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COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 
 A P O E JVC I 
 
 B ¥■ 
 
 J. G. SPENCEfl. 
 
 33 
 
 
 RUTLAND, 7T.: 
 The Tuttlb Company, Printeks. 
 
 1889. 
 
7^2814 
 .5? 
 
 Copyrighted 1889, by 
 JESSE G. SPENCER 
 
COSMOPOLITAN lA. 
 
 CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 Once on a time in years gone by, 
 
 In spring I have heard said, 
 Three strangers at a German inn, 
 
 For rest their footsteps led. 
 
 *'And they, all three are travelers 
 
 Set out to see the world," 
 So said the keeper of the inn. 
 
 As he his tongue unfurled. 
 
 And so they were — three travelers : 
 
 From divers ways they came, 
 To see the beauties of the Earth, 
 
 And places great in fame. 
 
 Next day the three quite early 'rose, 
 
 To see the bright sun rise. 
 But e'er it did a rain set in, 
 
 Much to the three's surprise; 
 
 ^'Why! why!" said one, "It seems quite 
 strange, 
 
 For water to fall here ; 
 I always thought that in this land 
 
 From sky, naught fell but beer. " 
 
COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ''Stay, stay, dear sirs, don't think us fools," 
 
 The jolly host loud bloats, 
 " But, if I'm paid, from out the sky, 
 
 I'll rain beer down your throats." 
 
 The travelers laughed and took the hint : 
 
 "A quart a piece, ahay! " 
 Which being brought they quaffed and sang,. 
 
 And whiled the morn away. 
 
 That afternoon the three were left 
 
 Alone the time to spend; 
 They played at chess and ombre too. 
 
 But eve, their games did end. 
 
 They supper ate then gathered 'round 
 
 The fireside's cheery glow ; 
 The night was dark, the rain still fell^ 
 
 The wind with rage did blow. 
 
 One traveler to the others said : 
 
 ' ' Now that we are alone. 
 Say we unfold our histories. 
 
 Our aim — what each hath done." 
 
 "Good, good," the other two replied, 
 
 "A plan proposed quite well." 
 Each nearer to the fireside drew. 
 
 To listen and to tell. 
 
 The one who first the plan made known. 
 
 His story did commence. 
 But (as it lasted nigh till morn) 
 
 His tale I will condense ; 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 He said he was a Spanish prince, 
 
 Arcartez was his name, 
 Through blood and wars he led his life 
 
 — At last his downfall came; 
 
 But though dethroned, much wealth had he, 
 
 And meant to spend it well. 
 By travelling through the famous lands, 
 
 Which histories do tell. 
 
 Next day and eve were rainy still ; 
 
 The second his tale told, 
 When all were gathered round the hearth 
 
 Quite free from wet and cold ; 
 
 He said his name was Murat, 
 
 And from France he first did come, 
 
 '" Though he'd lived his life in Athens, 
 V/hich he ever called his home ; 
 
 When a child he had been stolen, 
 
 From his father's tender care. 
 By a band of roving pirates, 
 
 — Forced to breathe their island air ; 
 
 But at last these thieves were captured 
 And young Murat (he was ten) 
 
 By a Grecian was adopted, 
 
 For his parents dead were then ; 
 
 And so thus he lived in Athens 
 Till the age of twenty-two 
 -Then he made his mind to journey 
 All the famous countries through. 
 
COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 And here ended Mnrat's story ; 
 
 And so then began the third, 
 (Who, by the way, seemed jolly) 
 
 And this the others heard : 
 
 ' ' I am, dear sirs — aha — ha — he ! 
 
 A king — aha — ha — ho ! 
 A king, my friends, as I have said, 
 
 A-traveling would I go — " 
 
 " What, you a king," Arcartez quoth.. 
 
 "Of course," the other said, 
 (He here suppressed some laughing,) 
 
 " Dost thou think I'm out my head?"' 
 
 " Nay, nay, my friend," Arcartez said, 
 
 " Have no such thoughts of us." 
 The other smiled and shouted out : 
 "Why then make such a fuss ?" 
 
 — The first two looked surprised — 
 
 "You say you are a prince. 
 And you a stolen Frenchman 
 
 — Ha! ha! pray how long since ! " 
 
 The others looked quite angry 
 
 At the actions of the last. 
 "Speak! speak!" quoth Murat, frowning,, 
 
 "Your history tell us — fast! " 
 
 "Now list then, worthy comrades. 
 
 If my story you would hear 
 — The one that is the richest 
 
 May treat us all to beer." 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 It was done — they drinking deeply, 
 
 Then the jolly one began, 
 In a voice quite loud and lusty. 
 
 Like a trumpet clear it rang : 
 
 ' ' My name " — then hesitating, 
 
 ' ' Is King Charles of Arragan, 
 But defeated in a battle 
 
 By King Frederic and his clan ; 
 
 ''Though by fortune quite unlucky 
 In my kingdom's state affairs. 
 
 Yet I'm rich — I own three gold mines, 
 Which all lie in torrid airs ; 
 
 "And although I can't be ruler. 
 
 In my country any more, 
 Yet I'm bound to see lands famous 
 
 And the world will travel o'er ; 
 
 ' ' Of the truth of this my story, 
 
 I, as witness, stand alone, 
 — Judge it kindly — " he burst 'laughing, 
 
 ''Please compare it w4th thine own." 
 
 "Jest thou?" quoth Arcartez smiling, 
 "Nay, my friend, I ne'er do such." 
 
 Murat then burst loud a-laughing, 
 
 "I'm 'fraid we all have said too^much." 
 
 "Nay," said Charles, "we know each other, 
 
 You a prince, and I, a king, 
 And this one a French-Athenian. 
 
 Ah! we form a merry ring." 
 
a COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ** Yea," continued Murat, rising, 
 "We are rich each one and all, 
 
 And we're traveling for our pleasure, 
 Start in Spring and end in Fall." 
 
 **Hear," quoth Charles in kingly manner, 
 ' ' Hold my slaves till I unfold 
 
 Schemes which in my mind are brewing, 
 And quite worthy to be told ; 
 
 ** Since we all are Marco Polos 
 — Cosmopolics — (to be plain,) 
 
 Why not journey all together — 
 
 More we'll see — it's just the same. " 
 
 — Loud and sharp Arcartez shouted, 
 Murat catching up the strain : 
 
 * ' Glorious ! Glorious ! grand proposal, 
 Worthy Charles of Arragan!" 
 
 Then the king continued gravely : 
 '* This occasion great and grand. 
 
 Must be washed with beer and sherry — 
 Slaves, obey the king's command!" 
 
 Need I say that they were filled 
 Up with beer till, running o'er, 
 
 — Of their senses not controlling — 
 In a heap fell to the floor ; 
 
 And the king thought he was warring 
 With great Frederic and his clan, 
 
 When, in truth, he was but beating 
 The inn's sofa to a jam. 
 
CANTO THE FIRST, 
 
 And bold Murat, in his fancy, 
 When into the fire he fell, 
 
 Was with miird'roiis pirates fighting, 
 Who on island shores did dwell. 
 
 Brave Arcartez was regaining 
 His lost throne in Spanish lands, 
 
 And was dancing on the table, 
 To the tunes of joyous bands. 
 
 A week passed by — the travelers 
 
 Were able to leave bed, 
 And walk about the inn-yard. 
 
 Though still weak about the head ; 
 
 Another week went slowly by 
 And better still they grew, 
 
 And one week more they are all right, 
 All cured completely through. 
 
 **I swear, I vow, I give mine oath," 
 Quoth Charles, "I'll not allow 
 
 Another drop of German beer, 
 Down my poor throat to flow ; 
 
 "And by the crown of Arragan, 
 
 And by it's sceptre too, 
 I swear I'll keep the oath I've made — 
 
 Good friends, see that I do." 
 
 '"By heaven!" shouted Murat loud, 
 
 ' ' I say the same as you ; 
 Germanic beer 's too much for me. 
 
 Keep watch of me — you two." 
 
lo COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Arcartez then his vow proclaimed 
 
 In words the very same — 
 The three then told their jolly host 
 
 In sentences quite plain. 
 
 The host then said quite slowl}^: 
 
 ''You should not blame the beer^ 
 If you drink with moderation 
 
 There is no need of fear." 
 
 With Aurora brightly shining 
 
 Our three travelers left the inn, 
 And a-fc^t with hearts quite cheery, 
 
 Made their way on to Berlin. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ H: ^ 
 
 Berlin's mass is all excitement, 
 
 Linden is with people filled, 
 All are clapping, all are shouting, 
 
 All are now with clamor thrilled ; 
 
 Near a statue in the Linden, 
 
 Stand three gazers whom we know; 
 Do you see them — there's Arcartez, 
 
 Murat, Charles in kingly show; 
 
 They look w^ell and happy — don't they?" ' 
 
 Murat has much taller grew 
 And Arcartez is more corpulent, 
 
 Charles is fatter through and through. 
 
 When the troops had disappeared 
 
 Down the city's noted way, 
 And the crowd was slow dispersing, 
 
 Murat then found time-to say: 
 
CANTO THE FTRST. it 
 
 "We have seen the German army, 
 
 Noted over all the world, 
 For its streng-th and men of stature, 
 
 When in war it's flag 's unfurled." 
 
 As they stood beneath the statne, 
 
 Murat talking history, 
 (By the way, he seemed informed 
 
 On all facts that tend that way), 
 
 Came a horseman — an official. 
 As his dress and sword did show. 
 
 And his steed for breath was panting 
 And its eyes with fire did glow ; 
 
 Lost his cap — the cavalier man's 
 
 Golden hair waved in the air. 
 And his face was strangely handsome^ 
 
 Perfect were his features, fair. 
 
 "Who is this man?" cried Arcartez; 
 
 They all looked but none could tell. 
 At that moment to the pavement 
 
 The horse stumbled, slipped and fell ; 
 
 The rider o'er its head went flying, 
 
 But with movement full of skill, 
 On his feet he struck quite safel}^. 
 
 Without scratch, without a sill. 
 
 Then with action quick as lightning 
 
 Darted he across the street, 
 — Down another — disappeared — 
 
 This was done with footsteps fleet. 
 
X2 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Quickly 'round the steed had gathered 
 
 People who did see it fall, 
 And of these were our three travelers 
 
 — Charles arriving first of all. 
 
 On the ground he saw a letter 
 — Quickly put it in his breast — 
 
 **I will see it," he said softly, 
 " When away from all the rest. " 
 
 The steed was dying and they noticed, 
 
 That the saddle, bridle — all, 
 Were with gold and silver mounted. 
 
 "This steed's master wealth can call." 
 
 *'Aye," said Murat, "By these trappings, 
 Ne'er a beggar this man was." 
 
 "Come," said Charles, "I found a letter 
 On this spot" — he then did pause. 
 
 "What — a letter!" quoth Arcartez. 
 
 "Yes— but wait till all alone." 
 "We're impatient, king," said Murat. 
 
 "Stop you fool — have done — have done." 
 
 When arrived at their lodgings, 
 Charles from out his pocket took, 
 
 With majestic air — the letter, 
 And read with inquiring look : 
 
 "Carl: on Wednesday evening meet me, 
 On the ground that thou hast named, 
 
 With thy sword for fight all ready. 
 Which in justice I have claimed ; 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. ij 
 
 *■ * Bring none with thee — I do likewise, 
 
 For our secret hatred's sake, 
 Which hath burned for years within us, 
 
 And will thine or my life take ; 
 
 ** Wednesday evening- have I chosen, 
 
 Do not fail, Carl, to be there ; 
 Fight we will, the moon our lamplight, 
 
 Encouraged by the evening air." 
 
 The letter ended — 'twas signed ** Hermann" 
 
 And was written with ink, red ; 
 The three friends with wonder gazed 
 
 At each other. Then Charles said : 
 
 "Here's a mystery to unravel 
 
 And friends we will do it, too. " 
 "True," quoth Murat, "since we're in it 
 
 We will, with it, go way through." 
 
 " 'Tis now Monday," said Arcartez, 
 
 ' ' Two days and a half have we. 
 To find out their place of meeting. 
 
 Friends, we must about it be." 
 
 "Thou art right," then said the others. 
 
 " Must we not inform the guard?" 
 "Nay," said Charles, "It is a hap'ning 
 
 In this land, that each day 's heard." 
 
 "And besides," Arcartez added, 
 
 "It is of our business none — 
 A matter 'tis that's all quite personal, 
 
 — We've no interest, all or one." 
 
14 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 -''Nay," said Charles, "I think that I have, 
 
 For this Carl, Arcartez, I 
 Would at least find who his foe is 
 
 Before I'll idly let him die. " 
 
 "So be it then my friend and patron. 
 
 Where you go I follow too, 
 "Though I think we'll get a hiding, 
 
 For this 'fair attending to." 
 
 And so each tried to discover 
 
 Who the duelists could be, 
 But directions were so scanty 
 
 None did it successfully. 
 
 Days passed on — 'twas Wednesday evening; 
 
 Our three friends thought 'twas in vain, 
 To pursue their searching farther, 
 
 For success not one could claim. 
 
 But that evening after supper, 
 A long stroll the three did take 
 
 Past the suburbs the city. 
 
 With the hopes that, by mistake, 
 
 They might meet the two combatants ; 
 
 "We will try, at least," quoth Charles, 
 " And behold which is most skillful 
 
 At his drawings, cuts and paries." 
 
 Soon they near a little river ; 
 
 Twilight shades were setting in. 
 When upon the dark horizon 
 
 'Rose fair Luna's silver rim ; 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 15 
 
 TJp she rises — slowly— grandly, 
 
 And her beams soft, shedding 'round 
 
 Gives distinction to the landscape 
 As they fall upon the ground. 
 
 ^' 'Tis an evening for the poet," 
 
 Whispered Murat with a smile, 
 "And enjoy it, to the fullest, 
 
 Say we sit down here a while. " 
 
 ' 'But, " said Charles, ' 'Thou art forgetting—" 
 
 "Nay, O King, 'tis not the case, 
 For I think that this our mission 
 
 Is naught but a wild goose chase." 
 
 "Hist— but hark!" Arcartez whispered, 
 — Sounds of footsteps do they hear — 
 
 "vStep aside," they then concealed them 
 'Mong some bushes growing near. 
 
 Nearer, nearer came the footsteps, 
 And a figure caught their sight — 
 
 "Ah," said Charles, "It is a woman." 
 "Strange," said Murat, "Here at night." 
 
 Advanced the woman and she murmured: 
 
 ' ' It is here they are to meet, 
 But thank God in time arriving, 
 
 I may Hermann's plans defeat." 
 
 Murat said: "Good chance is with us, 
 
 For I think I see it all—" 
 Then he added — "Friends, this woman 
 
 Is connected with our Carl." 
 
i6 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 ** Silence, hear!" Arcartez whispered. 
 
 And they heard the woman say : 
 "Carl! oh Carl, I'll die to save you," 
 
 With head bowed as if to pray. 
 
 "Friends," said Murat, "we will help her, 
 For I think foul play is here." 
 
 They then stepped from their concealment — 
 The lady gave a shriek of fear. 
 
 But Arcartez, with voice gentle, 
 
 Made her understand it all. 
 Told how Fate had led their footsteps. 
 
 To the help which she did call. 
 
 "Oh sirs," said she, "Can I thank you?" 
 "Wait," said Charles, "and tell us now. 
 
 Of fair Carl and of this meeting. " 
 To her low the three did bow. 
 
 * ' The duel which is to take place 
 
 Is in appearance fair, 
 But sirs why Carl needs your help 
 
 Is, treachery will be there. 
 
 "Carl an expert swordsman is. 
 
 His enemy knows it too. 
 And will, assassins with him bring. 
 
 To run my brave Carl through ; 
 
 ' This brave sirs the reason is 
 
 Why I, Theresa, came 
 To try and save my brother's life 
 And me you cannot blame." 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. ly 
 
 ''But what coiild'st thou do to these men?" 
 
 — Theresa, from her shawl 
 Drew out some pistols — loaded full, 
 
 They numbered four in all. 
 
 Arcartez smiled, and Murat said: 
 
 "Alone thou could'st do naught, 
 But heaven to you hath sent our aid, 
 
 We other times have fought." 
 
 "Yes, I was rash," Theresa said, 
 
 "To think that I, alone 
 Could save my brother's precious life, 
 
 — Thank heaven that you have come.'" 
 
 "I hear a neigh," Arcartez said, 
 
 "Back all, and out of sight." 
 They all withdrew. ' ' Another neigh I 
 
 Friends soon there'll be a fight. " 
 
 The words had scarce his lips escaped,, 
 
 When there rode full to view, 
 A dozen men ; dismount they did 
 
 And in a circle drew. 
 
 The leader spoke : ' ' Men out of sight,, 
 
 And when I whistle loud. 
 Approach and take the prisoner. 
 
 And bear him to St. Cloud ; 
 
 ' ' And there my castle's dungeon deep,. 
 
 Shall shut him from mankind." 
 His hand he waved — the men depart, 
 
 — The chief remains behind. 
 
i8 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 Then whispered low, Theresa fair : 
 
 (And most fair was she too) 
 * '• This man is Hermann of St. Cloud, 
 
 A villain through and through." 
 
 **Now hush!" said Charles, "Carl doth 
 appear." 
 
 A footstep plain is heard. 
 And from a shadow forth Carl comes, 
 
 With spirit quite unstirred. 
 
 " St. Cloud, thou'rt here on time I see," 
 " Yea," Hermann low replied. 
 
 "Prepare to fight — till death!" said Carl, 
 And drew's sword from his side. 
 
 Began the 'fray. The bright moon tinged 
 The steels with silver sparks 
 
 Which flew like lightning all around 
 And fell by mortal marks ! 
 
 The swords uplifted — each repelled 
 From reaching other's breast — 
 
 They clash — then fall — then rise aloft. 
 And pause as if to rest. 
 
 " Ah, Carl, thou'rt skilled I clearly see—" 
 ' ' And Hermann so art thou. 
 
 Or else thy blood had ceased its course. 
 And heart its beat ere now. " 
 
 At once Carl with a quicker hand 
 His steel moves, with a hiss 
 
 And up in air from Hermann's grasp 
 A weapon flies — broke is. 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. ip 
 
 ^'Ah, now I have thee, Hermann, and 
 
 Thy life lies in my hand — 
 Surrender, knave, or by my soul 
 
 I'll kill you where you stand! " 
 
 Our travellers and Theresa, all, 
 
 So spell-bound were they, that, 
 If called Carl's life to defend 
 
 They'd moved not where they sat. 
 
 A flash of fire from Carl's bold eye, 
 
 His anger at its height : 
 *'Down, coward! so I know thou art; 
 
 Thy treason's known to-night! " 
 
 But Hermann did not make reply, 
 
 But from his bosom drew, 
 — This with the eagle's instant move — 
 
 A whistle ; loud he blew. 
 
 Its echoes had but scarce begun, 
 When Carl's sword shrill did whist. 
 
 And fell the shaft on Hermann's arm, 
 Which severed at the wrist. 
 
 The sword of Carl here did not cease, 
 
 But springing forward, he 
 Prepared to meet the charging band. 
 
 ' ' I will no coward be ! " 
 
 Loud shouted Murat : ' * On, my friends, 
 
 We now will make attack," 
 A moment more they out did spring. ^ 
 
 "We do not courage lack." 
 
20 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Soon carbines flashed and pistols glared,, 
 
 Shrieks followed — all was din; 
 A voice then cried, it Hermann's was: 
 
 " Take men the prisoner in." 
 
 But 'twas not heard. The deadly strife 
 
 Had ear for naught but shots 
 And clashes of the glittering swords, 
 "Which falling, left red blots. 
 
 Sudden, like curtains drawn, the clouds> 
 
 The moon's bright glare shut out, 
 And left the scene as dark as pitch, 
 
 And then arose a shout. 
 
 Meanwhile Theresa, left alone. 
 
 And safely out of harm. 
 With heart excited and afraid, 
 
 Cried out in wild alarm : 
 
 "Carl, oh Carl, come back to me, 
 
 Oh Carl, thou wilt be slain!" 
 No answer to the maid returns — \ 
 
 Her cries are but in vain. ■' 
 
 As darkness fell, the fighting passed 
 
 Beyond the reach of ear. 
 All now w^as still save some night bird's 
 
 Wild note so loud and clear. 
 
 With terror rising in her breast. 
 
 The maiden rushed along. 
 And cried aloud : " Oh brother Carl,'" ^ 
 
 Which rang out clear and strong. 1 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 21 
 
 But no reply; unconscious she 
 
 Sank to the pitying ground, 
 And there she lay as if life were gone ; 
 
 Night dews soft fell around, 
 
 And gently kissed her fevered brow, 
 
 Until she breathed again ; 
 She rose, once more pursued her way, 
 
 ■Quite soon relieved of pain. 
 
 And now, above, the moon shone clear, 
 
 The dark clouds passed away, 
 A mellow light spread all around 
 
 As by the glow of day. 
 
 But all at once she heard a cry. 
 
 ' ' Can that be friend or foe, 
 Or is it some wild animal 
 
 Must I answer — yes or no?" 
 
 She listened long; another came 
 
 To her wide open ears — 
 -She now can understand the words, 
 
 'Tis " Theresa " plain she hears. 
 
 ''A friend it is, thank heaven." vShe cries 
 
 An answer loud and clear 
 And soon she hears Arcartez's voice. 
 
 And then his footstep near. 
 
 ii. ' 
 
 Tis thee, Theresa ; long and far 
 I've searched for thee to-night ; 
 I thought in vain. It proves not so. 
 We'll leave this place of fright." 
 
22 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 " Oh where is Carl?" the maid implores,, 
 "Oh is he safe?" He said: 
 
 ' ' Nay girl thy brother wounded is. 
 Come hasten to his aid ; 
 
 " He hath received a dangerous wound 
 
 While acting in^ this fray ; 
 My friends have brought him to an inn 
 
 Near by, where he doth lay." 
 
 Theresa gave a stifled shriek. 
 
 " Come let us to him go. " 
 Arcartez then did lead the way, 
 
 With footsteps far from slow. 
 
 And to the inn not far away, 
 
 Arcartez led the girl 
 And soon she saw, with tear-filled eyes,. 
 
 Faint — weak — her brother Carl; 
 
 A gaping sword wound in his breast. 
 
 His foes had left their stain. 
 Which e'en till death would follow him 
 
 Through all life's toil and pain. 
 
 The mountains high rise all around, 
 Romantic Heidberg's towers, 
 
 Beside a lake o'er whose expanse 
 The evening shadow lowers. 
 
 This is the seat of Carl's old race, 
 
 His own ancestral home, 
 His castle strong and safe retreat 
 
 From German robbers known. 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 23 
 
 Among these steeps the Poet meets 
 
 Imagination's sway, 
 And reads all nature like a book 
 
 While Fancy leads the way ; 
 
 'Tis here the mountain breezes speak, 
 
 The cataract communes, 
 The mighty rocks strange stories tell, 
 
 The birds sing mystic tunes ; 
 
 The Minnesinger lingers here 
 
 And inspirations breathe 
 Of records past, of legends old, 
 
 And grand productions wreathe ; 
 
 Ah Poet, Poet, it is here 
 
 Alstein the singer dwells. 
 Who in the sweetness of his notes 
 
 The Siren far excels. 
 
 But none have ever seen his face. 
 
 Though oft upon the wind, 
 His songs do float like softest down, 
 
 And heart and soul do bind. 
 
 When War is raging wild and mad 
 
 The Singer's notes ring loud. 
 And tell the tales of Charlemaine 
 
 And bravery's rare reward. 
 
 Again, when Peace its curtains drop, 
 
 Cf lady's love sings he — 
 Of woman's love which rules the world — 
 
 Of woman's love rings free. 
 
24 COSMOPOLITANIA 
 
 Carl was lying in the castle, 
 
 And his life was ehbing fast 
 Ebbing as the tides of ocean, 
 
 Softly as the breeze goes past. 
 
 By the bedside sate Theresa, 
 In her now accustomed place. 
 
 Low Carl gasped : ' ' Oh ope the window, 
 Let the pure air fan my face." 
 
 Then he sank back quite exhausted ; 
 
 When his sister did his wish 
 A bright smile lit up his features. 
 
 And his eyes closed under lash. 
 
 There he lay so calm, so peaceful, 
 Theresa stepping with foot light, 
 
 Thought her brother lost in slumber; 
 Had his spirit taken flight ? 
 
 Leaning gently, soft she kissed him, 
 But she felt no breath returned, 
 
 — Felt his heart — it had ceased beating. 
 His soul was gone. She with pain burned. 
 
 " Carl, not dead." She fell beside him, 
 With her arms around his neck, 
 
 — 'Round the form of her dear brother. 
 Hours passed on. We need not reck. 
 
 Slowly sank the sun in glory. 
 At the close of that fair day, 
 
 Resting on the highest summit ; 
 — Still the girl and brother lay, 
 
CANTO THE FIRST. 23 
 
 As if twined by Love's embraces, 
 
 And the breeze their light locks waved. 
 
 Heidberg ! hast thon lost thy mistress ? 
 Aye bold Tower will she be saved ! 
 
 Slowly sank the sun in glory, 
 
 Giving to the mountains round 
 Golden hues of striking beauty. 
 
 Beauty — beauty so profound ! 
 
 All is still. Ah Carl, Theresa, 
 
 This scene's closed unto thine eyes 
 
 Yet thou see'st one far more glorious 
 The sun-lit mounts of Paradise ! 
 
 As the sun's rays disappeared 
 
 And gray twilight reigned so fair, 
 
 'Rose a voice — it seemed of heaven 
 So sweetly trilled it on the air ; 
 
 Listen, listen, — list, oh harken ! 
 
 How entrancing runs the lay — 
 Is't an angel ? Ah, it must be. 
 
 Sure no mortal sings that way. 
 
 The air is filled — so soft, enchanting, 
 But how sad — the soul doth start ; 
 
 Such notes thaw the hardest nature 
 And with pity melts the heart. 
 
 Rising to the vault of heaven. 
 
 Falling then on Heidberg's towers. 
 
 And as down floats from the eagle 
 O'er the death couch this lay lowers. 
 
26 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Such sweet melody — so lovely, 
 So heart binding, clear and free, 
 
 Ne'er was heard by mortal hearing, 
 Notes of so rich harmony. 
 
 Ah 'tis ceased. The lingering darkness 
 Now sinks gently over all, 
 
 And the night winds kiss the forehead 
 Of Theresa and her Carl. 
 
 Night passed by and brake the morning, 
 Bright the sun arose and fair ; 
 
 Vassals found their maid and master, 
 Linked in Death's firm grasp so bare. 
 
 Sombre now arises Heidberg, 
 As a spectre of days passed ; 
 
 Alone, deserted, left to ruin — 
 To the elements' fury cast. 
 
 Ne'er again Alstein the Singer, 
 
 Filled the mounts with minstrelsy. 
 
 In his stead loud cries the owlet 
 
 And the hawk fromh arm quite free. 
 
 END OF CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 2r 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 In Paris fair an Autumn day, 
 Breaks calmly, bright, serene ; 
 
 Awake ! the gayest of the gay. 
 Let pleasure reign supreme ; 
 
 Throw off the murky air of night. 
 And let the mournful thought 
 
 Avaunt thy breast — be happy now, 
 Of heavy care think not. 
 
 In peace this city is a place, 
 
 Like unto Paradise, 
 In war, a scene of mortal strife, 
 
 Fit for the demon's eyes. 
 
 But peace now reigns — and now gaze out 
 
 See Paris at its best, 
 See Paris now in royal robes, 
 
 The city of the blessed. 
 
 The sun 'rose high in his day's course ; 
 
 I wander quite amazed. 
 Amidst displays, that, tempting me. 
 
 My brain with wonder's dazed. 
 
 Soon eve is come. A noble street 
 Of wond'rous charm, attracts 
 
 Me up its brilliant thoroughfare, 
 Of fashion, whirl and acts. 
 
28 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 I wander on ; soon such a crowd 
 
 Of carriage and of horse, 
 Obstruct the way, I can pursue 
 
 No farther on my course; 
 
 ''Why this ?" I asked a plumed guard, 
 He waved me back: — " The Prince 
 
 Of England now a visit tends 
 To Louis King of France." 
 
 And 'twas quite true. A brilliant fete, 
 
 In preparation was. 
 To greet the heir of England's crown, 
 
 By etiquetic laws. 
 
 The Palace entrance trimmed was 
 With banners, bright with show ; 
 
 The park quite near with lanterns hung, 
 And all was now aglow. 
 
 Dukes, barons, with their wives, 
 Vicomtes, — the State of France, 
 
 Approach to pay their best respects 
 To England's glorious Prince. 
 
 The musketeers are seen about. 
 The guard they line the way. 
 
 And coaches come, stop and depart, 
 Their occupants do stay. 
 
 I very much am thrilled throughout. 
 
 To see this royal scene. 
 And very thankful am I too, 
 
 That 'fore me's not a screen. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 2^ 
 
 Now all have passed, — the fete hath now 
 
 Put forth its regal 'ray ; 
 A place 'tis not for common eyes ; 
 
 No longer can I stay ; 
 
 Just as I turn, a carriage swift. 
 
 Approaches like the wind, 
 — It halts, — three persons do alight; 
 
 I gaze with head inclined ; 
 
 Why strange ! I am confused, mine eyes 
 
 Seem to mislead me quite, 
 — I rub them — strange — strange, do I dream?' 
 
 No, no, my sense is right ; 
 
 'Tis true. The three who late arrive, 
 
 I know, at least have heard — 
 King Charles the first, Arcartez next, 
 
 And Murat is the third. 
 
 They mount the steps and are received^ 
 
 With honor and respect, 
 By Louis, King of France's realm. 
 
 And company elect. 
 
 '^ Ah ! ah !" said Charles, " a little late 
 
 We are." "Nay, speak not so." 
 This King Louis laughing quoth, 
 
 And to him all bowed low. 
 
 Our heroes, handsomely looked they, 
 
 And vain 'twould be to seek 
 For three more handsome, finer formed, 
 
 Or rosier in the cheek ; 
 
JO COSMOPOLITANIA, 
 
 The torrid clime hath left its stain 
 
 Upon their features, and 
 The ocean breezes oft, their locks 
 
 In playful mood expand; 
 
 Their blood with swifter ire doth flow. 
 Their eyes with spirit glows, 
 
 Their noble bearing like the stars, 
 A sort of radiance throws. 
 
 The eve passed on and noble men 
 Pressed our three travelers' hands; 
 
 Fair women smiled upon our friends, 
 Who came from distant lands. 
 
 *' They say thou hast all countries seen," 
 
 Said Dutchess de la Soile. 
 " Aye, rightly madame hast thou heard," 
 
 Charles answered with a smile ; 
 
 *' O'er distant seas our course hath been, 
 In countries strange we've trod, 
 
 Great battles have we gazed upon. 
 Led by the hand of God. " 
 
 '* Brave Chevaliers," the Cuont de Brael 
 
 Said with a quite low voice, 
 '* Of all the countries thou hast seen, 
 
 Which country is thy choice ?" 
 
 " My choice is Spain," Arcartez said. 
 
 And mine," quoth Murat, "Greece." 
 Charles answered, " Lo, the world is mine, 
 The world doth me most please." 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. j.r 
 
 *'The Prince," here Louis did present; 
 
 The travellers low did bow, 
 To greet the heir of Angle-land, 
 
 Again they did bow low. 
 
 The scene passed on ; the revelry 
 
 Increased, the dance was high ; 
 Our friends with madames on their arms 
 
 Joined the festivity. 
 
 Mesdemoiselles they next did seek, 
 'Twas Charles the plan proposed, 
 
 The repast then, which ended all ; 
 — The joy and mirth then closed. 
 
 The guests depart. Oh may the Peace, 
 Which France and England sign, 
 
 Forever end the wars which rend. 
 And give them joyous reign: 
 
 Eut 'tis too true that Thomas More's 
 
 Utopias are but dreams ; 
 Por the best we pray but our frail sight 
 
 Mistakes quite oft our schemes. 
 
 Prom Florence had our "Polos " come 
 
 To Paris, — they were met 
 IBy Louis, who had heard their fame, 
 
 And honors o'er them set. 
 
 Some days elapse ; the three withdraw 
 
 From all society, 
 T^o rest from over-borne fatigue, 
 
 How gained we all can see. 
 
j2 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 "You both," said Charles, " Do recollect 
 Our raeeting first. " " Ah quite, " 
 
 Arcartez said, " 'Tis six years since 
 Our fortunes did unite." 
 
 " Six years," said Murat, with a sigh, 
 
 ' ' Since Carl was laid away. 
 Together with his sister, fair 
 
 Theresa — woeful day. " 
 
 ' ' The wings of thought sad mem'ries bring, " 
 Said Charles, and silence fell ; 
 
 ' ' V\^ith coward Hermann fain would I, ' 
 My swordly action tell." 
 
 " I say my friends," Arcartez quoth, 
 
 " Make journey to Berlin, 
 Perchance we may this Hermann meet — 
 
 Leave sword marks on his skin." 
 
 They all agreed the course they'd take, 
 
 Would be to German lands ; 
 "We should make speed." "Yes true we 
 must, 
 
 When France hath her demands." 
 
 Invited are they out to fetes 
 
 Receptions, parties, they, 
 The first, accepted Duke Monpeire's, 
 
 A soldier old and gray; 
 
 This soldier was a pleasant man, 
 Well famed in Spanish wars ; 
 
 By land and sea his acts had shown 
 A brave man true he was. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 33 
 
 Our friends became quite much attached 
 
 To Duke Monpeire, and he 
 Returned the love ; much time they spent 
 
 In social company. 
 
 One day the Duke asked : ' ' Friends, doth 
 play ?" 
 
 Arcartez said: — "We do, 
 At least we have when in the mood 
 
 At Roulette, 'Noir and Loo." 
 
 ' 'With what success ?" Monpeire then asked ; 
 
 Charles answered with a smile : 
 ' ' Once I ten thousand ducats won, 
 
 — At Rome was I the while." 
 
 "What, what," exclaimed Monpeire, "In 
 Rome ?" 
 
 " In Rome eight months ago, 
 Within the Corso," Charles replied, 
 
 " I cards and dice did throw." 
 
 ' ' 'Tis now eight months since I, in Rome 
 
 Ten thousand ducats lost," 
 Soliloquized Monpeire, " Eight months. 
 
 Since I my fortune tossed. 
 
 ' ' By heaven let me grasp thy hand, 
 
 Thy hand, sir, it was I, 
 From whom thou won'st those ducats, I," 
 
 The Duke loud made reply ; 
 
 ' ' I wore a cloak of blueish tint, 
 
 And thou a mantle black 
 
 Doth recollect ! — ah true thou dost ; 
 
 — I'll win my ducats back." 
 
 (3) 
 
34 
 
 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 '"Tis true, brave Duke," said Charles, 
 '"Though I, 
 
 Do not recall thy face — " 
 *'Nor do I thine, thy beard is gone. 
 
 Which makes thee out of place. " 
 
 *'It seems quite strange," Arcartez quoth, 
 
 ' ' That mutually, you both 
 Should not the other recollect." 
 
 The Duke says with an oath : 
 
 ' ' ' Tis no great matter, after all. 
 
 So let it pass ; now we, 
 (If so you please) will make our way 
 
 Where we can play quite free." 
 
 A coach is called — they hie away 
 
 And very soon they see 
 A noble building in a square, — 
 
 Distinguished to the three. 
 
 By Duke Monpeire whose hand he points. 
 
 '"Tis here," he says, "alight, 
 And enter in the gaming house 
 
 In which we'll spend the night. " 
 
 The carriage stops before the house — 
 
 The steps they then ascend ; 
 The Duke, a bell quite softly rings, 
 
 W^hich doth a signal send ; 
 
 A moment more they enter in 
 
 An airy hall, but bare 
 Of ornament, then up a case 
 
 Of wide and spiral stair. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. j^ 
 
 The Duke now says:—'' We'll enter here." 
 
 — Two folding doors ope wide, 
 — They enter in— the doors behind, 
 
 With noiseless motion slide. 
 
 A gay saloon to view appears, 
 
 Our travelers to lodge ; 
 So panelled is 't with mirrors clear. 
 
 That none its size can judge ; 
 
 The ceiling oval, frescoed is 
 
 With masterpieces rare, 
 Which painted are, so finely, they 
 
 Appear unearthly fair ; 
 
 Glass chandeliers, with brasses trimmed, 
 
 Hang ponderous, radiant. 
 And shed their light so soft yet clear. 
 
 To th' eye no pain is sent. 
 
 A Venus Milo greets us here, 
 
 A Juno, Ceres there. 
 While up above the Muses stand 
 
 In all their mythic air. 
 
 And Turkey hath his signet sent, 
 
 Which spreads in colors rare. 
 Beneath the tread which noiseless is, 
 
 Without the need of care. 
 
 Italian columns tower high. 
 
 As white as new fal'n snow. 
 Great folds of Eastern tapestry 
 
 Their finest fabrics show. 
 
j6 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Divans invite the weary soul — 
 
 Reclining there, to breathe 
 The essence of ethereal peace, 
 
 All human cares to leave. 
 
 Five granite tables richly carved 
 
 In bas-relief, contain 
 The burning lamps of malachite, 
 
 Which send forth from their flame, 
 
 The rich perfume of Levantine, 
 
 Arising, spreading, wide 
 Throughout this grand saloon, by far 
 
 The seat of Paris' pride. 
 
 * Around with geometric care, 
 — Rosewood inlaid with gold. 
 Mahogany with silver cased — 
 Small tables, stars do mold. 
 
 Here games of chance in progress, do 
 
 Participants attract — 
 Here are arranged those games of luck, 
 
 Requiring nerve and tact. 
 
 While here are billiards, there are wheels^ 
 
 And French society. 
 Thus do their fortunes interchange, 
 
 Quite oft excitingly. 
 
 Young pages fair the waiters are. 
 
 And noiselessly they fly, 
 With graceful mien and movements swift, 
 
 And this incessantly. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND, jy 
 
 Monpeire and Charles a table take ; 
 
 Arcartez and Murat 
 A cue apiece, to show their skill, 
 
 And billiards do they play. 
 
 ''Wilt play at cards ?" the Duke inquired. 
 
 "As sayest thou," Charles said. 
 The ivory pack to them is brought, 
 
 With Bordeaux sparkling red. 
 
 The game begins — the stakes are small ; 
 
 Charles wins — again — again ; 
 The Duke his wagers heedless makes. 
 
 He does not win — in vain. 
 
 ''Parbleu! 'tis droll, I lose," he says, * 
 ' ' With careful head thou play 'st, 
 
 Which I have not. A thousand lost, 
 A thousand francs I say'st." 
 
 But at one stake he wins what he 
 
 Has lost in all. ' 'Ah ! now 
 You win," says Charles, "But spurt ahead — 
 
 Be not too overslow. " 
 
 Murat has lost and won three games 
 
 Of billiards from the Prince ; 
 They saunter back — a divan take, 
 
 And clouds of smoke evince ; 
 
 And gaze about ; they faces see 
 
 Whom they before have seen ; 
 They bow, shake hands, converse with them, 
 
 The movers of this scene. 
 
S8 COSMOPOLl TAX I A 
 
 A personage of high degree. 
 Stands looking at them, near ; 
 
 He watches with an eagle's eye. 
 Their actions, with a sneer. 
 
 His stature tall, complexion dark — 
 
 A hauo^htv air withal : 
 His eye the two doth keenly watch. 
 
 And on them hate lets fall. 
 
 Our friends note not the evil gaze. 
 
 That is upon them thrown. 
 And smoke and chat in graceful ease. 
 
 An enemy unknown? 
 
 This stranger soon withdraws and holds 
 
 A conference with a page. 
 Who disappears — returns — then both 
 
 In mystic whispering 'gage. 
 
 Two hours pass. Our two friends then, 
 
 No longer care to stay, 
 Whilst Charles and Duke Monpeire retain 
 
 Their seats for further play. 
 
 The page, who with the stranger spoke, 
 
 Escorted to the street, 
 Procured a coach for the two friends, 
 
 And saw them in the seat. 
 
 And closed the door. The coach drives on. 
 
 In low tone they converse. 
 "We, for a good sound rest to-night, 
 
 Will not feel aught the worse." 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. jp 
 
 "I feel quite faint," Arcartez says, 
 
 "Because within this car." 
 The air is burning hot — the doors 
 
 And windows tight closed are. 
 
 Arcartez feels a throbbing pain 
 
 Across his forehead, which 
 Is also felt by Murat too. 
 
 Whose brow with pain doth twitch. 
 
 The air is dense and all at once 
 
 Their brains seem all aflame ; 
 Arcartez sinks with senses gone. 
 
 And Murat does the same. 
 
 The coach rolls on with swiftest pace 
 
 Without the city's wall, 
 Far in the country. Day soon breaks, 
 
 And still their senses loll. 
 
 A forest through the road doth lead ; 
 
 A castle soon they reach, 
 On ^hose high battlement is perched, 
 
 A crow which loud doth screech. 
 
 The moat is crossed, the drawbridge down, 
 
 Portcullis high is drawn ; 
 The coach halts in the castle yard. 
 
 An hour after dawn. 
 
 Within the castle's gloomy vaults, 
 
 The prisoners are placed. 
 Their captor's pleasure to await, 
 
 If he their fate hath traced. 
 
^o COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 The hour arrives ; within a hall 
 (The council chamber named) 
 
 They met the chief — their captor bold. 
 ''Ah! Hermann!" both exclaimed. 
 
 The hall with swordsmen is filled full — 
 
 A circle they form there, 
 And on a platform sits the chief, 
 
 His sentence to declare. 
 
 Beside him sits a maiden young, 
 
 His daughter Margarette; 
 A nymph of Paradise is she, 
 
 So gentle and so sweet. 
 
 She gazes with a wondering eye 
 
 Upon the scene she sees — 
 Two prisoners, perhaps to die 
 
 Doth much her heart unease. 
 
 She sees her father's brow grow dark, 
 As his eyes the captives seek — 
 
 He is about to rise — he stops — 
 A voice to him doth speak : 
 
 "Ah! Hermann!" says Arcartez, "I 
 
 Do recognize thy face — 
 Indeed 't would do mine honor wrong, 
 
 Thy countenance to misplace ; 
 
 * ' But how, St. Cloud are we so ta'en 
 ' Gainst honor's virtuous laws? 
 
 — By spies transferred — by drugs and arts, 
 Into the Lion's claws? 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 41 
 
 * ' Why should a Count lay traps for us, 
 Whose swords would cross with thine 
 
 In honored strife? ah! thou'rt afraid 
 To cross thy steel with mine!" 
 
 ^' Peace ! peace ! thou blabber !" cries the 
 Count, 
 
 "I'm lord within these walls — 
 Thy fate lies on my slightest word — 
 
 And death will be my calls." 
 
 **But why this outrage," Murat cries, 
 ''Why forced within your power? 
 
 Eut answer make to my demands!" 
 — His brow, with rage, doth lower. 
 
 ' ' Forget what happed in German lands, 
 
 But six short years ago? 
 Thy mem'ry's short," the Count replies, 
 
 With words both stern and slow ; 
 
 '' ' Doth see this arm ! — no hand is there — 
 
 ' Tis severed at the wrist. 
 And by a cause for which I hold 
 
 Thee guilty," St. Cloud hissed. 
 
 His arm was bared and held aloft — 
 
 ' Twas handless. "Ah! you say 
 The sword of Carl did leave me thus. 
 
 But thou the forfeits pay; 
 
 " Revenge I'll have 'though all the world, 
 
 Should'st interfere in this ; 
 And prove thee that a German Count, 
 
 Doth ne'er his vengeance miss." 
 
42 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 "What! mean'st thou that without defense 
 
 We'll die?" Arcartez said. 
 "Thou say 'st thy sentence," Hermann said, 
 
 "But brave men have no dread." 
 
 — A silence deep fell o'er the hall. 
 
 When : ' ' Mercy, sire, I pray 
 For these thy captives," Margarette 
 
 These words did softly say, 
 
 "Nay, girl! Away, thou know'st not this; 
 
 I doom them to their fate. 
 By heav'n I searched the world for them !"^ 
 
 And gleamed his eyes with hate. 
 
 "Now daughter leave. 'Tis not for thee 
 
 To linger o'er this scene ; 
 Thou and thy maids had best retire, 
 And seek thy chamber's screen." 
 
 She did obey her sire's command, 
 
 But not without a look 
 Of pity, on the prisoners two, 
 
 As she departure took. 
 
 The Count now turns and hotly says : 
 ' ' Thy death shalt pay the due 
 
 Of Carl's great insult unto me. 
 Thou'ltdie! Thou'lt die"— 
 
 ' ' Stop you ! 
 And dar'st thou, Hermann, bring the name 
 
 Of Carl before this seat 
 Of judgment, if it is so called!" 
 
 — Their eyes do fiercely meet — 
 
CANTO THE SECOND, 4S 
 
 **And yet thou bear'st a noble name, 
 
 ' Brave Hermann, ' yet yonrself 
 Yon are a coward true at heart, 
 
 A traitor, outlaw, pelf !" 
 
 The Count's eye glows with fiercer fire; 
 
 This speech cuts to the heart ; 
 He hears his honor rated low ; 
 
 He throbs, his nostrils start : 
 
 ' ' Aye, Hermann, dost thou truly say, 
 
 And proudly I repeat, 
 Of lineage which Charlemagne 
 
 Himself, can but compete ! 
 
 ' ' What ! dar'st thou now unfold to me 
 
 An insult such as this ! 
 Away ! ye guards, to dungeon walls 
 
 Till death doth them dismiss!" 
 
 The Count's dark face hath lost its hue 
 
 Of natural color, and 
 With rage and passion, purple streaks, 
 
 Upon his brow do stand ; 
 
 He waves his hand with furious sway ; 
 
 The guards step to obey. 
 Arcartez, low, to Murat says : — 
 
 ' 'Now quick — the time — away!" 
 
 With movements fleet as Sol's bright beams 
 
 Take current into space, 
 They'd wrenched two swords from vassals' 
 sheaths. 
 
 That stood near, in their place. 
 
44 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 '*On! on!" Arcartez fiercely cried, 
 
 " Now freedom lies ahead." 
 *' By heav'n it doth, and two like we 
 
 Must gain it." Murat said. 
 
 Their swords deal deadly blows around, 
 
 Four guards by Murat fall. 
 And three beneath Arcartez's hand. 
 
 ''On! on!" doth Murat call. . 
 
 They ply their steels with might and main ; 
 
 In vain ! outnumbered, they 
 Are taken, wounded ; back they fall, 
 
 A bleeding, helpless prey. 
 
 A week of time's resistless tide , 
 
 Moves onward ; still no trace 
 Is heard of either of the two. 
 
 Charles wears a serious face. 
 
 *'I shall commence to search for them," 
 He says, "Duke, wilt thou aid?" 
 
 •'Parbleu I will," Monpeire rejoins, 
 "As far's my power's laid;" 
 
 And then he asks: — "Have they foes here, 
 That thou dost know, could'st tell, 
 
 If thou the names should'st hear pronounced ? 
 Work up thy memory Vv^ell. " 
 
 "They have no foes, but they were mine. 
 
 No friends but I had claim ; 
 We live as one — loves, hatreds, ail 
 
 In like directions aim." 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 45 
 
 ** No enemy then — " ''Can Hermann be" — 
 "Who's Hermann! pray speak out — " 
 
 "Can'st be that Hermann's with us here 
 In Paris? 's blood I doubt!" 
 
 "Who's Hermann! Speak," Monpeire then 
 cries. 
 
 — "A Count in German lands, 
 Our foe to death, our only foe 
 
 That's had blood from our hands." 
 
 Charles then the story did relate. 
 
 What happed six years before. 
 On Heidberg's ground, of Hermann, and 
 
 His treachery gone before ; 
 
 The story all, he did relate 
 
 Of Hermann of St. Cloud; 
 Of Carl, the 'fray, and all that passed : 
 
 "He calls for vengeance loud." 
 
 The Duke heard with attentive ear. 
 
 "There is," he said, "a man 
 I know not well, but 've merely seen, 
 
 That's like the Count you scan ; 
 
 "He is a sort of mystery here. 
 
 And I have rumors heard. 
 That he hath bought a castle near 
 
 To Paris " 
 
 " 'Tis absurd! 
 Count Hermann can't be here in France." 
 
 "This man hath no right hand 
 If my faint mem'ry fails me not — 
 
 That 'specially I scanned." 
 
46 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 * 'By heaven 'tis CloTid!" Charles shouted out 
 
 "He's handless, as you say. 
 ' Tis he this mischief hath cut up. 
 
 We will to search. Away!" 
 
 By Monpeire's influence do they find 
 Where Hermann's castle stands; 
 
 Charles sets to work his friends to free, 
 From out the Lion's hands. 
 
 * »l* •!* ^ ^i ^ ^ ^ 
 
 »]> ^i* ^* *T* 'I* 1* 'I* 
 
 " Tis morning ; and the inky shrouds 
 Of night have passed away, 
 
 And Phoebus' car dispels the gloom 
 And glorious breaks the day. 
 
 Along a lonesome road, a Monk 
 
 Is traveling and a psalm 
 Dwells on his lips as on he goes, 
 
 And show a spirit calm. 
 
 The road on through a forest leads, 
 Beneath whose leafy shade. 
 
 Naught breaks the stillness of the hour, 
 Except sounds nature made. 
 
 Erstwhile the Monk sits down to rest, 
 
 Or paused as he took 
 A quaff of Earth's most precious drink. 
 
 From out the rippling brook ; 
 
 Sudden a sound meets his quick ear. 
 
 And in the distance, he 
 Discerns a horseman dashing on — 
 
 A Knight of Chivalry ; 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 47 
 
 The rider halts as near he draws. 
 
 ''Friend Monk, what do ye here? 
 There be no sinners in these parts ; 
 
 Back, back to Paris steer." 
 
 "Ah friend, perhaps I've 'ready found 
 
 A sinner, and I'll preach 
 To yon, if yon but stay and list, 
 
 If I none else can reach." 
 
 •* ' Sir Friar, turn thy steps away, 
 
 And leave this forest's gloom : 
 Thy life in danger really is ; 
 
 I warn thee of thy doom." 
 
 ^ ' Friend Knight, I set my life at naught, 
 
 And glean from what you say, 
 That sinners lurk in every bush. 
 
 My vows then make me stay." 
 
 "** But Monk, ye know not who I am, 
 
 And I, sir, you command. 
 Retrace your steps, for I alone. 
 
 Am owner of this land ; 
 
 ■* ' And if I do seek Church's aid 
 
 A monastery, I 
 Will here erect within my realms, 
 
 Which will repentance cry." 
 
 ^'I think I know thee, Chevalier," 
 — The Monk gazed at him bold — 
 
 ^' Thy name is Hermann and thine heart 
 Is black as night I'm told." 
 
48 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 "Perhaps, Monk, what you say is true^ 
 
 But holy as you are, 
 No hand of mine 'gainst thee 111 raise, 
 
 But bid thee wander far 
 
 ' ' From my estate, for as I say 
 
 No need have I of thee, 
 And if I do religion want, 
 
 I'll hire my ministry. 
 
 "There is some gold, alms for the poor;^ 
 Now backward thy course steer. 
 
 For I have ordered guards to watch 
 And bar all strangers here." 
 
 ' ' Sir Knight, if thou wilt but dismount^ 
 And kneel the ground upon, 
 
 I'll pray for all thy wicked host, 
 And deem my duty done ; 
 
 "And then contented will I go, 
 My heart and conscience clear ; 
 
 The prayer is short, but will be heard 
 On High, so have no fear." 
 
 The Knight dismounted, and his steed 
 Stood steadfast, while he knelt 
 
 Upon the turf beside the road, 
 Unloosening first, his belt. 
 
 But scarce had he bent on his knees. 
 When 'round his neck, was placed 
 
 A muscled hand of iron grip — 
 A prisoner firm incased. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 49 
 
 The Monk a sword held at his throat. 
 
 ' ' I know thee, Hermann, and 
 Thou soon wilt recollect me, too, 
 
 When I give thee command." 
 
 "What doth this mean," Count Hermann 
 gasped. 
 
 As forced upon his back, 
 The Monk's left knee upon his breast, 
 
 He was held as in a rack. 
 
 " It means that in your castle, you 
 Have, prisoners, dungeoned deep 
 
 Two friends of mine. This answers all, 
 And I their freedom seek." 
 
 "Oh fool was I to trust a Monk!" 
 
 — "You must an order make 
 To grant these captives instant leave. 
 
 Departure free to take." 
 
 ' 'And who art thou !" "My name is Charles — " 
 
 ' ' By heaven I know thee now ; 
 Thy hated face comes back to me — 
 
 No never'U I allow, 
 
 "Thy comrades to escape their doom." 
 
 " I then will force thee too." 
 A struggle followed, but Charles bound 
 
 The Count from top to toe. 
 
 ' ' Now Hermann I will play thy part ; 
 
 I am about thy size, 
 I'll speak like you and so, go to 
 
 Your castle in disguise ; 
 (4) 
 
50 
 
 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 " I'll leave you bound here hand and foot 
 
 Your cries hushed so that aid 
 Will be cut off ; then I will free 
 
 The prisoners you have made." 
 
 He dressed himself in Herm.ann's garb, 
 
 Well covered up his face, 
 And mounted the impatient steed, 
 
 And rode with furious pace. 
 
 Up to the castle gate ; all bowed 
 
 And stepped to do his will. 
 Which with stern gestures did he give. 
 
 ''If they knew, me they'd kill." 
 
 Charles played his part with cautious mien, 
 
 Spoke briefly as he could ; 
 But when he met fair Margarette 
 
 Confusedly he stood. 
 
 ' ' Why, father surely you are pale ; 
 
 Hath conscience wrought this change? 
 So white you are that scarce I'd know, 
 
 You were my sire — 'tis strange." 
 
 She then, before he could prevent. 
 Her arms 'round him did twine; 
 
 She gave a shriek : ' ' Who, who are you. 
 You are no sire of mine!" 
 
 Charles waved his hand : ' ' Disperse ye all I 
 
 My daughter's mad — I'll 'tend 
 Alone, her wants." The crowd obeyed 
 
 The order he did send. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 51 
 
 He grasped the girl in his embrace, 
 
 His hand her cries did curb, 
 And bore her through an open door 
 
 And shut it. None did disturb. 
 
 ^'Now silence" said he firmly, "I 
 
 Am desperate and thy life 
 I'll take fair one if need there be 
 
 To save mine arm from strife." 
 
 He then did whisper in her ear, 
 
 The reason he was there ; 
 Told how disguised he came to be. 
 
 To grant his friends free air ; 
 
 The terror-stricken maid heard all. 
 
 "Your sire is safe and I 
 Will swear to harm him not when my 
 
 Friends are at liberty ; 
 
 ' ' I thee must bind to save myself, 
 
 For I'll not be betrayed. 
 And must this day my friends set free ; 
 
 I will not be delayed ; 
 
 ' ' I must not let you say a word. 
 
 For I must act the part 
 In which I came, molested not, 
 
 And then will I depart ; 
 
 ' ' You see, sweet maid I mean no harm 
 
 To thee or to thy lord ; 
 I swear by all the vows of heav'n 
 
 That I will keep my word ; 
 
S2 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 " ' Gainst thee I do no violence mean, 
 
 But doth my safety lie 
 In being taken for thy sire, 
 
 Which act I carefully. " 
 
 The maiden grew less terrified 
 
 As she his words did hear, 
 Her nerves grew calm — all fears had passed ; 
 
 A faint smile did appear 
 
 Upon her face but late alarmed. 
 
 She understood it all. 
 Here is a man who honor and 
 
 Rare bravery can call ; 
 
 Who risks his life to save his friends. 
 
 Forcing his way among 
 The direst foes to do that act ; 
 
 His praise in her heart, rung. 
 
 Her lips were freed, and thus she spoke : 
 
 "Oh noble sir, I'll not 
 Betray you, but I'll lend my aid 
 
 In carrying out your plot. 
 
 "You are the bravest man that e'er 
 I've seen my whole life through ; 
 
 Fain would I gaze upon thy face — 
 Wilt thou grant me a view?" 
 
 Full trust had Charles in Margarette , 
 
 He then did bare his head ; 
 She looked upon his handsome face. 
 
 And blushed as she said : — 
 
CANTO THE SECOND ^j 
 
 ''Oh may I kiss this hand of thine 
 
 Which seeks thy friends to free 
 From out my father's wicked hand, 
 
 Which sure I know is he ; 
 
 ■'' For deep into the castle's hold 
 
 Hath he the prisoners placed, 
 To famish on till death relieves 
 
 Them from their cells incased. " 
 
 ■' ' But now, ' ' said Charles, ' 'I must with speed, 
 
 Deliver them, and you 
 Must act as guide, and show the way. 
 
 And tell me what to do." 
 
 She clasps his arm. "Oh proud am I," 
 
 She says, ''To be an aid. 
 Although perhaps you'd did as much. 
 
 If I had you betrayed." 
 
 Charles gave an order to the guards, 
 
 The prisoners to take 
 Into a private room, where he. 
 
 To them the news will break ; 
 
 Arcartez and Murat are brought 
 
 From their deep dungeon cells ; 
 Their faces haggard, faint their limbs, 
 
 Which want and famine tells. 
 
 But soon they know that they are free. 
 
 That Charles hath made them so ; 
 No longer must they pine away. 
 
 Death gaining on them slow. 
 
5^ COSMOPOLITANIA 
 
 "We must away," says Charles, "For 'tis 
 
 But danger here to stay ; 
 A swift departure from these walls. 
 
 Is our best course — away!" 
 
 But Margarette first gives them food. 
 Then horses she had brought 
 
 All saddled as if for a race. 
 
 Then Charles, aside, she sought: 
 
 ''-Oh sir, I see within thy face 
 Resemblance strong to one. 
 
 Whom once I loved with all my heart, 
 E'er childhood days were done; 
 
 "Oh tell to me thy name — where first 
 Thou saw'st the light of day? 
 
 Did'st thou e'er lose a girlish love ? 
 Oh, truly tell me, pray. 
 
 ' ' Oh tell me truly so that I 
 May know thee and be sure 
 
 Thou art, or art not my lost love 
 Whom chance made insecure." 
 
 Charles looked in her entreating eyes,, 
 When all at once he stared — 
 
 His eye grew wild — he nearly fell — 
 His brain seemed all aflared ! 
 
 A vision flashed bright in his m.ind. 
 
 He uttered low a name, 
 A boyhood picture 'rose before 
 
 His eye ; he could not frame 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. ^^ 
 
 The scene that to his mind was formed. 
 
 "Thy name— thy name!" cries he; 
 A sudden light looms on her face — 
 
 Ah ! she is fair to see. 
 
 She makes reply: " My name is not 
 
 The name of Margarette ; 
 My name is Hesa and am forced 
 
 To be the daughter sweet 
 
 "Of Hermann, whom I do abhor 
 
 More than my tongue can tell. 
 And thou, and thou art Charles of old 
 
 My memory serves me well. ' 
 
 ( ( > 
 
 Tis many years since we did love, 
 In childhood's happy hour." 
 He pressed a kiss upon her lips, 
 As he his head did lower. 
 
 Sudden she said:— ''We must away, 
 And with your two friends fly 
 
 From out the danger that lurks here. 
 Prepare we instantly." 
 
 The four did mount and ride away ; 
 
 The vassals that did see 
 Their supposed lord thus act so strange 
 
 Could but astonished be. 
 
 Charles drew the rein upon the spot 
 Where Hermann he had left ; 
 
 A sight of horror met his gaze — 
 A man whose throat was cleft 
 
^6 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Lay in the road. It was St. Cloud. 
 
 A sword lay at his side. 
 ''Whose deed is this," Arcartez said. 
 
 "Just heaven's," Charles replied. 
 
 And Hesa o'er the Count did bend. 
 
 His breath was almost gone. 
 '' *Oh ! pitying angels mercy have 
 
 This sinner's soul upon." 
 
 * ' Forgive — forgive my wicked deeds — 
 Oh maiden — " Hermann gasps ; 
 
 "I do, I do," she utters low, 
 And 'round him her arms she clasps. 
 
 All silent are ; a moment more 
 
 His soul had passed away; 
 Had that repentance been in time? 
 
 The One on High must say. 
 
 "Ah, friends all safe!" a voice says near. 
 
 All turn; and Duke Monpeire, 
 With sword in hand, and smiling face 
 
 They see, and at him stare. 
 
 The Duke adds: " It was I who made 
 The corpse that you see here, 
 
 For I an expert swordsman am, 
 And know no name for fear; 
 
 "I found him bound beneath that tree — 
 
 At first I heard a moan — 
 I knew 'twas Hermann ; I loosed him — 
 
 He fell without a groan. " 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 57 
 
 ^'But sir you did advantage have, 
 
 This man had no right hand, 
 And he was stiff while you were fresh," 
 
 Said Charles and then he scanned, 
 
 With rising anger Duke Monpeire, 
 
 Who was astonished quite, 
 To hear what he deemed a good deed. 
 
 Thus spoken of in spite. 
 
 *'But Charles he was your direst foe," 
 
 The Duke made haste to state. 
 ' ' No reason is it then that you 
 
 Should him assassinate!" 
 
 Charles then did leap from off his steed. 
 
 His sword was drawn, and he 
 Made charge against the Duke and said: 
 
 "Defend yourself from me." 
 
 "What meaneth this!" the other said. 
 
 "It means I'll vengeance give 
 For that dead Count's most unjust death — 
 
 You, coward, die or live." 
 
 Their swords are crossed — the steel's sharp 
 points 
 
 Move whistling through the air; 
 Two skillful duelists are they both. 
 
 In every turn matched fair. 
 
 The combat raged, when all at once. 
 
 The Duke held up his sword ; 
 •"I am a coward!" low he said; 
 
 Charles did not hear the word, 
 
S8 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 In time to save the fatal thrust 
 
 Which passed through Monpeire's breast; 
 The Duke fell back, a smile upon 
 
 His features, as at rest. 
 
 " Thou art the noblest man that e'er 
 
 I have acquaintance made, 
 For. honor pure is thy life's law;" 
 
 Monpeire's last words were said. 
 
 Death's hour is the time when all repent, 
 
 When all look back and see 
 The wicked lives which they have led, 
 
 ' Gainst virtue's laws so free. 
 
 When one feels death doth o'er him creep, 
 
 His heart is opened wide; 
 He doth forgive the wrongs did him, 
 
 E'er life away doth glide. 
 
 He summons up his evil deeds^ 
 
 And truly, pardon, prays 
 From all who wrong from, him have felt 
 
 In all his lifelong days. 
 
 In one brief moment all his sins 
 
 Arise before his eyes ; 
 Forgive my ills — forgive my wrongs 
 
 He gasps before he dies. 
 
 Now, since we knov/ not when we may 
 This Fiend of Death confront. 
 
 Is it not best to be prepared, 
 And meet him front to front? 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. ^^ 
 
 And have our faults all borne in mind, — 
 
 The wrongs did us forgiven — 
 Bear ill and hatred none against, 
 
 And from our thoughts be driven? 
 
 This is the secret law of life. 
 
 To prosper is our aim 
 
 This is the only way to 'rise 
 
 True honor to attain. 
 
 ' Twas where famed Venice sate in state, 
 ' Throned on her hundred isles, ' 
 
 The city of the wat'ry streets, 
 It's splendor on us smiles; 
 
 Where grand St. Mark our wonder calls, 
 
 It's marble turrets high ; 
 Where Comm.erce once ruled half the world, 
 
 And Power sate proud on high. 
 
 The fair Rose of the southern clime, 
 
 The Adriatic's Queen! 
 Whose argosies brought Croesus' wealth, 
 
 To add unto her gain. 
 
 But list ! soft music on the air, 
 
 Floats like a balmy sigh — 
 The sweet refrain of gondoliers 
 
 Mounts upward to the sky. 
 
 Oh ! Land of Song — thee Italy ! 
 
 Thy notes to me are sweet — 
 Thy harmony doth reach the heart 
 
 As slow the time is beat. 
 
So COSMOPOLITANIA, 
 
 A marble palace rises from 
 The wave. A feast is held — 
 
 A marriage feast — beneath its dome, 
 Where Doges long have dwelled ; 
 
 The daintiest viands of the south, 
 
 And wines of eldest stamp, 
 With fruits fresh from the reaper's hands, 
 
 Spread 'neath the table's lamp. 
 
 So Charles is w^ed. Again he will 
 Dwell 'neath his father's roof, 
 
 No more to roam midst various climes, 
 Whose scenes he'll hold aloof. 
 
 ' Twas years before when Hesa, he 
 Had met in boyhood's hour ; 
 
 They saw and loved with passion strong, 
 But Fate's stern hand did lower. 
 
 And took away the maid from him; 
 
 He sighed and wandered on. 
 But found no trace of his lost bride, 
 
 Till Fortune's smile came down. 
 
 So Charles is wed. And his two friends 
 Sate at the marriage board ; 
 
 They saw as happy union there 
 As e'er was on record. 
 
 Oh true and holy is that love 
 
 Though separation parts, 
 Which burns as brightly as when first 
 
 The net did bind those hearts. 
 
CANTO THE SECOND. 6r 
 
 As Hugo saith, love is a breath 
 
 Of the soft winds of Heaven, 
 A respiration of the air 
 
 Of Paradise o'erdriven. 
 
 So Charles is wed ; and to his friends, 
 
 Arcartez and Mnrat, 
 Did wave a deep and fond adieu, 
 
 And to them did he say: 
 
 ' ' Oh, friends — nay brothers— you, to me, 
 
 Of my existence, seem 
 To be a part ; and I, of you, 
 
 A part my heart doth deem. 
 
 " Is Friendship but a passion sweet, 
 
 A fond sensation brief. 
 Which fades as years do onward roll. 
 
 And 's blown like autumn's leaf ? 
 
 ''Nay, Friendship's like those mountain 
 peaks. 
 
 Which gaze each other on. 
 And have a base which withstands age. 
 
 And years add strength upon ; 
 
 "Contending tempests may sweep by 
 
 And vapors close around. 
 Thick clouds may fall and dim the view 
 
 And thunders loud resound, 
 
 "But these are interludes, which soon 
 
 A glorious sun dispels. 
 And seem more dear, when once again, 
 
 Clear light, their beauty tells. 
 
62 COSMOPOLU^ANIA. 
 
 ' ' So Murat and Arcartez, I 
 
 Extend a fond adieu. 
 Farewell, farewell, my memory deep 
 
 Will ever dream of you!" 
 
 And part they did ; and Venice saw 
 
 The parting of our friends ; 
 ' Twas sad perhaps, but for the best. 
 
 Will Time e'er make amends? 
 
 Will our three heroes meet again? 
 
 Can Future's vail be drawn. 
 And now foretell events to be. 
 
 E'er yet the day shall dawn ? 
 
 Time's horoscope will not disclose. 
 
 But wanderers on the Sea, 
 Perchance may meet in climes, which they 
 
 No thought had e'er to be ; 
 
 Life's rudder lost, the storms make us 
 
 The buffets of the wind ; 
 We move and onward ever go. 
 
 And oftimes Fate is kind, 
 
 And e'er we know we scenes pass through, 
 Which we before had known, 
 
 And visions rise and forms take life. 
 Which had from memory flown. 
 
 But here my song must end its lay ; 
 
 The minstrel's harp doth rest 
 Its music ; and the wavelets sigh 
 
 To Hesperus in the West. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 63 
 
 Oh star! gleam gently o'er my sleep. 
 
 Lend sweet dreams to the fair, 
 That when they 'wake their thoughts may be 
 
 As pure as thy beams there. 
 
 END OF CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 JByzantium ruined, there arose 
 
 The new Rome's capital farther east — 
 
 ^he city Constantine did claim, 
 And all his mighty power invest. 
 
 Did the 'Eternal City' lose 
 
 The name which she had always borne? 
 Nay, nay — but 07ie Rome could exist 
 
 And wear the crown which she had worn. 
 
 And St. Sophia cannot quell 
 
 St. Peter's dome, which gilds the sky 
 Of a more Christian atmosphere, 
 
 Than doth around the New Rome lie. 
 
 The ' City of the Sultans' sprung 
 Like Phoenix, from the ashes strewn 
 
 Of the Magarian's remains ; 
 
 Did they e'er dream the seed they'd sown? 
 
64 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 And Stamboul sank and there arose 
 Constantinople, royal, grand — 
 , She held her sway till Saracens 
 
 Laid low her pride with conquering hand. 
 
 The Moslems gained the city's wall. 
 
 The Janizaries won the day. 
 The Turk's Bell's ring through Europe, was 
 
 But fruitless though all men did pray. 
 
 Mohammed's followers reared their creed 
 
 In this fair city of the East, 
 The Koran ruled and spread its sway. 
 
 And Christian power waned, then ceased. 
 
 And Bithynia's son now saw enthroned 
 The Moslem faith, in this the land 
 
 Which he had founded. Was't not right 
 To fall to his descendant's hand? 
 
 And the Bosphorus, like a glass 
 Reflects the gilded minarets, 
 
 The Gold Horn sends her glories back 
 And doubly off her beauty sets ; 
 
 And oh, the oriental blue 
 
 That paints the distant sea and sky — 
 You feel its tint, so rich and deep — 
 
 None other clime doth such supply. 
 
 Afar, Olympus' snow capped peak 
 Uprises, and doth lend an eye, 
 
 As if to guard the Sultan's peace. 
 
 And warn when danger lurketh nigh. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 6s 
 
 A thousand masts rise to the view, 
 And the Propontis' wave doth bear 
 
 Upon its rocking breast, vast hulks — 
 All nations, here do send a share. 
 
 On thro' the wave, with Greek ensign 
 
 (' Tis blue and crossed with bars of white) 
 
 A graceful, swift felucca sails, 
 
 And forms a pretty, charming sight. 
 
 It anchors ; and from forth it, steps 
 Two forms, which are ahead of all — 
 
 Arcartez first and Murat next ; 
 
 You, now, I see, their miens recall. 
 
 In Greek apparel are they 'rayed, 
 
 Which doth become their 'pearance well ; 
 
 Two men are they who would attract 
 The gaze wherever they did dwell. 
 
 Constantinople greets them with 
 
 A smile of hospitality ; 
 Amid the cypress grove they take 
 
 Their ease while in this place they stay. 
 
 They stories tell of ventures, far 
 
 Beneath the burning Afric sun, 
 Leagues up the Nile's unending course — 
 
 Amidst the desert have they run ; 
 
 Thence through Arabia's barren waste 
 
 To Mecca, Jiddath, Aden and 
 Along that wild and southern shore, 
 
 Until at Muscat they touch land ; 
 (5) 
 
66 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 They fight the savage of the plain, 
 
 They brave the dangers of the deep, 
 
 . Escape, by chance, a thtind'rous storm 
 
 In Oman's gulf — make periloiis leap 
 
 For life, which is too dear to lose, 
 From ship on fire far out at sea. 
 
 Cling to a raft for days and nights. 
 Until at last they rescued be ; 
 
 Then through the Persian Gulf they sail 
 
 To Basca on the Euphrates; 
 At length, by fighting dangers dread, 
 
 Aleppo shelters them in ease ; 
 
 The Mediterranean soon they view. 
 And touch at Cyprus, Candia and 
 
 The Isles of Greece ; ^gean winds 
 
 Now waft them to the Turkish strand ; 
 
 Dardanelles' armed strait they pass. 
 To fair Marmora's restless wave. 
 
 And Istamboul receives with smiles 
 And pleasure, our two heroes brave. 
 
 And so repose they, mid the grove. 
 Beneath Scutari's looming height. 
 
 And dream the history of the scenes. 
 
 Which these fair hills have held in sight. 
 
 Hath Mankind gained by the slain. 
 That fell 'neath Moslem scimeter? 
 
 — Hath the Mohammedan faith declined? 
 Hath Christian cowed the 'Moslem cur'? 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 67 
 
 'Our Faith is great,' we say, 'and theirs 
 Is forced by tyrant's ironed hand — 
 
 They are unschooled,' we add, ' Obey 
 In ignorance their law's command. ' 
 
 What, forced! 'Why, yes,' we make reply, 
 ' Mohammedan's creed is one of iron — 
 
 They die when told — without a word. ' 
 — Doth glory such a death environ? 
 
 Does that word ' Force ' mean, what we take 
 As meaning, just the same to them? 
 
 — That word the same as Faith is, in 
 The Moslem Koran's diadem. 
 
 Religion is a Forward Look 
 
 Beyond this present Earthly life. 
 
 Across the dark Abyss of Death ; 
 It is for this that men hold strife. 
 
 We can but die for any cause, 
 
 (Who dies for naught is poor indeed,) 
 
 For Faith, Love, Country, Hope and Home — 
 In these we for Religion bleed. 
 
 The Christian pure, the Pagan true 
 Fears not the sting of grasping Death ; 
 
 But why is this? one's right, one's wrong 
 We say. Each sect hath that Look— Faith. 
 
 If in the Idol of the Ind, 
 
 The Pagan sees he will be saved, 
 He will be saved — and lives a life. 
 
 Which to his eye his conscience paved ; 
 
68 COSMOPOLITANIA, 
 
 If in the God the Christian holds 
 
 His after-life secure, secure 
 He is — and as a guide to him 
 
 His conscience leads him through life pure ; 
 
 That soul is safe that hath as guide 
 A Conscience that will lead him on, 
 
 — In that alone put all thy trust, 
 
 Thou need'st not fear thy Maker's con. 
 
 But stay; I've thus philosophized 
 To my mind's logic — I am young, 
 
 So dwell but lightly on my words. 
 
 From an inexperienced brain they've 
 sprung; 
 
 I often read and as result 
 
 I sometimes think; 'tis well 'my friend 
 Observe and judge all sides and then 
 
 Your last impartial judgment send. 
 
 Forget the outward 'pearance, and 
 
 But gaze within with searching sight — 
 
 Look toward the motive, not the act — 
 Thus will ye form a judgment right. 
 
 ' Tis morning ; and the breezes from 
 Olympus' steeps now fan the face ; 
 
 Constantinople is aroused 
 
 And all is life in this fair place. 
 
 All nations do make up the tide 
 
 Of people that flit to and fro ; 
 All countries represented are 
 
 In this vast stream ; some stay, some go. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 6g 
 
 In the ^2.7.2.3X there lingers long, 
 
 The human denizens of climes 
 Far to the west — France, England, Spain, 
 
 Leagues from the Christian Church's 
 chimes. 
 
 Within the mart of flesh and blood. 
 
 Where slaves change hands, and stronger 
 bind 
 
 "Their serfdom, we will turn thine eye 
 And Murat and Arcartez find. 
 
 Here lurk the pirates with their wares 
 
 Of human souls, and offer sale, 
 To highest bidder youth and age, 
 
 White, brown and black, male and female. 
 
 "Arcartez," said Murat, " Doth see 
 That lovely youth chained to the wall? 
 
 I' faith he's handsome and I'd swear 
 He could not eighteen summers call. " 
 
 ■^'Yes," said the other, "I have watched 
 That youthful slave and fain would I 
 
 Make purchase of so sweet a lad 
 And end his sad captivity." 
 
 " Thou'st spake my mind e'en as myself 
 
 Was to make utterance to you, 
 To buy this captive's too-young fate 
 
 And grant him liberty to go." 
 
 In the slave market's furthest end. 
 
 Lay bound the youth they had in view ; 
 
 Slight was his frame, accustomed ill, 
 To live in serfdom his life through. 
 
70 COSMOPOLITANIA 
 
 He seemed of gentle birtli and breed ; 
 
 His face was fair, but agony 
 Did show of tortures he had borne, 
 
 Whilst in his forced captivity ; 
 
 The hand is small, the leg is lithe, 
 
 That skin proclaims of Northern birth ;■ 
 
 The eye is blue, the forehead high, 
 
 And shows the absence long, of mirth. 
 
 The naked breast shows scars and stripes^. 
 
 Which are the marks of cordy lash. 
 But these the Master covers up, 
 
 E'er yet begins the sale for cash. 
 
 The Master tall and stern is he, 
 As black as night ere rise of moon ; 
 
 The pupils of his glistening eyes. 
 
 For buyers, search the breadth of room.. 
 
 He sells three girls, (oh, sad their fate) 
 For prices which do please him well ; 
 
 An old man next, a trifling sum 
 For aged flesh doth poorly sell. 
 
 The lad remains yet to be sold ; 
 
 As yet no buyer could be found 
 Who'd pay the price upon him laid ; 
 
 A slave like him not oft is bound. 
 
 Sweet youth is dear, yet can be bought 
 In the slave-markets of the East — 
 
 Yes, bought for gold, to own, abuse 
 Till death, in pity, doth release. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD, yi 
 
 Up to the Master steps a Turk ; 
 
 His turban shields a wicked head ; 
 His piercing eyes inquire the price, 
 
 That is upon the captive laid ; 
 
 The youthful prisoner gives a moan, 
 When he perceives this purchaser 
 
 About to buy. A cry escapes 
 
 His pallid lips. He dare not stir. 
 
 "Five thousand pieces gold," he hears; 
 
 "He's mine — the dog." The Turk takes 
 from 
 His silken girdle, a fat purse 
 
 And on the white slab lays it down. 
 
 " Hold," said Arcartez, "make no sale, 
 Till I have for him made a bid." 
 
 ' ' Thou Christian cur ! " the Turk burst forth, 
 "We will soon of thy presence rid." 
 
 "The seller is the one to say," 
 
 Arcartez made reply, and stern ; 
 The Turk's fierce brow did darker grow 
 
 With anger did his black eyes burn. 
 
 The Master paused and did he say : 
 "The highest bidder takes the lad." 
 
 He saw large profit rise before 
 
 His gluttony eyes — wished more he had. 
 
 With insolent air's the Turk's demand. 
 And scanning with his fiery eyes, 
 
 And with a lofty mien withal, 
 
 Which shows he does our friends despise : 
 
72 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 "What dost thou bid, thoti Christian cur?" 
 "Six thousand pieces," saith our friend. 
 
 A fiendish smile Al Hara wears 
 And gaze of hatred doth he bend 
 
 Upon Arcartez and Murat; 
 
 "Six thousand pieces gold — rich thou, 
 I'm richer though, and make it seven." 
 
 — Arcartez whispered Murat low. — 
 
 ' ' Aye, whisper whether best thou think'st 
 Thou can'st outbid my purse of gold," 
 
 The Turk Al Hara sneering hissed 
 And calmly did his arms enfold. 
 
 ^' Eight thousand—" "Nine—" "Ten—" 
 "Twelve—" "Thirteen—" 
 
 A mom^ent's pause — "Fourteen I say." 
 *' Fifteen," Al Hara quick returns; 
 
 And wicked smiles on his lips play. 
 
 — "Sixteen!" Arcartez slowly says. 
 
 — ' 'And Twenty ! ' ' thunders back the Turk, 
 " By Ali's heart thou art out-bid." 
 
 And Triumph o'er his brow doth lurk. 
 
 ' Tis true ; Arcartez is out-bid ; 
 
 His purse more money cannot call ; 
 The youthful slave he cannot claim ; 
 
 A glance of pity he lets fall 
 
 Upon the lad — the cruel doom 
 
 That waited him, and one so young. 
 
 ^'Thou'rt far less rich than first I thought," 
 Al Hara said and then he flung 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. /j 
 
 Victorious eyes upon the two, — 
 ''I'm richer than the both of you." 
 
 He then did gaze upon the lad, 
 
 And glance of Ownership he threw. 
 
 Around had gathered a small clan, 
 To watch this quite exciting scene ; 
 
 And there did stand a Persian Prince, 
 Who wore a countenance serene. 
 
 From castle in Teheran, he 
 
 Was reared in Irak-Ajemi. 
 The eldest born, as Padishaw 
 
 He next would Persian throne mou nt hieh 
 
 He watched within the slave mart, and 
 
 Saw Murat and Arcartez pause ; 
 No more they'd bid for that fair slave ; 
 
 The Prince did understand the cause. 
 
 He stepped up to Arcartez and 
 
 In Grecian tongue (he was well versed 
 
 In various language) quickly said : 
 
 "We will this Turk's fat pocket burst." 
 
 He whispered low to our two friends, 
 
 And added : " I am rich and vv ill 
 Help you to purchase this fair lad. 
 
 Bid; bid, I will thy pocket fill." 
 
 •Our comrades thank the noble Prince 
 And friends are they at the first glance ; 
 
 The Prince's person breeds full trust. 
 The Turk's eye darts a lightning lance ; 
 
y4 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 He partly understands, and with 
 
 Quick movement, payment doth he make 
 , To the slave dealer — 'tis in time. 
 
 The merchant doth the pieces take, 
 
 And sale is made ere our dear friends 
 Can use the Prince's gracious aid ; 
 
 The lad is lost — they bid in vain, 
 
 The Turk hath sealed the bargain made. 
 
 "Unbind the dog," Al Hara saith; 
 
 ' Tis done — the lad belongs to him ; 
 On this youth will he vent his spite 
 
 Against all Christian flesh with vim. 
 
 He turns to quit the market's hall 
 But first he to Arcartez speaks, 
 
 — A moment's silence falls around, 
 Then thus, the pause Al Hara breaks : 
 
 " Thou son of the accursed race. 
 Thou Western mongrel think'st that thotL 
 
 Could'st cheat a Moslem of that, which 
 He set'st his mind upon? And now, 
 
 ' ' Be damned till the Hegira lose 
 Its meaning which will never be, 
 
 — Mohammied, Ali, Abu Bekr 
 Blast all thy future destiny! 
 
 "This tender flow'r of Christian breed 
 Is mine — is mine — is all mine own ! 
 
 Thou fain would'st buy of me, but that 
 I would not sell 's already known. " 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. ys 
 
 And then Al Hara struck the lad, 
 
 With his clenched fist across the brow, 
 
 Then dragged the tott'ring youth out toward 
 The mart's exit with pace not slow. 
 
 ' ' By all the fiends of earth and air 
 This is more than my sight can stand, 
 
 — What e'er results from my rash, act 
 
 I'll face both law and vengeance's hand,"^ 
 
 Arcartez shouted, and he grasped 
 
 His sword, w^hich had seen use before, 
 
 And then rushed wildly on the Turk, 
 And felled him full length to the floor. 
 
 ■^fe 
 
 With the steel's tip, which blood draws front 
 The center of the Moslem's heart. 
 
 Which oozes in a furious stream. 
 
 That eye hath gleamed its lastest dart, 
 
 That lip hath ceased its eviled curse. 
 That arm is stayed which held its wont 
 
 To wage against all Christian flesh. 
 And urge its warfare front to front. 
 
 That soul were black we Christians say, 
 Mohammed's creed shows it were white. 
 
 Ah, strange the Moslem Night is Day! 
 Ah, strange the Moslem Day is Night ! 
 
 Their hatred 's love — their love is hate. 
 
 In Death they see a stated hour 
 Which is writ on the page of Fate 
 
 By spirits of the unseen power. 
 
yd COSMOFOLITANIA, 
 
 Arcartez turns unto the lad : 
 
 "Make thine escape while time there is." 
 And cuts the cords which bind his hands ; 
 
 The youth sees freedom true is his, 
 
 And makes exit into the street 
 And vanishes among the crowd, 
 
 And free he is — no one can claim 
 Nor 'gainst his actions raise a word. 
 
 Murat rushed up to his friend and 
 
 Said: "Fly, fly, dangerous 'tis to wait 
 
 And meet result of this rash deed." 
 
 ' 'Make haste, " the Persian Prince did state. 
 
 Arcartez turned and smiling, said : 
 
 "Nay, ne'er I'll flee — " " Friend for sake, 
 
 Make thine escape," Murat implored. 
 "I will since thou such pressure make." 
 
 Arcartez turned to quit the hall, 
 
 But now, alas, it is too late, 
 The Sultan's guards lay hands on him, 
 
 And bear him to the Seraglio gate. 
 
 ' Tis useless to resist, and he 
 
 Is forced through the Seraglio gate; 
 
 His life lies on the Sultan's word — 
 The lightest word that he doth state. 
 
 Three lower judges hear the case. 
 As stated by Al Hara's friends, 
 
 (Arcartez cannot say a word) — 
 The trio to the Sultan bends, 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. yj- 
 
 And make their explanation full, 
 
 Of how Al Hara met his death 
 By a vile hand which for no cause, 
 
 So wildly, did his sword unsheath. 
 
 The Sultan hears — then furious grows ; 
 
 He pulls his beard of snow white hue, 
 And chokes with rage ; then, at a slave 
 
 An onyx bowl, with true aim threw ; 
 
 His harem favorite he cuffed 
 
 A ringing blow across the ear. 
 Then slapped his Vizier's quite large mouth 
 
 When he did from the judges hear. 
 
 He raved, he fumed — the air was blue 
 With oaths, from which e'en the Genii 
 
 Would shrink and start and perhaps think, 
 Mahomet's curse were in that cry. 
 
 He ripped his silken pantaloons, 
 
 Upturned a basin of that pure 
 Attar of roses on the tiles. 
 
 Rage did his royal soul immure. 
 
 The servants fly, they deem him mad, 
 
 The judges are about to flee, 
 When, with his large and mighty palm, 
 
 He strikes their pates, and then roars he : 
 
 ''Know'st thou that I will ^iyq such death 
 To this miscreant of Christian blood, 
 
 Deggial's mind will be outdone 
 
 By me, as vengeance call I loud. . 
 
J 8 COSMOPOLITAN! A. 
 
 " By th' souls of all my former race, 
 Who dwell in lands beyond the Sun, 
 
 I'll raise such tortures on this dog, 
 
 Th' world ne'er'll forget the deed he's done. 
 
 ' ' Now bring this cur before my seat. 
 That I may'st gaze upon his face, 
 
 And better plan the notched degrees, . 
 To send him to a hotter place." 
 
 Before him is Arcartez brought. 
 
 Bound hand and foot, and helpless as 
 
 A new-born babe. The Sultan sees 
 The prisoner, and a frown doth pass 
 
 O'er his dark brow, which darker grows. 
 And now we see a speechless rage — 
 
 He shows his teeth, his eyes flash fire. 
 His chest in quick convulsions 'gage. 
 
 That hate is of inhuman birth, 
 
 That eye's fire is of devilish stamp — 
 
 Can he be man— he seems a fiend, 
 
 And hellish sweat, his brow, doth damp ! 
 
 He acts as if he had a fit — 
 
 A moment and it all is o'er; 
 He seats himself on the divan. 
 
 Then casts his eyes upon the floor, 
 
 And thinks ; he slowly strokes his beard. 
 And rubs his forehead with his palm, 
 
 Then says he in a meaning tone. 
 
 And with a voice controlled and calm : 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 7p 
 
 * ' This cur hath forty days to live ; 
 
 These forty days shall endure pain 
 •Such as no mortal e'er did bear 
 
 Before — nor's likely to again. 
 
 '' ' Guards hold him so that he can'st hear 
 The sentence, that I now declare." 
 
 The guards obey; Arcartez hears 
 His sentence, and he doth despair. 
 
 ' ' For forty days art thou to live, 
 And diest not till thy time is up. 
 
 But when thou dost die thou wilt be 
 A bleeding, mangled, limbless pup ; 
 
 "" The first five days thou'lt not be scathed, 
 
 But wilt be forced to listen to 
 "Thy sentence, as repeated by 
 
 The jailer, who w^U read it through ; 
 
 * ' The sixth day wilt thy teeth be drawn, 
 The seventh will see thine hair a-flame, 
 
 The eighth will see thine ears clipped close. 
 The ninth, the knife thy nose will claim ; 
 
 The tenth shall see thy toe-nails pulled. 
 Eleventh shall see thine ankles sawn. 
 
 The twelfth shall see two handless arms. 
 Thirteenth shall see thy knee-pans drawn. 
 
 * ' Then for ten days thou wilt be nursed, 
 
 And tended my physicians by, 
 To save thy life, for 'twould not do, 
 
 Before thy time to let thee die. 
 
8o COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ' ' Then when the twenty-fourth day dawns^ 
 We will thy wagging tongue clip out, 
 
 Then rest a day — the twenty-sixth 
 
 We will thine arms, at the elbow, sprout ; 
 
 "Then for twelve days thou wilt be carved, 
 Or rather what remains of thee. 
 
 By inches wilt thy flesh be cut, 
 
 And my court dogs will thus fed be. 
 
 ' ' The thirty-ninth morn we shall bathe 
 Thy aching wounds with Euxine salt — 
 
 We then thy two eyes shall jam out. 
 And next day we, thy life will halt ; 
 
 "The fortieth day will see thee boil 
 In water from Marmora's sea, 
 
 Till thou dissolveth into broth 
 
 And my pet lions will finish thee ; 
 
 "Thus will I make your death, a death 
 To serve as model for my race. 
 
 To grant just punishment to such 
 As wear thy cursed Christian face." 
 
 The Sultan now v/ears a fierce smile 
 And slowly puffs a Turkish pipe, 
 
 Which lights, a slave at the command — 
 Anon, he olive oil doth sip. 
 
 Within the strongly guarded jail, 
 Arcartez then is roughly thrown, 
 
 A giant Turk doth o'er him watch, 
 Who. hath a heart of granite stone. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 8i 
 
 The prison is a sep'rate tower 
 
 Of solid sandstone and contains 
 The Eastern torture instruments, 
 
 By which to make man cry his pains ; 
 Surmounted is it with a spire, 
 
 Which rises high in air, and 'tis 
 With shining brass all plated o'er— 
 
 A glit'ring sign of death is this; 
 
 Within the spire there hangs a bell, 
 Which strikes each morn, and warning 
 gives. 
 
 As indication to commence 
 The torture of the man, that lives 
 
 Within this donjon. Horrid thought 
 
 That cruelty should so exist, 
 To tear a mortal limb from limb, 
 And cords and muscles singly twist ! 
 
 The first day dawns, and strikes the bell — 
 Arcartez hears his sentence read — 
 
 His brain doth whirl, his senses swim 
 When he hath heard those words of dread. 
 
 The second day, repeated 'tis — 
 
 He will not hear — he cries, he yells 
 
 As loud as e'er his lungs allow ; 
 
 Too awful on his thought it dwells. 
 
 The Turk who reads, then quickly gags, 
 
 With silken cloth, Arcartez's mouth, 
 And forces him to hear — the taste 
 Of the silk cloth is quite uncouth. 
 (6) 
 
82 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 *'My fate is sealed," Arcartez moans, 
 
 "My life is doomed, aye, more than 
 doomed — 
 
 I ne'er sliall live in freedom more." 
 — No future hope, his mind illumed. 
 
 * * Oh, awful, awful, by degrees 
 To have my body mangled, hewn. 
 
 Yet live to bear the pain of it. 
 
 And to the dogs have my flesh strewn ; 
 
 ^' Have saw of carpenter, my bones 
 Cut through the marrow day by day. 
 
 My eyes dug out — my sinewy joints 
 Pulled then apart — oh mercy pray! " 
 
 Within a villa, 'mid the grove 
 Is seated Murat and the Prince ; 
 
 Ah, serious is the look they wear — 
 They talk affairs of consequence. 
 
 ''What can'st I do," doth Murat say. 
 
 "Thou? — naught; the Sultan would but 
 kill 
 Thee, if he find'st that thou wert friend 
 
 Arcartez to. So best keep still." 
 
 "But Prince I will learn what's his fate, 
 And lend a helping hand to save ; 
 
 I will, I say'st make bold a move, 
 And mercy from the Sultan crave." 
 
 ""Thou know'st him not, and 'twere in vain 
 
 To beg remittance of his fate 
 (Whate'er it may be.) But I, a prince 
 
 May plead his cause ere't be too late." 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 83 
 
 — ''And wilt thou?" — "Aye sir, to be sure, 
 I'll use what skill I can command, 
 
 In his behalf ; but first I must 
 
 Think means how best to make demand." 
 
 A pause then follows which long lasts ; 
 
 ' Tis broken by a servant who 
 Makes entrance and says: "Here's a lad. 
 
 Who fain would hold converse with you." 
 
 The lad (it is the slave set free) 
 
 Comes to their presence and they know, 
 
 The instant they set eye on him. 
 His true identity, although 
 
 He's 'rayed in different garb — of Greece — 
 Which sets to fine view his slight form, 
 
 A silken girdle binds his waist, 
 A satin cap doth his head adorn. 
 
 His name is Neon and he tells 
 
 Of how he accidentally met 
 A friend out on the city streets 
 
 Who did, for him, his new dress get. 
 
 "I, then," he said, "tried to find you. 
 But for a day I searched in vain. 
 
 But now success is my reward, 
 — Glad am I to see you again." 
 
 Sudden the Prince arose and said : 
 
 ' ' I have a plan, by which this youth's 
 
 And my aid can redeem your friend. 
 
 When we find, of where he's jailed some 
 truths. 
 
84 COSMOPOLITANIA, 
 
 Now let me here explain a bit, 
 
 To make what follows plain indeed^ 
 
 In truth, dear reader, for I am 
 A little mixed how to proceed. 
 
 I've got Arcartez in a scrape — 
 To safely get him out, I ween 
 
 I'll make a mess of my whole tale, 
 Unless I here stop to explain. 
 
 By George, I wish I'd never tried 
 To write a canto number three, — 
 
 The first two cantos were enough. 
 To suit a vast majority. 
 
 I ought to 've seen 'twas foolish, to 
 Try lead you through these Eastern lands — 
 
 I might have known I would get mixed, 
 And wreck myself on unseen strands. 
 
 Arcartez, Murat, Charles have had 
 Enough adventure with brave Carl, 
 
 Theresa, Hermann, Monpeire and 
 Fair Hesa and — I'm in a snarl 
 
 And can I — will you trust me full, 
 To end this third quite tedious part 
 
 Of Cosmopoli — what a name ! 
 
 Great heaven, where did that name start I 
 
 Let's see, let's see, just let me think 
 
 The finis that I can devise — 
 I have it, though to tell the truth. 
 
 Each verse I write is filled with lies. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 8s 
 
 I've got to make the Prince move round, 
 
 And Neon too distinguish must, 
 Some way or other — but I crawl 
 
 Upon a thin and tot'ring crust. 
 
 But as I've said I will explain 
 
 And end my tale without delay, 
 'Though I must make up what I write 
 
 That clear and plain, explain I may. 
 
 The Persian Prince when he left home 
 
 Teheran in, he traveled 'round 
 As incognito, so you see 
 
 His real cognomen no one found. 
 
 The name he took— well I won't say. 
 
 It doesn't matter to our tale, 
 But his true name was Neugarah, 
 
 Next Shah of Persia hill and vale. 
 
 His father who ruled from the throne 
 
 Was a Mahomet (so was he) 
 And as a natural consequence, 
 
 A friend of th' Sultan did pass he. * 
 
 Of course, as son of Persia's Shah, 
 
 The Sultan would, with welcome 'ceive 
 
 Prince Neugarah and thus bestow 
 All honors in his power to give. 
 
 The Prince's plan was this, in short : 
 
 A visit to the Sultan he 
 Would make and so be entertained— 
 
 Arcartez's fate he then could see. 
 
86 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 And Neon would his servant be, 
 
 And so have opportunity 
 To watch, and question unawares, 
 
 And secrets find, and curious be. 
 
 And when the hour was full and ripe 
 They'd find some plan to make escape. 
 
 (Dear reader, this is all the way 
 I can think to get out this scrape. ) 
 
 The Prince makes known his royal name,. 
 And is received the Sultan by, 
 
 With honors great — is entertained 
 In sumptuous style and luxury. 
 
 And Neon plays his part with zeal ; 
 
 He, with keen eye and ear keeps watch- 
 He questions slaves and servants close. 
 
 And so doth many secrets catch. 
 
 He doth discover where the jail 
 
 Located is, and with great skill 
 Acquaintance with the jailer makes, 
 • And, secrets more, his head doth fill. 
 
 Four days have passed — the fifth will see 
 Arcartez writhe with awful pain — 
 
 He forward looks but all is dark ; 
 And anguish great o'er him is lain. 
 
 ' Tis night. Within the palace halls, 
 An entertainment grand is held 
 
 In honor Neugarah of; and 
 
 Rich music on the air is swelled ; 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 87 
 
 An Eastern masquerade is held 
 
 Beneath the Sultan's royal arch; 
 Fair women's plump, delicious forms, 
 
 Hang to dark Turk's and forward march ; 
 
 And brilliant is the scene ; the fumes 
 Of sweet rose water scent the air. 
 
 Which sparkles from a fountain that 
 Is in the grand hall's central square. 
 
 And twice a hundred nightingales, 
 Sing forth a never-ending strain, 
 
 In cages of the purest gold 
 
 And made for this rich Suzerain. 
 
 And purple, white and ermine folds 
 
 Of finest tapestry that e'er 
 Was made by hand, adorn the walls, 
 
 — Embroidery from far Cashmere. 
 
 And rarest draughts, like water flow 
 Through silver basins — nectarines 
 
 Of various kinds invite the taste. 
 Extracted from the rarest vines. 
 
 At one end of the sumptuous hall, 
 
 On a divan of ermine hue. 
 There sits a maiden, near the door 
 
 Which leads, out the veranda to ; 
 
 The Prince speaks to her hurriedly ; 
 
 She did arise and leave the scene. 
 (As a fair Peri was she dressed. ) 
 
 On the veranda now she's seen. 
 
88 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 From off a chair, a bundle she 
 
 Takes in her arm, and then she hies 
 , In the direction of the jail 
 
 Where in strong chains Arcartez lies. 
 
 ' Tis very dark, and no one sees 
 The flying form — she soon arrives 
 
 At the jail door. The jailer starts 
 And at her his strong hand he drives. 
 
 *'Who'rt thou," he cries; "Sultana, I," 
 She makes reply, and he doth fall, 
 
 In deep obeisance at her feet. 
 
 Respect that name doth always call. 
 
 From out her bosom, quick she draws 
 A poisoned dagger, and stabs firm 
 
 Into the jailer's bended back. 
 
 And like an eel did he then squirm. 
 
 She strikes again — again — again — 
 
 The Turk is dead with lengthened moan. 
 
 Oh bloody deed ! 'tis well that Night 
 
 Her darkened cloud hath o'er it thrown. 
 
 The string of keys are quickly ta'en 
 From the Turk's girdle and the door 
 
 Of the jail tower is opened wide; 
 A minute and the maid walks o'er 
 
 The pavement of the prison house. 
 Unlocks the grating which leads to 
 
 The inner cell's o'er-powerful gloom. 
 And feels her way with movement slow. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. 8g 
 
 That night Arcartez slumbered ill — 
 
 His stony pillow gave no rest, 
 He tossed about in agony — 
 
 The heavy chains did mar his breast. 
 
 To-morrow torture would he see — 
 
 The first day of the thirty-five 
 Would then commence, in which he'd see 
 
 The sternest pain ; and he must live. 
 
 To bear it all — he could not die 
 
 Until the stated day arrived. 
 His brain was crazed — he strove to break 
 
 His iron chain — in vain he strived. 
 
 He fell into a nightmared sleep. 
 
 He dreamed that dragons, griffiths, sphynx 
 And winged tigers, Cerberus 
 
 Did bind his limbs with burning links. 
 
 Sudden he woke, with starting eyes ; 
 
 He felt his chains were loosened, he. 
 Soft in his ear , heard sound a voice 
 
 Which told him that he could be free; 
 
 ' Twas dark, he could not see who 'twas, 
 
 About to grant him liberty 
 But he was willing to receive 
 
 From any hand, leave to go free ; 
 
 The voice explains still farther, and 
 
 Arcartez fully understands 
 How he must act and play a part. 
 
 Which frees him from the Moslem hands. 
 
go COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 Dear reader, need I say that this 
 Bold maid who thus Arcartez freed, 
 
 Was Neon, — ^but perhaps you've guessed 
 Already as you this do read. 
 
 The bundle which young Neon took, 
 Contained a garb Arcartez for. 
 
 And thus disguised he made escape 
 And slipped quite safely out the door ; 
 
 He made his way and found Murat, 
 Within the villa — all unharmed. 
 
 Though still the dreadful sentence rung 
 Within his ears — ^but unalarmed, 
 
 He then soon grew. Ah narrow was 
 
 His 'scape from torturing Moslem hand — 
 
 The very thought did make him start, 
 
 And on his brow great sweat drops stand. 
 
 Arcartez then resolved to change 
 His whole appearance to the view — 
 
 He shaved his beard and smeared his face 
 Which did transform him through and 
 through ; 
 
 He cast aside his Grecian dress, 
 So that to see him now you would 
 
 Not know him though you did gaze firm 
 And name who 'twas you never could. 
 
 ' Twas well he did this for next morn, 
 The keenest search was ordered by 
 
 The Sultan, who was very wroth 
 
 That from his grasp his prey should fly. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. pr 
 
 And days passed on. A quiet life 
 Our friends did live for careful they 
 
 Could not but be, and not again, 
 Did deem it wise to rashly play. 
 
 A month is passed. Again the two 
 Do meet the Prince of Persia's land, 
 
 And Neon who so bravely freed 
 Arcartez from the Sultan's hand. 
 
 The Prince must bid adieu in haste — 
 
 For back to Persia must he bend 
 His steps, for regent must he be, 
 
 While doth his sire a visit tend 
 
 To courts of neighboring monarchs, so 
 
 A quick return is to be made 
 Teheran to. They thanked the Prince 
 
 And their respects before him laid. 
 
 The Prince said : ' ' Thou hast traveled far 
 And dangers met — escaped them all. 
 
 And I do hope, in perils which 
 
 Do follow, good chance you'll befall." 
 
 "Oh Prince," Arcartez answered, "I 
 Do owe my life — my all to thee — 
 
 And Neon too, how brave was he 
 To risk his life in saving me. " 
 
 ' ' Restrain thy praise, oh friend, for I 
 
 Did but (I hold) my duty do ; 
 I am a prince and therefore should 
 
 Show that I know my duty true. 
 
p2 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ''What's duty? — 'tis the path to fame, 
 To honor, glory and renown — 
 
 What's duty? — 'tis the law of life, 
 And is a virtue fain I'd own; 
 
 *'And I, a prince, should strive to gain 
 By hard experience, virtues good ; 
 
 To gain these, I must duties do. 
 
 And shirk them, friends, I never should ; 
 
 **To save a brave man's life is but 
 A duty stern, a duty grand — 
 
 Despite of creed, of faith, belief — 
 In spite of country or of land ; 
 
 ""Thou art a Christian loyal, true. 
 Whilst I Mahomet's faith hold firm — 
 
 If thou art brave and dost good deeds, 
 I question not of your faith's term." 
 
 So Neugarah spake to our friends, 
 And noble looked he — true a prince. 
 
 He left for home, and Murat said : 
 '*He never will from duty wince." 
 
 Now reader dear (for you are dear, 
 Or else you'd never read my verse) 
 
 I'll end this canto and commence 
 Another — may it be no worse. 
 
 This canto has exciting been ; 
 
 I killed Al Hara, or at least 
 I made Arcartez do the deed 
 
 But have myself from blame released. 
 
CANTO THE THIRD. pj 
 
 I got Arcartez in a fix, 
 
 But he's all right so do not fret, 
 And so is Murat too — and of 
 
 Young Neon we will more see yet. 
 
 Well, canto number three has run 
 Its snakey length past the two C's, 
 
 So I will now end up my song, 
 
 Or hymn, or lay or what you please. 
 
 ' Tis growing late, you must be tired 
 
 Of this third canto's lengthening mean 
 
 So here's the end— right here I say— 
 At verse two hundred ten I ween. 
 
 END OF CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
g4 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 CANTO THE FOURTH. 
 
 As waves break on the rising shore, 
 —As bubbles burst to thinnest air — 
 
 So are our hopes dashed on the rocks 
 Of Disappointment's cliff so bare. 
 
 Oh, many are the lessons, we 
 
 Must learn as years do onward roll. 
 
 And countless maxims must we write 
 Upon Experience's scroll. 
 
 This fact is plain — that we must live, 
 Exist on earth in clayey form ; 
 
 All subject to the pains and strifes 
 And miseries of this life's storm. 
 
 The ills we must meet face to face, 
 And the frustrations hand to hand. 
 
 We these must bear what e'er they be 
 With all the strength we can command. 
 
 Some meet them cheerfully, and some 
 Seek to evade with flying feet. 
 
 Just like the soldier who doth fly 
 Ere he the foe doth squarely meet. 
 
 Which is most glorious — to die 
 
 While fighting bravely on the field, 
 
 Or to be shot a traitor as — 
 
 In either case your death is sealed. 
 
 ^ 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. pj- 
 
 That man who Disappointment has 
 
 Had as a teacher, hard and firm, 
 Can meet Success the better for't, 
 
 For he then knows its proper term. 
 
 What is Success? — it is the End, 
 
 It is the meed of those who bear 
 Their fate with patient mind and heart, 
 
 How so e'er stern, and ne'er despair. 
 
 A truly great man meets a loss. 
 As though it were to him a gain — 
 
 It is a gain, for when he gains 
 
 Proportioned increase's his attain. 
 
 Those men are few who doth their means 
 
 Appreciate to their full worth— 
 Who rate the chances that they have, 
 
 On their true merit's face i'sooth. 
 
 The man who calls this life a mist — 
 
 A gloomy nothing, but betrays 
 The duties he was made to do, 
 
 And his worst nature's side displays. 
 
 These thoughts to Murat came one morn 
 
 As lost in reverie, he lay 
 Amid the grove. Within his mind 
 
 A gloomy sadness held its sway. 
 
 He thought of what he might have been. 
 He dreamed o'er chances he had lost, 
 
 His memory called forth vain regrets 
 Of aspiration idly tossed. 
 
9^ COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 He knew that he had lived a life. 
 
 Which had misspent his younger years- 
 He felt his life a failure, but 
 A pathway new to him appears. 
 
 There moments are, when it doth seem 
 As though our efforts were as naught — 
 
 These, warnings are given us to strive 
 The harder toward goals to be sought. 
 
 The man who strives will ever gain. 
 The man who shirks will ever lose 
 
 In the grand End ; but strive ahead, 
 And chances given ne'er misuse. 
 
 ' ' I had a father, " Murat sighed, 
 ' ' Who for the follies of my youth 
 
 Did in despair avaunt the world. 
 But blessed me e'en in my untruth ; 
 
 ' ' I turned his raven hair to white. 
 His swiftened steps to slackened pace ; 
 
 I drew the wrinkles on his brow, 
 I marked the care upon his face ; 
 
 "Great heaven, and I've thus lived out 
 These lengthened years and never cast 
 
 A solemn thought o'er my misdeeds — 
 My foolish, wicked, wicked past ; 
 
 ' ' I threw away a father's love, 
 I listened not my sire's advice — 
 
 Oh painfully the thought returns 
 Of how the the world did me entice. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. 97 
 
 ''How is it that I ne'er before, 
 
 Have been confronted with remorse 
 
 Or haunted been with visions ill 
 
 To show to me my wrong, wrong course." 
 
 A picture rises to his eye — 
 
 His boyhood home he views again, 
 
 His mother's saddened smile is bent 
 Upon her son — is it in vain? 
 
 She died when he was young — perhaps 
 
 If she had lived, her only son 
 Would ne'er have strayed 'mid wayward 
 paths, 
 
 And brought this grief his sire upon. 
 
 "Ah me, my days are as a blot; 
 
 I revelled in forbidden glees ; 
 My flow'ry days were nipped in bud. 
 
 With careless wassail, carnal companies. 
 
 ' ' I since have roamed, and did forget 
 
 Those actions did so carelessly ; 
 The thought now comes regretfully 
 
 With tripled meaning back to me ; 
 
 ' ' I see wherein I failed to do 
 
 The duty then upon me laid ; 
 But now new duties are at hand. 
 
 New paths for me to tread are made ; 
 
 ' ' And hitherto my life has been 
 But aimless without aim nor goal, 
 
 But striving to o'^rlook my faults, 
 And seeking to evade life's toll. 
 (7) 
 
pS COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ' ' My past shall serve as monument 
 To lead me in the proper way ; 
 
 My future wanderings shall have 
 A glorious object, now I say. " 
 
 Murat looks sad and pensive grows. 
 
 Time's course does onward roll a week — 
 He then Arcartez seeks alone, 
 
 And thus to him does he bespeak : 
 
 * ' As we have met, we needs must part — 
 ' Tis true we have companions been 
 
 A dozen years — have traveled far 
 And varied lands together seen. 
 
 *'But now, Arcartez, must we part, 
 I must adieu to thee extend, 
 
 I needs must quit this aimless life — 
 Farewell to thee, oh dearest friend." 
 
 *' Thou speak'st enigmas — why say'st thou 
 This life be aimless? Is't not brave 
 
 That we have been? Have not our arms 
 Been ever ready lives to save?" 
 
 ^'Arcartez, that thou lov'st good deeds, 
 I ne'er can doubt. Thy noble heart 
 
 Know'st not my gloomy past, or else 
 From me, before in haste, thou'd part. 
 
 * ' My life hath been that what it is. 
 To try forget the foolish deeds 
 
 Of youthful folly. But now forth 
 I, better days to live have needs. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. gp 
 
 * ' Farewell, Arcartez, that I love 
 Thee truly, heart not lips must say. 
 
 Our paths must sever — oh adieu, 
 
 Perhaps ne'er to meet in future's day ; 
 
 ''I cast aside a father's love 
 And left him friendless and alone ; 
 
 My future life will be to seek 
 Him, and my early sins atone." 
 
 He spoke. When to Arcartez's eye 
 A filmy mist shuts out their glow — 
 
 He gasps — he reels and staggers back — 
 A cry he utters long and low ; 
 
 Murat doth hold him or he falls — 
 But straightway is he calm again ; 
 
 ■Gaze at his face — alas how changed — 
 But note the deepened look of pain. 
 
 •^'Oh friend," cries Murat, "Tell to me 
 What means these symptoms dread, of 
 woe — 
 
 Is't caused by thoughts of parting? — is't 
 Because thou'd rather I'd not go ? " 
 
 ""Nay, Murat," says Arcartez low, 
 
 ' ' But thoughts forgotten come to me — 
 
 Thoughts of my home, of my lost home 
 Which ne'er by me can claimed be ; 
 
 *■ ' I never shared my father's love, 
 I was outcast from hearth and home. 
 
 For disinherited was I 
 
 And forced about the world to roam ; 
 
100 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 ' ' I wandered to forget the past, 
 
 And oh, at last succeed I did 
 When thou did'st bring it back to me — 
 
 Thoughts which Oblivion long hath hid ; 
 
 "Oh, Murat, my sire ne'er bestowed 
 That love which as a youth I claimed ; 
 
 I did revere him, but on me 
 
 His eye was turned with rage inflamed ; 
 
 ' ' I had a baby brother whom 
 I loved — oh God, I ne'er can tell ! 
 
 His tiny form beside me, I 
 
 Could always then contented dwell; 
 
 ' ' My father cursed me, sent me f orth^ 
 Because my baby brother loved 
 
 Me, better than it did himself. 
 
 I left his hall and since have roved, 
 
 ' ' Oh, Olga, plainly now thy face, 
 Thy baby face comes to my mind, 
 
 But thou art now almost a man. 
 Oh, Olga, can I ne'er thee find! " 
 
 If we could view the inward soul, 
 If we could the heart's secrets trace, 
 
 If we could read the past of all 
 Upon the features of the face, 
 
 How often would discerning eyes 
 See Sorrow gnawing the heart's core 
 
 Of gayest natures, striving on 
 
 To choke out saddened years of yore j 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. loi 
 
 How oft would seeming purest minds 
 Cast off their mask and show that hate, 
 
 Misanthropy lay in their breasts — 
 
 Where we thought truth, find untruth 
 sate — 
 
 Find Virtue but an empty boast, 
 
 Find Fame a tablet full of ill, 
 Find Great souls where we ne'er would think 
 
 To ^^2lXq\). because we never will. 
 
 Arcartez sits alone to-night ; 
 
 A cooling breeze sweeps from the sea 
 And fans his hot and fevered brow — 
 
 His nervous limbs move restlessly. 
 
 Murat hath left him and he feels 
 
 As though his own right arm were gone, 
 
 For friendship brightens like a light ; 
 How sad it is with that light gone. 
 
 The hours pass ; at length he sinks 
 Into a dreamy doze, and views 
 
 The scenes of home again revived — 
 He pardon from his father sues, 
 
 But 'tis not given — then he seeks 
 His brother Olga, but in vain — 
 
 His brother is not to be found — 
 Afar, his steps hath Olga ta'en. 
 
 The dream then changes ; by his couch '**' 
 He, Olga sees, whose youth-grown gaze 
 
 Is turned on his own smiling face. 
 And to him, low his brother says : 
 
I02 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 "Arcartez, meet we ne'er to part; 
 
 Thy wand'ring steps are at an end ; 
 Together we shall always dwell, 
 
 And each to each our loves extend." 
 
 But here the vision fades away — 
 
 Arcartez wakes — reality, 
 The picture dashes from his eye. 
 
 Back to his stern fatality. 
 
 The moon is high — its mellow rays 
 
 Pierce through the latticed window-shade ; 
 
 Across the pavement of the room 
 
 Are blackened stripes of shadow laid. 
 
 "Ah sweet my dream, and oh I pray, 
 That I may live to see it true. 
 
 Oh dream, come often in my sleep, 
 To better make me life pursue; 
 
 ' ' Are dreams precursors of events 
 Which hap to who so e'er they come? 
 
 Are they harbingers good or ill? — 
 
 Will my dream lend light to my gloom?" 
 
 "What did'st thou dream," low falls a voice 
 Upon his ear — he starts — he springs 
 
 Upon his feet — "Who'rt thou?" he cries 
 And for defense his sword he brings. 
 
 ' ' ' Tis only Neon — why dost leap 
 As though an enemy were I." 
 
 "I crave thy pardon, gentle youth, 
 For starting up so hastily ; 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. 103 
 
 ' ' Thou asked me of my dream — I thought 
 I saw portrayed the boyhood scene 
 
 Of home that once I loved so well ; 
 Distinct the picture was I ween." 
 
 Arcartez then relates the tale 
 
 Of banishment from hearth and home, 
 
 Of the young brother whom he loved — 
 But here, to grief did he succumb. 
 
 " What was thy baby brother's name? " 
 
 Then Neon asks Arcartez of; 
 Who did make answer: "Olga 'twas — 
 
 Oh dearly Olga did I love! " 
 
 A strange look comes to Neon's face ; 
 
 ''Why strange," he says, "That was my 
 name 
 When I was small — I Olga was 
 
 Known to my friends — the very same ; 
 
 " My sire for reasons ne'er I knew 
 To Neon changed me — did command 
 
 Me ne'er to answer Olga more, 
 And I obeyed his demand." 
 
 ' ' Your name was Olga years ago ? — 
 And changed to Neon by your sire, 
 
 For reasons which you never knew? — 
 And you the cause did ne'er inquire?" 
 
 '• '• Ah oft did I enquiry make, 
 
 But never did reply I get, 
 That satisfaction gave to me — 
 
 My father's lips seemed firmly set." 
 
I04 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Arcartez asked : ' ' Who was thy sire, 
 And where thy home? " and Neon said:- 
 - ' ' His name was Francis Angelo ; 
 
 In Austria's mountains was I bred." 
 
 Arcartez reeled and backward fell 
 Upon the couch ; the moon's pale ray 
 
 Lights up his face as though with death. 
 "What meaneth this" doth Neon say. 
 
 " My dream, my dream hath proven true- 
 It did forbode reality! 
 
 Thou art my Olga — thou art he ! 
 My brother Olga — thou art he! " 
 
 Reality — how strange a thing ; 
 
 ' Tis more mysterious than a dream ; 
 'But think how wondrous is the truth. 
 
 We are exactly what we seem. 
 
 The more distinctly things we see. 
 
 Observing carefully and true, 
 The stranger to us they appear — 
 
 Acquaintance breeds mysterious view. 
 
 But realize yourself alive, 
 
 But realize that you can walk. 
 And see, and hear, and smell, and feel. 
 
 Observe, and think, and breathe, and talk ; 
 
 Are these not wondrous when we think 
 
 And realize that they are so! 
 How strange this earth, the sky, the stars, 
 
 And that rain falls and breezes blow ! 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. 105 
 
 What workmanship a grain of sand, 
 How strange a globule of the sea ! 
 
 How wonderful Reality, 
 
 When we think of it carefully. 
 
 ' Tis thinking moves the world ; I oft 
 
 Imagine God a thinker deep. 
 Whose mind's work we an atom see — 
 
 This thought with force o'er me doth creep. 
 
 Reality ! — how strange a thing 
 That we exist — some misconceive 
 
 What life doth mean ; the more we think, 
 More strange impressions doth it leave. 
 
 To Austria's mountains now we soar — 
 Amidst Carpathian steeps we halt — 
 
 Beside a lake embasined in 
 
 With granite shafts which gleam like salt. 
 
 Oh, calm the scene ; the morning wind 
 
 Has died away and left the lake 
 Like burnished glass ; the foliage rich 
 
 Doth double beauty by reflectance take 
 
 And eastward, pinnacled on high 
 The round towers of a castle 'rise 
 
 Like sentinels to guard the peace 
 
 Which o'er this mountain valley lies. 
 
 One tower juts out o'er the wave, 
 And (from its alcove) one perceives 
 
 His image looking upward, when 
 
 The lake's disturbed not by the breeze. 
 
io6 COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 Most beautiful the scene to-day, 
 And sweetest fragrance fills the air 
 
 And nature's dulcet strains arise 
 And spread their music everywhere. 
 
 These castle walls have withstood siege, 
 
 And held the enemy at bay ; 
 These age-scarred piles have sheltered kings; 
 
 When foes their monarchs sought to slay. 
 
 Beneath this roof, nobility 
 
 Has met in regal festival. 
 And royalty has gazed entranced 
 
 Upon this scene — so beautiful. 
 
 And Austria's ' Female King ' has supped 
 Beneath these arches ; and the troops 
 
 Of armed legions reared their tents 
 Among these parks in serried groups. 
 
 These mounts have echoed back discords 
 Of raging strife — these skies have seen 
 
 Confusion reign below and ranks 
 
 Of men meet men and fall back — slain. 
 
 Oh, never may they see it more, 
 Oh, never may, repeated, they 
 
 View hostile forces clash in fight. 
 And meet in grim-faced battle 'ray. 
 
 Within the hall, alone is he. 
 
 Sits Francis Angelo and he 
 Is lost in thought, with head inclined, 
 
 And roams his mind in reverie. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. xoy 
 
 He was a soldier in his prime ; 
 
 ' Mid bivouac and field he won 
 His spurs ; at column's head he led 
 
 Advancing hosts the foe upon. 
 
 His three score years had not ta'en from 
 His bearing which bold time defies — 
 
 His stalwart frame reared 'mid the ranks, 
 Retains its strength by exercise. 
 
 That firm set mouth, those piercing eyes, 
 Proclaim a will, that ne'er retrenched; 
 
 That high set pride in battle won 
 
 Is borne with ease and 's never blenched ; 
 
 Those lips when uttering forth command 
 
 Had ne'er known disobedience 
 But that th' offend ne'er had chance 
 
 To offend again, for then — silence. 
 
 As lions oft give way to lambs. 
 
 When tigers could not overcome, 
 So mighty minds give way to love. 
 
 And to its magic charm succumb. 
 
 A mis-said word may fell a state ; 
 
 An atom's move an earthquake cause ; 
 A little boiling water raise 
 
 Volcanoes — small things are Earth's laws. 
 
 The motion of the ice-drop plows 
 And cleaves the mountain to a plain. 
 
 And grinds the granite rock to sand. 
 When other forces would be in vain. 
 
io8 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Sits Angelo alone ; he thinks 
 
 Of Neon who a year before 
 Had left this hall to travel and 
 
 Has ne'er been seen nor heard of more. 
 
 *'Oh Neon, Neon, my fond hope — 
 
 Oh where art thon — thou must be dead, - 
 
 Or else thou would'st returned ere now. 
 Oh come to me ere hope hath fled ; 
 
 ^' Why did'st thou wander from thy home — 
 Why did'st thou leave thy loving sire! 
 
 A year hath passed, and still away — 
 Hath evil overta'en thee, dire?" 
 
 He then arises — paces slow, 
 
 With head bowed down, the breadth of 
 hall. 
 ^'Relief, relief, I needs must find 
 
 Or into madness will I fall." 
 
 He seeks the lake shore and is soon 
 Within a skiff, and guides its course 
 
 Across the wave with vigorous hand. 
 Which clearly shows its muscled force. 
 
 The gentle zephyrs calm his nerves. 
 He feels his mind relieved of pain. 
 
 By charms from an invisible hand. 
 And soon he feels refreshed again. 
 
 Sweet solace Nature lends the heart. 
 
 Which bows beneath o'erburdening thought 
 Of sadness — she takes out the sting, 
 
 Which sorrow in the breast hath wrought. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH lo^ 
 
 The hours pass on. When from the shore, 
 
 Reverberating o'er the wave, 
 A hunting horn's clear notes arise, 
 
 And to his ear a sweet charm gave. 
 
 And Angelo turns quickly round. 
 
 Oh, how familiar is that sound 
 To his fond ear — he starts for joy — 
 
 With pleasure his whole soul doth bound. 
 
 '"Tis Neon's bugle that I hear— 
 
 Its echoing strains I recognize 
 Of old ; and dear that sound as with 
 
 Its swiftened wings to mine ear flies ; 
 
 ' ' My Neon hath returned at last, 
 And ne'er again from me will fly ; 
 
 Blow bugle, blow, thou sound'st more sweet 
 Than e'er thou hast in days gone by." 
 
 His shallop glides with stronger arm 
 On toward the shore ; at length he stops 
 
 And gazes with hand-shaded eye. 
 
 '"Tis strange," — the oar from his hand 
 drops. 
 
 Upon the granite dock he views 
 A stalwart form he does not know. 
 
 ''Who might this be? — a stranger he," 
 And rows the boat on shoreward slow. 
 
 He then arises in the skiff, 
 
 And gazes with an eager eye ; 
 " I am deceived — 'tis Neon not, 
 
 Those bugle notes were but a lie! " 
 
no COSMOFOLITANIA. 
 
 The stranger speaks : ' ' Know'st thou not me ? 
 
 I am thy son. " Cries Angelo: 
 **But not that son I dearly love. 
 
 My God, thee do I recognize! " 
 
 It is Arcartez whom he sees — 
 His hated eldest son returned — 
 
 The son he banished from this hall ; 
 His hatred now with new ire burned. 
 
 "Oh, never him," his heart doth say; 
 
 All hopes of Neon downward dash ; 
 His brain whirls 'round, he senseless falls 
 
 Into the water with a splash. 
 
 Arcartez throws his mantle back, 
 Accoutred leaps into the lake 
 
 And swims out to the sinking form 
 And doth to shore the burden take, 
 
 A youth now rushes to the dock — 
 ' Tis Neon, and his aid he lends, 
 
 Conveying Angelo within 
 
 The castle and to him extends, 
 
 The tend'rest care. The hours pass on 
 And Angelo still lay as dead ; 
 
 The doctors of the castle used 
 
 Their utmost skill. ' ' He lives, " they said. 
 
 He breathed again, and oped his eyes; 
 
 And Neon stood beside the bed — 
 "Ah — Neon — then deceived was I — 
 
 'Tis really thee," he slowly said. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. iii 
 
 ^'Yes, father, thy son hath returned." 
 ''Thy bugle note I really heard?" 
 
 ■^' Yes, I did sound its ringing blasts 
 To call thee — rightly thou inferred." 
 
 ' ' Was I deceived, or did I dream 
 
 I saw a figure on the" dock 
 Which I do hate as I do hell? — . 
 
 Was it not that gave me my shock?" 
 
 He then looked with a fearful eye 
 About the room — then did he say : 
 
 * ' Leave me alone with this my son ; 
 Depart ye all, — depart. Obey." 
 
 Alone with Neon is he left. 
 
 ' ' I thought thee dead, son of my heart. 
 And with despair my heart was filled 
 
 To think forever we must part. 
 
 " But now my almost deadened hopes 
 Rewarded are. Ne'er battle's gain 
 
 Were half so sweet, as this the hour, 
 Which sees me welcome thee again. 
 
 " These steeps to me had lost their charm ; 
 
 These halls to me were desolate 
 Without my son — thee Neon, thee ; 
 
 I felt I could not bear my fate ; 
 
 ■*'I, that had been through tempest's fire 
 Of bat'ling minions, and ne'er known 
 
 Fatigue nor fear — now sank beneath 
 The burden on my shoulders thrown. 
 
112 COSMOPOLITANIA, 
 
 ' ' But now I am myself again- ' 
 The sight of thee means life anew, 
 
 And days of happiness supreme — 
 Oh, bright the future to my view." 
 
 A week of time slips swiftly by, 
 When to his father Neon speaks : 
 
 ' ' Oh father, have I all the love 
 Which forth from thy fond bosom breaks?'* 
 
 ' ' Thou art my all, oh Neon, and 
 
 My love bursts forth for none but thee." 
 
 ' ' Another hath a better claim 
 To share that love than ever me." 
 
 ' ' W^hat mean'st by that, another — whom? — " 
 "My elder brother — thy first son," 
 
 Thus Neon says, " Arcartez he. 
 
 Whom thou should'st grant thy love upon. '" 
 
 The folded curtains of an arch 
 
 Are moved aside. Arcartez stands 
 
 With head inclined. Alas, how changed 
 Those features bound with Sorrow's bands. 
 
 Within his heart he hardly dares 
 To think that welcomed home is he ; 
 
 He hardly deems his father's hate 
 Is now expunged by time's decree. 
 
 What is't to love? — what is't to hate? 
 
 This bright as day, that dark as night ; 
 Why should the heart accept the black, 
 
 And cover up the white from sight? 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. ii^ 
 
 Oh Hate I thou lead'st the souls of men 
 Through evil channels — desperate deeds 
 
 Spring from thy venomed font, and Crime 
 Beneath thy spray quite freely breeds. 
 
 ' ' Cursed be the hour that brings thee here 
 To be the thorn unto this rose! " 
 
 Cried Angelo with passioned voice, 
 '' Thou'd now be dead if I had chose; 
 
 "But every joy must have its pain, 
 And every gladness have its woe ; 
 
 Thou art the sting to all my joy — 
 A curse upon thy head I throw! 
 
 ' ' Thou art the adder which darts out 
 
 Beside this lih' which I hold. 
 But now begone — begone I say ! 
 
 My vengeance on thee I unfold! " 
 
 '*Oh sir, I've wandered all these years, 
 And ne*er found rest — in vain, in vain — 
 
 None like the rest which home affords. 
 Receive thy wearied son again. 
 
 ** For thine affection ask I not, 
 And I will keep me from thy sight — 
 
 Let me again live 'mid the scenes 
 Of happy boyhood days so bright ; 
 
 "Oh sir, thou know'st not what it is 
 
 To be a wanderer on the Earth; 
 To be shut out from hearth and home — 
 
 All places else have little worth." 
 f8) 
 
^14 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Is Pity dead within the breast 
 
 Where beats a heart of sternest Hate — 
 
 Is Pity's grass choked by Hate's weeds, 
 And can there naught their growth abate? 
 
 For Pity is like the moon's pale beams 
 Which light the night of direful Hate ; 
 
 How dark that night without the moon, 
 How fearful and how desolate. 
 
 **No halls of mine shall shelter thee. 
 
 Go ! go ! — ^a vaunt thine hated face ! 
 Away ! seek rest where e'er thou wilt — 
 
 My house is not thy resting place ; 
 
 "What, hear'st thou not? Away I say — 
 Cursed be the hour that gave thee birth. 
 
 Go ! — ^go ! — thy presence bodes me ill — 
 Go, wander onward o'er the Earth!" 
 
 That night the hurrying clouds o'ercast 
 The firmament from steep to steep ; 
 
 The fleeting wind gave dismal moan 
 As 'round the high towers it did sweep. 
 
 The thund'rous storm is brewing up 
 
 Its fury for the climax, and 
 Its culminating forces pause 
 
 As if to wait th' storm god's command. 
 
 The rumbling of alarums grow 
 
 More loud — now low — now peal on peal, 
 Their echoes send from mount to mount, 
 
 Which seem in fright to backward reel. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. iis 
 
 A hush — a stillness, deep, profound 
 Adds terror to this fearful night; 
 
 The trebled blackness overhead 
 Seems to reveal itself to sight. 
 
 The wind is silenced as with fear ; 
 
 The Earth yet trembles with the shock ; 
 Now shafts of livid lightning dart 
 
 And bound themselves from rock to rock. 
 
 But see ! up in the round tower arch, 
 
 There stands a man, who dares the night — 
 
 A lightning flame illumes his face — 
 Arcartez 'tis revealed to sight. 
 
 But look ! his foot is on the rail 
 
 Of stony banister, and naught 
 Prevents his fall to depths beneath, 
 
 If dizziness to his brain is brought. 
 
 Now see ! — he rises to his height — 
 O horror! look, he gives a spring 
 
 Far out and downward like a shot. 
 As swiftly as a stone from sling. 
 
 The sulphurous glare of heaven's vault 
 Is now outpoured — down, down the form 
 
 Is hurried in its falling flight — 
 Now bursts the fury of the storm, 
 
 Just as the body strikes the waves ; 
 
 The clouds are op'ed, heaven's floods are 
 free. 
 And now belch forth their torrents, which 
 
 Descend to Earth most furiously. 
 
ii6 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 Sudden (as if Elysian halls 
 Their glories did spread to the view, 
 
 As if the suns of Paradise 
 Their brilliant splendor did undo) 
 
 The ebon curtains are withdrawn ; 
 
 Another world its wonders blaze, 
 But human eye may not withstand 
 
 The dazzling brightness of these rays ; 
 
 Now heaven's artillery vents its roar. 
 Ten thousand cannon mouthings loud, 
 
 And roll and roll, when — crash — when 
 crash — 
 Is't Earth's defiance sent to th' cloud? 
 
 The Earth recedes ; the might of heaven 
 Proclaims his strength's gigantic power. 
 
 How weak is man — an atom he — 
 He feels it too, in such an hour. 
 
 But look ! the round tower stan ds no more ; 
 
 This battlement which did defy 
 The 'sembled force of legioned men. 
 
 Is felled with vengeance from on high. 
 
 These granite walls are now laid low, 
 These turrets now can view^ no more 
 
 The expanse of lake, which centuries long 
 Has spread its breadth from shore to shore. 
 
 The work of man (oh, weakest man) 
 May not endure the might of heaven ; 
 
 His strongest walls are cleft in twain 
 By rage which from on high is driven. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. jjy 
 
 Arcartez sleeps upon a couch 
 
 ^Of moss:— his coverlet formed of grass; 
 The sighing undercurrents wave 
 His locks as slowly by they pass. 
 
 The lilies blossom o'er his grave, 
 
 Anemones lean o'er his tomb, 
 The water spirits sing their dirge 
 
 Of sadness for Arcartez's doom. 
 
 The fairies of the lake have reared 
 
 A catacomb of silver quartz, 
 And silent they its portals guard, 
 
 As if they loved him from their hearts. 
 
 The fairy maidens have entwined 
 A wreath of flowers round his brow ; 
 
 They look and weep o'er his sad face, 
 Which e'en with death did sadder grow. 
 
 This world is not a resting place, 
 
 But one of toil and pain and woe, 
 Of disappointment unto all ; 
 
 We sorrows meet where e'er we go. 
 
 And since 'tis so, life's secret lies. 
 In meeting Fate with smiling face, 
 
 In meeting buffets, scorns, rebukes, ' 
 And feel them all in their right place. 
 
 To end its course ere life hath run 
 
 Its natural length, is such a crime 
 As stands unnamed— the suicide's 
 
 A curse to all— of men the slime. 
 
ij8 COSMOPOLITANIA. 
 
 The suicide commits an act 
 
 Which in God's eye is worser far, 
 
 Than e'er a murderer can commit, 
 For I say self-destructionists are 
 
 The disencouragers of life ; 
 
 They clog the progress of the world ; 
 They stay advancement toward the Right — 
 
 Draw down the flag which Truth unfurled. 
 
 They set examples such as spread 
 Despair when e'er men try, and fail 
 
 In life's stern battle toward the Light ; 
 They weaken strength given to assail 
 
 The wrong. One life that is self-ta'en 
 Offsets an hundred brave-met deaths. 
 
 Are hearts less staunch than in years past? 
 Are Right's swords rusting in their 
 sheaths? 
 
 The wrong lies here — do mothers teach 
 Their babes aright, and grain their growth 
 
 In channels which will lead them on 
 To men of strength and men of worth? 
 
 We all can live if we succeed ; 
 
 More often far we flatly fail 
 To attain our ends — the common lot, 
 
 And then we need life's strongest mail 
 
 To meet that failure, not give up 
 In blank despair, but then again 
 
 To strive ahead with cheerful heart, 
 To strive ahead with might and main. 
 
CANTO THE FOURTH. iig 
 
 Success is made of failures, as 
 
 A house is based on blocks of stone ; 
 
 The more the stones, more firm the house 
 And so can ne'er be overthrown. 
 
 Arcartez, can I blame thee, for 
 
 Thy fatal plunge beneath the flood? 
 
 — I weep for thee, my heart forgives 
 Thine act, but Justice calls me loud 
 
 To say thou did'st a sin — the worse 
 That in thy power 'twas laid to do : 
 
 Thou'rt dead ; thy duty 'twas to live, 
 To bravely live thy hard Fate through. 
 
 No task is heavy, if the heart 
 
 Accepts it as a duty given ; 
 Life's heroes ever must so do 
 
 To win the cherished hopes of heaven. 
 
 END OF CANTO THE FOURTH. 
 
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