HE 
 
 PLANTING 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CROSS 
 
 HORACE M 
 PUBOSe 
 
 P S 
 
 2)507 
 
S^Q^j^JT 
 
 Class _ 
 
 Book 'M.±^P 5" 
 
 Coffyiiglit N!'._^^_ZZ^3 
 
 COPYRFGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE 
 
 Planting of the Cross 
 
 BY 
 
 .^ 
 
 Horace M. Du Bose 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 THE WHITAKER & RAY COMPANY 
 
 (incorporated) 
 
 1903 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Copies Receivet? 
 
 JUi 30 1903 
 
 Copyright Entry 
 
 /-TA,C-LV7-7_/ iJ ^ 
 
 6USS^ ^ XXcNo. 
 
 lo ^ 8" l^ ^ 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 f 
 
 
 Copyright, igoj 
 
 BY 
 
 Horace M. Du Bose 
 
 «. «, * " ft • • • 
 
 ** ^ « •> • « 
 
 „• „ * • * 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 Introductory 5 
 
 I. Don Ai^ejandro 7 
 
 II. Padre Serra 10 
 
 III. Ely Carmei<o 23 
 
 IV. The BuiIvDERS 34 
 
 V. The House Doi^ores . . . .46 
 
 VI. Dona Inez 60 
 
INTKODUCTORY. 
 
 At the close of the sixth decade of the eighteenth 
 century the Spanish Government began the col- 
 onization of the territory now embraced within 
 the limits of the State of California. The move- 
 ment, as was usual in Spanish settlements in the 
 New World, consisted of a dual occupation ; a com- 
 munity of monks and neophytes was established 
 under the protection of a military garrison and 
 the authority of an alcalde or governor. The first 
 settlement was begun at San Diego (called Cosoy 
 by the natives) , July i6, 1769. A rude church was 
 built and the foundations of Spanish rule were 
 laid. Father Junipero Serra, a native of the island 
 of Majorca, a Franciscan of apostolic zeal and con- 
 siderable learning, and long in charge of the Mis- 
 sions in Lower California, with his Presidential 
 seat at ancient Loreto, was made the first Presi- 
 dent of the new Mission ; while Caspar de Portold, 
 a knight of the cross in New Spain, became Gov- 
 ernor. After the first community had suffered 
 great hardships, the outposts of the Mission were 
 extended to Monterey, and then to San Francisco. 
 Slowly but steadily the intermediate ground was 
 occupied. The Missions flourished and accumu- 
 lated vast wealth in cattle, stores and cultivated 
 fields, orchards and vineyards. During half a 
 
 (5> 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 century thirty thousand Indians were Christian- 
 ized, taught the arts of civilized life and brought 
 to dwell in orderly communities and in houses of 
 wood and sun-dried brick. Secularization, by 
 which the Mission settlements were changed into 
 pueblos or towns and cities governed by civil mag- 
 istrates, struck the first blow at the prosperity of 
 this primitive system. The effects of war and the 
 changes of time completed its destruction. But a 
 condition of pastoral simplicity, mixed with un- 
 questioning reverence for the priestly patriarchate 
 set over them, continued amongst the Christian- 
 ized natives and mixed peoples of the land down 
 to the time of the advent of the Saxon gold hunt- 
 ers and the transfer of the territory to the flag of 
 the United States. In the following lines the nar- 
 rative of these events is put into the mouth of one 
 of the native Dons or Hidalgos, whose years con- 
 stitute a sort of link between the old and the new. 
 
I. DON ALEJANDRO. 
 
 WHEN laggard summer yawned in August 
 tide 
 And blew a stifling mist about the world, 
 Enticed by day-dreams of a season passed 
 Full length on ferny banks beneath the shade 
 Of ash or hemlock boughs, or lulled to sleep 
 By swift-voiced streams in canyon solitudes, 
 I shook the city's dust from off my feet 
 And pitched a useless tent below the peaks 
 That rise beyond Pajaro's windy copse. 
 
 No human footprints marred that dim retreat, 
 
 Save such as climbed a zigzag path to reach 
 
 The stile and doorway of a lone jacal — 
 
 A hawk-nest hut that, flung athwart the rocks, 
 
 Stood like a landmark fixed by law's decree 
 
 Dividing 'twixt the village sprawled below 
 
 And vaster spaces of the hill. I chanced 
 
 Upon it first an eve at set of sun, 
 
 A time the lone dispenser of its cheer, 
 
 A grey-haired Don, sat gazing down the west 
 
 As though the twilight swarmed with what he 
 
 knew, 
 The shades and ghosts of all his hundred years. 
 
 17) 
 
THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 A mild " Buenos" and a quizzing rote 
 
 Drew out his withered soul, a link between 
 
 The pastoral times of threescore years agone 
 
 And these our own of feverish lust for gold. 
 
 Don Alejandro, once undoubted lord 
 
 Of half these fertile plains, and of the hills 
 
 A hundred, counted east and west, had seen 
 
 His flocks, some tens of thousands — sheep and 
 
 kine — 
 Wind ranch ward at the rounding up. What now ? 
 A stranger in the land he taught to laugh 
 With furrowed fields and made to team with 
 
 wealth ; 
 And not so much of all his old demesne 
 lycft to his palsied age as nature asks 
 To make its bed in death. Yet no complaint 
 He breathed, but garruled in a cheerful way, 
 Stopping to kiss a little crucifix. 
 
 While all the west was reddening with the glow 
 
 Of burning cities, reared and pyloned far 
 
 In insubstantial mist, and from the lips 
 
 Of Alejandro rose a wreath of fragrant smoke 
 
 Amongst the needles of the terebinth, 
 
 I sat before the lowly door and wove 
 
 A strategy about the hoary man 
 
 And crossed his palms, until his memory strayed 
 
 Beyond the years of gold and strife, ere came 
 
 The Saxon trains across the Snowy Range ; 
 
 When Ivatin blood ruled all the land, and chimes 
 
DON AIvEJANDRO. 
 
 Of Latin bells across the pastoral plains 
 
 In far Te Deums rolled. Each day renewed 
 
 With stately speech the growing tale of how 
 
 The black-stoled padres taught the heathen folk, 
 
 And filled the land with tokens of the faith ; 
 
 Or passing holy things, how in the fields 
 
 The vaquero upheld his feudal claims ; 
 
 How swarthy gallants met, with steel to steel, 
 
 And fell transfixed, or lived with boastful scars 
 
 To claim applause from dark-eyed maids and 
 
 dames ; 
 How festal days were graced with sports and baits 
 Of horned bulls in those untroubled years 
 When grim alcaldes awed the infant State ; 
 And so he garruled on, the senile Don. 
 Bach day I drank the cup tradition filled 
 And saw the gleaming landscape spread below 
 Rebloom through Sabbath calm of Latin days. 
 But only tumbled heaps are left me now 
 Of that mirage blown by the winds of time, 
 And what is built through this frail verse of mine 
 Is random substance from that worthy's tale. 
 
10 THE PIvANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 II. PADRB SBRRA. 
 
 * " Calada Fornax ! " sighed the padres where 
 The desert heaved its fiery zones along 
 The borders of the Golden Land, when, led 
 As were the Elders long ago, they came 
 From fair Loreto on the Southern seas 
 To build the shrines of God and worship Him 
 In solemn Mass upon the heathen shore. 
 "Jesus Salvator! " grant them long repose, 
 Those ancient holy men, who wrought their tasks 
 They knew not how, save that they heard a voice 
 And answered ; saw a sign and doubted not, 
 Till what was mockery of their toils became 
 At last, in faith's serene reward, the speech 
 And symbol of delight. 
 
 The desert passed, 
 Remembered as a fever left the blood ; 
 And sweet as vision breaking after death 
 On holy eyes, the goodly land stretched on 
 In serrate lines of azure hills and deep, 
 Wide vales through which the summer, passing* 
 
 poured 
 From cloudland urns the rivers toward the sea. 
 
 *" Calada fornax " — fiery furnace, from which some de- 
 rive the name California. 
 
PADRK SERRA. 11 
 
 The Padre Serra, Angel of the Church 
 And first of all those reverend men whose names 
 Glow through the darkness of primeval times, 
 Walked in the garden by the Mission wall 
 In fair lyoreto when the tropic day 
 Glanced in a fiery mist from roofs of tile 
 And domes grey with a hundred years of age, 
 And, while a passion shook his frame as winds 
 In wild Gorgonio shake the aspen boughs, 
 Prayed in the utterance of a long desire. 
 "Kxsurgat Deus ! " breathed the reverend lips : 
 " I/et God arise; in darkness long has lain 
 The pleasant land, and all the heathen die 
 For lack of light and Holy Church ; or ere 
 "We plant the cross on those blue slopes and claim 
 The cheerful vales for God and our mild King, 
 The Arian hordes will mar. A sign, O God ! 
 Thy servants wait." Hereat an earthquake shook 
 The hoary shrine and rent the massive tower. 
 From which a snow-white nesting dove escaped 
 Flew northward o'er the level plain and passed 
 Into the heathen land; and all along 
 The quivering air the padre heard the chimes 
 Of distant bells, as though o'er miles of sea 
 They came, ringing the " Veni Creator." 
 
 **IvausDeus!" cried the thankful priest; "the time 
 Is ripe to call the heathen child ; and by 
 This sign God sends us forth." And still 
 The temple shook ; and half the silent saints 
 
12 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 In silvern vestments from their niches fell 
 And lay before the Host; the censers gave 
 The smell of incense burnt; and so the sign 
 About an hour's space prevailed, and passed. 
 
 God's plans, though slowly wrought to human 
 
 sight. 
 Complete themselves and lose not through the 
 
 years 
 One jot of all the ends they hold. Yet while 
 He waits, one prayer avails to hasten what 
 He wills and brings an empire to its birth. 
 Don Carlos coming to the throne of Spain 
 Destroyed the bloody court of Torquemade, 
 Expelled the Jesuit wolves, decreed a peace 
 And breathed his purpose through the shrinking 
 
 realm. 
 Ships multiplied upon the seas, wealth grew 
 And filled Iberian coffers and the King's, 
 Who, fain to claim his heritage beyond the sea, 
 Indited letters, sealed and sent them hence 
 By hands of noble men, Galvaez chief; 
 And thus it came to pass that day of signs, 
 At eve, about the time of Angelus, 
 That Don Rivera to the Mission rode 
 With letters from the King, and with him came 
 Two scores of Catalans and twenty knights 
 Sworn to the Holy Cross and to the King. 
 
padre; serra. 13 
 
 Thus went the royal mandate, read that eve 
 Before the altar when a solemn pomp 
 Was in the holy house : "Don Carlos, King, 
 To Portold, the Governor, Greetings — lo ! 
 The time is full; the Golden Land is ours, 
 Our legacy from those whose daring clove 
 The seas and found this goodly ancient pearl, 
 Meet now to glisten in the crown of Christ. 
 Arise and claim it for the King, and plant 
 The cross beside the shore. God prosper all ! " 
 Thus did the King's most royal mandate read. 
 And brought the Padre Serra's vision true. 
 
 At Autumn went the knights and friars by land, 
 
 The Catalans by ship with stores to build 
 
 The shrine of God at Cosoy on the heathen shore. 
 
 But Serra, being lame, and burdened sore 
 
 With care about the diocese and who 
 
 Should fill his room (for on him weighed the 
 
 Church 
 And many houses of his brotherhood. 
 Himself their sun and guiding star), went not 
 Upon the journey with the first, but blessed 
 And sent them forth, himself to follow soon; 
 And after such a time he went, and with him 
 Went a neophyte and cuirassier 
 To bear his holy things and guard the way. 
 
 From San Javier came Father Palou forth 
 
 To greet his brother priest, and kissed his hands 
 
14 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 With many tears of love and joy ; and him 
 Did Padre Serra name to fill his room ; 
 And thus content passed on, albeit pained 
 At every step with ulcered feet ; but helped 
 By native skill in use of unctuous herbs, 
 And borne from holy house to holy house, 
 He passed into the desert, fainting oft ; 
 And coming on the Governor's halting train, 
 Sank swooning into Padre Crespi's arms, 
 These two being knit in soul to toil as one. 
 
 At Cosoy in the heathen land they prayed 
 
 And raised the cross beside the curving shore. 
 
 While from the branches of a mighty oak 
 
 The bells rang out the " Veni Creator," 
 
 As Padre Serra heard them on the air 
 
 In fair Loreto by the Mission wall ; 
 
 And far across the dimpling sea, and up 
 
 The land along the sunny slopes it ran, 
 
 God's message to the heathen folk to hear and live. 
 
 And here they set an altar up, and cast 
 
 A wall about the place, and dwelt secure 
 
 While twice the fields were sowed and reaped ; 
 
 and herds 
 Were bleating in the fragrant pounds run rank 
 With billowing grass and galingales. Sometimes 
 The heathen glared in wolfish wrath, sometimes 
 Were docile as the doves and hares about the wilds; 
 But once they rose with treacherous aid and slew 
 The Father Luis ; and in later times 
 
PADRE SB;RRA. 15 
 
 They burned the holy house with which were 
 
 charged 
 The Fathers Fuster and Jaume ; of whom 
 They wounded one, the other slew, and left 
 The sweet place desolate; but all because 
 The soldiers wronged them sore, deflowered their 
 
 maids 
 And stole away their wives ; but now no shame 
 Was done, and many learned the creed and came 
 And dwelt as neophytes within the walls. 
 
 At Cosoy fain the Catalans had stayed 
 And ended there their labors for the King, 
 So pleasant was the land ; and rest and ease 
 And dalliance of the swarthy heathen maids 
 Had dulled the fiery ardor of their faith. 
 So, like a brood of sluggish bats, they gorged 
 And slept until the Governor doubted much 
 If he should push the conquest of the King ; 
 Howbeit, half a year before he led 
 His host a hundred leagues or more to north 
 Seeking Vizcaino's Bay, concerning which 
 The King had written, saying, "Build beside 
 Its shores the house of God, and claim the land." 
 
 And thence they went, but knew it not, though 
 
 such 
 As might have stood for all the King desired; 
 But being faint, they did but set a cross 
 
16 THK Pr<ANTING OF THE) CROSS. 
 
 Amongst the pines before the sea and wrote: 
 
 "Who finds this holy thing, pray dig about 
 
 Its foot; " and there they hid a screed, and back 
 
 Returned upon their path, coming again 
 
 To Cosoy, broken and faint ; and thus dissolved, 
 
 As mists at morn, the padre's darling dream. 
 
 "Lovers of ease, and all unlike our Lord, 
 Are we; breakers of oaths and gluttons, base 
 And craven-hearted," Serra moaned, there by 
 The curving sea at Cosoy, where a year before 
 Had rung the bells of Alcala: for moved 
 By wrath, and kindling into speech, he charged 
 The Governor, face to face, with false delay ; 
 And so they strove, the Governor holding that 
 The time was not, and he the time was ripe, 
 Till ending, passed the padre to the sea 
 And chafed in priestly anger, cried: ''Unholy 
 ease ! ' ' 
 
 Now came a time of want, the staff 
 Of bread was broken and distress was keen. 
 For all the year came neither ships nor word 
 To cheer the people, faint therefor with doubts 
 About the purpose of the King. And some, 
 Desponding, sank in feverish dreams and died 
 Fore viewing backward marches through the waste ; 
 But some, still trusting, searched with hungry eyes 
 The unrewarding seas, till also they 
 
padre; serra. 17 
 
 Fell into shadowy trances, feverish dreams, 
 
 And saw all things in spectral changes pass ; . 
 
 Or if it chanced that, perched amongst the rocks. 
 
 The watch mistook for sail the white-faced surge 
 
 That ran before the gale, hope blithely rose, 
 
 But sank again when promise failed of proof. 
 
 The dire extreme— the desert's path — drew, like 
 
 A judgment shadow, ever nigher until 
 
 The Governor's mandate fixed the day, if still 
 
 The sea refused a sail. Meanwhile a fast, 
 
 A solemn abstinence of nine full days, 
 
 Was ordered, and the people prayed each day, 
 
 And lifted lamentations up to heaven, 
 
 And so the ninth fulfilled itself at eve. 
 
 Upon his friar's couch at midnight laid, 
 And full of bitter thoughts and doubts at heart, 
 The Padre Serra dreamed a dream, and lo ! 
 One calm of face beside him stood, and said: 
 " Hast thou forgotten, thou to whom the word 
 Failed not when thou wast led through desert 
 
 ways 
 To build God's house and bless the heathen child? 
 Hast thou forgotten, falling into doubts ? " 
 
 And Serra answered meekly : "I have sinned ; 
 But God is merciful who made of dust 
 His prophets ; I am darkness in His light. 
 And all unworthy he should visit me. *' 
 
18 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Then he who had the face of peace replied, 
 Down gazing on the padre as he spoke : 
 •* There is no word save that of old, nor is 
 There aught beside that, hearing, men should say 
 God speaks of law. Read what is writ and give 
 To him who asketh reason of the evil days. " 
 
 And Serra answered: " God fulfills himself 
 
 Abiding in the Word. I am but dust 
 
 His nostrils should have scattered at a blast. " 
 
 " But," said the Vision, smiling as it spoke, 
 " Not only voices of the ancient days 
 But voices of the now and times to be 
 Appeal the ear of faith, nor doubts exempt ; 
 Now therefore gird thyself to follow these ; 
 For thou shalt prosper and shalt have success. 
 And so shalt lead this doubting folk a way 
 Thou knowest not, to build the house of God 
 In places thou shalt know. The time is full, 
 And thou shalt shortly see in pageant come 
 The feet most beautiful of those great ones 
 With tidings sent— archons of seats and thrones, 
 And hear what time they come to serve thee 
 
 sounds 
 Exultant, cried as of a multitude 
 Shouting far off in heaven ; but now, arise ; 
 One waits thine instant coming at the sea." 
 
PADRE SERRA. 19 
 
 And Serra, still in trance, beheld, and lo! 
 
 A ship stood anchored by the curving shore. 
 
 And from its mast a fiery oriflamme 
 
 Streamed with the breeze and lit the shrouds 
 
 And all the decks were bright, while up and down 
 
 Within the dazzling circle of the light 
 
 The plumed master strode and seaward glanced 
 
 In moods of musing on a vast concern. 
 
 At length he called the wondering padre hence, 
 
 And showed him plenteous stores and holy things 
 
 Within the hold, and cheered his reverent soul 
 
 Kxpounding all the purpose of the King ; 
 
 And when the morning broke through cloudless 
 
 gates, 
 And softly breathing rolled the mists far down 
 The sloping seas and ruffled all the bay 
 With mimic billows dancing toward the shore, 
 They hoised the anchor up and sped away 
 Upon the quest that filled the padre's life. 
 The aspect of the world was changed, and changed 
 Thereto the passion of his mind. The heights 
 And depths dissolved in one consistency, 
 And all seemed but the robing of a soul 
 That shaped its pleasure to a voiceless law 
 And proved obedience to the uttermost. 
 
 Against the sky the sea was blue, and blue 
 The sky against the sea. The ship seemed now 
 To rise and float within the sky and now 
 Upon the sea. Deep called to deep ; the hills 
 
20 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Burst into flame and o'er their summits rolled 
 
 Exultant sounds as of a multitude 
 
 Shouting far off in heaven. And signs were 
 
 there — 
 A sea of glass, a quivering interval 
 Between the heavens and those eternal peaks 
 Upheaving sapphire crests against the dawn ; 
 And sweeping earthward down in pageant came 
 The feet most beautiful of those great ones 
 With tidings sent. 
 
 Twilight at length befell, 
 A softness less of ether than of God 
 Wide brooding o'er the obeisant seas. The eve 
 Grew into night with vault of stars above 
 And floor of stars beneath, wherein the keel 
 Seemed motionless, and every different star 
 In vault and floor burned with a variant light. 
 
 A slender surf broke on the darkened shore 
 Beneath a fringing copse of cypress trees, 
 Or poured through octaves of the rocky isles 
 A drowsing music on the night. No breeze 
 Was in the sail — the pilot-star with force 
 Of some supernal lode drew on the prow 
 Of that obedient craft heaven-named and sent, 
 Which, ever moving, held by winding shores 
 That grew at dawn to wonder more and more : 
 Bold capes and sheer upclimbing walls and cliffs 
 
PADRB SERRA. 21 
 
 Shaped to a vast and fierce outline of life ; 
 Calm valleys marging on the level seas ; 
 Broad mesas fragrant with abundant grass, 
 And canyons dark with thorny chapparals 
 And wilds of woolly hemlocks sloping down. 
 A dreamy distance wooed the gliding keel 
 And stretched inviting arms from silent bights 
 Or channels of serenest tides, blue-waved 
 And flowing down 'twixt groups of glittering isles 
 And shorelands soaring upward toward the peaks 
 Of mountains lilac-hued and veined with lines 
 Of azure woods woven and laced above 
 Descending streams. 
 
 The dreamland day fell soft 
 As only dreamland days can fall, but died 
 In briefness of a thought, and, dying, spread 
 A glory on the seas. A ragged land 
 Rose sharp against the sky and made a port 
 Of restful waters, where when night came on 
 The bark was steered and moored beside the 
 
 shore — 
 An ancient beach o'ergloomed with spectral pines 
 Held in a silence deep as that which reigned 
 Of old before the birth of primal light. 
 
 The Padre Serra landward looked, and lo ! 
 Outlined against the wold, the Holy Cross, 
 And shedding luster brighter than the stars ; 
 
22 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 The ground a little space about was lit 
 With that supernal glow, and dusky men 
 Within the radiance lifted prayerful hands, 
 And watched with wistful eyes the holy thing 
 Until, updrawn, it marked the shield of God, 
 The vast and star-embossed ellipse of heaven. 
 Ring after ring of sapphire broke and fell 
 From either arm, and floating downward rolled 
 The land and sea in flame and made them seem 
 One substance in the flame. And then was heard 
 Far up in heaven a voice which said : " Behold, 
 I make my house with these." And Serra saw 
 In vision rise a city like the King's, 
 Flame-built and bastioned upward awful heights. 
 And all its gates surcharged with sudden hosts ; 
 And while he watched, the vision paled and passed. 
 
EI. CARMEI^O. 23 
 
 III. Ely CARMBLO. 
 
 THK cock at Cosoy wailed at dawn and woke 
 The friars and neophytes. A dragon mist 
 Lay on the sea and breathed across the land 
 A breath that chilled the blood and built about 
 The Mission towers a Cyclopean gloom. 
 
 At matins in the shrine shone Serra's face 
 Lit with a light supernal, like a saint's ; 
 His lips in prayer betrayed the touch of coals 
 Red from the altar by the feet of God ; 
 The secret of his heart made glow upon 
 His hands and virtue in his robe, and he 
 Himself was then as one who talked with God ; 
 And while he served, behold the bells, and all 
 Untouched, chimed out the " Veni Creator," 
 And awe unearthly fell on every soul. 
 
 A sudden token shook the holy place, 
 
 And muffling through the mist the boom of guns, 
 
 The King's salute calling from off the sea 
 
 Closed in the diapason of the bells. 
 
 With joy the people thronged the shores, and 
 
 when 
 The sun broke through the mist, a league at sea 
 They saw the squadron rolling in the blue. 
 
24 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS, 
 
 And Serra made a psalm of thanks that day 
 And sang as Moses sang beside the sea, 
 And all the people lifted silent thanks. 
 
 The poppy spring had dappled hill and shore 
 When Serra entered ship. The mountains watched 
 From out their holies high in heaven ; the hosts 
 Of waves that broke about the reefs, dark-crowned 
 With coral palms, cried alleluias loud. 
 And all the sea was praise. When fell the tide 
 The fleet moved outward ; then a wind upsprung 
 And swept it through the passes of the isles 
 And toward the vagueness of the outer deep. 
 
 Now when he saw the great ships sink away 
 And read fulfillment of the King's desire, 
 New-braced with hope, the Governor rose once 
 
 more 
 And marched a third time o'er the midland path. 
 Across the purple range, and brought his host, 
 When half their course was journeyed through, 
 
 into 
 A land sweet with the breath of fragrant shrubs 
 And gloomed by trunks and crests of hugest 
 
 pines ; 
 A land beside whose rills the roebuck stalked 
 And where the puma prowled amongst the brakes. 
 From thence descending, stage by stage, 
 They came on valleys blue, as heaven is blue, 
 
EI. CARMEI^O. 25 
 
 With harebells and with hyacinths, and starred 
 With poppies, for it chanced that spring was full. 
 
 And so they journeyed up the land and came 
 To where the cross was set amongst the pines, 
 And there a wonder saw : from either arm 
 And round the beam were hung festoons of shells 
 And gaudy things, gifts of the Eslen folk, 
 Who thought by fetich rites to please, and so 
 Appease the stranger ; and they also showed 
 By signs how awful portents came and went 
 About the cross, shot down in flame from heaven ; 
 And how withal it rose against the night 
 Up to the stars and drew them into one, 
 Until there burst the brightness of a hundred 
 moons. 
 
 And Crespi counseled there to stay and build, 
 Well deeming God had chosen such a place; 
 So there they tarried, watching day and night, 
 Until an eve when splendors of the sun 
 Made flame of sea and sky. And Crespi walked 
 In converse with the Governor by the shore 
 And came to where the green seas round a cape 
 Crawled like a million typhous hissing death, 
 When, as a man who calls again to mind 
 The outlines of a long forgotten dream, 
 Grave Crespi stood a moment fixed in thought, 
 Then cried : " This is the Point of Pines, and that 
 
26 THE PI<ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 'Famoso Puerto, landlocked and wide,' 
 Of which the priest of Bueno told, and where 
 Two hundred years ago Vizcaino's galleys rode, 
 Concerning which the King commandment gave 
 To build beside the shore and claim the land." 
 And while they gazed upon the sea, behold, 
 About two leagues from off the shore the ships 
 Of Serra, rolled in splendors of the eve ! 
 
 Beside the beach they lighted signal fires 
 And watched the ghost- white faces of the surf 
 Until a sudden dawn consumed the stars 
 And swept the shadows from the sea. 
 
 In stole 
 And alb arrayed, chanting Te Deums loud, 
 Came Padre Serra to the shore, the while 
 From iron lips the ships spoke thunders to the 
 
 sea. 
 Ten varas from the sandy beach they marched. 
 Priests, Catalans and neophytes, and there 
 An enramada spread, and blessed and set 
 The cross beneath the selfsame mighty oak. 
 Whereunder Priest Ascension chanted Mass 
 Two hundred years before ; and while the voice 
 Of cannon shook the groves, the heathen folk 
 In wonder looking on, the Governor came 
 And, drawing sword, claimed sea and shore, and all 
 The people for the King ; and with such pomp 
 
EL CARMEI.O. 27 
 
 The Golden Land forever passed from heathen 
 hands. 
 
 A path that winds about the pine-girt hills 
 
 Brings one to moly Carmelo, back from 
 
 The tumbling sea. Thence went the priests and 
 
 built 
 The shrine of God, and called it for the King. 
 Most fair the place and brave the Mission wall, 
 As sweet the chapel built within. O there 
 God chose to dwell before those holy men 
 With chant and incense came, and then much 
 
 more ; 
 And gave the church long rest about the altar 
 
 there, 
 And from it went the conquest of the land. 
 Arcadian meadows girt the walls about 
 And rolled away beneath idyllic shades 
 Of century oaks and elms where night and day 
 Cicadas trilled the notes of peace. There winds 
 Moist from the waves grew whist and fed the life 
 Of vine and herb and dressed from spring to spring 
 The smiling turf with green. Abundance came 
 With years ; harvest and vintage brought returns; 
 And flocks, as I/aban's, multiplied— sheep, kine, 
 And horses bred from Andalusian stalls, 
 Known over seas for grace of limb and strength — 
 And, filling first the Mission pounds, escaped 
 And roamed the wilds, whence sprang the mav- 
 erick herds 
 That browsed our grassy plains in pastoral times^ 
 
28 the; pi, anting of the cross. 
 
 Long did the patient padres toil to bring 
 The heathen Sacalanes to light; and some, 
 Believing what they heard, were entered neophytes 
 To dwell within the walls ; and some were set 
 To till the soil, and others yet to learn a craft, 
 To hew, to join, to quarry stone and carve; 
 Their maids and wives to spin and weave, 
 Whence many goodly cloths came to the shrine, 
 Fabrics of wool and linen strangely wrought. 
 And tapestries that pleased the padres' hearts. 
 And Serra made the people dwell apart 
 In cities, Sacalanes and Eslens, taught 
 Them gentle speeches for their homes, and with 
 A father's love watched over their concerns. 
 The Governor gave to each a plot of ground, 
 A bullock or an ass with which to plow, 
 And seed to sow their fields which soon rejoiced 
 With corn, and gentler grew the heathen child. 
 
 So was a fountain opened for the land 
 Of hope and life. And once each year when fell 
 The harvest, and its winsome moon was full, 
 The maids, each in her turn , constrained to choose , 
 The nuptial bells were rung and such were wed ; 
 Nor moveless maids, nor slothful lovers, these; 
 Nor lacked in tenderness their tales of love: 
 The Cupid of the wild, winked at, plaj^ed 
 Many a prank upon the unsuspecting friars, 
 And left his beauty on the answering land. 
 
EI, CARME;i,0. 29 
 
 And Serra's zeal burned ever only more, 
 
 A lamp of gold that shed its light upon 
 
 The heathen child; and Father Crespi was 
 
 To him another self, the shadow of his soul, 
 
 To whom he said: "We twain have walked as one 
 
 These many years. It pleases God we be 
 
 Not severed long by death. O, brother, we 
 
 Shall soon depart and for our house above 
 
 Exchange this holy shrine we love below. 
 
 Pray God we leave our children fixed in Him, 
 
 For, brother, evil times and sore distress 
 
 Will try the work our hands have wrought; 
 
 A horde of grievous wolves awaits the day 
 
 When we, the shepherds, sleep our sleep, and these 
 
 Our lambs shall see our faces here no more. 
 
 And Father Crespi answered him and said: 
 
 "Our days are His to measure: He hath made 
 
 Mine own remaining but a little space. 
 
 I shall be first to pass from out this wild 
 
 And see the goodly hosts that have attained ; 
 
 For while at vespers kneeling I beheld 
 
 A token as of light, a glory shining 
 
 Through the house, and heard a new name called 
 
 Upon me, but no other sound I heard ; 
 
 And peaceful were my thoughts and like a child's, 
 
 And I was well content, and rising saw 
 
 The moon shine full from off the sleeping sea; 
 
 And far away as in a dream the tides 
 
 Called through the sombre fragrant pines. 
 
30 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 ' Pass thou with us ! ' they said. And now my work 
 Is done, except it may be for a day 
 Or two that I shall wait." 
 
 So oft they spoke, 
 These two, perceiving how their ends approached. 
 And each the other cheered with holy speech. 
 
 At last worn out with toils and ails, just as 
 
 The old year's sandals touched the frothing 
 
 marge 
 Of a tumultuous sea that beat against 
 The Point of Pines, the Padre Crespi slept. 
 Such sleep as all might wish to sleep, so calm, 
 So like a weary child's. And so they bound 
 His feet and laid the saint to rest there in 
 The holy place he loved; and Serra said: 
 "Now is the time to go; the silver cord 
 Is loosed. Farewell and hail, sweet brother, 
 Partner in the labors of our Lord !" 
 
 And now a yearning, such as dying mothers feel 
 To hold their babes, possessed the fainting Serra's 
 
 heart 
 To see the holy houses he had built 
 And children born to him through Mother Church; 
 For through the years a host — six thousand small 
 And great — was gathered from the tribes and 
 
 sealed, 
 And Serra's hands had blessed them, everyone. 
 
EI. CARMELO. 31 
 
 From Cosoy up the land, in winter 
 While a frost was on the hills, and in his blood 
 A fever burned, went Serra blessing all 
 The neophytes confirmed, and saying sad 
 Farewells of one who loved them most to those 
 Who knew his voice in other years, and thus 
 Contented, till he came to Arcaugel, 
 The fairest house and choicest spot in all 
 The Golden Land, wherein it seemed that he 
 Must needs expire. The ulcers on his feet 
 Ran sore; the fever drank his blood; but hands 
 Of loving neophytes nursed back his life 
 And snatched a little respite from the grave ; 
 And thence he came again to Carmel by 
 The moly banks and waited there his change. 
 
 A night without a shred of cloud or mist — 
 
 A vault of azure set with points of flame — 
 
 O'erhung the earth and sea, and from his couch 
 
 The dying padre gazed into its depths 
 
 Through frosty panes of casement glass, and saw 
 
 A vision of the Virgin's face, etched in 
 
 A crystal nimbus, with the Holy Child's, 
 
 And round them cherubs whiter than the stars of 
 
 dawn ; 
 And in the tranquil night, and far beyond 
 The moaning sea that spread beneath, he saw 
 The cross that in a vision long before 
 He saw at Cosoy when his spirit felt 
 A mighty yearning toward the heathen child ; 
 
32 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 And while he looked it passed into eclipse 
 Of flame that made a city like the King's, 
 Whence came, forth from the gate that looked 
 
 upon 
 The sea, a shining host which beckoned thence 
 With beaming hands and seeming speech. Up 
 
 sprang 
 The dying saint, and crying, "Hail and hail! " 
 Spread forth his hands and passed beyond the 
 
 night. 
 
 So died the patient Serra, full of years. 
 Priest, pioneer aad Father of the Golden I^and. 
 
 Grey church beside the moaning sea 
 And in the dusky cedar's shade, 
 
 Thy tale is to the cedar tree 
 
 As some faint breeze about the glade ; 
 
 The cedar's to the sea is naught; 
 
 And paiu with older truth is fraught. 
 But love hath all your meanings made. 
 
 Old bells within the moldy tower 
 Call loud and long across the sea; 
 
 Call through the mists that dunly lower ! 
 Who heard your ancient monody, 
 
 The grey old padre, hears no more ; 
 
 But one who lingers by the shore, 
 In transient stay, will heed your plea. 
 
^L, CARMBlvO. 33 
 
 This much I know of human creed, 
 This much of the divine in man : 
 
 That he who suflfers most will need 
 The least of rancor in his plan; 
 
 Will take the largest view of good, 
 
 And make of L/Ove's beatitude 
 A speech all narrowness to ban. 
 
 I stood with awe and thankfulness 
 Before a pomp I could not dread, 
 
 Within a shrine I could not bless; 
 And yet adored with bowed head. 
 
 The mystery wildly typed in these ; 
 
 For love I saw survives disease, 
 And serves for but a crust of bread. 
 
 Call loud and long across the sea, 
 Old bells within the moldy tower; 
 
 Call through the pines and up the lea; 
 Call through the mists that dunly lower; 
 
 Ye shall not wake the past, nor him 
 
 That sleeps beneath yon cloister dim, 
 From whom the Golden I^and is dower. 
 
 But ye have waked within my soul 
 A host of holy things once dead, 
 
 And knoUed of much the final knoll — 
 Of much, the earthy, sepulch'red. 
 
 Sweet gain for my sad pilgrimage 
 
 And wisdom for my latest age, 
 And binding for my weary head. 
 
84 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 IV. THE BUILDERS. 
 
 AS after storm the sun, burst through a rift 
 Of clouds, makes splendor widening on the 
 fields 
 And brightening on the wolds and hills, so spread 
 The faith and widened through the land, dispelling 
 
 shades 
 Of savage night, the while with martyr joy 
 The reverend-handed wrought and built until 
 One comes to Cosoy, southward, and to Assis, 
 Northward by the wonder-holding sea. 
 
 O Memory, wake thy muse and tell, before 
 From lips of life it pass, the tale of each 
 Those goodly seats faith reared and faith adorned 
 Beside unfailing stream, or sea, or in 
 Savannahs lapped, with near enamoring shades ! 
 
 From Carmel at the summer's height when fell 
 The first full year, and ships were come with 
 
 friars 
 And needed stores, went Padre Serra forth, 
 Attended, on the clear Salinas' course, 
 And in a glen o'erwatched by bearded oaks 
 Belfried and rung loud bells of gospel joy, 
 Crying the while, "Come, children, come, and 
 
 take 
 
THE BUir^DKRS. 35 
 
 The easy yoke of Christ ! " Then for a time 
 Was silence, save that through the leafy wood 
 Went echo softly calling, "Come." But when 
 The Host upon a thymy knoll was spread 
 And sang the friars a loud Magnificat, 
 Faint on the forest's mold was heard the tread 
 Of feet; and lo, the shadowy forms of men, 
 The Gentile people watching from afar ! 
 And so the soil and groves were dedicate, 
 And for Padua's Saint the altar named. 
 
 Rare vine did that brave planting grow 
 And rich of blood that holy martyrs gave : 
 Three priests, the Abbe Pujol last, found each 
 Beneath those never-fading oaks his crown 
 And there a grave in peaceful solitude; 
 But evermore prevailed the cross, with year 
 By year its hundred births from Gentile death ; 
 And year by year the Mission's store increased, 
 The cheer of travelers passing through the wild. 
 
 Next after Carmel fairest, fashioned forth 
 
 A wonder of adoring zf^al, appeared 
 
 San Gabriel in the South. Seen from afar 
 
 Miraged in blue and vert, and flamed about 
 
 By torches of the phlox and golden-rod. 
 
 It seemed the vision of another house 
 
 Let down from heaven. Nor lacked it proof of 
 
 grace 
 In after times, nor wanted litanies 
 
36 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS, 
 
 Of love and toil. There faith went hand in hand 
 With useful skill taught to the neophytes 
 Who vied each with the other in their tasks, 
 And made the lamps of altars and their cups, 
 And fashioned also groins and fretted beams 
 With man}' an ornament of holy use. 
 Deft likewise grew the hands of novice maids 
 To weave soft carded wools and linens bright 
 With Tyre-excelling dyes; to plait the reeds 
 And grasses, many-hued, that grew about 
 The stream; to make them beaded reticules, 
 And sandal shoon wherewith to clothe their feet. 
 And these became the mothers of the lords 
 Of after times, even these once-savage maids. 
 So grew the miracle of faith far in 
 The dreamy South; and still, O blest! the chimes 
 Of old sound from the mauj'-belfried towers 
 Calling to Angelus at summer eves. 
 
 Los Osos, haunt of deer and whistling quail, 
 An ancient fen sucked of its deadly ooze 
 By sea and sun, grew wildly rank with life 
 Of vine and tree, by nature dressed. 
 The frail convolvuli, cerulean-cupped. 
 Made beauty in the brakes and on the cliffs; 
 The red heath apple rained its Shulem wealth 
 Amongst the nutgrass spires ; the wild rye 
 Shot its arrowy seeds upon the breeze. 
 While birds of paradise flashed sheeny wings 
 Amongst the shades. 
 
THE BUII^DERS. 37 
 
 Hither the padres came 
 And chanted litanies which, riding down 
 The winds, hailed thither wondering savage men, 
 Who offered gifts of milky nuts and signed 
 Their joy to hear the echo- waking bells. 
 Then were they glad, those holy men, and called 
 The name of great San lyuis on the place, 
 And left before the wide-beholding sea 
 A torch to light the darkness of the land. 
 
 The stigma of the Friar of Assis marked 
 The day when to the house Dolores came 
 His image, Palou chanting Mass before, 
 Palou the same whom Serra left to fill 
 His room when first he went to plant the cross 
 On heathen soil; a toilful priest was he, 
 A man of blameless speech and single eye, 
 And like to him Cambon, and both true sons 
 Of their seraphic Sire; to whom in time 
 Came Pena and Maria, and they wrought, 
 These four, as one, adorned the holy house, 
 Planted a little space of hills and taught 
 The brook to flow about the terraced slope, 
 Feeding the fields and gardens by the wall. 
 Albeit greater fields were sown beyond 
 The hills, where better soil invited husbandry, 
 And whence in later times the Mission drew 
 Its staff of bread; and thence the waters burst, 
 And Camb6n blessed the fountains, dual springs, 
 That sent sweet wellings forth, thereafter famed 
 
38 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 And much desired as giving health, new blood 
 And thews of youth; the barren women drank 
 And knew the joys of motherhood: so said 
 The wrinkled crones that mouthed on market days. 
 Then was the honor of the saint renewed, 
 Where this his house stood like a palm tree by 
 The rill ; and fragrant like a rose that blooms 
 The desert in, it blessed the desert's child. 
 
 From fire-scathed Alcala impatient feet 
 
 To Sajarit passed, and holy hands took 
 
 From their hiding place, fear-made a year before, 
 
 The bells and chasubles devote, and reared 
 
 San Juan, the monument of after woe. 
 
 Fair rose its domes against the sky, but rose 
 
 To fall. The air a sudden tremor took 
 
 As of the voice of doom, and while a host 
 
 Of waves tumultuous from the outer seas 
 
 Fell moaning misereres on the shore, 
 
 The earthquake spoke its wrath, and they were not. 
 
 The children of its travail. In their death 
 
 Sublimely sepulchered, they sleep where 
 
 I^ike a shattered hope the temple's beauty lies. 
 
 Beneath a sapphire skj'^, and in the vale 
 By Guadeloupe's fluent tide, set round 
 By sunny slopes, Assisi's Maid found seat 
 And patron honors undisturbed. Begot 
 Of peace, itself clave close to happy peace 
 And brought its children forth in peacefulness. 
 
THB BUILDKRS. 3» 
 
 Deep in the glens about, the wild rose blew, 
 The petted child of nature's ease. By door 
 And gateway and beside the shrine's own porch, 
 Transplanted, grew the wildling grace, 
 Until one saw the prophet's dream fulfilled 
 And Zion blossom with a virgin bloom. 
 
 The years. that passed were four ere went again 
 
 The feet of builders shining through the South, 
 
 Whence journeying on they came to Chufu's seat— 
 
 Chufu, the chiefest of the Chumas' gods, 
 
 And terror-clothed. There while a mist blown like 
 
 A smoke from out the Channel Seas o'erspread 
 
 The hills and highest peaks, their office said. 
 
 To good Ventura, Saint, the padres reared 
 
 An house, and blessed and sowed the mattocked 
 
 fields. 
 Nor lacked for answer to their lusty toils 
 In that surprising land. Three harvests to 
 The sickle yearly fell. The cocoa spread 
 Its silken fronds and ripened in the air; 
 The date, the plantain and the peach beside 
 The almond drank the warmth of sun and soil; 
 The walnut's branches rained their marrowy 
 
 globes 
 At autumn, while the wine from out the pipes 
 Ran red as sunset on the ocean isles. 
 
 The selfsame year was laid the line upon 
 Saint Barbara's portion in the vale betwixt 
 
40 THE PI<ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 The mountains and the sea; such sea 
 
 As, looking on, one thinks of that which breaks 
 
 With fringe of pearl against the shores of Life ; 
 
 Such mountains as within the thought of him 
 
 Beholding seem the hills delectable 
 
 On that fair coast which John in Patmos saw. 
 
 This was the realm of Yanonalit, chief 
 
 Of Chumas, mild and generous folk who brought 
 
 Their stores of fruits and gave their help to build 
 
 A chapel where the first rude altar rose ; 
 
 And Yanonalit brought with him, when first 
 
 He came to kiss the padre's hands, his young 
 
 Twin daughters, mountain flowers that grew in 
 
 grace 
 Of native princesshood unspoused and free. 
 These Serra baptized, blessed with sign and gave 
 To each a name of martyr maid and sent 
 Them far away in ship to dwell with nuns 
 Until their time of womanhood. And so 
 It fell that one became herself a nun 
 And one was wedded to a knight in Spain. 
 
 Thus was there pledge of peace, and thus was built 
 Saint Barbara's earliest house. But ere 
 The destined beauty grew from faith to form 
 Was Serra's office ended, and he passed 
 From toil to his reward amongst the blest. 
 And therefore was there doubt upon the land, 
 For none arose thereafter likened unto him. 
 
THE BUILDERS. 41 
 
 But Padre Lasuen took his room and built 
 
 The shrines Purisima and Santa Cruz, 
 
 This by the Alsacupi, that beside 
 
 The clear Ivorenzo near the pleasant sea; 
 
 And doleful Soledad; and San Miguel, 
 
 Reared to the Captain of the heavenly hosts; 
 
 And Badtista, shaped from oaken beams 
 
 And thatched with leaves, as fitted, in the wilds; 
 
 And San Jose, called so for spouse of her 
 
 That Mother was of our dear lyord the Christ; 
 
 And San Fernando, girt with palms and shades 
 
 Of reverend oaks; and Luis Rey, named for 
 
 That holy king of long ago, in grace 
 
 The noblest built in all the Golden Land; 
 
 And these were blest, their times, with all the rest. 
 
 Fair doors of mercy opened in the wilds. 
 
 But all is changed. Avarice and time, and blight 
 Of man's neglect! Alas! The houses mourn 
 Their beauty past; but mourn in hopelessness. 
 Each now is bride to silence, fruitless each, 
 And all unfavored, save that here and there 
 A suppliant comes to pray in secret 
 And adore before the fall'n altar Him 
 That changeth not with changing time. Waste are 
 The fields about that once were green with corn 
 And musky-mellow at the time of grapes; 
 The meadows lie of browsing herds untrod; 
 The cloisters vacant stand, bewebbed and fouled 
 Of mildew, falling piecemeal in the damp 
 
42 THE PlyANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Of rain and mist, unguarded, save by dust 
 Of holy dead inurned about. Yet here 
 Was once a life fair-clothed with washen robes 
 For rags of heathen shame exchanged; here lived 
 The vows of chastity and faith, and here 
 The heathen child grew up a saint, and oft 
 A martyr died for Christ's most holy name. 
 Methinks the Indian's voice is heard again 
 Within those reverend places, plaintive, wild, 
 And like a new-born babe's before the dawn — 
 A cry that, hearing, those sweet fathers' hearts 
 With mother pangs of love were touched, and 
 
 deemed 
 Assisi's Saint ofttimes, when incense filled 
 The house or hung at Angelus above 
 The Host, approached the chancel clad in vests 
 Of myrrhy samite, but so dimly faint 
 That all was spirit-like ; and stretching forth 
 His hands, blessed all the kneeling neophytes; 
 Then following after, spirit-like and low. 
 Intoning voices filled the inmost shrine 
 And, passing hence, were heard far off in heaven. 
 
 El Carmel by the river 
 Holders and falleth ever; 
 No more its belfries quiver 
 With the riot of old bells. 
 The river weudeth slowly 
 
THE BUII^DERS. 43 
 
 Through meads of cress and moly 
 Under the ruins holy, 
 Where ancient silence dwells. 
 
 No reverent soul of mortal 
 Passeth the gloomy portal 
 Bearing a wish immortal 
 
 Appealed to love or law; 
 No vespers there are chanted, 
 No penance asked or granted, 
 But the chancel old is haunted 
 
 By a legendary awe. 
 
 The swallow there is mated. 
 The eerie owl is sated, 
 And the turtle drops belated 
 
 Beneath the hoary eaves. 
 No burning censer leaveth 
 A sweetness that relieveth 
 "What gloom the ivy weaveth 
 
 In monody of leaves. 
 
 The silent stars shine nightly, 
 The summer sun glows brightly, 
 The desert winds breathe lightly 
 
 Through arch and colonnade; 
 The aspen whispers kindly. 
 The spider weaveth blindly, 
 Madonna looks resign 'dly 
 
 From the rudely carved facade. 
 
44 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Hard by the gleaming fallows, 
 Under the dusky willows, 
 Low on their earthy pillows, 
 
 The holy men repose. 
 The sea mist settles dunly, 
 The spice tree weepeth lonely, 
 But the gnarled oak tree only 
 
 Their long hicjacet knows. 
 
 There creeps the brown-leaved clover 
 And throws its mantle over 
 The dust-still hearts that never 
 
 In prayer again shall burn ; 
 Its sweet the camphor spilleth, 
 The dryad locust trilleth 
 Till autumn's raindrop fiUeth 
 
 Their lowly marble urn. 
 
 Stars of a faith time-hoary, 
 Spurners of place and glory. 
 Tellers of simple story 
 
 With redolence of pain ; 
 Peace, holy and unbroken, 
 Good in the highest spoken. 
 And honor without token, 
 
 A recompense remain. 
 
 El Carmel by the river 
 Molders and falleth ever; 
 And passing time doth sever 
 
THB BUII^DERS. 45 
 
 The thoughts of men the more. 
 So every labor falleth, 
 Nor faith nor pride recalleth, 
 But dusky night o'erpalleth 
 
 Whose light has gone before. 
 
 Tradition cometh sadly, 
 And passion cometh madly, 
 While wonder cometh gladly 
 
 To look upon the waste ; 
 Song cherisheth divinely. 
 Doubt standeth by supinely, 
 Truth passeth on benignly 
 
 And ever maketh haste. 
 
46 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 V. THE HOUSE DOLORES. 
 
 FULL many an admiral passed the Golden 
 Gate, 
 But never European saw within 
 Till Portold, distraught and baffled, came 
 At autumn, leading those sent forth to build 
 A shrine and set presidial bounds before 
 Vizcaino's ever-fleeting bay. For when 
 At first they should have found for which they 
 
 searched, 
 A fog heaved heavenward from the ocean like 
 A coral shore. Himalayan-topped, hid all, 
 The fair expanse, and so denied their eyes 
 And left them wandering on till, lured by capes 
 And headlands ever beaten by wild surfs 
 And void of sheltering coves, they came at last 
 Into a range of darkly wooded hills. 
 Deep-cloven by canyadas, cool with streams. 
 That dripped from hidden sources in the glades 
 Of fern and chapparal, and there encamped 
 Within the shadows of the wold, despairing 
 Of the King's behest and weary of 
 Their vagrant lives that brought no fruit. All 
 
 night 
 Their flickering camp-fires threw a ghostly light 
 Far down the vistaed gloom of red-wood boles. 
 And memory's camp-fire, feeding on the past. 
 
THE HOUSE DOLORES. 47 
 
 Burned bright and re-illumed the years of life ; 
 While round the strawy canopy above 
 The winds in melancholy music sobbed, 
 And through the rifted shades with half-shut 
 
 eyes 
 They watched the stars in vastness overhead ; 
 But speech was stronger than the wondering 
 
 soul, 
 And one broke forth and sang a strain of love, 
 A love that was and perished long before ; 
 But one sang low of home in other clime 
 And days of happier thought and deed than 
 
 now, 
 And sang till voice and spirit both were calm ; 
 Another caught the falling note and sang 
 Of courage, and of faith's serene reward 
 Laid up beyond the stars and sobbing wold; 
 Then silence fell, and in it came the dawn, 
 Grey-breaking through the passes of the hills. 
 
 Far murmurs as of waves upon the beach, 
 Low voices whispered on the fainting winds 
 Came from the purple north ; and straight a 
 
 knight 
 Amongst the knights declared the sign, and 
 
 cried : 
 "This bids us journey till we find the King's 
 
 desire ; 
 Obedience is the seal of hope; what though 
 
48 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 The voice that calls be whispered in the ear 
 In no state speech, the truth as truth abides, 
 Speaking to those who hear with reverent sense. 
 A wind, the songs of turtles in the pines, 
 The scent of autumn airs may prove to hearts 
 That heed evangels of the higher will ; 
 Therefore obey this present voice and live 
 In stories that shall tell the deeds of this 
 Our day of chance. Disloyal prove, and die. 
 Or live the jest of fame, and have men say 
 In aftertimes, 'These went on noble search, 
 But failed through doubt and timorous mind,' 
 
 and so 
 Shall others come and take our crowns and near 
 The King shall reap advantage of our sloth, 
 And gain the smiles and prayers of happy 
 
 saints. 
 Not chance, but faith, the profit holds of this 
 Our quest. Halfway will meet us heaven, but 
 
 takes 
 A pledge of foreworks; ere reward is fruit 
 Within our reach desire must blossom out 
 With zealous deed. This precedent, avouched 
 By high degree, appeals with deed to deed: 
 
 Don Martin Perez, courtly, grey and sage, 
 
 A leisure-pensioned sailor of the King 
 
 Who made more knights and sailors by his talks 
 
 In one short year than half the schools in Spain, 
 
 As midman in his youth sailed venture-wise 
 
THE HOUSE DOI.ORES. 49 
 
 Joined with a master seeking coast or isle 
 Unknown, but prospered little, meeting winds 
 And shipping boisterous seas, till, purpose balked, 
 The master turned, took surcease in his grog 
 And anchored in a calm at height of stars. 
 But his young midman, bent on enterprise, 
 Beheld the east burst into foam and heard 
 The horns of Tritons blowing down the gale. 
 When presto! blared by callow midman lips 
 Thrust out like any Puck's, the trumpet called 
 To ropes ; the bark leaped to the surf's embrace 
 As maiden to a lover's long desired, 
 And ere the rum-drenched master woke to stare, 
 A pearl-white tropic dawn fell on the sea, 
 Showing long lines of dappled isles that burst, 
 Like crocus roses from a summer pond, 
 Outposts of palmy shores that through a frith. 
 Broad like a bay, gave to the salty vast 
 A river's tempering tides. Fair guerdon, that, 
 Of faith that took the times of providence, 
 And likewise augment to the Spanish crown 
 Of glory and imperial lands. Up we ! 
 Enchanted tracts before us lie. The Cross, 
 Our country and our King appeal ! " 
 
 Adjured by these 
 Enkindling words, they entered into vow 
 To journey till they found the King's desire, 
 Or else attained the bounds of land and sea. 
 
 From thence Ortega with a chosen few pressed 
 on 
 
50 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 And came to bold Sau Bruao's utmost verge, 
 And there beheld what stirred his Ivatin blood, 
 The blue Puerto rolled amongst the hills ; 
 A long expanse of inland waves sheen with 
 The light of morning skies, and virgin shores 
 And terraced landscapes smiling in the sun. 
 Star-crested night had sprinkled with cool dews 
 The land that stirred not with a sign of life, 
 But fair beyond the vision of a dream, 
 And fair within as fair without the seas ; 
 Two islands, emeralds in a turquoise belt 
 About the thews of a grim mount that watched 
 Above the mystic Gate, smote starlike through 
 The blending miracle of sea and sky 
 And gleamed enchantment on their wondering 
 sight. 
 
 What ghost seraphic, what mild saint of heaven 
 Had hither led? thej'- asked ; and, answering, 
 
 blessed 
 Their sire of Assis, Francis, marked with wounds 
 Of Him who bade his servants bind and loose. 
 How soon they thought to loose these pleasing 
 
 shores 
 From thrall of heathen silence long endured ! 
 Whereof was given a sign in prophecy. 
 For while they watched, behold, a cloud that 
 
 wrapt 
 The mount about moved down and built along 
 The multifarious windings of the shores 
 
the; house DOLORES. 51 
 
 Dim shapes — the outlines of a city rolled 
 
 In plenitude of mists against the slopes 
 
 That upward climbed ; while down the strip of sea, 
 
 Leaving no wake within the tranquil wave, 
 
 Moved shadowy argosies, where, save of old 
 
 The freighted image of the crescent moon 
 
 Led down the winding frith and seaward on 
 
 By pilot of the Evening Star, there came 
 
 Not since the world began the keel of ship. 
 
 And thus they saw the after years revealed 
 
 And read in phantasy the pledge of all. 
 
 And now Ortega, choosing two beside, 
 Left there the rest a day and night, and traced 
 The shores about and saw at eve, emblazed 
 With splendors of the setting sun, the Gate 
 Unnamed, the doorway of the wonder-holding sea. 
 All night they heard the murmurs of the tides 
 That crawled beneath a slowly lifting mist. 
 And rose to greet the dawn's resplendent train. 
 And saw, high o'er the lesser hills, the peaks 
 Of snow gleam in the wide-extended blue, 
 And thought how myriad feet must tread the soil 
 They trod, and myriad watchers scan, as they, 
 The sky and greet the after-coming dawns. 
 But there they built no house, nor left a sign 
 To tell their triumph save, and only save, 
 A wooden cross upon the windy beach. 
 
52 THE PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 But God is one and hasteth not; one heart 
 
 Is that which throbs through time, and breaks 
 
 and cries. 
 Men were before what men we are ; our blood 
 Was theirs and shall be others; God is God 
 And makes his waiting purpose plain at last. 
 
 And now the King again said, " Build," and came 
 
 De Anza, knight and captain puissant, 
 
 With priests and soldiers, and a substance great, 
 
 In charge to found a new presidial realm ; 
 
 Who made long search of all the shores about, 
 
 Feeding prophetic vision on the things 
 
 He saw of wave and shoreland, wood and stream; 
 
 And taking note of fertile plots, he chose 
 
 The sites for mission and presidial holds : 
 
 The one beside Dolores slender brook, 
 
 Shut in by misty hills, but looking round 
 
 On sunny slopes and meads, as also on 
 
 A bit of restful wave, the Weeper's Bight, 
 
 So named because he heard the Ohlones there, 
 
 Mothers belike, make mournful weeping for the 
 
 dead; 
 The other near the sea and on a noble hill, 
 The better thus to guard the priceless Port 
 And reap the promise of the hidden years. 
 Nor stayed his search beside the mid- most sea ; 
 But up San Pablo's winding shores and through 
 The pass of San Rafael, to see at last 
 Sonoma's mountains lift their lines against 
 
the; house doi,ore;s, 53 
 
 The sky and frame a picture of delight 
 
 In slopes and plains through which, like lighter 
 
 strokes 
 Of some old master's brush toned to the shades 
 And splendors of his larger dream, the rills 
 Greeu-marged, down-drifting, sought the quiet 
 
 seas. 
 
 This done, back to his post De Anza rode, 
 Charging Rivera with the King's behest- 
 Rivera, bravest proved of all who drew 
 Their swords in conquest of the Golden Land, 
 A soul well fit to match those knightly ones 
 Whose armor caught the lights of Faery land 
 And flashed them round the unperceiving world; 
 Yet not through Faeryland was his to ride, 
 But his to trace the desert path and make 
 His heart a lamp to light the darkened land; 
 Serving or ruling, always just, he fell 
 At last, as well became the knight he was, 
 Defending woman's honor and his own ; 
 For so it chanced he held a post, himself 
 And twelve beside, a petty fort, but now, 
 As sheltering wives and helpless babes borne 
 
 thence 
 In times of fear, grown to the rank of some 
 Grey rook, the treasure fortress of a king. 
 At midnight, when the desert slept in gloom 
 And torrid silence underneath a sky 
 Whose stars fought in their courses, raining hail 
 
54 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Of meteor-fire, a horde of Yumas, 
 
 Yelling demon wrath and sending showers 
 
 Of poisoned shafts before, set on the fort ; 
 
 And these few held the gate and puny walls, 
 
 Piling the savage slain in gory heaps. 
 
 But Don Rivera, wounded, died at morn, 
 
 As died the rest; and when there came a guard 
 
 Which had delivered, making haste, they found 
 
 Him lying with his foes, but grasping still 
 
 With bronzed right hand his blade, red-dripping 
 
 Heathen blood, and on his face defiance set. 
 
 Such was the knightliness that kept the sword 
 
 And vigiled while the zealous padres wrought 
 
 To rear Saint Francis' altar in the north. 
 
 But when, beforetimes, Don Moraga built 
 
 The fort beside the arm of sea and loud 
 
 The bloodhound cannon barked, from sheer 
 
 affright 
 The Ohlones and Romanyans, native tribes, 
 Fled to the isles in tule crafts, nor came 
 Again to claim their h )mes for two full moons, 
 And then in anger, setting fiercely on 
 The priests and soldiers, till the mild Palou 
 Held up the picture of the Blessed Maid 
 Folding in gentle arms the Holy Babe, 
 At which some left their weapons by the bight 
 And kissed the padre's hands, becoming neophytes* 
 But others stood and kept a wrathful mood 
 Until Grijalva chastened them with thorns, 
 
THE house; DOI^ORES. 55 
 
 Compelling peace of all, save oue, a priest 
 Of demon rites, a sorcerer deep-taught 
 In grisly spells ; of mighty frame and limb, 
 Majestic-shouldered, eagle-faced and topped 
 With a gigantic poll, whose unkempt mass 
 Flowed with the winds as seaweeds with the tides. 
 A fierce-orbed eye was his and voice that spoke 
 Authority; with one he awed, and with 
 The other ruled the land, girt as he went 
 With charms and amulets of whispering shells. 
 Because, when first they saw him gaunt from fasts. 
 Coyote by the Spaniards aptly called, 
 But Copah, meaning fire, amongst his tribes; 
 Unconquered when his people bowed, he fled 
 To Tamalpais and dwelt amongst its crags 
 And pines, where, as the Miwok prophets tell, 
 There sleeps a god recumbent on the ledge 
 Five leagues extending toward the Golden Gate, 
 As one may see at sunset when a flame 
 Burns round his head and rolls returning 
 Toward his feet : his hair, which seaward streams 
 
 a league 
 In length, the plowing avalanches comb 
 And deck with towering redwoods, bole and 
 
 branch, 
 Torn from the forest glooms, as sachem's deck 
 Their own with plumes of eagle and of kite. 
 
 From aery spaces crystal clear, above 
 The peaks of Shasta, came in the far morn 
 
56 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Of virgin light a mighty race, half earthy, 
 
 Half the children of the gods, to be 
 
 The sires and guides of mortal man. From these 
 
 The hunter's skill, the warrior's courage 
 
 And the spells of sorcery, healing and of 
 
 Making rain — with whom this god descended from 
 
 The ice-embattled mount to find his rest 
 
 On this; and till he wakes the Indian child 
 
 Must suffer fate. Escept a power beyond 
 
 The gods deny to him the waters of 
 
 The sacred rill, vast woe awaits unto 
 
 The end who holds the Indian's wrested lands. 
 
 For in that early time halfway the mountain's 
 
 slope 
 There welled a thermal fountain to the light, 
 And there a deadly serpent, laving lengths 
 Of sapphire folds, kept guard ; while from his jaws 
 A slimy venom oozed, and mingled with 
 The clear cup of the rill, that none might drink 
 Thereof and live. High on an eerie pine 
 A raven croaked, waiting a thousand years 
 The waking of the god, who drank, ascending 
 Toward his rest, and will, descending, drink again, 
 And so renew his strength to work his will. 
 And sate his f oredetermined wrath ; but if 
 A mortal drink thereof, its virtue fails 
 The god, and all his strength remains as man's. 
 So watched the rook above with demon eyes. 
 And hissed the serpent poisoning all the brook. 
 
THE HOUSE DOIvORES. 57 
 
 In Storm and shine climbed wizard Copah up 
 
 The windy ledges to the Sleeper's brow 
 
 From which the hair flows seaward down a league 
 
 And cursed the stranger by the god he praised; 
 
 Cursed with a woe the white-faced padres ; cursed 
 
 The bloodhound cannon barking in the fort; 
 
 The cross with wizard incantations cursed, 
 
 Until the darkness blotted land and sea ; 
 
 And then at noon of night amongst his crags 
 
 He lifted up a voice that drowned the notes 
 
 Of winds reverberant in the swaying pines, 
 
 An echo rolling through the voids of night, 
 
 Till they who chanced in rocky bights or creeks 
 
 About the mount to ply a midnight oar 
 
 Heard sounds articulate and manifold, 
 
 As though a thousand tongues in clamors spoke. 
 
 Intent to know if sign appeared, each day 
 The stealthy sachem, shadow-like, crept from 
 His misty lodge ; but saw at last an end 
 Of all the ill he wished — uncoiled and dead 
 The typhon lay, and 'twixt his gaping jaws 
 A ragged stone hurled by a mortal hand, 
 And dead beside him there the eerie rook. 
 
 With grievous cry that shivered through the 
 
 gloom 
 The savage fled, and, upward climbing, stood 
 Against the carven Shape. The Ohlones saw 
 
58 THE PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 (As now their grey-haired tribesmen, chanting 
 
 tell), 
 And while they watched a white mist wrought 
 
 about 
 His form the semblance of a cavern vast 
 And high. A ghostly paleness spread within ; 
 And through it, bearing torches, came a file 
 Of wizard men, topped all with mighty polls 
 Of flying hair ; before them crawled a dragon 
 Frothing fire, which, flowing down in lurid rills 
 And mingling with the wizards' torches, made 
 Unearthly light about the head of Copah, 
 Gazing from afar. Then came, a little 
 Space before, a sachem taller than the rest 
 Who beckoned unto Copah, and he passed 
 Into the cave and so was lost to sight ; 
 But thus it hapt with him : they made a pyre, 
 Those wizard men, and stripped from Copah 's 
 
 wrists 
 His amulets of whispering shells, and from 
 His neck the charms of dragon's teeth, and heaped 
 Them on the pyre ; then bound and laid thereon 
 The wizard's self, chanting a death-song, till 
 Red flames en wreathed his form, and in a robe 
 Of smoke his spirit passed upon the winds, 
 To dwell in aery spaces, crystal clear, 
 Above the peaks of Shasta, whence of old 
 The archons of the Miwoks came to be 
 The sires and guides of mortal men. Seeing 
 Their priest and bond of race departed thus, 
 
THE HOUSE DOI.ORES. 59 
 
 The remnant flung their craft of war and all 
 Their charms and heathen spells into the sea, 
 And, bowing, meekly kissed the padre's hands. 
 
 So was the conquest of the land complete^ 
 
 And rose Dolores at the utmost shore, 
 
 A house and fold for heathen little ones 
 
 Made lambs of Christ ; lowly but strong, and sweet 
 
 With sheltering eaves and prayers, and shepherd 
 
 hands 
 To keep and lead. So blessing, it was bless'd. 
 
60 THE Pr<ANTlNG OF THE CROSS. 
 
 VI. DORa INEZ. 
 
 SOME respite left it from the last decay , 
 Dolores' house was blest beyond the rest 
 Its compeers. Round about it Yerba rose 
 Girt by the dimpling seas, and there began 
 The dreams of Spain to merge into the day ; 
 And there the doughty commandants, the arm 
 And voice of Spain, held firm and easy sway. 
 A frequent season filled with mirth and sport 
 Of gallant sorts the long bright days beguiled 
 And starry nights. There Cupid kept his court 
 As bravely as in palaces and bowed 
 In honor to the dusky maids as at 
 The feet of royal dames ; and days ot troth 
 And bridal feasts were matched with rustic pomp 
 And minstrelsy. So went the merry round 
 Of pastoral years unbroken by a dread. 
 
 But now there grew a menace in the north ; 
 Down-groping through an ice-strewn autumn sea, 
 Into Bodega sailed a Muscove fleet, 
 There anchored and disbarked an Aleut horde 
 To hold the Northern shores, contesting thus 
 The ancient claim of Spain ; which thing perceived 
 The commandant who watched with jealous eye 
 The seas about and far-extending shores ; 
 And war was nursing in the Spanish heart, 
 
D05?A INEZ. 61 
 
 I^ike swarms of gadflies in a secret place ; 
 And war had been, except that Cupid's dart 
 Proved swifter than the sword of Mars, and so 
 Slew one that all might live ; yet that slain lived 
 Again, returned from passion's living death. 
 
 Don Luis then was commandant, with seat 
 
 At Yerba fairer grown beside the sea 
 
 Locked in the shelter of the fruitful land, 
 
 And fairer made by Don Luis, a glass 
 
 Of courtesy, and brave and wise withal 
 
 And noble in his mind, and blessed with one 
 
 Fair daughter, Doiia Inez, loved of all, 
 
 And lovely she in utmost gentlehood 
 
 And in the meekness of her maiden mind ; 
 
 Spain's proud, voluptuous grace united there 
 
 With life from old restraints and pomps of time 
 
 Divorced to make who made an empire's peace. 
 
 As Helen made another's woe. Than she 
 
 None more devout, yet none more blithe nor free; 
 
 Castilian roses bloomed on either olive cheek, 
 
 Which none but bravest lips might pluck, and yet 
 
 Unpluckt, when, on a furious sea that beat 
 
 Against the ragged Heads, a Muscove ship 
 
 Hove through the Gate, and anchored near the 
 
 fort; 
 Her master, RezanofF, a gallant Count, 
 And fired with bold designs. Openly to trade 
 He came, but secretly to spy the fort, 
 Explore the full-waved rivers flowing down 
 And measure the defenses of the land. 
 
62 THK PI^ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 As fit his rank and as was meet to treat 
 A guest, Don I/uis gave an audience to 
 The Count, and in his honor spread a feast ; 
 And so, constrained, he tarried manj^ days, 
 Returning courtesy for courtesy, 
 But ever taking note and casting chance 
 In thought against the potency of Spain, 
 Until an eve, at feast within the hall 
 Presidial, at her father's side, he saw, 
 And for the first time saw, the Lady Inez, 
 And, seeing, in his heart confessed himself 
 Her slave, and henceforth dreamed of only her. 
 
 Meantime there came great ones, and wise, sent 
 
 forth 
 From distant courts and schools in learning's 
 
 name. 
 Of these Chemisso chief, and Kotzebue, 
 Whom Arguello received with honors, made 
 Them holidays with baits of bulls and feats 
 Of horsemanship; showed them the land, and 
 
 sent 
 Them on their quest with generous words, as did 
 The Governor, speaking for the Court of Spain. 
 But Rezanofi", toiled by the maiden grace 
 Of Dona Inez, tarried still, forgot 
 His bold designs and sued with lover's zest 
 Where he had meant to lay the trains of war. 
 But Dona Inez yielded not at first, 
 eeing he was of different blood and faith ; 
 
D05Ja INEZ. 63 
 
 And doubting her own heart, if it were love 
 Or something less, she gave the stranger for 
 His own. But once, when on the bait they 
 
 looked, 
 And while the vaquero rode round the pit. 
 And " Toro ! Toro ! " from a hundred throats 
 Burst on the air, the maddened brute dashed at 
 His mounted foe, doing to death the horse ; 
 And soon had gored the man, but Rezanoff 
 Leaped to the pit, caught up the shivered lance 
 And drove it to the creature's heart, yet not 
 Without sore cost, for through his gloveless palm 
 The staff was forced, making a ragged wound 
 From which the blood gushed forth and reddened 
 
 all 
 The white lawn of his vest. And Dona Inez, 
 Binding up the wound with her white kerchief, 
 
 there 
 Confessed in her own heart a deeper wound. 
 
 ** A noble courage, Senor Count ; a task 
 That daring sets before the brave," she said. 
 While fitful flushes mantled either cheek. 
 
 And he: **No task is that, sweet lady, nay, 
 Nor peril, where on courage waiteth praise 
 Of gracious lips tutored of gracious heart, 
 And ministry like this of thine." 
 
64 the; pi^anting of the cross. 
 
 Then she : 
 "You speak no word unworthy, knight of Spain, 
 Or any puissance that ever yet 
 Hath been amongst the gentle of the earth. 
 I wonder since I thought no other race 
 So noble as mine own in courtesy." 
 
 She ceased, and he, returning: "Here indeed 
 Upon these maiden shores, and in the glow 
 Of graciousness whereof your maiden self 
 Is sun, I have learned much of courtesy, 
 And shall forever debtor be to him, 
 Your father, holding rule of knightly arms, 
 And thee, the fair enshrinement of the land." 
 Which said, he bowed right gallantly, and with 
 His aides returned to ship. 
 
 A day of sun 
 Lay on the land and sea, and all the arc 
 Of heaven was fleckless azure, when from out 
 The shadow of his three-decked floating tow'r 
 The wounded sailor's pinnace shot across 
 The rippling interval, and set him on 
 The shore fast by the low presidial gate ; 
 For now more sorely wounded in his heart 
 For love of Dona Inez, and because 
 Of all her tender care, he made his plea 
 Once more, whereto she 3delded, and it pleased 
 Her father's mind, who knew the stranger brave 
 And held him just ; and just he was indeed, 
 
DOf^A INEZ. 66 
 
 But such was made by love for her whose eyes 
 Drank up the rivers of his warlike wish 
 And paled ambition's lawless star within, 
 So that he saw but her, the land's delight, 
 And held in her the conquest of the land. 
 
 Yet was this love not sealed with bridal vows, 
 Nor should be till he voyaged and came again, 
 Fulfilling service by a space of years ; 
 And so with pledge of faith he sailed away, 
 And with him passed the menace of the land. 
 From her lone window at the eve of day 
 Watched Dona Inez till the topmast dipp'd away, 
 And high above her lover's ship the glow 
 Made signs for her who kept a maiden's watch, 
 True-hearted, dreaming in a maiden's bower — 
 Dreaming the dreams a woman dreams but once, 
 The all-infolding visions of a world 
 Sweet with the airs of brooding love whose day 
 From morn to eve is lit with faery light. 
 And blest with voices crying, "Hail!" 
 
 In sleep she dreamed again, more blessed dreams 
 
 than those 
 In waking light. The slow dividing years 
 Were passed, and now his ship's tall mast 
 Rose o'er the puny craft about the bay; 
 The salvos broke in thunders and the hills 
 Spoke back their honors to a Count and liege 
 Of an imperial lord. All like a queen 
 She stood before the altar in her robes 
 
66 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Of nuptial, and as at a royal troth 
 
 All things were done and said. Then far away 
 
 Beyond the seas, to cities and the courts 
 
 Of kings, he whose she was had borne her in his 
 
 love. 
 Moreover, there his castle was that waited, 
 Rich with pomp and plenty and the love 
 That made it so ; and there within the door 
 Were voices crying, "Blest of women, hail! " 
 
 Meanwhile, about the Northern fields of ice 
 With its young master dreaming likewise in 
 The light of summer lands, the good ship beat 
 A year, fulfilled its time and westward plowed 
 To shelter in a far Siberian port ; 
 Whence, journeying on, the sailor, sickened sore 
 With fever, came to Yakooskt, and there died 
 Whispering an alien speech and strange to those 
 Who stood about ; but she who loved him well. 
 And watched in her far home across the sea 
 The coming of his ship for seven full years, 
 Knew not, but ever said at autumn when 
 Returned the selfsame day that brought him first : 
 *' He comes to-day;" and if a mighty wind 
 At night howled round the ** Heads " and shook the 
 Low presidial house, she looked at morn 
 To see his white sail in the bay, but looked in vain. 
 
 Then, long before she knew the worst, 
 
 Her heart consented and she watched no more ; 
 
 But like a life that early blooms with death 
 
 LofC. 
 
DONA. INEZ. 67 
 
 And fruits with silence of the grave, her hope 
 
 Declined, grew spectral, and at last fell in the dust ; 
 
 And weeping ever in her silent bower, 
 
 She said : "This year my spirit journeys far away. 
 
 And they will wrap me in the white of death 
 
 Long ere the golden poppies blow, or o'er 
 
 San Pablo's winding waves, rich, laden with 
 
 The breath of summer, come the gales again. 
 
 So I shall pass beyond the darkening West, 
 
 And far beyond the light-consuming sea, 
 
 The great sea of the West, — mysterious, vague, — 
 
 Shall pass and find my heart in Paradise 
 
 And keep it till he comes from prison glooms 
 
 Or distant wars to claim it, who is leal 
 
 And noble, passing all the men of earth." 
 
 But when her spirit's burden heavier grew, 
 She sought the House of Grief, and there before 
 Our Lady's shrine poured out her soul in prayer. 
 " O, Mary, Mother, Virgin ! " thus she prayed, 
 "** A virgin's grief is hers who brings 
 A virgin's heart as token to thy shrine. 
 O sorrowful no more ! bind up the heart 
 Of sorrow in a virgin's breast, and watch 
 For her who cannot watch until he comes 
 Whose is my virgin's faith to meet and bless 
 Me in that paradise beyond the sea." 
 
 So prayed she, gaining strength for daily need ; 
 Or sometimes when a gloom was fallen in 
 
68 THK PI.ANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 The holy house, or when a fresher fountain 
 
 Opened in her heart, she felt a nameless doubt. 
 
 Sometimes a nameless fear, strike like a knell 
 
 Or sudden cry of flame swift through her thought. 
 
 And then she wept unheard, communing with 
 
 Each spectre fear or torturing doubt. " False, he ? 
 
 Nay, false he cannot be ; such faith as his must 
 
 Needs o'erturn the world of truth in falling. 
 
 He is true! yea, rather let me think him 
 
 False in all things else, yet true in this, his faith 
 
 To me, who, faithful waiting, die for him 
 
 A thousand deaths, and would a thousand times 
 
 Be born and die to show my faithful love ! 
 
 O, Mary, Mother, Virgin, show me how 
 
 A virgin's heart may break again — 
 
 A thousand times— and yet may keep that life 
 
 Of her that virgin is and true of faith ! " 
 
 And so she kept her dolor time, and left 
 
 The holy place for vigils in her home. 
 
 Slow passed the days, and passed at last her 
 
 doubts. 
 Her fears; her tears at last were dried, and like 
 A saint in halo of an ecstasy 
 That painters love to paint, she went and came 
 And made a peace and sweetness where she came. 
 At length — the length of many a day and month, 
 The measure of a sorrow-nuptial — came 
 The sorrow-sealing word ; but since no more 
 Her grief could know, as once, a sudden wound,. 
 
DOfJA INEZ. 69 
 
 She heard unmoved the tidings which it brought 
 From o'er the great sea of the West, telling 
 Her lover dead : passing from lip to lip 
 And borne through every zone before she heard, 
 And then from a grey sailor who had held 
 The tale a useless thing, repeating now 
 Because a memory linked it with the place, 
 Not deeming she for whom it went still watched, 
 Though not as once beside the Golden Sea. 
 
 And now there fell a plague at Yerba ; all 
 The year the fever wasted sore, and half 
 The people perished, and the priests despaired ; 
 But Don Ivuis in desperate answer found 
 The leafy pass of San Rafael, and built 
 A refuge there amid the whispering trees 
 That darkle o'er irriguous meads and shade 
 The summer rills whose fountains gender from 
 Upsloping hills ; and there the cheerful airs 
 Revived the sick ; and thus the plague was stayed. 
 
 And Dona Inez went in weeds and helped 
 The sick, and there remained within the shrine 
 And taught the orphaned ones left of the plague, 
 And also there, amongst the ancient books 
 Brought from the crypts of Alcala, she found 
 A story told by one, a priest, of his own soul. 
 And one whose pain was mirror of her own : 
 ^' Let God be true," the reverend history ran; 
 *' And Christ forgive an erring son if earth 
 
70 THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Too much h is thoughts engage, for sometimes when 
 
 The voices of my brother monks no more 
 
 Are heard in chants and prayers, and virgin stars 
 
 In long processions, choiring, throng the aisles 
 
 Of yon wide temple of the night, and springs 
 
 A breeze across the land sweet with the breath 
 
 Of spice and tamarind, which, pausing like 
 
 A lover at my window, whispers low 
 
 And flings about my neck its viewless arms, 
 
 I feel, heart-deep, the passion of a dream 
 
 In far Iberian summers dreamed; I live 
 
 Again the bliss of days too fond to last, 
 
 The heaven of love I trust to find beyond 
 
 These shades of night and autumn's moaning seas, 
 
 "God made us twain that, perfect grown, we might 
 
 In unity attain the substance of 
 
 His Holy Church wherein the Lamb and Bride 
 
 Complete the glory of the heavenly dream. 
 
 But not in sense alone is wrought the sign ; 
 
 A fire ethereal is the spring of love, 
 
 And likest God are they who prove its flame. 
 
 ' 'In those my days of warmth and light I watched, 
 
 The ranks of heaven's eternal cavalcade 
 
 In silent pomp ride down the vaulted night ; 
 
 But mostly one I held, pale planet Love, 
 
 Now Hesper named, that sank through tearful skies 
 
 And died the million-times-repeated death 
 
 Of amorous grief. Deep mystery of life ! 
 
■DO^A INEZ. 71 
 
 Her life, that gave itself to death which moved 
 
 Invisibly along the faultless lines 
 
 Of that fair house wherein her spirit dwelt ! 
 
 Tale of the almug tree, that, dying, breathes 
 
 A faint and fragrant mist, a redolence, 
 
 That circles like a censer's smoke about 
 
 The forest of its birth ! So Cosmie passed 
 
 Into Nirvana of ethereal sense, 
 
 And evermore in visions I beheld 
 
 Her grown to kinship with the stars of dawn 
 
 All through such mystic change as Pleion's maids 
 
 And oflfspring came to their immortal state. 
 
 Fair are the paths beyond that tryst of stars 
 
 Where love abides the day. God's last is best." 
 
 Thus Doiia Inez read and gathered strength. 
 
 And nearer came to what her life must be ; 
 
 And so, at last, the veil she took, and in 
 
 Saint Barbara's holy house consumed her days 
 
 In kindly ministries until full half 
 
 The century dragged away. Meanwhile she saw 
 
 Come, one by one, the changes of the years : 
 
 First, war with Spain, when by the shore great 
 
 ships 
 With bellying sails bore down and scourged the 
 
 land 
 That, doubting, waited till a fate, such fate 
 As might, should fall its share from fitful war ; 
 Then down the slopes of sunrise hills, and through 
 The sunset gateway of the seas, shouting 
 
n THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS. 
 
 An Argonautic cry, the Saxons came 
 Seeking a fabled wealth before, strawing 
 A fabulous behind. So Dona Inez 
 Saw a new race, swift and reckless, pluck 
 Her own from oflf the seat of power, and lift 
 A new flag up to wave above the soil ; 
 And ere she went in reverend age to death 
 A new faith took the honors of the old, 
 And southward, northward, widened through the 
 land. 
 
 THK END.