LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©fjajU-I^L iojHjriigljt 3ftt. Shelf ^SsA&S" UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. AFTER MANY YEARS CjPlc£*+d> c/Keny- Qycuradl AFTER MANY YEARS BY y RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE AUTHOR OF "MY OFFICIAL WIFE," " DELILAH OF HARLEM, "THE MASKED VENUS," ETC. 7- CHICAGO AND NE F. TENNYSON NEELY, P MDCCCXCV ^7^ COPYRIGHT 1895 RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE All rig/its reserved DEDICATED TO MY WIFE January 2, 1895 PART I. REFLECTION. PART II. SENTIMENT. PART III. HISTORY AND PLACE. PART IV. POLITICS AND MILITARY. PART I. REFLECTION. PART I. REFLECTION. Gbe "fUgbt TKJlatcb" at amsterfram. Proud is the city of Amsterdam, high fenced from the angry sea, With its towering masts, and heaped-up wealth, hard by the Zuyder Zee. For Nature's frown could not beat down the burghers stout and true Who held the town for centuries, while loud war's tocsin blew. And naught could fright the men of might who curbed the swelling main ; They fought against the foreign foe, and humbled haughty Spain ! Here the stout Dutchmen long have kept the trust with bosoms bold, And fathers guarded for their sons the city's keys to hold. I 2 THE " NIGHT WA TCH" A T AMSTERDAM. In counsel grave, with mustering bands, and men of war at hand, The burghers saw their argosies blown back from every land. While empires tottered to their fall — Rome knew the battering ram — The city's colors floated free on the walls of Am- sterdam. And, in the great commercial mart, in pictured splendor, see — To-day, the faces of the brave who ruled the Zuyder Zee. Beyond the diamond's glittering flash, or reddest gold sequin, Shines out to-day the deathless name of great Rembrandt van Rhyn. Here, in a marble palace high, his priceless pict- ure glows : The " Night Watch " — as it went the rounds — to baffle civil foes ! Fair is the hall where, shining yet, upon the trophied walls, The " Night Watch " gleams ! The City's pride ! Its lesson never palls ! For pictured there, the train-band stout, the Captain at their head, Go forth in arms, with beating drums, the city walls to tread ! THE " NIGHT IVA TCH" A T AMSTERDAM. , Lest foreign foe, or civil broil, or inroad of the sea, Should break the golden peace which reigned upon the Zuyder Zee. Great Rembrandt sleeps — immortal, though — his lesson ne'er forgot — Still, the true burghers zealous watch for foemen coming not ! Though on the tranquil land and sea no hostile bugles sound, The trust is kept, in simple faith, and still the Watch goes round. There is no treasure which could win the " Night Watch " from its place, And solemn Dutchmen con the lessons Time can not efface. When all is still, at midnight's hour, the picture comes to me ; And oft I dream of that grave quest by the low Zuyder Zee. My Country ! Torn with factions now, where are the mighty great Whose shades should stalk, a warning band, to watch the threatened state ? For civil jars, corruption's worm, the anarch's poisoned speech, The cold contempt of haughty rich — gross evils beyond reach ! Make every day a wider gap between Columbia's sons Than lanes of slaughtered dead, struck down, be- neath the foemen's guns ! Come forth ! Immortal Washington ! Great Lincoln ! Grant, the True ! And walk the country's boundaries, and lessons teach anew ! That brother love makes brother blood — that Union strength imparts, And, in the night which shades us now, keep watch upon our hearts ! We still can mock at foreign foes — but bid the signal sound To rally for the Land we Love — and, let the " Watch " go round ! THE VEILED MUSE. Gbe tDcilcD /Ruse. She haunts this misty world, we know, Though veiled to mortal eyes — The muse who heard the bright stars sing That morn in Paradise. Her footsteps strewed the Asian world With Song's eternal flowers, Which bloomed — the lotus of the heart- In brighter days than ours. For all was peace, and all was love — The sword slept in its sheath, And God the Father then smiled down On heavenly peace beneath ; But, passion soon woke Sorrow's lyre, The ark o'er man's grave sailed, And her eternal shining face Now hovers o'er us, veiled ! mystic halls, in ages dead, The " King " old China's lays Swelled out in notes whose spirit voice Is lost in later days. THE VEILED MUSE. A silence wrapped the Flowery Land For, west to India's strand, The Veda's solemn song rang out Beneath her magic hand ! And Persia and Assyria knew That one immortal face : The singing muse, who in our hearts Still holds the highest place. But Babel's mound the wolf's howl mocks, And, Egypt's songs are done ; Yet, muses nine were born — in love — Beneath a Grecian sun ! The bright-browed Isis, whose grand eyes Shone down on Philae's isle, Knew every trace of her veiled face, Her all-entrancing smile ; But, Death and Silence rule to-day Old Egypt's caverned halls ! No more by Babylonian streams The Hebrew harp enthralls ! Great Homer, honey-lipped, well knew The goddness, fond and kind ; She lingered, star-eyed, at his birth, Yet the great Greek was blind ! No man may know why veiled she walks, From our eyes, sealed apart, But, with her sacred loving hand She touched that Grecian's heart ! THE VEILED MUSE. The shrines of Brahma, Vishnu too, Are silent in our days ; And, echo no more in the groves The old Castalian lays ! For Sin crept in, Man's heart grew black, And, in those days of old, A finger touched the gods of Greece, Then, Art and Song lay cold ! The laughing muses vanished then, Great Pan died racked with pain ! To pale-faced Christ, with hand of power, They bowed, yet — all in vain ! For fled the song, and veiled the muse, From Man's heart proud and wrong ! The human soul a burden bears Too sad for olden song ! The gods are dead ! The muses fled ! Still the veiled goddess clings Unto our better nature, singing Bright eternal things I Grave Milton felt her fond caress ! She haunted Dante's dreams ! And wandered with our Shakespeare, by Those winding English streams ! Great Mother veiled ! Dear Goddess ! All Before your altar bow ! In fadeless beauty, you are still A presence near us now ! THE VEILED MUSE. For, stooping from your heavenly clouds, Though Goethe wooed — in pride — You leaned and kissed that friendless lad, Pale Schiller, at his side ! You linger near us, here below, Though still you walk apart ; And thrill the tides which come and go In the fond human heart ! For, leaving kings and fortune's fools To mock at all you bring, You waked the slumbering heart of Burns And bade that peasant sing ! Be near us in these later days ! Our hearts your mandates hold As God's own law ! You touch the bays Of Song, with heaven-sent gold ! Friend of the poor and friendless ! Still Unto a dark world bring That mystic smile which wreathes your lips In God's eternal Spring ! BENEATH THE PYRAMID. JBeneatb tbe jp^ramfD. " The Treasury of the Kings of the Twelfth Dynasty Un- earthed \ y '—New York Herald, March 9, 1894. Far in the dreamy land of Nile, Hard by the fringing Libyan sand, Where the stern Sphinx keeps aye its watch, The Pyramids in silence stand. Blown off from great Napoleon's field, Upon their rocky faces clings The dead slaves' ashes, mingling now With sacred dust of Egypt's kings ! The thought which framed the pyramid Still to its veiled mystery clings ; And haunting genii whisper there Of dark, unfathomable things. The magic of masonic art Is hidden in its squares and lines, Its mystic shape, with artful craft, A long-lost secret lore confines. IO BENEATH THE PYRAMID. Still, as the north star crawls its course In cycles, round the boreal pole, Through galleries dark, a gleaming spark Recalls the great inventive soul. His very art is dead to us, The secrets buried now for aye ; While underneath, in rift and crypt, The human spoiler delves to-day. Beneath the sparkling Southern Cross Where God's great stars gleam calmly down, Far 'neath the fabric Reason raised, They find, to-day, an earthly crown ! A crypt, where in the royal tomb Lie gems and gold, the signs of power — Man's kingly crown prized here below, As mark of one triumphal hour. 'Tis well ! The cunning magic art, The web of thought, proud Reason's work, Is lost — To-day, in Christ's own land Flies proud, the crescent of the Turk ! The minion of an earthly king With joy brings forth the badge of Power — Which clattered from a drooping head Prone once in Death's imperial hour ! BENEATH THE PYRAMID. Ah ! Fool and blind ! To only find Where Reason's arts are lost for aye, The crown of man's dominion brief, Poor puppets of a summer day ! Lay down the dross ! Let the dead sleep ! Lift up your eyes to nobler things ! When Reason fails, then turn the heart To God — the King of earthly kings ! His treasure gleams in Heaven's blue skies Above the baffled reasoner's pride — Where pyramid weighs down the king His dust heaped there, his crown beside. Look up ! See there above us all The Southern Cross eternal swing ! In golden flames it still proclaims Of Power and Reason, God is King ! I2 AT RUBENS' TOMB. Bt IRubens' Gomb. Church of St. Jacques, Antwerp. It seems that something half immortal Around his memory clings Peter Paul Rubens' magic pencil Made him the peer of Kings They die. They vanish. And their haughty names Are lost with meaner dust ; But, Antwerp's pride stern Time defies, And mocks at moth and rust Here, o'er his tomb, the Virgin smiles With softly dreaming eyes, And, in Her arms, the Holy Child points out The path to Paradise. Wrought by his hand — in faith and trusting love — Above the painter, sleeping nigh, 'Tis Love Eternal tells the worldling here That Art can never die ! A T RUBENS' TOMB. In reverence the Christian gazes, awed To see that sad " Descent " He painted, after Death had stopped The way Our Saviour went ! Oh ! Mystery of Faith and Art ! His fame has endless youth ! Where Rubens sleeps — a graceful shade- There's Art and Love and Truth ! THE RECORD. XLhc IRecorfc. Youth laid its glowing hand upon my brow, The fire it lent is chilled and sinking now ! Love sang its song, and showed one face — a star — Its music sadly echoes down Memory's halls afar ! Hope smiled and flattered, to the very last — And from my side, unseen, went smiling past ! Life rushed on gaily, varied banks beside — And now, the harbor near, I float upon the tide ! The record, all summed up ! Howe'er the story ran — Of joys that thrilled, or hopes that failed, "There lived a man ! " THE UNFINISHED WINDOW. j- Gbe TDUtfintebefc TlClfnfcow in Bla&Mn's Sower. I LINGERED by the flowing Rhine in vacant mood, at falling eve, Reluctant, at the beck of night, the ever-witching scenes to leave ; And on the crag of Drachenfels, as purple shades began to lower, A ruined arch brought back to me, the story of Aladdin's Tower ! A score of years have silvered o'er the temples bright with gayest youth, Since last I marked the view I loved, and age brings now a solemn truth, That nothing perfect comes to us, it hovers just beyond our power, And every one a window owns, unfinished, in Aladdin's Tower ! The crystal vase, the faultless face, the rhyme which rings with dying fall, The form we strain unto our breast, the pleas- ures which must always pall. j 5 THE UNFINISHED WINDOW The dreams we wove, our cherished friends, the sweets which slowly turn to sour, Are proofs of that unfinished window gaping in Aladdin's Tower. We strain and grasp and just do pass the perfect in its ideal truth, And hoary age, a boy again, repeats the heedless faults of youth. The world is patched with perfect creeds, and codes to meet the changing hour, But every point of view shows still that faulty window in the Tower. That something short of perfect peace, that last ambition sorely missed, The chain which galls in secret 'neath the ropes of pearl upon the wrist, The world chase for the happy man, the evils under which we cower, Are standing proofs of ownership, in common, of Aladdin's Tower ! We seek the best, the better flies ! We crave perfection's glowing mould, And on the wearying chase we drag, with halt- ing steps and pulses cold. Would you be happy, wise, and true ? Would you be braver, better men ? Turn inward every critic eye ! Scan not Alad- din's Tower again ! IN ALA DDIN'S TO WER . j * That one unfinished window gapes forever o'er your neighbor's wall. Now, when the royal secret's learned, it is not in his tower at all ! Go on your way with brighter heart ! Be good ! and covet not his pelf ! Turn your eyes inward, and begin to finish your own Tower yourself! 2 j8 PAUL AND VIRGINIA. Paul anfc Virginia. I met them again this evening, For they haunt me where'er I go, As over the beaten path of Life I wander to and fro ! To-night they were straying, happy, Beneath the Thiergarten trees : Paul, youthful but sturdy and manly ; Virginia, a merry tease ! 'Twas clear from the roses she gazed on They had made it up for life, And the flaxen-haired Teuton Romeo Had chosen his little wife ! Ah ! Their faces bring back others I've watched in Life's morning hour : The procession of happy lovers, The maid with the simple flower. The youth, with his stainless brow lit up With boyhood's unsullied fire ; The dreaming maiden's downcast eyes, A stranger to Desire ! PAUL AND VIRGINIA. *9 I sigh as I see them wander Away in the summer land ; But I smile, as I watch them, from afar, Still clinging hand to hand ! For often I've seen with sadness In the noon, on Life's broad highway Paul in the strangest company And Virginia — led astray ! I mind me of little feet I knew That stopped on the lengthening track : A mist of the vanished years brings tears When I think of looking back ! Poor little Virginia ! Somewhere, perhaps, Beyond that sparkling star, She leans, with an infinite pity, For the shadows we mortals are ! Tis better so ! For I've sometimes seen Paul Alone, with no friend at hand, And Virginia's voice heard ringing At the head of the devil's band ! But my heart goes out to the trusting ones Love-pledged, walking here to-night ; And I try to feel, in my inmost soul, Some way it will come out right ! For there's nothing as sweet as the first true love, And, this truth is known to all ; But I learn it anew, as my kindly eyes Bless Virginia and ardent Paul. 2 o 8&N HAFIZ, THE MUEZZIN. JBen Daff3, tbe /I&ue33*n« Far lifted from the city's jar and fret Ben Hafiz watched upon the minaret ; And gazing where the Prophet's city stands, A benediction waved from wrinkled hands. His prayerful voice was raised — the hour was nigh— To Allah lifted his imploring eye. Below him, sparkled many a twinkling fire, Where pilgrims camped around the sacred spire. " Oh ! Where is God ? " The old muezzin cries, With eagle glance, he scans the vaulted skies. All silent trembled the thin realms of air — Ben Hafiz vainly sought an answer there ! Beneath his feet, stretched far the sapphire sea — " Lo ! In its depths — Divinity may be ! " The blue waves ripple on the lonely shore, No token reached him in their hollow roar ! BEN HAFIZ, THE MUEZZIN. 2I The camp fires leaped, their red glow mounting higher. He pondered : " There ! Perchance, is Allah nigher ! " Bright gleams lit up the sleeping host in vain — Not a response ! Ben Hafiz asked again. The mountains, hung above him, crested round, Caught his quick eye — " Is God, there, hidden found ? " But scarped rocks and peaks all silent lay — With no reply, Ben Hafiz turned away ! "Alas ! All silent ! " The muezzin cried. The hopes which warmed his heart, in sadness died ! " Earth, air and fire — the waters, I explore — «« For God, whose footsteps here return no more ! " When, like a lark, a sweet voice thrilled above ! An angel sang — » Ben Hafiz ! God is Love ! " 2 2 THE DEAD SINGERS. Gbe Beafc Singers. Fainter, still fainter, echoes far The world's refrain of deathless song — Their fingers mouldered now, who swept The lyre, with matchless touch, so long ! Gray distance veils that primal shore Which gave us Music, lost no more. We listen to the lovers' lute ; Yet — the eternal stars are mute ! The laurel swept from Homer's brows Lies 'neath the sands of Hermes' tomb ; On Omar Khayvan's hidden mound The roses breathe their faint perfume ! From far Cathay there steals, to-day, Across our world, so time-scarred grown, The fateful burden of the Past — That weird Confucian monotone ! Egyptian, Persian, bright-browed Greek, The Aryan, choir of storied past, With laureled Roman bards of old Have solved Life's mystery — at last ! THE DEAD SINGERS. 23 The lips are pallid all, which gave The Troubadour a lover's prize ; And Skald and Minnesinger fade, In mystic cycles, from our eyes ! By life's unending road, Death-led, The Singers sleep — a mute array ; While bard and beauty blend their dust, Their songs thrill in our hearts to-day ! In newer life, with Passion's breast Of fire, the later poet sings With strains caught up by spirit voice, The memory of forgotten things ! Brave men who strove — bright eyes thatshone- True hearts that loved, or sadly beat — Pass in a shadow dance, while dust Of Kings clings to the peasant's feet ! Thus — the great singers, chanting, go To Silence : — all mankind among ! Their ashes blown in viewless winds — But Death can never still the Song ! 2 a JW THE GUEST CHAMBER. Hn tbe <3uest Gbamber. Full many a tent's Arabian fold Has lifted to my weary foot, And, now the days are growing cold, The music of the lover's lute- Dies far away ! A pilgrim, tired With trudging in Life's caravan, No more by glowing hope inspired, I mark the road where it began ! For, winding down in boyhood's days The purple mountains stretched afar, A hand clasped mine in Love's blind maze, And o'er me swung a sparkling star ! I lingered where the shining light Of sweet Fatima's diamond eyes Lit up the gardens of my youth, And turned those days to Paradise ! The trumpet sound of manhood called To life each drop of bounding blood ; And, by no craven fears appalled, I joined Man's earnest brotherhood ! IN THE GUEST CHAMBER. 25 By lonely paths, in Life's bazaars, I struggled in the busy crowd ! To-day, content, I wear my scars ! I've chummed with humble and with proud ! Yet many a kindly hand was oped For me the hair-tent's grateful shade ; And, when in blinding storms I groped, My brothers cheered " Be not afraid ! " And round me wrapped the mantle oft Of comradeship to guard and guide ; And, when the skies were dark aloft, I've found staunch pilots at my side. The silver star-beams, once beloved Have frosted o'er my storm-tossed hair, But yet I gaze and still rejoice To greet the star still sparkling there ! High o'er me, once, that singing star Breathed songs of Hope — and then, of Love ! But now in Heaven it trembles far, The lamp of Faith, firm-poised above ! From caravansera to town I've lingered many a chamber in, And trustfully have laid my head Where'er my lot to rest has been ! Abdallah, in his palace halls, Once, but a striving friend of mine — Lists as the loud muezzin calls, To lowing voice of myriad kine. 2 6 IN THE GUEST CHAMBER. For him the harem fountains flow, For him, the priceless jewel shines, For him, the white sails southward blow, For him, slaves toil in mart and mine ! But, singing on my way, I go, Content with all my varied lot ! The last guest-chamber where we sleep Will see us equal — and, forgot ! RO THSCHILD'S HO USE IN FRA NKFOR T. 2 7 ^Before IRotbscbilD's bouse in ffrankfort. In treading Life's contracted round, My wandering footsteps turn again To Frankfort, loved in early youth — That pleasant city on the Main ! I pause, and rub astonished eyes Beneath my gray and bushy brows : The city fair seems strangely young ; Eut, here, stands Meyer Rothschild's house Vain quest of gold has made me old ! The power of gold has made it young ! For, newer palaces now throng The crumbling landmarks there among ! The Palmengarten's tropic sham Draws maid and lover, 'neath the stars ; And still the Ariadne gleams — Time's tooth no fleck its beauty mars ! The vast Cathedral yet enshrines The crumbling tombs of knight and dame ; And fainter grow the Latin lies Encircling each Archbishop's name. 2 g ROTHSCHILD'S HOUSE IN FRANKFORT. I mark the helm of Sieur Lameth; A noble once, of high degree ; Upon his breast the laureled sword Still heralds Glory's mockery ! So Nature, art and Romance old Speak yet ! The town is rich and proud ! But all must yield to Gold the palm; Tis Meyer Anselm draws the crowd ! Down in the little narrow street, The gate-barred alley of the Jew, Troop throngs of eager human dolts, To give to Wealth its homage due ! 'Tis true that, high in honor raised, The form of Goethe nobly stands ; There, Schiller's rapt face thrills me yet, The youth with lyre in nervous hands ! A bookworm, here and there, may halt To see the roof whence Luther went To face Rome's thunders, with a heart Of steel, his brows in anger bent ! The house of Goethe, trim and neat, Attracts the wanderer's passing eye ; But Rothschild was borne down the street, And, quick the traveler hurries by ! Oh, Frankfort ! faithful to the creed ! The cold hard creed of later days ! Tear down the homes of seer and sage — Pluck off the poet's withered bays ! ROTHSCHILD'S HOUSE IN FRANKFORT. The age of Iron now is past ; Lameth's vain sword is gnawed with rust ; The mighty soul to far realms fled Which animated Luther's dust ! The haughty dames who lived and loved Have found, in stone, eternal rest ; And violets spring unmarked to-day From pretty Gretchen's lowly breast ! Let gaping crowds in raptures loud Bend low before the banker's den ; Next door, a dealer sells old clothes — And Gold is King, to-day as then ! '■9 3° THE ARIEL OF THE PAST. Zhc mid of tbe past. A Memory Dream. Graceful and exquisite, hovering near, she waits, The one 1 love so well — Dear, dreaming Memory, in her slender hands She clasps her hollow shell ! Dainty-shaped Ariel ! Truest now of all The vanished friendly sprites, She saw the passing time of Love and Hope Yet, still her spell delights ! Lingering, yet faithful to the one she served, In youth's time of bright eyes, and hopes once dear, Within the shadow of the evening, faithfullest of all, Fondly she watches near ! What voices loved, whose notes have died away, Her magic shell calls up ! Still in her eyes I see the tender glance Of her who shared Life's cup ! THE ARIEL OF THE PAST. 3 x The cup of Love ! Drained in the hours of bliss, The one I called mine own — Dear sprite of Memory, you alone bring this Sweet shade back to her throne ! All of the unforgotten past whose pearls lie scattered Along Life's winding shore — You paint for me, with tender artist touches, The clays that come no more 1 Round me your dear enchantment ever flinging Through weary day and lonely night, Nepenthe's draught, in loving-kindness bringing, Sweet sprite, with brows of light Still linger with me, Ariel of the Past, On your rich lips one dainty finger pressed— And, pointing to the sunlight far beyond the river, Lead, lead me on to rest ! No more the jar of earthly things can fret As down the river to its mouth I glide — For you call up her my soul worships yet, And bring her back, dear Ariel, to my side ^2 BEFORE SCHILLER'S STA TUE. ^Before Scbtller's Statue. Here, in the lovely Thiergarten, Shaded by nodding trees, Stands Friedrich Schiller carved in stone, Near beautiful Louise. No passion fills the pulseless heart ! All sightless, gleam his eyes ! Yet Genius breaks that dreamless rest ! With noblest harmonies ! His lifted hand and sunlit brow Are potent now — as when, With patriot fire and manly song, He cheered his fellow-men ! For Schiller's proud and loyal soul Raised his land's courage high, When Goethe dangled at a court, — To catch a pigmy's eye. He saw Germania's flag trailed low ! The tears of Queen Louise, — And strongly smote on Freedom's lyre, The battle-call that frees ! BEFORE SCHILLER'S STA TUE. Warm blood, hot head, and loving soul, He points the German sword : To strike again for Vaterland, And stay the invading horde ! His deathless words ring down the years For, living thoughts are things, — Which shine, eternal, far above The diadems of kings ! Beloved by maid, — by gallant youth, — Free, headlong, brave, and bold ! Fame gilds the bays on that cold brow, With glints of heaven-sent gold ! 3 33 FREDERICK THE GREA T. 34 ff reDedcft tbe Great. Here sleeps below, in silence grim, Frederick the Great, on whom Fate poured A wealth hard-won, and sharply fought for — With the hungry Prussian sword ! The coldest Hohenzollern heart — A man of " philosophic parts," Who lived and died — shunned — feared — alone, A " dilettante of the arts ! " " Kingship divine " led him to fill A hundred thousand battle graves. He much improved the soldier's drill And — neatly uniformed his slaves ! Of keen, bright brain, it seems he had No heart — less sterling honesty Than Alexander, who " passed out" In drunken fit, at thirty-three ! The victor Greek bequeathed " The World Unto the Strongest," with no claim But wholesale butchery, to gild The " glory of his deathless name ! " And Csesar and Napoleon, too — FREDERICK THE GREAT. Devoid of hypocritic rant — Scourged all mankind, yet both disdained To use this " philosophic " cant ! Yet, " Suum Cuique " shines out to-day, Upon the Prussian soldier's brows ; But still, Silesia's stolen lands Its application hardly shows ! When Polish peasants shrieked and yelled Beneath the Prussian's armed heel, Did Frederick then the candid sage Or " royal robber " most reveal ? Ah ! Cain's hand, spattered with the blood Of brother, to the first grave sent, Proved murder — but, 'tis different When killing's done by regiment ! The moping hours — the wailing flute — His scorn for toiling burgher fool — Shows this philosopher, " old Fritz," Had never conned " The Golden Rule !" His heirs, to-day, would happier sit Upon a somewhat narrower throne, If Frederick's motto guided them — " Let every man enjoy his own ! " Is the one title to high fame — The art, by blood, to build the realm ; And count no head a noble one, Which does not wear the warrior's helm ? Ah ! Sickening sham of tyrant craft What stuff of King Stork or King Log 35 ,6 FREDERICK THE GREAT. Where is the land where labor groans ? The woman toiling with the dog ? Where half a million idle drones With useless sabres clank the streets ! The cringing burgher seeks the gutter When the bold " man at arms " he meets ! Tear off the flaunting falsehood here ! 'Tis only good men who are great ! The honest brow, alone, should shine Oak-wreathed, in a happy state ! Greater the heir of freedom's crown Who plows with prairies, peaceful dressed, And sees a happy wife, afar, With babe upon her loving breast ! Count me the men as great, who herald Science, knowledge — yet unborn ! I love the song the free winds breathe Through tasselled lances of the corn ! That wily churchman, Richelieu, Red-robed, throned in his wisdom gray, Cried " States without it can be saved ! " " So ! Take the needless sword away ! " The Germans great ! where Luther leads ! And Goethe, Humboldt, grand array ! With Heine, Schiller, Lessing, Kant ! All matchless in the world to-day ! These human pearls on sands of Time, Upon Germania's shores were poured ! FREDERICK THE GREAT. 37 Their deathless names shine out beyond The man of war who bears the sword ! The Great ! Where's Edison and Morse ? Who gave to Thought its swiftest wings ? Old Homer — Milton — Shakespeare — who Revealed imperishable things ? The Great and Good ! where's Lincoln's name ? All malice-proof — Immortal his ! — Old John Brown — gallows hallowed — with That negro babe's mute parting kiss ! You call him "great" who ruled in blood ! In battle's flame and frantic jar ? Who cleared a path with robber sword Among his neighbors near and far ! Far greater Russia's manly Czar Who held his millions from the field, And never lit the torch of war ! Whose stainless soul King Death revealed ! 38 PURITY. purity Upon the heights, now, side by side, We walk, with senses purified. No human passion whispers there, In sparkling depths of crystal air. Far down below us, earthly love Still strives the human heart to move ; But, one in soul, we stand apart From passion's storms, with tranquil heart ! From whence this power ? This chastened love ? Look, clear-eyed, up to God above ! With blameless thought, — for Thoughts are Things ! Where, round His brow, the rainbow clings ! The once frail love, now purified, Leaves us no darkening sin, to hide ! And, stronger love than man e'er sought, Burns in our Heaven-sent higher thought ! SHAKESPEARE. -^ Sbaftespeare. Above a cringing world he clings To Heaven's eternal walls — An eagle eye, a voice that sounds A strain which never falls ! It lingers — ringing far above — A herald from the sky — To dower the weaklings of the earth With thoughts that cannot die ! BURNS. JBurns. [Impromptu.] The gentlest heart, with kindest thought, Unto his memory turns — Love's sweetest raptures thrilling yet The tender lyre of Burns. ROBER T DE VERE UX. 41 •Robert 2>e\>ereui. IN the heart of Berlin town, Where the human hive swarms round, Passing an old graveyard through, I saw " Robert Uevereux." Underneath a huge black stone, Hidden from our mortal eyes, These two words, in faded gold, Tell of him, who 'neath it lies ! Nothing more ! The simple name ! But these solemn words are true ! You and I, my passing friend, Will be soon like Devereux ! There he sleeps ! No line to tell If another loved him well ! Strangers pass, like I and you, Heedless of poor Devereux ! Yet, as soundly sleeps he there, As if the loyely Taj in air, Rose above him, in the blue ! Naught complains poor Devereux ! 4 2 ROBER T DE VERE UX. Sleeps as softly 'neath the sod ! Just as near to man and God, As if the Invalides' dome threw Shadows over Devereux ! King and peasant, pale shades passed, Equal meet in Death at last ! Read this lesson ! If we knew What is known to Devereux ! Friendless ! No ! For God's love holds Him wrapped up in Mercy's folds ! Some one, once loved ! — Some one knew Vanished Robert Devereux ! THE SIVORD. 43 TLbe SworD. There, on an olden field, it lay — As it dropped from a nerveless hand : Where the harvest of death was long gathered, A rusting and blood-stained brand ! Around it the grass was waving fair, The fields with new riches stored. But, never a tender shoot sprang up, Under the blade of the sword ! Still, by the fortressed castle walls The shadows hang black as night ! There's never a fruit to tempt the hand ! There's never a blossom bright ! There are deserts — blood-hallowed — stretching far, Where Nature its wealth outpoured, But, the blackened rafter and hearthstone lone, Mark the path of the hungry sword ! In kingly courts of Vanity Fair, The sword, at a loiterer's side, Tells of noble rank — but it seems to me, Only murder glorified ! 44 THE sword. Accursed be the hand that forged The first heart-piercing blade ! May that curse be deepened by the wail Of the widows its work has made ! The sobbing child, — the home defiled, — Man's heritage of woe : — Still, over the earth, — the grim hell-birth Of slayers, go to and fro ! But, the falchion's gleams are Hell's own beams, Let him bear the blade who can ! There's a curse above, from the God of Love, On who slays his fellow-man ! Ah ! The world is old, and our hearts grown cold, Or some thrill of a spark divine, From the King of Kings, to these crowned things, Might thunder these words benign : " Thou shalt not kill ! " A heaven-born law By the warrior craft ignored, There's a curse on that glittering devil of steel ! The brother-devouring sword ! PART II. SENTIMENT. PART II. SENTIMENT. "%ox>e Ibauntcfc."* Your face is with me in the night Out on the sea, And all I dreamed of heaven bright — It brings to me, A star to guide, a hope to bless, A mystery of loveliness ! Your love has sealed our souls for aye, Dear one, afar, My heart, unswerving, turns each day To where you are, That other soul my being knows, And seeks within your breast repose ! Your voice, is stealing on me now, With passion's thrill. * Music by Sebastian Bach Schlesinger. — Published by J. H. Schroder. 47 4 8 "love haunted: Love's fadeless light upon your brow, You hold me, still, In bonds whose sway, I now confess, Love's magic charm of tenderness ! Some day TO A FRIENDLY PAGAN GOD. 49 Go a ffrfenolE jpa^an <3oo. Ho ! Somnus ! Great veiled god of sleep ! To me the poppy bring ! Throw down the dying torch of Day, its last spark lingering ! In deep Cimmerian darkness wreathe the locks around my brow ; I hear her footfalls echo ! My Love ! She cometh now ! Ye mystic three, who rule the shifting shapes of fleeting dreams, Quench every star and drive afar the moonlight's glancing beams ! Come ! Morpheus and Phobetor ! Phantasmus ! Hear my vow ! My soul is yours, magicians three ! Call her back to me now ! Nay ! Not your awful brother Death who claims mankind his prey ! His shrouded face I will not brook, his straggling locks of gray ! 4 His sable cloak floats not above my vanished darling's form ; Come ! Somnus ! At thy feet I kneel ! Quell this heart's racking storm ! For blessed Sleep, with iris dreams, alone can bring her near ! The one whom every bounding pulse-throb hails more fondly dear ! Her Dian form — her love-kissed lips — the eyes ot tender light ! Bring back the lost one ! Call her to my dark- ened soul, to-night ! One night of dreams ! Filled with rapt love, and fairy minstrelsy ! Nay ! Turn not ! Somnus ! Grant this loving cheat but once, to me ! Here ! Bring the poppy bowl ! I see her memory- painted charms ! Hail, Somnus ! For I clasp her now, within my loving arms ! Ah ! Linger with me, dreamy shades, soft ministers of Night ! Turn back thy dial, Time ! for she must vanish with the light ! Upon her heart in happy sleep still let me, rapt, incline ! She comes ! The Darling of my soul ! Her heart beats close to mine ! TO A FRIENDL Y PAGAN GOD. r j For tar the path, and long the cruel stretch of Life's strange way Her little feet have wandered, and I walk alone to-day ! Great Somnus ! At your shrine I kneel ! Oh ! Pagan god of might ! My soul is yours when to my heart my dearest comes at night ! r> UNDER THE ROSE 1 "dnSer Gbe TRose! The Story of a Picture. You fain would read her story, as she stands With downcast eyes, and clasps her slender hands, Pressed to the warm breast, where wild rapture glows ; That secret deep is hidden — 'neath the rose ! For Love has sealed her dainty lips from all ; She hears ! But, only answers to one call. You crave to know to whom her spirit goes Out in Love's silent pledge ? Ah ! ask the rose ! For one alone she waits with dreaming eyes ; A sigh. A smile ! Two arms in glad surprise Would clasp him to that throbbing heart ! Who knows That happy lover's name ? Only the rose ! For one now absent, in her heart of hearts She longs in Love's sweet pain ! Its thrill im- parts The only pain that fairest bosom knows. When will he come ? She only asks the rose ! UNDER THE ROSE ! r^ In clinging white, youth's light upon her brow, She stands, my heart's own darling, waiting now ; A dream of Love ! Her color comes and goes ! She guards my life — my soul — under the rose ! 54 ON REV1ENT TOUJOURS. ©n IRevient ftoujours. We watched the sunset fires burn out Upon the hills ; the meadow Slept quiet ; far below us there The river ran in shadow. The nodding branches kissed the tide, Where white sails faintly gleaming, Slow drifted by ; the mountains high, In silence stern lay dreaming. Each chiselled crag its dark shade threw, In quaint lines on the river. The song the laughing ripples sang That night, will haunt me ever. Her eyes met mine, and then dropped down Their sweet glance told the story ; Hope promised then a future bright, With more than sunset glory. Her little hand lay long in mine, Her voice in cadence tender, Thrilled all my soul with feeling grand, Nor tongue nor pen can render. ON RE VIE NT TO UJO URS. r c Long since that Summer night is fled ; The grass comes to the meadow, Sweet Spring leaves tremble on the trees, Sleeps on the stream the shadow. Fond nature gives, with artist hand, Each year some newer splendor, To make more rare and lovely still, The landscape's outlines tender. I bridge the intervening years, Call back the sunset glory ; But may not mend the broken threads Of life's unfinished story ! 56 THE LAST FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. £be Xast 3forQet*/fce*1Rots. These, for your breast, my darling one — The simple flowers that near you dwell. They bloomed beneath your summer suns, And — Autumn brings our sad farewell. Close clinging to your tender heart, Their mute caress may backward bring A joy we shared, and still impart That thrill of Love which came with Spring And, as the Winter days decline, Still whisper from my heart to thine ! Still in your throbbing bosom glows The love which brought your head to rest, With blushes brighter than the rose, Upon my true and faithful breast. There's not a smile has lost its light ! There's not a sigh you breathed in vain ! For, read their message, Love, aright, The Spring will bring its flowers again. And I — shall find in your dear eyes The love that in them, dreaming, lies ! Once more, my own, before we part, I clasp your slender hand in mine ! THE LAST FORGE T-ME- NO TS. r y Once more, I strain you to my heart, And kiss your eyes that softly shine ! In lonely days these little flowers May speak of joys that were our lot, Bring back the heaven of those hours When you were my " Forget-me-not." A deathless love our life shall bless Again, in all its tenderness ! Pressed to your breast these blossoms keep, My love of sweetest summer days ! And in the dreams of blessed sleep The heart which thrills, and fondly prays For you, shall watch ! For you shall wait ! And hover where your dear feet stray ! Still to your service consecrate Shall burn with brighter love, each day, For God has joined your soul to mine ; So, let them on your bosom shine ! s« TO DAMON, AN "OLD CADDT." Go Damon, an "©lo Gaoet." 1864-1894— E. O. F— 2d Artillery. It shines upon my hand, while far from home I'm lingering — The quaintly chosen motto, carved upon our old class ring — " Cor unum — viae diversae " was the chorus sung elate, When " sixty-four " had shed its chains, in joyous sixty-eight ! The pendulum of thirty years has swung us far apart, But yet the clock is running on, and ticks within my heart. Although my life-blood feebler throbs than when, in fighting clothes, We stood up in Fort Clinton, and punched our bitter foes ! I don't forget, dear Damon, how we "boned our math," at night, That Billy Coombs and I backed you in the big "Casey fight." TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET. 1 ' §g He held the watch, and I the sponge, while you with angry frown Stood up through all those weary rounds, and made your man " lie down ! " The happy days in dear old " D," — the corporal's stripes we won, The swims in the cool Hudson, alone, when day was done, Our " wrastle " with the Sanscrit " Var," those bareback rides of pain — I'd give a world of weary sighs to live those days again ! That "yearling camp," those dusty drills with Piper and with " Dad," The singing voice of Lancaster — it always drove me mad ! And "Lanky" Smith, the sturdy bear who ever banged us round — Dear " Forrest " Black, who slumbers there, in the old burying-ground ! The things we learned have vanished, and the men who taught them low Are lying, on the West Point hill, in the " Pro- fessors' Row." The lonely stars have glittered down on me for thirty years, And here your waited letter lies, and brings me sudden tears ! g Q TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET." For I have never learned, old boy, the Calculus of Heart, And in my bosom's throbbing there's no Philo- sophic art. I long have sunk the " Engineer," though the " castle " was my pride, I would give my faded laurels, now, if you were by my side ! The songs were sung in summer camp, " Lore- na's " southern wail — - When Treason's guns came booming North, upon the summer gale — " In the skies the bright stars glittered," " Float- ing down the Tennessee," In Pompey Olmstead's mellow voice — It all comes back to me ! I think I see the bayonet's flash, as when in one grand line We swept along that grassy plain, your shoulder next to mine, As Grant " reviewed the Corps," when Lee laid down the Southern sword, When in our " Alma Mater," loud the guns of Victory roared ! I know the words which falter on my lips will bring again Those shadowy faces smiling sweetly, Damon, on us then. TO DA MON, AN " OLD CA DET." fa But all our paths divided strange at " Benny Havens, Oh ! " And one remembered sunny head, has long been lying low ! I feel again the pain which wrung my soul as we both heard The Adjutant, whose voice rang out the long- expected word, '* First Class, Fall out ! " the last class line, the music, " Home Sweet Home" — Then forth we went, on different paths, the world's strange ways to roam ! There's not a land that man can tread beneath the sweeping sun Our wandering feet have not roamed o'er — our quest is never done ! Yet tossed afar by breakers wild, upon Life's angry sea, I bless the wave which swings you near, and brings you back to me ! Before me, as I scan your lines, the desert stretehes drear, Its thousand miles of horrors, the lurking red fiends near, The long three months we marched forgot, the mutiny, the days When Arizona was a hell, beneath the sun's fierce rays ! £ 2 TO DAMON, AN " OLD CADET." So hail ! with every heart-throb that friendship's name endears, Dear Damon, loved for all the drift of thirty sundered years ! There's sunshine glowing in my soul ! My heart is beating fast ! I brim the cup we quaffed once, to " The Mem- ory of the past ! " do swidanya:' 63 "S)o 5wioan£a." Under the wreaths of welcome — green once, but golden now — You stand, my heart's own darling, with fair uplifted brow ; The wind which stirs the forest moans its sum- mons to depart, So bend your dear eyes once on me, while clasped unto my heart. Here, on the portal where you waited, with love's kindled eye, Your faltering footstep lingers, and fears my last "Good-Bye." I kiss the trembling lips I love, in silence ! Speech is vain — For every throb of your true heart now bids me " Come Again ! " Nay ! Do not speak, Beloved ! Fate's decree can harm us not ! Our souls have mingled in the thrills which hallowed that dear spot. 64 " DO SWIDA NYA ." Our tryst among the Saxon hills, the dancing river there, And sprinkled far — forget-me-nots — upon the uplands fair. Again, Beloved, in my soul those sparkling love stars shine, We watched upon the swift blue Elbe — they — led us to the Rhine ! We wandered 'neath their mellow light, in sweet Volhynian shades, They twinkle in this autumn night, their splendor never fades ! We cannot lose the golden past ! I never care to seek The summer rose which blessed us then ! It blushes on your cheek ! The wooing winds which lulled to rest upon your breast of snow Are singing still within my heart, in murmurs sweet and low. The hours which passed with flying feet, and marked the happy round Of all the heaven which we shall know, shall be eternal found ; The deathless spark which flashed its light, the aureole of Love — Will linger round your fair, dear head until we meet above ! " DO SWIDANYA." 65 For proof against the tyrant's will, or fortune's rolling wheel, My kisses give again the love your bosom's sighs reveal, For we are one, eternal sealed ! This is no part- ing day ! I hold you prisoned in my heart, so both will go away ! And as my heart is chained to yours, though I stray to the west, We cannot part, Beloved, — for it beats within your breast ! Lift up your eyes, and let your arms close round me, sweetest one, As in that hour you pledged your love, before the dying sun ! It is that sun which lights me — though my soul does not depart — The sun of Love which burns upon the altars of my heart ! "You are my own forever," this I whisper ere I go! But wait to hear your murmur back, «« I always loved you so ! " We reaped the golden harvest, waiting all these weary years ! Our garnered grain is safe ! Our love is proof against all fears ! 5 66 " DO SIVIDA NYA ." Then, " Do swidanya ! " Smiling eyes take up the dear refrain, And flash their tender signals back — "Good- Bye, but, — Come Again ! " HIS LETTERS. 67 f)te Xetters. She sat beside the dying fire, A loving woman fair, And watched the letters from her hand Crisp into ashes there ! Ah ! Every light flame flashing out From those fond words of love, Brought tears into her gentle eyes As she leaned there above ! T'was in the silence of the night ! The city round her dreamed — His whispered words her pulses thrilled, The grave of Love it seemed ! Those tender words, when hastening far He sued her heart to win — His last fond pledge of life-long truth She kissed, yet — threw it in ! With shining eyes her bosom's sighs Breathed a fond requiem there, For all those vanished hours of bliss, And, then — she knelt in prayer ! 68 HIS LETTERS. There, in that lonely room, his face Still lingered in her heart, And distance could not keep that hour Their loved-sealed souled souls apart ! She breathed a prayer for him that night Whose faithful heart afar Was haunted by her pictured face Beneath the lover's star ! He kissed that face of wondrous grace As, at his darling's feet, Life's ashes lay ! She turned away In dreams again to meet ! Her sweet brown eyes brought back the hour When first, upon his breast, Her graceful head came fluttering down In Love's eternal rest ! For, heart to heart, Love's spirit held Their souls that lonely night. "God Bless You, Darling ! " echoed low And both their hearts were light ! IN THE WOODS. 69 1fn tbe TKHooOs. Here, once, with me, my darling strayed Down these dim forest aisles ; I list to-day her foot-tall light ; Again, love-thrilled, she smiles. 'Tis true, I am alone, yet from The viewless world wherein she hides Her gracious spirit lingers with me — A blessing which abides ! Dear unforgotten face beloved, With softly shining eyes, The rustling leaves are murmuring low Of our lost Paradise ! Ah ! God ! In yon far sunset skies I see a golden glow, Which hides beyond the world's confines That love of long ago ! 'Tis deathless ! For her spirit shines Down from the trembling stars, And, heart to heart, the pulse of love Beats past their mortal bars ! 7 o IN THE WOODS. So, with my steadfast heart still true, My longing soul here waits ! My footsteps threading these dear paths Her memory consecrates ! AFTER MANY YEARS. 7* Bfter dftatiE feat's. Tis fourteen years, yet all comes back ! I think I see to-day The lazy porpoises again in blue San Pedro Bay ! The jutting crags hung o'er the ocean's rim of misty blue ; And on the golden hills I sat, and watched that scene with you ! Deep-freighted ships that slowly left the smiling Golden Land — The flitting fisher-boats which skimmed along the silver strand — The valley smiled below us green, the bright skies domed above — And there, my friend, we talked of life — of all our dreams, — of Love. The fresh salt breeze sang round us there, our thoughts far onward ran, To where the sparkling ocean hides the islands of Japan ! 7 2 AFTER MANY YEARS, And here, in Russian forests lone, my soul strays back to-day — To meet you, friend, still heart to heart, by fair San Pedro Bay ! What matters it, if Fortune poured for you its shining store ? There have been kisses in our cup ! We dream those dreams no more. I've had my share of all that comes ere silver streaks the brow, And yet, with all that Life has brought, the old days haunt me now ! I'm lingering over hopes that filled each ardent youthful brain ; I hunger for your clasping hands ! Those days come back again ! And fourteen years have flitted by ! Still smiles the azure sea, Where Memory builds its fairy bridge to bring you back to me ! That bosom stirred with passion's touch ! The promise of your eyes ! And, softer than the summer wind, your mur- muring replies ! The dashing waves unmastered, fling their white- ness on the sea, And, on their breeze, your old-time thrall is cast again on me ! AFTER MANY YEARS. 73 All hail beyond your mountains far ! The dim Sierras there Still raise their silvered heads aloft, in depths of bluest air ! Their murmuring pines, the stars that shine, are calling me to-day Back where we kissed and parted, once, by lone San Pedro Bay ! 74 WOMAN. TICloman. All that's best and sweetest lies Hidden deep in woman's eyes ! All that's truest, gleaned apart Lingers in the woman heart ! Every blessing from great Jove Thrills within her pulse of Love ! Throughout Life, for good or ill Woman, woman, rules us still ! Double happiness she gives When her better nature lives ! Conqueror '. There's but one rest ! Pillowed on your loving breast ! FROM HER GLASS. 75 ffrom fbcv ©lass. Bring me the cup she kissed ! Fill of the very same Rich-hearted grape, and, let me breathe Deep, — in my heart, — her name ! Now ! while the bubble softly breaks On the dainty crystal rim ! While yet her voice my spirit wakes, While still my eyes are dim ! Up every glass ! Her health ! Queen of this hour of mirth ! Hail to the one I love ! — The sweetest girl on earth ! Round her Love's mantle clinging ! Flowers at my darling's feet ! — Fresh joys each bright hour bringing ! Hail, — and God bless you, Sweet ! 76 TO LA GRANDE DUCHESSE1 Go Ua (Sranoe Bucbesse! I drink the loving and the loved ! A Queen ! No foreign ruler ! Mine ! — I serve the one whose rosebud lips Are richer than this wine ! Unto her sparkling eyes I drink ! Each thread of silken golden hair ! And to the sea-shell's glowing tint, Which dyes her cheek so fair ! I hide her name within my heart ! Would that my song might grow divine ! The grape's rich heart, when pressed for her, Is thrilling now, with blood of mine ! The promise of her love-lit eyes ! Her passion-haunted breast of snows ! The witching glance which tells to me Her secret, whispered to the rose ! THE LADY OF NIMOVITCH. j» Gbe Xaos of Wtmovftcb. She moves among her garden walks, my eyes her footsteps note And dreams beside the silent lake, of other days remote. She draws my heart in golden chains, a dainty, sweetest witch. " Forget-me-nots," her bosom bears, to-day, at Nimovitch. My pulses bound to greet her step, with joy my heart is stirred, For happy Love is thrilling now in each endear- ing word. There's all that makes this lovely earth, with Love's sweet treasures rich To bless the day she came, in grace, to rule at Nimovitch ! The fleeting years her form endures, new graces linger near The loving one whom every day I hold more fondly dear. yg THE LADY' OF NI MOV ITCH. There are no words to paint a love, which mocks at simple speech, For heart and soul, lie at your feet, Beloved — at Nimovitch ! THE PARTING. *g Bt parting, The sad hour brings at last, the time of trial, For, it is time to part ! And grim browed Fate brooks no denial, These words are from my heart ! Do you remember, Love of mine, you came first To me, in time of snows, — And now, while my heart throbs in rapture, You are my winter rose ! You come and go, but your dear face will linger Within my heart's locked cell, Your name is carved there by Love's finger, You cannot read " Farewell ! " No ! Darling ! For the lonely room you leave me Will whisper still of you ! •'God bless you, my own Darling ! " does not grieve me, From your dear voice so true. For you are mine, — in dreams I hold you ever, Locked up within my heart ! 8o THE PARTING. And, there's no doom our joined lives can sever, Nor tear our souls apart ! I linger in delicious pain, in wonder, To see your face anew, — As when I first your magic spell came under And, woke, to love of you ! I thought it was an angel, softly stealing On me, with tender eyes, But, dearest one, my soul beguiling You made life Paradise ! For every heart-throb, every pledge so tender, My soul waits at your feet ! And all my life is yours, — to always render Your happiness complete ! So ! On your breast, your dear eyes sweetly shining, I seal the love you know, And, Hope, with rosy finger, all repining Forbids ! Love ! as you go. — TO A PRIMA-DONNA. % x Go a iprima*2)onna. JUST lean back ! Shut your eyes one moment ! Let your warm heart throb on, and beat ; As if I were the first man, Diva ! — You, the first woman ! Sweet ! Oh ! what a royal empire of old If we knew all, — and lived then ! Humanity crowned, you, genius starred — To begin all, — once again ! Drift out of your world a moment ! Down, down Life's tide with me ! Think of a man who is honest and true ! A woman noble and free ! Look out from your soul's bright windows, And see things as they are ! And never gaze back on that dizzy track You climbed, — to be a star ! I'll not speak of myself ; what am I ? A flash in the evening dark ! — A bubble tossed on the waves of Life, A glint of a flying spark ! 6 g 2 TO A FRIMA-DONNA. But you, Madonna, a star that shines, — A queen of your hard-won art ; And, over your head, the mystic crown Of Genius ! you walk apart ! Join hands, my comrade, across the gulf Of the warring natures we hold, — And drop out of all the base fetich, The woman-chase of old ! Still on your way go singing clear, Your eye on the zenith high, — Still, in your breast, the warm woman heart, Beating in harmony ! Brave as the boldest ! True to yourself ! And, with every high-souled note, Strike on the ringing Harp of Fame, To the future, dim, remote ! Live for yourself! Drink of Life's cup ! Kiss the bubble on the brim ! — And keep but a single throb for me, — While we both are in the swim ! Drop out the false ! For, beneath the garb Of a world of conventional lies, The great inviolate human heart Rules, hidden from mortal eyes. Be bold ! be brave ! be free ! Madonna ! — Be a woman, and, yet, be strong ! With a woman's charms, and a loving heart Still sing as you drift along ! TO A PRIMA-DONNA. g. Fight the battle of Life as you find it ! Your woman's weapons at hand ; — Be queen of yourself! — your life will be One anthem of music grand ! 8 4 UNDER THE RED LIGHT. TflnDer tbe IRefc %iQbU The weary hours creep on ! Without, A wild storm crashes on the pane. I sit alone and dream, my own, Of hours that may not come again ! My faithful heart, "So Happy ! " wanders Out into the wild black night, To hover near you, where you dream Afar, below the one red light ! No matter where that taper gleams, Its softened radiance only shows, — The pearl of all the world to me, Bright-hearted sister of the rose ! May God be with you, every hour, Though distance veils you from my sight, My heart is throbbing, in a prayer, For you, beneath that rosy light ! I know how tenderly its glance Upon your sleeping face now gleams. There, may the gods and fairies aid, I wander with you in your dreams ; 85 UNDER THE RED LIGHT. Each heart-throb echoes, every breath, My soul goes back, in love, to-night, — And, lingers, rapt, where softly sleeps My Dearest, under that red light ! True woman heart ! Its rise and fall Beneath your bosom's moulded snows, But marks the current of my love Which round you ever ebbs and flows. For, Love is all in all, and proof 'Gainst Distance, Sorrow. There's no might Of King, no Fates can tear my soul, From your rose-aureole of light ! Ah ! Whisper ! Angels bright and fair, The love which watches, longs and waits, To my own darling, dreaming there, Of cloudless days, of kindest fates. Those parted lips, in murmurs fond, Their greetings faltered, on this night, When, far away, you thought of me, And blessed me 'neath that soft red light ! 36 TO THE "NAMELESS," WITH A BOOK. Go tbe " IRameless," witb a JBooft. For you — whose dear face, though afar, Still, in my heart's locked casket shines, Beneath our own beloved star ; You smile — and — read between the lines ! The kindling thoughts your love gave birth, Are here, in feeble words, expressed, Forget them, Darling ! Only share The memories thrilling in my breast ! Your love-lit eyes, the hand that waved A parting to my burdened soul ; Our commune in those forest aisles, The dreamy peace which round us stole ! The singing voice which waked, at last A heart, that long had vainly wept, That evening, by the world forgot, While, far below, the river slept ! Again, your face in tenderest love Upon me, unforgotten, beams ! Your light foot breaks, in ecstasy, The mocking rapture of my dreams ! TO THE "NAMELESS," WITH A BOOK. If there be secret, here entwined, The one inwoven thread of gold ; Under the rose, upon your breast, Unto your heart, its message fold ! So happy ! There, it lightly lies Soft pillowed in your snowy breast Where my song falters ; close your eyes, 'Till memory tells you all the rest ! Ah ! Near or far ! I hold you fast, Deep prisoned in a faithful heart. Beneath your own red light, pray read, " Beloved, worshipped," — as thou art ! 87 88 OPEN SESAME. ©pen Sesame. What was it broke the spell, dearest ? You ask of my heart, to-day. What from the tomb of the sleeping years, Rolled the gray stone away ? Was it the brooding promise Hid in your tender eyes, — When, down the leafy path, you led The way to Paradise ? Was it the smile on lips that clung, So love-thrilled to my own ? Was it that one word whispered, "Come," That rolled away the stone ? Love's flame leaping through bounding pulses, When your dear hand met mine ! Ah ! who shall tell what, from the rock, Flashed out the spark divine ! Was it the clasping arms which drew You, home, to a loving breast ? Was it the glance that met mine, When the Sun-god sank to rest ? OPEN SESAME. No ! For the Conqueror, in her heart, Knows a sweeter secret, a better Charm that broke the seals of years, Hid in that shy, sweet letter ! Take it and read it. Open Sesame ! Only her true heart knows — Where it lay hidden,— that magic word, Only herself, — and the rose ! Only the rose which nestles there, Close to my darling's breast, Knows of the charm the Conqueror wrought, A watch-word, — the tenderest ! 8o qQ TO A WA YWA RD GODDESS. Ho a Wa^waro (Soooess. Ah ! Let some other foot linger, — turn off, And take the branching path ! Let some cold stranger's eye harden, — In selfish wrath ! Think of the love which round you clings, And, all endures. Let other lips speak all the bitterest things, Darling, — not yours ! Yes ! Let the callous worldling heart In pride and anger beat : But, think of all, the love of years has Laid at your feet ! The hours when heart beat close to heart, — One kindly thought insures ! Let others' scorn drift souls apart, — Dearest ! Not yours ! So ! In your quick estrangement, The hour of wounded pride : Let Love's still gentle hand, the tangling meshes, Quick draw aside ! -CO A W A YWARD GODDESS. Look in my faithful heart, which beats for you ! Where love allures! You back to see one face, still throned,— Darling ! Tis yours ! q 2 HER A ME RICA N MAJES TV'S VISIT. loci American flfcajestE's lihsit. Here I am sitting alone to-night, — Her picture is facing me now ; There's a thrill in her shining eyes, I can almost bring back her bow Of mocking entreaty, " Her American Majesty, Just as she curtsied then, At that very door, and faltered, ; May I visit your favorite den ? " There, on that crimson velvet chair, — " Her Majesty " found a throne. Queen of all hearts, she did not forget To carry by storm, my own ! A vision of laughing life and love, Set in the sombre scene Of my daily life, in Penworld, — Where so many dark hours have been ! Over the curious litter, Which we men of the " Shadowland M love, — Her dainty fingers wandered, While searching for treasure trove. HER AMERICAN MAJESTY'S VISIT. 93 In every nook and corner, She fathomed my strange retreat, Affecting the utmost unconcern, While, my heart, lay under her feet ! Ah ! But that wise little woman " Her American Majesty," knows I worship her very shadow ! Yet, that secret is " Under the Rose !" How these unforgotten moments Too brief flitted happily by ! And she paused near the threshold, and, fixed me, With the glance of a love-lit eye ! " I'm going ! " she whispered ! The rest By mortal was never heard : For, clasped in my arms, she stood there, And never uttered a word ! I found a few violets, — there, — on my desk, A holly sprig, — I know to-day, — Only this, that her visit has turned my head, — And, — she carried my heart away ! Yes ! That's her picture ! The very one ! " Her American Majesty,"— there ! «« How did I get it ? " It was an exchange, — And, — Cupid would call it fair ! " My heart is with you ! " she pencilled, — " I left it in your old den S " And, — I wait "Her American Majesty" To come back, and — get it again ! 94 BEFORE THE KAISER." JBeforc tbe •Raiser. Before the Kaiser, Elsa stands With softly dreaming eyes ; High soars her prisoned angel voice, While wildest plaudits rise ! She shares the laurels drifted down On Hohenzollern's brows — His gift by birth, by genius hers, Fair daughter of the snows ! Before them all, Columbia's child \ Queen by divinest right, With crown of beauty's native dower, Hailed Empress of the night ! 'Twas graceful that the monarch owned The sway her art imparts, He lord of the Germanic sword— But she, a " queen of Hearts." When battle's smoke has drifted far, The soldier lonely sleeps, Her name will shine in Art's bright page Which green her memory keeps ! " BEFORE THE KAISER." 95 Fair country-woman ! Nature blessed ! As her song dies away, Here in our bosom's shaken thrones The woman-heart holds sway ! Sing on ! Bright star ! shine out for all ! With Art's enkindled light ! Those graceful laurels truly won, Dear Empress of the night ! 96 WAITING. Maitinfi ! Beside the fire My lady stands, Her dainty eyes in thought downcast — The jewels on her blue-veined hands Flash memories of a storied past. The room is stilled, soft shadows steal From purpling hills down to the sea — Hard by the mantel's garnered wealth My Lady keeps her tryst with me ! Around her, spoils of all the earth And pictured faces, glowing, bring All forms of beauty to her there, Sweet Hebe of Life's rosy spring ! Upon the stair, I linger rapt — The living picture works its spell ! Her bright young brows, the Dian form, The tender eyes, I love so well ! Her beauty makes the room a shrine ! Dear priestess of the fading light ! But, mark — she bends her eyes on me ! Love ! Do I read their message right ? WAITING. gy The world may run its course in vain— I linger ! Never more to part ! But kiss those carven lips again As Hebe's welcome thrills my heart ' 7 9 8 A DREAM. B Dream, Yes, 'tis the room, and I mark the spot Where her little arched feet rested. There in the shadowed corner lay Her dear head — golden-crested. — The priests all lie ! These days gone by Have witchcraft's magic power, And my wild heart's beat, and my wandering feet Will bring her back this hour ! She has left me long ! She will come again With her sapphire eyes of blue ; And whisper, with white arms 'round my neck, " I love you ! Only you ! " There are snapping cords in my heart of hearts, — I know her step full well ; She swore she would come to me once again ! But, this waiting hour is hell ! Hark, soft at the drifted leaf's light fall — Her foot is on the stair ! She comes once more ! That bright-eyed girl ! She is surely standing there ! A DREAM. And, I know the bloom upon her cheek The gold threads of her hair, Her smiling lips, her graceful form, Her light step on the stair. Cold ! And the room is dreary ! No stir in the silent hall, And yet I know that she stood there ! I wonder if, after all, There is a world beyond the tide, Where she will wait for me ; Where heart to heart we will never part, But will dream in ecstasy ? 99 IOO YO ME RECUERDO: " Uo me IRecuevfco." (From the Spanish.) Yon star which far above me gleams, But speaks, my own, of thee ! The night winds whispering soft and low In murmured melody ; The thrill which my fond bosom owns — Beloved as thou art — , Is life-blood pulsing true to thee Within my faithful heart. Come to the arms which wait for thee ! May thy dear head soon rest, In dreamless slumber, still beloved, Upon this lonely breast ! The hour we loved, that star we v/atched, The breezes sighing low, Bring back our love, eternal sworn, The bliss we only know. TO A LADY'S PICTURE. IOI Go a XaoE's picture. Beside the smiling group of three Who reign upon my chamber wall, One friendly face beams down on me, One, treasured, kept by me from all, I've idly scattered in pleasure's race — Alone, I've kept your face ! In years gone by I've sadly learned How thin the gilding sometime grows, Seen fading oft, quick friendship's glow, And marked a canker on the rose To which I've given the proudest place !- Still I will keep your face. Bright stars of beauty rise and pass And Venus burns not every night, And cracked is often Fancy's glass. But one star shines unchanging bright. The Pole star holds the world in place, And I will keep your face. A steady star lift up to shine And show the way o'er land and sea ; And when your glance is bent on mine I think and feel I almost see IQ2 TO A LADY'S PICTURE. My own dear love these lonely days, And so I keep your face. Bright links of friendship forged by you Bind three in firm uniting chain ; And every glance seems to renew Our hopes of meeting once again Around your fireside, happy place. I fondly keep your face. For days glide by, dear friend, to show You true and rich as tested gold. In years to come, as long ago, My heart's best shrine shall ever hold. Next to its queen an altar high Where no unworthy rival by, I'll worship one dear face. THA T DARLING GIRL, IO -i Gbat Barling (5irl. ACROSS the world's commotion, — Its maddening whirl, A waif upon Life's ocean, I see that darling girl ! Her Dian form, her wistful eyes, — With looks of melting love, Which mirrored, in this world below, The sparkling heavens above. Chill clouded years have burdened eyes Which long have vainly wept. The sweet lost love, I dreamed of, — In the years my spirit slept. — And, yet, — across that weary waste, — And pangs which rend my heart, That girl, within my bosom's core, Has her own throne apart ! For, still above the skies of Fate, Though mist and mirk may whirl, I cherish in my loyal soul, That loved and darling girl ! 1 04 THA T DA RLING GIRL . She may be naught to all besides, But, all in all me : — Across the wasted years I mourn, That girl is all I see ! GOOD NIGHT, 10 $ <5oofc IFUgbt. Slow fades along the level sea The shimmer of the failing light, Dark shadows gather — warning sails Sink in the wave, far specks of white. Upon the mountain, lingers yet In glowing tints, the sunset rare, The forest fringing yon dark crag Is whispering, in wild music, there. Soft silence wraps the sleeping world, A brooding silence strangely sweet. Along the shore, the breakers roar, But die in wavelets at my feet. One star peeps out, a herald star, — Till all the heavens in brightness glow. Far light-houses, for weary souls, — Their twinkling flashes come and go. These silvered pages of Heaven's court Precede the peerless queen of night, Who moulds yon distant purpled hills In lines of living argent light. 6 GOOD NIGHT. Ah ! Brighter than the crescent moon, And lovelier than the throbbing sea, — A vision floats before my eyes, And brings her face once more to me ! I fain would know, if at this hour, She strays her garden haunts among, And dreams of hours we've blessed like this, The words we faltered, songs we sung, Her wistful brown eyes glancing far Down future happy years to be, Grow tenderer, still, — Beloved Eyes, — Their lone watch keeping still — for me ! A T SEA . 107 2lt Sea. I watched the gray and lonely waste Of ocean, drift unheeded by ; The distant glowing sunset flamed ; I gazed — -but with a lover's eye ! Sad was the burden of the dirge — The mocking distich of the sea ; — As angry surges sweep me on They sang, " we hide her, far from thee ! " io8 A FTER MA NY DA YS I '■ "Bfter /IftanE Da^e!" At Scltandau — hi Boficmia. We climbed the purpled mountains, your slender hand in mine, And saw beyond the Elbe blue the golden sun decline ; Behind grim-crested Konigstein, he sought the western skies, And Love walked with us, darling, hid in your dreaming eyes ! It was in far Bohemia, our erring feet had strayed ; The cares of Life had fallen away, and you were not afraid To face the gathering clouds of night, when that sun sank to rest ; For Love was holding royal court within your happy breast ! Away with fears, away with tears ! Nor time nor tide can blight The love that kindled in our hearts, upon that happy night. " A FTER MA NY DAYS ! » l q q A bird was singing to his mate, hid in the blos- somed tree ; My heart awoke, beloved, as you turned your eyes to me ! Oh ! Speechless joy ! the world forgot, your secret then confessed, With laughing eyes and low replies, your head upon my breast ! The winding Elbe below us shone ! All nature seemed to smile, When Life's book was unrolled, for lo ! you loved me all the while ! By strangest paths, in parted years, stern fate had led our feet Around the world, a weary road, in love at last to meet. But on this fairy night I knew your faithful heart was mine, And clasped unto my throbbing heart, the Queen of Konigstein ! For so, in frolic sport, you chose a title for that hour When, hearts aflame, we lingered till the night began to lower ; Then, hand in hand, we wandered back — for parting there was not — We met in dear Bohemia, where sorrow is forgot ! no AD ASTRA NORDIC A. BD Bstra WorDica. A star — a star that shines Upon the sea at rest ; A star that gleams in fire Upon her snowy breast ! A star which decks the brave, In battle's dangers won ; A star that loves to linger Near to the dying sun ! A flow'ret star that breathes Its incense in the wood ! The morning star which sang The coming of the Good ! These stars be dear, but loved The most the star that sings : — . The evening star — the lover's star Close to my bosom clings ! Shine on, dear star ! Still sing A world to sweetest rest ! A note of joy ! a song of Spring ! Then, linger on my breast ! UNDER HER SPELL. Ill Tfln&er bet Spell. In the Berlin Museum. The head of Erynys of Pergamus. Stay ! Warder ! Hold off your hand ! Wait there — wait at the door ! And leave me here, in the shadows — I must see her face once more ! All that is left of the sculptor's dream. Only a woman's head. Erynys ! There ! with the dreaming face ! The queen of the deathless dead ! I knew her ! I know her ! My soul is her slave P'or, ages — long ages ago I have bent, in her maddening worship, Where the palm-trees nod and glow. You smile ! I rave ! 'Tis the goddess Of men's hearts, — the witch of their lives ! Still, on those proud imperial lips, For speech, her weird nature strives ! In Pergamus, — by the Euxine, — She waked, — with her marble heart. 112 UNDER HER SPELL. That cruel crescent-browed goddess, — And, Fate holds us still apart ! You smile ! Ah ! I know her too well ! She has cursed my life for long years ; And the conquering glance of those stony eyes Has swept my dark soul with tears ! Cold and cruel, false as Faustine, Or Burgundy's Marguerite, She poisons the lover's hot kisses, — This demon of glances sweet ! The Conqueror ! Only a face ! Yet, I writhe again — for the dart Of an old, lost love has riven again The depths of a sorrowing heart ! You laugh ! A mere sculptor's fancy ! And — the earthquake shock threw down The marble fanes and palaces, Of the grand old Grecian town ! Only her head ! She stands in the gloom That woman, without a heart I And I worship you, demon of stone, — Fair mocking devil thou art ! But, how came you here, in stone, — Ah ! Soulless beauty, I know. For, you live in the world to curse me With the spell of long ago ! UNDER HER SPELL. \ Ah ! Now I remember ! Tis she ! Eryny's frail child — of her own, — You angel-faced devil I met in the flesh, With a missing heart of stone .' Here ! Warder ! This gold is yours For the shadows have veiled her cold eyes ! The hell of Love's mockery vanishes now, — My curse on her memory lies ! Take, take me away ! Some kind word Of the Fates may release me ! So ! I bend and avoid her unpitying glance, And, — shuddering, onward go ! 8 j j m OFF CHA RLES TON. ©ft Cbarleston. LONG drags the watch and still the night, Slow rocking on the tide, The oak-ribbed battle-ships moored near, But faintly are descried. This happy hour, a single ray Of joy the vigil cheers, Hark ! Stealing o'er the tropic waves The songs of other years ! Far from the leaguered hostile port, Again I seem to roam. My longing heart still fondly turns Back to my northern home. In vain, I strive to mark my watch, To dry the misty tears, While float across the heaving waves These songs of other years ! Bright thoughts of unforgotten days Are wakened, — happier hours I've known return, while miseries Forget these blighting powers OFF CHA RLESTON. llt < Blest be this chance — the happy chance That this lone hour endears : When evening breezes murmur low The songs of olden years ! Tl6 IL BALEN. II JSalen. Faintly through the evening stealing, Bringing thoughts of you, appealing To the tenderest memories, locked within an ever- faithful breast, Ah ! How magical their chiming, With my heart-throbs sweetly rhyming, Sounds that thrilled my soul ecstatic, when the keys your fingers pressed. Oft I've caught their soft intoning — When the ocean billows moaning, Told of weary leagues, my darling, That our loving hearts divide : Fancy, taking up the measure, Of each song I e'er shall treasure, Melodies that held me spell-bound in those old days at your side. GOOD-BYE. T[7 <5ooD*JS^e. " Good-Bye ! " I vainly from my heart Your pictured image would efface ! For, on my bosom's highest throne, My Darling holds the royal place. Good-Bye ! I cannot falter now, For, though by doubt and sadness torn, We never yet have parted, cold, But, blissful meeting came with morn ! Like stars in skies, your shining eyes, — Have beamed on me for many a year, Heart close to heart. Beloved, still I feel your tender presence near. Be mine yet, though the gathering storm, In angry clouds may darkly lower, I clasp you in my loving arms, To shield you, — Dearest, — evermore ! Come ! For the star we love, on high, His sparkling nightly signal swings, Each blissful moment gliding by, When Love, to me, your dear face brings. Xl g GOOD-BYE. Here, on this breast, your rest shall be, Your lips their promise shall renew : Sweet listening roses ! Hear my vow ! Good-Bye ! My own ! I love but you ! HER SOLDIER. II 9 ■fcer SolMer, She loved him more than ever maid Who, clasping lover to her breast, Breathed sigh for sigh, — with love-lit eye, With faltered vows — the tenderest ! She watches where he sleeps to-day, Under the old flag's heaven-dyed fold, The blue of Heaven o'er him there, Lit with the dying sunset's gold ! Bright, brave, and sunned in Fortune's smile, He held his breast to battle's storm, And, in her brooding heart, the while, Dwells but that one beloved form ! His manly grace, his vanished face, — Haunt her lone hours, — his voice still rings Upon her listening ear, these dreams, Are imperishable things ! Ah ! Not in faded, riper years, He sought the far and misty shore. She lingers, while each heart-beat brings Her darling to her side, once more ! I2Q HER SOLDIER. The sheathed sword, the knightly spurs Tell of his earthly battles won. — With tenderest heart, she walks apart, — Still dreaming of that gallant son ! TO HELEN R * * * 12 \ Go Ibclen TR * * * {Aged sixteen.) Upon the stair, you said " Good-Night," With smiling lips, you turned to me A girlish face of tender grace, — A nymph to-day, — a queen to be ! Ah me ! I mourn the vanished years, The charm of youth that quickly parts. But I am past the danger line, — Dear little budding Queen of Hearts ! The laughing light which fills your eyes Will kindle flames in fresher breasts ! Still, with a loving benison, My hand, upon your fair head, rests ! The future stretches bright and fair, Beneath your lightly falling feet : Love's signal flutters at Life's prow, And, — the kissed cup is passing sweet ! But you are mine, dear pretty lass ! The coming Prince must still forbear, To rob me of your charming face, Your graceful form upon my stair, — TO HELEN R * * * For dreams and visions hold you near. Is it your blushing face I see ? A dream of First Love ! On the stair, You kiss your finger-tips — to me ? Dear little one ! I wake ! I've had My share of hours that quickly fled, And I forget ! Your shadowy kiss Is but the kiss which wakes the dead ! Time's roses still their fragrance hold ! Those golden moments quickly ran. Ah ! well-a-day ! My race is run ! That kiss is for — the coming man ! AS SHIPS THAT PASS. 123 Bs Sbipa Gbat pass. Your soul its fluttering signals showed, My Darling ! In those dreaming eyes, Whose fringing lashes could not hide The depths of Love's sweet Paradise. Far from the world you came to me, A sea-born vision ! Memory's glass Will bring you back, — though swept away, — Like ships that pass — like ships that pass ! I may not read the blushes sweet, Which mantled on your glowing cheek. I dare not linger at your side, 'Twere vain to hope ! 'Twere mad to speak ! Gray distance hides you now afar, My griefs a love-racked soul harass ! — Good-Bye ! Hope's ensign flutters down, Like ships that pass ! Like ships that pass ! Perhaps some favoring gale of Life, On the uncertain heaving sea Of Fate, may blow from happier shores, — And waft you, Dearest, back to me. 1 2 4 A S SHIPS THA T PA SS. Your head at rest, upon my breast, Your eyes, twin guiding stars, — alas ! Tis vain to dream ! Their light is lost ! Like ships that pass ! Like ships that pass ! ALOKK 125 Blone. That star swings single now on high Which gleams upon the lone tree nigh, Alone I trust you whispering pine, This message from my heart to thine ! Beloved One ! My soul's one star ! Veiled from mine eyes — where'er you are, Alone ! I breathe your name, in love, Unto yon star-lamp, there above ! Blest be that spot, lost darling mine, Where trembling rays upon you shine. Alone ! I whisper in my heart, " We meet, one day, to never part ! " Go ! happy Star, and find my love ! Your rays shall thrill her Irom above, Alone ! — There's yet one throb divine Which quivers from my heart to thine ! Down the dark mountain sweeps the wind, And leaves me lingering here behind ! Alone ! — Ah ! Take these words in fee ! My greeting ! Loved and Lost ! To Thee ! 12 6 OFFSHORE. ©ft Sbore. Around, a dark and starless sea Throbs in its wind-swept minor strain, — The rising gale sings in the sail, In varying tones that ring again ! The vault unflecked by silvery star, Domes high above ! Ah ! Lost we are ! Beyond all thralls of earthly calls, The breaking surge, at intervals, — Throws phosphor sparks of gold on high ! Here, with no lingering cares hard by, We drift ! Sweep on ! Oh, happy sea ! My Love is nestling near to me ! The land we knew is lost to view ! There's not one gleaming spark in sight.— Our heart-throbs golden moments note, As, shadowed in the night we float ! Sing on, Wild Winds ! Sing in my heart ! Ah, Love ! For never shall we part. But sail on Life's o'er shadowed main, Till Love shall waft us " Home Again ! ' OFFSHORE. I27 For our love knows nor bounds nor lines, — No stretch of Time, nor World's confines, The heart which throbs alone for me — Is mine, — to all Eternity ! £2 g JULIE BEATRICE. 3ulfe Beatrice. I READ no message in your eyes, — For, Love still in them, dreaming lies ! These happy days, a magic seek To bid your eyes their story speak. Unspoken words, to thrill the heart That waits, in cloudland, yet for thee ! That Soul now lingering far apart, But, thine, — to all eternity ! For Love's sweet domain is now decreed. — The fairy Prince, from slumbers freed, Is wandering, with longing eyes, — To meet yours, in Love's sweet surprise ! Julie Beatrice ! Queen ! Somewhere, A fairy realm waits ! Love alone Will break the waiting charm which binds, And, bid you to a golden throne ! I know the prison where you wait For his touch, at the fairy gate. The garden of my heart now holds You, till that future sweet unfolds ! JULIE BE A TRICE. j 2g And forth with him, then, hand in hand, You wander to the golden west, — Your wakened heart thrilled with Love's Song Your wandering feet seek happy rest ! 9 1 , TO MOLL.Y. Go flfooll£. A Bewitching Young A merican Matron at the German Court. Robert Burns sang long ago, wi' a sweet Scottish lassie in his een. " Molly's meek ! Molly's sweet ! Molly's modest and discreet. Molly's rare, Molly's fair, Molly's everything that's neat." «« Which I wish to remark — " Molly's pretty ! Molly's witty ! She's the toast of all the city. Molly's form takes by storm. Molly can't be mine — a pity ! Molly lays the " fremden " out, As they gape and stare about. — Molly made the Kaiser's eyes, Bulge in "Kaiserliche " surprise ! Molly is our very best ! When she's in her " war-paint " drest, — Go and gaze in mute surprise ! Venus, — with Minerva's eyes ! TO MOLLY. j-j For Molly's sake the oath I'd take To love her sisters and her brothers ! — I'll go jump into the lake ! Hang it ! Molly is another's ! Just my Luck ! ! ! !, 2 STAR OF THE EAST. Star of tbe East Lean Low ! Sweep low ! Down to the western sea, Star of the East ! Thou bringest my dearest, near to me ! Over her darling face pillowed far, thy trembling light, Has stolen in, at her window, to kiss her my last "Good Night ! " Over my dearest's sleeping form, thy pale white halo glows, As moonlight searches the secrets hid, in the heart of the dreaming rose ! Happy bright star ! That droopeth down to the throbbing sea ! Bring me the shining message, her eyes gave unto thee ! Sweetest eyes I've often kissed, under her own red light, — Their loving message thou tellest me ! «' My Dearest One ! Good Night ! " STAR OF THE EAST. „ Sweep up, once more, from under the world ! oh ! faithful star, and tell Her I dream, in rapture, of meeting ! Star of the East ! Farewell ! j- 4 TO THE CONQUEROR. Zo tbe Conqueror* I want to feel you love me only, My conqueror ! So happy now, I want to know, when you are lonely, — Love's light lingers on your brow. A double happiness our treasure, — The boon denied to crowned kings. I want Love's cup filled beyond measure When your dear hand the chalice brings. I want no other form beside me, No eyes to speak to mine, but yours, — If Fortune all else has denied me, Love's sweet empire still endures. — I want your soul ! Its mystic blessing Which round my heart its magic flings ! I want your lips, their love expressing, — I want that voice, whose music rings ! I want no song, upon me stealing, In which your love-thrill echoes not ! My heart, its tender trust revealing, Heaven with you, — the world forgot ! TO THE CONQUEROR. x ~ - I want your head — upon my breast, Love, — Your eyes which sweetly, softly shine ! I want to share that blissful rest, Love, Your fond heart beating, close to mine ! 36 DRIFTING IN THE NIGHT. Driftina in tbe IKiobt. Our white sail gleamed, on summer seas, beneath bright skies We drift, but slowly now ! Love held the helm, — the course marked by your eyes, — We drift, in darkness now ! And if your heart is loving yet, still true to me, — Dear one ! The sail is trembling, — and, — I can- not see ! I know the joys which smiled, beside that pur- pled shore ! We drift, in silence now ! The love-light in your eyes which thrills my soul no more, We drift, to leeward now ! I hear the sullen breakers roar, — the land I can- not see, — But, my fond heart is wildly whispering, " Dan- ger ! " now to me ! The night is dark, and cruel rocks hem in the narrow bay, We drift at midnight, now ! DRIFTING IN THE NIGHT. j Cbecfcstfooft. 1864-1892. AN OLD CADET'S MEMORIES. Old book ! you now admonish me, My race of life is nearly run, — A score of years have slipped away, Since last I heard the morning gun ! And yet, at forty-six, the man, — In Fancy's glass can sometimes see : — The bright-faced boy, who crawled out slow, At rattling drums of reveille ! The Point is changed ! the men are gone Who ruled or toiled, who flanked and drilled. Some passed beyond the stars, and some By the wild " blooming Injuns " killed ! The sons of these, in jackets gray Now shadow forth their father's faces, — And bright-eyed girls, in shady walks Reflect their lovely mothers' graces ! THAT OLD CHECK. BOOK. jqj And still, the moonlight sleeps as soft On sculptured hill and flowing river The bugles sink, the " old flag" flies ! — And " boning math " goes on forever ! The budding spring its sunshine casts On worn and jaded student brows, — And leafy June her mantle rare Of beauty, round the " old Point " throws i I've traveled round the weary world, And roamed the plains, with princes dined, Whatever fate has brought my way, I've held my faith and ne'er repined ! There may be sorrows in my path To throw their shadows o'er me yet ! But, faithful to the ancient creed I'll meet them like an «« old Cadet ! " As round my grizzled head the smoke In fairy cloud-puffs curls and wreathes, — Again from Crow Nest's beetling cliff The purest air of Heaven blue, breathes ! I think I see the dear gray line, Hear Forrest Black's rich voice once more, — Again I sit with aching brow And bone my mathematics o'er ! Those welcome gallops " down the road " The love maze of Flirtation's walks : — !q 2 THA T OLD CHECK-BOOK. And while the music sweetly sounds From " Hop room," those sweet stolen talks ! That darling girl who smiled on me, Lies cold with violets on her breast ! Her voice still thrills me from the past Her gentle heart is long at rest ! There's touches here of dark and light — Friends passed away, some cold, and yet, My heart is thrilling wild to-night With " Memories of an old Cadet ! " " GO/.VG OUT." ^3 <3ofng Out. Fill up with merry hearts, dear friends, And mock the hours too fleeting, This night for parting makes amends — I give my final greeting ; May memories of the olden times Be ever dear as now — Stand up and drink it every one — The old times, boys : Here's " how ! " The flag, the dear old flag we loved, That braved the storm and rattle, Of troublous times, when fortune frowned, And chance gave way the battle ; That fluttered o'er us as we scaled Old Lookout's beetling brow. — Up, up ; and drain a parting glass ! God bless the flag. Here's " how ! — Silence ! Remember all the men Our comrades ever cherished Who dropped so silently away ; The gallant hearts who perished — «3 ]g4 "GOING OUT." On many fields. The men we loved, — Whose memories thrill us now, — God bless them in their honored graves ! Our comrades gone. Here's " how ! " The ladies ! fill your goblets high, All honor to them giving : The soldier's constant champions, They make our life worth living. With loyal hearts in reverence, Each to his idol bow Tender and true. Up : every one, — " Sweethearts and wives ! " Here's " how ! Now, while each eye is kindling bright, Each warm heart quickly beating, A last word, mine, to say " good-bye," Good luck, and hopes for meeting. In the dim future all of you : — My voice will scarce allow The words ; but drink my parting toast — Good-bye the mess : Here's «* how ! " custer's luck: *95 Custer's Xucfc." Where the far Rosebud steals its way By the thickets' tangled blind, The dying echoes murmur On the fitful prairie wind. The rattling sabre's martial clank, The ring of the charger's heel, A cheery sound of a voice beloved Heard high o'er the sounding steel. A voice we knew and hailed of old, Our knight of the golden hair, More true than the furnace-tested gold, "George Custer" — the " debonair." 'Tis «« Custer's Luck ! " — the fluttering flag Sinks close to the trooper's hand, And a silken shroud it makes for him Under clinging prairie sand. Let the voice of woe be mute and hushed, The kindling eye be dry, As we learn from the trooper peerless The way for a man to die ! jq5 "CUSTER'S LUCK." And " Forward ! " " Forward ! " " Forward ! His cry rings on the wind ; 'Twas " Custer's Luck " to leave no man With a bolder heart behind ! Oh ! brave young General fallen — True hearts in rusty blue — Your story thrills the heart's warm core ; But where ! — ah ! where are you ? Out on the lonely prairie wild, Under God's circling sky, The sentinel stars our only guide To where our fallen lie ! THE IRISH SOLDIER. lc >j Gbe Urisb Sol&ter* Flung off as free as the wild wave's foam From the crags of her stormy coast — 'Neath alien skies — they sleep to-day, The men of Ireland's host. The shamrock green their monument, In silent ranks they lie, As calm as her bright and dreaming lakes Sleep under their native sky. All cold the warrior's nerved hands, All stilled the springing feet. No more they storm the yawning breach Or whirl in squadrons fleet. Their tattered banners borne afar, In every land remain, In honor wreathed round Irish tombs O'er swords without a stain. 9 Above their graves the kinsmen tread In pride on Patrick's day, With shamrock green in memory worn Of heroes passed away. Ig 8 THE IRISH SOLDIER. As every true heart wears its bit Of green and lovely shoots, He knows beneath the Emerald sod The dead clutch at its roots ! You cannot drive from Ireland's hearts A love of sword and song ; You cannot smother fires long-lit By cold and brutal wrong ! The native gold of Irish wit, Of truth and honor rare, Lies deep in Patrick's chosen isle — The stranger finds it there. Far from the " sod " her soldiers sleep, Beneath soft Spanish skies ; Or, buried 'mid the springing corn Of Belgium, Paddy lies ! Where, side by side with England's pride, In bloody Death's confines, True to their flag, against their friends, The Irish held the lines ! The sand slopes of the dark Redan Are built o'er Irish bones ; In India many a trooper lost The trumpet's signal tones, As, cold in death, he fell beneath The English flag to save A sordid crowd who live to bind Their fetters on the slave ! THE IRISH SOLDIER. jgg We know their worth — these Irish lads — Who oft their truth to show, Have borne our star-flag high aloft From Maine to Mexico — And honors mantle bright around These Celtic knights who lie Dead under the blue of the northern lights, Or the gray of a southern sky. Here's to their honored memory — bless The land which gave them birth. These Irish soldiers, staunch and true, Free lances of the earth. Long may their children keep in mind These men who " showed the way " — Who charged to "Garryowen," and All cold round " Custer " lay. Stout hearts, true hands, we fill our glass To Ireland and her sons ! In silence drain ! To honor all Who fell beside their guns ! The sunburst flag may never wave On earth, yet will be seen For ages wrapped in Fame's brightest wreath, The Irish Standard green ! THEY'RE VOICELESS NOW, they've XDoicelesz IRow. Upon the lonely, still parade Shines down a Winter moon, In peace the old guns stand arrayed By fort and demi-lune. There's many a Summer rose has bloomed, Since silent, back, they came ; Their thunder stilled, no more they scream With bronze lips breathing flame. Bright eyes are closed, the voices mute Which bade their hoarse throats tell How much we loved the starry flag ; They served their country well. A spell of blessed, holy peace Broods o'er us all. Amen ! God help the foe who makes us wake Their echoes once again ! FELHAM'S LAST FIGHT: 20I " iPelbam's last SfiQhU" A Story of a Galla?it Foeman. They lay beside the warworn guns, As bold as men may be, — The Horse Artillery — Stewart's pride — The pets of Robert Lee. Above them, sighed the Southern pines ; The river sang below. Far glittered on a thousand heights The watchfires of the foe. Came thundering hoofs— a dashing aid ; " Move out, sharp, to the front ; 'Tis Uncle Robert calls you there To take the battle's brunt." The moonbeams showed the mustering Horse Their boy commander stood And leaned — a stripling — on his sword Hard by the gloomy wood. A daring boy, the raiders fought By sound of Pelham's guns — 2 02 " PELHA M'S LAST FIGHT} The youngest, brightest, bravest Of old Alabama's sons ! On Bull Run's bloody plains that lad Had held his battery well, — While wood and valley echoed back Hoarse screams of shot and shell. Calm, quiet, gentle, Pelham moved, The darling of the fight ; The Southern laurels on his brow To cypress changed that night. Freemantle spoke, that Guardsman tried : " My lad ! our colors here, A symbol at my neck I've worn For many a weary year. " This regimental badge we guard In honor, England's sons — Come, wear it in this fight for me ; — I'll think of Pelham's guns ! " The fair boy twined the Coldstream's scarf Around his breast so true ; And faintly smiled when asked he might Some deed of daring do. Bright morning brought the battle's roar. When that long day was done John Pelham lay, a mangled corpse, Beside his favorite gun. " PELHAM'S LAST FIGHT." 2Q , A stricken Colonel dropped the flag Old Alabama gave ; Quick, Pelham caught the falling staff, His state's renown to save. He turned his horse. He led them on — The red upon his breast, The Coldstream's ribbon, redder grew, Dyed with his heart's blood best ! Montgomery knows the marble shaft Which cons his glory o'er ; The English Colonel treasures yet That ribbon Pelham wore ! And Southern friend and Northern foe — Seek the young raider's grave — The boy artillerist — loved by all — The bravest of the brave ! 2Q4 "ON THE BRINK." ©n tbe JBrfnft. [ What the IV or king man has to say to our new Chinese Em- bassador. A Rough Song for Rough Times, .] I. Lay down your gilded chop-sticks, Leave Ah Sing's banquet fine, Step out of the Chinese Joss house And look at this home of mine. Gaze on our empty workshops, You hear the toilers shout, If that brown cancer broadens, We mean to cut it out. We go to empty larders, Our idle children throng The silent streets, and you may find Though we have waited long, That labor's sons will gather The filthy horde to rout ; We loathe that Chinese cancer, And swear to cut it out ! ' ' ON THE BRINK.' ' 2q h III. We've waited hopeless, heartsick, And see our paper laws Fly tattered in the ocean breeze — The Chinese dragon claws — Crawl nearer every dreary day, We mean to end all doubt, And now you hear the people cry, We'll cut the cancer out. IV. Curse on the politician, Who clutches Chinese gold ! We tire of fine-spun pleading, Wise saws and maxims old ! Let on the bench each dreamy judge In grave abstraction pout ; They'll wake in fright when maddened men Shall cut this cancer out. Who holds the breast to battle ? Who delves in steaming mines ? Who pushes Labor's car ahead Where peace and freedom shines ? Go ask your filthy heathens Our country's foes to rout ! They sap our walls — the traitor horde- We'll drive the brown scum out ! 20 6 "ON THE BRINK." VI. Now by the wives whose bread we earn, The children at the knee — By helpless age and sorrow's voice, This land is for the free ! And white and black are on their track, The workers face about, And swear by Christian manhood true To dig that cancer out ! VII. Be warned in time ! The idle shop, The squalid white man's home, And mutterings loud 'neath trouble's cloud, Tell of a storm to come ; And when it bursts, as burst it will, Nor gun nor Russian knout Can tame the men who swear to God To cut that cancer out ! VIII. Dark festering dens, all pagan-crammed — Disease and filth there reign — Make foul our town. We stopped them once, The tide pours in again. But venal gold may lose its power, And corporations doubt Their pluck and power to meet the hour We drive the Chinese out. "ON THE BRINKS 20 ~ IX. We watch the course of failing- trades — See skill and talent wait In idle loss, and count each month, Here at our Golden Gate ! A fresh invasion — opium-smeared Each dirty Chinese lout. There comes a bloody day and dark To drive the villains out ! x. Shall pagan crime our children slime — And mongrel races breed — With empty mouth and idle hands Our starving ones to feed. We listen to Desperation's voice And bare our right arms stout, There'll be a crash the day we rise And cut the cancer out ! XI. These voices rise from men who love Their children, homes and wives — And to a holy cause and great We dedicate our lives. Just is our claim, on triumph bent, In peace or else without, — From honest hearts an oath goes up- We drive these devils out ! 20 g " ON THE BRINK." XII. Oh ! swimmers in the golden tide Of wealth, look out ahead — The day will come when death is cheap ! There's ten per cent, on bread. When not an earthly power can stem These floods when once let out ! The passions wild of maddened men, Who scourge these rascals out. THINK OF LEE AND JACKSON: 209 "Gbfnft of Xee ano Sacftson." Waiting for the battle, November 1, 1880. To-night, in mystic watch beside the armor of her sons, The spirit of Columbia waits and mourns her fallen ones. With eagle glance to pierce the gloom and read our fate aright, She kneels at Freedom's altar now — the priestess of the night. Sad gazing on our war-worn ranks, where vacant files there be, She whispers, with a trembling lip— My children, think of Lee \ Think of the dreadful battle years ! think of our country's woe ; Think of the poor, down-trodden black you freed so long ago ; Think of the wasted homes lit up with reason's blazing brands ; Think of the rebel raising now his murder-reek- ing hands ! 14 2 j " THINK OF LEE A ND J A CKSON." Think of your God and country, of the smiling land you see Spread out to-day in sweet array — the land of Robert Lee. Who sold the bondsman's offspring ? Who burned our ships afloat ? Who held the slaver's bowie knife at Freedom's shrinking throat ? Who failed to beat in battle, but now steal within our lines To babble Treason's folly in the shade of Northern pines ? Who bids a bribe for traitors ? My children, look and see Embattled on to-morrow's field the men who rode with Lee ! Think yet again of Robert Lee ! Our country's ward in youth, With place and power and genius great ! alas, not great in truth ! Who turned the sword Virginia gave against his country's breast, And rode in civil war's mad whirl with Jackson and the rest ! Ah ! Better had he died a child by a fond mother's knee, Than bleed his country's mother breast ! — my children, think of Lee ! " THINK OF LEE AND J A CKSON. " 2II Turn ! turn again, ye veterans of many Southern fights ! And range round freedom's fastnesses beneath the northern lights. Meet once again ! our flag above in steadfast manly calm — Wait for the battle shock of old — " the Pine against the Palm ! " Think of the homes you love, of right, of law and liberty, And deal a blow as long ago you gave the hosts of Lee. Enough ! I hear the gathering hosts who stand for God and right ; The Northern eagle leaves his pine and circles in the night ; The morning mists roll far away ! Close up ! Your ranks I scan. Firm as a rock ! A leader's there who's every inch a man. Our Grant, who smote them hip and thigh, this battle morn I see, Point there the way to victory with the captured sword of Lee ! The spring shall bring its blossoms forth and peaceful harvests yield Their golden gains on many a once blood-reeking battle-field ; 212 " THINK OF LEE A ND J A CKSON. " The swallows build in silent guns when victory's salvos die, And evening stars of thankfulness shall light our Northern sky ! Bring, then, in peace your offerings ! Bend at our graves the knee, And breathe a Heaven imploring prayer for Jackson and for Lee ! KAISER WILLIAM REVIEWS HIS GUARDS. 2I , •Raiser William IRevfews hie <3uar&s. Templehof, Berlin, August 18, 1894. Heavens ! How it stirs the blood to see, Far stretching, the emerald band Of Templehof — for here the Guards, Full twenty thousand, stand. Ready ! The wind shakes the linden leaves, The Uhlans' pennons wave ; And the lines, embattled, sweep afar In a silence stern and grave. Out from the busy city pours A sullen burgher crowd, And a hundred thousand, breathless, wait To hear the clarion loud. To the west, the palace barracks Shames the toiler's hovel mean ; And prince and beggar throng to-day To view the heart-thrilling scene. Far stretches the doubled battle line : The flower of the Prussian Foot 2 j . A'^ AS'.EA' WILLI A M RE VIE WS HIS G UA RDS. Is here, with the horsemen ranged behind ; — Then the guns — with their voices mute ! Brilliant hussar and the lancers gay ; The steel-sheathed cuirassier ; The Kaiser's Guards, and with star and plume The Generals hover near. Out on the green he dashes now By "divinest right of Kings " — The eagle-eyed German Kaiser Whose pawns are these senseless things ! For he, is the Hohenzollefn chief ;- And it made me hold my breath To think that one wave of his lordly hand Could send all these men to death ! Bursting in wild acclaim, the bugles Wail to the echoing sky ; And " Hoch ! " yells the loyal soldier As his Kaiser goes riding by ! Golden his sash, the silver eagle Soars over his kingly head, And the star on his cuirass flashes — His black has a stately tread. After her lord, in a robe of white, Rides the winsome Kaiserin, And a sparkling train of nobles ; The music has ceased its din. KA ISER WILLI A M RE VIE \VS HIS GUAR DS. 2I c Now — the Emperor looks toward Russia, As they wait the imperial glance Or one wave of his hand ; but that battle line Is sternly facing France ! And now they break into column In knightly passage, they own The awful oath that binds them down To the steps of the German Throne ! The dazzle of colors and glitter Of stars blinds my dreaming eye, And I lose for a moment this passion play In a vision of years gone by. I see them ! Those fair-haired English lads Who lay by the dark Redan,— The peerless French horse who withered In the hell fire of Sedan ! The darlings of Russia lying At Plevna, with sightless eyes, And the thousands who bled at Majenta "To please their Majesties." Our land has its holy of holies Where we " tried out our case " by might, And brothers' heart's blood long watered Our fields, where both fought for the right ! The lean, gray-eyed Virginians Whom peerless Pickett led — 2 ! 6 KA ISER WILLI A M RE VIE WS HIS GUA RDS. Ah ! That field of Spottsylvania, With its piles of brave Yankee dead ! " Why are there so many soldiers ? " Asks the little maid at my side — And I start, and dare not answer, 41 Just to flatter a monarch's pride ! " For death stops the path to glory ! I muse — " Does he understand He must not that royal sword unsheath, Save for the Fatherland ? " Ah ! Prussia ! Your days of greatness Came with Frederic the Wise, And 'tis only the Sword of the German State, — That before the Kaiser lies ! He passes beneath my window ! And — a shuddering burgher band Gaze anxiously on their Kaiser, With that sword so near his hand ! THE SONG OF THE CA VALRY BUGLE. 217 Gbe Song of tbe Cavalry JBuslc. 1 861-1865. AN OLD SOLDIER'S REVERIE. In the hush of the calm and peaceful night, When all is lone and still, I think I hear an old-time strain, An echo from the hill ; My heart beats fast — my pulses bound — Old friends I seem to see — The ringing, singing bugle brings The old days back to me ! I care not for the serried ranks — The battery's rumbling noise — The patter of fleet chargers' hoofs Alone — bids me rejoice — With old-time saucy yellow crests We swept across the lea — When the ringing warrior bugle sang Its sweetest note to me ! I know its voice — each clarion note That bade my heart-strings thrill ! ?I g THE SONG OF THE CAVALRY BUGLE. There's " Reveille," — and " Stables " With " Taps " when all is still ! The " Forward " — now — the " Rally " — And " Charge " — it used to be — In olden days through battle-smoke — The bugle sang to me ! I heard that voice above the fight At " Aldie " when with pride We drove the foe, it sadly sang When Philip Kearny died ! — At Yellow Tavern, too, it wailed A requiem, wild and free — And, how it thrilled at " Opequan " The loyal blood in me ! Great God ! that day and grand array Crowds back from buried years ! With Custer's face — the scene to grace And Lowell's name brings tears ! With Bayard, Buford and the rest — Gone to Eternity. The ringing singing bugle's note Has magic power of me ! Kilpatrick ! daring gallant soul And Dahlgren's graceful shade — With Sheridan — still in the van In battle-garb arrayed ! They've ridden to the silent night — Yet oft their forms I see — THE SONG OF THE CAVALRY BUGLE. 2I g When the ringing singing bugle brings The old clays back to me ! Oh ! Loved and lost on every field, Your heads are lying low ; Some where the roses bloom in peace And some 'neath prairie snow — The olden music calls you up, Again I seem to see — The men I loved to follow when The bugle sang to me ! 2 2 O " THERE'S ROSE MA R 1 V " £bere's IRoscmar^— Gbat's for IRemenn brance." 1894. Again the solemn day returns When, round the graves of brave and true, We wreathe our gallant soldiers' urns, With rosemary and rue For thirty-three long years have seen Our flag stream out on every sky : No other banner o'er our dead,— No brighter stars their canopy. Since last the Stars and Bars came down, When hostile cannon ceased to roar, The stars that glitter o'er our dead, Once thirty-six — are forty-four ! And " Round the flag " — we rally still, The veterans brought by maid and wife To wreathe the shrines where brothers lie, Who gave our Land each precious life They held their breast to battle's blast, That we might live in peace, to-day ; " THERE'S ROSE MA RV» 221 And, as our country's songs we voice, We brush the bitter tears away. Flowers for the Brave ! And Love's fond wreath, Lie lightly on their gallant breasts ! For tender maid and gallant youth, Mourn where the silent hero rests ! Raise high the song ! Lift up the hand ! Beside the soldiers' flower-decked sod, Be ours to-day, to keep the oath They kept — to Country and to God ! The myrtle and the laurel twine Around the rosemary and rue ! Let children's voices raise to-day, Hosannas for the brave and true ! These crumbling names on mossy stones Recall the void in aching hearts, But all the pride our country owns To us a newer flame imparts ! The patriot here, — the hero there, Deep hidden from our mortal eyes, — Unite to-day in grateful prayer, Where every silent soldier lies ! The ranks grow thin we muster here, For comrades gather up above ; And take their places once again, In blue lines, golden linked, in Love ! 222 THE DEAD SPEAK FOR THE LIVING. XXbe Dead Speaft for tbe Xiving. Veterans' Home, San Francisco, Thanksgiving Day, There's a voice from the death-haunted forests- A sound by the storied shore — A note in the breeze through the lonely trees, That speaks of the days no more. Our war-flags are worn and tattered, The bright swords gnawed by rust, And the men who swung them feeble now, Or mute in their kindred dust. The grim, loud-speaking cannons, Are muzzled near twenty years — Ah ! side by side with the foeman's pride, Lie the silent volunteers ! Some sleep in the proudest warrior rest, Hold yet their dead ranks in line ; Some to sunnier lands by friendly hands, Borne in tenderness divine. We rear for the dead the marble shaft, We wreathe their graves with flowers — Our dimmed eyes glisten — in vain we listen For the gallant boys "of Ours." THE DEAD SPEAK FOR THE LIVING. Yet, to-day, beyond their ghostly lines, Where their silent watch they keep, Where'er our flag is consecrate, On land or 'neath the deep ! A cry swells like the ocean's moan, From lips we cannot see — The last appeal from brothers lost, Our country's chivalry. They call from the gloomy gravepits, And whisper from out the tomb ; " Our brothers ! torn and shattered ! Say ! Shall they have a Home ? " 223 224 IN THE RANKS. f n tbe IRanfts. The Major's Story. " How did I get in the ranks ? Well ! Major, I'll tell you the truth ! I was born very far above this, And Fortune smiled on my youth ! " So "Gentleman Burke," said slowly, his eyes fixed full on mine, As, hid in a Bad Lands canyon, We watched the red sun decline. 'Twas a desperate ride, for, man to man, We had stood the Sioux off all day, And the trooper and I were stealing out To bring help from far away. " Why was I there ? " 'Twas my duty, And high time some one should go, So, I chose Trooper Burke, the best rider,' Beyond any man I know ! There was a hint of Galway, Or the Curragh of Kildare, The old Enniskillens — in his hand— The lightest rider there. Game ! All the devils from Hell IN THE RANKS. 22 r Could not show him a soldier's work ! All the men of the regiment knew full well The nerve of " Hard Riding Burke ! " I had often tried to win him Across the thin golden line Of rank, but a silent pride would still, In his fearless gray eyes shine ! But, on this night, it was man and man, — For rank was a mockery then ! As we clutched our " Winchesters " tightly, While hid in the Devil's Den. "We may not both get through — so, I'll tell you, — There's a child, — there, — far away, — And, she'll be a Burke of Clanricarde — God bless her ! — I hope, some day. There's the address ! I'd have them know If anything chance to me ; 'Twill settle the score of long ago ! That letter from over the sea ! " Hid in the deep gully — waiting night — In this hour of the dying day, We crouched in fear, lest a charger's whinny Should give us " dead away ! " For the bold " dog soldiers " were riding In war-paint, near and far, And, we braced ourselves for a rattling run Beneath the blue North-star ! We crunched the broken-up hard-tack And pork from the scanty store, They forced upon their messengers, *5 22 5 IN THE RANKS. The men they might see no more ! And, the shadows crept down, then blackening The slopes of each towering hill, And that trooper lay there beside me, I think I can see him still ! "Here's the address, now, Major ! " he handed a well-worn card. II Don't use it, unless you can answer, if you meet me afterward. I've lived like a devil, just as hard, as any mortal can, But, only let little Aileen know, her father died like a man ! " You see ! I was young, when I met her In Her Majesty's Service, then, — Ah ! Major ! Don't ask the Regiment, For, you'd have to guess again ! " I was the younger son, — and going a rattling pace, When, all my soul leaped up at the sight of that woman's face ! One of those goddess women, who make the unhappiest wives, Fatally born to rule over, and wreck we mad men's lives ! " And while the night winds wailed, he bowed his head and then His bitter tears fell fast, on the stones of the Devil's Den ! IN THE RANKS. 22 y " She was another man's wife, the old, old story, you know ! — He was a brute ! I loved her ! oh ! God ! and — she would not go ! Every day the flame grew fiercer within my heart, — Was there never a pitying storm of Life to drift our souls apart? No ! For that lily face, — the violet eyes were still In my daily life, in my tossing dreams, they hovered for good or ill. I shunned her walks ! I tried to tear her out of my fiery heart. She saw my struggle ! It woke her love ! We could not live apart ! We tried the old, old fiction — you know — to play with love's mad fire, But every clasp of our burning hands only drew our two souls nigher ! Of course she was happy ! I was blind ! He saw the love in her eyes ! He struck her, the brute, in my presence ! — I know how a craven dies ! For the fatal chance had come on us ! He knew we were in his power, And, that stained my hand with blood ! The curse of that luckless hour ! I fled ? ah ! yes ! You can guess the rest ! Disgraced ! a family shame. And then, from the rolls of. the Horse Guards, they struck out my blackened name. 22 8 IN THE RANKS. It was all my fault ! I was the man, and — I could not keep away From the woman I loved ! Her sweet face haunts me, unto this very day ! Young, and too good for sorrow, a prey to the canting rules, That break the hearts of the loving, — and cover the knaves and fools ! Lighter step did never the listening roses wake ; And her eyes had a tender sheen, like the dreaming star on the lake. Dian and Venus tinted her cheek, and gave her her wind-blown hair. A gentler heart never fluttered beneath a bosom as fair ! There was no one knew my track, but a priest whom I loved in my youth. He shielded me, God bless him, but spoke out the bitter truth, — * Breaking heart, and blood-stained hand, your passion's work this day. I'll watch over her, though,' he said, ' when you are far away ! When you are safe in hiding, — when you've your reason quite, — Let me tell her you are living — only for that you can write.' — So, where the wild waves fling their crests, over an alien sea, I hid for three weary years ! By Heaven, she came over there, to me ! IN THE RANKS. 22 g For never the priest was born could withstand Aileen's eyes ; And, the black robe hides a human heart, though buried deep it lies ! There was a glimpse of Heaven on Earth ! God bless her, I married her then. And little Aileen came to us ! I lifted my head again, — But, there was a viewless devil too, that walked unseen at my side, And, her arms clung close round my necl^ in love, on that winter night she died. Ah ! But the heavy heart I bore, as I laid my dead love to rest, And my little Aileen dropped the last rose on her ' pretty mamma's ' breast ! I covered my dead from the sight of men ! I sent the child away, To where the purpling shadows wreathe the crags of Galway Bay. And up and down the wide world, I wandered, a price on my head, — For the priest is the one man faithful, and, — Aileen thinks I am dead. So ! There you are ! A broken heart, — a man with a stain on his life — Who is dead and buried already, in the grave of his vanished wife ! I tried all the world's hard ways, — but a trooper's jacket's the best, — ' It covers a multitude of sins, 'out here in the trackless west ! " 230 IN THE RANKS. There was no sound but the night wind, wailing soft and low, As Burke unhobbled the horses, and whispered " It's time to go ! " For red Aldebaran hung over us, up there in the gloomy sky, And as we swung into our saddles, I caught the bold trooper's eye. He tosssed up his carbine lightly, marked the star to fix his north, And gaily cried " Now, Major ! Good luck to the dear old Fourth.' He turned his eyes away from me then, to cover an outcast's pride ! As I grasped his hand, for the only time, as I galloped along at his side ! Down, down into the gulf of night, we rode with bated breath, And sped along where each moment might bring us to our death. For even the horses knew it, as the wolf's long howl rang out, And the sneaking coyotes barked afar like the dogs of an Indian scout ! Burke had a second set of the messages, hid in my breast And he rode as light as a race rider, with his carbine poised at rest. I thought of a dear face watching, afar in the East, for me, IN THE RANKS. 2 T.\ And I dreamed, as I rode, of my boyish days, of camp and reveille ; Of my youthful soldier fancies, before the frontier I knew, — Ot those girls at the Point, whose glances were deadlier than the Sioux ! Still, still at my side, in that awful ride, the trooper lithe sped on, With his yearning dreams of that vacant chair, and the loved one dead and gone ! Perchance, his thoughts had wandered far, to Aileen, there, at play — Where the yeasty surges whiten round the smiling Galway Bay. And a silence wrapped these dreamy hours where only the charger's feet Kept time to the agony that thrilled in my care- worn heart's quick beat. Far, far behind us, leaguered sore, our blue-clad brothers lay, Who looked to us to send the help, with the dawn of their battle-day. As mile after mile receded, Burke raised his head in pride, " By Jove ! I think we'll make it, Major ! a lucky ride ! " For there, before us, distant loomed, a point which both well knew, — And down behind it lay the camp, with help to fight the Sioux 1 2 , 2 IiV THE RANKS. Mile after mile we covered until rose the star of Hope !— Alas ! for our self-confidence, we vainly round did grope — It was the blindest riding there without a glint of light, When we ran into a hostile camp, screened in the gloom of night. " Indians ! " was Burke's last startled cry, " Major ! Don't wait ! Ride on ! " — And as the rifles rang out sharp, I felt all hope was gone ! [g ra y» — Wheeling in a mad dash, I spurred the frightened And wildly he sprang out through the night and swiftly raced away. I dared not turn or draw my rein, or even look behind, For the fate of a whole command was gaged on that race in the chill night wind ! Crack ! crack ! behind ! I knew it well, — the rattling carbine's ring ! — And then, the Indian's frantic yells around a senseless thing ! I drew no rein until I rode into camp with blood- shot eyes, — And roused them there upon the Platte, an hour before sunrise ! The gallant gray had never lowered his graceful racing head, But, when he reached the picket line, he staggered — and fell dead ! IN THE RANKS. 2 ,, My pistols empty ! Both ! By God ! I hope I did some harm ! — They told me I rode fifteen miles with a broken bridle-arm. " You shall be named in orders," said the Colonel, " for this work ; " As he ordered " Boots and Saddles," but my heart was back, — with Burke ! The story drove all frantic ! I told where the village lay, — And they rode out as the crow flies, before the break of day. There were ringing cheers and sudden tears as the sun on that fight went down, And the leaguered troopers saw afar their comrades gaunt and brown. — With fluttering guidons on they rode, and drove the Brules far, — The quest was done ! The lucky chance, of that stern frontier war. Before the fever left me, the surgeon at his work, Growled " You had lost your reason, — and, only called for Burke ! " Alas ! My trooper comrade ! When they bore the poor shell back ; It told of tortures far beyond grim Torquemada's rack. We gave him soldiers' honors, with ringing volleys three, 2 , 4 IN THE RANKS. Laid there beside the Platte, to wait the Last Great Reveille" ! It was a month before my eyes gazed on a brighter scene ! I had Father Cullen's letter, with the sweet face of Aileen ! 'Twas my hand sent her mother's picture to the little maid ; I kept a curl of baby hair, and thought what Burke had said, The " dandy Fourth " my secret shared, and then we all began To show the Galway maiden, that her father died a man ! " God rest him ! " Father Cullen wrote. " His soul is white again ! He gave the life he shadowed once, to save his fellow-men. Love in their ashes lingers, who paid the price on earth, So back to Galway send him, to the spot that gave him birth ! " To-day a tombstone bearing " Burke of the Fourth," in pride — Shines out in that far chapel, his by vanished Aileen's side ! Yes ! There were dear eyes waiting, afar, to shine on me ! A slender hand, with wedding ring, clasped mine upon the sea. IN THE RANKS. 2 ,e We wandered to the land that's loved, •« the dearest and the most," — And in the Galway hills, we knew the priest, a gentle host. Tears hovered in my darling's eyes, the kindest, in their mien, As to her breast she clasped in love, — the trooper's child, Aileen ! " She is her mother's picture ! God's child ! fair, and innocent ! " He raised his hand ! in blessing, and, forth in peace, we went ! — The little maid wears " sabres crossed," which bear our number, " Four," — And dreams in pride of Trooper Burke, whose battle-days are o'er ! 236 A IV AIL FROM AFAR I 21 "email from Bfar ! A Ballad of '94. Tis "sweet" to hear the honest watch-dogs " bark," 'Tis sweet to own a bark — "upon the sea," 'Tis sweet to go upon a private lark And have a frolic, on the " strict q. t." ; — But sweetest joy of all, beyond the pond, The lean-eyed Yankee, chancing far to roam, Finds, is to sit down in a lonely hour, And energetically howl for Home ! " Breathes there a man " — there does, an "awful lot," Who care not for the land which gave them birth, But, when they wander, by their friends forgot, They are the greatest " kickers " on the earth ! The things they hated when in Podunkville — They growled at all the universe — Become delightful as the kicker finds, That over here all things are worse ! A WAIL FROM AFAR! 2 ?j You miss the papers and the telegrams, The very " ads " at which we roar — The face of the Cosmetic Man — And Lydia Pinkham, greet no more ! In strange old "burgs," of lingo harsh- The boring tour you stumble through, Alone and sad, you'd hail as friend The man of the Three Dollar Shoe ! The towns you scorned in Yankeeland Shine out with fond affection's tints. Your enemies you also miss, Who are howled at in the daily prints ! For all seems dear when over here, Though beer is cheap, and food is bad. — For the old " flesh-pots " come to you, Which once in Yankeeland you had ! Those Yankee girls away at home, Love shining in their sparkling eyes ! The roar of Broadway, and — the Cops, The journals with delightful lies ! The telephone with "git up git," The hackmen's howl discordant, far, Our Yankee drinks, our Yankee yachts And even, the festive Pullman car ! For chilly Boston smiles — at last, — And — Washington draws from afar, And slumbrous Philadelphia shines Out as a " bright particular star ! " 238 A WAIL FROM AFAR! And, even at — Chicago's — name — The exile does not stand aghast, St. Louis is a rattling burg — And Cincinnati charms — at last ! The " good square meal " you'd like to feel, Enshrined within you where you are, — The magazines you throw away, The journals with their daily jar, The newsboy, and the shackling L, The vilest nuisances are dear — For when you rove alone and sad You pay to find there's nothing here ! You catch the " home disease " at once When met with blooming British scorn, Among the plodding Germans, too, You learn to wish you'd not been born ! The smiling Frenchman, " Voila tout," The wild Italian " hairy man," And, driven through uncouth Russia far,— The unspeakable cold Austrian ! The dreary plays, the heavy wit, The prima-donnas by the ton ! — The tower of Babel crowding round Who scalp the Yankee, every one ! The fights at frontier and the way That people live in these far lands — Then, howls of wild profanity Break out which no one understands ! 239 A WAIL FROM AFAR ! You meet upon some dirty lane A strange, dejected, bearded man — And quarrel, kiss, and then make up, Because he's an American ! Pent up, harassed you madly hear The land you love so, always mocked, And suffer all the woes of life The fanes of Justice tightly locked ! Think, after six months rolls around, Of all the comforts that you left ! Of your pet " girl," your cozy club, Of all the joys you're now bereft ! And then you learn that distance lends A fond enchantment to the view, You cash your credit, buy a berth And cry " Now ! Captain ! Put her through ! Oh ! Friends at home who fondly paint One in the arms of Dukes and Earls, And " having the most royal time " — Be happy with your Yankee girls, Your Yankee joys, and all that makes Columbia what we fondly love ! If anything you lack at home Wait till you reach the realms above ! — A yearner now from " Yearnerville ! " How gladly out my cash I'd fork, And even through winter's storms be glad m To take the back track " to New York ! 2dO A WAIL FROM AFAR ! ' Yes ! Every word wells from my heart ! I've tried my feelings to express ! I close this with a bitter sigh And seal it " Fondly— R. H. S. ! " LOOKING BACKWARD. 241 XoofetttG JBacfcwatD. There's many a friend grim Time has stolen And worlds of feeling sadly changing, Hopes, dearly cherished winged afar And cloudland's visions farther ranging ; Of all that marks the passing years, Recalling each eventful scene- Yet dearer growing every day, The treasure is my old " dhudeen ! " A gift in vanished college days ! My feelings then were warm and plastic, As on Life's way I sped along With sunlit brows, youth's step elastic. I've roughed it through a varied world, Felt many a blow, and, unforeseen, Have struck the treacherous hidden snag — But stuck fast to the old " dhudeen." Oh ! boyhood's dreams ! Ah ! vows of love ! Sweet brightest eyes ! What follies spoken ! Of heads and hearts and good resolves A goodly number I've seen broken ! 16 2 . 2 LOOKING BA CKIVA RD. Long dropped the golden threads I prized And seen strange fortunes intervene : — Where'er I roamed, let come what would I've carried off my old " dhudeen ! " Old Pipe ! I've borne you 'round the world Have puffed, in silence, many seasons Have sought your comfort, gained from you For every folly thousand reasons ! Whenever from the straight path I Have wandered in dull error, often, You for my blindness made amends, And strove my bitterness to soften! We've seen the radiant sun go down On many a vista, famed in story. We've dreamed our dreams and seen the light Fade from sweet visions, lit with glory. Whatever fate has dealt me out, Of many things it has bereft me ! Dear faithful servitor of old ! I'm happier now that you are left me ! By woodland trail, on ocean's waste, Along the desert grim and sandy, We've made the world wide tour " in style " Sahara to the Rio Grande ! Through love-lit bowers, by paths of flowers, To where the way was dark and sterile, — In changing sunshine and in showers — In scenes of joy and hours of peril ! LOOKING BACKWARD. 343 We've travelled " first class ; " — we have trudged The frontier — foemen to distress us. We've " shone " in Paris, we have known The flattering schemer to caress us ! We've had our agony in Rome, Alone, — each fevered day, grown thinner — We've cashed our chips in ringing gold — And " shared the luck " with saint and sinner ! We've stood up to these turns of fate, When fortune smiled and friends were eager, Dark days in sickness we have passed Away from home, in bivouac meagre, — And yet in looking back, old friend, We cannot say life's cards have lacked us, And might have played a brilliant game If prudent wisdom always backed us ! I've watched with you the anxious night — No star its blackness to illumine, Your friendly incense comfort lone When far from consolations humane. Mute, ready, faithful to my will, Your quiet service still to render, Though battered like your master now, Old friend ! For you, my heart is tender ! We've seen fond, bright eyes fade in death ! And heard Sin's wildest laughter ringing ! We've watched lost friendship's flickering breath And marked the hush in joyous singing ! 2 , , LOOKING BACKWARD. Long years have scattered, stern and grave, The friends and comrades of our choosing ! Ah yes ! We ve drained the cup of life With not one bitter drop refusing ! To-night, alone, I sit with you, Dim distance parts ! Time backward rolling- I see, through smoke-wreaths, graceful dream, Lost youth ! No funeral knells are tolling ! All the old friends and loves I've known Come back in gentle troops together ! The darkness lightens, life seems bright ! And there is naught but sunny weather ! 'Tis ever so ! Our happiest hours Are creatures of some fond delusion ! When .throng upon the softened heart Bright glimpses in a wild confusion ! So let it be ! I dream away In perfect bliss : While slowly breathing Your incense rare the blue smoke clouds Around my frosted locks are wreathing ! We'll let the world go by us, friend ! We hold in heart still cause to love it ! For what is base, mean, slavish, low, Why! you and I can rise above it ! Far lifted over petty jars — A peace with every wanderer sharing, And, in our hearts down out of sight A glowing coal of feeling bearing ! L OOKING BACKWARD. 2 . ^ The sunlight eyes ! the songs of old ! The lips I've kissed, you bring back ever ! The fond communion of long years, 'Twixt you and I, no blow can sever ! And when your friendship I've resigned The record's closed ! A last sad token ! We struggled on 'till life was vain — And heart and pipe were cold and broken ! IIIM11IIMI LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 871 578 8