the little bark 
 
 Upon the heaving sea ; 
 
 With struggling hard 'gainst winds and waves, 
 
 When stalwart arms had failed. 
 And still more dread the danger grew, 
 
 Till strongest hearts had quailed ; 
 
 Unconscious of the raging storm, 
 
 The world's Redeemer slept — 
 Unconscious of the wild dismay 
 
 That o'er their spirits swept. 
 
 Till roused by those despairing men, 
 
 Who all, with one accord, 
 Broke forth in agonizing cry, 
 " Save, or we perish, Lord ! " 
 
 Then woke that pitying heart, then rose 
 
 That calm, majestic form ; 
 And, with one whispered word, rebuked 
 
 The demons of the storm. 
 
 " Peace ! " and the warring winds were hushed, 
 The chafing waves at rest, 
 And quiet lay the storm -worn bark 
 Upon the lake's dark breast. 
 
 And human souls, temptation-tossed 
 
 On Passion's raging sea, 
 Have sent that thrilling cry to Heaven, 
 
 In earnest agony ; 
 
 And from that voice divine have heard 
 
 The potent whisper, " Peace ! " 
 And felt, alike, temptation's winds 
 
 And waves of passion cease. 
 
6.4 PEACE. 
 
 When He who came, from sin's dark thrall, 
 
 Earth's prisoners to release — 
 Heaven's crowning gift to mortal man — 
 
 His herald-cry was " Peace ! " 
 
 And when, His mission here fulfilled, 
 He sought His Father's throne. 
 
 With Heaven's rich treasury at command, 
 What did He give His own ? 
 
 ' Not as the world give I to you ; 
 
 Not gifts with earth that cease : 
 My little flock, My chosen few, 
 
 I leave with you My peace." 
 
 The peace man understandeth not, 
 
 Which all his spirit fills ; 
 Which bears him, in serene content, 
 
 Above life's thousand ills ; 
 
 The peace of God ! how great that peace 
 
 Himself alone can know ; 
 But, yet, how rich and full the gift 
 
 He would on us bestow ! 
 
 My people ! would, oh ! would that ye 
 
 Had kept My precepts ever ! 
 Then had your peace, in constant flow. 
 
 Been like a widening river. 
 
O, HIGH AND LOFTY ONE. 
 
 Oh, High and Lofty One ! 
 
 I seek Thy face, 
 Thou that inhabitest 
 
 Eternity ! 
 Whose dwelling is the high and holy place — 
 
 Look down on me ! 
 
 Thou who, when man was lost, 
 
 And help was none, 
 Did'st look with pitying love ; 
 
 And from Thy throne 
 Did'st to our rescue send Thine only son — 
 
 Save now Thine own ! 
 
 A prodigal afar, 
 
 I cease to roam ; 
 Weary of wandering — 
 With empty hands 
 And yearnmg, contrite heart, I seek that home, 
 Which waiting stands. 
 
 In outer darkness here 
 
 I see the light. 
 The warmth, the gladness of 
 
 That mansion fair; 
 And groping for the way amid the night, 
 
 Almost despair. 
 
 O, gracious Lord, alone 
 
 I cannot come — 
 Help, Thou ! Thy spirit send 
 My steps to guide, , 
 That I may safely reach my heavenly home, 
 And there abide ! 
 
 3* 
 
WITH THEE. 
 
 When friends, to whom we clung, forsake ; 
 When writhes the heart that will not break, 
 How sweet it were to sleep, and wake 
 In Heaven, O, God, with Thee ! 
 
 When sorrow's cloud o'erspreads our sky ; 
 When hopes and joys all withering lie, 
 How fondly turns the weary eye 
 To seek for rest in Thee ! 
 
 When fierce beset with wrath and strife ; 
 When foes arise to seek our life, 
 Along the path, with dangers rife, 
 We safely walk with Thee ! 
 
 O, God ! Our hope, our light, our all ! 
 Be Thou our friend, whate'er befall ! 
 Through all life's scenes, for help we call 
 On Thee — alone, on Thee ! 
 
PSALM XXVII: i, 6. 
 
 The Lord my darkness doth dispel, 
 And save my soul from death and hell- 
 Where is the foe, that I shall fear ? 
 The Lord, my strength is ever near. 
 
 Oft, when in fiercest wrath they rose, 
 His hand preserved me from my foes — 
 Against me now, should hosts engage, 
 My heart shall calmly meet their rage. 
 
 One thing alone do I desire — 
 This will I earnestly require ; 
 "Within His holy house to dwell, 
 And join His lofty praise to swell. 
 
 And when the storms of trouble rise, 
 I'll seek my dwelling in the skies ; 
 Then, with my feet upon the rock. 
 Unmoved I'll meet the strongest shock. 
 
 And now, I'll boldly lift my head. 
 And shout, because my fears are fled ; 
 With joy my sacrifice I'll bring. 
 And loud my Saviour's praise I'll sing. 
 
PSALM LXIII. 
 
 Almighty Lord ! my God Thou art, 
 And I would come to Thee ! 
 
 With thirsty soul and weary heart, 
 I seek Thee earnestly. 
 
 I fain would find that holy place, 
 Where Thou hast made Thy throne ; 
 
 I long to see Thy glorious face. 
 And know, as I am known. 
 
 Thy wondrous love, than life more dear. 
 With joyful lips I'll praise — 
 
 And ever, while I wander here. 
 My songs to Thee I'll raise. 
 
 Amidst the silence of the night 
 
 My soul remembers Thee ; 
 And meditates, with deep delight. 
 
 Upon Thy love to me. 
 
 Thou still hast my salvation been ; 
 
 And now, with solemn voice, 
 Beneath the shadow of Thy wing, 
 
 Aloud will I rejoice. 
 
PSALM XCVI. 
 
 Oh, break thy silence, Earth, and sing 
 
 Unto the Lord, most high ! 
 Let all thy countless voices ring, 
 
 And echo through the sky ! 
 
 His fearful and most glorious name. 
 
 In lofty strains adore ! 
 His goodness and His truth proclaim 
 
 His majesty and power. 
 
 Sing praise to Him who dwelt alone 
 
 Amidst infinity. 
 And gathered worlds around his throne, 
 
 A glorious company ! 
 
 Lift up thy voice, O ! favored Earth ! 
 
 With all the sons of God ! 
 The morning-stars that sang thy birth 
 
 Still shout their joys abroad. 
 
 And hast thou not a song to sing, 
 A shout of praise to send? 
 
 Oh, come ! thy solemn offering bring ! 
 Thy voice with angels' blend ! 
 
 Come, in the light of holiness, 
 
 And bow before His face ; 
 With gladness join His name to bless. 
 
 And magnify His grace! 
 
 Give honor to the glorious King 
 Who fills the Eternal throne ; 
 
 His true and righteous judgment sing. 
 His sovereign power make known ! 
 
70 PSALM XCVI. 
 
 Oh ! let the heaven of heavens rejoice, 
 And let the earth be glad ! 
 
 Let none be found with silent voice, 
 Of creatures God has made ! 
 
 For lo ! unto His judgment-seat 
 The righteous King shall come — 
 
 And vi^orlds, assembled at His feet. 
 Receive their final doom.. 
 
 Then shall His foes His power confess, 
 And hell's dark warfare cease; 
 
 Then shall the reign of righteousness 
 Dispense the fruit of peace. 
 
GOD'S OMNIPRESENCE. 
 
 Psalm cxxxix. 
 
 O Lord ! Thine eyes have pierced my soul, 
 And searched its darkness through, 
 
 And all my thoughts, though deep they roll. 
 Are open to Thy view. 
 
 Thou art upon my left, my right. 
 
 Observing all my ways ; 
 My spirit shrinks before Thy sight, 
 
 But cannot shun Thy gaze. 
 
 Such knowledge is above my thought ; 
 
 I cannot reach its height : 
 Where shall I go that Thou art not ? 
 
 How fly the Infinite ? 
 
 If in the heavens I seek to hide, 
 
 Behold ! I find Thee there ; 
 And hell's dark regions, deep and wide, 
 
 Before Thy sight are bare ! 
 
 Or if before the morning light 
 
 My spirit now could flee, 
 Amid the gloom beyond its flight 
 
 I still should be with Thee. 
 
 Yes, for the heights and depths are Thine, 
 
 The creatures of Thy power, 
 And by Thy word the light doth shine, 
 
 Or midnight darkness lower. 
 
 Then let Thy favor be my shield. 
 
 Thy spirit be my guide ; 
 And every fear to joy shall yield 
 
 That nought from Thee can hide. 
 
PSALM CXLIII. 
 
 God ! behold my woful state : 
 My heart a desert made, 
 
 My soul with darkness overwhelmed, 
 My life in ruins laid ! 
 
 1 sadly muse on other days, 
 
 Now fading in the gloom, 
 When joy this pulseless heart could thrill, 
 And hope my soul illume. 
 
 To Thee I stretch my weary hands, 
 
 I thirst, I pant for Thee ; 
 My spirit faints — .oh ! speedily 
 
 Return, my God, to me ! 
 
 In mercy come, in faithful love ; 
 
 Judge not by law severe. 
 For in Thy holy sight shall none 
 
 So justified appear. 
 
 Oh ! let me hear Thy pardoning voice ! 
 
 Oh ! let me lean on Thee ! 
 Be Thou from foes, from ills, from sin, 
 
 A hiding-place for me ! 
 
 Thy Holy Spirit be my guide. 
 
 Thy righteous will my oMai ; 
 So I may tread that path of peace 
 
 That leadeth to thy throne. 
 
PSALM CXLIX. 
 
 Redeemed of God ! arise and sing 
 
 The praises of your Lord ! 
 In Jesus Christ, your glorious King, 
 
 Rejoice with one accord ! 
 
 Sing praises ! for He loves to hear 
 
 The voices of His saints, 
 And ever bends a listening ear 
 
 To all your sad complaints. 
 
 Praise Him ! because for you He lives ; 
 
 For you He bled and died ; 
 To you eternal life He gives. 
 
 And bids you to His side. 
 
 Let not your glory be concealed, 
 
 For it is not your own ; 
 The light must be to all revealed 
 
 Which He to few hath shown. 
 
 The powers of darkness will arise. 
 And strive to quench that light. 
 
 But he who on our God relies 
 Will conquer in the fight. 
 
 Then shout aloud, that all may learn 
 
 The greatness of His love ; 
 That all the wanderers may return. 
 
 Our Saviour's grace to prove ! 
 
 Oh ! let His praise, in lofty strains. 
 Resound through all our host ! 
 
 Sing ! for the Lord His cause sustains — 
 His battles can't be lost ! 
 
 His sword, with double edge, has power 
 
 No creature can oppose ; 
 And he who wields that blade aright 
 
 Will conquer as he goes. 
 
THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 On broad Pacific's eastern shore 
 
 An Indian warrior stood — 
 The blade and battle-axe he bore 
 
 Were freshly stained with blood. 
 
 II. 
 
 A rocky cliff behind him rose, 
 
 The waters laved his feet ; 
 And, homeward bound, his victor foes 
 
 Drew near this last retreat. 
 
 III. 
 
 The maddening sounds of deadly strife 
 
 Still lingered in his ear ; 
 A red sea, strewn with wrecks of life. 
 
 Swept round in vision drear. 
 
 Alone he stood — on earth no place, 
 
 No kindred blood he knew ; 
 In him his famed and fated race 
 
 Would pass from mortal view. 
 
 V, 
 
 For ages long, in conquering march. 
 
 Had seen them fade away, 
 As shadows melt from Heaven's blue arch, 
 
 Before the advancing day. 
 
 Till, few and faint, they rested there. 
 
 Along the western sea ; 
 No hope to light their sad despair. 
 
 Of better days to be. 
 
THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 75 
 
 VII. 
 
 And now, again, the wrath that slept 
 Had waked and grasped the brand, 
 
 And fire and sword had fiercely swept 
 Across their fated land. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Till all were gone. Few hours had passed, 
 
 Since, with a gallant few. 
 The hope forlorn, the remnant last 
 
 Of thousands tried and true. 
 
 He sought the battle-field, where lay 
 
 The still insatiate foe ; 
 And desperate deeds were marked that day 
 
 Upon the rolls of woe. 
 
 But when the conflict fiercest raged. 
 And victory doubtful hung ; 
 
 When hand to hand the hosts engaged, 
 And loud the war-whoop rung ; 
 
 XI. 
 
 Came one, with cheek as ashes pale, 
 
 Unto the chieftain's side, 
 And bade him pause and hear a tale 
 
 To stay his heart's wild tide. 
 
 Scarce had the armed warrior train. 
 Which passed their gates that morn. 
 
 With hasty march swept o'er the plain, 
 And crossed the horizon's bourne, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 When on their hapless village fell 
 
 A fierce and hostile band. 
 Remorseless as the fiends of hell. 
 
 And rude and strong of hand. 
 
76 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 They came, as avalanche on the vale, 
 
 In ruin's fearful hour ; 
 Nor aged men, nbr women frail, 
 
 Nor children 'scaped their power. 
 
 Words may not paint the desperate strife, 
 Nor how the vanquished died, 
 
 Maintaining still, in parting life, 
 Their stern, defiant pride. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Enough, that all of Indian blood 
 
 Were on the field that day, 
 And nought but ashes marked the place 
 
 Where all their treasures lay. 
 
 Loud rose the cry for vengence then, 
 
 And wilder grew the strife ; 
 They fought, those brave, despairing men, 
 
 As reckless now of life. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And when the sun went down he saw 
 
 The unequal combat closed ; 
 While calmly, on the crimson earth, 
 
 Each dusky form reposed. 
 
 By stunning, but not mortal, wound 
 O'erthrown, the chief had lain. 
 
 Until the waning moon looked down 
 Upon the battle-plain. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Then dreary consciousness awoke, 
 And, cold and stiff with blood. 
 
 With pain, he rose, and there alone 
 Amongst the dead he stood. 
 
THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 77 
 
 Beneath his folded arms his heart, . 
 
 With speechless anguish, thrilled; 
 With awe, and horror, and amaze, 
 
 His helpless soul was filled. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Then up and down, with weary step^ 
 He passed among the slain. 
 
 And saw and knew each ghastly face 
 Upon the bloody plain. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 With one deep sigh he left the field, 
 And sought his ruined hearth ; 
 
 One handful of its ashes took, 
 And went, a wanderer, forth. 
 
 'Twas instinct led him to the shore- 
 Despair no purpose knows — 
 
 But, urged by Nature's primal law, 
 He fled before his foes. 
 
 As stands some thunder-blasted pine. 
 All quivering from the stroke. 
 
 The red bolt's track yet hot within. 
 But still its pride unbroke, 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 So, for a few brief moments, there 
 The haughty warrior stood. 
 
 Ere the stern calmness of despair 
 Gave place to softer mood. 
 
 The rocky cliff behind him rose, 
 
 The waters laved his feet ; 
 And, homeward-bound, his victor foes 
 
 Drew near this last retreat. 
 
78 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Upon the breeze a sound is borne, 
 A murmur long and deep ; 
 
 As when the forest leaves are stirred 
 Beneath the wind's full sweep. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " They come," he whispered, " I must go ; 
 Farewell ! my father's land ! " 
 He kissed the rock : his light canoe 
 Lay beating on the strand. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 One moment, and the frail bark speeds 
 
 Across the waveless blue ; 
 Unseen, the fading shore recedes, 
 
 Till almost lost to view. 
 
 At length the warrior's weary hand 
 The measured stroke suspends. 
 
 And, turning on the distant land, 
 His straining sight he bends. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Long time he gazed, while o'er his soul 
 An age of memory swept — 
 
 A bitter flood beyond control — 
 And that stern chieftain wept. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 That beautiful, that glorious land. 
 His fathers claimed of yore. 
 
 Held by a strong, relentless hand, 
 Could be his home no more. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 An exile on the dreary waste, 
 
 In endless banishment. 
 No darker cup of bitterer taste 
 
 Could life to him present. 
 
THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 70 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 He felt around him close the gloom 
 That wrought his nation's shroud, 
 
 And to his dark, resistless doom 
 In sad submission bowed. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 With low-drooped head and covered face, 
 
 He drifted heedless on ; 
 And when again he raised his eyes, 
 
 'Twas in a world unknown. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 For he had passed, unseen, the gates 
 That bar the mystic west ; 
 
 And round him lay that spirit land 
 His father's dreams had blessed. 
 
 No glorious flood of golden light 
 In dazzling radiance fell ; 
 
 No gloomy shades like earthly night 
 Upon that land did dwell. 
 
 But light and darkness, blending soft. 
 Mysterious twilight threw, 
 
 And starless skies which hung aloft 
 Wore that same shadowy hue. 
 
 A mystery of life seemed there. 
 Pervading all around — 
 
 A spirit in the balmy air, 
 A soul in every sound. 
 
 The streams, with living murmurs, passed 
 
 In gladness on their way ; 
 No shadows on their surface cast. 
 
 As by an earthly day. 
 
80 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 And flow'rets fair, like gems, were strown 
 
 Along the mossy banks, 
 While music, like the wind-harp's tone, 
 
 Swept softly through their ranks. 
 
 At first, his anguished heart refused 
 That scene's deep calm to feel; 
 
 Till, like a lullaby, it stole. 
 
 With power to soothe and heal. 
 
 Then, thirsting, soon he found a spring. 
 An oak tree's roots enframed ; 
 
 He drank, and knew the fount on earth, 
 In prescient dreams long famed. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 In every pulse he felt the thrill. 
 The bounding dance of youth ; 
 
 His weary arm regained its strength, 
 His failing sight its truth. 
 
 Then found he that, beneath the ranks 
 Of proud, sky-mingling trees. 
 
 He lightly passed, with airy step. 
 As borne on mountain breeze. 
 
 Elated more, but M^ondering not, 
 
 Erirapt, but all attent. 
 He saw, from far, a lofty plain, 
 
 With stately trees besprent. 
 
 And, by a strange attraction drawn, 
 
 He thither bent his way, 
 While, all along, the wild deer came 
 
 Around his steps to play. 
 
THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 81 
 
 A glorious haze enwraps the height, 
 But shadowy forms he sees, 
 
 And music, breathing of delight, 
 Is borne on every breeze. 
 
 L. 
 
 Now near that blissful eminence 
 With quivering heart he stands, 
 
 For friends and kindred there he sees 
 Wait with extended hands. 
 
 LI. 
 
 His warriors, too, so late who fell 
 
 In battle by his side, 
 Now, mingling in the dance, appear, 
 
 With youthful joy and pride. 
 
 But here his course is barred, for, lo ! 
 
 A river, deep and wide 
 And dark and chill, before him sweeps, 
 
 With swift but noiseless tide. 
 
 He sees a stately form advance. 
 He hears his father's voice — 
 Obscurely hears, as in a trance, 
 " My brothers, brave, rejoice ! 
 
 "Rejoice ! for the last of our race has come ! 
 Fulfilled is the Red Man's doom ! 
 Here planted, he never shall hence be torn, 
 To give the Pale Face room ! 
 
 LV. 
 
 " Thou art welcome, my son, to the land of rest ! 
 Thy duty was nobly done ; 
 There's a home for thee with thy loved ones blest, 
 And peace, which thy valor has won, 
 
 4 
 
82 THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Here never the battle-storm shall sweep, 
 Or the torrent of blood o'erflow; 
 
 Here never shall women or children weep 
 For the home or the brave laid low. 
 
 • One shock, and the chill of the water is o'er; 
 
 One pang, and thy pains are done. 
 Strong heart, be undaunted ! plunge boldly and come, 
 I am waiting thee, O, my son ! " 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 He boldly plunged and, shivering, woke ; 
 
 Alas ! the dream had fled ; 
 There lay the sea, there hung the sky, 
 
 With sunset glory red. 
 
 But vanished was the blissful land 
 
 His steps had almost won. 
 And hushed the dear familiar voice 
 
 That cried, " Come, O, my son ! " 
 
 LX. 
 
 More thirsty from this false mirage, 
 
 His heart, so WTung before, 
 So crushed and bleeding, could not bear 
 
 This disappointment sore. 
 
 Uprising in his frail canoe. 
 
 With outstretched hands he stood : 
 ■ My father ! at thy word I come ! " 
 
 And leaped into the flood. 
 
THE OFFICER'S DREAM. 
 
 Through the broad, fair streets of a city unknown, 
 
 His wondering troops he led ; 
 While the ringing of golden pavements met 
 
 The soldiers' weary tread. 
 
 In marvelous grandeur on either hand 
 
 Rose palaces pure and fair ; 
 Too lofty and vast for a city of earth, 
 
 Too strong for a city of air, 
 
 A strange elation possessed his soul; 
 
 And, with novel and pleased amaze, 
 He lifted his eyes to those palaces high 
 
 With a long and yearning gaze. 
 
 Why deepens the flush on the warrior's cheek ! 
 
 Why flashes his earnest eye ! 
 Oh ! what, in that city unknown, can thrill 
 
 His soul with such ecstacy ! 
 
 There stood his young wife, in her delicate grace, 
 Looking down with her love-beaming eye, 
 
 With an angel light on her beautiful face — 
 Approachless although so nigh. 
 
 So pure in her vesture of white she seemed 
 
 That he gazed with adoring love, 
 And a strange deep awe, as if, passed from his life, 
 
 She belonged to the city above. 
 
 With a reverent grace that Book she held 
 
 Whose glory no time can dim, 
 And, with mute appeal in her tender gaze, 
 
 She turned the page to him. 
 
 Ah ! deeply impressed was the warrior's heart ! 
 
 And when vanished the dream away. 
 Its hallowing influence held him back 
 
 Whenever his steps would stray. 
 
 And, when the fair wife, in her beautiful youth. 
 From the home of her earthly love, 
 
 Still grasping the Word of immutable truth, 
 Had passed to the city above. 
 
 He cherished the hope that fondly she still 
 Looked down with her love-beaming eyes ; 
 
 And, with mute appeal in her tender gaze, 
 Would lure him to the skies. 
 
THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE, 
 I. 
 
 In the beauteous light of the vernal morn, 
 Mid the perfume sweet of the flowers new born, 
 A maden stood with a face as fair 
 And a heart as light as the sunlit air. 
 
 Around her were gathered, in rich array. 
 The floral spoils of climes away ; 
 And the hues of beauty and forms of grace 
 Were matched by the maiden's form and face. 
 
 3- 
 
 She gazed on the flowers with earnest love. 
 With adoring eyes she glanced above, 
 And the beaming smile and the sparkling tear 
 Were like sunbeams flashed from a burnished spear. 
 
 4- 
 The depths of her nature were lightly stirred. 
 As the leaves of the rose by the nestling bird. 
 She said, " I will choose me to bind my hair 
 An emblem flower through life to wear." 
 
 5. 
 She gathered the Myrtle, and twined a wreath, 
 With a throbbing heart and a trembling breath 
 She placed it her own fair brow above, 
 And whispered, " Oh, sweet is the crown of love !" 
 
 6. 
 With a tender smile and a gush of song. 
 She glided the shadowy walks along. 
 Till she stood by a Laurel whose foliage bright, 
 Glittered like waves in the moonbeam's light, 
 
 7. 
 Once more a chaplet is quickly bound. 
 And the snowy temples again are crowned. 
 The Myrtle gives place to the wreath of fame 
 And proudly flash the dark eyes of flame. 
 
THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE. 85 
 
 8. 
 
 " 'Tis a glorious crown," she whispered low, 
 And oft has it rested on woman's brow ; 
 . But it carries the doom of a blighted heart. 
 And sorrow is aye of its joy apart. 
 
 9. 
 " Then let it be bound on the manly brow, 
 For its scatters no blight his soul to bow ; 
 And the Myrtle be woman's more fitting dower, 
 Whose leaflets distill a healing shower. 
 
 10. 
 
 " But is it, indeed, a fadeless wreath ? 
 Does it shed no poisonous drops beneath ? 
 Does it flourish unharmed by the spoiler's breath ? 
 Is it never wedded to sorrow, or death ?" 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus, wavering, held she the symbols bright — 
 Of fame in her left hand, of love in her right — 
 And seemed to be earnestly weighing their worth, 
 With a look half serious and half of mirth. 
 
 A shadow fell over the bright young face, 
 Imparting a touch of celestial grace. 
 As the shadow that falls from an angel's wing. 
 Which you feel, as you gaze, is a holy thing. 
 
 13. 
 
 "There is yet a crown she softly saith. 
 That is consecrate to a holier faith — 
 A garland that symbols a perishless hope. 
 Of loftiest aim and unlimited scope. 
 
 14. 
 
 " Of the Passion-flower I'll twine my wreath. 
 With its sad insignia of pain and death : 
 Let the grace and the glory it symbols be mine, 
 And the pleasures that perish I gladly resign." 
 
'HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL." 
 
 A SCENE IN INDIA. 
 
 The midnight moon looked sadly down 
 Where, through the palm trees' shade, 
 
 The white walls of a lonely hut 
 Her glancing light betrayed. 
 
 Fair was the scene around ; within 
 
 One taper dimly burned, 
 And gloom and silence fitly met 
 
 Where love in anguish mourned. 
 
 And zephyrs through the chamber played 
 
 As soft as angel's breath, 
 And lightly stirred the drapery white 
 
 Upon the couch of death. 
 
 There lay, in manhood's glorious prime, 
 
 The fair, symmetric form 
 Which, dauntless in the cause of God, 
 
 Had breasted wave and storm. 
 
 But now the hand that bore the cross 
 
 Was folded on his breast; 
 The burning lips that spoke of heaven 
 
 Were closed in endless rest. 
 
 And o'er him bowed the wife, whose heart 
 
 Long with despair had striven ; 
 As droops the flower beneath the oak "* 
 
 Which lightning's flash hath riven. 
 
 Wild chaos whelmed her as she lay 
 In helpless agony; 
 "My God, my God! oh, why," she cried, 
 " Hast thou forsaken me? " 
 
 A voice is heard, where sits remote, 
 
 An humble, dusky form, 
 Whose eyes are dim with falling tears — 
 
 Whose heart with love beats warm : ** 
 
« HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL." 87 
 
 " My lady ! I have heard thee read 
 From out the Holy Word, 
 That light shall rise in darkest night 
 To them that fear the Lord ; 
 
 " And, as a father chasteneth 
 The children of his love. 
 So, not in wrath, but tenderness, 
 He smites them from above." 
 
 Sweet words of cheer ! as balm they fall 
 
 Upon that stricken soul ; 
 And through the closed and trembling lids 
 
 The gushing tear-drops roll. 
 
 " Oh ! I have sinned in murmuring thus ! 
 But chide not thou, my friend — 
 Thy heart is kind, but cannot feel 
 The pangs my bosom rend." 
 
 *' My lady ! when this aged heart 
 Was warm with blood of youth, 
 I laid it on an idol's shrine 
 In purity and truth. 
 
 "Bat when three years of tranquil joy, 
 As bright as brief, had fled. 
 One night, like this, they came to me 
 And said, ' thy lord is dead.' 
 
 '* O lady ! at those fearful words 
 A dagger pierced my heart, 
 And waves of fire swept o'er my brain, 
 But thought would not depart. 
 
 " All through that long and fearful night 
 I called my love in vain; 
 And still that wild and bitter thought 
 Replied, ' Thy love is slain.' 
 
 " Thoti canst not know the bitterness 
 That overflowed my cup, 
 For I had none to whisper peace 
 Or bid my heart look up. 
 
88 " HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL.' 
 
 "The word of life, which thou hast known 
 From earliest infancy — 
 The word, which had so long been sent, 
 Had never come to me. 
 
 " And when I turned, in speechless woe, 
 From where my sun had set, 
 No bow of promise on the cloud 
 My aching vision met. 
 
 " If I could only say, as thou, 
 I know my love is blest, 
 I could not weep to think that he 
 Had early gone to rest." 
 
 She ceased. The mourner raised her head, 
 And wiped her tears away; 
 "My God," she said, "I kiss Thy hand, 
 Though all my hopes Thou slay. 
 
 " Though dark seems every path below 
 And dark the heavens above. 
 Though what Thou doest I know not now, 
 I still will trust Thy love." 
 
CARE FOR YOUR MINISTER. 
 
 The bells rang out on holy day, 
 
 God's call to man : " Come weep and pray ; 
 
 Nor seek my face in vain ! " 
 They gathered there, the rich and gay; 
 They filled His courts with proud array : 
 
 They joined the holy strain. 
 
 A pale, meek man before them stood ; 
 He urged them by redeeming blood, 
 
 To flee the wrath divine ; 
 The weight of souls his heart oppressed ; 
 He bore them on his priestly breast, 
 
 In agony sublime. 
 
 From day to day, before the throne. 
 Their heavy needs his prayers had borne, 
 
 But they had still delayed : 
 And now the Summer's moon had come, 
 Iri whose dread sky the sword of doom 
 
 Its threatening edge displayed. 
 
 Oh, will they wait the harvest past ! 
 And shall they die unsaved at last ! 
 " Oh, turn! why will ye die !" 
 His soul is thrilled with strong desire ; 
 His lips are touched with hallowed fire ; 
 They feel the warning cry. 
 
 But ere another Sabbath rise, 
 
 To healing founts and milder skies, 
 
 That eager throng will fly : 
 In changing scenes and festive halls. 
 Where Pleasure's fairy footstep falls, 
 
 Their solemn thoughts will die. 
 
 And he who stands before you now — 
 Though fei-vor beams from eye and brow, 
 
 A worn and weary man, 
 When from disease and death ye fly — 
 Shall he be left at home to die ? 
 
 O, save him while ye can ! 
 
 4* 
 
90 CARE FOR YOUR MINISTER. 
 
 Weeks pass, and Autumn's breezes come ; 
 Each Summer-wanderer seeks his home, 
 
 With health in every vein ; 
 The Sabbath bells are cheerly rung, 
 The Sabbath hymns are sweetly sung, 
 
 And prayer is heard again. 
 
 But wonder fills each gazer's heart, 
 And sudden fears up wildly start, 
 
 When, in the sacred place. 
 Where one, endeared by friendship's ties, 
 So oft before had filled their eyes, 
 
 Appears a stranger's face. 
 
 Ah ! briefly is the story told : 
 A failing watch by feeble fold — 
 
 The shepherd's faithful part; 
 A form at rest beneath the sod ; 
 A spirit glorified with God ; 
 
 A widowed, breaking heart. 
 
TO A YOUNG MISSIONARY. 
 
 O, youthful soldier of the Cross ! 
 
 The eyes that gaze on thee 
 Are filled with half prophetic tears. 
 
 Through which we dimly see. 
 
 'Tis not for earth's vain hopes resigned ; 
 
 Its honors self-denied — 
 'Tis not that love's and friendship's ties 
 
 Thy soul has cast aside ; 
 
 For He, whose spirit bids thee go, 
 Has pledged His sacred word 
 
 To compensate the utmost loss 
 For His dear sake incurred. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then, wherefore should our hearts be sad, 
 
 Or fears with hope contend ! 
 Why should we view the course with dread, 
 
 Which must in glory end ! 
 
 Gh ! can it be the fear that thou 
 May'st not have counted well 
 
 That warfare's cost, or spurnest now 
 The foes thou canst not quell ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 We know that youthful ardor dies. 
 And sanguine hopes decay — 
 
 And still life's dark realities 
 Beset our troubled way. 
 
92 TO A YOUNG MISSIONARY. 
 
 And faith will sometimes loose its hold 
 
 On things we cannot see ; 
 And martyr- zeal grow faint and cold, 
 
 And hero-courage flee. 
 
 But shall we, therefore, fear that thou, 
 So full of hope and youth, 
 
 With holy purpose on thy brow, 
 And spirit mailed in truth — 
 
 That thou canst throw thy weapons down 
 
 Before the fight be done ? 
 That thou canst faint and lose the crown 
 
 Before the race be run ? 
 
 Forbid it, Heaven ! The unworthy thought, 
 
 I spurn it from my breast ! 
 God speed thee on thy chosen way, 
 
 And crown with labors blest ! 
 
THE EARLY CALLED. 
 
 I feel the breath of the angel Death 
 
 Upon my cheek and brow ; 
 And the icy thrill of his fingers chill 
 
 Pervades my bosom now. 
 
 The silver chain he is rending in twain, 
 
 For he came to set me free ; 
 And his gentle voice now whispers " Rejoice ! 
 
 I have come to the earth for thee. 
 
 ' For the paths below are dark with woe. 
 
 And the mighty fall therein ; 
 And I feared for thee that thy soul might be 
 
 O'ercome in the strife with sin. 
 
 ' And thy Father above hath sent, in His love. 
 
 To call thee to His home, 
 Where pain and woe thou wilt never know, 
 And evil cannot come." 
 
 Thus ever I hear him whispering near. 
 And it cheers me through the gloom. 
 
 And I walk in the light of his footsteps bright 
 Through the portals of the tomb. 
 
MEMORIES. 
 
 Oh, from the unfathomable past 
 
 How swift the waters gush ! 
 Times' refluent billows bow my soul 
 
 In their tumultuous rush ; 
 And every wave brings back a form, 
 
 Or voice, or look, or tone. 
 Or something it had borne away 
 
 Of what was once my own. 
 
 This little flower, that by the stream, 
 
 In lonely beauty dwells. 
 Has touched a spring of magic power 
 
 In memory's mystic cells ; 
 And once again I seem to stand 
 
 Beneath a distant sky, 
 With one whose voice was aye to me 
 
 A heavenly melody. 
 
 And hand in hand we walk amid 
 
 The scenes long passed away, 
 And pluck again the flowers which erst 
 
 Along our pathway lay ; 
 While gentle smiles and words of love 
 
 The hearts of each reveal. 
 And childhood's hopes, that glow within, 
 
 The founts of thought unseal. 
 
 And who art thou whose spirit holds 
 
 This commune with my own ? 
 Dc^ loving ones around thee throng? 
 
 Or dwells thy heart alone ? 
 A stranger-pilgrim, dost thou seek 
 
 The glory of the skies ? 
 Or, with the angels rovmd the throne, 
 
 Already share the prize ? 
 
 Or, it may be, a darker thought 
 
 Has o'er my spirit come ; 
 Thy soul may track that wandering way 
 
 That leadeth to no home ! 
 
MEMORIES. 95 
 
 Oh ! wherefore came this thought of dread ? 
 
 It shall not rest with me ; 
 Bright was the dawning of thy life, 
 
 And bright its day must be. 
 
 And whether with the flowers of earth, 
 
 Or 'mong the stars of heaven. 
 The memory of thy love to me 
 
 Comes like the dews of even. 
 It brings a soft, refreshing joy, 
 
 Which all my spirit fills — 
 A blissful tenderness, whose power 
 
 My heart with rapture thrills. 
 
 The memory of the spirits pure, 
 
 Who throng the path of life. 
 Sustains the soul and nerves the heart 
 
 To bear its constant strife ; 
 For though we may not, hand in hand, 
 
 With them our way pursue. 
 We know that we shall meet at last 
 
 The faithful and the true. 
 
REFLECTIONS OF A DISENCHANTED BELLE. 
 
 RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO MISS L. L. 
 
 It is long since then, but the time has been, 
 When life was a gay and festive scene, 
 And I trod its halls with a step as free 
 As the breeze that sweeps o'er a flowery lea. 
 
 The flowers are faded, the music flown, 
 The revelers each on his way hath gone ; 
 Many, aye, many, shall meet no more, 
 And none shall meet as they met of yore. 
 
 Then life grew earnest and dark and sad, 
 And it offered no pleasure could make me glad ; 
 I walked in the shadow, and loved the gloom, 
 And buried my heart in a living tomb. 
 
 For the world was false, and life was vain, 
 And the heart's best feelings its source of pain. 
 And the soul's great wants were beginning to press. 
 And it withered and pined in its emptiness. 
 
 But the heart lived on, and the soul awoke, 
 And a holy light through the darkness broke. 
 Revealing a glory unseen before. 
 In the life that endures when death is o'er. 
 
 And now, through the mingling shade and sheen, 
 I tread the green earth with a brow serene ; 
 And it irks me not that its pleasures are vain, 
 And followed so quickly by sorrow and pain. 
 
 For I know of a world, beyond the tomb. 
 Where the cheek is fresh with immortal bloom — 
 Where hope is answered, and love is blest, 
 And the aching heart has eternal rest. 
 
A REPLY. 
 
 Thou woulds't " rather be a spider than a flower or a star !" 
 
 Art thou man or art thou devil whose these words unhallowed are ? 
 
 Thou wouldst rather be a terror than a fair and gentle thing, 
 
 And instead of light and sweetness, thou wouldst bear for all a sting ! 
 
 Thou hast chosen most unwisely, and a bitter doom is thine ; 
 Ever vainly on thy pathway shall the heavenly glory shine ; 
 Thou must dwell 'mid desolation, with a fountain in thy breast, 
 Whose dark venom, ever gushing, shall forbid thee to be blest ! 
 
 The flower with its beauty shall adorn its mother Earth, 
 And its grateful incense offer to the God who gave it birth. 
 Till, fulfilling its sweet mission, it shall meekly bow its head, 
 And resign its brief existence to repose among the dead. 
 
 And the star shall walk in glory on the holy verge of Heaven, 
 And mighty things, unspeakable, shall to its view be given ; 
 And its light shall be a beacon to the wanderer below. 
 To guide his spirit upward from the gloomy vale of woe. 
 
 But thou, who mights't inherit the glory of the sky, 
 
 And live for aye in blessedness, in misery shalt die, 
 
 If thou desecrate thy precious gifts, and in the darkness hide. 
 
 The talents which might be thy own and fellow-wanderers' guide ! 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 I saw thee in a dream — the same 
 Thou wast in days of yore ; 
 
 The tender smile that wreathed thy Hp, 
 The old enchantment wore. 
 
 All day I've held it near my heart, 
 
 That vision fair and frail ; 
 But now the lines are fading out, 
 
 The heavenly tints grow pale. 
 
 I ne'er may but in blissful dreams, 
 
 Thyself or image see ; 
 Yet like reality it seems, 
 
 That thou wast here with me. 
 
 And still there lingers round my soul 
 
 A soft delicious sense, 
 As nightly dews on sleeping flowers. 
 
 Will leave sweet influence. 
 
THE REJECTED. 
 
 Farewell ! The hope that lured me on, 
 The light that o'er my pathway shone 
 
 And seemed a star of heaven, 
 I find was but a meteor-gleam, 
 Like those delusive lights that stream 
 
 Across the marsh at even. 
 
 I loved thee with an earnest love 
 And deemed thy heart all guile above, 
 
 As changeless, pure and true; 
 Thou wast the theme of every thought- 
 And yet, vain girl, I sought thee not 
 
 Till taught by thee to woo. 
 
 And thou, who with a siren's art. 
 Didst win this fond, unwary heart, 
 
 Hast scorned the treasure won ! 
 But thou wilt rue, in future years, 
 With bitter, unavailing tears, 
 
 The wrong thy pride hath done. 
 
 And now I calmly turn from thee, 
 Not reckless what my fate may be ; 
 
 But, with an earnest will. 
 Determined from my soul t' efface 
 Thy image, that its holy place 
 
 A lovelier one may fill. 
 
A PRESENTIMENT. 
 
 blessed home ! I oft have left 
 Thy peaceful shades before, 
 
 And felt with sad, misgiving heart, 
 I might return no more. 
 
 But never have I felt, as now, - 
 This vague foreboding fear; 
 
 This dark presentiment of ill 
 Impending, far or near. 
 
 1 see not where the storm may break. 
 Or where its shadow lies ; 
 
 But feel it, as we feel the gloom 
 Of darkly-clouded skies. 
 
 I feel as if o'er thee or me 
 
 Some change should come to mar 
 
 The gladness of my next return, 
 Or that return to bar. 
 
 TO 
 
 On my heart thy image falleth, 
 Solemn, still and grand, 
 
 As the palm-tree's stately shadow 
 On the desert sand. 
 
 Cooler lie the sands beneath it. 
 Gentler plays the breeze; 
 
 But it fresheneth not to verdure. 
 And it quickly flees. 
 
EARTH NOT OUR REST. 
 
 The stars, e'rewhile that lit our sky, 
 
 Are falling fast around ; 
 The flowers that bloom along our path 
 
 Lie withering on the ground. 
 
 And sadder grows the vale of tears. 
 
 And dim its glory seems ; 
 And hopes that clung to future years 
 
 Are fading now as dreams. 
 
 Visions of happiness that lured 
 
 Our onward steps have fled ; 
 Where once the rainbow-glory smiled, 
 
 We find the cloud instead. 
 
 O land of shadows ! long and wild 
 
 Our weary chase has been ; 
 Yet still unwon the prize we sought, 
 
 Unslaked the thirst within. 
 
 Now, with awakening soul, we feel 
 
 Our home is not in thee; 
 No rest upon thy sljores we find. 
 
 Or on thy wreck-strewn sea. 
 
 The yeanlings of th' unsated heart 
 
 Point to a world of bliss. 
 Where permanence shall mark to joys 
 
 So briefly held in this. 
 
 A land, whose waters, pure and true 
 Mock not the soul's deep thirst ; 
 
 Where buds of hope, by heavenly dew. 
 To fruitful flowers are nursed. 
 
 Uprising now, with spirit freed, 
 
 We spurn thy broken spell ; 
 The changeless world we claim and seek — 
 
 O land of shades ! farewell ! 
 
FROM THAT HIGH WORLD, 
 
 From that high world that lies afar — 
 The kingdom of the Morning Star — 
 E'en from beside his glorious throne, 
 An angel fair came forth alone. 
 As ether, light, and swift of wing. 
 Beyond the lightning's quivering spring, 
 He flashed across the trackless blue. 
 Till like a star before his view, 
 Far off the orb terrene appeared. 
 Expanding as its shores he neared. 
 Till all-disclosed its features lay. 
 Most lovely in the moon's soft ray. 
 Then slowly, while the air was stirred, 
 By heavenly music spirit-heard, 
 He sank, till on a mountain's crest. 
 The dewy grass, his light foot pressed. 
 
 Upon that mountain's side there lay 
 Another spirit, robed in clay. 
 In posture sad, with forehead prone. 
 Communing with himself alone. 
 While on his soul great mysteries pressed. 
 And stirred deep thoughts that would not rest. 
 Life, and the mysteries round it thrown. 
 Death's grand solemnities unknown, 
 And man, strange pilgrim of the wild. 
 Of life and death the fated child- 
 Such themes his mind through mazes led, 
 Which man may never guideless tread, 
 Darkness and peril round him lay ; 
 What marvel, had he lost his way ? 
 
 The path that leads away from God, 
 In doubt and sin he long had trod ; 
 Had nursed his skeptic creed unblest. 
 And found "the wicked cannot rest; " 
 But this was now the gracious hour — 
 The visitation of His power — 
 That comes to all with blesings rife. 
 When pitying Mercy offers life. 
 
FROM THAT HIGH WORLD. 103 
 
 A presence felt, invisible, 
 Held over him a sacred spell ; 
 And, yielding to its blessed sway, 
 He rose, and humbly knelt to pray ; 
 While tears unwonted filled those eyes 
 Uplifted to the glorious skies. 
 
 Then, as he prayed for inward light, 
 
 The darkness fled his quickened sight, 
 
 And, on His throne, the Judge severe. 
 
 Himself revealed in vision clear. 
 
 While round Him fierce the lightnings played, 
 
 And thunders deep His wrath betrayed ! 
 
 In trembling terror prostrate lay 
 The mortal who had spurned the sway 
 Of the Almighty God, whose ire 
 Now smote him like consuming fire. 
 Fiercely the broken law did roll 
 Its thunders o'er his guilty soul. 
 And all the stars withdrew their light, 
 Till round him closed a rayless night. 
 Remorse his guilty spirit seized. 
 And dread of vengence unappeased ; 
 And helpless and in tears he lay 
 With trembling lips that strove to pray. 
 
 Then came a voice from Calvary's height, 
 That thrilled the darkness of that night — 
 A voice that calmed the troubled soul, 
 And fear subdued to hope's control. 
 
 Again he rose, and turned to see 
 
 From whence that thrilling voice might be ; 
 
 He saw, and ne'er from memory's glass. 
 
 The image of that scene could pass, 
 
 It was the Almighty God, again. 
 
 But on His brow no anger then ; 
 
 No lightnings fierce around Him played ; 
 
 No thunders ominous dismayed ; 
 
 But, where the God repelled before, 
 
 A strangely kindred look He wore ; 
 
 In dying agony He seemed, 
 
 And from His side the life-blood streamed, 
 * I die for thee," He sweetly said ; 
 ' By pangs of mine thy debt is paid." 
 
104 FROM THAT HIGH WORLD. 
 
 The vision passed — and o'er his soul 
 A heavenly calAness sweetly stole, 
 And all around there seemed to fliy 
 The glimmerings of immortal day. 
 
 To earth he turned his dazzled eyes ; 
 
 Then, first, he saw, with glad surprise, 
 
 A glorious angel by his side. 
 
 Who softly said, " Behold thy guide ! 
 
 For thou, of Heaven art now an heir. 
 
 And I am sent to lead thee there. 
 
 Arise, and gird thee quickly, now, 
 
 And bind the helmet round thy brow, 
 
 For perilous the path and dread 
 
 The Soldier of the Cross must tread ! 
 
 But fear not — He who reigns above 
 
 Regards thee with a father's love. 
 
 Thy sins He frdfely has forgiven, 
 
 And calls thee to His home in Heaven ; 
 
 And I, vmseen, will hold thy hand, 
 
 And guide thee through this dangerous land. 
 
LINES FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 To Friendship's altar what gift shall I bring ? 
 • Of the treasures of earth and sky ? 
 Of the precious things of the ancient hills ? 
 Of the gems that in ocean lie ? 
 
 Will an offering of these suffice for thee — 
 
 The perishing things of earth ? 
 Will they answer the wants, that, of boundless reach, 
 
 In the deathless soul have birth ? 
 
 Shall I ask for thee that thy life may be 
 
 A dream of light and joy — 
 That clouds may never thy path o'ershade, 
 
 Or sorrow thy bliss alloy ? 
 
 Will a prayer like this be an offering meet 
 
 For a spirit whose lot is cast 
 Where the soul is refined by affliction's power, 
 
 As gold, by the fiery blast ? 
 
 Ah ! no ; let me ask a richer boon — 
 
 A worthier gift be thine ; 
 Ay, priceless and fadeless the offering be 
 
 That is laid on affection's shrine. 
 
 May thine be the peace of the stainless soul — 
 
 The blood washed and forgiven ! 
 May thine be the Chrtstian's faith sublime, 
 
 And the endless rest of Heaven ! 
 
VAIN GIRL, FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell ! The heart whose wasted wealth 
 
 Was poured alone on thee, 
 Still fondly holds the memory dear 
 
 Of what thou wast to me. 
 
 Throned in my soul's idolatiy, 
 
 In peerless beauty, thou 
 To me did'st seem almost divine, 
 
 With glory on thy brow ! 
 
 I love thee ! yea, my spirit bowed. 
 
 In worship at thy feet ; 
 And smiles from thee enkindled hopes, 
 
 Illusive still, but sweet. 
 
 The halo that around thee hung 
 
 Is lost in darkness now ; 
 And only pride enthroned I see 
 
 On thy magnific brow. 
 
 Vain girl ! I mourn that, for thy sake, 
 
 Distrust of woman's truth 
 Should take the place of that fond faith 
 
 That nerves the heart of youfti. 
 
 I cannot leave thee, even now. 
 
 Without this earnest prayer ; 
 That thou may'st ne'er, by slighted love, 
 
 Be taught the pangs I bear. 
 
SUNSHINE. 
 
 r 
 
 Oh ! grand and glorious is the night, 
 
 With pomp of moon and stars — 
 More gorgeous than the rushing light, 
 
 When morn her gates unbars ! 
 But cold the light that gilds the night 
 
 And awful is its gloom ! 
 The darkness and the chill alike 
 
 Are symbols of the tomb ! 
 
 But, in the warm and gladdening light 
 
 That from our sun is poured, 
 A stronger glory veils its might. 
 
 But felt to be adored, 
 The power to bless with fruitfulness — 
 
 To vivify the earth ; 
 And where that quickening power is felt 
 
 All lovely things have birth. 
 
 It mitigates the woes of man ; 
 
 Some joy to all it brings ; 
 It seeks the sleepless couch of pain. 
 
 With healing in its wings : 
 Disease and blight, in cowering flight, 
 
 Before its steps retreat ; 
 The pestilence that walks in night 
 
 Dares not its influence meet. 
 
 But, to the physical unknown, 
 
 A holier influence still, 
 A power by spirit felt alone 
 
 That glorious light doth fill ; 
 To exorcise all spirits dark 
 
 The power within it dwells ; 
 And where it falls it disenthralls 
 
 The soul from evil spells. 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 The crimson of the western sky 
 Slow faded to a rosy dye, 
 And, as the Night advanced her sway, 
 It paler grew, and passed away. 
 
 And now the lamps are lit on high. 
 And streams of glory flood the sky ; 
 And through its half transparent dome, 
 The spirit dimly sees its home ; 
 And visions, bathed in heavenly light. 
 Are half revealed to mortal sight. 
 
 Behold ! the herald of the queen 
 
 Is at the orient portal seen ; 
 
 And soon, in peerless majesty, 
 
 Ail-royally appareled, she 
 
 Comes from her chamber forth, alone, 
 
 And proudly mounts the empyreal throne. 
 
 Earth's veil of mingling shade and sheen 
 Is thrown above her robe of green. 
 And softly folded on her breast, 
 Her children all are hushed to rest ; 
 While over them there seems to dwell 
 The influence of a holy spell. 
 As if the over-hovering air 
 Were hallowed by a mother's prayer. 
 
 Oh ! who, on such a night, hath stood, 
 Amid that soul-baptizing flood ! 
 While all the glorious things of night 
 Awoke him to intense delight — 
 And felt the universal Soul, 
 The quickening spirit of the whole ; 
 Immersed in depths of Deity; 
 Nor felt his immortality ? 
 
MORNING. 
 
 How fresh and fair 
 
 This early air ! 
 How soft the skies above 
 
 They bend o'er earth, 
 
 At Morning's birth, 
 With tears of silent love. 
 
 And incense fills, 
 
 From thousand hills. 
 Heaven's concave with devotion ; 
 
 And voices sweet. 
 
 In concord meet, 
 Till music swells like ocean. 
 
 The evening hour 
 
 Hath spell of power 
 Mysterious and sublime ; 
 
 Earth's vesper hymn ! 
 
 Foreshadowing dim 
 Th' unacted scenes of Time. 
 
 But Morning bright; 
 
 O'er coming Night, 
 And sceptred, throned and crowned, 
 
 Foreshoweth clear 
 
 Th' unshadowed sphere, 
 Where life's fair goal is found. 
 
A MORNING IN SPRING. 
 
 How fair is the earth to-day ! 
 
 How bright its light ! 
 
 How soft its shade ! 
 How gently its breezes play ! 
 
 Its music tones how sweet ! ^ 
 
 And the fragrant flowers, 
 
 That gem its bowers, 
 How fondly our smiles they meet ! 
 
 And how our spirits thrill 
 
 With thoughts too deep 
 
 To silent keep 
 Though still unspeakable ! 
 
 Oh, that to me were given 
 
 The ministrel's power, 
 
 In rapture's hour, 
 To breathe in tones of heaven ! 
 
 Then, when these moments come ; 
 
 When every sense 
 
 Is clear and tense. 
 And heart and soul at home, 
 
 I would the bliss impart ; 
 
 In music deep 
 
 Its thrill should sweep 
 O'er many a human heart. 
 
TO A DISTINGUISHED INFIDEL. 
 
 Lone dweller in the Vale of Tears ! 
 
 Unwreathe thy mournful brow j 
 The shadow of thy future years 
 
 Is on thy spirit now. 
 
 What boots it that thy name is heard 
 
 From earth's far shores returned, 
 Or that the thoughts thy voice hath stirred, 
 
 Upon man's heart are burned? 
 
 O'er life's dear waste, by passion driven, 
 
 On fruitless quest, alone, 
 Disdaining earth, disowned of Heaven, 
 
 Thou tread'st a wild unknown. 
 
 Above thy head a cloud is hung, 
 
 Through which thou may'st not see ; 
 
 Along thy path are terrors flung, 
 Whose frown thou canst not flee. 
 
 In vain thou murmurest 'gainst thy fate, 
 
 Or plain'st of baffled hope ; 
 That fate is but a broken law 
 
 With which thou canst not cope. 
 
 He who the Fount of Life has spurned, 
 
 By his own deed accursed, 
 Must wander 'mong his cisterns dry 
 
 In everlasting thirst. 
 
 And who ignores the Source of Light, 
 
 And wrapped in self-made gloom, 
 Wv)uld kindle sparks to gild that night, 
 
 In darkness finds his doom. 
 
DEATH OF COL. PEYTON COLQUITT. 
 
 Upon that dread but glorious day, 
 Like autumn leaves our heroes lay- 
 Along the Stream of Death ! 
 Brave souls were passing to the skies, 
 And God looked down with pitying eyes. 
 And angels held their breath. 
 
 There, front to front, the armies stood ; 
 The invader, still unslaked with blood, 
 
 With murderous heart and cold — 
 And there, with proud, defiant brow 
 That could not to a conqueror bow. 
 
 Stood freedom's champions bold. 
 
 Thus far the strife had desperate been, 
 And Victory poised the scales between 
 
 Those fiercely struggling foes ; 
 The Southron fought for more than life, 
 And, in that wild and stubborn strife, 
 
 To peerless daring rose. 
 
 4. 
 Then, where valorous deeds were done, 
 And highest meeds of honor won, 
 
 And Hope's fair banner waved. 
 One gallant form conspicuous shone — 
 In clanger's front his place was known, 
 
 And death he calmly braved. 
 
 One moment, from that deadly hail. 
 Dismayed he saw his folloM^ers quail. 
 And forward rushed alone ; 
 
DEATH OF COLONEL PEYTON COLQUITT. 113 
 
 With forehead bare and f!ashin,<^ eye, 
 He waved his gleaming sword on high, 
 And loudly cheered them on. 
 
 6. 
 
 Alas ! too fair a mark is seen, 
 The noble form, the heroic mien, 
 
 By wary foeman's eye ! 
 The sword is dropped — the forehead bowed — 
 The cold dew bathes that forehead proud — 
 
 He falls — and falls to die ! 
 
 7. 
 By vengeance then his troops were fired ; 
 By speechless grief and rage inspired, 
 
 And rushing on the foe. 
 The tide of battle onward rolled, 
 And backward swept the invader bold 
 
 In wild resistless flow. 
 
 8. 
 
 Thus nobly, in his manhood's prime, 
 In freedom's holy cause sublime. 
 
 The gallant Colquitt fell ! 
 The Christian warrior, loved and mourned — 
 His spirit has to Him returned 
 
 Who *' doeth all things well." 
 
 9. 
 
 Oh ! not in vain the patriot dies ! 
 His blood from Freedom's altar cries, 
 
 And tyrants stand aghast ; 
 For Justice heeds and slumbers not — 
 That blood, though long it seem forgot. 
 
 Will be avenged at last. 
 
 5* 
 
AFTER THE SURRENDER. 
 
 We vainly hoped the cloud, that hung 
 
 In darkness o'er our skies, 
 Was lined with light, whose beams, at length, 
 
 Should cheer our aching eyes. 
 
 We saw it rise as Carmel saw 
 
 The darkling spot afar ; 
 We saw it spread in gathering gloom, 
 
 Excluding sun and star. 
 
 Long, long we watched, and wept, and prayed 
 
 The gloom might pass away ; 
 And to our paths return, again, 
 
 The Hght of peaceful day. 
 
 Alas ! that darkness might not flee ; 
 
 It was no transient cloud, 
 But Ruin's awful wings outspread. 
 
 Our light, our heaven, to shroud. 
 
 We knew it not when waves of blood 
 
 In storm had swept our land ; 
 When earthly joys, o'erthrown, lay thick 
 
 As wrecks on ocean's strand. 
 
 While yet one ray of light appeared, 
 
 Our hope was fixed on Heaven ; 
 But now that last faint ray is quenched, 
 
 And hope's last hold is riven. 
 
 To Him, the righteous Judge above, 
 
 With bleeding hearts we bow ; 
 We helpless bow — all earthly aims, 
 
 All efforts futile now. 
 
TO MRS. M. M- 
 
 If friendship could my soul inspire, 
 Or minstrel skill were mine, 
 
 I would, not with a tuneless lyre, 
 Respond to call of thine. 
 
 But powerless now of hand and voice 
 I strike the chords in vain ; 
 
 No answering music bids rejoice, 
 Or thrills with pleasing pain. 
 
 Barred is the fair, enchanted land, 
 In which I strayed of yore. 
 
 And fled the bright serial band 
 That haunt my steps no more. 
 
 As one, whose path has gently wound 
 Through valley scenery fair. 
 
 With mountain grandeur all around, 
 And music on the air 
 
 5. 
 
 Comes through a lonely pass and finds 
 
 A desert all before. 
 Through which his path, far-reaching winds 
 
 ' Mid flowery scenes no more. 
 
 6. 
 
 So now to me life's path appears 
 
 With song and vision flown ; 
 And, though I waste not sighs or tears, 
 
 I miss the glory gone. 
 
118 FAREWELL TO A FRIEND. 
 
 7. 
 But 'tis not all a dreary waste 
 
 That yet before me lies ; 
 Green spots I see, with fountains graced, 
 
 "Where sheltering palm trees rise. 
 
 8. 
 
 And though, at times, with weary feet, 
 
 In duty's path I tread, 
 The rest beside those founts is sweet — 
 
 With shadows o'er me spread. 
 
 9. 
 
 Thy friendship is an Elim fair, 
 Where many hearts repose ; 
 
 Exhaustless in its treasures rare. 
 With bloom no fading knows. 
 
 10. 
 
 And while, along the desert path, 
 
 Such bright oases lie, 
 Faint-hearted he who deems he hath 
 
 A lot o'er which to sigh. 
 
 FAREWELL TO A FRIEND. 
 
 TO MRS. B 
 
 WTien the memories of the past 
 Round thy soul are gathering fast. 
 When thy heart recounts its treasures ; 
 When thou view'st the future's pleasures. 
 In those dreams I ask no part — 
 Dearer claims divide thy heart. 
 
 Yet, because my love for thee 
 
 Shall endure eternally. 
 
 Some requital I would crave — ' 
 
 Some remembrance I would have ; 
 
 This, oh ! this, I ask of thee. 
 
 When thou pray'st remember me ! 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 MRS. M. M . 
 
 The aching hearts that bleed for thee 
 
 May now be calm and still, 
 But, where thy image wont to be, 
 
 The void — oh ! who can fill ? 
 
 Our feet may roam 'neath other skies. 
 
 And kindly hearts surround. 
 But none may love like that which lies 
 
 Within the hallowed ground. 
 
 We miss thee, gentle friend ! oh ! oft 
 
 We miss thy cheering smile. 
 Thy voice, whose tones so sweet and soft 
 
 Could cares and toils beguile. 
 
 The old familiar paths we tread, 
 
 So often trod with thee ; 
 But, where thy smile its radiance shed, 
 
 Is awful vacancy ! 
 
 And sadly for ourselves we mourn, 
 
 And for the stricken earth, 
 That thou shouldst from our arms be torn 
 
 With all thy matchless worth. 
 
 Woe for the broken hearts, to thine 
 
 By ties of kindred bound ! 
 For them th' unfailing love Divine 
 
 A healing balm be found ! 
 
 But, not for thee, O glorious one ! 
 
 Should sighs or tears be given ; 
 Long hadst thou sought the rest now won, 
 
 And long been meet for Heaven. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 [xNTSCRIBED TO DR, AND MRS. U. B. A- 
 BY F. A. THIGPEN. 
 
 To US God kindly gave, last Spring, 
 
 A tender, lovely flower. 
 There was on earth no fairer plant 
 
 In any lady's bower. 
 
 With fragile stem and tender leaves 
 
 It slowly, sweetly grew ; 
 Whilst all around a perfume sweet 
 
 Our little flow'ret threw. 
 
 With careful hand and anxious heart 
 
 We saw its leaves unfold, 
 Until Ave felt for it a love 
 
 Whose depths can ne'er be told. 
 
 The Spring's soft breeze and Summer's sun 
 
 But made a transient stay. 
 And Winter's cold and piercing blast 
 
 Soon swept our flower away ! 
 
 We strove, in vain, its life to save; 
 
 We watched around its bed ; 
 But soon it slept within its grave, 
 
 "A dweller with the dead." 
 
 Our hearts, now bowed in deepest woe, 
 
 Deplore its early death. 
 Although we know it blooms above, 
 
 Where life is not a breath. 
 
 But in our great and grievous loss, 
 
 A loving God is seen : 
 He gave, and He has taken hence 
 
 Our precious Minnie Dean. 
 
THE STREAM OF LIFE. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 A broad, fair stream, with noiseless tide, 
 
 Rolled through a forest dark and wide ; 
 
 And, where its banks retreating lay, 
 
 Encircling round a tiny bay, 
 
 A band of radiant angels stood, 
 
 And gazed upon the glittering flood ; 
 
 And there, just launched upon the bay, 
 
 A little barque all trembling lay ; 
 
 A shell-like thing, so fair and frail, 
 
 With silver mast and silken sail. 
 
 And then I saw, reclining there, 
 
 A child-like form, exceeding fair, 
 
 With cherub brow and cheek of snow. 
 
 Just tinted with a rosy glow ; 
 
 With soft, fair hair and dimpled arms — 
 
 With coral lips of rarest charms ; 
 
 Eyes of that undetermined hue, 
 
 That medium clear the soul looks through, 
 
 Which, changeful as the summer skies, 
 
 Brings haunting dreams of Paradise. 
 
 It was this babe so heavenly fair. 
 That claimed the watchful angel's care ; 
 And, as the barque the current bore. 
 They glided still along the shore. 
 'Twas morn, and gentle breezes crept 
 Among the trees, and lightly swept 
 Above the stream and filled the sail 
 That onward bore the vessel frail ; 
 The dew-drops glittered on the leaves. 
 The golden web the sunlight weaves 
 Fell o'er the shadowy ground and stream, 
 And that fair child, amidst its gleam. 
 And amidst the odors from the land, 
 And amidst the freshening breezes bland, 
 Looked up with bright and beaming eye. 
 And clapped its hands in ecstacy. 
 Life was to it a sea of bliss, 
 Unfathomed as the blue abyss ; 
 It dreamed not of the rocks below. 
 Nor of the storms that o'er it blow. 
 
120 THE STREAM OF LIFE, 
 
 Thus on it floated down the tide 
 
 Which ever grew more strong and wide ; 
 
 But not alone the silken sail 
 
 Was wafted by the freshening gale. 
 
 A thousand barques the broad stream bore, 
 
 And guardian angels lined the shore ; 
 
 The heavens were near and open there, 
 
 As in the Patriarch's vison fair, 
 
 And shining wings and robes of light 
 
 Above them held unceasing flight; 
 
 And golden chains of fabric rare 
 
 Fell, glittering, through the sunlit air, 
 
 Like threads of gossamer, so light 
 
 They would not strike the careless sight. 
 
 Along whose fine and thrilling frame. 
 
 Electric symbols went and came ; 
 
 One end of each was held in Heaven, 
 
 And one to each young voyager given. 
 
 On, on, they floated down the tide 
 
 W^hich ever grew more strong and wide ; 
 
 And higher rose the morning sun, 
 
 The dew-drops were exhaled and gone, 
 
 The matin song of birds was hushed ; 
 
 But still with flowers the banks were flushed. 
 
 I watched the little silken sail 
 
 That sped the shell -like vessel frail ; 
 
 And its fair occupant, no more 
 
 A nestling infant as before. 
 
 But wearing childhood's riper grace. 
 
 With still a cherub form and face 
 
 Two loving spirits hovered by, 
 
 And turned the helm when rocks were nigh 
 
 Who differed from the angel band 
 
 That swept the air and walked the land ; 
 
 More likeness to the child they bore, 
 
 And look of deeper interest wore ; 
 
 They seemed not of immortal birth, - 
 
 But part of Heaven and part of earth. 
 
 The sun had half-way reached the noon ; 
 The spring was in its loveliest bloom ; 
 The child was now a maiden fair 
 With still that angel face and air. 
 As on the youthful voyagers sped, 
 I saw that, glittering overhead, 
 
THE STREAM OF LIFE. 121 
 
 A cloud of earthly passions flew, 
 And almost hid the heavens from view ; 
 And siren strains came o'er the deep, 
 That lulled unwatchful souls to sleep. 
 Or lured them from their course astray, 
 To where the treacherous whirlpool lay ; 
 ■ And many then unloosed the hold 
 By which they clasped the chains of gold, 
 Their heaven-fast cables, and no more 
 Their guardian angels trod the shore ; 
 But she, that blessed girl, did she 
 Forget her immortality ? 
 Could Pleasure's painted wings outspread, 
 Or shadowy forms of terrors dread, 
 Obscure her heaven, or lure astray 
 Her vessel from its steadfast way ? 
 No ! e'en when storms, with fearful sweep. 
 Aroused the dark and angry deep, 
 And hurled the boats with awful force, 
 They could not move her from her course ; 
 They could not loose the steadfast hold 
 By which she clasped her chain of gold ; 
 Nor break the intercourse divine 
 Which passed along that slender line. 
 
 The stream was now almost a sea, 
 
 And wild in its rapidity ; 
 
 But, here and there, upon its breast, 
 
 Were isles, affording transient rest, 
 
 Within whose sheltering harbors moored, 
 
 Lay many a barque, from storms secured ; 
 
 And here and there were towers, whose height 
 
 Extended far the range of sight. 
 
 From which, when winds propitious blew, 
 
 And raised the cloud that hid the view, 
 
 Might glimpses of a land be seen 
 
 Far off, whose shores were ever green. 
 
 Embosomed in that ocean vast 
 
 To which the stream was hurrying fast, 
 
 And music from its palmy bowers, 
 
 And perfume from immortal flowers. 
 
 Came sometimes faintly o'er the wave 
 
 And foretaste of its pleasures gave. 
 
 And angels said that ever there 
 
 The sea was calm and skies were fair; 
 
 That pain and grief were there un^iown 
 
 And joy forever held the throne. 
 
122 THE STREAM OF LIFE. 
 
 And warning, toci, they sometimes gave 
 
 Of dangerous shores beyond the wave, 
 
 Far to the left of that fair isle, 
 
 A land that wore no bloom nor smile, 
 
 Where Ruin held unbounded sway, 
 
 And darkness o'er his kingdom lay, 
 
 And some, with reverent soul attent 
 
 To every heavenly message sent, 
 
 Gave earnest heed and steered aright, 
 
 Through rocks and whirlpools, storm and night; 
 
 But many floated down the tide, 
 
 Unheeding every heavenly guide ; 
 
 And, dread as might the danger seem, 
 
 They held their warnings as a dream. 
 
 And, though neglecting chart and helm, 
 
 Still hoped to reach that goodly realm. 
 
THE TWO CROWNS. 
 
 In vision fair I saw a throne, 
 So lofty that the form thereon 
 
 Seemed unapproachable ; 
 Her lineaments I could not trace, 
 For incense rose before her face, 
 
 And wrapped her as a veil. 
 
 2. 
 
 But through the gloom, like stars at night, 
 Shone forth a diadem of light. 
 
 Whose glory seemed divine ; 
 And ever, in her shadowy hand, 
 She waved it o'er the kneeling band 
 
 That worshipped at her shrine. 
 
 3- 
 
 I saw a youth amid the throng, 
 With harp attuned to lofty song. 
 
 Whose hopes to her were given ; 
 I saw him bend before her there. 
 And pour his soul in humble prayer, 
 
 As to the God of Heaven. 
 
 4- 
 And, step by step, he climbed alone, 
 E'en to the footstool of the throne. 
 
 And, kneeling, claimed the prize ; 
 While every eye was on him bent. 
 And all their thrilling voices blent, 
 
 Ascended to the skies. 
 
 5- 
 Then, as the echoes fainter grew, 
 The victor rose before my view. 
 
 And Fame's high gift was seen ; 
 No radiant crown of glory now, 
 But, fitter for that burning brow, 
 
 A simple wreath of green. 
 
124 THE TWO CROWNS. 
 
 6. 
 
 And yet, I, in his flaming eye 
 Could read of aspirations high, 
 
 Which from this height looked up ; 
 I saw earth's plaudit's had no power 
 To soothe his heart, in that dark hour 
 
 Of disappointed hope. 
 
 7. 
 What was that fading wreath to him, 
 Who sought a deathless crown to Man, 
 
 But bitterest mockery ! 
 As flowers of night in sunshine bow, 
 E'en now, around his ardent brow. 
 
 Its leaves hung wither ingly. 
 
 His wakened soul had burst its chain, 
 And spread its broad wings, not in vain, 
 
 A loftier height to win ; 
 And now, before his clearer view, 
 Earth's glory faded, and the true, 
 
 Eternal light broke in. 
 
 9- 
 
 He sat upon the throne Math Fame, 
 And heard the nations praise his name, 
 
 And wore the laureate's crown ; 
 Yet his high soul the homage spurned. 
 And from Fame's wildering smile he turned. 
 
 And cast her laurel down. 
 
 10. 
 
 I saw him once again. Serene 
 He stood above life's stormy scene. 
 
 With victory on his brow. 
 A holier struggle, bravely passed, 
 Had M^on the long-sought prize at last. 
 
 And glory crowned him now. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 A maiden stood upon the shore, 
 And gazed across the sea, 
 
 Where many a gallant bark was seen 
 With pennon floating free. 
 
 With anxious thought her eyes were ben 
 
 Upon the dark blue wave. 
 And many a keen and searching glance 
 
 Unto the barks she gave. 
 
 3. 
 
 For treasures rare that maiden bore, 
 
 Entrusted to her hand 
 By One who, on a distant shore, 
 
 Would sternly all demand, 
 
 And now, from out that noble throng, 
 
 All seeming firm as fair. 
 One must be chosen, o'er the deep 
 
 Herself and gems to bear. 
 
 5- 
 Then many a goodly ship advanced 
 
 And stood beside the pier. 
 And many a fair commander said — 
 " Embark thy treasure here ! " 
 
 6. 
 
 But of her trust the maiden thought, 
 
 And of the distant shore. 
 And of the dark and fearful wreck 
 
 Amid the breakers' roar. 
 
126 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 7. 
 And still, though earnest vows were breathed, 
 
 And strong assurance given 
 Of safety on the perilous track, 
 
 And rest in promised haven ; 
 
 By long delay she strove to make 
 
 A wise election sure, 
 And chose, at last, that strength of build 
 
 Which longest might endure. 
 
 With favoring gales, o'er glassy seas, 
 They blithely sped along ; 
 
 No Scylla, no Charybdis frowned, 
 Nor lured the Siren's song. 
 
 But soon the Captain's mien was changed, 
 
 For madness filled his heart ; 
 The compass in the sea he threw, 
 
 Nor heeded map or chart. 
 
 "That superstitious faith," he said, 
 
 " Which, trusting blindly, bold 
 
 Will cling to a mysterious guide 
 
 He would no longer hold ! ' 
 
 He did not see the dangerous reefs 
 Each moment nearer draw ; 
 
 But terror filled the lady's heart, 
 For no escape she saw. 
 
 13. 
 
 They passed, indeed, a dreary isle, 
 Where once she thought to land. 
 
 But shrunk with loathing from its face 
 Of bare and burning sand. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 127 
 
 14. 
 
 And then, because the sea was calm, 
 
 With deadliest peril near, 
 She daily marked their dangerous course 
 
 With daily lessening fear, 
 
 15. 
 
 But clouds were gathering on the sky. 
 
 And soon the stars were veiled ; 
 And, guideless, on an unknown sea. 
 
 The Captain's skill had failed, 
 
 16. 
 
 Then helpless, driven by adverse winds. 
 
 The doomed ship floated on; 
 And anguish filled the hearts on board — 
 
 For hope's last light was gone. 
 
 17. 
 
 She struck ! and wild and dark the scene, 
 
 And, " Lost ! " the thrilling cry ; 
 Then streaming eyes were raised to Heaven, 
 
 Hands wrung in agony. 
 
 But strong and swift the rush of waves. 
 And dark the tempest's frown; 
 
 And soon, with all her precious freight. 
 The helpless wreck went down. 
 
THE SPIRITUAL VOYAGE. 
 
 Against a mighty stream, and dark, 
 With feeble arm, in fragile barque, 
 Alone I strove ; for visions bright, 
 Which thrilled my spirit with delight — 
 Of glorious forms, whose tones were love. 
 Whose joys all human thought above — 
 Adown the stream had often come, 
 And won my soul to seek their home. 
 
 And more than this — the mandate high, 
 Of One who claimed infinity, 
 Had bid me leave my native land, 
 Whose strongest towers were built on sand, 
 And seek 'neath other skies a home 
 Before the storm of wrath should come. 
 Whose course of fury none could stay, 
 But wreck and ruin mark its sway. 
 
 With earnest hope I plied the oar. 
 
 To gain that beatific shore. 
 
 But all in vain — the waves, in pride, 
 
 My utmost effort still defied, 
 
 And mocked my weakness, till, at length, 
 
 O'ermastered by superior strength, 
 
 I dropped the ineffectual oar. 
 
 In baffled hope, to strive no more. 
 
 Now swiftly down the raging flood, 
 'Mid night' and storm, I wildly rode; 
 The darkness deepened as I went — 
 The stars fled from the firmament — 
 The visions from the blissful shore 
 Around me shed their light no more. 
 But mournful sounds of grief and woe 
 Came rolling from the gloom below. 
 
 With sudden fear my heart was filled ; 
 The current of my life was chilled. 
 I dared not look before to see 
 The fearful doom awaiting me, 
 
THE SPIRITUAL VOYAGE. 129 
 
 But closed my eyes and downward sunk, 
 And still my heart with terror shrunk, 
 Till o'er my soul dread slumber came, 
 And bound me as an iron chain. 
 
 As thus my barque to ruin rushed, 
 One instant all the strife was hushed, 
 And on my soul, amid that calm, 
 A voice was poured like heavenly balm 
 "Return ! " the blessed spirit said. 
 And, instantly, my slumbers fled, 
 
 I rose and quickly grasped the oar, 
 
 But wiser than I was before : 
 "Oh ! not in vain, my God !" I cried, 
 " Have I my spirit's weakness tried ; 
 
 My hand can never bear my barque 
 
 Against this flood, so strong and dark !" 
 
 In deep humility I prayed 
 To Him, the Almighty One, for aid. 
 And vowed that in His only might. 
 And guided only by His light, 
 I would, with confidence, again 
 Attempt that dangerous stream to stem- 
 Outshone the stars upon my way, 
 The breeze came on in gentle play, 
 And lightly o'er the waves I sped. 
 While heavenly dews were on me shed ; 
 My soul with secret gladness thrilled, 
 And love and praise my bosom filled, 
 
 Now, far along before my view, 
 The Tree of Life its branches threw ; 
 And voices from the blessed land 
 Were wafted by the breezes bland ; 
 And Hope her heavenly anthem sung, 
 And round my barque the echoes rung. 
 
FANCIFUL ORIGIN OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 I. 
 
 Ere yet the glorious host of Night 
 
 Had crossed the western bar, 
 The King of Day, in power and pride. 
 
 Pursued them from afar. 
 
 2. 
 
 But when the orient gates, thrown wide, 
 
 His onward path revealed. 
 Not one lone, lingering star was left 
 
 Upon the azure field. 
 
 3. 
 
 And all along the distant west. 
 
 Hung to conceal their flight, 
 A dark, impenetrable cloud 
 
 Met the stern warrior's sight, 
 
 ^ 4. 
 
 Amazed and foiled, but dauntless still. 
 
 O'er that wild solitude. 
 The warrior monarch, fierce and swift. 
 The flying host pursued. 
 
 5- 
 But speed was vain 'gainst equal speed. 
 
 And power by distance vain j 
 He saw by artifice alone 
 
 He must his purpose gain. 
 
 Then, all enwrapped in sable state. 
 He, with his orby shield. 
 
 The fearful brightness of his face 
 And shining arms concealed, 
 
 7- 
 
 Unknown, undreaded, then he sped 
 
 In darkness on his way, 
 Until he reached the cloudy bourne 
 
 That marked the realm of Day. 
 
FANCIFUL ORIGIN OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 131 
 
 A rent in that dark curtain found 
 
 A glorious scene revealed, 
 Where Night with all his glittering host 
 
 Emblazed the sable field. 
 
 9- 
 
 And near, almost within his grasp, 
 The royal tents were spread ; 
 
 Where, dreaming not of danger near, 
 Reposed each weary head. 
 
 With sudden onset, fierce and fast, 
 His fiery darts he hurled. 
 
 And soon, above a conquered field, 
 His blazing flag unfurled. 
 
 Then royal knees were lowly bent, 
 And royal heads discrowned ; 
 
 The conqueror led his captive train 
 In golden fetters bound. 
 
 But when the brilliant cortege reached 
 
 His own imperial throne, 
 The cry for vengeance in his heart 
 
 Assumed a milder tone. 
 
 13- 
 
 As treahiient harsh of conquered foe 
 Would his own glory dim. 
 
 The conqueror gave to each a realm, 
 But subject all to him. 
 
 14. 
 
 Fair Venus near himself he placed. 
 On sapphire throne, and set 
 
 Upon her proud and beauteous brow 
 A glittering coronet. 
 
132 FANCIFUL ORIGIN OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 15. 
 
 Then Terra swayed a region wide. 
 
 And Dian, chaste and bright 
 As Maid of Honor, held her train, 
 
 And trimmed her lamp by night, 
 
 16. 
 
 The warlike Mars, but half subdued, 
 
 And from his Venus far. 
 Around an ample kingdom rolled, 
 
 Upon his fiery car. 
 
 17. 
 
 But Jupiter was mightiest far. 
 
 And throned in highest state ; 
 Scarce dimmer seemed his glorious crown 
 
 Than that he wore of late. 
 
 Between his territory vast 
 
 And that of Mars there lay 
 A border-land o'er which a tribe 
 
 Of womankind held sway. 
 
 19. 
 There Juno ruled her banished court, 
 
 And Vesta trimmed her fire ; 
 There nymphs and muses gaily danced, 
 
 Or struck the sounding lyre. 
 
 Swift Mercury the conqueror held 
 
 At hand to do his will ; 
 But Saturn's realm was distant far, 
 
 And Neptune's farther still. 
 
 21. 
 
 But space would fail to tell the tale 
 Of all those stars of light ; 
 
 But thus it came the King of Day 
 Now rules the sons of Night. 
 
THE YEARS. 
 
 I see them on their solemn march, 
 Mysterious and sublime, 
 
 Across the gray, stupendous arch 
 That spans the gulf of Time. 
 
 Majestic, strong, with measured tread, 
 
 Their line unbroken still. 
 With sceptred hand and crowned head, 
 
 Unmoved by human will. 
 
 They come and go. Uncalled they come, 
 
 Irrevocable go. 
 And, passing, each presents a cup 
 
 Of mingled joy and woe. 
 
 And yet, so slightly mixed the draught 
 Which every lip must press. 
 
 That misery oft alone is quaffed 
 In all its bitterness. 
 
 5. 
 And some, though few, there be to whom 
 
 The joy unmixed is given. 
 Who dwell in love, and light, and bloom 
 
 As in the air of heaven ! 
 
 6. 
 
 Each carries in his hand a scroll, 
 And writes effaceless there 
 
 The record of each human soul, 
 Impartial, dark or fair. 
 
134 THE YEARS. 
 
 7- 
 Each rules a mighty realm, and thence 
 
 Exhaustless tribute draws, 
 Which back returns with usury vast. 
 
 By Time's unerring laws. 
 
 8. 
 
 They walk in growing light, and shower 
 
 Increasing treasures down ; 
 Each sceptre shows advance of power. 
 
 And each successive crown. 
 
 9- 
 
 But whether dark or bright they pass. 
 We know of them no more. 
 
 No voice comes back to say their feet 
 Have passed the cloud-veiled shore. 
 
 Ah, precious years ! how few we greet ! 
 
 How brief their blessed stay ! 
 But still they speak with warning voice 
 
 While passing swift away. 
 
 By tantalizing hopes that lure. 
 By disappointment's sting. 
 
 They bid us find some anchorage sure 
 To which our hope may cling. 
 
 12. 
 
 By scenes unfixed as ocean's foam, 
 By joys that come no more, 
 
 They point us to a changeless home 
 On Heaven's eternal shore. 
 
LIFE AND THE BOY. 
 
 Through all the sunny days of childhood they played together, and 
 the boy loved his companion for her joyousness, for no shadow ever 
 darkened her brow, no tear ever dimmed the lustre of her glorious 
 eyes. Thus years passed by, and the ties that bound them grew 
 stronger and stronger. 
 
 Maturer grace continually stole over the young form of Life, while, 
 careless as the birds of Spring, she still warbled her matin song. 
 
 But one day she came to the boy with a very earnest countenance, 
 and, taking his hand in hers, sat down by his side, and the boy's own 
 heart grew serious and almost sad as he gazed into her face with 
 thoughtful eyes. Then she told him that, in the great world, there were 
 millions of hearts aching with sorrows too great to be told ; and num- 
 berless brows, throbbing with pain, that had no pillow on which to 
 rest; and homeless children, with no father or mother to comfort 
 them ; and that, all over the broad earth, there were men who had lost 
 the sunlit path of happiness, and were wandering in dark and winding 
 ways, beset with snares and pits, going down through misery to ever- 
 lasting death. 
 
 Tears gathered in the eyes of the boy, as he listened to the words of 
 Life ; and his heart was filled with sorrow, because the world was so 
 full of misei-y ; and he wondered if there was no remedy for its evils, 
 
 "Yes," said Life, "there is a remedy. For this very purpose the 
 universal Father has bound his earthly children into one great brother- 
 hood ; that the powerful may shield the defenseless, the strong, uphold 
 the weak, and the wise direct the erring; and every one who has a 
 single blessing is bound by this great law of humanity to share it with 
 another." 
 
 "Then," said the boy, "it is time for me to be up and doing. Give 
 me thy hand in earnest, and let us go forth to fulfill our destiny. I 
 have blessings enough to scatter on every side, as I go; and, oh, how 
 happy I shall be to see the tears dried up, and the darkness dispelled, 
 the aching brows made easy, and the broken hearts bound up ! Let 
 me go now — I will rest no more till I have accomplished my mission." 
 
 That promise of his youth was kept; and every day Life grew more 
 beautiful, and dearer to his soul, for she led him, continually, to new 
 and higher degrees of happiness. He walked in light; and you might 
 trace his path, as you can trace a river's course through the forest, by 
 the fresher verdure and the loftier growth. "When the ear heard hiin 
 then it blessed him; and when the eye saw him it gave witness to him; 
 because he delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him 
 that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to 
 
136 LIFE AND THE BOY. 
 
 perish came upon him; and he caused the widow's heart to sing for 
 joy." 
 
 But his mission was soon fulfilled. One day Life came to him with 
 tearful eyes, and said : " We must part now. I have led thee through 
 many scenes, and thou hast known my worth, and hast not lightly es- 
 teemed me ; but thou art now prepared for a higher world, and I am 
 confined to this. I see thy heart is filled with sorrow, and it was the 
 fear of this that has made me sad," 
 
 " How can I part from thee ?" exclaimed the youth. " What shall 
 I do without thee in that unknown world?" 
 
 " I have a sister," replied Life, " infinitely fairer than I, whose name 
 is Immortality; she will be thy companion in that glorious realm. 
 Thou wilt love her more than thou hast ever loved me, and thou shalt 
 never endure the pang of saying to her ' Farewell !' " 
 
 But the soul of the youth still clung to the companion of his former 
 years; and, when Life gave her parting kiss, his heart was wrung with 
 agony, and he turned away to conceal his tears. At that moment he 
 caught a glimpse of the fair face of Immortality, who had come to 
 meet him ; and, so like her sister did she seem, yet so much more 
 beautiful, so angelic in her face and bearing, that all his love for Life, 
 sublimed and intensified, was transferred to her. A bright smile 
 wreathed his lips, and joy unvitterable lighted up the depths of his 
 dark eyes, which looked back no more, until, with his beatific com- 
 panion, he entered the gates of the Celestial City, to go out no more 
 forever. 
 
THE COUSINS. 
 
 Maud and Blanche were high-born maidens, 
 
 Young and wondrous fair ; 
 Maud, a blonde of sunlight beauty, 
 Blanche, with raven hair. 
 
 Loving so that naught could sever, 
 
 Counterparts were they ; 
 Charming all (though rivals never) 
 
 Each in different way. 
 
 Blanche, a sculptor's finest model. 
 
 Found in moments rare ; 
 Maud, a painter's di-eam of beauty, 
 
 Floating in the air. 
 
 Lady Blanche was like the diamond — 
 
 Facial, sharp and bright ; 
 Lady Maud, a dew-drop trembling 
 
 In the morning light. 
 
 Soft and plastic in her temper, 
 
 Finely rounded still ; 
 Gently yielding to the pressure 
 
 Of a stronger will. 
 
 Lady Blanche was will incarnate ; 
 
 Yet so sweet her mien, 
 Like the sun's, her sceptre only 
 
 In effect was seen. 
 
 Ample revenues were Blanche's — 
 
 Acres broad and fair; 
 Maud was dowered alone with beauty, 
 
 And her virtues rare. 
 
 Lady Blanche had many lovers — 
 
 Lords of high degree ; 
 Maud had only one — a noble. 
 
 Of God's making, he. 
 
 6* 
 
138 THE COUSINS. 
 
 Loving, and oh ! true and gentle 
 
 As a knight of old. 
 More to Maud was his devotion 
 
 Than earth's mines of gold. 
 
 With a rosy flush suffusing 
 
 Pearly cheek and brow^, 
 Timidly to Blanche she whispered 
 
 Of a lover's vow. 
 
 Vows of love to Blanche were trifles ; 
 
 For her heart, as yet, 
 Lay as calm as pearls in ocean, 
 
 Though so fierce beset. 
 
 But her sight was keen and piercing ; 
 
 And she fathomed well 
 Maud's clear heart, and knew the secrets 
 
 Of its deepest cell. 
 
 Knew the consecrated image 
 
 Fondly there enshrined : 
 Saw the incense ever burning 
 
 In that cell confined. 
 
 And she purposed firm that sacred 
 
 Idol to dethrone; 
 Not from zeal iconoclastic, 
 
 But from pride alone. 
 
 Brightly smiled she on the maiden, 
 
 Lightly kissed her cheek ; 
 'And you come, my gentle novice. 
 With confession meek, 
 
 •' Seeking from your world-wise cousin ■- 
 Skill in that fine art, 
 That can crush his aspirations 
 And not crush his heart?" 
 
 ■* Blanche ! " " Be still, my gentle cousin ! 
 You that art shall learn ; 
 Though the daring youth's presumption 
 Merits harsh return." 
 
THE COUSINS. 139 
 
 " Daring ! Edward's blood is gentle," 
 " Far beneath our own. 
 Ours the proudest in the kingdom, 
 Scarce below the throne." 
 
 *' Blanche, I am not Edward's equal ; 
 That is all I fear. ^ 
 
 To the proudest lord in England 
 He is more than peer." 
 
 " Maud, you know my father rather 
 Would behold you dead, 
 Than that you should love so lowly 
 That you dare not wed." 
 
 "But if I should daxQ'>''^ "Then ruin, 
 Swift, remediless, 
 Hurls you from your high-born station — 
 Brands you with disgrace ! 
 
 " But, oh, Maud ! you would not, surely, 
 Fi-om your kindred part ; 
 Breaking social ties and customs — 
 Better break his heart." 
 
 " But I love him, Maud ! and breaking 
 His I crush my own ; 
 How can social ties or kindred 
 For my loss atone?" 
 
 * * When the tree of love is budding, 
 Ere its leaves are green — 
 Ere by shower and sunbeam nourished 
 Its young life hath been — 
 
 " Then the wild bee's touch might wring the 
 Buds from off the tree; 
 As the swallow's wing can break the 
 Bubbles on the sea.' " 
 
 Yes, * but when its leaves have found a 
 
 Home in the free air. 
 Pluck them, and a wound remaining 
 
 Ever rankles there. 
 
14a THE COUSINS. 
 
 * Blight of hope and happiness is 
 
 Felt when fond ones part ; 
 
 And the tear that follows is the 
 
 Life-blood of the heart.' " 
 
 ' Maud, let noble pride reclaim you 
 
 From this wayward mood." 
 ■ Pride of birth ! O, vampyre, feeding 
 
 On my heart's warm blood !" 
 
 Thus they parted — Blanche not doubting 
 
 Of complete success, 
 Then she saw the soft heart writhing 
 
 In its bitterness. 
 
 Maud, surprised, amazed, indignant; 
 
 Full of high resolve 
 That the snare of pride should never 
 
 Her true heart involve. 
 
 Maud was proud of Edward's homage; 
 
 And her heart was wrung. 
 Where she rather should be envied. 
 
 Thus to have been stung. 
 
 And that Blanche, her friend and equal, 
 
 Should her love restrict ! 
 Then she found that hands the dearest 
 
 Deepest wounds inflict. 
 
 But she would not yield — no never ! 
 
 Woman's dearest right ; 
 Her no human power should sever 
 
 From her own true knight. 
 
 Yet, there rose within a feeling 
 
 Which, though disallowed, 
 Shrank from scorn of condescension 
 
 From her kindred proud. 
 
 And, by subtle arts of Blanche's — 
 
 Edward far away — 
 Maud was conscious that his glory 
 
 Faded ray by ray. 
 
THE COUSINS. 141 
 
 Yet, she clung to him, her idol, 
 
 With despairing clasp. 
 As one clings to drifting ice-floe, 
 
 Melting in his grasp; 
 
 Till, when home returned, the lover 
 
 Pressed his suit again ; 
 To her own surprise she told him 
 
 That his love was vain. 
 
 She, the world's false code rejecting, 
 
 By that code was swayed ; 
 She, her right of will asserting. 
 
 Others' will obeyed. 
 
 Though no other love,. forever, 
 
 Could her true heart fill ; 
 Though broad earth held not his equal, 
 
 She renounced him still. 
 
 Struck as by a flash of lightning ; 
 
 Startled, stunned, amazed ; 
 On her blushing face a moment, 
 
 Edward mutely gazed. 
 
 Then the crimson tide retreating 
 
 From his lofty brow, 
 Calm and pale he rose and left her 
 
 With a silent bow. 
 
 All was o'er ; and Maud was conscious 
 
 Nought could e'er erase 
 From her heart the graven image 
 
 Of that anguished face. 
 
 And she, when it from her presence 
 
 Passed with wordless lips. 
 Felt the coldness and the darkness 
 
 Of a great eclipse. 
 
 Lady Blanche was very gentle 
 
 To the wounded heart ; 
 Pitying, though not comprehending 
 
 Its unceasing smart. 
 
142 THE COUSINS. 
 
 Till immedicable finding 
 Wounds beyond her skill, 
 
 Oil and balm of worldly comfort 
 Wasting on them still. 
 
 Maud, like other gentle natures, 
 Stung and wounded here, 
 
 Turned for help in helpless sorrow 
 To a higher sphere. 
 
 Ah ! the mercy of our Father — 
 That, in earth's despair. 
 
 Hearts, that here can find no refuge, 
 Find it ever there. 
 
 But she faded as a flowret. 
 
 Softly, day by day ; 
 Sweetly, as the flower in fragrance 
 
 Breathes its life away ; 
 
 As the lake's dark bosom, heaving 
 'Neath unlooked-for storm; 
 
 Peaceful images all broken. 
 Mixed, and void of form — 
 
 Edward Erston's heart, so tranquil 
 
 In its wonted mood, 
 Passion-swept, in dark confusion, 
 
 Long the storm withstood. 
 
 But it passed ; and calmer, stronger, 
 
 Nobler than before, 
 Firm he trod his shadowed pathway. 
 
 Looking back no more. 
 
 As the planet, clear and steady, 
 
 Does its course fulfill ; 
 Swerving not, in duty's orbit. 
 
 On he glided still. 
 
 Laboring for the good of others. 
 
 Not his own he sought ; 
 To a noble cause devoting 
 
 Power, and means, and thought. 
 
THE COUSINS. 143 
 
 None knew in his heart that, buried, 
 
 Love dispelled its gloom, 
 As the lamp that ever burneth 
 
 In some ancient tomb. 
 
 It was night — and Maud lay dying. 
 
 Through the silent room 
 Violets, in the open window, 
 
 Wafted sweet perfume. 
 
 And the light that, softly tinted, 
 Filled the spacious place. 
 
 Half concealed the ghastly paleness 
 Of the wasted face. 
 
 Blanche, as wont, beside her sitting, 
 
 Faithful watch to keep. 
 Held her hand, and knew she did not. 
 
 Though she seemed to, sleep. 
 
 Knew her ear, alert, expectant. 
 
 Caught the faintest sound ; 
 Listening for a step, yet fearing 
 
 Its familiar bound. 
 
 Clear and strong, amid the silence. 
 
 Tolling forth the hour. 
 Came the solemn voice of iron 
 
 From the distant tower. 
 
 Maud unclosed her eyes and whispered, 
 
 " He should now be here. 
 "Where is uncle ? " " Gone to meet him 
 
 They are, doubtless, near." 
 
 Blanche, herself, alarmed and anxious. 
 
 Suffered scarcely less ; 
 Though beneath a calm exterior 
 
 Hiding her distress. 
 
 For she knew that dire disaster 
 
 Had the train delayed ; 
 And that, for the dead and wounded. 
 
 Calls had come for aid. 
 
144 THE COUSINS. 
 
 Knew that Maud had sent for Edward, 
 Ere her breath should cease, 
 
 That her soul, with his forgiveness, 
 Might depart in peace. 
 
 And if, either dead or dying, 
 He should here be brought, 
 
 Maud must know, and oh ! she shuddered, 
 Shrinking from the thought. 
 
 Suddenly Maud's chilly fingers 
 
 Tightly clasped her own ; 
 And she spoke, with eyes wide flashing. 
 
 In excited tone : 
 
 "Listen, Blanche !" and softened voices, 
 
 Heavy steps, and slow. 
 As of men a burden bearing, 
 
 Sounded from below. 
 
 Blanche, her hand from Maud's withdrawing, 
 
 Lest its sudden thrill 
 Should betray her agitation, 
 
 Sat beside her still. 
 
 Presently, her father's footsteps 
 
 Heard she on the stair ; 
 And the earl, a moment after, 
 
 Stood before them there. 
 
 Maud, my child, be very quiet, 
 
 Erston waits below ; 
 Eager now to come and see you — 
 
 Waits your will to know. 
 
 " You are weak to-night, my darling ; 
 
 Would you rather wait? " 
 " No, dear uncle, in the morning, 
 
 It may be too late." 
 
 Then he marked the change, with sadness, 
 Which an hour had wrought. 
 " As you will — it may be better — 
 He shall now be brought." 
 
THE COUSINS. 145 
 
 Brought ? " " Yes ; by some chance untoward, 
 
 He has suffered harm ; 
 Injured, not, I trust, severely. 
 
 Both in foot and arm." 
 
 Then he left the solemn chamber. 
 
 With that awful fear 
 Which the bravest hearts acknowledge 
 
 That grim phantom near. 
 
 Soon, again, upon the stairway 
 
 Muffled steps were heard ; 
 And Maud laid her hand in Blanche's, 
 
 But essayed no word. 
 
 At the door the litter halted ; 
 
 And the dying girl 
 Saw her pallid lover enter. 
 
 Leaning on the earl. 
 
 Saw that he, with painful effort, 
 
 Strove his pain to hide ; 
 Strove to keep his stately bearing. 
 
 More from love than pride. 
 
 Strove to cross the spacious chamber 
 Ere his strength should fail ; 
 
 Sank within a chair beside her, 
 Speechless, faint and pale. 
 
 Back against the crimson cushion 
 
 Leaned the noble head ; 
 White and still the marble features. 
 
 As if life had fled. 
 
 Blanche, who had, of late, not seldom 
 
 Felt remorse's fang. 
 Now marked Edward's wasted beauty 
 
 With a silent pang. 
 
 But on dying Maud what anguish 
 
 Fell her joy to blight, 
 Seeing how had loved and suffered 
 
 Her own peerless knight. 
 
146 THE COUSINS. 
 
 Ah ! if death her fault could cancel- 
 Could its fruits destroy — 
 
 Happiness restore to Edward — 
 She could die with joy. 
 
 Then the sweet, sad eyes were opened 
 
 With a weary sigh ; 
 Fixed their gaze on Maud's, and lingered 
 
 Oh ! so tenderly. 
 
 And she : " I have wronged you, Edward ; 
 
 Yet, I pray forgive ! 
 Dying, ask I what I would not 
 
 If I still might live." 
 
 Infinite the love and pity 
 
 In his eyes that shone ; 
 Fathomless the solemn pathos 
 
 Thrilling through his tone. 
 
 " Maud, my love is dead and buried. 
 
 Die you now, or live. 
 As I hope for Heaven's mercy, 
 
 Freely I forgive." 
 
 " Edward, I have loved you only — 
 
 Loved through good and ill, 
 Though I wronged you, 'twas my weakness, 
 
 Not, oh ! not my will. 
 
 Now my young life pays the forfeit — 
 
 But, without regret — 
 E'en with joy, if I I could only 
 
 Know you love me yet." 
 
 Brokenly and slowly spoke she ; 
 
 Faint, with failing breath ; 
 But her yearning love, a moment, 
 
 Held her back from death. 
 
 As the sun thro' storm-clouds bi-eaking. 
 
 Spite of mortal pain 
 E'en so Edward's face, now radiant, 
 
 Beamed on her again. 
 
THE COUSINS. 147 
 
 'Twas no base, inglorious triumph 
 
 Such deep joy expressed; 
 Kindled so the dark eyes' splendor, 
 
 Heaved the noble breast. 
 
 O'er his fair youth's desolation — 
 
 O'er pride's bitter slight — 
 O'er his great love's non-requital — 
 
 O'er his heart's dark blight — 
 
 Victor rose he in the presence 
 
 Of the haughty earl ; 
 Yet regarding, seeing nothing 
 
 Save that dying girl. 
 
 'Love you? oh! my precious darling! 
 
 Still, as through the past, 
 With a love unchanging, deathless, 
 
 Love I to the last." 
 
 With a smile, her eyes uiDlifted, 
 
 Looked not back again. 
 Faint her " Lord receive my spirit," 
 
 Strong his deep "Amen." 
 
 Then the eyes were closed, and gently 
 
 Maud, in mute farewell, 
 Pressed her uncle's hand and Blanche's, 
 
 And the shadow fell. 
 
 Seemed a void within the chamber, 
 When that soul had passed ; 
 
 And a great regret and yearning 
 On their hearts it cast. 
 
 Failing, then, the strength fictitious, 
 
 Which had borne so well, 
 All his suffering frame exhausted, 
 
 Erston, fainting, fell.