LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©^p. ©WW 1" 12^3 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. s \N A, STRAY CHORDS BY JULIA R. ANAGNOS. BOSTON: CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY, ©ItJ Corner iSookstore. 1883. w'. %' Copyright, by CUPPLES, Upham and Company, ELECTROTYPED. BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 4 PEARL STREET. r CONTENTS. PAGE Greece g The Deaf Beethoven 7 Burial of the Last Doge 10 -The Minute-Man 12 The Heroine (France) 14 The Bride (Italy) . . . • 16 Goethe Finishing Wilhelm Meister 18 A Greek Vase 19 Consolation 20 Gratitude 21 Hawthorne 23 The Puritans 24 The Wreck of the Steamer "Princess Alice" ... 25 Conflagration (Boston, 1872) 29 Sleep 32 Waking 33 Warrior's Drinking Song . Warrior's Love Song Eighteen Hundred and Fifteen 36 Retrospection 39 To Art 41 To POESV 43 The Doge's Daughter 44 The Crown 47 Song 48 11 CONTENTS. The Painter's Hour 50 The Blood Orange 52 The Forget-me-not 55 The Opal 59 Ole Bull 61 To Marcia 63 The Lily's Requieum 64 Violets 65 The Bard to the Rose-tree 66 The Singer 68 P^AN 70 Resignation 71 Barcarolle 72 To the Loved One 73 Toast 74 Influence 75 Friendship 76 BVRON 78 St. Helena 80 Peace 83 Hymn 84 Pearls 86 The Centennial 88 Jeanne D'Arc 89 Aspiration 92 'Marie Antoinette 93 The Cross 95 The Saxons 97 The Window with Climbing Vines 98 The Pilgrim 99 Night Thoughts loi Travel 102 Progress 103 CONTENTS. Ill The Vision of the Muse 104 The Burial of Alaric 106 The Nun's Hymn 108 Dirge 109 Chimes AT Midnight iii -Goethe 113 Memnon TO THE Sun 114 Rest 115 The Poet's Palace 116 Parted 118 The New Artemis 120 Death of Miss Starr 122 The ^OLiAN Harp 123 Night 125 The Gem 127 The Truth 128 Joy .129 Equality 131 Beauty . . 133 Protest 134 The Nun 135 Youth to Age 136 Age to Youth 138 Peace Hymn 140 An Old Enterprise 142 Boston Harbor 144 Farewell 146 STRAY CHORDS. GREECE. Oh, say not that Hellas hath sunk in the ocean, And left but her foam on the shroud of the sea ; She still lives in beauty, in strength, and devotion ; She still breathes wherever her children are free ! She speaks in their numbers, she moves in their measures. She glows in their feelings so kindly and true. Nor fuller her breast of Antiquity's treasures Than they of brave impulse to dare and to do. Yes ! Grecians in action, and Grecians in spirit, And Grecians in love for their dear Motherland, — Old Salamis' skill still her seamen inherit. And Marathon's might may be seen on her strand. 5 6 STRAY CHORDS. The wisdom of Athens, the firmness of Sparta, Yet gleam in her race with unquenchable ray ; With bosoms whose daring shames not the old valor, They stand in the East like the children of Day. Oh words that still teach us ! Oh breath of the sages ! How sweet o'er the aeons your echo to hear, That tells us, who climb through the long, lonely ages, The day of the poets and gods still is near. The tread of old Time and his brother, the Moslem, Crushed only the chaff, though so fiercely they strove : Oh, nought but the breath of great Zeus e'er could banish The smile of the Past from the land of her love ! Yes ! Sound for us still, deathless fame of the heroes. And strophes of beauty, sound still o'er the deep ; Oh, Poets, still fire us ! Oh, great ones, inspire us, — It needs more than Time to sing Hellas to sleep ! THE DEAF BEETHOVEN. He sits like Memnon, turned to stone, Yet breathing notes of glory, Strong as old Vulcan's hammer-strokes, Sweet as the swan's last story ! He cannot feel the mighty thrill That sways us at his gifting, — The thunder-echoes of his will The world to rapture lifting ; He cannot taste the glowing cup His hand for us is pouring; He cannot with those wings rise up On which he sends us soaring. Strange Providence ! to crown us all And leave the king bareheaded, To rouse us at a deaf man's call, And he to Silence wedded! STRAY CHORDS. Yet it is thus and ever thus, — The glory is in giving : Those monarchs taste a deathless joy- That agonized while living. Great Tantalus, go quench thy thirst At fountains sempiternal. Where broken hearts need never burst, And all the year is vernal ! A temple fair, not made with hands, Such was on earth thy building, — A house not set on garish sands, Nor marred with foolish gilding. Its walls colossal marches are. Its steps sonatas golden. Its vaults the boundless symphonies Whereby the stars are holden ! Can Phidias o'ermatch thy feat t Amphion cannot reach it. Nor Orpheus, with all his love, Nor blazing Sappho teach it. STRAY CHORDS. Gigantic architect of sound ! Sublime though stricken mortal, — Heaven closed thine ears to all around, And oped to thee its portal. The tones seraphic streaming thence Are ours for now and ever; Then let us praise thy glorious gift Till all our heartstrings sever ! BURIAL OF THE LAST DOGE. A VENETIAN DIRGE. Drop the ring ! Lay the corse ! Venice is no longer ! Death is death and force is force, Yield we to the stronger. Nuptial torch and fun'ral pile This year come together : The sea may smile a glassy smile, We look for bitter weather ! The sable tent, for pleasure bent, May glide along the water ; Our rowers row, our sunset glow, — But oh, for Glory's daughter! 'Tis her dust, that blends with his, Here at last we bury ; Let the deep their secret keep While our crowds are merry. STRAY CHORDS. II Yes, 'twill out, with a shout, — Venice is no longer ! Wars shall wage, tempests rage, Guided by the stronger. Come up, Tide, once our bride Cover deep our weakness. Better hide, i' th' shroud of pride. Than live in robes of meekness. Idly we, grim must see Fleets to triumph sailing ; Though our fame turn to shame, None shall hear our wailino:. 'O* Silence, all ! Ocean's pall Cannot veil our falling : Sit we down, doff the crown. Hear the echoes calling : Drop the ring ! Lay the corse ! Venice is no longer ! Death is death and force is force. Yield we to the stronger ! THE MINUTE-MAN. French's statue at concord. He left his life that we might live, He gave us all was his to give, — His home, his fame, his child, his wife, And fell amid the sacred strife. And if that strife should come again, — That clarion call to blood and pain, — He from his grave would rise once more, And drive the foeman from our shore. And as he leans upon the plough. Fire in his eyes, wrath on his brow, He 'minds us that our holy war Now wages on a distant shore.' There, where the Moslem smites the slave. There, where the Christian finds his grave, • Their minute-men renew the strife For blessed liberty and life ! 1 Published at the time of the Russo-Turkish war. 12 STRAY CHORDS. 13 They are the vanguard of the World, As Greece was, when her glove was hurled. And as all lands in turn shall be. Till the earth ring with Liberty ! THE HEROINE. Fate spoke the dark word, and the Nation, in agony, Bowed to the tyrant who sought but her death, — Gave her best heart's-blood to burnish his pageantry, Swelled his full sails with her rattlino- breath. Dark was the hour when the mockers of Liberty Slew her sweet spirit, and left but its shroud ; Dark was the day when the Caesar of centuries Shrank to his isle like a thunder-charged cloud : Fateful the fever that burned in her arteries, Mighty the madness that shook the world's core. When, like a giant, o'erborne in his magnitude, Monarchy sank, to oppress her no more ! These are thine episodes, France, and a century Clasps them together about thy frail form : Wonder ! I see thee all blooming with happiness, Bright as the rainbow that smiles at the storm. 14 STRAY CHORDS. 1 5 Give US thy calm ! Like a beacon benignantly Shines it to fill all the nations with cheer ; Hardly-earned halcyons who would withhold from thee ? None who hold meekness and fortitude dear ! THE BRIDE. Magician, Memory ! be my guide ; Give me thy master hand, And bring me to the artist's bride, The golden painter-land ! Thou lead'st me, awestruck, through her halls. Dazed, as when there I stood ; Thou show'st me, radiant from their walls, Color's beatitude. How vain are they who whisper low Thy charm, bright Land, is dead. And, with the fetters worn so long, Thy beauty too hath fled. As gracefully those chains were worn As jewels by the fair. Yet bright as rubies was the morn That showed they were not there ! i6 STRAY CHORDS. 1 7 Fairer than pearls the lovely neck On which the iron lay ; Happier than heaven the hero-hands That rent the yoke away ! War-winds may rend aside thy veil Of mediaeval haze ; The orange-wreath still shrouds thy brow, With loveliness ablaze. Tempests but clear the Time-thick air, To bid thee longer breathe ; Thus freedom-crowned, thou art more fair ; Our proud age shall bequeath Thee, saved, unto Posterity, Perennial with light : Decay unclasps his hold on thee, And folds his wings of night ! GOETHE FINISHING WILHELM MEISTER. Go on, Old Man, and tell the withered story ! The royal chaff is better than our corn ; And, though the tale have lost Romance's glory, It shines with glimpses of a better morn. Weary we wade through fields of languid fiction, Sigh with relief to reach each bound'ry-stone, Yet pray the echo of thy magic diction To linger still, nor leave us quite alone. Too long thou lived'st, to be merely mortal : Poised on the barrier sang the parting soul ; Yet joy we in these echoes of the portal. Ere thou wert merg^ed in the Eternal Whole ! A GREEK VASE. Poor little fragile, pleading clay ! Yet weaker is our own, That 'neath Time's finger melts away. While thou endurest on, — Telling the ages grim a tale Of household life and cheer ; The precious drops thou once did'st hold Make thy slight form still dear. How shall it be, when ours are laid Within the shielding mould .? Oh ! shall the spirit all be spilled Which these frail vases hold ? Or shall they run to swell a stream Of perfect, deathless love, — The river of the sacred dream. The Heaven-flood above ? CONSOLATION. The angel that stooped o'er the Valley of Death, And blew in a hope like a violet's breath, Is now by the blue sea, long acres away, And I would she were here, as she was on that day ! The fair Adriatic of Venice may boast, The lovely ^Egean caress her own coast ; But the strand of all strands that is dearest to me. Is the one where my angel beholds the blue sea ! Oh ! could it all turn to one violet vast. And breathe out a scent that forever should last. It would be no sweeter than that single breath Which my angel dropped down in the Valley of Death ! V GRATITUDE. Crown the altar high with lilies, String the harp with rows of pearl. Heap the roses on the goblet, — All your brightest flags unfurl ! Love hath made the world and kept it, Love will help it onward move : When it slumbered, Love protected ; When it wakened, there was Love, — Smiling o'er the giant cradle Where Posterity lay hushed. Raising men to stir and kindle When Humanity was crushed ; Soothing on the field of battle. Rousing 'mid the halls of ease ; Healing 'neath the cannon's rattle, Wounding but to cure disease ; 22 STRAY CHORDS. Urging onward and restraining, Quenching but to light again, Building with Destruction's chisel, Healing by the touch of Pain ! Giant storm and genial rainbow, Chilling snows and tropic heats, All renew the raptured paean, Each the happy tale repeats. Pearly Dawn and tender Evening, Blazing Noon and Morning's rose. Love hath made the world and kept it. Love will love it to its close ! HAWTHORNE. In colors new, Like early dew, He dips his magic brush, To give us flowers Fair and few, 'Mid the early forest's hush. At his silken loom He doth weave the gloom And joy of those olden days, And throws o'er all his own wild bloom. Or a veil of golden haze. What guerdon rare shall our hearts prepare, Magician mild, for thee .'* At thy misty shrine let our tapers shine, Dimly but gratefully. 23 THE PURITANS. Honor to Thought that would not stoop To compromise with Form ! Honor to Faith that could not droop In Persecution's storm ! Our steps are yours ; but mountains Have sprung where plains ye trod : You built the bridge to Freedom, And we go on to God. 24 THE WRECK OF THE STEAMER "PRINCESS ALICE." Go down, fair ship ! How soon shall she That named thee share thy fate, And pass from earthly dignity To joys without a date ! Go down, fair ship ! The tears of all Blend with the swelling brine, That spreads around its mournful pall To swallow thee and thine ! Go down, fair form ! Thy land may call Thee by a royal name ; But loving are the hearts of all That knew thy gentle fame : The tender mother-hand that led The well-loved children on, The heart that lent to woman's weal The radiance of her crown ; 25 26 STRAY CHORDS. The honest thought, the noble mind, The face so sweet and grave, — Like you, fair ship, in mem'ry shrined. Sink 'neath the weeping wave. Oh, crowns are gay and banners brave, And hearts are glad and light ; But Death's dark ocean rears its wave, And veils them from our sight. A mighty Mother cannot save Her cherished child from doom ; She yields her to the mightier grave, While life is yet abloom. Yet happier, is it not, to part While all we love is ours .? — Ere the first blossoms of the heart Yield to pale Winter's flowers .^ The bridal wreath, the mother's crown, The gentle sovereign's sway. With sweet obedience she laid down. And trod the heavenly way. STRAY CHORDS. 2^ There stars the household tapers burn Of heaven's serener home, And there our loved ones in turn, To claim our kindred come ; There crowns of holier happiness Await the martyr's brow ; There mourners reap the farewell kiss That is denied them now . O Mother ! 'Tis not now the seas That part thee from thy love : 'Tis Azrael, mightier than these ; Then turn thine eyes above ! O children ! Angel joys await The form that late was yours, Whose gentle shadow o'er your lives Must fall from far-off shores. O spouse ! O Nation ! Wedded joys And gentle state must cease ; The brightest of poor Earth's alloys Were dim to heavenly peace. 2S STRAY CHORDS. O Ship ! O Lady ! Fare, farewell, 'Mid sighs and laurels perished ! All tender hearts their griefs shall tell For the beloved and cherished ! CONFLAGRATION. BOSTON, 1872. All crowned with snakes, the direful Queen In raiment fierce comes on : Medusa's coronet, when seen, Turns all our hearts to stone. Look ! eyes of coal and topaz hair, The raging fiend draws near : Her smile benumbs us with its glare, And half subdues our fear. The heart amazed can scarce give thought To earthly life and breath ; The demon dread her work has wrought With the grim might of Death. Incendiaries are thy priests. Thine altars are our homes. Thy sacrifice our fireside feasts. And stores of priceless tomes. 29 30 STRAY CHORDS. Oh quench, oh slake ! Some respite take To still thy cruel thirst ! Must all our lifeblood be the stake, Or e'er the charm can burst ? There is no pity in the tread Wherewith she dances measure Bacchantic o'er our hearthstones dead. And graves of every treasure. Like Indian writhing in his wrath A dance of horrid glee, Flame-painted, she enwhirls our path With hissing minstrelsy. With smoky scourge, with deathless torch. With arms wild brandishing, — See ! marble takes dark midnight's hue, 'Mid their grim blandishing. Oh ! be it ours to save the home Of honors fresh and hoary. Nor perish meanly at the tomb Of all our early glory ! STRAY CHORDS. 31 In chains we'll lead Death's monster-queen, Stifle her hungry raging, Trample upon her haughty mien, And quench the war she's waging ! SLEEP. Come, gentle death of Care and Sorrow ! Rock us to a new to-morrow ! Bankrupts in Life's tear and turmoil, We thy recompense would borrow. Never thou withhold'st allayment, Cioth'st the mind in softer raiment Than the worn rags of her toiling. Dim with labor's rust and soiling. Thy soft touch dispels each wound ; In our ear thy pinions sound, Like a nurse's gentle tale. Stifling quick the infant's wail. We, thy children, dazed and straying. For thy soft Good-Night are praying ; Mother Mild, give us thy blessing 'Mid the moonbeams' soft caressing, As down Lethe's restful tide In the boat of dreams we glide. 32 WAKING. Come, precious Morning, gift of God ! Black Night, I flee from thee. Like daisy striigghng through the sod To light and liberty. The crystal dome of yon pure sky Is filled with sudden rays, And, like the lark, I'd soar on high, To seek the fount of Days ! The downy curtains of dull Sleep Are drawn aside for me : Farewell, ye shades, that dew-drops weep, Day brings hilarity ! 33 WARRIOR'S DRINKING SONG. I DRINK strong wine and live again, I lose my woes, I lose my pain : Old youth goes coursing through each vein As I drink strong wine and live again ! On water white let younglings live, O'er milk let chicken-hearts forgive ; But pour me the war-cup's bloody rain, Till I drink the strong wine and live again ! A giant race hath giant lips, A clan of pigmies feebly sips ; Hail to the red moon ere she wane ! Drink the strong wine and live again ! Ere they reap peace we war must sow, Ere they wear fleece we arms must show. Forward, my heroes ! All is gain : Drink the strong wine and live again ! 34 WARRIOR'S LOVE SONG. Oh, be my love a gleaming torch, To light the way to glory ; Let all my heart's warm drops stand forth, And write the glowing story ! • Oh, be my love a soothing lyre, To lull my breast to slumber, Beside the bivouac's lurid fire, When Death doth comrades number ! Oh, be my love a rapid bow. To shoot the heart that scorns me ; And be my love a fun'ral glow. To soothe the soul that mourns me ! i8i5. Veil thine eye, Imperial Eagle, For the sun of glory's low ; Sluggish plain and snowy mountain, Blood-red bathing in its glow. Stifle, Violet, thy perfume ; Golden Bee, thy hum forget : For the conqueror has vanished. And the Allied Ones are met. Let on ev'ry field of battle. Did his mighty magic see; Crimson flowers upspringing, startle. Taxing fickle Victory. Wingless, did the Hellenes call her.!* Faithless, froward she 's, and weird ; Never on the world's dark canvas, Have such scenes as these appeared. 36 STRAY CHORDS. 37 Austerlitz, Marengo, Jena \ Ye could tell another tale Than Bellerophon now hearkens Underneath his sinkino: sail. 'fc» Whisper low, lest spirits hear it, That drew all their pride from thee ; Lest thy martial dead should listen, Lose their immortality. Ah ! ye all must shine and vanish, — Mighty comet, tiny star; But the century cannot banish Traces of her god of War. Yes ! The giant footsteps linger, While thou fad'st behind the sea : E'en thy foemen, closely clutching. Own the good they got from thee. Gratitude 's a lesson never To be learned by mortal man : Yet must rev'rence fill forever Eyes, thine earthly works that scan. 38 STRAY CHORDS. And, say, what shall be thy workin< In a further, brighter sphere ? Mighty be the spirit's pinions That o'ershadowed us e'en here. RETROSPECTION. TO CHARLES SUMNER. Integrity did seek a form Fit for her perfect shrine, Colossal to oppose the storm Of modern greed — 'twas thine ! The wretched, torn, and naked slave Cried for a soul divine, The oppressor's blinded wrath to brave With Virtue's calm — 'twas thine ! Wisdom desired a lover firm, True to each tryst and sign, A heart wherein her smallest germ To harvests grew — 'twas thine ! The Nation asked a mighty son. All honors to combine ; A life that should command the world To love and awe — 'twas thine ! 39 40 STRAY CHORDS. And oh, thy friends dream of a brow Which deathless bays should twine, And tones deep, genial, silent, now — Great Sumner, these were thine ! TO ART. Coy, flitting Maiden, prompt to flee At the first shadow of neglect, Rewarding e'en a thought of thee With brighter gems than ever decked The border of a monarch's robe : How gladly would I wed for aye, Thee, fairest empress of the globe, And yet as Dian wild and shy ! I grasp thy train : Thou proudly say'st My touch lacks earnestness and fire : I seek dull sleep, but thou dismays't My soul with fresh-awaked desire. Say, dost thou love me, or disdain ? Speak, — shall I ever clasp thy hand ? Vanishing, wilt thou come again ? Near, shall I trust the subtle band 41 42 STRAY CHORDS. Which ties and breaks and binds again Inspiring trust, despair, and joy? Say, Art, am I thy trusted swain, Or but caprice's savage toy ? She 's mute ! Or, sullen or amused. She turns her head without reply. Say, am I but a swain abused, Or is she mine eternally ? TO POESY. Wing of the white dove, bear me away ! For the earth is dull and asleep to-day : My friends are false and my foes are strong, Fain would I lose my grief in song. There, where our lost are forever found, There, where the sick are forever sound, There, where no snow lies on the ground, — Thither, O Fair One ! let us be bound. Visions of youth that bloomed for me Faded too soon and bitterly, Friends that brought gifts youth could not prize. Smiling farewell with fading eyes. Flowers that I've worshipped and buds that I've bruised, Vines that I've gathered and birds that I've loosed. All that have perished, and all that were mine. Bring them again, O Dove divine ! 43 THE DOGE'S DAUGHTER. She was a Venetian Princess, and lived in the days of eld : A Marquis offered her goblet, a Signor her jewels held, A Noble sighed at her elbow, a Senator strove for her ear, — But oh ! 'twas the lonely Poet, — he loved her and loved her dear ! She was a Venetian Princess, and dwelt in the palace high; The winds and waves of the Lido, they fed her with melody ; Her father dreamed of a crownlet, the maiden dreamed of a veil ; But oh ! 'twas the Poet loved her, — he loved her and grew so pale ! She was a Venetian Princess, and often prayed to Saint Mark, Her gondolier was a-waiting where the moon kissed the waters dark ; 44 STRAY CHORDS. 45 She has crossed with the holy symbol, she has prayed at the altar high, Beware, O thou Doge's daughter, — the seal of thy life is niirh ! The prophets and saints in the gilding, they kindly smile on the maid ; She has passed from the sacred building, not happy, yet not afraid ; She has reached the whispering water, and her orders soft would tell : "Beware, O thou Doge's daughter, — this rower can sing as well ! " 'Tis he ! 'tis the fiery Poet, would bear her away o'er the wave ; Her life is sealed, she doth know it, and gives him her hand so brave. Yes ! Home is sweeter than fortune, and love is warmer than pride ! She has left the Dukes and their crownlets, to dwell by the Poet's side. She was a Venetian Princess, but her face was hid in her veil, And underneath the Palazzo her cheeks they grew deathfully pale ; 46 STRAY CHORDS. But away, now, thou lusty rower ! under the brightest of moons. To a shore that doth not know her, far from the old lagoons ! THE CROWN. [On sending to a funeral some flowers which had been gathered for a feast.] Go ! Grace a better scene than that For which I culled thy beauty ; I plucked thee for an hour of joy, And send thee forth to duty ! Bloom not where friends may smile and meet, And then half-coldly sever ; But deck her brow, who'll smile no more, Or else smile on forever. Thorns oft may crown Joy's costly cup. Within which woe is sleeping-, And grief hath its own ecstasy. And knows the bliss of weeping. Oh, brilliant tears ! Oh, bitter smile ! Oh, crown of joy and sorrow ! Let me but rest a little while, — I'll wear you on the morrow ! 47 SONG. SHE WAS MORE FAIR THAN BEAUTY. She was more fair than beauty, More exquisite than light, Sweet as a strain of music, More perfect than delight. And brighter than the rainbow. And fresher than the dew, Like honey were the numbers Upon her lips that grew. She was more mild than mercy, She was more true than truth, She was more firm than iron, She was more young than youth ; Than piety more tender. Than equity more straight, Than branching palms more slender, More resolute than fate. 48 STRAY CHORDS. 49 She was more gay than morning, She was more fresh than health, She was more dear than kindness. She was more rich than wealth. She smote upon her harpstring, She smote upon my heart : Fair Dunstan ! Lo, this anvil Is wax beneath thine art. But I have lived before thee, And I must live again : Since life must curtain o'er thee, Why swathe this soul in pain } Oh, hide thee from my glances, And vanish like a breath ! For to woo thee would be madness, And to give thee up is death ! THE PAINTER'S HOUR. Warm as rubies, fair as silver, Came the maid that gentle day : Blue was all her slender girdle. Blue bound back her ringlets gay. Dark her robe, how little recking, Long she'd wear that hue for him, Bade he turn her tender profile. Light without her eyes grew dim. O fair youth ! O fairest blossom ! Press, enjoy it while you may ; Swift comes Winter's malediction Upon Summer's harvests gay. Well he knew a year's swift passage Bore for him the last good-night ; Knew he could not take her with him. Her, his spirit's sole delight. 5° STRAY CHORDS. 5 I Oh ! But dearer far than heaven, Fairer than all joys he knew, Was the hour the maid stood by him. With her ringlets framed in blue. THE BLOOD ORANGE. I. Two fair fruit-trees stood together, Down in the South in the sunny weather, Together swayed in the loving blue, Together blossomed, together grew. Jewels bright they waved aloft. Held for the kiss of the breezes soft ; By the pomegranate's ruby round Nestling, the golden globe was found. The leaves they whisper, the leaves they tell That all is peaceful, and all is well : Hark to the Mid-sea's distant swell, And to the convent's gentle knell ; The breeze that sings its ballad soft To the rustle dim of the leaves aloft, The singing bees and the singing birds. And the kindly low of the high-horned herds. 52 STRAY CHOJ^DS. 53 II. Two fair children strayed together Down in the South in the sunny weather, — Together sported, together strove. Whispered their mirth to the tell-tale grove : Brightly their eyes' dark torches shine, And their young cheeks glow like the early wine, As, laughing, they fill their nut-brown hands With the fairy fruit for other lands. The rubies for homely thirsting are, But the orange must send its gems afar, — Far o'er the sea, o'er the swelling main, Where life is labor and pleasure vain : Thither the golden fruit must go. There must they shed their lovely glow. III. Red was the ruby fruit to the last, Like ruddy light upon jewels cast ; But the orange blushed on its cheek of gold, For the bye-gone bliss of the days of old, — Blushed for the blue of the Midland sea, Where the waves sport on so merrily ; 54 ST/? AY CHORDS. For the air that sang its ballad soft To the rustle dim of the boughs aloft ; For the kiss of the trees that grew together Down in the South in the sunny weather ! THE FORGET-ME-NOT. Those azure eyes and gentle lips And curls of pallid gold, Like prayer-beads upon finger-tips, Within our thoughts we hold. To count them off at Beauty's shrine But thy smile we cannot tell, For that, my dear, is scarcely thine, - 'Tis only heaven's All 's well ! Roll back the long curls with the tips of thy fingers, And shine out between them in azure surprise ! The sunlight of heaven on thy forehead still lingers, And there's more than all earth in the depths of thine eyes. Come out from the recess, come forth from the bower, Come out in the sunshine, my fairy and queen ! The whole earth concentred to bring forth one flower, And she was the sweetest that ever was seen ! 55 56 STRAY CHORDS. Oh, laugh ! let me hear thee, and let the long echo Roll back from the lake and the wood and the grove, Till the sturdy rocks melt with the joy to be near thee, And Winter's stiff self turn to Summer with love ! Shine out, my little, harmless star, Upon a withered, weary world ! Beam bright upon it from afar. With dimpled cheek and smile all pearled ! Oh, pluck the honey, charming bee. And leave the ugly thorns behind ; For all of us are sweet to thee. And nothing bitter shalt thou find. The flower thou gather'dst fell away. But all of us will bloom for thee, To turn thine early night to day. And make thee gleam eternally. STRAY CHORDS. $7 Oh speak, for I'm near thee, Oh sing, for I'll hear thee. Oh droop, for I'll cheer thee. My queen and my dove ! Oh frown, for I'll fear thee. Fall down, and I'll rear thee. Grow brown, still I'll wear thee, My lily and love ! Oh scold, for I'll bear it. Grow old, and I'll share it. Grow cold, not despair it. My darling, will I ! Grow learned, I'll read thee, Grow haughty, I'll heed thee, Grow hungry, I'll feed thee. Grow false, and I'll die ! Oh dance, for I'll see thee. Oh threat, for I'll fiee thee. Oh beck, I'll be wi' thee. Before thou canst wait ; Oh deck, I'll admire thee, Be chill, still thou'lt fire me, Be still, I'll inspire thee. My beautiful mate ! STRAY CHORDS. Soar like a song-bird 'mong the clouds ! Thy voice will fail, and thou'lt come back. Sail o'er the sea with studded shrouds, My love shall follow on thy track ! Oh break away ! The deathless gold Upon thy brow shall light me still ; Oh take away thy gentle hold, But I am anchored at thy will. Oh think me far, and I am near, Oh think me cold, and I am warm, Oh think me deaf, I still will hear. Oh think me dead, I'll own thy charm ! THE OPAL. Sad the opal is to me, With its glow of dusk and dawn, Veil of milk drawn fitfully, Fires as shy as eye of fawn. Sad to me that jewel fair ; Lost ones' smiles are gleaming there ! On a lovely brow laid low Once I hung the opal's crest, And its twin, with fiery glow, Laid I on a lovelier breast : Brow and breast Death would not spare. Though the opal glittered there ! Sad, sad youth, sad days long fled, Sad the calling of the dead, Low and lone ! Sad the gateway where we part, Sad grim Sorrow's poisoned dart, Saddest still of all thou art. Mournful Stone ! 60 STRAY CHORDS. Where 's the smile, the echo where ? Where the gleam of golden hair ? All are gone ; Only still the opal gleams, Drop of fire from magic streams. On life's strand: See ! it beckons me away, — On to homes of quenchless day. Glimmering with its weirdsome ray On Death's hand ! OLE BULL. There 's a fairy in the violin, — A Norse-imprisoned fay ; She struggles in her Master's arms, And fain would flit away. But, like the bird whose prison pours Song's gold upon the air, Stretching our Northern frost-framed walls To Southern forests rare. The gentle chord that binds her breaks The fetters of our care ; The lay of her captivity Makes all our lives more fair. O gentle Fairy ! Lead the way Through realms of fiction sweet, — The cradles of Sicilian day. The North-King's halls of sleet. 6i 62 STRAY CHORDS. The whirlwind and the icy blast Meet in thy captive wail ; Flowers and gems are round thee cast, Flung from thy forehead pale. But, though we glean a golden glow From the sweet spirit's strife, Say, is it fair to hold her so, A prisoner for life ? O Master ! set the fairy free ! End her poetic pain ; Nay, tastes she but the common air. She'll soon fly home again ! TO MARCIA. Marcia with the eyes divine, Clearly looking into mine, What fair sun doth through them shine Far away ? Glow they by another's light ? Beam they by their own sweet might ? Oh ! without them it is night After day. Marcia with the eyes divine, Fruits and flowers for sunlight pine, Calling on their king to shine In the shade, — Come, and let me call thee mine, And forever shalt thou shine : Boundless empire shall be thine, Dearest Maid ! 63 THE LILY'S REQUIEUM. Lay away our lily dear To her lovely rest ; Plant her where she'll grow more fair, Blooming 'mid the Blest ! Let our tears the dewdrops be On her snowy leaves : Blossoms of Eternity ' Chide the heart that grieves. Angel hands shall tend her there, Proffering the crown. While, from heaven's happy air, Smiling she looks down, 64 VIOLETS. Bursting from the common clod, Where the common foot has trod, How ye glorify the sod, Bringing messages from God, After storm and night ! Royal purple mantles glow O'er the earth that shuddered so. Underneath her shroud of snow, Still and white. Like the purple of the Morn, Heralding the Day unborn, Laughing hostile Night to scorn, Ye appear ; While in Earth's poor ear long dulled. And by hopeless tempests lulled, Spring, with choicest garlands culled, Whispers, Summer's near! 65 THE BARD TO THE ROSE-TREE. Mine of sweetness, budding out, Goddess hedged with pain about ; Beauty ruddy both and fair, Wedding York and Lancaster, — Knows the desert she adorns That my Rose-tree 's full of thorns ? Woe ! for she has pricked my hand, — Cruellest Rose-tree in the land ! By the pain I'm all unmanned. Losing pleasures I had planned. Knows the man whom Beauty scorns That the Rose-tree 's full of thorns ? But I know a sickle sharp In the tones of Blondel's harp. Rose-tree, thou may'st shake and carp, Minstrel's strings did never warp. Dreams the desert she adorns That I'll cut the Rose-tree's thorns ? 66 STRAY CHORDS. 6/ Sing that tJiere will come a day When the Rose-tree' II fade away, — When Jier haughty yea or nay WitJiont victims she may say. Let Jier cJioose while she adorns, — Transient Rose-tree, fnll of thorns ! Then upon the Rose's cheek Tears of dew did quickly speak, Blushes red of sudden shame, Pallid hues of well-earned blame. Laugh, thou desert she adorns, — Mine 's the Rose-tree full of thorns ! MORAL. And for thee, thou damask dame. Scorning Minstrel's earnest flame, Catcii the singer zuhile he 's tame : Bird two seasons never came. Scornful Beauty often mourns ; Minstrel's love not ladies' thorns. THE SINGER. What shall the Minstrel say ? All hath been sung, Ere the New World saw day, When Greece was young ; When in Ausonia Poets arose, Stripping e'en melody From their old foes ; When the wild Siegfried slew Dragons and men, When the great Sagas grew. All was sung then. When the full bard-notes rang O'er rock and dell, When he of Florence dreamed Heaven and Hell ; 68 STRAY CHORDS. 69 When Avon's peerless bird Wondrously sang, When Byron's rugged mace Through the world rang. Music hath votaries, ]\Iusic hath priests, Triumphs and auguries, Temples and feasts. Then let me break my lyre. Shatter my lute ! Did the gods this desire, Thou had'st been mute. Singing is ecstasy. Poet is king ; Let no one hark to me, Still I will sing ! Weep not for him ! He is gone to his glory ; Weep for the many, who live to their shame ! Write his name high 'mid the World's sacred story *' Here was a life that was spotless from blame ! ' Drape the pall low ! Let it hang o'er the living ; Give the fresh rose to the an