:^^; mm-. '■mi ! }3^iM -^^ * .'. S %/ '^., -.^egs^' .^^ •%. r ^<. .v, * .c .-*' ,-^ -/., ^ .' ?,.'- ,.# I > .'\ H -Ta .^N^ 0^- . 8 I A " y^ ^' ^^ ^>^' snows. Long may that sunny brow of thine Be free from bitter care; Long be it ere a gloomy cloud Shall cast a shadow there. I know, my child, that grief's in store For all of mortal birth. That tears must wet the cheeks of all Who tread the vales of earth; But tears may be like gentle showers That bid the daisies bloom, And sorrow does not always cast A chilling shade of gloom. Then be thy griefs like clouds that float Across the summer sky; And may their shadows on thy soul E'er pass as quickly by; TO MARY. 335 And may the tears that thou must shed Fall lightly as the shower That Nature sheds in summer dews Upon the sleeping flower! And when with thee the dewy spring And summer days are o'er, And when upon thy sunny cheek The roses bloom no more, May still the sunny rays of Hope Beam brightly on thy head, And o'er the closing eve of life A golden radiance shed. San Francisco, 1878. TO CLEM. 'T IS long since I, with bat and ball, And top and marbles played, Or roamed a wild and barefoot boy O'er sunny field and glade. For three-score years have cast their snows Upon my ag6d head, And summer leaves and summer flowers With summer years have fled! But still the sun of life is bright, Though going down the sky, For Hope still sings a cheerful song As days and years go by. So live — that, when the hand of Time Upon thy brow is laid. And summer flowers have withered all In autumn's chilling shade. That thou upon a well-spent life Mayst look with calm repose, And with a cheerful patience wait Its quiet, peaceful close. Is the wish of your father. San Francisco, May, 1880. ON THE DEATH OF A POOR YOUNG GIRL. Sleep, gentle maiden, sweetly sleep, — Thy dream of life is o'er; The tears that Sorrow bade thee weep Shall dim thine eyes no more. Thou wert a flower of fairest hue. Which morning suns unclose, Pure as the drops of early dew That glitter on the rose. But now, alas! the bitter frost Of death has nipt thy bloom; The flower has felt a chilling blast, And withers in the tomb. Sleep, gentle maiden, sweetly sleep, — Thy dream of life is o'er; The tears that Sorrow bade thee weep Shall dim thine eyes no more. Henderson County, Illinois, 1847. ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND, WHO DIED AMONG STRANGERS. [judge ALEXANDER BAINE.] Friend of my youth! thou art no more — The toils of Hfe with thee are o'er; Thy manly soul from earth has passed And found a peaceful home at last! Why should I weep that thou art gone, And all thy earthly toils are done! That thy clean hand and manly brow Are mouldering in the charnel now! For well I know, that far away. In beauteous realms of endless day. Thy soul has found that sweet repose That none but the honest spirit knows. What though around thy dying bed No drops of kindred tears were shed! That strangers only watched thy death And caught thy last expiring breath! Full well I know, that they to thee Gave kindest words of sympathy, And that thy sad and lonely bier Was wet with many a manly tear. And well I know, that angel bands. From brightest realms of heavenly lands Poured in thine ear the songs of love That thrill the starry courts above! And now, methinks, I catch the song Breathed by the bright, angelic throng, ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 339 As o'er their golden harps they hung And thus to heavenly music sung: " All welcome! to the coming one, Whose earthly labors now are done; All welcome to the spirit blest, That soon with us will be at rest! " There is for thee in heavenly lands A home prepared, not made with hands, Where thou shalt rest when life is o'er, And feel its chilling storms no more. " Then shalt thou meet thine early dead, O'er whom a father's tears were shed As their pale forms were sadly laid Beneath the weeping willow's shade. " And there with them, in robes of light, (Too dazzling far for mortal sight), Thou 'It tread beneath celestial skies The crystal courts of Paradise ! " And in that land thou soon shalt see The widowed one who weeps for thee, And there, when life's bleak storms are o'er. Ye '11 dwell in love to part no more. ** Then welcome! spirit loved so well. To the bright land where angels dwell; We wait to guide thee on the way To regions of eternal day! " Yes, thus methinks the angels sung. As o'er their tuneful harps they hung. While Love's celestial light was shed In glory round the dying bed. And, when by Azrael's fatal stroke The trembling chords of life were broke. The happy spirit joined the throng That to angelic choirs belong. 340 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. Then, from the distant heavenly plain, There came a thrilling, melting strain Of music, such as angels sing, When the redeemed from earth they bring. The azure hills caught up the song The melting cadence bore along, Which, from remotest regions far, Was answered by the chiming star! Oh, then why weep that thou art gone, And all thy earthly toils are done! Since well I know that thou art blest In a bright land of heavenly rest. Still must I weep, my early friend. As o'er thy silent grave I bend, To think that none of kindred blood Beside thy lonely death-bed stood. San Francisco, 1S63. EPITAPH ON SOPHIE. Tread lightly, friend, this ground is holy Where the sorrowing willows wave, And the little ones are weeping O'er a mother's quiet grave. IN MEMORY OF HARRY. Oh, why do I weep for thee still ! I know that I am looking in vain — For I know that here upon earth I shall never behold thee again. But the tears that fall from my eyes, Though from sorrow and grief they are born, Are as soft and sweet to my soul As dew to the breast of the morn! For, when the scenes of this life are all o'er, And with its toils and its strifes I have done, In the land where the seraphim dwell I know that I '11 meet the lost one. San Francisco, 1877. IN MEMORY OF CLARA. She sleeps beneath the daisies now, The turf lies o'er her breast, And wild birds sing their sweetest notes Around her place of rest. Soft be thy sleep, pale, stricken one! Thy peaceful bed I 've made, And gently laid thee down to rest Beneath the cypress shade. I '11 weep no more for thee, my child, I '11 weep no more for thee; 'Twas but thine earthly form I laid Beneath the cypress-tree. I see thy gentle face again! And on thine angel brow The smiles of love and beauty tell That thou art happy now. So I will weep no more, my child, But will with patience wait Till I may kiss thy brow again Within the shining gate! No, father, weep no more for me; No, weep no more for me; For at the shining, crystal gate I '11 surely wait for thee! I '11 surely wait for thee, father; I '11 surely wait for thee — For at the shining, crystal gate I '11 surely wait for thee. IN MEMORY OF CLARA. 343 And I '11 give thee a gentle kiss, Just as I did of yore, When, wearied with thy daily toils, I met thee at the door! I met thee at the door, father; I met thee at the door — When, wearied with thy daily toils, I met thee at the door. I '11 lead thee to a rosy bower, Where many friends await To greet thee, in the beauteous land Within the shining gate! Within the shining gate, father; Within the shining gate — To greet thee, in the beauteous land Within the shining gate. Then, father, weep no more for me; No, weep no more for me; For at the shining, crystal gate I'll surely wait for thee! I '11 surely wait for thee, father; I '11 surely wait for thee— For at the shining, crystal gate I '11 surely wait for thee. San Francisco, 1878. ON THE DEATH OF DICK, A CANARY-BIRD. [killed by a cat, TUESDAY, JUNE 30, 189I.] Hushed is thy tuneful, warbling voice, Its silvery notes have fled — But still I cannot think thy soul, Like thy sweet song, is dead. For, oh! so sweet a voice as thine Was never born on earth; Methinks that where the angels sing, That there it had its birth! And I will weep for thee, poor bird, To think thy harmless life, Which had been spent in mirthful song, Should end in pain and strife. But yet, perchance, thy warbling notes Still smg a cheering strain; And, too, who knows but I may yet Hear thy sweet voice again! For 'mid the bowers of Paradise 'T is said that birds do sing; If so, I think that there thy voice In silvery notes will ring. The daisy gave to Burns a name; The skylark's song to Shelley fame; While I can like a sailor swear At everything I see That tells of an unfeeling heart Of fiendish cruelty — ON THE DEATH OF A CANARY-BIRD. 345 I 'm not ashamed to shed a tear And feel a touch of grief, E'en o'er a dead canary-bird Or o'er a withered leaf! I thank thee, Nature, for this gift, And would not change it now For brightest gem that ever decked A conquering Caesar's brow. San Francisco, June, 1891. TO MY FAMILIAR SPIRIT. THE CHARGE. Oh, but you are a wicked jade! Who all my wayward life has made A thing of fitful light and shade, Like April morn; And many a trick you have me played, Since I was born. You 've led me here — you 've led me there — You've sometimes made me curse and swear, And sometimes made me breathe a prayer, As was your mood To play the devil, or in humor were To play the prude. In wild and wicked company You 've made me sip the barley bree, You 've gone with me on many a spree And rattling rollick, Just for the fun of seeing me Get on a frolic. But now, they say, 't is time that I Should lay these wayward follies by; That I should leave them off, and try. Through grace, to seek Some happy place beyond the sky, Of which they speak — Unless I do, they say, I 'm lost; That in perdition I '11 be tossed, And there upon a burning coast Where devils dwell, I '11 join the congregated host That people hell! TO MY FAMILIAR SPIRIT. 347 They talk about a narrow way That leads from burning wrath away, But few of Adam's sons, they say, Have'ever found it; That those who seek it night and day, Oft go around it. I might take heed to what they preach. And seek to learn from what they teach, How I this narrow path might reach, And strive to hit it — But you — you wicked, sneering wretch, Will not permit it. For if to virtue I 'm inclined. Or to be pious have a mind. You 're sure as death to come behind, And, with a sneer, Breathe something of a humorous kind Into my ear. THE REPLY. What mean you by this silly stuff ? You ought not thus to kick and cuff, And use an ancient friend so rough, — Come, list to me. And I will prove you clear enough An ass to be! Now, God forbid that I should sneer At aught that is to Virtue dear, For all that 's holy I revere, And oft have shed Kind Mercy's soft and melting tear On Sorrow's head. Nor sweet Religion do I scorn; She of kind Charity is born. And, like the gentle dews of morn Upon the rose, 348 TO MY FAMILIAR SPIRIT. Brings to the human heart forlorn A sweet repose. But canting hypocrites I hate, Who maudle o'er man's lost estate, But nothing do that might abate The grief of those Who sigh beneath a heavy weight Of human woes. Behold yon portly, sleek divine, Whose rosy cheeks with fatness shine! What though he sigh, and cant, and whine About the sinner! I warrant you he knows what wine Is best for dinner. And mark you, too, that howling fool, Who ne'er has been a day at school, Yet, with assurance bold and cool. Presumes to give — To men of wisdom — a moral rule By which to live! While he devours a reeking roast, A mutton-chop, and buttered toast. With greasy lips, he'll vainly boast That he can tell What precious souls the Holy Ghost Will save from hell! Hear how he whines about salvation. And cants about regeneration, And howls and snorts about damnation And Adam's fall. And bellows like a bull of Bashan Within his stall! Now, sweet Religion does not dwell With lordly priests who strut and swell. Or ranting fools who howl of hell And deep damnation; TO MY FAMILIAR SPIRIT. 349 Or canting knaves who roar and yell About salvation; But in the widow's humble shed, And by Affliction's dreary bed, And where the little orphan's head All lonely sleeps. And where Affection by the dead Its vigil keeps — 'T is there this heavenly maid is found, And where she treads is holy ground! For through the darkest night profound She guides the way. And lights the sullen gloom around With heavenly ray! What does this gentle maiden teach ? What should her faithful servants preach ? Not that you sigh, and whine, and screech, And horrors cherish, — But that a helping hand you reach To those who perish. That unto others you should do As you would have them do to you; That to the sad, and erring, too. Be kindly given Sweet mercy, like the gentle dew That falls from heaven! This is the golden rule of love By which celestial spirits move; It warms the nestling turtle-dove. And brightly glows When sorrowing angels weep above O'er human woes. Now, we have been together long. And often have with wine and song Beguiled the heavy hours along Life's weary way, 350 TO MY FAMILIAR SPIRIT. And that you 've never done what 's wrong, I will not say — But this I '11 say: With cruel stroke, The bruised reed you ne'er have broke. Nor e'er, by wanton word or joke, (As I do know), Have added to the bitter yoke Of human woe. And I have seen you step aside To drop a tear o'er those who died. Crushed by Misfortune's bitter tide; And give a sigh. When the proud Levite turned aside And came not nigh. Then let your mind all quiet be While musing on eternity; Go on and practice charity And gentle love, And this shall be your guarantee For joys above! San Francisco, 1869. ON A LEE -SHORE. There 's tempest on the weather bow, And breakers on the lee; No friendly beacon sheds its light Upon the midnight sea — Long have I sailed the ocean wave; On many a lee-shore been; But ne'er upon the stormy deep So wild a night have seen! This is an angry, boisterous sea, And this a rock-bound coast, And many a stately bark I know Has on this shore been lost! Unless we clear that rocky point Which now lies dead ahead, All hands will, ere the morning light. The hungry sharks have fed! Aloft, and loose the topsail reefs! The weather braces mind! And, Pilot, hard aport your helm, And hold her to the wind! Now, steady! so — and hold her firm, Nor let her fall away; Heed not the angry, howling storm. Nor mind the dashing spray! She 's drifting still! give her the jib! The strain she '11 have to stand. If we would pass that rocky point And 'scape the threatening land! The struggling barkie holds her own! Oh, she 's a gallant craft! 352 ON A LEE-SHORE. Nor heeds the waves and rushing seas That rake her fore and aft. Her masts, of tough Norwegian pine, Have many a tempest stood, And many a sea has dashed aside Her ribs of oaken wood. Now hold! good cordage, spar, and sail, But for one minute more! And she will pass that threatening rock. And danger will be o'er. 'T is on her bow! 'T is now abeam! Aquarter 'tis at last! Now let the angry tempest howl. For now the danger 's past. Up with your helm, and give her breath! Aye, give the barkie rest; And steer her for a bay that lies Nor' west, a quarter west! And thus, on Life's tempestuous sea. Wild billows often roar, And oft a shattered, struggling bark Is on a leeward shore. An easy thing it is to sail Before a gentle breeze, When skies are bright and fleecy clouds Float o'er the summer seas; But when dark clouds to windward lie, And dangerous rocks alee, 'T is then the seaman must look out And on the deck must be. Then ye, who sail the sea of Life, To windward keep an eye. If ye would 'scape the dangers that Upon the lee-shore lie! San Francisco, 1888. MY SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. On this, my seventieth natal day, I '11 whistle bleak old age away! As I a merry part will play With youthful folk, And be as young and blithe as they In fun and joke. What though upon my hoary head Old Time his wintry snows has shed! What though my youthful days have fled, And left me now With crippled limb and halting tread, And wrinkled brow! I still a merry song can sing. And still I love the flowers of spring; To list the tuneful-sounding string Of merry strain; For these, in pleasant memories, bring The past again. I cannot tell how soon I may Be called from earthly scenes away; Nor yet the part that I may play When life is o'er, And I upon this earth can stay And sing no more. But this I know: where'er it be. That all will then be well with me; For sure I am that I shall see Bright faces there; That still I '11 be as spirit-free As I am here! 354 MY SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. So, when I hear the trumpet call That must at last be heard by all, It will like sweetest music fall Upon my ear. For I shall have no cause at all, I 'm sure, to fear! For, 'mid bright scenes of joy and bliss. In some far brighter land than this. Where rosy beams sweet fiow'rets kiss, I '11 happy be — Among the friends who now I miss. That /A^r^ I'll see! With them I '11 roam o'er meadows green^ And sail o'er lakes of silver sheen, And still recall what I have seen In other lands, And still be clasped, as I have been. By friendly hands! Now, youngsters all, come let me see How bright and merry you can be! And, while I sip the barley bree, I '11 think that I Am still with those so dear to me In days gone by. Let hoary sinners whine and pray. As hypocritic parts they play, And let them think that thus they may Stern Justice cheat. And find in some great judgment day A pleasant seat; While I will list the tuneful string That tells me of the flowery spring. And thus to me in memory bring The past again. Although I 've reached, while thus I sing^ Three-score and ten! San Francisco, November i6, i886. OLD AGE AND TIME. OLD AGE. Tell me, Old Time! if this you can: In counting off the years to man, Why do you some so many give And why do some but few years live ? And why not, too, consult the will Of those you are aboiit to kill ? — It seems to me as hardly fair. The way that things adjusted are; Those who would stay you take away, Those who would ^6> you force to stay! The millionaire who has just died, Although he struggled 'gainst the tide To hold his moorings, yes or no — Was forced at last to let them go; While I, for years almost four-score, Have struggled off a leeward shore, Still never yet have able been To find a port to enter in! Is it because of some dark crime By some one wrought in ancient time. That I am doomed on earth to stay Until the sin is purged away ? Howe'er it be, 't is time for me, I think, to leave this stormy sea. And find a quiet, pleasant spot Where its wild storms may be forgot. TIME. Old Fossil! list, — while I explain Why you on earth so long remain. And if you will give heed to me I think you will contented be — 356 OLD AGE AND TIME. I things adjust as best I can, And no exception make in man, As you will see, I think, when you Have clearly looked the matter through: The millionaire who just has gone, No special good on earth has done; His riches great, in gold and lands, Were gained by work of other hands. And by shrewd cimning, which to me Is but a name for robbery — If he had reached the age you 've won, What good on earth would he have done ? No more than does the spider, by His silent watch to catch a fly! You long the path of Life have trod, And though you have been poorly shod. Yet still you 've done the best you could And something, too, have done of good — You ne'er have shut your humble door Against the suffering, helpless poor; For the sad, wretched outcast, you Have kindly done what you could do, And ne'er have given a cruel stroke To hearts with bitter anguish broke. Therefore, you see. Time has for you Still other labors yet to do, — And while to do you something see, You must with life contented be! OLD AGE. All right, Old Time! I '11 say no more, And here will stay upon this shore As long as you may think it well That I upon the earth should dwell. I '11 stay content, so long as I May dry a tear in Sorrow's eye; Or, cause, by kindly look or hand, A flower to bloom on desert land! San Francisco, January 25, 1893. TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A YOUNG APPOINTEE TO A FEDERAL OFFICE AND AN OLD MAN WHO HAD GROWN GRAY IN THE SERVICE OF THE GOVERNMENT. YOUNG OFFICIAL. I MUCH regret, my dear air, That I must let you know That from this place where long you 've been You now will have to go. I know your service has been long, And that, for what you 've done. To be well stalled by '* Uncle Sam " The right you 've almost won. But 'tis my duty, (as you know). To save the public feed, And not to keep the stock on hand For which there is no need. I trust, that in some other place From trouble you '11 be free- That there good pasture you may find And still well sheltered be. OLD MAN. Young man! I 've reached three-score and ten, And now for many years have been Here toiling in this musty den,* As you 've been told; 'Mong records writ by ancient pen, In days of old. While by the great Republic's laws, The honored Pierce its Chieftain was, * Spanish Archives of California. 358 TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. And led the Democratic cause As President — Then, by Dame Fortune's sees and saws, I here was sent! And here I toiled long wear)^ days. Ere you were in your baby ways, Or yet had learned your childish plays Of ball and top; Or on your chin began to raise The downy crop. Oft to defend some honest claim. Oft to expose a forged name Used to promote some lawless game, Which had been made; And which, without one blush of shame, Was boldly played. And in such work I 've ascertained Some facts by which the State has gained. And many a settler has obtained On public land A goodly home, which had been claimed By grasping hand. If you will list a while to me, I now will tax my memory. And give a list, by which you '11 see I 've something done By which the whole community Has something won: There 's the grant of "Ulpinos," in the Suisun Valley, Which o'er it was spread to many a square league. While the Limantour claim and that of Santillan Were cast o'er the city by the hand of intrigue. The grant of " Moquelemes," in the County of Joaquin- Eleven square leagues on the banks of the rio; The "Santos Call^," in the County of Yolo, With the falsified name of old Governor Pio. TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. 359 The grant to Fuentes, by Micheltorena, And that of "Calaveras," with a clear antedate; Another to Castro, with the Limantour seal, And one to Diaz near the old Golden Gate. The grant of " New Albion " to William A. Richardson, Of many square leagues near Punta Arena; And that to Garcia, the same in extent, With the clearly forged name of Micheltorena. To these I might add perhaps half a score. Whose fraudulent claims were powerfully urged; But when they were scann'd with critical care. They were found by the courts to be certainly forged. Those times and scenes have long since fled; Most of the actors now are dead; But, here and there, with hoary head, You one will meet. With stooping form and limping tread Upon the street. Nor yet alone in search of wrong, Have I thus wrought so hard and long; I too have toiled with will as strong, By day and night. That those should get what might belong To them by right. In barren wilds and savage lands, Where roam the fierce Apache bands; O'er arid plains and desert sands In dangerous travel — My life I 've taken in my hands. Some fraud to unravel — Been scorched by day with tropic heat; Have climbed o'er rocks with blistered feet; With naught but salty jerk to eat, — And made my bed Where mountain storms in fury beat Upon my head! 36o TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. Now don't you think some right I 've won For all the service I have done, And all the risks that I have run, In mine old age To journey somewhat softly on In life's last stage? I ne'er could learn the practic rule. Nor precept of poHtic school; For other's use I 've been a tool To gather pelf, But e'er have been too d — d a fool To help myself ! I 've seen the bird with wounded wing, That could not either fly or sing, Lie in its nest a helpless thing — It would have died, But for the food its mates did bring From far and wide. I 've seen the savage beast of prey, As in his rocky den he lay With tooth and claw all worn away, In snarling mood — But yet the younglings night and day Still brought him food. The scarred warrior, old and worn, Who had with shot and shell been torn, And had the brunt of battle borne On fields of blood — I 've nourished seen, with wine and corn. In shelter good. But I have seen the drudging slave Who all his life to service gave In patient toil, but could not save Out of his wage A few spare pence his way to pave To helpless age, — TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. 361 When worn with toil, like some old steed, In his old age in bitter need, Turned out to find his scanty feed. To live or die; While youngling colts gave him no heed As they pranced by. Confess, I think, you surely must. That such a rule is hardly just — For though you find a little rust Upon the blade, It surely should not, 'mid the dust. Aside be laid. Go read old Roman records o'er, And pages dim of Grecian lore. And o'er Egyptian parchments pore Of ancient age. And learn the fruits that age has bore. On every page! The highest truths are not attained. Nor brightest wisdom e'er is gained. Nor purest knowledge e'er obtained In early youth. Ere yet the mind has ascertained What is the truth. The ripened fruit is never found While verdant leaves are hanging round. And milky weeds are on the ground; Nor golden sheaves, While still is heard the rustling sound Of summer leaves. But when the summer days have passed. And chilly blows the wintry blast. And when old age is coming fast — 'Tis then you '11 find. When on the head white snow is cast, The ripened mind! 362 TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. When Plato taught in ancient time, And Virgil wrote bucolic rhyme, And Pindar sang his odes sublime — The youngsters then, To Fame's high niche were taught to climb By aged men. But things have changed in later days, Since shepherds piped their pastoral lays; The modern youth in worldly ways Is wiser far Than hoary age and frosty grays, And sages are! YOUNG OFFICIAL. Old man! I 've listened to your tale, And well I know 't is true; But still for all, I cannot tell What I can do for you. The service done so long ago Is now remembered not — For those old times have passed away And now are quite forgot. You surely know what now is taught In every modern school: ** If you'll help me, then I '11 helpjj/^//," Is the politic rule. You 've never been in politics, And so you cannot bring Such force to bear as it requires To place you in the ring! You know, in fact, that you 're too old For active work, and that You now are like a summer coon. With neither fur nor fat. And, furthermore, my hands are tied, And nothing I can do; TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. 363 Since I have given all I have, I 've nought to give to you. With this I hope you '11 be content, And so go on your way — For I am very busy now, And have no more to say. OLD MAN. Young man! if what you say is true. The truth to tell, I pity you More than va^s^ii,— indeed I do; That one so bright. So full of strength, and learning, too, Is bound so tight. I 'd rather go and plough the land. And dig the soil and shovel sand. Or keep a thriving peanut-stand, Than thus to vest The right to use my good right hand As I thought best, In hands of some politic wing. Or tyrant boss of ruling ring, And thus be forced to do something — Some place to fill — By one to me that they might bring Against my will. I 'd have small cause, (I 'm sure), to boast Of what I 'd won, but at the cost Of moral will and freedom lost, Though I should count The treasures of the golden coast In the amount. A life of toil I 'd rather dree And live in bitterest poverty. Or on the bleakest desert be. And freedom save — 364 TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. Than roll in wealth and luxury A moral slave! Ere I would " bend the pregnant knees " Some Alexander's whim to please, I 'd rather, like Diogenes, Live in a tub! And roam abroad o'er land and seas In search of grub. Now this is all that I can say; So you can travel on your way. And still in rings politic play Your little game, With hope that at some future day You '11 win a name; While I will do the best I can To finish up my wasting span, And die at last a fearless man. Whose unchained thought Has never yet, since life began. Been sold or bought. But, ere I take my limping way, A word of counsel I would say, And which, although it nothing pay Or profit you, You yet may find, some future day. That it was true : " 111 fares it with the country's pride," When on a filthy, muddy tide Designing men to office ride. Nor even try Their selfish schemes and plans to hide From public eye! We learn from old, historic page, As writ by pen of ancient sage, That through ambition's madd'ning rage The Caesar fell; TURNED OUT TO GRAZE. 365 That Nero's crimes, in later age, Made Rome a hell! And how the Goth and Vandal came With burning torch and lurid flame, And left alone an empty name Where palace stood, And drowned the Eternal City's fame In seas of blood! The Gallic serf, in later day, Of lordly rule was long the play, And to licentious power a prey; At last, he rose! And then in dust the tyrant lay Beneath his blows. The name of Danton thrilled the ear, And many a cheek was blanched with fear When spake the bloody Robespierre; And loud the yell. When, 'mid the hellish din of war, The Bastile fell! When murky clouds hang in the air. And bird and beast give signs of fear. And distant thunders to the ear Low mutterings make — Then you may know the storm is near And soon will break! So let Corruption have a care. And of the coming wrath beware, Lest it the fearful fate should share Of France and Rome, When Ruin drove her red ploughshare Through many a home. San Francisco, 1886. THE VOICES OF CHILDHOOD. The voices of childhood at the sunset of life come back like the whis- perings of an angel, while the roar of the noon-day storm is forgotten. I can still see my mother's gentle face and hear her sweet voice, just as it sounded that night when she said : " Vou 're just sax years auld the night, laddie." Fu' weel do I remember, That night my mither said, ** Your just sax years auld the night, My wee bit, bairnie lad! " I see her smile sae gently; I see her e'e sae bright; I hear her voice soun' sweetly, Just as it did that night. Fu' monie a year hae fleeted; Fu' monie a day since then; For noo in age I 've counted Just three-score year an' ten! I 've gaen on monie a journie; In monie a Ian' hae been; But ne'er in a' my wanderin's Sae sweet a face hae seen As was my gentle mither's, When thus she spak' to me, In that braw night o' simmer As I sat on her knee! I ken that I am hirplin' Doun to a bed o' rest. Where I will be weel happit With the mools aboun my breast; But tho' I 'm auld an' criplit, An' blinit is my e'e, THE VOICES OF CHILDHOOD. 367 I am for a' fu' cherfu' An' life is bright to me! For in some better countrie, Ayont a' grief an' pain, I ken I '11 meet that mither An' hear her voice again. San Francisco, i{ A GREETING TO CARLOS AND MIGUEL, ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR BIRTH. Young scions of a famous race, Whose ancient blood in ye I trace, I greet ye on this smiling morn Which marks the day that ye were born, With earnest wish that ye may be An honor to your ancestry, — That the Peralta's ancient name May ne'er through ye be brought to shame. And that ye may by actions good Do honor to the Silvas' blood, As worthy children of a race Which has in history made a place : In lands where green the olive grows And where the winding Daro flows; Where, under Ferdinand the Brave, The daring Spaniard sought a grave Before Granada's towering walls And in Alhambra's stately halls! Where lofty mountains, capp'd with snow, O'erlook the land of Mexico; Where Montezuma's palace stood And Aztec altars reeked with blood; Where Hernan Cortez made his fight Upon the ghastly "Triste" night. When, with his bold, adventurous band. He won for Spain an empire grand! In regions wild, of savage lands, And deserts lone, of arid sands, Where scorching heat in summer reigns On Arizona's burning plains! GREETING TO CARLOS AND MIGUEL. 369 Aye; of a race which honors won 'Neath wintry sky and tropic sun, Ere to this coast Vizcayno came Or California had a name! But of the race whose names ye bear, The hves of none recorded are Which so eventful were on earth As that of her* who gave ye birth; And rarely, if e'en e'er, perchance, Was known such glamour of romance As that which smiling Fortune shed Upon your early infant bed. And now on this, your natal day, I sing to ye this simple lay, As tribute to the famous race Whose noble blood in ye I trace : Ye buds of Love! ye opening flowers That herald forth Life's spring, Ye come all smiling, fresh, and bright, The fondest hopes to bring! For ye are flowers of rarest growth. With human speech endowed. And breathe the breath of dearest love That is to man allowed. The fairest flower that e'er was plucked Within the Vales of Earth, Is not so sweet, nor half so pure As is a human birth! For 'tis distilled from deepest love Known to a woman's breast, Shaped by that Thought which guides the orb And rounds the robin's nest. * Sofia Loreto Maso y Silva de Peralta. 370 GREETING TO CARLOS AND MIGUEL. It is a link between two hearts; A gage of heavenly love, Which calms the throbbing human breast, And soothes the turtle-dove. Oh, may such rosy beams of love As now upon ye shine, Still fall upon your manhood's years And on their late dechne! San Francisco, February 17, 1894. A FRAGMENT. " How long, O Nature, must I stay Here in this falling house of clay ? The walls are crumbling, and it seems Can not much longer hold the beams; The embers on the hearth are low, No longer give a cheerful glow. And old-time friends that I have known, Have by the Reaper down been mown; Then how much longer must I stay Here in this crumbling house of clay ? " " Patience! Patience! now, my son; Come, wait until your task is done; As summer fruit when ripe, 't is found. Is brought by Nature to the ground, So, when you 've done your work, you '11 be From your decaying house set free! " San Francisco, March 27, 1892. ^ TO ILA, ON HER EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY ; IT BEING THE SAME DAY OF THE MONTH AS MY OWN. [miss ILA LANE.] Again, the circling montiis have brought Thy natal day and mine; But there 's a long, long gap between My day of birth and thine ! The shadow on the dial shows That seventy-two I 've seen, While yet for thee, my sunny child, It only marks eighteen. With me, the summer days have passed, And autumn, too, has fled; For Time his wantry snow has cast Upon my hoary head. With thee, the dew is on the flower, 'T is springtime with thee now! And rosy light from golden clouds Beams on thy sunny brow. Sweet are the songs that wake the morn, And bright the noonday sun. And soothing are the sounds that tell That the long day is done; And thus the dewy spring of life, Should, like the morn, be bright. And when the eye is dimm'd with age Still should the heart be light! 372 TO ILA. Long may that sunny brow of thine By care unfurrowed be, And may the griefs — that all must bear- E'er lightly fall on thee. And when, like mine, thy head is gray, And withered is thy brow, May still thy Hfe be calm and bright And happy as 't is now. San Francisco, November i6, 1888. TO ILA, ON HER MARRIAGE. [iLA LANE-ALLEN.] The skies, dear Ila, that bend o'er thee now, Are bright as the smiles that light thy young brow; The sunbeams of love, around thee that play. Are soft as the dawn of a bright morn in May! Thy bark it is launched — may the breezes that bear It onward through life be gentle and fair As a mother's soft breath, or whispers that tell Where Love has its home, and cherubs may dwell! May Love ever make sweet music for thee, And Hope thy cheering companion e'er be; May the years of thy life all calmly go by Like a long summer's day, with a clear, azure sky; May the noon be as bright as the morning has been. And, in the dim exit of Life's closing scene, May the sweet voice of Love still fall on thine ear. And the bright smile of Hope thy spirit still cheer. San Francisco, February 24, 1894, THE OLD HOUSE. In that low-roofed house, so weird and so gray, That stands on a street so out of the way, I 've long found shelter, in peace and in strife. From the tempests that howl on the ocean of life. As a time-worn book, or long-written page. That old house, like me, is hoary with age; Yet 't is a record of times when life was still young, And the songs of the heart still sweetly were sung! One eve as I sat at the close of the day On its vine-covered porch, going fast to decay. My thoughts wandered back thro' the dim, misty years To the graves I had dug and watered with tears. As the shadows of eve were deep'ning to-night. And the house looked weird in the moonbeams bright, I called up in fancy the ones I had lost. Who o'er its worn steps so often had crossed. First, softly fell upon my ear The pattering sound of childish feet; Anon, the merry ringing notes Of childish voices, soft and sweet. And then two childish forms appeared. With sparkling eyes, and faces bright As sunbeams on the blooming rose, Or lily kissed by morning light! Two little children — bright were they — Who used to sit upon my knee; They called me father, and I wept When they at last were lost to me. 374 THE OLD HOUSE. I sought to detain them, but they would not stay; Like shadows they came, and like dreams passed away! And then came one with hoary head, Who oft with me had broken bread, And in the house had found a bed When day was o'er, And many a page with me had read Of quaint old lore. He was a man somewhat of note, Full of amusing anecdote. And many a passage he could quote From written page, Of what the famous authors wrote Of ancient age. I knew him in the days of yore, Ere Time his head had silvered o'er. And wayward Fortune smiled no more, But passed him by — And left him on a barren shore Alone to die. But now he came as in old time. When he was in his manhood's prime, All full of jokes, and comic rhyme. And merry glee. And often, too, with high, sublime Philosophy! He looked around right cheerily. And cast a pleasant glance at me; Smiled at the simple things which he Had seen before. And very glad he seemed to be With me once more. THE OLD HOUSE. 375 But ere I could greet my old-fashioned friend; And beg him a moment to stay, Like a swift-passing shadow, or a dim, misty dream, He had fled and melted away! And then came one of lofty form; - He had a pensive face; And on his thoughtful brow he bore The lines that sorrows trace — He looked at me kindly, as slowly he passed. And his looks seemed to say he was happy at last. Anon, I heard a lilting strain That told of heathery hills, Of shady glens, and sunny glades. And murmuring mountain rills. And then came one in tartans clad; A minstrel's harp he bore. And in his jaunty bonnet blue A Scottish thistle wore. I knew him as a Scottish bard. On whom Dame Fortune had been hard; A man whose life was illy starred In his old age, And, too, with whom I 'd often shared My daily wage. The wayward Muse we often sought, And from her notes we sometimes caught Of jingling verse and rhyming thought. Which, (truth to tell), While they by none were ever bought, They paid us well. He melted away in a wild, lilting strain. Yet I 'm sure that some day I '11 see him again! 376 THE OLD HOUSE. And then came one of wayward race, With gentle eye and childish face; A gifted son of earth was he, But giv'n to sip the barley bree. I often had him counsel given, And often had him fed, And in the old house oft he 'd found A shelter and a bed. When I would chide him he would weep, And promise make to me That never while on earth he lived He 'd taste the barley bree. He gave me a smile of sweetest delight As he faded away in the shadows of night. Who knows ? Perhaps, from off the tree That in the garden grows. The hand I clasped in bygone days May pluck a blooming rose! Who knows ? Perhaps, beside my chair That by the old hearth stands. Old friends may come and soothe my brow With loving, viewless hands! Who knows? Perhaps, in this old house They still keep their abode — May weep with me, and laugh with me, And help to bear my load! San Francisco, January 15, 1893. THEY HAVE ALL GONE BEFORE. " Say, whither away, So late in the day. Do you journey, old man of sorrow ? Your garments are torn. Your sandals are worn, Come, rest with me till to-morrow!" "No; I must still journey on, For my friends have all gone, — Yes, all have gone on before me; No halt can I make. Nor rest can I take. Where none I can find who know me." " Now, tell me, who are they Who have all gone away. And left you so old and weary, To journey alone Where you are unknown, On this highway, so cold and dreary ? " " One soothed me to rest Upon her soft breast. As she taught me to lisp * Mother ' ! And often at play. In life's early day, I romped with sister and brother! " And one there was fair As fresh lilies are. Whose sweet voice used to greet me, When weary and worn, With the toils I had borne. With bright smiles she would meet me! 378 THEY HAVE ALL GONE BEFORE. " That sweet face I now see As it then looked on me, But, oh! it is bitterly weeping O'er a little curly head, Which on a white bed. Like a cherub in marble, is sleeping. " 'T is many a long day Since they all went away, And left me alone in my sorrow. But well do I know That this journey, though slow, Will end in some brighter to-morrow! " So, I must still travel on Till my journey is done, When I '11 meet my lost ones again; But no halt can I make. Nor rest can I take, While here on the earth I remain." San Francisco, i8S8. THE MINSTREL'S LAST SONG. ( ON A SICK BED IN PROSPECT OF DEATH.) I FEEL the chilling damps of death! Pale, shadowy forms around me stand, And gentle voices, low and sweet. Are whispering of some beauteous land- Some land of sweet repose. Quick! bring the harp of softest note That e'er the minstrel's hand has strung, And I will sing a dying strain — The sweetest yet that e'er I 've sung — Ere this wild life shall close. Farewell, ye flowery fields of earth ! Ye sunny skies and winding streams! Farewell to life! its loves and woes, And all its wild, fantastic dreams — The minstrel sings no more. No; ne'er on earth, his sounding harp Will chain the list'ning ear again. Or bid the tear of sorrow flow. Responsive to its melting strain — Its tuneful notes are o'er. Come near me now, ye cherished ones! The sands of life are ebbing fast; A misty veil hangs o'er my sight; The minstrel's wayward life is past, His toils on earth are done. No more on Fancy's airy wing He '11 roam the beauteous realms of light; Nor, led by Passion's baleful fires. Will wander 'mid the glooms of night — His fitful race is run. 38o THE MINSTRELS LAST SONG. Nay, weep not yet; I would not now Call back the ebbing tide of life, To count again earth's weary years, Or tread again its paths of strife — Life's bitter tears to shed. But, when this heart has ceased to beat. And pale in death this brow shall sleep, When all but Love shall be forgot — Then, let such tears as Love may weep, Fall o'er the minstrel's head. Perchance, in brighter lands than earth, The flowers of beauty still Ym.y bloom; Perchance, the dying son of song, Beyond the shadowy pass of gloom, May tune his lyre again! Perchance, 'mid flowers of fadeless bloom, He may recall his land of birth; Perchance, in tuneful voice again. May sing the songs he sang on earth — But in far sweeter strain! Perchance, upon the wandering breeze That softly fans the evening's breast, He '11 seek again his earthly home. To whisper of a land of rest, When Hfe's wild storms are o'er. Then farewell, all ye earthly scenes, — Ye sunny skies! ye winding streams! Farewell to life! its loves and woes; Passed are the minstrel's airy dreams — He sings on earth no more. San Francisco, 1869. I'LL STRIKE THE EPIC LYRE NO MORE. No MORE of bloody war I '11 sing, Of ghastly fields of carnage red With human blood, by human hands In brutal strife and battle shed. Then, take the epic lyre away! r 11 never touch its chords again; And bring to me the Doric reed, And I will pipe a pastoral strain — Of running brooks and flowery vales, Of meadows green and peaceful herds, Of summer fields and waving corn. Of vernal groves and warbling birds! I'll catch the skylark's silvery note As up he springs to greet the morn; 1 '11 list the song the linnet sings So sweetly in the flowery thorn. I '11 seek the banks where daisies bloom; I '11 pluck the rosebud wet with dew; The lily pale and snowdrop white I '11 twine with flowers of azure hue. In early morn I '11 shepherds seek. And roam with them the sunny glade; At sultry noon with them repose Beneath the leafy poplar's shade. And, when the summer day is o'er, At dewy eve I '11 sink to rest Beneath the shepherd's humble roof, Without a care upon my breast. Then, tell me not of bloody war, Of ghastly fields of carnage red With human blood, by human hands In brutal strife and battle shed! San Francisco, 1878. DEATH SCENE. Give me a drop of barley bree, And sing to me a cheerful song, Ere I shall close my eyes in death And sleep among the dusty throng! You need not mind that ghastly One Who shakes his shadowy dart at me; He can not strike the fatal blow Till I have drunk the barley bree! Another cup! another still! While yet I 'm on the mortal brink — Another cup! and 't is the last That ever I on earth shall drink. Now do your worst, my ghastly friend! Strike when you will the fatal blow — For I 've no more to do on earth And am contented now to go. But, hold! what magic change is this That falls upon my fading sight ? Where stood that ghastly goblin grim I now behold a damsel bright! Upon her cheek the rosebud blooms! With living breath her bosom swells! And on her laughing brow she wears A wreath of blooming immortelles! One hand she reaches out to me, The other points far, far away — To where what seems a fairy-land, Where Hlies bloom and fountains play. Hush— let me hear the silvery voice That falls so sweetly on mine ear — DEATH SCENE. — THE TWO HARPS. 383 With smiling face she bids me come, And nothing I shall have to fear. Adieu, my friends! I can not stay — So I will bid you all good-bye! And, as I 'm going, I will say 'T is not — a — fear — ful— thing — io—die ! San Francisco, 1869. THE TWO HARPS. Two harps I have of magic string. To each of which I sometimes sing; One by a gentle spirit strung While yet the dewy morn was young; The other strung with brazen wire, By demons wrought in hellish fire! I do not like its dev'lish tone, And, (when I can), let it alone. San Francisco, 1879. OLD MAN AND DEATH. OLD MAN. Well met, pale Death! you' ve come at last- And welcome are to me; For, from these old and worn-out bones I 'm anxious to get free. So, cut the thread! and quickly, too,— And with you I will go, And to what^/a^^, I will not ask, Nor do I care to know. But tell me first, if this you will, Why long you 've passed me by. And hurried off the rich and great Who were so loath to die ? DEATH. I but an agent am, old man, In Nature's world of Cause, To carry out what is decreed By her well-ordered laws. The bloated, proud, and grasping ones, Full fed by greed and wrong, Would in the end o'errun the earth Could they their lives prolong; Just as the weeds of fattest growth. Were they allowed to stand. Would choke the useful plants of earth And poison all the land. The farmer tills his fruitful soil. And reaps the ripened wheat. But he roots out the noxious weeds And kills the worthless cheat. \ OLD MAN AND DEATH. 385 Now, I the gardener am of earth, And keep a watchful eye; I cut the rank and filthy weed, But pass the corn-plant by; And let it stand, until its leaves Are withered all and sere. When, with a kind and gentle hand, I reap the ripened ear. In your long life of four-score years, No pompous name you 've won, But still within your humble sphere Some good you 've surely done. For gentle word, or simplest act Done at unselfish cost. Will in some future have effect Which never can be lost. But, now, your mortal task is o'er, And you 've no more to do, And 1, the Reaper, here have come At last to harvest you. So, come along! nor fear to walk With man's last friend on earth. Who is as kind as is the one That watches o'er his birth. I keep a quiet wayside lodge Hard by the Stygian deep. Where, ere you cross the silent stream. You '11 take a pleasant sleep; From which you *ll wake to higher life Beyond the soundless shore. Where your old worn and weary bones Will never pain you more. San Francisco, September 3, 1893. LET ME NOT SLEEP IN THE VALLEY LOW. Oh, let me not sleep In the valley low, Where the earth is damp And the rank weeds grow; Where the cold mist hangs O'er the reedy brake. And the green frog croaks In the dismal lake; No, let me not sleep In the valley low. Nor yet would I sleep In the churchyard old, 'Neath green, mossy stones And dark, crumbling mould; Where the yew-tree grows And the willow waves O'er the bones that rot In forgotten graves; No, I would not sleep In the churchyard old. But make me a bed On the mountain high. Where the lightnings flash When the storm sweeps by; Where the eagle soars From its rocky nest, And the white snow sleeps On the mountain's breast; Yes, make me a bed On the mountain high! Yes, lay me to rest Where the thunder speaks LET ME NO T SLEEP LN THE VALLEY LOW. 387 From the cloud as it sweeps O'er the mountain peaks, And the sun looks bright From an azure sky, When the storm has passed And the cloud gone by; Yes, lay me to rest Where the thunder speaks! Then my spirit will sport On the wings of the blast, And ride on the sunbeam When the tempest has passed; Up! through the bright azure 'T will wing its swift flight, And bathe in the ether At the flood-gates of light; And bathe in the ether At the flood-gates of light! But I could not rest In the valley low. Where the earth is damp And the rank weeds grow. Where the cold mist hangs O'er the reedy brake, And the green frog croaks In the dismal lake; No, I could not rest In the valley low. In the Sierra Madre of Mexico, 1881. BONES AND THE GRAVE-DIGGER/ " Good frend, for Jesu's sake forbeare to digg the dvst encloased here ; BlESE be ye. man YT. spares THES STONES, And cvrst be he yt. moves my bones." —Shakespeare's Epitaph. BONES. Hold! Vandal, hold your savage spade, Nor dig where these old bones are laid, Where loving ones have made their bed And tears of sorrow o'er them shed, And bade the drooping willows weep In silence o'er their quiet sleep! In yon old church a record 's found Which tells that this is holy ground, That by a Christian priest 't was blessed And made a place of holy rest, Where Christian bones in peace may stay Until the resurrection day; Then, Vandal, hold your savage spade. Nor dig where these old bones are laid! DIGGER. All that you say, perhaps, is true, And so I '11 not dispute with you. As I 'm but working by the day To move these rotting bones away. This piece of ground has just been sold, (I do not know for how much gold). And I am ordered now to take Away this rubbish, and thus make * Written on the occasion of removing bodies from the consecrated ground of the Mission Dolores Churchyard, to make room for a street. BONES AND THE GRAVE-DIGGER. 389 A highway fit for thriving trade, By which much money may be made! BONES. If this be true, then well I know That from this spot these bones must go, For ever since Priest Aaron made His golden calf, has Mammon played The ruling lord of all the earth. Wherever man has had his birth — From him who gnaws a cast-off bone To him who sits upon a throne; From him who fruit to market brings To him who deals in sacred things. Of thee a favor I will ask. And, as 't will be an easy task, I hope that this you '11 do for me, Since I as much would do for thee: When from their rest these bones are ta'en, Do not inter them o'er again, But make of them a funeral pyre And give them to consuming fire — And, when they are to ashes burned And to the dust they have returned. Then scatter them upon the wind. That on its wings they then may find A place of rest, where ne'er again They '11 be disturbed by greed of gain! I care not where the dust may sleep — On mountain top or rolling deep, 'Mid summer flowers or Arctic snow, Where tempests howl or breezes blow — So they a quiet spot may reach Where hypocrite may never preach ; Where virtue is not bought and sold. Nor sacred things exchanged for gold. San Francisco, 1889. THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA. From every land and clime they came, The men of Forty-nine; O'er mountain, plain, and stormy sea, To seek the golden mine! From land of rock and mountain pine; From where the palm-tree grows; From burning sands and tropic plains. And from the Arctic snows! From sunny vales and vine-clad hills. And lands of meadows green; From where the low-roofed cottage stands By lakes of silver sheen. The farmer left his growing fields; The merchant left his store; The student left his classic shade, All for the golden shore! The vintner left his clustering vines Amid the Alpine hills; The shepherd left his grazing herds Beside the mountain rills; The father left his little ones; The son his parents old; The bridegroom left his blooming bride. All for the land of gold! And many a picture bright they drew Of happy days in store, When to their homes they would return All rich in golden ore. Where are they now — those gallant men Who then so proudly stood THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA. 391 In mountain wilds, on arid plains, And by the rolling flood ? Go read the records carved in stone Where sleep the silent dead, And they will tell that many there Have found a quiet bed. And some by mountain streams repose, No willows o'er them weep, Nor storied marbles mark the spots Where they in silence sleep. The mountain winds a requiem sing. And coldly fall the snows Upon the lone, deserted graves Where now their bones repose. And some remain; of whom d^ few By thrift have prospered well. As palace grand, and flocks and herds, And fruitful farms will tell! But more, alas! in weary age. With poverty alone, Are left to mourn their early hopes Which have forever flown. Yon aged man, now so forlorn. All worn with want and care. Is one who came in early times With hopes all bright and fair! But now he walks the streets alone. The piteous sight you see. And, with a trembling voice, he asks The stranger's charity. Repulse him not; for many a time The suffering poor he 's fed, And to the houseless stranger given A shelter and a bed. 392 THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA, Oh, ye who came in later days, When cities great had grown, Remember that you 're reaping now Where those brave men have sown! They broke the stubborn glebe, and cleared The thorny brier away, And ploughed the virgin soil where waves The golden grain to-day! Then give to them the justice due, Although they sadly stand Without a roof to shelter them. And not a rood of land. Aye, do them reverence — for to them Ye owe a lasting debt, Which generous hearts and manly souls Will surely not forget! Reproach them not, although they failed In prosperous times to ride Into a sunny harbor snug Upon a flowing tide. A few more circling years will pass. And you will see no more A man who came in Forty-nine Unto the golden shore. San Francisco, 1869. A LOS MEJICANOS DE CALIFORNIA. i Do estan, Mejicanos, los hombres honrosos, De nombres celebrados, y memorias gloriosas, Que en tiempos antiguos 6. la costa venieron, Y con brazos fuertes el desierto conquistaron ? i Los Moncadas' y Serras', Vallejos' y Carrillos', Los Guerras' y Argiiellos', Peraltas' y Estudillos', Los Neves' y Pages', Galindos' y Rosales', Los Castros' y Avilas', Romeros' y Morales' ? Duermen en polvo en los desiertos lugares, En donde se hallaban sus dichosos hogares; Y la noche solita, en gotas de rocio Llora sobre sus suenos en el suelo tan frio. i Do estan los hijos, d ellos nacidos, Los hombres robustos y doncellas queridas ? Las aves de la noche ora labran sus nidos En las tristes ruinas do fueron nacidos. ^ Y do estan las fiestas que ellos gozaban, Las voces de amores que ellos cantaban ? Como suenos de la noche, para siempre pasadas, Y en triste silencio para siempre calladas. Si, para siempre pasados son los tiempos dichosos, Con sus dias alegres, y costumbres hermosos; De su beldad y gozos, y dulces amores. No se quedan ahora sino tristes memorias. Aunque yo soy de una raza estraiia, Y no corre mis venas el sangre de Espafia, No puedo dejar de honrar d los hombres Que dejaron al pais sus obras y nombres. Honrad! entonces, i los hombres honrosos, De nombres celebrados, y memorias gloriosas, Que en tiempos antiguos i la costa venieron, Y con brazos fuertes el desierto conquistaron. San Francisco, Ano 1886. THE IMMORTAL SPIRIT. The Immortal Spirit, a spark stricken from the Rock of Eternal Exist- ence, will never perish ! The flame of the spirit can never be quenched, Though its Hght for a time be obscured; Since its source is the fountain of Being Divine, Its life is forever assured! In the sensual garb in which it is clothed On its journey through the Valleys of Earth, 'Mid the wants and the passions the body begets, It forgets the bright land of its birth. But the shadows that darken the chambers of night Are scattered by the light of the morn, And the darkness that clouds the spirit on earth Disappears when anew it is born. Then judge not as lost the low and depraved; The children of Darkness and Sin; Had their lots been brighter when cast upon earth, Fair beings of beauty they'd been. One drop of the ocean is a part of the whole, Alike in its being and kind; And a spark that is stricken from the Infinite Source, Is a part of the Infinite Mind! As the roses that bloom uncultured and wild Improve, when in gardens they 're placed, — And the fruits of the forest, so bitter and sour, When cultured, are sweet to the taste, — So the being that 's born in darkness and sin And knows but of sensual desire. By kindness and care, in time may be led To the bright and the good to aspire! THE IMMORTAL SPIRIT. 395 As the light that is smouldering by life-giving breath May be waked to brightness again, — So the soul may be led to seek for the Light That long in the darkness has lain. Then, ever speak kindly to poor, erring ones, The children of Discord and Wrong, And teach them to look to the bright, shining world To which their pure spirits belong. The laurels that are won on the red field of Mars Are stained with a dark, crimson dye, And the songs that are sung in the warrior's praise Are burthened with the orphan's sigh; And the gold that is gathered by the miser's care And coined from the blood of the poor. Will cling to his heart in a red, burning chain, When he can use his treasure no more. But he who by love and charity leads A soul from darkness to light, Will be crowned with flowers, which freshly will bloom, When the sun no longer is bright! Tucson, Arizona, 1884. THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE: A LESSON OF LIFE. AGRA, a recluse of the Indian mountains. ALKAK, a young Indian Prince, in search of knowledge. AGRA. What seeks the prince at Agra's mountain cave ? Art weary of the nautch-girl's song and dance; Does Pleasure's voice no longer charm the ear, And forms of beauty please no more the eye, That now Prince Alkar seeks the rocky cave Where Agra dwells 'mid Nature's solitude ? ALKAR. I 've come to Agra's cave in search of truth! Of knowledge of my mysterious being, And what may be the end of my existence. I 've read the sacred books; they tell me nought — I 've looked upon the glorious sun by day — The moon, and ever-beaming stars by night! They move in silence through the soundless deep, But tell me nought of what I seek to know. I 've seen the lightning smite the gnarled oak. And slay the infant on its mother's breast; I 've seen the earthquake rend the rugged mountain, And make the fruitful vale a barren waste; I 've seen the sea engulf the stately bark, When lashed to fury by the angry storm; I 've seen gaunt Famine strew the earth with bones, And spotted Pestilence mark its loathsome track With festering human' flesh! THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. 397 These tell of nought But senseless force and blind destructive power. I 've seen red-handed Murder walk the earth; The strong oppress the weak, and cruel War, With fire and sword destroy the Beautiful, And leave fair Nature's face a blackened waste! All these tell but of cruel thirst for blood — They fill my soul with horror and disgust, And make me doubt the wisdom of creation. AGRA. Desire to know, is the first step to wisdom ; This thou now hast taken! List to Agra's words. And with patience hear all that he can teach Of the mysterious laws of life and being. Look to the East and tell me what thou seest. ALKAR. A snow-clad mountain peak that rises high Into the clear ether; around its base The darkness gathers, while on its summit The golden sunbeams linger still! AGRA. Behold in this an emblem of the path That leads to knowledge! — Mind is progressive; The higher it ascends the scale of being, The clearer its far-reaching glance becomes; Low in the valley all is mist and darkness, While on the lofty mountain peak the sunbeams Pour a flood of living light and glory. Nor Mind alone this beauteous law obeys — All forms material, in Nature's boundless realms. As in the scale of being they ascend. Become more beautiful; the golden cloud That floats upon the far-ofl" azure deep, Sprang from the stagnant pool; the butterfly That sports on painted wing from flower to flower, 398 THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. Was yesterday a foul, unsightly worm! All forms material are but transient things — The snowflake melts beneath the morning sun; The floweret fades before the autumn's breath, And rock-ribbed mountains crumble into dust From which the fruitful summer harvest springs; And this, creation is; 'tis birth! 'tis life! And 't is death — which nought but transition is. Thus, Beauty from Corruption springs, and Life Is born of Darkness and Decay. ALKAR. From the insensate dust of former life I know that Life and Beauty spring anew — The seed decays, and from it springs the plant; The beast is born, and to the dust returns; Both plant and beast produce their kind, and die, And ne'er again upon the earth are seen; And man! with all his powers of mind, hke them, Is born; like them, he lives ; like them, he dies, And, like them, to insensate dust returns. What better then is his unhappy lot Than that of vilest worm that crawls the earth, Or summer insect, in the morning born, To perish ere the evening sun has set ? AGRA. All forms their circles of existence have — From the ungainly root ascends the stem; The graceful branches spring from this, and these Are clothed with emerald leaves and fragrant flowers Which contain the germs of new creations. No higher can the //««/ ascend in being; It dies, and to its mother earth returns. The faithful dog Looks to his master as his only god. And is supremely happy in his smile; Nor longs for any higher state of being! THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. 399 The insect sports its little life away Amid the flowers of summer; nor needs, nor dreams Of any brighter future! These fill the measure of their sensuous lives, And die, and to insensate dust return; And man! he, like the speechless brute, is born; Like it, his mortal form decays and dies. And to the all-forgetting dust returns; But though his mortal form returns to dust, And never more upon the earth is seen. The spark immortal ^^XW all brightly glows; As quenchless as Eternal Being is! That this is so, great Nature's voice proclaims Through all the infinite realms of being — From blade of grass to tallest mountain pine; From smallest mote that in the sunbeam floats To mightiest orb that lights the midnight sky; From tiniest insect to the loftiest mind That dwells in highest realms of being. Why ever seeks the restless mind of man For that which lies beyond its highest reach ? Why does the gray-haired sage in anguish toil For knowledge, and die from want with thirst unquenched? Why does Ambition seek to rule the world ? Why does the miser toil for needless gold? And why does bitter Anguish seek relief In the forgetful cup and madd'ning bowl ? These are but struggles of the Immortal Mind For that which ne'er can be obtained on earth; But fruitless efforts to break the prison bars In which 'tis chained an exile from its home. This transient life on earth is but probation. In which, by patient toil, the soul 's prepared For entrance to a higher state of being; And suffering needful is, to purge the soul From sensual dross, as fire refines the gold. 400 THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. ALKAR. The words of Agra fall on Alkar's ear Like sweetest music, and refresh his soul As do soft summer showers the thirsty earth; But tell me, hoary sage, if this thou canst: What occupies the soul, when it has reached The shadowy realms of that mysterious land ? Do dreamy languor and eternal rest Fall on the soul in that bright land of beauty ? AGRA. There is, my son, " No royal road to knowledge " — From patient search and toil, bright wisdom springs; The mind of man must ever active be. And before it ever lies an unknown future: Ambition seeks for that which it has not; The student toils for what he does not know; And Hope dwells ever in an unknown land! Go sound the depths of Nature's darkest caves, And soar aloft to realms of purest light! Count all the orbs that gem the brow of night! Explain the laws that guide them, and that give Each material atom its appointed place In the mighty circle of creation — Grasp, if thou canst, the Infinite Universe ! This none but the Infinite Mind can do; For the All-Etnbracing must all things know ! Thus, to the finite mind, there ever is, And must forever be, an unknown future, Until it reach Nirvana, the abode Where Brahma dwells. ALKAR. If this be so, why come not those who dwell In that bright land beyond the pass of shadows To visit those who linger still in Time, And cheer them in this vale of tears, with hope Of brighter things than e'er are seen on earth ? THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. 401 AGRA. The gilded butterfly no converse holds Directly with the sleeping chrysalis, Though from the worm the butterfly is born; Yet still, between the worm and butterfly, While one in an unconscious torpor sleeps, And one sports gayly on the summer breeze. There is a sympathetic bond of union. And thus the beings who have passed frora earth, And dwell amid the light of brighter worlds, May hold communion (though unseen) with those Who linger still upon the shores of Time — The soul, when it ascends above the sphere Of sensual life, communion holds with those Who dwell amid the higher realms of being, From whence comes Inspiration's light to earth — Bright Inspiration lights its burning torch At the living flame that forever beams From the pinnacle of Wisdom's temple. While Analysis ever toils with pain Within the shadow of its lofty dome! ALKAR. Do those who pass the shadowy bounds of Time Remember still the things they did on earth, And meet with those they knew and loved in life ? AGRA. Immortal memory never dies, but lives Forever in the highest realms of being. And like seeks like through all the universe; And those who loved on earth may meet again Beyond the gloomy vale where Yama dwells! ALKAR. A beauteous flower once bloomed by Alkar's side — 'T was early blighted by untimely frost, Since when no light has beamed upon his soul. 402 THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE, Does th?it sweet flower still for Alkar bloom Beyond the reach of Yama's chilling breath ? AGRA. The fairest flower that blooms in Paradise, Was nurtured once by earthly hands and tears. By Alkar's side I see a maiden young, With face of wondrous beauty; on her brow She wears a wreath of roses, and in her hand A lily bears, which she to Alkar gives! Does Alkar know who this fair being is ? ALKAR. 'T is the sweet flower which once for Alkar bloomed^ And which stern Yama rudely plucked while yet Upon its breast the dews of morning lay. Why cannot Alkar this bright vision see ? AGRA. He cannot see the gentle breeze that fans The morning's brow and lulls the eve to rest; The rose's breath his vision cannot catch; The bolt that rends the rugged oak to him Is viewless as the form of fleeting thought; Yet these material are, as are the rocks Of which yon towering mount is formed, and clouds That hang around its lofty peaks! Nor can his vision catch the forms ethereal Of those who dwell in higher realms than earth; Nor hear can his dull ear the voices sweet That wake the echoes of that land of beauty! Yet, these bright beings have material forms Which they can someiimes show to mortal sight,. And voices sweet, which on an earthly ear May sometimes fall in tones of sweetest music. The one that Alkar loved and sadly lost In Yama's chilling vale, now sings to him In sweetest notes a gentle song of love; Her voice is soft, and sweeter far than sound THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. 403 Of sleeping harp by summer breezes waked! List the song of love she sings to Alkar: For Alkar I wait By the bright, silver stream, Where the white lily blooms In the sun's golden beam; Where the white lily blooms In the sun's golden beam, — For Alkar I wait By the bright, silver stream! For Alkar I wait Where the birds ever sing. Where autumn ne'er comes, Nor winter is seen; Where the white lily blooms In the sun's golden beam, — For Alkar I wait By the bright, silver stream ! ALKAR. The words are sweeter far to Alkar's ear Than sound of harp or voice of softest lute; But how does Agra's eye this vision see. And Agra's ear this gentle music hear, — While Alkar's longing eye beholds it not, And Alkar's listening ear no music hears ? AGRA. For three-score years and ten has Agra dwelt Alone amid these mountain solitudes — His drink has been the crystal stream; his food The simple herb, with milk of mountain goat; No flesh of slaughtered beast has fouled his lips, Nor drop of deadly drink has fired his blood; Communion has he held with Nature's laws — As seen in azure sky and golden cloud. In blooming flower and fading autumn leaf. In sun, and moon, and shining star, and all 404 THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. The hosts that wander through the soundless deep! As heard when loud the tempest pipes its notes And softly sings the summer evening breeze! When the loud thunder shakes the trembling earth; When the merry skylark greets the dewy morn, And when the cricket chirps its evening song! The mind, thus raised above the sensual plane, May sometimes converse hold with those who dwell In that bright land where Yama has no power; And thus can Agra now communion hold With those who dwell in that bright land of beauty. ALKAR. How may Alkar best himself prepare to meet His lost Alkana in that sweet land of love. And to hold converse with the beings bright Who dwell beneath its ever-beaming skies, And gather blooming flowers and golden fruits In fields where falls no bitter, biting frost, And where no blighting storms are felt ? AGRA. When Alkar leaves this life at Yama's call, His worn-out body to the earth returns, To form, perchance, a flower, or tree, or beast; While that which we call soul, or mind, or spirit, Goes to the place for which 'tis best prepared, In strict obedience to that moral law Which forces like its kindred like to seek, Through all the infinite realms of Nature. Then, if Alkar hopes, when Yama calls him hence, To meet Alkana in that land of beauty. To hear the songs that thrill its emerald plains And wake the echoes of its purple hills, Let him with earnest patience seek the Good! Avoid as death all envy, pride, and hate; Drive malice from his soul, nor cherish aught That may defile the sweet face of Beauty; THE HERMIT AND THE PRINCE. 405 Speak kindly to the wretched, broken-hearted, Nor crush with cruel words poor erring ones; Plant in the garden of his soul sweet flowers Of beauty, and on them breathe the breath of love! Let gentle Charity his companion be. And ever heed sweet Pity's pleading voice — So, when the chilling storms of life are o'er, And Yama calls him to the beauteous land. Then shall he meet his loved and lost Alkana, With other happy kindred ones, who have, Like him, themselves a dwelling bright prepared Amid the blooming bowers of Paradise! ALKAR. Thanks, reverend sage! thy lesson Alkar hears; No more he '11 shed the bitter, hopeless tear, O'er withered flowers and perished earthly hopes; But, will with patience bear the ills of life. With cheering hope that, when the night is o'er, A brighter day for him will surely dawn Beyond the chilling vale where Yama dwells. AGRA. And now, my son, 'tis time to seek repose; To-morrow, we '11 again pursue the path That leads to knowledge! Santa Catalina Mountains, Arizona, 1882. DRIFTING. 1 DREAMED I had hcaved my anchor apeak; That I was drifting away on an ebbing tide; That I was drifting, drifting, drifting away — That I was drifting away on an ocean wide ! No pilot I needed; the current it bore me Through the mists that hung o'er the stormless sea, Whose dark, rolHng waves no echoes return As they break on the shores of Eternity. From the dim, misty shore, fast fading from view, A low, murmuring sound fell faint on my ear; I heard the harsh echoes of discord and strife. The sweet song of Hope, and the wail of Despair! I The wild echoes ceased — the sounds died away— The shores I had left were lost to my sight; But yet, o'er the deep I still drifted on 'Mid the silence of death and the blackness of night. In soft slumber I sank to a dreamless repose; No life coursed my veins, nor thrilled in my breast; The past was forgot — for the Angel of Death In a Lethean sleep had laid me to rest. From my slumber I woke! and saw in the East The soft, rosy tints of a bright, vernal morn; And I knew by the joy that thrilled in my soul, That from my past life a new being was born! San Francisco, 1885. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN A STUDENT OF NATURE AND SAGES OF ANTIQUITY. From childhood, Life, however expressed through the myriad forms in Nature, has, in all places and under all circumstances, been the absorbing thought of my mind. While still a youth, (as far back as sixty years), I found it impossible to harmonize the Biblical account of Creation— of the fall and redemption of man — as interpreted by theological creeds, with the universal revealings of Nature. I was therefore compelled, in justice to an honest conviction, to discard the same as an absolute rule of faith and conduct; without, how- ever, losing any respect therefor as an ancient record of the past, teach- ing sublime truths, and containing grand poetical conceptions clothed in the language of Oriental allegory; and, too, without in any degree losing my reverence, or respect, for the character of the Reformer of Nazareth, or for the simple truths He taught his humble followers while wandering o'er the plains of Judea. The thoughts expressed in the following Conversations are the honest offspring of patient observations of the laws of Nature, together with the intuitive convictions of my own mind; and, as such, I publish them, unso- licitous as to what effect they may have upon myself. I have almost reached the limit of earthly existence,— am too old to desire notoriety,— and there- fore can have no other object in giving them to mankind than for the pro- motion of what 1 believe to be the truth, and for the progressive advance- ment of humanity. As I have endeavored to live a blameless life, I shall leave the world without fear and without regret. These Conversations were written under peculiar circumstances, the history of which will be published at some future time. RuFUS C. Hopkins. San Francisco, April 22, 1894. 4o8 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. CONVERSATION I. STUDENT AND PYTHAGORAS. STUDENT. Come, ancient sage of Samos, and wisdom teach To one who with earnest toil for knowledge seeks! PYTHAGORAS. Who calls Pythagoras from celestial realms, Where, by the light of brighter spheres than earth, He still advances in the path he trod In search of truth beneath the Grecian skies ? STUDENT. A patient student in the search of truth. Who seeks to learn the history of this earth— From whence it sprang, with all that it inhabit. PYTHAGORAS. This rolling orb, which as an atom floats In the wide ocean of infinite space. Was born of Nature's self-engendering womb, In strict obedience to Eternal Law, Which is the soul of all material forms — From dewdrop trembling on the rose's breast, To ocean heaving to the silver moon! From far beyond where cold Uranus rolls And distant Neptune's still more wintry sphere. Once reached the limits of yon solar orb, Whose disk, now lessened to a burning spot, So brightly glows upon the azure vault. The fiery womb of that revolving orb From time to time gave birth to all the worlds That mark the days and years of solar time; From ancient Neptune, now with aeons hoary, To youngest planet on the solar skirts. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 409 And thus was born the earth that you inhabit; But not, like Venus, from the foamy sea In radiant beauty clothed, — a flaming orb. From out the burning solar womb it sprang, In lurid lightnings clothed, with thunders charged, And glowing with a fierce, intrinsic heat. ^ons on Nature's dial were recorded. As measured by the years of solar time, Ere abating heat condensed the fiery vapor Into liquid form, and thus foundation laid For life organic, which should in time appear — But still internal fires in fury raged; Wild tempests swept the restless, boiling seas; Volcanic lightnings lit the brow of night; Reverberate thunders shook the trembling orb, While sulphurous clouds shut out the solar beams And rained incessant torrents on the thermal seas. Time grew hoary with the passing ages, But brought not quiet to the infant earth, Nor stilled the elemental war; for still The clouds were reddened by volcanic fires; The forked lightnings gleamed; muttering thunders Echoed through the cloudy vault, and earthquakes Rent the quivering orb! At length the circling ages brought repose; Vindictive storms no longer swept the earth; The lightning's flash no longer constant was, And lower burned the red volcanic fires. To rumblings low had sunk the thunder's voice; With rugged peak and silent arid plain The rent and scarred earth lay bare and ragged ; Hideous monsters swam the thermal seas, But no silvery lake within the valley slept. Nor dewdrop glittered in the beams of morn! Time grew weary with the count of aeons, Ere Nature's solvents and mechanic force Reduced to fertile soil the flinty rock ; 4IO IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Ere azure skies bent o'er the infant earth; Ere drooping willow hung o'er mossy stream; Ere plant was watered by the crystal shower, Or meadow green was wet with morning dew. From inorganic springs organic life — The ancient seas produced primeval life, Ere law-engendering from the earth produced The tree and plant, which of their kind gave birth To flower and fruit, which conscious Hfe sustains; And when, in time, these things appeared on earth, The rosy dawn was bright; the beast at noon Sought the refreshing shade; the golden cloud Hung softly o'er the setting sun; reptiles Crawled in reedy brakes, and birds sang sweetly In the morning air. Next in the scale of conscious being came The antetype of man; a thing prophetic Of a higher race to come; for, ever In the ascending scale, the lower form Foretells the coming higher; and this is so Through all the realms of being, and therefore then, In Wisdom's eyes, there 's nothing great nor small; All their appointed places strictly fill — The dark, ungainly root supports the flower; Foundation-stones sustain the lofty dome; And, but for organs that perform for man The lowest office, the light of Reason's lamp Could ne'er illume the palace of his soul. ^ons of ages passed, and myriad races Of organic beings came and died on earth, Ere on the wrecks of lost and perished worlds Appeared primeval man, latest born of earth. And with a reasoning mind that made him lord Of all her elder offspring! Man, from the general law, is not exempt; As all creation is, he is progressive — Long had he dwelt on earth ere Reason's light IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 411 Illumed his mind — he roamed earth's ancient woods; His dwelling was the rocky cave; his food The sylvan fruits uncultured by his hand, And flesh of bird and beast he could entrap; His naked limbs were chilled by wintry winds And scorched by the burning sun of summer. Taught by his needs, he learned to use his hands — With sapling bent, and branches wove, he made A shelter rude from summer's heat and winter's cold; By cunning taught, he learned to make the bow With which to slay for food the bird and beast. To him the sun was a benignant power That gave him light, and heat, and summer fruit; The lightning was a demon's fiery glance. And thunder was the speech of angry gods. The powers of Nature thus to him became Celestial beings, or infernal gods, To whom he bowed with superstitious awe; And thus began religious worship. By slow degrees, within his sluggish mind Was first perception of the useful waked — From rocky cave and cliff he learned design; With rugged stone he reared a dwelling rude; From flinty rock he wrought the arrow-head And point of spear as weapons of defence; He learned to sow and reap, and pleasure sought In social life; and thus began the nations. The light of Beauty dawned upon his soul — He watched the play of light on Nature's face. And his first lesson as an artist took! From stately palm and willow drooping low. His first perception came of graceful form; From arching branches in the forest aisles, And saplings bent to form his summer hut. Was born the stately dome of aftertimes. Advancing further in mechanic skill. He reared more graceful and enduring works — 412 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. From forest oak, which as a strong man stands, Supporting columns sprang; Projecting beams In time were into graceful brackets carved; And thus commenced the Greek entablature. From curling vine, and flower, and leaf, were born Volute Ionic, and Corinthian order. The ancient shepherd, as he watched his flocks In lands now sunk beneath the rolling seas, With wonder saw the changing moon and stars, Whose late or early rise and setting marked The seasons, and by them he measured time. And to them ascribed mysterious power And influence o'er the lives and fate of man! And early thus commenced that science grand, Which led the searching mind of man to roam Through astronomic fields, and him has taught To measure circle and elliptic curve, Described by flaming meteor in its circle Of an hundred centuries! Long ere inventive man had learned to chain His fleeting thoughts by words on parchment writ, The rocky tomb was reared to mark the spot Where heroes, kings, and mighty warriors slept; And thus, before historic pen was used, The sculptor wrought upon the warrior's tomb The record of his bold and daring deeds, Hoping thus to make his name immortal. By slow degrees in the ascending scale, Man's ever-active mind became inventive — What, with his naked hands, he could not move, He found could be effected by the lever; And this to knowledge led of other powers And force mechanic, by the use of which He raised the ponderous stones which now are found In the colossal works of ancient times. In architecture ne'er was yet surpassed Ionic grandeur and Corinthian grace; IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 413 From the insensate marble Phidias waked The sleeping Graces; and Apelles on The glowing canvas left a name immortal! Archimedes and Euclid old have left In geometric and mechanic lore Bold landmarks on the shores of Time! But not till later ages did Science bright, With analytic key, unlock the door Of Nature's inner temple, and with flaming torch Bid man explore its dark, mysterious caves — Before the beaming glance of her bright eye. Dark Superstition fled to deeper caves; And backward rolled the gloomy clouds of night, Which long had hung o'er man's progressive mind. With magic wand she touched the lightning's wing! It harmless played around her beaming brow, And to her will became a passive slave. In captive-chains she bound the wildest force, And in darkest realms the subtlest essence sought. And them her patient, drudging servants made. And thus the mighty gods of ancient times Became the slaves of man in later years ! The winged light she caught, and bade it tell The secrets of the distant home it left An hundred ages ere man appeared on earth — With microscopic glance she scanned the mote, And in it saw the wreck of ruined worlds; And with far-reaching sight she has explored The realms of space, measured the rolling orb. And told the number of its days and years! And thus man, from a rude and savage state, Has progress made in intellectual being. STUDENT. Thanks, reverend sage, for this instructive lesson; From thee, again, I '11 higher knowledge seek Of things I much desire to know. Santa Catalina Mountains, Arizona, 1882. 414 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. CONVERSATION II. STUDENT AND PYTHAGORAS. STUDENT. From his bright dwelHng in the higher spheres, Will now the Samian sage impart to me Such further knowledge of the laws of life As may be understood by one of earth ? PYTHAGORAS. The sensual clouds that shroud the soul of man In his transient, rudimental life on earth, Are often pierced by rays of beaming light From the bright world of intellectual being; But, so distorted are the rays of light By the gross media through which they pass, That many pictures false created are, And many errors are by man committed. E'en in his honest, patient search for truth. Already hast thou seen how this green earth From Nature's all-engendering womb was born; That in its infant age no azure sky Hung o'er the silver lake and grassy plain; Nor browsing herd the meadow roamed; nor bird Sang sweetly in the leafy grove; nor flower Its fragrance breathed upon the summer air, — An orb it was, with rolling thunders charged. In forked lightnings clothed, and rent and scorched By heaving earthquakes and by fiery storms. Creative laws are but the laws of change, And they progressive are; the lower form Precedes, and ever, by unerring sign, Predicts the coming higher; and this is so In all organic life — from moss and lichen To highest form of plant; from lowest mollusk To highest type of upright human form. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 415 In the creative order, the mineral On earth was formed in Nature's lab'ratory Long ere organic Hfe was seen thereon ; And this, in time, appeared in form of plant And tree, and bird and beast, and last in man, The crowning product of this earthly sphere! Behold how Nature in progressive order Into being calls all sensuous life on earth: A creature first was formed, so low in type. And in organic structure simply rude, 'YhdX plant it more than sensuous being seemed. This lower order step by step progressed. Until more perfect forms were reached, and these Of higher forms of being still foretold. The mollusk races dwelt in ancient seas Long ages ere the myriad finny tribes Swam the silver lake, or in sportive play Gambolled in oceans blue that mirrored back The bright azure of the vaulted heavens. Next in creative order, a creature came By Nature formed to swim the lake and sea As cleaves the bird the ambient air; and this Predictive was of bird with plumage bright And voice of dulcet note, which should in time Awake the earth with sylvan melody! But many intermediate steps are found Between the finny tribes of ocean blue And the gay songsters of the vernal grove — The fin of fish foretold the wing of bird. And foot was formed to tread the rolling deep Ere horny hoof was made to walk the earth, Or claw of beast, to rend the captive prey; And hideous monsters intermediate came Between the finny tribes and quadrumana; All these foretold a huge, amphibious race, That slept in dismal swamps and reedy brakes, And swam dark, stagnant pools in search of food. 4i6 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. And these, by clear, suggestive signs, foretold The quadrumanous race, with graceful limb To tread the grassy earth, or climb the tree In search of food, or for protection seek; And with the quadrumana that tread the earth. Came the feathered songsters of the vernal grove, Which had by finny tribes predicted been. Next in the order came a higher form, With limb to stand erect, and hand to pluck The ripened fruit, and gather boughs to make A shelter from summer suns and wintry storms. And last in the progressive order, came The race of man! with graceful, upright form; With lofty, intellectual brow; with eye Of beaming light, and hand of cunning form, Long predicted' by anterior races. STUDENT. Does then Pythagoras teach that, from the lower Were evolved the higher forms in Nature ? That, by culture and improvement, the lower May in time become the higher ? PYTHAGORAS. Hadst thou a sight of all-embracing range. With microscopic glance to scan the least. And macroscopic power to comprehend The greatest in Nature's universe of matter. Then couldst thou see the harmonious order In which are placed material forms on earth; The perfect chain from things of lowest type To highest form of life organic; of which. Each link is found in its appointed place; The lowest bound to gross, material form, — The highest lost in vast infinitude, Far, far beyond the ken of finite sight! Each link, more bright becoming in the ascent Toward the realm of Love and Beauty. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 417 In this grand chain, each link is marked by being Which to its state belongs; and which, although It cannot reach a higher link, foretells Of higher links which to that chain belong. This all Nature teaches, where'er you look — Behold the human hand of cunning form! Long ere the race of man was seen on earth, That graceful, cunning hand had been foretold By foot of savage beast, with fingers four, And thumb of rudimental form. The moUusk race, by picture clearly wrought Within its soft and boneless form, foretells The coming vertebra of form complex. And thus is linked the lower to the higher Through all the organic realms of Nature, All forming one grand, harmonious whole — From dark foundation-stone to turret lost In regions of celestial beauty! And this is Nature's temple, whose lofty arches Ever echo to the sounding anthem Which in harmonious numbers upward rolls From Creation's countless forms of being — From cricket chirping on the cottage hearth. To hymn of praise by an archangel sung! From trembling chord of music's softest note, To the fierce howling of the angry storm! From atom floating on the evening breeze, To mightiest orb that lights the realms of space! All language used by man too feeble is To paint the pictures by the mind conceived; No written word, by poet ever penned. Nor vocal sound, by voice of sweetest note, Nor picture bright, in rainbow colors wrought By highest art, can give the form exact Of fleeting Thought; nor with precision clear, Explain the laws of intellectual being; 4i8 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Hence, in the interchange of human thought, Misunderstandings oft arise. Creation never is a special act ; But the result of ever-constant laws Which shape and govern all material forms, From the organic life of lowest grade To that of highest intellectual being. As has been shown, creation is progressive — In the mighty circle of existence. Each point by its conditions is controlled; And whene'er these conditions changed are, The form of being is compelled to change. And hence, creation is nought but change of form. When in progressive life this earth had reached A point where organic being was required, In prompt obedience to imperious law It straight appeared in lowest form of life; This form its period of existence had. While the conditions of its birth remained — When these had ceased, that form of being passed away And left no record save in mountain rock. O'er which once rolled the ancient seas of earth. And thus have come and gone the countless races Which, in obedience to creative law, Have formed the chain of being on your earth — From lowest link to intellectual man; Remains of which are found on mountain top, In ocean depths, on burning arid plain, 'Mid Arctic snows, in shady tropic groves, And in the fruitful vale and meadow green They form the soil from which the harvest springs! STUDENT. But tell me, ancient sage, why do we find That many early races still exist In common with earth's present habitants ? ii IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 419 PYTHAGORAS. Conditions of their birth existing still In common with others of a higher order, These primal beings still are found on earth Side by side with beings of a higher form. Ere man had lived, the ape was found on earth, And still upon it dwells with lordly man; Conditions of his life existing still — When these have ceased, he too will disappear, Like other races that have dwelt on earth And left no record save in silent rock. This is the order of Creative Law, By which all forms of matter are controlled. And all organic being called to life; Each atom taking its appointed place, And every sensuous being its allotted part In the great Drama of the Universe, STUDENT. As the radiant beams of rising morn Dispel the curtaining clouds of gloomy night, So have the teachings of the Samian sage Illumed a mind in earnest search of truth; But more I seek to know; still deeper yet Would I sound the mysteries of creation; The laws of generation I would learn, And how they work to bring to life and being The vv'ondrous panorama of existence! This, I with deep and earnest reverence seek, To satisfy an ever-craving thirst. PYTHAGORAS. The mind of man for knowledge ever seeks Because it is a birthright, by it received From that bright source from whence its being sprang; Therefore, as the vapor sunward rises, The human mind perforce for knowledge seeks, And to it there is no forbidden ground — Where'er its wings have strength to bear its flight. It has a right to soar in search of truth. 420 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. No being in the universe can write The whole history of its own existence — The dewdrop cannot tell how it was formed; The flower explain the law that gave it birth; The Finite give the history of its being, Nor the Infinite tell from whence it sprang! The laws of Nature act in dual force In the creation of material forms; And this is so through all the realms of Nature — From mineral, sleeping in the deepest mine. To life organic of the highest form. These dual forces, in all creations The actors are; they meet to form the plant. To shape the dewdrop, and the mightiest orb That lights the solemn, soundless depths of space! They gild the morning cloud, and give the rose Its blushing hue! they guide the winged light, Direct the storm, and to the evening breeze Give its low-whispering voice! Creators are Of every living form — from smallest gnat, Whose life is measured by a summer's day, To godlike man, upon whose lofty brow Immortal Reason grandly sits enthroned! No lone creator of material forms Is ever found in Nature's realm of being — Where'er creation is, companionship Is ever found. Hadst thou a spirit's vision, unobscured By the gross medium of thine earthly form, Then the action of these dual forces Thou couldst see in the birth and growth of plants. The highest product of the plant is fruit; When it has yielded this, with seed (the germ Of a new and like existence), it dies — And to the bosom of the earth returns To mingle with its primal elements. And thus completes the circle of its life. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 421 The higher we ascend the scale of being, The more complex becomes organic structure, And wider is the circle of existence. As these forces the humble plant produce, — By dual action they into being bring The countless forms of lower sensuous life. Ascending higher in the scale of being. We reach the intellectual, moral realm, Where still this dual action we behold In Creation's loftiest work on earth, — Construction of a transient home for man! He who, of all the sons of earth, alone Has power, in thought, to reach the realm of Cause, And ever keep the chain of tnemory bright. STUDENT. Are the creations, then, of earthly forms, Of all that we behold — of plant and flower, Of bird and beast, and last, of lordly man, — Nought but result of ever-constant laws Which act in dual forms in their creation ? PYTHAGORAS. In all creations e'er beheld on earth. From that of lowest form material to that Of highest type of living, sensuous being. These dual forces are the constant means By which all forms material are created. Behold the action of these dual laws In the ever-changing forms of matter: Two colors blend, and lo! a third is born; Two chemic elements together wed, — Each one, when by itself, all harmless is, But their offspring is a deadly poison. A passive flower, in female beauty blooms, — In prompt obedience to creative law, A wooing breeze, upon its gentle wings, 422 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Bears to the attracting, passive flower Tile principle prolific, — and behold! The fruit is born. Two little songsters of the grove, impelled By Nature's all-imperious laws, construct A cunning cradle for the new creations Which they with love and patience long await! With new and strange delight the bosom thrills, When, with harmonious touch, the dual chords Are waked by Nature's whispering voice of love, And leaps the heart with joy at the first sound That in the bosom wakes a mother's love! And this is Nature's marriage, and these the laws Creative that rule the boundless realms of being. In all the realms below organic life, These laws but as recipric forces act; Attracting and repelling, until all In harmonious order is arranged. The higher we ascend the scale of being, The more distinctly marked these forces are: The flower its bosom turns towards the light. And yearning waits the coming of its mate. But weeps not when the bridegroom cometh not; The ewe, bereaved, bewails her lambkin lost. And for a time will not be comforted, — But, soon forgetful, — consolation finds. And, with deep affection, the parent bird Her unfledged offspring guards, and mourns for them When rudely torn from her. But not until Is reached the realm of intellectual being, Do we meet the spirit bright of Love Divine In all its pure and radiant beauty; Which, in harmonious order, all things keeps — From highest realms of light — to Nature's caves Of deepest darkness. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 423 Behold with reverence these mysterious laws Which rule the realms of universal being; Which, in the lowest, are but forces blind That by attraction and repulsion act; Not manifesting aught of moral sense, But which, in the higher realms of being, Become bright spirits of Creative Love! Whene'er these duals in sweet concord meet, Creation's temple beams with rosy light, And Nature's face is wreathed in smiles of love! But when harsh discord breaks these dual chords, Dark shadows then becloud her beauteous face As she beholds her altars thus defiled. STUDENT. Thanks, sage of Samos! now have I something learned Of the operation of creative laws; Again from thee I '11 further knowledge seek. Tucson, Arizona, 1883. 424 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. CONVERSATION III. STUDENT AND PYTHAGORAS. STUDENT. Now tell me, ancient sage, when wrapped in sleep, Whence come the forms so weird, as seen in dreams, That gather round the midnight couch of man ? Are they disjointed fragments of the past, Or glimpses of another land than earth, Which the ever-wakeful mind may sometimes catch While wrapped in sleep the unconscious body lies ? PYTHAGORAS. Of Death sweet Sleep the gentle sister is — All life organic has its times of rest; At set of sun, the flow' ret folds its leaves And seeks in dewy sleep refreshing rest; The bird finds shelter in its leafy home, And weary man in slumber seeks repose. Whene'er the senses are in slumber locked. The body, in a certain sense, is dead — For though it breathe, and though life's currents flow, 'T is all unconscious of surrounding things — It no conception has of time nor place. Nor judgment such, as in waking hours is used; Hence the sleeper may, without surprise, hold Converse with those who long since left the earth. Nor think it strange that bird and beast may speak! But, while in sleep, the organs through which the mind Perception has of all material things Lie dormant and unconscious, the mind itself, (That ever-active Ego which never sleeps), May visit other realms than those of earth. And sights may see ne'er viewed by mortal eye. And voices hear far sweeter to the ear Than e'er upon it fell in waking hours. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 425 In sleep the mind to the body still is bound — Hence, dreams are often strangely wild and weird; Sometimes are pictures bright of beauteous things; Sometimes of monstrous forms and ghastly shapes, And sometimes memories of our waking lives, Which in wild fragments to the mind return. As gentle sleep refreshment brings to man When ended is the weary day of toil, So Death, the kind Angel of Transition, When ended is the stormy day of life. With gentle hand the weary lays to rest; With magic touch he breaks the cord that'binds The spirit in its prison house of clay. And freedom gives the bird of Paradise! As, at the birth of mortal life on earth. The new-born infant is by gentle hands Received, and nurtured with the tenderest care, — So, when the spirit from the earth departs And enters on a higher state of being, — 'Tis there received by hands of gentlest touch. And soothed by words as soft as e'er were breathed By earthly mother o'er her new-born babe. Then think not that the closing hour of life Is dark and lonely to the passing one; For, through the longest life of man on earth, Ne'er fell upon his sight a scene so grand As that which he beholds when first is raised The curtain dark that veils from mortal sight The glorious beauties of the Land of Love! STUDENT. Then, 'tis not true that man created was As innocent and pure as angels are ? And that, from such estate, he fell by sin. And thus incurred the penalty of death ? PYTHAGORAS. The simple innocence of primal man Was like that which the prowling tiger knows 426 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. While it devours the lamb it slayed for food; And Death, as the Angel of Transition, Preforms for man in life's dissolving scene The last kind office that he needs on earth. STUDENT. Do dwellers of the higher spheres themselves Surround with things of beauty, such as plants, And flowers, and shady groves, and meadows green? Does marble palace stand by silver lake, And vine-clad cottage by the winding stream ? PYTHAGORAS. No form whatever can preceiv^d be. Save through the aid of matter; nor can the mind Conceive of aught that feeling wakes of love. Or hate, or hope, or dark despair, unless To such thought material form be given. Man's works, to some extent, reflect his thoughts; And this is true — where'er he may exist — On earth, or in the higher realms of being! The savage builds a hut of rudest form. Which he adorns with trophies of the chase And gory scalps of foes in battle slain; Of Parian marble Ambition rears a palace; While the Poet the vine-clad cottage loves. Where summer breezes breathe the breath of flowers, And songs of birds are mingled with the voice Of murmuring silver streams. And, as on earth, — So in the life of higher realms, — each one Himself surrounds by things his mind creates: The Poet lives amid the things he loves. And fragrant flowers of rarest beauty bloom Around the pictured home where dwells the artist, While birds of sweetest note awake the morn With sylvan music, and lull the day to rest With songs of love. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 427 But while the/«r^ and bright will make their homes In marble hall, in vine-clad cottage low, Within the shade of ever-vernal groves, In sunny woodland vale or meadow green, Where flowers of beauty ever freshly bloom And birds of rarest plumage ever sing,— The soul depraved, which, while it dwelt on earth, Ne'er saw the light which beams from higher realms. But always wallowed in the sensual pool, Nor pleasure found, save in degrading lusts,— Will dwell 'mid shadows dark of uncouth things, The offspring of its sensual life on earth. And there remain, until the Light Divine (Which, though obscured, is not extinguished quite). Lead it to seek a higher realm of being! STUDENT. In the ethereal realms which you describe, You speak of flowery fields, and vernal groves; Of meadows green, and winding, silver streams; Of dwellings bright, and all such lovely things As ornament the beauteous homes of earth— What will there be the soul's companionship ? Do sexes there exist as here on earth ? And that mysterious law which has ordained That no companionship can perfect be Save where harmonious love the sexes join ? PYTHAGORAS. No moral being can all lonely dwell And happy be, is Nature's stern decree! From forces acting in harmonious order Are ever born the curving forms of grace; From two balanced forces springs the circle, Symbolic of love and beauty. Look where you will,— o'er Nature's wide domain,— You see in plant and tree, in flower and leaf, This constant symbol of harmonious love. 428 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. No happiness is found where love is not; Love never dwells save with sweet harmony; And this but in companionship is found! As well expect to meet the tropic flower Upon the Arctic iceberg, as hope to find True happiness without companionship; Or seek for beauty in a line direct, As look for it in lonely, abstract thought. The same dual and harmonious laws That mark on earth the sexual forms of life, Continue still in higher realms of being; But love, with those who 've reached the higher life, Compared with that which thrills the soul of man Amid the sensual scenes of earthly life, — Is as the rosy light that wakes the morn To the lurid glare of fierce, volcanic flame, Which from combustion springs of vilest things. STUDENT. Whence comes the soul of man, that viewless essence From which bright Thought is born and Reason springs ? Does its being with the body's life commence, Or does it spring from some Infinite Source ? Is its existence here upon the earth But one stage in an infinite journey Towards the Eternal Source from whence it sprang ? PYTHAGORAS. spirit, like Truth — eternal is — because It is Divine! it ne'er was born, and hence Can never die; nor can it tarnished be, Although its light be for a time obscured By the coarse garb in which it may be clothed. All forms of matter evanescent are. And change is writ on all that man beholds; But spirit, — though in its action it is dual, — In essence unchanging and eternal is. I IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 429 Were all material forms at once resolved Back to their elements invisible, The laws that regulate the square and cube, And that control elliptic curve and circle, Would still remain unchanged; although no power Could demonstrate these laws to mortal sight. Nor can spirit ever manifested be. Save through the myriad forms which are beheld On Nature's face of everlasting change: In mountain rock, in tree and plant, in flower. In meadow green and forest hoar, in storm. In sunshine and in shower, in rosy morn And dewy eve, and in the shades of night; And highest in the human face divine ! Pure spirit, until in matter it is clothed. Like law, makes manifest no moral sense; 'Tis stern as is a line direct, and cold As is the ice of Neptune's wintry sphere; But, when in a material garb 't is clothed. And it has reached the scale of sensuous life, — A being it becomes of moral sense. Endowed with all the passions of the soul: Love, Hope, Desire, and lofty Aspiration! When in man the spirit incarnated is. The being then is said to be immortal, — Since, before it lies a conscious future. Too vast for comprehension of the mind; For, 't is manifest, a future it may have So long as exist the moral passions: Love and Hope, Desire and Aspiration! When Hope no longer of the future sings. The soul must on the Infinite Bosom rest. Man's body, like the plant, is born of earth, And, like \he plant, it to the earth returns, — Dropped like a worn-out garment by the way; While the soul goes on its conscious journey Towards the source from whence it sprang! 430 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. STUDENT. A question bold I now would ask of thee: What is, and where dwells the Infinite Cause ? PYTHAGORAS. The Universal Father, however called By man— Jehovah, Brahma, Jove, or God — Is the spirit pure, of all that being has; Eternal Source of that unchanging Law Which with precision rules the Universe; The Infinite Fountain, from which issues All life and motion in material things. And all the thought that marks the conscious being; But, what the essence of this being is, The loftiest individual Mind that dwells In highest realms of Thought, no more can tell Than of the cause that gave the rose its life. Infinite, too, its everlasting dwelling is! With it, there is nor time, nor place, nor past. Nor future; nought but the Eternal Now / In essence 't is as formless and as cold As is the spirit of Eternal Law, But through material forms in sensuous life It manifests the moral attributes. It gives the dawn its roseate hue, and paints The sunset clouds; it shapes the lily's form. And gives the blooming rose its fragrant breath; It starts the tear in Pity's eye, and wakes The heaving sigh in Mercy's gentle breast; 'Tis seen upon the infant's smiling face And in the sweet blush of love that mantles On the maiden's blooming cheek; its voice is heard Upon the trembling lute; in mountain storm. In sighing evening breeze, and song of bird; And sweetest, when in melting tones are sung The gentle songs of love — for God is Love — And Love is the Infinite Soul that thrills The moral Universe, from darkest caves To highest realms of intellectual light! IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 431 AH being forever in eternal rounds Itself repeats in everlasting circles: The plant returns to dust, from whence it sprang, But to become a tree or plant again! The cloud of vapory form ascends from earth, And to the earth returns in fruitful showers! The rolling orb upon its axis turns! The planet, — in its circling orbit moves, — And revolving systems periods mark That tell the cycles of eternity! Man's mortal body from the earth was born, And to its fruitful womb again returns; His spirit springs from the Eternal Source, Becomes a moral being when incarnated, — Endowed with all the passions of the soul, — And with Immortal Reason for its guide Begins the mighty journey; along which. In £eons gone, it may have passed before! (Since \\i^ prese7it\'s, but what before has been); For brightest individual Mind that dwells In regions of sublimest Thought was once A mortal dweller on some lowly earth; And so, the humblest mortal son of earth. Led by the Light Divine that beams within. May reach the point where dwells the loftiest Mind! STUDENT. Your teachings, ancient sage, To me are clear as Reason's purest light, And pleasant as the notes of melody; Since the laws of Nature, as by you explained, Are based on Justice and on Love Divine, And no spirit of vindictive anger show. PYTHAGORAS. The doctrine of vindictive punishment Was born of Darkness, by Ignorance nursed, And ever is by Superstition cherished. The wise and loving father never can 432 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. With vindictive hand his children punish; E'en Justice, the sternest attribute divine, Ne'er speaks to erring ones in voice vindictive. And though it punishment inflict, 't is ever In sweet Mercy's sight, and never can be more Than she is forced to say is just and right. Infinite Wisdom, through Love and Justice, . Rules the realms of moral being, and each one Takes the place he has for himself prepared. STUDENT. This lesson of Companionship and Love Falls on my ear like note of waking harp. Which sweetest music makes, unheard before; And me impels to seek thee yet again. Tucson, Arizona, 1884. I IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 433 CONVERSATION IV. STUDENT, PYTHAGORAS, AND ANCIENT ONE. STUDENT. Tell me, sage of Samos, if this thou canst: When shall I find surcease from this unrest; This everlasting yearning of the soul For that which lies beyond its highest reach ? — Will e'er the spirit find a restful sleep In some far future land of rosy dreams ? PYTHAGORAS. Inquiring mortal! an Ancient One is here; One who had long an " Ancient been of Days," Or ere Pythagoras saw the light of earth! One who had watched the birth and death of worlds; Had seen them born as bloom the flowers of spring, And perish as fades the withered autumn leaf; Yet from sublimest realms descends to earth To breathe the fragrance of the dewy spring; To list the skylark sing its morning song, And teach thee wisdom! He now will answer thee. ANCIENT ONE. Wouldst thou learn wisdom, son of earth ? Then list To Nature's voice! And happy wouldst thou be, And find that peace for which thy soul now yearns ? In concord live with her unchanging laws! Despise not the small*, nor aught consider mean; For wreck of ruined world imports no more Than withered leaf upon the autumn wind; And budding flower a marvel is as great As is the birth of mightiest rolling orb! Seek not to unveil the hidden source of Life, Nor search the dwelling-place of Thought Divine; 434 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. But be content with what thou now mayst learn^ And with patience wait the higher knowledge. The slumbering chrysaHs can nothing know Of what awaits the gay-winged butterfly Amid the blooming flowers of sunny spring; Nor can the voiceless fish e'er learn the song That's carolled by the warbling bird. As from the Samian sage already learned, All forms their circles of existence have, — From lowest life to highest type of being; And fleeting are as sounding notes that tell The Poet's thoughts, or colors bright that paint The glowing pictures by the Artist wrought! The snowflake melts beneath the morning sun; The violet fades before the autumn's breath; The forest oak decays, and dies of age; The flinty rock becomes the summer dust, And rolling orb and flaming star in time Will pass as do the drops of morning dew. And into other forms of being change! But ir/mV— which to matter gives its form— As law^ unchanging and eternal is. Behold the myriad forms assumed by being In its ascent from lowest caves of darkness To realms of light and beauty! expressing each That form of life to which its sphere belongs; Each atom filling its appointed place. And all in harmonious order moving In strict obedience to Eternal Law; Receiving life, and thought, and moral sense All from the same Infinite Source unknown; Though differing in degree, the same in ki7id. The same Infinite Overruling Power That guides the atom on the wandering breeze,. Directs the storm and rules the rolling orb! The same Infinite Wisdom's law that bids The sparrow build its nest and rear its young, Inspires the loftiest intellectual being! IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 435 Seek not to grasp this Power, nor learn its source, Although it speaks through all material forms: From blooming flower to mightiest flaming orb, From humblest insect up to loftiest Being, — 'Twill still thy fruitless search elude, until 'Tis in the bosom of the Infinite lost. As in a ray of purest crystal light All colors sleep, — so the Infinite Bosom All things contains, and there all things are one! — World interblends with world, and spiral curve And inter-weaving circles mark the journey Of progressive being in its slow ascent From the lowest realms of life — up towards The Oneness of the all-embracing Infinite — The Eternal Father and Everlasting Mother! All things have spirit-life that gives them form; It gives the crystal shape, it shades the marble, It paints the flower, it moulds the dewdrop, It forms the rolling orb and flaming star And paints the rose upon the maiden's cheek! Mark the ascent from dark, material caves To realms of highest intellectual being: First, nought is seen but blind, imperious law, As shown by curling vine and icy crystal; Ascending higher, is found the moral sense In love of lower orders for their offspring; And glimpses faint of Reason's beaming light In cunning work of insect, beast, and bird; But nought of abstract reasoning power Which wakes the moral sense of right and wrong. Last in the scale, behold Immortal Reason ! And that high moral sense, as found in man; Those attributes divine, that make him heir To immortality, and lord sublime Of intellectual realms! With Moral Sense, And Reason for his guides, and Memory bright 436 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. For his recording angel, he for himself His glorious world of being then creates! Then, before him lies the mighty journey Which leads towards the Unknown Infinite; And behind, the lower realms already passed And now forgot, but to be again recalled When in the circle vast a point is reached Where the Xovi'gpast and future meet as one ! Recording Memory lays not her tablets by, While Desire to an unknown future points! When Hope no longer looks with longing eyes. Then Memory shuts her book, lays down her pen, And, for a season, seeks repose in sleep; But to awake! and begin her task again. And write the record of another day. Which makes one cycle of life immortal. This is thy mighty future, son of earth; And this the journey that before thee Hes! Tremble not, nor dread the loss of Thought Divine, Nor the blotting out of Memory's record, — For this vast journey is but one passing day Of being; which, as the Infinite, is eternal. But all organic being must sometimes rest. And in refreshing slumber seek repose: A night of rest succeeds a day of toil; The summer leaf and flower in autumn fade. To be renewed again in vernal spring; And smiling Hope ever of to-morrow sings! This is the destiny of soul, and this The mighty journey that before it lies; The end of which is vast infinitude. Where nought but pure, unchanging spirit dwells; The Infinite Source from which all being springs, And to which all things in the end return. As vapory clouds which from the ocean rise, In drops of rain return to it again. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 437 But this is not eternal sleep or death To individual mind, more than is sleep The death of all preceding life on earth. Moral being a future has until it reach The point sublime where all at last is seen — The past and future — which is but the past. On the Infinite Bosom then it sleeps In sweet repose, forgetful of the past. Until awaked again in embryo form In some earthly nursery of Immortal Being To run the cycle of another day. This is the destiny of soul immortal, And this the moral being of Infijiite Spirit f Earth's lower forms by nature are supplied With all they need their wants to satisfy; Nor do their simple natures long for more — Their harmless, happy lives as shadows pass, — They live harmonious with Nature's laws. With no far-reaching wish unsatisfied, And die at last with nought of hope or fear. But even they in some far-distant future May the memory of their simple lives recall; Since faintest spark that shines through lowest form Will ne'er be in eternal darkness quenched! Man, as an earthly being, is compound, Embracing all below him in the scale — His lower being is common with the brute. Next in the scale is found the moral sense, The realm of Passion: Hope, Desire, and Love, And all the passions deep that ornament Or may degrade the life of man on earth. This is the fruitful garden of the soul, Where flowers may bloom, or noxious weeds may grow. 'Bove these, in state, bright Reason sits enthroned! Lord Supreme, and Ruler of the realm of Mind, Whose office is to guide the lower passions. 438 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. When in this triune being sweet Concord reigns, Then roses bloom and songs of love are heard; But when harsh Discord reigns, then is evil seen, — And the light which to Divinity belongs, By baleful clouds is darkened and obscured. Where Harmony exists, there heaven is found; But where harsh Discord reigns, there must be hell. Nourish then with temperance the material form. Nor seek to crush all passion from the soul; For these are needful to a perfect life — But ever list to Reason's searching voice, And let her counsels be thy constant guide. What does the voice of Reason teach, and what The language writ in Nature's glorious book ? That he who breaks a law by Nature writ, Must pay the penal debt that law ordains. From this there's no escape by aught that lives. In lowest caves or highest realms of being! Then, son of Earth! if thou wouldst wisdom find. List to Reason's voice, and with patience read Great Nature's book, and in obedience live To her unerring and unchanging laws. Not till being has reached the moral plane. Does Reason rule the organic structure. In the lower realms all things are subject To imperious law, which ever bids like To seek its kindred like, and war proclaims And strife between discordant elements — But such warring strife is not destructive. But concord brings in higher realms of being! Rolling thunders shake the abysmal depths, And fiery tempests sweep the realms of chaos; But lightning's flash and rolling thunder's voice Are but Nature's struggles for harmonious order. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 439 No being lower in the scale than man Can Nature's laws direct; the bird, and beast, And finny tribes to them subjective are; Nor does the herb, or plant, or tree take thought Of how it shall be fed or clothed. But when upon the brow bright Reason sits, Man becomes creative, and director is Of Nature's laws — He holds the forked lightning In his grasp; at the howling storm he laughs; Adds sweetness to the sylvan fruits of earth; Gives beauty to the blooming rose, and makes The wilderness a paradise of love! He makes the savage beast a docile friend; He scans the distant star; catches the winged light; Draws bright pictures from the realms of Beauty, And on the bright historic page he leaves A name immortal ! And thus. Reason makes man godlike in knowledge, With power to act, as may his will direct — To stern Justice, for his acts accounting. Clear is Reason's light, but cold as moonbeams On the polar ice; no flowers of beauty E'er bloom beneath her piercing rays, her voice Ne'er starts the tear in Pity's eye; nor does Her cold hand e'er soothe the breast of Sorrow — This, the office of sweet Religion is, The gentlest spirit of ethereal realms — Born of the bosom of Eternal Love! Her voice is soft, and soothing is her touch, — Whether in garments of superstition clothed. In classic robes, or in the mystic garb Of dreamy Indian priest; whether speaking Through the untutored savage, sage, or prophet old, Or through the meek and gentle Nazarene! Her voice is still the same howe'er she's clothed. 440 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 'T is she who points to brighter worlds than this! 'T is her bright glance that cheers the darkest gloom, And her sweet voice that sings the songs of Hope! Her empire is the realm of moral being — The blooming garden of the human soul ! When Reason bright and sweet Religion there With mingling light illume the mind of man, Then is fair Conscience born, to be a guide To man along the misty vales of earth. Harmonious with himself, with Nature's laws, And with the universe, — he 's then, indeed, A lofty being, and fitted is to dwell With beings of a higher realm than earth! Thou now hast learned from whence bright Wisdom springs; Wouldst thou be happy in thy life on earth, And fitted be for higher realms of being ? Seek then the light that beams from Reason's brow, And list Religion's gentle voice of love! Heed the voice of Conscience, by these begot. And let her counsels be thy moral guide! From Reason shalt thou learn imperious law, Which rules all moral and material realms — She '11 teach thee to obey those laws divine, As well in small, as in the greatest things; As well in matters touching earthly life, As things that reach a higher state of being. She '11 teach thee care of thy material form, By careful ministry to its needful wants. That it may be a dwelling for thy soul Until the stormy life of earth has passed. From her bright teachings shalt thou also learn That sensual pleasures no sweet memories leave, — That they 're forgot, or leave a sting behind, — While moral pictures brighter grow with time; That oft the tears of grief by sorrow shed. Are jewels bright in Memory's casket. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 441 The thirst of yesterday is now forgot, While the songs a mother sang in childhood Are echoed still, though age has dimmed the sight — One is a thing but of material birth. Which, passing, leaves no lasting scar behind; The other is a flower of moral growth. Whose bloom defies the chilling frost of age! Store then thy mind with things that perish not. But which will stand the test of all transitions. What these shall be, let bright Reason teach thee, And the instinctive language of thy soul — All thoughts and things that to bright Truth pertain, All that which in the breast pure love inspires And leads toward the Good and Beautiful, Will be the current coin of higher realms. A gentle word may make a lasting record, — While proudest palace crumbles into dust! What 's of the earthy still on the earth remains, As leaves the butterfly its shell behind When, rising on its painted, flowery wing It sports o'er summer field and meadow green! The faintest reasoning from effect to cause — The love that in the humblest bosom dwells, — And tiniest things of beauty, are all the same, Whether found in the misty vales of earth, Or in the most supernal realms of being. The love the sparrow feels is not unlike That which the bosom of an angel thrills; And Beauty sleeps as sweetly on the rose's breast As 'mid the blooming flowers of Paradise! Then, son of earth! if thou wouldst not bankrupt be When passed are the feverish dreams of earth. Pledge not thy soul to low and beastly passion. Nor a servant be to wild Ambition! But cultivate the love of Truth and Beauty, And harmonize thy being here on earth With what awaits thee in a higher state. 442 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Far banish from thy soul all selfish pride, Nor scorn the teachings of the humblest things; For from the insect thou mayst wisdom learn, And bird and beast may teach thee gentle love! Nurse not the thoughts which from dark passions spring, And which defile the sweet face of Beauty And being give to hideous forms of Vice, (Which are the offspring of diseased passion), — But ever let thy mind in concord be With Nature's sweet, harmonious laws of Love. When man shall in harmonious concord live With Nature's laws, with Reason for his guide And sweet Religion's love within his soul, Then shall all evil disappear from earth,— As foulest phantoms born of midnight dreams Are scattered by the rosy beams of morn! Then shall the golden age of man on earth Be more than poet's dream, or prophet's vision, — And where the poisonous weeds of vice now grow, Sweet flowers will bloom — and where dark prisons frown, The smiling field and cottage will be seen! Then, son of earth! if thou wouldst wisdom learn. And happy be on earth, and find a place Among bright ones in higher realms than this. Heed well these counsels of the Ancient One. San Francisco, 1888. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 443 CONVERSATION V. STUDENT AND ANCIENT ONE. STUDENT. Mysterious spirit of the Ancient One, If witliin the range of thy far-reaching mind, Explain to me this marvellous work which I Have with patient, earnest toil so long pursued ? Have I been but by wayward fancy led. Or of some juggling fiend the sport have been. Who, by some magic power, has me impelled Through weary years this labor to pursue. But to gratify a soul malignant ? Or, for purpose wise, has some spirit good Me impelled to follow this mysterious work As explanation of creative laws ? This I seek to learn from thy bright wisdom. ANCIENT ONE. Patient toiler in pursuit of knowledge! He who with earnest purpose seeks the truth Can ne'er be made the sport of mocking spirit, Nor e'er be lost amid the clouds of darkness; For though he wander long in doubt and gloom. He, in the end, will meet a just reward For his long-suffering and enduring toil. Glance down the shadowy vista of the past. E'en to the sunny days of childhood young. And tell me what thou find'st recorded there ? STUDENT. I read the record of the lonely life Of one who in childhood a dreamer was; Who peopled shady dells with fairy forms And saw them dance beneath the silver moon; 444 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Who heard soft whisperings in the evening breeze, And wailing voices in the autumn winds; Who loved not the rude voice of boisterous mirth, And shrank from the ribald speech of noisy crowds, But converse held with plant, and tree, and flower. And ever found companionship with Nature! ANCIENT ONE. Find then in this the key-note of thy being, And learn how echoes from the higher realms Are sometimes caught by those who dwell on earth. Why sages old have told of things unseen! Why Homer sang his epic songs, and Virgil In bucolic verse a classic record left! — Who bade the bard of Avon tune his lyre; The Doric reed to Scotia's minstrel gave, And tuned the harp for Erin's son of song! — Who taught the sculptor's hand its art divine. And gave to Raphael's brush its magic touch! — And learn from this why thou in childhood's morn Shrank from rude companionship and ever sought The shady woods, made vocal by the songs of birds; And loved the flowers of spring, the autumn leaf, The sighing breeze and howling wintry storm; And in manhood a romantic dreamer was Of some unknown land of Love and Beauty; And now, when hoary age has dimmed thy sight. Still by day, and in the silent hours of night. With patient search and unremitting toil. For knowledge seek'st in Nature's mystic realms, Nor fear'st alone to tread her darkest paths. As from the Samian sage already learned, All forms material spring from the realm of Cause, And speak the language of Infinite Thought; In form, in voice, in color, and in action, — As forced to do by their organic laws; The rose of Beauty tells; the howHng storm. The rolling thunder, and the earthquake's voice Are tongues that tell of Nature's mighty power. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 445 The song of bird, the hjann by poet sung-, The sounding lyre and harp of tuneful note, — The picture by the hand of artist wrought, And snowy form of sculptured Beauty, are all But the plain language of Infinite Cause, — Which all may read whose souls are in accord With Nature's ever-sounding harmonies! Whene'er the mind receptive is of thought From the World of Cause, (the realm of spirit-life), It then may glimpses catch of brighter things Than e'er are seen amid the clouds of earth — * * * * ^- * * * * Then can it pictures paint: in burning words. In glowing colors from the rainbow caught, In sketches rude, by hand unskilled in art. Or by sounds of strange and weird melody, — Which tell of things that ne'er are seen by those Who dwell alone upon the sensual plane; And echoes catch of sounding harmonies, Which ne'er are heard by their insensate ears. And this is inspiration! which is but To have the mental chords so strung that they Will vibrate to the waves of Thought Divine, Which ever roll from being's highest realms. And wake the souls of those who 've ears to hear! One thus awaked is oft a dreamer called. Because he sometimes soars above the clouds And mists of earth, and in a language speaks By the low, sordid mind not understood. But the airy pictures by the dreamer wrought While catching glimpses of the higher realms, Will still be bright when flowers shall cease to bloom And solar beams no longer light the sky! Therefore, go on! and still this work pursue, And if it give thee pleasure, then art thou paid — And 'tis not labor lost, though others may Upon it look but as a dream of Fancy. 446 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. The whispering breeze that wakes the ^ohan chord By the insensate rock is heeded not; The pastoral beauties of the flowery mead, Which ever fill the Artist's mind with rapture, Wake no emotions in the beastly ox As he the herbage crops to stay his hunger. And thus the echoes from the World of Cause, Which sometimes fall upon the listening ear Of one whose mind accords with Nature's laws, By the dull, sordid soul are never heard. Since all being springs from one Infinite Cause, All in kinship together interwoven is — From most insensate form to highest type; From smallest atom to the mightiest orb; All speaking words from one Infinite Book — Some in ^olian strains of softest music. Some in tempest wild and rolling thunder, Some in epic hymn to dying hero sung. And some in sighing notes that tell of sorrow, — Being all harmonious and accordant sounds From Nature's boundless realms of Cause. Behold the circle of material being, — Embracing all forms of life organic Through which is manifest Infinite Thought; The higher from the lower form evolved, — As graceful stem springs from ungainly root, And as from leaf and bud the flower is born; Each filling its allotted place in being's chain. And all combining in harmonious order To form the Oneness of the Universe! Behold the monstrous forms of life organic That swam the ancient turbid seas of earth Ere tree and plant were born, or flower bloomed; Ere beast had roamed the shady grove, or bird Had sung its song of love! Through these monstrous forms the Infinite Mother First gave a birth to sensuous life on earth IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 447 Long ages ere it cradled infant man; For beings of grossest form at first were born, Such as alone could life sustain amid The poisonous waters of the thermal seas, In which the first organic life appeared; These monsters disappeared, and succeeded were By beings of a higher type of form; Of whose forthcoming they foretold. Already art thou taught that Nature works By dual laws in all creative acts; From lowest form to that of highest type. And that creation is but change of form. These duals in pictured language symbolled are; One by the brain, the seat of Thought and Will; One by the heari, where yearning passion dwells— Male and female, through all the realms of Nature, And so ordained by universal law. In Nature's all-engendering womb, these duals Give shape to all the myriad forms of matter Through which is manifest mysterious life; Each from the Infinite Source receiving So much of spirit as its form requires. Behold with reverence the mysteries of Creation I Nor dare with beastly thought or lewd desire Profane the secrets of her holy temple. And learn that nought in Nature's sight is base Which has been formed by her creative laws, And nought is sin save what these laws forbid. Through all forms of matter speaks infinite spirit! By force attractive, or by stern repulsion; And these the language make of Love and Hate — To this stern law there no exception is. All change and motion in material realms Are governed by these stern, imperious laws; They hold the planet in its circling path, They send the comet on elliptic curve 448 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. To the far region of its aphelion, And to its perihelion call it back To light again its torch in solar beams! They bid the starry systems cycles mark, And aeons count on the eternal dial! They wake the breeze that shakes the summer leaf, And wing the storm that rends the gnarled oak! They paint the rose and shape the lily's form; They give the brow of morn its roseate hue, And gild the sunset clouds! As in material, so in vioral realms, They voice the Infinite Soul of Nature — They wake the chord that thrills the material heart In bird and beast, and in the human breast; They paint the blush upon the maiden's cheek Responsive to the yearning voice of love, When two harmonious souls in wedlock meet. And these are Nature's laws of marriage: as seen In sleeping mineral, in plant, in blooming flower, In bird, in beast, and in highest type of being; And in all they are but the voice of God — For God is the Spirit of Infinite love ! When man shall learn to read these laws divine, As writ in Nature's Everlasting Book, — And shall obey what by these laws are taught, — Then shall harsh discord disappear from earth. And, in its stead, be heard sweet songs of love! Aye, when man shall learn to list to Reason's voice And live in strict accord with Nature's laws, — To worship at the shrine where Love and Beauty Are clothed in Wisdom's purest robes of light, — Then shall Ambition lose his thirst for power; The tyrant's arm hang nerveless by his side; Cold Avarice then relax his iron grasp; Dark Superstition disappear from earth, And brutal Passion hide its hideous head. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 449 Then shall the rosy bridal-couch be pure As is an angel's dream, and no foul stain Shall then defile the sacred robes of Venus While ministering at the Altar of Creation! Then may be born on earth bright things of beauty Uncurst by seeds of foul parental taint, Which now with sad abortions people earth, Doomed by the record of ancestral wrong And forced to take a heritage of woe. Sad outcasts of earth! Poor diseased ones! No prison bars nor dungeons dark can cure The bitter curse which they are doomed to bear, Nor aught avail the savage penal code Which to the hangman gives his brutal office. To slay this ghastly hydra of deformity, And dry the poisonous springs that give it life. First cleanse the fount, — then pure will be the stream! Instead of cloistered cells and gloomy aisles In which are heard the solemn sound of dirge, And where are taught dogmatic rules of faith And the law of punishment vindictive, — Rear temples to the Good and Beautiful, Whose altars shall be wrought by sculptor's art From Parian marble in chastest forms of Beauty! Whose walls shall be adorned with pictures bright Of scenes of love, such as may angels feel ! Let breath of flowers the only incense be That 's ever offered at the shrine of Love; And cheerful thoughts the prayers that there are said — Instead of mournful hymns, be heard the sound Of sweetest music, mingling with the voice Of laughing waters and the songs of birds — And to these temples call the sons of earth. And teach them there to love the Beautiful! Then let man be taught to read the open book So clearly writ by Nature's cunning hand; And list the teachings of her laws divine — 450 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. As seen in tree and plant, in leaf and flower, In insect, bird, and beast, and upright man, In falling snowflake and in rolling orb, In frowning brow and face that beams with love! As heard in sighing breeze and howling storm. In voice of discord and in song of love! Then shall he learn that seeming things of earth, Are but fleeting shadows from the World of Cause, - That man's life on earth is but a passing dream, — But one short day of fitful light and shade. In which Grief treads upon the heels of Joy, And Suffering follows in the path of Pleasure In the journey of progressive being Towards the ethereal realms where Concord reigns. Then shall he learn the nature of his being; That he embraces what beneath him is — While the empire of his far-reaching mind Is boundless as the reach of Thought Divine! His earthly being owns what it requires, While 'tis a dwelling for the soul immortal On its transient journey through the vales of earth; While to his mind belong all things on earth. And in the higher realms, within its reach! The distant star, whose light a thousand years Has on its journey been to earth, belongs To him whose searching mind can comprehend The laws sublime that regulate its being — The atom, which with microscopic power He brings within his searching vision's range. And bids it tell the history of its being, Belongs to his far-reaching mind. Thus, man is greater than the mightiest orb That rolls in splendor through the realms of space!. Aye, than all the countless forms of matter Through which is manifest Infinite Thought— For suns shall cease to glow, and rolling orbs Shall perish and to other forms of being change. As melts the snowflake in the morning sun IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 451 And fades the leaf before. the autumn's breath, — But mind unchanging and eternal is, As is the Spirit of Infinite Cause. Go seat thyself beneath a garden tree, While the blooming rose is bathed in morning dew. And the air is vocal with the songs of birds And the humming sound of summer insects; Behold the budding flower and fading leaf Side by side upon the self-same parent stem, — The tender plant beside the withered stalk, — And learn from these the lesson of creation. Of birth and growth, and of decay and death, (Which nothing is but constant change of form); Yet these fragile things, whose forms are fleeting As figments of a passing midnight dream. Have each a spirit which gives it form and color; The form is transient, but the spirit lives! Behold the glories of the midnight sky! The rolling planets in their mighty rounds! And beaming stars that gem the brow of night! These, to the eye, eternal and unchanging seem. And tradition and historic records tell That as now they shine they shone in ancient days. And seasons marked and time for sons of earth ; Yet these, like flowers upon a blooming tree. Are born to fade, and die, and pass away. The summer leaf and flower in autumn fade, But still the tree remains, and blooms again! Yet, in time, the parent tree will perish, too, — When from its dust one of like form will spring. Thus forms, like passing shadows, come and go In the vast circle of material being; Each expressing the Infinite Spirit In language suited to its form specific. Then, son of earth! be patient on thy journey Of one day through the mortal vales of earth; For this is needful to a higher life — Weep not o'er the blight of cherished earthly hopes, 452 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Nor heed the warring strife of adverse winds; Faint not beneath Affliction's heavy load, Nor shed regretful tears o'er what is passed; But ever look towards the glorious future Where all at last shall find a just reward When passed are the chilling storms of earthly life. San Francisco, 1889. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 453 CONVERSATION VI. STUDENT AND ANCIENT ONE. STUDENT. Now tell me, ancient sage, if this thou canst: How, when, and where did man his first appearance Make on the earth ? ANCIENT ONE. All changes in material forms on earth, Of birth, of growth, and of decay and death, Are but result of all-pervading life, Which being gives, and form, to all that is; From lowest cell in Nature's darkest womb To form ethereal of sublimest realms! But whence this forceful, active life, not thou Canst comprehend, nor even I explain. More than to the Infinite I a bound can fix. As thou, in former lessons, hast been taught, Man from creative law is not exempt; He to his present stately form came up Through myriad lower orders of creation; But though he highest stands in being's scale, Of all the countless creatures born of earth. He 's still but in the early dawn of life; And he, with all his godlike powers of mind, Is not so perfect as his humbler kin. He 's not so fleet as is the winged bird, Nor in form so graceful as the bounding steed; The mantling blush upon the maiden's cheek Is dull beside the bloom that paints the rose; Yet man, although the youngest child of earth. Has ascent made from his ancestral tree Through aeons, of which no record has been left By the recording pen of Memory! 454 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. With unfolding process Nature ever works In the construction of material forms, — From sleeping monad in the crystal chained To loftiest being of angelic form, To voice the soul of sound and pictures paint Of Love and Beauty. From crystal of prismatic shape is born The glowing colors in the rainbow seen; But cold and lifeless seems its icy form. Nor' needs it light and air for its support. The plant organic has its circling veins, By vital currents coursed, which give it life. And dies whene'er their annual flow is stopped; It drinks the dew and breathes the summer air. It greets the rising sun with opening flowers. And with fragrant breath perfumes the dewy morn. But droops and dies, when in the darkness chained; And in it faintly dawns the moral sense — Since on the summer breeze with downy wings It seeks its dual mate in love's embrace. Already, from former teachings, hast thou learned That earth's primeval oceans teemed with life; That hideous monsters swam the ancient seas, And slimy reptiles crawled the dismal swamps Long ere the browsing herd the meadow roamed, Or bird had waked the dewy morn with song! Man into conscious being came on earth Like plant and tree, and insect, beast, and bird, And all things else that have organic life; By that unchanging and inherent law That shapes the dewdrop and rounds the rolling orb; That makes each atom seek its appointed place, And bids revolving systems periods mark — By the same law that makes the stagnant pool Bring forth the tiny sleep-disturbing insect, Whose life is measured by a summer's day! . He from the earth was born, as was the plant; IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 455 But who can count the circling ages o'er That then were numbered in the age of earth, When ih\s prophetic sign of upright man Sprang from the ever-teeming womb of earth ? And who can tell what untold seons passed Ere this primeval sign of lordly man Had such advancement made in being's scale That it could reason from effect to canse ? Now look abroad upon this rolling orb! From ice-bound regions, where, 'mid Arctic snows, Stern Winter holds his court, — to southern climes. Where tropic breezes fan the heated earth, — And mark the myriad forms of life organic That spring from Nature's all-engendering womb! Each fitted for the place that gave it birth, And languish would, and die, if thence removed. The plant that springs amid the Arctic snows Would wither 'neath the burning southern sun; The floral grandeur of the tropic woods Is ne'er beheld upon the Arctic plains, Nor roams the lion where dwells the polar bear. The dusky native of the tropic jungle Dreads not the tainted air and deadly dew That slays the fair-browed son of northern climes, Because it is the place that gave him birth. STUDENT. Then, 'tis not true, — as long it has been taught, — That all mankind, wherever found on earth, However high or low in being's scale, Sprang from one pair, by special act created ? ANCIENT ONE. No; as well suppose that the Iceland moss And the southern palm from the same parents sprang; Or that the savage wolf and gentle lamb Once in loving friendship the forest roamed, — As that the brutal savage of the isles, 456 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Who makes foul feast on festering human flesh, And the fair-browed son of Caucasian blood Are offsprings of one lone-created pair. And thus far have we traced the race of man From his conception in the womb of earth, Until a lord creative he became, With power to catch the winged beam of light And bid it tell of the far-off shining star — From whence it came! STUDENT. Can measured be, by years of solar time, The period long in this transition spent ? ANCIENT ONE. Nature marks not time by revolving orb. Nor planet circling round its central sun. Who can count the aeons long that Nature took To place the earth in a condition fit To life sustain of lowest form organic, As in her humblest floral offspring seen ? And who can tell how many ages passed. Ere the Earth gave birth to more complex growths, Which prophesied of higher forms to come ? Or tell what circling seons further ran, Ere from Nature's self-engendering womb Was born the plant of highest type organic. Which shadowed forth the upright form of man ? Man works with eager and impatient haste, By grasping greed or by ambition urged. That he may reach the end for which he toils, Within the circle of his earthly life — But Nature works not thus in peopling worlds: With her a thousand ages are no more Than fleeting moments of a passing day; And atom wandering on the evening breeze Imports as much as does the rolling orb That Hghts the brow of night! IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 457 STUDENT. Are any limits fixed to human progress ? Does man advance so far, and not beyond ? Is his advancement Hke an ocean wave, Which onward rolls till into spray 't is dashed Upon the shores of dark forgetfulness ? ANCIENT ONE. On the material plane where Mammon reigns, — Where Hermes rules, — where rosy Bacchus dwells, And revel keeps beneath the clustering vine, And smiling Venus holds her Cyprian court, — A limit is to progress; on such plane The miser's hoarded gold him profits not. Nor wealth by commerce won contentment brings. The daintiest food in time will bring disgust, And sensual pleasures are with poisons mixed; But in the realm sublime where Wisdom dwells No limit can be fixed to mind progressive. The monumental pile will turn to dust, The proudest name in time will be forgot; But Thought sublime, like Truth, eternal is. And onward is its flight towards the Infinite. STUDENT. Then, 't were wise in man to seek the better way That ends not on the shores of hopeless gloom, But upwards leads to realms where Beauty dwells, Unsullied by the stains of sensual life! But tell me, Ancient One, if in thy power — Since Nature's laws with all perfection work, Nor useless wheel nor broken link is found In all her works so vast and complicate, — Whence come the ills, the suffering, sin, and crime That darken and deform all earthly life ? Is source of Good the source of Evil, too ? Do these two streams from the same fountain flow ? If so, how can the fountain then be pure ? 458 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. ANCIENT ONE. The first faint streaks that Hght the brow of morn When rosy twilight wakes the sleeping earth, Spring from the same effulgent source of light That gives its brightness to the noonday hour; And thus the faintest signs of sensuous life Which animate the lowest form of being Spring from the same all-giving Source of Life From which the loftiest mind receives its light! Though on his brow the light of reason beams, Man in his structure shows the lower links In being's chain progressive through which he 's passed To reach the point where he at present stands; He, on the earthly plane, a compound is Of spirit bright and grovelling passions low; He gifted is with godlike powers of mind — On wings of thought he soars to heights sublime. And pictures draws of scenes of fairest beauty! And deep descends to Nature's darkest caves, And learns the secrets of her hidden realms! Yet subject is to all material laws By which earth's humbler children are controlled — A slave he is to hunger and to thirst, And to the impulse strong which Nature gives To all her children to create their kind. The brute no Mentor has, save Nature's laws. To curb, direct, and guide its craving passions; And hence it ne'er o'ersteps their wholesome bounds. It has no cunning hand with which to toil, — Hence cannot till the soil, nor weapons form To slay its fellow and destroy its kind; Nor aught create to minister to pleasure, — Nor aught obtain to satisfy its wants Beyond what Nature has for it prepared; It therefore can commit no moral wrong — It is, in Nature's household, still a child! But thinking man has reached a point above The nursery plane where dwells the humble brute, IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 459 Nor subject is to Nature's leading-strings, But to his reason is accountable! And if he heed not what her precepts teach, He needs upon himself must suffering bring. All things of beauty which from Nature spring, And all conceptions in the World of Art Which color give and form to pictures bright Are but the offspring of harmonious laws! And forces in harmonious concert form The graceful curves that lines of beauty trace: In stem and branch of tree, in twining vine. In leaf and flower, symmetric form of fruit, In swelling ocean wave, in curling mist, In drooping willow, and in waving corn — In form of insect, bird, and beast, — and lines Of beauty in the human face divine! And colors, too, combine in harmony, And pictures form of gentle love and beauty, Which fill the mind with rapture and delight And make their creators' names immortal. Nature's warring forces, as shown in whirlwind, In earthquake, lightning, storm, and tempest wild, Are but her efforts made to find repose. These warring forces needs discordant are; Hence, uncouth pictures form in angles sharp. Which fill the mind untutored with dismay. As dual forces, when they balanced are. Give birth to graceful forms and pictures bright, So, when harmonious on the moral plane, Their offspring ever will be things of beauty, With no harsh lines to mar their harmony And give them features of discordant evil. Soft is the music where sweet Concord reigns 'Mid flowers that bloom beneath the smiles of Love! And where'er this condition may be found, There too is found the dwelling-place of Good; But where harsh Discord dwells, there Evil reigns,; 46o IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. And serpents hiss among the poisonous weeds Where lurks the monster of malignant Hate. As sweet Concord but a condition is, So is opposing Discord but a state; Nor can the one be called unchanging Good, Nor the other the spirit dark of changeless Evil. What varied strains of melody are born From the few primal notes in music known! Some that tell of scenes of pastoral beauty; Of golden sunbeams, and of flowery fields; Some that tell of lightning, storm, and earthquake- Some that tell of warring strife, and battle fierce- Some that sing of love; some that tell of hate, Of joy, of grief, of hope, of dark despair — Yet all these varied pictures are produced By ringing changes on these primal notes. And, from the colors in the rainbow seen. What countless pictures are by the artist wrought Of harmonious Beauty or of warring Strife! STUDENT. If Harmony be Good, and it is born From strict observance of harmonious laws, By which is ruled the universe of being, — And Evil springs from disregard of law, — And man a free agent is, with Reason For a guide in pursuit of his well-being, — Then his own judgment should him teach to live In strict accord with Nature's ruling law! ANCIENT ONE. If man had reached perfection in his being. Like those who 've passed to highest realms of life, Then would his nature be in strict accord With highest law of perfect harmony; He then would need no guide to keep him right, Since to himself he then a law would be. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 461 At midnight all things are in darkness hid ; Nor form, nor color bright distinguished is — In morning twilight these are dimly seen, And at the noonday hour the meadow green, The field and forest and the sunny glade Are clothed in floral robes of light and beauty! The mineral still in midnight darkness sleeps — The lower orders of organic life Are still in the early mornmg twilight ; While on the head of man the risen sun Sheds some slant beams of intellectual light. Yet far below the noonday of his being. He flounders still in bogs of sensual passion. No task on earth has man so difficult As rightly to adjust a balance fair Between the compounds of his dual nature: One drags him down to beastly appetite. The other bids him look to higher realms! Yet both are needful on the earthly plane; But both should subject be to reason. If man live on the sensual plain alone, Then is he still within the brutal realm; But if he crush all passion in his soul. Unfit he is to dwell upon the earth — Since, while he dwells upon the earthly plane, Must be regarded his material needs; And when the balance fair is well preserved Between his earthly wants and higher thoughts, Then with Nature's laws is life harmonious. STUDENT. ^2/// then is not, as in creed 'tis taught, An independent power at war with Good ; But a condition of diseased passion, Which from intemperate use and ignorance springs ? 462 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. ANCIENT ONE. What would man be without his hopes, his fears, His longing aspirations and desires; His loves, his hates, and all the attributes That dignify him as a moral being? Yet all these, when by reason unrestrained, Become degrading vices; just as fire, When uncontrolled, becomes a fell destroyer! No thrilling passion of the human soul. By Nature's law, but needful is to man Upon his journey through the vales of earth. STUDENT. If dual forces are creative agents. And are result of harmonious laws. Why are their offspring often found imperfect ? Why are abortions often found on earth. And chiefly in the human race ? ANCIENT ONE. Look to the realms of inorganic being! Behold the crystal in the caves of earth. And snowflake falling from the wintry cloud! With these creative laws have not been checked, — Hence, in symmetric form, they perfect are; And in leaf and flower, insect, bird, and beast But rarely are abortions found in form, Since Nature's laws creative they obey. Ascending in the scale to reasoning man, We find abortive and distorted forms — And rarely do we see symmetric beauty, And never such a human face divine As Raphael to his creations gave Of his conception of an angel's face, By inspiration's beaming light received From realms where Beauty's form is never marred By violation of harmonious laws. IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 463 Hadst thou a vision of sufficient power, Then couldst thou clearly see the aural sphere Pertaining to each organic being, And which from its inherent nature springs, As from the flower is its aroma born. When on earth two aurals in contact come. If they accord, no jarring shock is felt, Since they assimilate in harmony; The circling currents meeting no obstruction, A strong attractive impulse then is felt Between the dwellers of such aural spheres; And this \s friendship pure ; and, too, 'tis love! But if these aural spheres discordant are, Then, when they meet, there will be jarring strife; Since by attractive and repulsive laws Does Nature work in all material worlds In acts creative and destructive. On these strict laws are based the loves and hates Of all the sensuous beings found on earth; And in the lower kingdoms, too, they rule Where forms by chemic laws are made, and where By the same laws they are destroyed. But of all attractions and repulsions, The strongest far are those of sexual duals— Where these harmonious are is Paradise; But where discordant, there is found a hell! And disregard of this essential law Productive is of countless ills on earth Among her offspring of the highest form. The plant ne'er violates this dual law, Nor humble brute o'ersteps the bounds prescribed; But man, with Reason's light upon his brow,'. With madness disregards the sacred laws By which material forms created are; And, led by avarice, lust, or base desire. He ventures oft to tread forbidden ground, 464 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. And thus upon himself misfortune brings And to his offspring leaves a life of woe. STUDENT. Does then the parent to the child transmit The mental features which it may possess ? If so, does not this then the spirit make The offspring of the parents, and their creation ? ANCIENT ONE. Each earthly form, by Nature's laws produced, A spirit will attract to suit such form; This is by Nature's changeless law decreed. 'T is this that gives the rose its fragrant breath, The nightingale and lark their notes of song. The fox its cunning — to the lion courage. And to the serpent its desire to sting. No form, however high or low it be. But has a spirit to its being suited. STUDENT. If this be so, how then correct the evil Which springs from operation of these laws ? And who to Justice must account therefor. Since nothing high or low itself creates, But into being comes by laws organic ? ANCIENT ONE. The lower forms of life organic perish When the conditions change from whence they sprang; And thus have many races disappeared Since the first sensuous child of earth was born. But higher forms by culture are improved, And made express a higher form of life: The rose becomes more beautiful in form, The savage beast more gentle in its nature; When deadly swamps and stagnant pools are drained. Malaria disappears, and healthful plants Are found where serpents hissed 'mong noxious weeds. I IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 465 As lower beings by culture are improved, So, by the same means, is the race of man; Since, by the same laws, his being is controlled. To improve his plants no pains the florist spares; And on his blooded stock the racing sportsman Grudges not to spend his time and millions, That he may see one brute outspeed another But by the measure of a second's time, — While the creative law he disregards Which to his owrt offspring their being gives! When man shall learn to heed the voice of Reason; To seek for pleasure in the path of Wisdom; That o'er-indulgence bears a deadly sting, And selfish pleasure ever brings a curse — And when he further learns that purest pleasure Springs from unselfish acts of kindness done,— That no human being independent is, Or can himself divorce from Nature's laws, — Then will dawn the day millennial, foreseen By ancient seer, when guilt and crime will cease On earth, and it may be a Paradise! STUDENT. Could not man so by Nature have been formed As to be free from the besetting ills Which on life's journey him so sorely scourge That oft he lays the heavy burden down. And seeks repose in self-destruction ? ANCIENT ONE. If beings by special act created were, As forms of beauty are from marbles wrought. And pictures bright are on the canvas drawn, — Then might a rose be born without a thorn; A rosy cloud without a stagnant pool, (From whence it sprang to greet the morning sun); Then, man on earth, might be an angel born! But Nature ever works by laws progressive. As everywhere is shown, where'er we look. 466 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. In highest regions of extremest Hght, And where Cimmerian gloom in darkness sleeps, Eternal silence dwells in dreamless rest. Between these extremes is found all active life! No picture e'er was wrought with light alone, Nor can the brow of night be darker made; All paintings are by color-contrast wrought, And moral pictures must show light and shade. If man created were in highest realm, Where no shade of sorrow e'er upon him fell. Then Hope would never sing; nor gentle Pity E'er sigh and shed a tear on Sorrow's head; Nor soft-eyed Charity, with gentle hand, E'er soothe the suffering sons of want. Nought of the angelic virtues could he know Which now adorn and grace his moral nature; Hence, to make him perfect as a moral being, The furnace must be passed of suffering. STUDENT. Then, the apparent discords found on earth Do not disturb the sounding harmonies Which ever roll from Nature's mighty anthem > ANCIENT ONE. No more than does the falling autumn leaf Disturb the motion of this rolling orb! Or raindrop on the ocean's heaving breast Affect the flowing of its mighty tides! The rolling orb obeys unchanging law; It wakes the morn and shuts the eye of day, And brings the seasons at their proper times; And, in obedience to inherent law. The wandering atom finds its appointed place:— In Nature's deepest caves of darkest night; In fiery vortex of an embryo world, Or 'mid the ruins of a worn-out orb; In sulphurous flames, or locked in polar ice; IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 467 In raging storm, or on the evening breeze; In rugged oak, or in the blooming rose; In serpent's fang, or in the sage's brain, — Impelled by its inherent spirit-life. It ever still its upward course pursues Towards the all-embracing Source of Life, Where forms are lost in all-reposing Oneness! As sap ascends from root to emerald leaf To give the blooming flower its life and beauty,— As from the heart the crimson current flows And to the body gives its life and strength,— And as the solar beams give life and shape To all material forms, wherever found, — From glowing Hermes, on the solar skirts, To far-off" Neptune, in his wintry sphere, — So the Infinite Source of life and being From unapproach^d realms of purest light. Where no finite being can self-conscious dwell. Gives life and form to all that being has! From this Infinite Source no discord springs, More than from Truth sublime is Falsehood born, Or that from purest light can darkness spring. San Francisco, 1891. 468 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. CONVERSATION VII. STUDENT AND ANCIENT ONE. STUDENT. One question more I fain would ask of thee, O dweller of sublimest realms! Where ends the onward journey of the soul, Beyond the confines of its earthly life ? Still onward is its upward flight, until Identic being is forever lost In an infinite ocean; and is such The end of conscious being ? ** ANCIENT ONE. Son of Earth! step by step hast thou been led Up to where this last question needs is asked. And which is needs the last that cafi be asked; Since nought the human mind can grasp beyond. While still it sojourns in the vales of earth. Now lend a listening ear, while I explain What I may know and thou canst comprehend Of soul-existence and the mysteries Of spirit incarnation. Pure, formless spirit ne'er created was. And hence it no beginning has nor end; Therefore, with reason, the Infinite Spirit Is symboUed by a perfect winged sphere. Since it nor ending nor beginning has — And, however viewed, it ever is the same; And, by however many planes divided is, Y^diCh. plane by a circle will bounded be; And infinite are the circles it contains. Now, look abroad wherever life is found! Through all the realms of Nature's universe — From lowest form to that of highest mould, From humble glowworm up to flaming sun, IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 469 From tiniest insect up to proudest man, And mark the myriad forms that there are seen! In all is spirit incarnation found, And all in form beginning have and end. The solar orb that lights the azure sky In light and form no more eternal is Than are the pictures of a midnight dream; And brow of sage will crumble into dust As does the meanest worm he treads upon! Where now the monstrous forms that peopled once The ancient oceans of primeval earth ? They all have passed away, nor record left. Save what is found in the historic rock. Yet lived they not in vain; but just as well Their task performed in Nature's workshop vast As moral beings of the highest form; Nor perished has the life that bade them toil, A dwelling to prepare for higher forms, — But active is, in other forms of being. Some end to reach in Nature's fixed design. All forms their circles of existence have, In which they move, some labor to perform In Nature's lab'ratory of Creation; Which, when accomplished is, the form itself ' To implement of higher use is changed. Observe the circling being of the plant: From seed is born the stem, and leaf, and flower; And from \\\q flower is born again the seed! And this completes the being of the plant — No higher can it reach in form. The seed To earth returns, another plant to form! From seed to stem, and branch, and leaf, and flower (The fragrant cradle of an embryo plant), Thus it fulfils the object of its being — Food to prepare for higher forms of life. Upon a tender leaf the winged moth Its offspring leaves, in shape of tiny ^^'g — 470 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. The summer sunbeams on it fall, and lo! A worm is born, which feeds upon the leaf- As worm, it lives its full appointed time. At end of which it weaves a fitting shroud. In which (as worm) it sleeps the sleep of death; But to again be born as butterfly! A while to sport upon the summer breeze; To leave an embryo of its kind, and die; And thus the circle of its being ends. It reached in form perfection of its kind, And could no higher climb the scale of being In fragile form of gaudy butterfly. And thus it is with all organic forms Below the realms where Reason holds her court; They reach in form perfection, greater far Than e'er is found among the race of man. Nor in organic life alone is seen The workings of this universal law: Waked by the beams of the all-ruling sun, The viewless vapors from the ocean rise Towards the azure of the arching heavens! The cloud is born; the forked lightnings flash; The thunder speaks, and bids the cloud descend In showers of rain upon the thirsty earth; The mountain streams are formed, and rivers flow, Which seek the bosom of the mighty deep, In which, for a time, they in sleep are lost,— But to be born anew as vapory cloud! STUDENT. The lower orders of creation, then. Are not endowed with spirit-life that lives Beyond the limits of their earthly being ? ANCIENT ONE. No spirit-Hfe, or force, was ever lost; Nor was material essence e'er destroyed; For in essential being all eternal is; IMA GINAR y CONVERSA TIONS. 47 1 KvAform alone, by change, will pass away As melts the cloud upon the summer sky. Matter but a condition is of what In essence as eternal is 2iS force ; But countless are the forms which it may take, As pictured language of Eternal Thought Expressed by incarnation in material forms. The humblest creature in the scale of being Is warmed by all-pervading spirit-life, And with thought endowed to suit its nature; Whether it be instinct called or reason. It nought affects the workings of the law; And this eternal is as loftiest thought That lights a sage's or an angel's brow. Like all the humbler offspring of the earth, Man, too, his circle of existence runs; Which, though it bounded is, is vaster far Than that of aught below him, born of earth ; For he has reached the realm of moral being, And Reason sheds her light upon his brow! All being in the realm of Soul or Passion Must active periods have, and of repose : A night of rest succeeds a day of toil; At eve the fiow'ret folds its leaves, and sleeps; Cold Winter bids the Summer rest from toil, And man in silent slumber seeks repose. Man, therefore, his circle has of 'moral being; Since he at last must reach a point where Hope Will fall asleep upon Fruition's breast; Will cease to sing, and point with rosy hand To some still brighter future; and gentle Love No longer bid him seek companionship — Then, for a time, the soul must fall asleep, To wake again in some inferior realm, — And, incarnated in material life. Again inform express infnite thought ! 472 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. STUDENT. How long, as measured by the years of time, Will this progressive journey occupy ? Or can it measured be by finite mind ? ANCIENT ONE. Mnemosyne, with her recording pen. No record e'er has made of time so long; Nor measure can the highest number known The period vast as marked by solar time. The end is reached — when nothing lies beyond To onward lead the mind in search of knowledge! The end is reached— -wh^n backward looks the soul O'er the tremendous journey it has passed, And marks the lower forms in which it dwelt In its ascent towards the realms of light! The end is reached— v^hen quickened Memory Looks down the vista of the aeons past, And recalls eternities of being Since last it stood upon the soundless shore Of that Infinite Deep where all is still — Where longings cease, and passion falls asleep, And where no finite being e'er can dwell And conscious be of moral attributes. STUDENT. This, then, is nought but cold annihilation, If perish all the moral attributes — If Love, and Hope, and every passion die — This, then, is end of individual being, And the soul is, therefore, not immortal ? ANCIENT ONE, When earth is curtained by the shades of night, In sleep her weary children seek repose; The flower folds its leaves, and bird and beast Forget the past in silent slumbers deep, Again to wake to life at morning's dawn! IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 473 In sleep profound, the past is all forgot, Though last the slumber for a thousand years ! Or for the hours of a summer's night — 'Tis to the dreamless sleeper all the same; Since to his mind has not one moment passed. For time alone is marked by changing scenes ; WhQYG /orm/ess silence reigns no time exists. When ended is the term of earthly life, And worn the body is with toil and age, Comes then the night of death to earthly life; The transient night of dreamless sleep, from which The soul awakes, as wakes the winged moth When from the chrysalis 't is born anew. And, with renewed form and record made In earthly life, it finds its proper place; Just as the fleecy cloud will take its place In the clear azure of the summer sky! Therefore, the restful sleep sought by the soul At end of cycles vast of moral being No more eternal is than is the sleep The weary toiler seeks at set of sun. STUDENT. Among the many races of mankind. And 'mong those who to the same race belong, Are grades of intellectual moral being: Some are wise and good, and some are foolish ; Some pleasure take in acts of charity, — While some delight in acts of cruel wrong; Some wealth and earthly honors seek, and some Delight to tread the path that leads to knowledge. In the beyond how will adjusted be The lots of those who thus have lived on earth ? ANCIENT ONE. The moth by Nature is supplied with wings. On which to sport upon the summer breeze! When ended is its humble life as worm. It sports its fleeting heaven away, and dies — 474 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. Its spirit-life then takes another form In strict obedience to imperious law. But man has reached the scale of moral being, And must his future for himself prepare; He has no wings, as has the summer moth, On which to reach a paradise of flowers; He has no wings, save those of Thought Divine, On which to reach the home of Truth and Beauty! If while a dweller on the earthly plane He well improve his time, and learn to soar On wings of thought to higher realms than earth, — Then, when he breaks the prison bars of Time, By force of law attractive he '11 ascend To realms for which he has himself prepared; Just as the rising mist will seek its place As rosy cloud, and find specific rest. But if man, while he sojourns here on earth, Ne'er look above the sensual plane of being. But spend his time in seeking sensual pleasures, — In gathering wealth, and in pursuit of fame. Alone to gratify a vain ambition, — Then, when he 's run his selfish race on earth, And is compelled to leave his household gods, — He '11 reach the place for which he 's best prepared- Just as water, when on the ground 'tis poured, Will find its natural and specific level. This is as certain as decrees of Fate; By law imperious will his soul be bound In sensual chains, which he himself has forged, And which, not e'en by Mercy, can broken be; For Justice ne'er the voice of Mercy heeds. STUDENT. And is there no redemption then for those Who, while on earth, have failed to cultivate The wings of Thought Sublime, on which to soar To the high realms where Love and Beauty dwell ? IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 475 Are they in darkness ever doomed to dwell Without the power to seek for higher things ? ANCIENT ONE. The spark divine that animates the soul, Though it be dimmed by vice and low desire, Is never in eternal darkness quenched; For that which is divine is never lost! No human soul can reach the realm sublime Where Wisdom reigns and Love and Beauty dwell Unsullied by the stains of earthly life, Until it is itself as pure as is that realm. When one has spent his three-score years and ten Of life upon the sensual plane alone, Has wallowed in the pool of beastly lusts, Has cruel been, and lived for self alone, — Has laurels won deep-dyed in human blood And stained with widows' and with orphans' tears — Though a demigod be he in mental power, — When his proud empire he is forced to leave. He, like a scourged hound, will trembling go Down to the realms of gloom, with all the debt Which he against hiynself recorded has In the relentless book of Justice stern— And there remain, till by himself alone To the last farthing shall the debt be paid. From this just law no being can escape; Nor can the debt be paid by other hand Than that of him who did the debt contract; But when the debts by credits balanced are. Then the redeemed soul will upward rise Towards the home of Love Divine! STUDENT. Canst tell how long the one thus self-condemned Is doomed to dwell in that remorseful gloom. Ere he may expiate the wrongs he wrought While dwelling on the earthly plane of life? 476 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS, ANCIENT ONE. Degrees there are of moral turpitude — Where little grain is sown, light is the harvest; And if none be sown, none can then be reaped. The one endowed with lofty powers of mind, Who from effect can reason back to cause. And who from cause can prophesy effect, Can darker crimes and greater wrongs commit Than can the one of low and brutal nature; And, hence, the debt will ever measured be By the moral nature of the debtor. No one can tell the time it may require Beyond the limits of the earthly sphere For a degraded soul to cleanse itself From the slimy filth it may have gathered In its prior forms of life incarnate; Or what penance it may have to suffer, Or further incarnations doomed to pass Ere it be fit to take a higher form. And dwell where nought is found to soil the robes That Truth and Beauty wear in realms sublime! But however long the toilsome journey be, It must be trod ere the high goal is reached, Where, cleansed from all the stains of earthly life^ The self-redeemed soul will find a home Where angels dwell. STUDENT. Then spirit incarnation is a truth, And it may be repeated oft ? ANCIENT ONE. The soul can never the conditions reach Of abstract spirit and still its passions keep; More than can picture e'er be wrought or thought Can be expressed without material aid; Or dwellers of the deep can breathe the air Made vocal by the songs of summer birds; IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 477 And all incarnated being needs must Seasons have of active life, and so-called death, Which but a semblance is of gentle sleep. Where'er we look, in all material realms, All forms exist through spirit incarnation ; And since matter, in essence, is eternal, And form is but result of incarnation, — 'Tis manifest that spirit incarnations May as countless be, and as varied, too, As are the pictures wrought by light and shade, Or by the notes from chords of music born; And that they may repeated be as long As spirit-life exist, which manifest is made Through all organic forms, wherever found: The bloom that tints the blushing rose may once Have given the sunset cloud its golden hue; And sound that 's born from the ^olian chord May once have waked a Homer's epic lyre. Or echoed been in hymn by angel sung! And, therefore, incarnation is a law Of moral being, from which there 's no escape. The loftiest dweller of sublimest realms. Whose soul possesses moral attributes An incarnation is of spirit-life; And in the lower realms of being, too. Is incarnation seen, where'er we look — The rose a spirit has that gives it form, ' As has the loftiest individual being Who from effect can reason back to cause. How many incarnations there may be Of spirit-life that gives the rose its form Ere the realm be reached of abstract spirit. Not I can say, nor thou couldst comprehend. STUDENT. Thy teachings, Ancient One (whoe'er thou art), Have shed some rays of Hght upon my mind. Dimly to comprehend I now begin Such mysteries of life and so-called death. 478 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. And of the mechanism of creation, As can be grasped, or one should seek to learn While shrouded in the mists of earth : That, in essence, all being is eternal ; That ever-changing forms expressions are Of all-pervading and infinite mind. Which spirit is of all that being has; — That time, and place, and force, and good, and ill, Do not exist, save in connection with Material forms which, in essence, are eternal; That every moral attribute of soul. And every atom in material form, Are portions of the universal whole — And hence that spirit and material form Exist together, and eternal are in essence! ANCIENT ONE. Such are the truths sublime that Reason teaches, As may be learned whene'er we wisely read What has been clearly writ in Nature's book. All forms material limits have and bounds; But no prison bars can chain Eternal Thought, Nor aught can clip the wings on which it flies, — Or fix a limit to its empire wide, Save coward Fear, or Superstition's chains — Its empire lies where'er its wings have power To bear it onward in the search of truth; And as its wings increase in strength by use, Its empire widens and extends its bounds! All forms material change and pass away, As changing clouds upon the summer sky; They fade from sight, and ne'er are seen again, — But Thought Eternal is, as Law, — divine. What though at last must end the circle vast Of moral being! At that transcendent point, The warder, Memory, backward looks, and knows IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 479 That there, in aeons past, it stood before; And Thought Immortal tells ^2i\. yet again In some far future it there will conscious be; And, if e'en at 07ie point in the cycle vast, The past be all recalled — the whole circle seen — Then is nothing lost and being is eternal ! seeker of the Truth! now close thine eyes. And in a dreamy trance shalt thou behold A VISION OF THE INFINITE. As if in sleep, 'neath the curtains of night, My spirit was borne to a region of light, Where breeze never blows, nor rain ever falls, Where Hope never sings, nor Love ever calls. 1 stood at a point, in the circle sublime, Where no shadow is cast on the dial of Time; Where \}ciQpast and the presefit are mingled in one, — Where one cycle of being eternal has run! As I glanced down the deep, with an all-seeing eye, To the realms where forms are born but to die, — To a region of change, of sunshine, and shade. Where the leaves of summer in autumn must fade, — I saw the bright galaxies of planets and suns That mark off the aeons of time as it runs. And sound through the depths of the infinite sea The minutes and the hours of eternity. My ear caught the rhythm as it floated afar From the bright rolling orb, and the clear-chiming star. Till it mingled with the song that the wild waters sing, And the quick, humming sound of the insect's wing! I felt the bright waves of effulgence that roll From the pulses that spring from the Infinite Soul, Which down to the deeps of the lowest profound, Is the life of all form, and the soul of all sound! 48o IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. The past was unrolled— and, clear to my eye, Was spread out the record of aeons gone by; I saw all the forms through which I had passed, In the circle of one day, which was ended at last. Bright Hope was asleep— all passion was gone— My being was left with Thought all alone, In that dread region of silence and light Where no shadow e'er falls from the black wing of Night. Overwhelmed with the silence, I hungered again For the region where pleasure is mingled with pain; Where the sunshine of joy is shaded by sorrow, And Hope ever sings of some brighter to-morrow! With a will almighty, in slumbers to sink, Of the waters of Lethe I thought me to drink, That»a sleep of repose and rest I might take — In an embryo form again to awake In some lower realm of sunshine and storm Where thought takes a shape and passion has form; But ere the cup I could drink, the dream fled away In the bright, rosy beams that waked the young day! City of Mexico, 1892. 649 . V .- vx^' ^'M^r. 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