1 
 
OYLSOFCL DORADO 
 ByCHML€SKCeL€R 
 
 3^8 
 
 AA ROBERTSON 
 Sa.h Fpeittcisco 
 
 1 
 
LIST OF TITLES 
 
 The Dreamer and the Doer 
 
 Ode to the Pacific 
 
 To a Redwood Tree 
 
 Along Shore 
 
 A Dream of El Dorado 
 
 Invocation to California 
 
 To an Alaskan Glacier 
 
 New Year's Eve, 1900 
 
 The Way of the World 
 
 On Alaskan Waters 
 
 To a Mourning Dove 
 
 In the Canon 
 
 From the Hills Beyond the Bay 
 
 On Hearing Music in the Woods 
 
 Maiden Golden Hair 
 
 Alone at Monterey 
 
 A Song .... 
 
 At Kadiak, Alaska 
 
 A Summer Day 
 
 San Francisco from Afar 
 
 June in the Woodland 
 
 A Song of the Hills 
 
 To the University of California 
 
 Joy of the Passing Day 
 
 Autumn in the Sierras 
 
 The Night Fog 
 
 The North Wind 
 
 The Drouth 
 
 The Coming of the Rain . 
 
 Page 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 5 
 7 
 9 
 1 1 
 
 12 
 
 H 
 
 17 
 i8 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 24 
 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 29 
 30 
 31 
 
 3^ 
 33 
 34 
 35 
 36 
 38 
 39 
 40 
 
vi List of Titles 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 A Vision of the West .... 
 
 41 
 
 A Voice on the Wind . . . . 
 
 . 48 
 
 An Idyl of the Pines .... 
 
 49 
 
 WOODLAND TALES HESPERIAN 
 
 Induction 
 
 How Shasta Won the Fire . 
 
 Cohas and Godetia 
 
 The Descent of Boreas 
 
 Avila and Sturnellus 
 
 The War of the Titans 
 
 The Mist Maidens 
 
 Address to the God of Light 
 
 59 
 61 
 
 67 
 
 73 
 80 
 
 83 
 89 
 
 95 
 
IDYLS OF EL DORADO 
 
THE DREAMER AND THE DOER 
 
 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, 
 and the Word was God.— St. John. 
 
 Back of every mighty action stands the planner with 
 
 his plan, — 
 First the dreamer, then the doer ; first the Maker, then 
 
 the man. 
 Shall we lower rate achievements of the brain than of 
 
 the hand? 
 All we do is of the spirit if we rightly understand. 
 
 When the voice of Science tells us how through ages 
 
 man has grown. 
 How the earth is still in making, how the past is all 
 
 our own. 
 Shall we therefore count it lightly that the world was 
 
 first a word, 
 Spoken in a void of silence, by the startled atoms 
 
 heard ? 
 
2 The Dreamer and the Doer 
 
 For the world is still unfolding what the primal Master 
 
 planned, 
 Through eternity completing one sublimely thought 
 
 command. 
 And the dreamer is the doer if he dreameth aught 
 
 aright, 
 For his thought shall grow to action and his word 
 
 shall be the light. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 ODE TO THE PACIFIC 
 
 Ocean of oceans, mother of all seas, 
 Blue wilderness of passion and of peace, 
 Hoarse nursling of rude storms — thy wild increase — 
 
 O'er far leagues shelterless, o'er placid leas 
 Augustly swaying with majestic grace 
 All lesser monarchs of the watery race, 
 
 In thy vast breast are pent all nations' destinies ! 
 
 Here shall the drama of the world to be 
 
 Find theater to fit its mighty play ; 
 
 The leaguered hosts are storming round Cathay — 
 Saxon and Cossac strive for empery, 
 
 But still in foam thy heedless tide is tossed, " 
 
 For though all nations be with ruin crossed 
 Still shall thy royal trumpets echo full and free. 
 
 From cape of storms beneath the cross of night 
 
 To that north sea where. rove the Arctic floes. 
 
 Thy wind in unimpeded passion blows, 
 Thy waves unbridled onward urge their flight ; 
 
 But 'neath the turmoil all is calm and still ; 
 
 Thy mystic depths of silence scarcely thrill 
 Though nations battle on thy tide for wrong or right. 
 
 Thy realm is highway to the East and West, 
 And here the fleets of Christendom shall ride, 
 Bearing their burdens o'er thy bounding tide, 
 
4 Ode to the Pacific 
 
 By storms high tossed, by lulHng waves caressed ; 
 But thou shalt claim fond fealty of all 
 And rouse the nations with thy stirring call, 
 
 O mighty ocean, with thy proudly heaving breast ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 TO A REDWOOD TREE 
 
 Praise be to thee, 
 
 O time-wrought monument ! 
 
 Praise be to thee, 
 
 O sky-supporting pillar! 
 
 The stars that shine above thee, 
 
 The earth that dreams below thee, 
 
 The mountains that have borne thee, — 
 
 All loud proclaim thy glory. 
 
 All chant to thee their choral. 
 
 Thy shaft is as a column 
 Of heav'n's wide arch of azure. 
 Thy boughs are spread about thee 
 In stately sweeps of verdure ; 
 Thy form is robed in splendor. 
 With majesty invested — 
 O praise be unto thee. 
 Fair monument of time ! 
 
 The winds are thy companions. 
 The skies bend round thy branches. 
 The earth supports thy vastness, — 
 And all day long the soft winds sigh 
 Their song of praise to thee, 
 And all the night the wild winds weep 
 Amid thy shelt'ring arms. 
 
 O tree of trees, 
 
 O monarch of the grove, 
 
 The mountains sound thy praises. 
 
To a Redwood Tree 
 
 The birds declare thy glory, 
 
 The brooks proclaim thy wonder, — 
 
 And all day long the sweet springs sing 
 
 To thee their liquid lays. 
 
 And all the night they sob beneath 
 
 Thy broad, protecting arms. 
 
 Thou watcher over birds, 
 
 Thou guardian of flowers, 
 
 Praise be to thee 
 
 For all thy tender care ! 
 
 The white fog steals amid thy shade. 
 
 The sun streams dimly through. 
 
 The darkness falls about thy boughs ; 
 
 The solemn night is near, 
 
 But through its slumbering calm is heard 
 
 Thy hymning strains on high ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 ALONG SHORE 
 
 The salt tide glances as sunbeams break on its wind- 
 stirred breast, 
 
 And a sail-furled fleet from the strife of the deep set 
 free lies at rest; 
 
 In the wavering smoke stand the towers and spires of 
 the city of hills, 
 
 And an impulse of life on the long shore line through 
 the sea-mist thrills. 
 
 A steamer is pointing its high, sharp prow to the open sea, 
 
 A tug pants by with deep-voiced cry blown far and 
 free ; 
 
 At the docks is a forest of masts with a maze of cord- 
 age and spars, 
 
 And the flags of the nations are fluttering there 'mid 
 the stripes and the stars. 
 
 The sun rolls off in the mist o'er the black-scarred 
 
 brow of the town. 
 And the fog for an instant is burnished with gold like 
 
 a vanishing crown; 
 Then one by one along shore shine the lights where 
 
 the ebb-tide laves, 
 Red and green 'mid the gold constellations that ripple 
 
 their glow on the waves. 
 
 But the waves moan faintly of battles that busy the 
 
 world afar, 
 And the echoes of strife impending the peace of the 
 
 evening mar. 
 
8 Alo7ig Shore 
 
 I know not what burden of commerce the great sea 
 
 bears on its tide, 
 But O for the burden of sorrow that follows the spirit 
 
 of pride ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 A DREAM OF EL DORADO 
 
 In a dream world I am drifting 
 
 Down the misty plains of time, 
 And I see a pageant shifting 
 
 'Mid the measures of my rhyme, — 
 Caballeros proudly riding, 
 Out of mystic canons gliding; 
 On their Arab chargers prancing 
 With their spears and sabers glancing 
 Gaily as in olden time. 
 
 There are padres solemn chanting 
 
 Vespers in the evening light. 
 As the sun's last rays are slanting 
 
 On their crucifixes bright. 
 While the mission bells are ringing 
 And the neophytes are singing. 
 As the golden mist comes sweeping 
 From the solemn sea, low weeping 
 In the early hush of night. 
 
 On the harbor's heaving water 
 Rides a gallant Spanish ship. 
 And the commandante's daughter 
 Lingers there with trembling lip. 
 For her cavalier is calling 
 And the night about is falling. 
 While the purple sails are filling 
 And her heart with grief is thrilling 
 With the vessel's rise and dip. 
 
lo A Dream of El Dorado 
 
 Adios, O love-lorn maiden, 
 
 Sail adown the leaden tide ! 
 Precious is thy vessel, laden 
 
 With a prince's peerless bride. 
 Leave the golden shore behind thee. 
 May no bitter thought remind thee 
 Of the rapture that has vanished, 
 From thy El Dorado banished 
 By thy father's haughty pride. 
 
 El Dorado with its golden 
 
 Sands beside the shining sea. 
 With its splendor in the olden 
 
 Days of caballeros free, — 
 With its wealth of hidden treasure. 
 With its passion and its pleasure, — 
 How its spell about us dallies. 
 Haunting coast and peaks and valleys 
 With its mystic chivalry! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 INVOCATION TO CALIFORNIA 
 
 Guerdon of gold of the sun is thy treasure 
 From glist'ning Sierra to foam of the ocean, 
 
 With fair flower-children in hosts beyond measure 
 To yield thee their beauty with boundless devotion ! 
 
 Royal the reaches of wheat in the valley ! 
 
 Abundance has blessed the wide wastes of the plain, 
 And hosts of the strong-handed harvesters rally 
 
 At dawn-flush to garner the glittering grain. 
 
 Full hang thy orchards with fruitage of summer, 
 Thy citrons 'mid blossoms bless winter and spring, 
 
 But autumn, the radiant year-cycle's last comer, 
 Bears, clustered in purple, the grape which'is king. 
 
 Gold, in thy rock-girded fastnesses hidden. 
 The magic of science shall wrest from its store ; 
 
 Insatiate progress, advancing, has bidden 
 That bounty of earth be for man evermore : 
 
 For man as a trust and a torch, not to squander 
 In riotous revel through profitless years. 
 
 But a power that bids him to pause and to ponder 
 On being and beauty, on triumph and tears ! 
 
 Here, here where the breezes of freedom are blowing, 
 Shall beauty burst full into flow' rage to-day. 
 
 And the will to do right shall, in proud hearts, be 
 growing. 
 With might to command and with strength to obey. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 TO AN ALASKAN GLACIER 
 
 Out of the cloud-world sweeps thy awful form, 
 Vast frozen river, fostered by the storm 
 Upon the drear peak's snow-encumbered crest. 
 Thy sides deep grinding in the mountain's breast 
 As down its slopes thou plowest to the sea 
 To leap into thy mother's arms, and be 
 There cradled into nothingness. How slow, 
 How imperceptible, thy ceaseless flow. 
 As one with an eternity unspent 
 Wherein to round thy task of wonderment ! 
 Thy strength resistless is as will of fate ; 
 The granite ground to sand beneath thy weight, 
 The mountains hollowed out with furrows deep. 
 The sculptured peaks that totter from their steep, 
 All bear the matchless impress of thy skill. 
 Grim mountain hewer! With a sudden thrill 
 Great bergs crash thunderously beneath the tide. 
 And, slow emerging, o'er the waters ride 
 Like boats of pearl slow floating to their doom, 
 W^hich, fondly, the soft lapping waves consume. 
 
 I walked erstwhile upon thy frozen waves, 
 
 And heard the streams amid thy ice-locked caves ; 
 
 I peered down thy crevasses blue and dim, 
 
 Standing in awe upon the dizzy rim. 
 
 Beyond me lay the inlet still and blue, 
 
 Behind, the mountains loomed upon the view 
 
 Like storm-wraiths gathered from the low-hung sky. 
 
 A gust of wind swept past with heavy sigh, 
 
To ajt Alaskan Glacier 13 
 
 And lo ! I listened to the ice-stream's song 
 
 Of winter, when the nights grow dark and long, 
 
 And bright stars flash above thy fields of snow, 
 
 The cold waste sparkling in the pallid glow, 
 
 Or, when the storms wail round thy peaks and spires, 
 
 Playing weird notes upon thy ice-wrought lyres 
 
 Until the shuddering pinnacles, astrain, 
 
 Tumble and crash amidst the seething main. 
 
 Years, centuries and eons thou hast known. 
 
 Waxing and waning in the wilds alone. 
 
 Hoar mountain sculptor, shaper of the earth ! 
 
 The crystals of the snow which gave thee birth, 
 
 Renewing still thy life, are o'er thee spread. 
 
 And, as they fall, thou quiverest in thy bed, 
 
 Stretching thy vastness down its narrow way 
 
 And roaring like a god in fierce dismay ; 
 
 Thus prisoned, eager in one mighty throe 
 
 To leap into the sea and end thy woe ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1900 
 
 Round swings the world until the curtained sun 
 In leaden mist is lost beneath the sea ; 
 
 Upon this Western shore the day is done, 
 And with the day a year has ceased to be. 
 
 Time looks not backward in its flight sublime, 
 But, as the earth spins on from hour to hour, 
 
 Sweeps forward grandly toward its golden prime 
 And out of chaos shapes a world of power. 
 
 O, night that marks time's madly speeding course, 
 Within the shadow of thy vasty deep 
 
 Are pent new centuries of endless force 
 That wait in sequence o'er the world to sweep. 
 
 What triumphs shall they bring and what defeat 
 In these wide spirit-halls of mighty earth ? 
 
 This year two peerless cycles proudly meet. 
 And may the new prove worthy of its birth ! 
 
 Bethink thee, brothers, how the ages run, 
 Bethink thee how the dizzy cycles roll. 
 
 As each new year sweeps round the radiant sun. 
 And Fate holds up on high her flaming scroll ! 
 
 Shall Fate's stern finger point in silent scorn 
 When in the scales the centuries are weighed ? 
 
 Shall you and I be judged that awful morn. 
 And shall we hear our summons unafraid ? 
 
Neiv Year's Eve, ipoo 15 
 
 Come, then, O brothers, ere the age be spent. 
 Let us be up and doing while we may, 
 
 To spread a spirit of subHme content. 
 To build the promise of a purer day. 
 
 Of old stood Babylon beside the stream 
 And Athens reared her pillared temples fair, 
 
 But lo ! they vanished like a summer dream ; — 
 O, living age, forget not and beware! 
 
 Yet would I not see men too fondly turn 
 
 In backward gaze, nor rest with what is done; 
 
 Still forward must our eager longings yearn. 
 Still greater victories must yet be won. 
 
 The new year dawns with plenty and with peace 
 
 On these blest shores, these teeming hills and plains ; 
 
 The fertile fields are ripe for their increase 
 And smile in welcome to abundant rains. 
 
 But Saxon armies fight on distant strands : — 
 
 England, America, with shot and shell 
 March in the wilderness gf hostile lands, 
 
 The Filipino and the Boer to quell. 
 
 O God, it is a fearful die to cast 
 
 When growing nations clash with rights of man ! 
 The challenge " Progress ! " round the world has passed 
 
 As ne'er before since time's swift course began. 
 
 The weak must die, the low be swept away, 
 For sterner stock is scattered o'er the earth ; 
 
 But shall we in our heart of hearts not say, 
 
 "'Tis not for you and me to judge men's worth?" 
 
1 6 New Year's Eve, igoo 
 
 O Judge of judges, may Thy will prevail ! 
 
 And if the law of progress be fulfilled, 
 O never may its march of triumph fail 
 
 To listen to Thy counsel, love enthrilled ! 
 
 May Christ in countless men be born this year 
 To do their Father's bidding near and far ! 
 
 New cycles call us forward without fear 
 While o'er us shines in heav'n love's guiding star! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 17 
 
 THE WAY OF THE WORLD 
 
 The old world goes its way, my dear, 
 
 The old world goes its way, 
 
 Though hearts may break and lives may fail, 
 
 Though rosy cheeks grow wan and pale, 
 
 We do but as we may, my dear, 
 
 We do but as we may ! 
 
 The old world goes its way, my dear, 
 The old world goes its way ; 
 And some rejoice while others weep. 
 And some have sown who may not reap; 
 For time bears all away, my dear, 
 For time bears all away ! 
 
 The old world goes its way, my dear, 
 The old world goes its way ; 
 But, spite of cares and spite of tears, 
 A mighty purpose thrills the years. 
 And who would say it nay, my dear, 
 And who would say it nay? 
 
1 8 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 ON ALASKAN WATERS 
 
 Fiords of the West's north shore, where peaks austere 
 Are cloudward thrust, enrobed in gHst'ning snow. 
 With ice-streams hoar that slowly tideward flow. 
 
 Sculpturing their cliffs and crags that proudly rear 
 
 Their pinnacles amid the heights of fear, — 
 Your wonders round my wildered senses grow 
 As still they shift and added splendors show 
 
 Where green hills past the sparkling sea appear. 
 
 What joy is this, to float upon the tide, 
 So blue, so beautiful, past shores that rise 
 Like portals to enchantment's fair demesne, 
 'Mid islets forested to gently glide, 
 Where every turn is rife with glad surprise 
 And fancy revels in the changing scene. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 TO A MOURNING DOVE 
 
 Summer has come with sun-seared valleys wide, 
 The^birds are all a-hushed in noon-day heat ; 
 
 The ^^rs linger by the streamlet's side, 
 When sounds the dove's fond, liquid murmur, sweet. 
 
 Fleet-winged haunter of June's golden plain. 
 There is in thy sweet-murmured, lingering notes 
 
 Such dreamy love, such spell of brooding pain 
 As throbs from out no other birdling throats. 
 
 I love thy quivering cry on flashing wing, 
 I love the mournful rapture of thy call ! 
 
 Though other birds with strains elate may sing, 
 Some heavy sorrow holds thy heart in thrall^ 
 
 Methinks thou art a high-born maiden, spelled 
 In faery day for thy dear love's despite ; 
 
 Thy heart's fond passion still lives on unquelled, 
 Only thy maiden form has vanished quite. 
 
 O couldst thou have my lips thy grief to speak, 
 What passion, what wild plaint we then should hear! 
 
 Now tremble from thy tender little beak 
 No strains save dreamy notes of longing drear. 
 
20 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 IN THE CANON 
 
 I sat on the bole of a laurel tree, 
 
 The wren was my only guest, 
 And the wind blew free with the witchery 
 
 Of a spirit of sweet unrest. 
 
 It ruffled the wren's prim breast and fled. 
 
 It trembled the hazel spray, 
 It rustled the bed of sere leaves, spread 
 
 O'er the path in its winding way. 
 
 Aloft in the lattice of green and blue, 
 
 Where the sky and leaves enwove, 
 The sun burst through, and its radiance grew 
 
 To a golden lamp in the grove. 
 
 Methought I saw in the golden gleams 
 
 A flash as of spirit wings ; 
 Lo ! the whole grove teems with the host of dreams 
 
 And the choir celestial sings ! 
 
 It sings to the leaves upreached in prayer, 
 
 It chants to the blithesome birds ; 
 Its sweet tones bear a message rare 
 
 Of love too deep for words. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 21 
 
 FROM THE HILLS BEYOND THE BAY 
 
 A NOCTURNE 
 
 The great world slumbers, silent at my feet. 
 Hushed is the air ; the canon's breezes, sweet, 
 Through mossed oaks breathe low their night refrain, 
 Down wandering to the dark of dreaming plain. 
 
 High in the domed serene the orb of night 
 Shines 'tween the cloud-host's wings of milky white ; 
 Athwart the bay its pale effulgence gleams. 
 Lighting the Gate of Gold with mystic beams. 
 
 Through that gold gate, at sea behold, a star 
 Flashes its beacon from an islet far! 
 Quivering like some fair spectre of desire — 
 Some spirit phantom robed in flashing fire. 
 
 Ah, clearly through the Golden Gate of dreams 
 A star across the night of slumber streams ! 
 And when I waken I shall call it mine, 
 Clasping it next my heart in close entwine. 
 
 No beacon for a vessel drifting lone. 
 By alien breezes o'er the ocean blown. 
 Shall be my star, but in the blue above 
 An orb of light — a world of joy and love. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 ON HEARING MUSIC IN THE WOODS 
 
 Lying 'neath the greenwood tree 
 What a pageant I did see, — 
 SunHght's play of golden green, 
 Purple shades that lurked between 
 Mighty shafts with tops a-sway, 
 While each drooping fringed spray 
 Tossed before the summer breeze, 
 Making music sweet to please 
 Squirrel lithe or sporting bird : 
 Such a stir of leaves I heard, 
 Such a sweep aeolean ! 
 Then the swelling pulse of man 
 Throbbed in rhythmic melodies 
 From the magic of the keys. 
 Strains of great Beethoven rang 
 While the birds above me sang. 
 And my spirit caught his fire. 
 Thrilling through the woodland choir, — 
 Caught the sorrow of his strain. 
 Caught the triumph over pain. 
 Faster swept the tones and faster 
 With the passion of the master, 
 Till my quiet woodland bower 
 Trembled with his awful power, 
 Shook as with the trump of fate 
 Blown by angels at the gate, 
 While the wind's low sigh had grown 
 To a mighty spirit moan, 
 To the murmur of the dead 
 
On Hearing Music in the Woods 23 
 
 Floating from the blue o'erhead, 
 With celestial whisperings. 
 There was pari of cloudy kings, 
 Clash of arms and warring cries, 
 Strains of peace and maiden sighs. 
 Then the mighty music ended 
 But my spirit still contended 
 Till the busy stir of life 
 Drew my fancy from the strife, 
 Drew me to the rippling green 
 Round my woodland bow'r serene. 
 
24 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 MAIDEN GOLDEN HAIR 
 
 Sweet maiden Golden Hair ! — 
 
 Never shone half so fair 
 
 Sun in the morning mist, 
 
 Glowing 'mid amethyst, 
 
 As thy sweet presence shines full upon me. 
 
 Songs of the birds that pass. 
 
 Reed pipes of ocean grass, 
 
 Plashing of mountain rill, 
 
 Redwoods with joy athrill, — 
 
 All chant thy praise by the West's golden sea. 
 
 Sweet maiden Golden Hair, 
 
 Since thy fond spirit rare 
 
 Rose in my firmament, 
 
 Stars through the darkness sprent 
 
 Waned in the azure beneath thy clear gaze. 
 
 Shadows of clouds above 
 
 Brighten through perfect love. 
 
 Discords of music blend, 
 
 Echoes no more contend, 
 
 Shaped by thy presence to paeans of praise. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 25 
 
 ALONE AT MONTEREY 
 
 The sea throbs faintly at my feet, 
 Amid the rocks it swashes low, 
 In pale green sweeps 
 And purple deeps 
 It undulates with tireless beat. 
 It pulses in unending flow. 
 
 All green and brown the seaweed clings 
 To pallid rocks, wave-worn and grim ; 
 The mountains rise 
 To misty skies, 
 The wind amid the cypress sings, 
 And sea-birds wander dark and dim. 
 
 O might I on their pinions span 
 
 The misty leagues 'twixt thee and me, 
 Above the foam 
 My love I'd roam ; 
 With tireless wings the air I'd fan 
 Until I rested safe with thee! 
 
26 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 A SONG 
 
 O well-a-day, well-a-day, summer is merry 
 And my love hath a mouth like a wild ripe berry, 
 With her sun-burnt cheeks and her wind-tossed tresses, 
 That flutter to welcome the breezes' caresses. 
 
 well-a-day, well-a-day, we went a-straying 
 
 Where flowers were blooming and birdlings a-playing. 
 
 1 laughed with my love while the birdies sang nigh us 
 And the sweet- voiced stream went a-pattering by us. 
 
 O well-a-day, well-a-day, youth is soon over 
 For time is a thief and the year is a rover! 
 So fondly I kissed my love, laughing in glee, 
 And under the oak bough my dearie kissed me ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 27 
 
 AT KADIAK, ALASKA 
 
 Read on the Harrintan Expedition^ July 4, 1899. 
 
 Is this the wilderness — these green -sward hills, 
 These wastes of lupine, wind-flower and of rose, 
 
 These slopes of heather by the mountain rills 
 O'erhung by skies of gold through day's slow close, 
 Where one long lotus dream obscures all human woes ? 
 
 Here sing the birds on height and in the glade ; 
 The warblers flash afield like waifs of gold. 
 
 The thrushes chant their vespers in the shade. 
 The northern robin's pipe afar is rolled. 
 While in the Russian church the bells are clanged 
 and tolled. 
 
 We rovers, tarrying here this festal day. 
 Still see the flag of home wave proud on high, 
 
 Still find a welcome on our seaward way, 
 For where the flag waves, home and friends are nigh ; — 
 The eagle flaps his wings and makes exultant cry. 
 
 His cry is liberty as heaven's high dome 
 He scales on peerless wing, and we in kind 
 
 Shout back our answer as we westward roam. 
 Trusting our voicing to the heedless wind 
 That haunts the misty sea, a pilgrim lost and blind. 
 
 Call ye this liberty, where law's strong hand 
 
 In nerveless palsy falters over wrong — 
 Sing ye of freedom in a lawless land ? 
 
28 At Kadiak, Alaska 
 
 The very winds shall mock your idle song 
 And in a wail each syllable of pain prolong. 
 
 We who have failed to rule a wilderness 
 Now preach of liberty in tropic seas ; 
 
 Forsooth our sway the Orient hordes shall bless 
 While politicians trim to every breeze, — 
 O God, must our dear sons be slain, such men to 
 please ? 
 
 O, teach us in this wilderness Thy ways, 
 And by the mountains let Thy law be sung ; 
 
 No work of man endures which disobeys 
 Thy bidding; every clod shall find a tongue, 
 And liberty by bells innumerous be rung. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 29 
 
 A SUMMER DAY 
 
 The rain is over 
 And grass and clover 
 
 On rolling hill 
 Are brown and yellow, 
 While fruit grows mellow 
 
 For Hp and bill. 
 
 The dust is flying; 
 Wild flowers are dying 
 
 Beside the way. 
 Fledglings are winging; 
 The brook's sweet singing 
 
 Is stilled to-day. 
 
 The buzzard is wheeling 
 Where sea-mist stealing 
 
 Enfolds its wings; 
 The night is falling 
 While thrush, loud calling, 
 
 His matin sings. 
 
30 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO FROM AFAR 
 
 The jays laugh shrill, the flicker calls, 
 And — hush ! the silken sweeping breeze 
 
 'Mid oak boughs rustling swells and falls ; 
 Far spreads the plain 'neath branched trees. 
 
 The waning sun with silver glow 
 
 Is flashed upon the water wide. 
 And stately ships are drifting slow 
 
 Across the sparkling reach of tide. 
 
 How peaceful seems the scene outspread — 
 
 But O the city's line of blue. 
 What hopes and fears there nourished 
 
 Are panting 'neath my placid view ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 JUNE IN THE WOODLAND 
 
 Vireo on oak bough, 
 
 Swallow on the wing, 
 Sun upon the glistening stream, 
 
 Joy in everything ! 
 
 Stirrings in the trout pool, 
 
 Whir of wings above, 
 Insects humming in the trees, 
 
 Distant coo of dove ! 
 
 Blossoms on the buckeye, 
 
 Perfuming the breeze. 
 Murmurs of the rippling brook, 
 
 Voices from the trees ! 
 
 Love amid the tree-tops. 
 
 Love amid the vale. 
 Bill to bill, as lip to lip, 
 
 Tells the tender tale 1 
 
32 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 A SONG OF THE HILLS 
 
 O, 'twas over the hills, of gold and green 
 
 And under the bright blue sky 
 We danced away 
 At the break of day 
 To sing where the poppies their cups did lean, 
 
 To shout as a hawk swept proudly by. 
 
 O, 'twas hand in hand that we danced along 
 
 To the shadowy, fern-paved dell. 
 Where the trilium swayed 
 In the cool, sweet glade. 
 Seeming to answer our happy song 
 
 With its tender blessing, "All's well, all's well! 
 
 We loitered in passing beneath the trees 
 And joined in the wind's low prayer. 
 
 We whispered our love 
 
 While the breezes above 
 
 Murmured to me, " Louise, Louise," 
 And methought 'twas of all fair days most fair. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 33 
 
 TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Here, where the gentle hand of God, outspread 
 In benediction, has bestowed such blue 
 And purple mist upon the bay, such view 
 
 Of ocean far through golden portals led, 
 
 Or, in the gloaming, such a royal red. 
 Sweeping the tide and spreading high its hue 
 Like banners of Cathay flung wide, there grew 
 
 A consecrated pile to learning wed. 
 
 O may the stones here reared make mute appeal 
 With their dumb eloquence for beauty's dower. 
 
 And may they be the center, whence shall steal 
 A presence through the land, a might, a power 
 
 Shaping the West to ends more fair and strong. 
 
 Finding expression meet in toil and song. 
 
34 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 JOY OF THE PASSING DAY 
 
 O for a lilt of the lark on the lea 
 And the oriole's caroling, joyous and free ! 
 Sing cheerily, cheerily, lightsome and loud. 
 Summer is round us with never a cloud ! 
 
 O for a song of my love in the home. 
 And the laughter of children at play in the gloam ! 
 Sweet sound my birdlings, their pinions half grown, 
 But O should I waken to find they had flown ! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 35 
 
 AUTUMN IN THE SIERRAS 
 
 The gentle summer zephyrs yield their sway 
 
 To blustering blasts that down the frigid stream 
 Of high Sierra glacier bear dismay 
 
 To tender foliage when autumn's gleam 
 Of golden sun has lost its quick'ning charm 
 And fails the frost king's legions to disarm, 
 As on they bear their flags in bright array. 
 
 The pine trees sway their tasseled boughs aloft 
 As rude winds revel at their wanton will, 
 
 Making wild music 'mid their tops, while oft 
 The lone woodpecker calls in accents shrill 
 
 And asters tremble with foreboding fear. 
 
 The streamlet sobs while all the leaflets dear 
 
 Are fluttering to the earth with wailings soft. 
 
 The mice beside the runnels seek retreat. 
 
 The prudent squirrel finds his winter nest, 
 The swallows wing them south on pinions fleet, 
 The flowers shrink upon their mother's breast. 
 Now sobs the cold bleak rain on leafless trees 
 And on the sedgy pools of mountain leas. 
 Proclaiming weary autumn's swift defeat. 
 
36 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 THE NIGHT FOG 
 
 Misty wraiths of mindless ocean, 
 
 Wreathed spectres shoreward stealing, 
 Phantoms in a still commotion 
 
 Aimless onward rolling, reeling,— 
 Haunting seas with silent winging, 
 
 I^ingering o'er the land so dreary. 
 Freight of tears to flowers bringing, 
 
 Ever winding, dull and weary! 
 
 From the hills I see thy masses 
 
 Through the Golden Gate in-streaming. 
 Like a shrouded host that passes 
 
 'Mid the brain in restless dreaming. 
 Cresting Tamalpais with hoary 
 
 Piles of fleece in splendor lightened 
 When the gloaming's wizard glory 
 
 All their length with gold has brightened. 
 
 'Mid the canons gliding stilly. 
 
 Through the oaks and laurels slipping 
 Till the verdure of the hilly 
 
 Slopes with cooling mist is dripping — 
 Thus all night the fog is sweeping 
 
 Like a caravan of sorrow. 
 Ghostly and in silence weeping 
 
 O'er the troubles of the morrow. 
 
The Night Fog 
 
 37 
 
 Thus all night its host is winding 
 
 Up the hills and down the canons, 
 Till the morning sun i5 finding 
 
 In the fields its day companions — 
 Birds amid the yellow grasses 
 
 Where the dewdrops bright are glimming, 
 Summer flow'rs and singing lasses: 
 
 Morning's cup with joy is brimming ! 
 
38 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 THE NORTH WIND 
 
 'Tis roar and shriek and whistle and moan 
 When the breath of the North blows over the land, 
 
 And the timbers creak and the big boughs groan 
 And wave as if shaken by Titan hand. 
 
 O'er the fields of grain with its parching breath 
 It blows till the green blades wither and die, 
 
 For it blights the herbage with blast of death 
 As its torrid frenzy goes shrieking by. 
 
 Forth from the desert of burning sand, 
 
 Envious of all that is green and fair, 
 The north wind leaps with his fierce command 
 
 To conquer the hosts of the realm of air. 
 
 The wind king calls to his chariot host 
 
 And the horses are harnessed and lashed along 
 
 South through the valleys beside the Coast 
 Sweeping and shouting their savage song. 
 
 The clouds are scattered, the sky is clear, 
 
 And the great stars sparkle and flash all night 
 
 As the winged steeds in their mad career 
 Storm through the azure with fatal flight. 
 
 O wind king, why do you ravage our fields 
 With three days' revel and three nights' song? 
 
 Because I am fate and the wide earth yields 
 And none may dispute me for none are so strong. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 39 
 
 THE DROUTH 
 
 From Shasta south to El Cajon, 
 From Tahoe to the sea-girt shore, 
 
 No cloud in answer to our moan 
 Bears prophecy of rain once more. 
 
 The north wind blows a bitter drouth, 
 The west wind sweeps across the plain, 
 
 But O the wind of east and south 
 Comes not with cheering sign of rain. 
 
 The herbage starts not on the hills, 
 The cattle starve in pastures sear, 
 
 The fruit trees wilt and babbling rills 
 Lapse off in sand and disappear. 
 
 O clouds of hope, O welcome wind, 
 We pray thee kiss our fainting flowers ; 
 
 To this fair fruitful land be kind 
 And bless us with abundant showers ! 
 
4© Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAIN 
 
 A mist o'er the blue and a south wind blowing, 
 A moist mild air and the cattle lowing, 
 The dull clouds gathering darker and nearer — 
 The rain ! ho, the rain ! could blessing be dearer ? 
 
 The first drops fall upon heaven-turned faces; 
 The spots dint the dust in the parched-up places; 
 Then the clouds yield their bounty in torrents abounding, 
 And the strain of the swift-streaming waters is sounding. 
 
 On the roof is a patter, from eaves is a dripping. 
 And the flowers and the ferns the sweet nectar are 
 
 sipping, 
 As the murmuring strain of the shower is swelling, 
 Good cheer to the sward in the swale sweetly telling. 
 
 The grass wakens green as if startled from slumber; 
 No more shall the dust-cloud the fair land encumber; 
 And the sparrow sings loud from his perch on the 
 
 brier. 
 Sweet-voicing the answer to each heart's desire. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 41 
 
 A VISION OF THE WEST 
 
 Far land, the margent of the mighty West, 
 
 Famed El Dorado, prophesied of yore, 
 A storied wilderness of wild unrest, 
 
 A teeming treasure-house by ocean's shore! 
 
 How often, as a boy, I dreamed of thee 
 With all thy matchless wonders, dim and fair, — 
 
 Thy gate that opens to the Orient sea. 
 Thy gold, thy fruits, thy flowers, thy peerless air, 
 
 Thy zoned snow-peaks gloriously piled. 
 
 Thy yawning gulf, Yosemite, sublime. 
 Circled with domes and crags of splendor wild. 
 
 Thy coned Titans of unmeasured time, " 
 
 Towering imperial past all lofty trees ! 
 
 These dreams were mine, but little did I know 
 How soon in joy I'd greet such scenes as these. 
 
 Destined amid their wilding grace to grow. 
 
 The woods and waters had my teachers been, 
 Telling me tales of wonder and delight: 
 
 The birds that sported 'mid leaf-lattice screen. 
 
 May flow'rs that starred the meads with colors bright. 
 
 Oft had I seen the sun's bright shield of gold 
 Surge from the lake that laves Wisconsin's strand. 
 
 Imaged across the water blue and cold, 
 Whereat joy trembled o'er th' awakening land. 
 
42 A Vision of the West 
 
 When winter's cutting gales swept fierce and free 
 Down th' wide upland plains of piled snow, 
 
 I loved to wade across the windy lea 
 To see the lake far-paved with icen floe, 
 
 Or edge along the frozen river's rim. 
 
 The keen wind whistling thro' the boughs o'erhead, 
 Where scritch-owl nestled on his riven limb 
 
 And rabbit bounded to a snowy bed. 
 
 What memories of lakes, leaf -fringed and green, 
 What summer revelries with birds and flowers 
 
 Haunt me with joy whene'er I peer atween 
 The mist of years that shrouds those happy hours ! 
 
 The sail wide-flung to the exultant breeze, 
 The camp, the paddle's dip, the sport, the song. 
 
 The fire that glowed amidst the night-dark trees, 
 The comradery of youth, the friendship strong! 
 
 And there was love to warm these sylvan days, 
 New dawning with its wonder-working spell, 
 
 Op'ning fair vistas down the darkling ways 
 Where mystery and gentle beauty dwell. 
 
 Then were my eyes to poesy unsealed 
 
 And common things grew strange, in beauty dight; 
 Such was the power a little child could wield 
 
 To glorify youth's darkness with her light. 
 
 But there were many leagues of plain and height 
 And many years of heavy pain for me ; 
 
 Westward the way until upon my sight 
 
 Broke the wide reaches of the western sea! 
 
A Vision of the West 43 
 
 Ah, California, vestured wild and fair, 
 
 When I became a foster-child of thine, 
 Breathing the balm of thy pellucid air, 
 
 Beholding night-starred heaven's bright pageant shine, 
 
 Climbing thy dizzy heights to see the world 
 
 Empurpled far below in misty sweep. 
 And watching waves of ocean grandly hurled 
 
 In crests of triumph from the tossing deep, 
 
 I knew that thou should'st be my rightful nurse, 
 And longed to grow into thy ample grace. 
 
 Would that I might prove worthy to rehearse 
 In loving song the beauty of thy face ! 
 
 In solitude of loveless days I dwelt, 
 Fretted by hours that brought no balm of rest; 
 
 Before the altar Truth alone I knelt, 
 An eremite of science, sore oppressed. 
 
 For in my heart waged conflict day by day; 
 
 Before me loomed the crystal heights of song; 
 I learned that facts, construe them how we may, 
 
 Deign not to reckon beauty, right, or wrong. 
 
 The steeled knife may probe the heart of man, 
 
 But love alone can penetrate his soul ; 
 Then I bethought me how, since time began, 
 
 'Tis love that shapes the world with sweet control. 
 
 Amid thy mountains did the vision grow, 
 I saw it written clear on pine and oak, 
 
 'Twas voiced loud on windy peaks of snow, 
 And on the sea's bare breast its anthem woke. 
 
44 ^ Visiofi of the West 
 
 Then grew the vision to incarnate guise ; 
 
 The shadow form in living truth was dight: 
 I looked in rapture on thy steadfast eyes, 
 
 My love, and saw therein the dawning light! 
 
 Could we but live the life of love we dream. 
 Could we but toil to make it firm and true, 
 
 Could we but live with such ideal supreme, 
 Some little part of love's high task to do ! 
 
 Thus have we striv'n to gain pure beauty's fire. 
 Toiled on, tho' clouds hung heavy round our way 
 
 And little lips have lisped our dear desire, 
 Teaching us how, in loving deeds, to pray. 
 
 Thou art a daughter of the untrammeled West, 
 Dear wife, endowed with largess of its grace. 
 
 But with a calmness in thy tender breast 
 Bespeaking culture of a gentler race. 
 
 In thee my vision finds fulfilment meet, 
 In thy large eyes and crown of golden hair. 
 
 In thy mild ways, thy accents fine and sweet. 
 In thy dear presence, beautiful and fair. 
 
 The sun that swings atop the hills of morn, 
 The crescent dipping toward the sea at night, 
 
 The chanting forests stirred by winds new-born, 
 High peals of music in melodious flight — 
 
 Aye, all fair things that be, when thou art near. 
 Partake of thy loved graciousness serene, 
 
 And in my sight the woes of life appear 
 Robbed by thy smile of all their heavy teen. 
 
A Vision of the West 45 
 
 Enough, my love, of gentle things and mild ! 
 
 There is in this rude land stern work to do,— 
 Harsh, warring creeds that must be reconciled. 
 
 False idols to be felled, and paths to hew 
 
 Up heights of learning — summits bright of song ; 
 
 Men need we, where so many ape the few, 
 To sift the gold of right from sands of wrong. 
 
 To weigh the false in balance with the true ! 
 
 O for the clear courageous voice to tell 
 Those truths which men would fain see put aside ! 
 
 O for a Circe cup wherewith to spell 
 Back to their own true guise the beasts of pride ! 
 
 White ships depart from our hill-circled bay, 
 Forth faring o'er the waste of pathless sea; 
 
 Does love propel them on their weary way, ^ 
 And do they go to make the world more free? 
 
 Ah sophists, for a moment face the fact 
 That freedom must be practiced to be learned ; 
 
 Not as they must but as they will men act 
 When tyranny and serfdom have been spumed. 
 
 The vision I have dreamed through years of pain 
 I cannot barter now for lands and power; 
 
 If love be truth then empire lust is vain. 
 Foredoomed to crumble with the passing hour. 
 
 But there are men in this proud West who hold 
 No servile check to utt' ranee clear and high. 
 
 Let them be strong, O God, and true, and bold 
 For human rights afar to stoutly cr>' ! 
 
46 A Vision of the West 
 
 Perchance it little counts for thee and me 
 What fate befalls ten million alien men — 
 
 The spawn of tropic isles across the sea, 
 That dwelt two years agone beyond our ken, 
 
 But if we play th' oppressor we must pay 
 The tyrant's fee to time. Beware the cost! 
 
 Has not man-traffic brought enough dismay? 
 With what is ganied, O count what will be lost! 
 
 Lost, our prized birthright — love for all things free ; 
 
 Lost, pity for the lowly and oppressed ; 
 Lost, love — what other loss more sad could be, 
 
 A land with love evanished from its breast ! 
 
 But let us not give o'er to boding fears, — 
 The right must triumph and the true prevail ; 
 
 Tho' justice cost a nation blood and tears 
 The love at heart of us shall never fail. 
 
 There is an earnest in this westward slope 
 Of high achievements, glorious enterprise, — 
 
 A mighty stirring of expectant hope: 
 Still on beyond the El Dorado lies ! 
 
 Beauty shall here hold court upon the heights 
 And men shall fashion temples for her shrine, 
 
 With chantings high of praise and starward flights 
 Of silver chords and organ's throb divine. 
 
 The sculptor here shall hew the formless stone 
 To shapes of beauty dreamed on cloud-throned crest ; 
 
 The painter shall reveal what he alone 
 Saw as he brooded on th' earth-mother's breast. 
 
A Vision of the West 47 
 
 The Orient, looming through its mist of time, 
 Shall yield its garner' d treasury of thought 
 
 To stamp its charact'ry of stablished prime 
 On this young West with wealth of promise fraught. 
 
 I thank thee. Fate, that thou hast rolled my star 
 
 To this horizon rife with latent might. 
 That I may share the glories reaching far 
 
 From peaks of snow to sunset's seaward light, 
 
 That I may do my part, though slight it be. 
 To shape the chaos into beauty's mold. 
 
 In nature's sight, which holds us all in fee. 
 To toil for truth's transcendent sands of gold. 
 
48 Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 A VOICE ON THE WIND 
 
 And out of the West came a voice on the wind : — 
 O seek for the truth and behold, ye shall find ! 
 O strive for the right and behold, ye shall do 
 All things that the Master commandeth of you. 
 
 For love is the truth ye have sought for so long. 
 And love is the right that ye strove for through wrong 
 Love ! love spheres our lives with a halo of fire, 
 But God, how 'tis dimmed by each selfish desire! 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 49 
 
 AN IDYL OF THE PINES 
 
 In solitude where all is wild and fair, 
 
 True love grows strong and deep beyond compare ; 
 
 For here the Master of the high serene 
 
 Broods with joy-spirit o'er the leafy green, 
 
 And bends to beauty every leaf and flower 
 
 That smiles in token of his loving power. 
 
 Here wandered you and I, my love, alone, 
 
 Harkening to swaying pine bough's wintry moan. 
 
 From oaks the leaves of gold were blown, 
 
 And sweet as children's songs the tone 
 
 Of silver rills 
 
 Amid the hills. ^ 
 
 The summer birds had flown ; 
 
 But you and I, my love, fled not away, — 
 
 The mountains and the pines breathed, "Stay, O stay! 
 
 Stay where the squirrel frisks in autumn glee, 
 
 Where deer, lithe-limbed, in woodsy haunts are free. 
 
 Where freshening showers fall to start the green. 
 
 Where beauty fondly reigns in far demense." 
 
 We heard the voice of peak and pine, 
 We saw glad autumn's gold sunshine; 
 We staid to tell, in close entwine. 
 The secrets God and lovers only know, 
 By wind in pines reverberated low. 
 
 What songs of gladness thronged October's breeze, 
 Stealing at ween the trellis green of trees. 
 Mingling in one vast symphony of praise 
 
50 An Idyl of the Puies 
 
 For Him whose largess wrought these golden days! 
 
 The mountain quail loud voiced his whistling note, 
 
 The little sparrow shook his streaked throat, 
 
 The lengthened cadence of the flicker's call 
 
 Fell, joyous, down the mighty forest hall, 
 
 While on the ground the crisp leaves lightly stirred 
 
 'Neath rabbit's bound or dainty trip of bird. 
 
 And, dost remember love, the wavering lines 
 
 Of forest-serried ridges, dark and still, 
 
 The mountain slopes, deep furrowed, robed in pines, 
 
 The yellow-barked madrono by the rill? 
 
 The poison-oak glowed all aflame 
 
 With crimson leaves the day we came ; 
 
 The wild grapes trailed their lace of gold, 
 
 And black oaks in their arms did hold 
 
 The glory of the autumn high 
 
 Toward clouds of white that, 'gainst the sky, 
 
 In fleecy masses floated by. 
 
 Why was the sky so deep and blue. 
 
 And why the day so fair? 
 Was earth not decked, my love, for you? 
 
 The mountains little care 
 Whether we glory in their might 
 
 Or sleep beneath their sod, 
 But beauty is our own birthright — 
 
 Our heritage from God. 
 
 The plump grapes hung in clusters on the vine 
 Beside our cottage door, the bright sunshine 
 Purpling the branches as it streamed between 
 The lattice where they grew, a royal screen 
 
An Idyl of the Pines 51 
 
 That scarce obscured the lovely world without, 
 Decked for the pageant of the autumn's rout. 
 
 Then, on a day, 
 
 The blustering wind twitched ofif the mantle gay — 
 
 Stripping the spent leaves from their boughs, 
 
 Breathing innumerable tearful vows 
 
 Of winter, cold and gray. 
 
 The sapling oaks stood *gainst a leaden sky. 
 
 Their taper branchlets stiffly turned on high. 
 
 Purple and shivering in the frosty air, 
 
 While gnarled patriarchs with hoar trunks stood bare, 
 
 Their black limbs writhed and lifted in despair 
 
 Like olden druids in beseeching pose 
 
 Telling of earth's immeasurable woes. 
 
 The rain fell, following fast upon the wind, " 
 Swelling the streams that answered loud its voice. 
 With ceaseless muffled roar all night the blind 
 Wild surge of foaming water sang, Rejoice! 
 The salmon hied them from the ocean's deep, 
 Battling against the torrent's seaward leap 
 To spawn amid the mountain pools in peace ; 
 And, ere the sun had marked the rain's surcease, 
 The birds came flocking from the mountain crest, — 
 The blithe plump robin with its earth-red breast, 
 The kinglet green, bedecked in crimson crown, 
 The winter wren, a merry monk in brown. 
 The snowbird gay, the sportive chickadee, 
 All joined the festive winter revelry. 
 Flitting from tree to tree 
 And shaking off the beaded ciystals bright 
 Like diamonds on the needles of the pine 
 
52 An Idyl of the Pines 
 
 Left by the rain and burnished by the bright 
 Clear joyance of the sun's quick flash divine. 
 
 Dark loom the mountains through the cloud, 
 Their peaks still cumbered with the shroud 
 Of sullen mist about them spread ; 
 The drifted snow through canons down is led 
 In scraggling hoary beards on pine-clad breasts. 
 What witchery the mountain's shrine invests 
 When the great bulwarks of the sky are rent 
 By golden shafts of sun in triumph hurled, 
 And tokens of the heaven's all-reaching tent 
 Show, still immutable, above the world ! 
 
 O was it not a joy, my love, to be 
 
 Thus face to face with earth's divinity ! — 
 
 To see the splendor growing hour by hour. 
 
 To watch the changes by mysterious power 
 
 Wrought in the rolling clouds and mighty hills. 
 
 Flashing down valleys with such quickening thrills 
 
 Of light and mist, bewildering in their stream. 
 
 As would the very rocks from death redeem, 
 
 Mossing them deep in lush green fronds with fair 
 
 Fine filaments of fern — the maiden-hair. 
 
 The gold-back and the brake ! 
 
 Out of the stone they wake 
 
 At the bidding of the rain, rain, rain; 
 
 All the bounty of their beauty spread in vain. 
 
 Save for you and me to love them. 
 
 Save that God within them and above them 
 
 Even slighter things than these to love would deign. 
 
 And O, beloved, dost thou not recall 
 
 The solemn splendor of the night's slow fall — 
 
An Idyl of the Pines 53 
 
 The fairy pinnacles of pines afar 
 
 In jetty spires upon the darkling hill, 
 
 The waxing brilliance of the even star, 
 
 The saffron west with crimson clouds athrill — 
 
 The sedgy pools that 'mid the shadows shone. 
 
 Haunted by blackbirds in melodious throng, 
 
 Clamoring and calling, while we two, alone. 
 
 Listed to them and heard the night wind's song 
 
 Come swelling, solemn, through the pine woods vast? 
 
 The night was silent when the choir swept past. 
 
 Then, in the gloam, we sought the meadow's marge. 
 
 The dark trees looming round us dim and large. 
 
 And, as we peered amidst their umbery shade. 
 
 We saw proud antlered deer walk down the glade, 
 
 Ready at sign of menace swift to leap 
 
 Far into cover of the forest deep. 
 
 The little owl his flute-notes trembled low. 
 
 The stars shone dimly through the west's pale glow; 
 
 We walked as in a trance and looked above 
 
 At heaven's o'erarching sphere of boundless love. 
 
 Again the change, again the rain. 
 
 The drip of eaves, the sleet on pane, 
 
 The sweep of winds that wail and blow. 
 
 The rattling hail, the soundless snow, — 
 
 The air one riot of wild, whirling flakes! 
 
 The crested jay his feathers vainly shakes, 
 
 As 'mid the pines he lurks, disconsolate. 
 
 Crouching to 'scape the storm that blusters round; 
 
 The squirrels, snug in hollows, drowse and wait — 
 
 The still earth echoes to no living sound. 
 
 Out of the leaden, close-investing clouds 
 
 The white flakes tumble in tumultuous crowds. 
 
54 A7i Idyl of the Pines 
 
 Until the earth, in ermine muffled deep, 
 Settles, content, into a soundless sleep. 
 
 It seems but yestereve, dear love, when all 
 
 The earth lay tranced *neath silent, snow-spread pall, 
 
 While you and I, close-bosomed, heart to heart, 
 
 Looked on the waste, in solitude apart 
 
 From turmoil and the vexing toil of life. 
 
 For one brief span were lonely fancies rife, 
 
 Till, from the hearts of mighty poets dead. 
 
 We peopled the wide solitude with shades 
 
 And spirits fair whose shining pathway led 
 
 With hymeneal paeans to the glades 
 
 Of Tempe or the dread Olympian heights. 
 
 Or to the heavens whence chaunts of angels fell. 
 
 While starry torches beamed their twinkling lights 
 
 And wrought on mortals their mysterious spell. 
 
 Sing with me, love, in the fire light, 
 
 Sing with me, love, and be gay ! 
 
 Storms blow around us, 
 
 Pine trees are sighing. 
 
 White flakes are flying. 
 
 Winter has found us — 
 
 But can we not sing of the May, 
 
 My love, as we sit in the fire light? 
 
 The morning dawned with wonder-work to show ! — 
 The hills and forests wide bespread with snow — 
 A wilderness of white o'erhung with gray 
 And rifts of blue above the mountain's brow ; 
 The tranquil hush slow ushered in a day 
 Made sacred by the winter's snow-sealed vow. 
 
An Idyl of the Pines 55 
 
 The oak's black tracery showed blacker still 
 Against the white that margined twig and spray. 
 The dark firs loomed anear the ice-bridged rill 
 With snow enwreathed in glorious array; 
 The long pine needles, pressed beneath the weight 
 Of piled snow, were pointing toward the ground. 
 A lone woodpecker shrilled to absent mate, 
 A rabbit 'scaped the open, bound on bound. 
 
 It was a spectacle of beauty rare. 
 This miracle of snow so fair. 
 Piled over mountain, vale and tree. 
 For nothing in the wide, wide world 
 More stainless or more pure could be. 
 Methought it did but image thee. 
 My love, so full of maiden mystery. 
 So calm, so fair, so free ! 
 
 Bleak winter's day is spent; with thrill of life 
 
 The spring is near! 
 
 With flowers dear 
 
 The woodland wastes give praise, and there is rife 
 
 A spirit of keen rapture, a wild bliss, 
 
 A nameless something which we cannot miss 
 
 And still grow spirit-wise, — a soul aglow 
 
 With the fine gold of buttercup, a sudden flow 
 
 Of heart-blood to the temples ; for behold 
 
 The nodding pepper-grass unfolds its petals white, 
 
 So daintily upreaching from the mold. 
 
 And in the woods there is a royal sight 
 
 Where shooting stars, in purple dight, 
 
 With black beaks, yellow-rimmed, are swayed 
 
 By each soft breeze that haunts the glade. 
 
56 An Idyl of the Pines 
 
 All spirits, life-endued, now greet the sun; — 
 The Ethiop spiders in the roadway run. 
 The spermophiles beside their burrows call, 
 And, silent, wavering in its rise and fall, 
 A veined Vanessa flutters through the dell, 
 Trembles in fragile beauty on a bell, 
 And, honey-surfeited, light fiits away. 
 Bird strains uprise to glad the balmy day, 
 The praiseful choir ascending pure and high. 
 The wine of life has fallen from the sky 
 To quicken every clod so cold and dumb ! 
 
 Methought the resurrection day had come, 
 
 For joyous spirits rose on every side 
 
 And smiled at you, my own beloved bride. 
 
 Then, at full tide of happy spring, it fell 
 
 That we should leave these tender spirits known 
 
 And loved so keenly — leave the ferny dell. 
 
 The hymning forest, the cool, joyous tone 
 
 Of brook-plash — leave the flowers and birds, the sense 
 
 Of nearness to the power that carved the hills, 
 
 The wild awakening of spring, intense 
 
 In rush of joy across the land that thrills 
 
 Each teeming clod upon the fruitful earth. 
 
 Yea, in our hearts felt we a second birth, 
 
 An advent of unwonted spirit power 
 
 To be close cherished from that vernal hour. 
 
 We left the pines and years have swept us on 
 
 Some measure of our way, but there has gone 
 
 Aye with us an ineffable serene 
 
 Content that cometh from the mountains green, 
 
 A nearer vision, and a clearer light 
 
 That quenchless beams amid the darkest night. 
 
WOODLAND TALES HESPERIAN 
 
 WHEREIN ARE NARRATED NATURE MYTHS 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 59 
 
 INDUCTION 
 
 When Greekish groves by Nereids were trod 
 
 And seas were populous with Tritons fair, 
 
 When through high heav'n the splendid god of light 
 
 Urged his flame chariot from dawn to dark, 
 
 And from Olympus thunder'd Zeus the law. 
 
 In haunts remote another race divine 
 
 For beauty strove amid green lawns and bow'rs, 
 
 Making the mountains vocal with their songs. 
 
 Here dreamed the fair Hesperides, I ween, 
 
 In gardens of the west all girt about 
 
 With solemn sea and waste of pathless sand 
 
 Enchanted vales, unfooted save by gods, 
 
 Report whereof scarce touched sage Homer's ear. 
 
 So shrouded in seclusion were their halls, 
 
 So distant from Troy's battlements their heights. 
 
 Proud mountains towered about the blissful plains, 
 
 Their pinnacles high thrust amid the blue. 
 
 And California was yclept this fair 
 
 God-haunted region by the foaming sea. 
 
 Had I the magic of forgotten song 
 
 'Twould be a joy to conjure into thought 
 
 Full blown, the wonder of that peerless time, 
 
 To make old gods live brightly on my page, 
 
 Warring and wooing as in olden day, 
 
 Beauteous and brave and full of mighty strife ; 
 
 But, like a minstrel wandered farfrom home 
 
 Who sees men knit their brows against his song, 
 
 I falter, fearing lest my tale shall fall 
 
 On alien ears and skeptic brains to-day. 
 
6o 
 
 Induction 
 
 Howbeit, some fragments must I strive to sing 
 Of that forgotten life, that golden time 
 Beyond the ken of mortals, vanished quite, 
 Like brooding dream which mem'ry dim recalls. 
 For scarce a name is left to haunt the heights 
 Whereon they strove so zealously for grace, 
 And scarce a flow' ret lifts its modest head 
 Those lovers' beauty to immortalize; 
 But Shasta lives, a glorious, crowned cone, 
 And still Sequoias tow'r in woodland glades; 
 The goddess fair, Godetia, smiles, a fiow'r, 
 And Colias, golden-winged, about her flits. 
 Even as in that blest age he longed to be 
 Circling about her modest loveliness. 
 Of these and kindred shall I forth recount 
 Such high emprise as misty legends tell. 
 Echoing their travails in my wild wood tales. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 6i 
 
 HOW SHASTA WON THE FIRE 
 
 Being a myth of the lava-flows of early times 
 
 A gnomish race toiled deep in earth recess, 
 
 A host misshaped and black, of wild demean, 
 
 In stony caverns fettered and debased, 
 
 The slaves of Mica, lord of nether world. 
 
 For him they delved and strove with forged bars, 
 
 They made fair crystals bloom in tombs of death, 
 
 Conjuring strange beauty of amorphous stone, — 
 
 The vermile cinnabar, the turquoise blue, 
 
 The tinted quartz with ruddy gold entwined. 
 
 With fire they wrought their subtle alchemy 
 
 Whereby earth chambers were so wond'rous deck'd, 
 
 And 'mid their haunts below they pent their -flame, 
 
 Lest they be reft of this their talisman. 
 
 It happed that Mica strove with lords of day 
 
 In deadly feud, and wrought them havoc sore, 
 
 Whelming their plains with cinders blown abroad 
 
 Or spreading molten rock on their demesne. 
 
 Shaking the earth with mad convulsive throes. 
 
 And opening pits hell-deep, that fearful yawned. 
 
 The gods of day by no device could smite 
 
 Fell Mica with his flame-entrenched throng 
 
 And knew not how a host so armed to quell. 
 
 In solemn state convened they sought device 
 
 Whereby to stay great Mica's mailed hand 
 
 And save from ravage all their royal vales. 
 
 In that bright group stood Calochortus fair, 
 
 Prince of celestial powers in Hesperus, 
 
62 How Shasta Woji the Fire 
 
 Clad all in golden vesture purple pied, 
 
 And haughty Aster in his raiment bright, 
 
 And fair Sturnellus with his silver flute. 
 
 The sad Lycentra statue-like was poised 
 
 In folded marble robe, as if she knew 
 
 What fate was darkly brooding for her woe, 
 
 And eke Vanessa swayed on trembling wing, 
 
 A fairy goddess of the woodsy flow'rs. 
 
 They met in that mad vale Yosemite, 
 
 High-domed about with purple peaks of snow, 
 
 With crags where thunder-clouds austerely rest. 
 
 With falls far leaping in a trembling mist 
 
 From skyward peaks, all wreathed in rainbow spans. 
 
 With vernal slopes upreaching toward the blue, 
 
 And swardy floor with patens bright of flow'rs. 
 
 There sage Atharpos, councillor of gods. 
 
 Uplifted thus his voice to heedful ears: 
 
 "Mistake not thy vain prowess, peers, I pray! 
 
 In vain we cope with foe in armor dight 
 
 Of fire, whose lance is flame, whose voice is death. 
 
 'Tis not misprision of high duty, no. 
 
 Nor frailty nor fear that thwarts our might. 
 
 But only fire, and this alone our bane. 
 
 Could some one penetrate his sombrous port 
 
 From thence to bear a brand of quickening flame. 
 
 Well might we hope for vantage in the strife." 
 
 He ceased, and loud approval stirred the host 
 
 While many a god would fain be first to seek 
 
 In deadly hazard the forbidden fire. 
 
 To Shasta fell the high-renowned trust 
 
 Of delving lone to Mica's molten halls 
 
 And well the peril did become his zeal. 
 
How Shasta Won the Fire 63 
 
 He was a god serene of countenance, 
 
 Of lofty stature and majestic mien. 
 
 Mantled in white he stood, with rim of gold 
 
 Tracing fair flowers about his gracious form. 
 
 Forth strode he to the north where grew a peak 
 
 Aloft toward cloudland, swelling from the plain, 
 
 Its crest all hoar with century-garnered snow. 
 
 Whence issued ominous jets of sulph'rous smoke. 
 
 And fearful flames in lurid tongues flashed out 
 
 From Mica's dark dominions deep within. 
 
 He, nothing loth, swept up from height to height, 
 
 Past meadows of fair flowers, through gloomed wood, 
 
 O'er waste of rock, up height on height of snow. 
 
 Till, from the crowning pinnacle he viewed 
 
 The fair earth swooning dizzily below, 
 
 With purple mist-hung valleys wide and wild, 
 
 With serried ridges 'mid the clouds afloat, -^ 
 
 Peaks half revealed and pinnacles of fire 
 
 Where flashed the sun on sparkling wastes of snow. 
 
 At foot of him gaped wide the dark abyss 
 
 Down into Mica's halls, whence belched sounds 
 
 Of conflict and of toil, the hiss of steam, 
 
 The stithy's mighty roar, and voices weird 
 
 In babel of unearthly broil below. 
 
 He paused at that dark threshold, then, unfeared 
 
 Down plunged in the gaping gulf of flame 
 
 To meet what fate might wait him at hell's throne. 
 
 As deep he spun down darksome pit of death 
 
 The air pulsed fast with thunder-throbs and gleams 
 
 Of fearful light came flashing on his brain; 
 
 Fierce smote they him and fiercer, till he swooned, 
 
 So wild the tumult round about him grew. 
 
64 How Shasta Won the Fire 
 
 Then, roused, he heard a gradual, far-off stir 
 
 Such as the tremulous wind in hush of night 
 
 'Mid forest branches makes, or waves that moan 
 
 With many- voiced lips on pebbled strand. 
 
 It was the murmur of the minion host 
 
 Paying their orisons at Mica's throne. 
 
 Upstarting he beheld a pageant weird 
 
 Of flame-wrought pillars marshaled without end 
 
 Down fearful lanes of fire where in and out 
 
 Moved Mica's serfs to do his awful will. 
 
 Naked they were, grim ^thiops, tricked in chains 
 
 Of massy gold about their lusty waists. 
 
 And jewels glistered bright around their necks 
 
 Or gleamed on pendants wrought with cunning skill. 
 
 As swift they glided through the glowing aisles 
 
 They chanted incoherent strains of praise. 
 
 Mumbling in muffled tones their mad acclaim. 
 
 At head of all, throned Mica swayed the court, 
 
 Circled with such candescent burst of light 
 
 As dimmed all lesser flame ; and at his nod 
 
 Wound in and out the slaves in tide of toil. 
 
 Two basilisks crouched, horrid, at his feet, 
 
 Their tails a-quiver and their eyes a-fire, 
 
 Ready to dartle death at sign or word. 
 
 Such spectacle of awe met Shasta's sight 
 
 As stately moved he on to Mica's throne. 
 
 When the stern king of fire beheld his foe 
 
 Advance thus singly down the halls of death 
 
 With countenance serene and footing sure 
 
 He eyed him in amaze, then, fearful, spake: 
 
 "Proud prince of summer sun and woodland flowers, 
 
 Impotent lord of light in realms of air, 
 
How Shasta Won the Fire 65 
 
 What mad emprise has bent thy steps to me, 
 
 What insolence is this, to penetrate 
 
 These halls of flame unbidden to my throne?" 
 
 Then Shasta spake, with mien majestical 
 
 And accents calm: "I come to thy wild court 
 
 To challenge thee, renowned prince of flame. 
 
 Thou knowest 'tis not thy sturdy heart and hand 
 
 That renders thee invincible in strife ; 
 
 For in these chambers mewed thou hidest low 
 
 To marshal thy tumultuous host of fire, 
 
 Which in fierce rabble whelms our fields in woe 
 
 And ravages our vales." Then dark the brow 
 
 Of Mica grew and fierce his basilisks 
 
 Heaved their scaled sides and shook their warning 
 
 tails, 
 Whilest minions pressed about th' aroused throne. 
 "Have care, O Shasta, how thou speakest here. 
 We brook no flouting speech in halls of hell." 
 "We ask but justice, mighty king of death, 
 And as thou art a god thou can'st not spurn 
 Our plea. We crave a brand of living fire 
 That we may fight thee in more equal strife; 
 Then shalt thou be accounted worthy foe." 
 "Vain suppliant," answered Mica, wrath and scorn 
 Contending in his subtle countenance, 
 "Thou shalt have flame enough, we promise thee. 
 To thy compeers ascend with gift from us 
 Of swinging censer of unquenched fire. 
 And use it as thou mayest for weal or woe." 
 So saying he clapt his hands with such uproar 
 As thunder-peal across a boisterous sea. 
 The pillared hall grew dim, and all the scene 
 
66 How Shasta Won the Fire 
 
 Shuddered to nothingness in Shasta's sight. 
 
 Again he stood upon the heights of snow 
 
 With earth far flung in darkness at his feet 
 
 And overhead the mighty shield of night 
 
 Studded with myriad stars that splendid shone. 
 
 Within his hand he held a censer rare 
 
 En wrought of gold and bossed with ornaments, 
 
 Whence glimmed bright coals of fire that smoked and 
 
 flamed 
 Alternate with the wind that breathed and died. 
 "Eureka!" sang the god, as down he sped 
 O'er dizzy crags and fissures deeply cleft 
 'Twixt him and meadows slumbering at his feet. 
 Such speed he made that ere dawn flushed the sky 
 He had retraced the weary leagues of way 
 Which intervened ere he might make proclaim 
 To his leagued host of how his quest had fared 
 At court of that remorseless king of fire. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 6^ 
 
 COLIAS AND GODETIA 
 
 Being a myth of a golden butterfly and a summer flower 
 
 A thrill of triumph stirred the vales of fear, 
 
 When fires were flashed from peak to answ'ring peak, 
 
 Charged with high hopes of victory in strife 
 
 With mid-earth despot. Round each blazing pyre 
 
 A chanting multitude of gods convened 
 
 Like worshippers of flame about their shrine. 
 
 While these enthused bands were fondly spelled 
 
 In rapture round their fiery altars bright. 
 
 Their new-found fetish wrought them havoc sore ; 
 
 For when most brightly lapped the tongues of flame 
 
 Young Colias, Shasta's own beloved seed. 
 
 Exulting, leaped upon the cruel flame 
 
 Ere hand could stay his frenzy. Forth he rolled 
 
 A ruin of his lovely childish grace. 
 
 Deformed and scarred into a monstrous guise. 
 
 In vain was grief, in vain fond loving words ; 
 
 He lived, but with the, semblance of a brute. 
 
 And one most fair 'sumed aspect most debased. 
 
 No heart had the immortals then to range 
 
 Their leaguers for the fight with such a fell 
 
 And fiendish implement as this of fire. 
 
 So none gainsaid King Mica's vandal might 
 
 Or dared to trespass more on Tophet's deep. 
 
 Young Colias grew to godhood, scarred and shunned, 
 
 For the immortals feared unloveliness 
 
 E'en as the flowers that shrink from frosty air. 
 
 Still did the fire him hold in utter thrall 
 
 Until in turn he ruled where late he slaved. 
 
68 Colias and Godetia 
 
 He washed the sands for gold and with his flame 
 
 Fashioned the grains to shapes of curved grace; 
 
 Hot metal did he beat to beauty rare, 
 
 Tracing the forms of flow'rs on chalice bright 
 
 Or bossing plates with leafy ornament. 
 
 Such, then, his task, and with his toil he grew 
 
 Gentle and loving in his loneliness, 
 
 Gracious to all that lived and craved his care. 
 
 The lame coyote, fearless, round him limped, 
 
 The slender doe led up her dappled fawn 
 
 For his caress, the mother thrush, her young. 
 
 Frail flowers he tended when the wanton tread 
 
 Of some wood-rover had their beauty spoiled. 
 
 But higher yearned his heart than beast or flow'r; 
 
 Thus sundered from his kind he needs must feel 
 
 Love-stifled and forlorn. Could he but know 
 
 The rapture of an answered sympathy. 
 
 The thrill of god-communion, heart to heart ! 
 
 But when he reached his hand, beseeching, forth 
 
 To some fair nymph amidst the leafy grove 
 
 She shrank away as in a deadly fear 
 
 And left him lingering there, despised and lorn. 
 
 It seemed of all the world that he alone 
 
 Was loveless, he who knew so well how dear 
 
 A boon was love to tender soul of youth. 
 
 Amid a fertile vale anear the sea 
 
 There did abide a nymph, surpassing fair. 
 
 Who tenderly o'erwatched the woodland flow'rs. 
 
 Moisting the earth about their dainty stems 
 
 And op'ning tardy petals for the bee. 
 
 Or spreading leafy tents against the sun 
 
 When with too fierce a heat he smote the groves. 
 
Colias mid Godetia 69 
 
 She was a paragon of beauty bright, 
 
 Gold -tressed and rosy tinted, with an eye 
 
 Made blue by looking fixedly at heav'n. 
 
 And with a slender grace beyond compare. 
 
 Full many a suitor had besought her love 
 
 And many a proud heart had she humbled sore, 
 
 For vainly had they pled, though bright their name 
 
 And lofty their degree. It chanced that one 
 
 Adorer proffered her in pledge of love 
 
 A golden cup by Colias richly wrought, 
 
 Patterned with tender tracery of flowers ; 
 
 Whereat she cried, "Could I but see the god 
 
 Who fashioned such rare lovliness, meseems 
 
 To him I'd give what others seek in vain." 
 
 Then proud her suitor laughed a scornful laugh, 
 
 "Despised of all the heavenly host he dwells," 
 
 Cried he, "a god deformed, abhorred and s'purned." 
 
 "Hath he done aught in malice or in shame?" 
 
 Then 'quired Godetia fair. " 'Tis not his deeds 
 
 That shame the god, fair nymph," he uttered sooth, 
 
 "For he is gentle past all reckoning, 
 
 But verily misfortune so hath chanced 
 
 That in his visage strange beyond belief 
 
 Is he misfeatured." 
 
 "Would that I might know," 
 She made return, "a being so deformed 
 But with an inner beauty so complete!" 
 Then Aster, her proud suitor, thought to bend 
 To his preferment her capricious whim 
 And vowed he'd bring sad Colias to her bow'r, 
 That she might gaze upon his ruined face ; 
 With this resolve forthwith to execute 
 
JO Colzas and Godetia 
 
 He fleeted down the vale far past her ken. 
 
 When on the morrow with his consort strange 
 
 Came Aster to Godetia, she was deep 
 
 In toil amidst her blooms and saw them not 
 
 Until they stood expectant at her side — 
 
 Proud Aster with the shy, ill-formed one, 
 
 Unhappy Colias, to receive her scorn. 
 
 All flushed with lightsome toil she rose, a bright 
 
 Enthralling child in an enchanted grove, 
 
 A rosy goddess, radiant as the spring. 
 
 She welcomed them with words of soft acclaim 
 
 And smiled on that seared face of passion, turned 
 
 In piteous appeal to her clear eye. 
 
 Then all the pent love of past hopeless years 
 
 Surged madly through the heart of Colias, 
 
 And with due adoration kneeling low 
 
 He paid fond rev'rence to Godetia's grace. 
 
 But Aster looked disdainful on the twain 
 
 For he had summoned Colias there to meet 
 
 Averted eyes and scant civility, 
 
 Trusting to thus augment his own high grace 
 
 In sight of her he coveted for bride. 
 
 With brief adieu he rustled down the vale 
 
 Renouncing one who so complacently 
 
 Her favors spent on all who sought her bow'r. 
 
 When he had ta'en his way the nymph 'gan speak 
 
 To Colias of his craft and graciously 
 
 Did she extol the wonder of his skill. 
 
 The art wherewith he twined her dearest flowers 
 
 In ornament on stubborn metal wrought. 
 
 They talked of beauteous things for many an hour, 
 
 And when, reluctant, he departed slow, 
 
Colias and Godetia 71 
 
 'Twas with assurance of renewed delight. 
 
 Thenceforth he oft in secret sought her dell, 
 
 Trusting no more the garish light of day, 
 
 But stealing, tiptoe down the lanes of eve 
 
 To whisper secrets 'neath the tranced stars. 
 
 Emboldened then, he, trembling, did aver 
 
 That could he taste one rapturous kiss of love 
 
 He should be straight transfigured from his guise 
 
 Of brute deformity to godly mien. 
 
 She forthwith wound her arms about his neck 
 
 Like some fond seraph who would glorify 
 
 All things corruptible to godliness. 
 
 And left imprint of love on his wan lips. 
 
 Thus postured she did feel him swoon away, 
 
 A shadow or a dream that haunts the night, 
 
 A phantasy, a wraith receding dim 
 
 To nothingness upon the silent air. 
 
 "Colias!" she called, but heard no answ'ring voice 
 
 Save that the hills beat back her silver cr>'. 
 
 Then all night long she fled from height to height, 
 
 Voicing her frenzy till the gods gave ear 
 
 And pitied her but could not cure her bane. 
 
 Fear haunted, on she sped and ever cried 
 
 For Colias, but in vain. The starry night 
 
 Had snatched him to its void, the azure deep 
 
 Had buried him in its unfathomed realm. 
 
 One eve, as from a peak she sadly viewed 
 
 The sun down rolling toward th' ensanguined sea, 
 
 A figure all of gold came winging bright 
 
 Out of the empyrean, swift and true, 
 
 Shaping its course for her high pinnacle. 
 
72 
 
 Colias and Godetia 
 
 Down sloped the splendid form on pens of gold, 
 
 Checking his flight as near her post he came, 
 
 A cherub clothed in glorious majesty. 
 
 At side of her he stood with flashing eye 
 
 And proud arched lip that quivered as he said : 
 
 "Thou knowest me not, Godetia!" when a cry 
 
 Burst from her throat: "My Colias, thou hast come!" 
 
 Then tenderly upgathered he his love 
 
 And spread his pinions to the radiant sky, 
 
 Forth launching toward the sun that splendid rolled 
 
 Its flaming car beneath th' exultant wave. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 73 
 
 THE DESCENT OF BOREAS 
 
 Wherein is narrated the contest of the host of spring with the ice 
 of the glacial age 
 
 When the bright host of gods Hesperian 
 
 Despaired of coping with great Mica's storm, 
 
 Nor longer hoped with might of flame to wring 
 
 Submission from their arch antagonist, 
 
 They counseled long for other means to quell 
 
 The quenchless tumult in their golden realm. 
 
 In solemn conference Atharpos spake 
 
 Of new devices to o'ercome their foe. 
 
 He, hoary bearded and sage countenanced. 
 
 Was doomed to speak persuasive words of woe ; 
 
 For specious were his arguments and shrewd, 
 
 Though false as serpent's tongue his winning;' tale, 
 
 Fraught with dire consequence all unforeseen. 
 
 ''There is a god above all others strong," 
 
 He said, "who rules in frigid realms afar. 
 
 He is hight Boreas and his scepter sways 
 
 Remorseless over land and sea and air. 
 
 Icy his countenance and hoar as death! 
 
 His mantle sweeps in folds of driven snow. 
 
 His hoarse voice mingles with the fearful blast 
 
 That blusters big with storm on peaks afar; 
 
 In his fell train a million vassals ride 
 
 With keen cold spears of death to hurl with wrath 
 
 From heights aerial on shrinking foe. 
 
 Could we but gain his grace, our cause t' espouse 
 
 And bid him speed to our dominions fair. 
 
 Soon would he pen proud Mica in his tomb." 
 
74 The Descejit of Boreas 
 
 Thus spake Atharpos, and the host approved, 
 
 So bUnded in their zeal that none foresaw 
 
 What dread results would follow his advent. 
 
 For messenger young Trochilus the Red 
 
 They chose to seek out Boreas in his lair. 
 
 And fit their choice, for none more fleet than he 
 
 To overpass the trackless wilderness ! 
 
 He was a pygmy god, but fair to see 
 
 In ruddy vestments with a bronzed casque 
 
 And gorget shining like a mimic sun. 
 
 Alert and swift he speeded o'er the waste. 
 
 Undaunted by the van that menaced him 
 
 Of pallid snow-wraiths, chanting dirges wild 
 
 About the haunts austere of Boreas. 
 
 On, on he pressed, till at the gate he stood 
 
 Of that hoar polar palace cold and grim ; 
 
 Within the walls wild voices raved and roared. 
 
 The pari of blust'ring ice-gods turbulent, 
 
 And stinging spears were hurled by hands unseen. 
 
 And half-discovered forms went shudd'ring past. 
 
 Nathless the messenger of gods advanced 
 
 Answering the challenge at the icy gates 
 
 And pressing to the presence of the king. 
 
 A fearful master was the lord of snow. 
 
 Of massive bulk and visage stern as death. 
 
 All white and terrible, with eyes that shone 
 
 As cold as stars above the wintry drifts. 
 
 His voice made quake the glistering peaks with fear, 
 
 Stifling all lesser tumult with its din 
 
 As down the buttressed walls of ice it rolled. 
 
 When Trochilus had made his eager plea, 
 
 Dilating on the lovely vales despoiled. 
 
The Descent of Boreas 75 
 
 The great god tossed his mighty head and roared : 
 
 "Tell all thy impotent god host afar 
 
 For Boreas to make way. We shall explore 
 
 These gardens of rare wonder and shall ride 
 
 Caparisoned for war; and we shall build 
 
 Vast tombs of ice to sepulcher thy foe. 
 
 The rills shall stiffen and the rivers freeze, 
 
 The earth be overlaid with robe of death, 
 
 The air be choked with winged barbs of snow. 
 
 Mica shall tremble in his mid-earth keep : 
 
 But let all things that haunt the land beware, 
 
 For they must perish or swift haste away." 
 
 Then Trochilus, who erst had fearless been 
 
 Grew all aquiver with unwelcome fright 
 
 And swift forth dartled southward to apprise 
 
 His bright companions of impending doom 
 
 More fearful than the wrack by Mica wrought. 
 
 Ah ! there was consternation when he came 
 
 With missive ominous ; the Naiades 
 
 Wept in their groves and solemn gods were bowed 
 
 With voiceless weight of grief, for well they knew 
 
 'Twere vain to strive 'gainst foe invincible. 
 
 With heavy teen they bade their loved bow'rs 
 
 A fond farewell and gathered on the heights 
 
 In vain persuasion of unfounded fears. 
 
 Upon the north peaks loomed a heavy cloud, 
 
 Slow mantling the horizon with its mist. 
 
 Chill grew the air and far-off strains were heard 
 
 Of wild wind voices in inchoate calls 
 
 As of an army waging strife afar. 
 
 Then came the crash of mighty beasts in fear 
 
 Swinging their pond'rous limbs down mountain vales. 
 
76 The Descerit of Boreas 
 
 The shagged mastodons with tusks outcurved 
 
 Tramped with a thund'rous tread, their trunks in air, 
 
 Bellowing as on they swept to 'scape the storm. 
 
 Ten thousand panting birds, swift-winged, flashed by, 
 
 Fleeting in panic south before the foe. 
 
 The cloud advanced and maiden forms were seen 
 
 Of snow-wraiths chanting runic strains of death, 
 
 A multitude of spectres strange and wild. 
 
 Then followed forms of spearmen girt in mail 
 
 Of sheened silver, with bright, leveled spears 
 
 That glistened from a dreary leaden pall. 
 
 Far as sight followed stretched the multitude. 
 
 Melting in distance to a pallid cloud 
 
 With Boreas in their midst by winged steeds 
 
 As white as snow swept on in icy car. 
 
 While fearful gazed the sad-eyed company 
 
 Of gentle gods, they saw in this mad rout 
 
 The spoilers of their dwelling-place endeared. 
 
 And swift as foam on-driven before the storm 
 
 They sped afar to tropic vales untrod. 
 
 Only Lycentra with her children twain 
 
 Joined not the fugitives, for her dear charge 
 
 Encumbered her so sore that in despair 
 
 She turned and fronted the on-surging line, 
 
 Holding in piteous appeal her babes 
 
 In fondly clinging arms. As well might stand 
 
 A wounded tern upon the ocean beach 
 
 And cry against the tidal wave's advance. 
 
 Or dainty flow'r upon the summer hill 
 
 Plead with the flames that charge in columns bright. 
 
 The snow-wraiths wailed a dirge, the host advanced 
 
 With such a diapason of deep woe 
 
The Descent of Boreas yy 
 
 That all her cries were lost in the vast roar, 
 
 And with her darlings down she sank in death. 
 
 Swift rode the van of ice-gods turbulent, 
 
 But slow as doom the frigid rear advanced. 
 
 Crashing the forests in its awful path. 
 
 And sealing as in tombs etern the earth. 
 
 Till not a pulse stirred in the vale of doom. 
 
 It were a tale of passing length to tell 
 
 How Boreas swayed in wantonness these vales, 
 
 Lording it with a despot might that wrought 
 
 Ruin of beauty and despair of joy 
 
 In all the gladless realms he had o'er-passed 
 
 And blasted with his icy armaments. 
 
 Meanwhile, not idle were the exiled gods 
 
 So cruelly bereft of haunts endeared ; 
 
 They, leaguered with the sun host and the spring, 
 
 Made mighty preparations for the fray, 
 
 Enduing armor bright and weaponing 
 
 Their multitude with golden shafts of sun. 
 
 There never was, I ween, more thrilling sight 
 
 Than when these armies 'rayed themselves for war 
 
 And ominous led on their endless hosts. 
 
 To northward on the heights had Boreas 
 
 Made stand with mighty banners white of snow. 
 
 Crowded about with arms that swayed and glanced 
 
 In countless millions, with intrepid van 
 
 Down streaming over valleys in defiles 
 
 Of bristling icy spears that fearful shone. 
 
 While all about in dance of death there gleamed 
 
 The myriad snow-wraiths chanting weird refrains. 
 
 Th' advancing host swept up the southern pass 
 
 With Calochortus leading the bright band. 
 
78 The Descent of Boreas 
 
 There was a vast array all panoplied 
 
 In golden mail with shields like suns that shone 
 
 And weapons glinting brightly on their foes. 
 
 About them pressed the host of spring with flowers 
 
 To scatter in their path and garlands bright 
 
 Were tossed in air to wave above the fray. 
 
 The maidens sang of triumph, joy and life, 
 
 The glory of the spring was in their strain, 
 
 And blithe bird-voices swelled the choir of song, 
 
 Vocal with love, with hope melodious. 
 
 When on they came there was a hushed spell 
 
 As if no voice dared violate the trance 
 
 Of strife impending ; then an uproar wild 
 
 Swelling into a wind-tossed wail of doom 
 
 Proclaimed the swift advance of icen hosts. 
 
 The Naiads shuddered at the tumultuous moan, 
 
 And bright gods leveled weapons at the foe. 
 
 There was a clash of arms, a stifled cry 
 
 As when a million waves all hush their moan, 
 
 And slowly pressed the gods their northward way. 
 
 The snow- wraiths wailed as far away they winged. 
 
 While sullen smote the armed host of ice 
 
 Driven by that bright band invincible. 
 
 It was a triumph won with toil supreme, 
 
 And still the ice-gods threatened them afar 
 
 Massed on the heights where, waiting to descend. 
 
 Their white ranks glistened like grim ghosts of doom. 
 
 Scarcely had Calochortus ta'en his stand 
 
 Implanting o'er the vales his banners bright 
 
 Of golden stars on fields the verdantest, 
 
 When down the hills onsurged the pallid throng 
 
 In dreary multitudes that shrilled despair 
 
The Descent of Boreas 79 
 
 To gods of flowerful vales retenanted. 
 
 They fell before the onslaught and again 
 
 Left fields and blooms a spoil of icy rout, 
 
 And earth was paved with pale snow-flow'rs of death. 
 
 Thus in successive victory they waged 
 
 The mighty contest for supremacy, 
 
 The gods of life slow gaining, fight by fight, 
 
 The gods of death reluctant yielding sway, 
 
 Until the valleys were reclaimed quite, 
 
 And all the heights save those lone peaks afar 
 
 Where solitary camped in scattered bands 
 
 The thwarted remnants of the haughty host. 
 
 From all these travails of the world of air 
 Had Mica shrunk to gloomy caverns deep 
 Whence seldom now outflowed his molten streams, 
 And rarely did he shake the earth in wrath." 
 So dwelt in joy the blessed gods of day 
 For many a blissful aeon undisturbed, 
 Treasuring all beauty in their radiant bowers. 
 
8o Idyls of El Dorado 
 
 AVILA AND STURNELLUS 
 
 A myth of the meadow-lark's song at dawn. 
 
 Avila, bright Avila, in the band 
 
 Of blessed hours none other beams so fair 
 
 As thou, O radiant morning-star of heav'n. 
 
 With joys imprint upon thy countenance, 
 
 Queen of the dawn and darling of the day. 
 
 As night o'er-wings thou risest, poising bright 
 
 On fleckless peak of snow, thy golden hair 
 
 Streaming before the wind in shimmering strands ; 
 
 Thy wreathed smiling face with greeting blithe 
 
 Like rose half-oped beams fondly on the day. 
 
 What chorus heralds thee from comely birds 
 
 Piping about thy feet their mellow songs ! 
 
 First rolls the thrush his high ascending strain. 
 
 The little gold-finch warbles from the brier, 
 
 The linnet carols on exultant wing. 
 
 And all in praise of their dear mates and thee, 
 
 Avila, most endeared of all the hours. 
 
 At sight of thee the poppies lift their heads, 
 
 The morning-glories' dainty cups uncurl, 
 
 And earth is pranked in fresh array of bloom, 
 
 All scintillant with jeweled diadems 
 
 Brighter than diamonds and more frail than fiow'rs. 
 
 Among the meadow-gods was one who teased 
 Wild strains of beauty out of pierced reeds. 
 Blowing with ardent soul his rapture forth 
 And panting such sweet melodies serene 
 As thrilled all hearers with its haunting pow'r. 
 Sturnellus was his name — the god of song, 
 
A Vila and Sturnellus 8i 
 
 And he was vested with a gold attire, 
 
 With jetty cirque about his glist'ning breast, 
 
 And russet cloak against the morning dew. 
 
 When he beheld Avila he was thrilled 
 
 By her rare loveliness, and played a strain 
 
 So wildering in beauty, so divine, 
 
 That his tranced list'ner fain would dally there 
 
 To sate her longing for the baffling joy; 
 
 But she was urged on by restive hours 
 
 And winged, uncloyed, to her empyreal home. 
 
 Next morn Sturnellus waited at her throne 
 
 To pipe anew his reedy pastoral. 
 
 And freshly was she stirred to am'rous thoughts. 
 
 Thus more enamored morn by morn she grew, 
 
 And more elated rose th' impassioned strains 
 
 Until she could not rouse herself to flee, 
 
 Though hours importuned and indignant time 
 
 Frowned on the fair delinquent dallying there. 
 
 Day was arrested while the minstrel sang 
 
 And all the gods bent ear in ecstasy. 
 
 Then Fate, unheeding plaints of passioned love 
 
 From her far covert glanced with boding frown. 
 
 She saw the tranced hour absorbed with love. 
 
 Spelled by sweet song from duty's path severe ; 
 
 She saw the tempter with melodi'us reed 
 
 And all th' attendant host of list'ning gods. 
 
 Then spake she while each heart grew faint with fear : 
 
 " Tempted and temptor, hear the voice of Fate ! 
 
 Begofie, Avila, unto heaven's bright gate, 
 
 And thou, Sturnellus, ^sunie thy proper state. ^^ 
 
 A crash of thunder and a flare of fire 
 
 Roused the still host, and as they looked above 
 
82 Avila and Sturnellus 
 
 Avila shone from heav'n, a quivering star, 
 And o'er the mead Sturnellus winged, a lark, 
 His song still trembling toward his love in heav'n. 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 83 
 
 THE WAR OF THE TITANS 
 
 A myth of the seashore, describing the struggles of the rocks, trees, 
 and living creatures with King Tempest 
 
 iEons agone the great Sea Mother throve, 
 
 A soHtary Titan, vast and lone, 
 
 A passionate, majestic creature, vast. 
 
 Companioned only by th' refulgent stars. 
 
 The dreamy votress in the vast of night. 
 
 And that celestial master of the day. 
 
 She teemed with all the wonders of the world, 
 
 She harbored near her heart all gifts of heav'n, 
 
 She treasured in her breast the life to be. 
 
 The great Lord Mica, ruler leagues below. 
 
 Had sought her in her splendid solitude. 
 
 And of their love was born a line of sons, — 
 
 A Titan race, upon their mother's breast 
 
 Reared fondly, as became their high estate, — 
 
 The vasty offspring of the fire and sea. 
 
 Of these were none more strong than Porphery 
 
 And Titan Granite and Pyrites bright — 
 
 Three lusty sons to do their destined task. 
 
 Like peaks they stood upon their mother's strand. 
 
 And heard her proud peals breaking on the day. 
 
 Or caught at night her murmur at their feet. 
 
 While round about the stars bent down to hear, 
 
 A joyous family they lingered there. 
 
 Shielding with fond solicitude the life 
 
 That sought their ample harborage from storm. 
 
 About their feet the kelp streamed to and fro 
 
 As if it were their mother's waving hair; 
 
84 The War of the Titans 
 
 The spined Echini clung to them unfeared, 
 The bright Asteriids basked in dim retreat, 
 The fringed Medusae waved their filaments, 
 The Limpets pressed their lips against the stones. 
 And all was joy upon the wide seashore ! 
 
 Such sweet repose could not forever bide, 
 
 Since one there was most keen to bring them woe ■ 
 
 A boist'rous tyrant, jealous aye of peace. 
 
 And ready to rebuke content with scorn. 
 
 King Tempest was this monarch turbulent — 
 
 A wild storm-king with sea-weed madly crowned, 
 
 Mantled in dun clouds, mailed in glist'ning brine. 
 
 Sceptred with wind, and throned upon the tide. 
 
 He saw the happy habitants of shore 
 
 And smote them with his potent arm of mail ; 
 
 For was he not the deadly foe of peace. 
 
 The ardent hater of all placid things? 
 
 But even he, grim king of stress and storm, 
 
 Could simulate at times a placid mien, 
 
 Playing the wooer in his soft disguise. 
 
 It chanced that Titan Granite took for bride 
 
 A sad, dark nymph, Cupressa, fair to see — 
 
 A pensive goddess, seldom roused from grief, 
 
 Who so entranced the storm-god that he sighed 
 
 Soft music in her ear, and sought to gain 
 
 A smile in greeting when he neared her strand. 
 
 Howbeit, she scorned the gruff king's fond caress. 
 
 So constant was she to her chosen lord, 
 
 And grew more cold the more his suit he urged. 
 
 He thereon in his burst of angerness 
 
 Made vow to bear Cupressa to his court. 
 
The War of the Titans 85 
 
 But firmly did she wind her loving arms 
 
 About her master's breast, while vainly toiled 
 
 King Tempest to unclasp her. Fierce his voice 
 
 Swept round her, while her tresses, dark, were blown 
 
 Upon the night. She sobbed and cried in fear 
 
 As fast she clung to her unflinching lord 
 
 Who stood defiant through the rudest shock. 
 
 O who can thwart King Tempest, roused in might, 
 
 WTien his white quivering hand in wrath is raised, 
 
 WTien his loud thunder bursts upon the shore? 
 
 Not e'en the Titans can his ravage stay, 
 
 For he is lord of all the realm of air. 
 
 Commanding armed legions unto death. 
 
 While this fierce war was waging on the strand 
 
 Came one, a fairy god forth from the sea, — 
 
 Fair Larus, ofTspring of King Tempest wild," 
 
 Mothered of that frail Nereid, Flying Foam. 
 
 All candid was his vesture ; pearly gray 
 
 His mantle fell, and might}' ebon wings 
 
 Urged him in glorious circles through the blue. 
 
 He little loved his m.ig'ht}- t}Tant sire. 
 
 For Liberty controlled his spirit high 
 
 And Freedom claimed him for her neophyte. 
 
 Therefore King Tempest strove his seed to crush, 
 
 Unwilling one of lineage so proud 
 
 Should spread such heresies to gods afar. 
 
 He sought fair Larus in mid-ocean haunts, 
 
 But lo! the Mother Foam her child had warned, 
 
 And he was winging toward the port of peace! 
 
 King Tempest followed, threat' ning as he sped, 
 With hoarse voice howling o'er the turbid sea, 
 
86 The War of the Titans 
 
 With ministering waves and brow of night 
 
 Threat'ning the concourse of sea-roving gods. 
 
 Three spirits tended him, fierce formed and strange, 
 
 Three monsters lashing through the brine for prey- 
 
 Rhina, a demon-goddess, scaled and grim, 
 
 A savage denizen of darksome deeps. 
 
 And Galeus, her mate of loathsome form, 
 
 From whom all timid sea-things shrank in fear. 
 
 And huge Heptanchus, fellest shape of death ! 
 
 In silence glistened they upon the gloom 
 
 With savage visages and glassy eyes 
 
 And fierce teeth gnashing in their cruel heads. 
 
 Then all King Tempest's trumpeters swept past. 
 
 Blowing wild harmonies upon the air 
 
 To speed their royal master on his course. 
 
 What fear impelled the pitiful godson, 
 Frail Larus, as he winged his panting way 
 Before such press of foe ! what thought of death, 
 What anguish, nerved his wings to tenser strain! 
 He sought the shelter of the Titans' strand. 
 Where bright Pyrites welcomed him with cheer. 
 And Porphery reached out enfolding arms. 
 Thus thwarted was the sire, the king of storm. 
 Who, doubly angered, turned upon the band 
 Of sturdy Titans towering on the shore: 
 "There shall be reckoning for this," he cried; 
 "Proud heads shall fall and haughty spirits fail, 
 Aye, though the years grow weary of our strife, 
 It shall not end nor rest 'twixt thee and me!" 
 "Ah Tempest King," made answer Porphery, 
 "Against thy wrath we stand serene and sure, 
 With all frail creatures treasured close from harm." 
 
The War of the Titans 87 
 
 The wrathy tyrant turned and sought the deep, 
 His hosts to muster and his shame to heal, 
 The while frail Larus rested there in peace. 
 
 It was a joyous spell, from danger freed, 
 
 With beauty round about, — the singing sea 
 
 And, on the sun-swept strand, her children fair 
 
 Breathing soft melodies through conchs out-rolled, 
 
 Or dancing on the iridescent shore. 
 
 The heart of Larus stirred with love's soft thrill 
 
 And of the Nereids he chose for bride 
 
 The dreamy Abalona, gentlest maid 
 
 Of all the daughters of the glist'ning sand. 
 
 She was so chastely robed that one might well 
 
 Have passed her by unnoted, but within 
 
 Her breast there throbbed a heart of lucent pearl. 
 
 Steadfast was she, and full of loving ways, " 
 
 Companion meet for Larus, bright and free. 
 
 They held sweet converse of the realms of air. 
 
 Of liberty on pinions tried and bold; 
 
 They heard the soft sea-voices babbling near. 
 
 They listened to the tones of singing sands. 
 
 And reveled in the beauty and the peace. 
 
 Then Larus in his arms upbore his bride, 
 
 Venturing upon the parlous stretch of sea 
 
 To prove his mastery of dizzy heights. 
 
 King Tempest spied his son with this fair freight 
 
 And made attack with such a sudden might 
 
 That Abalona from his grasp was torn 
 
 And hurled to ruin down the steep of sky. 
 
 Ah weep, god Larus, for thy lost belov'd, 
 
 By Tempest King so rudely cast to doom, 
 
88 The War of the Titans 
 
 Ah weep, god Larus, since thy love no more 
 
 May cheer thee when thou seekest peace from strife, 
 
 No more may greet thee by the singing tide! 
 
 There was a solemn funeral by night, 
 
 The while the great Sea Mother wept for grief 
 
 And multitudes of maidens vainly mourned. 
 
 Then Larus laid away the loved form 
 
 And o'er the trackless darkness wandered lone. 
 
 Unsated still the King of Tempests raged, 
 
 With fury trebly on the Titans turned 
 
 Through many a cycle of consuming strife. 
 
 A glorious stand they made against his might, 
 
 Stubborned through aeons of adversity, 
 
 Battling to hold their post against the foe. 
 
 With all their offspring ranged they on the shore, 
 
 Steadfast beneath the fiercest shock of storm ; 
 
 But one by one they fell in valiant fight, 
 
 Prostrate and nerveless on the moaning strand. 
 
 The great Sea Mother then outreached her arms 
 
 To fold them fondly to her awful breast 
 
 Where they might brood in peace upon their woe. 
 
 Even Pyrites in his glist'ning mail, 
 
 And Porphery, the dauntless, fighting fell. 
 
 Leaving old Titan Granite hoar and lone 
 
 To battle for Cupressa, and to share 
 
 All burdens of the haunters of the shore, 
 
 All sorrows of the sea, all stress of storm. 
 
 L«rc 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 8 
 
 THE MIST MAIDENS 
 
 In which is recounted the bringing of the rain from the sea 
 
 Deep in the haunted sea a Neriad host 
 
 Sported in vasty hails of splendid state, 
 
 Bannered with purple and enpaved with pearl, 
 
 Dim lighted with wan, wavering globes of fire, — 
 
 A mystic region of enchanting calm. 
 
 Dolphins with azure fins and milk-white breasts 
 
 About them glanced, and king-fish, scaled with hues 
 
 Of opal or of sun-bow, lashed the deep. 
 
 It was a wonder world so strange and still 
 
 That gods grew fearful when they trod its halls 
 
 And viewed its tapestries so richly wrought. 
 
 Its swaying phosphor lamps, its multitude " 
 
 Of voiceless creatures stealing through the gloom. 
 
 Its caverns dark where scarce a glim of day 
 
 Reached down to warm the torpid things that clung 
 
 In cold recesses 'mid unending night. 
 
 There were enchanted forests never stirred 
 
 By roving winds, but in the pulsing sea 
 
 Slow waving their high tops that sought the light 
 
 In streaming amber ribbons, ribbed and curled. 
 
 Through these unearthly halls and groves roved free 
 
 In wanton joy the bright mist maiden band, — 
 
 The radiant offspring of th' eternal deep. 
 
 All peerless were they in their dim retreat, 
 
 With shimmering tresses and with bodies pale, 
 
 Mantled in pearls and zoned with coral bands. 
 
 And garlanded with sea- weed streaming free. 
 
go The Mist Maidens 
 
 Sometimes they left the caves of ocean deep 
 To frolic in the boist'rous wave-tossed tide. 
 Chasing the Nereids 'mid flying foam 
 Or reveling in mist of storm-churned sea. 
 
 When from bright heav'n the Children of the Sun 
 
 Beheld this witching pageant of the spray, 
 
 They swept to ocean in exultant flight. 
 
 Their bucklers and their spears glanced bright with gold 
 
 And glitt'ring were their fair accouterments, 
 
 Their beamy locks and eyes all scintillant. 
 
 Amid the foam each seized a nymph at play 
 
 And fled high into heav'n with beauteous prize 
 
 Where ships of cloud were drifting idly by. 
 
 In these fair galleons of gold they sailed 
 
 Upon the azure deep, down streams of air 
 
 Where ne'er a ripple left their vessels' prows ; 
 
 With royal sails out-hung they swiftly sped ; 
 
 Toward land they voyaged, a godly company 
 
 Chanting glad pseans upon the starry night. 
 
 Above the sea, above the hills they passed. 
 
 O'er valleys wide they ranged and on the heights, 
 
 Snow-paved, they moored at eve their radiant fleet, 
 
 When forth the glad Mist Maidens leaped with song, 
 
 Pattering to earth with silver-sandaled feet. 
 
 Then was there joy amidst despairing flow'rs. 
 
 For these sea-spirits loved all tender things, 
 
 And with soft kisses did they give them cheer. 
 
 Wooing them from chill tombs to joy and light. 
 
 On woodland slopes and plains from heights to sea 
 
 Was such a hymeneal festival 
 
 As might have spelled old gods with wonderment 
 
The Mist Maidens 91 
 
 And gladdened back to youth time-weary things. 
 
 The lust'rous progeny of peerless Sun 
 
 Had ta'en the fairest daughters of the sea, 
 
 And for their spousal robed the earth in bloom. 
 
 I dare not say what wealth of laughing flow'rs 
 
 Danced as the breezes rippled up the hills — 
 
 What joyous bands of beauteous dryades 
 
 Gossamered in white and blue tossed heads in air, 
 
 What golden creatures swayed across the plains, 
 
 What Naiads tricked in pink and violet 
 
 Frisked in the greenery, or wantoned gay 
 
 Upon the marge of some wild chanting stream. 
 
 It was a nympholeptic fete of flow'rs. 
 
 A carnival of blossoms without peer, 
 
 A rhapsody of bloom the gods to spell. 
 
 Full joyous were the days with beauty bright, 
 
 Until forth sped the daughters of the sea, 
 
 Leaping adown mad cataracts at night 
 
 And gliding on in silver streams at noon. 
 
 They sought their own loved elemental deep; 
 
 For still the sea-mist filmed their sparkling eyes, 
 
 And caves of coral lured them to their home. 
 
 When they were vanished from all sylvan bowers 
 
 The Scions of the Sun with wrath were keen 
 
 And cruelly did they bestrew the flowers 
 
 Which late had decked the land in bridal wreaths. 
 
 Their spears flashed death amidst the shrinking host, 
 
 The green blades wilted and the blossoms sear 
 
 Lapsed back into their tombs of crumbling clay, 
 
 Since their loved Maidens of the Mist had fled. 
 
 Then marshaled the Sun Gods a Titan host 
 
 To stand as warders of their brides, to be 
 
92 The Mist Maidens 
 
 Reclaimed from the waves glad to their groves. 
 
 A mighty concourse stood they on the hills : 
 
 The host Sequoia, stately and sublime. 
 
 All robed in green they reared their vasty heads 
 
 Towering amid the fleeting cloud-host's van 
 
 With whom they held unceasing converse high. 
 
 Then fared the Sun Gods forth upon the sea 
 
 And filched anew the Mist Maids for their groves, 
 
 Placing them tenderly where they might find 
 
 All earthly bliss but never 'scape the care 
 
 Of those high guardians in mantles green. 
 
 Again joy thrilled the heights, again the plains 
 
 Were broidered with bright tracery of flow'rs; 
 
 The hills were diademed with poppies gold. 
 
 With castilleias rathe and columbine ; 
 
 The meadows shone with buttercups, the vales 
 
 Were splendid deck'd in lilies chaste as snow. 
 
 With dog-toothed violets and bronzed bells 
 
 And fleurs-de-lis that proudly curled their lips. 
 
 Ah, might that gladsome time have been but spelled 
 
 Into an everlasting season of delight, 
 
 With meadows haunted by the host of heav'n. 
 
 And hymning seraphim on azure hills ! 
 
 Alas, the Maidens of the Mist 'gain pine 
 
 For ocean grottoes with their mystic gloom, 
 
 For dolphins and rare convoluted shells. 
 
 Pearl tinted and frail formed, for all the dear 
 
 Remembered blisses lingering in the deep. 
 
 They moaned adown the streams and sobbed and cried 
 
 Where stood the multitude o'erwatching them, 
 
 And made appeal so piteous and lorn 
 
 As to bestir compassion in their lords. 
 
The Mist Maidens 93 
 
 The Sun Gods freed their loves with solemn pledge 
 
 That when the season had made half its round 
 
 They would return and with redoubled cheer 
 
 Call back with silver songs the birds and fiow'rs, 
 
 Summoning all creatures to their holiday. 
 
 Thus in alternate round of shore and sea 
 
 The Maidens of the Mist have yearly ranged, 
 
 But still the sea holds leash upon their hearts 
 
 And eagerly they leap to meet its foam, 
 
 Save when the vast Sequoias and the race 
 
 Of woodland Titans— ^ Spruce and Fir and Pine 
 
 Restrain full tenderly their hasting feet 
 
 And bid them tarry to make glad the fiow'rs. 
 
 Evanished are those days of godly things 
 
 When on Hesperian shores, in fealty 
 
 To beauty, footed free the host of heav'n. 
 
 Their tenuous forms, like dreamland ghosts have flown, 
 
 To find new haunts on singing spheres afar. 
 
 But in our vales love tokens still abide 
 
 Of their blessed presence — birds and trees and fiow'rs 
 
 To body forth their beauty still on earth. 
 
 O ye, to whom all things of life are dear 
 
 Who treasure the sweet carolings of birds, 
 
 The modest faces of spring posies bright. 
 
 The veined sheen of insects' vibrant wings, 
 
 The plash of fountains and the flow of streams, 
 
 With silvern fish amidst their quiet pools, — 
 
 Forget not that the mountain Titans still 
 
 Stand sentinel, transmuted to fair trees 
 
 That weave their branched arms above the springs 
 
 To treasure all their wealth of liquor sweet, — 
 
94 
 
 The Mist Maidens 
 
 Forget not that the passing of the groves 
 Means death to flow'rs and all of life most fair, 
 Means ravishment of earth and ruin wide, 
 Whereat the tender gods will weep afar 
 And cry out: "Stay, O vandals, stay thy greed 
 That beauty may not leave thee in despair." 
 
Idyls of El Dorado 95 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE GOD OF LIGHT 
 
 King of all bright and joyous gods of air 
 And peeriess master of the spheres of light, 
 O glorious ruler in thy parel blue 
 Shining with thy own splendor through the void, 
 A multitude of spirits voice thy praise ! 
 Thou hast engirdled earth with zone of cloud. 
 The waters thou hast scattered o'er the hills, 
 Thou hast ordained the winds, thy ministrants, 
 And summoned jocund birds to grace thy bow'rs. 
 At touch of thy bright wand the buds unfurl, 
 The waves all sparkle at thy joyous glance ; 
 The world obeys thy mandate from afar. 
 The singing spheres in loud accord to thee ^ 
 Address their harmonies, and all the throng 
 Of orbed followers, in mighty strains 
 Augment thy majesty. Fair Earth is thine, 
 With her pale lesser child, and all the day 
 Thou castest benediction on her head ! 
 Thy will is perfect law, thy word is light, 
 And thy sweet influence unites the world. 
 Life, at thy bidding, leaps from formless stone ; 
 The gods of sea and land, of cloud and shore 
 All own thy sovereignty, majestic king ! 
 Thou makest cold things warm with ardent touch, 
 Thou castest sorrow to the winds of night, 
 Thou fillest earth and heav'n with joy and love ! 
 
f^ 
 
K^ 
 
 1^ '"'***'* ^^ ''^ 
 
 
 
 JsPvV 
 

 ^^ * O « O ^ 4 
 
 
 
 
 
 1^ - V * 
 
 
 ^ 6^"-. 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 '^^ 
 
 
 o^ •«ro' ,0 
 
 *t. ♦•"• .'^ 
 
 
 
 '.' .♦^•V '. 
 
 7 «5.^"-. 
 
 •^^ ■"<?. •.'OE/,* ^^^ -n*. ".vw* -J*^ ^ -J 
 
 
 <, ^'T-ro'^o^- 
 
 O, 'o . 
 
 <* *'..« 
 
 
 
 
 jp-n^. 
 
 HECKMAN 
 BINDERY INC. |e 
 
 €. DEC 88 
 W N. MANCHESTER, 
 ^ INDIANA 46962